Chapter Text
“That’s…” Adrien trailed, speechless.
“Yep.”
“I don’t even…”
“Yep.”
“It’s so…”
“Disturbing, I know.”
Adrien took two steps forward and crouched to examine the painting in more detail. Albeit, it was by no means small. It was square and likely measured eighty centimeters or more on each side. The subject was a woman, if the silhouette was anything to go by: slim looking arms, a petite waist, curved mounds on the chest, though the detail itself was more or less foregone. Blue-black strokes suggested disheveled hair, but the features ended there. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. The figure itself was almost abstract, suggestive rather than indicative, like a cheap imitation of something more valuable. Costly. Precious.
Copycat? Adrien’s eyes were drawn to the messy word, violently and angrily slashed onto the canvas, and was briefly taken back to one of his father’s tirades on the repugnance of the luxury knockoff trade. Pradai, Balenciagu, Agriste--there were too many to number. But it was Gabriel’s contempt, his disgust that stayed with Adrien the most, the same sort of self righteous anger Adrien saw reflected in the image before him.
His fingers itched to reach out and touch the surface, fed by something akin to a primal urge to test whether the emotions that went into the painting’s chaotic creation would somehow infect him through his fingertips. Would he be possessed by the creator’s hatred and malice?
But no, he knew it would give him nothing more than an empty reply. A reality far exceeded by the expectation of it. Instead, he leaned closer until he was nearly nose to canvas.
“Have you swabbed this yet?” Adrien pointed to the red lettering.
“Affirmative. It’s been a few hours, but hopefully we’ll get some answers soon. Zoe said it’s most likely paint, though. Real blood would gradually change color as time passes, but this color seems to stay the same.”
Adrien nodded as he listened. Nino continued.
“We dusted it for prints, too, but came up with nothing for the effort. No foreign fibers or anything like that clinging onto it, either. Some dirt on the bottom, but that was from the alleyway. The canvas and paints are all pretty widely available. Might be able to figure out the specific brand, but that won’t really help at all in narrowing down any sort of retail location or anything, much less a day and time of purchase. Not to mention, we can’t even say for absolutely sure it’s related to this case at all, aside maybe from the fact it was left behind our building. It’s almost like... it’s taunting us on purpose.”
Adrien sighed and rose to stand, unable to tear his eyes away from it.
“Or someone is.”
“Oh, Adrikins.”
Adrien stopped halfway through the threshold to his apartment, heaving a heavy sigh, then proceeded the rest of the way into the room and closed and locked the door behind him. The messenger bag on his shoulder and the accordion file of papers in his arm both went onto the island past the coat closet. In the dimness, he could make out a blonde-haired figure stretched out across his sofa, the only light in the room the low glow of Paris peeking in from the windows of his terrace door, and the faint ember at the end of a cigarette hovering above the prone figure’s lips.
“Do you need something, Chlo?”
The soft sound of blowing could be heard in the quiet space, followed by the faint scent of burning nicotine.
“I always need you, Adrikins. Ugh!” The sudden flooding of lamplight in the room elicited a resentful grunt from the visitor, and she shielded her eyes with the hand carrying her cigarette. Adrien looked at her apathetically from his position by the switch. “For fuck’s sake, a little warning,” she grumbled. Adrien walked past her and into the kitchen.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
He was pulling a storage container with leftovers out of the refrigerator when he noticed the empty bottle on the counter.
“What the hell, Chloe?” Footsteps preceded the individual until all one hundred and sixty slender centimeters sauntered sluggishly into the room, empty glass in one hand, cigarette burning down to the nub in the other, blonde hair in disarray, and twelve-hour-old makeup starting to racoon under her ice blue eyes. “I was saving that scotch.”
Chloe huffed and rolled her eyes, tossed the cigarette butt into the empty sink.
“Whatever. I’ll buy you more. Ten if you want.”
She leaned unsteadily until her hip came into contact with the counter and tried to make it look intentional. Adrien looked at her, deadpan.
“It’s not cheap, you know.”
Chloe sniffed.
“Everything is cheap to me,” she stated matter-of-factly--not to brag, but more like it was old news, and there was no use for pretending otherwise. Adrien sighed. “Tastes like toilet water, though. Champagne is much better.”
Giving her a patient yet long-suffering look, Adrien pulled a beer out of the refrigerator to go with his pre-nuke dinner.
“And how do you know what toilet water tastes like?” He quirked an eyebrow at her and twisted the top off the bottle before taking a swig. Then, sliding a plate out of a nearby cabinet, he dumped the cold food on the plate and slipped it into the microwave. The start button beeped loudly.
She rolled her eyes again.
“Gross, it’s a figure of speech. You know, like a hyperbole?”
Adrien suppressed a laugh, took another drink while he leaned against the counter opposite her and waited for his food to start popping and steaming. The beer was a pale ale and tasted bitter.
“That’s a big word. I’m proud of you.”
“Whatever, fuck you too.” She set the glass down on the countertop beside her, crossed her arms and adjusted her stance when she listed a bit. Adrien observed her more closely.
“You eaten anything today?”
Chloe snorted rather inelegantly and gestured to herself.
“Do I look like I eat?” Her tone indicated it was a rhetorical question, but Adrien still felt like he didn’t know what to say. She beat him to the punch, anyway. “My therapists are working on it.”
Adrien frowned.
“I’m gonna put a pin in that for now because you can bet we’ll be coming back to that later, but drinking that much on an empty stomach is going to make you sick.”
She giggled, but there was no mirth in her eyes.
“What else is new?”
The microwave beeped behind Adrien. He turned and collected his newly-heated dinner, then grabbed Chloe by the wrist and dragged her to the dining table, causing her to trip at the sudden jolt. With a firm hand, though without much necessary force due to her state, he pushed her down to sit on one of the chairs and set the food down in front of her.
“Eat.”
Chloe wrinkled her nose.
“What is this?”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s food. Not all food has to be caviar and sushi.”
She gave Adrien a bemused expression as he settled into the seat beside her.
“What world do you think I live in exactly?”
“I don’t know, but the rest of us aren’t in it, that’s for sure.” He set a fork beside the plate. “Not that I’m complaining about that, now just eat.”
“What about you?” she asked around a bite, having already shoveled some of the more-or-less-successful attempt at homemade stroganoff into her mouth. Adrien rose out of the chair and headed back to the kitchen.
“I’ll eat something else,” he called over his shoulder. “I live alone. Either I eat takeout all the time, or I always have leftovers. There’s more where that came from.” He re-entered the dining area with a glass of water and set it down, then took his seat once again. “Rough day at work?”
Chloe chuffed.
“When is it not?” Another bite, slowly chewed. “Your father is a real piece of work.”
Adrien laughed mirthlessly.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I mean,” more chewing, then swallowing, “I know he just hired me because my daddy asked him to, but-”
“I don’t know about that.”
Chloe gave him a wry smile.
“Don’t kid me, Adrikins. I know exactly how talented I am. I’m no designer. I’m a glorified gofer.”
“Well, you’re learning.”
“No. It’s- I know exactly how many things I’m good at, and it’s nothing. Well, that’s not true. I’m good at being a bitch.”
“My dad doesn’t hire useless people.”
She slumped a little at that, out of relief or resignation, it wasn’t clear. Then she cleared her throat and resumed eating. A minute or so of silence descended until Adrien broke it.
“So, you ready to tell me what you were doing, waiting here for me to show up?”
Chloe looked to Adrien with an expression that was difficult to read. With visible effort, she swallowed the bite she was chewing.
“I-” she halted, then looked down at her plate. “I heard… a body was found. By the Seine.”
Carefully she set her fork down but didn’t look up. Adrien propped an elbow up on the table, resting his jaw against the knuckles of his hand, and studied her. He stayed quiet for a moment.
“You should eat more,” he eventually murmured.
Chloe sighed, picked up the fork again with evident hesitation.
“I’m… waiting for the urge to throw it back up to go away,” she admitted quietly. Adrien nodded and waited. Chloe took the glass of water and sipped carefully. “Sabrina was there… when her dad got the call. I didn’t hear anything other than that.”
“Right. Officer Raincomprix. I gathered that.”
“I know you can’t… talk about open cases.” Chloe fiddled with the fork, spinning it round on the tines atop the plate. “I heard through the grapevine the case was handed over to you. I was just… wondering if it was her. If she was really dead.”
Adrien mentally went through the interviews and couldn’t think of anything remarkable about Chloe’s. She was an employee of Gabriel, but she spent most of her time in another office completely, under a separate house line. Their interactions were few and brief.
“I don’t really have an answer for you. Were you… close?”
Chloe chuckled dryly.
“Quite the opposite, actually.”
Adrien’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. Where was this in the interview? They barely asked her a handful of questions, nothing of the personal nature on account of how infrequently Chloe ever saw the Dupain-Cheng woman.
“We went to school together,” Chloe explained after a pause. “She was my classmate for several years. We… didn’t get along. Then again, I guess there wasn’t anyone really I got along with, anyway.” She fell quiet, contemplative. Then, more quietly: “I know now the reason all along was me.” Chloe dropped the fork then, brought her hands up to frame the sides of her face and blocked them from Adrien’s view. “I’ve been trying all this time to work up the courage to reach out and apologize. But it’s so hard! And every time I saw her, I’d get nervous, and then I’d say something nasty or rude. It’s like I don’t know how to do anything else.”
Adrien slowly pushed the plate of forgotten food away, then gathered her into a hug. Chloe shuddered.
“What if I never get the chance?”
There was no answer to that, so Adrien just held and shushed her until she shifted out of his arms.
“Come on,” he said, brushing a lock of wayward hair out of her face. “Let’s clean up.”
Chloe made a trip to the restroom while Adrien cleaned up the kitchen, digging some deli meat and brie out of the fridge and making a quick sandwich. As he finished wiping the last crumbs into the trash, she emerged from the hall, swiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I… couldn’t keep it down,” she murmured. Adrien gave her a sympathetic look.
“I’m sure the alcohol didn’t help. We’ll try again later.” Chloe nodded and fiddled with her hair, attempting to tidy it. Adrien turned out the lights in the kitchen and headed for the living room, followed by Chloe. Both stopped in front of the sofa and sunk into the cushions. Chloe grabbed a throw pillow and cuddled it, simultaneously putting a cigarette between her lips and lighting it. Then she gestured toward Adrien with the pack in invitation.
“No, thanks. I don’t smoke anymore.”
She snorted, smoke flowing out from her nostrils.
“Well, if you say so.”
She set the pack on the coffee table and got comfortable. Adrien fidgeted, seemingly hesitant about something, before uttering halteringly:
“Can I- is it all right- do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
Chloe exhaled a plume, considering.
“I suppose. It’s your job to ask, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of something you shared privately, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I am, but I understand. Every possible avenue.”
“It’ll be off the record, if that makes it any easier.”
Chloe shrugged, almost successful at appearing nonchalant.
“It’s whatever. Ask away.”
“What were... your personal interactions like with Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”
Chloe shifted again, sinking deeper into the cushions. She ashed her cigarette on a small saucer sitting on the coffee table. It already had a small mound of ash, presumably from her time spent waiting for Adrien to arrive home.
“I was a bully to her. In grade school I used to pick on her, single her out, call her names and berate her, make fun of her for being a baker’s daughter, took credit for as many impressive things she did as I could. I even plagiarised her work once and tried to play it off like she was the thief, though I got caught.”
Adrien did his best to school his features. He already knew what Chloe was like as a youth, but hearing it straight from her, was something in itself.
“Actually can I have one of those after all?” Adrien pointed to the cigarettes. Chloe laughed a little, shaking her head.
“Obviously.”
He pulled one out, lit it, let the acrid smoke fill his lungs in a way that was strange yet familiar. It had been a while, though, and he coughed. Chloe laughed harder.
“Idiot.”
Adrien ignored her and took another pull, this time a little smoother than the last, held it and exhaled.
“I forgot how good that feels.”
Chloe smiled at him, the first time all night that he’d seen her smile with any real sincerity.
“So.”
Her smile widened.
“So,” she echoed.
Adrien cleared his throat. She took another pull.
“How about after you became adults?”
“Mm, well, after graduation, I didn’t see her for a while. I was, uh, legal for a lot of things I had already been doing for years and kind of went crazy partying. She was more of a homebody. She got into university and spent a lot of time studying, I think. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I mean, she got hired right out of university, so she was obviously good at what she did, and dedicated. I’ve never seen your dad take to someone like that before.”
“Oh?” The revelation echoed Adrien’s own thoughts from his interview with Gabriel, but it still felt odd and uncomfortable to hear.
“He was just… enamored with her. Even when he showed up at our branch, he was constantly talking about her. Not in a super-obvious way, either, more like he just couldn’t help it. Like everything somehow was connected back to her, and he was the only one who could see it. It kind of made the other designers jealous, you know? Or maybe not jealous, but sort of envious. Being held up to the Marinette standard, well, nobody could compare.”
“Does that include you?”
Chloe smirked, the cigarette glowing red between her lips.
“I’m no designer, so I was spared the meterstick in that regard, if that’s what you’re asking. But that’s not to say there were no condescending comments about my lack of work ethic, and how I could ever have hoped to pass off Marinette’s work as my own was beyond him, because the differences were glaring.”
Adrien’s features took on a confused expression.
“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know. The work I plagiarised from her was from a design contest way back in collège. You remember, don’t you? That feathered bowler hat you wore one time for a shoot? Only they had to replace it with a fake feather since you’re allergic. That probably tipped off your dad right there. I knew about your feather allergy, but I had had Sabrina steal the designs, and I paid somebody else to make it, so I didn’t realize until the last minute. But it was too late, anyway. Marinette had integrated her name into the design, so the hat I presented was basically signed ‘Marinette.’ It was pretty humiliating.”
Adrien’s jaw dropped with surprise and something close to admiration. To have crossed paths with this person, even in such an obscure way, and for her to be so, frankly, impressive even at a young age, Adrien was awed. Fate was a strange and sometimes cruel thing. He wished he could have known her somehow…
“Anyway,” Chloe broke Adrien out of his thoughts. “I’ve done a lot of things over the course of my life trying to be more like Marinette, or out of jealousy of her. Some really stupid things.” Chloe blushed, averting her eyes for a moment. “But I’m getting off track. What else did you want to know?”
“In the professional meetings you’ve had, did you ever notice anything strange about the dynamics between her and anyone she works with?”
Chloe sighed long and weighty, then stubbed out her cigarette on the saucer.
“I mean, Theo Barbeau is something else. He uses any excuse he can to touch her. It’s almost as cringey as that pubic hair growing on his face.”
“Pubic hair?”
“He has a really awful goatee, like he’s trying to be Don Juan or something, but in reality, all he has to offer is a small pecker and a sexually transmitted infection.”
Adrien blinked at the information and decided he didn’t need to know if that was a joke or personal knowledge.
“What about… her former boyfriend, Luka?” Adrien swallowed around a lump in his throat. “You must have been around each other when those two were still dating.”
“Well, I mean, yea.” Chloe shifted uncomfortably before reaching for another cigarette. “But it’s not like we spent time together or anything, so I don’t really know much about them. He didn’t even go to the same school as us, though I don’t know why. He was Juleka’s twin brother, so you’d
think
they would be at the same school-”
“Juleka Couffaine?!”
Chloe looked taken aback by the surprised interruption.
“Yes?”
“Ah, geez, how did I not make that connection?” Adrien dragged a hand down his face. “You know her girlfriend works at the station?” The cigarette between his fingers, long neglected and burnt to nothing, he discarded into the saucer.
“Oh, does she? What a small world. Juleka models for Miraculeaux, actually, believe it or not. She looks completely different in private as she does at work. I guess that’s part of being a model, though.” Adrien remained quiet, thinking.
“You know,” Chloe suddenly remarked, “now that you mention it, I think I saw them together--Luka and Marinette.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, I don’t really remember seeing them, but it’s something I noticed in some of my photos the other day. I was out at a bar, and I had already had a few drinks I guess, because my memory is hazy, but I was taking a selfie and in the background was Luka and Marinette.”
Adrien frowned.
“When was this?”
“Shit, I don’t know, a few weeks ago? I don’t remember the exact date, I only saw it, like, yesterday.”
“Show me the photo.”
Chloe reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out her phone, grumbling. “Jeez, demanding much?”
Still, she opened her photos and found the one she had been describing. Sure enough, in the dim background there was someone who looked remarkably like Luka Couffaine talking to a woman who was turned away at a quarter or so profile, the silhouette of her face barely visible but framed by telltale blue-black hair that reached about half way down her neck. She looked slim, clothed in a long-sleeved black shirt with a mock turtleneck. Chloe handed Adrien her phone, and he studied the photo, then opened the details to see when it was taken.
The date read 20 June 2027, 01:46.
“Chloe, what’s the name of this bar?”
“Oh, I think it’s something like Le Paon?”