Despite everyone's best efforts, he hadn't made a bit of progress during the day. Wayzz had fretted, uncertain if he was pushing them both in a wrong direction. He was much more used to monks, and Nino, whilst calm, did not quite operate in that same way. Wayzz said that he would still be learning how best to help him.

But he was still taking it really hard. He felt like they were all counting on him, but he just couldn't make all of the bits and pieces work in his mind.

It was like listening to music by rote for years and then being told he had to compose formally – on sheet music – all without a proper handle on music theory or on how to read the music from the page. He had an innate sense for some of the pieces, but some of the others just wouldn't fit. He didn't have the knowledge to shape some of the others into a bridge.

And for all that Wayzz was present and full of information, the tiny Kwami was often reserved and quiet, still grieving his former master.

Dinner had been quiet and Alya was late again. Adrien had even gotten dinner elsewhere, popping in to the museum briefly to calm down the string of anxious e-mails he'd gotten from Jalil on a few of the minor details of the pending exhibit.

Zoe had trudged up to her room disheartened, ready to read one of the books they'd grabbed from the library, when they'd stopped in.

It was a longshot to hope that there might be something there, but Zoe had been insistent that they try.

By the time, he'd gotten cleaned up and flopped into bed for the night, Nino felt bone-weary, barely even taking the time to bury himself beneath the covers.

He'd been half asleep when Alya had dropped into bed beside him, yawning.

She cuddled up to him, winding her arm around his shoulder and pressing her lips to the back of his neck.

Nino exhaled, turning beneath her arm to face her. His vision was blurred without the glasses, but even this close he could see the concern burning in her eyes.

Alya bit the inside of her cheek. "No luck?"

"Not today." He sighed, deep brown eyes slipping closed. "Zoe was disappointed."

"You are, too." Her hand drifting onto his bicep, dragging her thumb over the corded muscle trying to soothe the tension that had built there.

Nino's silence spoke volumes. They talked about his worries. His concerns that he wouldn't be able to do enough. It all was as plain to her as if he had spoken the words aloud himself.

Alya shook her head, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her lips drifting close to his ear, and the words began to flow, merest whispers in the night.

She reminded him what he'd done, as she'd been there by his side. Setting up his studio and watching it grow. Having Zoe and being there at her side as they both watched her grow.

Her fingers traced the stubble at his jaw, as his warm hand came up to rest on her arm.

She reminded him how devastating it had been that they hadn't had much luck fertility-wise after Zoe. But how he'd stood by her side at every appointment. How he'd cried right beside her with every loss.

His eyes were locked on hers, and neither of them stayed dry.

She reminded him how their little girl grew to be amazing and bright, warm and caring. Not the least of which had come about because he had been an excellent, equal partner in being her father.

She reminded him how it wasn't worth his self-doubt. How things that were worth the effort sometimes took time.

Alya lifted herself back off the pillows, pressing a kiss from his hairline down to his lips. His fingers were buried in her hair, lightly tucking it back behind her ears as she ducked down, her forehead lingering just above his.

Even if he couldn't do a single thing more for Adrien, Marinette would come through with something to cheer him up. Marinette even mentioned a plan in homage to Chat Noir earlier today, one she came up with without any prodding.

So, even if his best efforts failed, things had to get better for both of their friends, soon.

Ardently, her lips pressed to his. Nino wasted not one moment, opening his mouth to her.

Alya could feel the moment that the pressure on him was off, as the tension fled from his shoulders and neck.

The curve of his smile, as he'd sucked her bottom lip, nipping it lightly before pressing a softer, soothing kiss in its wake.

Alya could feel and tension build in his arms in legs, fleeting notice before he'd flipped their positions. How his lips had curved as his hands grazed down to her shoulders, pushing the slim, cream silk straps off her shoulders, lips chasing the paths of fingers before descending lower still.

Nino's muscles ached where'd held position above Alya, but his mind buzzed pleasantly. He'd run to the bathroom afterwards, but headed down to the kitchen. He was far more dehydrated than he'd realized.

He got up and went down to the kitchen while Alya still lay boneless in bed. As tired as she was, she'd stayed up for him.

Wayzz was awake, staring up into the moonlight, over the rim of a mostly cooled cup of tea.

"Can't sleep?" Nino asked, lifting the glass to pour a pitcher of cool water.

Wayzz nodded. "You seem awfully relaxed."

Nino was sure he blushed a bit, tipping the glass of water back to stave off the effect. "A little sleep can do that."

"True." Wayzz murmured. "I suppose I am far more inclined to try my former Master's techniques. They were extremely effective for him. But perhaps another approach would be more effective for you."

"Like what?"

Tiny brows lifted. "I'd probably advise whatever you were just about. But just as a means to help you relax first. The Zen-like state is sometimes easier when the body is already nearing the sleep state."

Nino chuckled. "I suppose I couldn't argue with that sort of training regimen."

"Would you care to try again?"

Nino shrugged. "And if it doesn't work?"

"Then we make a fresh start of it again in the morning."

Wayzz curled up in the palm of his hand, as he controlled his breathing. The Kwami's reedy voice guiding Nino's mind forward through the mental exercise of unlocking a small, black box.

Nino blinked as Wayzz laughed aloud, breaking him out of the vaguely trance-like state what must have been just a few minutes later. "Go rest, young man. I think you've earned it."

Adrien's eyes opened in the dark to the feeling of being watched.

Gleaming green pierced through the dark of night. "Finally!"

"Plagg?" Adrien shot up in bed. "Is that really you?"

The Kwami cackled. "Who else would it be?"

Rubbing his eyes, he threw off the covers, noting the time as some absurd hour of the early morning. He reached up, snagging Plagg out of the air and into his arms. "It's been ages."

"Of course, it has, kid." Plagg groused, trying to wriggle free. But the darkness didn't entirely mask the curve of his lips. "That's why I'm starving."

Plagg ate the Camembert every bit as greedily as he ever had. Adrien had stashed it away in pure hope that Nino might be successful, but he didn't want to keep it at Nino's house. He hadn't wanted Nino to be feeling the additional pressure of his hopes, not while it was already very frustrating to him that he hadn't been able to help him transform back already.

Adrien wasn't sure how it had happened – or when – but he was endlessly grateful to see his Kwami again.

Plagg watched him curiously as he'd paced the room, not caring about the early hour. He'd fired off several text messages, but his cell phone notifications stayed blank. It wasn't really a surprise, but there was only one reporter he could think of who deserved to get this scoop.

He stared out the window, into the too-quiet streets. It had been years in the making, and he wasn't sure he could be patient for much longer.

This was his last, best hope to ever find her again.

The familiar ache settled into his muscles as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the cool, early fall air whisking through his hair. He was alert, weaving the way that he knew so well on foot and in the air.

Chat Noir stalked the rooftops again. It had taken fifteen years, but no one who had been alive at the time would fail to recognize the sight.

It was why he was happy that next to no one seemed to be out at three in the morning with him.

He tapped on the window, outside of their room.

Nino grumbled audibly, as he got out of bed. He pulled the blinds open. "Do you know what time it is?"

Chat Noir half bowed, as much as he could on the thin ledge. His grin gleaming in the early morning hours.

Nino gaped.

Chat winked. "You wouldn't happen to know a reporter I could chat with, would you?"

Blinking, Nino dropped the blinds, lights and sound following in his wake.

Chat Noir chuckled, moving up to the rooftop to stay out of sight.

It only took ten minutes to wake up the rest of the house, and get Alya's camera set up on their rooftop to snag an exclusive picture.

It probably hadn't hurt that Chat Noir was far too practiced at posing.

Another 30 minutes and one mini-interview later and Alya was satisfied with the article she'd been drafting just for this purpose, firing it off to her editor.

In less than an hour, the article was posted online, featuring an image of Chat Noir against the orange streaked pre-dawn sky.

Half a world away, sat a certain Parisian ex-pat who had already been up far too late for her own good, hunched over her sewing machine in the long-empty office.

As the phone vibrated with the notification, she gaped as she noted the title of Alya's article.

The Chat Returns.

Notes:

So, this marks the first time I am even dipping a toe into doing any more mature work. I am staying pretty tame in this main work, but I do currently have some ideas brewing for follow up or other in-universe oneshots.

If you have any requests (including expanding out any sections), please feel free to let me know. ;)