Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Warning: There is violence in this chapter. It's not particularly graphic, but it is there.

Prologue

Nightwing woke slowly, his head throbbing and his body oddly contorted.

Where am I? Why can’t I move?

He opened his eyes and frowned slightly when the world remained pitch black. Blinking, he wondered briefly if he had gone blind before he registered the feeling of his eyelashes hitting heavy cloth.

Okay, so I’m blindfolded. And restrained at my ankles, wrists and torso.

He gently tested the strength of his bonds, wincing when he realized they were made of metal, though they were at least thin. Quieting his breathing, the vigilante listened for any identifying noises.

Nothing. This place is quiet as the grave – and just as cold! Wait, there!

Footsteps approached and Nightwing took mental notes.

Relatively heavy steps, but still quick. So probably a stocky man on the younger side.

“It’s seems our prisoner is finally awake.” The words were oily and repulsive; the voice unfamiliar. Nightwing cursed himself for revealing his conscious state, but kept his face impassive as he turned towards the voice.

“It seems you’re correct about that. What can I do for you today, sir?” He asked sarcastically.

He could practically hear the man’s smirk. “Oh, you’re not going to do anything for me. Your lovely wife and daughter, on the other hand, that’s a different story…”

Nightwing let a confused expression dance across his face, even as his blood turned to ice. “Man, I think you have the wrong guy. I don’t have a wife and I definitely don’t have a daughter.”

His captor laughed coldly. “Oh, I very much doubt that, Dick Grayson.”

Nightwing forced himself not to flinch at the mention of his civilian identity, but his jaw tensed and his captor chuckled again.

“Oh, yes, Robin. I discovered your secret identity. Truly, you should have been more careful. Not every kid on the street winds up like your brother, Jason. Some of them sell you out to the highest bidder. Finally you will pay for your actions against me.”

The man roughly jerked the blindfold off and Nightwing blinked rapidly at the sudden influx of light. He took in the empty warehouse, bare except for a single large projector screen and the chair he sat in, then turned to stare at his captor.

“And who are you, exactly?”

The man before him was completely unfamiliar, with sandy blonde hair and cold brown eyes. A black domino mask covered the area around his eyes, but his lower face remained uncovered, exposing his feral grin.

“I am your worst nightmare.”

Nightwing snorted. “Okay, Cliché-Master. Seriously, who are you?”

I don’t recall ever seeing this man before in my life. So that means…

“Madam Rouge? You know, I have to say your last form was much more attractive.”

The man sputtered. “What? No! I’m not Madam Rouge! I am Muerte!”

Dick raised an eyebrow. Not for nothing did he have a polyglot wife. “Yes, yes, you are Death, destroyer of worlds. I get it. Where am I supposed to know you from?”

Muerte stomped his foot childishly. “I am Muerte! You will remember me! I am your greatest rival! We had many great and terrible fights in Gotham during the year of the Joker’s Return.”

I was in Bludhaven at the Police Academy that year and Nightwing had already appeared in Gotham and in Bludhaven. How did this nutcase even figure out my identity? He’s a complete idiot.

“Look, Morty, I stopped being Robin nearly four years before that. You’re thinking of the second Robin. I never met you, man.”

“Lies!” The man shouted, covering his ears. “Now you will lose everything, Dick Grayson!”

He made a sudden dramatic gesture, though with his increasing agitation, it looked more like a seizure. But then the projector turned on and Nightwing’s laugh died on his lips.

On the screen, restrained and visibly seething was his wife, Kori. Next to her, babbling worriedly was their eleven-month old daughter, Mar’i.

“You disgusting son of a snorlauf! You griglamc nar-bellied nurdlat! Release me at once! Return my husband, you grumvuags!” Apparently finding the English language insufficient for berating and cursing her captors, Starfire switched to Tamaranean and continued with her rant. Nightwing recognized only a few of her words, but the ones he knew made him hope little Mar’i was a slower to learn speech than her mother was. Otherwise her first word was likely to be a Tamaranean curse word.

He turned his attention back to his captor. “Let them go.”

“Now why would I do a silly thing like that?”

Nightwing channeled his inner Batman, letting his voice become serious and gravelly. “Because you want to live.”

Muerte tutted. “Now, now, don’t go making threats like that. You’ll make my sponsor angry.”

“Your sponsor?”

So many things make sense now. I knew this guy wasn’t smart enough to be the brains of this operation. But who is this sponsor and what does he have against Starfire and me?

Muerte motioned to a man in the corner of the screen with grey hair and a mustache. “A very generous man, my sponsor. Giving me the opportunity to destroy my old rival, to rise above his ashes and restore my reputation as Muerte, the Living Death!”

Nightwing gritted his teeth. “I swear if you hurt one hair on their head, I will kill you.”

The man giggled. “Good one, Nightwing. Except my sponsor will protect me and everyone knows Bats don’t kill.”

“I’ll make an exception.”

Muerte’s attention was already gone, his refusal to take Nightwing seriously only grating on the vigilante more.

“Look, they’re starting!”

A lab technician approached his wife and picked up the babbling Mar’i, who whined as they carried her away from her stuffed zarnic. Nightwing hissed.

No. Not Mar’i. Please not Mar’i.

Onscreen, Starfire struggled anew against her bonds, her hands briefly glowing green before the restraints flared and the glow faded. Nightwing cursed.

Muerte’s ‘sponsor’ stood, making his way to stand next to Starfire.

“It is a well-known fact, Miss. Starfire, that you are allergic to metallic chromium. It causes you to release starbolts without control over their intensity or direction. However, I have to wonder what effect it would have on an infant that cannot yet produce starbolts.”

Starfire screamed, “No!”

The grey-haired man chuckled. “That’s a rather extreme response, Miss. Starfire. It almost seems like you’re afraid the child will have a rather extreme response to the chromium, no?”

Starfire bared her teeth at the man. “Do not touch her or I will end you.”

“I have a theory, Miss. Starfire. I suspect that a Tamaranean child unable to warp the sun’s energy to produce starbolts still collects that energy and stores it like an adult. So what happens when an infant comes in contact with chromium? Surely all of that energy must still be expelled? But an infant is unable to expel it properly.”

He prowled closer to Starfire, leaning into her space.

“Theoretically, Miss. Starfire, that would result in the energy razing the infant’s body, UV beams frying the child from the inside out. Shall I test my theory?”

Nightwing’s eyes widened and he dry heaved onto the floor next to him, looking away from the screen.

“Please,” Starfire begged. “You cannot do this. She is but a baby. It is a horrible way to die.”

The man leaned forward, snarling, “So is death by fire, yet you had no trouble leaving my son to die in a burning building!”

“We cannot save everyone! It matters not how we try!” Starfire cried. “We are not gods!”

“You failed to save my son,” the man said. “Now, you can fail to save your daughter.”

“Please, if it is revenge you seek, sate yourself with me, do not hurt Mar’i! She is innocent.”

Nightwing knew the words were a mistake as soon as he heard them.

The grey-haired man practically snarled when he spoke. “My son was innocent too.”

He turned to the lab technician. “Inject her.”

“No!” Nightwing shouted, straining against his restraints with all of his strength. The chains holding him snapped but he barely noticed as the lab technician injected his daughter with the metal that would kill her.

Starfire screamed in grief and her entire body glowed green before energy exploded out of her in a wave unlike anything he’d ever seen. The screen went black.

“Where are they?”

Muerte was up against the wall within two seconds, his own knife to his throat.

“Tell me and I’ll consider letting you live.”

“1414 Rue des Arbres, Paris, France. Please don’t kill me!” The criminal stammered out.

Nightwing pressed the knife forward. “You lost the right to live when you killed my daughter.”

Dropping the body to the ground, he ran out of the warehouse, already making the call.

“Kent, I need to be in Paris, France twenty minutes ago.”

“Dick? What’s wrong? You sound unusally serious.”

“It’s Kori and Mar’i.”

“I’m on my way.”

He found her in the wreckage of the building, clutching her daughter’s stuffed zarnic to her chest and sobbing. The small stuffed animal was the only thing within fifty meters that wasn’t charred and collapsed.

Dick ran to his wife.

“Kori!”

She pivoted to look at him and started crying even harder as he gathered her into his arms.

“She’s gone, Dick.” He realized with a numb sort of shock that she’d reverted to speaking Tamaranean. “She’s gone and it’s all my fault.”

The last word morphed into a wail and Dick hurried to console her, despite his own raging emotions.

“It was not your fault, ves’tacha. You know that. You are not to blame for the actions of villans.”

“I killed them,” Kori whispered.

“Good. They killed an innocent child in cold blood. They deserved to die.”

Never thought I’d hear myself say that.

Kori’s sobs slowly petered out and he pulled her to his feet. As much as he wanted to break down and cry, here was not the place. He could mourn at home, where there would be no chance of strangers stumbling across them and starting an investigation.

He pulled Kori to her feet. “Let’s go home.”

Still a little teary-eyed, Kori only nodded.

Superman walked to them and asked hesitantly. “Will there be a body?”

“I have already searched the wreckage.” Kori paused to compose herself, but her lips trembled as she continued. “There is nothing left of her.”

Dick forced himself to breathe, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Why, God? Why did you let this happen?

“Alright,” Superman nodded, though even he looked shaken. “Bruce sent the jet for you and said you’d know where to find it. He thought it would be better than having me carry you both across the Atlantic.”

Dick choked on a laugh.

As if either of us care how we’re getting home right now.

“Thank you for your help, Clark,” he said quietly. “We’ll see you around.”

Superman nodded. “I know it means nothing in times like this, but I’m sorry for your loss.” Turning, the man took off into the air. Within moments, he was gone from view.

Dick wrapped an arm around Kori’s shoulder and turned her away from the collapsed building where their daughter had died.

“Let’s go.”

Refusing to look back, the young couple made their way home weighed down by the knowledge that their lives would never be the same.

A few miles away, it was a normal day for Sabine Cheng and her husband, Tom Dupain. At least until they found an infant in an alleyway.

The two bakers had spent most of the afternoon looking at locations for their bakery and haggling with their suppliers. Following that, they decided to go for a stroll and enjoy the beautiful weather that day.

Finding an abandoned baby girl wasn’t exactly on the agenda, but Tom took one look at the blue-eyed baby and melted. Soft black hair came down to just cover her ears and she reached out towards the couple with an adorable babbling sound.

“Can we keep her, Sabine?”

Sabine laughed. “I think we need to at least try to find her family first. Let’s call your friend at the police station, what’s his name? Someone Raincomprix?”

“Roger! That’s perfect!”

The call was made and within the day, a social worker had inspected their house and background in order to approve them as temporary caretakers. The two waited anxiously for any news about what could have happened to the tiny little girl’s family.

To their horror, no one had a record of anyone that might be family to the young child. Nor did they have any record of her birth. It was as if she had just popped into existence in that alley.

 “See, we found her for a reason, Sabine. She needs us,” Tom said. He looked at the baby cradled in his arms. “Isn’t that right, my little Marinette?”

The baby giggled.

Sabine gave a token protest, arguing that it would be difficult to have a new baby at the same time they were trying to get their bakery off the ground, but Sabine loved the little girl as well. The idea of giving her to someone else – even someone that would love and care for her – was repulsive.

When the social worker asked if they’d like to adopt the child, Sabine and Tom’s answer was immediate.

Following several more background checks, extensive meetings, and long days making their house truly baby-proof, Tom and Sabine adopted Marinette Dupain-Cheng as their own.

“Not that I object to you picking the name, Tom, but why did you pick the name Marinette? No one in your family has that name,” Sabine asked as they walked out of their final meeting.

Tom shrugged, grinning. “I just really like that name. And don’t you think Marinette Dupain-Cheng has a nice ring to it?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Yes, I suppose it does,” Sabine said, trying out the sound of it. Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute.”

Tom gave her his most innocent smile.

“Tom, you gave our daughter a name that is a bread pun?!” Sabine cried incredulously.

Her husband chuckled awkwardly. “Surprise?”

For a moment, Sabine just stared at him. Then she laughed, long and hard.

“That’s so like you,” she said through her laughter. Then she abruptly sobered. “You have lost naming priviledges though. Every other child we have, I’m picking the names.”

“As you wish,” Tom replied with an easy smile, taking his love’s hand.

Refusing to look back, the young couple made their way home, giddy with the knowledge that their lives would never be the same.

Chapter Text

At age fifteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng considered herself a decent liar. After all, she’d managed to conceal her powers since the tender age of five – even on occasions when her eyes had started glowing or she’d accidentally let herself drift a few inches off the floor. And for the past two years, she’d kept an even bigger secret – that she was Ladybug, superheroine of Paris and Guardian of the Miraculi.

That didn’t mean that she liked lying. In fact, she hated it.

She lied because in Paris, people were more likely to kill you for being meta than offer a bit of kindness. She lied because if anyone knew she was Ladybug, Hawkmoth could find out and bring an end to the world as they knew it. She lied because she had to, never because she wanted to.

Maybe that’s why Lila grates on me the way she does. I spend so much of my time lying to protect myself and the people I care about and then she walks in and uses lies to take advantage of them.

“Yeah, MDC and I are super close! In fact, he invited me on a date next week,” Lila said, blushing.

It really doesn’t help that she keeps claiming to be close with me – as both Ladybug and MDC. Even my alter egos aren’t safe from her!

“Girl! You said yes, right?” Alya nearly fell out of her seat in her excitement and Marinette had a feeling the Ladyblog was about to get another article closer to being the LilaBlog.

“Well, I wanted to, but between all of my volunteering and the homework I have to catch up on for Ms. Mendeleiev, I’m not sure I’ll have time,” Lila said, frowning slightly.

“No worries! You can just copy off me,” Alya replied with an easy grin. “That way you can make it to your date with Prince Charming.”

Marinette glanced at Ms. Bustier, who appeared to be willfully ignoring the conversation, since Alya was the opposite of quiet.

“You’d do that for me? Oh, Alya, you’re such a good friend!” Lila gushed.

Marinette glared at the unsuspecting brunette from her seat in the back and threw back half of her cup of coffee in one gulp, wincing at the bitter taste.

Her boyfriend chuckled, kissing her on the cheek and sitting down next to her. “Marinette, why do you drink black coffee if you don’t like the taste?”

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine. Yes, I am having a terrible day, how about you?”

Adrien laughed, the sound lifting her heart. “My day is wonderful, as it always is when you’re here.”

Marinette blushed, stammering nervously. “Ah, thank you! You too – I mean, my days are better with me too! No, with you!” She groaned and let her head fall to the desk. “Six months of dating and I still can’t talk to you like a normal person when you compliment me.”

Adrien leaned closer to her. “I think it’s cute.”

She only groaned in response.

“Nevertheless, my question still stands. Why are you drinking black coffee when you hate that stuff?”

Marinette raised her head. “One word. Caffeine.”

“Why didn’t you put sugar in it?”

“Caffeine is a highly addictive drug, Agreste. It should not taste good.”

“Fair enough.”

“Additionally, this abomination has four shots of espresso in it. The really bitter kind that my parents make. I’m not sure I could make it sweet if I tried.”

Adrien grinned. “Only four shots of espresso? That’s an improvement from last week!”

“This is my fourth cup in as many hours,” Marinette deadpanned. “I haven’t slept in three days.”

She could practically see him doing the math in his head.

Adrien’s smile slid off his face. “Sweetheart, that is not healthy. You’re going to overdose on coffee! Why?”

“Rush commission,” Marinette explained with a sigh. “It was a tight squeeze but doable and then I cut in the wrong place and had to start from scratch.”

Also Hawkmoth apparently doesn’t sleep, so I was out butterfly-catching at two in the morning.

Adrien sighed. “I know your work is important to you, but you have to take care of yourself, Mila – Marinette. You need sleep.”

Sleep is all well and good, but it’s an impossible luxury when you’re doing three full time jobs as a student, an internationally recognized anonymous designer, and a superhero.

“Nah, that’s what coffee is for. Did you know coffee doesn’t actually make you less tired, it just inhibits the adenosine receptors in your brain so that your body forgets that it’s tired?” She perked up as she shared the tidbit of information.

“Wait a second, I thought I was the science nerd in this relationship,” her boyfriend teased. “Am I going to have to fight you for the title?”

Marinette smirked. “If you feel threatened by me knowing a single science fact I found online at 5:00 this morning, then yes, I suppose so.”

“It’s a good thing I’m secure in my nerdiness then,” Adrien replied.

Marinette laughed.

“What’s funny, Marinette?” Lila asked, turning around to look at them.

Immediately, her face turned impassive. “It was nothing, Lila. Adrien made a joke, that’s all.”

“Must have been a really funny joke,” Lila remarked. “You laughed very hard. It’s so sweet that Adrien doesn’t mind your laugh.”

Beneath the table, Marinette’s hands clenched into fists.

“What does that mean, Lila?” She kept her voice as light as she could. “Because it almost sounded like you were insulting my laugh, but I know you’d never do that, right?”

Lila’s eyes widened innocently. “Of course not. You just have such a unique laugh, Marinette. I’ve only ever heard one like it from a close friend of mine back in Italy. Well, actually, she accused me of something I didn’t do and made all my friends hate me, but I’m sure you’re nothing like her.”

Marinette gritted her teeth, but managed to keep her voice light. “No, when I accuse people, it’s because they’re guilty.”

“Oh, but there was that one time at the beginning of the school year, wasn’t there?” Lila asked, blinking in confusion.

Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but a tap on the arm made her turn to Adrien.

“Leave it alone, Marinette,” he said softly. “She’s not hurting anything.”

She shook him off and glanced back at Lila, who had returned to her conversation with Alya. Alya hadn’t spoken to Marinette beyond a simple hello in two weeks.

You say she’s not hurting anything, Adrien. But I’m not so sure about that anymore.

Miraculously, Marinette made it through the day without collapsing from exhaustion or attacking Lila when she lied. She headed home and drained another disgusting cup of coffee.

I’m going to get caught up on my schoolwork if it kills me!

Tikki was already asleep and Marinette was just getting ready to obey the siren call of her bed when her phone rang, the tune ‘Rock Giant’ blaring from the tiny speaker. Exhaustion forgotten, she leapt for the phone.

“Uncle Jagged!”

“Hey, Mari! How’s my favorite niece?”

“Doing great! How are you?”

“I’m rockin’! Listen, are you busy right now?”

“Absolutely not!” Marinette flopped onto her chaise with her sketchbook. Talking to Jagged always left her inspired.

“Awesome! Say, I had some ideas for the outfits for the tour. You up to make some of your Marinette magic again?”

The designer in question grinned. “Do you even have to ask?”

An hour later, they had a theme worked out and Marinette had jotted down her most promising ideas. She bit her lip.

“Hey, Uncle Jagged, can I get your advice on something?”

“Sure thing!”

“How do you deal with liars?”

“Is someone trying to steal credit for your designs again? That’s so not rock ’n roll –”

“No, she’s not trying to steal my designs,” Marinette interrupted, feeling silly for even bringing it up. “She just keeps making up lies about celebrities. Like she says she’s dating MDC and that you wrote a song about her after she saved your kitten.”

Jagged was quiet for a minute and Marinette wrung her hands nervously.

“Actually, never mind,” she said. “It’s really not important. Sorry to bug you.”

“This is a classmate of yours?”

“Umm, yes, Lila Rossi.”

“And what other lies has she told?”

“Well, she said that she choreographed “Butterflies” for Clara Nightingale. She apparently convinced Prince Ali to support a worldwide initiative to end pollution. According to her, the Waynes are basically a second family to her and she’s close with Lois Lane,” Marinette said, frowning. “I think that’s part of the reason Alya is so enamoured of her. That and because Lila says she’s Ladybug’s best friend. Actually, it’s not just Alya. My entire class refuses to believe anything bad of her. Every time I try to point out the inconsistencies in her stories, they tell me I’m just jealous.”

“Jealous? Why would MDC need to be jealous of some wannabe?”

“You, Penny, and Clara are the only ones who know I’m MDC. Everyone else thinks I’m still waiting on my big break,” Marinette reminded him. “Anyway, Adrien – my boyfriend – says that her lies will eventually expose themselves and we just have to wait, but that feels wrong. Especially since she keeps telling my friends she can help them get ahead in their careers.”

Jagged choked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Nino has completely stopped entering film contests because he’s convinced she can get him an interview with one of the big producers in America and Alya’s posting all of Lila’s lies on her blog and expecting a call from the Daily Planet any day. Luka has nearly been kicked out of Kitty Section because Lila said it was weird to have an older guy in the band - even though he’s only a year older than us! Nathaniel and Marc discontinued their superhero comedy based on her advice because Lila’s 'contact' in Japan prefers supernatural comics. This, despite the fact that ‘The Adventures of Mightillustrator and Reverser’ was a huge hit! And every time I encourage anyone to not take Lila’s words at face value, she turns the situation around to make it look like I don’t believe in my friends, even though I’m just trying to help! And Adrien still keeps saying to just let it go, that it’s not hurting anyone!”

Marinette looked down and belatedly realized that her hands were glowing blue. If she wasn’t careful, she’d have to explain to her parents how she melted her phone again. She took a few deep breaths, sighing in relief when the blue glow receded.

On the other side of the phone, she was pretty sure Jagged had moved the phone away in order to let loose a few curse words.

“Mari,” he said eventually. “Your boyfriend is wrong. Obviously, this Liar-la girl is hurting someone. Even if her words weren’t setting your friends and classmates up for failure and disappointment, she’s still hurting you. And if your boyfriend can’t see that, maybe you shouldn’t be dating him.”

Marinette took a hissing breath in surprise.

“Adrien’s a great boyfriend though. He’s kind, he’s smart, he’s handsome, he’s supportive –”

“Marinette, he’s telling you not to speak up and defend yourself when someone is actively trying to hurt you. And maybe he’s just naive, but you need to figure that out quickly because if he’s the type to expect you to just sit by and hurt silently, he’s not the type you should be with. You got me?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said quietly.

“As for the liar, let me handle her.”

“But –”

“Marinette, someone has to stop her. She’s telling people that a 30-year old man wrote a song about a 15-year old girl. If I don’t set the record straight, it could ruin my career! And that’s just one person that she’s lied about. Think about Clara – what happens if the press hears that she didn’t credit her choreographer?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even considered how Lila’s lies could hurt the people she lied about.

“I see what you mean.”

“I know like you probably feel like you’re being mean by letting me go after her,” Jagged acknowledged. “But we’re not doing this to be mean. We’re doing this to protect you, your friends, and, most importantly, me.”

Marinette laughed at his faux narcissism. “Okay, Jagged.”

“Alright, enough of the serious stuff! When are you going to come visit us again? Fang misses you!”

As the conversation moved on to lighter topics, Marinette couldn’t deny her relief.

Finally, someone’s going to take care of the Lila situation.

“Say, Marinette, you have any experience designing wedding dresses?”

Marinette blushed a little as she thought of the sketchbook full of ideas for her own wedding dress.

“A little.” Then she registered the question. “Wait, are you finally going to propose?”

Jagged shushed her. “Keep it quiet – it’s a secret, MDC!”

“You are! I’m so excited for you!”

“Yeah, yeah, just promise you’ll keep it quiet till I can pop the question, okay?”

“My lips are sealed,” Marinette said, miming locking her mouth and throwing away the key, then feeling silly when she remembered they were on the phone and Jagged couldn’t see her. “Are you sure she’ll want me to design her dress though? I’m still a very new designer.”

“Oh, yeah, she said she had to have you make her wedding dress and she was hoping you could handle bridesmaids’ dresses as well. And you know I want you to do mine and Fang’s tuxes.”

“Wow, that’s such an honor,” Marinette said. “Although, I’m confused. I thought you hadn’t asked her yet?”

“I haven’t.”

“So why do you know so much about her ideal wedding?”

Jagged sounded sheepish when he spoke again. “I had to ask her what her ring size was. She was onto me in a second, so I went ahead and asked her what her ideal proposal and wedding looked like.”

“You cannot do subtle at all, can you?”

“Not with Penny.” The man’s voice was so lovestruck that Marinette couldn’t help but smile. “She knows me far too well.”

Faintly, Marinette heard another voice through the speaker of the phone and then Jagged said,

“Crikey, MDC! Why didn’t you tell me it was nearly midnight in Paris? Designer extraordinaire you may be, but you still have to sleep.”

“You’re up,” Marinette pointed out.

“I am in America, where it is currently evening rather than the middle of the night. The sun is still in the sky here, whereas the moon is in the sky in Paris. The stars are not visible here, whereas –”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll go to bed,” Marinette said with a pout.

“Rock on, MDC! I’ll talk to you later.”

They hung up and Marinette climbed into bed, considering the weird twist her life had taken recently.

In all honesty, the young designer hadn’t meant to become MDC. She just wanted a smaller logo and for people to stop asking her for Jagged Stone’s autograph. Abbreviating to her initials was a lot shorter than ‘Marinette’ and having Jagged mention his ‘new’ designer in an interview or two convinced most people that Marinette was done designing for him.

Really, it was all Clara Nightingale’s fault that MDC had become the name on everyone’s lips. Clara had recently released a new single called “Butterflies.” Powerful and heartrending, the song perfectly encompassed the anger and sadness of being akumatized, while still reminding the listener of hope in the form of a little white butterfly.

Marinette had adored Clara’s music since her first album, so designing her dress for the French Music Awards was a dream come true – even moreso after hearing Clara’s idea for her dress. She spent countless hours and most of her savings account on that dress, but it was all worth it.

When she began singing, Clara wore a dress the color of an infected akuma that called to mind the fluttering movement of butterflies. A hush fell over the room as the singer sang of anger, grief, and loneliness, the music saying what mere words couldn’t. Throughout the first two verses and the chorus, Clara slowly built the emotional tension of the song, captivating the audience. When she finally reached its climax, her dress changed, deep purple morphing to shimmering white – like Ladybug purifying an akuma. Marinette, watching from home, breathed a sigh of relief and the audience went wild – both for the performance and the dress. After that, it was no surprise that “Butterflies” received Song of the Year.

When Clara revealed that her dress was an MDC original, the fashion world exploded. Speculations and conspiracy theories were everywhere as fashion critics wondered how they could’ve missed the rise of such a visionary. MDC’s anonymity only added to the mystery. Everyone wanted to commission Marinette and no one knew how. Finally, Penny reached out to her, suggesting a website. Marinette suspected she was tired of getting calls begging for Jagged to reveal her identity.

 With Penny’s help, Marinette soon had a new website and several NDAs that any prospective clients would have to sign. Since then, she’d had no shortage of commissions. In fact, she got so many that she had to set up a lottery system for which commissions she accepted. She kept her identity secret. Even her parents and Adrien didn't know, mostly so she could use MDC as a diversion if they ever suspected her of being Ladybug.

It was hard to keep up with – being Ladybug, MDC, and Marinette was no small task – but she loved designing and she had to admit it was kind of fun to hear everyone speculating over who she might be.

Except when Lila lies about me. I guess even that is a compliment, in a way.

Rolling over onto her back, she reconsidered Jagged’s words.

Is it really okay for me to let Jagged expose her?

“Marinette?” Tikki’s groggy voice came from next to the bed. “I think there’s an akuma.”

She groaned. “Two night akumas in a row? Hawkmoth cannot give us a break, can he?” Without waiting for a response, she stood. “Tikki, Spots On!”

The magic rushed over her and she headed out into the night, searching for Hawkmoth’s latest victim.

Chapter Text

Ladybug grinned as she soared across Paris.

No matter what, flying never gets old.

While Ladybug could travel via yo-yo, she far preferred flying. With so few people knowledgeable about the Miraculi, it wasn’t as if anyone would realize that the wings attached to her suit were just a prop. Plus, flying often offered an advantage in akuma fights.

She glanced around the streets, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Faintly, she heard what sounded like a scream.

Aha. Got you, akuma.

Changing direction, she dropped closer, letting the buildings provide cover. Slipping out her yo-yo, she called Chat Noir.

“We’ve got an akuma near the Louvre. I’m not sure what its powers are yet, but people are screaming. Get here as quick as you can.”

She hung up and crouched on the nearest roof, peering over the edge to get her first look at the akuma.

Wow. And just when I thought Hawkmoth’s fashion sense couldn’t get any worse. Who pairs galaxy print with stripes? And a bright pink domino mask? That’s just painful.

Ladybug let her eyes roam over the akuma’s costume, searching for anything that might hide the evil butterfly.

I don’t see anything that stands out. Maybe it will become obvious when we understand his powers and motivations?

Her musing was interrupted when Chat Noir landed on the scene.

“Hey, man, you woke me up from my cat-nap! Any chance you can just call quits now so I can hit the hay?”

Ladybug facepalmed.

Ah, crepes. You just can’t do subtle, can you, Chat?

“I am Insomniac!” bellowed the akuma. “And if I can’t sleep, then no one will.”

Opening his mouth, he screamed. Ladybug winced as the sheer force of the sound threw Chat backwards. The cat-themed superhero slammed into the building behind him and fell to the ground with a whimper, covering his ears.

Not only are his screams painful to listen to, they’re also just plain painful. How wonderful.

“Surrender your Miraculous and I will spare you!”

Ladybug jumped down from the roof, landing directly between Chat and Insomniac.

“Not a chance, Insomniac. The only one surrendering here will be you!”

“Milady, so nice of you to drop in!” Chat grinned weakly, sitting up. “Be careful, he has –”

Another scream cut him off and Ladybug wrapped her yo-yo around a nearby light pole to stay in place, only to shriek when the light pole bent under the strength of Insomniac’s scream. She landed on the ground next to her partner, who propped himself onto his elbows with a groan.

“It sounds like you need to chill out. I have a great classical music playlist, if you want to try it.”

Really not the time, Chat!

This time, Ladybug recognized the signs of a scream and grabbed her partner, hauling him out of the direct line of fire.

“Not a fan of classical music, got it!”

Ladybug ducked behind a building.

“Any idea where the akuma is?”

Chat frowned. “No idea, unfortunately. I was hoping he’d give us a clue if I antagonized him enough, but for a sound-based akuma, he’s not very talkative.”

“Alright, in that case, I’ll be the distraction. You get close and cataclysm whatever looks out of place.”

“But I’m always the distraction?” Chat sounded confused.

“I’m wearing bright red spandex,” Ladybug deadpanned. “It’s nighttime, so your costume blends in better. Plus, the sonic blasts bug me less, since I don’t have your enhanced hearing.”

“Milady, was that a pun?” Chat teased.

“Less talking, more fighting.” She sprung into the air.

Ugh, he’s rubbing off on me.

Ladybug flew over the buildings, wincing when she caught sight of the akuma’s damage. Apparently, his screams could knock down buildings.

Finally catching sight of him, she took a deep breath.

“Hey Screamer!” she yelled. “Is that the best you can do?”

The akuma looked up in confusion.

Amazing how many of Hawkmoth’s lackeys forget I can fly.

“It’s Insomniac!” he roared. “And you will regret your overconfidence!”

Ladybug jerked sideways as a scream nearly hit her head on.

That was close.

“Your aim is awful,” she yelled, wishing she had Chat’s talent for enraging villains.

Now there’s something I never thought I’d wish for.

Despite her sub-par insulting skills, Insomniac glared at her and redoubled his efforts to hit her. Ladybug evaded each blast and grinned as she saw Chat closing in on him.

“Lucky Charm!” She caught a bag of red and black marbles.

Glancing around, her eyes caught on just the villain and the marbles.

“That is... oddly straightforward.”

She dodged one last scream and then ripped open the bag of marbles and started flinging them at the villain.

“Ouch! Stop that!”

Thirteen marbles slammed into Insomniac’s face in quick succession, successfully distracting him from Chat’s quiet call of ‘Cataclysm.’

Ladybug grinned as she watched the man’s domino mask disintegrate, then realized that it was actually a sleep mask.

Throwing her yo-yo, she captured the akuma.

“No more evil-doing for you little akuma.”

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

“Bye-bye, little butterfly!”

Flying over to hover next to Chat Noir, she addressed the akuma victim.

“Are you alright, sir?”

The man in question looked up, exhaustion evident. “Fine, just really tired. My roommate got a new puppy and it cries all night long.”

“Ouch, that’s rough,” Ladybug said. “Maybe you could try some earplugs?”

“Didn’t work.”

“Soothing music?” She tried again.

“Epic fail.”

Chat hummed. “Is the puppy upset because he can’t stay with your roommate all night?”

The man nodded.

“Maybe you’re going about this the wrong way,” Chat said. “Maybe instead of trying to block out the puppy’s crying, you should try to make it stop crying.”

“Unfortunately, murdering it is not an option. My roommate would kill me.”

Ladybug’s mouth dropped open.

Why would he even consider doing that?

To his credit, Chat Noir barely blinked. “I’ve heard that if you put something that smells like you in your puppy’s sleeping area, it can help them adjust to sleeping alone. Maybe you could try that?”

The man brightened. “That just might work. Thanks, Chat Noir!” With a new spring in his step, he turned and headed back home.

Ladybug breathed a sigh of relief. “Pound it?”

Bumping fists with her partner, Ladybug took to the air.

“Hey, Chat?”

He turned back towards her. “Yes, Milady?”

Ladybug let herself drift closer to the ground.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I know things were a little weird between us after Master Fu retired and I know how badly you wanted us to reveal our identities, so it means a lot to me that you put all that aside and respected my wishes when I asked you to. And I really appreciate you dropping your romantic intentions to focus on being my partner.” She grimaced. “Having your support is the only thing that’s kept me sane throughout this whole ‘Now you’re the Guardian’ crisis.”

Chat beamed at her. “I’m always here for you, Milady. Always.”

“Goodnight, Chat.”

“Goodnight, Ladybug.”

As she flew back home, Ladybug smiled to herself.

He really has become a great partner.

Landing on her balcony, Ladybug dropped her transformation and handed Tikki a cookie.

“Great work, Marinette! You and Chat finished that akuma in record time!”

“I couldn’t do it without you, Tikki.” Marinette fistbumped her kwami with a grin. “I think Hawkmoth is scraping the bottom of the barrel. We’re still no closer to figuring out his identity though.” She sighed. “I was so hoping that the akumas would show up on camera.”

“You’ll find him,” Tikki reassured. “I have complete faith in you, Marinette.”

“Thanks, Tikki. Maybe Wayzz can help us brainstorm sometime tomorrow.”

Dropping back into her room, Marinette yawned and moved towards her bed, then froze.

“Maman! What are you doing in here?”

Sabine Cheng looked at her daughter, who definitely had not been in her room or on her balcony two minutes prior.

“I could ask you the same question. Actually, I couldn’t because until a moment ago, you weren’t here. Marinette, where have you been?”

Bagels and baguettes, what do I do? I can’t let her know I’m Ladybug!

“Look, it’s not what you think!” Marinette said, waving her hands wildly.

Sabine raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to fight poorly costumed villains controlled by an evil butterfly?”

Sugarless macarons, how did she find out? I thought the magic was supposed to keep my identity safe! Deny, deny, deny!

“Umm, no?” She hated the way it came out as a question. That’s Ladybug and Chat Noir’s job. Even if I was stupid enough to go out there, I’d only get in the way – powers or no.”

Sabine sighed. “I know you’re Ladybug.”

“Aw, ganache.”

“Marinette! Language!”

“Sorry,” Marinette said unrepentantly.

“How did you find out?” she asked her mother. “Does Papa know?”

Sabine frowned. “Your father and I have always had our suspicions, but until recently, we wrote them off as coincidence. After all, there could be more than one girl in this city with superstrength, the ability to fly, and eyes that glow blue, however unlikely it seemed. But then I found the magical jewelry.”

Marinette’s eyes bulged.

She found the Miracle Box? Tikki’s going to kill me. Will I even be able to continue as Ladybug? Or as the Guardian? What if Maman gets akumatized and Hawkmoth finds out my identity?

“Before you ask,” Sabine continued, breaking Marinette out of her spiraling thoughts, “I didn’t mean to snoop. Your fabric came in early and I brought it up to your room to save you the time. I just picked up the bracelet because it was on the table where I needed to set the fabric. And then a floating green turtle poppped out.”

How could I forget to put away Wayzz’s bracelet? Brilliant, Marinette, absolutely brilliant.

“From there, it wasn’t a big leap to realize that you’re Ladybug.”

Marinette groaned. ”Perfect. Less than a year as the Guardian and I’ve already managed to out my identity to multiple people. I’ve got to be the worst Guardian in the history of the Miraculi.”

“You are not, Marinette!” Tikki zoomed out of her hiding place, nearly giving Sabine heart palpitations in her haste to reassure Marinette. “You’re one of the best Ladybugs I’ve ever had and you are not a failure as a Guardian.”

“But I broke the cardinal rule, Tikki! My identity isn’t secret!”

“And Master Fu lost two Miraculi and caused the temporary destruction of the entire Order,” Tikki pointed out. “Every Guardian makes mistakes. And this one has a lot of positive effects. Your parents can support you in ways the rest of the kwamis and I can’t. You need support.”

“Marinette,” Sabine said softly. “Your father and I are so proud of you. We want to be here to help you – in whatever way we can. Whether that means fighting by your side or explaining your absences at school, we’ll be there.”

Tears filled Marinette’s eyes as she wrapped her mother in a hug.

”How did I get so lucky to have you as my Maman?”

Sabine smiled, holding her daughter close. “I’m the lucky one.”

After a long moment, they pulled apart.

“No more secrets, okay?” Sabine said.

“I’m guessing you already know I’m MDC, then?”

“What?” Sabine yelped.

Tikki giggled and Marinette burst into surprised laughter.

“How did you figure out I was Ladybug but not figure out I was MDC?”

“I don’t know.” Sabine shook her head, putting the question aside. “Get some rest, darling. It’s late and you have school tomorrow. We can discuss this further with your father tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay, Maman. I love you.”

“I love you too, Marinette. Sleep well.”

Sabine made her way back downstairs and Marinette turned to Tikki.

“Is it really okay for my parents to know my identity? Or was that all a cover so that we can erase their memories with some weird Guardian ritual?”

Tikki giggled. “You’re the Guardian, Marinette. You tell me.”

Oh. I forgot about that.

“I think I want to have their support in this,” she said, climbing into bed. “But what if they get akumatized?”

“Maybe the Grimoire will have a solution,” Tikki suggested. “Now go to sleep. It’s a lot easier to defeat villains when you’re well-rested.”

“Goodnight, Tikki.”

“Goodnight, Marinette.”

Chapter Text

Warning: Mentions of physical abuse and violence.

Koriand’r Grayson was terrifying in court, Damian decided, watching her stalk to the witness stand. She reminded him of a panther he’d tried to rescue from a zoo once – all grace and beauty, even as she ate you alive.

Although Grayson had moved back to Gotham nearly three years ago and Kori had followed him shortly after, this was the first time Damian had seen her at work. Well, at work as an attorney. He had no clue how it was legal, but the Tamaranean princess was both a social worker and a lawyer specializing in abuse cases. While Damian had occasionally been to her office while she was meeting with a kid, he’d never seen her in court.

In truth, he wasn’t sure why he was here now. Kori had commented wistfully about wishing he could meet someone and Father had quickly made arrangements for him to miss school – a first for him.

Normally, Damian would’ve been pleased to avoid another inane day of relearning what he already knew. Recently though, he’d found himself uncomfortable in Kori’s presence, stomach churning with guilt. He couldn’t seem to look at her without dragging up unpleasant memories and emotions.

After all, it’s my fault that Grayson is –

He shoved the thought away, refocusing on the trial. He refused to add crying in public to the list of ways he’d failed in recent months.

“Mr. Peckham,” Kori was saying. “It is my understanding that you and your son live alone?”

“Uh, yes,” the man said, “although we have a housekeeper, Ms. Dahm, that comes three times a week to clean up. My son and I make a lot of messes.” He chuckles awakwardly.

“And have you ever had any problems with Ms. Dahm?”

“Oh, no, she’s an exemplary employee,” the man said, relaxing a little at the question. “Always keeps the house very clean and never complains when Liam makes her job harder.”

“And has she ever lied to you about anything?”

“To my knowledge, Ms. Dahm has never lied to me,” Mr. Peckham said. “It’s hard to imagine a sweet lady like her lying about anything.”

“Thank you, Mr. Peckham,” Kori said with a friendly smile. Damian wondered if he was the only that saw the malice behind it. Kori loathed people that abused their children. “I have just a few more questions for you. First, have you ever hit your son in anger or withheld food from him as punishment?”

Mr. Peckham looked horrified. “No, never.”

“Thank you. Where were you on the night of the 21st?”

“At home,” he said. “My son and I ate dinner together and then he went to bed and I finished up some work in my office.”

“And did you do anything else that night?”

“I mean, I went to bed around midnight,” Mr. Peckham said.

“Of course. Was there anything else?”

“No.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Peckham. You may return to your seat,” Kori smiled almost smugly. “The prosecution calls Maria Dahm to the witness stand.”

An older, pale skinned lady slowed climbed the steps to the witness box. She took the oaths and met Kori’s gaze with a wink.

Damian cocked his head.

Interesting.

“Ms. Dahm, how long have you worked for Mr. Peckham?”

“About five years now,” she replied. “Ever since his poor wife died.

“And would you consider him a good employer?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the lady said. “We’ve had enough time to learn each other’s quirks.”

“Oh really?” Kori said. “What kind of quirks does Mr. Peckham have?”

“Well, for one,” Ms. Dahm started with the air of someone sharing juicy gossip, “he’s neurotic about leaving on the lights. If someone’s not in a room, the light had better be turned off. I’ve never known him to leave the light on in any room not currently being used.”

“Objection! This is an invasion of my client’s privacy,” Peckham’s lawyer stood. “As well as being completely irrelevant.”

The judge sighed. “I, too, fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning, Ms. Grayson.”

“Very well,” Kori seemed unbothered. “How would you describe your relationship with the child in question, Liam?”

Ms. Dahm hummed contemplatively.

“Grandmotherly. I patch up all his bruises and scrapes and listen to his stories about school and friends.”

“Does Liam get hurt frequently?”

The woman shook her head with a chuckle. “All the time. My stars, that child is accident prone. It seems like every time I go over there I’m changing a band-aid or applying an ice pack after he falls off the swings at recess or runs too fast and runs straight into something.”

“And have you ever seen Mr. Peckham punish his son?”

Ms. Dahm seemed confused by the sudden change in topic, but nevertheless replied. “No.”

“Have you ever seen Mr. Peckham hit his son in anger?”

“No.”

“Do you think Liam gets enough food for a child his age?”

“Of course,” Ms. Dahm said, almost indignantly. “Just because he’s a little small for his age doesn’t mean he’s malnourished.”

“Do you think Mr. Peckman would abuse his son?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Ms. Dahm. You may sit.”

Mr. Peckham and his lawyer looked smug, but Damian could tell Kori had something else up her sleeves.

“The prosecution calls –” Kori began, but was interrupted by a small child tugging at her pants.

She looked down with a smile. “I thought you were going to wait outside till it was your turn, Liam?”

“I got bored.” The little boy pouted. “You’re taking forever and I want to go home.”

“Ha!” Mr. Peckham crowed triumphantly. “You see? He wants to go home. Would he want to go back to an abusive home?”

He didn’t seem to notice the way the child flinched away from him, but Kori did.

“Your Honor, would it be alright to remove Mr. Peckham from the room and ask Liam a few questions now so he isn’t stuck outside bored?”

The judge acquiesced and in a few minutes, Liam was standing on a box in the witness stand.

The poor kid is tiny.

Kori, noticing how nervous Liam seemed, asked several silly questions about his friends, his teachers, what he did during his free time.

“Now, Liam, my understanding is that you got hurt several weeks ago, is that right?”

The smile fell off the boy’s face immediately. “Yes.”

“I was told that your right arm and one of your ribs was broken and that you were pretty bruised up, is that correct?”

Liam bit his lip and only nodded.

“How did you get hurt, Liam?”

“I fell.” He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Is that the truth, Liam?”

Liam cast a fearful look at the door his father had used to leave and shook his head, no.

“Hey, Liam, look at me, bud,” Kori said. Liam looked back at her, terror still clear on his face. “It’s okay, no one can hurt you here. Remember?”

After a long moment, the little boy nodded.

Kori gave him a reassuring smile. “Did someone hurt you, Liam?”

Another nod.

“Can you tell me who?”

Immediately, Liam shook his head no. “If I tell, he’ll be mad and hurt me more!”

He seemed close to tears and Kori cast her eyes about the room till they landed on Damian.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

Don’t even think about it, Koriand’r.

“Thank you, Liam. You’ve been super brave for me, buddy. Do you want to go hang out with my friend Damian now? He has some really awesome drawings of the Bats.”

This is betrayal.

Not that I don’t deserve it.

Liam perked up a little. “Sure.”

Damian sighed, but made his way over to collect the little gremlin.

I don’t know how to deal with children. This is a terrible idea.

They were barely out of the courtroom before the child started annoying him.

“Can I see your pictures of the superheroes? Please?”

“They’re vigilantes,” Damian said shortly. “Wait until we sit down.”

Once they found the police officer that should’ve been watching Liam, they sat and Damian handed the kid his sketchbook.

“Be careful with it, okay?”

“Woah.” Liam found the pages featuring the Bats and was immediately entranced. “This is so cool! You made these?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Damian hummed contemplatively. “Probably Nightwing.”

Guilt filled him even as he said it.

You hardly treated him like he was your favorite, you pathetic excuse for a human being.

“Really? But no one’s seen him in months!”

Damian bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

My fault, my fault, my fault.

“Robin’s my favorite!” Liam cheerfully announced, stopping at a drawing of the vigilante midair, cape flowing behind him.

Wait, what?!

“Why is that, kiddo?”

“He’s saved me tons of times,” Liam said exultantly. “Cause he sometimes did patrol over my house and it always scared my dad, so he wouldn’t hit me for a while afterwards.”

At that moment, Liam seemed to realize what he’d just said and clapped his hand over his mouth. His face went pale.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” He tugged at Damian’s arm. “I don’t want my father to hurt me anymore!”

“He won’t,” Damian promised. “Kori’s in there making sure of it, okay?”

How did I miss something like that? I should’ve realized that Peckham was abusing his kid months ago! How dumb can I get?

The boy still looked scared, but turned his attention back to the picture. “I also really like Robin’s sword.”

“It’s called a katana.”

“Really? That’s such a cool name! Katana.” Liam grinned. “Anyway, Robin’s just like my guardian angel. Like this one time, I got lost and it was super dark and he found me and bought me a burger and a milkshake and took me to the police station so I could get home. Dad never lets me get milkshakes!”

Damian had forgotten about that.

“This is really good.” Liam had returned to staring at the drawing of Robin.

“You can keep it, if you want,” Damian offered.

What am I saying? This is moronic.

But then the boy grinned – one tooth missing from the smile – and the dilemma flew from his mind.

“Really?”

Damian nodded and the boy suddenly launched himself at him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You are welcome.” Damian stiffened as Liam hugged him, but awkwardly put his arms around him anyway.

When was the last time I hugged someone?

A memory filled his mind – Kori wrapping her arms around him in the hospital as they waited for news about Grayson.

Damian suddenly felt like puking. He pushed the child away and asked him about his second favorite vigilante.

It wasn’t until the boy responded, saying Red Robin was his second favorite, that Damian was able to shove down the uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

He paid close attention to Liam’s words after that, not willing to risk getting lost in his own thoughts again.

When Kori returned, it was to an excited Liam talking non-stop to Damian, who wore the closest thing to a smile she’d seen in months.

The corners of her lips lifted at the sight.

“Liam, are you ready to go?”

The boy suddenly went quiet and Damian looked up, concerned.

“I don’t have to go back to my father, do I?” The words were so soft, Damian could barely hear them.

Kori was picking up Liam in mere moments. “Of course you don’t, sweetheart. You’re going back to Ms. Dahm’s house, okay?”

His face lit up. “Really?”

Kori nodded. “And I’ll be checking in on you every week so that we can make sure everything’s going well. Okay?”

“Okay!” Liam looked happier than Kori had ever seen him.

“So what have you and Damian been up to?” she asked, prompting Liam to practically jump out of Kori’s arms to retrieve Damian’s sketch.

He showed it to Kori proudly, pointing out each detail.

“See, Damian made his cape just right and included the spikes on his mask and his utility belt. Isn’t it so cool!?”

Liam kept chattering excitedly all the way to Ms. Dahm’s car and Kori watched tearfully as he hugged the older woman.

“Is it a good idea to place him with someone so blind to Liam being abused?” Damian asked quietly.

Kori had to fight a smirk.

“Ms. Dahm is actually the one who gave me the tip that Liam was being abused,” she whispered back. “I asked her to play dumb in court so that Mr. Peckham wouldn’t try to take revenge on her and Liam.”

That’s brilliant.

“How unusually intelligent of you.”

Kori rolled her eyes, a mannerism she’d no doubt picked up from Jason. She knew a compliment from Damian rarely sounded like one.

“Come on, let’s go to the car.”

They were nearly there when she spoke again, reaching over to ruffle Damian’s hair.

“You did well today, bumgorf. I think you made Liam’s day by giving him that sketch.”

Bile rose in Damian’s throat at the affectionate term. “Don’t call me that.”

Kori tilted her head. “Why not?”

His chest felt tighter than it should. “Just don’t.”

I’m not worthy of it.

He climbed into the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. Memories threatened to overwhelm him.

A fight. Grayson lying motionless on the floor, paler than Damian had ever seen him. The blood running down his suit. Kori’s sobs as they took him away.

Why is she so kind to me?

When Kori climbed in, he turned to face her.

“Why did you bring me here? You’ve never cared before.”

Kori sighed as she started the car. “You know, you probably saved Liam’s life without even realizing it. All those times going over his roof as Robin kept his father paranoid that the Bats were onto him.”

She pulled out into traffic and Damian frowned,

“I should’ve figured it out long ago. Robin failed him.”

“And how would you have done that? The only way I knew was because of Ms. Dahm’s tip – Mr. Peckham was careful to always hurt Liam behind closed doors. The only way I was even able to get the evidence to convict was because he got more violent and the neighbors noticed. You never met Liam during the daytime. You couldn’t have known.”

Damian fell quiet.

I should’ve anyway.

For a few minutes, silence reigned in the car as Damian stared out the window with unseeing eyes.

“Where are we going?” Damian asked finally. “This isn’t the way to the manor.”

Kori clenched the steering wheel a little tighter. “Dick is awake. He wants to see you.”

Chapter Text

Warning: Includes depictions of violence and panic attacks.

Two Months Prior:

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Key phrase: Supposed to be.

They’d been investigating the Cobras for nearly three months and had finally gotten the tip they needed – a lead on one of the gang’s informants, Paul Cooper.

Red Hood suggested that a straightforward scare tactic would convince Cooper to rat out his boss, but Batman wanted to completely surprise the Cobras with their attack. Hence, no vigilantes expressing interest in the Cobras to anyone, especially informants that might or might not be scared into turning.

Instead, Grayson – the only one of them able to procure a warrant – went to Cooper’s house with his partner, explaining that the GPD was onto the Cobras and if he didn’t want to go down with the ship, he’d better bail now.

They didn’t actually expect the man to turn, given the Cobras’ reputation. That was why Robin was lying in wait outside, ready to provide backup or follow Cooper when he inevitably decided to inform his boss of the potential threat.

Grayson would scare him into acting, Robin would trail him to gain information on the gang, and the rest of the team would be standing by, ready to attack as soon as they had the necessary information.

See? Simple.

At least for a plan made by the Bats.

Except that instead of telling his boss, Cooper clobbered Grayson with the butt of a pistol and shot his partner with said pistol before Robin could react, leaving the vigilante ready to murder for the first time in years. Blood pooled under the two policemen as he burst into the house, paying no mind to the shattered glass of the window he’d just jumped through.

“Robin, what’s going on?” His father’s voice in the comms was an unnecessary distraction. Robin blocked it out.

Robin unsheathed his katana and Cooper went pale, fleeing from the room like the cockroach he was. Suddenly, Robin felt ten years old again, guided in his pursuit by anger and a single-minded focus. Slamming Cooper into the wall, he snarled,

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t give you an exceedingly painful death.”

Cooper trembled like a leaf, “T-those men need m-medical c-c-care. They’ll d-die if you waste t-time on m-me.”

An image of Grayson, lying in a pool of his own blood, flashed through Robin’s brain. Old instincts warred with newer ones for a split second before the murderous rage receded and Robin knocked the man unconscious with a blow to the temple.

His father was still stoically panicking on the comms and Robin gave him a brief rundown on the situation as he sprinted back to Grayson’s side. A quick check of his partner confirmed that the man was dead, so Robin devoted his emergency medical skills to keeping Grayson alive.

Field medicine was a new skill for him. The League of Assassins hadn’t exactly stressed keeping prisoners alive – or anyone else, for that matter.

Still, Robin did his best. Grayson wouldn’t die on his watch if he could help it. Receiving confirmation of medical assistance on the way, he sighed.

“Hang on, akhi,” he whispered. “Help is on the way.”

Watching the ambulance drive away was torture. Arriving at the hospital to Koriand’r’s tear-stained face was even worse.

Grayson was in surgery and they weren’t sure he would survive the night.

“He has a traumatic brain injury,” the doctor explained. “It’s moderate rather than severe, so that’s a good sign, but he also lost a lot of blood. If he makes it through the night though, there’s a good chance he’ll make a full recovery.”

This is my fault. Damian realized. If I’d prioritized medical care instead of catching Cooper, Grayson wouldn’t have lost so much blood and maybe his partner would be alive. If I’d just predicted Cooper’s movements better, I could’ve acted before he attacked them and they’d both be healthy.

“I see that look on your face.” Kori put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. “This is not your fault. No one could’ve predicted what happened.”

Damian didn’t believe her.

As an Al-Ghul, as a Wayne, as Robin, he should’ve been better.

My fault, my fault, my fault.

Despite his family’s assurances, Damian’s guilt only grew in the weeks that followed. Grayson was in an induced coma because of him. Because of his failure.

He took to sneaking into the hospital after visiting hours to avoid Kori, who tended to pop in whenever she had a spare moment. While his family thought he was sound asleep, he spent hours beside Grayson’s bed, only to flee from the room on the rare occasions the man woke.

Damian called it a tactical retreat. There was no telling how Grayson might react to a strange, unknown figure while on drugs. Kori, who wasn’t as blind to Damian’s nighttime visits as he thought, called it fear.

She understood though. Damian had been raised to see emotional attachment as a weakness. As much progress as he’d made in the past few years, he was still afraid to show affection.

As much as he cared about Dick, he didn’t want to admit it.

And if Kori knew the boy even half as well as she thought she did, he also believed Dick would abandon him as soon as he realized that the incident was Damian’s ‘fault.’

Nevermind that it wasn’t Damian’s fault or that Dick would never abandon his Baby Bird.

Still, her attempts to persuade Damian of these facts failed miserably, so she only resolved to get them to talk as soon as Dick was reliably lucid. Maybe hearing it from Dick himself would assuage some of Damian’s guilt.

Present:

“Dick is awake. He wants to see you.”

“What?!” Those eight words threw Damian’s emotions into chaos. Joy, guilt, regret, and relief created a strange cocktail, but his dominant emotion was panic.

I’m can’t see him now. I can’t! I’m not ready to lose him!

“The hospital has taken him off the meds that were keeping him under,” Kori explained. “So he’s awake for good now.”

Her explanation did nothing to soothe the vicious beast attacking his mental state. Damian had to try twice before he could make his mouth form words.

“When did this happen?”

“A couple of days ago. This morning was the first time Dick’s been truly lucid though. He really wants to see you.”

Yeah, so he can tell me he never wants to see me again. Don’t give me false hope, Koriand’r.

He hissed in displeasure. Time to try diplomacy, as little as he liked it.

“Actually, Kori,” using her nickname was physically painful, “I just remembered I have school work due tomorrow. I do not have time to visit today. Could I plan on coming tomorrow?”

Kori sighed. “You said you were ahead and it wouldn’t matter if you missed a full day of school.”

“I forgot about something.”

“Damian, tomorrow is Saturday, quit lying to me.”

“But – ”

“Look, you and Dick need to clear the air. The sooner you talk, the sooner things will get back to normal between the two of you.”

Why am I even upset about this? Grayson is the least intimidating of my father’s protégés.

His thoughts did nothing to comfort him. Damian forced himself to breathe slowly, trying not to think of the events of two months ago.

Cooper, shooting the man next to Grayson, the man just trying to do his job.

“Please, Kori, I can’t do this.” Kori jolted in surprise at the word ‘please.’ She’d never heard Damian use it.

An unpredicted strike. Grayson on the floor, bleeding. My fault, my fault, my fault –

Damian lost himself to the memories. He curled into a ball and tried to block them out, even as his inner demons reminded him that Grayson would surely hate him now.

You’re a disgrace to the Robin name. Pathetic.

“Damian!” Kori’s voice seemed to come from far away and he realized he was hyperventilating. “Come on, breathe with me.”

You’re weak. Useless. Why would anyone ever care for you?

Damian steeled himself and took a deep breath in, then another.

“That’s good, Damian,” Kori praised. “You’re doing so well. Can you tell me five things you can see?”

His breathing shuddered. “Dashboard. Mirror. Parking ticket. Nail polish. Tissues.”

“That’s great. Four things you can touch?”

“Seat. Seatbelt. Door handle. Window button.”

“Three things you hear?”

“Your voice, my breathing, horns honking.”

Breathing was starting to come a little easier.

“Two things you smell?”

“Pine air freshener and, some sort of pastry?”

“That’s right. And one thing you can taste?”

“Umm, blood. I think I bit my lip.”

“Can I touch you to see?” Kori asked.

Damian nodded and she turned his face towards her.

“You did bite your lip, but it’s not too bad.”

“Okay,” Damian replied, a little discomfited as he met Kori’s eyes for the first time in months.

“This is why he wanted to see you, bumgorf,” she said softly. “He wants you to see for yourself that he’s okay and he doesn’t blame you. Okay?”

“It’s my fault,” Damian said, miserably. Everything in him was screaming that he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable like this, but he was beyond caring. “He should blame me. He got hurt because I failed.”

Kori took his hand. “Let him tell you otherwise, please?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Damian.” Kori smiled. “And please don’t tell Dick about the parking ticket. He’ll tease me for months.”

Despite Kori’s reassurances, when they pulled up at the hospital, Damian felt that being stabbed by Heretic again would be preferable to his current situation.

Walking through the halls was surreal and dread pooled in his stomach as he stood outside Grayson’s room. He always came at night, through the window.

He probably would’ve stood and stared at the door all day, but Kori opened the door and sang out,

“Dick, you have a visitor!”

She pushed Damian inside, who glared at her as she backed out of the room.

“You two have fun!”

Traitor.

Damian took his time looking around the room, avoiding Grayson’s gaze. He paid close attention to the chair and table next to the bed, the open window, and the many medical devices and tubes. The sick feeling in his stomach intensified.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

Finally, he could stall no longer and lifted his eyes to the man on the bed. Bright blue eyes met his.

Grayson shot him a weak smile. “Hey, Baby Bird.”

Chapter Text

Extra: Visit https://j3ssisam3ss.tumblr.com/ to see Mar'inette owning her Ladybug and Tamaranean powers.

Marinette smiled as she headed downstairs to where her parents were preparing for the morning rush.

My parents discovering that I’m Ladybug and MDC is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

In the month since they’d found out, Marinette’s stress had decreased exponentially. Her parents had been nothing but supportive regarding her triple life. For one thing, she now had a much better workspace – for her work as both MDC and Ladybug. Her parents had converted the spare room into a studio for her – complete with all her sewing supplies, a corkboard and map of Paris, a secret cabinet and nest for the Miracle Box and its kwamis, and a dartboard with Hawkmoth’s face on it. While it couldn’t hold a candle to her balcony for inspirational purposes, it was great for the actual creation of her designs and for meetings with the kwamis.

For another, she finally had help in tracking down Hawkmoth. With the assistance of the giant map and pushpins, she and her parents were slowly marking where each akumatization had occurred. After all, the butterfly miraculous had a limited range. Hawkmoth had to be near the site of akumatization. The corkboard held all the other information Marinette knew about her enemies – everything from physical attributes to the limitations and strengths of their Miraculi. For the first time since the Collector, she felt like she was making progress in finding Hawkmoth.

Her parents had even helped her catch up on schoolwork and gotten her officially excused from class whenevere there was an akuma attack. Marinette smiled again at the memory.

Sabine had taken on the entire school staff on her behalf, arguing that it was inhumane and cruel to expect Marinette to continue with class as normal during an akuma attack after so many had targeted her specifically – Timebreaker, Gamer, Riposte, Evilillustrator, Kung Food, Befana, Reverser, Weredad – the list went on and on.

Of course, that meant Marinette had to deal with Lila’s pointed commentary on the unfairness of special treatment – ironic given that Lila got more special treatment than even Chloe.

In the past month, Marinette had given up on Adrien's high road strategy and life at school had settled into a depressing routine: Lila lied and badmouthed Marinette, Marinette pointed out an inconsistency in her story, Lila turned on the waterworks, the class shamed her, either Adrien or Ms. Bustier delivered a sermon on being the bigger person, and Lila continued to lie.

Too bad Lila didn’t count on me having all the connections she faked.

“Good morning, Maman, Papa!”

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Tom said, scooping his daughter up into a hug. Marinette giggled and blew a kiss to her mother, who was on the phone.

“Marinette, come say hi to Uncle Wang!”

The girl beamed and took the phone, allowing her mother to return to baking.

“Hello Uncle! How are you?”

“I’m well, Marinette. How are you?”

His French has gotten so much better.

Cradling the phone to her ear, Marinette slid a pan of macarons into the oven.

“Doing well, Uncle! Have you found any new recipes recently?”

Her uncle excitedly started sharing his search for an incredible noodle dish he’d heard about and Marinette listened intently.

Uncle Wang has the best stories. I’m so glad he took the time to learn French! I should return the favor and learn Mandarin. Maybe Adrien would be willing to tutor me?

They spent several minutes talking, until Cheng Wang began yawning and Marinette gently suggested he head to bed.

Putting the phone on the counter and rolling her shoulders, she grabbed a piping bag and started icing the cinnamon rolls that had just come out of the oven.

“And how’s our resident superhero this morning?” Tom asked.

“Papa! Don’t talk about that in the bakery! Someone might hear!”

“We don’t open for another thirty minutes,” Tom protested. “It’s perfectly safe!”

“It’s still a bad habit to get into, dear,” Sabine pointed out. “Just save it for family meetings.”

“Oh, fine.”

“How was Uncle Wang?” Sabine joined Marinette in frosting the cinnamon rolls.

“He’s great, his new recipe has been a huge hit,” Marinette said. “And is it just me, or has his French gotten a lot better? The last couple of times we’ve talked, I haven’t had any trouble understanding him.”

Sabine’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean, Marinette? Both of you were speaking Mandarin.”

Marinette burst out laughing. Her parents just stared at her.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“But Maman, I don’t even know Mandarin!”

“Apparently you do,” Tom chimed in. “I can guarantee you were not speaking French.”

Marinette still looked disbelieving, so Sabine decided to test a theory.

“You’ve been doing it for months now,” Sabine said with a frown, allowing herself to slip into Mandarin. “We thought you were learning from Adrien.”

Sure enough, Marinette replied in Mandarin.

“We’ve never even discussed it. Surely you’re mistaken?”

"You're speaking Mandarin right now," Sabine said.

Marinette was ready to deny it again, but her eyes landed on her father, who looked completely and utterly lost.

"Could I get a translation?" he asked.

Oh, crepes, he has no idea what I'm saying. I'm actually speaking Mandarin.

She groaned. "So now I can speak a language I don't even know. As if my life wasn't weird enough."

"And we're back to French," Sabine said. "It seems you simply reply in whichever language you hear."

"Why?" Marinette groaned.

“I’ll do you one better: how?” Tom questioned. “Is this a Ladybug thing, or a Guardian thing, or a meta thing?”

“Let’s find out,” Marinette said grimly. Taking a deep breath, she yelled, "Tikki! Wayzz! Get your kwami butts down here!"

The ladybug kwami and turtle kwami floated down through the ceiling, one much quicker than the other.

“Is there an akuma?” Tikki asked worriedly.

“No akuma. Why can I speak Mandarin?”

“And a good morning to you as well, Guardian,” Wayzz said.

“Right, sorry,” Marinette replied sheepishly. “Good morning, guys. Do you have any idea why I might’ve suddenly started speaking a language I’ve never learned?”

Tikki blinked at her. “What?”

Sabine sighed. “Marinette suddenly began speaking Mandarin several months ago, but only when it’s spoken to her. We assumed she’d been learning it for a while, but as it turns out, she’s never studied the language. I haven’t spoken it around the house enough that she could pick it up, so we’re wondering if this is some sort of new Ladybug or Guardian power.”

Wayzz stroked his chin, reminding Marinette of Master Fu. A pang of loss shot through her.

If only I hadn’t ruined everything, I’d be able to ask Master Fu about this.

“I believe there are several spells and potions in the Grimoire that could supply you with fluency in a language, but as you can’t read the Grimoire, there’s no way you could’ve made one,” Wayzz said.

A flush of shame rushed through Marinette.

Some Guardian I am.

 As if sensing her holder’s thoughts, Tikki spoke up,

“That’s not your fault, Marinette. The translated copy was lost, no one expected that.”

“Yeah, except it’s my fault the translated copy was lost.”

“The past is past,” Wayzz said. “Make peace with it, learn from it, move on from it. Now, as I see it, there are three options as to how your new fluency came about. First, and least likely, the Miracle Box may be attempting to even the scales. Right now, Hawkmoth has the advantage because he can read the Grimoire and we cannot. The Miracle Box may be supplying you with knowledge of Mandarin with the hope that it will allow you to read the Grimoire.”

“It can do that? I thought it was just a box,” Marinette said, eyes wide.

“The kwamis have lived in the Miracle Box for millenia. It’s steeped in our magic,” Tikki said. “To call it ‘just a box’ would be to call the Miraculi ‘just some jewelry.’”

Marinette looked like she was having trouble processing that, so her parents took over the search for answers.

“Why did you say that the first explanation was the least likely, Wayzz?” Tom asked.

“The Grimoire is written in an ancient Tibetan script,” Wayzz explained. “While knowing Mandarin might help in decoding the Grimoire, the Miracle Box is normally quite straightforward when it gives aid. If it felt Marinette needed help, it would probably give her knowledge of the Tibetan script – not Mandarin.”

“I’m not sure whether to be proud or offended that the Miracle Box doesn’t think I need help taking down Hawkmoth,” Marinette said, “but I’m leaning towards offended.”

“What’s the second option?” Sabine asked.

“Each Guardian connects with the Miracle Box and kwamis differently and therefore has different strengths and skills,” the turtle kwami said. “Marinette is even more unique because she has worn every Miraculous except the peacock, turtle, and butterfly all at once.”

“I thought you said combining Miraculi was dangerous, Marinette?”

“When did this happen? And why didn’t you tell us?”

“It was an emergency!” Marinette exclaimed. “And I didn’t use all of them, I just wore them. Plus, I was Multimouse, so the power was separated among twelve of me.”

“That’s not how it works, Marinette,” Tikki said.

“Look, the past is past and all that jazz. Can we focus here? I’ve got to head to school in fifteen minutes!”

She breathed a sigh of relief as the conversation got back on track.

“It’s possible that Marinette’s Guardianship is making her a polyglot,” Wayzz continued. “It would be an unusual power for a Ladybug, but there are several Guardians who have become familiar with nearly every language known to man.”

“Wow,” Sabine murmured.

"It's a neat power, but it doesn't help much in the fight against Hawkmoth," Tom said, tapping a finger in thought. "Unless she can learn whatever language the Tibetan monks know and ask them for help."

Wayzz winced. “That probably would not be a good idea. The Tibetan monks have been separated from the world for nearly two hundred years.”

“But they could still help her read the Grimoire, couldn’t they?”

“They could,” Tikki admitted, “assuming they didn’t strip her of her Guardianship for being female.”

Silence reigned in the kitchen for a long moment.

“I hate my life.”

“Anyway,” Wayzz quickly moved away from the topic, as if it were taboo. “The third possibility is that your new proficiency with Mandarin is a result of your abnormal physiology.”

“My abnormal physiology?” Marinette questioned.

“He means the fact that you’re meta,” Tikki clarified. “Becoming Guardian might’ve triggered some dormant power.”

Marinette sighed. “My life can never be simple, can it?”

“It’s an adventure, for sure,” Tom replied, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “How about you head on to school? Your mother and I can finish up here and a little birdie told me you have a liar to take down today.”

“Alright, just let me grab Trixx from upstairs,” Marinette laughed. “It’s his turn to go to school with me today.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep taking an extra kwami to school, Marinette? It seems like an excellent way for things to go wrong.” Sabine worried at her lip.

Marinette shrugged, “The fact that Ladybug has other Miraculi is public knowledge at this point. If someone finds Tikki, having Trixx there isn’t going to make matters worse. And keeping the kwamis in the Miracle Box all the time is inhumane. Do you realize half of them had never tasted a macaron until they came to live with us?”

Tom looked horrified. “That’s it, Sabine, we’re spending the afternoon making kwami treats.”

“Tom, we still have the order for the Chamacks to finish today.”

Running upstairs, Marinette hid the fox Miraculous under her shirt and nodded at Trixx as he materialized.

“Good morning, Marinette!”

“Good morning, Trixx! You ready?”

“To see the downfall of someone's poorly wrought illusions? Always!”

Two kwamis tucked safely in her purse, Marinette bid her parents goodbye and headed out the door.

Time to take down a liar.

Chapter Text

As she walked to school, Marinette sent a quick text to Penny Rolling.

     Passion4Fashion: Is everything ready to go?

     RocknRolling: Yes, just as it has been the last three times you’ve texted.

     Passion4Fashion: Right, sorry. I’m just nervous.

     RocknRolling: Don’t be. We’ve got this covered. Unless MDC wants to make an appearance as well?

     Passion4Fashion: Nah, I’d rather keep that cat in the bag. I just hope my boyfriend doesn’t take it badly.

     RocknRolling: I thought you were going to talk to Adrien about it beforehand?

     Passion4Fashion: I keep trying to, but he won’t let me.

     Passion4Fashion: Like, he’ll start a conversation about how I need to leave Lila alone and then when I try to defend myself, he tells me he doesn’t want to fight and changes the topic.

     RocknRolling: Maybe you two should take a break.

She’d been hearing that sentiment a lot lately. Marinette bit her lip and put her phone away without replying.

“Why is love so complicated, Tikki?”

From inside her purse, Tikki gave her the kwami approximation of a shrug.

“A lot of things seem to be more complicated for humans than they are for kwami,” Trixx piped up.

Marinette sighed and closed the purse as she walked into school. On autopilot, she headed for her classroom, trying to ignore the whispering students watching her.

Having eyes on her was nothing new – her time as Ladybug meant she was used to millions following her every move – but it was an odd sensation in her civilian persona. Frowning, she sped up a little.

I wonder what Lila’s pinned on me this time.

At the doorway to Ms. Bustier’s class, she paused, realizing that her classmates were already crowded around Lila. The only two outside her orbit were Adrien and Chloe, who were standing quietly in the back of the room.

“I just don’t understand why Marinette would do that,” Lila sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I’ve always tried so hard to be nice to her.”

Alya rubbed soothing circles on Lila’s back. “Some people are just jerks like that. You can’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Marinette is just jealous that you’re actually talented,” Kim said. “Since her designs are utter garbage.”

I designed your hoodie, you idiot.

Unconsciously, Marinette’s eyes slid to Adrien, hoping he’d say somthing in her defence. The boy remained silent.

“Don’t worry, Lila,” Sabrina called. “We’ll help you get your designs back and make sure that Marinette can’t profit from them.”

They think I stole Lila’s designs? Are you kidding me? Aside from the obvious fact that I’d never steal anyone’s work, I hate Lila’s style. I mean, orange lipstick with her complexion? No. Just no.

“There is a 94.3% likelihood that she is hiding Lila’s designs and any clothing made using them in her room,” Max said, Markov whirring in confusion next to him.

It seemed Markov realized that something wasn’t adding up. Marinette chuckled silently at the thought that the tiny robot was smarter than his creator.

“Maybe during lunch we could go to the bakery and get back Lila’s designs?” Rose suggested softly. “I’m sure if we just talk to Marinette, she’ll realize that she was wrong.”

Yeah, that’ll totally work. Not like this class’s version of ‘talking’ involves yelling at me until I’m akuma-bait then leaving before I can defend myself.

“No, we’ve tried talking to her.” Nino shook his head. “She’s still targeting Lila.”

“Maybe it’s time she got a taste of her own medicine,” Alya said, tapping a finger on her chin in thought. A sinister grin slipped onto her face. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if that clothing mysteriously vanished? Or if her sewing supplies were ruined?”

All traces of mirth disappeared from Marinette’s person.

Just try it, Cesaire. I dare you.

“At the very least, we can get Lila’s designs back,” Alya concluded.

“You guys would really do that for me?” Lila looked up with a watery smile.

“Of course,” Kim said. “Someone’s got to put Marinette in her place.”

Marinette glanced around the room to see several people looking uncomfortable, but no one spoke up against the plan. Not even Adrien.

Maybe Penny and Jagged are right about him. And they’re definitely right about my classmates.

She’d known for a while that her ‘friends’ weren’t deserving of the title, but this was a whole new level of betrayal. Any pity she’d had for her classmates was long gone, replaced by righteous fury. They’d made their bed. It wasn’t her fault it was full of rocks.

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous,” Chloe muttered from the back of the room.

Huh, maybe I do have one potential ally after all.

“Shut it, Chloe,” Alix said. “Marinette needs to pay for what she’s done to Lila.”

Marinette leaned against the doorway and scoffed. “And what exactly have I done to Lila this time?”

The effect was immediate. Every eye snapped to her in shock.

She let the silence drag on, perfectly content to watch her classmates’ faces change colors.

Ooh, Alya, you might want to breathe. Purple just isn’t for you, babe.

Nathaniel asked the question on everyone’s mind. “How long have you been standing there?”

Marinette straightened leisurely and smirked. “Long enough.” Striding over to Ms. Bustier’s desk, she jumped to sit on it and faced her classmates. “By the way, Kim, if you’re going to call my designs trash, you might want to do it when you’re not wearing a hoodie I made. Otherwise, you just look tacky.”

Impossibly, the boy’s face grew redder and Marinette stifled a snicker.

“Now,” she said, clapping her hands for emphasis and not because it was fun to watch her classmates jump. “Who wants to tell me what horrible act Lila has accused me of this time?”

Silence. The class stared at each other, unwilling to meet Marinette’s eyes. She pasted on a smile and said cheerfully, “Mylene, thank you for volunteering.”

“She didn’t – ”

“Shut it.”

More than one person looked up at that. Marinette had never used such a harsh tone, even with Chloe. The girl in question took one deep breath, letting her anger settle below the surface again.

I will not get akumatized over this class.

She glanced back at Markov, reassured by the thought that the small robot was recording all of her classmates’ accusations and threats.

“So Mylene, what sob story has Lila told you this time?”

“Last month, you stole Lila’s designs for the Gabriel contest,” Mylene accused, voice shaking with anger. “You’re selling them on your website and pretending they’re your own. Lila missed the opportunity for an internship at Gabriel because you stole her work.”

Marinette raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “That’s the story you decided to go with, Rossi? Honestly, I thought you were more creative than that. Chloe’s already tried to pull this on me and failed miserably. You really think you’ll have better luck?” Turning back to the rest of the class, she said,

“I don’t even have a website, so there’s no way for me to sell Lila’s designs, assuming they even exist. As far as I know, Lila’s only connection to the fashion world is through modelling. If she’s made designs, I don’t know about them. Can she even tell you what these supposed designs look like?”

Lila burst into tears. “How can you be so cavalier after you stole my dream from me?”

That seemed to be the trigger. Like a clamor of harpies, the class began shouting at the bluenette, so many voices blending together that it was unintelligible.

In her purse, Trixx and Tikki trembled with rage, but Marinette merely smiled bitterly and waited out the storm.

“Enough!” Chloe shouted, surprising Marinette for the second time that day.

Apparently, the rest of the class was surprised too, because they got quiet.

“All of you are ridiculous, utterly ridiculous,” Chloe said, stomping down the stairs to the front of the classroom. “I hate Dupain-Cheng and even I know she’d never steal someone else’s designs.”

Adrien followed her down the steps and Marinette felt her heart lift.

He’s going to defend me! Oh, Adrien, I never should’ve doubted you.

“Guys, please, let’s not fight,” Adrien pleaded.

“She stole Lila’s designs and is making money off of them!” Alix protested.

“Look, we all know how scatter-brained Marinette can be from time to time,” Adrien placated. “Lila’s sketches probably got mixed in with hers and she thought they were hers by mistake.”

What?

“You know Marinette would never intentionally steal someone else’s designs,” the blonde continued, oblivious to the murderous gaze of his girlfriend.

Are you kidding me? Creme brulee, Adrien, you were supposed to back me up, not lend credence to Lila’s side of the story!

The room collapsed into chaos again, the students breaking into arguments over whether Marinette meant to steal Lila’s designs.

Marinette growled.

“Everyone shut up!”

The room fell silent yet again.

“Marinette,” Adrien began.

“Can it, Adrikins,” Chloe snapped.

Marinette frowned at the class. “I’ve tried to listen to all of you. I’ve tried to be there for you as a class representative, as your friend. Now – for once – you’re going to listen to me.”

She took a deep breath. “You’ve accused me of stealing Lila’s designs and selling them on my website. Here’s the problem with that: Number one, I’ve never seen Lila design anything. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I avoid her like the plague. Have any of you actually seen her design anything? Cause I’d bet a year’s supply of satin that you haven’t. Number two, I don’t have a website.”

“Yes, you do,” Max said with a frown. “Markov and I helped you make it.”

Marinette snorted. “Yeah, and I deleted it eight months ago after a bunch of anonymous users spammed it with negative comments – come to think of it, that was probably this class. So thanks for that. I really appreciate you all sabotaging me professionally.”

Thank goodness I’m MDC or that might’ve actually ended my fashion career.

“Number three,” Marinette continued, “I have never stolen a design from anyone. Never. I don’t need to steal other people’s designs to be successful. Or have you forgotten that the Style Queen herself, Audrey Bourgeois, wanted me to be her apprentice? Or that I designed for Jagged Stone long before Lila ever stepped foot in Paris?”

Alya gasped. “That’s why you’re jealous of Lila! Because she introduced Jagged to MDC and now Jagged commissions him instead of you.”

Marinette facepalmed.

Did any of what I just said register in her brain?

“First off, MDC is a woman,” Marinette said. “Second, I introduced her to Jagged because I couldn’t be his designer full time. Child labor laws and all that. Lila’s never met MDC or Jagged Stone, so she certainly couldn’t have introduced them and they’d both be disgusted by how Lila is using their names for five seconds of fame.”

“Marinette, could I speak to you for a second?” Adrien pleaded. Marinette ignored him.

“You’re lying,” Alya accused.

“Where’s your proof?” Marinette shot back. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ms. Bustier approaching their classroom with several visitors. She smirked.

Alya gaped at her. “What do you mean where’s my proof? Where’s your proof?”

“Really? You’re asking me for proof after you lapped up Lila’s stories without so much as a google search? I thought a good reporter always checked her sources, Alya.” Marinette shook her head in disappointment. “Such double standards. Lucky for you, I came prepared.”

Chapter Text

The bell rang and Ms. Bustier stepped through the doorway, looking rather faint. “Class we have some very important visitors with us today. If you’d please give them your attention.”

The teacher barely seemed to register Marinette sitting on her desk as she put as much distance as possible between her and the six-meter long crocodile that followed her into the room.

Kim yelped and jumped into Alix’s arms. Rose and Sabrina clambered up on the desk, yelling for everyone to take the high ground. Mylene squeaked and hid behind Ivan. Lila staggered backwards, only to lose her balance and land hard on her bottom, mere meters from the enormous reptile.

“Fang!” Marinette jumped off the desk and enveloped the scaly beast in a hug, paying no mind to her terrified classmates.

“Oh stars, she’s finally lost it,” Alya said, numb with horror. Mad as she might be at Marinette, she had no wish to watch the girl get eaten alive.

“Where’s my favorite mini-rocker?” The voice of Jagged Stone, international rockstar, shook most of the class out of their stupor.

After all, if Jagged Stone was here, then the crocodile in question must be Fang, who was reputed to be quite the cuddler behind all those sharp teeth.

Looking up from rubbing Fang’s belly, Marinette recognized two of her favorite people in the entire world.

“Uncle Jagged! Penny!”

She rushed to pull them into a group hug and the class watched in shock at the familiar way she conversed with Jagged Stone and his manager.

Fang grumpily rolled over and tottered towards the closest human, seeking more tummy rubs. Unfortunately, the nearest human was Lila, who shrieked and clambered backwards.

“Get it away, get it away, get it away!”

Marinette shared a look of exasperation with Penny before she left the group hug to pull Fang away from Lila.

“Aww, Lila, Fang just wants some tummy scratches. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Then the bluenette smirked. “Although he has been known to enjoy roasted liar from time to time.”

Lila paled.

The class finally recovered and soon Jagged was inundated with requests for autographs, pictures, and interviews. Contrary to his modus operandi, the rockstar refused them all, merely replying,

“Maybe later.”

Questions about why he was there likewise remained unanswered, though Jagged couldn’t stifle his snort when Alya asked him if he was there to surprise Lila.

Lila relaxed when he didn’t deny it.

Just when the class was beginning to get rowdy again, three women walked into the room. Though everyone recognized Alya’s and Lila’s mothers from pictures or Career Day, the last woman was a stranger.

“And you’re certain I need to be here?” Ambassador Rossi questioned. “Lila is usually quite self-sufficient.”

At the sound of her mother’s voice, Lila turned white as a sheet. Marinette watched in smug satisfaction her eyes darted between her mother, Jagged Stone, and her classmates in undisguised panic.

“Positive, Ambassador Rossi,” the stranger replied. “I would not pull you away from your work if it weren’t a matter of the utmost importance.”

“Ms. Blanchet, Ambassador Rossi, Mrs. Cesaire,” Marinette was all Ladybug confidence as she shook hands with the two women. “Thank you for taking time out of your very busy schedules on our behalf.”

“Of course,” Ambassador Rossi replied. “But what exactly am I here for? Lila hasn’t mentioned any trouble at school.”

“Would you identify your daughter for me, Ambassador Rossi?” Ms. Blanchet asked.

Ambassador Rossi blinked in confusion, but pointed out her daughter without protest. Lila fiddled nervously with her bracelets.

“And you, Mrs. Cesaire? Which student is your daughter, Alya?”

Marlena Cesaire frowned as she identified her daughter, wondering what Alya had gotten herself into now.

“I apologize, Mrs. Cesaire, Ambassador Rossi, this must come as a shock,” Ms. Blanchet began. “Nevertheless, it has to be done.”

Stepping forward to the desk where Lila and Alya sat, she dropped a thick manila folder in front of her.

“Lila Rossi, Alya Cesaire, you have both been served. You have thirty days to appear before court to answer the complaints within this folder. If you fail to do so, you will receive a default judgement of guilty.”

“What?” Lila looked truly confused, gaze shifting between the folder and Ms. Blanchet as if she might take it back.

“That can’t be right,” Ambassador Rossi said, after a shocked pause. “Lila is only fifteen. What possible reason could anyone have to sue her?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that without express permission from the young lady and her guardian,” Ms. Blanchet replied.

With an annoyed huff, Ambassador Rossi made her way to the desk and scooped up the file Lila had yet to touch.

Flipping through it, her frown grew deeper and deeper.

“Slander? Defamation of character? Destruction of private property? Reckless endangerment of herself and others?” The woman had to pause to collect herself. “Ma’am, are you sure you’ve got the right girl? This doesn’t sound anything like my Lila.”

“She received it for a reason, Ambassador,” Ms. Blanchet said stonily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be off. I’m running late for an appointment.”

She walked out the door, paying no mind to the glares following her.

“Ambassador Rossi? I have something that might shed a bit of light on the situation,” Marinette suggested meekly.

Please take the bait, take the bait, take the bait.

“I don’t see how it could possibly make these charges make sense, but if you think it will help, please go ahead.”

As Marinette stepped over to the computer, several students started to say something about how Marinette had it out for Lila, but the cold glare of Penny Rolling froze them in their seats.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Cesaire opened Alya’s folder, shocked at the sheer number of cease and desist orders her daughter had received. Each was accompanied by the warning that if Alya didn’t comply, she could be sued for libel.

Her hands shook as she reached one labeled ‘Cease and Desist: On Behalf of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’ Her daughter’s best friend had a cease and desist order for her? What had Alya done?

With trembling fingers, Marinette pressed play.

Please believe me.

“Oh, yes, Ladybug and I are very close.” The onscreen Lila smirked. “Practically joined at the hip! She trusts me with everything!”

Mrs. Cesaire frowned as she recognized Alya’s watermark.

The video cut to another figure, this one in a red suit with black dots. Though the video was shaky, the sound was good quality and Ladybug’s frustration was palpable. She grabbed the person holding the camera and swung out of the way, just in time to avoid a pink laser beam.

“Is this about that Liar-la girl again? For the last time, I don’t know her. I save her when she’s in danger or akumatized, like I would any other citizen. We have no relationship outside of that. The Ladyblogger never should’ve posted an interview with her. Besides being completely false, it also paints a target on her back. Now would you please get away from the akuma fight before you get yourself killed?”

The spotted super-heroine swung off and the video shifted again. As the real life Lila clenched her teeth, video Lila blushed and looked down in false modesty.

“Well, it’s not something I really like to talk about much, but Jagged Stone did write a song for me after I saved his kitten. He said it was the least he could do after a jet engine burst my eardrum while I was trying to get his kitten off the runway.”

This time, the video switched to an interview with Jagged Stone, who was laughing heartily.

“No way, man,” he chuckled. “I’d never get a kitten. It’s, like, the least rock’n roll pet you can have!”

It didn’t stop there. Lila watched, fuming, as her empire of lies was decimated by fact after fact. When the screen finally went black, Ambassador Rossi turned to Lila, horrified.

“Lila, what have you done?”

A panicking Lila called upon the only other tool in her arsenal.

“She’s lying, Mama!” she cried. “Marinette hates me! She’s been trying to ruin my life ever since I got here.”

“So all that footage is fake then?”

“Yes!”

Mrs. Cesaire spoke up. “All the footage of Lila has Alya’s watermark on it. I know for a fact that she’s not skilled enough for that.”

Alya looked sick. “Lila, you were lying? This whole time?”

Lila looked helplessly between her mother and her classmates. “I – ”

“Let me help you out there,” Jagged said. “I’ve never owned a cat. Today is the first time I’ve ever seen Miss. Rossi. And all of you would’ve known that if you had bothered to listen to Mari here, who is my niece.”

“Honorary niece,” Penny corrected, but without heat.

“Semantics,” Jagged replied, waving a hand. “Point is, you had every reason to trust Marinette and yet you decided to trust some new girl over her – even when Mari had proof. What kind of friend does that?”

Suddenly, the class was spouting apologies like there was no tomorrow.

Are they actually sorry? Or do they just want an in with Jagged?

When Marinette didn’t respond, they quickly shifted to berating and yelling at Lila. Marinette sighed and stepped towards Ambassador Rossi, who seemed to be in shock.

“Are you alright, ma’am? I know this is probably difficult for you.”

“I just,” the woman faltered. “I feel like I don’t even know my own daughter. How long has this been going on?”

Compassion grew in Marinette’s heart for the woman who had been blindsided by her daughter’s true nature.

“At least since she arrived in Paris,” Marinette said. “Ambassador Rossi, Lila needs help. Help that I’m not sure she can get in Paris, given the emotional terrorist running rampant. At the very least, she needs to transfer out of this school.”

“Why is that?” Ambassador Rossi sounded defensive and Marinette mentally smacked herself for pushing too hard too fast.

“This school – this class in particular – has an astonishingly high rate of akumatization,” Marinette said. “It’s roughly eighty percent higher than the average for Paris. While we don’t know exactly what akumatization does to a person, it’s generally agreed that it has a negative impact on mental health. For Lila to improve, she needs to get away from that.” Inclining her head in the direction of the class, she added, “There’s also the fact that she’s likely to be a social outcast from now on if she stays here.”

“I see.” Ambassador Rossi looked at the room full of angry teenagers and decided the pigtailed girl was probably right. “By the way, has the school closed down because of akuma attacks before?”

Weird question but okay.

“Sometimes. Generally not for more than a day though.”

Ambassador Rossi sighed. “I was afraid of that. It seems Lila has been lying to me as well. We’ll need to talk to the principal and to get everything straightened out, I suppose. Where is your teacher?”

Marinette pointed to the desk, where Ms. Bustier had pulled her feet up into the chair and was staring at Fang in fear.

“Never mind. Lila, come with me. We need to speak with your principal and then discuss the consequences for your actions.”

“Mama! You don’t really believe these strangers over your own daughter, do you?” She sniffled pathetically.

“Yes.” Ambassador Rossi said shortly. “Now come.”

Lila’s mask dropped. In the blink of an eye, pitiful despair turned to murderous rage.

“You,” she snarled, locking gazes with Marinette. “This is all your fault.”

Marinette winked at her.

Shrieking, Lila threw herself at the bluenette, her only thought to make Marinette pay.

You want to attack me? Your doom, Lila.

Marinette sidestepped the clumsy attempt at a tackle and yanked Lila’s arms behind her back.

“Could someone get a teacher that’s not terrified of crocodiles in here?”

Chloe ran out of the room. As Lila struggled to get free, Marinette twisted her arms so that any movement gave Lila excruciating pain.

“Give it up, Lila.”

“Make me, Marinette,” Lila hissed. She slammed her foot down on Marinette’s toes, only to yelp in pain as her ankle twisted the wrong way and the heel broke off her shoe.

Marinette smirked.

And Papa said steel-toed flats were impractical.

Chloe returned with a teacher from the grade above them, a balding man who stared at the scene in bemusement.

“What happened here?”

“If you’d be so kind as to escort Ambassador Rossi and Lila Rossi to Mr. Damocles’s office, that would be lovely,” Marinette said, a razor sharp smile on her face. “They have a few things they need to discuss with our beloved principal, but Lila twisted her ankle, so she needs extra support.”

The male teacher looked at the crocodile, the death glares, the terrified teacher, and the girl being physically restrained at the front of the room, then decided he didn’t want to know.

Marinette released Lila, who would’ve gone straight back to attacking her if not for Ambassador Rossi grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the teacher.

“Quit making this worse for yourself,” she snapped. Glancing at Marinette she said, “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior.”

Lila glared at her mother, then bit out a rapid-fire stream of Italian that caused Ambassador Rossi to pick her up and walk out of the room, Lila screeching in outrage at being manhandled.

The teacher followed them, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

Marinette noted absentmindedly that whatever new powers she was developing, they hadn’t affected her fluency – or lack thereof – in Italian.

Maybe I have to hear it regularly?

“Woah, Marinette! That was so cool!” Kim yelled.

“Yeah,” Alix agreed. “Where’d you learn moves like that?”

Marinette blinked. “I’ve been taking martial arts lessons for several months now. Ever since I started worrying that someone in this class would attack me.”

“Alya, I need to talk to you out in the hall,” Mrs. Cesaire said. Alya began to resist, but her mother left no room for argument.

“We wouldn’t have hurt you!” Rose protested.

Marinette scoffed, eyes traveling over everyone who had betrayed her. “You lot have been spreading rumors about me for months. You’ve ruined my projects. You’ve tripped me and laughed. I’ve been hurting for a long time. Don’t try to act like you care now.”

“But that’s Lila’s fault!” Sabrina pointed out.

“Really?” Marinette said. “So Lila held a gun to your head and forced you to trip me? Forced you to believe her over me? Forced you to destroy my schoolwork?”

”Marinette, don’t you think you’re going a little too far?” Adrien asked.

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Too far? Are you kidding me, Adrien?” Marinette spat, angry tears spilling down her face. Months worth of suppressed anger and bitterness spilled out of her mouth like poison. “Why am I always the one in the wrong with you? I’ve been miserable for months because of them and now you’re upset because I won’t pretend everything’s okay? You said you were on my side, but you never stood up for me and you turned a blind eye every time someone hurt me. Crepes, you lectured me on being a better person when I was the victim. How is that being on my side?”

Making eye contact with each of her classmates, she continued, “All I ever did was try to protect my friends from a liar.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess the joke’s on me, since none of you were ever actually my friends.”

Nino frowned. “Look, dudette, we know we messed up and we’re sorry. We’re still your friends though.”

“If you were my friends, you would have listened to my side of the story,” Marinette countered. “If you were my friends, you wouldn’t have called me a bully and a liar without proof – and the word of one person is not proof, Alya. If you were my friends, we wouldn’t be in this situation, because you would’ve trusted me. I always had proof that Lila was lying. You were just never willing to listen. How can I call you my friends when you don’t have the decency to even let me defend myself?”

“You don’t mean that,” Alix said, but she sounded uncertain.

“We’re really sorry,” Juleka mumbled. “Can’t we just go back to the way things were before?”

“Please? We’ll never desert you again!”

Marinette could feel herself weakening.

I don’t want things to be the way they were before though!

“Do you people even hear yourselves?” Chloe snapped. “How dare you ask Marinette to pretend that nothing happened? You tried to ruin her life!”

“You’re hardly one to talk, Chloe,” Max retorted. “Given that you’ve been trying to make Marinette’s life miserable for years now.”

“At least I take responsibility for actions,” Chloe shot back, swinging her ponytail behind her shoulder. “Have I been absolutely terrible to Marinette? Yes. But I’m working on it. Here’s the difference between me and you: I don’t expect Marinette to be my friend after I’ve treated her like dirt. I don’t try to force her to forgive me or guilt her into hanging out with me.”

“We didn’t do that,” Ivan protested.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Really? And another thing, I didn’t break Marinette’s trust. She never expected me to be on her side. But you were supposed to be her friends and you deserted her for a liar. So don’t you ever try to tell Marinette that she has some sort of obligation to be your friend. If she wants to take you losers back, that’s her business. But don’t you dare try to pressure her into it. That ship sailed the day you picked Lila over her.”

Marinette gawked at her former bully, surprised at the passionate defense.

“I know I look fabulous, but staring is still rude, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe said. Rather than Chloe’s normal haughty tone, it sounded almost teasing.

Marinette smiled.

Maybe there’s something to be salvaged from this dumpster fire after all.

Unfortunately, then her classmates had to ruin it by yelling at Chloe.

Marinette sighed and turned to Ms. Bustier.

“I’m going home.”

“You can’t – ”

Fang growled at her.

“I mean, that sounds like an excellent idea. Why don’t you – ”

Marinette didn’t wait around to hear the end of the sentence. Two adults and a crocodile followed her out.

Walking down the hallway, someone called her name.

“Marinette!”

She glanced back to see Alya chasing them and sighed.

“You two go ahead. I’ll talk to her and then head home.”

Jagged frowned. “I don’t like leaving you alone with these snakes.”

Marinette forced a smile. “Alya was my best friend. I’ll be fine. And if you keep hanging around here, you’ll miss your flight to New York.”

“Alright, but if you need us, call. We’ll come straight back.”

Jagged and Penny headed towards the door, leaving Marinette and Alya alone in the hallway.

“Girl, I’m so sorry,” Alya said. “I should’ve believed you over Lila.”

“As long as you’ve known me, yeah, you should have.”

“It’s just, interviewing her got me so many views. I wanted to believe it was true, so I ignored all evidence to the contrary. I ignored you. Can you ever forgive me?”

You didn’t just ignore me, you helped Lila torment me.

“I don’t know.”

“Great! Any chance you could get me an interview with – wait, what?”

“I said, I don’t know if I can forgive you. I guess it depends on your reaction to the next new, shiny thing to come along.”

“Oh, come on, girl,” Alya pleaded. “I said I was sorry.”

“And I appreciate that,” Marinette replied. “But it doesn’t change what you’ve done and it doesn’t prove you’ll act differently in the future. Maybe we can be friends again someday, but right now, I need some space.”

“Are you serious? Marinette, you’re blowing this way out of proportion! We’re best friends! We can get through this!”

Does she really think things can go back to the way they used to be?

“Really, Alya? You spread lies about me for months. Less than an hour ago, you were planning to break into my room and destroy my property! Am I supposed to just brush all of that under the rug? You realize I have grounds to sue you for slander and libel, right?”

“But it’s all Lila’s fault! She’s the one who misled me!”

“She might’ve misled you, but you’re the one who didn’t check your sources,” Marinette pointed out. “You’re the one who chose to believe I was jealous, rather than looking out for you. You’re the one who betrayed me. I never expected Lila to have my back, but you were my best friend. I trusted you. And you decimated that trust.”

She turned to go, only for Alya to tug at her arm.

“Please, Marinette, give me another chance!”

Marinette jerked back. “Let me go!”

Alya gasped, suddenly dropping Marinette’s arm as if it were on fire. “Why do you have that?”

Marinette looked down to see the fox Miraculous in plain view.

Ganache, I’m doomed. How do I explain this?

Then, Trixx phased through Marinette’s purse.

“I would think it would be obvious,” he said. “She’s the new fox heroine.”

“But I’m the fox heroine, Trixx!”

Trixx scoffed, eyes dancing with mingled anger and mirth. “You couldn’t even see through the brunette’s lies. A fox always knows the truth from illusion. You, Alya Cesaire, are no fox.”

“What?” Alya looked heartbroken.

“Ladybug followed your blog, Alya,” Marinette said softly. “She admired you. But you broke her trust. You invaded her privacy by constantly asking about her identity, you caused her tons of problems by propagating the Ladynoir ship, and you put a civilian in danger by claiming that she was Ladybug’s best friend.”

“Shut up!” Alya shouted, tears streaming down her face. “I was an incredible fox – I am an incredible fox! Give me back my Miraculous!”

She lunged for Marinette again and Trixx ducked into the pocketbook just as two teachers walked around the corner.

“Miss. Cesaire! Attacking another student? Principal’s office, now!”

Marinette winced as Alya sent her a death glare before stomping sulkily towards the principal’s office.

“Well, that’s the only time this school’s ‘punish first, find the truth second’ approach has worked in my favor,” she remarked as she ducked out of the school. “Excellent misdirection, Trixx.”

Trixx chuckled. “That’s what we foxes do.”

Marinette slipped around a corner. “I’m relatively certain at least one person is going to get akumatized over this morning’s events. What do you say we transform now and try to get the drop on them?”

“Excellent plan, Marinette,” Tikki chirped.

Though all she really wanted to do was sit down and have a good cry, Marinette transformed and jumped up onto the school roof, settling behind the air conditioning units and tucking the fox Miraculous into her yo-yo.

“Now all I have to do is wait.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Baby Bird.”

Dick sighed inwardly at the stiff set of Damian’s shoulders. He’d spent so long getting the kid to open up to him and now they were right back to fight or flight instincts.

Stupid comas.

“Come on in, Damian!” he said with false cheer. “There’s no need to stand in the doorway like that. Sit down, tell me how you’ve been! I’ve missed you.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be ridiculous, Grayson. You’ve been in a coma for two months. How could you possibly have missed me?”

Despite his cold tone, he sat in the chair by Dick’s bed and Dick grinned.

“I’ve been awake for three days and you haven’t been by once,” he said, putting a hand over his heart dramatically. “Truly, Baby Bird, I’m hurt.”

Damian pressed his lips together, looking away.

Dick blinked. He’d been expecting a snarky comeback, or at least an eye roll. At this point, he’d even settle for one of Damian’s scoffs.

What happened while I was under? I haven’t seen him so closed off since he first arrived.

“How’s school?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“My classmates are imbeciles and my teachers are worse.”

Dick chuckled. “You’re light-years ahead of them. That doesn’t mean they’re imbeciles, Damian.”

Damian just shrugged in response and Dick’s brows furrowed.

He never passes up a chance to complain about what a waste of time school is.

“And how are things with Bruce and the rest of the family?”

“Fine.”

“Don’t tell me they’re imbeciles too?” Dick kept his tone light and teasing, but watched Damian’s body language closely.

Again, Damian just shrugged.

Dick sighed. He knew the reason for Damian’s closed-off demeanor.

“Damian. Me getting bashed in the head by that second-rate crook and going into a coma was not your fault. I do not blame you.”

Eyes widening, Damian went unnaturally still.

Was I too blunt?

After a long moment, Damian pulled himself together. “I failed to protect you. Father has taught me to take responsibility for my actions. I am to blame for your injuries.”

“Bruce is right that you should take responsibility for your actions,” Dick said. “That doesn’t mean taking responsibility for other people’s actions though. And last I checked, it was Cooper that attacked me, not you.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you’ve secretly been working for Cobra?”

Damian ignored his attempt at a joke. “Lack of action is action in and of itself. I made numerous mistakes. I should’ve predicted that Cooper would get violent. I should’ve gotten you and your partner medical attention rather than chasing Cooper. I should’ve – ”

“Everyone miscalculates occasionally, Damian,” Dick interrupted. The teenager scowled and Dick continued quickly. “I know your mother taught you that Al Ghuls never failed. I know the League expected perfection from you. But that’s not possible and we don’t – I don’t – expect it of you. There will always be things you regret, things you wish you’d done differently. But you have to make peace with them, or you’ll spend your life drowning in your own regret.”

Damian abruptly stood, anger flashing across his face. “What would you know about regret, Grayson? I grew up as an assassin. That doesn’t just go away now that I’m trying to be better. Tell me, have you ever murdered a man in cold blood? Promised him mercy then killed him anyway? Have you ever caused the death of an innocent and injury to the person you care about most? No. So don’t talk to me about regret.” He strode for the door.

“Actually, I have.”

Damian stopped short, turning around. “What?”

“I’m not saying that it’s anything like what you’ve been through, but I have done all of those things,” Dick said hesitantly.

Damian crossed the room in three steps and sat back down. “Explain,” he said, voice tight.

Dick exhaled slowly and considred the teenager that was both little brother and son to him. Hesitantly, he said, “Are you aware that Kori and I had a daughter?”

Damian blinked. “Adopted, I assume?”

Dick shook his head. “No, she was biologically ours.”

“But Tamaraneans and Earthens are incapable of reproduction together!”

“That’s what we thought too,” Dick replied wryly. He paused to figure out how to word the next part. “Kori and I got married young – fighting for your life daily tends to put things in perspective. We weren’t trying for kids – like I said, we didn’t think we could even have them. That day I found out she was pregnant – stars, it was simultaneously the most terrifying and exciting day of my life.”

Dick smiled wistfully at the memory, already fighting the burn of tears. “We went to Tamaran for the pregnancy. Kori wanted doctors familiar with her physiology and I wanted our daughter to be connected to both sides of her heritage. She actually had two separate birth certificates – Tamaran has a record of the birth of Mariand’r, daughter of Koriand’r, while the U.S. has a record of the birth of Mar’i Grayson.”

“Isn’t ‘mari’ the Tamaranean word for night? And ‘and’r’ is fire?”

Dick’s mouth dropped open. “You’re learning Tamaranean?”

“You named your daughter after your superhero ship name?”

“Hey, Kori picked the name, not me. Speaking of which, she’s going to be so excited that you’re learning Tamaranean! How long have you been studying?”

“A while,” Damian said evasively. “Now continue please.”

Really, I should’ve known better than to try to derail a conversation with Damian. If nothing else, he is focused.

“Right, so anyway,” Dick sighed, “roughly a year after she was born, the wrong people found out my identity. They kidnapped the three of us. I was left in Gotham with some idiot that thought I was Jason, while Mar’i and Kori were taken to Paris – I would guess because the police force there is notoriously bad at dealing with anything remotely out of the norm.”

Just say it. Quick and clinical, like a debrief.

“They killed Mar’i. And they forced me to watch.”

Damian’s grip on the armrest of the chair abruptly tightened. Dick took a shuddering breath, the memories rushing over him like a tsunami.

“They injected metallic chromium straight into her bloodstream, Damian. Tamaraneans are all allergic to chromium, but it’s so much worse for children. Mar’i’s own energy tore her apart from the inside out. Stars, I – ”

Dick broke off, as a sob wracked his chest. Taking deep breaths, he struggled to regain his composure.

“They would’ve killed Kori too, except she destroyed them before they could. And through the whole thing, I was stuck in Bludhaven, unable to help but knowing it was my fault. When I finally broke free, I interrogated and killed my captor then headed to Paris, but it was too late.”

He looked Damian in the eye. “So yes, I have murdered a man in cold blood after promising mercy. Yes, I have caused the death of an innocent. Worse, I caused the death of my own daughter. And I let Kori be hurt, all because I wasn’t careful enough with my identity, wasn’t fast enough to take out our captors, wasn’t good enough. I have so many regrets, Damian.”

Damian looked stricken. “I spoke without thinking, Grayson. I should not have said what I did.”

Dick held up a hand.

“That’s not why I’m telling you this, Dami.” Suddenly feeling old, he exhaled heavily. “You’re always going to have regrets. Guilt for the people you couldn’t save, things you wish you’d done differently. Lord knows I do. But you can’t let those things control you. If you do, then the bad guys have already won.”

Damian looked at him thoughtfully. The silence stretched on and Dick shifted uncomfortably.

“What?”

“When you took over as Batman, you said you didn’t want a Robin.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I always assumed you considered Drake and I inept. It made me more determined than ever to become Robin. But it was never about that, was it? It was because you couldn’t stomach the thought of one of us getting hurt, wasn’t it?”

Dick looked away.

“Thank you for caring, Grayson.”

“You can thank me by putting away this notion of being responsible for my injury.”

“You’re really not mad?”

“Damian. It wasn’t your fault. And even if it was, it wouldn’t matter. I love you, Baby Bird. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Damian turned bright red, but seemed pleased.

“Besides, another two weeks and I’ll be back to 100%, I guarantee,” Dick added before the moment could get awkward.

“That’s not how head injuries work.”

“Sure it is. I learned trapeze and gymnastics with no spotter and no safety nets. You know how many concussions I’ve walked off?”

“Well, that explains your lack of intellect at least,” Damian teased.

“Hey!”

The offended shout gained Kori’s attention and she stuck her head in the door.

“Everything okay in here?”

“Damian’s calling me dumb,” Dick said petulantly.

Kori laughed and Dick fell for her all over again.

“Darling, you should be used to this by now. Insults are practically Damian’s love language,” she said, shooting Damian a warm smile to reassure him that she was teasing. “Did you two work everything out?”

Dick glanced at Damian, who had finally relaxed and wore the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah, I think we’re good.”

Chapter Text

The car jerked to a halt in the Manor driveway. “You want to do what now?”

“Spar with Jason,” Dick replied, practically vibrating with energy. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a good spar.”

He cannot be serious.

Kori raised an eyebrow. “There’s a reason for that, you know.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Kori.”

“You’ve been in a coma for two months!”

“I’ve been awake for a week, Kori. I need to start getting back into the swing of things. It’s not a big deal.”

How dare you!

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Not a big deal? I thought you were going to die! By X’Hal, you would’ve died if Zatanna hadn’t been in the area!”

Dick blinked in confusion. “What? I thought this was just another concussion. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“In front of Damian? When he already blames himself?”

Dick looked stricken. “Aces, no.”

“And another thing,” Kori continued angrily, pulling into the Wayne Manor driveway and jerking the car to a halt, “it’s not ‘just another concussion.’ It’s brain damage! It’s you getting awful migraines or not recognizing me or struggling with math you’ve understood for decades. And it doesn’t just hurt you. It hurts me, it hurts Damian, it hurts the entire family because you just laugh it off and return to business as usual. If this happened to anyone else, you’d do anything to make sure they recovered before they returned to patrol. How is your life less valuable than ours?”

Dick cursed. “I’m so sorry, Kori. I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Idiot,” Kori muttered, but the heat in her voice was gone. One hand reached to caress his cheek. “What happens when magic isn’t enough? Don’t you know it would kill me to lose you?”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Dick reassured her, leaning his forehead against hers. “We’ll put together a recovery plan when we get home, okay? And I’ll actually follow it this time, okay?”

“You promise?”

“Promise.” He sealed his promise with a kiss and Kori melted into it, paying no mind to the tears still trickling down her cheeks.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she whispered.

His lips curled into the smile she loved so much. “I’ll try not to.”

She pulled away. “I’m going to go grab your Nightwing suit.”

And remind Bruce that if he guilt trips Dick into rejoining patrol early, I will end him.

“I thought you might want to work on upgrades for the suit while you’re not patrolling,” she explained, at Dick’s look of confusion. “Would you wait here? I’d like this to be a quick stop and we’ll be here till midnight if Bruce pulls you into a case.”

“As you wish.” He blew her a kiss. “Though I don’t know how I’ll survive without you.”

“Dork.”

Climbing out of the car, Kori walked towards the house at a brisk pace, giggling when a giant dog barreled into her with a joyful woof.

“Aww, I missed you too, Titus,” she crooned, gathering the Great Dane into her arms. “Who’s a good boy?”

“Koriand’r. What brings you to the Manor?”

She nearly jumped at Damian’s abrupt, soundless appearance.

“Dick got discharged a day early,” Kori replied, once her heart rate had calmed. “He’s doing better than the doctors expected. At least, that’s what they said. Personally, I think the nurses just got tired of trying to get him back in bed.”

“That does sound like Grayson,” Damian agreed, a hint of a smile crossing his face.

“I’m just here to pick up his spare Nightwing suit, since it’ll be several weeks before he’s able to patrol again. I’ve been told it’s very important that he ease back into normal activity slowly.”

“Good luck convincing him of that.”

Kori groaned. “I swear, sometimes it feels like Dick has spent so much time around metas and aliens that he’s forgotten that he’s only human. And while I know he won’t intentionally do anything that would delay or impair his recovery, his idea of ‘normal’ and ‘safe’ is pretty skewed.”

“You just described our entire family,” Damian deadpanned. “With the possible exception of Pennyworth.”

“Fair enough,” Kori laughed. “I do feel like I’ve been semi-successful at convincing him this time around, but we’ll have to wait and see. Do you know where your father and Alfred are? I’d like to talk to them, see if they have any tips for me.”

Abruptly, Damian stiffened, eyes frosting over. Kori frowned.

Is he upset with Bruce or with me? And why?

When he spoke again, his voice was carefully detached. “Isn’t that the kind of thing you should ask a doctor about?”

“The doctors did not understand when I said acrobatics was as natural to Dick as breathing,” Kori explained. “And it’s not like I can tell them that he moonlights as Gotham’s most acrobatic vigilante!”

The corners of Damian’s lips twitched upwards at her quip, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “I see. I believe Father is in the Batcave, working on a case with Drake. Pennyworth is most likely in the kitchen.”

Although his tone betrayed nothing, Damian glanced wistfully toward the Manor and settled his hand on Titus’s head, absentmindedly petting him.

Bruce, you idiot.

“Okay, in that case, I’m going to go grab that suit and talk to them. Would you let Dick know I’m going to be a little longer please?”

If anyone can cheer up Damian, it’ll be Dick.

Damian nodded and Kori grinned, passing him the car keys. Too quick to evade, she wrapped him in a hug and dropped a kiss on his forehead. She ignored his half-hearted protests against the affectionate gesture.

“Thanks, Baby Bird.”

Time to skin a bat.

It took ten minutes of talking of talking circles with Bruce before Kori lost her patience.

“D’argo, Bruce,” she said heatedly, “are you secretly cursed to be physically incapable of dealing with your emotions? Because that is the only acceptable explanation for your unwillingness to discuss this with me.”

She’d already sent Tim up to the kitchen to get some food. He looked halfway to falling asleep at his computer (again) and couldn’t tell her the last time he’d eaten.

Kori had hoped that with his protege gone, Bruce would open up to her. Instead, the man had clammed up like a stubborn narloc.

“You’re hurting Damian,” Kori continued angrily. “You’re widening the gap between you and him and he thinks it’s somehow his fault, even though he’s done nothing but try to be a better son since he arrived here seven years ago. I thought you two were doing better, so what happened? What are you trying to accomplish by pushing him away?”

Bruce sighed, suddenly looking old. “I found the adoption papers. From when I was gone. I know that you and Dick were planning to adopt Damian.”

Kori raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His reply was slow, measured. “Damian improved by leaps and bounds when he was living with you. And he’s comfortable with you and Dick in a way he’s never been around me. I’m bad at emotions, at forming meaningful connections with people. I only reinforce those behaviors in Damian. I’m not good for him,” Bruce admitted. Though his face was impassive, his eyes told a story of regret and pain.

Wayne men. The truth is always in their eyes.

“He needs you. Needs people that show him affection and encourage him to do the same. He doesn’t need me,” Bruce finished.

“That’s rubbish.”

Bruce’s eyes widened and Kori wondered how long it had been since someone had dared to call out the mighty Batman.

Nevertheless, someone has to tell this man how wrong he is.

“First,” Kori began, adopting the authoritative tone of voice she used in court, “Damian is comfortable around Dick and me because we are comfortable around him. If you’d relax a little so would he. Second: Yes, you’re bad at emotions. Yet somehow, Dick, Jason, and Tim know you love them. Damian, on the other hand, still worries that you hate him with every fiber of your being. You need to fix that. Third: I don’t know where you got the idea that Damian having a good relationship with Dick and me somehow negates his need for a relationship with you, but you better drop it right now. Damian needs his father, regardless of what you think about your own shortcomings. Fourth: You’re not taking Damian’s wishes into account. He wants a relationship with you. Have the guts to respect that, Bruce.”

Bruce blinked at her, twice, which for him was the equivalent of jaw-dropping, eye-bulging shock. His mouth moved, but it seemed he couldn’t find the words he wanted. Finally, he asked,

“How?”

“Spend time with him more often. Get his take on some of your cases. Relax around him. Take the time to learn his interests outside of crime-fighting. His art class is doing an exhibition soon. You could start with that.”

Bruce looked at her hopelessly. “But Damian never shows me his artwork.”

“Have you asked?” Kori countered.

“Before I got lost in the time stream.”

“A lot has changed since then, Bruce. Not to mention, if he’s willing to show this piece to anyone who walks in, he probably won’t have an issue with you seeing it.”

“Alright, I’ll try.”

“You’ll do better than try, or so help me I will inform every pizza place in town that Brucie Wayne just adores pineapple on his pizza.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.”

Ten minutes and several additional threats later, Kori left the Batcave with Dick’s Nightwing suit and the satisfaction of a job well-done.

Chapter Text

Warning: Non-consensual transformation into a supervillain. Non-consensual telepathy. Canon (MLB) typical violence.

Deep in the heart of Paris’s most affluent neighborhood, a reclusive fashion designer chuckled darkly. In his hands, a glowing white butterfly absorbed dark energy, slowly turning black.

“It’s finally ready, Nathalie,” said Gabriel Agreste. “My study of the Grimoire has finally paid off. This will be the akuma to defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir once and for all.”

Nathalie Sancoeur, secretary to the aforementioned fashion designer turned supervillain, watched as the akuma sucked the light straight out of the room, shuddering despite herself.

“Yes, Mr. Agreste,” she said, voice betraying none of her emotions. “Will Mayura be required for this outting?”

“No, I am quite ready to provide a sentimonster if necessary,” Gabriel said. “And we have a perfect situation on our hands, as our ally, Miss. Rossi, is quite livid at the moment. Ladybug and Chat Noir, you will rue the day you crossed me!”

Alya fought the urge to snarl as she stormed into the principal’s office. Throwing herself down in the nearest chair, she vaguely registered that her mother, Principal Damocles, and Ambassador Rossi were deep in conversation.

“There’s no need to slam the door, Miss. Cesaire,” the principal admonished.

She gave an insincere apology, still caught up in her thoughts.

How could Ladybug replace me like that? This is all Lila’s fault!

She glared at the Italian girl.

“What’s the matter, Alya?” Lila asked sweetly. Despite her innocent tone, hatred and rage shone in her eyes. “Feeling the sting of your actions?”

“You ruined my blog,” Alya growled. “Ladybug herself trusted me and you destroyed it. Now, I can’t even – ”

She cut herself off before mentioning Rena Rogue. Lila was the last person she wanted to know about that. She clenched the arms of her chair.

“You destroyed everything.”

Lila laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Alya. You did that yourself.”

“I did not!”

“Really? Who would have had the opportunity to ask Ladybug if I was actually her best friend?” Lila tapped her finger on her chin in mock thought. “Oh, that’s right. The Ladyblogger. You. And didn’t Marinette warn you that I was a liar?”

Alya shifted uncomfortably. She’d been trying not to think about that.

“I just told you what you wanted to hear. It’s on you to check your sources.” Lila shrugged. “Not my fault that you didn’t.”

“I’m not the one at fault here,” Alya insisted. “I trusted you and you took advantage of that trust!”

“Tell me, Alya,” Lila leaned forward with a smirk. “Who’s the bigger villain? A girl that tells easily disproven stories or the journalist that presents them as fact to all of Paris? Which betrayal hurts worse? A newcomer telling stories about you or your best friend believing those stories and making your life miserable in retribution?”

“I didn’t – ”

“But you did. Just look at Marinette.”

Alya flinched.

“Poor Marinette,” Lila mocked. “It would’ve been better for her if she’d just stayed out of my way.”

Alya frowned. “Seriously? You just got destroyed in front of the whole class, the principal, and your mom and you think Marinette should’ve stayed out of your way? It’s pretty obvious that you should’ve stayed out of her way.”

Lila giggled innocently. “Doesn’t matter. I told her I’d take all her friends and I did. Do you think she’ll ever trust you all, now that she knows you’ll trust a liar over her? Now that she knows what happens when someone better comes along? Not a chance. Checkmate. I win.”

Oh, kwami. What have I done?

Nathalie sighed as Mr. Agreste’s monologue reached the ten minute mark.

“I will crush Ladybug like the bug she is and skin Chat Noir and make a coat of his pelt.”

“Furs aren’t in this season, sir.” Nathalie commented dryly. Mr. Agreste straightened abruptly, clearing his throat.

“Right. Of course. The point is that this akuma is more powerful than any before it and – with the proper host – it will ensure my victory.”

Nathalie sighed. “Sir, I really don’t think Miss. Rossi is the proper host –  ”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nathalie! With great power comes free will! Who else do you know that hates Ladybug and Chat Noir as much as we do?” Without waiting for a response, he turned away. “Now fly, my little akuma, and evilize our ally in destruction!”

Alya turned away from Lila, suddenly feeling sick.

Marinette trusted me and I called her a jealous liar. I bullied her. I attacked her.

Lila laughed. “See, Alya? It doesn’t matter if I go down now, so long as I take Marinette and Ladybug with me.”

Something fluttered in the corner of her vision and Alya twisted, distractedly replying,

“Ladybug? What does she have to do with anythi – Akuma!”

She tackled Lila away from the evil butterfly.

It looked like Lila was reaching for the akuma. But why?

She rolled off of Lila, searching the desk for something to contain the akuma.

“Mom, put an akuma alert on the Ladyblog! At Francoise Dupont.”

The adults were already cowering behind the desk, but Alya’s mother nodded and pulled her phone out with trembling fingers.

Seems like the adults ought to be the ones facing down the demon butterfly but whatever.

Grabbing Mr. Damocles’s coffee mug, she poured the coffee onto the ground.

Maybe I can trap it until Ladybug arrives?

Lila lunged towards the akuma and Alya barely pushed her out of the way in time.

“What is wrong with you?” she yelled. “That’s an akuma! Stay away!”

A resounding smack caught her attention and the akuma melted into Ambassador Rossi’s clipboard.

“No!”

Lila yanked the clipboard from her mother’s hands and Alya gasped.

“Break the clipboard,” she said loudly, hoping Lila could hear her over Hawkmoth’s lies. “Break it, Lila.”

“Not a chance, Cesaire. I’m going to destroy Marinette and Ladybug once and for all.”

Alya inched closer. “This isn’t you, Lila.”

Lila laughed derisively. “You’ve never known me, Alya.”

In response, Alya snatched the clipboard away.

Can I break the clipboard now or will the the akuma infect something else?

Lila started hissing very creative threats, grabbing at the clipboard, but Alya was more concerned by the voice in her head.

“Ladyblogger,” Hawkmoth sounded vaguely surprised. “Kindly return the akuma to Miss. Rossi.”

She began to obey without thinking, then stopped abruptly.

Wait a second, this isn’t his modus operandi. Why does he care who has the akuma?

“I’ll pass, thanks.” She gritted her teeth and stepped further away from Lila.

“You really want to let Ladybug down again? Force her to fight you again? Just give the akuma to Lila.”

Not a chance. I just need to hang on until Ladybug gets here.

Hawkmoth chuckled sinisterly. “Ladybug isn’t coming. Why would she? She doesn’t know there’s an akuma. Just give the akuma to Miss. Rossi and you can go about your day.”

He’s so persuasive.

A thought tickled at the edges of her consciousness and she fought to grab it.

“Why are you so determined to akumatize Lila? Why do you know her name?”

Because she works for you.

The answer hit her like a punch in the gut and she jerked backwards on the clipboard just as Lila grabbed it.

“Are they playing tug-of-war with the akuma?” Ambassador Rossi asked incredulously.

“Lila’s working for Hawkmoth,” Alya spat.

“Just now figured it out, Cesaire? How dumb can you get?”

“You’re horrible. I hate you.”

“Quiet!” Hawkmoth bellowed over the mind link. A jarring pain filled her skull and she fell to the ground, Lila landing beside her a moment later.

“Rossi, can you subdue her?”

“Of course, Hawkmoth.”

How can she still sound so arrogant?

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Enough,” Hawkmoth said. “Pied Piper, it’s time that all of Paris dances to your tune. Bring me the Miraculi of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Lila smirked. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Black sludge flowed over the two girls and Alya screamed in agony as the akuma swallowed them both.

Ladybug leaped to her feet as her yo-yo chimed.

Swiping it open, she frowned, then pulled out the fox Miraculous.

“Good news and bad news, Trixx. We’re not dealing with another Scarlet Moth incident, but I didn’t manage to catch the akuma before it got someone. Are you up to do an illusion without me?”

The kwami of illusion bared his teeth in a feral grin. “I’m feeling lucky. Any requests?”

“Maybe Ladybug and Marinette talking? All akumas go after Ladybug and it never hurts to have proof that Marinette isn’t Ladybug.”

“Sure thing!” Trixx stretched out a paw and Ladybug watched herself swing into the courtyard. Several police cars, inflamed and wailing, followed. Two police officers walked into the school, while the rest began to talking to students throughout the courtyard, the Marinette illusion among them.

“How much of that is you?” she asked, curiously.

Trixx smirked. “All of it. You, obviously, the police, the cars, the students, the baby in the stroller across the street. Give me another minute and I’ll have a car crash and forty more people on the scene.”

Ladybug’s mouth dropped open. “How? Rena Rouge has never done even a tenth of this! And you’re making illusions of sounds too?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said Rena is no fox,” Trixx scoffed. “Illusion isn’t limited to sight, Ladybug. I have more tricks in the tip of my tail than she could learn in a lifetime.”

I thought that Trixx loved Alya. Why didn’t he tell me she wasn’t a good fox?

Ladybug blinked at the kwami. “Okay then. While that is absolutely fascinating and also somewhat disturbing, currently, we’ve got an akuma to catch, so let’s save this discussion for later. I need to see if I can get Chat over here.”

She swiped open her yo-yo and called Chat, but it went straight to voicemail.

“I guess he’s not transformed.” Ladybug bit her lip. “I hope he gets here soon.”

A girl in orange and white stepped into the courtyard.

“Volpina, aka Lila,” Ladybug noted. “Good, this will be easy then. I just have to get the flute. Trixx, keep up the illusion and have it react to Volpina.”

Trixx frowned. “I thought you said Volpina had illusion magic.”

“She does.” Ladybug said absently, creeping to the edge of the roof. “Let’s make this quick.”

“But – ”

A haunting melody broke through the sounds of the morning and the world stilled.

Volpina lowered her flute. “Ladybug, bring me your Miraculous!”

Ladybug laughed. “What does she think that’s going to do?”

“Ah, Ladybug, why are you reaching for your earrings?” Trixx asked.

Ganache. Marinette, you idiot! Why did you assume just because she looks like Volpina that her only power is illusions? Muffins, compulsion akumas are the worst!

Panting, she forced her hands back to her sides. “Trixx, tie my hands with my yo-yo. Now.”

“How will you defeat the akuma if your hands are tied?”

“Right now,” Ladybug said, teeth gritted. “We need to make sure that I don’t give Lila my Miraculous.”

Trixx nodded and tied her hands.

Crepes, I still feel the need to go to Lila.

Below, Lila seemed to grow tired of waiting and raised her flute again.

“Croissants. Trixx, can you cover my ears?”

It was too late.

“Come to me, Ladybug,” Lila said sweetly.

Before she had a chance to fight it, Ladybug landed right behind her.

Lila smirked as she turned around. “Ah, you even tied yourself up for me! How considerate! And now, I’m going to take your Miraculous and destroy you once and for all!”

How am I going to get out of this one?

Chapter Text

Ladybug’s thoughts raced as Lila continued her monologue.

Pied Piper. So some sort of control powers via her flute. I need to get away. Trixx already got rid of the illusion of Ladybug, so that’s out as a possibility. I can’t risk revealing that I’m meta – if Paris turns on me, it could spell disaster for the entire world! But her control seems limited, so maybe –

Pied Piper raised her flute again and Ladybug kicked her in the face with all of her strength. The orange-clad villain flew back several meters, somehow keeping hold of her flute.

Ladybug advanced on her, keeping her too busy dodging to use the flute.

Where is Chat? He’s much better at close range combat than I am.

Frowning, she redoubled her efforts to get the flute. A broken light pole and three high kicks later, Pied Piper was on the ground, flute a meter away.

Ladybug put a foot on the girl’s wrists, a warning. “Stay down.”

She shifted her focus to the complex set of knots keeping her yo-yo and hands occupied.

Trixx, did you have to do such a good job tying up my hands?

She glanced around the crowd. “Is anyone here any good with knots?”

Nothing but blank stares greeted her. She sighed and returned to trying to untangle herself.

This would be so much easier if I could just detransform and then retransform.

Looking up again, she caught sight of Officer Raincomprix and waved him over. “Excuse me, would you restrain the akuma? I need to get untied.”

The officer agreed and Ladybug warned him not to let Pied Piper near her flute, then headed away from the school.

Ducking out of sight behind a building, she detransformed.

“Are you good to go, Tikki?”

“Whenever you are,” Tikki replied.

“Great, let’s reconvene with Trixx then.”

With a few whispered words, Marinette renounced the Fox Miraculous and called it again.

Trixx blinked into existence in front of her. His tail swished angrily. “Why in the name of trickery itself did you do that? You just freed Pied Piper!”

Marinette clutched at her hair. “What?”

“That officer was one of mine,” Trixx snarled. “And when you renounced me, all of my work disappeared.”

“But he interacted with the physical world!” Marinette protested.

“I just told you that illusions are more than sight,” Trixx rebuked her.

“But – ”

Trixx is a second-tier kwami. If he can do this, what can first-tier kwamis like Tikki and Plagg do?

“Marinette.” Tikki caught her attention. “Pied Piper is free, we have bigger problems!”

With difficulty, Marinette pushed her internal freak-out to the back of her mind.

“Right, okay,” she said. “This is fine. Everything is fine. Trixx.” She pointed at the kwami. “You need to recharge. That’s the first order of business.”

Trixx dove into her purse to eat one of Tikki’s macarons, still looking annoyed.

Hopefully he’s just hangry.

The sound of a flute broke the air and Marinette shoved her fingers in her ears. She flinched when Lila’s sickly sweet voice was projected directly into her mind.

“Citizens of Paris, Ladybug is now your greatest enemy. Restrain her and bring her to me.”

“You’re disgusting!” An angry voice joined Lila’s in Marinette’s mind. “Ladybug has saved your life too many times to count and this is how you repay her?”

The voice slowly faded in volume, even as it continued to berate Lila.

Marinette frowned. “That voice sounded familiar.”

“Marinette, your hands!” Tikki yelped.

As her hands clumsily tried to tie themselves together with her purse strap, the odd voice flew from Marinette’s mind. “Tikki, Trixx, help!”

Flying out of the pocketbook, Trixx headbutted her. “What’s wrong with you? You’re Marinette, not Ladybug.”

An odd shiver ran through Marinette before her hands stilled.

More magic? How many things can Trixx – no, no, I don’t want to know.

Marinette sighed. “Thanks, Trixx. But as soon as I transform, I’ll be back in her thrall. How am I supposed to defeat Pied Piper with no Chat Noir when I can’t even transform?”

Trixx rolled his eyes. “You’re thinking inside the box again. You’re one of Tikki’s bugs, act like it! Be creative!”

Marinette straightened. “You’re right, Trixx. I should play to my strengths.”

A few minutes later found Marinette peering around the corner at the school, surveilling Lila and her minions.

“Are you two sure that this is going to work?”

“Not at all.” Trixx smirked at her.

“Great,” Marinette groaned.

I wish I had a teammate here. This just had to be one of the times Chat can’t make it.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she transformed with both the fox and ladybug Miraculi.

Lady Vixen raised the flute to her lips, focusing on making her illusion solid, impenetrable.

“Lucky Mirage!”

An orange light washed over her and Lady Vixen smirked as she took on Ladybug’s appearance. Then another figure emerged from the light and Lady Vixen’s jaw dropped.

Her own eyes stared back at her from behind an orange mask. Even stranger, she could see Lady Vixen’s eyes behind the Ladybug mask. Their eyes widened in sync as Lady Vixen realized what had happened.

I’m both of us. One mind, two bodies. Twice the sensory input, twice the manpower.

She’d done this before – as Multimouse, she could split into as many as 12 tiny clones. But this felt different. For one, as Lady Vixen, she was full-sized. For another, controlling her clones came easily as Multimouse – the mouse Miraculous seemed to come with extra brainpower so that each tiny clone operated independently. As Lady Vixen, it was nearly impossible to make her second self operate independently.

 She poked the other her in the shoulder and noted that she felt the pressure of poking someone and the pain of being poked equally.

Woah, this is trippy.

The Miraculi beeped and Lady Vixen shook her head rapidly, trying to clear her head of the confusing sensations. “Right, we’ve only got four minutes to take down Pied Piper, so let’s make this fast.”

Mentally dubbing her second self Kitsune, Lady Vixen took a last glance to make sure that their respective disguises were holding and stepped into the courtyard. After a telepathic shove, Kitsune followed her, sticking to the shadows.

The people under Pied Piper’s spell surged towards Lady Vixen, but Pied Piper held up a hand and they stilled.

“Ladybug, so good of you to join us!” Pied Piper said, grinning ferally. “I don’t appreciate that fighting stance though. You might as well give me your Miraculous now. You can’t beat me.”

Lady Vixen scoffed. “Here’s the thing, Lila: You never have the goods to back up your words.”

Pied Piper smirked. “We’ll see.” She raised her flute and blew a haunting melody. “Surrender to me, Ladybug. Give me your Miraculous.”

Lady Vixen held her breath as the magic washed over her, breathing a sigh of relief when her free will remained.

Let’s see if we can use her arrogance against her.

Prodding Kitsune mentally, Lady Vixen stepped forward, head bowed in defeat. “Yes, Pied Piper.”

As Pied Piper reached for the ladybug Miraculous, practically salivating, Kitsune hit her in the back of the head.

“Thwack!”

The akuma fell to the ground, out cold.

A good superhero doesn’t take pleasure in violence. A good superhero doesn’t take pleasure in violence. A good superhero doesn’t take pleasure in violence.

The internal mantra did little to quelch the satisfied grin pulling at the corner of Lady Vixen’s lips.

As Pied Piper’s minions slowly regained their agency, Lady Vixen crouched next to the akuma, searching for the akumatized object. “Great work, Kitsune.”

She grabbed the flute and jerked away as Pied Piper’s eyes opened. “Ladybug?”

That’s the voice from earlier – that berated Lila! But why is it so familiar?

She shoved her curiousity aside and raised the flute to break it. Questions could wait until after the akuma was finished.

“Wait!”

Abruptly, Lady Vixen recognized the voice.

Alya.

“Lila’s working willingly with Hawkmoth!”

Lady Vixen narrowed her eyes at her ex-best friend. “I already knew that.”

She snapped the flute and watched as Pied Piper separated into Alya and Lila. Purifying the akuma, she realized she didn’t have a Lucky Charm – except perhaps Kitsune.

So is Kitsune my Lucky Charm? Do I have to toss her – er, myself – into the air?

Alya climbed to unsteady feet and stepped several meters away from Lila. “Ladybug, I really need to talk to you,” she whispered. “I have a lead on Hawkmoth.”

Sure you do. You just want to yell at me about replacing you.

Lady Vixen shot her a falsely apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’ve really got to go. Bug out!”

She raced for the rooftops and called for her Miracle Cure, relaxing slightly when Kitsune merged with her and the Cure spread across Paris. She made it back to her balcony just before her transformation ran out and caught two exhausted kwamis in the palm of her hands.

Chapter Text

Warning: This chapter contains betrayal, canon typical violence, and apparent character death. If you'd rather not read this chapter, there will be a non-graphic summary in the comment section.

Back in Marinette’s room, Trixx growled at her as he and Tikki flew to the emergency stash of macarons. “You owe me so many berry-flavored macarons. Do you have any idea how exhausting that was?”

“But you helped come up with the plan!” Marinette protested. Her curiousity getting the better of her despite her resolution not to interrupt the kwamis while eating, she asked, “Did you know that Lucky Mirage would create Kitsune? How did it do that? I wasn’t even planning on having an illusion of her and then there she was completely solid! Was she me? She felt kind of like my clones as Multimouse, but then she also reminded me of how it felt when I was holding Sentibug’s amok – except more laggy. She is still me right?” She gasped. “I didn’t destroy life, did I? Oh, croissants, did my Miracle Cure kill Kitsune?”

Tikki cut her off before she could spiral. “You didn’t kill Kitsune. You have her memories, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I do.”

“So she’s you then.”

“But why did she form in the first place?”

“Combining the Miraculi of creation and illusion – really combining them, not just transforming with both the fox and the ladybug – results in the illusions becoming real,” Tikki explained. “As such, it takes enormous amounts of magical energy and immense concentration. My guess is that you pulled more magic than you needed for making yourself Ladybug, so Kitsune was formed from the excess.”

Marinette bit her lip. “So I messed up then?”

Tikki looked up at her. “No, actually, I think it speaks to your strength as a wielder. Not only did you pull extra magic, you shaped it into something useful. Even if Kitsune was unplanned, it would’ve been a lot harder to win the fight without her, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” Marinette agreed, thinking of how Pied Piper had never even seen Kitsune coming. “But it wasn’t something I meant to do. Isn’t that bad?”

“Very few holders get Lucky Mirage right the first time around, kit,” Trixx said, nudging her cheek affectionately. “I was impressed with you.”

“Maybe I should spend some time practicing,” Marinette mused. “If I can get good at Lucky Mirage, it could help Chat and me fight Hawkmoth.”

She frowned as she thought of her partner’s absence.

“I hope he’s okay.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Tikki reassured her.

“You’re probably right,” Marinette said, shooting Tikki a sheepish grin. “But I can’t help worrying.”

Pushing thoughts of her partner from her mind, Marinette made her way downstairs, updating her Hawkmoth map then settling in to work on a jacket for Penny Rolling.

When evening arrived, she took a break to eat with her parents, who were pleased with the resolution to the conflict with Lila.

“I still think you should transfer out of Francoise Dupont.” Sabine twirled a noodle around her fork. “Despite its reputation, that school is terrible.”

Marinette sighed. “I need to be at Francoise Dupont because of all the akuma attacks. Nearly – what was it, Papa? 80%? – yeah, nearly 80% of akuma attacks happen within a ten mile radius of the school. Believe me, if that weren’t the case, I’d be out of there quicker than you can blink.”

Sabine frowned. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your mental health to be Ladybug.”

“Could we have her transfer classes?” Tom pointed his knife at Marinette. “That way, she’d be able to be in Francoise Dupont, but separate from that awful teacher and her current classmates.”

“That might just work.”

After dinner, Marinette found herself on the couch, battling her father in their favorite video game, Ultimate Mecha Strike 3.

“Take that!”

“Oh, you’re going down now!”

Sabine stuck her head in the door. “Marinette, Adrien is here to see you.”

Marinette blanched. “O-okay.”

Sabine took in the look on her daughter’s face and frowned. “Should I tell him you’re busy? Or asleep?”

“No,” Marinette sighed. “I need to talk with him. It’ll only get harder the longer I wait.”

Come on, Marinette, you can do this.

Even the mention of Adrien brought up a confusing cocktail of feelings – anger and affection battled in the pit of her stomach, delight at his presence warred with disgust with his actions. As she descended into the bakery, the glimmer of blond hair in the low light made her gut twist.

“Adrien. Hi.”

“Hey, Marinette.” Adrien shot her a nervous grin. “I thought we should talk about what happened this morning.”

“Yeah, we probably should.”

Silence filled the bakery as they both waited for the other to start.

Marinette shifted, her dread making it hard to stand still.

Just rip off the band-aid.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Mari, I’m so – ”

“I think we should take a break.” Just saying it out loud made tears prick at the corner of her eyes, especially as she saw the panicked look on Adrien’s face.

“What? No!” Adrien took a desperate step towards her. “Please, Mari. I know I messed up by not supporting you with Lila, but I’ll do better, I swear.”

“It’s not just about Lila, Adrien.” Her voice hitched on his name, but she forged on. “It’s every single time that you expect me to be the ‘better person.’ Every time you expect me to improve, even though the other person is in the wrong.”

“You’re the best person I know, Marinette!” Adrien protested. “You don’t need to improve, you just need to keep being yourself!”

“Keep being myself and listen whenever you tell me to ignore injustice, you mean?” The tears slipped down her cheeks and she wiped them away furiously. “Ignore when people are hurting me? Hurting my friends? I can’t do that, Adrien!”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Marinette sniffled and smiled hollowly. “You know, I used to think you were incredibly forgiving. Now, I have to wonder if you just hate conflict so much that you’re willing to overlook anything.”

“I – wha – No! I just – ” Adrien’s mouth worked uselessly.

Marinette turned away. “I think you should leave, Adrien.”

“But My Lady, I love you!”

Marinette froze, then slowly turned back to face him.

“Chat Noir?”

Adrien winced. “Surprise?”

Adrien is Chat Noir.

A thousand contradictory memories flashed through Marinette’s mind before anger overpowered every other feeling. With laserpoint focus, she shoved down the blue energy that wanted to surface and stalked towards him.

“How long have you known?”

Adrien took an unconcious step backwards. “It was an accident!”

“How long?”

He looked away. “Seven months.”

Marinette breathed in sharply. “You never stopped pursuing Ladybug at all, did you? I told you how much stress I was under, as the Guardian and in my civilian life and your response was to pursue me as a civilian! Did you ever even care about me?”

“Of course, I di–”

“Don’t lie to me!” She choked on a sob. “You never even looked twice at me until you knew I was Ladybug! Did you get a kick out of toying with me? Ganache, Adrien, I thought you cared about me!”

“I did! I do!”

“And today’s akuma attack! I was actually worried about you and you what? Decided not to show up because you were annoyed with me about Lila? She nearly got my Miraculous!”

“I got caught under the akuma’s spell!”

“I can’t believe you.” Marinette shook her head in disgust. “Get out. Don’t text me, don’t call me, don’t come see me. I don’t want to see you outside of an akuma attack anytime in the near future.”

“But My Lady – ”

“Now, Adrien!”

In a haze of anger and pain, Marinette slammed the doors behind him, locking out Adrien and the rest of the world. Then she slumped to the floor, leaning her head against the door as she tried and failed to stop the river of tears.

Tikki slipped out of Marinette’s pocket and nuzzled into her neck, providing comfort in the only way she could.

Her father was the first one to find them. Tom took one look at her tear-stained face and gathered her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”

Marinette buried her face in his neck, her sobs beginning anew.

Humming soothingly, Tom discreetly motioned for Tikki to dispose of the akuma that was lurking at the corner of the room. Rubbing comforting circles on her back, he carried her upstairs.

They wound up in the living room, the kwamis curling around Marinette as her mother joined the cuddle pile on the sofa.

Sabine waited until her tears had eased. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I – no.” Grimacing, Marinette shook her head. “Maybe in the morning. When it isn’t so raw.”

 “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Marinette smiled weakly. “Distract me so I don’t attract an akuma?”

Tom grinned, reaching for a cushion. “Oh, I see. You want a challenge then.”

“I don’t like that look.” She eyed her father warily.

“Pillow Fight!” Sabine bellowed, smacking Marinette in the back with a pillow.

“Every man, woman, and kwami for themselves!” Tom yelled, aiming for his wife.

With a startled shriek, Marinette leapt over the back of the sofa, scrambling to grab a pillow before her parents could stockpile all of them. The kwamis, who had weaponized the tiny bean bags they used as beds, spread across the room, indiscriminately attacking whoever crossed their path.

Marinette snuck around the room, grabbing discarded pillows and bean bags before making her stand on the couch. “You’re going down!” she proclaimed, her competitive nature asserting itself. “No one defeats Ladybug in a pillow fight!”

A bean bag hit her in the chin and Marinette turned to see Tikki smirking at her. “Ah, but you’re not Ladybug right now, are you?”

Marinette’s eyes glowed blue and she grinned ferally. “Oh, it’s on.”

Within moments, the free-for-all turned into a civil war. Team Marinette held the sofa and the majority of the pillows, but Team Tikki had the numbers advantage, since few wanted to fight the kwami of creation.

Nine minutes, two failed plans, and a tentative truce with Trixx later, Team Marinette turned the tide of the battle as they captured Tikki.

“We have your leader,” Marinette announced.

Trixx grinned. “Surrender now, or face our fluffy wrath!”

“Never!” Tikki cried. “Team Tikki will be victorious! Lucky Charm!”

Everyone in the room dove for cover as dozens of red and black spotted pillows materialized over their heads. Tikki cackled as she buried her victims in mountains of comfy, colorful fluff.

“I emerge triumphant!”

Struggling not to laugh, Marinette flew out from under the pile of pillows and bopped Tikki on the head. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Tikki giggled, nuzzling Marinette’s cheek. “I don’t think you have much to worry about there.”

Tom shoved the pillows covering him and Sabine to the side. “Hey, we never finished our Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 game!”

“Ooh, I want to play!” Ziggy exclaimed. The other kwamis joined in enthusiastically and soon Marinette found herself defending her title as reigning champ against everyone from her mother to Barkk. It was nearly one o’clock before she fell asleep, lying haphazardly across the pillows and blankets, video game controller still hanging from her hand.

“Why. Are. You. So. Hard. To. Wake. Up.” Kaalki punctuated each word by whacking Marinette with a pillow.

“Five more minutes,” the young superheroine mumbled.

The horse kwami groaned. “Marinette.”

Tikki glanced up sleepily. “It’s three in the morning, Kaalki. What’s wrong that can’t wait till morning?”

“Chat Noir is here!”

Both Marinette and Tikki shot up in alarm. “What?”

Kaalki smirked. “Excited to see your paramour?”

“That’s not it at all. Where is he?”

“In your studio.”

Evil éclairs, the Miracle Box!

Tikki glanced at Marinette. “You don’t think – ”

Marinette winced. “I really hope not. But we can’t take any chances. Tikki, Spots On!”

She turned back to Kaalki. “Go wake up my parents. Tell them to transform and meet me in the studio.”

Kaalki blinked in confusion. “But your parents aren’t Miraculous holders.”

“They are now,” Ladybug replied grimly. She opened her yo-yo and pulled out the turtle and dragon Miraculi, then passed them to Kaalki. “I’m counting on you, Kaalki.”

The horse kwami nodded sharply. “I won’t let you down, Guardian.”

As Kaalki flew off, Ladybug ran to her studio, throwing open the door.

“Stop!”

Chat Noir looked up at her in surprise, cradling the Miracle Box in his arms. Ladybug sucked in a horrified breath.

Her voice trembled. “How could you, Chat?”

“My Lady, it’s not what you think! I just want to fix everything!”

“How exactly? By stealing the Miracle Box?”

“No! I would never!” Chat Noir exclaimed. “I just came to borrow the rabbit.”

Ladybug crossed her arms to hide her aching heart. “Messing with the time-stream is dangerous, Chat. And who’s to say that anything needs fixing in the first place?”

“We’re not meant to be like this,” Chat pleaded, gesturing to the distance between them. “You know that.”

It does feel wrong to be at odds with him. Still...

“This isn’t right. We’re not supposed to use our powers for personal gain. And if the rabbit was needed, Bunnyx would be here.”

“Please, My Lady.” Haunted green eyes met hers as he begged, “I can fix this. I’ll go back and stop myself from finding your identity and help you with Lila. Just let me borrow the rabbit Miraculous.”

“You can’t just use magic to undo your mistakes, Adrien!” Ladybug argued.

“But if I go back in time, my mistakes will never happen!” Chat reached into the Miracle Box.

I need to stop him, so why won’t my feet move?

A red-clad woman and a man in green appeared in the doorway. “Ladybug? What’s wrong?”

“Turtle, Dragon,” Ladybug pasted a confident smile on her face, “glad you could join us.”

Turtle frowned. “We can change our names later, right?”

Chat growled, activating his Cataclysm. “I don’t know who you are, but come any closer and I’ll disintegrate the entire Box.”

Turtle took a step forward.

“You can’t win this fight, son,” he said gently. “Please don’t do this.”

Chat Noir hissed.

Is this when Bunnyx’s Miraculous breaks?

Ladybug exchanged a look with her mother.

Smilingly slightly, Dragon grabbed her husband’s hand. “Wind Dragon!”

Ladybug watched in awe as both heroes dissolved into the wind.

Why didn’t I ever think of that?

“I’m warning you, stay back,” Chat’s voice was tinged with panic. He thrust his hand out in the direction of the wind and Ladybug screamed in horror as his Cataclysm connected with something in the wind.

The turtle and dragon Miraculi fell to the ground, sparkling with black electricity. Neither of the heroes reappeared.

Chat’s face paled. “What did I just do?”

“No, no, no!” Ladybug dropped to her knees, pulling the Miraculi and the Miracle Box to her. “Maman? Papa? Wayzz? Longg?”

“Your parents?” Chat’s voice was thick with horror. “Oh, kwami, what’ve I done?”

Tears streamed down Ladybug’s cheeks. “No, no, this can’t be! Lucky Charm!”

She barely glanced at the tiny figurine of the Statue of Liberty before calling for her Miracle Cure. Tiny ladybugs swirled around the room, setting chairs and tables to rights, but the Miraculi of Teleportation and Perfection stayed lifeless and inactive.

Ladybug howled, a shriek of pure anguish escaping her lips.

“It’s going to be okay.” Chat Noir attempted to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away.

“Don’t touch me!”

“My Lady – ”

“They’re gone,” she whispered. “They’re really gone.”

“They don’t have to be,” Chat said.

“What – ”

“Just let me go back in time and none of this will ever happen.”

“If you think I’ll ever let you near another kwami,” Marinette snarled, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I can fix this!” Chat Noir leapt towards the Miracle Box.

Ladybug scrambled backwards with the Box, broken Miraculi clenched tightly in her fist. “No, Adrien, you can’t!”

I can’t fight him while carrying the Miracle Box and the broken Miraculi! But if I get outside, I can fly away and regroup.

Tears stung her eyes as she kicked a chair at Chat and dove out the window. She had just enough time to register that something was wrong before she slammed into the pavement.

What in the name of flaky croissants?!

Struggling to her feet, she jumped into the air but only hung for a second before her feet hit cement again.

I can’t fly?

She leapt again and again, but nothing changed. Her flight was gone. Chat Noir landed on the street behind her, sparking panic.

This entire thing feels unreal. How can I be so afraid of Adrien, of Chat Noir, my partner?

Like reopening a wound, she remembered the crackling sound of broken Miraculi falling to the ground, the pain of realizing her Miracle Cure couldn’t save her parents. It took Herculean effort not to throw up.

She shoved the two broken Miraculi into her yo-yo and raced off into the city. Between the tears blurring her vision and the visceral pain of losing her parents, she was anything but coordinated. Chat Noir was gaining ground on her quickly.

The beeping of her Miraculous reminded her that she was on a time limit and that Adrien would be able to find her easily as a civilian.

Think, Marinette! You need a plan!

Her gaze landed on the Eiffel Tower and she suddenly remembered her last Lucky Charm - the Statue of Liberty figurine.

Penny and Jagged! They’ve probably made it to New York by now and they’ll let me stay with them until I can figure out what to do.

Dropping to the ground, she made several confusing twists and turns, hoping to throw Chat Noir off her trail. Then, she slipped on the horse Miraculous and transformed into Pegasus.

New York. Just get to New York. You can do it.

“Voyage!”

“My Lady, no!”

She leapt through the hole and had just enough time to register that she was not in New York. Then she was falling.

Chapter Text

Nightwing grinned as he soared above the streets of Gotham.

It’s good to be back.

He whooped with joy and dived off a building, rotating twice before catching himself with his grapple gun. Landing on the roof of Wayne Tower, he felt eyes on his back and turned around.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

His wife landed next to him, rolling her eyes. “I’m spotting you – which you agreed to, by the way. That’s hardly babysitting.”

“Not you, Flamebird. I’m referring to our shadow here.”

Robin melted out of the darkness, scowling. “I’m investigating a disturbance downtown. I have better things to do than babysit.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Red Robin tonight?”

Robin’s scowl deepened. “Red Robin is an imbecile who will likely die of a caffeine overdose.”

“Apparently, Red Robin nearly fell off a building because he was so exhausted,” Flamebird reported. “Robin ordered him back to the Batcave.”

“And he listened to you?” Nightwing’s eyebrows rose. “I’m impressed.”

A year ago, Tim would’ve stayed on patrol just to spite him. And a couple years before that, Damian likely would’ve pushed him off the building.

Robin straightened slightly, the only sign that he was pleased at the compliment. “Red Robin is hardly an intimidating opponent.”

Nightwing fought a grin.

“Would you like to join us for movie night, Robin?” Flamebird asked. “Nightwing and I are turning in early, since it’s his first night back.”

The teenage vigilante clicked his tongue. “I told you, I’m on my way to investigate a disturbance downtown.” With an annoyed flutter of his cape, he slid back into the darkness.

“Make sure you check in with Oracle regularly if you don’t have a partner!” Nightwing called after him. He could almost hear Robin’s eye roll in response.

Flamebird leaned against him, smiling fondly. “He’s a good kid.”

Nightwing hummed in agreement. “He’s come a long way from the little brat he used to be.”

Straightening, he pulled away. “Alright, enough nostalgia. Why don’t we check out that warehouse B mentioned and then call it a night?”

“Yeah, that sounds...” She trailed off.

“Flamebird?”

“Something’s coming,” she said, stiffening. “Something with an incredible amount of energy.”

Nightwing reached for his comms. “I’ll call for back up.” Just then, a swirling blue vortex opened far above them. Nightwing cursed. “Whatever it is shorted out my comms.”

Flamebird glanced at him. “Be ready for anything. I’ve never felt energy like this before.”

He nodded sharply in response.

A feminine scream broke the air and a winged girl in red and black fell from the sky. Her wings flapped uselessly – once, twice – before the girl tucked them close to her body, giving up on trying to fly.

“Even a Tamaranean couldn’t survive a fall from that height,” Flamebird said. Her muscles tensed.

“Wait – ”

Flamebird shot into the sky, Nightwing watching anxiously as she headed straight for the unknown girl.

“Got you!” Flamebird grabbed the girl under the arms, arresting her descent. Unfortunately, the girl didn’t seem to appreciate her rescuer, thrashing wildly as she held a wooden box close to her chest.

“Let me go!”

“I’m trying to help!” Flamebird dropped several feet as she nearly lost her grip on the girl. “Just stay still!”

“Don’t touch me!” With a harsh yank, the girl freed one limb from Flamebird’s control. As Flamebird tried to grab her more securely, the box slipped from the girl’s arms and she let out a panicked shriek.

That box is important to her.

The thought had barely occurred to him before Nightwing was in motion, swinging towards the box as it fell.

Almost –

The girl was suddenly in front of him, pulling the box to her with one arm. Nightwing had just enough time to wonder where in her skintight costume she kept her grappling hook and then they collided, the impact sending both of them to the ground ten feet below.

Nightwing landed with an energy-absorbing roll and was shocked to notice the girl mirroring him.

Has she trained in aerobatics? But they haven’t taught people to land like that since safety nets became common.

He frowned.

Is she older than she looks?

With a glance up, the girl threw her weapon – is that a yo-yo? – skyward and Nightwing received yet another shock when it caught on absolutely nothing, pulling the girl into the air.

Well, that defied the laws of physics.

“Nightwing!” Flamebird’s voice pulled him out of his stupor and he leapt just in time to catch a ride with his airborne partner. She didn’t even slow, years of working together allowing her to catch him seamlessly as they chased after the yo-yo wielding girl.

“There she is,” Nightwing muttered, the girl appearing just above a building before she disappeared once more. Flamebird sped up.

She’d just come into view once more when her yo-yo and wings disappeared in a flash of light, her outfit shifting from red and black to all black. With a startled yelp, the girl fell to the roof below her, landing with that too-familiar roll yet again.

Mere seconds later, she was running, her too long leaps and bounds revealing that the costume change had by no means left her merely human.

“Is she a magic user? Maybe we should call Zatanna.”

Nightwing frowned. “And tell her what? We need more information. It could be advanced tech. Let’s follow her and try to talk to her, see what she’s doing in Gotham.”

“She’s headed towards Wayne Tower,” Flamebird noted. “We should be able to corner her there.”

“I’ll take the rooftops and you take air,” Nightwing said. “That way, we can’t lose her.”

Flamebird gave him a measuring look, then nodded. “Be careful. Don’t get hurt.”

“You as well.” He pressed a kiss against his wife’s cheek, then somersaulted out of her arms, landing easily on the roofs and running after the unknown girl.

She’s quick.

Whether it was magic, technology, or supernatural ability, the girl was far faster than any normal human and Nightwing was hard pressed to keep up, despite his knowledge of shortcuts and secret alleyways.

Abruptly, the girl slowed, fumbling with the wooden box again, and Nightwing breathed a sigh of relief as he gained ground on her.

He heard a shout and then light flashed across the girl. When the light dissipated, the girl’s outfit had orange accents, a baton strapped to her back. Nightwing frowned.

What’s with the constant costume changes?

After the shift to the new look, the girl sped back up again, and Nightwing redoubled his efforts to keep up, feeling thankful when Wayne Tower appeared out of the Gotham gloom.

Flamebird hovered in front of the girl, forcing her to skid to a stop. “Hey, can we chat for a minute?”

The girl reached for her baton defensively. “I don’t make a habit of chatting with those that hijack my portals and try to steal the Miraculi.”

She looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Nightwing rethought his previous plan to block the girl from behind and swung around to land beside Flamebird instead.

“Woah, I think there’s been a miscommunication. I’m Nightwing and this is Flamebird. We protect Gotham along with a few other people,” he said, raising his hands to show his lack of weapons. “We just want to know who you are and why you’re here.”

For the first time, he noticed the tear tracks down her cheeks. At his sudden intake of breath, her long orange fox ears pricked towards him.

Those are real? Just who – or what – is this girl?

“Don’t act like you don’t know who I am,” she snarled, oblivious to Nightwing’s confusion. “I don’t know how you hijacked my portal, but I’ll find out, believe me. And if you think I’ll just quietly give you the Miraculi, you’ve got another thing coming.”

She looked so small, defiant eyes filled with tears.

“What are the Miraculi?” Nightwing frowned. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Where’s your mentor, kid?”

Her entire frame seemed to crumple as her ears flattened and a sob escaped her throat before she could stop it.

“That’s none,” a hiccuping sob, “of your business. Let me go, or I’ll make you.”

Flamebird turned to him and Nightwing saw the woman that had compassion for every hurt and brokenhearted kid she came across.

“Nightwing.”

“I know, I agree.” He took a deep breath, hoping that Flamebird could convince this wary girl to accept the help she obviously needed. “Where are you going to go, kiddo?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Can you at least tell me you’re going to someone who loves you and knows about your role as a protector of these ‘Miraculi’ you keep mentioning?”

The girl looked away.

“That’s a no.”

“The last people I told got killed within a month and a half of me telling them!” The girl snapped, shoving her hair out of her face as the wind suddenly picked up. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, honey,” Flamebird said compassionately. She floated towards the girl, who flinched away.

“What am I supposed to do?” the girl repeated, though this time it was closer to a sob. “My flight won’t work, my portals are broken, my partner betrayed me and killed my parents, where am I even supposed to go?”

The wind grew stronger and a blinding light washed over the girl before her black outfit with orange accents became orange with black and white accents. Nightwing narrowed his eyes at the creature that materialized beside her.

“What’s that?”

The creature – which seemed vaguely horse-themed – opened its mouth, struggling against the wind to remain in place, but the girl slipped off her glasses and it vanished.

“None of your business,” she snapped, slipping the glasses into her box.

Nightwing let it go.

“Why don’t you spend the night here?” Flamebird suggested. “It’s obvious that even you didn’t expect to wind up here, so whoever you’re running from won’t find you here. We’ve got a spare bedroom at one of our safe houses.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at them. “Nice try, but I’m not that foolish.”

“I swear to you,” Flamebird said, “we don’t want to hurt you or steal from you. We had nothing to do with your portal bringing you here. We simply want to offer you assistance in your time of need.”

“Why? Why go out of your way to help a complete stranger?” the girl asked. “I could be a criminal for all you know!”

Flamebird sighed, feet touching down on the rooftop. “It’s been nearly fifteen years since I lost my daughter, but I still think of her each and every day.” She looked up at the girl with misty eyes. “She would’ve been about your age now. If she was alive and in need, I would want someone to help her.”

Nightwing looked away.

Mariand’r. Why did we have to lose you?

Coughing to rid himself of the sudden catch in his throat, Nightwing looked back at the girl in orange.

She was studying them carefully and – for a moment – Nightwing swore that her bright blue eyes held the knowledge of millenia within them. Then, the moment passed and she nodded, stowing her baton on her back.

What was that?

“One night.” She paused. “And I thank you.”

Flamebird smiled in relief and led the way. “You’re welcome.” She turned to look at Nightwing, who was already a few steps behind. “Are you coming, Nightwing?”

He shook himself out of his stupor, feeling thankful that the wind had calmed somewhat as he readied his grappling hook. “Right behind you.”

“You said you protect Gotham, right?” the girl asked. “What is that – a city, a country?”

She doesn’t know Gotham?

“It’s a city in New Jersey,” Nightwing volunteered.

“New Jersey?”

At the girl’s blank look, Flamebird chimed in. “New Jersey is one of the fifty United States of America, on planet Earth.”

“Oh!” The girl’s expression cleared. Then she coughed. “I mean, of course. I knew that.”

Flamebird and Nightwing exchanged a look.

Did she?

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Nightwing asked.

“I’m La – ” Abruptly, the girl cut herself off, frowning. She glanced down at her costume. “Call me Vixen.”

“Nice to meet you, Vixen,” Flamebird said with a smile. “Although I certainly wish it was under better circumstances.”

The girl – Vixen – sighed, rubbing at the wetness on her cheeks. “Me too. I keep hoping to wake up and find out the last twenty-four hours have been a nightmare.”

“What can you tell us about the people hunting you? We’d like to be prepared, should they somehow find you.”

Vixen stopped short, reaching for her baton.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” she said grimly. With a flick of her fingers, a hologram appeared above her baton.

Nightwing whistled in appreciation. “And I thought Red Robin’s baton was tricked out.”

“It’s a flute, actually,” Vixen corrected. “It’s simply strong enough to double as a baton when necessary.”

What’s with this girl’s weapons? First a yo-yo, now a flute?

“Luckily,” Vixen said, breaking his train of thought, “it doesn’t look like anyone’s had time to track me and I’ve just turned off that particular feature of my suit. So we should be alright for the time being – assuming no one got video of my portal in.”

“The energy knocked out our comms,” Flamebird said. “I think it would’ve done the same for any cameras.”

“Good, that saves us a lot of trouble.”

She’s a lot calmer now that she’s focusing on practical matters.

“What about your portal?” Nightwing asked warily. “You said it was hijacked. Doesn’t that mean someone was able to track you?”

“It’s highly improbable.” Vixen flushed, looking away in embarassment. “It’s actually far more likely that the change in destination was due to my own emotional state and lack of concentration. These portals are... sensitive.”

Flamebird accepted it with a nod. “Then it’s safe to say no one knows where you are?”

Vixen bit her lip. “Probably, yeah.”

“What about family? Allies? Anyone you should give a call?”

Vixen stumbled, her face awash with horror. “Oh, stars,” she whispered. “They’re gone. They’re really gone. He killed them.”

Nightwing looked to Flamebird, concerned at the sudden change.

“I think she’s been in shock this whole time,” Flamebird whispered. She stepped in front of the orange-clad girl, bending down to her level. “Vixen. Come on, darling. Stay with me. Stay in the here and now.”

Her lips trembled. “Right. Okay.” She took a shuddering breath inward. “I don’t have anyone to contact. At least not right now. Let’s just focus on getting to that safe house.”

“Right, of course,” Flamebird said.

She glanced back at Nightwing and he could practically read her thoughts on her face.

A girl this young, with no one to contact for help?

They continued on their way, both Nightwing and Flamebird pretending not to notice the stifled sobs that occasionally came from their young companion.

When they arrived at the safe house, Flamebird showed her to the spare room.

“Do you want any company?”

Vixen shook her head. “Not right now.”

Nightwing handed her a ski mask. “In case you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but aren’t ready to share your identity. Rest assured, neither Flamebird nor I will enter this room unless you give us your permission.”

“Thanks,” Vixen replied shakily.

“Try to get some sleep,” Flamebird suggested with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll figure out a game plan in the morning.”

They stepped out of the room and Nightwing closed the door. “So who’s taking first watch?”

At Flamebird’s raised eyebrow, he gave an annoyed sigh. “Don’t give me that look. I just want to be certain that one of us is available if she needs us.”

“And you’re scared that she’ll leave without a word and we’ll never get to mete out justice on the people that have hurt her,” Flamebird finished.

“That too,” he admitted.

“I love you, you know that?” She pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Get some rest, Nightwing. I’ll take first watch.”

Nodding gratefully, Nightwing stumbled down the hall to their bedroom. However, sleep was elusive – Vixen’s muted sobs carried through the thin walls of the apartment.

He sat up in bed, leaning his head against the wall between the two rooms.

If only there was some way I could comfort her.

Slowly, Vixen’s sobs petered out, but the girl herself stayed on his mind.

There’s still so much we don’t know about her – who and what she is, who’s after her, what she’s trying to protect, what that tiny creature was. And yet I trust her character. Why?

He fell asleep without an answer to his question and dreamed of the daughter he hadn’t seen in fourteen years.