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Every time the sirens go off, Fu has to prepare for the worst. He grabs the Box and slips it into the bag, because the Miracle Box is all that matters. The enemy cannot be allowed to get their hands on it.
“We can do something about it,” Marianne says, tugging at the strap of the bag.
“We have to go, Marianne,” he says. “We have to find shelter.”
“We can protect them,” she says. “I know we can do it. You and I, the dream team, am I right? With the Ladybug and Black Cat…”
“No,” he says. “We’ve had this discussion before. It’s too dangerous to use the Miraculous against non-magical threats. It isn’t until the lost Butterfly and Peacock resurface that we should be concerned about the Miraculous.”
“All you care about is getting them back,” she says. “Why don’t you help people for once?”
“It’s too risky,” he says. He firmly believes that it cannot possibly be worth it to bring out the Ladybug and Black Cat. “We cannot change the course of history.”
She takes his hands. “We could be history.”
“We are never going to be history if we die in this bombing,” he says. “I must keep the Box safe. It is my sacred duty.” He has to atone for his failings, for the child he once was. “I cannot let it be destroyed because of our folly. I cannot let us be destroyed because we were too preoccupied with delusions of grandeur than keeping what matters safe. I know it is not your duty. You do not have to stay with me if you do not wish to. But I will not give out the Miraculous for this.”
“It would be you and me, and that would be all,” she responds, pleading.
“But what if we lose?” he retorts. With that, he exits out the door, and heads for the bomb shelter.
Marianne arrives at the bomb shelter a few moments later. The sirens blaze around them, and the spirit of the room in general is low. Fu wonders if everyone thinks tonight is the night they die.
Fu knows that he will live. As long as he has the Guardianship, he will continue to live. He will not die after losing it, but he will not last long afterwards, either.
He does not know what to do about Marianne. He loves her, but he knows that whatever they are…they cannot carry on like this. They cannot keep going as they are; this tear in their beliefs will fracture them entirely.
But still, the fact that she is near him says a great deal. It proves that even now, she still loves him. And he will not push her away. He’s pushed everyone else that has been close to him before over his guilt, over keeping the Box secret.
Marianne knows everything. Every secret he’s ever kept, every dark part of his heart. He doesn’t want to ruin it. He doesn’t want to ruin the only healthy relationship he’s had before.
He rests his head on her shoulder first. There is nothing left for the two of them to do besides wait for the all clear that signifies the bombing is over.
It is difficult to fall asleep when there is an ongoing bombing. Each hit rattles the earth.
Still, most of the people here try. And eventually, most everyone has given way to their exhaustion.
He is still awake. And with a glance at Marianne, she is, as well.
“I apologize,” he whispers. “I should have heard you out, at any rate. I treated you as though you were not worth listening to. I don’t wish to ever make you feel this way. I will listen to you now, if you wish to reopen the discussion we had.”
She takes a breath. “I admit I’m mad at you for that. I will always put the saving of human lives above all else. Maybe our beliefs are just…fundamentally incompatible.”
No. He can’t let this be the end of their relationship. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “I wish I could save them, just as much as you want to. But putting the Miraculous out there makes our enemies aware of them.”
“And if they are aware of them, they could attempt to steal and replicate the magic,” Marianne says softly. “I understand. You’re afraid.”
“If you knew the destruction that could rain down on all of us, you would be as well,” he says. “I know this is not the end.”
“It isn’t,” Marianne responds. She swallows. “But I have a great deal of fear for what is to come. I trust you understand.”
“I do,” he says. “It is quite difficult to be optimistic in these times. But we must carry on with hope, above all else. Hope for the future. Hope that we will pull through.”
“Hope…and conviction,” Marianne says. “Not just faith, but knowledge. We cannot pray that things will get better, we must know that things will get better. It is only when we are in possession of that knowledge that a better future arrives for us.”
“Then…I know things will get better, Marianne,” Fu says.
“I know things will get better as well,” she says, and leans back into him. “I know this is not the end, either.”
But in the end, that is the last day they see each other.
Marianne leaves for London the next morning to stay with her grandchildren. Fu sends her off at the train platform. They were never legally together — Fu doesn’t even legally exist. But he still feels a deep connection to her.
If he stays in Paris, one day she will return. He remembers her words — “we cannot pray that things will get better, we must know things will get better.”
The words still ring true.
He knows, one day, Marianne will return — when the world is no longer torn apart by war.
(And she does return. His knowledge has been realized.)