Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“My Lady,” he reached out with a gloveless hand for the girl clad in red. Behind her spotted mask bluebell eyes shone with mirth.

“Come get me, Adrien,” she said softly...

“Adrien.”

“ADRIEN.”

“AAAADRIEN!”

His eyes snapped open.

That was NOT his Lady.

Groggy eyes fluttered across the room, landing on none other than Plagg, who floated to the corner looking unbothered.

“Get me cheese,” the tiny god said bluntly.

Adrien glared silently, ignored the demands and looking at the clock on his bed stand.

An hour and twenty-three minutes till he had to leave the mansion.

He wanted to cry.

Instead, he pulled off his blanket ( with a bit of unnecessary force ) and walked over to his computer. Sitting heavily in his chair he clicked into the Ladyblog, scrolling aimlessly through the photos of him and Ladybug on their epic misadventures. Adrien's eyebrows furrowed as the frequency of interviews Ladybug tolerated had decreased and how she had become more and more irritable toward the aspiring journalist. It was small things at first, doding questions and offering fewer smiles, soon it had escalated to outright glaring and biting words. 

His lips thinned at the memory of their last fight.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Ladybug screamed at the girl, her hands balled into her shirt collar.

She had yelled at Alya with such venom and disgust that it had brought instant tears to the redhead's eyes. Chat could do nothing but gape as his partner flat out tore apart the girl, who had admittedly thrown herself into danger again for a scoop. All be it, she had done wrong he didn't think that the girl deserved a verbal backhand to the face.

Adrien had tried to bring it up in hope of a reason at the very least, only to be shot down with an icy glance and a curt farewell.

Adrien's vision snapped back into focus as the sounds of his alarm brought him out of his thoughts, he was surprised that 45 minutes had passed in a blink of an eye.

He would be needed downstairs soon enough.

Abandoning the moniter he got dressed and double-checked that his bag had all it needed to before stalking up on Camembert ( much to Plaggs pleasure ). He let the God fly into his bag as he made his way down the stairs. Opting to ignore the cold marble he let himself drift into the back of his mind, eating breakfast and leaving the house automatically. The morning passed him in a blur, the image of Marinette's bright smile didn't register, nor did the way her shoulders seemed to curve on themselves when Lila stepped into the room. The chatter of the room seemed to go through one ear and out the other, leaving on a slight buzzing in the very corners of his consciousness. 

And it stayed the same for most of the day as he absently jotted down notes, favoring his own head than the lesson. The day had gone on to be as mundane as any other, the lesson was boring, Chloe was bitching, that was until the blaring sounds of the Akuma alarm drowned out M. Bustiers monotone voice.

Madame Bustier stopped her lesson, closing the book in her hands with a snap, she seemed more inconvenienced than upset. 

“Please form a single file line and leave the classroom. The checkout form will be at the designated area. Class is dismissed for the day,” she stated rather broadly, for Akumas had become a common issue over the past year to the point where the standard cautionary measures became second nature.

Adrien walked out of the class briskly and subtly left the group, sneaking into the restrooms and nodded as Plagg flew out of his overshirt.

“Isn’t this getting a bit old,” the cat god asked, exasperated.

“Evil never rests,” Adrien sighed dramatically, a small smirk on his face.

“Plagg, Claws Out!”

In a brilliant flash of neon green light, he was Chat Noir once again.

Chat threw himself out of a nearby window and climbed onto the roof, scanning the city for the Akuma, his eyes locked onto two small figures that clashed on the horizon.

He smirked.

Found them.

Chat Noir bounded across roofs tirelessly, each beat of his foot against the roof sending a bolt of exhilaration through him. The attacks had been going on for around two years now and he knew the rooftops by heart. He smiled in determination as he neared the Akuma.

Said Akuma was a figure made completely out of paper folded into the shape of a man like origami. In the Akumas hands where four-pointed origami stars that by the looks of the slashes all over the roof, were really sharp.

Ladybug swung her yo-yo at astonishing speeds, deflecting the flurry of stars directed at her. Although the yo-yo seemed to be doing its job he couldn’t help but notice the hairline scratch on her cheek. He frowned and with a final bound thrust himself into the battle, bringing his baton around in an arch, like a bat.

The Akuma simply folded itself in half. Which was impossible for a human. But what did logic mean to a boy wearing a magical leather catsuit?

“Hellow Bugaboo, it seems that we’ve got a mess on our hands, should I bring a shredder?”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be against it,” she muttered frowning as she wiped away the blood.

Chat let out a small snort.

The Akuma didn’t seem too happy with being mocked and let lose a battle cry and another barrage of stars. Ladybug dodged them with grace and charged him when he had thrown his last star, only to avoid being run through by a paper katana. Ladybug let out a string of curses as she flipped away from the wicked blade.

“Damnit,” she growled as the Akuma laughed.

“Any ideas,” Chat asked her, his green eyes never left the paper man. As time went on and the number of battles Chat had under his belt went up he came to understand that Ladybug was the head of the duo, the one with the plan.

She shook her head begrudgingly, “All I know is that his Akuma is in that paper Crain,” she nodded her head at a Crain that was peeking out from under a fold that Chat assumed was the chink in his paper armor.

Chat nodded his head.

“We should wrap this up before we learn the full extent of what he can do,” commented Ladybug.

“Yeah, I’ll get the recycling bin.”

She sent him a look that promptly shut him up.

“Lucky Charm!”

Ladybug called out and in a flash of pink light a huge water cooler filled to the brim with water dropped onto Ladybug. Who was nearly crushed under the sudden weight.

She scowled at the large cooler that was in her hands, her bluebell eyes flicked around the battlefield till they landed on Chat Noirs belt. Then the pieces fell together.

Used the cooler as a shield with one hand and reached out, yanking Chat Noirs belt clean off him with the other. He let out a yowl and tried to send her a look over his shoulder, only to have a star graze his neck.

Ladybug cringed slightly at the red that had splattered next to her from the cut.

“Cover for me,” she yelled before ducking behind a chimney.

She steeled her nerves and got to work tying the belt onto the side handle of the cooler.

“Chat, move out of the way,” she said as she ran forward with his belt in one hand and her yo-yo in the other.

And with as much force she could muster she swung it around, once, twice, then with one final heave, she swung it clean over her head in an arch. She smiled victoriously as the water splashed all over the paper man, rendering him powerless.

Still grinning she walked towards the fallen Akuma. Failing to notice the bomb that was still counting down.

Only for Chat Noir to notice a second too late.

As if in slow motion, Chat's eyes widened when he saw the bomb. He opened his mouth to yell a warning, scream, anything.  But time seemed to slam back into pace as the bomb went off.

Chapter Text

Chat woke to a violent ringing in his ears and the sound of sirens.

It was so loud ...

Everything Around him seemed to shift out of focus making it seem as if the world was spinning. He tried to take a deep breath, only to cough violently when he inhaled more dust than air.

He moved his fingers first, working his way up his arm. Slowly he moved his hand to cover his mouth and took a shallow breath. Chats vision had started to shift back and focus.

What was around him was pure madness. He scanned the area, there was debris and wreckage everywhere, metal beams protruded roughly from the broken building.

His black suit had been tinted a off gray by of the layers of dust that coating him from head to toe. Moving onto his elbows grimaced at his ankle, which was crushed underneath a stray chunk of cement. Chat Noir silently thanked God that he was still in his suit or else he knew for a fact that his ankle would’ve been shattered. He moved slowly, grunting as the weight was shifted off of him. The moment of satisfaction was gone as the sudden memory gripped him, Ladybug!

She had been the closest one when the bomb detonated. Chat noir scramble to his feet, wincing at the pain in his ankle. His eyes frantically looked for her red suit. Instead he watching in horror as ambulances carried off people in stretchers and by standers huddled in groups.

We needed to call on Lucky Charm .

He thought urgently, blood racing.

“Oh god,” he whispered hoarsely as his eyes raked the sea of debris.

Under a mound of rubble a single red hand rested on the floor, clutching a yo-yo.

He froze all, the air had left him.

“Oh my god oh my god please don’t let this be happening,” he rasped over and over, panic and fear gripped his throat as he stumbled to his Lady.

Falling to his knees and called forth cataclysm, his hand shook violently as he touched it to the rubble that covered the small girl.

She lay unbearably still, a large gash on her forehead stained the floor around her with a red as rich as her suit.

His hand flew to her neck, he held his breath as he rested his fingers against her vein, letting out a strangled sob when the throb of her plus beat against his fingers.

“Ladybug,” he shook her arm lightly almost afraid she would shatter like glass at the slightest touch.

She didn’t move, he felt his heart stutter.

We need the lucky charm.

He barely clung onto that one ration thought as the hands of panic gripped his throat mercilessly and his hands shook violently, he felt like screaming but there was no air left.

It was a vacuum that he was sealed in.

Chat only noticed the tears in his eyes when he saw the lucky charm blur in the distance.

He took one last reluctant look at Ladybugs still form and attempted to stand, only to collapse, his legs shook much too violently.

He cast his dignity aside and crawled, his limbs shook and his vision blurred as he practically dragged himself to the spotted cooler.

He ignored the beeping of the ring, Plagg could wait for just this once.

Chat gripped onto the handle weakly and pulled, the box moved slowly as he did. The ringing in his ears far passed the wails of sirens and the sounds of helicopters. He took a deep breath.

Then another. It didn’t help but he forced himself to his feet. And stumbled to Ladybug who still lay there unmoving.

He sent a distraught look towards the cooler then to the girl.

I’m sorry my Lady.

He slapped her across the face.

Her blue eyes snapped open, unfocused and bleary as they flicked around. Ladybugs hands flew to her ear rings that where on their last spot.

“T-he charm,” Chat Noir gasped out, he had practically fainted in relief when she had woken up.

Her eyes followed his movements and landed on the box. Chat Noir felt the relief flutter away as she stumbled to her feet like the world was tilting. Ladybug stumbled to the box and grabbed it sloppily. With a final shout she sent it into the air, collapsing when the swarm of ladybugs repaired the catastrophic around them.

But Ladybug stayed still.

Chat swore violently, scrambling towards her and grabbing onto her tightly.

She’s breathing.

He tightened his grip on her and pulled out his baton, planting it firmly on the ground he shot them forward.

To the tower.

Chat set down onto the metal floor heavily. Falling to his knees he set down the unconscious girl and turned to the city, he ignored the flash of red next to him as Ladybug became a civilian again. He turned his back to her and let his transformation fall.

And in a flash of brilliant light, he was once again Adrien.

Plagg sent him a look of concern which Adrien ignored in favor of pulling out his phone and checking the news.

—

“Although all 23 injured where healed by the miraculous cure the 7 fatalities remain.

Including:

Rosetta Bisset

Marc Anciel

Alexander Fournier (Origaman)

Amanda Leblanc

Selena Mericer

Maxwell Dubois

Dorian Paquet .”

The reporter spoke solemnly as a video of the building collapsing played in the background.

“This leaves the question, where are Ladybug and Chat Noir and what is to come for Paris now that we know the dead don’t come ba-

—

Adrien shut off his phone. And threw it down, putting his head in his hands as the sound echoed through him.

“Kid,” Plaggs voice fell deaf to Adriens ears.

“Seven,” he said in disbelief, tears had started to roll down his face.

“Seven people are dead because I didn’t stop that bomb,” he whispered softly.

Adrien had read books and watched movies where deaths fell onto the shoulders of the protagonist and they collapsed due to it. Usually throwing away logic for emotions. He’d always shaken his head and scoffed at the theatrics of it all. But now it was real.

So very real and all on him.

He understood now, they where people with lives and families, goals, ambitions and everything ahead of them or around them.

They where DEAD.

Plagg flew up to his face and grabbed his chin. Forcing Adrien to stare into the small gods green eyes.

“This is NOT your fault so you can’t blame yourself, this is the duty of a hero Adrien,” the gods words made the tears that rolled down his face feel like acid.

“I can’t leave them like that,” Adrien said  desperately, his hands raked through his hair as his tears matched with sobs.

Plagg looked away.

Adrien let out a whimper.

“I admit that i knew the fight hadn’t really started,” Plagg said solemnly.

“People die in war, I’ve seen thousands upon thousands fall. Some stood by me, others in my way. But at the end they all where dead. You can’t stop death Adrien.”

He floated down onto the floor beside his charge, eyes drowning in the grief eons plagued with death.

“Everyone had a certain number of years that is set for them to live. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that they will live to be that age. A persons death is not seat in stone as some may think. Because with ever tiny action the future changes. And because the future is ever shifting and changing biased on people’s actions that means that there are thousands of different sub universes where one can die depending on the actions that they took. Because of Hawkmoth those people’s lives where ended because of an explosion that they was in the range of.”

Although Plaggs eyes where on Adrien he was seeing a different Chat Noir.

The girl with a cigarette and a smirk.

“Death will always follow a black cat.”

—

Marinette woke up to a cool breeze against her skin.

She felt the cold hard metal underneath her body and heard the sounds of breathing from a few feet away. Marinette  stayed there for a moment, leaving her eyes closed and simply listening and feeling.

Then she opened her eyes.

And it all came back.

Everything.

She bit back a scream as her head whipped around frantically. She wasn’t at the building, she was on the tower. And in front of her, looking over the edge was Chat Noir.

“I didn’t look,” his tired voice cut through her panic.

She breathed nodded her head, ignoring that he couldn’t see it.

“W-what happened,” she asked, her voice seemed broken and gravely, as if she hadn’t used it in years.

Chat Noir waited a beat before answering.  “A...a bomb went off. The building collapse with both of us. I can only assume that the Akuma was destroyed in the blast.”

Marinette stilled.

“Seven people died,” he finished.

And it seemed as if the world had fallen apart with those three words.

The world seemed to dim, as if Seven stars had suddenly blinked out.

“Who,” she could scarcely force out the one word.

Chats shoulders seemed to cave in on themselves.

“Rosetta Bisset

Marc Anciel

Alexander Fournier

Amanda Leblanc

Selena Mericer

Maxwell Dubois

Dorian Paquet,” he said, each name seemed to pain him more than the last.

Wait-

Marc Anciel.

Marinette covered her mouth as a strangled wail escaped her lips.

No...

“N-n-n-no that can’t be possible,” she stuttered helplessly, “ t-the cure -“

“Doesn’t bring back the dead,” said Tikki.

Chat stiffened at the new voice.

“It seems that this marks a new chapter in our fight, Chat said bitterly.

“Now it’s war.”

Marinette could do nothing but let her head fall into her hands and sob.

And she did, she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until there where no tears to shed. Only then did she call back her transformation and shuffle to the ledge where Chat Noir was sitting.

His usually vibrant green eyes where dull and broken as they watched over the mourning city.

“I don’t know if I can let people die, Ladybug.”

Chapter Text

It had been a week.

A week of the media in chaos.

A week of Parisians fearing every corner.

A week of Ladybug and Chat Noir trying to reassure them.

A week of Marinette comforting Nathaniel.

A week of Lila lying about her relations to the dead.

A week of Ladybug and Chat Noir visiting families and apologizing.

A week after the protectors of Paris lost.

Adrien woke up with a muffled shout as he had for the past two nights. He shuts his eyes tightly as flashes of red danced across his mind. Some of flames, some of blood, and one that glowed like twin rubies in the darkness. Breathing deeply through his nose Adrien ignored the violent blotches of color that stained his eyes as they fluttered across the dark room. He relaxed slightly as the smell of lavender seemed to curl through his body, replacing the sensation of burning ash against his skin. 

Adrien continued to breathe deeply as Plagg silently snuggled into his palm. His heart raced from one of the many dreams that had plagued him from the night it happened, and with the dreams came panic attacks. Ones that stole his breath till there was nothing but fire in his lungs and seemed to grip his heart painfully. The first time he could remember having one was at the dinner table. He flinched at the memory of the violent shaking of his hands and the sound of the fork clattering against the table loudly. Natalie looked at him with concern as his breaths became shorter and his vision seemed to blur, only to focus on the flame of the candle across from him.

Adrien had fainted that day, he shuttered as if he were on the cold floor one again instead of his bed. 

"Kid, "Plagg said carefully, bringing Adrien back from his lucid memory. The god stared up at him with grim and earnest eyes, "It's two in the morning, go to sleep, stressing yourself out is going to hurt you and piss me off. It's a lose-lose situation."

Adrien sighed quietly and looked out the window into the starless sky. 

How must she be fairing? 

He thought to himself, grimacing darkly. If he was the chosen of destruction and he was waking up at night screaming, how would the embodiment of creation be any better? 

"It seems that I can only hope," Adrien said aloud, his voice scratchy and raw. 

"Dumb fuckin' kid," she growled, hand tightening on the cigarette in her hand. 

Her crimson eyes watched silently as the smoke rose gracefully from her parted lips.

"It seems these ankle-biters don't know what they're in for till they're neck-deep in it."

Smirking ruefully, she flicked the cig off the edge into the swirling sea below," Seems that they are the only ones that make it out alive in the end."

Her fearsome eyes cast upward, "Don't they Dovey."

 Marinette silently made her way down the stairs to the bakery below. Her blue eyes trained on her shoes as she padded across the room and to the counter. It had been a week since she had slept. Every night she would stay up and recite the seven names. Remembering their families and tears. The wails of a mother, the screams of a lover, each sound bounced in her head along with the sounds of that night. 

Marinette shook her head and scanned the bakery, ignoring her Kawami's soft gaze, there weren't many people. Only a couple of stray businessmen and an older woman who looked to be around 70 years old. Unlike the businessmen, she had sat down on one of the far tables, a croissant untouched in front of her as she looked outside and at the Paris skyline. Her cherrywood cane rested against her chair. Marinette's gaze lingered for only a moment, then she made her way out of the building into the street. Her heart burned at the normalcy of it all, everything seemed the same. But it wasn't, and it felt wrong, out of place to walk down a street on a sunny day to school. She wanted the sun to tuck away and the sky to cry, nothing was normal. She glowered at the cloudless sky, how dare it shine a joyful blue when they were dead. 

It's not fair.

Life was going on without them.

She walked to class without slowly, a grimace permanently set on her face as the familiar scenes passed her. Her blue eyes darkened as she walked into the classroom and once again, Lila was in the center of it all. Marinette simmered in barely suppressed rage as the brunette sobbed fake tears over her "friends" who died. Marinette wanted to punch the lying bitch. Of all the things Lila had done this was by far the lowest. Marinette burned, Lila wasn't the one who met the deads families and cried with them. She wasn't thrown to the street for not failing, she wasn't pulled into a sorrowful hug by the ones that needed something to hang onto. She didn't lie away every night with the dead in her shadows. She was a lying motherfucking bitch. 

She sniffled and looked at Alya with tearful eyes, "Rosetta was a great friend of my mother, she was like an aunt to me and I can't believe that she's gone," she sobbed again. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard to Marinette.

Rosetta Bisset

Mother of three, loving wife and mother. She loved roses and her favorite treat was poundcake. She sang for her children when they were sad and loved dancing. She died at 38. Her children's names are, Vivienne, Lilly, and Clause. 

Marinette's vison seemed to glaze red with anger, so much anger. How in the world was it fair to kill Rosetta and leave Lila to sully her memory for her personal games? She was so angry she simply stood there, willing her gaze to burn through all of them. 

As if sensing her thoughts Lilas Olive green gaze found her own, satisfaction pooled him her eyes as well as tears. It seemed that something small in Marinette snapped, without a second thought she grabbed a water bottle from the desk next to her( Adrien's ), ignoring his concerned stare she threw it at the floor in front of Lila, watching with a small amount of satisfaction as it shattered on the floor at the girls feet and splashed her as well as everyone else. Screams and gasps echoed through the room as everyone turned to stare at Marinette in complete disbelief. Alya looked at her with such disgust and horror that Marinette felt like punching her too. 

Turning on her heel she walked out, ignoring the pooling dread in her stomach.

Marinette pointedly ignored the fact that she hadn't stayed at school for a full day for nearly a week now.

She had brushed off her parents and Tikki. She didn't want any counseling, she was so tired.

When her grief had swept away there was resentment and rage left behind, she was so tired of all that was wrong. It had only been a week, when would they next Akuma come? And when it did, what would she and Chat do? What could they do? Now that everything had changed the weight being Paris's hero truly fell on their shoulders. Before, she knew that even if Paris burned as long as she was around everything would be better in the end. Oh, how wrong she was because if Paris were to truly burn then at the end of the day there would be no one left but the city itself. 

"How could you not tell me," Marinette had screamed at Tikki that night. 

"How could you not tell me that people could die," she had sobbed at the Kawami.

"Oh Marinette, this was a lesson that not even a god could teach, I'm so sorry."

She sat down on a bench at the park. Blankly watching the autumn leaves swirl in the breeze. 

She sat in silence as the sounds of the city replaced her sobs when the tears fell. 

"Oh, Marinette," Tikki's soothing voice came, stroking her hand Tikki offered nothing more. Deciding to sit in silence with her. 

And they sat together blissfully unaware of everything and nothing.

Until Tikki zipped back into the bag, and the sound of ruffling fabric and the rhythmic clicking of cane startled Marinette out of her daze, looking up she saw an older woman with a warm smile and sad turquoise eyes. 

"May I sit with you," the woman asked kindly, nodding at the empty spot by Marinette. She stared for a moment then enclined her head slightly the women sat, setting her cane aside and down and pulled something from her purse. 

Macaroons.

Marinette thought with a start, Dupain-Cheng Macaroons, the lady offered her one. And out of obligation or familiarity, she took it. Marinette thanked her quietly and stared at the small pastry in her hand as if it were a gem.

"I saw you this morning at the bakery," the lady says, her voiced accented, pulling away Marinette's attention, blue eyes meeting knowing turquoise ones.

"My name is Catrina Ross Smith, I've wanted to meet you for some time now Marinette."

Taken aback Marinette took a moment to truly look at Catrina, she wore a long navy dress under a leather jacket, her white hair was tied to the side and rested over her shoulder. On her wedding finger was a ring with a ruby in the middle next to two emeralds with a silver band, her hands surprised Marinette for they were covered in scars. 

"How do you know my name," Marinette asked, she looked harmless but there was a knowing glint in her eyes that made Marinette squirm in her seat. She raised a finger to her lips, mirth sparkled in her eyes.

"That's for me to know and you to figure out Little Lady," she said, her voice teasing.

Little Lady.

Marinette froze in her seat, Little Lady, a sudden feeling of dread and horror seized her. Looking up with wide eyes Marinette once again spotted the knowing look in her eyes. She took a ragged breath.

"Why did you want to meet me," she said breathlessly, fists opening and closing in her lap nervously. Catrina smiled again. 

"You just seem like a nice girl, that's all," Marinette eyed her suspiciously, "So, what's got you down if I may ask?"

Marinette sighed through her nose ruefully, " too much to think and not enough to talk about I'm afraid." Earning a chuckle from Catrina.

"Aren't they all like that? Well, whatever happened is done. And if there is nothing you can do to fix it then you going to have to move on is the hard truth of the matter," she said, cheerful demeanor was gone.

A chill went down Marinette's spine at the oddly specific advice. 

Catrina smiled at Marinette one last time before saying her goodbyes and leaving.

Adrien was flabbergasted at Marinette. 

Sweet kind stuttery Marinette would bend over backward for her friends. 

She had grabbed his bottle, threw it at Lila and left. Granted, Adrien was right about to yell at her, finally sick of her lies. But why would Marinette know she's lying? And if she wasn't mad at Lilas lies than what? Adrien had practically made an art of blocking out the classes whispers. They seemed so loud, every cruel comment and every backhanded comment. He understood that what she did was a bit rash and rude but the things Lila had said afterward had Adrien boiling in his seat wishing he had gotten to it first.

"Oh Adrien," Lila draped herself on his arm dramatically when he got up to go to lunch much to his disgust.

"Did you see what Marinette did to me," she sniffled.

Adrien glared daggers at her.

"Get the hell off me, Lila," he growled pulling his arm roughly from her grasp much to everyone's shock.

He was done not doing anything, she hadn't gotten better at all. In fact, she had gotten worse and mocking Rosetta's death was the final straw.

"That was harsh Adrien. What's up with you, I thought you and Lila were on good terms," said Alya.

"For a journalist, you aren't very insightful," Adrien said coldly, glaring at everyone in his way to the door.

They were all idiots. Every last one of them, including him.

"Where are you going in such a rush dude," asked Nino, who had tried to fill the soundless void. "To find Marinette."

Chapter Text

Marinette held her breath as the clicking of Catrina's cane dimmed with the distance. Terror and curiosity swirled in her mind as her grip on the macaroon tightened unconsciously. "Marinette," Tikkis voice called, sounding scandalized. Marinette peered down in her hand where the crumbs of the macaroon lay as well as a slip of paper. Marinette blinked once as she scanned it. 

__

What’s new pussycat Speech: Catrina Ross Smith ( 2004 )

Hope you can bare subtitles.

-C.

__

Marinette stared at the paper in puzzlement. What does that mean? She thought to herself.

“Tikki,” she asked, “What do you think this is?” The god floated from Marinette bag to study the paper, a glint of sadness shone in her blue eyes that baffled Marinette. After a moment her antennas perked up as if she had a realization. She spun around to face the noirette, a dazzling smile set on her face.

“I think it might be a video title,” she announced proudly.

Marinette raised a skeptical eyebrow at the declaration but nonetheless pulled out her phone and clicked onto Youtube. She typed the bolded words into the search bar only half expecting something to come up. To her surprise a video popped up, Marinette ignored the smug look Tikki gave her and pulled out her earbuds, offering one to the god. The video was in English which Marinette didn’t know rather than a few basic conversation starters and such. “ Hope you can bear subtitles. ”

She rolled her eyes at the message but clicked them on nonetheless.

The video showed a wide-open field with a stone stage in the center, on the stage was a single podium that seemed small in the vastness of the outdoor theater. Hundreds of people sat on blankets or lawn chairs at the foot of the stage. A single woman walked onto the stage with a cane in hand and the camera zoomed into to show Catrina. 

She was wearing the same leather jacket over a dark red shirt and jeans and she leaned on the same cane. Her hair was pulled into an artful braid that cascaded down her back revealing a face that looked around 15 years younger but had the same bittersweet turquoise eyes that Marinette saw only moments ago. 

Limping onto the podium a cheer went through the crowd as she smiled and waved, “Hello everyone and thank you for coming,” her voice rang through the field, drawing whistles and cheers from the audience. 

She leaned heavily on the cane as she spoke.

“For anyone who doesn’t know, my name is Catrina Ross Smith. And I’m not here to give an empowering speech or inspire anyone,” Marinette raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t linger.  

“I’m here to tell you the story of how I fell comically in love with a Mob bosses daughter,” this earned a couple of gasps and chuckles from the crowd.

Catrina smiled widely before continuing, “ I’m not kidding, that silly crush of mine nearly got me killed.” 

Marinette’s lips twitched slightly at the comical thought of someone nearly dying for their crush. Then she thought of Chat Noir and her smile faltered.  

“I met Roxanna in 1957, I was sixteen at the time and the youngest child in my family as well as the only girl. By the time I was 14 all of my brothers had gone off and gotten married. So there I was, a small preppy blonde with her hair in a high ponytail with an ascot and high waisted skirt coming back home from the diner I was working at,” she smiled slightly and adjusted the microphone.

Marinette couldn’t imagine Catrina as a teenager, it just didn’t seem right. She couldn’t see her as anyone else but an old lady with sad eyes.

“So I was walking home from my job when I heard the telltale signs of Greasers coming my way, and I, a tiny 16-year-old prep was about to meet them head-on. So I did the only thing I could and ducked into an ally way to avoid them,” a few mutters broke out from the crowd and Catrina shook her head. 

“That was a bad idea because once I got there I found a bunch of bullet shells littering the ground and at least twenty bullet holes all over the place and I had a distinct feeling that I was being watched. So I only stuck around till the car’s passed then I left.” 

Marinette could feel a ‘but’ coming.

“But, I was always a curious and stupid kid, a very dangerous combination,” Catrina sighed as if exasperated with her old self even though there was a small smile on her face.

“So I went back to the ally way, again, dumb move. Once I got there I saw a tall figure in the shadows and I froze, terrified. I’m still not sure if I was more or less scared when she stepped out of the shadows. Roxanna was by no means a normal girl, she was tall, first of all, around 5’9. And her hair was almost as short as a boy. Framing her face with natural wine red curls. But the strangest and by far the scariest thing about her was her eyes, they were the color of dried blood. Not to mention the twin pistols at her hips,” the wind seemed to brush against the willow trees around her and they seemed to cry as Catrina spoke. 

“I thought I was face to face with the devil in black leather. Because the fact that she was wearing a leather jacket, leather gloves, leather pants, and leather boots did not make her any more inviting,” Catrina shrugged.

“I want to say that it was love at first sight but to be frank I nearly shit myself,” she chuckled along with the audience.

“I will never forget the first words she said to me in her ridiculously ‘New York’ accent: ‘Either you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ or you’re one hell of a dumbass.’ Of course, I was still terrified so I didn’t say anything and we just stood there for a minute before she snapped in front of my eyes, looking confused and uncomfortable. That snapped me out of my horror induced trance and I absolutely booked it out of there.”

She put a hand on her hip.

“By no means am I a religious person but I was singing prayers the whole way home. I had nightmares of those eyes for a week. But sooner than I’d like to admit that terror was replaced by curiosity.”

“And once that seed had been planted I went on to steal some of my brother's old clothes and stuffed them in my bag when I headed for work. I shoved all my hair in my dad’s old fedora and put on a button-up, jacket and a pair of pants that were all way too big for me. I went back to the ally way, the thought that maybe she wouldn’t come back hadn’t even crossed my mind till I had sat there for about three hours like a moron,” a couple of chuckles from the audience and Catrina smiled.

“I can’t say that I wasn’t at least a little relieved that she didn’t show up but none the less I tried again the next day, then again the day afterward. On the last day I was there I smelled the smoke before I saw her.”

Catrina took a deep breath as if imagining the feeling of the smoke filling her lungs.

“It was almost like she was summoned, she stepped out of the shadows again, this time cigarette in hand."

"Don't smoke kids," she added in quickly.

"She looked down her nose at me with her scary red eyes. I really didn’t think she would come, all the things I had planned to say to her left me in an instant. She stared at me for a moment longer before sighing dramatically. ‘It seems we are at an impasse, now aren’t we Dovey? Don’t come back, you’ll end up dead, then who’s gonna pass out milkshakes?’”

Catrina’s voice lowered and took an accent as she said the words, her voice came out gravely and condescending.

Marinette heard soft sniffs from her bag and knew that Tikki was crying. But she didn’t understand why. Her gaze softened as it rested on the small god.  She didn’t understand who Catrina or Roxanna where 0r what they meant to her. Although Marinette was skeptical that someone like Tikki would befriend a person who wore all black leather ( that rang a bell with Marinette but she couldn’t fathom why ) or smoked. So she kept quiet, ever aware of the small sobs. 

“Of course, the first thing I did was completely ignore the warning and the jib in favor of denying that I, a tiny blonde drowning in men's clothes would not stand being called ‘Dovey’. Unsurprisingly, when I did she just deadpanned me for a moment before telling me to go home.”

“And I did,” Catrina said briskly.

Marinette's eyebrows went up at the blunt declination. 

“I was dumb and curious but I wasn’t curious enough to stick my nose in things that could potentially get me brutally murdered. Of course, the red-eyed girl was always on my mind but I overpowered the image of her eyes with the sound of her warning. And for a time it worked.”

Catrina paused dramatically.

“Until one day she showed up at my door in broad daylight wearing the same get up. She told me that because of my visits to the ally way I had been pinned as a confidant and targeted,” she said matter of factly, gasps peppered the audience at the shocking information. 

“She said that she could put a casual guard on me but other than that she couldn’t do much unless I joined the fight or left New York. And at the time I was simply a sixteen-year-old girl with a dead mom and a dad who spent all of his time at work. There was the option that I could move in with one of my brothers if they’d let me but I didn’t want to leave New York so I decided that I would join the Mafia. Consequences be damned.”

She grinned then added, “Too bad I was completely incompetent. Even so, Roxanna gave me work and a lot of it. I had to quit my job at the diner because the gang had become my full-time job. I found out soon enough that Roxanna was the boss's daughter and one of the most important members of the Mafia because of her vast knowledge of history as well as her cunning and charm.”

Catrina’s voice was filled with admiration and love as she spoke.

Marinette's heart clenched painfully at the heartfelt words, from what she had gathered it seemed that Roxanna had died sometime in the past. She couldn’t imagine the pain and heartache of having someone you love leave. 

“The 1950’s where both a sexist and a racist time in America but she did not let being a woman or a person of color stop her from becoming one of the most feared and respected people in the underworld. She would stand nothing less than absolute equality and tore down everyone in her path. She was a warrior in both words and weapons.”

Her eyes refocused on the crowd as she continued to share her tale. 

“Because she was the reason I was dragged into the Mafia it was only fair that I was her responsibility and hers alone. I knew that she resented me for a time but even so she was charming and flirtatious to the point where I think it was her goal to make me as red as she could as long as she could,” she smiled and rolled her eyes playfully.

“It came to the point where she’d call me the Ladybug to her Black Cat. What was the most interesting part of it was that we fit the rolls so well, I was always cheerful and befriended everyone I could while Roxanna was always detached to some degree. Most people either didn’t like her because of her arrogance or were afraid of her because of the dark and graceful aura that seemed to follow her. Most of the time when she smiled it was cruel or smug. It seemed my cheeriness was the only thing that could counteract it.”

And suddenly it all made sense to Marinette. Tikkis tears, the knowing look in Catrina’s eyes. It was so clear she could smack herself for not seeing it sooner. Catrina and Roxanna were the last Ladybug and Chat Noir. It was so obvious now that she knew, Little Lady. Marinette realized with a start that Roxanna was Catrina’s Chat Noir. She felt something claw at her heart with the thought of losing her Chat. 

“It didn’t take long for me to fall hopelessly in love with her. And the more I learned about her the less I thought I knew. She was like a painting to me, every stroke of a brush was something that made her so beautiful. And she was a beauty that was like a broken mirror to the world, so real but untouchable. I wanted to know her inside out. She seemed so far away even though we saw each other every day,” the anguish and adoration in Catrina’s voice made Made Marinette's eyes burn with unshed tears. 

Something about her words wedged themselves in her heart and lingered such sadness but at the same time so wistful. 

“I can’t speak for her but I guess something about me made her resentment grow into something like love. After around seven months of knowing each other, she kissed me, I was newly seventeen and she was eighteen. We didn’t go on dates, I guess we didn’t have the time or it just didn’t fit us. I thought we had time, to be honest. I thought we had all the time in the world but I guess that she was more of a realist than I ever will be. Only years later did I realize that Roxanna knew we didn’t have time. And she was right. Around a year later she gave me a ring. It wasn’t any huge romantic gesture, she just gave it to me and I said yes,” Catrina fiddled with the ring on her finger, the same ring that Marinette had seen still sitting on said finger today. 

“We signed the papers and that was it. No wedding, just papers. Around four months later she went to a meeting somewhere. And she didn’t come back, I only knew what had happened to her when they wheeled her body into the camp and her father unzipped the bag,” Gasps and a couple of screams sounded from the crowd but she kept her face skillfully devoid of emotions.

“It turned out that she was thrown out of a top floor window after being drugged. She died on impact and a family found her and called the police who wrote it off as a suicide and gave the body back to her father. She died in 1959. I stayed long enough for the funeral and then left to live with my brother in California.”

Marinette stared at the screen. Nineteen was so young. She could hardly believe it, Catrina lived 60 years without her other half. The concept was so close yet so far it was bizarre. How could she just leave? She thought. 

“I tried to forget about Roxanna but all I did was shove away from her memories in a box and ignore them. No matter how much I wanted to forget I never took off my ring. And it was only in 1965 that I went back,” the camera zoomed in on some of the audience, some people were crying and others looked upon the stage with sadness and pity lining their faces. 

“I realized my mistake when the song ‘What’s New Pussycat’ by Tom Jones came onto the radio. When I heard the song I thought how much Roxanna would have loved that song if she were around. And that was the moment I realized I abandoned her by free will. She left the world suddenly and unwillingly and I left her behind like a mistake. That day I packed my things and headed back to New York as fast as I possibly could. The first thing I did was go to her grave and apologize. I reconnected with my friends and we talked over drinks about the old times.”

She smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I made my life back in New York. I became a women's rights activist and lived out my days helping make a world where girls can grow up to be strong and clever. Just like the girl that inspired me.”

Catrina cleared her throat and put down her notes.

“Thank you all for coming and listening.”

The crowd erupts in cheers and the video cuts out.  

Marinette stared dumbly at the black screen then pulled out her earbud.

“Tikki,” she starts, only to be cut off.

“Marinette,” Adrien’s voice called from afar. 

She whipped around, bluebell eyes frantically searching for the blond boy. She spotted him waving in the distance and coming closer. She gracelessly shoved her phone and earbuds into her bag and looked up at him again.

Did he come looking for me? A hopeful part of herself thought. You smashed his water bottle, he’s probably pissed. Corrected the other part.

Her cheeks flushed red with shame as she suddenly remembers the water bottle that she carelessly smashed on the ground. It was too late to run, he was around ten feet away from her.

“I was looking for you,” he panted.

“I’m so sorry for smashing your bottle, Adrien! I’ll buy you a new one I promise, it was so rude of me I’m so sorry,” she rambled at the boy, guilt flooded through her freely.

Adrien smiled warmly at her, “I should be the one apologizing, I let Lila be a bitch in hopes that she would change. I was a pushover and a bad friend and I let her hurt you. I’m so sorry Marinette. Will you ever forgive me?”

Marinette stared at him dumbly for a moment, he squirmed under her gaze. Guilt pooled in his green eyes and his words were filled with genuine remorse. 

She shook her head slightly and gave him a small smile, “I’ll admit that what you did was wrong and hurtful,” Adrien seemed to deflate, “BUT, I forgive you. You saw your mistake and are taking strides to correct it.” She smiled and him and he beamed back. 

“I can’t believe that someone would stoop to lying about a great tragedy in order to get attention. The sheer disregard for basic human rights is beyond me,” said Adrien, his expression was pained.

Marinette nodded her head in agreement.

“I did my research on the casualties and I know for a fact that Lila didn’t know a single one of them,” said Marinette.

Adrien nodded and sat down next to her. 

They sat in together without talking, both trapped in thought.

https://www.pinterest.at/pin/862017184909532112/

Really really really rough 3:30 a.m Roxanna sketch.

Chapter Text

Gabriel twirled his wine glass and watched as the crimson liquid created a vortex in the crystal glass. There was a beauty to the color red, the color of passion and love. It was also the color of anger and blood. He sighed through his nose and took a large swig from the glass, draining half of it. It seemed that Gabriel would do the same thing every night, stare into a glass of alcohol or such and let the burning of it replace the guilt. Guilt was a pesky emotion. One he had learned through time to surpass and forget, there was always some justice that he could take solace in for his actions. But it seemed no matter how hard he tried to muffle his emotions they still clung to him like strings on a puppet. 

Making him dance with ever jerk and tug. 

Sometimes they would make him dance and others they would make him crash. He prided himself on being stoic and distant. But that night he had lost all his composure. It was not only his emotions but the ones of the akuma that flooded through the bond they shared. It was unlike any other time, for this time the akuma was not purified but destroyed. When the akuma was purified the negative emotions as well as the bond that they shared. But this akuma was killed during the blast; fear, despair, shock, agony all pulsed overwhelmingly then it was blank. He scarcely had time to drop his transformation before he threw up. That night he drank himself into a stupor, consequences be damned. 

In the midst of that night, drunk on sorrow and liquor he contemplated quitting the fight. Gabriel always ignored the little voice in his head that asked him what Emillie would think of what he’s done. But because of the Lucky Charm the idea was nothing more than a fleeting thought. After all, nothing changed in the end. It seemed that subconsciously he had come to rely on Ladybugs success. It set all back as it should be and everyone went on with their days, nothing but videos and pictures to show that it ever really happened. But now things were different, not all had gone back to how it should be. Blood had been spilled and it now stained his hands, no magic could clean it off. Blood spilled because of his goal, but was what he was doing so wrong? All he wanted was his love back, his wife, the mother of his child. His sweet Emillie. Would she still love him knowing what he’s done? 

As long as don’t give up hope I can see for myself.

A selfish part of himself whispered. 

It would be a waste of their lives if he had simply given up, he decided. All of the work, all of the suffering, all of the death would have been for naught. He owed it to his family and the people he wronged to continue. He owed it to his wife.

A faint part of himself whisper to stop the madness.

He drowned the thought with the last of the bottle.

Guilt has always been a pesky emotion.

Adrien hung his head low as he felt Natalies dark gaze bore into him. He knew that ditching class, no matter how noble the reason, would not go unnoticed. The tense silence that hung in the car was a testament to that. 

“Your father will see you tonight to speak about the call that we got from your school,” Natalies voice was cold and distant but he could see the glint of pity that shone behind her glasses.

Adrien nodded his head solemnly and let his gaze flutter over the passing shapes of the road. This week had been, for lack of better terms, sobering. He had come to a couple of startling and frankly embarrassing conclusions. One of which is that he never really took being Chat Noir all that seriously, to Adrien Chat Noir had been a privilege. The feeling of wind against his face and the taste of freedom on his tongue was exhilarating. He could get drunk on in and dance across the rooftops giddly, a stupid pun and desprate flirt always shaping his lips. Chat Noir had never been a job for him, it was stupid. Always high on the smell of Vanilla that came from Ladybug he never noticed the weight on Paris on his shoulders. 

But now he did, the weight of 2 million lives seemed to sit on his lungs. Sometimes he couldn’t breath, Adrien didn’t know how Plagg could possibly be so whole. It was just so far beyond Adrien it was almost unfathomable. So much death that followed the god of misfortune. It made his throat constrict painfully. Adrien could only remember one time that he heard of Plaggs past. It was murmurs and whispers that the god had mutter to Adrien when he was sick with an awful fever. 

Adrien couldn’t remember much but the things that Plagg said where spoken with such sorrow. 

“Always smirking-

She had an absent mother too…

Moonlight motorcycle rides used to be our favorite thing to do together. We never spoke on those. 

She’d always say the job would kill her first-

Her hair was so curly, I’d always pull on the curls and watch them bounce.

Kind of an asshole…”

Only fragments of a whole picture, but it was obvious that the god loved this girl whoever she was. Something told Adrien it was because they were so similar. It never really resonated till now that there where Chat Noir’s before him and there would be ones after him. He was just one of the many, another charge under Plaggs belt. Maybe when Adrien died and Plagg was passed on he would tell stories of him. Would there be a piece of Adrien that would stay with Plagg or would he just be another face faded in time?

It was time to put away his childish antics and wishes. No matter the fact that he was clad in a magical leather suit, underneath all of the bravo and magic he was nothing more than a boy with a duty to a city. At the end of the day Adrien has been and always will be a mortal, nothing less, nothing more.

He walked through the halls of the mansions like a phantom, treading without a sound to his room. Talking with Marinette had been refreshing in itself but the weight of his father’s impending judgment seemed to cast away any of the calm that the noirette had brought with her soft voice and kind eyes. He regretted that he had driven her away, he regretted the fact that she spent more time with Luka than with Alya or Nino. But there was a soul draining exhaustion that seemed to wither him from the inside. 

He let himself fall onto the bed and closed his eyes letting the darkness take him.    

The first thing Adrien noticed was the smell of saltwater that lingered in the breeze. Then the feeling of grass under his fingers and the warmth of the sun against his face. 

The next thing he noticed was the feeling of being watched and the sound of boots crushing grass. 

Boot that are attached to legs that are attached to a person.

A person who was coming at him too quickly to be casual.

Adrien’s eyes snapped open and he scrambled to pull himself off the ground.  He was graclessly pulled up by his collar by the person. The one who had him pinned against a tree, her gloved knuckles shoving into his throat was a woman. She only looks a few years older than he, and an inch taller. Her head was covered in loose deep red curls that glowed the color of wine in the sunlight, adorning her head was a pair of leather cat eats that where pinned back. Unlike his costume, there was no mask to frame her bright red cat eyes. Her lips were pulled into a smirk like sneer. 

“You better not disappear again,” she growled at him in english.

Fear coursed through him, he shook his head ‘okay’. And she let him go, his hand flew to his throat and he sent a glare her way. 

She was clad in a leather jacket, leather pants, leather boots and a black turtleneck shirt that covered everything but her face and some of her neck. Around her hips was a holster with two pistols in them and a seeming strip of leather that trailed down her back and brushed the floor not unlike a tail. 

“Who are you,” he rasped in english. 

She stared down at him coldly.

“My name is Roxanna Smith and I was the Black Cat before you,” Adrien's eyes widened, she was so young. Too young to make sense. Where were they? What was this place? What in fucks name is happening?

“Can you explain,” he tried, his english wasn’t very good. It was rough and unpracticed. 

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Let’s get one thing out of the way, I’m dead.”

Adrien gasped and choked, sputtering and coughing as he looked at the strange woman with wide green eyes.

“I’ve been dead for sixty years give or take a month or two now. I worked in America, New York City to be exact. I’ve also been watching over you along with the rest of the Chat Noir’s. Because I’m the one who is closest to age to you when I died and I’m the most acquainted to the modern world,” she stuck out her hand for him but he got up himself.

“My english isn’t very good, I can not understand,” he said meekly, as if embarrassed.

She stared at him for a moment before nodding her head.

“My bad,” she said in perfect French.

Adrien sent her a deadpan look as she repeated what she said in french.

    “Come with me,” she said as she began to walk away, leaving Adrien with no choice but to follow. 

She lightly padded across the grass, making no sound as she gracefully jumped over a fence. She landed silently on the rocks that border between the ocean water and the land. She sat down and waited as Adrien followed in her footsteps, admittedly more clumsily. 

She pulled out a cigarette, pointedly ignoring the look of disgust Adrien sent her. 

“You know,” she started, looking down at the cig that rested between her fingers, “When I was Chat Noir I’d always tell Plagg that the job would kill me far before these would.” 

Her eyes filling with remorse but a small smile still played on her lips, “It took me around 20 years to realize those words must have been the most hurtful thing I had ever said to him.” 

She took a long drag from it, letting the smoke rise from her lips as her eyes trained on Adrien.

He squirmed under her crimson gaze, his mind scrambled to find something to fill the void.

“How long have I been here,” he asked, partly from curiosity and partly from fear.

“What if my dad wants to see me,” he thought, dread building in his stomach.

“Don’t worry, we are in a sort of a time paradox here. As far as the real world is concerned, your head has only just hit the pillow.”

Adrien didn’t know what to say, it was all so bizarre. He was talking to a dead superhero from New York in the 1950’s. He didn’t let himself linger at the sheer insanity of the whole ordeal. 

“Why are you coming to me now,” he asked.

“It seems that I get one chance to meddle with fate and this time around I’m taking it.”

Adrien didn’t know what she meant by that but kept silent.

“That means I can only see you once, and there are a couple of things you need to know,” she took a deep breath through her nose.

“First of all, you can’t save everyone.”

Adrien’s heart stuttered, he looked at her, shock and fear brimming in his green eyes.

“Isn't it a hero’s duty to save everyone,” he ventured, it didn’t make sense for it to be any other way.

She sent him a rueful look, “with age you’ll come to understand that saving the day isn’t what heros are for. Our job is to build the future.”

He didn’t know what she meant but had a feeling he wouldn’t find out from her. 

“Second of all,  you and Ladybug are equals, without destruction creation would ruin the world. You need to understand that. I’ve seen you, Adrien. You throw yourself in danger to take a hit instead of helping her avoid it. If the balance is upset there is no Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Adrien bristled at the accusation and tried to spit something back, only to realize that she was right. No matter how many times Ladybug had said they where a team he’d always ignored her and was content being a shadow. 

She stared at him for a moment, chewing her bottom lip, as if deciding if she wanted to tell him something. 

After a long moment she heaved a sigh and mumbled something to herself in English.

“Last and most importantly, Hawkmoth is much closer than the pu think he is Adrien.  You need to open your eyes.”

Roxanna's face was hard and unreadable, her eyes were hollow. Each word weighed down on him like a brick of lead. 

What does that mean, he wanted to say but his voice didn’t come out. He shouted it again and again as something seemed to shift, Roxanna’s image became further and further away, replacing her with endless white as the world collapsed on itself.

“Tell Plagg I say hello.”

Adrien bolted upright in bed so quickly he bounced off it and onto the floor, his body shook all over and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“What does it mean,” he whispered, clutching his head.

“What does it all mean?!” 

Felt like curling up in a ball and crying, it was too much. Too much at once, he didn’t know what to do, a dead person spoke to him for God's sake! Adrien knew now that he was way in over his head, for a fleeting moment he wished he had never touched the ring.  But the thought passed and he got up, briskly passing Plagg and turning to the showers. 

He stood there for a time, focusing on nothing but the beating of warm water down his body, nothing more could be done in that very moment then to simply let the water fall down. 

The rest of the day was a blur of homework and music, the notes slurred into words and the letters into numbers as time passed. Even his father’s words seemed to pass through him as if he were nothing but air. 

The words seemed distant in his mouth as he called for his transformation, his vision unfocused as he bounded across the rooftops. His body was set on auto-pilot, he set himself down on their meeting spot and stared at the horizon unseeing. 

Even when Ladybug came to sit beside him her words were muffled by the cotton that seemed to replace his brain. Even her touch on his shoulder felt fake, he wanted to talk to her, he did but there was nothing left of Chat Noir. So he watched as if from a screen as Ladybug became more and more worried. 

Something became louder and louder in the background, he could vaguely understand that it was her voice. 

Only a sharp pain brought him back.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And his hand went to his face were Ladybug had slapped him, his eyes were wide.

He looked up at her, her face was one filled with relief and guilt, her hand was still raised. 

“You hit me,” he said blankly.

“You weren’t responding, I was afraid something happened,” she accused, tears seemed to brim her eyes as she looked at him.

He looked away, not willing to respond. 

“What’s wrong with you Chat,” she asked, she grabbed his head in her hands and turned it, green eyes meeting worried blue ones.

“I’ve just come back from a meeting with a dead person you tell me,” he said.

She stared at him as if he had grown a third head. Then barked a laugh.

“At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” she said, her voice was filled with joyless humor. 

“After all, I just met the Ladybug before me and turns out that her Chat Noir died many years and she lived. So by all means, do tell about your little Parnorman moment.”

Chat Noir spun around so quickly his head spun, he grabbed Ladybugs shoulders tightly. His eyes were wide.

“Do you know who Roxanna Smith is,” he barked at her, her face was slack with shock.

“She was the last Chat Noir,” she said quietly. 

He let the girl go with a spout of hysterical laughter, “Oh this is too good, I met a dead girl and you met her wife. Oh this is just cosmic comedy gold right there.” 

The smile that was on Chat’s face was feral. 

“I’m getting advice from a dead girl and your getting advice from a 70 year old lady! How things have spiraled. And do you know what else? She told me that Hawkmoth is near, not near to Chat Noir, but near to the person underneath.” 

He laughed harder as Ladybug backed away from him.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? BECAUSE I SURE DON’T!” 

“Chat calm down.”

His laughing became harder and more pained, when his eye caught hers the pain and fear that filled them made her shutter. 

“I can’t breath,” he wheezed, folding over and clutching his sides. 

“Chat, oh my god Chat please calm down!”

Her please fell empty to his ears as his lungs began to burn.

“ Please. ”

Then there was dark.