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Chapter Text

Adrien noticed her pen had paused about halfway down the third page of his essay and hovered there. She didn't move for a minute, sitting stiff, before he finally piped up from across the dining room table to ask, "Is there something wrong?"

Nathalie glanced at him, tearing her stare from the page and the words she'd long stopped reading. His voice, though soft and wary, cut through a fog, and she tried to blink her murky thoughts out of her head. "What?" she asked.

"You've been staring at that part for a while. Is there an issue with it? Does it make sense?"

Nathalie lifted the pen off the page. She reread the sentence she'd been looming over. "It's fine."

"Oh, okay. And how's the rest of it?"

"One minute. Let me finish reading first." She grabbed the essay off the table and, trying to will her head clear, went on with her review. Apart from underlining a couple passages that needed rewording and pointing out the typos, Nathalie hadn't much to contribute, and this was strange. She'd always been a merciless proof-reader. Adrien could never get away with writing fewer than three or four drafts of something, no matter how short or informal the assignment was meant to be. His papers were always top-notch for this reason, but Nathalie, as much as she fought to pay attention, could barely skim this one. Her eyes floated over the words without picking up much of anything, and what should have taken her a couple minutes to read took ten. Adrien sat quietly in the meantime, watching her with an increasingly anxious gaze.

When she'd finally finished, she slid the pages across the table back at him and stuck the pen behind her ear. "It looks good."

Adrien waited for more feedback, but Nathalie was finished. He glanced down at the scarce marks and then back up at her again. "It's not bad?"

"No, it's perfectly fine, why?"

He shrugged. "You - you kind of have this look on your face like you didn't enjoy what you were reading. Like -" Adrien demonstrated with a grimace, lips twisting and his brows wrinkling as if in discomfort.

Irked that her mask was slipping, Nathalie forced her face to relax. The pained expression melted away, but Nathalie only wished it could take the actual pain with it. "I didn't realize. I apologize," she said, trying to keep the stilted tone out of her voice. "The essay is good."

She got up from the table hastily, and Adrien started. "Good", to Nathalie, was hardly good enough, especially when it comes to first drafts. "Wait, that's it?" he asked, springing to his feet.

"Yes, Adrien, that's-" She cut off. Her stomach flipped, and it jarred her into silence. She nodded briskly. The pen dropped from ear and clattered on the floor. It wasn't retrieved.

"Are you okay?" She didn't stick around to answer him. Nathalie slipped out of the dining room and once out of sight, bolted for the nearest bathroom.

She didn't throw up this time. After minutes spent knelt over the toilet with her insides kneading themselves around, the wave of nausea passed and she leaned back on her heels, letting a heavy breath sail out of her. The room tilted. A sweat had broken out along her hairline. Nathalie groaned and squeezed her eyes closed to feel her head pitching back and forth through the darkness.

She couldn't decide which symptom of the peacock miraculous's damage was the least intolerable, but this was certainly down there with the worst of what remained.

It had gotten bad lately. Nathalie blamed that on herself; she insisted on being more active. Months of slow recovery had driven her half-mad, and despite the side effects, she didn't regret spending more time on her feet. Being nauseous and light-headed beat wasting away in bed, especially since her cough had mostly vanished anyway, and it had been since September that she's so much as blacked out. Now, at the beginning of December, she was still exhausted, but it was nothing she couldn't live with. Eventually, her body would adjust.

They've all had to do a lot of adjusting lately.

Once the room steadied, she picked herself off the floor and returned to the dining room to collect her tablet and phone. Adrien had gone, presumably back to his computer to make the few and small revisions she'd suggested. At least he would come to her for another proof-read once he'd finished, and she could devote proper attention to his work, but hopefully this would be at her time when her head was on straighter. Despite the worst of her discomfort having passed, she still felt, for lack of a better word, weird. Checking her devices, she found she'd acquired a couple email notifications over the last several minutes, and it was still early enough in the evening that she should reply, but the nausea had drained her.

Nonetheless, she brought her belongings back to the atelier and went to her desktop computer to draft her responses. From across the room, Gabriel greeted her with a nod, and a smile beamed through the gloom of Nathalie's mood.

"How did it go with Adrien?" he asked.

She sat down and pulled herself up to her screen. "Not exceedingly well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Was it not his best work?"

"No, the work was fine. I assume."

"Just fine?"

"I didn't help him as much as I should." She opened the first email. "I was feeling - off."

His face changed. "Have you eaten today?"

A pained expression answered him.

"Nathalie…"

"I wouldn't have kept it down anyway," she defends herself, shrinking a little behind her screen. "I'm okay. It'll get better."

"It's gotten worse."

"That's temporary, I'm sure," she insisted. "Nothing I can't handle, Gabriel."

"This is why I wanted you to take some more time off for your recovery."

"I know you did, and I assure you, I am better off this way. At least I don't feel like I'm losing my mind. Mostly, anyway," she attempts to joke.

"You'll eat dinner tonight, won't you?"

"We'll see."

"Nathalie, all day -"

"Can we change the subject?" The thought of food was making her feel sick all over again, and Gabriel must have seen it in her face because he fell silent. Nathalie looked away and churned out a couple sentences of her first email response, waiting for her stomach to settle.

He eventually spoke again. "Adrien asked me earlier if he could go to a midnight showing of a film with his friends."

This grabbed her attention back. "Really?"

"I told him I don't feel comfortable with him staying out until two in the morning or later," he went on. "Apparently one of the kid's adult siblings was going to join them and make sure they get home safe, but 2 AM is 2 AM."

"I'm surprised he even asked," Nathale remarked.

"So was I," he admitted. "I wasn't mad, just - stunned. I found it bold of him. He'd have never asked such a thing just a few months ago."

"Things have changed," she murmured.

"Yes." Gabriel adjusted his glasses. "And he's gotten used to it."

Nathalie, feeling a little bold herself, replied just loud enough for him to hear her, "So have I."

When she dared to look over, slowly raising her eyes from her keyboard to his face across the room, she found him staring back at her with a smile - faint, barely there, but enhanced by the blue-gray glimmer plain in his eyes.

"Yes," he said, "It's...it's good."

Her heart fluttered, and she had to roll her eyes at herself. Really, this floatiness always made her feel like a teenager. She should have grown accustomed to it by now, but on the other hand, getting too comfortable might have been dangerous. It had only been since the late summer that she and Gabriel had entered into new territory, not to mention against all intention. If she admitted it to herself - which she's been far more inclined to do lately - these last months had been...nice. Really nice. Well over a year of their lives was spent fighting the anchor that threatened to pull them all under the rough surface, tangling them up in the weight of chains. That weight was gone. It was gone for now, and Nathalie hoped - though she knew she was not as naive as this - that now would last a long time.

"Well," she said, trying to turn back to her writing, "Was Adrien upset that you said no?"

"He understood. He has other means of enjoying a safer Paris."

She typed out another sentence, then briefly flicked her eyes his way. "I'm glad, by the way, that you've been letting him spend more time with his friends."

Gabriel looked down at his work. "He's with them more often than I would prefer."

"It's good for him."

Stubborn as ever, he responded with a grunt.

"I'm sure he's very grateful, Gabriel," she added.

"I suppose I can't convince him it isn't safe when there's been no akuma attacks since the summer," he grumbled.

It's for the best. Nathalie bit back the comment. Even though she would have only meant it as reassurance that this was beneficial for Adrien, there was all too high of a chance Gabriel would take it differently. For the most part, they avoided talking about their super villain identities. Maybe out of guilt. When Gabriel came to her in August and told her he would be temporarily suspending his pursuit of the ladybug and cat miraculous, neither of them anticipated the hiatus would last this long. She'd tried to talk him out of it; he only needed encouragement, she assumed, but it was clear soon enough that this was a decision he'd mulled over for quite some time.

"You don't understand, Nathalie. I need a break," he told her, sitting on the edge of her bed. He faced her window, and the pale light of a dreary afternoon wafted between the curtains to whiten his weary countenance, reflect off the surface of dim, tired gaze looking at nothing in particular. "Using two miraculous, it's taking up a lot of energy, energy I need to devote to the other facets of my life, not the least of which is to avoid collapsing from exhaustion before I have the chance to bring her back."

Nathalie, still confined to bed at the time, had leaned forward off the headboard, and placed a hand on his shoulder. She was too stunned to speak.

"It'll be best to take a step back, recuperate and think things through," he went on explaining, that aimless gaze shifting to glance at her soft touch. "Once I've had some time off, I'll come back stronger. I'm not getting anywhere like this."

Voice in her throat, Nathalie muttered, "I think that's a good idea."

"I - I don't know. My mind has been in such a fog lately."

"This will help."

"I'm doing it for you too," he finally said and took her hand, surprising her. "You've put so much of your own time into studying that grimoire and keeping things afloat while I've thrown myself into this, and I want you to focus on your recovery for now." Squeezing her fingers, he'd asked, "Will you do that for me?"

"Yes," she whispered, and it was easy to agree, because when he said "a break", she thought he'd meant two or three weeks at most. But then a month passed, and there was no sign of things returning to normal. Within that month, Nathalie had already started to notice considerable progress on her recovery, slowly beginning to feel more like herself again. Within that month, Gabriel seemed happier, or at least more energized, more expressive. Within that month, they'd formed a habit. A habit that probably should be considered bad for the both of them, but Nathalie couldn't think of it like that. She liked sleeping next to him. She liked a lot about him.

Looking back on it now, she wasn't even sure how it happened. One moment they were talking, the next they were doing something else, and then they were doing that something else more than once over the course of that first month and then that first month bled into three and a half. The part of Nathalie that knew better must have screamed at her that she was making a mistake, but it must not have been screaming loud enough. And in all the time, the word miraculous had come up only enough times to count on her fingers.

If it came up any more, then maybe she'd hear that sensible side of herself a little more clearly. And surely, he would hear his own.

Now, Nathalie tried to shake off her nerves. The words "akuma attack" quickened the pace of her heart, for, despite all she'd already given up for that same cause, her time and her health and very nearly her life, she feared hearing him say it again. It was selfish and stupid, and she knew that, but after months, she had to wonder if it wasn't really for the best after all, if Gabriel seemed so much brighter and Adrien so much freer for any other reason.

She swallowed her thoughts and steadied her hands. "Adrien should take advantage of that while he can," she said lightly, and went on drafting her emails.

The evening elapsed. Nathalie sent her responses, and an hour later, when dinner had been prepared, she submitted to Gabriel's insistence that she eat something. They'd begun taking their meals in the dining room more regularly at the same time Adrien was scheduled to eat, which was one of Nathalie's favorite developments since the end of the summer. Conversation still tended to be scarce, and when present, largely one-sided on Adrien's part, but the boy always seemed thrilled to have the chance to speak to his father. His enthusiasm made Nathalie smile behind her water glass.

She spent most of the meal listening to him talk about the science exam he took that morning, nudging the food around the plate with her fork, wanting none of it at all. And then Adrien's anecdotes faded out beneath the noise in her head, because she was reaching the point where justifying this strangeness demanded the consideration of questions that opened like a chasm beneath her. She loomed over the edge of that treacherous plunge, the echoes of threatening thoughts reaching her from the bottom.

It could be.

It's possible.

You have to wonder.

But she didn't want to. Already, she shivered with stone cold fear and threw herself back from that precipice. She forced her focus on Adrien. She forced herself to swallow a bite. She forced herself to meet Gabriel's eyes across the table and smile. Because everything was fine.

For the rest of the night, she tried not to let herself alone with her thoughts, beginning tasks she'd planned to save for tomorrow, taking every opportunity for pointless conversation. She watched the news. She read more news. She didn't care at all about what she was consuming, but as long as it kept her head busy, she couldn't complain.

Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

And late at night, when she was washing her face at the bathroom sink and scrubbing maybe a little too hard, when Gabriel walked up behind her, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her on the shoulder, she tried to think of him. Only him. And a mess they could still clean up if they wanted to, because that was the only mess she had to worry about, right?

Something was definitely wrong.

Even if Nathalie could excuse the vomiting and faintness with the previous months of similar symptoms, even if she could chalk up her late period to the fact that she'd been irregular since using the peacock miraculous in the first place, neither of those explanations - growing flimsier by the day - could spell out why she'd been feeling so damn weird.

Her body was suddenly this foreign vessel. She felt misshapen and unfamiliar and like she was trapped inside herself. She thought her clothes were tighter, but maybe she was just so uncomfortably wary of her body that she paid twice as much attention to things that had always been the same. She didn't trust her reflection. The longer she looked, the wronger she felt and she was sure she had to be losing her mind.

When she woke up the next morning, earlier than her alarm and still cloaked in the dark, she needed to get up right then and there. She needed to somehow get away from herself. As if she could escape her skin by moving fast enough, Nathalie threw her half of the covers onto Gabriel's side of her bed, where he lulled briefly out of sleep and then back again before he could wonder where she was going so suddenly. Nathalie locked herself in the bathroom. She sat down with her back against the tub, her stomach in a knot, her head in a daze, firing off a million what-ifs she couldn't follow.

What had they done?

Half an hour later, when she heard the chime of her alarm on the other side of the door, she got up and turned on the shower. She wouldn't look at the mirror once she undressed, just step under the water and try not to get swept up in the whirl of her mind. She needed to calm down. She needed a plan.

She needed to know. Avoiding the truth would only work for so long if it was truly what she feared.

After making it through the first eleven agonizing hours of the day, managing to hide her hazy terror from Gabriel and Adrien both, the younger Agreste had a photoshoot after school. She informed the bodyguard that she was making a quick stop to the drug store around the corner to buy some painkillers, and considering Nathalie had suffered for months with chronic pain she couldn't always hide, she knew he would think nothing of it. It was a windy December afternoon, and Nathalie pulled the hood of her jacket around her head as she made her way. The average pedestrian would never recognize her anyway, but she couldn't shake the weight of strangers' eyes. It was no use telling herself it was all in her head.

Her heart raced as she purchased the test. The clerk was silent. Nathalie declined a bag and stuck the test up her jacket sleeve.

The rest of the photoshoot passed at a snail's pace, and Nathalie's head was light as helium.

They came home in time for a late dinner, and Nathalie was grateful Gabriel had already eaten because she didn't think she could face him yet. Adrien was tired and relatively quiet, and if he noticed anything strange about Nathalie, he didn't comment on it.

Later, the minutes she spent waiting for the result ate her alive. Nathalie had never felt less like herself. She spread her hands across the cold tile and took a series of deep, shaking breaths that did nothing to compose her nerves. Her soul jumped halfway out of her body at the sound of the timer, and when it settled back in, she did not know if she had the strength to look. She glanced up at the counter, at the test sitting on the edge, at her fate waiting for her to meet it halfway.

She reached for it, ready for the burn.

Now.

Nathalie looked.

The house was so silent, she could have floated away on a dream.

Eventually, the door she stood before became real to her. Nathalie thought that if she reached for it, it would fold under her touch, like it was made of paper. But then, her head could see it for what it was, and she fastened her fingers around the door handle to feel that it was solid.

Go on, she told herself. The thought pierced through empty white shock. Electricity surged through her body, giving her the strength to push the door open and step through.

Gabriel looked up when she entered. He had a pen in his teeth and a fingertip on his screen and a look on his face that told her nothing at all about what was on his mind. She froze in the doorway.

His eyes flicked down. He was checking the time. Then he took the pen from his mouth and said, "You were gone a while."

She couldn't speak.

"I haven't seen you since you and Adrien came home."

Folding her arms tight across her midsection, Nathalie dropped her head.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, watching her demeanor shift.

"Gabriel," she began hoarsely.

"What's the matter?" That little hitch of worry in his tone struck like a hammer. Nathalie's body went rigid as stone and could have broken apart under any more force. Reality suspended somewhere inside of her. Don't let it out.

She didn't tell him. She wasn't ready. She could barely handle it herself. If everything was about to go wrong, then she needed to be able to face that.

So Nathalie just rubbed her arms, looked him up and down, before she whispered through the quiet room, "Nothing. Sorry."

"Are you sure?" he asked gently.

"It's late." Nathalie sighed. "You have a conference call early in the morning. You should come to bed."

He stared at her for a moment. The concern never faded from his eyes. "Very well," he finally said, and closed out of whatever work he had been doing.

When he walked from his podium to the door, he looked at her face. He peered into her eyes, and with all the power Nathalie had, she tried to wipe them blank.

Then, he set a hand on her back, a touch she always melts to. "Let's go, my dear. I think a good night's rest is what we both need."

She went with him, wishing she could agree.

Chapter Text

She told Gabriel it was just a physical. After all, it had been since before she ever used a miraculous that she'd seen anybody other than the doctor Gabriel called to the house when she was at her worst. It was about time she have an appointment without having to worry about her life holding on by a thread, and she insisted she was confident it would go smoothly.

That was why she was hoping now that Gabriel wouldn't realize how long this was taking, because it was certainly frustrating her. An endless string of questions, endless tests. She made the mistake of admitting she'd suffered from health problems for half a year, which led to more questions and tests and eventually the conclusion that she was considered high-risk - but now that she was pushing thirty-five, that was inevitable anyway. By the end of it, her head was spinning. The practitioner left her alone for a few minutes when it was all finished to collect herself. Nathalie stared at her reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. Somebody pale and ghostly gazed back at her. Some stranger. In a body she didn't know anymore.

It had taken her a week to even make the appointment. Nathalie was convinced that none of this was real for that long. But now she had numbers to make everything concrete. Today she was eight weeks along. Due July 22nd. That was just a couple weeks after Gabriel's birthday. He'd be forty-two. Adrien two months from sixteen. The household one person larger. Or one fewer. Depending on how this went. She didn't know how they'd react, after all.

Nathalie was good with numbers, usually, but she didn't know what to make of these. All she knew for sure was that this was happening. It was happening. She made that choice. She felt sick with fear and she couldn't make sense of this want deep down to know what it was inside her, apart from the sliver of fondness she held towards the idea of something she and Gabriel made together. Maybe that was all there was to it; maybe somehow, despite the ice-cold terror swimming through her veins, that was enough.

She slipped on her shoes and coat and scheduled her next appointment for the twelfth week - the week a heartbeat might be detected. The thought turned her throat to sandpaper.

When she made it back to the mansion, Gabriel was eager to know how it went.

"Well, the wait was a little ridiculous," she said, "But it was fine."

"Did you tell them you were sick?" he asked.

"I mentioned it."

"But they weren't concerned?"

She tossed her shoulders, pretended to be interested in whatever was on her computer screen. "Concerned enough, but she didn't find any present issues."

"How about your nausea?"

Nathalie hesitated here, fingertips hovering above her keyboard. Her morning sickness was hard to hide. She was throwing up most days. In the last week, she's gotten a little better at predicting when it would be at its worst and what foods she needed to avoid at all costs. But whenever she disappeared to the bathroom in haste, Gabriel knew why. She had begun to lie, saying that it was mostly false alarms, a result of anxiety. After all, she was always a little high-strung around the holidays when the company was at its busiest, outside of Fashion Weeks.

"It's nothing," she answered. "I mean, they told me to call if it gets worse, but - it's fine. I'm fine."

"Are you -?"

"I'm sure." She reached across the desk for his hand and drew soothing circles into his palm with her thumb. A small sigh breezed out of him. He clasped her hand between his two and squeezed it tenderly. Nathalie smiled. Her fearful heart softened.

"Alright. I'm happy to hear it went well," he said, and kissed her knuckles.

It was moments like this that she wondered why she didn't tell him. That earnest look in those stone blue eyes came dangerously close to making her unravel.

But Gabriel's concern for her well-being wasn't new. It alone wasn't enough reassurance. And the kisses he left on her skin could only carry so much weight. Nathalie felt herself covered in him like smears of ink, but couldn't he take it back, couldn't he change his mind, wipe her clean of everything but the child inside her he surely doesn't want?

She winced. He couldn't want it, could he? That was the dagger at her throat, the thought that silenced her.

But as much as she wished she could hang on to this secret forever, It's not feasible. Sitting there with her hand wrapped in Gabriel's she made the decision: she would wait until Christmas passed, and then she would confess. The last thing she wanted was to sour a cheerful holiday with her alarming news.

As the season progressed, strings of lights went up around the city, painting the early December nights in flecks of multicolor. From her bedroom window, Nathalie peered out over the street, uncharacteristically charmed by the star-like glimmer of the world outside. Paris was getting restless and busy in preparation, and though Nathalie had never been the most festive of people, her own building anticipation lent her to a similar mindset. Her head was always abuzz, whether with her work, or her anxiety, or the ubiquitous Christmas carols she couldn't manage to escape this time of year, and she drove both herself and Gabriel up the wall with all her humming of those timeless, grating melodies.

The coming of Christmas also meant the end of a semester, and like always, Adrien asked Nathalie to help him study for his exams. They'd started out reading off index cards in his room, but the permanent smell of cheese that hung in the air turned Nathalie's stomach. She'd gotten so used to it before she was pregnant that she nearly forgot it was there (thank goodness Adrien didn't have many visitors, because to a newcomer, that smell must be quite embarrassing for him, and she kicked herself for having let it get out of hand); now she was green in the face moving their study session to another room. She really needed to tell him to do something about that. And his clothes. They carried the smell too.

Adrien also began asking permission to attend the various holiday parties his classmates had invited him to. His father denied him at first, but after Nathalie's persuasion, he granted Adrien could accept one of those invitations.

"I promise, I won't go missing again," the younger Agreste joked. Gabriel didn't find that very amusing, but that didn't stop Adrien from adding, "At least there's no Shadow Moth to akumatize and amokatize Santa Claus this year, right?"

Adrien loved reminding his father that they lived in a villain-free Paris. It was the one thing Gabriel couldn't argue against.

"He's getting a little cocky," Gabriel said to her later, once Adrien had left, and made a little joke of his own: "Maybe I should transform, just to knock him down a peg."

Nathalie forced a chuckle out around her trembling heart.

She was incessantly nervous, but newly sentimental. Christmas spelled the last day of harmony in the Agreste household, but it meant countless other things before Nathalie designated it the eve of her doomsday. When the tree went up in the atrium and Adrien helped her string up the lights, Nathalie got swept up in her thoughts. Little, shard-like fragments of imagination reflected a vision her heart wanted to be made whole: Christmases to come after this one, with a family gathered around a sparkling, ornate tree, the smell of fir and baked goods bright in the air; laughter and the crinkling of wrapping paper; candles kept far out of reach from the curious, grabbing hands of somebody too young to know not to touch.

Nathalie roped the last strand of lights around the bottom branches as Adrien reached from the stairs to add the golden tree topper, and his satisfied exclamation of "Look at that!" drew her out of her head long enough to see him smiling down at her.

And then, her head pulled her right back in, as she pictured him lifting a child up to the top of that tree to crown it with a star. She saw the child grin from ear to ear, she saw their hands stretch out as they were passed from Adrien's arms to Gabriel's. They swayed back and forth in their father's hold and Nathalie could hear their musical giggling so clearly in her mind, she could have cried. Blue eyes. Huge, soft blue eyes. A kiss on the top of their head. A kiss in return. On Gabriel's nose.

Nathalie stood up from where she knelt on the floor and bit her lip to stop the tears. Before Adrien could notice, she left the atrium.

In the days before Christmas, she was really beginning to have trouble squeezing on her tailored slacks. Nobody who didn't know could tell she was pregnant just by looking at her, especially not under all her layered clothing, but Nathalie certainly felt pregnant. That reflection she hated was becoming no less loathsome. To search for herself in a mirror and only ever find a different woman's body sent this pang into her gut. Whenever she undressed for a shower, she stared at her midsection until the glass fogged up, stared at the way it ever-so-slightly swelled away from her. Just enough to notice the difference. Just enough to drive her crazy. When her body was still damp from the shower, it was even harder to pull on her pants, and one morning Nathalie went ahead and ordered herself a new pair of slacks to wear until she had to buy actual maternity clothing.

She ate more Christmas cookies than she probably had throughout the rest of her life. She never used to have much of a sweet tooth.

For his one allowed party, Adrien chose to attend a small gift exchange at his classmate Marinette Dupain-Cheng's residence on the night of Christmas Eve, which left Nathalie and Gabriel in the mansion by themselves. They ate together. He offered wine, but she claimed to have a headache and declined. She toasted with her water glass to making it through the holiday rush, and if she was close enough she would have kissed him too.

They remained at the table long after they had finished dinner, engrossed in low-voiced conversation, Nathalie with her chin propped on the base of her palm and Gabriel tapping his finger on the base of his wine glass to send a light tick into the air, counting the moments of time they were lost in. The album of jazz piano Christmas covers that flurried through the room looped four times before either of them even bothered to wonder how many hours had passed. They reminisced, both on Christmases of their childhoods and the ones they'd shared since meeting. When he was thirteen, Gabriel sliced his finger on a saw trying to help his older brother cut down their Christmas tree. He needed five stitches, and he showed Nathalie the small scar on the inside of his right ring finger. She traced the thin white line. She'd noticed it before, but she'd never asked for its story.

Nathalie had a couple stories of her own, including the suspicion that almost every gift her sister had ever given her had been shoplifted, and that she found out she was allergic to peppermint when she was six and tried a candy cane for the first time. Years later, she would be the reason Gabriel decided against including peppermint in one of his first perfumes, despite loving the smell of it himself. He asked her to sample the original formula, and when he told her what was in it, she'd held her breath and backed away about fifteen paces.

"Does it sound that awful?" he'd asked.

"It sounds like it'll make me go into anaphylactic shock," mumbled Nathalie, pinching her nose.

He was making phone calls in the next several seconds with the simple message, "No peppermint. Ever."

Ever. Nathalie figured at that moment that he was planning on keeping her around for a while.

And now they were here, lost in each other, whisking their way through memories that didn't sting like the ones that pulled them down the darker path they strayed from in the summer. She wished all their nights could look like this. It was all too easy to imagine the kinds of memories they might share down the road, and who might be there, fitting their tiny hand in her palm, clinging to her neck, smiling like the sun and all the little lights surrounding them.

Nathalie's grin as she listened to Gabriel slowly slid off her lips. Eyes shifting to the window, she thought, Don't get ahead of yourself. She was starting to hate being so out of touch with the earth.

"It's nice to have a quiet holiday," she heard Gabriel remark, finishing his last glass of cabernet. "We used to go to Audrey's parties, you know, whether she was in Paris or New York or London, we'd chase her down. I never liked those things. They were gaudy and hollow and I hated having to leave Adrien behind every year."

Nathalie remembered the Christmas Eves she'd spend watching holiday movies with the Agreste boy late into the night, while Emilie and Gabriel dashed off to see their most intolerable friend. Gabriel had always been tight-lipped about what those parties were like, and this was the first she was hearing he hated them. But it made sense. Emilie was the one for flash and crowds, not him.

"Now he's the one at the party," Gabriel continued.

"Hardly a party, I gather. They're only trading presents."

"We always had Christmas Day together, at least." He sighed. "I wish I'd done more for him last year."

"You let his friends come over."

"I mean just for the two of us. He deserved more. It was a hard day."

"Oh." Nathalie's heart warmed. "You have the chance to remedy that tomorrow."

"I know." Shutting his eyes, he added, "I'm relieved he doesn't hold it against me."

At this, she stood up, crossed over to the other side of the table and draped her arms around him. Gabriel blinked up at her, clasping her hands against his chest as she kissed him, long and soft, on the cheek.

"How could he?" she whispered into his skin. "It means so much to him to see you try."

He turned his head and caught her on the mouth.

They heard the front door open and shut a second later and pulled instinctively away. Meeting Adrien in the atrium as he peeled off his boots, the boy showed off a sparkling red gift bag that was shedding glitter onto the marble floor with every motion.

"Marinette had me for the gift exchange," he explained, once he was free of his winter garments. He reached into the bag and pulled out a heavily decorated scrapbook. Flipping through the pages too quickly for Nathalie and Gabriel to see much of anything apart from an explosion of ribbons and stickers, he went on, "It's full of photos of me and all my friends. And look." He flipped back to the first page and handed it over to them. Nathalie wiped residual red glitter on her pants. "It's a picture from last Christmas."

Adrien and his classmates sat gathered around their dining room table in the well-decorated room, some smiling and others making goofy expressions at the camera. The page was decorated with little Christmas-y doodles including a red ribbon with a bow shaped like a pair of hearts.

"That's lovely, Adrien," Nathalie said, and glanced at Gabriel to spot the smallest smirk on his lips. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, I didn't realize how late it was. We were having a blast."

"What time is it?" asked Gabriel.

"Almost 11:30," said Adrien. "I was surprised neither of you called me."

Gabriel and Nathalie exchanged a wordless glance. Talk about getting lost in conversation.

"I'm going to go clean all this glitter off of me, and then get to bed. I'm wiped out," Adrien told them, taking back the scrapbook.

"Yes, we ought to turn in as well," Gabriel agreed. He nearly grabbed Nathalie's hand, but thought against it. Nathalie also found his "we" just a little too indicative of what their sleeping arrangement had been for the last several months.

But Adrien didn't appear to catch on. He told them Merry Christmas and good night and trekked up the stairs to his bedroom.

In Nathalie's, she and Gabriel wound down slowly, dusting each other's faces and necks and shoulders with kisses. Nathalie was very aware of where she let him put his hands, fearful he might feel the subtle difference in her body. She waved him off as she tried to dress into her pajamas, and Gabriel turned on the gas fireplace, making her laugh and shake her head at him.

"How romantic," she said.

He let her finish buttoning her shirt before he drew her in for a peck on the lips. Nathalie let him set his hands on her waist, and she slipped off his glasses, setting them down on the dresser.

"My eyesight is better than yours." Their foreheads touched. "I can still see you in the dark. You're glowing."

"I'm, what?" Nathalie flinched back as panic flared through her at his choice of word.

"Beautiful," he told her, and she relaxed.

"I must look exhausted. I didn't realize how long we'd been up talking."

"It was nice, wasn't it?"

Still holding on to each other, they shifted to the bed. Nathalie tucked her legs under her and clasped her hands behind Gabriel's neck. The smoky blue burn of his gaze made her stomach flutter.

"Really nice," she growled, leaning ever closer.

She wanted him to be hers. More than anything. She didn't think it was possible just a few months ago.

"I've been meaning to tell you something about how I feel," she began. "Something I've felt for a long time."

"What is it?"

And despite every fiber of her being screaming at her to admit the truth, let it crack through the air like a firework, she didn't say it. She didn't tell him she loved him.

Instead, she whispered, "You're a changed man, Mr. Agreste."

Her lips lingered just above his mouth, daring him to pull her all the way in.

But his hands, which had been firm above her hips, inviting her near, loosened. Nathalie blinked as he drew away, looking as if she'd spoken a foreign language to him.

"What did you just say?" he asked.

Nathalie ran her fingers slowly through his hair. "You're different," she murmured, the sensual rasp now absent from her voice.

"How so?"

"In a good way." Though she didn't understand why he seemed so alarmed, she tried to ease him, offering a soft smile. "You seem happier, you know. I can't tell you how much of a comfort that is. I worried about you for the longest time, and now -"

"I didn't realize," he said, glancing away from her, "That I seemed different, I mean."

"Of course." Her fingertips traced their way down his cheekbone. "Everything hung so heavy on you, Gabriel. But I can see you aren't so weighed down anymore. I can see it in the way you - you smile more than you used to, you joke more than you used to. You make more time for your family. You're better at letting things go."

"My family…"

"Do you feel any different?" she wondered.

Eyes on the fireplace, he withheld his answer for several heartbeats. His lips parted, and a long, quiet breath escaped before his words. "Yes, I do."

"See what I mean?"

"I didn't know…" he went on, low and breathy, so that Nathalie had to lean close again to hear him, "if it was you or me who had changed."

"Do you think I'm different?" she asked.

"Maybe." He took her hand off his face and studied her fingers, the way one observes the texture of stone. "Or maybe I just...feel differently about you."

Nathalie's heart leaped.

"It's been an incredible few months," he admitted. It was the first time he commented on their affair in its entirety, and hearing the words said aloud brought the swirling fantasy in her brain to a chilling stillness, like the sudden death of a storm. As if it was an unspoken secret between them, one they were keeping from themselves. "I wondered if there was something more to it than...what we're doing now."

She found her hands retracting from his body. "More?" she prompted.

"I can't believe it," he said, looking down at the space that had opened between them. "How much has changed."

"It...happened fast," murmured Nathalie, "but things stayed the same for so long."

That heat in his eyes was replaced with a glassy cold, and it raised the hair on the back of her neck. Nathalie wanted to kiss him back to his senses, but something stopped her beyond what she did to try to catch his focus again, ducking her head a little lower to enter back into his line of sight.

"Is everything okay? Did I say something?" she asked.

He shook his head, but she didn't know if she believed him. "I'm just - thinking about how different life used to be."

As if worried his skin might burn her, she reached slowly for his chin and gave it a gentle tip to raise his eyes. "We're still here," she whispered.

"We?"

"You and I. And Adrien. And…" She clenched her jaw, hard enough to send an ache through her teeth.

But then, she didn't know if she had overstepped already. She said You and I like they were a family, but despite all those dreams that spent the holiday flitting through her head like a flurry of glitter, it could all still slip through her fingertips in an instant

Gabriel stared at her, long and hard. He was seeing something, though Nathalie didn't know what, but whatever it was, it was hitting him in slow motion, something crushing like the blow of a hammer. The silence between them dragged Nathalie's spirits low. And then he said, "Yes. I suppose some things don't change."

"Even they do," she replied hollowly. "Little by little."

"Little by little," he repeated.

"But they're still yours. They're still..." She searched for the right word, but couldn't quite find it. "Good."

Gabriel leaned in and kissed her, rather chastely, on the cheek, and then he slipped over to his side of the bed, pulling back the covers. He mumbled a small, "Good night, Nathalie."

She watched him get settled, turning the pillow over, lying on his side, facing the opposite direction he usually does. She sat there on her heels with her eyes on the back of his head, holding her breath as she listened to his. She didn't know what she was waiting for, if he would say anything else or turn around or fall asleep, but he remained perfectly still and perfectly awake.

After ten minutes she got out of bed and turned the fireplace off.

On Christmas Day, she was sick, so sick and so troubled that she didn't want to see anybody. In the morning, she claimed her headache from the night before had worsened, and Gabriel left her alone. Almost too easily. But maybe that was only her mind spinning her worries out of nothing. As far as she knew, Gabriel and Adrien were spending the day together, and she hoped her isolation for the time being meant they were having such a good time that they'd forgotten to check on her. Maybe Adrien was showing him all the movies he used to watch with her on past holidays, or all the photos in that scrapbook his friend gifted to him and telling Gabriel the stories behind them all. Meanwhile she kept to bed, trying to sleep away her nausea and fatigue, but the barrage of her anxious thoughts left her wide awake on her back, eyes darting across the ceiling like she could read her worst fears spelled out to her.

Nathalie took the time by herself to practice how to tell him. The holiday was coming to a close and she had limited time before he was bound to realize the truth on his own. How to reveal such a thing without being too blunt, without being too clever, without exhibiting too much expectation, too little emotion? And what was the right emotion? Nathalie felt a hundred just as she lied there. Paralyzing fear and naīve idealism and bottomless sorrow and rage and apprehension and regret for that one night in October but none for the rest of them.

I need to tell you something.

I have something important to tell you.

Can we talk?

There's a reason I've been so sick lately.

A few weeks ago…

Please stay calm.

Please don't be mad.

Don't hate me. Please just don't hate me.

Nathalie choked back tears as she ran through it all in her mind. It took ages for her inner voice to even say it. She built towards the moment brick by brick, and once she reached it, it all came crashing down in a rain of her ugliest imagination.

But over the course of the day, while she was never satisfied with the scenarios she constructed, her courage strengthened gradually, at least enough to stop the crying. She could rip off the bandage. Get it over with. The fallout was unavoidable, no matter how she prefaced and phrased the confession.

When Gabriel came to bed that night, he brought her a bowl of sliced fruit, knowing that she hadn't been downstairs to eat all day. As she snacked, she asked about his day with Adrien, he hadn't much to say. They watched a couple movies, spent a while talking, exchanged gifts, but they also took their time alone.

"It was quiet," he remarked. "Had some space to think."

Nothing more than this was said.

She didn't see him much on the morning of December 26th either. Nathalie woke to the soft ring of her alarm and an empty half of the bed. The covers were made. The bathmat was damp from the shower he'd already taken. A note was left on her desk when she made it down to the atelier that he'd decided to attend his meeting in person that morning and he would be gone for a couple hours.

He never mentioned he was planning on that. Nathalie bit her lip and tossed the note in a waste bin. Was he avoiding her? Had she done something to upset him? Worse yet, did he find out what she'd been hiding from him? Did he not know how to face her?

Whatever the case, something was very wrong, and she couldn't wait for it to get worse. Nathalie tried to work through the morning, but her focus hovered elsewhere, going over her practiced confession over and over again.

He arrived home in the late morning, and she figured she would wait until after he had taken his lunch to admit the truth. As he entered the atelier, he nodded her direction and looked her up and down.

"Are you feeling okay today?" he asked her, and her arms crossed over her midsection. The response was nearly automatic.

But she tried to make it look casual and nodded back at him. "Better. Thank you."

Her heart raced. The next couple hours meandered past them, and she couldn't get anything done. Gabriel showed no indication he noticed her stress, consumed it whatever it was on his screen.

And then, just after 1:30 that afternoon, she heard him take a deep breath across the room, shoulders rising and falling at the same pace his gaze lifted to glance at her, and then away again.

She near-whispered, "Gabriel?"

"Nathalie…" He gripped his screen, knuckles visibly white as chalk.

"Is everything okay?"

"No," he answered, sending a panicked jolt through her. "No, I don't think so."

A familiar cliffside dropped into nothingness below her, and Nathalie had avoided the jump long enough. She was too late. She was pulled into the darkness.

Nathalie got to her feet and started crossing the room towards him.

"Wait." He said, stopping her halfway. A panicked light flared up in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Listen, Nathalie, we -" He swallowed hard. He took another breath. "We need to talk. Right now." The grave tone of his voice hung low in the air and made her heart plunge to meet it.

He knew. He had to know. He was in such a strange mood the last two nights, and the only explanation she could fabricate right now was that it must have finally occurred to him why Nathalie had been acting so odd for three whole weeks. Her excuses could only make so much sense for so much time.

She started, "Gabriel, listen, I - I can't even put into words how scared I am -"

He held out a hand to interrupt. But it was the way his face twisted that put her to silence, lips contorting in a pained grimace, brows falling heavy over eyes dark with dread. "Don't. Don't make this hard. Look, Nathalie, all of this, for a time I thought it was what I needed. And there's no doubt in my mind that it's helped me - to an extent. Restored some of my energy. My passion." His shoulders sank. His voice as well. "But it's been over four months. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep stalling. Starting next week, I'm ending my hiatus.

"I'm going to continue my mission for the ladybug and cat miraculous."

Something inside of Nathalie went utterly still.

She couldn't stop staring at his face, up and down, tracing every line and every curve with her gaze until she'd followed a map of grief and pity all the way back around. That face didn't match his voice. A voice cold and empty as though a machine churned the words out. They passed through her. Like bullets.

"What?" she wheezed.

"I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am," he said. "But this - what we've done, who we've become, it isn't what's right."

"Gabriel…"

"Please. Please let me finish," he urged her, squinting his eyes closed, before they cracked open once more to look just to the left of her head. He couldn't reach her eyes. "We worked so hard, we sacrificed so much to try to make my family whole again. It's not right to give it up. It's not fair to Emilie. My wife is counting on me. I thought I could ignore that but I am wracked with guilt for having set her aside for so long, for having…" Thinly, he added, "betrayed her."

Tell me you aren't serious. Please. The words never left her mouth. She couldn't speak. The air had been completely blown out of her lungs.

"I want you to know, I don't hold anything against you. Truly, I don't. And I understand if you don't want to go forth assisting me in this pursuit as you have in the past. I could never expect that of you. You have every right to be as upset with me as you are. I understand. But I need to do what's right."

She was going to pass out.

Gabriel sighed what sounded like his bodyweight out of his lungs, no longer with the dignity to look above the floor. So instead, he turned his back. He faced the portrait on the wall. Emilie's portrait.

No. No, no, no. Please, God. No.

Nathalie swayed. Her vision broke apart like a kaleidoscope image. She crouched on the floor. She stayed there with her hands clasped over her mouth, her insides feeling like they were rearranging themselves, her heart cracking apart - not like glass, like something that breaks slow; old brick; a house crumbling to ruins, leaving nothing salvageable behind - until the surge of dizziness dissipated like the wind that would knock it all down.

Please don't do this to me.

If she was waiting for a voice to tell her it was all a lie, a sick joke, a cruel, cruel trick on her mangled up heart, then she was left waiting. Left there in a rushing, deafening quiet that would drown her if she stayed put any longer.

Not this. Anything but this.

Slowly, unsteadily, she rose to her feet again, eyes on the back of his head.

He called her name. Soft. It could have killed her.

Nathalie did not respond. She couldn't if she tried. Instead, she moved, weak as a trembling leaf along the ground, pushed by the wind, out of the room and into the hopeless wreckage.

Chapter Text

Nathalie clung to the sides of the toilet bowl while her heart thumped and her arms quivered like taut rubber bands. She'd lost everything she'd eaten that day, and now, recovering from the way her body spasmed trying to expel it all out of her - unable to also eject the horrid shock - she slowly reached to flush it all away and then shoved herself back, hitting the base of her skull on the bathtub's porcelain enamel.

Damn it! She sucked the air through her teeth and massaged the place of impact. After the jolt passed through her body, Nathalie was left behind with the whispers of violent thoughts at the back of her head, stirred up like motes of dust, fine but many and obscuring everything else but the searing desire in her that needed the pain.

This deep despair clawing her heart to shreds, the nerve of her skin to hold together...

Nathalie wanted to hurt herself.

"God," she heaved. She had to leave this room before she did something stupid. Hit her head a second time, on purpose, or put the scissors in the top drawer to use, or shatter her abhorrent reflection with her bare hands.

Like the air in the room was toxic, she scrambled to her feet and left in haste, slamming the door behind her. Nathalie tried not to pull at her hair, tried not to touch her face, as she stood in the middle of her bedroom struggling to breathe. Everything was perfect; the bed made, the floor spotless, the dresser neatly organized, and Nathalie didn't want to look at any of it. When she had it in her again to move, she crossed over to the windows and pulled the curtains shut. She hit the lights. Afternoon light powdered the room in dust-gray. To lay in pitch she had to close her eyes. Nathalie, backing away from the wall and the bed and anything she could touch, sank down to the floor. The rug beneath her body was rough, but she didn't care, for as she dropped, the energy drained clean out of her, spilled like water out of a balloon. She curled up on her side, bending her knees, hugging her hands to her chest.

Her eyes closed. She was alone in the dark.

Time passed. Nathalie didn't know how much. Shutting out the rest of the world, she laid in silence and didn't shed a tear. Shouldn't she have been crying? Shouldn't she be letting it all out, sobbing the hurt away? Nathalie wasn't numb, but she was hollow, and she could feel the pain reverberating through her like waves of sound, shaking her soul while her body laid still as the dead. Too deep to cry at. Too out of reach. Too unfixable.

She felt ruined. Ruined and empty and like she wanted to die.

Nathalie clenched her body in on itself.

She wanted to die.

If only it was easy enough to wish into reality. She couldn't bring herself to move. She didn't know how she would do it. All she wanted was to press her eyelids hard enough to erase the whole world outside of them and float away into the blackness. Float away light as a feather barely grazed by gravity, feeling nothing at all.

Maybe she would never move again. Maybe she would never open her eyes. She didn't feel like she could if she tried. Like all the life in her was gone. And she was just a shell.

After an eternity spent halfway out of the world, the suffocating silence shattered with a soft burst of sound at the door.

Nathalie's eyelids fluttered open. The room was deep blue beneath the blanket of night.

She'd lied there at least four hours.

She didn't move and another knock cracked through the air. Another knock she didn't answer. The door knob trembled. She'd locked it.

"Nathalie?" His voice was soft enough that she wondered if she imagined it, but when she did not respond, he called again.

Her lips were glued together. Her throat dry as dust.

A heavy pause stretched onward, long enough for her slow and shallow breath to cycle around several times.

A third instance, she heard his voice. "Nathalie?" He sounded panicked. Knocked again. "Nathalie, I know you're upset, but say something please. I need to know you're -"

"Here," she breathed. "I'm here."

All those times he'd tried to reach her in the past, when she was too ill to respond, sending him into a spiral of fear that she'd met her fate, and she couldn't let him sink back into that.

"I'm here," she called, louder, so that he could hear her.

"Nathalie...will you open the door? We - we still have to talk."

Nathalie's fingers twitched, and then her feet, and then she was pushing herself up from the floor, heavy as lead and burdened by a body that couldn't drift into nothing. She didn't know what more there was to say, but something pulled her to the door.

"Please."

"I'm coming," she told him.

She flicked the lock and turned away before he could enter, walking to sit on the bed - his side of it, the one nearest to the door - and she remembered how she woke that morning. Alone. Beside flat and pristine sheets. A propped up pillow that she grabbed now and clutched over her stomach as he gingerly pushed open the door and gazed at her from the hallway.

"The lights," he said, squinting through the dark.

"You can turn them on," she mumbled.

He left the overhead untouched, instead, crossing over to the bedside table and flicking on the lamp so that a soft golden light flooded that side of the room. Nathalie glanced down and traced the white stripe on the pillowcase. She'd prefer him to remain in shadow.

"Listen," he began. At once, she could hear the difference in his voice, no longer a mechanical rumble but a clear, emotional current. She almost looked up. "I need you to know this isn't easy for me to do. As much as you must hate to hear me say it like this, I care about you. I promise, and I don't want to hurt you. But we took things too far." He paused here, noticing her fingers drill into the pillow. "I'm sorry. I let things go too far. I'm the one that went astray. I never should have lost sight of my goal. This is my fault."

Nathalie was shaking.

"I know you. I know you want what's best for me. You always have, and I made a huge mistake when I let you think that I could move on. I let you believe something that wasn't true, and I don't have the words to express the depths of my regret." He sounded sorry. He sounded really sorry, but Nathalie realized that didn't change anything for her. In fact, it might have made her feel worse. "You deserve so much better than for me to have...to have - used you. For my own gratification."

Oh, God. Was none of it real? Did it all mean nothing at all? Nathalie folded over the pillow, holding back a gasp of pain as her heart was wrenched apart.

He stepped closer. He knelt in front of her. A hand hovered in the air before he wisely chose not to clasp her knee. "I'm so sorry, Nathalie. It was wrong of me to string you along all this time. You said I was a...changed man, and maybe, maybe you were right. But I shouldn't have changed. I need to keep holding on. I need to make good on my promises. From the start I knew that was what would be best for my family. They deserve somebody better than who I've been. And so do you."

Something in Nathalie snapped, violently enough to finally bring tears to her eyes where none had been for hours. Her head shot up to glare at Gabriel right in his solemn, hurting gaze, and when he saw the look on her face, he flinched.

"Nathalie -" he started, but he didn't get a chance to say more than that. Nathalie surged to her feet, flinging the pillow onto the floor and brushing right past him. She barrelled into the bathroom door. From under one of the sinks, hidden behind a group of unused soap and shampoo bottles, Nathalie grabbed her pregnancy test, kept in a clear plastic bag, and stormed back out to the bedroom.

Back on his feet, Gabriel watched with a look of alarm on his face. He stuttered something out, probably a question, but Nathalie didn't make it out. Her head was rushing. And then she tossed the bag at him.

Gabriel fumbled to catch it, and Nathalie, as the anger emptied out of her body in an instant, dropped weakly against the wall, the tears in her eyes spilling over. She slid to the floor, and he looked at the test, over and over as if he didn't know what it was, but he knew. He knew and it wasn't clicking. He knew and he didn't understand yet what he'd done.

They stared: she, at his face; he, at the result on the test. The truth. The worst thing that could have happened to them. The consequence of his fucking mistake.

Nathalie watched him shutting down. It started with the light in his eyes, flashing for a split second, like a bolt of lightning through his head, and then it faded. Faded slowly like his soul was seeping away, draining out of him like blood. And when his eyed had died, his skin lost its color. Pale as a ghost, his rigid jaw went slack. His lips parted to release a low and long breath, just audible enough to hear quiver. His grip on the test weakened from stone to jelly. It nearly slipped out of his fingers.

"Oh…" His voice shivered out of him. "Oh my God."

He glanced at her. Pain rippled across his face. He said something else. Maybe her name. It wasn't discernible.

A sob quaked out of her and split the delicate quiet. Nathalie ducked her face into her hands to get him out of her sight, wetting her palms with her tears.

She heard him approach with unsteady footsteps, heard him fall against the wall like she had, heard the scrape of his body down to the floor at her side. He was close to her. Not close enough to touch, but closer than she expected him to come. Nathalie didn't have the courage to look up yet. She cried, hunched over her knees, while each breath that dragged in and out of her lungs ripped the hole in her heart deeper. He knew. Now, he knew. Now, it was surely too late for anything to change for the better.

You said I was a changed man. She did this. She opened his eyes to the fact that she wasn't what he really wanted. She pointed out his worst fear, that things couldn't stay the same, and now that he knew, it was only more proof that he had a reason to run.

The piece of her that saw his hurt, that felt his remorse at the way he shattered her spirit, wanted to believe that there was a chance yet. Nothing could wipe him clean of his fear, but maybe he would respond to it differently. Maybe he could still reach out. Maybe he needed that cold and fast slap in the face to come to a whole new set of senses. Nathalie wanted to have that faith. She wanted it more than anything in the world and that made her wary of the pain still in danger of closing in, the pain that sits on the other side of hope. She waited for Gabriel to say something. Anything. Any touch in the form of words, in the form of a question, What are we going to do?

Say we, she begged him inside of her head, Say we.

After several silent minutes, she glanced at him, peering between her fingers. He stared at the opposite wall, blank and white as a sheet. Routinely, his eyes would lower to the pregnancy test still in his grasp, as if he was checking to make sure he wasn't imagining it. And then he would look back up. Tighten a fist. Close his eyes then open them again. Sigh.

But beyond that cycle of little movements, she couldn't see anything in him. He wasn't there. He'd disappeared. She was searching for a sign of him,, like a flare in the night, but all she saw was darkness.

Nathalie opened her mouth to say his name.

And then, he reached toward her to place the test on the floor by her hip. He seemed too unsteady to stand, but he stood anyway, momentarily leaning on the wall to catch himself from sinking down again.

Time halted as he stood there. Nathale held her breath.

He wasn't going to say anything.

And so the world pressed on as he lumbered out of the room. The door softly shut behind him.

When Nathalie had run out of tears to cry, she pulled a suitcase out of the closet, opened drawers and pulled clothes off of hangers. She folded things haphazardly and tossed them in without bothering to straighten any of it out. A toothbrush and a comb and a bottle of conditioner and the test that had been left on the floor were all she packed other than a few days' worth of clothes. Her mind whirled too quickly to think to grab anything else. She'd leave her tablet in the atelier, but luckily she'd had her phone in her pocket when she retreated up here. Nathalie called a cab.

She hadn't been to her apartment in months. There was no food there, nothing she needed for work, no piece of the life she had brought here to stay during her recovery and the new chapter she'd begun, but she didn't care. She had to leave. Right now. Before she did something she'd regret. She wasn't safe from herself in this room. It terrified her, the things her mind was pleading her to do.

Nathalie passed Adrien's bodyguard on the way out. "Tell Mr. Agreste I've gone. Family emergency," she lied, not caring if he believed her. "And, um - he's going to be very busy with work the next few days so - I won't be contacting him. He might ask you to reach out to me on his behalf. To make sure I'm - everything is fine. And if he doesn't, tell Adrien to text me."

G. nodded, evidently bewildered, but comprehending.

"Thanks," she mumbled, and carried the suitcase down to the atrium as the cab pulled up on the other side of the gate.

Passing the atelier doors in slow motion, Nathalie wondered if Gabriel would be watching from the window while she went.

But she wouldn't look to find out. Nathalie yanked her coat off the hook and didn't bother putting it on before she stepped out of the front door into the cold, illuminated night.

Chapter Text

To Gabriel, this didn't feel real.

He was convinced the last few days had been something like a dream, if dreams were long and stark and cold, if he could sleep through every brutal strike and feel them toll through his body like something he had never felt before. The incapability of his mind to create an unacquainted shock on its own did not stop him from feeling every single one. Because this wasn't a dream after all. Each tedious moment dragged him nearer to himself, to his senses, to the world outside his mad head.

It was easy to forget how close he had come to fracturing apart, because it was even easier to wish he'd never given up to begin with. The first thing he could discern was that elusive what-if, the picture of how simple everything would be had he not decided to set aside his goal, break his stride, give himself the chance to consider what waited for him down other paths. Yes, telling himself he shouldn't have taken a break at all was the easiest thing in the world to do. It covered up the memory of how terribly he needed it. The strain of using two miraculous at once took its toll, wearing away in weeks what wind and water made of the earth in millennia. He wouldn't have had the strength to accomplish anything had he kept pushing. He would have only pushed himself halfway to death.

But no. He convinced himself, that was the choice he should have made, to keep going despite the ramifications to his body and mind. He must have known that everything that came after the choice to postpone his mission was unavoidable. Pulled towards Nathalie, caught in her orbit, amazed by resilience and compassion he only wished he shared with her, he let himself get close enough to see with clarity all the things he'd blinded himself to before. Eyes and body and soul.

There was no preventing it. Gabriel had cut ties with the one thing keeping him tethered to the earth, and he drifted out of reach, towards the sky.

He let it go for months.

He never complained.

He'd think, kissing Nathalie, lacing his fingers through her hair, holding her by the hips, it wasn't right, even if it was temporary.

But then she'd kiss him back and touch his skin and make him feel alive, and he'd never want it to end.

Perhaps, he'd have never let it end. Gabriel was content in that liminal space outside of his guilt, outside of that realization snaring him in a new life. A new love.

I love you, he heard himself think, a thousand times, when he met her eyes or touched her hand or woke up next to her in the morning. And if he kept the thought in his head forever, then maybe it wouldn't mean anything.

But it meant the whole world.

You're a changed man, Mr. Agreste. Those words shattered his safe little lie, the glass cage he'd built around his heart. He was hearing the voice of somebody who had always been able to see him more clearly than he could see himself. Gabriel tensed with shock, withdrawing from Nathalie's inviting lips as the weight of the last several months crashed down. A downpour of the differences he'd allowed her make in every corner of his life, only to pretend none of them mattered. But he was a changed man, waking up in a changed world he'd help to build in his sleep.

You make more time for your family. But his family was still broken, wasn't it? Emilie, his wife, his child's mother was still at rest beneath the house, lying in wait for his magical cure to their terrible plight. He'd left her down there in August. He visited her as he'd done before. But there he was on Christmas Eve, at the end of his first full year without her, in bed with another woman, as if she could come back on her own. As if she didn't need him. He made time for a fractured family, when he should have been making time to mend it.

You're better at letting things go. That was all too dangerous to be. Gabriel looked into the face of the woman he loved and saw somebody he was destined to destroy. Nathalie deserved better than this. He'd come so close to breaking his promise to his wife that others would have to suffer the consequences for his carelessness. He wanted to take the burden away from her. He wished, as he fell asleep that night, something that pained him to wish, that he could wake up to a Nathalie that didn't love him the way he knew she did now. If she didn't love him, then he wouldn't hurt her.

But that was a naïve and empty wish carrying him into Christmas Day.

She woke ill. How could he have not seen it, all of the signs? The nausea, the sudden shyness about her body, the doctor's appointment out of nowhere? Gabriel had been living on some other plane of existence, where actions don't have reactions.

He and Adrien spent the afternoon of Christmas together, eating lunch, exchanging gifts under the tree, watching movies, but before all of that Gabriel waited out the morning in the repository. Tending to the garden, he periodically glanced back at Emilie's motionless body and faintly smiling face, and the guilt in his heart bored deeper and deeper until it physically ached. He dropped his pruning shears in the grass as a rare tear ran down his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he told his wife. He approached the capsule and spread his fingers across the glass. "You've counted on me all this time, and I have lost my way."

All the time that Emilie had lost in her unbreakable sleep was catching up to him, intensifying the spill of his tears. From the start he had been working to keep things from changing, and now he was a plain failure.

"Forgive me," he begged the unhearing woman.

He had to make things right.

It wouldn't be easy or clean, and he couldn't do it today, but it had to be soon. To indulge in his feelings for Nathalie much longer would be unjust to them all.

He prepared himself for Nathalie to be upset, to need space once he confessed his intentions. He left her alone into the evening to process. Such an idiot, not to fathom the depth of the pain he'd caused, worse than the worst he imagined. He went to apologize as if she could have possibly been in the position to hear him out.

It took half a dozen heartbeats once he'd looked at the test before any part of this started making sense to him. And then the truth washed over in two crushing waves.

Nathalie was pregnant. With his child.

And he had just told her their affair was over. The affair he called a mistake right to her face. He had no idea at all.

Gabriel didn't remember what happened after that. The next thing he knew, Nathalie was gone. She departed the mansion with a suitcase, and according to her phone's location, she'd returned to her apartment.

This isn't happening.

Adrien noticed she was nowhere to be found the next morning.

"She doesn't feel well," Gabriel heard himself say when his son asked where Nathalie had gone. "She returned home and will be taking a few days off."

Adrien looked at him blankly. "Oh."

"What?"

"You said 'returned home'. I thought she'd moved here for good?"

Gabriel could not even be angry with his son's assumption, but his scowl deepened in response to the pang that reverberated through his chest. "I suppose not."

"Is she really okay?"

"Of course," he said automatically, though that couldn't be further from the truth.

He was only grateful Adrien reached out to Nathalie each day she was gone, and relieved to hear that she was responding to him. Gabriel couldn't bring himself to contact her on his own; every time he thought to text or call, he felt paralyzed, trapped in his own head, unfit to confront the harsh and broken reality that existed outside. His heart plummeted at the thought of her, at the distressing question of whether she was safe and taking care of herself, and Gabriel found himself asking his son frequently, "Have you heard from her today?"

It was clear by the smirk on Adrien's face that he found it touching how much his father seemed to worry, but Gabriel bitterly envied his ignorance.

A couple days before the New Year, it was clear Gabriel was never going to break from the icy mist of this dream in time to salvage any piece of the real world. That morning, he called Nathalie and left a message in her voicemail. "It's me. We should meet to talk - actually talk this time. I had no idea, Nathalie. Truly. If I'd known, I would have handled this…" The rest of the sentence died in his throat. A lot differently? With more tact? Would he have even decided to resume his pursuit at all? "Let me know when you're ready."

She got back to him a few hours later, in a text reading, You can come over now.

So he went, terrified, but also so desperate to see her again, desperate to know she was okay as she could possibly be.

Nathalie answered the door looking more put together than he expected given the circumstances. He felt like a mess himself, with his rumpled collar, ungelled hair, and shoes that didn't match his clothes, having been chosen in haste. Nathalie on the other hand had pulled back her hair in its usual neat bun and dusted her eyelids with shadow. She had on a blue flannel shirt that enhanced the color in her eyes, but with the color, it so brought out a frigid vigilance that made him feel unwelcome, even as she gestured inside to beckon him in.

She offered him tea, and as she poured him a mug, from where Gabriel sat at her small kitchen table, he caught sight of the softest curve to her midsection, which he might not have noticed had he not been aware of why it was there. The flannel was a little oversized and hung off her body in most places, but the fabric brushed up against the peak of that little bump. So slight. And yet so visible. Gabriel couldn't stop staring as much as he tried to look away.

He thanked her for the tea, and she sat down across from him, folding her hands on the table and releasing a quiet sigh. For several minutes, neither of them said a word. They sat among the low, distant sounds of rumbling cars out on the street and wind gusts pressing up against the building. Gabriel let his eyes travel around the small apartment, where Nathalie had lived alone for the last several days, and then many years before that. She'd always described it as "a place to sleep." Nothing about the furniture and decor was remarkable or unexpected. Apart from color, her various belongings exhibited no stylistic cohesion. The sofa was modern. The coffee table was vintage. The light fixtures were industrial. Her kitchen was clean but small and as far as he could tell, she didn't possess a TV. The most interesting thing about the apartment was the bookshelf behind her head, filled to the brim with works of various genres and languages. Of everything he saw, that was what would tell somebody anything about the person who lived here, that she was intelligent and curious and knew way more than business and fashion. He figured the last few days, she must have spent much of her time reading. She hadn't worked at all since the 26th.

Eventually, his eyes drifted back to her. She picked at her fingernails and gnawed on her bottom lip, her anxiety palpable. Gabriel wouldn't let her sit in the silence for a moment longer. Gently, he asked, "How far along?"

Nathalie looked up, and then back down again. "Almost eleven weeks."

"That many…" he mumbled. "So we -"

"The middle of October."

It felt like so long ago. Gabriel tried to block the surge of memory. "Did you find out at the doctor?"

"No," she sighed. "I knew a week before then."

"You've known almost a month?"

"Yes…"

"Why didn't you -?" He meant to finish, " - tell me sooner?" but the question seemed unhelpful.

She caught on anyway, eyes flashing and fingernail digging into the cuticle of her thumb. "I was terrified. And I had reason to be, did I not?"

"I know," he soothed, shaking his head at himself. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"Same day you found out. I was thwarted by...you know."

The guilt chewed on his heart, and Gabriel couldn't keep from grimacing. He sipped at his tea to wait for the sting to pass, sending them into another, shorter silence.

Then he asked, "How did you find out?"

"Well," Nathalie quieted her hands and held them against her face as she leaned forward against the table. "I really did think the nausea and vomiting and light-headedness were all just my body's reaction to being regularly active. They felt like...more intense symptoms of what I was going through at the very end of my recovery, but none of it was getting better and I realized I just felt not like myself." She looked at the wall. "The moment the thought first crossed my mind, I kind of knew. I wanted to deny it, but - here we are."

Gabriel couldn't conjure a response beyond a whispered, "Wow."

"Did you never suspect?"

"No. Not at all. Thinking back these last several weeks, I feel like it should have been so obvious, but it never even crossed my mind. I wasn't in the headspace to -" He placed the mug down on the table. "Consider those things."

"You were on another planet, weren't you?"

Cloud Nine. "I guess I was."

Nathalie rubbed her face, unwittingly smudging off some of her foundation.

Gabriel reached a hand halfway across the table, an invitation for comfort, though he doubted she would take him up on it. His heart ached to see her so troubled, after so many shared months of bliss. He didn't realize until now, for how long she must have been hurting in her apprehension to confess her secret. He knew the answer, but he asked anyway, "Have you been alright?"

A little, tired laugh fluttered out of her as she now began fidgeting with the buttons on her sleeve. "Not really."

"I'm sorry."

"These last few days, geez, I don't know where to begin. I think this whole situation has made me feel worse off than I would on my own," she admitted, a sour smile on her lips. "I can't stomach anything. It's driving me insane. My clothes don't fit anymore. I haven't gotten out of bed much. I don't have any energy. I feel stupid and trapped and so, so sick. Honestly, I don't know what to do."

"Nathalie."

"Gabriel." The smile went lopsided, and then it disappeared altogether as her eyes welled with tears. Desperation emanated from her countenance. "I don't know what to do."

"We're going to talk about it."

She cursed and dabbed at her eyes. "Why did I think I could do this?"

Gabriel gritted his teeth. That was a question he would have liked an answer to as well, especially now that its very utterance was telling him that this was something Nathalie had chosen to believe in, that at one point, it did spell something other than disaster for her. But pushing past the astonishment of that, he inched his hand closer and murmured, "Don't beat yourself up."

"I've gone half mad thinking about this," she cried.

"So have I. I'm just now processing it, you know. That's why it took me so long to reach out. I feel awful for leaving you alone with this for all this time."

"No, it's fine. I needed the space. I thought I did anyway, but nothing's changed. I'm still horrified. Gabriel?"

"What?"

She blinked slowly. "You don't want this, do you?"

The question pinched a nerve. Gabriel recoiled, bringing his hand back to his side of the table. "Nathalie, I…" He tried to choose his words carefully. "I was not hoping to ever be a father again, no."

She stared at him through narrowed eyes, her chin dipping up and down ever-so-slightly. "I was never expecting to be a mother."

"I'm surprised you're deciding to keep it, then."

"Gabriel, that doesn't help."

"I know. But - it's not too late, isn't it? To do anything about it?"

"Because that would be such an easy solution," she sneered.

"It would be the only solution."

"That's not what I mean. You don't get it." Nathalie pushed her chair back from the table and went to stand at the kitchen island, spreading her hands across the countertop to steady herself. She grumbled, "Would fix being pregnant, but that's not all there is between us."

He tensed. "Nathalie -"

"Forget it. I've made my choice."

"I don't understand. You seem miserable."

"I am."

"Then why are you deciding to keep it?"

"I don't know," she groaned, putting a hand to her head. "I think I got caught up in the holiday. I started thinking to myself, how nice it would be to have a family this time of year. Maybe this could work. I never used to let myself be fooled by fantasy, but I think I actually started to - to love it." She sniffled and ripped a segment of paper towel from the roll by the sink to wipe her cheeks of the tears. "Maybe I need a fresh start, something to push me forward. If I don't go through with this, then what do I have left? What makes you think I can go back to the way things were? Everything is different now. They were different before this happened."

Gabriel could not protest that, though the reminder of how long he'd let himself be led astray made his skin crawl.

"I need this," she whispered, crushing the paper towel in her fist. "I need something to...to help me move on, if I have to." She paused, blue eyes flickering with an icy melancholy. "Are you really going to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Bring her back."

Now Gabriel rose to his feet, alarmed by the question. "I - I can't answer that."

"You can't answer that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Nathalie, you know I made a promise to her that I would stop at nothing to bring her back to my side. I'm not blaming you for feeling betrayed, but I betrayed her first."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "It sounds like you're going to do it."

"I'm not doing it yet. We still need to figure this out."

"Right. So you know how to hide it from her."

His grip on the chair hardened. The room suddenly felt very cold.

Nathalie regretted saying that. He could see it on her face and in the way she wrung the paper towel in her fist. "Gabriel. I don't want to make you give up on her. A part of me always knew that what we had could end at a moment's notice. I was terrified of you turning heel any time I heard Shadow Moth's name, heard someone mention the word akuma in passing. I wish I hadn't been so idealistic, that I'd steered you the right direction instead of letting myself get tangled up in this mess."

"This isn't your fault," he said.

"No, maybe not. But I could have done something. A lot sooner. It takes two to make a baby."

Baby. This was the first time that word was coming up and it made Gabriel's stomach drop.

"I can't just stand here and think myself to death about what could have been done differently," she continued. "I can't ignore where I am now. This is happening. And I need to know what you want because if I have to do this by myself, I can, and I'd prefer to start now rather than later."

"I'm not letting you do this by yourself." He crossed to the other side of the island. The speed and sureness of his response surprised her, judging by the way her eyes went wide. "This is a horrible thing to go through on your own."

"You need to think about the consequences, Gabriel," she said. "What are people supposed to think about you being the one to support me when I'm pregnant and trying to raise a child? What is Adrien going to think?"

Truth be told, Gabriel had not even thought that far yet, and the question made him freeze up.

"This is what I'm saying. It has to be all or nothing." Nathalie folded her arms over her belly, her gaze dimming with sorrow. Nearly whispering, she went on, "I don't want to pressure you either way. I don't want to pressure you at all, but you need to make a choice. If this was just about me, I could live with it all -"

"Nathalie, don't say that."

" - but it's not just me anymore. It's me and a baby. My baby. So tell me, please, are you really going to bring her back?"

Gabriel couldn't speak. This confrontation blew the breath right out of him, so that he stood there blinking wordlessly back into Nathalie's pained expression, growing all the more hopeless by the second. He didn't want to make the choice now. He didn't want to say goodbye to Emilie forever and prove himself a faithless husband once and for all. He didn't want to cut ties with Nathalie and leave her to face her rapidly changing life all by herself. Neither decision felt like the right one to him.

After half a minute of chilling quiet, Nathalie's visage cracked with anguish and she brought the paper towel to her eyes again, finally breaking his stare as she turned on her heel to face the kitchen sink. "I'm sorry to do this to you," she whimpered.

"Nathalie," he gasped.

"Please, just tell me as soon as you figure it out." She sighed and tossed the towel in the bin under the sink before approaching the front door. In the moment before she pulled it open, about to usher him out to the hallway, she paused, a thought lighting up behind her eyes.

Reluctantly, he stepped out of the kitchen towards her and set a delicate touch on her upper arm.

"I just want to ask before you go," she murmured as her gaze flickered towards his fingers.

Heart in his throat, he prompted, "What?"

"Did you really mean it when you said you used me?"

With the force of a building crashing down, Gabriel was shaken by her words and the magnitude of guilt that thundered through him as he pictured the heartbreak in her face that night: when he told her he'd indulged in her affection for his own satisfaction alone. That same pain was mirrored in her eyes now, wet and red-rimmed desperation that she hadn't heard him correctly, that the words which must have been echoing through her head ever since were utterly false. But she heard him just fine. He was the one who was mistaken, who had told an untruth to hide his own agony at the notion of giving her up like that, and, perhaps, to ease her own pain by suggesting she wasn't losing anything real.

It was real, though. That's the whole reason he was so scared. Because it was entirely, vividly real.

Gabriel inhaled sharply and breathed out his undoubting answer, "No."

Nathalie gaped at him. "You didn't?"

"I didn't mean it at all." He did something he probably didn't deserve to do and wrapped his arms around her, tenderly clasping the back of her head against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Gabriel," she choked, stiff with surprise, but when he started to withdraw, she hugged him back, holding him as close as she could.

"It was an awful mistake, saying that," he murmured against her ear. "To tell you the truth, Nathalie, I love you, and I think that's my whole problem."

"Oh, God," she sighed.

"I love you, and I've loved being with you."

"But you love Emilie too." Now, she pulled away, sinking back against the door. With closed eyes, she tilted her head up, a quivering exhalation rippling through her whole upper body. "That's why it's a problem."

"I wish I could make this simple," he told her. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She grumbled, "Tell me about it."

"Nathalie."

"What?"

"I can't choose now. I'm sorry."

"I know."

"But I want to work at this."

She rolled her head back and forth against her door, a sad bitter smile twisting her lips again. "Work at what? A choice? I don't want to have to earn your favor. I don't want to have to fight for this."

"You shouldn't. That's not fair to you, and you have enough to worry about."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I want to work at myself. I want to work through whatever it is in my head keeping me from knowing what I want."

The smile fell and she dropped her head, peering towards the floor.

"In the meantime, I don't think you should go through this alone," he added.

Her shoulders jumped. "You're inviting me back?"

"I do want you to have support, Nathalie."

"That's a dangerous offering," she said thinly. Gabriel knew this. It wasn't something he could take back, unless he was the cruelest man in the world. He felt all too close to that already.

"I'm aware," he replied.

Nathalie chewed on her thumb nail for a minute, deep in thought, eyes continuously darting between Gabriel's face and the floor. Then, she pushed herself off of the door and brushed past him, going to grab his unfinished tea off the table to dump into the sink.

"Okay," she muttered, rinsing out the mug. "Okay, I'll come back - soon. I think I still need a little more time, and I better give you more space too in case you change your mind."

"I won't."

"In case," she emphasized. "I'm risking a lot here."

Gabriel felt cold-blooded and like he'd aged a decade in just a pair of seconds, overcome with shame.

"You can text me, by the way," said Nathalie. "I think I'd rather hear from you than not."

"I'll check up on you frequently."

"Please. Adrien's messages have kept me from going off the deep end." She had a far-away look in her eye when she said it, before she turned away. "I'll see you soon, Gabriel."

It hurt to leave. Tearing his eyes away from Nathalie, from her sad face and her blue eyes and her blue flannel shirt, so tore a wound into him, but he did as she wished. Without another word, Gabriel opened the door, cast one final look in Nathalie's direction, and departed.

He thought, something was very wrong with him, and he would have to sort it out as soon as he possibly could if either of them were going to make it out of this feeling anything less than miserable.

Chapter Text

Nathalie remained at her apartment until the New Year had passed, and all while she was gone, Gabriel struggled to begin that process of reflection he promised to endure. Each direction into which he ventured posed a threat that left him chilled to the bone. He tried to envision what the future was sure to bring him in a matter of months, but the knowledge that he was to become a father for the second time stopped him cold in the process and shut his mind down. This child could not be his. It was no one else's, but it surely wasn't his. He would not accept something so absurd.

But when his thoughts traveled in the opposite direction, beckoning him towards the vault he hadn't touched since the summer - evoking the memories of magical power coursing through his veins for the sake of ultimate power and ultimate rescue - though conceivable, he found this prospect overwhelming. For over a year since Emilie had fallen into her stasis, Gabriel's life slept alongside her, moored to the moment in time he lost her, unable to be pulled along the tides of change. But then he locked the miraculous away, and his grip on the past slipped free. It seemed the whole world was different now, and somehow he had to find a way to piece Shadow Moth into this unfamiliar image. It would not be an easy task.

Adrien could tell something was off. No longer able to stand the feeling of his son's worried gaze, Gabriel withdrew from their shared meals. Of course, that would only alert Adrien more keenly to the fact that something was gravely wrong here, but Gabriel could tolerate the tension in the air as long as Adrien hadn't the encouragement to ask after its source. Any lie Gabriel could spin would be weak at best and entirely transparent at worst, but he wasn't prepared to engage in any part of this conversation. When Adrien was younger, a lot younger, he used to ask Emilie and Gabriel if he would ever have a sibling (who knew if years growing up with Chloe as the closest thing to a sister turned him off of the idea). Gabriel wasn't confident that at 15, and after having lost one of his parents, the parent he was closer to, in fact, Adrien still possessed that wish.

Adrien tried to get to the bottom of things when Nathalie finally returned, asking her a barrage of questions about her time away, if she was feeling better, why Gabriel was acting so strange. She pulled off her winter jacket to reveal a new, slightly oversized blouse that hid the shape of her body and told him, "Yes, Adrien, I'm much better now. And I can't pretend to know what's going on in your father's head, but I'm sure he was busy trying to keep up with my own workload while I was gone. Now, I will be busy catching up with the things even he has missed."

Lucky for them, Adrien would start school again that month, which meant he would have much less time to wonder about what exactly was going on between them. Meanwhile, Nathalie had meant it when she saw she would be busy. Upon her return, she threw herself back into her job, taking on double of what she had to. For the first several days, she and Gabriel hardly ever spoke on topics unrelated to work. Their interactions felt nearly normal if not for the looming presence of one unignorable elephant, whose magnitude prevented even the most neutral and practical of exchanges from reminding Gabriel of the strain on their relationship. It didn't help that, while Nathalie's morning sickness was slowly becoming less severe as she neared her second trimester, the amount of work she was doing left her noticeably fatigued and faint towards the end of each day, a state that was surely worsened if not primarily caused by the pregnancy. One evening, Nathalie stood up from her chair, and nearly gave Gabriel a heart attack when she lurched, just catching herself on the desk before she could topple over.

"Go lie down," he barked. His tone was hard as steel but fueled by fear alone.

"I'm okay," she murmured, rigidly holding herself up.

"I'm not making a suggestion."

Had Nathalie only herself to worry about, she would have fought him longer, but now, once she'd steadied herself, she promptly straightened her clothes and headed out of the room, sparing him not even a word or a glance more.

Incidents like that didn't slow her down the following day, however. If Gabriel was relentlessly bombarded by the weight of their plight, he knew Nathalie must be even more desperate to escape that reality any way she could.

Their tendency to shun the topic of the pregnancy degenerated near the day of her second prenatal appointment on the tenth of January. Nathalie didn't ask Gabriel to accompany her, but she wasn't secretive about it either. Perhaps, she had hoped he would volunteer to join, but to Gabriel this experience seemed too intimate, too implicating. He wished her luck and left it at that. The unreadable expression on her face as she departed told him nothing at all about how she took his choice, but he doubted she was surprised.

"How did it go?" he asked when she returned, only for the sake of politeness. He wasn't anticipating details, felt he wasn't entitled to them anyway as long as he wandered through this unnavigable indecision.

Nathalie, gaze cast slightly downward as she sat back at her desk, lined her fingertips across the keyboard and told him, "I heard its heartbeat," in a voice that sounded unlike her own.

Across the room, Gabriel felt a part of him turn to stone. "Did you?"

"It was so fast," she murmured.

He didn't know what to say to that, sighing through his teeth.

Nathalie's eyes were directed towards her computer screen, but she didn't look like she was seeing anything. "This is happening," she said, half to herself. "It keeps hitting me. Every time I think I'm getting used to the idea, it just shocks me all over again."

"I know what you mean."

"I was so numb at the first appointment, I think it all washed over me. This time, I heard that sound, saw that grainy little shape of it….The doctor asked me if I wanted a printed image and I said no. I couldn't stand looking at it. I can't believe that's what's inside of me. I can't…" She took a heavy breath.

"Is everything else okay?" he asked, wanting to direct them away from the discomfort of this exchange.

"Relatively," she said.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm fine. Low blood pressure, low blood sugar, etcetera, but that's to be expected. And I'll eat better once my nausea goes away. My headaches have been awful, though." She gave up pretending to be ready to type and rubbed her temples with the bases of her palms. Her eyes darted aimlessly around the room, tension visible in her trembling jaw. She looked overwhelmed.

"You should consider lightening your workload," he said.

"You don't have to worry about it."

"I am worried about you. You're taking on far more than necessary."

"This is just how these things go, I guess. I have to keep myself busy, distracted."

Gabriel glanced back at the half-finished design on his screen. His own drive to work was failing him, all creative energy sapped by his stress. Nathalie's ability to accomplish so much under these circumstances impressed him.

And then, she said something that sent a jolt through his body: "We'll have to tell Adrien soon."

His head snapped back up. "No."

"No?" She blinked at him, quirking an eyebrow. "What do you mean, no? He's going to have to find out eventually."

"I know, but not soon."

"Define soon. I'm showing."

"You're not showing."

"I catch you staring."

"I know. Adrien doesn't. He won't assume."

"Maybe not today, but next week? Two weeks from now? At any rate, I already feel like I have to hide myself from him. Some women still aren't showing by 12 weeks. I'm not so lucky. Haven't you noticed my posture collapse a bit? I feel like if I stand too straight, he'll notice."

This was the most they'd talked about it since she'd returned from her apartment, and Gabriel was gradually shrinking into himself the longer the conversation went on. "Don't you worry about how Adrien will take the news that he's to become an older brother?"

"Of course, I worry, Gabriel, but the baby doesn't care how uneasy I am about it."

Baby. He wondered if she was using that word against him.

"It's not a pretty truth, but we can't make it go away. I suppose you'd much rather him figure it out on his own?"

He scoffed.

"Sounds ridiculous, right?" Nathalie removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright, listen, I'm dreading this too, so I'm more than willing to wait a little while, but I will tell you when we can't put this off anymore."

"Understood."

"Good."

She ended up telling him multiple times, because Gabriel shut the conversation down each instance she brought it up. He wasn't ready. Nathalie had tried to be patient, waiting two full weeks before suggesting it just for the second time, but by then even he could not deny that they were really pushing it. Regardless, when he crossed paths with his son, he could not fathom confessing that he was to potentially father another child. It felt to him like the point of no return, that once Adrien knew, there would be no way for him to sort his head into the disposition of restoring the rest of their family. He couldn't be forced out of that option, marched down another path while all his hope and attachment faded into the distance of the past.

In the meantime, Nathalie tried avoiding Adrien as much as she could, and that meant stacking his schedule with whatever it took to keep him busy. She was sorry to burden him with too much study and piano practice and pointless PR, but she wanted him either up in his room or out of the house as much as possible, and when they did interact, she was sure to either be sitting or holding her tablet in front of her abdomen to hide her increasingly visible baby bump. Following almost every single one of hers and Adrien's exchanges, she would turn to Gabriel and insist, "We have to do it soon."

And he would look away and answer, "Not yet."

It took until Nathalie had reached her fourth month before he finally gave in, and it was only because she threatened to tell Adrien herself if Gabriel refused her one more time. That afternoon, she knocked on Adrien's bedroom door while he was at the piano and entered with a brooding Gabriel trailing behind her like a moody dog.

"Did you come to listen in?" asked Adrien, continuing to play. Nathalie passed by the piano and took a seat on the edge of the sofa while Gabriel patted his son on the shoulder, finally making him glance up from the keys. "Father? What's going on?"

"We need to talk," Gabriel muttered.

"It's important," said Nathalie, waving Adrien over.

With those expressive green eyes of his, so much like his mother's, Adrien looked between his father and Nathalie for a few wary moments before rising from the bench and approaching the other side of the sofa. Gabriel stood over Nathalie's shoulder, intending to remain on his feet. He clasped his hands behind his back, kept his chin up as he looked out towards the fair blue sky. Though his pulse hammered through his blood, though he felt sick with dread and brimming with anger towards himself, he was resolved to conceal it all. He prayed the conversation wouldn't be as painful as he anticipated.

Nathalie looked at him, perhaps to gauge if he was ready, or if he wanted to say anything to begin, but he remained perfectly silent and indecipherable. She sighed, turning her attention back to Adrien.

"Is something wrong?" asked the boy. "You don't seem happy with me."

"No, Adrien, we're not upset," Nathalie assured him with a bit of a forced smile on her face. "We just have some big news to share."

Adrien's manner shifted. Where he'd at first been sitting forward, wringing his hands in his lap and nervously tapping a foot, his spine now went erect. His whole body froze as his eyebrows jumped up in an anticipatory expression that made Gabriel's chest tighten with fear that Adrien could already guess what they were about to reveal.

Nathalie's voice shook as she went on, "This might be a lot to take in. We're still taking it in ourselves. I imagine you are going to have a lot of questions for us, and we will do what we can to answer them, but it's long past time we told you…" She took a deep breath, setting her hand on the armrest, closer to Gabriel, who wished to vanish into thin air, "I'm pregnant. You're going to be an older brother."

Before the words had fully left her mouth, a glaring light flashed across Adrien's face as though a mirror had spun around the sun. Gabriel deflated at the announcement, at the words "older brother", specifically, which had irreversibly entangled him in the crushing weight of this revelation. The baby was his. There was no denying it anymore. If Adrien was its brother, then Gabriel was its father, and it required all of his energy to remain firmly upright with a blank and taut expression.

"You're kidding!" Adrien exclaimed, eyes round as saucers.

Nathalie cupped her midsection. "No, it's true. I'm having a baby."

"Oh my g- I didn't even - wait, wait, wait." Adrien started laughing, holding his hands up to the side of his face. "I thought you were going to tell me you guys were together! I didn't know you'd already - that you'd decided - wow!"

Gabriel was relieved Adrien didn't finish that sentence. The scariest part of this was already over, but he and Nathalie still had to explain that things were not as simple between them as the situation might suggest.

Adrien scooted closer to Nathalie, gazing at her little baby bump. "I never figured it out. How did I never figure it out? It makes so much sense! That's why you two have been acting so strange lately."

"We tried to hide it from you until now. Like I said," Nathalie glanced back at Gabriel, "we're still processing."

"Wait, how far along are you? When are you due?"

"17 weeks. Due on July 22."

"I can't believe this. I've always wanted to be an older brother. I thought it would never happen." Adrien beamed. Gabriel hadn't seen him this happy in...ever. "This is so great! Oh goodness, Nathalie, can I hug you?"

"O-of course," she murmured in heartfelt surprise.

He threw his arms around her, and a solaced sigh streamed out of her lungs as she returned his tight, joyful embrace. This must have been the happiest she's felt about the situation since it began, reassured by the celebration of the boy she's helped to care for for most of his life, who has always seen her as part of the family. Gabriel should have felt some relief in his own heart, but instead, a brisk sourness tainted his enjoyment of the moment, perhaps, even, a twinge of betrayal on behalf of the woman still missing from their lives.

"Congratulations, I'm so happy for you guys," Adrien said as he pulled away.

"That means the world, Adrien," Nathalie replied.

"Father." Adrien bounced to his feet and opened his arms halfway for another celebratory hug, but then he registered Gabriel's austerity, his rigid stance and displeased expression, and the fact that he was pivoted more towards the windows than he was towards either of them. Adrien's arms dropped back down to his sides and he took a small step away. "Father?"

As she looked between father and son, Nathalie let the bright smile slip off of her face.

"This is great, isn't it?" Adrien prompted. He maintained some of his jubilant tone, maybe in hopes of it rubbing off on his father, but his voice was much quieter now, practically a low murmur. When Gabriel failed to respond for several seconds, Adrien flicked his eyes back to Nathalie, who could only shrug helplessly.

"We should tell you," Gabriel finally said, breaking his silence with a heavy rasp, "the situation is complicated."

"Complicated?" Adrien echoed. "Complicated, how?"

"Nathalie and I aren't together," Gabriel declared gruffly, tightening his hands behind his back.

"No," she agreed, "We're not."

"It is unfortunate, but our relationship is not ideal given the circumstances."

Adrien shook his head. "I don't understand. This is your baby, right?"

"Yes," Gabriel answered mechanically.

"But you're not...involved?"

"We were," Nathalie admitted, picking at the leather on the sofa cushion. "We were in a...relationship of sorts for several months. That's over now."

"Because of the baby?" Adrien asked in horror.

"No. For other reasons. Individual reasons." Nathalie looked up at Gabriel, a dull gloom having now suffocated all the cheer that she had shared with Adrien a moment ago.

"But - but how are going to raise a child together if you're not - if you don't -"

"Nathalie," Gabriel said, setting a hand on her shoulder. "May I speak to my son privately?"

A tense stillness settled over the room for a handful of seconds before Nathalie slowly, tiredly got to her feet. "Yes, of course." After dipping her head at Adrien, she stepped out, leaving father and son to their long, uncomfortable staring match.

At last, Gabriel gestured to the sofa. "Sit, Adrien."

"This is because of you, isn't it?"

"Sit."

The golden-haired boy obeyed, dropping onto the couch cushions carelessly as a ragdoll, his distrustful green glare never leaving his father's face.

Gabriel stepped around the coffee table to look at Adrien head-on. "The details of my relationship with Nathalie are not any of your business, Adrien. And neither are they anyone else's. You are not to inform any of your friends or classmates that you are becoming an older sibling until Nathalie and I are ready for the public to know, understand?"

"Yeah, no problem," Adrien muttered.

"Good." Gabriel exhaled sharply and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Now, Adrien, I don't expect, nor do I especially care for you to understand why things between Nathalie and myself are not straight-forward. I'm glad that you can be excited for the arrival of your younger sibling, especially since I know that will make the pregnancy a lot easier on Nathalie, but my own feelings are not going to be so positive. And that is for us to contend with. You are to respect that."

Adrien shot him an appalled glower. "She's carrying your baby."

"You're only 15. I am not surprised that you don't yet comprehend that having a child is not always a good thing."

"You don't think it's good?"

"Not under these conditions."

"What conditions? What 'individual reasons?'" Adrien demanded. "You don't think you and Nathalie should try to work it out for the sake of your kid?"

"As we move forward talking about this, you would be wise to watch your tone," Gabriel warned, dipping his chin towards his throat. "I believe the last several months, you have become too comfortable with arguing with me."

"Because you were acting reasonable for a change," retorted Adrien.

A second later, the indignance in his gaze extinguished as he realized he crossed a line. Adrien dropped his head and murmured, "I'm sorry, Father."

Gabriel took a deep breath to cool his own temper. "Yes, there was a period of time when the relationship between me and Nathalie was in a good place, and I admit that during that time, I was more lenient, more permissive, more patient with you," he said, speaking slowly and calmly, but guarding the sternness of his tone. Adrien listened, studying the space on the floor between his shoes. "That was her influence, no doubt. It was a period of transition; the rest of the world was different as well, but that's the nature of transition periods, they don't last. They bring you from point A from point B, and then it is over."

"You broke up with her."

"We weren't official," Gabriel admitted. "I know that's an uncomfortable thought, but I think you should know that, at least."

"How can you be so close to a person and not be official?"

"There's a lot about adult relationships you have yet to learn."

"It doesn't make sense."

"Like I've said, it's complicated." For so many weeks, Gabriel had banned the thought of confessing to Adrien from his head, and he was completely unprepared for the kind of conversation this situation warranted.

Adrien raised his eyes from the floor, shaking his head in disbelief. "Don't you love her?"

"Son…" Gabriel knew the answer wouldn't make this mess more manageable

"You have to love her. She made you so much happier."

"It's not as simple as that."

"Why not? You either love a person or you don't. You have to know, right? You have to."

"I loved her," Gabriel said, a thorn sinking into his heart.

"Loved?"

He sighed. "I love Nathalie."

"And she loves you?"

Come to think of it, Gabriel had never heard her say so, but he would be foolish not to believe it was true after all they had endured throughout the past several months, after seeing how badly she hurt. "She does."

Adrien stood up, brow descending into a scowl. "Then why can't you be together? Why can't you be happy about raising a child, being a family? How could people who love each other not want to be family?"

"Do you really want to know?" questioned Gabriel.

His son threw his hands out to the side, an I-can-take-it gesture.

"Very well." Gabriel approached the sofa and surprised Adrien by sitting down. Unwilling to let his guard down quite yet, Adrien remained on his feet, watching his father with a bewildered glare.

Despite his chilled, creeping skin, unnerved by the imminence of another moment of vulnerability, Gabriel looked forward and said, "Your mother."

Adrien's challenging visage cracked at once, stony eyes softening to the green of summer. "What?" he breathed.

"I am not ready to move on from your mother, Adrien," Gabriel told him. He rubbed his clammy palms up and down his pant legs. "And quite frankly, I don't understand how you can be so ready to watch it happen. I know you have been ready for some time. That does not make sense to me. You're not even remotely resentful of the fact I am having a child with a woman other than your mother?"

Adrien recoiled. "No. No, Father, I will always love Mom, but...but she's gone, you know?"

Gabriel sank lower into the couch.

"I would never hold it against you for moving forward with your life without her. Is that what you're so concerned about? That I'd be mad at you for, what, betraying her? You're not betraying her. She's not...with us anymore."

You have no idea, he thought, clenching his jaw.

"I think she'd want you to be happy," his son went on, finally sitting beside his father. "She loved you, and she wouldn't want you to be this stuck, feeling like you could never live without her."

"That's enough," Gabriel said, holding out a hand to silence him. He felt ill.

"Father," Adrien whispered. "It's okay."

"I said enough." A biting tone made Adrien flinch back. Gabriel pointed at himself with a flexed pair of fingers, white as bone. "I understand the depths of my own commitments to your mother, and I will not have you tell me what she would have wanted for me. Your input is not what I require to 'move forward'. If she must live on in my heart alone, then so be it."

Adrien's gaze radiated hurt. "I miss her too."

"Then act like it," spat Gabriel.

Immediately, he regretted it.

"No! I'm not going to be miserable like you. I'm not going to make you feel justified." Tears glistened at the corners of his son's eyes. The words slashed deep, stunning Gabriel into silence. "For someone who keeps calling everything 'complicated', you sure do have a black-and-white view of things. I can miss Mom. And be happy too! And I will!"

"Great," scoffed Gabriel. "Must be nice."

"It'd be nicer if you felt the same way." Adrien propelled himself to his feet and stalked back to the piano.

Gabriel jumped up as well. "I haven't dismissed you."

A harsh pair of notes jolted through the air, and Adrien wiped the tear tracks off his face. "I don't get you," he wept. "If that - if that wasn't what moving on looks like then you must...you must really be…" Gabriel could see Adrien working up the courage to finish his sentence, eyebrows twitching over his pained gaze, "...a lost cause."

He slumped down onto the bench, jamming his fingers into the keys. Gabriel winced at the sound.

"I'm sorry you think that," he rumbled.

As Gabriel stormed his way out of the room, Adrien added, "Tell Nathalie I'm so happy for her."

He did not respond. Irate, thundering steps carried him from the bedroom back down to the atelier, where he found Nathalie leaning against her desk, chewing on her thumb nail and staring out the window into the clear February day. She seemed alarmed at his entry. As he shoved open the door and puffed out an indignant breath, she shrank slightly away, blue eyes widening.

"Is everything…?" she started to ask.

Gabriel returned to his work station and fired up his screen. He typed in his password and growled a bitter, "No."

"Shit," she cursed, dropping her forehead into her hand. "He's upset, isn't he? About us?"

"Well, 'us' isn't any of his concern. Just be glad he's thrilled about the new member of the family." Gabriel's voice dripped with scorn. His inbox was filled with countless emails from Audrey Bourgeois about all the happenings during New York's fashion week, which Gabriel was missing for the second year in a row. Last year, Nathalie had gone in his place, but he wasn't letting her travel alone during a high-risk pregnancy. They wouldn't go to London or Milan either, which Audrey was sure to berate them for in the coming weeks. Gabriel wasn't sure he even wanted to bother with Paris. But he started skimming her messages, hoping the reminder of work would do something to moderate his temper.

It took several moments for the silence in the air to register with him. Glassy and unsettled like it was about to break. He looked up from his screen to be met with a crushing blow to the chest.

At her desk, Nathalie's lips had disappeared into a trembling thin line. She'd pushed her glasses up to the top of her head. Her face was pale, her eyes red and watery. She looked at the wall and shook with the effort of trying to hold it together.

A rush of guilt overwhelmed his system. Quietly, all the fire gone from his voice, Gabriel called, "Nathalie?"

She shook her head.

"Nathalie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

He stepped away from his podium and gingerly walked her direction. Nathalie didn't move, merely raised the back of her hand to her mouth and let the first of her tears go. A small sob slid out of her and broke his heart.

"Ugh, I hate this," she groaned, rubbing her eyes. "I cry at everything now."

"I let my anger get the best of me. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I - I just - I wish you'd -" Nathalie took the glasses off her head and dropped them on her desk. "I wish you'd make this easier for him. I don't know what you said, but you're angry and that makes me worried and if it didn't go well that must mean he's upset and I don't know if I can handle him being upset because I'm upset and -" She cut off with a gasp. "Fuck. Stop crying. I'm so tired of crying."

Gabriel put his arm around Nathalie's shoulder and pulled her against him. Perhaps too exhausted to resist, she fell into his chest, panting through her tears.

"Don't worry too much. We tend not to see eye to eye," he muttered.

"What did you tell him, Gabriel?"

"The truth. Why we're not together. I knew he wouldn't understand."

"What did he say?"

Gabriel hesitated. "He asked if we love each other."

"And you said?"

"Yes," he whispered. "We do."

"But it's not that simple?"

"No…"

Nathalie hiccupped and cursed again.

"I mean it, though, that he is happy to be an older brother. You saw him yourself. Nathalie, he's upset with me. I don't want you to fret over it."

"I don't know how I can't."

"He'll be fine. Like you've said," Gabriel grumbled, "It's not a pretty truth. We knew he would not be completely understanding. He is glad for what's most important."

Sighing, Nathalie took the hand on his shoulder, stroking her thumb over the top of his. She remained in his embrace, face pressed against his lapel, body limp and tired, until the tears had slowed and her breathing evened out. Gabriel let her go, hand shifting from her shoulder to cup her cheek.

"You've had a long day. You should turn in early."

"Gabriel, please, it's only three in the afternoon."

"It's alright. Take some time to relax."

"There's so much to do. It's fashion week."

"And everyone representing us in New York right now are the ones who have to worry about it. They'll worry about it for the rest of the month too." Gabriel brushed at a loose strand of hair. "I'm sorry, again."

"I know," she murmured.

Upon her insistence, he allowed her to continue working for another hour, but by then the fatigue seemed to set in deeper and she agreed to finish for the day. After she closed the door behind her on the way out, Gabriel listened to the click of her shoes on the floor quickly fading away. Her presence had kept his agitation at bay, but now that she'd left, a wave of darkness broke and flooded his mind, stopping him cold in the middle of his present task.

You must really be a lost cause.

The words blared like a siren in his head. An urgent warning. A morbid melody. Foreboding his doom. He was stuck. He'd been stuck for weeks now, having not moved a step in any direction, having not untangled himself from the web of guilt and faithlessness tying him down.

If anything was the change for the better, he needed to do something, anything.

The bitter rage in his heart, suffocating him like thick, black clouds of smoke drove him to seek answers in the solution close at hand, the nearest source of air, of something that had sustained him in his time of need and made anything possible. He turned briskly around.

He could show his son that moving forward wasn't the only way to begin again. Everything they wanted was in everything they used to have. So, why not take it all back?

Gabriel pulled Emilie's portrait away, and for the first time since August, pressed the code into the vault in the wall. The door swung open with a soft metallic groan, and he found the miraculous exactly as he'd left them six months ago: propped up against the framed photo of his wife who smiled at the camera and at him, who stood behind it.

He had to bring her back. Adrien had to be wrong.

But, somewhere in between his plucking of the butterfly miraculous from the shelf and his raising it up to his throat, a switch in his head flipped, so that just as he pricked the fabric of his shirt with the brooch's needle, he went stone-still. An abrupt exhale lurched out of his lungs. The miraculous nearly fumbled from his fingers. Gabriel blinked into the vault, at Emilie's photo, at the peacock miraculous still glaring at him from below her countenance. The darkness in his head cleared like the sky.

This didn't make sense. He owed Emilie her life. Wasn't that worth more than anything else? Wasn't it worth more than Adrien's outrage? Than his own mistakes? Than…

Gabriel closed his fist around the miraculous. All of the sudden, he felt very, very tired.

This wasn't what he said he would do, was it, when he told Nathalie he would work at himself? He wasn't supposed to be spurred to act by confusion and insecurity. Nothing was clearer. He was only angrier. Angrier at himself.

Maybe some rest would benefit him as well. Gabriel gently restored the butterfly to its place, left the photo of Emilie with a final apologetic glance, and shut the vault with a slam that reverberated mournfully through the room.

Chapter Text

Plumes of smoke billowed into the sky. From where she stood with her nose to the glass, Nathalie followed the flight of thick black clouds with eyes that could see everything at once. Buildings miles away were crumbling as though they were made of sand, and she knew because all of Paris spread out in front of her face like blocks were inches, like she hung above it all, so high and yet so close. She felt the shake of the city in her bones and the shake of the house in everything else, threatening to throw her off her feet and peel her gaze from the quaking sight.

Despite everything, it was oddly quiet, quiet as a typical Tuesday afternoon. As Nathalie observed the destruction of her city, she was filled with the awe of watching nothing more grand than a thunderstorm, a tame, familiar wonder absent of fear. The person responsible for this looked like somebody she has seen before. Or maybe a few people she has seen before. He was giant but he also had an umbrella but he also could fly but sometimes he was flying on a cloud of birds, weaving their way between the trails of smoke, never coming too close. Yet Nathalie felt like he could see her, that he was looking at her. But maybe not.

She never turned around. She didn't have to. She could see the entire room without moving her head, and behind her, the door was missing. Not only was it missing, but there was no space in the wall left in its place. No way out of here. She was trapped.

Nathalie spread her hands across the glass, and it felt like a wall of water flowing past her fingers. Her bedroom was several stories higher than she remembered it being. Peering down below to the front yard, Nathalie thought, she could jump. She could jump and fall to the earth. The grass would catch her. Or maybe it would swallow her whole. There was no door. The window was the only way out. Then she would be free.

There was somebody next to her. She couldn't see him fully, because she still couldn't turn her head, but she knew who it was. He stood close, almost touched her, but didn't. Where did he come from? He couldn't enter through the door. And wasn't he supposed to be somewhere else? Wasn't he supposed to be making this happen?

She wanted to reach for him, she could not remove her hands from the window. He was on her left side. And then he was on her right. Then he was behind her. He had no reflection in the glass. Neither did she.

His voice was everywhere, the same way her eyes were everywhere. Everywhere but on him. He asked, and he sounded so glad, "Isn't this great?"

"Isn't what great?" She heard herself like her ears were filled with water. She spoke like her cheeks were filled with peanut butter. Or vomit. She tasted vomit.

But he was gone now. Disappeared like smoke. Panic seized her all of the sudden, breaking the liquid flow of her unchanging wonder. She couldn't be alone. He needed to stay. He needed to put a stop to this. Please, please stop. I need you to stop. I can't do this.

Outside, a surge of power blasted through the air. Nathalie did not move as the windows exploded, glass raining across her body and into the room behind her. Teardrop shards splashed across her skin and didn't draw any blood, didn't elicit any pain. Nathalie breathed in the rush of wind buffeting her face.

The house rumbled. Her vision along with it. She couldn't see much of anything now.

The akuma laughed but it sounded like his laugh.

You're free.

She stepped through the blown-out window and plummeted down and down and down and…

Nathalie jerked awake.

It took half a second to realize she was no longer falling to her death. Finding herself safely tucked halfway beneath the bed sheets, the pillow she'd clutched to her chest when falling asleep now precariously hovering over the edge of the other side of the bed, Nathalie's racing pulse slowed down, and she pushed herself upright.

A look at her phone revealed it was one in the morning. She'd only been in bed about three hours, but Nathalie felt like she'd been trying to sleep for twice as many. Drifting in and out of consciousness, her rest was plagued with dreams that fooled her into believing they were reality every time, as senseless as they were. Nathalie could still hear the burst of glass echoing through her head, could still see the rise of the earth to catch her, leaping upwards through the darkness of her room. She pulled her knees up to her chest - or at least as close as she could bring them to her chest these days - and let out a sigh. She was sweating. But she was cold. She wanted to go to sleep. But she didn't want to wake up again. Not for a few good hours at least.

She'd really hoped this wouldn't get to be so hard until much later, but ever since Nathalie had started sleeping alone again, she's barely slept at all. She didn't know why, after nearly an entire life of having a bed to herself, she'd grown so accustomed to sharing one, to the point where all the extra space left behind now made her feel so crushingly alone. Then again, she thought, dropping her forehead towards her knees, being pregnant was probably much more to blame, especially nowadays. She was supposed to be sleeping on her side, which she wasn't used to. Her legs cramped painfully in the night, her back ached, and she was just so anxious. All of the time.

After all those months of pain and exhaustion inflicted by the peacock miraculous, Nathalie thought she'd already be familiarized with substantial fatigue, but her pounding headaches and midday drowsiness were taking their toll, slowing her efficient work pace so significantly that she was now behind, after spending weeks far ahead of schedule. Both Gabriel and her doctor had told her to ease up, and she hadn't complied. Now, her body was forcing her to comply, and she resented it for that. Deeply. Especially because she wasn't making up for it in much-needed rest anyway.

"I hate you," she whispered into the dark.

Nathalie winced at her own words. Lifting her head and straightening her legs, she ran a hand gently down her belly.

"I didn't mean that," she said.

What she really hated was that she felt so much for a person she hadn't even met yet. She wasn't sure what she felt. It must have changed minute to minute. Nathalie didn't think it was ever love, but it was never hate either, and saying that out loud filled her with gut-wrenching guilt. She'd give anything to feel nothing at all, to sense those soft flutters in her lower abdomen, those tiny signs of tiny movement and...and…

She didn't know what. She couldn't imagine letting it go, she couldn't imagine nothing changing.

A few days after they confessed to Adrien, Nathalie started talking to her baby (that's what it was. Her baby), because she'd recognized its first signs of activity, a feeling like little bubbles flitting in her womb. And then she couldn't not talk to it. Because it seemed like it was trying to talk to her. What her baby had to say, she couldn't imagine, but she wished it wasn't so keen on reminding her of how very real it was.

Rubbing circles into her midsection, Nathalie laid back down on her side, eyes on the window and the rhombus of pale light it pressed onto the floor. She imagined the light bursting across the room in a spill of silver, dispersed by flying fragments of glass. She imagined them piercing her skin, the hot and sharp pain, and then the dull, bone-rattling crash of actually reaching the ground.

Nathalie's fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt. She turned and faced the other way.

"Ignore me," she said to the baby.

She lied starkly awake for hours, gaze looming over the empty half of the bed spread out before her. All these weeks and she hadn't drifted from the right side back to the middle. A part of her must have wished it would soon be filled again.

That part of her was most of her, at least.

She missed him.

She missed him so much it hurt.

The pain of missing him drew tears that trailed across the bridge of her nose. One hand still on her stomach, she spread the other out across the vacant bedsheets and began to make small, massaging movements, as if he laid there, as if she stroked his chest, the way she always used to when she was falling asleep under his arm, and he'd press soft and slow kisses to the top her head. They were perfect, they had to be. Too perfect to last. She couldn't deserve something so good. She only deserved to learn what it was like and have it ripped away from her, a loss that left a gaping, bleeding hole inside of her, a punishment for loving to have that which was never hers.

"How dare you?" she murmured. Not to the baby this time.

The thin warble of her fingernails across fabric scraped through the air as she closed her hand into a fist, hard enough to make it shake. Hard enough to break skin. At last.

When the sting in her palm quieted, Nathalie shut her eyes finally floated off to be burdened with dreams until the sunrise.

"Adrien, really, this isn't necessary," she said.

Nonetheless, Nathalie accepted his offering: a small cardboard box containing an éclair iced with dark chocolate and purchased from the Dupain-Cheng patisserie. It was the latest of many mouth-watering gifts Adrien had presented to her over the last few weeks since she confessed to him. Such a thoughtful kid, she should have expected that when she mentioned she'd been craving sweets he would insist on indulging her.

"I know. But I was over at Marinette's studying for an exam anyway, so I thought I might as well get you something," he replied with a shrug.

"That's very kind, Adrien, thank you."

"You deserve it. And so does the baby."

Nathalie dropped her eyes and set the box aside to enjoy for later. Adrien's excitement for his younger sibling had a perplexing effect on her sometimes. Most days, it warmed her heart, uplifted her mood considerably, providing some much needed relief from the cold and dull loneliness afflicting her so persistently these days; but other times, very unpredictable times, Nathalie would feel her spirits rise like a wave in the ocean, and then crash down suddenly and wash throughout her, altering her disposition in the blink of an eye.

This was one of those times. It was no fault of his own. His cheery attitude should have been exactly what she needed, so Nathalie was conscious to maintain her grateful smile, and, once she'd placed the éclair in the upper desk drawer, forced her gaze to meet Adrien's again.

"I appreciate that."

"Yes, Adrien, that's thoughtful of you." The boy turned around to glare at his father standing across the atelier, holding his hands behind his back as he observed the exchange through narrow gray eyes. Gabriel's tone hardly suggested he was pleased with his son's offering. "But you've given Nathalie an excess of baked goods already. There's nothing wrong with the occasional treat, but please be mindful that she should be avoiding an unhealthy diet right now."

"Gabriel, it's okay," she murmured.

"I'm merely trying to look out for you."

"Oh, are you?" Adrien grumbled under his breath.

Nathalie sighed. "Adrien…"

"Sorry."

"What did he say?" asked Gabriel, raising an eyebrow.

"Nevermind," Nathalie said. "Look, Adrien, I've enjoyed all of your gifts very much, and I will enjoy this one too, but your father makes a point."

"I'd rather hear it from you."

"And I'd rather have said it myself. It means a lot to me, really, but how about no more baked treats for a little while, huh? As much as it pains me to say," she added, attempting to joke.

"Okay, no problem."

"Thank you."

Adrien tapped his fingers on Nathalie's desk, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"So, I've been wanting to ask," he went on, before glancing up brightly. "Do you know when you're finding out if it's a boy or a girl?"

Behind him, Gabriel's hands dropped from behind his back, and the keen stare he'd held on them from across the room shifted back towards his work, but Nathalie could tell by the way his eyes froze on the screen that he was still listening closely.

She answered, "I could find out as soon as my next appointment."

"Really?"

"But I don't know if I'll opt to."

"You want to be surprised?"

That was not as much of the reason as Nathalie's terror at the prospect of this situation becoming any realer to her. She could barely even look at her ultrasounds. Knowing the gender, picking out names, decorating a nursery and buying clothes were paralyzing thoughts.

But she said, "Yes."

"Alright! That's exciting," Adrien exclaimed.

"Are you hoping more for either?" wondered Nathalie, trying to maintain the levity.

"I don't know. I always had Felix growing up, and he was kind of like a brother to me. And then Chloe was like a sister - sort of." Adrien considered it for a moment. "No, I don't think I care. I just hope they're healthy."

"Of course. That's all one can ask for."

"How about you, Father?" Adrien looked back at Gabriel and leaned against the desk. At once, Nathalie deflated. "Hoping more for a boy or a girl?"

The face of the older Agreste betrayed the slightest glow of warning. A low grunt rumbled out of him.

"Your father doesn't have to answer that," Nathalie said, reaching to set a hand on Adrien's arm.

"I'm curious."

"No," Gabriel replied, "No preference."

"Ah, yeah, I figured." Adrien smiled at his dad, a smile that could have been perceived as genuine if Nathalie was not all too aware of the enduring tension between them.

It pulled from both sides. Gabriel's bitterness for the situation sparked fire all on its own, but Adrien had his ways of making his displeasure with Gabriel perfectly transparent. While the younger Agreste demonstrated a palpable enthusiasm and affection for the unborn child that Gabriel could not even fake, Nathalie still sensed a simmering anger for his father that burned through to the surface whenever the two of them were in the same room. Lively green eyed would harden over. His smile, when authentic, would warp and then disappear. A protective front would lift in defense of his sibling and the woman carrying it, not to mention with the help of a few offensive projectiles, such as the biting gender question. Nathalie knew how crucially she needed Adrien's support - by now she'd have surely lost it without him - but this corrosive friction was only making her feel worse.

Telling Adrien was simultaneously the best and most damning thing she could have done about this. For weeks, she had been so anxious to confess for fear of him finding out on his own that she wasn't prepared to bear the weight of her commitment to this sorry portrait of a family. The problem was that Nathalie lived with the risk of Gabriel making up his mind, of him finally deciding what he wanted and realizing it was the comfort of his old life rather than the uncertainty of a new one. Had Nathalie still been capable of leaving him to it, she could manage her own heartbreak, but now, Adrien knew. And Adrien wanted everything to do with his sibling. This baby would ruin Gabriel and Emilie's marriage. It would ruin Gabriel and Adrien's relationship. She missed her chance to detach herself from the household and leave something salvageable behind. Nathalie was trapped.

She tried not to think about that. She tried not to let her appreciation for Adrien's tasty gifts and considerate text messages and genuine excitement be interrupted by her own miserable expectations. But that was impossible while she watched Adrien and Gabriel standoff now, burning holes between each other's eyes.

Unable to stand it any longer, Nathalie stood up. "Adrien, thank you again for the éclair. I believe it's time you go prepare for your Chinese lesson later tonight."

He held Gabriel's stare for a moment longer, and then glanced back merrily at her. "Of course, Nathalie."

Hiking his bookbag up his shoulder, Adrien departed the atelier, and when he closed the door behind him, Nathalie released the breath she was holding.

Gabriel's expression softened as he watched her relax. "Are you alright?"

She scoffed. "Don't."

"Nathalie-"

"Please, please don't say anything." Sinking back into her chair, Nathalie cradled her head against a stiff pair of interlocked hands and tried to wait out the stir of anxiety in her lungs. A frosty silence continued long enough to eventually thaw, after which she heard Gabriel let out a long and steady sigh.

She ran her palms across the sides of her head, smoothing out her hair, and looked up at him.

All at once, Nathalie had a million things to say, questions and complaints and emotions she didn't know how to put into words but needed to express somehow. She wanted to tell him everything that she was feeling, everything he already knew, and everything she'd been keeping to herself to let eat her alive. She wanted to tell him how hard this was. She wanted to tell him she loved him. She wanted to tell him she thought about leaving every day but didn't know where to go and had come to think there wasn't any place on earth she'd be okay. She wanted to tell him about her dreams. She wanted to sleep with him again. She wanted to fall asleep forever. She wanted him. She wanted to give up.

Instead, swallowing the hitch in her breath as he blinked at her apologetically, she croaked, "I need help."

Gabriel stepped out from behind his computer. Worry was etched across his brow in a heavy crease. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," she breathed.

"Oh, Nathalie…"

"You say that," she muttered, digging her nails into her palms again. "You say, 'Oh, Nathalie' as if you - no, I know that you care, but you're not -"

He was walking slowly in her direction. Nathalie's lip trembled as she tried not to cry.

"I feel so guilty for asking anything of you," she divulged. "I'm afraid it's going to drive you away."

And now he stopped in his tracks, briskly inhaling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No. No, Nathalie. You have nothing to be sorry for." Gabriel watched her for a moment longer, visibly processing her grievous words. Then, continuing even slower than he had moved before, he approached her again. Nathalie kept her head down as he knelt beside her chair. "I'm sorry that I make you feel that way," he murmured.

"Gabriel, you need to…" She studied the divots in her palms, forcing the words out of her tight, aching throat, "You need to do something about that. I can't wait forever for you."

He swallowed hard. "I know."

"I don't want to pressure you," she went on quietly. "But you said you would work on yourself and you're -"

"I'm not," he sighed.

"I need you to try."

Nathalie reached out and began carding her fingers through Gabriel's hair.

"The longer this goes on the more I fear we are letting something break beyond repair. I've never seen Adrien so...angry with you, and never relenting. You know, even when he has been upset with you before, it would never last. He always had hope you would come through for him, always had patience. I don't see that anymore."

Gabriel pressed his eyes closed.

"You won't...you won't have time to make up your mind once the baby gets here. Adrien has chosen his side. It might be too late already."

"God," Gabriel muttered.

She trailed her fingers from his scalp down to his jaw, and lifted his head by an inch. Those stormy gray eyes cracked open to make her heart lurch. "I don't want to tell you what to decide," she assured him, rubbing her thumb beneath his chin. "What good would that do, anyway? You know what I want. But I would like you to consider something. It would mean a lot to me."

"What is it?"

"Maybe you should talk to somebody."

Gabriel didn't appear to know what she meant at first, but after a second or two, his visage flashed in alarm.

Wincing, Nathalie pulled her hand away. "Gabriel, if you are struggling to make a choice on your own, then don't you think a professional could help clarify things for you?"

"I can't tell a therapist I'm Shadow Moth," he replied, grumbling through his teeth.

"No, I'd never suggest that you admit that, but after Christmas, you said you would work through whatever was preventing you from knowing what you want. This would help you."

"I can't."

"Please, please consider it," she urged him. "There is a way to talk about this without bringing Shadow Moth and the miraculous into the conversation. Gabriel, your battle is with grief and with change, not with magic."

"But it is the existence of magic that prevents me from moving forward," he said.

Nathalie widened her eyes. That was the most definitive statement on the matter Gabriel had made since their talk in her apartment over two months ago. She said nothing.

"If I didn't know there was a way to revive Emilie, I wouldn't feel like this. That's the problem," he told her, rising from his knee. "How can I, of all people, accept that she's gone when I am cursed with the knowledge of how to bring her back? That power rests in my hands alone. It haunts me every day. Giving that up would feel like...it would feel like…"

"Killing her," Nathalie whispered.

Gabriel blanched. "Or - like I am the one responsible for her being...no more."

"I'm sorry. My word choice was poor." Nathalie wasn't going to ask the question looming in her mind, the question that rose out of the dark when he said, I wouldn't feel like this. He wouldn't feel like this if he lost Emilie any other way. He wouldn't feel like this if she wasn't hanging by a thread only he could cut or use to reel her back in. Nathalie knew change terrified him. She knew that was part of the problem, that he would flounder had Emilie been taken by some natural force instead, but it wouldn't tear him two directions the way it was tearing him now. And so the question in Nathalie's head, the question she wouldn't dare ask aloud, hovered among her thoughts like a stifling fog, drifted quietly into the realm of all the other things she didn't know how to say: You don't love her like you used to, do you?

She gave a low hum and let the moment make its own way out of the awkward atmosphere before she spoke again, breaking through his pensive veneer. "I still need you to do something. I feel - I feel really alone. I feel trapped, waiting for you."

Gabriel placed his hand over hers on the desk. "No, I shouldn't let you feel like that. I'm going to consider it."

"Consider - therapy?" she asked, surprised.

"Even if it doesn't solve my problem, it could help me to," he rumbled.

An immense relief flooded through her. In the greater picture of things, he was promising so little, not even to go, but to consider going, but it was more than she'd expected to receive in the moment and she couldn't contain her appreciation for it. Nathalie got to her feet and dropped her head against Gabriel's shoulder, linking her fingers behind his back. She breathed out a soft, "Thank you," as he relaxed into her embrace.

Gabriel rubbed a circle between her shoulder blades. She heard the smile in his voice as he replied, "It truly is the least I can do."

After a couple heartbeats, they withdrew, letting their hands linger on the other's body a second longer than necessary. Nathalie straightened out her sweater as the height of her satisfaction ebbed back, and it left on her lips, a faint smile. "I understand if you'd rather look into it yourself," she began, "but if you'd like, I could research therapists, even find one who will offer sessions virtually if that would make you more -"

Suddenly, Nathalie jolted.

"What?" Gabriel fretted, taking her arm.

A sharp exhale left her. Nathalie cupped her hand over her lower belly.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," she answered thinly. The whole world had somehow veered just slightly to the left. Nathalie's voice clung to the walls of her throat as she murmured, "It kicked."

"It-"

"The baby kicked." She lowered herself back into her chair, massaging the place she'd felt that quick little jab.

Gabriel watched her with his eyes switching between her face and rounding midsection. "Was that the first time?"

"I've felt it move before." She demonstrated by fluttering her fingers softly through the air. "Like that. This was the first time it -" Nathalie jerked her fist.

"How did it feel?"

"Startling."

His expression was completely unreadable. Nathalie took a deep breath and pulled herself back up to her desk, tucking her belly out of view.

"Should I...do that research for you, Sir?" she asked, and then pursed her lips. She hadn't called him Sir in half a year.

He noticed this.

"Gabriel?" she corrected.

Strange, correcting to his name.

She almost wanted to apologize.

She really didn't know what to say at all.

The baby kicked and she'd stopped thinking.

So did he apparently, for she received no response. He stood there like a rock, staring into the space between them. And then, he broke his silence and asked her, "Are you going to tell Adrien?"

"About - therapy?"

"About the kick."

"Oh." Nathalie reached for her phone. "Right, I should. He'll be excited."

"Very," Gabriel agreed.

He left her with that. Nathalie's fingers hovered over her phone's keys for several moments before she finally found herself capable of typing out a message. Across the room, Gabriel returned to his work, or he tried to at least. Some strange aura hung about him for the rest of the day, as though the force of gravity tugged at him stronger than anything else, a slow and murky aspect Nathalie found herself fighting through all the same.

A couple hours had passed before it occurred to him to answer her question. "Yes, Nathalie. You can research therapists in the area. That would be helpful," he said, as though he was reading the words off a page.

Nathalie nodded at him. Soon after, taking her éclair out of the drawer, she retired from the atelier for the night, and once she'd stepped foot into the atrium, only then did the bizarre pressure holding steadily around her finally give, collapsing like a wave of sound into silence.

"Good night," Gabriel had called after her, his voice sounding a mile away.

"Good night," she whispered back, thinking about how much had shifted. So suddenly.

The baby kicked, and it had shaken the whole room.

The baby kicked, and it was like he felt it too.

Chapter Text

"Wow," Adrien said, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. The longer he stared, the bigger his eyes and his smile became, until he was a full moon beaming ear to ear. "That's amazing!"

Doctor Merle grinned at him. She moved the wand a little, slightly shifting the grainy image. "Isn't it? That looks like a healthy baby to me. And oh - see that, you can make out its hand."

"You can!" Adrien exclaimed. "Oh my gosh, I'm going to die."

Nathalie made herself look, prying her gaze off of the ceiling. What she saw reminded her of any other sonogram she's seen in movies and pictures in the books she could hardly bring herself to skim. When she caught the hand Adrien and the doctor were talking about, shaped like a tiny white fist by the fetus's head, she swallowed roughly and cleared her throat.

"Everything is looking good, Nathalie," Merle said. "Baby's in the right position. Heart rate is what it should be. Organs are developing properly."

"Good," Nathalie rasped.

"Let's measure." Merle froze the image, and Nathalie looked away again as she scooted her chair closer to get a good look of the hash marks on the screen. Adrien stared with his hands folded under his chin, visibly enchanted by the glimpse of his younger sibling.

"This is incredible, Nathalie," he murmured with sparkling eyes. "Thank you for letting me come."

"Of course." Through no fault of his own, she was regretting it now. She thought Adrien's excitement over the matter would quell some of the discomfort and churning anxiety that always followed her to appointments, but Nathalie was devoting an awful lot of focus right now to trying not to hyperventilate. She never used to panic like this. A level head was her pride. But she also never used to end up in situations that left her feeling frozen and exposed.

"Head's looking the right size. Moving on." Merle unfroze the image and began skimming the wand around some more. Nathalie shivered. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Baby's cooperating too, which means this'll go faster. Tell me about fetal movement. Feeling any kicks?"

"Yes," Nathalie said again, in the same stilted tone.

"Awesome, since when?"

"A few weeks now. Smaller movements a couple weeks before that."

"Everything else feeling alright?"

"Apart from some terrible migraines."

"Have you been taking iron supplements?"

Nathalie bit her lip.

"You perinatologist has told me your iron is low. That's normal, but we still recommend watching it."

"I know, I just - forget."

"I see."

Merle continued her assessment onscreen. Scraping her fingernails up and down her palms, Nathalie took a deep breath and tried to keep her attention on one of the many informational posters on the wall.

"Sorry if this is a little boring," she told Adrien after several minutes of silence.

"No, are you kidding? I can't believe I'm actually seeing pictures of my little sibling before they're even here," he replied.

"I can send you home with a printed copy or two," offered Merle.

Nathalie almost refused, but she caught Adrien nodding eagerly out of the corner of her eye and she sealed her lips.

"I can't believe Father would want to miss this," he grumbled a moment later.

"It's fine," she whispered.

"No, it's not fine. It's his baby and he's nowhere to be found. But I don't know why I should be surprised. Considering everything." Adrien blew at some of the hair above his eyes and shook his head. "Whatever, his loss."

Merle cleared her throat, gaze briefly shifting from the screen to give the pair a sideways glance. "Almost done here. Adrien, you'll return to the waiting room for the rest of Nathalie's appointment. I'll make sure you leave with a picture."

"Great! Thank you, doc," he said. After swiping his book bag from the plastic chair by the door and giving Nathalie a little wave, he headed out.

"Thirty and a half centimeters long right now," Merle said, before removing the wand from Nathalie's skin and rising to her feet. "That's a little longer than normal for right now, but you're a tall mama. How about the father, also tall?"

"Very," Nathalie hummed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

Merle dipped her head wordlessly. She was quiet printing out the sonogram image for Adrien as Nathalie wiped the jelly from her stomach. A solemn expression emphasized her sharp bone structure and intensity of her dark eyes. She didn't seem too much older than Nathalie, but the contrast between the gregarious mien she'd exhibited throughout the appointment and her severe appearance now aged her ten years at once, and it made Nathalie feel uneasy.

Once the image was printed, she handed it to Nathalie who did not even take a glance before slipping it into her purse, and then she leaned back against the counter, folding her arms over her chest.

"Nathalie."

"Hm?"

"I'm worried about you."

At once, Nathalie sensed herself growing smaller. And perhaps a little miffed. Dr. Merle wasn't her usual practitioner. This was only their second time meeting, and Merle and told her during both ultrasounds that everything was going smoothly. She wasn't very interested in hearing about any concerns that couldn't be detected in a sonogram. These appointments felt invasive enough.

Merle went on, "You were late today. And you rescheduled three times. This ultrasound would normally happen weeks sooner. With a high-risk pregnancy, you should really be on time with these kinds of things. This pattern isn't a good sign."

"I'll keep that in mind," answered Nathalie robotically.

"You also mentioned forgetting to take your iron."

"Doesn't pregnancy make you forgetful?"

"Yes, but does no one remind you?"

Nathalie's mouth was dry.

Moving her hands to her hips, Merle pursed her lips and studied Nathalie for a minute. Then, she went to the door, opening it a crack to check for anybody nearby, and then closed it again.

"Something Adrien said to you troubled me," she said quietly. "Dr. Travert told me you've been coming to your appointments alone - which is fine, some women prefer that, early on especially. However, your boy seemed to suggest that the baby's father is disinterested. Is that correct?"

Nathalie stared at Merle, utterly unable to respond.

"Do you live with him? Nathalie?"

"Y-yes."

"And you come across to me as very shaky. Fearful, even. Do you see why that would concern me?"

Everything inside of Nathalie plunged low. Her palms itched. She fought the urge to tear at her skin as if that could make her less visible. Her fingers curled around the edge of the examination table, holding on for dear life.

Merle took a few gingerly steps towards her. Her eyes were wide and glimmered with intense worry. Voice barely higher than a whisper, she asked, "Nathalie, are you safe?"

Tilting back her head, Nathalie's breath escaped her, piercing, almost like a whine.

"Do you need help?" Merle asked instead. At this, Nathalie could have laughed - with scorn - for herself who suddenly could not conceal anything. But she didn't laugh. She still could not respond. Slow tears gathered and blurred her vision of the ceiling tiles, and Merle placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Answer yes or no, okay? Are you in danger?"

"Yes," Nathalie gasped. The answer tore upwards like a thorn scraping her throat.

Merle gave a slow, grim nod of her head. She attempted to comfort Nathalie by softly rubbing her arm. "Who are you in danger from?"

Hand dense as a cinder block, Nathalie reached up shakily and pointed at herself.

Merle wasn't expecting that. Her grip slid away. Her dark eyes went darker as she took in the meaning of Nathalie's gesture.

Unable to hold them up anymore, Nathalie dropped her head and her hand and heaved roughly. Merle snapped back into doctor-mode and told Nathalie to lie back down. She pulled her chair up to the examination table to coach Nathalie through her breathing, trying to calm her panic, trying to help her reach a state of mind where she could explain herself. When Nathalie's coarse gasps evened out, she accepted the paper cup of water the doctor offered, and swallowed it all at once.

Merle took the empty cup and tossed it in the waste bin. Turning slowly back to Nathalie, she folded her hands in her lap and said, "You don't feel safe."

Nathalie shook her head.

"From yourself."

Again.

"Okay, let's talk about that," Merle sighed. "Do you want to harm yourself?"

Nathalie grimaced. She clasped her hands under her belly to avoid scratching at her palms again. "Maybe."

"Thoughts of suicide?"

"Maybe."

"Do you want to harm others?"

"No."

"Why might you want to harm yourself?"

This received no reply. Nathalie didn't know how to answer succinctly, and she was already so overwhelmed that she could not bring herself to provide a full explanation. Merle's concerned stare was drilling into Nathalie's skull. She felt dizzy. And like she was going to throw up.

"I'm asking these questions because a mental health crisis is always very serious, but it's especially worrisome when you're pregnant. You're at higher risk for complications, preterm labor, fetal underdevelopment, and that's on top of the risk you pose to yourself anyway. According to your records, you don't have a history of mental illness that we're aware of. If this came out of nowhere, that's another big cause for concern."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is," Nathalie bit back. A burst of flame surged through her blood. Guilt had a way with her that stoked a bright and violent anger she could not withhold, but once it had rushed forth, it died back down again. She scrunched her eyes shut, frustrated and embarrassed by the outburst.

"Why do you think that?" pressed Merle softly.

Nathalie said, "I want to go home."

"Okay. I need to make sure I don't have to call anyone immediately. Do you plan to hurt yourself any time soon?"

"No."

"And nobody else is threatening you, correct?"

"Correct."

Nathalie slowly opened her eyes again to watch Merle wheeling her chair over to the computer. "We need to keep an eye on this, okay? I'm going to refer you to a social worker."

"Doctor -"

"Use the information or don't. I want it to be available to you. They can determine the kind of treatment you need. Unfortunately, when you're pregnant, options are a little limited."

Nathalie wordlessly received the reference and said goodbye to Merle, who watched her leave the room with lips pressed tight and a brow creased with worry. Walking the narrow hallway back to the waiting room, Nathalie ran her hand along the curve of her belly in hopes of feeling some kind of astonishing jab which would propel her out of her own head long enough to forget the relentless force pummeling her now, long enough to escape the shame and dread and sit in the relief of knowing a person has seen how hurt she was. Because it was a relief, it had to be. It was what she had needed all this time. She'd call the number and get some help and survive this somehow. It would sink in eventually.

But until then, she felt nothing in her womb. She was nearly numb in the legs as she walked onwards to the exit, yearning for what she was too senseless not to want: to have never needed help at all.

When she entered the waiting room, Adrien jumped to his feet, smiling wide as ever.

"All good?"

Instead of answering, she slipped the sonogram out of her purse and handed it over. Holding that photo of his little sibling in his fingers, Adrien beamed with so much love and joy that some of the weight in Nathalie's heavy heart melted away.

"Look at that! I can't wait to finally meet them," he mused, his green eyes shining with happy tears. He glanced up. "Are you sure you don't want to hold on to this one?"

She shook her head. "You can keep it." And then, to Adrien's surprise, she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, letting out a trembling sigh.

"Whoa, you alright?" he asked, hesitantly giving her a few pats on the back.

"Thanks for coming," she mumbled.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"Don't hold it against your father, okay? He's not a bad man. I don't want people to think - I don't want you to think that he's not trying."

Adrien made a small, apologetic noise. "I just wish he was here."

"So do I." Nathalie released him and tapped the sonogram with her pinkie. "I want you to show that to him."

"I will."

"And be nice."

"I will."

"Okay." Nathalie tucked back a loose lock of hair and pushed her glasses up her nose. "Let's go home. You have fencing later."

At 3:15 in the morning, something pulled her out of bed.

The need to pee, she assumed. After lying awake for over an hour, she finally got up to use the bathroom, but once Nathalie had washed her hands, flicked off the light, and stepped back out to her moonlit bedroom, something in her head slipped out of place. She paused at the edge of the rug beneath the bed. The heels of her feet pressed into the cool hardwood floor, toes brushing against the rug's rough fibers. She couldn't move. Nathalie stared at her empty bed, at the corner of the duvet folded over the mattress like the corner of a book page, and realized she was far too restless to climb back in.

The remainder of the day had been spent in a daze, skimming through meeting transcripts mindlessly, making errors in Adrien's schedule for the following week, needing Gabriel to repeat all his questions to her twice or more. As clearly as he spoke, she couldn't process it. Maybe he wasn't saying what she wanted to hear. Maybe she was waiting for him to apply that pressure she knew he was withholding. Gabriel was well-aware by now how she behaved after returning from the doctor, like all her thoughts had been translated through a thousand languages she didn't know. He tried not to ask too much. He tried to keep her mind off of it. But Nathalie was held down. Drowning in it. And there was no distraction powerful enough to pull the tide back.

Twelve hours later, something still wasn't right in her head. Nathalie didn't feel fully awake. Nor did she feel like she could sleep if she tried. Hovering in some liminal space between consciousness and unreality, Nathalie longed for a sensation which would snap her back to her senses, something sharp and jolting and…

Something that wouldn't hurt.

She pried apart her fists, which she hadn't even noticed she'd formed, and retrieved her robe from the hook on the bathroom door. Off the black and white surfaces of the atrium, the bulbous waxing moon reflected its crisp cool light, gleaming through the front window directly onto the marble stairs. Nathalie descended slowly, hand sliding down the rail, toes curling over the edge of each step. She tried to feel everything. What her fingers and feet could touch, her mind was still numb to. Her heart pounded. She didn't know why.

Nathalie made her way to the kitchen, cutting through the dining room to test if scraping her nails across the wooden table would spark anything in her head. It didn't. The door to the kitchen was cracked open. Nathalie didn't think anything of it until she pushed her way through and frightened the man already present with her sudden entrance.

"Nathalie!" Gabriel exclaimed, after flinching so hard, some of his drink spilled out of his glass. He pocketed something, perhaps his phone, as he recovered from the scare.

She shut the door and whispered, "Sorry."

"It's okay, You caught me off guard." Gabriel set his glass down and grabbed a dish towel from beside the sink. Cleaning the spill off the island, he glanced back towards the door, where she still stood tying the belt of her robe above her midsection. "What are you doing down here? It's almost 3."

"Ice," she said.

"Ice?"

"I need ice."

He blinked at her. "For a bruise, you mean?"

"No." Nathalie surged over to the freezer, setting the kitchen aglow with a piercing white light as she dragged it open and reached for the ice box. Gabriel watched her. His swiping motions of the towel across the marble countertop slowed until he was standing perfectly still in Nathalie's peripheral vision. She tossed an ice cube into her mouth. The freezer door thundered shut and she leaned against the fridge, squeezing the ice between her teeth and listening to it creak under the pressure of the bite.

Gabriel noticed her breathing rapidly. "Be careful not to choke."

"It'll melt," she returned.

The shock of the cold rippled through her. Nathalie folded her arms across the refrigerator door and rested her forehead upon them. She bit down. Over and over until the cube finally snapped in her teeth. The chill was almost painful but she could feel it slicing through her stupor, and the spectral, shadowy whirlwind fogging up her mind gradually dissipated. Now she chewed, puffing out cold breaths every few seconds, until most of the ice had melted and she could swallow it.

"Better?" she heard Gabriel whisper, accompanied by the sound of his glass grinding against the countertop as he picked it up.

"I feel crazy," she muttered.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I can't ever sleep. I'm so sick of not sleeping. I never stop thinking yet it feels like I'm not thinking at all, and now I'm completely losing my mind."

"You're not losing your mind," he told her.

"I must be. You have no clue." Nathalie raised her head off the cushion of her plush sleeves and cast a tired glance his way. He swirled the contents of his drink that he didn't spill. "What are you doing awake?"

"Same trouble."

"Can't sleep either?"

"I come down here all of the time."

"And stand in the dark?"

"I have a drink."

Nathalie passed around the island and grabbed his glass from him, taking a sniff.

"I wouldn't recommend it for you," he said with a chuckle.

"Brandy, Gabriel? At 3 AM?"

"Just a splash. Calms my nerves, helps me sleep."

"I'm sure there are much better things you could try."

"Probably." He grabbed the glass back and took a sip, holding her gaze with the smallest playful glint, visible through the dark silver room.

"Have a smoke while you're at it," she grumbled.

"Don't tempt me."

"On the topic of coping mechanisms," she murmured, "Tell me you've looked into any of those therapists I've recommended to you. It's been weeks. One of them has to seem right for you."

His mischievous smirk vanished. "Ah…"

"You've been thinking about it, right?"

"Yes." He took another sip and placed the glass down again. A rumbling sigh joined the low hum of the freezer. "I'm still not completely sure about this."

"There has to be one that even slightly appeals to you."

"I don't think this idea could ever 'appeal' to me."

"What does? Surely the satisfaction of making a decision," she pressed, to which Gabriel screwed his eyes closed, the tension in his face aging him. With a nervous glance at the floor, Nathalie said, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Nathalie."

"I shouldn't pressure you."

"Clearly, I need to hear it. You're doing nothing wrong, dear."

Dear. Nathalie raised her eyes again.

He was running one hand down the side of his face and blinking his eyes back open. Nathalie watched his irises flit minutely. They took nothing in, reflecting outwards the depth of thought in which he was engaged. Half-a-minute of silence passed before he uttered, "I'll try one session."

She bit her inner cheek. "Gabriel, that - that's not really how it works. You kind of have to go routinely in order to experience any benefit."

"For a situation involving such delicate variables, I think it is important to gauge whether progress would require me to come clean about certain things best kept hidden." He grabbed his glass and swallowed the rest of the brandy, nearly a mouthful. He cringed at the burn. "If yes, I won't continue. I'll have to go forth on my own."

As he turned around to set his glass in the sink, Nathalie suppressed a sigh of disappointment. She could not act as if she hadn't expected this. But she wouldn't leave it alone either. Just a day ago, she might have, wary of burdening him with her troubles while he could barely tolerate his own; now, she faced the thick darkness of a similar prospect; she knew the fear that tolled and trembled deep as bone. Nathalie sat on one of the rarely used stools pulled up to the island, rubbing her aching back and shaking the nerves out from under her skin. "If it makes you feel any better," she muttered, drawing his attention back from the window and the clear night sky beyond it, "You aren't the only person in need of some psychological help."

Concern wrinkled his brow. "What do you mean?"

"To put it bluntly, I'm unwell. Though, I can't imagine that's much of a surprise." She traced the veins in the marble with the tip of her finger. "I've said it a hundred different ways already. There's just something about being confronted by your doctor and having an anxiety attack in front of her that makes it official, you know?"

"Nathalie," he began, though he stopped there, sharply intaking a shallow breath.

"I have the number to a social worker who specializes in depression in pregnant women and postpartum," she explained. Gabriel blanched, and she reached her hand towards him, curling her fingers over the edge of the countertop. "Don't worry yourself too much. This is good. I'll be taken care of. They'll help me."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it was that bad."

"It's not that bad," she lied. It wasn't her plan to lie, but the longer they talked about her, the further they drifted from the point she was eager to make. Gabriel didn't seem all too convinced, though, shaking his head at her. "It's just - something they have to keep an eye on."

"Will they medicate you?"

"From what I understand, they try not to when you're pregnant. Not unless they must. But there are other options, like talk therapy." She let that sentence hang in the air for a moment, watching Gabriel's face for a sign he understood what she was getting at.

He stepped towards her and grabbed her hand off the counter. Both were silent as he brushed his thumb down each one of her fingers. Nathalie's heart fluttered at the affectionate gesture. She wondered if he knew what he was doing. She always wondered if he knew what he was doing, if he knew how badly she never wanted him to stop.

Breaking through the veil of her languishing thoughts, she finally whispered, "I want you to get help too."

His thumb paused.

"You don't just need it for me," she went on. "Or for Emilie. Or for Adrien, either. You need it for you. I want you to do it for you. And I know how scared you are because I'm terrified to do this. I'm terrified of what it's going to ask me to confront, but I have to believe it's going to work. We should both do it, Gabriel." She turned her hand to grasp his. "Will you?"

A storm of thought blitzed through his eyes as he studied their firm holds on each other. The night came to a rigid lull, the kind which seizes a room when something shakes it, and a vase rattles into stillness at the edge of a table. One more lurch in the wrong direction and something was bound to break.

But then he dipped his chin, murmured, "Yes," murmured, "I promise." And to him, those must have been such dangerous words. She could feel them in the air, sharp-edged and conductive, raising the hair on the back of her neck.

"We'll both be okay," she assured him. "I'm calling tomorrow. Will you do the same?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. We'll make it through this." Nathalie released his hand. Having not realized until now that she had been leaning towards him, she reclined into the back of the stool and filled her lungs with electric air.

"Had Adrien been there for this conversation?" Gabriel wondered, tapping his fingernails on the countertop.

"No. Dr. Merle had him leave the room. He knows nothing about it."

"I didn't think so. He told me at dinner that everything went well."

"Everything did go well." Nathalie tilted her head. "For the baby."

"Geez," growled Gabriel, and she chuckled.

Then, as the vase shatters without warning, Gabriel told her, "Adrien gave me the sonogram."

"What?"

He blinked at her, watching as the words sank in.

More than the biting cold of ice on her teeth, this jarred her. Nathalie froze. She went still enough to feel the pulse of her skin above her beating heart.

"Adrien," Gabriel said. "He gave -"

"He gave you the sonogram?"

Gabriel reached into the pocket of his robe. Through the dark, Nathalie could nearly make out the pale shape of her baby on the picture he held up to her. She drew in a crisp breath. Without taking her eyes off of it, she slid off the stool, stepped towards the wall, and fumbled for the light switch beneath the cabinet. The second the kitchen was flooded with light, Nathalie took the sonogram out of his hand and held it up close to her face. Somehow, she wasn't convinced it was real.

"He gave you this?" she said again, whispering this time, tracing over every line and shape she could make out. "I didn't tell him to do that."

"I know. He only meant to show it to me. But then he asked if I wanted to keep it."

The baby held up a little fist, just like she'd seen it do earlier. "And you did?"

"I...I wanted to hold on to it. For a day at least."

Nathalie finally looked up at him. "You were looking at this when I came in."

"I haven't been able to sleep at all," he said. Blue-gray eyes flicked up, drops of turbulent ocean. "He showed me at dinner. I haven't stopped thinking about it since."

"Gabriel…"

"I just - I don't know how to feel. When I look at it, I don't see my child. It's just a shape. But when I look away…" He shook his head and gently plucked the photo from Nathalie's stiff fingers. "It's stuck in my head, like it's been tattooed there. And then, when I close my eyes, I can see it move."

Ice was lodged in Nathalie's throat. Breathless and shivering, she watched him examine the image.

"It forced me to think about how much you have to deal with on your own. Even if I...was there, you have to carry it with you everywhere you go. You have to watch your body grow and change. There'd be so much I couldn't understand regardless of how close I stood by, but...I couldn't imagine how it would have felt to watch this. And I could have known. I was there for Adrien, but it was so long ago, and all I can remember is how nervous I was. Out of my mind. I'm rambling," he said. He placed the photo on the counter. "My point is, I should have been there. I'm sorry I wasn't."

At a loss for words, Nathalie glanced at the sonogram again. The truth was, she didn't even feel like she had been there for it. This was the first time she was truly looking at the picture, truly looking at her child, and it didn't push her within an inch of life like she feared it would. She knew that was absurd, but maybe part of the reason it was easier was because of Gabriel, because she knew he had been staring at this picture for hours, because there was something - not love, not hate - that kept his attention all this time.

"There they are," she mused hoarsely, drawing her finger softly around the shape of its head. "Our baby."

Gabriel gazed at her. The room was thick with something treacherous and alive. His arm brushed up against her shoulder. "Our baby."

And just like that, she melted.

He saw the look on her face. He saw her break down so hard and so fast that there was nothing he could say to stop it. And he didn't stop it. He pushed it onward. He grabbed her by the face and kissed her, lips tasting flowery from the brandy and oh, so sweet, and Nathalie was gone that very second. She kissed him back. She breathed him in. She wanted him. More than anything. More than didn't want to do something stupid. As pulled him even closer, she pushed them over the line. It was more than a kiss. It was bound to deepen and burst and soar.

They were up against the fridge a moment later, lost, utterly lost in each other. Gabriel's lips sprinkled their way from her mouth to her jaw to her neck, and Nathalie sighed as he lingered there, hands gripping her waist. She wanted him as close as he could possibly get.

"I love you," she murmured, out of the blue.

"I love you," he said back as a whisper against her skin.

She shuddered. A chill harsher than the sting of ice coursed through her, head to toe. Memories of four beautiful months poured forth from the well of the past, and Nathalie became painfully aware of how different she felt now from the woman laughing in her head, who'd been lighter in both body and soul. One of her hands dropped away from Gabriel's chest, clasping over his touch on her waist, a touch that was looser than she remembered it being, wider, because of the swell of her belly in the way.

"We have to stop." Nathalie didn't know if she even said it aloud. It wasn't what she wanted. She wanted everything he was giving her and more. But it was a thought in her head at least, blaring out suddenly. Like a siren. Tearing through whatever magic in the night that made everything seem like such a good idea. But nothing was fixed yet. They'd barely agreed to make a couple phone calls and they were already risking everything.

But he drank her in, slow and heavy. She could forget about all of that. She could forget. She could…

"Stop," she gasped as his fingers slipped into her robe. "Gabriel, stop."

He pulled back at once, withdrawing his hands from her skin.

"What are we doing?"

He knew the answer to that exactly, and it made the color drain from his face. Gabriel stood back from the fridge, watching with wide, petrified eyes as Nathalie tightened the belt around her ribcage and smoothed out the fabric of her robe.

"It's okay," she said, stifling the urge to touch all the places he'd kissed her. "We got...carried away."

"I'm sorry, Nathalie."

"No, I wanted it too. But it's not a good idea. It's too soon to - to go back to the way things were."

"I know." He looked down, slipping his hands into his pockets. A grim, tense quiet burned through all of the air in the room, until they both stood there quietly suffocating.

Against her better judgment, Nathalie whispered again, "I do love you, Gabriel." He closed his eyes and turned his head to the window. "I miss you."

"It's hard sleeping alone."

"Tell me about it. We're down here for a reason."

"Yeah, we are." He picked the sonogram off the island, eyes catching on the image before he held it out for her to take. "Do you want this?"

"Do you?"

"I don't know."

"Keep it," she told him. "For the rest of the night. It'll be over soon." She gestured to the green digital clock on the microwave, reading 3:36. Normally, Gabriel would be out of bed again in fewer than three hours to start his day. She couldn't silence the corner of her mind that asked how bad it could really be to lay next to him for that long.

He returned the photo to his pocket. "Very well."

After shutting off the light, they quit the kitchen, and Nathalie left as she arrived: travelling slowly, taking every opportunity to stop and to feel and to think. This time, it wasn't because she was trying to determine whether or not she walked through a dream, but because she knew for sure she didn't, and everything she hoped to savor from this moment would be gone as soon as they parted ways.

On the landing, they paused, and Gabriel squeezed her hand.

"I miss you too," he said, face turned from the setting moonlight.

Her hand slipped free, and they ascended opposite staircases into the early hours of morning.

Chapter Text

Nathalie was not expecting him to agree to this so quickly.

Approximately ten minutes ago, he'd watched, half-amused, the way her brow twitched up at the sound of his affirmative "Okay." She was surprised at first, and then skeptical, rubbing her midsection thoughtfully as she looked him up and down.

Then, she'd said, "Really?"

"Really."

"You're not going to fight me on this?"

"No. I know you're right."

This wasn't an uncommon sentence coming from him, but this might have been the most painlessly he's uttered it. Nathalie gave him a few swift blinks and then a pleased little smile as she pivoted her chair back toward her computer screen. "Alright, then," she'd said, clicking the mouse. "I assume you'll want me there."

"If you think you should be."

And she was, sitting in one of the chairs by the stairwell when Adrien stepped foot in the atrium after school. Gabriel, as typical, remained standing as he waved his son over to join them.

"What's going on?" he asked, warily taking his seat as he placed his book bag on the floor. Gabriel was not particularly appreciative of the cool, hard glare he received whenever Adrien's eyes darted to him from Nathalie, but he made no comment on it as he readjusted his posture. "Everything okay?"

Gabriel supposed it wasn't a very good indication that every time that he and Nathalie wished to speak to Adrien together, he was expecting something to be wrong. Placing his hand on his son's shoulder, Gabriel answered, "Yes, fine. Nathalie brought something to my attention a few minutes ago, and we think now is a good time to address it."

Adrien turned to Nathalie as she spoke. "You haven't told any of your friends about the baby, have you?"

"No. Father asked me not to."

"You'll have to forgive us for making you wait this long to say anything. We both got...caught up," she said, gaze flicking up to Gabriel momentarily. "I just realized this afternoon, none of your father's employees even know about it, and it probably isn't something we can hide for much longer."

Trying not to think about the HR headache the situation was bound to cause, Gabriel told his son, "If you would like to tell your friends you are going to be an older brother, you may."

"Are you serious?" Adrien asked. His disbelief perfectly mirrored Nathalie's from ten minutes prior, wavering along the border between delight and cautious doubt. He addressed the question exclusively to his father, head tilted back like he was staring at the sun.

"It's a difficult secret to keep for very long," Gabriel answered.

"What does this mean?"

"Well, we would prefer if you didn't post about it on social media. We figure the news will find its way there eventually, but your close friends should be made aware."

"No, I'm asking" - Adrien flicked his index finger between Nathalie and Gabriel in a metronome movement - "What does this mean for you?"

Exchanging a glance, Gabriel and Nathalie fell coolly silent.

"For your - relationship, I mean," Adrien clarified. "This is coming so out of nowhere. I was just kind of expecting, I don't know, some more resistance? I haven't even thought to ask you myself. I thought you would fight me," he added with a mumble.

This was Adrien grappling for hope again. As uncharacteristically frigid as he had been to Gabriel since their upsetting confrontation two and half months ago, Gabriel knew his son never wanted anything more than to see him capable of moving on, willing to devote himself to a new growing family. Most days, Adrien had avoided him; if he received anything at all, it was a cold glare or a sharp quip or some passive aggressive aside expressed in a conversation with Nathalie on the other side of the room. But there were a few days in the midst of all of that when Adrien reached out with the same idealistic, well-meaning intentions as Gabriel always knew him to hold, testing the waters, hoping for the best. Like when he slid the sonogram across the dining room table four weeks ago, with that small, gingerly voice asking, "Would you like to see it?"

And that was the Adrien speaking to them now, with green eyes so strangely unlike the ones they typically resembled in the way they gleamed with a soft and childish wonder. When both Gabriel and Nathalie failed to answer, he pressed again, "Are things...going better between you two?"

"They're…" Nathalie broke her stare with Gabriel and dragged a thumb across the lines in her palm, "better than they were a couple months ago. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I would."

"We're slightly more adjusted to the situation if that's what you're wondering."

She knew that wasn't quite what he was wondering. The faint cringe on her face as she answered told him that.

Adrien said, "It's just, you know, nice to see you two on the same page."

"It happens occasionally," Nathalie murmured.

"I just know this has been really difficult. Isn't it so much easier to actually support each other?"

"Alright, Adrien. That's enough," commanded Gabriel. "I do recommend you cease prying into the status of mine and Nathalie's relationship. It isn't any of your concern, need I remind you.

"I am concerned. I just don't understand," his son replied, sliding lower into his seat.

"We've been over this once before." The edge in Gabriel's voice originated from the memory of their dispute back in February, and was what he hoped to be an adequate warning to the boy.

But Adrien retorted, "And not enough has changed since then?"

"Apparently not." Nathalie reached over and placed a hand on Adrien's knee, drawing his attention back to her. "I, for one, understand your concern. I know you want things to be fixed between me and your father, but the best I can tell you is that they're - they're getting somewhere. I don't know where that is yet, but…" She shrugged in absence of some final reassuring statement.

Gabriel knew his son would probably not be so forward with his troubles if it wasn't his younger sibling he was troubled for. He went months surely having noticed or at least suspected the deepening relationship between Nathalie and Gabriel without saying a word. He only became tense when she'd disappeared for days, and now he feared for the future of the child about to enter the household. This fear was not lost on Gabriel. That Adrien's heart was in the right place was undeniable. But he sought answers and explanations and stability where they had yet to exist.

"Go on," Nathalie finally told him, withdrawing her hand and reclining back in her seat. "Go ahead and tell your friends the news. Unless you'd rather tell them in person tomorrow."

"Fine. Thank you for the green light." Adrien didn't even spare a glance at his father as he stood from the chair, grabbed his bag, and pounded up the steps to his room. Left in the atrium alone, Nathalie sighed, leaning her temple into her finger tips while Gabriel let some of the tension out of his body.

"Could have gone worse," he mumbled.

She blinked slowly at him.

"We'll have to deal with it on our end too." Gabriel took Adrien's chair, curling his hands around the armrests. "Word spreads fast. Would you prefer to reach out to HR now or wait for them to contact us? I doubt it'll be pretty either way."

"Your poor son," Nathalie drawled.

He lowered his gaze to the floor. "Adrien will be fine."

"You know he is not worried for himself."

"Well, he does not have to be concerned about us, either. We are managing."

"Managing," she echoed, rubbing her forehead. "Loosely speaking, perhaps."

"Either way, I don't appreciate his intrusiveness."

"Adrien is hardly intrusive. I would be troubled if he didn't ask the questions he did. My wish is not that he would stop, but that we could provide better answers."

"We'll get there."

"I'm glad you're optimistic," she grumbled. Quickly, she brought her hand down to her belly. "Jesus."

"Kicks?" Gabriel asked, straightening.

"Rarely a moment of rest these days." Nathalie looked down with a furrowed brow. "Seriously, how did we avoid telling anybody else about this up until now? I worry someone will look at my face during a video conference and somehow know."

"It was never the right time," Gabriel watched her massage her belly. Just standing across the room from Nathalie most of the day, he had observed that she seemed to never quite grow accustomed to the baby's movement. Now and then he'd catch her flinch, hear her curse under her breath, look up in time to watch her eyes go wide as she pulled back a hand to feel. Adrien, surprisingly, had been a rather inactive baby in the womb, according to Emilie, anyway, but Gabriel maintained a couple distinct memories of his son's movement against his waiting hand, those startling moments that had filled him with fear and love alike. He felt so distanced from those emotions now, at least from that particular experience of them. The fear and love living in him today was so much less wholesome, so much more adverse, haunting him every day.

Nathalie caught him staring frequently, but the further away he stood, the more soluble the moment's awkwardness, quickly dissolved in whatever thoughts and distractions they latched on to forget the bolt of eye contact. Now, Gabriel sat directly in front of her. He inhaled sharply as she glanced up to catch his gaze, and suddenly, the tension in the air was so thick it felt nearly solid.

"Gabriel."

"Yes?"

"Would you like to feel?"

Really, he didn't know how much he wanted to, but something was pulling him towards her as if by magnetism. He nodded.

Nathalie took his hand as he sat forward in his seat and set it on the left side. "I think it's flipped," she told him. "I feel the feet a lot higher now." He didn't reply to this, and maybe she didn't expect him to.

After a few seconds, Gabriel felt a tiny thump against his fingers.

"That?" Nathalie prompted in a whisper. "You felt that?"

He answered breathlessly, "Yes," shifting his hand.

About ten more seconds elapsed, and a pair of jabs - quick in succession, like a heartbeat - pulsed under his touch. They were a little stronger this time, and Nathalie winced.

"Is it painful?"

"Depends on where it's kicking. I'm not looking forward to feeling its feet in my ribs."

Gabriel chuckled and then rubbed a small circle into her belly. "Hey, there," he whispered in greeting.

That was his child he was speaking to. It didn't dawn on him right away. Then his little words hung in the air for a moment or two, and he heard them echo back, heard the tenderness in his own voice and felt the softness of his own touch, and his breath caught somewhere in his throat, halfway between his lungs and his lips. Gabriel straightened. His hand dropped away. And his gaze sprang up to be captured by Nathalie's as if she pinned him in place.

"Gabriel…" she said.

One of the reasons it was so challenging to answer to Adrien was because the truth might have only been more confusing to him. Gabriel's relationship with Nathalie had, as his son had observed, improved. But only to a certain extent. Only in the sense that they had grown closer without growing stronger. There was a piece of Gabriel's soul that longed to be entwined with Nathalie's, but they were hardening with time, bracing together, and he knew that if anything pulled them apart again, they'd be made to crumble. Brittle and fragile. Solid but immalleable. No longer able to adapt to the shape of pain.

Gabriel didn't know what had happened to change this easy, stable friendship into something so volatile. He knew better than to think that it was in their nature; yet, how much did that matter when they lived so dangerously?

They had to be careful. Some days, they weren't. That incident in the kitchen last month was not the only. Gabriel and Nathalie never took it further than they took it then, but they were always moving somewhere, vitrifying themselves with every step they took, no matter how small. Gabriel indulged in her soft kisses, in her touch on his face, and he gave her the same in return. Each time they pulled away with glass exteriors revealing the guilt that swirled within.

He worried she could see right through him now, catching the fear of his to love something before knowing if he always could. Gabriel coughed into his fist and stood up abruptly with a gesture towards the atelier. "Back to work?" he said, hardly able to look at her.

Nathalie hesitated. He could feel the sting of her glare on his cheek. "I suppose," she answered flatly.

One step forward, two steps back. Gabriel needed to stop giving in if all he would do was take away again. That wasn't quite what his therapist suggested, but to be fair to the man, he knew very little of the story. Of course, it was partially the fault of Gabriel, who for their first two sessions had refused to divulge almost any information at all, thereby wasting a considerable amount of time in hopes that his therapist (a licensed doctor, as Nathalie only researched the most highly qualified options) would decide on his own that they weren't a very good fit. Unfortunately (though actually quite fortunately) for Gabriel, Dr. Richter was one of the most unnaturally patient men he had met in all his life. He sat through those two wasted hours and near-perfect stillness, rarely letting his eyes wander, unshaken by any of Gabriel's short and unhelpful responses to his questions. It was infuriating.

He was an Englishman with a poor French accent and an otherwise excellent grasp on the language, with sandy brown hair and a graying beard, and Gabriel grappled for any meaningless reason not to like him. The biggest problem, without a doubt, was that he was an utter stranger about whom Gabriel would never know anything else about, so why on earth should he be the one to learn the deepest extent of his feelings apart from, Gabriel supposed, Nathalie and himself? The senselessness of the arrangement did quite enough to seal his lips those first two weeks, if not also for his still very real concern about how to tell such a story while leaving the miraculous out of it.

But during that third session, which had occurred only the day before, Gabriel realized Richter might very well out-stubborn him. Nathalie had researched well. He began with what knowledge was already available to the general public: that two Mays previous, his wife disappeared, and it was enough to get the ball rolling - it, and the pang in his heart when he had glanced up from the video call towards Nathalie's vacant desk. She deserved his effort, and he'd spent more than enough time uselessly avoiding the conversations he knew he needed to have.

Each answered question was like a tooth wrenched from his gums, and several minutes at a time elapsed in silence as Gabriel fought for the will to respond to Richter's inquiries. He didn't understand how others could subject themselves to this so agreeably, bearing their burns and scars and souls to someone who only listened because they got paid to. To Gabriel, this was torture, the inflammation of wounds that hadn't healed at all.

But they started getting somewhere. Towards the end of their time together yesterday, Richter had stroked his beard, mulling over the limited information Gabriel had afforded him, and asked, "What made you realize, after a fourth month affair during which you admit you were 'happy' with Nathalie, that you didn't want to continue the relationship?"

Gabriel had closed his eyes, flinching as if he'd been cut to hear his word choice repeated back to him. "She told me I had changed."

"How so?"

Begrudgingly, "For the better."

"Did you agree with her?"

After an even longer pause, "I did."

"You recognized a positive change in yourself as a result of this relationship and decided to break it off."

Hearing it put like that, Gabriel wanted to disappear.

"It sounds like you are resisting this relationship with Nathalie as well as the commitment to fathering her child out of a fear of change; perhaps, even, a fear of guilt for moving on from your wife."

Well, Gabriel could have told him that right from the start had he only swallowed his pride.

When he failed to respond to this, Richter glanced at his watch. "We have only a few minutes left together this week. I want you to practice a thinking of change as something that isn't threatening to you. Make observations about the more neutral or even the positive differences that have developed since your wife's disappearance. Begin to think of change as something that is natural and inevitable."

"That's hardly a calming thought."

"When you truly accept your lack of control over something you will cease fighting that losing battle for it. How far along is Nathalie in her pregnancy?"

"28 weeks."

"So, in less than three months, there will be a new baby."

Those words were a bullet between his lungs.

"Do you see how change is coming regardless of your acceptance of it?"

The defensive side of Gabriel's head replied, What Richter doesn't know is that with magic, change can be stopped.

The rest of him answered, But not that change.

It was why he agreed so readily to Nathalie's suggestion that they permit Adrien to tell his friends. Everything that had to do with the baby was everything Gabriel could not stop.

But the baby was only half his battle.

For as long as he had been seeing Dr. Richter, Nathalie had been meeting with a clinical social worker for counseling of her own, but he didn't know for sure how much it was helping her. They were both secretive about their respective appointments, from each other but even more so towards Adrien, who was not even aware of either of their arrangements. Certainly, his son would perceive their sought after psychological help as a purely positive development, but given that it was only just beginning and Gabriel was already wanting to shrink into his skin, they figured it was best not to get his hopes up.

The day ended more coldly than most. Their month-long habit of kissing each other good night went unfulfilled before Nathalie trudged up the stairs to her room. Long after she had left, and the gradually lengthening sunlight had sunk away to leave a velvety spring blackness behind, Gabriel crossed the room from his podium to the windows behind her desk. She left them open during the day, and for a moment, Gabriel stood looking out into the night and let the breeze splash against his face. The briskness of winter endured as vivid memory; with clarity, Gabriel could imagine the pinch of cold on his cheeks, the snow dusting the earth on that night Nathalie had run away. The season had changed without him knowing it. Most of his life in the last two years had been lived within the walls of the mansion, but now, with his miraculous locked away for months, he had barely a glimpse at the world outside, the city into which he'd peer to watch it fall apart and come back together again. An entire kingdom of torment had been built inside his home in place of the one he abandoned along with the power in his vault. It startled him to inhale the air and taste that slightest tang of a spring storm at the back of his throat. Change was natural. Change was inevitable. Like the cycle of the seasons. In his defiance against the term, Gabriel had even forgotten such a thing as that.

He sighed. Taking in a last breath of the breeze, he dragged the window closed and locked it. In the black surface of glass, he caught the golden reflection of his wife's portrait. All dried paint and static image. All feathers like eyes frozen open. All fine, ageless beauty.

"Good night," he whispered to something that never slept.

Upstairs, Gabriel was in no rush to get to bed. He switched on his rarely-used TV for some background noise as he tossed aside his jacket and his vest and went off to the bathroom. Ice cold water on his face had become a step in his nightly routine. He splashed until his hands and nose went numb, and then tried to scrub the feeling back into his skin with a towel that used to belong to Emilie. Out of all the rooms in the house, their bathroom was the one which reminded him the most of what she left behind. He'd removed her shampoo and conditioner from the shower and placed them under her sink long ago, but on a shelf beside the mirror, a collection of glass perfume bottles remained, collecting dust. Her pale pink robe still hung by the door on a hook next to his charcoal-colored one. A dozen used candles surrounded the bathtub, where she used to end a long, eventful day basking in a pool of bubbles. Gabriel set aside the towel, his eyes lingering on each corner of the bathroom, noticing, for the first time, how little the space had changed. Everything lied in wait.

After brushing his teeth and dressing in pajamas, Gabriel sat on the edge of his bed, weary but somehow so restless. By now, he has been sleeping alone again longer than he had slept with Nathalie, and still, a fragment of his mind, elusive as an untraceable itch, expected to feel the shift of weight on the other side of the bed. But the room was motionless. Voices on the TV droned on. Gabriel moved and everything stayed the same.

The thought occurred to him to open the drawer beside his bed, perhaps, spurred on by the memory he still held in the skin of his hands of a few tiny thumps of hello. Cursing the bent corners and the wrinkle like a vein through the middle of the image, Gabriel pulled out the sonogram and held it out beneath the flickering television light.

He forgot he still had this thing sometimes. Nathalie had never asked for it following their first meeting in the kitchen, so he figured there was no harm in keeping it until either she or Adrien requested he return it. Now, a month had passed, and the photo was still sitting in the drawer along with various other belongings having nothing to do with it at all. A broken analogue watch, an old pair of sunglasses, an empty cigarette case, a few half-used bottles of hand sanitizer, a flask. And this. A monochromatic picture of someone he didn't even know.

Gabriel was waiting for a breakthrough. Those few times in the last four weeks he remembered this photo was kept by his head in the drawer next to his pillow, he searched it and studied it corner to corner as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows of the image. Gabriel was desperate to feel something when he looked at his baby. Whether it was the blunt impression that he couldn't love it or the fatal realization that he did, he needed something. He needed anything other than this dizzying irresolution. For one second, his heart swelled with tenderness. The next, it was stricken with terror. The baby was coming no matter what he decided but for fuck's sake, he could not decide.

Even though he was starting to think he knew the answer already...

He didn't feel as though he was strong enough to make it…

Strong enough to let go…

To set himself -

Gabriel jumped as a loud buzz rattled his thoughts - and everything sitting on his dresser across the room.

"What-?"

Dropping the sonogram in the bedside drawer and slamming it shut, Gabriel leaped to his feet and retrieved his vibrating cell phone. He didn't know who on earth would think to call him without warning at nearly 10 PM - Audrey had outgrown her insufferable habit of spontaneous and useless late night phone calls a few years ago. The first possibility he considered was Nathalie, but Gabriel hardly had the time to worry himself over what could be wrong before he turned over his cell phone and read the contact name on his screen.

He went stiff.

He read it again.

"Oh," Gabriel grumbled, the sound low and deep in his chest.

He quickly shut off the TV, debating for a couple seconds whether or not he should even bother answering. He'd come close to blocking this number a couple times before, but it had also been almost a year since he last received a word from her. Checking his temper, Gabriel cleared his throat and accepted the call. He offered a steely greeting. "Hello. Gabriel Agreste speaking."

"Good evening, Gabriel! How are you?"

"What do you want?"

"Cutting right to the chase, are we?"

"I don't have any interest in niceties. You're not dumb enough not to know why."

"Icy. And to think I was going to congratulate you."

Gabriel's grip on the phone wrenched tighter. His stomach sank. "I'm sorry?"

"Adrien called Felix earlier today and told him the news. I can't say I'm surprised I didn't hear from you directly, but I figured that's no reason not to reach out on my own. Of course, you're so surly that I'm starting to regret it."

"You know about the baby?"

"Sure do," Amelie replied. The smile in her voice was audible. "And you know, because it is such wonderful news, I guess I'll congratulate you anyway despite how little you deserve it. Congratulations, Gabriel. I wish you and - Nathalie is her name, correct? - all the luck in the world."

Gabriel was speechless. Seething silently, he sat back down on the bed.

"Have we gotten all the curtness out of our systems?" Amelie asked. "Great. Now, all of that aside, I wanted to tell you, Gabriel, I am genuinely happy for you."

"I do not need your pleasantries."

"No, you don't. But I'm giving them anyway. Considering the state you were in a year ago during our last visit, it is exciting to hear that you have found happiness again. You know, I sensed something was going on between you and your assistant. Allow me to express my felicitations that you have managed to move on. I know first hand how challenging that is."

"Right," he muttered.

"I hear Adrien is tremendously excited to be a brother. It is a shame that he and Felix have grown apart over the years, but I suppose everything happens for a reason." Amelie sighed lightly. "Anyway, I'm glad this baby can serve as a new beginning for you and your family. I hope you'll extend my best wishes to the mother as well?"

Gabriel trembled with rage.

"I know we don't know each other terribly well, but from what I can tell she seems like a great match for you. Very similar temperaments. And I know she's been taking care of Adrien for much of his life, so I suppose she's been part of the family for a very long time."

"You never cease to shock me with your boldness, Amelie," Gabriel snapped, shooting to his feet again.

"Bold, you say? Ah, yes, I suppose it's a little late. You'll have to forgive me. I had an awfully busy day, and this was the first time I could get to my phone."

"Your feigned innocence is not remotely amusing," he growled. "You have nerve contacting me after that wicked stunt you pulled last year. What is wrong with you?"

"Oh, I suppose you're referring to our disagreement over my family's rings," Amelie said. The tone of her voice had flipped completely. All emotion had been sapped out of her words.

"I'm referring to your son's theft of my wedding ring, which I know you encouraged."

"Gabriel, I'm really glad you brought it up because that is part of the reason I am calling." Gabriel heard a door close and lock on Amelie's end before she continued. "Look, perhaps it was unjust of me to - well, I didn't ask Felix to steal the ring, but - suggest that I would be okay with his behavior to do so."

"On the anniversary of her disappearance," snarled Gabriel.

"Ugh, yes, I know the timing wasn't ideal, but it was the only opportunity we had, given it was the only time you agreed to see us. But to get to my point, I should have been more patient. Everybody grieves at their own pace, and you deserved more respect for that. Now, with all that said -"

"I don't want to hear it."

"No, I think you do. You haven't hung up yet," she quipped. "Anyway, with all that said, now that you and Nathalie have a baby on the way, I'm sure it's a far more appropriate time to request that you return the other of my family's rings still in your possession."

Dumbfounded, Gabriel stammered, "A-Amelie. You can't - you cannot expect me to take you seriously."

"Oh, I expect you to take me very, very seriously. The Agrestes have no right to rings any longer. They belong to my family and they will stay with my family."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"That's rich. My own family heirloom and I'm mistaken? Care to spell out how?"

"You have the situation all wrong," Gabriel thundered. "I have yet to move on from Emilie, and I'm certainly not giving up my ring to the thief who doesn't care about her."

For the first time since he picked up, there was silence on the other end. The violent anger that had blown Gabriel's words to the surface died down to a simmer as their meaning settled in like snowing ash.

Then, a bloom out of frigid quiet, Amelie's voice brushed against his ear. "Haven't moved on?" she repeated. "Interesting."

"I'm sorry I can't be as callous and uncaring about Emilie as you are," he growled.

"Yes, I can tell just how much you care. It's evident in the fact that another woman is having your baby."

Gabriel turned to stone.

"It seems like we're going to have an issue," she said. "If you're truly as devoted to my sister as you say despite these circumstances suggesting otherwise, then I would like to discuss this further."

"I wouldn't."

"Yes, I figured you wouldn't, but goodness, if this is truly a betrayal of my dear sister Emilie then you've backed yourself into a corner. It's my problem now. I've got to come to her defense. Unless you happen to be lying to get me off your back, in which case you really should just avoid the hassle and hand over the ring. We Graham de Vanilys get what we want one way or another, and I know you know that."

"You want to talk in person."

"It'll be easier for me to assess the situation, I think."

"Your input is not wanted."

"If you're scared of what I'm going to say to you, imagine Emilie's reaction. I suppose you're lucky she's gone and you'll only have to deal with me."

Gabriel wanted to tell her to go fuck herself.

"Oh, your poor son," she continued when he didn't. "I wonder what he thinks of all of this."

"That's none of your business."

"He'll tell me himself. I'll see you all over the weekend. Oh, and if it puts your little mind at ease, Gabriel, my son won't be joining me. You won't have to worry about him taking the other ring. I'll get it myself. That, or you'll prove to me just how much you still deserve to keep it. Prepare your case, darling."

His mouth hung open.

Amelie chuckled. "Have a good night."

She hung up.

Chapter Text

From the atelier window, Gabriel and Nathalie watched the car pull in through the gate.

"You can stay in here while I go out to talk to her."

"No, I'll say hello. This will go more smoothly if we act as normal as possible."

"Don't feel pressured to stick around. She's only here to cause trouble."

"I know. But with what happened last time, it might be helpful to keep an extra set of eyes on her."

"She didn't bring her little magician, so I don't think that will be necessary."

"Gabriel -"

"I don't want her to lash out at you."

"If I'm worried about anybody lashing out, it's you."

He sighed. As Amelie climbed out of her ride and grabbed her suitcase containing he-didn't-know-what-since-he-would-only-tolerate-her-presence-for-a-couple-hours, Gabriel stepped back from the glass and offered Nathalie his hand.

"We should have been more specific about who Adrien was allowed to tell," she murmured, rising from her chair. She looked pale and exhausted. Previously Gabriel had suggested that she spend the day in bed and catch up on the rest she'd surely missed the last couple days, but Nathalie insisted from the start that she be around for this. She looked like a breeze could blow her over.

"It doesn't matter. Everybody knows now."

In the sixty-two hours between Amelie's phone call and her visit, word about the baby had spread about as quickly as they should have expected it to. Once one or two of Adrien's classmates knew, they all did, and once they all did, everybody else found out in tandem. Gabriel ignored congratulatory calls from peers in the fashion world, blocked contacts from vapid pop culture publications, and spent the next two days in grueling conversation with his company's Human Resources Department who were really trying to convince him that Nathalie was no longer a suitable executive assistant. They tried to convince Nathalie too. With the stress she was under trying to block out the rest of the world and mentally prepare for Amelie's unwelcome visit on Saturday, Gabriel thought she might have actually agreed with them if he hadn't been in the room with her to supplement some morale. After enough directionless phone calls and failed attempts to meet with Gabriel and Nathalie in person, HR seemed to give up at last - but they would see how things proceeded once Monday rolled around again.

In the atrium, Adrien had already opened the front door for his aunt, who, in a giant pair of designer sunglasses and a jade green jumpsuit, waved at him theatrically as she climbed the steps. Gabriel's blood boiled merely at the sight of her, this smiling, viperous woman with the daring to approach his house like she owned it. He clenched his fist with Nathalie's hand still in it. Seeing Amelie herself, her eyebrows pinched up, and she released him.

"Adrien, darling!" Once inside, Amelie set her bag on the floor and pulled her nephew into a hug. "Congratulations, big brother!"

"Thanks, Aunt Amelie," he replied, the air just piping out of him.

"Oh gosh, you must be so excited. You know, Felix was always happy as an only child, but I used to wonder if your mother would have another." She stepped back and shifted the sunglasses up to the top of her head. Green eyes darted to Gabriel and Nathalie standing by the atelier door. "For your sake, Adrien, I thought it was a shame it didn't work out that way, but alas! you'll have a new sibling after all. Sometimes it's a good thing that family can be so complicated."

"Yeah, complicated is right," Adrien said, chuckling. "How was your trip?"

"Fine, my trip was fine. I'm sorry I didn't bring your cousin with me this time around. He was reluctant after being harassed by those magical hooligans last year." Amelie looked between the occupants of the atrium. "But from what I've been hearing about Paris nowadays, that's not something we'll have to worry about, is it?"

"Not anymore," said Adrien with a grin.

"Wonderful! And because we're celebrating this time around, we should be especially glad to have no interruptions. It's great to see you again, Adrien." Now, Amelie strode towards Gabriel and Nathalie and extended her hand towards the latter. "Nathalie, I know it's cliché to say, but you truly are glowing. I didn't know you were so far along."

Nathalie shook Amelie's hand rather limply. "Hello, Amelie."

"When are you due again, dear?"

"22nd of July," answered Nathalie without a trace of emotion in her voice.

"And how are things going?"

"As well as they can be."

"Isn't it awful?" Amelie said through her teeth. The sympathetic grimace on her face made her look nearly human for a second. "I know what they say about pregnancy being magical, but I hated it. Most miserable months of my life. The good news is that the baby makes it all worth it." She extended her hand again, this time to place a couple soft taps on Nathalie's upper arm. "Hang in there."

This apparently genuine expression of reassurance surprised Nathalie. Her tired blue eyes went wide and bright. "Thank you," she murmured.

Gabriel was surprised too. He'd been holding all the tension in his body from the second Amelie walked through the door, wary of her first hostile move against him, worried it would be directed at the woman he had betrayed her sister for. So far, Amelie seemed intent on making him wait. As if he hadn't been dreading this for long enough.

"We can talk more later," Amelie told Nathalie. Now, retracting her right hand (and Gabriel knew that just like her sister, Amelie was right-handed), she held out her left to Gabriel. "I'm glad we have the chance to discuss this in person."

The chance. Like she'd given him much of a choice. Gabriel, seeing that Adrien watched them, began to reach out his hand to give Amelie's a firm shake, but he paused when he caught the glint of something around her finger.

Of course.

His ring.

Amelie's smile at him broadened, her eyes squinting.

Nathalie saw it too. He didn't look at her face but she shifted suddenly out of the corner of his eye. She drew in a faint gasp.

Composing himself swiftly, Gabriel took Amelie's hand and bobbed it once. She made no effort to slip the ring off his own finger, unlike her son before her, but he could tell she relished in how she ruffled him.

He would not continue to perform politeness much longer. Holding his glare on Amelie, he called out, "Adrien, please take care of your aunt's bag. Amelie and I have important business to discuss before we can go on enjoying this visit."

"Oh, yes! Be a dear," Amelie chimed as Adrien grabbed her suitcase. He made a surprised expression as he lifted it off the floor with ease. Noticing the way it paired nicely with the soft tone of her jumpsuit, Gabriel realized it might have only been functioning as an accessory. Amelie wasn't planning on staying long at all.

"Shall we talk in the atelier?" Nathalie said.

"We shall." Gabriel gestured between himself and Amelie. "I'd much rather you rest."

"Rest?"

"Don't worry, darling." Amelie reassured her. "We ought to talk this out alone. I'm sure you've had a stressful few days. Gabriel and I will take care of things."

Nathalie looked between them. She would have surely protested had Gabriel been the only one to dissuade her presence, but with the pair of them in agreement, she had no argument to make. Without another word and leaving them with a weary expression, Nathalie crossed the atrium to the stairs and ascended. Gabriel watched her go until she was out of his sight, until Amelie called him into the atelier with a sharp utterance of his name.

"She seemed to know what this was about," Amelie said as he shut the door.

"She knows your arrival is a cause for concern," he muttered.

"Oh, wow." Amelie's sweeping movements as she traipsed deeper into the room came to a sudden pause, manicured hands clasping over her chest. "That painting!"

Shit, the painting. Gabriel grit his teeth and tried not to look at Amelie's wide-eyed expression as she flitted her gaze up and down the portrait of her sister draped in gold. In his sinking dread upon her arrival to the mansion, he had forgotten to conceal the large work of art with the curtain he'd begun to pull closed during his virtual sessions with Dr. Richter. Each cell of his body felt as if it was being punctured by a hair-thin needlepoint. Amelie glanced back at him.

"I've seen it before. Emilie always loved it so much. I'd merely forgotten about it," she said. "It's quite - imposing. I pity Nathalie for having to look at it every day."

Gabriel cast a look towards Nathalie's desk and back to the painting across the room. A heavy shame plunged through his stomach, silencing anything he could think to say in response.

"How aware is she that you claim not to be over Emilie?"

"She's aware," Gabriel rasped.

"So you did tell her everything about our little phone call on Wednesday night?"

"I told her you wrongly took the news about the situation as authorization to acquire the ring you didn't manage to steal from me last time."

"But not about the other half of my concerns? I see. That tells me all I need to know, and I'm glad, because I'm not especially interested in the status of your relationship." Amelie tilted her head. Slanted eyes narrowed at him. "That fact that she continues to spend so much time with you tells me she's holding out hope that you'll move on after all. Let me ask you next," she went on before he could snap at her, "Do you plan to raise this baby, Gabriel?"

"We're not here to talk about the baby," he deflected.

"That's either an 'I don't know' or a 'No', but definitely not a 'Yes'. To reiterate, I pity Nathalie." Amelie sat on the desk and folded her fingers in her lap. A smile curled across her peach-colored lips, a smile Gabriel wanted to claw right off her face. He cemented his hands in a death-grip behind his back. "If you don't want to talk about the baby, we can start by talking about the ring, huh?"

"I'm not giving you my wedding ring," he told her frankly. "And while you're here, I'd very much like the other one back. These belong to Emilie and myself."

"And just like that, we circle right back to the baby!" she exclaimed. "That was awfully quick, wasn't it? Now, tell me, Gabriel, what worth is your word when you've clearly had an affair with another woman and have a bastard child on the way?"

"What makes you think I don't plan on passing these rings down to Adrien?" questioned Gabriel. "You have said they belong to the Graham de Vanily family. As Emilie's son, he has every right to them as you do."

"Excellent point," Amelie replied. "Of course, the only people who have any authority to give the rings away would be of Graham de Vanily blood, which you are not. So, unless my sister has it in writing that she would like the rings to belong to her son, you don't have any right to pass them on."

"As her husband, I surely do."

"Do you consider her dead, or not?"

Gabriel winced.

"If you agree that she's dead, and that makes you, by law, her beneficiary, then I'll drop this right now." Amelie stared at him, waiting for a reply. She waited longer than he expected her to, and then her smile quirked. "Gabriel, I know you don't actually care about inheritance law. I know the thought of giving these rings to Adrien didn't cross your mind even once until you thought you could use that argument against me. You've always been defensive and possessive and not very genuine. So, are we going to stop making this about something that it's not?"

"What is this about then, if not your greed?" he challenged. "Do you expect me to believe that you truly care about Emilie? You're using her to guilt me into giving you what you really want."

A rare anger flared across Amelie's face. "And, what, I suppose you have her best interests at heart."

"More so than you."

"Yes, how terrible my crime! to, dare I say it, care about inanimate objects! You're right, Gabriel. That's so much worse than breaking your marriage vows and fucking your secretary."

A lightning bolt fired through him.

"It would be, anyway," Amelie went on, tapping her chin with a glossy, coral-colored nail, "if you truly had moved forward with your life and come to peace with all of this. But, as you have insisted, that isn't the case. Now, said secretary is due to pop in the next couple months and you're worried about a ring. As long as you're stringing the other woman along you might as well concern yourself with her instead."

"It would be wise of you" - Gabriel's voice quivered with rage - "to stop bringing Nathalie into this."

"I'm not bringing her into this. She's carrying your child. Quite frankly, I couldn't care less about her or the baby, but I do care about my sister, and my family, and what belongs to us." All of the forced, ironic amiability dissolved from Amelie's countenance in a pair of heartbeats. "And I really hate that you're in the way of all of it.

"The way I see it," she continued, holding up an index finger as he tried to speak, "My sister is gone. She has been gone almost two years, but even if that was something we could agree on, that wouldn't solve your pride. So, Gabriel, give me exactly one reason I should believe that you truly are a man of your word, that you truly do deserve to wear that wedding band around your finger, and that in response to this egregious betrayal of yours - a betrayal which you have defined for yourself - I should not make your life a living hell."

Gabriel's hands ached from clasping them so tightly. If he wasn't so hot in the face with anger, so heavy in the gut with guilt, he might have been deathly afraid of Amelie. A violent storm tumbled through her vibrant eyes glowing with warning. If looks could kill, this one would not have done it yet, but it teased him with the threat. It dared him to say one word out of place and be struck down where he stood. The ring on her finger flashed like a blade in the light.

"I love Emilie," he heard himself say. "And I know what is true in my heart. Why should I have to prove anything to you?"

"What kind of answer is that?" she sneered. "People only ever say those words when they know they're in the wrong and don't want to face scrutiny. Oh, but I scrutinize. Let's look at the evidence."

"If you mention Nathalie one more time…" he rumbled.

"Never mind her!" Amelie hopped off the desk. She began to pace the center of the room, that strip of marble designed as a runway through the atelier. "We could take this little affair out of the equation entirely, and I still would not believe you care enough for Emilie. Not even if you'd brought her back from the dead."

"She's not dead!" Gabriel snapped, without thinking.

"Oh, do you know where she is, then?"

Holding her provocative stare, Gabriel wrenched apart his hands and forced them down to his side. He would have to cool his temper before he said something else so careless. "No," he answered hollowly, "I don't. I have no idea."

"Therein lies the issue. And all the evidence I need. I am supposed to believe you think Emilie is still out there, that you are so convinced of this notion that you refuse to move on with your life even when the opportunity has presented itself, but where are the search parties, Gabriel? Where is the investigation into her whereabouts? I haven't been contacted by anybody. Emilie disappeared and you decided to do nothing about it. You locked yourself in your house to brood for two years. You woe-is-me your way through life without asking a single question. I'd accuse you of killing the woman," Amelie hissed, "if I didn't know you were a spineless, dysfunctional moron."

"Get out of my house," Gabriel snarled.

"Will do! I hope you don't mind if on the way out, I tell your girlfriend what we've been talking about!"

He wanted to kill her.

"When you think about it," she said, that venomous smile of hers returning, a snake curving out of the dark, "A ring is a small price to pay for being the world's worst husband."

He should not have let her words penetrate his skin, dig in so close to his heart. They meant nothing coming from her. They meant nothing…

"I've had enough of this," he said, trying to maintain the crackling heat in his voice. As the weight of her accusations settled deeper into him, it began to smother the raging fire painting his vision red. "You're incredibly lucky my patience has lasted this long. I should not have even let you within a kilometer of this house."

She shrugged. "I do not believe your patience is to blame. You know that you needed to hear what I've said. Maybe it'll screw your head on straight."

His breath caught in his throat.

Amelie was making for the door. "Gabriel, you are not fooling me. You can say you're still in love with Emilie all you wish, but we both know the truth. And as soon as it finally registers with you, I hope you will do the right thing and hand over the ring. As far as I'm concerned, once you do that, you'll never have to hear from me again." She turned the door knob, and quickly, her eyes flashed up beneath her pale brow, "But I want to leave you with this: I get where you're coming from. I know what you're trying to cling to. Emilie had high standards, high expectations. You want to reflect those, but seriously?" For the first time, what looked like a genuine emotion glinted on the emerald surface of her keen stare, something like pain, "You couldn't even do the bare minimum for her?"

Amelie turned the door knob. "Where do you think you're going?" Gabriel demanded, unable to hide the tremble in his voice from the harsh blow of her words.

"I'm taking Adrien to lunch. That should give you some time to yourself to think this through. I'll see you in a couple hours."

Before he could protest, she slammed the door behind her.

His little corner of the world careened back into the motion as soon as she was gone, and Gabriel, suddenly unsteady, reached for the wall in order to remain upright. His hand struck the corner of a photograph of Adrien and knocked the frame askew. With everything in him that hadn't yet been ravaged by his malevolent sister-in-law, Gabriel withheld the subsequent urge to toss the photograph off the wall entirely and make the rest of the room appear just as destroyed as he felt inside.

When would he cease to destroy everything around him? When would he grow weary of living in wreckage and ruin and finally fix the mess he made with all his broken promises?

Amelie was wrong. Amelie was so gravely, dangerously wrong. If she was not wrong, then what was true of him? That he was a liar and a traitor and a careless, heartless, stone-cold shell of a grieving man whose grief was worth nothing?

No. That wasn't him. That couldn't be him. He was anything but that. Anything but some unfeeling monster.

His next moves were completely absent of rational direction. Some switch in his head had been activated, letting nothing else but his wrath and humiliation blare through to the surface in a torrent of unbearable sound and rushing color. Sometime in between catching himself on the wall and returning halfway to his senses, the entire room had changed. The blacks, whites, golds, and glass that made up the atelier had faded into silvery shadow amidst flashes of green and blasts of humid air. The first sight he could distinguish through that river of vision was the penetrating glow of something opalescent in the new stark flow of light. A pair of wings bright as fallen flakes of moon took shape among the darkness, and Gabriel's unfocused eyes followed the path of the singular butterfly he'd taken from the underground repository as it glided gently from his hand down to the dust-covered floor.

In his other hand were a couple weights he hadn't noticed appear before now. The edges of the butterfly miraculous's narrow wings pressed a harsh line across his fingers. The peacock sat beside it in his palm, already glistening with the sheen of sweat on his grip.

The midday light tunneled through the lair in the shape of the great rose window, under which he stood blinking himself back to consciousness. Desperate, lethal shame dug deeper than bone, permeating his very spirit and imploring him to bring the brooches to his throat. Gabriel listened. He wasn't a liar. He wasn't a liar. He wasn't -

"Master?" asked a duo of kwamis in unison, their colored lights having dissipated like the mist of the ocean waves Gabriel was being pulled under.

"Show me what I need to do," he told them in a distant voice.

"Master, I have never seen you so upset," murmured Nooroo.

"How long has it been?" screeched Duusu.

"Months," Gabriel answered her, choking on his breath. "It's been months."

A moment later, they were gone. He couldn't look at them any longer, at their round, disquieted gazes slowly reading the open book he'd become. Now, Gabriel - Shadow Moth - could not even bask in the power rising through his blood. It was nothing in comparison to the storm of emotion pelting him from all directions, and most strongly, from within. A shaking pair of fingers plucked a white feather from the fan that would have snapped in his grasp had it not been made of magic; and then, saturated in the deep inky blue of the peacock miraculous's power, the amok lifted off the gloved surface of his palm, and floated the span of his shoulders to absorb into his cane.

"Show me what I need to do," he repeated.

A thick blue cloud materialized to be shaped by him, but Shadow Moth was looking for a sign, looking for an answer in the hidden creature. He shut his mind down. He would let his heart do the sculpting, or Duusu, or whatever it was inside of him that was making the cloud bulge and ripple into something solid. It grew taller, grew wider, and then grew into a shape resembling a human. Shadow Moth froze. Once the smoke had cleared, tossed away like a discarded garment into whichever void from whence it came, he looked directly into his own face.

The Gabriel sentimonster raised an eyebrow in disapproval, blue-gray eyes cutting into Shadow Moth's with an incisive, challenging light. There was something not-quite-right about it, an imperfection in the likeness, likely having resulted from the discord in its creator's brain. But Shadow Moth could not determine what exactly was off, only that he didn't trust it to stay the same if he looked away. So he did not blink. His eyes watered.

"What are you doing?" it barked. "You're just standing here!"

Surprised by its indignant tone, Shadow Moth recoiled. "I don't know what else to do."

"Nonsense. Why do you think you brought yourself up here?" The Gabriel threw its arms out to the side. "You're aware what must be done."

"Am I out of my mind?"

"You might be the most in-your-mind you've been in months. You're inches from making a move. After so many months of doing nothing with yourself." It scoffed. "Pathetic."

"What would you do?" Shadow Moth asked himself.

"Surely the only course of action is to prove to that infernal woman who slandered your faithful spirit that she had no business spinning the accusations spat in your face," growled Gabriel. "The audacity she has to insult you within your own home about your own wife, whom you spent the better part of a year risking everything to rescue!"

"Amelie can't know," muttered Shadow Moth.

"Oh, but don't you wish you could tell her? From the beginning she and her family have looked down on the Agreste name in spite of everything you have built from the ground up to uplift your wife and child! And now she dares to call your love and dedication empty and inadequate! Other husbands would have let themselves lose. You have fought tooth and nail to keep everything whole. Imagine," the sentimonster's voice warped, and a chill shot down Shadow Moth's spine as it took on a higher pitch, a melodious inflection. At once, it was clear why it seemed so uncanny. Gray hair like a swarm of snakes slithered from the head down to the upper back, turned blonde, styled itself into a braid draped across a now visible shoulder. A burning, squinting gaze slanted upward. Storm-colored irises flickered green. Facial features morphed like finely-handled clay, and Shadow Moth's stomach flipped at the unnatural sight. "Imagine," Amelie told him, brushing a hand down the front of her jumpsuit, "if you could tell her, 'I've been turning the whole world upside down to bring your sister back! I'd let this city burn if it meant she could return to me!'"

Shadow Moth stared with his mouth agape at this replica of the woman he hated most.

"Go on," Amelie dared, stepping closer. "Tell me. Tell me how much you deserve those rings, Gabriel."

"You know why," he murmured. "I know why."

"Explain yourself!"

His cane struck the floor. "The rings are mine."

"And why?"

"Because I love Emilie. More than you can possibly understand. I love her enough to have become a super villain and fought restlessly for her life. Who needs search parties," he sneered, "when you have magic powerful enough to raise the dead and change reality itself? I've made promises to her deeper than any wedding vow."

"Is that why you stopped?" Amelie said.

His heart lurched.

"Come on, be honest now," it sing-songed. "Why did you stop trying to save her? Why did you give up on her?"

"Silence." His voice was a breath.

"No, really, I'm curious." Amelie's fingernail traced the edges of his miraculous. "Explain to me how your so-called restless fighting even remotely resembles such peace and harmony throughout the city of Paris. Explain to me how your son could be so confident I would not be harassed by your akuma victims on my visit like I was last time. It couldn't be because you're full of shit, could it?"

"It's the truth," he whispered.

"My poor sister, having counted on you for so long. Being forced to wait while you let her rot, forgotten."

"No."

"Yes, Gabriel!" Amelie's eyes dashed up to meet his, but all of the sudden, they were not Amelie's eyes. They looked like Amelie's eyes. They were shaped and colored the same and they sat in the middle of a face that looked just like hers but that wasn't hers. There was something about it that changed, something so small and subtle, that watching it shift struck greater horror into him than watching it transform from the disparate likeness of himself.

"Yes, Gabriel," she said again. Only she was Emilie now. Her voice was broken, and she clung to Shadow Moth's collar. "Why are you letting me lay there, all alone under the house? Please, please save me! Do as you promised. I've missed two whole years of my life because of you - because you have forgotten me."

He shook his head. He closed his hands over Emilie's and tried to pry open her grip. "God, no. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Look at what you've done." A mascara-stained teardrop slid down Emilie's cheek. "This is the closest you will ever come to speaking to me again. You have to make a sentimonster. An imitation. Because you won't make me real again."

"Yes, I will," he told her.

"You don't care. Amelie is right."

"No."

"She is!"

"Over my dead body."

"Over mine. You'll kill me by letting me go."

He blanched in sickening dread. Light-headed he whispered, "You'd never say that."

Emilie's voice froze his blood. "You're a worthless husband."

An agonized shout tore through the room, and in the resounding echoes, Shadow Moth dispelled the sentimonster. He watched Emilie melt away, felt his airway widen as her desperate grip on his collar vanished in a mist of indigo. From his cane, the feather emerged and twirled through the air in the flow of Shadow Moth's labored breath. It turned white again as the peacock's magic seeped out of it.

"Enough of you."

He snapped the peacock miraculous from his chest. Half of his transformation dissolved in a wash of blue light, leaving Hawk Moth standing, a wavering shell of himself beneath the beaming sun. The brooch clattered beside his feet and spun away with a metallic scrape, and the butterfly on the floor stirred, startled by the sudden movement into flight.

Hawk Moth watched the flickering of its wings through the air for a few seconds, inhaling the weight of the choice he was about to make. He drifted into darkness. His hand stretched open.

A pair of midnight wings opened and closed like a greeting. For the first time since August, an akuma took to the sky.

What was he doing?

Gabriel dropped his cane. He felt like he had just been violently shaken out of a dream. Enough minutes had elapsed in utter stillness and quiet that the moment something shifted, it startled him clean out of his head. The real world was blinding. A purple glow framed his vision. A voice sat between his ears. Somebody was in the room with him.

Some…

Some stranger.

Whose utterly unfamiliar face he could see in his mind's eye, alert and waiting for a command.

A command to…

To acquire Ladybug and Chat Noir's…

Gabriel pressed his fingertips into his temples, eyes on the pool of light illuminating the floor beneath his feet. He was on fire.

"No," he said aloud.

Hawk Moth? cheeped his victim. A man unjustly fired from his job. A man that would have attacked the city had Gabriel not snapped out of it before bestowing the power to do so unto his weary shoulders. The akuma was somewhere in his briefcase. It knew he was awake.

Gabriel muttered, "I'm sorry."

This wasn't right. Somewhere inside, a slow, glacial shock heaved upwards through his body. He could not tell if it was his own. But he knew his heart had been misshapen, squeezed free of all his aching, fearful love. It all surged back in. He thought of his son and Nathalie and the child she was carrying. 

How did he end up here so quickly, in two mere blinks? How could he have let Amelie's words cut him so deep?

"I'm making a mistake."

She knew nothing. She didn't care. She just wanted his ring. That's all. His ring. She didn't love her sister. She proved that last year. And he'd told her that, so how had she twisted this around without him noticing until now?

"I should not have let this happen."

It was all to get under his skin and into his head and he'd let her. Now, he was about to throw away so much more than he could possibly gain back just to show her she was wrong. As if it mattered to her.

She was smart. She saw an opportunity to break him and she'd had no mercy.

"I got so lost. I don't need this."

He had a baby on the way.

He'd hurt Nathalie enough.

And Adrien.

And he'd failed Emilie too many times already.

Was he really about to fail her again? And destroy everything else in the process?

He felt sick. His legs turned to rubber. Gabriel stumbled out of the light and with the clumsy snap of his fingers, he let the man go. The connection between them severed like a breaking hair. His purple vision went dark.

"Nooroo," he rasped, looking at the wall. He could not possibly face the kwami like this. His shame swallowed him whole. And there, something still dragged between his lungs. It must have been another emotion. Another potential victim. He never wanted to feel another person's pain again. He could barely survive his own. "Nooroo, dark wings -"

Gabriel collapsed.

His knees banged against the floor with a deep echo, filled by a sharp cry of shock.

"Agh!" The miraculous pulsed and sizzled as the emotion in his chest flared outward. Waves of anguish and heart-stopping fear like electric currents fired through his body, and Gabriel jerked forward on his hands to keep his head from hitting the ground. He hadn't been prepared to feel something like this. Months out of practice, mind in a fog he'd nearly gotten lost in, Gabriel was so shaken by the emotion bursting from his miraculous that he convulsed.

"Nooroo," he gasped. He needed to put an end to this. He felt like he was dying. "Dark wings…"

But through the throbbing tempest, something launched to the surface. Someone.

Oh.

Oh, God.

"No!" Gabriel cried as the pain inside of him took shape and gained a face. Gripped by a terror that was his own, he staggered to his feet. He had no time to fall backwards into the damning knowledge that he might have caused this. Something was wrong. She was scared. She was devastated. She was flickering out of reach.

He scrambled for his cane and steadied himself against these pounding waves.

"Nathalie," he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm coming."

Her emotions swirled as if she could hear him.

Chapter Text

Nathalie did not know why she agreed to come.

Adrien had found her in an armchair by the window, a tablet perched on the fingertips of one hand while the other pressed a massaging fist into her lower back. He knocked on the door frame and beamed at her, exclaiming, "Amelie is taking me to lunch. You should join us!"

"Join you?"

"Why not?"

She blinked slowly at him. "I don't know…"

"You've said you and Father have been dealing with a lot at work lately. You deserve a little outing, and it's a nice day."

"He's right." Nathalie stiffened as Amelie appeared behind Adrien, clasping a small leather handbag to her thigh. "Goodness, if I were you, I'd get stir crazy staying in this house all of the time. Let's go."

"I shouldn't intrude."

"Don't be silly." Amelie swatted the air. "It was the boy's idea, and I think it's a great one. You've had a busy week, and lunch is on me, anyway. Ha, see? Now you can't refuse."

"Please, Nathalie?" Adrien said.

Determining whether or not to appreciate the gesture was a challenge when the authenticity of Amelie's kindness was still rather dubious. She must have just finished her discussion with Gabriel, and Nathalie would have been shocked to learn if it had gone well enough to result in this generous mood of hers - unless, of course, it had only gone well for her. That would not have shocked her at all. The thought even scared her.

Moreover, Nathalie simply did not want to go. The only reason Adrien and Amelie hadn't found her in bed right now was because she was too on-edge to sleep, but quite frankly, Nathalie felt like shit, and she'd felt like shit for the last three days. She'd never had the bandwidth to worry about what HR would have to say about her situation, and now that she knew, she wanted to disappear. Hide underground in shame until everyone she ever knew had forgotten who she was. Nathalie was already so mad at herself most of the time that she hadn't expected losing the respect of her coworkers beneath her would hurt so much, but by now, any blow was strong enough to knock her down. These past few days had made her ill. Amelie's trespass didn't help. Now, Nathalie was fatigued and light-headed and she'd had no reason at all to join them apart from Adrien's insistence.

She ended up in the passenger seat of the car anyway.

There was something intimidating about Amelie that made her difficult to refuse. Emilie had had it too. It wasn't like Adrien's endearing optimism, that shine in his eyes and well-meaning grin. It certainly wasn't like Gabriel's sternness. The quality eluded her, but she could never turn it down, and saying yes always felt like an escape from some invisible fear. Maybe she was just trying to stay on Amelie's good side, resisting her as little as possible to avoid the prickly passive-aggression she didn't have the energy to face. Not to mention she had no clue what nerves Gabriel had aggravated during their discussion, and to test that was asking for disaster. Never mind that it was killing her to know what had happened.

As Amelie chatted with Adrien about his troublesome cousin in the backseat, Nathalie glared out the window from beneath the hand on her forehead and tried to justify her choice to tag along. Adrien was right, it was a beautiful day. The sky was spotless and clear. Not much of a breeze. The sun beat down, but in the shade of a patio umbrella, it would be perfectly comfortable. Nathalie hadn't eaten out in - well, she really couldn't name the last time. Maybe the fresh air and some good food would reanimate her. She'd forget how tired she was, and how humiliated.

"Nathalie, dear," Amelie called from behind her. "Adrien was telling me just now how he used to buy you desserts from some patisserie nearby. We could stop there after lunch if you'd like."

"Oh." Nathalie glanced back over her shoulder. The offer was admittedly touching, but she was still tentative. "I don't know. We'll see. I'm not sure if I have much of an appetite right now."

"That'll change when we get to the restaurant. It was one of my favorites before I moved to London." Amelie smiled at her. "So, you've been craving sweet things?"

"I guess."

"When I was pregnant with Felix I craved citrus like nothing else."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I've heard a bunch of old wives' tales about the food you crave indicating the gender of your baby, but I don't know if any of that is true."

"I told Amelie you want to be surprised," Adrien chimed in.

"Which surprises me because from what I've seen of you, you seem to be the type who likes to plan everything out as much as possible," Amelie told her. "I would have thought you'd know everything by now. My husband and I tried to hold off knowing ahead of time, but we caved after a couple months."

Nathalie scratched the back of her neck. This was the first time she was speaking to a woman about pregnancy who wasn't a doctor, and had Nathalie ever expected a conversation like this to come up, she definitely would not have thought it'd be with Amelie Graham de Vanily.

"Do you have a list of names?" asked Amelie.

"No, not yet."

"Not even one or two?!"

"Not really."

She turned to her nephew, mouth dropping open incredulously. "Can you believe this? I had a list of twenty well before I was even married."

"I've even done some thinking," the boy chuckled.

"One of my friends told me when she had her daughter that she hadn't made a list of names beforehand. She looked at her baby and 'just knew.'" Amelie shrugged. "I would think any woman would be way too loopy in that moment to give their baby a name they wouldn't regret two days later. Nathalie, don't be like my friend Julia. Have a list."

"I - I will," she muttered.

"I know it could be overwhelming to try to pick from all the names in the world, but you could do some research into etymology and pick ones that have meaning to you."

"I know...I don't really want to think about this right now."

"Oh, yes, I get it. Some mothers-to-be like to keep these things private until the baby comes." Amelie twirled her braid around her finger. "Well, if you ever need any kind of advice, you can always ask me."

"Right."

"Here," Amelie began to reach into her handbag. "Do you have my number?"

"I don't think I want it," Nathalie snapped, and then bit down on her tongue. In the dead pause that followed, heat rushed up to her face. Adrien's bodyguard cleared his throat in the driver's seat, and Amelie's hand slowly slid back out of her bag before zipping it shut. Nathalie could only see so much of her face, but she could tell her eyes were fixed on her.

"Amelie," she said after a moment, desperate to change the subject and claw herself out of this searing spotlight, "How did your appointment with Mr. Agreste go?"

In the rearview mirror, Adrien's timid gaze flicked from his feet up to his aunt's face. "Oh, Nathalie," Amelie replied, "Let's not worry about that."

But clearly having also not enjoyed Nathalie's sudden outburst and wanting to push them along this detour, Adrien asked, "What were you talking about?"

"Property dispute. Boring adult stuff," Amelie answered him.

Adrien bristled. "Dispute? Are you and Father unhappy with each other?"

"A little conflict now and then is nothing to be frightened of, dear," she told him. And then she leaned forward, grabbing Nathalie's headrest. "Gabriel needed some time alone to think. We didn't come to any sort of agreement, if that's what you're wondering."

"Then what did you come to?"

"Something like an impasse. One of us has to budge, and it won't be me."

"You chose an awfully vulnerable time to bring this issue to the table," murmured Nathalie, quiet enough that Adrien wouldn't hear.

"I know. Forgive me, but there's a particular detail that made this an especially urgent matter for me, but like I said, darling, let's not stress about it right now. That won't help anything. You must have so much going through your head. We're meant to be taking a break from all that." Amelie sat back again and gave a loud, long sigh. "Happy thoughts, people! Adrien, how about your other friends, are they excited for you?"

"Y-yeah," he said, unsure at first whether to take to the conversation. Nathalie shrank in her seat and rested her head on the window. "Two of my really close friends both have much younger siblings, so they know exactly what I'm getting into. Well, not exactly - you know what I mean."

"Of course. This is a little different."

"They're ready to give me a ton of advice."

"As if you'll need it. You have great brotherly instincts. I can tell!"

"Thanks. I hope so. Another one of my friends is a designer and seamstress, and when I told her, she said she wanted to make a miniature line of onesies the baby could wear."

"Well, isn't that darling!"

Nathalie wanted to throw up.

"Adrien, I have to tell you, it is just precious that you're so thrilled about this. I can promise that if it was Felix who was becoming the older brother, he would not nearly be as chipper about it."

"I can see that," Adrien admitted.

"Your positive attitude must really make a difference for everybody."

"I hope so."

"I know things must be so complicated."

From above, a drop of ink trailed across Nathalie's vision. Her spine went erect.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," Adrien mumbled.

"I'm sure they will get better for you all."

"I like to think so too. But maybe it's best if we don't…"

The rest of the Agreste boy's sentence drowned in the roar of white noise erupting in Nathalie's head. Her tired eyes flung wide open and she leaned close to the window once again, close enough and fast enough that a loud knock hammered the air as her forehead hit the glass. She scanned the sky frantically.

There was no way…

In the fraction of the second it had taken her to notice that blot of darkness against the sheet of brilliant blue over their heads, her breath tangled into a knot at the bottom of her throat.

And then she'd said to herself, No, that must be a bird.

It was no bird. That was clear before the thought was complete. The way it moved. The way it glitched through its flight, hindered by the gentle breeze more than any bird could be with its paper-thin wings.

Its color.

It was so -

Dark.

One of the few fraying wires holding Nathalie together snapped.

"Stop the car," she whispered.

The bodyguard glanced at her.

"What was that, Nathalie?" asked Amelie.

"Stop the car. Pull over."

"What?" Adrien scooted forward, his seatbelt stretching as he reached diagonally for Nathalie's seat. "Is something wrong?"

"Are you okay, Nathalie?"

"Pull over now," she snapped at the bodyguard.

He obeyed, switching on his turn signal and immediately surveying the curbside for an open space. Nathalie undid her seatbelt.

"You're not getting out," Amelie said, setting a hand on Nathalie's shoulder.

"Don't touch me."

"Nathalie, please, what's going on?" Adrien urged. Amelie restrained the hand of his that tried to take Nathalie by the arm. Her brow wrinkled deeply. "Are you in pain? Did we do something to upset you?"

The car was still rolling to a stop when she pushed open her door.

"Nathalie-!"

"Stay here," she told them.

Even the bodyguard made a low noise of concern in his throat, but she ignored him too, along with Amelie and Adrien's pleas for her to stay in the car. Their voices silenced as she slammed the door, stepping onto the sidewalk with her gaze whisking across the sky. She searched for it. She searched for the akuma. She'd recognize it anywhere.

This is not happening.

Flapping through the air a fair distance ahead, the coal-black butterfly started to disappear behind a building on the end of the block. Nathalie panicked. She wondered if she'd lost her mind, if she was imagining the thing.

God, she hoped she was imagining it. She would rather be completely insane than swallowed up by the dark hollow wrenching open inside of her. She was light as a feather. She couldn't breathe.

Moved by some force she didn't recognize, she started after the butterfly.

The sidewalks were empty as far as Nathalie was concerned. Head craned towards the sky, the shapes of other pedestrians bobbing in her peripheral vision faded into an opaque blur. She couldn't hear them. She couldn't hear their feet on the ground or their voices chattering into phones. She couldn't hear the rumble of cars past them on the street. Nathalie's pulse pounded against her skull to the rapid rhythm of beating butterfly wings. She turned the corner around the building behind which the akuma had vanished, and once again she spotted it ahead, a tiny, dangerous blemish on a perfect blue sky.

"Idiot," she said to herself in a voice that sounded trapped underwater. "You're such an idiot."

She couldn't lose it. She needed to see this. She needed him to see her. She needed - fuck, Nathalie didn't know what. It was all being taken from her at once. Every hope she'd ever had. If she stopped moving, she feared she would drop dead.

Nathalie crossed through the middle of the road. Somebody yelled at her. She didn't look their way. Squeezing between two cars parked by the curb, Nathalie pressed on and moved as fast as she could. She was quicker than the akuma. She was gaining.

"Hey!" Nathalie's shoulder collided with a pedestrian, and she looked back down only briefly to watch them turn around, brows stitched together in aggravation "Watch where you're -"

The color drained from the young man's face as his eyes flicked down. Nathalie pushed past him.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" he called after her.

Someone else asked, "Is she okay?"

"Hey, lady!"

Nathalie wanted them all to disappear.

After the akuma had led her down another block, it started to descend, gently sloping towards a bus stop on the corner. It was close enough that Nathalie caught the glimmer of purple on its onyx wings.

Maybe this wasn't in earnest. Maybe he was doing what he'd done a year ago, merely taking the opportunity to run Amelie out of the city...

"No," Nathalie whimpered. That was stupid. That was so stupid. She was so stupid.

The akuma fluttered around the bus shelter. A perturbed looking man in a business suit and with a briefcase between his feet leaned against an advertisement and glared into the street. He was the one.

"No," she said again, louder. Her breath raked out sharply, and Nathalie noticed all of the sudden how dry her throat was. She coughed painfully. Her head throbbed with the effort and shook her violently out of her trance.

What on earth was she...?

Someone shouted, "Akuma!" The man at the bus stop cried out, and then went suddenly quiet.

Nathalie veered into a light post to catch herself from falling. In an instant, the shock melted out of her body. She was very aware of the heat of the midday sun on the back of her neck, of the pain that was slowly crawling down her body, radiating further with every pulse of her skull.

"Get to safety! Before he transforms!"

She held onto the light post with quivering arms. All of the exhaustion that had bogged her down the last several days flooded right back in with a sudden, irresistible force, and Nathalie groaned. She tried to look around to see where she was, what street she was on. How had she made it so far? Where was the car? She couldn't walk back. Blisters burned on her feet. Her legs were numb.

Her surroundings tilted. Then they went dark.

"Nathalie!"

She slumped into somebody's arms. The world flung itself out of view and the sky opened up again, spotless. Then somebody leaned over her. Worried eyes searched her face.

"Emilie?" she breathed.

"Shit, come on, you'll be fine." Amelie cushioned Nathalie's head in her arms and began looking around frantically. "Somebody-" She threw her phone at a pedestrian. "Call my driver. Or call an ambulance. Call someone! Does anybody have water?"

Nathalie didn't want water. She wanted to go to sleep.

"Okay, talk to me. Are you in pain, Nathalie?"

Her hands felt fuzzy. She cupped her midsection but it was like touching static. A small whine escaped her lips. Her baby. Her baby was okay, right? Nathalie would have sobbed if she had the energy. What if she'd hurt it? What was she thinking?

A spot of blackness bloomed across her vision. A hole cracking open in the sky. She was losing consciousness.

But then…

It wasn't a hole in the sky. It was a butterfly. Coming nearer. Blinding her.

It was gone.

Nathalie shifted. A familiar current coursed through her blood as the akuma's power dispersed. Her mind intersected with another. The world brightened. The sky turned purple. She felt awake.

"The akuma!" someone yelled.

"It flew into her glasses!"

Nathalie.

She gasped.

Stay awake, Nathalie.

He sounded so afraid.

"Please," she whispered.

Don't speak. Conserve your energy. Focus on my voice.

Terrified. Ashamed.

I love you. I love you so much. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. I'm here.

"The baby."

"Nathalie?" She heard Amelie say, "What's with the baby? What - what do I need to do? What do I do about this?" she asked a bystander.

I...I can feel it, Gabriel told her breathlessly.

"You can?"

I can feel it. I-I don't know if anything's wrong but I know at least it's not in distress. Stay with me, okay? You're going to be fine.

"Don't let her be akumatized!" another stranger cried.

"How could you?" Nathalie wheezed.

She felt him all around her. She felt his pain the way he must have felt hers, and a spark of his anger, a small flame amidst the anguish, inhaled into life directed at the one who held her now. She tried to sink closer to him. She tried to believe that his arms were the ones that cradled her.

She jolted as the glasses slipped off her face.

No! He protested

She echoed a weak and trembling, "No.."

Amelie handed them to the closest bystander, who promptly snapped them in half and dropped the pieces on the concrete sidewalk.

Nathalie, I -

His voice - his presence - left her, like a blanket slipping off her back.

The darkness closed back in.

Nathalie blacked out among the echoes of a distant, wailing siren.

Chapter Text

Adrien flung himself into his father's arms as soon as he appeared, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, Gabriel embraced him back without hesitation.

"You're here," his son mumbled into his chest.

"I came as quickly as I could. Is she okay?"

"They're with her now." Adrien tightened his hold. "I'm so scared."

"So am I, son," Gabriel whispered. He looked over the waiting room, at the number of people occupying a cluster of chairs, all of whom were faceless to him. All he could imagine was Nathalie, the sheet-white complexion and unfocused blue eyes he envisioned for those few precious seconds their minds were converged.

"Aunt Amelie said the EMTs think she just collapsed from exhaustion, but they have to make sure everything is fine with the baby." Finally, Adrien pulled away. He wiped his red-rimmed eyes with the back of hand and dropped back into the seat below him. "I really hope nothing's wrong."

"What happened, Adrien?"

"I don't know." His son pushed his shaggy blonde hair off of his forehead. "We were on the way to lunch. Nathalie seemed upset, but at one point she asks G to pull the car over and then she takes off by herself down the street. Amelie left to follow her, and then next thing I knew, we were getting a call to meet them at the hospital." He shook his head and dragged his hand down the side of his face. "And now they're saying there was an akuma sighting and - I guess Hawk Moth tried to akumatize her?"

Gabriel tried to let the flash of horror in his son's gaze wash over him. He sat down in the chair beside him and took him by the shoulder. "Why on earth was Nathalie out of the house?"

"What do you mean? Was she not supposed to leave?"

"She's been under a great deal of pressure. Didn't you think she seemed sick this morning?"

Adrien covered his eyes. "I shouldn't have invited her."

"No, no." Gabriel rubbed his son's shoulder, a thorn of guilt sinking into his heart. "Don't think this is your fault. I didn't mean to shift the blame onto you. I alone am responsible for this, if anybody."

"Father, you weren't even there."

"That's not the point," he murmured. "I should have been more attentive to her. I know how much hardship she's been facing, not just in the last few days, but over the last several months, and I…" Gabriel paused, for the tension in his voice had thickened and he didn't want to let the tears go. Adrien glanced up at him.

"I've been so terrible," he finally said, curling his fingers stiffly around his knees. "She'd always deserved the world from me, and all I could ever give her was trouble and false hope. She's felt isolated and unsupported for months, and I made her that way. Now, she's here." He set his glasses in his lap and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Even if the baby is fine, I have hurt her so much already. I don't think I could ever forgive myself."

"Father," whispered Adrien.

Recognizing his own emotional candor, Gabriel turned his head away.

"I know you love Nathalie," his son said. "And I could never understand why you had to make things so hard. I get you miss Mom, but Nathalie needs a partner. She deserved more than being your second priority."

"You have every right to be upset with me," grumbled Gabriel.

"I am upset! But I'm upset because I'm afraid. I'm afraid she's not okay and I'm afraid it's too late for you to do the right thing." Adrien grabbed his father's forearm, but Gabriel still did not look at him. "I love my Mom but it's not worth hurting over her being gone if it's going to hurt everyone else in my life, you know?"

Out of Adrien's view, a teardrop slipped from the corner of Gabriel's eye. "I know that now. I've made an awful mistake."

"You have to talk to her. You have to tell her you're going to be there for her. Really there for her."

"I plan on it." Gabriel shook off his son's grip. "Though, after this, I doubt she will want me."

"Don't forget," Adrien growled, "Hawk Moth's the one who made what happened today so much worse. He tried to take advantage of a sick pregnant woman! He's more of a monster than any of us thought. I can't believe he would come out of hiding for this."

"Adrien…"

"That's a person who can never be forgiven. But you? You still have a chance, Father."

The pair of swinging doors leading back into the waiting area from a hallway of treatment rooms swung open, and a spark of anger flared through Gabriel's blood as he laid eyes on Amelie Graham de Vanily. She spotted him at once, and her own expression darkened visibly before she approached father and son with tightly crossed arms.

"Is everything okay?" Adrien asked eagerly, half out of his chair.

Amelie nodded. "She overexerted herself. Dehydrated. But from what they can tell right now, the baby is alright."

"They let you in with her?" demanded Gabriel incredulously.

"She didn't want to be alone. And I saw what had happened. I was there to answer questions about this bizarre turn of events." Amelie narrowed her eyes at him. "Gabriel, I'd like to talk to you privately."

"We've spoken quite enough today," he snapped.

"Well, I'm about to leave the city, so now's your only shot."

Despite his wariness of her intentions, Gabriel followed her out, telling Adrien to interrupt if Nathalie happened to want to see him. Just outside the ER entrance, Amelie reached into her handbag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"You smoke?" Gabriel said. "I thought you and Emilie were completely against that kind of thing."

"Fucking sue me," she muttered, igniting it between her teeth. After her first drag, she offered the pack to him. "Want one?"

"Seriously?"

She rattled it.

"Fine." He took a cigarette and let her light it for him. Then she returned the items to her bag and swept her gaze over the parking lot, blowing a thin white trail of smoke from between her coral lips.

"You were there," he said after a moment, tapping his ring finger against his cig. "What in the world…?"

She glanced sideways at him. "I don't know. The whole thing is strange. When she first demanded to get out of the car, I figured she was upset with me."

"What did you say to her?" he questioned.

"I didn't repeat back anything that you told me earlier. I'm not here to make a pregnant woman suffer any more than she already is, you know." Amelie rolled her cigarette between her fingers. "Anyway. She takes off down the street. I don't get out until she turns the corner, and by the time I catch up with her she's gone, what? Two or three blocks? Running as best she can. I didn't even see the akuma until it was already in her face. She told me a few minutes ago that she was following it, but she wouldn't tell me why."

Gabriel leaned against the brick column behind his back. "How is she doing?"

"Miserably."

"What else has she said?"

"Not much. The nurses have really had to press to get her to answer any questions. I think she's in shock. She also can't see at the moment, because we broke her glasses to keep her from being akumatized. I'm sure that doesn't help."

Amelie didn't know Gabriel had witnessed that, so he didn't tell her he brought Nathalie's spare pair along with him. He took a deep drag and looked at the ground, heart aching with desperation to see her.

"As for the reason I brought you out here," Amelie said, orienting towards him, "I have no interest in causing additional problems for you while Nathalie is in this state, because, contrary to what you must believe, I am not a monster. So, in a minute I'll have your driver return me to your house so I can grab my stuff, and then I'm going back to London."

"Great," he rumbled.

"You're free to postpone your troubles about the rings for the time being."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Postpone?"

"I expect you'll return the other to me in time."

"Amelie, I would very much prefer to never have to think about you again."

One of her twisted smiles stretched across her face, but looking a little harder, Gabriel saw that it was strained. Amelie flicked a rain of ash to the ground and said, "I feel the same way, Gabriel. But I am sure you underestimate how much these rings mean to me."

"I don't care. Forget Emilie: with the way you have spoken to me regarding this issue, I should withhold anything at all that you ask of me," he said.

"Aw, you mean if I had only said please?"

"Just go, Amelie."

She took one last drag and tossed the cigarette on the ground to extinguish with the toe of her sandal. "Very well. Send your driver to me, and I'll be on my way. But still - I am generous, so I will give you due time to reconsider. I am certain you will regret it if you don't."

"Oh, more threats?" he sneered.

"And they don't come empty." She had the nerve to actually wink.

Gabriel put out his cigarette. "How endearing."

"Tell Nathalie I wish her the best."

"I won't."

"God, you're charming."

"Goodbye, Amelie." Gabriel turned heel and re-entered the hospital alone, sending a text to G to bring Amelie back to the mansion to retrieve her bag and let her not roam around without his close supervision. Considering just how furious he was with Amelie and her manipulative bullshit, he was surprised at himself for not leaving her with worse. But then again, his energy was needed elsewhere, and if he never saw the woman again, he would be perfectly content.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Gabriel was admitted to see Nathalie.

"Can I come too?" Adrien asked, standing up.

"I'm sorry, kid. She wants to be alone with Mr. Agreste," the nurse said sympathetically.

"Perhaps you can still catch up with Amelie and head home," Gabriel suggested.

"Not before I see that Nathalie's alright."

"I understand, but I don't want her to get overwhelmed. I can text you about how she's doing."

"No, I'm staying," Adrien replied with a frown. He sat back down and folded his arms. "Well, go on. Don't keep her waiting."

Gabriel sighed and went with the nurse. As he walked up and down the long corridors on the way to Nathalie's room, his heart hammered and his mouth went dry. He hadn't felt this way since he visited her apartment right after Christmas, walking along a path of broken glass to reach the one he'd broken. He didn't think it was possible, but right now he felt even worse than he'd felt then.

She was laying flat on her side when he came in, facing the door but not looking at him as he entered. Gabriel inhaled sharply. Her expression was stony and emotionless, her eyes half-closed but clear. One arm, to which a couple of IV tubes were attached, was outstretched off the side of the bed; the other was curled around her belly, mostly hidden by the sheet covering part of her body. About half of her hair was still tied into a slowly disintegrating bun. The rest was framing that bone-white visage of hers that barely twitched as he approached.

"She's been pretty unresponsive," the nurse whispered to Gabriel. "We've contacted her clinical social worker, who will be arriving shortly. I'll leave you two."

Once he'd gone, Gabriel pulled a chair up beside the bed.

He took the outstretched hand as delicately as though it was made of paper. Nathalie remained motionless for a moment, not reacting to his touch, before she slowly closed her fingers around the back of his hand.

He whispered, "Nathalie."

Only now did she look at him, squinting, trying to make out the blur that was his face. Still holding her hand, he pulled out her spare pair of glasses from the inner pocket of his jacket, unfolded them, and slipped them on her face. She blinked. She closed her tired eyes with a thick sigh.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

She nodded.

"What hurts?"

"My head," she croaked. "My legs."

"They said the baby is okay?"

Again, she nodded. The arm around her belly hugged it tighter.

"Nathalie," he said. Gabriel moved closer, and she turned her head away from him, a reaction which broke his heart. "Nathalie," he said again, voice cracking, "I am so, so sorry."

A small, wavering voice left a mark on his soul. "I wish you'd told me."

"Told you?"

"That you'd made your choice."

Like gravity, shame pulled him towards the earth. He squeezed her hand and she didn't squeeze back. "I didn't make my choice," he murmured.

"Then what was that?"

"I didn't make my choice because I wasn't thinking at all. I was angry, angry enough to make the worst mistake of my life."

The first trace of emotion rippled across her face, drawing her brows together, sharpening her stare aimed up at the ceiling. She said nothing.

"My pride got the better of me," he went on. "I was so insulted by Amelie's accusations that the only thing I cared about was proving her wrong. She broke me down, made me feel like nothing, like a failure, but I never should have let her distort my priorities. There is no amount of pride worth keeping over your well-being, Nathalie."

She didn't look like she believed him, and Gabriel couldn't blame her. After a moment, she asked, "What did Amelie say to you?"

"A lot of very hurtful, very true things," he admitted. Thinking back on their exchange made him bristle, all leading up to a bleary spot in his memory of pure, blind emotion. He heaved a rough sigh. "I wish I had come to my senses soon enough that her words couldn't wound me. She told me I didn't deserve my wedding ring and that I don't care as much about Emilie as I say. She was right."

Now, Nathalie glanced back at him.

He gently stroked back some of the hair in her face. "I wish I'd never hurt you. I was scared of letting Emilie go, but the worst thing I've ever done is let my fear and my pride cause you so much pain. You don't deserve any of it, Nathalie. You deserve somebody who is going to stand firmly beside you. I'll never regret anything more than not loving you the way you should have always been loved." His vision blurred with tears, and he took a deep breath that did not stop his voice from sharply breaking as he told her, "I love you. And I choose you. And I choose everything that comes with you."

Releasing her hand, he slowly set his touch on her belly. She stared at him.

"I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm so sorry, Nathalie."

Seeing her like this, pale and exhausted in a hospital bed after he'd feared he was going to lose her, and knowing it was his fault alone, Gabriel didn't know how he even had the strength to face her. He'd been so relieved to see her awake, but now he was unraveling. It was different from seeing her sick as a result of the peacock miraculous. It was somehow so much worse than that. He'd been eaten alive by the guilt for letting her destroy her health, but for some reason she still seemed so strong and so determined and so fiery behind her thinning face. All of that had long been extinguished. He sifted through the cinders of the woman he once knew in search of the heat of her fight. He loved her more than ever for the both of them. He feared it couldn't be said enough to make anything right.

Nathalie finally took in a long, slow, breath and pressed his hand firmer to her belly. She weakly asked, "What am I supposed to do?"

He leaned a little closer. "When you get discharged, I'll bring you home to rest. I promise you, I'll take care of our situation at work. You won't have to worry about -"

She shook her head. "I'm scared, Gabriel."

"I know."

"I'm scared because I know you love me and I know you're sorry, but I just don't think I can do this anymore."

Withdrawing slightly, a pang of dread tolled through his chest.

"Louise has been telling me I need to separate myself from you," she murmured. The social worker, who'd only seen Gabriel once upon her initial arrival to the house. "She doesn't think it's good for me to live with you, to work with you, to wait on you, to spend all my time hoping that maybe one day you could come around. You know the only reason I haven't admitted she's right is because I don't have anywhere else to go?"

The air caught in Gabriel's throat.

"I don't have family, I don't have friends, now your other employees don't respect me. I could live alone in my apartment, but the truth is I can't. I can't be alone. I don't trust myself to be alone." She was crying steadily now, the tears sliding down her temple. "You're all I have and I barely have you."

"Nathalie-" He didn't make it past her name. Bombarded with guilt, Gabriel could hardly breathe.

She sobbed, "Was this the price I had to pay to be wanted?"

His spirit shattered.

Gabriel threw his arms around her, weeping. "No, no, no, no. Oh God, Nathalie, I'm so sorry." He cradled the back of her head, held her tight as she trembled with her cries. She did not quite hug him back, but she periodically grasped at his sleeves and tried to sit up further. Gabriel didn't know if his words were discernible past the depth of his own emotion as he told her, "I always wanted you. I always, always wanted you. Since August, I wanted you. I was just so stupid. So stupid and so insensitive…"

He couldn't manage to say anything else with the way his body shuddered. Gabriel hadn't cried like this since he was young. Even when Emilie fell asleep, he tried to hold it all in, drown the worst of it in alcohol, then in work, then in magic. Tears wouldn't save his wife. Tears wouldn't save Nathalie either, but all the walls he'd built to retain his outpours of emotion had finally been crushed and ground to dust under the weight of his remorse. Gabriel held her like he'd die if he let go. All those months he left Nathalie to feel so excruciatingly alone and undesired during the most challenging phase of her life: suddenly all the anguish of his grief for Emilie dissipated as smoke to wind.

Of course he didn't want to end Emilie's life for good. Of course he still loved her the way one loves anybody they once knew. Of course - later, when he would finally put her to rest - saying goodbye would ache; it would hang on him. But that was his fight alone. And more than anything, Nathalie needed to know that she wasn't, that she would never be again.

When the worst of his sobs had eased up, he pulled back a little and took her face between his hands. Glassy eyes peered back at him, transparently exhibiting the misery behind them, but also the love. The love he didn't deserve.

"I want to do what is right for you," he whispered, wiping at her tears with his thumbs, "whatever it is. Whatever is broken, I want to fix it. I'll do everything I can, I swear it. If you'll allow me."

She grabbed his wrists. "Gabriel...I want to believe you."

"What will it take?" he pleaded.

"You can't take back anything you've done."

"I know." He hung his head, tasting salt on his lips.

"I want you in my life. I can't start over, not now."

Gabriel whispered, "But I can."

As he stroked her cheek, a deep breath sailed in and out of his tired lungs. He wished he could prove everything to Nathalie right where they sat, but with how much he'd hurt her, he knew if he ever mended their wounds, it would take time. It was time he was willing to spend in a heartbeat.

"Nathalie, I promise, I'll be the changed man you saw in December. I'll be better than him, because no matter what, I will not ever turn away from you. More than anything, I wish that I never had. You've meant the world to me for so long, and I would have been foolish to give it up even if it had only been for a second."

She looked down. "Gabriel, I think I'm overwhelmed."

He pulled away, nodding through the stab of grief.

A quivering pair of hands came to rest on her midsection, and Nathalie spent the next couple minutes focusing on breathing evenly and stopping her crying. Then, when all was calm again, apart from her puffy, red eyes, Nathalie murmured, "I love you, Gabriel."

"I love you too."

"I'm going to talk about it with Louise."

This troubled him, of course, now knowing that Nathalie's social worker had been advocating for their separation, but Gabriel could not pretend he had no clue where the woman was coming from. Swallowing his doubts, he said, "Okay, Nathalie."

"Also," she said, rubbing the side of her nose, "Why do you smell like cigarettes?"

He shook his head and glanced down. "Amelie offered."

They sat in silence together until a nurse popped her head in and was told to admit Adrien. A few minutes later, the boy rushed into the room and went straight for the bed, to hug a Nathalie who could finally muster a smile.

"Oh my gosh," Adrien cried, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so glad you're okay. I was worried out of my mind."

"I'm sorry, Adrien."

"Don't be sorry! Don't be sorry. I'm just so happy it's over." He stepped away, and she let him feel her belly. "How is the baby doing?"

"Quiet," she answered. "Hasn't moved in a while."

"Are you sure everything is okay?" asked Gabriel, worryingly leaning forward.

"They detected a normal heartbeat earlier. I think after Louise comes, they're going to move me to a different exam room and do an ultrasound to be especially sure. I'll probably be staying overnight for observation." Nathalie adjusted the pillows behind her. "I think I've exhausted the both of us."

Adrien sat in another chair with his hands in his pockets and looked down at the tiled floor. "It's been a crazy day," he muttered.

"Definitely," Nathalie chuckled.

"And it's barely 3. I've forgotten all about eating. So much for that lunch, huh? But, I'll still go to the Dupain-Cheng's later and get you something, Nathalie. You deserve a hundred pies after all of this."

She looked genuinely touched by this. Gabriel's heart warmed at seeing the life slowly return to her. "That's sweet Adrien."

"I'll get you something chocolate."

"Oh, please."

Adrien laughed. Then, he glanced between Gabriel and Nathalie, quiet for a few moments before asking, "Did you guys talk?"

"Yes," his father replied, looking sharply at him. "And we'll probably talk more later, but for now, Nathalie is tired."

"Okay, that's fine." Gabriel was grateful that his son didn't press for once, but he wasn't very pleased with the next topic of conversation he tried to introduce. "Can you guys believe Hawk Moth?"

"Adrien…"

"What kind of psychopath tries to akumatize a pregnant woman?"

"Let's not discuss it," Gabriel snapped.

"I'm just saying. Not only is it downright evil, it's weird."

"Listen to your father, Adrien," said Nathalie. "I don't want to talk about this either."

"You remember it? Really? What was he saying?"

"Give it a rest," Gabriel rumbled.

Adrien deflated. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, Nathalie. It's just been bothering me this whole time."

"That's okay. I understand."

They attempted to chat about much more benign topics, although all three of them found it to be quite a challenge with how on edge each of them felt. It was easiest to let Adrien talk about school or about his friends, as strange as it felt to ignore the elephant in the room that was the room itself. Gabriel stole frequent looks at Nathalie, who sat up in the bed tracing the entry point of the needles in her arm as she listened to Adrien speak.

It wasn't long before a doctor interrupted them, followed by a familiar companion Gabriel recognized as Louise. She was a short but sturdy woman in her forties, with a kind face he couldn't imagine disapproving of anyone. But he knew better. Upon seeing Nathalie, she brushed back her dark blonde bangs and smiled warmly, brow creased with sympathy.

Gabriel stood up and offered his chair to her. Giving a pleasant, "Thank you," she didn't give off the impression that she disliked him, but Gabriel noticed that her eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary as he stepped towards Adrien and waved the boy out of his seat.

"My estimation is she'll be ready to head home first thing in the morning," the doctor informed them.

"Do you want us to stick around, Nathalie?" Adrien asked.

She shook her head. "No, I think you two should go home."

Gabriel flinched. "Nathalie-"

"I'll be okay. No need waiting around for me, but I'll call you later," she said to Gabriel.

He swallowed. "Okay. Good luck."

Leaving her felt so wrong.

Gabriel had left the miraculous on the floor of the lair. He'd wasted no time after his connection with Nathalie had been broken, tearing off the butterfly brooch and tossing it away as he'd done the peacock minutes before. He'd rushed out of the lair, out of the house, but he was so disoriented by panic, he had no idea where to run. He ran inside. He looked for Adrien, but he was gone. He'd gone out with Amelie.

After about three minutes of directionless fretting, he'd received a phone call from Adrien telling him Nathalie was riding to the hospital in an ambulance.

What had he done? What had he done?

Now, he picked his discarded brooches and returned to the atelier to place them in the vault again, where they belonged. Locked away from his sight. Out of mind. He would burn those things if it was possible.

He straightened the crooked photograph on the wall and cleaned Nathalie's desk, wiping away Amelie's fingerprints from the glass. Every trace of her was gone from the house. Her bag had been removed from the guest room already and now there was no sign she had ever been there. No sign but the knot in Gabriel's stomach and the weight in his heart. It would be a nightmare discussing this with Dr. Richter on Tuesday. There were already circulating news stories about the sudden akuma sightings, Hawk Moth's apparent emergence from hiding, and the currently unidentified, probably very-soon-to-be-identified pregnant woman who served as one of his victims. The Ladyblog, at least, would certainly be reaching out for an interview as soon as the city found out it was Nathalie writhing behind that glowing visor. His company would have something to say about it too, but Gabriel would no longer let any one of them within the means of contacting Nathalie unless she allowed it, and she wouldn't. The point was, Richter was sure to know all about the day's disaster before the sun had set, and it was even possible that between then and their session, a lot more will have changed, depending on whether or not Nathalie finally decided to take Louise's advice.

There was no use trying to work. Gabriel found himself doing something he almost never did and abandoned his atelier as early as the midafternoon, retreating to his room to wait out the rest of the day. He set his cell phone on the nightstand, laid flat on his back fully dressed but for his shoes, and felt, as he finally stopped moving, all of his nervous energy seep right out of him.

Gabriel, still with the glasses on his face, shut his eyes and fell almost immediately into a state of almost-sleep, in which his body remained perfectly still, but his mind raced with vivid images and sounds making up a delicate fabric of his dreams, draped over him in a thin barrier between himself and the room of which he was still vaguely conscious. The phone was silent. The windows were open. In Gabriel's head, he watched himself burrow deeper and deeper into the walk-in closet. He pulled dresses and jackets off the hangers and tossed it all into a great big pile behind him, which he couldn't see, but he knew was growing mountainous, comically so. But Gabriel wasn't laughing. His heart was heavy. His hands moved with lightning speed. It was all a blur of color. From the back of the closet, he removed a light pink robe. He held it for a moment. He tried to feel the plush texture of the sleeve, but his fingertips were numb. And then he threw it away.

The closet was gone. When he turned around he was outside. Kind of. His face was outside, but somehow the rest of his body was shrouded in the dark. The sun warmed his forehead and nothing else. He couldn't see much past the violet glare in his eyes. When he reached out to feel what was in front of him, all he grasped was empty air. A hand cupped his face. He couldn't touch it. Someone was crying. He couldn't talk to them. The words left him slow and quiet and completely indistinguishable. He wanted to get closer, but he only walked into a wall. Maybe he was the one crying.

The violet light faded into the glow of the refrigerator in the dark, and Gabriel closed the door. He thought someone was behind him, but when he looked back, the kitchen was empty. One of the walls was missing. And the house was missing behind it. Instead, the kitchen led right into a hospital room. He had a glass in his hand, and whatever was in it was splashing out onto the ground as he attempted to walk from the kitchen to the occupied bed. The contents were endless it seemed. So was the walk. The room was right in front of him but he could never seem to reach it. He called out Nathalie's name, but the sound was garbled as if he'd had the drink in his mouth. Someone stepped in front of him and started pushing him back. It was Hawk Moth. It was Louise. It was Emilie (or Amelie. He somehow couldn't tell which). His tailbone struck the island countertop, and it was Nathalie.

She took the glass from him and it shattered in her hand. "I don't know what to do," she said.

"I know what to do," he tried to tell her.

She looked very sick. Then she fell back and disappeared.

The kitchen was trembling. It was vibrating. Gabriel's eyes snapped open and he scrambled for his phone on the nightstand. Through his grogginess, he struggled to read the name on the display. Deep golden sunlight saturated the room. An hour or two had gone by. He answered.

"Hello?" he rasped.

"Gabriel."

"Nathalie?"

"You sound like you just woke up."

"I did. How are you?"

"Same as when you left. But they did an ultrasound, and everything is okay."

He breathed a sigh of relief and dropped back onto his pillow. Then, mustering some courage, he asked, "And your talk with Louise?"

"Well, the whole story is pretty troubling, isn't it? At least the version of it I could tell her."

"What did you say?"

"I saw the akuma and followed it because I wanted to see if it was real. Pretty weak story, huh?"

"Is that what she thought?"

"Well, she didn't understand. She tried to get at why I didn't just think to report it or even tell anybody else I was with, or why I thought chasing it down three blocks until passing out was a remotely sound-of-mind thing to do. I couldn't answer a lot of her questions. I don't have it in me to make up any more lies." Nathalie paused. In the lingering dream-like state of his mind, Gabriel could see her fiddling the fabric of her bedsheet as she considered what to say next. "Talking about it just made me feel crazier. I can't even acknowledge what really happened. We weren't able to get to the root of why I need help."

"You still need time to think about what to do," Gabriel said.

"Louise wondered if the two of us announcing the pregnancy was an indication that we were finally on the same page, but I don't think she would have even believed it if I told her yes."

"You told her no."

"The answer was no before a few hours ago."

"Yes…"

"When you came to see me earlier, I felt half-dead, I'm not going to lie to you," Nathalie murmured. "My head's a little clearer now, and I'm thinking back on our conversation, and all those things you said to me. The truth is I...I can't know yet if you're going to mean all of those things with time. I believe you mean them now. But what if a few weeks go by and we leave this day behind us, and you realize you still aren't ready?"

"Nathalie-"

"What if it's a month? A year? Five years?"

"That won't happen," he asserted, shaken completely awake now.

"I know I sound out of my mind."

"You have every right to think those things. I've lost your trust." Gabriel winced as he said it. Every day, Nathalie's faith in him had amazed him again and again and he still took it for granted. Even such marvelous things had their limits. "Nathalie?"

"Yes?"

"I understand your fears. I understand completely. I want you to know that." He reached for the knob of his bedside drawer and pulled it open. "But I also want you to know...there hasn't been a day that's passed that I wasn't thinking about you and the baby, and how terrified I was to want you both because I knew deep down that I did want you. And I want you now. I want you always. I'm not afraid to say it anymore. When we were together, even though I was happy, I'd have never let myself admit that you were the future I was looking for, but I'll say it now, and I'll say it every day." He grabbed the sonogram, the picture of the baby. His baby. His and Nathalie's baby. "Do you know what I'm holding right now?"

She said nothing for several beats. Then a small, breathless voice, asked, "What?"

"That photo of the baby Adrien gave me a month ago."

Silence.

"I've kept it beside my bed all this time."

"You...what?"

"I'm scared to meet them. But if they're anything like their mother, I think we'll get along."

"Gabriel, please…"

"If I ever show you, Nathalie, that even a fraction of my mind has changed from this moment, then I hope you'll never forgive me. But I know what's in my heart now. It's bold of me, after today, after the last several months, but I ask for your forgiveness and I ask you for one more chance. I won't waste it. I won't lose you." His eyes welled up again. A suffocating weight was lifting away from him, and as he spoke, Gabriel felt like he was floating. "Be with me?"

On the other end, Nathalie was not responding. He had to check to see if she had hung up, but the call timer pressed on by the second. Her name glowed at him. Gabriel held his breath.

And then, a little cry broke through the quiet.

"Nathalie?"

"Gabriel, I don't know what to say," she gasped.

"You don't have to. You don't have to say anything."

"I can't believe you kept it. I forgot about that photo. I forgot…" Nathalie laughed. "And you had it all this time?"

"I'd never let go of such a thing. Not unless you wanted it."

"It's ours," she said, sniffling. "Oh my God. Gabriel?"

"Yes, Nathalie?"

"I want you too."

A brilliant warmth flooded his chest.

"I want you to always mean what you've said."

"Every day, I will show you I do."

"Will you, truly?"

"Truly, Nathalie."

"I'm terrified."

"That's fine," he soothed. "That's fine. Someday soon, you won't have to be."

She took a moment to gather herself. "I'm going to eat soon," she told him. "And then I'm going to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Adrien I'm okay. I love you."

"I love you too, my dear. I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry. I know. It's...it's not okay." He could see her smile. "But - I hope that's going to change."

She disconnected.

With a heavy breath, Gabriel slowly drifted back down to earth, hugging the sonogram to his chest.

Chapter Text

That Sunday morning, the yellow burnish of the clouds in the east and the lingering smell of rain stirred in Nathalie, a rare fondness for the outdoors. The stark and sterile atmosphere of the hospital had begun to grate on her once she was sensible enough following her crisis to mind it. At dawn, a brief heavy rain had pounded against the window of her room, rousing her out of her sleep to prepare to be discharged and hanging in the air even as it quickly went. Now, the sun's glare was softened by the haze in the sky, and it reminded Nathalie of the imminent arrival of summer, a summer that would change her life completely. She was not ready to envision it. She only inhaled the taste of the damp earth and shivered lightly at the coolness of morning against her neck as Gabriel brought her to the car.

She was in this weird fight with herself. All night and all while she was getting ready to leave, Nathalie tipped back and forth between desperation to see Gabriel again and stomach-churning dread. It wasn't that any part of her didn't want to see him, but she wasn't feeling ready. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she was convinced her life was over, that it had been beaten and bashed and squeezed out of her to the very last drop while the universe laughed. Patient Nathalie. Resilient Nathalie. Willing-to-die-for-you Nathalie. How hard do the punches have to be to kill your spirit? How much can you take before you're not trying to die for anybody but your poor, tired self? Nathalie got into the car and out of the calm, misty morning and wondered how she had been saved so quickly, and if she had really been saved at all. Gabriel slipped into the seat beside her, told the driver to bring them straight home, and smiled at her like he'd hold on forever. Nathalie had been desperate for that smile. But she was scared of it too. Scared that, like her strength, it couldn't last.

On the way back to the mansion, Nathalie tried not to look at the sky. She stared at the empty passenger seat in front of her and picked relentlessly at her fingernails. The radio was on. Traffic, then the weather forecast. She and Gabriel talked little. Early on in the ride, he put a hand on her knee and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I need a shower," she deadpanned.

"Of course. Have you eaten yet this morning?"

"No."

"Have a relaxing shower, change, and join me for breakfast," he said, removing his hand. "If you'd like."

"I…" The first two-thirds of that plan certainly sounded lovely, but she had no idea what to make of its last item. Nathalie didn't think she wanted normalcy if it was forced, but she also was unconvinced that normalcy was possible without a bit of a push. "I would like."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, it'll be nice."

"Whatever you want, I'll tell the chef to prepare."

"Oh goodness, I don't need to be pampered."

"You just got out of the hospital. Anybody would deserve a little pampering."

She thought for a moment, chewing on her pinkie nail. "Actually, if you could have somebody pick up some almond croissants from the Dupain-Cheng patisserie…"

"Yes, of course. Adrien also bought you a dozen macarons last night for later."

"How kind…"

"Anything else?"

"Scrambled eggs. With chives," she said.

"Perfect." The way he gazed at her would have made Nathalie melt just a few days ago. She missed that softness, that smoky warmth, but her guard must have been twice as thick now. He only made her grieve the previous day all the more. Nathalie looked away, ripping her pinkie nail off with her teeth.

Upon their arrival home, Gabriel went straight for the kitchen to tell the chef their plans for breakfast, and Nathalie ascended to her room. Her tablet was where she left it on the bed, flashing a set of notifications at her when she tapped the screen. Nathalie froze at the prospect of having to acknowledge the external world, and worse yet, that the external world was aware of her, and quite potentially of what she had experienced yesterday. She flipped the device over to hide the screen, plugged her cell phone in to charge, and searched for a change of clothes in the closet. Most of what Nathalie had in maternity clothing was suitable for a work environment; she didn't have many casual outfits other than her pajamas, and a few pieces she had bought early on were starting to get uncomfortable. She'd meant to buy new clothes before now, but somewhere down the road, it must have slipped her mind.

There were a lot of things she probably should have done, or at least started, that she hadn't even thought of. Amelie told her to start brainstorming names. Somehow, it didn't even occur to Nathalie that her baby needed a name. It would also need a nursery. And clothes. And a pediatrician. Starting to panic, Nathalie shut away those thoughts and yanked the first items of clothing she touched along with her to the bathroom.

One good, long shower later, after dressing and blow-drying her hair, Nathalie walked to the dining room, where she found Gabriel and Adrien in midconversation by the fireplace. By the look on Gabriel's face, she could tell he wasn't happy about whatever Adrien was trying to say to him, but as soon as she walked in, the tension in his brow dissolved.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Adrien stood up. "Nathalie, you're back!"

"I'm back." She smoothed out her hair, smiling shyly at the boy. "I couldn't wait to get out of there."

"I wanted to come with to pick you up, but I stayed up late last night and slept in a little longer than I meant to."

"Oh, that's fine. I'm glad to see you now."

Adrien motioned to the table, where a box of the almond croissants she requested were sitting. "We got half-a-dozen. The Dupain-Chengs gave it to us for free since they heard about -"

"Adrien…" Gabriel warned.

He cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, it was a gift. And the rest will be ready soon."

"They know?" Nathalie murmured. "About...yesterday?"

"Please, you don't have to worry about it," said Gabriel, rising from his chair.

"Does everyone know?"

Adrien held up his phone. "It's...been in the news."

"Oh," she sighed. Her hands curled around the back of a chair.

"They only talk about you a little bit. Mostly, everyone is just concerned about whether or not this means Hawk Moth is back in business."

"I'm sure Nathalie isn't pleased with the attention either way. Remember what we agreed on yesterday, son." Gabriel set a hand on Adrien's shoulder. "We don't wish to talk about this. I get you're concerned - I bet you were up so late because you were talking about the situation with your friends - but please be mindful."

"I didn't mean to bring it up. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Nathalie reassured him; though, behind the slight upturn of her lips, the words tasted sour.

"They wish you well. The Dupain-Chengs," said Adrien quietly.

And that was nice, but Nathalie couldn't help wishing that nobody outside of this house even knew she existed.

A few minutes later, the rest of their breakfast was brought out, and Nathalie tried not to let the steep drop of her mood keep her from enjoying it. The food was excellent, the eggs creamy, the croissants still warm; she munched on some raspberries and glared at Gabriel across the table as he lifted a steaming mug to his lips. Catching her, he asked, "What?"

"I miss coffee."

"There's always decaf."

"If I drink decaf, I'm going to be drinking the real thing within the hour."

"One day, you'll have it back."

"Couldn't come soon enough. Luckily, I've already gotten plenty of practice with missing out on sleep."

Eating with Gabriel and Adrien again, Nathalie was reminded of those four glorious months before everything crumbled to pieces, when conversation was light and everything else was deceptively simple. She could see through the veil now, all the danger she had tried to ignore before, how it had grown bigger and uglier, fatal enough to break not only her dream, but her whole reality. Maybe if she had woken up a lot sooner, this nightmare would have stayed in her head. The calm - within which she was situated on the other side of that thin, fragile barrier - gently persisted alongside the conversation, this unconvincing picture of what they were trying to work towards. Nathalie didn't know how much Gabriel and Adrien believed in their own performances right now, but she, as much as she tried to chuckle along to their trite, awkward anecdotes, was disappointed in her own play-pretend. Maybe she was thinking too hard. Maybe she was being paranoid. How easily could it all really come undone?

It didn't help that she should have sat on the other side of the table. Nathalie faced the portrait of a family that could have become whole yesterday, and as loudly as half of her brain screamed at her to expel such thoughts, the other half pictured Emilie in her place instead, led by a butterfly out of the dark. You're making yourself feel worse, she thought, forcing her gaze from the picture above the fireplace. But worse was safe. Worse was a shorter distance to drop if the earth ever fell out from under her again. She was already the face of the city's biggest new mystery: is Hawk Moth making a bold and violent comeback? If he'd akumatize a pregnant woman, what were his limits? Just wait until they all found out it was her heart that was truly on the line.

Nathalie stabbed her fork into some egg. Shut up, she told her brain. Her brain wouldn't listen.

At the end of the meal, Adrien excused himself to go study for an exam later in the week and asked Nathalie if she wanted the last croissant. She let him take it, and then wordlessly swirled the rest of her freshly-squeezed orange juice around in her glass as she was left alone with Gabriel in the dining room.

"What are your plans for the day?" she asked him.

"I hadn't made any plans. The last several days have been so chaotic, I'm trying to catch up, mentally and physically. I'm hoping I'll sleep like a rock tonight."

"Yes, I feel the same."

"But I am still high-strung over all that's happened, and I don't expect to calm down completely for a little while. Perhaps, I'll attempt to relax with a book. It's been a long time since I've read for leisure." He assessed her, setting his empty mug down on the table. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know." She pushed her plate away and curled her fists in her lap. "To be completely honest with you, Gabriel, I can't tell if I'm put off by all of your attention or if I prefer it to being alone. You don't seem inauthentic, but it's - it's a lot right now."

He nodded solemnly. "I understand. I just don't want things to be as they were before."

"And I appreciate that, I think." Nathalie's eyes drifted back to Emilie's face before she blinked hard and rubbed her face. "I might need some more closure."

"Closure? What do you mean?"

"More information. More insight into what exactly you were thinking. I guess I don't have a full picture of what happened between you and Amelie. To make you transform." He went rigid, startled by the sudden shift in her tone, hardening as her eyes did. "I mean, I thought she'd just come for the other ring. How did that end with you trying to akumatize…"

"I told you, she said I didn't deserve it, that I was a bad partner to Emilie."

"But she doesn't know you're Hawk Moth. What would an akumatization matter to her?"

Gabriel dropped his eyes.

"Are you not telling me the truth?"

"No, I am. I'm telling you the truth. I could never lie to you again, after everything. I guess it's just...difficult to explain. I'm not entirely sure what was going through my head, Nathalie. I don't think I was myself, but I'll try to give you a more thorough explanation." He pushed back his chair and stood up. "Could we talk in the atelier? I have some matters of my own I'd like to address as well, while we're at it."

"Yes, of course."

The first thing she noticed when she walked in behind him was that the room was severely lacking in gold. Nathalie stopped in her tracks, looking around the atelier as if to make sure it wasn't just some obvious poor replica, but everything else was exactly as she knew it to be. It was mad how one change could disorient one so thoroughly.

"The painting," she whispered.

A black velvet curtain had been pulled shut in front of Emilie's gleaming likeness. It was the first time Nathalie was seeing it covered since the woman had first fallen into her sleep. Gabriel kept it out of view for almost a week at the time, but since then, its presence had been as unchangeable as the man who admired it. The atelier looked so much darker now. So much blanker. Colder.

"Yes, I...I think I'm going to take it down," Gabriel said.

"What?"

"Once I can determine a different way to hide the lift mechanisms. For now, it's best to leave it covered."

"Do you think it bothers me?"

He blinked at her. "Doesn't it?"

"Well." To a certain extent, it always had. Even before Nathalie developed romantic feelings for her employer, the painting of his wife was off-putting at the very least. It was just elegant enough to avoid being tacky, but there was really no justifying the size of it. Nevertheless, she may have gotten so used to it over the years that the discomfort of having to look at it every day under her current circumstances failed to register with her. "I always understood that it had a practical use. Frankly, I've had bigger concerns. I won't stop you from removing it if you think that is what's best, but I certainly didn't expect you to."

"It should not remain. I am whole-heartedly devoted to you, Nathalie. It's inappropriate to have Emilie's pictures in my work or personal spaces."

"She is Adrien's mother."

"Which is why I won't be getting rid of any of the pictures in the common areas of the house."

"You've loved her for almost twenty years."

"Yes," he murmured grimly. "I've come to a few dramatic decisions over the course of the last day, but we'll get to those in a moment. For now, I will address your issues with me and Amelie."

Trying to ignore the hard pit in her stomach, Nathalie nodded. "Okay, go on. She was here for more than the ring, wasn't she?"

"Honestly, no. I don't believe so. The ring, I am sure, was her only genuine priority, but she used the situation - our situation - to justify a visit to the house so she could corner me."

"Corner you about…"

"About betraying her sister."

Gabriel clasped Nathalie's arm when she tensed up. "What did Amelie say?" she asked meekly.

"Nothing unbecoming of you."

"Are you only saying that to avoid upsetting me?"

"No, I mean it. Her harsh words were meant for me alone, but I had expected much worse. The reason I'd chosen not to inform you of all of her motives was because I didn't want you to worry about what she would say about you. You had already been through so much with HR, and there was no reason you should have had to agonize over Amelie's opinion as well."

"Okay," she whispered, eyes sinking to the floor. "So, she came for the ring and used the fact that you and I had been together as leverage. Hurtful words were exchanged about you being an unworthy spouse, and then...you decided to transform? Just like that? She left the room and you unleashed the akuma?" The man who stood before her now had been so warm and attentive all morning, to an extent he hadn't reached in the last several months, and Nathalie couldn't understand how he could have possibly made the choice he made without his hand being forced. One of these versions of him, she thought, must have been a fabrication.

"Not exactly," he answered. "It didn't go as smoothly as that."

"Gabriel, I'm putting together what happened between the two of you. It's your choice that I'm struggling with here. If I don't understand it, how can I be sure that it won't happen again?"

He gave her a pained look. "So much of that moment is a blur."

"Is there really nothing else you can tell me?"

A cool, haunting light flickered to life deep behind his gray irises. "There...there is something."

A very troubling something. Nathalie's spine turned to a rod of ice as he tried to explain, listening with bated breath to his description of the sentimonster he created after Amelie had left for lunch. The way it shifted forms alongside his state of mind, assuming the faces of the forces he was fighting with, digging deeper and deeper to the source of his emotion until it came rushing to the surface. He'd looked into Emilie's eyes burning with the sting of betrayal, heard her voice speaking his worst fears back to him. Nathalie made the mistake of trying to imagine what it would have looked like had she done what he'd done and materialized the deepest darkness within her. She invited all those loathsome, dangerous voices out from the corners of her mind, heard them whisper, and then shut them out. She'd go mad in a matter of seconds. She couldn't consider it.

"Gabriel," she uttered in a small, rough breath.

"It's no excuse. I don't intend for it to be taken as such," Gabriel told her, "But I was driven by emotion alone. Negative, destructive emotion. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't feeling any of the right things. I just wanted control of something Amelie had exploited, unwittingly to push me down a path I now deeply regret. All she wanted was the ring. If I'd only given it to her, none of this would have happened."

"Did you give it to her?" Nathalie's gaze darted to Gabriel's left hand, and her mouth fell open as she found it unadorned. "Gabriel-"

"No," I didn't. As I was seeing her off, she told me she wasn't going to ask for it again while you were in such a state. If there is one thing I don't despise that woman for, it's that she never overstepped a line with you."

"She'll reach out to you again, certainly."

"She said as much, but she won't have any luck. I don't plan on speaking to her from this moment forward."

"What have you done with the ring?"

Gabriel stepped behind his work station and drew back the curtain in front of Emilie's painting. Nathalie hardly had a moment to look it over before he pulled it away from the wall. "It's here."

"Will you simply keep it in the vault?"

"I suppose I should give it to Adrien. He'll only have the one, as I don't have any interest in getting the other one back as long as it requires me to communicate with Amelie. But I am sure he will be pleased to officially inherit something that belonged to his mother." He punched the code into the vault's keypad, releasing the door.

"You don't have to show me," Nathalie said. "I trust you that it's there."

"Actually, this is the opportunity for me to introduce the other matters of conversation I've had on my mind." Gabriel reached inside. Trying to look over his shoulder, Nathalie saw that the smaller photograph of Emilie he'd kept in the vault had already been removed. Then, he shut the door, replacing both the portrait and the curtain before he stepped before her again and held out his hand. "I want you to have these."

Nathalie's heart turned to lead and sank low.

"I've no reason to keep them anymore."

"Gabriel…" She picked the butterfly and the peacock miraculous out of his palm. "There is no reason for me to hold on to them either."

"I think you should. You still have reservations when it comes to trusting my commitment to you, and I completely understand that. I want to make it easier for you. Allow me to relinquish the tools I used to cause you harm, so you know I won't do it again. In fact, you could keep them some place I am not aware of if that makes you feel even more secure."

"Please, it's not starting us off on the right foot to hide things from each other," said Nathalie gravely.

"It's not hiding if I don't want to find them."

"I don't know about this."

"Keep them out of sight, out of mind. I'd get rid of them entirely if I could, but we can't risk them falling into the wrong hands."

"Yes," she sighed. "That's true."

His brow furrowed. "I hope you don't think I'm asking you to keep them because I wonder if I will be tempted by them again."

She was thinking that. Nathalie stared at him nervously.

A gentle hand curled her fist closed around the brooches. Gabriel's touch lingered on her knuckles, gray gaze softly flitting between her squinting eyes. "I'm not. I promise, I won't ever turn my back on you again. I want you to hold on to them for your own peace of mind, not mine." She must have still looked unconvinced, because he added, "If you really don't want to, that's okay. I can put them back in the vault."

"No, it's fine," she said, pocketing the brooches, hand slipping out from under his fingertips.

"Are you sure?"

Not entirely, but she figured they were safer with her than with him. She nodded, and made a mental note to herself to hide them in the inner pocket of a blazer that didn't fit anymore.

"Very well. And lastly," Gabriel took a deep breath, folding his hands behind his back to assume an air of cool stoicism; Nathalie did not anticipate the sentence that would come out of his mouth next, "Once the attention both regarding the baby and the reappearance of Hawk Moth has blown over, I'll be making arrangements to have Emilie's status...handled."

Nathalie lurched back a step. "What?"

"I don't know when exactly, but I'll be taking her off life support and giving her a proper burial." He tried, oh how he tried not to betray any emotion as he spoke, but the twitch in his lip, as slight as it was, struck Nathalie like a whip.

She shook her head. "No…"

"It's not fair to her to let her hang in the balance forever. I have no intention of bringing her back, so…" He paused for a pair of seconds, blinking hard, "So the most merciful thing I can do is put her at rest."

Nathalie stared dumbly at him. "So soon?"

"It's hardly soon. For months I let her lie there while I did nothing about it. It's taken me the better part of a year to realize I should have let her be at peace long ago."

"And you've just made this decision in the last several hours?"

Her incredulity was breaking down his barriers, and a blaze of emotion rippled across his face. "It's not an easy decision," he admitted, "But it is clearly the right one. I know you don't believe she should lie there in that tube for God knows how long."

"Well, I - I don't," murmured Nathalie. "Of course, I don't. It's just…" She glanced at the black curtain, felt the weight of the miraculous in her pocket, and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. This is all happening so quickly. Just yesterday you were going to bring her back, and now…"

"It seems drastic, I know. I suppose it is. But it was a long time coming. I was cruel enough to make her wait during my so-called break. I won't keep doing this to her."

Nathalie brought her fingertips up to her lips and peered soberly at him. "You've really made your choice, haven't you?"

Gabriel's stance broke. In a choked voice, he whispered, "Yes."

Still, Nathalie couldn't help but succumb to the guilt rising through her system. She cursed the atelier for not having many places to sit, and lowered herself down on one of the many sets of stairs in the room, breathing deeply.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel asked her.

Not that she thought this was something worth celebrating, but a part of her should have felt relieved that he was making all of these changes for her sake. With all of it crashing down at the same time, Nathalie was overwhelmed more than anything and terrified that she had forced him to do too much too fast. Surely, he hadn't had ample time to think this through; he was making choices he would regret in time and it was all because of her.

"Hey." He knelt down behind her, running a soothing hand up and down her back. "I'm sorry. I know this is a lot."

"What if you're not sure?" she asked him thickly.

"Nathalie." Despite the tenderness in his voice, she felt scolded, hunching forward to shrink herself. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I promise, I am sure about this. I wouldn't do it if I wasn't sure."

She curled her fingers around the hard edge of the step.

"This is all for the best, isn't it?" he asked.

How was she so paranoid? The first thought that sparked to life in her head was that he was trying to catch her saying the wrong thing, giving him a reason not to love her; yes, it's for the best that your wife dies. Nathalie grabbed her head and sank her fingernails into her scalp. Stupid woman. She didn't really believe he'd do that. He wanted to be with her. He told her forthright. Her own mind was working against her, and she wished she could claw it out of her skull.

"I only wanted to let you know," he went on when she didn't reply. He traced circles into her back with a gentle fingertip. "You don't have to worry about it. I'll take care of everything, alright?"

"I'm sorry," she rasped.

Louise had asked Nathalie during their first meeting if Gabriel was in the habit of making her feel guilty.

She'd answered firmly, "No," with a brisk shake of her head. "Of course not."

"I ask because, in spite of his lack of commitment to you and your child, you make a lot of excuses for his behavior," Louise had said.

"Do I?"

"You talk a lot about his grief for his wife, his busy work schedule, his difficult relationship with change, and you're not really assigning any blame to him when you do. You say, 'Gabriel has had trouble adapting, but he always has.' You say, 'Gabriel feels responsible for his wife and never acknowledge that as the father or your child, he also has a responsibility to you." Louise's brown eyes, so kind and yet so penetrating, darkened as she searched Nathalie's expression. "You're reluctant to speak poorly of him, even though he's the root issue you are bringing to me. I would appreciate your capacity for grace if I didn't worry you are afraid to say anything that could paint him in a negative light."

"I am not afraid."

"And when you two interact, possibly argue, he does not direct the blame for the situation on to you?"

"No."

Louise did not believe her. She pursed her lips and folded her hands beneath her chin.

"I don't want to force him into anything," Nathalie had admitted.

"Force him? How would you force him?"

"I want him to make his choice on his own."

"Does he ever suggest that you're pressuring him too much?"

"No."

"Nathalie," Louise said, sighing, "I want you to recognize that he has an obligation to support you. This baby didn't materialize on its own. He engaged in a four-month affair with you, and this was the result. Every day he isn't on your side, he is making a choice, a choice not to be there."

"It's not that simple."

On the other side of it, things didn't feel any simpler. Gabriel had told her, less than a day after he'd almost tried to bring Emilie back, that he was letting her go for good. Once and for all. Goodbye. At long last, he was making the choice to be there for Nathalie, and it felt just as she feared it would, like she'd made him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he was murmuring, his breath so close and so warm against her ear. She could have easily fallen back and let him absorb her in his touch. She missed his arms and his body heat and the way she believed in everything back when she was fooling herself.

Nathalie heard Louise's voice in her head, telling her, You didn't make him. He is fulfilling a responsibility to you. It's what you're owed, Nathalie.

She deserved this. She deserved him to be there for her, one hundred percent.

Something is wrong. It's a trick. It's temporary. It's a burden you placed on him.

Shut up.

"I'm going to go lie down." Nathalie slowly stood up again. "After what happened yesterday, I probably shouldn't be on my feet much anyway."

Gabriel nodded, his touch sliding off of her back. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I apologize for dropping so much on you so quickly."

"It's fine," she muttered.

"Rest well."

Nathalie lumbered out of the atelier. She didn't know what to do to make her brain cease droning in a chorus of all her worst fears. As she returned to her room and collapsed onto the bed, facing out into the gradually brightening day, she wished she could reach inside herself and cut all of the thoughts away. They rustled together. They screamed like wind-blown leaves. Nathalie would sever each and every branch that moved until it was all barren and empty and quiet. She'd destroy it all.

But that wasn't possible. Instead, she listened. She had no choice. The best she could do was think louder than the whirr of those voices, try to drown them out until her head was an ocean of noise.

I love you. I'm in love with you. I love you. I'm in love with you. I love you. I'm in love with you.

Nathalie covered her head with a pillow and whispered, "I know, I know, I know…"

Chapter Text

"And how did it go?"

Gabriel had taken the suggestion to sit instead of stand this time around, after being told that it might have been easier for him to keep his guard up while he was on his feet. But he wasn't used to this. Shifting in Nathalie's desk chair for perhaps the fifth time in as many minutes, he looked below the computer screen and deepened his stoic frown. It didn't help that he had something else on his mind. "As well as it could have gone, if you are asking whether everything was found to be progressing as it should."

"No, I mean -"

"I know what you mean," he sighed. "It was...strange."

"How so?"

"Unpleasant."

"Yeah?"

"She was anxious." Gabriel cracked his knuckles. "The perinatologist had to repeat questions, remind her to relax. I wondered if it was because of me. I even offered to step out if that would make her more comfortable, but she insisted she wanted me to stay. On the way home, she confessed she's always like that, which troubled me, of course. She shouldn't have to be that tense at every appointment."

"I see. So, this is something that was going on before the incident last weekend?"

Swallowing roughly, Gabriel dipped his head.

"You have expressed a lot of guilt regarding Nathalie, both over her near-akumatization as well as her suffering during the length of her pregnancy."

"And longer."

"And longer, yes. You've also said you feel responsible for her health issues last year. How does it make you feel that she still asked you to be in the examination room with her? Clearly, she wanted you to stay. She was taking some comfort in your presence despite her anxiety."

"I don't know," Gabriel grumbled. "She is shockingly selfless, even in her own times of need. I have a sense that she wanted me to stay for my own sake, since it was my first time at an appointment with her."

"If that's the case, then you know she wants you to have a relationship with this child."

"Yes…"

"And you have decided that you want a relationship with it as well."

"Yes."

"We will discuss Nathalie more in a minute," Dr. Richter said, stroking his beard. "I want to ask you first, how did accompanying Nathalie to her prenatal make you feel in regards to the baby?"

Gabriel was quiet for over a minute, and as always, Richter sat in perfect stillness waiting for his response. The most prominent memory sweeping through Gabriel's head of that appointment had nothing to do with the baby at all, but was the firm handshake of the perinatologist as she and Gabriel introduced themselves, and the hard look in her eyes deadening her smile of greeting. Surely, she had been wondering, Where on earth have you been? Dr. Travert's scrutiny over the next forty minutes had drilled a deeper impression into Gabriel than anything else, apart from Nathalie's constantly rigid and restless disposition. He'd hardly worried about the baby.

Finally, he told Richter, "I'm not sure."

A pause. "Is that all?"

"I think so."

"How about outside of the appointment? In your day-to-day, how have you noticed your attitude change?"

That was equally challenging to answer. For the last week and a half, Gabriel's attention had kept primarily on Nathalie above anyone: checking in on her when she got quiet, dissuading HR and journalists from contacting her, stressing over when to give her space and when to show her affection. The baby was always there on his mind, kicking and shifting around, but it never came before Nathalie.

Not to mention the issue weighing heavy in his heart, one that he couldn't quite tell Richter about, apart from the abstract idea that he was "letting his wife go," which wasn't abstract nor a mere idea at all, but crashing into him as colliding ocean waves.

So, he only said, "My feelings about it have improved. I'm still...processing what happened the other Saturday. It's hard to focus on anything else."

"That's understandable. If that is what's on your mind, perhaps we should continue discussing it."

For the rest of the session, they did, rehashing a lot of the same points as the previous week, but Gabriel admittedly found Richter's reminders helpful, especially in regards to how not to fall into the habit of punishing himself for the disaster. Gabriel didn't believe he deserved forgiveness yet, but his energy needed to be directed outward, to Nathalie, to their child, to Adrien, and…

After Richter wished him a good week and ended their call, Gabriel got to his feet, stretched out his restless limbs, and checked his phone. His unease deepend all at once, running a coarse chill up his spine and into his scalp. The last ten days of his life were reaching a daunting climax, now in the form of the voicemail that had been left in his phone that morning. His green light.

Gabriel had been told he'd be receiving word on how Emilie's death processes would be handled. Sure enough, there was André Bourgeois's unquestioning message, informing him that a member of local mairie would be quietly producing and filing an official death certificate for the price of silence Gabriel had offered. His family doctor, who had been aware of Emilie's health issues up until her disappearance and kept mildly under the impression that she wasn't truly dead or disappeared, was paid just as handsomely to issue a medical report claiming a chronic respiratory illness as the cause of death. The rest was for Gabriel to take care of, and most of that had involved the digging of a grave in the repository beneath the house over the course of a full week. He'd been sore for days. Nathalie, he was certain, had noticed, but she never said a word on it. She knew what this was about. Gabriel would not trouble her with the details.

The hardest part would be over with sometime in the next few minutes, as long as Gabriel didn't allow himself to sit too long with his thoughts. Already, standing there in the corner of the atelier, he could feel the air around him thickening, the world coming to a dangerous halt, and he needed to escape before he'd be paralyzed into inaction. Gabriel stalked across the room, brushed aside the velvet curtain to reach the lift mechanisms, and dropped through the floor down into the darkness of underground.

What if you're not sure?

Nathalie's question had been stuck in his head since the moment she asked it. It wasn't because he didn't know the answer, but because he could still hear the pain in her voice all these days later, the doubt and the trembling fear, and was reminded again and again of how being so unsure for so long had caused incomprehensible hurt. For Nathalie. For himself. For the woman he'd let wander in the space between life and death, waiting for a path to clear. If he wasn't sure, then he must've been content to hurt them for as long as he lived, just to avoid the dull, gaping agony of a pain he alone could feel.

His walk from the lift to the garden was slow, but it was steady, and once he'd reached the capsule and Emilie inside it, perfectly placid, perfectly unaware, the hollow pang through his chest was not

enough to make him want to prolong this moment. He was alone. Not long ago, he could have never imagined that he'd do something like this unaccompanied. Ideally, Nathalie would have been here too; she would not have been so overwhelmed by her own burdens, not too injured to trust his permanence of choice. And somehow, by some miracle, Adrien too would be present. He'd understand. Or he wouldn't ask any questions at all. Gabriel wasn't sure which version of this alternate universe was less probable, nor was it important, but in the empty spaces on either side of him, these questions emerged, taking the form of phantoms of the living unable to fill the solitude of his grief.

He stared for a moment at Emilie's face, wishing to see past her eyelids into that vibrant gaze of hers, and then he took a deep breath.

"I know you can't hear me." His fingers hovered just above the switch that would end her life for good. "But I think I owe it to you to say I'm sorry. For too many things to name."

Making a promise he couldn't keep, failing countless times, hurting countless people, going astray, letting her wait, that it had to end this way….A rain of thought passed suddenly through, and Gabriel shivered as if he could feel it pelting across his skin.

"I'll cherish our seventeen years together before this all went wrong. I did what I could. It wasn't enough." The words spilled out of him. Gabriel didn't want this to last. The previous week and half dangled from his neck, constricting his throat, forcing tears to his eyes. Every step of this process, each discreet phone call, each plow of the shovel had added another chain to the anchor dragging him down. "In another life, none of this would have happened. Somehow, we would've…"

His voice broke. His head along with it, overcome by the torrent of parting thoughts he couldn't sort through fast enough to put to words. Gabriel's fingers curled around the switch. A tear soaked into the cuff of his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he wept. "I'm sorry, Emilie. I...oh, God."

He crumbled. He couldn't speak. It was all happening faster than he could process, but the words disintegrating on his tongue had gone stale long ago. None of it felt real anymore.

Goodbye.

His eyes pressed shut, and he pulled the switch. A dying whirr hissed and echoed through the towering room until the silence slammed in and buckled his knees.

He wasn't quite sure how long he knelt there.

But he didn't look at Emilie once.

Filling the grave with his numb heart and his aching body, Gabriel missed Adrien coming home for lunch. Later in the afternoon, following some phone calls to those involved, a long, brisk shower and a change of his dirt-caked clothes, he stood in the atrium waiting for his son's return. Adrien didn't expect to find him there, but even less was he prepared for Gabriel, without saying a word, to step towards him as soon as he walked through the door and pull him into a hug as tight as his sore muscles would allow.

"What's wrong?" Adrien grunted, face squished into his father's chest.

"Nothing," muttered Gabriel.

"Did something happen?"

"No."

"Then what's this for?"

"Everything."

"Father…"

Gabriel took his son's shoulders and stepped away to get a good look at him, He'd never seen Emilie so clearly before. She shone in Adrien's astonished green eyes, radiant and ghostly. "Thank you. For being there for Nathalie when I couldn't be."

"I know you're trying now, Father. That means a lot."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"It's not. You don't know the half of it." Gabriel wished he could have given his son the send off of his mother they both deserved, but all he could do was watch him climb the stairs up to his room, bewildered by this uncharacteristic display of paternal affection and believing it was utterly spontaneous. Truly, if Adrien did know even just the half of it, Gabriel was certain that nothing between them would be the same. Could he even claim the same name with such a thoroughly altered life?

The worst part about it all was that it wasn't over yet. Throughout the rest of the week, Gabriel slowly worked his way through the overwhelming task of managing Emilie's belongings. Some of it was easy. All of her makeup was old anyway and he was rather eager to toss it once he'd actually bothered to open her bathroom drawers. Her family photos were packed in a box in the closet that he planned to give to Adrien at some point, perhaps around his birthday so it didn't feel like it was coming out of nowhere.

But everything else would take days to go through. He spent a whole morning with Emilie's romance novel collection and her various records and CDs, selecting only a number of items worth keeping based on artistic merit alone. He picked his way through about a quarter of her closet every day for four days, attempting to juggle work on top of it while managing to devote time to Nathalie and keeping her an arm's length from his grief. She knew what he was up to whenever he was absent from the atelier, but he tried not to let her see him at work with it. As much as possible, he wanted to keep her mind off of the situation.

It wasn't easy. The sorting and the throwing away and the pausing to remember when he gifted Emilie this diamond necklace or that was exhausting, and Gabriel was almost always dead-eyed by dinner each night of the week. On Sunday, he could barely keep his eyes open. Nathalie reached across the table to nudge his hand, shaking him to alertness.

"Are you okay?" she murmured softly.

"Fine." He grabbed his glass and took a large gulp of water. For the remainder of the meal, he held himself straighter, asked Adrien more questions about his day, tried consciously to appear more awake and less like the folds in his brain had come undone. To Nathalie, it might not have been a very convincing performance, but it took everything out of him, and afterward, when he trudged up to his room, he collapsed beside the piles of clothes and boxes of shoes on his bed and slept until midnight. Then, he kept sorting.

Late Monday morning, he was carrying a significant haul of Emilie's things down the stairs for Adrien's bodyguard to take to a donation center when Nathalie caught him on the way out of the bathroom. When he spotted her, the large bag of clothes in his arms fumbled down the remaining steps. Luckily, he'd already tied it shut.

Nathalie held herself stiffly, but her voice was level as she asked, "Do you need help?"

"If you could open the door for me," he said, struggling to gather the giant bag off the floor, "that would be appreciated."

She did so, and once outside, the bodyguard met Gabriel halfway up the front steps to far-more effortlessly transfer the clothes to the trunk of the car. He'd already packed in a bin of heeled shoes and jewelry, and when Nathalie caught a glimpse of how full the back of the car was, her eyes went wide.

G. drove off, and Gabriel stepped back inside, wiping the sweat that had formed on his brow. He shut the door and asked Nathalie, "I thought you were meeting with Louise right now. What time is it?"

"Almost 11. She had a dentist appointment this morning and pushed back our session by a couple hours. I told you this."

"Oh, you did." Gabriel remembered. He leaned back against the door and folded his arms. "Sorry, I…"

"I know, you've had a lot going on." Nathalie bit her cheek. "Why, were you hoping to miss me?"

"No." He paused. "Yes. It's been a lot of work. I didn't want to worry you with it."

"I would have helped you. You could have asked."

"It's alright."

"I can't imagine going through it all alone."

"I'm managing."

Nathalie studied him, and he studied her back, noting the chewed-on fingernails and the dark crescents beneath her eyes.

"How are you?"

They asked each other in unison, and then Gabriel gestured at her, "You first."

"You ask me all the time," she muttered, "You know."

"I guess, I mean about all of this."

It was the first time he was asking her to address it, after over two weeks since he'd brought the situation up for the first time. Nathalie sighed and ran a hand down her midsection. "I-I don't know. It feels strange, all of it. On the one hand, I blinked and then everything was different, but so much of what is different is stuff I can't really see. How...how far along are you in, I suppose, taking care of things?"

"Almost everything I have no intention of keeping or giving to Adrien has already been removed from the house," he answered. "There are some things, namely Gabriel brand items that had been gifts to her, that I'm planning on storing. I still have to organize a lot of that."

"You don't have to do it all at once," she told him. "You've been at this for days."

"I want to finish."

"You shouldn't rush."

"Nathalie," he murmured gently, gazing at her with the slightest exasperated smile, "I assure you, I'm not jumping the gun."

She took his hand when he held it out to her. Gabriel drew his thumb up and down each of her fingers, trying to help her release some of the tension in her body. She held her shoulders high, clenched her jaw, kept her legs straight as matchsticks. After a moment, Nathalie whispered, "It must be hard."

"I'm doing okay, I promise."

"You seem so exhausted."

"It'll be over soon."

She said, "I haven't really told you that I'm sorry."

"Again." His other hand reached up to trail a knuckle softly down her cheek. "You don't have to apologize for anything."

"I just mean for your loss."

Six days ago, she'd been there in the atelier to watch him rise up from beneath the house, hands and clothes blackened by dirt, sweat glistening across every inch of his flushed countenance, with lethargic movements carrying him from the lift to the door. She'd said his name and nothing else in a voice that hovered at the front of her mouth, quiet but clear. But Gabriel did not want to talk, and she saw that. She let him go. And now was the time, maybe the only time with the only person who knew exactly what he'd done, that he would hear that expression of sympathy.

He squeezed her hand. "Thank you. I appreciate that. I wish it could have happened differently."

She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I just thought I'd have more to say. To Emilie, I mean." His eyes dropped to the floor. "I just needed it to be over. The goodbye wasn't what I thought it'd be. I admit, it does all feel sudden, even if it was a long time coming, even though it had to happen. It was like...needing to come up for air before you'd reached the bottom."

Expressing it aloud, Gabriel sensed the slightest relief of his heart from beneath the weight of his isolated sorrows. Nathalie was the person he trusted more than anyone - more than Adrien, more than Richter - to understand how this felt to him, and what he needed as a result. But he checked himself. As he glanced back up, he caught the light of fear in her eyes. His own troubles sank right back into place, concern for her bowling them over, flattening them to take form later on.

"But it's almost finished," he said quickly. "I think I can get everything dealt with in the next two days if I focus. And then it'll all be behind us."

Nathalie slipped her hand out of his grip. "Don't put it like that…" she muttered. "So trivially."

"It will all work out," he said instead.

After she allowed him to plant a light kiss on her cheek, Nathalie returned to the atelier to get some work done before Louise's arrival. Gabriel joined her not long after, once he'd fixed up his disheveled room, returning sparse items of clothing to the closet to be taken care of the next day. The space was so much emptier now, Gabriel could hardly believe it was the same closet. It'd been years since he'd seen so many unused hangers and vacant shelves.

He ran a vacuum through and then closed the door.

A few seconds elapsed before he'd registered the wash of silver across his vision. Gabriel faced the windows. His mind limped out of the darkness of sleep, coaxed at first by the moonlight, and then by the low rumbling near his head.

What…?

Lifting his head off the pillows, Gabriel felt for his vibrating phone. It was face down on the nightstand, and as soon as he picked it up, the screen shone bright enough to make him shut his eyes again. The vibrating stopped.

He reached for the lamp and let his sight adjust. It was two in the morning, and to Gabriel's dismay, he had three text messages on top of that call he'd missed, all from Nathalie.

Gabriel?

Are you awake?

Please wake up.

By the time he'd read them all, a frightened chill spreading across his chill, the phone started to vibrate again. He didn't hesitate answering this time.

"Nathalie?"

"Gabriel?" she gasped.

"What's the matter?" He threw away the covers, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

She started stammering. He didn't know what she was trying to say. In between strings of word fragments, her breathing was labored.

"You're in your room, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she managed to reply, one clear syllable between the rest. There was a long pause on her end before she added, slowly and between panting breaths, "I-I didn't want to wake you, but I've been sitting up for hours, a-and I don't think I can-" Another pause "-be alone until morning."

"I'm coming."

"Don't hang up."

"I won't." He'd already left his own room behind. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I think so."

He made his way around the uppermost floor of the house, eager to be at her side. They hadn't started sleeping together again. Nathalie didn't seem like she was ready for the intimacy of that arrangement after all their months apart, but each night, Gabriel had fallen asleep wishing he could feel the warmth of her body at his side. He murmured, "I'm almost there. What do you want me to do?"

"Bring me my water," she answered. "I left it across the room."

He disconnected right as he opened the door, and found her sitting upright in her bed, clutching her phone to her ear with white-knuckled fingers and watching him with big, dazed eyes while he entered. Gabriel grabbed the half-full water bottle off of her dresser and handed it over. She exchanged it for her phone, which he placed by the lamp exposing her blanched skin. Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'll stay with you," he murmured, once she'd gulped down most of what was left of the water, "for as long as you want me to."

She screwed the bottle shut and dropped it on the bed. Her hand shook. Her thumbnail had been bitten down so far, it bled.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gabriel asked.

Her mouth dropped open to reply, but nothing more than a ragged breath escaped.

"You can just shake your head yes or no." He spoke slowly, softly, inching his hand slowly towards her own. "Is it me?"

Deep breath. No.

"Is it Emilie?"

She winced. But still, she shook her head. No.

"The baby?"

"It's me," Nathalie croaked, finally glancing at him. She was sweating. "I worked myself up. I can't shut my brain off and then I drive myself into a panic."

He brushed her hand, and when she did not react, he slipped his fingers between hers. "Have you talked to Louise about it?"

"She helps in the moment. I thought I'd be fine for the rest of the day, but then." She motioned to the rest of the room. "I get to be alone and all my same, stupid thoughts crash right back in."

"Nathalie, I am sure you're not being stupid."

"Yes, I am. I never let myself win." She raised her fingers back up to her teeth, bit down on the bleeding thumb, and then switched to her pinkie. Gabriel reached for that hand as well. As he lowered it from her face, she went on, "I know. I know, rationally, that everything that's happening right now, everything you're going through, is normal. I know. But when you insist that you're fine when I can see you're not, I worry you're shutting me out, even though you're just protecting me. But-but when I watch you grieve-" She broke off to take a breath "-I just feel scared that you'll eventually regret what you're doing, and you'll wish you never got rid of that dress, then you'll wish you never got rid of the portrait, then you'll wish you never buried her-"

"Slow down," Gabriel urged her, pressing her hands. "Breathe."

"It's not fair," she heaved. "It's not fair to you. It's not fair to me. I keep losing this war against my own mind, and I don't know what to do-"

Her words broke off into a fit of coughing. He knew it was because she'd overworked herself talking, but hearing it, Gabriel's head flung him back into time, when that sound would spike his heart rate, draw him at once to her side. He wrapped his arms around her, wary of making her feel suffocated, but Nathalie unwound into his hold quickly. He pressed her head to his shoulder as she caught her breath.

"What could I tell you right now," he murmured into her ear, "That would put you at ease?"

"I don't know," she whispered hoarsely.

One hand slipped around her belly. The baby moved. As if saying hello.

"I'm going to always be here," Gabriel told her. "You need anything, I will come running."

"I'd rather you never leave," she breathed.

"Then I won't leave. I'll stay here. I'll stay all night and every night. And if you think your mind is ever getting the best of you, grab my hand."

Her touch fell above his own and shifted it lower.

Gabriel kissed the side of her head. "You will be okay," he murmured. "I know you will be. I have seen you survive things I can hardly imagine."

At this, she chuckled humorlessly.

"I mean it. I'm sorry I never told you before, how astounded I have been by you since all of this began. To have stood by my side through everything, when I was at my worst, at my least...forgivable," he whispered, holding her tighter, "you must be the strongest person in this city. You know there is nothing I could have done without you."

"Gabriel," she said, breath against his collarbone.

"You have endured so much, with selflessness and courage I can only envy. And greatly admire. It makes sense," he added, with an attempt at light-heartedness, "that you would be your own worst enemy. You're the only person strong enough to stand against you."

"You're so full of it." He heard the smallest smile in her voice.

"I'm not wrong, you know it too."

"Will you really stay?" she asked him, guiding his hand to stroke her midsection.

He promised, "Always."

Gabriel held her for a few more minutes. Nathalie's breathing evened out as her panic gradually ebbed, and she asked for her water bottle to be refilled. Gabriel released her to meet her request, and upon his return, he found an extra pillow on the left side of the bed, ready for him to sleep there just as he'd used to.

He climbed in beside her. Nathalie lied on her side, facing him, holding out a hand for him to take.

"You know," he mumbled, once he'd turned off the light, "we could probably move to my room starting tomorrow. Make it ours. Would you like that?"

She shut her eyes and nodded. "Yes."

"I believe in you, my dear."

"I know."

"I'll be here through it all."

She lifted her head onto his pillows and touched her forehead to his own. "I feel you," she whispered.

Gabriel stayed awake until he knew she was finally asleep. Through the dark, he watched a long-awaited peace settle across her tense features as she drifted off. Then, he sighed himself into a dreamless sleep, the first in months he shared with her. The deepest he'd had in a long time.

Chapter Text

"I think it's finished."

Glancing up from her book, Nathalie raised an eyebrow at Adrien in the doorway. An eager shimmer brightened his eyes as he gestured at her to follow him. "Are you sure about that?" she questioned, cocking her head. "Last night you claimed it was ready and then stopped me at the door because you had to 'rearrange some things to make it perfect.'"

"No, I mean it this time. I even triple-checked and everything."

"Is your Father coming?"

"Yep, I just told him. He really likes it too, by the way." Adrien stepped into the room and helped Nathalie to her feet once she'd marked the page in her book.

"I would hope so. He was fretting as much as you were. You do know I have overheard at least a few of your arguments about paint and accent colors, right?"

"I think you would be impressed with the number of times he's shouted, 'And that is final!' only for it to, in fact, not be final," chuckled Adrien as they walked out of the room. "Turns out I might have an eye for interior design, but I don't know if he'll admit that considering how much I've hurt his pride by swaying him."

"There he is," Nathalie said, catching Gabriel on his way up the stairs. He smiled as he met her eyes, and meeting her and Adrien by the closed door of the newly renovated nursery, he took her hand.

"I've been looking forward to this," he told her, with a kiss on her knuckles.

"I cannot believe you would not let me in on any of the progress because of 'paint fumes,'" she quipped.

"Might as well have taken the opportunity to give you a bit of a surprise," he replied.

"I don't tend to enjoy surprises."

"You will enjoy this one. Adrien?" Gabriel prompted.

With a beaming grin, Adrien turned the door handle and unveiled his and his father's three-week long project. Gabriel nudged Nathalie inside to take a closer look, and at once, she was astonished by how much the room had transformed since she was last allowed to look at it.

Previously, it had been one of the house's two smaller guest bedrooms, which, due to the house being a mansion, was hardly very small at all, but at least a suitable size to have been renovated into a nursery. Black and white decor in correspondence to the style of the rest of the house used to occupy the room, but everything Nathalie remembered being here had been wiped away. Gone was the icy white color of the walls and the dark, soulless modern furniture, a bed with sheets so crisp that they looked as though they'd shatter under one's touch. Nathalie could not believe she was looking at the same room.

Adrien and Gabriel had decided on mint for the paint color, a soft shade that read as whimsical without feeling too childish. The crib had been purchased white, but Adrien had decided to hand-paint every other bar light gray; why, Nathalie had no idea, but she liked the effect. It was positioned between the room's two large windows, which had been opened to show off the gentle sway of the ocean-blue curtains in the summer's breeze.

A comfortable-looking armchair sat in one corner of the room, displaying a pair of decorative pillows, one the same color as the curtains, the other striped white and coral. Those colors appeared elsewhere in the room as well, such as in the neat pile of swaddling blankets on the changing table, and the lampshades, and the knobs on the dresser. Nathalie pulled open a drawer and gazed at all of the baby clothes perfectly folded as if on display. She hadn't known they'd acquired so much. Most of these must have been purchased without her knowledge. She ran her hand across a row of onesies.

"What do you think, Nathalie?" she heard Adrien ask her.

"I love it," she murmured.

"Really, you do?"

"It's wonderful." She closed the drawer and swept her eyes across the nursery once more. In the center of the room, a circular blue and white rug fanned irregular stripes out towards the crib. Against one wall, she found a brand new wooden desk and gray leather chair, sitting under a calendar flipped to July and with the 22nd outlined in a big red star. "You do know the baby might not even come on its due date, right?"

"I know, I just thought it'd be fun to mark it anyway," Adrien laughed.

Nathalie asked, "What's the desk for?"

"For you!"

"Me?"

"Father has said it's been a challenge to convince you to slow down, since you love to work so much, and I thought why not put a desk in here so you can work around the baby?"

"But only after you've taken at least six weeks off, Nathalie. Preferably eight to ten. Or more," Gabriel said.

"Yes, I know. We've gone over it plenty," she replied with an exasperated smile. She straightened out his lapel and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Truly, it's perfect. All of it. You two put so much work into this. I'm floored."

Adrien put a hand on his chin. "Well, it's still technically unfinished. Marinette is knitting a blanket to also go on the chair, and we left some space for photos. Oh, and I was thinking, once the baby is born, we can put his name on the wall with some wooden letters, but Father and I can't agree on where."

"His name?" Nathalie repeated, blinking at him.

"Adrien thinks it's going to be a boy," Gabriel explained.

She put her hands on her hips. "I thought you said you didn't care either way."

"I don't! But that's just my prediction. What can I say, I've got a gut feeling. I guessed the gender of Mrs. Bustier's baby correctly!"

"How about you?" Nathalie prompted Gabriel. "Do you have a guess now that we're getting down to the wire?"

"No guess."

"I think Father wants a girl," Adrien said, nudging Nathalie.

"I've never said that."

"You think it. I can tell. He kept pushing for more feminine decor," his son told Nathalie. She snickered, and then Adrien's mischievous expression softened. "You really love it?"

"I really do. I'm so impressed with you for having done this, and so touched." Nathalie hugged both Agreste men. "Thank you. This takes an item off my long list of worries."

"Anything we can do to help," said Adrien as they pulled away.

"Speaking of names, maybe now would be a good time to talk about some. I've been thinking." Nathalie took a seat in the armchair, which was just as comfortable as it looked, and pulled out her phone.

Adrien gave an excited clap. "Oh, yes! What have you got?"

Quietly, Gabriel rolled out the desk chair and sat down. He and Nathalie had had brief exchanges about names before. Often out of the blue. In the middle of brushing her teeth, she would say a name aloud and gauge his reaction. At breakfast, he would stare into his coffee mug and suggest one as if to empty air. They dismissed most. They were picky. A lot of couples had family names to choose from or use as a starting place; Nathalie and Gabriel didn't have family members worth honoring. They only had what came off of the top of their heads.

"Since you're convinced the baby will be a boy, let's start there, huh?" Nathalie said as she opened up the short list on her phone. "Benjamin, Matthias, Florence - I suppose that one could be for a girl too, but I like it as a boy's name - and Vincent. Have a favorite?"

"Vincent, for sure. I love that name," Adrien said. "But the rest are nice too. Father, what do you think?"

"I suggested Matthias. I think it remains my favorite, although I also like Vincent." Gabriel leaned forward, folding his hands. "Perhaps this sounds strange, but I don't care for Benjamin, only because I feel it ends too similarly to 'Adrien'. Adrien. Benjamin. That last syllable irks me."

"Okay, I understand that. I'll take that one off." Nathalie deleted the name. "Now, for girls: Edmée, Iris, Violette, and Sybille."

"Oh, wow. I like all of those." Adrien repeated them aloud under his breath, getting a feel for their sound.

"Sybille is interesting. You haven't told me about that one," Gabriel remarked.

"I thought of it this morning. It's kind of cute and ironic, don't you think? Since no one could see this baby coming."

Gabriel snorted.

"Yeah, that one is super cool! But I also love Violette and Iris…" Adrien brushed back his golden hair and exhaled deeply. "Gosh, this is impossible. I don't envy the choice you have to make."

"Maybe that story Amelie told about her friend who looked at her baby and 'just knew' was not truly a cautionary tale," Nathalie muttered.

Across from her, Gabriel's eyes dropped from her face to the floor, his jaw clenching.

"Only because," she went on quickly, "I don't know how I can possibly make a decision simply by thinking it over. It might have to just come to me." Nathalie glanced around the room, and then said, "By the way, if we do end up putting the name on the wall, I think it should go above the crib."

Adrien threw out his hands, "That's what I said!"

"No," Gabriel snapped. "The letters could fall."

"Oh, please, not if they're screwed into the wall," said Nathalie.

"It's not worth the risk."

"Risk. And the ceiling could cave in one day, right?" Adrien scoffed.

"We don't have to hang letters," Nathalie suggested. "We could paint the name on."

"Ah, see? Problem-solving." Adrien elbowed his father, who merely glared back at him and shrugged. "Don't get grumpy, now."

"I'm not grumpy." Gabriel rose to his feet. "Frankly, I'm just not crazy about displaying the name at all."

"You seem a little on edge, love," Nathalie murmured, clasping his wrist.

"I'm fine. It's a happy day." The hardness in his eyes thawed out as he gazed down at her. "I'm so pleased you like the room, Nathalie."

"Lord knows I wouldn't have even known where to begin. I'm thankful that the two of you took it on. Here, help me up?" Gabriel pulled her off of the chair and then fluffed up the pillows she had sat against. Nathalie was just now looking up at the ceiling. "Are those glow-in-the-dark stars?"

"Yep!" Adrien beamed.

"Quite unnecessary, if you ask me. They don't even go with the theme of the room," Gabriel grumbled.

"Who cares? They're neat."

She spent a couple more minutes fawning over the details of the renovation before Adrien had to leave to get ready for his fencing lesson that afternoon. Gabriel and Nathalie remained, and she stood over the dresser for a while, picking through all of the clothes. The drawers were even fuller than she initially thought.

"When did you find the time to buy all of this? I only recognize a couple of these onesies," she said.

"I guess Adrien and his friends did a lot of shopping. Perhaps, it's a little overkill, but there's some stuff in there fit for a toddler. I don't think we'll have to worry about clothes for a while."

"It's overwhelming." She watched an eyebrow of his twitch in the mirror above the dresser, the smallest sign of worry, and she smiled. "In a good way," she clarified.

He relaxed and stepped forward to hug her from behind. His hands spread across her swollen belly as he left a long kiss on the side of her head. "I'm glad to hear it," he rasped, guiding her to gently sway back and forth from foot to foot.

In the nearly two months since they started sleeping together again, Gabriel had become a fountain of affection, pouring out tenderness and warmth in every single moment he got alone with her, which was most. As the pregnancy progressed, and Nathalie grew larger and wearier, he became all the more loving. Sometimes it felt like a lot. Sometimes she gravely needed it.

With the baby due in a little under three weeks, Nathalie finally understood what pregnant women mean when they say they "feel like a whale." She used to roll her eyes at such hyperbole. Now, she gawked at her own body, hardly believing it to be human. When her belly reached her destination before the rest of her, she grieved her formerly lithe build; when she walked...anywhere, she resented the waddle in her hips. She grew fatigued when standing on her feet for very long, and achy when she sat. Her legs cramped, her stomach itched, her back could find no relief, and the baby loved to wiggle around when she was trying to sleep.

But yesterday, when Nathalie was about to shower, with hair she hadn't washed in a week and visible stretch marks across her lower belly, she caught Gabriel staring at her from where he stood shaving at the sink.

"What?" she asked him.

"Nothing." His eyes flicked back to his own reflection and he ran the razor down his chin. "You're just beautiful."

She wouldn't have believed him had she not been able to see the adoring expression on his face so clearly in the mirror. In the shower, Nathalie cried quietly to herself. She hadn't known how terribly she needed to hear it.

Moments such as that one were cherished by Nathalie, who had spent the last two months of her life recovering from the tumultuous six that came before. Some days were a lot easier on her than others: her doubts mere whispers at the back of her head, ignorable amidst the business of daily life, silenced altogether by the profound love in each of Gabriel's kisses, no matter how soft or how fervent. But those more challenging days were long, bleary streaks in time. Smudges in her memory. An hour or two would be completely consumed by paranoid fantasy. Nathalie knew she was being foolish. She rationalized with all the evidence she could name, a hundred examples of Gabriel's earnest devotion, but for whatever reason, on these days, it wasn't enough to ease her mind. The guilt killed her when she came to her senses, pulled out of the dark cloud by some sudden shift in the day's atmosphere, or a spot of restful sleep, or, if it happened to be a Monday, by Louise. She was especially concerned, now that the baby's due date loomed close, about giving Nathalie the tools to manage these episodes, as well as postpartum depression symptoms, which she was at risk for.

Louise was also very impressed, if noticeably skeptical of the complete and sudden turn Gabriel had made regarding Nathalie and the baby. She tried to demonstrate good faith to her client, who she knew for her own sake needed to be reassured on occasion that Gabriel was fully dedicated. Nathalie hoped that during the couple meetings for which Gabriel had joined them to learn more about the symptoms and treatments for postpartum depression, he had made a good impression on Louise. After all, he'd asked a lot of questions, showed a lot of concern. Surely, Louise could see how different he was now.

Nathalie folded the piece of clothing in her hands, a tiny red sweater she could already see her baby wearing come next Christmas. She dropped it back in the drawer and turned her head to kiss Gabriel on the mouth.

"Are you busy the rest of the day?" she murmured against his lips.

"Adrien called me up in the middle of a design sketch. I need to finish that, and then I should send a few emails, but otherwise, no. Why, do you have something planned?" he asked, moving one hand from her belly to her face.

"No. I just want to spend time with you. I've just begun maternity leave and I already feel bored out of my mind."

"I'll get my work done soon, and then I'm all yours, my dear." Gabriel stroked her cheekbone. "Maybe I can tell Adrien that after his fencing lesson, he's allowed to spend time with his friends so we can have the house to ourselves longer."

"Who are you?" she asked, a playful growl rumbling from deep in her throat.

"A man deeply in love with his…" Gabriel's narrow, fiery stare cooled for a moment as the response slipped out from under him.

Nathalie's heart skipped.

"With his...partner," he said.

She turned out of his arms. "What were you going to say?"

"Nathalie…"

"Were you about to call me your…?" Even she could not form the word, though the thought of it hung in her mind like a light. "You know."

Gabriel glanced down, reaching for her hands. "One day," he murmured. His thumb stroked her left ring finger.

Nathalie did want to marry him. Of course, she did. But her head had been occupied with many other daunting thoughts as of late, and the likelihood of this prospect dawned on her so suddenly, it was blinding. She looked away from his face for a moment, back at the crib, and the empty space on the wall above, where they might paint its name. It didn't help her nerves that a part of her believed - as silly as it was, just like every other nonsensical misconception she'd convinced herself of - that she hadn't earned it to marry Gabriel while she was still susceptible to so much doubt.

She exhaled a high-pitched breath. "Go on," she said, "Finish up your work. I'll see you in a little bit."

Back in her bedroom, Nathalie returned to the book she'd been reading, a German translation of À la recherche du temps perdu, one of her favorites. She worried that her grasp on foreign languages had grown rusty over the last couple years, dedicating so much focus to the miraculous. From a young age, Nathalie had identified as an intellectual. So many of her previous interests had been brushed aside in favor of the demands of the miraculous, and even when that was over, life had swung in an even more frightful direction. There wasn't much time to grasp for it back before the baby was born, but Nathalie would take what she could get. She'd made it through the first two volumes of the book already, and even though her reading of German had slowed since she was last in practice, the more she pushed, the quicker she got.

She reclined on the sofa. Since she'd moved into Gabriel's room, this had been her favorite place to relax, facing the window out into the summer afternoon and resting her feet on a feather-stuffed pillow. The season had been brutal so far, thick and humid, and Nathalie always kept a fan running on top of the cranked AC. Gabriel didn't mind. He wanted what was comfortable for her.

Her clothes hung in the closet. By the time she had permanently moved to this room, there were still some of Emilie's belongings that needed to be stored or donated, and future gifts to Adrien were now being kept in the bedroom Nathalie had left behind. She'd brought in some of her stuff. There was space in Gabriel's bookshelves for plenty of her favorite novels and anthologies, and they'd replaced a couple rugs. On the mantle, where there had once been wedding photos of Gabriel and Emilie, there was now an antique globe, a third of her paperweight collection, and a decorative birdhouse, the only item from her childhood home Nathalie still possessed. The wedding pictures would go to Adrien along with all the photo albums Emilie had kept from her youth.

Nathalie had also finally removed what remained of her stuff from her old apartment and terminated her lease, which she would have utterly forgotten about had Louise not reminded her the place still existed. Before her relationship with Gabriel had improved, that apartment was the one thing in the outside world she had to escape to if needed, and Louise had encouraged her to hold onto it until she knew for sure she was safe. Letting it go had been a nerve-wracking but liberating decision. It was the first time she sat back, looked at the roof above her head, and thought of it truly as home.

A hospital bag sat packed in a chair across from the sofa. Every time Nathalie felt her abdomen tighten with a weak contraction, which was beginning to happen just a little more frequently these days, she double-checked it. So much preparation had occurred only in the last two or three weeks, when Nathalie finally seemed to process how quickly the fateful day was approaching. Her doctor had asked what seemed like a thousand questions when they discussed her birth plan, and Nathalie had barely been able to answer more than a couple. She had to pull herself together. A baby was coming. The weight of that reality pressed down harder than it ever had before, compelling her to act at last. She was ready. In a check-list sort of way, anyhow (actually, she couldn't remember if they'd installed the carseat).

Nathalie read for about an hour before she started to lose focus. Heavy eyelids blinked slowly, begging to stay closed. She wanted to get through a few more pages, but her vision was growing dark, her mind drifting away and losing the words…

Something was resting on her forehead. Nathalie shifted. A weight slipped away from her, and she was stirred to alertness at once by a loud clatter below. Her book had fallen on the floor. From behind, a hand reached to retrieve it and set it on the coffee table beside an empty mug that had been there since the morning.

"Wait, my page," Nathalie said, words slurring with sleep. "What page was I on?"

"316," Gabriel answered. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead again.

"What time is it?"

"A little before four."

Nathalie sat up and swung her feet onto the floor so Gabriel had the space to sit beside her. She quickly marked her book a few pages back from where she'd fallen asleep, and then leaned against his shoulder, trying to fight the clinging grogginess. His rhythmic breath didn't help her. Damn, he was comfortable.

"Work done?" she mumbled, hoping that conversation would keep her awake.

"Eh, mostly. I never ended up finishing that sketch." He squeezed her thigh. "I might've been in a rush to spend time with you."

"Hm."

"We don't have to do anything, you know," Gabriel murmured. "A nap sounds nice."

"If Adrien's going to be gone a little longer, I don't want to waste it."

"He's gone a lot. Busy."

"Not as much lately. He wants to be around as much as possible." Nathalie gave her head a vigorous shake, nearly losing her glasses. "Come on."

"If you insist on awake, why don't we go take a walk?" Gabriel suggested.

"Outside?"

"Just around the yard. It'll energize you a little."

Considering how muggy it was, that didn't sound very pleasant, but Nathalie supposed she could tolerate the weather for a spell just to get her body moving again. She nodded and got to her feet, removing her glasses - a relatively new pair with thin white and gold frames - to rub the remaining tiredness out of her eyes.

They were halfway out of the room when Gabriel's phone went off. His mouth contorted. By the sudden darkening of his gaze, Nathalie could tell he knew exactly who had contacted him, and he wasn't happy about it.

"Who is that?" she asked him.

They stepped out into the hallway, and Gabriel pulled out his phone to silence it. "It's no one."

"Gabriel…"

His eyes flicked up, and she watched his countenance change. Visible worry must've shone through her own face. "It's Amelie," he confessed with a thin voice. "She always attempts to call me at 4 PM. And when I don't answer, she texts." He blinked at his screen. "Ugh, yes, there it is."

"How long has this been going on?"

"I told you about it the first time it happened."

Nathalie thought back. Further than she expected. "Well, that was over a month ago."

"Yeah."

"Every day?"

"No. It was every few days at first. Lately, for a week and a half, maybe, it's been every day."

"Asking for the ring?"

"I don't read what she has to say, but I can only assume."

Nathalie grabbed the banister of the staircase, staring at Gabriel dumbly.

"What?" he said.

"And you haven't thought to block her yet?"

"I did." They descended the stairs slowly. Gabriel's brow wrinkled in bitterness as he spoke. "Then she texted Adrien asking for me. When I told him to stop responding to her, he wanted to know why, and I didn't want to explain it to him."

"You could just tell him she's been harassing you."

"Then he'd want more details, and honestly, I just don't want him to be involved, or for Amelie to start holding anything against him too. And besides, I can ignore one call and one text a day. She'll give up eventually. She has to know we have truly important things to worry about."

"But you're not really ignoring it. I can tell it's upsetting you, love," Nathalie said. "When I mentioned her earlier, it seemed to pinch a nerve."

He said nothing to this. Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, they paused, and Gabriel glared at the mid-afternoon luster of sunlight on the marble floor. Nathalie gingerly set a hand around his bicep, stepping close.

"If you don't want to block her, then maybe you should talk to her," she suggested.

"No," he growled.

"There has to be a way for the two of you to have a civil conversation."

"I'm not dignifying her with civil conversation. Let her waste her time and energy on me." Gabriel turned briskly, beginning to make for the backdoor. "And all for a ring. What nonsense."

Nathalie followed him. She would drop the subject, decide against asking him the one question that still loomed in her mind, the question she also didn't ask the first time Amelie had called him out of the blue last month. Why don't you just give her the ring?

She knew the answer. He was too spiteful towards his late wife's sister, especially after the cruel things she had said to him not long ago, and giving her what she wanted was out of the question. He wasn't going to let her win. But Nathalie could only wonder how much this battle was truly worth, if forfeiting was what was best for both of their sanities, for as much as she knew that Gabriel was growing all the more aggravated with Amelie, Nathalie was getting nervous. Surely, he had to anticipate that Amelie would try to escalate this.

And then there was that dark thought in the back of her mind, the one threatening to blacken the truth in its umbra and build a playground for all her senseless fear; the one which whispered, sharp as a needle, Funny, Nathalie, that among all of the things of Emilie's he's had no trouble being rid of, the ring is the one he holds on to. The wedding ring.

That had nothing to do with anything. She knew it didn't.

But the moment she heard that whisper, she winced anyway.

In the wicked July heat, they strolled around the garden, discussing plans for Gabriel's birthday the following week and Le Côté de Guermantes, which Gabriel had only ever read in French. His spirits lifted as they talked, which eased her mind a little.

He picked a flower and placed it behind her ear, and Nathalie rested her face against his palm.

"I love you," she told him.

Don't worry, she told herself.

Chapter Text

Adrien returned home from a photoshoot around noon and knocked on the atelier door.

"You're back sooner than expected. How did it go?" asked Gabriel, who was holding a pair of fabric swatches to the light.

His son waltzed in. "Good, I think. The indoor shoot did anyway. We've decided to postpone the outdoor portion of it for a day that isn't so boiling hot. I'll sweat right through any outfit in this weather." Adrien sat down on one of the small sets of stairs in the room. "Is that alright?"

"As long as it's done by the end of the month."

"This heat wave should pass after this week."

"The sooner the better, though. Scheduling will get to be a bit more complicated when the baby arrives."

"I know. We'll be mindful. Everyone's very aware of the situation," Adrien said with a chuckle. "They all told me to wish you and Nathalie a big congrats. So congrats! on behalf of the crew today."

Gabriel was not so amused. He pulled the swatches away from the light and pursed his lips. Given the way many had reacted just a couple months ago to the news of him and Nathalie having a baby, he had to assume that the sentiments of at least a few were a mere courtesy concealing their skepticism. He was convinced, anyway, that now that Nathalie had begun maternity leave, HR would do what they could to keep her from coming back.

He had to remind himself, the people Adrien referred to didn't work for him, but a magazine publication, and their corporate environment did not align with his own. Nonetheless, Gabriel had trouble trusting most people these days (which, presumably, would make them no different from every other day; it was just that now, he could not help being especially suspicious of the intentions of those around him).

"That's nice," he said. He ditched the vermillion fabric for blood orange. Vitality, though not necessarily warmth, was what he had been looking for. This choice was ever-so-slightly bolder. He wanted his new Spring collection to be blinding. He wanted it to be impractical. He could push even further into orange, but he wasn't exactly going for traffic cone.

"How was your morning?"

Gabriel glanced up and raised an eyebrow at his son, who was still sitting there on the steps with his chin in his palm. "What?"

"Your morning? How was it?"

"Fine."

"Hard at work?"

A little unsure what to do, Gabriel showed off the blood orange swatch. "Yes?"

"Is that for a dress?"

"No, a suit."

"Bright suit."

"That's the intention."

Adrien started snickering. He didn't even try to hide it.

"What?" Gabriel demanded, lifting his chin.

"Isn't it funny?" his son said.

"The color choice?" Gabriel scoffed. "Adrien, I had enough arguments with you about mint versus pistachio. We won't discuss blood orange now."

"No, I mean," Adrien raised his arms above his head and then opened them out to the side, motioning to the atelier as a whole, "Isn't it funny that I'm in here? That I've been here for two minutes now, and you haven't yet told me, 'I'm busy, Adrien. We'll talk later'?"

Gabriel threw him the most bewildered stare he could muster. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, I don't want to cross a line." The playful spark in Adrien's eyes softened. He shrank himself a little, but he continued to hold his father's gaze. "I'm trying to tell you it's nice to, you know, just sit around and talk to you. And I'm glad I've had more chances to do so lately."

Gabriel inhaled sharply as if to reply, but the breath left him a moment later, silent and useless. His gaze darted around the room, and then back to his child, who he was recognizing had made himself quite comfortable in a space he used to so rarely enter.

Adrien gave a sheepish shrug. "I liked working on the nursery with you. I hope that's not all we do together."

"Son." Gabriel pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I...I don't really know what to…"

"That's fine. You don't have to say anything. I know you've had a lot going on. Maybe you haven't even noticed how much you've changed, but...you've changed. In a good way."

This was deja vu if he'd ever experienced it. For a split second, Gabriel sensed himself retreating inward, ducking into a shell to be protected from a blow of truth he was built to resist, but the moment passed, and he shook off the instinct. Sighing faintly, he dipped his head at his son. "I have noticed. I've worked towards it."

"I can't tell you how happy I am, Father," Adrien replied with a little smile. "For a while, I was so nervous that things would never get better. I was nervous that we wouldn't all be able to feel like a family." He paused, looking between his feet. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?"

"And can you promise you won't get upset?"

"Adrien…"

"I won't say it if it'll upset you."

"Fine." Gabriel nodded. Rationally, he knew it was a good thing that Adrien felt welcome here, unintimidated in his presence, so he would try not to shut it down. "I promise I won't get upset."

"I didn't know," Adrien began, rubbing his hands together in apprehension, "if you really meant it. When you said you would be there for Nathalie. After Hawk Moth tried to akumatize her."

Something in Gabriel wilted. He took a small step back from his podium, and as much as he tried to maintain his rigid visage, he knew his son must have caught the rapid shift in his demeanor. He only hoped for the moment Adrien didn't catch that it was the mention of Hawk Moth which had most vexed him.

"I knew you cared about her enough to worry, and to treat her well in the aftermath, but I was scared it wouldn't last. Just like it didn't last when you two were together the first time," continued Adrien. Then, his face brightened. He looked back up. "But my mind's completely changed now. I know it's only been a couple months, but I can see the difference in you, Father."

"Can you?"

"And I know it's there, because I can see it in almost everything. It's not only in how you are with Nathalie, but how you talk about the baby, and how you talk to me. And how you carry yourself."

"Wow," Gabriel murmured, trying not to allow any emotion to seep into his voice. For good measure, he rolled his eyes, which his son only laughed at. "If that's the case, I should be paying Richter double."

He believed it was a good joke, good enough to stifle the building sentimentality anyway, but Adrien's laughter rolled to a sudden stop. Gabriel glanced back at his son, and found him sitting there with a puzzled look on his face and his eyes darting around in laser-pointed thought.

Then, "Who's Richter?"

Gabriel tensed. Oh, right.

Adrien didn't know about that.

He asked, "Does he work for you?"

"No." Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back. "Dr. Richter is my therapist."

"Therapist?" Adrien echoed him like he'd never heard the term before, stared at him like he had sprouted a third ear. "You're seeing a therapist?"

"Yes, Adrien."

"For how long?"

"Since April. About three months."

His son gaped at him. "Really?"

"Every Tuesday morning. I suppose I've never mentioned it before."

"Gosh," Adrien muttered. "That makes so much sense! Wow, Father, I...I'm proud of you."

Gabriel squirmed a little. "It was Nathalie's idea."

"I figured. But you listened to her." The boy beamed.

"It took more convincing that I care to admit."

"You got there."

"Yes," Gabriel sighed, "I did."

During the lull of conversation that followed, Adrien's phone chimed. He stood up and pulled it out of his back pocket, letting out a quiet, "Ooh," as he saw what was on screen.

"What is it?"

"Nino invited me to the pool. Can I go? He'll pick me up since G. is on lunch right now."

"It's going to be crowded on a day like this."

"Please, Father?"

Gabriel had no other reason to refuse, apart from disliking that Nino boy, but when Adrien told him that Marinette and Alya were also going to be there, he figured he should loosen up, especially after the conversation he and Adrien had just shared. He nodded stiffly.

"Thank you, Father!"

"Return home before dinner."

Adrien was running out of the room already. "I will!"

Left alone again, Gabriel went ahead with the color choice and proceeded with his design. It took a minute or two, but once his guard had been lowered, the unexpected interactions he'd had with his son processed through his steely head, he smiled. Just slightly. Adrien didn't say the exact words, but Gabriel wondered if it was safe to believe that he had been forgiven for his frigid behavior during the earlier months of Nathalie's pregnancy. He'd tried not to let himself be agitated by Adrien's animosity, but now that it had appeared to have been released, Gabriel could not prevent the back of his head from asking whether he had been let off the hook too easily after all.

But thinking of Nathalie, he realized he hadn't seen her since he got out of bed that morning. She didn't come downstairs for breakfast. Gabriel had assumed she was sleeping in since Louise had a family emergency and cancelled for the week, but now it was a little past noon, and she'd never popped her head into the atelier to let him know she was up or try to sneak some work for herself to do.

He reached a good place to pause his drawing and headed to the kitchen, where he requested a cold drink to bring up to her. The chef also prepared a sandwich, since she had yet to eat today. Gabriel brought both upstairs to their bedroom, pushing down the door handle with his elbow. He found Nathalie where he'd left her that morning. She'd gotten out of her pajamas and into a mauve blouse, but she still laid in bed with the curtains drawn shut. She was awake, raising her head when he walked in.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, love." Gabriel set the sandwich on the bedside table and handed the drink - a raspberry lemonade - directly to Nathalie once she'd sat up. She took a small sip, and Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed. "I didn't see you this morning."

"I was going to come down." She gestured to her outfit. "But I don't feel very well. Not hungry either."

"Oh?"

"I've had a couple contractions today already."

Something like electricity fired through Gabriel's blood. He gave Nathalie a nervous look. "Have you called your doctor?"

"No, no, it's much too early for that. They're only getting a little more frequent, but they don't hurt yet. It's just uncomfortable." She ran a hand in a big circle around her midsection. "The only thing I'm hoping for at this point is that the two of you don't end up with the same birthday. I say that like it's the worst thing that could happen."

"Pretend it is," Gabriel said, scooting closer. He didn't want to think about everything that could go wrong between now and the baby's birth, and whatever kind of confused, exhausted mania comes right after. The most he remembered of the day Adrien was born almost sixteen years ago was that he was a panicked wreck the entire time.

Nathalie sipped at her drink again and then set it aside. She gazed at Gabriel with these big, shining eyes that came close to making him fall apart. He hoped more than anything that their baby would have her eyes.

"Can you believe this is happening?" she murmured.

He shook his head. "Hardly."

"I'm not ready."

"As someone who has done this before, I don't know if there is a way to ever be ready."

"That's reassuring," she mumbled.

"I am certain that Adrien is ready enough for the both of us."

Nathalie chuckled. He noticed as she was smiling how weary she looked. Pale. Gabriel leaned down and planted a few soft kisses across her belly.

"But I can't wait to meet them," he whispered.

Reaching out to stroke his cheek, Nathalie gently shook her head as if in disbelief. Her thumb followed the sharp shape of his cheekbone, and she asked him, "When did you change your mind?"

"Change my mind?"

"About wanting this child?"

Gabriel pressed his lips to her bump again, contemplating the question. He could feel the baby move, and Nathalie's unreadable expression briefly opened into that small flash of wonder. Gabriel loved how she never seemed to get used to it. "I don't know," he admitted. "It wasn't in one moment, and I went back and forth for a period of time, completely unsure what to feel. Maybe one of the earliest times I considered the possibility of wanting it was when it first kicked."

Nathalie smiled. "I remember that. You'd acted so strange."

"I felt strange," he said. He lifted his head and stared between the narrow gap in the curtains, at the small sliver of daylight cutting through the center of the room. "I think I wondered then, maybe I don't not want it."

"It was never very straight-forward with me either. My feelings fluctuated for months," she admitted, "which I might feel a little guilty about now."

"Don't feel guilty, darling. This has been a deeply complicated time for the both of us. As you know, even after that very first kick, especially after it, I continued to struggle to come to terms with it." He ran a hand up and down her leg. "All I know for sure is that eventually, I wanted the baby because I wanted everything having to do with you. I'd take it all, no matter what."

"But you'll love them for more than me, right?" Nathalie asked, and the question startled him. He looked back at her with raised eyebrows. "You won't just love them because...I'm there."

"Nathalie, what?" he breathed sharply.

"Sorry, I -" She readjusted her posture, sitting up as far as she could. "I'm having a moment."

"I'll love them for themself too," he told her. "I'll love you both. In your own rights."

Closing her eyes, she sighed. "I know. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Nathalie." Gabriel clasped hand between two of his own. "Are you worried that I...would ever stop loving them if I ever stopped loving you?"

Her visage contorted in pain. She turned her head, as if from a shrill noise. "When you say it aloud, it sounds like nonsense, doesn't it?"

He would not tell her it did or didn't. Either response could have been received poorly somehow, whether because it invalidated the reasons she was worried, or suggested she needed to be. Damned if he did or didn't. Of course, Gabriel knew he would never abandon or fall out of love with Nathalie, but he could not pretend he hadn't hurt her badly enough to make her wonder. He squeezed her hand. "I'll always love our child. And I will always love you, Nathalie. The two of you and Adrien are everything to me."

"I believe you. I do." She opened her eyes and stared at his hands. "You know how I latch onto anything to fret about."

"The only thing you have to worry yourself over is getting that baby here," he murmured into her skin as he raised her hand to kiss it. With a wink, he added, "Preferably after the eighth."

Nathalie gave a little laugh.

He encouraged her to eat the sandwich, and though she protested she had no appetite, she eventually obliged, finishing just half of it before he brought the plate and her mostly-full lemonade back to the kitchen.

Gabriel decided to bring his work upstairs so he could stay with her. Nathalie stayed in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom, rotating between reading and resting her eyes while he continued a series of design sketches from the sofa. He noticed her having a contraction; some time a little before three, she winced, breathing in abruptly and changing positions. It seemed to last about half a minute before her tense brow relaxed, and she sank back into the mattress. Gabriel's heart was pounding. He didn't realize it until it was over. Soon, sooner than he imagined, the baby would be here. The thought petrified him. He sat motionless on the sofa for several minutes, recovering from that alarming blow.

In comparison to what arose later in the afternoon, it was but a breath in the wind.

He managed to accomplish a lot despite not being located in his atelier. The change of space must have stimulated his creative energy. After knocking out a couple extra drawings, he shared them with Nathalie, who responded with small nods of approval and a few endearingly nitpicky criticisms.

Then, she told him she was feeling nauseous, and left him for a while to go sit in the bathroom.

From there, the whole world spun out from under him.

His phone started vibrating a quarter after four. He swore he'd silenced the thing, but sure enough, Amelie was making her daily attempt to make him pay her any mind. Really, it was pathetic. Wanting the wedding band so terribly that she had to ring for his attention like clockwork, she might as well beg on her knees in person. It would be hilarious to see if he wasn't so averse to the notion of looking at her face ever again.

He reached to set his phone to Do Not Disturb, but paused as a text message from Amelie popped up on the screen. Like every other he'd received in the last few weeks, he almost completely ignored it, but his gaze caught onto something that raised his hackles. His son's name.

Gabriel gave the text message a proper read:

Answer me. You don't want Adrien to get to you first.

Adrien hadn't contacted him lately, but Amelie seemed to suggest he was about to, and the only way she'd know that was if the two of them had just spoken. A biting anger pierced every nerve. The boundaries Amelie had crossed were far too numerous, and Gabriel wouldn't tolerate it any longer.

He called her back.

"Gabriel."

Hearing her voice set his blood on fire. Gabriel shot to his feet and barked, "You will leave my family and I alone, Amelie, or I can guarantee you will regret it."

"Gabriel-"

"Do you understand? From this moment forward, you will not contact me, and you will not contact my son under any circumstances. I urge you to drop this ring issue entirely and move forward with your life. I have no time, no interest whatsoever in giving you anything you could ask for. You are going to live with it."

"All of this rage over a ring you don't even wear anymore. You must have so little dignity for it to hinge on your defiance." Amelie's voice was devoid of her characteristic theatricality. She almost sounded bored, but as her words settled in, Gabriel registered it as something closer to melancholy. Melancholy? What did she have to be so gloomy about? "That stubbornness of yours, it's your fatal flaw, Gabriel. Happy Birthday, by the way."

"My birthday is on Wednesday," he growled.

"Is it? My bad. Consider this an early gift, then."

"Gift?"

"No, hardly a gift. Poor word choice on my part." Amelie paused and sighed lengthily. "You're out of time."

A heavy silence crashed over the room, only broken by the white noise of the electric fan. Gabriel's head snapped towards the bathroom door as he remembered the woman that sat inside, who might have just heard everything he'd snarled through the phone. Dread whirled through his body, slow but vivid like dye pumped into water. He left the room. He traveled to the nursery instead, and once he'd softly closed the door behind him, he muttered a brisk, "What?"

"You're out of time, Gabriel," Amelie said again. "I'm tired of waiting."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you know, I've been trying to tell you, again and again, to do right by me and my family, but you never did, so…" Amelie's tone plunged into spine-chilling darkness. "I'm ruining yours."

"Amelie-"

"Maybe you didn't see any of my messages, but really, that's not my problem. I told you my threats aren't empty, Gabriel. Did you think I was bluffing? If you ignored my warnings, that is your own fault."

Gabriel glared at an empty space on the mint green wall. His blood boiled at her words while his bones turned to ice. "What did you do?" he growled.

"I told the truth."

"What truth?"

"You know," Amelie cooed. "You know exactly."

No, he didn't.

He refused to.

The realization loomed around from all directions, but he didn't let it collapse in.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Amelie," he said through his teeth.

"Adrien's on his way to see you." How could she have the nerve to sound so sad? "I didn't have to give you any warning at all, and maybe I shouldn't have, but I offered several. I took pity on you and your growing family because I'm not an utter monster. I'm just a woman who wants what's hers." The way she spoke to him, he could envision her leaning into his face with those sharp slanted eyes. "And I didn't get it. So you get what you deserve."

"I don't understand." He pushed back against that thundering thought, that horrible notion of the truth she told.

"Adrien was upset. Very upset. Anyone would be. Poor kid, I caught him when he was with his friends. Feel kinda bad for ruining his lovely day, but." She paused. Paused like she was tossing her shoulders in nonchalant shrug, a shrug like she hadn't just possibly destroyed everything for him -

No. She hasn't done that. That. What even was that? He didn't know. She was getting a rise out of him over nothing. She had to be.

"He can take it into his hands now," Amelie continued. "Whatever he chooses, I doubt he'll forgive you."

"I don't believe you," Gabriel hissed.

"Yes, you do. For your own sake, you ought to, because this is only the beginning," she threatened. "First, I told your son. But if you continue to act like a defiant teenager over such a simple matter, then I'll tell the rest of the world as well - if Adrien doesn't beat me to it, anyway."

The shock was hitting him now. Gabriel couldn't force it back any longer. Weak in the knees, he buckled into the armchair in the corner of the room. Greens and blues and corals flew upwards; he was falling through the sea.

"I'd say I'll tell your girlfriend too, but it's safe to assume she was your partner in crime through all of this, isn't it?"

"You knew," Gabriel whispered. He wasn't sure Amelie even heard him at first. A small voice, a voice that barely belonged to him creaked out from somewhere deep in his throat.

But she did hear him. Almost as quietly as he'd spoken, she told him, "Of course I knew."

Gabriel caved in on himself.

"Do you honestly think," Amelie murmured, voice dangerously and uncharacteristically low, "that my own sister would not have told me what she was planning to do with those miraculous?"

No. No, no, no. Gabriel would bite off his tongue if this was really happening.

"She'd have never let you know that she told me everything. She knew you would have thrown a fit about it."

"Everything?" Gabriel rasped, surprised to find the air hadn't been drained from his lungs entirely.

"What was I supposed to believe when a butterfly-themed supervillain started showing up on the news? I wondered for a split second if my sister had thrown subtlety out the window in favor of a caricature - maybe that would have been a brilliant way to conceal her identity - until I remembered, of course, that she'd driven herself to death's doorstep a few months before. It was you, Gabriel. Who else could it be?"

"Why would you-" A storm of questions spun through his head until he felt sick. All along, Amelie had known he was Hawk Moth, and she waited until now to use it against him, waited until he was days away from his life beginning anew. She'd never let him suspect it. She had her own reasons to hate him and her own threats to make, and now that he knew she'd been holding on to this secret for months - years, maybe - Gabriel had never in his life felt so small and so useless. Crushed and ground to dust.

He gasped, "Why would you wait so long?"

Amelie hummed. "There was a period of time, Gabriel, that you were attempting to rescue Emilie. I am not shocked that you may have forgotten that already."

"Did you really care about her?"

"Please, I am not so heartless as to wish death upon my own sister. I can't say I found it particularly tragic that she put herself in that situation, what with that ambitious spirit of hers always getting her into trouble, but I would not have objected to her revival. Not by any means. As long as I got my rings back, anyway."

"What's wrong with you?" Gabriel choked.

"Goodness, you say that like you have anything to be appalled by. Was I not transparent with you otherwise about what I want?" Amelie released another sigh, this one floaty and brief and somehow awful enough to make Gabriel feel as though he'd been skinned. "You should thank me that I never went so far as to expose you any sooner! I could have ended this the moment you decided to turn your back on Emilie, but - can you believe it, Gabriel? - I had faith in you."

"No, you didn't," he muttered thinly. That blur of a confrontation they'd had two months ago exploded through his mind and sudden, razor-sharp clarity, pinning his spine against the back of the chair. All of those things Amelie had accused him of, about doing nothing to help his missing wife, about being a worthless husband who didn't love and honor Emilie as much as she deserved…

Bullshit.

All of it.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

She knew exactly how she was hurting him, which buttons she was pressing, which sources of guilt she was using to flood his mind and drown out any remaining sense he had. She knew she could blame him for not caring, because she knew he had a way to prove her wrong.

She knew he had something to give him pause about keeping that ring from her. Something that could shatter the potential of his new life with Nathalie. Something, maybe the one thing, that would make him question how much he valued his pride. She tested him. She found out how far he would go to deny her the one thing she always wanted, and how far she would take it to steal it all away from him.

"You manipulated me." Gabriel rubbed his face, and his glasses clattered onto the floor. "You didn't care about me being a faithful husband. You used Emilie's life as leverage."

"I would have honored my sister's endeavors by bringing her dirty secrets to my grave, Gabriel," Amelie retorted. "And yours, by association. But you made this more difficult than it had to be. Had you only surrendered the ring as recently as yesterday, we wouldn't be in this mess. You don't seem to appreciate the breadth of my patience. And after everything: after denying me dozens of times, after abandoning my sister, who had so much hope in you to save her, you should consider my choice to wait this long an incredible act of generosity. You deserved not a tenth of the chances I offered you."

The longer she spoke, the more her voice brightened into a snapping, crackling blaze. Gabriel was singed by her words, skin coiling and disintegrating like paper, reduced to ash in defeat. Speechless, his mouth hung open.

"You're blessed," Amelie flared, "that I'm even bothering to give you a call. I could have let your son tell you everything, but I would be surprised if he could even bear to look you in the eye anymore!"

Adrien. He was coming home.

"And like I said, I am not stopping here. Maybe I'll give it two days, until your actual birthday, and then I'll disclose what I know to the public. You'll be done for."

"It's yours," Gabriel murmured. He bolted upright and pressed his face up to the window, fogging the glass with his gasping breath. Outside, the sidewalks were empty. Nobody wanted to be under the sun on a day like today. He didn't see Adrien yet, or the car. "It's yours, Amelie."

"What?"

"The fucking ring!" Gabriel pounded a fist against the wall. The mobile above the crib swayed in response, plastic seashells and fish and crabs rattling against each other. A dull reverberation shot straight into his bones. "I'll give you the motherfucking ring, you understand? I'll mail it to you today, if I even get the God-forsaken chance, but you won't tell another soul. Not another soul, you malevolent-!" Gabriel bit his tongue. He could have crushed the phone in his chalk-white grip.

"There, was that so difficult?"

Gabriel didn't think he could be angrier than he'd been during their last bitter argument, but he was well past that now. The only reason he hadn't already broken something in the room was because panic was swiftly rushing forth into his bloodstream, practically paralyzing him as he stared out the window, hardly blinking.

"Let me know once you've shipped it, darling," Amelie said. The rage had been extinguished from her tone. She sounded out of breath. It took everything in Gabriel not to wither when she added, "Good luck with your son."

A low pair of beeps signaled that she had disconnected.

Gabriel didn't smash his phone like he wanted to. Instead, the mobile snapped from the ceiling and broke apart on the hardwood floor. He ran.

Sailing down the stairs, Gabriel went back and scrolled through all of the text messages Amelie had sent him over the last several weeks, and maybe it was the panicked fury of his head that made him miss it, but not a single one had provided any sort of hint that she knew more than she ever let on. She made threats, plenty of them, but they were vague. They were repetitive. She reminded him again and again, I don't make empty promises. He ignored it all so easily. All she has against me are lies and stories, he'd told himself. He thought she'd have no power over him if he just pretended she didn't exist. How stupid was he? After everything she had already done to twist his mind and coerce him towards his own downfall, how did he expect that everything would be okay?

Her text from yesterday read simply, This is your last warning.

Gabriel locked himself in the atelier and stood behind curtains he yanked shut. Two fingers parted them just enough that he could see the gate. If Adrien had been driven, he would have been home already.

It was crashing in now. All the ways everything was about to go wrong. Dissolve, disintegrate, shatter, burn, or rot. Gabriel didn't know how it would hurt, but he wouldn't survive this pain. Public disgrace, private destruction. His life was only just coming together to be torn apart again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not yet.

He wanted to believe his son wouldn't expose him to the rest of the city before facing him.

He wanted to believe Adrien possessed the slightest shred of faith that this had all been for a reason worth knowing about.

A little hope. A little grace. A little bit of anything.

This couldn't be over yet.

Gabriel prayed he hadn't called Nathalie. Gabriel prayed he hadn't called anyone at all.

The minutes, so few minutes, ticked by at a glacial pace.

His heart was in his throat, suffocating him.

And then…

Gabriel went stone-still when somebody appeared on the other side of the gate, so quickly that he hadn't even noticed him approaching. From between those iron bars keeping him out, a red-faced Adrien glared into the yard, with an anguish in his gaze that wrenched like a spade between Gabriel's chest. His son was dressed only in his swim trunks and a t-shirt damp around the neckline with sweat. His golden hair was wet. He was wearing flip-flops. He'd run here in flip-flops, all the way from the pool. He hadn't even waited for a driver.

Desperate fists clenched the bars and pulled. A muffled shout exploded out of his twisted mouth.

Gabriel didn't know if those were tears or beads of sweat running down his face.

From Nathalie's desk, he activated the front-gate camera and intercom.

His son appeared on the screen, glancing up at the lens with a knife-like stare.

Tears. They were definitely tears.

Gabriel spoke into the intercom. His voice trembled:

"Adrien…"

Chapter Text

Perhaps, looks could kill after all. Gabriel certainly felt like he was dying where he stood, hunched over the computer screen, pierced by the daggers that were his son's bitter, teary eyes. Surely, if either of them moved, if that gaze was pulled clean from Gabriel's trembling body, the life would drain out of him, and he would shrivel, become nothing.

He rasped, "Adrien…"

"You're not - you're not really going to lock me out of my own house?" his son stammered. He rattled the gate again. "You can't just-"

"I'm not locking you out," Gabriel said, desperate to keep his voice level. "I'll let you in. We'll talk about this. But before anything happens, you and I are going to come to an understanding."

"An understanding," Adrien scoffed.

"I'm willing to explain myself, but first, we need to be in agreement: Nathalie is not finding out about this."

"Finding out about what? That you were Hawk Moth?"

"Keep your voice down," snapped Gabriel.

"No one is out here." Adrien roughly brushed the damp hair off of his forehead. "I ran all the way here in this heat, by the way, so forcing me to stay outside is-"

"Nathalie is not going to find out that you know about this situation, do you understand?" Gabriel growled.

Adrien's face trembled. A hundred thoughts appeared to occur to him all at the same time. His anger broke for a moment, long enough for the sheer agony underlying his every cell to spread across the surface of his wide, horrified eyes. A pair of tears slid down his face. "Nathalie," he gasped.

"I hope that past your emotionality, Adrien, you can recognize that she is currently not equipped to confront this issue," continued Gabriel sternly. "As deeply upsetting as our concerns are at the moment, they are to remain between us at all costs."

"We can't keep...keep her in the dark," Adrien whimpered.

"I am not going to make the mistake of hiding this from her forever, but as of right now, her health and well-being are my first priority. The baby is coming soon, and I am not about to make that any more difficult for her by roping her into this mess. I am sure you can see where I am coming from." The more he spoke, the more Gabriel's confidence was returning to him. Even though he suspected Adrien was beginning to realize the implications of Nathalie having already known about his secret identity, he knew his son cared too much about her and about his younger sibling to stir the waters surrounding them. "My hope, son, is that the two of us can be at peace with this situation before we must inform her of any part of it."

"Do you really think it's going to be that easy?" Adrien said incredulously.

"Are you in agreement that Nathalie is not going to learn about this until further notice?"

His son hesitated. Gabriel held his breath waiting for a response. He wouldn't know how to proceed if Adrien did not comply with his conditions. He was terrified of how Nathalie would be affected by this disaster; however he could, he needed to protect her. For weeks, maybe. Possibly months. And he needed Adrien to be on the same page with him for that to be possible.

Finally, his son gave a curt nod to the camera. "Fine. I won't say a word to Nathalie. Not yet."

"Thank you." Gabriel reached for the mechanism that would open the gate. "Come at once to the atelier."

He watched Adrien cross through the front yard, but not before the teenaged boy stood frozen at the mouth of the open gate for several seconds. Whatever drive had brought him home for - what had looked to be before this moment - an explosive confrontation had died in his face, replaced by a visible doubt.

But then, before Gabriel knew it, he was there at the atelier door, panting for breath, staring Gabriel in the eye for the first time since he'd been told the truth.

"Perhaps, you should hydrate," Gabriel suggested. He remained behind Nathalie's desk, attempting to hold himself with the dignity and firm posture of a man who still had something to hide.

"I don't want to hydrate. I want to know what on earth - why on earth - how was it-" Adrien couldn't look at his father for long. He slammed the door and shook the whole room. "I-I don't even know where to begin. I don't understand. How did this start? What was it all for? Why did you think that you could - do you have any idea what you were -"

"Slow down," Gabriel told him. "Sit. Catch your breath." Adrien did not sit, but he backed his weight against the door and let his head droop. Trying to stand even taller, keeping his voice from shaking, Gabriel went on, "This, you know, is an extremely delicate and complicated matter. Whatever you must think of me due to my past actions, I want you to understand that that is not the man I am today. You said it yourself earlier today, son. I've changed."

Adrien shot a glare at him. "Don't use my words to prove yourself."

"I'm not. Whatever you've witnessed, son, it has to mean something."

"You're Hawk Moth," his son breathed, like it was hitting him all over again. His spine went ramrod straight. A flash of horror blanched his sunkissed visage. "This whole time you were Hawk Moth."

"I am not Hawk Moth anymore."

"Oh my God…"

"Adrien, look at me, please."

His son's eyes darted around the room. "You almost never allowed me in here," he muttered. "Is this where you did it all? Is this where you sent out akumas and - and - attacked Paris?"

"I'm going to ask you a couple questions, Adrien. Just focus on them. I know all of this is overwhelming."

"You have questions for me?"

"You can ask your own in a moment. We are going to take this conversation slowly." Gabriel walked around Nathalie's desk, and when Adrien saw him approach, he flinched against the door. The reaction penetrated Gabriel's soul and he stopped cold. "You don't actually see me as a supervillain, do you?" he asked, and whatever strength he had left in his voice wavered and snapped.

"Is that your first question?"

"Adrien…"

"F-Father…"

"Did Amelie tell you what I was doing it for?" His son did not answer him at first, his eyes on the floor as he fiddled anxiously with the ring on his right hand. "What did she tell you? Evidently, you had no trouble believing her."

"She...she told me about Mom," Adrien murmured.

Gabriel felt himself become brittle. He turned his head towards the other side of the room, where the black curtain concealed the exposed lift mechanisms. Emilie's portrait had been removed a few weeks ago, and he hadn't replaced it yet.

"She asked me…" There was a dull thump, and Gabriel glanced back to find his son sitting with his back against the door, knees pulled into his chest, "if I remembered the time you and Mom took that trip to Tibet. I stayed with her and Felix and his dad that week. The two of you went to look for the miraculous." He pressed his eyes shut, and another tear slid down his cheek. "I never realized it. I know - I mean, I know the Ladyblog says the miraculous originated in Tibet, and then I started thinking about how the butterfly and the peacock were the only two that were separated from the rest and how it would make sense they would have been left behind there. It all fell into place. All your secrecy, the fact you stopped leaving the house when the akuma attacks started, the butterfly imagery everywhere."

"What else did she say about your mother?" Gabriel asked hoarsely.

"The magic made her sick." Adrien ducked his head into his knees. "It killed her."

Taking another couple steps closer, Gabriel shivered with a poignant sigh.

"Amelie told me you were trying to finish what she started. And that you were trying to save her."

He sat on the floor, keeping a few meters of distance between himself and his son. "You believe that, don't you?"

"I believed it when she said it." Adrien glanced up slightly. "And I believe it now. I think. But as I was running back here, standing outside the gate, I could only think about how Hawk Moth hurt so many people. You hurt so many people. You did it over and over again. But I'm supposed to accept that you were endangering a whole city...just to help one person?"

"Your mother," Gabriel emphasized.

Adrien tightened his hold around his legs. "I know, I know, but - a supervillain, Dad? A terrorist?" A sob lurched out of him. "I love Mom. I always will, but...but…"

"I know you love her."

"But how? How could you think that you were…?"

"The people in this house" - Gabriel stole a look at Nathalie's desk - "would be willing to do anything for those we love."

"Who are those you love?" cried Adrien. "Who? Just Mom? Because if all of this is true, then she's the only person you ever did 'anything' for. For months you weren't there for Nathalie. Or her baby. Or me. You cast the rest of us aside!"

"That's not true."

"Yes it is! You know it is! You'd have admitted just that a few hours ago!"

"Keep your voice down," growled Gabriel.

"How could you?" cried Adrien.

"I don't know what else to tell you. Because I loved-"

"No!" yelled his son, startling him.

"Adrien, don't shout. Nathalie is-"

"How could you hurt her?" A confused, blazing wrath lit up Adrien's eyes as he glowered at his father from beneath unruly strands of golden hair. Gabriel was used to seeing Emilie in his son's gaze, but the fire that assailed him now was something of Adrien's own. "How could you hurt Nathalie?"

"Son."

"You - you tried to akumatize her. You tried to akumatize her while she is carrying your baby, and this whole time, for what little time I've known, that is the one thing I can't understand. The one."

"The rest of it you believe," Gabriel murmured, "with ease?"

"No. It hurts." Adrien lowered his voice. "It hurts bad. But I can believe it. I can believe Mom would go looking for the miraculous; she always liked magic and legends and old things. I can believe you would do drastic things to save her. I can believe you would forget about me and everything else while you tried-"

"I didn't forget you."

"-but why would you do that Nathalie? She was hurting so much for so long and she wanted you to be there and you tried to akumatize her?"

"I would have never," Gabriel said, spreading a hand across his heart. "I did not send that butterfly to her so I could transform her into some supervillain. I won't claim to be a good man, son, but I am not that cruel."

"What were you doing?"

"I was trying to help her. The akuma's power supplemented enough strength to keep her conscious. She was about to black out and I was trying to stop that from happening. I was deathly afraid that I was about to lose her. And the baby."

Adrien chewed on this for a minute. "But that's not the whole story, is it?" he then asked, rubbing his eyes.

"No." Gabriel sighed. He slid several inches across the floor to sit a little closer. As he spoke, he traced a finger along the seam of his pant leg. "I'm surprised that your aunt was so honest about how your mother and I got ahold of the miraculous, and the reason I was ever Hawk Moth."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I know her own sins won't erase mine, but Amelie told you the truth for the sole purpose of punishing me for not relinquishing your mother's wedding ring to her."

Adrien looked at him like he'd just spoken some alien language.

"Our wedding bands were Graham de Vanily family heirlooms. After your mother...left us, Amelie started pestering me to return them to her."

"I'm still not following."

"When she visited us a couple months ago, it was to confront me about the rings. I won't disclose the details, because frankly I don't desire to relive any part of that conversation, but now that I know she was aware of me being Hawk Moth the whole time, I'll just say that she used that information to manipulate me into a very dark place." Gabriel's hands curled into fists, fingernails biting into his palms. "You know Adrien, the reason I found it so difficult to let go of your mother was because I had the means to save her. I fought a battle between bringing her back to us and putting her to rest for good. It was the reason, the only reason, I didn't let myself be there for Nathalie."

Something on Adrien's tongue died and he exhaled sharply.

"Anyway, Amelie exploited my indecision, and I made one of the worst mistakes of my life: I transformed for the first time since August, and I released an akuma."

"Nathalie saw it," muttered Adrien. "That's why she got out of the car."

"Yes."

"She thought you were abandoning her."

"I wasn't myself," Gabriel said.

"But Hawk Moth was you."

"Yes, but that's not who I am anymore. That's not who I was even then. I stopped using the miraculous eleven months ago, Adrien. I was growing weary. I was never going to win. I told myself I would take a break, but everything with Nathalie - I know you didn't know about our relationship at the time, but it fell into place so easily. I'd already fallen in love with her and I didn't even know it."

Adrien's head dropped back, eyes floating up to the ceiling. Swollen and red, they continued to release quiet tears down his cheeks as his mouth quivered and he absent-mindedly peeled off his flip-flops. A long pause persisted between them, and Adrien did not lift his head off the door when after at least five minutes of frail silence, he whispered, "Nathalie was Mayura."

"Yes." Gabriel nodded grimly. "She used the same miraculous that got your mother sick."

"Why would she do that? Didn't she know it killed Mom?"

"She knew. She used it anyway."

"You let her?" Adrien blinked down at him, fear rippling through his gaze like light across water. "You didn't make her…"

"No. I didn't make her. She wanted to help me." Gabriel closed his eyes as a wave of guilt broke over him, making him slump forward a little. "I should have stopped her. There were times I tried but she insisted and...I was desperate enough to allow her to take it as far as she was willing to go. We found the fix for the miraculous just in time. Any further and she would have followed Emilie's same fate."

"God…" Adrien choked.

"I don't want you to resent her for this," his father said. He reached partway across the space between them, fingers splayed across cold marble. "She was willing to risk her life for Emilie, for our family. You have every right to be horrified by some of the things we've done, and I know it sounds backwards, but she is the most selfless and dependable and resilient person I've ever had the gift of knowing. She makes me a better man, and if it wasn't for her, I might still be Hawk Moth, or in prison, or worse. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." Adrien's reply was heavy as a boulder.

"Please, however you feel when you walk away from this, that's the one thing I want you to take with you. Nathalie doesn't deserve to bear the burden of my mistakes."

"But she was a supervillain, just like you," his son murmured. "And according to you, she made that choice."

"I want you to see past the things she did and understand why she did them."

"I'm trying. You know it won't be easy to reconcile her and Mayura." Perhaps he was feeling too hopeful for his own good, but Gabriel thought he saw the stoniness in Adrien's eyes crack. "But I believe you that her heart was in the right place. I believe she cares about our family, and that she would have done what she could to help us. I was seeing it elsewhere too. In her civilian life."

"She does care. And I do too." Gabriel came just a little bit closer, and Adrien turned his head away. "Everything I did, I did because I cared. I did for the ones I love. Do you see what I mean now, when I say that?"

"But do you have any idea what you were like, Father?" Adrien challenged. He stared at the black curtain, as if searching for his mother's image beyond it. "Having the whole city at your mercy several days a week, taking advantage of people at their most upset and vulnerable. Did you even know Ladybug had the power to reverse all the damage you could do before you started? Did you ever realize that she couldn't erase the way you made us all feel, fearing your attacks every moment of every day?"

Gabriel swallowed dryly. He said nothing.

"You hurt a lot of my friends. You have no idea how they all felt when you sent out that akuma a couple months ago. It was all anyone would talk about for a week. We were waiting for Hawk Moth to strike again. At any given moment. Do you honestly think the people of this city could look past everything you've done?"

"I don't need the city to look past my actions," snapped Gabriel. "They're not going to find out about this. If Amelie is true to her word, then you should remain the only person who knows the truth."

"True to her word?"

"She threatened to tell the public if I didn't give her the ring, so I'll give it." Gabriel's scowl deepened and he got to his feet. "And you. You wouldn't tell anyone what you know, would you?"

"N-no."

"Nathalie and I are starting over. We're leaving the past behind us. It hasn't been easy, Adrien, and I don't expect your discovery to make it any easier, but I hope that for the sake of your sibling, at least, you will do what you can to make this situation tolerable."

Adrien stunned him with his next question. Emerald eyes flashed back in his direction suddenly, and he asked, "Aren't you sorry?"

The temperature of Gabriel's blood dropped. "Sorry?" he echoed.

"For spending a whole year terrorizing Paris." His son said it like it was obvious, and of course, it was. So obvious, in fact, that Gabriel was skeptical of Adrien's apparent desire to hear him utter those two meager words, skeptical that they would mean anything more than all that had already been said.

"It's complicated," he said.

"You're not?" Adrien cried.

"If you're asking me if I am sorry for the efforts I made to bring your mother back to us, then no, I'm not," Gabriel explained through gritted teeth. "If you are asking me if I regret there wasn't a way to do so without hurting anyone, then yes, Adrien, I suppose I do."

"You 'suppose' you do."

"I do. I do regret that." His tone softened. He unballed the fists behind his back. "I regret hurting you."

Adrien straightened out his legs, looking as though the exertion he spent running all the way back home was finally catching up to him. His bright, emotional countenance went uncharacteristically dull.

"Son, I'm sorry." Gabriel approached him, and offered a hand to help him back to his feet. "I don't know if I can stand here and give you a detailed list of all the things I wish I'd done differently and all the things that were worth trying to save your mother's life. This all goes deeper than Hawk Moth. The whole story started a long, long time ago, before I knew Nathalie, before you were born, and I don't think knowing it will help you. But I'm trying to tell you now, it's a mess of bad decisions and ignorance and naïve hope, and it led me here somehow."

Adrien didn't take his hand. He stood on his own. "I see that."

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know."

"That's okay." As Adrien reached for the door handle, Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder. "You won't tell Nathalie about this, will you? Or anybody else, for that matter?"

"No. I promised I wouldn't. And besides, I need some time to...think." Adrien clenched his right hand, grabbed the door, and pushed it open. "Plus a shower…"

He left. Alone in the atelier, Gabriel exhaled away all the weight that hadn't crushed him yet.

That...went better than he expected.

Fuck, he needed a smoke.

But first, he didn't waste time taking care of the ring. After retrieving it from the safe, he packaged it in a small yellow envelope and left it for Adrien's bodyguard to mail when he returned. Gabriel had half the mind to attach some kind of strongly-worded note warning Amelie against contacting him again or dropping his name, but he figured it was smartest to quietly give her what she wanted and back away.

Then, he sat on the back steps for the length of a cigarette, making every drag as long as slow as possible, holding it in his lungs until he had to cough it out again. He ditched his suit jacket and his vest and undid the top few buttons of his shirt in order to tolerate the stifling evening. How Adrien managed to make it back home on foot, and so quickly, he didn't understand.

He was unbelievably lucky. Of course, Gabriel would have preferred if Adrien never found out at all, but despite his boiling hatred for the woman, perhaps it was for the best that his son had heard the truth from Amelie, and had heard it away from the house. She had been more honest than he'd expected, and that Adrien stood on the other side of the gate allowed Gabriel to de-escalate as much as possible before they came face to face. Perhaps, it couldn't have gone better. Hawk Moth had been dead for months. Adrien was sensitive to the fact his new sibling was arriving any day. Gabriel had changed. He wasn't the man behind that mask anymore.

But - Gabriel dusted ash off of his pant leg and fanned his face - this was still only the beginning. Adrien hadn't had the time to process this revelation in its entirety, and there was still the matter of explaining what had happened to Emilie since Gabriel had given up the miraculous for good. For the day, he felt, he was safe. But Adrien could wake up tomorrow with new questions and new opinions and new emotions, and although Gabriel was confident he would keep quiet for the time being out of consideration for the baby, that wouldn't eliminate the tension between them. Secrecy, in fact, might even make it worse.

They would have to be careful.

Gabriel finished the cigarette, wanted another, and decided against it. He "quit" long ago. He'd quit for real when the baby was born.

Nathalie was back in bed when he returned to their room, asleep. To ditch the cigarette smell, Gabriel brushed his teeth, showered, and changed, and by the time he'd emerged from the bathroom, she was awake again, blinking groggily at him as he approached the bed.

"What happened?" she said.

"Hm?"

"I heard you yelling." She'd also changed, having gotten back into her pajamas. "A couple hours ago. I was a little too busy throwing up to hear what you were saying, though."

He ran a hand down her face. "You got sick?"

"Yes, some of those glorious first-trimester symptoms are returning to me. The baby wants out, and apparently believes the best way to get that to happen is by making me miserable," she mumbled.

He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. "Any more contractions?"

"Not since I last saw you. I'd be worried if they were already regular. But seriously, Gabriel, what was that about earlier? You sounded very upset."

He wondered how much he could tell her without giving too much away. "Amelie."

"Oh." She frowned.

"She called Adrien and I lost it on her."

"What did she say to Adrien?"

"I don't know." Gabriel walked around to the other side of the bed and reclined next to Nathalie. Lying didn't feel great, but he knew it would feel better than the truth, at least until he knew for sure how Adrien wanted to proceed. "Probably just asking after me again."

"Gabriel, you should really explain to him what's been going on."

"Oh, I have," he muttered.

"You have?"

He tilted his head back towards the ceiling. "When he came home from the pool, we had a talk."

She sat up straighter. "And? How did it go?"

"Not poorly," he answered, relieved for that little bit of truth.

"Well, good. I hope this means you won't let Amelie continue causing problems for you."

"I'm giving her the ring."

Nathalie's eyes stretched wide open. A number of emotions passed across her face that he wasn't quick enough to name. In a small voice, she asked, "You are?"

"Keeping it isn't worth the headache," he explained. "I'd hate to reward her vile behavior, but it's the only way to get her off my back."

"Oh…" Nathalie glanced forward, cupping her hands around her lower belly.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just, well, I didn't expect that." She paused. A quiet whistle glided out to fill the space. Watching her closely, Gabriel wasn't certain what shade of emotion tinted the surprised gleam in her eyes. "How about you, though? Are you okay?"

"Of course." He cleared his throat and repeated in a softer voice, "Of course. She can have the ring. It was just sitting in the safe anyway. I could have given it to Adrien, but at least now she will leave the two of us alone."

"Are you sure?"

"I hope so," he said. Nathalie dropped her head against Gabriel's shoulder and sighed. "We have other things to worry about."

She chuckled. "Yeah, really."

That gentle, contented curve of her lips split his heart. Hiding anything from Nathalie would never feel right. For twelve years, she had worked closely with him; for just under a decade, she had been his most trusted confidant; by now, she had been an assistant, a friend, a partner (in many ways), and a lover. She was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the one who'd been willing to throw her own life away for him when he least deserved it. There had been a lot of truths about himself that he withheld during the rocky months of their relationship, and even in the weeks they spent reconciling, in hopes of protecting her from the less desirable things about him. This was the biggest bombshell he could keep from bursting, the one with the undeniable potential to destroy them both. One year ago, Gabriel would have confessed anything, knowing she would stand by him no matter what it was. Now, he didn't know if she could stand for herself.

It was painful: a burning in his chest longed for the comfort of her listening ear. He didn't know who else to turn to if he couldn't turn to her.

After a few minutes of dreadful silence, he told Nathalie, "Dinner's going to be soon, love. Do you not feel well enough to eat?"

"I'm better than I was earlier," she said. "I'll join the two of you."

It occured to Gabriel only after he asked that this would be the first time he and Adrien would have to sit in the same room together and pretend that nothing was wrong, which seemed to him to be coming far too soon after their first conversation. Maybe, it would be better if they ate separately tonight to avoid drawing Nathalie's suspicion of their current attitudes in each other's presence.

This would be excruciating.

"Sounds great," he replied, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. When Nathalie shut her eyes a minute later, Gabriel discreetly pulled out his phone and asked Adrien what their plan was for dinner.

He really should have ditched his appointment the next morning.

Gabriel had just been starting to feel halfway comfortable during his Tuesday sessions with Richter, but now he felt like he was right back at square one with the man and his invariable temperament. Small, narrow-set eyes studied Gabriel through the screen with such precision despite looking bored almost all of the time, and before his client had even opened his mouth, Richter had picked up on the fact that something was wrong.

"How was your week, Gabriel?"

He asked like he knew. His inflection dropped over the course of those four words, resulting in a tone of sympathy despite the fact he had no way of knowing with what he was sympathizing. Gabriel scowled. Richter wouldn't even need the butterfly miraculous to know how people are feeling at all times, and today that enraged Gabriel. It scared him too.

"I am sure that Nathalie is nearing labor. She hasn't felt very well this week." The only way he could tolerate this next hour would be if they avoided even scratching the surface of his current mood.

"And how are you feeling about that? You mentioned last time that you and your son have been working on the nursery together. Do you feel ready?"

And of course, it took not even thirty seconds for Adrien to be brought up. Gabriel broadened his shoulders and stonily answered, "Hardly ready. It's been a long time since there's been a baby in the house. But I am eager to meet my child. We finished the nursery several days ago."

"Did Nathalie like it?"

"She tends to dislike surprises. And secrets," Gabriel answered quietly. "But she liked this one."

They talked about the nursery for longer than necessary, and dwelt on the baby's arrival for almost half of their time, but still, though Richter had yet to press, Gabriel could see it in the man's face that he sensed they weren't discussing the glaring issue. His troubles must have glowed in his eyes like traffic lights, and Richter was following each signal. Somehow, every few minutes, he asked a question that circled back to Adrien, even if the question wasn't particularly about him.

"You know, Gabriel," Richter said, setting down his pen and removing his reading glasses. They were about forty minutes in, and finally, the doctor's voice was sharpening. He'd worn down Gabriel for long enough with his silent but outrageously overt and thorough recognition of his current mentality. "These virtual sessions do make it a little bit more challenging to gauge body language, but I have noticed that every time I bring up your son, you look down. Here." Richter held up his notepad. A series of tally marks had been scratched across the corner of the page. "Eight times I have mentioned Adrien. Eight times your typically steady eye contact has faltered."

Gabriel snorted, incredulous.

"Is there a reason for this?"

"There is tension between the two of us at the moment," he muttered.

"Tension. What kind of tension? I hope it isn't about the nursery." This might have been a joke, but Richter's voice was so dry that it was impossible to tell.

"No. Not about the nursery at all."

"Then, what?"

Gabriel shook his head. "You know my late wife's sister."

"Yes, she's come up a few times."

"She contacted my son with some unfavorable things to say about me."

Richter raised an eyebrow. "And Adrien has reacted poorly to these."

"Frankly, as well as one might expect."

"Oh?"

Gabriel should have stopped talking. He should have changed the subject. Or started lying.

"My sister-in-law is aware of things about me I hadn't assumed she'd known. She informed my son yesterday about these things - well, it's one thing, really - and since yesterday evening when my son confronted me about it, I have otherwise not seen or spoken to him. He took dinner alone in his room, because he did not wish to be within earshot of me. And although he agreed to maintain secrecy about the situation between us, I do not know one hundred percent that he will keep his word, at least for very long."

Stop. Stop talking.

"More importantly, I don't know if he has it in him to act as though everything is ordinary between us, and this concerns me because if Nathalie found out what is going on, I am sure she would suffer for it. Not only that, I wish to prevent her from speculating that anything is wrong, because I worry she would find herself severely anxious over the mere possibility of discord between Adrien and myself."

"If that is the case, then perhaps you should be honest with her."

"I can't. Not yet," Gabriel said.

"Does she know about this 'unfavorable thing'?"

"She does."

"So, you are not worried that she would be upset about it, specifically."

"She would be upset about Adrien, or anyone for that matter, knowing.

"Why is this? Does it involve her as well?"

He needed to be more cautious. Nathalie wasn't getting involved in this. No way in hell. "The conflict this would bring about would cause her distress, and that is best avoided when she is so near to giving birth."

"Yes, that's understandable. Do you intend to keep this from her as long as possible?"

Gabriel nodded.

"You've shown a lot of concern in the past about dedicating yourself to this relationship with Nathalie. Aren't you worried that hiding this could harm it?"

"When it comes to it, I will tell her. But not now. Not soon. And I don't know how to approach Adrien anymore to ensure that we continue to be on the same page."

Richter entered some deep thought, raising his hand to his chin to stroke his sandy gray beard. His dull eyes flicked between the camera and the screen, and then he said, "Gabriel, I can guess that whatever this 'thing' is that you're referring to is egregious, given your lack of specificity, but I don't know how successfully I can help you without knowing what it is you have done."

Shit. He'd said too much.

"It's reasonable that if this is something you are ashamed of, that you would want to withhold specifics, but I want to remind you that client confidentiality law dictates that I cannot disclose any details of our sessions to anybody unless you pose an imminent threat to yourself or others."

"I'm aware."

"Do you pose an imminent threat to yourself or others?"

"Not at all."

"So, I will leave that offer on the table. You can tell me if you wish, and I can help you more effectively. I am required by law not to break confidentiality."

Time halted. Gabriel stared at the screen. Richter's unblinking eyes pierced through the miles of distance between them and flared through Gabriel's soul. He didn't know, but he looked like he did. He looked like he knew everything and was only waiting for Gabriel to say it out loud. That's what was so infuriating about him. He didn't have to apply pressure. He didn't have to dig. He made Gabriel feel as if he might as well share because he'd read him like a book the moment their cameras switched on and knew the story front to back. Fazed by nothing.

There was so much that Gabriel hadn't said up to this point, about Emilie's death and Amelie's obsession with the rings and his betrayal of Nathalie and this. This, which had lived so far out of the question that sometimes Hawk Moth's name wouldn't even cross Gabriel's mind as he sat through some of these elusive sessions. But wasn't this the root of every offshoot of conflict and tension that plagued him to this day (beyond whatever childhood trauma he and Richter had already discussed. There was more of it that Gabriel anticipated)? Wouldn't they continue to go in circles week after week until Gabriel allowed them to turn around and face the center?

He couldn't talk to Nathalie, who he would hurt with this. He couldn't talk to Emilie, who he had only pretended could listen. He couldn't talk to Adrien, who wasn't on his side, not yet.

And Hawk Moth wasn't under any sort of official criminal investigation by the government, not while the Guardians of the Miraculous claimed all authority over magical transgressions unless otherwise delegated. That's not to say they wouldn't foam at the mouth to gain some intel on Hawk Moth's identity, but it's not like Richter had any lawful obligation to inform them.

That, of course, made him absurdly lucky.

What was Gabriel even paying a therapist for if he couldn't tell him all the things he couldn't tell anybody else?

"Doctor," he said, "How shocked would you have to be to break confidentiality?"

A spark of amusement lit up an otherwise perfectly straight and expressionless face. "You could shock me half to death, and I would not. I've been doing this for fifteen years, Gabriel. I've heard things. I cannot say what they are, though." The wooden plank of a man actually winked.

The heart that had leaped up to Gabriel's throat almost stopped him from saying it. The man he'd been only months ago would have died before confessing.

But he looked directly at the camera and said, "I was Hawk Moth."

For about five seconds, Richter did not believe him. Either that, or the words were taking their sweet time sinking in.

Gabriel failed to break his stare. With a completely earnest expression, he continued to look into that camera, waiting on a response.

Then, Richter inhaled briskly. He did something Gabriel had never seen him do before and reclined in the leather armchair he was sitting in. He folded his arms. He tilted his head.

"Were you?"

Maybe it was at the sheer madness of his choice, but Gabriel glanced down and smirked. "Yes," he said. "And I will never be again."

Another long pause.

"Hm. One moment." Richter stayed on camera, but he closed his eyes and sat perfectly still for about seven minutes. Gabriel watched the clock. They surely would not have enough time left in their session to talk about this, but even if the length of it had been tripled, he was still doubtful that would suffice.

"So, let's see if I understand this," the doctor said, opening his eyes and sitting forward again very suddenly. He grabbed the notepad off his lap and started flipping through the pages. "Your wife fell gravely ill, according to you, a little under three years ago. Hawk Moth made his first appearance a little under two years ago. You probably tried a number of solutions that didn't help her and resorted to becoming a Hawk Moth, so you could find Ladybug and Chat Noir's miraculous and use their power to cure her sickness."

Gabriel blinked, stunned. "Well, yes."

"Assuming you are, at least, a halfway reasonable man, those dots aren't too hard to connect. I have had a window into your psychology for the past ten weeks, remember." Richter sounded more animated than Gabriel had ever heard him before, speaking too quickly to maintain whatever semblance of a French accent he had. "We've discussed your fear of change in depth, we've connected it to your wife's illness, her disappearance, talked about how severely those things have affected you. Why else would you have been Hawk Moth? What other cause would have been worth the risk?"

"I'm impressed," said Gabriel. "Had my sister-in-law not told my son what I was doing this for, I don't know if he would have guessed so easily."

"Right, your son." Richter stopped flipping the pages of his notepad and picked up his pen. "So he knows about this now. And he knows why you'd done it. How did he react, apart from what you've already told me?"

"Better than I expected." Gabriel remarked, "Though not as well as you."

"To be transparent with you, Gabriel, I am startled and bewildered out of my mind," said Richter. "But in an effort to maintain my professionalism for the five minutes we have remaining, I will deal with it later. Goodness," he added, in English.

All they managed to do in those five minutes was go back over the story Gabriel had told him, this time with their new context. Richter was slower to react, clearly fighting through his shock to make these last minutes worthwhile, and as uneasy as Gabriel felt having the truth out in the open, and his motivations read clear as day, part of him did wonder if he should have done this sooner. Maybe he could have better prepared to manage the tension with Adrien.

"If my previous assurances were not enough for you," Richter said, as they were signing off, "You can believe that one of the reasons I will be upholding confidentiality law is because only a fool would pass up the chance of being Hawk Moth's therapist."

Gabriel couldn't help it. He chuckled.

Maybe Richter was a funny guy after all.

"Son."

"Father."

It was eerie, the way yesterday repeated itself before Gabriel's eyes. He watched Adrien stalk into the atelier in the early afternoon and sit in the same spot he'd sat the day before, on the stairs ascending partway to the display wall. In the shadow of the last twenty-four hours, Adrien's countenance was darkened by a stern glare that hardly budged.

"You've taken some time to think," Gabriel prompted.

"Yeah."

"And, how do you feel?"

"The same. Angry and confused."

Gabriel hadn't even seen him since 5 PM the day before, which, maybe only a couple months ago, wouldn't have been unusual at all. But since the summer began, and they had started working on the nursery as a shared project, they'd seen a lot more of each other. They certainly talked more, anyway. The worst part now was laying his eyes on Adrien and noticing that nothing had seemed to change between last evening and the present moment. Nothing at all, if he was to view that shadow in his face for what it looked like. Dropping his gaze, Gabriel sighed and gave a stiff nod. "I understand."

Today was just as sunny as the last, the light reflecting off Gabriel's screen in familiar patches. The last they spoke under normal circumstances, Adrien told his father that he was proud of how much he had grown.

Gabriel asked, "Have you spoken to Nathalie today?"

His son shook his head.

"She tried to have breakfast with you this morning," he added, "since you didn't eat with us last night."

And she'd fretted to him about it when three separate knocks on the door went unanswered. He'd tried to reassure her.

"Perhaps, the situation with Amelie upset him. I'm sure he couldn't have been pleased to learn his aunt was practically tormenting me," he'd suggested, clasping her hand. "Or maybe something happened with his friends yesterday."

Nathalie wouldn't stop looking at the door. "We should talk to him."

"He'll be fine. Give him space."

"He's not angry with me, is he?"

"No, of course not."

She'd squeezed his fingers. Briefly, a flicker of blue sent ice rippling through his blood. "Is he angry with you?"

Gabriel took a long sip of his coffee. "Not that I know of, my dear."

No wonder he'd decided to be so honest with Richter. Lying to Nathalie was torture.

"I'd rather her not see me when I still feel so…" Adrien searched for the word. "Thrown."

"I hope you'll talk to her soon. It will soothe her worries. You can ask about the baby. I know it won't be easy to hide this, but it's imperative for the time being."

"I know." Adrien oriented his body in Gabriel's direction. "I came in here to ask you something."

Gabriel had a sense he already knew. He dipped his head. "What is it?"

"What…" Adrien struggled to force out the words. They toppled from his throat like stones overturned. "What exactly did you do - with Mom? After the magic killed her?"

"That oversimplifies it," Gabriel sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"She died only two months ago."

Adrien winced. "What?"

"May 5." Gabriel's windpipe constricted. He paused to gather himself and wrench it open before he went on. "Before that, she was in this deep, endless sleep. A sleep she couldn't wake from without magical interference. But she could breathe. She had a pulse. A slow one. Until…" His voice faltered. "I let her go."

"Where was she?"

"Under the house. Years ago, when you were young, we built a repository. There is an underground garden, where I raised my butterflies. Your mother is buried there."

Adrien was pale.

"I'm sorry, son."

"There...there really wasn't another way to help her?"

"I looked for one. I did." Gabriel removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Magic was the only way. Powerful magic. I regretted that you weren't there to say goodbye to her, Adrien, when I'd decided it was time. It hurts to say, but I had to let her go in order to move forward with my new life, our new family. If there was a way you could have been there, without my worst fears coming true, I would have made sure of it."

Sniffling, Adrien chewed on his inner cheek.

He looked like he was about to leave the room.

But then, he asked to see her.

Gabriel could not rightly deny him, as much as he wished he could invite Adrien down under much better circumstances than this. Without a word, he stepped off of his podium and brushed aside the curtain. The arrangement of now unconcealed buttons hovered amidst a bundle of exposed wires like a labyrinth of blood vessels. Gabriel had to be careful when he opened the safe door not to disturb them too much.

"Whoa," Adrien exclaimed, now on his feet. "What is…?"

"They activate the lift."

"What lift? What did you do with Mom's…?"

He trailed off as Gabriel beckoned him over and directed him to stand before the row of buttons. He told his son, "I'm going to stand right behind you. It's a tight fit."

Once in position, Gabriel sank his fingers into the mechanisms, and Adrien gasped as the floor opened up beneath them. They descended into blackness for a second of frozen shock, before the light seeped in from below, a trickle of dull gold across their feet that suddenly surged upwards as they plunged into the repository.

Adrien stumbled off the platform as soon as they reached their landing, gaze flying across every corner of the giant room. His mouth hung open. His legs wobbled. He blinked as if to smear it away like a dream.

"I can't believe-!"

"It's a lot to absorb, I know."

"This whole time? This room has been here this whole time?"

"Yes, it has." Gabriel nodded towards the other end of the repository, and Adrien turned his head to stare across the iron walkway. "I'll understand if you don't want me over there with you."

Before the thick, tall screen of bushes dappled with dying flowers and a few remaining pearl-white butterflies, Emilie's grave stuck out against the green. The hole hadn't been filled perfectly. The ground was uneven, and the flat-bottomed stone that marked the site sat at a bit of an angle. Adrien noticed it quickly, evident by the emerald flare of his eyes, but he didn't make a move. His shoulders hung almost as high as his ears. Gabriel could imagine the shiver in his bones right now.

"Or if this is too much..." he murmured.

"No," Adrien said thickly. "No, I want to."

"With me, or alone?"

"With-" Adrien reached back and wrapped his fingers around Gabriel's forearm. "With you."

They walked across together. Each pulse of his heart sent a dull pang radiating down Gabriel's entire body as he witnessed the persistent hardness in his son's visage split apart piece by piece, until he was a rough surface of emotion tossing shards of ice between waves. Beat after beat of grief and confusion and remorse and simple, real childlike sadness, washing up and down and sideways through Adrien in a matter of seconds.

He stopped where there began the unsteady slope of the earth. The toes of his sneakers stirred the dirt.

In neat, swirling chalk letters, Gabriel had written on the stone,

Emilie Adrienne Marie Graham de Vanily Agreste
May 31, 1977 - May 5, 2017

Adrien's voice, small as it was, rocked the ground beneath his father's feet: "Hi, Mom."

He sat down, cross-legged, and watched the butterflies.

"I'm glad I could actually say goodbye."

Gabriel, unable to stifle his tears, backed away a number of paces and turned the other way. Rigid as he stood, with his shoulders square and his hands behind his back, Gabriel felt himself wavering on the inside.

He didn't know if he should walk away. Adrien wasn't telling him to. As much as he tried not to listen to his son's soft words, he could not focus enough on tracing the high ceiling beams with his watery stare to tune him out.

"I hope you're at peace now. Things are a little crazy out here." A breath, then a sad chuckle. "I can't believe you've been down here the whole time. I would have come to visit sooner if I'd known. I miss talking to you. There's some good news. I'm going to be an older brother very soon, just like I always used to pester you about when I was little. I must have been so annoying about it. But I'm really excited now."

Gabriel dabbed his eyes. A trembling smile pulled at his lips.

"There's other good news too, since it's been such a long time, but...I'll tell you all of that later. I need a few more days, I think. Or weeks" Gabriel heard him patting the earth. "A lot's on my mind. I'm worried about the future. I wish you were here to help me sort it out, but - I'll work on it. Now you know, at least, I'm doing alright. As well as I can be. I love you." His voice broke. He sobbed. "Thank you for everything, Mama."

Grabbing the railing with one hand, Gabriel tamed his own emotions as best he could, and allowed his son the space to cry for several silent minutes. The other fell across his chest, feeling every twitch of his body as his heart pumped powerfully with the force of his grief.

Thank you for everything, Emilie.

When he was finished, Adrien was on his feet, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Let's go," he muttered.

Back in the atelier, Gabriel swallowed the lump in his throat and said delicately, "You can go down there, whenever you want."

"Really? You'll let me?"

"You should be allowed to. She's your mother. Just let me know."

"Okay. Thank you, Father." Adrien almost didn't look at him. He'd started making for the door without sparing another narrow glimpse, but just as he was reaching for the handle, he paused. Some light glowed out from within and paled his splotchy skin. He dropped his hand and turned around.

"Is something wrong?" asked Gabriel.

"No, I - I have something else to say. Something I was meaning to say when I came in."

"Well?"

"I didn't say it because I know you're not going to like it. But if I put it off now, I'll put it off forever, and it's really important."

Gabriel frowned. "Go on, then. Say it."

"I'm just warning you-"

"We're past those kinds of worries, don't you think?"

Adrien blinked at him, rubbing his fingers together. "I guess so," he mumbled. "Okay."

"What did you want to tell me?"

Taking a couple steps back towards his father again, that dark, clear look vitrified in his face once more. He lowered his voice, and Gabriel had to lean forward to make out the words as he sharply whispered, "I know you said you didn't want to tell anyone, but I think I have a plan."

Chapter Text

Their room was flushed orange. In the east, a screen of smoky clouds broke to let the ascending light glare through. It was the middle of summer, and everything burned; everything dripped with sweat and rain and gold. Nathalie could smell the city through the windows. It was early. She barely slept.

The sun rose gray that morning before its eye blinked past the veil, high enough to illuminate their room, low enough to glow like fire. Nathalie's eyelids fluttered as sleep started to pull back into its cool, heavy hug, but Gabriel moved beside her. A leg straightened, toes grazing down her calf. In a moment, she was alert once more, and reaching for his arm.

She thought, What a pretty sight to wake to.

After turning her body around, she leaned over and pressed her lips to Gabriel's brow bone. The smell of cedar still clung to his hair from his shower the night before, and he turned his head her way. Again, she kissed him, closer to his mouth, and watched his stone blue eyes appear, slowly coming to focus on her face now hovering inches from his own. Haloed in rusty sun, Nathalie whispered, "Happy Birthday."

He smiles. A hand, warm and rough, brushed down the side of her face as he murmured, "Good morning." Sleep stuck to his voice. The rasp in his throat stirred the butterflies, and she ran a soft circle into his chest. "You're glowing," he said.

With a chuckle, Nathalie held her lips close enough to his, that as she spoke, they touched. "It's the sunrise."

"No sunrise compares."

Curling his fingers into the subtle, sleep-shaped wave of her hair, he kissed her hungrily. Nathalie gave in return, and then, stroking her hand down his upper body, increased the intensity of the moment. Gabriel sighed into her. She felt him melt. Together, they folded into place, Gabriel guiding them upward, into the light, Nathalie leaning back. When they broke, her eyes gleamed through the shadows on her face.

"You're wide awake now," she remarked.

She dove in again to kiss his jaw and throat, and Gabriel gently pushed her down onto the pillows, eliciting a floaty laugh.

"Really, now?"

"What?" He winked at her. "Is this not what you had in mind?"

She linked her fingers behind his neck. "Take it slow."

He lined her collarbones with kisses to start, one had traveling lower. Nathalie's heart throbbed. She softened beneath the warmth of his earthy breath while her spine tingled pleasurably.

Then, he was reaching up under her shirt to feel for her waistband when she sucked the air in through her teeth, breaking their shared rhythm of breath, and shoved his shoulder.

"Shit," she growled. Gabriel sat back, removing his hand and watching her with big, frightened eyes as she grimaced through the attempt to push herself upright.

Quickly, all too quickly, the moment shattered. Nathalie squinted through the haze of morning, clutching at the bedsheets.

Gabriel swept back some messy strands of silver hair from his forehead. "Is this - are you -"

"Yeah," she groaned, the air barely leaving her lungs.

"Breathe. Remember, you're supposed to breathe through it."

"I'm breathing." Just enough to speak. Some of the pain was in her lower back, and that was a new sensation. Nathalie pinched her eyes shut and slowly pumped her legs.

It passed after about half a minute. Nathalie relaxed and rubbed the places where her muscles were still tight.

"Maybe it's time," Gabriel suggested, taking her wrist.

"No, it's not. They're still too far apart."

"They're getting stronger. I can tell you're in pain."

"They're also getting a little closer, but still not close enough." Nathalie heaved a deep breath. "Believe me, I've been keeping track all night."

He murmured, "It felt so sudden with Adrien, so fast."

"Not with this one?"

"The way I remember it, which granted, is a little fuzzy to begin with after all the excitement of the day, Emilie went into labor like that." He snapped. "Like it happened without warning. You and I have been on our toes for days."

"It's different for everybody," she grumbled, running a hand down her swollen midsection. "For how long was Emilie in labor?"

"Felt like minutes. She remembered it as six or seven hours."

"Lucky woman."

He reached and gave her belly a quick rub. "But that's what I'm saying, Nathalie. You've been in pain a while now."

"That's a little dramatic. It's uncomfortable. I'm fine."

"There are ways to speed it up," he said. "Moving around helps."

"I-" Nathalie bit her lip and looked out the window. "I don't know."

He came a little closer and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Nathalie."

"Hm."

"It's going to be okay." She felt a kiss near the top of her head, and he lightly tugged her to relax against his body. "You'll want this to be over sooner rather than later."

"You say that, but it's a little early for me to be in labor."

"Only by two weeks. Dr. Travert said you're measuring big, remember."

"I'm not ready."

"I know-"

"I'm scared," she admitted.

Gabriel rubbed her arm. "I know. So am I, but lucky for us, that's the only thing we have to worry about, right? The only thing."

"It's a pretty intense thing," she replied.

"Y-yes, but…" He shifted, fingers pausing. "I'm just grateful for how much our circumstances have improved. This baby is all that matters right now."

It struck her as a slightly odd thing to say, primarily paired with his tone of voice, which just as much sounded like he was trying to convince himself as he was trying to convince her.

"Are you sure about that?" she murmured.

"Why would I not be?"

"I don't know."

She was getting nervous. Over nothing. Again.

Softly, Gabriel's touch traveled down her right arm until his fingers slipped through the wide gaps in her outstretched hand, still tensely splayed across the comforter. Nathalie glanced back at him, catching on the details in his face now that the light was yellowing. Lord, was she in love with that silvery burnish of his gaze, with the way his hair fell between his eyes when unstyled, with the cut of his cheekbones widening as he smiled. Now, he watched her with straight-faced concern, and to see that smile, she reached and brushed a fingertip beneath his chin, drawing out a low, throaty chuckle.

She loved his voice too.

Whispering, tracing her finger from his chin up to the end of his mandible, she told him, "42 looks good on you."

"Does it?"

"Yes. Excellent."

"Are you sure I don't look old?" he grumbled.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with old, but no, not to me." She brushed a little at the stubble on his cheek.

"Thanks for reminding me I need to shave."

"I don't dislike it on you."

They remained in bed for a little longer, until the sun had ascended back into the clouds and dimmed the room again. In the gray, Gabriel pushed aside their covers and left her with another kiss before heading to the bathroom to ready himself for the day, his day. Over his dress shirt, he paired a black waistcoat and a deep blue suit jacket, an outfit that Nathalie had previously told him brought out the color in his eyes, and it really did. She stared at him as he walked out, as he leaned to grab a new pair of black leather shoes from the closet, and as he laced them up, stealing a glance her way and smirking when their eyes met.

Why did she worry? Why did she ever worry?

In a moment, she would find out that she wondered too soon.

As Gabriel added the finishing touches to his ensemble, including a light spritz of cologne and golden lapel pin engraved with the silhouette of the French Alps, near which he'd grown up, Nathalie fished for her own outfit from the closet, and pulled out a midnight blue wrap dress she hoped would pair nicely with his jacket.

"I think I'll change a little later," she remarked, when he saw what she was holding.

He fiddled with the buttons of his sleeves. "That's an awfully nice dress considering…"

"I'm huge?"

"No, that you could go into labor at any moment."

"Maybe, but I want to dress well today."

"You're going to be there?" Gabriel asked. "At dinner?"

"Oh, I don't know," she answered, dropping the dress on their bed. "I shouldn't be going out, right?"

"Well, I figured that. I cancelled the reservation a couple days ago, but we worked out an alternative here at home."

"Then, yes, of course I'll be there."

It would have made sense if he'd been pleased by that, but the weight of his sigh sank deeper than pleasure. He sounded relieved. He sounded like he feared that she wouldn't have joined them, and this snagged her attention like a hangnail on yarn.

"Gabriel," she said, stepping closer and gently twisting his pin to position the engraving upright.

"Yes?"

"Is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know you have seemed a little on edge lately."

"Nathalie, you're having a baby. Of course I'm 'on edge'."

He was deflecting. His eyes flicked over to the window.

"Everything else is fine."

"You don't seem sure about that." Nathalie thumbed his lapel and spent a moment studying his face. "Is this about Adrien?"

He looked back on her, poorly masking this alarm in his face. "Adrien? Why him?"

"He's still upset, isn't he? About Amelie's phone call?" She'd been thinking about that call for the last two days, and would have asked Adrien about it by now if he didn't seem to be avoiding her. After trying to bring it up last night, Gabriel changed the subject, and she hadn't the energy at the moment to push back. She asked again, hoping for a real answer this time, "What did she say to him?"

"Nathalie…"

"Unless this is about something else entirely. Something you're not telling me."

His hesitation made her heart sink.

"You are not telling me something."

"We have…" He took her hands and ran his thumbs across her knuckles. "Bigger things to worry about."

"Well, what small things are you keeping from me?" she asked.

"I can handle it," he said, giving her a strained smile.

"Really?" Nathalie's hands were limp in his grip. "You were almost completely silent at dinner last night, and then when you came up for bed later, you wouldn't talk to me about Adrien at all. It doesn't sound like you're handling it."

He took a deep breath and tried to guide her to sit down, but Nathalie firmly remained standing. "I am, day by day." He softened his voice, peering at her tenderly. "Will you trust me to do so?"

Something inside of Nathalie withered a little. She wanted to believe the earnestness in his gaze but there were creatures in her head taking flight, stirring through the corridors she'd spent weeks trying to block off, avenues she'd wanted to close to hazardous thoughts. Her throat went dry as she asked, "Don't you trust me?"

"With my life," he replied, grabbing her face between his hands. "With all my life, Nathalie, every second of it."

"Then why can't you…?" She stopped to prevent her voice from breaking.

"It's not to do with me trusting you. I do trust you. Adrien and I have a problem," he admitted, and though it offered a shred of relief to hear him say it aloud, it wasn't enough to stop Nathalie's heart from jumping up to her throat. "And the problem is not about you, alright? It's about me. We've run into a disagreement, but we will work it out, and I promise, we will tell you as soon as we do. I just didn't want you to distress yourself over it," he murmured.

"Don't you think it distresses me not to be aware that something is wrong?" she asked. "The fact that you think knowing would be worse..."

He blinked at her apologetically, silver eyebrows upturned as he ran his thumbs in coin-sized circles across her cheeks. "I don't want it to distract you, love."

"I am distracted."

"This is why I've been telling you, the only thing you have to worry about is delivering the baby. I really mean that. Adrien and I will be fine, I can assure you." He tried to kiss her forehead, but Nathalie pulled away now, turning halfway towards the window. "I'm sorry, Nathalie. The last thing I want is to upset you. It's a complicated situation, and with the baby on the way, there's not an easy solution. But give it time. It will work out."

Maybe she didn't want to know what he was talking about. The last hope on her mind was to find out if those whispers scraping through the open channels in her head were right.

"It's not about me?" she murmured.

"No, not really."

"Not really." Her stare slit through the air. "But it's about you?"

He nodded. "Adrien and I don't always see eye to eye. You know this."

"You used to ask me for advice on the matter," she said softly.

"Because I never knew how to proceed. I do this time." He tried to step closer to her again, but her stance was closed off.

"I'm sorry. I'll try to take your word for it," she told him. "I can trust that you'll manage it, but I don't understand why I can't know what you and Adrien are at odds over."

"There are more important places towards which to focus your energy."

"No need to remind me again," she muttered.

Nathalie waddled over to the sofa and sat down with a lengthy, deliberate sigh, trying to breathe the thoughts out of her head, trying to scatter dust from slate and leave in blank. But it all came billowing back.

"You were glad I'm going to be there," she remarked.

"What?"

"At dinner. You don't want to be alone there with Adrien. You don't want to talk about this with him. Is that what you mean by 'handling this?'"

She felt him staring at the back of her head. He said nothing.

There was only one thing her mind let her imagine was the cause of their disagreement. Only one thing that would be severe enough to hide from her.

The same thing they quarrelled over for months.

It isn't about you, she told herself.

But it never was, was it? It was always about Gabriel, about his inability to move on, about his repulsion towards change. Nathalie could have been anyone, as long as she was anyone else. Anyone other than Emilie.

No, she was being stupid again.

"I need to…" Speaking like she was out of breath, Nathalie tried to force the panic out of her head long enough to finish a sentence or a few. "I need to shower. And get ready. Or maybe go back to sleep. I'm tired."

"It's still early," her partner said quietly. "Nathalie?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. I'm sorry."

He loves you. He's sorry.

"I'll talk to Adrien about this as soon as possible. I want you to be happy."

He wants you to be happy. Everything is fine, isn't it?

Her cheeks ballooned and then she blew the air out slowly. Glancing over her shoulder at Gabriel, she forced a smile and a little nod.

Gabriel left the room for breakfast, and instead of showering like she said she would, Nathalie let the water run hot for ten minutes while she stood at the mirror, trying to not look herself in the eye. She didn't want to lose her steel grip on the countertop. She didn't want her feet to leave the bath mat or slide across the cool tile floor. Her head carried the weight of her foolish and unbreakable troubles. Lies she didn't believe. Lies she couldn't escape. Sometimes it was just easier to let them sweep her away than to put the effort into blocking out their every grating shout.

He's just trying to make it easier for you, when he tells you he's changed his mind. A lie. A lie that started to carry her away from the earth.

It's not true, that small, rational corner of her head would whisper above the cacophony. Adrien would hardly leave you alone before you and Gabriel resumed your relationship. If his father was having doubts, he wouldn't avoid you.

But the noise won out. It always did. It justified itself. It told her, He's avoiding you because Gabriel told him to, because Gabriel doesn't want you to expect what's wrong.

Maybe he lied about giving back the ring -

No, he didn't -

Maybe Amelie never called. Nathalie shook her head violently, like she could knock the words out of her brain. Such stupid words. She never harassed him. He told you that to make you believe he'd have a reason to surrender the ring -

"Stop," she said aloud. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. "Please. Please, stop."

He wasn't going to abandon her. He loved her. She knew this.

But her brain knew how to imagine that he didn't, in such blinding clarity that she had to cover her face.

Nathalie couldn't shower. She couldn't allow herself the space to think. She turned off the water and returned to bed, putting on a podcast to listen to until she could fall asleep and swallow all her fears in slumber.

She was pretty sure she was in labor now.

Another contraction ebbed and she reached for her phone to call her doctor. Nathalie paced around the room in bare feet and her blue dress, with unbrushed hair and glasses pushed up to the top of her head. Nine minutes apart. That's how they were spaced. As Dr. Travert would tell her, not frequent enough for the hospital, but she would be there soon and they needed to get ready.

"Keep timing them. Do a last minute check of your hospital bag," Travert said. "And we'll see you soon."

Nathalie's throat was too tight to offer a reply, so she just hung up.

All day, she could have left the room, but something anchored Nathalie between its walls for hours. On this side of the fastened door, she felt safer, out of the way of a world her darkest thoughts painted in shadow. All was well. And all would be well forever as long as she never checked to see if somehow, for some outrageous reason, it wasn't. Her frightful fantasies could never become reality as long as she never gave them the space to take form.

But now, she faced the door, pressing her cell phone to her thigh, considering the notion that when she next left this room, she'd come back with a child in her arms…

Her child.

She was about to become a mother.

Barely capable of keeping herself afloat.

Distrusting of her partner and her own mind.

And the last time she held a baby, she was eight.

Oh, God.

Nathalie felt scared and weak and sick and like she might either pass out or start crying, so she dropped herself onto the sofa. A string of breathless curses tumbled from between her lips as she struggled to keep her thumbs from shaking, typing out a text to Gabriel. He'd come back to their room some time while she was asleep, turned off the light in the bathroom she'd left on and set a bowl of sliced strawberries on the bedside table she ended up leaving untouched. The corner of a post-it note was pinned beneath the bowl, reading in ball-point ink, I'll be in the atelier. I love you.

Since she woke, she'd tried to get ready for the day, never getting farther than the dress and the mascara before the contractions strengthened and fell into a regular pattern. It was 1:30 PM. She'd been timing them for hours now.

At last she had the bravery to send, Will you bring the bag down to the car? I think it's time.

It's time, she thought. We're having a baby. And we love each other. And everything's okay.

Enough time passed that she had another contraction, and she hadn't received a reply, nor heard him coming up the stairs. She should have breathed through it, but she didn't, and when it was over, she walked light-headed to the door and opened it into the bright, daunting world.

"Gabriel?" she called.

No response but the echo of her own voice through the atrium.

Nathalie grabbed the hospital bag and began dragging it through the upper hall. It wasn't heavy, but her arms and legs had turned to clay some time in the last nine minutes, and if she bore all the weight of it, she feared she'd bend and fall.

She paused at the top of the stairs. One of Adrien's bedroom doors was wide open. Empty.

Nor did he answer her when she called, but then again, her voice was lodged halfway down her throat.

A little louder, her breath catching and cracking, she said, "Someone help."

Not loud enough.

Nathalie descended the staircase slowly and crossed over to the atelier. With a low thump, the bag dropped onto the marble as she reached for the door handle.

"If you want to resolve this, you'll need to hear me out," she heard Adrien say from within.

She clasped the handle. But she didn't push, because the boy had added -

"Nathalie doesn't have to know about it. That's what you're worried about, right?"

Fist hardening, Nathalie froze.

Gabriel was speaking. Too quiet for her to make out the words.

She gently cracked open the door by an inch.

"...and your suggestion involves bringing others into the fold. Very crucial others. The last people who should be made aware," he finished, his tone harsh enough to graze against Nathalie's spine.

"No, they-they don't have to know who you are. This is why you should have listened to me yesterday. I have it all figured it out, I swear."

"I don't care if your 'plan' is foolproof, Adrien. This will wait."

"How long?"

"As long as it needs to."

"But-"

"No buts."

"Father," Adrien said, stamping his foot in a rare display of anger that made Nathalie wince. "It's not that I don't think the baby is more important, I do. You know I do! But I'm nervous."

"Over what?"

"That you'll never want to address this. That you'll put it off as long as you can and use the baby as an excuse."

This stunned Gabriel. Nathalie couldn't see him, but she could feel his shock in the silence.

Then, he murmured, "I would never 'use' the baby for anything."

"You wouldn't listen to me yesterday. You heard one word you didn't like and shut me down."

"One word was enough."

"You were all ears one second and then the next it was, 'Forget it. The baby's coming soon.' I know that. I'm trying to make this easier, so we don't have it looming over our heads once they're born. There's only one thing you have to do, Father. It could take ten seconds, and you'd leave the rest to me. Why wouldn't you want it to be over that quickly? I don't want the first days or weeks or months of their life to be soured by the fact that you just won't listen."

Nathalie was astonished to hear Adrien speaking to Gabriel this way. He sounded so...furious and afraid and desperate, the words chopping out rapidly.

"Please, Father?" he begged. "Please hear what I have to say. Then we can put this behind us for good."

Gabriel scoffed. "Do you really mean that? Somehow, I doubt it will be that easy, Adrien."

"Well, at any rate, listening to me now will make it easier."

The pause between them lasted so long that Nathalie almost stepped into the room. She leaned forward, aligning her gaze with the gap in the door and catching a sliver of Adrien standing in the middle of the room, facing such a direction that she could not fully read the emotion on his face. Only the corner of his eye and mouth was visible. She nearly said his name, but it faded into a faint exhale as Gabriel broke the silence with a low but thunderous reply.

"Fine, you have my attention." She wished she could see him. "Explain to me how involving Ladybug could possibly improve this situation for any of us."

Nathalie flinched. Ladybug?

"We wouldn't involve her, exactly," Adrien said. "She wouldn't know anything she shouldn't. I just think - maybe for the peace of mind of everyone - that the responsible thing to do would be to return the miraculous to her, the rightful guardian."

"That doesn't sound like it could go poorly," Gabriel sneered.

Stumbling back from the door a pace, Nathalie's stomach contorted into a firm knot. A hand shot up to cover her mouth the small, shocked noise that tried to leave. At first, she didn't know if they'd heard her, but the exchange continued after a moment, and Nathalie grabbed the wall, legs shaking.

"Father, all you have to do is give me the butterfly and peacock miraculous. I'll handle the rest," she heard Adrien saying. His voice sounded much further than a room away.

"What exactly is this rest?"

"I'll give them to Ladybug. Personally. I'll tell her that I found them somewhere, maybe even play dumb and pretend not to know if they're even the real thing."

"It doesn't sound as though you've thought this all through the way you claim," his father grumbled.

"I have. Trust me, Father, I know what to do."

"Adrien, do you honestly believe that Ladybug and Chat Noir could receive those miraculous without questioning what happened to us?"

"What are they going to do about it?" Adrien asked. "They wouldn't have proof of anything."

"They'd have you," Gabriel said.

This might have been worse than the lies Nathalie had been telling herself all day. Adrien discovering that she and Gabriel had been Paris's most dangerous supervillains was a possibility that had not even grazed her thoughts. Knowing her own mind, if it had, she would have tortured herself with it. She would have second guessed every green-eyed glance and witty remark, inventing a hidden meaning behind it all. And unlike Gabriel, who in her weakest moments could tell her how much he loved her, Adrien could never tell her that he didn't know their secret. He would not have been aware of a secret not to know.

But he did know. He must have known for a couple days, given how long he and Gabriel had been acting so strange. He must have known since…

Since Amelie called.

Nathalie tried to breathe evenly, quietly. Her fingernails scraped down the wall, and she inched towards the door again, just until she could see the very back of Adrien's head.

Gabriel had explained, "They would ask themselves what you have to do with these miraculous, Adrien."

"Ladybug trusts me," he said.

"Yes, I know the girl has expressed some fondness towards you in the past, but however kind and helpful she's been before, she's a superhero ahead of anything else, and the guardian of the miraculous." Gabriel stepped into view, walking behind his son and looking towards the window at the front of the room. "You may want to believe she wouldn't hold suspicions towards you, but you will be the only lead they have, and I don't want you or anyone else in this family to come under their magnifying glass."

"You don't understand," Adrien murmured, turning around to look at the back of his father's head. Now Nathalie could see his face in full, see the anguished, urgent burn of his unwavering stare.

"Don't I? Well, unless the two of you were truly close personal friends, there is nothing that would make me take that risk."

Adrien hesitated. For a while.

"Son?"

"What are you planning to do with them?"

"The miraculous?" Gabriel gripped his hands behind his back. "The way I see it, the only way to prevent the wrong person from getting their hands on them is to keep them."

"Ladybug is not the wrong person."

"She is the wrong person as long as she might find out who had possessed them last."

"Where are they?"

A dark chuckle. "Some place I won't be sharing with you, as long as I worry you might hand them over."

"I wouldn't go behind your back."

"Even if I believed that, I couldn't tell you. Nathalie has been holding on to them for a couple months now, and she's not to be made aware of any of this until the two of us come to an agreement."

Adrien scowled. "I can't agree to be complicit in hiding these miraculous from their rightful guardian."

"And why not? You're not a hero. You have no obligation to the city to uphold."

"Father-"

"It's time we give this a rest, Adrien. I've heard you out, and I still don't approve of your plan. We can continue this conversation on a later date. For now, we have your younger sibling to think about."

Nathalie hugged her belly. She should have interrupted. She should have walked into the room and ignored all of this and pretended that none of it mattered. The baby was coming.

But the shadow that pooled in Adrien's eyes in that moment kept her standing on the other side of the door.

"Father," he said again, louder this time, thicker, and Nathalie felt her bones rattle as though they'd been tolled like a bell. "I think I've made a mistake."

Gabriel, still not looking at his son, lowered his chin to his throat and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know how long I can put this off. I would try if I could, but…" He inhaled sharply and released it like a small whine. "Ladybug's been breathing down my neck."

Again, Gabriel said, "What do you mean?" In his voice, a grave terror took shape, an undesirable certainty that he already knew what his son meant.

Maybe it was the hundred other thoughts catapulting through her head, but Nathalie wasn't catching on as quickly.

"I told her," Adrien said, breathless, "I told her that...I think I know."

Gabriel whipped around and lunged for his son, grabbing him by the shoulders. "You told Ladybug who I am?" he demanded, blue eyes stretched wide open.

"No," Adrien whispered.

"Then what did you-"

"I called her on the way home. After Amelie explained everything. I called her and I left a message and I said, 'I might know his identity but I need to make sure for myself, and if this goes poorly then maybe I'll need your help and-'" Adrien broke off with a sob. "I'm sorry. I was scared. I was scared and angry and confused and after we talked, Father, I realized what I'd done…. She doesn't know who you are but she's been asking me about it and if I can just give her the miraculous then she'll stop. I don't want to tell her. I can't tell her. But she's worried and she trusts me and I can't keep lying to her or you or anybody-!"

"Son!"

"Father…"

"Are you…?" The words were inaudible, visible only on the shape of Gabriel's lips. Nathalie couldn't breathe.

Adrien stepped back, his father's hands slipping off his shoulders. With a wipe of the tears from the corner of his eye, he balled a fist and said, "Plagg, claws out."

Nathalie watched the small black creature surge into the air above Adrien's shoulder, and she watched it stretch and bend like a river of ink to be absorbed into the ring Adrien had been wearing on his right hand for two years now. She watched a green light climb its away up the boy's body and disappear in a flash at the top of his head, where a pair of triangular ears now rose out of his hair, where shaggy blonde locks brushed across his forehead above two cat-like emerald eyes, staring at Gabriel with such pain, with such apology…

An agonized cry cracked through the air.

Gabriel and Adrien's stares broke away from each other and darted in her direction.

Nathalie's vision swam as a powerful contraction rippled from her abdomen to her back and even down her half-numb legs. She reached to grab hold of something with a quivering heave for air - but bearing all of her weight, the door in front of her swung wide open. And Nathalie was falling.

Until a pair of strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, stopping her hard and fast and sending a pain through her back, holding her up even as her legs gave.

A gasp shot through the room.

"Nathalie-!"

She blinked past the haze in her vision to make out Chat Noir's frightened face. When she glanced down, it was at his tense leather grip around her arms.

Her insides felt like they were being stretched and wrung and compressed all at once. She was going to vomit. She was going to pass out.

She just groaned.

Gabriel was at her side before she even saw him move. A hand spread across her back, another clasped the fingers trying to dig into the side of her hardened belly.

"Let's go," he said. "We have to go."

"Father-"

"Forget it."

"Adrien…" she cried.

"Come on." Gabriel leaned closer. "Nathalie, can you walk?"

She didn't know.

"I'll get you to the car." He scooped her off her feet. The sudden change in elevation made the room spin. "Adrien, get the bag. The hospital bag."

"It's in the atrium," she tried to say, though she wasn't sure if her words were discernible through her groans of pain.

"Plagg, claws in." Adrien was standing in front of her again, and then he ran out.

She murmured, "He - he's - Chat -"

"Nathalie."

"You-"

"It doesn't matter," Gabriel said. "It doesn't matter right now."

He carried her out of the room, sending bleary streaks of black and white across her vision. And when Adrien opened the front door for them, Nathalie was blinded by the sky.

Chapter Text

Gabriel tried to shut the door without making a sound. In the dead of night, he feared the slightest click of the lock could somehow rumble the entire house, and he was cautious with the force of his push. A hand tugged at his sweaty collar and pushed back his hair, damp from the downpour that, by the soft patter against the window, sounded to be ebbing now. One final stroke of lightning blinked white-hot and silent through the sky.

As he bent down to unlace his shoes, the crest of his exhaustion broke and crashed over him, rendering his nimble fingers clumsy, his legs heavy and useless. Gabriel sank to the floor, one untied shoe hanging halfway off of his foot, the other seeming too much of an effort to remove. He closed his eyes. He could have fallen asleep right there on the atrium marble, if not for the door that opened above him; if not for the blade of light that swept through the space, and the voice of the boy now standing on the stair-landing, his footsteps stirring Gabriel out of the momentary stupor.

"Father!"

Gabriel looked up, locking eyes with his son. Despite the hour of night, Adrien was still fully dressed and wide awake. He walked down the steps two at a time, nearly pitching forward on the last couple before regaining his balance and approaching his father with his wide eyes gleaming nervously through the dark.

"What's going on? Is everything okay? What are you doing back here? How's Nathalie? Is the baby alright?"

Head whirling faster and faster with each question, Gabriel held up a hand to stop his son from continuing and undid his other shoe. A ragged sigh rippled through the room as he rose to his feet and began making his way towards the stairs.

"Nathalie is not progressing," he said, hand limply curling around the banister.

"Not progressing?"

"She's not getting any closer to being ready to push," he explained. His feet banged heavily up each step.

Adrien ran up behind him. "Does that mean something is wrong?"

"Labor can last a long, long time for some people." Gabriel turned up the next flight and glanced down at his son. "Being under a great deal of stress doesn't help. In Nathalie's case, she's not managing it well." He didn't wish to worry his son too much, so he omitted mention of the bleeding Nathalie had been experiencing. It appeared to be mostly taken care of, caused by a slight separation of the placenta from the uterine wall, which was likely a result of her collapse into Chat Noir's arms hours earlier.

"There has to be a way to help her through that," Adrien said.

"The epidural will ease the pain, at least, but Nathalie wants to hold off."

"Why?"

"It wasn't the original plan, but I think the pain distracts her from...everything else." Gabriel sighed and paused at the top of the stairs. He hoped it was a distraction anyway, as opposed to a way to punish herself. "Between the pain and the shock of our situation, I feel so helpless. I don't know what to do."

Adrien quietly skipped up the rest of the steps to stand beside his father. A gloomy, apologetic glimmer lit up his gaze, which Gabriel could not totally meet. "They sent you home? Nathalie's alone right now?"

"I'm just here to grab a book she wants and an extra pillow," he said. "I wouldn't have left if she was any closer. I'll be out of here again in a few minutes."

"Can I come?"

"No."

Adrien didn't argue with this.

Gabriel staggered to his bedroom. The bed was unmade, the closet door hung wide open, and Nathalie's pajamas sat in a pile on the bathroom floor. After straightening the place out a bit, he stuck one of her pillows beneath his arm and, resisting the urge to collapse onto the bed for a wink of sleep, grabbed a bag to transport the extra items.

His son loomed in the doorway, following Gabriel's wearied movements with his gaze. As he lumbered back to the bathroom to also take Nathalie's hair brush, he wondered if he'd have the time for a quick shower while he was here. But he wanted to get back to Nathalie soon. Instead, with the extra bag fully packed, he removed his blue jacket and unbuttoned waistcoat and hung them back in the closet. His nice, now wrinkled and sweat-stained dress shirt was replaced with a more casual pale gray button-down.

From behind, he heard his son murmur, "I never told you 'Happy Birthday.'"

"It's not my birthday anymore." Nathalie's bedside clock read 2:23 AM. She'd been in labor for thirteen hours.

"Happy Belated Birthday."

Gabriel hummed.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Gabriel started to make his way out of the room, but paused when Adrien didn't budge from the doorway.

"I'm leaving now, son."

"I'm sorry."

"Just move."

"No, Father, I mean," Adrien gestured at himself meaningfully, visage ablaze. "I'm sorry."

Gabriel stared at him, making a grand effort despite his exhaustion to shove down the heft of emotion swelling upward through his chest. "Not now," he grunted.

"I shouldn't have told you. I should have waited. You were right."

"Could you please-" Gabriel stepped into his son, knocking him back out of the doorframe "-move out of the way?"

Adrien recoiled and let him pass. He watched Gabriel begin descending the stairs, and then called out, "Tell Nathalie I'm sorry too."

"No," Gabriel growled. "We're not talking about it."

Half-a-day ago, as Gabriel got her settled in the back of their self-driving car, Nathalie's contraction had passed, and she reached past him towards Adrien, who was handing off the hospital bag.

"He's Chat Noir," she'd whispered, as if Gabriel hadn't found out alongside her.

He set the bag on the floor of the car. "No, he's not."

"You saw it."

"I don't care."

"How can you not care?"

"It's the last thing on my mind right now."

Adrien, who stood paralyzed on the drive, darted his gaze between his father and Nathalie. "Guys…"

"Not a word," Gabriel snapped.

"I guess I'm not coming."

"No, go back inside. Buckle your seatbelt, Nathalie."

Adrien's eyes flashed. "Can I at least say-"

"No-"

"-good luck?"

Gabriel shut the door and walked around to the other side, offering not another word to his son.

In the car, Nathalie had grabbed his hand and shot him a sharp, panicked look. "What do we do, Gabriel?"

"We have a baby."

"About Adrien-?"

"Nothing," he said. "Nathalie, please, forget about Adrien. It's the furthest thing from my mind right now. We can deal with all of this later."

"He knows about us."

"And he's going to keep our secret. Our past will remain in the past. Please, Nathalie."

She looked white. Her pointed glare went dull, and he squeezed her hand, trying to prevent her from going into shock. "Think about how many times we've put him in danger," she whispered.

"No, don't think about that." Gabriel had placed a hand across Nathalie's belly in order to ground him to their most immediate concern, in order to keep from being swept away on the tidal wave of memory that bore down upon him in response to her words. The number of akumas his son had fought, the number of times he had sacrificed himself to them, driven exclusively by his faith in his partner, who Gabriel had tried to defeat over and over again for a year…

The number of times he'd cursed that cat's name. The number of times he'd wished him dead in his darkest, most desperate moments…

No.

Gabriel shook his head and massaged Nathalie's stomach, soothing her with soft hushes as she began to cry. "Nothing is more important right now," he'd said breathlessly, "than you and the baby."

The longer she was in labor, the less she seemed to obsess over the revelation, especially with the constant flow of nurses in and out of the room and the scare of blood that had to be stopped, but the thought was weighing heavy at the back of her mind, filling the space whenever the agony of contractions eased. She'd start panicking, and then the pain would interrupt, and then it would exhaust her, and the cycle began again.

Gabriel was anxious to get back to her, but at the bottom of the stairs, feeling the weight of Adrien's stare on the top of his head, he stopped cold and let the bag drag across the marble.

"Why are you sorry?" he mumbled.

Adrien called, "What?"

"I said, why are you the sorry one?" Gabriel raised his eyes to the upper story, where his son still stood leaning over the railing into the atrium. "What have you to apologize for? I was the villain. You were the one cleaning up my messes."

"You know what I'm sorry for," Adrien said quietly. "I wish I'd listened to you."

"I wish I'd always known. I might have made a lot fewer mistakes."

"You don't know that."

"You're right. I could have made everything even worse."

"No, That's not what I mean." With some heavy, booming steps, Adrien began making his way down. "I just mean...we don't know what could have happened if we found out any other way, you know?"

"Son…"

"I didn't want to make it harder on you and Nathalie. I feel awful that she's suffering so much." The light pouring out from his bedroom glinted off the surface of his teary eyes. "I let my worries about Ladybug interfere with family stuff, and we were always supposed to keep our hero lives and our civilian lives separate, and now I think I've failed her and you and Nathalie."

"What Nathalie is going through isn't your fault," Gabriel tried to tell him, though he didn't know how convincing he sounded while his voice was tissue-thin. "She was stressed to begin with. Milder contractions have been coming slow for days. I worried she'd have a long labor."

"But I didn't help."

"No," Gabriel sighed, "You didn't."

"And that's what I'm sorry for." Adrien sat down on the landing, putting his chin in his hands as a tear slipped down his cheek. Backlight gilded the ends of his messy golden hair. Strangely, he looked nothing like his mother right now. "Just so you know, you're not a worse person because I'm Chat Noir. I could have been anyone. I could have been the President. It doesn't change anything."

Gabriel couldn't believe the words he was hearing. "Of course it does."

"It changes the way you feel. But it doesn't change anything you did, or why you were doing it. I'm not any angrier with you than I already was, and I definitely don't want you and Nathalie to punish yourselves for something you didn't know, so…" Adrien shrugged. "Whatever. We'll talk about it later. Like you wanted to."

There was more to say. A lot more. But Gabriel wouldn't allow himself to be dragged over the edge of whatever cliff towards which he was slipping now. The guilt, the shame, it would have to wait. It killed him inside not to have the last word, but then again, maybe he deserved to be killed just a little bit.

As he started making for the front door, Adrien called out, "Please give me updates."

"I will, but I want you to get some sleep."

"That'll be impossible."

"Try."

"You try too."

Gabriel tightened the bag around his shoulder and opened the door into the gentle rain.

The sky was clear, and Nathalie, who had been nodding in and out of sleep, let out a loud curse.

"Wait," she gasped, looking at Gabriel, "What time is it?"

He had already reached for his phone. "8:52. That's-"

"That's four minutes." The last syllable trailed into breathless silence as she closed her eyes and grit her teeth.

"Breathe, love."

"...Fuck."

"Come on, like they tell you to. I know it feels silly." He brushed his fingertips through the strands of hair that had come out of her loose bun since it was last fastened. Every couple hours, he redid it. The feeling of his hands on her scalp seemed to relax her.

Begrudgingly, Nathalie settled into the breathing pattern the nurses had tried to teach her, but she struggled to maintain it, breaking off into pained wheeze multiple times over the course of the next minute until the contraction ended. With a tissue, Gabriel dabbed at the sweat around her hairline before planting a light kiss on her forehead. Nathalie panted for breath.

"You've been lying like this for a while," he murmured. "You should change positions. That will help."

"Where's the nurse?"

"She stepped out a couple minutes ago, but she'll probably be back soon."

"That one was closer, a lot closer," Nathalie muttered, reaching up to stroke the stubble on his jaw. "I have been sitting at six minutes since we got here, and finally, a change. Things might be moving along now."

"I hope so." Gabriel helped her shift onto her side, fluffing up the extra pillow he'd brought from home.

"Have you slept at all?"

"I've gotten a few minutes here and there."

"You look like shit," she deadpanned.

Gabriel let out a snort and cupped his hand around her face. "And you look like an angel, my dear."

"I'm sure I do. I really know how to pull off a hospital gown, don't you think? Goes with my sickly complexion."

His heart sang that she was expressing her sense of humor. Despite the dullness in her eyes and her labored breathing, her little quips were swift and genuine. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Aside from the obvious."

"What else is there but the obvious? I feel awful." Her gaze flicked over to the window and the pale blue lines of light peering between the blinds. "There's this horrible anxious knot in my stomach. I don't think I've ever been more exhausted in my life, and I have no idea how I'll possibly have the energy to push."

"You'll be able to sleep with an epidural," he reminded her.

"I know." There was a long, unsettled pause. She turned her head so that Gabriel's fingers slipped away from her cheek, and she murmured, "What happens when this is all over?"

"We'll have a baby," Gabriel said, and she furrowed her brow. "Beyond that, it's anybody's guess."

She whispered, "No."

"Nathalie…"

"I'm tired of not knowing what comes next."

"We'll have to navigate, but you and I make a good team," he offered, but this didn't seem to reassure her.

"I just want-" Nathalie sighed sharply and let her head fall limp against her shoulder. "I just want something stable."

A dull pang pealed through Gabriel's chest.

"I've never had that. It's been one blow after the next for years and years and when I thought I was used to it, I dared to imagine what normal looked like." Trembling hands folded around her belly. "And I wanted it. But then again, what do I know about normal?"

"You're asking the wrong person. I wish I could straighten it all out for you," he told her.

"I can't help but think about what we're going to say to Adrien next time we see him. I run through whole conversations through my head, and then I lose control of them, and all I can picture is everything going horribly wrong."

"Love." Gabriel leaned close and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I'll tell you the first thing we'll say to Adrien. It will be something like, 'This is your brother', or 'This is your sister', and after that, they are going to be the only thing he will want to talk about, because he loves them. Always has. Since the moment he found out they were coming into the world. No secret was ever going to change that."

Nathalie sniffled and glanced up at him with a low, solemn blink. "How did you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you - how did you deal with him knowing? For two whole days? I know I figured something was wrong, but I couldn't have imagined it was that. He must have been furious."

"He was," Gabriel mumbled. "But I feel he was even more confused. And conflicted. I guess we have more insight now as to the cause of that last one. Nathalie, but this is what I am saying. As complicated and precarious this situation has been, I genuinely believe this baby has made it easier on us, in a strange way. It gives us all something to put ahead of our strife."

She hugged her bump tighter.

"I'm sorry. I wish our lives didn't have to be so rocky. I'd give you stability in a heartbeat if I knew how."

She sighed, and did not reply.

While they waited for the nurse to return, Gabriel helped Nathalie to her feet for another walk around the room. She grasped his hand as they circled slowly, tracing her fingertip across the lines in his palm. He'd found the waddle in her hips completely endearing these last several weeks, but now he could read her weariness in her every move.

She was standing by the window, staring out over a courtyard towards another wing of the hospital as Gabriel opened the blinds to let in the light, and her grip on his hand wrenched tighter suddenly.

"God!" she exclaimed, doubling over.

"I've got you," he said, wincing at the flare of pain up his wrist. Just in time, he reached out to catch her glasses before they clattered onto the floor. All he could do was let her squeeze his hand, guide her to sway a little to ease the tension in her body. It couldn't possibly feel like enough while her countenance remained so taut and pale and twisted.

That was how the nurse and Travert found them when they entered the room a moment later. Despite the visible pain Nathalie was in, the doctor smiled brightly.

"How are you doing, Mom?" she asked.

"So, so good," Nathalie heaved.

"How far apart are we now?"

"Four to five minutes," Gabriel answered.

"Better, then."

"It's been slow-going."

"Fucking hell," Nathalie coughed.

Travert chuckled, sanitizing her hands. "You weren't ready for the epidural by the time I left you last night. How are we feeling now? Do I call in the anesthesiologist?"

Nathalie looked at Gabriel, and then back at the floor. Trying to level her breathing, she nodded.

"Alright. I'll do that while Nurse Roche checks your dilation."

It was about thirty minutes after the drug was administered that Nathalie fell fast asleep. Gabriel sat right beside her, soothingly stroking the side of her head, gazing into a facial expression that conveyed something adjacent to peace. Some of the helpless fear in Gabriel's heart was quieted by the sight of her getting some rest at last, but all those tubes and wires hanging off of her body turned his stomach his little.

"She has pretty low blood pressure. It's okay for now, but we'll be monitoring that closely. Baby's heartbeat is regular," Nurse Roche observed. She was young, with big gray doe-eyes that always made her look just a little alarmed at all times. Glancing away from the monitors, she nodded at Gabriel. "You must be pretty tired by now too."

"Very." He barely looked away from Nathalie.

"I should remind you to get a little sleep as well, and eat something. You'll also want to be fully awake by the time she's ready to push."

"How far away do you think we are?"

"Hard to say. I'm not the best at predicting that sort of thing. I do think that now that she's more relaxed, she'll start progressing a little quicker. If not, we might want to start discussing the possibility of using some inducing medications. Or a C-section."

After sending a quick text to Adrien updating him on their current circumstances, Gabriel left a kiss on Nathalie's temple and leaned back in his chair to rest his eyes for a few minutes or sixty.

"What was he like?"

"As a newborn, loud."

"Loud?"

"It wasn't that he cried more than other babies, but he definitely cried louder than any other baby I've ever been around."

Nathalie quirked an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have thought that."

"No?"

"He's such a calm, respectful kid."

It was nearly 4 PM. The delivery nurses were on their way into the room, with Dr. Travert at the center of it all, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Nathalie was fully dilated, letting Gabriel pull the pillow she was hugging away from her chest and gazing up at him with dull, heavy-lidded eyes. By the far-away look on her face, he could tell this didn't feel real to her. He grasped her hand, they drew circles into each other's palms with their thumbs, whispered in low, tired voices, trying to prepare her.

Gabriel agreed with a dip of his head. "I remember worrying he was going to grow up to be boisterous and rowdy. I wasn't as patient with the noise as Emilie."

"Don't say that. You'll worry me."

"Well, I liked to joke that he inherited his volume from his mother. You and I aren't quite like that." Gabriel smiled fondly at the memories flitting through his head, like leaves scraping by in the wind. "He grew out of it around six months. After that, he was such a happy child. Smiled all the time."

"That's what I remember from when I first met him. Feels like so long ago."

"He was four."

"That is long," she murmured.

"I wonder if it's all going to come back to me," Gabriel mused, "How to take care of a baby. I worry it will feel like the first time again, after all these years."

"If so, we'll learn together."

Gabriel loved her more than he could tell her in just three words.

"Did you realize," said Nathalie, voice riding a weary sigh, "we haven't decided on a name?"

"We've narrowed it down."

"But we haven't picked." She shut her eyes and looked for a moment like she might be falling asleep again, but her face twitched. "Oh, oh, God," she muttered.

"What?"

"We're going to leave here with a baby. It's going to have a name. It's going to cry. I'm going to hear it cry in a matter of minutes."

"It's the best sound in the world," an older nurse commented, positioning Nathalie's numb leg.

"Every time I think I've processed that, it hits me all over again," Gabriel said softly. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Cold.

"What if I'm not strong enough?"

"Don't be silly. You're the strongest person I've ever known."

"I can't believe we're here. I can't believe I made it here."

"What do you mean that you made it?"

"Okay, are we ready, parents?" said Travert, taking her place.

"I just could never picture it," Nathalie whispered. Her eyes fluttered open again, revealing surfaces of glassy blue, like flat, shallow stretches of water. There was a pinch in Gabriel's heart, a heaviness in his gut. Dread before he even knew what it was for.

This was it.

And she looked so fragile.

"Nathalie, how are we doing?" Travert asked.

She answered, "Petrified."

"It'll be over soon. You made it."

"I made it," she repeated, like she didn't believe it. A troubled crease formed between her brows. Her breath hitched.

"Here we go, love," Gabriel whispered, interlocking his fingers with her own.

Travert gave a countdown.

Nathalie pushed once. Twice. The grimace of effort melted off of her expression with a fragmented exhale, replaced slowly, eerily, by something dizzy and distant.

Then the glass in her eyes cracked.

It all happened so fast.

The first thing Gabriel noticed apart from the spine-chilling cold of Nathalie's skin, was the sudden, almost instantaneous change in the doctor's face, and like dominoes, the faces of the surrounding nurses dropped as well.

Then, Roche's head snapped to look at a monitor.

The order of everything else was a red and white blur.

He heard Nathalie wheeze out something indiscernible after that second push.

Roche had urgently announced, "Her blood pressure is dropping."

He'd looked around the room so quickly, focused on nothing. All that he knew is that by the time he looked back at Nathalie, her face was sheet-white and her head was lolling to the side.

Somehow those four nurses looked like twenty, with the way they were moving, so quickly, so mechanically. They knew what they were doing.

But his soul was peeling away from his body.

There was something wrong with the placenta. The separation was worse than they thought.

That might have been what he heard.

All their voices sounded a mile off.

At some point, Travert's blue latex gloves had been painted bright red, and when he caught sight of the ruby gleam of light across her palm, he shuddered, throat pinching shut.

He remembered the sharp glint in her focused black eyes when she glanced up at him for the amount of time it takes to fire an arrow.

"Mr. Agreste," she said, the words rapid but clear. "I hate to say this, but I have to ask you to leave. Immediately."

Something sparked and exploded through Gabriel at these words. His body turned to stone, immobile. "I'm not going anywhere."

There were more people in the room than he remembered. There was more blood than he remembered. On the tile.

"Nathalie made it very clear to me while we were discussing her birth plan that if anything went wrong during delivery, she did not want you in the room." Without taking her eyes away from Nathalie again, Travert nodded her chin at the oldest nurse present and said, "Verne, escort Mr. Agreste out. He won't be joining us in the OR."

"The OR?" Gabriel violently shook off the woman's grasp when she tried to take his arm. "There is no way in hell I'm leaving," he spat.

His mind buzzed with the medical jargon being spewed out from every direction. Numbers and terminology and a stark absence of panic. They were all calm. Horrifyingly calm. While he drowned in a tight, narrow space, with nothing to reach out to but walls he couldn't break down.

"60 over 45," said Roche.

Nathalie was conscious. She made a noise. All he could see in her bloodless face was pure impenetrable shock, and lips that were turning blue.

"Please don't make us call security," Verne said.

He couldn't leave her. There was no way.

The nurses and the orderlies that had just entered the room were beginning to transfer Nathalie. Gabriel's fingers slipped away from hers.

"No," he choked.

God, how did this happen?

There were more orderlies, cleaning the blood. Gabriel could smell it, the coppery odor clinging to his throat and nasal cavity. His stomach turned.

Verne was still there.

She led him out of the room.

"What -?" Gabriel blinked under the cold artificial hospital lights.

"They'll be performing an emergency C-section now." She started to direct him up or down the hallway, but he couldn't process what she was telling him. A great bright cloud in his head obscured his vision and swallowed all sound in muffled thunder.

He stopped walking - he didn't realize he was still walking - and asked Verne, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

Gabriel was not a religious man. But after he'd vomited up what little food he'd eaten in the past several hours, he remained knelt there by the toilet with his fingers linked over his pounding heart, praying to something, anything, that would listen.

Don't take her from me.

Maybe he'd been too lucky up to this point and the universe was ripping from him what his atonement hadn't earned. Maybe he deserved this.

But Nathalie didn't.

Adrien didn't.

They were too good for him. Too forgiving. Too patient. Too hopeful. Too everything.

Don't take her from me.

A deep sob rippled up his throat.

Don't take her from me.

With each stab of grief through his body, he loathed himself all the more. The feeling slipped so easily into place, a perfect fit into a hole through his heart that had yet to close. He knew what loss was, and this couldn't be it. The familiar pain penetrating his skin tried to tell him differently. Under the force of every blow, his fists wrenched tighter around the narrow wooden armrests of his chair, pressing the color clean out of his skin.

Adrien had texted him multiple times. Each message went unanswered. If he let go of the chair, he'd be swept away.

His mind was an unraveling list of things he wished he had done differently, and each item down drew him further and further back into his memories, creating scenarios he had to believe were better than his reality. Time branched off into a million directions and disappeared. He could have been truthful with Nathalie about Amelie's phone call. Almost a year ago, sitting on the edge of her bed, he could have swapped the words, "It's over for now. I need a break" with "It's over forever. I'm in love with you" and avoided all of the pain and heartbreak of the months to come. He could have put the miraculous in the vault and left them there forever. He could have surrendered the ring to Amelie the moment she asked him, and let his history die a quiet and permanent death.

He wished he'd known it when he fell for Nathalie. He wished it hadn't scared him.

More than anything, he wanted to erase every wound he'd ever opened in Nathalie's heart.

Maybe, somewhere down at the bottom of that list, he hoped for a world where she'd never loved him, where she'd never had faith in him, where she could have spent the last twelve years of her life chasing a dream of her own until she caught it between her hands like a firefly and watched it glow.

She wouldn't be here. Anywhere was better than here, if his heart was right to bleed.

4:41. A nurse appeared with a streak of blood across her scrubs and a wild look in her face that made Gabriel's stomach harden and plunge like a stone. He shot to his feet, pulse hammering hard enough to shake him.

"Nathalie -! Is - is she -?"

It was Roche. He was registering the urgent gleam in her doe-eyes, staring sharply from above the medical mask around her mouth. "Unbutton your shirt," she ordered clinically.

Gabriel froze. "What?"

"Here." She bounced something in her arms. A bundle of cloth. "Skin-to-skin."

"Skin-to-"

Some screen barring off his panicked head from the external world ripped right open, letting in a flood of pure light to spark the sudden realization that the blanket the nurse was holding was not just a blanket.

It was making noise. It had been making noise this whole time. Over the roaring blood in his ears, he hadn't heard it until now.

The baby.

He fumbled with the buttons of his wrinkled gray shirt, cursing as his fingers slipped, gaze now adhering to the infant like it was his guiding flame. Only now was he seeing its face as human: round, red, and scrunched up in outrage. It was crying. Tiny fists shook at the bright, cold world, and Gabriel undid the fourth button down before Roche handed him the child in haste.

"Support the head," she told him. "Hold her against you. This is important for bonding."

"Her -" Gabriel croaked.

"There you go," Roche said. He pressed the whining baby to his bare chest, feeling the tremble of its cries - her cries.

"Oh my God," he breathed.

"3.9 kilograms. 59 centimeters. She is big and long for 38 weeks."

He was holding his baby. His daughter. She was tiny and warm and irate and perfect. The most perfect thing in the world. They were meeting for the first time, and Gabriel knew this beautiful creature had already uprooted his whole world a long time ago. She was lying in the arms of the man she'd beaten and broken and changed just by existing. She'd destroyed him. She'd made him new.

And then he realized he was holding his baby.

"Nathalie," he gasped, looking up. "How's Nathalie? Tell me she's okay."

Roche shrank a little beneath the pummeling desperation of his tone. "Sir-"

"I need her to be okay."

"She will be okay. The surgery went very smoothly. They've ordered a blood transfusion and are currently trying to increase her blood pressure to a healthier range. As soon as she is in a stable condition, you will be allowed to see her."

He swallowed a thick lump in his throat and held the child tighter, beginning to sway back and forth on his feet in hopes to ease her cries. "She's not...she's not going to…"

"No. Nathalie will be fine."

Pressing his lips to the baby's head, Gabriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She was still crying. He didn't mind. That little voice of hers warmed his frightened heart.

"I will have to take her back in a moment," Roche murmured. "The pediatrician still needs to run a couple more tests, but I wanted you to meet her first."

Gabriel couldn't imagine ever letting the baby go. He didn't want to be alone again.

Fighting against the threat of tears, he sat down again in the chair with his daughter still pressed to his chest. He stroked her head, felt the fuzz of hair he hadn't noticed at first because it was so light. He stared at her pink, plump little face and wondered, how in all the world was there a stretch of time that he didn't want her? She was the most remarkable thing he'd ever laid eyes on; the best day-late birthday gift he'd ever received. He'd felt her kick and squirm under his hand. He'd stared at her picture for hours, kept it right beside his bed, let him carry him to as close as he could get to the right place before he was stupid enough to almost throw it all away.

He'd nearly exchanged this for his pride.

There is a timeline out there, a fork in the river, a dead jagged branch, where he wouldn't have known what he was missing.

Gabriel couldn't help it. He cried. He was loud. He was broken. Touching and holding and hugging this lovely little thing.

Now, he'd let his pride be destroyed a million different times for a second longer with her.

He wished he could look back on his past self with a glare like an ice-blue star and tell him, earnest as a prayer, violent as a storm,

Don't take her from me.

Chapter Text

Nathalie didn't open her eyes.

Wherever she was, it was cold. The chill across every inch of her skin was the very first thing she could feel, and to escape it, she might have sunk right back into the open, empty nothingness of the place she'd come, unprepared for the brutality of a perceptible world. As she bobbed in and out of consciousness, her mind gradually began to grasp onto various sensations, all faint, all fuzzy, all pressing in from the other side of a kind of barrier: loose fabric, like static against her skin; a low frequency hum she wouldn't be able to track when she returned to herself; beeping, breathing, pressure; a cloud in her head that would either explode in thunder or carry her away.

God, everything hurt. Except it didn't, really. Not quite. Her entire body was suspended somewhere just outside of the pain, like one wrong move could send her crashing into it.

Her throat was sore, that much she could tell. A small cough bubbled out of her. It burned. She needed water.

She would throw up if she swallowed anything.

On the other side of her eyelids, there was light.

Open them, Nathalie, look.

She turned her head a few degrees to the side. What side, she did not know.

The scratch of her hair against the pillowcase. Nathalie tried to make a fist. The tip of her pinkie finger grazed her palm, and that was the best she could do.

The voices in the room formed shapes in the air, but not any words.

Something pressed down on a part of her body. It was her wrist. Her left wrist. She tried to move it, but that touch was weighing her down.

She exhaled.

There was a response, but she didn't know what it was. Something short. Maybe her name.

She tried to say, "What?"

She might have only wheezed.

Time passed, she wasn't certain how much, but when she could open her eyes at last, her head seared at the light flooding her vision. Shrinking away from it, she buried the side of her face into the pillow.

When Nathalie looked again, it was at a large square shape. A shape she recognized after a few seconds and a few more blinks as a window. The blinds were closed, but dull blue light faintly illuminated them from the other side. She didn't know what time it was. She didn't recognize this room.

"Nathalie." A deep voice rumbled from the other side of the bed. If she turned her head too quickly to look, she'd become dizzy. The touch on her wrist tightened. "Come on, love."

She knew that voice.

Glancing in its direction, she found him sitting there, close to the bed, one arm extended, one hand clasped. His face was barely in focus. She wanted to reach out to touch it.

She lied still.

She felt like shit.

Queasy and dazed, the best she could offer was something that felt like a partway smile. Maybe it was only a grimace.

"She's awake," Gabriel said, with words that barely reached her. A moment later, there was another presence at her side. A nurse.

Hospital. She was in a hospital. Nathalie secured a grip over the sheet covering most of her body, which felt like fresh cotton, without weight or form.

Another cough. A groan.

Her eyes began to close again, gaze dropping from Gabriel's face. But they landed on something else laid across his arm, the one that wasn't reaching out to her.

Someone else.

A little face.

Ice-cold fire burst to life in Nathalie's veins, a string of high-pitched gasps heaving out of her chest as she started to frantically push herself upright. Her arms trembled. She collapsed. She pushed again. Gabriel was trying to hold his grip on her wrist steady. Wide gray eyes begged her to remain calm, but she didn't look at them for long.

Against the crook of his elbow, he rested the head of a pink-faced child. A baby. With eyes scrunched closed. With a round cheek squished into its father's ribs. With a tiny foot hanging out of a blanket and tiny hand pressed into a fist by its mouth.

Nathalie couldn't speak. She panted for breath and grappled uselessly for words that wouldn't form past the violent flicker of panic assailing her mind. The nurse on her other side held her shoulder.

"It's okay, it's okay," the older woman was saying. "Don't strain yourself. Relax."

"Lay back down, Nathalie," Gabriel murmured. His thumb rubbed a circle into her inner wrist.

The baby moved its hand.

"Oh…" she croaked. "Oh, oh no -"

A blow of dizziness crashed in. Nathalie's weak arms buckled and her head dropped back onto the pillow. A white ceiling swirled and dripped down towards her. Nauseated, she swallowed roughly, wincing at the burn in her esophagus.

"Blood pressure is still quite low. We're at 85 over 55," she heard the nurse say.

"You're alright, Nathalie. Please don't overexert yourself." Gabriel leaned over and kissed her temple.

She reached for her belly. Still round and swollen. But -

The child in her lover's arm made a noise. The slightest noise. A little more than a breath. Nathalie tried to turn over. Her finger just missed its cheek.

"You're…" she rasped.

Gabriel smiled. Tears blinked into his eyes and he gazed down at the precious creature, the creature that was no longer inside of her body.

This couldn't be real.

"Are you ready to hold her?" Gabriel asked.

She whispered, "Her?"

"We have a daughter." He stroked Nathalie's cheek tenderly, flicked away a thin piece of hair. He was warm. He was very warm. And she was so cold. "We have a daughter, Nathalie."

She'd be convinced this was a dream if her stomach wasn't churning, if her throat wasn't on fire, if her skin didn't feel like a film of ice. Nathalie was miserable.

But this baby. This little pink light calling her after it.

"Please," Nathalie whimpered. "Please give her to me."

Gently, very gently, Gabriel handed the baby over. Each twitch of her limbs sent a deathly pang into Nathalie's chest. She didn't know how she could survive this. Her hand curved around the back of the baby's head, and Nathalie stopped breathing.

"There you go," said the nurse. "Just let her lie on you."

Curled up on Nathalie's chest, the baby reacted to her mother's cold skin with a jerk of her legs and a little whine, but she relaxed after a moment. But those brief seconds of discomfort, the thought of this child shrinking away from her split her heart in two. Tears poured down Nathalie's cheeks. Her nose was buried into the top of her daughter's head, and when she could breathe again, it was to let out a deep, rippling sob.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Gabriel asked her, running a hand across the blanket. "Oh, Nathalie, look at what you've done."

"No," Nathalie gasped. "No…" She couldn't have done this. This was too good, too perfect to have come from her.

"And she's healthy too," he added. "Time of birth, 4:12 PM. 3.9 kilograms…"

Nathalie hiccuped.

"Oh, love." He kissed her again. "It's overwhelming."

She was so weak. So tired. She didn't know what to do. Nathalie lied there and cried until her head pounded and the salt of her tears stung her lips.

"Hello, sweet," she cooed, sniffling.

She was holding the whole world up to her heart.

After a few minutes, the startling high of the moment began to softly diminish. Nathalie felt a few miles closer to earth, and she finally looked away from the child to flit her gaze around the room. She didn't know what had happened last before she woke up, but this wasn't the same room in which she'd spent the last grueling twenty-seven hours she could spottily remember.

"What happened?" she murmured. "What time is it? How did she…?" Nathalie thumbed the baby's curled knuckles.

"It's 5:30."

She missed the first hour of her baby's life.

Gabriel's mouth hung open as if to continue, but the words fell apart before he could speak them. The nurse, who was checking the fluid levels in the IV bags hanging over Nathalie's bed - including one which was crimson and made Nathalie's breath hitch - said, "You experienced a dangerous drop in blood pressure and heavy blood loss during delivery, after which you brought in for an emergency C-section. You may need a second blood transfusion, but your vitals are looking decent for now."

Nathalie stared at her, feeling queasy all over again.

"Are you ready to try nursing?"

"I…" Gently squeezing the baby's fist, Nathalie gave a stiff nod. "I think so."

"Okay, let's sit you up. Nice and slow."

Nathalie leaned back against what felt like an entire wall of pillows and, after a couple minutes spent trying to get her to latch on, fed the baby for the first time. Gabriel wiped his partner's tears and ran his fingers carefully through her tangled hair.

"You're a natural," said the nurse, before she left to give them a few minutes to themselves.

As soon as she was gone, Gabriel cupped Nathalie's cheek and lifted her face to make her look at him.

"I didn't lose you," he whispered, in a tone so small and broken that Nathalie hardly recognized his voice. "You're okay."

"Gabriel." She shifted her face and kissed his palm.

"I was terrified, so terrified I would…" He closed his eyes. "But you're here. We're here."

"She's here," Nathalie said, glancing down at the baby again. "I don't remember anything."

"You were…" Gabriel steeled himself. "You were in shock. It was bad, Nathalie."

She was trying to float between the clouds in her head, searching for her most recent memory. There was one image that stuck out: the twist of window blinds from open to closed, the thinning of natural light as white artificial beamed down from above. She remembered the pressure of Gabriel's reassuring grip on her hand, before the moment faded into a fog and then vanished entirely.

"How much did you see?" she asked.

"I was there until they started to transfer you. I don't know how much of it I remember myself, only that I felt so helpless and afraid." She could tell he was fighting to keep his voice even as he softly stroked the baby's fine hair. "I couldn't see you. I couldn't be with you. Dr. Travert told me you-"

Nathalie blinked at him.

He shook his head. "She told me you didn't want me there if something went wrong. I didn't have a choice but to watch them take you away. I was scared it would be the last time I'd see you…"

"Gabriel," she whispered.

"I'm sorry." A haunted darkness thickly loomed behind his gaze. "But why? Why would you have wanted to be alone at a time like that? After you've spent so much time going through this by yourself…"

Nathalie lowered her eyes.

"I don't understand," he breathed, "why you'd let us both alone at a time like that."

Staring between her baby's twitching fingers and the needles sunk into her arm, Nathalie wondered for a moment if she was lucky to have been absent for the last hour and a half, to have missed the fight for her own life, while her child lived her first moments without a mother and her partner waited in the sidelines with nothing to do but hope he'd see her alive again. Despite the horrid haze obscuring her thoughts, despite the pain and exhaustion, Nathalie never had the space to wonder if she'd live or die. She never knew something was wrong. Her head went blank and then she woke up here with a beautiful, healthy baby and an adoring lover at her side. All the while, Gabriel had grieved. She knew because she'd seen the grief in his eyes, and she knew he did not cope well with grief. With loss. With uncertainty.

She murmured, "I was scared too."

"That I wouldn't be able to withstand it?"

"That you'd leave."

Gabriel's fingers paused on the baby's head. "I wouldn't leave you if I had the choice," he said.

"I made the birth plan weeks ago. When I was still nervous that what we had wasn't going to last, the way it didn't the first time."

He looked bruised by this, but he didn't say anything, nor moved his hand.

"If you ever left," she went on, "I wanted it to be my choice. I guess when I imagined the situation going south, I didn't picture something so terrible. I thought I'd still be aware enough to change my mind, and I would have." She lifted her gaze back to his face. "I'm sorry."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're okay. If you didn't make it out of this, I don't know what I would have done. I don't know if I could have lived with it. For as long as we were apart, I was lost. So terribly lost."

"Gabriel," she whispered. "I'm right here."

"Thank God." He ducked his head into her shoulder. "Nathalie, if anybody should be sorry, it's me."

"For what, love?"

"For everything. For everything I've ever done to hurt you. For not wanting this, wanting her. I can't imagine not wanting her, and yet I didn't for so long. How could I ever forgive the man I used to be for nearly giving this up?." He exhaled with a thick, shaking sigh, breath warming her icy skin. "I was alone for an hour, and I felt like I was dying. How you ever did it, how you could ever stand to be alone for as long as I left you, I can't understand. I'm sorry for what I'd put you through."

"Look at us now," said Nathalie, and he raised his red-rimmed eyes to gaze at her. "We're together, Gabriel. We're fine. I'm fine."

She felt far from that, actually, and by the look in his face, she could tell he knew that. But this baby on her breast, quietly feeding, already had a way of making that not matter, even if she couldn't make it go away. She wasn't magic. But she was real. And that was even more of a miracle.

"Father, oh my gosh, I've been on the edge of my seat all day. What's going on? Are they here?"

"Yes." Gabriel smiled at Nathalie, who bounced the baby in her arms to try to get her to open her eyes. "Adrien, you have a sister."

The boy's exclamation was so loud, it crackled through the phone. "A sister!" he shouted. "A baby sister!"

"It wasn't what you predicted."

"I don't care! Oh, oh my gosh! Can I please see her?"

Chuckling, Gabriel shifted closer to Nathalie and held the screen out in front of them. Adrien was hopping around so much that she couldn't get a clear look at his face, but she could tell, at least, that he was grinning.

"Here she is," said Nathalie, lifting the baby up a little.

Adrien gasped.

"Sybille Angélique Violette," Gabriel announced, adjusting the sleeve of the baby's onesie to free her fist.

"Sybille," repeated Adrien, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Nathalie waved her daughter's hand.

"She's perfect," sighed Adrien, sitting still now. His green eyes glittered with tears as he sat back down at his desk chair. "Absolutely perfect."

"Has she stolen your heart, Adrien?"

"Positively. I can't wait for her to come home."

"It will be a few days," Gabriel said. "Nathalie ended up having a C-section."

"Really? How are you doing, Nathalie?"

"I've been better."

"She'll be okay. Some additional recovery time will be necessary, but everything is fine," said Gabriel, with some force that Nathalie caught but Adrien didn't seem to.

She added, "Sybille is healthy."

"Oh, that's wonderful."

He spent several more minutes fawning over her. Her cute little fingers and round pink face and the way her onesie was just a little oversized. They established Adrien would come to visit and hold his sister for the first time the next morning. Palpable joy beamed off the boy, even from the other end of a video call. He rubbed his cheeks as they started to ache from smiling so much, wiped his eyes from the collar of his shirt. He looked everything like a kid with a million things to celebrate, and nothing at all like a hero speaking to his worst enemies. And wasn't he both?

Nathalie thought so. As the call went on, the baby grew heavy in her arms, her heart heavy in her chest. She didn't remember much, but she knew the boy on the screen would have all the reason in the world to hate her if Sybille wasn't there to light the darker corners of their heads. Maybe he could have hated her anyway, because what about the past could this child change? What could Nathalie? She lived in fear the world she used to live in would re-emerge someday, even if it was out of nowhere. She could not believe that that same trouble hadn't haunted Adrien's thoughts all this time.

Nathalie said his name, lowering Sybille into the valley between her chest and her swollen stomach.

"Yeah?" he said. He sobered up rather swiftly, must have sensed the gravity in Nathalie's tone. Gabriel did as well, his head snapping to face her.

"Are you okay?" she asked Adrien.

"Okay? I'm great!"

"I know, it's only - I wanted to tell you…" Sighing, Nathalie placed a hand on Gabriel's leg. "I don't know if I've ever said it, but I love you, Adrien. You were the closest thing to a child I'd ever had before Sybille, and I still love you like mine. You should know that."

"Nathalie," Adrien breathed.

"And I'm well-aware things are complicated. Very complicated. We can put on smiles for now, but there's still so much to talk about, and I haven't had the chance to address any of it."

Gabriel lowered his phone. "I don't think we should-"

"I'll start by telling you that I'm sorry."

"Nathalie," said Adrien again. "We don't have to…"

"We shouldn't," Gabriel asserted. "Now is not that time."

Nathalie tried to grab the phone. "I want to."

"Focus on Sybille, Nathalie, and your recovery. It's only been a few hours. You're still weak."

"Please," she urged him, "I'd prefer to discuss it now. I don't want to let this loom over us for any longer than it has to."

"Maybe we should wait until tomorrow, right?" suggested Adrien. Gabriel was keeping the phone away from her, and she couldn't see him, but the waver of uncertainty in his voice clearly registered. She knew this conversation would not be any easier for him. "I'll see you in person in the morning. This kind of thing might be best dealt with face-to-face."

"Maybe," she murmured. "Or, maybe it'd be easier if I didn't have to look you in the face. I don't know if I could."

"Nathalie."

"It would. It would be easier for me."

"Father has already said a lot about your intentions. I understand, I do."

"I would still like to speak for myself. Listen." Nathalie tugged at Gabriel's arm, and he brought the screen a little closer again, eyes shadowy and pointed at the tiled floor. "I don't expect we can say all that needs to be said right here, right now. But I don't want to wait to start. Yesterday, didn't you make it a point, how urgent it is to come to a sort of agreement?"

"An agreement can wait. I've spoken to Ladybug."

"You have?" Nathalie and Gabriel said in unison.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell her anything important, but…" Adrien sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, fine, let's talk. I think I would feel better if we did too."

Gabriel, convinced by his curiosity to know what Adrien and Ladybug had discussed, begrudgingly agreed to allow them. He took Sybille from Nathalie and stood by the door, ready to inform them of a potential hospital worker's entry, leaving the phone to Nathalie.

"While the baby was coming, it was hard to think about anything else, even with Ladybug trying to get ahold of me. Just earlier today I managed to convince her that I'm dealing with a family emergency that is more urgent than the villains' identities, since I never told her that I actually knew them for sure. I had to see her in person to convince her I wasn't in any danger, but ever since, she's been leaving me be."

"How long do you think that will last?" asked Nathalie.

"Long enough for us to talk about it, I hope. But I don't know for sure, so maybe you're right about doing this as soon as possible." Adrien propped his phone up on his desk and leaned back in his chair with a hefty exhale. "I'm sorry for getting her involved. I wasn't thinking. I'd been in full panic mode when Amelie told me everything, and Ladybug has always been someone I can trust, and the only person who could have actually helped me deal with this. But it was impulsive. It could have been a disaster."

"Adrien," Nathalie whispered.

"I should have known better."

"I don't blame you. You saw up-close what Hawk Moth and Mayura were capable of. I won't pretend our actions were...respectable. Or good. You could only assume the worst without knowing our motivations."

"I almost betrayed you."

"And we might have deserved it."

Gabriel shifted his feet. A scowl deepend the lines in his face, but he didn't say anything.

"I shouldn't speak for your father," she backtracked. "I might have deserved it."

"No, Nathalie," her partner grumbled, and she hung her head.

"I'm sorry. I'm not helping, am I?"

"Would you even feel the same way if you didn't know I was Chat Noir?" asked Adrien.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Our lives have changed so much in the last year. I think a large piece of me feels far-removed from Mayura. But then, Mayura is only part of the story. I supported your Father in other ways. I kept secrets for him until they became my secrets, I helped him develop plans, I shared his frustrations and his - resentments." She glanced back up at the screen. "I admit, I remember a lot of it as a weird, out-of-body experience; there came a point where my body couldn't do much. But the intention behind it, the lack of concern I had for who I was hurting, who was behind the mask: it was always wrong, but it's a slap in the face to know it had been you all along. One of the people I care about most."

Adrien was quiet for a moment, twisting the ring - the miraculous - on his finger. Then he said, "I told Father last night, it doesn't matter that I'm Chat Noir -"

"You talked last night?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Very briefly."

"It doesn't matter that I'm Chat Noir. That probably does make it worse in your eyes, but I don't care that I was the one taking your blows. I care that you had blows to deal."

Nathalie winced.

"I understand why you did it. I've had time to process what Father has told me over the past few days. It just matters to me that you acknowledge that most of what you did was wrong, and that it's wrong for reasons other than how it affected me. I'm not the only victim. I hope I'm not the only one you care about."

She didn't know how to reply. Because Adrien very well might have been the only one she cared about.

That must have made her a bad person. Then again, she'd long believed that of herself.

Nathalie lowered the phone, murmuring a paper-thin "Understood."

Gabriel swayed with the baby as he glanced between the bed and the door. "That's enough discussion for the night."

"I actually have a couple questions," Adrien said, "About Nathalie's illness."

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. Across the room, Gabriel's expression dimmed, and he turned away. Nathalie noticed his arms tighten around Sybille.

"What do you want to know?" she prompted Adrien softly, never looking away from his father.

"How bad was it, really?"

"Very bad," Gabriel muttered, though he wasn't loud enough for Adrien to hear.

Adrien was perfectly aware that Nathalie had taken a long sick leave between the previous May and September. He'd been allowed in her room on occasion, had seen her confined to bed, had heard the electronic pulse of a heart monitor, had once noticed Gabriel stealing a look at her vitals before he had completely left the room. But he'd only ever been permitted to see Nathalie at her best. During spikes of energy. He didn't know the worst of it.

And if Gabriel had already told him the purpose of their crimes, then he was looking for insight about his mother's illness as well.

Nathalie tried to put on a clinical tone as she explained. "It was worse than it seemed. Symptoms included dizziness, fainting, weakness, nausea, body aches, and a persistent cough. Sometimes I couldn't breathe. I had to sleep sitting up when I was at my worst, or I'd stop breathing in the middle of the night."

Adrien's stare was unblinking.

Gabriel's sway had paused.

"I struggled to stay awake frequently. I had no appetite most days. I lost weight and muscle mass and I didn't feel like myself."

"All because of the peacock miraculous?" Adrien whispered.

"It had to draw from my energy in order to properly function. Like it opened a hole inside me from which to absorb power. Over time the hole would open wider. I wouldn't only feel sick after transforming, I would feel sick all of the time. I no longer had the energy or strength left to heal the wounds it left in me."

"How did you get better?"

"Your father fixed it. Right before he became Shadow Moth. In the meantime, I rested. Recovery took months. Truthfully, Adrien, there were nights I didn't think I would make it. We got lucky. Had we not gotten our hands on the grimoire and the repair instructions when we did, I don't think I would still be here."

"And that's what happened to Mom?"

Gabriel exhaled shakily, stiff in the shoulders.

"Yes," Nathalie murmured. "Until she fell asleep."

"Why didn't she stop?"

"I don't know. Maybe then, she didn't know how dangerous it was. She took a turn for the worse much quicker than I did. It's possible there was not any time to help her."

Wiping his eyes with the base of his palm, Adrien leaned forward. After a long, brisk pause, his emerald gaze flicked up, not to his screen, but to his camera, so that he appeared to be looking directly into Nathalie's face when he asked, "Why didn't you stop?"

A small smile twitched onto her lips. "Simple," she replied. "I'd support your father at any cost."

"You saw what the miraculous did to my mom. You knew what it was doing to you. Weren't you scared?"

"Not of dying," Nathalie told him.

Gabriel looked back.

"Then, of what?" wondered Adrien.

"Never seeing him happy again." Nathalie traced her finger along the seam of the bed sheet around her hips. "I've loved your father for a long time, Adrien. I knew who he was. I saw what his grief was doing to him, how it was changing him, and I was terrified it would destroy him too. I wasn't going to let that happen. No illness, no pain the peacock miraculous inflicted ailed me more than watching him hurt. I would have carried the burden of ten damaged miraculous if it meant making him whole again."

"Nathalie." Her partner only mouthed her name. Some blazing silver astoundment illuminated his eyes. Nathalie's heart fluttered.

Softer, half to herself, in a confession she'd hardly ever admitted internally, she said, "I would have made a trade of my life."

"No," he said, audible now.

She gave a small dip of her head. "So, maybe a lot of the atrocities you remember, Adrien, were a result of my encouragement. I don't regret my loyalty to him - not anymore. So, it will be hard for me to grant you what you're asking for. I don't know if I can tell you that I truly care that what I did was wrong, at least to the extent that you believe it. If that makes me unforgivable, then I wish there was something else I could do." She took a deep breath. "I am sorry that I hurt you."

Gabriel had abandoned the door. Sybille was squirming in his arms, awake, and probably hungry again.

He looked devastated.

"I love you, Adrien," she whispered. "I love you and Gabriel and Sybille, and maybe in time I'll figure out the rest."

"Nathalie-"

"We'll see you tomorrow."

Adrien was stunned, evidently unsure of how to respond, how to even feel. Nathalie turned the camera onto Sybille and her scrunched-up, ruffled expression. "She'll be waiting. It's time to feed her again. Every two hours, they advise."

"O-oh," Adrien said, reaching for his phone on the desk. "Okay. I-I guess I'll talk to you….Nathalie?"

"Yes, Adrien?"

"I love you too. Take care of yourself."

She nodded. "Good night."

"Good night, guys."

She ended the call and placed the phone face down on the table beside her. A shiver tore down her spine. She was was freezing again.

Gabriel said, "Nathalie."

"Hand me Sybille, please."

He did. Nathalie did not feed her right away, but spent several seconds fidgeting with her clothes and running her fingertips through the sweet thing's wispy hair. Gabriel, as though he were about to lose his balance, slowly sat down, his gaze a wide gray fissure into an unguarded soul.

He said again, "Nathalie."

"Gabriel."

"How, why." He held the baby's hand, the light in his eyes trembled as if riding tumbling waves. "How could you still love me?"

"I have for years."

"That's not an answer. I hurt you deeply. I pushed you away. And yet you can still find it in you to admit how far you were willing to go just to make me happy again." He shook his head, tears glinting at the corners of his eyes. "I don't understand. I've never done a thing to deserve that. And you've done everything to deserve better than throwing your life away on a broken man."

"But I've done it, haven't I?"

He blinked at her, "What?"

"I've made you happy again." She took the little hand of Sybille's he was holding and pressed it to her lips. "Right?"

"Oh God," he said with a strangled breath. "Happier than I can say."

"I didn't throw my life away. I made it with you."

"But last year…"

"I love you," she told him, spreading her fingers over his heart, "Because you love so deeply. Because you will fight and give and sacrifice, and doesn't that sound like me? Because it takes the world turning inside out to uproot you. I know because that's what hurt me." She smiled at him. "But I see where you're standing now. I don't need any miraculous to feel how much you care."

"My dear," he murmured, quivering fingertips trailing against her cheek.

She let her head fall into his touch. "I'd give anything for you, Gabriel, but look: now, I have it all."

He kissed her, tenderly, desperately, as if there was any part of him left that she didn't believe in. Nathalie didn't need convincing. Not now. But she drank it in. She felt every crack in the glass, every chip and every scrape and every sign of something broken, but she loved the shape of it anyway. She was broken too. Maybe their jagged edges could fit together. Maybe they could make something whole.

As he started to pull away, she felt the movement of his lips against her own, "If the trade had been you," he whispered, "I wouldn't have let you go. You would have stayed by my side, Nathalie."

She leaned her forehead into his. "Well, here I am."

Chapter Text

A handwritten letter.

Gabriel had made mistakes enough when it came to ignoring messages, so as strong as was his initial instinct to toss the envelope in the recycling the moment he read the return address, he bit down on his tongue and gripped the edge of the dining room table with chalk-white fingers. After thanking Adrien's bodyguard, who'd delivered the piece of mail to him at lunch, he'd ripped open the envelope to reach the folded sheet of stationary inside. Sealed with wax. Of course it was.

Amelie kept it brief. She and Emilie were skilled calligraphers, and in fine, gorgeously swirling letters, she'd written,

Gabriel,

Because I cannot seem to reach either you or your son via electronic means, I have resorted to doing things the old-fashioned way for my final send-off. First, congratulations on dear Sybille's birth. Felix has shown me pictures. She is beautiful.

But you are probably far more interested in hearing what I have to say regarding our most recent conversation. I wanted to inform you that I have received your package and appreciate your timeliness. You can rest assured that yours and Emilie's secrets will join me in my grave. And since I have heard nothing on the matter in the news lately, I hope it is safe to assume that your son shall be keeping quiet as well.

Good for you. You are luckier than you deserve.

I hope you realize that if it weren't for Emilie, you'd be rotting in prison, but you'll be doing the same in Hell soon enough. As you move on with your new life, never forget what you owe her.

Good luck and good riddance,
Amelie Graham de Vanily

He should have known she wouldn't have been able to resist sticking it to him one final time. The Graham de Vanily's were hardly subtle people. If she wanted the last word, she could have it, and to be honest, he felt better having it in writing that she planned on hiding the truth going forward, just as she'd said she would.

She hadn't lied when she told him her promises weren't empty. If there was anything to respect the malicious woman for, it was that.

Such is what he had told Dr. Richter on the first Tuesday of August, their second session since Sybille's birth almost four weeks ago. During their first, Gabriel had clarified the whole Hawk Moth thing as best he could for his therapist, as well as summarized and reflected on his confrontations with Adrien in the meantime. Richter, expectedly but no less absurdly, had carried himself with perfect composure. Gabriel had to wonder if his secret was truly the worst the man had ever heard.

"I would have urged you not to maintain contact with Amelie myself, so I am pleased to hear that this will be the end of it. You're satisfied with the way she put things to rest?"

"The rot in Hell comment stung a little, but only as much as it admittedly made me chuckle."

Richter clicked his pen, giving the slightest shake of his head as he momentarily glanced down at his notepad. "Did you show this letter to Nathalie? How does she feel about it?"

"She was more upset by the sentiment than I was, but as anxious as she felt to have been contacted by Amelie again, I believe she is relieved to know this situation won't be taken any further. It's certainly the last thing that either of us needs, but Nathalie especially has been struggling to adjust to motherhood. This should offer some peace of mind."

"And how about Adrien?"

"I didn't show him the letter. But he isn't very concerned."

"I should ask," Richter said, glancing back up at his screen, "How have tensions continued to shift since I last saw you? Last week you mentioned that interactions between yourself and your son are 'awkward and touchy.' Has there been any change?"

Richter did not know that Adrien was Chat Noir. Such was not Gabriel's secret to disclose, but he was aware of the extent to which Gabriel possessed guilt over endangering his son. He thought it was due to being Hawk Moth at all. Of course, some insight into the true source of Gabriel's shame regarding Adrien would have been helpful for them both, but it simplified things that Adrien was insistent his identity didn't matter.

"Adrien and I have talked extensively, almost in circles," Gabriel answered. "He understands the 'why', but now and then, he will recall a particular akuma attack, a certain example of brutality, and he will struggle to accept the wrongdoing as mine. He doesn't want to believe I was as cruel as I'd been in those situations. I don't want to either."

"You told me you didn't regret your efforts. Has that changed?"

"It's complicated. I think that on a broad, abstract scale, no. I don't regret how hard I tried. But I might regret what that means."

"Does he know that?"

"I have yet to form conclusive feelings on the matter," Gabriel sighed.

"What you have said is sensible to me. If you decide that is how you feel, tell him that. It is important that the two of you continue to communicate comprehensively, even if it seems that you are having very cyclical interactions. Little changes, little moments of progress, will come. Have patience, and don't force anything."

"Having the baby around helps," Gabriel said.

Richter nodded. "Yes, you have said before that Adrien adores her."

"Nathalie is very overwhelmed with Sybille's care and her own recovery. She receives counseling, but it's a lot for her. Adrien has been a great help. When we are focused on the baby, the tension is gone."

"That common ground will be crucial to the improvement of your relationship. Avoid using her as an excuse to delay necessary work on your connection, but appreciate the fact that your whole family wants the same thing: the best for Sybille."

Gabriel felt the stretch of a small smile across his lips and glanced down from the screen.

He'd used the baby once, but it wasn't against Adrien. Days after bringing Sybille home from the hospital, Adrien approached Gabriel and Nathalie with a glaring kwami trailing behind him, holding his right hand in a fist in front of his chest. The sight had been imposing, and Gabriel, who was sitting on the edge of their bed at Nathalie's side, snapped to his feet with a glare of his own to ask, "What is going on?"

"I have something to show you," Adrien said, and transformed before either had the chance to respond. The baby slept in a bassinet near the foot of a bed, or else Gabriel worried she would have been frightened by the electric burst of light in their dim room.

"Adrien," he barked, heart skipping a beat at the sight of his former enemy standing in front of them.

"It's good news," said his son, and he stepped closer with his baton. Nathalie leaned over to get a closer look, her shakenness at the sudden transformation wearing off as she caught sight of the small screen he was trying to show them.

"How do you read that? The text is tiny," grumbled Gabriel, removing his glasses with a squint.

"It's from Ladybug," Chat Noir told him.

"I assumed that much."

Nathalie read, "If they agree to an unequivocally peaceable surrender, I'll agree to keep it secret." Her eyes flashed as she looked up at Chat Noir. "If we surrender?"

"The miraculous," he clarified. "Not yourselves."

"Why would she concede to that? Why wouldn't she want us punished?"

"What have you told her?" demanded Gabriel.

"Not your identities," said Chat Noir. He sat on the bed and scrolled through his messages. "I hate having to hide things from her. We're not supposed to lie to each other, but I've been wanting to find a way to protect my family and return to Ladybug what she has the right to as guardian, and this is the way to do it."

"We were supposed to talk about this, Adrien. I didn't want to give up the miraculous."

"And I didn't want to be untruthful, but it looks like I must."

"Watch your tone," Gabriel warned.

"I'm sorry. But I have to ask, Father, what did you think? That you could keep the miraculous forever and never have to worry about what happened to them?" He looked between Gabriel and Nathalie, who had no answer to offer him. "This is the story. I never found out your identities, but Hawk Moth realized I was on his trail and confronted me. We had a tense but civil discussion in which he promised to hand over the miraculous if I promised that he and Mayura's identities wouldn't be exposed."

"And Ladybug is sure to hold to those conditions?" Nathalie murmured.

"Yes, that's what I mean by good news."

"What do you think, Gabriel?" she asked, turning to her partner. Anxious blue eyes gazed widely at him.

"I think…" Behind him, Sybille made a little noise in her sleep, and he paced around the bed to stand over her. With the tip of his index finger, he stroked her fist and released a long, quiet sigh, felt the way the air moved around the weight pressing low in his heart. "I think if this is the only way you can think to put this behind us, we will have to try it."

Nathalie had directed him to the butterfly and peacock miraculous, which she'd hidden in the breast pocket of a blazer he'd rarely seen her wear. Chat tried to take them, but Gabriel shook his head.

"What?"

"I have to come with you. If you give these to her yourself, she will question if you don't really know who I am."

"You're not going to hand them over."

"Hawk Moth will," he said.

He'd heard Nathalie inhale sharply.

"I'm going to come right home," he promised. "I'll be gone for a few minutes only."

"I know, it's fine," she breathed. White knuckles curled around her arms, fingernails bit into skin.

"Nathalie."

"I trust you. Don't talk about it. Just go."

He'd given her the baby before leaving the room.

Meeting Ladybug again after so many absent months had been more nerve-wracking than he'd anticipated. She was on guard from the moment she caught sight of Chat Noir's approach with Hawk Moth right on his tail. With a tense grip fastened around her yo-yo and blue eyes peeling a layer of skin off his body, Ladybug looked prepared to make any move at a second's notice. Chat had warned him, by the way their conversations had gone, her promise of peace came barbed. He was advised to speak as little as possible, to move as slowly as possible, to do what she asked when she asked it, and for the sake of keeping their relationship hidden, be ready for Chat to give off an air of hostility as well.

"I don't like that you're alone," Ladybug said immediately.

Pressing his lips together, he offered her a wordless shrug.

"He's the only one I've communicated with," said Chat Noir, trying to help.

"I know. But aren't you also curious to know if his partner is even still around? Given his whole Shadow Moth phase, I've had to wonder what happened to her."

"Who cares? He has the peacock miraculous."

Hawk Moth flashed the brooch at them, and Ladybug scowl twisted skeptically.

"I see," she muttered.

"We aren't here to talk about her," Hawk Moth said. "Now, how is this going to work? I will be walking out of here with my identity intact, as agreed upon."

Ladybug held up a hand. "Hold tight, there. You must have anticipated I'd have some questions for you."

"I have very few, if any, answers. I'll give you the miraculous and be on my way."

Chat Noir, standing about halfway between his partner and his former enemy, flicked his eyes between them nervously.

"I don't know how you can think you'll be leaving without so much as an explanation for your actions or your sudden disappearance last year."

"You agreed all I had to do was peaceably surrender."

"And you will as soon as you provide the information I'm asking for."

Hawk Moth glanced at his son, flashed him what he hoped was a subtle look for assistance.

"What?" she'd said, after a long pause. "It's not unreasonable of me to want to understand what I have spent all those months of my life fighting against."

"No, of course not," Chat murmured, staring at his feet. "I think Hawk Moth is concerned that he would compromise his identity by answering you."

"I'm sure he is."

"Should I detransform in an alley and leave the miraculous there for you to find?" Hawk Moth hoped that by cutting to the point, Ladybug would tire of this weak interrogation.

"How can I trust that you don't have some kind of plan to attack? I've made fake miraculous before," Ladybug said, gesturing at his fist balled around the peacock brooch.

"What, you think Mayura is lying in wait to ambush?"

"I'm only saying, this supposed surrender of yours seems all too easy for me. I haven't forgotten how relentless you were for a whole year before you seemingly vanished off the face of the earth. I also haven't forgotten that you almost came back. How am I meant to be convinced that you're ready to relinquish whatever goal you'd been chasing for all that time?"

Hawk Moth had bitten his tongue, wary that his thinning patience would have him say something either too revealing or too offensive for the heroine's appreciation.

"Chat Noir," she quipped, turning to your partner. "Do you really believe him?"

He'd seemed to choose his words carefully. "I have suspicions of my own, my Lady. But remember, I have been on his trail for days. He had the opportunity to catch me alone, by surprise, and he never did. Why would he wait until now, when we're both together and have more of a chance of taking him down?"

This made her think. Pursing her lips, Ladybug tapped a foot on the concrete rooftop where they stood. After a moment, she said, "You have a point, Chat. But that still doesn't solve my concerns regarding the whereabouts of Mayura. As long as she isn't present, I must be on edge."

"She's not here for a reason," said Hawk Moth.

Ladybug's brow quirked. Chat Noir shot him a look of panic.

Sighing, Hawk Moth tossed the peacock brooch at Ladybug, who deflected it with a spin of her yo-yo.

"What," he scoffed, "Did you think it would explode?"

It had landed near Chat, who scooped it off the concrete and made a show of studying its reflections of the yellow summer moonlight off its curved edges. "Looks legit to me, my Lady."

He approached her and clasped it in her hand. Ladybug's stare narrowed as she looked it over, and then, after a mere couple heartbeats, her expression softened. "Oh-"

"It's the real thing. Fixed, good as new."

"What do you mean fixed? It was broken?"

Solemnly, he dipped his chin.

Ladybug closed her fist around the miraculous. "I'd had no idea."

"As you can infer, Mayura is not around, and I have no ulterior motives for being here. But you seemed to, considering I was led to believe this surrender would go smoothly, and you have been nothing but difficult since I arrived."

"'Difficult', sure," she mumbled, "if you call caution in the presence of a terrorist, difficult."

A low growl rumbled in his throat.

"Ladybug," Chat Noir said gently, setting a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't apologize for the fact that my duties as both superhero and guardian have made me a little jaded." She dropped the peacock brooch into the magic storage space her yo-yo provided, her pointed glare briefly flaring with the reflection of glittering pink light. "It also doesn't help your case that you were spotted trying to akumatize two people just a few months ago. I might have been more gracious had this conversation happened sooner. Is it too much to ask that you bear with me for a few minutes after you put Paris through the wringer, like, two hundred times?"

This had been the point where Hawk Moth dared to take a risk. Staring across several meters of wide open space into the unwavering visage of his former enemy, he grew less and less confident that his vague responses would set her mind at ease while she believed he was the same man who rigorously terrorized her city. And he was the same man in reality, the one that existed outside of his own head and the more favorable perceptions of the loved ones of which he fought for pride and forgiveness.

She had no reason to budge. She had no insight into the last several months of arduous transformation, no eyes on the inside of his chrysalis.

When he looked at his son, he saw someone who could have been just as belligerent to meet him here, had he only not known.

So, Hawk Moth had said something that he probably should not have said, something that, if he hadn't been sure that there was still a compassionate soul beneath the hardened shell of this heroine standing before him, could have given her a possible lead into who he was, the magnetic pull to justice.

He'd said,

"Mayura isn't with me because she is at home. Taking care of our baby."

Chat Noir's eyes went round as saucers, his jaw nearly breaking against concrete.

At his side, Ladybug went stiff. The yo-yo would have fallen out of her grip had she not already had an iron hold on it.

"Your baby?" she whispered.

"I'd like to give her a better life than the one I would have doomed her to had I been so foolish as to continue my original pursuit," he went on.

"Hawk Moth," Chat Noir said, a warning. He was saying too much.

"Please, Ladybug, allow me to unburden myself of this miraculous and begin my new life with my family."

"Chat," Ladybug murmured, turning to look at her partner. "Did you know about this?"

His ears folded back. "I…"

Some light of understanding dawned across Ladybug's face and the entirety of her obstinate, rigid being slackened. She stared at her partner. They exchanged a thousand words through the channel of their burning gazes.

"I told Mayura I would be back quickly. I don't want her to worry. She's been through a lot."

"Ladybug," Chat Noir started.

"Hold on. Save it for just a second." Ladybug pulled out a spotted jewelry box and slid it across the concrete towards Hawk Moth. "Very well." Her voice quivered. "You can detransform in an alley and leave the miraculous behind. We will wait three minutes before following after."

"Promise me you will not seek my identity."

"That was the agreement," she said.

Shrouded in darkness untouched by streetlight or moon, Gabriel had uttered his detransformation phrase for the last time, and unpinned the miraculous from his shirt.

"Nooroo," he said to the wide-eyed kwami hovering beside the box in his hand, "This is goodbye."

With a small dip of his head, the creature offered a dignified smile. His gaze's low glimmer sparked the slightest burn in Gabriel's chest, this sudden and all-too-delayed realization that he did not deserve even this small bid of politeness from the one who he had treated with such coldness and cruelty.

But before Gabriel could even speak the beginnings of an inevitably inadequate apology, Nooroo flickered the wings on his back and waved a hand. "Goodbye, Master. I am glad you are happier now. I wish you well."

Gabriel's throat tightened. Without another word, he placed the brooch in the jewelry box and snapped it closed. Nooroo kindled into a ball of purple light and swam through the air to be absorbed into the box.

The heroes would come to find the miraculous in a matter of minutes, and he needed to leave before they could encounter him. There hadn't been enough time to say anything more than that. But he should have said it all a lot sooner.

Richter knew about this too. And he'd told Gabriel that as long as he was hoping to keep this secret between himself and his family, there would always be others, countless others, who he would never get the chance to make amends with. An entire city had borne the weight of his grief, and at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Nooroo, gracious as ever, was glad for him.

After the session, once Gabriel and Richter signed off and offered their well wishes for the week, Gabriel traveled upstairs, and passing by the nursery, found his son standing in the middle of the room with the baby in his arms. Adrien gently bounced his sister, eyes aimed out the window into the clear August morning. Sybille was whining, her hands grasping at empty air for something to hold. Plagg lay across Adrien's shoulder, nibbling on a wedge of cheese.

Gabriel knocked on the door frame. "Everything alright?"

Adrien turned on his heels to greet his father, stirring his kwami with a grunt. "Oh, you're done."

"Just got out."

"Yeah, we're fine over here. Nathalie just fed her, I don't know why she's being fussy."

"I relate, baby girl. Sometimes, I just wanna scream at the world too," grumbled Plagg, mouthful of camembert.

"Where's Nathalie now?" Gabriel asked his son.

"Grabbing a shower."

Gabriel crossed the room and picked his daughter out of Adrien's arms. Sybille, not yet a month old, was growing fast and proving not to have a clear cut routine. She wasn't an excessively needy baby, but it was impossible to predict when and why she might start to get upset. Her irregularity was a challenge to adjust to, for her parents in particular. "Perhaps, she's tired. She kept us up almost all last night."

"I tried to leave her in her crib but she won't go down."

"She doesn't need a change." Gabriel pressed his daughter's head up to his chest, swaying on his feet. Sybille whimpered and kicked her legs. "I've got her. You said you had plans today, right?"

Adrien mindlessly twirled the mobile above the crib. It was missing a few pieces. Gabriel hadn't found the time to fix it yet. "Yeah, but if you need me here to help with Syb…"

"It's fine, Adrien. You can allow Nathalie and I to be the parents."

"I know. I just don't want to make a habit of running off."

"I will make it very clear when I don't approve of you busying yourself with other things."

His son chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure of that. It's just...you're fine with this? Like, really fine?" He fiddled with his miraculous. "I know we haven't really talked about what this means. I would understand if you and Nathalie were uncomfortable, but that's why we should maybe have a conversation, because I've felt a certain way for a long time and I know it's right for me, but you-"

"Adrien," Gabriel sighed. He kissed fidgeting Sybille's head. "Don't worry about it."

"Marinette's awesome." Adrien smiled fondly, looking at his feet. "She doesn't really - I mean we don't really, you know, talk about…"

"Hawk Moth and Mayura?" Gabriel said.

Plagg finished his cheese wedge, narrow eyes flicking between his holder and Gabriel.

"I'm just saying. When Marinette and I started hanging out a few weeks ago all of the sudden, I figured that you knew why."

"I know why. And so does Nathalie. It's okay, son."

"But if she knows who I am, then-"

"She knows the whole story." Gabriel took a seat in the armchair, motioning for a burp cloth as Sybille began to curl up against him. "I figured I was taking a risk, mentioning the baby. I'd had a feeling for a while that Ladybug was a peer of yours. If she knew about your new sister, then she could put two-and-two together, particularly with the timing of it all. She'd question the coincidence anyway, I saw it in her face."

Adrien tossed him the cloth. "But you knew she'd care too much."

"I had to appeal to the hero in her."

"You know, if things between us go the way I hope, we might have to talk about it one day, all of us."

"Oh! Now I'd kill to witness a confrontation like that," Plagg laughed, earning a glare from his uneasy holder.

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get there. Don't get ahead of yourself, Adrien. Just try to enjoy yourself today."

"You aren't worried?"

He was Gabriel. Of course he was worried. "We're moving forward, Adrien. All of us."

"It's still weird to hear you say that." His son took a deep breath and gave him a small nod. "Okay. Text me if you need anything. I'll just be down the street."

"Go on."

He and Plagg sailed out of the room. With the back of his hand, Gabriel stroked the cheek of the infant on his chest, who was still awake, but gradually calming down. Shiny eyes blinked at him, then off into space, before her eyelids fell closed and she gave a whimpering yawn.

"Somehow, darling," he murmured, turning his head to the window, "You were the key to us all getting what we wanted. What magic is worth that much?"

At times, she felt like she really couldn't do this.

The first thing to become real whenever she woke up - before the moonlit ceiling, before the warmth of her partner at her side - was the sound of crying. She knew what it was the second it split through her dreams, wailing from the bassinet by the bed or, more recently, crackling from the baby monitor on the bedside table. Most nights, Nathalie could answer the call with instinctual immediacy; others, she lied as if paralyzed, looking every direction but in that of the noise. It was hard not to feel like a failure those times, even though she simply didn't know how to force her body to move, even though Gabriel was always ready to tend to the cries she couldn't. When Sybille was hungry, he would sit on the edge of the bed, rocking her tenderly, waiting in patient silence through the minute or two it took Nathalie to finally sit herself up and hold her arms out for her baby.

She never knew what to expect. Sybille would go entire nights without crying, leaving Nathalie to lie anxiously awake, actually praying for a sound. Other nights, she'd wail for hours. Nathalie didn't know how to manage her own energy, when to be most alert, when to let her guard down. She was on edge until she burned out. When she burned out, she asked herself how she could have possibly lived in a world where she would have had to do this on her own.

Tonight, she quivered there on the precipice, powered on just enough steam to sit up so that her head rocked forward. Tangled strands of hair fell out of her perpetual ponytail and brushed the sides of her face. Sybille wailed and wailed, cries low, voice breaking electronically.

She heard the rustle of sheets over her shoulder. As Gabriel rose out of bed with a tired grunt, Nathalie felt herself shrink. Her fingers curled, nails biting into her palms. The window was open, the curtains shifted, and a breeze cooled the sheen of sweat across her face. Nathalie's chest was tight. Quick, shallow breaths burned at the top of her lungs.

As if rationalizing this feeling could help, Louise had told her, "It's chemical."

Chemical and excruciating and God, she wanted to throw the baby monitor into the wall and that scared her.

Nathalie winced. She sunk her fists into her eye sockets and tried to hold her breath.

"Love." Gabriel's voice came from above her. His hand pressed a circle between her shoulder blades.

She shook her head, croaked out, "Syb."

"I'll get her in a second. Are you okay?"

"Please, just-" She raised her eyes to him, squinted through the dark to make out his face. "I wish she - I wish I -"

"You can stay here, Nathalie. I'll take care of it. It will be alright."

"Why am I so bad at this?"

"You're not bad. You're doing just fine."

"How am I supposed to keep going?"

Gabriel was going to reply, but Sybille's cry surged through the monitor, and Nathalie hung her head.

"Please get her," Nathalie urged him. "Go."

He left a kiss on her temple and walked off. As his faint footsteps faded into the hallway, Nathalie tried to pull herself together. She needed to breathe. Breathing came first, and past that, she didn't know what to do. Break something or cry or look into medication or calm down because the sun was rising soon, and the morning tended to tame things so terrifying in the dark. She needed more sleep. That wasn't really an option. Telling herself she was just tired felt better than wondering if she'd lost her mind.

"Hey, darling." Gabriel's voice interrupted their daughter's continuous string of cries. Nathalie glanced at the baby monitor and pictured the movements she'd seen before a hundred times: he trailed a pair of fingers down Sybille's round, pink cheek first; she turned her face towards his touch, and her wails quieted, just slightly; then, he picked her up out of the crib, pressing her first to his heart, and then laying her across his arms and hushing her gently.

"Shh, shh, shh," Nathalie heard.

She pictured him rotating slowly, eyes sweeping across the nursery and the photos on the wall until he faced the door. He waited a second, or two or three, before he departed and started making his way back. Sybille's cries faded out of the monitor and grew louder from behind. From the hall. Nathalie sighed and turned to look at the door, and at the same moment, Gabriel came walking back in.

"I think I have to feed her," she murmured.

With the lights switched and the glasses on her face, Nathalie saw clearer, more than what was just in front of her eyes. Sybille was quiet now, twitching her fingers and feeding with her eyes open. Nathalie believed she would look more like Gabriel when she was older, judging by that little nose and her light hair. Her baby's eyes were just so pretty.

Gabriel was returning from the bathroom, and as he crawled back into bed, Nathalie noted the dull exhaustion in his face, the stiffness of his movements and the low groan in his throat as he settled in.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He blinked at her. "Hm?"

"For keeping a level head when I can't."

The corner of Gabriel's mouth lifted in a sympathetic smirk and he clasped her knee.

"I don't know why I get like that," Nathalie said.

"Like what?"

"Frozen and panicked. Look, she's fine."

He raised a silver eyebrow at her. "Are you?"

Through the length of a deep sigh, Nathalie contemplated this. "I don't know. This will happen again."

"Having a baby is overwhelming, Nathalie. It's okay."

"It doesn't feel okay. It feels awful."

He moved closer and softly pressed her head to his shoulder. She hadn't noticed until he touched her that there was still so much tension in her body she didn't know how to release.

"I knew I wouldn't be a natural at this," she mumbled.

"I promise, you're doing incredible. At every doctor visit, we've been told Sybille is healthy. She's eating well, she's at the right weight, motor skills are developing properly."

"I know."

"She's going to be fine."

Nathalie gazed at their daughter. "I love her so much. I want to do this right."

"You and I both," said Gabriel. His voice was liquid lead. He'd told her before, many times now, how terribly he wanted to avoid making the same mistakes with Sybille that he had with Adrien, how he wanted to be present and engaged and unafraid of the way their lives could change over the years. He didn't want to be there in the beginning only to grow more distant as Sybille aged. He didn't want to waste his second chance. He didn't want to think of the first as a failure, and yet…

Exhaling faintly, she turned her face into his neck and whispered, "You've been so good."

"It's been a lot of conscious effort. I am no natural either."

"God," she exclaimed, "what are we doing here, then?"

"All that we can, I suppose." Gabriel pressed his lips to Nathalie's forehead. "It's working for now."

"What if it stops working?"

"Nathalie…"

"You know I can't help but worry we're making it by luck alone."

He pulled back to look straight at her. "Would you call the last eight months 'luck'?"

"I don't know," she murmured. The baby was finished with her, letting out some small, fast-paced grunts as she unlatched and blinked at her mother contentedly. Nathalie lifted her up to her shoulder and patted her back. She continued, "I suppose I am not sure how else we could have made it so far."

Gabriel shook his head at her, gaze radiating a silvery grief. "I couldn't consider us lucky. I have almost lost you multiple times."

"We're still standing. Seems like luck to me."

"No, I'll tell you the truth. You're making it, because you're strong. You never take the credit, but I know you, Nathalie," he said, squeezing her knee.

She looked down and leaned her head into Sybille's.

Gabriel sighed. "Please, you know Fortune has no reason to favor us. I am sure it would be beating us down if I didn't do a thorough enough job of near-ruining things myself." She scoffed at this, but didn't have the chance to reply before he went on, "I know that when life is hard, it can feel so senseless that you are surviving it anyway, but I promise it isn't by chance. There is a reason. You were mine when I'd lost Emilie, when I'd lost myself trying to bring her back. I woke up every morning wondering how I could live like I did, and the answer was because I always had you. I had someone fighting with me. And in Adrien, I had someone to fight for."

Her heart clenched. "You and your heartfelt confessions," she breathed, trying to stop herself from getting emotional.

He leaned closer. "Some days, I thought Fortune cruel to let me go on as I did. I felt trapped sometimes. Most of the time. In this unbreaking cycle of failure. Fortune had nothing to do with it, dear. I was my own enemy, and you were the reason I could keep going in spite of myself."

"I would have fought forever," she whispered. When she glanced back up, the adoration in his eyes struck her like the heart-shaking burst of a firework.

"I know," he said. "That's how I know that there's nothing lucky about us, Nathalie. We're surviving because you're relentless, and you're teaching me how to be."

She didn't know how to reply, so she just kissed him instead. Gabriel smiled and took Sybille from her arms, placing her in the bassinet instead of bringing her back to the nursery.

"I couldn't be happier," he said quietly, reaching down to adjust the little blue hat Sybille was wearing.

Nathalie, buttoning up her shirt, tried to swallow the ache at the back of her throat. Despite everything, the exhaustion and the fear and whatever else was in the night that made them difficult to bear, she knew she was happy too. If she said it, she'd cry, so she sat there silently and then -

"Actually." Gabriel turned around, and the weary man she'd watched climb into bed minutes earlier was outshone by the bright, hopeful expression on his face.

"What? What is that look?"

"It just occurred to me, that isn't true."

"What isn't true?"

"That I couldn't be happier."

"What do you mean?" she asked him, tilting her head.

He paced in small steps back to the bed, seeming to her unusually coy. "There is...one thing that I am sure could make me the happiest man in the world."

The breath slowly trailed out of her lungs in a steady exhale, and then failed to draw back in.

Gabriel sat on the bed and took her hand, raising it up to his lips for a tender kiss. His eyes glimmered. "It's something I've been thinking about for a while."

She couldn't say more than a weak, "What?" But she knew.

A low chuckle made her stomach flutter. "Forgive me for the informality. I know it's four in the morning, and I did have something else planned, but the moment feels right for me to ask you, Nathalie Sancoeur, if you'll truly make me as happy as I could be?"

"Oh. Gabriel…"

"My dear," he murmured, squeezing her hand, holding her gaze with his own teeming with love and longing, "Will you marry me?"

Cupping his jaw, Nathalie drew him closer, a warm, aching smile stretching across her cheeks. She gave a little nod, a little laugh.

"Is that a yes?"

She told him, "Yes, Gabriel. In a heartbeat."

He leaned his forehead against her own. "I love you, Nathalie."

"I love you too."

Following a long, ardent kiss, Gabriel opened his bedside drawer and pulled out the black velvet box. He presented the ring to Nathalie, something unsurprisingly elegant but gorgeously simple, an unadorned white gold band with an oval-cut diamond and a pair of small rubies on either side of it, the birthstone of their daughter.

"I bought it the day we brought Sybille home," he said, fitting it on her finger. "I've been wanting to ask for a long time. It took me three weeks to decide how I wanted to do it. I was going to treat you to a nice dinner, a new dress, roses, a private concert by some violinists, because I know you used to play, the moment we had the opportunity for an actual date night. And you would have known something was up because I was going to let Adrien spend the night with a friend."

"Oh my, you really would have given it your all," she chuckled, admiring the ring. It was perfect.

"But none of that could have encapsulated how much I love you Nathalie," he said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "The only thing that could come close was asking you when it felt right in my heart. And it felt right just now, here with our baby, telling you how amazed and grateful I am for having you in my life." A tear streamed down his cheek, and she caught it with her thumb. "I could have opened my eyes a million years ago, and it wouldn't have been soon enough."

"You have me now," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "For the rest of our lives."

It took some time for the high of their emotions to gradually wind down. Nathalie turned off the light and climbed under the covers to curl up into Gabriel's side. With his arm around her, his warmth coaxed her gradually into sleep. She could hear her baby breathe. She could feel her lover's pulse. She rubbed a circle into his chest until she knew he'd drifted off.

Nathalie inhaled and exhaled into the dark.

She would wake when Sybille cried, and reach out to hold her against her brimming heart.