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“Come on, Chat,” Ladybug hummed as she swung her legs over the rooftop. The violet sky bridged the distance between day and night, the dying light of the sun casting soft shadows in her vision.
Chat had missed the last 3 patrols, all within the week. While it wasn’t necessarily strange for him to miss patrolling if he had something going on in his civilian life, he never completely disappeared unless informing Ladybug first.
The discovery of Hawkmoths identity was hard on all of them, but the effect on Chat was inexplicably disastrous.
*.*.*.*
“Gabriel Agreste,” Ladybug introduced, closing off the only feasible exit in the room. “Pleasure to meet you in person,” she continued, staring the designer in the eye. He almost comically gulped, but his eyes remained steely despite his obvious distress.
“Ladybug, I have no idea what you are accusing me of-“
“Hawkmoth. Terrorism. I believe you know exactly what I am talking about, Gabriel.” The hero kept her eyes on the nationally acclaimed designer, examining the stiffness of his posture.
“I suppose you’ve informed the media, had my brand ruined?”
“Believe me,” she replied coldly, seemingly staring into his soul, “while I would like nothing more than to drag your name through the gutter, I’m not void of empathy. You have a son, who I’m guessing was unaware of this. He doesn’t have to suffer for your mistakes.”
The mention of Adrien felt spiteful, but necessary in her speech. Desperately trying to feign maturity, she had rehearsed this. Her voice didn’t shake. She sounded sure of herself.
“Hand over the butterfly miraculous, and you’ll be escorted into police custody,” she ordered, ignoring the anxious weight in her chest.
“While I would love to, I do not have the miraculous,” he retorted, cold and unfeeling.
Marinette took a second to steady herself. He didn’t have the miraculous? She was certain Gabriel was Hawkmoth; he had practically admitted to it himself a few moments before.
But he didn’t have the miraculous.
In short, they were screwed.
“I knew you were starting to get suspicious of me,” the blond man started before being cut off by Chats staff extending to puncture the dry wall, dangerously close to his head.
This was her fault. She… she should have told him more than just “meet me at the Agreste Mansion.” Then, Chat wouldn’t be freaking out and trying to concus Hawkmoth.
“Who has the miraculous?” he forced out, and Marinette noticed the tremble in his hands, the shininess of his eyes, the tension of his jaw.
“Why would I rat them out? My legacy lives on in them-“
“Your legacy should’ve been left to your son!” Chat yelled, startling his partner. His fists were clenched, small particles of midnight black leaking from his fingertips.
His cataclysm had never done that before.
Gabriel Agreste was arrested on Thursday, the 23rd of September, privately, without the knowledge of the media.
“Yes, of course, Officer, Natalie Sancoeur was unemployed, I have no reason to- Wait! Chat!” she yelled, pushing her way through the crowd of officials, chasing after the leather clad hero.
“I’m sorry, bug, I just need a minute!” he yelled, not turning to look her in the face. His voice was thick, but she couldn’t tell from what cause, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
She caught up with him, latching onto his wrist. Tears welled in her eyes, but she chalked them up to simply being overwhelmed, “I’m here, kitty, please-”
“I’ll see you soon, m’lady.”
His hand left hers.
She watched him walk away.
Hawkmoth was no more.
*.*.*.*
She pulled the small yo-yo off of her hip, flipping it open to reveal the keypad. Muscle memory supplied the familiar number, 3 familiar rings echoing out before the sound of his voice filled her ears.
“Hey! This is Chat Noir. Sorry, but I’m not transformed right now, please leave a message after the beep ,”
“Hey, kitty,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, “I hope you’re okay, you haven’t shown up for patrols and I just want to know that you’re fine. I miss you,” she continued, ignoring the crack in her voice.
She sat on the ledge until dawn.
“Girl, are you good?”
“Yeah,” Marinette replied, stifling a yawn as she sat down at her desk, folding her arms into a makeshift pillow.
“At least you woke up early for once,” Alya teased, poking at her pigtails and tucking in some loose hairs.
Marinette turned her head to the side to face the blogger, her eyes still closed. “You have to go to sleep to wake up early,” she muttered with a sigh.
“Mari-“ Alya started, her eyes and tone lifting with concern, “everything okay?”
“Yep! Just… got distracted with an outfit,” she lied with a sleepy smile.
“Hey dudes!” Nino called as he entered the classroom, slinging his bag onto his chair as he came to Alyas desk. “Adrien still at that modelling gig?”
Oh God.
Adrien.
Adrien had been off from school, claiming to be in Milan for fashion week prep.
Everyone believed it, bar Marinette.
But could she say so without revealing that she was Ladybug, so called “saviour” of Paris, who had failed to make sure that the one important person in her life was safe? Absolutely not.
While her thoughts were racing away from her, Ms. Bustier entered and started going on about essays or something that Marinette didn’t have the energy to pay attention to. She would pick up her pen, try to do something other than stare at the board and make the delicate skin around her fingernails bleed, but no matter what she tried to do, her mind couldn’t keep from wandering to the boy she had come to call her best friend.
Everything is fine. Chat’s totally okay! He just forgot to tell you, that’s all. He’ll be at the next patrol.
*.*.*.*
Chat wasn’t at the next patrol.
Or the one after that.
And then there was an akuma battle.
Chat’ll be here soon. He’ll be right beside you in a moment. No need to worry.
2 hours and no Chat later, Marinette was bleeding out from a wound in her leg, detransformed and terrified. “I have to find Alya,” she told Tikki, the small kwami quickly eating a macaron, “but I… I don’t think I can walk,” she whispered, more to herself than the small red God beside her.
“I don’t think it’ll be so painful if you transform,” Tikki supplied, whizzing over to examine the gash in her leg.
“You good to go?”
“Marinette, are you good to go is the real question here.”
“Of course I am, Tikki. Ladybug will save the day.”
Tikki chose not to point out that it sounded more like a question than a definitive statement.
Transformed, she leapt over the rooftops, keeping an eye out for the familiar blur of black to no avail.
She missed him.
It had been 3 weeks, and she missed him.
She missed his support, talking her out of spiralling and settling her restless fidgeting. His plans, even though they were more of a “if it works, it works,” rather than a methodical arrangement of tact and execution, were usually the one thing villains didn't expect (and why she was considered the brains, and he the sidekick, she would never understand, nor tolerate) and the catalyst in winning a battle unscathed. And even if it sounded freaking idiotic, she missed the nicknames she had told him off for time and time again.
Why did it feel so much heavier than him simply not showing up?
Focus, Marinette.
That voice in her head sounded way too much like Ladybug for her liking.
If Alyas and Ninos plans hadn’t changed, hopefully they would both be in Alyas apartment watching some movie or another. Ducking into the alleyway behind her home, she detransformed yet again, taking the time to examine the wound in her calf. Tikki has somehow (and how, she wasn’t sure she would ever really know) knitted the skin back together to create a scarred surface.
Hopefully the cure would help that.
Grabbing the miraculous of the fox and turtle, she soon found herself on the Césaire balcony.
“Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe…” she whispered between heavy breaths (Tikki had probably over exerted herself with that stupid healing), “Will you take the miraculous… the miraculous of the fox and turtle and use them for the greater good?” she said between agonsing breaths.
Far too tired to stick on the sophisticated, self assured mask that her alter ego was associated with, she guessed the looks she were getting from the two weren’t completely unjustified. It was a challenge to hold out in hour-long battles even with a partner, and now Chat hadn’t shown.
(Funny, isn’t it? How everything leads back to him.)
“Of course,” Alya hurried, pushing a bottle of water into her hand and removing the jewellery that lay within it moments before. “Nobody’s home, we can transform here,” she added before lifting her hair and clasping the chain. The kwamis greeted their holders, but they took no time in transforming, the orange and green glow illuminating them.
*.*.*.*
“I see it!”
As gruesome as the battle was, the burden was divided once the others had shown up. Nino spotted the akumatized object, and they all raced to break it. Before Marinette had even made a move, the fan they were using to tear holes in Marinette's leg erupted and contorted from feathers into ash butterflies.
“ Parisians!” came the booming voice from an ever changing flurry of black. “I am Violet Aphid, and unless your supposed saviours hand over their miraculous, I will make you yearn for Hawkmoths reign!”
So this was who had replaced Gabriel Agreste. The voice was distinctly feminine, a clue that could possibly help at some point. Voices, likely those of Carapace and Rena, were simply a buzz in the back of her mind.
“Ladybug, you need… purify… akuma!”
Right.
That thing.
“Miraculous Ladybug!”
And she stuck out her fist, a smile about to crawl onto her lips.
But all she was met with was a breeze.
————————————————————————
Marinette was not doing well.
The little hours she used to reserve for sleep were plagued with restless thoughts of what could have happened if she had just stayed a little stronger, been a little more stubborn in getting Chat to open up. If she had pushed a little further, seen what was actually wrong and not accepted that pathetic excuse, Chat would be beside her.
When the urge built until it felt unbearable, such as tonight, she would whisper to Tikki, and the vibrant, chirpy guide would become subdued and more comforting than normal (if that was possible.)
“I know you would like to, but you can’t, not again-” she uttered, trying desperately to push back the bedsheets her holder was climbing out of.
“I’m sorry, Tikki,” she whispered, ignoring the tears racing down her cheeks, “but I’ve gone this far. Maybe tonight will be different.”
Marinette knew that she said that every night.
The streets of Paris seemed duller, the chill of November air surrounding her.
If Chat were here, he would make some stupid pun, she thought as a smile appeared on her features.
But Chat wasn’t here.
“Hey, Chaton,” she muttered into the receiver. He hasn’t picked up throughout the two months he had been off the grid, but Marinette wouldn’t let the last flicker of her hope die out. “Patrol is pretty boring today, nothing much happening. I went by that bakery you like, and picked up some macarons.” It was a hopeless attempt to raise her own spirits, pushing the thoughts that there was no one else on the phone to the back of her mind. “Just… please, Kitty, tell me…” she whispered, refusing to let herself cry and harshly wiping away the tears. The screen blurred, the profile photo no longer decipherable, “...tell me what I did wrong, I swear, just please tell me you’re okay.”
*.*.*.*
Adrien Agreste sat in a hotel room in Lyon, listening to a voicemail, hands shaking and sobs muffled.
“...just, please, Kitty..”
He could practically see the tears on her face.
“...tell me what I did wrong…”
She thinks this mess is her fault?
“...tell me that you’re okay.”
Adrien Agreste sat in a hotel room in Lyon, listening to a voicemail, hands shaking and sobs muffled, listening to the sound of the person he loved most in the world break down because of him.
Adrien Agreste didn’t feel like he should have ever been offered a silver ring that made him a better person, but by what Ladybug was saying, he knew she didn't think that, and he despised himself for it.
*.*.*.*
Marinette was not doing well, and the people of Paris were starting to notice.
Akuma attack aftermath had suddenly become less of a relief, and more of an interrogation. Nadja Chamack was a common spectator, along with fellow reporters and a battalion of cameras analysing her every move.
“Ladybug!” the reporter cried out, hurriedly packing up a satchel and chasing the retreating hero, “Where is Chat Noir?”
You knew this day would come.
She knew someone would ask eventually. Someone would come along and scrutinise where her partner had disappeared to, but she didn’t expect it to be today.
“No questions, thank you!” she responded, making her way to the akuma victim. Her answer didn’t stop Nadja and whatever crew she had brought along from pushing past police lines and shoving a mic into her face.
“Where is Chat Noir? It’s the question on everyone’s mind, and here we have Ladybug to answer!” she beamed, keeping eye contact with the camera, oblivious to the panic building in Marinettes chest. There… there wasn’t a way out of this without revealing something.
She leaves without a word? Ladybug is labelled as rude and avoidant by those freaking gossip magazines.
She kindly explains that she wouldn’t like to answer any questions? TV talk shows will say that there is something deeper going on that Ladybug is avoiding.
She makes a scene and takes her anger out on the gaggle of reporters? She’s the talk of Paris for the minimum of a month.
“Chat Noir is just busy! He’ll be back patrolling Paris’ streets in no time.” A timid smile appeared in her face, lying through her teeth.
If Chat were here-
Chat wasn’t here.
Marinette had to realise that, even if it killed her.
*.*.*.*
Marinette wasn’t doing well, and her friends couldn’t understand why. While Marinette never was exactly punctual, her late morning entrances were followed by a string of apologies to Bustier and whoever she managed to trip over. Now, Alya was lucky to catch the mumbled “sorry” as the ravenette quietly made her way to her seat.
It wasn’t uncommon for her to text Alya early in the morning, asking for homework answers or study notes. She obliged - Mari had given her far too many answers in the past when she had become too caught up in a Ladyblog script - but it didn’t stop the gears in her head from turning, trying to find a why .
And when it was announced that Adrien had permanently moved to Lyon, they saw her eyes well with tears before she raised her gaze to the roof and blinked furiously. She went into a state of unending apathy, but her friends drew it up to only losing a friend. There seemed to be a shift. The carefree Marinette who helped whoever she could and didn’t expect anything in return just… ceased to exist. Her grades dropped. She refused to go out to get ice cream or see a movie, with the excuse of “relaxing” or “catching up on homework”, but the next day she was just as unprepared and tired as usual.
Lila Rossi, of all people, brought her out of it.
“I, personally, am glad that mangy cat is gone,” she remarked while polishing and buffing her nails. Addressing the room, she continued, “I mean, he seriously used to creep Ladybug out with that flirting.”
“How would you know?” Alix asked, an accusatory glint in her eye.
“Because I’m friends with Ladybug! And that Chat Noir did her team no favours-“
“ What did you just say?”
It was the first intense show of expression they had seen from Mari in months.
“I said-“
“No, I heard you, Lila,” she retorted, and the class could feel the anger radiating from her. “Chat Noir is vital to keeping Paris safe, and for you to suggest otherwise is just disrespectful! Ladybug would be dead without him. Do you see the amount of times he has died for her?” she ranted, staring Lila down with a venom Alya didn’t think she could possess. “Ladybug- She would be useless without him! They balance each other! A-And Chat will be back soon.”
“As if you could do any better, Rossi. You’re nothing compared to Chat Noir, and you will never be anything of value.”
She took a breather to blot away the tears on her flaming cheeks, “You are a disgusting excuse of a person, and I hope you rot in hell.”
She rose from the desk, packing up her bag and grabbing a couple of tissues from the box at the front of the room, making her way out the door. She couldn’t find herself to care about the lessons she would miss.
*.*.*.*
“I- I can't believe you!”
Transformed in some alley or another, pacing back and forth, Marinette was berating the phone, choosing not to dwell on the fact that he probably didn’t bother to listen to her messages anymore.
“You abandon Paris! A-And you don’t tell me anything and you know, Chat, you know how much I need you, and how- how much I love you.”
Okay.
Wow.
That- That wasn’t meant to slip out.
“It’s been six months, Chat! Six months, and you couldn’t even call? Tell me you’re okay? Tell me- tell me that you’re not, I don’t know, hurt? Angry? At something I did?” She was out of breath, her pigtails half falling out with the amount of times she had pulled at her hair.
“You owe me an explanation! Don’t I mean anything to you? Because- because you…you mean a lot to me.” Her voice quietened, yet her jaw kept rigid and her fists didn’t move from their curled position.
“I can't even be mad at you or Paris will fall to ruins! The only reason Rena and Carapace aren’t dealing with Catalyst 2.0 is because I’m the Guardian! Come back and yell at me and tell me what I did for you to abandon me without a goodbye, Chat. Maybe then I can tell you I miss you and you’ll believe me.”
Ladybug wasn’t vulnerable. She was reliable and strong and she didn’t show weakness because she was responsible for an entire city at age 16.
Marinette wasn’t doing well, but Ladybug was doing just fine, because she had no other choice.
————————————————————————
Violet Aphid wasn’t messing around.
Akuma attacks had increased in quantity and quality. Gabriel Agreste chose whoever was available, controlling the same person time and time again if the possibility arose. But Aphid? She bided her time and picked people with such intense anger that they didn’t hesitate to mutilate and maime civilians if it came to it.
And Marinette? Marinette was a wreck. There wasn’t any other word for it. She stopped showing up to school, choosing to sleep through the days instead. Her parents weren’t mad at first, probing into what could possibly change their daughter so drastically.
“Marinette, please, we’re here to help-“
“Nothing‘s wrong,” she would reply every time, not meeting either of them in the eye.
On one of the rare occasions she came into school (early, nevertheless), she was greeted with Lila Rossi talking about how she wouldn’t be surprised if “that silly little baker girl had been expelled.”
She didn’t feel offended.
Just… meh.
Apathy was a well known emotion to Marinette, and she didn’t see a way out of it.
“Ladybug!” Rena yelled, pulling her out of her pathetic reflection, “Akuma by the Sienne!”
Akumas weren’t something to break up the monotony of waiting for Chat to show up, or something of adrenaline or fear. Just another thing she had to deal with.
When she arrived, Rena and Carapace were already facing off against the villain, something about a pole vaulter who had been denied a win. And of freaking course, because the world loved Marinette so much, their weapon of choice was spears .
“Give me your Miraculous!”
“No, thanks,” she retorted, fighting back a yawn as she ducked under a stop sign that had been thrown her way.
I have got to sleep more.
At least she could buy herself some time these days. She couldn’t remember how she did it so well before Rena and Carapace had been given their Miraculous permanently-
Chat.
Chat was how she did it.
And there was that freaking stab in the heart again.
“The day is coming where your friends won’t be able to protect you, Ladybug.”
That- that was weird for an akumatized person to say. Seriously, she had heard some borderline dangerous threats in her time, but that was just another level-
Oh.
Maybe the neon purple butterfly mask on their face explained it.
“I am becoming stronger by the day, the hour, so just tire of this little game and give me your Miraculous.”
“I’m not sure if you heard me the first time,” she replied, flashing a smirk at the mask, “but I said, no, thanks.”
She used her yo-yo to intercept a spear that was heading for Rena. The string wrapped around it, giving her the opportunity to pull it against the legs of the villain, dressed in a black bodysuit with neon yellow accents.
Violet was being a lot more vocal in this fight, leaving the body vessel she had chosen to do the heavy lifting while she spoke of her own accord.
“I will be merciful if you surrender now!”
“I’ve heard that one before!” she tiredly retorted.
She didn't want to admit it, but she would do anything for a second to flip open the interface of the yo-yo and dial Chats number, just so it could feel like he was there and not however many miles away. For all she knew, he could be in some dark, close off corner of the Parisian streets, watching her. Looking out for her.
“Ladyb-”
Oh God.
“Shelter!”
The translucent glow of green was the only thing between her chest and a needle pointed piece of carved wood.
“Rena!” she called as Alya circled the shell, “copy me!”
“I’m on it!”
The yell of “Mirage” initiated their plan, a carbon copy of herself appearing in front of the vaulter, a shiny new toy for them to pierce.
“Lucky Charm!”
A grapple appeared in her hand, the curved edge drawing her eye to the ledge of a neighbouring building. Swinging up and over, with the opposition still impaling her clone (and she thanked whatever God was out there that Carapace had gotten to her in time, because that looked like a method of medieval execution) coming to break the charm bracelet with a silver pole pendant.
Going about the routine of cleansing and purifying the small ash butterfly, she threw up the hook and the ruby confetti-
The vibrant butterflies-
The vermillion bugs-
They-
They weren't there.
*.*.*.*
“Why isn’t it going back, Rena? I-It’s supposed to go back and it’s supposed to be normal -”
“Ladybug!-”
“-why isnt it working? Why? There’s something wrong with me , right?-”
“Ladyb-”
“I can’t do anything right anymore! I can’t-”
In short, Marinette was freaking the hell out.
In long, Ladybug's cure hadn’t worked, sending Paris into pandemonium and Marinette into a spiral.
“Ladybug.”
And now she was soaking wet.
“What the hell was that for?” she cried, pulling her fingers through the damp strands of her hair.
“You were rambling about being a mess,” Nino said, tossing aside the now empty bottle of water into the dumpster behind them, “and you were about to change back!”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, Oh, ” Alya interjected, pointing at the earrings. “Go feed your kwami and come back. We aren’t done talking.”
“You’re acting like my mother,” she dragged out, dusting off her back and hands that had been on the concrete bottom of the alley way.
“Tikki,” she muttered, cradling the kwami in her hands, passing a cookie from her purse, “are you sick? You’re okay, right? Ti-”
“Marinette!” she hissed, “I’m perfectly healthy! But… the balance is off. I can tell-”
“The balance?”
“I am good luck,” she explained, pointing at her chest, “Plagg is bad luck. I am creation, he is destruction. And with Chat being inactive-”
“B-but there have been solo Ladybugs before, right?” she asked, her voice small and shaking, desperately trying to get the dreadful thought out of her head, to grasp at the straws that were too far away to reach.
“Of course, but in those instances the Guardian has had the Cat Miraculous, and you don’t-”
“So- so you’re saying I’m becoming weaker?”
“...yes.”
Okay.
Woah.
Well, that- that wasn’t the answer she wanted.
If it was something to do with her? It would make her want to curl up in a hole and die, but she could have given the miraculous to someone like Alya. That… she could have lived with that.
But it was because of Chat.
“Spots on.”
“Marinette, we need to tal-” she began before being pulled into the age old magic of the jewellry.
Wipe the tears.
Settle the anger.
Smile through it.
“Rena! Cara! Tikki can’t explain it, but I’ll look into the Grimoire and see if I can decipher anything, okay?” she said, eyes too bright and grin too broad, fingers itching to extend the yo-yo.
Alyas tone liften with concern, sharing a look with Nino, “But-”
“Sorry! Have to go! See you soon!”
*.*.*.*
“Hey, Chat.”
“I-I’m sorry for not talking to you in a while. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you don't even bother listening to these anymore, but…”
Mari laughed wistfully, looking down at the picture she had committed to memory. Cool rain grazed her skin, her hand reaching to swipe the droplets off of Chats face. “But I feel like you’re the only one who’ll listen without lecturing me, and that’s kind of your fault, I’ll be honest.”
“I hope you’re having fun, wherever you are. Maybe you’re at one of those conventions you always wanted to go to. Or, maybe…” she dragged out, rifling through her memories, the majority of them bringing her more sadness than joy, “...maybe you’re at the freaking Sanrio store, I don’t know.”
“Nothing much to report, other than Rena and Carapace being annoyingly worried about me,” she added with a strained laugh, trying to latch onto any semblance of normality, because even after all this time, after almost eight months of feeling alone, laughing with Chat still cast a warm blanket of familiarity over her.
“I miss you,” she said, staring down at the profile photo, tracing the outline with the pointer finger, “I’m sorry if these calls are irritating, by the way. Well, I’m not really sorry, but who cares, right?”
“Miss you. Love you.”
The thought of telling Chat “I love you” a year ago would have sent her into a fit of stutters and blushing, because Chat knew, he knew how much she loved him, right?
Marinette of the past thought it was apparent how deeply she cared for and admired her partner, but Marinette of the future knew that maybe saying it could make all the difference.
Even if the butterflies in her stomach were slightly uncomfortable, they were worth it.
*.*.*.*
“Ladybug!”
Okay, these reporters were getting ridiculous.
(She almost smiled as Chloés voice rang through her head.)
Adam? Alex? Was getting dangerously close to the akuma victim, who was absorbing everything in sight and growing bigger with each new addition.
Usually, this wouldn’t have been much of a problem. She would calmly explain that they needed to vacate the area while reinstating that she didn’t wish to answer any questions, and then zip back into battle.
Now, Marinette had two factors working against her.
- Her cure wasn’t working, so any and all injuries would remain after the fight had been won
- She was running on an hour of sleep and was about to caffeine crash because she had accidentally stayed out all night stopping petty crime instead of going home and actually facing her problems.
But, she was fine.
Absolutely, positively fine.
“Please vacate the area until the akuma is cleansed, thank you!” Her voice rang out through her gritted teeth, a picture perfect smile plastered on her face.
“One question! Where is Chat Noir?”
“ Please leave or you could be seriously injured!” she pleaded, retracting the yo-yo and pushing back the crowds.
11 months.
Christmas had come and gone without hilarious gag gifts from Chat and him stopping by Marinettes balcony to leave off something beautifully crafted. The rest of winter disappeared in a flash with the absence of wool hats and mittens wrapped tightly around them. Spring was welcomed by Marinette sitting on a rooftop, pulling petals off a daisy and ranting to a phone that was never called. July was beautiful, but the yellow of sand and bright cerulean of waves was dampened and dirtied by the lack of ice creams shared with another.
It had almost been a year.
She was preparing to go back to school, packing her bag with pens and paper and a polaroid of Chat in her backpack. Maybe it was risky, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care anymore.
She had long since admitted that his disappearance wasn’t affecting her in the most platonic way. She missed his chaste hugs and hand holdings that were treated like secrets. Luka had asked her out again, his eyes kind and words soft but she just couldn’t think about saying yes without the ghost of his face appearing in her mind.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” her mother had told her once when she had been crying over Adrien leaving for a month.
“Okay, enough absence, you can come back now,” she had muttered one night with an almost unnoticeable amount of venom in her tone.
“Chat Noir has been absent for a year and we want answers!” a bolder woman had yelled, shoving a camera in her face and almost throttling her with a microphone.
Stay calm.
Settle the anger.
Smile thr-
Frick smiling.
“Chat is busy and I, frankly, am tired of reiterating the same thing over and over! Now if you will all please leave before you get swallowed by this giant pile of slime I would be happy to save this god forsaken city again like I have been doing with his help for the past 3 years.”
Her hands shook as she forced the microphone back towards its owner, and even she was surprised at the amount of finality and frustration that had spewed from her mouth. Face reddening and jaw slackening, she cried for Carapace to cover her before rejoining the battle.
*.*.*.*
“Paris is in uproar as a new side to Ladybug is exposed!” reported Nadja before she shut down the tab and reopened a new one, scouring for something slightly… kinder.
“Ladybug explodes on camera at the most recent akuma battle!”
“We are done with Ladybugs excuses! Let's find Chat Noir!”
“Chat Noir, the hero who disappeared without a trace, has become a touchy subject to Paris’s favourite superhero-”
“Reporters are annoying and Ladybug is done with it (as she should be).”
Maybe going to the Ladyblog was the tiniest bit pathetic when Alya knew how much Chat Noir meant to her (well, Ladybug), but c’mon, every single article, report and television segment was trying to villainize her and frankly, the very mention of the word Ladybug was starting to make her nauseous.
“Maman, I’m going out!” She climbed down the stairs, retrieving her purse that Tikki had already made herself cosy in before picking up a scone and a small tub of cream, fitting the flimsy plastic lid on.
“Marin-”
“I’ll be home before 11 and will text you when I get there, okay?”
“Who’s going? Where-”
“Alya is meeting me halfway and we’re just seeing a movie with Nino and maybe Chloé. Is that all?”
Thankfully, Sabine didn’t realise that the closest movie theatre had shut down, or that Chloé was in Milan or that her child had selected a scone as her cinema snack of choice.
Frankly, her daughter wasn’t surprised at the absence of refusal. A year ago, she couldn't have left the apartment without promising relentlessly to send a text every hour, on the hour, and to have her location on. Now, her parents had taken to saying yes to anything that got her out of her duvet cocoon.
Mari <3 ---> Alys :D
Mari: sorry to ask but could you cover for me if maman texts you?
Alys: yes ofc, where you going?
Mari: nowhere special, just heading to see an old friend, thanks for the cover alys :)
Alys: dw about it mari, have fun, stay safe <3
(Seen at 8:28)
In a way, she tried to justify, she wasn't lying. Just… bending the truth.
Humid air kissed her face , running through her hair and adding a well needed breeze. The sun was far from setting, gracing the horizon with its presence as she zipped across the streets she knew so well. As alive as she was with buzzing energy, her limbs dragged her down, exhaustion permeating her very skin. A good few days had past without a restful sleep, slumber only prolonging the sluggish feeling rather than curing it.
“Hello Chat Noir,” she chorused, practically singing. “How are you today, my dear friend?” (and if that was a hilariously bad attempt at covering her emerging feelings, no one had to know.)
“I, for one, am extremely and inexplicably tired, and desperately trying to impress you with words longer than three syllables.” Her laugh rang out, not so much breaking as already broken. Every time she came to a rooftop and pulled out this goddamned phone, a sharp feeling of optimism would encircled her chest, a light illuminating the possibility that he would pick up and explain whatever the hell had happened, And every time the dial tone rang out, water killed that flicker and consumed her lungs, pulling her into the darkness.
“You’ve probably seen the clip. I defended you because you weren’t there to do it yourself, but you have to give me a hand, okay? Prove it to those snobby reporters that Chat Noir is a name to respect. I’m- Chat, I can’t- I can’t keep pretending like I’m fine because I’m not, I’m not okay and you can fix me, Chaton.”
Those words held the weight of the world.
All it would take was one text, one word that Chat wasn’t-
He wasn’t-
She wasn’t ready to say the word yet, because saying it would be realising that there really was a chance that he was gone and couldn't come back instead of wouldn’t.
Marinette thought that she was allowed to have this semblance of an illusion.
“Anyways! Enough about me, how about you?” the super covered, moving on with enthusiasm so potent it was obviously forced. “I keep thinking you’re lurking in the shadows, ready to jump in at a moment's notice.” She didn't mean for it to sound as expectant as it did. “Or you could be in Mexico, I'm not sure which you would prefer.”
She sat, swinging her legs and monologuing on until the moon replaced the sun and the clouds cast shadows of the stars. It brought painful memories to the forefront of her mind of when she would fall asleep to the sound of his voice, the rhythm of his lungs inhaling and exhaling while his heart audibly raced with excitement being the most pleasant lullaby.
“I better head off now, it's getting quite late. I love you,” she confessed like she did night after night. Even now, when she had said the same thing night after night at the end of phone call and phone call, and blushes had subsided to soft smiles as she whispered the three words, they hadn't become meaningless at all.
Marinette knew she didn't love him in the most platonic sense of the word, and she despised herself for it.
————————————————————————
“-and then I was like “No, Cara, there is absolutely no way that will work,” and then he freaking cast-”
“Ladybug?”
“Rena!” Marinette yelled as she turned to face Alya, the majority of it being surprised while a more selfish part annoyed that she had interrupted her. “Rena, say hi to Chat,” she reminded while gently smiling at the phone.
“Hi Chat,” she said with an air of uncomfortableness, eyeing it strangely before moving to sit down across from Ladybug.
Marinette didn’t pay attention to her stiff mannerisms, instead choosing to lay in wait for what she was about to say. “Could you, well, maybe hang up-?”
“Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, just give me a second,” she responded. “Well, monsieur, I’m afraid I must take my leave. I’ll see you tomorrow, Chat. I love you.”
The surprised look she received from the fox didn’t ease her worries.
“Ladybug-“
Marinette instantly cut her off, the pity weighing in her words too much to handle, “Rena.”
“He’s not coming back.”
“You- You don’t know that! What? Did he phone you up and tell you that he’s left for good? No? Well then how can you know for sure, Rena?”
She acknowledged that she shouldn’t be exploding at Rena, but her side eyes filled with sympathy fed a fire of doubt in her stomach.
“You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t lie to a friend. Chat isn’t coming back and you pretending like he is isn’t going to change it.”
Her hands itched to smash the stupid phone. She had done, maybe at around the three month mark, throwing it against a wall until the glass had cracked and the metal had warped. The next time she had transformed, it was there, good as new.
“What did I do wrong?”
Alya pulled her towards herself, rubbing soothing circles on her back and smoothing down her hair while Marinette resigned herself to crying. It held a strange sense of deja vu for Marinette, the scene of her civilian self crying while Alya had comforted her over something as pathetic and immature as getting rejected. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Chat- Chat wouldn’t leave you like that, even I know that.”
“One day, my lucky charm won’t work, you know, and then I won’t be able to transform,” she confessed through the light tears reflecting some of the moonlight. “I just- God, Rena I can say I want him back so that Paris will be safe and I can save everyone as many times as I want, but I just want him back for me. And I know it’s not healthy to stay up thinking about the what ifs, or sleeping through events just so I don’t have to be awake in a world without him, but how healthy can it be to be without the person you love?”
“You really do love him, don’t you?”
It wasn’t so much a question as a way to confirm it.
“Of course I do.”
“I’m sorry I can‘t do anything.”
“Can I call him again?”
“Mhm,” she replied, answering a question that didn’t need it.
“M’sorry,” she answered while she screwed the heels of her hands into her eyes, making her head reel. “It’s pathetic, really.”
“Not at all, LB. ”
*.*.*.*
“We have to tell her.”
“We can’t!” Nino yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “She’ll feel like a burden.”
“I don’t give a damn! Dupain-Cheng needs support and we can't give it to her if we don't bring her back to reality,” Chloé responded with zeal.
The conversation shared between Rena Rouge and Ladybug a few nights ago had spurred Alya into paying more attention to what could possibly have gone so wrong as to send Marinette into a barely sentient state of being.
“Marinette is not doing well. We must help her in any way possible, and if that includes reminding her that Adrien isn’t returning, it is what must be done,” Kagami had stated, finding the argument that had steadily been progressing unnecessary.
“Do we even know if it is about Adrien?” asked Luka, setting down his guitar onto the bed. They were discussing it in a suite in the Bourgeois hotel, courtesy of Chloé, “It’s been over a year, and I think she would have come to us if it was about him.”
“I want to do something but she won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“Alya,” Nino had said while fixing his posture, rubbing the back of his neck, “she won’t tell anyone- this isn’t something you did!”
“Sure feels like it,” the reporter mumbled.
A few hours later, sun still high in the sky and leather against her tanning skin, she pulled out the flute and made a call she never wanted to make.
“Chat Noir, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you but you need to come back if you can. Seriously, Ladybug is destroying herself waiting for you.”
She hoped to God he was listening.
“I know you didn’t really know me that well, but you knew Ladybug, and you owe it to her, okay?” she ranted, sun beaming down on her. “She goes and calls you every single night, just because there is a minuscule possibility that you might be there, ready to listen. And I can't keep pretending that it’s healthy, because-“
*.*.*.*
“-because it’s not and you ghosting her has borderline traumatised her. You’re selfish and inconsiderate and not the person I thought you were.”
It hurt a lot less than his lady’s messages, ridden with sobs and valiant efforts to be optimistic, but it hurt nevertheless. The stars were pretty that night, he recalled, as he made the decision to leave everything behind.
“I’m sorry, Rena. And I’m sorry, My Lady,” he whispered under the judging eyes of the stars that were the same above him as they were above her.
“You need to come back or I‘ll track you down and come drag you back, you hear me?”
Adriens thoughts lingered on the days where Rena had used that voice to subject villains to the worst form of torture: honesty.
“Now, I’ve got to go and save the city you abandoned. Take care,” she spat with venom.
The moon looked down upon him and pitied him, the stars sent their prayers, but none of it was enough to subside the complex guilt in his lungs, drowning him.
*.*.*.*
“Ladybug!”
The cry came from below her, ash clouding her lungs and vision. Aphid had been on the downlow for the previous weeks, leaving Marinette to either mope and fruitlessly wait for an attack to distract her restless head, or deal with things that she would rather leave for future Mari. And so, she found herself on top of an apartment complex that was almost as close to caving as she was.
She swiftly made her way down, plucking a small girl from her mother’s arms, tear tracks the only exposed skin among her smoke-ridden features.
She would get them all out. She had to.
That was not the first person she saved that night, neither was it the last, but the broken resignation of a mother accepting death while salvaging her daughter from the same fate haunted her thoughts with every new face.
“You’re really Ladybug?” the child questioned, voice hoarse from smoke inhalation. In the few hours that had passed, the building had been evacuated, homes turned to nothing but ash with memories.
“I am,” she replied with a smile.
“And you’re friends with Chat Noir?”
“Yeah,” she responded, denying her tears the pleasure of falling.
The small girl practically vibrated with excitement, eyes gleaming with happiness rather than tears, “He’s my favourite super hero! Not like you’re not cool, but he’s awesome!”
She seemed to be no older than eight, the charred hem of her pyjamas and the dust in her hair doing nothing to deter her.
“I’ll tell you a secret, okay?” she knelt down to meet her in the eye, whispering softly, “He’s my favourite too!”
“Really?”
“Mhm! A cataclysm is much cooler than my lucky charm.”
“But you’re really smart and make all the plans, so you’re cool too,” she reassured, comically serious.
“Chat makes plans too, but I’m nowhere near as brave as he is.”
“Will you tell him he’s my favourite when he comes back?”
“You bet I will,” she replied, mirroring her expression.
I don’t think I’ll ever get to.
As so, she found herself back on the rooftop that seemed to witness every small win and every big defeat. However, this time she wasn’t accompanied by a dial tone. The stars are pretty, she noted as she connected them in her mind. Memories came to her of Chat pointing out official constellations, while she elected to draw lines between the bright lights, not really caring what the milky way was.
She never really had a chance to be a kid, and she mourned the person she could have been if childhood wasn’t ripped from her grasp. She didn’t have the opportunity to look up to superheroes and yearn to be like them, to idolise them and their every move. She was the person people adored, and that weight sometimes felt too heavy to shoulder.
The phone rang, and for a fleeting moment she allowed her mind to ponder the possibility of her partner being on the other side, waiting for her to answer so he could console her.
Rena Rouge is calling.
“Rena?”
“Ladybug, I- you’ve got to get down to Le Grand Paris. Bring the bee miraculous and the snake miraculous if you can-”
“Rena, slow down!” she hissed, her mind desperately attempting to decipher whatever the hell was spewing out of Renas mouth. She seemed to catch her breath, eyes darting around as she did so.
“There are more than ten akumatized villains, Carapace and I, we can’t hold them off for long.”
“Le Grand Paris?”
“Mhm.”
“I’m on my way.”
The stars are pretty tonight.
*.*.*.*
“Second Chance!”
Her head feels clearer, a plan hatching in her brain as she focuses on the self proclaimed “Play Write” in front of her, tar that looks like ink littering the streets. She just needs to get to the pen-
She could feel the jolt as she’s swept back, her skull meeting hard brick.
“Second Chance!”
Her head feels clearer, a plan hatching in her brain as she focuses on the self proclaimed “Play Write” in front of her, tar that looks like ink littering the streets. She just needs to get to the pen-
She swung to the next building, narrowly missing a tidal wave from another akuma.
“Bee!” she yelled, diverting Chloés attention. She had matured greatly since they had last called upon her, her spoiled manner being balanced in her regretfulness. “I need you to-”
Chloé is mouthing something at her, eyes wide and glassed over with terror as she fearfully waves her hands in Ladybug's general direction, and only then does Marinette realise that she’s dangerously close to “Soundproof”, a villain that has a blank sheet for a face and ominously turns around at the slightest whisper.
It barely registered before her lungs stopped working.
“Second Chance!”
Her head feels clearer, a plan hatching in her brain as she focuses on the self proclaimed “Play Write” in front of her, tar that looks like ink littering the streets. She just needs to get to the pen-
She swung to the next building, narrowly missing a tidal wave from another akuma. Her mouth opens, ready to holler for Queen Bee, but a hand wrapped around the bottom half of her face, turquoise leather revealing the culprit.
“Soundproof is behind her,” he whispered, his eyes shooting to the villain behind the hero. Every atom of it was created from nightmares.
“We’re outnumbered.”
“We are,” he admitted, gaze never moving from her. “Ryuko?”
“Unavailable.”
“Carapace and Rena are currently recharging inside the hotel.”
“Okay,” she said absentmindedly, wracking her mind for a solution. Adding another person to the battle would necessitate returning home to retrieve a miraculous, which would leave Viperion and Queen Bee by themselves. While she had no doubt they were able, abandoning them to deal with the eight or so villains they had left didn’t sit right with her. Mason jars housing the indigo butterflies were in the safe residing in Chloés room, another new development being that she was unable to purify them.
Absolutely wonderful.
“You’re about to transform,” she reminded Luka. Noting his hesitancy to leave, she reassured him, “Cara and Rena will be back soon, we’ll manage.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am,” she answered.
*.*.*.*
Adrien Agreste was awoken from a restless sleep by the notification of an akuma attack.
(He never could bear to delete the Ladyblog from his bookmarks bar, among other news stations.)
“What-”
He furiously blinked the cloud of sleep out of his vision, hands moving to pull back the covers that seemed to suffocate him. The pixelated footage featured his Lady, battling three or more monsters while Queen Bee became alarmingly near to passing out.
Where the hell are the others?
It didn't take long for the hypocrisy of his thoughts to slap him in the face.
Where are they ? You’re sitting in a hotel room, Agreste, hiding from the problems you created!
His hands fiddled together, the absence of cool metal encircling his finger making him want to burst out in sobs then and there.
No matter what he tried to distract himself with, whether it was brewing a mug of tea or compulsively splashing his face with cool water, his eyes always drifted back to the glass phone screen.
A scream ripped from her throat as she was thrown against the pavement, the ceramic in his hand clattering and smashing on the floor as she did so.
She- in all the days he had known her, in every single battle that he had the gift of fighting with her, she had never cried like that.
He could see blood, so much blood puddling around her, a gash in her side freezing him in his place.
Get the ring.
The small hexagonal box found its place in his palm, his fingers twisting to open in.
“Kitten-!”
“I’m sorry Plagg,” he murmured, “I’m sorry for everything, but- but right now we need to help Ladybug, okay?”
“Thank kwamis above-” he hissed, exasperated. Before Adrien could even say the words, he was prompted by a yell of “Well, what are you waiting for?”
“Plagg!” he shouted, sliding the metal band on with ease, “Claws Out!”
*.*.*.*
There was something sticky on her hand.
She never quite liked the texture, cleaning her hands when they managed to come into contact with honey or something similar. It was ironic, really, a baker's daughter not appreciating the fundamentals of creating. Maybe it was why she went into fashion, maybe they weren’t related at all.
Her Maman would be going to wake her up in a few hours, expecting messy hair and fabric scraps rather than a cold and barren bed.
Her Papa would be waiting with a good morning croissant, warm and flaky on her tongue. She had always liked croissants, but her fathers were different in the most amazing way.
If she squinted hard enough, she could almost convince herself that the crimson blood staining her hand was honey.
Honey meant bees, and bees meant flowers, and flowers were oh so beautiful. They reminded her of spring, peonies and tulips and roses were always so wonderful. She could see peonies and tulips and roses now, scarlet red and darkening as her vision tunneled.
If she were a rose, she was losing far too many petals at the present moment.
Chat wouldn’t like to see her like this, blood tainting the perfect smile he always found a way to coax out of her. He would figure out who she was, soon enough. It almost made her frown, the thought of his question being answered while she would never have the chance to learn about him. Would she even detransform after she had left this place? She would have to ask Tikki if she ever got the chance.
(She was certain she wouldn’t.)
She wanted to hold her one last time, to cradle her in the warmth of her palm and reassure her that this was meant to happen, that she couldn’t last forever, that nothing could change what was about to happen and not to blame herself for a guardian's misfortune.
What would happen to the kwamis?
Maybe Alya would take them, as she would her earrings, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng would become a martyr even when she wished to be anything but.
They talk about your life flashing before your eyes before you die in movies, but she supposed that no one had ever been able to correct film makers. It wasn’t a flashing, more of a… a highlights reel.
Chat was in almost every single one.
She wouldn't ever have the chance to tell him she loved him, not in a way that mattered.
That made a few more tears spring to her eyes as she stared into the void they called the sky.
Whatever energy remained was fading, Tikkis presence distancing by the second.
At least she would go with a smile, she supposed.
There was the blue of the sky.
There was the black of her eyelids.
There was the nothingness that preceded death.
And then there was-
There was-
There was something.
“...Bug… sorry… sooner.... Don’t leave....”
They sobbed, wetting her face. Her hand seemed to flit up to wipe their tears, but the next second it was still laying heavy as ever against her chest.
“Cataclysm.”
Solder bust, something or other giving way as her veins coarsed with vibrant, electrifying power.
The first thing her open eyes met was jade green irises swimming with tears.
They almost looked like his eyes.
“M’Lady?” he whispered, voice cracking as he did so. Hopelessness didn't suit him half as well as his cocky smirk did.
“Chat?”
“It’s me, Bug,” he murmured with a melancholy grin.
Black spots ran over her eyes, clarity not returning to her quite yet.
Ladybugs spots.
There were two eyes, and then four, and then two again.
“It’s going dark again.”
She was broken.
“Don’t worry, bug. I’ll be here when it gets lighter, promise.”
“Promise?” Guttural breathing interrupted her, making Chat wince at the low and creaking sounds.
“I promise. You just need to hang on a little longer.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” he responded, the blaring sirens closing in.
The wound slowly closed up, marred flesh replacing flowing blood streams.
Thank God for Tikki.
*.*.*.*
When Marinette was awoken for the second time, she was certain she was gone. What else would constitute Chat Noir sitting beside her, stroking her cheek, if not her body's way of coping.
“Ladybug?”
I got his voice just right, she pondered.
“You can hear me, right?”
“Yeah,” she sighed, breath heavy and eyelids heavier. “You sound just like, well, you.”
“I… I am me, bug.”
“Don’t- don’t say that!” she hissed. “You’re not him. You’ll never be him. I’m- I’m making it up to cope or some crap.”
“What-“
“I read it in a psychology book or whatever. People hallucinate, I think- I mean- Igh!” she yelled, pounding her fist against the concrete.
“Why- Why do you think I’m not real?”
It seemed hurt, weirdly enough.
“You’re not Chat. Chat isn’t coming back.”
“I’m here, Bug. Honestly, I know it doesn’t mean anything and you don’t have to forgive me but I’m here and I’m sorry.”
“S-Stop,” she stuttered, voice breaking, “Don’t say shit like that.”
“Why?”
“Because if you came back you could! There wasn’t anything stopping you from staying! I’m imagining it because if you’re back that means- it means you left me,” she yelled, quieting towards the end of her outburst.
“You don’t have to forgive me.”
“I… I want to forgive you!”
“But you can't?” he guessed, infuriatingly accurate.
“Do you know how long I stared at that fucking phone, waiting for you to call? I left messages when I was half demented,” she raged, looking everywhere but his eyes.
“I heard them.”
“And then- what-?”
“I listened to every single message. I wanted to die when I thought about how much I hurt you.”
“You… you did?”
“Of course I did! I’m in love with you! I care about you! And I’m not going to throw that away.”
“But you did,” she mumbled.
“I did,” he replied.
“Just… why, Chaton? Why wasn’t I good enough?”
He chuckled, strained and tense as tears ran off his chin. “You? You were perfect! You are the best thing to ever happen to this city, to me. And that’s why I had to go.”
Their eyes met for what felt like the first time in millennia, an eclipse of two halves equally broken.
“Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth.”
“And?” she probed, searching for anything.
“And I should have noticed!” he yelled, startling her.
“How the hell were you meant to?” she choked out through fits of rage and wracking sobs.
“Because we lived under the same roof for seventeen years! He was- He was my father, and-“ he was cut off by a stifling hug, burying himself further and further into the crook of her neck.
“I-“
“Don't talk right now, okay? This- none of this is your fault.”
“I love you,” he reminded.
“I love you too,” she replied.
And they were two halves, equally broken, that fit perfectly together.