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Chapter Text

Never had a single room so vividly reflected Adrien’s mental state. Every square metre the estate agent had rabbited on about when they’d bought the apartment fifteen years ago had been devoured by toys.

Lego littered the living room floor. It was like the twins were allergic to follow-through, getting halfway through one project before deciding it was too hard and starting another. And another. And another.

Wading through the mess, he stepped over half a castle, half a pirate ship, half a Death Star. There was half an Eiffel Tower, too, bringing back bittersweet memories of his days of Cat Noir – so distant now that they seemed to belong to another person in some other reality.

But no. It was his father who’d gone to another reality. Adrien had chosen to remain in this one. And live in servitude to a pair of six-year-olds, apparently.

Bored of Lego, the twins had hauled out yet more toys. These were strewn amongst the half-hearted efforts at town planning. And there were the books Adrien had read them at bedtime, scattered on the sofa, making acquaintance with his own books – research for his master’s in children’s therapy. As if the storybooks, with their occasional black and white illustrations, were part of the study.

Maybe he was the child in need of therapy.

With that thought, the energy flew out of him, like air from a popped balloon. He collapsed onto his knees, a lone ship adrift in a sea of toys. Just looking at the mess made his heart pound with a special kind of anxiety. The kind that had sent him fleeing to his room the moment he’d put the twins to bed a few hours ago.

Why had he come out here again? Why hadn’t it all just disappeared since he’d last looked?

He frowned hard. Maybe he just…wouldn’t clean it. After all, there’d only be another mess tomorrow. Maybe he could just leave it until the twins grew out of these toys and agreed to give them to charity.

Except….

Whenever Marinette decided to come home tomorrow, she’d wonder what he’d done all weekend – why he couldn’t just put away some toys, while she was out working. For god’s sake, he didn’t even have a bakery shift today. She –

She’ll be disappointed.

He hugged himself against a sudden chill.

No, he – he could do this. Once upon a time, he’d been a Parisian hero, for god’s sake. He could definitely clean up some toys.

But where did he start?

Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. Just PUT IT AWAY.

Drawing in a breath for strength, he began flinging Lego into buckets, without a thought to organising it. Yes, he was only perpetuating the mess in the long run. Tomorrow, the twins would have to dump everything on the floor again to search for the pieces. But that was a problem for another day.

He sniggered softly. ‘Sucks to be you, Future Adrien.’

A low click made him go still, his hand frozen around a plastic tire. Someone was opening the front door, just beyond the living room. Someone who didn’t want him to hear. The sound was so quiet, he might have missed it if he’d been tucked up in bed – like he should’ve been at this hour.

Yeah, right. As if he could relax, wondering where his fourteen-year-old was.

Footsteps tapped across the building entranceway, drawing closer to the living room door. On the floor, Adrien held his breath, every nerve on high alert. He sent out a silent prayer to whatever kwami or god might be listening.

Please don’t let this turn into a fight.

He waited.

And waited.

There was the unmistakeable sound of a key being inserted. Then the handle turned, and the door opened. Hugo entered the living room, freezing when his eyes locked on Adrien’s.

For a moment, anything was possible. Hugo might babble out an excuse – an explanation – something that made sense, for a change. And they would talk. They would come to an understanding, then head into the kitchen and – and make tea together. Give it an hour and they’d be laughing together like friends.

Then the moment shifted, the painfully familiar defiance filling Hugo’s face as he stared down at Adrien – daring him to comment on how late it was. To remind him about curfews and the importance of calling if he was going to be late, and generally remembering other people existed in the world who might be inconvenienced, let alone deeply hurt, by his actions.

Adrien stared back – like a cat, caught in a battle for domination. Jesus, he was even on his knees on the floor. Maybe Hugo could get him a bowl of milk while he was at it.

In many ways, looking at Hugo was like looking at an old photograph of himself. Although all the children had ended up with dark hair, Hugo had Adrien’s heart-shaped face. He had the same angelic rosy round cheeks Adrien had at that age, too. And, like the twins, his eyes were a glittering green.

If only they had more in common than genetics.

Hating himself for looking away first, Adrien resumed tossing the toys into buckets, focusing on the shapes and bright colours. ‘I don’t suppose I need to point out that it’s almost midnight – four hours after you were meant to be home.’

‘Then why are you?’ Hugo asked in that insolent way he’d developed over the last year. The one that reminded Adrien of a time when Nino had declared that adults ruined everything – shortly before he’d transformed into the Bubbler and sent all the adults up into the sky, destined for the vacuum of space.

Vacuuming. Shit. I knew there was something Marinette asked me to do before she got home.

He stared forlornly at the remaining toys, fantasising about taking a vacuum to them, too. It would certainly make the task go faster. No more problems for Future Adrien, either.

Of course, the twins might not be happy….

He turned to the sofa and began stacking up storybooks. ‘Why are you home late?’

Inwardly, he winced at his own wording. All the parenting courses said you should avoid ‘challenge’ words like ‘why’. You were supposed to say something like, ‘What do you think were the factors that led to you being home late?’

As if that would make any difference.

When Hugo didn’t reply, Adrien glanced at him, his irritation rising. ‘Well?’

Hugo shrugged. ‘I just lost track of time.’ He leaned against the doorframe, his arms still crossed over his chest. His own challenge. A message: What are you going to do about it?

The answer was: Not much.

Adrien returned to stacking the books.

In their way, children were like dogs. They could smell parental fear. The only weapon Adrien had left in his father arsenal was the mask of calm he moulded over his face while he cleaned.

Sometimes it was impossible to believe there had ever been a time when Hugo was little. In those days, Adrien had a countdown system. ‘I’m going to count down from five, and if you haven’t done what I told you to do by the time I get to zero, there will be a punishment.’ He’d only had to call out, ‘Five!’ and Hugo would squeal and hop about in panic, scurrying to do whatever he’d been told to do, terrified of the fateful ‘zero’.

In fact, Adrien never had a plan for if he hit zero. So much of parenting was bluffing on the fly. When your child finally called you out on that bluff, all you were left with was a private identity complex, eventually acknowledging that you had no idea what you were doing, and it was a wonder that anyone had seen fit to allow you to spawn much less raise children.

Hugo had called that bluff at age seven, forcing Adrien to think up actual punishments. The punishments had soon lost their sting, and he’d had to think up worse punishments. And rewards. Bribes, even.

Now, they were caught in a dance where Adrien could not think of a single punishment or reward that would make the slightest impact. Hugo already had every video game he wanted. And he didn’t seem interested in much else. They could take away his laptop…but he’d only go to that boy Paul’s apartment and play there. The truth was….

I have nothing.

And he knows it.

Putting the books in a bucket, he turned his attention to a spray of coloured pencils. What in god’s name had possessed him to buy the twins a pack of a hundred of these things?

 He cleared his throat. ‘You could have at least called,’ he said. As he’d said the night before. And before that. And….

‘Yes. I could have.’

Adrien clamped his lips shut. Took some deep breaths. Wondered if he was an awful father for wanting to throw the half-built Death Star at his son. ‘So, where were you?’

‘Out.’

‘Who were you with?’

‘People.’

‘Do you have any homework?’

‘Does it matter?’

Again, Adrien held his tongue before he could say anything he might regret – then tossed the last of the Lego in the bucket. There were still things on the floor, but this was a definite improvement. Somewhere between the sofa and the floor, he’d stopped caring what Marinette would think. She wasn’t here to deal with…all of this. She never was, anymore.

He pushed his hands into the floor and raised himself to his feet, meeting his son’s hard emerald eyes. ‘You know we don’t set these rules for fun, Hugo. You’re tall and super mature and all, but you’re still only fourteen. It can be dangerous out there, at night. If I don’t know where you are, I worry. Okay? It’s not like I get my kicks out of looking for reasons to lay into you.’

That was my father.

Again, a shrug. God, the shrugging!

‘Are you taking in a word I’m saying?’ Adrien asked.

‘Not really. I mean, it’s just the same boring speech you always make, isn’t it?’

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I find it boring, too?’

‘Then stop saying it.’

Stop – ‘Why don’t you just do what I say, so I don’t have to make the speech?’

Hugo smirked and shook his head. His dark, curling locks dusted his forehead. ‘Whatever. I’m going to my room now. Have fun cleaning.’ Without a second look, he stepped over the remaining toys and stalked down the hall that led to the bedrooms.

Adrien stared after his son, imagining shouting after him. Maybe something like, Hugo Julien Agreste, you get back here this instant!

Then…then Hugo would halt halfway down the hall. For an agonising moment, he wouldn’t move. Then he’d slowly turn around, head-first, like an owl. His mouth and eyes would be round with shock. Did you just…?

And Adrien would clench his fists, his chin up and his gaze unwavering. I did. Now you listen to me, young man. You –

No, no, no. Young man? Honestly, what century was this?

He scratched his temple, re-thinking the scene.

Okay, so. Hugo would stare at him, waiting for a reply. And he would say something like….

You’re going to listen to me, Hugo. Really listen to me. Do you have any idea what I do all day? The school runs – helping your grandparents in the bakery on weekdays – studying for my master’s – watching the twins after school – cooking everyone dinner – driving you places – cleaning. Would it kill you to pick up the fucking phone and make a fucking phone call, so I don’t think you’re FUCKING DEAD?

He jolted, his eyes widening at his own fantasy. His heart was thundering, and he was – he was shaking. Did – did he really harbour that much anger at his own son?

No. Not at him. At….

His blood cooled, and he shook the rest of that sentence out of his head. Thinking about that wouldn’t help anything.

With the Lego all packed up, he carried the buckets to the tall cupboard they’d come from. Then he closed the doors, leaning against them and pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket – as if it might show him a different time.

The twins would be awake by seven. It didn’t matter that tomorrow was a Sunday. Parents didn’t get to lie in. The most he could hope for was seven hours’ sleep – and it was sure to be less.

Stepping away from the cupboard, he stared down the hallway, imagining his room. Imagining sliding into that big bed built for two, the other side cold from Marinette’s absence. Most nights, she’d return late from work and creep in, careful not to disturb him. And in the morning, he would creep out, the two of them living in different time zones within the same apartment.

Tonight, she wouldn’t be back at all.

He chewed the inside of his lip, thinking of her fancy colleagues with their fancy clothes and fancy hair. Members of a world Adrien had left behind when he’d quit modelling. A world where Marinette went on business trips and stayed in swank hotels without him. Where anything could happen and he wouldn’t even know about it, because he –

STOP.

She wouldn’t do that to me.

Regardless, the thought of sleeping alone one more time made him feel like throwing up.

Maybe he could sleep on the sofa tonight.

But the twins would ask why. And Hugo was old enough to figure it out. They’d all know something was wrong.

Sighing, he glanced at his right hand – at his amok, taking the place of another ring he’d once worn. Then at his left hand, where a new ring had been placed the day he’d married Marinette. And back at his amok.

He hadn’t been Cat Noir in a long time. As far as most of the world was aware, he had never been Cat Noir. That secret lay with only a handful of friends who had been with them in what he now thought of as the Last Battle, like the title of that old C.S. Lewis novel.

Yet here he was, plain old Adrien Agreste, and he was still juggling identities.

By day, he was the happily married man and doting father, who’d got everything he’d ever dreamed of. The love of his life. Beautiful healthy children. A father-in-law who’d taken him in like his own son, treating him the way Gabriel never had. A mother-in-law to fill that hollow space carved out by Emilie’s death. Escape from the world of modelling. The freedom simply to exist – to take his time working out his own career plans, and the inherited money to pursue them. Not to mention, great friends.

But by night….

Maybe there was some of that sleepy time tea left in the kitchen. Something to knock him out so he couldn’t think anymore.

He headed for the kitchen, digging through the cupboards until he found the box. One bag left. Fate. Then he stared dully at the kettle as it boiled, running through the motions without noticing what he was doing.

His old Chinese tutor would have tutted at him and given him a disapproving look – paired with some lecture about how teamaking was a long-cherished mindfulness exercise. As would the whole Order of the Guardians, for that matter.

He sat at the dining table at the other end of the open-plan kitchen. The cup was warm in his hands. Almost a hug. Maybe Marinette had wrapped up her work for the night and was now winding down with her own cup of tea. Maybe they were both sitting at a table, with their hands around cups, thinking of each other.

Adrien smiled down at the water. At his vague reflection. At a man he didn’t recognise.

He thought of the boy he’d once been, his life crammed full of obligations he couldn’t break. A boy who’d grown up to acquire yet more obligations he couldn’t break. A boy who’d never truly broken free.

His fingers touched his throat – the place where he’d once worn a collar and a golden bell. Then he dropped his hand again. Picked up his cup and drank the tea, thinking of how many things in life could be a kind of collar and bell.

Maybe I should talk to my therapist.

Not his idea but a requirement of his course, to ensure all students knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of therapy.

The problem was, he couldn’t be honest with the therapist. Couldn’t tell her about his days as a superhero. Or about his mother cryogenically frozen in the basement. Or that his father – finally exposed as Monarch – hadn’t really died, no matter what story they’d told the news. And he certainly couldn’t tell her he was a sentimonster. He could just imagine how that would play out.

‘That all sounds like some kind of paranoid delusion, Adrien.’

‘It does, doesn’t it. But I can assure you it’s all true. I saw it when I stood in the time burrow.’

‘…the what?’

‘The time burrow. You know. A kind of place outside time and space, where I could witness everything that’s ever happened or will happen in any reality. That’s where I met my shadow.’

‘…your what?’

‘You know. My shadow! Carl Jung’s idea of the archetype for everything we don’t want to see in ourselves? We’re both into psychology, here. You must know what I’m talking about.’

‘I do, but…. You’re saying you had an experience with some kind of symbol for this?’

‘No. I literally met my shadow. His name is Cat Blanc. It was touch and go for a while, but we hugged it out.’

He let out a bitter laugh, his gaze finding his amok again. The twin to the ring Felix wore. His lifeline.

Then he downed the last of his tea and unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, idly fantasising about hiring a cleaner. But there was just no way. Not after how hard he’d worked to do these things for himself, now. And he would not raise his children to be pampered and lazy.

Well. Not any more than Hugo already was.

Exiting the kitchen, he crossed through the living room, trying not to look at his books still strewn on the sofa and coffee table. Heading down the hall, he aimed for his bedroom but ended up outside the spare room at the very end. The storage room, which had, in its way, become Marinette’s home office.

There was no rule that he couldn’t go in. He’d paid for the apartment, after all, before Marinette’s career had taken off. And half the stuff in there was his – the last remnants of his former childhood. Still, it felt strange, turning the knob and creeping in like a fox sneaking through a fence. He didn’t bother turning on the light.

Moonlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the desk under the window, opposite the door. Towers of boxes and crates lined one of the side walls, while filing cabinets and shelves lined the other. Inside were Marinette’s designs – prototypes – fabric swatches.

He stepped into the room, drifting towards one of the crates. The one that contained the safety deposit box that had once housed the miracle box. Before they’d made the decision to give all the miraculous back to the Order of the Guardians.

‘There’s no one to fight anymore,’ she’d reasoned, so many years ago. ‘And having all the miraculous in our apartment…. It’s just not safe for Hugo.’

It had made immediate sense. But it had also hurt. Right now, Adrien missed Plagg more than ever. Hopefully he and the other kwamis were enjoying themselves in…Kwami Land? They were probably relieved not to be used anymore. Grateful to have such a long break. Unless they were being put to other work.

They didn’t have cheese in Kwami Land. The thought made him feel sick at heart.

He stepped backward out of the room and closed the door softly. Inching down the hall, he passed Hugo’s room. The lights were still on, shining under the door. No doubt he’d stay up all night – and there was nothing Adrien could do about it, no matter how much he wanted his son on a reasonable routine.

When Adrien woke him tomorrow at ten in the morning, there would be drama – because apparently everyone else’s parents let their kids sleep in until after lunch.

‘Great – go live with them,’ was on the tip of Adrien’s tongue just about every day. The only thing that kept the retort from spilling out of his mouth was fear of the response. Maybe Hugo would take him at his word and leave.

Maybe he hated Adrien as much as Adrien had often hated Gabriel.

Groaning, Adrien ducked into his own bedroom, leaving the lights off. Light would only reveal just how empty it was. The extra space in the bed. He didn’t bother changing his clothes or lifting the duvet, either. He just flopped onto the bed as it was. It was easier that way. Less for him to tidy up the next morning.

Lying on his back, he folded his hands on his stomach and let his eyes fall shut. Imagined Marinette beside him – her warmth filling the gaps between his arms – her hair tickling his chin and cheeks.

His heart throbbed with a longing that couldn’t be filled.

He turned over onto his side, praying for swift unconsciousness.

Growing up in the mansion, he’d always dreamed of being a normal boy with a normal life. But now he knew.

Normal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Chapter Text

After his father’s reported death, Adrien moved in with Nino’s family while they petitioned to become his legal guardians until he reached adulthood. Although he had other family – namely, Felix and his mother Amelie, in London – Adrien’s wish to remain in Paris was taken into consideration, and the petition was approved.

In fact, everything he wanted was given due consideration – because, despite his age, it seemed Adrien was the sole heir of the Agreste fortune. This gave him power, which he first used to have Emilie’s body interred. He then arranged for his father’s lawyer to set Nathalie up in a small apartment outside Paris and pay her an annual stipend, which Marinette insisted was more than fair.

There was then the matter of what to do with the mansion – move back in, or sell up and leave. Part of him wanted to flee, to run from that place and never look back. But he wasn’t ready. The mansion still held too many secrets. There were too many corners he felt compelled to investigate, to understand the people who’d made and raised him.

So, he made what everyone said was a Grand Gesture – capital letters implied every time. He invited the Lahiffes to move into the Agreste mansion with him.

Overnight, the mansion transformed. Now, there were family meals, filling the formerly empty dining room. Instead of sitting in silence, they talked and laughed and teased each other. The Lahiffes even talked with the staff, drawing more conversation out of the Gorilla than Adrien had thought possible.

After dinner, no one expected him to return to his room, to study for hours or practise piano or Mandarin. And having permanently quit modelling, no one sent him to anymore photoshoots. Instead, he got invited to play games or watch TV as a family. If he wasn’t in the mood, he was allowed to do what he liked. For the first time in his life, he was free to roam all that unused space in the mansion, rooms he’d never known existed.

But the most significant change was that he was no longer the only child in the house. Now, he had not just one but two brothers – Nino, and Nino’s little brother Chris.

At the end of the first week, Adrien sat on the living room sofa, watching Nino and Chris play a video game. Listening to their affectionate banter, it hit him.

This was what he’d missed out on.

He already had a brother. A twin, no less. But they hadn’t grown up together. Like something out of a nineteenth century novel, they’d been separated and lied to. Told they were cousins. Raised in different countries with different parents.

There was no way to go back in time and do things differently. Not without using the rabbit miraculous and creating a huge paradox that rendered the whole plan impossible. Or using the Wish and deepening the mess the original Adrien Agreste had made for them all.

This was simply his life. It would always be his life. That included all the time and opportunities that had been stolen from him. Years he would never get back.

He’d held it together so long. But now – now that there was nothing else to do, nothing else to distract him – all the emotion he’d been holding inside swelled in his chest, his throat, his eyes. The pressure made him curl into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. Tears – long overdue – burst from their ducts, streaming down his cheeks.

He made a strained sound, and Nino turned around. ‘Dude. Are you okay?’

Chris was staring, too.

Two hand-delivered brothers, but not the brother who’d been taken from him.

He couldn’t get the words out to respond, to explain what was passing through his head. And maybe he didn’t need to, because Nino was already discarding his game controller. He sat beside Adrien on the sofa and put a hand on his arm, not saying a word. What was there to say?

His friend’s silent affection made the tears fall faster. Adrien’s whole face crumpled, and he buried it in his knees. In the background, the game soundtrack played on loop.

When the tears finally slowed, he lifted his head, blinking at the room. After what he’d just been through, it felt like it should be different somehow. But it remained unchanged. The world went on, uninterested in his personal tragedies.

He rubbed at his eyes, unable to look at Nino and Chris. ‘Thanks,’ he whispered.

‘Anytime, man. Hey, you want a go?’ Nino motioned to the game controller he’d abandoned on the floor.

Adrien nodded, then slid to the floor and retrieved the controller. Because the only choice was to keep moving or to quit moving altogether – and he wasn’t about to go there. No matter how dark the night, tomorrow would always come. Time would pass. One day, he might heal.

Maybe an hour later, Chris had beaten him at least a dozen times. He was in the middle of a victory dance when his mother came in to collect him for bed.

Chris groaned the way only five-year-olds could. ‘I want to keep playing with Adrien!’ His protest was accompanied by foot-stamping and yelling.

Nino put his hands to his ears to block out the noise, but Adrien only smiled. Shrill as Chris was, it was a sound Adrien could listen to as long as he lived.

The sweet sound of being wanted.

In the early days, the only person Adrien saw outside the mansion was Marinette. But after a month, he made a decision.

It was time to return to school.

The Gorilla drove him, like he always had. But this time, Nino joined Adrien in the car. When they stepped out and the car drove away, Nino whistled. ‘Dude, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having my own chauffeur. I can’t believe this is how you’ve lived all these years.’

Adrien gave a small shrug, his heart thundering as he stared up the steps that led to the school entrance doors. They stared back at him, the handles like eyes.

‘Hey.’ Nino’s hand fell on his shoulder. ‘You got this.’

Adrien disagreed. But with Nino’s encouragement, he forced his feet to move, to follow his friend’s steps. Together, they ascended the stairs and pushed into the building.

Inside, students milled in the courtyard, talking before classes started. As soon as Adrien entered, every head pivoted in his direction, and the conversation died a swift death.

Adrien gripped the door handle behind his back. With his modelling history, he was used to people staring at him. But this was different. He could almost read the thought running through everyone’s minds as they gaped at him.

That’s Adrien Agreste – son of Paris’s most notorious terrorist, Gabriel Agreste.

Also known as Hawk Moth. Also known as Shadow Moth. Also known as Monarch.

His chest tightened. Coming back was a terrible idea. Maybe he could just drop out. Resume home schooling. Okay, so Nino’s parents had jobs. But they could always hire someone to teach at the mansion, like Gabriel once did.

The idea was developing into a delicious fantasy of isolation, when a welcome blur of dark hair pushed through the crowd, heading his way. Her familiar scent enveloped him – vanilla and rose.

‘Hey, Kitty,’ Marinette said under her breath as she captured his hand in one of hers.

‘M’lady,’ he returned just as quietly, his muscles softening a little. A handful of friends knew their secrets. Nino. Alya. Rose. Juleka. Zoe. Luka. Felix. But with Marinette, it – it was different.

She stepped closer, leaning her forehead against his and blocking out his view of the room. It was crazy to think there had ever been a time when she was shy, hardly able to string a sentence together in his presence. Now, she gave him this gift of affection while fellow students walked past, watching – whispering.

‘You got this,’ she murmured in a voice just for him – a voice that made those three words mean so much more than they had when Nino said them. ‘It’s you and me against the world, remember?’

‘Aren’t I supposed to say that?’

‘Only when I’m the one breaking down.’

He pushed his hands under her arms, wrapping them around her waist. ‘You think I’m breaking down?’

‘No. But you might, if we don’t kick this right away. Want me to summon a lucky charm?’

He shook his head against hers. ‘You’re my lucky charm.’

‘You’ve always been so cheesy, Kitty.’

‘And you’ve always been too proud to admit how much you love that about me.’

She laughed softly. The sound loosened something in his chest, and he exhaled.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asked. ‘You lead and I follow, right?’

‘Uh-uh. Never again, Kitty. We’re partners. Equal partners. I’m never shutting you out or keeping secrets from you again, as long as I live.’

He hugged her closer, forcing her chest against his. Her head dropped onto his shoulder, and she hugged him back. It was only when he heard someone clear their throat that he remembered they were at school.

When they drew apart, Alya and Nino were grinning at them.

Alya shook her head. ‘Seriously, guys. I love you two, but maybe pick a better venue?’

Adrien laughed. With Marinette at his side, he no longer cared if everyone stared at him. In fact, he’d give them something even better to stare at. Something to make them forget the original reason they were staring.

Without warning, he pulled Marinette into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. When he released her, he ran his fingers through one of her pigtails. ‘I think I’m ready to go to class, now.’

She beamed back at him.

He put an arm around her shoulder, and they all headed for their first class of the day. The stares were hot on his back as they made their way down the corridor. Questions seemed poised on everyone’s tongue, but no one gave them voice. Maybe people were afraid of the answers.

When he entered their classroom, the morning chatter ceased, like someone had switched off a radio. Not even Ms Bustier spoke.

Then Chloe rolled her eyes and huffed in irritation. ‘What’s with you people? You act like you’ve never seen the son of a terrorist before. You’re all so lame.’ She crossed her arms and looked away, like they weren’t good enough for her attention.

It should have been rude, but it was exactly what was needed – someone to say something. To bring it out into the open.

Embarrassed, everyone dragged their gazes away, slowly resuming their discussions. Adrien flashed Chloe a grateful smile as he took his seat beside Nino and in front of Marinette. Then he pulled out his books and sat waiting.

Waiting for something to focus on that had nothing to do with his father.

Somehow, he made it through his morning lessons. After that small success, he headed into the lunchroom, sitting with his friends. Alya was talking about something he could hardly concentrate on, when a shadow covered the table. Frowning, Adrien looked up, straight into the dark eyes of….

Lila.

He stilled. The last time he’d heard anything about Lila was when Marinette told him about her offer to join forces. The last time he’d seen her was the day she’d stormed out of the Agreste mansion, after that fight with his father.

Gabriel had jilted her, taking Adrien under his wing instead of her. Infuriated, Lila had said something like, ‘You’ll regret this!’ In Adrien’s memory, he heard her cackle and saw her shake her fist, although that probably wasn’t quite how it had gone down.

‘Adrien,’ she said now, in that syrupy voice she used when she was preparing to launch into a really special lie. ‘I just could not believe the news about your father. I mean, how could anyone have known that Gabriel Agreste – of all people – was actually Monarch.’

She said this like she thought it was original. But she sounded like one of those people on the news. They didn’t know what Gabriel was like at home. They didn’t know who he really was.

Adrien was not shocked that Gabriel was Monarch. Disappointed, dismayed, devastated – but not shocked. Sometimes there were truths you knew without knowing that you knew.

‘Why are you here, Lila?’ Marinette asked, earning a disapproving look from Alya. Even after all this time, it seemed Lila still managed to pull the wool over people’s eyes. Adrien could just imagine the news one day. ‘Lila Rossi – of all people!’

Lila pinned her gaze on him. ‘I wanted to express my deepest sympathy for Adrien. I mean, in a way, you and I are going through the same thing.’

Adrien tilted his head to the side, waiting for the explanation. It had to be good.

She put her hand to her chest in a show of emotion – too much of it. ‘You know, I don’t even know who my real father is? He abandoned me when I was a baby. I always felt like something was missing. Then your father came along. I loved him, Adrien, as I’m sure you loved him. How could you not? He was your father.’

The suggestion speared through his chest, his stomach turning with guilt. The fact was, he had yet to figure out whether he loved Gabriel – or whether he hated him.

Marinette took his hand, her eyes on their uninvited guest. ‘Give it up, Lila. You don’t know what Adrien’s going through. It’s insulting to pretend that you do.’

‘You wound me,’ Lila said. ‘I’m sharing something so personal here, and you don’t trust me – as usual.’

‘Ever think there might be a reason for that?’

The two of them locked eyes, each one daring the other to make the next move.

Adrien squeezed Marinette’s hand, words bursting through his lips. ‘If you loved Gabriel so much, why did you invite Marinette to team up with you to get revenge on him?’

Nino and Alya gasped, but Adrien kept his eyes on Lila.

Her mouth had dropped open. For once, it seemed she had nothing to say. Then that look of intense emotion filled her face once more. ‘I was hurting, Adrien. Surely you know what it’s like to think drastic things when you’re hurting. Honestly, I’m going to be in therapy for years.’

Marinette muttered something that sounded like a wish for Lila to end up in an asylum.

But Adrien flinched, his mind swirling with painful memories – of transforming into the Purple Emperor and using the butterfly.

Guilt rose in his throat. He should’ve listened to Marinette. He should’ve got away from his father when he had the chance. Instead, he’d let him get into his head – and let things get out of hand.

He pulled his hand out of Marinette’s. Her eyes rounded with surprise as he addressed Lila. ‘I do know what it’s like, Lila – to hurt like that. And I’m sorry my father made you feel like that. But I don’t want to keep talking about him. I just…. I want to move on.’

Lila’s lower lip wobbled like she was overcome. ‘That’s so brave of you, Adrien.’

He almost laughed – but maybe she was right. Maybe it was brave.

She held his eyes a little longer than he liked. ‘Well. I supposed I should get back to my table. I just came over to let you know that we’re in this together. Anytime you feel like you need to talk to someone who really understands…I’ll be around.’ She leaned in towards him as she said this, her voice sultry and her gaze flickering briefly to Marinette before landing again on him.

He drew away, leaning into Marinette. ‘Sure, Lila.’

She flashed him her flirtiest smile before turning on her heel and heading to her table – sitting with Chloe and Sabrina.

Relieved, Adrien turned back to his lunch. Beside him, Marinette was avoiding his eyes. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ he asked.

When she didn’t answer, he glanced at Nino and Alya, who were giving him that look that said don’t push it, man.

So, he didn’t.

After school, Adrien had fencing. Now that Gabriel was gone, there was no reason for him to keep up all the lessons he’d been forced into.

Except, there was. He’d spent so many years developing these skills. It would be a waste to throw it all away.

Now, he chose to attend the fencing lessons – Chinese – piano. And somehow, knowing all of it was his decision made the hard work an unexpected pleasure.

‘You’ve never fought better,’ Kagami commented after practice. ‘Freedom looks good on you.’ She sounded wistful.

At home, there was another family meal. He was getting used to them, learning to join in the banter without expecting hostile looks and barked orders to return to his room for being so forward.

‘I never knew how much your jokes suck,’ Nino said through laughter.

Mrs Lahiffe scolded him for being rude, but Adrien was laughing too.

At the close of the meal, he glanced at his phone. It was almost time for his evening patrol with Ladybug. He considered making up some kind of excuse to leave, like that he had heaps of homework to do in his room. But these were the Lahiffes. He didn’t need to make up stories. He could just say he was going out with Marinette. He could leave the mansion through the front door, instead of leaping out a window.

Half an hour later, he was strolling down the street, breathing in the fresh evening air. When he reached the nearest alleyway, he glanced one way, then the other, before darting inside where no one could see.

Plagg flew out of his shirt, wearing a deep frown. ‘Don’t get me wrong, kid. I’m glad you got your freedom, but –’

‘I know. It’s harder for you to fly about with all those people around the house. Not to mention, I have to pretend I have an addiction to cheese. Mrs Lahiffe looked so confused when she caught me sneaking camembert into my room the other night.’

Plagg crossed his tiny arms. ‘You’d better not let her make any changes to our arrangement.’

‘Relax, Plagg. It may all be done via the Court, but it’s still my money. If I say I want cheese, I get cheese. I don’t ask for anything else.’

‘Hmm. But you’re about to ask me for something.’

Adrien grinned. ‘Not ask – command. Claws out!’

Transformed, he extended his staff, leaping from rooftop to rooftop until he reached the usual meeting spot.

It was strange going on patrol, knowing there would be no akumas. Knowing each other’s identities. Knowing so much more than before.

What made it feel more normal was Ladybug’s tight-lipped but obvious irritation with him as they scanned the city for signs of distressed kittens or elderly people needing help crossing busy roads. After a disappointingly quiet evening, they abandoned patrol and sat side by side at their spot, on a rooftop high above the city, facing the Eiffel Tower.

After a long silence, Cat asked, ‘Okay, what have I done, this time?’

She pursed her lips, her eyes on the tower. When she spoke, her tone was clipped. ‘You know what Lila’s like. Yet you sat there at lunch and actually talked with her. You sympathised with her.’

Cat smiled. Thank God that was all that was bothering her. Thank god it was something he could fix.

‘M’lady.’ He scooted closer and took one of her hands. ‘You’re right. I do know what Lila’s like. She can’t be trusted. And she could still be dangerous – if we let her. But I’m not going to let her. Are you?’

He nudged her chin with one of his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to let her, either. But did you hear yourself, today? You sounded like you actually believed she was upset over what your father –’

Her free hand flew to her mouth.

Cat groaned. ‘Not you, too. Please don’t dance around what happened or be afraid to mention my father.’

If that was even what he was. The Gabriel who’d raised him wasn’t the man who’d made him. Hell, Adrien wasn’t the original boy the first Gabriel had made. He….

No. He couldn’t get to thinking about this again. The thread would tie him up in knots, if he let it.

He stared down at their hands, clasped together. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.

‘You didn’t see Lila that day – when I heard her fighting with my father. She really did sound upset, Marinette. Not just angry but upset. Like he really had broken her heart. I didn’t understand it, at the time. But today, when she said all that stuff about not knowing her father….’ He shrugged. ‘I guess it made sense.’

It was just about the only thing that did, in this crazy mess.

Ladybug sat in silence, her gaze on the Eiffel Tower, glowing under the growing moonlight.

At last, her shoulders sagged in defeat. ‘Okay. As long as we’re talking openly, I may have looked into that story she told us.’

Of course she had. ‘And…?’

‘And it seems her father did leave when she was a baby. Which means it’s possible she was being sincere about some of what she said. She just – oh, she overdoes it, Adrien!’

‘I know. But that doesn’t mean every word out of her mouth is a lie. I mean, her mother is an ambassador. I bet Lila really has been to a lot of the places she claims she has. She’s probably met a lot of the people she name-drops like it’s going out of fashion, too.’

She sighed. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘But you know what I think is the biggest lie she’s ever told?’

She looked up at him, waiting.

‘That she enjoys all of it.’

‘Adrien….’

‘I’m serious. I know something about being lonely, Marinette. I recognise it in her eyes. That’s why I tried to give her a chance, in the beginning. But she went too far and hurt too many people. She hurt you. Being unhappy is not an excuse to mistreat others. But she’s like any other bully. She’s miserable. And I think my father hurt her that much more.’

Just like he hurt everyone else who had the misfortune to cross his path.

Ladybug’s eyes bent with compassion. ‘You’re such a good person, Adrien.’

‘I don’t know about that. I just…I try not to be mean, that’s all. It’s not that hard, is it?’

‘You certainly make it look easy.’ There was admiration in her voice.

Slowly, she shifted on the rooftop, turning so she was facing him. He did the same, a sense of anticipation making his pulse speed up.

She reached for him, cradling his face with her hand. He sighed into her touch, his body somehow relaxing and tensing up all at once. Perhaps she could tell, because her mouth curved into a broad smile. Then she moved in, climbing into his lap.

A shock of electricity raced down his spine, waking up his blood. More alive than he’d been in months, he pulled her closer, feeling her heartbeat racing like his own. His hand trailed down her back, feeling the shape of her body through the fitted costume. She made a sound he would happily listen to over and over until the end of time.

Encouraged, he cupped the back of her head, drawing her face closer. When their lips met, a thought flashed through his head.

This was home.

‘Marinette,’ he murmured into her mouth. ‘Marinette, Marinette, Marinette….’

She kissed him harder, feeding him with her heat, her tongue forcing his lips further apart.

Visions filled his head. Of hauling her down with him and rolling on top of her. Of doing more than just kissing. The thought was almost too much, drawing sounds out of him he hadn’t even realised he was capable of making.

For the second time, it seemed she’d read his mind, because she pulled away, putting the breaks on before they could go any further. His body ached with frustration – but he accepted it, pressing his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath.

It had been a long time since she’d kissed him like that. If this was how every argument ended, he didn’t mind fighting with her every hour of every day.

After a long time, she said, ‘So – do we worry about Lila? Or do you think those days are over?’

Seriously? They were talking about Lila again?

He drew back a little, so he could see her face. Her expression was deadly serious. They were talking about Lila again.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, forcing back his yearning. ‘Without my father around anymore, she’s just a normal girl, right? No special powers. Just someone who tells stories to get attention. If you think about it…it’s kind of sad.’

Her brow lifted, her eyes large as she considered his words. Then she nodded slowly. ‘I hadn’t thought of it that way before.’ She bit her lip, almost an invitation if they were talking about something else. ‘So, we just leave her to it? We let her do her little lying thing?’

‘I guess? Unless you’ve decided we’re Paris’s leading authority now and it’s time to take her down. But she’s not Volpina anymore. She’s just Lila Rossi. She’s bound to grow out of it.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘I’m not sure about anything, Marinette. But one more year and we change schools anyway. We may never see her again. Someday, I bet we’ll look back on all this and wonder why we thought it mattered.’

She smiled. ‘Again, you make it sound so easy.’ She fingered the ends of his hair. ‘Okay. You have my word. I vow not to let Lila get to me. She can tell all the tall tales she wants. Maybe she’ll grow up to be a writer. Then she’ll have a healthy way to channel all her delusions and she’ll be out of our lives, and we can all live happily ever after.’

For some reason, those three little words made his breath catch. ‘You know, I never used to think that was possible for me.’

‘Me either. I used to think our superhero responsibilities would eat up all our time and I’d never be able to lead a normal life. Remember the Paris Careers Expo?’

He nodded.

‘I had a total identity crisis that day.’

‘Me too,’ he recalled. ‘My father had everything planned out for me. But now….’

‘You’re free.’

‘We both are.’ That should’ve been something to smile about, but her eyes were heavy.

‘Marinette. What is it?’

She looked down at his chest, maybe gathering her thoughts. When she met his gaze again, her words came out in a rush. ‘After collège, I’m going try to make a go of fashion design. I’ve been looking into lycées technologiques.’

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Because when he said the words out loud, it would make the situation real.

She made it real for him. ‘You’ll be going somewhere else, won’t you.’

All the warmth in his body faded. ‘Yes. I don’t know what I want to do yet, so Mrs Lahiffe has me looking at lycées generals. I’m going to carry on in the academic stream until I figure out who I – who I am, I guess.’

Whatever the hell that meant.

They held each other’s eyes, neither of them saying the obvious. That they would be going to different schools, and after that, different universities. Soon, they’d be on different paths. Would they grow together in the process?

Or would they grow apart?

‘We’ll get through it,’ she said. ‘You’ve heard what everyone says about us. We were made for each other, remember?’

He laughed softly, but the chill didn’t leave him. The words sounded so good, so right. But they were only words.

‘I mean it.’ She cupped his chin in her hand. ‘I’m never letting you go, Adrien. So, you’d better not let me go.’

‘Never.’ He shook his head violently.

‘We’ll get married someday.’

‘Yes.’

‘And have three kids.’

That made him pause. Then he shook his head. ‘Why not?’

‘And a hamster.’

‘Absolutely a hamster.’

They laughed together.

When the laughter faded, they locked eyes. Then they hugged each other fiercely, his heart racing again – this time, with fear. If only he could hold her forever. If only he could merge with her, so she could never get away.

The thought made him go rigid, memories thick in his head again. Of slinking into her mind without permission. Of feeding her ideas that weren’t her own. Of controlling her with the butterfly.

Sickness churned in his stomach, and he loosened his grip.

No. He couldn’t make her stay. He couldn’t make her do anything. And he didn’t want to. One thing he’d learned from Gabriel was that if you had to control someone to keep them, you never had them at all.

Whatever future lay ahead of them, all he could do was have faith that they would be okay. Like all those times he’d fallen, and she’d caught him – or even brought him back from oblivion – he would simply have to trust her.

Just as he always had before.

Chapter Text

Adrien was woken the next morning by the twins, their six-year-old energy a siren blaring in his ears from their bedroom across the hall.

Tossing aside the duvet, he lay on his back, limbs thrown out everywhere as he listened to the screams. It was hard to tell if they were playing or fighting over some toy. When he heard laughter, he let out the breath he’d been holding and reached for Marinette’s pillow, putting it over his face. Not hard enough to suffocate. Just enough to shut out the world and deny that it awaited him.

What he wouldn’t give for Hugo’s ability to sleep through noise. That boy could probably sleep through an earthquake. An akuma alert. The whole damn Eiffel Tower coming down, not two miles from their apartment….

But not Adrien. Having managed only maybe five hours’ sleep, his morning routine flashed before his eyes. Getting the twins dressed. Getting them to eat. Playing with them. Somehow fitting in work on his research paper. Getting Hugo to wake up at all.

Groaning, he removed the pillow. When did Marinette say she’d be home? How much longer did he have to be the only adult in the apartment?

His chest tightened, and he pushed away his bleak thoughts. They wouldn’t help – wouldn’t make the day move faster or change what he had to do.

Surrendering to his fate, he rubbed his bleary eyes, then imagined getting up. Visualised the process of moving his body – sitting, putting his feet on the floor and standing, walking.

It was a long time before he manifested the vision and tumbled out of his room and into the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, he examined the heavy circles under his eyes. Then he put his back to his reflection.

A shower woke him up. Tea would finish the job.

Dressed, he went to the twins’ room and flung open the door. ‘Okay, crazies – time to get dressed and have some breakfast.’

They were old enough to dress themselves, but it seemed to take them longer every day. At least it was Sunday. There was no school to get to on time, and he had no bakery duty until Monday, so he left them to it and headed for the kitchen to get his own breakfast.

He sat at the dining table with his phone out, spooning himself cereal while idly scrolling through social media posts from their friends. Alya and Nino had gone out last night, to celebrate their twenty-third anniversary. Next weekend, there would be dinner with friends. The restaurant had been reserved for the evening after Marinette’s first big runway show, presenting the costumes she’d designed for the cast of The League of Pneumatic Heroes. The show had really taken off – as had her career.

The thought of going out with everyone, without the kids, should have brought him relief. Instead, his stomach was tying itself in knots. When was the last time he’d done it? Did he even remember how to talk to people his own age? Like, in person?

Gobbling down another mouthful of cereal, he concentrated on his phone. The anniversary photos were fantastic, shot on some beach down on the Riviera. Selfies taken at funny angles to squash them both in. Alya and Nino had their arms around each other in every shot. Sometimes Alya was sitting on his lap, draped all over like a silk scarf, her eyelids a little droopy. She was an affectionate drinker. Adrien could almost hear her telling Nino she loved him, in the pictures.

Twenty-three years….

Adrien and Marinette had been together almost as long. But they hadn’t taken those kinds of pictures in quite a while.

Closing the app, he scrolled through the gallery on his phone, for his favourite shots of them together. The last one, taken by Alya – Marinette kissing him hard on the mouth after she’d just been hired for The League of Pneumatic Heroes – was dated two years ago.

Was it wrong to resent your wife’s dreams coming true?

Probably as wrong as fantasising about swearing at your teenage son.

He let his head drop onto the table.

But respite did not last long. The twins came barrelling in, audible before he saw them.

‘Papa, Papa!’ they shouted in unison.

He really should savour it while he could. How long before they stopped calling him that? Before they stared sullenly from doorways at midnight?

Lifting his head, he took in their outfits. Nothing matched, not even the socks. It was like they’d purposely searched for clashing colours and contrasting patterns. Emma’s hair was a rat’s nest of curls, too. But they were still so beautiful that they took his breath away.

He flashed them his brightest smile, the one he used to give in all those old photoshoots. ‘Well done, crazies! Breakfast?’

‘I want chocolate!’ Emma declared.

‘You know we don’t eat chocolate for breakfast,’ Adrien said.

‘Then what’s a pain au chocolate?’

Damn you, Tom.

Louis was jumping up and down like a pogo stick, speaking between hops. ‘I – want – pastries!’

‘Yeah, but this isn’t the bakery,’ Adrien said. ‘It’s cereal or nothing.’

They stared at him with blank faces. Although obviously not identical, they looked so similar. They had the same black hair and green eyes as their older brother, but chubby cheeks and none of Hugo’s practised miserabilism.

And they were definitely on the verge of calling his bluff. At six, not even seven, like Hugo. They knew there was no way he’d let them starve.

No wonder Gabriel had controlled Adrien and Felix with those rings. Forget sentimonsters. Kids were just monsters, full stop.

Monsters with adorable babydoll eyes.

He stood up, sensing the little beasts at his heels as he filled them both bowls of cereal. He set them on the table. ‘There. Eat.’

There was a symphony of whining. Then came the parental cajoling and bribing. He’d given up playing the airplane game. Six-year-olds weren’t impressed by that nonsense. They just kept their mouths pressed tightly closed. No way an airplane was going in that hangar. The spoon wound up on the floor, along with the food, and that meant more cleaning.

‘Okay, here’s how it goes. No one’s watching TV until this food gets eaten. I mean it.’ He did his best I mean it face, then pulled out his phone again to distract himself, so he wouldn’t have to see their round eyes and flush pink cheeks and cute little hands and tiny fingers.

It was like dealing with wild animals. He just had to avoid eye contact, and they would back off.

More pictures of Alya and Nino. Seriously, how many photos did they have to take? And did they really need to be posted all over social media? It was almost desperate. Like, ‘Look at us! Look how loved-up we are! We never fight! Alya never goes out for a work function all weekend and leaves Nino at home with the kids we never even had because we’re so perfect and our life is so perfect that we didn’t want to do anything to disrupt it. Look how perfect we are!’

He chewed at his lower lip. He knew something about being ‘perfect’. There was always more to the story. What were his friends really like behind the photos – behind the infrequent social meet-ups they managed to fit into everyone’s busy schedule?

Shame Nino was so tight-lipped. Probably because his perfect wife would kill him if he talked. Kill him in some perfect way that meant she got away with the crime.

He drifted into a fantasy of their two closest friends secretly raging at each other night after night. Maybe Nino was super messy, and Alya was sick and tired of how he always left his clothes all over the house. Dirty socks on the sofa. Oh, and his dishes. He probably snacked in front of the TV and left evidence scattered across the floor, then didn’t help with the vacuuming.

Shit. I didn’t vacuum, last night!

He leapt from the table so fast that he startled the twins.

Emma shovelled the last bite of her cereal into her adorable little mouth. ‘I’m finished, Papa!’

‘Me too!’ Louis announced.

Adrien’s eyes darted from one twin to the other – from one bowl to the other. ‘Really?’

They nodded with matching grins.

‘Wow. I mean….’ This had never happened before. He had to be dreaming.

‘Can we watch TV, please?’ Emma asked.

Please?

Definitely a dream.

‘Um…yeah. That was the deal, right?’

‘Yay!’ They hopped down from the table and raced each other out of the room, leaving him in stunned silence.

That – that really happened.

It was impossible, and yet….

He allowed himself to accept it as reality. He had just persuaded the twins to eat, without a fight. This was good. More than good. It was a victory. In fact, he’d just won a battle. He was like some kind of war hero. Where was his medal?

Maybe it would be a good day. Hell, maybe it would be a good week. Scratch that – maybe everything in his life would be perfect from here on out.

‘Maman!’ he heard the twins cry, almost making him choke. The word was like a fist around his heart, squeezing and wringing it dry.

‘Oh!’ Marinette’s voice danced from the living room into the kitchen. ‘Okay, let me put my things down first, at least. Hey, where’s your father?’

In the kitchen, he pressed his eyes shut, steadying his breath before he headed out to greet her, dimly recalling the vacuuming he hadn’t done.

There was once a time when he would’ve run to her and gathered her into his arms, not caring that the kids were watching. Now, he stood three metres away from her, pressed against the wall, waiting for a sign that she wanted him. It was hard to pinpoint when he’d begun doing this – when he’d noticed her pushing him away. When she’d started saying it was too much when she’d only just got home. That she was exhausted.

He was exhausted too.

‘Good to have you home,’ he greeted her.

She glanced at him, her arms around the twins, who’d engulfed her with hugs. ‘It’s good to be home.’

The words sent a pang through his heart.

She looked like she’d had as much sleep as he had – but probably for more entertaining reasons. Or maybe not. It was unfair to think of all those parties and dinners as ‘fun’. With his modelling history, he knew better than anyone just how much work went into such functions.

At thirty-seven, neither of them looked the way they had when they’d first met. Supposedly when you were in your thirties you were still so young. You had your whole life ahead of you! But there was no escaping the facts – their bodies just weren’t what they used to be.

Marinette’s figure had bounced right back after having Hugo, but it had taken months to lose the pregnancy weight after the twins. There had been more aches and pains. And it had been harder to carry the babies when they were born. Not to mention, having two at once made everything twice as difficult.

Adrien wasn’t as fit as he used to be, either. And his hair – like Marinette’s – had started going grey. He got away with it because his natural colour was so pale, but Marinette dyed hers every other month.

Laughing, she pushed the twins away, sending them back to the sofa, where they threw themselves in funny positions and watched their cartoons. She smiled, admiring them from across the room. Twenty-three years of memories of their partnership were etched into the tiny lines around her beautiful bluebell eyes.

Hopefully there would be twenty-three more – and more beyond that. No matter what happened, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. It was bad enough letting her go for one night.

With a soft sigh, she picked up the bags she’d brought in and walked over to Adrien, giving him a quick kiss on the lips – too quick. He took the bags from her and followed her down the hall to their bedroom.

He pushed open the door with his foot and set her bags on the floor in front of their built-in wardrobe. ‘How was it?’

She sat heavily on the bed. ‘Tiring. By eleven, I just wanted to go home, but Yves was dragging me around the room, introducing me to all these people.’ She rubbed the outer corners of her eyes.

Adrien leaned against the wardrobe, thinking again of the upcoming dinner party and trying to remember what it was like to be around so many people. He’d been good at it, growing up. Now, he’d probably stammer out his words like Marinette used to in school. When had they switched roles?

Pursing her lips, she patted the bed beside her.

His heart fluttered at the invitation, and he pulled away from the wardrobe, sitting where indicated.

‘How was it here?’ she asked.

He shrugged, trying his best not to seem like he’d spent the last night having an existential crisis – again. ‘The twins were pretty well-behaved. There was a lot of Lego.’

‘Thanks for putting it all away. The apartment looks great.’

‘Sorry I didn’t get round to vacuuming. Or half the other things on my list.’

She gave him a weary smile. ‘Adrien. I never asked you to make that list.’

‘I know. But it’s the least I can do while you’re out at work and….’ He trailed off, because he couldn’t interpret the look she was giving him. Then he switched tracks. ‘Hugo came home late.’

‘Again?’

‘Seems to be his thing, now. Just stays out as much as he can.’

‘How late?’ she asked.

‘Close to midnight.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What did he have to say for himself?’

‘The usual.’

‘So, nothing.’

He nodded.

She narrowed her eyes, like she was reading his thoughts on his face. ‘Did you have another fight?’

‘I don’t think I’d call it that. It was more like a face-off. I lost.’

She covered his hand with hers. ‘I’m sure you did the best you could.’

Maybe this should’ve been reassuring, but it wasn’t. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t mean she would join him in the battle. It didn’t mean she would be home more.

But her touch felt good, and one frustration gave way to another.

Taking his chances, he pulled her into his arms, trying to read her eyes. Imagining he knew what they were telling him right now. Then he pressed his mouth hard onto hers. If he could just kiss her enough, please her enough, she would be so delirious with adoration that she would never leave him again.

He pulled her down onto the bed with him, dragging his fingers through her dark hair and pulling her face even closer into his. She made a little noise that reminded him of better times and heated him with excitement. His hand slipped from her head, down her shoulder, her chest. Finding the bottom of her blouse, he slid his palm under it, finding her warm skin. His body ached to feel her, on him, over him, surrounding him. Maybe she wanted it, too.

But when he teased the edge of her bra, she pressed a hand to his chest and gently pushed him away, forcing them apart.

‘The kids are right out there, Adrien,’ she whispered.

‘So? They have the TV. They won’t even notice we’re gone. And Hugo will be asleep until next week.’

‘Adrien….’

‘I’ll be quiet, I promise.’

She smiled at him. He knew that smile. It was her smile of apology. ‘I only just got home, too. I barely slept. I haven’t had a shower. I spent twelve hours networking and….’ She blew out a breath. ‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, but…I kind of want to be alone, for a while. You know. To re-set my brain.’

‘Oh.’ For a moment, he didn’t move. He didn’t know what to do.

Then he drew away, rolling onto his back, an island on one side of the bed. Her side.

She sat up, straightening her clothes and hair. ‘I’m so sorry, Adrien. It’s just bad timing, you know? Nothing to do with you.’

‘Yeah, sure. I get it. You do what you need to do.’ He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling so he wouldn’t have to see the look of pity he knew she was giving. Because what was the point of pity, if you didn’t intend to do anything to fix the problem?

He heard her going through her bags before stepping into the ensuite and closing the door behind her. Only then did he turn onto his side and look in the direction she’d left.

It wasn’t really about sex. He wasn’t one of those men you read about in magazines who supposedly thought about it every six seconds and spent half their lives looking at porn. He just missed feeling close to his wife. His best friend.

He’d once told Ladybug that his happiest moments were when he was with her. He’d meant it. Perhaps the best thing about being Ladybug and Cat Noir had been that obligation to be together. Back then, she’d had no excuse not to be with him. But now….

He frowned at the bathroom door, ashamed of his own thoughts. He knew better than most what it was like to be owned and controlled. He would not wish that on Marinette. Besides, he’d volunteered for the house-husband role.

When she came out of the ensuite, she was wearing new clothes. It seemed she hadn’t wanted to dress in front of him. No doubt worried she’d get his hopes up. Her hair was wrapped in a towel.

‘What are your plans for the day?’ she asked, not meeting his eyes as she rummaged through her bags.

He shrugged against the bed. ‘Maybe I’ll take the twins to the playground. They can run around while I work.’

‘How’s the paper going?’ She pulled out a hairbrush and let the towel fall to the floor.

‘I mean…it’s going.’

She laughed as she brushed her hair. ‘You sound like Hugo.’

‘I do?’

‘Mm-hm. I ask him how school was. He says it was fine. I ask what he did all day. He says he learned stuff.’

Adrien tried to think of the last time he’d seen Marinette have any kind of conversation with their eldest. It was kind of difficult when neither of them was ever home.

Too often, Adrien would get a notification from the school to let him know Hugo had been issued another after-school detention. Then he’d receive a text from Hugo to say – not even ask but say – that he was skipping said detention going out with ‘a friend’. When pressed, he wouldn’t give details.

It was normal for him to miss family meals.

And he hadn’t been in the same building as his mother in…a long time.

‘Do you call him much?’ Adrien asked.

‘Hugo? Sure. Well…I text him.’

The admission was painful.

‘He doesn’t really reply much. He talks in monosyllables. But I guess that’s what teenagers are like.’

‘We weren’t,’ Adrien pointed out.

She paused, the hairbrush halfway down her hair. ‘I guess not. But we were different. That’s why we were chosen.’

Was that what she told herself, to rationalise what was happening with their son?

He sat up. ‘Do you ever miss those days?’

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘What, having to lie to our friends and family all the time? Missing school and sleep because we were on call at all hours? Risking our lives and feeling the weight of responsibility on our backs at every moment?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I miss that at all.’

‘Really? Not even Tikki?’

That earned a reaction. ‘Of course, I miss Tikki,’ she said softly. ‘But you know we can’t have them floating around the house. The kids would never keep it secret. And think of the food bill. Good cheese isn’t cheap.’

Adrien managed a grin, though his heart hurt at the thought of Plagg. ‘I don’t mean that. I just mean…you and me against the world. Those days. Didn’t that feel good?’

She laid the brush on top of her bags and sat beside him on the bed again. ‘It’s still you and me against the world. You know that.’

‘Do I?’

She flinched. ‘O-kayyy. Is there something you want to talk to me about?’

So many things.

But nothing he could say. Because it all boiled down to him wishing she didn’t have her dream job – and he would not be that kind of mind.

He plastered that Adrien Agreste smile on his face. ‘I just missed you, last night, that’s all.’

Again, it was hard to read her expression. Kind of like relief. But also like she saw right through him. The photoshoot smile never worked on her – but she didn’t press it.

‘I missed you too,’ she said.

He wasn’t sure if she was saying this to reassure him or if she really meant it. Choosing to believe she meant it, he kissed her again, but only lightly. He would respect her wishes, just as he always did.

‘I’m going to pack up some things and take the twins out,’ he said. His exit line.

She nodded. ‘Great idea. You’re a great dad, you know. I always knew you would be.’

I didn’t.

He stood. ‘Enjoy your alone time. Maybe when you’ve…re-set your brain…we could spend some time together?’

‘I’d really love that.’

His model smile grew into a real one – because she sounded sincere. Then he left the room, closing the door to give her privacy.

In the living room, he found the twins watching one of the old Ladybug and Cat Noir films. It looked strangely dated, now. Something from a bygone era that no longer belonged. Like him.

‘You know these are based on real people?’ he said.

The twins shared a look, then burst out laughing.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Louis said. ‘There are no superheroes in Paris.’

‘Well, not anymore,’ Adrien said. ‘You’ll learn about it in school someday.’ It had been the height of strangeness when his own father had been added to the history curriculum.

They shared another look.

Through giggles, Emma said, ‘Papa, you’re so funny!’

Adrien laughed too. Kind of. Next, they’d be telling him Santa didn’t exist. He’d have to pretend that was true, too.

He clapped his hands to get their attention. ‘So, guess what! We’re going to the playground!’

They stared at him in obvious disappointment.

‘But we’re watching TV,’ said Louis.

Adrien marched over to the TV and switched it off, talking over the wails of protest. ‘Not anymore! Go use the toilet and get your shoes on. Come on, let’s go!’

Shoulders sagging with reluctance, the twins trudged off down the hall while Adrien went into the kitchen to put together a picnic basket. In the old days, it had been Marinette who was always prepared, who always had a plan. But Adrien had picked up a thing or two over the years and now went nowhere without an arsenal of snacks and tissues. He’d even taken to stuffing unused napkins into his pockets or the twins’ supply bag, at cafés and restaurants.

If he ever went out.

The last time he’d seen Nino, he’d reached into his jeans pocket for his keys and pulled out a pile of tissue. ‘You never know when you might need it,’ Adrien had said. Impossible to explain to someone without kids.

He heard chaos break out in the small foyer that lay between the living room and the front door. Some disruption over shoes.

He ignored it and filled a glass of water to give to Rosemary on the kitchen windowsill – named so because she was…rosemary. He’d grown her from seed and, miracle of miracles, she’d taken root. Now she was quite bushy. He was careful not to cut too much off her when he cooked. Just enough to keep her shapely and pretty. A healthy prune.

‘Time for your breakfast, M’lady,’ he murmured to the plant.

He dropped into the voice he’d thought up for Rosemary. A higher-pitched version of his own voice. ‘Ooh, thank you, kind sir! Yes, yes! Lovely, yummy water! Mmm!’

Then he leaned on the counter and grinned at the plant. ‘You’re beautiful, you know. Look at you, with all your…leaves and…sticks….’

‘God, are you always this weird in the morning?’ Hugo grumbled from behind him.

Adrien jumped and spun around. ‘You’re awake? Before dinner?’

Hugo rolled his eyes. Not in an affectionate way. ‘Maman banged on the door and woke me up.’

‘Huh.’ And she survived? ‘I’m taking the twins to the playground.’

Hugo shrugged, wearing a look that plainly said he didn’t care and didn’t need more information.

For some reason, that made Adrien keep talking. ‘Hopefully, there’ll be some other kids there, to keep the twins occupied. I’m taking my books and the laptop, so I can work on my paper.’

Ignoring him, Hugo started hunting through the cupboards. He drew back with an expression of disgust. ‘No pastries?’

‘There’s cereal.’

‘Whatever. I’m going to the bakery.’ He left the kitchen.

Adrien stared at the empty space his son had left behind. Then he turned back to Rosemary. Was it his imagination, or did she look a little droopier than before? There were studies that said plants were sensitive to negative atmospheres.

So were people.

Sighing, he took the picnic bag into the living room, where he collected his books, belatedly remembering the hamster hadn’t been fed yet today. He was running on his wheel, in a cage by the window. Adrien opened the cupboard below, to retrieve the hamster food. He dropped it in and reached inside the cage to tickle the hamster, never feeling more connected to the little guy. It wasn’t just hamsters who ran on wheels.

Loneliness, they’d named him. It had been funny. A private joke between Adrien and Marinette. It didn’t seem so funny anymore.

He shut the cage and headed to the foyer, where he found the twins playing tag in a space that was way too small for it and crashing into the walls. He let them, while he put on his trainers.

‘Okay!’ Everything he said these days had to be at a volume to be heard over shouting six-year-olds. ‘To the playground!’

He pointed to the door, almost with a salute, like they were going on a grand expedition.

And in a way, they were. The expedition of life, he thought, before shaking his head at his own cheesiness and opening the door to yet another long day.

Chapter Text

Gaining overnight brothers was both a miracle and a new reason for Adrien to feel like an outsider in his own home.

On quiet days, Nino accompanied him back to the mansion after school, something he’d probably never get used to. Being able to walk home from school? With a friend? What kind of madness was this?

Other times, like if Adrien had a fencing lesson, or an hour with his Chinese tutor – or he went out socially – then the Gorilla would drive him home. Inside, he’d be met by the sound of Chris arguing with Nino over a video game, or their parents talking and laughing together as they made dinner in the kitchen. And in a building like that, with all those tiled floors, sound travelled. The jokes and conversation and friendly banter echoed from wall to oversized wall, finally settling in Adrien’s heart.

One afternoon, when he followed that sound to the living room. Hovering in the doorway, he watched Nino and Chris bicker affectionately, a heaviness in his chest.

Noticing him, Nino looked up. ‘Oh, hey, man. Wanna join us?’

Adrien eased himself away from the doorframe. ‘Love to.’ He settled on the floor and grabbed a controller.

But that weight didn’t lighten. The fact was, no matter how long they lived together like this, Nino and Chris would never really be his brothers. This wasn’t his real family.

Later, after dinner, he returned to his room to practise piano, and his head grew hazy with memories. His mother sitting on the bed, listening to him play. His father’s stern face and inevitable pronouncement that Adrien had hit one wrong note and therefore wasn’t taking his practice seriously. Nathalie standing board-rigid, hands clasped together, emotions trapped behind her eyes like a caged animal.

As awful as it all was…it was what he’d grown up with. It had shaped him. It was part of him, whether he liked it or not.

And no one in this house could connect with it.

He let his fingers dance along the piano keys – a Chopin piece that had been one of his father’s favourites. It was almost impossibly difficult, but Adrien mostly managed it. He could probably make a career out of piano, if he wanted to, but it didn’t seem to matter. No one checked on his progress anymore. No one cared if he played piano or not. No one was listening.

Halfway through the piece, his fingers stopped working and slumped on the keys.

Plagg looked down at him from the top of the piano, a hunk of cheese beside him. ‘What’s wrong?’

Adrien let a long breath. ‘Is it weird that I’m…missing my father?’

His kwami didn’t answer at first. Just chewed his cheese. Then he flew down and made a discordant landing on the keys. ‘It’s tempting to make a wisecrack…but no, I don’t think it’s weird. As crazy as the guy was, he was your father. You’re kind of programmed to love him.’

Adrien winced at the word programmed. ‘You sound like Lila.’

Plagg’s eyes went wide. ‘How dare you.’

Adrien tried for a smile and failed. ‘I stood by Ladybug’s decision to send Gabriel and Emilie away to that other reality. And it was my choice to remain in this world without them. But sometimes it’s…it’s hard living with that decision.’

‘Have you told Marinette that?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to lay guilt on her. She did a really generous thing – for me. I mean, Gabriel got off lightly. We could’ve turned him in to the authorities and let him rot in some jail cell for the rest of his life.’

‘Maybe she knew that wouldn’t have made your life any easier,’ Plagg said. ‘Knowing you, if she’d handed him to the police, you’d feel an obligation to visit him in prison. You’d just be tied to him in a new way.’

‘I…I know. I think Marinette did the right thing. I really do. It’s just….’ Adrien’s fingers stiffened on the keys. ‘He’s basically dead, Plagg. And so is my…Emilie. That makes me an orphan. That’s real. That’s my life now.’

It never seemed to stop stinging.

Plagg remained silent. He’d grown strangely serious since the Last Battle – as if not only did Adrien absorb Plagg’s energy when he became Cat Noir, but he fed some of his own energy back into Plagg. Maybe it had always been that way.

After a long time, Plagg said, ‘Maybe you need to reach out to someone who’s going through the same kind of problem.’

The suggestion seemed to strike Adrien in the chest, making him go concave. In fact, he’d had the same idea, but…. ‘What if he just wants to get on with his life? Maybe he doesn’t need me coming along, bringing all this up and trying to tie us together any more than we already are.’

‘There’s only one way to find out.’ Plagg gave him a meaningful look.

He was right.

Adrien pulled out his phone, a decision made. Heart in his mouth, he sent the text that had been itching under his fingertips for more than a month. Just six words, but somehow they were difficult to type.

Adrien: Hey. Can I come see you?

Then he put his phone away and repositioned his fingers on the piano keys, letting Chopin take him away from his thoughts.

Two days later, Adrien flew over the Channel as Astro Cat, eventually landing in a London alleyway and de-transforming. After feeding Plagg, he made for the nearest tube station, head down so he didn’t attract attention.

The Piccadilly Line was packed, with tourists crammed in like ants on a lone leaf. After waiting fifteen minutes, he finally squeezed onto a train, back hunched and head bowed as the doors pressed against him. Without a pole to hold, he used his body weight to counter the lurching of the train, deeply relieved to breathe in the open air when he finally exited at Knightsbridge Station.

Still avoiding eye contact, he headed into Harrods. It wasn’t the sort of place he’d normally go for lunch. At least, not since the loss of his father.

It was absolutely the sort of place Gabriel used to visit. A place where you could buy new-born baby outfits for £8,000 even though they’d only last you maybe two months – or genuine Salvador Dali originals. There were private rooms for expensive cigars kept at just the right temperature to preserve the flavour of the luxury cancer sticks. Even in the bookstore, there were one-of-a-kind publications that cost in the thousands.

The few affordable sections included the Christmas department – where ornaments ranged from plebian prices to eyewatering – and the food hall. Although even that had some shockers, like a ‘cake’ of aged tea leaves with a £17,000 price tag.

Thankfully, when he made it to the pizza bar, the menu didn’t look too extravagant. Although he had plenty of money in his trust fund, he didn’t intend to waste it. From now on, he was a normal boy with a normal life.

Sort of.

Perusing the menu, he placed an order. Then he pulled out his phone, scrolling through it until he heard a familiar voice.

‘Cousin,’ Felix greeted him from behind, his tone ironic.

Adrien spun around on his swivel chair, almost falling back at what he saw. His twin was overdressed, as usual, in a deep blue suit with some kind of tropical flowers subtly embroidered into the jacket.

On second thought, maybe his outfit was entirely appropriate for a place like this. More appropriate than Adrien’s jeans and t-shirt combination, anyway.

‘It’s good to see you,’ Adrien said, never meaning it more.

Plagg was right. He already felt better, being face to face with the one person in the world who might know what he was going through. Yes, his friends were sympathetic. Marinette, especially, was perfect in her support. But Felix was living the same thing Adrien was.

Felix was another sentimonster.

He took up the seat Adrien had saved for him at the bar. When he spoke, it was in French. ‘I would’ve chosen sushi.’

‘I’m sure you would. But I’m the one who travelled all the way over. And you insisted on Harrods. I at least get to choose the cuisine.’

Felix arched an eyebrow at a steaming platter of pizza being delivered to someone sitting a couple feet away. ‘If you can call that cuisine.’

Adrien grinned. ‘I ordered for you.’

Another eyebrow arch, now aimed at him. ‘I don’t believe your journey here was as tiring as you make it sound.’

‘Flying takes it out of you.’

‘Hm. I’m not sure your idea of flying is the same as mine. Did you order a drink for me, too?’

‘Nope. I’ll leave that one to you.’

Felix got the attention of one of the servers and ordered. Then he leaned an elbow on the counter, the most casual gesture Adrien had ever seen from his cousin.

Twin.

That fact still hadn’t solidified in his mind.

‘So,’ said Felix, ‘why the sudden urgency to see me? Surely you don’t already have some emergency you need me to take care of for you.’

Adrien rolled his eyes. ‘Right. Because you did everything, last time.’

‘I was…instrumental.’

This was true. ‘It’s nothing like that. I just…wanted to spend time with you.’

Felix smirked. ‘You’re so sentimental,’ he said. But the sparkle in his green eyes suggested maybe he liked being wanted. It was a feeling Adrien recognised as his own.

Adrien cleared his throat, keeping his voice down when he spoke. ‘The truth is…it’s been hard. You know. Finding out about who we are and…the whole history.’

Felix nodded in sympathy – empathy. ‘It doesn’t change who we are, though. You’re the one who told me that.’

‘It’s one thing to say it and another to feel it.’

‘To believe it, you mean.’

Yes, that was what he meant.

The server arrived with their pizzas and drinks. A reminder that this was a strange place to have such a conversation. Too open, maybe.

The temptation rose up Adrien’s throat, to shout their secrets to this person – to everyone in the bar. His mouth actually started opening, when the server stepped away, leaving them alone again. Adrien grabbed a slice of pizza and took a huge bite, swallowing it down along with that crazy urge.

Felix used a knife and fork, the picture of good English breeding. On his first bite, he made a noise of delight. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Pizza was a very good idea.’

Adrien grinned.

‘So,’ said Felix. ‘Basically, you’re telling me you’re having an identity crisis. What’s new?’

Adrien choked on his next mouthful, forcing it down with some water. ‘How did I forget how blunt you are?’

‘Isn’t that why you wanted to see me? So someone would speak to you straight?’

He…had a point.

‘I don’t mean to sound flippant,’ Felix said. ‘I know this is hard for you. It was hard for me too. I guess I’ve just had longer to process it. I’ve kind of come to terms with it now. But when my father first confirmed everything for me….’ He frowned, taking another long bite before continuing. ‘I want to say I was shocked, but the truth is, it felt like I’d always known. I’d just been put under a spell to make me forget. Like a princess in a fairy tale.’

Adrien winced, thinking of Emilie. Of her body in that glass coffin in the mansion basement, before he’d ordered it to be interred.

He shoved the imagery to the back of his mind. ‘After you woke up…were you angry?’

‘I’m not sure that’s the right adjective. Certainly, there was anger at Gabriel. Anger at him for rejecting me. And possibly the kind of anger one feels when they learn they’re adopted. But there was also relief. Because if I wasn’t part of…people…then there was no further reason to try to fit in with them.’

Adrien’s brow rose. ‘You don’t want to connect with anyone?’

‘I didn’t say connect. I said fit in. I’ve always felt outside of everyone, Adrien. Learning the truth about myself…it released me from trying to be someone I’m not.’ He shrugged, as if the matter were simple.

A montage ran through Adrien’s mind, of all the horrible things Felix had done in the last year. There was that time when he’d erased those supportive messages Adrien’s friends had sent on the anniversary of Emilie’s death. Not to speak of when he’d stolen all the miraculous and handed them to Gabriel. He’d even tried to force a kiss on Marinette.

That last one, especially, should have been unforgiveable. But looking at him now….

He was like a crab or something. Hard on the outside, but mushy and vulnerable inside.

Adrien took his time in replying. ‘The last fencing tournament I ever competed in…I placed second to Kagami. Probably any other parent would’ve been proud of me. But Gabriel took one look at the silver trophy and told me he’d speak to my instructor about doubling my lessons.’

Felix shook his head, cursing under his breath.

‘Yeah. And that’s the thing. He’d done maybe a thousand other things like that. A million even. But for some reason, that day, something clicked. It hit me that there was nothing I could do to win my father’s approval. Even if I’d placed first, he still wouldn’t have been happy with me. And in a strange way, that was a relief, too. Like, if the situation really was hopeless, I didn’t have to try anymore. I was free to be a disappointment.’

Something flashed in Felix’s eyes – a hint of the rejected little boy lingering beneath the polished veneer. ‘I suppose that’s me, as well. A disappointment.’

The word hung between them.

They ate in silence – but comfortable silence. The silence of two people who didn’t need words to understand what the other was feeling.

Then Felix said, ‘When you came to me and told me the rest of the story…the chapters my father never knew…I suppose I had another identity crisis, after that. But perhaps not for the reasons you’d expect.’

Adrien studied him, following the trail of his admission. ‘You’d spent all that time believing it was Gabriel who gave you up. Then you learned it was Emilie. You had to switch from hating our father to hating our mother.’

Felix nodded heavily, like his thoughts had physical weight in his skull. ‘But it was exhausting hating everyone – so I decided not to do it anymore.’

‘You can do that? Just switch off the hate?’

‘Why not? If you want something badly enough….’ Felix shrugged.

‘I don’t think we were made the same,’ Adrien teased.

‘Perhaps not. But that, too, made it easier.’ Felix’s gaze dropped to his plate.

Adrien’s brow creased in question. ‘What do you mean?’

Felix didn’t answer immediately. He carried on eating, forming his thoughts. Then he said, ‘Remember when I told you I thought you were made to be good and I was made to be bad?’

‘I – I remember.’

‘Well. For a long time, I resigned myself to it. Then you swept in there and told me it wasn’t true, and suddenly, every bad thing I’d ever done was my choice. It was mine to regret. And I…I didn’t want more of that.’

‘But simply not doing bad things isn’t enough.’

‘No. It isn’t. You have to do good things, too.’ Felix kept his focus on his plate, and they fell quiet again.

When they’d finished eating, Felix pushed aside his plate and said, ‘I enjoyed that more than I expected. Shall we get ice cream after this?’

Adrien laughed, a little too loudly, drawing looks. Looks from people who were trying to place him, to figure out why they recognised him. He’d once heard an anecdote about Marilyn Monroe claiming to be able to turn the ‘Marilyn’ act on and off at will – to go unnoticed in a crowd. He had yet to figure out how to do this.

Seemingly oblivious to the stares, Felix leaned on the bar again with enviable ease. ‘So. Will you continue to…do that thing you do, now that there’s no threat?’

That thing.

It was a good question. In fact, it was a point constantly on Adrien’s mind as he headed towards the end of collège.

‘I’m not sure,’ he said, keeping his voice down. ‘I mean, we’re kind of like firefighters, now. You know, saving cats from trees, that kind of thing.’

‘Is that rewarding?’

‘Well, sure. You know I like cats.’

Felix smiled faintly. ‘I must say, that came as a surprise. More than the story you told me about our parents. Who would’ve thought that perfect little Adrien Agreste led a double life like that? And your character, too. Where’d you think him up?’

Adrien frowned a little. ‘He’s not really a character. He’s just me.’

‘The strangest part is that I really think you might be telling the truth.’ Felix’s smile grew, softening all his practised edges. ‘Alright. So, you’re saving kittens. Is that what you intend to do forever?’

‘No.’

‘What happens next, then, in your grand story?’

‘I…don’t know.’ Adrien shifted in his seat, feeling a little dizzy. ‘But we’re only fourteen, right?’

‘Fifteen is coming very soon.’

Indeed. In less than three months, it would be his first birthday without either parent – not that Gabriel had ever celebrated it much when he’d been in the world.

And only three years after that, Adrien would be deemed a legal adult.

Cold fear filled his stomach, and he replaced it with a long drink of water before speaking again. ‘The truth is, thinking about the future terrifies me. I have no idea what I want to do with myself.’

‘Well, with your inheritance, you don’t actually need to work.’

‘But I want to.’

‘As do I.’ Felix gave him another of those delicate smiles, a fragile thing as precious as the confession he’d just made. ‘If you ask me, I think you should get out there and experience everything you can until you find your passion. Hell, blow all your inheritance on experiences for the rest of your life, if you have to. Do everything you never got to do as a child.’

That was an appealing plan. Only…. ‘There’s Marinette to think about, too. Whatever I decide to do, it’ll affect her.’

‘I take it she does have plans for the future?’

Adrien laughed again. ‘Yes. She’s had it all worked out for ages. A career in fashion design – marriage – three kids and a hamster.’

Felix blinked at him. ‘And…do you want any of that, too?’

‘…yes. I mean. Whatever her career plans, I’ll support her 100%. And if we’re still together when we’re older, I want to get married. And I’ll probably want children at some point. And I definitely like hamsters.’

‘You really want children someday?’

‘You don’t?’

‘I have no idea,’ Felix said. ‘I can’t even imagine being in a relationship. I’ve never – I’m not really someone who dates.’

He handed out the answer slowly, his voice thick with uncertainty. Confusion. Loneliness.

‘What kind of father do you think you’ll be?’ he asked softly.

‘I – I don’t know. Sometimes, I try to imagine it, and….’ Adrien took a breath. ‘Maybe I’m not actually suited for it. I mean, I can tell myself what kind of parent I’ll be. But what if I’m wrong? What if I turn out to be really strict? Or yell at my kids? Or ignore them? What if –’

‘You discover you’re just like Gabriel?’ Felix finished for him.

Adrien let his eyes fall closed a moment, before opening them again. ‘Yes.’

Felix sighed. ‘Adrien. In all the most important ways, you are less like Gabriel than anyone I can think of. That’s why you always clashed. That’s why he tried so hard to control you and failed.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so. As far as I can tell, the only thing you have in common with him – apart from terrible jokes – is that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it. The only reason you didn’t break free sooner was because you didn’t want it enough. But as soon as you got the idea in your head, you were gone.’

He wasn’t wrong. Even with Ladybug. Adrien had never given up on her, and now she was his – inasmuch as anyone could ‘belong’ to someone.

‘Are you saying I’m silly to worry?’ he asked.

Felix shook his head. ‘Of course you’re worried. Hell, so am I. But you’ll make it through in the end, just like you’ve made it through everything else. You’re more powerful than you think, Ade. Perhaps we all are.’

Speech complete, he leaned back on his stool, a reflective look in his eyes.

As Adrien stared at him, a light seemed to switch on in his mind. Just as he’d hoped, Felix understood him in a way no one else could, despite their history.

No. Because of their history.

‘Be part of that future with me,’ Adrien blurted.

Felix’s eyes flew to him, waiting for explanation.

‘I don’t want to do the distant cousin thing anymore,’ Adrien said. ‘You’re my brother. Let’s be part of each other’s lives – for real, this time. Let’s – let’s create the family we never had.’

‘You mean –’

‘I’ll have the three kids and the hamster. And maybe you can do something similar. Let’s break the cycle – prove that we can both be better parents than Gabriel and Emilie ever were.’ He spat out the words, almost breathless with unexpected excitement.

Felix’s mouth curved into a slow smile. ‘Alright. It’s a plan. And let’s do whatever we want, too. I think I’d like to be a magician.’

‘Like, on stage?’

‘Yes. I’ll wear expensive tuxedos and dazzle audiences all over the world with tricks no one’s ever seen before. Tricks that make them question the laws of physics.’

Adrien grinned, recalling all the magic tricks Felix had learned when they were kids. He lifted his glass. ‘To the future.’

Felix raised his glass too. ‘To the future.’

Sharing a conspiratorial smile, they clinked glasses. Then they both drank deeply, sealing the spell they’d just cast together.

Chapter Text

It had been years since Adrien had done a fashion show of any kind – decades. Even before he quit modelling, he’d sworn off runway work. If he was going to swagger down a catwalk, he expected to be in his actual cat costume, mask and all. Not parading himself up and down, while people stared and flashed cameras at him as if he were a painting rather than a person.

If he’d chosen that lifestyle, fine. But when he tried to imagine sending Hugo down a runway against his will, so strangers could gape at him and take photos….

Well, he just wouldn’t. End of subject.

So, he was knocked almost breathless by the grip of nostalgia on his heart as he sat in one of the special VIP guest seats reserved for him, Hugo, Alya and Nino at Marinette’s latest event.

Stranger still was the instinctive, critical eye through which he watched the three models. No matter how poised and cool they appeared under the spotlights, as soon as they slipped backstage it would be a frenzy of fabric flying all over the place as they threw off one outfit and pulled on another, just in the nick of time for their next appearance.

One of them had all the tells of limited experience. It was in the way the young man walked, how he pivoted at the end of the catwalk so he could be seen from all angles. There was something in his eyes that said he was still trying to find his walk, his way of carrying the clothing.

Modelling was so much more than dressing up and prancing around. It took courage, confidence, and personality – which was a challenge if you were still trying to work out what your personality was. It was like trying to find your artist style, or your voice as a writer, or your personal expression of a song that everyone had heard a million times before.

Adrien recognised the identity crisis in the model’s eyes because he’d once worn it himself, like he’d worn all the clothing he’d been stuffed into. Maybe the man up on that runway would find his walk and use it on whatever path he was destined to take. Maybe it would even be in the fashion industry. Or maybe he wasn’t made for this, just like Adrien had always known he wasn’t.

Made for this. Three little words that took on more meaning, in his case.

The male model exited into the wings, replaced by a young woman in a corseted butterfly-purple jacket. It was hard to see from this distance, but the button ‘eyes’ were little clocks, while more tiny clocks studded the outer seams of the sleeves, flared at the wrists and trimmed in black lace. The rest of the ensemble was equally extravagant, right down to the knee-high boots, laced all the way up and, again, covered in little clocks.

They were modelled after his old Cat Noir boots, Marinette had told him when she’d first drawn up the designs. Already, it had been two years – two whole years since she’d been hired to do the costumes for her first TV series. In time, there would probably be films, too. She’d always burned with talent.

The clock motif continued as the next model took the stage – steampunk costumes for a steampunk show. This model was another man, dressed uncannily like a certain Cat Walker from days of yore. So many of Marinette’s designs were inspired by their old lives.

A memory flashed through Adrien’s head – of being a teenager and scouring the old Agreste mansion. Of finding Gabriel’s book of akuma victim costume designs. It seemed fashion had always been an integral part of miraculousing.

‘Is that what you used to do?’ Hugo asked under the applause of the crowd. It was difficult to gauge the tone of his question.

‘Yeah. Basically.’

Hugo snorted and didn’t comment, leaving Adrien to wonder just what in hell was going on in his son’s mind – as usual. Did he judge him?

As a kid, a lot of people had admired Adrien for his modelling, not to mention his work as Cat Noir. Not that they’d known any of that was him. Between the two personae, he’d had a lot of fans around the world. Yet under his son’s scrutinising eye, he felt small and ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous, an old friend would’ve said.

‘I never chose it,’ he said. But his words were lost in the applause, and Hugo gave no indication that he’d heard him.

When the last model returned to the wings, the master of ceremonies took centre stage, wearing a fabulous number of layers of turquoise mesh, unwalkably tall heels, and hair sculpted into something that belonged in a museum. When she spoke, her voice boomed around the room.

‘And now, the moment I know we’ve all been waiting for – the inspirational designer of all the fabulous clothing you’ve seen tonight – Marinette Agreste!’

The audience erupted into wild applause.

A spotlight circled the stage, finding Marinette and tracking her movements as she joined the MC. She wore a short, baby-pink dress that showed off her legs, and her hair had been pulled up, giving a better view of her gorgeous face.

Adrien’s heart caught, despite seeing her just this morning. It didn’t matter that they were edging towards forty. It didn’t matter that when her roots grew out, little strands of silver peeked out, or that her figure wasn’t exactly what it was before having children. So, the Ladybug suit would fit her differently now. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and nothing would ever, ever change that.

There was some kind of interview, probably pre-planned, but Adrien was so caught up in admiring her figure – digging his heels into the floor to keep from climbing the runway and hurling himself at her on the stage – that he didn’t hear much of the conversation until Marinette said his name.

‘– Adrien over there, with our eldest son, Hugo.’

Without thought, Adrien smoothed out his features. He knew when there were cameras – especially when Alya had one right in his face, for social media or one of her articles.

More than two decades on, he still knew the face to give. Hugo did not. He was staring at his phone. After some internal debate, Adrien decided this was not an appropriate time to kick him.

‘What an unexpected honour!’ the MC cried. ‘Adrien Agreste! Come on up here!’

Adrien’s expression wavered. Really? Now?

Nino elbowed him and grinned. Alya’s smile was enormous. Hugo didn’t so much as look up, oblivious to the spotlight capturing him.

Resigned to his fate, Adrien pinned on a smile and followed a security officer through the crowd, skirting the runway and climbing a few steps to join his wife. She took his hand, pressing it before waving at the audience. He waved too, going through the motions. The cameras kept flashing.

The MC shook her head in awe. ‘Adrien Agreste. I can’t believe we got you on a stage after all this time! Like father, like son, eh?’

Adrien blinked at her.

‘I mean, how elusive you became, after such a public career,’ the MC explained quickly. She had the grace to look embarrassed. She’d obviously forgotten Gabriel’s side-line in international terrorism.

Adrien did his best to laugh. ‘I see. Well – life happens!’

She laughed, too, a little too hard. ‘Do you have any plans to re-enter the industry?’

Thank goodness, an easy question to answer. ‘Never. All I want is to support my wife here. This is her time to shine, and I’m incredibly proud of her.’ He turned to her, surprised to see that her eyes were a little wet.

Smiling, Marinette lifted herself on her toes and kissed him. She started to pull back, maybe conscious that everyone was watching him – but he drew her in closer, kissing her a little longer.

 If he had to see himself on the front of all the papers again, that was the kind of photo he wanted.

The VIP after-party was held in a nearby hotel, where Adrien hung on Marinette’s arm while she introduced everyone to her colleagues on the show. He greeted everyone with trained politeness, trying not to worry about just how many good-looking men Marinette was surrounded by. Men who probably didn’t spend half their time covered in kid sick and flour.

It was an unkind thought. An unjustified thought. There was no way Marinette would ever be unfaithful.

Still, watching how easily she chatted with them, and hearing the way they made her laugh…he prayed they were all gay.

He fastened that smile on his face, noting the way Alya and Nino were slotting themselves right into Marinette’s new social circle. For whatever reason, he couldn’t think how to join the discussion. Words stuck in his throat, and he just didn’t know what to say.

Worse still, he didn’t really care what anyone said back.

He glanced at Hugo, who was scrolling through his phone, an island surrounded by allied forces. Maybe he had the right idea.

A voice speared through his thoughts, familiar and strange at once. ‘Marinette!’

The conversation didn’t so much stop as crash straight into the ground. Every head in the room turned in slow unison, Adrien’s mouth dropping open at the sight of….

Lila Rossi.

He stared at her. Ogled her, in fact. She looked…phenomenal. She was taller, especially in stilettos, and wore a fitted scarlet maxi dress – silk, from the look of it – with barely-there spaghetti straps and a deeply scooped neck that left little to the imagination. The skirt had a long slit up the side, allowing a glimpse of one long leg. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

Every man who’d been flirting joking with Marinette a second ago now gaped at the gate crasher, their jaws almost indenting the floor. Some of the women, too. And especially Hugo.

‘Lila?’ Marinette squeaked out the name like she’d just received news that she’d been fired from the show. And the house had burned down. And everyone she knew had died. And there was a meteor on a collision course with the Earth…which was being sucked into a black hole.

Before she could react, Lila was rushing over, forcing a hug on her. White with shock, Marinette hung in her arms.

Watching, Adrien couldn’t help but compare them. Lila was stunning, there was no question. Oozing with glamour, she brought to mind that old expression sex on legs. But Marinette was easily more beautiful.

He stepped into place beside his wife, drawing her back and linking arms with her again. Lila eased back and scanned him from head to toe, making him feel like he’d forgotten to put on clothes, despite wearing his most expensive suit.

‘Adrien and Marinette.’ She smiled like a cat eyeing up a mouse. ‘I can’t believe it. After all these years. I heard about your wedding, of course, ages ago. But being here, in person….’ She shook her head like she was having a personal encounter with one of the wonders of the modern world.

‘Why are you here?’ Marinette snapped.

Lila either didn’t notice Marinette’s tone or decided to ignore it. ‘Your first fashion showcase, Marinette. As soon as Alya told me, I just had to come. Getting tickets at the last second – especially for this quaint little party – wasn’t easy. But, you know….’ She gave a bashful little smile. ‘Being an ambassador has its perks.’

Marinette was now staring at Alya in a way Adrien hadn’t observed since they were in school. Like Alya had betrayed her.

Alya scratched the back of her head and looked askance. Ever the shield, Nino put an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders.

Lila launched herself at Alya, extricating her from Nino and hauling her into a tight hug. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’

Alya hugged her back, throwing a quick glance Marinette’s way. ‘You too, Li – I mean, Lila.’ When Lila released her, Alya turned to the others and explained. ‘Lila got in touch with me on social media, a few months ago.’

Marinette’s eyes were large enough to leave her face. It was easy to read the question on her tongue. And you didn’t think to tell me?

‘That’s amazing,’ Adrien said. A nice, non-committal response they could take however they liked.

It seemed to be his turn for a hug, because suddenly Lila’s arms were around him, pulling him away from Marinette. And was it his imagination, or were Lila’s hands a little…gropy?

He disentangled himself from her and took a step back – a step closer to his wife, whose jaw was set like she was restraining herself. He took her hand again and pressed it, not wanting her to worry.

Then again, it was nice to know she could still get jealous over him.

He cleared his throat. ‘So, Lila…did you say you’re an ambassador now? You mean, like your mother?’

‘That’s right.’ She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her leg once again carefully positioned to extend from that slit in her skirt. ‘You know, growing up, I was always travelling all over the place. It was so difficult to put down roots – to settle down and just make friends. But after enough of it, I realised it had shaped me. I’m a free spirit. The whole world is my home. So, I decided to follow my dear mother’s footsteps. It was especially important to me after she died of cancer.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Adrien said at the same time that Nino said, ‘Oh, Lila.’

Marinette said nothing.

Hugo was silent, too, his phone now forgotten and his gaze glued to Lila’s almost-visible chest.

‘Thank you,’ Lila said, her hand at her breast like she wanted to draw attention to her cleavage. ‘My mother was my ultimate hero – my inspiration in life. I bet like your mother is your hero.’ Her eyes were now on Hugo.

He blinked as everyone looked at him, waiting for an answer. ‘I, uh….’ He licked his lip and stared at his shoes.

Lila laughed softly, which only seemed to undo the boy more.

‘Are you in Paris long?’ Nino asked.

‘A few days,’ Lila said. ‘Then I need to go to Dubai and meet this prince….’ She tossed her head back and laughed. ‘What am I saying? You don’t want to hear about my boring old life!’

‘Are you kidding?’ Alya said. ‘We want to hear all about it!’

Adrien felt Marinette tense up against his side. He put an arm around her shoulder and held her close.

Lila scanned all their faces, as if appraising them, measuring the sincerity of the request. ‘Well, I don’t know about telling you all about it, but I can certainly catch you up with a few stories.’

Then she launched into the first of what was definitely more than a few.

In the taxi later, Adrien sat in the back with Hugo, while Marinette sat in the passenger seat up front. Hugo was looking at his phone again, his face aglow. Adrien drummed his fingers on the door, wondering what to say.

How was it that on a night like this, when everything should’ve been so right, so good, they were heading home in awkward silence?

He’d allowed himself a little fantasy, that morning. As soon as they got home, Hugo would probably seal himself in his room with his soundproofed headphones until he dropped off to sleep at who knew what hour, deaf to the world – and the twins were staying at Tom and Sabine’s. After the success of the show, Marinette would be buzzing. She’d want to celebrate.

With Adrien.

But now – thanks to Lila – there was no chance of that happening.

‘I can’t believe her,’ Marinette seethed from the front seat. ‘It’s my VIP party, and she just shows up like that? And Alya! She basically invited her – without even telling me! How is anyone even allowed to just get into a party like that at the last second, just because of their connections?’

Adrien didn’t comment on this. They’d been admitted into plenty of events themselves simply due to their connections. Being an Agreste had its advantages.

‘She genuinely seemed to want to catch up with us,’ he said.

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest in denial.

‘She asked all about your work,’ he said.

‘In between the Thousand and One Tales of Lila Rossi.’

He grinned. ‘She does like the sound of her own voice. I’m not arguing that.’

She twisted to look into the backseat. ‘She hasn’t changed, Adrien. She’s still the same storyteller she always was.’

‘You mean she was lying?’

‘Of course. All that name-dropping? Come on, Adrien. As if she’s really met all those people.’

They were moving into uncomfortable territory. ‘I don’t know. She’s an ambassador, now. I think she really has met those people.’

‘But you don’t know, do you.’ She didn’t state this as a question. ‘And you don’t know just how much she’s exaggerated.’

‘Um.’

Hugo spoke up. ‘She’s not lying. She has her own Wikipedia page. And if you do an image search for her, there are, like, a billion photos of her with, like, everyone.’

Adrien turned to him. So that’s what Hugo had been looking at on his phone. God, he have some kind of crush? Lila was more than twice his age. She could probably eat him whole.

‘May I?’ Adrien held out his hand for the phone.

Hugo shrugged like the whole thing was boring, then handed over the phone before looking out his window.

Adrien was faced with a screen full of photos of Lila. A bit like his old phone collection of Ladybug photos.

Well, there was nothing wrong with having a teenage fantasy. It wasn’t like anything would come of it.

He held up the phone for Marinette to see. ‘All true.’

She looked like she wanted to burn up the phone with her eyes, then flumped back, facing forward again.

They pulled up in front of their building, and Adrien paid and thanked the taxi driver as they all piled out of the car. Leading the way into their apartment, Adrien unlocked the front door, allowing Marinette through first.

‘I can’t believe we have to see her again tomorrow at Alya and Nino’s dinner,’ she said as she stomped in. Hugo followed in silence.

Adrien went in after them. ‘She’s an old friend.’

‘She was never my friend.’

‘I know. And you know I supported you through all of that. It’s just…it’s been years, Marinette. People change.’

She smoothed down her dress, painfully drawing attention to her bare legs. ‘You’re right. People do change. The old you would’ve seen through her. Maybe you’ve just spent so many years with children that you’ve forgotten what adults are like.’

Adrien flinched like he’d been slapped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hugo go rigid, his eyes wide.

Marinette’s eyes grew just as large. He could see her replaying the last minute of their argument through her mind. Maybe wishing for the rabbit or the snake miraculous, so she could take back what she’d just said. ‘Adrien, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’ She reached for him.

He took a step back. ‘No, you…you really did.’

She pressed her lips together, maybe sensing there was no right thing for her to say now.

‘Hugo, go to bed,’ she finally said.

‘I’m not tired,’ he said.

She didn’t even look at him, her tone sharper. ‘I said go to bed.’

Hugo glanced at Adrien, then scurried down the hallway to his room.

Marinette. That’s who he listens to. Never me.

Exhausted, Adrien headed for the kitchen, where he started making himself tea. Real tea, with caffeine.

Marinette followed him in. ‘I really am sorry, Adrien.’

He concentrated on the tea-making process – all that zen stuff the Guardians had taught him, years ago.

Just focus on the boiling water. Not on your wife, who’s completely sussed you out.

Because that was the problem – she was right. He had lost the ability to understand adult company. It just wasn’t fair to say it like that, because she didn’t recognise the reason. All of it was for her. For her dreams.

The water. The rolling bubbles. Focus – focus.

‘Why are you making that now?’ she asked, her voice tentative. ‘You’ll be up all night.’

‘I need to work on my paper.’

‘…your paper? I thought….’

He whirled around, pinning her with his stare. ‘You thought what, Marinette?’ It wasn’t even a challenge. He was totally drained.

She shrugged awkwardly and pressed her forefingers together, a throwback gesture to when she was a teenager. ‘I guess I thought maybe we could….’

Her suggestion trailed off there. She’d never been good at saying these things out loud. She wasn’t the type to share her fantasies. Not like him.

‘Yeah, I thought that too,’ he said, ‘but somehow I’m not in the mood anymore.’ The kettle finished boiling, and he poured the water. He was impatient to drink it, to get the caffeine flowing.

‘You really are just going to work?’ She sounded like she didn’t believe him.

He nodded. ‘I have a paper due in less than a week – on the effect of absent mothers on child development.’ It sounded like a cheap shot, but it was true.

‘Oh, I….’ She didn’t finish her sentence.

She didn’t have to because he knew how it went. She hadn’t known. Hadn’t known about his paper, even though he knew everyone she worked with, every outfit she’d designed for the TV show, every inspiration for every tiny button she’d sewn onto every piece of fabric.

He took his tea and pushed past her, desperate to get to the living room, to his books. Marinette followed behind, but he refused to look at her. If he weakened, he’d only feel small for it later.

She lingered there, watching him. Then, finally, she went down the hall. He exhaled when he heard the click of their bedroom door close. Tonight, it would be her who climbed into that bed alone.

The thought didn’t give him satisfaction.

Forcing back tears, he opened his laptop and brought up his half-written essay – trying not to think too hard about the relevance of the topic.

Chapter Text

Adrien hunched at his desk, poring over piles of colourful brochures. Figuring out his next steps after collège was even harder than he’d expected. There were so many choices to be made, each one the first step in a different journey. Which one did he want to travel?

Maybe he’d just been staring at the leaflets too long, but the words no longer looked real. They’d become a jumble of letters that didn’t mean anything.

He glanced at his bed, where Plagg sat with his own reading material – the latest issue of Gentleman’s Camembert. Plagg never had trouble knowing who he was or what he wanted. Maybe he had simple pleasures, and maybe he could be obnoxious, but at least he was wholly and unapologetically himself.

Why can’t more of that rub off on me when I’m out of costume?

‘What do you think, Plagg? What should I do?’

‘Don’t do anything technical,’ Plagg said without looking up.

Adrien raised his head. ‘What?’

‘You’re an action person. Ladybug’s the one who thinks things through.’ Plagg flicked the page of his magazine.

‘Hey! I can plan things.’

‘You can. But do you? Think about it, kid. All those times you saved the day – did you really think about it? Or did you simply act?’

Adrien frowned in consideration. Plagg had a point. Sure, there were brief moments of thought, but he never dwelled. Never spent ages agonising over the possible outcomes when faced with Cat Blanc or Monarch or any of the akuma victims.

‘I like to think I work on instinct,’ he said.

‘Instinct. Action. Whatever you call it, you’re not a scientist or a mathematician, no matter how well you do on tests.’

‘Then what am I?’

Plagg sighed, looking at him at last. ‘Oh, Adrien. After all you’ve been through, you’re still trying to answer the same question.’

The statement made Adrien go cold. God, Plagg was right. No matter how much time passed, he hadn’t moved forward. Maybe he never would.

As Plagg returned to his magazine, Adrien looked down at the scatterings of literature on his desk. All his friends had already chosen their courses and submitted their applications. It must be nice to know exactly who you were and what you wanted to do with your life.

Pushing aside the leaflets, he pulled out his phone and checked the time. Still a quarter of an hour until his weekly video call with Felix. But he couldn’t wait.

Felix answered on the third ring. He appeared to be lying on his bed, a book in one hand. It was hard to make out the title.

‘You’re early,’ he said. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Is that how you answer every call?’

The phone shook and went blurry as Felix walked across the room, settling down at his desk. ‘Apologies. Hello, Adrien. I’m flattered that you were obviously desperate to speak to me again. Still, I sense something’s amiss.’

Adrien smiled a little, though it quickly faded. ‘I guess I’m – I’m feeling overwhelmed by all these decisions I have to make.’

‘Is this about your Baccalauréat application?’

He nodded. ‘It isn’t as simple as doing the Baccalauréat Général. I still have to choose a pathway. There are three and…I have no idea which is right for me.’

‘Are they that different?’

He glanced at the brochures across the desk. ‘There’s some overlap. Some classes are mandatory, like French language and literature, and philosophy in the final year. And I think no matter what I do, there’s an element of science.’

‘Which you’re good at,’ Felix said.

Adrien leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s the trouble. I’m good at most subjects.’

‘Humble, too.’

‘It’s not vanity. I had no choice but to be good at everything. Otherwise, Gabriel would’ve, I don’t know….’

‘Tied you up in a cage with bears?’ Felix suggested.

Despite everything, Adrien’s mouth twitched with the beginnings of laughter. ‘Something like that.’

‘I see.’ Felix pursed his lips. ‘So, you’re having trouble choosing a pathway because you’re just so bloody good at everything –’

‘That isn’t quite what I was –’

‘– but you’re not sure what calls to you.’

His intuition made Adrien go still. Somehow, Felix always saw through him. Always knew what mirror to hold up to help him recognise himself.

‘Yes,’ Adrien breathed. ‘Exactly. I mean, even just the word pathway…. It’s more than just my education. It’s my route through life. If I don’t get this right, that one mistake might determine everything else that happens to me.’

Felix arched an eyebrow. ‘Everything?’

‘Everything. Maybe someday, I’ll be, I don’t know, forty, and I’ll wake up one day, lost with no idea who I am or where I’m headed – and all of it pivots on this moment.’

‘You don’t think you’re being a little dramatic?’

‘I absolutely think I’m being very dramatic. But what if I’m right?’

Felix crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Adrien. If Gabriel Agreste could get a second chance, surely you can too.’

Again, his words pulled Adrien up short. He stared at him through the screen. ‘You really think so?’ It came out as a plea.

‘I really think so.’ Felix nodded for reinforcement. ‘Whether you’re forty or eighty, it’s never too late to change tracks.’

Adrien narrowed his eyes, studying his brother. ‘When did you get so optimistic?’

‘I guess you’ve rubbed off on me. Now, what are these pathways you have to choose from?’

‘Economics and Social Studies – Science – or Humanities.’

‘Humanities,’ Felix said immediately. ‘I don’t know why you’re even confused about this. Though, I daresay that’s a limited choice. I wonder when schools will begin to introduce options for becoming a stage magician.’

Adrien finally laughed for real. ‘I knew there was something missing from the brochures.’

Felix laughed, too, loosening his arms. ‘I might need to join a circus for a while, first. One of those travelling ones that tour all over Europe and never spend more than a fortnight in the same place.’

‘Would you wear shiny suits?’

‘And sequins. And all my friends would be misfits, just like me.’

‘I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.’

Felix snorted. ‘No doubt she’d send the police for me.’

‘You’d be all over the news.’

‘Indeed. Child prodigy graduates from Oxford at thirteen. Becomes clown instead of politician.’

Adrien laughed harder. ‘I can’t imagine you in a circus, Fe.’

‘No?’ Felix looked up in thought. ‘Perhaps not. But I think it would be good for me. A kind of…forced experience of unravelling. I’m quite fond of cream pies, too.’

Now, Adrien was nearly choking. He had to take slow deep breaths before he could speak again. ‘Just make sure you don’t unravel so much that you end up nothing but a pile of tangled thread.’

Felix’s mouth stretched into a broad grin. ‘What a marvellous metaphor. Perhaps you should become a poet.’

‘I think that pays about as much as clowning.’

‘A pity. But you don’t really need to make money,’ Felix said.

‘But I want to.’

‘Yes – to prove yourself when you marry Marinette and build a life with her.’ Felix gave a deep nod.

‘Are you laughing at me, again?’

‘Far from it. I’m reminding you that you do, in fact, know who you want to be and what you want to do. The educational pathway you choose will not affect the vision of love you carry with you.’

Adrien swallowed. ‘You’re very wise for a circus clown.’

Felix shook his head. ‘The wisest of men are always fools.’

They shared a smile.

By the end of their call, a weight had lifted from Adrien’s shoulders. He glanced at Plagg, who’d moved on from staring at photographs of cheese to eating the real thing.

‘What do you think, Plagg? Humanities?’

His kwami nodded approval. ‘Think of all your sappy poetry.’

Adrien rolled his eyes – but maybe Plagg had a point. Adrien had started up quite a collection of poetry since falling in love, particularly after the defeat of Monarch.

His father.

That weight started to settle on him again, but he shook it away. ‘I don’t know if I’m the sort of person who could spend all my time writing poetry. But I suppose I could just enrol on the humanities stream and see where it takes me.’

He grabbed one of the humanities leaflets, reading from it. ‘An emphasis on language and literature, history, geography and arts, with a focus on analysis, synthesis and critical thinking.’

‘Sounds perfect for you. Now, to sort out my problem. I’m getting more cheese.’

Adrien pushed himself to his feet. ‘Uh-uh. You’ve had enough for now.’

Plagg’s eyes widened in horror. ‘You just want to use me for your own needs!’

Adrien grinned. ‘You know me so well. In my jacket, Plagg. I suddenly fancy an evening stroll.’

Cat waited for Ladybug at their usual spot on the rooftop facing the Eiffel Tower. By now, the moon had risen in the sky, partly obscured by clouds, which glowed an eerie blue. The tower itself was illuminated in shifting colours – red, green, blue, purple, and red again. The air had that smell to it, like it might rain soon.

He kicked his legs over the edge of the building. High up there, it was easy to pretend Adrien Agreste didn’t exist. And if he didn’t exist, he didn’t need to make any decisions about the future. Up here on the roof, there was only this moment. A little like standing in the time burrow.

Ladybug landed near him, drawing his gaze. She sat close beside him, her thigh touching his. Already he felt better.

‘What was the urgent need to see me?’ she asked. ‘Not that you ever need a reason.’

He kissed her cheek. ‘I’m having an identity crisis.’

‘Again?’

He laughed. ‘I’ve been trying to decide what pathway to take at lycée.’

‘Humanities. You’re not a scientist.’

‘That’s what Plagg said.’

‘Good to know you’re taking career advice from the kwami of destruction.’

Although she meant it as a joke, he couldn’t bring himself to smile.

‘Oh no.’ She took his hand. ‘I know that look. It’s your sad look. What’s on your mind, kitty?’

He shrugged softly, hating every moment of this – the constant feeling that he was being dramatic again. That there was always something going on with him. ‘It’s just…this is the kind of thing I should be discussing with my parents…you know?’

She tilted her head, her forehead creased with compassion.

‘When does any of this stop being hard?’ he asked.

She looked deeply into his eyes, perhaps searching for some clue to what she could say to make him feel better. ‘I can’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through – and I’d never want to. I never want to make you feel like I’m patronising you. Your pain is your own.’

‘O-okay….’

‘But I…sort of understand how you might be feeling.’

‘You – you do?’

She nodded softly. ‘Soon, all the decisions will be on us. Of course, my parents will be there for me – and I think they’ll be there for you, too. And you’ll have the Lahiffes. But ultimately, the future’s in our hands…and it’s terrifying.’ She whispered those last two words.

He squeezed her hand. ‘But whatever happens…you always have the answers. Even as Marinette, everyone knows this. That’s why you were elected class representative two years in a row.’

‘And that just makes it so much worse. There are all these expectations, and – I might not be able to live up to them…you know?’

He knew. He’d lived with his own set of expectations his whole life, until Gabriel had left the world.

She gazed out at the Eiffel Tower, now lit up in blue, like the clouds passing behind – like the beautiful blue of her beautiful eyes that followed him into his best dreams at night.

Drawing out of his grasp, she scooted back from the edge of the roof and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘You know, when I met Cat Blanc…that was a version of the future. And it was my job to stop that future from happening. Or – or yours. But this future…I can’t stop it. I can’t even pause it for a little while.’

‘You could use the rabbit miraculous.’

‘Still – sooner or later, I’d need to step out of the burrow and keep living. No matter what we do, the future will always be there, waiting for us.’

He looked down at his hands. ‘Yeah.’

Silence stretched between them, drawing attention to the noise of the city – the city they’d taken a vow to protect.

Maybe having the same thoughts, Ladybug said, ‘How do you think all this Ladybug and Cat Noir business will work, when we’re older?’

‘…what do you mean?’

She turned to face him. ‘How do we keep doing it when we have jobs and a…a family?’ She whispered the word, as if scared of what he would say. Even after almost a year together, she still seemed to struggle with speech.

‘A family.’ He turned the words over in his mind, counting the syllables, imagining the letters written down and tracing their shapes with his mental eye.

‘You do want one someday…don’t you?’

A vision filled his mind – the same vision that always came to him when he tried to imagine becoming a father someday. A vision of becoming Gabriel.

He shifted in place, that familiar chill in his blood. ‘It’s not that I don’t want one. It’s just….’

Her cheeks coloured under her mask, and she put up her hands. ‘I’m sorry. What am I doing? We have years to work this out. Of course, you don’t want to think about this now.’

‘No, it’s – it’s not that. It’s more….’ He clenched his fists as he fought to find the words. ‘You have everything planned out, right down to the hamster. And I get it. In or out of the costume, you’re Ladybug – and I love you for it. I’m just – I’m not a planner. Plagg says I’m not even a thinker. When I try to imagine this future that’s coming for us….’

He broke off there, hearing how he sounded. Like the future was some kind of monster with teeth, waiting to devour him one day.

‘Listen.’ Again, she held one of his clawed hands. ‘Forget the family, okay? Forget all of it. Maybe – maybe I plan too much. I mean, who knows what’s going to happen over the next five years, right?’

He blinked as pieces slotted into place. ‘You were planning on starting a family at twenty?’

‘Um. No.’ She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I also didn’t plan for Emma at twenty-five and Louis at thirty.’

He blinked some more. ‘Wait. What are we naming the first one?’

‘Hugo.’

He choked back a laugh.

‘You don’t like the names?’ She sounded genuinely concerned.

‘They’re fine. They’re beautiful. And the kids will be beautiful too, just like their mother.’

It seemed that was the right thing to say. He knew it as soon as he saw the way her pupils dilated before her eyes softened in that lazy way that invited him to kiss her. Maybe Felix was right. He might not have a career plan, but he knew exactly how he wanted to spend his time.

He moved in closer, so their knees touched. ‘Twenty might be a little young. Could we push the five-yearly baby schedule back a little? Give us both time to finish a degree, maybe, and find our feet?’

‘All of it is negotiable,’ she said. ‘I value your opinion.’

He laughed. ‘Only you, M’lady. Only you.’

Grinning, he leaned in closer – but she got there first, kissing him hard. Surprise rendered him immobile, simply sitting while she climbed into his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. Then his body woke up, and he slid his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. Ladybug’s light, floral scent enveloped him, her lips warm against his.

Frustration swelled in his chest. He so wanted to feel her with his actual fingers – but he also didn’t want to de-transform and end up with Plagg watching them. Listening to them. Commenting on them. Whatever the future held, there definitely needed to be some discussion about when it was appropriate to take off their miraculous.

All at once, it hit him. Someday, there – there really would be such moments. No more sneaking out. No more hiding on rooftops when their parental figures thought they were in bed. They would live in a house that was all their own, where they made the rules.

The thought ignited him, and he gently fell backwards on the rooftop, pulling her down with him. He ran one of his hands down her back, as far as he could reach. She made a noise he’d never heard from her before – a noise he would gladly hear again. Encouraged, he trailed kisses down her cheek.

‘Cat,’ she whispered.

He didn’t answer, his lips finding her neck. Finding spots that made her make more new noises

‘Adrien.’

‘H’m.’ He pulled her hair from its ribbons, letting it spill over his face.

‘What is this?’ She sounded like she did when she got a lucky charm – when she was trying to work out what to do with it.

Between kisses, he said, ‘I think – this is – the kind of thing that – leads to – all those kids you want.’

He kissed her collarbone, almost yelping as she put her hand on his chest and pushed him away.

She pulled herself up enough to look down at him, her breast rising and falling with her ragged breath – every curve of her body appetising in that skintight costume. When she spoke, her voice was rough. ‘Adrien, I’m serious.’

He dragged his fingers through her hair, framing it around her face, haloed by the moon. ‘You don’t like it?’

She swallowed, perhaps shoving down her own desire, glittering in her brilliant eyes. ‘I didn’t say that.’

He stared up at her, hearing the words she wasn’t saying. Accepting that, whatever his body wanted, this wasn’t the time.

With a resigned sigh, he pulled her back down and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder.

Cradled like that, her ear pressed against his chest, just over his heart. ‘It’s racing,’ she murmured.

‘So is yours.’ He could feel it through his stomach.

He counted slowly backwards from ten, trying to calm his breathing. Trying to memorise every sensation while simultaneously attempting to focus on something else. Anything that wasn’t her body pressed against his.

‘Adrien, you’re…I can….’

‘What?’

‘…I can feel you.’

He let out a short bark of laughter. ‘Just…put up with me here, okay?’

She raised herself onto her elbow, looking down at him. ‘Put up with you?’

‘With my…enthusiasm.’

Her mouth curved into a teasing smile. ‘I’ve been doing that ever since I met you, kitty.’ She continued to gaze at him, her blue boring into his green.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

Her tongue flicked over her upper lip, making him want to kiss her again. God, everything made him want to kiss her again. ‘I was thinking that I…I feel the same way. Just – not tonight.’

His heartbeat quickened again. Not tonight. The words carried the sort of promise that would no doubt keep him awake all night.

She lay back down with him, he wove his fingers through her hair, coiling the thick locks around his claws before letting them spill back down.

Felix was right. There weren’t just three pathways. There was a fourth, and it was with her.

He closed his eyes, allowing his imagination to take him down the road that led to that future. One where every night he’d lie in bed with her in his arms, her head to his heart just like this, beating in time with his own. They’d stay up late, speaking into the darkness – sharing their stories and wondering how it was possible to know someone so long, yet still manage to surprise each other.

Marinette would have her fashion career, and he would do whatever the hell he decided to do. One way or another, they’d find their way. They’d have all those kids, and he’d somehow figure out how to be the father he never had himself – the father he always wished he had. Every evening, they would have the kind of family meals he had with the Lahiffes, and they would blossom in love.

The years would pass, and the children would move out and start beautiful families of their own, an endless chain of love extending into eternity. And through it all, Adrien and Marinette would always be a team – learning together, growing together, and working together at whatever challenges were hurled their way. They’d laugh together, cry together, hurt together, heal together, grow old together.

Together, together, together….

She made a soft noise, snuggling deeper into his embrace. Maybe she was imagining the same things.

He smiled, squeezing her close, slipping further into the fantasy. Someday, there would be no boundaries between them. Someday, they’d share more than he’d ever shared with anyone – not just their bodies but their whole lives and hearts.

There was no reason to be afraid – because this was who he was. This was the future that awaited him.

Chapter Text

Adrien stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining himself. His eyes were underlined with darkness from pulling a near-all-nighter with his paper, followed by restless sleep on the sofa while the sun shone outside.

Sometime in the night, he’d heard their bedroom door open, and his breath shortened, hoping Marinette would come for him – force him to swallow his pride and go to bed with her. Never mind their fight after her VIP party. Never mind Lila. Nothing mattered but them.

The sofa really wasn’t long enough for his height. His feet hung off the edge. He was turning for perhaps the fiftieth time, when he heard footsteps creeping down the hall, possibly into the storage room. Marinette, surely – as if she were searching for some reminder of what they once had.

He forced back tears and rolled onto his side, prepared to give himself up to every kind of exhaustion, when he heard Marinette let out a sharp cry. His body seized up, ready to run to her, when he heard her speak.

‘Hugo!’ Then a banging sound he couldn’t identify.

Then murmuring. He strained to hear, but they were too quiet, probably hoping not to disturb him.

Finally, more footsteps, two sets, back down the hall and into their respective bedrooms. When the doors clicked shut, the last of his hope abandoned him.

You could go to her, you know, a small voice reprimanded in his head. But he couldn’t get his body to move, and then sleep claimed him.

The good news was that he had completed a full first draft – twenty thousand words citing studies and injecting his own insights in the subject of the developmental delays of children who had been left behind by absent parents, particularly mothers. Not only did such absence impact mental and emotional health, but it also tended to result in lower cognitive and academic test scores. Such children had lower rates of university enrolment, as well.

He supposed he had Gabriel to thank for pushing him in school, and the Lahiffes for supporting him through lycée. But it was not lost on him that his education had been a struggle. Without the fear factor – which, being honest, had lingered with him long after Gabriel had left the world – he would have easily backslid academically. And although he’d gone on to university, he’d then promptly run away for a year and never used his degree.

‘I’m a cliché,’ he murmured to his reflection as he wrapped a tie around his neck, avoiding eye contact with himself.

‘A cliché?’ Marinette’s voice surprised him as she entered the ensuite.

His fingers trembled on the silk of the tie, struggling with the knot for the first time in his tie-wearing life. ‘Just something I was…thinking about while…doing my paper.’ He darted a glance at her reflection before focusing again on the tie.

In his periphery, she leaned against the bathroom door, watching him in the mirror. ‘I was waiting for that.’

‘…for what?’ He undid the messy knot and made a second attempt.

‘For you to start applying your research to yourself. That’s…what you do.’

‘…it is?’

She nodded.

‘I didn’t take up this course to psychoanalyse myself.’

‘You sure about that? I bet a lot of other people did.’

‘I can assure you no one else is paying all that money for the pleasure of psychoanalysing me.’

She laughed and peeled herself off the wall, slinking over to him. Before he knew it, her arms were sliding around his waist, making his fingers catch on the silk again. She rested her head on his back, and he finished the knot before turning slowly around to face her, catching her hands.

The twins were with Tom and Sabine a second night, almost like a holiday. Tonight, even Hugo had been shipped over to their grandparents’. At his request, in fact. A last-minute decision, probably to escape the energy his parents were putting into the house.

‘I really am sorry,’ Marinette said. ‘It was unfair of me to say…what I said. I know how much you do around the house and with the kids, all so I can….’ She drew in a long breath, then let it out. ‘I can’t believe I let Lila get to me like that, after all these years, but…well, I did. And as I was lying alone in our bed all night, I just kept thinking you were right. People…people change.’

He probed her eyes for her meaning, certain they were not just talking about Lila.

He swallowed back all the frustrated words lodged in his throat. He’d never been good at staying angry – at anyone, but especially her. She was apologising. That was all that mattered. ‘Thank you for…for saying that. And if she turns out to be just as bad as she used to be….’

Marinette shook her head. ‘No, Adrien. I can’t make assumptions like that. If she turns out to be just as bad…you’ll still be right. I at least need to give her that chance.’

He felt his shoulders loosen and fall. ‘I missed you.’ He didn’t add last night, because he missed her all the time.

And she knew it. ‘I’ve missed you so much, too, Adrien. You and the kids. This job is just….’

Now it was his turn to shake his head. ‘Don’t you dare apologise for that one. I couldn’t be happier that you’re making your dreams come true.’

‘I thought you didn’t lie,’ she teased.

‘I’m not lying. I’m…maybe less happy about the toll it’s been taking on our relationship. But that doesn’t take away from my happiness that you’re doing what you always wanted. I’m so proud of you, Marinette. And we’ll find our way through this, just like we’ve found our way through everything else…right?’

He’d meant to make one of those reassuring speeches he was known for, but it came out as a plea. He was the one in need of reassurance.

After so long waiting, she gave it.

She pushed herself onto her toes and kissed him. It had been so long since she had initiated anything that he didn’t respond at first. Then he pulled her against him and kissed her back, months of longing marking her mouth. One of his hands threaded her hair, while the other moved down her back, finding its way into her skirt.

He braced himself for the inevitable rejection. Now was the moment she would push him off. Give him some excuse about how they would make themselves late to Alya and Nino’s anniversary dinner. But her fingers were making quick work of the buttons on his shirt and swiftly undoing that tie. Then her lips were on his chest, and he groaned.

‘Not in the bathroom,’ he made out in a strangled voice.

She laughed and pulled him into their adjoining bedroom, pushing him onto the bed, where he lay watching her pull off her clothes with the kind of haste that told him she also felt it had been too long. Maybe she’d spent all night thinking about this while he was in the living room writing about absent mothers.

He longed for the rabbit miraculous – to return to this moment over and over again. To stand in the burrow, outside of time, and pause this image of Marinette. Study her. Memorise every tiny mark and shape of her body.

She climbed onto the bed, on top of him, and pulled him out of the rest of his clothes. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t been around enough,’ she murmured. ‘You must feel unloved.’

It was hard to feel anything except her, right now.

He reached for her, and she slid down on him. She was so warm, like coming home. It still wasn’t enough, and he pulled her down to kiss her again, to press her body against his and hold her close, keeping his eyes open through every moment. Committing it to memory. Trying to hold onto it as long as he could.

They were indeed late to dinner. The last ones, in fact, to arrive at the restaurant where Alya and Nino had booked a table for eight.

The anniversary party was a kind of reunion party, too. Alya had managed to gather several of their old school friends together. There were Rose, Juleka, Luka, Zoe – and Lila, who had been carefully seated at the opposite end of the table from the seats left open for Adrien and Marinette.

As they approached, Adrien kissed Marinette’s cheek and whispered in her ear, ‘People change – remember?’

She smiled up at him, revealing gritted teeth, and they took their seats.

Apart from Lila, everyone in attendance knew they had once been Ladybug and Cat Noir. They all knew what Adrien was. If not for that pesky last-minute guest, it would have been an evening of being able to be completely themselves.

‘It’s so good you could actually join us!’ Rose gushed. Even pushing forty, her voice was still high-pitched, and she was just as excitable as ever. She was also still pint-sized, but with a surprising ferocity that made her one of the most intimidating lawyers in Paris.

‘Yeah, you actually had some time off that crazy schedule of yours?’ Zoe said to Marinette.

‘I have a ton of work to do,’ Marinette said. ‘But sometimes you have to clear a day for just living, right?’

Adrien’s mind latched onto two words from that sentence – ‘a day’ – and his heart lurched. It was just this day. Tomorrow, they would return to their old routine. Tomorrow, she would be out of reach again. Tomorrow, he would –

‘Where are the kids?’ Juleka asked. She’d grown bolder with age and spoke clearly now. She showed her face, too – necessary for a TV presenter. She was beautiful.

‘With my parents,’ Marinette said.

‘How many children do you have?’ Lila asked from the other end of the table. She looked stunning, again. Overdressed, compared to the others. Or, perhaps underdressed was a better word for it, because as at the afterparty, she looked in danger of spilling out of her top, and there was undoubtedly more skin on show under the table.

Marinette stared at her former rival, then smiled like it caused her deep physical pain. ‘Three. Hugo is fourteen, and Emma and Louis are six. They’re twins.’

‘Twins!’ Lila clapped her hands like this was the most wonderful news she’d ever heard.

‘What about you, Lila?’ Rose asked. ‘Do you have any kids?’

Lila shook her head. ‘Not me. I wouldn’t want to spoil my figure.’ She flashed Marinette a meaningful look before taking a delicate sip from her wine glass.

Marinette turned a shade that matched the wine.

‘Babies never ruined Marinette’s figure,’ Adrien jumped in, squeezing her hand.

Murmurs of agreement rounded the table.

Pregnancy had, in fact, changed her figure. Shifted her proportions. Forever left a small paunch under her bellybutton. But ruined or spoiled? Not a chance.

He shifted pleasantly as his imagination took him back to the way she’d looked before they had reluctantly redressed and headed out for dinner – and he looked down at the table before anyone could see the visions in his eyes.

The waiter came to take their orders, then conversation resumed. Adrien was vaguely aware of Lila asking each of their friends what they’d been up to over the years – about Zoe’s latest acting role, Luka’s recent tour, and how Nino’s next album was shaping up.

Adrien and Marinette were the only ones at that table with children. Zoe and Luka were each still single – long-term relationships and kids didn’t mesh well with their careers. Rose and Juleka had never made the decision to adopt. And Alya and Nino…. Well, he supposed they just didn’t want children. Unless….

It wasn’t the sort of thing you just brought up – especially at their age. You didn’t just say, ‘Hey, why haven’t you had kids?’ You never knew what the answer would be. But they didn’t bring it up either, and they never seemed like they were unhappy about it, so it was probably a choice they didn’t need their friends to nag them about.

But with Marinette out working all the time, it meant Adrien was the only one at that table who spent most of his day with children.

She nudged him under the table, and he caught her look, the one that said she’d just read every thought in his head.

He focused on straightening his napkin on his lap, just as two waiters returned with their food.

Food was good. It provided a focal point while he listened to Lila reel out some story about one of her recent visits to Dubai, and some famous person she’d had lunch with. Luka, of all people – of all people! – had met this person too, and they began comparing stories.

Adrien drained his wine glass without noticing, hoping maybe he could encase himself in an aura of invisibility, so that no one called on him.

Called on him. Like this was a classroom and he was a small child, scared to speak up.

It seemed he was not good at shaping his aura, because Lila said his name.

He looked up slowly and plastered that smile on his face, feeling slightly tipsy. ‘Yes?’

‘I’ve heard all about what everyone else is up to. What about you?’

‘Um.’ Every pair of eyes was on him now. ‘Not…not much!’ He laughed awkwardly.

‘Oh, don’t be modest,’ Lila scolded. ‘Adrien Agreste, not up to much? That’s ridiculous. Tell me all about your fascinating life.’

‘Um.’

Marinette was right. He had forgotten how to talk to people his own age. Because what would he talk to them about? His ever-growing tea collection? His latest fight with Hugo? Going back to school in his thirties? Even his research papers were about children and parents.

Marinette rescued him, just as she had rescued him so many times as Ladybug. ‘Adrien’s working on a master’s degree. He’s going to be a children’s therapist.’ Her voice was a shield, deflecting the threat at the other end of the table.

‘Children’s therapist!’ Lila repeated. ‘That’s incredible. I just knew you were destined for something big.’

Adrien flushed. ‘Yeah, well.’ He shoved down a mouthful of food, too fast, nearly choking himself.

‘And it’s so brave of you to return to school at your age,’ Lila added.

He reached for the wine, disappointed when he remembered his glass was empty. Marinette re-filled it, and he forced himself not to down it in one go.

Luka shot him a sympathetic look and changed the subject. Everyone ate and chattered away, until Nino got their attention by standing, his glass held up high. ‘I’d like to make a toast.’

The others cooed in anticipation.

He looked down Alya, his eyes shining. ‘I can’t even tell you the love I have for this woman right here. She’s given me the happiest twenty-three years of my life.’

They shared a long look that probably belonged in a private room, before he turned to the others at the table.

‘And so have all of you. You know, I spent a few years living in a mansion with my boy Adrien over here.’ He pointed at Adrien, who gave a small smile in return. ‘And let me tell you, the mansion and all the fancy stuff inside didn’t mean a thing. True wealth is friendship – love – and that’s what we have. Even our other friends who couldn’t be with us tonight because life has just taken us all in different directions – they’re still in our hearts, and that’s more valuable than gold, dudes.’

Alya patted his arm. ‘Babe, how much have you had to drink?’

‘I’m always drunk when I’m with you,’ he returned. ‘Drunk on love.’

She groaned, and he sat back down, planting a kiss on her mouth, which was greeted by a great deal of whistling around the table. Cameras clicked. More photos for their social media pages.

‘Nino’s right,’ Lila spoke up, leaning forward to give them all a view of her cleavage. ‘Love is the most valuable commodity in the world. What would we be without it? Right, Adrien?’

He blinked, startled at being singled out for that question, and even more surprised when she winked at him. All he knew was Marinette must have noticed, because suddenly she was grabbing him and kissing him too.

There were more whistles and more cameras. Maybe they could post sickening loved-up photos on social media, too.

She pulled away and flashed Lila a look that plainly read, I win. Though it was hard to know just what she’d won or what game they’d been playing.

Lila smiled and gave a soft nod, before turning to Luka to ask if he’d ever met any of the French football team – because she had met them all.

On the way home, Marinette seethed over Lila like she had the night before. Except this time, she’d had a fair amount to drink – as had Adrien, which meant she talked more and he listened more.

‘I know, I know, probably every word of it is true now, but the way she just talks and talks and talks like anyone cares.’ Her arms were flying through the air, gesticulating wildly.

They got out of the cab and Adrien let them into the flat.

‘It was supposed to be Alya and Nino’s night – like it was my night last night. But both nights became Lila’s night and now it’s….’ She trailed off, staring around their living room like she had no idea how she’d got there.

It was okay if Marinette hated Lila. She would pass out of their lives soon enough and they’d never have to see her again.

Adrien stumbled over and took her in his arms. ‘We’re still alone.’

‘We are,’ she said very seriously.

Then there was some frantic movement as he shoved his books and laptop off the sofa, not caring how they landed on the floor, and pulled her down so she was sitting on him on the sofa and he could kiss her properly.

‘So, the living room’s okay?’ she said as he worked at her throat.

‘The living room is very okay.’

This time he took his time.

After, they lay together on the floor, her head in the crook of his arm and his fingers in her hair, syncopating heartbeats. When he laughed, she said, ‘What’s so funny?’

‘I was just thinking how much time we spent sneaking around to do this kind of thing without our parents finding out. Then we had kids and have to sneak around so they don’t find out. When do we get to just…do what we want, without worrying about getting caught?’

‘The danger is part of the fun,’ she mumbled into his chest. She sounded on the verge of falling asleep. That would have been fine, except Tom was due to drop off the kids in the morning, and he had a spare key. Visions of Weredad came to mind.

‘Come to bed with me,’ he whispered.

When she didn’t answer, he nudged her back awake and she blinked in confusion. He laughed softly and helped her to her feet, gathering their things and guiding her down the hall to their room, where she climbed into the bed next to him.

He pulled her back against him, his fingers still playing with her hair. He’d always loved her hair.

He thought she was asleep, when she murmured, ‘I love you, kitty.’

His breath caught. It had been a long time since she’d called him that. ‘I love you too, M’lady.’

She snuggled in and dropped a soft kiss on his chest, making him shiver right down to his toes. ‘I’ve always loved you. Ever since you gave me that balloon.’

‘…balloon?’

‘You know. To protect me from the rain.’

‘Ah.’

‘You put out your arm and I met your eyes, and I just knew – it was you, forever.’

Adrien closed his eyes, remembering a time in a certain wax museum when Marinette had made some strange speech about being entwined or something, in the plaster of destiny – forever. He’d panicked and told her forever sounded like a really long time. Now, it didn’t sound long enough.

‘If I died, do you think you’d use the Wish to bring me back?’ she asked.

His eyes flashed open. ‘Did you…did you really just ask that?’

‘Hypodermically speaking, of course.’

‘Hypo….’ He laughed. ‘Well, as long as this is only hypodermical…then, sure.’

She pushed herself up onto her elbow. ‘Seriously? You’d destroy the whole of reality just to get me back?’

He grinned up at her. ‘Absolutely. Like, over and over and over again. I’d make Emilie and Gabriel Agreste look like child’s play. Better – I’d do what you did and make us our own reality where it’s just us, for the rest of time.’

‘What about the kids?’

‘This is only hypodermical, remember?’

She shook her head and pressed his nose with her index finger. ‘Silly kitty. You mean hypothetical.’ Then she fell onto his chest, unconscious.

He held her close, savouring the sound of her breath, the rhythm of her chest as it rose and fell against his body, the warmth of her skin and the tickle of her hair. He kept his eyes open as long as he could. She’d said it would just be this one day, but as long as he remained awake, the day would not end. As long as he remained awake, she was his.

Chapter Text

The day they finished collège, it rained, and Adrien was mentally transported back to a certain afternoon almost two years ago.

Only his second day of school ever, and already he’d wondered if it had been a mistake. He’d missed half his lessons due to an eruption of akumas, and he’d got off on completely the wrong foot with Marinette. For whatever reason, that had been the hardest to handle. His heart told him she was someone he needed in his life, and he’d blown it before he’d even had a chance to talk to her.

Then, as he’d exited the school for the day, fate had intervened, throwing her in his path the way she’d been thrown at him as Ladybug. On the steps, under a sky so dark it was almost black, she stood, cloaked in mistrust and hostility, tailored just for him.

A voice spoke up in his head, telling him he had to make this right somehow, even if he didn’t know why. It pained him to think he’d offended her – that she thought he was someone he wasn’t. He wanted so badly to make it better, to change her perception of him – to make a friend, especially of her.

The rain came down like uncontrollable sobs, and he gave her a black umbrella. She hesitated before reaching for it and accepting it, her fingers lightly brushing his. Electricity flashed between them, like the lightning that illuminated them. Then the umbrella collapsed on her. She must have pressed the release button when she’d taken it. He laughed, and then she laughed too, and he knew he would be okay.

Now, they sat in plastic chairs under a marquee set up in the park, as Mr Damocles made a motivational speech about the big bright future that lay ahead of them all.

The chairs had been arranged on platforms, so each row was visible to the audience. Owing to alphabetical order, Adrien was in the front row. He half-listened to the principal’s speech, his mind on marquees and umbrellas. When they were adults, there would be no more umbrellas other than the ones they held for each other. In the real world, there was rain and sometimes they would simply get soaked.

His thoughts drifted to other times in the rain. Not just that day after school but on that class trip to New York, when his father had ordered him back to Paris, claiming New York was unsafe. In fact, his father was the danger – a secret he would not learn for months. Like the secrets Adrien and Marinette had once kept from each other, under the orders of another old man.

Or that day Marinette had snuck into the pool during that surreal perfume ad Gabriel had organised – when Adrien got ‘feathered’, as Plagg liked to put it. After, he had run into Marinette again, outside, and she’d held the same black umbrella he’d once given to her. She’d kept it, just as she’d kept his heart.

Or when Gabriel had stolen all the miraculous, through a desperate trade brokered by Felix, before his moment of redemption in the Last Battle. Cat had flown to Ladybug, to reassure her that no matter what she lost she would never lose him, and he’d embraced her in the rain. He liked to think he’d been the umbrella in that scenario.

So many times, the rain had fallen, and somehow they had weathered every storm – together. But now that they’d graduated collège…now, they would no longer be together. At least, not like they were.

He searched the audience and found the Lahiffes, filming the event on their phones, probably waiting for their real son to accept his certificate. Then there were the Dupain-Chengs. The Césaires.

No one would be pointing their camera solely at Adrien or beaming up at him with pride. He had no family of his own, anymore. Maybe someday he would make one, but today….

‘And so,’ Mr Damocles concluded, ‘as you make your way through the world, I want you to remember that each and every one of you has a superpower. Each and every one of you can be the hero of your own life!’

The audience, as well as the students, erupted with applause at his wise, reassuring words. Adrien scratched his head, suppressing the laughter that was bubbling up inside him.

Then it was time for each of their names to be read out, so they could take turns approaching Mr Damocles, shaking his hand and accepting a certificate concluding collège.

Adrien’s was the third name called. He walked unsteadily across the stage – his first runway in a year, ever since he finally had a say in the modelling, and he’d said no. Now, with all those eyes trained on him again, it was strange how familiar the sensation was.

He accepted his certificate with the grace he’d been raised with, surprisingly emotional as he made eye contact with this principal. As Cat Noir, he would likely see Mr Damocles again. He still moonlighted as The Owl. Adrien had once laughed at The Owl, but being honest, these days there was little between them in terms of what they did. But Mr Damocles did not know who Adrien was beyond being Adrien, and so in some way this relationship was now over forever.

This thought heavy in his heart, he turned on his heel and stumbled when he saw three things. One was Mrs Lahiffe filming him. Two was Mr Dupain doing the same. Three was Felix, clapping and smiling that stoic smile of his. How had he known? Who had invited him?

Dazed, Adrien recovered his seat amongst his peers. As other names were called, he kept his eyes on his twin and thought back to their fifteenth birthday. The joint party they’d had together some months ago, on a day they had decided to declare their birthday, after Felix had pointed out that neither of them had technically been born, and so their birthdays must have been fabricated. Felix didn’t dare ask his adoptive mother for the details. Adrien had no one to ask.

Yes, Felix was family, the one person in the world who truly understood what he was – who shared his…programming. Felix, who had somehow managed to be very much his own person nonetheless and would be starting university at the end of the summer, having achieved unheard of results on an entrance exam for Oxbridge.

Marinette’s name snapped Adrien out of his reverie. That, and the sound of Tom whistling and hollering, making everyone turn and stare at his enthusiasm. Adrien grinned and applauded loudly too, one of the only people present who knew just how much Marinette truly deserved to be congratulated. Not only had she just graduated collège, but she had done it as Ladybug and the Guardian of the miraculous.

She tripped as she approached the podium, and fell into Mr Damocles, getting herself wound up in a microphone cable. Everyone laughed, except for Adrien, who smiled with pride so heavy that he had to fight not to fall to the floor.

Marinette flushed hard as she apologised and tried to help Mr Damocles up, only succeeding in making them both fall over again. It was impossible to say even how the wires had got so tangled around her legs.

Adrien leapt from his seat and approached them, helping unwind the wires and reaching out his hand to her, to pull her to her feet again. She took it with her usual look of gratitude, and those familiar pink cheeks that made him want to kiss her in front of everyone. He stood by her side as she accepted her now wrinkled certificate from a very puffed-up looking Mr Damocles, who was smoothing out his suit with a look of annoyance – and relief. Like he was glad to see the back of some students, no matter how good their intentions.

Adrien started to head back to his seat, but Marinette stopped him by grabbing his hand and giving him a meaningful look. Then she looked down at her parents and waved with a big smile, and Adrien put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her close, as they posed for a photograph – the best photoshoot he’d ever been part of in all his life.

‘Here’s to the end of one era and the start of another!’ Alya announced at the riverside. She held up her ice cream cone as if to clink glasses.

Their whole friend group raised their ice creams too. Everyone cheered except Adrien, who made the right shape with his mouth but let the others cry out for him. Then they all started licking their ice creams – a celebration of their graduation.

Earlier, there had been dinner with the Dupain-Chengs. Felix had joined them, conversing with trained politeness, before catching his train back to London. Now, as Adrien stood in his circle of friends under the growing moonlight, the events of the day had taken on a certain dreamlike quality, and he was waiting to wake up.

‘I can’t believe collège is over!’ Nino said.

Juleka muttered something without looking up.

‘Yes, the time just flew by,’ Rose put in.

‘Like it was only a few years,’ Kim agreed.

Alix rolled her eyes. ‘It was only a few years.’

Max pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. ‘Technically, for Adrien, it was less than two years. In fact, I believe it was precisely –’

‘That’s a good point!’ Alya jumped in before he could give the exact length of time.

‘Hey, everyone?’ Zoe said. ‘This may be the last time we’re ever together like this. When we no longer go to school together, we might make new friends and...drift apart.’

‘But…that’s what the internet’s for, right?’ Kim said. ‘Staying in touch!’

No one answered. They were probably all thinking the same thing – that commenting on each other’s social media posts once a month wasn’t the same as what they had right now.

‘We’re all being silly,’ Mylène said. ‘We’ll spend time together after this! Friends forever!’

Ivan gave her a squeeze and put out his arm, showing off a narrow bracelet woven with embroidery thread. ‘That’s what these bracelets mean. They bind us together.’

The others glanced at their own wrists, at their own bracelets, presents from Mylène. As if she could bind them all together with thread.

‘You’re right,’ said Alya, now wearing a confident grin. ‘So, we’re going on separate paths. But that doesn’t mean we’ll stop being friends! Come on, guys, let’s make a pact right now – to meet together at this very spot every single month, now and forever.’ She threw out her arm, as if waiting for the others to put theirs out too, to seal the pact.

Nino immediately put out his arm, covering his girlfriend’s hand with his. ‘Every month. Nothing can break friendship, dudes.’ He gestured at Adrien with his head.

Adrien sighed and cracked a smile as he put his hand over Nino’s. ‘To friendship.’

‘Friendship,’ Marinette agreed, joining in and smiling up at Adrien.

One by one, the others put in their hands, their spare arms sticking out of the circle to hold up their melting ice creams. ‘Friendship!’ they all cried as one, before letting their hands fly into the air and rescuing what was left of their treats.

‘Okay, everyone, share what you’re doing next,’ Alya ordered. ‘Zoe, you first.’

One by one, they shared their plans. When it came to Marinette, she carefully omitted any reference to her secret obligations as Ladybug, much less the Guardian of the miraculous, even though several of their friends knew.

Finally, it was Adrien’s turn.

He cleared his throat. ‘I, er…I’m doing a humanities pathway at the lycée général to, er…well, just study until I figure out what I want to do, I guess.’

His friends stared at him, maybe waiting for more – because everyone else had a plan. They all knew exactly what they wanted to do in life.

Nino stepped over and patted his quasi-brother on the shoulder. ‘My boy here just needs some time to find himself after all those years being bossed around by his old man.’

Adrien blinked at him. ‘…find myself?’

Mylène leapt in. ‘Yes! Oh Adrien, this will be such a good time for you!’

He turned sharply to her. ‘It will?’

She nodded. ‘I envy you, really. You can use this time to get to know yourself better. Sit in the silence and listen for the messages in your heart.’

Alix snorted and rolled her eyes a second time.

‘Do you mean literal silence?’ Adrien asked.

Mylène smiled that beautiful open smile of hers that always reminded him a little of sunshine. ‘Sometimes, yes. Meditation has done wonders for me. Ivan, too.’ She looked up at him, and he nodded. A gentle giant unafraid to admit he meditated.

Well. Then Adrien could do it too. ‘Do you need, like…I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Candles or incense or something?’

‘It’s up to you. Meditation isn’t a set thing, you know. It’s about creating a safe space where you can just be.’

‘Just be.’ He stared through the air, at an image forming in his mind – of hurtling over the rooftops, escaping the city and landing somewhere in the countryside, lost but not minding. Just him and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, and the birds and insects. Marinette was there, too, and –

‘So, if you want candles and incense, that’s up to you,’ Mylène went on. ‘Sometimes the smell or the light can give you something to hold onto, so your mind doesn’t drift away and think about all kinds of irritating things.’

This made a kind of sense.

‘I’m sure you’ll figure out what you want to do, in time,’ Alya said. ‘We’re all still young, right? You just need to explore things a bit, find your passion.’

This also made sense.

‘And, of course,’ said Nino, ‘you’ll always have –’ He stopped suddenly, as if remembering something. He must have been about to say Adrien would always have Cat Noir. But that wasn’t really a career. No one paid them to save Paris. Almost no one even knew they did it.

He glanced at Marinette, at his side, hoping to share a private smile, when he noticed the expression on her face.

He nudged her. ‘You okay?’ She’d left her hair down that evening, and it was all he could do not to run his fingers through it in front of everyone.

She shaped her mouth into a smile. ‘Sure.’ It was a clear lie.

Alya must have noticed too, because she was steering the conversation away and the attention off Adrien and Marinette.

Adrien finished off his ice cream and whispered to Marinette, ‘Why don’t we go for a walk? Just the two of us.’

She nodded, ate the last mouthful of her own ice cream, and he took her hand, gently leading her down the riverside and onto a bridge where they were out of hearing range. The clouds settled in front of the moon, casting a bluey glow over the water, which rippled under the evening breeze.

‘What’s on your mind?’ he asked.

‘Oh, it’s…you’ll laugh.’ She rubbed at her bare arms and looked sideways at the river.

He touched her arm, drawing her eyes back to his. ‘I would never laugh at you.’

‘You laughed when I read you that Buttercup love confession.’

He had to stop himself laughing at the memory right now. ‘That was different. That wasn’t you, Marinette. That was something you made up because you thought it was what you should say. I didn’t laugh when you spoke from the heart.’

She sighed, defeated. ‘Okay. It’s just…what if your path takes you far away from me?’

His mouth fell open. Then he collected himself. ‘Sorry, I might have misheard you. Are you worrying that we might grow apart?’

She nodded, her cheeks a faint pink.

‘That I might stop loving you?’

Another nod.

‘Marinette.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘How could you even think that? Have you somehow forgotten I’m Cat Noir?’

‘…no.’ She held him back, warming him inside.

‘So, you must remember how hard I am to shake off. All those times I pursued you even after you told me over and over and over again that you wanted me to leave you alone. I’m not good at letting go, M’lady. I’m stubborn and annoying.’

She giggled against his chest, tickling him inside. ‘You’re not annoying.’

‘I am. You told me so at least a thousand times.’

‘I’m not sure it was quite a thousand.’

‘If only Max could confirm it for us. I’m certain it’s more than you remember.’

She squeezed him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry?’ He ran his fingers through her dark hair.

‘For turning you down so many times.’

‘Oh, that’s okay. It just made the conquest that much sweeter.’

She pulled away suddenly. ‘Conquest?’

He grinned and caught her hands. ‘See? Annoying.’

She laughed. ‘Okay. I get your point, though. You don’t let go. I should…I should know better. I’m sorry I doubted.’

‘Oh, no, no, no.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t ever be sorry for hoping I’ll stay with you forever. But….’

‘…but?’

His heart suddenly felt heavy in his chest. ‘I’m the one who should worry. As we just agreed, you used to turn me down an awful lot. It was hard work getting you to love me.’

‘Not at all!’ Her beautiful blue eyes were large, glittering with moonlight. ‘I loved you almost from the beginning.’

‘Yes, as Adrien Agreste. Not as Cat Noir. If I had to work that hard to win you over to my other side, what about when I transform over the coming years?’

She looked stricken. ‘You…you really think that? You think I’m that shallow?’

He shook his head quickly. ‘It’s not about being shallow. It’s about people changing. It’s about you knowing exactly who you are. I can’t see you ever being anyone else. But I was really sheltered, and I have a lot of growing to do. Will you still like me when I come out of this…cocoon, or whatever?’

‘Of course.’ She pressed in close to him and kissed him hard.

He responded feverishly, pulling her head against his, wishing they weren’t on a bridge where people could walk past at any moment, with their friends waiting just down the riverside.

He broke away before he could get carried away, and cupped her cheek. ‘I love you, Marinette. I’m never going to stop loving you, no matter what life throws our way.’

She covered his hand with hers. ‘I love you too, Adrien. That’s never changing either. The truth is I loved you as Cat Walker and I love you as Cat Noir and I even…I even loved you as Cat Blanc. You are it for me. No matter how old we get or what happens. I am never letting you go.’

He thought of all those times she’d caught him when he’d fallen, or even leapt, to his death or something like it. Of a time as Adrien, when he’d jumped simply because she’d told him to, refusing to transform and save himself because he just knew she would save him.

He had always trusted her, and he had to trust her now. Had to keep trusting her forever. Because trust was the one thing they’d always had, underneath everything else.

Chapter Text

‘Let’s go on a date – just the two of us.’ That’s what Adrien had suggested the week before, and Marinette had actually agreed.

It shouldn’t have been weird. They were married, after all. They’d been together twenty-three years, for goodness’ sake. But when you had three kids, and a job like Marinette’s, date nights were a challenge. It had been months. So, Adrien’s mouth had actually fallen open when he’d heard Marinette say that magical single syllable: ‘Yes.’

Which was how he ended up in front of the bathroom mirror attempting to tie a tie again. This time, Marinette did not interrupt him – unfortunately.

He finished with the tie and ran his fingers through his hair, which still had its bounce after all these years. Then he headed out to the living room, where he found Marinette staring at her phone. He slipped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled his chin into her neck, relishing the feeling of her skin warm against his.

‘Hey,’ he murmured, kissing her cheek.

She didn’t reply. Didn’t even look up. She was absorbed in her phone. Had something come up at work? He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

He peered over her shoulder and saw Lila Rossi on the phone screen. Marinette was swiping through photos of her on social media.

‘Um.’ He withdrew his arms and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dinner jacket before stepping in front to face her. ‘Do I want to know what you’re doing?’

‘Ugh, I’m sorry.’ She didn’t sound sorry at all. Sorry meant you wouldn’t do it again, and she hadn’t put away the phone.

He rocked on his heels. ‘So…the reservation is for 6. We’d better get going…right?’

Silence.

‘I visited the Order of the Guardians and retrieved my miraculous, today. Plagg was disappointed at our cheese selection.’

More silence.

He groaned and grabbed the phone from her hand. ‘Okay, you aren’t listening to a word I’m saying.’ She tried to grab the phone back, but he shoved his hand behind his back and shook his head. ‘This is supposed to be a date night. I’m not going on a date with Lila Rossi, am I?’

‘No, but –’

‘Okay, and neither are you. You’re going on a date with Adrien Agreste, and he is standing right here.’ He patted his chest, as if to remind her he meant himself.

‘When did you start talking about yourself in the third person?’

Since you stopped being around to respond to me and I had to start having conversations with myself.

It wouldn’t do to share that thought, so he put on his best serious face and said, ‘The taxi is probably waiting outside. Please go put on your shoes, so we can go.’

‘Are you going to count down from five?’

‘What?’ Oh god, had he been talking to her like she was one of the twins?

She seemed to read this thought on his face, and she had the grace to laugh. ‘I really am sorry. I’ll get my shoes.’

The taxi was already waiting for them outside. In the backseat, Adrien took Marinette’s hand, gazing deeply into her eyes, rimmed with mascara. Her cheeks glowed even in the dim light of the cab, and her hair flowed down to her shoulders. It was tempting to skip dinner completely and go back in the apartment.

She smiled at him. ‘Are you going to give me back my phone?’

‘Is that all you’re concerned about? You haven’t even allowed me to tell you how beautiful you look.’

‘Okay. How beautiful do I look?’

‘Absolutely ravishing.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Ravishing?’

‘Mm-hm. I could eat you right up.’

The eyebrow went higher. ‘How much time do you spend with the kids? Now you sound like a witch in a fairy tale.’

‘Huh. I was going for seductive.’ He pouted and crossed his arms, accidentally letting the phone drop on the seat between them.

She grabbed for it but put up her hands in surrender. ‘I just feel better when I have it, is all!’ She put it away in the small shoulder bag she’d brought.

They reached the restaurant, and he paid the driver before hurrying over to Marinette’s side of the car and taking her arm. He licked his lip, allowing himself to drink in the sight of her, in another adorable little dress, this one pale pink, showing off her legs and arms, that waist and her curves, in all the right ways. It was one of her own designs – as was his suit. She hadn’t even commented on him wearing it.

They headed inside and Adrien gave his name to the maître d’ who led them to their table. It was a stupidly expensive restaurant, but it was worth it to have this night alone together. And they could afford it. He’d inherited an absolute fortune from his father’s estate and invested it well, via a very good financial adviser who said a lot of words about tax-efficiency and estate planning, and wrote lengthy reports detailing her advice, which Adrien struggled to read but dutifully kept in a file in the storage room.

He perused the wine list, then lowered it to make a suggestion. Marinette had taken out her phone again and was swiping through it in a way that looked suspiciously like she was looking at photos of Lila again.

He opted for subtlety, first, and let his legs find hers, rubbing gently against her calves. She moved her legs as if he’d accidentally bumped into her.

‘Marinette,’ he hissed, and she looked up.

‘Oh! Sorry.’ She put her phone upside down on the table, which wasn’t really away enough, and took up her copy of the wine list. ‘I’m finding it hard to process these. Just order for me. You understand this stuff better than me, and you know what I like.’

He did, but that wasn’t the point. ‘I shouldn’t feel like a third wheel on a date that’s just the two of us. This is supposed to be about us, not some girl from school. Why are you looking at photos of her, anyway?’

Her shoulders sagged. ‘Okay, first, I just wanted to see how many famous people she really has met. You know. To verify all her endless name-dropping.’

‘Uh-huh. And…?’

‘Ugh. She’s met all of them, Adrien.’

‘…so?’

‘So, she’s telling the truth!’

‘O…kay. That’s good, right? That she learned something after school? Wouldn’t it be terrible if she’d grown up and spent the last two decades stuck in adolescence? Hey, how about this one?’ He tapped the name of a ridiculously expensive red wine on the list.

‘That sounds lovely, Adrien.’ Her eyes were darting at the phone, and her hand twitched like it was itching to pick it up again.

He purloined the phone and buried it in his jacket pocket. ‘Us,’ he reminded her.

She shut her open mouth, admonished. ‘Us,’ she agreed.

The waiter returned, and Adrien ordered the decadent wine before picking up the food menu.

‘I just don’t trust her,’ Marinette muttered over her menu.

‘I gathered that. I think I’m going to have two starters – just because.’

‘I mean, she just shows up out of the blue, at my VIP party.’

‘Or maybe two desserts instead.’

‘And did you see what she wore to that party, Adrien? I mean, how could you not. What didn’t she have on display that night, you know?’

This was a trap. If he agreed, it would confirm he had looked. Even though, as she’d just pointed out, there was no possible way he could not have looked, because Lila really had been flashing as much skin as she could get away with.

‘And at Alya and Nino’s dinner…!’

Yes, a lot of skin had been on show then, too. Every time Lila had leaned forward, they had all been treated to a view right down her dress. Which was frankly bizarre coming from someone he still thought of as being fifteen years old.

‘Maybe I’ll just skip the starters and mains and have three courses of dessert,’ he said. ‘Chocolate gateau, parfait, profiteroles, and red wine. What do you think?’

‘I think it’s ridiculous coming to a restaurant like this if you’re going to have things you could probably make better yourself.’

His eyes widened at this unexpected compliment. ‘You think I’m that good at baking?’

She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. ‘Of course. You learned from the best in the city. Papa wouldn’t keep you on if you were no good.’

‘You sure about that? I mean…he was kind of just doing it as a favour.’

‘At the start, yes. But not now. You’ve been there for years.’

The waiter came with the wine and offered to take their food order.

Adrien caught Marinette’s eyes and they shared a smile finally. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘could we have a few more minutes?’

‘Of course, monsieur.’ The waiter gave a small bow and stepped away.

‘You’re not really having three desserts, are you?’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘Why not? They can’t judge, surely. Not at these prices.’

She giggled. ‘And you didn’t really put on your miraculous today.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Of course, I didn’t. I put on your miraculous. That’s why I’m ordering three desserts. Tikki demanded macaroons.’

Marinette gave a small sigh. ‘Tikki….’

Adrien’s own smile fell. ‘Yeah.’ It had been so many years since they’d seen either Plagg or Tikki. So many years without two…people?...who had once been such a vital part of their lives.

They picked up their menus again. When the waiter came, they gave their orders, which did not consist of desserts, then leaned in towards each other across the table.

Adrien took her hand, drawing circles around one of her knuckles. ‘Are you really that upset about Lila? Or is this about something else?’

She stared down at their hands. ‘I guess it just…it all took me back. You know?’ She looked up at him again, a pleading expression on her face – pleading with him to understand.

‘I think I do. But why don’t you…tell me more.’

She sighed again. ‘It’s been years. And so much has changed. I was staring around that dinner table the other night and thinking of all the friends who weren’t there with us anymore. People we’ve lost touch with because…I don’t know. Life just takes you in different directions. And then somehow, with the circle we kept, there was Lila of all people. How the hell did we end up having dinner with Lila Rossi, Adrien?’

He suppressed a laugh. ‘As you say, life takes you in different directions. But after all this time, what is it that bothers you so much about her? Surely she’s harmless now.’

She shrugged. ‘You remember how awful she was to me.’

‘I do. But that was forever ago.’

‘It was. But you didn’t actually hear her when she threatened me. She meant it, Adrien. Not in some casual adolescent way. She really hated me. She really meant to take everything and everyone from me, and to this day, I don’t even know why. Other than….’

‘You saw through her.’

She nodded. ‘I was the enemy because…oh, this is so sad, really. I know it before I even say the words.’

He pressed her hand. ‘Say them anyway.’

‘Ugh. If I must. I was going to say I was the one who stuck a pin in the fantasies she made up, without knowing she made them up because she was lonely.’

He pressed her hand again. ‘You couldn’t have known.’

‘That’s what I like to tell myself, but I’m not sure it’s true. Here, at thirty-seven, I look back on it all and think: Lila was a child, wasn’t she. She was no older than Hugo. That really puts things in perspective. I mean, we were all no older than Hugo. If you think about it…we were so young.’

‘But it didn’t always feel like it, at the time.’

‘It didn’t, but we were. Lila was just this stupid kid making up stories because she was unhappy and had no parents around to make her feel loved. And then your –’ She stopped there, her eyes round.

Adrien smiled gently. ‘Then my father swept in and fed her false promises before he threw her away, just like he did with everyone when he no longer had a use for them. I know.’

‘…yeah.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Maybe if I’d just let her be, instead of being so obsessed with catching her out in her lies…. Not when she started gunning for me, but before that. At the very beginning. If I’d just left her to it, she never would have hated me and never would have threatened me or tried to hurt me. In a way…I guess I started it.’

Adrien rolled his eyes. ‘You didn’t start it, Marinette. She was annoying. It drove me crazy, too, the way she lied all the time.’

‘But you never showed it.’

This was true. ‘But that’s not necessarily a good thing. Seen from another angle…I put up with too much. I let a lot of awful things just happen, before I finally stood up against them.’

She didn’t say anything – because this was true too.

The waiter arrived with their starters, and they broke apart to make room for the plates.

As they ate, Marinette said, ‘I guess I’ve always had a habit of getting too obsessed.’

‘Hey, we have that in common. Are you forgetting my obsession with Ladybug?’

She grinned. ‘Touché, as you used to say.’

He grinned back. He hadn’t fenced in years. Who had the time? These days, he kept his muscles strong by kneading dough and managing very active six-year-olds.

‘I do think, though, that you need to let this one go,’ he said. ‘Lila is a lot of things, but none of them need to be part of our life together.’

‘Did you think she was beautiful?’ Marinette suddenly asked, making him choke.

He reached for his wine and took a deep sip of it before replying. ‘I’m sorry…what?’

‘She’s really filled out, hasn’t she? She’s taller than me. Longer legs. Gorgeous hair. The biggest breasts I have ever seen. You don’t need to be coy about it, Adrien. I know we were all just staring at her breasts. Even Hugo, after the fashion show.’

Okay, she’d noticed.

‘I didn’t enjoy looking,’ Adrien offered.

She shook her head.

‘Really! In fact, I spent both evenings thinking that although she was…glamorous…she had nothing on my wife.’

‘Uh-huh. Your short wife who dyes her grey hairs and has factually smaller breasts.’

‘Hey, I’ve always liked our height difference. I don’t care what colour your hair is – in fact, there are younger women who purposely dye their hair grey because they think it looks cool. And I love your breasts.’

He said this just as the waiter returned with their mains. The waiter gave him a curious look. Adrien shook his head. ‘Sorry, not yours. My wife’s.’ He gestured at Marinette, who had turned a colour that complemented her wine.

‘Ah,’ said the waiter.

When they were alone again, Marinette dissolved into giggles. ‘I was wrong the other night. You never change.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘It is. After all these years, you’re still the same boy I fell in love with all those years ago.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are!’ She sipped at her wine. ‘Okay, maybe that’s not true. What I mean is…you’re still my kitty. You’re that boy.’

His brow lifted. Had he really just become Cat Noir all these years? Despite never wearing the costume anymore? ‘Do you miss the tight black leather?’

She grinned. ‘A little. Maybe I should make you a new costume. Something only I get to see.’

‘You’d probably stick a bell on it.’

She laughed. ‘Probably.’ All at once, her smile crumbled and she squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, suddenly sounding on the verge of tears.

He dropped his fork. ‘What for?’

‘…for not being the woman you married.’ Her eyes flew open and met his again.

‘Marinette….’ He chewed over his next words. ‘You are exactly the woman I married – hardworking, tenacious, motivated, with big ideas. You always have a plan. You’re always busy with a thousand different things. In fact, you have so many obligations that it can be hard to find space in your schedule. I have to share you with just about everyone in Paris. But when I look back…you were like that as Ladybug, and you were kind of like that as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re like that as Marinette Agreste.’

She frowned. ‘You say that like I have some other identity to add to the list.’

‘Maybe you do.’

Her gaze dropped to her plate. ‘You feel like you have to find room in my schedule?’

He shrugged. He wished he could stop talking, but the wine had loosened his mouth, as it probably had for her. ‘It’s reaching a point where I feel like I have to book breakfast with you next Thursday. Which is….’

‘…what you used to do with your father,’ she finished for him.

‘…yeah.’

They stared at each other in uncomfortable silence. How had things gone from so good to so bad, so soon?

Maybe she was wondering the same thing, because she finished off her food and her glass of wine, then tucked her hands under the table, avoiding his eyes.

When they were younger, they’d sometimes seen older couples in restaurants, not talking to each other. Marinette had asked if, over time, you just ran out of things to talk about. He had reassured her that after being together that long, you probably developed a psychic bond and could speak without words. There was plenty of communication going on at all those other tables, just in a language no one else could understand.

Now, he wondered if that had been naïve.

The waiter came to offer them the dessert menu and Adrien took it, grateful to have something to focus on instead of the gulf that had risen between him and his wife. ‘I actually don’t think I’m that great at profiteroles,’ he said, for lack of anything else to say. ‘So, I might try them here.’

‘I think that gateau sounds nice. I wouldn’t mind drowning in chocolate, tonight.’

They ordered, and Marinette said, ‘Lila’s staying in Paris for a while, you know.’

‘…oh?’ He didn’t really care. Wished they could talk about something other than Lila. Marinette’s work, even. Or maybe his research on absent mothers.

On second thought….

‘I saw a comment thread between her and Alya,’ she continued. ‘Making plans to meet up some more. Like she’s just infiltrating all our friendship group, again.’

‘Well…you’ve got work, and your own social life, now…right? And you’ve got me. And the kids.’

‘Yeah, but –’

The desserts arrived and Adrien wolfed his down, hardly appreciating the flavour. At this point, he just wanted the sugar. It turned out he was better at profiteroles than he’d given himself credit for. He could definitely make them better than this. That was one feather in the cap of…a man who was still allergic to feathers.

Marinette ate her gateau in silence, and Adrien dealt with the bill. Outside the restaurant, he noticed tiny smudges of chocolate on Marinette’s lips. Instinct made him reach for her, wiping her lips gently. The tender gesture was so familiar that he caught a look in her eyes, like she’d just remembered who he really was and that he was hers.

‘You really do love me, don’t you,’ she said.

‘I do.’

‘You aren’t going to run off and have some affair.’

He gaped at her. ‘Is that what this is about?’

‘Well, you know…I’m away so much…and Lila….’

He shook his head. ‘Marinette, that is crazy. I don’t spend every day pining over you because I want some other woman. No matter what happens, it will only ever be you. How can you even think that I would….’ He shook his head more, then kissed her, there on the pavement while others walked past them. Kissed her hard and dug his fingers into her hair, not caring how much he messed it up. She responded, also finding his hair, diving into his curls.

He pulled away a little, breathless. ‘This is…I’m….’

‘Yeah,’ she said, just as breathless. ‘How many desserts were you planning on ordering earlier?’

‘Three.’

‘Right. Let’s go home and make good on that.’

He groaned in a way that was definitely not street-appropriate and dragged himself out of her arms, flailing his arm to hail a taxi. Then he had his arms around her again, and somehow the night had just become perfect.

Chapter Text

Adrien sat at his desk, eyes fixed on the open document on his laptop. His fingers were positioned on the keyboard, ready to type, but his mind would not supply the words. All he had was an opening line, which essentially re-stated the question – one of a long list of previous year’s Philo Baccalaureate questions, as practice for the upcoming four-hour examination that would spell the end of lycée, for better or worse.

‘Plagg, you’ve been around a while. Ever talked to Jean-Paul Sartre?’                                                                                                                

‘Ummmm no,’ Plagg said around a mouthful of cheese. He flew to the desk and landed next to the laptop, bringing his cheese with him. ‘He’s the philosopher guy, right?’

Adrien laughed at the irreverence. ‘Yeah, he’s the philosopher guy. What do you think of his statement that “man is condemned to be free”?’

‘I’m gonna need some context, because right now that is, at best, poetry…and at worst, totally meaningless.’ He munched down more cheese.

Adrien drummed his fingers lightly over the keys, accidentally making unwanted letters and symbols appear on the screen. He erased them, killing more time. ‘I think he was saying something about free will. When we studied it in class, the teacher said he was talking about how…we’re all here in this world, right? And we don’t know why or how we got here or whether we were made by some God or just….’

…thought up with a wish, or the power of a peacock.

‘But now that we’re here, everything we do is our choice. We have free will. And that means every choice we make…we have to accept the consequences.’

‘Ah.’ Plagg gave a sage nod. ‘So, there’s no one to blame but yourself, when things go wrong.’

‘…I think so?’

‘That’s kind of a dramatic way to put it, don’t you think? I mean…condemned?’

Adrien frowned at the screen.

Plagg’s eyes narrowed. ‘I know that look on your face. You’re trying to think.’

Adrien rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not some idiot, Plagg. I do have thoughts.’

‘I know, I know. I’m only joking. But seriously, that look…it’s the one you pull when you’re dwelling on something that’ll only make you unhappy.’

Adrien’s hands drew back from the keyboard in surprise. He hadn’t realised he actually had a look for that. ‘I guess I was thinking about my...my father and…my whole history and...what I am.’

‘Oh god.’ Plagg flew away.

Adrien spun around in his chair, following his kwami with his eyes. ‘That’s it? You’re leaving?’

‘No. I just need some really good cheese for this kind of talk.’

He returned to the desk with a large round of camembert. ‘Alright. I’m ready. Talk away.’

‘Um. Okay.’ Adrien ran a hand over his head. ‘So…I was made…right? Gabriel…no, Emilie…used the peacock to create me, and then I was here, in this world. But because I wasn’t a normal human, I didn’t have free will. I was under someone’s control the whole time without knowing it.’

‘But you broke that control,’ Plagg pointed out.

‘Yes.’

‘And you were wilful before that, too. Your father had no power over you falling in love with Ladybug.’

‘That’s…true.’ Really true. ‘So, you’re saying I had free will over my feelings, even if Gabriel had the power to control what I did?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘But he tried to control my thinking, too.’

‘You mean he tried to brainwash you, kid.’

Adrien sank back in his desk chair and let his arms hang down. ‘So, did I really have the freedom to make choices? When I became the Purple Emperor and…and akumatised Marinette….’ The memory still made his heart burn. ‘How much of that was my choice? I suppose I could have fought back, but….’

Plagg squinted at him. ‘Gabriel threatened you. And he probably would have hurt Marinette more, if he’d been the one wearing the butterfly that day. You made a choice, Adrien, but not to akumatise her.’

‘I chose…to pretend to work with Gabriel, so I could protect Marinette and free more of the kwamis.’ While this was reassuring…. ‘There was a lot I didn’t have a say in, too.’

‘Okay, let’s try it this way.’ Plagg had consumed most of the cheese, now. ‘When do you think you first did something that was truly your choice? When did Gabriel stop controlling you?’

He didn’t have to think about this one. ‘When I left for the time burrow. And when I accepted Cat Blanc.’

‘Right. And that’s what changed your costume.’

Adrien nodded.

‘Did that feel like condemnation?’

‘No, it felt like…release.’ In fact, he could still feel it now, like shackles being unloosed on his wrists and ankles, or finally knowing what it was like to breathe real air after being locked in a dank dungeon for decades.

Plagg nodded and polished off the cheese round.

Adrien straightened. ‘You’re right. This quote is dramatic. Being free isn’t a curse. It’s wonderful to be responsible for our own actions. It’s wonderful to know that every mistake I make from here on out is mine. Being free is a blessing. It’s miraculous.’

‘If you’re starting with the jokes, I really am leaving this time.’ Plagg flew away again, to his cheese cupboard.

Adrien laughed and stood up, stretching his arms and fingers. He’d been in the chair too long. He knew exactly who he should be talking this through with, and he was right down the hall.

He left the room and headed for a neighbouring bedroom, then knocked on the door. After a moment, Nino answered the door. ‘Oh hey, dude.’

He stepped aside so Adrien could come in, and they sat together on Nino’s bed. Even after all these years, it was still surreal that they both lived in the mansion like that.

Stranger still, they were eighteen now. Nino would be moving out, and Adrien would need to make some decisions of his own.

‘What’s up?’ Nino asked.

‘It’s this Bac Philo.’

‘Ahh, tell me about it, dude.’

Adrien looked around the room and saw that Nino had done some decorating – textbooks and notebooks were strewn all over the floor. ‘You feeling overwhelmed, too?’

‘Totally. Don’t get me wrong, dude. I like thinking about stuff. But this isn’t just philosophy. This is like…the exact way to answer the question, and remembering all these quotes from all these old dead white dudes.’ He gripped the sides of his head and let out a growl of frustration.

Adrien grinned. This was just what he’d needed. ‘I was thinking the same kind of thing.’

‘Yeah? You don’t think it’s totally awesome to spend all day locked in your room contemplating what it means to be human?’ Nino’s eyes rounded at his own words. ‘Oh, dude, you know I didn’t…. I was just….’ He cursed under his breath and stared at his feet.

Adrien did the same.

Maybe Nino wasn’t the right person to talk to about this. Plagg accepted Adrien’s status without question. As did Marinette. And, of course, Felix. But they hadn’t told any of their friends other than Alya and Nino, and none of them had talked about it since that first strange conversation about four years ago. Adrien told himself it was because he didn’t want to talk about it. But maybe they didn’t want to talk about it.

‘It’s okay, Nino. I was already thinking about this stuff, actually. Thinking I’m not…I’m not sure how much of it really applies to me.’

‘Right.’ Nino wasn’t making eye contact.

‘I…didn’t mean to come in here and make you uncomfortable. I can…talk to someone else, I guess. Like Marinette.’ Though she’d probably take his worries personally, as her own failings.

He was ready to stand and go, when Nino spoke again.

‘No way. You can talk to me. It’s cool. You’re a…you’re a sentimonster.’ He looked up and gave a timid laugh. ‘Yeah. A sentimonster. See? I said it out loud. It’s cool, man, it’s cool. Talk to me.’

Adrien studied him. ‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure, dude.’

‘Well….’ Adrien took a breath and let it out. The only way they were going to push through this wall of weirdness was to plough ahead. ‘So, I was just talking through that Sartre quote with Plagg.’

‘Oh, that thing about being condemned to be free? Yeah. Again. Old dead white dudes, right? Sartre obviously never experienced slavery.’

‘Okay – this is good. This is what I was going for. But it’s other questions on the practice list, too. Like….’ He pulled out his phone, where he had the list, and read one out. ‘Is man condemned to create illusions about himself?’

‘What’s with all the condemnation?’

Adrien laughed. ‘Okay, but…putting aside all the old dead white dudes we’re meant to quote, and all their theories…just talking plainly, right?’

‘Right….’

‘Do you think that’s what I do? Create illusions about myself?’

‘…what kind of illusions?’

He tried to think of how to explain it. ‘All the costumes I’ve made up for myself, for a start.’

‘Like Cat Noir?’

‘More than that.’

‘Like when you used the rabbit miraculous? What did you call that one, anyway?’

‘Rabbit Noir. But no. There’ve been a lot.’ He started counting them off on his fingers. ‘There was also Aspic, Cat Walker, Cat Blanc but I didn’t choose that, Snake Noir, Mister Bug, the Purple Emperor, the rabbit horse thing I never named, Adrien Agreste –’

‘Adrien Agreste? That’s you, dude.’

‘Is it?’

Nino stared, then shook his head. ‘I think you’ve gone some heavy place I can’t get the layout for. You’re gonna need to draw me a map.’

‘I’m just saying: I’ve had a lot of personae. And in the end, I found out I’d been made in the image of this other boy – my prototype.’

‘…Julien Agreste?’ Nino remembered.

Adrien nodded. ‘Even being Adrien was a kind of illusion. Now that I’m supposedly free of it all…am I really free? Or am I just living yet another illusion? Is this just one more persona I’ve made up for myself?’

Nino was still staring. ‘Dude, who cares?’

Adrien drew back. ‘Who cares?’

‘Yeah, who cares? Man, we’re changing all the time. Even without the miraculous, life is already one long transformation sequence. And yeah, I guess that means you can never be sure who you are. You’re always evolving. But that’s good. It means no matter how many mistakes you make, there’s always a chance to be a better person from that moment forward. Again: why all the condemnation? Why does this stuff have to be bad?’

Ooh. Adrien was liking this. ‘Okay, how about another question that was bugging me.’ He read from his phone again. ‘Are we prisoners of the past?’

‘Oh my god.’ Nino groaned loudly. ‘Prisoners! Like life is a big jail cell or something, and existence is some kind of sentence. Adrien.’ He took one of his hands and looked him hard in the eyes. ‘I mean this from the bottom of my heart, right? You’re my best friend apart from Alya. Moving in together…it’s been awesome. You’re like my brother. Really my brother. Just like Chris – you mean the same to me. I love you, okay?’

‘O…kay.’ Adrien blinked back the liquid that was suddenly forming in his eyes.

Nino released his hand. ‘I know the past must haunt you…but you’re not the only one. All of us have a history, dude. All of us have these insecurities and questions. All of us hear voices in our heads belonging to people who said or did bad things to us a long time ago. I still hear this teacher who wouldn’t accept my dyslexia, telling me I can’t do things. But she’s gone, you know? It’s just a lingering voice in my head sometimes, challenging me. But I use that voice. It drives me to work harder. To prove that I’m not stupid. I can do these things, even if it takes me a little longer than it takes you.’

‘Of course, you can. You’re one of the smartest people I know.’

Nino smiled. ‘And I can tell you mean that, so…like I said: I love you, man. And you need to use your old man’s voice in your head for something good, too. You don’t have to be a prisoner of the past. It’ll shape you, sure. But you can decide what that shape will be. No more collar and bell, right? You’re in charge, dude. You’re not a prisoner.’

The light in the room seemed to grow brighter. ‘You’re right…but what are we going to write on that four-hour exam next week? I kind of want to say everything we’ve learned is wrong.’

Nino punched him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Exactly my conundrum, dude.’

Adrien grinned. ‘Okay, here’s another question for you.’

‘Go for it.’

‘Gabriel was a sentimonster too.’

Nino eyed him carefully. ‘Ri-ight.’ This was information they had not shared with the public when they’d reported Gabriel as dead.

‘How much free will do you think he had?’

There was a pause. Then, ‘I need another map, here.’

Adrien hesitated. How much of this did he really want to say? It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone about these details. ‘I’m responsible for what he was. I mean…I guess Emilie was, because she actually created that Gabriel. But I created that Emilie. Or…I didn’t. I’m a copy of the Adrien who created that Emilie. Because –’

‘Dude, spit it out before I pass out from confusion.’

‘Was the original Adrien Agreste a kind of god?’

Nino’s mouth hung open. ‘Okay, back up. How did we get here?’ He put up his hands before Adrien could answer. ‘Never mind. I don’t want to hear that convoluted story again.’ He dropped his hands. ‘Okay. You’re talking about creators.’

Adrien nodded.

‘But none of it matters. Gabriel made his choices. Once he was in the world, it was down to him, bro. He was definitely responsible for what he did to us all – for what he did to you.’

Adrien turned over this idea in his mind. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just…sometimes I get to thinking about DNA and what we pass down and…how much actually got passed on to me if I was made a different way. You know…how much I actually take after my parents.’

‘You look like the exact combination of them,’ Nino offered.

‘But that’s just appearance. We both know there’s more than what you see on the surface.’

‘…you’re…worried maybe you could be just as evil as your old man.’

Adrien didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure ‘evil’ was a fair description of the man, despite all he’d done to them. He was still stuck on the possibility that Gabriel had, in a way, been programmed to be what he was. And that Adrien himself had been programmed.

‘There’s no way.’ Nino patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’re nothing like your dad. Nothing. You couldn’t be further apart. Come on, you know that.’

‘You sound like Felix.’

‘Well. That might be the only thing we have in common, but….’

Adrien shook his head. ‘You’re both right. I’m just over-thinking. It’s all the study, you know?’

Nino grinned. ‘I know, believe me.’

Adrien cast a second glance around the room, at all the books. This problem was too big for Nino. Probably too big for anyone. He stood up. ‘I’ll let you get back to studying. I need to work on some practice papers, anyway.’

‘Oh. Okay, sure. But you know you’re never bothering me. I mean…this was your house first. You can come in anytime.’

This somehow didn’t feel true. In fact, it would have been easier to believe he was a new sentimonster, made just that day, transplanted into a life that didn’t really belong to him, with memories that weren’t really his.

‘Thanks.’ He stumbled out of the room.

In his own room, Plagg had surrounded himself with hunks of cheese and was cheerfully sniffing each one.

It must be nice if your only concern in life is cheese.

He sighed and slumped back down at his desk, fingers over the keyboard again, ready with a response he didn’t fully agree with. At the back of his mind, the real issue, the one neither Plagg nor Nino had even guessed at, tickled and itched.

Then he was on his feet again. ‘Plagg!’

‘Oh no.’

‘Claws out!’

They didn’t go on patrol as often, these days. There didn’t seem much point anymore. Paris didn’t need them like it used to, which he kept telling himself was a good thing even if it left him feeling a little unwanted. It was ridiculous to miss running for your life and being responsible for the lives of thousands of people every day. Ridiculous to feel jealous of The Owl, of all people, who could do about as much as they could, now.

The infrequent patrols meant Adrien saw less of Marinette. She was endlessly busy with her education. So was he, but she cared that much more about hers, because she was pursuing a dream, whereas he didn’t have dreams. They’d worked that out all the way back when they’d battled Wishmaker. Adrien’s childhood dream was to be whatever his parents wanted him to be. And without parents left in this world, whose dreams was he following?

But tonight, he called her, and she came. He greeted her with a red rose, like when they were younger. She accepted it, tucking it neatly behind her ear. The red was flattering against her dark hair. She looked gorgeous, as usual. No longer a girl, she had blossomed into a young woman, and sometimes it hurt to look at her too long. Like looking at the sun.

They sat together on their usual rooftop facing the Eiffel Tower. She leaned against him and he hooked his arm around her shoulders, tucking her in at his side – him as Cat Noir and her as Ladybug. It was one of those magical moments he would be tempted to revisit, if he had the rabbit miraculous.

So it shocked even him when his mouth opened and the words tumbled out, spoiling the serenity. ‘How human do you think I really am?’

He felt her ease away from him before he saw her face, staring up at him in question. As she so often did, she read his mind. ‘Is this about the Bac Philo?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve been writing practice papers all week and I think….’ He laughed at how ridiculous this was going to sound, and yet how true it was. ‘I think I’m having an existential crisis.’

She laughed too. ‘You’ve been having one of those ever since I met you.’

His brow rose, then fell as he accepted her observation. ‘I guess that’s true.’

‘Was it really hitting you, today? Is that why the urgent patrol request?’

‘Am I that transparent?’

‘You…wear your heart on your sleeve.’ She smiled and tugged gently on the leather encasing one of his arms.

‘I guess it all feels so much bigger, now that I’m supposed to be an adult,’ he admitted. ‘I’m eighteen, and there’s this bright future ahead, or so I keep being told. You and all our friends have all these plans, and I...have nothing, Marinette. Nothing. I still don’t know who I am or what I really want. Breaking free of my parents’ control was just the beginning. It wiped the slate clean, and I don’t…I don’t know what there is, with Gabriel gone. I’m completely blank. I’m…I’m a creation without a god.’

She was giving him a look he found difficult to read. ‘Adrien.’ She spoke his name so softly, her voice so low that it sent a shiver racing down his spine. ‘You’re not blank. I can tell you exactly who you are.’

‘You…you can?’

‘Mm-hm. You’re the kindest person I have ever known. The most honest, too. You’re brave, and prepared to sacrifice yourself to save others without even thinking about it. You’re funny –’

‘I’m quoting that, next time you roll your eyes at one of my jokes.’

She laughed. ‘You are funny. You’re smart. You listen. You’re always there for people. You help me see things from new angles and shake me free when I get stuck. You’re strong – not just physically, but inside.’

She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, which was fluttering like mad. ‘And you lend that strength to others, because you care. You love. And it doesn’t matter what you decide to do as we get older, because all of that is changeable. Maybe you’ll decide to do something different every month, but you’ll always be that same warm, loving person inside. And that’s all you, Adrien. If that’s programming, it’s no more so than DNA. Felix was made at the same time you were and he’s not the same person. You’re unique. Your heart is unique. You don’t win everyone over just because you’re handsome. I mean…that helps….’

His heart thrummed harder. ‘Oh yeah?’

She grinned. ‘You win everyone over because you’re beautiful within, and it shines through everything you do and every look you give.’

She had somehow moved in very close, and he was having a very human response.

‘Marinette….’ He whispered it, half hoping she would move away and half hoping she wouldn’t.

‘I know,’ she whispered back, answering his unspoken question. She moved in closer, climbing into his lap and kissing him, softly and slowly, and then harder and faster.

His claws tangled in her hair. As she trailed kisses down the side of his face and tugged at the throat opening to his catsuit, he made out, ‘What – what are you –’

She eased back just enough to remove her earrings, de-transforming in an instant. She tucked the earrings into her shoulder bag, which had reappeared with her normal clothing. ‘I don’t want them watching us.’ She said this with such simplicity that he almost couldn’t process her words.

She gestured with her chin at his right hand, and he looked down, realising what she meant. With shaky fingers, he removed his ring and put it in her bag, suddenly feeling smaller. The Cat Noir persona was larger than life, easy for playing the cad. As plain old Adrien, he was just a young man trembling as he dared to hope his girlfriend really meant what he thought she meant.

She did.

Yet after, as they lay together on the rooftop, her head tucked into the crook of his arm, he was still convinced he’d dreamt the last hour of his life. There was no way this had happened. No way that after all he’d been through, he was lucky enough to have this beautiful woman love him the way she did.

His fingers stroked one of her arms, tracing small circles over the skin. What was it Nino had said? Something about life being one long transformation sequence. This felt true. Marinette had transformed tonight – had looked and sounded and acted like a new version of herself, someone she was discovering at the same moment that he did. And he could say the same of himself. New secret identities had been forged for each of them, identities only the two of them knew existed. Identities that would probably continue to evolve as they grew together.

‘I love you, Marinette,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t think it was possible to love you more than I already did, but I do.’

He felt her smile against his chest. ‘I love you too, Adrien. Not for whatever you want to become, but for who you are and always will be.’

She lifted herself enough to look down at him, and they kissed again. He held her close, suddenly certain of one thing: this was not programming. This was him. This was truly him.

Chapter Text

It was a Monday, and that meant some frustrated snapping at Hugo to wake up for collège, before dropping off the twins at school, then heading to the bakery, where Adrien worked a five-hour shift on weekdays.

It gave him enough time to head back to the school to pick up the twins and bring them home, where he plopped them in front of the television while he headed for the kitchen to study, clean, have text arguments with Hugo and obey twinly commands, all at once.

He was in the middle of making sandwiches for the twins and tea for himself, while firing off texts to Hugo. Every time he put the phone down, he thought of something new to say.

Adrien: All I’m saying is it would be nice to have ONE night where you actually stayed home. Most kids would be GLAD their parents want to see them.

Adrien: It’s a MONDAY, for god’s sake. You have to be up early for school tomorrow.

Adrien: At least send me the address, so I know you’re safe.

Adrien: Are you trying to punish me, by ignoring me? What did I even DO, Hugo?

Adrien: If you don’t text me the address in the next ten minutes, I’m ringing the police and reporting a kidnapping.

He probably shouldn’t have sent that last message. Never a good idea to make threats you couldn’t carry out.

The kettle finished boiling and he hurried to pour the water before it cooled, then returned to slathering bread with strawberry jam. He licked the excess jam off his fingers and dumped the knife in the growing pile of dishes in the sink, which would definitely need dealing with someday. Probably today.

‘Food has arrived!’ he announced as he carried out the sandwiches to the twins. They jumped up and down on the sofa and made monkey-like noises as he held the plates above their heads. ‘Ah ah ah! Settle down, first. Sit. All the way down. That’s right. Et voila!’

They dug in like hyaenas. It was a little unsettling. Too easy to imagine his children like Mowgli in a jungle and surviving absolutely fine without him. Lord help Sheer Khan.

He sat next to them and nibbled daintily at his own jam sandwich, his mind on his next research paper.

‘Papa,’ Louis said through a mouthful of sandwich. His face was smeared with jam.

‘Mm?’

‘Emma just – just – just – just – just. She just – just. Emma. She. Emma just.’

Adrien tried to be patient. Once upon a time, he’d worried Hugo had a stammer. But this was just how kids talked at this age. They struggled to find the words and got stuck on loop like an old record. It might be an hour before Louis spat out his full thought.

‘Emma just what, honey?’ Adrien prompted.

‘Emma just – just. She was. She just.’

Adrien scanned the scene for signs of what Louis might possibly be attempting to tell him. ‘Did she just eat your crust?’

‘Yes!’

‘You never eat your crusts!’ Emma objected.

‘But it was mine!’

There was some yanking on plates and Adrien could easily envision the jam going all over the sofa or carpet. He dove in, separating the twins. ‘Alright, you crazies. Emma, say sorry.’

‘But he was going to – going to –’

‘I know he was going to throw it away, but say you’re sorry anyway.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m the grown-up and I have the power to take your jam sandwiches away.’ This was a lie. He had no power.

They bought it, though.

Emma harrumphed and looked away. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered.

‘Good girl. And Louis? You really were just going to throw it away. It’s better that she eats your crusts. Just give them to her.’

Louis looked betrayed, but Adrien pulled that I’m serious face on him and Louis was too young to know it didn’t mean a thing, so he munched in silence and began discarding his crusts on his sister’s plate.

It was a small victory. A large victory. A victory that meant that while the twins started arguing about what to watch on TV, Adrien could go back to contemplating his attachment style.

Was he ambivalent? It wasn’t a word he’d ever thought to apply to himself, but when he was younger he had been greatly distressed by his parents’ absence, and their return had never comforted him. As an adult, and even as a teenager, he’d often worried Marinette might stop loving him. And he didn’t always feel convinced that his friends truly needed or wanted him in their lives. There was always a part of him expecting things to end.

On the other hand, he wasn’t reluctant to become close to others. The opposite, really.

But he hardly felt confident enough to describe his attachment style as ‘secure’. He’d given up seeking comfort from his father long before he’d left this world, and he was never happy when Gabriel returned home. Even after Gabriel had been banished to a new reality, it had been months before Adrien accepted his absence and the fact that he could be himself in his home.

Months? More like years. Even now, he half-expected Gabriel to return and tell him he was doing everything wrong. He heard his voice often enough. And he couldn’t begin to say he had healthy self-esteem.

But he also wasn’t ‘avoidant’. He didn’t evade emotion or have problems with intimacy. If anything, he over-emoted and over-intimated. It was other people who put a block on that.

The only conclusion was that he was disorganised and insecure, mixing up all of the other characteristics and confusing everyone – most of all, himself. It made a kind of sense when he thought of the comfort and love Emilie had shown him, contrasted with the icy detachment from Gabriel. Not to mention later learning that at some point in history, their roles had been reversed – Emilie had been the one to reject him, and Gabriel the one to bring him desperately into the world. Or…to bring a previous Adrien Agreste into the world.

Did attachment styles even apply if you missed the whole infant stage and came into the world at age six?

He looked at the twins, who had settled on a cartoon and were giggling away at something only vaguely funny for adults. They were also six years old.

That’s kind of what the first Adrien must have been like, when he was made. Except, he sacrificed himself with the Wish and came back older. I came into the world older.

He was regretting this line of thought.

He finished his sandwich and leapt to his feet, taking the empty plates into the kitchen and reluctantly doing the dishwasher. Between stacking plates, he watered Rosemary. ‘Looking very leafy today, M’lady.’

Was it his imagination, or did she bend slightly in his direction when he spoke? Like she was reaching for him.

What the hell kind of attachment was that?

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. No doubt Hugo with more attitude. What attachment style did Hugo have? Did he want to know what that implied about his own parenting style?

Maybe Hugo was avoidant, because this wasn’t Hugo. It was a message from Lila, via one of Adrien’s social media accounts.

He nearly dropped the bowl he was holding, but caught it just in time and set it on the counter. A message from Lila? He really shouldn’t answer it. Marinette would murder him.

And yet, he was curious. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to look. He didn’t have to reply.

Lila: I LOVE that photo you put up of you and Marinette last night. You look so loved up!

His shoulders relaxed. Okay. This was okay. There was nothing strange about commenting on a photo, right? And she wasn’t saying anything untoward. Just a compliment on a selfie they took after their date night. Something he’d insisted upon, to wordlessly compete with Nino and Alya, without telling Marinette this but with her absolutely knowing what he was up to anyway.

And it was a great photo. The two of them cuddled up on the sofa, tucked in close together, with matching goofy smiles. ‘She still takes my breath away,’ Adrien had captioned it. Take that, Nino. He had a happy marriage, too. The happiest. Not that it was a contest.

He shot off a reply to Lila without thinking.

Adrien: We were! We ARE.

Instant regret seeped into his bones after he hit ‘send’. Not just over the desperate tone of the reply but the fact that he’d sent one at all. Sadly, there was no ‘unsend’ option.

He finished the dishwasher around the same time his phone buzzed again.

Lila: Marinette is so beautiful. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her again at that VIP party.

He couldn’t help himself.

Adrien: She’s the most gorgeous woman alive.

Adrien: Not that you aren’t looking great yourself!

Oh god. He’d just essentially told Lila she was beautiful. This was why he shouldn’t have replied to her.

Though, technically, he was only being polite.

Though, technically, he had stared right down her dress both times he’d seen her recently.

Though, technically, he couldn’t not stare right down her dress, because that’s what she’d been going for.

Though, technically, Marinette wouldn’t care. And, technically, he didn’t blame her.

Lila: Haha! You’re still just as cute as ever, Adrien.

Yeah, um. This was now a conversation he didn’t want his wife finding out about.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, with it still buzzing. Knowing his luck, this time it was Hugo, but he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He picked up his tea, sat at the kitchen table and popped open his laptop.

Attachment, attachment….

What was Marinette’s attachment style? Maybe also disorganised and insecure? Because she had great parents and definitely sought their love and support. But she did seem to throw herself into work and use all her responsibilities as an excuse to avoid everyone.

There was that time when they were teenagers, when she’d decided love was impossible for her as long as she was the Guardian. She’d tried to hook him back up with Kagami after she’d broken up with him for being a liar, also known as Cat Noir. Not that Kagami knew that. Even today, she still didn’t know his secret identity.

He laughed over his tea. If Kagami only knew…. Cat Noir was definitely not her type.

Not that he knew anymore what her type was. Wasn’t he the one who’d insisted that people change? And they hadn’t spoken to Kagami in years, though not for any other reason than time taking them down different paths. Last he’d heard, she was some high-flying businesswoman living in Tokyo. There was a husband and…a baby?

Probably not a baby anymore. God, how long had it been?

He pulled out his phone, to look her up, when he saw the message.

Lila: Your kids are beautiful too. I wouldn’t expect anything else, but I have to say it anyway. Your eyes and her hair – stunning.

Back on friendlier ground. Talking about his children was surely safe. And this wasn’t the kind of message you just ignored. You didn’t just blank someone after they said nice things about your kids.

Adrien: Thank you. Can’t quite believe they’re real, sometimes. Especially Hugo.

Wait. Why had he added those two words at the end? That was inviting conversation – conversation he did not need to be having. He shouldn’t even be allowed to have a phone. Maybe he could throw it out the window. Or get the twins to –

Lila: I hear you look after them all yourself? You’re such a twenty-first century man!

Adrien: I like to think being a devoted father is not some new thing. Maybe people forgot how to do it for a century or two, but on the whole, I think we’ve done better than that.

Lila: You haven’t changed a bit. Hugo seemed like a handful, though. I bet teenagers are tricky? I know I was!

He stared down at the phone – at this moment of self-reflection. Like a fish gulping at a hooked worm, he found his fingers texting a reply.

Adrien: I think we all had our challenges.

Lila: That’s so you, too. You know very well what I was like in collège. I’m amazed you’re even talking to me, now. Amazed and grateful. It’s horrible growing up and looking back on all the things you’ve done and regretting so much. I’ve often wished I could see Marinette again and do things differently.

A pang went through his heart. This was more than self-reflection. This was atonement, and she deserved a sincere reply – especially after what Gabriel put her through.

Adrien: Well, I really mean this: we ALL have regrets. I’ve sometimes thought of you too, actually.

Lila: Really??

Adrien: Well. About you and my father. I’ve sometimes thought of that day you talked to me in the cafeteria and told us about your own father, and what Gabriel meant to you. I’m so sorry he hurt you.

There was a long pause before she replied.

Lila: It’s not your fault. But thank you.

A message from Hugo interrupted this exchange.

Hugo: You don’t want to spend time with me. You just want me home so you can tell me what to do.

It was startling in the context of what he’d just been talking about with Lila. His head swirled with thoughts of fathers and attachment styles.

There were many things he wanted to say to Hugo. Things like: ‘I didn’t watch your mother go through nine months of pregnancy, and then labour, followed by three years of sleepless nights, potty training, tantrums, and rearranging my whole life for you, just because I wanted someone to boss around. If I’d wanted that, I’d have got a dog. He’d probably be more obedient than you. Friendlier, too.’

These definitely weren’t things that should actually come out of his mouth or his fingers.

Worse, the senti-Gabriel really had only wanted Adrien around as someone to boss around. There were parents out there who felt that way.

Adrien: I don’t want to tell you what to do. I really do want to spend time with you.

Lila: I’m not sure what to say to that, Adrien!

Oh, dear god, he’d messaged the wrong person. This was quickly spinning into the worst Monday of all time.

He sent his reply to Hugo, before messaging Lila.

Adrien: Sorry. Meant that for Hugo!!!

Lila: That makes more sense! Having trouble with him?

Adrien: You could say that. He messaged me earlier to say – not ask but say – that he’s staying over at a friend’s tonight. But I haven’t really seen him in over a week. He gets detention just about every day, and then he just goes out. Misses dinner. Won’t talk to me. I keep worrying he’s on drugs or being bullied or something.

Lila: I’m so sorry to hear that. Have you tried taking him to a counsellor?

Adrien: Hilarious – that’s what I’m training to become!!! But I guess it’s different when it’s your own child.

Lila: That’s amazing! You’re going to be a counsellor??

Adrien: Hopefully. A children’s therapist. I guess I want to help other kids who don’t have anyone to reach out to. Like me, when I was younger.

Lila: That’s a beautiful goal to have. I’m so happy to hear you finally figured out your calling.

He frowned at the screen.

Adrien: I’m not sure I’d call it my calling. It took a long time to decide I want to do it, and I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it. Like I said, my own son doesn’t want to see or talk to me.

Lila: Do you fight a lot?

Adrien: Yes. He shouts at me and says a lot of horrible things. A few weeks ago, he said he hated me. And swore at me. I couldn’t even tell you what I’d done. When I asked him about it later, he just shrugged and said he didn’t know.

Lila: Does he do this to Marinette?

He hesitated before answering.

Adrien: No.

Lila: I think I see what’s going on. Is she out a lot?

Adrien: Yes. I mean…for work, you know? It keeps her really busy. But when she’s home, she’s totally 100% present and there with us.

A lie.

Lila: I understand. It sounds like he’s acting out. He misses Marinette, and he takes out all his emotions on the parent who’s always there – you.

Adrien: Are you saying this is a good thing? That I’m doing okay?

Lila: That’s exactly what I’m saying. The problem is with Marinette. I don’t mean that in a nasty way! I know how important a career is. I live a busy lifestyle too.

Adrien frowned again at the phone. Lila might be busy, but she didn’t have children. It was different. And…how had they gone from ‘Love your photo!’ to Lila giving him marital and parental advice?

This was exactly why Marinette didn’t trust this woman. She was too smooth, reeling you in before you even knew there was a reel.

At the same time…all she was doing was being nice…wasn’t she?

At the same time…this was a conversation he should be having with Marinette, not some other woman, no matter who that woman was.

So, he sent another message.

Adrien: Thanks. I have a bunch of stuff to do, so I have to go. But nice talking!

Lila: Of course. I have some things I should get back to, myself. It just sounded like you needed someone to talk to. Hopefully speak again.

He slowly placed the phone face down on the table, her final message looping in his head. She’d only been talking to him for his sake? She’d sensed he needed someone? Because he had, and she’d delivered. She had calmed his heart and given him some ray of hope in the wasteland of lone fatherhood. And…and it was wrong.

He glanced at his tea. He’d forgotten it, and now it was cold. An ominous sign, if he’d ever seen one.

He couldn’t ‘speak again’. He couldn’t do this without telling Marinette. But he couldn’t tell Marinette because she would combust on their kitchen floor. Why did he suddenly feel like he was having an affair, when all he’d done was talk to some woman about his disgruntled teenager?

Because it’s not ‘some woman’.

‘Papa?’ Emma’s voice startled him.

He looked up at her. ‘What can I do for you, M’lady?’

‘Can we get a friend for Loneliness?’

It took him a moment to realise she was talking about the hamster. And another moment to stop himself from pointing out that if Loneliness had a friend, his name wouldn’t mean much anymore.

‘Maybe,’ he said, though he was already thinking it would be one more someone to take care of. Maybe they could bring back all the kwamis and he could be everyone’s guardian.

‘Right now?’ Emma pressed. There was jam all over her forehead. How had it got there?

He smiled. ‘No, honey. Not right now. And I didn’t say yes. I said maybe.’

He could see it in her eyes: that ‘maybe’ was as good as a promise.

She ran out of the room. ‘Louis, Louis, he said yes!’

He let his head fall to the table – then lifted it again when he heard the front door open. A moment later, Hugo was in the kitchen doorway, not quite making eye contact. His schoolbag was slung over one shoulder, not fully zipped up.

‘I’m here,’ he said in a bored voice.

‘I can see that.’ What Adrien couldn’t work out was why. How had he actually won this and got his son to come home?

They had another of their epic staring contests. Then Hugo said, ‘This is awesome. I’m so glad I came back for this quality time with you.’ He rolled his eyes.

Adrien snapped back to the present. ‘Sit down.’ He gestured at the opposite side of the table.

Hugo shrugged and sat down, dropping his bag on the floor and crossing his arms.

‘Did you have detention again?’

Hugo’s silence was a yes.

‘What for, this time?’

Hugo’s eyes darkened and he looked sideways at Rosemary across the kitchen. ‘I guess now you’re going to give me one of your boring lectures about being considerate or tell me how much you all want to see me.’

Something about this challenge made Lila’s words echo in Adrien’s head. Suddenly, his son looked so much smaller than he was. With his arms like that…it was a wall, to keep him out. Marinette was right: Hugo was so young. Just a boy. Tough on the outside but probably fragile underneath. He looked so like Adrien himself at that age, after he’d lost Emilie.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. ‘Do you miss your mother?’

Hugo turned sharply to his father but didn’t say anything.

Adrien pressed on. ‘Because I was thinking…maybe you miss her. Maybe all her long hours are taking a toll on you and that’s why you’re….’ He had no idea how to finish that sentence without offending his son, so he sealed his lips.

‘Why I’m what?’

‘…I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?’ Yes. Yes, that was good.

Another shrug. ‘I didn’t come home to be one of your therapy guinea pigs.’

‘That’s…really? That’s what you think? I’m trying to have a heart to heart, here. Give you a safe space to share your –’ God, he’d been about to say ‘material’. He really was quoting textbooks. He took a deep breath, let it out and tried again. ‘I’m just trying to let you talk. That’s all. No judgment, not solutions, just…I’m just here to listen. Whatever you have to say, I’m listening.’

Hugo’s insolent stare burned back. He wore that small smirk that made Adrien want to slap him even though he never would. Like he found this whole thing hilarious and Adrien utterly ridiculous. Adrien couldn’t remember ever looking at his own father like that. He wouldn’t have dreamed of it. Gabriel would have snapped him out of existence.

But Hugo…Hugo was a boy who’d never had to fear for his life, one way or another. And that was good. It was like Lila said – Hugo was lashing out because he could.

Adrien was talking himself into the idea that he was actually the best father in the world, if his son felt safe enough to scream at him the way he did, when Hugo said, ‘I don’t have anything I want to talk to you about.’

His confidence balloon burst. ‘Really? Because I’ve been told I’m a good listener.’

‘By who? Who even talks to you, anymore?’

Adrien winced and forced down the emotion in his throat. ‘You’re changing the subject.’

‘Yeah, well, you can’t make me talk.’

‘You’re right, I can’t. But Hugo….’ Where was he even going with this?

It was Marinette who’d once told him what a good listener he was. And something else about what he had in his heart – what he had to give. If lectures didn’t work, maybe it was time to try a different tactic.

‘I love you, Hugo. I know you recently shouted at me that you hate me, and God knows you treat me like you don’t care what I think or feel – but it doesn’t matter. I love you anyway.’ He was keenly aware that he was stealing lines from the script of that old short film he’d done with his classmates. Zoe’s lines. But they rang true.

Hugo’s eyes were wide with…horror, maybe.

Adrien surged back in before his son could speak and derail things. ‘No, I mean it. I love you. You know, I don’t talk a lot about my own parents because they’re…well, they’re gone. You’ve seen my mother’s grave. And my father…he was…..’

‘An international terrorist,’ Hugo supplied.

Adrien sighed. ‘Yes. He certainly was that. And a lot of other things that never made it to the news, because it’s no one else’s business.’ His fists had clenched, and he forced them to loosen. ‘The point is that my father wasn’t the sort of person who listened to me – or to anyone, really. He almost never gave hugs. He didn’t kiss me. He certainly never said he loved me. He wouldn’t even eat breakfast with me unless I booked it into his diary a month in advance. And then he was…gone…and with him went any hope of our relationship ever getting better someday. So….’

He’d completely lost the thread of what he was talking about. Forgotten the purpose. Something about what kind of father he wanted to be…but he’d got tangled in his own thoughts.

He opened his mouth to attempt to clarify his point, when Hugo said, ‘Do you ever resent Ladybug and Cat Noir for killing your father?’

Adrien’s mouth hung open. ‘Uh….’ He forced his mouth to close and dragged a hand through his hair. ‘They didn’t exactly kill him.’

‘In school, and in all the articles I’ve read, they said he was killed in battle.’

‘Yes, but you make it sound like they executed him.’

Hugo shrugged, his arms still crossed in that walled off way. ‘You know otherwise?’

‘Well, no, but…it was a battle, right? And you know what it’s like in war. People get killed, but it’s not the same as just walking up to a man and killing him.’ He had to stop fidgeting and pulling at his curls. ‘Wait – I know you learn about him in history class, but…you read articles about this stuff? In your own free time?’

Another shrug. ‘He’s my grandfather.’ His eyes were on the table now.

Adrien mouthed oh. ‘I don’t…I don’t know why I never thought of this. Of course, you’d like to know more about him. I mean…I haven’t given you any family, really, have I? And you’re old enough to ask questions.’

Hugo’s eyes raised again. His arms finally loosened. ‘You said you’d listen, right?’

‘…right.’

‘To anything I have to say.’

‘I…yeah.’ Where was this going? He’d have given anything to go back to having inappropriate conversations with Lila, right about now. ‘But I don’t necessarily have all the answers you’re looking for. I mean…it’s not like I was ever a superhero, right?’ He laughed too loud and pinned his hands between his knees, under the table.

Hugo rolled his eyes. ‘Well, that’s obvious.’

Adrien blinked. ‘You don’t think I have what it takes to be a superhero?’

Hugo didn’t even reply to this. ‘Look, some of the other kids…all my life, they’ve….’

Adrien leaned forward without meaning to. ‘What have they done to you, Hugo?’ It was incredible how he suddenly felt like hitting some unnamed fourteen-year-olds.

‘Nothing. Ease up, Super Dad. They just make comments, sometimes. About my evil grandfather.’

‘Oh.’ He sank back in his chair. ‘Yeah, I…I went through that, too. Comments and stares because of my evil father.’

‘Was he really that evil?’ Hugo asked.

Adrien heaved out a sigh. ‘I’ve been asking that question for twenty-three years. This is one of those answers I don’t have for you. After he was…gone…I spent a long time trying to figure the man out and never really succeeded.’

Hugo was looking at him like maybe he was trying to figure him out. Adrien shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. He hated these moments when he felt himself connecting with Gabriel in some way. When he could empathise with the man who had once made him and so many others so unhappy.

‘I get that,’ Hugo said finally. Definitely deciding Adrien was a mystery. It didn’t help that Adrien was keeping so many secrets from him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to expect his son to tell him everything when he was hiding so much himself.

‘Is this…part of why you’re never home and you seem so angry half the time?’ Adrien asked.

Hugo was silent, then he laughed. ‘You just couldn’t wait to get in there and try to psychoanalyse me, could you?’

‘I…no, it’s not that. I just –’

He stood up, shaking his head. ‘Forget it. Anyway, I’m home, right? So, you win, or…something. I’m gonna go do some homework.’

He grabbed his bag and left the kitchen, leaving Adrien at the table trying to work out what had just happened. Somehow, in the space of twenty minutes, he’d had a forbidden conversation with a woman his wife hated – agreed to buy a second hamster – and connected with his teenager almost as soon as he’d alienated him again, hardly knowing how.

He looked at his cold tea and let his head fall on the table a second time. Being an adult sucked. If only the worst of his problems was still Hawk Moth. Somehow, that had been easier than whatever his life had become.

Chapter Text

Turning eighteen had its ups and downs. On the one hand, Adrien was now classed as an adult and therefore legally able to do whatever he wanted – more or less. On the other hand…he was classed as an adult, and that meant he needed to work out what he wanted.

Nino had moved out, into a little apartment he shared with Alya, who was pursuing a degree in journalism while Nino tried to make his music happen. This left Adrien in the mansion with the parents and little brother of his best friend. Although the Lahiffes had been his legal guardians for more than three years, there was something a little strange about the arrangement, once Nino was gone.

The mansion was too big and bizarre for them, and it held far too many ghosts. In short, it was time to sell.

His first big decision as an adult was to explain this to the Lahiffes and encourage them to find a new home, which he would buy for them outright, as a thank you for all they’d done for him since he was orphaned. This process had taken less time than expected – only a handful of months – which left him the rightful owner of one oversized mansion, where he now lived entirely alone, particularly since letting the Gorilla go with a generous severance package.

Well. Almost alone.

‘Finally!’ Plagg cried. ‘I don’t have to sneak around anymore with my cheese! I could just…live in the kitchen.’

Adrien laughed and shook his head. ‘Well, enjoy it while it lasts, because remember: I’m selling the mansion.’

‘I know, I know. But you’ll buy a new place. You have to live somewhere. And wherever you go, I can live in the kitchen.’

Adrien rolled his eyes. ‘You do that, Plagg. I need to start this organising.’

‘This organising’ meant going through the whole mansion, top to bottom, and sorting through all the stuff Gabriel had left behind – not just in the mansion but the dome. He couldn’t sell the place without knowing what it really contained. He had an idea to seal off all the secret passageways so they couldn’t be used by future owners. That would be asking for trouble.

‘Maybe you should call Marinette over to help with this,’ Plagg suggested.

Adrien shook his head. ‘This is something I need to do on my own.’

‘Suit yourself. You know where to find me.’ Plagg flew off in the direction of the kitchen.

Clearing through an entire mansion was not an easy job, physically or emotionally. It didn’t take weeks or even months. It took years.

He had graduated lycée with surprisingly high scores and moved on to a three-year literature degree, for no other reason than he had to pick something to study and he liked books. It was the kind of degree everyone said could get you into ‘any job’, though he had a sneaking suspicion that probably translated to ‘no job without completely retraining’.

Alongside his studies, he sank into the mansion, burying himself in it the way his mother had once been buried in the basement. The building was an anomaly, a kind of time burrow. It seemed that as long as he remained within, swiping through the windows of the past, all of life stood still, waiting for him to re-join it.

He hardly answered the phone. He was too lost in the labyrinth of memories and history, threading together the plotlines and composing and analysing the Agreste family story in his head. Sometimes he would catch himself applying his insights from the books he read on his course; or applying his family revelations to his essays about books written by authors who had died before Adrien was ever born and yet somehow understood what he was feeling.

He began with all the ‘normal’ rooms – the kitchen, the dining room, bathrooms, bedrooms occupied by anyone who had not formerly been a terrorist or a terrorist’s accomplice. This alone took months, especially when he had classes to attend, books to read and papers to write, not to mention the odd patrol with Ladybug and some effort at maintaining a social life.

He sifted out what he would keep – which wasn’t a lot – and what he would donate, unless it appeared to hold enough value to sell. He employed someone to take it all away for him, and to auction off any collectibles. He wanted none of it, but the money would help.

There were dozens of oversized photos of himself. Looking at them now, it was like they were pictures of a different person. There was no way that had been him. In fact, maybe they weren’t all him. Maybe some came from the days of the original Adrien. Either way, he didn’t intend to begin his new life by hanging onto some former version of himself, so he carried them to the rubbish heap he’d made out back. When they were taken away, he felt lighter, like a former burden had been removed from his shoulders and something had been wiped clean.

Going through Nathalie’s room was more painful than expected. She had taken most of her belongings, but managed to leave a stray memento here and there, and a lump formed in his throat when he came across one. Unbelievable that he could miss her, after all she’d done. Yet, despite her role as accomplice, and all the sentimonsters she’d killed, for two years she was still been the closest thing to a mother to him, after Emilie’s death.

He'd cared about her deeply, and even hoped she might marry his father – when he’d thought of Gabriel as his father. Now she was one more person he had lost. Worse, even, than his parents, because she was still in this world, easily contactable by phone. He knew exactly where she lived because he had bought her the apartment. It was his choice not to speak to her, and that made it more painful.

Resentment burned into his heart at being left with this task. He had not purchased this extravagant mansion or any of its contents. He hadn’t made the mess, so why was he the one left with it, picking up the pieces? Why was any of this down to him?

He thought of Ladybug. The Guardian. Of responsibilities we don’t always ask for, but which become ours nonetheless.

He was twenty-one when he finally made it into Gabriel’s bedroom, a room that had been kept off limits ever since his disappearance.

An aura seemed to radiate through the door. Maybe it was imagination, but it looked so purple that it was almost black, and the air was suddenly cold.

Plagg shuddered as he floated in front of the door. ‘You sure you need me with you?’

‘I can’t do this alone,’ Adrien said. ‘It’s…it’s like visiting a tomb. I keep expecting to see a ghost.’

‘You think you’ll see ghosts every time you go to a grave?’

‘A tomb.’ He turned the doorknob, then gave the door a little push. It creaked from years of disuse, completing the sensation that he was living out a horror film.

He released the knob and took a long deep breath, then released it. It was just a room. A room that had haunted him all week as he tried to psych himself up for this moment, but a room nonetheless. And Gabriel hadn’t died; he had been banished to another reality. There was no one waiting beyond that door.

He threw it open before his nerves could take him, then flicked on the light and stepped into the room, walking its perimeter. He ran a finger along the top of a desk. ‘It’s dusty like a tomb, too.’

‘And empty. Looking around here, it’s like he had no private life – and we know that’s not true.’

Plagg was right. Apart from a few pieces of furniture – some of which turned out to hold nothing but clothing – there was nothing in here. Nothing that screamed ‘Gabriel Agreste’.

Adrien sighed. ‘I guess I’d better get to work.’ He retrieved his roll of bin liners and began pulling out the clothes, heaping them into the bags.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Plagg asked.

‘I was just imagining what Gabriel would say if he could see all these expensive garments being tossed in black bags. You know, I bet I can auction these. There are probably strange people out there who would pay a fortune for an actual Gabriel Agreste suit.’

‘You don’t want to keep any of it for yourself?’

Adrien shook his head. ‘I would never wear that man’s old skins.’

With the task finished, he stared around again, certain he was missing something. His gaze stopped at the lone painting in the room. One of a series of paintings of Emilie, this one in a Picasso style.

He dropped the bag he was holding and approached the painting, removing it with some difficulty and revealing a safe. ‘Bingo.’

‘Do we need to check behind every painting in the house?’ Plagg asked.

‘Probably. They all need to be dealt with, anyway.’

‘Are you going to sell them?’

‘Probably,’ Adrien said again. ‘Emilie was Julien’s mother, not mine. No matter what I….’ He forced back the tears that were forming in his eyes. He had beautiful memories of the woman. Memories that were now confused.

‘The original Emilie was Julien’s mother, but the one who died was yours,’ Plagg pointed out.

This was true, but only made Adrien feel more conflicted. He focused on the safe. ‘Think you can go in there and pop the lock, like you did with the one in the office years ago?’

Plagg grinned. ‘Is there any question?’ He disappeared through the safe. A moment later, the door hinged open and he flew out.

Inside were piles of Moleskine notebooks, identical on the outside. Breathless, Adrien pulled one out at random and found himself staring at line after line of Gabriel’s handwriting. ‘I…I told you,’ he whispered. ‘Ghosts.’

Plagg hovered at his shoulder and peered at the notebook. ‘Diaries?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘Huh. I never pegged Gabriel as the diary type.’

Adrien arched an eyebrow. ‘Someone that self-obsessed? He had to document how brilliant he was.’

It was incredible to think that all those years, Gabriel had kept his secrets so tightly sealed, never dreaming they would come out. He had controlled absolutely everything. But you couldn’t control things once you were dead. One day, your legacy would be revealed.

Adrien pulled out a few more volumes. One was full of sketches of outfits – familiar outfits.

‘He designed his akuma victims in advance?’ Plagg said.

‘L-looks like it.’

He pulled out another book, and a sheet of paper fell out, fluttering to the floor like butterfly wings. He retrieved it and unfolded it. It was a large map of some kind. Schematics, it looked like. For the….

‘Is that what I think it is?’ Plagg said.

Adrien swallowed. The dome and the basement. He had not gone back there since….

‘Uh, Adrien? What is that?’ Plagg hovered over the schematics and pointed with one of his tiny paws.

‘That’s…oh my god.’ How was it possible that anything could still surprise him about Gabriel, after everything he’d already done?

‘Okay, so I’m not the only one seeing that, right?’ said Plagg. ‘Because it looks like your father has missiles installed in that crazy supervillain lair of his.’

‘Yes, it…it certainly looks like it.’ Adrien looked up in the vague direction of the dome, trying to imagine it. Trying to process the fact that in all the years he had lived in the mansion, there had been military-grade weapons installed in a next-door building.

He turned back to Plagg, feeling so much younger than his twenty-one years. ‘How do I…I mean, who do I contact about that?’

‘The government?’ Plagg offered.

‘I guess….’

‘What were you planning to do with the dome, anyway?’

‘I…hadn’t really thought about it.’

‘Hadn’t thought about it or…were you avoiding thinking about it?’

Adrien didn’t answer that. A thought had come to him. A thought he didn’t want to follow but knew he would.

He put the diaries back in the safe but left the door open, then headed out of his father’s bedroom.

‘Where are we going?’ Plagg asked, his voice urgent and plaintive.

Adrien didn’t answer this either. Just moved on through the house until he had reached his father’s old office and was pushing open the door, drawn to it as if in a dream.

To call it an office was a stretch. It looked more like a Masonic temple, the way Gabriel had designed the place, right down to the podium on an elevated platform, like a throne above a pulpit for his followers. The man definitely had a god complex. What was he doing in that alternate reality of his?

He shuddered, and scoured the walls and the floor, searching for any other hidden spots, but came up dry – apart from the old painting of Emilie behind the podium. A painting that had previously made him smile, but which now filled his heart with dread. He was definitely selling that one.

‘Can you pop that one open for me too, please?’ he asked.

Plagg zipped through the painting and into the safe, and the door swung open, revealing…nothing, really. Just that old guidebook of Tibet, the Grimoire to be given to Marinette for safekeeping, and….

His arm reached in slowly, as if it had a mind of its own, and pulled out the framed crayon drawing of a little boy and his parents. Done by Julien, surely. Adrien had no memory of drawing this.

He traced the crayon figures with his fingertip. He had seen this picture before, when he first looked in the safe years ago. He hadn’t thought anything of it, then. Too distracted by the Grimoire and the question of who his father might be.

I forced myself not to see it. But it was all right there before my eyes.

Again, he choked back tears before they could spill, and he let the picture fall to the floor, the glass smashing. Sorry, Julien. I just can’t deal with anymore ghosts.

He removed the two books and set them on the floor too. Then he shut the safe, lingering at the painting before pressing it in the familiar places. The floor dropped beneath him, and he was going back, back to the underground.

No. That was wrong. He had never left it. He knew this, even if he didn’t admit it to anyone else.

The tube delivered him into the basement, where there were no more butterflies and Sleeping Beauty no longer slept in her glass coffin. Emilie had been interred, and it had been a long time since Adrien had visited her.

Now, there was just that old runway surrounded by underground water. The plants had all died, other than weeds winding around the platform where the coffin had once rested.

He carried on to the back exit, where he headed through the tunnel, still remembering the way, until he reached the next lift, back up and into the dome, his breath short in anticipation.

Without the kwamis in cages, Gabriel’s lair looked innocuous enough. Just a room on the top floor of a tower near the mansion. But the schematics told another story. There were missiles in the walls and memories in the air – memories with paper-thin wings.

‘Last time I was here…,’ Adrien began, but it was so hard to finish.

‘I know,’ Plagg said softly. He had been there too.

Adrien turned in a slow circle, his mind making him see Marinette on the floor again, at Gabriel’s feet as he tormented her. His heart caught.

Plagg seemed to know what was in his head. ‘You saved her. The two of you, with your friends, and Felix…you defeated him. He’s gone, Adrien. It’s over.’

‘So why does it feel like it’s not?’ He fell to his knees and the tears finally fell. He curled up on the floor, crying until his skin felt dried out and his chest was a hole.

The following week, Adrien sat on Gabriel’s oversized bed, surrounded by sliding stacks of diaries. He’d dragged them all out and begun reading them, line by line, some passages aloud to Plagg.

To describe Gabriel Agreste as a megalomaniac was generous. It was easy to imagine him reading back his own diary entries with pleasure – out loud, in a dramatic voice.

There were some surprises. For instance, Gabriel Agreste wasn’t even the man’s original name. And it had passed Adrien by that Gabriel had been such a golf enthusiast – not to mention his almost poetic love of pancakes. But more of a surprise was the discovery of the exact date of his and Felix’s creation…which left him with a new puzzle to solve.

‘Hey, Plagg.’

‘Hm?’ He had as much cheese heaped on the bed as Adrien had diaries.

‘Do you think it’s possible that…multiple Gabriels wrote these diaries? Like…if there were multiple realities, did some of these diaries exist before the destruction of one reality and then get brought into the new reality that was created?’

‘Um….’

‘And did each Gabriel retain the memories of his predecessor?’

‘Um….’

‘Because if so…what does that mean for me? Are half my memories from the previous Adrien? Do you think any of my memories go back to Julien? Do Felix and I share Julien memories? How much of what I’ve done was really me in this form?’

‘Um….’ Plagg had large, puzzled eyes and seemed to be purposely keeping his mouth stuffed with cheese, perhaps to avoid replying.

‘It’s next month,’ Adrien thought out loud. ‘Our creation day. Our true birthday, I suppose. Well, Felix’s and the original Adrien’s, anyway. I’m not really sure what it means for me, but…I guess it’s close enough.’ He was growing increasingly despondent with each idea.

Plagg swallowed down his mouthful of cheese. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to read all of those, you know. You could just pile them up in the garden and set them on fire.’

‘And wonder for the rest of my life what my father really thought.’

‘You said he wasn’t your father.’

‘I know, but….’ Biological facts didn’t change that he was the only man who’d ever held that spot in his life.

Adrien carried on reading.

To call the diaries a fixation was an understatement. Maybe it was the literature degree in him, but he read every volume with a pen and notebook at his side, making notes, writing down quotations with annotations on Gabriel’s use of language. There were patterns to the speech and repeating themes. He could have easily written a doctorate on the man and still had more material – especially because he knew things Gabriel hadn’t, which meant every line dripped with dramatic irony.

Then, one night, the obsession ended as suddenly as it had begun, after reading a particular passage:

There are times when it feels as though Adrien is not truly my child; times when I remember that he is not my child. He is not Julien, and he will never be Julien. Emilie used the peacock – she died to create these boys who can never take the place of our son. Julien is lost to us forever. I must force myself to remember this.

There is no denying that Adrien is a beautiful boy with a beautiful heart. It would be difficult not to admire him in some way. However, he is not really my son. He is simply a boy I am responsible for; a boy who lives in my house and whom I am obligated to feed and clothe. He is useful to me and brings in a good income with his modelling, and he is highly accomplished. For this, I am proud of him, but I can never bring myself to feel for him what I felt for his prototype.

There are times when I wonder if I’m even capable of love. Perhaps this is not an emotion I was made for.

Adrien stared at the words until they no longer looked like words or even an alphabet that could transmit meaning. He stared and recalled Marinette once claiming he had been made to love.

Made to.

Made.

He slammed the book shut, taking note of his surroundings for the first time in…well, he’d lost track of time. It might have been weeks since he’d begun reading the diaries. Plagg was probably in the kitchen, and Adrien was alone in the bedroom of a sociopath – the only man he could ever call ‘father’, who was no longer there to fulfil a role he had always known he could not fulfil. A man who had never loved him.

Because I was never his son. I was an orphan the moment I entered this world. I have never had an origin. I came from nothing and one day I’ll probably return to nothing.

He thought back to all those times when he’d jumped to his death in battle, as Cat Noir. All the times he’d told Ladybug he trusted her to bring him back. His biggest secret, maybe even bigger than being Cat Noir, was that whenever he’d sacrificed himself for the cause…there was always a teeny tiny part of him that was uncertain he would return…and didn’t care.

Worse still…unlike akuma victims, Adrien always remembered the time when he was gone.

That first time he’d let himself die –

Killed yourself. Come on, if you’re going to have a death wish, at least call it what it is.

– was when Gamer had pitted them against each other. One of them had to go, if the other were to overthrow the villain of the day and free the akuma.

No way in hell was Cat going to fight Ladybug to the bitter end. Even beyond morality, chivalry or love, Ladybug was necessary to fix everything. If she went down, who would be left to bring her back? Gamer had given Cat no choice.

Somehow that complete lack of options had made everything so easy. After all, wasn’t that Adrien’s whole life – being dictated by some power figure, with no say in what happened to him?

Taking those few steps backwards off the gaming platform…how could he have explained to Ladybug that it had almost been a relief? He had gone on his terms.

When he fell, he felt his flesh go hot, even sizzle. There was the smell of electrical fire, and the burning went through his muscles, bones, blood. His brain was the last thing to go. It must have happened in an instant, but the pain was slow, agonising.

Then he was…somewhere else. Somewhere dark. Darker than dark. A nothing space where light had never existed. He had no eyes to seek colour or sunshine. No body to feel the emptiness. He was pure consciousness in a vacuum.

Memory fled him. He had a vague idea of who he’d once been, but it was fading fast. He had no name. No notion of what he once looked like. Only a strange impression of black on red, but he couldn’t place why or even how he could sense this colour. It was imprinted on him, the thing he refused to let go of, as he merged with oblivion.

Then he felt a tug, as though his consciousness were being yanked back to wherever he’d once existed, already forgotten. Suddenly he was standing on the football pitch, the light too bright, his body too tight on his soul – and Ladybug was there before him, black on red and beautiful.

When he jumped off the spire while fighting Lies, his life flashed before him – regrets. Not standing up to his father. Letting Kagami down. Not being what Ladybug wanted him to be.

He landed hard on the pavement and felt the crunch and snap of his bones, his organs being crushed and pierced, blood running where it shouldn’t. The pain was unbearable, but only for an instant –

Then he was in the nowhere space again. He was no one and nothing. Nothing had come before, and nothing would come again.

And still, that impression of black on red, inexplicable and strong. What was it?

There was that tug again, and then he was back in Paris, under the moonlight.

I’m…Adrien. Adrien Agreste.

He glanced down at his black suit and memory returned to him.

I’m Adrien Agreste, but I’m also Cat Noir. And that’s Ladybug coming for me.

She threw herself at him, scolding him for his sacrifice.

The role came back to him. He slapped the expected playful grin on his face, joked that he loved Ladybug’s angry little pout when she brought him back, and it was business as usual.

But at night, in that too-big bedroom, while Plagg ate somewhere and there was no one to joke around with anymore….

A chill shocked through him as unwelcome thoughts swam into his mind and took up residence. Memories of the darkness, of being and feeling nothing. Raised vaguely Catholic, he didn’t know how to marry up the experience with what he’d been taught.

Is that really the afterlife? Or is it some temporary space I go to when I’m waiting for Ladybug to resurrect me? Maybe I didn’t die at all, just kind of…hovered in limbo. Or dreamt it all.

He thought of the lingering impression of Ladybug’s suit that followed him into the void. Probably because he’d placed all his faith in her.

Maybe I get caught between worlds because I can’t let go of her.

But as he sat on Gabriel’s bed, surrounded by those diaries, a very different explanation felt truer.

Maybe the void is a place just for me. An eternity of blankness for a boy who lived his life the same way. For a boy who was made with magic. A boy with no soul.

His eyes welled with the tears he normally hid behind jokes, and the usual questions struck him like lightning, making him quiver.

Who am I?

What am I?

Is that nowhere place really where I’m destined in the end? Is there nowhere for me because I am what I am?

What if Ladybug hadn’t brought me back?

Terror seized his heart and he counted backwards from one hundred to try to get his breathing under control.

He didn’t like Ladybug’s angry little pout when he forced her to resurrect him. He didn’t like putting her through that pain and worry, or placing that kind of responsibility on her shoulders. He didn’t like the darkness and the shadows that haunted him at night.

Most of all, he didn’t like acknowledging that if he had to, he would make that jump again. Forget ghosts from the past. The biggest monster he had to deal with was himself.

Suddenly his hand was in his pocket, digging out his phone. Felix answered on the fifth ring. ‘It’s four am, Adrien.’ His voice was groggy.

Adrien stammered out the words with a pounding heart. ‘I – I need –’

Felix sounded more alert now. ‘What do you need? What’s wrong?’

He didn’t know what he needed, or even quite what was wrong. But an answer came to him. ‘Do you want to take a trip with me?’

Chapter Text

The following weekend, Adrien was determined to spend some quality time with the kids – and that included Hugo. That moment they’d shared in the kitchen was promising – at least, he hoped so. It had lingered with him all week, following him into restless dreams – namely, Hugo’s interest in Gabriel.

In his grandfather.

Could he even be called such a thing if he wasn’t Adrien’s biological father? A DNA test probably would have confirmed that they were genetically father and son. But that family lineage was so much more complex than genetics and not something he’d ever looked forward to explaining to the kids.

It was only natural for Hugo to wonder about his paternal relatives. No doubt the twins would wonder about them, too. Adrien had often imagined the questions, and what he might say. Yet he’d drawn a complete blank in the actual moment, and now he needed to prepare for more.

Maybe it was time to tell Hugo the story before he heard it from someone else – someone who would embellish it and give him the wrong ideas.

Except that would mean telling Hugo that his father was a….

He wasn’t ready to go down that path. But he was willing to organise more family time together, with or without Marinette – which was how he ended up in a never-ending queue for the lift up the Eiffel Tower, with a large bag slung over one shoulder, two frantic twins at his feet, and a very bored looking teenager staring at his phone, typing enough to make it clear that whoever he was talking to, he’d rather be spending the day with them.

‘Papa, I’m scared!’ Emma cried as she stared up the tower in horrified awe. ‘I don’t want to go all the way to the top!’

‘Relax,’ Adrien said for perhaps the thirtieth time in as many minutes. ‘We’re only going to the first floor. You see that up there?’ He pointed to the widest platform. ‘Just up there.’ Though that was also very high, and he could see that his daughter was not reassured. ‘Hugo, help me out. You’ve been up there before. Tell her it’s not that bad.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Hugo said without looking up from his phone.

Adrien fought back the urge to growl like a wild cat. ‘Who are you messaging, anyway?’

‘No one.’

‘Then I guess you can put the phone away, can’t you.’

No reply.

‘Hugo.’

‘What?’

‘Put the phone away. You’re with your family today.’ Maybe not the most persuasive argument, but the point that mattered most.

Hugo shrugged. ‘I’ll put it away when we’re up the tower.’

There was a certain logic to this, which Adrien did not argue. In fact, he was tempted to look through his phone too, maybe see if Nino or Felix had messaged him. But he had an example to set, so he left the phone in his pocket.

The queue moved like molasses. This really was tedious. Who would have thought a family day out would involve so much standing around? It was so much easier when you could leap up by stick or throw a yo-yo. Sometimes it was hard to accept living life as a normal, after all those years being something more.

But normal was what had given him the children, and…yes, they were worth it. The twins were, anyway.

No, no, Hugo was worth it, too.

Adrien suppressed a private laugh.

‘Okay, here we go!’ he enthused as the lift doors opened. ‘Hugo – off your phone.’

Hugo slowly put his phone in his pocket and looked sideways, away from his family.

The lifts were glass, so they could see in all directions as they went up. Emma buried her head in Adrien’s stomach and clung to his legs, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her, secretly enjoying her sorrow. It was nice to be needed. ‘It’s okay, Em. We’re almost there.’

‘No, no, no, I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home!’ she cried, her voice muffled by his shirt.

He patted her head, which he’d pulled into dark pigtails that morning in an echo of their mother in her younger days. Funny how he’d previously loved Marinette’s hair down, but now missed the pigtails.

Louis was plastered against the glass, in the way of other visitors, who all spoke different languages. He stared out, speechless. Hugo looked at his fingernails.

The lift reached the first floor and stopped. ‘Emma.’ Adrien patted her head again. ‘We’re here, honey. Come on.’

She didn’t look up, but she took his hand and walked with her eyes closed, allowing herself to be led out of the lift and onto the steel platform. Finally, she dared to look around and appeared appeased by what a large, sturdy platform it really was. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and she was covered in snot. She was so beautiful.

‘Let’s have a look at the view, huh?’ Adrien suggested after he’d cleaned her up.

He guided them all to a railing overlooking the city landscape. The view sent a pang through his heart at the memory of so many other moments up that tower, in younger days. How much he suddenly missed those days, even after all that time worrying he would be tied to them forever, never able to grow up and lead a normal life.

‘I don’t like it,’ Emma said, ducking behind his leg.

‘Aw, sweetie, it’s okay. We’re safe up here, I promise. Look.’ He released her and walked right up to the railing, standing against it.

‘You don’t find it scary, Papa?’ she asked him with wide round eyes.

He thought about it. ‘Um…no. I guess I just…got used to heights in a way other people wouldn’t. I mean, back when we were Hugo’s age, your mother and I even used to have this special place that was just the two of us, on a rooftop where we’d watch the sunset together.’

Hugo was now eyeing him. ‘You had access to someone’s roof? Like…not a house?’

‘Um.’

‘How high was this rooftop?’

‘Um.’

‘Was it that big tower, Papa?’ Louis asked, now at the railing and pointing at the Montparnasse Tower, of all things.

Without thinking, Adrien said, ‘No – but I did jump off that one.’

‘Jump?’ all three children repeated.

‘Fall,’ he corrected. ‘Hey, does anyone want waffles?’ He gestured with his chin in the direction of a kiosk across the platform.

‘No, no,’ said Hugo. ‘You said jump. What did you mean?’

‘Nothing, Hugo. It really was a slip of the tongue. Emma? Louis? Really? Waffles, guys!’

‘If you fell, why didn’t you die?’

The twins looked alarmed. ‘Did you die, Papa?’

Adrien shot his eldest a meaningful look. The meaning was: Say one more word and someone else might be falling off a tower today.

Hugo either didn’t understand or didn’t care. Probably the latter. ‘Why are you still here?’

‘Because your m – your mind will be blown when I tell you that I was saved by the one and only Ladybug!’ Smooth, Adrien. Real smooth.

‘Like in the cartoon?’ Emma said, frowning.

‘Ladybug isn’t real, Papa,’ Louis said, not having learned about her in school yet.

This was Adrien’s moment, and he took it. ‘You know what? You caught me! It was all a big silly story I made up to make you smile. Guess I failed, right? This is why I’m not a writer! Now – waffles!’

Finally, some enthusiasm. The twins rushed over to the kiosk, and Adrien and Hugo followed.

While they stood in the queue and the twins babbled about what toppings they would order, Hugo said, ‘You weren’t making it up. So, what happened?’

Wait, wait. Was Hugo…taking an interest in him?

‘It’s…it’s kind of a long story.’

Hugo shrugged. ‘It’s a long queue.’

That was definitely interest. The one time he wished he’d ignore him, no less. ‘Okay, well.’ Where to start? ‘You know how I was a model?’

Hugo snorted.

‘That’s a yes. Something maybe you don’t know is that when I was your age, I wasn’t allowed to leave the house without being trailed by a bodyguard.’

‘What?’

‘I know. You think you don’t have freedoms.’ He adjusted the bag that was slipping off his shoulder. ‘It was this big guy we called the Gorilla, because he kinda looked like a –’

‘Rhino. Sure.’

‘So, one day, I snuck out of the house when I was meant to be –’

‘Wait. You? I thought you were, like, some golden child who did everything perfectly.’

Adrien frowned. ‘I was, but not exactly by choice. I think you’ve…where did you even get that idea from, anyway?’

Another shrug. ‘It’s how you talk to me. It’s just obvious that you never did a single exciting thing at my age. Probably never in your life.’

‘That’s…wow, that’s the impression I give?’

A blank stare.

Adrien shook his head. ‘Okay, so I snuck out because my mother was sort of an actress before she died, and she had the leading role in exactly one film, which I’d never seen, and there was this one cinema that was going to show it for one time only.’

Hugo arched an eyebrow. ‘You had to sneak out of the house for that? Why didn’t you just ask your dad?’

‘Because Gabriel was not the sort of man you made requests to.’

‘That’s another thing. You only ever call him Gabriel. Why not Dad or Father or your grandfather?’

‘Hey, here’s a thought. Maybe if you’d stop interrupting me and listen to this story, you could work out the answer yourself.’

Hugo was silent.

Adrien let out a breath as they moved forward in the queue. Emma was saying something about chocolate sauce. ‘So, I snuck out. But Gabriel had just made me do this ridiculous perfume ad.’

‘Adrien the Fragrance?’

‘…why do you know that?’ He’d cancelled it from production and obliterated the promotional materials as soon as Gabriel had ‘died’.

‘I came across it online once.’

This gave Adrien pause. It wasn’t the sort of thing you just ‘came across’ these days. Hugo must have purposely searched for him online. ‘It’s stupid, right? Not the kind of thing I would have done if I’d had a choice.’

‘Why didn’t you just tell him to fuck off?’

Adrien glanced at the twins, who didn’t appear to have heard because they were too busy arguing about who had the best superpowers in some show they watched.

‘Okay, listen,’ Adrien said in a low voice. ‘Gabriel was also not the kind of man you just told to fuck off.’

Hugo’s eyes looked large enough to swallow his face, at hearing these words come back to him from his father’s mouth. It was oddly satisfying to shock your teenager.

‘Gabriel controlled me,’ Adrien went on. ‘In more ways than you can imagine. Let’s leave it at that, okay?’

‘…okay.’

‘So, the perfume ad had come out and the instant I stepped out the door, I had people following me, wanting selfies with me, autographs, that kind of thing.’

‘You were seriously that popular?’

‘Yes, Hugo,’ he snapped. ‘Believe it or not, there was a time when people were interested in your pathetic father, okay?’

Hugo took a step back, his hands up in surrender and that adolescent look of gaslit innocence plastered on his face.

Adrien continued. ‘I couldn’t get to the cinema without being followed and hounded. Then I ran into your mother. She helped me hide.’

‘On a rooftop?’

‘No. In a fountain in Place des Voges.’

‘…in the water?’

‘No, it was conveniently drained and dry that morning.’ He smiled at the memory of Marinette in her pyjamas. The way she had just taken control of things. How had he not realised she was Ladybug?

‘We snuck into a shop and bought the first things we could think of, then went to the cinema in disguise. Your mother had on some swimming goggles and a towel and still was the most beautiful thing ever. I had a motorcycle helmet and looked ridiculous.’

Hugo was giving him a look that was hard to read.

‘What?’ Adrien asked.

‘It’s just…like learning you had some kind of secret other life.’

Adrien’s mouth fell open. Thankfully, it was their turn at the counter now, and he placed their waffle orders.

After, they all sat at a table eating. The twins sank into their waffles and six-year-old chatter, and Adrien absorbed himself in the taste of Spekuloos sprinkles, when Hugo leaned in beside him and asked quietly, ‘So how did all of that lead to you jumping off Montparnasse Tower?’

Adrien swallowed down his bite of waffle. How the hell did he tell the rest of this story? It might require a little…creative licence. ‘Well, I took off the motorcycle helmet and was recognised immediately. Photos went on social media and the cinema was invaded by fans.’

‘Seriously? Invaded?’

‘Pretty much. But then my bodyguard –’

‘The rhino.’

‘…right. He was there and he got swarmed while we…basically, we gave him the slip.’

‘When he was just trying to do his job and protect you?’

Adrien gave a guilty look. ‘I wasn’t so perfect, after all?’

‘That was a pretty dick move, actually. So what happened?’

‘I guess Gabriel called the Gorilla and gave him an earful. Probably told him what a failure he was. He was good as speeches like that. He’d cut you down before you had a chance to recognise what was happening.’ Even after all these years, he could hear the cold bitterness in his own voice.

‘Wow,’ Hugo said around a mouthful of waffle.

‘Yeah. But keep in mind that Gabriel was Hawk Moth…and all his later incarnations. So, if you think about it…he only did it to provoke the Gorilla and make him akuma fodder. I don’t think he really cared about what happened to me. I’d just given him an opportunity.’

‘Damn.’

‘Yeah,’ Adrien said again. ‘He did that all the time. He once forbade me from ever seeing Nino, just so he could akumatise him – on my birthday. Then he took the credit for a birthday present your mother made me by hand.’

‘That’s….’

‘Everything you’re thinking and more.’ He ate some more of his waffle before continuing. In a way, it felt good to talk about it. It also felt heavy. Sometimes he shared some of it in his mandatory therapy sessions, but talking about it with his son was different.

‘So, my bodyguard got akumatised into this supervillain called Gorizilla, who found me and carried me to the top of Montparnasse Tower like I was that blond woman in King Kong.’ He gave a little flick of his own blond curls.

‘Then Ladybug and Cat Noir came for you?’

‘Well. Ladybug, yes.’

‘Where was Cat Noir?’

‘Um.’ He had some more waffle. ‘So, Ladybug was there, just like I knew she’d be, because she was like that. And in the process of the fight, she…told me to jump.’

Hugo’s eyes rounded. His lips were covered in icing sugar. ‘And you just did it? I mean…why would you do that?’

Adrien dug into his bag and pulled out some tissue, to buy himself some time. This was not an easy question to answer. ‘I trusted her.’ He handed Hugo the tissue.

His son took it and wiped his mouth while staring at his father like he was a complete stranger, or a species of creature that didn’t make sense to humans.

Adrien looked across the table at the twins, who were making silly faces at each other and giggling so hard that they seemed in danger of falling off the bench. How long until they realised their father was completely abnormal?

‘You were in love with her,’ Hugo said, drawing Adrien’s attention back immediately. ‘You were in love with her, even while you were there thinking about how pretty Maman was.’

‘Beautiful,’ Adrien corrected. ‘Stunning, really.’ In his mind’s eye, the image of Marinette that day blurred with the image of Ladybug and became one. In his heart, he’d always known they were the same. The universe didn’t make two of someone like her.

‘Do you…miss Ladybug?’ Hugo asked.

What a question. ‘Why would you ask that?’

Hugo shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s obvious you and Maman have been having some problems. Maybe you’ve been doing some remembering.’

Adrien nearly choked on waffle and flashed another glance at the twins to make sure they weren’t taking in any of this discussion. ‘Your mother and I are fine.’

Hugo laughed darkly. ‘Okay, sure. That’s why you’re….’ He trailed off suddenly, his head down.

‘That’s why I’m what?’

‘Nothing, nothing. So, you jumped off the building and Ladybug saved you, yeah?’

Adrien narrowed his eyes at his son. What had he been about to say? ‘…not immediately. I mean…that was the plan, but Gorizilla caught her before she could leap after me, and I was just…falling.’

Hugo was staring again. ‘For how long?’

‘Almost the whole way down. She was only released at the last second. She caught me just before I hit the ground.’ He’d never spoken these words aloud before, and saying them now…he heard how they sounded.

Had he been programmed with a suicidal streak, or just sculpted that way by experience? Nature or nurture? Either way, it went back to one man.

‘Did…did Gabriel know?’ Hugo’s voice was hollow.

Adrien nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. ‘Oh, yes. He could see through all his akuma victim’s eyes. Even control them physically, like puppets. He knew exactly what had happened.’

‘And he just…let you fall?’

Adrien finished off his waffle and turned to the twins, trying to muster as much energy as he could. ‘Hey, crazies, you all done there?’

They finished off theirs too and nodded with chocolatey grins. He collected all the rubbish and got up from the table to throw it away. When he came back, Hugo appeared deep in thought.

‘How about we take some photos and then head down?’ Adrien suggested.

The twins replied with eagerness, Emma probably because they would be leaving soon. He led them over to a railing where he positioned the three kids together and snapped pictures. Hugo stared vacantly at the floor in every shot.

Finally, Adrien asked someone else to take a picture of the four of them. He stood at the back next to Hugo, with the twins in front. Out of nowhere, Hugo grabbed Adrien’s hand. The photo immortalised his look of surprise.

As they stepped into the lift, Emma clung to Adrien’s legs again, while Louis pressed against the glass once more and Hugo stared distantly out the window, his gaze hazy, like he wasn’t really seeing the cityscape as they were carried back to the ground. He was gripping his phone tightly, like some kind of security blanket.

Memories flashing through Adrien’s mind, of another lift once upon a time in an old forgotten mansion.

They were halfway down when Hugo turned to him suddenly. ‘Weren’t you terrified? Of dying, I mean.’

Other passengers gave them looks, and Adrien pressed nearer to his son. ‘No,’ he said truthfully – and quietly. ‘I knew Ladybug would save me. I knew that every time I fell.’

‘…every time…?’

Adrien looked meaningfully at Hugo’s phone. ‘You going to tell me who you were messaging all morning?’

Hugo glanced at his phone and back up. The answer was clear in his eyes.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Adrien said. ‘Let’s just say I have secrets of my own.’

‘Believe me – I know,’ Hugo said, with a bitterness that took Adrien aback.

‘What…what do you mean by that?’

Hugo stared at his shoes a moment. ‘Even Uncle Felix doesn’t tell me things.’

Uncle Felix. The name Adrien had told the kids to call him, even after introducing him as his cousin, to avoid further questions. He’d told them ‘uncle’ was just easier than saying ‘Papa’s cousin Felix’.

‘You mean…he doesn’t tell you about our family,’ Adrien said. Was this what had been bothering Hugo all this time? Did he feel cut out and untrusted? Like his heritage had been withheld from him? Would he be any happier if he knew the truth?

They reached the ground and stepped out into the sunshine.

‘Papa, can we buy a keychain!’ Emma asked, bouncing up and down.

Adrien laughed. ‘I thought you hated the tower. Now you want a keychain?’

‘Pleeeeeease!’

He paid for the tacky souvenir – totally overpriced – and sprang for another senseless trinket while he was at it: a plastic Eiffel Tower that lit up in different colours. Maybe it could go in the hamster cage and keep Loneliness company.

They journeyed home on the metro, with the twins playing games on Adrien’s phone, Hugo on his own phone, and Adrien sitting between them, completely ignored. Some family outing.

But Hugo had taken his hand, and that had been…something. He couldn’t define it yet, but it felt like progress.

In many ways – ways that raised yet more sentimonster biology questions – his eldest son reminded him of Felix. Felix, too, had never been much for emotional outpourings and lengthy dialogue. Those were Adrien qualities. Yet, Felix did have those emotions. He was a well you had to dip a tentative bucket into, to draw up the water a little at a time, knowing that somewhere at the bottom, in the darkness, was a river sourcing that water.

Hugo surely had such depths, too. And maybe, just maybe, today Adrien had managed to draw up the first bucket.

Chapter Text

Adrien was marginally drunk for the first time in his life. Not smashed, as Felix might have said, but tipsy enough to let his words flow like the wine he’d found in the cellar of the barren remains of the Agreste mansion.

‘I’m telling you, I’m going to seal off the basement and raze the tower to the ground,’ he declared, a glass in his hand. He sat on his bed in his enormous bedroom, the one room that still had anything in it, though that too was half in boxes, his childhood possessions preparing to head to new destinations.

‘You could rebuild the tower,’ Felix suggested, beside him. ‘Make a block of apartments and rent them out to generate more income.’

Adrien patted him on the shoulder. ‘That’s you, Felix. The thinker. The planner.’

He gave a faint smile. ‘What will you do about the missiles?’

‘Oh, that. It’s fine.’ Adrien waved away the matter. ‘I spoke to someone who spoke to someone who spoke to someone in the government or something. An anti-terrorist unit. They’re dismantling everything over the coming month.’

‘While we’re away.’

Adrien nodded and knocked back more wine.

Felix stopped him with his hand. ‘I think you’ve had enough.’

‘Maybe,’ Adrien admitted, staring into his wine glass wistfully, wishing it would magically refill itself so he could drink himself into the ground.

Felix glanced behind them, at a small box on the other side of the bed. ‘Plagg. You allow your holder to lose himself like this?’

The kwami popped out of the box with a hunk of cheese. ‘I don’t control him. Besides – he’s an adult.’

Felix looked like he disagreed. He stood and held out a hand to his twin. ‘Come on, brother. It’s time.’

For a moment, Adrien forgot what he meant. Then he remembered. The diaries.

‘Mind if I…stay here with the cheese?’ Plagg asked.

Adrien waved this away too. ‘Enjoy. Just listen for the door. Let Marinette in when she gets here.’ Then he followed Felix out of the room.

They wound their way through the mansion, which was now nearly empty and echoed with the sound of their footsteps, like an old cave. Adrien shivered even though it was summer and all those tiles retained the outside heat.

They headed for the back garden, where earlier in the day Felix had helped him carry out Gabriel’s diaries. They lay in an irreverent heap in front of Emilie’s stone memorial, which was overgrown with red roses, the climbing variety, their thorns scraping Emilie’s face. Over the years, Adrien had sometimes plucked them to give to Ladybug or Marinette, but that afternoon they looked slightly sinister.

‘His diaries really would fetch a fortune, if we sold them,’ Felix said, his hands clasped behind his back. He’d arrived a few weeks earlier and read through the books before they’d come to this agreement.

‘But then the world would know what we are,’ Adrien countered. They’d already had this discussion too many times to count, and he knew Felix’s reply, word for word.

‘We could edit them down. Rip out the pages that relate to us.’

‘But we’d be making money off Gabriel’s insanity,’ Adrien said.

‘Better to get something out of it than nothing, surely.’

‘But his words would be out there, in someone else’s hands, influencing them and creating more monsters. Real monsters, not like….’

‘Not like us,’ Felix finished.

Adrien nodded, feeling suddenly sober. ‘And no doubt the diaries would be published. We’d see them everywhere and hear Gabriel echoing into eternity. We’d never get him out of our lives, Fe.’

Felix sighed heavily. ‘There really is only one thing for it, then.’

‘Only one thing.’ Adrien popped the book of matches out of his pocket. ‘I suppose this is the closest we’ll ever get to a funeral for the man. Any final words?’

His twin tilted his head and stared at the mountain of diaries, the final record of their family history. His eyes looked unusually misty. ‘I’m sorry I never got to meet the prototype. The visions you saw in the time burrow suggest that he might have been a good man – a good father. The man who wrote those diaries was none of those things.’

Adrien had had similar thoughts. ‘And yet…I hope he found peace.’

‘I’m just relieved that peace is nowhere near us.’

In that, they were agreed.

Adrien struck one of the matches and tossed it onto the pile, then another and another, watching them ignite on the edges of the paper, until the diaries had become a bonfire, and the twins took several steps back.

‘Well.’ Felix tucked his hands in his pockets. ‘That’s…bigger than I expected.’

‘Yeah, it’s…is it safe?’

A moment later, Adrien had his answer. The flames licked the roses, racing up the stems until Emilie was engulfed in fire. Worse, it was spreading to a neighbouring tree the rose had wrapped itself around.

‘I’ll ring the fire department,’ Felix said in his laconic way. ‘Maybe you can do some sort of Cat Noir thing.’ He went back in the house, his phone to his ear.

Cat Noir thing. Or maybe a Ladybug thing?

Adrien searched the garden until he found a hose, tangled up from disuse. He unravelled it as much as possible and aimed it at the fire, dowsing it but not putting it out completely. Thankfully, the sound of sirens blared over the garden walls, and a minute later there were firemen pushing him out of the way and ploughing through with much better equipment.

When the fire was out, all that remained was a large lump of ashes with blackened pieces of notebooks on the stone ground. The roses had been burned away, revealing Emilie’s statue, also black. With those blank eyes, she looked like some kind of underworld goddess on her throne, casting judgment.

‘What were you two doing?’ one of the firemen demanded of Adrien.

It was Felix who answered. ‘Having a funeral.’

‘Have it at a funeral home, like normal people!’ the fireman scolded.

The twins shared a grin.

Then Adrien noticed her – Marinette, watching them through the glass doors at the back of the mansion. At first, she was like a phantom. He’d imagined her and sometimes even hallucinated her when he’d stayed up all night reading those morbid diaries, often forgetting to eat anything until he grew dizzy with hunger. Now, he only believed she was truly there when he saw one of the firefighters say something to her.

He raced across the garden, nearly knocking down another fireman. In the mansion, he pulled her into a deep hug. How long had it been since he’d seen her? A month? Two? It felt like an eternity.

When he drew back, he saw that her eyes were wet and shining. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, wiping her tears away.

‘You’re asking me that?’ She gestured with her chin at the firefighters, who were speaking with Felix in the garden. ‘You disappear on me all this time, then call me over and this is what you’re up to?’

‘I can explain,’ he said, already unsure he could. There was…too much, and it was suddenly heaping on top of him like all those books in the garden.

She stared up at him, still several inches shorter than him and still with that painfully kissable mouth that made him want to forget all his plans, sweep her into his arms and carry her up the stairs to his room. Felix could wait.

A firefighter came through and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Hey. My thoughts are with you and your family.’

Adrien blinked at him. ‘Um. Thank you.’

The firefighter gave a solemn nod before walking away, followed by his team members who gave Adrien similar commiserations and left the mansion one by one.

Felix finally entered the mansion and nodded once at Marinette in greeting, before turning to his brother. ‘I explained things to them.’

‘I wish someone would explain things to me,’ Marinette snapped, audibly at the end of her patience.

‘We were burning Gabriel’s diaries,’ Felix said.

Her eyes grew large. ‘Gabriel’s…diaries?’ She looked up at Adrien for confirmation.

‘I…found them in a safe in his room. Along with…you know…schematics for the dome, including military-grade missiles.’

Somehow her eyes grew larger still. ‘Missiles? Like…right next to this house?’

Adrien nodded. ‘Gabriel was a special man. Anyway, the diaries contained all sorts of damning evidence about Felix and me. Not to mention a lot of insanity. So, we burned them. It was Plagg’s idea.’ He pointed at his kwami, who had just flown in to join them and now looked ready to leave again.

Marinette pulled herself out of Adrien’s grasp and turned on the kwami, shooting him a glare that was all Guardian. ‘Plagg.’

‘Hey! I didn’t know they’d take it so seriously! Oh, hey there, Sugarcube, long time no see.’ Tikki had flown out of Marinette’s bag and was casting each of them looks of plain disbelief.

Felix leaned against a wall. ‘The firefighters said next time we should dig a pit first, line it with stones and…you know. Do it somewhere far away from plants and other flammables.’

‘Next time?’ Marinette repeated. ‘There won’t be a next time. Tell him, Adrien.’

But Adrien was already heading back out into the garden to inspect the damage. He picked up one of the notebooks. Although mostly destroyed, it was partly readable:

That damned cat is the worst of them. No grace or style. Utterly in love with himself. Posturing through every battle, as if this were all a game. As if my whole heart and soul were not at stake, here. When I finally get my hands on him, I will –

The words ended there, but Adrien remembered how the sentence finished. Not in a fatherly way.

He heard footsteps and sensed the others coming out to join him, stopping just behind him.

Marinette touched his shoulder. ‘Adrien.’ She didn’t say anything more. What was there to say?

‘Felix,’ Adrien said without turning. ‘You suggested I do some sort of Cat Noir thing.’

There was a pause. ‘Indeed,’ he said in a low voice.

Adrien nodded. ‘Plagg – claws out,’ he said softly, transforming. ‘Cataclysm.’ One by one, he touched the remaining pieces of books until there was nothing but black ash on the ground. Then he stood back, breathing hard, and felt Marinette take his clawed hand.

‘That’s…probably what you should have done at the start,’ she said, her tone solemn.

‘I found the fire much more satisfying for the soul,’ Felix said at his other side.

Adrien agreed. ‘Claws in,’ he said. De-transformed, he turned to his brother. ‘Could you…take Tikki and Plagg, and give us a minute?’

Felix gave a trained bow and turned his attention to the hovering kwamis. ‘Shall we?’

Plagg joined him immediately, while Tikki looked at Marinette with obvious question marks in her eyes. Although Adrien had spent the last seven years building this bond with his twin, and Plagg had grown used to him, Tikki had not.

‘Although you may be alone with me, the ring and earrings will not,’ Felix said. He spread his hands to show that he had nothing. ‘There are still some biscuits in the kitchen.’

Tikki perked up, but still looked to Marinette, who smiled and gave one small nod. Then Tikki flew off with Plagg and Felix, who led them to the other side of the mansion, leaving Adrien alone with Marinette and…his secret. He swallowed at the thought of what he had to tell her.

‘Adrien, what is this? What’s wrong?’ She reached up for him and ran her fingers through a lock of his hair before settling her palm on his cheek, which he leaned into with a soft little moan.

Then the words tumbled from his lips. ‘I’m…going away for a while.’

Her hand dropped and she took a step back. ‘What? How long is a while?’

‘Months. Maybe longer. We’re not sure yet.’

‘We? You mean, you and….’ He could see the pieces slotting together, in her eyes. ‘Felix. That’s why he’s here. He’s going with you.’

He nodded.

‘But…we were going to move in together. After you sold the mansion, you –’

‘I know. And I still want all of that, but….’ He sighed. His head was throbbing with exhaustion after the day’s excitement. ‘I really need to figure some things out before I can jump into that life with you.’

‘But you only just graduated. What about work?’

He laughed quietly. ‘I don’t really need to work. I want to, but…I can afford to wait.’

‘And Felix? What about his job? He’s just…dropping everything with you?’

Felix the genius, who had completed university two years ago, top of the class, with a degree in politics from Oxbridge. Who had people clawing at the gate to hire his brilliant mind, while he whiled away his time in the kind of decadent excess that surprised no one.

‘He needs this trip as much as I do,’ Adrien said.

She stepped further away, getting some distance, studying him, maybe trying to work out who this person was whom she no longer recognised. ‘You stop answering my calls, hardly answer my messages, and now you’re just…leaving me?’ It wasn’t possible for eyes to express greater disbelief.

‘No, no, no.’ He shook his head. ‘Not leaving you. Going away.’

‘How is that different?’

‘Marinette.’ He stepped forward and recaptured her hands, holding them to his heart. ‘I will never leave you. But I need…time. Space. I need to figure myself out.’ He bit his lip. How did he explain this? ‘You see all this empty space in the mansion?’

He gestured with his hand at the barren room they stood in, and she nodded.

‘Well, that’s me. After I emptied everything out, there was nothing left. I’m blank, Marinette, and I need to fill up my rooms, or…something. To be honest, I’m having a hard time with words here, but listen. You and all our friends…you all have everything planned out and thought through. But I’ve…I’ve just been going through the motions and sorting through everything in the house and realising I don’t…have much that’s mine. No family besides Felix. I know there’s his mother, but who is she to me, really? I’m…I’m alone.’

‘You’re not alone, Adrien. You have me and –’

‘I know. But family…Marinette, this is important to me. You…you have your parents and your grandparents and your uncle over in Shanghai. You have such a strong sense of heritage and where you come from and where you’re going. I have none of that. Sometimes I don’t even feel like I belong to the human race. I get these questions in my head that can’t be answered and no one can really explain things to me. So, I thought I’d….’ He pursed his lips, hardly able to speak his plans aloud. What would she think?

She pressed his hand, searching his face with her eyes. ‘You’d what, Adrien?’

He took a breath. ‘I need you to put me in touch with Master Su-Han. We’re going to visit the Order of the Guardians. To ask questions about sentimonsters.’

She gasped. ‘You really…think they’ll give you the answers you seek?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe…or maybe not. But it…it just feels like what we need to do.’

‘But Adrien – why don’t I come with you? I’m a Guardian, too, after all, and we could fly there so easily as Astro Cat and Cosmo Bug.’

He was already shaking his head. ‘I need to do this without you, M’lady. I don’t know if this will make sense to you but…you’ve always been the one in charge. You take care of me, and you always have. You’ve saved me from all those falls, brought me back from the brink, and…well, I’ve been at the brink again lately, and I can’t keep expecting you to save me. I need to save myself.’

‘You’ve done that before, Adrien. You saved me, even…remember?’

He smiled. ‘Of course. But this….’ He scratched his head, trying to think of a way to put it. ‘I read this book, once. Actually, it was…Ladybug and Cat Noir fan fiction.’

Her eyebrow arched. ‘You…read fan fiction about us?’

‘So, it was called The Hardest Things Come After. I guess that’s what I’ve been going through. The after. And I need to work it out for myself, so I can stand beside you as an equal.’

She looked like she was trying so desperately hard to understand, but some part of her heart was fighting it off – didn’t want to accept any of this as logical or okay, because that would mean letting him go.

‘I promise I’ll be back,’ he said. ‘I’ll prove it to you.’ He removed his ring and dropped onto one knee before her, holding one of her hands in his.

‘Adrien, what are you…what are you doing?’ she stammered out, reminding him of the girl he’d first met all those years ago.

‘I think I’m proposing, but let me make sure I get this right. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I have been in love with you ever since I first laid eyes on you. Well…on Ladybug. But that’s you, too, so. Yeah. It counts. And that day when I gave you that umbrella…I loved you as Marinette, too. I just didn’t allow myself to see it. You made me crazy twice over, until you made me the happiest boy on earth. You know, there are a lot of guys out there who dream of two women at the same time, and I got it in the most wholesome way possible.’

‘Have you…been drinking?’

‘That’s not the point. The point is that I adore you wildly and with all my heart and every part of me, whether I’m Adrien or Cat Noir or any other ridiculous identity I decide to wear for the day. You’re just everything, the only anchor in this crazy ocean of life, and while I’m gone I want you to focus on your career dreams and make every single one of them come true, but wait for me please because I will come back to you, Marinette, I swear, and when I do, I want to marry you. Please, please, please say you want that too.’

Her eyes were watering again, and she held his hand more tightly. ‘I do,’ she whispered, as though they were already up there at the wedding service together.

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ he said, standing again. ‘And we can have three kids.’

‘Hugo, Louis and Emma,’ she said in a choked voice.

‘And the hamster. Don’t forget the hamster.’

She laughed and wiped her eyes with her free hand. ‘How could I ever forget the hamster?’

He slid his miraculous onto the ring finger of her left hand. Plagg popped back in with them, stared in confusion, and flew away again.

Adrien gestured at her hand. ‘Marinette...this is my promise to you.’

She stared down at the ring. ‘Your miraculous is my engagement ring?’

‘For now. I’ll get you something better when I’m away. I hope that’s okay. To be honest, that bonfire is kind of representational of the inside of my brain lately. I’m a mess, M’lady, but…when I come back to you, I’ll be a good kitty again.’

She continued to stare at the ring – then slowly looked up at him, smiling through her tears, which were flowing fast. ‘You’re always a good kitty, Adrien.’

She threw her arms around him and kissed him, and he kissed her back, relishing the feeling. Then he dragged her by the hand, out of the room and up the stairs to his room, closing the door behind them, to say one last long goodbye before he left.

Chapter Text

It should have been a bakery day, but Adrien decided to take the day off. He didn’t like to leave Tom and Sabine hanging, but he really needed to work on this next paper, and he didn’t seem to be focusing in the evenings. As soon as he got the twins to bed, he was checking his phone every five seconds to see if an hour had gone by, missing Marinette and wondering when the hell Hugo would be home.

He sat at the kitchen table, with two cups of tea because he’d definitely want a second, and getting up to make it would disrupt his concentration further. The table was littered with books, a notepad, pens in multiple colours, highlighters, sticky tabs, and his laptop.

His topic this time was children who were adamant they’d been switched at birth and their parents weren’t really their parents. Like that old novel, The Invasion of the Body Snatchers – on the surface, a story about an alien invasion, but at its core, the expression of a feeling all too human. A moment of epiphany when you sensed that the people around you weren’t who you thought they were and maybe they’d been hiding their true faces from you for years without you noticing.

Like finding out your father was an evil supervillain and you were a sentimonster.

He tapped at his laptop, unsure what to write. This topic was too large, somehow.

When he realised he’d been spacing out, he glanced at his tea. Both cups were empty. He must have drunk them in a thought-haze. So much for staying focused.

He got up and crossed the kitchen to water Rosemary, running his fingers down her lovely leaves. ‘Beautiful as ever, M’Lady,’ he murmured to her. Then he stared out the window, at the street. At the cars parked in front of other apartments holding their own secrets.

Maybe he needed a hobby. It was a shame he hadn’t kept up the piano since the children were born. The fencing, either. At least the Mandarin came in handy when he video-called Marinette’s great-uncle in Shanghai from time to time. He exercised his tongue, if not the rest of his body.

He glanced down at his arms. He was by no means fat, but he’d definitely lost the muscle tone of his youth. One of these days, he would take up a new exercise regime. Something to make up for no longer swinging across rooftops.

How he missed swinging across rooftops.

He made himself another two cups of tea – strong pu-erh, traditionally used in meditation practices to activate the mind. He could do with some mental activation.

Then he sat at the table again and stared once more at the empty document on his laptop screen.

…when you sense that the people around you are not who you thought they were….

Would Hugo one day have that moment of epiphany? Would he too somehow find out what his father really was and look upon him as a stranger? After all these years of proclaiming himself a paragon of honesty, was Adrien nothing more than a liar?

Suddenly the room felt too small. The apartment, even – like it was shrinking in on him. He needed to get out. Clear his head. Maybe he’d find his writing inspiration somewhere else.

He gathered up the most essential books and dumped them into a bag that he slung over his shoulder, along with his laptop bag, then headed out. It was overcast today but it didn’t look like it would rain. Funny how as a teenager the sky had always seemed to be sunny and the moon always full, and it only ever rained when he felt sad. That was probably childish fancy. The moon could not be full every night of the month.

It had been many years since he’d been any kind of ‘star’, and his former fans had grown up and given way to a new generation who didn’t really know the name Adrien Agreste. Still, occasionally someone recognised him in the street, so he kept his head down and attempted to render himself invisible until he stepped into a café he liked. They made nice tea, even if the options were limited to the standard mint, chamomile, berry, or chai.

He scrolled through his phone while he queued at the counter, again hoping that if he absorbed himself enough, he would wrap himself in an aura no one could see through. The worst thing about being recognised these days was the questions about what he was up to now. He had an answer ready, about devoting his life to his wife and children, which was basically true but left out all salient details. He just wasn’t in the mood for it, now. One of these days, someone might catch him in the wrong frame of mind, and he might give them the full story.

There was a notification on his Scrabble app, letting him know that Felix had finally made his latest move. ‘Quixotry’ for 365 points. Where was the ‘resign’ button?

Marinette had posted to her social media feed – a photo of fabric scraps topped with a gleaming set of cloth scissors, captioned, ‘Working on Amandine’s next dress!’

And there were more pictures of Nino and Alya, loved up somewhere. Honestly, did they ever stop taking happy selfies? There had to be more to it, hadn’t there? Not that he was wishing for his best friends to have a secretly miserable marriage. It just…might not upset him as he knew it should.

No, no. They were definitely happy. And that was good. He was glad for them. Really. He was not thinking again about the way Marinette had vanished for days after giving him that ray of hope for all of a fortnight.

‘Adrien?’ a voice interrupted his thoughts.

He froze. Someone had penetrated the bubble he’d been trying to create around himself – and he knew exactly who. What he didn’t know was why she was here, of all places.

Slowly, he raised his head and plastered on that winning smile. ‘Lila! Fancy seeing you here!’

She leaned in for a hug he was not prepared for, and he hung limply in her arms before giving her a weak pat on the back, then extricating himself.

‘No, really,’ he said, his voice dull. ‘What are the chances?’

‘Right?’ She beamed and let out a musical laugh. ‘I’m staying right around the corner. I come here every day. It’s my café. They all know me already. Isn’t that charming?’

‘…yeah.’

Lila was living a few blocks away from their apartment? Maybe it was a good thing Marinette was never home.

‘What about you?’ She touched his shoulder in a way that implied more familiarity than he felt comfortable with. ‘You come here often?’

He blinked at the cheap chat-up line. That could not be what was happening here. Absolutely. Could. Not. This was all a coincidence. A joke someone was playing on him. ‘I…live right near here, too. They do nice tea.’

‘Huh. I never pegged you as a tea person.’ She was leaning back and scrutinising him like he’d just thrown her whole world view into turmoil.

‘Oh?’ he said because he had no idea what else to say.

‘Definitely a coffee man, that’s what I thought.’

‘…okay.’ It was his turn in the queue and he placed his order, then stood aside and waited for his pastry and large chai. Lila ordered next and waited next to him, standing a little too close. He took a step away, but she didn’t appear to notice.

‘So, what makes the tea so nice here?’ she asked with a light toss of her hair over her shoulder.

‘They, um. They don’t overdo the cloves.’

Her brow lifted, then she burst out laughing and touched his shoulder again. ‘You’ve always been so funny, Adrien.’

‘Yeah, that’s…what everyone always said about me.’ His memory bank flashed through all the times he’d been called annoying or given an eye roll when he’d made a joke as Cat Noir. Even Nino had once proclaimed him ‘obnoxious’.

Their orders were handed across, and Adrien headed for a small table – technically for two but he hoped for one – tucked into the back of the café, away from other tables and partially in shadow.

His heart sank when Lila sat down across from him. ‘It’s quite a table you’ve chosen,’ she said. ‘Like you don’t want to be bothered or something.’

‘I don’t.’

Her brow rose again, and she mouthed an oh. ‘I’m sorry. I’m intruding, aren’t I.’

This was his opportunity to say, ‘Yes, now if you don’t mind, please scurry on your way and never talk to me again, because I can’t afford to have yet another conversation with you on my conscience. Oh, why haven’t I told my wife, you ask? That’s a great question, but I’m not going to answer it because it’s time for you to be off – forever.’

But he was Adrien Agreste, not Gabriel Agreste, and manners prickled at his conscience. Before he could take it back, he said, ‘Of course, I didn’t mean you, Lila. I meant strangers.’

She laughed again. ‘In a way, we’re almost like strangers now. And yet, I feel like we’re not. Isn’t it funny how you can be away from someone for so many years and then it’s like no time passed at all? We just pick right back up where we left off! That’s a sign of true friendship.’

‘…yeah.’

Holding a tall coffee, she reclined in a soft armchair, one long leg crossed over the other. Of course they were bare, extending from a very short and very tight skirt. Unlike him, she was definitely hoping to be disturbed by strangers.

He started picking at his pastry, feeling traitorous to the Dupain-Chengs. This pastry wasn’t as good as theirs, or any he made himself. But it was nice to have someone make something for him, for a change.

‘What’s in all your bags?’ Lila asked.

‘Oh. I came here to work on this paper for my master’s.’

‘Oh? What paper is this?’

‘It’s on…children convinced they’ve been switched at birth.’

He waited for her to tell him this was a crazy subject to be researching. Instead, she leaned back again, uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. He scooted back in his armchair like prey evading a predator. Like a hamster, maybe, trying to escape a cat.

‘What an interesting subject,’ she said. ‘What made you choose that? Or was it just assigned?’

Okay, not the reaction he expected….

‘Well. It was on a list of potential topics, and it leapt out at me. I supposed because….’ He let the words dry out.

No, no, he couldn’t explain this. He hadn’t even told his own children. And he and Marinette had agreed years ago that they couldn’t share the sentimonster thing with the world. It would sow mistrust and fear. Maybe he and Felix would even become the subjects of government science experimentation.

Maybe they already were. That would explain why he was in his current predicament. There had to be cameras hidden in the café.

‘It’s because your father turned out to be someone you didn’t think he was,’ Lila said.

Adrien stopped searching for cameras, his gaze darting back to her. Her insight was spot on, even if not the whole explanation. ‘Yes, that’s…uncannily observant of you.’

She nodded, a glint in her dark eyes belying the scintillating intelligence that lay beneath the calculated sexuality. ‘Did you feel betrayed?’

‘You mean, like you did?’ he blurted.

She smiled. ‘Exactly.’

He ran a hand over his hair. ‘I guess I did. But I shouldn’t have. I mean…he was never what I’d describe as a nice man…you know?’

‘Sometimes that makes it worse. Because he had moments, didn’t he? That’s why I was drawn to him. He was charming and encouraging enough to lure me in without knowing. Then he just…snapped his fingers and let me go.’ She snapped her own now, making Adrien jump.

What a visual for her to select. Of all things, the finger snapping.

His heart too fast, he demolished his pastry. ‘You’re right. He did have his moments. Like when he made his first public appearance since Em…my mother died. I was doing a fashion show after the first Style Queen incident, and he…just walked down that runway and hugged me. In front of all those people.’

‘That must have been really emotional for you,’ she said.

‘It was.’ Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop himself. ‘It was the first hug he’d given me in a year…and I was so starved for his affection – any kind of affection, I guess – that I sank into that hug and took it like a precious gift. And then…it was gone again. We went back to normal. Back to him never being around, and me having to schedule breakfast with him a month in advance. Back to him working long hours and me in a big empty bed and….’

He cut himself off in alarm, hoping Lila hadn’t noticed his slip but knowing she absolutely had.

‘…big empty bed?’ she echoed. ‘Are we still talking about Gabriel, here? If so, I think you might be about to give me a heart attack.’

He laughed, not because it was funny but because it was awful. ‘No, no!’ He waved his hands frantically in the air. ‘God, no. I…I was talking about….’

‘Marinette…?’ Her voice was soft with sympathy he didn’t want.

He grabbed his tea and took a long sip, savouring the spice in his throat.

‘I am so sorry, Adrien.’ Lila set down her coffee and reached across the table, covering his free hand. ‘I knew there was trouble in paradise, but I didn’t think it was that bad.’

He withdrew his hand and shoved it under the table, out of her reach. ‘You…you knew?’

She nodded, folding her hands over each other on the tabletop. He could see down her silk top, right down to the detail of her lace bra, which didn’t cover much.

He forced his eyes to stay on hers. ‘How did you know?’

‘Oh, Adrien. People give themselves away. And….’ She eased back in the chair. ‘…Hugo mentioned it.’

He nearly choked on his tea. ‘Hugo? When did you talk to Hugo?’

‘I ran into him in this café, actually.’

‘That’s….’ Was that a coincidence?

‘He seemed a little scared of me.’ She laughed, touching her chest, her fingers an arrow to her cleavage. ‘Can you imagine? Me?’

‘Teenagers, eh?’ Adrien drank down more tea, wondering if there was maybe a cougar miraculous. If so, Lila definitely had it. Maybe it was her bra. And her kwami was named Grr.

Could a miraculous be a bra?

If it could be a pair of sunglasses, then why the hell not?

Come to think of it, why had the Order of the Guardians chosen a pair if sunglasses? Hadn’t they disappeared, like, a hundred years or something before the Feast incident?

‘When were sunglasses invented?’ he thought out loud.

Lila looked thrown by this change in subject. ‘I’m…not sure.’

He whipped out his phone. ‘Huh. The twelfth century. Who would’ve thought?’ Still. They couldn’t have looked like Ray-Bans a century ago…could they?

Those sly monks, with their time travelling and seeing into the future.

‘Adrien. I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t. I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal business.’

And yet, you’re bringing us back to this subject because you absolutely do mean to intrude. Do you really live nearby? Did you move there after finding out where we live?

No, this had to stop. He would not fall into Marinette’s paranoia about this woman.

But she’s been talking to Hugo. And he didn’t tell me.

But I’m talking to her now and I’m not telling anyone.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, even though it wasn’t, and he drank more tea.

‘No, it really isn’t. Here I am, just dropped back into your life out of nowhere, and I start asking all these questions about your failing marriage –’

‘Hey. It’s not failing.’

She put up her hands in surrender. ‘Sorry. I guess I got the wrong impression. I’ll say no more.’ She picked up her coffee and sipped at it, watching him closely over the lid.

‘No, no. What gave you that impression?’ Too late, he realised he’d just fallen into a trap. He was having exactly the conversation she wanted to have, and the one he didn’t.

‘Well.’ She let the syllable linger. She knew she had him on the hook and now she was reeling him in. He felt the line. ‘Hugo told me Marinette’s hardly ever home, and when she is, things are tense. You don’t talk much, or you argue. You’ve spent some time on the sofa.’

He wanted to be outraged at this woman coming back into his life and saying these things to him. Yet all he could think was…. ‘Hugo noticed all that?’

‘Adrien.’ Her face melted into sympathy. ‘You know kids…sense things. You really thought he wouldn’t notice?’

No, he never imagined they could hide the tension from their children, especially not their eldest.

‘You know….’ She hesitated, as if unsure she should say what she wanted to say…but she would say it anyway. ‘Maybe some of this is normal. I mean…it’s natural for couples to get so used to each other that there isn’t anything left to discover. That’s the beauty of marriage, isn’t it? Knowing each other so well that there’s nothing new anymore.’ She smiled like this was a compliment, when it was the backhanded opposite.

‘And.’ She leaned forward again, as if to impart something that required a lower voice. A lower neckline, certainly. ‘I hear it’s totally normal not to have much sex anymore.’

‘I have plenty of sex,’ Adrien said – too loudly. His plan not to attract attention had failed. Everyone in the café was staring at him now. He sighed and settled back in his armchair.

Lila smiled and eased back as well. ‘Okay. I’m sorry I brought it up.’

She wasn’t sorry at all. She was sowing seeds of doubt and worry, and he needed to fight it. Yet he found himself asking, ‘What do you mean you hear all of this is normal?’

‘Well. I mean. I’m not married. I don’t have children. I can’t begin to relate to what you’re going through.’ The implications hung between them over the table.

Was it his imagination or was she suggesting something? Maybe even…offering.

He shook himself. ‘Well, you’ve heard wrong, Lila.’ He tacked her name at the end to remind himself just who he was dealing with. ‘It’s true that I wish I could spend more time with Marinette – but that’s only because she’s my best friend in the world. In any world. It’s been her and me ever since we met. We might be going through a rough patch, but we’ll get through it just like we’ve got through every other hardship we’ve been through before. Nothing will break us. Our marriage is not failing.’

Lila smiled back. ‘That’s beautiful, Adrien. And I’m so glad Marinette feels the same way.’

More seeds sown. Because, of course, he hadn’t said anything about how Marinette felt. And sometimes he did worry that she felt differently.

But their relationship was founded on trust and honesty. Maybe not in the beginning, but certainly once Gabriel was gone. They had made vows to each other, and he would trust her now.

So, with conviction, he said, ‘She does.’

Lila nodded and downed the last of her drink, then set the cup on the table with finality. ‘Well, I’ve finished my coffee and…I have somewhere to be. I’m actually meeting a man for…. Well, anyway.’ She laughed lightly. ‘You don’t want to hear about my love life. But of course, I’m always here to listen when you need to talk, Adrien. You and me…we’re tied. I think that’s why we keep running into each other.’

You sure you aren’t just following me?

She stood and collected her bag, then came round the table to him, leaning down lower than ever and kissing him on the cheek as if they were friends. ‘Always good to see you, Adrien,’ she murmured in a sultry voice. Then she straightened, flicked her hair over her shoulder, and headed out of the café.

Only when she was gone did he let out the breath he’d been holding.

‘A viper,’ he muttered, not caring that he was talking to himself in public. ‘Not like Sass. Something else. An anaconda, maybe. Called…Toxxicity. That’s her miraculous.’

He checked the time on his phone. He’d lost an hour to that craziness, not to mention all grasp on what he was meant to be doing.

Sitting in that café a minute longer, he wouldn’t get his paper done. He felt dirty all over, like he needed to take a shower, and maybe do some of those old breathing exercises to rebalance himself.

And…not tell Marinette a word of what had happened.

‘Trust and honesty,’ he murmured as he picked up his bags, his heart throbbing in his chest.

Chapter Text

True to her word, Marinette put Adrien in touch with Master Su-Han, who had settled into his Parisien apartment with startling ease and now spent most of his time playing video games – ‘to understand the modern world,’ he claimed.

Adrien offered him a large chunk of his personal collection, which he was offloading, now that the mansion was on the market. In return for the games, all he wanted was the location of the Order of the Guardians – precise directions.

He expected some obscure guidance on how to get into Tibet. How he and Felix would get there was anyone’s guess, bearing in mind Tibet had been consumed by China, with limited access. Many Tibetans had fled to neighbouring countries – Nepal, Bhutan, India. The Guardians might have done similar. After all, a temple magically reappearing after more than a century in a region that had been taken over politically…? Surely the Chinese government wouldn’t let that stand. There would have been questioning and investigations and….

But as it turned out, Marinette had kept a Guardian secret: she’d once loaned Kaalki to the Order, who had relocated before things could get ugly – specifically, to the south of France.

‘To be nearer the miracle box,’ Su-Han explained. ‘Here’s the address.’

Adrien took the slip of paper from him. The Order now lived in Provence. The temple had been so close, all this time.

‘I’ll book the train,’ Felix said. ‘We can hire someone to drive us from the station.’

Adrien nodded. He’d never got his licence, either. There’d never been a need, in a city like Paris. ‘How do you get back to the temple?’ he asked Su-Han, who surely hadn’t learned how to drive.

‘I dash over rooftops.’

‘Of course you do.’ Adrien tucked the paper into his jeans pocket. ‘Will they accept us? I don’t want to go all that way and be turned away at the door.’

‘They will admit you,’ Su-Han said. ‘They know all about you two. Our modern-day Cat Noir – and his cousin who once flirted with evil.’

Felix grinned at this description.

After a final tearful goodbye with Marinette, Adrien joined Felix at the station and boarded a cross-country train from Paris to Aix-en-Provence. It took more than four hours, though the stunning views out Adrien’s window seat made the journey feel shorter than it was.

Occasionally, they spoke. But most of the time, Felix had his nose in a book – some philosophical thing called What Is a Law of Nature? by D. M. Armstrong.

Adrien pulled out his own book – an old sci-fi novel called Rogue Moon by Algis Budrys. The title was a bit of a misnomer because it wasn’t really about the moon. It was more of a character study, about a top-secret teleportation experiment to send a man to the moon. But rather than sending you from one place to another, a replica was created on the moon…to die. The memories were shared between replica and original, so that a version of the protagonist remembered dying again and again and again….

He’d never related to a book more.

Aix was one of those charmingly gorgeous towns you only found in the south of France, nestled deep in the foothills of the Alps, though the foothills were mammoth enough. The streets were lined with sand-coloured houses in that provincial architectural style, and there were trees everywhere, and viewpoints where you could stare out at the valleys and peaks stretching out for miles and feel smaller than you’d ever felt in life. The smell of lavender was overpowering.

The ‘temple’ turned out to be an unremarkable albeit very large house – sandy coloured block with wooden window shutters and foliage snaking along the walls, as though the very building were in bloom. Flowers were everywhere, bearing the signs of being shaped and pruned with great love and care.

Felix knocked on the front door, and they waited. Just as Adrien began to think they’d got the wrong address, the door opened, revealing a man dressed much like Su-Han, in a deep red robe and bare feet.

He took in the two young men on the doorstep – one in jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt, the other in crisply pressed trousers and a button-down shirt – and smiled. ‘Adrien and Felix! We’ve been expecting you. I am Bodhan. Come in, come in!’

Inside, the floorboards were bare and there was virtually no furniture, aside from a simple wooden table at the centre, carved with Chinese ideograms. There were cushions all over, perhaps for kneeling. The back doors were open, and all the windows, letting a gentle breeze drift through, which was needed because it was mid-summer and swelteringly hot. Adrien had already been bitten by mosquitos – one of the less glamorous aspects of that glorious region.

‘Is it just you?’ Adrien asked.

Bodhan held his hands together in front of him. ‘The others are at the market today. We make our own products – lavender soaps, candles, that sort of thing – and sell them to sustain us here.’

Felix arched an eyebrow. ‘How many of you are there?’

‘Eleven.’

‘Plus Su-Han is twelve.’ Felix spoke to himself, his tone suggesting he derived some deeper meaning from the number.

‘We’ll contribute for our stay,’ Adrien said. ‘We have plenty of money and don’t wish to intrude upon you.’

Bodhan maintained his smile. ‘We thank you for that. But please – no holder of the black cat miraculous could ever intrude upon the Order. You are the very reason we are here!’

Adrien took a step back. This idea had never crossed his mind. He was so used to being left out of these things. Of course, Marinette would be welcomed like this. But him…?

‘Come into the garden and I will bring you some tea.’ Bodhan motioned to the back door.

They followed and exited the back of the house, where they found that ‘garden’ was an understatement. The monks owned who even knew how many acres of land, with a view that opened up over a deep valley carved between two towering mountain peaks. Between those peaks, the sky went on forever.

Adrien glanced at his twin, who had his hands in his pockets and an appraising look on his face. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Hm…. I was wondering how they obtained this space. It couldn’t have been cheap.’

‘We have connections with patron families going back centuries,’ Bodhan said, suddenly behind them.

Adrien jumped. The monk was handing out two cups of tea. Adrien and Felix took the tea and followed their host to a wrought-iron table and chairs encircled by more flowers Adrien couldn’t name. But he was seized by a desire to learn those names. It was shameful how little he knew of his own environment.

Sitting at that table with that monk, the enormity of what he’d done finally hit him. Marinette should have come with them. He should have said yes when she’d offered. All that stuff about needing to do this without her…who was he kidding? She was a Guardian. He was the sidekick, the one Master Fu had all but ignored, and whom Su-Han ignored too. He was the one who had to bribe a Guardian with video games to get information. Somehow, he doubted these monks would accept the same bribe. Seeing their austerity made it apparent that Su-Han had been corrupted.

‘I assume Su-Han has explained who we are,’ Felix said, his delivery smooth and enviously nerve-free.

Bodhan nodded. ‘You traded nearly all the miraculous for the peacock.’ He said this without judgment.

Felix’s mouth hung open. Then he collected himself. ‘Don’t you want to know why?’

‘I am indeed curious, as are we all.’ Bodhan didn’t ask for explanation, however.

Felix gave it, anyway. ‘I disagreed with the treatment of sentimonsters.’

Bodhan arched an eyebrow but said nothing.    

Felix glanced at Adrien, who shot back a look he hoped registered as: You think I have the answers?

Bodhan turned his attention on Adrien. ‘So! You are our Cat Noir.’ There was something about the way he said this that made Adrien’s heart skip a beat. As if the man were…honoured to meet him. ‘It has been a long, long time since I have been in the presence of a holder of the cat or ladybug miraculous. And the two of you were so young, as well! Normally only adults possess the miraculous, but I understand that Whiny – I mean, Master Fu – chose the two of you well. Even with a degree of…foresight, shall we say.’

‘You mean because my father was the villain,’ Adrien said.

Bodhan nodded. ‘To fight against one’s own father….’ He tilted his head in consideration. ‘That must have taken a truly strong heart indeed.’

It was the first time anyone had praised him for this action. The man sounded impressed, perhaps even in awe of Adrien’s Luke Skywalker moment.

‘I’m not sure it was a matter of heart,’ Adrien said, shifting in his chair.

Bodhan smiled. ‘In our culture, we believe that we are not the body. So, familial attachments are not real.’ He raised one hand to stay any reply. ‘I do not mean to say that family do not matter. Simply that designations such as father and son…cousin or brother…only pertain to this world…albeit there are deeper ties that bind us, drawing us into these scenarios within this life. There is another world, beyond this one, where only the soul dwells, without the constraints of the physical body. To see beyond the material family designations and to the truth of the world that lies beyond….’ He shrugged. ‘That is not easy, Adrien. And yet, you achieved it. At quite a young age, I might add.’

Was that really what he’d done? Had his disconnection from Gabriel been some sort of act of enlightenment? It certainly was a new take on the matter.

‘Why did you say cousin or brother?’ asked Felix.

Bodhan’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight. ‘I know very well why you took that peacock, Felix. We all do.’

Felix paled. ‘You mean you….’

‘I know you are both sentimonsters.’ Bodhan’s gaze moved between them, his smile never wavering. ‘It is no matter to us, apart from being unusual. Su-Han warned us that you were indistinguishable from other humans, but it is still rather remarkable to see you for myself.’

Adrien’s heart sank. ‘Does that mean you…you’ve never known this to happen before?’

‘Not at all. The term is sentimonster for a reason – even in our native language, there is emphasis on our word for monster. But you two…I have no doubt that I am sitting in the presence of two great men.’

Adrien exchanged another look with his twin. Great men? As if they would…do great things? Both of them? With his child prodigy status and Oxbridge degree in politics, perhaps Felix would become important. But Adrien….?

‘I presume you came here for answers,’ Bodhan said. ‘I am afraid I don’t have them. Even the Grimoires are simply journals written by great masters in the course of their personal explorations.’

‘Then we’ve wasted your time,’ Adrien said, his shoulders sinking.

‘Not at all. I invite you two to stay with us as long as you wish and write Grimoires of your own.’ He eyed Adrien. ‘I am particularly looking forward to the opportunity to guide the wielder of the power of destruction.’

Adrien blinked. ‘You…you are?’

Bodhan nodded and sipped his tea.

Adrien followed his example, surprised at the boldness of the flavour. Even after all those years wielding that power, as the monk had mentioned…somehow Adrien had never truly believed in magic before tasting that tea.

‘How did the Order begin?’ Felix asked.

‘Ah.’ Bodhan gave a sage nod. ‘That is a tale steeped in legend, but I shall tell you that legend.’ He eased back in his chair, clearly enjoying the role of storyteller. ‘It is said that the first Guardians were extremely wise, enlightened souls who were so adept at meditation that they could tap into the very energies of existence. With only the power of concentration, they could focus those energies and condense them into a single container.’

‘The miraculous,’ Adrien said.

‘Indeed. The kwamis, then, are a sort of embodiment of those energies.’

‘But they have personalities. I mean…have you met Plagg?’

Bodhan laughed. ‘We have all met Plagg. But even he – if we can refer to such an abstract concept as he – is more a personification of the energy he represents.’

‘In other words,’ said Felix, ‘your relationship with him is really your relationship with destruction.’

Adrien’s eyes widened. His relationship with destruction? ‘Um…may I have more tea, please?’

Bodhan’s whole face lit up. ‘Of course!’ He took Adrien’s cup and hurried back into the house, to the kitchen.

Adrien sank into a deep reverie over what it meant to roll your eyes at destruction – to laugh at destruction – to love destruction like a little brother. He’d never thought twice about his interactions with Plagg, but…not everyone would form such a relationship with that energy. Gabriel, for instance.

‘So, let me get this straight,’ said Felix once Bodhan had settled back into his chair. ‘What you’re saying implies that all these powers are already there in the universe…for anyone to hold.’

‘That’s right,’ said Bodhan.

‘Even teleportation?’

Bodhan’s smile was back. ‘What is teleportation but seeing through the illusion of space and separation? And what is time travel but seeing through the illusion of time? All these things are material constructs designed for material bodies and minds. But if we see through them, to the heart of all things, we see that we can be anywhere and anytime we wish.’

‘You make that sound so easy,’ Adrien said, recalling his own experience merging the rabbit and the horse miraculous.

‘All things are easy with conviction,’ said Bodhan. ‘There is a German novel I once read in translation, which contains a lovely little anecdote about a man in love with a planet in the sky. Every night, he longs to join the planet, and one night he jumps off a cliff, with the utmost faith that he will launch himself into the heavens and be united with the object of his desire.’

‘And at the last second, he thinks, This is impossible, and he falls to his death,’ Adrien finished.

‘You’ve read it,’ Bodhan said, clearly pleased. ‘So, I will tell you another tale. This one is an ancient Sanskrit legend of a young prince named Prahlada. Have you…heard this one?’

Adrien and Felix shook their heads.

‘Well. I shall double back a bit, to give it context. There were two men – brothers, like you – who stood guard at the gates of Heaven. One day, four young boys approached and requested entrance, but the guards refused them, believing them to be mere children. In fact, the boys were the wisest and oldest of sages and deemed the guards unworthy of their post, for they could not see through the illusions of the body. They could not…see behind the masks, if you will.’ He winked at Adrien.

‘The guards were cursed to take three births each, in the material world. One of them spent his first life in a state of such powerful meditation that he shook the planets, the moons, the stars, until they were in danger of coming to pieces. The gods beseeched Lord Brahma – the creator of the physical universe – to stop this man, so he offered a great boon in exchange for this meditation to cease.

‘The former heavenly guard requested invincibility. Brahma said he could not grant this, but he could grant that the guard not be killed by man or beast, by day or night, indoors or outdoors, or by any weapon forged by man.’

‘There was definitely a catch in there,’ Felix said.

‘Indeed!’ Bodhan laughed. ‘Well, then. The guard incarnated as a tyrannical king named Hiranyakashipu, with a single son named Prahlada, who was a paragon of goodness. Hiranyakashipu hired the best teachers in the land to instruct his son in the ways of becoming a king just like him, but the teachers complained that Prahlada spoke up in contradiction of many of their lessons. He insisted that most of their teachings were irrelevant, for this was not the true reality and more lay beyond it.’

‘How old was he?’ Adrien asked.

‘Five.’

‘And he was already thinking like that?’ Felix wondered.

‘Young children have not yet been moulded to see the constructs we have placed on existence,’ Bodhan said. ‘So, this went on for a time, until Hiranyakashipu was so infuriated by the reports he was given that he ordered that his son be tortured in one form after another, until he gave up his strange ideas.’

Adrien gasped. ‘…tortured?’

‘In what ways?’ asked Felix.

‘Let’s see…. He was thrown in a pit of poisonous vipers – he was frozen – burned alive –’

‘And he survived?’ Adrien asked, his eyes wide.

‘Indeed he did, for each time a kind of invisible forcefield went up around him and he could not be touched.’

‘Shelter,’ Adrien breathed.

Bodhan’s smile widened. ‘And yet, there are no miraculous in this story. This power came purely from his concentrated will…although the legend attributes it to the power of prayer to the god Vishnu. You are free to interpret it however you like. Perhaps these powers do come from gods…or perhaps they come from within…or perhaps we are tapping into the energies of existence. There is no one confirmed explanation. All we can be sure of is the visible result. Prahlada was not harmed.’

‘What happened to the evil king?’ Felix asked.

‘Ah, well. He demanded to know Prahlada’s secret, and when his son said he was protected by Vishnu, Hiranyakashipu asked where this Vishnu was. His son said he was in everything, every atom of the universe. “I assume he’s in this pillar, then?” Hiranyakashipu sneered. And Prahlada said, “Yes, Father, he is in that pillar.”’

Bodhan was doing the voices, now. He was really getting into this.

‘So, Hiranyakashipu struck the pillar with his mighty sword and out jumped a fearsome creature, half-man and half-lion – the Narasingha – who pulled the king onto his lap so he was neither on land nor air, in the entranceway to the palace so he was neither indoors nor outdoors; and at dusk, when it was neither day nor night, the Narasingha tore open the king’s stomach with his bare claws and wore his intestines as a necklace. There are some delightful paintings of this story. Do an online image search, sometime.’

Adrien was motionless, his mouth open. Felix looked like he was itching for his phone, to look up those pictures.

‘In other words,’ said Bodhan, ‘the king was released from his existence in this world and sent on to reincarnate in a new world, where he would hopefully begin to find redemption and the way back to heaven.’

Adrien swallowed down the last of his tea, the meaning of this story suddenly clear. His hand trembling, he set his cup on the table. ‘Um…w-what happened to the boy? Prah…lada?’

‘He went on to be a great king – though I believe he had his own troubles of the mind, in adulthood. It is easier to be wise when we are children, before the…distractions of this life.’ Bodhan gave him a meaningful look, and Adrien focused on the cup.

‘So, you’re saying we all have the ability to summon these powers, if only we believe in it enough,’ Felix summed up.

‘In a sense…yes. As Adrien has said, we are making this sound easier than it is in practice. However, our meditative practices here are designed to…remove ourselves from the chaos of the world, draining our minds of all thought, until we sit with nothing but ourselves, in the darkness of ourselves. Then, perhaps, we can begin to understand our true nature.’

‘But you also make soap,’ Felix said.

‘Oh yes! And perfume! In fact, I can give you our catalogue. And we practise martial arts.’

‘Why don’t you take up the power for yourselves?’ Felix asked.

‘Oh, no, no, no, no, no.’ Bodhan shook his head vigorously. ‘To be Guardian and holder…there’s a conflict of interest, there.’

‘But Ladybug does it,’ Adrien said.

‘Yes – and she also happens to be the youngest Guardian ever, not to mention the first female Guardian in the history of Guardians. She is highly unusual.’

That was not an answer at all – an evasion of one, really – but Adrien was stopped by this new piece of information. Suddenly he understood what Bodhan meant about getting away from the ‘distractions of this life’. When was the last time any of these monks had any real interaction with a woman?

‘She didn’t ask for the responsibility,’ he said. ‘Master Fu just…passed it onto her, and now she’s stuck with it, unless she’s willing to give up all her memories about….’ Me. She’d need to give up every memory of me – of what I am – of what we’ve shared together.

Bodhan’s expression now held something else, something Adrien could not interpret. ‘Isn’t it curious that such a thing could be transferred to her with just a few words?’

Adrien stared back, trying to glean his meaning. The question felt like a challenge. Like a puzzle the monk intended for him to put together, but he was missing half the pieces.

Bodhan stood suddenly. ‘It’s almost dinnertime. Come help me in the kitchen. The others will be back soon.’

Dinner was more austere than Adrien or his brother were used to – consisting of a kind of soup, which was delicious but without cream, served with un-buttered bread. But that was okay. Adrien hardly had an appetite anyway. He was too nervous about the path he’d chosen.

Felix at his side, he passed the rest of the day observing the monks, each one a Guardian. Each one like Marinette, yet nothing like her. No wonder Master Su-Han struggled to understand her. She didn’t live off the grid like this. Didn’t spend the day in meditation, either silent or chanting in overtones with eyes closed as she rocked back and forth on the floor. As unusual as she was, she managed to be a normal girl – woman – with a normal life.

A woman, full stop.

His heart swelled with pride over her.

When dusk fell, he headed to the back garden and walked its length, ending at a dry-stone wall that overlooked the valley. The sun was setting between two forest-covered mountains and the moon would soon take its place. The sky was streaked with pink, the colour of creation. When night settled, it would be black, the colour of destruction.

My power.

He gazed down at his hands. Could they really wield that power even without his ring? Did he only need to believe?

And was that a good thing? Did he want to channel the power of destruction? What for? Maybe he could take up a new power…but no. His was destruction. He felt it in his core. He’d been chosen for a reason…even if he didn’t understand it yet.

There came the soft sound of footsteps on the stone path that wound through the garden. Then, Felix was at his side. ‘What’s on your mind?’

Adrien took a moment to savour the cool air drifting over his arms. That goodness the mosquitos had calmed down for the day. ‘You know what Bodhan was saying about the Grimoires just being journals, rather than instruction manuals…?’

‘…yes?’

‘Marinette learned that, too. As Ladybug. When she first became Guardian, she tried to devise a kind of protection charm, to keep people from being akumatised. She worked through every spell in the Grimoire and came up with nothing…until Alya told her it didn’t work that way.’

He fell silent, remembering the story Marinette had told him…and the jealousy he’d felt at the revelation that she’d told Alya her identity before him.

Felix leaned forward against the wall. ‘I see. How did it work?’

‘I guess she…had to summon her own inner power. She wielded the power of creation, so she could create anything she wanted through sheer will.’

‘Ah. Like when she created the reality where she sent Gabriel and Emilie.’

Adrien nodded.

‘Now, you’re wondering how you could apply your power. Except yours is the power of destruction. Is that as useful?’ Felix said this rhetorically.

‘You read my mind.’ Adrien laughed lightly. ‘You know, actually…there was this time when Tikki got the munchies and created a galette big enough to smash the Earth. I had to destroy it to save everyone. That was the first time it hit me that creation isn’t always good, and destruction isn’t always bad. It’s about….’

‘Balance,’ Felix finished.

‘Context.’

‘Mm. Sometimes destruction can be cleansing,’ Felix said, perhaps thinking of the diary bonfire – the day they had burned Gabriel’s Grimoire. ‘I suppose it’s good to destroy some things – like fear.’

‘Or anger.’

‘Greed.’

‘Hate.’

Felix nodded, his gaze on the shades of plum and violet smearing the sky.

Adrien leaned on the wall with him. ‘Ever read The Book of Skulls?’

‘Is that some Central American spiritual text?’

He shook his head. ‘A novel. About four young men, around our age, who learn of this legend of…well, a Central American sect, actually…who live off the grid and have learned the secret of immortality.’

‘I assume some sacrifice needs to be made.’

‘Yes. The legend demands four and promises that three will give their life. The survivor will be immortal.’

Felix arched an eyebrow. ‘Are you warning me?’

Adrien laughed.

Felix’s mouth quirked into a smile. ‘So, is the prophecy fulfilled?’

‘Well, without giving everything away…it doesn’t confirm if anyone becomes immortal or not. I think the point is…you can spend your whole life dedicated to a path without knowing if it was worth it until it’s too late to go back and take a different path.’

Felix held his eyes, processing this statement. ‘I suppose that’s why we call it faith. Conviction. Belief. That’s what sees us through the course of our lives.’

‘But what if we got it wrong?’

Felix shrugged. ‘That’s the gamble of life.’ His emerald stare grew dim in the fading light. ‘Why does being here make you think of that book?’

Adrien stared out at the valley – the landscape that had been there millions of years before him and would no doubt continue for millions of years after him – then back at his brother. ‘What do you think happens to us when we die?’

Felix’s brow lifted. ‘I have no idea.’

‘You don’t wonder about it?’

‘Of course, I do. But I don’t dwell on it. I presume you do.’

Adrien nodded slowly, his chest tightening. ‘I’ve…died before. Many times.’

Felix blinked at him. ‘…is this some power of destruction thing?’

Huh. He’d never thought of it that way before. ‘…not exactly. I mean I’ve…I’ve jumped. And fallen. And died. Ladybug resurrected me.’

‘O…kay.... And…?’

‘And there’s nothing, Felix. There’s…fading into oblivion. That’s what awaits me. Maybe you, too.’

His brother’s stare hardened. ‘You mean…you believe this is because of…what we are.’

Adrien nodded.

Felix sighed. ‘Adrien…has it ever occurred to you that perhaps that awaits everyone?’

It hadn’t.

‘Or that your consciousness was simply changing in a way that didn’t make sense to you in this mind, but you would have continued eternally in some other form? Or that you were just transitioning from one life to another?’

No, he hadn’t thought of any of that either. ‘Is that what you believe?’

‘I don’t believe in anything. Not enough to commit to it, anyway. What I’m saying is that you’re presuming to understand these mysteries when no one else ever has. There’ve been plenty of near-death experiences reported over the years. Even if you are a sort of…necronaut…that doesn’t mean you understand the meaning of it all.’ Felix sighed again. ‘You’ve always found this sentimonster business even harder than I have. Let’s see if I can find a way to put this….’ He pinched his forehead, considering. ‘Okay. The thought of someone being able to snap their fingers and blink you out of existence is terrifying, yes?’

‘…of course.’

‘But that’s what happens to everyone, Adrien. Think of the woman who gets struck by a bus – or the man who falls down the stairs – or –’

‘Alright, I get your point.’

‘All I’m saying is, everyone gets released from existence someday. Everyone. Does that make them less real? Less valid? Less worthy of being in this world?’

‘Of…of course not.’

‘Right. So, whether there’s a heavenly afterlife or a merging of energy with the eternal universe or simply blinking out…it doesn’t change things. If anything, you and I are the only beings on this planet no one can argue were created. And I think we get to create whatever mythology we want about that.’

‘Our own mythology….’ The words tingled in his mouth.

‘That’s right. And I’ll tell you what else: you have a power in you, and you always have. You were chosen to hold the black cat miraculous for a reason, Adrien.’

‘Because…Master Fu sensed a destructive streak?’

Felix shrugged. ‘Maybe. Perhaps you come from darkness and will return to darkness, and while you’re here you even flirt with that darkness, because it calls to you. And because of that darkness, you understand and appreciate the light a little better than most. Only someone like you could possibly be trusted to wield destruction. I’ve seen you with Plagg. Only someone on such…friendly terms with destruction could keep it under such control.’

The sun was nearly gone now, the darkness rising up as though it knew it was an illustration of Felix’s speech. And in that moment – Adrien felt it. Felt that he was the darkness covering the valley in the black velvet of shadow. And only with that darkness could the moon shine so brightly and beautifully. Only with the darkness could the light glow. Destruction and creation. Yin and yang. They needed each other. They defined each other.

‘Context,’ he murmured.

‘Context,’ Felix agreed.

And they lapsed into silence, watching the stars as they took their spots on the stage of night.

Chapter Text

The café incident with Lila preyed on Adrien’s mind all week. At the bakery, her words lingered with him while he kneaded the dough, which was probably why the loaves came out of the oven so misshapen, something that hadn’t happened to him in years. He was an expert, by now. Knew just what to do with the rice flour, for that extra flavour and texture. Even had debates about it, sometimes, with Marinette’s grandpa Roland. But today….

‘Are you okay?’ Tom asked.

Startled, Adrien let flour fly, showering down on his head and arms. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, dusting himself off and trying not to notice the look his father-in-law was giving him. ‘I guess I’m just…stressed about my master’s, you know?’ This was true, but…as usual, he was peppering his stories with enough honesty to hide what he was leaving out.

Tom gave him a look of love and sympathy – a look Gabriel had never given him. For the millionth time, maybe, Adrien recalled the Weredad incident, when the normally gentle giant had declared that he wasn’t good enough for his daughter.

Maybe he was right. Maybe Marinette’s figured it out, too.

No, that was just the guilt talking. Guilt over Lila, even though he hadn’t technically done anything wrong. Which made it even stranger that he was keeping it secret.

Why couldn’t he just tell Marinette, ‘Hey, you know that girl we both didn’t trust when we were in collège? That’s right, the one you still don’t trust. Well, guess what – you were right, and I was wrong! Isn’t that great? Don’t you just love when you get to hear me say that? So, like, yeah, I think she might be stalking us, and she’s been flirting with me like crazy, but it’s obviously not working because here I am, telling you about it. No, I’m not attracted to her. Why would you think that? Marinette, honey, put down the frying pan.’

Okay, that went places, fast.

He finished cleaning off the flour and found that Tom was still giving him that look. The one he recognised from the Weredad incident, actually. Before the akumatisation. Before Cat Noir had rejected the most wonderful girl on the planet right in front of both her parents and, uh…waxed lyrical about how he could understand why everyone might be in love with him.

Yeah...maybe don’t ever tell him that was me.

But before that epically cringe-worthy moment, Tom had been desperate to induct Cat Noir into the family, and he wore that same look of eagerness now. He was about to heap love on him in a way Adrien always found deeply uncomfortable.

There’s definitely something wrong with me.

‘Adrien.’ Tom slapped a hulking hand on his shoulder, making him bounce. ‘You’re a good man. But you do too much, sometimes. You do remember you originally only joined us in here because you were at a loose end…right?’

Actually, he often forgot this. ‘I’ve worked here so long that….’

‘It feels like home, I know.’ Tom nodded.

In fact, Adrien had been about to say it now felt like an obligation he couldn’t escape, lest he trigger his father-in-law’s animalistic temper. But sure – what Tom said.

‘The thing is, Sabine and I are aware of just how much you do, these days. You have three kids now, not just one.’

‘I’m aware.’

Tom roared with laughter, as if Adrien had intended to be funny. ‘And you have that course of yours. Things are changing. And as much as I’d love you to…well, take over the bakery someday, if you want…I’m also aware that isn’t your path.’

Adrien swallowed. This was…really too much. Was this man…this father figure…telling him to find his own way? Saying he didn’t need to be locked into something for the rest of his life, just to please someone? Because truth be told, there was a part of him prepared to take over the bakery and make bread until he died, even if it wasn’t what he wanted.

Programmed.

Groomed.

Yet, when he dug down deep, the only thing he felt was…rejection. ‘Are you…firing me?’ he choked out, feeling more like a teenager than a thirty-seven-year-old man.

‘That’s…not quite how I meant it.’ Tom scratched his head. ‘I wish Sabine weren’t out at the bank right now. She’s better at these things.’

‘Firing people?’

‘Heart-to-hearts.’

‘Is that what this is?’

‘It was supposed to be.’ Tom looked rueful.

‘Well.’ Adrien slowly took off his apron – personalised, as a gift from Tom and Sabine years ago. ‘I guess I…won’t be needing this anymore.’

‘I didn’t mean right away.’ Though from how Tom stared around the bakery, he probably hoped Adrien would take it that way…before he destroyed any more bread.

‘It’s okay, Tom. I’m pretty worn out, as it is. I think I’ll…head back to the apartment and get some rest.’

Tom opened his mouth, perhaps to impart some words of wisdom, then clamped it shut and nodded. He hugged Adrien suddenly and fiercely. ‘You know you can talk to Sabine or me, if anything’s bothering you. And you can still help out here from time to time – if you really want to. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck here. It shouldn’t be another stress on your shoulders. Go live your life finally…you know?’

Adrien clung to him in return. Somehow, Tom was seeing him as a teenager, too. No matter how old Adrien got, he would always be that child, in his in-laws’ eyes. It was strangely warming.

He pulled back and rubbed at his eyes before tears could spill out. ‘I’ve enjoyed every minute. And I’ll be back, for sure.’

Tom nodded. ‘It’s not like we’ll never see each other again outside the bakery.’

This was true, so Adrien smiled. ‘I’m sorry about the bread today.’

Tom waved that away. ‘Take some of it home for yourself. I’m sure it tastes fine, even if it looks like modern art.’

Adrien laughed and scooped up two lumpy loaves before saying his goodbyes and heading home.

At the apartment, he dumped the bread on the kitchen table before flopping on the living room sofa and staring at the ceiling, overwhelmed at the prospect of having all those hours to himself. He felt guilty. Like he should be busier.

Then remembered he was meant to be busy…with his paper.

But how could he focus on that, when every time he closed his eyes, he was staring down Lila’s top once again?

He blinked away the image. It wasn’t even that he was attracted. The opposite, really. It was sort of like when you saw a traffic accident on the road, and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking to see how bad the damage was. When Lila had first reappeared in their lives, there had been that interest – the flashing emergency lights at the end of the road. Then, a quick check to see if anything horrible was going on. And now he was full on staring at the injury detail.

The most terrible part was that when he stared long enough, he saw himself at the heart of the accident, mutilated, spilling out gore…so to speak.

‘Here I am, just dropped back into your life out of nowhere and I start asking all these questions about your failing marriage –’

He had rallied against that diagnosis…but had she been right?

No. No, no. The marriage was not failing. In a bad spot, sure, but not failing. They would work things out, just as they’d done a thousand times before.

The bigger issue was Hugo. Aside from Adrien’s misgivings about Lila ‘running into’ his son in the café, he had to credit Hugo’s observations about his parents. If he was saying such things to a virtual stranger, they must be causing him serious distress. Was that why he was acting the way he was?

When exactly had Hugo’s distance and attitude begun? It did seem to coincide with the start of Marinette’s absence…but it also coincided with Hugo becoming a teenager…and the beginning of Adrien’s master’s course. The source of the trouble could be any of those things.

Or all of them.

And more he wasn’t thinking of.

There came the click of the front door, and he froze. Was that Hugo? At this hour? He should be at school – unless he’d taken up truancy on top of everything else. The twins obviously couldn’t just turn up on their own. So that left….

He sat up quickly, just as Marinette walked into the living room.

‘Oh!’ She took a step back. ‘I…didn’t expect to find you here.’ She really did look like a deer in headlights – like she’d been caught doing something she never wanted him to find out about. Was she having an affair?

‘I was fired,’ he told her.

She blinked. ‘Wait, from the…. My parents fired you?’

‘Your father, really. But I think he meant it in a nice way.’

She continued to stare at him – then sat beside him on the sofa, a careful foot away. ‘To…give you more time, or something?’

‘Hm…. Something like that. Why are you back right now?’ He did his best to make it sound like he wasn’t about to vomit his heart onto the floor.

‘Oh, I…sometimes come home when everyone’s out. You know, to…have some time to myself. The office is chaos.’

Her words sank heavily in his chest. Okay. Not an affair, but…. ‘You mean…you’re home more than I think you are…but not when we’re here?’

She chewed at her lip. ‘I know how that sounds – but it’s not like that. It’s just….’

‘No, no.’ He had somehow leapt to his feet, his breath catching. ‘No, you…you can’t explain this away, Marinette. You know how much I miss you – how much we all miss you. In fact, I was just sitting here trying to work out if Hugo’s behaviour issues are related to how much you’re gone, and then you come out with that – that – admission.’

‘Okay, wait.’ She was on her feet too, and she put up her hands like a barrier. ‘Where did that come from?’

‘Where didn’t it come from?’ His chest was heaving, and he noted the way she wrapped her arms around herself, a shield against his anger. A vision flashed through his mind – of another self. Of Cat Blanc.

He took a long, deep breath and forced himself to speak as calmly as he could. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just…in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been struggling here. Like, really struggling. I spend virtually all my time working at the bakery or managing the kids. When we go out with friends? It’s like I can’t remember how to talk to adults. And the snatches of time I get with you…they’re almost more pain than they’re worth, because every single time, it’s like saying goodbye to you.’

Her grip on herself tightened, like her voice. ‘I didn’t make the decision for you to stay home.’

‘No,’ he agreed, letting out a long sigh. ‘But when I said I would stay home so you could pursue your dreams, I sort of thought they might include me.’

Her mouth fell, and he allowed himself to imagine she might suddenly break – run to him and give him all the reassurance he so desperately needed. She would embrace him tight enough to become part of him, burying her face into his shoulder, and tell him he wasn’t just part of her dream, he was her dream, and…and….

‘I can’t cope with this,’ she said in a small voice. So small that, at first, he thought he’d misheard her.

‘…can’t cope with…what, exactly?’

‘This. You.’

‘…me?’

‘You needing me so much.’ She released her arms and tugged at her hair. ‘I came here to be alone because I was really struggling with the stress at work. I know I should be grateful. As you just said, this is my dream, right? But there’s so much…drama – endless requests – constantly being spoken to in this patronising tone of voice and told that what I’ve done isn’t quite good enough, even though I sacrificed all my time with my family to spend all day and all night working on it – and that I have to make some stupid alteration that will throw my whole design, so I have to start the whole thing from scratch – and the networking and the parties and all the talking to people I don’t care about, but pretending I do….’ She let her arms hang down, worn out just listing it all.

And I bet that list isn’t even half of it.

His anger vanished. ‘You’re doing it again,’ he said softly. ‘Carrying it all on your shoulders and not letting me or anyone else in. After all these years, you still don’t know how to play.’

‘What are you even talking about, Adrien?’ She rubbed her temples. ‘Of course I know how to play. Why do you think I gave up the miraculous? So I could live a normal life – with you.’

‘You never gave up being the Guardian.’

She gaped at him, and he knew he’d just crossed a line. ‘For you, Adrien. I would have gladly given that up, but then I would lose all my memories – of you!’ Her face had gone Ladybug red.

‘Marinette –’

‘Don’t.,’ She took a step back. ‘Look, I…I’m sorry. I just…this really isn’t the right time for me to be having this conversation. I know things haven’t been good – and I know a lot of that is on me – but I need…I need….’

‘What do you need? Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.’

‘…I need air,’ she finished. Then she flew out of the apartment so fast, it was hard to believe the last five minutes had even happened.

He fell to his knees, hardly noticing the pain on impact with the floor, then curled into a ball on the carpet, gripping his calves and hugging his knees to his chest. As he closed his eyes, he let darkness take over, remembering a time when he’d fooled himself into believing that darkness could be good. That there was light in that darkness, like the light at the end of a tunnel when the brain died. That there could be healing.

He was such an idiot. Maybe his marriage really was failing. For how long? Did Marinette know? Was he the only one in denial, delaying the inevitable? Was she waiting for the kids to grow up and move out before she left him for good?

Dark thoughts filled his mind. A longing for his old miraculous, to cataclysm everything he’d built and make way for something new. The peacock, to snap himself away and release himself from this existence. The rabbit, the horse and the ladybug, to make himself a world where he could somehow fit and be what everyone wanted him to be.

No, Adrien, a voice spoke in his mind. Funny how his subconscious sounded like Felix. Destruction, Adrien. You are the annihilator of fear – the annihilator of sorrow – the annihilator of rage.

Breath short, he sat up quickly and scrambled backwards until he hit the sofa, eyes closed and taking long, deep breaths. He hadn’t done this in years, but everything he’d learned at the ‘temple’ came rushing back to him when he needed it.

He visualised a black ball of cataclysmic power – imagined holding it in his hands, tingling with the energy of destruction. He held it aloft, allowing it to float just above his hands, teasing it with his fingers like a soap bubble. Then, with another part of his mind, he sought inside his heart for the blackness – the doubt, the worry, the insecurity. It throbbed with rot, decaying his spirit.

With one psychic hand, he pushed the cataclysm into his chest, targeting the rot of fear.

That was the point of that old tale of Hiranyakashipu Bodhan had once told him – that the tyrant and the child were in each of us…as was the lion god, the balancing act in between, who cleansed the heart when darkness threatened to devour us.

I am the annihilator of fear.

The weight in his heart eased and his chest opened. If anyone were in the room with him, watching him in that moment, perhaps they would see his body glow with the energy now igniting within him.

He sat with that energy so long that time lost all meaning – until he felt ready to return to the room, opening opened his eyes and blinking at the light.

Light.

And Hugo, standing above him, one dark eyebrow raised. ‘What were you doing?’

‘Meditating.’ Adrien got to his feet, feeling stronger than he had in months.

‘You were shaking. I thought you were having a fit.’

‘Why are you home at this hour?’

‘What do you mean? It’s the same time I always come home.’ He didn’t add when I come home.

Adrien pulled out his phone and saw the time. ‘How long was I under?’ he murmured to himself. He had a voicemail, which he listened to now. It was the school.

‘…are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m…. Oh my god. The twins!’

‘You forgot to pick them up?’ Hugo sounded incredulous – but Adrien didn’t answer because he was already out the door, racing to collect his children from some very irritable teachers.

They would judge him. He suspected they already did – not just him but Marinette. He was one of the only fathers to collect his kids from school, just as he was usually the only father on the playground. The mothers tended to huddle together in packs, like animals, occasionally shooting him strange looks but mostly keeping to themselves. Possibly talking about him. Possibly recognising him.

He sometimes imagined what they said:

‘Adrien Agreste, I’m sure that’s him!’

‘You mean the model? I think I used to have a magazine ad with him pinned on my wall.’

‘Same! But look at him now. Just faded into oblivion, never heard from again, and now he’s just a lonely man on a playground.’

‘Maybe we should talk to him, see if he’s okay.’

‘Are you kidding? You know we don’t talk to the dads! It’s code!’

Thanks to some epic sprinting, and even traffic-dodging, he made it to the school in record time. Too bad he was already more than half an hour late.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said to the woman who ran the after-school club they had sent the twins to. His breath was ragged from running. ‘I was feeling unwell and fell asleep and completely missed the alarm.’

The woman eyed him carefully. ‘You look fine to me.’

‘Yes, the…the rest did me good. I promise this won’t happen again.’

‘You’ll have to pay for the full session, even if it was only a half hour.’

‘Yes, of course. Just give me the details and I’ll sort it out.’ He beamed a smile at her that he hoped might take the edge off her ferocity.

She rolled her eyes and released the twins.

‘We want to go to after-school club every day!’ Emma chimed as they left the school grounds.

‘Don’t pick us up tomorrow!’ Louis said.

‘Oh, uh…really? You wouldn’t rather be at home with me?’

‘No!’ they said in unison.

How was he supposed to take that? With sorrow? With relief? ‘I…suppose if that’s what you really want….’ It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it. And it would give him even more time.

Not that he didn’t now have spades of it, after being fired at the bakery.

And with Marinette furious with him….

Had he just emptied his whole life in one afternoon?

‘What did you two do at school today?’ he asked the twins, holding each by the hand as they walked back to the apartment.

‘Learned stuff,’ Louis said.

‘What did you learn?’

‘I don’t want to tell you.’

‘Me either,’ said Emma.

‘Oh. Well…did you play anything?’

That got them going. They both started talking over each other about the games they’d played at breaktime and the friends they’d made at after-school club. Emma had befriended a seven-year-old – practically an adult – and she seemed very proud of it.

Adrien chose to take their request not to come home as a relief. It wasn’t a rejection of him as much as them embracing their social life. Kind of like he should be doing.

‘I can’t cope with you needing me so much.’ That’s what Marinette had said – and she was right. As much as she needed to be at home more, he needed to lean on her less. It wasn’t fair to expect her to be his everything. He was an adult, for god’s sake. Her partner, not her child. He should be able to function on his own.

He made a decision. He would use this time to find himself again. Like that retreat back when he was twenty-one. He would take this time out, without all the distractions of life, and find what lay at the centre once more. Remind himself who he really was underneath all the ebbs and flows of existence in this world – under the ageing body and fluctuating circumstance.

He would finish his master’s – make more frequent calls to Marinette’s great-uncle, so he could practise his Mandarin – maybe buy a piano and take up the instrument again. Maybe he could persuade Hugo to join him in fencing lessons. As a bonding thing. Or maybe he could take up something new that Gabriel had never groomed him to do.

He could get even more into the tea thing. Mix his own brews, like he did in Provence, for medicinal purposes. Meditate more. Maybe actually, like, leave the apartment for reasons other than school runs and, like, talk to humans his own age. Or something.

When they entered the apartment, Hugo was still in the living room, as though he’d been waiting for them. Which was strange. Had he been…worried?

‘You’re smiling,’ he observed when Adrien walked in after the twins, who raced for the sofa, already throwing cartoons on the TV.

Adrien nodded. ‘You know? I think I might be…I don’t know…happier than I was when I left. Isn’t that what they say smiles are supposed to mean?’

Hugo rolled his eyes.

Adrien headed into the kitchen to water Rosemary.

Hugo hovered in the doorway, watching. ‘So, I don’t need to be concerned? Call a doctor or anything?’

‘Nope! No matter how awful things feel…I am the annihilator of fear.’

Hugo raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this like that long as hell book, Dune? Fear is the mind-killer and all that?’

‘It can be whatever you want it to be,’ Adrien said, passing by him to return to the living room to feed the hamster. His own words gave him pause.

This life can be whatever I want it to be.

As ever, easier said than done, but….

The fact was, he couldn’t make Marinette behave how he wanted her to – and he couldn’t make Hugo, either – but he could control himself. For a long time, he’d forgotten he held power within – but not anymore.

‘Okay, now you’re laughing at nothing,’ Hugo said behind him.

‘You just don’t know the joke.’ Adrien turned back to him. ‘Hey, Hugo. Ever thought about taking up fencing?’

Chapter Text

A full month passed before Adrien made his first video call to Marinette from Provence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear her voice or see her face. And it wasn’t that calls were forbidden. The monks shared a few phones for emergencies…which was strange, what with them all being ancient men previously frozen in time, none as old or dead as they had a right to be.

But this was supposed to be a time and place free of distractions. And the biggest ‘distraction’ in Adrien’s life was Marinette. She was where his mind went every time he attempted to clear it during meditation.

She answered on the second ring. ‘Adrien. I can’t believe it’s you!’ She appeared to be on a sofa, and she was even more beautiful than the images he carried in his memory, which often soothed him into sleep at night in the sparse room he shared with Felix. Bunkbeds, as if they were children – an experience they’d never shared when they were younger.

‘It’s so good to see you again,’ he said, his heart throbbing and one thought circling his mind: You could just go home. Except, he couldn’t. Someday – but not yet.

‘Are you okay? You look…well, sunburnt. Have you been spending all your time at the beach or something?’

‘Gardening. You see all the land they have here?’ He turned the phone around to give a 360 view of the ‘back garden’ where he was sitting at the wrought-iron table.

‘It’s a little dark.’

‘Okay, well. We spend a lot of time out here. It’s kind of a meditative thing. I’ve got really into it. It feels like I’m giving back, after, you know, burning half the garden at the mansion. The monks are teaching me how to brew my own tea, too. Like a mindfulness exercise.’

‘O…kay.’ She shifted on the sofa, a level of luxury he’d started to forget existed.

‘Master Fu never did anything like that with you?’

‘Well, I mean…he made me tea, sure, but um…no, he…he never did anything like that with me.’

‘Is it just me or do I detect some actual jealousy in your voice?’ he teased.

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not jealousy. Just…it’s a little surreal, me being the Guardian but you being the one actually living with the Order of the Guardians.’

‘Maybe you should try a retreat like this sometime.’ He suppressed a laugh at the thought of how freaked out the monks would be at a beautiful woman – the most beautiful woman – suddenly coming to stay with them.

‘Right. I’ll schedule that in, shall I? I’m sure Regine won’t mind me disappearing for a month.’

Adrien grinned. ‘Is she tough?’

‘Like you wouldn’t believe. I knew an internship like this would be hard work, but that woman is demanding. There is a difference between a Personal Assistant and a slave, isn’t there? I mean…no one’s told her that, but…surely….’

Now he was laughing. ‘You could just use my connections to –’

‘No. We’ve been over this. When I succeed, I want it to be because I was good enough, not because I know Adrien Agreste. You need to do your thing right now and I need to do mine.’

He definitely understood that. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re doing amazingly. Have you managed to show anyone your work yet?’

‘Oh yes. There’s this man who delivers the post. I’m sure that’ll launch my career.’

‘You never know. He might be best friends with the head of costuming on some TV show.’

She sighed. ‘I know. I try not to get carried away by fantasies, but I confess those kinds of dreams fill my head all day.’

Playfulness crept into his voice. ‘Just those kinds of dreams?’

‘Maybe I’d have more of the other kind of dream if my fiancé weren’t training to be a monk.’

Adrien laughed again, though his heart skipped at the word ‘fiancé’. Despite being the one to propose, hearing the word out loud made it feel more real. ‘I’m not going to become a monk, I promise.’

She pursed her lips, her eyes reaching through the screen and grabbing him even from that distance. ‘When are you coming home?’ she asked, her voice softer.

He swallowed, the air suddenly colder. ‘I…don’t know, yet. I haven’t…found what I was looking for.’

‘And you really think you will? Find it there, that is?’

He nodded. ‘Or…somewhere on this trip.’

She stared back at him, making him hold his breath, waiting for her response. ‘…you’re doing more travelling after this?’

‘It’s…a possibility. Felix and I…. Well, we have the money for it. The estate agent is already busy promoting the apartment block.’

‘The dome only just got demolished.’

‘And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see it. Still – it’s prime land, or so I’m told, and the agent expects rent to be easy. She’s setting up this waiting list, to get prospective tenants lined up for opening day, which she thinks will take about a year. At that point…you should see the projected income figures.’

Marinette gave him a small smile. ‘Are you trying to tell me you’re going to be loaded?’

‘Let’s just say, if you ever have an affair, I’ll know it really is for love.’

‘I’m never having an affair, Adrien.’

‘It was a joke. A bad one.’

‘The only kind you make. Maybe I should be the one worrying about you.’

‘At a retreat with a bunch of celibate monks?’ He grinned and shook his head.

‘…why are you doing this, Adrien? Really.’

He heaved out a breath, gazing askance at the fading light in the garden, then meeting her eyes again. ‘Gabriel dictated all my travel, growing up. Anywhere I went, it was for work, not a holiday. That world tour I was meant to go on with Lila? I mean…that would have been hell, but…I guess there’s a part of me that wants to do that the right way round. And Felix and I missed out on so many years together. Spending all this time together now, truly getting to know him better…it’s been really nice. Healing, maybe.’

She nibbled at her lip – then gave him a warm smile and a solemn nod. ‘I understand. Just….’ Her eyes looked wet. How he wished he could reach through the screen and wipe away the sadness. How he wished he could stop causing it in the first place.

‘Just what?’ he prodded gently.

She pressed her lips together, like there was something she wanted to say but wasn’t sure she should. ‘Try not to go overboard with the male bonding. I don’t want to hear about you two getting arrested in Bangkok or getting matching tribal tattoos from some Amazonian shaman.’

He raised an eyebrow. This surely wasn’t what was really bothering her. ‘You don’t like tattoos?’

‘Hiding your beautiful skin? No.’

He grinned again. ‘Alright. I promise: no tattoos.’

‘And no getting arrested in Bangkok.’ She waggled a finger at him.

‘You know, I think the line is cutting out.’

‘Adrien.’

He burst out laughing. ‘I promise I won’t get arrested in Bangkok.’

‘Or anywhere else.’

‘Or anywhere else. But I can’t promise Felix won’t join a circus and disappear forever. He’s been charming the monks with card tricks all month.’

‘This is what happens when you don’t have a TV.’

‘Isn’t it great? Hey, you’re not wearing your earrings.’

She touched her bare ears. ‘It wasn’t safe. You know…wearing both the ring and the earrings at the same time.’

‘Oh. I didn’t even think of that. I just thought it was, like, a really romantic gesture.’

She smiled. ‘It was. That’s why I kept the ring on.’

Adrien took in the implications. ‘Maybe saddling you with Plagg wasn’t so romantic, after all.’

She laughed, at last – a beautiful sound – a relief after the sorrow.

They carried on bantering, until the call grew serious again. Serious in a kind of ‘if you were here, this is what I would do’ way. The separation was physically painful, his skin burning with longing with no way to act on it.

With great reluctance, Adrien finally found some way to end the call and go back in the house, where he found Felix seated on a cushion in the living room, leaning over the central table and playing a game of Go with one of the monks. The others had gathered around watching.

Adrien couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on in the game. When Felix attempted to teach it to him, it had seemed like he was winning, but at the very end, everyone unanimously declared Felix the winner. Adrien hadn’t even understood why or what he was looking at on the board.

Now, from the reactions of the monks, it seemed Felix was winning again. Like he did every night.

Adrien headed for the guest room, where he climbed onto the top bunk to sit on his bed, a hard thing lacking all the creature comforts he’d grown up with – something he was surprised to be so pleased with. To change within, a change without was required first.

He closed his eyes and practised the breathing techniques the monks had been training them in all month, attempting to clear his mind. This was the key: when all distractions were removed – all his thoughts and feelings and even the sensation of his own body encasing him – what would be left? Who was the true self underneath it all? That was what he was trying to find.

It wasn’t easy, but he was improving. Yet this evening, his mind was fuller than it had been in weeks – full of her. And not simply his mind was consumed with thoughts of her. His body was too, and it was responding in a way he’d fought to shut down on arrival in Provence.

One video call with Marinette had just undone a month’s worth of work.

The second time he rang her was two months later, after battling the impulse to speak to her all the time or even simply hop on a train home – wherever that was, now. There were messages, of course – in text only. He couldn’t handle her voice or face in his mind while he focused on what he had come there to do.

Now, though, it was time to let her know he was leaving.

‘And coming back to Paris?’ she said, but from her tone it was clear she knew this was not what he had in mind.

He shook his head slowly. ‘The Guardians are just people, you know? People who have spent a long time studying their subject, but nothing more than that. All they can do is pass on what they’ve learned. I need…I need more, Marinette. I don’t feel like I can marry you when I’m this lost inside. How can I support you when I haven’t worked out how to support myself?’

She didn’t try to hide her tears, so he didn’t try to hide his.

‘I am coming back to you,’ he promised again and again and again.

They made a plan to travel to all seven continents, including Antarctica. They took great care not to get arrested anywhere, although it was touch and go for about an hour when someone accused Felix of trying to swindle money with a simple magic trick in a very public eatery in, yes, Bangkok.

‘I didn’t take your money,’ Felix said with his usual stoicism. ‘I just moved the bill into that bottle.’

‘But you must have changed my money to do it!’ his accuser raged, red-faced.

‘But…it’s the same amount of money. Look. Here. I’ll give you your money back.’ Felix smashed the bottle on the table, and they were thrown out.

Outside, Felix dusted off his arms, still immaculately dressed in a button-down shirt despite the heat. ‘Someone needs to teach that man that the illusion of space is just a social construct.’

Adrien laughed and headed over the road to order a Thai coffee, his latest fixation. The way they whirled in circles, making the coffee stretch down from one cup into the other, defying gravity, took his breath away every time.

Then came an island in Japan, where they huddled under hard tables for safety during an earthquake, then crawled out, shaking almost as much as the ground had, and saw a whole village decimated. Without words, they agreed to stay a while – as long as needed to provide funds to help the village get back on their feet.

‘We have a new mission,’ Adrien messaged Marinette. ‘Remember what I said about giving back?’

Tourist destinations were struck off the list, replaced with places like Lebanon, Turkey, Burkina Faso, Niger, Nepal, helping address clean water shortages. In an Indian jungle, they came across a school that had been destroyed by a flood of the Ganges during monsoon season, and they helped rebuild it with better support stilts to keep it above the expected flood level.

As soon as they felt able to leave one place, a new cause threw them on another plane to another country. There were worse ways to spend your newfound wealth.

They still managed to achieve their ‘all seven continents’ plan and fit in some fun. They swam with whale sharks off the coast of Australia, took a helicopter down into the Grand Canyon and did white water rafting up the Colorado River. Hopped a cruise to Antarctica, coasting over pristine water so clear you could see right through it to its dark, foreboding depths – staring up at impossible cliffs of ice – and penguins. Oh, the penguins.

Maybe Marinette would take a penguin instead of a hamster. You know…if that weren’t really cruel to the penguin.

From there, they ended up on Easter Island – Rapanui, Felix said was its true name – and gazed up at those tremendous stone heads.

‘Ever read much on ancient alien theory?’ Adrien asked his twin.

Felix snorted – because of course he had.

‘What would the ancient alien theorists make of the miraculous? Or of us?’

‘They would probably take it as supporting evidence,’ Felix said. ‘You must know the panspermia idea that all habitable worlds were seeded by the same primordial organisms and left to evolve in their own ways. Probably the kwamis are part of that.’

‘Huh.’ The longer Adrien squinted at the heads, the more they seemed to take on the face of Plagg.

By the time they climbed Machu Picchu, both of them were long past overdue haircuts, so their blond locks hung down to their shoulders; and they had foregone shaving for a good fortnight, so they had the beginnings of blond beards. There was no real reason for this other than discovering that trims didn’t matter on such a journey.

It took four days to climb the mountain, which meant three nights of camping in stark cold conditions. They shared a tent, insulated by their collective body heat. Opting not to have a guide, Felix guided them by map. In the beginning, there was conversation, but by the final day they had both sunk inside themselves. As they’d learned at the ‘temple’, when you stripped away all distractions, all that was left was you.

When they reached the summit, Adrien stood beside his brother and stared in disbelief that there was no more hiking to do. In the thinning air, he felt light-headed, not to mention a little breathless from the intense exercise. A handful of other hikers stood a distance away, taking photos.

The mountain looked like a face turned sideways and seen in profile, with the ancient city below as its headdress. Or perhaps that was just a trick of the eye. Another human instinct, attributing one’s own qualities onto the non-human.

Did that make him truly human?

‘It’s spectacular,’ Felix pronounced, finally dressed in more appropriate clothing – a t-shirt and jeans. He looked more like Adrien, that way.

‘Kind of insane, the things humans do,’ Adrien said. ‘Living at such an altitude.’

‘On the other hand, who would invade such a place?’

He had a point.

‘I believe it speaks of the adaptability of humans,’ Felix said. ‘Like those who live in the Arctic or the Sahara. People find ways to live through just about anything.’

‘…yeah.’ Adrien’s mouth felt dry, and he quickly reached for one of their water bottles.

‘There’s something a little anticlimactic about this,’ Felix said.

‘You expected more?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s just…now that we’re here, what do we do?’

‘…stare at it? Take selfies?’

Felix smiled and pulled out his phone. ‘Alright, come here, then.’ In a rare display of affection, he pulled Adrien to his side, throwing one arm around his shoulders, and held up the phone. ‘Say cheese,’ he instructed, and he snapped the photo.

It was a good photo. Definitely one to send Marinette.

‘I’m in no hurry to climb back down,’ Adrien said. ‘I suppose we…stay another night?’

‘Agreed.’

And they dropped their backpacks on the ground and sat together at the top of the mountain, gazing out at that wonder of adaptability stretched out before them, as far as the eye could see.

When night covered them, they lay on their backs and gazed up at the sky, speechless. Free of the light pollution of any city, the stars were crystal clear. So many were visible that it was like looking at spilled salt. And there was the Milky Way, something Adrien had only ever seen in photographs, as though it were some mythical thing you read about in stories. It couldn’t possibly be real and yet there it was.

Looking into the canopy of darkness, he had the sensation that he was floating alongside those stars, caught in the vacuum, the nothingness, just as he’d floated when he’d made all those sacrificial leaps of faith as Cat Noir, departing from this world before being hauled back into it, to reform as someone people called Adrien Agreste.

It was as if he was outside himself, looking down and questioning if that body on the mountain was really him – if that was really his life and Adrien was really his name.  He was on the brink of understanding something important, perhaps the whole meaning of existence, but he couldn’t begin to put it into words. Some things could only be felt.

Then her image came to him.

Marinette.

Her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her kiss, her touch…. It filled his whole mind, his vision, blocking out the stars. It filled his heart, leaving no room for any other feeling. And he knew. He understood.

When all the distractions of life were removed…she was there. She alone remained. Whatever he truly was, he loved her. She was not the distraction: she was his truth.

‘I think I’m ready to go home,’ he murmured into the utter silence.

After a moment, Felix said, ‘Right now?’

Adrien laughed so hard his cheeks hurt. ‘We can sleep first.’ And he got up to return to their tent, warmed by his own thoughts.

The following week, a freshly shaven, cleaned-up Adrien rang the doorbell of the apartment Marinette had moved into, without warning her that he was back. She took one long look at him, then threw herself on him, pressing her mouth hard against his. He responded with equal heat, and they stumbled into the apartment together, with her kicking the door shut behind him and removing her miraculous faster than Plagg could yelp.

Later, they lay together on the living room floor, one of her legs thrown over his, a solace in his heart like he’d never felt before. The whole year had been worth it for the sweetness of this reunion…though he didn’t plan on repeating the exercise.

‘Adrien, we…we didn’t use anything.’

His eyes were closed, but they fluttered open at this information. Information he should have thought of himself, but his concentration had been on other things. His eyes shut again. ‘What are the chances that anything will happen?’

‘I guess…low? But….’

He squeezed her tight against his side and kissed the top of her head, not caring what the future brought, only caring about this one moment with her in his arms. He had searched all over the world for himself and knew in that second that he had found himself there, with her.

‘Are you…back for good?’ she asked, sounding worried about the answer.

‘I am. If you…still want me.’

‘Are you crazy?’ She propped herself up on one elbow, so she was looking down at him. ‘I didn’t send you all those emails and phone messages because I was hooking up with some other guy. I missed you every moment you’ve been gone, Adrien – missed you like my heart was gone and you took it on that plane with you.’

He grinned.

‘Don’t be pleased about my pain. This last year was probably the hardest of my life.’ She gave him a playful punch in the shoulder, as if to lighten the weight of her admission.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, guilt in his heart. ‘It’s just…it’s so good to be back here with you.’

‘Did it really take a year away from me to realise that I’m what you want?’

‘No.’ He shook his head fiercely. ‘I always knew that, from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I promised I’d return. I just…needed that time to….’ In a way, it was hard to remember. But only because he’d sort of accomplished what he’d set out to do.

‘Are you going to tell me what happened to you, or just keep me in suspense?’ she asked.

He grinned again and sat up, taking her hands and relishing this moment, the way they could sit together like this, undressed, and just talk. There was something magical about that level of intimacy and trust – a kind of magic even the miraculous couldn’t touch.

‘I’m not sure I can explain it to you,’ he said. ‘You know how sometimes you have these experiences that only mean anything to you? Like a dream that feels so real and so life-changing, but when you wake up you can’t put it into words?’

Her mouth was open. ‘Wow. That intense?’

He nodded.

‘You sure you didn’t, like, go on some shamanic ayahuasca trip in the Amazon?’

He laughed and pulled her closer.

‘That isn’t a no,’ she said.

‘Let’s get married.’

‘I thought that was the point of getting engaged.’

‘No, I mean, like, today.’

‘Adrien.’ She drew back enough to study his face, cupping his cheek with her hand. ‘Don’t you want to…I don’t know, invite some people? Do this properly?’

He shook his head. ‘We have friends, but…I have almost no family, Marinette. A big wedding would just make that even clearer. And I don’t want to wait any longer. I just want you.’

She held his eyes a long time, then nodded slowly. ‘Okay. I mean…can we do that? Just get married right now?’

‘Well, no. Not right now…but at 4pm, yes. I booked us a slot somewhere, just in case. The first place that had an opening.’

Her mouth was open again. ‘What if I’d said no?’

He shrugged. ‘I’d have fallen into a pit of despair at the thought that you don’t love me anymore, with no choice but to take up drinking and write bad poetry.’

‘Adrien!’ She hit him again.

He laughed and recaptured her hands, pulling them both up to their feet. ‘Come on, soon-to-be Mrs Agreste. Felix is already on standby. Let’s call your parents, and Alya and Nino, and then get going.’

‘Okay, but first –’ Marinette glanced briefly down at herself and at him. ‘No matter how rushed this is, I think they’ll expect us to wear clothes.’

He blinked – then laughed and hugged her again, glittering with happiness. This was it – this was the future, finally happening. The next stage of their lives was about to begin.

Chapter Text

Adrien had always known he was leaning too much on Marinette – not just now but when they were younger, too. He’d looked forward to akuma attacks, just to see her. Relied on her to bring him back every time he jumped to his death. And when he’d gone on that trip around the world with Felix, he’d concluded that Marinette was his everything.

He said some of this at his most recent therapy session, being mindful to phrase it in a way that didn’t give away his secret identity.

‘What about when the children came along?’ the therapist asked.

‘…what about it?’

‘Well. From what you’ve told me, you gave up your whole life for them. Not just work, but everything. I can’t help but observe that you’ve gone a little more than above and beyond, as a father.’

He blinked in surprise. Why hadn’t he seen this before? He’d leapt at parenthood as another thing to bind him.

‘Adrien, in my experience, when you latch onto others like that, they can only disappoint you. As they pursue their own paths, it can feel like rejection.’

His breath caught – because she was right. There was a small part of him that resented Marinette for having all these plans and achieving her dreams. ‘But it’s not fair of me to feel that way. It’s not my wife’s fault that I’m so lost.’

The therapist gave him a warm smile. ‘Jealousy is not a sensible emotion. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for feeling it.’

He left the session in a haze of contemplation. When he found himself back at the apartment, he couldn’t account for how he’d got there. He must have hailed the taxi, ridden in the car and paid the driver, all on autopilot.

As he took off his shoes and headed into the living room, the therapist’s final message for the day lingered in his mind.

‘Being set free comes with the responsibility of leading your own life, finding your own way, and having no one to blame but yourself if things go wrong.’

He needed to find something for himself. Focus on that, and then maybe he and Marinette would find their way back to each other.

He flopped onto the sofa and stared blankly across the room. The kids were at school, Marinette was at work, and Tom and Sabine were busy in the bakery. The world was turning, and everyone was doing just fine without him.

The weight of the remaining hours of the day sank down on his shoulders.

He sighed and took out his phone, looking up electric pianos. He had an idea to take up the instrument again.

His previous piano had been a real grand piano. The electric range was very different. In the end, he settled on one with a full-length keyboard designed to mimic the sound of a real piano exactly. After watching demonstration videos, he plumped for the more expensive model, which had a zillion sample and recording features he would likely never use or even understand, but why not?

The estimated delivery date was a full two weeks away, though. Which meant he needed to find something else to do with his time until then.

There was, of course, his next master’s paper. It was a bit of a strange one this time, about the notion that lying was an important part of a child’s psychological development, and the limits this could be taken to.

Lying had never been something he valued in others. On the other hand, he’d spent most of his life lying in one way or another. Lying about his secret identity. Lying about his feelings. Lying to the world about what had happened to Gabriel. Maybe even lying to himself about some things. Was all of that a healthy, normal part of his development?

Did it make him human?

He watered Rosemary, while humming to himself, and an idea came to him. Maybe he’d take up gardening again. He’d enjoyed it enough when he’d stayed with the Guardians all those years ago. Enjoyed learning about all the medicinal properties, as briefly as he had, and blending plants together to see what combinations of flavour they made.

That was it. He’d go to a garden centre. Start his own herb garden in the apartment. Little seeded pots all over the windowsills.

He could already see it in his mind and was out the door before noticing he’d put on his shoes.

The two weeks until the piano delivery went surprisingly quickly. So quick, in fact, that by the time the delivery arrived, he’d forgotten he’d placed the order, expensive as it was.

He spent some time fussing over the right space to set it up in the living room. He hadn’t actually told anyone he’d bought the thing, so they were going to have a surprise when they saw it. It wasn’t exactly small.

But it was his.

With the stand was fully assembled, he lifted the heavy piano on top and set up the bench. Then he headed for the storage room.

He rarely went in there, even though half the boxes were his – the last vestiges of his former life as Gabriel’s son. Years ago, he’d packed up a selection of old photographs, books he had an attachment to, awards and trophies, that sort of thing. Sealed it all up and never opened it again, yet he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

Also in there was his old sheet music.

He’d had the foresight to label each box, so he didn’t need to look for long to find what he wanted. On each of them, the old packing tape had been neatly cut.

But he hadn’t done it.

Marinette?

What had she been looking for?

Removing the box he wanted, he reassembled the tower, then knelt on the floor and opened the box, coughing at the dust that flew up in his face.

As he pulled out the music books, he was pummelled with a terrible sense of nostalgia for a time that had never made him happy.

He removed a selection of his favourites, replacing the remaining books in the box and leaving it on the floor. When he got to his feet, his eyes took in the towers of drawers that belonged to Marinette.

Maybe he just wanted to be closer to her, but he found himself drawn to them, pulling one of them open. Inside lay fabric samples and old sketchbooks, prototype pieces she’d designed. It was like looking into her mind.

Warmed, he shut that drawer and opened another – and another – then pulled on the next and found it was locked.

Locked?

Why would she choose to lock just one drawer? What was in it?

And why hadn’t she told him? It was his home, too. Why was any of it off limits to him?

Not that he was prying. Not that she didn’t have a right to privacy. But it was the principle of the thing.

Okay, okay, this wasn’t strange, not at all. She probably just had some sort of super special intellectual property in there and had forgotten to tell him about it.

Like he’d forgotten to tell her about purchasing a €2,000 piano.

He glanced down at the music books, clasped like treasure to his chest, remembering what he was doing – and hurried out of the room, to the kitchen to dust off the books.

In the living room, he positioned one of the books on the music stand, open to a piece he’d always enjoyed playing. The pages stood in place, without the need to hold them back. He’d played the piece that many times.

Then he sat on the bench and hovered his fingers over the keys, memories sweeping through him.

All those pieces he used to play…all of it had been for his father. When Gabriel had gone, Adrien had kept it up for a time, for himself, but then he’d let it all go. Quit Kitten Division because...well, it was hard to remember why. Even after he’d gone on that trip with Felix, Luka had asked him to re-join the band, but he’d said no. Maybe it was something to do with Hugo being born.

Come to think of it, that had been an excuse to quit a lot of things.

He’d been good, but it had been years. He couldn’t expect to be at the same level now, without practising for all that time. Still, he expected muscle memory to kick in.

Yet, as his fingers stumbled over the keys, he found that he could hardly read the music or remember where his fingers went. The fingering was all wrong, rhythm was non-existent, and basically….

‘I can’t play,’ he said to no one at all. ‘I sound like a cat just walked on the keyboard.’ He laughed at the cat reference, then sighed because it wasn’t really that funny.

He visualised the box in the storage room. He hadn’t even kept his beginner’s piano books. Obviously never thought he’d need them again.

He pulled out his phone and searched for new books, dismayed to see that they were all covered in cartoon figures and contained nursery rhymes and other such pieces for children. Adults had reviewed them, using them for themselves – ‘I SLAY at Mary Had a Little Lamb now,’ one review said – but those were adults who had never played before. Adrien used to be talented.

He slumped on the bench, his chest concave with the awareness that his first impulse when trying to find himself again was to try something that had originally been forced on him. He was still trying to be what Gabriel wanted him to be.  

The thought actually made him fall backwards off the bench. Sometimes it was good to be alone.

He rubbed himself and stood, then headed into the kitchen where his plants had now taken root and green shoots could be seen in every pot. ‘At least I got something right.’ Though Marinette had raised an eyebrow at it all.

It was a little frustrating, not being able to hurry along the plant growth so he could make his tea already. Then again, this was probably a life metaphor or something. He probably needed to learn how to be as slow as those plants. Patience and all that. Tea, as well, was not meant to be rushed. The very concept of the tea ceremony was about peace and taking the moment for itself. Mindfulness.

He put a little water in each of the plant trays, trying to stay in the present moment. But his mind drifted, as it always did.

Maybe the issue with piano was that he was trying to play the same things Gabriel had made him play. Maybe he needed to try something new. Something like…John Cage, maybe.

He pulled out his phone to look up more sheet music, when it rang. He groaned when he saw that it was the school. Hugo’s school.

He answered the call and leaned against the kitchen counter.

‘Mr Agreste?’ someone said. It sounded like the principal.

‘Speaking.’

‘I’m very sorry to interrupt your day.’

Oh yes, because he was very busy.

‘Is anything wrong?’ he asked as he considered how much space he had for more plants. He was thinking to get some garlic going.

‘I’m afraid Hugo has been involved in an altercation with another student.’

Adrien blinked as he processed this information. ‘You mean like a fight?’

‘That is another way of describing it, yes.’

‘Is he okay?’

‘Well. He’s a bit bruised but he seems to be fine – although the other boy didn’t fare quite as well. I’m afraid Hugo will be suspended and needs to be picked up from school as soon as you can collect him. We can discuss it further when you’re here.’

‘Um…yeah, of course. I’ll…I’ll be right there.’

‘Thank you for your understanding, Mr Agreste.’

The principal rang off, and Adrien was left standing in the kitchen, staring blankly. He’d forgotten where he was.

He sprang into action, throwing on his shoes and rushing from the apartment. The school was a bus ride away, so he waited at the stop, boarded the bus and was on his way, his mind elsewhere.

What did the principal mean about the other boy not faring quite as well? Had Hugo killed him?

Surely not, or it would be more than suspension. He’d have been arrested. Adrien would have received a call from the police, not simply the school.

That was probably the case if Hugo had sent the boy to hospital, too…right?

By the time he made it to the principal’s office, he’d worked himself into a sweat over the terrible scenarios running through his head. Hugo was in the office too, sporting a nasty looking black eye and bruises blooming on his cheeks. Adrien couldn’t help his gasp of shock or wide eyes at the sight of his son. Then he sat in the chair offered to him.

He could hardly hear the principal’s words as she rattled off the clinical details of the fight. Apparently, the other boy was not a friend of any kind, but also not someone Hugo ever really interacted with. He was not in hospital, but he was still at the nurse’s office recovering. Beyond just bruising, he had some bleeding. It was lucky his nose hadn’t been broken.

Adrien’s heart sank as he listened to the sanctions and warnings and legal ramifications. As the parent, he would be expected to do something about this – to get his child in line, once and for all. As if he had any control over Hugo at all.

Finally, the principal asked, ‘Do you have any questions, Mr Agreste?’

He sat up straighter. ‘Uh, yeah. Actually. I have one. Um…what was the cause of the fight?’ He glanced at his son, who was staring at the floor while they talked about him like he wasn’t right there.

The principal folded her arms over each other, her shoulders square. ‘Boys fight.’

‘Um. With all due respect…no. Not like this. Not over nothing.’

In fact, the only truly personal fight Adrien had ever got into with any of his peers…well, there had been two. One had been with Nino, over a misunderstanding about Alya. The other was with Felix. Neither of them had been aware they were fighting with Adrien until months later.

There had also been some interesting struggles with Ladybug, but that wasn’t the same.

‘Well,’ said the principal. ‘We couldn’t get much of a story out of the two boys, so we have no choice but to punish them both severely. The other boy will also be suspended for his part in things.’

Adrien nodded because this was fair – though it didn’t resolve things.

He had to sign some forms confirming he had received a full explanation and understood the next steps. Then he was walking his shamed teenager out of the school.

The bell had rung, and other students were filing out of their classrooms, just in time to see Hugo being escorted away early by his father. Hugo continued to look at his feet.

Just as they reached the exit doors, a smaller boy hurried over, stopping them, casting Adrien an uncertain glance before murmuring to Hugo, ‘Thank you.’ It was so soft that Adrien almost missed it, but it was there. Then the boy had merged again with the crowd.

Hugo still did not look up.

Adrien stared at him a moment, then pushed open the doors and led them outside. When they’d got some distance from the campus, he said, ‘Was your opponent hurting that boy in some way?’

The look of surprise on Hugo’s face was all the confirmation he needed.

Adrien sighed. ‘Hugo. If you were trying to protect someone, why didn’t you just tell the principal? Why let bullies get away with it?’

Hugo shrugged. ‘I gave as good as I got. I deserve to be suspended.’

This was a sagely summation. ‘Okay, but you can at least let people know you were coming from a good place, even if you took it too far. You know…reassure us all that you’re not just crazy.’

Another shrug. ‘No one would have believed me anyway.’

‘Well, that’s not true, is it, because as you can see, I believe you.’

‘…yeah.’ Hugo was apparently still processing this. He clearly had not expected his father to react in this way.

They made it to the bus stop, where Adrien allowed his son some silence. He didn’t feel like discussing this in public, and it gave him time to prepare what he might say. To consider his next words carefully.

When they got off the bus, and they were walking back to the apartment, Adrien said, ‘Believe it or not, I understand better than you imagine. I used to get involved in fights too – to defend others.’

Hugo raised an eyebrow. ‘Seriously? You? The pretty boy model who could do no wrong?’

‘That’s how you see me?’ Adrien let them into the apartment.

‘There’s literally a binder full of stupid modelling shots of you from magazines and….’ Hugo trailed off as they moved into the living room, eyes wide. ‘Why is there a piano in here?’

‘Because I bought one. You were going through my boxes in the storage room?’ So it was Hugo, not Marinette.

Hugo’s mouth opened, like he’d been caught out in something he’d meant to keep secret.

Adrien put up his hands. ‘Look. I’m not angry – just surprised. You know if you want to know about anything, you can just ask instead of sneaking through stuff without me knowing.’

‘I know that, do I.’ Hugo said this as a statement. A sarcastic one.

‘Okay, I’ll try that again. I’m telling you now that you can do that.’ He sighed heavily. ‘You know that story I told you about sneaking out to see my mother’s film?’

Hugo nodded, his eyes cautious.

‘Right. Well, what I didn’t tell you was that when I went home, Gabriel – I mean, my father – was waiting for me in my room with the film all set up for us to watch together. He said I should have just asked.’

‘Is this the part where you tell me all your problems with your dear old dad were due to you not seeing things from his perspective?’

Adrien scratched his head. ‘Um, no. It just…it was a moment that came to me just now and felt relevant but….’ Was he relating to his father’s side of things, after all these years? ‘Look, we’ve strayed off the subject. The point is, the pretty boy model who could do no wrong was an image fabricated by my father because that was what he wanted. He designed me.’

In more ways than one.

Hugo crossed his arms in challenge. ‘And you had a secret identity or something?’

‘…something like that.’

‘Does Maman know about it?’

‘She does now, yes. Though for a long time, she didn’t. I hid it from her, terrified that maybe she only liked a certain idea she and everyone else had of me and would be disappointed if I shared my whole self.’

Hugo’s arms slowly dropped to his sides. ‘What was that secret self like?’

‘I was…pretty obnoxious, if I think about it. And I made a lot of mistakes. And I was often angry, and sometimes let that anger control me…though not for long.’ Unless you counted that alternative timeline where he’d destroyed all of earth, killed the entire human, animal and plant population, and blown a hole in the moon.

‘But you always did it for the sake of others, huh?’

‘No,’ Adrien admitted. ‘But most of the time I fought on the side of justice, yes.’

Hugo laughed and shook his head. ‘You sound like you were Batman or something.’

Adrien laughed too, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. ‘Wouldn’t that be something…if I’d been Batman.’

‘You’re not butch enough.’

Adrien’s brow lifted. ‘Is that a backhanded insult?’

‘Take it however you want to.’

‘No, no. Are you saying I’d be Robin?’

Hugo shrugged.

Adrien fought off the urge to insist that he was never anyone’s mere sidekick – that he had his Batman moments too – that he was probably more Cat Woman anyway.

Thankfully, Hugo was sitting down at the piano bench, the subject already changing. ‘You used to play.’

‘I guess you saw the books in storage.’

Hugo nodded, no longer hiding it. It was curious. Hugo obviously had questions about the past, even as he seemed to laugh his father off. Had he looked through Marinette’s things? Or just Adrien’s?

Maybe that was why she’d locked one of her drawers.

Oh, thank god. It wasn’t about him. It was about Hugo!

‘I can’t play anymore,’ Adrien said. ‘I mean…I could probably learn again, but…I was trying to find my old self again and, as I said…my father designed me. Maybe that’s not the real me.’

‘The real you is Batman, right?’

‘I don’t think that was ever the real me either. More like…something between the two extremes.’

Hugo started pressing down keys. As far as Adrien was aware, Hugo had never played an instrument in his life. He’d never expressed an interest. Yet he had a natural ability to play notes that sounded good together, and Adrien realised what had gone wrong with his own playing. He had been trying to recreate the work of others when he should have been trying to find his own melodies. He understood chords and structure enough to do it.

Hadn’t he recently accused Marinette of forgetting how to play? Well, so had he. But Hugo knew. Making music didn’t need to be a career, and it didn’t need to be done to get something. Humans had made music and told stories and painted pictures for thousands of years, and not always for money. Sometimes the true value lay in the simple act of creation.

‘Hey, you can…you can play it anytime you want,’ Adrien said. ‘I’m going to order some beginner books, if you feel like learning it for real.’

Hugo’s hands immediately came off the keys and landed in his lap.

Adrien groaned. ‘Don’t not do it just because I suggested it. Please. I won’t make you do anything, but if this calls to you…just go for it, okay?’

He stared at his son’s back for a count of one – two – three –

Then Hugo turned around. ‘Maybe. Not like I have anything else to do while I’m suspended.’

That was a good point.

‘Hey, so…I’m at home all day, too,’ Adrien said. ‘Maybe we could…spend some time together?’

Hugo arched an eyebrow.

Adrien hurried on. ‘Maybe this is even fate, right? Because I just stopped working at the bakery two weeks ago and now you’re at home for two weeks. I need to work on my papers, and you still need to do your schoolwork, but we could maybe do our work at the same time, bounce ideas off each other, help each other out…take some breaks and actually do some things.’

‘…like what?’

Adrien shrugged. ‘You could help me with the plants, and I could go through piano with you, and we could…do something you actually want to do…. Sorry, all of that sounds really boring, I know.’

‘No, no, I just….’ Hugo’s shoulders seemed to draw inwards, like a protective instinct. Like he felt small and needed to hide. ‘You want to drop everything just to spend time with me?’

‘Why not? I did it when you were born.’

The eyebrow shot up again. ‘You weren’t just….’ He looked down quickly, playing with his hands in his lap.

What had he been about to say? Maybe: You weren’t just avoiding the rest of life? Or maybe that was just the therapist’s ideas in Adrien’s head.

He stepped towards his son and touched his shoulder. ‘You’re my son, Hugo. My first child ever. When you were born, I couldn’t bear to put you down. To be honest, I was intensely jealous of your mother for being the one with breasts and getting your exclusive attention…though I think she probably felt differently about that, when the sleep-deprivation set in.’

Hugo looked up at him, under thick dark eyelashes that were all Marinette. Sometimes it was easy to forget this boy had once been that tiny clingy baby who needed long drives around the neighbourhood to ease him off to sleep. Sometimes it was easy to forget how small and fragile he truly was, and that he would forever need his parents to give him hugs and tell him they loved him.

Adrien wrapped his arms around his son and pressed him close.

‘What are you doing?’ Hugo asked, hanging sceptically in his arms.

‘What does it look like?’

‘Okay, but why?’

‘I’m your father. Do I really need a reason to tell you I love you?’

Hugo didn’t respond to that, and Adrien chose to take it as submission. Especially when he felt his son’s arms begin to wrap around him in return.

When he’d had his fill of the moment, Adrien pulled away and smiled. ‘I’m going to make some tea. You want some?’

‘…could it be…?’

‘…yes?’

‘Could…you make me some Moroccan mint, please?’

Adrien grinned. ‘That’s my boy. Two Moroccan mints, coming up.’ He turned, about to head for the kitchen, when Hugo stopped him again.

‘Papa?’

Two syllables not heard from that boy’s lips in who even knew how many years.

Adrien slowly turned back to him, willing himself not to cry. ‘Yeah?’

‘Could we maybe…do the fencing thing you mentioned? You know, like…just…sometime when you’re…when –’

‘I’d love that,’ Adrien said. And they shared a smile before he left for the kitchen, the grin so wide on his face that his cheeks ached.

It seemed that sometimes you really did need to clear your mind – or your calendar – of everything else, to make way for the answers.

Chapter Text

Marriage meant moving in together, at last. Not in the apartment that Marinette had been renting, and not in the mansion that Adrien had sold while he was travelling, but somewhere new. After viewing more than twenty properties, they settled on the apartment that they would make their own over the decades to come.

There were too many bedrooms, but that was okay because they had plans. This was future proofing. They selected the biggest for themselves and assigned two rooms as spares for guests, plus a storage room at the back that included Marinette’s sewing station, where she could cover the place in diagrams and fabric swatches to her heart’s delight.

While she continued her PA job, attempting to make connections in the fashion industry, Adrien focused on decorating the apartment. She had her creative outlet and now he had his.

‘I really get free rein over the colours?’ he said, doubtful.

‘I promise. You paid for the apartment. This is your project.’

This led to long hours in the paint mixing department of the hardware store, awestruck at how many shades of white there could be, each with a name more ridiculous than the last. He had an idea that every room could be a different colour. Nothing too dark or bright – pale enough to add colour but still not be intrusive and overpowering. And he would paint it all himself.

Like a child on Christmas Eve, he rushed around the store, throwing paints and masking tape and a step ladder and anything else he needed into an enormous trolley. Back at home, he threw open the windows, then cranked up some music and sank into his task.

Every wall required three coats, plus the ceiling and the skirting boards. He imagined he was in The Karate Kid, painting the fence in upward and downward motions.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Plagg asked when Adrien paused to do some actual martial arts moves.

Adrien collected himself and resumed painting, leaving Plagg to his cheese.

When he took breaks, it was to make himself tea from his growing collection of blends. He was certain some of it was doing things to his mind – opening it, expanding it and clearing it – because he would go deep within himself while he painted, and come out feeling refreshed the way he did after a long period of meditation. His time with the Order lingered with him in these ways. He could carry their instruction into his daily life, and Plagg was there to give helpful tips from all his time with the Guardians over the millennia.

Sometimes Adrien would catch sight of his left hand, of the ring he now wore, mirroring the miraculous he wore on his right hand. There was a beautiful balance to it, and the reality that Marinette was his wife now took his breath away. He couldn’t get used to it. How could this be happening? How had he been so fortunate? How had Gabriel become a thing of the past?

So much a thing of the past that, on marriage, when he’d found out he could change his name for free, Adrien had removed all four of his middle names. Émile Gabriel Donatien Athanase were now part of another reality, just like the people who had once named him.

He took up cooking, as well, because it was only fair, what with Marinette going out to work all day and him just…around the house, trying to work out what he wanted to do, like an eternal bachelor who…happened to be married. Recently, he’d got into Thai food.

One afternoon, he was making a curry while daydreaming about gravity-defying Thai coffee, when he heard the front door open too early.

He glanced at Plagg, who was at the kitchen table pouring over the latest issue of Gentleman’s Cheese. Plagg seemed wholly absorbed.

Adrien went out into the living room to greet his wife – his wife! – with a ladle still in his hand. Then he noticed her expression.

‘Are you okay? Did something happen?’

‘I’m…fine,’ Marinette said, not sounding it. ‘I guess I’m just tired. Are you making dinner?’

‘Yep. Thai green curry.’

‘Sounds delicious.’ Her voice was flatter than paper. ‘I’m going to freshen up and then I’ll join you in the kitchen.’

‘Okay, sure.’ He didn’t comment on the small bag she was gripping so tightly that her hand had gone white, or the fact that she took that bag down the hall to the bathroom, where he heard the distinct click of the door locking.

He returned to the kitchen, trying to put himself back in his happy place.

Thai coffee.

But as he seasoned the curry, he couldn’t help but glance repeatedly at the time on his phone. ‘Marinette’s been in the bathroom a long time.’

‘Maybe you should check on her,’ Plagg suggested, though he didn’t sound like he cared either way.

Adrien reached a reasonable stopping place with the curry and took it off the burner, switched off the hob, and headed for the bathroom. He knocked gently on the door. ‘Marinette?’

There was silence.

Then…was that crying?

He pressed his ear to the door, his heart thumping. Yes, that was definitely crying. ‘Marinette, open the door.’ His tone was more commanding now, but there was no response, and so he yelled, ‘Plagg – claws out!’ A moment later, he had cataclysmed the bathroom door. He’d, uh…replace that another time.

Marinette was curled up in a ball on the floor. She didn’t look up at him, seemingly unaware of his presence or the destruction of their door. Tikki hovered at her side, her eyes drawn in concern. When she saw Cat Noir, she flew swiftly out of the bathroom.

He was beside Marinette in a blink, his arms wrapping around her and drawing her against his chest. ‘Hey, shh, what’s wrong?’

Then he saw it. On the floor. With a very clear dark blue cross on the little screen.

‘Is that…?’

She nodded against him, her tears falling harder.

‘Okay, um….’ Words had deserted him. That sense of unreality was upon him again.

It simply couldn’t be. It hit him that he did have a plan for life, after all – his plan was to figure out what the hell his plan was. And he’d intended to accomplish that before they started having children. How was he supposed to raise a child with no idea who he was? What lessons was he meant to pass on? What kind of example would he be?

Had Gabriel ever felt this sense of panic? Or Emilie? When they’d found out they were having a baby, had they collapsed on the bathroom floor in tears, too?

That wasn’t about me, anyway. That was about Julien. When they made me, there were tears, but for a different reason. Emilie didn’t want me.

History could not repeat itself.

He ran his claws through Marinette’s messy hair. ‘Please don’t cry over this. If we’re going to do this, let’s…let’s not have our first child’s life begin with tears.’

‘I’m so scared, Adrien.’

‘Me too.’

‘But you don’t have as much to be scared of.’ She pulled away enough to look at him, her eyes hot with some emotion he found difficult to identify. ‘You don’t have a job. You don’t have all these dreams. You don’t need to take time off, and your body won’t be changing.’

He winced at how easily she had just reeled off those truths about him. Then he took her hands. ‘You’re right. But…I’m not sure what to say to some of that. If I could change how biology works and take some of those burdens off you, I would, but….’

She let out a snort of laughter, sniffed and shook her head sadly. ‘I’m sorry. I know. I know none of that is your fault. I just…I don’t even know where to begin with this. We’re so young, Adrien!’

‘We are. But…we also found each other so young. In a way…maybe we’re right on schedule. Even if it isn’t so great for your career.’

She hung her head.

‘You know you don’t even need to work,’ Adrien pointed out.

‘But I want to. I want…something for myself. You know? I don’t want to just live off your money. I’m not that kind of woman.’

He nodded, defeated. ‘I was trying to ease the stress a little but…I do know. And you’re right that I don’t have dreams like you do. As you know, all I wanted as a child was to be whatever my parents wanted me to be, and now…I guess I never filled in the gaps.’ He let go of her hand and held his hands in his lap. ‘A man with no ambition can’t be very attractive.’

‘Oh, Adrien.’ She took his hand back.

He pressed hers. ‘I don’t have answers here. I’m feeling spectacularly useless, to be honest. But one thing I do know is that I am going to be there for you every step of the way. We will get through this, the same way we’ve got through everything else – together. You and me against the world, right?’

She smiled through her tears. ‘Right,’ she whispered, then she threw herself into his arms again.

He held her tightly, focusing on her, on her worry…so he didn’t have to think about his own. Over her shoulder, his gaze landed on the plastic stick, and his breath caught.

He’d somehow just helped create a life.

But he was a sentimonster.

He’d never been born, and yet somehow the magic was so strong and clever that he had the same ability as any other man to produce offspring – apparently. It only hit him now that he’d never really believed this was possible.

That little blue cross was…miraculous.

‘If it’s a boy, his name is Hugo,’ she informed him.

He laughed against her. ‘See, you really do have all the answers here – just like I knew you would.’

She squeezed him tight. ‘Thank you.’

He squeezed her back.

‘I guess we should…tell my parents. And our closest friends. And….’ She stopped there, and he thought he knew why. He didn’t have many people to tell. ‘You should tell Felix,’ she finished.

Felix . Once upon a time, Adrien’s one true family. But that was no longer the case. He had Marinette now. And soon they would have Hugo – if it was a boy. Soon, he would have a real family all his own.

He pulled back and helped her to her feet. ‘We should let Plagg and Tikki know.’

‘Yeah. But, um…Adrien?’ She gestured at the doorway – at the door he had dissolved with his touch.

‘Yeah. You know what I’m like.’ He led her back into the living room, where Tikki hovered.

Adrien de-transformed and Plagg flew out, joining Tikki, who exchanged a look with him.

Holding Marinette’s hand firmly, Adrien said, ‘We’re having a baby.’

‘That’s fantastic!’ Tikki exclaimed.

Plagg’s eyes wobbled and he looked quickly down.

‘Are you…crying?’ Adrien questioned.

‘Maybe!’ Plagg yelped. ‘I just can’t believe you’re all grown up and finally getting this life for yourself and…I need more camembert!’ He turned away.

Adrien released Marinette and picked up his kwami, pressing him to his face, his own eyes wet too. ‘Thank you, Plagg. I should have remembered that you’re family too.’

Adrien told Felix the news over video call. His twin was still at work – a post with the Conservative party over in London – but he’d taken the call immediately. Perhaps Adrien had transmitted his urgency through the ether.

‘The first of your three children,’ Felix said. He was seated at some kind of desk in front of a wall lined with ancient red velvet curtains.

Adrien grinned. ‘Apparently.’

‘Does this child already have a name?’

‘Hugo, if he’s a boy.’

‘Marinette’s choice, I’m sure.’

Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I like the name.’

‘I’m sure you do. Well. That’s quite something. I suppose this makes me an uncle soon.’ There was something magical about hearing these words. ‘So, tell me why you seem so frightened.’

Marinette had not asked for these details, but Adrien should have known Felix would pick on it.

‘I’ve had no real role model,’ Adrien said. ‘I have no memories of being an infant or even a small child. Everything begins later, and even then, it’s just…vague memories that may have been imprinted on me, about this mother figure I idealised because…well, she wasn’t real, was she. And then there was Gabriel. What if I….’

‘Ah. We’re back to this again.’ Felix sighed. ‘You’re perpetually convinced you’ll turn out just like him. But you know – I wonder if heredity even works that way for us. You have his DNA because you were made that way, but how much about you is a mythical design that contradicts all of that?’

‘Okay, but….’ Adrien paused. ‘My head hurts.’

Felix cracked a half-smile.

‘The thing is…you’re suggesting everything is nature. What about nurture?’ Adrien asked. ‘Or, in this case, a lack thereof? When I have to discipline my child, will I react like Gabriel did? Will I have all these expectations for my son and get frustrated when he subverts them?’

‘I don’t know. Will you?’

‘They were rhetorical questions.’

‘No, they weren’t,’ said Felix. ‘They’re good questions and I’m throwing them back at you.’

‘Well, I don’t want to do all that stuff.’

‘Okay, so you won’t.’

Adrien frowned. ‘It’s as simple as that?’

‘Why not? I mean…do you have expectations about anyone else?’

‘No.’

‘Why would you have them for your child?’

‘Maybe it’s different when it’s your child,’ Adrien said.

‘No. Gabriel had expectations for everyone. You had it worse because you were his son, but he held the whole world up to standards he couldn’t even live up to himself. The man was a total nutter.’

Adrien laughed at this uncharacteristic vocabulary from his brother. ‘But what if something comes out of me that I didn’t even know was in there?’

‘Why does it have to be Gabriel? Maybe it will be Emilie. She was better.’

‘But she did have a mean temper if you crossed her. And actually…hey, are you alone there?’

‘I am.’

‘Okay. Well, did you know I once destroyed a wall because I was jealous that Ladybug might have replaced me? Hardly even noticed I’d done it until the damage was done.’

Felix stared back at him, his face impassive. ‘I didn’t know that, no.’

‘Or how about all those times I killed myself?’

‘You knew Ladybug would bring you back.’

‘I believed she would, yes. Knew, no.’

‘So…what? You think you’ll start smashing down the house and jumping off buildings when your son stresses you out?’

‘I’m saying I don’t know what I’m capable of when I’m in that state of mind.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ said Felix. ‘You told me about your Cat Blanc embracing the shadow business. You’ve owned your darkness. You’re Luke Skywalker, remember? You might have your moments, but you won’t fall apart. You’re too strong for that.’

‘…I am?’

Felix sighed. ‘Adrien. When are you going to believe in yourself? All joking aside, this baby truly is wonderful news, and I am ecstatic about it.’ He said this in his usual dry tone. ‘It’s a chance to break the old cycle and start anew.’

‘…start anew….’

‘Build a better future. Isn’t that what you wanted to do with me? Now’s your chance to take it further. This is the family you always dreamed of. This has always been your goal…and it’s finally here.’

Adrien felt his breath leave him for a moment. ‘You’re…right. This is an opportunity.’

‘Indeed.’

‘I won’t have some terrible cold relationship with my son like I did with my father.’

‘I can’t conceive of that,’ said Felix.

‘My son will feel open with me. He’ll come to me with his problems. And discuss things with me. Seek my advice.’

‘You’ve certainly got enough lived experience to share.’

‘He’ll do things with me. We’ll go out together on weekends, maybe.’ He was really warming up to the idea, now. ‘You’ll never meet a more loved child. He’ll grow up with two parents who are always there for each other and support him through every decision and every pain. We’ll be the closest family you can imagine.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ said Felix. ‘Please may I speak to Marinette now. I’d like to pass on my congratulations.’

Adrien smiled and hurried into the kitchen to retrieve her. She was at the table, looking at him with a guilty expression over an enormous bowl of ice cream. He handed her the phone and sat across from her, half-listening to their conversation.

Half turned into not at all as he thought back on her parents’ reactions when they’d told them earlier. They had been thrilled. ‘My little girl – a mother!’ Tom had gushed. It had almost been possible to see the babies dancing in the man’s eyes.

What would Gabriel have said? Or even Nathalie?

He snatched the bowl from Marinette and helped himself to a mouthful.

The call ended and Marinette retrieved her bowl. ‘Mine,’ she said.

‘There’s definitely enough for two, there.’

‘Well, I’m eating for two now, aren’t I.’

‘I don’t think that’s how it works.’

She shot him a look that plainly said that if he wanted to argue it, he could deliver the baby. Then she sighed and shovelled more ice cream into her mouth, letting the spoon dangle in her hand after. ‘Do you realise that this is one of the last times we’ll ever be alone together?’

‘What…what do you mean?’

‘When the baby comes…there’ll be three of us. All the time.’

‘Yeah, but…I mean, we’ll still have date nights or something…won’t we?’ No, he would not be jealous of their child, especially before he was even born.

She smiled at him, but she looked tired. The skin around her eyes was still puffy from crying, first at the test result and then at her parents’ reaction. ‘I wonder what he’ll be like. Hugo, I mean.’ At some point, they had both accepted that was who was growing in her stomach.

…growing in her stomach….

‘He’ll probably be a bit of a handful,’ she said. ‘Like you.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘You think I’m a handful?’

‘You have your moments.’ The ice cream had run out and she looked mournfully into her empty bowl.

‘I bet he’ll be super smart, like you,’ Adrien said. ‘And creative.’

‘He’ll have a huge heart, like you,’ she said.

‘And he’ll get your beautiful blue eyes.’

‘And your blond curls.’

‘You’ll be the most amazing mother in the history of mothers.’

‘You’ll be the most amazing father.’

The word hit him like an arrow. Father. He fell back in his chair. ‘Wow.’

‘Yeah. Wow.’

They shared a look. Then he got up and rounded the table, kneeling on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned the side of his face against her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he sighed.

Hugo . It was too soon to hear him or feel him move, but he was there with them, in that moment. Someone wholly new – someone surprising.

Oh, little Hugo , he sent his thoughts to the tiny person forming in there. Who will you be?

Chapter Text

‘You pour the water over the teapot and the cups first, then empty the cups,’ Adrien explained. He demonstrated, first pouring water into one of the dainty purple clay cups, then using it to dowse its partner and the matching teapot. The liquid rolled off the sides of the pot and pooled on the varnished wooden tray that sat on the living room table. Then he emptied the cups. ‘That cleans them and keeps them warm.’

Hugo stared at him over the table. ‘Why not just put your cups in the dishwasher so they’re clean, and use the electric kettle? That’s warm as soon as it’s boiled. Some might even say hot.’

‘Because centuries ago, the Chinese didn’t have dishwashers and electric kettles.’

‘Okay, but we’re in France and it’s the twenty-first century and we do have them.’

Adrien sighed at his plebian son. ‘This isn’t about convenience and speed. This is about being present and enjoying the moment.’

Hugo frowned. ‘Exactly how slow is this supposed to be?’

‘Not as slow as the Japanese tea ceremony, so stop complaining. Now, look at these leaves. See how they curl? It’s from the oxidisation process.’ They were loose in a bag he’d bought at a specialist boutique in town, and he sprinkled them into the cups.

Hugo pointed at the Chinese ideograms carved into the cups. ‘What’s that say?’

‘Tea. Now –’

‘Really? That’s it?’

‘That’s it. You hold the teapot like so, with your forefinger here to stop the lid from coming off – hold it up – and pour.’ After years of practice, he had perfect control over the action. He absorbed himself in the vision of the water spilling out, imagining himself as the water, adaptable and powerful. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? That delicate arc it makes?’

‘Yeah,’ Hugo said in the blandest voice ever. ‘Shouldn’t the water be boiling?’

‘Interestingly, no. There are different ideal brewing temperatures for each infusion. A full boil can spoil some leaves.’

‘So, I can drink it now?’

‘Yes, but –’

Before he could stop him, Hugo was grabbing the cup and gulping it down. Adrien let out another heavy sigh.

Hugo wiped his wet chin. ‘What? You said I could drink it.’

‘Yes, but not like that. Watch me.’ He reached around his own cup, wrapping his hand around the side facing away from him, then lifted it and tipped it back into his mouth.

‘That looks so impractical,’ Hugo said. ‘Why not give it a handle and hold it by the side?’

‘Take it up with the whole of east Asia.’ He poured his son more tea. ‘Try again.’

Hugo rolled his eyes and tried it, spilling some of the water down his t-shirt and cursing in a way that was very out of spirit with the whole tea ceremony. ‘These cups are too small. Hit me up with some more.’

‘You’re supposed to savour it, give it a swirl, that sort of thing. Study the smells, swish the tea around in your mouth, examine each sensation, record it in your memory.’ Adrien poured more water on the same leaves. ‘Try it again – slowly.’

Hugo sighed. ‘Alright.’ He took a smaller sip this time and fell silent, his cheeks moving like he was swishing it around.

‘How would you describe it?’

Hugo swallowed. ‘Kind of like flowers, maybe? And sweet. And a little…I don’t know. Toasty?’

‘Excellent!’

‘You are way too excited about this. How’d you get into this stuff, anyway? Is it something to do with how you speak Mandarin with Uncle Wang? Did he teach you about tea?’

Adrien swirled the tea around his cup in gentle spirals. ‘It was one of my tutors.’

‘A Mandarin tutor? Was it hard to learn?’ He had no idea that by asking that second question, he’d just saved Adrien from lying.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it at the time. It was just…one of those things I had to do and there was no getting out of it, so…why dwell?’ He poured himself more tea.

Hugo held out his cup for more, too. ‘You mean your father made you learn Mandarin?’

Adrien nodded. ‘And piano and fencing and Japanese and –’

‘Hang on. You know Japanese?’

‘…yes? And English. And Spanish.’

‘Okay, okay, but like…can you watch anime without the subtitles?’

Adrien sensed this was his moment to impress. ‘I can indeed.’

Hugo shook his head in obvious awe. ‘How did I not know this about you?’

‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Hugo. You’re fourteen. We’re still getting to know each other. But the older you get, the more you’ll see me as a normal person. Then you’ll get to know me more.’

‘Is that what happened with you and your father?’

‘My father was never a normal person.’ He took a long drink of his tea, then set down the cup and licked his lips.

Hugo was boring holes into him with his eyes, like there was something on his mind but he didn’t know if he should share it.

‘Whatever you want to say, just say it,’ Adrien told him. ‘Sharing tea like this…well, it’s a time for sharing other things too. If we can’t talk over tea, when can we talk?’

Hugo’s eyes softened. ‘I was just…trying to figure you out, I guess. And wondering….’

‘Wondering…?’

‘Well, if your dad was that controlling…what did you want to do when you were my age? Like…beyond what you were made to do.’

Adrien tried not to linger on the word ‘made’. ‘To be honest, I just wanted to make your mother fall in love with me.’

‘…that’s it? You didn’t want to be a race car driver or a marine biologist or whatever? Your whole life’s ambition at age fourteen was to make a girl fall for you?’

‘Not a girl. Your mother, Hugo. She was…god, she was and always will be special. I knew it the moment I first laid eyes on her. She was the first thing I ever wanted for myself.’ Was that oversharing?

‘But…what about after you won her over? What then?’

‘You’re very astute, Hugo. I don’t think I ever quite figured out the “what then” part, hence I’m pushing forty and doing my master’s in something I secretly think I suck at.’

Maybe that was oversharing, because Hugo looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth open.

‘Sorry,’ Adrien muttered. ‘I did say you’d start seeing me as a normal person, and normal people aren’t perfect.’ So far from perfect.

Hugo chewed on his lip. ‘What did you do to make Maman fall in love with you?’

Interesting question. ‘What did I do that actually worked…or what did I try?’

‘…both?’

‘Oh lord. I’m gonna need more tea for that story.’ He poured more into their cups and considered what he was permitted to say. ‘For starters, I brought her roses in all different colours. I snuck them out of my back garden.’

‘Why did you have to sneak the…. Did your father monitor the roses?’

‘Well, see, it was this bush he’d planted around this memorial for my mother and…well, anyway. One evening, I invited your mother up to this rooftop where I’d set up candles all over and prepared a kind of picnic and….’ He trailed when he saw the way his son was looking at him. ‘What?’

‘Just…what is it with you and rooftops? And where did you get all the candles? You seriously did this at fourteen?’

‘I seriously did this at fourteen. And I charged the candles to my father’s credit card. He never looked at the statements. He had this assistant, Nathalie, and for all her faults, she never asked me about it.’

Hugo shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine Maman being won over by some roses and candles.’

‘She wasn’t. In fact, she stood me up. But, um…actually, she didn’t. I just…there was a misunderstanding. It’s complicated.’ He downed some of his tea.

‘Any other grand gestures?’

‘I wrote her a poem, once.’

Hugo’s brow lifted. ‘Was it any good?’

‘I like to think so. For fourteen, anyway. I mean, it wasn’t exactly Baudelaire, but….’

‘Who?’

Adrien narrowed his eyes at his son. ‘Do you listen to anything in school?’

Hugo grinned in a way that told him he was having him on and knew damn well who Baudelaire was, and maybe could even recite some of his work. ‘You never wrote anything after that?’

‘…no.’

‘Why not? Maybe that was your thing.’

‘I very much doubt that.’

‘But how do you know? Did the poem work?’

‘Actually, she, um…she wrote me one back. I just didn’t know it at the time. There was a misunderstanding. It’s complicated.’ He had more tea.

‘She didn’t sign it?’ Hugo guessed.

‘Yeah! I recognised her handwriting later, but she kept insisting we were just friends, so –’

‘Hold up! Are you telling me she liked you too?’

‘Yeah, actually. She was trying to get up the nerve to tell me, but she couldn’t talk straight. She came out with some hilarious things when she mixed up her words. Did hilarious things, too. There was this time when she dressed up as a boy and gate-crashed this party my guy friends had thrown for me when Gabriel was away on a business trip, and….’

He trailed off again because it had just hit him that Gabriel must not have been on a business trip at all. Not when Wayhem was akumatised that same day.

Was Gabriel in the basement the whole time? Through everything he did? Listening?

This thought was interrupted by the sound of Hugo laughing. ‘Maman did that?’

Adrien cleared his throat. ‘Y-yeah. She would have got away with it, too, if I hadn’t pressured her to take up the role of the moustachioed biker in this dance routine to this old Station Nation record I inherited from my mother.’

Hugo clutched his stomach and was turning red. ‘I can’t – believe – that’s Maman.’

Adrien laughed with him, and the laughter turned to a nostalgic smile. ‘Your mother has always been able to make me laugh like no one else. She brought me out of myself when I was at my lowest, and she’s been there for me every moment since.  She’s the smartest, kindest, best person I’ve ever known.’ At the thought of her, his heart warmed his chest.

‘But…she makes you so unhappy, now,’ Hugo said, all traces of laughter gone.

Adrien sighed. ‘She doesn’t make me unhappy. I do that all on my own.’

‘But she’s never home.’ There was something in his words. Something he was holding back. Something that said this was now more about him than about Adrien. Did Marinette make Hugo unhappy?

‘Your mother is like me – she’s a normal person, and that means sometimes she gets things wrong. What’s important is that she always tries her best to learn and do better. We both do. I think you do, too.’

His son stared down at his empty teacup, and Adrien didn’t dare break the silence. He waited for whatever Hugo needed to say. Maybe this would be their moment of revelation, when he finally shared whatever he’d been carrying for so long.

But instead, he looked up and said, ‘You should write her another poem.’

‘What?’

‘For your anniversary next week. You’ve been stressing over what to do for it. You should recreate it all – write her a poem and do the candles and roses on the rooftop thing again.’

It was Adrien’s turn to stare. ‘How did you know I was stressing about that?’

‘Oh, I….’ He scratched at his head. ‘I just…had this feeling.’

‘No, no. I haven’t shared that with anyone, not even Nino or your uncle Felix. How did you know?’

Hugo’s expression shut off, despite all their progress that afternoon. ‘I guess I’m just perceptive, aren’t I.’ His tone left no room for argument. There was even the hint of a threat in it. Like if pushed, he would be out of that room faster than the questions could be fired at him.

‘Very perceptive,’ Adrien conceded, his eyes still narrowed at his son. ‘Especially for your age. But you have a good idea, there. I know exactly which roof I set it up on, last time.’ Getting on the roof would be a little different, now that they were older. Without powers, they’d have to take stairs. ‘I bet I could hire it out.’

‘Don’t forget the poem.’

‘Yeah, that…might be harder.’

‘I could help you,’ Hugo offered, earning another surprised look. ‘I mean…if you get stuck for ideas, that is.’

Adrien tilted his head in consideration. Just how much was Hugo picking up about their marriage? Lila’s words came back to him – about Hugo describing their marriage as ‘failing’.

‘Hugo….’ He shifted position. ‘You do know your mother and I aren’t, like…on the rocks…don’t you?’

‘Oh yeah, I know. You’re both still crazy about each other, but there have been a lot of misunderstandings. It’s complicated.’ He winked back.

Adrien couldn’t help but grin. ‘Something like that. You…really feel we’re still crazy about each other?’

‘I do. You don’t need to worry about Maman. She thinks about you all the time.’ He said this with complete certainty, as if she’d told him herself.

‘Are you psychic or something?’

Hugo laughed a little loudly. ‘Maybe I should boil some more water.’ He took the teapot and hurried out to the kitchen.

Adrien rubbed his temples, responsibilities forcing themselves back into his awareness. ‘Actually,’ he called to the kitchen, ‘I think it’s time we got back to work. You still have that chemistry work, and my paper won’t write itself.’

He cleared up the teapot and cups and carried the tray into the kitchen, where he deposited it on the table. He patted Hugo on the shoulder. ‘Go on. Back to homework.’

Hugo groaned, which gave Adrien some pleasure, knowing his son preferred to spend more time with him, even if it was only because the alternative was homework. Then they headed back into the living room, where they picked up their discarded books and laptops from the floor.

Hugo took up the sofa, while Adrien sat on the floor facing him, with the laptop on the coffee table. It was true, he had a paper to write. But now his mind was spinning with this idea of a poem for Marinette. Only fourteen or not, Hugo was obviously a born romantic. Maybe he took after Adrien, that way.

What had he written to Marinette the first time around? What had he written to Ladybug? Something about her bluebell eyes? Maybe he’d include something like that again.

In fact, he started there.

Time cannot dim your bluebell eyes.

Hm.... Maybe not.

He tapped his chin, waiting for the words to come to him. Closed his eyes and thought of Marinette, drinking her essence deeply in like fine tea. Then opened his eyes and started typing in an inspired flurry.

Marinette –

My lady –

My best friend –

My one true love –

The one who has stuck with me through every up and down,

Seen me through every crash, every fall –

Seen every flaw

And loved me anyway.

Time and age cannot dim your beauty

Or calm my heart when I look at you,

Nor dim the light in your bluebell eyes,

The keenness of intelligence

Or that spark of creativity that burns like wildfire in your heart

Or the love I carry in mine when I think of you.

If at times I seem to need you too much,

It’s only my admiration,

My longing not just for you but for even a morsel of your essence

To rub off on me

And help me become

More than I am.

When he’d typed the last character, he leaned back, re-reading his words. It didn’t rhyme, and there was no rhythm, but that was okay. He could do free verse. The real trouble was that it didn’t feel like it really said enough.

If only he were gifted with imagery. What he really needed was a strong metaphor, but…nothing was coming to him. It was impossible to capture the intensity of his feelings in a handful of words.

‘Wow,’ said Hugo, suddenly beside him.

Adrien jumped. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be doing chemistry homework?’

‘I finished. You were zoning out at that screen for ages, and when I saw you typing like a demon, with that weird look on your face, I had to see what was up.’

‘You…read the whole thing?’ Was this the sort of thing you wanted to share with your son?

‘Uh-huh. That’s heavy.’

‘Well, you know.’ He shifted in discomfort. ‘You probably don’t want to be reading love poems from me to your mother.’ He slammed down the lid of the laptop.

‘Actually, it’s…pretty cool.’

‘…it is?’

Hugo shrugged, not making eye contact. ‘Yeah. Seeing that you love each other so much, and…seeing that you’re…I don’t know….’

‘…normal?’

‘Yeah. With…those kinds of feelings and, like…insecurities, I guess. You’re not….’

‘…some impenetrable wall or statue you can’t get through to.’ Adrien let out a silent laugh. ‘Like my father.’

‘Y-yeah….’ Hugo pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. ‘Hey, I’m…I’m sorry I’ve been…mean to you or whatever.’ His shoulders drew in and he stared at the floor, his cheeks flushed, looking about half his age.

Adrien’s eyes widened. He’d fantasised so many times about this moment of breakthrough – about his son finally acknowledging the hurt he’d caused – about all the things he would say to Hugo to make sure he really understood just how bad it all was. But now that the moment was upon him, he didn’t want to say anything at all. He…didn’t care. Didn’t want to linger on the past. Only wanted to move forward.

He patted him on the shoulder. ‘Hey, why don’t you play me some more of your piano while I actually work on my paper?’

Hugo looked up – met his eyes and smiled – then got up and took his seat at the piano bench, where he slayed ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’. It was possibly the best piano piece Adrien had ever heard. He even secretly recorded it on his phone, to play back for himself later.

Hugo moved onto another piece and Adrien opened his laptop again, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Normal….

That had just been a spur-of-the-moment speech he’d delivered – not how he sincerely believed Hugo would ever see him. And yet…he did.

Was it true? Was Adrien really normal?

Was that even possible, if he was a sentimonster?

And would he lose all he’d built up in the last week with his son if Hugo ever found out the truth?

Adrien brought up his paper again and stared at the words he’d written so far, on the developmental importance of lying. He swallowed and carried on writing.

Chapter Text

Patrol was not the same without Ladybug. Adrien tried to tell himself it was good bonding time with Nino, as Cat and Carapace, but…the dynamic wasn’t the same.

Sitting on the rooftop with Carapace afterwards also wasn’t nearly as much fun as it was with Ladybug – for obvious reasons.

Was it overly dramatic to think of it as the end of an era? The end of his childhood? That was supposed to have ended with Gabriel’s banishment. But actually, it was his time with Ladybug that had defined those days.

After one of their evening patrols, Cat sat on a rooftop with Carapace and stared out over the city. Bro time, Carapace called it. The view wasn’t as good as the one in the usual LadyNoir spot, but oh well. That was sacred ground Cat refused to share with anyone, even his best friend and pseudo-brother.

It was a pretty perfect moment, until Carapace opened his mouth and pronounced the fatal words. ‘I guess you’ll have to quit all this when you’re a dad.’

Cat turned a sharp stare on him. ‘What?’

‘Well, you can’t go running around Paris fighting bad guys when you have a baby to look after at home…right?’

Cat blinked, his friend’s reasoning refusing to clarify in his mind.

Carapace groaned. ‘Dude. You mean you haven’t even thought of this, yet? This is news to you?’

‘…I guess it is.’ He stared down at his claws. Claws that had somehow become a part of him – as had everything else about his costume and this life as Cat Noir. If he gave it up…who would he be?

Was he still trying to figure out the answer to this question, all these years later?

Carapace whistled and shook his head. ‘How’s Marinette handling it all, anyway? Is she having a hard time not being Ladybug anymore?’

‘I…don’t know. I think maybe she was looking forward to having some time off from the gig anyway. She has that PA job, and the other day she went to this party where she met someone who was interested in looking at her designs. They exchanged business cards. If she becomes this big-time fashion designer, and a mother…I guess she won’t have time for the miraculousing.’

‘Eh. Your father did it.’

Yeah…and at what cost? ‘There…isn’t time for all of it. Something has to give. You just focus your energy on what’s most important to you. In Gabriel’s case, that meant not bothering with me. But Marinette…I think she’ll choose us. She’ll choose our family.’ That word, family, made his heart flutter. He kicked his legs against the roof edge.

‘Okay. So, you get what I’m saying about you having to give something up, too.’

‘I’m different. I don’t have career plans.’

His friend frowned at him. ‘You’ll find your passion someday. Maybe having a baby will even be the thing that helps you find it.’

Cat stopped kicking his legs, relishing the feeling of his nerves settling. ‘You really think so?’

‘No idea. But having a baby…dude, that has to change you. I can’t even believe it…you know? You’re bringing a person into the world. That’s insane.’

‘God, I know. I’m watching Marinette’s body change every day and just thinking I can’t believe this is real and there’s a life growing inside of her. Did I tell you this week it’s the size of a mango?’

‘Like, a thousand times. What I want to know is why these things are always measured in fruit. Nora had a similar app when she had her daughter.’

For some reason, that made Cat feel really old.

‘Is she still getting morning sickness?’ Carapace asked.

‘Do you still call it morning sickness if it’s all day and all night? If so, then….’

‘Dude. I’m glad I’m not a woman.’

Cat recalled what Marinette said, about it not being the same for him – about it not being his body. This became more apparent every day. And it would only get worse the closer they got to the delivery date…which he wasn’t really allowing himself to think about.

He pushed himself up to standing. ‘I should get back to her.’

Carapace joined him. ‘Yeah. Sure. I promised Alya I’d be back in good time to go out tonight, anyway.’

Going out. Was that something Adrien and Marinette would no longer do, just like they no longer went out in costume together? Was this the end of that era, too?

‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’ Carapace said.

Cat forced a grin he wasn’t feeling. ‘Same cat time, same cat channel.’ Then he extended his stick and leapt over the rooftops, until he made it back to his new favourite alleyway near the apartment and de-transformed.

He fed Plagg some cheese, his thoughts in disarray. ‘Hey, Plagg…do you…think I’ll have to give to give up being Cat Noir, when the baby comes?’

Plagg eyed him over a mouthful of cheese. ‘I was wondering when you’d realise that.’

Adrien’s heart sank. ‘Has there never been a miraculous holder with children?’

‘Nope. You met the Guardians, right? Bunch of celibate monks making soap and playing complicated boardgames? Holding a miraculous is a life of solitude. When past holders have partnered off, they’ve always given up their miraculous to do so. It’s the only way to get around the whole secrecy and lies part, too.’

‘Huh. Do you…think Marinette’s already worked this out?’

Plagg gave him a look.

‘Yeah, I thought so.’ Adrien sighed and headed for the apartment.

He found Marinette lounging on the sofa, crying at an old episode of ‘My Little Pony’. A plate was balanced on her belly, showcasing a half-massacred chocolate gateau.

Tikki hovered at her shoulder, her eyes drawn in worry. When she saw Adrien, she nodded at him and flew out of the room and down the hall.

He glanced into his jacket and gave Plagg a meaningful look. Plagg took the hint – he’d seen that look enough times to know what it meant – and followed Tikki.

Adrien sat down beside Marinette. ‘Are you okay?’

She stared at the screen, gasping out her words. ‘It’s just – horrible the way – everyone’s – been treating C-cupcake! Making comments about her – appearance, like she’s – getting f-fat, and – everyone just – touching her stomach when she didn’t – she didn’t – give them permission!’

He glanced at the TV. ‘…touching the…pony’s stomach?’

‘Okay, I – might not – might not be talking about M-misty anymore.’

‘Wasn’t it Cupcake?’

‘What – ever!’ She stared sullenly at the gateau, and all the crumbs spilled over her clothes and the sofa like a glitter bomb had gone off. ‘I don’t…I don’t remember eating this.’

He took the plate and placed it on the coffee table, then held her hand. ‘Are people touching your stomach?’

She nodded through tears. ‘They don’t even ask! The hands are just – there before I – have time to tell them to b-back off.’ She gestured at her stomach, which was surreal in its size. ‘That whole rule about – respecting people’s b-bodies and p-private space – that we’re taught in s-school? It just – goes out the w-window when you’re p-pregnant. I’m f-fair game. For that and – everyone talking about how – how – b-big I am. Look at Marinette, isn’t she b-big? Marinette, you’re huge! Are you carrying twins?’ Her eyes rounded with urgency. ‘Adrien, do you…do you think twins run in your family?’

‘Well, I…I think twins skip a generation….’

She slumped back against the sofa and exhaled loudly. ‘Thank god.’ The tears slowed and she got her breathing a little under control.

Then she sat up again, that urgency back on her face. ‘Wait. You and Felix were made identical…but Emilie and Amelie….’

He nodded. ‘That’s just it. With normal genetics, they should skip a generation, which suggests that…it’s possible, yeah. I have no idea how it works if the father is a sentimonster, though.’

‘Sentibeing,’ she corrected, like she always did, but the hazy look in her beautiful eyes told him he’d just given her a lot more than twins to think about.

The whole matter of DNA had been plaguing him ever since he’d found out about the baby. Yes, sentimonsters – sentibeings – were created with intention. Gabriel, and later Emilie, had wanted a real human boy, so Adrien was a real human boy, growing and changing like any other human – as was Felix.

But there were still differences – like the childhood memory blanks, and the whole matter of being under someone’s control. There was no escaping that there was magic mixed up in him, and it was anyone’s guess what that meant for his children.

My children….

He’d considered talking to the Guardians about it, but they wouldn’t have the answers. He and Felix were the first truly human sentibeings they knew of. They certainly wouldn’t know about sentibeings spawning offspring. He was definitely writing his own Grimoire, here.

He stood up. ‘I’m going to…make you some ginger tea.’

‘Ugh, ginger tea!’ She threw herself backwards against the sofa again. ‘If I never have ginger tea again in my life, I’ll die happy.’

‘But it helps with the sickness.’

‘I kn-now.’ She was crying again.

This wasn’t ‘just hormones’. Pregnant women got patronised too often. Marinette really was upset, and he would honour that.

He left for the kitchen, his mind flashing back to the week before, when they’d had the twenty-week scan and finally learned that the baby was indeed a boy. To the memory of little Hugo in fuzzy black and white. A living being sharing Marinette’s body, feeding off her like the wonderful little parasite he was. A tiny mystery tossing and turning in the womb, with no comprehension of the power he held – the power to overturn whole lives.

He returned a few minutes later with the tea, setting it on the table before sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her, pulling her to his side.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, the tears slower and her voice tired. ‘I know you read all those pregnancy books and have those apps to try to understand what I’m going through – and I really appreciate it. You couldn’t be more involved. But that’s just it…you couldn’t be more involved. You just can’t be. And none of what I’m going through is like it sounds in the books. They just…they can’t capture this.’

He rested his chin on the top of her head. ‘I believe you.’ He’d done what he could – bought her a full-length body pillow, studied massage techniques, brought home expensive skin creams – but none of it changed the fact that she was going through this and he wasn’t. All he could do was be there. And as helpless as he felt, he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t make this about him.

‘I don’t…I don’t really feel like a person anymore,’ she whispered. ‘More like a…a baby factory.’

He stroked her hair, hair that he’d always loved, especially when she wore it down, which she did more often these days.

‘It’s like my body is just doing things without my control. I don’t really matter, and everything is being done for the baby. I can’t stop how big I’m getting or all the horrible symptoms. I’m trapped in this body and the only way out of the situation is to go through labour and…and…I’m terrified, Adrien. What if I can’t do it?’

He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. ‘You can. First, because as you say, your body is going through the motions. It knows what to do. And you’ll have me there and all these professionals and you’ll…you’ll get through it, like every woman who gives birth does.’

‘…and second…?

‘Because you’re you. You’re Ladybug. You can do anything.’ He gave her shoulder a long squeeze.

She pressed in closer to him, close enough for him to feel the way she’d tensed. Like she had something to tell him but didn’t know how to say it. ‘I don’t…I don’t think I can be Ladybug anymore.’

He sighed. ‘Yeah. I realised that tonight, too. I can’t be Cat Noir anymore, either.’

She drew away just enough to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘You can.’

‘I can’t. I need to focus on you and Hugo. I won’t be another Gabriel who ignores his family for personal pursuits. I’m just…sad about saying goodbye to the kwamis.’

Plagg and Tikki usually spent most of their time tucked away together in other rooms as soon as Adrien and Marinette were alone together, just as they had both whisked themselves away this afternoon. The painful truth was that there was little room for the kwamis in their lives as it was. Adding a baby to the mix would be the final nail in the coffin.

She leaned back against him. ‘It’s a little like…growing out of an imaginary friend.’

‘Like that elephant thing in Inside Out.’

Marinette cried more, and Adrien felt like he might join her.

‘I’d even give up Guardianship, if I could,’ she said through quiet tears. ‘It’s probably not right to have anything to do with the miraculous when there’s a baby in the apartment. We’re putting him at risk by having anything to do with magic. But I can’t…I can’t do that to you. I can’t forget our history together. I can’t not know your story anymore.’

Her words stabbed at his heart. How could he ever repay her for those words? How much was she carrying for him? Fu and Marinette – the only ones in the world to have chosen him over all else.

She sat up, slipping out of his grasp and drying her eyes with the heels of her hands. ‘I should have never been both holder and Guardian anyway,’ she said in that tone she used when she was making up her mind to be strong. ‘Su-Han said that. Fu was the first, then me. It’s better if I’m only the Guardian. And as long as the butterfly isn’t loose…well, we have all the miraculous and no one left to fight. So, it’s fine…right?’

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to jinx things.

‘I’ll give all the miraculous back to the Guardians. They should hold the miracle box, anyway. It’s safer that way. Safer for our children.’

He smiled at her use of the plural. At the way that as much as she wasn’t enjoying this pregnancy, she remained committed to her old dreams. Nothing would hold her back, not even months of constant sickness and invasive colleagues.

People often described pregnant women as ‘glowing’ – but Marinette was positively radioactive.

He couldn’t help the grin stretching across his face, impossible to remove. He took her hand again. ‘I’m so proud of you. I honestly couldn’t be more in awe of you.’

‘Adrien –’

‘No, I mean it. I still so vividly remember the first time we faced off with Hawk Moth, and the way you stood up to him. You took my breath away. You were just…awesome. Standing up to him like that…which we now know was you standing up to my father in a way I never could. You were the most fearsome, wonderful, beautiful, inspiring vengeful goddess I had ever seen, and I knew in a heartbeat that you were capable of anything.’

He tilted her chin up to look at him. ‘Everything you’re going through right now…it’s just another transformation sequence…you know?’

She rewarded him with a small smile. Then the smile fell. ‘What if I never transform back? What if the baby comes and I’m forever this different thing in a different body that I can never make go back to what it used to be?’

‘That’s…probably what will happen. But no matter what costume you wear – Marinette, Ladybug, Mrs Agreste, pregnant Marinette, mother – you’re still the same person inside…and I have always loved that person. You’ll always be that crazy awesome girl I first fell in love with when we were fourteen. Nothing can ever change you, in my eyes.’

He kissed her – and that kiss turned into something else. He led her to their bedroom, where they took their time. It required some careful manoeuvring, these days, but that was okay. He locked his eyes on hers the whole way through. There was nothing more exciting than her face.

She had already changed. He could feel it and see it. She was becoming something new, and maybe he was too. Fatherhood would alter him irrevocably. They were both certain to discover new things about themselves, for better or for worse.

After, they lay on their sides, Marinette’s back spooned against his chest and his arm draped over her. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. ‘You’re allowed.’

He grinned and nestled his chin against the top of her head – when he felt a sudden movement under his hand. ‘Was that…?’

‘Yes.’

She’d felt the kicks for a while, now, but this was the first time Adrien had felt one. He waited, hardly daring to breathe, and another small kick came. That was him – their baby. Hugo.

‘It’s…it’s magic,’ he breathed.

She lifted his hand to her lips before replacing it on her stomach. There was another little kick.

He shivered – at the kiss and at the thought that he had never kicked any mother’s stomach. He’d never started life as a foetus. No one had ever tracked his development on an app or talked to him in the womb. He’d never been a mango. He’d never even been born.

‘I sometimes talk to him,’ Marinette murmured.

‘…to Hugo?’

‘Mm-hm. Sometimes out loud, but often in my mind, when I’m trying to sleep. I like to think he can hear me. Like we have a psychic connection or something, as long as we share a circulatory system.’

‘…what do you say to him?’

‘All kinds of things. Sometimes it’s just, Please stop moving and go to sleep so I can too.’

‘Does he listen?’

She laughed. ‘No.’

‘And what about the other times? What else do you say to him?’

‘I tell him he doesn’t need to be afraid of being born because he’s going to have the most wonderful life.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Oh, Adrien.’ She laughed again and patted his hand. ‘Because he’s going to have you as his father. He’s going to be so loved.’

As she said this, he felt yet another kick beneath his hand, as if Hugo had heard their conversation and was joining in – reassuring them that he understood.

‘You think love is all it takes?’ Adrien asked.

‘You make that sound like some small thing. Of course, love is what it takes.’

‘In that case…you shouldn’t doubt your ability to get through the rest of this pregnancy or push him out. I may not be able to go through all that physical stuff with you, but I am going to shower you with so much love that you won’t even notice any pain.’

‘Oh really?’ She turned awkwardly until she was on her other side, facing him.

‘Really,’ he said, and he cupped her cheek and leaned in to show her what he meant.

Chapter Text

Adrien had it all planned to the last detail.

First, he tracked down the owners of the building where he’d set up the candles on the rooftop as a teenager. There was a restaurant on the ground floor, with the upper floors leased out as offices, all managed by one owner who was easily persuaded, with a little money, to hire out the roof for a night’s use.

‘Very romantic,’ the man said. ‘But don’t tell too many people, or you’ll shame the rest of us.’ He gave a little wink, and Adrien suppressed a laugh.

Then he talked to Sabine, who readily agreed to take all three children for the full weekend. ‘It’s important to have time to yourselves and remember who you are together without the children,’ she said. ‘Especially on your anniversary. Tom and I always made a point of going out without Marinette on our anniversary.’

These were reassuring words, because Tom and Sabine had been together about a thousand years and were his ultimate ‘ship’.

Next, he had a formal invitation drawn up on creamy card, with gold leaf lettering, hand-delivered to Marinette at her office, while he waited in agony for her response.

At last, his phone beeped.

Marinette: An invitation?? I don’t recognise the address I’m supposed to meet you at.

Adrien: Just be there.

He grinned. Of course she wouldn’t recognise it. Who paid attention to addresses when travelling by stick and yo-yo? But she would remember it when she was up there. The rooftops had once been their own private landscape.

Finally, he ordered roses – from a florist rather than plundered from his mother’s memorial – and candles, with his own money rather than the credit card Gabriel had granted him in lieu of love. Even after all these years, this simple act felt like one of the most adult things he’d ever done.

In the rare moments when he managed to capture some of Marinette’s attention at home, she pressed him for details. ‘I wonder what you’re up to,’ she said.

‘Hmm, me too!’ he replied.

And sometimes there were texts from her.

Marinette: What are you up to, Mr Agreste?

Adrien: I’m eager to find out – aren’t you??

By the time the weekend arrived, he was jumping out of his skin with anticipation. He’d done his thing of imagining everything in vivid detail, and now had to talk himself down so he wouldn’t be disappointed if it didn’t all go exactly as he’d planned.

‘Stay in the moment,’ he told his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Then he gave himself a smile of encouragement, took a deep breath, and went to the living room, where Hugo had gathered the twins and their overnight bags.

‘Very dapper,’ Hugo said.

‘Thank you.’ He’d put on one of his best suits, something he hadn’t worn since his modelling days. To his great relief, it still fit. He might have broken down on the floor if it had been too snug.

He dropped off the kids with their grandparents, then headed over to the building to set things up. The manager offered to help, but he wanted to do it himself, like he’d done all those years before.

‘But there are so many candles!’ the manager said.

‘I’m good,’ said Adrien.

He tucked away her anniversary gift in a safe spot, then headed downstairs, to the meeting point outside the stairwell entrance. He was early, so he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through social media posts until he’d exhausted the supply. Then he started up a word game. Between games, he looked around, checking for Marinette, but she wasn’t there yet.

After he’d got through five rounds of the game, he checked the time and….

Okay, no big deal. So she was fifteen minutes late. That wasn’t too bad…was it? It wasn’t like an hour.

Marinette would be here. She knew how important this was. She probably just got held up. Maybe there was a problem with the trains and she…ran out of battery and couldn’t let him know. He’d give her more time.

He started up another game – but then one more game turned into two, and then three – and then he rang her number.

‘You have reached the voicemail of Marinette Agreste. I’m not available right now, but please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you.’

There was a long beep, like the sound of his own heart flatlining. ‘Marinette Agreste, this is Adrien Agreste, your husband, ringing you live from the address you were supposed to meet me at an hour ago, to celebrate our anniversary. You know my number.’

He hung up, feeling bitter. Almost adolescently bitter.

A new thought came to him. What if she was hurt? Maybe he should start ringing hospitals. Or contact the Order of the Guardians and –

His phone beeped.

Marinette: Adrien, I am sooooooooo sorry!!!! I’ve got held up here in a BIG way. I don’t think I’ll be home for hours. I really, really, REALLY wouldn’t do this to you if there were any way out of it, but there’s been a major emergency and if I leave, I’ll just look unprofessional and probably never work in the industry again! I PROMISE I WILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU. The kids are gone all weekend, right? We’ll do something tomorrow – I SWEAR ON MY LIFE. Love you!!!!!!!!

He stared despondently at the message, his entire body numb. She had no idea he’d hired the rooftop for one night only. No idea he’d just installed almost an entire rose garden on that rooftop, not to mention several hundred candles and lit them all one by one.

No idea that history had just repeated itself.

Did she even care?

He gazed up and down the street – at pedestrians passing by with no idea that the man on the corner was dying inside. He couldn’t bear the sight of them, and pushed into the building, hurrying up six floors and exiting at the roof, where he stared at the set-up, the most intense déjà vu washing over him like saltwater in a wound.

He sang softly to no one. ‘Little kitty on a roof…all alone without his lady….’ It hurt that the song still had resonance.

With no desire to add lawsuit-for-burning-down-a-building to the night’s failures, he blew out each candle, one by one, until he was alone in the growing darkness, leaning on the rooftop, surveying a city that had once been his playground. More than ever, he missed Plagg. Missed him like an arm that had been amputated.

At least Plagg never stood him up.

She cares. There was just an emergency. A…fashion emergency.

But does she realise there’s an emergency right here, with me? Does she see our marriage emergency? Aren’t we more important than TV costumes?

It was more than some costumes. It was her whole career, her personal dreams. He knew that. But he wanted to wallow for a bit until he’d had his fill of self-pity. Then he’d feel better. He’d think more logically.

He headed back down the stairs, passing someone from the restaurant. ‘You’re not using the roof, like you planned?’ she asked.

He shook his head and exited the building, heading for who knew where.

After some time wandering the neighbourhood like a stray alley cat, he founded himself sitting at a bar drinking mojitos as if he were at a party. A hen do, maybe. No way was he the loneliest, saddest, most unloved man in Paris.

Although he was well-educated in fine wines, he’d never been a big drinker. But he liked limes. And mint. Maybe he’d brew some mint tea from his own plant, when he got home later.

He stared vacantly at the fridge of soft drinks behind the bar, largely unaware of his surroundings or other customers.

Twenty-three years…and she stood me up.

He plucked out an ice cube and gripped it with his teeth, pressing down until there was a satisfying crunch.

He sensed more than saw someone take up a seat too close beside him, causing him to glance up. When he saw who it was, he drew backwards and nearly fell off his stool.

‘Lila,’ he choked out over his ice cube.

‘It is incredible how we keep running into each other,’ she gushed, wearing that permanent smile on her face that he didn’t trust an inch.

‘Yeah. Incredible.’ He looked back at the fridge.

‘Hey, come here – I want to take a selfie. I have, like, no photos with any of my friends, from school.’

Before he could object to being called a friend, she had an arm around him and was pulling him in close to her. She held out her phone. ‘Say ouistiti!’

He gave a wan smile – then jumped when she kissed him wetly on the cheek.

She laughed when he wiped her from his face. ‘Mojitos! What are we celebrating?’

It was tempting to say my wedding anniversary, just to see how far her jaw would drop. ‘I like limes.’

She blinked, then called over the bartender and ordered something complicated with a pretentious name.

He whistled his ‘little kitty’ song over his glass, then drank down more, sensing her watching him.

‘Oh no,’ she said, her tone syrupy with sympathy that he suspected was not sincere. ‘Are you here because…you’re sad? And here I am, asking what we’re celebrating! I’m so sorry, Adrien.’

He glanced sideways at her, then back at the fridge. He would not be taken in by her…even if it was nice to hear someone, anyone, apologise to him in this moment. ‘It’s okay, Lila.’

‘It’s not. What am I doing? You came here to drink away your sorrows, didn’t you, Adrien? I should have recognised a poor, pathetic soul as soon as I saw you.’

He’d been sucking on another ice cube, but his mouth froze at her words. Should he be angry? Offended?

No. I really am pathetic.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she pressed.

‘Not really.’

‘Because people tell me I’m a really good listener.’

‘Is that so.’ He stroked one of the velvety mint leaves.

‘Oh yes. Everyone, really! A really, really good listener. And….’ She lay a hand on his arm, drawing his gaze. ‘We’re friends…aren’t we?’

He was forced to take in the sight of her. Skimpy did not begin to describe the so-called dress she was half-wearing. Where there happened to be fabric, it was so tight that it may as well have been more skin. For being such a storyteller, Lila didn’t leave much to imagination.

‘Sure. We’re friends,’ he said, his tone flat.

‘Well, friends are there for each other. You can tell me anything.’

He dragged his eyes away and refocused on his drink, knocking back the rest until there was only ice. He shook it around in the glass, appreciating the sound.

‘Let me buy you another drink,’ she offered.

‘No, that’s –’

But she was already getting the attention of the bartender again, largely by hanging out over the bar, and ordering him the same complicated drink she’d ordered for herself. He’d never heard of it before. It was suspicious. It was likely to be poison, simply by being associated with her.

She leaned on her arms and gave him a mournful look. ‘Now then. Let me guess. Marital problems?’

‘No,’ he said too quickly.

‘Did she stand you up or something?’

His brow lifted. How the hell had she worked that out?

‘It’s just something in your eyes,’ she answered his silent question. ‘And your pose. And the fact that you’re here at all, when you have three kids at home and I know you aren’t the heavy drinking type.’

‘You don’t know that. For all you know, I come in here and get wasted every weekend.’

She smiled. ‘On mojitos? Adrien. Please. This is me you’re talking to. We go way back. You can’t fool me. So why don’t you talk about it. It’ll make you feel better.’

He didn’t want to. So, he was amazed when words started falling out of his mouth. ‘It’s our anniversary.’

She gave a slow nod. ‘But she’s not here.’

‘She’s working. She has a really high-pressure job. She wanted to meet me but….’

Another nod. ‘That’s a good excuse.’

‘It’s not an excuse,’ he spat out at her. His head felt heavy.

She put up her hands in surrender. ‘Sorry. It’s just…if you were my husband, I would value every moment with you. I would never take you for granted, and I certainly wouldn’t let a thing like work come before our anniversary of all days.’ Words he wanted to hear, but from the wrong woman.

‘Yeah. Well. It’s more complicated than that. You don’t know because you’re not married and you don’t have children. You don’t understand all the million and one obligations Marinette has.’

‘That’s true.’ Lila leaned forward so her breasts pushed together, deepening her cleavage. She was very obviously not wearing a bra. ‘I guess that’s why I’m here tonight. I’m lonely too. Just…like…you.’

He swallowed at the invitation in her voice and looked away, just in time for the bartender to hand him his new drink. It was an unusual colour and smelled stronger than anything he would normally have. The idea of poison still hung in his mind.

She leaned back a little. ‘All I’m saying is that to be married so long…it’s incredible. I’m truly in awe of you. But everyone knows you have to work at a marriage, to keep the spice after all those years. Is Marinette prioritising that? Or just you?’

She knew the answer, or she wouldn’t be talking this way. So, he said nothing.

‘I guess in all these years she hasn’t really changed much, has she.’

Despite himself, Adrien asked, ‘What…what do you mean?’

‘Well. She was always busy with something, wasn’t she. Always working on some project, too busy for anyone. She never had time to be friends with me, for instance.’

‘That’s not exactly what –’

‘Always flitting from one project to another, one person to another, never having any real time for anyone. I mean…when I think of when we were in school…the way she jumped from that Luka to you….’

How the hell did she even know about Marinette’s brief relationship with Luka? ‘You’re distorting things. The Luka thing was…complicated. As for the rest…that was only because she was trying to devote herself to so many people. She spread herself thin because she cared. Not because she didn’t.’

‘If you say so.’ Lila shrugged. ‘I mean, from what I hear from Alya….’

Damn her for reeling him in like this. ‘…what have you heard from Alya?’

Another shrug, like she and Hugo had studied body language in the same school. ‘Nothing much. Just that…she misses her best friend and feels like Marinette went off and had kids and basically abandoned her.’

Adrien blinked. ‘But Alya and Nino are the ones who are always too busy for us. They’re always going out somewhere.’

Lila gave him a look like he should know better. ‘You do realise they’ve been trying to have kids for like, ever…right? They’ve been having appointments with a fertility clinic for two years.’

‘…they…what? Nino’s never mentioned this to me.’

‘I’m not surprised. How can you understand what they’ve been going through? Is Nino really supposed to listen to you talk about how difficult your life is, with these children he wishes he had? Are you that oblivious?’

Her words were harsh, but he didn’t mind. Had Nino really been feeling this way all this time? And Alya? Did Marinette know?

He slumped on his stool and picked up the possibly toxic drink. It tasted just as bad as he’d anticipated, but he drank more – and more – until he pushed it away and folded his arms on the bar, thinking of all the lives people led and how one got what the other wanted and no one talked about it. Alya and Nino with the holidays and the date nights and the selfies, but no kids. Adrien and Marinette with the children but no time alone together.

But that didn’t mean there was anything wrong with either scenario. What Alya and Nino had…Adrien admired them passionately. And the family Adrien and Marinette had….

His heart hurt.

So did his head. His vision was doubling, and he blinked several times to try to bring it back into focus. The last thing he needed was two Lila Rossis.

He got up too quickly from the bar and had to catch himself on the stool. ‘You know what? I…thank you. I think you just helped me get some…much-needed clarity.’ He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

‘It’s what I’m here for.’ She leaned one arm against the bar. ‘Where do you think you’re going, though?’

‘…home?’

Her mouth curved into a slow smile, her lips blood-red in the dim lighting of the bar. ‘I was thinking maybe I could help you in…other ways, too.’

Maybe it was the alcohol, but his mind was not allowing him to process her meaning.

She stood up, drawing near and draping her arms around his neck. ‘I thought maybe you were looking for company, tonight.’

Something clicked in his brain, at last. ‘Oh. Wow. Okay, no.’ He removed her arms from his neck – with some difficulty because she was like a damn boa constrictor and his head was swimming from whatever she’d ordered for him.

For a moment, her mask fell and she was the viper he’d always taken her to be. ‘Marinette doesn’t have time for you. She’ll never be what you want her to be.’

‘I don’t want her to be anything.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘All men have fantasies.’

‘Every single one of mine has only ever been of her.’

Lila’s stare hardened. ‘You’re going to go back to your sad, lonely apartment with your sad lonely life, when you could have me?’

‘Looks like it.’

She pursed her lips, her face a threat – then smoothed out her features, as if the previous two minutes had never happened. ‘I’m so sorry, Adrien.’ She touched her chest in that way of hers, to draw attention to her breasts. ‘I don’t know what just came over me. I guess I’ve just been feeling so lonely since coming back to Paris. What you and Marinette have – and Alya and Nino…! You’re all so loved-up while I….’ She shook her head, her eyes shining with….

Were those real tears? Or was she that good at acting?

‘Don’t mind me, Adrien. Please, just…go home, okay?’

‘O…kay.’

‘Just…let’s have a quick hug and forget all of this, yeah?’ She held out her arms to him.

Before she could pull him in, he stumbled out of the bar without another word.

The walk back home was as blurry as the last hour was already becoming. Whatever had been in that drink Lila had ordered him was harder than he was used to, and he was having horrible visions of himself passing out on the street like some kind of drunkard and having to be hauled away by the police. What a way to end their anniversary that would be.

At the apartment, he couldn’t find his keys.

Maybe Lila took them.

Maybe she’ll break in tonight and….

No, they were just in his other pocket.

He let himself in and slammed the door behind him, breathless, like a child hoping to keep the monsters out.

To clear the toxins in his body, he made himself some green tea. Then he plopped down on the sofa, nursing his cup, his head hazy.

He didn’t remember drinking the tea, but he must have because the cup was suddenly empty. He set it on the table and stretched out on the sofa, exhaustion taking him.

This wasn’t how he’d expected to conclude the night. He’d cleared the space for them, for the two of them.

‘I know,’ Marinette murmured. She had to be a dream because there was no way she could be here. She hadn’t prioritised him. She never did.

‘I found that old rooftop and…. I thought this time it would be different, but you stood me up again.’

‘You….’ There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘I’m so sorry, Adrien. I wanted to be there but work….’

‘Does it matter more than me?’

‘What? No! Why would you think that? Adrien, I’m…god, I don’t even have the words for how sorry I am for making you feel that way. Adrien, I love you. You matter more to me than anything – you and the kids, I swear. Please, let’s…let’s finish the night together.’

He felt her hand on his arm, but he drew into himself, curling up like a small child. ‘Tired,’ he made out, his eyelids too heavy to stay open.

A moment later, a blanket went over him, and he felt her hands tucking it in around him.

‘Let me make this up to you,’ she pleaded. ‘We could do something tomorrow.’

Maybe he replied. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe she was there. Maybe she wasn’t. All he knew for certain later was that he fell unconscious at that moment.

Chapter Text

Adrien sat on the floor surrounded by pieces of a flat pack crib, the instructions spread over his lap. He swallowed and looked up, staring around the room.

The nursery.

Hugo’s bedroom.

The pregnancy had swallowed up more of his time and focus than he’d expected it to. There were books to read and classes to attend and long moments of self-reflection. An alarming number of months had passed before he’d finally got round to tackling this room.

For the walls, he’d chosen a cheerful blue reminiscent of the sea down on the southern coast – not because Hugo was a boy but because the colour reminded him of Marinette’s eyes and Marinette’s name and so brought him peace. Maybe it would bring their son peace, too.

They’d chosen curtains and bedding and accessories together, themed in stars and moons to remember all those nights when they’d once leapt across Paris together. Nights that now seemed to be receding further and further into the past.

‘I still say you should’ve just ordered the furniture ready-made,’ Plagg put in while he watched Adrien fight off another wave of panic.

Adrien pushed aside the fear and the instructions. He shook out the cramp his hand, then picked up the screwdriver again. ‘Where’s the fun in that? Besides, Marinette doesn’t get to have the baby delivered ready-made. I can at least build a crib.

And the dresser.

And the bookcase.

And the toy cupboard.

He’d done it all himself. He already had one up on Gabriel. That was enough to make him keep going.

A cry from their bedroom across the hall made the screwdriver slip, and he gashed the side of his thumb. He let out a yelp and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Okay, who’s the baby, here?

‘You alright?’ he called across the hall.

‘I…I think so, but…Adrien….’

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Plagg said. ‘You’d better go to her. I’ll be in the kitchen.’

Adrien rolled his eyes, though his heart had grown wings and was fluttering in his heart. Marinette had been on maternity leave a couple weeks now and was bigger than he thought it was possible to be. And when he reached the bedroom, he found her standing beside the bed, staring at the carpet, where a wet stain was spreading.

‘Adrien, I think….’

‘Right. Right, right, right.’ This was more vivid than he’d imagined when he’d read all those books and attended those birthing classes with her. Maybe it should have happened sooner, but it only now hit him that he was only twenty-three and surely that was too young for this.

Although…in the past, he might have gone through this a lot younger.

Some people still did.

‘Right,’ he said again. He ran his hands over his hair. ‘Right.’

‘I think I should call the midwife. Can you get me my phone, please? I left it on the sofa. God, it just keeps gushing out!’

Words he never expected to hear.

‘Please just get me my phone.’

‘Right.’ He blinked himself into action and hurried from the room, focusing on his footsteps – counting them to keep calm. He retrieved her phone and brought it back to her, listening in disbelief while she made the call.

Then she dropped the phone on the bed. ‘I need to let them know when the contractions begin, which should be within twenty-four hours…unless there’s a problem.’

‘…a problem?’ He didn’t remember reading about any problems of that kind. Weren’t the contractions what made the waters break? How had he got that wrong? Had he understood anything he’d read? ‘What…what do we do now?’

She gave him a grim smile and sat on the bed, soaking it through. ‘I guess we just…wait.’

The contractions began late the following morning, once an hour at first, then gradually closer together. Marinette had opted for a home birth, especially as they lived quite near to a hospital, in case of an emergency. While they waited for the contractions to speed up, Adrien wrestled with blowing up an indoor birthing pool with unsteady fingers. But nerves aside, it was good to do this work. It was good to feel useful. When he finished, he no longer knew what to do with himself.

Two midwives arrived and coached Marinette through rocking on a birthing ball to encourage labour. Adrien watched at her side. All the male Guardians could have learned a thing or two from her about meditating. She had closed her eyes and gained a look of such exquisite concentration that it was clear she was sinking into some place deep inside herself where she could ride out the pain, before her eyes opened and she returned to the room with them.

There was something spiritual about the moment. Helpless, he wanted to ask what epiphanies she’d brought back from that otherplace she’d found within.

When the contractions seemed to come almost incessantly, the midwives asked him to help her step into the pool. She leaned on him, and he felt useful again. The midwives were clearly experienced in dealing with fathers, because they kept giving him jobs, like adding more warm water to the pool when it started to cool down, to keep Marinette comfortable. He tried to focus on this instead of her screaming.

It just didn’t seem possible for anyone to scream that much without dying. But it wasn’t consistent. It was controlled, as if she was using the screaming as another way of breathing through the pain. It was so damned primal that he was forced to remember that no matter how much technology and modern science set humans apart, we were all still animals.

Take away all the creature comforts that enable us to be at the top of the food chain, and we’re so…fragile.

Well, he was, anyway. Marinette sure didn’t seem it. He’d always known she was strong, but this was on another level. As terrified and frozen as he felt, he was also in awe. Not just of her, but of every woman who had ever done this thing, all nine long months of it, culminating in this final act.

The screaming intensified when the crowning began. ‘This will sting,’ one of the midwives said.

Just how much of an understatement was that? Had these midwives gone through this themselves? Adrien was possibly the only one in the room who had not and would not ever experience this ritual. Marinette was doing something, going through a thing, he could never hope to understand.

Then, twenty long hours after the contractions had first begun, there was a baby, covered in white film and blood, crying as he squinted in the dimmed light of the living room.

One midwife went into the kitchen to fill out paperwork while the other placed the baby on Marinette’s chest and invited Adrien to look at him. At first, Adrien couldn’t make his limbs work. Then he moved, as if in a dream, and looked at the baby. Hugo. Not just a fuzzy image on a screen anymore, but real. A new person brought into the world. Brought into their world, as if by magic.

‘We made him,’ Marinette whispered.

All the words were gone from Adrien’s mind and throat. The air was thick with the smell of iron, Marinette’s blood. But she seemed okay. The baby seemed okay. Was he okay? Was he in shock? Was this normal?

‘Adrien.’ Marinette nudged him with her head. ‘Are you okay?’

He nodded, numb.

‘You’re crying.’

Was he?

‘Would you like to cut the cord?’ The midwife handed him a pair of scissors.

He took them unsteadily and Marinette covered his hand with hers, helping him. A moment later, he saw why it was so important to make that cut, when Hugo was handed hastily over to him because Marinette was doubling over in the water again, to deliver the placenta. He hadn’t appreciated this would be so much like labour a second time.

What would it be like to deliver twins? Or triplets? He shuddered, and he wasn’t even the one having the baby.

The placenta was strangely octopus-like. The midwife dumped it into a bucket while Marinette flopped backwards in the pool, leaning against the rim, looking white and utterly depleted of energy.

The midwife held her arms out for Hugo. ‘How about I take him and clean him up, and you help your wife get washed up? Do you have any nappies or clothes for him?’

Adrien blinked at her. Words finally came to him. Practical things he could deal with. At last. ‘In the nursery. It’s the second door on the right, down the hall.’

There was a kind of pain when she took Hugo, an immediate loss. How was it possible to miss someone who’d only been alive for a minute?

He helped Marinette out of the tub, wrapping her in one of a pile of towels they had on standby and letting her dry her feet on another that lay on the floor like a rug. Then he led her down the hall and into the main bathroom, where he closed the door, helping her into the tub.

He washed her, running the sponge softly and slowly over her skin, and gently massaging the shampoo into her hair, which was thick with sweat. She let out little moans that reassured him he was doing something right.

‘You were phenomenal,’ he told her. ‘Just like I knew you would be.’

She leaned back into his hands, probably too tired to respond. Blood pooled in the tub. And pieces of…things. He’d read about that. The ‘afterbirth’, people called it. How euphemistic. Apparently, she would bleed for many weeks to come.

When she was clean, he wrapped his arms around her, soaking himself, and hugged her tightly. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

He helped her out and wrapped her in a towel, then headed to their bedroom to fetch her some fresh clothes. When he returned, he looked away to give her some privacy as she fumbled with pads and dressed herself.

Then he held her hand as they headed back out to the living room. The midwives had cleaned up the room, other than the pool, which Adrien would need to drain with a pump later.

Hugo was now as clean as Marinette and fully dressed in a one-piece sleepsuit with a little hat.

‘What’s his name?’ the notetaker asked.

‘Hugo Julien Agreste,’ Adrien answered.

She nodded and rattled off information about things like how to register for a formal birth certificate in the coming weeks, which he only half took in. He took the offered pieces of paper. He’d work it all out later. He was too distracted by his son.

‘Is he asleep?’ Adrien asked.

‘Yes,’ the one holding him said. ‘Babies often do that when they’re first born. Coming into the world is exhausting for them, too.’

The other one started asking Marinette questions, taking her blood pressure, that sort of thing.

‘I’m starving,’ Marinette announced. ‘It’s like after having him come out of me…there’s this giant hole in me now, and I need to fill it…with as much food as I can get.’

‘What do you want?’ Adrien asked.

‘Is it too early for an extra-large pizza?’

It was ten in the morning, but Adrien shook his head. ‘It’s never too early. I’ll just have to do some searching for somewhere that’s open. Leave it to me.’

‘My own superhero.’ She winked, then eased herself onto the sofa, where she leaned back, closing her eyes and letting her exhaustion take her.

The pizza was devoured within minutes, despite how big it was. Adrien had also brought her pastries, which disappeared swiftly. Hugo woke up, hungry himself, and the midwives helped Marinette learn how to feed him.

When they were satisfied that mother and baby were both well, they left, promising to send someone round the next day to check on them again.

Then it was just the three of them. Their family. They huddled together on their bed, staring down at Hugo where he lay in a basket on the floor. It was incredible how fascinating it could be to watch someone sleep.

Plagg and Tikki finally flew out from where they’d been hiding since the business had begun.

Plagg hung over Hugo with a critical expression. ‘So, that’s your baby, huh.’

‘He’s so beautiful!’ Tikki gushed.

‘Like his mother,’ Adrien said. Not to win points. It was just true.

‘And like you,’ Marinette said. ‘Did you see his eyes?’

He had. They were the same green as his own, taken from Emilie. Somehow, despite being magically made, he could pass on those genes as if he’d been born the same way Hugo was.

‘It’s like the Wish,’ Adrien murmured.

‘…what?’

He gestured at their new son. ‘Our lives before this…they’re over. Now there’s this new life and…we unified, and we destroyed one reality and made a new one. Like the Wish.’

‘Adrien….’

He glanced at her. ‘Too corny?’

‘No, it’s…it’s perfect. Just like you.’

He laughed softly. ‘I never want to be called perfect again, thanks.’ He wrapped an arm around her and noticed her eyes were shining. ‘It’s overwhelming, isn’t it.’

She nodded.

Hugo gave a little shiver in his basket, squirmed and scrunched up his face. He started fussing and making little whiny noises.

‘May I…?’ said Adrien. Marinette nodded, and he reached down to pick up his son. He was so small and light that it was terrifying. It felt like he could break him with the slightest wrong movement. He held him against his chest, relishing the feel of him, so warm and soft and there.

Plagg hovered next to him. ‘I’ve always been struck by how weak and small human babies are. If he were a deer, he’d be walking by now.’

Hugo wriggled in Adrien’s arms, his mouth opening and closing and his head searching. He buried his face into his chest, and Adrien laughed. ‘Yeah, I’m not sure I have what you’re looking for.’ He handed him carefully over to Marinette, who positioned him and began feeding him.

Watching them, a sense of tremendous peace settled in Adrien’s heart. ‘I can’t believe how worried I was about this. Like everything we had would just fly out the window the instant he was born. But instead, I…I feel like we have so much more.’

She smiled at him, though it was a sad smile. She looked askance at Tikki, who shared a sorrowful look with Plagg, and Adrien knew what she meant.

‘It is flying out the window,’ he said in a dull voice. ‘It’s time to say goodbye, isn’t it.’

Tikki turned her mournful expression on him. ‘Like you said…it’s the end of one reality….’

Yes. He’d said that, hadn’t he.

She flew to Marinette and nuzzled her cheek. ‘You’ve been the best Ladybug I could have ever asked for, Marinette. You’re more than Ladybug. You’re my friend. And Adrien.’ She turned to him, catching him off guard. ‘You’ve been the best Cat Noir there’s ever been.’

‘That’s right,’ said Plagg, his voice thick with surprising emotion. ‘In all my millennia, never have I met a finer Cat Noir than you.’

Adrien blinked away the beginnings of tears. ‘So, now do we…?’ He was choking on his own words.

‘When Hugo’s finished feeding,’ Marinette said. ‘We’ll do it then.’

Somehow this just made it worse. The waiting for the inevitable – wracking his brain for some way out of this, some way to change things. The minutes stretched out like hours, but when Hugo pulled away from Marinette’s breast, turning his head away as if saying, ‘Enough! Be gone!’ it was too soon.

She put him over her shoulder and patted his back until he burped, looking like she’d been doing this kind of thing all her life. Even without the miraculous, she would forever be Ladybug.

Then she was settling Hugo into his basket again, her jaw set in that way she had when she was unhappy about something but she would do it anyway.

‘I hate this,’ she said. ‘But perhaps it’s…perhaps it’s best to get it over with.’ She shared a long look with her kwami, who finally gave one slow nod. ‘Goodbye, Tikki.’

In a rush, maybe before she could think twice, she removed her earrings and cradled them in her palm, Tikki now gone.

Adrien stared down at his right ring finger, at the ring that had been such a part of his life for so many years. It had transformed him, not simply into a superhero but into his own person. How could he let this go?

‘Adrien.’

He swallowed down tears. ‘Do we really have to do this?’

She closed her hand over his. ‘Yes. Our obligations have changed. I’m not the only guardian anymore, you know. Now you’re one too.’ She looked down at their son, who made a soft dreamy noise that was absolutely heartbreaking in its vulnerability.

‘A…guardian.’ A new kind of guardian, and a new kind of hero. A new identity. No longer would he be Cat Noir, but no longer would he simply be Adrien Agreste either. Now he had new guises, new names – husband, father.

He looked up at Plagg, who nodded once at him with large sad green eyes. ‘I’ll miss you, Plagg.’

‘You’ll never forget me, Adrien.’

‘I won’t. You…you’re part of me.’ Yes. Destruction was part of him, and that could sometimes be good. In this moment, he was the annihilator of the past. And for his son, he would be the annihilator of bad dreams, of fear, of loneliness, of weakness, of danger. He would be protector, defender, just as he had once been for the city.

He removed his ring, and Plagg was whisked back in. He handed the ring to Marinette before he could put it back on.

‘I’ll contact Su-Han and have him take the miraculous back to the Order of the Guardians,’ she said. ‘Even if I’m the Guardian…with all of them around, and with no more threats to Paris…I think it may just be an empty title. I hope so, anyway….’

‘And if anything happens to them? Or to the miracle box?’

She gave a small shrug. ‘I…I don’t know. It’s a new world, like you said. The rules have changed. From here on out…I guess anything goes.’

Chapter Text

When Adrien woke the next morning, he wasn’t sure what hurt worse – the hangover from that drink Lila had bought him, or the glass of cold water dumped over his head, hauling him back into consciousness.

He shrieked and rolled off the sofa, slamming onto the floor. His whole body ached, his face stung with cold, and water dripped from his hair and clothes. He squinted in the light at the raging goddess pacing lengths up and down the living room.

‘I can’t believe I was here feeling guilty about missing last night, and you…!’

‘Whoa, whoa!’ He pulled himself up and sat on the sofa, steadying himself because the room was spinning and the lights were way too bright. ‘Slow down. What did I do?’

Marinette halted mid-step and turned a laser glare on him that he feared might truly burn him to ashes where he sat. ‘What did you do?’ She laughed without humour. ‘I suppose you’re going to use the alcohol as an excuse. Tell me you don’t remember a thing and of course there’s nothing between the two of you!’

‘I…what? The two of who?’

‘The least you could do is be honest with me, Adrien. After all these years together, I cannot believe you’re playing dumb here. You know damn well what you did. On our anniversary, of all nights! Drunk. Doesn’t. Excuse it.’

He drew back as far as he could, wishing he could bury himself in the sofa, and maybe into the wall, and maybe go straight through the ground and come out in some other country. He’d never heard her speak to him – to anyone – so coldly.

‘Marinette, I honestly do not have the slightest idea what you could be talking about. Yesterday, you stood me up. I waited and waited, and even left you that voicemail, but you didn’t show up. I went and had a drink, yes, and….’ He trailed off, a terrible thought filling his mind.

‘And what?’ Her fists were on her hips. The look on her face said she already knew the rest of his story.

‘I…I ran into Lila. She came up to me and started talking to me and…and….’

‘And?’

‘And she made a move on me, okay? But I turned her down and I left.’

There was a flicker in her eyes, like she was considering that he might be telling the truth. Then her expression hardened again. ‘Really. That’s all that happened.’

‘Yes! What else would happen?’ He was starting to feel angry, now. Was she really accusing him of what he thought she was? Did she trust him that little?

‘I know you’ve been talking with her behind my back for a while,’ she blurted. ‘Alya told me.’

His instincts had been right. Lila was definitely a viper. ‘It’s not how it sounds.’

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘So, you admit it.’

‘Isn’t that…what you wanted?’

‘No!’ she shouted, then she gripped her head. ‘I came home last night as soon as I could – to be with you – to make it up to you.’

‘You…you did?’ So he hadn’t dreamed that.

‘I felt so terrible seeing you that way. You never drink like that. I thought we could spend today together, but now…I don’t know how I can ever look you in the eyes again.’ She whispered this in a way that broke his heart.

He staggered to his feet. ‘Marinette, you have to believe me. There’s nothing going. I only didn’t tell you about Lila because she’s so annoying and…kind of a stalker. You have so much else going on, I didn’t want to bother and upset you. I get that I made a mistake. I should have told you right away, but…please. You have to believe me.’ He reached for her, but she pulled her hand away and took a step back.

‘I don’t have to believe anything,’ she said, though her voice was shaky. ‘I…I need some air.’

He stood back and gave a small nod. ‘Okay. Okay, yeah. You need your space, I get it. But you’ll…you’ll be back…right?’

She pressed her eyes closed and let out a long breath. When her eyes flashed open again, tears spilled down her cheeks and she turned for the door.

He was too stunned to stop her or demand an answer to his plea. When he heard the front door close, he sank slowly back onto the sofa.

What the fuck had happened?

He pulled out his phone and found a message.

Nino: What the hell is going on with that photo, dude!?!?!?

Photo?

His chest tightened as a memory jogged. There was a social media notification waiting for him and he forced himself to click it. Lila Rossi had tagged him in a photograph. He looked slightly tipsy, pulled into her arm with her lips pressed hard against his cheek.

The caption read: Another UNBELIEVABLE night with the fabulously sexy Adrien Agreste. #yummy #cantgetenough

It was hard to say how long he stared at that caption – at that photo – at that caption again – before he hurled his phone on the sofa. There was a horrible growling scream. A moment later, he realised it was coming from his own throat.

He stood panting, his fists clenched at his sides, and forced his eyes to close, his breathing to slow down.

I can annihilate my anger. Annihilate my fear. Annihilate my pain.

He repeated these words over and over in his head until some sense returned. Then he opened his eyes and slowly picked up the phone again.

With unsteady fingers, he texted Marinette first.

Adrien: You KNOW what Lila’s like. She set this up. I swear she snapped that picture before I could pull away. I didn’t want it. I didn’t talk to her for long. She came onto me when I said I was leaving, and I pushed her away. I would NEVER cheat on you, Marinette. NEVER!!!

Then Nino.

Adrien: If you value anything in your life, get the hell away from Lila. She’s everything Marinette has ever said she is and MORE. I DID NOT SPEND THE NIGHT WITH THAT SNAKE.

He wanted to reply to Lila’s photo, but she’d switched off the comment feature. Convenient. The only way he could call her a lying twisted psycho bitch was if he sent her a private message – and he was not falling into that trap. The photo and caption would remain online. Unless he felt like going to the trouble of some kind of lawsuit to take it all down. Which he could afford, but….

A message came through.

Sabine: Let us know what time you’ll be collecting the kids. Hope you’ve had a good anniversary!

He groaned. How was he supposed to face the in-laws after what had just gone down? Not that he’d really done anything wrong – other than stupidly not talk about things he really should have talked about sooner. But how could he lie and say what a great time they’d had? Yes, thank you so much for taking the kids so we could have some time to ourselves.

Besides, knowing Tom and Sabine, they’d see right through his story, anyway. They were shrewd and…he was transparent.

Fuck.

There was no getting around it.

But first – a shower. Just seeing that photograph had made him feel unclean all over again.

An hour later, he was cleaner, smelled better, and he’d shaved. He put on a shirt he thought best sent the message that he hadn’t been unfaithful to anyone’s daughter, then took a deep breath and headed out of the apartment. He hailed a cab over to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, a journey that seemed shorter than usual, probably because he didn’t want to arrive. Too soon, he was standing outside their front door, pushing it open and stepping inside.

Tom gave him a look that saw right through the shirt choice, and Adrien recalled too late that Marinette had recently got her parents on the same social media site, to keep up with her designs and promo photos.

‘I trust you had a good time on your anniversary,’ Tom bit out in a tone that was all too Weredad for Adrien’s liking. He could easily imagine the man transforming again and striking him with his ‘great big punches’.

Adrien was not a liar, so he decided to go with the truth. The very honest truth. ‘I had a terrible time, actually. Marinette stood me up, I went to a bar to drink away my sorrows, and a crazy woman we used to go to school with stalked me there, forced a photo on me, and this morning it seems she’s trying to spread gossip about us online. But thanks for having the kids, anyway.’

Tom’s mouth fell open.

Adrien sighed. ‘Are the kids all ready to go?’

Sabine piped up from a corner of the room he hadn’t noticed she’d been standing in. ‘I packed up the twins’ bags an hour ago and they’re watching cartoons. Hugo’s on his phone.’

Adrien nodded glumly.

‘I told Tom there was more to the story than it seemed.’ Sabine shot her husband a look, and he stared down at his feet. ‘He’s always jumping to these conclusions.’

‘Well. In fairness, this time he had some help jumping there.’

Sabine led him through the door and up the stairs to the living area, where they found the kids.

‘Okay, crazies, time to go.’ Adrien clapped his hands twice.

‘Aww, but we don’t want to go!’ Emma whined.

‘We want to stay here and play video games!’ Louis joined in.

‘I know, guys. I really do understand. I’d like to sit and play video games all day too. Right now, more than ever. But we gotta go.’ He switched off the TV and they made sounds of protest that he blocked out, his attention on Hugo, who was watching him too keenly. ‘What?’ Adrien snapped, inwardly wincing at his tone.

Hugo shook his head and looked quickly at his phone. ‘Nothing.’

After some drama, Adrien managed to get the kids down to the bakery, where Sabine stopped him and pressed his hand.

‘I know you would never hurt our Marinette,’ she said. ‘Deep down, she knows it too. You’ll figure this out.’

His eyes prickled with tears, and he nodded before pulling his hand away and herding the kids outside, where he hailed another taxi to drive them back to the apartment. On the drive home, Hugo snuck glances at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. Adrien pretended not to notice and stared out the window, seeing nothing but Marinette’s hurt, angry face.

When they got to the apartment, Adrien was both relieved and disappointed that Marinette did not seem to be home.

‘You can play video games here,’ Adrien told the twins. ‘Go…do what you want.’ He waved them away and they hurled themselves on the sofa while he went into the kitchen to make tea. Definitely something with caffeine. Maybe some of that new oolong he’d bought the other day….

He sensed someone hovering in the doorway and looked up at Hugo. ‘What?’

Hugo shrugged. ‘Just…want to go fencing again, tomorrow?’

That was definitely not what Hugo really wanted to ask, but that was okay. Adrien didn’t want to talk about anything serious. He might just tell his son things he couldn’t take back later.

‘That sounds like a great idea,’ he said, and he made the tea. When he turned around, Hugo was still hovering. ‘I…would normally welcome some time with you, but right now I kind of….’

Hugo put up his hands. ‘I get it. I can look after the twins, if you want.’

Adrien raised an eyebrow. Why was Hugo acting like he had any idea what was going on? Had he overheard the conversation in the bakery? That wasn’t possible. They’d been a whole floor and several doors down. He slowly nodded. ‘Thanks. I’ll just…I’ll be in my room, if you need me.’

Hugo nodded back.

There was a moment of awkward staring, during which Adrien got the distinct impression his son could read into his soul. After everything he’d lived through, telepathy was not a thing he could discount. Maybe it was a sentimonster’s child kind of thing.

But he didn’t have the energy to unpack that today, so he moved for the doorway and Hugo stepped aside, heading for the sofa while Adrien headed down the hall.

When he opened his bedroom door, he jumped and splashed himself with hot tea. He winced and patted it down. ‘Marinette, I didn’t….’

‘Go run that under cool water,’ she instructed from where she sat on the bed.

‘What? Oh. Yeah.’ He set the cup on the floor and hurried into the ensuite, where he cooled his arm before returning to the room and sitting a cautious distance away from his wife. ‘When did you…when did you get back?’

‘Not long ago.’

‘Oh.’ Brilliant, Adrien. You really are a man of words. ‘Where did you go?’

‘Where I was supposed to meet you last night.’

His eyes rounded, and he noticed what she held in her hands.

‘I saw the candles,’ she said, not looking up at him. ‘And the roses. And the present you left behind.’ She fondled the heart-shaped silver locket, gazing into it as though she could see her own reflection there. She popped it open, revealing the scroll he’d tucked inside. ‘It’s been a long time since you’ve written me a poem.’

‘Yeah, well. I guess I….’ Again, words failed him. He tucked his hands between his knees, feeling like an uncertain teenager.

She touched the scroll. ‘No one who could write this for me – or go to all the trouble you went to – would cheat on me.’

A heavy breath of relief blew out of him. ‘I’m glad you’ve finally realised that. But I don’t see why it should have taken all that to prove it to you. Why would you ever think I would do that to you?’

She looked at him at last, and those eyes were still enough to make his heartbeat skip. ‘I don’t know, Adrien. I just…I saw that photo and that caption and something burned inside. Suddenly I was back on a rooftop in an alternative future and the whole world had been obliterated. It was like you’d…cataclysmed my heart. I was so jealous.’ She paused. ‘Why are you grinning like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like that! Like some sneaky, self-satisfied cat.’

He felt the grin grow wider. ‘You were jealous over me.’

‘I….’

‘No, you were. You were. You were so jealous that you threw water over my head.’ He gave a short laugh.

‘And that’s…a good thing?’

‘It means I matter.’ His heart swelled. ‘I matter.’

‘Of course you matter. Adrien, what are you saying?’

His grin fell and he leaned forward on his knees. ‘I haven’t felt like I matter in a long time, Marinette. Haven’t you seen that?’

‘Adrien….’

‘No, I mean it. I’m not just being dramatic. And I don’t think I’m being unreasonable or unsupportive, either. At least when we were kids, you stood me up for myself. But this time….’ He shook his head. ‘I get that there are work emergencies, but you bailed on me on a very important night. I told you I had plans for us. If sending you a fancy formal invitation doesn’t scream out it’s special, I don’t know what will. And you didn’t even call me in advance to let me know. You left me standing out there like a fool. Even the building staff knew I’d been jilted. You totally humiliated me, Marinette.’

‘I…get that, and I’m sorry.’

He sat up, fixing her with a hard stare. ‘Do you? Do you really? Because I kind of live in a perpetual state of humiliation, if I’m being really honest here. We don’t talk about it, but I’m sure all our friends know things are strained at home. Did you know even Hugo apparently told Lila that our marriage is failing?’

‘Wait…Hugo is talking to Lila?’

‘If you were around more, I would have told you. Maybe.’ He sighed, all his anger suddenly gone, now that he’d finally shared his thoughts. ‘You know what? Maybe I wouldn’t have, because I didn’t tell you about when she messaged me a while back, or when I ran into her in the café where she claimed to have run into Hugo, too, because she says it’s her favourite café. I didn’t want to stress you out. This is also why I don’t tell you half the drama with Hugo. I don’t complain to you when I have a hard day with the twins. I don’t –’

‘Maybe you should.’

He blinked at her. ‘What?’

‘Why have you been keeping all of this to yourself? Carrying all these burdens on your own shoulders? If things are so hard….’ She gave a shrug.

‘Because it sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? You actually have a job and I –’

‘Being a father is a job, Adrien. It takes time and energy and patience and dedication – and you should know that better than anyone, because Gabriel never bothered to do any of the stuff you do for our children.’

He swallowed.

She took his hand. It hurt inside just how much that single touch meant to him, like she’d just healed a deep wound. ‘I think maybe both of us have…well, we’re not really working as a team…are we?’

‘I…guess not.’

‘It’s like we’re still leading separate, secret lives. But we can share these things now, Adrien. Maybe you need to talk to me more about what’s going on with you.’

‘But you’re never home.’

She nodded. ‘And maybe I need to change that. We both have things to work on.’

He…could accept that. ‘I just miss you. I’m trying so hard not to lean on you too much, but it’s more than that. You’re my best friend.’

She smiled. ‘And you’re mine. I love you, Adrien. Nothing will ever weaken that.’ She dug into her pocket and pulled something out. The lucky charm he’d made her when they were teenagers. ‘I still carry this everywhere, you know.’

He dug into his pocket and pulled out the one she’d made him. ‘I still carry this.’ They held each other’s eyes and he clasped her hand tightly to keep himself from spinning away. ‘What, um…what was the work emergency, anyway?’

‘Ugh. Please. I will tell you, but I don’t even want to think about work right now. I just want to be with you.’

‘That’s…that’s okay with me,’ he made out as he put away the lucky charm.

She put hers away too, then pulled him into her arms. Held like that, his boundless optimism returned. Maybe things would be okay from now on. Maybe from this point forward, everything would work out and they would never argue again and Hugo would be a model student and –

‘This Lila business is serious,’ Marinette said.

‘I know.’

‘You really think she’s stalking us?’

‘It could be paranoia but…it’s been a little weird.’

She drew back from him, to look him in the eyes. ‘I don’t think you’re paranoid. I trust your judgment. Which is why I want to know what you plan to do to fix this mess of the whole world imagining you’re having an affair. You’re not some ordinary person, you know, even if you’ve dropped out of the public eye. You’re a name, and that affects me in more ways than one.’

He was ashamed to find that hadn’t even crossed his mind. But an idea came to him. He drew his phone from his pocket. ‘Here. Lean in close.’

She nuzzled against his side, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in tighter. Then he held out the phone and snapped photos of the two of them with their cheeks pressed together and silly grins on their faces. And one of him kissing her hard on the mouth. If his in-laws saw it…he no longer cared.

‘Are you posting those?’ she asked as she peered down at what he was typing.

‘Yep.’

One by one, they went up, with the caption: ‘Celebrating 23 years with the best woman I’ve ever known. #soulmates #madeforeachother #notimeforliars #sneakingphotosofmeandclaimingwe’refriends #feelsorryforsomepeople’

‘You think she’ll leave us alone now?’ Marinette asked.

‘No,’ he said fiercely. ‘But if she wants a fight, I’ll give her one.’

Chapter Text

People referred to Adrien as a ‘full-time dad’. It was a stupid term that implied that if you went to work, you somehow stopped being a father. Like Marinette wasn’t a mother, just because she was at an office while Adrien was at home with Hugo. Even if you were a Gabriel, who’d been all but absent in Adrien’s life, you didn’t stop being a father. You just sucked at the job.

At first, being at home with their one-year-old was exciting. In the earliest days of Hugo’s life, he had clung to Marinette alone. She had the right smell, so she provided comfort. And she had the breasts. No matter how much Adrien wanted to help and be right there for her every step of the way, there was no escaping the fact that he could go to sleep and she couldn’t, because after that first day of Hugo’s life, every time she tried to put him down in his basket, he would cry.

Sometimes, he would fall asleep at her breast and she would inch forward, her movement almost imperceptible, and set him slowly into the basket – so slowly that it took her a good ten minutes to get him down there. But the moment her fingers left him, the squalling started and she had to pick him up again.

When she hadn’t slept in an inhumanly ten days, and the rings around her eyes were black enough to be a Ladynoire mask, they finally made the decision to put him on a bottle for one of his night meals. The plan was to express, but she was so exhausted that she couldn’t produce extra milk for this.  

None of the books Adrien had read covered this. ‘Your body always makes enough milk,’ everything said. Then one day he found an article about cortisol cancelling out oxytocin, which was necessary for milk production. It seemed that love was the magical agent to produce their son’s nutrients, but it was hard to feel that love when you were on the brink of a breakdown.

Once he’d opened that can of worms, he found hundreds of stories online from women who’d gone through the same thing. This was probably why in the past there had been such a thing as wet nurses. And women’s communities. Doing the new mother thing on your own was madness. That was clear to him, even as a man.

‘We can’t put him on formula,’ she sobbed when Adrien suggested it. She sobbed at literally everything he said, now, simply due to sleep-deprivation.

‘But this just can’t go on. And it’s just at night.’

‘What kind of mother will I be, if we do this?’

‘The best kind of mother. The kind who knows she’s no use to her child if she isn’t looking after herself, too.’

She licked her lip, doubt written all over her face.

He cupped her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘You know how on planes, the safety guide says to fix your own oxygen mask first, before you attend to your children? It’s like that. Let me help you.’

She gave in – then never looked back.

But even with sleep, the recovery process was slow. She cried with pain just trying to use a toilet, claiming everything stung. He attended every one of her medical check-ups with her, astonished at how many male gynaecologists claimed to understand what she was going through. He’d never wanted to punch so many medical professionals.

‘I thought I’d get my body back after he was born,’ she said, day after day. ‘I thought I’d get me back.’

Gradually, they fell into a routine. Each night, he took over one of the feeds so she could get an incredible five hours of uninterrupted sleep before getting up for another feed of her own. And even though it disrupted his own sleep, he looked forward to staying up late with his son. Holding him close to his chest and feeding him, all alone, just the two of them, at an hour when no one else was awake and it was deadly silent…there was magic in the air.

‘We’re going to be the best of friends, one day,’ he would tell little Hugo. And Hugo would gurgle in reply.

Then, after a year of it, Hugo was all his. It was Adrien who saw some of his firsts, like crawling and even walking. It was Adrien who did a lot of the weaning work. And it was Adrien who did all the cleaning and all the cooking and sometimes sat watching daytime television aimed at the retired and unemployed just to have other adult voices in the house because he was starting to feel desperately lonely.

He attempted to visit children’s centres, but he was the only man present. The mothers kept their distance, in their little cliques, probably formed in antenatal classes. He kept close to Hugo, making it very clear he was the father and not some creep. A few times, he heard whispers that seemed to indicate he’d been recognised. ‘Is that Adrien Agreste?’ Still, no one talked to him. Suddenly, the prospect of a few crazed fans rushing up and offering him a morsel of attention sounded pretty good.

None of his friends were available. They were all working. Nino had a gig DJing at a local club and operated on his own schedule, and Alya did her best to fit her journalism work around it. Luka was often playing shows, and was due to hit the road soon. Felix was in another country. And Kagami…and the others….

Adrien had moved into a different world that his friends could no longer share. With Marinette increasingly at work, now, too…the only one he had anything to share with was Hugo.

One afternoon, so like all the others, he sat at the kitchen table, with Hugo beside him in a highchair, a plastic plate on the tray.

‘The airplane’s going in,’ Adrien said. He made engine sounds and zoomed a piece of toast and mashed-up avocado at his son’s mouth.

At the last second, Hugo, now eighteen months, shut his mouth – a barricade. This plane was not going in. When the food fell on the floor, Adrien just shook his head.

‘Don’t want,’ Hugo said before sealing his lips again.

Adrien laughed. ‘You’re a little upstart, aren’t you?’ Upstarts were a good thing, surely. It meant Hugo would have all the spirit Adrien never had when he was small. Hugo would never let people push him around and stamp on him. Hugo would be the truly perfect one.

After several more attempts, he managed to get Hugo to eat enough food to satisfy his mental calorie count for his son, and Adrien lifted him out of the highchair. He switched on some music, for company, headed into the living room and held his son in his arms, dancing him around the room gently. Hugo giggled as he bounced, until Adrien’s arms got tired and he set Hugo on the floor and let him toddle to a pile of blocks, where he tumbled down indelicately and started stacking the blocks.

The hours flashed before Adrien’s eyes. It would be another long day of blocks and cartoons and plastic talking cars and absolutely no adult interaction. The thought was enough to send one mad.

He missed Plagg.

He always missed Plagg.

He had an idea. ‘Hey, Hugo! What if we go see your grandparents?’

‘Grandpa,’ Hugo said, non-committal.

‘I know, it’s exciting!’ Adrien rushed around the apartment, packing up the ten million bags that were required for such a simple expedition. Then he scooped up a resisting Hugo and bundled him into the pushchair, laden with bags, and flew out of the apartment.

Normally, he would have hailed a taxi, but the thought of folding up the pushchair and then setting it up again on the other end made him feel vaguely sick. So he took the bus, thanking his lucky stars that there was a space for them, so they wouldn’t have to wait another fifteen minutes…or longer.

At the bakery, Tom and Sabine were busy serving customers. Adrien hung at the back, while Hugo reached for a display of profiteroles. ‘Past-y! Past-y!’

Adrien had learned to tune a lot of this out, over the months. The tantrums and crying and whining just seemed to merge into the white noise of existence, while he took himself into some place inside. The monks would have been proud.

‘Adrien! Hugo!’ Sabine cried when the customers had cleared. She hurried around the counter to them and started smothering Hugo in kisses. He giggled and swatted at her like he was being tickled.

‘Always good to see you,’ Tom said, coming over and drawing Adrien into a fierce embrace that nearly suffocated him. But it was nice. Nice enough to make his eyes water, in fact – and Tom noticed. ‘Everything okay, son?’

Son.

Adrien wiped his eyes. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

His in-laws exchange a look. Then Sabine said, ‘Adrien, why don’t you go upstairs for a bit with Tom, and I’ll look after Hugo down here.’

‘A-are you sure?’

‘I’m sure! The customers will love him! Don’t you worry. Go. Tom will make you some tea.’

This was a blessing from the gods that Adrien didn’t dare question, so he followed Tom out of the bakery and up the stairs to the kitchen, where he sat at the table while Tom made him a hot drink.

‘You can tell me the truth,’ Tom said. ‘What’s going on?’

To Adrien’s mortification, tears were streaming down his cheeks. Each time he wiped the away, more fell. ‘I…I don’t even know. I’m just…I’m….’

‘Lonely?’

‘…yeah.’

Tom sat across from him at the table and passed him his drink.

Adrien took it, letting the warmth of the cup soothe him. ‘At home all day with a toddler, there’s…no one to share my mind with. That…that sounds awful, doesn’t it?’

‘Not at all. Sabine felt that way with Marinette.’

‘…she did?’

Tom nodded. ‘It’s only natural. Humans were never made to be solitary. We need each other to survive. But we convince ourselves that’s a weakness, and we try to do it all on our own. We don’t reach out for help when we should.’

‘You…you think I need help?’

‘Adrien. Anyone can see you need help.’

He prickled inside, the tears giving way to a defensive instinct. He wiped his eyes one more time, his voice stronger. ‘I don’t need anyone to show me how to do things with Hugo.’

‘No. You’ve got that down, I know. But…you spend all this time looking after him. Who’s looking after you?’

Adrien blinked, remembering giving a speech just like this to Marinette, a year-and-a-half ago. ‘You mean like…I’m not fitting my own oxygen mask before attending to my child….’

Tom’s brow lifted. ‘Something like that…yeah.’

Adrien swallowed. All this time…he hadn’t been following his own advice. How was it so easy to see these things in other people, but not yourself?

‘You know….’ Tom shifted in his seat. ‘I hate to break it to you but…this isn’t even the real parenting yet.’

‘…it isn’t?’

‘Nope. You’re just babysitting, right now. Wait ’til he comes home from school asking what happens when you die, or how to deal with bullies or heartache.’ He laughed once and blew over the top of his tea.

Adrien stared into his cup. ‘I…hadn’t even thought of that.’

Tom laughed again. ‘No one ever does – and that’s okay. You just take it one stage at a time, and every time you feel like you know what you’re doing, the game changes again.’

‘But did you…did you have other people you could go to for advice about it? Like…your own father?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Not really. He was a little absent. We had a dispute and didn’t talk to each other for years.’

‘Oh. Yeah. The rice flour thing.’

‘Well, that was just the surface issue. No one stops talking to their son over rice flour, right?’

Adrien gave a nervous laugh. His own father had frequently shunned him over less.

‘And my mother…well, she’s a bit of a globetrotter and not very conventional. You know how they say opposites attract?’

Adrien nodded.

‘That was my parents. But they didn’t attract for long. Never even got married. My mother left him and took me with her, dragging me around the world on her crazy adventures.’

Wow. Marinette had never mentioned this. ‘But you…ended up settling down and making bread, like your father?’

‘Yep! Had enough adventures to last me a lifetime. By the time I’d grown up, the most rebellious thing I could think to do was to be totally traditional!’ Tom let out a loud bellow that shook the table.

Adrien smiled back…then frowned at his tea again. ‘I…didn’t really have a role model for all of this. My mother…I have nothing but wonderful memories of her.’ Because that’s how I was programmed, and that’s the mother a previous Adrien wished for. ‘But she’s been gone a long time. And my father was…who he was. He never answered any questions I had about death or bullies or broken hearts. In fact, he…saw my broken heart as an opportunity to akumatise me.’

He laughed darkly. It was either that or cry again, and…his chest felt hollow enough as it was.

Tom’s hand on his startled him, drawing his eyes up. ‘I’m sorry, Adrien. No one should have to go through all that.’

Adrien’s breath caught at the intensity in his father-in-law’s gaze – at the feeling in his voice. ‘…thanks.’

Tom removed his hand. ‘Like I say, I didn’t really have my parents to turn to. And Sabine’s parents were over in Shanghai. So, we were pretty much on our own too, with this business in its early stages. I’m not going to pretend I know just what you’re dealing with but…we had to figure a lot out on our own, and I think you will too. Even if it’s hard. You’ll be okay.’

You’ll be okay.

For some reason, when he said this…it felt true.

Adrien smiled again, this time feeling it more than before. ‘Thank you.’

Tom snapped his fingers. ‘Hey, I have an idea!’

‘Oh?’

‘What if you find Hugo a daycare – just for a day or two a week, don’t worry – to release some of your time.’

‘And do what?’ Adrien asked.

‘You could join us at the bakery!’

He’d made this invitation before but didn’t know it. The first invitation had been extended to Cat Noir. Kind as it had been, it had always felt a little too like Gabriel’s plans for him.

‘I don’t think…I don’t think I want to be a baker forever,’ he said carefully.

Tom laughed. ‘I’m not talking about forever! Just a day or two a week, to get you out of that apartment and in the company of adults, again. You can spend more time with us, and you’ll interact with customers. That’s one of the best things! That, and the smell of fresh bread.’

Bread and adult company. That did sound nice.

‘You don’t think….’ Adrien stopped himself, afraid to say the words.

‘What?’

‘Well, would Hugo….’ He sipped down some of his tea.

‘Think you’d be abandoning him?’

‘…yeah.’

Tom shook his head. ‘Being a good father isn’t about being with him every second of the day. To be a good role model, you need to figure out who you are first. How can you teach him to be strong and independent if you don’t practise what you preach?’

That was…a good point.

‘Look, Adrien. I understand why you’re worrying about this, with your background. But being with him all the time isn’t the solution to your fears. You’re just doing the extreme opposite of what your father did with you. The answer always lies in the middle. It’s like when you’re making bread. If you don’t add enough water, the flour doesn’t stick. But if you add too much water, it becomes so sticky that you can’t get it off your hands and it won’t set. You need to strike just the right delicate balance to get a good loaf.’

‘I had…no idea there could be so much wisdom in making bread.’

‘Oh, Adrien. Take up my offer and your mind will be blown.’

Adrien grinned. ‘You know what? I really like the idea. I’m in.’ His eyes prickled again when he saw the look of elation cross his father-in-law’s face.

‘That’s fantastic!’ Tom said, like he’d been waiting for Adrien to join him for years. And in a way…he had. He got up and swept around the table, throwing his arms around Adrien for the second time, nearly knocking over his tea. ‘We’re going to be the best team, Adrien!’

Adrien sank into the hug, embracing him in return. Tom was probably trying to forge the father-son relationship he’d always wanted with his own father…but no matter. If they were both trying to heal something through each other, that was okay.

When Marinette got home that evening, they sat at dinner together, with Hugo in his highchair. She took her turn feeding him, while Adrien told her about the bakery.

‘You’re sure you want to do that?’ she asked.

‘Well…why not?’

She shrugged. ‘I’m just having visions of Weredad.’

He grinned. ‘You realise that’s on my mind every time I talk to your father.’

She laughed, and Hugo laughed too, and she took that as her opportunity to push the spoon into his mouth before he had a chance to close it.

‘It’s not like I’ll be in the bakery forever,’ Adrien quoted Tom. ‘It’s just something to give me some…adult time.’

She glanced sideways at him. ‘Adult time, huh? Is that what you’ve been missing?’ Was it his imagination, or was there a hint of suggestion in her voice?

He sat up straighter, his appetite shifting targets. ‘I…won’t deny it’s been a while.’

‘Too long,’ she agreed. ‘Actually, I…made you something.’

‘…made…?’

‘Like…a costume.’ She avoided his gaze. Even after all they’d been through together, she still blushed madly when they talked like this.

His eyes widened. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

She spooned more food into Hugo’s little mouth.

‘Marinette.’

‘Three more mouthfuls,’ she told Hugo. ‘Then you can have your treat and come down, okay? Only three.’

His fingers drumming on his thigh with impatience, Adrien watched her battle through those final mouthfuls, knowing three was a bigger number than anyone imagined, until finally Hugo had finished his dinner. Marinette turned back to her own plate.

‘Marinette,’ he said again.

She smiled down at her dinner. ‘You’ll see later.’

Later really couldn’t come soon enough.

They finished eating, then bathed Hugo and dressed him for bed. Marinette read him a story about a little duck who strayed from the flock but was – thank god – found again. Then they kissed their little boy goodnight and put him in bed, and Marinette led Adrien wordlessly to their bedroom, closing the door softly behind.

‘It’s in the bag.’ She pointed at something on the floor, by the wardrobes.

He opened it and pulled out a…. ‘Is this…?’

She nodded, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘Is it weird? It’s weird, isn’t it.’

‘No, it’s…. Wow. So, you really liked the cat suit.’ He turned it around, examining it from all angles. She really had recreated his old Cat Noir costume, right down to the tail.

‘It had a certain charm,’ she said.

‘You realise this is super kinky.’

‘You realise it was super kinky when you thought it up in the first place.’

‘More than your ladybug costume?’

‘Oh, so much more. Collar and bell, Adrien. Collar and bell.’

‘Those were symbolic.’

‘If you say so.’

He stared at the costume.

‘Aren’t you going to try it on?’ she urged in a low voice. Suddenly, she was right beside him, draping herself over his shoulder.

A shiver shot down his spine and his breath grew laboured – but he turned a look on her that he could feel was all Cat Noir. ‘Anything for you, M’lady.’

Chapter Text

Fencing with Hugo was not like fencing when Adrien was growing up. For one thing, Adrien wasn’t as agile as he’d once been. Some old instinct kicked in and he found he still knew the moves. His feet knew where to go, and his arm remembered the strokes. But if he’d been granted the power to travel back in time to duel with his teenage self, present-day Adrien would have lost in seconds.

The other crucial difference was that, unlike when he was a kid, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t the best – or, second best after Kagami. There was no one pressing him to be better than he was. Instinct kicked in there, too – Gabriel’s voice was in his head, reciting the old maxims about him needing to try harder. But….

Gabriel’s not here anymore. I don’t need to listen.

He didn’t ‘need’ to do anything. This was the first Saturday he’d spent without the twins in…he couldn’t even remember.

‘You’re sure?’ he’d asked when Marinette had offered to stay at home with them.

‘I’m sure. Like we said…we both have things to work on. This is me working on them.’

After looking into classes, he decided he didn’t want formal instruction. He just wanted to play, so he’d hired out equipment and practice space. After teaching so many of his fellow students, once upon a time, he could surely teach his son.

As it happened, Hugo was a natural. His stance was beautiful and elegant, and he held the foil with just the right tension, not too strong, not too weak. He had good reflexes, too, though Adrien still easily beat him, because he knew what to anticipate.

Each time he landed a point, he stopped to explain what had happened and gave advice on how to parry and thrust. Hugo listened with an intensity Adrien had never seen in him before.

As they sparred, he thought again about genetics. He’d probably been programmed to be good at the sport. Had it been magically encoded in his DNA? Had he passed on the skill? Or was this coincidence?

Duelling in that way also brought back memories of being Cat Noir – of fighting off akuma victims with his telescopic stick. Lately he’d caught himself thinking of his alter ego more and more. If someone asked, he’d be forced to admit that he missed it. Missed playing the charming cad. Missed having an outlet where he could forget about being Adrien Agreste for a while.

After maybe an hour, Hugo pulled up his mask and begged for a break. He leaned forward, his hands on his thighs and his dark locks hanging down. ‘Exhausted,’ he gasped out. ‘And – thirsty.’

Adrien pulled up his own mask and headed for their equipment bag to dig out a bottle, then threw it to him.

Hugo drank down the whole thing in one go, then wiped his mouth and shook his head. ‘I had no idea you were secretly so awesome.’

Adrien arched an eyebrow. ‘Really? I’m not even that good at it anymore.’

‘Rub it in, why don’t you.’

He laughed. ‘These are just beginner’s lessons. You expect to be a champion in a few disconnected hours?’

The look on his son’s face told him yes. He remembered feeling that way. Like when he’d put on his miraculous and transformed for the very first time. Then, too, he’d just thought, Awesome – I’m a comic book hero! Little had he known how serious it would all become.

He dragged a towel down his face, then threw it back in the bag. ‘I had this friend who was really good at fencing. She was seriously tough. She could back me into a corner every time. The instructor used to pair us up together in lessons, because we were the two best in the class. I could never beat her.’

‘Friend or…?’

‘Friend. I mean…. There was about a week when I thought…but that was only because I’d convinced myself your mother would never love me.’

‘And then she told you how she felt?’

‘Nope! But love is love. You can’t just…change targets.’ He smiled in memory. ‘She was your mother’s friend too.’

‘Do you still talk to her?’

‘No, we…lost touch with her a long time ago. Her and…a lot of other people.’ He was suddenly slammed with a longing to talk to Kagami, just to see how she was doing, after hardly thinking of her in years. Maybe she’d have some solid advice for this existential crisis he’d got himself into. Something like, ‘You have no parents. Get over it.’

‘Why’d you lose touch with all these people?’ Hugo asked.

Adrien shrugged. ‘You grow older and…sometimes you grow apart. There doesn’t seem to be the time anymore.’

Hugo gave him a long look, almost like he was…looking around him, at his…edges or something. ‘Because of us? The twins and me?’

‘Well…yes, but…I’m not saying my limited social life is your fault. It’s just…what happens when you have kids.’

‘Because none of your friends had kids.’

‘Um.’

‘That must make you feel really different from them. Like an outsider, or something.’

This observation was not what startled Adrien. It was the fact that it was being made by his fourteen-year-old son. Was that the sort of thing a teenager noticed?

‘It does,’ Adrien said slowly. ‘If we’re speaking totally honestly here…having you changed our lives completely. It put us on a different path from our friends. Even Alya and Nino…you know they’re our closest friends, but…well, they can’t understand some of the things we’ve gone through. There’s no judgment in that. We’re not better for having kids and they’re not better for not having kids. It’s just a fact that we’ve had difference experiences.’

Hugo nodded. ‘So, when you’re going through a tough time…who do you turn to?’

Adrien started packing up their equipment.

‘You don’t have anyone? You just keep it all to yourself?’

‘Well, who do you talk to?’

Hugo blinked, like maybe he wished he still had that mask pulled down, to deflect this question.

Come to think of it, Adrien could only remember hearing one friend’s name – Paul. And Paul had never come to their home.

Adrien gave him a sad smile. ‘Maybe we’re more alike than either of us thinks.’

Hugo stared at the ground. But not like he was shutting down. More like there was…something on his mind but he…wasn’t sure he should say.

There was no point in pushing it. ‘Let’s go change.’

‘Okay.’

Hugo followed him back to the locker rooms, were they dropped the equipment on a bench. Adrien started digging through his bag for his clothes, while Hugo sat on a bench, looking away, at the lockers across the room.

Unable to help himself, Adrien said, ‘What’s on your mind, Hu?’

‘Hm?’ He looked surprised, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. ‘Oh. Um. Nothing, really, just…have you ever thought maybe…Nino and Alya….’

Adrien changed his shirt, waiting for him to finish that thought.

‘Like, maybe Nino doesn’t share everything with you, either.’

‘…because he doesn’t want me to feel left out or something?’

‘No, because he…because he feels left out. Because he wants what you have.’

Adrien stared at his back. ‘That’s a remarkably mature insight you’ve just had there.’ A little too remarkable. ‘Has anyone…said anything to you, to make you think that?’

He quickly shook his head. ‘It’s just a feeling I have.’

‘A feeling.’

‘Yeah, like…a feeling.’

‘A feeling.’

Hugo turned to face him, looking up at him under thick eyelashes, so reminiscent of Marinette in her shyest moments, even if he had Adrien’s eyes. ‘They’re both so good with the twins. Always buying them presents and playing with them. People like that…why don’t they have kids…you know?’ Something about the way he said this sounded like he was trying to come up with reasons for his theory on the fly.

Adrien packed up their foils. ‘It’s one thing to coo over someone else’s children, and another to have to raise them yourself. Not that you were some kind of burden – I’m just saying. I don’t think that’s proof that Nino wishes he had children.’

‘Okay, forget it. What do I know, right? I’m only fourteen.’ His immediate dismissal of his own theory was almost as strange as his original observation. Because it was obvious that he was only saying what he thought he should say, to move on. He was trying to get out of something.

‘No, no,’ Adrien said. ‘I don’t think you’re wrong just because of your age. If you…feel something…I’d love to hear more about it. If Nino envies me, why don’t they just have kids of their own? Does Alya not want it? Or….’

‘They can’t have children,’ Hugo said with shocking certainty. ‘Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.’

Adrien narrowed his eyes at him. Lila. It had to be. Hugo was still talking to Lila.

But that meant Alya was confiding things in Lila that she wasn’t confiding in Marinette, who was supposedly her best friend.

Unless Marinette knew, and Adrien was the only one left out of the discussion.

Unless something even stranger is happening. Like….

‘Hey.’ He put a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Wanna get a pizza or something? I’m sure your mother won’t mind staying on her own with the twins a while longer.’

Hugo looked relieved to be leaving their former subject behind. ‘I’ll never say no to pizza.’

They went separate ways to finish changing, then headed for a restaurant not far from the apartment, where they were given a table for two with a window view onto the street.

After giving their orders, Adrien leaned forward to Hugo, keeping his voice low. ‘Okay, listen. I don’t know how to say this in any subtle way, so I’m not going to bother. You’ve been acting weird.’

Hugo opened his mouth to interject, but Adrien put up a hand.

‘No, let me finish. I don’t even mean the detentions or staying out late – although I will say that I’m relieved you’ve been choosing to stay home more often, because like I always say, you’re only fourteen, and…well, I’m really enjoying spending time with you.’

He paused, leaving a gap for Hugo to say, ‘I’m really enjoying spending time with you, too, Papa.’

When it didn’t happen, Adrien barrelled on. ‘And I didn’t judge you for the fight you got into. To be honest, I’m sort of proud of you, even if…yeah, I should probably tell you not to punch people. Did I ever do that?’

‘No.’

‘Right. Well. Don’t punch people. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘So, this isn’t about that. It’s all this stuff you come out with.’

‘Stuff?’

‘Stuff. Fourteen-year-olds don’t make casual comments about the intricacies of their parents’ marriage or sense when there’s been a big drama or comment on people’s fertility, or…lack thereof.’

Hugo looked at him blankly. ‘Are you…still speaking French?’

Adrien sighed. ‘When I think back to being fourteen…I just don’t think most kids your age get feelings about that sort of thing. Unless….’

Hugo looked up again, daring him to finish his sentence.

‘Unless there’s something else going on.’

‘…like what?’

‘You tell me.’

It was clear in Hugo’s eyes – this time, he was closing off. A wall was rising between them, and he had to jump in there before it was too late.

Adrien rubbed his temples, then folded his arms on the table. ‘Have you been talking to someone?’

‘Someone?’

‘Who gave you all that information?’

‘N-no one told me anything about Alya and Nino.’

Or your mother and me. It couldn’t all be down to Lila. Hugo had intuited things that had never left the house, as far as Adrien was aware.

‘Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but….’ He trailed off, unsure he wanted to open the next can of worms but knowing he had to.

‘Whatever you have to say to me, just say it.’ It was a challenge, but also…a plea. Like Hugo was carrying some private burden and he needed someone to utter its name, so he could release it. He couldn’t reveal the secret himself.

‘I…sometimes wonder if some kind of magic went into you,’ Adrien blurted.

Hugo drew back in his seat, blinking several times. ‘…magic?’

‘Because of Gabriel. I mean, your grandfather. Because he practised a kind of magic, and I…I don’t know what that does to the bloodline.’

‘Is that…possible? I mean…didn’t he have some kind of…object that gave him the magic? That’s…that’s what I’ve read online. He wasn’t magic himself…was he?’

That was a good question. Gabriel had been a sentimonster, so in fact he was magic. Just like Adrien. What the implications of that were, though….

Hugo shifted in his seat, looking relieved when the waiter came with their order.

Adrien watched his son and waited, refusing to say another word. He would sit in silence until Hugo felt so uncomfortable that he started talking first. He even leaned back in his chair and sipped slowly at his drink, never taking his eyes off his son’s, staring him down in disturbing speechlessness.

I will win, Hugo. You can fight me all you want, but I. Will. Win.

Hugo kept his eyes on his pizza. ‘I don’t know what you’re implying. That I have some kind of powers?’ He squeaked out the word.

‘Maybe. Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you kind of remind me of him, in a way. Like you have some kind of empathic ability.’

Hugo looked up sharply. ‘Gabriel was an empath? Isn’t empathy supposed to be a good thing?’

‘You’re changing the subject.’

‘So are you. Every time I try to understand something about your side of the family, you shut me down.’

‘That’s not –’ Adrien stopped there, for two reasons. One was that Hugo was absolutely right. He did shut down that line of conversation – because it was dangerous.

The other was that there was a rumble under their feet and the sound of screaming outside.

They both turned to the window. Hugo’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, while Adrien froze in his seat, heart heavy in his chest, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Stalking down the street, with all the poise and attitude of a runway model, was a woman with long blond hair and striking blue eyes. She wore tall heels and a short dress – kind of. The ‘skirt’ was a….

‘Is that a…a…pie?’ Hugo said.

‘Cherry, if I’m not mistaken.’

But how could it – how was it – how –

Adrien glanced around the restaurant – at all the people staring in the direction of the windows or pressing themselves against them to get a better view. Then he looked out the window again, too, and watched the show.

Pedestrians were fleeing down the street, but not fast enough. The pie woman pointed one long index finger. What looked like cherry sauce flew out of the fingertip, covering a young man in a suit. Before Adrien’s eyes, the victim morphed into a giant pie. But the top and bottom half of the crust came apart and chattered away like a mouth. And words came out, loud and clear:

‘When I was seventeen, I went on a camping trip and was so scared of the woods at night that I wet myself, while sharing a tent with a friend.’

The words were spoken as if through a loudspeaker, so they could be heard even through the window.

She fired again – and again – and again – covering everyone in cherry sauce, one by one. And one by one, they too turned into chattering pies.

‘When I was eleven, I was so desperate for a boy’s attention that I ran through his football game screaming and twirling in circles.’

‘Right after I got my driving licence, I pulled out of the car park and backed into another vehicle and just drove off.’

‘I’ve been having an affair with a married man for the last seven months.’

Their attacker let out a cackle of laughter that sent a deep shiver down Adrien’s spine with its familiarity. ‘That’s right, shame yourself! All of Paris will humiliate themselves before Madame Humble Pie!’

Adrien swallowed down a lump in his throat. This was…not possible. Not unless someone had attacked the whole Order of the Guardians.

Oh god. Bodhan! All of them! What’s happened to them?

He glanced at his hand – at the finger his miraculous ring used to rest on, but which was now bare. There was nothing he could do about what was happening.

Humble Pie was coming down the road, nearing the restaurant, and instinct kicked in for the second time that day. Adrien shoved Hugo down under the table, then whirled around to face the rest the others. ‘Everyone get down!’ he yelled at them. When no one moved, he belted out, ‘Now!’ before dropping under the table with his son.

From that vantage point, he had a limited view through the bottom sliver of the window. In his periphery, he noticed Hugo watching him. He wore a similar expression to the one he’d had while they were fencing – like his father had just turned out to be someone unexpected.

‘Don’t be scared,’ Adrien said softly. ‘Everything will be okay.’ He spoke with more conviction than he felt.

He’d had dreams like this, sometimes. Dreams of akuma victims – dreams that someone managed to steal the butterfly miraculous again. Dreams that he was helpless and couldn’t defend anyone anymore, because he no longer had a miraculous.

Dreams that the Wish might be used and erase everything good he’d built up over the years.

But never in all his nightmares had he imagined it might be Chloe Bourgeois again. Not after all that time. He’d lost all touch with her, over the years, but always hoped she’d found some way to be happy.

Guess not.

There were more screams outside – more humiliating confessions he wished he could block from his mind, out of respect for those poor people.

The most crucial thing was that he didn’t get zapped – first, because then who would protect Hugo? And second, because of all the secrets he carried, only one was shaming.

If he didn’t play this right, his sentimonster status would become public knowledge.

‘Papa?’

It was still so rare to hear Hugo utter this word that he didn’t even realise it was directed at him until Hugo said it again. Then Adrien turned a slow stare on him. ‘Yes?’

‘Is this…is this….’

Adrien glanced behind them, at the people now cowering under the tables like he’d ordered, and then back at his son. He nodded and stared back up through the window. ‘You wanted to know more about your grandfather? Well, take a good look, because this is exactly what Paris was like when he was in the world.’

Chapter Text

It was unclear how Adrien had gone from doing one to two days a week in the bakery to every weekday. Somehow it had become a full-time job, and it no longer felt temporary. Years had gone by, and when that happened, it was too easy to forget you ever had dreams of doing anything else…even if you’d never figured out what those dreams were.

Then somehow it was his birthday, and he was on the living room sofa staring at thirty candles on a cake Tom had made for him, surrounded by Marinette, Hugo, the in-laws, Nino and Alya. While they sang to him, he gazed into glowing auras of those flames. Then he leaned forward and made a wish.

Please let me find a path for myself.

As he blew out the candles, it hit him that this was not the kind of wish you made. You couldn’t just wait for things to happen – for life to drop something your way, although that could certainly happen. You had to get out there and do something. If he wanted to find a path…he needed to find it.

Yet, he felt a surge of relief when he managed to blow out every candle in one go, like he’d just received the universe’s blessings for whatever he chose to do. The wish had to come true now.

Beside him, Marinette smacked a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thirty!’

He smiled. ‘You’ll catch me up soon.’

‘Never. You’ll always be older.’

In fact, as he’d only been created at…who even knew what age…he might be younger, despite what physiology claimed. But no one needed that kind of talk at a birthday party.

‘Present time!’ Alya had her phone out, snapping photos as ever. Maybe it was the model in him, but Adrien had forgotten there was a camera.

Marinette jumped to her feet and grabbed the pile of presents waiting on the floor, thrusting beautifully wrapped parcels at him.

He opened them one by one. A super high-end set of headphones from Alya and Nino. A personalised apron from Tom and Sabine, which was both touching and a little depressing. A hand-knitted scarf from Marinette, in the same shade of green as his eyes. She pointed out the colour every time she saw it.

Hugo, now seven, clambered onto the sofa next to him and gave him a much less beautifully wrapped object, which Adrien opened with greater care than the other gifts. It was some sort of clay creation.

‘It’s fantastic,’ Adrien said, with no idea what it was.

‘Do you like its wings?’ Hugo asked.

‘I…love them!’ So that’s what those wibbly bits were.

‘What a wonderful butterfly!’ Marinette said. She obviously had insider knowledge.

‘Yeah!’ Adrien turned it over in his hands. ‘A butterfly – that’s incredible, Hugo!’

Why had Hugo chosen a butterfly?

Don’t be paranoid. Lots of kids like butterflies. And there’s that book about the hungry caterpillar.

Still….

‘Thank you, everyone.’ His gaze landed on each of them, one at a time.

Tom started handing out slices of cake – a to-die-for passionfruit sponge. After, there was music and terrible karaoke that probably made the neighbours’ ears bleed – although Adrien liked to think he didn’t do too badly. Then, around eight in the evening, their guests scurried out the door because it was time for Hugo to go to bed.

Fun as the party was, it was a relief to plop onto the sofa with Marinette after everything was over.

‘I thought turning thirty would be a lot of heavy drinking and dancing,’ Adrien said.

‘You never did that before turning thirty.’ She leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘What’s been on your mind?’

‘Hm?’ He leaned his head on her head. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, come on. You can’t pretend, with me. You’ve seemed…I don’t know. Not moody but…like your thoughts have been somewhere else, all day.’

He sighed and interlaced his fingers with hers. ‘You know this wasn’t my real birthday.’

She sighed too. ‘I was wondering when you’d make this speech.’

Oh dear. Was he that predictable? ‘Well, it’s not. It’s a celebration to honour some arbitrary day chosen as my birthday simply because it was Julien’s birthday. My birthday is…I don’t even know when my birthday is.’

She squeezed his arm. ‘Is that all of it?’

‘…no.’ He traced the knuckles on her hand. ‘It was…the wish.’

She drew away just enough to look up at him. ‘As in…?’

‘No. The birthday candle wish.’

‘Oh.’ She let out a breath and laughed. ‘Just that.’

‘Not just that. It…it got me thinking.’

She pulled out of his reach and sat sideways on the sofa. ‘Okay. Hit me with your revelation.’ Her expression was serious, like she was preparing herself for something heavy.

‘I don’t know if I’d call it a revelation, but…I was just thinking about what I want to do with myself.’

‘Beyond the bakery?’

He nodded. ‘That’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I mean – no offense to your parents.’

She laughed again. ‘No offense taken. We all know it’s not your life’s passion. So, where did your musings take you?’

‘Well, I was thinking…even just making a wish for something to happen…that’s passive. You’re expecting the universe to deliver so you don’t have the do the work. I mean, if we’re going to look at the Wish…that was Gabriel expecting something to be done for him.’

‘He put a lot of energy into it.’

‘Yeah, but…in a strange way, it was lazy. It was a way of avoiding grief. And grief isn’t something you just feel. Believe me – it’s something you do. It takes effort. Gabriel was a coward.’ The former bitterness was gone when he said this. It had become merely fact.

‘But you did that grieving. You aren’t a coward.’

‘I like to think so.’

‘And you sure put a lot of energy into pursuing me.’

He smiled. ‘And you know what? That’s one of the few things I’m truly proud of, because it’s one of the few things I ever did for myself.’ His smile fell. ‘Even the way I came into the world was passive. Remember what that midwife said when Hugo was born – about how it’s hard work for the baby, too?’

She pursed her lips, probably seeing where this was headed.

‘I never did any of that work. I never went through what Hugo went through. I never had to learn how to lift my head or sit up or move my limbs, or crawl or walk or talk. I came into the world fully formed. Okay, not fully formed, but…you know what I mean.’

‘I do,’ she whispered.

‘And then, I spent years letting Gabriel control me.’

‘But you broke free of that. You took back that control.’

‘Yeah – and then I just went along with everything else life threw at me.’

Her eyes drooped at the corners, her expression wavering. ‘Do you…think I’m controlling?’

‘No.’ His words were coming out all wrong. He took her hand and scooted closer to her. ‘That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just…everything that’s happened…I’m good at rolling with the punches, but I’m not good at…grabbing life with both hands and taking action. Not as Adrien Agreste, anyway.’

These words hung between them – because Cat Noir had been something else, something good for him. He missed being that person.

If the monks were to be believed, all that power…it lay within him, with or without a miraculous. But too often, he felt like the man in that old German novel Bodhan had mentioned years before – the one who leapt off that cliff to embrace his beloved planet, then crashed to his death when he thought, It’s impossible.

‘I don’t know how to channel Cat Noir without the costume.’

‘I made you a costume.’ A flirty little smile danced on her lips – but it was clear she was forcing the mood.

‘It’s not the same. When I took off that ring, I closed off part of myself without realising I was doing it. I couldn’t tell you why. I just…I’ve never believed in my own power. Not like…not like you. It was easier for you to take off the earrings because you know too well who you are.’

‘It wasn’t easy, Adrien.’

‘I didn’t say that. I said it was easier. That’s all.’

She frowned. ‘You sound like you’re having some kind of…I don’t know, mid-life crisis, maybe.’

He laughed. ‘You realise you just suggested I’m going to die at sixty.’

She pressed his hand, hard – pleading.

‘I’m not unhappy, Marinette. It’s important that you know that. I’m just…drifting. I need to take the oars and steer for a change. Does…that make sense?’

‘It does.’

He held her eyes a moment, then let out a long breath. ‘So, I was thinking – what about children’s therapy?’

‘You’re…concerned about Hugo?’

He shook his head. ‘I mean for me. Wait – this isn’t coming out right. I’ll start again. I’m thinking to become a children’s therapist.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, wow. Adrien, I think you’d be great at that!’

‘You do?

‘Of course! Why do you sound so surprised?’

‘Um.’ Why was he surprised?’

‘You’ve always had such a good heart and generous spirit. You’re the most naturally loving person I know. Even when we were kids, you were always throwing yourself in there to help people anytime they needed it, no matter who it was. That’s why Master Fu chose you! You never wanted to give up on anyone – even Lila and Chloe. You were always telling told me we should give them a chance, try to understand them better.’

An image of Gabriel filled his mind. ‘Some people get too many chances.’

‘Maybe. But you’re still right for trying. It’s their fault if they don’t engage.’ She pressed his hand again. ‘You have just the kind of spirit that will resonate with troubled children. And you’ve lived through stuff, too, so you can be truly empathic. And just think of all those times you supported me as Cat Noir. How about when Monarch got all the miraculous? You were there for me in a way no one else could. You’ll be so good at this.’

He could feel himself beaming. ‘Thank you so much for your support, Marinette. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to know you believe in me.’

‘I’m only speaking honestly.’ She pressed a kiss on his lips – then went into Ladybug mode. ‘How do you do all of this? Do you need to do a new degree? What’s the plan?’

‘It’s a new degree, yeah. We can afford it, of course. It’s just…the time. But I’ve done a lot of research, and there’s a distance course I can do, so I can still be around enough for the children. And I get to pace things how I like, more or less, so I can take several years to do it. It won’t be just the one degree, either. I have to start with a basic psychology degree and then move on to a master’s, to specialise. I might not be qualified until I’m old and grey, but…at least it would be something I chose for myself. You know?’’

‘That’s the second time you’ve talked about kids in plural. Am I pregnant without knowing it?’

He laughed and took both her hands. ‘It’s just the whole passive thing, again. When we had Hugo…. Don’t get me wrong – I am so happy he’s in our lives. I wouldn’t change a single moment of the last seven years. I cannot stress that enough.’

‘But it was a whirlwind.’

‘Yes . So, I was thinking we could…maybe we could plan it, this time.’

Her brow lifted, and he hurried on.

‘Please tell me to shut up, if you’re not on the same page as me, but…the thought is just…it’s exciting. Like…choosing to go on that journey again together. No tears and surprises. We both kind of know what to expect, this time, and…no, really, do tell me to shut up if –’

‘Actually….’ She gave him a shy smile, reminiscent of younger days. ‘I’ve had similar thoughts.’

‘You…you have?’

She nodded. ‘I’m in a decent place in my career – but it hasn’t completely taken off yet. I need to think about these things, to get the timing right, you know?'

‘Yeah.’ Women definitely had this stuff harder than men.

‘I just didn’t want to throw more of it on you, and just expect you to look after multiple children while I’m working. And now you want to do this degree….’

‘That’s just it – I don’t care how busy it gets. I want the chaos. And….’ He cast a glance at an enormous helium balloon in the corner of the room, which said 30. ‘We’re not getting any younger. If we’re going to do this, we should do it soon. Emma and Louis.’ He tapped his temple. ‘I remember.’

She laughed. ‘I thought you wanted more control. Maybe you want to suggest some names, this time.’

He shook his head. ‘I like your names. But I get to choose their middle names, like I did with Hugo. If it’s a girl, Emma Sabine.’

‘Not Emma Emilie?’

‘I’m not even replying to that. And if it’s another boy, Louis Felix.’

‘They’re perfect.’ She licked her lip in the most delicious way and came closer to him, draping her arms around his neck. ‘Adrien.’ Her voice was throaty.

‘Marinette.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist, picking up on her tone.

‘It’s not that late.’

‘It’s not.’

And, crazy backstory aside, I say it’s your birthday. We could continue the party. Maybe…in our room?’

‘That is the best thing I’ve heard all day.’ He held her closer, forgetting himself in the next long kiss.

Later that night, Adrien was jolted awake by the sound of screaming. Adrenaline coursed through his body and his heart pounded, even though it was only Hugo having one of his nightmares again.

Marinette was still fast asleep…though she might have been pretending, so she didn’t have to get up. It was his turn, anyway, so he forced himself out of the bed and trundled out of the room, across the hall and into their son’s room. If they had more of these strange creatures, there would be even less sleep. He’d better get used to it.

Hugo was tossing and turning in the bed, whimpering and shrieking, not quite awake but not fully asleep either. It was one of those waking terrors Adrien had read were common with children, though he had no memory of ever experiencing them himself. Marinette had gone through a phase of them, though – so Sabine had once told him. Hugo would grow out of it, just like his mother did.

‘Hugo.’ He nudged him. When he continued to thrash in the bed, Adrien grabbed him gently but firmly and pressed his shoulders. ‘Hugo! Come on, wake up. Let’s go use the toilet and have some water, okay?’

There was more shrieking and whimpering, and even some confused slapping from his frantic child, but Adrien managed to get him out of the bed and into the bathroom, where the bright lights startled him, making him blink with confusion.

A few minutes later, he was calmer and speaking coherently. ‘I had a nightmare.’

‘I know. Come on, let’s go back to your room and we can have a cuddle and you can tell me all about it.’

Bleary-eyed, and feeling like he was sleepwalking himself, he took Hugo by the hand and led him to a rocking chair in his room, from back in the baby feeding days. The only light was the dim glow of the moon through the curtains, but it was enough.

He sat down first, then lifted Hugo onto his lap in a hug. Hugo wrapped his arms around his neck so tightly that Adrien had to pull at them so he could breathe. Then he ran his hand up and down his son’s back. ‘What did you dream?’

Hugo buried his face into his neck. He was trembling. ‘I don’t want to say.’

‘Okay. You don’t have to tell me unless you want to. But you know…sometimes it can help to talk about it. Then the monsters aren’t in your head anymore. They’re out here and I can fight them off for you and make them go away.’

There was another whimper on response. Hm.

‘You know, when I was….’ A kid? ‘…younger…I used to have bad dreams, too.’

Hugo went still in his arms, like maybe he was having a hard time believing his father had ever been a little boy. In fact, he hadn’t. ‘…what did you dream?’

‘Oh, all sorts of things.’ Your mother rejecting me. My father rejecting me. My mother dying. ‘The important thing is that when the lights were on again, the monsters were….’

‘They were gone, Papa?’

No. They were right there in the house with me. ‘Yeah. That’s right. It was all in my head. Sometimes our brains can play tricks on us.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t really know. Maybe it’s a test, to see how strong and brave we are.’

Hugo nuzzled in tighter. ‘I’m not strong or brave.’

‘That’s not true. You survived your dream, didn’t you? Do you see any monsters here, right now?’ He nudged Hugo so he was sitting up, peeking at the room.

‘No.’

‘There. See? All gone. You must have scared them away.’

A slow smile spread across Hugo’s young face. ‘I want to go back to bed now.’

Adrien smiled back. ‘See? You’re so brave.’ He helped him down and tucked him back into bed, then lingered at his side. ‘You know I’ll always protect you, right? You’re safe with me. Whatever monsters you dream up, they can’t hurt you because I won’t let them.’

Hugo’s eyes were already drooping shut with sleep, but he managed to murmur, ‘I know, Papa.’

Adrien bent down to kiss his son on the forehead. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Papa.’

He headed back to his own room, creeping into the bed as carefully as he could, so he didn’t disturb Marinette, who really did seem asleep. Then he lay on his back, staring up into the darkness of the room, thinking about what she’d said about all he had to give.

Maybe that was his Cat Noir side – the side that Master Fu had seen – the side that put his own desires on hold and swept in to the rescue, no matter what he was giving up or how tired or worn out he was. Looked at from that angle…he hadn’t been passive all these years, after all.

And his therapy course was somehow part of it all – an extension of what he already did…who he already was.

Marinette was right. He could do this. No, he would do this. For the first time in his life, he had a dream all his own.

Chapter Text

Adrien’s heart ached with sadness as he watched Chloe stalk down the street outside the restaurant, akumatised again, like no time had passed at all.

Last he’d heard, she’d run off to Rio and eloped with an older man. When she dropped off the face of the earth, he told himself she’d found her happiness at last. But seeing her now, it was clear that she still harboured at least some of her old bitterness. She hadn’t healed.

She’d never been perfect – but neither had he. What she had been was completely and utterly herself. Seeing her taken over like this was just…wrong.

Behind him, other guests in the restaurant were crying. There were whispers from some of the older ones – ‘How is this possible?’ ‘How can it be happening again?’ ‘I thought he was dead!’ – and expressions of bewilderment from the younger ones.

‘I need to ring your mother,’ Adrien murmured to Hugo, crouched under the table with him and watching through the window.

‘What can she do about it?’ Hugo asked in a low voice.

The question made his thoughts stall. ‘N-nothing. But I need to check she and the twins are okay.’ It was painful how true this was. They no longer had any miraculous, which meant they no longer had any power. He hadn’t felt so helpless in years.

He pulled out his phone and rang Marinette’s number – then cursed when it went to voicemail, stuffing the phone away again.

‘No answer?’ Hugo guessed.

‘Hopefully it means they’re safe.’ What should he do if they were all pies. Ring the Guardians? Could they send someone over in time?

My family. I need to protect my family.

Outside, Chloe – Madame Humble Pie – was shooting cherry sauce like a missile at fleeing pedestrians. When she cackled, the ground shook in a way that reminded Adrien of an earthquake he’d once lived through in California. Everywhere her sauce landed, people turned into pies, chattering up and down the road. He tried hard not to hear their painful confessions.

Find another street, Chloe. I don’t care who you hurt, just don’t come near my children.

‘Th-this is what Grandpa used to do to people?’ Hugo whispered.

Adrien winced at the word Grandpa. It was unnaturally affectionate and spoke volumes for how badly his son wanted a family connection that simply could not be. Not without a time ma –

His breath caught. Is that what’s happened? Did someone get hold of the rabbit miraculous and bring the old Gabriel back?

Or maybe he got hold of it in the past and travelled to the future, and we just never knew when we lived through the past.

If he never had another time travel story to unpack again, he would die a happy man.

‘Do we just…wait for Ladybug and Cat Noir to come back?’ Hugo asked.

‘They aren’t coming back.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just do, okay? You sense things, and so do I.’ Too late, he heard how harsh that came out.

Hugo stared wide-eyed but said nothing.

Adrien dragged a hand over his face, softening his voice. ‘Sorry, I’m just…I don’t mind saying I’m afraid. Who knows how long we’ll be trapped in here, and I’m…I’m worried about the others. I guess this is the moment you find out your father isn’t a superhero, after all.’ Not anymore, anyway.

‘Are you kidding? You’re Batman, remember?’

Adrien gave him a thin smile, then held him by the shoulders, staring into his eyes, the same green as his own. It was almost like looking into a mirror, only a mirror into the past, a peek at the fragile boy he used to be. ‘Listen – no matter what, I’m going to get you out of here. I’m going to keep you safe. You hear me? I –’

‘Ladybug and Cat Noir!’ Humble Pie screeched like a banshee. The windows and even the table rattled with the sound. ‘I know you’re out there! Mocking me all these years, with your secret identities! Humiliating me all that time! You thought you could get away with that? Well, I know the truth, now – and you’re going to pay for it! You hear me? All of Paris is going to pay for it!’

He turned slowly back to the window, his stomach turning to liquid. ‘She knows our – I mean their identities?’ It wasn’t possible. Not unless someone from a very select group of people had told her.

Zoe? No way. They don’t even talk.

‘She seems to think the legendary heroes are coming,’ Hugo whispered.

‘Yeah, but they’re not. Everyone knows they went into retirement. There’s no way they –’

The rest of that sentence was swept out of his mouth by a flash of red and black. The product of wishful thinking, maybe, but…no. This wasn’t some hallucination. This was real.

The room seemed to be shrinking, the walls pressing against him, making it difficult to breathe.

No. It…it can’t….

‘Papa?’

‘I…I’m fine, I just….’ There was no suitable way to finish that thought.

He sat up so straight that he smacked his head against the table. Wincing, he scrambled to the window, pressing himself against it, putting himself on full display. His blood ran cold as his eyes took in what he didn’t want to see. The room, the street, the people – everything and everyone seemed to melt away until all he was aware of was her.

‘Papa, what’s wrong?’

It’s okay, it’s okay. There’s a logical explanation, like…maybe she’s from the past, too, and just never told me about this little blip in the timeline, because it would create a paradox or cause some kind of spacetime continuum meltdown or –

She landed on a rooftop across the street. Although the costume was the same as he remembered…it fit her differently. That was the shape of his Marinette – the Marinette who was thirty-seven and had mothered three children. She was curvier and her hair longer, in a high ponytail skimming down her back.

She was stunning.

And he was going to kill her.

He popped the window open enough to hear her yell, ‘Hey, pie-face! Looking for me?’

Hugo was at his side again. ‘Whoa! Is that –’

‘Yes.’ Adrien swallowed down the lump of rage…hurt…fear filling his throat.

‘And you were so sure they wouldn’t come back.’

‘I was.’ He slowly eased back from the window, trembling from head to toe.

‘Why don’t you come down here where I can see you better!’ Humble Pie jeered back.

‘Gladly!’ Ladybug reached for her hip – for her yo-yo.

Adrien swallowed and crawled backwards on the floor.

‘Papa, what’re you doing?’

‘I….’ What was he doing? ‘Hugo, I…I need to….’ Ignoring the sound of his son’s surprise, he crawled out from the table and tore across the restaurant, contradicting all his own commands for everyone to keep down. He flung open the front door, stepping outside to see better – just in time to see Ladybug swinging down into the street, to face off with the villain.

He hovered in the doorway. Nearby was a chattering pie repeating over and over some sad embarrassing story about thinking a girl wanted to kiss her and leaning in for the kiss, only to have the girl pull back and laugh when she fell forward on her face.

That’s more than humiliating. That’s just plain cruel.

‘Ladybug,’ Humble Pie sneered, legs akimbo and fists on her hips. ‘I knew you’d show up. And I see you brought your mangy cat with you, too.’

His chest tightened when she threw a look right at him.

Worse – Ladybug followed that stare, finding him in the doorway. When their eyes locked, she looked even more afraid than he was – maybe reading his emotions in his face.

Her gaze drifted to his side, and he whirled to see that Hugo had followed him. Of course.

‘Papa?’ Hugo’s voice was shaky. ‘What’s she talking about?’

Adrien opened his mouth to say…something…anything…but was cut off by Humble Pie.

‘Let’s see what humiliating secrets you two are keeping, hmmm?’ She aimed her finger at Adrien, like she’d singled him out for special humiliation – but Ladybug was there before he could blink, lifting him and Hugo into the air, carrying them out of harm’s way.

‘You can’t hide from me!’ Humble Pie screamed after them. ‘I will expose your secrets!’ Her voice was distant, though, Ladybug already well in the lead.

Hugo let out a long, loud shriek that lasted right up until she set them down behind a chimney stack, on a rooftop several streets away. He was pale with shock, his eyes enormous, scanning her up and down in disbelief. ‘What’s…and who…how strong are you?’

Ladybug gave him a wan smile, then peered up at Adrien under her eyelashes, her shoulders slumping inward with guilt. She didn’t look so strong anymore. ‘I guess I have something to tell you.’

‘You think?’ His heart pounded, torn between two urges – to kiss her and to scream at her.

She put up her hands, a dam to hold back the floodwaters. ‘Later – I promise we will talk about this later.’

He didn’t want to wait for later – but the watery look of confusion on Hugo’s face made him ease back. There were bigger things to focus on – for now. ‘Are the twins okay?’

‘They’re with Alya and Nino. I dropped them off before transforming.’

Hugo let out a sharp gasp. ‘Maman?’

She threw him a quick glance before looking at her feet.

Adrien took a step towards her, nudging her chin so she was forced to meet his eyes. ‘And I guess you…somehow managed to contact Master Su-Han, after that…and he just happened to be in town…?’

Her gaze flickered away.

He couldn’t help the hardness of his voice. ‘That’s what happened, isn’t it? Because that’s where the miraculous have been all this time – right?’

She pressed her forefingers together, her old I don’t want to admit this gesture.

The magnitude of…everything…hit him, and he leaned against the chimney, dizzy. ‘Marinette –’

‘Later. Right now, we have to deal with the akuma.’ Her previous vulnerability had vanished, back in Guardian mode again.’

‘What do you mean, we? In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t –’ For the second time, words escape him, as he watched her pop open her yo-yo, dipping in and pulling out a ring he hadn’t seen in more than fourteen years.

The sight of it was like a punch to the gut. Adrien took a step back, almost stumbling over his own feet. After all this time….

‘W-what’s that?’ Hugo asked.

Ladybug held Adrien with her stare, leaving it to him to explain.

‘It’s…one of my secrets.’ Like a child swiping sweets before his parents could catch him, he grabbed the ring and slipped it onto his finger.

Plagg flew out, his green eyes large. ‘Is that…you?’

Oh my god oh my god oh my –

He shook himself. ‘No time, Plagg – claws out!’

Hugo staggered backward as Adrien transformed, a sudden sense of wholeness flooding him.

This – this is what I was missing. This is what I needed.

Hugo was so pale, he looked like a ghost under all that dark hair. His gaze was bouncing between Cat and Ladybug, probably revising every idea he’d ever had about his parents.

Cat sighed. ‘I guess you were right – we came to the rescue, after all. I should listen to you more often.’

‘You….’ Hugo turned to Ladybug. ‘And you….’

She gave him a soft nod.

‘Does anyone else know that you’re….?’

‘Super fantastic?’ Cat supplied.

Ladybug rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her mouth. ‘I missed you like this.’

‘In black leather?’

‘Ew, you’re my parents!’ Hugo cried.

Cat grew serious. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that I will not be sacrificing myself on this occasion, M’lady.’

‘I know.’ She knew just what secret would be revealed if he got hit with that cherry sauce.

He extended his stick and leaned on it, slipping back into the role like a second skin he’d forgotten he had. Unlike relearning piano, some things were like getting back on a bicycle. ‘So. What’s the plan? Any idea where the akuma is?’

‘I came into this halfway through the story, just like you. I was trying to read to the twins, when I heard –’

A shadow stole their attention – Humble Pie had landed on the roof with them. ‘There you are. And you finally have your mangey alley cat, too. Or should I say Adrien.’

He waved his claws at her. ‘Hey, Chlo. Long time no see. Though if you really wanted to catch up with me, you could’ve just sent me a message online.’

Ladybug leaned in close to him, her voice low. ‘I think maybe you should take the kitten out of here.’

‘I concur, M’lady. And I think we could use some luck.’ He turned to their son, who put up his hands in alarm. Before he could protest, Cat was carrying him in his arms and flying by stick from rooftop to rooftop.

Hugo screamed again, like he had when his mother had scooped him into the air. He buried his face in Cat’s chest, clinging to him the way he used to as a small child, and suddenly Cat didn’t mind Marinette lying to him – didn’t mind the akuma – didn’t mind the danger, just as long as he had this moment. His son – needing him.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ he told him. ‘Like I said, I’m going to keep you safe.’

‘I know.’ Hugo gripped his neck tighter. ‘I feel really sick, though.’

‘Close your eyes, like you do when we go on a long drive.’

‘I am, but…is this why you were always on rooftops together?’ He seemed to be nattering away to distract himself from the heights.

‘Yep. We were chosen to hold the miraculous at your age.’ He’d thought he was so grown up at the time, but he’d really been a child wanting his parents, just as Hugo now held him for protection.

‘And when you jumped off that building? And you trusted Ladybug to save you? Ahh! You were in love with both her and Maman, but they were the same –’

‘I told you it was complicated!’

A shape swept past them. Humble Pie, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, just like him. ‘Heading home, Adrien? Funny, I was on my way there too!’

Before he could shoot her smart reply, she flew right past, like she…knew the way…even though he damn well hadn’t given her the address.

Cat leapt faster, chasing her – trying not to notice the way Hugo was now peering at him, like he was trying to work out who his father was.

Then Ladybug was with them again, swinging by yo-yo. ‘She knows where we live?’

‘Good thing you got the twins out of there!’ Cat threw back.

Ahead of them, Humble Pie whirled around and shot cherry sauce in his direction. He leapt to the left, narrowly avoiding it, and she cackled before flying ahead again.

In his arms, Hugo said, ‘If you got hit, what would you say? I mean, she already knows your identity, so…what else is there to worry about?’

Cat glanced sideways at Ladybug, who was holding a red and black spotted container, the shape of which was as eye-wateringly familiar as Chloe’s laugh. Ice shivered down his spine, and he nearly fell on his next leap. ‘Ladybug…why is she going to our address?’

‘How should I know?’ But her voice told him she had a very good idea.

‘M’lady – you’ve had our miraculous all this time. What else aren’t you telling me?’

She shook her head, hurling her yo-yo at the next rooftop. ‘Nothing. It’s impossible, anyway. It’s…we need to get home.’

They landed outside the apartment and ran to the door, where Cat set their son down.

‘Left your keys in your other pockets?’ Hugo mused, though he looked ashen and he was shaking.

Cat threw his hand in the air. ‘Cataclysm!’ The destructive energy felt good – especially in his state of mind. He pressed his hand against the door, watching it dissolve under his touch.

‘Fuck!’ Hugo leapt backwards. ‘What did you just –’

‘Get in,’ Cat ordered.

He took immense pleasure in the way Hugo immediately did as he was told. If he’d only known all along that his father had the power to destroy on touch….

Cat allowed Ladybug in first, before joining them in the living room. ‘She’s not here yet.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’ Ladybug headed for the hallway like she knew exactly what Humble Pie’s plan was.

At the end of the hall, the wall had been smashed in, and the door to the storage room stood wide open.

Another wave of dizziness hit. Marinette had been keeping more than just their miraculous over the years. The shape of her lucky charm….

She’d never given up being the Guardian.

‘Why are you just standing there?’ he shot at her.

His words woke her up. They started down the hall, when Humble Pie emerged, holding up the miracle box.

‘I did it!’ she screeched. ‘Hawk Moth took how many years to get his hands on this thing? And I got it for him right away!’ When she laughed again, it was the old Chloe laugh he remembered from school.

He wanted to say something. Make some witty reply. Attack her, even. But he was too stunned by the sight of that box – and her words.

I got it for him….

Then she hurled herself out of the apartment.

…for him….

Somehow his fists had curled up.

‘Maman…? Papa…?’ Hugo – right behind them – in danger.

‘Stay here.’ Cat tore down the hall, Ladybug at his side, hurtling through the blasted-out hole in the wall.

But in the sunlight, there was no sign of Humble Pie. Worse still…the chattering pies in the street were returning to their original human forms, looking confused and forgetful. Which meant….

‘She de-akumatised on her own,’ Cat said, his lungs burning.

Ladybug let out a heavy breath. ‘More like her master de-akumatised her when they had what they were looking for.’

Her master.

I got it for him….

He turned a sharp stare on her. ‘This was a set-up?’

She gave a weary nod.

‘How is this possible? You said Gabriel couldn’t come back to our reality.’

‘He can’t!’ She looked anything but sure. ‘Even if he could…I don’t know how anyone found out about the miracle box. Someone…someone gave us away.’

His stare turned cold. ‘Us? Up until a half hour ago, I didn’t even know there was anything to give away.’ The rage left him as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and he sagged with exhaustion. ‘You should throw your lucky charm. At least…fix our apartment. Walls are expensive.’

‘And front doors.’ She looked at him with frightened eyes, her cheeks dark with shame. Because this was her own humiliating secret – her regret. ‘Miraculous ladybugs,’ she said with little energy, and she threw the charm.

He turned away from her, a pendulum of emotions, swinging one way, then another. ‘You said we’d talk later.’

She licked her lip, knowing better than to reply. Understanding that later had come.

Then they leapt over their apartment building, landing at the front door again, where they knocked like strangers and a trembling Hugo let them in.