Nathalie wasn't used to having company while she worked. She preferred solitude, where she could focus solely on her tasks, undisturbed by distractions. But today was different. When the group split up for cleaning duty—because letting outsiders into the mansion had become far too risky—Tikki had approached Nathalie with a soft request. The tiny kwami, with her wide, hopeful eyes, had shyly asked if she could help with the chores.

Nathalie couldn't say no, not to Tikki. There was a quiet kindredness between them, a shared understanding of duty and keeping busy. Tikki wasn't just a companion to Ladybug—she was a being who thrived on being needed, on having purpose.

Adrien was Chat Noir through and through, while he would take the ladybug miraculous when he needed to, it wasn't the same as Tikki having a holder, as being a part of the battle. And Nathalie suspected that part of Tikki's request was out of concern for the recent bed bound Nathalie's safety. Without a holder, Tikki had become just as restless as Nathalie, searching for ways to feel useful, to contribute.

They started in the trophy room. Nathalie thought it might be more interesting for Tikki, surrounded by the history of great heroes and their victories. She hadn't expected the kwami to speak about her memories of these ancient relics, but as they dusted and organized, Tikki occasionally drifted into reminiscing. Nathalie found herself listening more than working, intrigued by the centuries of experience the little kwami had to offer.

"So, Odysseus was real?" Nathalie asked curiously as she wiped the dust off an ancient helmet that resembled something from a Greek myth.

Tikki buzzed around the trophy room, carefully cleaning the top shelves with ease. She gave a nostalgic smile. "He was an interesting holder," Tikki said. "He was the one who came up with the lucky charm in the first place."

Nathalie blinked in surprise. "How much of the Odyssey was fact, then?"

Tikki paused, thinking for a moment before answering with a wistful tone. "It feels like forever ago, but I definitely remember fighting a cyclops."

Nathalie couldn't hide her curiosity. "A cyclops? That's… well, a little terrifying."

Tikki giggled. "He was the creative one. Marinette reminded me a lot of him. They were both the most cunning and inventive holders I'd ever had. Even after the lucky charm was made, most holders still couldn't understand what I was trying to tell them. But Marinette… She was quick. Nobody did it as fast as her."

Nathalie's expression softened, reflecting on the young woman who had been through so much. "She's always been special."

Tikki nodded fondly, continuing her work. "She really was. You know, it's funny—I used to take care of Marinette's schedule, too. She never asked me to, but between all the akumas and the stress, I thought it would lighten her load. Helped her study, reminded her to eat, and… kept track of her Adrien Agreste hope chest."

A small smile tugged at Nathalie's lips. "That sounds very familiar."

Tikki paused for a moment, looking at Nathalie thoughtfully. "I guess you could say I was her personal assistant, like you."

"It sounds like you did a great job," Nathalie said, and she meant it.

Tikki fluttered closer, her small smile fading a little. "Tikki, is everything okay?" Nathalie asked, sensing a shift in the kwami's mood.

"When are you going to tell Adrien?" Tikki asked, her voice soft but firm. "About everything."

Nathalie's stomach tightened. She had known this question was coming, but it still felt like a weight pressing down on her. She sighed, running a cloth over an old photograph frame before answering. "Trust me, I've been trying to find the right time."

"The longer you wait, the worse it'll hurt," Tikki said gently. "He deserves to know the truth. He's been lied to enough."

Nathalie closed her eyes for a brief moment, the truth of Tikki's words striking deep. "I know, it's just…" She trailed off, the words stuck in her throat. "Everything's been so hectic lately."

Tikki's gaze remained unwavering. "He deserves to know the truth," she repeated. "He's strong, but it's the lies that have always hurt him the most."

Nathalie nodded, her resolve wavering under the weight of her guilt. "You're right," she whispered, almost to herself. "I promise, when we're out of the honeymoon phase, when the team has settled… I'll tell him everything."

Tikki smiled gently, hovering close enough to nuzzle Nathalie's cheek.

"I believe in what we're building here," Nathalie added, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just hope the truth doesn't destroy it."

"It won't," Tikki assured her. "Not if you tell him. He's stronger than you think. And so are you."

Nathalie didn't respond immediately. She just kept working, her thoughts swirling with the unspoken promises and the heavy truth that awaited her in the future.

However, her thoughts were interrupted. A loud banging, like someone smashing a jack hammer against the door, echoed from the entrance.

Nathalie and Tikki shared an uneasy look. "We're not expecting any company today." She muttered.

The two cautiously took to the steps, Tikki hiding away in Nathalie's front pocket as they went. No other knocks came, the visitor confident that he was loud enough to only need one. Which, for reasons Nathalie could quite explain, made her only feel more uneasy.

Soon, she arrived at the front door, pulling up the mansion's entrance camera feed on her tablet. She was not ready to see half the screen taken up by Chalot's coat and the other half taken up by his head.

Without her even announcing her presence, Chalot turned to the camera and gave a mock salute. "Well, howdy there."

Nathalie's heart pounded as she stared at the screen, Chalot's familiar figure looming large in the camera feed. There was no good reason why this man would ever be here, she was sure of that.

She drew a breath, steeling herself. "M-Mr. Moth? To what do I owe the pleasure?" she said, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her. "I'm afraid Mr. Agreste is not currently at home."

Chalot's unnatural grin widened. "Not to worry," he said smoothly, adjusting his collar. "I'm here for you, Nathalie."

Nathalie's grip tightened around the tablet, her knuckles turning white. "And what have I done to invite such attention?" she asked, her voice cold, though her mind raced.

"Nothing," Chalot responded with a dismissive wave. "Just thought it was about time for us to talk, without having to look over our shoulders."

Nathalie's jaw clenched. "A tantalizing prospect, I assure you," she said smoothly, "but I must insist that you remove yourself from the premises. The Agreste Household is not receiving visitors at this time."

Chalot's expression shifted subtly, a glimmer of something darker in his eyes. "Does Adrien know?" he asked, the question hanging in the air like a threat.

Her heart skipped a beat. "Sir, I warn you—" she began, her voice sharp.

But Chalot cut her off with a smile that was far too smug for Nathalie's liking. "About what you and his daddy got up to, Mayura?" The name fell from his lips like a dagger, striking straight at her core.

She froze. It shouldn't surprise her that he was informed about her, that he was in on anything Tomoe knew, but just hearing that name after so long, it was re-opening an old wound. As if she herself had forgotten all about Mayura until this moment.

Her mind reeled, but she forced herself to remain calm, swallowing the sudden tightness in her throat. "I suppose it would be rude of me to turn you away now," she said, keeping her voice even. "This way."

She pressed a button on the tablet, and the front door unlocked with a soft click. Chalot's grin widened as he stepped through the gate, his slow, deliberate steps echoing ominously as he moved through the house.

"The mansion's lookin' better." He whistled, running his fingers through some nearby curtains, leaning his head back to look up to the chandeliers. "Reckon with Gabbi outta the picture, colour and warmth found their way back in."

She glared at his back, hating how he talked with such familiarity with the house, how he talked – so self-satisfied that he knew anything about them. Most of all, she hated that he was right. Somewhere deep in her heart, she recognised the man, knew there was something there that her mind just refused to let resurface. What was it about him that she didn't want to face, that she didn't want to remember?

"Who are you?" She avoiding spitting the word out as they entered the sitting room, instead choosing to glower at him behind a towel she was holding up to clean her hands.

He stopped in front of the fireplace, staring into it. "Tch, you really don't recognise me, do you?"

The fire wasn't lit, yet somehow, in that moment, the logs seemed to bare some incredibly bright scars that rose in response to Chalot's words.

"That… That'd honestly hurt if I didn't feel so numb."

She couldn't pin the emotion behind that sentence, Chalot said it with such apathy, as if he himself couldn't decide just how much Nathalie's lack of recognition bothered him.

Still, that didn't stop her from adopting a stiff posture and a cold, uncaring mask. "I don't particularly care about your feelings."

"Right." He laughed, but nothing about it was good natured. "'Course, if it ain't Gabriel, it doesn't matter to you."

Nathalie scoffed, "You have little room to judge anyone considering your allies."

"They were your allies not too long ago." His gaze found the family portrait hanging over the fireplace, eyes falling upon one specific Agreste. "Which I'm betting the kid doesn't know about."

"If you're just here to repeat Tsugi's threats," Nathalie began coldly, "then I'm afraid you wasted your time coming here in person instead of mailing them."

Chalot chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I'm not here to threaten anyone, Nathalie. I'm here to make an appeal to your heart." His tone softened, though his smirk remained. "At least, I assume some of your love for Gabriel transferred to his boy."

Nathalie's eyes narrowed, and her chest tightened with indignation. "How dare you," she hissed. "I love that boy as if—"

"As if he were yours?" Chalot whipped around, his voice sharp and cutting. "Don't make this pathetic, Nathalie."

The words hit her like a slap. And she could do nothing but back away as the giant of a man advanced upon her, the rage and disgust in his eyes the only emotion he was able to convey naturally. "You're not his mother. You'll never be his mother. You don't deserve to be his mother."

Nathalie felt her breath catch in her throat, felt her back hit the wall, but she steeled herself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. Covertly, she raised her hand to her breast pocket, squeezing to silently remind a fuming Tikki not to reveal herself. "I may have made some mistakes—"

"Mistakes?!" Chalot's voice grew louder, ripping out a bitter laugh. "Lady, you were playing side piece to a supervillain."

Nathalie's lips wobbled, her breath hitched, her words left spluttering. "Those were Gabriel's crimes. His madness."

"And you stuck by him every step of the way," Chalot shot back, his hand resting by his side, vigorously shaking. "You kept his secret. You fought his battles. As Nathalie, Mayura, Safari, Catalyst; You're just as culpable as he is."

"I—"

"Not because you were forced," Chalot continued, cutting her off again waving one finger in front of her face, pretending this was casual despite how much emotion his shaking gave way to. "Not because you were manipulated or tricked. You did it all willingly because you wanted him to look at you the same way he looked at Emilie."

The words pierced through Nathalie like daggers. With each one, Chalot's form seemed to grow larger and larger until it eclipsed all light in the room, leaving her with only his dark, judging features.

Chalot's voice softened, but the venom remained. "You and Gabriel are the same in that way. So desperate for affection, you'd damn the rest of the world for the first pair of pretty eyes that made you feel something."

Nathalie felt her legs wobble but stood firm, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "I followed Gabriel for a time, and I'm not proud of it, but I eventually saw the error of my ways. I tried to stop him."

Chalot laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and cruel. "Yeah, you eventually grew a conscience. The same time you realized your life was on the line and that Gabriel would rather chase teenagers than return your affection." He shook his head, sneering. "How convenient for you."

Nathalie's anger flared. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded, her voice shaking with barely contained fury. She had to keep it under wraps, keep it controlled – anger would earn her nothing but humiliation here. She wouldn't let Tomoe's lapdog have power over her.

"Because I got nothing left." Chalot's tone shifted, the bitterness fading to something rawer, more vulnerable. "We got nothing left. Not even a choice. Just the hate we have for ourselves and the people we let drag us into this." He finished in a dark, hissing whisper saved for the most unforgivable curses. "For Gabriel."

In the darkness of his shadow, Nathalie was alone in a void, lost to a distant memory that cut her with ice. She heard a phone ring years ago, bringing with it a last, desperate message from a man on his death bed, begging for anybody to give him a miracle, or at least give him comfort in his final moments. She remembered deleting that call for Gabriel.

The eyes that stared down into her own, they were how she imagined death. An empty pool. No future, no pain, no conclusion, just trapped in a shallow end.

And still, her mind rejected the memory, rejected the connection and buried it deep once more.

Nathalie's lip curled in disgust. "I don't know who you are, but I am not you. I still have… friends. Family. Purpose."

Chalot's eyes darkened, and he tilted his head. "And how many of those come with conditions?"

Nathalie's voice hardened, her chest heaving. "Adrien knows how much I love him. How much I'd do for him. And I know how much he loves me, even if I don't deserve it."

Chalot took a slow step forward, his gaze boring into her. "Then you'll tell him the truth, right?" he challenged. "We'll tell him together, make a tea party out of it. You can expose me right here and now. I'm sure he'll understand."

Nathalie's mouth went dry. "I can't do that." She practically whimpered.

Chalot's smirk returned, colder this time. "When he knows what you've done, what you are, what you let happen…" He reached for her chin, grasping it hard enough to stop her from looking anywhere else. "Will he still love you?"

His words echoed in the silence, each one landing like a blow.

"People like us, Nathalie," Chalot continued, his voice low and filled with resignation. It was thoughts that had been racing through his mind for years, but it seemed to be the first time he brought them to words. "We don't just make mistakes. We don't just have lapses in judgment. We hurt people. We leave scars. We… We do things that we can't come back from."

Nathalie clenched her fists, her mind spinning. "Is this a vendetta, then?" she spat. "You can't get Gabriel, so you go after his son?"

Chalot's smirk wavered slightly, but he shook his head. "I don't believe in that 'Sins of the Father' crap. Despite all odds, Adrien is a good kid. He and Felix deserve more than this crapshoot of a family."

He paused, his voice softening again. "So, I'm asking you, while you still have a chance—protect him. Take him and go. Settle down on some pristine beach in the Bahamas or whatever, just get him out of here. Get him somewhere safe."

Nathalie's eyes flashed with suspicion. "Safe from you and Chrysalis?"

"A storm is coming to Paris," Chalot warned, not even trying to deny it. "Escape it or weather it – you can't stop it. But, you can get Adrien out of the way."

Nathalie's voice grew colder, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "Have a good day, Mr. Moth."

Chalot's eyes lingered on her for a moment before he gave a slow, mocking bow. "As you wish."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Nathalie found herself dropping into the nearest chair, slumped over. She felt Tikki stir in her pocket. "Are you okay, Miss Nathalie?"

Nathalie's fingers trembled as she placed the towel down, her mind still reeling. "Tikki, do you remember Scarlet Moth?"

The kwami flew out of her pocket, hovering near her with a concerned expression. "How could I forget? Heroes' Day was a nightmare."

Nathalie's gaze turned distant, her mind swirling with thoughts she didn't want to face. "Do you know how Hawkmoth became Scarlet Moth?"

Tikki tilted her head. "He made an akuma that could boost his powers, I'd assume."

"Yes," Nathalie replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "But did you know who that akuma was? Their appearance? Their name?"

Tikki blinked, her tiny face scrunching up in thought. "Well… no."

"Exactly." Nathalie's voice grew sharper, more urgent. "Catalyst never made a public appearance. She was never mentioned to Tomoe."

Tikki's eyes widened. "Then how…"

Nathalie's breath hitched as she spoke the final words. "How can a man I've never met know the name of an akuma that only appeared before Gabriel and Nooroo?"

Gabriel remembered the day Adrien was born. It was the end of a dreary week, a harrowing storm had consumed Paris, and Gabriel had gotten the call that Emilie was going into labour a month early while he was on the other end of the city. Sitting in his car, demanding his driver to break every road law known to man as they tore through rain and thunder, it seemed that everything was going against him.

The rain lashed against the windows, thunder rumbling in the distance as the car tore through the flooded streets. Gabriel had never felt so powerless, so out of control. He wasn't prepared to be a father.

Not that he didn't want kids, he just knew that with his upbringing, with his issues, with his experience; he feared what sort of influence he'd be on a child. He could still hear his father's voice echoing in his head, spouting some old-fashioned belief about how infertility was the universe's way of telling you that you weren't meant to be a parent. Gabriel had tried to shake off the notion, but it lingered, festering in his thoughts. At the very least, he'd probably have waited a few more years, when he and Emilie were in a better place, to start planning for kids.

Emilie had been so desperate to start a family as soon as possible. The idea of being a mother made her glow so bright Gabriel couldn't help but feel ashamed for even thinking of letting his caution dim her shine. And yet, he still ended up doing so when he realized that he couldn't give her a child, and she couldn't bare one.

It sounded so silly to blame himself for their shared condition, but as he thought on the two magical artifacts that shaped his life, two miraculous items that moulded the world to the power of emotion, it was all too real a possibility that his own emotions, his crippling doubt, could corrupt those around him. And he could never escape the memory of the look in her eyes, the betrayal, when he told her of his own condition.

But on that stormy day, as Gabriel raced to the hospital, none of that mattered. All that mattered was Emilie and the fragile new life she carried inside her.

He barely waited for the car to stop before jumping out, rushing through the rain and into the sterile, cold corridors of the hospital. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and Gabriel's steps echoed as he ran, his mind blank except for the desperate need to reach Emilie.

By the time he reached her, he found her in the delivery room, her face pale but her eyes alight with determination. Emilie had always been strong, stronger than anyone Gabriel had ever known bar his own mother.

Nathalie had stood at her side in his stead and, when he caught himself huffing and puffing by the door frame, she was the one holding the tiny bundle that would change his life forever. Gabriel remembered choosing between life and death, choosing to leave home, choosing the propose to Emile – and yet, he felt that accepting Nathalie's offer to hold the boy was the toughest choice he ever made.

He was terrified. Of dropping Adrien on the floor, of holding him the wrong way, of making him cry upon seeing his face, of squeezing too hard. Gabriel had never been so scared of something so small and helpless. He was scared so stiff that Nathalie, over the tired giggling of Emilie, had to gently shove the boy into his arms.

And then, it happened.

In that moment, that perfect little moment, the storm seemed to break outside, as if the universe itself had paused to witness the arrival of this tiny, perfect child. Gabriel had stared down at his son, his heart swelling with a mix of fear, love, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Adrien was small, fragile, and yet the heaviest thing in the room. Gabriel realized something he hadn't anticipated. All his fears, all his doubts, all the nightmares; they didn't matter. He loved this child, this boy who he'd never truly met until today, with a fierceness he hadn't thought possible.

Adrien was a miracle, a gift he never knew he needed.

Gabriel was an ugly man, not in looks, but in heart. His soul had long since been tainted by his time with Colt, working for Salvadore, and he had done many things he knew to be the work of a callous and cold creature. And yet Adrien couldn't see any of that, all he could see was his father. Gabriel was a father.

The moment he held the boy in his arms and that boy looked at him like he was his whole world, that boy reached out to him and tapped him on the chest. That was when he knew there was no going back, that this boy would be everything to him, that this family was the one thing that made his thankless work and the insufferable people worth it.

This boy would be loved.

This boy would be taken care of.

This boy would never know harm even if Gabriel had to build a wall around him that blocked out the sky.

He would give this boy the world.

He'd made Stoneheart slam his boy into the pavement. He'd made Stormy Weather sick a tornado on his boy. He'd put his boy through hell, through beatings and insults and despair.

Adrien was Chat Noir. His son was one of his greatest enemies. At any time in any of his many, many plans, his Akuma could have broken Chat Noir and that would be the last he'd see of his son.

Every scheme, every desperate move, every time he swore that he was fighting for his family he was on the verge of destroying what was left of it.

He could only repeat this in his head as he sat in the bowels of the base's medical bay, propped up on a tiny stool with bandages around his head and the bitter taste of fresh, pungent medicine on his lips.

The door was locked. Whilst their saviours had been quick to stop their execution, that didn't mean Damocles could let them wonder free. He was keeping them locked down, away from any more scared civilians looking for an opportunity to bump off the two, until the rest of the community leaders had returned to discuss the situation.

"You know, when you think about it, it makes so much sense." Marinette had positioned herself as far away from him as she could, lying back on an old gurney. "Adrien is Chat Noir. Of course he's Chat Noir."

She shifted onto her side, looking away from Gabriel. He didn't think she was even talking to him, just airing her thoughts out loud. "When he's not forcing the mask on, he makes all those crummy jokes that are only funny because he tells them, he's just as kind and compassionate at Chat- Oh, and he always smelled of awful cheese!"

"I've been falling in love with and rejecting the same guy for years." She was caught between a gasp and a chuckle. "God, everything would have been so much easier if we'd told each other."

There was a thoughtful hum, even as she rubbed the sore spot where the rope burns from her recent hanging attempt still marked her. "I was always so scared of what I'd find behind the mask, that it would change everything we built together. But now that I know? It's like… It's so much better. It all clicks. I don't have the feel guilty about having feelings for Chat, because it was just more of him, all the things that only make me love Adrien so much more."

Gabriel didn't say anything, yet Marinette suddenly turned herself on a sharp pivot to glare at him like he had interrupted her. "He was your son."

Again, no words, not even a look, Gabriel just listened. "He was your son…" Marinette's dreamy look faded into a tear-laced fury. "And you beat him. You tortured him. You scarred him. You betrayed him."

She sat up, glaring down into her hands. "Oh god, how many times did I hold Adrien in my arms as he fell apart, hit by his own cataclysm, or shattered by your akuma? Even as Chat Noir, even when he's supposed to be free from you, you still found a way to hurt him."

"You… You…" Her eyes grew wide at a sudden realization before she threw herself from the gurney, violently and hopelessly shaking her hand at him. "You akumatized your own son."

Gabriel had never akumatized Adrien, nor Chat Noir. He'd never considered akumatizing Adrien. He'd never do it. He loved his son, he'd never put him through that. He knew that, didn't he?

And yet, the moment the accusation left her lips, Gabriel had to squint and ask himself 'did I?'.

Gabriel's mind went blank as the accusation hit him. Did I? The thought swirled in his head, a whirlpool of confusion and doubt. He'd never intentionally targeted Adrien, had he? He'd always been careful, meticulous even, to avoid akumatizing his own son. But… the sheer number of akumas, the chaos of it all… Could one have slipped through the cracks?

No, he would've known, wouldn't he?

Marinette stood trembling before him, her accusation hanging in the air like a storm cloud. "You did!" she hissed, her voice cracking with fury.

Gabriel stayed silent, unsure of what to say. His chest tightened with the weight of her words. The room felt small, suffocating. Every breath felt harder to take, as if the air itself was thick with judgment.

Marinette's voice grew louder, her anger bubbling over. "It wouldn't make a difference if you knew, I've seen it. You'd let him fight for you. You'd take any sliver of happiness from that boy and use it to control him. How could you? How could you do that to your own son?"

Marinette's breath hitched as she wiped away the angry tears that had started to form. "He loved you, Gabriel. He adored you so damn much. And you—" Her voice cracked again. "You shattered that trust. You took his love, his loyalty, and twisted it into something wrong."

Gabriel's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. I didn't know. That's what he wanted to say. I didn't know it was him. But the words felt hollow, meaningless. What difference did it make now?

The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. Marinette's breathing was ragged, and Gabriel could feel the weight of her disappointment, her rage.

"And I let you do it." Marinette said, her voice quieter now but no less intense. "Why did I help you hurt him? Hurt everybody?"

Her fist came down on his chest, she didn't have the power to hurt him physically, only mentally. "I hate you."

Again. Another blow. Gabriel didn't move, didn't blink. "I hate you."

He just watched. "I hate you."

Watched until her knuckles turned white. "I hate you."

Watched until her eyes flushed red with tears. "I hate you."

Watched until she couldn't hit him anymore. "I hate you."

She went limp, fingers desperately clinging to his shirt, pulling it forward so she could cradle herself against it and cry into his chest. He was the last person in the world that she'd ever let see her like this, and yet he was also the only person left she could let see her like this.

He was the villain, the bastard, the one who caused everything. He wasn't like everybody else, he wasn't one of the people she'd failed, one of the people she betrayed. He was the only target she could justify crying in front of, because he was the only one worse than her, more deserving of scorn than her.

He was the only one who could be her outlet, and for reasons he couldn't quite understand, he accepted that role.

Gabriel swallowed hard, the bitter taste of regret thick in his throat. He didn't have an excuse, didn't have a justification. He had spent years in the pursuit of a goal that, in the end, had cost him everything.

Marinette's sobs grew quieter, her body trembling against Gabriel's chest. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her broken breaths and the low hum of the medical equipment around them. Gabriel, still as a statue, let her hold onto him, unsure of what to do or say. He'd never been good at comforting anyone—he'd always been the one in need of reassurance, of control.

As she calmed, Gabriel found his gaze drifting to the cold, sterile room around them. This place, like so many others in his life, felt like a prison. A cage built not of bars, but of choices. Choices he had made, over and over again, thinking they would save his family. But now, the only thing that felt familiar to him was this: being hated. Deservedly so.

"I wish I could undo it all," Marinette whispered, her voice barely audible against his chest. "I wish none of this had ever happened."

Gabriel's heart clenched at her words. They stung more than he wanted to admit, not because they were unfair, but because they were true. Every step he had taken, every decision he had made, had led them to this moment. And yet, despite everything, here she was, still clinging to him in her grief.

Marinette pulled away from him slightly, just enough to look up into his face. Her eyes were swollen from crying, red and puffy, but the fire in them hadn't dimmed. "I never wanted this," She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"But it's what we got," He broke his silence in a gentle whisper. "And now we have to live with it."

Marinette stared at Gabriel, her hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt, knuckles white. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as she tried to compose herself. There was a quiet desperation in her expression, as though she was searching for something in Gabriel's face—some reason, some explanation that would make all the pain go away.

But the only comfort came in knowing it was a pain they shared.

"How's your neck?" Gabriel asked quietly.

Marinette stepped back from him, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to protect herself from the weight of everything. "Socqueline says it'll heal easy. We weren't hanging long enough to leave any lasting damage."

Marinette's words hung in the air like the remnants of the storm Gabriel had once driven through on the day Adrien was born. He couldn't help but scoff, his instinctual cynicism rising to the surface.

"Do you think we're safe here?" he asked, his voice low, dripping with skepticism.

"Damocles promised us we would be," Marinette responded, but her words carried a softness, as though she, too, was trying to convince herself.

Gabriel shifted on the stool, uncomfortable. "Only until the other judges return to decide our fate."

Marinette sighed. "We'll make them see the truth."

"What truth?" Gabriel shot back. "We don't even know the truth."

Marinette folded her arms, her gaze unwavering. "Then you're just gonna have to have faith."

"In who?" Gabriel's voice was sharp, like a blade. "The bloodthirsty mob out there? Damocles isn't going to be able to hold them back for long."

"They're just desperate," Marinette countered, her tone still calm, but with a hint of frustration. "They've been through so much, they're scared."

"They're more than that," Gabriel said darkly, shaking his head. "You didn't see the way they looked at us. It wasn't just fear, it was hate."

"I'm getting tired of the pessimism, Hawky," Marinette snapped, her patience thinning. "This constant negativity… it's exhausting."

"It's not pessimism. It's…" Gabriel trailed off, his brow furrowing. He clenched his jaw, as though struggling to articulate something. "I can feel them."

"Huh?" Marinette blinked, her expression softening with confusion.

Gabriel rubbed his temple, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were trying to piece the sensation together. "I… I swear, I can feel them. Their hearts, screaming around me." He hesitated, looking at Marinette as though searching for the right words. "The sounds are muffled, the connection is dull, but—it's there."

Marinette stared at him, her brow furrowing in concern. "You mean—"

"Like when I had the butterfly," Gabriel interrupted. "When we were fighting Senti-Sentry, I could feel its fear, its desire to protect itself so clearly."

"That's impossible," Marinette whispered, shaking her head.

"I thought it was just a delusion, but everyone we've passed, I can feel it prickling at my mind," Gabriel continued, his voice growing more frantic. "Everyone… Except you."

Marinette frowned. "It has to be you projecting." Then, her face tightened in realization. "Unless…"

"Unless I'm a sentimonster," Gabriel finished for her, his voice cold, distant as he repeated Juleka's conversation with Marinette.

"You heard that, huh?" Marinette asked softly, guilt threading through her words.

"I don't know what I am, Bug," Gabriel admitted, his eyes dark, haunted. "My blood is… Human."

"So is Adrien's," Marinette pointed out.

"Would I even know if I was?" Gabriel's voice wavered, betraying a vulnerability Marinette had rarely heard. "A sentimonster could be commanded to wipe their own memory, to ignore or explain every inconsistency. I could spend this entire time thinking I'm a man, a human with memories—good and bad—only to find out I'm a cheap imitation manufactured long ago and lied to."

Marinette stared at him, her expression softening. "I guess now we know how Adrien probably felt."

Gabriel sighed deeply. "A fair point."

Marinette stepped closer, her voice quiet but resolute. "Look, I'll tell you what I told Juleka. You're no pretender. Because there's no magic in the world that can replicate the utter disaster that is Gabriel Agreste."

Gabriel let out a short, bitter laugh. "You're not wrong there."

The brief moment of levity faded quickly, and Gabriel turned serious again. "What do we tell the community leaders, then?"

"We tell them what we know," Marinette said confidently. "I was kidnapped and put to sleep. You were revived. Roth is holding the only lead we have on ending all this in a prison around here."

"And you think they'll believe us?" Gabriel asked, his voice dripping with doubt.

Marinette shrugged. "I think they won't have anything else to do."

"You're too trusting, Bug."

"Yeah, I am," Marinette replied simply, boldly reaching forward and tapping him on the nose. "That's why you're here."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Marinette slid back into her make-shift bed with a grunt. "I trusted the wrong person twice, and both times it ended in the worst days of my life. But… despite it all, I still trust in people. I still want to see the good in them."

"And?" Gabriel pressed, his eyes narrowing.

"And you never trust anyone," Marinette shot back. "You push them away until they don't matter. When danger comes along, you're alone and defenceless. It left you without your son or your 'just an assistant' while you were on your deathbed. Yet you're still not going to trust anybody. You only want to see the worst in people."

Gabriel frowned, crossing his arms defensively. "Is all of this just to gloat?"

Marinette shook her head. "On our own, we're just two extremes, desperate for failure. But together, we cover our bases. You watch our back, while I open the way forward."

Gabriel stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. There was a twisted sort of logic to it, a sickening balance of how hero and villain fed into one another.

"It's like you said: This is what we got, and we have to live with it any way we can. Even if it's with each other."

Next Time - Wolf In Sheep's Clothing:

Adrien never thought there'd be a day where the Dupain-Cheng Bakery scared him. He hadn't dared step foot in the building since the funeral, a couple of months since he saw the people he once considered his sanctuary from the tidal wave of unsaid chaos that was his home.

He'd spent the last ten minutes going over excuses he could use to turn back and leave, looking for every last way he could save this meeting for a tomorrow that would never come. But Kagami's words still stuck with him, a little worm inside his ears that would never let him forget them. Yes, she said that he could move forward at his own pace, but she also said that moving at all was more healthy than stay in place, letting what has past, what he can't change, consume him.

So, he needed to face Marinette's parents. He needed to face the only things that remained of the woman he loved. He needed to look them in the eye and see if he could still stand, and wanting to get Nathalie and the rest of the gang some treats was the perfect excuse to do so.

A make-shift shrine had been erected in front of the bakery, pictures of Marinette surrounded by flowers, offerings and newspaper articles of the people Ladybug saved. It was hard to look at without his heart clenching up, Adrien could only manage a few glances, spotting some familiar names written on the top of notes before tearing his eyes away.

Adrien took a deep breath, steadying himself as he reached for the door handle of the bakery. The familiar scent of fresh bread and pastries wafted through the cracks, tugging at his memories. He could almost hear Marinette's laugh echoing through the shop, see her parents bustling around behind the counter, always so warm and welcoming.

He hesitated, his hand hovering just above the handle, his heart pounding in his chest. What if they figured it out? What if they saw right through him? What if they hated him? What if they never wanted to see him again? What if they couldn't forgive him?

He swallowed hard, forcing those thoughts down. He had to do this. For Marinette. For himself.

The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open, the sound sharp and intrusive in the otherwise quiet shop. It was late afternoon, just after the lunch rush, so the bakery was relatively empty. A few regulars sat by the window, sipping on coffee and chatting softly.

He expected to see Tom hunched over the counter, his immense form gently cradling a tiny set of treats. But to his relief, Tom wasn't there for the moment. But then, to his confusion, someone else was.

"Yo, Adrien!" Kim practically dived over the countertop and scared the living daylights out of multiple customers as he bounded across the bakery and pounced, crushing Adrien into a bear hug. "How are you doing, Bro? You've lost weight!"