Nathalie had known Gabriel was in love with her for quite some time now. He had made no secret of it. It showed . She did not delude herself into thinking it would last. She was a rebound relationship, his first breath of air after emerging from the grave he had buried himself in. It would fade as he learned to live again, and she would be fine with it.
She would.
She would .
Nathalie had known he was aware of his own feelings when he had made a point of kissing her goodbye, mere hours after discovering the birthday gift debacle, when the damage she could have caused to his relationship with his son still hung between them.
He had caught up with her as she left the mansion in the late evening, just to kiss her full on the lips, just to tell her he would be too busy to drop by her apartment later that night, yet to show her he would have loved to.
She would have liked to pretend she had not been kept awake by overwhelming relief.
###
She spent the next morning playing minesweeper while Gabriel talked to his son.
Then she worked until midnight.
She only went home at half past one.
###
Adrien followed his new schedule to the letter, more than any schedule Nathalie had attempted to have him respect for the past few years. Granted, knowing he made his father happy was an excellent incentive. It was stunning to observe. Nathalie had watched the boy try so hard to please Gabriel, and for so long, only to be crushed time and time again. Now, however…
Now, his father let him in.
In a normal family, it would not have been so satisfying to see a son sit in the same room as his parent to study. In a normal family, seeing basketball hoops appear in the courtyard would not have warmed your heart. In a normal family, hearing laughter in the house would not have been a new and welcome event.
Nathalie knew it was only possible because Gabriel's wounds were at long last starting to heal - finally, finally, finally - and watched it all unfold not with satisfaction but with the utmost relief.
Her hairpins started to go missing again.
Gabriel made sure to get caught and to steal a kiss or two.
He moved his things to a guest room so the master bedroom could be 'freshened up' (and by that he meant repainted, refurbished and entirely redecorated). And, as no ghosts lived in that guest room, Nathalie was invited to spend the night.
Things had taken a turn for the better.
Now, unfortunately, Hawk Moth had not fallen off the face of the earth.
###
Chat Noir was sulking.
There was only one thing he wanted in the world, one , and it was his date with Ladybug. He had more or less managed to bury his guilt. So she wanted to move on from Adrien Agreste. It was because of reasons. Reasons that were not especially valid in their current circumstances, which Ladybug was unaware of, which meant 'Adrien Agreste' had to somehow improvise.
He would come clean. He would. At the end of the first date. If it ever happened.
Three Akuma attacks in three days had delayed it a little.
Chat Noir would not have been opposed to a three AM rooftop picnic, but his partner swore that she needed sleep, especially now that school had started again.
Adrien, however… Well, there was some truth to the 'like father, like son' adage. Insomnia seemed to be hereditary.
At half past three, he found himself knocking on the window of Pat Messmer's office. He could not just slip in: the frame had been repaired and it was surprising he had not faced dire consequences for breaking in the first time. So Chat Noir knocked and waited for his father to let him in. He knew Gabriel was there. The lights were on.
It took a few moments, but his father came out of the secret passage. He raised his eyebrows when he recognized the young hero and walked to the window to open it.
His son grinned. He detached his staff from the wall and slipped inside, bowing.
"I knew you'd be here," the teenager said. "How are you?"
Gabriel's eyebrows traveled a little higher.
"Isn't tomorrow a school day?" he asked. "I figured after the fight Legal Reaction put you through, you'd have headed straight to bed."
Adrien cringed at the mention of the seven hours battle against an Evilized court clerk who, on top of minionizing three dozen people, had not stopped spewing legalese for a second.
"I'll let you know there's no law saying I have to sleep," he retorted. "And anyway, who are you to judge?"
"I'm merely defending a healthier lifestyle. There is a lot of evidence in support of good sleeping habits. It would be criminal of you to ignore it."
Chat Noir chuckled.
"Are you appealing to my better judgement?"
Gabriel shook his head, smiling, and headed for the trapdoor.
"What do you want, boy?"
"Nothing in particular," Adrien replied, following him into his 'secret lair'. "I figured you'd be bored while your 'quantique' was charging, I thought I'd drop by."
"How considerate," his father said, camouflaging a chuckle behind a snort.
The teenager looked around. The room was half empty. The magical artefacts that had been littering the tables and floor were gone, as well as the largest part of his father's notes. The aquariums remained, but only a handful of butterflies were left in them.
He blinked.
"What happened to your stuff?"
His father sat under the crystals, at the table his watch was on.
"It's all in storage. I'm to go on a trip soon, I didn't want to leave magical paraphernalia lying around. Especially not in a room so poorly concealed that two inexperienced kids managed to find it. No offense."
"None taken. When are you leaving?" Adrien asked, though he already knew the answer.
"As soon as possible, really. It's a trip I had to delay because of an unexpected contract, but the customer has been easier to deal with than I expected. The designs were sent to the workshops and my creative input is no longer required. So…"
"I see," Chat Noir murmured, slowly turning to inspect the room.
He couldn't push. Gabriel had warned 'Chat Noir' he would never discuss his family. The topic of Brazil was off limits, as was Alice's.
The boy did not quite know how to keep the conversation going. He improvised.
"Say! Do you have footage of tonight's battle? I could use constructive criticism."
His father shook his head.
"Not yet. TVI's crew was hypnotized and the fight did not get close enough to my company's buildings. I'd say 'try to drag the monster to one of my stores next time' but I'd prefer if you did not."
Chat Noir grinned.
"Alright. What about just observing my technique, then? I owe you for that tip on the pirouettes. If you could point out my other mistakes, I'd be super grateful."
His dad stretched, smiling.
"Well then," he murmured, "let's see."
Adrien followed him to the roof.
Forty minutes and fifty-two 360 spins later, Gabriel punched him in the solar plexus and followed that by a tap to the chin. His son coughed, jumping back.
"And that ," his father declared, "is why you don't beg for training when you're not willing to focus."
"Aouch."
"And do not whine, you are invulnerable."
"That was my pride. It is mortally wounded."
The joke earned him a snort and a roll of the eyes, but Adrien caught the hint of a smile on Gabriel's face. The designer walked to the door that led to the maintenance staircase.
"Go home and go to sleep, brat. You are dead on your feet."
"It's not that," Chat Noir muttered. "Just thinking of something else."
Gabriel gave him a pointed look.
"And I'm maybe a little tired," the teenager amended, "but I'm mostly thinking of something else."
"You are not helping your case."
The young hero scoffed and followed him inside. They walked back to the fake office in companionable silence. Chat fidgeted a little. Yes, he had something else on his mind and he wanted to blurt it out to the one person in the world who could possibly understand.
His father noticed his nervousness.
"No, no, no, I don't want to hear it," he stated as they walked out of the maintenance staircase.
"But-"
"No."
"But I haven't said anything!" Chat Noir exclaimed, watching Gabriel open his office's door.
"Yet."
"But-"
"But nothing. Whatever the problem is, I will not listen to it. Don't try."
Adrien pursed his lips. Gabriel gave him a side-look then walked down the secret passage. The boy scowled and followed.
"Alright then," he said.
His predecessor glowered at him, sitting down next to his watch but turned towards him.
Chat Noir raised his chin, smiling.
"I have a question."
"My rebuttal was no invitation to look for loopholes, boy."
Adrien pretended not to hear and went to sit on the corner of the table.
"How did you tell your Ladybug that you were Chat Noir?"
The only answer he got was a mumbled 'oh for god's sake', as his father turned to his watch and stared at it with the utmost focus.
"Come on!" his son pleaded. "It's an important question. The secret identity thing is supposed to be critical . It's practically a matter of national security."
"Before you can tell me how the fate of the world depends on my answer, let me say once again that I have no interest in teenage shenanigans."
"No teenage shenanigans involved. I swear."
"You are a terrible liar."
If he had dared to, Adrien would have grumbled a few choice words. As he was mostly a polite child, his mouth moved from side to side but he didn't say a word.
Gabriel rolled his eyes.
"What have you done?"
"I asked Ladybug on a date."
"Congratulations."
"After she specifically told me she fancied the civilian me but wanted to move on."
His father breathed in, ran his hands over his face and massaged his temples.
"You sure like to make your life complicated."
"I'll let you know it complicated itself just fine without my intervention."
The designer groaned.
Chat Noir crossed his arms.
"I planned to tell her. After our first date. That keeps getting delayed by Akuma. It's just… I'm not sure I want to tell her."
"Ah."
"I mean, I don't want her to like 'civilian me'. I don't especially like civilian me. I want her to like me , the obnoxious flirt with the silly puns, because it is who I am, and I'm afraid if she knows who I am, she'll want me to be less Chat and more… the other guy."
"Ah," Gabriel repeated, tapping his watch with the tip of a finger. It wasn't glowing yet, which meant it was not done charging.
"And I wish I had someone else who dealt with that identity divide to talk to, but no such luck, sorry. So if you had tips, even tiny, insignificant tips…"
"I can't say I do."
Chat Noir sighed.
"It was worth a try. Thanks anyway," he replied.
"Though, if you want input from a fellow costumed hero, you could always call Bee," his father declared. "Again."
Adrien blanched, choked and sputtered.
Gabriel snorted.
"S-she called you," the boy squeaked.
"Of course she did. By the way, I'm curious, how did you track her down? She's not exactly on LinkedIn."
"I 'borrowed' mister Bourgeois' contact book," Chat Noir mumbled. "I figured he would have her phone number, you know, for emergency purposes."
"That was both smart and incredibly stupid."
The teenager cleared his throat and looked away.
"I'm sorry?"
He suspected his father's reaction at that was 'raised eyebrows' at best and 'shooting daggers' at worst. He didn't check, staring at the butterflies in their aquariums instead.
After a minute, he cleared his throat.
"So did that call go well?"
"She expressed some concern over the concern I caused you. And by that I mean she yelled at me for ten minutes because 'the kitten was worried sick'."
Adrien winced.
His father smirked.
"That didn't go quite according to plan, did it, boy?"
Chat Noir buried his face in his hands, dragging the tips of his fingers down his cheeks.
Not exactly.
Gabriel seemed to find the situation hilarious.
"Bee is both exceedingly reckless and straightforward. You will never get her to react like you want her to. I hope you learned your lesson."
"She wasn't supposed to tell you I contacted her," Chat Noir mumbled.
"It would of course have been impossible for me to figure that out had she abstained. I don't see how I would ever have suspected the one Miraculous holder I'm on speaking terms with. It would have been such a baffling mystery."
Adrien's grimace went from pained to tortured.
"Okay, okay, I get it. You can stop now."
Gabriel shook his head, turning away to hide his Cheshire cat grin.
His son studied his profile.
"You are not angry," he remarked.
"Luckily for you, Anne-Laure knows me well enough not to anger me unless she intends to. That being said, do not pull something like this again. My son and assistant are already conspiring to coddle me. There is no need to get my old friends involved."
So much for Nathalie's 'secret' plans.
"Alright. I won't do it again," Adrien promised. He paused for a second, then smiled. "You know, you seem to be doing much better."
Gabriel tilted his head to the side.
A moment went by.
"I think I am ," he replied.
###
Strange how quickly you grew used to hearing another set of keys opening the door to your apartment. Strange how, after years of sleeping alone, you found you were not averse to feeling your mattress shift under someone else's weight, even if it meant that you had to lay on an ever so slightly inclined surface and you could not stop noticing it. Strange how you didn't mind a presence at all, when your home had been quiet and silence from the moment you had moved in.
Nathalie had expected more of an adjustment period.
Gabriel did not drop by every evening. 'Every other night' was more like it. Still, he came, quietly slipping into bed in the early hours of morning when his vendetta kept him out late at night, or knocking at the door at eleven or so the other days. He waited for Adrien to go to bed before slipping out of the mansion to drive to Nathalie's, as if the boy was not smart enough to notice his father's absences. Of course, Gabriel's standards of behavior around his son bordered on the Victorian. He would kiss Nathalie in front of the boy - Adrien knew they were seeing each other, the charade was up - but it would be quick pecks on the lips, good morning kisses, nothing more. If caught demonstrating the slightest bit of inappropriateness, Gabriel would get incredibly flustered (which you could only notice if you knew him well and watched very hard for the signs).
He would say he had an example to set. Clearly, he was insane.
At some point, Nathalie would have to tell Adrien to find himself a sane role model, preferably before his father's notion of acceptable displays of affection could mess him up for life.
At some point.
She walked out of her shower at half past eleven on a Monday night, dried her hair, brushed her teeth, then slipped into a nightdress and made her way to the kitchen. She stopped in front of her bedroom and peeked inside. She half-expected to find Gabriel sitting at her desk with his laptop and a pile of paperwork. Instead, she found him lying in bed with his laptop and a notepad, which did not surprise her at all.
Gabriel had showered before her so he was squeaky-clean, with hair tousled beyond recognition. He kept brushing it back, wincing when an unruly lock dropped back to tickle the corner of his eye. He raised his eyebrows at Nathalie, who smiled and pointed outside. She left him to his work.
She would join him in a moment. She just had to locate her phone, which was somewhere in the kitchen, as far as she remembered. She walked on a bobby pin on her way. She picked it up then looked around for the others . There had to be at least one by the front door, and five others between said door and the bedroom. Nathalie only found four. She dropped them on the kitchen counter, next to her… phone.
I swear I can only find things when I stop looking for them.
She plugged the phone to its charger, checking the sixteen email notifications she had received since Gabriel's arrival, not two hours before. Most were forwards of his emails, though Jagged Stone's assistant had sent two pages of clear feedback on the test garments Stone's dancers had received. It was a direct translation of the musician's quick "all of it is just great, I mean like the blue ones could use some minor changes but don't sweat it". A quick look at the email confirmed that the adjustments needed would not delay the production of the final pieces (the few that weren't done yet). Stone tended to prefer to work with young talents, people he could help obtain the recognition they deserved. However, for this specific tour, working with Gabriel had been the best possible choice: he had the most experience designing dance costumes and had ironed out the kinks before they could make themselves known. Nathalie had stood by Stone's choreographer's side as he studied the original designs and she had seen the man's face go from guarded to surprised to smiling. "I can actually work with this," he had exclaimed, with the tone of someone who was not usually that lucky.
The adjustments could wait for the first four shows to be over. They would not require Gabriel's direct involvement. Every single outfit would be complete for the first show of the tour, on the upcoming Saturday.
Nathalie spotted a fifth bobby pin under the kitchen table. She collected it and put it away with the others. She sighed as she did so but caught herself smiling.
For an instant, she stared at her phone and considered emailing her mother.
"You were right," she could have written. "I'm seeing that 'dreamy' man."
Then she realized she had not talked to her mother in five, maybe six years, or seven. She was not sure. They had argued about Nathalie not caring about something that had happened to some family member, though what exact 'something' was anyone's guess. Nathalie did not remember. The rest of her family had drifted away much earlier than Aurélie. Her father had called her back in 2012, but that had been to ask for her help with tax evasion. She was good with numbers.
There was not a single personal contact in Nathalie's phone. It had never mattered. Her life revolved around work. Everything else was a distraction. She had nothing to share and, until now, nothing she wanted to.
Her apartment was a place where she went to sleep. Her overpriced home theater system was a background noise machine she used when she had to wipe her mind clean. Her designer furniture was there to fill the space in a flat that matched her generous paycheck, yet she could not remember ever interacting with some of the chairs or sofas. Her dining table was a eight seater. She used it as a desk.
She could not be bothered to maintain relationships her work did not benefit from. She had no understanding of the concept of loneliness. She was satisfied alone. She was happy alone.
Against all odds, she no longer wanted to be.
She returned to her bedroom and slipped into bed, next to a Gabriel who shifted a little to the side to make room for her. He didn't look away from his laptop's screen, even when Nathalie scooted closer and wrapped an arm over his belly. She felt him relax, however. He breathed out and smiled.
"Seems everything will be ready in time for Stone's show," he said after a few minutes of reading his emails in companionable silence.
Nathalie gave a little hum of approval. Gabriel moved on to the next mail, typed an answer, and so on.
She inched closer, running her hand through his hair and squinting a little as she parted it from side to side. She was checking for roots. The eyebrows did not lie: he had gone grey long ago. She idly wondered if there was still some ash-blond hair to be found under all that bleach and wax. The man used more chemicals on his hair than she did, which was kind of an accomplishment.
He scowled, shook his head and tried to move away from her fingers.
Nathalie narrowed her eyes.
She flicked his messy hair to the side, which got Gabriel to click his tongue and glare.
"You hate that!" she exclaimed.
He glowered at her. She flicked his hair in the other direction.
"And here I thought the whole bobby pins thing was just childish of you. But you know exactly how aggravating it is!"
"It is not the same."
"It is exactly the same."
"You are an excellent liar, but I doubt even you could look me in the eye and tell me my hair is mesmerizing."
Nathalie grumbled, wrapping her arm around him once again. He smirked and returned to his work, dealing with an email from Stella Spotlight and reports from the Chinese workshops.
"I feel terribly unproductive," Nathalie ended up mumbling.
Not that she planned to get her tablet out and start working.
Gabriel chuckled. That good humor died down quickly. For the best part of a minute, he stared at his screen, lost in thought. He put his hand over Nathalie's. He seemed to hesitate, his nervousness clear in the way his entire body tensed.
"We are going to have to review my trip arrangements," he told her. "Maybe see about moving the departure date to next week."
Nathalie sat up.
What had he kept to himself this time?
Gabriel ran his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"I wouldn't say I have a lead, but… I have the closest thing to a lead I have had in years," he explained, turning his laptop so she could look at the screen. "I got some answers from…" - He sucked his lips in and bit down. - "From the young heroes. Not much to go by, but it's worth investigating."
He opened an ancient-looking picture of a strangely shaped bird drawn on moldy parchment. Even considering the age and style of the piece, the creature was odd, with a large head stunted wings, but a long train of colorful feathers.
Gabriel kept his eyes on the screen, making a point not to look at Nathalie.
"This Zharr," he announced. "I think I mentioned that Alice got her power from a minor deity, which will be the 'friend' I got in touch with. Hawk Moth is paired with an insane butterfly spirit named Bella. Zharr is another of them."
He tapped the space bar, moving to the next picture. It was a black and white photograph on yellowed paper that had to be a century old. It showed a masked woman wrapped in a shawl, whose dress parted on the front to uncover what looked like a dark, embroidered unitard. You couldn't see an inch of the woman's skin but her hair was black, curly and fell to her hips.
"Zharr is a peacock spirit," Gabriel continued. "However, he is best known as the 'Firebird', thanks to his flamme-summoning powers. His heroes go by variations of that name. The latest was an American woman who was photographed in New York in 1895, after saving the life of the Attorney General. She vanished two years later and was never found again. Neither was Zharr's Miraculous."
Nathalie frowned.
"Where was she last spotted?"
She suspected she was about to hear 'the Amazonian rainforest'. She was wrong.
"Portland," her lover replied. "However, Hawk Moth seemed to believe he would find the miracle stone in South America, and I figure I can follow the leads he followed. If I discover where he travelled to, I might find more information about Alice. I know there is little hope, but I have to try."
His assistant forced herself to breathe normally. She had been about to take a deep breath, but did not want him to misinterpret her reaction. She did not want to sound impatient. She was not impatient. She could not have put a name on her feelings if she had tried.
"What have you found so far?" she asked.
"Nothing. But going back to Pacaás Novos with a new outlook might help me spots details I missed so far."
###
Adrien had never played so much basketball in his life. His coach was still nursing that 'broken leg' he had contracted with Nathalie's help, which gave Adrien some free time after class. He spent that time enthusiastically playing basketball in the courtyard, because there was now a basketball hoop in the courtyard, installed there at his father's request. Adrien had not asked (he would never had dared). It was all Gabriel's idea. Well, it was maybe Gabriel's idea. Marinette having yelled at him to get one was a distinct possibility.
The boy wanted to show how grateful he was, so he practiced.
It was exactly what he was doing after school on Tuesday the sixth when a grappling hook flew above the courtyard's walls, hit the ground, then was slowly heaved up by whoever had thrown it from the street.
"What the..." the teenager murmured.
"Now that's new," Plagg commented, landing on his shoulder and hiding under his shirt.
The grappling hook anchored itself to the metallic fence at the top of the wall.
Adrien frowned and watched, ready to transform.
Someone heaved themselves up. The first thing the boy saw was a yellow baseball cap that obscured a woman's face, then sunburned shoulders under a dusty white tank top, then a pair of ripped jeans.
The woman threw herself over the metallic fence and crashed into the courtyard, backside first.
"Crap, that was higher than I remembered," she mumbled, getting to her feet and trying to recover her grappling hook by pulling on it. "Damn it."
Adrien gaped.
"This is going to get interesting," Plagg whispered, giggling.
His holder blinked.
"Ah, uh, Mrs.?" he called, raising a hand to catch the intruder's attention.
She turned to him, her blond ponytail bobbing behind her. Her hair was messy and dirty. Her eyes were hidden behind aviator sunglasses, not to mention under her baseball cap. Her skin was various shades of suntanned to burn, with the brighter marks of different shapes of sleeves all over her shoulders and arms. She was covered in scars and even had a few tattoos. Her clothes were cheap and patched up, just like her old army backpack. Still, you could not not recognize her. Be it in frame or features, she looked exactly like an older Chloé.
Anne-Laure Lenoir lifted her sunglasses, pushing her cap up with them. Her very blue eyes went wide.
"Holy shit, don't you look just like your mom!" she exclaimed, abandoning her grappling hook to join him. "Hello!"
He swallowed. It dawned on him that his father was going to kill him. Well, to kill Chat Noir, not that it made any difference.
"H-hi?" he stuttered. "I-I'm sorry, but… who are you?"
She beamed, tilting her head to the left then to the right to look at him from all angles.
"I'm Anne-Laure. Old friend of your mom," she replied, fishing into her bag to find a pack of cigarettes. "Got you a Maya the Bee plushie Alice swore you took everywhere, in case it rings a bell."
"It… does ring a bell," Adrien replied, watching her cup her hands around a cigarette as she lit it.
Plagg had hidden himself well but the young hero could feel him wriggling.
"Anyway," miss Lenoir continued, "I couldn't use the main gates because of reasons. Is your dad home?"
"He is," Gabriel replied from the house's entrance. "Would you mind keeping your second hand smoke away from my son?"
The visitor turned away from Adrien, blew a cloud of smoke out, then turned to Gabriel with a grin.
"Hey there, Sourpuss. Long time no see."
###