Chapter Text
Ridiculous utterly ridiculous. Why were people so petty, what was wrong with everyone. Holding a seven year old grudge against her like little school girls. It's not like she was the only one getting akumatized. More than half of Paris had been akumatized back when she still lived here, sometimes twice a day.
She had come back to Paris a week ago to enroll in the culinary courses that were being held by some of the world's greatest chefs. Chefs from all over the world had gathered to conduct preliminary competitions to find apprentices. Despite her mother's efforts, she had managed to attend a culinary school in the states and graduated with high marks. Of course none of that mattered once she answered one question. Name?
With no backup plan she headed home, fuming and cursing with every step closer to the Bourgeois hotel.
—
"No luck?" Asked Zoé from her seat at the desk as Chloé stomped into her room and threw herself on the other girl's bed. She let out a muffled scream into a pillow.
"It's rediculous! These grumpy assholes wouldn't even look at me…" she rolled over on her back and looked up at the ceiling with a frown. "As soon as they saw my last name they dismissed me. One even threatened to call the police!"
"Sounds about right."
Chloé couldn't understand how the girl at the desk was so calm about this, unjustefied discrimination. Pure ridiculousness. This whole situation almost made her forget who the grumpy assholes of the topic were.
"Ughhh, but even though they got sticks up their ass, they're still the best chefs in the world." She looked over and gave her the saddest pout she could muster. Zoé got up from her chair and joined her on the bed. She sat at the edge where Chloé 's legs hung off and threw herself back onto the bed to mimic her sister's position.
"I warned you. Probably would've had more chances back in America" said Zoé as she petted the older girl's head. "Should've stayed with mother."
At that comment Chloé turned her head away from her younger half sister. Facial expressions not amused. Her..stay with that witch? Ridiculous, she wouldn't even spend a day with her for all the name brand clothing in the world. She was already pissed about the seven years she'd spent with her and would never get back.
"To tell you the truth little sister, a big reason I left was to get away from maman. That woman has ways of making your life hell that you didn't even know were possible." Nevermind, she DID know, her sister had lived with their mother for thirteen years before trading places with Chloé .
"Why do you think I left?" The sisters shared a quiet moment of silent agreement before the door to the room suddenly burst open. Their father now stood in the center of the room like a child who'd just learned a new trick and needed to show it.
"Hello my beautiful daughters!"
"Hy pops!"
"Daddy."
They both greeted him as they sat up.
"Guess who finally convinced the theater across the street to show their film? I hear it's a very smart and talented directoooor." He sang as he draped an old raggedy directors hat on top of his balding head.
"Who?!" Zoé played along.
"Oh the suspense is killing me." Chloé said sarcastically.
"Me! This is it girls I can feel it!" He said as he opened his arms for the hug he knew one of the girls would offer.
"No way! They finally agreed? I'm happy for you pops." congratulated Zoé as she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight.
"Merci ma belle." He returned the hug.
"I wouldn't even get excited if I was you daddy, they'll take one look at you and change their minds."
"Chloé !" Scolded the younger girl. Although the comment was harsh, her father didn't show a single divot in his joy. He untangled himself from his youngest girl's arms and walked toward his oldest. He took in the crestfallen look on his angel's face, the kind he too often saw in his own reflection. His heart clenched when he saw shimmers at the corners of her eyes.
"Chloé ? My angel." He called to her as he placed a hand on her face. "I'm aware of my last name" he wiped a premature tear with his thumb. "and I know the backlash that comes with it. But that doesn't mean I won't try. You have to try no matter how many times your hard work gets thrown at you in disgust. You have to pick your head up and move on."
"Sorry." She apologized. She got up from the bed and straightened out her outfit before turning back to her father. "You'll do great, you deserve it." She leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek.
She excused herself and made her way down the hall to her old bedroom. Once inside she cried.
When she was little she always imagined she'd grow and have a happy life. That her father would skip political meetings, her mom ditch work and play with her. She thought growing up she'd have hundreds of friends. Have a place she loved and belonged in.
Her mother was a controlling power hungry maniac. Her father, once a man who apologized and bought her forgiveness with gifts was now a loving family man, thanks to her sister. All she was good for was soiling the family name, corrupting gentle people and harming others self esteem. It was her own doing that left her so lost in life. She deserved all of this.
She put on a thin sweater and headed out of the hotel. She had been cooped up all week, too lazy to re-explore the city. coming back to your homeland and the place you grew up in should make you feel complete right? But for Chloé it was the opposite. All she had here were memories that brought a sour taste to her mouth. Besides having a lonely childhood her adolescent years weren't any better.
As she walked around the city she replayed memories. The many times she got innocent civilians akumatized with her comments, the times she made her classmates cry, and the times she herself got akumatized. Boy was she a piece of shit. Just like her mother.
She cringed. If only she could go back in time and slap some sense into herself.
She made her way around the block enjoying the cool September weather when she saw a statue. Ladybug and Chat noir. The heroes of Paris. To her understanding it had been years since the heroes had made an appearance. Had it really been that long already?
Felt like not nearly enough time had passed since she saw the news.
~~four years ago~~
Her mom had come home screaming at the person on the other side of the phone. She had signaled to Chloé to turn on the TV while she opened her laptop on the kitchen counter.
"And we return to the biggest news of the decade! Today Paris finally finds peace. The villan named Hawk Moth is finally defeated." She couldn't help feeling joy.. excitement… she couldn't look away. They'd done it, they finally defeated that monster! Now why was her mom so mad and hostile, it couldn't possibly be related to the news she was hearing could it?
"The man behind the mask was no other then famous fashion designer Gabriel Agrest" Chloé's body whent cold "we are now live with french reporter Nadja …"
She couldn't believe what she saw on screen. As a helicopter flew above the mansion all she could see was her old childhood friends home burned down to ruble, a once tall landmark to her childhood now lay in dust and ash. She cupped her mouth and hugged her knees, tears began forming in her eyes. But she couldn't look away, she kept listening because she wanted to hear one thing and one thing only…where was Adrian?
"Although peace has now arrived to Paris, the rest of the world now wonders if this evil is gone or if it's just been inherited down. Authorities are now questioning if Hawkmoth had help from others like his mentor Audrey Bourgeois or her husband the mayor Andre Bourgeois."
Of course that's why she was mad, she wasn't even reacting to the fact her childhood friend was a villain, or that her husband was under political attack, no she was just worried about herself. Like always. With everyday that pased she felt more and more hate for that woman.
Chloé remembered staying up that night staring at the television, switching through channels, looking for one thing and one thing only. That her adrikins lived.
~present~
Lost in her memories she hadn't noticed her legs had carried her to the Agrest's mansion, or what was left of it. She stood outside the gate and looked up on the leveled foundation. The area no more then a scar on the city.
All you ever did was make him frown, never once did I see him happy to come back to you. "Good riddance." She said out loud, to who? She didn't know really but she knew her anger was justified.
"Chloé ?" Said a soft female voice behind her. She hadn't even noticed anyone approaching. "Chloé Bourgeois?" Chloé's shoulders stiffened, dammit it was someone who recognized her.
"Oh my ..that is you! You've grown so much!" The voice behind her caried absolutely no malece. She braved it and turned around only to be greeted by her old teacher.
They decided to walk together and talk, in Chloé's case more like dragged along. Chloé didn't particularly hate her old school teacher, she just didn't know how to react to her personality. She knew how to respond to snide comments and bad press, but this? Smiles and hugs? She definitely wasn't used too... but the happy greeting was a nice change to all the death stares she'd been getting lately.
They walked further down until reaching a bench on the side of a cafe. gently sat down and put a had on Chloé's, signaling for her to take a seat too. Chloé looked down at her teacher, she hadn't changed much, really like nothing at all.
Ms. Bustier, worried about her former student's lack of response, looked up at her, noticed her vision was set right on her protruding belly and laughed. "Have you never seen a pregnant woman Ms. Bourgeois? Common sit, promise it's not contagious."
"Obviously I know it's not contagious," She looked away and focused on a lamppost across the street. "It's just weird …I mean there's a naked kid I there kicking and swiming in juice, it's just…"
"Magical? Why yes Chloé it is." Chloé flinched. From the corner of her eyes looked over at her teacher, fear of having Insulted her making her stomach cramp. But instead she saw her smiling, hand on her stomach and a big smile she imagined was only meant for mothers.
"How have you been Chloé?" Ms. Bustier asked, turning her body slightly and focusing on Chloé.
Horribly bad, furious, insulted. Failing at life. Was that what she wanted to hear? Of course not "Nothing to brag about."
"How old are you now? Did you go to college? You were always such a bright student." She happily babbled on.
"The years must be getting to you, I'm not sure we attended the same class. I recall Sabrina doing most of my projects and homework." It was true, back then she would order and boss around many of her classmates. Sabrina was always tasked with her homeworks and school projects.
"Yes, but they were always good marks. On the days you were absent Sabrina would have lower marks. Now at first I thought it was because she was distracted from your absence but then I realized, you were making her redo homeworks because you knew the answers were incorrect. And when I would ask questions I would see you shaking your head No when someone would answer incorrectly."
The words were meant to make her feel a certain way, maeby give her some sense of worth, but she just couldn't relate to the person her teacher was describing. She wasn't smart, she just had common sense. Even after lecture was given that same day, some classmates would still give the incorrect answers, it was beyond her how little their brains recalled.
One after another, Ms. Bustier asked her questions. Most were answered with a yes, no or a shrug of shoulders. Was New York fun? Did you meet celebrities? You're so tall! How's your dad doing? Did you graduate school? What are you doing now?
At that last one she figured she'd answer, this poor woman was going out of her way to be nice the least she could do is answer a question. "I'm...I'm trying to find a place to study cooking."
"Oh wow! That's amazing Chloé!"
"Billions of people can cook, it's hardly anything to brag about. But I am way better than most of the human race."
With her teacher's attention still on her she continued. The woman was pleasant to talk to, and she did used to think fondly of her when she attended school. "I actually came to Paris to participate in a cooking competition, but I was very rudely dismissed." Damn idiots don't know what they're letting get away. She knew her food was amazing and no wrinkly old man would tell her otherwise. She could see a frown forming on her teacher's face, and before she could start asking more questions or start the pity speech she straightened her posture, got up and crossed her arms.
"Well Ms. Bustier, it was good to see you but I need to continue my day."
"Oh yes of course. It was really nice seeing you Chloé"
After their goodbyes Chloé was tired of human interaction and decided to make her way home. To her luck Ms. Bustier was walking that same way. Chloé turned around and walked in the opposite way further down the road. She would take the long way back and walk around the block.
As she kept walking forward she saw the little bakery tucked in the corner. She definitely remembered the resident of that particular building.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Chloé's little rival during her days in school. She had never told anyone, other then her Adrikins that she actually had a crush on the baker girl. She would always amuse Chloé's petty fights, and between the looks and bickering ….she was not afraid of Chloé. Never the one to back down, always so fierce to protect her friends. She was smart, knew how to give orders, stubborn and brave.
She walked past the bakery a little slower, making sure to only look inside the windows through the corners of her eyes. Part of her wishing to catch a glimpse of two flour covered ponytails. But she didn't, good thing to because what would she have said? Still a little glimpse of the smiling idiot would have been nice. She accepted her luck and went to turn around when she saw a flier.
Baking classes
Thursdays 4pm
A small familiar tickle on her chest flared at the pink flier. The idea of learning something new, of trying and trying until mastering a technique. She had decided. And this time she wouldn't take no for an answer. She fixed her hair and marched into the bakery.
"For kids only. In big letters, big hard to miss letters." informed Zoé as she read over the flier. "They're trying to promote their business, not train a rival baker, Chloé."
" I know, I was there, I'm the one who got the flier?" said Chloé while leaning on a bed post.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng are super nice, maybe you can find a way to convince them." Encouraged Zoé as she held the flier out.
Back then all she would have had to do was ask her daddy, The Mayor, and they would've been begging to give her classes. "Ugh! I just remembered, the baker man held a demonstration for our class back in school a long time ago. And on that day I accused Marinette of stealing my bracelet!" She ripped the flier out of Zoé's hands and shredded it into confetti."Forget it, I'd be lucky if he doesn't chop me up and stuff me in a croissant."
She threw herself dramatically onto her bed like only a true diva would. Threw an arm over her eyes and laid there without a word. Zoé could see her constantly blinking under her arm, could see how she was holding back a tantrum, and knew her eyes were probably watery under her forearm.
"Want me to ask Mari?"
Chloé shook her head no.
The younger sister got up from her desk and knelt down by the bed, reached a hand out and placed it on Chloé's hair. "Chloé?" No response, just the vibrations from a shaky breathing could be felt through the bed.
" Sorry, I don't know how to comfort much." Zoé began to pet Chloé's hair. "I mean with Luka we just sorta play music and pour our hearts into it. I don't know how to help you. I've gotten used to the way things are and so has pops. Maybe take a trip, sure you won't be cooking with world class chefs but maybe you can pick up new skills?"
After a minute in silence and a deep breath Chloé answered. "Is it weird that part of me wants to make something of myself here?" She removed her forearm from her wet eyes and stared at the ceiling. "But everywhere I go all I see and hear is my mistakes. I don't even know why I did half of the stuff I did. I mean sure a therapist has told me WHY, but that doesn't change the fact "I" did it. I just want to be me, But ME is not a good person."
Zoé doesn't answer, instead just keeps stroking her sister's hair, encouraging her to continue.
"Sure I could've stayed with maman. But everyday was a reminder that I was wasting my life. She was sucking the life out of me. After I took one of her threats to kick me out as an exit and left on my own she made sure nobody in the fashion industry would hire me. And after I began looking into culinary school she said on live TV how she hoped my days of sabotaging cooking competitions was over. Like how can I even make a life for myself if she won't let me."
"We're a part of her Chloé, everything we do reflects on the honorary name Audrey The Fashion Queen, more like fashion bitch…" Both girls laugh a little.
What Zoé said wasn't an exaggeration. The only reason she was laying in a room alive was because her mother wanted to gain some press by announcing a pregnancy. While pregnant with Chloé, she had taken inspiration to start a maternity line, Which wasn't yet finished by the time she gave birth, so with the help of her assistant at the moment went on to produce Zoé.
Chloé hated every ounce of blood and every strand of DNA that she shared with her mother. And what once gave her pride now only gave her pain. She hated that she was just like her mother, "spitting image" a magazine once had started, "Sucking the beauty out of the style queen". After that Audrey had dictated her wardrobe so that never at any moment would she outshine her.
She was tired, tired of who she was, who the world thought she was. She wanted a home, a place she could miss, could come to and feel relief, happiness, and feel welcomed. Whether she wanted or not She vowed to make Paris her home, not because it was her birthplace but because it was the place where she decided she would be herself. And Chloé was stubborn.
The next day Chloé returned to the bakery, ready to ball her pride up and choke on it, all for the sake of a scratch at happiness.