He was still breathing. A strange thing to realize and yet it was the first thing which really registered. His body was heavy, unresponsive and yet he was awake. Even thinking was a task he wasn't quite up for. His brain refused to cooperate and he wasn't all that inclined to force it to do anything. For a while… That was enough. Adrien simply lay there, breathing, living.

Gradually though, he began to regain some sense of feeling in his body. Whether the process took minutes or hours, the young man couldn't have said. Time had lost its meaning. As the feeling slowly returned to his limbs, he came somewhat more aware of his surroundings. He was lying down. Was he back in his bed? Just where he was became somewhat less important as pain began to radiate from pretty much all over. What started as some slight discomfort gradually mounted, it became more specific. Whilst some of it was muscular and belonged to what he guessed were bruises, others were much sharper and produced what he could best describe as a burning sensation. He let out a groan, shifting slightly as he attempted to remove some of the pressure from his right shoulder.

Next to him, something moved. He wasn't alone.

Just what had happened? Straining, the young man tried his best to cast his mind back and recall just how he had ended up here. Things were a hazy mess. He could remember the party from the night before: the laughter and Nino's rendition of Santa Baby particularly clearly. Something had happened afterwards… He'd walked the others home. Had he kissed Marinette? No… They hadn't gotten that intimate. The rest came back to him in a series of violent flashes. He'd been attacked. Whilst the intruders' faces had been masked, there was no mistaking their malicious intent. Each of the wounds they had dealt him came back almost as if he was experiencing them anew. He could practically feel his flesh being torn and burnt. Why was everything so dark? It felt as if he'd been blindfolded.

Someone touched his shoulder. For a moment, he found himself back down the alley, face to face with one of his intruders. With only his self-preservation instinct to drive him, he lashed out. Whilst his left arm obeyed his command, it was still able to make contact with something. It was fabric, he guessed that it must have been their collar simply from the feel of things. He dragged them down, apparently pulling them clean off of their feet as he heard them fall. Still, he refused to release his hold. Strangely, he encountered no resistance or even much of a complaint.

"Easy. It's me."

He recognized the voice in an instant and released his hold. The few moments of exertion cost him dearly. Within a few seconds he found his limbs to be heavy once more. Out of breath, he tried his best to relax, now that he knew at the very least he wasn't alone. He lay there, trying to recover some feeling of himself. Approximately half of his body was numb, worse, he couldn't even feel it. That which he was still aware of and had control over was making him sorry that he'd woken up. Between aching muscles and torn skin, his encounter in the alleyway had left him unwilling to move for fear of some part of him falling off.

The darkness made him nervous. It invited endless amounts of doubt into his mind. Being deprived of his primary sense left him with only his hearing to fall back upon. They offered him little clue as to just where he was. All he knew for sure was who he was with. Was he blind? He raised his hand to the damp cloth which lay across much of his face, eager to try and remove it and give his eyes a chance to see for themselves. A single touch was enough to dissuade him of that notion. Even brushing his fingers against it was enough to send a scolding sensation running throughout all of the skin in the area. Hissing with pain, his ears picked up on the sound of feet on the floor. A mixture of fear and pain made him somewhat childish, desperate to find some reassurance in the form of an explanation from the only other person in the room:

"Nathalie, everything's dark… Where am I?"

"The lounge." Was the simple response. "How much do you remember?"

"Right up until I passed out."

He was expecting some sort of an explanation, at the very least to be informed of just what had happened after he'd lost consciousness. Instead, he was met with only silence. The fact that he was in the lounge lead him to believe that he must have been lying on the couch. Although his back informed him otherwise, this felt rather a lot more like a mattress of some kind than it did the cushions of a sofa. The woman seemed to be preoccupied, he could hear her walking around some more. She was nearby. He could tell that much. A few seconds later, he felt some of the weight next to him which he could only assume was his right arm be lifted.

"Don't move around so much." Her words were stern, like a teacher scolding a misbehaving pupil. "You're making things worse..."

"What did you do to my arm?!" He questioned eager to know just why it felt he was missing a limb.

"I didn't do anything to it!" The woman snapped defensively.

"I can't feel it." He explained before clarifying. "It's completely numb."

"Let me see..." If she was touching him, he was blissfully unaware. "Can you feel this?"

"No."

"That?"

"No."

He heard her let out an exasperated or perhaps more accurately exhausted sigh. She was tending to his arm, he could tell that much simply due to the fact that the weight to the right of his body had shifted slightly. With the assistant in a relatively bad mood, he thought it best to remain as quiet as humanly possible. He didn't know what time it was or how long he'd been out but he'd woken her up in the middle of the night. He could have been out for hours, maybe even days. At the very least, he assumed that she hadn't been able to move him out into the lounge in anything less than half an hour.

"Out of interest, can you feel this?" She questioned a few seconds later.

"No." This time he shook his head to emphasize the fact. "What are you doing anyhow?"

"She's stabbing you with a needle." Came the familiar voice of his kwami from... somewhere… "Pricking – not stabbing. Nice to see that you're awake. You had us worried for a while there."

"I think you were hit with some sort of sedative." She informed him of that much in the same manner as she would have let him know what his schedule for the day was. "It will likely wear off in a few hours. In the meantime, you should consider yourself fortunate. It looks like you were mauled by a tiger."

"Did Plagg tell you what happened?"

"Yes."

He felt somewhat guilty for having dumped himself on the woman the way that he had. He must have scared her half to death. At least his kwami had been there to explain things to her. Not that there was much to explain. Even now, Adrien couldn't have said for sure what had happened. As he replayed the events in his mind, he found himself coming to the conclusion that if they had lasted five minutes in total, it would have been a lot. In the space of a few seconds, he'd gotten into a fight and almost been dragged off to somewhere he'd rather never see. When he'd crawled in, she must have thought he was dying.

She was back to moving around the room again. He could hear her shifting somewhere near him. There was the sound of what he guessed were bottles? Glass? His ears weren't in tune enough to allow him to know what exactly she was doing. Once more, dread began to form in the pit of his stomach. He found himself reaching once more for the bandage. Remembering the pain which had struck him down the first time, he hesitated. Ultimately, he lowered his hand once more, allowing it to fall heavily by his side.

"Nathalie… My eyes..."

That was what really mattered. The skin still stung. The searing pain from the night behind still rung true, almost as if he was reliving it. The woman didn't respond. He could hear her slowly coming back over towards him. She was standing next to him. A sense of gravity and anxiousness fell on the room.

If sections of his body were numb, his face was the exact opposite. He could feel the tips of Nathalie's fingers, reaching out towards the fabric before they'd even touched it. His sensitivity was such that he found himself wincing even as she very delicately using the tips of her fingers took a hold of the ends of the cloth. She removed it slowly. As each quarter-inch was removed, exposing his bare skin to the open air. He gritted his teeth, trying his best not to scream. It was gone a few seconds later. He was only greeted with silence. His eyelids, rough and crusty opened like shutters which had spent a decade rusted shut. His head rolled. Someone could have been rubbing sandpaper against his orbs as he lay there. The fact that neither Nathalie or even Plagg were speaking confirmed some of his worst fears… He still managed to speak, somehow, despite everything, calmly:

"It's not good, is it?

"I'm not a doctor or an optician..." Was all that the woman answered. "Can you see anything?"

"Not really. It's all dark…"

That wasn't entirely true. Whilst the world seemed to be impossibly dark. There was some light, just a fraction. It was faint and watery but none the less present albeit somewhat pale. He guessed that it must have been coming from the windows. He could make out a vague silhouette. It was blurry, dull… She couldn't even be called an outline. He closed his eyes a moment later. The stinging sensation was only getting worse. His eyes were watering, he could feel that much. The tears which made their way down his skin only irritated it further.

She placed her hand under his chin, tilting his head slightly. He guessed that she was forcing him to look her in the eye.

"Still sore?" Nathalie's voice was softer, more compassionate.

"It feels like my face's on fire." He confessed fighting tooth and nail to avoid rubbing his eyes.

"Hang on… I'll have a look."

Even the fresh air felt like daggers stabbing at his skin. His eyes were streaming now. He was scarcely even aware of the assistant coming closer to him. It was with the lightest of touches that the woman felt the sensitive flesh. The contact only lasted a split second but he recoiled violently, unable to hold back a howl of pain. The rest of his body complained vocally but it was nothing compared to his face. He was breathing rapidly in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Eventually, after a few moments, it slowly began to fade, becoming more bearable. Lying on his back, he breathed rapidly trying to calm down.

There was another pause as he waited for things to steadily get back to normal. In the commotion, he'd lost track of both Nathalie and Plagg. Despite the darkness, he still found himself instinctively searching for them. Ultimately, he gave up. They were there, somewhere… A few seconds later, he heard Nathalie moving, taking a few steps away from him before stopping abruptly. Enough messing around and time for business:

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't have many options, do I?" He spoke under his breath.

"No. Not many… I can take you to a hospital, they might be able to do something for your eyes." Nathalie was blunt, giving him the news as it was as opposed to trying to sugar coat things. "Alternatively, you can stay here. It might clear up by itself in time. It just depends what you got in your eyes. The fact is I don't know what the damage is and if it's reversible. You stay here, it could cost you your sight."

"On the other hand, I might already have lost it."

"I'd say that's a good possibility."

It was hard not to shudder at that thought. The notion that this perpetual blackness could be all that he could look forwards to now struck terror into him. Pain and the self-preservation instinct steered him towards going to the hospital. Nathalie was clever. She could think of some manner of excuse: a nutter looking for vengeance for Hawk Moth and Mayura's crimes and lashing out at their only son. At the very least, they would be able to alleviate some of the symptoms of what was currently causing him to suffer.

Then what? More questions would come. It was inevitable. The hospital was such a public place. He would be little more than a sitting duck if his attackers chose to strike once more. He closed his eyes, trying to block everything else out and think. The damage was done. A voice in the back of his mind seemed to say. Going to the hospital might be in his best interests right now but it could equally prove to be a poisoned apple. All it would take was for one person to start asking some questions, to wonder where he could have got such uncommon injuries from and they would all be in serious trouble. He couldn't afford to have his identity discovered, not after everything that had happened a decade ago.

He groaned, allowing his head to roll over to the side of his pillow. There was some light there, it was something of a comfort, enough to break up the monotony of the darkness:

"What can you do?"

"Not much. Wash them out I suppose, try to make sure they don't get infected. If you're determined not to go to a doctor's then they're going to have to heal themselves, if they can." She paused for a few seconds, he could almost picture her face as she hesitated. "Adrien, I'm going to be honest: I'd rather take you to hospital. I don't think you realize how much of a blow losing your sight would be."

"I know but-" He let out a heavy sigh. "They're going to ask questions at the hospital. I can't afford to have them discover who I am. I've made my decision Nathalie."

The woman said nothing. He knew that she disapproved of this course of action but being the person that she was, did nothing to physically stop him. He was willing to pay the price of not getting proper medical attention. Adrien wasn't about to deny the fact that the prospect of loosing his sight terrified him. Even in the short time that he had been awake, he'd found himself longing for even the blurriest of sights. He felt isolated, lost. It didn't help that he still wasn't entirely clear about just where he was in the living room. Had Nathalie and Plagg not been with him, he would likely have been in some state of panic.

Nathalie was back to moving around. She could hear her moving some stuff nearby. She gave no explanation as to just what it was that she was doing. He could only imagine. She declared that she had to go get a few things but promised to be right back. He had neither a reason nor the ability to prevent her from leaving, although the insecurity brought on by his current situation made him desperate for company. Instead, the young man simply nodded giving her permission to go and do whatever she needed. He sat there in uneasy silence. The presence of a what could only be described as a warm ball of fluff resting against the back of his left hand caused him to instinctively look down. His eyes saw nothing but he was still able to recognize his kwami resting against him, providing some much needed comfort.

"Thanks..." Was all that he could manage to mutter as a response.

"We'll patch you up kid. Don't you worry..."

He wanted to believe that the kwami was being sincere as opposed to saying whatever it took to make him feel better.

A few moments later, he heard the door. Nathalie walked more slowly, stopping not too far away. He recognised wood meeting a mixture of glass and much smaller and lighter items. His best guess was that she was putting some items back down on the table. Shifting slightly, he turned his full attention towards where the woman was. Another time, it might almost have been an entertaining game to try and guess just what she was doing or had with her. Unfortunately, it wasn't a game that he was able to stop playing. Utterly, helpless he could only try and think about his wounds and the treatment they would require. She must have spent a few minutes going through the stuff and preparing it. Eventually, she came back over to him.

"You're going to have to stand up." The woman informed him.

"Okay."

He took things slowly. Even sitting up on the couch – or wherever he currently was – proved to be a challenge. His muscles ached, a reminder of the blows that he'd received and the cuts which ran across a section of his ribs. He caught his breath, trying to summon his strength in preparation for getting to his feet. Already, he could tell that his left leg wasn't going to play ball. If some feeling was indeed returning to that limb, he still had little to no control over it. Gritting his teeth, he tried to force himself up, using his right leg only. It threatened to buckle under him, forcing the young man to use his arms in an attempt to prop himself up. Nathalie was quick to slip an arm around him, providing support. He leant against her, somehow… They staggered only a couple of yards before he was gently eased down into an armchair.

Nathalie left him be. Even covering the relatively short distance had left him feeling weak. Trying to ignore the stinging sensation around his eyes, he lay back and rested his head against the back of the chair. He heard the assistant let out a heavy sigh.

"This is going to hurt a lot."

"I thought it might..." He didn't particularly want to think about it.

He nodded. For a few seconds, he contemplated trying to meditate. He remembered Master Fu's words about how it could bring tranquillity to even the most troubled of souls – if done correctly. The notion was discarded however. Instead, he opted for simply gritting his teeth, acknowledging that this was unlikely to be a pleasant experience. Nathalie took a seat next to him. There was a pungent smell which he quickly identified as antiseptic. He could recall the substance stinging his cuts worse than the injury had hurt to begin with. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself to the best of his ability.

"Close your eyes."

He obliged, attempting to relax as much as possible in the process. A couple of seconds later, he felt something being cautiously dabbed against the skin. The pain which erupted almost instantly as soon as she made contact caused him to flinch. He recoiled violently, instinct demanding that he put as much distance between himself and the source of his suffering as possible. Fighting that urge proved to be difficult, causing him to grind his teeth together in an attempt to avoid screaming. It was impossible to stop his muscles from tensing up. The ointment felt as if it was eating away at his wounded flesh, burning it. Nathalie tried her best to ignore or rather work around his discomfort, to make sure that things were over and done with as quickly as possible. Despite his best efforts, he would powerless to hold back some whimpers and groaned as he shifted, desperate for it all to be over.

A hand slipped itself around his, applying some pressure. It wasn't enough to hurt but did let him know that he wasn't alone. He recognized the long slender fingers. She didn't speak but still managed to provide some comfort. Still, he hesitated to accept it. His greatest fear was that in a moment of suffering, he might grip too hard and shatter the bones. As the burning sensation persisted however, he found himself desperate for anything which might give him some comfort. He forgot sometimes that she was left-handed. Well, truth be told, the assistant was ambidextrous but she'd always been more comfortable with her left than her right. It wasn't much but enough to allow him to bear it and soldier on through.

As tender as it left his skin, he wasn't allowed much time to rest. The young man didn't complain, aware that he had forfeit that right by asking to be treated here as opposed to going to hospital. It was a lot to ask of Nathalie. He was aware that this wasn't something that she particularly wanted to do. No doubt, she thought it was the wrong course of action. Complaining about his own decision would have been an insult to the woman. He took deep breaths in an attempt to ease the pain and calm down. It took him a few moments to realize that he was physically shaking, no doubt in some form of shock. Thankfully, the eye drops were considerably less painful. He followed her instructions diligently.

"How did you even get me in here?" The young man asked as she bandaged up his eyes carefully. "Did you carry me?"

"I haven't been able to carry you since you were seven years old." The woman replied, her attention focused on her work. "I had to pretty much drag you in here. I moved a mattress down from upstairs for you to rest on."

That made sense. If nothing else, he was impressed by the amount of first aid knowledge that the woman seemed to possess. Up in the mountains of Tibet, he'd found himself tending to his own wounds and in latter years to an increasingly ailing Master Fu and could tell that Nathalie was familiar with the basic principles. Had she practised them before? He couldn't have said but at the very least, she was familiar with the concepts. She cleaned his wounds, wiping the dried blood and dirt away with a wet cloth and applying antiseptic a few moments later. He grimaced a few times, trying to conceal his discomfort to the best of his abilities. The assistant examined some of his injuries in a little more detail.

"Some of these are going to need stitches..." She informed him quietly, turning around to fiddle with some bottles. "We might have something here- I can try and put you out for a while if you'd prefer."

"No. It's fine. I'm done sleeping for today."

A part of Adrien wished that he could claim to never have felt the singular sting of a needle and pain associated with being sewn back up but his time in Tibet had lead him to have a somewhat clumsy encounter with a chisel which had resulted in him paying a visit to a local doctor. As such, he was more than prepared for it to be a rather unpleasant experience. Whilst Nathalie was considerate enough to apply some local aesthetic in the form of a spray, there was still a slightly unusual sensation which was almost impossible to ignore. Instinct requested that he tried to either swat away whatever was currently messing around with his shoulder. Instead, the young man gritted his teeth, trying to focus on anything else to avoid lingering on what was being done to him.

"You seem to know what you're doing..." A conversation, surely, would take his mind off matters.

"Well one of us has to." Was the woman's stoic response.

"I suppose I was asking how you knew what you were doing." Adrien clarified aware that he really should have been more precise if he wanted a response out of Nathalie. "Is surgery really a job requirement for a secretary?"

"You'd be amazed what skills I brushed up on when your parents decided they were going to get involved with magical terrorism."

"Can you take night classes in first aid?" It was a useful skill, one which now he found himself wondering if he should look into improving.

"You can certainly look it up on the internet." She paused cutting the thread. "Besides, my father was a doctor. I used to spy on his surgery as a little girl."

Curious, Adrien raised an eyebrow. It was an action he promptly regretted as his skin reminder him that expression in such a manner wasn't advisable. Still, he couldn't help but feel some curiosity. It was unusual for the woman to offer up pieces of her past, at least not willingly. The fact that she brought it up so rarely generally discouraged him from asking about it out of fear that he might cause offence or bring back some memories best left forgotten. As a result, he found himself knowing precious little about the woman which wasn't obvious or that he himself had not been able to witness during the time that they had been acquainted. As such, he found himself hesitating torn between wanting to know more and the privacy which was obviously so important to the assistant. Still, given that she'd been the one to bring up the subject, he was willing to take a slight risk and attempt to discover a little bit more:

"You never said your father was a doctor."

"You never asked." A response that he should perhaps have expected from the woman.

"Is that how you knew my parents? Was he their doctor?"

"Not at all." He heard her shake her head. "He practised in the village I lived in."

"You lived in a village?" Now that took him by surprise.

"You're not interested in any of this..." The woman sounded stern or perhaps simply dubious.

"I am."

"Well now you do. I'm a provincial." There was a slight pause before she added almost as an afterthought. "I moved to Paris for my studies. That's where I met your mother."

He didn't push the matter any further, unwilling to risk actually annoying the woman who was currently in the process of stitching up his various wounds. He let out a sigh, trying his best to relax and to make things as easy as possible for the assistant. In total, he estimated that he must have spent a good two hours being tended to. Most of that was spent in silence. Despite his initial claim that he was done with sleeping for the day, he quickly found himself losing strength. Perhaps it was the pain which was very slowly ebbing away. His eyes fluttered from time to time. It occurred to him that he still didn't know what time it was. He doubted that Nathalie had gotten any sleep the night before… She must have been exhausted.

Still, she soldiered on and finished her work. With the stitches done, she cautiously applied bandages to the rest of his wounds, wrapping them tightly.

"You'll need to keep an eye on these. The slightest sign of a swelling, fluid or a fever, we're taking you to hospital." She informed him, wrapping up a patch of his shoulder.

"Okay..."

"Can we get serious now?"

He didn't want to. The implications were terrible enough as they were. No doubt Nathalie would have thought of another thousand problems to face which hadn't even began to pop into his head. There was no avoiding them though. He considered himself fortunate that Plagg had already explained what had happened to the woman, it would save some time now and allow them to concentrate on what was important. He had been attacked. The implications were terrible, especially given that those responsible had seen him transform. Although their lack of surprise seemed to indicate that they'd at the very least expected him to have a miraculous of one kind or another. Most likely, they knew exactly who he was.

Nathalie was practical enough to know that they couldn't afford the luxury of allowing him to recover completely. He heard her take a few steps away. The sound of water splashing confused him momentarily. His best guess was that she must have brought through a basin. Whilst a part of the young man didn't want to face up to what he knew was going to be a difficult and potentially conflictual subject – both his body and mind weren't in the best of shapes right now to tackle such a challenge – he was equally aware that they had little choice.

"The people who attacked me, they're going to come back."

"Frankly, I'm astonished that they haven't already." She seemed to be drying her hands now. "I don't think it's much of a mystery what they were after."

"No. Maybe they don't know they're here." It seemed obscene, everyone in Paris knew where he was living.

"You were hardly going to have the Miraculous Box hidden under your shirt." The assistant replied dryly. "The way they came after you… I don't like it."

"What, you mean the fact that they were trying to kill me?" Despite everything, Nathalie's phraseology somehow stuck him as amusing.
"Actually, it's precisely the fact that they didn't kill you that concerns me."

He could only agree with the woman's statement. He'd been helpless and yet they hadn't pounced on him to end his life. They hadn't even attempted to steal his miraculous. His fingers had been left alone. That was worrying, almost as much as the calm which reigned over the manor at the moment. They should have followed him. If they couldn't keep up with Cat Noir, then they must have been able to guess where he would go. Unless, perhaps, they presumed that he would go to the hospital instead of limping home. All the same, there was enough about the current situation to leave him asking many questions. Evidently, Nathalie had the same fears about the current situation, which she expressed only a few seconds later:

"They could have killed you easily. It's what I spent two years trying to help your father do. Kill or disable the miraculous holders, take their jewels."

"I guess they're after the whole lot..." Adrien muttered glumly, his fingers coming back to fidget with his ring. "They must think that I stashed it somewhere, along with the book."

"Seems logical. In which case you are in serious danger."

Once more, he found himself forced to agree with what Nathalie had said. They would come back for him. If not now – assuming that for some reason they either didn't know that he was here or thought that the protection might have been such that they couldn't risk another attack – then they would come soon. Whilst initially, his first thought was about just what he would do if they suddenly broke in, another thought popped into his mind. Nobody cared about Adrien Agreste - at least not anybody who would come after him in such a manner – they wanted what he had and it wasn't the riches or the company. It was the unusual collection of jewellery which would have seemed attractive to them.

It was with a sudden realization that he was sitting down here with Nathalie, the miraculous box was sitting around upstairs with nobody to stand guard over them. He did his best to stand up. The woman was quick to place a hand on his chest. Applying only a little pressure, she was able to stop him from getting up:

"So are the miraculous…" He argued aware that the woman almost certainly knew that much. "I've got to protect them!"

"I'm going to chalk that piece of insanity down to the sedatives." The woman's tone informed him that she was far from impressed. "Have you taken a look at yourself? In this state, you're utterly helpless and you can probably count on being so for the next few weeks at least."

He knew where this was going and most certainly didn't like it. The fact that Nathalie didn't speak only seemed to confirm his fears. There was enough of an understanding between them that words weren't required. She knew that he had come to the exact same conclusion that she had. By leaving a pause, she gave him an opportunity to think matters over, to reflect on his next course of action. Albeit, she was steering him in a direction, knowing full well that he didn't have many to pick from but equally aware that he was likely to go for the least logical option.

Anger and irritation bubbled under the surface. It was somewhat childish, he was still conscious enough to realize that much. Another grown-up telling him what he could and couldn't do. There was a time when he would have gone along with it without question. He'd spent his formative years being told how to live his life. Only Cat Noir and his friends had offered him some of the freedom he longed for. That was over a decade ago though. Now, he was an adult, more inclined to argue and throw his weight around. Later, he might blame his response on the pain or simply a result of exhaustion.

"I can handle myself Nathalie!" He snapped aggressively.

"I will not be responsible for putting you in a box!" Her tone was firm but surprisingly emotional for the woman. "So either you get real or I will walk out of that door!"

He opened his mouth, contemplating attempting to argue. Then he remembered that when faced with Nathalie, a defeat was practically a certainty. Instead, he hesitated, thinking his words over first. Perhaps, if he explained his doubts and concerns about the path which she so obviously hoped he would take and he dared not even contemplate venturing down it. There was far too much at stake. It was bad enough that he'd probably unwittingly dragged his assistant into this whole mess without potentially involving anyone else. Letting out a heavy sigh, the rested his head against the back of the chair.

"If I let them back in, then that means they could get hurt." The young man averted his gaze, focusing on the city lights rather than the woman. "I can't let them that happen to them. They've got their own lives to live. They'll become targets. I can't put them in danger..."

"I know what the miraculouses are capable of. I've seen it with my own two eyes and like you, been on the receiving end a couple of times." Nathalie let out a heavy sigh. "If that box gets stolen, it's all of our lives."

"I won't let them take it!"

Once more, he attempted to get up. This time, as opposed to it being Nathalie who prevented him from getting to his feet, his whole body stepped in. His muscles, particularly his abdominals, strained informing him not to move any further or else he risked causing some serious damage. Groaning, he allowed himself to fall back into the chair, breathing heavily as he did so. Next to him, he heard the woman shift slightly, standing over him, evidently concerned. He raised his hand, signalling that he was alright. Well, not quite but that she didn't have to worry about him having done anything serious. Like it or not, his body was confirming what the assistant had already told him…

In his mind however, he found himself thinking back to the peaceful and normal lives which his friends had managed to achieve for themselves. Giving them miraculouses would mean asking them to step up and become the heroes of Paris once more. Something that they had given up a very long ago and for good reason too. It had eaten into their lives, whilst some collégiens might have been able to cope, it was unlikely that Alya's boss, Nino's clients or Marinette's university would be understanding if they were suddenly absent, especially with no akumas to be able to use as excuses. On the other hand, as Nathalie had pointed out, without help. There was a very real possibility of the power of the miraculouses falling into the wrong hands.

"Adrien, you don't have to give them the miraculouses permanently-" This time, it was Plagg who spoke to him. "-but at least until you're back on your feet. You could probably do with the protection."

"I know… I know..." He lowered his head in shame before asking in a quiet voice. "Nathalie, could you go and get the miraculous box? You know where it is..."

"Of course..."

He heard her walk away slowly, probably all the better for it. Once the box was before him, there would be no going back. He felt Plagg resting against him, perched somewhere on his good shoulder. It was a welcome and comforting presence in the darkness which surrounded him. Nathalie would be a good few minutes. The time it took her to use the elevator and retrieve the box, it would no doubt be enough for him to start having regrets. As such, he tried his best not to think as he waited for her to return. It would have been nice to be able to drift off only to wake up and find out that what happened last night was simply a nightmare. Unfortunately, the lingering pain was enough to remind him that no matter how much he wished that this was a dream, he knew that he wasn't so fortunate.

Nathalie returned a while later. She placed the box cautiously down on a table next to him. He leaned forwards, his tense muscles and sore skin made keying in the code in difficult, that was to say nothing about the blindness. He fumbled, struggling to enter the proper code. After several failed attempts, he finally heard the rewarding click as the top opened up, revealing the numerous gems contained within. His hand passed over them, fingers brushing over each piece of jewellery as he attempted to recognize it. Cautiously, he plucked one out and held it out, offering to the woman. Whilst he couldn't see her response, the silence seemed to speak volumes for it:

"Here..." He managed to croak out.

"Adrien, I swore that-"

"Nathalie, I trust you and there's no way I'm leaving you defenceless. Please, take it."

There was another pause, marked by hesitation. Then, very slowly, Nathalie placed her fingers around the miraculous and took it. The peafowl broach was powerful but more importantly, the woman was familiar with it. She knew how its powers worked from both personal experience and then watching another use it. For the time being at least, she would be the greatest protector he could dare to hope for. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he tried once more to fight off a wave of pain as it struck him. Despite everything, he thought that he felt a familiar rush of energy which was associated with the kwamis.

"Nathalie?!" The kwami's surprise was evident, perhaps this wasn't quite the awakening that she'd been expecting.

"Hello again Duusuu..."

"Nathalie..." He called out to her, a sense of urgency taking hold. "Please, call the others..."

/

Thanks again for the review!