To yellow 14: Huh. I've been getting the emails, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. I try to be consistent in when I publish, but sometimes (like today) I'm a little late.

Paola pushed the makeshift door aside with her foot and stepped into the small cubicle, two cups of water in her hands. The room was tiny, even by Miraculous Temple standards, only large enough for a single cot pushed into the corner against the stone wall, a folding chair, and an end table with a Kwami-sized pillow. They were in what until recently had been the Angolan Temple's training room, but which they had subdivided into six of these cubicle-sized dormer rooms, with a narrow corridor separating the two sides, just wide enough to pass someone going in the other direction. Mihaela had given Paola the room next to this one – she had protested that she didn't need special treatment, but Julia had insisted that she take it. She wanted Paola close by.

Entering the room, Paola cautiously pushed the door shut with her foot, trying not to make any noise as she did so. Julia sat at the head of the cot, leaning back against the wall, cradling her belly with one hand and rubbing it with the other. Her eyes were clenched shut, tears streaming down her cheeks. Both Mettli and Balamm lay curled up on her shoulders, Mettli pressed up against her neck, a soft whimper emanating from her throat. As the door closed, Julia sniffled, almost too softly for Paola to hear. Paola let out a heavy sigh and collapsed into the chair, pressing one of the water cups into Julia's hand. Julia shook her head, her brows knit together, and tried to push it back into Paola's hand.

"You have to drink some water," Paola told her softly. She placed the other cup on the end table, pushing the unused Kwami pillow out of the way as she did so, and clasped both her hands around Julia's hand and the cup she held. "With all of–" she gestured toward Julia's eyes "–we can't have you getting dehydrated. Especially not now."

Julia opened her eyes and turned on Paola, pain and grief written across her face. "Why?"

Paola's gut churned on hearing the helplessness and weakness in her voice, so unlike its usual fiery quality. But she couldn't allow herself to give in to Julia's despair – Julia needed more from her than that. Calling on her own strength, Paola raised an eyebrow meaningfully and nodded to Julia's belly. "I would have thought that's obvious."

Julia sighed heavily, her lower lip quivering. "But without Pablo…" She clenched her eyes shut and forced herself to take a shuddering breath. After a long pause, she opened her eyes, a trace of that accustomed resolve returning to her mien. "I have to go back," she finally whispered. "He needs me. I–"

Paola put a hand on Julia's shoulder and shook her head. "Chica, you can't. It's too dangerous. He… he's gone."

"No!" Julia took a ragged breath. "No… not just him. His–his miraculous–" She swallowed. "Atsaa–"

Mettli perked up. "We can't just leave Atsaa in Paris," she squeaked. "We have to get him back!" The Kwami looked over at Julia, whined, and settled back against her neck, her tail beating steadily.

Nodding slowly, Paola looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to suppress a sniffle. "But we couldn't retrieve it – not while the–the rampage continued." Her stomach churned, all of her guilt from the past week rising back up to the surface. Pablo had trusted her to get Julia out of danger… and she had stumbled. That brief, momentary lapse had been all it took for the Tarasque to catch up to them. And then there had been nothing she could do: if Pablo hadn't intervened, neither she nor Julia would still be alive. "I wish we could have… but we had to stay alive."

Julia's hands clenched and unclenched agitatedly. "We–we can't just leave him there," she whimpered. "We–we have to get back to him. He deserves–" she shuddered "–he deserves a–a proper–" Her words choked off, and she swallowed hard.

Paola put a hand on Julia's. "I know, chica. I know. We will give him the burial he deserves. We'll give both of them the burial they deserve." Julia nodded jerkily, but winced as a spasm of pain crossed her face. Paola eyed her carefully, as Julia's arm tensed around her belly, but her eyes opened and she looked up at Paola. "Are you okay?" Paola asked.

Julia sighed heavily. "I'm fine," she ground out bitterly. "Just… so much. We lost so much. We lost two miraculous last year. I can't – I can't lose Pablo–" her voice hitched "his miraculous…"

"Chica, I will get it back," Paola promised. Julia's eyes locked with hers. "Not now – we can't. Paris is too dangerous to even try it. But as soon as we can, I will get it – both of them. I'll even go back alone if I have to. I promise you that. But you can't do it. You have to stay here, where it's safe." Julia's eyes flashed. Paola steeled herself. "You need to hear this! Without Pablo, we need you. The baby needs you. Marco needs you. The rest of the–"

Julia screamed, her voice echoing off the stone ceiling, and slammed her fist into the cot frame. "Of course it all falls on me! Why the hell wouldn't it all fall on me?!" She shuddered. "I thought it was hard enough when it was me and Pablo…" she whispered, wiping her cheek with the back of one hand. "But he's gone. The love of my life – father of my children – dead. Incinerated. Crushed. In front of my eyes… and now I'm stuck with two babies to raise on my own – to say nothing of a whole miraculous team! Everyone needs a piece of me! Marinette and Adrien keep asking what I think we should do – how the hell should I know? Dan and Maria and Luis – and you – keep asking what they should do." She gripped her belly. "And this little guy–" She gasped and broke down in tears. Staring at Paola, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, she whispered, "What do I do?"

Anxious, Paola's eyes darted to the door, half-fearing the sight of fluttering wings. With how emotional Julia was, could it attract an Akuma? She had never experienced Hawk Moth; while Pablo and Dan had followed the news out of Paris, she had never been interested. But now… was this what the Parisians had experienced for two years? The fear that at any moment their own emotions would be turned against them. And in this case… An Akumatized miraculous user would be bad enough, but a pregnant miraculous user? She shuddered. Silently, Balamm caught Paola's eye and nodded, flying off toward the door. Placing her hand on Julia's shoulder and releasing a slow breath, Paola told Julia, "I promise: you are not alone. We are all here with you. You aren't going to be doing any of this on your own. You have me, and Maria, and Lise, and so many others who will help you with Marco and the little one. And we will help you guide our team, too. You don't have to be the only one running our team – you've done so much to take care of our team; let our team take care of you for a change."

Julia's breathing hitched, and she threw her arms around Paola in a tight hug. Suddenly, Julia gasped and tensed, digging her fingers into Paola's shoulders. She pulled back and stared at Paola, her eyes wide, before her eyes drifted down to her stomach. Paola's stomach clenched, a hitch in her own breath. Subconsciously she began counting. But it couldn't be happening – not now, not here. It was too soon! "Balamm, get me Mão Curadora!" she yelled. There was a flash of color near the door, but Paola's eyes were still locked on Julia, scanning her from top to bottom. Julia's arms tensed again, and she shuttered. Paola suppressed a gasp, her eyes stopping on Julia's legs.

"I–I think my water broke."