Past

Chloe Bourgeois was fearless. She was stunning. She was a star, a fucking queen! When she set her mind on something, there was no force on this earth that could get in her way.

"Come on, Chloe, you can do this."

And currently, she was losing her nerve peering around the corner of the street like she was watching for predators. The object of her rising panic was a middle aged portly man wrapped in baggy clothes, sitting hunched over a coffee that had long since gone cold, nervously staring down at his table.

This man was her father. And he looked old. Why did he look so old?

She tried to turn away, but Adrien and Nino stood tall and firm as 'supportive' (frustration) obstacles in her escape route. She cleared her throat, trying to pretend that she was just looking around, casually pushing her fingers over locks of hair – and not trying to bail on what suddenly felt like the most daunting meeting of her life.

Chloe breathed in.

"Of course I can do this."

Chloe breathed out.

And choked before trying to dive in between the two men and wiggle her way to freedom.

"I can't do this!" She squeaked.

How could she have possibly thought she could do this? It was too late. A year of dodging his calls, pushing him away and looking for any excuse to avoid facing him – this was a lost cause. How could she show her face now? God, she probably looked like a mess. He probably wouldn't even recognise her, or remember her name, or- or- or-

At some point she found herself in Adrien's arms, his arms both an anchor to save her from the storm and a blanket to shield her from the downpour raging inside. He used to hold her like this when they were kids, when she'd ask out of the blue for reasons he couldn't understand at the time. It wasn't like Adrien ever needed a reason, he loved hugs and couldn't get enough of them after his mother started losing herself to her sickness.

Chloe had always felt so weak, so pathetic whenever she received one, so she never directly asked and more urged him into it. But it took until she was wrapped up in another one to realize how much she missed them.

"You are Chloe Bourgeois, Princess of Paris, you snap your fingers and the world bows." He muttered gently to her, gripping her by the shoulders and pushing her to look up into the confidence radiating from his gaze. "You will not be intimidated by a middle-aged, chubby guy in a suit."

Unfortunately, it didn't give her confidence, it didn't bolster her resolve, it just made that warmth more inviting. She wanted to stop and curl up for a few hours and give her mind ample time to latch onto every excuse to abort. And she hated it, this sudden cowardness, especially when she was the one who came up with this idea in the first place. Who better to ask about the Task Force's dealings with the government than the former mayor who may or may not still have contacts?

She brought them here, and she still screwed it up. She was ready to bolt and give up before even attempting the first step. And if that wasn't the story of her li-

"Give her a break, Dude."

Something about Nino's voice just struck a deep, deep part of her brain and made her whimpering instantly dissolve into a scowl. He was putting on that smug little teasing voice he used when he, the king of brainless idiots, felt particularly clever in the moment.

God, he was insufferable. She had one friendly exchange with the man, and the doofus is suddenly comfortable enough with her to talk like this! What Alya saw in the jackass, she'd never understand.

Over Adrien's shoulder, she caught Nino grinning at her from behind another cup of that 'liquid heart attack' slop he had her drink earlier. And her glare only seemed to bolster him as he tipped his hat to her. "If she's too chicken that some old dude has her shivering, we just have to accept it. I'm sure we can get Andre to spill on our own."

Adrien choked out a gasp. "Nino!"

Unfortunately for Adrien, his input was gone from this conversation as a snarling Chloe placed her palm over his chest and promptly shoved him aside. The world dissolved into unimportant blurs as Chloe focused on the one thing that she could never shy away from – an irritation that had to be put in it's place.

The height difference didn't matter as she stood toe-to-toe with Nino, unleashing her arm as if it were a blade to close the distance and ram the sharp curve of her nails into Nino big fat nose. "What's that supposed to mean, Shellhead!?"

Her close proximity, nor the fires of hell burning in her eyes, managed to deter him. "I'm just saying, the old Chloe could order people around in her sleep. She'd have the guy wrapped around her finger in seconds." He said it so offhandedly, casually looking down at her nails with pure amusement. "But I understand if you've lost your touch, Dudette."

Chloe's eyes twitched, her fury boiling over in an instant. "Lost my touch?!" she snarled, her voice loud enough to turn a few heads from passersby.

Nino only smirked, shrugging as he took another exaggerated sip of his terrible drink. "Hey, I get it. People grow, y'know? Maybe intimidating the masses isn't your thing anymore. It's cool. I'm sure Adrien and I can handle this all by ourselves."

Adrien groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nino, do you have to—"

Chloe's eyes twitched, her fury boiling over in an instant. Without hesitation, she reached out and smacked Nino across the cheek with two rigid fingers.

"First of all," she snapped, raising those same fingers straight up, "I know you're playing me."

One finger dropped, leaving the middle one standing tall and proud.

"Second of all: fuck you. I've got more touch than—than—" Her face scrunched up, searching for the right words.

Nino's face lit up, clearly delighted to poke the bear even further. "Stan Bush?"

Chloe's mouth fell open in shock, and she jabbed her finger toward him with enough force to nearly knock his hat off. "I hate that you've made me get that reference!"

She whirled around, fuming, and stormed off in the direction of her father. Behind her, the two boys continued their ridiculous banter.

Adrien sighed dramatically. "…Nino, since when could you manipulate people?"

"Chloe taught me," Nino said with a casual shrug.

Adrien sounded genuinely distressed. "I feel like a parent watching their kid fall in with a bad crowd." He paused. "But I don't know which of you is the kid."

Chloe didn't dignify them with another look, her heels clicking against the pavement as she made her way toward Andre's table. The man sitting there didn't look like the father she remembered; he looked older, wearier, his shoulders hunched and his expression guarded. But there was still that glimmer of recognition when he looked up at her, and—thankfully—he didn't look disgusted.

"Chloe," he said softly.

She faltered, her bravado slipping for just a moment. "Dadd—Dad—Father—…" None of the words tasted right, sticking to her tongue like glue. Finally, she let out a weak, awkward, "Uh… Hey."

Andre studied her, his face unreadable. "It's been a while."

"It has," she agreed stiffly. She felt small under his gaze, her usual confidence deserting her.

"You look well," he said after a moment.

"I—I always look good," she shot back automatically, her tone sharper than intended.

Andre's lips quirked into a faint smile. "No, I mean… You look better."

"Oh." Chloe's voice softened, and for a moment, she wasn't sure what to say. Her eyes drifted over her shoulder, where Adrien was trying—and failing—to keep Nino in line. Nino was practically doubled over with laughter, and Adrien looked moments away from smacking him. She turned back to Andre. "Well, I had some help with that."

Andre nodded, his expression softening. "That's great to hear."

She hesitated, fiddling with the edge of the table before finally blurting out, "Did you… um… Did you hear about Zoé? About her being… replaced with a sentimonster?"

"I did," Andre said, his tone grave. "And I also heard that you stole a vehicle and rammed it into the woman pretending to be her."

Chloe winced. "...So you heard about that, huh?"

"Oh, yes," Andre said, leaning back slightly. "Let me tell you, that was a day full of heart attacks. Though…" He hesitated, the faintest hint of pride sneaking into his voice. "I'll admit, a part of me is impressed with the sheer guts you must have had to do that."

Chloe blinked, taken aback. "You're… impressed?"

Andre chuckled, though there was a wistfulness in his tone. "You've always been brave, Chloe. Reckless, yes, but brave."

Chloe sat across from her father, her hands resting on her lap, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. The compliment left her off balance, unsure of how to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

"So… uh," she started, glancing around awkwardly. "How's… life? Retirement treating you well?"

Andre smiled faintly, swirling his cold coffee. "Retirement's alright. Quiet."

"Quiet's good," Chloe blurted, then winced at how forced it sounded. "I mean, quiet's probably… peaceful?"

Andre tilted his head, watching her with a curious expression. "It's not what I'm used to, I'll admit. But it gives me time to think."

Chloe's fingers stilled. She cleared her throat, her voice lowering. "Thinking's overrated."

Andre huffed a laugh, the sound warmer than she expected. "It can be." He studied her for a moment, his gaze softening. "And you? You seem… different. Happier, maybe?"

Chloe shrugged, suddenly finding her shoes very interesting. "I guess… I've been trying to work on myself, you know? Not that I wasn't already amazing, but…" She trailed off, her bravado wavering under his gentle gaze.

"You've grown," Andre said simply, his voice full of quiet pride.

Chloe blinked, her throat tightening unexpectedly. She hadn't expected this—his kindness, his approval. It felt strange, foreign, like a warm coat she didn't know how to wear. There were no expensive gifts in place of words, no blind submission in place of warmth, there was just her and her father, being genuine with each other for the first time in years.

"I'm trying," she admitted softly, then quickly added, "Don't get used to it, though. I'm still me."

Andre chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd expect nothing less."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The awkwardness was still there, lingering like a third party at the table, but it wasn't as suffocating as before.

And in that moment, Chloe felt like being open. She felt free to be open.

Chloe stared at her father, the words bubbling inside her like a shaken soda can, fizzing, ready to burst. The quiet between them had stretched into something heavier, pressing against her chest. She swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to speak before she lost her nerve.

"You know…" Her voice was hesitant, quieter than she intended. "I hated you growing up."

Andre's hand froze mid-stir of his coffee. His gaze snapped to hers, startled but silent. Chloe pressed on, her words tumbling out before she could stop them.

"I'd watch Mom lay into you every day, putting you down, humiliating you like it was a spectator sport, flirting with every high-class guy she came across, mocking anything you cared about… And you just took it." Her tone sharpened, the bitterness still raw even after all these years. "I hated that, so much. She was so horrible, but you were too much of a doormat to do anything about it. I was a child, and I already knew I could never rely on my dad to protect me."

Andre's face fell, his shoulders slumping slightly. Chloe looked away, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.

"I'd look at you and tell myself that I'd never be like you," she continued, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and regret. "I'd be assertive, I'd be blunt, I'd make sure no one would ever get away with treating me like that." She let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in her own ears. "Guess I wound up doing it too well. I'm a terrible daughter, aren't I?"

Andre leaned back in his chair, his expression pained but calm. "Chloe," he said gently, his voice steady, "you were a child. Maybe you were a handful, maybe you had some unpleasant tendencies, but your flaws only reflect my failure as a father."

Chloe's eyes darted back to him, wide with surprise. "What?"

Andre smiled sadly. "Just look at how much you were able to accomplish when you didn't have to deal with me anymore. You're surrounded by friends, you have direction, and I heard you've been doing some astonishing work under Miss Starling."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Y-You heard about that?"

Andre nodded, a soft chuckle escaping him. "I may not have been able to get in touch with you, but I was allowed to hear the staff talk about you. You have no idea how good it was to hear them gush about my little girl, to see her as sweet as I always saw you."

Chloe's lip quivered, her defences faltering under the unexpected praise. "Sweet? Me?" She tried to scoff, but it came out as a shaky laugh. "What were they smoking?"

"They said you bonded with the other teens," Andre continued, ignoring her deflection. "That you went out of your way to help them when they were struggling. That you listened. You were there for them."

Her throat tightened, the memories of those days flashing through her mind. The kids she met, the moments she reached out without thinking, the way Miss Starling's guidance helped her see the parts of herself she'd buried for so long.

"I just… didn't want them to feel alone," she mumbled, barely audible.

Andre reached across the table, his hand hovering just above hers before she hesitantly let him take it. "You did good, Chloe," he said softly. "And you're still doing good."

The warmth of his hand, the sincerity in his voice—it was too much. Chloe blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. She tightened her grip on his hand, her head dipping as she whispered, "I'm sorry, Dad."

Andre squeezed her hand gently, his voice full of quiet resolve. "I'm sorry too, Chloe. I wish I could go back and be the father you deserved…

Chloe looked up at him, her expression hesitant but hopeful. "You know… Someone once told me that… That there's a lot of things we can't take back. We can't change what's already happened."

An almost shy grin came over her as she started quoting Adrien verbatim. "But you're still here. We're still here. We've done a lot of things wrong, but we still have a chance to repair the damage, to leave behind more than just our mistakes."

Andre's lip wobbled, pulling her hand to his chest, to his heart. "If… If you give me a second chance, I will spend the rest of my life if I have to in order to prove that I'm worthy of it."

"You really mean it?" She sniffled, feeling a stray tear escape. "'Cus- 'Cus I'm gonna hold you to that."

"Absolutely."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Chloe allowed herself to believe him.

"Well…" Chloe cleared her throat, straightening her posture as if steeling herself for the words. "You can start by helping us get Zoe back."

Andre raised a questioning brow. "How can I help?"

Something shifted in Chloe then—a sense of trust, of confidence, freeing her from hesitation. She leaned over the table, her tone serious and resolute. "We don't trust the Miraculous Task Force. In fact, we sorta think that they have something to do with the people who took Zoe."

Andre's expression hardened, his usual genial demeanor giving way to a quiet intensity. There were no questions, no doubts, nothing else needed for him to understand the gravity of her words. Straightening in his seat, he nodded. "And you were wondering if I still had any political sway to get some answers?"

Chloe nodded, her grip on his hand tightening as if anchoring herself to his support.

Without missing a beat, Andre reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone. His fingers flew across the screen as he scrolled through what looked like a backlog of messages spanning months. "I still have contacts in high places," he said, his voice steady, reassuring. "I'll see what I can dig up."

Chloe felt a swell of relief and something else—pride, maybe?—as she watched him work. For the first time in a long time, she saw her father not as the passive man who let life sweep him along but as someone capable of standing tall, of taking action when it mattered.

"Thank you, Dad," she murmured, the words tentative but sincere.

Andre glanced up from his phone, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Anything for my little girls."

Andre hesitated for a moment, his finger hovering over his phone screen. He glanced up at Chloe, his gaze softening with a mix of pride and sadness. "You know, Chloe, I remember the first time I realized Zoe was Vesperia."

Chloe blinked, caught off guard. "You… you knew she was Vesperia?"

Andre nodded, setting his phone down on the table and leaning back in his chair. "One day I caught her coming home when I was visiting early for one of our weekly dinners. She was scratched up, exhausted, but her smile…" He smiled wistfully. "That smile was unmistakable. It wasn't just Zoe coming home that night; it was Vesperia. I don't think I've ever seen her more proud of herself."

Chloe swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the memory of the sister she'd gone out of her way to treat so horribly. "She really wanted to do good," Chloe muttered, almost to herself.

"She did," Andre agreed, his voice warm. "But do you know what she told me, Chloe?"

Chloe looked up, her heart pounding in her chest.

"She said that the bee miraculous was yours."

Her breath caught, and she leaned forward slightly, gripping the table for stability. "Mine?"

Andre nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "She said she always felt like she was borrowing something that didn't belong to her. That no matter how much she tried to live up to its power, it wasn't meant for her—it was meant for you."

Chloe's jaw tightened, emotions warring inside her. Pride, guilt, longing, and frustration swirled into a chaotic storm. "I wasn't worthy of it," she admitted softly. "I… I don't think I'll ever be worthy."

Andre smiled knowingly, and his next words sent a jolt through her. "I think you were always worthy, Chloe."

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto his.

"Your strength, your determination, your passion—it was never about whether you were worthy of the bee miraculous. It was about you believing that you were. And for what it's worth…" He hesitated for a moment, but then his voice softened, and his pride shone through. "I couldn't be prouder of the young woman you've become. Queen Bee or Chloe Bourgeois, you've shown a strength that I never had."

Chloe felt her throat close up, and she had to fight to keep her composure. "Dad…" she started, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again, her tone steadier. "Thank you. That… means a lot."

Andre reached across the table, his hand enveloping hers. "It's not just Zoe who believes in you, Chloe. I do too. Always have."

She nodded, her vision blurring slightly. For the first time in what felt like forever, Chloe Bourgeois allowed herself to feel something she rarely let in: hope.

Next Time: Smoke and Mirrors

Gabriel leaned against the truck, arms crossed as Marinette perched on the hood, kicking her feet idly.

"Speaking of unpleasant surprises," Marinette began, her tone softening but her gaze sharpening, "should I be worried about any more of your exes coming back from the dead?"

Gabriel's eyes flicked to her, narrowing. "I assure you, there are very few people in the world who would be close enough to me on a personal level to matter; and even fewer who still yet live."

"Secret clubs of spooky Illuminati types hoarding magical artifacts sound like a recipe for zombies to me," she pressed, tilting her head.

Gabriel stiffened at that, his expression hardening. "The only one in our 'club' who held such knowledge was Salvadore, and that knowledge failed him in the end."

The name dripped from his lips with such venomous disdain that Marinette felt her spine stiffen. Gabriel excelled in communicating distain, but that one word, that name - Salvadore - it was honestly unnerving how much hatred and fear Gabriel managed to fit into his voice to simply speak that name. It was akin to someone calling upon a curse, speaking the name of a demon that would manifest to take your soul.

"I think it's time you told me more about these guys," she said, leaning forward.

"Why?"

"Because Meltdown already told us it was relevant." Marinette cupped her hands over her mouth, mimicking Meltdown's nasally voice. "'Cus an old pal of yours is setting up the mother of all reunions, and I'm gonna make sure you look your best!'"

Gabriel's brows furrowed. "You heard that?"

"It took me a minute to get the courage to throw that plate," she admitted. "But don't change the subject! Meltdown was implying there's someone else you know gunning for you."

Gabriel hesitated, his gaze darkening. "…It could be Nathalie."

Marinette shot him a skeptical look.

"Alright, fine, I'll regale you with some history." he relented with a huff. "But trust me, it's meaningless."

Marinette smirked. "Start squawking, Hawky."