Chapter Text
As a radiant sun sets upon the city’s horizon, a mild breeze flows through the colourful streets of Paris, and a freshly cut scent of flowers follows. Sales– for not only chocolate, but for Gabriel, the brand soars higher than any other week of the year. A month dedicated to revitalisation, renewal and sacrifices – Parisians take the time to appreciate the new life granted by Gabriel years prior. With dedicated artworks, murals and tributes to the man. Without him, the city would still be under the terrorism of Hawkmoth. It’s all thanks to him; the city no longer lives in fear of the akumas. The city is free to feel once more.
But that’s only a lie. An illusion that Ladybug had set, all to protect Adrien.
There have been many omissions when it comes to the truth, such as the source of Hawkmoth’s power: the brooch. Missing. While it has posed a major issue for the heroes, the mystery of the missing brooch has been nagging her for years. She searched through the remnants of Gabriel’s possessions more than thrice. It’s not in the bunker, not where sweet Émilie was laid to rest. Not in his safe, not anywhere. Nathalie swears – it’s under her fucking nose. Considering that there have been no akumatisations for years. Hell, if it's somewhere like under the bedsheets. She might have an aneurysm.
The brooch must be found, lest they have another Hawkmoth on their hands. But for now, her priorities remain with Adrien.
Nathalie waits in the foyer for the boy; earlier, he’d informed her that he’d be later than usual.
Good, he needs to spend more time outside
. It was her first thought, so Nathalie permitted him to, as Adrien was sweet, kind, well-behaved and predictable. Good.
He is Good
. Although as naive as Adrien was… Nathalie couldn’t say the same for his girlfriend. She was … determined, nosy and a storyteller. For lack of better words. The woman had her reservations about the two, and she held her worries. About Adrien. She knew how susceptible Adrien was to lies, and how rejection leads him to explosive outbursts before he dwindles into a depressive state.. When it comes to love, anyway.
She watched him grow from infant to young man. She knew Adrien, watched him for his whole life. Most days, she worries about how much she can see Émilie and Gabriel within him. Reflections on both, and how over the years the two began to sour, then rot. They grew obsessed with magic. The ways their relationship with their son became a casualty. On good days, she wonders if Adrien is just as obsessive as his Father. But if the years have taught Nathalie something, it’s that pattern distinction is real and she’s become a real expert in it.
Speak of the devil. The foyer doors gently swing open.
“I’m home, Nathalie.”
Adrien announces. Which earns a gentle, yet small smile from the woman as she watches the teen enter, or at least half of his body. Over the years, she’s watched Adrien’s wardrobe develop from one curated from his Father’s creations, to ones that he can comfortably call ‘his’. Still, he seems to enjoy the blue jeans and the public health hazards that he calls orange sneakers – the whites are a stained brown, torn to near-shreds (
she quickly reminds herself to ask if he’d like them to be replaced
). The black logo had been scratched off; if they ever were washed, they’d most likely disintegrate. But gone are the days of that white button-up over his black shirt, now in: a black turtleneck sweater! Perfect for the weather, not to hot. Not too cold.
What draws attention to Adrien’s outfit is the gorgeous silver locket he wears. It looks familiar, and even with all the questions she asks about its origin, he answers that ‘his mother gave it to him’. Nathalie feels herself growing jealous of the child. Why didn’t Émilie gift her something before her passing? Adrien lost his parents, yes, but she lost her friend–
and something possibly more
. Yet, her heart feels torn. Nathalie wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her day-to-day life with such a morbid memento around her neck. She wonders how Adrien manages to live with the haunting pieces surrounding him.
Despite the wide spaces, Nathalie feels suffocated. Each room and item held memories of mourning. History of his parents – her friends who once were. She wonders if she misses the people who they used to be, or the state they left the Earth in.
Her index and middle fingers push her glasses back when she realises her pregnant silence. She swallows the lump in her throat. Tearing her eyes away from the sore reminder of what was lost, and instead focuses on the face of their sacrifices. She sees so much of his mother in him. Nathalie wonders if she’s being paranoid about Gabriel’s influence. “How was today, Adrien? I assume the day has treated you–”
Without warning, the boy finally drags the rest of him along, and attached to his wrist was a girl’s hand, tightly wrapped around it. Freshly-crafted black stilettos decorated her fingernails. A wicked, sly smile on the girl’s face as she slinks through the door behind her lover. The same girl who had been a thorn in Gabriel’s side now continues to be a thorn in Nathalie’s. For a split second, the assistant’s smile fades – to Adrien, she seemed content. But the girl’s wicked smile continued to grow.
Nathalie catches her slip; her face twists disingenuously, the corners of her lips turn upwards as the assistant is forced to watch the young teen gently guide the grotesque girl up the stairs. Nathalie remains at the bottom of the stairs, still and watching.
“–Well.”
She finally found her lost breath, tucking her hands neatly behind her back. If she could, she’d throw the pest out. Unfortunately, it seems that the pair of young teens has formed a symbiotic relationship. Or, as far as Nathalie can tell. As much as she would like to pull the pair apart, the grave was dug when she allowed the boy to pursue his romantic adventures on his own. It seems that he will learn the hard way, just as she had.
“Good,” Adrien began, his steps stopping momentarily, “I’ve been enjoying my Greek History class!” He doesn’t mind as the girl steps ahead of him, pulling him up the stairs with her strength– this time, guiding him towards his room. “Ah-, hold on,” He muttered, “We’re going to study mathematics. You know, she–she really can’t focus in math class.” He lies. She knows.
A cold sweat down her cheek as Adrien, the boy under her care, goes to shut the door. She calls out, “The door stays open, please.” She freezes, instinctively, and a thumb brushes the dry skin of her ring finger. Then, a cold sigh of relief right as she moves her hands to adjust her glasses. Her eyes flicker to the brunette, the fox-like eyes stare back in judgment. But to no surprise, the blond teen listens, while the brunette he’s brought along tries to convince him otherwise.
Satisfied, Nathalie nods, resisting the smile trying to worm its way onto her face despite the circumstances. “Don’t stay up too late. Curfew is nine. She must be out by nine-thirty, at the latest.” she reminds the teens. Her heels click as she turns away, only catching a glimpse of Adrien shaking his head at something–not her orders, but thankfully to the girl at his side, or Nathalie assumes.
“Nathalie?”
The boy calls out, and the woman halts. Quickly, she turns her head towards the boy at the top of the stairs. Slightly blinded by the light emanating behind his figure. Without a response from her, he continued.
“The Striped Graylings–sorry, the larval– can you see if they’re available now? It’s hard to complete my collection, and–”
“Of course.”
Nathalie interrupts, nodding her head.
“I’ll let you know when you don’t have company, Adrien. Also – Remember, you have that speech on Friday.”
She retires to the office that was once Gabriel's, a place she once devoted so much time to helping the man with his schemes for the miraculous. She had dedicated even more to planning trips to find a cure for Émilie. Now, those times spent together are memories stuck in sombre reminiscence. Soured by time, with how she’d allow the man to reach the extents that he did. Nathalie knows that there is no time to make amends, so when it’s her time, the hand she’ll reach for will be for Émilie’s, but Gabriel will pull her down. As he always did. But that is wishful thinking.
Maybe god will be kind and place her in purgatory, so she doesn’t have to choose.
Sitting in her chair, Nathalie boots up her laptop. For a moment, she stares at her reflection on the dark screen. Then, her schedule automatically opens. She stares at the date, the first Friday of April. Her lips tug downwards; she silently hopes that Adrien cancels. Each year, he has to speak about Gabriel as if he were a hero. Oh, if she could roll her eyes.
Anything for Adrien’s happiness, she supposes.
Idly moving her mouse to her bookmarks, she clicks open the tab. Grown used to the sight of dead and living insects for sale, including tools for pinning butterflies. The website isn’t morbid, no, she’s seen far worse. If anything, it’s amusing that Gabriel and Adrien have some sort of ‘hobby’ when it comes to insects. Nathalie quickly huffed in amusement, smirking at that one resemblance. Even if Gabriel’s hobby was fuel for his terroristic…
…
Oh no.