Alright! This is the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy it.
Warnings: continual mentions of near death and injury, crushing guilt (which could probably pass as the story title at this point), story typical side effects of being akumatized, unhealthy dependency, near panic attacks. That should be it.
Chapter Three: Hope, Hopeful, Hoping
Nathaniel felt more than heard the final ring of warning as the Miraculous stopped working. Unfortunately, he was still standing in the street, along with Chloe and a newly un-Akumatized Marc. Hopefully he could convince them both to keep quiet… He could feel the powers of the Miraculous bleeding out of him, a soft light enveloping him. The light faded, leaving him in his normal clothes. The bandages were gone, along with whatever remaining injuries he may have had, thanks to the Miracle Cure.
He had been worried about deactivating the Miraculous, after what had happened with Hawkmoth's powers, but he felt fine. Tired, but fine. The ache and need for Hawkmoth's false powers hadn't changed, but he didn't feel the same kind of pull towards the Miraculous. Honestly, he was relieved. Part of him, deep down, was terrified that it would get worse. But... it was the same as always. He could handle that. He was used to it.
Tikki blinked, hovering in the air for just a moment, before darting into his jacket pocket. She was secret, and apparently, she was going to stay that way. That was probably for the best.
He took a deep breath, dreading the conversation he was going to have. He turned to face the two others behind him, wilting as he saw them. Marc was curled up, sitting on the ground. He was shivering, head buried in his arms. Chloe was standing just a few feet from Nathaniel, staring at him, gaze piercing. She held herself properly, oozing her usual air of pride. Her eyes were wary, her mouth turned down into a subtle frown. She was waiting. Watching.
His eyes darted to Marc. He couldn't leave him like that any longer. He needed to help him, but he needed to talk to Chloe before she left… But then, Marc was more important than making sure Chloe stayed quiet. He could deal with her taunts and jabs, and even the other kids at school if she decided to tell them. Mind made up, he carefully approached Marc, crouching next to him.
Now, this close, he could hear soft hiccups and sniffles, the occasional sob forcing its way from Marc's throat. Guilt twisted its way through Nathaniel's chest, cold and sharp, spreading dark veins through his throat and choking him. He caused this. Partly for what he'd done earlier, and then... he knew he shouldn't feel bad, but it was only because he'd gotten rid of the Akuma that Marc was like this. That now, he had to deal with what he'd done as Reverser.
Nathan tentatively reached out, placing a hand on Marc's shoulder. He flinched away from Nathaniel, almost toppling backwards before he caught himself. Marc looked up at him, red-rimmed eyes wide and shining with tears. A whirlwind of emotions waged a war across his face. Fear, confusion, pain, and sadness. There was a hollowness in his eyes, and within it, there was an even deeper emptiness, so much guilt and horror that it shook Nathaniel to his core. Marc just stared up at him, terrified, shivering, breath coming out in small gasps. Nathaniel hesitated. What did he do now?
"Marc?" he asked softly, and with that one word it was as if whatever tentative force that had been keeping Marc from a complete breakdown was destroyed, crumbling down around them. Nathaniel could see the new wave of tears filling his eyes, right before Marc crumpled into a heap on the ground. He curled in on himself, letting out a loud, high pitched keen. His shoulders shook and spasmed, and loud, hiccuping sobs interrupted short, wavering breaths.
"I-I'm s-sorry-" he broke off, occasionally letting out a few broken fragments of words that barely formed a blurred apology. Nathaniel reached out again, placing both hands on Marc's shoulders.
"Hey, it's okay," he murmured, scooting closer. "It's okay. Marc, take deep breaths. Just focus on breathing."
Marc shuddered, suddenly freezing at Nathaniel's words. Instead of improving, Marc stopped breathing entirely. After a moment, a bit of the tension seeped from his shoulders and Marc took a deep, shuddering breath. Nathaniel bit his lip. He... he didn't actually know how to help people when they were going through things like this. Yes, he'd gone through it himself, but... he didn't know how to help other people that were going through it. Besides, the repercussions of the Akuma's and the people's actions varied greatly from person to person. He didn't know Marc that well as it was, so for this... he didn't even know where to start.
And after everything that Marc must have seen in his time as Reverser, all the things he'd caused... there was probably a lot there that needed to be addressed. Even just the small portion of it that Nathaniel had been there for had been awful. People had died within the first few minutes. To have been the direct cause of that, and whatever else had happened... that had to weigh on someone. That kind of thing could break someone, couldn't it? All those people would be okay now, but the damage had been done. Nathan sighed.
"Marc?" he asked again. "Can you look at me?"
Marc whimpered, but raised his head, just enough for his eyes to meet Nathaniel's.
"R-Red?- Nathan- I-I…" he broke off again, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm s-sorry. 'M s-so sorry, I-"
"Shh. Deep breaths," and again, Marc winced at those words, so no more of that, "it'll be okay. What are you feeling?"
Marc shuddered, before looking up at him again. He looked almost confused. The kind of shock that came from something completely unexpected. Why are they so concerned about someone who's done so much damage? It was a thought that far too many people had.
"I-I…," he sniffled, pausing. "T-tired, and bad. And empty, and a-alone. And I-I'm sorry-"
"You don't have to apologize. It'll be alright. It's okay." Nathaniel hesitated, before pulling him into a gentle embrace. Marc stiffened for a moment, before burying his head in Nathaniel's shoulder. Nathaniel shifted, ensuring that Tikki would be safe in his pocket, and began rubbing small circles into Marc's back. He wasn't quite sure where to go from here. "Marc... I'm sorry. For earlier."
Marc trembled, and Nathaniel pulled him closer. He heard footsteps behind him, heels clicking on concrete, and he glanced back at Chloe. She looked away, but held something out to him. It was a book. 'The Journal Of Ladybug'. He took it with one hand, all but cradling Marc with the other. He smiled at Chloe, wilting as she glared back. She spun around and stalked off a ways before stopping. She was just... waiting. So he would have that conversation after all. Well, that was going to have to wait. He nudged Marc softly, smiling gently at him as he looked up, eyes still red.
"Um, here. If you want it," he said, holding out the book. Marc eyed him warily, before looking at the offering. His hand trembled as he reached out for it, and for a moment his fingers simply rested on the cool cover. Nathaniel thought he could see a flash of disappointment in his eyes, before it vanished. He frowned. Had it really been there, or was he just imagining things? After another second Marc took the book from him, holding it protectively against his chest. He curled around it, partially leaning against Nathaniel.
Nathan looked at him worriedly. On one hand, he seemed to be doing better. On the other, Marc could just be shutting down. Either way, it would probably be best if they all went home. It was late, probably even past midnight by now. He was about to speak, to ask Marc if he was okay, when the boy's small voice cut through the quiet.
"N-Nathan...?" Marc's voice was shaky, and threatened to break. The sound died quickly, and Marc curled up tighter, as if trying to disappear.
"Yeah?" he responded, squeezing Marc's shoulder reassuringly.
"W-will it..." he cut off, somehow curling up even more. He shivered, ducking his head, hiding his face in his arms. "Does it stop? W-will it ever stop hurting?"
"...Which part?" Nathaniel asked softly. "Some of it. Some of it usually goes away. The rest... we have to carry with us."
Marc shivered, though whether from the cold or something else Nathaniel couldn't tell. He sighed, trying to ignore his own feelings, which were once again at the forefront of his mind. He knew that it was different for some people, he'd talked to others that had gone through the experience, as most of them had needed people to talk to, people that would understand, and they had all had differences. Nathaniel himself felt hollow, and an aching need for the power. Others he'd talked to hadn't been affected as heavily by them, but instead felt like their personality had been changed, closer to their alter ego than themselves. There were a lot of different ways people could be affected, so... how had it affected Marc? It wasn't any of Nathaniel's business if Marc didn't want to tell him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder. On top of that, it might be easier to help if he understood.
"I… some of it still gets to me. A lot of it stopped, for the most part. But…" he hesitated, not sure if he wanted to continue. "There's something that's not going away. I don't think it ever will, to be honest. Most of us are like that, and it can be… hard. And it can affect people in a lot of different ways, but… usually? It gets better. From what I've heard, it just takes a bit of time for everything to settle back into place. And maybe some things won't, but… whether that happens or not? No matter what you're feeling, we'll be here for you. I'll be here, and I know a lot more of us that are definitely willing to help. So… if you want? You can talk to me, or someone else. You aren't alone in this."
Marc sniffled, but nodded.
"For now though," Nathaniel said softly, "it's late. We should probably go home, I think."
"O-okay," Marc whispered. "…Thanks, Red."
Another chance had slipped away.
Another attempt had failed.
He'd been so close this time. If there hadn't been outside interference, he would have won. He could have won. He'd been so close...
Gabriel sighed, gripping his cane tightly. He was almost certain that having something to hold was the only reason his hands weren't shaking. He couldn't help the anger and disappointment that rose hot and thick in his throat, couldn't stop his teeth from grinding together. He felt the sting of failure as sharp and real as any physical pain, a dangerous anger dragging its way into his mind. His grip on the cane was so tight he felt as though it should have snapped.
At least Ladybug and Chat Noir couldn't claim the victory. They hadn't had any part in this. They had failed. If they didn't have help, he would have won.
Somehow that made him feel even worse.
"Someday soon," he growled, "I will win. You may have won today, but soon the tides of victory shall be... reversed."
The joke loosened the ache in his chest, just slightly. He found they helped him after a defeat, helped soothe his anger and smooth over the feelings of failure. The jokes were a distraction, and they were easy to slip into his speech. Still, he couldn't even smile. He missed the days when he could. If only she were here... she could always make him laugh. But, then, she was the reason he was doing this.
"Someday soon..." I'll save you.
Chloe fell onto her bed, letting out a loud sigh. She couldn't even believe what had happened in the last few hours. First, she'd been hit by Marc's stupid paper airplanes, and then- then she had been twisted around into some stupid, weak-hearted, emotional wreck! The memories were a bit fuzzy, but they were all there.
She could remember going out and helping everyone, she remembered how bad she'd felt about everything, and worst of all, she remembered Nathaniel. She couldn't believe she had helped him! How had he even gotten a hold of Ladybug's Miraculous in the first place?
And she'd been so... so weak! For the entire time she had been with him, she'd been so soft, and stupid. He probably only 'let' her come so he could use it all against her later. If so, she also had something to use against him. Before she'd left him and Marc (and why had she stayed so long in the first place?), he'd asked, all but begged, her to keep quiet about what had happened. Especially his involvement. If he tried to blackmail her, or use any of what had happened against her, then she could hold her knowledge over his head as well. They were at a standstill.
But... something was bothering her. How she'd felt... how much she had hated the thought of going back to being herself... Why had she felt that way? And she had felt so... bad, about everything. Perhaps that was what she made others feel? Terrified of being themselves, feeling horrible about things they'd done while they didn't have full control... if that's what they felt... how could she think of spreading that around? But it helped her. Sure, they felt bad, but it was the only outlet she had. If it helped her, how could she stop?
An image of Nathaniel popped into her head, sad, but at the same time, he was smiling. Seemingly sincere. Honest. His words still rattled around in her head. '...aren't they a hero?'
She scoffed. Had a few pretty words really worked on her? That was ridiculous, just... ridiculous! People like them, like him, and Marc, and the others, they could never be heroes, no matter how noble their actions were. But... he had been, hadn't he? He'd been a hero to her, until the mess Marc had caused had been cleared up. It hadn't been her, not really, but it had been, all at once. What did that mean? Was it... was she wrong, somehow?
She couldn't be. She couldn't let herself be wrong. But... maybe.
Maybe it wasn't just all of them.
Maybe she was broken too.
Nathaniel sighed, falling into bed, face down. His legs ached, his head hurt, his arms were sore, and he was just tired. It was past midnight, meaning it'd been at least... five or six hours since this mess had started. It didn't feel like it. He wasn't sure if it felt like it had been longer or shorter, especially considering he'd been unconscious for most of it, but... it just didn't seem right. He heard something fall onto the bed beside his ear, and he shifted, turning his head to face the source of the noise. Tikki, looking just as tired as he felt, was sitting in front of his face. Seeing her reminded him of… of something. There was something he was supposed to do… What was it? He was too exhausted to think.
Suddenly it came to him and his eyes opened wide. He sat up, ignoring the way his body protested the action. His head spun, vision blurring for a moment.
"Oh," he breathed, the only thing he was currently capable of saying. He blinked, trying to clear his mind and focus. Why was he suddenly so tired? "Fu is going to be mad. I-I need to bring you back, o-or find Marinette-" He moved to stand up, but Tikki flew up to eye level, waving her hands in a calming motion.
"Don't worry," she mumbled, yawning. "It can wait until tomorrow. No one can expect you to go out again at one or two or so in the morning. Everything," she yawned again, "is fine."
He frowned.
"Are you sure it's okay to wait? Fu made it sound important," he said. "And Marinette is probably worried sick. She doesn't even know what happened."
Tikki looked sad for a moment, and Nathaniel remembered the last time that the Kwami had seen Marinette hadn't exactly been a good experience. It was just after she'd been reversed, when Marinette had all but thrown the Miraculous away, when she'd thrown Tikki away. He felt a flash of anger at that, before it quickly died. It wasn't Marinette's fault. In fact, that was all but the opposite of what she'd really do. Still, he couldn't help but be upset about how it seemed to be affecting Tikki. He barely knew her, but he liked her. Sadness joined his exhaustion as he realized that he probably wouldn't see her again. After he got her back where she belonged, that would be it. It wasn't like he and Marinette ever hung out outside of group gatherings. That meant… he'd lose Tikki, who, in only a few short hours, had managed to become his friend.
But he couldn't do anything to change that. Even if he could, he probably shouldn't. After she went back to Marinette, everything would go back to normal. Except… it wouldn't really. Marc had joined the ranks of people who Hawkmoth had hurt, people who were scorned and looked down upon. He probably wouldn't be able to think of Chloe the same way again either. She'd gone back to normal, but… she still seemed different, when he'd talked to her. She hadn't even said anything especially hurtful, to him or to Marc. Besides that, Nathaniel now knew Tikki, Plagg, and Fu. He knew Marinette was Ladybug, and that Adrien was Chat Noir.
And, speaking of Adrien… Nathaniel wasn't sure if he could face him. Sure, he knew that it wasn't Adrien's fault, but... Every time Nathaniel tried to think of going to talk to him, or even just seeing him, he couldn't. He knew that what he'd met wasn't Adrien, just as it hadn't been Chloe or Marinette, but it had still looked like him. It still sounded like him. And he had hurt him. Nearly killed him. Nathaniel barely suppressed a shudder.
It hadn't truly been Adrien, but it was still Adrien's face, his eyes, even covered by the mask as it had been for most of it. But now that he knew who was behind the mask, he couldn't fathom why he hadn't realized who it was before. It was Adrien, his eyes still recognizable if you saw past the slits, his voice was more carefree, but was still the same. And it was Adrien's hands that hurt him, even covered in black gloves as they were. The hands that had dug into his skin, fingers sharp and strong thanks to the Miraculous's power, burrowing through his flesh and digging hot trails of agony through muscle and bone. It was Adrien's laughter, twisted as it was, that had sounded above him as he struggled to keep his grasp on consciousness. His fingers that carved thin lines down his face, though all that had vanished now that they had fixed everything.
Fixed was a loose term for what he'd done.
He hadn't fixed it. No one ever fixed it. Everything was still broken, they'd just replaced the illusion.
He blinked, eyes hot and stinging. Tikki was saying something, but he didn't quite catch the meaning. Hot tears trailed down his face, and he gasped, trying to breathe, but it was as if his throat had collapsed in on itself. His lungs worked desperately, but air couldn't escape past his broken neck. Finally, he managed a small, trembling breath, which then broke into heavy, shuddering sobs. What was wrong with him? What was wrong?
His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white, as he tried to steady himself.
"Nathan!" A small voice broke through to him, and he looked up. Tikki was hovering near his face, worry and fear clear in her eyes. He was scaring her. She had enough to worry about, he needed to stop- "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
He blinked, shivering.
"I-I don't- It's all just-" He gasped, trying to get his breathing to even out. "I was just thinking and-"
"Shh, calm down. Take deep breaths," she said. He tried, he really, really did, but he couldn't breathe. One moment he'd been fine, and now he was a wreck. He wasn't even sure of what had set him off. What had happened? He choked, and just like that there was a hand around his throat. Was it because of Adrien? Or just the way things were in general? He wasn't sure. He couldn't think right, thoughts refusing to connect. "Just calm down, everything is okay! There's nothing wrong."
It was probably meant to help him, but the words just made it worse.
"It isn't just 'okay'! It doesn't all just get better and fix itself, even if it looks like it does," He closed his eyes, finally managing to breathe. Maybe an outburst was all that was needed. Like that was helping anything. "On the outside, I guess it looks fine. Nothing's broken, everything's in place. But... it isn't. Every person Hawkmoth touches, every person those people hurt, everyone who dies, or is in danger… they don't just forget. It doesn't just disappear."
He brought a hand to his chest, the dark pit of greed and desperation still there, just under the surface of his skin.
"I… I'm not… okay." he mumbled, glaring at the wall. He was too tired to keep a filter on his thoughts. He'd probably regret spilling his heart out to… what, five people, including both Kwami? All in the space of one day. Right now, he didn't care. "There are so many people that aren't okay. I know them. Classmates, friends, neighbors… People died today. They're okay now, though, right? But is that really true? How do they feel? What about the man who shot them? What about Marinette? She gave up. She almost doomed everyone! She almost gave you and her Miraculous to Hawkmoth. How will she feel? How's Adrien doing? He tried to kill Marc, and he nearly killed me. How is he?
"What about Chloe? How will this affect her? She was a different person, and with how she felt? How is she going to feel now that that person is gone? And... Marc," he mumbled, curling in on himself, "he caused all of that, and he doesn't even know everything that happened! But he can guess, and he saw enough. How can it be okay if there's so much that's still so messed up? We can't fix all of that, we just have to... accept it. But people just ignore it, and it'll just get worse the longer we do."
He fell silent, not sure what else to say. Tikki was quiet, and he looked up to see her. She was still hovering in the air, quiet, empty, mournful. Guilty. Sad.
"I guess that's true," she said, drooping. After a second her gaze hardened, becoming determined. "But that just means we have to work harder! We can help people, and we can make things better. Maybe it won't be perfect, but… was it ever?"
He paused. They could make it better- not entirely, and nowhere near perfect, but... better. After a moment, he managed to smile.
"I guess you're right. I'll... try. I'll try."
She nodded, and promised to do the same. After a moment, he made her a little bed on his dresser. He was tired, but she needed to rest just as much as he did. After making sure everything was settled, that everything was as okay as it could be, he let himself collapse back into bed. He still had on the clothes he'd worn throughout the day, too tired to even think about changing into pj's. At least he'd had the presence of mind to take his shoes off at the door.
He fell asleep quickly, with the hope that everything would be okay in the morning.
He could talk to Marinette at school. Then he could stop worrying.
Everything was going to be okay.
School was subdued. Everything had gone back to how it was before, but there was an air of disquiet over the building. Dark clouds surrounded the students and teachers alike. This happened often. Every time a big disaster occurred, it took time for everyone to settle back into place. After what had happened… it wasn't like it was the absolute worst they'd ever seen, but it was near the top of the list. It was going to take a few days, at the very least. His guess was that they wouldn't settle down for at least a week.
Teachers were either far more strict or oddly relaxed, like they didn't want to disturb the fragile peace that they'd found. Students huddled together in tightly knit groups, separated from everyone else. Marc, and Nathaniel was surprised he had even come (Nathaniel himself had only forced himself to go because he had to return Marinette's Miraculous), had situated himself in the very back of every room, during classes, breaks, and lunch, always huddled in on himself, as if wishing to disappear.
Nathaniel had sat beside him at every opportunity, ignoring the eyes of the others as he went. People occasionally cast looks at Marc, whether with anger, pity, or curiosity. Apparently, though few had witnessed the event, word had travelled quickly. Everyone knew. Nathaniel stared at the offending students until they looked away, while Marc cowered and hid from their gazes. Chloe, surprisingly, had been quiet throughout the day. She held her tongue, and even when her eyes wandered to where he and Marc were sitting, she'd quickly looked away. It wasn't dismissive or spiteful. It was just... avoidant.
Adrien wasn't there. He... he couldn't decide whether that was good or bad.
Nearly half his classes had gone by before he finally had the chance to talk to Marinette. He hesitated, the remnants of fear and discomfort worming their way into his mind. But, no. He had to talk to her.
"Marinette?" he asked. She jumped, spinning around to face him. Guilt flashed through him, sharp and cold. "Sorry- um, I didn't mean to startle you."
She shook her head.
"It's fine." she glanced around. The hall was empty. "I'm... I'm sorry, Nathan. For what I said, when I was… changed."
He blinked. He hadn't expected her to apologize. He'd heard much worse from people, to the point that what she'd said had barely registered as hurtful. Really, most of the pain her words caused was because... well, it was her.
Tikki flew from his jacket pocket, rushed to Marinette and clung to her. For a moment Marinette seemed surprised, as if she hadn't expected Tikki to be there, before she grinned, a bright, relieved smile, joined by misty eyes.
"Tikki! I'm so glad you're okay!" she paused, then, wilting. "I'm... I'm so, so sorry for leaving you! It won't happen again."
Tikki smiled, looking up to see Marinette's face. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it. And besides, it all worked out."
Marinette hesitated, before looking up at Nathaniel. She looked… scared.
"You won't tell anyone about…" She trailed off. He could guess what she meant. Her secret. Ladybug.
"I won't tell anyone. Promise." He smiled, hesitating. "I… Thank you. For everything you do. You… you're amazing, Marinette."
She blushed slightly. Compliments of any sort tended to get that reaction from her, but that didn't make them any less true. He held out his hand, making sure to keep what he was holding out of view. The hall was empty, but you couldn't be too careful. She held out her hand, and he placed her Miraculous in her palm. She clutched them tightly, a bright smile appearing on her face.
"Thank you," she said, throwing his words right back into his face. "For everything."
Adrien waited in the car, the stifling, stuffy air and ever-watchful eyes of his bodyguard not bothering him as much as usual. Actually, he preferred it to the alternative of stepping out of the vehicle. Really, he just didn't want to be outside. Well, scratch that. Outside would be fine. He just didn't want to be here. At school.
For once, he was longing for the safety, security, and reassurance of home. Even that prison of a house, and the coffin-like feeling of his room was preferable to being here. Everything inside of him screamed at him to leave, to go home, where nothing bad could happen. Where he wouldn't need to confront what he had done.
He really, really didn't want to see Nathaniel.
It wasn't that he didn't want to apologize, or didn't want to make sure Nathaniel was okay, or anything like that. It was just... there was an overwhelming sense of danger telling him to leave. If he went to Nathaniel, who knows what would happen. Guilt, disgust, and horror continued to rage in his mind. Really, it hadn't stopped since he'd been freed from Reverser's power.
What he'd done was unforgivable. He knew that already. He just couldn't stand the thought of having that confirmed by the people he had wronged. Or, well... the one. While he did feel bad about his fight with Reverser - who he now knew was Marc, as news had spread far too quickly - nothing had really come of it, and… Marc didn't know it had been Adrien. That didn't excuse anything, of course, but… he couldn't apologize for it. Chat Noir could, but he couldn't. Adrien could, however, apologize to Nathaniel.
He also needed to address the issue of Nathaniel knowing that he was Chat Noir, but that was far, far lower on his list of concerns. Who even cared if someone knew? It was just a formality in the way it had to be addressed.
But he needed to make sure Nathaniel was okay. He needed to apologize, for all the good it would do. But... could he? He felt sick. He couldn't just... go up and talk to him after that. He couldn't just apologize, as if that could make it all better.
But he had to. He couldn't just hide in his room after last night, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't leave it all how it was. He had hurt Plagg, something they had already talked through, and he'd tried to kill Marc, in the form of Reverser. That was... better, no one had really gotten hurt, and, at least, Reverser had been fighting back. At least he'd been doing something wrong. Nathaniel though... aside from being where he shouldn't, he'd done nothing to deserve what had happened. He'd been trying to help. It had been a split second, spur of the moment decision to follow Adrien that had gotten Nathaniel in the most trouble, but even before that...
When he'd yelled for Adrien to stop, when he'd caused Reverser, his prey, to fly out of reach... In that moment, he'd felt so much hatred. So much anger. He'd completely forgotten about Reverser, honestly, his focus entirely on Nathan. Adrien shuddered, remembering how... eager he had been. He'd wanted to use his Cataclysm on Nathan, to feel the boy crumble into nothing beneath his hands. Now, he just felt sick.
Then... they'd ended up alone. He could remember the hatred he felt towards everyone who'd been under the influence of Hawkmoth. The desire to purge the world of their tainted lives. But that was wrong. He didn't want that! He hated that he was even able to recall it. Those people... most of them were his friends. One of them was his father, and one was his bodyguard. And the ones he didn't know were still good people! He just didn't know them all that well.
After that… Nathaniel had tried to get away from him, and...
Adrien had... hurt him. More than that, even. He didn't want to say tortured, but... was that what it had been? Hurting someone excessively for enjoyment or information or whatever other inadequate reason you could use? His stomach churned as he remembered it. The clawed tips of his gloves had been useful in many situations, but now Adrien wished they weren't quite so sharp. The thick, tough material of his suit had kept him from feeling the muscle and sinew as he'd cut into Nathaniel, just as it kept the blood from staining his fingers. But he could imagine, and his suit had done nothing to cover the scent of blood in the air. It did nothing to stop the warmth of blood and flesh as it did the actual substance. It did nothing to block the screaming. And in the moment, in the time that he'd been affected by Reverser... he had delighted in that. He had adored the sounds of pain and agony, and the metallic scent of blood.
He felt like he was going to throw up, eyes stinging. He curled into himself on his seat, ignoring the gaze of his driver. He knew the basics, that Adrien had been hit by Reverser, that he had messed up and hurt someone, but he didn't know anything more. The eyes on him made him feel worse, but it was something else to focus on. He'd had time earlier, to think, to re-live, but now that he was so close... now that he was here? He was falling apart all over again. He tried to push all the thoughts aside, shivering as the prison slipped through his defenses anyway.
He didn't remember much about that part, aside from Master Fu entering to take his Miraculous. After that... It was just dark, and cold, and empty. There were chains holding him in place. Nothing else. No light. No sound. Just rage. Hatred. Tears slid down Adrien's cheeks and he sniffed, only now realizing that he'd begun to cry.
He'd skipped school already. He'd come only to try to apologize, if Nathan was even still here - and if he'd ever been in the first place - which would honestly surprise him. Adrien just had to find him, apologize, and go. But... he couldn't. The mere thought of it made him want to curl up and hide, all while his stomach twisted in on itself and died. But he needed to try. He couldn't just let this fester.
At the very least, he had to see that Nathaniel was okay. Hesitantly, hand trembling, he opened the car door. He looked out for a moment, waiting. And after a few more seconds, he saw Nathaniel exit the building. Adrien froze.
He was right there, descending the short flight of steps leading to the doors of the school. Adrien's heart pounded a frantic rhythm in his ears, and his lungs seemed to shrink, unable to hold the amount of air he needed to survive. All but the smallest piece of him wanted to run. The one, single shard of another thought told him something else; He needed to do this. It was now or never, so he'd better go now.
Adrien walked stiffly towards Nathaniel, resisting the urge to run, to leave, to get away. It was an unfamiliar feeling; A deep seated fear that echoed in time to his heartbeat, dancing through his veins and trying to twist his muscles around so he'd leave (funny that he was so afraid, considering he'd been fine. He'd been the one to-). He couldn't listen to that fear, no matter how much he wanted to.
He hadn't even made it halfway there before Nathaniel caught sight of him, and Adrien could see the blood flow from his face. Just as it had flown from the veins Adrien had cut, just as it flowed and dripped down Nathaniel's cheeks as Adrien sliced them open, thin lines that wept crimson tears- He tore his thoughts back from the edge of panic, and focused on Nathaniel. Just focus on the now. He wasn't bleeding. He wasn't crying, or screaming, or anything like that. There were no cuts, or bruises, or scars. No evidence.
No, no, no. Focus.
Nathaniel was okay. He was just... afraid.
Adrien stopped walking, barely noting that he'd been continuing the motion through the onslaught of thoughts. Maybe- maybe he should just go. Not for him, but... for Nathan. If he didn't want to see Adrien, then he shouldn't talk to him regardless of that. It was clear that neither of them were particularly looking forward to this conversation. Was it too late to go back now? Would that be worse? Appearing, then leaving again? What would Nathaniel think? What was there even to think? He didn't even know. He didn't know what to do. What should he be doing? Had this been just a horrible, half-baked idea? Maybe he should have waited. Neither of them seemed ready for this. How could they be?
Problem was, he'd almost made it to Nathaniel, and since the other hadn't moved, seeming too dazed and distracted to do so, there wasn't much distance to go, just a few, big steps. Would it be worth it to just leave now? Would it be worse? Whatever happened, he knew it wouldn't ever happen if he didn't do this now. If he walked away, he doubted he could ever turn back. Taking a shuddering breath, he took the last remaining steps.
He could see Nathaniel's body lock up, jaw clenched, eyes focused only on Adrien's face. His legs and arms were stiff, hands clenched and shoulders tense. Adrien's own hands shook as he opened his mouth to speak.
"H-" His voice cut off. He swallowed, trying to get the sound to move through his throat. The words were clear in his mind, but by the time they should have past his lips they were gone. He still knew them, but the sound died somewhere along the way. Still, now it was far too late to change his mind. "...Hey."
It was a bad start. An awful start, really, but... it was still a start. That was what mattered.
Nathaniel jumped slightly, not really out of fear, though. It seemed to be more like... surprise. Like he'd been snapped out of deep thought. If Adrien's thoughts were bad, then how bad must Nathan's be? Now free of his dazed prison, Nathaniel took a step back, swaying slightly. He looked awful. Pale. Tired. Scared. Terrified. How much of that was Adrien's fault? He needed to finish this fast, and then get away, not for himself, but for Nathaniel. If this was his reaction, then Adrien shouldn't be here. He shouldn't put anyone through this.
"I-I'm sorry-" he tried, hating how weak his voice was, "For being here, I mean, you don't want me to be, and-" He stopped, taking a breath and looking away. "I needed to tell you, I'm sorry. For what happened last night. For... for everything." He swallowed past the lump in his throat, closing his eyes. "I know it's not something you can forgive, but I... I needed to tell you. I'm sorry."
His hands began to tremble even more than before, eyes stinging. This hadn't lifted any of the weight in his chest, the guilt was still there, dark and cold and heavy, but he hoped that it helped somehow. That something was better for it having happened. He was sorry, he could barely even breathe past the guilt. But he'd have to continue on after this, continue to breathe, and that made it even worse. But, even if it changed nothing, apologizing was something that he'd needed to do.
"I..." Nathaniel's voice was small and fragile, and it shook violently, like someone about to cry. Still, right now, it felt like a scream against Adrien's ears. His eyes snapped up to see Nathaniel's face. It looked like he was going to cry. Just like that, tears pricked at Adrien's own eyes, his vision blurring. "Okay… Thank you."
It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't even close. But it was acknowledgement. It was recognizing Adrien's guilt and, even if it wasn't accepted, it was known. And that… that was more than he deserved, really. The tightness in his chest loosened slightly, and tears ran freely down his face. Not many, but just enough to say he was crying. Nathaniel blinked back tears of his own, taking another step back. He wanted to leave, that much was painfully clear. He took another step away.
"I won't tell anyone," Nathaniel said, trying for the life of him to keep his voice both steady and audible. "About Chat Noir."
Adrien didn't miss how his voice wavered even more at the name, and a part deep down inside him shriveled. He'd never wanted his name, real or fake, to cause such a reaction. To cause such fear. Before he could say another word, Nathaniel nodded in farewell and walked away, still tense, still scared. He moved quickly, trying to leave as fast as he could without drawing attention.
It felt like a failure. But... was it really? He'd apologized, and had that recognized, if not forgiven. He had the promise that his identity would be safe. That was the bare minimum for success, wasn't it? He'd done the things he'd set out too, if not to the extent he'd have hoped.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't all fixed.
But it was a start.
Marc sat quietly, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee. To his right was Nathan, who was sketching something in his notebook. Everything was quiet. Everything was calm. It was peaceful, which really just made the contrast in his head even more distinct. He hummed softly, letting his eyes slip closed. They were the first two there, but more would be coming.
It had been a few more weeks since he'd been Akumatized, about… three and a half? In that time, Nathan (and he'd helped, a little), had organized a... club? Group, maybe? It was just a time where those who'd been affected by Hawkmoth, not just directly, but in any way, even things like being targeted or put in danger or… or being hit by Reverser.
It was open to anyone, really, but… it was really just meant to give people a place they could go. Be themselves. The group had only existed for two weeks, only existing inside the school despite attempts to bring it into the open, and this was only the third time it had gotten together, but it was going well, he thought. People could just… talk. Vent, if they wanted to, and someone was willing to listen. Hang out and spend time with those who understood them. The first meeting had started off… awkward. But given time, everything smoothed itself out. It ended up being fun. Or, well, it looked like it would be.
Marc hadn't really done much outside of sitting in his spot in the corner, writing the occasional sentence, but… it had helped him. With all the people, all the distractions, he'd been able to ignore the… aftereffects of being Akumatized.
He knew that everyone had them, little problems and things that they all had to deal with, but... that didn't help the anxiety and fear he felt. That didn't help it go away.
Now, in the silence, with just the scratch of pencils on paper, it was… loud. It was a nagging, persistent feeling. There was the, apparently, common feeling of helplessness. The sensation of being weak and powerless. It drew you back into the memory of power, of how… how amazing it had been. It was a longing, a want for the reassurance and ability and safety that the Akuma gave you. There was an empty space inside, yearning to be filled. He didn't feel it too much. It was there, yes, and it hurt a bit, and it was hard to ignore, but he'd been getting better at it. He could live with it. He'd have to.
The real problem was different, but just slightly. He hadn't told anyone, hadn't sought the reassurance that he needed. He wasn't sure if this was something others felt, but it terrified him. And... he was scared of how they would react. Instead of the insistent ache from the removal of the Akuma, of the powers, this was a sharp, slow scraping along the edges of his being. Like... the contents of his skull, his thoughts, feelings, his mind, were being scraped out, the bone hollowed. The empty spaces were expanding even as the rest of his mind was caving into the holes and filling them back up.
Needles scraped along his skull, and they chipped away at him. That would be bad enough, but... he knew why it was there. He knew why he was breaking. And it was the reason that terrified him the most.
He missed Hawkmoth.
It had taken a while for him to come to the conclusion, but he was sure that he was right. It wasn't like how you would miss a friend, or even want something back. It was more like… for your whole life, there was something in the corner of the room. Always. And one day, it disappears, and you just…
It's weird, almost wrong, and you skirt around the empty space as if it was still present- until, perhaps, you managed to forget it was ever there at all. There was still that little point in his head where he was sure there should be something more, there should be a presence, just a hint of life. There should be a little impression of feelings coming hand in hand with a voice, not something to be heard out loud, but more of an impression of thoughts, an extension of your own being. There was the place in his head left unstable, left fragile and broken, without the supporting pillars Hawkmoth had provided.
Marc could remember his time as Reverser, he could remember the agony and fear he'd felt when Hawkmoth had taken back his presence, had left him alone.
He'd thought he was going to die.
This wasn't anywhere close to that level, but it was an ever present reminder. A warning. A threat that at any time could grow into something more, into something that could destroy him. It was held back, just barely, from tearing him apart. He couldn't tell anyone. He was sure they would understand, or, at least Nathaniel would, but... they all hated Hawkmoth. And Marc... he couldn't bring himself to hate him anymore. He didn't like him, not even close, but... he just couldn't think clearly on it anymore. Hawkmoth kept him stable. The ever-present ache just served as a reminder that if Hawkmoth was there, it would get better. It would be okay again. He wanted to hate Hawkmoth, he really did, but... he couldn't. Dislike was the strongest feeling he could muster. They would probably understand, but… he couldn't tell them. Just in case.
The door opened, and his head snapped up, eyes opening wide. How long had he been distracted? His frantic heartbeat slowed a bit as he recognized the faces of classmates. To his surprise, Adrien was among the small group. Marc bit his lip, glancing at Nathan. The scratchings of the pencil had stopped. Nathan was focused on Adrien, pencil held tightly in his hand, nearly to the point of snapping. Marc didn't think he was even breathing. He reached out hesitantly, resting a hand atop Nathan's.
He blinked, turning to Marc as he snapped out of his daze. Marc smiled softly, trying to reassure him. He wasn't sure what had happened between the two, but he knew the problems had started just after Reverser. He couldn't recall anything that he'd caused involving those two together, he didn't think he'd even seen Adrien, but he still felt like it was his fault. It probably was. A lot of things were.
"Red? Are you okay?" he whispered. Nathan hesitated, before nodding.
"Yeah." It was soft and fragile, but it was sure. "Yeah, I'm okay."
Nathaniel looked over to where Adrien had sat, as far from them as he could be, and Marc followed his gaze. Adrien was looking back, concern and guilt written across his face. Nathaniel managed a small, tense smile and tiny wave, more a simple movement of his hand, and relief and hope flooded Adrien's face. He smiled, tentative and hesitant, giving a small wave back.
It wasn't long before chatter, indistinct from the mingling of conversations and melding of sound, filled the room. Marc sat back, enjoying the background noise but having no interest in joining in. He preferred to be included, just... not entirely. He would join a conversation, but he never led one. The mindless sounds and presence of people tended to sooth over the panic and pain he felt, even the feeling of needles in his head reduced itself to a small scratching, something far easier to ignore.
Everything was calm. Everything was peaceful.
And then the door creaked open.
The conversations slowed, then stopped entirely. Chloe stood in the doorway.
She was just as pristine as usual, and even her posture carried the feeling of 'I'm better than you', but as soon as everyone's attention was on her, she seemed to shrink. It was barely noticeable, a slight hesitation, perhaps regret, flickered over her. The room grew tense, everyone seeming to expect the worst. Chloe remained in the doorway, and Marc could almost see the question in her eyes. Should I try, since I've come this far? Or would it be best if I leave?
Slowly, hesitantly, Nathaniel waved.
A while later, things were still tense, but... less so. Chloe had stolen Nathaniel's chair when he had gone to talk to the others, so she now sat beside Marc. She ignored him for the most part. That was an improvement from the insults and threats she gave others. Really, she seemed to ignore everyone. Her eyes were closed, but he thought she was still paying attention. She didn't lash out, though, she just sat and listened to the noise, as he was.
She left a while later.
The next club meeting, she was there. She listened, or thought, or meditated- whatever it was she was doing. She didn't act out. She didn't speak. In the halls, she would still be a bit hurtful sometimes, but for the most part, she ignored them all. But she always came to the meetings, and she listened. Marc couldn't help but wonder if the noise helped her as it helped him, or if she just needed to think. Either way, after so long with her silent, unmoving presence at his side, he was surprised when she opened her eyes one day, a few minutes past the time she usually left.
She didn't stand or move to leave. She just watched, eyes searching, desperate. It was like she was looking for something, hoping for something that just wasn't there. A reason, maybe? To lash out? To leave?
She calmed down a few minutes after that. She just sat, slipping to and from the near meditative, closed off state to a searching, attentive one. After a moment more, she looked at him, and he jumped, used to being passed over or forgotten. He didn't see disgust, or anger, or anything like that in her eyes. There was something still there, but it was calmer. More passive. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again immediately. She left a moment later, slipping quietly from the room.
Marc watched as she left, thoughts swirling in his head.
Maybe... things were going to get better.
Maybe things were going to be okay.
It was all changing so quickly, but perhaps it was for the best. Only time could tell, but he felt... hopeful. It was all changing, so different from what it had been just a short time ago. Some things had gotten worse, but... perhaps the good would outweigh that. They'd know for sure, given time.
For now, they had hope.