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The bright green leaves fairly seem to glow with the sun behind them. Even Normandy gets it’s share of fine clear days despite the stereotype, and she makes a mental note to check if they need watering after. She hasn’t been painstakingly caring for the pots of hers just for them to dry out now.
And painstaking is the word. Nathalie’s not a natural gardener. She was always capable of being patient, but it was a different type of patience, one where if she just worked hard enough then her effort would eventually pay off or at least time would pay off with an ending, but this more uncertain thing of waiting for growth that she can't do anything to speed up used to be beyond her.
Nor was nurturing an intrinsic part of her nature despite her best efforts with Adrien over the years, wherever because she’s naturally lacking herself, or just because she never had the role models to show her how.
Yet here she is.
She's made her peace with the things she can't change.
Sometimes you fail.
And sometimes you grow.
Movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention but it's only her own reflection in the mirror. She stops by it and considers her own reflection.
Silver streaks through her dark hair and she wonders if she should have dyed it. It's something she keeps toying with before discarding the idea. She’s the age she is, what’s the use of pretending otherwise?
Though, and maybe it’s the leftover claws the fashion industry still has in her, she can't help but check her face over before grabbing a subtle pink lipstain to add a little warmth, before nodding in approval.
All in all she thinks she’s less marked by the sins and pain of her past than maybe she ought to be. But then she'd never thought the world was fair and she'll take this win for herself.
The chime of the doorbell announces her expected visitor.
She takes him in as she opens the door, looking up to his ruffled blonde hair and then with some concern past the shadows under his eyes and to the ring still on his finger, and ruefully notes it’s a good idea she bought extra cheese in this week.
“Adrien,” she smiles.
“Nathalie,” he beams back, catching her up in a hug that is a little too tight to enjoy for all she loves him.
“You didn't have to come up to visit.” Once he releases her. “A video call would have sufficed.”
Mock-stern, he crosses his arms, “it's your birthday and knowing you you were planning to going to spend it all alone if I didn't bother to come.”
Struck by the opposite of déjà-vu, she can't help but see how Adrien’s grown more to physically resemble Gabriel as an adult than they’d ever thought he would back when they’d thought he was Emilie entirely, just as it's hammered in that Gabriel would never have worn that expression on his face.
Gabriel had had a sense of humour. She might be the only one who remembers that now. But his sternness had always been serious. A façade over other more soft or conflicted emotions at times certainly. But never a joke.
It takes her longer than it should to say, “you know I like my solitude, and besides, I'll have you know I am meeting an old friend for dinner as it happens.”
The thought makes her smile. She is looking forward to it. It's been years since she last saw Thierry, his work only infrequently bringing him back to France.
“Ooh,” Adrien grins, “a date?”
“Not a date. These old bones don’t have the energy for that type of excitement.”
Once she might have considered it. Thierry was always easy on the eyes, and great fun to be around, never mind having a brilliant mind but he's also very much not one for commitment and Nathalie has no interest in being the one left behind.
Adrien's frowning again, not jokingly this time, “you know you’re not that old.”
Chronologically perhaps not, though having Adrien be old enough to say that and mean it certainly makes her think so. But if experience counts for anything she certainly is and well.... Nathalie’s not delusional.
It's hard to be when she’s still reliant on that exoskeleton when she leaves the house for any length of time, she's forgotten what it feels like not to get tired easily, and sometimes she wakes up in pain no doctor can diagnose.
She knows her life won’t be as long as it would have been had she never worn that Miraculous. By this metric she’s far enough through it to call herself that, and she'll just continue to count her blessings that she didn't wear it any more.
That she didn't die back then. That she got to watch Adrien marry. To see Emma’s birth. To find peace.
“I am semi-retired,” she reminds him.
“That's not...,” he trails off.
Nathalie jumps at the chance to change the subject, “tea? Or I could brew some coffee.”
Adrien doesn't look happy but he follows her to the kitchen. “Tea thanks, Marinette’s trying to reduce her caffeine after we found out it was literally giving her headaches so I’m trying to reduce mine in solidarity to make it less hard on her.”
“That's good of you,” Nathalie says as she turns the kettle on.
“Hmm,” Adrien slumps down in the seat, chin on his arms, “I just wish I could do more to lessen the burden on her.”
Nathalie doesn't turn around as she reaches for the tea bags. Despite the years, and the therapy, and Adrien’s marriage to a woman whom Gabriel’s akumas had forged an already existing tendency to force an issue to be aired so it can be fixed into a pillar of her personality, Nathalie and Adrien are still Nathalie and Adrien.
They have their own ways to discuss this.
So she pretends it takes her a while to find something right in front of her, “as Chat Noir?”
“Chat Noir does what he can. I'm not sure I can improve there but...”
“But?”
“I don't know. Maybe she would be better off with another husband. It's impractical us both being superheroes. With Emma and...”
The ghosts of the other children that they’d hoped for but hadn’t come linger in the air. It's more by choice than aught else as much as Nathalie knows, but it's a choice forced upon them.
She knows a little about that.
Funny how you can feel the loss of even things never thought you wanted.
She carries the mugs over to the table, “and it would have an impractical if you weren’t both superheroes. She’d always be worrying about you too and you'd never really understand each other. Besides, who better than her husband by her side for understanding her?”
“I know but maybe, if she had a husband and a Miraculous partner then....”
“And here I thought you had the power to duplicate. I’d have thought she might appreciate that type of thing.”
“Nathalie,” Adrien flushes red.
She shrugs, and pushes the mug he hasn't taken to her. “If you weren’t Chat Noir you'd be complaining about other things.”
“I don't know how my father managed it.” Adrien sighs, “even before Hawk Moth. How did he and my mother do all? How did they make his brand what it was while....”
Nathalie considers before answering. It's a harsh rejoinder but then Adrien’s been the one to bring up Gabriel. The conversations not going to go lightly from here.
So she raises an eyebrow. “Your mother had no compunctions about creating sentimonsters to do anything she needed. That tends to make things easier.”
“Right,” Adrien winces.
“And for a long time they could move at their own pace. They weren’t forced to fight like you two are. And after, when they were, well. They had me.”
It’s wrong to take pride in something like that, and she hadn’t right after it all went down, but these days she can. Just like how these days she can remember the good times. Can remember the Gabriel she’d loved, and why.
Adrien too seems over any upheaval talking of the past could have brought up with him. “I know. I know. We need to hire someone we can trust with the truth, at least to help with Emma but all our friends have their own lives, and,”
“So hire someone new. Or new-ish. Someone from the company, or who one of your friends can vouch for.”
They have enough of them after all. Much as Nathalie has mended connections she'd let fray once she’d began to work full time for the Agrestes and has slowly developed more since as she’d slowly rebuilt a career more akin to her original one, to her the deep constant intimacy they have with their fellow heroes seems exhausting.
“But what if we make the wrong choice?” his whine belongs to a much younger boy. One Nathalie had tutored once.
“Marinette has been choosing wielders for those Miraculous for years now.” She reminds him, “I think she's capable of picking someone.”
“I know. I just.”
“You can't run yourself ragged trying to be everything for someone. It’s not possible, even if you,” devote yourself so much you barely have wants of your own, “well. Take it from me.”
The storm on Adrien’s face lightens a little, and the corners of his lips tip upwards, “I suppose I can’t argue with that coming from you.”
“And your parents were wrong by the way.”
“Well I know that. But which particular bad idea of theirs are you talking about?”
“I'm sorry but you're not perfect Adrien. In retrospect I think that should have been obvious to everyone that time you decided to walk in the house covered in mud. Or the time you decided to cook. Or that time,”
“Ok, ok, I get it. Marinette isn't here for you to amuse. You can lay off.”
“I like remembering little you. You were adorable.” She'd only began to know him really when Emilie had become ill and she’d suddenly found herself caring for him but she'd had her run-ins with the Agreste’s rambunctious little son over the years before that too.
They’d both been so proud of him then. She likes to think that despite how they’d hate his choices they could have learnt to be proud of the man he’s become. That somewhere they are.
“I know,” Adrien’s smirk hides scars of this own, “every article mentioning me back then says so.”
“Oh. I wouldn't trust those.” She rolls her eyes, “anyway, what have you got for me?”
Adrien reaches into the backpack he's been lugging around, “I don’t know how you see through me like that.”
A wave of affection for her boy comes over her, “I know you Adrien.”
“I suppose you do.”
She takes the plastic wrapped documents from him. And flicks her eyes over the contents, as a frown starts to form on her face. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Alim. This is more his era than mine.”
“He’s in hospital again,” Adrien’s apologetic, “we didn’t want to bother him.”
“Oh.” Despite it all she can’t help but still find these moments awkward despite the fact the news does unsettle her. She’d liked Bunnyx’s father whenever she’d had reason to interact with him. He’d been intelligent and Nathalie’s always valued that in a person.
Had she not seen him with his daughter and suddenly been swallowed by a pit of guilt as she’d seen how a parent could be, should be, and never been quite able to climb out of it whenever she interacted with him after she might have found a friend in him.
Might have found more than a friend in other circumstances.
“Give him and his family my well-wishes,” she defaults to the well-worn script available for such conversations. She’s practised enough at doing that.
She must try and send, maybe not flowers since no doubt they already have those, but something to make her condolences a little more tangible though. Maybe something useful. She’ll think about it tomorrow when she’s not people about.
“I will,” Adrien commits with a nod, “will you be able to make sense of that?”
“Hmm,” she considers what he’s given her again, “certainly with help but….”
“I trust your judgement on how much to share,” Adrien does a smile with a hint of a smirk when she vaguely remembers from…not so much Emilie herself but a photograph she’d seen of the woman with Madame Tsurugi before she’d ever met her.
It’s one that’s pleased with her, and Nathalie isn’t the girl nor the woman she was, desperate for any praise coming her way, but it touches her nonetheless to know that maybe she’s no Guardian trusted to give out Miraculous jewellery but she is trusted in this.
“I’ll get it sorted then,” she gets up to store it something safe.
Adrien shakes his head as she gets back in and takes a sip of his tea. “I’m sorry. I meant to come up here to see you and all I’ve done is talk about work and complain at you.”
“It’s alright,” she shrugs, “we all need to vent. It’s nice knowing you can talk to me.”
Adrien reaches out to squeeze her hand for a second, “I don’t thank you enough for all you do for me.”
“That’s unnecessary.” Nathalie demurs.
His thanks feel awkward against her skin.
She acted too late. It’s not something she can change but she did, and things would have probably been better if she hadn’t.
She’s not the person he thinks she is despite that she’d told him why she’d done it before she’d ever known he was the person she was telling.
She could do more for him. But much as she loves Adrien it’s not enough for her to leave the oasis of peace she’s created for herself and move back to Paris for him.
She loves him even more for the fact that even earlier when he was complaining he didn’t ask her to.
“Come on,” she stands up, “why don’t we go for a walk? Some country air will do you good.”
“Alright,” he follows her, “I’ll buy you something ridiculously sweet in the local patisserie if you promise not to tell Marinette.”
“Get me a slice of apple tart and you can put it down to valuing local heritage or something.”
“Still always thinking of how to spin things?” But his grin softens any possible criticism.
She shrugs, “it’s a hard mindset to shrug off.”
It’s a long walk to the village but they keep the chatter lighter. Updates on mutual acquaintances, and on some of Adrien’s friends she’d came to know after it all. How Emma’s doing at school. How the new exoskeleton she’s wearing compares to the old one.
Little patchwork pieces of each other’s life that might not be a full picture but still make up a tapestry of a life that’s as messy as ever and with plenty of difficulties but which is overall a good life.
The man at the patisserie looks between them oddly. Nathalie’s major issue with him has always been that the man’s a gossip.
Maybe she’s just had too many brushes with that type over the years but even when it was useful to her she’s always hated people’s whispers as they attempt to put her life and that of those close to her under the microscope.
“Ah, a visitor,” he proclaims.
Nathalie has to restrain the urge to glare. There’s no benefit to deliberating alienating people. Not now anyway. Though she does miss the power Gabriel gave her to make that possible at times.
She’d say she doesn’t know why she’s thinking about him so much today but it’s natural she supposes with the first time she’s seeing Adrien in a while. No need to censure herself for that.
“All the way from Paris,” Adrien puts his gregarious charm to use, “and I need to by something for her birthday,”
Her hand hits her forehead, “just tell everyone.”
“It’s your birthday?” The baker asks, “you’ve kept that quiet. Will we see you,”
“I’ve plans.” She cuts him off.
“Oh. Well I won’t keep you, what can I do for you and your…” he cocks his head looking between them, “previously unmentioned son?”
Adrien fiddles with the glasses he only wears when he’s not being Mr Dupain-Cheng, devoted husband of the famous designer Marinette, for the public. Nathalie doesn’t envy him the bother of contacts the rest of the time but she gets it.
The press have other targets now decades later but Marinette’s career has meant thar despite quitting modelling and having his image scrubbed from as many places deals and ads and devices as he can, Adrien’s not been able to stay completely out of the public eye despite his desire to.
They all make sacrifices for those they love. It’s not the worst of them. She imagines they’ve discussed it. They’re big on discussion those two.
“Uh,” Adrien seems a little unsure how to answer that.
She decides to rescue him, “nothing so exciting. I was close to his parents when he was young.”
It’s not even exactly wrong.
Nathalie allows Adrien to take care of the rest of the transaction, but he’s clearly uncomfortable and fidgets as they walk back.
Eventually the nervous energy bursts out and he says, “I almost said yes.”
Nathalie looks away from the uneven path up to him, “What?”
“That I was your son. I almost said I was.”
“Oh Adrien.” Guilt curdles in her stomach, and she shivers in the cold air as if Gabriel and Emilie are watching her right now. Maybe if there’s an afterlife they are. Nathalie’s always been fuzzy on theology, mostly because it meant thinking about things she didn’t like to.
He scuffs his feet along the ground and she has to bite back the impulse to reprimand him.
“You could have said you raised me you know.”
“That would only have provoked more questions,” she’s much less remembered than Adrien is now thank god, thanks to having snuck under the radar back then but she doesn’t like to draw any attention to the fact she’s that Nathalie Sancoeur. The assistant who'd replaced Gabriel Agreste in public, and then as parent to his son.
Besides, Adrien and how and why and when she raised him are questions with complicated answers that happen to have a lot of illegality involved along the way.
“Could have said let them think was a foster thing, or just mentioned my mother’s death and not…”
Nathalie bumps his arm with her shoulder, “you don’t have to not mention him around me you know. I’m not that fragile.”
“There’s a picture of the three of us in your bedroom. I saw that the last time I was here.” Adrien says.
“I’m sorry,” she mentally curses, “I must have forgotten to put it away.”
The furrow between his brows deepens. He’s going to get a deep wrinkle there if he keeps this up, “you don’t have to be sorry. I know your relationship with him wasn’t the same as mine and I-,”
“You?”
“I go to his grave sometimes. I took Emma for the first time this year. She was asking about him.”
“Oh. Did you,” she’s not even sure how to finish the question. It feels wrong to talk about Gabriel and Hawk Moth here in the bright sunshine.”
“She knows he died before she was born. Not that death means much to her out of stories but….I told her a little more about him. Not about Hawk Moth but I didn’t…I admitted we weren’t close. I’ll tell her more as she gets older.”
She inhales through her nose like that’s going to magically settle her, “that’s probably sensible.”
“Do,” Adrien chews at his lip, “do you still love him?”
Nathalie comes to a stop. “What sort of question is that?”
“I. Just.”
Blood rushes through her ears that after of these years, after all that apparent trust she has to say, “I’m not going to betray you over some memory of him!”
“I didn’t think you would. God Nathalie, I didn’t mean that at all. I just wondered if…if that was why you never got married or even had a boyfriend. After. Why you didn’t have an actual son coming up to visit instead of…me and having to pretend.”
She pinches at the bridge of her nose, like it will ease her of this sudden headache. “I didn’t fake documents and bribe officials to get custody over you after your father’s death for you to question if I wanted to look after you.”
“I know but,”
“So stop wallowing in guilt. Go talk to that therapist of yours. And anyway, it’s not like I could have had a child in my condition so you haven’t done me out of anything.”
Adrien flinches. In shock, or because she's struck too close to home. Or both.
“Is that why you never dated?”
“Despite your attempts at setting me up as teenager?”
His hands raise in surrender. “I was trying to be helpful!”
“No one needs that sort of help.”
“I kind of did?”
“No. You were oblivious to it all. And then once you were ready internally you noticed her. Your friends’ efforts had nothing to do with it. And that’s not why. Though I guess it didn’t help.”
Thankfully this time Adrien lets them continue their walk in silence rather than pushing and yet Nathalie feels the need to add more anyway.
“It was never as simple as loving or not loving your father. I betrayed him because I thought that was the only way to save him. Instead I got him killed."
She’d watched him get worse, watched him get more desperate, then watched him get distracted at the cost of her life, Emilie’s and even his own with how wearing so many Miraculous had affected him.
The man she’d loved had been disappearing and she’d been unable to save him and had thought that maybe the people they couldn’t defeat could.
That having the chance of success taken away would force him to come back to reality before he was exposed or worse.
And then Nathalie had been instrumental in worse happening.
“His death wasn’t your fault.” Adrien’s eyes are soft just like Gabriel’s used to be when he looked at her and she could believe he cared for her.
“It wasn’t yours either.”
“I know.”
It’s terrible, the sliver of jealously she feels when he says that and sounds so certain, “I…”
“You?”
Wish I hadn’t distracted him in that final fight.
Wish he didn’t know I’d betrayed him in his last moments.
Wish I’d got him to stop when I was just Hawk Moth.
Wish I’d never led your parents to the Butterfly and the Peacock.
Wish Madame Tsurugi had never introduced me to them.
“I was grieving, and oscillating between blaming myself and blaming him,” she’d hated Gabriel a little in the end, that he couldn’t have chosen life over a dead woman, that he’d found Nathalie too insufficient to be satisfied by, “and I you to look after, and there was still so much to sort of between Gabriel Agreste’s and Monarch’s,” separate and for that and the cameras not capturing that final fight she’s eternally grateful, “deaths and what was left behind. I wasn’t in a state at all to consider a romantic relationship.”
“I kind of feel stupid that I thought you were. That you could have been.”
“You were a teenager.”
“True,” he follows is with a noise of agreement, “but after? There wasn’t anyone?”
She raises her eyebrows, “Well that’s a big assumption.”
Adrien’s eyes go wide and she snorts glad to have shocked him for once, “you said it yourself Adrien. You’re like a son to me. I wasn’t going to tell you the sordid details of my dating life.”
“But, you, what?”
“It was a long time before I felt ready to even consider it,” even though she didn’t exactly love him Gabriel would always have been a shadow over any romance, “but it’s a tough old world out there. Not that you’d know given that you somehow met your wife when you were thirteen.”
“I mean we weren’t together then but,”
“You still have no idea what dating as an adult is like. Especially when you’re old enough half the candidates are single because they’re divorced. Trust me. Not fun.” And that’s even without bringing up all the secrets she’d had to hide about her past, “But no, I never really clicked with anyone, and then as I got older the idea of being in a relationship started to feel almost repulsive.”
“Repulsive?”
“I’m set in my ways. The idea of having to change my routines, having to work around someone else’s schedule, having to, urgh, share a bathroom all awful. And besides I’ve got your millions to keep me looked after in my old age.”
“I mean. If you’re happy this way?”
Nathalie doesn’t even to consider it. “I am.”
She has regrets. Some of them she’ll probably have all her life for even if she’s made her peace with them. But that isn’t one of them.
Adrien lets out a fake sounding chuckle, “I really am ruining your birthday aren’t I? Hopefully your present will make up for it.”
“Maybe it’s all things that needed to be said,” she hesitates, “though your gift better not be a pen.”
It works, Adrien cracks a smile, “now that I do know better than to do.”