Ira19: Thanks! And yep, I'm diverging from canon hard. I'm basically throwing everything after Season 1 out the window. As for Alya becoming Rena Rouge in this fic, I have no plans for it, but it's certainly an interesting idea. I also appreciate the feedback! I'll make a note of it and see how I can tweak those paragraphs when I have time. This was definitely the scene that took me the longest to write and edit. If you have any more feedback in the future, I would love to hear it. =)
Chapter 16
With Croquis defeated, the wall of gouache collapsed and in came the reporters into the newly-rebuilt Louvre plaza. No surprise. Even through the haze of pain, Régalien knew the battle had lasted far longer than normal, long enough for the noisiest reporters arrive on the scene.
Two akumas. Both still with Hawkmoth's magic in them and a piece of the Cure. Beyond the fog in his mind, Régalien heard a child that sounded like Slip-N-Slide bawling and hysterically calling for his parents.
And Hawkmoth himself, lost to the wind.
Régalien lay on the floor, on his knees with the Grimoire pressed tightly against his chest with aching arms. When the wind blew, he felt rather than saw the place where Hawkmoth had ripped the page. It was like pouring salt into the wound, the constant stinging turning into wildfire cascading down his back.
For the life of him, Régalien couldn't recall which hero had been on the page, but he felt the void in his chest all the same. Fingers, numbed from Croquis's paint, uncurled enough to caress the pages that survived the attack. Their magic reflexively reached out to comfort him.
"We have to go." Ladybug crouched in front of him, forcing his chin up to meet her eyes. He saw she only had two active spots on her Miraculous. Yet she only had eyes for him and whatever expression he had on his face. Could have been anger. Could have been grief. For someone whose powers lay in emotions, Régalien couldn't focus on a single on.
"Can you get up?" she asked of him.
He shook his head, so she and Chat Noir gently hooked their arms under his armpits and helped him to his feet. The movement was enough to pull on the cut along his back. Régalien choked back a cry.
"Sorry, sorry," both of them muttered in a broken mantra.
Ladybug craned her head towards the rooftops of the museum's wings, then to the exits on the ground floor. Régalien followed her, eyes too sluggish to notice anything beyond the fact that the Cure worked on everything else. Buildings were whole. Sidewalks and pathways were good as new. Paris would live for another day.
Someone called out their names. Régalien forced his feet flat underneath him and let himself be tugged through the Porte des Lions and out into the city. Civilians crowded around the entrance. Like sharks at the scent of blood, they immediately detected something out of the ordinary. Chat Noir used his staff to deter them away, even as he himself struggled to walk upright without its support. The warbling cries of their Miraculouses rang above the concerned chatter.
In the middle of their escape, the Grimoire left his arms. Régalien startled from his fog, the panic in his throat but his mouth too tired to yell.
Chat Noir gripped his shoulder before he could swing his arm out to try and get it back. "Hey, I got it, I got the book. Focus on just getting to the rooftops."
It wasn't right that the Grimoire was in somebody else's possession. He didn't know how he managed before Master Fu had given it to him, but now it was like living without a limb, phantom pain making him reach for something that wasn't there.
He already lost one page. Another one would break him.
Régalien leaned into Chat Noir, determined to keep the Grimoire in his sights even as his knees kept on buckling every couple of steps.
Where was Cloak? his tired mind asked before his thoughts wandered back to the missing page and the hurt that persisted in his chest.
It said a lot about the power of the Miraculous that Régalien still managed to make it to the roofs of the buildings outside the Musée de Louvre. Afterwards he made it three blocks before his body gave out on him. Leaning on the side of his uninjured arm, he slid down the length of a chimney to sit. Immediately his bones became jelly, and he knew he wasn't getting up for a while.
Chat Noir and Ladybug took a look around before they let their transformations fall; Adrien immediately took a seat, one hand against his side. Marinette glanced between the injured boys, then Régalien waved her to her boyfriend's side. After a beat of tense silence, she accepted his reluctance and checked whether Adrien had bled through his bandages.
Duusu? Régalien mentally asked, note quite deciding on an emotion, not with his heart still hammering in his chest. When there was no answer from her end, he tried again, inner voice bordering on desperate. Duusu, did you know? Talk to me, dude.
Nothing. Régalien eventually felt Adrien and Marinette's eyes on him. Without being addressed, Régalien shook his head and just curled his legs closer to his chest. If he dropped his transformation right now, the pain would hit him like a truck.
With Adrien attended to, Marinette was the first one to sweep over him with all the protectiveness of a frenzied mother hen. Her shaking hands hovered over his body, her worry clogging the air between them like smog. Even Tikki, hovering just out of sight, made eating a cookie a tense affair.
"Where does it hurt?" She was wound tight, and her fingers shook as they lingered in the air. "Can we do anything while we wait? How do you feel?"
Physically? Hawkmoth's cut to his back and arm coalesced into a continuous mass of throbbing. With the hand that wasn't holding his injured arm, he motioned to the general area of injuries and hoped she got the message of everything sucks and everything hurts.
Marinette knelt to inspect the cut on his arm. Gingerly— and with his nod as permission— she parted the ruined cloth. Régalien bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying out. His torn sleeve was like sandpaper against his skin.
"It's not bleeding anymore. See, no big deal," she said, leaning back on her heels and going for a smile; her knotted string told a different story. "Master Fu will patch you up in no time." Her smile wavered when she looked up at his face. "Régalien?"
Régalien's vision grew blurry as more and more tears gathered in his eyes, until they fell over his mask to cascade down his cheeks. He sloppily wiped away the tears with his numb hand, but the damage had been done. Both Wielders and Kwamis had their eyes on him. The worry was tangible to his magic, almost suffocating, and he flip flopped over hating the attention and hoping it continued.
Adrien scooted over and tentatively offered the Grimoire to him, and when Régalien took it, its power gave him enough strength to speak the ugly truth.
"Hawkmoth was a Peacock Wielder." Their shocked gazes somehow made him guiltier that he never knew — or even suspected— in the first place. Duusu remained silent on his end, so Régalien launched into a confession that started coherent, then quickly spiraled into a ramble. "He tore out a page out of the Grimoire, and he was able to read it, and he even said he wrote it, but I don't know which one it was, and—"
Marinette gripped him by the shoulders, grinding his words to a painful stop in his throat.
Words like idiot and blind swirled in his head, fueled by the instinctive nature in him to protect the Grimoire at all cost. Even though he knew that he'd tried his best, the insistent responsibility bestowed by the Peacock Miraculous continued to tell him that none of this should have happened at all. He should have been better.
"Breathe, breathe," she advised him, breathing with him. Régalien took in a shuddering breath, then another, until he wasn't pressing the Grimoire so tightly against his chest. Marinette smiled in encouragement, even as the distressed fluttering of a flute echoed through her string.
"Thanks, dude," he muttered through the lump in his throat. "Guess now I know why Hawkmoth targeted me. Who knows what he could do with the Grimoire if he can read its spells."
Hawkmoth had been so close to getting it. There had to be something he could do with it.
Marinette, with the shingles of the roof digging into her knees and just as exhausted as he was, kept steadying him so he wouldn't spiral again. "You still got the Grimoire and your life, so I say Hawkmoth still got the raw end of the deal. And you managed to hold him off by yourself. Nino," and that got his attention, "you did amazing back there."
Tikki finished off her cookie and alighted on Régalien's shoulder. Her touch was enough to soothe the ache running along his arm and back. Even the numbness in his fingers, caused by Croquis's paint, faded.
Tikko brushed some of what could have been goauche or sweat from his face. "You did a magnificent job."
"Thanks," he repeated, and it sounded a bit more genuine this time around. "But what about Croquis and Slip-N-Slide? We didn't get their part of the Cure from them, or Hawkmoth's magic."
Marinette sighed, small smile still in place. "You had Hawkmoth on your tail, survived, and you're worried about that? We'll update the list and get it done during patrol. What's one more night?"
Régalien felt just a tad more at ease, and looked towards Adrien, only for there to be a cry of, "Plagg, Claws Out!" and a shower of green magic. Chat Noir, despite the slight hunch from his injured side, was crouched, ready to leap into the expanse of Paris. There was a brewing sense of anger in his string, a dark melody he'd heard only scant times before. It was a lot like when Chat Noir and Ladybug had tried to take Alya from him, glare hard and cold as steel.
"Chat," Marinette started, then stopped when he didn't spare her a glance.
"I'm letting Master Fu know we're on our way," were his curt words, accompanied by the furious typing on his communicator.
Régalien leaned, drawn by Chat Noir's rolling storm of emotion. What had he missed?
Marinette turned back to Régalien. "Hey, one short trip to Master Fu's, and you'll be good as new." Something must have shown on his face because her expression grew stern. "I don't know what's the deal you have with Master Fu, but there's no one else that can patch you up without outing your secret identity."
Dammit, she was right. Master Fu was his only option. There was only so much his convenience store first aid kit could accomplish.
"We're not leaving you," she clarified when he still said nothing, and Régalien almost cried right then and there from the sincerity.
Marinette glanced between them until she closed her purse and called without her usual enthusiasm, "Tikki, Spots On!"
(Tikki's healing presence left him, and the returning sting was like a punch to the gut.)
She helped Régalien to his feet, directing him to where he could feel Master Fu's faint string of emotion. Régalien twined it around his wrist before it slipped through his fingers. If Ladybug dropped him, then he could at least crawl to the massage parlor, or catch a bus.
"Chat?" Ladybug voiced.
"I'll lead the way," was his only, strained response before he leaped off the edge.
The next fifteen or so minutes were an exercise in ignoring one pain for another. Régalien alternated from mentally complaining about his back, to his arm, to the aching hole in his heart that the page Hawkmoth stole once filled.
And underneath it all was the terrible feeling of dread he couldn't bare to broach just yet.
Ladybug said the occasional comforting word while Chat Noir continued to ruminate in his anger and leading them through the routes with the least number of civilians. The word of Hawkmoth finally showing his face must have gone around because there more people than usual lingering out in the open, maybe hoping for a glimpse of the elusive villain.
When the heroes landed on the small rooftop with the forgotten lawn chairs, Chat Noir almost smashed through the door in his haste to open it. He flew down the stairs like a bat out of hell, the heels of his boots clicking and echoing like a drum leading them to war. Régalien stumbled a bit until he stepped on the hardwood floors of the parlor's second floor. He leaned against Ladybug before he lost his footing.
They were in luck. A wide array of medical supplies were already arranged on the coffee table, and the chatter of customers was absent. Master Fu stood up from the couch, taking in the scene with a calculated sweep of his eyes. "I'm glad you could make it— "
"How dare you!" Chat Noir yelled, leaving Ladybug and Régalien in favor of stomping over to Master Fu. His string vibrated, almost snapped under the onslaught of the pent up anger that had started at the rooftop.
"Chat!" Ladybug cried, reaching out for him, but stopped when Régalien grappled her arm for support.
Master Fu remained in place even as Chat Noir stalked towards him, teeth bared, claws out for the room to see. When he stopped in front of the Guardian, sheer willpower kept him from leaping.
Chat Noir's voice was gravel, each word dragged through his teeth. "You knew Hawkmoth used to be a Peacock. How fucking dare you keep that from us?"
Master Fu looked from Chat Noir to Régalien, until Régalien uttered from the depths of his soul, "He tore a page from the Grimoire. He could read it. He wrote it."
As much as Master Fu bothered him, admitting it to him tore a whole new wound of guilt. Master Fu had tried to guilt him to keep the Peacock Miraculous, but it had been Nino's decision to keep it, to use it and fight with it. Despite everything he had accomplished in such a short span, Hawkmoth literally ripping a piece of him hurt more than he thought it ever would. Maybe it was because most of the heroes in the Grimoire— teams and Peacocks alike— only existed within these pages, and Régalien was their only defense between them living on or being shredded into pieces.
It dawned on Master Fu, in a tidal wave of understanding, what they had managed to uncover. His composure flickered, eyebrows rising an inch, the hands clasped behind his coming around to worry the bracelet on his wrist.
Régalien couldn't help the groan building up in his throat; the pain seemed to be getting worse.
"Set him down on the sofa," Master Fu advised in a twisted sense of déjà vu.
"You're not touching him," Chat Noir barked, sliding himself between Master Fu and his team.
"Chat, he's hurt," Ladybug reminded him as she helped ease Régalien down on the sofa.
There had never been a softer or more luxurious sofa than this one. Régalien dissolved into it, twisting on his side to avoid the injuries on his back. Every ache throbbing within him clamored for an inch of cushion. He stretched out as much as he could until his boots met the opposite armrest.
The Grimoire never left his side. Now it was nestled between his head and the couch.
Régalien tuned back to the conversation unfolding in front of him. Putting whatever fingers he could move against the Grimoire's cover helped him focus enough to catch the tail end of Chat Noir's scathing remarks.
"— and we don't need more advice from you."
"Hey, I'm right here." Régalien managed a wave, then immediately regretted it when the cut on his arm flared.
He caught Master Fu's gaze and stiffened. That was simply more incentive for Chat Noir to raise his hackles and block Master Fu from getting closer by standing between him and the sofa. Not even the pain from his side could deter him.
Master Fu respected the distance and said, voice pitched low, "I understand what you may be feeling. Please let me explain my intentions."
Ladybug lay a hand on Chat Noir's bicep. "Chat, we're not going to get any answers like this." Her voice trailed off, eyes wandering to Master Fu.
Chat Noir whirled to her. Either Chat Noir was so mad he was vibrating or Régalien had been hit too many times on the head. "You're not mad that he kept this from us? From you?"
Ladybug chewed her bottom lip, then said, glancing to the man that had placed this burden on her in the first place. "Did you know, Master Fu?"
He bowed his head. "Yes, I have always known."
While Chat Noir's anger was volatile— every bit of Plagg's chaotic power— hers was quieter, almost silent except for the low, deep notes only Régalien could hear. Ladybug took a breath, then two. She was deciding what to say, he realized, her jaw shifting with unsaid words.
Wayzz chose that moment to zip around them in a nervous frenzy, muttering apologies to everyone and no one in particular, until Master Fu stopped him. "Wayzz, please start prepping the bandages with the salve."
Wayzz froze deliberately between his master and the heroes in much the same way Duusu had gotten between Nino and Plagg when they first met. Leaving Master Fu with Chat Noir still starring daggers seemed to be the last thing he wanted to do, but at a nod Wayzz flew away to the side to start the prep work.
I don't want any help, were the words Régalien wanted to mutter because apparently, stubbornness wanted to win over self-preservation, even when his blood was staining the couch— which he knew he would feel guilty about later, his opinion on Master Fu notwithstanding.
Instead of shooting himself in the foot, Régalien made an effort to sit up as much as he could to make this whole ordeal easier. He should be the one asking why Master Fu knew what Hawkmoth really was and decided not to inform them. He should be the one calling the shots because dammit, he deserved answers.
Duusu? he tried again, not desperate but with anger that came as swiftly as the shooting pain along his arm.
No answer.
Master Fu took a seat on the coffee table when it was clear Chat Noir wasn't going to allow him to take a step forward. Seeing the Guardian doing something so casual, something that any of them would get reprimanded for by their parents if they were at home, went to show just how odd this meeting was.
And it reminded Régalien just enough that Fu was just as human to make him ask, "Why didn't you tell us?"
Master Fu paused with a prepared bandage in his hand.
So Régalien figured he hadn't been loud or bold enough and raised his voice past the croak in his throat "Why didn't you tell us? And screw the rules about past Wielders and their privacy," he added as Duusu's spirit rose up to add her own two cents on the matter. "I had a right to know."
Wayzz came to hand him a wipe with disinfectant, but Régalien waved it off and nearly knocked the Kwami from the air. He didn't need distractions. He needed answers, and he wasn't letting that piece of bravado slip through his fingers.
Master Fu, a statue unmovable before them, put the bandages down on his lap. Chat Noir leaned against the couch, claws digging into the fake leather, tail curling and uncurling. Ladybug stood in place and waited for the world to explain itself.
Régalien held his breath because if he didn't he would be yelling.
"Hawkmoth," Mastet Fu started what should have been said all along, "or the man he was before the Butterfly Miraculous, still remains my biggest mistake. As a Peacock, he had such potential."
Nino drafting up the list. Duusu at his side and soothing his fears. "Within you, I see the potential for greatness."
"But once he found out how to use Seeing Eye to hurt his teammates, rather than help, is when his downward spiral began."
"What happened?" Ladybug asked because Chat Noir was chewing his lip in anger, and Régalien was too rigid with apprehension to speak.
Fu was stone, expression still and his fingers listless over the bandages still in his palms. When he explained it was the quiet, exhausted exhalation of someone finally opening up. "Seeing Eye is meant to take away negative emotions, but Hawkmoth used it to take the positive, hindering his team whenever he could. These emotions are addictive and like a drug he could not shake off, no matter how much I talked to him. He obtained the Butterfly Miraculous by killing the previous Wielder. His lust for power has only grown since then, and I know his abuse of his power led to this tragic fate."
Nino in his bedroom, soul heavy and burdened. Duusu with the Grimoire opened. "I mentioned that Peacocks don't have their own pages. They once did, when they used positive emotions to rid themselves of the emotions from Seeing Eye."
The world became unbearably small. Régalien gripped the collar of his costume as the air grew hotter around him.
Hawkmoth had become Hawkmoth because of the power of the Peacock.
Nino had that power now.
Régalien found the Grimoire back in his arms. There was an argument brewing in front of him, but he was too preoccupied with the sudden bout of nausea he was trying to keep in.
("How could you give such a man a Miraculous?" Ladybug's voice quivered.)
Duusu clamored inside his mind to comfort him in any way she could— something about not getting too upset— but Régalien only heard the blood rushing in his ears as loudly as a crashing waterfall.
("Hawkmoth targeted Régalien in the battle, and we didn't know why because you didn't tell us everything about him!" Chat Noir yelled, yelled, and that was probably the scariest part of all.)
Fu's voice grew quieter. Wood creaked. Worry trickled into the air. "Régalien," Fu's voice spoke, closer now, "Duusu and I chose to keep this from you because you are not Hawkmoth. Just because you have both wielded the Peacock Miraculous does not mean you are destined for the same fate."
Régalien's head shot up when his dread was confirmed. Duusu needing to talk to Fu. Him stuck in the stairwell and blissfully unaware of what they planned to do with him. Like some kind of idiot.
"Duusu knew?"
And like an idiot he had taken her silence for shock.
"She was worried about— "
"Wings Down."
Pain was instantaneous. Aches became fire. The hole in his chest dulled but persisted, a phantom pain he had no way of soothing. Nino reached out to the armrest to stop the sudden vertigo that slammed into him, and Chat Noir caught him, though just barely.
Duusu's high-pitched voice quickly overtook the tense silence, already on the verge of breaking. "Nino, I'm sorry I kept this from you!"
She flew over to him and patted his cheek, her usual gesture, but now it only made Nino recoil as much as he could into the sofa's back. The Grimoire went with him.
"You knew what Hawkmoth was, and you never told me?!" he blurted out as the betrayal truly and heavily set in, a weight on his chest he couldn't shake off.
Duusu wrung her paws again and again, swaying in front of him and searching for a spot where she could comfort him. Yet Nino was closed off, Grimoire tight to his chest, legs pulled up and ready to kick if need be, injuries be damned.
"Nino, I could feel how much you feared befalling to the magic of the Miraculous. It was constantly on your mind and in your nightmares." She glanced around at their audience, but the damage had already been done. Ladybug and Chat Noir were looking at him, their anger turning to pity only he could detect. Duusu's voice grew quieter. "You were in a fragile state where you needed encouragement, not foreboding predictions that may or may not come true."
His heart shouldn't be banging this loudly and it shouldn't hurt. Nino's words were far weaker than he wanted them to be and carried none of the righteous fury broiling in his heart. "Well haven't you heard that those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it?"
"You are not Hawkmoth," she insisted.
"But I am a Peacock, just like him, and how could you keep this from me?"
That's when the dam broke. Nino tried to breathe past the lump in his throat, but the strangled wail was ripped from his aching throat. Tears overflowed his eyes and cascaded down in rivulets before he had the chance to try and hide them.
They were hot, but the sweat that had broken on his face and neck were even more so. It was getting harder to breathe, and the edges of his vision were darkening, just like when Hawkmoth first akumatized him way back when.
But apparently there was no need to get akumatized because the power he already wielded— or could take— was enough.
"Nino— "
He was on his knees know, Chat Noir supporting him by the shoulder and telling him something, like focus and deep breaths. Impossible, really, when Nino couldn't even tell if he was on the carpet or the hardwood floor or still on the couch.
Duusu started to cry. Nino hated the sharp yearning to comfort her even as his tears turned to sobs.
Nino tried to grasp the meditation techniques Duusu had taught him, but with everyone's eyes on him they kept slipping through the cracks in his mind. A mind that Hawkmoth could so easily take over right now, as swiftly as the first time.
"Give him space."
He didn't know whether that was Ladybug or Chat Noir, but he uttered some kind of refusal all the same. Being alone would be great if he ended up being akumatized, but the selfish part of him wanted company.
Nino buried his face in the Grimoire's cover even as the injury on his back protested. Nausea came and went in swells. The fear of losing control itched all along his spine until he had to press himself deeper into the couch just to squash the urge. He didn't want to be Hawkmoth's puppet again. Nino repeated the wish again and again as his fingers raked the Grimoire's leather cover and spine.
He lost track of time. Voices ebbed in and out of focus. Duusu tried once again— and failed— to get his attention until the same give him space voice came back, more forceful than before. This time it brought silence to the room. Only his heart— painful and loud and ready to burst— continued.
A heart attack, something in him declared, but he remained too frozen to do anything about it.
Eventually Nino lifted his heavy head. Darkness blanketed the parlor, except for one, solitary lamp in the corner. Instead of Master Fu on the coffee table there were only the supplies meticulously laid out. His injuries ached, just as fresh and raw as when he had first come in.
(Exhaustion, too. Everything felt ten times heavier.)
Drained but jittery, Nino reached out with his powers and found Adrien talking quietly by the recliner— to Plagg, more likely. When he tried to straighten, the sofa creaked underneath him. They looked up, and their eyes zeroed in on him. Plagg then nodded and dove into the floorboards to disappear with a faint plop of magic.
Adrien left the comfort of the recliner, though he kept his distance by the coffee table until he, too, took a seat on it. Unlike Fu, Adrien was his best bro, and his presence was comforting rather than stifling.
"Hey, do you need anything?" he asked, leaning against his cane for added support.
"No, I…" Nino trailed off, still gathering his bearings. His heart began to slow from from its mad cadence in his ribcage. There was an uncomfortable stickiness where his sweat had dried on his face and neck.
"Do you want me to help you with your cuts?" Adrien picked up the bandages but waited for his word.
Untransformed, his cuts were a never ending assault on his nerves. Yet with the persistent fear of losing control of himself it was bearable if he didn't move too much.
"I think you had a panic attack," Adrien suggested from where he still waited.
Nino glanced down at his hand. There was still a faint tremble that made his wrist ache. "A panic attack?"
Adrien leaned back. The table groaned but held. "I used to get them a lot after my mom disappeared. Horrible nausea? Can't stop crying? Feeling like the world is going to end?"
Nino nodded along, staring past his fingers and to the Grimoire, somehow still on his lap. Maybe the world wasn't ending, but the possibility was still there.
"Are they always this bad?" he asked.
The bandages were put aside; there were more pressing matters at hand. Adrien played with the wooden handle on his cane but eventually said, "Sometimes, but you can do some things to stop them. Deep breaths. Repeating a phrase. Focusing on one specific object." By the light of the corner lamp, Adrien's face softened, sadness making his string vibrate a low, melancholic thrum. "I used to carry this little souvenir my mom bought me and focused on that. Worked like a charm."
Nino had tried to breathe. He'd tried to say something— or maybe he did and he just couldn't remember.
"How about your necklace?"
At Adrien's urging, Nino brought out the necklace with its three charms from beneath his shirt. When he only stared, Adrien scooted closer, leaned in with his cane, and put a thumb and forefinger on the cat's paw. "You focus on one thing at a time. Like the texture. Or the color. Maybe a new scratch that appeared. The more things you can focus on, the better. Eventually the panic will pass."
Nino briefly tried that, his thumb going over the miniature paw pads and the indents of fur. It was very detailed, too detailed for it to be from some mall kiosk, and once again he wondered how much it cost.
Not that Adrien or Marinette would hear it. Though he couldn't see her, Nino felt her string, worried and frayed with nerves.
"Thanks, man," he said, then said it again, and again until he was sure that Adrien wasn't going to up and leave him.
His best bud just took it all, patient and a complete contrast to the furious ball of energy he had been— how long ago? Nino's hand itched to check the time on his phone, but the possibility of a million missed calls kept his hand still.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Adrien eventually asked.
It. Now that was a loaded topic. Instead, Nino asked, "You made everyone leave?"
It felt strange not to have Duusu by his side, as stinging as the betrayal felt.
Adrien tipped his head to the stairs leading to the first floor. He chewed on his words. "Made them is a strong word. Marinette and Master Fu wanted to give you space anyway. Duusu, well…" Adrien scratched his cheek. "Tikki had to convince her because she was getting kind of scary. I could actually feel her sadness. Don't know you do the whole feeling emotions thing 24/7."
"Still getting used to it," Nino murmured and shrugged. This time when he was offered the first antiseptic wipe to clean his cuts he took it. Setting the Grimoire aside, Nino twisted to see the cut along his arm, now visible with his short-sleeve shirt. There was a lot of blood, but the actual cut didn't seem too bad, though the fact that it stretched from his shoulder to his elbow meant his entire arm burned.
Cleaning it stung just as horribly as he thought it would. Nino bit through the worst of it— it was deeper near his shoulder— until it looked relatively clean and he could apply the butterfly stitches Adrien handed him. They were annoying little things, and pinching the two sides of the wound together made him wish Hawkmoth had hacked the whole thing off instead. Eventually, though, they stuck,
As Adrien helped him wrap the bandages around the cleaned and "stitched" wound, Nino found himself asking, "So if Fu knew all along that Hawkmoth was a Peacock Wielder, does that mean he knows his identity?"
Adrien hummed, and that frustration from earlier came through. "He says the moment Hawkmoth killed the previous Butterfly Wielder he began to search for him all over France, but he never found him. Even after twenty years. It isn't until last year that Hawkmoth showed up. Master Fu searched again and still nothing."
"What's his name?" Nino had to ask just as the bandage was clipped in place.
"He didn't say. I don't think he wants us to go after him."
Fair. Hawkmoth had already killed one Wielder. Plus, they already had a plan.
Adrien's eyes lingered on the bandaged arm. "That might need real stitches. Maybe you can sneak off tomorrow and go to a clinic? Say a dog did it? Heard that's been going around. Now do you want to take off your shirt so I can help you with the cut on your back? Promise not to tell Alya."
"She'll probably say something about how you're high maintenance and deserve the best," Nino joked back, and found it surreal he could actually be so lighthearted after everything today.
Adrien turned up his nose, and there was that defiant sparkle he had back at their last gaming session. "I'll have you know that I can survive on the most basic needs."
Taking the shirt off hurt more than the actual cut. Shallow, Adrien told him when he turned around to face the back of the couch. "You don't have to do this, you know," Nino said when he heard Adrien adjust his position for the umpteenth time, the end of his cane banging against the edge of the table. He had no idea how Adrien's side was treating him, especially after that battle.
"You did this for me once, so suck it up and let me help you." Just like that, the cut was patched up, and Nino turned back around, shrugging on his bloodied shirt with arms that felt like wet noodles.
There was a worrying in Adrien's string. Nino dismissed it as his friend just being concerned, until Adrien said, just above a whisper, "Did you.. Did you get hurt when you found your Miraculous? Master Fu mentioned you probably had to take it because you were in danger…"
Nino bit his lip. Adrien was smart, something most people forgot when they only saw the billboards and model shoots, and he could tell that Adrien was starting to piece the clues together. He never missed the glances he snuck the Grimoire and the note of guilt that accompanied it. After all, he clearly remembered the first time Régalien had been spotted and where a certain Nino Lahiffe had been just before.
He couldn't lie to Adrien, not after all this.
"Remember Iron Lung? And that truck on the side of the road that you guys saw me in?"
Adrien's eyes narrowed at the recollection, then widened. "You were inside. But how did you…?"
The events and times seemed to connect in Adrien's mind. He turned to the Grimoire, then to Nino, and finally to the Miraculous still on his belt. Adrien leaned back as far as his side would allow him, staring at the ceiling with an unreadable expression.
"So my dad and Maser Fu know each other," he told the air. "Makes sense, with the book in his safe, and maybe I did see the Peacock Miraculous there." Adrien narrowed his eyes at the invisible mind map he was no doubt constructing. Then he straightened. "Can't exactly tell him I know because secret identity and all that. At least he knows where the book is now. But, Nino, why did you keep the Miraculous after that? Or after we were so cold to you?"
Nino sat up and found the motion uncomfortable with his brand new bandages. "Hey, man, have you been feeling guilty about that all this time?"
Adrien groaned and pulled at his bangs in frustration. "Sorry, this is the last thing you need. Man, I was actually trying to distract you."
"No, no, it's a nice… distraction," Nino admitted. Focusing on other things helped keep that terrible what if he had shared before his panic attack at bay. It was a lot like putting gauze over his cut; he needed real stitches, and he knew it would hurt once his full attention was on it, but for now, it was okay. "I guess I just figured that we were cool."
"We are, it's just that…" Adrien worried his lip. "Why? Now you're involved in all of this." He waved his hand uselessly at everything: the injuries, the Miraculous, the two boys whose chat was anything but mundane.
Nino shut his eyes for a moment, weighing the options, and figured the truth was here for the long haul.
"I did it because of you, dude," he admitted, finally. "I knew I would get my ass handed to me if I walked into another akuma fight. Like man, I almost got myself killed with that akuma at the Jardin des Plantes." Nino ignored the clear alarm at that little, previously undisclosed tidbit. "I figured if I was a superhero I could actually, you know, stop you from getting hurt."
Adrien breathed a faint, "Nino."
Nino held up a hand as Adrien's string rocketed it up on the guilt motif and said, "And I'm still doing it not just because of you or Marinette. It's my parents, too. They deserve to live in a Paris that is Hawkmoth-free."
Adrien shut his mouth, opened it again, and nodded. "We really lucked out with you, didn't we?"
Nino chuckled, still too exhausted for a full-blown laugh but feeling something of that confident self from the past week. He then glanced around the dimly-lit room.
"Can we get out of here? I just want to go home and…" He didn't really know what he wanted to do, but it was better than being near this place.
Adrien replaced the unused bandages back into the kit at the edge of the table. The click as the lid closed echoed too loudly in the second floor. "I get it. You sure you don't want to swing by a clinic first?"
"No, no, I need to see my parents and make sure they're alright." Hawkmoth had been close, too close, and the paranoia that had bloomed within him ever since he had strapped on the Peacock Miraculous was ringing in his ears.
Nino stood on his feet, took a step, then immediately put his hand out for support. Dammit. He needed to transform if he had any hope of making it home without eating pavement. By Adrien's hesitant look, he had deduced the same.
Nino dared to look around, but Duusu was nowhere to be found on the second floor. Guess she really gave him space.
Nino somehow inched himself to the stairwell leading to the first floor, knowing she was down there, needing her despite everything, but did he actually want to see her, though?
Though noting the rather steep incline of the steps, he figured getting down would be the bigger problem.
"Marinette," he called when he spotted her near the entrance, body curled up in a chair.
She lifted her head and immediately climbed the stairs two at a time. "How are you?" she asked once she tugged him away from the edge. Nino ended up leaning against the railing, back to the first floor and whoever he wanted to avoid down there.
"Good," was the lame response. "I just needed to find Duusu, to transform and get out of here."
When it seemed holding himself was too much, Marinette's hand landed on his elbow and guided him past the sofa and to the door that led up to the rooftop. The bird in him ached to escape these four walls and see the sky.
"She'll come once you say your transformation phrase, even if she's a bit far away right now" she told him as she eased him to lean against the wall. "You don't have to talk to her right now."
"Or ever?" he muttered.
"When you're ready," Marinette amended.
"And Fu?"
Marinette frowned as Adrien simmered at the name. She sighed as her own emotions flipped from anger to frustration to sadness in quick succession.
"We don't need to worry about that right now," Adrien said for all of them. "We told him about the cloaked guy that helped us, and that's all he needs to know right now. He pretty much said he doesn't know what other powers Hawkmoth has, or even if has any left over Peacock powers besides being able to read the Grimoire."
"So business as usual?" Nino supplied.
They agreed with nods to each other. Miraculouses and knowledge in hand, they were a team with a plan.
Marinette and Adrien soon became Ladybug and Chat Noir once again. Nino hesitated, then figured prolonging it would only hurt more.
"Wings Up."
A blue flash flew from the first floor, up the stairs and into his Miraculous. Immediately Duusu's presence slotted right next to his. Régalien tried to shove her out of his immediate thoughts, but it wasn't something he could necessarily control. Duusu was blissfully silent in his mind, though. He hoped it would last.
With the worst of his injuries bearable enough for him to function, Régalien followed Ladybug and Chat Noir back on the rooftop. The evening sky doused the street and rooftops in dark orange, and the first street lamps lit up the sidewalks for those coming back from work. Régalien went to the edge, reveling in the height and the air cooling his face. He rubbed the bandages on his arm, feeling the terrible ache and deciding that Adrien's dog excuse was the most plausible one he could come up on such short notice.
The three heroes traveled the rooftops together until they eventually parted ways.
He didn't want to talk to Duusu, yet he did. It was like staring down at the back of a graded test, dreading yet anticipating the results. She was a constant warmth in his chest when transformed; there was no hope in ignoring her for long.
His new injuries were mostly patched up, and the numbness had mostly left his hand. Still when Régalien de-transformed in the alleyway next to his apartment the pain left him gasping. He leaned his shoulder against the alley wall long enough to catch his breath.
Duusu flew out, took one look at his stormy expression, and slipped under his hat.
Nino made the painful climb up to his apartment floor and ghosted through the front door just in time for dinner. His parents zeroed in on the noticeable bandage along his arm— damn the short-sleeve shirt— and Nino put in the dog excuse to good use, mixed in with a little Adrien helped me bandage it up for now. Saliha frowned, hands still protectively on his shoulders. Faziel promised a trip to the nearest clinic the next day. Then they sat down to eat like every other family in Paris.
It was a silent affair where instead of gushing about the wonderful date he had with Alya, he contemplated how he was going to co-exist with Duusu just a pencil-throw away from his bed. The Grimoire— miniaturized and hanging off his belt like a keychain— bumped into his thigh whenever he shifted in his chair, reminding him of their connection.
"Did you have a fight with Alya?" his mom asked. "With Adrien?" Saliha ventured when Nino continued to eat sullenly.
"Why do think it was a fight?" Nino asked when it was clear he was going to be stuck at the dinner table far longer than he'd originally thought. He was too hungry and too afraid to be alone with Duusu to leave now.
"Because you have the same look you had after your fight with Adrien."
Which is when he had been disagreeing with Duusu for the first time, ironically enough.
Nino spun another tall tale about how the false dog incident had happened and how awesome the imaginary game session he and Adrien shared. He shared some details about his date with Alya, and it brought a small smile to his face. There had been some good after all.
Eventually dinner ended, and Nino was back in his room. Duusu left his hat sometime between Nino staring at the ceiling and staring at the half-opened window. The full-size Grimoire lay on his chest, a comforting weight and the only thing keeping him from rolling over and going to sleep.
"Nino," Duusu started, taking a seat on the Grimoire's cover. "I realize now I shouldn't have kept Hawkmoth's past from you."
Could have. Should have. Would have. Nino counted the indents in the ceiling's layer of paint until Hawkmoth's sneer faded to the back of his mind.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" His words were bitter and short, and Nino bit the inside of his cheek to avoid himself getting worked up again. He didn't know how much protection his powers gave him against being akumatized— if any— but he couldn't risk flying off the handle.
Duusu gauged his expression, then said, "When you overcame your fears over magic, yes."
One time, at a family reunion back in Morocco, Nino had fired off a firecracker. An uncle he never knew the name off began to shake and had to leave. His mom had explained why the sound reminded him of bad times, but a young Nino only wondered whether that meant he always had to hide when there were fireworks.
"I don't know," Saliha had admitted.
On his bed, bandaged and bruised, Nino didn't think he could just overcome this fear, especially with Hawkmoth's magic still stirring inside of him.
His parents' voices drifted through the thin walls of the apartment. Dishes clattered, and the faucet ran. The TV flickered to life.
"I truly am sorry," Duusu said one last time before retiring to her plant.
Nino turned off the light, body aching for rest and his mind too fried to do much of anything productive. After he found a comfortable position— on his uninjured side, pillow propping his back against the wall— Nino shut his eyes and willed the events of the day to the furthest corner of his mind.
He slipped in and out of sleep. He was the Bubbler, then Régalien, always with power brimming in his hands and his heart bursting with anger. Nino was in control but trapped in his mind as his friends fell, then his parents, again and again as the dream changed and repeated.
At one point, the Grimoire clattered to the floor. Nino startled from his frenzied nap and immediately took it in his arms. Its pages lent some of their preserved magic to his frazzled nerves.
A glance at his phone told him it was 11:30pm. It was still Saturday. The living room was silent. With the Grimoire in hand, he stumbled to the window and braced himself on the sill. The Parisian night looked no different than usual. Leftover panic from his nightmare manifested as a nervous drumming of his fingers.
Duusu rose from her nap. Nino opened his mouth for his transformation phrase, then doubled back when Duusu nervously looked up, ruffled feathers turning her from regal to apprehensive.
"Let's visit Alya," he chose to explain. "She must be worried after the battle today. Plus, I owe her an interview."
Even though he needed to find the next spell for their next AV victim to cure, then practice it, then double check if that was truly the best spell for that particular person and their triggered emotion.
Nino continued to hug the Grimoire to his chest and made no move to open it.
Duusu rose into the air, keeping a fair amount of distance between them. Glancing from the night sky to his decidedly pale face, she asked, "Is she going to be awake so late?"
Nino chuckled humorlessly, instantly imagining Alya at her desk with two discarded drafts for a blog post in the bin. "After today? She probably can't go to sleep. What better time to visit?"
Duusu hummed a sad note and said nothing as he transformed.
For the first time in a long while, the magic enveloping him set off alarms in his head. Hawkmoth had used this same power who knows how many years ago, and now here he was, transforming for something as simple as visiting his girlfriend.
That piece of Hawkmoth within him sat heavy in his chest.
Régalien surveyed his costume, but it was the same as ever. The tears had been repaired. His boots and gloves were still form-fitting yet comfortable. Reds and blues were still as vibrant as ever, almost iridescent under the light that streamed from outside.
What had Hawkmoth's costume looked like?
Régalien opened the window. The night stretched out before him, unfamiliar until he leaped from his window sill and muscle memory took hold, the aches from his injuries grounding him to reality. Whether it had been a horrible mistake or not, being the Peacock was as normal as breathing now. There was no need for Duusu to guide his every step anymore.
He traversed the rooftops with a noticeable limp that stemmed from the pain in his back. When he landed it was audible, but at least the jostle to his injured arm wasn't too bad. Régalien continued his journey, picking safe jumps and the occasional lamppost as a stepping stone. Duusu's worry radiated from the back of his mind, but she remained a silent observer.
Régalien knew that he was using Alya as a means to get his mind off things. But as long as he wasn't on the brink of a panic attack he considered this a rather rational decision. Alya was his anchor, his beacon in an otherwise chaotic world, and he went to her like a sinking ship.
He was at her balcony just moments later, feet landing on the edge and tail feathers spread out. Behind the curtains of the French doors shone her bedroom light.
Joy had him jumping to the ground, only to stumble back and brace himself against the railing. Régalien bit back a hiss as his back informed him of his very stupid mistakes.
You need rest, Duusu reasoned with a magical pull at his core.
"Now you're concerned for me?" he couldn't help but mutter.
Apparently Alya had the hearing of a fox because the curtain was pulled back and her shocked face met his. Régalien opened his mouth to say something, but the curtain fell back. Alya's voice echoed in the bedroom. High-pitched voices that could only be her twins sisters responded, then faded.
The French doors were pushed open. Alya swept over to usher him in, thankfully grabbing his good arm. Régalien bounced after her, and the doors closed behind him with an audible click.
Régalien hadn't expected for her to straight up invite him inside, but, well, now he was here.
Alya ran her fingers through her hair. "Sorry I had to kick my sisters out. It's way past their bedtime, anyway and— "
Régalien held up a finger, freezing the words in her mouth. He extended his powers out from the room and into the rest of her three-bedroom apartment. Miraculously, Alya's sisters were not on the other side of the door— as was their habit whenever Nino and Alya studied together. Instead he could sense them in their room across the hallway, twin senses of boredom slipping in and out of his awareness as they, presumably, fought sleep.
Another reach, and he found her parents in their bedroom. Régalien counted his lucky stars that they were simply content- maybe reading a book or doing a crossword puzzle?
"Had to check if there was anybody listening in," he explained when Alya's eyebrows creased in thought.
"Wow," she uttered.
Her eyes fell on him, and Régalien shifted on his feet. He could feel how stiff he was from his injuries, and he was sure she saw it. He said as she continued to stare, "And no, it's alright. I just figured you hadn't cashed in on your interview yet and well, here's the chance?"
"Well, it's not like I had a number to contact you with," she murmured.
"Not sure if there's actually a way to contact a civilian with this." He took out his fan, and Alya was immediately intrigued. The daggers caught the light from her desk and lit up their colors brilliantly. Alya kept her hands to herself but tilted her head for a close look at the intricate designs of the fake feathers.
Then she sobered, and her eyes were on him again. "Hey, you okay? There wasn't a lot of footage about the fight at the Louvre today, but the footage I did see…"
Régalien wanted nothing more than to laugh and joke because he had been such a downer the last time they'd talked. He didn't have the emotional energy to lie through his teeth, though, and he shook his head once. It was as bad as you think, he said without words.
Alya's expression fell, and the worry went from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye. "I don't know what birdboys do on Saturday nights, but I know that you should be resting, not trying to fulfill promises."
"Alya," he said, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt, "I… I appreciate your concern, but I can't just sit in my room in the dark after today. Sleeping didn't go so well, either." Why was he telling her this? He was Régalien, not Nino, and he hadn't earned the right to dump all this on her.
"So I'm your emotional support reporter or something?" she joked, but her emotions told a completely different story.
"Never, but right now I need my mind on something."
Alya's expression softened, and she motioned for him to take a seat on her computer chair: the very spot she had found him in nights ago. She sat cross-leged on the carpet, notepad fished from her backpack, phone out to record.
"I think I only got your name last time and where you're from, so how about we start with: what's the best thing about being a superhero?"
Her smile was infectious, and Régalien soon found himself leaning forward to bask in it.
"Just… being able to go out my window and… be free. I can go to the top of the Eiffel Tower or just take a run on some rooftops and be on the other side of Paris without even getting tired. Well, when I'm not injured or anything."
Alya glanced up from her writing to give him an encouraging smile. "That sounds wonderful."
"It is."
Maybe a trip to the Eiffel Towel wouldn't be bad idea once he felt better.
Alya finished writing her sentence and dived into the next question. "If you could have three wishes, what would you wish for?"
Régalien raised his eyebrows. Alya smiled, but he could see right through her. "Is that seriously your next question?
"Of course!"
"You didn't even look at your notes," he accused.
Alya Césaire was thorough, if nothing else, and he knew— no powers needed— that she had meticulously written a list of questions for this exclusive interview, if the notes on her phone from last time were any indication.
She raised her chin at him. "Maybe I don't need notes. Sometimes the best interviews are the spontaneous ones. Now, answer the question, and no doom and gloom answers. No bad vibes in this bedroom."
"Fine." Régalien rested his head on his arms. "My first wish would be to perform at— " He cut himself off. This wasn't Nino in Alya's bedroom, but Régalien, a very mysterious and totally different person. At least he was supposed to be.
But what wishes did Régalien— someone who was less than a month old— have?
Duusu stirred near his chest, silent but reaching out to remind him that she had never left. He flexed his left hand and distinctly felt the bandages his mom had lovingly wrapped in his sleep, even when he was too exhausted to thank her.
Régalien stared at the carpet that was as familiar as his own. He dug deep, past that piece of magic that wasn't his, past the Kwami silent in his mind, and to that human part of him that had grown bolder over the past two weeks. Bold was good. Bold could be stupid, though.
He began, glancing up to his captive audience, "I guess my first wish would be to learn when something is just too big for me to handle by myself. I feel like half my problems would be solved if I knew when I was biting off more than I can chew. That's not a negative," he added when Alya gave him a look, "just… just something I've realized."
Helping Adrien at the Jardin des Plantes. Agreeing to a Miraculous.
Duusu reached out, but Régalien refused to do reach back, even now with the layers of his heart being carved away.
"Second wish?"
"To make sure my parents don't get too close to this," was his immediate response. "Having a Miraculous is dangerous. I don't want them involved at all."
Unless his parents already knew something. And if they did, just how involved did that make them?
Régalien bit his lip. He couldn't let them get hurt.
"No," Alya told him. He looked down and saw Alya batting his leg with her notebook. "Bad. Vibes."
"Will you chill?" he asked as he tried to dodge the hits without falling backwards from the chair.
"No bad vibes," she reminded him. Alya settled back cross-legged.
"I wasn't even saying anything!" he whispered yelled.
"But you were thinking it. It's the same look you had when you were moaning about how me and my article were wrong about you."
Maybe instead of a domino mask he should wear a cowl. Even as Nino. Alya was way too astute.
"Third wish," he said when it was clear Alya wasn't going to move on, "is that me, Ladybug, and Chat Noir keep working as a team."
He had their trust, and he planned on keeping it that way.
Alya tapped her pencil on the notepad's rings. "See, that wasn't so hard! Now just keep those wishes in mind. Pretty sure you can accomplish them if you put that brain of yours to work."
"But they're wishes, not goals."
Alya sat back to take a good look at him, sitting there, alive, even after everything that went down at the Louvre. "The only difference between a wish and a goal is how much you want it."
Régalien shrugged. "Guess you're right."
And so the interview continued, each question just as positive as the last. Régalien found himself relaxing despite the stiffness in his back and arm. As silly as some of the questions were ("You're faced with an akuma who turns you into an actual bird: what is your plan of action?") Alya still wrote down all his answers. There was no mention of the pictures he had promised; Régalien figured that even with the magical glow-up his transformation gave him, he didn't look camera ready.
Eventually the rest of the house grew dark to his senses as, one by one, Alya's sisters and parents fell asleep. The last cars outside left the streets for home. Alya took down a pillow to lie against as her legs became numb.
Régalien soon forgot the constricting heat of the Miraculous at his waist and Duusu's presence riding shotgun in his mind. He was with his girlfriend— even if she wasn't aware of that particular fact— they were laughing, and he didn't feel like his powers were crawling down his neck like goosebumps.
"There it is," she said after his last answer, eraser end of her pencil pointed at him.
Régalien leaned back; no need for her to get a good look at his face. "There's what?"
"A smile."
He felt it in the corners of his mouth and in the way his shoulders relaxed. Régalien tapped the back of the computer chair, unable to look away from Alya's smug look.
"You got me." As she packed away her notepad, Régalien straightened. "I thought you wanted an hour-long interview?"
"That was an hour. Time flies when you're having fun."
Which meant it was officially Sunday. He survived Saturday. Somehow.
"Thank you for doing that to the Ladyblog for us," Régalien felt the need to say again. "And actually," he began before his bravado ran out, "I do need some information from you."
"Another favor?" But she sounded intrigued.
Régalien took out the list that had been burning a hole in his pocket for quite a while. It could have been just another piece of folded, notebook paper, if it wasn't for the way he delicately fixed the bent edges.
"Hey, you don't have to sit down," she told him as he maneuvered himself to the floor to be at eye-level, one hand on the chair and the other on the floor. Régalien waved her off and joined her, cross-legged with a foot of space between them.
His injuries were not as severe as Adrien's, but even using his sprained wrist to steady himself ached.
"You're still a kid like me," she told his very stubborn expression. "Come on, I bet that Miraculous probably masks some of the pain, but you don't have to push yourself so hard."
"By sitting down?"
Alya sighed. "You know that's not what I mean. Maybe I don't know you're real name, but that doesn't mean I want you to hurt yourself just for the Hell of it. We're kinda like friends now."
Friends. How he had the luck to be friends with her not once, but twice, he would never know.
Régalien eventually said, once that spark of warmth died down enough for him to speak, "I'll make sure to take it easy when I can."
Alya beamed like a schoolteacher, and he half-expected to receive a gold star for his efforts.
Duusu reminded him that he still had more to ask Alya. As much as Régalien didn't want her involved in Hawkmoth's latest scheme, they couldn't do this without her.
And he would protect her if Hawkmoth so much as sneezed in her direction.
Régalien unfolded the list and straightened it out on the floor between them. The pen had smudged in a corner in his mad dash to write it late at night, and under the light of the bedroom he noticed his writing was a bit messy. Hopefully it made his handwriting foreign enough for Alya.
Her eyes instantly went down the list. Those entries he knew as well as his own, either as akumas or people, cascaded down, line after line. Alya's stare lingered on his name on the top of the list. Régalien could kick himself for being such a dumb ass about it. The Bubbler— what a horrible name, really— hadn't been the first akuma or her first article on the Ladyblog.
"Ladybug and Chat Noir helped me create the list from what they remembered," he lied, "then we used your awesome blog to fill in as much of the blanks as we could. Lifesaver because, well, I had lived in Nice for the better part of last year."
He'd heard somewhere that repeating little details helped to form a convincing lie. Or something like that.
With each entry, her eyebrows lowered until she was squinting in deep thought. Alya's hand hovered over the list. When Régalien nodded, she delicately picked it up to read it properly.
"Back at the mayor's conference, we said we were working on a way to regain the Cure's power. Well, this is it." Alya finished reading and glanced up for him to elaborate. "The Cure is protecting past akuma victims by leaving a bit of itself in them. Kinda like a virus protection program."
"So that leaves Ladybug with less Cure to work with." Alya placed the list back between them. The blank spaces in the columns were glaringly obvious now. Even with the addition of Croquis, the list was far from complete.
Régalien shifted because his back and wrist were aching again. He didn't miss Alya's sharp eye on him. So he elaborated, "The Cure protects civilians first and foremost. Which leaves us heroes without much luck."
"Okay, let me guess: you guys are going to each past victim and doing something to get that piece of the Cure back?"
"We're trying, but we're missing a lot of information for some people, so we can't find them."
"You can't sense them with your powers?" The fervent gleam in her eye appeared. "Cause you can sense akumas, right? You're either always the first one there or Ladybug or Chat Noir get there just as quickly. The response time has been a lot better since you joined."
Régalien raised his eyebrows, impressed. "I can sense an akuma, but with these people," he waved a hand at the list, "there's just not enough of Hawkmoth's magic to actually find them, and just going to the news and asking, hey, if you were the akuma with the tentacles, please stand up is going to cause some problems."
Alya hummed in thought. "Especially with how ravenous the news seems to be about getting new information."
"Your Ladyblog was an awesome source, by the way, which is why we asked you to make those articles private. But you probably have more information on each akuma attack, right? I mean, you hide in alleyways and climb fire escapes to get the scoop." Régalien coughed at her raised eyebrow. "I mean, that's what I've heard from Ladybug. She's seen you everywhere."
Alya puffed up her chest proudly. "I may not have a degree in journalism yet, but I don't need one. I just follow my gut."
Régalien just hoped that gut didn't lead to him. Considering he was head over heels for his girl, he thought he was doing a pretty good job at keeping his identity on the down low.
"So do you have information that could help us fill in these blanks?"
Alya stood up and maneuvered around him to open a drawer at her desk. "Definitely. I know that pretty much nobody wants their worst moment of their life broadcasted, so on the Ladyblog, I try to only give the basics and focus on Ladybug and Chat Noir, the lucky charm, the akuma's powers, and all that fun stuff."
She took out a binder thick with loose leaf papers and sticky notes holding on by their last remnants of stickyness. Régalien moved to take it, but she shuffled past him and let it drop at his feet with a tremendous thunk that caused his tail feathers to briefly flare in shock.
Alya opened her binder to an organized chaos of papers. There was an index at the beginning with scratched-out titles and scribbled notes. Régalien leaned in as Alya flipped to a particular section of her research binder. Pictures of Ladybug and Chat Noir flashed by. Sketches of battlefields before the Cure fixed everything were slipped into plastic sleeves. He caught a stray sticky note that flew out in the harried search. It simply said "floating rabbits of doom".
He'd… never seen this. Maybe a draft here and there, but all of this? It was so Alya that Régalien wondered why such a big part of her never crossed his radar. (She could sketch so well, too. How was she so talented?)
Then again, there were entire tracks on his computer that Alya had never heard, pieces of songs scattered across his desktop that have seen the light of day.
Would she like to hear them, once this whole thing settled down?
Your eye to detail is amazing, Régalien wanted to praise, but the fear of it being too close to flirting territory made him only hum appreciatively.
Alya sat back on her heels. Her hair escaped its late night ponytail, and her glasses were sliding off the bridge of her nose. She tilted the binder so his view was obscured. "You gotta promise me that this information is only to be used to help you fight against Hawkmoth. I don't even show this to my family or friends because, well, it's private. I already feel bad having so much information on people I've never met."
Régalien held up two fingers as a show of promise. "No problem here. I keep secrets like no one's business."
He was also someone on the list. He could barely handle media coverage as Régalien. Nino Lahiffe didn't need it, too.
"Right, well, just remember it's been less than two weeks. Secrets slip if you're not careful."
He took the list, and Alya straightened her binder of research. "Okay," she said, and her loose hair went back to its ponytail, "who do we need to investigate first?"
They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, and began to fill in the blanks in their strategy against Hawkmoth.
Adulting sucks. I also saw No Way Home, and my mind and heart have been consumed by it. I'm still not emotionally over it.
Here's more Alya getting involved in the Team Miraculous plan. Which is great because Nino and Duusu are not on good terms right now.
As always, feel free to comment! I always love to hear your thoughts! We are officially in the second half of the fic. Shit's about to go down as our heroes continue with their plan.