Hey guys. Sorry for disappearing there. Got a little overwhelmed with the current state of the world is all. I don't know when I'm going to have a consistent update schedule again, but I hope you'll bear with me.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Nine

Gabriel restrained himself. When he received the news notification that Paris was under attack once again, he kept from springing to his feet with a shout of his transformation phrase, though his heart screamed at him to do just that. Instead, he dismissed the notice and continued his work. Finally, it seemed that his jumpsuit was coming together. It needed a change of silhouette and a different fabric material along with it. He'd spent well over a week on the design, but it was difficult to feel the long-awaited relief of an artistic breakthrough when he knew what was happening elsewhere.

He was waiting for Conspiracy. So far, Volpina was attacking alone, and since he wasn't officially "with" Ladybug and Chat Noir just yet, he figured it was best to respond with less consistency, at least until they figured out how to situate Hawkmoth within this already much-confused dynamic. The public didn't trust him after his first sighting on the heroic side of the fight, and he could only wonder what they would think of a second. For now, he would lay low until he was certainly needed. It went against everything he was feeling now, this gravity pulling him towards the fight, but caution would benefit him. That's what he told himself anyway. He was doing this for his family in the first place, and in the midst of such a precarious situation, caution would benefit them.

It would benefit Nathalie, who tended to want what he wanted. She set herself ablaze the other day and he couldn't help but think that it was somehow his fault, if watching him leap head-first into the fray made her eager to throw herself down beside him. The thought was terrifying to him, of Nathalie pushing too hard, going too far. She would if he went first, she might if he went at all. It hadn't been long enough since he'd learned the hard way, just how much she was willing to give. Things had changed, he knew, but to learn they hadn't changed enough would shake him from his roots.

His miraculous pulsed rapidly. All morning he had sensed something like a storm on the horizon, the rumble of thunder so deep and so distant that it was less of a sound and more of a perception of something coming buried in one's center of gravity. There was the building of anger, not that born of spontaneous or senseless misfortunate, but marinating in resentment, something that was growing sourer with time. He would have ignored emotions like this several years ago, for the most useful to him were those that left victims prone to impulsivity. But now that he was meant to hang back and wait until he was needed, he was realizing how threatening these deep-seated emotions were. He'd be more likely to catch a fire with those bright and sudden sparks, but the malevolent and embittered could hold the flame for longer, burning and burning and burning…

The minutes ticked by and there was no mention of Conspiracy. Gabriel grew only more restless until he had told himself that having Nooroo nearby would be helpful, especially if he was needed very immediately. He quit his atelier and ascended the staircase, cell phone clutched uncomfortably tight in his fist as he waited for a news update.

Nathalie heard his approach and called out to him. Gabriel found her in the nursery, sitting on the floor with the grimoire, her tablet, and an open journal filled with hastily written notes spread out in front of her. She held a pen in her teeth and the baby in one arm, who was wide awake and blinked at her father pausing in the doorway.

"How long have you been at this?"

"Not long. I'm just organizing some things," she mumbled around the pen. Her free hand smoothed a wrinkled page of the journal, smudging some of the ink.

"Nathalie." She met his eyes and saw something grim within them, because her previously neutral expression darkened. "Volpina's attacked once again."

In her moment's hesitation, her shoulders tensed up. "Has she?"

"Yes, the school, so I've heard." He searched the room with his gaze. "Where is Nooroo?"

She spat the pen out into her hand. "I sent him after a potion I made earlier. I think I got some of its descriptors wrong." As if on cue, the kwami passed over Gabriel's shoulder, holding a vial that looked awfully similar to Nathalie's medicine, if a little greener in color. He passed off the potion, which she stared at for a moment before setting it down on the carpet. Then, she crossed something out on the page. "Here he is."

"Hello, master," Nooroo greeted softly, dipping his head. The baby attempted to grab him, and he moved out of reach without even looking at her.

"There's been an attack, Nooroo. I'd like you near me."

"Yes, master."

"Are you planning on going out, then?" Nathalie questioned. Her voice was level, but somehow, Gabriel could sense a wrinkle of fear within them, perhaps in the speed with which she spoke."Is that a good idea after what happened last time?"

"Marinette suggested that I give it as many shots as it takes to gain at least some of the city's trust."

"I understand that, but—" Nathalie cut herself off, shaking her head. "What am I saying? Ignore me. This certainly won't end anytime soon if you're not there to assist them."

A pang of sympathy spread through his chest. Gabriel sat on the floor across from his wife and smiled at her reassuringly. "I doubt Volpina is out there doing anything on her own terms, but I won't go out if Conspiracy never shows."

She gave him a small, doubtful smile. "You say that now..."

"Am I so fickle?"

"No. You're quite determined, rather, but while I can appreciate your restraint, I know what you really want. I'll accept that waiting is your plan now, but I anticipate you won't want to stand by for long."

"Nathalie…"

"What? You're just similar to me, and you know I wish I could do more to help you all."

He swept his eyes purposefully over the mess she had made on the carpet. "What are you talking about? You're doing more than enough."

Nathalie started to bounce the baby gently in her arm as she stared at him silently. She didn't look like she wanted to have this conversation again, as much as he was certain the words lingered on her tongue. Changing Nathalie's mind surely had to be one of the most impossible things, but she took pity on him this time. She said nothing.

"I'm confident that the more Volpina appears, the more the city will begin to question her story. I'd be surprised if there weren't some skeptics out there already," he said.

"May I remind you of how many times you have akumatized certain people, Gabriel?" she near-whispered, blue eyes sharp but playful.

He flushed. "Is it really not so out of character for me to make so foolish a choice as to target one person three times consecutively?"

Nathalie shrugged.

"The difference between Volpina and Mr. Pigeon," he began, and the corner of her lip lifted in amusement at his defensiveness, "is that as long as Volpina is visible, she is completely non-threatening. It's a logically flawed decision to akumatize her and send her out to personally engage in battle."

"I won't insist on sullying your dignity," his wife replied. "Rather, I must admit that you are right to an extent. You have akumatized Lila into Volpina more than once in the past, but the public only knew of her involvement once, the first time. Every other instance, she concealed herself. This is...different. I would think everyone would begin to catch on."

"We can only hope, though I am sure they would sooner doubt my sanity than they would her story. If Ladybug and Chat Noir would only question her themselves—"

"They must be careful of giving too much away."

"I know. But if Volpina is being reckless, then their own risks are more reasonable."

Nathalie pursed her lips. "I suppose that's true."

They became anxious waiting for word of Conspiracy's arrival, but twenty minutes elapsed of nothing new. Gabriel watched as Nathalie scanned her notes, occasionally crossing things out, drawing arrows across the page, checking something on her tablet, but Gabriel could tell her mind wasn't in the work. She glanced up from her paper often, looking to his face or a space on the wall. She rolled the greenish vial across the carpet with her palm. At one point, she rose to put Anaïs in her crib, only to retrieve her again several minutes later. Gabriel, meanwhile, kept checking his phone for any kind of update, but he received nothing. Nothing at all.

At last, he chose to watch the live broadcast. Maybe he had missed something, and Conspiracy had been there for much time already, but all he could see was Ladybug and Chat Noir locked in battle with Volpina, who continuously created illusions of bricks or stones or something launching their way towards the heroes at a lightning fast speed, so that even as Gabriel knew they weren't real, he would flinch each time one of them made contact with Ladybug or Chat. Volpina was getting creative, that was for sure.

But there was no Conspiracy. No shadowy figure flickering to and fro. Gabriel bit his lip and gave himself three minutes to watch, minutes that passed at a snail-pace, until he sighed, dropped his phone into his pocket and rose to his feet.

"Are you going?" Nathalie asked him.

"You were right, my love," he replied, gazing at her in apology. "I can't wait any longer. It doesn't look like they have the upper hand anyway. Conspiracy or no Conspiracy, they could use my help."

"Very well." She stood up too, kicking both the grimoire and the journal closed with her foot. Nooroo, from where he had been sitting on the windowsill, drifted towards his master, trying to offer both an encouraging smile.

"Nooroo, wings rise!"

"Good luck," Nathalie said, once Hawkmoth had appeared in the nursery.

Before leaving, he pressed his lips to hers, and he could taste her fear in the way she kissed him back, with force and anguish and desperation that emerged slowly, subtly, like grass out of snowmelt. When she pulled back, he grabbed her by the wrist and gazed at her silently, hoping she would understand by the look in his eyes that the last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid. She could read his mind like she could always read his pain, and so he hoped he was listening to the words bounding through his mind, I'll be okay.

"Alright, Baby Girl," he murmured, reaching down to run his gloved fingers down the curve of his daughter's rounded cheeks. "Take two, huh?"

She babbled, turned her head into his palm.

"Take two," whispered Nathalie.

He parted with another kiss and flew out into the daylight, cane grasped tightly in his fist. He cleared the wall surrounding his property and landed in the middle of the street. Living on a quieter avenue than he used to, there were luckily no pedestrians or drivers to notice him emerge from his own house. He took a moment to evaluate his sense of direction, before turning his body downhill. The news broadcast showed that the fight had drifted from the school towards the Eiffel Tower, so that was where he would make his way.

As his feet pounded against the asphalt, he branched his mind out farther and faster than his legs could carry him, seeking out a potential ally. If he akumatized someone, and did it for the right reasons, that might work in his favor, but even as his power brushed up against multiple determined and righteously angry minds, he was reminded that there was likely nobody out there he could take under his wing without force. His previous victims could hardly resist his pull, and he compelled them viciously if they pushed back. That wasn't the heroic thing to do. The correct use of his power entailed the full consent of his akuma victims – candidates.

That girl who ran the Ladyblog would be perfect, but her scathing response to his last public appearance was a warning that she would never accept his offer on her own terms. And he doubted anyone else would. Hawkmoth twirled his cane in his hand. Hopefully, he could manage to make a clearer statement this time.

He launched himself up to the rooftops of Paris and bounded from building to building towards the iron landmark calling his name. Through the rush of wind past his ears, he heard the occasional blare of a horn or surprised shout by an onlooker. One pedestrian dove behind a parked car with a squeal of panic, and though Hawkmoth could not prevent himself from rolling his eyes, he also failed to neglect the pinch of guilt within him, that his very presence incited such fear among those he shared a city with. But he could not be shocked, and so the feeling was fleeting. He ignored the reactions. The streets were slowly clearing anyway now that most were aware of there being an attack.

As he neared the tower, he felt the gentle beats of emotion emanating from the scene of the fight. He recognized the wrath of his son, a hot and quick anger that rushed like the pulse of footsteps, and suddenly Hawkmoth could practically see Chat Noir's movement as though he were there beside him. The thought struck him to akumatize his son. Surely, there could be no better approach than to offer his power to one of the city's heroes to fight against a common enemy. The idea sparked a fiery resolve within him, and he moved faster, faster. He couldn't get there soon enough.

A flash of darkness passed over Hawkmoth's head. He gasped, ducking, and fell short of the next ledge. His foot slipped, sending him sailing towards the ground. His magical strength eased the force of the impact, but his cane dropped out of his grip, spiraling across the asphalt.

You!

He sprang to his feet, wasting no time by grabbing the hilt of his cane and ripping the rapier out of its sheath. He spun around to find the exact man he'd been expecting, heavy wings crashing against the ground as he dropped from the sky onto the street. Black eyes bored straight into Hawkmoth's soul, empty and chillingly emotionless.

"Hello, again."

Hawkmoth gritted his teeth, holding his blade erect. He planted his feet firmly.

Conspiracy took a step forward, lowering his chin into his throat. "I was waiting for you."

"Were you?" Without taking his eyes off the raven-miraculous holder, Hawkmoth made himself aware of his surroundings. They had landed on a rather quiet street. He had no way of knowing if anyone was watching from inside the buildings that flanked them, but he wondered what the world would make of a second hostile interaction between himself and his mysterious opponent. His face fell into a scowl. "I'm astonished that you would choose to spend your energy on me while you send your little minion after the objects of your endeavor."

Conspiracy's eyes narrowed. The feathers on his wings gave a small rustle, and the tip of the lowermost blade shrieked against the ground. "Subordinate she may be, her malice makes her quite effective."

"I'm aware," Hawkmoth replied, "of its power."

There was something odd in Conspiracy's tone of voice, and Hawkmoth couldn't quite put his finger on it. They'd exchanged few words during their first encounter, but he remembered the man sounding sharper, a sentence like the swipe of a knife through the air. Whatever emotion seeped through Conspiracy's voice now, it was softer, lighter, but to try to name it was futile.

Not to mention Conspiracy had been quick and deliberate, at any moment ready to fade away and reappear elsewhere, but he seemed more solid and tangible now than ever, and during the pause that followed Hawkmoth's words, he appeared to be sizing him up, unprepared to make and attack.

"Does she know what you think of her?" growled Hawkmoth, squeezing the hilt of his rapier.

"Oh…" Conspiracy held out his wings. "She's a smart girl, and from what I hear, this isn't the first time she's been in a position like this."

Behind him, the quiet road they were standing on intersected with a busier street. Hawkmoth squinted his eyes and flexed his grip around the sword. Still, Conspiracy didn't appear as though he was about to make any move, but Hawkmoth doubted a direct attack would be successful. His patience waned as he stared his enemy down from several meters away, searching for any indication of thought in the glassy, ink-colored surface of his glare.

A moment later, realizing it was on him to be the first to act, bent his knees and vaulted backwards, down the gentle slope of the road he was standing on. Conspiracy lunged after him, propelling himself with a beat of his wings behind his back. Not wanting to lose sight of his opponent, Hawkmoth refused to turn away, so when a car turned onto the street and began making towards them, he winced at the bark of the horn and fell nearer to the sidewalk. Conspiracy vanished before he could sail through the windshield of the vehicle, re-materializing again once it had passed and leaving the car to come to a screeching halt. Hawkmoth regained his footing and continued on.

But Conspiracy proved to be faster. After catapulting himself from the ground to a tree above Hawkmoth's head, Conspiracy dove towards him, forcing Hawkmoth a few paces back uphill with a sweep of a wing inches from the back of his silver head. Hawkmoth cursed and leaped further down the hill only to be driven back up once more. Every swing of his rapier was dodged, rather than parried by Conspiracy's collection of feather-shaped blades. The raven-miraculous holder remained as elusive as ever, and Hawkmoth meant nothing but empty air, a far more frustrating plight than to be blocked.

By now, Conspiracy remained consistently downhill of Hawkmoth, which would put the latter at an advantage if the former wasn't so outrageously difficult to get around. Already, Conspiracy took up a lot more space, despite being multiple inches shorter than Hawkmoth, with the impressive span and danger of his weapons. He fought less offensively now than Hawkmoth remembered him to, but his speed and power and threatening aspect continued to work in his favor.

Eventually, Hawkmoth was pushed as far back as he had come, and then even further. His heart raced, less so with exertion as it did with the rush of anger firing through his blood that he was being deterred from the direction of the larger battle. Perhaps Conspiracy wanted him all to himself. Perhaps he didn't want to give Hawkmoth the chance of clearly demonstrating his allegiance, choosing instead to engage in a chase that was sure to baffle the public rather than assure them of anything. If only he could land a decisive blow or get ahold of that miraculous! Conspiracy hadn't even flashed it this time around, but Hawkmoth could still imagine that chain dangling from his concealed wrist.

After hurling his blade through the air with such force that it struck the ground, Hawkmoth peeled off into an alley to break away from the area. The thump of Conspiracy's footsteps behind him faded into silence, and Hawkmoth came to a sudden halt as he reformed at the other end of the alleyway, reminding him that with such a power, it would be impossible to make it very far at all.

Conspiracy rose a wing to strike and flew towards Hawkmoth. Those many blades sliced through the shadowed space they shared, but tore into nothing as Hawkmoth ducked low and nearly lost his balance trying to rise again.

Coming to a stop, an eerie laugh tricked from Conspiracy's mouth. He turned around. "I don't want to hurt you," he rumbled. "If you would just stay put…"

Hawkmoth scoffed. He slithered forward and swung his rapier, but Conspiracy vanished only to reappear several meters away.

"I mean it," he said.

He charged again and was as unsuccessful. He didn't understand why Conspiracy wouldn't end a fight he had such an advantage over. Hawkmoth's breathing was labored now, but his opponent seemed as calm and energized as before. Envy and rage and fear crept under his skin. He spat onto the ground as if he could expel the emotion from his body.

Conspiracy, upon seeing Hawkmoth raise the rapier once again over his head, surged forward. Hawkmoth veered suddenly to the side to avoid him, crashing shoulder-first into the wall. The tip of his blade scratched against the earth and fumbled out of his hand. His fingers curled into a head joint of the wall as he fought to keep his balance. Conspiracy spun around and rushed back again.

Just as Hawkmoth secured his grip around the hilt of his rapier, Conspiracy raised his wings into the air. Hawkmoth let out a yelp and they ripped into the brick behind his head, trapping him between the wall and his enemy. Feathers fanned out threateningly, as though they moved to the wind.

He held each other's glares for several seconds of rigid stillness. Hawkmoth held his breath, fearful that any movement could be his end.

"You should be warned," Conspiracy said at last, and Hawkmoth found himself captured by the graveness of his enemy's tone, "the girl, Volpina, Lila, whatever you call her – she doesn't know it yet, but she hates you more than she hates Ladybug. I can feel it." He blinked his black eyes, leaned his face in closer. "Don't think I'm not doing you a favor by keeping you as far away from her as I can."

Hawkmoth glared at Conspiracy silently as a torch burst to life within him. Trembling with rage, he snapped, "A favor? Right, and I suppose your Sorcerer friend was doing me a favor as well when they attempted the destruction of my miraculous!" He forced Conspiracy's masked visage back several inches as he separated himself from the wall, as much as he could without catching himself on a knife's edge. "Whatever you think you are doing I guarantee it is no service. But I doubt you could be so blind and stupid to think you are helping me in any way, so if this is your attempt to deceive me, then you have pitifully failed."

Conspiracy stared, motionless.

"Who are you people?" demanded Hawkmoth.

A wing clawed its way down the wall. "One who would prefer if you stayed out of this."

Hawkmoth huffed. In anger, he raised his rapier, attempting to draw it up the front of Conspiracy's armored vest, but at once, his opponent disappeared. To Hawkmoth's terror, a high-pitched shriek, not unlike the one he had heard last time, rippled unevenly through the air. He crouched and brought his palms up to the side of his head, trying to stifle the harsh cacophony. "No!" he cried out, the sound of his own voice muffled beneath the ringing in his mind, like a siren circling closely around him. He crouched and brought his palms up to the side of his head, trying to stifle to harsh cacophony. Once more, he found his vision dizzied and his mind confused. He shut his eyes against the rotating earth and dropped his hands to press them into the ground.

Not again. How…?

Hawkmoth could feel the footsteps before he could hear them, vibrating beneath his fingertips. The weight of eyes on the top of his head. The subtle change in light beyond his fallen lids. He grappled for the rapier he hadn't known he'd dropped again only to close his fist over the blade. He hissed in pain, reaching to clutch at his miraculous instead, remembering what had happened the last time, preparing once again for that surge of lightning-hot agony.

Maybe he'd sensed the brush of a finger tip against his knuckles. With a gasp, he jerked away suddenly and struck the back of his skull against the wall behind him. A shout became lodged in his throat as the pain exploded through his head and down his neck. Footsteps. Heat. The impact had rattled him so much that he could feel the power slipping off his body as though it were no more than a cloak, and suddenly, with a warble of magic, he was no longer Hawkmoth, but Gabriel Agreste crouched in an alley. He could feel the weakness in his body. He blinked his eyes open, but dark spots rained across his vision.

And then, a bright flash of light consumed everything. Gabriel felt the earth give beneath him before rising up again and cushioning him in grass. The wall he had been leaning against fell away as easily as though the wind had knocked it over. He didn't know how but the air changed. A voice called out beneath the senseless noise in his head, "Master. Master."

"Nooroo?"

"Master!"

"What happened?"

"I – I don't know."

Gabriel blinked rapidly, trying to clear his sight of the blinding glow. His fingernails sank into soft dirt. The sun hit his back, sun that couldn't reach him just moments before. When he looked up he went tense with shock.

His garden.

What on earth…?

His house. Tall and mighty and looming over his head. Curtains swaying on the other side of open windows. A bird leaping from the chimney to take flight, its small shadow cutting across his body. Gabriel was surrounded by asphodel and mallow and marigold, and he plucked a flower off its stem just to make sure it was real. His afflicted hand sustained nothing more but a thin white line drawn halfway across his palm, and he used it to crush petals between his fingers and drop them into his lap.

"How'd we get here?"

"I don't know, Master. You detransformed, and there was a flash of light."

"You didn't do this?"

Nooroo shook his head. "No, Master! I couldn't."

Confused, Gabriel dug a palmful of dirt into his hand. Nooroo's eyes darted to and fro, the whimper in his throat a clear indication that he was just as bewildered as his holder.

"Did Conspiracy…?"

"I...I don't think so."

A moment later, Gabriel attempted to rise to his feet, but the pain in his head made him unsteady. His skull throbbed. He would need ice for it. "I - I should transform back."

"No, Master. You're hurt."

He was sinking back to the ground again, the edges of his vision darkening. "As soon as I can get to my feet without toppling over," he mumbled. "Ladybug and Chat Noir still need me to help them against Lila."

Nooroo looked uncertain.

"I hope you don't think I should heed the advice of the scoundrel that did this to me."

"No, master. Only that you are likely needed elsewhere, wouldn't you expect?" Nooroo flickered his wings and nodded at his holder's chest. Gabriel rubbed a circle into the brooch's jewel with the tip of his index finger and noticed now that Nooroo had pointed it out that there was an emotion radiating towards him from a close proximity, something familiar which he recognized belonged to Nathalie. As it pulsed through his veins, the taste of her fear formed across his tongue, sharp like thorns yet terribly sweet. She was worried for him, far too worried to let her carry on much longer waiting.

In fact, she couldn't wait. Gabriel and Nooroo looked up as the back door swung open and Nathalie appeared on the porch. She locked eyes with him, and a look of apprehension sprouted across her countenance before she hurried down the steps to his side.

"What are you – how did you—?"

"Nathalie."

A marigold flower was crushed under her foot as she stepped through the garden to reach him. Kneeling at his side, one hand clasped tightly around his upper arm, while the other, he noticed, gripped that vial he had seen earlier, the one containing a bluish-green potion. "I noticed this light," she said, "like a lightning strike. I ran to the window and you were laying out here – how did that happen? What did you do?"

"I dunno. Conspir'cy…"

Her brow furrowed with concern. "You're slurring your speech."

"I may've bashed my skull into a brick wall," he muttered, blinking at her. The sky was painfully blue above her head.

"Shit." Nathalie leaned in closer. "Where, love?"

He cradled the back of his head.

She placed her fingers gently over the place of impact, which made him grimace at the sting. "Oh," she murmured, pulling her hand back, "You're bleeding a little. Not much. It's just a scrape, but if you can't stand…"

"My Lady," Nooroo murmured gently. Gabriel glanced at the creature and found him gesturing to the capped vial in his wife's hand, which may have been trembling, but his unsteady vision made it hard to tell. Nathalie nodded at the kwami and slowly unscrewed the cap. Before Gabriel could ask what she was doing, she'd already swallowed half of its contents.

"Nathalie!"

She dropped the vial into the dirt. A second passed where she held herself stiffly, eyes pinched shut and expression contorted like it tasted sour. Then, she released a quivering exhale, her body and face relaxing.

"Nathalie?" he said once more, setting a hand on her knee.

When she opened her eyes, Gabriel flinched at their color, an unnaturally bright jade green. He'd noticed before, how in certain lighting, her sky blue eyes seemed to burn deeper in their blueness than usual whenever she took her medicine, but this was even stranger, so many shades removed from that azure he knew so well. He was stunned. Weakness made his arms shake as he tried to prop himself up higher, as if this was just some trick of the light he could foil from gazing at a different angle.

Nathalie held out her left hand and slipped it around the back of Gabriel's head, the exact place he had struck it against the wall minutes before. He gasped at the chill that ran through his body, as though her skin had become ice. And then the cold seeped through his hair, under his flesh, around his skull and down his spine as though it flowed like water through his bones. Nathalie's eyes flickered. Gabriel's spotted and disturbed vision appeared to straighten itself out, the world tilting back into place. His throbbing pain was numbed. A sigh of relief passed through his lungs…

And then his breath hitched. Stars burst across the stars and across Nathalie's face, just as it lost the tightness of concentration and fell into panic. The agony returned as though he had once again experienced the blow of collision. The chill passing through his body shuddered and gave to a stinging heat. Stunned, Gabriel's elbows buckled, and he fell onto the earth, Nathalie's hand the only thing to cushion the impact.

He groaned, shutting his eyes. He felt Nooroo's weight on his chest, and the call of his voice.

"Gabriel!" Nathalie shouted. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought I could—"

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, then brought it to his cheek, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "What was that?" he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," she said again. She lifted him and laid his head across her lap. "I – I tried to help. A healing potion, Gabriel. I found a way to make another one. Something that gives me the power to heal other people, but I guess—" Her voice broke. Gabriel's eyes fluttered open to find that the green had drained from her gaze and now they pooled with tears. "I guess I can't."

"My Lady," said Nooroo, and flew up to wipe her eye. "Don't feel bad. I guess that potion can only serve to heal miraculous-related damage."

"Nathalie." Gabriel reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry. It's okay."

She shook her head, teeth sinking into her lip. "I hurt you," she breathed. "I failed."

He assured her, "You failed at nothing. We'll just have to deal with this the non-magical way. Bring me inside. I prob'ly have a concussion. We'll call a doctor."

Taking in a deep breath, she nodded. They remained in place for a couple minutes more before Gabriel was ready to stand again, and he did so slowly, holding on to Nathalie for support. As he rose, Nooroo hid himself suddenly in Gabriel's jacket, and they glanced up to see Alain walking out the open door on his way to assist them.

"What happened?" he asked them, taking Gabriel's left arm as Nathalie took his right.

"He fell."

"I fell."

"Slipped in the garden and hit his head on the wall."

Alain sucked in air through his teeth, a pained look in his eyes. "Geez."

They led Gabriel inside and laid him across a sofa in the living room. Alain was sent away for ice while Nathalie retrieved the baby, who seemed restless as though she knew what was going on. She cooed and cried as Nathalie phoned a doctor, every now and then pulling the receiver away to ask Gabriel a question.

"You don't feel nauseous, do you?"

"No."

"Ringing in the ears?"

"Not anymore." The effects of Conspiracy's powers had long faded.

"What day of the week is it?"

"Wednesday."

Alain returned with the ice and handed it over to Gabriel. Nathalie finished her phone call with the doctor and told them that they will manage the injury at home unless Gabriel begins to show worsening symptoms. She gently shushed Anaïs when she cried out and kissed her.

"What's happening with that akuma attack?" Gabriel asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Still going on?"

"I think it's just over, actually," Alain replied, pulling out his phone to double check. "Yep. Over. And it looks like that Rossi girl is being brought in for questioning."

"What?" Gabriel and Nathalie asked in unison. They shared a look, and Gabriel caught the ripple of dread through his wife's rounded gaze just as the feeling shot through his miraculous. It was like two hearts were sinking through his chest.

"Good thing too. It's weird to be akumatized so often. Ladybug and Chat Noir need to ask what she knows."

Assured that they needed nothing else, Alain returned to the atelier to continue his work, leaving Nathalie, Gabriel, and the baby alone in the living room. Gabriel shifted the ice around in his palm and thought about how dead that kind of cold felt. Nathalie's cold was alive and moving and it breathed into his nerves. Until it didn't. He wished it hadn't stopped.

"Could this end today?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know…" he murmured. The memories of Conspiracy's black eyes and startling warnings pulsed through his mind like that incessant throb at the back of his skull. "I don't know if it'll be that easy." He knew that he could trust his son and Ladybug to say the right things, ask the right questions, but that couldn't slow the hammer of his pulse. The only way to totally incriminate her was to admit to knowing more than they were supposed to, but for the second time, Gabriel had failed to secure himself on the right side of this fight. And it was such a pathetic failure.

He could see Nathalie start to think, but then a shadow seemed to rupture across her gaze and she shut down. "No," she growled. "I don't want to…worry about it."

"Then don't."

She came closer and handed the baby over to him. Gabriel pressed Anaïs to his chest, gently massaging her back. Her tiny, scrunched up nose relaxed as round blue eyes peered softly into his. Nathalie ran her fingers through her baby's dark hair, humming. Not thinking. Humming. Not worrying. Her foot tapped with the thoughts and the worries she'd banished from her head.

Anaïs yawned.

"Baby Girl," whispered Gabriel, kissing her. He was grateful she was still too young to know the monster he used to be, too young to fear that he'd never changed. Gabriel's throat tightened while he rubbed an affectionate thumb into his baby's cheek. He wanted her to be this little forever.

Nathalie's hand came to a rest on the back of Anaïs's head, in the same place she had tried to heal Gabriel. Her humming stopped. Her fingers curled. And the thoughts rushed back.