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Alarm. Stretch. Shower. Clothes. Coffee. Car.
Adrien shifted in his seat, taking care not to spill his coffee on his jeans. It was the same routine almost every morning - his bodyguard always seeming to know exactly where he had to be. The coffee was too cold, but at least it offered a little warmth to start the day. His body had long since ceased to function on caffeine, but Adrien drank it anyway. Maybe it was the idea that coffee somehow indicated the arrival of adulthood.
The grey sky outside the car window reflected his mood - grey and dismal. He’d better pretend to change that soon or he’d get a stern look of disapproval from his father. A look that still made Adrien’s skin clammy and teeth grit. But maybe that would break up some of the monotony of his life.
Leaving the coffee cup in the car, he stepped out to the location of the day, closing the door behind him with more force than he needed.
Hair. Makeup. Clothing change. Pose. Switch positions. Pose. Try to look happy.
The problem was, Adrien Agreste wasn’t happy. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful for his life- he knew he lived a privileged life with wealth, fame, and beauty. But it was hollow and lonely. Sure, he could practically have any woman he wanted whenever he wanted - but he didn’t. The only woman in the world he wanted to be with had vanished, leaving a gaping hole in his heart that he didn’t think would ever be repaired.
Lunch. Calorie Check. Weights. Lunge. Parry.
Kagami had once tried to push a relationship on him but it had never really worked out. Not while his heart belonged to another. Not even now. Instead, Kagami was the bright spot in the dullness of his day - taking time to fence with him long after competitions were a requirement by either of their parents. Now it was just part of the fitness regime and a personal challenge to best each other. Kagami usually won, despite Adrien’s sincere attempts otherwise, laughing as she found an unguarded spot to press the point of her steel.
Shower. Suit. Office. Emails.
Typically, his afternoons allowed him to complete his required work at Gabriel . Mind numbing things like answering emails about things he didn’t really care about, meeting with his generally disapproving father, and any other tasks on the list. He didn’t want to be there. Didn’t want to be the face and heir to the fashion company that he didn’t even care one whit about. But it was all he had and it was something to fill the time.
Empty time to think was the worst. Memories seeped into any moment he wasn’t busy. Memories of a girl with pigtails and a red-spotted suit. Memories of a woman with blue eyes and macrons. Of a floating cat with a cheese addiction. Memories that left a painful throb in his chest and a catch in his throat. He only allowed himself to rub the emptiness of his finger for a moment before forcing his brain to go numb and answer another stupid email.
Car. Supper. Run.
The only time in the day of his own - truly his own - was when the sun was sinking deep into the horizon and he could run. It wasn’t the same as rooftops but it was as close as he could get, freely racing through the streets of Paris with music blasting in his ears to block out any unwanted thoughts. At least, until the bakery came into view. His legs fumbled to a stall as he stared at the elegant font on black signs, breathing hard. Unwillingly, his feet were at the entrance, hand pushing the door open, the tinkle of the bell startling him to reality.
The petite woman behind the counter looked surprised to see him as well, the smile on her face turning from welcoming to pained as she shook her head in silence. Of course not. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
His eyes turned to the door at the back of the shop, the question asked without a word and Sabine nodded, her features so like her daughter’s that for a blurred moment it left him confused. Blinking to clear his vision, he bowed in thanks before slipping through the door.
He climbed the stairs to their apartment, arguing with himself about this choice, knowing he would regret it but unable to stop. It was the same, the warmth of life still smacking him in the face as he pushed the door open. Even with her gone, it felt like home.
They’d left her room untouched as a sign of hope. Pink and soft, even now her scent lingered despite the swirling of dust. Her chair. Her mannequin. Her sewing corner. Her bed. He couldn’t do this. He knew he couldn’t do this - the strength of his legs leaving him as a shaking crumpled pile on the floor of her room.
Cry.
Her mother found him, arms encircling him in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. A mother’s love. She didn’t need to ask questions. She just knew. How could her heart take the emptiness? He might never be as strong as her.
“She’ll be ok, Adrien. We have to believe it.”
Dream.
His apartment was hollow. Simply an empty shell that served its purpose. It would never feel like home now. Never with her gone.
Desperate for sleep to take him, the pills went down quickly, the promise of nothing ascending as he settled beneath the covers.
It rarely did - twisted dreams of chaotic memories making his sleep fitful.
Freedom. Memories of the past, running over the Paris rooftops in the twilight. The view from the Eiffel Tower. The Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous voluntarily sitting in Ladybug’s hands, delivered anonymously by one last akuma, leaving them both surprised at the sudden and unexpected twist of events. Their reveal to each other - her mask melting away to show him her beautiful face and her look of shock as she discovered his own. Kisses and laughter and a different ring. One that sparkled with diamonds just for her. Sudden and frantic desperation - tears on her face and panic in her voice as she pleaded for his co-operation. The emptiness on his finger that once carried the weight of destruction. Her being gone without a trace.
Waking up with a start, he breathed deeply to try and calm the irrational galloping of his heart while he dug his fingers into his hair. She was gone and he was left helpless to find her. A civilian instead of a superhero.
Not even the slue of private investigators or frantic trips to possible sighting locations found her. She had vanished into thin air along with the miracle box. Her duty as Guardian, she’d whispered through the streams of tears, kissing him goodbye before he had even realized her plans.
He wouldn’t sleep anymore tonight - flopping back to stare at the darkness of the ceiling in aching loneliness.
Rinse. Repeat.
It was easiest to live in mindless monotony. Turn off the brain, go through the motions, be disconnected from everyone and everything as much as possible. So he did. Each day the same basic schedule. Each day an attempt to avoid memories and the questions that dragged at the corners of his brain.
Sometimes, his evenings involved something different than running or mindless television or killing things in a game. Sometimes, he forced himself to get dressed and socialize - whether at an event for Gabriel or to see Nino.
Parties were easy. All he had to do was plaster on the fake smile and make the rounds. A carefully auto-piloted version of himself.
Seeing friends typically left him emotionally drained, especially when Nino brought Alya along. He couldn’t take the questioning or the reports of leads that Alya thought she had on Marinette. Three years and the woman wouldn’t let it go. He supposed that’s why Alya was so successful as a reporter - her unyielding determination. She kept on hoping. But, for him, it was gone.
Sometimes, his father sent him off to the world, ruining his routine and carefully numbed life. His father never seemed to care about Marinette’s mysterious disappearance. Instead, his father had pushed Adrien into the business, keeping him busy. In some way, Adrien supposed, it had been his father’s way of helping.
So, to New York, Toronto, Berlin, London he went.
Walk. Smile. Walk. Pose. Outfit change.
Do his job. Represent the brand. It was easy enough. Mindless enough. Parties and networking to attend, he stared at the bubbling golden liquid in the tall glass between his fingers with a mixture of disgust and desire.
He’d tried that before.
It hadn’t ended well.
The poor young girl he’d chased down in the drunken belief that she was Marinette was likely haunted for life by his screaming and flailing. No amount of apology could make up for that. It had taught him two valuable lessons.
One - stop drinking.
Two - stop looking for her in every face.
So, he held the flute of champagne with casual obligation instead of desperate hollowness.
When the chaos of the fashion work died down for the day, long after the sun had set and the sky was dark, he raced down the streets and let the freshness of the air burn his cheeks and fill his lungs. A new location sometimes helped clear his head because her memory wasn’t around every corner. He ran until he could barely move, dropping himself into bed exhausted - praying for a dreamless night.
Alarm. Stretch. Shower. Clothes. Coffee. Car.
Adrien stared at the coffee in his hand as the car lurched through the streets. Funny how his routines stayed the same even in other countries. His body felt heavier than usual - likely the aftermath of his parties and restless nights. Obligation to complete the tasks here in Shanghai before his late night boarding call home to Paris guided the day.
Hair. Makeup. Clothing change. Pose. Switch positions. Pose. Try to look happy.
More photo shoots. The city’s fashion school, a beautiful and abstract building, lent itself well to the academic attire he wore. God, he was getting tired of fake smiles and trying to pretend he was flirting with the women on his arm for photos. At least the makeup team made him look like he wasn’t the walking zombie he felt like.
On order of the photographer, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of the shirt before the hairstylist ruffled his hair. Keeping his eyes on the camera while the female models posed around him, he tried to look the roguish bit that the designer desired. Everyone seemed pleased with the results, sending him to relax for a bit before the next clothing change.
He needed more coffee. Following the signs on the walls to the cafe, he absently wondered if “Les Petits Temps Cafe” would have any Parisian style treats - like croissants - the thought flaring the constantly dull ache to a quick flame. No treats then. Just coffee. The girl behind the counter smiled shyly when she passed over a steaming cup.
Perched on a stool at a wooden table overlooking a large window to the bustling city of Shanghai, Adrien sipped the coffee with careful mindlessness. The heavy, dark clouds threatened rain.
Only a few more hours. Regretting that his phone remained with his discarded day clothes, he turned his attention to the patrons of the cafe to keep his mind distracted.
People bustled in and out, mostly students with bags thrown over their shoulders and books tucked into their arms as they chatted in various languages about projects and teachers. The girl behind the counter refilled the coffee machine while her co-worker, a single small-framed woman, trailed from table to table, cleaning up dishes and crumbs as people left.
Pushing himself to his feet, he scooped up his mug to bring it to her so she wouldn’t need to add more work to her day. She looked up at him in surprise when he spoke gently to ask where to place the dish.
Panic.
Wide blue eyes that he knew better than anyone else in the world stared at him in silence. He wondered if he was breathing. If SHE was breathing.
“Marinette.” Her name spilled unbidden from his lips. That seemed to wake her up, a blush tearing across her cheeks as she blinked and looked down at the mug he somehow still held on to.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I can take your cup from you.” Her voice nearly doubled him over, even when he realized she spoke fluent Mandarin. Her fingers grazed his hand while reaching for the mug, the spark from the brief touch jump starting his heart that had forgotten to work.
She shuffled away from him as quickly as she could, sliding behind the counter with her back to him. He didn’t know what to do, torn between the magnetic pull to hold her and being frozen in place. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, desperate for any sign of recognition. Streaked with a light tone, her hair reached nearly to her waist. It wasn’t unpleasant, just - different.
She intentionally faced away from him, chatting quietly with the other girl behind the counter in casual Mandarin before slipping through a doorway off to the side and vanishing.
“Marinette! Wait!” His voice was too loud, too desperate. His feet dragged his disconnected body to the counter, jumping over it like it was nothing. A shocked gasp from the other employee faded into the background as he threw himself through the doorway.
Scanning the kitchen, he panicked for a moment when he couldn’t find her. Had she escaped through another door? He couldn’t lose her again. He couldn’t. A ripple of uncontrolled panic flooded his system, leaving his heart in his throat and limbs quivering.
Then there she was. Hand on the handle of an oversized fridge, partially hidden behind its face.
“Marinette.” The knuckles of her hand grew white as she tightened her grip.
“Sir, you can’t be back here.”
He couldn’t stop himself anymore than rain can avoid gravity, his footsteps bringing him so close that he could feel the warmth of her prickle against his skin. Steeling himself to keep his hands at his side, he just breathed in the smell of the woman he had loved for ten long years, even when she’d disappeared.
She spun to face him, wide-eyed as he drank the sight of her in, memorizing every feature of her face, every freckle on her cheeks, every fleck in the brilliant blue of her eyes. How those eyes haunted his dreams. Eyes that now slammed shut, jaw tensing in a sign he long recognized as one she did before starting a difficult plan. Her hand reached up and clasped onto a necklace hanging under her shirt before she opened her eyes again.
“You need to leave. You cannot be here.”
He couldn’t understand what she meant, the words not settling into his head. He’d found her. After all this time. After all this hopelessness. He couldn’t leave. He simply stood there in front of her, unsure what to do. She was banishing him. Sending him away with no explanation.
“Why?”
Her eyes begged him in silence, making him step back a little.
“Please go.”
Voices called his name, asking him to back away from the cafe girl, trying to get him back to the photoshoot. Hands touched his arm, attempting to pull him away before he broke his arm free from the grasp.
“I can’t lose you again, Marinette. Please. Please!” More hands. Stronger ones. Pulling him backwards out of the room. Away from her. He tried to fight against them, knowing the struggling and shouting her name was drawing unwanted attention. Father would be angry. Adrien didn’t care.
Run. Scream.
Security threw him out, blocking his way back to her, carefully protected in her tower. She made him leave and he couldn’t understand why. The pain of rejection stabbed afresh, leaving his heart bleeding. He couldn’t stop the wave of tears that burnt his cheeks or the sobs that rattled his chest.
He ran through the streets in anger, letting the cold pellets of rain sting against his skin. Running felt like the only way to escape the pain - his brain swirling with memories and questions he didn’t know the answers to. Why? Why had she pretended she didn’t know him? Why had she banished him away?
Collapsing to his knees, he threw back his head and screamed into the storm. Screamed until he couldn’t any longer. Screamed until his voice gave out to nothingness, leaving him empty and raw. Slumping over, he let the rain wash down, focusing on the sensation of the droplets snaking their way down his skin. His hair plastered to his head, the products used in the morning shoot long since washed away. There was nothing left but emptiness.
Willing himself to disconnect again, to numb the feelings and shove them back into the nothing where they needed to be, he stared at the circles rippling from each raindrop as it hit the pavement in front of him.
At least he knew she was alive. She was safe. Maybe that could be enough. Maybe that was all he could ask for, even if every fiber of his being screamed otherwise. She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want him to know where she was. Could he honour that? He didn’t know.
“Adrien.”
If he’d been Chat just then, his cat ears would have flattened on his head as they twitched and strained to hear more clearly. Instead, he slowly lifted his eyes as he turned his head, not fully believing he’d actually heard her voice over the thundering sound of rainfall.
But there she stood, wrapped in a brilliant red raincoat, under an umbrella.
At first, he thought he was hallucinating - finally tipped over the edge of insanity. Or that, in this dreamscape, a whole new nightmare waited to tear a hole in his already damaged heart.
When she stretched out her hand, he took it, letting her guide him to his feet. Her head tipped back to look at him when she pulled him under the umbrella. They stood there for what might have been hours or moments, he didn't know. He felt himself dragged down into the depths of her eyes, drowning in her soul while rain splattered noisily on the canvas overhead.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know if she meant for today or for vanishing 3 years ago and breaking his heart into a million pieces. Part of him didn’t care. At least she was here now.
There was so much more to say. So many questions he needed to ask. Instead, he just stood there, under the umbrella, lost in her eyes and trying to ground himself into something real. Because this couldn’t be real.
"Come."
Blindly, he followed her, fingers interlaced with hers, certain that at any moment he would wake up and she would be gone again. He tightened his grip on her hand just in case it would keep her beside him longer.
Wait. Tea. Remember to breathe.
Her apartment was nothing more than a single room divided with a large closet wall between the bed and the one wall kitchen. She shooed him into the small bathroom with quiet orders to take off his dripping clothes, practically shoving her biggest and fluffiest towel into his hands.
The face reflected in the mirror seemed more real than the usual one. Haunted eyes peered back. Shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes, he tried to rub this away - this dream that he knew he had to wake up from before he fell further into darkness. It was too real here. The smell of her, the sounds of her rustling outside the bathroom door to make the promised drink of tea, the goosebumps on his skin that made him shiver slightly from the coldness of the air.
Reality hurt almost as badly as memories.
He stepped from the bathroom with caution, disbelief filling him as his eyes found her waiting.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any clothes that would fit you. Wrap yourself in the blanket on the bed for now.” She bustled by him, picking up his discarded clothes and throwing them into a dryer hidden behind a closet door. The soft, rhythmic thrum gave him something to focus on over the chaos of his thoughts and emotions.
He didn’t dare to speak, simply watching her move quickly through the small space to bring him tea. She’d changed into oversized comfortable clothes, her hair pulled into a ponytail behind her. Her ever-present earrings glinted as she turned.
Tea in hand, blanket curled around him like a cocoon, he sat on the opposite side of the small table from her and waited.
Listen.
He knew her. He knew the moment she allowed herself to speak that all the words would come tumbling out and she would tell him everything. A million emotions flew across her face - emotions he could recognize in an instant. He knew her.
Fear. Panic. Sadness. Worry. Determination.
Finally she jumped to her feet, arms flailing and words rushing out almost faster than he could understand.
Hawkmoth, it seemed, whoever he was, only returned his miraculous because he was afraid. Their celebration had been too soon, although it had given them time together. Time, she explained, she would never trade for anything.
A new threat had appeared. One that scared her to the core. One that Tikki panicked about. One that wanted the miraculous box and the two most powerful beings inside more than Hawkmoth ever had.
Fu had given Marinette the job of Guardian, a title she hated now for what it meant to her life. Fu told her to value the life she had - but what kind of life was this? Torn from the man she loved to protect the Miraculous? To protect him? How could she love life when it had become so hollow?
She’d been on the run, moving from place to place when this new threat found her. Only once had she faced the monster directly - a battle that left her injured and frantic to escape. She always said that she was nothing without her kitty by her side and that proved it. She needed him more than anything else.
Marinette’s voice broke as she explained how she wanted nothing more than to rush back to Paris and throw herself into his arms. How much she had needed him, but couldn’t let the monster find him. She spent 3 long, isolated years doing her job - guarding more than the miracle box. She’d been guarding him too.
Tikki stayed hidden all the time now, afraid to let any sign of her power or existence give away their location. The rest of the miraculous remained carefully protected in the box.
Finally, she collapsed back into the chair, spent of emotion other than the flow of tears that poured down her face.
Adrien just listened, unsure what to say or do that would make sense now. Her muffled sniffs. The drone of laundry. The surprisingly calm beating of his heart.
The tea in the mug between his fingers was still hot, warmth creeping up his arms as he simply stared unseeing. All their years as partners where it had been his job to protect his lady and she ran away to protect him. This was the true cost of life as a superhero - self-sacrifice.
“Where’s Plagg?”
She blinked at him, a small sign of hurt crossing her face at the first words he’d spoken to her since he’d been dragged from the school.
“Safe in the box.”
Adrien nodded, contemplating his next words carefully. His fingers sunk into his hair, still damp from rain.
“We’re supposed to be partners, you know. All those years ago, Fu chose us to be partners. I protect you. You protect me.” Her eyes were wide as she listened to the raspiness of his voice.
“I wanted to be partners in life, too, Marinette. I wanted us to share everything together. Everything. And you took it all from me and disappeared.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time, eyes on the tea that grew cold. The loud chime from the dryer stirred them both from their thoughts. Marinette moved, standing to put her mug on the counter before disappearing behind the wall. Adrien listened to her shuffle through the closet on the other side before she stood beside him again.
Grabbing his hand, she uncurled her fingers to drop something hard and cold into it, pressing her hand overtop.
“I’m sorry.”
Cry .
Plagg’s look of utter disapproval to Marinette followed by loud complaining about the lack of food conjured such an overwhelming sense of emotion that all Adrien could do was burst into tears. Too much, too fast. And yet, everything he desperately needed.
He clutched at her. It would take a long time to repair the wounds and scars, but he could start here.
“I’m sorry.” She wouldn’t stop saying it and he couldn’t stop her if he tried. He needed to hear that from her until it settled into the haunted memories of the last 3 years. “I shouldn’t have left you. I just didn’t want them to find you. If anything happened to you -” She didn’t need to finish that thought. He knew exactly what she meant.
Fear does crazy things to people. He knew that. But she didn’t need to be afraid or alone anymore. No more running and hiding. Time to be partners again.
“You and me against the world, Milady. Remember?”
Alarm. Stretch. Shower. Coffee. Subway.
Paris be damned, he was staying in Shanghai. His father’s sharp tone betrayed his anger, especially when Adrien couldn’t fully offer an explanation for his sudden decision nor for how long he would be gone.
Marinette insisted that they keep their distance in public - slipping her hand from his as they approached the train. It made him nervous every time, even when she agreed to let him trail behind and make sure she got to work safely. Even when she half-turned and soft-smiled as she went inside. Even when they walked home. Day after day.
Hide. Transform. Fight.
She was right to be scared, he thought as he wiped the blood from his lips. This…. thing…. was so much more dangerous than any akuma Hawkmoth had thrown at them. It was little more than a shadow, but the wounds torn through his suit claimed otherwise. Evil unlike any power he felt before oozed through the air, pulling the breath from his lungs and plunging his sight into darkness. Even Plagg was quivering under the surface, the feeling of destruction shifting beneath Adrien’s consciousness.
How could you stop something that was there but wasn’t?
Light searing through the dark burned against his retinas, scattering the heaviness from his lungs before his body crunched painfully against a wall. Blinking, he admired Ladybug’s new power.
The light beam tore through the darkness again, blasting from her yo-yo to send it cowering until the light faded. The moment the light disappeared, the thick black fog swirled around her, enveloping the woman in red.
His body screamed in agony even as his mind shouted her name and long before the cry of “LADYBUG” escaped his lips. She needed him.
Cataclysm .
It was all he had. A bubbling hand of annihilation stretching out to touch nothingness only to find it pressed hard against the light she shot from her yo-yo. Destruction and Creation together. The unexpected blast from their combined energy left him with barely a moment to connect eyes with hers before everything exploded around them.
Alarm. Stretch. Breathe.
Turning his head, Adrien looked at the space beside him. Marinette lay curled up tightly in a ball, the covers pulled almost over her head as she refused to let morning in. He couldn’t help but smile.
She was here. Nothing else mattered.
His ring sat with heavy comfort on his finger. The ring he’d given her now rested on her own instead of hidden on a necklace.
Beautiful colours of life replaced the hollow dullness of the apartment they called home. Smells of cookies and cheese combined with the inexplicable scent of her assaulted his nose. It was perfect. It was home.
His days might still be filled with the same photoshoots, fencing, emails, but now they offered promise. Running wasn’t an escape anymore. They did it together, footsteps on rooftops filled with laughter and games. Just like it used to be. Like it was meant to be.
Her smile emblazoned into his memories, every time the nightmare of finding her gone would seep into his dreams. She was here. She was happy. She was safe.
They could never seem to stop touching each other - hands always entwined together as if they could keep each other grounded.
Friends never rolled their eyes or made groans at the constant need for closeness. They understood. Her parents too. Likely because they wanted to hold their daughter and never let her go.
How many meals had been eaten at their house since Adrien personally escorted Marinette back to Paris? How many bone crunching hugs had they survived? How many hours of phone call conversations?
It didn’t matter. Every question, every hug, every phone call, every THING was worth it. Because she was here with him again.
Rolling over, Adrien pulled her close against him, burying his nose deep into her hair. Marinette. His wife. He could finally breathe. No matter what the future held or what monsters they might have to face, they would do it together. She was home.