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Laughter and music from the party the mayor was hosting in their honor bubbled out onto the balcony, but it couldn’t lift Ladybug’s somber mood. Chat Noir had asked her to step outside for a reason. She knew what it was even before he spoke.
“I can’t do it anymore, Bug.”
Chat Noir ran a hand through his close-cropped blond hair. He’d shaved his head the week of Gabriel Agreste’s arrest for his role in Paris’s five years of terror. Ladybug knew it was related. Since their bloody, difficult victory, he hadn’t been himself. There was a new sadness behind his eyes. He was slipping away from her.
“O-okay.” Ladybug took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. She was fine. She was okay.
The little plate of macarons she’d picked up at the buffet before the evening’s abrupt turn suddenly seemed to weigh her down.
“You should keep your ring,” said Ladybug at last. “In case—in case.”
Chat Noir shook his head. “I can’t. You deserve a partner who can be one hundred percent with you. That isn’t me anymore.” He hesitated. “I have a successor in mind, if it’s up to me.”
Ladybug scrambled for something, anything that could keep him with her for even a moment longer. “Deal,” she said. “You can retire with my blessing and pass the ring to a new holder. But I have something to give you before you go. A failsafe. Meet me at the usual place tomorrow night?”
“Deal,” Chat Noir repeated. His eyes were still tired, but he seemed relieved.
Ladybug’s heart ached as she watched him cross the ballroom, saying his goodbyes for what the Parisian “it” crowd couldn’t know would be the final time. She kept the tears at bay until she was alone. Then, locked in a hotel bathroom, Ladybug hunched over her little plate of macarons and sobbed until her throat was raw.
“You’re listening to Blast From The Past, bringing you the all-time greats of pop rock!”
Marinette raised her eyebrows as the next song played on the radio. “Since when is Clara Nightingale’s debut album ‘classic’? It’s just—” She paused to do a quick internet search. “—twenty-five years old.” Marinette made a face at her new assistant, a fresh university graduate named something like Paulo, Pascal, or Pietro. “Okay. Maybe I’m a classic.”
Paulo, Pascal, or Pietro laughed. “That’s why I wanted to work with you! You’re the best in the biz. Everyone who’s anyone in the fashion world knows you, and you know everyone.”
Marinette grinned. “I sure do. And if you get that materials shipment in on time, I might even tell you some of the things I know.”
The tips of Paulo, Pascal, or Pietro’s ears reddened. “I’ll get right on that,” he said, scurrying off.
Marinette watched him go. “That one’s a keeper,” she said to herself, making a mental note to find out what the kid’s actual name was.
Clara Nightingale's song stopped abruptly, replaced by a moment of dead air. Marinette stiffened.
“This is a breaking news alert,” said an announcer’s voice. “A supervillain of unknown origin appears to be attacking the Montparnasse tower. Scarabella and Blackout have been sighted in the area, but pedestrians should be cautious until our heroes issue an official all-clear.”
Marinette rolled her eyes as the music resumed. “Why do they always go for that eyesore?” she wondered aloud, returning to her work.
Sometimes she missed being Ladybug, but on days like today when the sky was blue, her favorite songs were playing, and she was full of design inspiration, it was nice to leave the heroics to other people. Between being the Guardian and running her business, she had enough on her plate as it was.
Her head snapped up as the radio emitted a burst of static.
“This is a breaking news alert. Scarabella and Blackout have been captured, and their status is unknown. Mama Macaron has yet to release a list of demands. The following arrondissements are under severe supervillain activity watch until further notice…”
“Right,” Marinette said to herself.
She watched her hands save her designs, log out, and tuck her jacket and purse under her desk. It was as if she were floating above her body. Distantly, she wondered whether this was a panic attack. It didn’t matter. Alya and Blackout were in danger, and that meant it was time to come out of retirement.
Marinette reached for the pendant around her neck, feeling grateful for the paranoia that had inspired her to wear it to work every day for decades. “Mullo, get squeaky!” she cried.
Her transformation washed over her, and Marinette closed her eyes. It had been so long. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be so powerful, so capable.
As Multimouse leapt out the window and bounded away across the rooftops, she spared a second to wonder if the one person who knew Multimouse’s secret identity was watching the news. Had Chat Noir held on to her gift? Would he come out of hiding, after all these years?
Multimouse shook herself. She was the only thing standing between Alya and Blackout and total oblivion. She couldn’t afford to get lost in the past.
She alighted on a roof with an advantageous view of the tower where Mama Macaron was holding her friends. A faint tremor shot through her as she realized where she was. Marinette avoided this part of the city when she could. It brought back too many memories.
This spot had once been her rendezvous point with Chat Noir. It was where they had said goodbye.
“I won’t use it.” Chat Noir pushed the box back into Ladybug’s hands.
“I don’t care.” Ladybug stood her ground. “It’s my condition. If you move out of the city or something, find me and give it back before you go. I’ll feel better knowing you have something to protect yourself with. You’ve always been a magnet for trouble, Chaton.”
Chat Noir’s smile was sad. “I have. And I’ve never been able to say no to you, Bugaboo.” He tucked the box into his pocket. Then, to Ladybug’s surprise, he hugged her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “If I could explain, I would. I never stopped loving you, Ladybug. Maybe I never will.”
“Chat Noir!” Ladybug screamed into the night. “Wait!”
She wasn’t ready to lose him. Her heart couldn’t take it. But it didn’t matter what Ladybug wanted. Chat Noir was already gone.
Someone landed behind Multimouse. Their feet were light, but not light enough to fool a former superhero who was paranoid enough to keep up her martial arts training.
Multimouse whirled around, holding her jump rope at the ready. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
The new arrival was a snake miraculous holder. His fluffy pink hair clashed hideously with his teal mask, but the eyes behind the mask were a shade of green that Multimouse would have recognized anywhere.
“Chat Noir,” she breathed. “You came back.”
Chat Noir set his chin. “It’s Aspik now. I lost the right to call myself Chat Noir a long time ago.” He looked Multimouse up and down. “And you are?”
Right. Aspik wasn’t the only one changed by their decades of separation. “Multimouse,” said Multimouse firmly. She held his gaze in hers.
Their years apart had taken so much, but those eyes were the same. How had she never seen it before? Her dear friend Adrien and her lost love Chat Noir were one and the same. In hindsight, it made perfect sense.
Multimouse—Ladybug—made a choice. “I’m Multimouse,” she said. “A long time ago, before I lost someone very important and decided to retire, I was Ladybug.”
“Marinette.” Aspik’s whisper cut deep into a long-forgotten wound in Multimouse’s heart. “All this time?”
“I know.” Only her knowledge of the task at hand kept Multimouse’s tears at bay.
“I’m sorry,” said Aspik. “I was scared. I was stupid.”
“And now you’re here,” said Multimouse. “We can talk about the rest later.”
“I had to come back,” said Aspik. He looked up at the tower. “That’s Nino in there.”
Marinette pictured Blackout, who emailed her music memes almost every morning and worshipped the ground Scarabella walked on. She had no trouble believing it. “Alya, too.”
“Of course,” said Aspik. He put an arm around Multimouse’s shoulders. All the wasted years between them seemed to fall away. “We’ll get them back, Bug.”
Multimouse looked up at him, and three suns rose in her heart. “We will,” she agreed. “And then you’re coming out to dinner with me.”
Aspik gave her a burning look. “Deal,” he said. “I have a lot to tell you. First things first. What’s the plan?”
Multimouse scanned the building. Her old Ladybug instincts were kicking in. “We’ll take the service entrance,” she said. “Reset and report back to me if anything goes wrong, no matter how small.”
Aspik nodded. “Ready, Bug?”
“Ready, Chaton.”
“Second chance!”