Chapter Text
Ladybug’s first thought as she turned the thick, cream envelope over in her hands was that the letter was heavier than she’d thought it’d be when she saw it stuck fast to the metal beam, but she guessed when you were one of the top designers in Europe, let alone France, you could afford the fancy stuff. At least, that was what she chose to focus on as she weighed the envelope in her hand, eyeing Gabriel Agreste’s scrawling signature.
She should, she thought, throw the envelope like a frisbee and see if her Miraculous-enhanced strength could launch it clear across the English channel. Nothing good could come from slipping her pinky under the flap, breaking the seal, and seeing what was so important that he’d paid someone to bring his letter all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower and secure it to the workers platform she was known to frequent on her nightly patrols. She had to change her pattern, she though savagely. She was getting to predictable.
And yet…
She allowed herself the briefest, bare-bones fantasy as she ran her fingers along the edge of the envelope; that he had somehow discovered her identity…that, rather than reveal it, he’d looked into who she was…that he’d discovered her body of work online…that he wanted to mentor her…to give her a hand up in the world of high fashion…
Ladybug let the day-dream fade with a painful swallow, already regretting the flight of fancy. There would be no wondrous offer, because there was no body of work to be discovered. Besides, she’d been more than careful with her identity. There wasn’t a soul alive who believed Ladybug was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but more than that, there wasn’t a soul alive who believed that Marinette Dupain-Cheng could be Ladybug. She’d made sure of that.
Besides, the envelope was addressed to Ladybug. Most likely he wanted a bodyguard for an event, or perhaps, she couldn’t help but think, he wanted to base a collection off her. Either way, the fact remained that while the door to his world had been closed to her for some time now, she still admired him enough to at least see what he hoped to gain from her acquaintance. Maybe he thought he knew who Hawk Moth was, she mused bitterly as she slit the flap open, breaking his official-looking wax seal. Maybe Gabriel Agreste had his finger on the pulse of Paris and her nightmares would finally stop.
The paper was just as fancy as the envelope, with the Gabriel brand letterhead embossed in gold at the top of the sheet. It was odd, she thought, as she pulled the thick sheet out and unfolded it; Gabriel had always struck her as a high-tech man, always appearing on screens or phone calls, rarely in person. But the letter she now held had been written by hand, in looping cursive, with smooth black ink.
To the Guardian of Paris, Ladybug,
I would like to formally invite you to my home at Place du Châtelet, 75001 tomorrow evening at 7 pm to discuss a business opportunity. I realize this is during the time you patrol the city, but given the nature of your work, I was unsure when else you may be available. I assure you, no reporters will be present at the meeting; I know there is no love lost between you and Paris’s press.
That being said, I’m sure you’re aware your reputation is not what it could be. I believe that I am in a position to offer you a mutually beneficial opportunity that would be advantageous to us both. If I have piqued your interest, please return this letter to my butler by 3 pm. If it does not arrive, I will know you are not interested.
In any case, thank you for your time in reading this letter and, I hope, for your consideration.
Regards,
Gabriel Agreste
‘Not what it could be’, Ladybug thought wryly as she scanned the letter again, was putting it mildly. The truth was she was liked only slightly better than Hawk Moth himself. Unfortunately for Gabriel, the fact of it was that she didn’t care. She’d given four years of her life to the city, and in return they’d mangled her family, her future. Ladybug was all she had left, the only thing with life still left in it. And at the end of the day, she knew Hawk Moth’s future was not a world she wanted to live in. Fuck her reputation.
Still…
She hesitated, rereading the first line. ‘A business opportunity’. She mouthed the words as she read them, and the cinders of her day-dream stirred. Unbidden, she envisioned a fitted red dress with a long train, elegantly draped around a slim figure. Inky black trim began to take shape, but Ladybug shoved the image down, smothering it until it was well and truly dead. Even if she could admit the design itself was lovely and elegant, no one would ever see her that way.
Gabriel could make them see me that way, a little voice whispered before she could stop it. Maybe no one would like it, but it was a designers’ prerogative to turn over a muse’s life, to see beauty where there were only sharp edges. Maybe he saw something no one else did. Maybe something even she believed had been snuffed out a long, long time ago.
“No,” she muttered, turning her head to look down at the glittering city, her fist crumpling the expensive paper. “No.”
But, undeniably, she realized that Gabriel was offering her a part of her life back, a part she’d thought was gone forever. Maybe she wouldn’t be the one designing, and maybe it would be Ladybug, not Marinette, who was the star, but…
It was something. More than she ever thought she’d get. And maybe, she thought, if she could have this one thing, and use it to finally, really let go of the future she’d wanted, maybe she could step forward into the future she had with fewer regrets.
*
“Tell the investors the issue will be rectified,” Gabriel instructed his assistant, Nathalie. “In very short order - before they see their shares affected.”
“Yes, sir,” Nathalie said on the screen, but she hesitated, glancing off to the side at something he couldn’t see, though most likely just away from his unflinching stare. “Sir, if they decide - ”
“What they decide is irrelevant,” Gabriel snapped. He disconnected the call without so much as a goodbye, deciding Nathalie had outworn her usefulness, at least that evening, and turned, as he so often did, to study the portrait of his wife behind his desk. There would be no changes to his company unless he decided so, but he wasn’t about to risk losing it. Ladybug had to accept his offer. She had to.
The sudden swish of something whipping through the air was the only warning Gabriel got.
He whirled, throwing up an arm, but the projectile missed him by a wide margin, the spin on the object curving expertly through his large office. It hit one of his mannequins with a smack. When he lowered his arm, Gabriel saw a familiar envelope wedged between the fingers of the mannequin wearing his latest show piece. He turned to the window, but the night air was as still and empty as it had been during his call.
Gabriel took a deep breath and straightened his tie, and if he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t shivered at who he knew had been at his window, he could at least ignore the reaction. Back straight, he marched over to the mannequin and yanked the envelope from between her porcelain fingers.
The flap had been tucked back into the envelope, the seal having been broken. The paper showed surprisingly little signs of damage, but that made sense. Cold and calculating she might be, but the Ladybug he knew was not a brute. Still, the envelope gave him pause; through the weighty paper, he could feel ridges on the sheet within, almost as if…she had crumpled it?
He had no reason to pull it out. His only request had been that she return the missive to signal her intent to join him; the fact that it had arrived was a clear enough indicator of her decision.
But those ridges…
Gabriel freed the flap and pulled the sheet from inside.
Creases spider-webbed out from the centre of the thick paper, as if she’d crumpled it in her hand. One line went directly through his signature, mangling it. And there, at the blank bottom of the note, written in red ink in a lacey, feminine scrawl:
‘I’ll be there’.