Chapter 6

"We need to visit Mr. Agreste today," Alya said, and Marinette's heart clenched.

"So soon? We haven't released the video yet," she protested.

They were gathered together at their usual table in the library during lunch. Sabrina joined them this time, and she just finished explaining how they could sneak Marinette's video to the police anonymously. Thankfully, Sabrina had connections through her father and could quietly hand over the video and Alya's meticulous notes without revealing their identities.

Sabrina planned to turn everything over that afternoon once school released for the day. Which left the others starting at Marinette as she squirmed under their scrutiny.

She sighed. "Fine," she relented. "We'll go today. But I'm not talking to him alone. If you're going to destroy my future in fashion then I'll take you all down with me." She pointed to each of them in turn.

Nino held up his hands. "Except me, dude. I think your chances are better off without me there. I'll hang out outside and wait."

"He has a point," Alya agreed. Marinette pursed her lips and finally nodded.

"Okay, yes, fine," she said. "But you're walking with us and standing outside that gate until we come out." Her gaze turned flinty. "No excuses."

"I'm okay with that," Nino said.

"I don't think I should go, either," Sabrina said. "The sooner I turn over that video to my father's friends, the faster we'll be able to get things moving. We shouldn't really delay this any longer."

"Fine," Marinette conceded, in exasperation. "You definitely need to keep us informed, however."

Sabrina bobbed her head. "Absolutely. I'll text Chloé once I'm finished. Maybe we could meet up this evening? Then you could share what Mr. Agreste said."

"That's acceptable."

After school, Marinette found herself pressing the button outside of the Agreste manor once again. Chloé and Alya huddled behind her, bravely pushing her forward. Nino ducked out of sight along the side, occasionally casting them sympathetic looks that did nothing to quell the rising butterflies in Marinette's stomach.

The optical eye popped out and Nathalie's voice filtered through the speaker. "Yes?"

"We're here to see Mr. Agreste, please," Marinette said, summoning the courage to speak clearly and without a single stutter.

"Mr. Agreste is not receiving visitors at this time," came the emotionless reply.

Marinette clenched her fists together. "Please, it's important. It's about Adrien," she added, playing the one card she knew would gain them access. Hopefully.

The camera retracted inside without another word.

Marinette stood there for a long moment, motionless.

"Well, that was a bust," Chloé said from behind her.

"Maybe she's just asking Mr. Agreste about it," Alya suggested.

They waited a couple of more minutes before Marinette sighed and turned to them. "It's clear what his response is. And we don't have time to wait around here forever. We have things to do."

She was about to walk away when the optical eye shot out once more. "Mr. Agreste will see you," Nathalie said and the gates to the manor clicked open.

The three stood for a moment, frozen in shock at the sudden admittance before Alya pushed Marinette ahead. "Go on, girl," she whispered.

Marinette slumped her shoulders. "And here I was hoping we could work on our own preparations for tomorrow's fallout," she said with a resigned sigh as she headed into the manor's grounds.

Inside, the three of them found themselves facing Gabriel Agreste, who studied them each in turn. Nathalie stood beside him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. The designer's appearance was exacerbated from as the last time Marinette saw him, and mild dishevelment now yielded a body which looked like it was just recovering from a bout of severe flu – which was to say he looked frazzled, worn, and incredibly exhausted. The dark bags under his eyes, faint before but pronounced now to the point they made his thin face gaunter and highlighted the gray-blue of his eyes, heavy-lidded with weariness. The ash-blond hair remained ruffled and slightly rippled like the last time she visited. Despite his stony exterior, Marinette suspected the fashion icon was very concerned about his son. Beside her, Chloé shifted as her lips pursed in critical observation, clearly antsy to remark on his state of disarray.

Marinette opened her mouth to take the lead before Chloé could say anything, figuring that Mr. Agreste wouldn't speak first, when he surprised them all by addressing them.

"I am told this is concerning Adrien," he began. "Though I assure you if you've interrupted my work with false pretenses I won't be pleased." The ice in his voice pierced Marinette.

"Adrien's miserable!" Chloé exclaimed.

"Chloé!" Marinette hissed. "Remember what we discussed about letting me speak?"

"Hmph!" the blonde tossed her hair behind her head.

However, it had the intended effect on Mr. Agreste. His mouth dropped open before he lowered his chin and narrowed his eyes. "Nonsense. He's perfectly happy with his grandparents." A flash of pain swept through his eyes before he clenched his jaw. "I saw him on Saturday."

"I visited him Sunday."

"Chloé!" A jab from Alya accompanied the blogger's low admonishment.

"Mr. Agreste," Marinette said, "Adrien feels that you can't win custody back."

The man's face darkened. "And what has drawn him to that conclusion?"

The fledgling designer stepped forward, eager to get control of the situation before Chloé could speak again and get them into deeper trouble. "We went out to Adrien's grandparents' estate yesterday," she explained, "and talked to him."

Mr. Agreste regarded them in surprise. "Hermine allowed you all to visit?" he asked.

"Hermine?"

"Adrien's grandfather."

She fidgeted with her fingers for a second or two. "Well," she drew out, "we didn't exactly see Adrien's grandfather... I'm not even sure he knew we were there."

Now Mr. Agreste looked intrigued. But before he could inquire further, Alya spoke up. "Adrien says that his grandfather might know the judge in charge of your case," she said. "Is that why you're worried you'll lose?" The older man frowned at the words once more. Alya continued. "Because if that's why you're worried, then I can tell you that you shouldn't be concerned. I don't think that judge will be in charge of Adrien's case by the time you go to court in a couple of weeks."

"Tomorrow," came the quiet reply.

The three girls stared at Mr. Agreste in shock. "What?" Marinette asked first.

"The court date was moved up to tomorrow," Mr. Agreste repeated in the same soft voice. "I received notice this morning."

Alya and Chloé exchanged a look full of panic. Even Marinette's eyes widened.

"What?" Marinette exclaimed, partly lost in her own anguish. "They can't do that. We don't have enough time to prepare."

"Prepare?"

Mr. Agreste's innocent question snapped her head up, where she locked onto his eyes. He studied her with passive stoicism, though his eyes shone with a curious gleam. Marinette blinked and attempted to smooth away the panic into something more innocuous – and she desperately hoped that Mr. Agreste didn't see through her facade. He tilted his head, as if trying to figure her out.

"We've been studying up on the legal system as well," she said, the words spilling from her before she could even form them completely in her mind. What would be safe enough for schoolkids to figure out that didn't involve dangerous investigations into criminal organizations?

She glanced to either side of her, catching Alya's puzzled face and Chloe's passively indifferent one and another idea shot to her mind.

"We did a bit of background research into the judge," she said, "since we figured your legal team would be able to get a lot more specifics on the laws than a bunch of kids."

Mr. Agreste blinked, and a faint ripple of guilt contorted his features for a brief moment before smoothing back into his blank mask. Guilt? She idly wondered if he had given up like they deduced. Uh-oh. Maybe he didn't really have a good defense planned at all. She gulped.

She needed to act.

"Adrien needs you," she blurted out, throwing her shoulders back. Mr. Agreste didn't say anything, but his frown deepened. She hurried ahead before he could ban her from the estate. "He needs his father. You might think he's better off with his grandparents, and maybe you feel you're too busy to devote the kind of time to him that his grandparents can now give, but he needs you. He's spent his whole life here and if he has spent all year making friends. He's one of the kindest people in the class, and is always willing to lend a hand to those who need help. But he's only able to be himself because he's comfortable here."

"So you just want Adrien back in your class?" Mr. Agreste asked.

"It's not that at all," Marinette said. "I want Adrien to be happy. He's in unfamiliar settings with unfamiliar people. Even if they are family, he's built up a family here."

"He is enjoying his time with his grandparents."

"But they're not you! You've been there for him his whole life. He might take the opportunity to get to know his extended family better, but he told me that he misses you. He wants to come back and live here with you."

Behind her, Chloé spluttered indignantly, and Marinette remembered too late that Adrien was supposed to be the one to tell Gabriel that fact. Ah well, things were moving a lot faster than they had previously anticipated.

Mr. Agreste didn't say anything for a long time. When at last he spoke, it was in a carefully controlled tone, as if he was channeling all of his effort into maintaining neutrality. "Adrien said that?" It came out in a near whisper, even softer than the designer's usual quiet voice.

Marinette nodded.

He averted his gaze and spent a few seconds studying the other two girls behind Marinette. When he returned his focus back to her, he shifted his shoulders ever-so-slightly. "It won't matter in the end," he said. "Hermine has the judge wrapped around his finger. The opportunity for a fair hearing appears quite remote."

She grinned, the smug confident smile of Ladybug about to deliver Rube Goldberg retribution upon an akuma. "Then you had better get prepared," she declared. "Because we've got this part covered." Her Ladybug confidence burst forth and she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "We'll take care of getting you a fair judge. We can show you what we've got and help you to prepare." She unhooked her backpack and started to dig through it.

"No."

She froze and looked up at Adrien's father. "What?"

"I appreciate your dedication to my son, but I'm sorry, I must decline your offer of assistance."

"Why?"

"If what you say is true, then you've done quite enough so far to help Adrien. I can take it from here." He stared at each of them in turn, his blue eyes focusing with intensity even as he attempted a small soft smile. "You've given me more than enough to think about."

Marinette bit her lip, frowning in thought for a moment before she nodded. "Okay. We'll go prepare for tomorrow also. Thank you for your time, Mr. Agreste."

They left without another word, but outside, Alya and Chloé began speaking simultaneously. "We have to tell Sabrina," Chloé said.

"We need to keep researching," Alya added.

Marinette held up her hands. "Calm down both of you. We still have time. Let's make sure the video is submitted to the proper authorities and then we'll convene in Chloé's hotel and go over our notes. If Mr. Agreste isn't adequately prepared, then it'll be up to us to help Adrien."

They reached Nino and Alya quickly filled him in on what happened inside the manor in a low voice. "Do you really think it will come down to that?" Chloé asked, turning to Marinette once Nino was caught up. "If Mr. Agreste needs our help, that's not a good thing."

Marinette planted her hands on her hips. "I can't just sit around and do nothing." She smiled. "Unless you would prefer I follow the judge around again?"

"No!" A chorus of voices exclaimed at once. Marinette chuckled.

"I thought not. Now, let's get moving. Alya, go get your notes and go with Chloé and pass them onto Sabrina. We need to get this video in before the trial tomorrow, and she needs to know our timetable has moved forward. Nino, go get your work and we'll meet up at Chloé's tonight. I'll bring some of my bakery's treats."

Their eyes lit up, even Chloé's. "Sounds great, girl," Alya said. "Let's get going. My mouth is already watering for those macarons." She walked away with Chloé, calling over her shoulder as she left, "and you better include my favorites!"

Adrien paced around his room for the dozenth time that night. He put on some music through his computer, but the soothing sounds did nothing to quell his anxiety. Something was up. His grandparents had been acting strange all evening long. They evaded his questions and canceled their usual night of activities with him. His grandfather retired early, citing exhaustion, and his grandmother merely followed without explanation. That left Adrien alone to his own devices.

The first thing he did upon returning to his room was pull up the Ladyblog, to see if there was any reports of an akuma attack. Finding none, he still couldn't really account for his grandparents' unusual behavior.

Pace, pace, pace, refresh the Ladyblog, pull up new music, resume pacing.

He couldn't even access his social media to talk to his friends because his grandfather had continued to block the pages through the Wi-Fi. He considered trying to hack through the system, but didn't have much of a talent for that and he didn't really care to try. He refreshed the Ladyblog again.

"Give it a rest, will you, Adrien?" Plagg whined from his spot on Adrien's bed, tucked just out of sight of the door should he receive any unannounced visitors.

"Something's wrong. I can feel it. Can't you, Plagg?"

"The only thing I can feel is the vibrations of your feet ruining my catnap," came the snarky reply. Adrien rolled his eyes. "When are you going to tell your grandfather about that passage your clumsy girlfriend discovered?"

"Her name is Marinette, and she's not clumsy," Adrien said. Plagg snorted in disbelief. "Well," Adrien amended, "okay so she's a little clumsy. But that's not the point. I'll tell him once I've explored it more. Do you think there are other passageways in the house?"

"Probably," his kwami replied with an enormous yawn, closing his eyes and curling back up on the sheet.

Adrien shook his head in exasperation. "Doesn't that intrigue you even a little bit?" he asked.

"Nope. It's intriguing though that you haven't denied the girlfriend part," Plagg said with a sly smirk.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Plagg! Would you stop it? Marinette is just my friend!"

The boy walked over to the bay window and stared out at the night, ignoring the cackling of his kwami behind him. The moon, neither full nor new but some dim phase in between, cast faint light over the yard. Adrien rested his arm upon the panes, recalling how he would often do the same while peering out of his room at home. It wasn't so much different than here, he realized. The only difference was if he slipped out of his room now, he wouldn't catch a ray of light shining beneath the crack of the door to his father's atelier as he worked late into the night.

A sharp pang struck Adrien at that. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as a wave of sadness cascaded over him.

He missed his father.

His eyes snapped open. "Plagg, we're going out tonight."

His kwami floated up from his nest in the bed. "What? But it's so warm in here," he whined.

"You can snuggle under the covers when we return," Adrien declared. "Plagg, Claws Out," he cried, thrusting his fist forward. Plagg's long moan of disapproval lingered even after Adrien donned his heroic outfit and bounded out of the window without a second thought.

He soared over the rooftops, his legs instinctively jumping and hopping in the direction of his home. Even if he didn't know the way, the tall Eiffel Tower looming over the city provided for a very nice focal point. In no time at all, he was perched on the rooftop of Le Grand Paris, smiling as he noticed some lights still on in his home. He leaped over, eager to peer into the windows.

He spotted his father in his office on the upper floor, hunched over his desk. Papers and books lay scattered around him. Gabriel had a pencil stuck behind his ear and another one twirling between his fingers as he flipped through a thick book. He paused, noted something in the margins, and continued flipping through the pages. Occasionally, he would stop and sketch something down in a large pad beside him.

Chat's ears drooped.

He should have known. His father was working as if it were just an ordinary day. As if his only son wasn't away from the manor. As if he didn't even care about him.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He turned and shot out his baton, flinging himself into the darkness, far away from his workaholic father and empty mansion.

Before he knew it, he found himself outside of Nino's apartment, staring into the window where the DJ would normally be sitting at his desk, remixing some music or working on schoolwork with his headphones on.

The room was dark, obviously deserted.

On a hunch, he headed over to Alya's place, wondering if his friend might have had a date with the blogger. It would lift his spirits to catch a glimpse of the young couple doting over each other. Or, knowing Alya, pouring over theories on the Ladyblog.

Alya's room was also dark and empty.

His sour mood now overtaking everything else in his mind, he swung around town aiming for Marinette's bakery. Surely Alya and Nino would be over there. The three of them would be laughing, eating delicious pastries provided by her parents, and having a great time. Without him.

But Marinette's cold and empty room put a stop to that line of thought.

It should have made him happy – knowing that his friends weren't enjoying themselves without him. After all, misery loves company, right? But his traitorous mind concluded that they must be out at a movie. Or other fun place. At this point in time he had no idea if there were any special events going on in the city, nor did he particularly care to look. He dove across rooftops – reckless and wild, tears leaking out of his eyes (from the sharp wind, he told himself).

He found himself at the top of the Eiffel Tower, stretched across one of the beams. His face pressed against the cool metal. He closed his eyes, reveling in the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair. A faint whirring noise caught his attention. He would recognize that sound anywhere. He shot up, eyes searching the landscape for a glimpse of his lady.

"Hello, Chat," she greeted, landing nimbly beside him. His face broke out into a giant goofy grin at her presence.

"My lady!" he exclaimed.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Such enthusiasm," she chuckled.

"I'm just happy to see you, as always," he said, bowing over her hand.

She pulled back just as his lips brushed her knuckles. "Not this happy, kitty. Is everything all right?"

He slumped over and sat back down on the beam. "Just some things going on in my personal life. I don't want to trouble you."

He felt her sit beside him and rest a small hand on his shoulder. "It's no trouble, Chat. We're partners."

He sighed, casting his eyes out across Paris. "Just feeling a tad blue today. I've been away from my family and friends for a while and I thought maybe they would miss me."

"And they don't?" He could hear her indignant dismay in her voice.

He chuckled, low and dark. "I guess not. My fa- family is busy, as usual," he added in a bitter tone. "None of my friends are home. They're probably out having a good time without me."

Ladybug squeezed his shoulder. He hadn't realized her hand was still there. "Or maybe your friends are working on schoolwork at the library. Or at each others' homes? It's a school night. I wouldn't be so hasty to jump to conclusions. And as for your family – maybe they're busy because you've been absent. They're trying to get as much work out of the way so when you do come back they can spend as much time with you as possible."

Chat didn't bother to correct the point – it would give too much away. He shrugged instead.

"I wouldn't give up on your friends just yet. But if you decide you want some new ones, you can always borrow mine." She giggled, and Chat's heart lifted out of his chest.

"You mean that, Ladybug?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied. "My friends are kind and would definitely welcome you."

A bit of his sass flared up. "Well, who wouldn't love to be associated with Paris' debonair cat of the night?" he asked, leaning into her.

She giggled again and pushed him away with one finger. "I see your cheer has returned. I'm sorry to leave you right now, but I really must be going. I have an important report due tomorrow. You could say it's worth my entire year's grade so far."

"Wow, I'm so terribly sorry for keeping you, my lady," Chat said. He stood, offering his hand to her. She accepted, and he helped her to her feet. He even forsook the usual attempt at planting a kiss on her hand. "Thank you, Ladybug," he said. "You've brightened up my night, more so than usual."

"You'll always be one of my closest friends, Chat. Have a good evening."

With one last radiant smile, she flung out her yo-yo and vanished into the inky darkness.

He watched her disappear into the night, his lips upturned into a smile filled with love. She offered up her friends to him just because he was feeling sad. He inhaled deep, closing his eyes and catching a whiff of the fragrant blossoms drifting on the wind. It wasn't nearly as pungent as the flower gardens around his grandparents' estate, but it smelled familiar. It smelled like home. He relaxed against the tall beam and gazed off as the lights twinkled and sparkled below him. All of Paris before him and he yearned for his home. He really was quite a house cat.

He didn't have time to revisit his friends but maybe one last swing by his home will suffice to soothe his aching heart. He shot over, perching across from his father's window in the same spot he sat a couple of hours previously. His father hadn't moved much from the last time he saw him. Chat took out his baton, using the camera to zoom in on his father's desk.

He watched as Gabriel took off his glasses. He set them down on the desk and scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing up into his hair. Chat almost snorted with laughter at the result – poofy flyaway strands sticking out every which way. His father smoothed his hair back down, settled his glasses upon his face again, and picked up the thick book Chat had spotted earlier. He enlarged the screen with a pinch of his fingers, zooming in to enhance the details of the book and reveal the title.

Custody Laws of France.

The baton slipped from Chat's grasp. He stood there, stunned, as his weapon clanged across the rooftop. The sound jerked him from his stupor and he scrambled for the staff, lunging forward. His fingers curled around it just as it bounced off the edge. Desperate, he flicked up the camera and pointed it back at his father.

His breath caught in his chest as his lungs constricted. He watched his father with wide eyes and breathless hope.

Gabriel scratched something out in his notebook, then scribbled for a few minutes before turning his attentions back to the book. He reached across his desk and pulled another open book toward him, his finger drifting along the page. Occasionally, he would pause and jot something down in his notes before resuming his reading. After a few minutes, he put down his pencil and rubbed his eyes again.

Chat's heart tightened. His father looked as if he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks – which Chat realized, might very well be the case.

Gabriel reached for something in the corner of his desk and pulled it close, staring at it for a long time. Chat zoomed in on his father holding a small frame – with a picture of him in it. He almost dropped his baton for the second time that night. His throat dried even as tears pricked his eyes. His hand trembled as he watched his father trace the picture with one long finger, then set it aside. Gabriel picked up his pencil, dragged the book closer, and with one final glance at Adrien's picture, resumed his work.

Chat blinked back tears as he turned and darted away. His heart felt like it was breaking into two. He missed his father. He wished he could leap in through the window right now and tell him that. Gabriel was working himself to death just to get Adrien back. It both cheered and frightened him. It cheered him that his father cared enough about him. And frightened him because he had never seen his father so anxious about anything. Could his father really not win?

It was with mixed feelings that Chat finally slipped back into his room nearly thirty minutes later, releasing his transformation and crawling under the covers. Plagg, mercifully silent for once, snuggled into the crook of Adrien's neck until he surrendered to the sweet allure of sleep.

Author's Note: Thank you all for your support!

Congratulations to Senza Luna and mayuralover for correctly guessing that Mrs. Agreste emerging near Adrien's wing covered in dust and grime was the hint.