Author's note: Once more, thanks for the reviews!

/

Emilie would likely have objected more fervently to the cover story were it not for her own eagerness to be able to get back to a regular life. If she doesn't complain, it's quite clear that she's not overly content either. Thankfully, it doesn't become a contentious point and she agrees to go along with it comparatively willingly.

It's quite a complicated operation to reintegrate the woman into society, if only because it has to look like an accident. So, Nathalie whose talent for these things will never cease to astonish Adrien, starts a few rumors on social media. A woman resembling Emilie Agreste was recently seen at Charles de Gaulle airport. Some, claim to have seem a blonde woman moving inside the mansion through the top windows. Within a few hours, the internet is a wash of gossip and speculation. By the end of the first day, there are some extra paparazzi outside. The next day, it's impossible for any of the residents to set foot outside without being faced with a barricade of microphones and flash photography.

Yesterday, they made a statement: Emilie Agreste has indeed returned to them.

Since then, the mansion's been in lockdown. Outside, there's a veritable swarm of journalists the likes of which they haven't seen since the woman first disappeared. Nathalie is in the study dealing with the legal side of things. Most notably, she's dealing with the police who perhaps predictably have a few questions regarding the supposedly missing woman who has seemingly miraculously turned up. She's been talking with them for the past three hours now.

Adrien lies quietly on the couch. Another disturbed night's sleep makes him sleepy. He excuses himself by claiming that it's the exams that he just finished which have taken a lot out of him, that much isn't a lie either. With the press here, Marinette isn't able to pay as many visits as she usually would. Nathalie is busy and Plagg is forced to keep a low profile on account of Emilie. Macaroon is lying on his back, legs in the air, snoring loudly next to the sofa. It's a comical sight, if a current one. The teen mindlessly rubs the dog's belly as he himself struggles to find any rest. It must be that confounded portrait with his father still looking down at him.

He shifts slightly, pressing his head against some of the cushions in the hopes that it would be able to shield him some more from the light or the noise from outside.

"Tired again?"

He recognizes that soft voice easily. Green eyes open partially to see the familiar form of a blonde haired woman. He makes the effort to sit up, trying to give the impression that all is well. He doesn't want anyone worrying about him. He's pretty sure that he's too late as far as Marinette's concerned and Nathalie has been aware for years now but his mother? He wants her to think that he's still her little boy. Everything's just fine.

He offers the woman a smile which evidently fails to conceal his half-awake state. She hesitates a moment before making a move towards the couch. His brain is sluggish, it takes him a few moments to shift, making some room for her to settle down next to him. Despite his best efforts, this still seems decidedly strange to him. He tries to act normal but that's all it is.

"Acting" is something he's been doing for what feels like most of his life. First he'd been perfect Adrien Agreste, sometimes a cocky black clad feline superhero, he'd been Dylan for a while too… For three years, he'd been able to more or less be who he was. He fits in as something as an odd mix between the three past lives, an imperfect blend. Some of it no doubt can also be attributed to the fact that he's maturing. He's not a child anymore. His days of innocence are far behind him. Like most people, he keeps his secrets and tries not to wear his heart on his sleeves but at the very least, he no longer feels obliged to be someone else. Although from time to time, he does somewhat wish that he was. With his mother however, things are different. There are things he plainly doesn't want her to know. He wants her to think that he's still the same, smiling boy in that photo that's so dear to both of them.

His mother peers at him. She doesn't attempt to conceal her concern from him. He shies away, unwilling to face the consequences of his parent seeing past the disguise which he's spent so long perfecting.

"Are you okay sweetie?" The woman asks somewhat hesitantly. "You seem, I don't know…"

There are no words for it but he knows what she means: "not right".

He isn't right. How could he possibly be right? So much has happened which she remains blissfully unaware of. From time to time, they come back to haunt him. Sometimes, he can associate them with certain events which trigger them. Others, he can be fine, feel fine and then suddenly in a heartbeat, everything changes. He doesn't know why.

Nathalie and Marinette help in different ways. The former because she knows what troubles him and how to deal with it, as much as it can be dealt with. She's a comfort. If he needs to talk, they talk. If he'd rather have some peace and quiet, then she gives it to him. She doesn't abandon him though, she's always nearby should he suddenly need her. His girlfriend is different. He doesn't know if she talks to his carer but he has never burdened her with some of the pains of his existence. When she's around, they tend to fade away. He doesn't know what it is about the girl, if it's her miraculous or simply something innately magical about the person but she's able to somehow ward off his troubles. If she's nearby, there are no monsters.

"It's just exams…" It's not the truth but perhaps not entirely a lie. "Things are kind of stressful at the moment."

"I'm sure this isn't helping." Emilie glances out the window as if she half expected to see a photographer pressed up against the glass.

"Yeah but I want things to go back to the way that they were. It's not fair that you're cooped up in here..."

"It's nice to know that you still worry about your old mother."

Adrien dares to look at her. How can the woman be just as he remembers? Perhaps because she fell into a coma. Five years has passed for him but as far as she's concerned, that was only a few weeks ago. It must be strange. Almost like being frozen in time and then awoken in some strange future. He wonders if this is what she envisioned half a decade ago.

He opens his mouth, eager to speak, to express himself. It feels as if there's a terrible weight on his heart. It's everything that he's ever wanted to tell her and since she's disappeared that's only been growing. For the life of him however, he doesn't know where to start. It's tempting to just try dumping everything on her shoulders. Mother knows best after all. He stops himself however. It isn't fair for another to bear his burden, especially when she had no part (at least not a conscious and willing one) in its formation.

Instead, he opts for a very simple statement:

"I missed you..."

Her gaze softens but she says nothing. She must have known. They were so close before. He feels awkward, clumsy in an odd way. As a boy, he'd dreamed that their reunion would see things going back to the way that they had once been, as if somehow magically erased. He knows now that's impossible. Shifting slightly, he rubs his arms uncomfortably awaiting a response. It must be hard for her as well. He's not the person that he once was and knows that he can't go back.

He peers at the woman out of the corner of his eye, curious to see her reaction, how she's taking all of this. He finds himself faced with a compassionate look but one which hides something else, an understanding. He realizes that his excuses might not be as effective as he had hoped that they were. He looks away, somewhat ashamed by the lies that he's being forced to tell his own mother of all people.

"There's something that you're not telling me. A lot of things..." She frowns a little. "It's troubling you."

"How can you tell?" Adrien questions, turning back to look at her, genuinely curious.

"I'm your mother."

She stresses that last word as if it means everything in the world and, to him, it does.

He's wanted her back for so long. Nathalie had made things better. Man is gentle and kind but in a different way to his mother. His parent is more openly affectionate. She radiates warmth like sunshine. It's enough to begin to thaw some of the ice which despite himself, has settled around his heart. The anger which sometimes lingers dissipates along with the fear. Only tiredness remains. He sits there, wondering just how he came to be in such an odd situation and just why they're dancing around like this.

The teen can feel his resolve beginning to waver.

"So much has happened since you left." He uses the term simply because right now, he doesn't have a better one.

"I can tell…" Her mutter contains a painful regret. "I don't know what's on your mind Adrien but please, let me help. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I don't want to see you upset."

He turns to look at her and this time doesn't look away. Are there tears behind his eyes? He can't quite tell. There's a pain in his chest, that's for sure and he wants rid of it, come what may. His lower lip trembles slightly. He's been instructed to keep quiet about certain matters. His identity must remain a secret, even from his mother. His own shame and embarrassment prevent him from speaking freely about the rest: the nightmares and the fear and anger which just come without him wanting or being able to control it.

How could she understand? He doesn't want her to understand.

He reaches for Macaroon stroking the dog. It serves to calm him a little. His mother's still there. If anything, his attempt to reach for the nearest source of comfort only seems to have confirmed in her mind that something's terribly wrong. He can feel her gaze burrowing into him. Its weight is tangible.

Perhaps… Just a couple of words. Maybe that would help. The same way that Nathalie knows how to calm him down and what he needs, he wonders if his mother might be able to do the same.

"I…" His voice trails off for a moment, he takes a gulp. "Things have been rough."

"Rough, how?" She continues to pry gently but insistently.

"Just-" Words don't seem to come and he feels like screaming. "There's all this stuff in my head!"

"Yes, honey but what sort of "stuff"?"

He wants to tell her. Needs to get this out of him. It's physically burning at him. He feels as if he might be about to burst, as if everything that's kicking around inside of him is about to come out. Will it help him or break him? He doesn't know. It's unbearable though. His mother's gaze remains focused on him. It's asking quietly, promises to make everything better again if he just opens up and lets her know what's on his mind.

The eighteen-year-old looks to his mother. He's anxious and fiddles with his ring, trying to take his attention off of matters at hand. There's a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to come pouring out. He knows that he won't be able to stop them if even a couple escape.

Just then, the door opens. It's Nathalie. She's finished with the police it would seem. Her gaze falls upon mother and son. As usual, her expression (or apparent lack of one) gives no clues as to just what is going through her mind.

"Man!" He breathes it out a little too eagerly.

Her attention travels over to him. The teen pushes himself up off of the couch, almost stumbling over Macaroon as he does so. In a flash, he remembers who he is and what he can and cannot do. He can breathe again. His pains and anxiety don't vanish but at least they're not as omnipresent as they had been only a few moments ago. He no longer feels like the dam's about to burst. When Nathalie's around, it's reinforced with concrete and cement.

"They're about ready for the statement." Nathalie announces, formal as always.

"Right! Better go get ready. I'll put Macaroon in my room, we don't want him escaping again." The teen is quick to dart out the door. "Come on boy!"

Macaroon charges past almost colliding with Nathalie as he attempts to catch up with his owner. Adrien's laugh can be heard as the dog's claws scratch on the marble as he desperately tries to stop himself. It's astonishing how the boy's entire demeanor can change on a time. How much was real and what was an act, it was hard to say.

Nathalie shakes her head as there's a crash. She doesn't even want to know who collided with what… Instead, she makes her way towards the door. There's a lot that needs to be done and they only have a few minutes before they're due outside.

Without warning however, Emilie steps in, blocking her way. Somewhat startled, Nathalie takes a single step backwards, eager to put some room between the two of them. She's not overly fond of people getting into her personal space. It's not hostility which lies behind the other woman's green eyes so much as something else, concern maybe? There can be little doubt what or rather who is the cause of her distress. Silence lasts only for a few moments before they reach the heart of the issue:

"What's wrong with him?" The woman nods in the direction where Adrien had just left.

"Nothing that gets better when poked." Nathalie's response was flat but firm. "He's had a rough time-"

"Funny, that's exactly what he said." If she'd been expecting or waiting for a response, the assistant doesn't dignify her with one. "I don't want to trouble him so maybe you can tell me what's happened to my son?!"

"It's been five years Emilie. Losing you hit him and his father hard."

It's all the explanation which Nathalie is willing to offer at this particular point in time. It's all any of them can afford with so many uncertainties as to just how this whole mess started in the first place.

She makes another, more forceful attempt to exit the room. A brief look is all that it takes for Emilie to back down. She says nothing, stepping backwards to allow the other woman to pass. As long as there are secrets, they cannot be open with one another. It's a snake biting its own tail and Nathalie knows that they haven't heard the last of it...