Author's note: Thanks once more for the reviews!

/

As it turns out, there are a few things that his mother truly doesn't approve of. Swearing is one of them, although to be fair, Nathalie isn't overly fond of it either. He finds himself watching his tongue. He's borrowed some southern slang from his time as Dylan and his trips down south. It sounds strange to his mother. More than once, she's given him a somewhat baffled look and he's been forced to explain himself. He had a friend from the south. That's where he picked it up from. Yet another in a seemingly never ending stack of lies.

Adrien can bear the restrictions. They're only minor. The lies however…

His mother isn't stupid. She knows that something's up. He sees it in the way that she looks sometimes at the few scars of his he fails to conceal. She knows those weren't from a rock climbing accident, they just don't look right. Some of their tales don't quite add up right. It's clear that something's happened and yet they keep on trying to pull wool over her eyes. She's both increasingly immune and resisting ever more. It's a stress that he could do without.

He has a nightmare that night. A bad one… It sends him quivering and confused out onto the landing. Time loses its meaning. He sits there, peering at the moon as it's silvery light comes in through the glass. There's a certain beauty to it which both registers and doesn't with him. He wants to reach out his hand and touch those moonbeams. He's too tired, too weak. His hand moves lost in the air and he can't understand just why. He's struggling to tear his mind out of whatever place it goes to when he dreams.

The teen grunts, tensing up with surprise as something woolen falls over his shoulders. He looks round, still not quite awake and finds that he isn't alone. He offers the newcomer a slight smile but can't pull himself together to do anything else. She settles next to him, waiting for him to return and for the world to begin to feel real once more.

If she's here then he must have been sitting like this for a while, otherwise Plagg wouldn't have gone to fetch the woman. She rests a hand on his back before letting out a tut his shirt and hair are drenched with sweat. It isn't the first time. A few years ago, she might have assumed that he had been taken ill and try taking him to hospital, now though, it's just one of the numerous things that the woman and kwami have learned to live with. Plagg settles on his shoulder, being quiet for once in his life.

Gradually, he feels himself returning to his body. It's a strange sensation but one which leaves him lost. As he becomes aware that the room is chilly, he grows confused. That's when the company becomes essential. He reaches out, desperate for some physical contact. He needs to be reminded what's real and what isn't. He takes his hand, squeezing it slightly. It serves as an anchor of sorts as he finds himself breathing rapidly, struggling to calm himself.

Slowly, he begins to calm, down panting as everything falls back into place. Nathalie remains by his side, patient as ever:

"Grand Palais?" She guesses.

"I-It- It feels so real!" He stresses to the woman, he's told her before. "It's like I'm being crushed all over again. I can feel the metal digging into me. It even hurts! I-I wake up but I-I"

"Adrien." Nathalie speaks softly but firmly. "You're safe now. It's in the past."

He looks away, unwilling to let her see the tears behind his eyes. It's impossible to describe the terror that those simple nightmares bring him. He knows that he shouldn't afraid and yet- No matter how hard he tries, no matter what logic he applies to justify them, they remain oppressively real to him. He feels silly. There's a part of him which reasons that it's childish for him to be so affected by what art, in essence just dreams and memories. Past the age of about ten, his father had always pushed him away, telling him to get back to bed.

Nathalie is gentler with him. He wonders if she can understand or relate. Much of the Grand Palais has been wiped from her mind. She knows only what he's told her and experiencing something secondhand is never quite the same. In that respect, she's grateful for the damage that the peacock miraculous inflicted upon her. Still, he wonders if sometimes she might have nightmares of her own. The same way that he remembers what it was like to almost lose her. Somewhat ashamed, he's hesitant to approach her for the comfort that he needs, trying to console himself with Plagg's presence on his shoulder.

She's not the most tactile of people and even after all these years, there's a barrier there that she rarely breaches. If he wants something like a hug or a show of affection, usually he has to be the one to seek it out. He contents himself with her hand. She rubs his knuckles with her thumb, trying to ease him somewhat.

Slowly, his heart begins to slow. He feels himself fall back into place, one piece at a time. He closes his eyes, now his growing sense of exhaustion reminds him that he should be in bed. Still, now that Nathalie's here with him, he has something to ask:

"Can we talk? Tomorrow, I mean?"

"Of course..." She speaks softly but with a slight hint of concern which she makes no attempt to mask.

"I- It's nothing big, I just… There's something I want to talk to you about."

She nods understandingly. She'll meet him after school. They can walk back home together. It's easier than trying to sneak around inside of the mansion.

He's back in bed a short while later but still struggles to find sleep even with Plagg on the pillow next to him and Macaroon curled up somewhere on his legs, he feels restless. Some of it's the nightmare. Even with his eyes closed, warm and comfortable in his bed, he feels like he's back on the hard floor, unable to breathe with metal and glass cutting into his back, arms and legs, tearing at his skin. It still feels unbearably real. There are other things too, fears and doubts which spin around in his mind, tormenting him.

Exhausted, he's not exactly in good shape in school. He's learned to fight it. To force himself to concentrate and stay both awake and aware. Even in class however, his attention is elsewhere. He thinks about his mother, about Nathalie and about the terrible things that have happened. They haunt him day and night and somehow, all of this pretending that they never happened in order to keep his parent's conscience light is only making things worse. They're bottling up an issue and he's not too sure that he can handle the ever-mounting pressure.

Even Marinette isn't quite enough to settle his nerves. Plagg's attempts bounce off of him.

Upon seeing Nathalie waiting for him on the corner near to his high school, he feels himself relax somewhat, if only because the wait is over, he can finally say what's on his mind. After some formalities which are as familiar as they are pointless. It's inevitable that the woman notices the dark circles under his eyes. They are a source of concern for her and one which she doesn't hesitate to bring up:

"How many hours did you get last night?"

"Not enough." He doesn't even bother hiding the truth from her.

"I can see that..." Her voice trails off and he knows what's coming. "There are doctors you know. They might be able to-"

"Like they could help! I'd have to tell them about Hawk Moth, the Grand Palais… You…" He shakes his head dismissively. "They'll get better eventually."

Nathalie doesn't reply. It's been three years now and she knows what will happen if she pushes him. So she holds back.

They cross the road, getting to a somewhat quieter part of the city. Given how much this has been eating at him all day and arguably for a bit longer, Adrien is surprised by how difficult he finds it to articulate just what's on his mind. More than once, he opens his mouth but then thinks better of it. He's convinced that there's a better way to express himself but upon mature reflection is unable to think of just what it is. Nathalie's gaze is fixed on him through her peripheral vision, she knows that he has something to say but waits in silence. She's done a lot of it in her time.

Curiously, the end result is that the words simply blurt out, almost as if he's out of control:

"I think we have to come clean with mom." He speaks quickly, almost spitting it out. "Things are getting out of hand..."

He doesn't get an immediate response. It's a sure sign that Nathalie is reflecting upon the matter. In his mind, that's both good and bad. She hasn't immediately dismissed it. That means there's at least some food for thought there. On the other hand, the fact that she doesn't immediately agree indicates that she's aware that there are some complexities and other factors. She's a woman who doesn't like to go over things a hundred times, if at all possible, his health being one of the few exceptions.

He knows it's not that simple. They have their secret identities to take into account and he knows that the others are worried about just what Emilie was doing with the peacock miraculous to put herself into the coma in the first place. There's an injustice, a bitter taste at the back of his mouth every time that he tells a lie however, which is beginning to weigh heavily upon his shoulders. She isn't stupid. She must know that they're keeping secrets from her and it must hurt.

Nathalie must ponder the matter for a good two minutes before finally giving her response:

"She is getting suspicious, which I suppose is inevitable but Adrien you know we can't tell her everything..."

"Yeah but Gabriel. She deserves to know about him." Adrien paused frowning as he thought back to his father. "It would explain a lot."

So much of this was his father's fault. His misuse of the Butterfly miraculous and time as Hawk Moth casts a terrible shadow over all of them. If he had just come clean instead of embarking on that insane crusade of his… Adrien shakes his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and back into reality. Now is not the time to start thinking about such things. What counts is the fact that they're tiptoeing around to keep his identity a secret. They're still trying to pretend that nothing is wrong when the simple fact is that he is the source of almost all of their hardships.

Next to him, Nathalie shifts somewhat uneasily. She seems uncomfortable, Adrien can tell that much and it worries him. He far prefers it when she knows what to do – even if deep down, he's aware that she doesn't and she's just giving off the impression of being both in control and of having a plan. Finally, she expresses her concerns to him:

"Have you spoken to Marinette or Master Fu about this?"

"Marinette, yes but not Master Fu." Adrien grows quiet, his girlfriend had been lukewarm about the idea as well. "She thinks I should do what's right."

"Adrien… I'm sorry I'm going to have to being a bit forthright-" He winces, aware that she only speaks like that when she's about to risk hurting him. "-but has your mother put you up to this?"

At the very least Nathalie is frank with her concerns. He suspects that Marinette has them as well but she's unwilling to express them in front of him.

Adrien hesitates a moment, he's determined to give an honest answer. Whilst his first instinct might be to scream "no!" and deny it, he makes the effort of asking himself, looking back and trying objectively to establish if he might be being swayed. It seems abhorrent to him that his mother could ever use him like that. That had been his father's trick. He knows that his mother wants the truth. It's their main obstacle at the moment. How can they even attempt to live together if they're hiding things from one another?

If she gets it, even not entirely in its integrity, she'll be happy. They'll all be able to rest easier. Won't they?

"No." Adrien shakes his head to enforce his certainty. "I swear Man. She hasn't. This is all me."

Nathalie eyes him for a few moments before looking away. She says nothing, processing everything in silence. He knows better than to interrupt her. There's a grave expression on the woman's face. It's obvious to anyone who's spent any time with her that she isn't entirely comfortable with this development. Adrien doesn't want to know why.

Finally, she lets out a sigh. Perhaps he's thrust this on her shoulders a little too suddenly. A warning most certainly won't have gone amiss. At the very least, it would have presented her with a little more time to prepare herself:

"Okay but promise me, under no circumstances will you reveal your identity to her."

"I won't."

"Then I guess we'd better discuss how we're going to do this."

They both agree that ironically, it might be that the simplest option is the best: just flat out tell her. She'll probably be at home. Whilst the woman might be making increasingly more journeys outside and for a little bit longer every time, she still spends large portions of her days inside the mansion. More importantly, she doesn't have a social calendar and is therefore, by default, almost always available. They'll sit her down and have a chat, take the time that they need.

It'll be a shock. Adrien knows that much. She keeps on asking after his father. He's not sure that he has the heart to tell her what the man became to bring her back.

There's a certain apprehension which takes over him. It's Nathalie who ends up opening the door to the mansion, gesturing for him to go in. His mother isn't there to greet them which in itself is odd. Perhaps she's out. More likely she's in one of the other rooms and hasn't noticed that they've returned. The woman glances around briefly before turning back to him. Perhaps she can sense his nerves, as she suggests:

"You might want to take Macaroon for a walk first. He's not been out of your room since lunch..."

"Right." He replies quietly.

A walk will do him some good. He'll be able to gather his thoughts together and make some sense of what's to come. Just as he's about to do that, there's a creek and the door to the study is opened. It's his mother, she meets them with a beaming smile. He forces himself to respond in kind, even if his heart isn't quite in it. Rather than coming out to greet him however, she lingers for a moment, one hand still on the door, keeping it half shut.

There's a glint in her eye and true excitement about her. The two newcomers exchange an uncertain glance. No doubt they would have asked her just what had happened to put her in such a mood, when she beat them to the punch:

"Adrien, you'll never guess! I have a surprise for you!"

"A surprise?" The teen questions, almost amused. "Mom what could you-?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

She steps to one side and they realize that she isn't alone. There's a tall figure standing behind her. He seems to linger there as the woman pushes the doors open in a somewhat theatrical manner. No doubt this was planned. Perhaps for quite some time. She doesn't take her eyes off of her son and the assistant as they linger in the entrance, somewhat confused but increasingly dumbstruck. Standing there, wearing an uncharacteristically gentle smile, is a man who hasn't set foot in his own house in three years.

Gabriel Agreste has only a few words for them.

"Hello son."