Chapter Text
Why did he let her go?
This was the sole thought that carried Nathalie all the way back to her apartment and through the next day. Hawkmoth had her right where he wanted her, defenceless with the peacock miraculous in his fingers. And he left. He gave her warning to run, and he parted ways, empty handed. No revenge, no retrieval, just an end.
Gabriel wasn’t the type of man who committed mercy out of habit, not when it mattered. By all rights a stranger holding the peacock miraculous might as well have been the same as a stranger holding a gun to Adrien’s head.
Why did he let her go?
She sat on her exercise bike, basking in the mid-day glow slipping through her window in sharp blocks, and Jagged Stone playing on the television, but all of that was tuned out for that same damn question. Her legs pumped like mechanical pistons, grinding those petals into stumps that cut the underside of her shoes. The action made her muscles scream for mercy, but she kept on pumping, kept on pushing, because she couldn’t stop now, she had to give chase. Chase that question until she found the answer.
Why did he let her go?
Her eyes had enough agency to seek out her phone, idly wondering how many messages she had obtained since last night. Did he figure her out? While she had been Mayura, he might have been staring at her for quite a while before she woke up. Maybe he saw the striking similarities, maybe she said something terribly revealing in her sleep; after all, in the state she was left in after that brutal attack the quantum masking of the miraculous could very well have failed.
No, that didn’t make any sense. If he realized her ploy, he’d have taken her home with him and scolded her when she woke up. Or not. Maybe he did recognise her but was so disgusted by her trickery that he didn’t dare let her return to the manor, and realizing she was too pathetic to waste his skills on didn’t even give her the dignity of being killed by his hands.
The fact that her mind was already going to such extremes might have indicated that she shouldn’t have skipped her morning coffee.
But why did he let her-
The sharp knock at the door wrested Nathalie from her appraisal, giving her shoulder one last squeeze before she sat up, dropping down from the exercise bike a little shaky. No matter how many times she reminded herself that the pain was just a phantom of Mayura’s now healed injuries, she could shake the pangs that shot up her arms. Still, she refused to let that halt her routine and letting herself grow soft.
“Just a minute!” She called out to the door, mentally going through the list of possible visitors. She wasn’t expecting anybody today, was she?
She passed through the main room to reach the bathroom, snatching a towel off her shower to sling around her shoulders and dab at the sweat she was gushing from every pour. As she passed, she shot a glance to Duusuu, who was taking her sweet ass time retreating into her hiding spot. “Duusuu, did you order more stuff online? I told you; you can’t keep stealing my credit card.”
“B-But we were out of that special popcorn I like.” Duusuu moaned but hid herself amongst the books on Nathalie’s shelf.
The nice part of being at home was that Nathalie didn’t feel the instinctive need to put up a professional barrier, even when reaching the door. It was nice not to have to filter everything she did through a calm, perfect mask of stoicism. She didn’t have to look the part, she didn’t have to be polite, and she didn’t have to care.
“What do you-”
Well, so she thought, until she found her boss standing outside her door.
Nathalie froze midway through wiping the towel across her chest, sweating like a pig and clad in only her work out clothes which might as well have been completely invisible for all the difference it made in the moment.
And Gabriel was not looking at her face.
Gabriel’s eyes, uncharacteristically wide, were locked onto her sweat-slicked collarbone, then trailed down, flickering with something unreadable—shock, perhaps? Disbelief?
Oh, I think he likes what he sees. Mayura coo’d in her mind. At least we beat Emilie in one area.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Nathalie squealed back with a slight twitch to her eye.
Nathalie, still frozen, felt the heat of exertion in her body double in intensity. If her heart had been hammering before from the workout, it was positively trying to break through her ribcage now.
For a brief, horrifying second, neither of them spoke.
Gabriel blinked. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out. He cleared his throat. “I—” He cleared his throat again, sharper this time, straightening his tie with a visible effort. “Soup.”
It was a bizarre thing to say in the moment.
It was even more bizarre that it sounded oddly sexy when he said it.
GlitterGirl: How’s your holder holding up?
ButterBoy: 
GlitterGirl: Oh, he has it bad.
ButterBoy: Ya think!?
Gabriel Agreste wasn’t a pervert.
He was a man of discipline. A visionary. A widower, for god’s sake. And yet, none of that seemed to matter anymore because for some ungodly reason, his brain had decided to start seeing Nathalie in a way that was, frankly, unacceptable.
He always knew that Nathalie was an attractive woman. He did technically have a crush on her before Emilie swept him off his feet. But this was… Well, not what he was ready for. He’d seen her as cute, as beautiful, never as something that could make his body betray him like this.
When did she get so... uh... ravishing?
No. No, no, no. That wasn’t right. That was not the word he meant to use. His vocabulary was extensive, masterful, sophisticated—he never used a word without careful deliberation. So why had that one slipped out like a thief in the night, breaking into the carefully fortified vault of his mind?
Ravishing. Ravishing.
Like a villainous seductress in one of those cheap romance novels Nathalie secretly read but thought he didn’t know about.
…Oh god.
Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply through his nose and exhaling through clenched teeth. This was Mayura’s fault.
Everything had been fine—normal—until that fight. Until she had challenged him. Until she had smirked at him, taunted him, wielded confidence like a blade and met him on equal footing, with none of the deference he was used to. Until she messed with his mind and screwed everything up.
That was where this all started. Not because of anything ridiculous like real feelings or repressed emotions finally surfacing. No, no, this was simply a case of psychological conditioning. Battle had a way of altering the mind, of forging new neural pathways, of creating false associations—
Yes. Yes, that was it.
This wasn’t attraction. This was a malfunction. A temporary distortion of perception caused by an unfortunate series of events, exacerbated by a moment of weakness.
He just needed time to let it pass.
To cleanse himself of these ridiculous, ridiculous thoughts.
Her bustline meant nothing to him. The smooth transition from her collarbone to the telltale lines of defined muscular tissue passing down her arms, tough enough to be reliable, but not enough to detract; absolutely meaningless. And the less said about her hips or how her curves perfectly plunged into the hemline of her shorts…
Where was he going with this again? Right. To stop. Stop thinking.
To stop thinking about—
Why was he still staring!?
“Soup.” He repeated again, the one word he managed to get out in his drooling state, mindlessly thrusting his hand forward wielding a thermos. “For you.”
Oh. Right, that soup. Chicken soup. He brought her chicken soup, because that’s what you gave sick people to make them feel better. Suddenly, the thought occurred that he had no idea what was making Nathalie feel under the weather and he might be more than a little stupid.
It seemed to take a lot of effort at first for Nathalie to drag her gaze away from him, eyeing up the thermos through uncertain eyes. She looked like she was measuring it. Was it too small for her? Who cared about the size as long as it got the job done? Why was he sweating bullets?
As her head inclined, he couldn’t help sneaking glances at her back. Her usually perfectly styled hair, drenched in sweat and thrown down in a wild mess, forming a river of luscious curls down her spine, narrow enough to trick Gabriels eyes into seeing it stretch on forever.
He was not in the right mental state to be ambushed by Nathalie in anything less than a conservative blazer that painted 90% of her body in the same dark colour. Not after that damn Mayura filled his mind with unnecessary feelings, not when he was left mentally exhausted and looking for relief.
Nathalie was giving him a look. He couldn’t quite place what it meant—suspicious? amused? concerned? disgusted?—but that didn’t matter. What mattered was he needed to leave immediately before his brain melted out of his ears.
"You didn’t have to do this," She said, reaching for the thermos.
Gabriel almost let go of it. Almost.
But then her fingers brushed against his, and—
Gabriel let out a strangled sound—half-cough, half-broken modem—before he violently shoved the thermos into her hands like a man trying to rid himself of a cursed artifact.
"Nonsense," He managed to croak, voice barely passing the threshold of human comprehension. "You're sick. You need soup."
Nathalie eyed him like he’d just declared soup the secret to eternal life.
"...Right."
She turned toward the kitchen, and he absolutely did not stare at the way she moved. But he did want to note that every cock of her hip set off the first note of a drum solo in his head, and that by the time she reached the kitchen she’d managed to get out a whole speakeasy showtune in his mental palace.
Nope. He did not do that.
He wasn’t that kind of man.
He was a professional.
He was a grieving widower.
He was going to die right here in her apartment if he didn’t get out immediately.
“I wasn’t expecting you to stop by unannounced.” She hummed, placing the thermos on the counter.
“My apologies.” Gabriel snapped his gaze to focus on the pictures adorning her walls before he could take too much notice of the face that she was bending down to reach something. “I’ve had much on my mind today, and… I wanted to see you immediately.”
“Sir?” Nathalie asked softly, trying to pretend she was completely oblivious to his attempts to politely avoid taking her in. “Are you okay?”
He chanced looking back at her, only to find- It wasn’t her fault, okay? It was Mayura’s idea, her dumb whispers making her body act up while Nathalie was distracted by desperately searching for a distraction. She didn’t realize that, by the time Gabriel turned to face her, that she had plopped the merchandise on the counter, practically serving it to him.
Suffice it to say, the man looked like a dying fish desperately flapping to return to the water.
“I’m a little out of sorts, that’s all.” He pushed out, hoarse and breathless. “And I didn’t expect to see you so… Casual. I’m too used to you behind a desk in your business suit.”
She couldn’t deny that Mayura had a point, that there was a certain thrill, a sense of power, in being able to get this reaction from Gabriel ‘The Sleeping Dead’ Agreste. Audrey had tried many times to introduce him to models to sate some short-term relief in the wake of Emilie’s death, and Nathalie knew many of those models far outstripped her in looks. Yet, where they had failed to resuscitate the walking corpse Gabriel had become in the wake of many forced dates, Mayura and Nathalie had managed to create life in those eyes in the span of a night.
It was a glimmer of hope that led her down this train of thought. The idea of Gabriel being stunned by Mayura because he’d lacked any genuine female interest since Emilie’s passing, she could excuse that as not being Mayura-centric, that if any of those models had expressed any genuine affection, that they saw him more as just a job to finish, they could have caught him off balance too.
But now? Nathalie was just there, in a state of undress, sure, but Gabriel had fitted many women without so much as a crack in his façade. He’d seen many attractive ladies working out in even less conservative clothes when he’d drop Adrien off at the gym sometimes. But it’s only now that he’s reacting.
Does that mean it’s only her, and by extension her alter-ego, specifically that was getting to him? If it were anyone else in the same position, would he have kept his cool?
She finds her fingers combing through her wet fringe, clearing it from her gaze and just letting herself look at the man before her.
He was adorable.
In a very undignified way, of course.
Gabriel was normally a man of complete control—calculating, composed, and distant. But right now? Right now, he was floundering.
His sharp blue eyes darted wildly, searching for some neutral ground, somewhere to rest that didn’t set his brain on fire. The pictures on the wall. The ceiling. The floor. The damn thermos like it was the most fascinating object in the world. Anywhere but her.
And yet, his gaze kept betraying him, flickering back to her—just for a second, just long enough to take in another forbidden detail before he forced himself to look away again. The taut line of his jaw, the way his fingers clenched ever-so-slightly at his sides…
If she hadn’t known him so well, she might’ve missed it. But she did. Here she was, subtly shifting her weight against the counter, tilting her head just so, watching as Gabriel visibly battled himself like some ancient war was being waged in his soul.
It was a high, but eventually that high had to end, brought down by the more logical, the more caring part of her. As much as Mayura bathed in the excitement of putting Gabriel on the spot like this, Nathalie had to face that an element of this was leaving Gabriel uncomfortable. Most likely, he was welling up with shame and confusion.
She had to take a moment to collect herself, to let the power trip leak from her system. At the end of the day, she didn’t want Gabriel to suffer or feel cornered, especially not at the hands of her selfish desire for him. She was his friend and confidant first.
Snatching her towel off the table as she passed, she made her way over to her room. “Well, if you give me a minute to clean up-”
His hand caught her own, pulling it in to hug his other hand. There was nothing breaking his gaze from looking down into her eyes, and a smile threatened to overtake his trademark frown.
“I-I don’t mean it as a bad thing.” He said gently, thumb idly stroking her palm. “I was starting to fear that my work was taking over your life to the point you didn’t get to be casual anymore.”
It was then that Nathalie reminded herself why he was here in the first place. He had come to check up on her, bringing soup hoping to sooth whatever was ailing her, and found himself floundering because he didn’t want to disrespect her. He was here because he cared about her. Sometimes, it was easy to forget.
In that moment, she couldn’t help but think back to Mayura kissing Hawkmoth on the cheek to tell him how adorable he was. She wanted to do it again, but she stopped herself, restricting her response to squeezing his hand back.
“Thank you, Sir.” She breathed.
He tilted his head. “For what?”
“I have no idea.” She shrugged before disappearing into her bedroom.
Ten minutes later, enough time for both her and Gabriel to cool down and push aside the awkward start to their meeting, the two found themselves by the kitchen counter. Nathalie had been surprised to find, on her return to the main room, that Gabriel had taken the liberty of buttering some bread and setting out a bowl to go with her soup.
Gabriel watched her poke at her meal in a contemplative silence. There was a lot on his mind, but Nathalie could see that he wasn’t entirely sure where to start. It would be so much easier if she could tell him the truth and skip all of the parts that Mayura was there for, but she made this bed, she has to lie in it.
Eventually, he broke the silence with a sigh. “I assume you’ve been paying attention to the news.”
Nathalie winced.
“I know of Adrien’s recent adventure, yes.”
How could she miss it? The newsfeed was blowing up with images of the Freedom Fighters’ compound in flames and grainy helicopter shots of Chat Noir being ran through by Dauntless. Adrien all alone, surviving by the skin of his teeth, because no one came to his aid. Because Mayura stole Hawkmoth’s attention. Without her prideful scheme, Hawkmoth would have been there to protect Chat. She might have been as well.
She sighed, gripping her forehead; it was the only way to stop herself from shaking. “And I received you text message about ambushing Mayura. Which would you like to discuss first?”
It would have been incredibly convenient for her if she had read that damn text message announcing Gabriel’s planned ambush mere minutes before she got there. Instead, she was too jazzed about her mission that she’d left her phone at home.
Gabriel sharply inhaled, fighting against the weariness that threatened to make his body buckle. “Mayura is the more pressing issue. Or at least, the history that surrounds her.”
Nathalie blinked, momentarily frozen in confusion. “History?”
“There’s something I’ve neglected to tell you, Nathalie.” He stretched his hands along the length of the counter, pulling at the knots of tension in his muscles. Whatever he was about to tell her came with a bout of shame. “I trust you with… Everything. So, know that I only withheld this out of a belief that it didn’t matter anymore.”
There were very few things Nathalie didn’t know about the man before her.
“Until today.” She finished for him, setting down her bowl with a nod. “I understand, Sir.”
Gabriel’s fingers tapped against the counter—slow, methodical beats that betrayed the hesitation swirling in his mind. His jaw tensed, then relaxed, like he was bracing himself for something unpleasant. Nathalie watched him carefully, noting the rare uncertainty in his usually unwavering posture.
He was building up to something.
She didn’t rush him. She simply observed, waiting as he gathered his words.
Then, at last, he exhaled and said, “Mayura was not the first person to steal the Peacock Miraculous from us.”
Nathalie blinked.
For a moment, she thought she had misheard him.
“What?”
Gabriel’s fingers stilled. “Several years ago, in the fledgling days of Emilie’s illness, you took Adrien on a trip with his aunt and uncle.”
How could she forget that trip? It was a tour of Venice where Nathalie spent the entire week playing babysitter. Not to the children, but the adults. She still remembered when a drunk Amilie and Colt had stormed the stage in a nightclub to perform an iteration of ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ that would forever scar Adrien and Felix.
“During your time away, an incident occurred.” His voice was tight, his expression unreadable, but Nathalie caught the tension in his shoulders. His grip on the counter had turned rigid, knuckles faintly white. “Emilie was attacked in the night by an unknown assailant and stripped of the Peacock. This wasn’t some dime-a-dozen thief, this was a trained fighter who knew exactly what they were up against.”
Nathalie felt her mouth go dry. Emilie had been assaulted, Duusuu had been kidnapped, all while Nathalie was in an entirely different country. Even worse, if someone ripped the Peacock from Amilie, and knew what it was, then that meant…
She was hesitant to ask, but the words still escaped. “There’s someone who knows you have the Peacock then?”
“No.” He quickly clarified, his voice as hard as it was certain. “Emilie was fortunately transformed at the time, though what she was doing out there I have no idea.”
According to Duusuu’s recollection, Emilie had been taking the damaged Peacock out for joyrides under Gabriel’s nose, using the excess stamina and durability to party through the night. Nathalie had no doubt that such frequent outings is how the assailant managed to track her down in the first place, and that they’d probably ambushed Emilie while she was drunk.
Nathalie did not think it would be wise to reveal this to Gabriel right now, so she remained with her ears open. Otherwise, he, just as she did, would start wondering just how such frequent reckless use of the broken miraculous might have affected her condition. Could she have been saved if one of them was attentive enough to notice what she was doing?
“Her attacker didn’t care about who was behind the mask, they knocked her out, snatched the miraculous and left.” He gritted his teeth, pulling the words out like he was pulling out bone. “That was when…”
He looked away, continuing quietly. “When Emilie’s symptoms started to show.”
Technically, Emilie had started to show symptoms prior. They were small things, fainting spells, random feverish episodes, things that could be easily dismissed. However, after uncovering the consequences of using a broken miraculous, Gabriel found these signs to be worrying enough to send Adrien away on that trip. Him and Emilie didn’t want Adrien around to see her in that state if things suddenly got serious.
But after Nathalie and Adrien returned, the symptoms had become more frequent, harder to dismiss.
Briefly, Nathalie wondered if, in Gabriel’s mind, that was enough of a connection to consider Emilie’s attacker as responsible for her fate.
“Not only was Adrien in danger, but part of me believed that having the Peacock with her protected her from her symptoms.” He exhaled, the sound slow and measured, yet heavy. “That night was the first time I called on Nooroo to transform me.”
She straightened slightly. “As Hawkmoth?”
“Not Hawkmoth.” His gaze flickered, distant, as if he were looking through her rather than at her. “Someone… better.”
There was something eerie in the way he said it, something that made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end.
“I spent a week shaking people down, testing out my capabilities in fights I should have never been able to survive, until I managed to draw out a lead.”
That explained a lot. She had always known Gabriel was desperate, but not to this extent. Not to the point of putting his own body on the line, of resorting to physical force instead of calculated manipulation.
His fingers curled slightly against the countertop, the movement slow, deliberate, like he was grounding himself in the present. “I found their hideaway, a lab buried under the city of Nantes. I recovered Duusuu.” His voice dropped lower. “Suffice it to say, I ensured that there was no one left to threaten my family.”
A pause.
“At least, I thought I had.”
Something cold slithered down Nathalie’s spine.
“I think I’m getting it,” She murmured, glancing down in thought. Then, looking up at him, she spoke with more certainty. “You think that these demons are connected to the group you fought before?”
His voice rose to a vicious growl, throwing his arm out to lash out at the air. “Their leader, this ‘Mastermind’, is a survivor from my attack. I know it. I recognise the set-up, the symbols, and they somehow have a grudge against Hawkmoth before his first public appearance.” Fingers tensed, clamping down into a steel fist, picturing a throat to wrap around. “That week was the only other time a butterfly holder could have made a splash in our lifetime.”
Nathalie’s eyes fell to her soup, seeing her day reflected in the thick liquid, and the new complications as breadcrumbs rising to the surface. “You’re saying we now have an entirely new faction that’s out for your head?”
Gabriel nodded, gravely. “And they already have two new miraculous in their hands.”
She shot up in her seat. “T-Two!?” She gasped out, mouth hanging agape.
I was unconscious for ten minutes! What the hell happened?
“Adrien discovered that the Freedom Fighters had the bee miraculous. That’s why he was there that night, completely without my knowledge.”
“What about the ho-” She stopped herself before she could forget that Nathalie shouldn’t know anything about the Mayura situation other than the fact that Gabriel fought her. “The other miraculous you’ve mentioned?”
His jaw locked up again, his shoulders rolled back to try and relax himself. Even before he spoke, Nathalie knew he’d lost the miraculous and was struggling to admit it. “Long-story short, I caught Mayura in the middle of going after the horse miraculous. It activated during our fight and took us to a different realm.” The interdimensional travel was waved off so casually, without even a mention of meeting Big Foot, the talking head or the slime monster that almost devoured him. “I… Almost lost Nooroo.”
It was only that moment that Nathalie noticed the aforementioned kwami had been sitting on the counter this entire time, and that Gabriel’s hand occasionally moved to run his fingers upside Nooroo’s head. A gentle, comforting gesture that was completely foreign to Gabriel and Nooroo’s dynamic.
“But we managed to escape thanks to Mayura’s efforts.” He continued “Mayura was rendered unconscious and the horse miraculous was within my grasp, but… I was ambushed.”
“So, the demons have the horse and bee miraculous.” Nathalie sighed, shaking her head. “What about the Peacock?”
Nathalie leaned in. This was the question that interested her above all else. If Gabriel didn’t know she was Mayura, then why had he let Mayura leave with the Peacock?
She watched him carefully, every movement, every flicker of hesitation in his expression. He had been uncharacteristically open with her just moments ago, spilling truths she never imagined he would share. So why did this one detail remain just out of reach?
After a beat of silence—long enough to stretch the anticipation taut between them—Gabriel finally answered.
“…Mayura slipped through my fingers while I was fighting off the demons.”
Nathalie’s breath caught.
That was a lie.
Gabriel just lied to her.
Why the hell would Gabriel lie about this? Her fingers tensed against the countertop, her mind racing. What did he have to gain from keeping this from her?
No explanation came, he just stared at her expectantly.
Nathalie tilted her head slightly, giving him one last chance to elaborate. Nothing.
So he was really sticking to this, then.
She exhaled through her nose, shifting her posture as she leaned back in her seat. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sir.”
“I’m not too worried on that front.” Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “Mayura is a wild card, but I don’t think she has any desire to be our enemy. In fact, I believe she could be convinced to be an asset.”
“Is that so?”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound convinced.”
Nathalie let a slow smirk creep up the corner of her lips. “It’s just that you were calling for her head the last time we discussed her.” She rested her chin on her knuckles, voice smooth and laced with amusement. “It must have been a life-changing adventure for you to change your tune so quickly.”
Gabriel stiffened. “W-What are you implying?”
She tapped her nails against the counter in thought, watching him squirm. Oh, this was interesting.
He cleared his throat, adopting a haughty tone. “I just had the benefit of cooling my head and realized that she could make for a great meat shield!”
Nathalie pressed her lips together, nodding in mock understanding. “Of course. An inspired decision. I believe you, Sir.”
Gabriel frowned. “Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?”
“Because you’re lying.”
His nostrils flared. “I am not!”
“Mm.” She took a slow sip of her soup, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him shift in his seat.
Gabriel huffed, crossing his arms. “Regardless of what you think happened, my point still stands. Mayura is better as an ally than an enemy.”
“Sure. If you say so.”
Nathalie watched him closely, stirring her soup as if the conversation wasn’t far more interesting than the meal in front of her.
After a moment, she asked, “Have you told Adrien about this yet?”
Gabriel’s expression soured. “Not entirely.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What does not entirely mean?”
He looked away, tapping his fingers against the counter. “He doesn’t need to know anything about this when he’s grounded from being Chat Noir.”
Nathalie sighed, setting down her spoon. “Gabriel, even if he’s being punished, he’s still your partner. He should be kept in the loop.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “If you don’t, he’ll only grow resentful.”
Gabriel let out a short, bitter laugh. “He already resents me.”
His voice was quiet but heavy, laced with something deeper than mere frustration. He pressed his palms flat against the counter, shoulders stiff. “He wishes I was dead, that I wasn’t his father. He’d be so much happier with Emilie around instead.”
Nathalie frowned, watching the tension in his posture.
“…Did he actually say that?”
Gabriel hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Well, no…”
She arched a brow.
“But he inferred it!” He snapped, throwing up a hand. “His actions, his tone—it’s obvious what he thinks!”
Nathalie exhaled through her nose, drumming her fingers against the counter. “Gabriel.”
“What?”
Nathalie leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on one hand. “Let me guess. You’re about to tell me how disrespectful, reckless, stubborn, and bull-headed he is?”
Gabriel scoffed, crossing his arms. “He is! Do you realize how insane this whole situation is? I tell him to stay put, and what does he do? He goes behind my back, joins a gang, and gets himself stabbed!” His fingers curled into fists as his voice rose. “That child has no sense of caution. No respect for authority. He never thinks things through, he just does whatever ridiculous idea pops into his head without considering the consequences!”
Nathalie took a slow sip of her soup to hide the smirk tugging at her lips. Sounds just like a man I knew as a teenager before he became a cold fashion icon.
She didn’t say it out loud, of course. She valued her life.
Gabriel wasn’t done. “Do you know what he said to me?” He let out a bitter laugh. “That all I want is control!”
“Imagine that.”
“Damn straight I want control!” He slammed his hand against the counter. “Because the moment that control slips, this is what happens! Adrien does something reckless, he risks the entire operation, and he—”
His voice faltered. His chest heaved, his breath uneven, and for a second, it seemed like he was struggling to find the words.
Then, without warning, he turned away from her, shoulders tense, hands gripping the edge of the counter like he needed to physically steady himself.
“…He was stabbed, Nathalie.” His voice was quiet now, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “My little boy was dying. And I wasn’t there.”
Nathalie’s breath hitched.
“I had to rely on some baker girl and her nosy friend to save his life.” His head lowered, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping the counter. “I have all the power in the universe…” His fingers trembled, his glare dropping to the miraculous hanging from his shirt. “…And yet I’m still the same feeble failure, sitting by my wife’s side, powerless to do anything but watch her rot away before my eyes.”
Gabriel exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "I always hated being the bad guy." His voice was quieter now, drained of its usual commanding edge. "But I was so good at it."
Nathalie blinked, watching him cautiously.
"I was always the one who had to break up Adrien’s fun, tell him what he did wrong, be the one to teach him the boring lessons and make him do the nightmare chores." He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "And Emilie? She got to be the good guy. She planned the fun activities, introduced him to all the cool things, understood what he needed. She got to be the one he loved."
His fingers drummed absently against the counter. "But I knew… I knew you needed both. Someone to show you how to make the most of life, and someone to ground you in how to survive that life." He inhaled sharply. "I just… I just wish we got to switch the roles every now and then."
Nathalie watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling with something deeper than mere words.
"And then… Hawkmoth." He spat the name like it was something sour. "Hawkmoth and Chat Noir—that was the first time I got to connect with him like Emilie always did. We were partners. I was his mentor, his ally. I finally got to be the one showing him the excitement of something new."
His eyes darkened. "I was a villain… but I got to be the good guy for once."
"And all it’s done is endanger my son." His voice cracked. "I should have stuck to what worked. I should have kept him locked away. I should have never let him keep the black cat. I should have never brought him into this. I should have—”
His breath hitched.
His hands trembled.
“I should have never let Emilie be the one to use the Peacock."
His voice was barely above a whisper. "It should have been me." His eyes fell shut. "It should have been me…"
Gabriel’s hands curled into fists, his nails pressing into his palms, but he didn’t respond. He simply stared at the counter, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Nathalie exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. She straightened, planting her hands on the table as she leaned in. “Gabriel.” Her voice was steady, unwavering. “Did you lie to me when you said that all of this was to make your family whole again?”
His jaw tightened, but his answer came without hesitation. “No.”
“Then it doesn’t matter which of you died that day. The family would still be incomplete.”
He flinched, just slightly, before scoffing. “Emilie wouldn’t have let any of this happen. She would have moved on by now.”
I wouldn’t.
“Stop saying such pointless nonsense, you stupid, stupid man.”
His head snapped up at that, his eyes narrowing.
“You’re here. You can’t change that. Adrien is Chat Noir. You can’t change that either.”
She crossed her arms. “We can debate all day about whether bringing him into this was a bad idea, but the fact remains that the cat is out of the bag—” she paused, then smirked. “—and it can’t be put back.”
Gabriel let out a sharp breath through his nose.
“Adrien is a hormonal, emotional, reckless teenager," she continued. "And he’ll grow into a fine man who, no matter what you do, will escape the mansion to live his own life on his own terms.”
Gabriel tensed at that, but she didn’t stop.
“He’s going to make so many mistakes, and a lot of them we won’t be able to stop.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, something wry and tired pulling at it.
“But the future—his future—is always coming. You can’t stop it, you can’t control it, but you can make sure that he’s equipped to face it.”
Gabriel stared at her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. A long silence stretched between them before he finally spoke.
“…Did you just call me stupid twice?”
She huffed. “Don’t act surprised.”
They held that stare, his scathing while hers were challenging. At that moment, she didn’t really know what was going on in his head, if he was actually listening to her point or soley focusing on being offended by her partially going against him.
And maybe a few days ago that uncertainty would have been enough to make her buckle and stand down, but she had the peacock now, she had Mayura, and Mayura was telling her that she was more than his assistant. And after their latest interactions in both forms, an inkling of hope thought that maybe there was more than friendship there as well.
Whatever she was, for Gabriel and Adrien’s sake, she had a responsibility to ensure that Gabriel kept his head out of his ass. And out of… Whatever dark place put those distressing utterances of ‘should have been me’ in his mouth.
“Fine.” He huffed, though his lips did quirk upward. “I won’t keep Chat Noir benched forever, but my punishment still stands.” He drew his fingers up the front of his head, tapping his nose and humming softly. “And we need to establish more rules going forward if he wants the ring back.”
She fought to stop herself from breathing a relieved sigh. “I understand.” Nathalie nodded, though as she watched Gabriel slip away from the counter, she couldn’t help but shuffle closer to him. “If I may, perhaps I should have a talk with Adrien. He might respond better to… Anyone other than you.”
He narrowed his eyes at the sudden suggestion, but didn’t seem to abhor the idea. There was a silent discussion held between his and Nooroo’s gazes before he nodded. “Thank you, Nathalie.” It always sounded like it hurt when Gabriel thanked somebody, and yet it always sounded good when he thanked her.
Besides, he knew as well as Nathalie that she’d always been better at making Adrien understand something than him.
Just as he reaches the door, she quickly adds. “I worry for Adrien too, Sir.”
In far more ways than a simple assistant should care for someone else’s son. A son who isn’t her own no matter how much of his life she helped raise him.
Gabriel stopped his exit, catching the doorframe in hand, slowly tilting his head back to peer over at her. “It’s been difficult to work without you.”
She offered him a fond smile. “Oh, so you’ve had to sort your own e-mails for once?”
He broke out into a strangled groan. “I have no idea how you do it. How many people need to message me per day?”
“Lots of coffee, Sir.”
An hour later Gabriel was back in the hallway. It was an hour because, despite fully intending to leave the apartment and all the awkward energy behind as soon as he could, Gabriel had managed to convince himself to stay with Nathalie for a little while longer. Maybe he was just lonely, or wanted an excuse to not return to the house yet, but it was easy to settle into Nathalie’s living room and talk about… Well, nonsense.
For so much of their relationship, especially since Emilie’s passing, the two have been almost all business and professionalism. They discussed their job, they discussed Adrien’s development, they made disinterested jabs about all the people they find annoying and errands they have to run. And it was always dry and restrained, as if they were afraid of someone catching them speaking like normal human beings.
It had been a long time since they talked like friends, since Nathalie teased him directly instead of hiding it behind snark sheltered by cynicism. He’d forgotten how much he liked being around Nathalie until her holiday. She was… Good. She was good. And he was lucky to have her. Uh, close. As an assista- Friend- Woman he associated with and trusted above all else.
“What are you thinking about, Master?” Nooroo asked, carelessly perched on his shoulder.
“Nothing, nothing, just…” Gabriel frowned, looking down at his arm. He pulled his forearm up, tensing his bicep for a rather unimpressive show. “I think I need to work out more.”
“Why?”
“No reason.” Gabriel cleared his throat. “Staying in shape is important, you know.”
The unconvinced, deadpan glare Nooroo sent his way could rival his own. Gabriel felt his tie grow tight enough to choke him. “What? Am I not allowed to care about my image?”
“I’m sure Nathalie will like it.”
“Oh, shut up.”