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Published:
2020-08-22
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2023-03-09
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Paris Monsieur in Gotham

Chapter 18: Uncovering (Deeper) Secrets

Summary:

The investigation continues......and Dahlia accidentally throws her boyfriends to a pack of wolves.
Oh and Alfred is a BAMF.

Notes:

WARNING: Mentions of suicide up ahead. Read at your own risk.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Red Beetle’s side felt like it was on fire. Every breath he heaved felt as though a million firecrackers were going off inside his ribcage. The others weren’t in any better shape.

Suzaku’s shoulder was dislocated, her sword clutched limply in her other hand; Viperion was walking with a heavy limp, trying to support most of his weight onto his left foot and Amber Ruche had a nasty gash on his head, one of his lenses shattered.

Ignoring the pain, he managed to find it in himself to cast the Miraculous Cure. He closed his eyes and felt the familiar magic embrace him, healing his wounds and cleaning away the bloodstains as though he was never injured in the first place.

He watched apathetically as the cure washed over the streets of Paris.

As it washed over the bodies of innocents who were caught in the fire.

Amber Ruche just slumped down onto the ground on the spot.

“Fu$k this, we’re supposed to be on bloody vacation right now.” He groaned.

“That was definitely one of the tougher ones.” Viperion said, tapping his foot against the ground, not a single ache throbbing.

“And it certainly won’t be the last.” Suzaku said grimly. “Do you know when help is coming?” she asked Red Beetle.

“Soon.” He reassured them. “We just have to hold out a little while longer.”

They could do this, they had to.

Just a little while longer and help will arrive.

Just a little while longer…until they can finally end this nightmare.

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

Marcel groaned and collapsed face-first onto his bed. Although the sun had been up and shining in Paris, due to time zones, it was still night time in Gotham.

It was 2: 35 AM in the morning to be precise.

He sighed, mentally steeling himself for what was bound to come. No doubt this was the first of many other continuous attacks to come which means consistent nights in which he went on without sufficient amount of sleep.

He vaguely recalled that tomorrow- well, technically today actually, Mme. Bustier had planned some kind of ‘class bonding’ activity. Basically they were gonna do yoga and aerobics in Gotham Park.

Yeah, no. His body was so exhausted he doubts he could stretch much less keep up with the pace of aerobics.

Screw it, he’ll just call in and say he’s sick or something. Chris would probably do the same.

Right now? Sleep. He was going to get some goddamn sleep.

Forcing his tired body to get up, he stumbled over towards the kitchenette and prepared some hot water. Tikki- the sweet blessing of support- whizzed into his luggage to grab what he needed while Kaalki grabbed a mug and teaspoon.

“Thanks guys.” Marcel muttered.

Tikki handed him a small tea packet and a herb capsule. Stirring the tea, he took a long slow drink, letting the warm liquid flow down his throat and settle in his stomach.

Satisfied, he popped the capsule into his mouth, his taste buds long since used to whatever weird taste it might carry, and swallowed it.

Downing the last of his tea, he felt his eyelids grow heavy as the ‘potion’ took effect. His mind was clear, free from worries but very, very lethargic.

He felt his body land on his bed just as the potion’s effects fully kicked in.

He slept like the dead.

 


 

Nightwing winced as Robin’s foot connected with the poor guy’s jaw before another slammed into his cheek. Yup, definitely a dislocated jaw and fractured cheekbone.

After the spat she and Supergirl had with Chat Noir, the Bat Family decided that true to Robin’s words they had to look out for Marcel. They did it for a good few number of valid reasons.

Reason one- he was a crucial source of information. He was more than a witness or another civilian standby, he was a piece of the jigsaw puzzle they needed to complete in order to bring down Hawkmoth’s jenga tower.

Reason two- Chat Noir was unpredictable and dangerous. The fact that she’s shown her hand not once, not twice but thrice now already raises a lot of red flags. Didn’t help that she tried to disintegrate Joan.

Reason three- Robin gave her word.

And reason three was pretty prominent in the present.

Even if the rest of them didn’t chip in, they all knew Robin wouldn’t hesitate to go on a one-girl mission to protect Marcel with her own two hands. The girl would stay up all night, 24/7 every day, 7 days a week to keep an eagle eye’s surveillance and ensure her boyfriend’s safety.

Even after they agreed to systematically take watch, Robin pretty much tried to fill in as many slots as possible, pulling out all the stops in terms of ‘reasons’ which were really excuses.

Needless to say, Batman got worried. Yeah, protectiveness is a good motivator and all but all of them would be lying if they said they weren’t worried that Robin’s emotions might get the better of her, clouding her judgment and causing her to make an error.

And errors lead to consequences. Consequences lead to potential hurt. Potential hurt led to fatal ends.

So…..yeah.

To say she was pissed was an understatement. But Batman had put his foot down and told her that tonight, she would go on standard patrol to clear her head.

And of course, being the bleeding heart big brother he was, he opened his big mouth and said he’d go on patrol with her.

Deciding she’s released enough steam on the same targets, Nightwing stepped in. She’s already caused enough injuries to put these guys in the hospital, wrapped up like a mummy for weeks. This has gone far enough.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he said, grabbing her hand. “Time out.”

She glared at him but he didn’t back down.

“Robin, that’s enough.” He said sternly, a tone he rarely ever uses even as Nightwing.

“…..tt.” she clicked, wrenching her hand out of his grip.

Their comms went off. Nightwing thanked whatever deity gave them such good timing intervention.

“Batgirl here.” They heard the voice with the undertone of a yawn.

“Anything to report?” Nightwing asked.

“Just saw him wake up. He went to grab some kinda drink then practically passed out. He’s sleeping like the dead right now.” Batgirl reported.

Robin’s head snapped up, her body tensing and oh crap, Nightwing can see the gears turning in her head.

“What if the drink was spiked?” she rationalized in assassin fashion.

“What if he was just really tired?” Nightwing offered logically.

“Maybe he has sleeping problems too. For all we know, he could’ve just have taken his medication.” Batgirl supplied rationally.

Robin frowned, evidently unconvinced. Turning around, she wordlessly took her grappler out.

“Where are you going?” Nightwing asked.

“Batgirl’s shift is over. It’s my turn now.” Robin said. She glared at him, daring him to stop her.

Nightwing put his hands up in surrender, knowing full well he shouldn’t get in her way. Good.

She landed on the rooftop, senses alert, eyes sharply gazing every shadow. A gust blew past, fluttering her cape. Moments like these, she’s glad she has a hood pulled over her head.

Taking out her binoculars, she zoomed in and was relieved to see that true to Batgirl’s earlier report, Marcel was in fact soundly asleep on his bed. Judging by his position, he went unconscious long before he could properly tuck himself in.

She bit her lip, wishing she could just slip inside and do just that. She shook her head, instantly dispelling such thoughts from her mind.

No, she was here to protect him. As a hero, friend, girlfriend, confidant and guardian. She cannot fail. 

Pulling up her wrist computer, she easily hacked into the hotel’s security system and gained access to the live feed. Nothing out of the ordinary-

Wait.

Her eyes narrowed as one of the doors slowly opened and an ombre-haired girl stepped out.

Alya Césaire, creator of the LadyBlog.

Robin scoffed, rolling her eyes at the mere thought of that pathetic tabloid. She frowned, wondering what trouble this foolish blind sheep planned on stirring.

Alarm bells went off when she realized Alya was going upstairs, heading towards Marcel’s room. The girl was smart enough to wear a hoodie in an attempt to hide her face but Robin wasn’t fooled.

Alya crouched down in front of Marcel’s door, taking out a card-

Shit.

Shit.

She fired her grappler just as the door unlocked itself.

Alya slowly nudged it open and peeked inside.

Nothing. Not a peep.

Slipping inside, she shut the door and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Sure enough, she could make out Marcel’s form, lying down out cold.

She smirked. The boy was such a heavy sleeper. Doing this would be like stealing candy from a baby.

Tiptoeing around, she went over to the desk and found his sketchbook lying right there in the open. Her smirk grew. This was too easy.

Grabbing the sketchbook, she walked over towards his luggage. If luck was on her side, it’d no doubt be open-

She released a cry of surprise as someone tackled her from behind and shoved her face down into the ground. She hissed as her arm was painfully locked behind her.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” a voice growled near her ear, a hand wrapped around the back of her neck.

She tensed and slowly, slowly turned around-

Only to see white lenses belonging to a green domino mask glaring at her.

“Wha-get off me, I’m not a burglar, I swear!” Alya yelped, squirming in an attempt to escape the lock but Robin’s grip was as tight as a python.

“Shut up, you thief.” Robin snarled. “I saw you breaking into his room and I saw you take his sketchbook.”

“So? It’s just a stupid-” a cry of pain cut her off as Robin twisted her arm further, her joints protesting.

There was a groan, causing them both to freeze.

Whipping her head around, she watched as Marcel slowly woke up. He sounded groggy, his movements sluggish. If anything, he seemed totally unaware of the dilemma he was in the middle of.

“Whazz goin’ on?” he mumbled.

“Marcel.” Robin said with a small nod in greeting as though this was totally normal.

At that, his head snapped up and his bluebell eyes widened to comically big size.

“Robin?!” he stuttered.

Stumbling over, he hit the light switch. Blinking the spots from his eyes, he took in the scene before him.

Robin was there.

She was pinning Alya down.

Alya who was trapped suspiciously close to where his sketchbook was lying on the ground-

Wait……………what the hell?!

“What the hell are you two doing in my room at 3 AM in the morning?!” he snapped.

“Ask her.” Robin said, nodding towards Alya. “She broke into your room and tried to steal your personal possessions.”

“I wasn’t going to steal them! As if I’d want any of that cheap junk of his. It was just a harmless prank to get back at the jerk.” Alya growled.

“For what?” they both asked.

“Don’t play dumb, you bully! You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t see Adrianne cry cuz of you.” Alya hissed accusatory.

“Wha-I-I-she-” Marcel…didn’t know what to say.

He tried to ignore the voice in the corner of his mind that pointed out he did technically make Adrianne cry. Even if it was for a valid reason, the fact remained that he was the one who made her cry.

“You’re not even trying to deny it.” Alya said with a smug sneer.

“You’re not denying the fact that you’re committing a juvenile act either.” Robin snapped. “I wonder how your viewers on your precious blog will feel if they find out about the creator’s unsavoury deeds.”

“How do you know about that?” Alya spluttered.

“I’m Robin.” She deadpanned.

Was this what father felt like when he always said ‘I’m Batman’?

“It’s too early for this $hit.” Marcel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose while trying to fight off the headache. He took a goddamn potion, damn it he’s not supposed to be awake while it’s still in his system.

“Wait, why are you here?” he asked Robin directly.

“Doing my job. Putting criminals in their place.” She replied evenly.

“I’m not a criminal!” Alya snapped.

“And I don’t care.” Robin shot back.

“This is assault! You’re harming an innocent civilian! I’ll call the cops!” Alya threatened.

“Go ahead. Save us the trouble and turn yourself in too.” Robin sniffed. Even if she kept her end of the threat, Robin doubts the commissioner will let it slide.

“Forget it.” Marcel sighed, looking very tired and very done with all this. His expression was uncannily similar to Drake’s now when he’s just woke up without his mandatory morning coffee.

“Just leave, Alya.” He said.

Said girl stared at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped, clearly not expecting this. Then her face hardened and she glared him, mouth opening to continue her verbal assault.

“You heard him.” Robin said, hauling her up and kicking her out with vindictive vigour. “Leave and if I see your face again, I’ll personally see to it that you don’t have one after I’m through with you.”

Not wanting to risk Robin’s wrath, Alya scampered off.

“……….is this the part where I realize this is all just a dream?” Marcel asked dryly, placing his face in his hand, looking utterly done with every piece of crap the universe keeps handing him.

“I wish.” Robin said.

“Thanks.” He said anyways. “And thanks again for last night too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She stiffly said.

“It’s okay, I know what Chat did.” Marcel said. “I also know I’ve got a guardian angel watching my back.” He winked at her.

She blushed and looked away.

“Guilty as charged.” She admitted.

“So now you’ve assigned yourself my personal bodyguard?” he asked.

“Not just me, the whole family. It’s clear that Chat Noir is dangerous, unpredictable and an active threat. Precautions must be taken.” She said professionally.

At that, Marcel’s face dropped into one of worry.

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” he asked.

“Why are you so concerned for her? Hasn’t she been harassing you?” Robin asked, internally bristling over the fact that Marcel was actually defending that insufferable backstabbing blonde

“…..guess you can say that’s one of my flaws.” He said, shrugging. “I guess…even now I can’t help but see her as a friend, even after the $hit show that went down this morning.” He chuckled bitterly, devoid of humour.

“…..do you…want to talk about it?” Robin asked carefully.

Marcel shrugged. Maybe it was the potion but fu$k it, he really couldn’t give two $hits about it anymore. Exhaustion and sleep deprivation does that to you.

“Might as well sit down. It’s a long story.” He said, patting the area beside him in invitation.

Robin walked over and sat down, making sure there was a respectful distance between them even though she yearned to close the gap and place her hand over his, to snuggle beside him like how they cuddled on the couch that day.

“……..you know that the cure brings back the dead, right?” Marcel began quietly.

Robin nodded.

“Well, you see…..” he swallowed. “Thing is, it only works if it’s done in a certain timeframe. Like, someone can’t be dead for more than a day or so otherwise there’s no guarantee they can come back risk-free, yo-you know?”

Robin nodded again.

“And well……there’s Chat and she……” he closed his eyes, releasing a long breath through his nose. “God, she’s such an idiote.”

“Has she bothered you again?” Robin asked, managing to tone her furious scowl to a milder frown of concern.

“You know the saying cats have nine lives? Well that saying’s a load of crap. Chat she…….she’s died before.” He croaked out.

“But she’s still alive.” Robin pointed out. ‘Unfortunately.’ Not that she’d ever say that out loud in front of Marcel.

“Like I said, the cure brought her back but……” Marcel released a shaky sigh, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to fight back the tears and nausea.

“She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember dying a-and she keeps throwing herself head first into a fight with no regard for her life, bloody hell, she keeps thinking this is all some goddamn game!” he snapped, pulling his hair.

Maybe it was the lingering stress from the earlier akuma battle; maybe it was the potion still in his systems; maybe he was just sick and tired of Alya constantly going to such lengths for such petty reasons; maybe he was just exhausted and tired of it all.

“Do you know what it’s like to have to see her die again and again? The worst part is that she didn’t even know, she knew nothing about it all, she knew nothing about just how far the damage had gone at this point. She had no idea that while she was sl-slacking on the job and goofing around, innocent people were dying. She was ignorant to the fact that she’s fu$king died more than nine times and-and-” he got no further as his breath hitched, a choked sob coming out instead.

“Hey, hey, shh…..” Robin hushed gently, leaning forward to rub soothing circles on his back. “It’s not your fault.”

“Fu$k Hawkmoth.” Marcel spat. “Fu$k akumas, fu$k it all , just…..I’m tired.” He sobbed. “I’m just so tired……….”

He blinked when he felt his face pressing against a black fabric, realizing through the haze of emotions and exhaustion that it was Robin’s cape.

“I know, Marcel, I know.” Robin whispered empathetically, gently stroking his hair. “You fight and fight, you keep fighting even if you can’t see through all the fog when the next punch will be thrown. You keep going even if you don’t know if there’ll be anything left when the fog lifts. I know how that feels……and I know how hard it must be to keep fighting anyways.”

Marcel said nothing, he just buried his face in her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m here to protect you, Marcel. I’m here to help you. I am your guardian and your confidant, don’t ever forget that, okay?” she said.

He nodded.

Finally, he pushed away from her, smiling a wet smile.

“Thanks, Rob.” He said. “But as nice as your company is, it’s already like….” He checked the time. “4 AM or something and I……” he yawned.

Man, now that he was emotionally drained, it seemed the potion lingered in his systems enough to still have effect.

Robin nodded.

“G’night, Rob.” Marcel mumbled, sleepily pulling the blankets over him.

“Goodnight, Marcel.” She whispered, turning the lights off for him.

Marcel was out like a light the moment he touched the pillow.

 


 

“Have you found anything useful, Maya?” Dahlia asked.

Currently she was in her room, sitting on her chair and desk wearing sweatpants and a sweater but with her crossed legs and steepled fingers, she looked every bit the professional intense businesswoman she would no doubt be eventually.

“Nice to see you too, D.” Maya huffed. “To answer your question though, yeah. I found something….and it ain’t pretty.”

“Let’s hear it.” She said.

“Well-”

Before she could begin, her door burst open, hitting the wall to reveal a haggard Tim.

“Hell’s teeth Drake, do you not know how to-” Dahlia turned around, ready to give her brother a piece of her mind when he interrupted her.

“Suicide.” He said. “That girl….she’s a fu$king monster.” He shook his head.

“Suicide?” Dahlia said, voice horrified as the unsavoury word registered. “Are you telling me…..”

In reply, Tim walked over to her desk and placed his laptop on. Typing a few keys, he opened numerous tabs.

The first one depicted a 13 year old girl who committed suicide 4 years ago. Her name was Abriana Belle.

“Abriana Belle, 13 years old; ballet prodigy and sweetheart of her school, loved by all.” Tim explained. “Look at this.” He brought up a medical file. It mentioned a twisted ankle, a sprained ankle, a fractured tibia and even a fractured kneecap.

“The first one occurred during a show, another during an audition and the last two in an ‘accident’. Coincidentally, our Italian associate was in the same school as her back then.” He explained.

Instantly, the pieces clicked.

“That b!tch.” Dahlia hissed.

“Yeah….and that’s only the first.” He brought up another tab, this one depicting another 13 year old in the same year six months later.

Bianca Eleonara. From what Dahlia could see on the tab, she was an average student with average grades and standard accomplishments for a girl her age.

She jumped off the roof of her school another six months later.

“According to the suicide note, she committed suicide due to mass bullying and social isolation from her peers.” Tim said. “Sound familiar?”

Dahlia took a breath through her teeth. It sounded too familiar.

She gripped the armrest of her chair, trying not to picture Marcel being the one to one day throw himself off the roof of a building or a bridge.

“And this is only the beginning.” Tim said grimly.

Antonio Bosco, 14 years old; a Science prodigy who was caught up in a lab accident that scarred his face and right arm horribly. After that, the same pattern followed- bullying, ostracizing, shunning and eventually, suicide.

Four months later and another followed- Carlo Cedro, also 14 years old; a young champion horse rider who was steadily making his way to nationals. Unfortunately, he fell off his horse due the strap of his saddle suddenly snapping. He fell on top of a rock which damaged his spine, paralyzing him.

That hit Dahlia and Tim close to home, considering what happened to…Barbara…….

The poor boy was devastated, gradually falling into depression after that. And then a few months later…..his parents found out that he’d hung himself using the same leather straps that were meant for his saddle.

For a while, the two of them just sat there, processing all this. Processing the fact that all these people- all these children had taken their own lives all because of one girl who had been the same age as them back them, oh god-

“Four people…..” Dahlia said, her hands clenching into fist. “She was just a child, and she’s already killed four people…..”

Dahlia knew she wasn’t one to talk. After all, she knew how to kill a man long before she knew how to do basic cooking. But she was different- she had been borned and bred to be a killer back then.

But this girl? What excuse did she have? She was borned a normal privileged girl with normal parents and grew up with a normal childhood, what excuse did she have to commit such heinous acts?

“It all adds up. Lila had attended all their schools and not too long after their suicides, she just up and left. If that’s coincidence then I’m a duck.” Tim said.

“Have you shown this to father?” Dahlia asked, her voice icily sharp.

“First person I showed to before you.” He confirmed.

“This girl’s not a criminal, she’s a monster.” Dahlia spat.

“A monster that’s going into a very deep grave.” Tim agreed.

“That’s one grave I’ll gladly dance over with Todd.” She said.

Hearing a throat clear, it was then Dahlia realized that Maya had been listening in this whole time.

“Mind if I add in my own two cents?” she asked.

“Wait, who’s she?” Tim asked.

“An associate of mine.” Dahlia said coolly.

“Now that pleasantries are out of the way, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I had to snoop around and call in a few favours but I’ve got some deeper dirt on this girl.

“Turns out, her mother isn’t as ignorant as we thought. She brought her girl for a diagnosis and the results say she has antisocial disorder.” Maya revealed.

“So you’re basically telling us she’s a psychopath.” Dahlia deadpanned.

That made sense, honestly. Lila’s clear disregard for right and wrong; the persistent lying, deceit and manipulation; violating the rights of others through intimidation and dishonesty; her lack of empathy and remorse and her entire being in general screamed psychopath.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Maya said.

“Then why the hell is she not getting any help? I mean, shouldn’t she be in rehabilitation or juvie?” Dahlia asked.

“There’s lingering mentions of the occasional therapy sessions and a long trail of money- probably to cover up the whole thing. She must’ve managed to find a way to weasel out of it either through more manipulation or maybe her mom just bribed the professionals to save face, or her diplomatic immunity played a hand in it.” Maya said.

“Man, even if this girl wasn’t willingly working with a terrorist, all this $hit she’s done can land her a sentence behind bars anyway. Plus, by next year she’ll be an adult by then so the full weight of the law can come down on her.” Tim pointed out.

“The day I personally crush her underfoot cannot come soon enough.” Dahlia sniffed.

“The day you pay me for helping you do this errand cannot come soon enough.” Maya snarked. “Did I have to go through the Ladyblog too? That crap was pure torture to my eyes.” She bemoaned.

“Oh hush, I’m paying you for your execution of action not your verbal complaints.” Dahlia snapped. “Did you deliver all the packages like I asked?”

“Every single one down to the T.” Maya confirmed.

“What did you do?” Tim asked warily.

Dahlia just grinned.

Well crap, if there’s anything worse than a glaring Dahlia, it was a grinning Dahlia.

Tim just hopes he won’t have to help hide a body.

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

Alya screeched in frustration as her phone was practically drowned in spam.

Appending, image spam, blank spam, backscatter spam, advertisements, video games, online shopping websites, bitcoin- her phone was practically catatonic!

As if to rub salt into the wound, there was not one, but two frickin viruses in her phone now, deleting the latest footage she had put together from other websites of Red Beetle’s most recent akuma battle! How is she going to satisfy her viewers and keep the traffic in her blog flowing without that?!

Nothing was working, she can’t even shut her phone off to restart it, everything kept lagging-

With a yell of frustration she threw her phone towards a wall, cracking the screen. As it fell down, the cover broke into two as well.

Instantly, the haze of anger washed away and she stared, eyes wide and mouth open as her precious phone laid on the floor, damaged further now. Merde, what if she just damaged the battery or worse, the memory card and all the footage she’s accumulated, all the footage she’s passionately filmed and painstakingly edited is gone?!

This time, the yell of anguish and anger she released was enough to momentarily make Marcel snort awake before falling asleep again.

 


 

Bruce frowned, his finger tapping the surface of the console as he reviewed the information he managed to dig up so far regarding Gabriel Agreste.

So far the only three aspects he managed to uncover that were to take note of was one, the purchase of tickets to Tibet a few years ago; two, his wife’s mysterious disappearance who was now labelled as deceased and three, his personal assistant’s gradually ailing health.

The first aspect and the second were connected- for Gabriel had returned from that very same Tibet trip without his wife. The reason as to why they even went there in the first place still remained unknown.

While Bruce himself had gone there during his earlier years to study and ingrain one of many skills Tibet had to offer, he couldn’t recall any of the monks or other brief associates mentioning the Agrestes.

Then again, there was also a chance that they simply showed up long after he left. And even if they did and said associates/monks wanted to notify him of new arrivals they didn’t exactly have email.

Naturally an investigation was launched following Emilie’s disappearance but it was soon brushed under as a cold case. And thus, Gabriel dropped out of public eye and became even more of a recluse, sheltering him and his daughter.

The third aspect was something trickier. According to his personal assistant’s- Nathalie Sancouer- medical history, the woman had a clean bill of health until three years ago.

According to the data, she’s had to take sleeping pills and numerous other medication lately and judging by the records and quantity, her condition is worsening.

Perhaps it had something to do with the miraculous she wielded? She was most probably Mayura after all so it’d make sense. And for all that power a miraculous can provide you didn’t need to be a wizard to know something like that always has a price.

Did all miraculous give the wielder this form of backlash or was the Peacock Miraculous an exception? Perhaps it was broken or tainted with a curse of sorts?

He noted a presence nearby. Turning around, he saw Alfred approach sullenly which was a surprise. More often than not, Alfred would approach with a dry or witty line in hand to announce his presence.

He instantly noticed that something was wrong with his surrogate father. He looked older than ever, lines he didn’t notice before seemingly marring his already old face as he carried an invisible burden.

“Sir, pardon my bold audacity but it is urgent we hold a meeting regarding the miraculous case we are taking on immediately. It is prudent as I have information to share….information I should have told a long time ago.” The British butler said, tone even and controlled but his eyes…..

His eyes were a whirlwind of emotions that threw even Bruce off axis.

“Sure, Alfred.” Bruce said softly.

And that was how he found himself sitting in the living room for a family meeting with his adopted children. He noticed Tim and Dahlia looking antsy themselves, the latter looking ready to maim someone.

God forbid she actually does that.

Alfred placed his signature mandatory tea set down. Once everyone got their cup, Alfred cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

The clinking of teaspoons stirring paused; the sipping of tea was swallowed and teacups were placed down onto a saucer.

All eyes were on their faithful butler with rapt attention.

“There is something I must confess.” Alfred began. “I said nothing for I had taken a vow to never look back on that chapter of my life but with the turn of recent events, I realize it was foolish of me to do so.”

“No hard feelings, Alfie. We’ve all screwed up the pooch at some point.” Dick said.

“Your condolences are appreciated, Master Dick.” Alfred said, giving him a small smile before it was wiped off.

“I was once a miraculous holder.”

Silence…….

It stretched and stretched like taffy but as taut as a bowstring, waiting to snap-

It snapped.

“SHUT THE FU-” Alfred glared at Jason. “Front door.” The boy hastily amended.

“You were a miraculous holder?” Tim asked, voice tinged in awe.

“You ran around dressed as a magical furry?” Jason asked.

“Jason!” Stephanie and Tim scolded while Dick couldn’t help but snicker despite the bomb having just detonated.

“What?” Jason asked, spreading his hands out in a guileless gesture.

“Insects are not furries, Todd.” Dahlia deadpanned.

“Since when? For how long?” Bruce asked, as usual ignoring the chaotic bundles known as his children and focusing on the main task at hand.

“During the war.” Alfred said, his old eyes gaining a faraway look as he stared off into the distance. All of a sudden he wasn’t in the manor, he was back on the warzone, bearing a piece of jewellery carrying the weight of the world with him.

“It was brief, mind you. I only wielded it a handful of times. Miraculous are only meant to be employed to wielders under extremely dire circumstances. I was one of those to be chosen to do as such.

“I wielded the same miraculous one of the fiends of Paris wield now- the Peacock Miraculous.” His heart panged as he was reminded of how the precious miraculous was now being abused in such heinous ways.

“So you were an animal-themed hero yourself back in the day? No wonder you were cool with Bruce’s bat theme.” Jason mused aloud.

“The kwami of that miraculous was Duusu.” Alfred said softly, the fondness he held for said kwami evident. “He was the Kwami of Emotion, needless to say that title alone already speaks volumes of his personality.”

“What happened to him and his miraculous?” Stephanie asked.

At that, Alfred’s face dropped.

“I wielded it one last time before surrendering it. Duusu was a close companion in the short time we’ve known each other and while I did want to contribute with all my heart on the battlefield, I knew I wasn’t meant to do so like this.

“I didn’t trust myself as a worthy wielder. I didn’t trust the times, much less the people I was surrounded with. I couldn’t bear the thought of Duusu potentially getting harmed or worse, stolen and abused so I gave him back.”

Alfred shook his head sadly. “But it doesn’t matter now it seems. For right now as we speak, Duusu’s powers are being abused either ways.” He said sadly.

All members of the Bat Family’s hearts went out to Alfred. Their surrogate father/grandfather looked so heartbroken, so devastated over the loss of a close friend of his, it felt like a knife was being stabbed and twisted in their hearts though no doubt the pain doubled for the British butler himself.

“Thank you for sharing this with us, old friend.” Bruce said softly, his stoic mask finally cracking to show the sincerity he’s always possessed within.

“Thank you for bearing no ill will towards me despite my secret.” Alfred said.

“We all have skeletons in our closet, Alfie.” Jason said, his tone softer.

“Rest assured we will be what must be done to save Duusu as well.” Dahlia said.

Cassandra nodded. “We will help and do what we can.” She said, a pretty long sentence by her standards.

“Soooo what was it like?” Dick couldn’t help but ask. “Y’know, wielding a magical jewellery with superpowers and all that. Didja do a transformation sequence of some kind?”

“What, you mean like Power Rangers?” Tim snorted.

“Exactly.” Dick said shamelessly.

“Childish.” Dahlia sniffed.

“Says the girl who still plays Cheese Viking on the Batcomputer.” Tim mumbled.

Half a second later, Dick and Stephanie were trying to stop Dahlia from gouging Tim’s eyes out with a teaspoon while Jason cheered and hollered on the sidelines. Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as shenanigans collapsed all around him.

And Alfred?

He calmly gathered the tea set that still remained intact and brought it back to the kitchen.

At least the teaspoon Dahlia wielded wasn’t an authentic antique this time. Heaven knows he doesn't need the girl's grandmother rolling in her grave more than she already has.

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

“Are you done?” Bruce drawled, arms crossed as he watched Dahlia finally put the teaspoon down, a haggard Dick still clutching her waist lest she snap again while Stephanie coerced Tim to put down the throw pillow and the remote and come out from behind the couch.

Dahlia grunted while Tim gave a thumbs up.

“Good because now it’s my turn.” He said.

“Another one?” Jason groaned.

Cassandra elbowed him in the ribs.

“Dahlia.” He beckoned.

Dahlia approached him and took in the appearance of the letter he held out before her. The quality of the paper was as authentic and fine as parchment, the wax seal adding the usual Wayne flair to it with their family logo embedded in the blob of hardened wax.

“What’s this?” she asked, not taking it just yet.

“An invitation. I think it’s time we met your boyfriend.” Bruce said.

At that, everyone’s backs straightened. Jason and Tim looked alert and awake, the former barely restraining a grin. Stephanie and Cassandra were leaning forward eagerly. Although the latter’s face was stoic compared to the former’s, there was no denying the twinkle of anticipation in her eyes. Dick was just full out grinning his proudest brightest big brother grin.

“You want to meet Marcel in person.” Dahlia said slowly.

Bruce nodded.

“As Bruce Wayne.” She added.

Her father just rose a brow, no doubt wondering why she was even beating around the bush for once.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s going to be my future son-in-law.” Bruce said seriously.

Dick, Jason, Stephanie and Tim oohed at that. Dahlia shot them all a glare and though it silenced them it did little to deter their grins.

“Why the hesitation kitten?” a voice purred.

Everyone startled, they all turned to see Selina casually leaning against the doorframe with a Cheshire grin playing on her face.

“How long have you been there, waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance?” Dahlia deadpanned.

“You know we all have a flair for dramatics.” She said with a shrug. “You still didn’t answer my question though.”

Dahlia raised her chin up high. “Bold of you to assume I was hesitating out of fear.” She said haughtily as she all but snatched the envelope out of her father’s grip.

“About time!” Jason said, leaning forward with a grin, a glint in his eye that reminded Dahlia of a wolf finally finding a suitable prey………

All of her siblings were grinning now. They were grinning and their eyes were glinting in a way that was very worrying and unsettling. She could practically see the gears spinning like buzzsaws in their thick skulls.

……..fu$k.

She looked down at the envelope in her hand. The piece of paper felt as heavy as iron and burned in her grip.

…..she just threw her own boyfriend to the wolves, didn’t she?

 


 

“Ah-choo!” Marcel sneezed.

“You alright, Marcel?” Tikki asked worriedly.

Marcel sniffed and wiped his nose. “Fine Tikki.” He said before continuing to sew Dahlia’s outfit.

“……wonder who's talking about me.” He muttered to no one in particular.

Notes:

As much as I enjoy writing this fic, I don't wanna bore y'all with one filler after the next (even if some are important for the storyline or has much needed fluff in it) so yes, it's time our boi met the family out of costume!
I also like how in Daminette/Maribat fics, Alfred is said to have once been the wielder of the Peacock Miraculous. I'm sorry but I just couldn't resist using that concept AND for good reason (can't say anymore, SPOILERS)
In the fandom.wiki, Lila's trivia actually states that she has a classic case of antisocial personality disorder. Thus, I decided to note that down too. But that doesn't change my opinion on her- I HATE her, simple as that and everything she's done deserves major karma. In my opinion, this just solidifies my dislike for her.
So maybe I don't want her to die for that's too far (and still too merciful in my opinion) but I do want her to know that in the end, she's just another delusional grandeur fake who isn't even worthy of being disliked. That's just how insignificant she is.
That is all, sorry for the rant, I couldn't help myself. Stay tune for next time!