A/N: Written for taliaxlatia (gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights) on tumblr, this is an expansion of one of my three sentence fics that I have posted there. This is set after Miracle Queen, so there are spoilers for the end of season 3.

"Your mom has to go away again," André told his sniffing daughter as he sat down beside her on her bed, "but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. We both love you, and I'll always be here for you, I promise."

Chloé turned her tear-stained face towards him, lower lip trembling, and sobbed, "I'm never going to be enough for her, am I?"

"Don't say that, princess." He reached an arm around her and was relieved when she leaned into him instead of shrugging away. "Your mother has never liked to be pinned down in one place. She wants to travel, to see all the fashions of the world and make them her own."

"But I could go with her," came Chloé's small, broken voice. "We could…we could both go, couldn't we? As a family. So we can be together. Like…like families are supposed to be."

"We will still be a family even if we have to be apart." He knew it was hard. Nom de Dieu, but it was hard on him, too. He never wanted Audrey to leave, not really. Certainly not for as long as she did when he knew she had to go, but she wouldn't stay, and she refused to cut her trips short. Not even for Chloé's sake.

However much he might try to be there for Chloé, she needed her mother. He wasn't enough for her. He couldn't give her what she needed most. What she wanted.

Money couldn't buy her happiness when all she truly wanted was to be acknowledged and openly loved by her mother.

"It doesn't feel like it."

"I know. It's hard. Sometimes, we have to let people go because we love them. With your mother, it's not forever. We can count the days together till she'll be back."

"She'll delay. She always does."

He couldn't very well argue that point. The only time Audrey hadn't put off a return trip was the last time Gabriel Agreste had extended her a personal invitation to his fashion show.

"And I know why she's leaving this time, anyway." There was a catch in Chloé's voice that she couldn't hide. "It's…it's because of me. Because of what I did. Because I messed up. She would have started planning her trip the moment she found out what happened." That wasn't entirely untrue—Audrey had changed her mind about staying more quickly than he'd anticipated—but the truth was, she was always planning her next trip. "It's why she won't take me with her, too. Everyone in the city hates me, especially Ladybug and Chat Noir, and she doesn't…she doesn't want me to ruin her reputation!"

"Shh, shh, that's not true, you know that's not true," André said, but Chloé was sobbing again. He handed her another tissue—he'd carefully folded half a dozen or so into his pocket before coming in here, knowing where this conversation would lead—and she blew her nose before tossing the sodden tissue to the floor with the others. He'd have to get the cleaning staff in here once he could convince her to leave her room, but she hadn't left in days.

She would have been mortified to learn what had happened, to hear of everything she'd done. He knew his little girl; she could have been coaxed into agreement easily if Hawk Moth had promised her a means to get what she wanted, and he must have done just that. It was her soft spot, the chink in her armour. She tried to build a wall between herself and everyone else, but it wasn't enough to protect herself.

André himself didn't know everything that had happened. Chloé refused to talk about the situation, and the few clips shown on the news or posted to the Ladyblog had been taken primarily from security camera footage. That hardly told the whole story, but it was enough convince Chloé that everyone was against her. She had a better idea of how everything had transpired than the rest of them did, of course; he was lucky to even know she'd had a conversation with Ladybug afterwards. There were certainly no reports of that anywhere, and Chloé hadn't told him more than the fact that she was no longer one of Ladybug's fans and that it wasn't necessary to have the bee signal repaired.

However, he knew how easy it was to fall prey to one's most vulnerable thoughts, to listen to the voice that whispered and promised. He didn't need to remember what he'd done after agreeing to Hawk Moth's terms; it was enough that he was left with the impression, that sour taste in his mouth, that he'd wanted it, whatever it was. He knew he'd agreed to something. He knew, given what had happened, that he was more than likely to agree again. He loved this city, but he also knew he could be turned against it.

He didn't know if anyone could refuse Hawk Moth, but Chloé would hardly believe that. She was blaming herself. Of course she believed that Audrey's decision to leave again was her fault. It didn't matter that she knew Audrey's reasons, that this news had only been a matter of time in coming, even if it had come sooner than they had anticipated. Audrey's mind was highly changeable, but the truth of that wouldn't matter to Chloé. She simply looked at herself, saw failure, and had that impression reinforced by her mother's leaving.

"Her work takes her away," André said, "just as mine keeps me here. It's better for you to have a stable—"

"I don't want a stable environment!" Chloé shrieked, pulling away from him. "I'm tired of hearing you say that this is better for me. Look at what I did! What I tried to do! How can you see that and say that this must be better for me?"

"You weren't yourself—"

"That's not the point!" She jumped to her feet, stalking furious circles at the foot of her bed while he watched. "I…. Daddy, I wanted this. Wanted all of it. A…a part of me still does. And I know I don't deserve it. I failed you and Mom, I failed Ladybug, I failed everyone, and I…. I ruined everything. I wanted to be better, to show Ladybug that I could be a real hero, and I just kept messing up." She stopped pacing, her expression crumbling again. "Ladybug was right. I don't deserve to be a hero."

"Chloé, sweetheart, I'm sure she didn't mean it like that." He wasn't even sure if Ladybug had said that, but that didn't matter. The point was that Chloé believed she'd said it. "Everyone has the potential to be a hero."

"Not me. I've proven that much."

"You do." He patted the bed beside him again, and she hesitated before sitting back down. "You might just need to learn to coax that part of you out more often. You are a marvellous Queen Bee, and Ladybug knows that."

"I'm not. I…I did things I shouldn't have done. I endangered people. I…. That's not what heroes do. Ladybug will never let me be Queen Bee again. She'll never…. She'll never even let me near her, let alone trust me with anything."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I…. It was different this time. I remember everything. And even if I didn't, I've seen the footage on the Ladyblog. The entire city has. Maybe the entire world. Everyone that matters, anyway. Everyone hates me, and I deserve it!"

"Just take a moment to breathe," André said, knowing that outright telling his daughter to calm down would have the opposite effect. He should have known that Chloé didn't really mean it about Ladybug. Once her anger had drained away, all that remained was guilt and regret. Whatever Ladybug had said, whatever Chloé had done…. "Despite our best efforts, we all make mistakes, and we can all be tricked. You're no different. I'm no different. Ladybug herself is no different. If you work hard at it, you'll be able to earn Ladybug's trust again."

Chloé shook her head. "No, I won't. I've messed up too many times. I've…. I don't deserve her trust, anyway. Just like…just like I don't deserve for Mom to be around."

"Oh, my little princess, it's not like that at all." André hugged Chloé to him again, rubbing her arm in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "Your mother would love to have you—"

"She doesn't even remember my name."

"That's not true."

"She doesn't. She calls me everything but Chloé. She always has to catch and correct herself."

André let out a slow breath. He should have known Chloé would notice that. "You remind her too much of your namesake, I think. Your aunt was smart as a whip, too, with a razor-sharp tongue and a stubborn streak unmatched by the rest of the family."

Chloé picked at the sliver of bedspread between them. "I don't really remember Auntie Chlo."

André pressed a kiss into her hair. "You're just like her. I think it's hard for your mom sometimes. She's just trying to give you room to grow out of your aunt's shadow—and her own. I know it's hard, I know it doesn't seem like it, but she does know your name, Chloé, and she does love you." He had talked to Audrey about this so many times, as much as they had ever talked in recent years. She never heard him out, always ignoring him or talking over him or changing the subject. He was certain she saw Chloé as a painful reminder of her sister, though if she spent any amount of time getting to know her own daughter, she'd realize Chloé was her own person. "We just want the best for you, to grow up into whoever you were meant to be. That road is rough sometimes. It's rough for everyone. You just need to keep going and trust that things will get better."

"But they won't."

"Yes, they will. Just take it one day at a time. And if you don't think that's working, fight for it one day at a time. I'm not saying it'll be easy to earn Ladybug's trust again, but I think it can be done. We haven't seen the last of Queen Bee. She's a hero of Paris; she'll be back. I'll help you find her again, princess. I'll help you fight for her."

Chloé sniffed. "Do you think Ladybug has a favourite charity?"

"You won't buy her trust with money." That was, unfortunately, another thing he couldn't give his daughter.

"I know. I just…." Chloé shrugged. "Wouldn't it be a start?"

"You could volunteer with a few different organizations across the city," he suggested slowly, even as Chloé stiffened beneath him, clearly unimpressed. "Serve a meal at a soup kitchen, perhaps. Actions speak louder than words. And certainly louder than money, though of course we can make some donations as well. I simply think doing something to help the people of Paris will mean more to Ladybug."

"But then all those people who are beneath me would—" Chloé broke off and pushed away from him. "That's ridiculous, Daddy! Utterly ridiculous! I'm a Bourgeois. I don't lower myself to that."

"It will be a hard task for Chloé Bourgeois," he agreed, meeting her eye, "but, in helping Paris, is it not something Queen Bee would do?" Should do, he silently corrected, but one never got anywhere by simply telling Chloé to do something.

Showing her the right path—or what he believed was the right path—was the only thing he could do to help her learn to recognize it for herself. He gave her as much as he could; he was quite sure, from the mutterings he overheard from the staff, that he gave her far more than he should. But this wasn't a problem that could be solved with money or political pull, and Chloé knew that.

Just like he couldn't make her mother stay, he couldn't make Ladybug forgive her, let alone trust her.

Chloé opened her mouth and shut it without saying anything.

"We can write your mother every week and tell her what you've done. Every day, if you like. She'll be so proud of you."

Chloé crossed her arms and stared at her lap. "She won't care. Neither will Ladybug. That would never be enough."

"It doesn't need to be enough. It only needs to be a start."

Silence. But silence was better than shrill denials and demands that a better plan be proposed. Silence meant she was listening to him. Considering it, unpleasant though it may be to her. She knew he was no stranger to volunteer work. She knew, if she asked, that he could make a big deal of this, the mayor and his daughter volunteering to help the less fortunate of Paris. She could have the eyes of the city on her if she wished. She could have her name on people's tongues for something other than a snide remark or derisive comment, holding her accountable for the actions she had taken under Hawk Moth's influence—though he doubted anyone in the city didn't know of someone who had been akumatized, even if they hadn't had the misfortune themselves. Still, if Chloé asked, they could try to turn the public in her favour, feed her praise instead of harsh criticism, and make it far more likely that Ladybug would hear of her work.

But she didn't ask.

And that, perhaps more than anything else, told him he might be getting through to her.

"I miss Mom already," Chloé whispered. Her voice broke on the last word, and she began to cry again. André handed her a tissue (promptly fisted in one hand but otherwise ignored) and wrapped her in another hug.

Audrey wasn't supposed to leave until tonight, but Chloé was right. Audrey didn't like goodbyes, and she absolutely detested waiting. While he'd been talking to Chloé, she'd have called for a helicopter.

He didn't know when she was supposed to come back. Not that knowing would help, really, because Chloé was right about that as well; any date she gave them now was highly unlikely to remain the date of her return.

He wasn't sure how long he held his daughter before there was a quiet knock on the door. Not one of their servants—he knew their knocks as well as he knew their footsteps; he should really see about getting his office carpeted—but a familiar knock nonetheless. It seemed like so long since André had heard it.

Chloé had sent Sabrina away so many times that she'd set a standing order with the staff that Sabrina was not to be allowed in until she said so, but she had never made any such ban against her oldest friend.

Likely as not, she'd assumed he'd abandoned her, too.

"Chloé? May I come in?"

André said nothing, waiting for Chloé to answer, but all she did was hold her breath to try to silence her sobs.

"I know this is hard," he murmured into her hair. "It'll be good for you to be around your friends."

"I don't want him to see me like this," she whispered back. "I'm not perfect right now."

"He's your friend, my little princess. You don't need to be afraid to let him see you when you don't feel at your best."

"Chlo? I…I heard."

He could be referring to Audrey's leaving as much as he could be to what Chloé considered her disgrace; Audrey may well have informed his father about her plans before she'd told any of them. It hurt, thinking that she put business relations ahead of her family, even though he knew the reasons for it.

Or thought he did, anyway.

Sometimes, he wasn't so sure.

Not that he'd ever let Chloé know that. She had enough on her plate.

"Please, I just…. Can we talk?"

André hugged his daughter tighter, feeling her relax into his arms and waiting for her nod. When she gave it, letting him know she was ready, he released her and got to his feet. It was easy enough to don a mask and pretend the wet patch on his shoulder didn't exist; he'd had to do much the same too many times before. "Just a moment more, Adrien. You'll have to forgive my old bones."

There was laughter in Adrien's eyes when André opened Chloé's bedroom door. "You aren't old, M. Bourgeois."

"Perhaps not," he agreed as he stepped into the hallway, "but I'm not feeling as young as I did when you were only up to my hip." He clasped a hand onto Adrien's shoulder, quieted his voice, and added, "You've grown into a fine young man, Adrien. Thank you for still being Chloé's friend. I know she can be difficult at times, but she needs someone like you more than she realizes."

Adrien's smile held too much sorrow in it, and André's heart ached for these kids. "I…I how she feels." Adrien's confession was hesitant, barely more voice than breath. "I know what it's like to make mistakes and to love someone who isn't there. I…. She's my friend. I won't abandon her." He stepped back, out of André's reach. "Please excuse me, M. Bourgeois."

He ducked around André and into Chloé's room, easing the door closed behind him.

André stood there a moment longer, even though he couldn't hear the conversation within. Paris was changing so quickly these days, and its youth were growing up and changing with it. It made him wonder whether he should even run for re-election in the coming year or if he should step aside as mayor and let someone else step up. He was trying to be a good example for his daughter, but she seemed to have better role models than him.

Truly, if he and Audrey were Chloé's role models, they had done her a poor service.

He could see about practicing what he preached, though. Perhaps a fundraiser for the homeless would be a good start. There were any number of issues he could call attention to, of course, but it would be a good reminder for Chloé. She always had a roof over her head and food in her belly; she could afford to remember that some had more pressing concerns than whether their drinks were chilled to precisely the right temperature.

"Sir?"

The tentative call came from one of the staff.

"Sir, I, ah, am sorry to inform you that your wife has decided she must leave immediately. Her bags are being packed as we speak, but perhaps, if you are inclined to hurry—?"

André blinked, surprised that Audrey wasn't already gone. It was so rare that he had a chance to catch her before she left—and to try to talk her into staying for a few more days. For Chloé's sake, of course. "Yes. Yes, please. Lead the way. Thank you."

Thank you. It was something he hadn't said enough. Hadn't taught Chloé to say enough. But perhaps they could all learn from each other's mistakes and try to do better.

Sometimes, the little things led to the biggest changes of all.

And he was sure that, despite all the changes he had seen so far, the greatest were yet to come.