GUARDS ROAMED ALL OVER LA Santé Prison.

Chat Noir stalked through the alleyway like a phantom—silent, invisible, and feeling half-dead. "Claws in."

As soon as the magic of the Miraculous returned Plagg into the world, his kwami started pleading rapid-fire. "Adrien, I'm so sorry. Please, let's just go back to the hotel—"

Adrien shoved a chunk of Camembert into Plagg's open jaw, mid-sentence, ignoring the way his hand trembled as it reached out.

"Let me do this. You don't know love," he whispered.

Plagg had never met Emelie. He didn't know what this meant, couldn't feel how much it hurt. Their kind were not raised in a family, then thrust into the world to experience its cruelties. Everything nature intended for them, they were born knowing.

It was dangerous and unwise, the thing Adrien was about to do, but he had to.

"So you will never know heartbreak."

"Hey—"

"Plagg, claws out."

Adrien remembered the training Plagg had given him before his brief stint as Cat Walker. How the quantum masking of the Miraculous could be manipulated by personality and emotion. If you focus hard, you can be a completely different Chat Noir.

This time it was that acidic feeling—heartbreak—that Adrien concentrated on, locating it in his heart like a star's iron core and letting it supernova through his arms and legs, ripple across his face, tingle in the length of his spine.

When the green whirls of magic faded, his enhanced physicality felt the same way it always did. But, in the front camera of his Cat Phone—which was now shiny obsidian instead of silver—he did not look the same.

His hair was black, and shaggy, falling in tousled strands over glowing emerald eyes. His pupils were heavily slitted, no matter which way he turned to the light.

The black cat tucked his staff away and glanced down at his body.

Instead of a golden bell at his collar, there was a belt that snaked down his leather-clad torso, splitting at the sternum and curling around his ribs. The largest difference were the spiked cuffs around his wrists, echoing the gleaming line of metal that punctured through the back of his combat boots.

With his staff, he launched himself over the high stone wall and strode up to the administrative block. The guards were stunned at his appearance. The warden was called, and unsurprisingly, she stopped him and asked for his business before he could even enter the building.

"Hessenpy sent me. I work with Ladybug and serve the city of Paris. I need to speak with Gabriel Agreste."

"Hessenpy usually warns me in advance if she's sending an investigator," the warden frowned, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening. "I didn't know Chat Noir needed a replacement, either."

Chat Noir was cheeky and aloof; Cat Walker was poised and repressed; this version of him could be anything he wanted. And what he wanted right now was an audience with his father, no matter what it took.

He squared his jaw and met her cautious gaze with confidence and slight impatience. The smile he offered was tight.

"Something unexpected came up today." He spun his staff and caught it smoothly. The outermost panel curved away to reveal the dial pad. "Classified information, but this interrogation could provide urgent information. I can call Hessenpy or Ladybug to verify the case if you like, though they are both currently busy dealing with—"

"That's okay," the warden said quickly, waving her hand to the guard working reception.

He punched a few lines into his computer, avoiding eye contact. I guess this version of me is intimidating. The guard paused and glanced at his superior, who directed an apologetic, expectant expression to the silent visitor.

"Your name, sir? For the visitation log."

He hadn't thought of a name. He opened his mouth, unwilling to dally and raise suspicion, and what came out was—

"The Familiar."

And so he was given an audience with Paris' most high-profile inmate.

The interrogation room was dilapidated and freezing, a hollow hunk of concrete bricks with a table, two chairs and thankfully, no camera. White daylight fell in slants from the barred, thin window.

"Wait here," the warden said. "Mr. Agreste will be escorted in. He will be patted down before leaving his cell, so it might take a while. There will be two guards with him at all times, you understand."

"Of course," the Familiar said suavely. He took a seat in one rigid wooden chair. "Merci."

Left to pass the time, he tried to piece together a game plan for when he finally saw his father again.

It had been months since the last time they met face-to-face. In TV newsreels and articles, he'd heard about how Gabriel and Nathalie were resistant to all negotiations and interrogation attempts. He'd read that both their cells had live CCTV surveillance to ensure they weren't still hiding and using the Peacock Miraculous. Everything that entered and exited their cells—them included—was rigorously screened for secret communications, biohazards, contraband; under UV light; through metal detectors; the works.

Still, the Familiar couldn't dispel the notion that his wily father had somehow kept a handle on the Peacock Miraculous. Today, he would find out everything once and for all.

The steel-reinforced door opened.

Two burly prison guards ushered Gabriel Agreste inside. They steered him to his seat and pushed him down, each placing a hand on his shoulder.

A burst of pain lashed across the Familiar lungs, unbidden and stinging.

Gabriel's wrists and ankles were bound in heavy handcuffs. He wore a grey jumpsuit, his glasses, and he had attempted to style his hair as best as possible into his usual slicked-back pompadour. But even his ramrod spine could not hide the greasiness of his hair, the thinness of his body, the pallid skin, those hollow, resigned eyes.

He hated seeing his father like this.

Fallen so far from the pedestal he had placed him on as a child. His father once had been the beginning and end of his world—his safe harbour, all things familiar.

If Emelie Agreste had been a supervillain—was she?—at least Adrien could rightly say no-one had seen it coming. She was gentle.

But he had seen his father's disdain for others, his tight grip over his son, his disconnection from society and dismissed it all as love and grief. He even had once stolen the grimoire and ignored the implications of his father possessing it.

He had been desperate and blindly hopeful, wishing for a reality that would never come. If he had been watching more closely, could he have prevented everything from spilling out like this?

The Familiar leaned back in his chair, tamping down on the fury in his stomach.

If Gabriel was confused by the new wielder of the Black Cat Miraculous, he didn't show it or say anything. To want knowledge was to be at a disadvantage in an interrogation—that's why he'd transformed into someone other than Chat Noir, who Gabriel was already used to dealing with.

The Familiar sank into this newest mask: the bored kitten, with sharp claws. When his first words hit the air, they were buttery and lined with confidence. "How are you, Mr. Agreste?"

Nothing. Not even a blink.

Every person wore a mask. Masks provided protection and utility; some outward facing identity that took people into their ideal social circles, closer to their chosen careers, or where they wanted to be in life.

The Familiar wasn't talking about superheroes and supervillains. Adrien Agreste's mask was the image of a prodigious son with a soft heart. He smiled for the cameras and said, Yes, Father, and appeared at elite functions as requested.

No-one expected darkness from the poor fallen angel. No-one expected him to have a violent bone in his body, to experience his emotions so deeply and permanently that sometimes toppling a building was his only relief.

"So talkative today." The silence ticked on.

Gabriel Agreste's mask used to look like a mourning father trying to do right by his son in uncertain waters. Now he'd swapped it for an unapologetic mastermind. He was itching to shatter this mask and illuminate whatever truth lay within.

Who are you, Father?

Underneath the table, his claws dug into his palms from squeezing his fists so tightly. He forcibly released his grip and sighed. "Your wife. Emelie. We found her today, underneath the mansion."

That snapped Gabriel's silence like a neck.

"Do not touch her. You do not know what you're dealing with."

Don't I? he seethed internally.

He wanted to grab his father by the collar and throw him into the wall. That destructive part of him reared its head, urging him to smash and crush and tear everything into shreds. If that included the person in front of him...so be it.

He leaned forward, breathing thinly. "So tell me." You bastard. "Tell me what you did to her."

Two deathly blue irises drilled into his green, vehemence running through them. "Never."

The Familiar rose from his chair and walked to the guards. "Leave us."

"No can do," the taller guard said. "Our protocol is that outside of his cell, Mr. Agreste is to be supervised by corrections staff at all times."

"I am a civil servant," he said genuinely, placing a palm to his heart. "Surely I count. I will only need five minutes and—" His staff extended in the blink of an eye, nearly slamming the guard in his chin. The metal whispered a hair's breadth away from their faces, and Chat Noir knew they felt the gust of its speed. "—I can handle myself."

They exchanged deliberative glances, all while Chat Noir's staff rested between their faces. "Okay," the short one agreed. "Five minutes sharp."

"I'll count the seconds," the superhero quipped easily.

When the concrete door slammed behind the exiting guards, his good humour dripped off his features and posture like acid. The staff went back to his leather belt, now set to record audio. He didn't trust himself, in all his instability, to remember everything accurately once he left.

"You'll tell me everything," he snarled, leaning down to Gabriel's ear. "What happened to Emelie? How much did she know? What did the Miraculous have to do with you two?"

Gabriel snorted haughtily, his voice a low rumble. "More civil servants than you have tried and failed to get those answers."

"I am not like the rest," the Familiar whispered. He was nearly sweating against the urge to choke something to death. "I don't bend to the juge d'instruction or to Ladybug. You'll find our ends are the same and our means are different."

He called a Cataclysm to his left palm, not even needing to invoke it verbally.

Each day, with more practice with Plagg, it felt like his powers grew and grew, lifting him like wind under wings, dragging him down like a whirlpool in the ocean. None of it scared him—not at this moment.

Now, he relished this feeling. His claw snuck forward enough that Gabriel could see its hissing, hungry destruction.

Gabriel attempted to remain stoic, but his eyes widened when the dark magic neared an inch from his cheek, instinctively craning away. "You wouldn't. You would never be Paris' hero again if you hurt me," he said factually, tensely, speeding up each sentence. "The guards outside would know. They would tell."

Chat Noir responded with a grating laugh.

"I only need to wait you out. Five minutes before you transform back."

"Oh?" He clenched his fist and snuffed the Cataclysm, as easy as letting go of a rope.

Gabriel watched the magic wink out in his hands and the Black Cat watched his prey: the slack-jawed, fearful realisation that, yes, he could revoke a Cataclysm. Whatever he expected from Chat Noir, the Familiar exceeded everything. His power was not bound by transformation or singularity or time limits anymore.

I am not the old me.

Still, he was losing ground. The more Gabriel successfully stalled each time detectives or lawyers dragged him out for an interrogation, the more his father hardened to his situation. But he had to have some weakness.

Whatever it took, he would get the answers he sought. No more secrets,

Chat Noir straightened and walked around the table to his vacant chair. "Your son is all alone in Le Grand."

Seeing his father flinch—why did he flinch?—brought him a small measure of pride, underneath the choking weight of everything else.

"Don't you fucking touch him."

Oh. Chat Noir saw his panic and desperation. The ever-present possibility of a loved one being hurt, no matter how small.

This was not the avenue he envisioned taking, but it seemed the only one available to him.

The Familiar smirked. "I think that depends entirely on you."

Gabriel brought his hands above the table as if to lunge at him, but the rattling of the heavy chains reminded them both who held control. "You're bluffing," he said instead. "You would not hurt a civilian."

The Familiar rose from the chair, movements seamless and unhurried. He leaned his palms on the table, lowering his chin with a vengeful stare.

"Am I bluffing?" he whispered.

He dropped the proverbial mask from his expression, letting his father, and only his father, peer into the roaring storm of anguish and hatred gusting in his soul. It all had to go somewhere—and he knew Gabriel recognised it.

"Do you know what has happened in your absence? Things have changed. Powers have changed. If I decide Adrien is my target, I'll get the job done."

Gabriel's upper lip curled into a snarl, trembling with unrestrained rage. "Don't you dare!"

The words stung like a slap.

He hadn't been expecting this reaction: the fact that his father still loved him.

The fact that he would lay down any information to protect Adrien.

That the Familiar had, somewhere deep in his heart, known this to be true and instinctively capitalised on it—otherwise, his threat would never have worked. "Five minutes and counting, remember? Start fucking talking."

And the threat did work, because Gabriel caved. How bittersweet that he considered himself the only one allowed to hurt his son.

Guided by endless questions, Gabriel revealed that he and his wife found the Peacock Miraculous already broken. They were in Tibet for their wedding anniversary. When Emelie discovered the power of Emotion, she felt compelled to use it.

The village that hosted them was suffering from poverty and illness. Emelie wanted to help. For starving families, she created senti-livestock, and for dying people she recreated them anew, imparting their own amoks so they could be autonomous beings.

The Familiar initially baulked at the subversion of the rules of nature. "How? How could she do that?"

"How could she tolerate watching babies die?" Gabriel scoffed. "How could she not act when she had the power to prevent tragedy? You did not know my wife." I knew her as well as you.

"She would give up her own life for that of others? Leave her husband and her son behind?"

"We did not know using the Peacock Miraculous would harm her until the damage was already done. By that point, she regretted nothing. She wanted to continue her work."

The Familiar hung his head, blinking against the pinpricks in the corner of his eyes. Sounds like Mom.

Emelie Agreste continued helping others until she fell into her coma, at which point Gabriel reported her missing to the Tibetan authorities. Then he brought her body back to Paris and kept vigil over her in his repository.

"Once word spread of her methods, people travelled from far and wide to beg for help. From one town came a shaman who simply wanted to see her power at work, and he told me of another powerful talisman that had similar powers of Creation. When combined with its destructive counterpart, it could grant any wish to its wielder."

The Miraculous. So that was why Gabriel had hunted them tirelessly: to wish for his wife back.

"I only wanted my family reunited."

Chat Noir clenched his jaw so hard his bone clicked.

He finally understood. Hawk Moth had brainwashed children and attempted murder out of undying love for his wife. The loss had warped him so much that he would rather resurrect the past than endure any future without Emelie.

How was he supposed to feel about that? Was he supposed to pretend like he himself had never wished to reverse time and bring his mother back? If given an opportunity to actualise that...he could understand the temptation, though he would never have hurt anyone to get it.

Except, what was he doing now, in this prison?

God. His father suddenly seemed smaller, sitting in front of him. He was still, maybe foolishly, not a monster in Adrien's head. He was just a weak, broken man; it unfair that a person could be a villain and human at once. The notion fit all wrong, too many complex moving parts with edges like jagged shards of glass.

Why could he not simply love the good guys and hate the bad guys? Every conflicting emotion bled into the next until it all ran black, dousing the Familiar's anger in a nanosecond. It left him feeling utterly empty.

This always happened—after the rush of destruction, he felt worse than ever.

"Where is the Peacock Miraculous now?"

"I don't know." When the Familiar flexed his hand on the table, Gabriel rushed to say, "I truly don't. Nathalie was instructed to stow it in her safe house, but my lawyers informed me that the apartment was recently discovered by Ladybug and searched thoroughly." That was true: they had upturned the place—well, he had—peered into every corner and container and found nothing at all. "If the Miraculous was not recovered inside the closet safe, then neither Nathalie nor I know what happened to it."

"So it was there when Ms. Sancoeur was evading the police? And after her capture, with both of you detained, the Miraculous somehow vanished?"

"Yes."

The Familiar scoffed and drew up a flicker of darkness to his hands, rolling it through his fingers like a ball of inky fire. Gabriel swallowed and stared, transfixed by the new mastery over his Miraculous he'd unlocked.

"I promise I am not lying. I swear." His father shook his head desperately. "On my son's life."

By the time the guards were let back into the room, the Familiar had slipped back into his civil service mask. He was all jokes and smiles, leaning rakishly against the threshold of the door.

"Welcome back, messieurs. With a few seconds to spare, too." He mimed checking an invisible watch on his wrist, and the guards chuckled under their breath—loud enough for his feline hearing to detect it.

Gabriel was sitting as primly in his chair as he had been when they brought him in. They verified that both men were unharmed, and everything was in its rightful place.

Throughout, the Familiar stayed propped against the wall, whistling innocently. He held himself together as he walked back through the damp hallways, out of the administration block, vaulted over a metal railing and gracefully fell five metres to the ground in the street.

Then, in an alleyway, out of sight, he punched the wall until he overcame the protective magic stitched into his quantum suit, until his wrists ached, his knuckles stung and he felt the telltale squelch of blood beneath the fabric. Pain zipped from his hand to his teeth.

Had he not had these months of lessons in restraint, he would have Cataclysmed an entire city block instead of striking mere bricks. But that would have landed him in such shit with Ladybug.

Shit. Ladybug. The Familiar ran his hand over his face, ignoring the pulsing ache in his knuckles, and groaned heavily. Ladybug.

She was going to fucking explode when she found out about this.

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A / N :

i've been very busy with exam season, so thank you for your patience. here is a double update as a treat! 

i want to mention that the scope of this story is, quite frankly, huge. a lot of the minutiae of adrien and marinette's lives aren't written in detail because the A plot is the investigation, and the romance is primarily between ladynoir -- here's some stuff that is left out of the narration but is going on, and would definitely have made its way into a less busy fic:

1) their senior class is steadily getting ready to graduate, marinette is researching parisian universities and schools for fashion design.

2) adrien does go to therapy already, it was touched upon in the days following his move to the hotel. of course, he cannot talk about most of his more pressing issues for obvious identity reasons. but some support is there.

3) adrien and marinette talk pretty frequently as she is trying to keep him included with school work/classmates (but this fic is not adrienette)

4) chloe has been told by her father, who is running for re-election and wants to avoid scandal, not to engage with adrien. that's why she hasn't yet visited his room even though she lives in the same building. watch this space though ;)

& on to the next chapter! (prepare urselves)