The first time Nathalie awoke was brief and indistinct. She had no concrete memories of it, just the sensation of weakness and pain, the clamor of noise and (maybe?) voices around her, and alternating light and dark. It had seemed like she was moving without moving, which hurt her head. She was fairly confident it hadn't lasted long.

The second time was longer and she retained more, but it made little more sense. She recognized at least that she was in a bed. Beeping noises were around her, though they were drowned out by agitated voices. The words didn't stick in her mind, but she did at least grasp that several people were talking. Her eyes swam and she could make out little. The lights were more stable this time, and she didn't think she was moving much. She remembered the last voice, though the words had eluded her: Gabriel Agreste. She had tried to look at him, and to reach for him, but that was as far as her memory went. She had to believe her body had failed her then.

The third time she awoke she was able to remember speech. She recognized a voice asking her if she knew her own name (yes), and if she knew what day it was (no), and how she was feeling (?). She wasn't sure if she'd been able to answer the questions; she certainly didn't remember what her answers had been. On the other hand, she'd been able to grasp where she was. She was in a bed, and there was a tube going into her arm, and a suspended bag next to her, and curtains surrounding her from what were undoubtedly other beds and setups around. A periodic beeping noise was coming from nearby the bag, just outside her line of sight. (Turning her head had been too difficult.) Pressure from what must have been a mask made her face ache.

From all those clues, she'd determined she was in a hospital.

She hadn't had the wherewithal at that moment to wonder why she was in a hospital. She'd felt so tired and disoriented that higher-level brain functions never engaged. She remembered asking where Gabriel was. She didn't recall the answer.

The fourth time she awoke was because she was thirsty. She thought she got some help with that. It was difficult to tell.

The fifth time she awoke was the first she returned to coherence.

She established, quickly by recent standards, that she was not exactly in a hospital. Her room had bright natural lighting; the window was open; she could hear a distant crashing sound that might have been waves. She almost believed it was a vacation home.

If it wasn't a hospital, it was at least serving as one for her. She heard the repetitive beeping noise nearby, and could feel the pressure in her arm where—her eyes, obeying her for once, confirmed—an intravenous line penetrated. She could move just enough to verify she had control.

She tried to take a deep breath to smell, but it seemed to strain her lungs. To her surprise she didn't erupt in coughs. She did decide not to try that again. Even so, she could detect salt on the air.

Laboriously, her mind lurched into motion. She closed her eyes to think. Where was she, what was she doing here, and where was Gabriel? Those, she decided, were the most important questions.

She was at a seaside villa, as near as she could tell, one that was used for medical care.

She was here because her body had given out on her. It didn't seem to have recovered; every part of her felt leaden and unresponsive, although she was able to make her toes wriggle to her satisfaction.

She didn't know where Gabriel was.

She strained through her memories. She could have sworn he'd been around at… some point?

It made her hurt, so she stopped. Instead she opened her eyes again and tried to reorient.

Her torso, she saw, was at a slight upwards angle, which helped her look around; she didn't think she could have raised her head much if she were lying flat. The room was furnished with comfortable-looking chairs. Above her were tracks in the ceiling which would support curtains, to close her off if she needed them. All the colors were pale and gentle, almost sun-bleached. Without her glasses she couldn't see much further than that.

To her right was an array of medical equipment, including a vital signs monitor and the rack for her IV line. It didn't look like she was getting anything through the line at the moment. She chose to interpret that as a good sign.

To her left was a tray, on which sat an empty cup, a jug of water, and a folded piece of paper that might have been a letter.

It sure seemed like a place that could support her long-term. How long had she been here already? Disorientation, a sensation that had been lurking the whole time, roared to the forefront of her mind. It was impossible to tell because she didn't know when it was. She felt like she'd woken up from an egregiously long nap, one that had started when…

She tried to remember back to what she was doing before the sleeping started. Gabriel was involved, she knew, but the harder she tried to think about it the more her head hurt. She stopped trying.

There didn't seem to be anyone in the room with her, so the only source of information she might have would be her phone—oh, ha ha, as if she still had that. By touch she identified that she was wearing a hospital gown, albeit the softest and most comfortable hospital gown she'd ever experienced. Okay, what else might help her out?

She looked back at the paper on the tray. It had been left where she could reach it, so clearly no one was concerned with her seeing it. In that case…

She realized she'd forgotten how to use her hand.

How long had she been asleep?

It took her several minutes to convince the muscles in her arm to cooperate. Even then it took enormous effort. Her grasp for the paper was clumsy, but it succeeded. Now that she was able to look at it better, she saw that someone had placed tape to hold it shut. This would have been a symbolic obstacle to a healthy person; it was a genuine barrier to her. She fumbled with it, trying to tease it apart, grateful all the while that Gabriel wasn't there to see her botching such a trivial task.

Eventually there was a tearing sound, and the tape came free (along with some of the paper). Nathalie celebrated by relaxing, letting her body go slack. Everything had taken a surprising amount of effort; despite having just woken up, Nathalie felt like she could go back to sleep any moment, and the prospect appealed.

Still, she'd gone to all the trouble to open this letter, she might as well read the damn thing. After sitting idle for another few seconds, she dragged the paper up her body and tried to focus. She saw immediately that it was a hand-written letter; with a jolt, she recognized Gabriel's scrawl.

Nathalie,

You are at an exclusive medical hospice on the Mediterranean coast. It specializes in recuperation and physical therapy for the rich of France. It is possible you will be here for some time. Your circumstances are unusual, so the doctors have struggled to give a timeline for your recovery. You have been steadily improving, which gives them hope; nevertheless, I wanted to ensure you would be somewhere suitable for a long stay, despite the exorbitant cost.

I will be blunt: it was unclear, for quite some time, whether or not you would survive your idiocy.

The doctors determined that you were suffering from long-term nutritional and sleep deficits which, combined with stress, weakened your immune system. Though they didn't know it, I confirmed that these compounded with your use of the Peacock Miraculous, which was already eroding your health. This left you susceptible to infections of the lungs, and it was these that nearly killed you.

It was very foolish of you to push yourself so hard. In your zeal to serve me—which I do not discourage—you made yourself a liability. A dead assistant does me no good.

I am, therefore, taking steps to ensure that you make a full recovery. I am placing you on administrative leave until the hospice discharges you. I am reducing my involvement in the Agreste brand to allow me to personally oversee your rehabilitation. In addition, to ensure you are not tempted to jeopardize your health again, I have returned the Moth and Peacock Miraculouses—

Nathalie squeezed her eyes tightly shut and reopened them. The words were still there. She re-read them several times to be absolutely sure.

-have returned the Moth and Peacock Miraculouses to the Guardian of the Miraculous. Out of sight, out of mind.

Your dedication is a credit to the Agreste brand, and you have served me well. It would be negligent to permit that very dedication to kill you. I will not allow that kind of carelessness in my staff.

We will discuss this more when you awake.

-Gabriel Agreste-

Only her weakness kept Nathalie from gaping at that extraordinary letter. Even as her hands rested and her eyes came shut, she was preoccupied re-reading it in her mind.

In its tone—from the cold, distant language to the it's-a-you-problem guilt trips—it was pure Gabriel. In its content, in what the letter said Gabriel was actually doing, it was impossible.

He returned the Miraculouses?

No. No way was that true. Couldn't be.

Could it?

Her head hurt again. She wanted to stop thinking about it. She didn't think she could.

One thing was for certain: Gabriel was being as impersonal as ever. She didn't believe for a second that he'd let his brand totter on without him. Administrative leave was non-paying and didn't keep him from hiring another personal assistant. As for his pledge to "personally oversee" her rehab? His idea of "personally overseeing" his son had been two dinners over a span of two weeks and ordering the staff to conduct more surveillance.

It was time for her to start getting used to the idea of being alone a lot—

A snort drew her attention. It was in the corner of the room to her left, beyond where she'd been able to look so far; the railing of her bed was in the way. Maybe, if she threw her head a bit…

Gabriel.

She gasped. He was sitting in a chair in the corner with a blanket over most of him and his chin on his chest. He was asleep. How long had he been there?

Hours, it had to be. He'd fallen asleep there. He was sporting a shadow of facial hair. It didn't look comfortable at all.

But if he was here, why write the letter?

Her mind, though still sluggish, was able to answer that question: he didn't know when she was going to wake up. He wanted to ensure that she understood as soon as she awoke, even if he was asleep.

She reeled at the notion. The distance Gabriel had always maintained between them, and which she had so willingly honored, had vanished in a moment. She was no longer incidental or convenient, part of the machinery of his life; he was investing his own time in her.

No one did obsession like Gabriel Agreste.

To feel that… was staggering.

It was more than she could deal with in her state. She closed her eyes, and immediately recognized that they wouldn't be opening again any time soon.

The last time she'd slept, her world had radically changed when she woke up. She wondered, before sleep claimed her, what the world would be like the sixth time she awoke.

"Wait a minute."

"Hm?" said Marinette, turning to look down the stairs at Adrien.

"Isn't it…" he coughed. "I've heard it's traditional to carry the bride over the threshold."

"We're not married yet," Marinette pointed out.

"But we will be soon," Adrien said, "and we'll have been living here a bit before the wedding, won't we? We won't get another first time."

"True." She smiled. "You can be such a romantic at times. I like it. Okay, let's do it, but wait until I get the door open first."

"Fine by me," said Adrien. He was just fine with being behind and below Marinette on the stairs, thinking not-exactly-romantic thoughts. She had such a nice ass.

Perhaps feeling his eyes, Marinette wiggled more than strictly necessary as she worked the key and threw open the door. Finally she dropped her backpack off her shoulders. "Alright, come get me."

"With pleasure, milady," he said gallantly. He stepped up and swept her off her feet; she squealed at the motion.

"Don't you dare drop me," she said breathlessly, eying the stairs.

"Over my dead body," he replied. "Seriously, if I drop you, you're falling on me while I'm falling down the stairs, and I'll just die."

"My hero."

The fitness of a hero served him well as he stepped into the apartment, Marinette still wrapped up in his arms. "Welcome home," he said.

"I like the sound of that."

He set her down as the two of them let their eyes wander. It was everything Gerard Maison and his photos had promised. The kitchen was partially enclosed, and opened into a combined dining-living space. A short hall featured the doorways to the two bedrooms and bathroom. They could see the furnishings that had been promised: couch, refrigerator, window air units, all of them modern-looking. The walls and couch were a light beige, while the kitchen was a mix of that and a darker wood. The kitchen was tiled, the living area was wood, while carpet began in the hall.

"It's real," said Marinette.

"Yeah," breathed Adrien.

"And…" she swallowed. "And it's ours."

"Ours," Adrien agreed, savoring the word.

"It's perfect."

"Well," said Adrien, and he glanced around, as if searching for something objectionable, "we're going to have to buy a lot of furniture."

"Not as much as you think. We've got a baby shower coming up. My mom's putting it together, and it's her baby shower too. She's going totally overboard with it."

"It's not overboard if we're starting from zero," Adrien riposted.

"True," she granted.

"What about grown-up furniture?" he persisted.

"We can afford some. I just got a message that my whole portfolio sold. We've got money coming."

"How much?"

She smirked. "Let's just say… ooh-la-la."

"Have I mentioned lately how awesome you are?" Adrien looked about some more, as if determined to find a flaw in the apartment. "Too bad this place's colors are a little bland."

"That's part of what makes it perfect," Marinette said. "It's neutral right now, which means we can take it in whatever direction we want. It's like a blank canvas."

"A clean slate."

"A naked model."

"A… wait, what?"

Marinette laughed. "Don't worry," she purred. "You're my only naked model."

He smiled ruefully. "You are sharp as a tack, Bugaboo."

"'Bugaboo'? I'm in semi-retirement, you know."

"And at such an early age," he replied.

"You are, too," she pointed out.

Adrien nodded. "Our schoolmates could barely talk about anything else today. With exams done, what else would we talk about? Alya ran our letter as soon as she could. 'Superheroes declare victory: Hawk Moth surrenders, Ladybug and Cat Noir to withdraw from public life.' "

"You have no idea how hard it was to act surprised when she shoved it in front of me today," Marinette said with a sigh. "I couldn't defend us too much, it would've looked suspicious, and Alya needed some sympathy."

"She's taking it hard, then?" said Adrien as he walked towards the kitchen.

"As hard as we expected, really," Marinette replied as she followed him. "She got bonkers traffic out of running the letter, but that'll decay, and she always did love covering our exploits. She loved being part of them, too. She'll miss superheroes."

"There's always The Owl."

"Stop. Oh, this is nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Adrien said as his eyes wandered about the unfamiliar room.

She shot him a mischievous look. "The perils of growing up rich. You have no idea what all this is for, do you?"

"For… making food," Adrien said.

"That's a dishwasher."

"…I knew that."

She laughed merrily. "I've dragged home a stray, and now I have to housebreak him."

"This is real life," he said with a wry grin and a helpless shrug.

"And real life will be our life for a while," said Marinette soberly. "Think about this. After the Imperative lifts, I'll want to go back to hero work—and I know you will, too."

"It's part of who we are," said Adrien. "It's part of what I love about you."

"The thing is, we always did our best work as a team," she went on. "But if we both transform and go charging into some disaster, who's watching the baby?"

He frowned. "With Hawk Moth gone, we have all the Miraculouses. We won't have to deal with supervillain-level threats, right? Just low-level stuff. If we're not fighting him, I think we'd be okay with just one…"

"Hm?" she said when he trailed off.

"No," he said, changing his mind before her eyes. "Even if we took it in turns, it wouldn't be the same. I don't want to be Cat Noir. I want to be your Cat Noir. I want to be Cat Noir with my Ladybug." He looked up at her. "You're right, it's a problem."

Marinette looked down at her belly. "You're a real troublemaker, did you know that?"

"Don't blame the baby," Tikki said from Marinette's handbag.

"Oh, did you just volunteer to take the blame, then?" said Marinette.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Tikki, emerging as Marinette let her out. "My anti-birth control aura doesn't affect people who never bothered to use birth control."

Marinette winced, but Adrien blinked. "She has a what, now?"

"Let's just say that we'll be keeping Tikki more than five meters from the master bed," Marinette said. "For now, though, check it out, Tikki! This is our home!"

"Oooh, I like it," Tikki cooed, zipping through the air. "So homey and fresh!"

"I suppose I should give Plagg a chance to breathe," Adrien said with faux-reluctance, and he released the black cat kwami.

"That's all I'm getting out of this," Plagg said with unconvincing resentment. "All places are alike to me. I won't get all domestic."

"Whatever you say, buddy," said Adrien, "but the windows that face the sun are over there."

"Hm?" said Plagg, turning in the direction of Adrien's finger, where even then sunlight was filtering into a puddle on the floor. "Well, that's nice for people who care about that sort of thing."

"I give him five minutes," Adrien mouthed at Marinette. She giggled.

"The good news is I can work from home a lot," said Marinette. "That makes things easier in the short-term, but not as far as hero work goes."

Adrien was looking thoughtful as he observed the kwamis—Tikki buzzing around and taking in the new spaces, Plagg nonchalantly drifting towards the sun puddle. "Well, there's a solution," he said. "Make her a part of the team."

"Who?" said Marinette suspiciously.

"Our daughter."

"You are out of your mind."

"If we can't leave her behind," said Adrien with a pretty good imitation of sincerity, "let's just bring her along."

"I'm not stuffing my baby into a sling so I can keep her handy when I become Ladybug."

"I'm not saying that, I'm saying give her a kwami so she can do her part."

"You've been watching too many American shows," Marinette said, burying her hand in her palm. "She's not even born yet and you're talking about giving her a kwami!"

"You said 'she'," Adrien said gleefully.

She glared up at him. "It's a good thing you're cute and I love you."

"And he makes good babies," said Tikki approvingly.

Marinette flushed as Adrien guffawed. "Hey, whose side are you on?"

The kwami just smiled, shrugged, and buzzed off again.

"We can talk about it more later," said Marinette, turning towards the back of the house. "We don't need to have all the answers yet. I'll come up with a plan eventually."

"That's your specialty," said Adrien.

It was. For some reason, Marinette had a feeling that "Auntie Alix" would be involved somehow. Their friend did know how to keep a secret…

"Well, we've got time," she said, turning on lights to illuminate the bedrooms. "Like you said, Hawk Moth is done, and we're retired. We get to start again on our terms, when we're ready, and not because some enemy Miraculous-user declares war. We get to do it our way." She looked at him triumphantly. "You know what that means, right?"

He blinked. "It means a lot of things. What are you thinking?"

"We won!" she said, raising her arms. "I don't know how we did it, but we won! I thought it would have to be some dramatic confrontation, some big final showdown, with us giving out Miraculouses to random passers-by just to have enough firepower to survive the onslaught… I thought it would end with a bang. But it really is over, isn't it?"

"We've got the missing Miraculouses back under our control," Adrien agreed, "and just in time to be done with high school exams for good. That sounds like 'it's over' to me. But that's just one adventure. Our next adventure's just getting started."

"I like the way you think," she said. "And I know the perfect way to kick things off."

She walked into the master bedroom. The door to the master bath was open, though neither made a move to investigate just yet. As advertised, the master bed was furnished. The queen-sized bed dominated the room, though it was bereft of sheets.

"Thinking about going to bed already, milady?" he teased.

"Yes, actually," she said slyly. "But not in that bed. There will be so many chances to make love in that bed. Days and weeks and years. For now, we need to break in the rest of our home."

"'Break in'?"

"I want sex in every room in the apartment," she explained, walking back out of the master bedroom and into the second bedroom. This was wholly empty, though it had a small closet whose doors were open. "That's how we break it in. We experience the whole thing." She smirked at him. "It might be easier to do before our stuff gets here."

He recovered from his surprise quickly. "I will gladly make sweet, tender love to you wherever you like."

She waggled her eyebrows at him. "So long as you promise to fuck me a few times, too."

He laughed. "Any time you're ready, my lady," he said, stepping up to embrace her.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Stay right here. I need my backpack."

She tapped a finger against his lips before squirting out of his grasp, not unlike what she'd done for years as Ladybug, fending off Cat Noir's advances. And, just like it had all those times, her evasion didn't dampen his desire for her at all: it inflamed it. Knowing she would actually come back this time made the feeling even more intense.

He didn't have to wait long. When she reentered the room, she was unfurling a sleeping bag. Adrien couldn't help but laugh. "Is that the sleeping bag your mom offered us?"

"Yep," said Marinette merrily as she laid it out. "Ladybug always knows when something might come in handy later."

"You have a fertile imagination, Bugaboo."

Cringing, Marinette put a hand over her belly. "Did you seriously just say that?"

"I'm not sorry, but how about I kiss you as if I was?"

She gave a contented hum. "Close enough."

"I have to warn you, though," he said, stepping forward and pulling her into his arms. "Once I start, I might not be able to stop."

She batted her eyes at him. "That's the idea."

"I love you, my Ladybug."

"I love you, my Adrien."

In the living room, Tikki sighed happily. "They're so cute at this age," she said, pretending to wipe away a tear.

"Whatever," said Plagg, curled up in the sun puddle and ostentatiously paying no attention.

"I love you too, old friend."

"That's not what I said," Plagg retorted, annoyed.

"Yes it was," Tikki replied. "I can translate Plagg-ese."

"Whatever."

The Kwami of Creation smiled in triumph.

Fin