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It was lucky Marinette happened to look out her bedroom window at the right time to see Chat Noir leaping across the dark Parisian skyline. Her gut, her Lucky Charm sense, intuition, common sense—whatever you want to call it—told her to transform.
“Tikki…”
It was a good thing she did, for she had a single message from him waiting for her.
“Hey,” his voice was strange. Strained? “Can...Can you meet me at...” a long pause, in which she realized water was running in the background, “our usual place?” he whispered, “I have something to—We need to— Just. Come. Please. I...I need—“ he sighed. “It’s important. Come. Please,” he seemed to...beg? Was that a sob in his voice?
She was out of there in an instant.
~*~*~*~*~
She met him at their usual place on the Eiffel Tower, on the top, where there was a great view of the entire city and they were far from prying ears and eyes.
He stood, looking out at the railing.
“Hey,” she came down next to him carefully, “I got your message. You said you...had something to tell me?”
He nodded stiffly. Now that she looked, she noticed his whole body was stiff. He didn’t sit like the cat he was dressed as, nor as a confident superhero, not even a comfortable adult. His hands gripped the rail tightly, and his tail slashed behind him. Which was odd: she’s never been able to figure out if he could move the belt-tail or if it moved by itself, or if it was always coincidence and a trick of the wind.
When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “Chat Noir? Are you OK?”
He shook his head, and it was like water pushing on a dam. It was starting to crack.
“What happened?”
He shook his head again, his eyes breaking their lock on the horizon and dropped downward. His mouth screwed up. She could only see the side of face, but she watched him fight his expressions. He tried to school them, but with what appeared to be little luck.
“Chat? It’s me. You can tell me anything.” With a horrifying thought, her stomach dropped, “Are you afraid I’ll be mad? ...I-I won—“
He puffed out air, which might have been a small, divisive laugh. “I wasn’t. But I wouldn’t blame you. I’m mad at me too.”
“Kitty, what do you mean? What is it? What happened?” she scooted closer.
He took a deep breath, bracing himself for a very long time. Finally, “I know who Hawkmoth is.”
The words might as well have been swept away by the breeze; It took her forever to understand him. She stared, dumbfounded, trying to comprehend. Her brain kept dumping the most obvious meaning to his words—that he knew who Hawkmoth was—thinking that was unlikely and it had to be something else, but it kept circling back.
On her fifth circle, she whispered, “What?” Was this a dream? Did she want to wake from it?
She asked, “You...You know who...?” Her heart hammered. She had become less clutzy as she got older, but she was certain if she’s been walking, she’d stumble like she never had before. It’d out-do even her preteen fumbling over Adrien.
“HHHow? When? Where? Who?”
Her mind was still spinning, but she finally noticed though the daze that he was still unnaturally still.
There was a sense of danger in the air, like standing on a ledge with no parachute or supersuit. Or maybe a rickety bridge was a better analogy? Or was it more of a falling piano situation?
Whatever—clearly there was a certain element of doom, or why else would Chat—her partner who’s been trying to stop Hawkmoth with her multiple times a week for the last five years!—Why would be not be happier? Was this related to his fear of losing the costume, the freedom, the time with her?
“Chat...What is Hawkmoth’s identity?”
His jaw quivered. Was it just her or did he look...ashamed?
“I swear to you,” he started, “on everything right and good in this world, that I just found out. I...I had no idea. Though that’s not much of a defense…”
“Why do you need a defense? Chat...who is it?” she set a hand on his shoulder.
He finally spit it out, “My father.”
She gasped, hands flying to her mouth. His father?! This whole time their most dangerous nemesis was her partner’s father? The father of one of the first protectors of Paris, the holder of one of the very miraculouses he akumtized people for?!
“And I think I have a pretty good guess on who Mayura is,” Chat added, and she almost missed it. “Gahhh! I’m so stupid!”
She absently replied, “N-No, I-I’m sure you’re not—“
“It was there! Why he’s been acting so weird for years, his distance, his coldness. I should’ve recognized his voice! Or his face! His eyes, something! Or maybe that’s just a testament to how bad things have been lately...!” he sounded so bitter and angry. It was incredibly concerning to hear her usual cheery kitty sound like that. “For crying out loud, he incorporates butterflies into everything!” his arms flew out for emphasis, “I thought it was just a brand thing or something—ha, well maybe it is. It’s in everything! His work, his logo, our house! It makes me wonder how long he’s been doing this! Has he had the Butterfly Miraculous since I was kid, is that why his logo is a butterfly?!”
“I...I don’t know.”
“I just feel so stupid!” In a sudden burst of emotion and trained power, he had Cataclysmed the entire railing.
She jumped back. While he’s definitely done more damage with his Cataclysm, and definitely more when upset, she knew he was itching for more but held himself back. It may have been by a thread, but he held himself back.
But that also didn’t make him anymore relaxing to be around when emotionally volatile like this.
“Chat, don’t blame yourself. It may be a trick of the miraculous, they hide our identities. It’s what keeps us from recognizing each other, after all. What does Plagg say? Did he know?”
“No,” his tail slashed again, fists clenched, “and Plagg has no idea how. He says he should’ve recognized their presence too, but no. He pulled one over on both of us! Believe me, Plagg’s angry too.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. Are...Are you OK, kitty?” she ventured to put her hand out.
His eyes meet hers for the first time. The sharpness quickly as they welled up.
“Well, OK, clearly you’re not. B-But, I feel like you... you could use a hug?“ she winced. Did she particularly want to right now? No. But he was hurting and he needed support. He needed support.
He sniffed. Then he collapsed into a hug. And as she noticed he was crying, she tried to hold him. He was still quite tall, but not too tall to comfort.
Her mind was still whirling about this news and what to do when she heard his ring beep. It’s final warning. She had lost track of time!
“Chat, I don’t want to go, but you’re about to detransform,” she said while still hugging him, “why don’t we separate just long enough you can feed Plagg—“
“Lad—“
“Or I’ll just turn around, or head to another part of the tower. Just so Plagg can eat—“
“No. Ladybug, I’ve been thinking. And now that we know who Hawkmoth is, we have to go after him.”
His voice was surprisingly steady but she gave him a squeeze anyway.
“And we...It’s been years, we’ve been fighting him for years. He’s done so much to Paris—we owe it to them, and the kwamis, to get his miraculouses back into safe hands. And if we’re gonna do that, we can’t afford to be surprised. We’ve faced him before and he’s always managed to get away because he surprised us! We can’t let him surprise us!” he spoke fiercely, hugging her like she was the one falling apart. “And for that reason, I feel like I should tell you who I am.”
“What?!” she screeched. Right next to his ear….
“I know, I know. I seem unstable right now and so now is not the time to make big life decisions, it’s just...what if something happens to me, MiLady?” he whispered, “I can’t leave without someone else knowing. I know you don’t want to, I know it’s dangerous, especially now, especially when we’re so close, but... I know my father has been—well, if I’m being honest, a bit manipulative at best, emotionally abusive at worst. He’s always been stiff and serious, and a tad controlling. Mom used to temper that, but then she—“ he cut himself off abruptly, “the point is I would’ve said he wouldn’t do anything to seriously hurt me, but after what I know now.... I don’t know,” he drooped.
A flood of green light washed over his body. She stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Ladybug, we’ve been partners for years. I have trusted your every move, and it’s always worked out. Even when it sounded crazy, I have gone with every scheme and command and call, all blindly, because I trusted you. I trust you with my life. And I know you trust me with yours. Please, Ladybug, trust me this once. Trust my call on this.”
She took a deep breath, looking up to the starry sky. He was unstable right now. Most people wouldn’t take anything he said right now too seriously—he was in shock. And why shouldn’t he be?! A rug just got pulled out from under his feet! He was probably scared and angry, feeling betrayed and insecure. Now was not the time to make large plans. Besides, wasn’t the knowledge of knowing who Hawkmoth is a big enough reveal for one day?!
He was right. She couldn’t deny that.
“OK,” she breathed.
He stiffened this time. “Really?”
She braced herself. Was she doing this?
Yes. Yes she was. He had earned it. He had more than proved himself trustworthy. He wasn’t an idiot, nor was this something he took lightly, not anymore. He wouldn’t be dangerously reckless about this.
“Yes, Chat Noir. I trust you. And if you’re sure about this, then I trust your decision.”
He let out a breathy laugh next to her ear. His breaths pushed against her, like it was the first time he had actually breathed in a long time.
“I am. We can’t afford any surprises. And you need to know what you’re working with so you can formulate a plan. This is going to be the master of all your master plans.” He loosened his hold. “Whenever you’re ready, MiLady. Go ahead and look.”
When she was ready? Was she ever gonna be ready?!?! That ledge they were standing on before—this felt like leaping off it. No, this was letting go of a parachute. The ledge dropped out the moment she knew it was his father.
They were about to step into a path they couldn’t undo. It wouldn’t be the same afterward. This was dangerous. If she got akumatized, then nothing as safe—Hawkmoth would know who Ladybug was, where the Miracle Box was, the identities of all other holders, and who Chat Noir was. There would be no safety net, no back-up plan.
It was a good thing for kwamis, though. They needed to rescue them. They needed to get the miraculouses out of Hawkmoth’s reach. He needed to be stopped.
She may have stood there forever, but his kwami was hungry and weak and mad. He needed food. He needed supervision.
She braced herself once again, then slowly pulled back. When she finally peeled her eyes open, Adrien Agreste’s face greeted her.
“Hi,” he stated.
She stared.
“I-It’s me, MiLady,” he went on when she didn’t respond, “Chat Noir. I-I know it must be something of a shock to discover that Adrien Agreste has been your partner, huh?” he stepped away to pick up his grumbling kwami and feed him. “That’s exactly why I wanted to tell you beforehand. I-I don’t know how well you know me or if you’re a fan of my work, or my father’s, but since my face is plastered all over Paris, I didn’t see a way it wasn’t surprising.”
She blinked rapidly, finally realizing she hadn’t moved or said anything. She stared, bug-eyed.
This news was worse. Chat Noir was Adrien...?
Her brain wanted to explode. The implications alone! They’d been friends for years! They dated for a bit, even! She’d seen him everyday for years, both inside the mask and outside, and she never saw it! How?! W-What did this mean?!?!!?
Then she caught his unsure gaze.
That’s right.
He needed her. Right now, he needed her. He didn’t need an awkward, gawking, panicking Marinette. She needed to be the grounding influence, a superhero to hold onto, a reassuring partner. He needed his partner.
She’d freak out later. And thoroughly. But later.
She pulled her shoulders back, and spoke carefully, “Yes. It is surprising. You were right. I’m glad you told me.”
“You are?” His kwami was thrashing and muttering and hissing and biting, but Adrien paid little attention, as if they did this a lot. “You’re not...disappointed?”
“No! Why would I be disappointed?”
“Because I don’t exactly seem like superhero material. Have you seen the posters?”
“I have.” The understatement of the year. “But what does that matter? Clearly Master Fu saw you as a worthy holder, and you’ve proven that over and over again.”
He blinked back tears, and she didn’t think it was at least purely from the bites. His shoulders sagged.
“S-So,” she said into the silence, “that means that Hawkmoth is...your father...?”
“Yep,” he confirmed as her dread rose. “Gabriel Agreste, of the Gabriel brand. Apparently a supervillain,” his bitter laugh sounded unhinged.
“I can’t believe this...” she put a hand to her head.
“I know.”
Her eyes snapped back to him, guiltily.
“It’s OK. You can be shocked too. I don’t know how invested you are in his brand.”
She looked down, “You can say I’ve been a fan.”
He nodded. “Great.”
They sat, and talked into the night. He told her how he found out and how he was sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt. They put together all of Hawkmoth’s plots and schemes to cover his tracks. They commiserated about the implications and the warning signs they both had missed—worst of all, the limited line of miraculous replicas the designer made and sold to certain buyers. They worried about the kwamis forced to serve the villain, and how they’ve been right there this whole time. They mourned lost opportunities. They asked a million questions that they had no correct answer to. They held Plagg back from going after the bad guy single handedly or destroying something beyond repair.
Adrien looked up at the sky, grimacing. “It’s really late, isn’t it?”
Ladybug checked her yo-yo: three in the morning. She tried to cover her wince, “Uhhh, yeah. A bit.”
“You should get home. Before someone worries. Or spots us, I guess.”
“I-I guess so,” she swung her legs in the open air beneath her from her position on the ledge. “What about you? Do you have someone you could stay with tonight?”
He gazed out, thinking. It was weird: she could almost expect to see the glowing green cat eyes as his brain whirred; his expression was so similar to a look she’s seen on their late night discussions. It was the same guarded expression.
“Yeah. There are probably a few I could call on in the middle of the night for an emergency, but I was just gonna go back to my house tonight,” he turned to look at her.
“What? But you—“ she cut herself off. He may have unmasked himself, but she didn’t. He didn’t know she knew him personally. “You live with your father still, don’t you?”
“I do.”
She stared. “So why go back there?! Now that you...know what you know now...?”
“Because if I don’t, he’ll be suspicious. I’ve rarely ever spent the night away in years. And disappearing in the middle of the night? He’ll think something’s up, and we can’t let him know that we know anything. Right?”
“Right. But...to go back, now that we know...?”
“I know. I’m not exactly looking forward to it. But just like you said, we have to act normal, like we don’t know, like nothing’s changed.”
“Yes, but —“
“And that means I’ll need to go back. That’s just how it is,” he stood.
She followed, “True, but you could make up an excuse! Say a friend called you in the middle of the night and needed you! An emergency! You are technically an adult. It’s not that strange! Why would they call your parents?! And you’re plenty old enough to find your way around Paris by yourself!”
He laughed once again, and that’s when she realized the flaw in her plan: he may have more freedom than he had when he was fourteen, but not that much. He had a driver, and a bodyguard. He was a minor celebrity. He just wasn't a normal kid, despite Nino’s and the rest of their friends’ efforts.
“I appreciate what you’re doing, MiLady, but I have to do this,” he put his hands on her shoulders, then seemed to think better of it.
“Claws out,” he called, and a (newly ranting and raving) flood of green light wrapped his body in his super suit.
Once again, Chat Noir stood before her. It struck her how it felt like the superhero had sat next to her all night, and how he didn’t feel like her civilian friend. He may not have had the ears and mask, but he had still talked and moved like her partner—not like the model. She had forgotten for a moment.
He pulled out his baton.
“Wait,” she called out, “Are you sure you can do this? Are you sure you’re gonna be OK?”
“I’ll be fine.” Like the flip of a switch, he was smiling widely and light on his feet. “Haven’t gotten akumatized yet! It’s gonna take a lot more to catch this cat!” he jerked a thumb in his direction.
His smile and confidence and carefree attitude looked so real.
How often had he faked a good mood over the years? She never saw through it. Not once.
“Now I shall bid you adieu with a warm farewell,” he bowed deeply, swinging his free hand out for dramatic effect. “Thank you for meeting me, MiLady. As always, it’s been lovely to see you.”
He went over to the ledge and extended his baton down, getting ready to jump. He turned back and his sunny shield dropped just a little, “I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”
She nodded. “Good. I’ll keep an eye out.”
He nodded too, and she could glimpse his gratefulness and gratitude, his fear and nerves, his insecurity and lack of surety, his crumbled worldview and lack of safety net—then it was gone. His face was full of lighthearted mirth.
“Catch later, Ladybug!”
She watched him go, it settling on her shoulders how much she has underestimated her partner’s bravery.