Adrien woke up at seven.
He jumped out of bed, ignoring Plagg's disgruntled moans, then tripped over a cardboard box he had forgotten about, then ran out of his improvised bedroom to get to the kitchen. Once there, he opened the fridge and made a mental list of its contents.
Nathalie, who seemed to live on probiotic yogurt, bread, frozen vegetables and little more, had restocked her kitchen to accommodate the presence of a new tenant. The fridge was packed full, the cupboards were packed full, cereal boxes were lined on top of the cupboards themselves. She had ticked every item off her mental checklist and sighed in contentment after emptying the groceries bag and putting everything away. Cans were stacked on top of each other in the cupboards, neatly ordered. The cereal boxes were perfectly parallel and sorted in alphabetical order. The vegetables were in the vegetables drawer of the fridge, and twelve eggs had been taken out of their packages to be placed in the little egg holes of the door.
Adrien took six eggs and a pack of milk out, got flour out of the second cupboard from the left (and salt), then found a bowl and started working.
He had thought hard and long about the previous evening, from Nathalie's reaction to Bella's situation. He had come to the conclusion that there was not a single decision they could take that would not cost someone something . Even if Hawk Moth had been stopped, nothing could go right. It looked like the days to come would be dark and depressing, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
Well. When there was no light at the end of the tunnel, you checked your pockets for a flashlight.
"What are you making?" Plagg asked, finally emerging from the bedroom.
The Kwami landed next to him and watched him mix the flour, the eggs and mix in the bowl. With a fork. There was no whisk to be found in the drawers.
"Pancats," Adrien replied.
"Panwhat?"
"Pan. Cats. It's pancakes, but with ears. My mom used to make them."
Plagg observed some more.
"When have you last cooked?"
Adrien pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks.
"Not so long ago. Like, five, six years? I remember just fine!"
The Kwami stared at the batter with a dubious expression.
"Maybe we could use Cataclysm on it to get rid of the lumps."
"Or maybe you could just let me whip it until they're gone!" his chosen mumbled.
"If you think it's best…"
Adrien rolled his eyes, sighing. He kept mixing the batter, managing to obtain a more or less smooth substance where you could only find average sized lumps. He would just avoid pouring them in the pan.
Armed with butter and a ladle, he greased the pan and poured the first pancake. He made sure not to make it too large, to leave room for the ears, then added two triangles of batter on top of it. 'Triangle' being the general idea and not the final result. It didn't matter at all in the end, because that pancake ended up on the floor when he tried to flip it.
It had always seemed so effortless when Alice did it.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's try again."
He cleaned the mess up, made a new pancake, and flipped it with the help of a cooking pan lid. He had managed to prepare six of them when Nathalie walked out of the room and, if you averaged the burned sides and the raw sides, they were even decently cooked!
Nathalie stopped at the room's entrance and blinked.
"What are you… cooking?" she asked.
Adrien grinned.
"Pancats! It's like pancakes, but with a little more flair ."
She blinked again, then looked briefly pained as recollection hit her. 'Pancats' were one of Alice's favorite treats. Nathalie wiped the sadness from her face and smiled, seating herself at the table.
"Sounds delicious," she replied.
"'Sounds'," Plagg murmured.
He wouldn't look at Nathalie. As a matter of fact, he kept his back turned to her and his ears flattened. But he had not managed to resist the jab.
Adrien ignored him. He grabbed two plates, served the pancakes he had prepared, and brought them to the table. Then he ran back to the cupboards to get sugar and cassonade.
"Here," he said, putting both packs on the table and sitting in front of Nathalie.
"Thank… you," she exclaimed, with the slightest hesitation. To be fair, the pancats didn't look that appetizing. The last one Adrien had made was slightly less burned on the top, but wasn't what one would call mouthwatering. "It looks delicious."
"I'll do better with the next ones, I swear," he promised. "Sugar?"
Nathalie shook her head and reached for the cassonade, dumping some of it in the middle of her pancake. She went to fetch forks and knives, since Adrien had forgotten them, then spread the cassonade over her pancake and folded it.
She did not grimace when she took her first bite, much to the teenager's relief.
They ate in silence, with Nathalie shifting uneasily on her seat for the best part of five minutes.
"I am sorry for yesterday," she ended up saying. "I shouldn't have yelled like that."
Adrien tensed a little, looking away.
"It's fine," he replied. "I get it."
She studied his face but made no further comment.
"But we will have to discuss Bella," Adrien added. "Whether you want it or not. There is knowledge she gave to mister Kubdel that no human should have, and we need to know what she told him. And that box is too cruel a punishment. And there are… other questions we have to ask her."
That I have to ask, he thought.
Maybe mister Kubdel had told the truth about what he knew about Alice's fate, but nothing proved his Kwami was as ignorant as he was.
"That 'Fu' person…" Nathalie replied. "Have you contacted him? Can we expect him to show up soon?"
Adrien shook his head.
"We haven't been able to get in touch with him at all. Volpina - an Italian hero - is trying, but from what I have heard… it might not be Master Fu who'll come back with the Turtle Miraculous. He is looking for a replacement."
She massaged the bridge of her nose.
"Perfect. Just. Perfect."
"Anyway, we can talk about Bella tonight, or tomorrow, when things are a little calmer." - Adrien stuffed a square of pancat into his mouth. - "Today, I'm going to school."
"You are ? I can get you a doctor note for the next week, really."
Adrien took two more bites, chewed and swallowed.
"I want to go. Everyone in my class was Akumatized except Marinette. Everyone . I want to know how they are taking the news. And then there is Alya and her blog. She hasn't posted anything about Hawk Moth's capture, so I think she figured out he's Alix's father. I want to know what she plans to do." - And if she would write an article about the actual truth , he didn't say. - "And then, of course, maybe someone talked to Alix herself."
Nathalie mulled over that.
"I expect her family is under police protection, so that's unlikely."
Adrien closed his eyes, absorbed her words (though he was well aware that she was right), then breathed out.
"I'll see. Anyway, I'll take the Cat Bus there…" - Nathalie obviously didn't catch the Totoro reference. - "And I'll get back here after… What day is it and what am I supposed to do after class, anyway?"
"Nothing. You are free. Your father cancelled all of your after-school activities."
"He did ?"
"Yes. He did the same for all of your upcoming photoshoots. I hear the company is scrambling to find a replacement, but it will most likely be Hugo Duranch."
"Oh. Oh. Good for him," Adrien commented, vaguely remembering a blond boy he had met twice after he had appeared in a video clip. "He's nice."
"I couldn't say. Anyway, your evenings are free, your curfew is nine on school days, ten on weekends, and might be stretched as far as midnight for special events. Also, you are to warn me before bringing friends over."
He stared at her. He wasn't used to be allowed out of the house without the supervision of a bodyguard.
"Huh, that's… it?" he asked.
"That was roughly what my mother went with when I was your age. We were also feuding about tattoos, but I'll simply say that, in retrospect, I am thankful she would not let me get one, especially in the location I wanted it on. I'm sure you can see the wisdom in waiting a few years to take decisions that permanent."
Adrien gaped. Even Plagg had turned to Nathalie.
The boy frowned.
"Where did you want it?"
"In a place that would have guaranteed me a very different line of employment," she replied. "All of that to say: the rules are simple, follow them, have fun."
She resumed eating, cutting her pancakes into little pieces which she ate without the slightest grimace. Adrien appreciated that, because the more he ate of his own, the more the he felt like spitting the burned parts out.
"What about your day?" he asked when the silence grew heavy.
"Well. I have to go out and file for unemployment, for a start. Then I was planning to see what kind of positions are available at the moment, to send a few resumes in."
"Oh. So Father will not hire you again?"
"He will not, and I would refuse anyway," Nathalie replied. She stood and went to the coffee machine, preparing a cup and pressing a series of buttons. The machine filled her cup. "That being said, I'm sure he will give me a stellar recommendation if asked."
Adrien had another question, pertaining not to Nathalie's work relationship with his father but to their relationship, period. He was hesitant to ask it.
He watched Nathalie put her cup down on the counter, then cover what was left of his pancake batter with cellophane and put it in the fridge. She came back to the table and frowned at his inquisitive look.
"Yes?"
He cleared his throat.
"Nothing."
She scowled but didn't push. Plagg snorted as if he had understood what his chosen had not dared to ask and thought the question was ridiculous. At least, it was how it felt to Adrien, who finished his plate in silence. He put his fork down, looked at the clock and paled.
"How is it eight already?" he gasped. He hadn't spent that much time preparing their breakfast, had he? "I need to go!"
He ran to his new bedroom to get dressed and grab his things, then hurried to the front door. Nathalie was waiting for him.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you there?"
"I'll be faster as Chat Noir," he insisted. "Don't worry."
Nathalie scowled. She clearly did not agree. However, she sighed and nodded.
"Have a nice day!" he exclaimed, nearly running out with Plagg dashing after him. He stopped dead in his tracks. "Please try to think of another solution for Bella. Even if it's a canary cage with golden bars. I need to talk to her, Nathalie. I need to ask her about my mom."
Nathalie paled, sucking in a breath. She bit her lower lip. She swallowed. She clasped her hands behind her back.
"I will give it some thought," she promised. "Have a nice day."
###
Marinette woke up at seven.
She dripped out of bed like a mass of exhausted goo, slipping down the stairs with the speed and wakefulness of a drugged snail. She stretched, scratched her head, yawned, and opened the trapdoor to the lower floor.
This was a brand new day. Maybe it would go well. Maybe it would not include dirty politics, criminals escaping the law, nor godawful parents harming their children. Maybe.
She took five steps down the stairs and found her parents talking with a police officer.
Her mother turned to her, face wrinkled with worry.
"Marinette!" she exclaimed, walking to the stairs. "I was about to come wake you up. I checked on you half an hour ago but you were sleeping soundly. Did you hear anything strange during the night? Footsteps? Anything?"
Tom, who was looking just as anxious, was watching them. So was the cop, though his expression was more concerned than worried.
"Did something happen?" Marinette asked, paling.
"Someone broke in during the night," Sabine explained, gesturing at the entrance. "They broke the window on the door downstairs, and they picked this lock. They took some money on the kitchen counter, possibly more, but we still need to check."
"You might have startled them before they could, ma'am," the policeman cut in. "You wake up real early, don't you?"
"Yes, yes," Marinette's father replied. "A little before four on most days."
"Then they might have tried to grab what they could from this floor before trying their luck on the cash register and safe downstairs. They would have scampered as soon as they heard noise. So, miss, did you hear anything at all?"
Marinette stared at him.
If thieves had broken the previous night, they had likely done so while she was out for patrol. She wouldn't have heard a thing, because she wouldn't have been there .
"I… No. I'm a really heavy sleeper, and if I had heard anything from downstairs, I'd have ignored it, since mom and dad get up early. I don't think anyone tried to open the trapdoor to my room either."
Not that she had heard Sabine checking in on her half an hour before.
"They most likely didn't try the bedrooms," the cop commented. "Petty thieves like that don't want to be caught." He turned to Tom. " We should make a list of what was stolen. Where do you keep your valuables?"
Marinette's father accompanied the man downstairs. Sabine sighed and closed the door behind them, then reopened it and tapped the broken lock.
"Why did it have to happen?" she murmured. "Frankly…" She looked up at her daughter. "Can you check your room? Your father and I would have heard the stairs creaking, but you never know."
The teenager stared at her.
Her stomach lurched.
"Y-yes, mom, of course!" she replied, climbing the stairs to her room.
Then she slammed the trapdoor shut, ran to the cupboard on her desk, opened the third drawer and got her diary box out. That was where she had hidden Candy Warper's cursed candy cane.
"What's happening?" Tikki asked, landing on Marinette's shoulder.
The young girl got the keys out of their own hiding place and unlocked her diary box.
Her diary was there.
The candy cane was gone.
"Ooooh no," Tikki whispered.
Marinette stuffed half her fist in her mouth to stop the stream of curses she was about to shout. It came out of her nostrils as a long, high-pitched noise.
She did not bother checking anything else because there was nothing else worth stealing in the room. She was going to kill someone, be it Anne-Laure Lenoir or Gabriel Agreste.
She threw some clothes on and ran back downstairs.
"Nothing is missing," she told her mother, trying to appear serene. "Do I need to stay for the police, or should I go to school?"
Sabine frowned.
"Are you feeling well enough for school?" she asked.
Marinette blinked in confusion before remembering that she was supposed to be sick.
"Oh. Oh, yes. I think I ate something I shouldn't have yesterday. I'm feeling peachy. "
"If you are sure," Sabine replied, looking concerned still. "But if you feel faint, come back immediately. "
Marinette dashed to the fridge, pretending to get herself a suitable breakfast.
"Of course, Mom!" she promised before drinking a yogurt. "But I told Mylène I'd see her early so I could get a summary of what I missed yesterday. I should hurry."
Two seconds later, she was out the door.
"Don't overexert yourself!" her mother called after her.
"Noooo! See you lateeer! Have a nice day!" Marinette shouted back, racing down the stairs.
She burst out of the house and raced towards the school. She turned to enter the metro station and transformed as soon as she found a quiet corner.
The first place she went to was the hospital where Anne-Laure Lenoir was supposed to be kept for observation. The woman was gone. Her room was occupied by another patient.
Ten minutes later, Ladybug barged into the Grand Paris. The mayor was not hard to find: he was on his way out when she arrived, which saved her from having to track him down. He looked puzzled when he saw her, then worried. Chloé was also in the hallway and gaped at the look on Ladybug's face.
The young heroine ignored her classmate and went straight for the mayor.
"Where. Is. SHE ?" she yelled.
"Ladybug… I-I am not sure I know who you are talking a-about," André stuttered. That was a patent lie. He was watching Chloé's reaction out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh, really ?" Ladybug snapped. "Should I elaborate ?"
"W-we should go to my office," he suggested. Marinette could have sworn he was about to faint. "It is quieter. We won't be disturbed."
She did not have to say 'lead the way' nor 'start moving'. One look was enough. The politician escorted her to the elevator.
Once the doors had closed on them, he lost what was left of his composure.
"Ladybug, I beg you to never mention her in front of Chloé. Ever . My daughter was told a carefully crafted story meant to preserve her from some dark truths, and I will not see her heart broken."
"Oh, yes, carefully crafted stories and unpleasant truths! How am I not surprised?" Marinette spat. "That's your solution for everything!"
He looked at her with tired eyes and a bleak expression. She crossed her arms but calmed down.
"There is a complicated family history at work," he told her. "One that I do not intend to share, but know that Chloé has no one else but me for good reason . Some topics are not to be brought up around her! I won't have her investigate matters that can only harm her. She is only a child."
"I am not here to get Chloé involved!" Marinette snapped. "I am here to know where your backstabbing thief of an ex-wife vanished to!"
The mayor sighed. The elevator stopped on the next floor, and he pushed every other button to get it moving again.
"I have no idea where she is ," he declared. "I said my goodbyes yesterday evening, when she left the hospital. If I know Anne-Laure well, she's half a continent away by now. Her only endeavor for the last fifteen years has been to keep five-hundred miles between her and Paris at all times. Check the airports and the train stations."
Marinette would have stormed out if the elevator had not been moving. She had to wait for it to stop and for the doors to open. The mayor took that as an opportunity to keep talking.
"What did she do?" he asked, with the slightest frown.
"Stole a dangerous magical artefact. 'Allegedly'," Ladybug added, since she was talking to a politician. She crossed her arms and stared at the doors, waiting for them to open. "Which she couldn't have done if she had been arrested for assault like she should have been."
The elevator finally stopped and Marinette elbowed her way out before the doors were fully open, leaving the mayor stunned and worried. She ran all the way through the corridor, barging through the first open door she saw, then dashed past a shocked maid to jump out of the window.
She crossed the street.
The Agreste's house was no longer on lockdown. It looked like it always did: imposing, respectable and deserted. She smashed the doorbell a few times, waited about thirty second, then just propelled herself over the wall and into the courtyard.
The window to the dining room was open, so she got in that way, then started looking for mister Agreste. He was not in his office. He was not in his study on the first floor. The door to the master bedroom was open on buckets of paint and rolled up wallpaper, and all the furniture was gone. Ladybug was not about to knock on any bedroom door, however, so she tried her luck downstairs.
After some wandering, she heard some noise, and followed it to the kitchen.
Mister Agreste was standing by the stove with her back to her, wearing impeccable grey pants, grey waistcoat and a white shirt. His white jacket was folded on the back of a chair, a few steps away.
He was cooking.
He was also purposely ignoring her.
She crossed her arms.
"So," she said, trying to sound both composed and disdainful. "Which one of you did it? Was it you, or was it miss Lenoir?"
Gabriel didn't turn. He kept his full focus on his cooking pan, and pushed its content around with a spatula. The smell of grease and fried eggs filled the air. Marinette's stomach lurched.
"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about," he replied.
"The candy cane. The cursed candy cane. It was stolen from my room."
He peeked at her, mildly curious.
"Then I sure hope it was Bee."
"No one else knew I had it," Marinette snapped back. "Except you, Adrien and miss Sancoeur."
Mister Agreste pulled the pan out of the fire and turned the stove off.
"Then it has to be Anne-Laure," he commented, taking a plate and emptying the contents of the pan on it. Ladybug nearly heaved at the sight of the bacon omelette. It was too early in the morning for greasy meals. Yet, Gabriel didn't seem to mind. He sat down at the kitchen table with a smile on his face. "Do you want some?" he offered.
Her stomach nearly escaped through her nostrils.
"No."
"You don't know what you are missing," he replied, taking a first bite. "And I am positive it was Anne-Laure. Did she vanish already?"
Ladybug stared him down. It didn't work, because he looked at his plate and not at her.
"I assume she did," she answered. "It's not like I would know where to look."
Gabriel swallowed another bite, then looked up with an absolute late of concern.
"Have you asked André Bourgeois?"
"I have, as a matter of fact, but it looks like he is only helping her get away with aggravated assault. He didn't know about the candy cane and he doesn't know where she is."
Mister Agreste stabbed a piece of bacon.
"I'll give her a call," he promised before stuffing the piece of meat into his mouth. "But you might as well consider the fetish gone. For what it's worth, Fu gave it to her. She'll give it back."
"For what it's…"
Ladybug stopped at that and groaned. She wanted to strangle him, just as much as she wanted to strangle Anne-Laure.
"There's a reason I didn't involve her in my nefarious plans," Gabriel said. "There is a reason I made sure she wouldn't know I had found Hawk Moth. Have you ever heard her talk about my wife?" Marinette shook her head. He gave the faintest shrug. "Figures. You would have understood." He took a sip of water. "Anne-Laure is a loose cannon."
Talk about the cat calling the kettle black.
All of a sudden, Marinette couldn't take it anymore. His attitude. His mocking politeness. His stupid omelette.
"What are you doing? " she yelled.
He looked at her.
"Eating?" he replied. "I'm famished."
"What. Are. You. DOING?" Marinette shouted again. "You nearly killed someone, you ruined lives, you broke your son , and now you are here just…" She gestured at his now empty plate. "Eating breakfast as if nothing happened? What are you doing? "
"Nothing," Gabriel said. He raised his eyebrows at her and explained himself. "I am doing nothing. There is nothing I can do."
"Noth-" Marinette stomped to the table. "You could be apologizing to your son. You could be making some use of the second chance… third chance, or is it tenth chance you were given and don't deserve! You could be doing something! "
Mister Agreste pushed his chair away and stood, picking his plate up. He went and put it in the dishwasher, along with his fork and knife. He straightened up, back turned to Ladybug. He joined his hands behind his back, intertwining his fingers.
"When I was about Adrien's age, my father started rotting," he said. He walked to the window, looking outside. She frowned and studied his profile. His expression was, as usual, inscrutable. "I would say he fell ill, but that would not adequately describe the agony he went through. People will tell you cancer is a monster that devours you from the inside, and everyone knows how horrendous of an illness it is, and yet they don't. You can't know until you have seen it for yourself."
Ladybug shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uneasy. She had no idea what to make of that. She wished she could untransform and have Tikki step in, but it was not an option. Instead, she crossed her arms.
"So, what kind of reaction are you expecting, exactly?"
Mister Agreste turned to her.
"Don't worry. I'm not looking for your compassion. This is a parallel, not a sob story."
"Then what point are you trying to make?"
He breathed in.
"My father was a good man. He was an amazing man. To this day, I worship the ground he walked on, though he never knew that. He was given a long, excruciating death sentence that dragged on for years, and he endured it with the dignity of a king. He never complained. Not about the pain, not about how short his life would be. He did his best to comfort my mother. He spent time with me. He took care of me and, for as long as he could, he tried to steer me in the right direction. There is a lot I should have learned from him and didn't."
Marinette reached for her earrings but still didn't transform back. She frowned and waited.
Gabriel turned his back to the window and leaned against the windowsill.
"I wanted to run," he said. "Back then, at Adrien's age. I wanted to run. I ran . I was out there on the roofs, every single night, running and flirting with my future wife, trying to steal her away from her partner. I wouldn't tell her how bad things were because I knew she would have sent me home. I was there when my father was awake, of course, but at night I vanished. He was the most deserving man. He loved me, he sheltered me, he made me his priority, and I…" He trailed off and looked out the window. "Now, imagine being in Adrien's shoes, with a father who is not ill, who is not loving, and who is most certainly not deserving. He is entitled to some distance."
"All you ever gave him was distance," Ladybug pointed out.
Mister Agreste straightened up.
"And now he wants it," he replied, collecting his jacket from the chair he had left it on. "Crawling back to him with flimsy apologies and promises will accomplish nothing. We're well past the point where the wounds could be mended with words. Maybe there is hope that actions could help, over time, but at this very moment, there is nothing I can do. Which is why I am doing nothing ."
"I'm sure you can do better than that," Ladybug retorted, arms crossed.
"You don't get it. I don't think there was a single day in the last twenty years where I did nothing . It's part of the problem. I worked and worked until I disappeared. Doing nothing is likely a step in the right direction."
Marinette scoffed, grabbing the dirty pan from the stove and putting it into the dishwasher with Gabriel's plate.
"You sure seem to be enjoying it," she commented.
"Do I?"
She raised her eyebrows and let her eyes roam over him, from the impeccable shoes to the ironed pants to the impeccable jacket he was buttoning up. He didn't look especially distraught.
The tone of his answer bordered on mockery, and irritated her so much that she nearly missed the significance of his words.
"We all wear our suit of armor, Ladybug ," he said.
###
The mood at school was wrong. Adrien felt it as soon as he walked into the yard. Everyone was subdued. The students talked in hushed whispers. Some of them kept peeking at Ivan, who almost seemed to be patrolling. If he stopped and looked at a group too closely, they cowered. Adrien, who had just arrived and was making his way to Nino and Alya, saw him glower at two Terminale boys. They had to be seventeen at least, yet they went silent under Ivan's glare. He was scary for his age.
Adrien kept an eye on him as he joined his friends on the bench they were sitting on.
"Hi," he greeted them, still looking at their classmate. "What's going on here?"
"You're back!" Nino exclaimed. "Damn, dude, you missed a lot ."
Alya merely waved, busy scrolling down on her phone. Her expression was beyond dark.
Adrien grimaced.
"A lot?"
His best friend scooted closer, lowering his voice.
"You heard Hawk Moth was arrested, right?"
The blond nodded. Alya stopped looking at her phone and listened in, though she did not raise her head.
"And you know how Alix's dad had that car accident?" Nino continued. "Well. Turns out he didn't. He is Hawk Moth."
Adrien gave his best display of speechless horror.
"Yeah," his friend muttered. "Word got out real quickly. Alix's parents have friends who tried to go to the funerarium to bring flowers, except there was no longer someone to bring flowers to, and they connected that to the news… and their daughter is in another class."
At least it hadn't been Chloé. Adrien looked around and saw her sitting on another bench, perusing Vogue with Sabrina. He breathed in in relief. Slight relief. The rest of what he had learned was catastrophic.
"So what's going on with Ivan and why does it look like he's patrolling?"
"He is," Alya said.
Adrien watched their friend near the schoolyard entrance and turn back.
"Why?"
"Okay so everyone is gossiping ," Nino explained. "And yesterday, some Terminale guys were talking a bit too loudly about how Alix had to know who her dad was, and Kim was right next to them and he just turned around and suckerpunched one of them. Broke his nose. He's suspended."
Adrien ran his hands over his face.
"So Ivan is 'gently' reminding everyone that gossip sucks," the DJ said. "I mean he wouldn't hurt anyone but he looks like he could. Miss Bustier is also slamming anyone she hears making comments."
"There's only so much the teachers will be able to do," Alya commented, resuming her scrolling. "I mean, I'm surprised the news aren't in every newspaper yet. If I have them, I'm sure Nadja Chamack has them, among others."
"Thanks for not posting anything," Adrien murmured.
That startled the blogger, who frowned at him.
"Alix is our friend," she snapped. "I would never put her family in danger like that!"
"I know, I know!" the young model blurted out. "I mean, even just about Hawk Moth's arrest…"
"I have more than that," she said. "Footage of another Chat Noir, footage of our Chat Noir untransformed and being threatened by mister Kubdel…"
"You what ?" the two boys gasped.
"It was leaked to Youtube and taken out real quickly, but I've been up all night refreshing the search…"
By that point, Adrien was pale as a ghost. He stared straight into Alya's eyes, looking for signs of recognition, but he didn't find any.
"I hadn't heard of that," he said.
"Well, unless someone was up between precisely twelve past four and thirteen past four this morning, it's possible no one else saw it."
"Can we look?" Nino asked.
No, no, no, Adrien thought.
Alya looked around, squeezed closer to them, and put her phone in front of Nino, making sure no one else could catch the slightest glimpse of the screen. She opened the video. Adrien started shivering, cold sweat running down his back. The footage was blurry and overexposed, but you could recognize Alim Kubdel. His blade was glowing. Adrien saw himself as a pale silhouette with clothes stained dark brown. Just as Marinette had told him, he was not recognizable. Between the motion blur and the heavy contrast, his face was either a white shape or a pale trail. His hair was just as messy as Chat Noir's, and looked nothing like his trademark haircut. Even Nino didn't recognize him while watching closely.
What Nino did was heave.
"Okay okay turn it off," he blurted out. "Did we hear from Chat Noir at all ? That's a lot of blood."
"Yes," Alya replied, to Nino's blatant relief. "He was spotted a few times yesterday."
"Alright. Alright," the boy muttered, still shaken. "Man, that's nasty. Looks like mister Kubdel is going to spend a loooot of time in prison. Shit. I hope Alix will be-"
"He'll go there for assault and attempted murder," Alya cut in, closing the video and putting her phone away. Her expression had grown gloomier still.
"Huh? Yeah, I guess they can add that to the whole supervillain deal."
Alya took a deep breath, looking straight ahead. Adrien chewed the inside of his cheeks, knowing full well what she was about to say.
"They'll try," she told them. "It will be the trial of the century, too."
Nino winced.
" But? " he insisted. "Alya, I don't like it when you make that face."
"But the attempted murder is the only thing that will stick. How do you prove someone was wearing a mask?"
###
Plagg liked valerian tea.
It wasn't that it smelled good, though it did. It worked on Adrien. It put him to sleep.
The boy had spent his school day pretending to be fine. He was worried sick about the Kubdel girl, which meant he had kept his ears wide open to every rumor and judgemental remark a herd of human children could come up with. Plagg, who had seen his heroes executed, murdered, driven out of town and burned at the stake, had a thick hide and had rolled his eyes in boredom at every stupid comment made by Adrien's schoolmates. Unfortunately, the boy was soft. The more he heard, the sadder he felt. The sadder he felt, the harder the nonsense he heard hit him (meanwhile, his partner fumed more and more). By the end of the day, Plagg had tried to console him by telling him he had done everything right, but that had done little to cheer the child up. Even a 'it's not your fault people are idiots' had not been enough.
Plagg was not Tikki. He was not good with words. There was little more he could say.
He had watched Adrien drag himself back to Nathalie's, then drop on his bed to stare listlessly at a turned off television.
Nathalie had been busy browsing websites on her laptop when they had arrived, but had put that aside to prepare pancats for supper, with what was left of the batter Adrien had prepared in the morning.
Plagg was still angry at her and would remain so until she released Bella, but he had to admit she was making efforts. The valerian tea, after the meal, had been a nice touch. It wasn't like Adrien had passed out after the first sip, but the drink had kept him drowsy all evening. He had tried watching the news, but lost interest when it had became clear that Nadja Chamack was rehashing the mayor's speech. Some big-shot law teachers had been called to give their enlightened predictions on the future trial, but they had merely repeated Alya's analysis in much fancier words.
By half past eight, Adrien changed channels at random and retreated to his bedroom, leaving Nathalie to learn the wonders of ant colonies as explained by some old man with a really deep voice.
Unsurprisingly, they heard the TV turn off not two minutes later.
Adrien curled up on his bed and started texting the cookie girl.
"So I finally know what Marinette tried to tell me all afternoon," he said.
Tikki's chosen had attempted to get some time alone with him for hours, but their respective best friends had not let that happen. Alya, who usually tried her best to push the two dimwits together, had been oblivious to her best friend's desperation and to Adrien's vivid interest in the girl.
"What was it?" Plagg asked, even though he didn't care.
"Someone stole the candy cane."
"It's Bee," the Kwami replied, since that was obvious.
"What? You knew about that?"
"Well, no ," Plagg drawled, "but who else would it be? Don't worry, she'll give it back to Fu once she's done with it."
"What makes you so sure she didn't steal it from him?" Adrien asked, suspicious in a way that made his Kwami proud.
"She couldn't have fished it out of the Mariana Trench on her own," he replied. "You need the Turtle transformation to get there."
The boy squinted, studied his face, then sighed. He typed something on his phone. The device buzzed a few seconds later.
Plagg yawned and curled up on the phone's charger. He watched Adrien type and type and type, then fall asleep with his phone still in his hand.
The Kwami perked up, waiting to see if his chosen would wake up, but it looked like he was sleeping soundly. The black cat flew up to the light switch and bumped into it to turn the lights off, then phased through the bedroom door. He really wanted to investigate why Nathalie had carefully kept her screen turned away from Adrien for the entire evening. Job listings were hardly confidential.
Cats were silent by nature, flying black cats even more so. Plagg darted to the ceiling and followed the wall to circle Nathalie, then slowly dropped to her level, landing on the shelves behind her chair.
Her screen was divided between a satellite map of made of dark green and brown, with forests wrapped around mountain and not a road in sight, and a document filled with dates and coordinates. Nathalie kept dragging the map from one side to another, stopping on cities south of the forest to type their names in her document.
Plagg doubted she would find many job offerings in Pacaás Novos.
He watched her study the map some more, crossreference her dates with news articles about Alice's initial disappearance, then browse through bank account histories, old schedules and flight plans. He let her log in on Gabriel's company network using ' 's' account to access accounting files, then landed next to her cup of coffee.
"What is it that you know and haven't told the boy?" he asked, making her jump.
She stared at him in utter shock for an instant, then slammed her laptop shut. Plagg rolled his eyes.
"You talked to Bella, didn't you?"
###