To Stand Among Ruins

by Windcage

To say the Agreste family lies in ruins is nothing short of an understatement, Gabriel's grief having anchored him so deep to the past and the wife he lost, he is unable to face the present and a son who needs him - who hasn't given up on him. Will they remember to walk in the same direction and not leave each other behind?

9. The Painted Lady - Part 6

The Painted Lady

(part 6)

Nathalie

"What is it like?" Nathalie had once queried, the words slipping the shackles of her control as she closed the atelier's door and turned to find not Gabriel, but Hawkmoth looking over the dark water of the reservoir back home, the dull gleam to his eyes making him look as distant as all those times she would see him return from the Observatory, as defeated as if the woman he fought for was not on the chateau on the upper level of the garden, sick but awake, laughing alongside Adrien and the music flowing out of her bedroom window.

"What is it like?" Nathalie remembered asking, her voice so quiet it didn't find an echo on the Observatory's dome, that the sound of the slowly moving circle of butterflies was enough to drown her words, that she was surprised Gabriel had heard her at all and that he turned, the silver mask that covered his face doing nothing to hide his exhaustion as his eyes lingered on her face.

"You don't care about that," Hawkmoth had noted and at that he had pulled the Miraculous away from his purple shirt, he pulled it until it came off, he pulled it until this light washed over the Observatory and it was Gabriel, not Hawkmoth, who there stood there with her. "You don't care about these."

"No," Nathalie had agreed, attention never leaving the grayish-blue eyes that were looking at the Miraculous, that glared at it like they wished for nothing more than the strength to flung it against the metal wall. "I don't."

But still she hadn't moved, still she remained with him, still she reached out again.

"What is it like?"

The butterfly that had been on Gabriel's shoulder took flight, it rose up and up the Observatory's dome and then it fell, down and down until it landed on her hand and the familiar weightless sensation seemed to reach out through time itself to the place, in the present, where the Painted Lady stood, where she opened her eyes to find a small white butterfly had just landed on her fingers and that her quiet question from all those months ago was again on her lips.

"What is it like?"

The butterfly looked back at her with curiosity, pale grey eyes sprinkled with blue locking with hers, their coloring looking so much like that of the man The Painted Lady could still see in her mind, that a sad smile touched her lips.

Just like the silent butterfly now resting on her gloved fingers, Gabriel hadn't answered, not the first time back in the Loire, not the second already in Paris, and Nathalie had never worked up the courage to put her concern into words one more time, she had never found the right moment or the right place, and it wasn't until now, while cold air hit her face and a sea of black-tiled rooftops stretched around her, until the Miraculous that had been on Gabriel's chest pulsed against hers, that Nathalie finally understood why he had never spoken, why he couldn't, why he kept his silence every time least he was forced to answer her concern with a lie—or worse yet, with the truth.

The Miraculous—

The butterfly that was resting on Nathalie's fingers took flight before she could finish that thought, it flew so fast to her left it looked like it was warning her and without a second thought Nathalie turned to the part of the city that spread to her side, attention running over the terraces and rooftops, her eyebrows almost immediately drawing together with worry.

A black arrow was going by one of the many patches of reality that sprinkled the Collector's drawing, the transformed people that walked the streets, making the charcoal lines advance, were being blasted up into the air as it went by, as it aimed straight at this group of drawn rooftops from where Ladybug had just escaped—from where the Collector had just jumped into the lines to pursue her.

"Chat Noir is heading your way," the Painted Lady warned, the drawings of kitchens and living rooms and corridors filling her mind as the Collector run down them. "He took his time."

Turning to his left, the walls falling to his passage leading him straight into this old-fashioned living, the Collector scoffed.

"Good," he snapped, anger burning through the connection, his eyes so firmly set on Ladybug as she swung by the elegant row of windows to his left that the girl and her red suit were all Nathalie's mind could see. "We can get this over with now that her pet is here!"

The Collector ripped straight through the lines that made the closest window, his appearance so sudden Ladybug barely had time to look his way, to make head or tails of where he had come from before, before she pulled the yo-yo, releasing it from the chimney it had been wrapped around and risked the void under her.

Maybe it was luck, maybe not, but she did so just as Chat Noir appeared on the street and immediately catapulted himself upwards with his staff. Catching her mid fall, reaching her just before the Collector did, Chat Noir landed on a nearby terrace, the Collector so close behind that, Ladybug still on his arms, Chat Noir had not choice but to keep running while carrying her, an absolutely disbelieving look being thrown at the Collector every time Chat Noir glanced over his shoulder.

"What happened?!" he cried out, feet going over the old and very dirty slabs on the terrace as he run. "Why are his eyes like that?!"

"That's my fault!" Ladybug straight up said, her admission perplexing Chat Noir so much he actually stopped looking back.

"How is that your fault?!" he exclaimed.

Anger flared through the Miraculous on Nathalie's chest, a sizzling hot rod seeming to have been driven straight into her brain as she frowned at Ladybug from two angles: the one offered to her mind by the Collector's eyes — the one where she could only see Ladybug's legs, dangling over Chat Noir's left arm — and the one given to her by her vantage point over the rooftops, one that was so close to the ongoing pursuit, she could see the way Ladybug had just clenched her fingers around her yo-yo.

"I got too confident when I should have kept my mouth shut!" Ladybug snapped. "It wasn't as if I didn't know this could happen!"

Chat Noir's emotions as just went from confused to alert.

"You have seen this before?!"

"Evillustrator!"

Chat Noir had just reached the edge of the building, he had jumped into the vacuum and by doing so he seemed to have given Ladybug the chance to use her yo-yo again. She aimed it down, towards one of the last real trees in the park that had opened in front of them, and, if just a moment ago Chat Noir had been the one carrying her, now it was her that carried him, the wide swing of the cable taking them away from the rooftops, from the Collector, just as he came to a stop on the terrace and reached out through the connection, eyes trailing the fleeing teenagers.

"Which one?" he asked Nathalie.

The Painted Lady tilted her head, her fingers very softly pinching her leg through the dark stockings she was wearing, trying to use the feeling to see passed the Collector's own emotions, passed the emotions of an entire city, that phrase Chat Noir's appearance had not allowed her to finish now back on her mind.

The Miraculous—Yes, there was no doubt, it was overwhelming. And through storm of emotions, through the images blasting inside her mind, through that part of herself that tried to find some way to stop this, Nathalie might have just reached the same conclusion Gabriel had made his peace with months ago. In the midst of all of this, it was easier to talk than to think—to talk was the only way she could think.

"Chat Noir feels unhinged," Nathalie therefore mused, fingers pressed around the cane, her attention glued to Chat Noir's back as both him and Ladybug dropped and rolled as they landed on the real part of Place des Vosges. "Something has disturbed him, his emotions are everywhere, if anyone is going to make a mistake, it's him."

The Collector snapped his sketchbook open with her words.

"Keep an eye on the drawing," he spoke.

Nathalie closed her eyes, forcing herself to step away from the connection and to look around like he instructed, to survey the lines that were creeping up the buildings, that consumed each door and window, each tile and chimney. It took her no more than a few seconds to go back to the Collector and yet in the half a minute she had been distracted, he had managed to get the upper hand. In fact, Ladybug had just tossed her yo-yo upwards and Chat Noir was jumping to follow her, his extending staff catapulting him out of the park, up and up and towards the top of the palace-like buildings around Place des Vosges.

Standing beneath them, the trees around him being swallowed back into the lines under his feet, Collector looked up. A flick from his sketchbook and the entire park moved, it twisted, the lines bursting up like a thousand outstretched hands, rushing to catch up to Ladybug and Chat Noir and flying passed them as they did, curving, diving back to attack them, to lock them inside.

A feeling of triumph had just blasted through the Collector's mind, one so strong Nathalie actually pulled herself out of the connection to look at the black structure rising out of the park, the one the Collector had imprisoned Ladybug and Chat Noir with.

He actually had—

Only, no.

A red and a black dot had just came blasting out of the Collector's lines, fleeing away from it, and the Collector stepped away from the park, following in their wake. Again, Nathalie forced herself to look around her, the quick clicking of the Painted Lady's low heeled shoes falling quiet as she stood over the city, looking down at the battle, and the very real city it was getting closer and closer to. Immediately, she reached out to the Collector.

"They are trying to lead you towards the edge of the drawing," she warned, the butterfly-shaped light around her eyes drawing the edges of the silver mask as her attention went back to the rooftops around her and the all-consuming lines.

"The lines won't connect fast enough," she continued, the turmoil in her heart, the same that made her fingers close tighter and tighter around the purple cane as she looked at the Collector, invisible under the pondered serenity of her voice. "You must fall back."

The same butterfly-shaped light that was around her eyes also burning around his, the Collector didn't even glance back, he didn't look passed the drawing of the rooftop where he stood, passed the tiles and the chimney to his back, to make sure the boundary between his vision and the city truly was behind him, to make sure he truly hadn't time. No. Teeth clenched, he trusted her.

"Noted."

And the Collector pulled the sketchbook up with that word, he snapped it down just like he would a whip and the black lines that made the drawn rooftop he stood on, responded. They rose, they fell, they sprang up, blasting towards where Ladybug and Chat Noir were charging from the same side, yo-yo and staff ready to push the Collector out of the world he controlled.

It didn't matter, however, if Ladybug and Chat Noir saw what was coming their way — and they did, they very obviously did — they didn't have time to get away. The large ripple hit them at high speed. It sent them flying through the air and back towards Place des Vosges, back towards the center of the drawing.

"I have them."

Both Ladybug and Chat Noir hit a nearby terrace. The girl falling so close to the border, she actually rolled over and ended up hanging over the street. A startled expression going through her expression, Ladybug regained her composure in a pair of seconds and pulled herself back up, running straight for her partner's assistance, reaching him right as he was about to be overwhelmed by the group of drawings that had just jumped out of the lines.

Seeing the drawings, for the first time, unable to watch the battle through her own eyes, Nathalie looked back, towards the sea of rooftops behind her, her attention surveying the lines devouring them, reaching out for each other, closing the final gap between this side of the city and Place des Vosges.

"It's finished," she announced, the connection opening wide. "The drawing—"

Nathalie reached out to grab the metal ladder on the chimney to her left that same moment, her fingers closing around one of the steps.

The images inside her mind were fading in and out, the buildings swaying, spinning, falling into the trees and bushes and into each other until she couldn't make anything apart. Using the metal ladder as an anchor, Nathalie dived straight into the connection, a rush of panic that didn't belong to her joining the one in her chest.

Gabriel, what—?

She understood right then. Seeing the Collector's gloved hand come into view, seeing it rush to press his head. She understood. And she was turning the same instant, her mind split in two, seeing both the garden beyond and bellow the rooftops where she stood, the naked trees and charcoal drawings that were in front of her, and the terrace where the Collector stood, left hand pressed to his head.

"Hold on," Nathalie told him, moving down the roofs, her face growing pale when the Collector tossed himself forth again and for a moment Chat Noir came into view.

Just hold on!

Adrien

Something was wrong, Adrien remembered thinking, the hand the Collector had just closed over his belt forcing Ladybug to come to his aid least he swiped inside a sketchbook.

Something was wrong, his mind kept insisting even as he ran on all fours and rolled, jumping to grab the staff the Collector had kicked out of his hand, that he had sent flying halfway across the terrace were they stood.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

The phrase was like a bell in his mind. One that kept tolling and tolling each time a grimace went through the Collector's face, every time he seemed to stagger, every time he stumbled and stopped and forced himself to face them again.

Something was wrong, Adrien even now thought, his stomach twisting itself in knots, his staff not so much hitting as blowing away a mass of drawings that had just jumped out of the lines around his feet, that didn't seem to be engaged in turning the city into art anymore, his eyes never leaving the grayish-white face that was his father's.

He seemed to be in pain.

He really really did.

But before Adrien could be sure, before he could be certain that grimace was more than just anger, Ladybug had grabbed his wrist, practically dragging him away from the battle, making him run passed the drawings and the vases and the lonely AC unit on the top of the building, each step taking them closer and closer to the void beyond the building.

"There are too many of them!" she cried out, when Adrien kept looking back. "Come on!"

Place des Vosges opened in front of them, looking exactly like a half-finished drawing on a canvas. Their feet hitting the edge of the building, the two of them jumped. A glance behind them, however, was enough to show them the people-like drawings were jumping into the lines that made the building they had just abandoned. They were following them. Cascading down the building's drawn facade, rushing across the black and white street and cars right beneath Adrien's feet, going over cars and under the grates surrounding Place des Vosges.

"Heads up, Milady!" Adrien shouted at Ladybug, a glance down showing her swinging the yo-yo to get down to the park, aiming it as far away as she could from the drawing they were trying to flee. "The drawings are closing in on us!"

And so was the Collector. The two of them just had to look down to see his shadow on the road beneath them and know he was coming straight for them — or so Adrien thought, for rather than attack them, the Collector dived straight down, one of his legs crashing into the staff Adrien had just sent towards the ground.

Oh no!

The staff wobbled under him, it slipped on the road, before Adrien could do anything he was falling, the Collector sending him crashing straight into the black and white side of the park, into the drawing he controlled.

No!

Adrien hit the white floor with a pained groan. Turning over himself, going to lie belly up over the drawn lines, he was on time to see Ladybug make this large swerve over the green trees to the back, her feet grazing the naked tree branches.

Releasing her yo-yo, pulling it back to her, Ladybug landed over a patch of what once had been green grass some meters to Adrien's left. And she did so just as the Collector himself landed on top of the fountain. A flick of his sketchbook and the structure turned into a spiral staircase, which he started going down of, red eyes always focused on them, teeth clenched.

The weight was back to Adrien's stomach.

That expression—It wasn't anger. It wasn't even pain. It was agony. And it took over the Collector's eyes just as he stepped down his imagined stairway, the dancer-like movements that made him as slippery as oil coming to an abrupt end.

F-Father?

The Collector swayed, the sketchbook slipped from his fingers and the same moment it hit the ground, the stairs he had been standing on disappeared, the drawings that had been rising out of the lines around it retreated—and the Collector fell, crashing to the gravel around the rapidly redrawing fountain, curled over himself, hands pressed to his head.

Father!

This was what it must have been like for Ladybug when Hawkmoth had engaged them that night in the rooftops. That moment when she had come to Adrien's aid, that moment she had tossed the yo-yo and heard Hawkmoth's wrist break, that moment when she had frozen, not believing what she had done, this was what that must have felt like, for even though Chat Noir was still moving, even if he was running, feet sinking into the black and white grass, cold air hitting his face, he was no longer thinking. He had forgotten about everything. Right now, he just meant to get where the Collector was, curling over himself in agony. He didn't care if he wasn't fully his father, he just meant to be with him. He just wanted to understand what was wrong.

And he would never get a chance to do that.

A tiny speak, one so impossibly white it looked like it was made of light itself, had just flown over Adrien's left shoulder. Then another crossed his path, coming from the still green trees and bushes to his left. And then another and another. Adrien stopped so abruptly he slipped, crashing back first into the flowerbed he was running across. The dark sky was in front of him now and, his eyes wide with disbelief, Adrien watched as dozen of small white specks flew over him.

It reminded him of something this.

An abandoned house.

Boarded up windows, peeled walls and rotting wood.

And standing among all of that a masked man, a grin twisting his features.

Adrien catapulted himself back to his feet so fast he could feel some of the butterflies hitting his face; that he rose his staff, preparing himself from an attack, before he took a glimpse at what he was truly facing and actually stepped back.

There were dozen of butterflies flying towards the fountain near which the Collector stood, there were hundreds coming in a wave over the buildings surrounding the park and from inside the alleys and taking flight from the trees. But that wasn't what made Adrien gape. No. The butterflies, all the butterflies, were joining to form a swarm right over the fountain, they were flying so tightly around each other Adrien couldn't tell them apart, that they formed a tornado. A gigantic tornado. And the instant the tornado hit the ground, swallowing the fountain, swallowing the Collector, something else did too. Something that could be glimpsed through the swirling mass of butterflies. A person. A person downing a silver mask. A person with glacier blue eyes.

"Milady, he is—!"

Ladybug didn't need him shouting. She might be standing a few meters to his left, this row of bushes near her legs, but she had seen Hawkmoth as clearly as he had, and she was moving already.

Running down the garden path to the left, twirling her yo-yo, she tossed it right towards the swirling mass of butterflies, right at the figure they could glimpse standing in the center of it, the heavy end of her weapon striking once, twice, thrice—

Adrien stopped counting, his own staff being extended and brandished against the butterflies flying around Hawkmoth. He expected it to cut right through them and reach him, but the staff crashed against the tornado instead. Like it was a brick wall. And it didn't matter how much strength he put behind each strike. It didn't push through! It didn't!

"Chat! Hawkmoth is using the butterflies as a shield!" Ladybug shouted, and Adrien sure as rain could see that! "When he moves them to the front, his back—Chat!"

Adrien was not listening. He should be listening, he knew that, there was a really good reason for Ladybug to be the one doing the thinking here, she was the one with the cool head, but right now he simply didn't care. All Adrien could see was the Collector's silhouette, this dark patch just between the dark shadow that was Hawkmoth and the fountain. He had to get to him. He had to help. He had to move Hawkmoth out of the way if it was the last thing he did and—!

It felt like the person behind the blue eyes Adrien could glimpse from time to time had read his thoughts. Meeting Chat Noir's green gaze head on, Hawkmoth seemed to be daring him to try to reach him, to try to get to the Collector. He seemed to think Chat Noir wouldn't take the challenge head-on. Or maybe he did know he would, maybe he knew exactly what Adrien was about to do for right when Chat Noir jumped forward, staff ready to strike, Ladybug shouting at him to stop, Hawkmoth made his move.

Adrien wouldn't lie. What he expected out of this confrontation was for Hawkmoth to step out from behind his butterflies, to jump away from hiding, sword in hand. To attack. Just like what had happened not that long ago, in that derelict house.

What neither him nor Ladybug were expecting was what happened next.

The flapping of the butterflies' wings became louder. The top half of Hawkmoth's tornado broke away. And there, against the dark night sky, moving to smite them like judgment day itself, was this giant white mass. It dived down forcing Chat Noir and Ladybug to jump out of the way, to roll for safety, to get to their feet in time to see the butterflies break into smaller groups and aim straight to attack them.

"You can't tell me this is normal!" Adrien shouted, getting back to back with Ladybug, staff twirling in front of him. "These are not normal butterflies!"

"I can see that!" Ladybug snapped, her yo-yo being used as a shield, swirling in front of her.

The two of them were dancing around each other now, blocking the blows falling on them like the forger's hammer on particularly stubborn steel.

"If I didn't know better I would swear this isn't him!" Ladybug hissed, this swift fluid movement actually allowing her to divert the butterflies, to start aiming her yo-yo at the tornado and Hawkmoth's shadow before another blow from the butterflies forced her to defend herself again. "This isn't remotely the way he fought—!"

Ladybug clenched her teeth, a new group of butterflies launching themselves at them seeing her jump to roll over Adrien's back and fall on the other side, this up-down strike she aimed at the white mass flying by them, actually managing to break the group apart. The butterflies scattered like petals, fleeing in all directions. Ladybug had found them an opening. There was an opening! And on the other side—

Adrien closed his hands firmly around the staff, eyes on the blue-eyed shadow beyond the swirling tornado.

"No, Chat! Don't!"

If only he was in any other state of mind, if only he had listened! But he didn't. And so instead of sticking with Ladybug, instead of playing at the defense, Adrien jumped forth, he took advantage of the opening, he launched himself to get to Hawkmoth—

"Chat!"

—and played right into his hand. For this wasn't an opening at all. The very moment he and Ladybug became separated the shadow in the center of the tornado made a swiping movement with its hand and the butterflies fell on them, not so much striking like they had done before but flying by. There must be millions of them here now. At least, that was what this felt like. And Adrien could feel himself being dragged by them, he could feel himself being lifted off his feet and then—then, he completely took flight. He was being tossed back and forth, caught in what felt like a giant shaker, and he could feel himself crash against branches, go through bushes, pain making a sharp exhale go through his lips when he hit what seemed to be a tree trunk and a sudden clarity made him force the staff to enlarge, sticking it between the tree he had just hit and something equally resilient that was somewhere to the right.

There were butterflies crashing against him now, so many, Adrien had to close his eyes. And then, just like that, gravity took hold of him again. He fell to the floor. Opening his eyes, finding this line of green bushes in front of him, blocking his view, Adrien got to his feet and jumped over it.

The butterflies had dragged him out of the drawing and into the still real part of the park, there were living trees and rich textures and colorful flowers around him, but—but he was alone.

"Ladybug?"

Adrien's feet hit the green grass on the other side, crushing it as he ran, panic taking hold of him when he finally reached the drawing, stepped inside of it, and found the area around the fountain empty.

"Ladybug?" Adrien cried out, looking around the trees and bushes and park benches for a glimpse of her bright red suit. "Ladybug!"

Rustling came from the group of trees in the middle of the flowerbed to Adrien's left. The sound of tree branches snapping against each other and breaking making him look to catch this glimpse of red. A muffled "Here" later and Ladybug was jumping out of one of the trees, her hair filled with small drawn twigs and leaves and what had once been dry moss. She was here, feet hitting the black and white grass, trying to get a drawn twig or another from her clothes, struggling to get her yo-yo to untangle from the tree. But Father, the Collector, he—

Adrien looked around, frantic, attention going over the fountain and the gravel paths and the trees and everything, be it drawing or real, that was around him.

The Collector was nowhere to be found. He was gone. Hawkmoth had taken him. And looking up to the sky over the drawn buildings around Place des Vosges, searching the night, Adrien clenched his teeth at this large white spot on the sky.

The butterflies.

He could see them. They looked like a white cloud against the dark sky, a cloud that was being carried by wind, but it was definitely them. They were fleeing. With Hawkmoth. With Father. And they were fast. They were damn fast, rooftop after rooftop was falling behind them like it was nothing, but Chat Noir was fast too. He could catch them. He sure as hell could catch them. And the moment he thought that, Adrien was moving. His staff hit the floor, catapulting him up into the sky, up over the garden's fountain and the treetops, aiming for the roofs of the buildings around the garden, attention never leaving the distant cloud of butterflies.

If he could just get to them! If he could just—!

The sound of Ladybug's yo-yo unwinding broke through Adrien's thoughts, the feeling of something wrapping around his left ankle registering in his mind before he felt this pull, this strong, determined pull and the buildings surrounded Place des Vosges started going not down but up, naked tree branches coming back in view, the top of the fountain going by him, tree trunks giving way to shrubs.

Adrien hit the floor a second later, air being knocked out of his lungs. A moment of giddiness, of seeing great white lights on his vision, and he pulled himself to sit, looking up in time to see Ladybug crouch at his side, eyes gleaming with anger.

"We need a plan!" she snapped, hands closing over both sides of Chat Noir's masked face, forcing his attention away from the fleeing butterflies and back to her. "I need your help! Stop being reckless!"

Nathalie

The Collector's right shoulder hit the grayish wall to back of an alley, his shallow breathing echoing up the small deserted space. Hissing, shuddering, he clung to Nathalie even as his failing strength dragged the two of them down and they sank to their knees, falling amid the dumpsters and filth and discarded cans surrounding them.

"I don't have time for this!"

The Collector's right fist cut through the air with his outburst, hitting the grayish slabs at his side before Nathalie could make a single gesture to stop him. The pain he had aimed to use to get his mind back under control, however, to get himself back to his feet, accomplished nothing. His left arm over Nathalie's shoulders, head pressed to one hand, the Collector was still here. Still kneeling. Still struggling. Still furious.

"Get up!" he snapped at himself, white hair falling over his fingers, nails sinking into the skin of his forehead. "GET BACK UP!"

If anything, he tried, over and over again. He struggled to the point he actually managed to start raising, fingers sinking into Nathalie's shoulder, expression distorted by pain. It lasted a moment. No more than a few seconds. Then strength failed him and he crashed back down, collapsing to his knees, fist again aimed to hit the ground, where he would have sank it, again, if Nathalie hadn't managed to stop him.

"You have to calm down," she whispered, both the sword that was the Painted Lady's weapon and the sketchbook that was the Collector's being dropped at her side so she could cup the grayish-white face, fingers combing through the short locks of black and white hair. "Please, calm—"

"Chat!"

Nathalie's fingers pressed into the Collector's face. Her attention going from him to the opposite end of the alley, she pulled the Collector back to his feet, helping him walk to a nearby green dumpster, behind which she helped him sit, behind which they both hid, the Collector with his back against the building's wall, Nathalie herself crouched at his side and facing the alley's entrance, left hand closed over the top rapier's handle, the blade slowly sliding out of its sheath.

The alley was narrow. A long dark corridor flanked by several-floor-high walls of what were mostly grayish-white slabs—or at least had been. Closest to the alley's entrance, beyond the green dumpsters that were carefully lined up against the wall and the bag someone had tossed in there and that laid right in the middle of the path, spilling garbage everywhere, the stone slabs turned into a drawing. That very drawing framed the trees of Place des Vosges, and what at this point looked like an unfinished painting: colorful trees and cars and buildings mixed with sharp charcoal lines, color and movement stopping to give way to black and white spaces, reality being consumed by art.

As mesmerizing as that sight was, it wasn't what had captured Nathalie's attention. There, beyond the line of green dumpsters and the discarded garbage bag, beyond the cans and filth spilling from it, just now stepping into the blade of light that dived inside the alley, was a figure, the tall, lean figure of a boy, his shadow getting bigger and bigger as he went to stand at the entrance. Recognizing him, seeing the Collector take his sketchbook from her hands, eyes flaming red, Nathalie turned back to him, hand closing over his.

"Chat, what are you doing?!"

Ladybug's voice broke inside the alley once again. Her clear, sharp words forcing the Nathalie to lock her eyes with the Collector and shake her head when the angry red ones met hers. A peek outside, beyond Chat Noir's lean figure, and Nathalie returned her hand to the rapier.

Ladybug was even now standing on the other side of the road, right behind an entirely charcoal car and with the high grates surrounding Place des Vosges behind her.

"Chat!" she called out again.

A quick glance behind him, at her, and Chat Noir stepped inside the alley.

"I think I heard voices!" he shouted back, footsteps echoing up the walls. In what seemed to have been just a moment he was standing so close to Nathalie and the Collector, Nathalie only had to glance to the side to see the tip of Chat Noir's black boots. "I'm just going to investigate!"

Ladybug's answer bristled with impatience.

"We don't have time for that! I need your help!" she said. "Come on!"

A second of hesitation, of standing right in the middle of the alley, looking around, and Chat Noir twirled his staff, stepped back, and ran all the way back into the street, back to his ally.

Watching him retreat, Nathalie dropped the cane to her side and swallowed. This was as much of a close call as she needed. And so, before the Collector had a chance to say a word to the contrary, she put his arm back around her shoulders and jumped, catapulting the two of them upwards and to the rooftops where they landed.

Now spreading in front of them, the drawing that was Place des Vosges did not gather as much of Nathalie's attention as the two teenagers running through it and this distant white speck on the sky, looking like a cloud, that was moving away.

The butterflies.

Pinching her lips, Nathalie looked back passed the drawn trees and paths of Place des Vosges, back to Ladybug and Chat Noir, the fading hope she would see them chase the group all but dying when she found them instead giving chase to the remaining transformed people, the drawings, that now rested immobile on Place des Vosges.

They hadn't fallen for it.

She had been sure that at least Chat Noir would, but no. He was still here and judging by the way he was chasing the drawings, leading them inside this kind of lasso Ladybug had built with the charcoal lines that had fallen over the real side of the park, Ladybug's present plan—

"Did you get the diary?"

Nathalie took her attention away from the way Ladybug was trying to hoist the drawings inside her lasso so that they would be hanging from one of the real trees, and looked to her side, back to the man still leaning against her for support. Worry flashed through her masked faced when she found him with his head hanging low, short puffs of air crossing a line of thin white lips.

"I couldn't find it," Nathalie informed, trying to lower the Collector to sit on the roof's black tiles. "It wasn't anywhere in Marinette's bedroom. It is possible she hid it considering her friends were there—"

The Collector didn't allow for Nathalie to finish. His arm had fallen away from her shoulders, he was straightening, stepping away from her—and immediately he stammered. He might have fallen, he would have fallen, if Nathalie hadn't reached to grab him that same instant.

"You are getting worse," she noted, looking over his face and then back, over the city, towards La Tour Eiffel and the neighborhoods around it. "We have to go back."

The Collector slipped from her grasp. Again. He moved away from her with such swiftness it felt like he was made of water. He hadn't even taken a step, however, before he was forced to stop, to sit on the black tiles at her side and curl over himself, head pressed between his hands.

"Get up," the Collector still whispered, trying to fight through the pain. "Get up."

Nathalie's fingers fell away just short of touching the Collector's shoulder. For a moment, she stood at his side, hand still outstretched, watching his shoulders rise and fall, watching him struggle to get back to his feet.

She wouldn't have needed a Miraculous to know how he felt right now, but maybe she did need one, to say what she said next.

"This is not about the Miraculous, is it?" Nathalie whispered, softly, gently, and much in the same way she had done just a day ago, a glance to her right allowing her to look around, towards Place des Vosges, towards the lines that had stopped short of engulfing the roof where they stood. "None of this is."

Head still on his hands, the Collector scoffed, angrily:

"What else would this be about?!"

"You hurting Adrien," Nathalie said, bright blue eyes returning to him. "Punishing yourself."

The Butterfly Miraculous shivered against her chest, it pulsed, it gave her all the answer she needed.

"It is about that," Nathalie whispered. "And Robostus?"

The Collector's only response was to close his eyes. Hidden behind the Butterfly's silver mask, her eyes searching what little she could see of his face, Nathalie found her mind traveling all the way back to her room, to sitting with Gabriel as he laid on her bed, exhausted and looking away with this very same expression. This very same pain.

"You are not the same as last time, are you?" Nathalie put forth, gently. "You didn't rise from betrayal."

Blood red eyes met hers.

"Does that matter?" he snapped.

Perhaps not. But looking at the sketchbook resting over the black tiles just to the side of her feet, remembering the way it hadn't, not once, been used against her, maybe, just maybe, it made all the difference in the world.

"He wanted me to tell you he is fine," Nathalie said, her expression softening when a flicker of gray dulled the red gleam of the eyes she was facing. "Adrien. This morning at school, he didn't let me leave until I promised I would tell you not to worry. That what happened to him wasn't your fault."

The part of Gabriel was with her, sitting, fingers reaching back for his head, allowed a chuckle to leave his lips.

"Do you doubt he meant it?" Nathalie asked.

"No. But Adrien—" The Collector closed his eyes, voice shivering, the words seeming to become stuck in his throat. "Adrien knows precious little."

"Isn't what he knows enough?"

For how softly Nathalie had spoken, her words seemed to hit the Collector like a punch.

"Adrien was never meant to know," he hissed, fingers pressed deep into his scalp. "If, for once, I could get something right, that book would have been translated and this would have been fast and clean and over and he wouldn't have to find out about anything!"

Wind hissed over the roof, the strong blast grabbing hold of a butterfly that had just landed on the Collector's shoulder and pulling it away. Wings flapping desperately, it managed to grab hold of the Painted Lady's purple dress, of safety, just as she wrapped her hands around each other.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said.

"Then what did you mean?!" the Collector snapped, and this time he looked up, this time he looked right at her. "That Adrien saw Emilie walk out the door and she never returned?! That he is going to wake up each morning and she won't be there?!"

Nathalie's expression saddened. A step taking her closer the Collector, she dropped to her knees at his side.

"Adrien," she told him. "Knows that he is coming back home tomorrow, after his classes and his photo session, and that youwill be there, just like you always were."

The Collector's eyes widened, something of gray shivering in his eyes as he turned to face her and Nathalie found her gaze drop to the cane lying on her lap, the way her eyes fingers pressed around it, even the way the Collector was now looking at her, all fading, all disappearing to the far too vivid a memory of Adrien kicking the door to Gabriel's bedroom open, to him running down the stairs, to the feeling of his arms locking desperately around her.

"What am I to tell him if you aren't?" Nathalie went on to ask, a step away from Adrien leaving him still here, still with her, a question spoken in scared whisper being directed at her.

"Where is Mom?"

Nathalie's hands closed around the cane.

"What am I suppose to tell him this time?"

A shivering breath going through her lips, she looked back up, facing the entirely gray eyes that had never left hers.

"Ask of me anything," she told the Collector. "Anything. I will be right at your side."

Her fingers brushed against the Miraculous, closed around it, feeling it pulsing softly before she pulled the stone from her chest.

"But this," she whispered and light washed over her, the kwami appearing at her side letting out a small gasp when Nathalie reached for The Collector's hand and brought it up, returning the Miraculous he had given her to his hand. "I can't help you with this."

The Collector looked down, towards the small stone resting on his open palm, then at her.

"You—" he whispered and he closed his eyes, his hand closing so tight around the Miraculous it looked like he might crush it.

"Please, let's just head back," Nathalie asked him and with that their eyes met. Hers blue and deep and clear. The Collector's red. Anguished. Tormented.

"I'm getting those Miraculous," he told her, voice low, eyes burning, the Miraculous being trusted into her hands once more. "I'm getting out of here with them or not at all."

"M. Agreste—"

"I am not Gabriel Agreste!"

The Collector pulled himself to his feet. Pain flaring through his face, he stepped over the edge of the building, jumping, falling, landing on the sidewalk several meters below. He was moving across the street now, opening his sketchbook, allowing the lines to connect to those of the drawing around him, not caring to look back, to where Nathalie still stood, to where a small mauve kwami hovered at her side.

"She can stop him," Nooroo reminded her, kindly, and Nathalie looked away from the place where the Collector was making his way across the street, and went to face the kwami that was here with her, watching her with sad eyes, watching her like he knew her heart had shattered to pieces. "She is the only one who can."

Nathalie dropped her eyes.

"No," she whispered. "I can't."

And going back to watch the Collector, seeing him walk through the black and white drawing that was Place des Vosges, alone, Nathalie forced her path through the sorrow, she forced herself to ponder, to think, she forced herself to be useful, to close her eyes, to face the Collector has he had been not even a minute ago.

"I am not Gabriel Agreste!" he had snapped.

I am not Gabriel Agreste, Nathalie even now repeated.

He was not Gabriel, but he was someone. There was someone he had never denied being.

"Lady?"

The soft calling broke through her thoughts. Looking to her side, Nathalie faced the large white eyes belonging to the kwami floating at her side.

"M. Agreste told me that the emotions used to fuel the akuma are always connected to a desire. A desire which has been denied and that a person wishes to see fulfilled," she put forth, frowning softly when Nooroo nodded. "What happens if that wish comes true?"

Nooroo tilted his head—

"Closure."

—and blinked at his own answer, something sharp immediately taking hold of his eyes.

"What is she planning to do?" he probed and right then he disappeared, the light that washed over Nathalie leaving only the Painted Lady standing on the rooftops, a lonely butterfly standing on her shoulder, its small black eyes following the man walking through the park, the fragment of the person that was truly its master, and then turning to her, just like it was asking how it could help.

"Find Adrien," Nathalie asked it.

The butterfly took flight from her shoulder and dropped, falling towards the street.

Turning towards La Tour Eiffel and the neighborhoods around it, the Painted Lady gave one last glance behind her and she too disappeared, diving deep into the night.

Adrien

Their first warning had been a ripple going through the drawn buildings beyond the park's trees and grates. The second, an all consuming wave, ripping through the park like a tsunami, trees and buildings and park benches all disappearing to it. And then, the Collector had appeared. Stepping from within the drawing itself, eyes burning like wild fire, the drawing he controlled twisting around him.

To say Adrien was relieved to see him, to have him back here, to know Hawkmoth hadn't done anything else to him, was an understatement—even if what followed probably should make Adrien rethink all of that.

Place des Vosges didn't look anything like itself right now. The buildings, the trees, the cars, everything was gone. The world around them was just random lines going in all directions, there was no reason to them, no thought at all other than the obvious wish to fulfill Hawkmoth's demands and get the Miraculous and just like the first time they had faced the Collector, back at the house, to stop him now wasn't in any way easy.

"We have to get him away from here!" Ladybug shouted while she ran, her feet hitting the black lines that made the floor, the same ones that made the walls. "It's the only way we will stand any chance! We have to get him away from the drawing!"

Running behind her, Adrien grimaced when she looked to the side.

"That's easier said than—!"

The ground under Adrien's feet had just convulsed. Looking down, seeing the formerly straight lines simmer, seeing them crash against each other, Adrien just had time to trade this alarmed glance with Ladybug before the entire black mass dived passed them, before it launched itself in all directions and burst out of the floor, rising up and up until it even covered the sky.

It looked like this forest of twisting thorny ivy was surrounding them now, it was everywhere and so dense they had no chance to move passed it, that they were forced to stop, to stand back to back, Ladybug with her yo-yo swirling at their side, Adrien with the staff raised in front of him. This was bad. But the worse of it, the very worse, wasn't the charcoal lines that looked as sharp as blades, it wasn't that they could burst at them at any second, it was the ivy to Adrien's left had just opened a path and him and Ladybug turned to see a dark figure.

The Collector.

He was here.

And before they could even trade a glance he was on them.

This was a nightmare, Adrien couldn't help but think as he dived to escape the sketchbook and, hitting the ground, was forced to roll to avoid the kick that had been aimed at him.

It was worse than a nightmare, his mind corrected him when Ladybug launched herself to grab the Collector's right forearm and was immediately lunged, like a rag doll, against Adrien.

They were trapped by the vines. There was no way out of here. It was this same scenario time and time again. The only reason why they weren't yet inside a book, why they got a chance and another and another was because—

A moan had just escaped, the Collector's lips. The thorny birdcage around them shivered. Seeing the Collector immediately claw at his head, Adrien disentangled himself from Ladybug, he ran, Ladybug's shout of "Get the book!" echoing behind him as he got closer and closer to the place where the Collector had just fallen to his knees, to where his sketchbook had just hit the floor—

It was already too late. The drawing was breaking apart, it was disappearing, it was crumbling right under Adrien's feet and just like that the three of them, all three of them, were swallowed by the vacuum underneath, the rapidly reorganizing lines that had been around them going back to drawn the buildings and the park and every single little detail on the streetlamps and flowerbeds as him and Ladybug and the Collector crashed through the air, diving straight for the line of parked cars on the street.

"Chat!"

Air hissing at his ears, Adrien turned his head, he did so to find Ladybug falling belly up at his side, to find her already with her yo-yo at the ready and reaching a hand out to him.

"Quick!"

The claws to the tip of Chat Noir's fingers brushed her hand when Adrien reached for Ladybug, they did at least twice, before their hands closed around each other and Ladybug threw her yo-yo towards a building that had just sprouted back into existence right at their side, it's facade rising high over them. Rushing up, the yo-yo wrapped around the drawn chimney, its cable stopping their fall so abruptly it swung them straight into the building's black and white wall.

"Still a nice catch, Milady," Adrien groaned.

On a second, though, he should probably have waited to be on the ground to celebrate. Dangling over the vacuum, this line of draw cars several meters under him, Adrien could feel his hand slip from Ladybug's the very moment he finished speaking. In fact, he just had to look at their hands to see the black fabric around his hand sliding down the red fabric covering Ladybug's arm and in a pair of seconds, he was falling again, Ladybug turning smaller and smaller overhead. And because things weren't bad enough already, the lines that made the building in front of Adrien were starting to move, they were not as much opening as being ripped apart, they were—

You have got to be kidding me!

The Collector had just blasted out of building, he had crashed straight into him, his open sketchbook going by so close to Adrien's head it was sheer dumb luck he didn't end up inside. And now they were falling together! Him and the Collector. They were falling passed window after window, one trying to get to the sketchbook, the other the Miraculous, and if Adrien was to be grateful for something in the midst of this—of this—

He was running out of words with which to describe this!

—was that making the sketchbook grab hold of his drawing of Place des Vosges again, raising the lines so they would form this slope on which to land, the Collector was so close to him, he ended up not only breaking his own fall, but Adrien's as well. And truly, Adrien would be grateful for that, even if he wasn't for anything of what happened next.

They hit the park rolling, both Adrien's staff and the Collector's sketchbook flying out of their hands as they crashed through a path and entered the nearby black and white flowerbed. Getting himself to his hands and knees, this shake being given to his head, Adrien was back on his feet a second later, he was running towards the staff he could see on the path to his left, just beyond the drawn grass that was under him. The thing was that, while his staff was laying there on the ground, the Collector's sketchbook had just flown back to his hand, and looking over his shoulder, Adrien could see the thing being tossed his way, he could see it cut the air over the drawings of flowers and grass just as he vaulted over this shrub that was in front of him. The thing was coming after him! It was flying low, just like it had been aimed for his legs, but it was coming for him all the same! If he didn't get out of the way—!

Adrien gave a last look at the staff as it laid over the drawn gravel, he did—and then he jumped to the side.

The sketchbook cut right through the space where he had been, it flew over the boundary of the flowerbed and into the path, and in so doing the blank pages grazed the staff, they took it right out of existence, just before the sketchbook itself darted back to the Collector's hand and he opened it.

Immediately, the floor where Adrien stood started to move, the black lines blasted up, curving to connect right overhead and, seeing them start to reach for each other, to join to form this kind of horrible sarcophagus around him—actually seeing the shrub he had jumped over to get to the staff twist to form this chain-like thing that rushed to close around the hand that held the Miraculous—Adrien did the only thing he could right now.

He ran.

Black lines blasting around him, already enclosing him in darkness, Adrien ran and aimed for were the Collector stood just some meters away, he aimed straight for the sketchbook he held in front of him and that waterfall of charcoal lines that controlled the world. And fortunately, fortunately, while the Collector was the tallest one here, while he was the strongest, he wasn't the fastest. He was not the fastest. And Adrien would spend the rest of the night thanking the stars for that, for, his teeth clenching into a snarl, seeing Chat Noir rush for him, the Collector had no time to get out of the way, he had no choice but to break the lines that fell from the sketchbook and give up on the ones ready to imprison Chat Noir, he had no choice but to close the sketchbook and toss it away.

Still running, Adrien lowered his head and threw his shoulder against the ones that were straight in front of him. The lines shattered like glass, they fell with him as he rammed straight into his father's chest and both of them hit the garden bench that had been behind the Collector the entire time. That Chat Noir had the upper hand right now, however, meant nothing when the Collector's sketchbook was nowhere near him and so Adrien jumped to his feet, he fled as fast as he could on the opposite direction, he ran and ran and stopped only when he saw green grass under his feet, his mouth so dry he could barely swallow.

That had been—That had been by a hair's breadth and stealing a glance at the Miraculous on his finger, just to be sure it was still there, Adrien forced himself to breathe, he forced himself to turn back, and face the Collector.

Standing not on the real world but on the drawing where the two of them had been fighting, the Collector had just raised his right arm to his side, he had just called his sketchbook back. The thing crashed to his fingers like a bullet, the impact on the bruised wrist seeming to hurt Adrien more than it did the Collector though, for lips curling, he was pointing the sketchbook straight at Adrien.

"At this point, cat," he growled. "It would be wise to give up."

Stealing nervous glances at the Miraculous, opening and closing his hand, Adrien swallowed, he looked up and—

"Excellent point," Chat Noir conceded, a good humored grin immediately filling his face. "You first."

The Collector's eyes turned to slits.

"What?"

A sound like a twig snapping had just risen from somewhere in the park. Feeling his heart all but leap in his chest, lips mouthing "Ladybug," Adrien made this split second gesture to look back, to search for her—and ended up frozen, eyes rushing back to where the Collector stood, sketchbook him hand, eyes ablaze.

Okay, first things first. Don't ever, for even for a second, lose himfrom sight. Second, think like Ladybug. If that sound had been her, if it truly had been her, it hadn't been an accident. And if it hadn't been an accident, she was trying to call his attention. Which meant—

Adrien went to search the buildings behind the Collector, his eyes moving over checkered windows, over this hanging pots someone had on their window sill and that the Collector seemed to have filled with flowers. From there he looked to the rooftops, to the—

Something had just peeked from behind this tall chimney, an unmistakable flash of red in the midst of the black and white drawing. Letting his attention slide away from the spot where Ladybug was even now giving him this sign, Adrien sank the tip of his right foot into the ground, this small mound of pebbles going to rest over his boot as he continued to frown at the rest of the rooftops like he couldn't find anything, then he returned to the Collectorwho was pretty much on the same spot, fingers clawed around the sketchbook, and also searching for Ladybug.

Adrien opened and closed his hands, the absence of the staff heavy on his mind. What had he been telling the Collector a moment ago? Something about—

That was right, giving up!

"You know, it is actually quite the big problem," Adrien confessed with a dejected sigh, and started to raise his fingers as he went through his list. "Video games. Board games. Sports. I never know when to stop."

The Collector's lips twisted, corners pulling downwards.

"Lovely," he snarled still searching for Ladybug on the trees and buildings, the hissed "Where is she?" that followed his words coming at the exact same time Adrien caught a Ladybug silently start to unwind the yo-yo's cable.

"I don't know about lovely," Adrien immediately chuckled, trying to stifle whatever sound she might make. "I usually just end up driving people insane. And, believe it or not, I have someone back home who is even worse!"

The Collector's nostrils flared.

"He must be so unbelievable proud," he jeered and the venom to the words made Adrien's heart stop for a moment, his gaze lingering on the grayish face perhaps for a moment longer than it should.

"I hope so," he heard himself whisper and then he smiled, Ladybug giving him this sign from the rooftops, making Adrien sink his foot deeper into the gravel. "Not going to show me how this giving up thing is done, then? If you are bad at it too, we should just go ahead and practice together."

The Collector's eyes flared, this time he looked straight at him.

"I would rethink this, cat."

No, you wouldn't, Adrien replied and if he had any doubts about it the pain he could see flaring behind the Collector's eyes, the way he stood there facing him regardless, would have wiped his mind of any doubts.

You would never give up.

Ladybug jumping out of hiding right that moment, made Adrien clench his teeth.

And neither will I!

Ladybug's yo-yo came hissing through the park that same instant. A swift move and the Collector had stepped out of his path, opening his sketchbook, ready to swipe the yo-yo inside just like he had done with the staff.

This time around, however, the yo-yo had not been aimed at him. It had never meant to even go near him. Instead, it sank into the ground some meters to Adrien's left just as he kicked the small mound of earth he had built. Dust and pebbles blasted into the air, aimed straight at the Collector, and if something had to go right this did. The Collector had no time to shield his eyes and seeing that, Adrien seized his chance. He jumped forward, again aiming for the book. It should have worked. But the Collector clearly understood what was going on. He had pulled the sketchbook behind his back, he was forcing his eyes to open, and even if looked nothing short of half-blind right now, he somehow seemed to notice Adrien coming right for him and dropped, this low kick being blindly aimed at his legs.

As much as Adrien would love to say the Collector failed — which he did — the movement robbed the legs from under him all the same, sending him crashing to the floor.

The sketchbook was still within reach, however, if he just—

Adrien's attention fell on the hand holding the sketchbook. Even from here, even when his father had been turned into this, it still didn't look good, it was really swollen, it still looked painful, so maybe he could do it, maybe he should take the risk, maybe it was worth it, but if he failed—

The sketchbook come hissing right for his head. It almost hit him when the Collector twisted his hand and the white pages cut the air centimetres to his right. Even half-blind, he was still dangerously accurate. And if Adrien did fail—

Adrien stole a glance to where Ladybug stood, on the drawn rooftop, right next to that tall chimney, waiting for him, and clenched his teeth.

He couldn't leave her to deal with this alone. And—

The Collector again attacked, again came dangerously close of putting him inside the sketchbook, again his bruised right wrist, came into view. If he could hit it, a part of Adrien's mind kept insisted, while the rest of him reeled at the very thought.

I won't hurt you, it said.

I won't hurt you!

Adrien dived away from the Collector, he rolled on the grass and launched himself at the place, Ladybug's yo-yo stood waiting for him. A strong pull later and he was flying away from the park, he was darting towards the drawn rooftops and Ladybug while still looking at where the Collector stood, blinking furiously, trying to get his eyes to work again, the sketchbook Adrien had strive to steal still firmly in his hand.

There had to be a way they could solve this.

There had to be a way!

Nathalie

A tiny white speck was flying over the dark tile roofs of ones of Paris neighborhoods, the flapping of its wings taking it passed chimneys and the odd terrace as it kept a close watch over the maze of streets, what could only be a mounting of frustration making it circle the entire neighborhood three times before it thought it better to turn back.

Now going over the cement handrail of a terrace, its wings opening, the butterfly dived into the street underneath, it flew over the large cooling box of a white truck, then over the line of parked cars in front of it, and then straight to the middle of the street, towards this group of tiny specks, this group of butterflies, that was following the road.

Acknowledging each other, the butterflies entered a dark alley some seconds later, they flew under broken streetlamp after broken streetlamp until they reached the lonely, and flickering, column of light that was to the end of it to join the rest of the butterflies that were already gathering there.

Flying as a group around the light, for the most part ignoring the moths crashing against the glass, the butterflies waited until a shadow appeared over the gap between the two buildings, until it jumped inside the alley where they were and the clicking of heels echoed through the darkness, coming straight in their direction, they waited until a woman, her face hidden by a butterfly-shaped silver masked entered the flickering circle of light with this wooden frame in her right hand and looked straight up.

"You found Adrien?"

The butterflies stopped just as they prepared to join her. The voice that had just flowed out of the purple-colored lips was nothing like the rich tone they expected to hear, it sounded nothing like the voice of the black-haired lady who sometimes stood with their Master, and that made them fall back, close to the light. Their wings now fluttering, trepidation, and something else, something dangerous, making the small group circle faster around the lamp, the butterflies looked at the Painted Lady as if searching for a piece of reassurance to the fact that she was who they thought she was and even thought the Butterfly Miraculous rested on her chest, even though one of their brothers had guided her here and now flew around her looking increasingly impatient, even though she had this scarf around her shoulders they recognized as belonging to their Master, they found that reassurance not in any of those things, but on that soft sadness that was starting to fill her blue eyes at their hesitation, that same sadness that gave her voice back its kindness, that made her sound like herself.

"It's just me."

The butterflies fell through the column of flickering light with those words, both the orange hue that came from it and the alley's darkness being reflected in their white wings as they went to fly around the Painted Lady much like they usually did with Hawkmoth.

And much like they did with Hawkmoth, the moment the Painted Lady reached one of her hands to them, one of the butterflies broke away from the group, it landed on her fingers — it did, even if it knew it was not to be granted an akuma's power.

"You know where Adrien is?" the Painted Lady asked.

The butterfly's only answer was to take flight from her fingers, to rejoin the group around her. For Nathalie it was as good as if they had spoken. Nothing. They had nothing. And reaching out to where the Collector stood, to the akuma that she had lost all manner of contact with while going back to the house, she peeked through the connection. It was only after a long moment of trying to make sense of the Collector's blurred vision, of trying to work out what could possible have happened without coming up with any answers, that she stepped back.

He was alone.

The narrow alley again around her, Nathalie turned back to the butterflies.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir?"

On the world of questions being answered the moment they were asked, this one was certainly not in the way Nathalie had envisioned. This sound, somewhere between a whistle and a hiss, had just come from behind her. A glance taking her attention to the gap between the two buildings that were over her, passed the butterflies, and she had stepped away from the light, retreating close to the alley's gray wall, the butterflies that had been around her following behind, landing so they they would cover her.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had just swung overhead. The girl with one of hers arms firmly wrapped around her partner's waist and looking straight ahead. Chat Noir looking around so attentively, it was possible he had seen her. In fact, judging by the way the two of them once again went overhead, it was almost certain they had — and, it spoke for itself that, as disastrous as that might be, Ladybug presence seemed to Nathalie more like a solution than a problem.

"She knows where Adrien is," Nathalie told the butterflies and pulling herself away from the wall, seeing the group that had been covering her, hiding her from prying eyes, again follow behind her as she walked down the alley, she peeked into the street, right over the row of parked cars and into the top of this building Ladybug and Chat Noir had just landed on. Then, she turned back to the butterflies.

"Don't let them see you."

Nathalie raised the frame she had been holding with those words, she watched as the butterflies surrounded it, picking it from her hand. They hadn't risen more than a few centimetres, however, when they seemed to lose their strength and the frame fell back down, the butterflies themselves scattering, flying in all directions, before they rushed back in, surrounded the frame again and—

Nathalie retreated a few steps inside the alley.

"Dark wings fall," she whispered, the light that washed over her leaving her face to face with this small purplish kwami, the butterflies that had been in front of her landing on the floor, walls and her clothes. "Can't they carry it?"

Nooroo looked at the frame in Nathalie's hands.

"I can carry it," he whispered and there was something to his face, to his voice, when the turned to Nathalie that hadn't been there before. "If she doesn't trust me to come back, she can order me too."

Nathalie looked up, at the rooftops where Ladybug had just joined her partner, yo-yo being put on her belt. Then at Nooroo, waiting by her side.

The frame was put into his hands.

"Please."

Adrien

Adrien was panting, small clouds leaving his lips as he looked towards the very real city around him and the rooftops that made it, the sound of Ladybug's footsteps as she jogged to get to his side making him turn.

"I swear it was him," Adrien told her, pointing out into the city. "He was on one of the alleys, butterflies and all. He is still here."

Stopping right at his side, her hands going to close over the cement handrail in front of them, Ladybug bit her lower lip.

"I don't get it," she muttered. "Why isn't he attacking? Why—?"

Ladybug stopped, this sideways glance she had just given Adrien as she turned to survey the rest of the city making her frown.

"We probably should make the best of it, come to think of it," she went on to say. "It isn't as if we haven't bigger problems. The Collector has your staff?"

Adrien blinked, the words "bigger problems" taking his attention all the way to the drawn rooftops in the distance, before the mention of his staff brought him back to his own hands. A single nod was all Ladybug needed, a glance at the rooftops around them, clearly to make sure Hawkmoth hadn't appeared there, and she turned her back on them, immediately crossing her arms.

"Okay, we have to come up with some plan, before Hawkmoth gets some mad idea and this gets worse than it already is," she announced, determined footsteps taking her across the terrace as she started to pace. "We know we can't trick the Collector into stepping away from that drawing, we have been trying that this entire time. We also know we can't hold our own against him. But there has to be something we haven't tried. There has to be."

Ladybug stopped in front of where Adrien had just sat, her arms crossed.

"Ideas, Chat?"

Having just started to shake his head, Adrien ended up raising his eyes.

"What about Lucky Charm?"

Ladybug sighed.

"I told you, Chat, Lucky Charm doesn't give us what I want," she explained, the frustration that was written on her face leading her straight back to pacing and down a path that lead her from this line of drying laundry to a group of chairs. "Not that I would know what that is supposed to be even if it did and—"

Ladybug had just started to bit her lower lip.

"What if I use Lucky Charm without having any idea of what we should be doing, it give us something random and we ran out of time?" she hypothesized. "Hawkmoth is here. We can't run the risk of de-transforming when—!"

Adrien raised his head from the hand he was pressing his forehead with. Golden hair again falling to his face and the black mask around his eyes, he pulled himself to his feet, he reached out for Ladybug's shoulder just as her new round of pacing took her passed him.

"We need something," he told her, once she stopped and her large blue eyes went to face his. "Anything, Milady."

Her expression deathly serious, Ladybug was anything but convinced.

"And if don't know what to do with it?" she said. "What then?"

Adrien let his hands fall away from Ladybug's shoulder, a pained smile reaching for his face.

"We don't know what do now."

Ladybug had just pressed her lips, seemingly finding no answer to that. A moment of hesitation and she stepped away from him, taking her yo-yo out of her belt. What followed was something Adrien had seen happen thousands of times already, Ladybug tossed her yo-yo up, the words "Lucky Charm!" crossed her lips and a moment later something came tumbling down from this flash of light above her, diving straight for Ladybug's outstretched hands.

Whatever Lucky Charm had come up with this time, it was something small. Really small. It was—

Adrien ran passed the clothes line and to where Ladybug was standing, looking at whatever lied on the palm of her right hand. His hope, however, turned into confusion when he saw what it was she had there.

A ring.

A weird ring that showed two hands holding a heart. He had absolutely no idea what that was or what was supposed to mean. Ladybug on the other hand—

"It's a Claddagh ring," she told him once Adrien stopped at her side, and, picking it between two fingers, she held it against the stars on the night sky, a thoughtful frown going through her face.

Adrien, on the other hand, could but stare.

"A what?"

"A Claddagh ring," Ladybug repeated, glancing his way, the wind that was going over the rooftops hitting her raven black hair. "It represents family. Mom has one of—"

Ladybug snapped her mouth shut, giving Adrien a penetrating glance.

"You didn't hear that."

Adrien couldn't even force a smile, he couldn't think of a joke, not even a good-humored "Heard what?". Instead, he had reached for the ring, he was going over it the same moment Ladybug dropped it on his hands. What—?

"What are we supposed to do with this?" Ladybug whispered, finishing his silent question. She was looking around now, moving back and forth as she did so, her eyebrows pressed together, squinting. "Come on. Come on, Ladybug, think. Think—"

She had just stepped on something. The unmistakable sound of cracking glass making the two of them look down, towards the beige stone slabs of the terrace and some sort of rectangular object that was even now resting right under Ladybug's left foot.

"I think Lucky Charm dropped something else," Adrien whispered right as Ladybug stepped back, looking between the ring Adrien had just returned to her and the object in the floor, her eyebrows raised in confusion. "It looks like some sort of box—"

Adrien had just dropped to one knee, the small shake he gave to the object seeing glass fall to the floor before he turned it and immediately froze. This thing he was holding—This was nota box. Also, it had definitely not come out of Lucky Charm. First, and most glaring, it was not red in any way. And second, because this thing, this frame belonged in his father's atelier, on the shelves to back of the room. It was the one that held his old drawing, that drawing he had made of himself and his parents, the same one his father had always kept with him, even when they had moved to the Loire and came back to Paris.

How on earth had this ended up here? Also—

Adrien stared into the lines in front of him in confusion, he did so before turning the frame on his hand and going to open the back.

Why was the drawing folded? Why was it that he and his mother were the only ones there? Who had—?

The answer came the same moment Adrien took the drawing from within, it came just as he unfolded it again and the lonely crayon figure that had been alone and invisible, pressed against the back of the frame, come back to view.

Adrien looked to the side, away from the drawing, and over the many many rooftops and terraces around him, he looked all the way to where tiles and cement and color gave way to black and white lines, to the place where they had left the Collector. To the place where is father was.

Why would you—?

Why?

"Adrien," Ladybug suddenly spoke, his name on her voice shocking Adrien so much he almost launched himself into a thoughtless"Yes?" before snapping his mouth shut and looking around searching for her. He didn't have to look far. Ladybug was standing right at his side, she too was studying the drawing, eyes going over the letters written in crayon.

"Adrien," she read again, comprehension and something else, something that made her eyes gleam, that made her smile, making her attention jump between the drawing between Chat Noir's gloved fingers and the ring she held in hers. "That's it, Chat! Adrien! Don't you see? We have to talk with him! I will—!"

The excited note to her voice faded. So did her smile. For a moment, Ladybug stood there, the city's rooftops behind her, her eyes going up and down Chat Noir's masked face, excitement giving way to worry, and looking just like she was remembering the way he had been behaving.

"I will—" she whispered.

Ladybug closed her eyes and although it seemed to break her heart, even it seemed to take all her strength, in the end she grabbed Adrien's hands, she gave him the ring.

"Chat, I will keep the Collector distracted while you get Adrien," she told him and marched to the edge of the terrace taking the yo-yo out of her belt, twirling it, tossing it to wrap around the nearest lamp post. "I left him near the park. He can help us. He must know how to stop the Collector!"

Ladybug jumped. Left behind, seeing her swing away, Adrien went back to look at the frame.

He does, he thought. For the first time, for the very first time, he actually knew what Lucky Charm was trying to say.

"Claws in," Adrien whispered once his feet hit the floor on very narrow alley, Hawkmoth being around making having made him ran all the way here, were Ladybug had left him, before allowing the transformation to fall, before allowing Plagg to appear in front of him, a confused look on his eyes.

"Why am I here?" the kwami asked, looking up at the tall walls that flanked them, at the drawing of Place des Vosges passed the alley's entrance, the stench coming from this long line of green dumpsters and the garbage spilling from inside a bag on the floor, making him cover his nose. "What are we doing back here?"

Fingers clasped around his old drawing, a last look being given at it, Adrien folded the sheet, putting it inside the pajama's chest pocket, and threw the broken frame aside.

"I am stopping this," Adrien announced.

Floating at his side, still covering his nose, Plagg cackled.

"Of course, you are!" he exclaimed, for a moment looking like he was going to lean against the alley's wall. "That is what we have been doing—"

It seemed to hit him. It seemed to hit Plagg right then. What was in Adrien's mind. Why Chat Noir wasn't here anymore. Why he, Plagg, was.

"No!" Plagg cried out, hand falling away from his nose and darting to stand in front of Adrien, to block him from reaching the drawn park beyond the alley, arms wide open. "He is going to hurt you!"

Adrien smiled, right hand caressing Plagg's head.

"It's just Father, Plagg," he reminded him. "He won't hurt me."

Plagg got closer to Adrien.

"I know he wouldn't normally, but he is not himself—Adrien!"

Adrien was leaving already, moving passed the line of dumpsters, stepping right over the garbage bag on the floor and out of the alley, leaving Plagg to dart after him, to dive inside his pocket, to look up, a nervous "Adrien" rising from his lips.

The battle was in full swing when Adrien finally managed to get back to Ladybug, and to say she was biding her time was being overly optimistic about what truly was going on.

Trying to remain on this patch of reality the Collector had kept, right in the middle of his drawing of Place des Vosges, Ladybug was visibly in trouble. In fact, the Collector had just managed to kick her away from safety, he had sent her flying into his drawing, and as Ladybug hit the ground, as she tried to get to her feet she found herself stuck. A hand, the drawn hand belonging to one of the drawings had just risen from the lines, it had closed around her left wrist, keeping her pined on stop.

Eyes widening in horror when the upper hand of the drawing released itself from the ground—and it was not just the upper body of any drawing but that of Sabine Dupain-Cheng—Ladybug tried to struggle herself away, she tried to release herself and if Adrien had arrived just a pair of seconds later the word 'disaster' wouldn't suffice to describe what would have happened.

Standing on top of this sophisticated-looking fountain, the drawn lines that mimicked water running right passed his feet, The Collector had just thrown his sketchbook. It was cutting through the air right now, flying low over grass and gravel paths, and heading straight for where Ladybug was still stuck in place, still struggling with Sabine's drawing. It was heading right for her and it would no doubt have gotten her, if Adrien hadn't jumped between the sketchbook and Ladybug, if the horror immediately flashing through the Collector's face hadn't made him clench the hand he still held in front of him.

The sketchbook lost all momentum that same instant, it crashed to the floor, opening a long depression on the gravel as it went. Her upper body still outside the lines on the ground, the drawn Sabine looked at Adrien, and she too fled, her rapid retreat leaving her to stream through the floor, just as Ladybug eyes bulged and she tried to make a grab at the Collector's fallen sketchbook. She wouldn't have been able to reach it even if Adrien hadn't grabbed her arm, pulling her the other way, back to the patch of reality: the sketchbook was already flying back, it hit the Collector's hand right as they come to stop, just as very real gravel went to bite into Adrien's feet.

"What are you doing?" Ladybug asked in a whisper once they stopped, and only for alarm to immediately take over her eyes, for her to look around. "Chat! Where is he?!"

"He got caught up by some drawings," Adrien lied, putting the ring Lucky Charm had given Ladybug back on her hand. "He told me to give you that."

Ladybug looked at her own hand, then at him.

"What are going to do?"

Adrien let go of her hand.

"Trust me on this."

The Collector landed in front of them just as Adrien finished speaking. His feet hitting the drawn lines of his imagined version of Place des Vosges, he stood to his full height, one hand pulling back the short locks of white and black hair that were falling to his forehead, burning red eyes glued to Adrien.

"Move," the Collector ordered.

Adrien didn't even flinch.

"No."

"I am telling you to get out of the way!"

"No."

"I am doing this for you!"

Adrien's expression saddened. Eyes never leaving the burning red ones that were locked with his, he stepped towards the Collector, he walked away from Ladybug and the real world where she belonged, and entered the drawing, he stopped only when he and the Collector were right in front of each other.

"Don't," Adrien told him.

And he let his forehead rest against the Collector's chest.

The Collector froze.

He froze just like his father always did. He stood there like he didn't know what to do, like he had no idea how to react. The Collector stood there—but it must be his father who was here, he must be here like he hadn't in a very long time for he had put one of his arms around Adrien's shoulders. And he hugged him. He hugged him.

"Please," Adrien whispered into the Colletor's chest, arms locking around him. "Please, come back."

There was this sound, like something had just fallen to the floor and that same instant Ladybug appeared at their side, skidding over the drawn pebbles, fleeing the Collector's reach. She hadn't need to worry about him, though. He made no gesture to follow her or to step away from Adrien. He didn't even as Ladybug prepared to rip the sketchbook in half and, instead, saw a butterfly flying out of the pages.

A white cloud surrounded the Collector. Flying right over him, a small butterfly, a butterfly so white it looked like it was made of pure light, dived into the night, flying right into the same real patch where Adrien had stood just a moment ago. Seeming to be searching for something, it flew and flew until it glimpsed a pair hiding behind a group of trees, recognition taking it down towards the place where a small purple kwami stood, to where a woman with dark hair was taking a drawn flower from inside the scarf around her shoulders, to where she had just out it over her hand.

"Lady?" Nooroo called out to her, the butterfly landing silently on his hands.

Nathalie didn't answer, her eyes resting on the drawn carnation the Collector had given her just like she wished to bind it to memory, like by sheer force of will she could keep it with her—in the end, however, the flower faded, taken by the same red light that restored the world, in its place, only a small lifeless bud remained.

Gazing into the distance for a moment, Nooroo turned back to Nathalie, the small gesture he made with his hand leading her attention to the wooden carousel in the distance and this stone fountain next to which Gabriel and Adrien stood.

"Won't the she join them?" Noroo asked, kindly, and just as Ladybug aimed for the rooftops, leaving Gabriel and Adrien on the park, alone. "Doesn't she belong there too?"

Sorrow overtook Nathalie's heart, a last glance at the lifeless bud resting on her palm, and she turned her hand, letting it fall to the ground, letting it disappear among the grass.

"Lady?"

Nathalie shook her head, arms returning to her side.

"I don't belong there, no," she said.

A glance being taken to where Adrien had just forced his father to sit at the fountain's border, Nooroo took flight from the branch where he had sat, he hovered for a pair of seconds at Nathalie's side, hesitating, before landing on her shoulder.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," he apologized.

"You didn't hurt me," Nathalie said and Nooroo dropped his eyes to the butterfly on his hands, the pain that was on Nathalie's heart now his own.

"I did," he whispered. "I'm—"

Nooroo didn't get a chance to say he was sorry. Nathalie had just shook her head, she was looking at him.

"You don't look well," she pointed out.

"I just need to eat," Nooroo explained. "I can wait until we get home."

Nathalie had just frowned, a whisper of "home" going through her lips as she glanced at Gabriel near to the fountain, looked back at Nooroo, and reached for the phone she kept on her skirt's pocket.

"Home," she now read, the message Nooroo could see on the display, those three words he had written this very morning, making Nathalie's expression fill with comprehension. "Home..."

Her attention flew back towards he fountain, back towards where Gabriel stood.

"The Loire Valley is home," she whispered and Nooroo didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't— "You sent this."

It wasn't what she said next.

"You didn't tell me your name," Nathalie said to him.

No, it wasn't that in any way.

"The Lady knows my name," Nooroo started to say and stopped.

That wasn't what she had meant, was it? And now he was taking flight, he was hovering in front of Nathalie, watching her wrap his holder's scarf closer around her shoulders, folding it carefully so it would hide the Miraculous, he was watching her leave. It was either answering her now or never getting a chance to.

"I'm Nooroo!"

Nathalie went back to studying him. And she might not trust him, she might not like him, maybe Nooroo would never get a chance to fix things with her, but hers were still the first kind words he had heard in a very long time.

"Thank you, Nooroo."

And with that Nathalie stepped away from the trees that had hid the two of them, she stepped into the path and moved away from him. It took a startled Nooroo a moment to notice she had turned her back on the fountain, that she was making her way towards the park's entrance, that she was stepping away from his holder, from Adrien. Alone.

"Lady," Nooroo called out and he waited until the soft rustling of pebbles stopped, until Nathalie stood right in the middle of the path, facing him with raised eyebrows.

"She is going the wrong way," Nooroo whispered.

The butterfly took flight with his words, calling Nathalie's attention away from where Nooroo stood, still surrounded by the green bushes and naked tree branches where they had hid, and towards the fountain, towards the pair that was there.

Nooroo could see Nathalie swallow, fingers closing nervously around the Miraculous as she watched Adrien fretting over his father and then turning back to where Nooroo stood, like she was questioning if she should trust him, if she should listen. In the end, she took a deep breath and signaled at him to enter the scarf. Covering Nooroo with it when he flew across the path to hide in there, Nathalie stepped towards the fountain.

As unsure as she was about this, all it took was seeing Adrien running her way for a soft smile to reach her face.

"I was telling Father, you had to be here too!" Adrien exclaimed, pulling her towards the fountain, towards where Gabriel sat, his eyes avoiding Nathalie's gaze, going to rest on the gravel around his feet. "Are you alright? Did you—?"

"Adrien!"

Adrien turned, his gaze moving passed the fountain and towards one of the garden's path, a path a large group was now climbing up, the two teenagers to the front waving enthusiastically at him.

A huge smile now on his face, a single step taking him their way, Adrien nevertheless stopped, hesitating, a glance bringing him back to where Gabriel sat.

"Go," he said.

Adrien's eyes widened, surprise leaving him staring at Gabriel for a moment before he hugged for a second and half-ran, half-limped towards his friends.

Staring after him, fingers going to close over the empty air where Adrien's arms had closed around his shoulders, Gabriel went to gaze at the ground for an instant, before taking his gaze back up, to Nathalie.

"That was you," Gabriel whispered, gaze against fleeing towards Adrien, the slow cascading water of the fountain singing behind his words.

Watching Adrien join his friends, the tall boy that had called to him and the curly haired girl that was to his side pulling him into an embrance, Nathalie shook her head. She turned back to Gabriel.

"That was him," she said.

Letting his attention linger on his son for a few moments, Gabriel looked back at Nathalie.

"Thank you."

Hiding inside the scarf, Nooroo could feel Nathalie's surprise before it reached her eyes, he could feel her relief—and he could something deeper, something stronger, something he had long known was there. And so, he watched from the scarf as his holder got back to his feet and stepped towards Nathalie, he watched as they turned their backs on the park and started to leave side by side.

Dropping his eyes, Nooroo knew, he just knew, they were heading the wrong way.

"Wait!"

Nooroo went straight, a soft flutter going through his wings as Nathalie turned and he saw a solitary figure running away from the circle of people to the other side of the fountain.

Maybe he was just being naive right now.

Maybe he was just tired.

Maybe things would never stop being hopeless and he would never get a chance to be with Plagg and Tikki and everyone else ever again, but the figure coming in their direction was Adrien. He had just skidded to a stop in front of them. He was here, standing right in front of his father and Nathalie, pointing to the group behind him with a huge smile on his face. And before the wave of anxiety sweeping over Gabriel could spill out of his lips to form a resounding "No," before Nathalie had a chance to look between father and son and figure out a middle ground, Adrien had reached forth and grabbed both the elegant pale hand belonging to Nathalie and the far larger calloused one belonging to his father and pulled both of them with him.

They were making their way to the fountain now, across the garden path and to where the small group Adrien had left was gathered.

Nestled inside the scarf, eyes round with surprise, Nooroo let his attention wander towards Nino and Alya, towards this young lady who, perhaps, looked a little like Ladybug and who was standing with her parents, clear blue eyes going to meet Adrien and immediately taking refuge on the floor, at Adrien himself who still stood in the middle of Nathalie and Gabriel, holding onto them, like he was afraid they would flee.

The soft fabric of the scarf closing in front of him, Nooroo stepped back, going to lean so close to Nathalie's chest he could hear her heartbeat.

He had no idea why, but this moment right now, of standing among this group who didn't even know he was here, this moment of not knowing Tikki was right in front of him hiding inside Marinette's pajamas, eating a piece of candy, that Plagg was right to his left, belly up inside Adrien's pocket and licking his fingers, cheese already gone, was the happiest he had been in centuries.

---

Author's Notes:

Thank you for your comment, Guest and Dark! It was great hearing from you!

Between us when I first watched "The Collector" this was how I thought he would be brought down, as we all know I was wrong! But, yeah, that episode was my favorite for a long long time, and that little scene between the Collector and Adrien was one of the reasons I sat down to write TSAR :)

And so this long-running chapter is finally finished XD This means we are going into new and hopefully better things. Next chapter is titled "Rot" and it will go over Gigantitan, Glaciator and Sapotis. I'm also glad - oh my god, I'm so glad - to inform there won't be any sort of battles for the first three parts. "Rot" is fully planned out, it has four parts, so let's keep our fingers crossed it cooperates and starts being published soon!

See you around :) or, for those who are there, discord!

Please leave a comment and... Until next time!

~Windcage