Author's note: Thanks for all of your reviews!

/

Adrien stares wide-eyed at his father.

The man hasn't changed much. He stands there in his suit, dressed and groomed impeccably. He's handsome standing next to beautiful Emilie who loops her arm through his and rests her head against his chest. He's taller than his wife, taller than Nathalie, able to look his son in the eye. So why doesn't he pick up on the fear and terror lingering behind them? Instead, the man just smiles gently, as if he was expecting some sort of a warm welcome.

In those few moments, all he can hear is his own heart pounding in his chest. It drowns everything else out. Half of the world around him begins to fade, it leaves him just fixing his father. His smile has vanished, perhaps aware that something's not quite right.

He's no longer standing in the entrance. Instead, he finds himself thrown back into the Grand Palais. Trapped under the rubble, it's Hawk Moth who stands there, triumphant as he steals Marinette away. There's that unbearable weight on his back, crushing him and his lungs can't quite fill themselves, no matter how hard he tries. His skin burns as it's cut into by pieces of debris but worst of all his shoulder feels as if it's on fire. He would scream if only his chest would allow him to take in the oxygen.

Locked in place, he's powerless to prevent the terror from taking over. It seeps into every pore of his body. Causing his muscles to shake. Even his jaw trembles as the color drains from his face. It's a sensation he's experienced before but never quite this severely. Faced with his father, sweat pouring down his body. He wants nothing more than to scream, to hide. For a few moments, he actually thinks that he might be about to die. The sensation which grips his chest, tightening it and his throat so that he can no longer breathe is enough to send him crashing to his knees.

Somewhere along the line, he can hear voices but is unable to make out just what they're saying. He can feel the cool of the marble floor against his still shivering body. It's almost soothing. Trapped somewhere else, filled with panic. Time loses its meaning. His heart continues to thunder.

He closes his eyes and prays for it all to end, convinced that this will be the death of him.

It's a while later. He doesn't know how long that the shouting begins to make sense once more. At the very least, he can understand the words:

"Gabriel, I'm telling you stay back!"

"Someone's got to call a doctor!"

"He'll be fine… Just give him a moment..."

Very gradually, he can feel his heart begin to slow. There's a certain exhaustion that takes over him. As his senses begin to return, he feels compelled to try and get back up. The first time, there's someone there to gently discourage him from doing so, pushing his head back down. The second however, he's a bit more successful. Slowly, he's able to sit back up. A pair of hands support his back as settles, struggling to make sense of the world.

He's confused and can't quite remember where he is. There's a woman next to him. For a few moments, he just fixes her. Adrien knows her name. She means a great deal to him. Just what said name is though, he can't recall. She's a comfort however and he uses her to drag himself out of the stupor and terror which had engulfed him. His head is spinning as he turns his attention elsewhere, to the other people in the room. His gaze drifts.

The concerned and somewhat frightened blonde woman has a name: mother and the man to her left is dread.

It gives Adrien a second wind of sorts. This time, it's the flight instinct that takes a hold of him. He staggers backwards. His feet slide on the cold and hard floor, unable to get the traction that he needs. His legs are still a little heavy from having collapsed not all that long ago. It only makes the panic worse as he feels trapped. The woman next to him backs away slightly as he begins to flail around, increasingly desperate.

He has to get out of here. He can't breathe.

Eventually, he manages to get to his feet and reach the door. He swings it open. It collides roughly with something but he forces it anyway. He makes it outside, into the fresh air. A single breath of which is enough to power him on. He doesn't know just where he's going. It doesn't matter. All he knows is that he needs to escape.

Nathalie picks herself up from the floor rather unceremoniously. Her left forearm hurts. She tries not to pay it any attention, deciding not to examine it in front of the couple. Emilie is half way out the door, she's desperately crying out after her son. She's close to giving chase but Adrien takes long strides and is already quite far away. Groaning with discomfort, she brushes herself off. There's no dirt there, it's just something that she does to give her a few more seconds to gather her thoughts together.

"Don't!" The woman grumbles seeing that Emilie's about to go out hunting for the lad. "He'll come back eventually."

She's seething with anger. It's not so much directed at Emilie. For the time being, all things taken into account, she's going to have to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and assume that she genuinely didn't know. Gabriel however is another kettle of fish. Whilst the man might stand there, rigid, truly shocked by what he's just seen, he is far from innocent. It reminds her of the way that would create an akuma and then suddenly be surprised if his son ended up in the firing line. She grits her teeth and forces herself not to tear into the man.

She wants to call him cruel, selfish. To highlight how this is anything but productive and risks damaging his son beyond repair.

Emilie however has a different bone to chew. She leaves the door open, storming over towards the two of them, a face like thunder:

"This has happened before?!"

How to answer that? She could lie and claim that she's never seen the likes before in her life but then she's already more or less confirmed that she has by giving them instructions. The truth is that she's never seen him collapse like that, at least not without giving a fair amount more warning. It's just the shock. Had he been able to prepare himself, have some warning that his father would be waiting for him, then she feels that things would have been different. He could have braced himself.

Emilie has no qualms about getting into the personal space which the assistant generally holds so dear. She barges over to the woman. The look on her face is clearly that of a mother who thinks that her child has somehow been harmed. Gabriel stands back, perhaps preferring to allow the two women to sort of their differences in the hopes that he'll get off the hook or at the very least be spared some of the fallout. It's with a finger thrust into her face that she's informed that she's being held accountable for all of this:

"What has happened to my son?!"

"Ask your husband." Voice a little lower than normal, Nathalie struggles to retain a cool and level head.

"I'll get to that in a minute." Emilie turns to her husband, glaring daggers at him. "-but you, you've been keeping things from me for weeks now! What's wrong with him?!"

Nathalie shies away. She both loves and hates it when Adrien's right. It would seem that keeping Emilie in the dark about so much has finally come back to bite them.

For all that, the woman remains reticent. Things would be different if the young man were actually here wit her. As it stands, she's reluctant to discuss his private life – especially that side of things – even with his parents. She's not without being aware that its a painfully sensitive subject and one which he barely even speaks to her - someone who lives with him and is witness to many of his outbursts - about. So Gabriel and Emilie, especially given the former's role in half of the lad's issues, are not the people that she's the most inclined to start sharing things with, not without Adrien's permission at least.

Emilie takes yet another step towards her. The lack of response isn't pleasing her or helping with her temper, that much is clear. Nathalie averts her gaze, rubbing her painful forearm. She can already tell that this is going to end in an argument.

"He's sensitive..." She knows it's an unsatisfactory response before she's even uttered it.

"Is that what the doctor says?" Emile raises an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip.

"He hasn't been." Nathalie responds in a level voice.

"What?!"

Given that the word had practically been screamed by the woman, Nathalie expects this to be the beginning of one of the fights that she'd very occasionally heard her have with her husband. Those could be as loud as they were seemingly violent in their intensity. She braces herself. As the assistant, she'd never really been on the wrong end of Emilie back in the day, there had been no cause. At most, she'd had to put up with the woman's ill-humor before and after the event. Now, she thinks she might not only be the target of the rage but also it's source. Neither of which are desirable situations to find one's self in.

It would be foolish to hope for Gabriel's assistance. The man is keeping well out of the way of this particular hurricane. For a few moments, Nathalie finds herself struggling to avoid squirming uncomfortably under the other woman's burning gaze. To her surprise however, after a few moments, Emilie looks away, lowering her gaze to the ground. When she does finally speak, it's in a low but none-the-less angry voice:

"Then you say that you have his best interests at heart."

There's a certain amount of disgust behind her tone which the woman doesn't even attempt to conceal. Nathalie doesn't respond, focusing elsewhere, on the floor to be specific. She tries to reason to herself that her silence is simply because she doesn't want to argue and provoke Emilie any further than she has done already. Emotions are running way to high for her to be comfortable.

In truth however, there's a terrible feeling at the bottom of her stomach. It's partner in crime is a little voice somewhere in the back of her head that whispers that Emilie is right. She's known that Adrien isn't quite right for a long time now. She sits with him, listens if he wants to talk and if he needs it, will take his hand. It's been three years now however and she's acutely aware that despite what the teen claims, the situation is not getting any better. The guilt and shame are two things that she's not willing to face, not here and certainly not right now.

Her attention turns towards Gabriel, desperate to shift at least some of the blame for this off of herself:

"This is why I told you never to turn up like this!"

"How was I to know that he would-" The man pauses unable to find the words to describe what he'd witnessed and simply gesturing towards the spot where it had happened instead. "-whatever that was?!"

"Oh what did you think was going to happen?!" Nathalie snaps raising her voice.

"I didn't know."

Gabriel is dismissive about the matter. Clearly, he doesn't feel that any of this is his fault. He's adopted the same cold attitude that he usually wore about the house and which Nathalie had hoped that he might actually have abandoned since his exile. Somehow, it only manages to exasperate things as far as she's concerned. At the very least, he could shoulder some of the blame, accept that he'd played a role in what's befallen his son:

"Didn't know or didn't care?!" The assistant challenges, gritting her teeth.

"Enough!"

Emilie snaps loudly taking one last step forwards. Nathalie finds herself trapped between the couple. Suddenly, Adrien's flight technique is as understandable as it is appealing.

Thankfully, Gabriel's attention is now elsewhere, resting firmly on his wife. He's weary of her if nothing else, having been on the wrong end of a tongue lashing from his spouse on more than one occasion. She has a face like thunder and is clearly at the end of her rope. Any notions either of them might have had about arguing are quickly smashed in favor of remaining silent in the hopes that it might be enough to protect them for a while.

"You're both to blame! Gabriel, you're an idiot and you-" She points her finger right at Nathalie's chest. "You're not, which in my books makes you actually worse!"

Nathalie averts her gaze. She won't argue that she's entirely guiltless. That would be a lie. Although right now, she's not entirely sure just what she's being accused of: failing to get the appropriate help for the woman's son or for keeping things from her. Likely both. Usually, she would have put up some front of some kind. Right now, she's too tired to deal with any of this. She glances towards the door, hoping that Adrien will come back sooner rather than later.

Still on the warpath, Emilie opens her mouth. Clearly she has more say, something else seems to attract her attention however, stopping her dead. It takes Nathalie a few moments to realize that it's her that's being eyes or rather her arm:

"Nathalie you're bleeding." The woman informs her.

The woman glances down. Sure enough there's a little stream of red making its way down her left hand, somehow it hadn't even registered. A few specks of it have already hit the floor. Coolly, the woman pulls up her sleeve. Sure enough, there's a cut on the back of her forearm. The skin is red there and lets her know that she'll have a painful bruise come the morning. Thankfully, the wound itself is not all that deep and the worst it's done is to stain her jacket.

She lets out a frustrated sigh, displeased that they were the ones to point it out to her. Nowadays, when she licks her wounds, she'd much rather do so in private:

"Must have been the door." The woman mutters under her breath. "Excuse me."

At least, it offers her a means to escape.

Without saying another word, she makes her way upstairs. In so far as Gabriel's lies are concerned, if he's told any it's already too late. Although Emilie's seeming confusion gives her some hope that the man hasn't been able to muddy the waters too much. At any rate, when Adrien returns and has calmed down, they're going to have to give her their side of the story and hope that it's enough to convince the woman.

She goes through the motions of her head as she washes out the injury in the ensuite bathroom connected to her bedroom. The wound stings a bit as she washes away the blood and applies some antiseptic to it. Gritting her teeth, the woman resolves to bear it. A bandaid should solve the problem. She knows exactly how she got it, it was Adrien. In his desperation to escape, he'd torn the door open. His panic he'd forgotten, not taken into account or not realized (it doesn't really matter) where she was. She'd raised her arm to protect herself and taken the brunt of the blow. As she puts away the little first aid kit that she keeps in her bathroom cabinet, the woman's eyes spot something in the mirror standing in the doorway.

The anger has vanished from Emilie's face, replaced instead with a genuine look of concern.

"Does this happen often?" She asks quietly.

"It's not the first time." Is all Nathalie has to say about it.

"He-" Emilie pauses, tugging at her sleeve nervously as she searches for the appropriate words. "-seemed angry. Has- Has he ever hit you?"

Nathalie tenses up but doesn't respond. Adrien can get angry. He can fly into a rage over nothing sometimes. Tonight however, it wasn't anger so much as terror which had taken over him. Although she can understand just how his mother could have made the confusion. Tidying everything up, she turns around to give Emilie her undivided attention. Gabriel isn't here. She's grateful for that much. Whilst her reaction isn't as violent as the boy she cares for, the man's presence is equally upsetting for her.

For the time being though, she focuses her attention on his wife:

"He was just frightened."

"-And what do we do about that?"

"For tonight?" Nathalie lets out a sigh and shakes her head. "Mrs. Agreste, please, let me deal with it. He's not going to be in a state to-"

"You want me to keep Gabriel away from him? I'm guessing he was the trigger." Nathalie nods just once, surprised by the suggestion. "Okay… I want my boy to be alright."

She doesn't say anything else, drifting off in silence.

Rain comes after dark but not Adrien. Nathalie keeps to herself, eating her dinner in the teen's room. She keeps the window open, aware that it's the route that he's most likely to take to come home but as time rolls on, he's nowhere to be seen. She texts Marinette. The young woman is unaware of what's happened and hasn't seen him. Mildly worrying. At 10 o'clock, she takes an increasingly frantic Macaroon out into the garden for some exercise. With a raincoat on and her hood pulled up, she waits until he does his business. She'd like to take him for a walk but knows that he'd just drag her along the sidewalk.

She makes her way back inside. Mr. and Mrs. Agreste are nowhere to be seen and the silence leads her to believe that they could easily be asleep. She doesn't know if that means the same bedroom or if Gabriel has been relegated to the couch. At this point, the woman can't really bring herself to care.

She takes the dog upstairs and returns to her silent vigil.

As soon as she enters however, Macaroon charges off. He's bouncing up and down, excitedly greeting the young Parisien hero who stands there. Even the dog barely even registers. He's fixing dead ahead of himself, shell shocked. Drenched to the bone, he appears lost. Nathalie says nothing, handing him a towel from his drawers. He accepts it but still stands there, swaying somewhat like a tree in the wind. She gives him a few moments, whilst she goes to shut the window. There are some puddles in the boy's room.

It takes a few minutes and some coaxing before he changes back from Cat Noir to Adrien. Plagg floats near him, attempting to add some humor through complaining about the wet. It's lost on the lad. She realizes that he's not going to come back to them tonight. Exhausted, the teen promptly collapses into his bed, not even bothering to change out his clothes. She does succeed in slipping a towel down between his head and the pillows.

She tucks him in. As always, he takes to sleeping on his stomach. As the woman pulls the blanket up, his gaze flicks over to her and for the first time, there's a sparkle of recognition. It takes him a couple of goes, before finally managing to utter feebly:

"I had a nightmare..."

"I know…" She tells him softly.

He's out cold a moment later. A quick glance to Plagg and a silent request are made. The kwami nods once, promising to watch over him. Feeling exhausted herself, Nathalie slips out of the room and heads towards her own bed. Outside, the rain continues to lash against the windows. She prays he won't awaken for a good few hours yet. He needs the rest if he's to be ready for tomorrow...