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Early October 2015.
Nathalie coughed slightly. The fits had been increasing for the last month and a half, and now some of them were accompanied by small blood droplets. She didn’t know what she was sick with, but she knew it was getting worse. And that she absolutely had to hide it.
Hide the coughing fits.
Conceal the bloodied tissues.
Erase the hardship of breathing, as if her throat was perpetually blocked.
She coughed again, finally spitting something in her tissue, beyond the blood drops. A small leaf, and a very tiny bud closed on itself. A shiver ran through her immediately. Well at least now she knew what she had. But… it didn’t reassure her.
This sickness… It’d be fatal, she knew it.
A vague smile illuminated her face. There, her dilemma was solved. She would’ve taken the forbidden Miraculous anyway, if necessary, but now she knew exactly why she’d do it. Better die from the Miraculous than from this. And mainly, the Miraculous would disguise. He had to ignore what was happening. At any cost.
Eyes closed, she took a deep breath.
Everything would be alright. If she could hide the sickness.
************
October 16th, 2015.
Nathalie was standing in the observatory, holding her position straight near Gabriel. Outside, it was chaos, she knew it. But here, everything was fine.
With a smile, she handed him her tablet so he could depose the akuma in it. Her throat was itching and she felt the need to cough rising, but she definitely could not show her sickness. Not when he was smiling at her with so much trust, not when he was taking her hand and looking right in her eyes, not when the moment was so unique. Everything would be fine.
A purple mist surrounded her and, one brief moment later, she was wearing a black helmet with a red visor, and a matching suit, and she was feeling strong.
A slight smile on her face, eyes riveted in those of her partner, she grabbed his cane and declared in her most assured tone:
“Hawkmoth, I give you the power to release as many akumas as you desire. From now on, you are the almighty Scarlet Moth.”
A red flash illuminated Gabriel’s body from bottom to top, and a conquérant smile lightened his face as he enchanted the butterflies flying around them, dying them red. She had stepped back to avoid taking a misplaced hit from the cane, and so her difficulty to breathe would not be visible. She was forbidding herself to cough, she could not spoil it all, she could not stop the plan rolling, Ladybug and Chat Noir would be defeated and tonight, everything would be back in order.
But suddenly, the entire universe darkened, her vision reduced to a vague light tunnel in the center, she felt her legs shaking but she was forcing herself to stay up, forcing herself to try to breathe deeply despite her obstructed trachea.
Not worry him.
Not waste everything.
It would pass.
Despite the dark, the silence, the oppressing hollow in her head, it would pass, she had to convince herself of it, she had to…
“Nathalie!”
A purple flash illuminated the room as he ran towards her. He caught her in her arms right before she touched the ground, visibly unconscious.
Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to decide what to do, trying to contain fear. He could still feel the city’s disarray burning on his chest, calling him to profit from the chaos, but…
He could not let Nathalie like that.
Never mind the plan. They’d find another idea.
He took her in his arms, softly, trying to chase the deja-vu feeling, the feeling that he’d seen this film before and he knew he didn’t like the ending.
He went back up to the living room, sat her in a chair and started pacing back and forth, nervous. He had already checked, she was breathing, though weakly, as if…
Of course!
In two steps he had crossed the room back to her, he took Nathalie’s body, begging her in a whisper to hold on, stay here with him as he was resting her head against the wall, putting his hands on his partner’s abdomen, pressing upwards, regularly. He was counting the pressures, five fast, a break, five again, as in manuals, terrified that she wasn’t reacting.
After the tenth pressure, she started to cough, violently, and ejected something. Gabriel immediately stepped back and picked up what fell to the ground. Roses petals, and a bud almost hatched, more of a little flower than a bud. Things rather strange to cough…
“Nathalie, do you eat flowers?”
“Let’s say it like that,” she answered with a smile, forcing to seem relaxed.
“Nathalie…”
“Don’t worry about me, sir. I’m fine.”
“You…”
“Sir. Everything is fine. And if we go back to work now, we might still be able to take advantage of the chaos created by Volpina.”
“No. Another day. You need to rest.”
“Sir… Your worry will not help. I promise.”
“Nathalie… I can’t…. You’re my only friend, my ally and… Please, take care of yourself.”
“I’ll try…”
A shadow passed in Gabriel’s eyes, a shadow of fear. He already could not bear Emilie’s absence, eating him alive, and now, Nathalie was getting sick too, and that was as if he was calling her name and she was not around, he would’ve begged her not to give up, but that couldn’t work with her.
He half-heartedly said goodbye and went to lock himself in his room, squeezing the small flower in between his fingers. Whatever Nathalie had done to get this in her trachea… it was not good. And the petals were even stained with blood…
This was bad news.
************
Six weeks later, evening of November 24th, 2015.
Nathalie coughed, spit up petals, thorns and three little flowers. Her condition was not getting better. She knew it wouldn’t get better.
Because every one of Gabriel’s glance was reinforcing the fire in her heart. Yes, he was still a terrorist, he stayed unstable, he continued to attack their city, he continued to destroy everything to get his wife back but… He worried about her. When she collapsed in a coughing fit, he came to help her. He smiled at her. He begged her to be careful. He stopped the attacks if she wasn’t feeling good.
She hoped she could win him, despite the fire in her heart, the ice in her mind, despite the plants chasing the air from her lungs.
But if the walls could talk, they’d probably say “enough, give up”, even if she wasn’t listening. She wanted to believe in it, even if it killed her.
So she was standing in the observatory when he attacked, she stayed by his side when he lost, she suggested new plans, she tried to compensate for her fatal weakness at the worst moment.
“Keuf, erf, keuf, argh, erf…”
A blood trail reddened her hands as a true flower was falling in her hands, accompanied by a rain of thorns and leaves. Her legs were shaking as in the middle of the worst crisis, so she just let herself fall.
Eyes blurred, she contemplated the rose one instant, and raised her head towards the moon shining through the window. If she was at this point… ok, the flower only had an outline of a stem, but there was no doubt on its total bloom. Gabriel’s begging look, the pain, his distraught asks… Everything came back to her mind and she could not help but cry, let tears break her dikes. She did not want to die, but mainly, she could not abandon him, she could not force him to live this again, and…
A new fit, a new flower, smaller but bloodier.
Tears were drowning her, she barely heard the elevator arriving, she did not feel her breath anymore. She did not want to feel it anymore, but she did not want to die, not now.
New blood on her hands, as if she had committed a crime. But was it a crime to love unrequitedly?
“Nathalie, Nathalie… Nathalie, do you hear me?”
“Ye… yes…”
“Nathalie…”
“Stop worrying about me,” she asked with an atrociously hoarse voice. “I told you it only makes things worse.”
“Do you… Do you at least know if that sickness… Does it have a name? And… Is there any solution?”
“He… erf… Hana… keuf… Hanahaki. There is no… It’s incurable. You didn’t do any research?”
“I… I didn’t want to… I thought you wouldn’t want that…”
“Stop. Stop caring about what I might think. Stop caring about me. I beg you.”
“I…”
She looked away. She did not want to hear what he had to say.
He was her cause of death, as if she had a knife in her back from his hands, and by talking to him, staying with him, she dug her own grave, his reassurance was emotional torture.
Eyes closed to focus on the effort, she stood back up, directed herself towards the platform and disappeared from the room, leaving a startled Gabriel, worried, trying to calm down the erratic pulsations of his heart, to not run after her. She did not want his worry, it was clear, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it either. Usually, when he didn’t know what to do with an emotion, he ran away in others’.
But there had already been an attack today.
And even if he didn’t want to feel worried, he wanted to care for her.
If anyone could save him, it was her, cause he was losing himself in the infinite bargain of denial and confinement against the illusory hope and arbitrary violence. He knew it wasn’t sustainable.
“Nooroo? Do you know what Hanahaki is?”
“Yes,” answered the kwami, “but you’re not going to like that...”
“Please.”
“The Hanahaki is a sickness due to unrequited love… The sick person starts spitting pieces of roses, petals, thorns, buds, then flowers. This is due to the development of a rose tree in the lungs. The stronger the feelings are, the worse the sickness gets. There… There is a solution, it’s possible to remove the tree through surgery but… This kills definitely any feeling for the person.”
“Nooroo. It’s necessary that… If… If she had to die, I’d die. I… She doesn’t seem to want to do it but… Why?”
“When one loves, the idea of not feeling anything at all anymore may be difficult to accept. She’s attached.”
“I… And there really isn’t any other solution?”
“The sickness can heal if the feelings become reciprocated.”
“Oh…”
“Master, when she tells you not to worry about her, she’s trying to protect herself. The stronger the feelings are… the more present the sickness is.”
“I… Nooroo… I can’t keep myself from worrying. I… I’d like to be able to protect her, to help her, I can’t lose her…”
“Well… Don’t show her?”
“I don’t want to lie to her.”
“It’s to help her. Since you can’t heal her.”
“I…”
Gabriel looked away. No, he didn’t think he was able to heal her. His heart was still pierced and torn by a grief he couldn’t walk through. But tears were running down his face as he was realizing that losing Nathalie would be even worse. A voice in his head was whispering it was because if she disappeared, he would definitely not have anyone anymore, but another whisper was shaking him, begging him to think about it.
Except that he had never known how to think about his feelings, nor even really perceive them. He buried everything, always, it had been easier, and he needed months of attention to dig up everything that had been hidden in the hope it might disappear.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have months. Far from it, even. The flower in his hands was too big to leave the smallest doubt. It may have been months already since she fell sick, without him seeing, and… he couldn’t do anything. Worry would not help. And he could not force himself to reciprocate feelings.
If he showed…
He didn’t want to put her in danger but everything, everything would worsen the situation. And so spite tears rolled without restraint.
************
Ten days later, December tenth.
Gabriel was standing at the top of the stairs, lips tightened. He hadn’t stopped looking for a solution, and he had found one. Maybe. If…
Nathalie exited her room, looking tired, dark circles under her eyes. She seemed so fragile, so hurt. He felt bad already. But… he knew what he had to do. Turn her away. Hide his worry from her.
“Nathalie? I think it’d be preferable that you’d stop working here.”
“Are you… are you firing me?”
“No. But I think you should go away.”
“Sir… No, please…”
“Don’t protest, Nathalie. My decision is taken.”
“But… O… Okay. I take my stuff and I leave. I imagine that you would also like it if I stopped living at the manor.”
“If you can.”
“I kept my old apartment, yes.”
Gabriel forced himself not to stare at her as she was going back into her room. The chock on her face was painful. She… It was for the best.
In her bedroom, Nathalie took a luggage from under the bed and started to pile her stuffs, hardly containing the tears, feeling her throat closing up painfully, she did not want to pay attention to it. When the luggage was done, she opened the window, breathing a last time the place’s smell,
She could feel her heart breaking inside her chest, the tops of the thorns tearing her lungs apart. With a sigh she sat back on her bed, helpless, waiting for the coughing fit. And when it came, it was bloody, long, painful. Petals and thorns were flying everywhere. Three buttons already largely opened, a fully bloomed flower with a small stem, but she was still coughing in her hands redder than ever. She was going to die, now, she was sure of it, the cough wasn’t stopping, she barely breathed, the world was blurring in front of her eyes, and she was coughing, coughing to tear her throat away, tears of panic streaming down her face, she didn’t want to she didn’t want to die, it was horrible, this feeling… It was killing her, he was killing her, and she was unable to tell where this sudden coldness of Gabriel had came, but maybe that was for the best, cause if she had known, she would’ve begged, so he got to be a coward refusing to see her agonize, and she got to salvage a little self-respect.
A full rose finally landed in her hands red of the blood staining them, a flower tainted of orangey and pink, a shining dawn. Gorgeous, but so cruel. The long stem was full of thorns, on which the brown-haired ran her fingers, cautiously, avoiding to get cut. A sigh escaped her lips. Such a flower could have killed her, and she was weaker than ever. But she could not stay. She knew from the start this slope was treacherous, this path was reckless, and she’d have been smart to walk away…
She shook her head, put her tablet in the front pocket of the luggage, looking at all the books she had to leave behind. With a bit of luck, she would be able to come pick them up later. Heavy-hearted, she picked her old keychain in the drawer of the bedside table, and caressed the iris decorating it, hesitating to remove it. Cause she was starting to lose hope.
************
Three weeks later, evening of the first of January 2016.
Gabriel was collapsed, barely standing in the observatory, trying to forget. For the last three weeks, he had been feeling himself falling apart slowly. The day of Nathalie’s departure, he had been so eager to not confront the feelings tornado that he attacked three times in the day, around lunch time, then at six pm and once in the middle of the night. After this, he had only attacked five times in total. He was trying to convince himself it was for the best, that she had to not see him, that he had to not show his worry, that she had to never know, that if she kept in mind the cold and distant appearance he took when he dismissed her, it was better.
But her smiles, her kindness, her encouragements, their chess games, their discussions stayed in his head, he missed everything, and whatever he tried, she was in everything he did.
With the tip of his fingers, he dialed Eloïza Verstilde, the responsible of practical aspects at the company, seconding Nathalie in the handling of the corporation. These two did most of the work actually, and he was infinitely grateful for this, as it allowed him to just create, or do whatever he desired.
After a few rings, she answered.
“Mister Agreste? What is happening? You’re not one to call me, especially this late.”
“I… I was just wondering if you had news from Nathalie…”
“Oh? Uh, yes. She came back working at the company siege a little more than two weeks ago, she seemed very sick, but it’s getting better. She even went to the office today. Did… did something happen?”
“No. Well… Yes. It’s… She… She fell in love with me,” he sighed, “and I… I knew I was unable to love her back, so… I asked her to leave the office.”
“Oh? You seemed to appreciate her th… Oh lord. Don’t tell me she caught Hanahaki??”
“Yes… I…”
“Bloody hell… Mister Agreste… please, don’t guilt yourself. Don’t blame yourself. Nobody is responsible for feelings others develop. Okay? Especially not something like love. Is that noted?”
“Thanks… But… It's stupid, but I miss her. But I… If she’s better now… It means pushing her away was the thing to do…”
“Sir. Don’t hurt yourself with that kind of thought.”
“I’m not, Mrs Vertilstede. Thanks for your answer. Have a good evening.”
“Ye… Yes, of course.”
Gabriel hung up with a sigh. At least Nathalie was safe. Surprisingly it didn’t lift the weight on his heart, but he was smiling. She was fine. She was healing. Pushing her at a distance, refusing to see her and to talk to her has worked. He had to continue, even if she was present in every thought.
A coughing fit shook him violently, suddenly, cutting his thoughts. Oh well, he had caught a cold. He made spin in between his fingers the rose she left him, that had almost cost her her life when he had driven her out. Miraculously it hadn’t withered. It was his last memory of her, and he couldn’t get rid of it.
A smile was haunting his lips, like every time he lost himself in thoughts of her. And knowing, finding out about her recovery…
“Nooroo? Can Hanahaki… disappear?”
“It happens extremely rarely but… sometimes, feelings disappear and… the rosebush dies…”
“Ok.”
“Master?”
“Everything is alright.”
The stylist closed his eyes, and went back down. In his mind, pictures danced, skirts, colors, dresses, and her smile, so encouraging.
I’ll never forget you, Nathalie, but stay away, it’s for your own good.
************
Two weeks later, morning of January 14.
Gabriel leaned on his work table, trying to keep in the coughing fit burning his throat. Yes, he was sick, and impressively so. In two weeks, the sickness had considerably worsened, making him spit almost fully formed flowers. As if he’d keep himself from falling till she’d be out of reach, and all his buried feelings rebounded in a vibrant bouquet of irised bloodied flowers.
He hid it best as he could to Adrien, he drew most of the time, dozens of outfits, variations for Nathalie, all the Miraculous described in the grimoire, the seasons, flowers — roses, irises, anemones, asphodels —, skies under all weathers, he drew but he was unable of sewing, of acting, because if he realized the clothes… he could never give them to her, anyway. He’d die before.
He didn’t attack anymore, either. Hawkmoth had been completely silent for two weeks. He didn’t have enough strength, and he didn’t want. It didn’t have any meaning. Get the Miraculous, sure, but to wish what? Emilie wasn’t in his desires anymore, finally, and Nathalie… she had loved him, he had almost killed her, he couldn’t force her. He couldn’t wish for something like that.
A bloody flower fell into his hands, almost without a cough. They came alone now, apparently. There wasn’t anything left for him. His time… his time had flown. He knew it. And somehow, his creator soul woke up at this realization.
He could not abandon the world without a last piece, as a testimony of all the happiness in his history, despite everything.
He grabbed some fabric, intuitively, an orange silk, a pink satin, some red lace, retracing the vision of the rose she left him, inverted, a skirt opening at the bottom, a gradient going from red to orange, through tender pink and deep pink, stains like blood, a green decoration on the neckline, like a stem, the layers of fabrics progressively separating as rose petals, overlapping without touching.
The picture took life under his fingers, finally, the softness of fabric wrinkling caressed his palms, it had been so long. He felt himself living again, despite the pain tearing his lungs apart, despite the pain crushing his heart, despite the ghost of an absent smile destroying his spirit. Creation had always been his escape, he had replaced it and lost it through time, but finding it again…
Not think it was surely the last time.
Only contemplate. Imagine his love dancing in the dress he could never bring to her.
Not see the time passing in the dance of needles, forget the flowers ornamenting the floor with his blood, simply live again in the feeling of creation.
As if another universe was there, in-between his hands, and he was seeing the sun shimmer on the clothe, despite the room being lighted artificially only, for the stability of electricity.
Weave, and weave still, a dress finished, another birthed, color of night, blue, black, silver, lightening the wrists with a grey-light lace, a plan danced in the designer’s mind, he was finally chasing the shadow of death.
“Father? Is everything alright? You didn’t come out all day… and it’s late.”
“Really? I didn’t see time passing. What time is it?”
“Half past eight, father.”
“Thanks, Adrien. I… I was sewing,” smiled the stylist, opening the door, “I’m fine.”
“You are…,” started the teenager, before his eyes fell on the ground.
“Are those… Are those roses? Father?????”
“It’ll be fine, Adrien…”
“No, clearly not! Father, you got Hanahaki!!!”
“Yes.”
“And you…”
“It’s simply a just redistribution of pain.”
“What… What do you mean?”
“Nathalie had it, and… I almost killed her wanting to protect her. But I did good, since her feelings ended up disappearing. I hadn’t planned that her absence would hurt me so much, however, and… Well.”
“Father. You can’t… I refuse that you hurt yourself just…”
“Adrien. I don’t want to put her through harm’s way again.”
“But since she doesn’t… If she doesn’t love you, she isn’t risking anything. And even if she’d still love you, or came to love you again, you love her, don’t you? So there’s no danger.”
“I…”
“Father. I can’t lose you. So please, don’t let yourself die. Do that for me. Call her. Ask her to come back. Or, if really you don’t want to see her, go to the hospital and heal.”
“No.”
“Please…”
“Adrien. I can not…”
“Why?”
“Love is the most absurd feeling there is, and even when it kills, the idea of not feeling anything is horrible. Especially when it kills.”
“Father…”
“Everything will be fine, Adrien. Don’t worry. And whatever you do… do not worry her. It’d be worse.”
“If… If you say so.”
************
One week later, January 23rd 2016.
Adrien was looking at his mother’s statue, tears in his eyes. The manor’s atmosphere was heavy. Knowing his father sick and being unable to help ruined the teen’s morale, and he couldn’t escape either. Even if he didn’t wish to see Hawkmoth again, not having the liberty and distraction of Chat Noir was tormenting him. And he missed Ladybug, too. Since discovering his father’s sickness, he called Nathalie everyday, he hadn’t tell her, but he had explained he felt alone, that they were both missing her, that it was weird without her…
Suddenly he heard the gate open, and he sneaked back in the hallway by the back door, to listen to the discussion. He knew his father was at the top of the stairs, and he heard the heels stop in the middle of the room.
A long moment of silence passed before the designer decided to talk.
“Nathalie…?”
“Yes. Are you alright, Sir?”
“Yes, thank you. Sorry it’s been a while, I didn’t mean to stare.”
“It’s nothing.”
“And you, how are you?”
“Good, thanks.”
“Why… why did you come back?”
“Adrien told me he was missing me. And I was missing the manor. And you, of course, I missed you.”
“I… really?”
“Yes.”
“I…” he coughed dryly, struggling to get his breath before continuing. “I’m happy to see you again, Nathalie.”
“Sir? Are you sick?”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”
“You…”
“Please.”
“Okaaaay.”
Nathalie bit her lips to not protest further. She had an unsettling feeling of déjà-vu, like she’d already heard that dialogue, but she didn’t know where, she didn’t really want to search her memory for it, so she climbed the stairs to go back to her room, hoping she could reinstall herself, and when she passed her boss, she asked the question, he answered yes, if course, she could stay.
And, watching her opening her door, he felt his heart tighten. Finally she was here. But in his head, a pleas tornado was repeating itself, please, don’t you smile at me and ask me how I’ve been, don’t you say you’ve missed me if you don’t want me again…
He shook his head. Walked back to the office. Seeing her again was enough for him, even when her worry would be deadly.
Under the stairs, Adrien was smiling. He had felt in their voice the possibility to have a happy end, if they had a little time. After all, Nathalie was worried, and in her voice, he had heard the fear of loss, the hesitation to exist. Even if her feelings had been dimmed, put to sleep by the coldness and forced distance of the stylist, the teenager was certain that everything was not hopeless.
They just needed a little time.
************
Three weeks later, February 14th, living-room.
Gabriel coughed violently in his hands, wincing at the blood drops on his palms. Since Nathalie’s return, the Hanahaki had slowed, but he stayed sick. He knew he probably couldn’t win her, but living with her presence, seeing her roll her eyes at his stupid remarks, getting her focused pout and excited clapping during their chess games back, it was enough for him. He also saw her worry for him, her swiftness to come help him when he’d collapse in a coughing fit, her joy when he showed his gratitude. He loved to listen her talk of everything and nothing, the books she read, the problems she faced with the administrative of the company, the drawings she made, her strolls through the city, he loved to sit next to her, contemplate her, see her live. And he knew she appreciated his attention, his thanks, and her gratitude resonated eternally in his ears, feeding the fire.
A new coughing fit shook him, bolting a scarlet rose. He made it turn through his fingers, observing it. He kept his flowers, always, without really knowing why, but he had noticed that, the last few days, they’d been shrinking, there were more simple petals in his coughs. He knew his love wasn’t fading, but the other hypothesis was way too unbelievable in his eyes.
“Gabriel? Are you ok?” worried Nathalie, seeing him sat on one of the seats, staring into the void and with reddened hands.
“I make do… It’s better since you came home, Nathalie, really.”
“Gabriel. You’re sick, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And I don’t want to be healed anymore than you did.”
“Par… Pardon?”
“We have the worse timing in the universe, but it’s nothing. I can see you and be with you, and that’s enough.”
“Gabriel! Don’t… Don’t say things like that. Don’t… There has to be… I won’t let you die, Gabriel.”
“And you could force the feelings I destroyed to resurrect?”
“Maybe. You’re not… You forced yourself to be cold, distant and cruel so I would put out my love. But you are not like that, you are optimistic, creative, caring, determined. Grateful. Attentive. You want the happiness of the ones around you. Please, let’s try something. Tell me what you wish we would do? With all the poetry you can.”
“I… I wish to travel, go to the places poets escape and die, I don’t belong and… I think you don’t either. I wish to set off, but not without my inspiration, my muse, no, not without you, I love you and… I live by you, even if it shall kill me
Sparks flew in Nathalie’s eyes. She stayed stunned, touched deep. Yes. It was for him she had gotten ill, she remembered now, for his unbelievable sentences, for his unshakable determination, for the way he didn’t know how to act, and she came kneeling near the armchair he was sitting in, she took his hands and looked up to him, like in her dreams, realizing she’d been the archer and she’d been the prey in their run from life, in their history of destruction, but now the keys were in her hands, finally, she smiled, feeling her heart starting to beat again, anew.
“Gabriel. I love you, and I never truly stopped to love you, my feelings simply muted themselves when I believe I was only loving an illusion, but you are here, and with you I’ll go to the end of the world, because I know, even in my worst times, you’d stay with me, and I’ll stay next to you forever, even if I leave, I’ll come back, I know because I could not stop finding you again in my head, and I know this love is worth the fight. I love you, Gabriel.”
She saw the incredulity and joy in his shining eyes as he stood back up, pulled her in his arms, reuniting their hearts on the same rhythm in a healing embrace.
They had nearly died from loving, but together, they were more alive than ever.