Work Text:
When the clock strikes seven o'clock, Nathalie is at his door. She stands there with her tablet, staring him down until he stumbles out of bed. Then she walks out of the room, head held high, not a word being said.
He rushes into the dining room, nearly slipping in his socks, and hopes that he won’t be the only one sitting at that long table this morning.
He halters suddenly.
Gabriel sits there, poised and proper, awaiting his son’s arrival. Adrien attempts to stifle his shock.
With more exuberance, he makes his way over to his seat. He tries to hide his smile, but it’s useless. A grin spreads from ear to ear; he’s sure it looks foolish.
His father clears his throat.
“What are you wearing?”
It’s a question that sounds almost accusatory, coupled with cold eyes and pursed lips.
“Pajamas, father. I just woke up.”
He sniffs, “Agrestes are up by six o’clock in the morning. No later, do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” he lowers his head in shame.
Silence fills the empty space; the space that is normally emptier than it is currently. The addition of more body heat has not gone unnoticed by Adrien. However, his nerves prevent him from making a comment on the room temperature.
Having someone eat breakfast with him is rare. Having that ‘someone’ be his reclusive father, is even rarer. The last thing he wants to do is cut this precious moment short.
Even if no words are said, or if the words that are spoken are harsh, he appreciates not being alone. He appreciates his father’s presence, because he is taking time out of his busy day to spend time with him.
These are the days where he loves his father more than anything. These are the days that make his life brighter and filled to the brim with love. These are the days that he loves being alive.
“Son,” Gabriel says. “I need you to tell me something.”
“Yes, father?”
The man’s cold eyes start to turn warmer.
“Do you miss your mother?”
His heart skips a beat. “I-I… Of course I do. She’s my mother, I’ll always miss her.”
“Me too, Adrien. Me too…”
Gabriel’s tone changes slightly. To the naked ear, it would appear sadder… more somber. Almost loving.
But then those warm eyes turn scorching hot, until he can barely breathe. They stare into him, causing a raging fire right in his soul. It boils him alive. It holds him hostage for much longer than he would have wanted. He can almost smell smoke, and he has to look away.
“That’s why I need your help.”
“With what, father?” He asks, his voice trembling.
“We’re bringing your mother back. I’m doing it for you.”
He swallows uncomfortably.
“For me?"
“Yes. You must understand that I love you very much. I know it has been very hard for you, not having her around, and I want her to be there for you again.”
Gabriel’s cryptic words bring no sense of comfort to him, so he takes a deep breath. He squeezes his eyes shut, praying that this is all some twisted dream, but he is disappointed when they open again.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
His lips curve into a sick smile.
“Let’s take a walk, son. You’ll understand soon enough.”
Adrien wishes he were asleep. He wishes this were some twisted dream.
But it’s not.
His mother’s lifeless body lays in front of him, in an underground garden and a magical casket that keeps her in a comatose state. White butterflies flutter around the room. There’s some kind of metaphor there; some sense he can make out of this, but he can’t bring himself to.
He looks over at his father, standing proudly at his mother’s side. His hands are behind his back, mouth curved into a smirk, staring down at the one thing he chooses to sacrifice lives for. To sacrifice Paris.
Adrien stares. He stares at him, scrutinizing every detail he possibly can until he decides that he’s sick of looking at that monster. When he looks away, he has to blink back the tears in his eyes.
The one light in his life was actually a fire burning all around him.
And he doesn’t know how to tell his Lady that he’s done being a first responder.