Mayura

Birth by Sorrow

Lying in his unmade bed, his hair unkempt and his face darkened by unshaved facial hair, Gabriel Agreste felt his arms and legs weighed down as his heavy chest continued to rise and fall with each miserable breath he drew in. His reddened eyes still moist and glossed over with tears, the broken shell of a man put up one last struggle to force himself out of bed, only to give up.

"Sir, please," Nathalie begged of her employer. "Please let me help you. You've been lying in bed for nearly three days. You need to get up. You need to eat. Please, sir!"

"…Nathalie, let me go," Gabriel weakly pleaded. "Time and time again, I have tried…Every one of my dreams has died, every one of my plans has failed…now, even my Miraculous has forsaken me. I have failed her…I have failed everything. I no longer have the will to go on. Forgive me."

"I won't let you give up," the purple-haired woman declared as she took the man's cold hands. "I made a promise, not just to you, but to her that we would see this through until the end. Have you forgotten the promise you made?"

Seeing his beloved wife's face in the rays of the sun, Gabriel felt the strength return to his broken body, if only for a moment, and forced himself onto his feet with Nathalie's help. "I can't give up…not yet," the silver-haired man declared with icy composure. "…Though I'm losing control of the Akuma, I will carry on. Ladybug and Chat Noir have a new ally. The three are learning the depths of their powers, extending them to new limits. I know I must do the same."

"How do you intend to do that, sir?" Nathalie asked as she watched her employer make his way over to the window.

"…I need her…In her name, I can do anything," Gabriel declared, though Hawk Moth's voice was beginning to rise. "I had forgotten that…I had forsaken her."

Her heart warmed, Nathalie approached her dear friend and slowly took his hand under the light of the sun. "No, sir," she warmly replied. "You were merely disheartened. But the Miraculous will fall."

As the woman began to lean against her source of inspiration, Hawk Moth turned his head towards her. "Enough!" he roared, pushing Nathalie onto the ground. "Never touch me in that way… I will not abandon her, even in death."

"I-I'm sorry, sir," Nathalie coughed as she adjusted her glasses and shakingly returned to her feet. "I didn't mean…"

Lowering his head in shame, the dark Miraculous closed his eyes to the sun's light. "Nathalie…" he said just above a whisper. "…I'm sorry. I know you miss her as well. Please…I need to be alone."

"Yes, sir," the purple-haired woman answered with a slight nod of the head before departing from the room. Closing and locking the door before making her way down the hall, Nathalie entered her bedroom, locking and bolting the door in the darkness.

Her shades constantly up to block any light from entering, the suffering woman glanced over at her bed, whose pillow had been ripped, its bedspread torn asunder, sheets thrown and twisted, and its covers stained with the tears from nights spent in anguish. The wallpaper had been torn off in several places, several lights shattered, and precious, framed photographs ripped, crushed, or thrown to various corners. Falling to her knees, her entire body shaking, Nathalie drove her fingers through her hair, clenched several strands, and pulled them down with trembling hands as tears began to well up in her restless eyes. Taking in a sharp gasp, the woman rose her head towards the ceiling before opening her mouth wide, only to let out silent screams that pained only her. For years, she had endured, but things had grown so much worse. Throughout those years, Gabriel had been her source of inspiration and strength. To see him beaten and shamed time and time again, all at the hands of Ladybug and Chat Noir, had pained her just as much as the man she admired. "They're demons," she fearfully whispered as the cold and violent images of Paris' so-called heroes burned through her mind.

"Hey, Nathalie," Adrien broke the silence that night. "Since my dad's working in his office again, do you wanna have dinner with me?"

Nathalie quickly pulled herself out of her unhappy daydream and smiled at her charge. "Thank you, Adrien, but I ate earlier," she lied without hesitation. For the past couple of days, the woman had found herself all but void of an appetite and only able to eat one small meal per way, which she forced upon herself. Still, the blond young man's offer and carefree face helped her heart find some semblance of peace. Finally, the purple-haired woman walked away from the doorway and sat down next to Adrien. "Although," she continued. "I think we're both overdue for some catching up."

"Thanks, Nathalie," the blond young man happily replied. "So, how have you been?"

"I've been fine, thank you," Nathalie lied yet again, all the while wearing a calm smile. "Work has been slow lately. More importantly, I'm still relieved you're alright. Your father and I were very concerned when you didn't come home."

"I'm so sorry about that," Adrien confessed, his glance shifting to the floor. "I shouldn't have gone out with those criminals in the area."

"It's not your fault, Adrien," the woman gently replied, placing her hand atop the boy's. "All I care about is that you're safe and back home."

"All thanks to Ladybug and Chat Noir," the blond young man added with a smile. "Oh, and their new friend."

Nathalie felt her hand begin to tremble as her heart slowly began to pound. "Adrien…Don't put your faith in people like them," she declared out of sorrowful obligation as she returned her hand to her lap. "There's so much we don't know about them."

"But, they're superheroes, Nathalie," Adrien exclaimed. "They're the ones who saved me."

"I know that, Adrien," the boy's guardian replied, her tone more unhappy than impatient. "But, we've only seen one side of them. For all we know…" Images flashed through Nathalie's mind of Ladybug and Chat Noir shattering her dearest friend's dreams, as if spitting directly into the face of Emilie. "…They could be no better than the ones they're fighting." Her glance sinking to the floor, the purple-haired woman failed to notice the look of shock and hurt upon Adrien's face before he simply focused on his meal.

After a painfully long silence, Adrien gave up trying to force his dinner down past in the swelling lump in his throat, and glanced back at Nathalie, who seemed to have retreated into thought yet again. "Hey, Nathalie," the young man finally spoke up. The purple-haired woman turned to her charge. "I've noticed you've been up really late the past couple of nights…Is everything okay?"

Her entire life, Nathalie vowed to be a solid rock for Adrien: She had decided before he was born that she would always be strong and unshakable for the child she would protect and care for one day. Now more than ever, she struggled to maintain the immovable woman she had turned herself into. The desire to break down and share her pain in its every detail burned within her heart, mind, and soul. However, she chose to bite her tongue, steady her heartbeat, and bury her suffering. "I've just been working on some projects," she answered with a hint of a false smile. "But, I'm not the only one who's been up late at night. Have you been having trouble sleeping, Mister Agreste?"

"Well…" Adrien began to answer as he swirled the leftovers around his plate with a fork. "I've been…having some bad dreams lately. And, it's a little hard for me to fall asleep. I think it's from…" As he spoke, the young man flashed back to the nights he spent bloody and beaten, chained to the one he loved but couldn't protect. Days of hunger, thirst, fear, doubt, and guilt seemed to force themselves back into his mind with the speed of a bolt of merciless lightning. "From…"

"From when you were kidnapped," Nathalie eased the boy's suffering while unwittingly helping him maintain his own lie. Adrien nodded as he tried to steady his breath. "Adrien, I think you're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder…I'll make you an appointment with the psychologist. But, in the meantime, can you tell me about these dreams you've been having? It's important to share these things with a trusted adult, as you know." Even though I've been lying to you for so long, the woman's unhappy voice declared into the raw ear of her mind.

"Well…" the blond young man answered, releasing his fork from his trembling hand. "I can't remember all of them, but last night, I was in this building. It kind of looked like this place, but it was darker. All the windows were open, but they were too high for me to get to. I looked down at myself, and I was chained to a woman…well, a girl, that I know…" Images flashed through Adrien's mind, showing him the image of Marinette sitting nude on the cold floor, her skin red and spotted with black dots with her mask painted over her eyes. Adrien found himself naked and sitting with his back against hers as dark, freezing chains bound them together. "We were all alone, tied up…helpless. I…wanted so badly to get out, but I couldn't. So, we just sat there. The walls start closing in, and then I wake up." Before he could finish the sentence, the young man felt hot tears welling up in his eyes before they began streaming down his cheeks.

"I thought I heard you crying last night," Nathalie warmly replied, her voice like that of a loving mother as she gently took the boy's hands in her own. "It sounds like you felt like it was somehow your fault, and the fact that you couldn't do anything to help that girl you were with, makes you feel weak or powerless. Does that sound right, Adrien?" The young man closed his eyes and nodded. "Adrien, you need to understand, there was nothing that could have been done. No one, not even Ladybug or Chat Noir could escape something like that. Sometimes, we all get trapped in a helpless situation…but the two of you got free. That means it wasn't hopeless…You made it through, and that means you were strong. I understand why you're so afraid, though. But, if nothing else, please…don't blame yourself."

Sniffling and taking in uncontrollable snorts of air, Adrien was unable to stop his tears and mucus from pouring onto his plate as his shame and fear approached its climax. "But…I…I could've…" he tried to confess. "I…I had the…We were there…for so long…If I'd only done something, we could've…"

"No, Adrien," Nathalie firmly spoke up as she lightly clenched her beloved charge's hands. "You did what you could…Even if you think there was more you could've done, no matter how strongly you believe that, it's not the truth. Please…let it go. Let this blame go. I know it was terrible, but you didn't bring it on yourself. Just thank God you're safe, and your friend is back home."

Pulling his hands away, Adrien pushed back his chair, stood up, walked over to his guardian, and froze. Looking into the suffering young man's face, Nathalie stood up in front of him, unsure of how to proceed. Before she could move or speak, the purple-haired woman watched as Adrien lunged forward, wrapped his arms around her lower back, and collapsed onto his knees. The young man pressed his face just under his guardian's breast as his sobs turned into violent cries and desperate gasps for air. His response uncontrolled, he didn't notice that his hands had slid down to Nathalie's waist as his tears stained her suit. Still, she lowered herself onto her knees, wrapped her arms around Adrien's upper back, closed her eyes, and held him tightly while lovingly hushing his cries. "It's alright, Adrien," she gently whispered. "Everything is alright. I'm here with you now…Everything is alright."

That night, Adrien was able to fall asleep soon after entering his bed. His tears and release of emotions had soothed his spirit and finally put his mind enough at ease to drift into peaceful slumber. Nathalie, however, found herself sitting atop her unmade bed, her hair down and unbrushed, and her neck sore with tension come midnight. Her tears dropped and stained the carpet as she recalled her own dreams: It had been so dark, until a single moth cast a light like fire before her. The closer she came to that light, the larger the moth appeared, until, finally, it was the size of a man, and standing on two very human legs. The moth turned its head to reveal Gabriel, who wept like an untamed waterfall. Nathalie had opened her arms to him, only to find herself expelling tears from her tired eyes. Blue feathers began to fall from the ceiling of the dark room the woman found herself in, and those feathers collided with her and soaked her suit with salty tears.

By the time her terrible recollection was complete, Nathalie had turned onto her right side and fell asleep atop her cold, unwashed covers. Even as she slept, tears continued to fall from her reddened eyes. Suddenly, a strange, soothing music broke her concentration and caused her to look up at the ceiling as a warm blue light so calming it was holy, slowly began to swell above her. In that heavenly light was a small, midnight-blue creature slowly floated downward and towards her. The creature appeared childlike and feminine but empowered by a purpose. Opening its eyes to reveal darker-blue sclera and nearly transparent ruby-colored irises, the ominous, almost angelic being smiled for only a second before a look of profound sorrow overtook it. Its eyes reflected an intelligence, a consciousness. Surely, the destination it had been seeking was right before it. Opening her eyes, Nathalie found herself alone atop her sheets in the cold darkness of night.

The purple-haired woman rubbed her swollen, heavy eyes to find them moist with fresh tears. "…This sorrow…is consuming me," she tearfully exclaimed as she curled into a fetal position and hid her face in her hands.

Standing before the painting of his eternally beloved wife in the darkness, Gabriel heard the sound of something dropping behind him. Upon leaving his precious lover, the withered man followed the source of the noise to a framed photograph. Seeing Emilie's loving, smiling face unobstructed, Gabriel realized the sacred brooch his wife had worn had fallen. Bending down and frantically feeling about the floor in the dark, the man finally found the hated piece and returned it to its spot in front of his wife's left shoulder. "I'm sorry," he fearfully apologized just above a whisper. Emilie's face, now partially blocked yet again, would forever stand as a reminder of how everything precious had been lost. The brooch's five-peacock-feather shape and design seemed to glisten with a dark-blue light as it rested, as if conscious of its surroundings.