Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PART ONE: When Everything Comes Crashing Down

Ladybug sat at the top of the Eiffel Tower, legs swinging idly over the edge. Once, when she had first become Ladybug, looking out over the city from up there would have made her heart race, terrified that she would fall, but now that fear was nothing more than a distant memory: to fear falling with the powers she had was impossible.

…

She was falling. She was falling and her yo-yo was gone and she was about to detransform and she was going to die -

…

Her fingers gently brushed through Chat’s hair, his soft purrs drowning out the distant sounds of the city below them. 

…

All she could hear was the wind rushing past her, loud and thundering and painful , only occasionally broken by the shrill beeping of her earrings.

…

Moments like these, where it was just the two of them, always felt so right, they were the only time she felt like she could breathe.

…

She couldn’t breathe. The air was thin and she was falling and screaming and she couldn’t breathe . 

…

Being with Chat was peaceful. He understood her in a way no-one else did, even with the barrier of secrets between them. She trusted him implicitly, whatever happened, she knew he would be by her side.

…

She screamed for him, her voice lost to the wind. He was so far away, the top of the tower was falling further and further from her and he wasn’t going to come, he wasn’t coming to save her.

…

It was her and Chat against the world.

Always.

When people describe the end of the world, there's normally a moment of profound silence that punctuates it, when the world slows and everyone stops and takes in the fact that nothing will ever be the same.

It wasn’t like that. 

When Ladybug hit the ground with a blinding flash of pink light, all Alya could hear was screaming: reporters clambering to say their piece, the shouts of the fight above, her own cries joining the grating orchestra, as she watched her hero, her teammate, her best friend lie at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, bleeding and unconscious.

Ladybug was Marinette.

Ladybug was Marinette .

And now the whole world knew.

Chapter Text

It was weird how, after everything, Nathalie woke him in the same, routine way. 

Everything had changed, but at the same time, nothing had. 

The world kept on turning as if Ladybug, Marinette , hadn’t fallen. 

He should have caught her, he never should have engaged in a one on one battle with Hawkmoth, he never should have left her to fight alone, because they were stronger together, right? And yet every time it truly mattered, they lost each other again. 

And now the world knew that Ladybug was really Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Hawkmoth knew that Ladybug was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He still hadn’t processed it himself.

He’d stayed with her all of Saturday night, until her mum told him that his parents would probably be worried (they wouldn’t, but he couldn’t let her know that), and so he’d left before Nathalie could come in to wake him up.

He’d waited until after breakfast, watching the class group chat blow up as people woke up and saw the news. For once, he was grateful he didn’t manage his own social media accounts, because a quick glance at Twitter was enough to tell him his notifications were probably blowing up. 

Then he sent two texts to Marinette, one as Adrien, and one as Chat Noir, asking if he could come over; he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

He turned on his TV, then turned it off again when he realised that there wasn’t a single channel that wasn’t covering what had happened last night. He didn’t really need a replay of his best friend dying.

His best friend. Ladybug. Marinette .

It made sense, of course it did, Marinette was incredible. She stood up to Chloé, she looked out for the people in their class, she was kind and good, but cunning when she needed to be, and she was Ladybug .

Ladybug, who he had been head over heels for since the day he met her. His best friend who he trusted with his life, who knew him better than anyone else, without even knowing his name.

Marinette, the kind and confident girl in his class, who often stumbled over her words and tripped on air. His friend who had lied about stealing his father’s book so he could come back to school, who had gifted him her lucky charm because she was too humble to admit that she was just That Good at UMS.

When he had imagined their reveal it was intimate, just the two of them on a rooftop tucked away out of sight. They’d detransform together, and they’d be strangers but so, so familiar with each other that it would be wrong to call them that. Maybe she’d recognise him from his ads across the city, maybe he’d recognise her as a stranger he’d passed on the street, or a girl he’d seen around school. They’d carve out new spaces for each other in their civilian lives, stutter over some false story about how they’d met when their friends and family asked.

But he knew Marinette. He didn’t have to carve out a new space for her because she was already there, a pillar in his life with or without the mask. He almost knew her too well, because somehow he had such different relationships with both sides of her that it was hard to reconcile them into one person, to figure out where he would stand when he was both Adrien and Chat Noir to her, one person, not two. 

Would they have the deep trust and wordless communication that was so central to Ladybug and Chat Noir, with witty banter and a blurred line between platonic affection and something more? Or would they be awkward and walk on eggshells around each other, like Adrien and Marinette were used to doing? Would she blush and stutter and run away? Would he be left confused and slightly endeared? 

Would she even let him tell her? After everything, maybe she’d decide it was too dangerous. Maybe Fu had already taken her earrings, and she’d push him away in an attempt to  separate herself from what she’d lost.

He needed to move. There was an anxious buzzing in his veins begging him to run, to see her - but it was only 7:30. He didn’t want to intrude so early in the day, especially not when Sabine had told him to go home and rest less than an hour ago.

“Marinette is Ladybug.” 

He hadn’t been talking to anyone, just voicing his thoughts to the air, but Plagg cackled all the same, floating through his periphery with a block of cheese tightly grasped in his paws.

“Plagg,” he sat up on the sofa, staring at the kwami, “ Marinette is Ladybug .”

Plagg just continued to laugh, floating over to nestle into Adrien’s hair.

“Yep.” He scowled, of course Plagg would find it funny, he’d probably known Ladybug’s identity the whole time.

“Will Master Fu take away her miraculous?” Because he refused to be Chat Noir without her. He would protect her and her family from Hawkmoth, hell, he’d track down Hawkmoth himself if it kept her safe, somehow, but there was no world in which he would be able to do this without her by his side. 

Rena Rouge (who was Alya and Carapace was Nino and that made so much sense and he really needed to process that at some point but now was not the time) had managed to take Marinette home and transformed with the ladybug miraculous to fight off Hawkmoth and repair the city. But even in that half an hour fighting with her instead of Marinette, he’d felt out of sync, lost. They’d barely managed to win.

He couldn’t do this without her, Ladybug, Marinette .

“Sugarcube won’t let him, she’s as attached to Marinette as I am to camembert.” But as he said that, Plagg nestled into his hair, purring softly, and Adrien felt the affection the kwami had trouble expressing through words.

“Thanks Plagg.”

Alya switched on her phone, sending yet another message to Marinette’s mum.

She paced around her room, her feet were starting to ache.

Marinette was Ladybug. Holy shit. But she could deal with that bombshell later, when her friend wasn’t currently unconscious and the prime target of Hawkmoth .

It had been three hours since everything went down, three hours since Ladybug (Ladybug who was Marinette and how had she never seen it before) had fucking died after Mayura pushed her off the Eiffel Tower.

It had been two hours and fifty-three minutes since she had brought Marinette home (because Ladybug was Marinette and that meant that Marinette had died ) and Tikki had begged Alya to transform in her place.

It had been two hours and thirty-two minutes since she had cast the miraculous cure and revived Marinette (who had died because she was Ladybug holy fuck) and returned the miraculous to their rightful owner, who hadn’t woken up, even when the miraculous ladybugs had washed over her (and Tikki said she was fine and she would be alright but why hadn’t she woken up?).

It had been two hours and twenty-seven minutes since she had returned home after explaining to Tom and Sabine that their daughter was Ladybug, and Sabine had pulled her to the side and given her a knowing look and called her Alya, even though she was transformed, and promised to let her know when Marinette woke up.

She had messaged Marinette’s mum every five minutes since then, desperate for the reassurance that Marinette was okay and alive and hadn’t been attacked by Hawkmoth. To which Sabine responded with patience and kindness that Alya probably didn’t deserve after showing up with horrible news and proceeding to blow up her phone at five in the morning.

It was all her fault. She should have caught Marinette, should have moved quicker to shield her from Hawkmoth and the press, should have masked her with an illusion before anyone got the chance to see her face.

Instead she’d frozen. She’d let Marinette lie there and bleed out for all of Paris to see. It had taken Mayura approaching Marinette’s dead body for her to snap out of her shock and actually fucking do something.

“Alya.” She snapped out of her thoughts, surprised to see Nora stood in her doorway, looking half asleep and ready to punch someone, as was typical for her sister.

“I did knock but you didn’t answer.” Nora’s expression shifted into a teasing smirk, “Any reason why Cappy’s knocking at the door at seven am?”

Nino!

She didn’t respond, pushing past her sister and into the living room, where Nino was stood awkwardly at the entrance. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t have to, because they both knew, they’d both been there when Marinette had fallen off the tower. Nino rushed over to her, pulling her into a hug, resting his forehead against hers.

“It wasn’t your fault, Als. You did everything you could.” 

She didn’t respond, couldn’t, because if she did then she might cry, and that would give Hawkmoth a chance to akumatise her. She couldn’t do that to Marinette, not again.

She focused on the pressure of his arms around her, the warmth of his breath on her nose, anything to pull her out of her mind, anything to distract her from the overwhelming amount of feelings that were rushing through her head.

Nino held her tighter, like he knew what she was thinking without her saying a word. Or maybe he just needed the comfort as much as she did. Either way, she was grateful for his company, hugging him tighter in return.

“Ok flyweights, what’s going on?” 

Marinette still hadn’t woken up by lunch. 

Well, she had, kinda. When Adrien had shown up at the bakery at 10:00 to help fend off reporters and check up on her, Sabine had told him that she’d woken up briefly, panicked about being late to school in a sleep-deprived haze, and promptly gone back to sleep when told it was a Sunday, seemingly unaware of last night, although she was barely awake long enough to be considered lucid, so that wasn’t entirely surprising.

He sat on the Dupain-Cheng’s sofa, trying to make himself as small as possible as he waited for Sabine to come back down from Marinette’s bedroom. Tom sat across from him, his expression unreadable, and all Adrien could think about was Weredad, his ribs aching at the memory.

“I’m sorry for rejecting Marinette.” He didn’t know why he said it. That was a stupid thing to say. Tom would probably get akumatised again and then Marinette would have to fight her dad and that really wasn’t fair.

Tom looked at him with surprise, before he grinned, and Adrien found his worries slipping away, letting himself relax a little. “Well, Chat Noir, I’ve always been a bit of a Ladynoir shipper.” He could feel his cheeks getting hotter. Yeah, no, he really shouldn’t have said anything.

“Although, Marinette has a bit of a crush on this other-”

“Tom!” 

Adrien was incredibly grateful that Sabine had chosen that moment to come downstairs, because he didn’t really want to think about the other boy that Ladybug, Marinette , had been rejecting him for.

Tom apologised, though he seemed way too jovial to be sincere, and disappeared downstairs to get some hot chocolate and croissants at Sabine’s behest. 

Marinette’s mother sighed, taking Tom’s seat with a smile. “Sorry Chat Noir, he’s very invested in our daughter’s love life.”

He didn’t mention the fact that the whole of Paris was invested in Marinette’s love life- they still hadn’t gotten past the “Oblivio Bullshit”, as Ladybug had eloquently put it. Instead he smiled, “It’s okay, I’m still sorry about what happened last time I was here.”

“Don’t be. Tom is a grown man, he’s responsible for his own emotions, and I think you and Marinette are more than capable of figuring out your own relationship.” She paused, before sending him a shrewd look, “Did you know she was Ladybug then?”

He shook his head, “No. I thought…” Oh. Oh . 

Damn he was so stupid . He could practically hear Plagg laughing at him through the suit. Of course Marinette wasn’t a fan . She’d been nervous cause she’d just detransformed! He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, “I thought she was a fan .”

Sabine laughed, though not unkindly, “Tom didn’t realise it was her until Alya brought her home last night, I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself.”

He let out a sigh of relief, before freezing. Alya . According to Alya she’d spoken to Tom and Sabine after transforming with the ladybug miraculous. Either Alya was lying, or… and Sabine just said that Tom hadn’t realised, did she-

“Did you know? And how did you know Alya brought her back?”

Sabine took a sip of her tea, watching Adrien as he came to the revelation with a glint in her eye that was so familiar that he really should have expected it from Marinette’s mother.

“Marinette might think that she’s good at sneaking around, but you kids aren’t as subtle as you think.” She set her tea down carefully and gave him a knowing look.

Adrien felt his stomach drop, “Do- Do you know who I am?”

She paused, contemplating, before moving across the sofa to sit beside him. “I have my theories. But regardless of who is under the mask, you are Marinette’s best friend, and she loves you more than she wants to admit- not necessarily romantically-” she adds before his mind has a chance to wander- “but you are as welcome in this house as any of my daughter’s friends. I can’t thank you enough for everything you have done to keep her safe.”

There’s something so kind about her in a way that reminded Adrien of his mother, and something inside of him breaks.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t catch her. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep her safe this time.” And the guilt that had been quietly festering beneath the surface of his mind finally spills over. 

It was his fault. He had seen Hawkmoth and something had snapped and he’d ignored her when she told him they needed to work together. He had been so distracted he hadn’t noticed Mayura sneaking up on her and pushing her to her limits. He had been so terrified when she’d started to slip and no matter how much he tried he couldn’t move. He had let her fall. He had let her identity be revealed. And he hadn’t even managed to stop Hawkmoth getting away after everything.

He felt her arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. “You did everything you could, it wasn’t your fault.” And she repeated it like a mantra as she guided his head into her shoulder, hugging him like his mother used to when he was just a scared little kid.

He remembered when his mother had held him like this, back when he was a child. As time had passed it became harder and harder to recall her voice, her mannerisms, and he hated how much he had let her go. But in this moment, he heard his mother’s voice when Sabine spoke, her gentle hushes lulling him into memories of his mum, when he’d grazed his knee as a child and she had whispered in his ear, holding him tight until he’d forgotten his pain.

It wasn’t easy to forget his pain now. Instead of a small graze, Adrien was covered in deep scars, loss and fear and rejection cutting so deep he didn’t know if he’d ever truly heal, but as Sabine held onto him, he felt something within him click back into place, something that felt like home.

Chapter Text

She was falling. Wind rushing past her, hurried beeps of her miraculous barely audible over the pounding of her pulse and the static of the air. 

Then everything stilled. 

She wasn’t falling anymore, her feet suddenly grounded on a broken metal beam of the Eiffel Tower.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she felt herself beginning to crumble into ash.

He stepped out in front of her, icy blue eyes fixated on hers.

She took a step back, but he was there, too close, and he held her hand against his heart, pulling her back towards him.

She wasn’t crumbling away anymore, maybe she never had been, she wasn’t sure. Everything was shifting around her, blurred and distorted and all she could focus on were the piercing eyes in front of her.

And then she was falling again, but he was still there, pulling her down this time, his blue eyes never leaving hers, unblinking, unyielding, as they fell towards the concrete below.

“Look at what you’ve done-”

“-Marinette!”

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, groggily pushing herself to sit up. Tikki fluttered anxiously in front of her, looking up with concern.

Marinette was no stranger to nightmares, she couldn’t remember a single night that hadn’t been haunted by akumas and death and him , his blue eyes permanently burned into her memory. 

But it was just a dream. It was just a dream . Just a stupid dream .

“Are you okay, Marinette?”

She responded with a jumble of incoherent grumbles, far too tired to form proper words as she forced herself out of bed. From the way the sun filtered through her blinds, it was probably too late in the day for her to try and go back to sleep.

She made it halfway down her stepladder, before tripping over and falling flat on her face, although she did that often enough that it might as well be a part of her morning routine at this point.

Tikki flew down in front of her as she pushed herself off of the floor.

“Marinette? We really should talk about… what happened.”

What happened?

What had- Oh .

Memories of the fight forced their way to the forefront of her mind, blurred and hazy but enough to know that she had failed , that after everything she’d done she’d let her guard down and fallen and failed .

She scrambled backwards, her back hitting against the metal of her ladder with a spike of pain. This was bad, very, very bad. She remembered the crowds of reporters, the cameras , Mayura and Hawkmoth watching her- everyone had seen her fall, everyone had seen her fail , and everyone had seen who Ladybug was behind the mask.

After everything… She’d been so careful and it was all for nothing because now everyone knew who she was and Hawkmoth knew who she was and where she lived and he could steal her miraculous or attack her or her parents-

Her parents .

“MAMAN! PAPA!” She didn’t realise she was moving until she was halfway down the stairs to their apartment, only muscle memory stopping her tripping down them. 

She was vaguely aware of Tikki calling after her, but her mind was too busy racing through possibilities and worst-case-scenarios to hear what she was saying.

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, didn’t know how long Hawkmoth had had to akumatise her family, or kidnap them, or kill them, or hurt them, or- or-

“Maman!” Relief flooded through her at the sight of her mum standing in the kitchen- fine and okay and alive . Her mum hurried over to her, catching her at the bottom of the stairs in a tight hug. 

She allowed her mum to hold her like that for a moment, snivelling into her shoulder as her mum stroked her hair, hushing her softly. It had been so long since she’d last gone to her mum for support, too scared that she might let her secret slip if she allowed herself that comfort- but she needed her maman right now, needed the confirmation that she was safe.

“Are you okay?” She pulled away, searching her mum’s face for any trace of harm, “Is Papa okay? Has anything happened?” Her mum didn’t seem to be hurt, but perhaps Hawkmoth was holding her friends or grandparents hostage, or there was a mind control akuma, or what if Chat had… nonono if he knew her identity then maybe this was it, maybe he’d been akumatised and it was all her fault again and she had to find him before-

“Marinette.” Her mum’s voice was gentle, but firm, pulling her out of her mind, “Everyone is safe. Take a deep breath.” Marinette did as she was told, mimicking her mum’s breathing as she guided her through it, her mind slowing down, spiralling paused by the reassurance although her heart still pounded in her chest, anxiety surging through her in waves.

“How much do you remember from last night, sweetie?” Marinette bit her lip, unsure how to tell her mum that she remembered all of it, up to hitting the ground and passing out. It was just too much to put on her mum, how was she meant to tell her parents , her mother , that the last thing she remembered was… dying ?

Had she died? There was no way she’d survived a fall like that, not when she’d detransformed before her suit had time to absorb the impact… But surely she’d have felt something, right? Surely she couldn’t have woken up completely fine if she’d died ? Was this what it was like for Chat each time he sacrificed himself for her?

She shook her head, moving on, she could freak out about that later, “Enough to know everyone probably knows that I’m…” She didn’t want to admit it out loud, like saying the words “I’m Ladybug” would make everything real. Her mum seemed to understand though, giving her a gentle nod.

“And Hawkmoth probably knows as well, which means you and dad and grandpa and grandma are in danger, so we have to get you out of the city somehow, out of Hawkmoth’s reach…” She could probably convince Master Fu to let her use the Horse Miraculous to transport her parents to stay with family in Italy or Shanghai, Shanghai was probably better since it was further away, and then she just needed to make sure Alya and Nino and Adrien were protected, although Adrien had all that crazy security on his house, so it-

“We’re not leaving the city, Marinette” What? There was no way she’d heard that right. Her parents were in danger, Hawkmoth was going to come after them! She needed to keep them safe! “Chat Noir has watched over us today, and I’m not leaving my daughter to fight a terrorist alone.”

Chat.

He had seen her detransform. He knew who she was . 

“Now you’re breaking more than my heart, Marinette!”

“Wait, Chat Noir was here?” 

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know . She had to talk to him, had to… had to do something . 

“Give me a hug… Marinette!”

She couldn’t face him, couldn’t let that happen again.

Her mum smiled, unaware of Marinette’s panic. It was the same kind of sly smile she gave whenever Marinette mentioned Adrien and oh shit she could not deal with her parents shipping her with Chat Noir . Not now. “He still is, your father’s teaching him how to make croissants.”

Oh no . The last time Chat had met her dad had been extremely bad- she did not want a repeat of that , especially not when Hawkmoth was probably trying to get to her and would be looking for any opportunity to akumatise her family.

She began to move for the door, only to be stopped by her mum. “There are reporters outside and they’re being very loud, you can barely hear yourself think down there, I’ll go and tell him to meet you here, okay?”

Marinette wanted to say so much more, she wanted to cry and tell her maman everything, she wanted to apologise for lying and sneaking around, she wanted to tell her that she didn’t want any of this, that she just wanted to be Marinette, that the responsibility and the fear was crushing her, she wanted her mum to hold her again, to stay with her because right now she was terrified and needed the assurance.

But she needed to talk to Chat, so instead she nodded, letting her maman leave her alone in the apartment.

“Hey Tikki?” The kwami flew through the ceiling, landing in Marinette’s open palms, eyes wide and full of sympathy, “Is this- is everything going to be okay?”

Tikki didn’t respond, instead fluttering up to give Marinette the closest approximation of a hug the tiny kwami could. Marinette brought her hands up to cup her against her cheek, their embrace small, but just as meaningful as her mum’s had been.

Marinette swallowed back another sob, shaking with barely repressed emotion. In all her time as Ladybug, she’d never really been afraid . 

In the beginning, any fear had been drowned out by a tide of adrenaline, too caught up in the moment to stop and process just how much she stood to lose. 

Then it had become a game, every day was a new challenge for her to strategize and fight her way through- maybe it was her own way of coping, to trivialise whatever this was so that she wouldn’t have to think about how much danger she was in every single day, maybe she’d just become numb to the constant buzz of anxiety and adrenaline that kept her going, either way, nothing had ever felt real .

Between secret identities and magical invulnerabilities, the only thing at risk had been her and Chat, but even then, there had always been the safety net, the miraculous cure, that meant that nothing was ever permanent. Their scars healed, Chat came back to life, the city was restored, and everything was okay: to fear failure with the powers she had was impossible.

But then she had failed.

She’d lost to Mayura, she’d fallen, she’d failed to save the city.

Ladybug had always meant safety, a carefully crafted mask that protected her family, magical powers that protected the city, a suit that protected her from the reality of the war she was fighting. But Ladybug had fallen, and now all of that was gone.

She was Marinette, and Hawkmoth knew who she was and where she lived. She had fallen and failed and now her family would pay the price and there wasn’t anything she could do to protect them. Because no matter what happened next, Ladybug was gone. Marinette couldn’t hide behind the mask anymore, couldn’t compartmentalise her life and her fears, because whatever line had divided her and her alter-ego was gone now.

And Marinette was terrified .

When Chat Noir appeared, he was carrying a plate of burnt croissants with him, standing awkwardly in the door.

“Hey, M’lady. Marinette. Hi.” She winced when he said her name, uncomfortable with the conformation that he knew , that everyone knew who she was .

He seemed to notice, eyes nervously flitting around the room, searching for something to say, “I uhh… I think your dad might hate me for almost burning down the bakery?”

She didn’t really know what to say to that. It was so… weird standing in front of him as Marinette and Ladybug, she wasn’t really sure how to deal with this. It shouldn’t be weird though, right? He’d only met Marinette a few times, the only difference to him was that there was no longer a mask over her face. Still, she felt weirdly exposed without the suit, still in her pyjamas, hair loose around her face, terrified out of her mind.

“You can’t have been any worse than I normally am,” she let out a self-deprecating laugh, before remembering that he didn’t know how much of a clutz she was behind the mask, “I’m a lot clumsier without the suit.” 

She shuffled her feet, trying not to think about how awkward this was. Things were never awkward between them, she never felt so small and helpless when he was there, and yet for some reason, she didn’t feel like Ladybug right now, she didn’t even really feel like Marinette. She just felt lost and scared and confused, and now he was here and she had no idea how to deal with it.

“I know.” There was a teasing lilt to his words, and she might have felt some comfort in the familiarity of it if he hadn’t just implied that he knew her without the mask .

“Do you know me? Like, do you- or, well I guess, did you know Marinette before?” Because he had to, right? Because why else would he know her well enough to say that? The few times she’d met him as Marinette she hadn’t exactly been tripping over herself, and Marinette wasn’t well known by any means, so how could he know she was clumsy? Unless it had just been a slip of the tongue. Maybe her parents had been filling him in on embarrassing stories about her while she’d been asleep… She was jumping to conclusions, it was stupid to assume he knew her based on that anyway.

“Do you want me to answer that?”

Yes. Maybe it was selfish but she wanted to know, she didn’t want to be alone in this, she didn’t want to be separated by their masks now that hers had been torn away.

“... You can’t.” Because no matter how much she wanted to say yes, she couldn’t. Hawkmoth could akumatise her and force her to share Chat’s identity and she couldn’t let that happen, he deserved to be safe at least, no matter what happened to her.

An awkward silence fell over them, so unlike everything she’d ever shared with him and it hurt in a way she didn’t really know how to deal with. She wanted to cry and hug him and apologise over and over for failing and for letting the whole world find out after they’d promised to tell each other first. 

But she couldn’t do that, not while Hawkmoth was still around, because Chat could never know how much she cared about him, not when it could end in Paris being destroyed and him all alone, dressed in white.

“Are you okay?” He sounded so concerned and gentle, like he had when Stoneheart attacked and he’d stood by her side, supporting her even though she’d failed .

She didn’t know how to answer. There were so many feelings and thoughts in her head, like a bunch of people all trying to talk over each other and she couldn’t hear what any of them were saying. It was too much, too overwhelming, and she just didn’t know how she felt.

She hated not knowing.

“My face hurts. I tripped out of bed earlier.” She gave a weak laugh, the feeble attempt at humour was probably ruined by her red eyes and shaky voice. It wasn’t what he was asking, but she didn’t know if she would be able to hold herself together if she answered him seriously. And she couldn’t fall apart, not when she had already failed, not when Hawkmoth was probably waiting for the chance to akumatise her.

“That… wasn’t really what I meant.” 

“I’m fine! Amazing!” And maybe if she spoke with enough conviction it would be true. “Sure, Hawkmoth knows who I am but I can just return the miraculous back to Master Fu and then everything will be perfect again and my family and Paris will be safe so really there’s nothing for me to worry about!” 

She didn’t want to give it up. Tikki was her closest friend, the one being she could trust completely, without any fear or secrets. And if she gave up her miraculous, she would probably lose Chat and the thought of that terrified her because she couldn’t begin to picture a world without him. 

“My Lady-”

“And my dad won’t hate you!” That didn’t matter right now, she knew it didn’t, but it was the one thing she could do something about, the one thing she could fix . “I mean, he seemed to like you a lot better after the Weredad thing and I’m sure if he had a problem with you now you would know about it!” That wasn’t the right thing to say. That was such a stupid way to put it and now Chat would hate her and he’d get akumatised and the world would end and why had she phrased it like that? “So don’t worry, there is absolutely nothing to be worried about! Everything is fine!”

It had to be. She couldn’t be upset right now, she couldn’t let him know how much she wanted to fall apart because then everything would go wrong and she’d already failed once before and she couldn’t do it again and-

“Marinette-”

When had she started crying? When had the air gotten so thick? Why couldn’t she just breathe? How had she been Ladybug when she couldn’t even deal with her stupid problems without getting worked up?

“Everything is fine.” It came out more like a desperate plea, like a whispered call for reassurance.

The plate of croissants clattered to the floor, his arms wrapping around her before she had the chance to process the fact he’d moved.

She sunk into his arms like she had so many times before, calmed slightly by the sound of his heart. His bell chimed softly, the sound comforting and familiar and safe . 

“I don’t know what to do Chat.” The confession burned at her throat, she was Ladybug , or at least, she had been, so why did she feel so useless, so lost? 

“We’ll figure it out together. You and me against the world.”

And she held him tighter, terrified that if she let him go, she might lose him again, because they’d made that promise before, repeated the words like a mantra, and yet they’d split apart, she’d fallen, and now she wasn’t sure she believed it when she replied.

“Always.”

Chapter Text

Nadja Chamack had been the one to reveal Marinette’s identity to Paris.

Maybe, had Clara Contard been reporting on the fight instead, Marinette would have had a little while longer before the people of Paris were able to identify the girl behind the Ladybug mask.

But Nadja hadn’t been able to stop herself calling out Marinette’s name when she’d been revealed, live on the TVi breaking news report, and it had taken less than an hour for people to leak Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s full name, address, school, friends… any information they could find, to the press.

And so now she sat at her desk, hot under all the lights on the stage, wrestling with the desire to keep her job while not wanting to hurt the Dupain-Chengs any more than she already had.

Part of her wished some other reporter could take her place; she, like most other Parisians, had speculated about the heroes’ identities before but she had never considered that Ladybug would be a girl she knew, her daughter’s babysitter, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Still, the world had to go on, and she would rather handle the issue than let someone with no connection to the Dupain-Chengs take her place. At least she could shield the family to an extent.

“Good morning Paris.” She didn’t open with her usual tagline, it felt too light-hearted for the weight of the situation.

“This morning Ladybug and Chat Noir defended the city from another attack from Hawkmoth, only this time, Hawkmoth and Mayura entered the fray themselves. While our heroes were able to win, this morning’s battle was ended at a great cost to Ladybug, who’s identity-”

She hesitated, glancing down at the sheet of notes her producer had thrown at her when she’d arrived. People had identified Marinette already, but this report would be the first official source to confirm Ladybug’s identity. She didn’t want to bear the responsibility of outing Marinette to Hawkmoth, but if she didn’t then another presenter would.

“ -who was revealed to be fifteen-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng. ”

An image of Marinette flashed across the screen, one Alya recognised from her own Instagram account.

She felt sick. 

Some part of her had hoped that Marinette would go unrecognised, that even though she had been seen detransformed, no one would really know who she was, but Marinette was far too impressive for that. She had featured on a TV show with Jagged Stone and designed his album cover, been a part of Clara Nightingale’s music video, appeared occasionally on Adrien’s Instagram and had won his dad’s hat design competition.

And she was all over the Ladyblog. The number one source of information about Ladybug, and Marinette’s name and face were all over it. As Alya’s best friend she’d helped out with editing videos or recording theories from time to time, and that didn’t even cover the countless social media posts she featured in. If Alya had just been more private with her blog, then maybe people wouldn’t have tracked down Marinette’s identity so easily, but instead, people were using her social media accounts, her blog, to expose her best friend.

Her stomach twisted, because if it had been anyone else, anyone but Marinette under Ladybug’s mask, then she probably would have been exactly the same as the people stalking and doxing Marinette.

The realisation made her feel even worse.

She’d always thought journalism was a force of good, honest and expository, bringing information to the people. How could the pursuit of the truth be anything other than good ?

But maybe if she hadn’t run after Stoneheart, maybe if she’d stopped before she’d grown such a huge following, maybe if she hadn’t got so caught up in the fantasy as Rena Rouge, then she wouldn’t have handed Marinette’s identity to Hawkmoth on a silver platter.

She ran her fingers against the cold metal of the fox miraculous- she’d given it back to Chat Noir after the battle, when she’d been returning the earrings to Marinette and ran into him there, but when he’d seen her detransformed he’d pushed the miraculous back into her hands.

She didn’t really know what to make of that.

She’d left him there with Marinette, and once she’d returned home and dropped her transformation, Trixx had flown off, saying they needed to talk to someone.

Apparently Wayzz had done the same.

But she couldn’t dwell on it right now, couldn’t even ask Nino what he thought, because her entire family were sitting around her, fixated on the TV screen.

“Marinette is Ladybug?” Ella spoke up first. “That’s so cool!”

It wasn’t cool. Marinette didn’t deserve this, she was amazing, and now she was in so much danger and it was all Alya’s fault.

Ella and Etta were running around, screaming and cheering and celebrating as if Marinette wasn’t now the main target of a superpowered terrorist who was set on stealing her earrings at any cost.

It wasn’t fair to be annoyed at them, they were too young to understand.

It still hurt though, to see them so happy when everything was so fucked up and wrong.

Nino combed his fingers through Alya’s curls, watching her stare blankly at the ceiling as she lay in his lap.

They were in her bedroom. Nora had taken Ella and Etta out to the park to give Alya some space and her parents were at work, so the flat was empty, but they chose to stay hidden away in her bedroom: for some reason it felt safer, more closed off from everything.

Neither of them really knew how to process any of this.

Ladybug was Marinette. As in, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the shy girl in his class who had become one of his closest friends over the last year and was clumsy as shit and somehow worse than he was at confessing to her crush, was Ladybug, confident, badass superhero who was probably the last person to trip over her own feet. 

And the whole of Paris knew this.

Alya blamed herself, which didn’t make any sense, but he knew she didn’t believe him when he told her that. All he could do was hold her close, repeating the same assurances under his breath and trying not to let her spiral.

He wasn’t doing a great job, mostly because his own mind was a mess.

Marinette was Ladybug. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool .

His friend, his clumsy, slightly awkward friend was a badass superhero and that was cool and awesome and not at all fucking with his brain.

Marinette had died. She’d been brought back by the miraculous ladybugs, but she had died . He had no idea how to process that, so he locked that information away with the memories of the countless times he and Alya and his family and friends had all died in akuma attacks. He’d deal with it all someday, when Hawkmoth was gone, but until then, he wouldn’t think about it.

And Hawkmoth knew Marinette , or at the very least, he recognised her. 

He hadn’t told anyone yet, he didn’t really know how to or what to say, and he didn’t want to freak Alya out any more than she already was. But when Ladybug had fallen, Chat had rushed after her and Chloé had tried to go after Mayura and Alya had been on the ground already but Nino had been there, hidden, on the first level of the tower with Hawkmoth and he’d heard him say Marinette’s name .

They’d been too far away to clearly hear the shouts from the reporters down below, so unless Hawkmoth was a major Jagged Stone fan, or religiously followed Gabriel Agreste’s design competitions, he had to know Marinette. 

Which meant… He didn’t really know what it meant for Marinette or Paris, he just knew it was probably bad.

He really should tell Alya.

How the fuck was he meant to bring that up though? Marinette was Alya’s best friend, however hard this was for Nino was nothing compared to what she was going through, he couldn’t drop this on her, not when there was still a chance of Hawkmoth just being really into rock and roll.

But who else was he meant to tell? Chat Noir? He was also far too close to Marinette (well, Ladybug, but same difference) to take the news well.  

He could always speak to Chloé, but she was probably throwing up at the knowledge that Marinette was Ladybug, and the chances of her wanting to help Marinette were next to zero. Besides, he couldn’t talk to her until Wayzz returned and he could transform again anyway.

Maybe he could handle this himself? Take a page out of Alya’s book and do some investigating? There were only so many people Marinette knew well enough to recognise her from almost sixty metres away, surely it would be easy to narrow down Hawkmoth’s identity from that, right?

That being said, that kind of research really was Alya’s forte, maybe he should talk to her about it.

Alya let out a shaky breath, curling further into his arms.

He could always talk to her about it later, when she wasn’t so overwhelmed.

He continued combing through her hair. He hated that he was probably the only person on their team who had a shred of composure right now- he was friends with Marinette, but he’d never been as close to her as Alya and Chat Noir, and the thought of Chloé remaining unbiased towards Marinette was laughable. For now, he’d have to step up and do the logical shit, try to keep his emotions on hold so the others could process theirs while he came up with a plan.

He did not like being logical or responsible or dealing with anything this serious.

Perhaps by some insane miracle, Marinette would be completely composed and okay and able to be their “Everyday Ladybug" and deal with all this instead.

He almost laughed out loud at the thought. As much as he loved his friend, there was no universe in which Marinette wasn’t going to freak out over all of this. In the most affectionate way possible, she was a mess.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted his train of thought. The sound itself barely drew his attention, it was the way Alya jolted against him, clearly startled by the noise, that broke Nino out of his musings.

“Do you think we should answer it?” She looked up at him, and he could practically see all the paranoid thoughts racing through her mind. It was unlike Alya to be anxious, she was brazen and over-confident, rarely second guessing herself; it was weird to see her like this.

Then again, everything today had been weird .

“I’m sure it’s fine, let’s leave the catastrophizing to Marinette, yeah?” He gently nudged her off of his chest, trying to smile encouragingly, although it probably looked more like a grimace than anything; he was an amateur director and not an actor for a reason.

She nodded, pushing open her bedroom door and leading him into the living area of her flat.

Two kwamis hovered in the middle of the room.

The tension in Alya’s shoulders dissipated and she rushed over to greet Trixx. A similar wave of relief washed over him as he bumped fists with Wayzz, feeling safer in the presence of the tiny gods. The bracelet on his wrist wasn’t just an accessory anymore, but a source of power, a way of protecting him and Alya should a threat appear.

A sharp cough interrupted their reunion, and Alya pushed him behind her as they spun around to see an old man stood in the entryway.

“Rena Rouge. Carapace.” He felt Alya tense up beside him as the man addressed them, his own heart racing at the fact that this man knew their identities. 

The kwamis flew over to the man's side, seemingly unconcerned, although that didn’t do much to ease his mind, he didn’t know enough about the kwamis to know if they could recognise how dangerous this could be.

The man gave Wayzz’ head a gentle pat, before turning back to them.

“I am Wang Fu, Guardian of the Miraculous.”

“This tea is quite delicious.”

It was the first thing he’d said since the kwamis had confirmed he was chill and Alya had reluctantly invited him to sit on the sofa. She’d left him with the old guy while she made up a pot of tea, which was awkward as hell, but now she sat beside Nino, their kwamis flitting between the guardian and the two of them.

“It’s just from E.Leclerc.” He could hear the stress in her voice, and squeezed her hand in his, trying to offer her some form of comfort.

The man- Fu- hummed dismissively at Alya’s impatient tone, “Even so.” 

The man took another sip before placing the cup down, looking up at him and Alya with a suddenly much more severe expression. “I’m sure you are both aware of the danger Marinette is in.”

Nino felt Alya tense beside him, before nodding. He’d been trying really hard not to think about that side of things, it was much easier to think about how crazy it was that Marinette was Ladybug than consider the fact Hawkmoth was probably going to try and hurt her.

“Under normal circumstances, I would take back the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses and take them out of Paris. It’s imperative that the miraculous are kept out of Hawkmoth’s reach and now that Paris knows Ladybug’s identity, I cannot guarantee that the miraculous are safe.”

Alya scoffed, “That’s ridiculous! You’re just going to run away and leave Marinette at Hawkmoth’s mercy with nothing to defend herself with? What about Paris?”

He understood her anger, the idea that this guy wanted to leave Marinette and their city without protection just to keep some jewellery safe? Since when did bracelets and hair combs matter more than people’s lives?

“Like I said, under normal circumstances , I would have done that. However this situation is… complicated. Even without Tikki, Marinette is valuable to Hawkmoth- the knowledge she has about the Miraculous and their secrets needs to be protected at all costs, even if I took the earrings away, she would still be in danger.”

The old dude sighed, taking another long sip of his tea. “That being said, I cannot leave the miraculous with her completely unprotected. I am aware that Chat Noir has been watching over Marinette and her family, but he cannot continue to do so alone.

Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe, I am leaving you with the Miraculous of the Fox and the Turtle so that you can work with Chat Noir to protect Marinette and the Ladybug Miraculous until Hawkmoth has been defeated.”

Holyshitholyshit , they were getting their miraculous full time!? Awesome! His excitement was subdued by the context, but he still felt a sudden thrill at the idea of being able to keep the bracelet. And if Alya’s expression was anything to go by, she felt the same.

“We’ll keep Marinette safe dude- Sir!” 

Fu nodded, smiling for the first time since he’d arrived. Nino had never been great at reading people, but there was something sad about it, though he had no idea what that might mean. Maybe he was worried about Marinette, or the miraculous? Maybe he knew something they didn’t? Nino shook the thoughts away, it wouldn’t help to be worrying about the cryptic intentions of some random old guy.

The rest of their conversation passed as awkwardly as it had begun, with Alya interrogating Fu about the miraculous and how they could help Marinette, and the guardian dude remaining tight-lipped about everything.

It made Nino uneasy: this random guy was trusting them with insane superpowers, but refused to tell them anything that might help, claiming it was “too dangerous” each time Alya questioned why.

They were teenagers, surely someone older than them could handle this responsibility? But instead this guy was choosing kids to take on a supervillain and refusing to give them any information that might help them. 

Nino hoped that Marinette and Chat Noir had been given a little more guidance at least.

Still, Marinette clearly trusted him, and she’d been the one to give him and Alya their miraculous, so maybe he was just being paranoid.

Perhaps this was the guy he should talk to about his theories around Hawkmoth’s identity. Wayzz and Trixx and apparently Marinette all considered him the “Guardian”, whatever that meant, so he was probably like, their boss or something. If anyone knew what to do, it was probably him.

But he was just so sketchy and closed off, and if he was the person responsible for handing out the miraculous, Nino didn’t really want to say or do anything that might change this guy’s mind. Maybe if Fu thought Hawkmoth knew Marinette, he’d take back her earrings and that would be a fucking mess.

Nope. No way was Nino trusting this guy, not until Marinette or Chat Noir explicitly told him he could. As far as he was concerned, Ladybug had always been the leader of their team, if some random old man wanted to show up and officially give them their miraculouses, cool, but he wouldn’t trust anyone but Marinette or Chat Noir when it came to the safety of Paris.

Eventually Fu finished his tea, and Alya got up to show him out.

He watched them from the sofa. Wayzz flew over to have a final, hushed conversation with the man before Alya led him to the door. She paused before opening it, turning to look down at Fu.

“For full transparency, if it comes to choosing between Marinette and her miraculous, I’m choosing her.”

He couldn’t see the old man’s face, but his voice was soft when he replied. “If I didn’t have the responsibility I do, I would choose the same.”

Wang Fu sighed as he left the apartment, unconsciously stroking the wrist where his Miraculous had once sat. He didn’t want to leave the Miraculous with those two, not when the Ladybug Miraculous was in so much danger.

Really, he wanted to take all the Miraculous out of the city; as much as Hawkmoth needed to be defeated, the protection of the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous was much more important. He couldn’t do that though, because retrieving the Ladybug Miraculous without giving Hawkmoth an opportunity to steal the earrings was nearly impossible.

And so he needed to ensure that Marinette was protected, so that if Hawkmoth tried to attack her there were other people to keep the Ladybug Miraculous safe.

Still, he didn’t know if he was making the right decision. The Earrings of the Ladybug were in great danger… Although he supposed they had been since he’d left them with Marinette, and if she could hold her own against akumas, then she should be able to protect the Miraculous should Hawkmoth attack her directly.

And maybe part of him was worried that Marinette would be hurt if he left her without Tikki- if he were a better guardian, maybe he wouldn’t have let that cloud his judgement.

He sighed again as he began walking towards Le Grand Paris, preparing to speak to the next Miraculous holder on his list- Chloé Bourgeois. 

When Marinette’s face appeared on her computer screen, Alya almost cried.

Her best friend looked like shit, with red eyes and messy hair and still in her pyjamas despite the fact it was four in the afternoon- but she was alive. Awake and alive and okay, and that was all Alya cared about.

“Hey Alya.”

Her voice was flat and tired, lacking the usual bubbly energy that made her Marinette but that was okay because she was alive .

“Marinette!” Nino appeared by her side, waving at Marinette through the screen, his other arm wrapped gently over Alya’s shoulders, “How are you, dude?”

“Hey Nino. I’m…” Marinette paused, glancing over her shoulder and wrapping her arm over her chest- a gesture Alya was too familiar with. It was something she always did when Chloé was being a bitch, or she was nervous about talking to Adrien, or when she felt uncomfortable . Her stomach twisted. Did Marinette feel uncomfortable talking to them? Was it even fair for her to be upset if she did? It had been Alya’s fault she was in this situation to begin with.

Marinette shook her head, plastering on a forced smile, “I’m fine. How are you guys?”

“Good.” It was a lie. She’d felt sick all day worrying about Marinette, but she couldn’t put that on her, “We spoke to the Guardian of the Miraculous.”

Marinette was so still for a moment that Alya thought the screen was frozen, until she let out a shaky sigh, “I knew he’d want my miraculous back but I kinda hoped he’d talk to me about it. I’ll give Tikki back as soon as I can.”

She was crying. Marinette was crying and Alya hated that she couldn’t be there to give her friend a hug in person- she’d tried to go over earlier, after Fu had left, but there had been so many reporters outside the bakery that it had been impossible to get to the front door without being harassed or questioned.

“Marinette, he doesn’t want to take away your miraculous.”

She nodded along with Nino’s words, a little frantically- god she felt so weird , so out of control. Alya was rarely anxious or frantic or even stressed, but the past twelve hours had felt like someone had turned off the lights, leaving her to fumble around in the dark, worried about everyone and everything with no way of knowing what was going on or how she could fix it.

Was this what it was like for Marinette all the time? She’d mentioned her anxiety before, and Alya had been as sympathetic as she could, but she hadn’t understood what it meant to feel that crushing weight in her chest until today.

“He’s letting me and Nino keep our miraculous- basically he wants us to protect you and act as backup in case something happens.” She was surprised by how level her voice was. “Tell your cat to come talk with us at some point, cause Alya Césaire has a 10 step plan to kick Hawkmoth’s butt, but I’m gonna need his help with it.”

She definitely did not have a plan, but if it took some of the burden off of Marinette then she would do everything she could to come up with something.

“I’ll let him know.” Marinette looked off into her room, smiling softly, and holy shit was she blushing? At the mention of Chat Noir? And maybe this wasn’t the time to fangirl about Ladynoir, but it was a distraction, a facade of normalcy after everything that had happened. 

She felt her worries ease a little, focusing on something that wasn’t the miraculous or Hawkmoth or Marinette’s safety for the first time today.

“So?” She raised her eyebrows, calling Marinette’s attention back to her.

“So what?”

“Has anything changed between you and M.Noir? Give me the scoop girl!” The teasing felt so familiar that she could almost forget that the reason she was teasing her friend about Chat Noir was because everything had fallen apart. She clung to the familiarity of it, desperate to alleviate the crushing weight on her heart with any distraction she could find.

“Nothing’s changed Als, he’s my best friend, that’s all- Wait! You’re my best friend too, I didn’t mean to suggest you weren't- you both are!” 

“It’s fine Maribug… I’ll just sit here, unwanted, alone…” She flopped to the side, trusting Nino not to let her fall off her chair, and threw her hand across her face dramatically.

“I’m literally right here babe!”

Marinette laughed- it lacked the endless energy she normally had, but she was laughing! Giggling at the display and Alya felt the pressure in her chest dissipate. 

“Maribug?”

“Yeah, like Marinette and Ladybug! I thought about Ladynette, but it isn’t really you, y’know, and I think Buginette should stay reserved for your ‘friend’.”

When Marinette let out a shout in protest, Alya grinned. 

Marinette would be okay, Alya would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

“Mlle.Bourgeois! Queen Bee! What are your thoughts about Ladybug’s civilian identity?”

Chloé spun around, she wasn’t entirely sure which of the ridiculous reporters outside the school had asked the question, but since they were all being stupidly loud and giving her a headache screaming about Dupain-Cheng , they all deserved the glare she sent their way.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng is annoyingly good at everything and disgustingly nice. That’s all the praise I’ll give her.” She had to resist the urge to vomit as she complimented Dupain-Cheng. Really, Marinette better be grateful that she hadn’t told the world how utterly ridiculous she was.

…But Chloé had been there, she’d grown up with the press hounding her and her family, she’d been harassed by reporters for weeks after becoming Queen Bee, so sue her if she felt the teeniest, tiniest bit of sympathy for Dupain-Cheng. 

Besides, she owed Ladybug a lot, even if Marinette was ridiculous.

“Don’t you peasants have anything better to do than harass a bunch of school kids? If you don’t leave, I’ll get daddy to get you all fired.”

Some of the reporters with a shred of human decency backed down, but most of them remained, still calling out to whatever students they could. There had been similar crowds when she had become Queen Bee (not as large as the group of people here for Dupain-Cheng and she wasn’t bitter about that at all ) but clearly they hadn’t learnt their lesson when she’d sued a bunch of them for harassment and trespassing last time.

She sighed, pulling out her phone and miming calling her father, making sure to speak loudly enough that anyone nearby could hear, “Daddy!”

A lot of them had the sense to leave at that, thank god. 

She didn’t care about Marinette. She didn’t . That would be stupid and lame and Chloé was neither of those things. No, Chloé was only trying to get the reporters to leave because she didn’t want to listen to them… Obviously .

Besides, her reputation would probably be ruined if people found out she hated Ladybug, so it was really in her best interest to help Dupain-Cheng.

(and maybe some part of her, some tiny, ridiculous, utterly irrelevant part of her, realised that it was Marinette who had given her the bee miraculous again and again and again, it was Marinette who had told her she had a purpose, it was Marinette who had saved her life in Stoneheart’s attack)

No. She didn’t like Marinette. Full stop. End of discussion. Moving on.

“Hey Chloé.” She perked up at the sound of Adrien’s voice, turning her back on the lingering reporters. She’d been wondering if he would show up today, since he was friends with Marinette, for some reason.

Adrien looked like crap. She felt slightly bad thinking about her childhood friend like that, but it was true! His hair was messy, there were bags under his eyes and she couldn’t even bring herself to look at the slouchy clothes he was wearing. Honestly she was surprised Gabriel had let him out of the house like that.

“Adrikins! Did someone die? You look awful!” He winced, and okay, yeah, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say; Marinette had probably died the other night. Chloé hadn’t really stuck around, she’d gone after Mayura to keep her away from Ladybug after she’d fallen, but with a fall like that she doubted Marinette would be alive without the miraculous cure bringing her back.

But whatever, it was Marinette , and there was no way Chloé cared about Marinette . She was only helping her because she wanted to keep her miraculous, obviously . Besides, everyone else in Paris had essentially died at some point or another, what was the point in being sentimental about it?

“Anyway, I need to talk to you and your lame friends at lunch.” She started guiding him inside as the press seemed to have spotted “The Adrien Agreste” and decided that whatever gossip they hoped to get was worth the lawsuit Chloé threatened them with. 

Whatever, she’d just have her father press charges against them all later. They deserved it for giving her a headache shouting about Marinette of all people.

“My friends aren’t lame, Chlo.”

“Whatever, I want to talk to them. Anyway, are you okay Adrikins? I know you like Marinette for some unfathomable reason, but she’s Ladybug- apparently - she can handle whatever happens.”

She didn’t know how much she believed what she said, Marinette seemed incapable of taking a single step without tripping over herself, but Ladybug had given her a chance when no one else had, Ladybug had given her the bee miraculous even after she’d messed up, and Ladybug was Marinette, which meant that Marinette had done those things, which meant… 

Ugh God she was such a goody-two-shoes, being nice to everyone for no apparent reason and giving Chloé more second chances than she probably deserved.

Whatever, Ladybug or not, Dupain-Cheng was still a loser, she wasn’t about to start worshipping the ground she walked on or anything…

“I know she can, she’s just in a lot of danger right now… I’m just worried.”

He looked so sad and miserable. It reminded her of the way he’d looked after his mother had gone missing; she’d been there for him then, crying and binge watching shitty TV and trying her best to comfort him.

She didn’t know how to be there for him now though; they’d grown apart over the past year, no matter how hard she’d tried to cling to him, but she was nothing if not stubborn and no amount of distance could stop her from trying.

She brushed her fingers over the comb in her hair. Some random old man had shown up yesterday telling her she could keep it if she helped to protect Marinette. She’d been reluctant to agree, conflicted between her hatred for Marinette and love for Ladybug, but at Adrien’s miserable expression, she made up her mind.

“Marinette will be okay, I’ll make sure of it, Adrien.”

Adrien’s gaze softened and something swelled in her chest, she wasn’t entirely sure what, but it felt good, like the way she’d felt when Ladybug had comforted her and assured her that she wasn’t useless, like the way she felt when she’d fought by Ladybug’s side on Heroes’ Day.

She’d protect Marinette, for Adrien, for herself, and for Ladybug .

Nino was never normally early to school. He was never late either, but arriving more than a few minutes before the bell only meant having to wake up earlier and sit awkwardly in a half empty classroom for ages. No, he preferred being on time, never late enough to draw attention to himself, never early enough to feel awkward.

Alya, on the other hand, hated being on time. Sure, she was a spontaneous person, perfectly happy to change plans in the heat of the moment, but she didn’t like missing out on the gossip. Even if the only “gossip” she got by getting to school so early was a sneak peak at Nathaniel’s comic, or the results of Alix and Kim’s latest bet.

So it was weird that she had asked her parents to hold off on giving them a lift to school so that they would arrive as close to the first bell as possible.

But then again, this weekend had been several kinds of fucked up, he didn’t blame her. She had been reluctant to go in at all. It was only after he had received a call from Adrien, who was being forced to go in and didn’t want to face the gossip and rumours alone, that she had agreed to come to school. They’d face it together.

And so that’s how he found himself running through the empty halls with Alya, both desperate to make it into class before the bell, both later and in more of a hurry than they’d ever been. 

There had been crowds of press and reporters outside the school screaming at them when they’d arrived. Alya had looked pissed so he’d dragged her away before she could say anything, brushing aside his own discomfort at the situation.

Several other kids tried to speak to them in the hallways, risking getting a late just to get exclusive news about Marinette. Alya had chewed out a few of them, passive aggressively telling them to mind their own business and if Nino was blushing at the sight of his girlfriend being so protective and confident and kind then he was well within his rights, he loved how passionate and loyal she was. 

God she was amazing.

Eventually the hallways had emptied and they’d been free to sprint around the school to try and make it to form on time.

Alya paused outside their classroom door, just as the bell rang out. “This feels weird.”

She sounded so small. It wasn’t like Alya to be scared, but he understood. Something had changed and it cast this shadow over everything. Nothing bad was gonna happen, probably, unless Hawkmoth decided to show up and hold them all hostage to get to Marinette- but he wasn’t thinking about any of that. 

Nothing bad would happen , but something had changed and that made everything feel so, so much heavier.

He took her hand, forcing a soft smile as she turned to face him. He hated how worried she looked. “We’ll face this together, for Marinette! Would she give up now? No! She’d come up with some convoluted, seventeen-step plan to face the day, so we’re gonna do that too!”

He pulled his cap lower to cast a dramatic shadow over his eyes, dropping his voice in an imitation of a noir detective, “Step one, we open the door-” 

Alya rolled her eyes, the corner of her lip twitching in amusement. Good, he wasn’t always the best at pep talks and feelings, but maybe his dorky role-play would cheer her up enough to face the day.

“Step two: we sneak up to our seats. It’s imperative we don’t get caught.” The bell had gone off, but just barely. Mme.Bustier probably wouldn’t even class it as a late, Marinette had rarely gotten in trouble when she walked into class half an hour after the bell, and for as many of her absences could be explained by akumas, there were probably just as many where she’d simply slept in.

“Step three: say good morning to Agent Mayo.” Alya snorted at that, and Nino felt his chest swell seeing the genuine smile on her face.

“Agent Mayo? Is that Adrien?” He nodded, maintaining his hardened detective act, which only made Alya laugh more, “You are such a dork.”

Her lips brushed his, his cap tilting awkwardly as she did.

“I love you Als.”

“I love you too.”

His hand rested on the cold metal handle of the door, though his eyes never left hers.

“Ready?”

The corner of her lips shifted into a slight smile as she tightened her grip on his hand.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Caline Bustier had been concerned about Marinette for a while. The girl was constantly missing classes, showing up late, or leaving halfway through lessons, using weak excuses and obvious lies to avoid explaining where she was. 

And then Ladybug’s identity had been revealed, and whatever concerns she’d had were tripled.

But Marinette would be okay, she was strong, with endless amounts of conviction and courage, and as much as Caline worried, she knew that Marinette would be okay in the end. 

The rest of her class though…

They had been sitting in silence since she had arrived, exchanging glances but never actually saying anything. She didn’t blame them, she didn’t even know where to begin today, no matter how many times she had gone through the lesson plan with Giselle trying to figure out how to tackle the elephant in the room with as much tact as possible.

So she let them gape at each other while she waited for the bell to ring, beginning to draft an email to Marinette’s parents to arrange a meeting with them. She had no idea how to start it, “sorry your daughter’s been putting her life on the line for the last year, also she’s failing all her classes” had absolutely no tact or professionalism or care, and she really wasn’t sure what the best approach here was.

Thankfully the bell rang, sparing her from having to deal with that for another couple of hours at least. She drank the last of her coffee, standing up as Alya stepped into the room, a strained smile on her face and dark circles under her eyes, followed closely by Nino, who’s cap was pulled low over his face in a way that made her worry he was crying.

Honestly, she hadn’t been expecting them to come in, both of them were usually sat in their seats by the time she arrived in the classroom. Really, she’d been expecting to teach an empty classroom today, with how close everyone was to Marinette, but then again, she wasn’t entirely sure what reason they would have to not come in. Only Lila was missing, but with all her responsibilities, that wasn’t surprising. Either way, she didn’t intend on teaching them anything today- the weekend had been hard on everyone, she wasn’t going to make it harder by forcing them to do work.

Nino tipped his cap back to say hello to Adrien, and she was relieved to see he wasn’t crying under it, although he had the same dark circles as Alya- actually Adrien did as well, she supposed Marinette’s friends had all been worried for her.

She would need to speak to them all at some point. Especially Adrien; from what she knew of his home life, she doubted he had much- if any- support right now.

Alya and Nino’s arrival did little to absolve the tension in the room, and Caline had no idea how to begin the day, so she turned to the whiteboard behind her, taking her time to write out the date as she struggled to find a way to tackle the situation at hand.

“Hey Alya,” Alix was the one to finally break the silence, and Caline let out a sigh of relief as she turned back to face the class. “Have you heard from Marinette?”

Alya shared a look with Nino, before she nodded hesitantly, “She’s alright, tired mostly, although she was calling on her computer, since someone leaked her number and her phone is kinda blowing up, so she’s switched it off for now.”

Caline pursed her lips, she’d need to speak with Marinette’s parents about that, encourage them to go to the police if they hadn’t already. The idea that someone would do that to a fifteen year old was horrible. She’d always felt people were too comfortable crossing boundaries with Ladybug and Chat Noir- she’d kind of hoped that realising it was a real person under the mask would make them back off, but if the crowds of people outside the school this morning were any indication, the opposite was true.

There was a general noise of understanding around the class, before the same awkward silence fell back over them. There was so much here, no one really knew where to begin, so Caline decided to begin her “lesson” for the day.

“That’s good to hear Alya. Now, this weekend has been quite… eventful,” she cringed at her own wording, “I know we’re all worried about Marinette, but it’s also been difficult for everyone in the city, don’t feel ashamed to ask for help if you’re struggling or need someone to talk to. It’s okay to be scared or overwhelmed right now.” She didn’t mean for her gaze to drift towards Adrien, Alya and Nino, but it did, and the three ducked their heads, probably realising that whatever mask they’d been trying to wear hadn’t managed to hide their anxiety.

“In the meantime, I suggest we spend today making a video for Marinette that we can send to her, since I’m not sure when she’ll be returning to school. That way we can share our support, while giving her the space she needs to process everything.”

“Like what we did for Adrien the other week! That’s so sweet, Mme.Bustier!”

Rose’s enthusiasm was contagious, and soon her whole class were speaking up in agreement, from Juleka and Nathaniel’s muffled comments, to Alya’s impassioned compliments. Even Chloé seemed somewhat engaged with the idea, or at the very least, wasn’t vocally opposing it.

A soft smile pulled at her lips as her students fell back into themselves, the tension in the air shattered.

Alya took charge, coming out of whatever subdued state she’d been in to work with Nino to direct the rest of the class. Rose sat with Nathaniel, feeding him ideas for stickers and overlays they could edit into the video, until Ivan and Juleka had stolen her away to compose a short song with Juleka’s brother on a call. Adrien was waxing poetically about Marinette, which half the class were squealing excitedly about as they filmed him. 

It was good to see them all brighter than they had been this morning.

They spent the day working on the video, with the class sitting in the best imitation of a circle that the classroom would allow. She didn’t bother scolding them for sitting on the desks like she probably should have, she was just glad to see them smiling and working together.

Her class was interrupted a few times throughout the day, as people from other classes would show up, looking for Marinette. It wasn’t surprising- when Adrien had started the school his fans had swarmed him in the corridors for months- but she was disgusted by it nonetheless. She’d expected other students in the school to be respectful of the situation, even if the wider world refused to view Marinette as a person, but apparently not.

When she finally dismissed the class for lunch, she was pleased to see them all chatting and joking somewhat normally, even if there was still a palpable air of anxiety around them.

“We’re going to the Palace for lunch.” 

He’d forgotten to mention it to Alya and Nino earlier, too caught up worrying about Marinette. His father had insisted he went to school today, and the hours away from Marinette’s side were spent on edge, terrified that in his absence Hawkmoth might attack.

Chloé hadn’t given them room to argue, grabbing Alya’s wrist despite her protests and dragging her to her limousine, followed swiftly by him and Nino.

They’d been swarmed by the press outside the school, flashing cameras and microphones shoved in their faces. Adrien was used to it, blocking out the noise and refusing to acknowledge reporters was as natural to him as breathing: as Adrien and Chat noir, he’d always been the centre of attention and he hated it, but after years in the spotlight, he’d learnt to let it fade into the background. 

This was different though, because people were asking about Marinette , Ladybug, intruding into her life. A part of him understood the fear, the need for reassurance and answers, but he still bristled each time a reporter asked “What can you tell us about Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”, or demanded his opinion on her as Ladybug.

It had taken every bit of self restraint he had not to snap at them.

But Chloé had shoved them into her car before he’d had a chance to act impulsively, and for once he was grateful for his old friend’s entitlement as she threatened the reporters harassing them.

“What do you want Chloé? ” Alya practically spat out Chloé’s name the second they were in the privacy of the limo. 

He noted the foxtail pendant hidden under her shirt, the turtle shell bracelet that sat unassuming amongst the various bracelets and bands around Nino’s wrist, the obnoxiously obvious bee comb holding back Chloé’s hair, and let out a sigh of relief. Marinette had told him Alya and Nino were keeping their miraculous when she’d ended her call with them last night, but seeing the miraculous in person was comforting regardless.

“I told you, we’re having lunch at Daddy’s hotel.”

Sabine had sent him home at midnight, but he’d snuck back into Marinette’s room at her request less than ten minutes later, both of them terrified to leave each other’s side. Being so far from her now made his heart race, a constant, crushing worry that Hawkmoth might take advantage of his absence to strike.

“ Why? ”

He was only half listening to the conversation as he stared out the window, alert to anything that might imply that Hawkmoth had finally made his move.

Chloé rolled her eyes, idly picking at her nail beds, “Listen, I don’t like Dupain-Cheng-”

“Shocking.”

“- but I’m Queen Bee, so I guess I have to step up and save her sorry ass from Hawkmoth, and since you’re all her poorly chosen friends- except you Adrikins- I want you to help me.”

She’d mentioned something earlier about protecting Marinette, but he hadn’t thought she actually had a plan.

Alya scoffed, her annoyance was palpable, “Yeah, okay no, how are you gonna help Marinette?”

“Daddy’s working with the police to get her a room in the Palace to use as a safehouse, and as your fabulous superhero, I will be guarding Ladybug to make sure she doesn’t die or whatever.”

Alya looked ready to shout again, and Nino looked annoyed as well, so he spoke up before either of them had a chance to lash out, or reveal their identities or do something equally reckless. “That’s a great idea Chlo.”

“Of course it is. We can discuss the details over lunch, but your job is to make sure none of the losers in our class get akumatised over this. Dupain-Cheng will probably mess up if she has to fight any of her dumb friends.”

Adrien bit back the protest he had at Chloé criticising Marinette. Arguing with Chloé wouldn’t help anyone, she would just get annoyed and probably akumatised, and it wasn’t like he necessarily disagreed with Chloé’s plan, he just wished she could be nicer when sharing it.

Alya rolled her eyes, “Well you’re not really helping by calling everyone ‘dumb losers’.”

“Yeah, which is why it’s your job, Césaire. And no one can know Dupain-Cheng is staying at the Palace, you three aren’t stupid enough to get akumatised again, but I don’t trust the other nerds not to get upset over this.”

“As if you haven’t been the cause of most of their akumatisations!”

He wondered when his reflex reaction to hearing people raise their voice had become scanning the area for butterflies. He spared a glance to Chloé, who didn’t seem visibly upset by Alya snapping at her, and prayed that Alya would be able to calm herself down before Hawkmoth noticed.

“Do you want to help Ladybug or not?”

Alya looked ready to snap again, but Nino spoke up before she got the chance, “Dude, why do you want to help Marinette?”

“Look, I hate Dupain-Cheng, but I don’t really want Hawkmoth to destroy the world or whatever, so I’m willing to compromise and play nice until she gets her head out her ass and defeats him.”

To anyone else she might have sounded bored, but Adrien knew Chloé. They’d grown up together. He’d been with her when she’d lost her first tooth, when she’d been gifted M.Cuddly, when she’d come home from her first day at school, and he’d been there when her mother had left for New York the first time, leaving Chloé without even a goodbye. 

She was worried, trying to hide it beneath passive aggressive comments and feigned disinterest, but she was just as scared as the rest of them.

It didn’t excuse her cruelty, he knew it didn’t, but he also knew that behind her carefully crafted mask, Chloé cared.

“Anyway, I’m going to need that dumb fox hero to help get Marinette and her family to the Palace without anyone knowing.”

Alya’s breath hitched, Nino tensed up beside her, Adrien felt a lump form in his throat as Chloé sent her, Alya, Rena Rouge, a pointed look.

Was she allowed to know? He wasn’t sure what the rules about identities were now, since Ladybug had always been the one to set them, but then again, he was Chat Noir, her second in command, surely he was within his right to set those rules for the temporary heroes that aided them? He really didn’t want to make that call though, not when Marinette was already stressed out of her mind.

Before he could say anything, Chloé continued, seemingly oblivious to the sudden change in mood, “You can use your blog or whatever to get a message to her, right?”

“R-right. I’ll do that. I’ll get a message out to Rena Rouge.” Adrien winced, praying that Chloé wouldn’t pick up on how nervous Alya seemed at the mention of her alter ego, but his childhood friend was simply picking at her nail beds, the same disinterested expression on her face.

“Of course you will. Tell her she needs to cover Marinette and her family with an illusion while they leave the house or something, I don’t know, she can figure out the details, that way the press and Hawkmoth won’t know she’s gone anywhere.”

Adrien had to hand it to Chloé, she was smart when she wanted to be. Normally she used that intelligence to torment people, so he was pleased to see her using it to help Marinette, even if she could phrase things in a more polite manner.

“That’s… actually quite smart.” He could hear the pain in Alya’s voice as she complimented Chloé and had to bite back a laugh. It reminded him of when he and Ladybug had to work with Chloé or Queen Bee, and Ladybug had always seemed so strained and forced in her appreciation of Chloé’s skills. Not that he blamed her, Marinette was more than entitled to dislike Chloé, after everything his old friend had done to torment her, but it was still amusing to see the similarities between Marinette and Alya.

Finding out Ladybug was Marinette was like the last piece of the puzzle slotting into place. He knew Ladybug, he knew her mannerisms and quirks and tics, he knew the convoluted way her brain worked and the innate creativity she held, he knew her kindness and her passion and her sense of justice and her love.

He hadn’t ever known why though: he hadn’t ever known that she got her humour from her father, the witty banter and jokes she returned his puns with were so obviously a product of Tom’s playful nature; he hadn’t ever known that she got her passionate sense of justice and kindness from her mother, her drive to do good and help those in need was mirrored in the care Sabine had shown him yesterday; and he hadn’t ever known that it was Alya’s courage and motivation that pushed Marinette to become Ladybug in the first place, or that so many of Ladybug’s quirks and mannerisms were a product of a close friendship with Alya, the two of them had rubbed off on each other in the year they’d been friends.

It made him wonder how much he had influenced Marinette, as Adrien and Chat Noir. Was he a part of her life in the same, inextricable way Alya and her parents were? Or was he just her classmate, or partner, someone she could work with and bear and maybe enjoy spending time around, but whose name she would forget if he ever left?

While he’d never been massively close to Marinette, he still thought about her often, still considered her someone important in his life. Maybe that was his isolation speaking, maybe he was just so desperate for any connection that he clung to people who barely cared about him, but regardless, he had cared about Marinette. A lot.

And Ladybug… He loved Ladybug. She was his first real friend after Chloé, the first person who had cared about him, real him, since his mother had died. They were Ladybug and Chat Noir, and nothing could come between them.

There were still moments though, like when they’d talk in vague terms about their lives behind the masks, or when she’d rush off to the guardian without filling him in, when he’d wonder if he meant as much to her as she did to him.

The car came to a stop outside Le Grand Paris, whatever barely civil conversation Alya and Chloé were having didn’t quite meet his ears.

There was no use in worrying about that, not yet. Sabine had told him that Marinette did care about him, and surely Marinette wouldn’t have asked him to stay last night if she didn’t.

For now all he could do was be there for her, and if after Hawkmoth was defeated she pushed him away, well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had forgotten him.

“Good evening Adrien.”

Plagg was the Kwami of Destruction, almighty being of Devastation and Chaos, he had seen apocalypses, the end of planets, and personally killed the dinosaurs. The lives of mere mortals were beneath him, he had seen and done too much to care for such small beings in any meaningful way.

“G-good evening father. Are you joining me for dinner?”

Adrien Agreste was the exception.

His kid was soft and nice, like the inside of a gooey piece of camembert, although his rind wasn’t as thick as it could be: Adrien was far too sensitive and kind for this world. But that was fine, he had Plagg now to protect him- even if there was little he could do most of the time.

Plagg was often careless with his power (so long as the Universe didn’t end, what did it matter?) but he was rarely intentionally reckless. Despite what Mlle.I’m-so-good-and-follow-all-the-rules-Tikki might say, he normally had a good reason to use it.

And using his ultimate power of Destruction on Adrien’s deadbeat dad would be fully justified, if only Adrien didn’t insist otherwise… So instead Plagg settled for aggressively glaring at Gabriel’s stupid red trousers from where he was hidden under the dining table, contemplating whether Adrien would figure out it was Plagg’s fault if the man mysteriously vanished in his sleep.

“I saw the news about Ladybug .” Plagg’s ears twitched, there was something in the way he said ‘Ladybug’ that was just off . “Mlle.Dupain-Cheng is in your class, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Marinette’s one of my friends.” Adrien sounded so different talking to his dad, all formal and cautious and weird. Plagg slipped into Adrien’s overshirt, pressing against his kid's side in the closest approximation to a hug he could give.

“You will not publicise that fact, Adrien. In fact, it’s best you sever all ties with Mlle.Dupain-Cheng; I will not have you associated with her or the danger she’s in.” 

Plagg knew an infinite number of languages, and yet none had the words to describe how much he hated Gabriel Agreste. How fucking dare he order Adrien around like that? His own son? 

Plagg was Destruction, and he could feel the threads of Entropy in the air, his element as tangible to him as the rest of the physical world was to mortals, all he’d have to do was say the word…

“But father!” He felt himself move as Adrien stood up suddenly, pride surging through the kwami as his kitten shouted back at his father. “Marinette needs me and-”

“As long as Hawkmoth is around anyone associated with Ladybug is at risk. You will do as I say, Adrien.”

There was a moment of silence, before Adrien sat back down, head hung, anxiously twisting his Miraculous under the table.

“...Yes father.”

Plagg was going to Cataclysm Gabriel Agreste, even if it meant he destroyed the Universe in the process.

Chapter Text

Marinette pressed down on the pedal of her sewing machine a little harder than was strictly necessary, letting the humm grow louder in an attempt to block out the crowds outside.

It didn’t work.

She’d stupidly assumed that the reporters would have left last night, accepting that if she and her family hadn’t said anything by then that they wouldn’t be getting a statement at all. Instead the crowds had grown.

“Marinette.”

She fed the scrap of fabric through the machine, scowling when the cheap material tore. She had been planning on buying some new fabrics that weekend for the dress she wanted to make, but her Saturday had been spent coming up with another convoluted plan to confess to Adrien, and Sunday had been…

“Marinette!”

No. She wasn’t thinking about that. Right now she just needed to figure out the right thread tension for this stupid fabric. Or maybe she could switch out the colours to a fabric that wouldn’t be so annoying? She did have a couple feet of blue-

“ Marinette !”

Marinette’s stomach dropped, adrenaline spiking as she noticed the concerned expression on her kwami’s face. “What is it, Tikki? Is there an akuma? Hawkmoth?”

There was an uncomfortable itch under her skin, a constant paranoia that had been looming over her since she’d woken up the day before. It was only a matter of time until he attacked, it was only a matter of time until she lost.

Tikki’s expression softened, “Everything’s fine Marinette. I’m worried about you .”

“Why?” She knew why. “I’m fine!” She wasn’t. “I’m just keeping myself occupied until Chat comes back tonight.” That was true at least, but she knew that probably wasn’t what Tikki wanted her to say.

Tikki looked like she wanted to argue, but Marinette sent her a pleading look, desperate to avoid the conversation everyone kept trying to bring up. She knew she needed to talk about it, but if she did she would probably cry again and she was lucky Hawkmoth hadn’t taken his chance to akumatise her yesterday. 

It was only a matter of time until he did.

“It’s okay to not be okay, Marinette.”

Tikki moved towards her and she flinched away in spite of herself. It wasn’t fair, Tikki knew why she couldn’t be upset, and she knew that her kwami was just trying to help but all it did was remind her of the stakes.

“Is it? Because if Hawkmoth akumatises me then all of Paris is doomed- maybe even the world- and it will have been all my fault! And for some reason Master Fu wont take back my Miraculous which is just putting me and my family and the whole city at risk! So no Tikki, I have to be okay, because this is so much bigger than me and I will not let Hawkmoth win!”

A soft snap punctuated her words as her foot slammed onto the pedal of her sewing machine, the needle breaking. She hadn’t meant to get so upset, she wasn’t allowed to.

It was only a matter of time until he akumatised her.

“I’m so sorry Marinette.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, she didn’t know how to feel either. Part of her wanted to scream and cry because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Master Fu had put this on her, it wasn’t fair that Hawkmoth knew who she was, it wasn’t fair that her friends and family would be caught in the crossfire, it wasn’t fair that she was fifteen years old and responsible for the fate of the world.

But life wasn’t fair. She had to deal with it, plaster on a fake smile and push down her problems and force herself to be okay. She had to be fine, for her family, for Paris, for the world. 

Who she was as a person, her feelings, her fears, none of that could matter until Paris was safe again. Marinette could suffer, Marinette could be hanging on by a thread, Marinette could fall away so long as Ladybug was able to defeat Hawkmoth in the end. 

It had been fine before, when she could compartmentalise her life into neat little boxes and hyperfocus on low stakes drama and crushes to avoid her bigger issues. But now that wall had been broken down, she couldn’t do that anymore. Even if she survived Hawkmoth, nothing would ever be the same again, she’d always be Ladybug to the world: she wouldn’t be able to hang out with her friends without the world tracking her every move; she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without the pressure of her duty as Ladybug following her; she wasn’t even able to go downstairs in her own home without reporters screaming at her through the bakery windows.

She wondered if this was what Adrien felt like, the weight in her stomach growing heavier at the sight of all his pictures plastered on her walls.

She got up, discarding her failed project and broken machine, and began tearing them down.

“Marinette? What are you-”

“It’s not fair Tikki! Adrien never gets a moment to just be himself, he’s constantly putting on a front, he’s never gonna be able to just be myself- I mean, himself!”

She tore another poster down, accidentally ripping this one in the process. The broken pieces of paper floated down to the floor.

“All these reporters and fans follow him everywhere… and I’m just as bad, aren’t I? I idolised him, obsessed over him, all because it was easier to pretend my biggest issue in life was my crush!”

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? She’d used him, obsessed over her stupid crush, because she wasn’t strong enough to deal with her problems. She was still using him, focusing on stupid, irrelevant things to repress the overwhelming terror that burned through her.

“But Adrien’s my friend! I can’t keep treating him like this! And I can’t-” She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t deal with people chasing after her in the same way, putting her in the spotlight. She just wanted to be Marinette, a normal girl- but she couldn’t . She knew she couldn’t. When she’d put her earrings on, she’d made her choice, could she really be upset with the consequences?

(some part of her knew she’d only been thirteen when she’d first become Ladybug, she hadn’t understood then, she didn’t know what she was signing up for, she hadn’t exactly had a choice either, not when denying the earrings would lead to the destruction of Paris.)

“I don’t want this Tikki.” 

She sank to her knees, staring blankly at the torn up photo of Adrien. She didn’t want any of this, she didn’t want to be Ladybug , she didn’t want to be known , she didn’t want to feel .

“It will be okay Marinette.”

It wouldn’t. Nothing could ever be okay again. 

She couldn’t admit that though, couldn’t let that be more than a passing thought, not when Hawkmoth could akumatise her, not when the fate of the world was in her hands.

She was so tired. So, so tired of always putting up a front, always teetering on the edge of a breakdown but never truly being able to feel, to let go.

She’d been tired for so long, but there had always been a light at the end of the tunnel, the knowledge that one day she would defeat Hawkmoth and everything would go back to normal.

Now though, even if she won, she wouldn’t get her happily ever after.

Did she even deserve that? She had failed, she had fucked up and broken the number one rule, and now Hawkmoth was closer than ever to getting her Miraculous, and when he did…

She couldn’t afford to think like that. She had a duty to Paris, even if she’d already failed in some way. She had to keep fighting, even if she didn’t want to, even if it put the people she loved in danger, even if she died in the process, because she was Ladybug, she was the only one who could save them.

And right now, she needed to calm down. If she got akumatised…

Blue eyes, white leather, the soft chime of his bell, the cold of the water, her own body crumbling to ash.

She couldn’t get akumatised. She couldn’t be upset. She was fine. Everything was fine . She could figure this out.

Tikki hugged her cheek, “Marinette, breathe. In-”

The kwami made an exaggerated inhale, prompting Marinette to do the same. She could do this. She just needed to hold herself together until Chat came back, then they could figure this all out.

“-and out.”

For a moment all she allowed herself to focus on was Tikki’s gentle instructions and the sound of her own shaky breaths. She had to hold herself together. She had to be okay. She couldn’t let Hawkmoth take advantage of her emotions.

She supposed it was the kwami’s millennia of wisdom, or maybe it was the fact that Tikki was the physical manifestation of Creation and “putting things right”, but her presence was able to somewhat sooth her raging mind.

She still felt the lump in her throat and the tightness of her chest and the buzzing beneath her skin, but she was able to relax enough that they had faded slightly, only a little worse than the constant anxiety she was plagued with.

A knock echoed around her attic room, her mum’s patient voice muffled by the trapdoor between them. 

“Marinette?” 

“Yes, Maman?” She plastered a smile on her face, falling back into her practised façade as her mum pushed open the trapdoor.

“Could you come downstairs for a bit? There’s someone here to speak with you.”

Marinette shuffled uncomfortably on the sofa, choosing to stare into the half-empty mug of hot chocolate in front of her instead of the woman seated on a wooden chair that had been pulled over.

Her parents were sitting on either side of her, attempting to offer comfort, instead it just made her feel small, helpless, like a scared little kid who needed her parents to protect her.

“Mlle.Dupain-Cheng.”

They’d sent a vaguely familiar official, a woman in her thirties, who had introduced herself as the Commissioner of Police, Renée Clair. Marinette had rarely interacted with the police in her time as Ladybug, only occasionally conferring with officers on the scene of attacks to help her protect the citizens, but she had seen enough press conferences regarding the akumas to know this was one of the people responsible for ensuring the police force hadn’t interfered with her and Chat’s work.

Another officer she didn’t recognise stood by her front door, seemingly there as a security detail.

“It’s nice to be able to officially meet you, Ladybug, after everything you’ve done for the city. I wish it had been under better circumstances.” The words were kind enough, but there was a bite to them that reminded her of Adrien’s father and his assistant and their cold professionalism- it didn’t make her feel any better.

“There are several things we need to discuss, your safety is currently at risk, and under normal circumstances we would organise protective measures for you and your family which would involve moving you out of Paris, however I presume you understand why we are hesitant to do that.”

Marinette nodded, as far as Paris was concerned, she and Chat were the only ones capable of stopping Hawkmoth. Sure, she could pass on her Miraculous, but the Commissioner didn’t need to know that; if she did, she’d probably try to take the earrings and pass on the responsibility to someone else, which could put the Miraculous in Hawkmoth’s reach. It was better to keep people in the dark about the specifics of her powers.

“That being said, we have a responsibility to ensure you are protected. I have spoken with the mayor, and he has offered rooms within Le Grand Paris for you and your parents away from the public eye. All his staff will have to sign non-disclosure agreements in order to keep your location hidden from the public.”

Chloé’s dad had offered them rooms in his hotel? That was… weird, there was no way Chloé would have allowed that… But then again, Chloé had proven herself time and time again as a hero, even if she was still a bit of a bitch, and while she didn’t like Chloé, she trusted that she wasn’t stupid enough to put the city at risk over an old grudge… Well, she was at least seventy-five percent sure, but Chloé probably wanted to be Queen Bee more than she wanted revenge on Marinette, so she could always play that card if things went to shit.

Either way, it was better to have some semblance of security at Le Grand Paris than be exposed here, at the very least, her parents would be safer with the amount of security at Chloé’s hotel.

Although she doubted an NDA would stop Hawkmoth, considering he terrorised Paris on a daily basis he probably wasn’t overly concerned with legal threats.

The Commissioner was still talking but Marinette didn’t hear any of it, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to care about whatever details the Commissioner was sharing.

“I would also like to discuss your… responsibilities as Ladybug.”

She snapped back to attention: if the Police Préfecture decided that she shouldn’t be Ladybug anymore, then Marinette wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do, she wouldn’t be able to protect her parents, her Miraculous, herself and all of Paris from Hawkmoth if the Police were working against her.

“Until this point, no one was certain of your age, however now that we are aware that you are a minor, there are certain things we need to consider.”  

That was stupid, people had to have known they were kids before, right? She wasn’t entirely sure how the Quantum Masking of the Miraculous worked, but surely it couldn’t convince two million people that her and Chat were adults.

“The state has a responsibility to protect all people from harm, especially children, and knowing that you are actively putting yourself in danger means that we have to do something to prevent that and keep you safe. That being said, we cannot defeat Hawkmoth without your powers.” 

That was… good? Maybe? She didn’t have time to process it fully before the woman continued, “To be completely upfront with you, Mlle.Dupain-Cheng, we are also concerned about the politics of this situation. If we were to officially recruit you and work with you, then the Police Préfecture would be actively sending a minor into a fight against a terrorist, the implications of which could be detrimental-”

“I’m sorry? My daughter’s life is in danger and you’re worried about your reputation?” Her dad shifted in his seat, barely restrained anger in his words. Her papa was not an angry man, and the tension in his voice set her on edge. If he was upset, if Hawkmoth decided to capitalise on his pain… 

Marinette didn’t know if she could fight her dad, not now.

“I’m concerned with the ethics of sending a child into a warzone, a concern the public shares, which could lead to more akumatisations, putting the city and my office in even more danger.” Her words were equable, but the apathetic way she spoke did little to calm her dad, who was practically shaking.

“Papa, it’s fine. Don’t - Don’t get upset over this, please.” A silent plea in her voice, I don’t want to have to fight you.

From the sudden guilt in her dad’s eyes, she knew he’d heard it.

He curled in on himself, shuffling slightly in his seat to put a small amount of distance between him and Marinette. She knew he was trying to protect her, she knew he didn’t want to hurt her, but knowing didn’t stop the ache in her chest, the reminder of how much she had fucked up and ruined everything when she’d fallen off the tower.

The Commissioner cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to the conversation, “I’m also aware that the city needs Ladybug , regardless of my opinions on allowing Marinette to fight. The Police Préfecture will not stand in your way, we will do what we can to keep your family safe, and aid you in battles, but for the sake of maintaining public trust in the police force, the official assistance we give ends with the work we do to protect your civilian identity.”

That… That was fine, she could work with that. 

“So the official help is putting Marinette in some kind of witness protection program, but Ladybug is left alone?” she clarified, hoping that her voice didn’t let on the sheer amount of anxiety that buzzed through her.

She didn’t know whether she had succeeded in keeping her voice level, because the Commissioner replied in the same steely, slightly patronising voice she’d used the whole conversation, “Not alone, unofficially, all my officers are willing to help you with whatever you need, and the police force will continue to run its own investigation into Hawkmoth that you are free to aid us with if you believe you can.”

It seemed redundant to clarify, since that had always been the official stance of the Police Préfecture. So long as she and Chat didn’t directly break the law or disregard the police, the police would let them get on with their mission, but there was no official agreement in order to preserve the reputation of the state and not encourage vigilantism.

“Just make sure the public thinks me and Chat Noir are vigilantes?” Which kinda contradicted the whole idea of discouraging vigilante activities, but whatever, the politics of all this were the last thing Marinette was worried about right now.

“Legally speaking, you are.”

“Right.”

She felt her dad shift back towards her, her mum’s hand rubbing circles on her back, both her parents very obviously fighting back whatever comments they wanted to make. Some part of her wished they wouldn’t, she didn’t want to deal with this, she’d rather be a kid again, letting her parents sort out her issues while she remained blissfully ignorant.

But that time had long passed. She was Ladybug, and the safety of Paris was a burden she and Chat Noir were meant to carry alone. 

“On the topic of Chat Noir: up until now we haven’t pursued any interest in your identities, however knowing that you are a minor gives us reason to believe the other heroes may be as well, and for their safety we need to know who they are.”

What . Absolutely not. Surely she couldn’t think Marinette was stupid? Sure, she’d failed but that didn’t make her an idiot, and it definitely didn’t mean she was going to to risk handing Paris to Hawkmoth on a silver platter.

“I don’t know Chat Noir’s identity, and I won’t ask him to tell you.”

“Mlle.Dupain-Cheng, this is a matter of security-”

“And Chat and the others are safest if no one knows. At least until Hawkmoth is defeated.”

The Commissioner’s eye twitched slightly, any trace of annoyance past that was carefully hidden, but it was Marinette’s duty to recognise negative emotions, even in the people who showed them the least- if she could prevent an akuma before it happened then Paris might get half a day of peace once every blue moon.

She didn’t seem overly annoyed though, so Marinette didn’t bother trying to compromise further. It was bad enough that she had suggested the Commissioner might be allowed to know after Hawkmoth was defeated, but she could deal with that then.

A moment passed as the Commissioner seemed to debate pushing further, before she sighed, conceding.

“Very well. I would also like to know if there is someone who gave you those earrings. I understand the need for secrecy, however there are several things I would like to talk to them about if there is an organisation or individual responsible for giving this power to you.”

“No.” There was no way she was letting the government get their hands on Master Fu or the Miracle Box, whatever their intentions, it was too dangerous to let that much power fall into corrupt hands.

“Marinette, you are a young girl, and I don’t say that to be patronising, but you aren’t old enough to understand the severity of certain things. If there is someone who gave you the Miraculous, then they are responsible for putting you, a child, in the direct line of fire of a superpowered terrorist, and I cannot allow them to endanger other children in the same way.”

That was bullshit! She was young, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Master Fu hadn’t forced her to accept the Miraculous, he hadn’t even been involved until she’d thought she had a lead on Hawkmoth’s identity! Sure, she was in danger, but Master Fu had done what he’d had to do to make sure Paris was safe. Besides, she had no idea who Hawkmoth was, if he was connected to the police or the government, then he could discover Master Fu’s identity, and she wouldn’t let that happen.

“This is bigger than that. If Hawkmoth finds-”

“After Hawkmoth is defeated then? Will you answer my questions then?”

No. She wouldn’t. But she didn’t want to make an enemy of the people who ultimately made the choice as to whether her and Chat Noir were breaking the law or not, better to stay silent and let her make her own assumptions than potentially end up outlawed (she was probably overreacting, but still). 

“Never mind.” Exasperation made its way into the Commissioner’s voice as she sighed, flipping over the pages of her folder and recomposing herself before she moved onto the next point. “The final thing I wanted to discuss with you is the issue of the press. We can issue statements and have police guard you as much as possible, but we cannot do much about them if they aren’t breaking any laws. We’ll leave you information on issuing restraining orders should you ever want to pursue that, but for the most part all I can offer is advice. The press are looking for a story, they’re looking for answers, and in my experience they won’t move on until they get them. We can help you issue an official statement, or set up a press conference, but try not to give in to the pressure and end up saying something you regret, especially not when you have such a big target on your back.”

She was right, Marinette begrudgingly conceded, at some point she would have to address what had happened. Maybe she could try and arrange an interview with Alya… She didn’t really want to though.

She nodded, zoning out again as the Commissioner continued talking to her parents. She was tired, she hadn’t really noticed until now, but the conversation had brought forth an aching exhaustion, her body and mind so tired it hurt .

How long had she been fighting now? How long had she been defending Paris? She had drifted away from her family, built a wall of lies between her and the people she loved, overworked herself to the point of constant exhaustion, all to try and protect her city, her home.

Yet somehow, after everything she’d done, it was all for nothing, because she had failed , and now Hawkmoth would win.

Marinette curled up on the sofa of their room at Le Grand Paris. By some miracle they’d managed to get to the hotel undetected by the press, though Marinette suspected Alya had something to do with that, and so she found herself relaxing slightly, free from the shouts of reporters outside her bedroom window.

It was weird being at Chloé’s hotel, but it was better than the Commissioner sending her outside of Paris. Chloé had shown up briefly to clarify that it had been her idea for Marinette to stay there, and that the room they had was the worst in the hotel. 

Although, sitting in the room, Marinette doubted the second half of the statement.

It was two adjacent rooms, connected by a door in the living space, which allowed her a little privacy from her parents. Both rooms had a large living space, easily twice the size of the kitchen/living room back home, with an equally large bedroom attached. The bathroom was huge, almost inconveniently so, and there wasn’t a single part of the hotel suite that wasn’t embellished with golden accents.

Honestly it was kinda garish, but it was safe for now, so she was willing to set aside her opinions on Chloé and her terrible interior design skills for the time being.

“Marinette!” She hadn’t noticed her dad come into the room, but now he stood over her, a massive grin on his face, practically buzzing with excitement, “They have Ultimate Mecha Strike III!”

She forced herself to smile. She needed to leave, she needed to find Hawkmoth and defeat him before he had the chance to hurt her family, she needed to be Ladybug. 

She wanted to curl up and block out the world until all her problems disappeared.

But she couldn’t hurt her parents, she couldn’t let them know how much she felt like she was drowning in all this. And so she took the controller her dad offered her, going through the motions of UMS as if she didn’t feel like she was going to crumble any minute now.

She lost more games than she won, that hadn’t happened since she was a kid, still learning the mechanics of the game. It felt like yet another reminder of how far she had fallen in one day, of how much of a failure she was.

She was meant to be good at this! Compared to everything she’d done, it was easy. Hell, she’d even played a real life version of the game when Max had first been akumatised! So why was she such a failure? Why was she fucking up such basic stuff? She was Ladybug, she should be perfect!

But she wasn’t. Not anymore. Because she'd failed .

They played in relative silence, only occasionally broken by grunts of effort. She was struggling for the first time in a while, too preoccupied with the many dangers and threats around them, always alert in case Hawkmoth decided to-

“Chat Noir really is in love with you then, sweetie!”

She faltered, her character dying as her dad took advantage of her momentary hesitation to kill her.

“He rejected you for Ladybug, but you are Ladybug! Which means~”

She buried her face in her lap, the heat of her cheeks was mildly uncomfortable. She had prepared for a million different conversations she would have to have with her parents about her double life, but this was not one of them.

“I don’t love Chat!”

Her papa only laughed at her muffled protest, and the console let out the shrill “Game Over!” alert it had each time her dad had defeated her.

“He’s a sweet boy, Marinette! And he has a natural talent for baking. What more could you want?”

“He’s just a friend!”

She sat up finally, grabbing her controller just in time to dodge her dad’s next fatal attack, turning it back on him and wiping his character out in her signature move.

“Which was why you kissed him on the Montparnasse Tower?”

God she was sick of all the Oblivio bullshit. It was just a kiss! When they had no memories! Why did nobody seem to understand that? And now her dad was teasing her about it…

Her character died. Again.

“All I’m saying, sweetie, is that you deserve to be happy. Don’t get so caught up worrying about being Ladybug that you forget you’re Marinette first and foremost.” He paused the game, a much more sincere tone to his voice as he turned to face her. “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, but it’s okay to share your burden. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you before, but me and your maman are here to help you now.”

It had been so long since she’d last spoken to her dad like this: her responsibilities as Ladybug had been pushing her away from her family for so long. She missed it, missed their weekly UMS tournaments, missed her dad’s teasing, missed spending time with him.

And now it was too late. Maybe, if one day she was somehow able to defeat Hawkmoth, she would be able to have that again. But it felt more like a distant dream, a fantasy that would never be realised, than a possible future.

Still, she nodded, shifting across the sofa to rest in her papa’s arms, like she had when she was little.

She’d been lying to them for so long, she’d spent the last year lying and acting and covering up the truth, and she hated it. She hated lying, she hated making empty promises, she hated pretending that everything would be okay when she knew it wouldn’t.

And it was all for nothing, because now Hawkmoth who she was, now her parents and her friends were in danger, and she couldn’t do it anymore.

“I’m scared.”

The words stuck in her throat, the confession strange and foreign. It wasn’t right for her to be scared, she was Ladybug, she was a hero, it was her duty to be brave. 

…But she was scared. She was terrified. It was one of her most closely guarded secrets, second only to her identity… although that didn’t exactly qualify as a secret anymore.

Her dad tensed beside her and her blood ran cold. She shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have admitted that because now he would worry about her and Hawkmoth would sense it and her dad would be akumatised and she couldn’t fight him, she couldn’t, and-

“It’ll be okay.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a massive bear-hug. He didn’t understand. No one did. The whole city- herself included- had gotten so comfortable with the knowledge that everything could be repaired in the end, that when all was said and done, Ladybug would undo the damage caused.

No one had expected her to fail, no one really understood what failure meant.

“But what if it’s not?” It wouldn’t be, not when Hawkmoth had the upper hand now. Hiding in Chloé’s hotel was only delaying the inevitable- eventually he would find her and take her Miraculous and she would be powerless against him.

Then there would be no magical reset button, no way to heal and restore and revive, no Ladybug, no Marinette.

“Then I’ll step in: Super Baker to the rescue!” She snorted, he was joking, she knew that, but there was a sincerity to his voice that made some small part of her relax, reassured by her papa’s presence and support.

“Thanks Papa.”

Worry and doubt and fear still lingered in her mind, a stinging ache in her eyes as the exhaustion her fear wrought settled in, but for the first time since Saturday night, she felt like she could breathe.

Maybe the world had come crashing down, but at least she had people by her side to help her pick up the pieces.

It was late when he arrived. The tell-tale clink of his staff against the balcony was so soft, barely audible amidst the city’s evening soundscape, but she heard it nonetheless, so attuned to him that it was impossible to miss.

She gestured to him to come in, grabbing the plate of pastries her parents had left out for them. She smiled fondly at the memory of a few hours previously, when her mum had joined her and her dad on the sofa, interrogating her about Chat Noir. She had mentioned how she often brought pastries for him when they patrolled, and her parents had decided to spend the remainder of their evening in the kitchenette of their hotel room, baking an array of croissants and macarons for her to share with Chat when he visited.

“M’lady.”

She waved Tikki away, passing a few macarons to the kwami before she left.

“Hey Chat.”

She sat down on the bed with the plate, smiling at him as he opened the door.

“Sorry I couldn’t come earlier, my father wanted to talk to me.” He’d spoken about his dad in passing before, always in the same, clipped tone that made her reluctant to press further. There was something more to his voice now, something almost guilty, and not for the first time she wondered what his life was like without the mask.

“It’s okay.”

He moved to sit beside her on the bed, grabbing a macaron and practically inhaling it. She giggled at the display, letting a comfortable silence settle over them as they ate the baked goods her parents had cooked.

“How are you fe-”

“I don’t want to- Can we talk about literally anything else?”

She couldn’t think about her feelings right now, there was too much, too many things to process and the thought of trying to sort through them made her feel sick. She had died , her identity had been revealed, all of Paris knew her name, Hawkmoth knew her name, her parents were in danger, she had failed - 

And she wasn’t thinking about any of that. Nope. Not until Paris was safe.

“..Okay.” Chat Noir hummed, biting his lip in the way he always did when he was thinking. Marinette’s stomach dropped at the mischievous smirk that found its way to his face, maybe changing the subject wasn’t the best idea. “Y’know when your dad invited me to lunch? After you confessed your undying love for me? What was that all about, Buginette ?”

Yeah, she really shouldn’t have asked to change the subject. Shit.

“I… I thought you were gonna figure out my identity.”

“So you told me you were in love with me?” God, he was far too cocky for someone she was more than capable of punting across Paris.

She scoffed, trying to respond with something witty but her mind was blank. Instead she spluttered for a moment, scowling when he started to laugh.

“It’s okay Buginette, no one is able to resist my charm~” 

“I can and will throw you off the balcony, Chat.” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

“Aww Milady! You’d throw out a poor starving kitten? Are you really that heartless?” He flopped across her legs with a dramatic sigh. Her breath caught in her throat as his stupid, dorky, adorable face pouted up at her- it was wrong to call them puppy-eyes when he was a cat, but it was the only way to describe the expression he wore.

She carded her fingers through his hair, smiling softly as she rolled her eyes, “I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

There was a lull in the conversation, a comfortable silence only disturbed by his purring as she petted his hair.

Something fuzzy settled in her chest, comfortable and calm. She yearned for the rooftops, where these kinds of quiet moments belonged; their casual (platonic, totally platonic ) intimacy out of place in the grandeur of Le Grand Paris. Even so, it didn’t really matter where they were, so long as Chat Noir was with her.

He meant so much to her. She didn’t want to be Ladybug, not really. The burden she carried was far too big, her duty far too important, but even still, she wouldn’t trade anything for the time she spent with Chat. He was her best friend, someone she trusted and loved in ways she couldn’t quite describe.

“Chat… I- you’re my best friend, you know that right?”

He looked up at her, surprised by the shift in conversation, “and you’re mine.”

She hadn’t realised how scared she’d been of losing him, of him not returning the sentiment, until the relief washed over her at the confirmation that the fear was unfounded. She was his best friend, and he was hers, and she hadn’t realised how much that meant to her until now.

“If… something happens-”

“Nothing’s going to happen, I won’t let it.” He shifted, moving to sit up straight so he could meet her eyes, staring at her earnestly. His hands rested on her shoulders, and she gently removed them, holding them in her hands instead.

“But if it does, I want you to know that-” She hesitated, breaking away from his soft gaze to scan the room for any trace of Bunnyx. 

When she found nothing, she looked back down at him, grinning. “-I love you, so much,” and she did, even if it wasn’t in the way he wanted her too, “if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have been Ladybug, I would have given up after Stoneheart, and you tell stupid jokes and puns and they’re really really bad Chat, like I’m convinced you get them from “ top ten worst dad jokes ” blogs or something.” She didn’t try to suppress the affection in her voice as she spoke, her smile widening as he mimed mock offence at her words.

“Oh no! I’ve been exposed!” He pulled his hand away to dramatically rest it against his forehead, and as his hand left hers, she wondered if it had always felt so… weird to let him go.

She shook the thought away, swatting at him playfully as she giggled, “-hush. But yeah, your jokes are really lame and dorky and your timing absolutely sucks , but I don’t mind because you’re the one telling them and you’re my best friend and you mean the world to me Chat and-”

He wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as he pulled her closer, cutting off her rambling.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

Chapter Text

INTERLUDE ONE: Public Opinion

FROM CHAT NOIR TO LADYBUG

Sunday 8 January 2017  06:48

CHAT NOIR: Hey M’lady

CHAT NOIR: Marinette…

CHAT NOIR: It’s kinda crazy y’know?

CHAT NOIR: I’m happy it’s you though, you’re amazing Marinette- with or without the mask

CHAT NOIR: …Alya’s Rena Rouge then?

CHAT NOIR: She just tried to give me her miraculous

CHAT NOIR: It makes sense that you would pick her

CHAT NOIR: I guess that makes Nino Carapace?

CHAT NOIR: Crazy to think that our whole friend group is superheroes

CHAT NOIR: +Chloé, it makes a lot more sense why you (LB) don’t like her

CHAT NOIR: Tikki is nice, she just offered me a cookie :D

CHAT NOIR: Plagg would never share his cheese with me- not that I want it lol

CHAT NOIR: …

CHAT NOIR: I’ll delete these, it just felt too weird just watching you sleep y’know

CHAT NOIR: It’s weird cause I always thought that you would be a stranger under the mask

CHAT NOIR: Although when Mme.Mendeleiev got akumatised I thought it might have been you

CHAT NOIR: But then you gave yourself??? the miraculous and I kinda dropped it…

CHAT NOIR: Did you ever figure me out?

CHAT NOIR: I’m so glad it’s you Marinette. I love you.

CHAT NOIR: Your mum told me to go home, but I’m so scared Hawkmoth’s gonna show up any second now

CHAT NOIR: I can’t let him hurt you.

CHAT NOIR: I don’t know how you’re going to handle this when you wake up

CHAT NOIR: I’m here though, no matter what

CHAT NOIR: We’ll win in the end, I know we will, but the stakes have never been this high

CHAT NOIR: I’m scared Marinette

CHAT NOIR: I’m so scared to lose you

CHAT NOIR: I can’t lose anyone else

[CHAT NOIR deleted 27 messages]

CHAT NOIR: Hey… Sorry your mum wanted me to go home and sleep, so if I’m gone when you wake up that’s why. I’ll be there asap though!!! I love you Marinette, with and without the mask. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together.

CHAT NOIR: You and me against the world <3

Monday 9 January 2017  08:21

LADYBUG: Thank you for being there last night Chaton <3

CHAT NOIR: Just try not to miss me too much while I’m at school Buginette ;)

LADYBUG: Flirt.

CHAT NOIR: Only with you, M’lady <3

Pierre Laurens had spent the last five years of his life in a state of constant exhaustion: working nights in a hospital did that to you, especially in Paris, where akumas had been constantly endangering the lives of his patients for the past year.

It was one of those nights: something had kicked off at the Eiffel Tower - Pierre honestly couldn’t find it in himself to care what exactly was going on - and his shift had been nothing short of depressing. He just wanted to get home to his wife and kids and enjoy the few days he had off.

Instead he was stuck in traffic, following the hundreds of other cars that were being redirected away from the attack. Currently the Akuma Protocol app on his phone was telling him he wasn’t close enough to whatever was happening to need to evacuate, so he allowed himself to relax a little, counting down the minutes until Ladybug and Chat Noir wrapped this up and he could get home.

About half an hour later a swarm of ladybirds flew by his car, and the traffic began moving again. Pierre was a doctor; he wasn’t entirely comfortable with how everything seemed to be explained away with “magic”, but honestly he’d learned to just accept whatever Mandela Effect the city seemed to be experiencing and move on. So long as his family was safe.

It took him another hour to get home, accidentally waking up his youngest daughter when he slipped in the door and killing any chance he had at getting some sleep today.

He hushed her, not wanting to wake up his wife or eldest daughter, boiling the kettle and settling down on the sofa with a cup of coffee while she rambled about a dream she’d had last night. It didn’t make much sense, but the excitable way she spoke was enough to make his heart soften, some of the bitterness from the night before slipping away.

He switched on the TV, intending to put a cartoon on to distract her so he could try and take a nap, only to hesitate when the screen flashed with a “Breaking News” announcement, Nadja Chamack appearing on the screen.

“Breaking- just over an hour ago, Ladybug, Chat Noir and the other heroes battled Hawkmoth and Mayura at the Eiffel Tower.”

Pierre instinctively pulled his daughter a little closer, he hated that they were stuck in Paris, nowhere near financially stable enough to move away, and even if he had been, the property values had dropped too much since everything had started for him to be able to afford to sell and move somewhere new. Not for the first time, he debated sending his daughters to live with their grandparents outside of the city, at least until Hawkmoth was defeated.

“During the battle, Ladybug engaged in a fight with Mayura, who got the upper hand on the superheroine, throwing her off the Tower. Ladybug detransformed when she hit the ground, revealed to be fifteen year old-”

Pierre didn’t hear the rest of what Nadja said, he couldn’t. 

His eldest daughter was fifteen… His stomach dropped at the thought of her fighting supervillains, putting her life in danger like that. It had never really occurred to him that Ladybug had a life outside of saving Paris, that she was someone’s friend, someone’s daughter…

It was a horrifying thought. For so long Paris’ heroes had been nameless figures, saving the city and restoring it. But Ladybug was a child. She was a kid, fifteen years old . She had parents who were probably worried sick about her, and Pierre couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might be like for them.

He held his youngest daughter, switching the channel to some mindless kids show he didn’t know the name of. He’d phone his mother-in-law later today; Hawkmoth had an advantage now, and he wouldn’t risk his daughters being in the city when he won.

[ The video opens on a black screen with white text that reads: 

CW: 

The following footage contains real, graphic images of the fight between the Miraculous Heroes and Hawkmoth on Sunday the 8th of January. 

Please watch at your own discretion.

The words remain for a few seconds, before disappearing, and new text appears:

Sunday 8th January 2017 

04:28 AM

The video begins with shaky footage as the person holding the camera seems to be moving. It’s loud, words are indiscernible through the sounds of lots of people shouting over each other as the camera operator forces themself through a crowd. Eventually the camera becomes steady, the Eiffel Tower coming into frame. 

It’s hard to make out what’s happening until the camera zooms in on the first level of the tower, where a figure dressed in green throws something towards a much taller figure dressed in purple. They move away from the edge, out of view of the camera. 

The frame pans up, focusing on two people fighting on the second level. One of the figures - who seems to be blue - throws something small and red off the tower, and the person they’re fighting - dressed in red - tries to reach for it. 

“You need to leave”

Suddenly the frame is filled with a blurry orange shape, and the camera operator zooms out, bringing a girl dressed in an orange outfit that resembles a fox into frame, the Eiffel Tower slightly obscured behind her. 

“You all need to go.”

Her words are barely audible over the crowds of people shouting, but she continues anyway, attempting to push the crowds back. A police officer steps up beside her.

“Officer Raincomprix, we need to clear the area, I think-”

She’s cut off by a scream from the tower, and the crowd goes quiet for a moment. The silence is broken when someone out of shot screams:

“IT’S LADYBUG!”

The camera pans and zooms in quickly, tracking the red-clothed figure as they fall through the centre of the Tower, flailing around. The footage is rough and barely manages to keep up with their fall, but it’s enough to capture the pure panic, especially as the crowds behind begin screaming.

The person hits the ground, and the concrete cracks beneath them. A sudden burst of light fills the screen as the camera zooms in further. The resolution is low, but it’s enough to make out a young-looking girl dressed in pink spotted pyjamas and covered in blood, lying on the ground.

“Oh my god…”

The camera zooms out, panning around to the fox girl, who’s staring at the girl with a look of horror on her face.

“Marinette? MARINETTE!”

The video pans back as the blue figure who was fighting the girl earlier lands a few metres away from her and begins moving closer. There’s a blur of yellow, and suddenly she’s running, a girl dressed in black and yellow chasing the woman in blue away.

“MARINETTE!”

A figure dressed in black jumps off the first level of the tower, a silver staff catching him before he lands. The fox girl is running as well - faster than any human should be able to - towards the girl.

The camera zooms in on the girl lying on the ground as the other two figures reach her. The girl in orange cradles her in her arms, while the boy in black moves to block them from the view of the cameras. A moment passes, before the girl in orange grabs the other girl and runs out of sight.

The boy stands for a moment, completely still, until a sudden flash of green illuminates the top half of the screen, and he uses his staff to jump back up to the first level of the Eiffel Tower.

The camera follows him up, although there isn’t much to see as the angle of the camera leaves most of that level obscured from view. The top of what looks like a shimmering green dome is barely visible.

Nothing happens for a few minutes, unseen people continue to scream and shout, police officers continue to try and push back the crowds, but for four minutes, there’s no action from the Tower.

Suddenly the camera pans to capture a red figure jumping across rooftops, throwing something red towards the tower and using it to swing up to the first level. For a moment she stands on the edge, in view of the camera. She’s a different hero to the other girl earlier, her outfit slightly more detailed, but she’s only there for a second before she moves out of sight.

The green-clothed figure from earlier appears, climbing down the side of the tower, before running off. A few moments later, the green dome disappears, and suddenly the purple figure from before is fighting the boy in black and the red hero.

Only a few moments of the fight can be seen, and a few minutes later, the purple figure is able to jump away, running across the rooftops and into the sunrise. The boy in black and the girl in red pursue him, and the camera begins moving shakily again as the person behind it starts running after them.

A blinding red light fills the frame, and the video ends. ]

ladybug falls of the eiffel tower (08/01/2017)

569K views・8 Jan 2017

@dvierhvaknl

Operation Secret Garden

Rose: Hey Marinette! We just wanted to let you know that we’re here for you! We know you must be going through a lot right now, but stay safe, okay? Thank you for everything you’ve done for Paris! You really are amazing! We love you loads!!! xx

Mylene: Love you Marinette! <3 Take all the space and time you need, we believe in you!

Alix: you’re going to kick mothman’s butt Marinette! love ya!

Juleka: Thanks for everything Marinette, I hope you’re okay <3

LADYBUG REVEALED!

By Sophie Côté 08.01.2017

Early this morning, the city of Paris beheld yet another akuma attack. Unlike most attacks however, the fallout from this battle could not simply be repaired by a wave of ladybirds and magic…

This morning, Ladybug’s identity was revealed to the world.

No one but Ladybug or Mayura could tell us exactly how it happened, but Ladybug fell without her yo-yo and on the brink of transforming back to whoever her civilian self might be.

No one was fast enough to save her.

To see a hero like Ladybug fall is nothing short of traumatic, to see her become a fifteen-year-old girl is even worse.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is the daughter of Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, owners of the T&S Boulangerie Patisserie in the 4th Arrondissement. In most regards, she’s a normal girl, with a normal life, but Marinette Dupain-Cheng is the girl responsible for saving Paris on a daily basis, she’s the girl who has saved the lives of thousands of Parisians.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug.

[ read more ]

Manon hadn’t sat still all day.

Marinette was Ladybug! That was so cool! She knew the real life Ladybug!

Everyone at school was asking her about Ladybug, and she told them about how her babysitter was awesome and how she’d been akumatised a few times and how Ladybug had saved her. 

It was cool having everyone talking to her but then at break some of the girls in the class had decided to hold a skipping contest, so she’d lost the attention for a while.

She tripped over the skipping rope and made sure to tell everyone about how clumsy Ladybug was when she grazed her knee.

She got a Ladybug plaster though, so it was worth it.

Support for Marinette

Caline Bustier <[email protected]> Mon, 9 Jan 2017, 17:43

to Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain 🆅

To the parents of Marinette Dupain-Cheng,

I hope this email finds your family well. Our hearts go out to Marinette, not only has she saved the city on countless occasions: she’s touched the hearts of all those she’s met, acting as an incredible class representative, student, and friend. I cannot express how grateful we are for everything your daughter has done.

Myself and M.Damocles would like to discuss the future of Marinette’s schooling with you to try and determine how to proceed with her education. While there is no rush for her to return to school, a meeting with you at your earliest convenience would be beneficial in order to figure out the best way we can support Marinette and guarantee her safety.

Marinette’s class have put together a video expressing their support and friendship, which I have attached. We are all incredibly proud of Marinette and I hope you will be able to share this video with her.

Kind Regards,

Caline Bustier

[ThankYouMarinette.mp4]

r/heroesofparis ⋅ posted by u/GenericReddit_username  11.01.17

Has something happened to LB?

so like, obviously, yeah some shit happened on sunday morning- i’m not /that/ oblivious -but like, we haven’t seen or heard from lb or cn since the incident? And at first i was like, fair enough that shits traumatic, but then cn hasn’t been seen since he left lb’s house on monday morning, and her school has been really strict about reporters the last 2 days so noones gotten a comment from any of her classmates, and the ladyblog has been silent since friday… idk im just worried because we've been left completely in the dark and if something did happen to lb none of us would know… like what if hm has won and we just dont know yet…

2.3K Comments   Share   Save   ⋅⋅⋅

Idont_Know

Didn’t some police person show up on Monday? I’m sure if smth happened we would have heard about it.

ImSoGoodAtCreatingFakeUsernames

Yeah… I'm more worried about the fact that Chat Noir hasn’t visited her since Monday… Like if something’s happened between the two of them then we are Fucked.

Another_User

i mean ppl have seen cn around the city since then but yeah he hasnt been back to the bakery…

https://www.facebook.com/MissingPetsofParis/

MissingPetsofParis

11 Jan

This black cat has been seen wandering around the 4th Arrondissement. If anyone knows where this little guy lives, let us know!

[attached is a photo of a sleek black cat with bright green eyes sitting on the roof of a dustbin.]

Abby @AbbyCat01

I know we’re all assuming that LB either survived the fall or was revived by the miraculous cure but like,,, what if she’s,,, y’know,,,

          I am so bad @creatingfakeusers

          Dude wtf!? Ofc Ladybug is alive, if she wasn’t then we’d know about it.

                    Abby @AbbyCat01

                    All I’m saying is that we haven’t heard anything from any of the heroes or her family since...

LADYNOIR @nobcauseLADYNOIR

Ik that everything is crazy rn but can we talk about how CN was fully Out For Blood when he was fighting Mayura??? Like hes so protective over LB #Ladynoir

Zach @JustAnotherDayinParis

Am I the only one worried about the fact there hasn’t been any akumas in the last few days?

          Li | Commissions Open! @generictwitteruser

          We haven’t heard from Ladybug or Chat Noir either…

Wayhem | ILY ADRIEN!!! @No1AdrienAgresteStan

hey isn’t Ladybug that one girl who was seen with Adrien Agreste in like, a fountain and on a train or smth that one time?

          ADRIENETTE FOR LIFE @Random1253

          NO SHE IS OMG! Those photos were so cute tbh I kinda ship them

                    Elia @user42069

                    Girl fully died and had her identity exposed to Paris and now HM might win and you’re shipping her with some random model…

          ADRIEN MARRY ME @AAstan

          Adribug? Ladyrien? Ladrien?

                    ADRIENETTE FOR LIFE @Random1253

                    Her civilian name is Marinette so like, Adrienette is kinda cute as well?

Armand | he/him @ArmandDrawsShit

The fact that Ladybug’s identity was revealed and Paris is in a shit ton of danger and all anyone on the internet is talking about is shipping. LB is literally a minor and probably going through a lot rn, and some of you need to sort out your priorities.

Evie Lou @eVIE0928

Okay but real talk is Ladybug okay? Cause no one has heard from her or Chat Noir or the Ladyblog since Sunday morning and it’s kinda concerning. @LadyblogOffical @ChloéBourgeois @TS_BoulangeriePatisserie 

          Zach @JustAnotherDayinParis

          You think Hawkmoth won?

                    Evie Lou @eVIE0928

                    I hope not…

Leo @leoshere89

As someone who lives in Paris, it really upsets me to see so many people joking about the current situation. Ladybug is our hero, we all admire and respect everything she’s done for our city, but she’s also a child, and people joking about- (1/?) [see thread]

Mayor Bourgeois was a busy man, eternally up to his neck in some kind of paperwork thanks to the current state of Paris. Between the ongoing magical terrorism, his daughter’s demands, and the standard responsibilities of the mayor's office- he hardly had a moment to breathe.

And then Ladybug’s identity had been revealed, and suddenly his work had doubled. First his daughter had decided that the Dupain-Chengs would have to stay in Le Grand Paris, which had taken far too much effort to get them in discreetly and keep that information away from the public; then there was a rise in public dissent since all of a sudden people apparently had a problem with the fact the superheroes were children, even though it hadn’t mattered when Chloé became Queen Bee, and that was a PR nightmare; and now the police force were asking him what to do about Hawkmoth, as if it was his job to deal with crime in Paris.

It wasn’t Ladybug’s fault, he shouldn’t blame a child , not to mention the scandal that would happen if he got akumatised over this.

He had never been particularly qualified for his job, but for the longest time people had been content to leave him to it, too distracted by akumas and superheroes to care. Now though, the whole city of Paris was blaming him for Ladybug’s failure, as if it was his fault the girl decided to risk her life for some stupid jewellery.

People were calling for 24/7 police protection for Ladybug and her family- which he had provided, as well as a safe house for her, but the public couldn’t know that, and so he was left under fire for “standing by and letting Hawkmoth get her”. There were also so many discussions about the ethics of child superheroes, and what Ladybug being a normal girl meant for Paris- and yet everyone had been perfectly fine with all of that until a few days ago. Obviously she’d always had a secret identity, after all Chloé had, kind of, but it wasn’t until they actually had a name that the public cared.

Andre sighed, pressing his fingers against his temple. Why the fuck had he gone into politics ?

Re: Ladybug

Renée Clair <renéeclair@préfecturedepolice.fr> Tues, 11 Jan 2017, 14:23

to Andre Bourgeois 🆅

Dear M.Bourgeois,

Following our prior communication, I wanted to clarify that the Police Préfecture has come to the decision that we will not be intervening with the work of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and “Chat Noir”, as long as what they do is vital and cannot be delegated to the police, military, etc. This decision will be revised in a fortnight (25/01/2017), depending on the danger Marinette Dupain-Cheng is in and the circumstances of the conflict at that time, which is something we will be evaluating over the coming weeks.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has refused to divulge the identities of any of the other vigilantes, or information about the “Miraculous” and the source of her power. While our current priority is the safety of her and Paris, we will not be pushing her to share this information, however once “Hawkmoth” has been brought to justice, we do intend to seize these powers in order to keep them out of civilian hands.

In regards to Mlle.Dupain-Cheng herself, we will be referring her care and protection to her local police station (under the command of Major Roger Raincomprix), who will ensure her mental and physical wellbeing at this time and organise the protection of her family and friends.

Please let me know if you require any further clarification,

Kind Regards,

Renée Clair

Police Commissioner 

Paris Police Préfecture

Luka stummed at his guitar, but the sound was wrong. Everything he had played recently was off, lacking the right emotion for the music.

He was worried about Marinette, everyone was. 

He’d known she was impressive, she was smart and cute and creative, stumbled over her words when she spoke in a way that made his heart skip a beat, and her being Ladybug only drew him to her more.

But between Adrien and Chat Noir and everything going on, he doubted his feelings would ever honestly be requited. He’d be there for her as a friend though, she meant too much to him for him to throw away her friendship over an unrequited crush.

He’d sent her a ton of messages and left a few voicemails before Juleka had told him that apparently her phone was turned off and she wasn’t receiving any of them, and since the bakery was far too crowded to even attempt breaching the slew of reporters outside the doors, Luka had no way of reaching her.

He strummed his guitar again, experimenting with a sadder melody this time, dragging out the usual chords that made up Marinette’s song until it was something much more sombre and tense.

He wished he could play it for her. 

Adrien: Hey Kagami, do you think you could help cover for me if I ditch fencing this weekend?

Kagami: Hello Adrien, I will see what I can do. Are you intending to try and visit Marinette? If so, please send her my regards. I admire the work she has done as Ladybug and I am grateful for the times she has freed me from Hawkmoth’s influence. Unfortunately the messages I have tried to send have not been received, so I would appreciate it if you could pass on my gratitude.

Adrien: Marinette’s phone number kinda got leaked so she’s turned her phone off, ig that’s why your messages haven’t gone through? I’ll let her know though!

Kagami: Ah, that makes sense. Thank you for passing along my message. I will see you on Saturday to help you sneak away from our lesson. 

Adrien: Thanks :D 

Kagami: :) 

The TVi Evening News begins with a wide panning shot of the studio, where Nadja Chamack sits at a large desk, straightening some papers on her desk. The next shot is a medium shot of her from straight on as she looks up into the camera, a lower thirds graphic displaying her name as she begins to speak, a neutral expression on her face.

Nadja Chamack: Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news! Tonight marks the end of the fourth day since Ladybug was revealed to be Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Since the end of the battle on Sunday morning, there has been no word from either of our heroes. Clara Contard has been out speaking to the people of Paris to find out how they feel.

The show cuts to a shot of an elderly woman on the streets of Paris, the T&S Boulangerie Patisserie surrounded by reporters in the background. The woman looks concerned as she speaks.

Elderly Woman: It’s just concerning that we’re entrusting our lives to children. My grand-daughter is Ladybug’s age, and it makes me sick to imagine someone her age carrying that responsibility.

It cuts to another shot in the same location, this time a man in his mid-late twenties stood in front of the camera.

Man: I get that Ladybug is a teenager but this silence is making people worry. Either her or her family need to say something ‘cause no one knows what’s going on right now and it’s- y’know?

He gestures vaguely with his arms before the camera cuts again, a person in their early twenties and a colourful outfit and dyed hair standing in his place. They shrug at whatever question they’ve just been asked.

Young Person: Hawkmoth hasn’t attacked in a few days, and Chat Noir hasn’t been seen since Monday- I don’t know, I guess I’m worried that something might have happened without us knowing… Then again, the world hasn’t ended yet so I’m guessing Hawkmoth hasn’t won.

This time two girls stand in the frame, they look young - late teens, early twenties - one has brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, while the other has long blonde hair.

Brown Haired Girl: I don’t know… It’s crazy that Ladybug- what was her name again? Mary or something?

Blonde Girl: Something like that.

Brown Haired Girl: Yeah, but like, she’s only like, fifteen? I don’t know- 

The two share a look and laugh, the brown haired girl gesturing between them as she continues.

Brown Haired Girl: I would not trust a fifteen-year-old.

André Glacier is the next person featured, he looks distressed, his ice-cream cart positioned behind him in what looks like a not-so-subtle attempt at advertising.

André: It’s a nightmare! Marinette is meant to be with Adrien Agreste and Ladybug is meant to be with Chat Noir! My ice-cream never lies!

It cuts again, this time to a middle aged woman with ginger hair, holding a baby in her arms- to those in Paris, her child is recognisable as “Gigantitan”, or August. The woman gives the camera a strained smile.

August’s Mother: Ladybug has saved my baby August many times now, it’s terrifying to see that she’s just a kid herself. I just hope that… I hope she’s okay. I can’t imagine what her and her parents are going through right now.

A young teen boy features next, he has the logo of the American “Avengers” movie on his shirt. He shuffles nervously as he talks, turning to look back at the bakery every few seconds.

Teen Boy: I never really thought about who Ladybug might be when she’s not- y’know- but it’s kinda scary cause she’s what, sixteen? That’s barely older than me? And having to save Paris? And now Hawkmoth knows who she is and where she lives… It’s something straight out of a movie except there's no guarantee that things will work out in the end.

Finally a middle aged man stands in front of the camera, he’s dressed in a suit, and seems to be impatient to leave, mimicking the boy before him as he keeps checking over his shoulder.

Businessman: I’m taking my family to go live with our friends in Toulouse until all this is over. I don’t really want to be in the city when everything goes wrong.

It cuts back to the studio, where Nadja Chamack faces the camera with a serious expression.

Nadja Chamack: Parisians are scared, worried about what Ladybug’s identity reveal will mean for the safety of our city. We still haven’t heard any word from the heroes of Paris, and with an unusual absence in akumas over the last few days, people are anxiously awaiting the next development in this ongoing war for the miraculous.

Sienna had only met Ladybug and Chat Noir once, when she had been akumatised into “The Uneducator” (stupid name, she knew) over exam stress. Even so, she would do literally anything short of die for them, because thanks to whatever feud they had with Hawkmoth, the government had given her year a ton of extra arrangements and help for their exams, which meant she had some hope of actually passing the brevet.

Key word being “some”, she still had to revise for this stupid end of unit exam, which meant she and her best friend Lou were cooped up in her bedroom bored out of their minds. Or she was at least, because Lou was too wrapped up in the Ladybug news to focus on anything else.

“She’s our age!”

Sienna looked up from her textbook at her friend, who had been scrolling through their phone for the past two hours reading posts about Ladybug.

“Really?” Lou turned the screen towards her, an excited look on their face.

“Yeah, so like, her best friend is the girl who runs the Ladyblog, and apparently they’re both in troisième!” 

She’d always thought that Ladybug and Chat Noir were older, their late teens at least. It seemed insane that a fifteen year old would be able to fight magical monsters or whatever.

“Do you think the Ladyblog girl knew?”

Lou scoffed, “Obviously, I mean, how could you hide a secret like that from your best friend?”

“She didn’t tell Chat Noir her identity though.”

Lou rolled their eyes at her, pulling their phone back, 

“When Ladybug, y’know,” they made a vague gesture with their hands, “apparently he shouted out her name, how could he have known that if he didn’t know her identity?”

“Maybe he knows her in real life- like maybe he’s in her class or something?” She lowered her voice, leaning closer to share her conspiracy despite the fact they were alone in her bedroom. Lou giggled, rolling their eyes.

“Yeah, no way. What is this? A fanfic or something?”

Chapter Text

It was almost midnight.

She didn’t want him to leave.

The movie they’d been watching had ended an hour ago, and her arm was numb where Chat had fallen asleep against her side. He looked so cute while he slept, like an actual cat curled up on the sofa.

She wished she still had her phone to take a photo.

It wouldn’t hurt to let him sleep, right? So long as she woke him up before his parents realised he was gone tomorrow morning? Although, she was getting a sore neck from the awkward position she lay in and she could already feel the pulsing pain of pins and needles through her arm, and it probably wasn’t fair to keep him away from his bed for the third night in a row.

“Chat?” She kept her voice as low as possible, her body still: she didn’t want to scare him or make him think she was in any danger. “Minou?”

He shifted, burying his face into the crook of her neck and letting out a groggy moan. She couldn’t hold back the giggle that spilled from her lips. He was just too adorable.

“The movie’s finished.”

He mumbled something that she couldn’t quite make out, refusing to move a single inch. Once upon a time, she might have thrown him off the sofa to break his slumber - playfully, of course - but now the sight of him just made her want to pull him closer and give in to the exhaustion that pulled at her eyes.

That was probably a selfish thing to do though, she really didn’t deserve his comfort after she had failed. He needed to leave, she shouldn’t be relaxing when the city and her family and friends were all in danger because of her.

“Chat.” She shook his shoulder with her other hand, her voice bled dry of the humour it had held a moment ago.

Maybe he’d heard the tension in her voice, or maybe the gentle nudge had been enough to finally wake him - either way he pulled himself upright, away from her, his movements sluggish and heavy with sleep.

She hated the emptiness that filled the space where his touch had been, hated the sudden space between them, but she didn’t deserve his comfort.

“M’lady-nette?” A yawn broke his words, eyes blinking and he looked so lost and sleepy and she really shouldn’t have woken him up, she should have just let him sleep.

“The movie finished.”

“Oh… What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. You should go.” 

(She wanted him to stay, she didn’t want to be alone.)  

He stared at her for a moment, an indiscernible look in his eyes and she hated how exposed she felt under his gaze, her façade useless against the person who probably knew her better than she knew herself.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! Just like the last million times you asked!” Why had she snapped? She couldn’t hurt him, she couldn’t- He didn’t deserve it.

She couldn’t keep doing this, she couldn’t keep standing at the edge with him waiting and waiting to make the wrong, inevitable move that would send him crashing into that awful world of white and blue and blood. 

A hand rested on her shoulder, warm and firm.

“Marinette, you can talk to me.”

…But her body was ash, and she felt herself crumble at the touch.

She buried her face into the warm, black leather of his suit, letting her body go numb in his arms. She couldn’t- She couldn’t talk to him, she couldn’t tell him why she felt like she was falling apart, she couldn’t tell him why she was so afraid, she couldn’t tell him-

She couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t keep holding onto whatever semblance of stability she had by a thread, couldn’t keep trying to hold herself together as if she hadn’t already fallen apart.

She could feel the sob caught in the back of her throat, she could feel the way her eyes were heavy and sore and wet with tears that never spilled. She just wanted to cry and break and scream. She wanted to tell him everything, she wanted to fall apart in his arms, she wanted to actually feel her stupid emotions without feeling like a failure.

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t do anything anymore. She couldn’t hold herself together and do what she needed to for Paris. She couldn’t fall apart even if she’d wanted to, because if she did, if she hurt Chat, then that awful world of white and blue would come back. She couldn’t do anything but walk the same tightrope she always had, waiting for something to finally break her routine.

She was so, so tired. 

“Please, I can tell you’re not okay. Just let me help you.” She felt the words more than she heard them, his chest rumbling slightly in the same way it did when he purred. She really didn’t deserve his kindness or his patience or his loyalty. She didn’t deserve him .

She didn’t want him to leave, she couldn’t lose him, but she shouldn’t keep being so selfish.

“So?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, “I failed. I need to fix my own mistakes. I don’t deserve help. Just go, please. I’m sorry for fucking up and creating so much mess and ruining your-”

“Marinette, you didn’t fail.” His hands were on her face, tilting her head up to meet his eyes, “None of this is your fault. I want to stay here, with you, because I care about you, I want to help. Let me help you, Marinette, we can figure this out together.”

God, she didn’t deserve him. He was so kind and gentle with her, his words slow but never hesitant, even after she’d messed up.

“I fell. My identity got revealed to everyone, to Hawkmoth. I’m the worst Ladybug, Chat, you should just take my earrings back to Master Fu, let him pick someone who isn’t going to mess up like I did, please.”

She could barely hear the words she was saying, her brain disconnected from her mouth, only the metal taste of blood on her tongue registering as she bit at her lip in an effort to hold back her sobs.

(She couldn’t break down.)

(She already had)

“You’re the best Ladybug, Marinette, you’re so kind and caring and determined to do what’s right. You’re brave and intelligent and just… amazing. Before I met you I was miserable and lonely, but then you were there and it’s like the world opened up and just- every day I see you and my heart literally feels like it’s going to explode with how much I love and admire you, M’lady, Ladybug, Marinette. You haven’t failed, nothing that happened on Sunday was your fault, I promise. And we’ll win, like we always do. We’ll find Hawkmoth and Mayura and we’ll take back their miraculous and everything will be okay again.”

Her heart stuttered, cheeks darkening and she prayed that he mistook her blush for tears. How could he say such sweet things to her when she’d failed? After everything she’d done to doom Paris to Hawkmoth? After putting his life in more danger than it had ever been in? How could he still speak to her like that?

“But what if it’s not? What if I fail?”

“We. Marinette, we’re a team, we carry this responsibility together, okay? And I promise you, Hawkmoth stands no chance against Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her amazingly talented partner! You and me against the world.”

She only hesitated for a moment, the words feeling less like a lie this time and more like a fickle promise. “Always.”

“Good.”

He smiled at her, and she knew it was selfish to want him to stay, she knew she shouldn’t let him get so close to her, she knew the consequences of loving him.

But Bunnyx hadn’t shown up yet, and she was so, so tired: so tired of not knowing what was the right decision, so tired of wearing a mask, so tired of falling apart.

Maybe it was okay to be selfish, just this once.

“Can you… Can you stay tonight?”

She didn’t think it was possible for his smile to widen, but it did.

“Always, ma Princesse.”

She stood, letting out a watery giggle at the nickname as she offered her hand to him.

“Princesse ? That’s a new one.”

He took it, and she practically dragged him to the bed. Maybe once she would have insisted he slept on the sofa, but the thought of being so far away from him scared her. Besides, they’d fallen asleep in each other's laps a million times before, napped together on the metal roofs of Paris, spent hours in each other's arms atop the Eiffel Tower. The bed was just a bit more comfortable, that was the only difference, right? That was the only thing that had changed, right?

She pressed her lips together in a desperate attempt to cool the blush that painted her cheeks.

“Nope. I used it when Nathaniel got akumatised.”

She watched as he shuffled across the bed, rolling her eyes as he looked up at her with the same easy grin that permanently pulled at his lips.

“Evillustrator? You remember that?” She remembered the akuma, of course, aside from their numerous encounters with M.Pigeon (which she’d lost count of at this point), she could remember every fight they’d been in. She was surprised he’d remembered the specific nickname though, it had been over a year since Nathaniel had been akumatised.

“I remember all the fair damsels I save.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, I saved you that time by getting us out of that box-thing.” She rolled her eyes, hazy memories of a glass cage and the romantically lit canal boat flickering through her mind. It hadn’t been until Nathaniel had met Marc that he’d realised he was gay, but the time that he’d thought he’d had a crush on her and gotten akumatised seemed more like a fever dream than an actual memory.

She missed them - her friends. It had only been three? Maybe four days since she’d last seen her friends in person, but it felt like a lifetime. So much had happened, so much had changed, and she missed the normalcy of teasing her friends and chatting in art club and hanging out together in the canteen while gossiping about everything and nothing and complaining about exams and the ever looming brevet.

She might never get the chance to be like that again.

“Technicalities, Princesse.” Chat Noir’s newest, terrible nickname broke her from her thoughts and she groaned.

“Please don’t tell me that’s gonna become a regular one. I almost hate it more than Buginette.”

“We’ll have to see, Buginette.” 

She scowled, but she could feel her cheeks burning. She didn’t mind the nickname, not really. Something about it made her heart race in a different kind of way, a good way.

She knew the price of loving him. She knew she shouldn’t feel like this.

But even the burning terror that overcame her at the thought couldn’t quite push away the warmth in her chest.

Chat Noir sat on a rooftop across from Alya’s flat, trying his best to ignore the tightness in his chest that grew every time he left Marinette alone.

She wasn’t alone, he reminded himself, Chloé was at the hotel with her miraculous, her parents were with her, she had Tikki, and a whole team of security guards right outside her door.

Still, with every moment away from her, he felt like he was suffocating.

She’d told him to speak to Alya and Nino though, and so here he was, three days after everything, preparing to speak to Rena Rouge and Carapace.

It was a lot easier to make sense of Nino and Alya’s secret identities. Both of them acted pretty much the same, with or without the mask, and the only real struggle was figuring out what Adrien knew and what Chat Noir knew about them.

He tried to shake away the anxiety that gripped him - the sooner he spoke to Alya and Nino the sooner they would have a plan and he could return to Marinette’s side.

It was dark, a few hours after sunset, and the cool Winter air bit at his face. He scanned the surrounding roofs, relying on his night-vision and heightened senses to detect anyone who might be watching him- the last thing he needed was to put Alya and Nino in any more danger.

His breath caught in his throat as a loud clatter echoed from a nearby alley. He leapt to the next roof, grateful for the way his miraculous silenced his movements, letting him move stealthily through the night.

The alley was empty, save for a sleek black cat sat atop a fallen bin.

It was fine, everything was safe, but the knowledge did little to banish the unease in his stomach, the perpetual feeling that someone was watching growing stronger as the cat looked up at him with a far too intelligent look in its green eyes.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. It was a cat.

He scanned the rooftops again, his wariness catching every rustle of the trees, every distant bird call, every slight movement of the animals that ruled the streets when the city slept.

No one was there. It was fine. Marinette was safe and he was safe and there was nothing to worry about.

He silently dropped onto Alya’s balcony, eager to get out of the open as soon as possible.

He didn’t need to knock: the second he landed on the balcony, Nino pulled open the French doors, beckoning him inside and throwing the curtains shut behind them.

“Chat Noir…”

There was something in Alya’s voice that was just… strange. Guilt or worry or some other emotion he couldn’t quite place. It was weird, tentative, so different from the way she’d spoken to Adrien four hours earlier.

Then again, the last time Alya had seen Chat Noir, she’d been trying to return her miraculous, crying at the sight of Marinette’s unconscious body…

He shuffled uncomfortably at the memory, “Marinette said you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, uh, take a seat.”

He did as he was told, awkwardly tapping his fingers against his thigh as a silence akin to the one that had held their class on Monday morning fell over them. He didn’t know how to start this conversation, and it was clear that neither Alya or Nino did either.

“Okay,” Alya stood up, breaking the silence, “so, you know we’re superheroes, and that the guardian guy gave us our miraculous indefinitely, right?”

He nodded. He’d been sitting on Marinette’s balcony while she’d phoned them, and she’d filled him in afterwards. Master Fu hadn’t reached out to him or Marinette once over the last few days, not a single call or secret visit, and Adrien couldn’t help the frustration that bubbled through him at the Guardian’s distance. “Did Master Fu tell you guys anything when he spoke to you?”

“Just that we needed to help protect Marinette but ideally he would have left Paris with the miraculous.” That was new information. He knew that they were meant to be protecting Marinette, but either Alya hadn’t told Marinette that Fu wanted to take back the miraculous, or Marinette hadn’t deemed that information important enough to pass onto him.

“Yeah, is he always so cryptic, dude?”

“Well he tells Marinette everything, but then he tells her not to tell anyone so she doesn’t.” When he was with Marinette, he did his best to keep his opinions about Master Fu to himself, since he was a half decent mentor to her , but now he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

“What the fuck? Aren’t you guys partners?”

“Master Fu doesn’t see it that way, he’s spoken to me like, three times?” Master Fu had never trusted him, not in the way he trusted Marinette, and his stupid rules and biases had driven wedges into their relationship before, seeding doubt and insecurity in him, and forcing paranoia and solitude on her - not that Marinette wanted to acknowledge that.

“Dude.”

A tiny turtle kwami flew to Nino’s side - Wayzz, he remembered Fu calling him during one of their rare talks.

“The Master follows the rules of the Guardians, he does what he must to keep the Miraculous safe.” He fought back the urge to roll his eyes, leaving him in the dark with only Plagg to guide him was hardly the best way to keep the miraculous safe.

“They’re all a bunch of spoil sports though!” He startled as a raspy voice spoke up from behind him, adrenaline spiking as he turned to see a small fox grinning.

His eyes followed the kwami as they zipped through the air towards Alya, nestling in her hair the same way Plagg often did. He didn’t actually know their name, but Alya cut him off before he had the chance to ask.

“Okay, we’ll come back to ‘Master’ Fu being a bit shifty later, for now, we need to figure out how the hell we’re gonna defeat Hawkmoth and Mayura.”

He nodded, shaking away the bitterness he felt towards his supposed mentor.

“Marinette wants to use herself as bait, but I’m not letting that happen.”

He had arrived at Le Grand Paris last night after school, and one day after she’d moved into the hotel, it was already a mess of traps and papers, her entire room transformed into one large conspiracy board in her efforts to find and defeat Hawkmoth before he could hurt her.

She was frantic, near hysterical in her charting, the constant anxiety and paranoia he knew she had was working with her deeply intelligent and convoluted mind to send her spiralling. He’d seen hints of it before, but never anything this bad. She was religiously trying to convince herself she was fine, searching for any kind of distraction that would make her feel in control.

He had no idea how to help her.

And then she’d shared her plan with him, claiming that she’d lure Hawkmoth in, put her own life on the line, let Hawkmoth attack her after giving her miraculous to Alya, so that the two of them could ambush Hawkmoth and Mayura when they arrived.

He saw his own horror at Marinette’s plan reflected on Alya and Nino’s faces as he relayed it to them.

“What the fuck is wrong with her? Did she really think we’d go through with that?”

“I told her there was no universe that I would ever let her do it.”

Alya nodded, “Yeah no, absolutely not. She’s safe for now in Le Grand Paris, only the three of us, Chloé, Adrien Agreste,” he stiffened at the mention of his own name, “and some government people know where she is but…”

Her and Nino exchanged a look, he’d never been the best at reading people, but there was something about it that made the constant anxiety he’d been introduced to over the last few days spike.

Nino opened his mouth to say something, before hesitating and looking back at Alya. She nodded, and Nino looked down at the floor, avoiding his eyes as he spoke.

“But I think Hawkmoth knows Marinette, like, personally.”

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, a sharp intake of air as opposed to an actual word. 

“When her identity was revealed, I was hidden near Hawkmoth, I heard him say her name.” 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckwhat the actual fuck? Hawkmoth knew Marinette? That was impossible. What if it was one of the hotel staff, or the security guards outside her door right now? What if it was Tom? He seemed so nice and loving but what if he was Hawkmoth, or working for him? He remembered the sheer horror that had flooded him when Ladybug had suggested that his father might be Hawkmoth, how would Marinette feel if her dad was the villain she’d been fighting?

He’d been akumatised though. It couldn’t be him. But then again, so had almost everyone Marinette knew.

He let out a shaky breath that did little to calm his racing heart, fighting the urge to rush back to Marinette’s side and never leave. All it would take was trusting the wrong person, and Marinette would be at Hawkmoth’s mercy.

“Yeah, so unless Hawkmoth is just like, a crazy Jagged Stone fan and knows her from that, there’s a good chance he’s someone who knows Marinette personally.” He could barely hear the strain in Alya’s voice past the whirring of his own mind. God, this was bad. So, so bad and he had no idea where to even begin dealing with it.

“Ok. Ok shit that’s… a lot.”

“Yeah, and either he’s close enough to her that he’s finally woken up and decided to stop being a terrorist, or he’s plotting something big and that’s why he hasn’t attacked over the last few days. Either way, we need to draw him out. I don’t want to use Marinette as bait, but we need to do something to make sure Hawkmoth knows she’s still Ladybug and she’s still got the earrings so he does something to go after her and gives us an opportunity.”

He shot Alya a glare. “We’re not putting Marinette in any danger.”

“Absolutely not. The real Marinette will never be in any danger.” She tapped her miraculous, her kwami grinning from where they were nestled in her hair. He still didn’t like this, but it was better than what Marinette had suggested, so he nodded.

“We also need to get the press of her back, the more they keep digging for answers, the more likely it is that Hawkmoth finds out something he can use against her.” 

Honestly he hadn’t even considered the press beyond his annoyance when they harassed them all at school: there had been bigger things to worry about. But Alya was right, Hawkmoth was undoubtedly keeping a close eye on the news at the moment, waiting for someone to give him the information he needed to make a plan.

Unless he really did know Marinette, in which case, getting the press to leave Marinette alone would do little to protect her.

He really didn’t want to think about that possibility.

“So how do we do that?”

“People aren’t going to stop until Marinette makes some kinda statement, so we’re gonna do an interview for the Ladyblog, reassure Paris that she’s still alive and fighting - we really don’t need a rerun of Heroes Day, and hopefully the press will realise they aren’t gonna get the exclusive interview they’re hoping for.”

He doubted that would work. He’d been raised surrounded by paparazzi and reporters, his entire life had been built around appeasing the press, he knew that one interview would do little to satiate them, and, “That isn’t going to help with Hawkmoth though?”

“Like I said, we don’t want to deal with Heroes Day 2.0, and Marinette making a statement is the only way we can try and guarantee that. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news recently, but people are starting to worry Hawkmoth’s gotten to her already. At the very least, the interview will hopefully stop him taking advantage of that.” 

She had a point, every moment he’d spent away from Marinette, he’d been obsessively watching the news, tracking the TV crews waiting outside her house, hesitant to glance away for a single moment in case Hawkmoth decided to break his unexplained hiatus and hurt her.

He saw his tensions reflected in the people of Paris. Maybe it was just him, but the city felt suffocating, like everyone was struggling to breathe under the weight of fear, terrified and lost and powerless.

He’d always loved being Chat Noir, with endless power and freedom and his best friend by his side.

But Marinette was in danger, Hawkmoth held all the cards, and he was powerless to stop him.

It was like playing chess, blindfolded, with only a single pawn to defend the king. Hawkmoth had every advantage, there was no way to know how he was planning to proceed, no way of knowing what plans might already be in motion, nothing they could do but wait for him to call “check”. 

The only way they could win this was by drawing him out, forcing his hand to try and figure out what he knew and what he didn’t and how he was going to strike. The only way they could win was by backing themselves into a corner and praying for a little bit of luck. Up until now, that had been their only strategy: they were always on the defensive, always waiting for Hawkmoth to strike first, always barely holding their own until Ladybug called on her powers. But even though it had worked a million times before, there was something niggling at the back of his mind, a constant doubt, the weight of impossibility, refusing to let him truly believe that they could claim another, final victory that way.

No, if they wanted to defeat Hawkmoth, they needed to see his hand, needed to shift to the offensive, stop waiting around for him to strike, especially with the disadvantage they were at.

“We need a plan to defeat him. Actually force him out of hiding. It’s all well and good stopping akumatisations, but that doesn’t protect Marinette.”

“I mean, if he does know Marinette, there’s only a few people he could be, right?” 

Alya nodded as her boyfriend spoke, “Right. So if we figure out who our potential suspects are, then we can start tracking them down, and find out who he is.”

“We’ll need Marinette’s help for that.” Alya’s hardened determination cracked, something unreadable in her expression. It was the same look she’d worn on Monday when she’d first arrived at school, before she’d thrown herself into organising the class video for Marinette.

“... I know, I just- She’s so stressed right now, it feels wrong to give her something else to worry about.” It wasn’t that he disagreed, per say, but the idea of leaving Marinette in the dark made something twist uncomfortably in his gut. His doubt must have shown, because Alya continued, “We’ll tell her. I’m not saying we won’t. I want to be there in person though, I can’t let her deal with this alone.”

He understood that, the first night (morning? day? Sunday was too much of a blur for him to fully remember the timeline) he’d been so anxious to leave Marinette’s side, even with the consequences of not being in his room when Nathalie came to wake him hanging over his head. The thought of Marinette waking up alone, having to deal with everything that had happened with no one to help her through it, terrified him more than being pulled out of school ever would.

“Okay. We’ll talk to her tomorrow, can you guys come to Le Grand Paris after school?”

Alya nodded, “We’ll have to convince Chloé, but I don’t think she’ll be as much of a problem as she used to be.”

Chloé had been surprisingly… ‘nice’ wasn’t the right word, but she’d been more… considerate, in her own way, over the past few days. He’d been trying to help her improve for so long, and now she seemed to have finally decided to change, glimpses of the girl he’d first become friends with showing through the cracks in her “bitchy-rich-girl” façade.

“Can you ask Marinette if she’s happy to do the interview? It’s short notice but…”

“I’m sure Chloé can get everything we need by then, and Marinette is just desperate to do something, I’m sure she’ll say yes.” Not that he wanted to feed into Marinette’s manic desire to do something other than sit around waiting for Hawkmoth to attack, but hopefully the interview would quell that.

“Hey dude- err, Chat Noir - do you want us to show up in costume or?”

“Either way, I think Chloé will figure out your identities.” Chloé wasn’t an idiot - lazy, maybe, but not an idiot - if Rena Rouge and Carapace showed up to film an interview for the Ladyblog, or if Alya and Nino showed up to help Marinette figure out Hawkmoth’s identity, she’d be able to put the pieces together. “But I think we’re past the point of keeping secrets. So long as no one outside figures out, I think we’ll be fine.”

“By no one outside… Does that include Adrien?” He froze at Nino’s mention of his alter-ego. He wanted to tear down the wall between him and his friends, and wanted to be done with all the secrets - but Marinette would probably kill him for doing that while Hawkmoth was still around.

“I- That’s Marinette’s call to make.” He couldn’t give them an answer, not when Adrien Agreste already knew their identities, not when he was actively fighting the urge to drop his transformation right now and reveal himself to them, “I don’t know how much she likes him.”

That was a reasonable excuse, right? After their trip to the waxwork museum, he’d realised just how tenuous his friendship with Marinette was as Adrien, and while Alya and Nino hadn’t borne witness to that mess, they’d been present for the aftermath.

Apparently it was not a good excuse, if Alya’s deadpan look and Nino’s barely restrained laughter were anything to go by.

“You’re kidding.” Even the kwamis seemed to be in on the joke, with the fox bursting into laughter while Wayzz gave him a sympathetic look, moving from Nino’s side to settle on Adrien’s shoulder.

He was lost. Marinette didn’t like Adrien - at best, she tolerated him. Before he’d found out her identity, he’d been so eager to tell Ladybug who he was, but the more familiar he became with the fact that Ladybug and Marinette were the same person, the more he realised just how differently she saw Chat Noir and Adrien. 

He didn’t know if he wanted to tell her his identity anymore.

“No? She talks about you two all the time, and all her other friends, but she hasn’t mentioned him once.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but he couldn’t tell them the full truth about their trip to the waxwork museum and all the time he’d spent hanging out with her as Adrien.

Alya just rolled her eyes, “You like her, right?”

His mask wasn’t big enough to cover the blush that rose to his cheeks. “I- Yeah”

“And she knows that?” It was phrased like a question, but from the look on her face, he doubted Alya really needed him to answer. Had Marinette told her about his confession and candlelit picnic? He didn’t know if it was possible for his face to get any redder.

He hummed in affirmation, too flustered to get a word out.

Alya sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose, “Boy-”

“Dude, don’t get jealous or anything, but it’s kinda the opposite of whatever you’re thinking. Marinette loves Adrien.”

What. Marinette… loved him? But that didn’t make sense, she always stuttered and made excuses to get away from him, and he found her clumsiness endearing but she only ever seemed that stressed out around him. Besides, she liked Luka, right?

“Nino!” Alya hissed at her boyfriend as her kwami burst into even more laughter. Wayzz let out a sigh beside him, giving Adrien’s cheek a pat that seemed intended to be reassuring, but Adrien was so lost on what was actually going on that its effect was somewhat lost.

“What? I didn’t want him to think Marinette hated-” 

“Marinette loves all her friends, and she loves Adrien, as a friend.” Alya turned back to him, “Okay?”

He nodded, though he still didn’t really understand what was going on or why Alya was so upset about him knowing that Marinette actually liked Adrien. He couldn’t find it in himself to care that much, too caught up in the fact that Marinette apparently didn’t hate his alter-ego. Marinette liked - loved - him! Maybe she wouldn’t hate knowing that Chat Noir was really Adrien Agreste.

(She loved him, she loved him, she loved him, she-)

He knew he needed to leave soon, to get back to Marinette. Besides, Alya looked just about ready to kill Nino, and he didn’t want to get involved with that mess. “I should probably get going, I’ll let Marinette know about the interview.” He backed out of the room before they could say anything else, a wave of relief washing over him as he stepped out into the cold.

Marinette loved him. Platonically or not, he didn’t know; he didn’t care. She loved him, and that was all that mattered.

The cat he’d seen down the alley earlier in the evening was perched on the roof above him, watching him with the same, almost intelligent look in its eyes. He climbed up to the roof, careful not to startle it, and crouched down a few metres away, offering his hand to the small animal.

“Little kitty on a roof~” The cat stepped towards him, nuzzling its head against his hand as he sang. “You’re a cute little cat, aren’t you? Look, I know you’re just a cat, but I need to talk to someone about this, and Plagg will laugh at me.” He scratched behind its ear, “Marinette loves me! I think… I think I might be the other boy?”

The cat stared at him with those same, unblinking eyes, “I know, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Besides, she needs me right now, I shouldn’t be worrying about such stupid things. I thought she hated me, but it turns out she loves me! I’m just happy to be her friend, I don’t know how I’d cope if Marinette hated me.”

The cat meowed at him, “Sorry, I don’t have any food for you, unless you like magic-infused camembert.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. He’d never had a particular disliking for cheese until Plagg came along, but now the mere mention of camembert was enough to make him feel queasy. The cat seemed to agree, returning to gently butting his hand.

“I have to go now, Marinette will be missing me.” He gave the cat a final scratch, before launching himself into the night, a smile on his lips as he rushed back to Marinette’s side.

“There's something about him that’s kinda familiar, like I know him from somewhere.” 

She met Nino’s eyes through the mirror, sending him a flat look as she combed hair oils through her curls, preparing for bed. “He’s literally Chat Noir, babe.”

Her parents didn’t like the fact Nino was staying over on a school night, but after he’d snuck back in and been caught on Tuesday morning, they’d decided that letting him stay was safer than him presumably climbing the walls of their block of flats to sneak in.

Of course, Nino had superpowers, so it wasn’t that dangerous, but her parents didn’t know that.

“I know but like, I don’t know him, not really, but talking to him just now… he kinda reminds me of someone, but I can’t place who.”

She frowned. She’d felt something similar when she’d first spoken to Carapace, like a call of recognition that was distorted through walls of magic. It had taken Nino obviously fumbling with his identity after the fact for her to finally break through the haze.

She’d felt it a little when she’d first spoken to Ladybug one-on-one, but it had always been such a distant sense she hadn’t ever registered it, too caught up in the excitement of superpowers and magic and the fact she was interviewing freaking Ladybug to let the feeling linger in any tangible way.

“Nino… Do you think we know him?”

If Nino was right, then maybe… And it wasn’t like Nino had many friends outside of the class, if it was someone familiar to him, she probably knew him, Marinette probably-

Marinette… He’d shouted out Marinette’s name when she’d- He’d shouted out her name , and Marinette had said that she’d met Chat Noir a few times out of costume, but surely if he only knew her through that, he would have called out “Ladybug” since he was more familiar with her on that side of the mask?

He had to be… He was… Who was he? Her thoughts started to slip out of her grasp, something foggy and hazy stopping her from connecting the dots. It felt weaker than it had when she had been trying to figure out Ladybug’s identity in the past, like the answer was tangible, just out of reach. 

“What do you mean?” He wrapped his arms around her waist, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“When you first became Carapace, I felt the same, like, I couldn’t quite put a finger on how I knew you, but there was something familiar anyway. I realised later when you were making your awful excuses, but if you feel that way about Chat Noir then maybe… maybe he’s closer to us than we think.”

He was close to them, he was… He… She knew who he was, she just couldn’t grasp the answer, that fog filling her mind and distorting her thoughts before she could put her finger on it.

“You think we know Chat Noir? Like as civilians?” His eyebrows furrowed, clearly trying to grasp at whatever threads of recognition he had. She opened her mouth to continue, when a blur of green zipped out of Nino’s pocket, floating in front of the two of them.

“You shouldn’t be trying to figure out Chat Noir’s identity!”

She frowned, “I know, I don’t think I can anyway.”

“That would be my doing!” Trixx appeared in the air beside Wayzz, or maybe they’d been there the whole time. She couldn’t tell if Trixx was just fast, or if they were using their abilities to mask their presence with illusions - the kwamis said they couldn’t use their powers without a holder, but Trixx always seemed to move around or appear out of nowhere in ways that Wayzz didn’t seem capable of, so Alya wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. She’d ask Marinette at some point.

“Or, well, that kind of power comes from my domain.” Wayzz seemed a little indignant at Trixx’ taking credit, something prideful in his expression that she’d never seen before in the usually calm and passive kwami.

“Trixx, the quantum mask was a combined effort-”

“So there is magic interfering?” She cut him off, she didn’t know if the kwamis could fight, or if millennia spent together would cast any genuine bitterness between them null, but she didn’t really want to find out. She had enough on her plate without having to mediate a row between the kwamis.

Trixx sent Wayzz a smug look, before drifting over to nestle in Alya’s hair, “I don’t know, what is magic anyway?”

She scowled, obviously it was too much to ask for her kwami to be helpful. Still, she supposed that for a being that had existed for longer than Alya could even comprehend, their issues must seem trivial.

She glanced back at Nino’s reflection, his face still screwed up in concentration.

“Wayzz is right, we shouldn’t be trying to figure out his identity.”

He nodded, though he seemed to be lost in thought.

She pulled her hair into a loose bun on the top of her head, before dragging Nino out into the living room. Her parents had gone to bed a while ago, and the quiet that filled the flat was enough to let her know the twins were fast asleep. Only Nora was still awake, sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her phone with a scowl on her face- probably arguing with Kouki online again.

She settled on the other end of the sofa, and Nino lay across her lap, his eyebrows still furrowed, deep in thought. She left him to his thinking, it wasn’t like it would take him anywhere, the kwamis had told them that much, and turned her attention to the TV.

“We still haven’t heard any word from the heroes of Paris, and with an unusual absence in akumas over the last few days, people are anxiously awaiting the next development in this ongoing war for the miraculous.”

Alya glared at Nadja Chamack, trying to swallow back the rising frustration she felt towards the presenter. Wasn’t she meant to be Sabine’s friend? Marinette was her daughter’s babysitter? And yet she was choosing to bash Marinette on TV?

Begrudgingly, she conceded that Nadja wasn’t necessarily bashing Marinette, she was just reporting the news. Still, it rubbed Alya the wrong way that someone could put aside their relationships like that just for the sake of their job.

Besides, they were going to make a statement! They were working on it! Why did no one in Paris seem to understand the fact that Marinette’s world had just completely shifted and that she needed time?

“The people on your blog are dicks, Alya.”

She sent Nora a questioning look. Half of Paris followed her blog, since it had always been the most reputable source of information about the heroes; but it was a blog on the internet, which meant she inevitably had hundreds of hate comments and people being general assholes in her forums.

It surprised her though, that this was the first time she’d properly thought about her blog since… since Saturday.

From the first moment Stoneheart had appeared, the Ladyblog was always on her mind. It was more than a hobby, or a first step into her future career (though it was those things as well), it was her identity, her driving force, a way to rationalise and cope with the ongoing terrorism of Paris. It was a way to process whatever traumatic attack had happened that day - or express her exasperation at M.Pigeon being akumatised again - in a way that was logical, facts and statistics, and made her feel like she was doing something to help the heroes.

She also just really liked superheroes, sue her.

But since Hawkmoth and Mayura had shown up on Saturday night, her blog had been nothing more than a passing thought, a vague consideration when trying to figure out the next step forward.

“What are they saying?” She already knew the answer, she’d spent hours scrolling through social media watching people complain and fear-monger and act as if Marinette wasn’t a child being targeted by a fucking terrorist. But then it was just as bad when they did acknowledge that and decide that she was too young, too irresponsible, to be Ladybug, as if she hadn’t saved the city more times than anyone could count.

“Same as what they’re saying on the TV. I’ve been telling them to piss off, but they won’t stop pestering you for information.”

She scowled, “It’s like no one understands that we’re dealing with so much shit right now! Marinette’s gonna make a statement, but everyone’s just so- so insensitive!”

Nino sat up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him as he spoke up, “They’ve been harassing us at school too- I mean, M.Damocles and Chloé got a bunch of screens and barriers put up to try and keep them away, but they still try to get past them.”

Nora ground her fists together, her face twisting into a scowl, “If the law wasn’t holding me back, I’d make them pay for-”

“I think we can handle ourselves, Anansi.” The last thing Alya needed was her sister catching assault charges with everything else going on, “But thanks, I appreciate the sentiment.”

Nora raised her eyebrow, but turned back to aggressively typing something on her phone, “Suit yourself, little sis’.”

It had been five days since The Reveal. 

She was fine. Absolutely fine. Despite what her parents and Chat and Tikki might think, she was not being overly paranoid by putting traps and alarms on every window and door in their hotel suite. Hawkmoth could attack them at any moment, she needed to keep her guard up.

Master Fu hadn’t spoken to her yet. He’d left the Fox and Turtle Miraculous with Alya and Nino and according to Chloé some old guy had shown up to tell her she could keep the Bee Miraculous, but he hadn’t contacted her or Chat all week. Did he blame her for everything? She didn’t blame him if he did, after all, she had failed, she’d broken the number one rule and let her identity be revealed and she’d almost lost to Hawkmoth and she was a terrible Ladybug. Granted, she hadn’t actually turned her phone on since Sunday, after her number had been leaked to the public, so maybe he had tried to call her but surely then if he hadn’t been able to get through to her he would have spoken to Chat or Alya or Nino or even Chloé about it, right?

Or maybe he was just trying to keep his distance to protect the rest of the Miracle Box. 

Still, she hated not knowing, she hated how she was completely in the dark about everything right now. Her parents wouldn’t let her watch the news or use social media, so her only updates about the outside world came from Chat. 

And so she planned, listing every possibility for the future, coming up with solutions for any akuma or threat Hawkmoth might send her way.

She was fine. She wasn’t spiralling or “getting anxious”, she was just trying to be prepared. Which was why the floor of her hotel room was completely covered with pages of bullet point lists and plans. Because she needed to be prepared for any scenario.

Her current list took note of all the ways she could destroy all the other lists she had made, since leaving a paper trail of her thoughts probably wasn’t the smartest with Hawkmoth around, and her lock-box diary wasn’t exactly secure enough to protect them.

The fireplace was probably the most logical, maybe she could ask Chloé if she had access to an incinerator…

A knock on the door interrupted her musings. She didn’t have time to even consider turning her guest away before the door swung open and Chloé strutted in.

It was one of her least favourite things about staying in Le Grand Paris- second only to the fact that she had to be followed by security guards any time she left her room to make sure she wasn’t harassed or kidnapped or killed- as if she wasn’t Ladybug and perfectly able to handle herself (but clearly she wasn’t, because she had failed and now all of Paris knew her name).

But since Le Grand Paris was Chloé’s home, and nobody in Chloé’s life had taught her the word “no”, her room was constantly being invaded by her childhood bully/reluctant ally/slightly obsessed fangirl (that was kind of funny, watching Chloé Bourgeois try to reconcile the fact that Ladybug, her hero, was Marinette, and that therefore, she’d cosplayed Marinette). 

“Dupain-Cheng! Did you see the press conference daddy just did?” Chloé spared a glance to the television screen, which was currently covered in bits of paper Marinette had taped-up in an attempt to organise her thoughts. “Of course not. Well, I’ll catch you up. Move over.”

Marinette begrudgingly shuffled across the sofa, giving her enough room to sit beside her. Weirdly enough, the not-quite-friendship she had with Chloé was one of the few neutral/positive things that had come out of everything. She didn’t necessarily like Chloé, but she treated Marinette like a person, chatting to her normally instead of treating her like she was going to fall apart and have a breakdown if she said anything wrong (which admittedly, Marinette might, but being treated weirdly only made her feel worse).

Besides, Chloé was determined to buy Marinette’s forgiveness, and Marinette wasn’t exactly going to tell her that wasn’t how that worked if it meant getting expensive fabrics to sew and 5-star meals for free. Was it a little selfish? Probably, but she had bigger problems right now than slightly taking advantage of Chloé’s hospitality.

Contrary to what Marinette might believe, Chloé was not trying to buy her forgiveness.

No, as difficult as it was to accept, Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug, and after many hours of violently swearing at her ceiling (because she had cosplayed Marinette Dupain-Cheng! It was utterly ridiculous!), she had decided that maybe, possibly, Marinette might deserve to not get murdered in her home by Hawkmoth just because he wanted some tacky costume jewellery. 

And so here they were, with Marinette in her hotel (it was one of the cheaper suites, of course), with security outside her and her parent’s rooms (because it would cause a scandal if people found out Ladybug was attacked in her father’s hotel), and her and Marinette sitting on a sofa together talking civilly (because it looked good if she was Ladybug’s friend, okay? ).

Besides, Adrien wanted Dupain-Cheng to be safe, so she didn’t really have a choice.

“So yeah, the police and city hall are gonna let you and the alley cat do your superhero stuff… whatever,” it wasn’t whatever, but she couldn’t let Marinette know she cared, her reputation would be ruined, she had to maintain an air of being above whatever Dupain-Cheng did.

Anyway, she continued, picking at her nail beds as she spoke. “...but people are kinda concerned that you’re fifteen and so there’s all this utterly ridiculous controversy, but daddy basically just said that what you do is voluntary so he’s not responsible.” 

She scoffed, her father had always been a bit of a pushover, saying whatever he needed to to not take responsibility for anything. Not that she minded much, having a rich and powerful pushover dad was very useful.

“Thanks Chloé.” She looked up at Marinette for the first time since she’d arrived in the room, something twisting uncomfortably in her stomach, breath catching a little as she met Marinette’s eyes. She looked so… soft , and kind. It was so different from the way Marinette normally looked at her…

She stood up, startling Marinette and feigning a look of disinterest. “We’re filming your interview this afternoon and you are not wearing that .” Honestly, the slouchy pink hoodie and legging and messy bun were a crime against fashion, and unless Marinette wanted to look like the main character in a Wattpad fanfic, she needed a makeover. “Come on, I guess you can borrow one of my dresses.”

She didn’t wait for Marinette to reply, gripping her wrist with a little more force than was necessary and dragging her out of the room.

Chloé was a force to be reckoned with. 

Marinette had been dragged to Chloé’s room, forced into a million different outfits before Chloé decided they’d found “the one”, then she was forced to sit at Chloé’s vanity while the girl attacked her with makeup brushes and a million different powders, and then threatened not to move as she approached her with a curling iron (and for a moment, Marinette prayed for an akuma because that would definitely be a less painful death), and finally she was made to sit perfectly still as Chloé painted her nails the same deep-red-almost-black of her earrings (Chloé had complained a lot about the state of her nails, she hadn’t even realised how bad her habit of biting them had become until Chloé pointed it out).

It was… fun, in a weird way. Hanging out with Chloé was very different to the sleepovers she shared with Alya, where the two would stay up far too late engaged in deep conversations and dumb internet quizzes; or the nightly patrols with Chat, where the two of them would talk about everything and nothing, racing each other across the rooftops until they were both too tired to do anything but rest against each other, staring out at the city around them.

No, hanging out with Chloé was quiet and kind of tense. Chloé didn’t really seem interested in small talk, and Marinette didn’t have much to say, and so their silence was only broken by Chloé barking out an instruction or backhanded compliment. But it was a distraction, and right now, that was all Marinette really cared about.

(She really didn’t want to think about the fact she had failed or the way she was maybe-definitely falling in love with Chat or the fact that Hawkmoth could attack at any minute or-)

They’d made their way back to Marinette’s room, where Chloé had abandoned her while she went to pick up Alya and Nino from reception. Chat would be here at some point, but he’d come through her window, like he had every evening after school. They didn’t want people to know she was staying at Le Grand Paris, and Chat showing up might raise suspicions. 

She had about five minutes before they came up, and so Marinette began frantically tidying, shoving all of the scraps of paper that were littered around the room into her wardrobe. At some point, Tikki had joined her efforts, and the room was somewhat clean.

“Tikki, are you sure I should do this?” She flopped backwards onto her bed, and Tikki nestled into her hair, patting her head gently.

“I think everyone is right when they say you won’t be able to wait this out, the press are going to hound you until they have answers, and at least like this it’s on your own terms, with your friends.” Tikki moved to hover above her face, a trail of glitter following her into the air. “But if you aren’t ready, you don’t have to do it now, I’m sure Alya will understand.

Marinette sighed, sinking deeper into the bed. It’s not that she wasn’t ready to do the interview- well, she wasn’t really, but she doubted she ever would be- more that she was worried about what might happen after she did it.

Would people track the set back to Le Grand Paris? Sure, they were going to film in a corner of the room against a white backdrop, but what if people noticed the reflections of the rest of the room in her eyes? Or they overheard staff talking in the corridors and figured out where she was? Or what if-

“DUPAIN-CHENG, YOU ARE MESSING UP YOUR HAIR!”

Marinette shot up, feeling her body instinctively fall into a defensive position, before she realised that it was just Chloé, and her heart slowed back down.

Chloé was saying something else, but she didn’t hear it, her eyes landing on the people who had followed Chloé in.

“Alya! Nino!” Her feet were moving of their own accord as she launched herself into Alya’s arms. It took all her effort not to start crying, although Chloé had probably used some fancy waterproof makeup anyway.

It had been five days since she’d last seen Alya and Nino in person, and suddenly everything felt slightly brighter than it had. Alya’s embrace was so tight she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care, because Alya was safe and okay and here .

“I was so worried about you, Marinette.” The words were soft, vulnerable in a way her and Alya so often were, but the genuine care in her voice snapped something inside her, and started sobbing into Alya’s shoulder, five days of carefully repressed emotions spilling out, makeup be damned.

Chat Noir was her best friend, but there was also always a wall between them made of secret identities and not-so-unrequited love and a broken timeline where he sat alone, dressed in white, all because she had dared to love him in another life.

With Alya, it was simpler. It was so, so easy to break with Alya, because there was no wall to break down, no double lives to reconcile, their friendship had only ever really existed in their civilian lives, even with Alya’s brief stints as Rena Rouge.

And so she cried, clinging to Alya even tighter, until her eyes were dry and she was left gasping for breath, laughing weakly as she pulled away. “I missed you so much.”

She’d spoken to her friend through the week, but the distance between them couldn’t be reconciled talking through a screen, and god had she missed her. Even with her parents and Chat Noir always by her side, she’d felt the weight of Alya’s absence, constantly terrified that Hawkmoth might have attacked her, or something could have happened, constantly guilty for putting her friend on the front lines of this war, for making her watch as she died.

But now Alya was here and she was safe and hugging her back and everything felt slightly more okay than it had five minutes ago.

Alya laughed back, and she was just as choked with tears, “I missed you too.”

Seeing Marinette again was like a breath of fresh air. For the last five days her chest had been tight, no matter how many video calls and texts the two exchanged, it was impossible to shake the image of Marinette, sprawled across the rubble at the base of the Eiffel Tower, bleeding out. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was her friend’s bruised and bloody face as Chat Noir screamed for her to get her to safety.

Seeing Marinette in person pushed the memory to the back of her mind. Seeing her living and breathing and smiling through her tears reopened her lungs, letting her breathe again. Because Marinette was here and alive and… not fine, but getting there, and the world was okay again.

“You’re Ladybug! All this time you’ve been Ladybug!” The accusation was weak, the teasing tone lost to the way her throat was still wet with tears. 

Marinette nodded, “and you’re Rena Rouge…”

They laughed, and ended up hugging again and all Alya could focus on was the sound of Marinette’s heartbeat and the fact it was a little too fast but that’s better than the way it had been far too slow when Alya had picked her up from the rubble and then non-existent as she’d carried her across Paris.

At some point Chloé had dragged Nino out onto the balcony to give them some privacy, and for the second time since Alya met her, she found herself thankful to the blonde.

“I love you Marinette, whatever happens, I’m here. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

Marinette pulled away and met her eyes, and Alya wanted to kick herself because the expression was just so Ladybug and somehow she’d missed the fact that the stubborn glint and slight twitch of her eyes had been Marinette’s first. How had she missed her best friend just because she had a mask over her face?

“I know Als, I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug.

Of course that goody-two-shoes got everything. Of course Marinette got to be some adored superhero, that prissy little bitch -

“Lila! I’m leaving now. There’s food in the fridge.”

She scowled at the wall. Ever since Ladybug’s identity had been revealed, her mum had been extra busy at the embassy. Apparently a bunch of world leaders were concerned about the fact that Marinette was still a child or whatever, and half the city was trying to leave Paris and France so they wouldn’t get caught up in Hawkmoth’s inevitable victory.

And yet for some reason, people were still worshipping Marinette, still calling her their hero and singing her praises she didn’t deserve for messing up everybody else's lives. Maybe if Marinette had never gotten those stupid earrings, she wouldn’t have been so obnoxious and ruined Lila’s shot with Adrien.

She couldn’t wait for Hawkmoth to knock Marinette off her stupid little pedestal - although he was taking his sweet time with it, why not just take her stupid earrings now he knew who she was?

An inky black butterfly flew into her room, and she watched it come closer, sinking into her necklace.

“What a brilliant idea, Volpina…”

Everything about this was weird.

Nino had almost come to terms with the fact that Marinette was Ladybug, he’d finally managed to wrap his head around it- and then Chat Noir had shown up, and the puzzle that was Marinette/Ladybug fell apart again.

“Did you miss me, Chaton?”

It wasn’t that Marinette wasn’t confident (sans her interactions with Adrien) but seeing Marinette flirting with Chat Noir fucked with his mind in so many ways. Wayzz had said it was the lingering effects of the “quantum masking”, whatever that meant.

“You know every moment without you is claw-ful, Buginette.”

It was just so weird to see Marinette act like this. Before Hawkmoth and the superheroes and everything, Marinette had been another quiet kid in their class, a victim of Chloé’s constant harassment, and so the only time they’d interacted had been for a school project. Marinette had been shy, a bit scatter-brained but nice enough, and that was all he’d ever known her to be.

“I told you not to call me that, Minou.”

And then everything started, Nino made friends with Adrien, and Marinette made friends with Alya, and the two of them came out of their shells. But even then, Marinette had been his girlfriend’s best friend who had a massive crush on his best friend and was almost as much of a disaster around Adrien as Nino had been around his crushes. He’d only ever seen her more confident, sassy side when she was standing up to Chloé in class.

“Aww, a nickname from Milady! I’m flattered.”

But now shy, clumsy Marinette was flirting with a freaking superhero (albeit with a slightly more subdued tone than he was used to Ladybug carrying), and she was a superhero herself who had enlisted him and Alya to help her and it was just weird to watch.

“I’ve literally used that one before, Chat.”

Not to mention the fact that Marinette had a massive crush on Adrien.

Adrien… 

There was something about Adrien-

“And she says they’re just friends.” Alya scoffed from behind him, “Is the camera all set up?”

Nino nodded, thanks to Chloé they’d managed to get a super expensive camera for the interview with more buttons than Nino honestly knew what to do with. He’d always shot short films on his phone, and the most advanced camera he’d ever used was a cheap, second-hand DSLR, so getting to film with an actual, industry-standard, film camera was insane. Not to mention the microphones…

Perks of having rich not-quite-friends, he guessed.

“Okay guys, let’s start!”

Marinette and Alya sat down on the red sofas Chloé had the staff set up, a white paper background hiding the… distinctive interior design of Le Grand Paris. Chat Noir stood behind him, while Chloé was sitting on the other side of the room, scrolling through her phone.

Part of him felt bad for her, she didn’t really have any friends other than Sabrina… But then again, she was a bitch to everyone other than Adrien, so she’d brought it on herself.

He turned his attention back to the camera, framing the shot so it focused on Alya so she could open the interview. He pressed record and gave her a nod, letting her know she could start.

“Hey, I’m Alya Césaire, creator of the Ladyblog. I’m sure you know what happened on Sunday morning,” Marinette shuffled uncomfortably, just out of frame, “so I won’t go into the details. It was… a lot, and I know most Parisians are scared right now.

A lot of people have been expecting a post from the Ladyblog, but I couldn’t bring myself to write one. I had always imagined Ladybug would be a stranger under the mask, but she’s not, she’s my best friend. I don’t know how I missed it, Marinette is incredible in so many ways, and the fact that she saves Paris every other day is only a small part of what makes her so amazing.”

Alya’s eyes glinted with mischief when Marinette started blushing at her words, “I should stop bragging about her though: she’s as red as a tomato right now, although that might be because of the cat-ch behind the camera.”

He shot a glance towards the boy standing beside him, suppressing a smile at the hero’s flushed cheeks. Nino zoomed out, panning slightly to bring Marinette into the frame. She was just as red as Chat Noir, glaring at Alya from behind her hands before realising the camera was on her and straightening up.

“Uh… Hello? Hi. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m just a normal girl with a normal life. I help out my parents in the bakery, design clothes, come up with stupidly convoluted plans to ask out my crush, and I’m late to school like, every day,” she laughed a little, before sobering up, looking right at the camera, “but I’m also Ladybug.”

Nino zoomed in on Marinette.

“I’m scared, like, all the time, because if I mess up or fail, it could mean the end of the world, but despite my fear, I will always keep fighting, because I am Ladybug, and I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and at the end of the day I love my friends and family and city a thousand times more than I fear Hawkmoth and his akumas.

I’ve made this promise before and I want to make it again: no matter what happens or who tries to hurt you, Ladybug and Chat Noir will always be here to save the day.”

He widened the shot, bringing Alya back into the frame as Marinette finished her speech. The zooms were a bit messy, but nothing he couldn’t fix with a small jump cut later, and since they only had one camera it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

Beside him, Chat Noir was blushing, his weird alien eyes locked on Marinette, who met his gaze with a soft smile.

He debated panning the camera around to capture the dumb, lovestruck expression on his face, although that would probably reveal that they were filming in Chloé’s hotel, and outing Marinette’s location to Hawkmoth was the last thing he wanted to do. So instead he settled for snapping a quick photo with his phone (Alya would kill him if he didn’t capture the “Ladynoir” moment in some way). Chat Noir was either unaware or didn’t care that the photo had been taken as he watched Marinette.

“You heard it here first! Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug, and she’s gonna kick Hawkmoth’s butt!”

Alya wrapped up the video, and Nino ended the recording, moving to the sofa so Alya could have access to the camera and check over the footage.

She’d come out of herself since Sunday, throwing herself into plotting and scheming and helping Marinette, but there was still a trace of uncertainty in her that was so foreign to see in Alya that it made him feel uneasy. 

He was there for her though, as much as she would let him be, pushing down his own fears about what was to come so that he could support her. 

Chat Noir didn’t seem to be faring much better. Nino had fought by his side enough to recognise when the hero was at ease, and he definitely wasn’t right now. The constant tension he radiated was tangible, only calming slightly when Marinette was there.

He wondered if Chat Noir had struggled to see Marinette and Ladybug as the same person, since he didn’t know Marinette without the mask. Was he seeing a whole new side to his friend, or did Ladybug act more like Marinette when it was just the two of them?

Alya didn’t have a problem with it, apparently Marinette acted like Ladybug all the time, and she’d spent more time kicking herself for not seeing it sooner than struggling to wrap her head around her friend’s dual identity.

Adrien hadn’t said much about it, actually, come to think of it, Adrien hadn’t said much at all over the last few days. He always had this distant look in his eye, only really intervening in conversations when necessary, constantly fidgeting and biting his lip and checking his phone like he was waiting for something.

They were all anxious right now, for obvious reasons, and Nino knew Adrien well enough to recognise his friend’s worry. He wanted to tell him everything would be fine, that he and Alya and the other heroes were protecting Marinette, but he couldn’t exactly tell Adrien that without revealing his identity.

He’d have to ask Marinette if he could tell Adrien who he was at some point, after Chat Noir had told him it wasn’t his place to decide last night. He hated keeping the secret from his friend, he hated lying and leaving Adrien out of so much - Adrien had been excluded from more than he ever deserved, it wasn’t fair to keep him from spending time with the rest of them. Sure, his old man had forbidden him from seeing Marinette, but it wasn’t like Adrien hadn’t snuck out before, hell, he was planning on sneaking out this weekend for the party they were planning for Marinette. They should have at least invited him.

Still, he supposed this was technically “superhero business”.

“Hey, Nino, right?”

Chat Noir sat next to him, with a smile that was so similar to Adrien’s “model smile” that it made him wince internally. Adrien always put it on when he felt awkward, or didn’t quite know what to say, he didn’t know if it was the same for Chat Noir, but from the few interactions he’d had with him, it seemed like it.

“Yeah, hey dude.” His fingers drummed against the arm of the sofa as he wracked his brain for something to say; he’d never really spoken to Chat Noir for anything that wasn’t strictly hero business. “Did you urgh… Did you need something?” He cringed inwardly. That was the least chill thing he could have said. “I mean, what’s up?”

“Marinette’s talking to Alya, I figured I’d give them some space.” Chat Noir bit his lip, glancing over his shoulder towards the balcony Marinette and Alya had moved to.

Nino followed his gaze. He couldn’t really see Marinette past the wall she was sitting against, but he could see Alya’s sombre expression, a mix between pity and worry and care written across her face as she spoke to Marinette.

He frowned, “Alya missed her, she’s been really worried. We both have.”

Chat Noir hummed in response, keeping his gaze fixed on the girls for another moment, before turning back to Nino with that same forced smile.

He scanned his brain for something to say, desperate not to fall back into awkward silence.

“Crazy that she’s Ladybug, huh?” He panicked when Chat Noir’s brow furrowed, his eyebrow raised in an expression somewhere between confusion and disbelief. “Not that she isn’t awesome! Marinette’s great! Super cool! She’s just also…” He gestured wildly. He hadn’t meant to imply that Marinette wasn't capable of being Ladybug, especially not to the certified number-one Ladybug simp who also happened to wield the power of ultimate destruction…

Not that he thought Chat Noir would hurt him, but he’d seen first-hand just how protective the hero was over Ladybug.

Chat Noir grinned and Nino relaxed a little, “She’s like that as Ladybug - not as clumsy - but a lot more ‘Marinette’ than what you see on the news, I guess?” 

That made sense, he’d probably be mortified if Paris found out that the super awesome Carapace was really a massive, awkward dork behind the mask, and he didn’t have the reputation of being Paris’ perfect hero, or the millions of people obsessing over his alter ego’s every decision that Marinette did. It was no surprise she hid things from the public - Adrien did the same.

He hadn’t realised how much pressure she was probably under, not really, but there was no way he or Alya or Adrien or Chat Noir would let her carry that alone anymore.

“What about you, dude? Are you different without the cat suit?”

Something flashed in Chat Noir’s eyes, though Nino wasn’t entirely sure what, and he let out a sharp laugh.

“If you saw me without the mask, Nino, you’d have no idea it was me.”

He frowned. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite figure out. It was the same weird feeling he’d felt last night, almost like deja-vu, or a memory that he couldn’t quite recall.

There was something about Chat… Chat Noir was so familiar… So much like-

Chloé dropped onto the sofa between them, shattering the vague sense of recognition that he had been grasping at. “What are you losers talking about?”

“Chloé.” Chat Noir sounded like he was reprimanding a child. Chloé pouted, whining like a kid, and Nino had to hold back a snort as he realised it wasn’t an incorrect comparison to make.

“What!? I’m Queen Bee, I deserve to be a part of superhero talks.”

Nino’s eyes widened. He couldn’t remember whether or not it was okay for Chloé to know about them or not, and he really shouldn’t confirm anything while Alya wasn’t there. “Superheroes? What super-”

“You and your girlfriend aren’t subtle, DJ Headache.”

Oh… Yeah. Chat had said last night that she would probably put the pieces together. He nodded awkwardly: the conversation was difficult enough when it was just him and the superhero he’d only ever really known on a professional level, and now Chloé was involved? 

Thankfully, Chat Noir spoke up before he had to say something. “Hey, Chloé? Thanks for getting Marinette and her parents a room here.”

“Yeah, whatever, you mangy cat. I’m a superhero aren’t I?” Which she’d mentioned half a million times in the last four days alone. If he had a euro for every time Chloé bragged about being Queen Bee, he’d probably have the budget for a Hollywood film.

Still, he should probably make an effort to be friends with Chloé if they were going to be working together. He’d only actually fought with Queen Bee twice since she’d been given her miraculous, and his interactions with Chloé had left a lot to be desired.

“I know we’ve never really been friends, dudette, but you’ve been kinda cool this past week, so, uhh, thanks.”

She shot him a look he couldn’t quite figure out, before her lips twisted into a smug grin. “ I know, I’m just so amazing, aren’t I?”

Nino bit back a groan. Operation: be-sort-of-friends-with-Chloé was going to be impossible.

Marinette dropped into the chair on her balcony, pressed as far back against the wall as possible so no one in the street below would be able to catch a glimpse of their fallen hero. She felt like she was shaking, all too aware of the scratchy texture of the red, gauzy dress Chloé had given her, and the weight of the reapplied makeup on her face, and the sound of cars and chatter far below them.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the burning itch in her skin, the need to move as her senses heightened and her pulse screamed. Normally she’d transform, letting the sensation fade as she raced across the rooftops of Paris, or she would focus the energy into a new design, or another convoluted plan to ask Adrien out.

Now though, there was nothing for her to do but let the feeling simmer, trying to ignore the rising panic and buzzing in her skin as Alya sat beside her.

“Do you think that was good?”

She felt so for stupid sitting there, acting like she hadn’t failed the city, acting like this wasn’t all her fault. She’d never been good with the cameras either, always hyper aware of the millions of ways she could fuck it up, what if she stumbled over her words? What if she wasn’t concise enough and her ramblings were misconstrued and then Paris would hate her? She’d never been good with the attention.

Although, she thought bitterly, that was all she’d ever know from now on. She wasn’t just Marinette anymore, she’d sealed her fate by doing the interview without her costume, and now she would only ever be Ladybug- the girl who failed.

“Girl? It was amazing! I’ll have it edited and posted by tonight.”

Alya’s enthusiasm was normally contagious, her smile so bright it was almost impossible not to feel a little more confident and self assured when she was by your side. Almost, because right now she had fallen so far that Alya’s words felt… empty, distant, they didn’t reach her like they might have once upon a time, because Marinette had failed. She’d fucked up and she hadn’t been there to clean up the mess she’d made because she was too busy moping.

She forced a grateful smile, focussing her attention on the expanse of rooftops that stretched out before her, mapping out one of her and Chat’s favourite patrol routes with her gaze.

“I just feel bad, y’know? I’ve put my family, my friends, the city, everyone, in danger, while I’ve been hiding away in a five-star hotel feeling sorry for myself. I just…”

“Marinette. You’ve been in hiding because there’s a literal supervillain after you, and god knows you’ve more than earned this kind of luxury treatment. And you didn’t put anyone in danger, Hawkmoth did. Stop blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”

“I have a responsibility, Alya.”

“We have a responsibility. You’re not alone, girl, you don’t have to keep shouldering this burden alone.”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that, or at least, nothing that wouldn’t trap them in an unending back and forth. She didn’t have a choice, this was her duty, and she didn’t want to drag anyone down with her, didn’t want Chat or Alya or Nino or even Chloé to face the danger she did.

Though, it was her fault if they did. She shouldn’t have chosen her friends, shouldn’t have put them in Hawkmoth’s line of fire.

Alya seemed to take her silence as some kind of promise, because she continued, “Besides, I want to kick Hawkmoth’s sorry ass myself for all the times he’s hurt you. If you don’t let me get at least one hit in, I’ll be a little pissed.”

A golden chain around Alya’s neck glinted in the sun, the Fox Miraculous hidden beneath her shirt. She could take it. She could take the Miraculous off Alya and Nino and Chloé and Chat and send them back to Master Fu to pick new holders. That was what was best for Paris, right? Getting the Miraculous away from her and her friends and out of Hawkmoth’s reach?

She couldn’t betray their trust though, she wouldn’t. Besides, Master Fu clearly trusted her, he clearly had a plan, she wouldn’t fuck up even more by going against whatever he was plotting.

And she really didn’t want to do this alone, even if it was selfish.

Still, the fact that it was her friends fighting on the front lines, it was her family in constant danger, only fed the fire burning beneath her skin, the anxiety in her stomach igniting every time she looked into her friend’s eyes and realised she was going to lose everything in this war, all because Marinette had been impulsive, all because she hadn’t acknowledged the danger of calling her friends into the fight.

They couldn’t win this. Whatever chance they’d had had been sundered by her failure.

It was ironic, really, that she was Tikki’s Chosen, when all she ever seemed to do was destroy the world around her.

“How’s school been?” She changed the subject, because she couldn’t respond to Alya without lying and Marinette hated liars.

(Some part of her, some selfish, awful part of her, was relieved that she didn’t have to lie anymore. There was no secret to protect, no dual identity to maintain, no reason to keep lying to everyone around her.)

“Good, I think. We made you a video on Monday, I forgot to tell you.”

“Maman mentioned it, but I’ve been… preoccupied.”

Her mum hadn’t seen the email from Mme.Bustier until Tuesday, the family too busy moving into Le Grand Paris as discreetly as possible and dealing with the police and- 

Monday was a lot…

And then her mum had offered to play the video for her, but the thought of seeing her friends again made her feel… She didn’t know how to describe the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in her stomach, a weight made of guilt and regret and missing her friends and her normal life that hung over her.

She’d meant to watch the video later. But then later had gone from a few hours “later” to a day “later” to the undefined “later” it was now, putting it off each time she considered watching it because she couldn’t shake the inexplicable bad feeling.

“We could watch it now, if you want?”

Did she want to watch it? She knew her friends would be nothing but kind and supportive, but that was the problem: she didn’t deserve it, not after she’d failed them all. 

She nodded, watching as Alya pulled out her phone and scrolled for a moment, before handing the device to Marinette. The thumbnail photo was a blurred frame of Kim, and a small smile pulled at her lips at the sight of it.

She pressed play, unfreezing Kim, who was grinning at the camera, stood on a desk in their classroom. “Hey Marinette! This is a video for you to let you know how awesome you are! Maybe once you’ve kicked Hawkmoth’s butt you can race me up the Eiffel Tower, I bet I’ll win!” 

“Kim!” An exasperated looking Max stepped into frame, close enough to the camera to almost completely block Kim, “Hello Marinette, we believe you’re going to win, one-hundred percent!”

She giggled at her friends’ antics. As a shower of cartoon ladybirds and black cats covered the screen, transitioning to a clip of Nino sitting cross-legged on top of a desk. “You’re like, totally awesome dudette! You’ve always had our backs, with or without your Ladybug costume. Thanks for…” He gestured towards his wrist somewhat subtly, the camouflage Turtle Miraculous buried under all the wristbands and bracelets he wore, “y’know? And everything you do!”

A different animated transition cut him off, this time featuring a black cat pulling the next scene across the frame, a small ladybird sat on its head. It was cute, the art style distinctly Nathaniel’s. Something warm settled in her chest: it must have taken hours for him to animate them, and for the class to put this together.

Marinette let her head rest on Alya’s shoulder as Mylene started talking, Ivan sat beside her.

“You gave me the courage to stand up to my fears! Without you, I’d probably still be scared of everything, and me and Ivan would have never found each other.” That was probably an over exaggeration: Mylene and Ivan were made for each other, they didn’t exactly need her to bring them together.

“Hey, I’m sorry for getting akumatised into Stoneheart… It must have been really scary for you, but you still saved me, and helped to fight back against the people who blamed me. You really are a hero, Marinette. And thank you for helping me talk to Mylene.”

Her cheeks flushed at the praise - she really didn’t deserve it but… but hearing her friends compliments and supportive words felt good, knowing that people - people she cared about - still believed in her…

Ivan wrapped his arm around Mylene’s shoulders, and a bunch of cartoon love hearts circled them, before a bunch of animated cats ran across the screen, revealing the next clip of Chloé and Sabrina.

Sabrina spoke up first, an awkward smile on her face, “Hi Marinette, thank you for being Ladybug.” She hadn’t expected anything more from Sabrina, they weren’t exactly friends. She didn’t have anything against Sabrina specifically, but her rivalry with Chloé tended to spill out and catch Sabrina in the cross-fire.

Chloé scoffed, and Marinette braced herself for whatever backhanded compliment she was going to share, “I guess you’re Ladybug then, Dupain-Cheng? I guess it makes sense, only someone like you could be that self-sacrificing… But, thank you. I guess.”

She paused the video, turning to face Alya. “Did you have to hold her at gunpoint to say that?”

There was no way Chloé Bourgeois had just said “thank you”. She hadn’t even thought that Chloé, the most self-entitled, meanest person she’d ever known, knew how to be grateful. 

Alya snorted, “Surprisingly, no.”

She raised her eyebrow at that. Hawkmoth was more likely to hand over his Miraculous than Chloé was to say “thank you”.

Still, Chloé had been somewhat nicer over the last week, but even then it was hidden behind snide comments and snappy remarks.

A swarm of cartoon ladybirds brought in the next clip as she pressed play, where Alix and Nathaniel were sitting on the stairs in their classroom.

“You’re totally awesome, Marinette!” Alix tapped at the pocket that they used to keep the inactive Bunny Miraculous in, before their future self had taken it back, “I don’t know what the future holds yet, but I know you’ll still be cool then…? ” They winked awkwardly, before groaning. “That sounded so corny… You know what I mean. Love ya!”

There was something comforting about Alix’ assurance. Sure, they hadn’t become Bunnyx yet, and so they didn’t exactly have any more insight into the future than Marinette herself, but they spoke the promise with the same voice Bunnyx had told her she could defeat Chat Blanc with, with the same voice Bunnyx had told her she would one day be the leader of a team of Miraculous holders with.

And besides, if Bunnyx came from a future with Ladybug and Chat Noir, then she couldn’t have completely failed… right?

Maybe… Maybe things would be okay… 

Eventually.

Nathaniel gave Alix a questioning look, before turning back to the camera, “Thanks for being such an amazing friend and hero, Marinette! We all miss you!”

Another cute transition changed the scene to a video of Alya sitting alone in the cloakroom, her back against the purple lockers. Where the other clips had the soft background chatter of the class, Alya’s video was silent, save for her shaky breaths.

She turned to her friend, who’s gaze was determinedly fixed on a black cat on a neighbouring rooftop, a soft flush to her cheeks. It was the same way Marinette often found herself reacting when people showed her videos of Ladybug, the awkwardness of having to watch herself was always difficult to deal with.

She dropped her head back to Alya’s shoulder, shuffling closer to her as the Alya in her screen began to talk.

“I’ve always idolised Ladybug, I’ve always put her on a pedestal, thought of her as perfect: a heroine who could never mess up. But then I watched her fall from the Eiffel Tower.” That guilty feeling in her stomach rose again. She’d failed everyone, she’d failed Alya.

“I was there, I was so close, I could have saved her- but I just… froze, because Ladybug was falling, because that meant that we’d lost, right?” Alya’s voice was heavy with guilt, and Marinette felt another stab of self-hatred because it was her fault Alya blamed herself, if she’d just fought harder, if she’d just been stronger-

“But then I saw my best friend lying in the rubble, and I was terrified and scared, but I also knew that there was no way that Hawkmoth could ever win, there was no way Paris could ever lose, not with Marinette Dupain-Cheng fighting for us.” 

She startled as Alya wrapped her arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a crushing hug while the video continued to play.

“Marinette, you never give up, not even when your own life is at stake. I trust Ladybug even more now because I trust you , Marinette, not because you’re perfect, but because you always do everything you can to be amazing and kind and keep fighting against evil, no matter what. I love you so much, girl.”

Her fingers fumbled to pause the video as she wrapped her arms around Alya in a tight hug. 

“You’re so amazing, Marinette.” Alya’s voice was muffled from where her face was buried in the crook of Marinette’s neck, “I don’t know who I would be without you.”

She shook her head frantically, “No, I don’t know who I would be without you , Als. I didn’t want to be Ladybug, but then I saw you were in danger and I couldn’t let you get hurt and then I failed and I tried to give you my earrings, but then you ran off without your bag and you ended up in trouble again and I couldn’t lose you. Even then, I’d only known you for a day, but you were the first person to stand up for me, and the first person to help me to stand up for myself. I love you so much, Alya. You’re my best friend.”

Alya’s arms tightened around her, “You’re mine too.”

They stayed like that for a moment, before turning back to Alya’s phone.

This time the video seemed to have been filmed in one of the music rooms, if the drum kit and electric piano were anything to go by. Marinette didn’t have much experience with that area of the school, not being very musically inclined, but she knew that Rose and Juleka and Ivan often went there at lunch to rehearse songs for Kitty Section.

Rose stood in the middle of the frame now, with Juleka beside her, clutching a guitar. Ivan was sat by the drums, gently tapping his sticks in the background as Rose began to speak.

“Hey Marinette! I love you so, so, so, so, so much! You’re an amazing Ladybug and an incredible Marinette and so we - Kitty Section - have written you a song!” Rose’s energy bled through the screen, her joy was so infectious that Marinette couldn’t help but smile until her cheeks were aching.

“You’re, like, totally awesome, Marinette.” 

Rose nodded along to Juleka’s mumbling, launching back into another excited ramble. “Luka wrote the melody, and he said he really wants to say thank you, and that you’re really, really amazing!”

Luka… Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t even thought about him since she’d fallen, there had just been so much going on…

The steady beat of the drums began to build, Juleka strumming a much softer melody than she was used to Kitty Section playing. It sounded a lot more like Luka’s music than what the band came up with together. As Rose began to sing, the beat picked up.

“Marinette! You’re really, really cool,

And we really, really miss,

Having you in school!

But you’re really, really awesome,

And you’re really, really kind,

And we’re really really happy,

Just to have you in our lives!”

Marinette giggled as the song came to a close, wiping at the happy tears that had begun to spill from her eyes. The bittersweet feeling brought a lump to her throat. She missed them all so much, she wished she could be at school with them all, laughing and joking and messing around together like they normally did, instead of obsessing over supervillains and the safety of everyone she loved.

She wished she could have been normal kids, like them, she wished she could have been free to be a kid, to live and enjoy school and hang out with her friends like a normal teenager, instead of always being alert to danger, always watching over her shoulder for the next bad thing.

“WE LOVE YOU MARINETTE!”

But she couldn’t change the past, she couldn’t ever have that life, and she was just so, so happy to have the friends she did, to not be alone. In films and comics, superheroes always had to give up their friendships to fulfil their duty, to fight for the greater good. She’d thought she’d done that, she’d thought that her constantly blowing off her friends to fight akumas, that her constantly lying and acting to protect her secret, would have pushed them away, that they would have eventually grown sick of her supposed ‘flakiness’ and deceit and left her.

But they hadn’t. Her friends were writing songs about how much they cared about her, and filming videos just to tell her they believed in her, and even if she didn’t think she deserved all the praise they were giving her, her heart burned with the love she had for them, and the mix of happiness and relief that they were still her friends, even after all the times she’d been willing to sacrifice their friendship to save the city.

Another flurry of animated cats and ladybirds moved across the screen, revealing Adrien, sitting at one of the desks in the classroom. He rubbed at his neck awkwardly, “Hey Marinette… So, you really are our ‘Everyday Ladybug’, huh?” He laughed. It was ironic, really, that he’d made that comparison back on Heroes Day. She’d panicked for a moment when he’d said it, terrified that he’d figured out her secret.  

“I meant it when I told you that on Heroes Day, with or without the mask, you manage to make the world a better place, standing up for what’s right and looking out for others. You’ve helped every single person in this class, not just by saving us from akumas, but by being an amazing friend. There isn’t a single person alive who could be a better Ladybug, because Ladybug is nothing without Marinette. We’re all so grateful to have you, so thank you, for everything.”

She felt her cheeks get even redder, her smile painfully wide. She was incredibly grateful this was a video because if Adrien said that to her in person she would probably (definitely) die on the spot.

Alya gently pried her phone out of Marinette’s hands, pulling away from her side to face her.

“Adrien misses you, he really wanted to see you at some point, but his father…” Alya’s expression soured in what Marinette was pretty sure was a reflection of her own face. Adrien’s father was the third person on her hit list, tied with Chat’s dad, and they were only that low because she had to defeat Hawkmoth and Mayura first.

“I figured.”

“I’m surprised you never trusted him with a Miraculous.” She’d considered it: if she’d had any choice, she might have tried to give him the Bee Miraculous at some point - he’d make an amazing Bee, probably - but Chloé had laid claim to that Miraculous and it would probably cause more problems to choose a new holder than to begrudgingly let Chloé stay on their team.

Besides, Chloé was getting better… Slightly.

Before Bunnyx had shown up, she probably would have given him one of the Zodiac Miraculous, if she’d ever needed them, but if he’d been part of the reason Chat had been akumatised…

“I umm… Something happened, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to have a Miraculous.”

“Wait, why? What happened?” Alya’s eyes furrowed, curiosity written across her face and Marinette shouldn’t have said anything because now Alya wanted answers that she couldn’t give. She couldn’t tell Alya that in another world Adrien had been the catalyst to Chat- to Chat…

White, blue, her body turning to ash.

“Chat…” Her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t tell Alya. She couldn’t tell anyone . It was a memory she had to take with her to her grave, if that was what it took to keep Chat from Hawkmoth’s control. “I can’t. It’s- It’s complicated. Just, something bad, it wasn’t Adrien’s fault, or Chat’s, or anyone’s but mine. But I don’t want it to happen again.”

Alya’s lips parted, and Marinette spoke up again before her friend had the chance to interrogate further: she wouldn’t be able to keep up the façade if she had to directly lie to Alya again. “It’s nothing, seriously Al-”

She felt the explosion more than she heard it, a low tremor echoing through the city, taking hold of her already racing heart and squeezing it so tight that she thought she might die.

She couldn’t do this now. 

She couldn’t face Hawkmoth again. 

She couldn’t do this.

Chapter Text

Her parents were Fine. They were safe at Le Grand Paris and Nino and Chloé were protecting them and everything was Fine.

Except her home was on fire.

Everyone was safe and fine and okay and safe and no one was hurt.

It didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Hawkmoth didn't know she wouldn’t be there, as far as anyone knew, the Dupain-Chengs had been holed up inside the bakery all week.

Which meant that Hawkmoth had been trying to kill her family.

She wanted to be sick.

Flames climbed up the walls of the bakery, her loft room completely obscured by walls of orange and yellow. Her childhood home was ablaze, fire claiming the bakery she’d grown up in, fighting to sunder every bit of the building she and her parents loved so much.

No one was inside, she shouldn’t be upset. It was just wood and brick and mortar; but it was her home, and the overwhelming grief that was flowing through her refused to be suppressed by that logic. She’d taken her first steps in that house, learned to talk and bake and draw and sew. The bakery had seen countless video game tournaments with her parents, sleepovers with her friends, soft moments with Tikki…

She wanted to mourn the loss of it, but she couldn’t: she had a mission, and she couldn’t let herself get so caught up in her emotions when-

“Marinette!” Her dad leaned out of their living room window, waving and screaming frantically in her direction. How- Her papa was at the hotel, he was safe, this couldn’t be-

A flash of orange crossed her peripheral vision.

Lila.

Even through the suit, she could feel the bite of her nails in her palm as her fists clenched, a burning, seething rage flooding her. She’d thought- She’d grieved for a stupid illusion? She hadn’t even realised that she’d started crying. Why would Hawkmoth do that? What point was there in making her think her home was burning? Was it just some sick kind of torture? Or did he want Paris to think she was dead?

A nauseous feeling settled in her stomach.

Whatever reason he’d had, Hawkmoth must have known she wasn’t in the bakery. If she had been, it would have been too easy for her to figure out the illusion.

Her voice shook against her best efforts to keep it level as she spoke into her earpiece, “Chat, Lila’s been akumatised again.”

“Fuck. Volpina?” Chat’s response was almost instant, and even through the static of their communicators, she could hear the scowl in his voice.

She nodded, before remembering that he wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. “Yeah. Keep an eye out for any illusions.”

“Will do, M’lady-nette.” She snorted at the nickname, though the sound was thick with tears, “Rena said to get somewhere safe, she has a plan.”

She scowled at the instruction, she didn’t want to sit tight while her friends threw themselves into danger, especially not against Lila. Volpina was one of the few akumas that had almost bested her with her stupid illusions… She’d almost done it again with her false fire.

It wasn’t like she didn’t trust Alya and Chat - she did - but what if something happened to them? Chat was always prone to throwing himself into danger for her, all it would take was one illusion and Hawkmoth could have his Miraculous! And Alya was capable, but nowhere near as experienced as her and Chat.  She was just worried about them…

“Fine. Just keep me informed.” She shouldn’t be so short with him, she knew that, but she couldn’t help the simmering heat in her chest, the angry resentment towards the world that was starting to surface, spilling out and catching Chat in the process.

Her emotions were so… out of control at the moment! She’d been so good at keeping a tight lid on them, keeping anything that wasn’t good and surface-level suppressed so far within herself to ensure that Hawkmoth could never detect them. Now though, she was crying and breaking and lashing out at everything and she hated it, she hated how out of control she felt, she hated how unpredictable everything was.

She took a shaky breath, pressing her finger to her earpiece.

“Sorry for snapping, Chat.”

A tower of flames flickered in the distance, and a frown tugged at his lips as he watched it. “It’s okay, M’lady.”

It really was fine, he knew she was stressed enough, and being left in the dark was driving her insane, but Alya had a plan, and they needed to know Marinette was safe and out of harm's way to enact it. 

He opened the locator on his staff, fixated on the blinking red dot by the bakery as it moved across the street, stopping in a small alley. She was close enough that she could get to them quickly to capture Volpina’s akuma, but still far enough away that she would be safe.

He hated leaving her alone, he hated that they’d split up again. All it would take was Mayura or Hawkmoth coming out of the shadows and ambushing her, and… 

He didn’t even want to imagine what could happen to her if they attacked her again. 

She was only around the corner, only two streets away from the rooftop he and Alya were hidden on, if anything happened…

He’d only been a few metres away when she’d fallen off the Eiffel Tower.

He shouldn’t think about that. Not right now. 

Marinette had run the second she’d seen the pillar of smoke in the distance, and he and Alya had been following her as closely as they could when she’d informed them about Volpina. They hadn’t meant to split up again, but then Alya had come up with a plan and the sooner they enacted it the sooner all of this would be over and he could take Marinette back to safety.

For now, he just had to trust that she wouldn’t try to go alone if Hawkmoth made another move.

“You ready, Chat Noir?” Alya’s gaze was fixed on a red figure standing on a nearby rooftop, her flute resting just below her lips, ready to call upon her power at any moment.

He nodded, though the motion was lost to the sudden burst of amber light.

“Mirage!”

“Chaton!” Volpina watched her illusion approach Chat Noir, smirking as he spun around, completely oblivious to her trap. “My family, they- Hawkmoth sent an akuma to the bakery!”

She had the illusion!Ladybug burst into tears. She was vaguely aware of Hawkmoth muttering something about being overdramatic, but Ladybug had always been stupidly over the top, like when she’d confronted Lila in the park for no reason other than to protect her prissy, perfect reputation.

And Marinette was such a goody-two shoes, trying to expose her on Heroes Day… God she was pathetic.

She hoped Hawkmoth got her stupid earrings, if only to knock the brat down a peg.

“M’lady… Whatever happens, I promise you we can fix it, because we’re Ladybug and Chat Noir. We’ll save your family and all of Paris- just trust me okay?”

God it was so pathetic, she wanted to gag. Did he seriously think they’d be able to save the day again with their little “power of friendship” schtick? No wonder Ladybug had failed if this was their strategy.

“Like I trusted you not to let me fall?” He looked genuinely taken aback by that, the snide comment clearly hurting him. It was laughable, really, that Paris’ superhero lovers couldn’t even recognise an illusion of their partner.

“M’lady-” He reached out to the illusion, and ‘Ladybug’ recoiled. If he touched her mirage it would be over, she needed to break up their stupid little partnership, sow the seeds of distrust while Ladybug was distracted.

“No Chat! I trusted you and now my identity has been revealed. You’re such a pathetic sideki-”

Her illusion vanished in a puff of orange smoke as Chat Noir’s staff cut through it. He turned to look up at where she was hidden. 

Fuck.

She debated fleeing, but Lila had never been one to run from confrontation: she thrived off the bitterness, loved building up a minefield of traumas and fears that she could set off, breaking the other person.

She ignored Hawkmoth telling her to retreat. What did he know, anyway? He’d know Ladybug’s identity for five days now and hadn’t done anything about it.

Chat Noir spun his staff with more flair than was really necessary, before leaning on it idly. She almost laughed at the display. Did he really think he was impressing anyone with tricks like that? “I’ll give you points for creativity. Trying to break up Ladybug and Chat Noir? Impressive. But you’ve forgotten one thing, Volpina.”

She smirked down at the self-proclaimed hero, “Oh?”

“You’re not the only one that can cast illusions. Reality!”

She barely had time to process the words before she felt someone grab her shoulder, throwing her back against the roof- Chat Noir looked down at her with a cocky grin, and god she wanted to wipe the smirk off his pathetic face. He must have been hidden while Rena Rouge disguised herself as him.

She scowled as he reached down, his finger lightly tapping her necklace as he commanded his power.

“Cataclysm.”

Silence echoed around the alley she’d ducked into, only broken by Chat’s occasional whispered commentary through her earpiece and the tapping of her feet against the cobbles as she paced up and down.

“Lucky Charm.” A watch dropped into her hands, a stupid reminder to be patient. She probably shouldn’t have called on her power without any threat around: she didn’t exactly have any biscuits on her for Tikki if she detransformed…

But Chat had been silent for a good few minutes now, and she was so sick of waiting, and she had no idea if he was okay or not, and-

“Marinette! We’re by the Musée des Arts et Métiers.” She’d gone to the museum several times as a kid, with it being so close to her home, and cheap enough that her maman would take her there any time she was particularly energetic to get her out of the house. She knew the way by heart, didn’t even need to think as she launched her yo-yo into the air, adrenaline racing as she replied, “Are you okay?”

What if she didn’t get there in time? What if Lila had won? What if-

“Yeah, just need you to catch the butterfly!”

“Miraculous Ladybug.”

She tossed her lucky charm into the air, a small smile on her face as it exploded into millions of ladybirds, rushing around the city. It was reassuring to watch the wave of magic wash over the city, removing any trace of Hawkmoth’s presence from her home. It was a reminder that they’d won, that she hadn’t failed again .

She didn’t speak a word to Lila, only giving her a sharp glare before Chat - having the most time before he detransformed - carried her off the roof and out of sight.

Of all the people to be akumatised after everything, she really shouldn’t have been surprised it had been Lila. At least Alya didn’t believe her anymore, if the scowl she’d given the girl was anything to go by; and if Alya had woken up to Lila’s lies, then it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the class followed suit.

That was a relief at least. Honestly she’d been so caught up in everything that had happened that Lila Rossi was the last person she’d bothered to think about.

Alya stood beside her, the sharp beeping of her Miraculous grating on Marinette’s ears, the sound was accompanied by echoed memories of the wind rushing past her, her own Miraculous crying out, hitting the floor with a sudden-

“Go recharge. I’ll meet you at the bakery.” She threw her yo-yo at a nearby chimney, launching herself into the air before her mind had the opportunity to spiral.

The sensation of flying through the air had always been exhilarating, the sudden rush of adrenaline danced with the indestructibility of her magic, the movement felt like a defiance of the Universe, a freedom she’d never known she’d needed. It was incredible, the feel of the air against her skin, the way gravity and the very forces of nature seemed to bend to her will as Creation’s Chosen. She was powerful, alive in ways she didn’t know how to put into words.

To fear falling with the power she had was impossible.

But then she had fallen, and now every descent of her arcs through the air took her back to the tower and the way the sky had rushed further and further away until all she knew was excruciating pain and death.

She didn’t feel so powerful anymore.

There was still the hum of Tikki’s magic around her, warm despite the biting cold of the January winds, but it felt less like a promise of safety and more like an illusion of it. She’d grown too reliant on her Miraculous, had become too comfortable in the knowledge that she could fix everything, that she’d forgotten how to repair damage without a magical reset button.

She barely managed to catch herself before she crashed into a chimney. She hadn’t been this clumsy since she had first transformed, she’d always had some amount of control over herself and her powers - even if that never seemed to translate to her civilian life. Now she just felt like she was stumbling around in the dark with no idea who or where she was.

She liked having control - not in a bossy overbearing way - but she hated being left to wonder, she hated not knowing what was coming next, she hated unpredictability. Hawkmoth’s akumas, for all their chaos, all had the same goal, the same strategy. They were impulsive and different each time, sure, but it was like a video game, with a clear path to follow once she’d put enough pieces together.

But this… None of this was like Hawkmoth. He was being strategic, disappearing and stirring unrest and then targeting someone to try and sow distrust between her and Chat. He’d attacked the bakery, but that had been an illusion, he… He must have known she wouldn’t be there, otherwise it made no sense. Why create an illusion if her or her parents would have destroyed it the second they tried to interact with the fire or flee the house? Why create an illusion of her papa calling for help if there was a chance her real dad was there to disprove it?

But how could he have known she wasn’t there? Alya had covered her with an illusion when she’d left, the press still thought she was there, at least, that’s what Chat had said, so how…?

Her earrings let out a shrill beep as she approached her block. She wouldn’t make it to her roof before her transformation dropped, and she didn’t have any way to recharge Tikki.

The road was swarmed with reporters - she hadn’t really registered them earlier, too concerned for her home to care, but now her stomach flipped at the sea of people outside her childhood home, waiting, watching.

She didn’t have a choice. She had to get into the bakery somehow…

She winced as another string of beeps echoed around her. She needed to get off the roof at least, otherwise she’d be stuck up here with no way down and no phone to call her friends and no food for Tikki to recharge with, completely vulnerable if Hawkmoth was waiting to attack again.

Her yo-yo moved through the air, instinct launching her across the Place de Voyages in a motion she’d repeated a million times before. She swung lower, her feet touching the spongy grass right as her transformation faded away.

Tikki zipped into her pocket before she could be seen, and she felt the light touch of her kwami against her leg as the crowds turned on her.

At least the magic of her transformation meant that she looked no more dishevelled than she had an hour ago. It was an odd thing to care about when the world was falling apart around her, but it was something she could control, she could make sure she looked the part of Ladybug, in the casual but delicately crafted red dress and black blazer Chloé had forced onto her, even if she didn’t feel like her alter-ego anymore.

They were screaming at her, a thousand questions being shouted at once, and Marinette had to fight the urge to take a step back.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have posted the interview they’d just filmed tonight, let that statement be her first now that the world knew her name, so that she could at least have some control over her new life.

But Alya hadn’t had the chance to post it before Volpina attacked, and now she was being swarmed by reporters, all screaming and calling for her, asking questions she didn’t know how to answer, looking to her like she wasn’t falling apart.

She just wanted to go home.

Their words all blended together, nothing beyond the repeated call of her own name registering in her mind. Occasionally she heard “Marinette" echoed through the crowds, but it was drowned out by the far more frequent call of “Ladybug”.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t matter anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng would never be the name people called for in the streets. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was nothing but a piece of trivia in the world’s minds, a piece of gossip, but nothing more.

With or without the mask, she was Ladybug. She would only ever be Ladybug. Whatever childish dreams she’d had of becoming a famed designer, of walking down red carpets in ballgowns she’d crafted herself, of living out some idealistic, perfect life with Adrien Agreste, of being Marinette Dupain-Cheng, successful and talented in her own right, were gone now. She was Ladybug, she had to save the day, be flawless and selfless and a hero for the rest of her life.

It wasn’t the worst reputation to be stuck with, but it felt suffocating nonetheless.

Ladybug couldn’t have dreams and ambitions that weren’t altruistic and selfless. Ladybug should be devoting her life to… to working for charities or something, not fulfilling her own desires to make clothes and build a fashion empire.

Maybe she was selfish, but she wanted to be Marinette again, to be allowed to have those dreams without feeling like she was betraying her city and her duty.

Although, she wasn’t sure she wanted the attention anymore.

She hadn’t thought about her future much that week beyond defeating Hawkmoth, but her fantasies had shifted from a world of high fashion and runways and perfection, so something smaller, quieter: settling down with Chat, Adrien, someone, making clothes and outfits for her kids, living somewhere safe and quiet and far from cameras and paparazzi and Ladybug.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I really need to-” 

At her words, the crowds only grew louder, shouting and screaming and she couldn’t focus on anything or anyone and they just wouldn’t stop.

“I’ll answer your questions, I promise, I just need time to-”

The crowds began to disperse a little, though their calls remained just as loud. Someone stepped in front of her: Sabrina’s dad - it took her a moment to recognise him.

“Marinette? Do you want to come with us?”

She shook her head, all too aware of the cameras trailed on her, watching her every move. “I just… I needed to go inside.”

“Are you sure? With Hawkmoth…” She didn’t want to admit that she was scared to go with the police. After the Commissioner had made it clear she wanted to know secrets about the Miraculous that Marinette was sworn to carry to her grave, she intended to avoid the police as much as she possibly could. Sabrina’s dad might not be directly employed by the Police Préfecture, but there was no way on Earth he hadn’t been asked to find out what he could.

She shook her head again, raising her chin slightly in an attempt to appear more confident than she felt. “I’ll be fine. I just need to check something.”

He hesitated before he nodded. As much as her life had changed in the last few days, people would always trust Ladybug, would always listen to what Ladybug had to say. Another police officer moved to shield her back as Officer Raincomprix escorted her through the crowds until she reached the entrance to the bakery. She would have preferred to go through the front door of the apartment, but she didn’t really want to spend another moment out in the street walking around the building to it.

The door was locked. Of course it was.

She hadn’t exactly expected to be going home any time soon, and so her door key was still buried beneath a pile of clothes in her suitcase at Le Grand Paris.

“Tikki, the door…”

She pressed as close to the glass as she could, shielding Tikki from the crowds of reporters still hounding her. It wasn’t like Tikki could be photographed, but if that many people saw her, it would be a hard secret to deny. When it had just been Mme.Mendeleiev, it had been easy to ask her to stay quiet, but crowds of people whose jobs revolved around sharing information would not be so easily swayed.

And if Sabrina’s dad saw… She really didn’t want him reporting back to the Commissioner or someone about the tiny god giving her powers. If the government decided they wanted access to that kind of power…

Tikki zipped through the glass so quickly that Marinette wasn’t even sure if she’d seen her move until the lock clicked, barely audible over the press around her. She threw the door open and shut as fast as humanly possible (and possibly faster, thanks to her Miraculous).

The closed door did little to muffle the reporters outside, but at least the blacked out glass gave her some semblance of privacy.

There was something about the bakery, something uncomfortable and foreign, that almost made her want to turn and run back out into the sea of reporters.

It was so cold. The bakery was never cold: even in the coldest months, the constant heat from the ovens and holding cabinets would rise through the house, keeping them warm.

Now, the kitchen was abandoned, the ovens hadn’t been used in a week, and the bain-maries and holding cabinets were all bare of the normal pastries and breads and treats that once filled them. The only evidence that there had ever been people and life inside the bakery were the scuff marks of shoes on the floor, and a small scribble on one of the walls that she’d done when she was too young to understand that she shouldn’t draw there.

It was just so… empty, and cold, and quiet in ways that the bakery had never been.

Her papa would probably cry if he saw how desolate it was, she could barely choke back her own tears.

“Marinette…” Tikki brushed her paw across Marinette’s cheek, wiping away the wet trails that stained her skin.

She moved to the back of the shop, dropping to sit on the floor behind the counter, her back pressed against the wall. It was no more private than the rest of the bakery, she was still only a pane of blacked out glass from the reporters stalking her, but curling up in the corner gave the illusion of safety, it let her pretend that it wouldn’t take just one reporter stepping a bit too close to the glass to expose her breakdown to the world.

“Everything’s just so wrong, Tikki. I’m supposed to be able to fix everything but… but I don’t even know where to start.” There were so many threats, so many problems she needed to solve, “Even if we win in the end, I’ll still be in danger, I’ll always be watched and stalked and put on a pedestal, I’ll always be Ladybug- I just want things to be normal again.”

She wanted to go back, back to a time before her identity had been revealed, back to a time before the Miraculous, back to a time when she really had been a normal teenage girl. She loved Tikki and Chat, she didn’t want to give them up, wouldn’t give them up, but all of this… It was too much, a burden she couldn’t carry anymore, a curse as much as it was a blessing.

Before, she’d always been certain that there would be an ending, that she would defeat Hawkmoth and go back to living her normal life. Now that everyone knew who she was, that future was an impossible dream.

She’d never be Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a normal girl with a normal life, ever again.

Tikki’s eyes softened, and the kwami began trailing her paws through Marinette’s loose hair, “We can’t change the past, only focus on making the future. You have so much going on in your head, Marinette, maybe it’s time to share that load, let your friends and parents help you. I don’t know what the future holds anymore than you do, but I know that you’re brave, Marinette, and resilient and kind. You’ll find a new normal, I promise you that.”

She wanted to believe Tikki. She desperately wanted to feel reassured by the words, but…“I don’t think I’m very brave anymore.”

How could she be when she was on the brink of falling apart all the time? How would she ever ‘find a new normal’ and feel okay again, when she couldn’t do anything but wait in fear for Hawkmoth’s next strike?

“Bravery isn’t a lack of fear, but standing up in spite of it. From the very first time you transformed, you’ve faced your fears and self-doubts and saved the world!” Tikki zipped back in front of her, inhuman eyes filled with sincerity, “It’s okay to be scared, Marinette, in fact, that you are afraid makes you even braver.”

“You really think so?” Marinette couldn’t keep the desperation from her voice. Was it so wrong to let herself believe Tikki? Was it so wrong to want to be reassured? She’d failed, but surely she’d paid off that debt a thousand times over with all the times she’d won? Surely it would be okay to let herself feel okay?

“Absolutely! And I’ve existed for longer than you can even conceive, so you kind of have to take my word for it: I’m wiser than any other being in existence.” Tikki crossed her tiny arms across her chest, feigning a haughty expression. Marinette laughed at the action, and Tikki quickly joined in the giggles, flying to Marinette’s cheek to hug her face, “Trust me, Marinette, you’re amazing.”

“I guess I’ll have to take the word of an ancient god.” Her tone was teasing, but… but Tikki had existed for the entirety of human history, and longer, surely she’d seen worse disasters than this? Surely she could take Tikki’s word for it? Surely it would be stupid for her to doubt a literal god?

Doubt and fear and failure still lingered in her mind, still weighed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe, but maybe one day… Maybe one day they wouldn’t. Maybe one day she would be okay again. 

She brought up her hands to cup Tikki against her face, returning the hug, “Thanks, Tikki.”

“You’re the best holder I’ve ever had, Marinette.” The warmth of Tikki’s magical aura stayed pressed against her flushed skin as she breathed through the last of her tears, sporadic shaky inhales thick with snot and tears as Tikki wiped away the remaining dampness of her cheeks.

She would be okay. Everything would be fine.

She pulled away from Tikki, awkwardly unfurling from her ball in the corner to stand.

Tikki shot her a smile, zipping towards the backdoor of the bakery that led into their house. “Now, let’s go hunt down some cookies! I’m starving.”

She giggled, using her shoulder to push open the door, which was a little stiffer than normal. “I don’t know about cookies, but I might still have some macarons in my room. They’re probably a bit stale though.”

Marinette’s bedroom was a mess.

Torn up posters of Adrien were strewn across the floor, clothes shoved haphazardly into half open draws, cobwebs weaving their way across the room, a thin layer of dust settled on every surface.

Marinette was sitting at her desk, the sound of a pencil scratching against paper echoing through the room as she scribbled something Alya couldn’t see. A red kwami sat in her hair, gently petting Marinette’s head as she worked - Tikki. She’d ever actually met the Ladybug kwami, since she couldn’t show up on the video calls she and Marinette had shared, but Marinette had spoken about her kwami enough that Alya felt a false sense of familiarity towards Tikki.

Alya didn’t really know what to do, feeling slightly guilty for intruding on the soft moment the two were having.

There was something about Marinette’s room that felt… off. Maybe it was because her last memory in here was of passing her unconscious dead body to her mum, maybe it was because the whole room felt more like a museum than anything, a layer of dust preserving whatever tragedy had taken place, remnants of devastation carefully conserved.

She took a tentative step into the room, disturbing the dust and intricately woven cobwebs which ruled it.

“He knew I wouldn’t be here.” Alya startled at the sound of Marinette’s voice, unaware that she had even noticed her entering the room.

“Huh?”

Marinette turned her head to face her, her eyes slightly red and puffy, cheeks flushed, as if she had been crying, although the only other present trace of distress on her friend’s face was her deeply furrowed eyebrows, her blue eyes scanning the room, analytical and determined. “The illusion… Why create an illusion of my house burning down if he thought I was inside? And the dust is settled. No one tried to break in while I wasn’t here.”

So Hawkmoth did know Marinette well enough to know she wasn’t living in the bakery any more. 

Fuck.

She’d been hoping that some other evidence would point to him just being a regular at the bakery, or that he’d stalked the Ladyblog enough to know her friend’s name, but if Hawkmoth hadn’t even tried to break in, if he’d known that she’d left and presumably taken anything important with her, then Marinette couldn’t just be some person he’s heard of in passing. He had to be someone close enough to know she’d left.

She just prayed he wasn’t close enough to her to know where she’d left to.

She hadn’t realised she’d fallen silent until Marinette spoke up again, “Alya?”

She shuffled uncomfortably. She’d wanted to tell Marinette in person, so that she could be there to make sure she was okay, instead of offering vague words of comfort through a screen, but now that she was here, now that she could tell Marinette, something guilty and scared clung to her throat, and forcing the words out felt like a herculean task, “Nino heard him - Hawkmoth - say your name, after….”

She gestured vaguely, unable to verbalise what had happened on Sunday morning, the words caught in the guilt that burrowed through her chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her stomach turned at the way Marinette’s voice cracked. Her voice was soft, quiet, but it echoed through Alya’s head as if she’d shouted.

She shook the discomfort away. She’d only been trying to protect Marinette, and, “We were going to, after the interview we wanted to have a team meeting. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it on your own.”

“Alya- Alya, I’m Ladybug. This is my job, it’s my duty. I know I get freaked out and catastrophize a lot, but I don’t need everyone treating me like I’m made of glass. I can figure it out, I can handle myself. I don’t need you to protect me.” Barely restrained bitterness dripped from Marinette’s voice, and Alya felt that uncomfortably familiar feeling of guilt settle in her stomach once again. She’d never meant to hurt Marinette. She’d never wanted to make her feel like she wasn’t capable. She’d just wanted to help her, to be there for her.

She probably should have known that Marinette would be reluctant to accept that support, that Marinette would probably take it as an attack on her capabilities.

Not that she blamed Marinette for being upset: she’d just found out that Hawkmoth probably knew her personally, and that her friends hadn’t shared that information with her for almost a week. She’d probably feel betrayed as well.

She glanced at Tikki, who didn’t seem to share Marinette’s annoyance, instead giving Alya an encouraging smile.

She took a step forward, “I know that. You’re the most badass, incredible superhero this world has ever seen. You know that if I get started on just how awesome you are I won’t be able to stop- I mean, some of the akumas you’ve fought? I bet even Majestia couldn’t take them on! And you’re kind, Marinette. You and Chat Noir, you go beyond what anyone expects of you, you stick up for akuma victims, comfort them after attacks, take on the burdens of everyone in this city because you care, because you’re amazing and you’re kind and you care.” 

She took another step closer as Marinette averted her gaze, blushing. She would have kept complimenting her, and Marinette deserved every bit of praise she gave, but that wasn’t the point of this conversation, “But just because you can handle yourself, doesn’t mean you have to. We wanted to talk to you as a team because you don’t have to keep carrying all this alone, because we care about you, Marinette, and we want to help you.”

She was only a few steps away from Marinette now, able to see the sketches she’d drawn on a scrap of paper, an artistic mess of doodles and designs and warm up sketches that had turned the white paper black. She prayed her friend wouldn’t push her away, and prayed Marinette would accept the help she was offering. She couldn’t keep watching her attempt to carry this burden alone, she couldn’t keep watching Marinette crumble under the pressure.

Marinette twisted her fingers together, eyes fixated on whatever her hands were doing as she mumbled, “I don’t want you to get hurt. I want you guys to be safe.”

Alya shook her head, taking another step towards Marinette, “No one is going to be safe, not until Hawkmoth is defeated, and I promise you, me and Chat and Nino, we’d all much rather be in danger and by your side, than in danger watching you try to do this alone.”

Marinette didn’t respond, and Alya sent Tikki a pleading look. She had no idea how to convince her friend. For all her strengths and unparalleled intelligence, Marinette was stupidly stubborn and stupidly heroic and stupidly reluctant to accept any kind of support, and Alya was lost on how to get through to her.

Tikki left Marinette’s hair, carefully brushing a fallen strand out of Marinette’s face in an almost maternal motion, “She’s right, Marinette. It’s not a weakness to rely on others. I know you think that you have to find a solution to your situation, but you don’t have to do it alone. Ladybug was never meant to be a solitary hero.”

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed, and Alya could practically hear the way her mind was racing as her friend bit her lip.

She reached her hand out to her, “We want to help, Marinette, please.” 

Marinette looked up with a conflicted expression, glancing towards Tikki, who gave her a gentle nod.

Marinette’s hand met Alya’s, the motion slow and cautious, but there nonetheless, and Alya smiled as her friend finally spoke up.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

Tikki’s gaze never left Marinette’s sleeping form, not when she felt Plagg’s destructive energy approach her, not when he settled by her side, not when he started to talk.

“They’ve gotten themselves in a bit of a mess.”

She hummed in agreement, watching as Marinette rolled over in bed, unease written across her face even in sleep. It had been so long since her holder had slept that Tikki couldn’t bring herself to wake her from whatever nightmare she was in. Reality was no less terrifying for her anyway.

“I wish it hadn’t been them.”

Marinette didn’t deserve this. She’d had hundreds of Holders, she had guided them each through hundreds of wars, she had seen them all struggle and fight and die.

None had been as young as Marinette.

There was only so much empathy she could hold for her creations: as a deity, the Kwami of Creation, she would never quite understand the perspective of mortal beings, she could never sympathise with the fear of Death and Destruction in the way that they did.

But she cared for Marinette. Creation was unbiased, Creation didn’t have favourites, Creation existed beyond the bounds of care… and yet she did love Marinette, in her divine way, and her heart broke at the sight of her Chosen struggling to hold herself together.

She wished she’d never gotten the chance to care for her, she wished Marinette could have stayed far from the Miraculous, she wished she’d never met her - if only to protect her from it all, if only so that she could have been happy.

But Tikki was Creation, she knew that The Universe was far from fair, she knew that this was Marinette’s fate, for good or for bad.

She just wished Marinette could have lived unburdened and untroubled, she didn’t deserve the weight that was on her shoulders.

“They need us, Tikki. He’s a mess, his dad’s a piece of shit, I won’t leave him.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, just that this is a burden they never should have had to carry.”

“Do you think we’ll lose them?”

Marinette rolled over in her bed, letting out a light snore as she shifted into a new position. Selfish as it might be, the idea of leaving her broke Tikki’s immortal heart in a way she’d never felt before.

“I think it might break me if I did.”

She could feel Plagg’s agreement; they’d long since surpassed the need for words to understand each other, a trait passed onto their Chosen.

No matter what, she wouldn’t let Fate take Marinette away from her.

Sabine had known her daughter was a superhero for a while.

It started when Marinette had begun tripping over the air and muddling her words- not that that was unusual in itself, but the sheer frequency of her daughters mishaps all of a sudden was alarming. Not to mention the poorly concealed bags under her eyes, and the constant exhaustion she refused to explain.

Sabine had brushed it off: it was normal for a teenager to be clumsy and uncoordinated as their bodies grew and changed; it was normal for them to be tired with messed up sleep schedules and constant school work; it was normal for them to be anxious as they were exposed to the harsher realities of the world before their minds could properly cope with that information, especially when Paris was being attacked by a superpowered terrorist.

But then Marinette had started flinching at any sudden noise, she’d started skiving and leaving school, she’d started abandoning family time in favour of “homework”.

That wasn’t normal, that wasn’t like Marinette.

But every time she tried to broach the subject with her daughter, Marinette would panic, push herself further and further away, and insist that she was fine through tears and frantic breaths.

So Sabine had stopped asking, watching from a distance as her daughter fell apart, offering what little help and comfort she could to assure Marinette that she would always be there for her, ready to talk when she was.

And then one day she’d seen Ladybug detransform in their living room, and everything had clicked into place.

Marinette wasn’t sleeping because Ladybug was up all night patrolling or fighting akumas. Marinette was getting more and more anxious and clumsy because Ladybug was fighting against a villain who dragged her into harder and harder battles every day. Marinette was pushing everyone away because Ladybug needed to protect her secrets.

God, she was an awful mother.

How had she spent ten months watching her daughter put her life on the line and never realised that it was Marinette? How had she let her carry that responsibility alone for so long?

She had tried to talk to Marinette after that, she had tried to tell her daughter that she knew her secret, but at the mention of Ladybug, Marinette had withdrawn further into herself than ever before, changing the topic immediately and fleeing before Sabine got the chance to tell her what she knew.

She hated it, but she had to wait, she had to let Marinette come to her.

So she pulled back, leaving out trays of pastries and hot chocolate when she knew Ladybug had been out fighting or patrolling, trying to build her daughter’s trust back up by comforting her about the menial things, teasing her about her crush and spending as much time with her as Marinette would allow.

It was hard: watching her daughter put herself in danger every single day and never being able to do anything about it; sitting just below the trapdoor to Marinette’s room and listening to her panicked rambles while never being able to just scoop her up and hold her until she felt okay; knowing that her daughter was quite literally carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and not being able to do anything about it.

She just wished that Marinette finally letting her in hadn’t been the result of such a traumatic, public reveal.

The door that divided her and Tom’s suite from Marinette’s creaked open, soft footsteps padding across the marble floor, shaky breaths that were poorly stifled as Marinette crept into their room.

Adrien must not have stayed tonight, if she was seeking Sabine for comfort. A part of her wished she could be concerned and annoyed with her daughter for sneaking a boy into her room each night, that her daughter was just a normal girl, breaking curfew and going behind her parents back in an act of teenage rebellion. Instead, she was just grateful that Marinette had someone there that she would share her burden with.

Sabine shuffled along the bed, making space for Marinette in between her and Tom, immediately pulling her daughter into her arms and hushing her as she let out a muffled sob.

She remembered when Marinette was younger, when being woken up by her daughter’s midnight panic attacks had been as routine as brushing her teeth. Her worries had been so big even then, when she’d cry into her shoulder about climate change and wars and all the monsters in the world she had no power to change. 

Now Marinette’s fears were too personal, not distant threats that could be lulled away with promises of change, but inevitable dangers, things she had faced before, real monsters instead of the shadows in her room.

She hugged her tighter, combing through Marinette’s hair as she whispered assurances that everything would be okay, that everyone would be safe, that she wasn’t alone.

The words felt empty in the face of everything.

Waking up in Le Grand Paris was always an odd experience. The hotel lacked the distinctive smell of freshly baked bread and the cheerful chatter of customers that made the bakery home.

Their room had a small kitchenette, but nothing big enough for the batches of pastries and breads that Tom woke up each morning to bake. When Tom had woken at the crack of dawn (as was typical of him) and found their daughter curled up in the middle of their bed, he’d left to ask the Mayor for permission to use the hotel kitchen to bake Marinette her favourite foods.

Sabine had watched him leave, a small smile on her face.

It had been almost five hours since then, and she was only slightly concerned by the amount of food her husband must have baked. He’d messaged her a minute ago to let her know he was on his way back to their suite.

She flicked the kettle on, before glancing over to the bed where Marinette was still fast asleep, snoring softly.

She still looked so young, too small to be carrying the burden she did. Marinette still hadn’t explained how exactly she’d become involved in all of this, and if her reaction to the Commissioner’s questioning was anything to go by, Sabine doubted her daughter would open up.

She didn’t like the Commissioner by any means - her obvious priority for her reputation and lack of genuine care left her simmering with anger - however she did agree with her concerns. Someone had pushed her daughter onto the front lines of this war, someone had forced this responsibility onto a child when she was only thirteen, someone had hurt Marinette in ways her daughter didn’t even seem to be aware of.

Marinette shifted, and some of the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Her daughter needed her support, not her anger, and so for now she would let it go. She sat at the edge of the bed, gently brushing Marinette’s fringe out of her eyes. “Marinette, it’s time to wake up.”

“Mmh… fi’mor’inutes.” She buried her face into the pillow as she slurred out her response, and Sabine couldn’t hold back the giggle that spilled from her lips at her daughter’s antics.

“Your dad’s made you breakfast.”

Marinette weakly swatted at the air, clearly not listening to what she’d said. “G’way Tikki…”

“Tikki?” Sabine’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to recall if it was the name of one of Marinette’s friends, or a nickname Ladybug had for Chat Noir, but… but it was completely unfamiliar. Surely she would have heard the name before, Marinette must be quite familiar with this “Tikki” if she was instinctively calling to them in her sleep? And yet, she drew a blank, the name completely foreign to Sabine.

Her echo seemed to have finally got through to Marinette, who shot up in bed, a panicked expression on her face. “Maman!?”

The fear in her eyes was so similar to that she’d had when Sabine had pushed her on her Ladybug secret before the weekend, an identical expression to the one she’d worn when the Commissioner had pushed her for information about the Miraculous… Whoever this “Tikki” was, they were probably related to the secrets her daughter held so close to her chest.

But she wouldn’t get answers by pushing, she knew that Marinette would only shut down and refuse to divulge anything if she did, and so she brushed the information away, resolving to deal with it later as she smiled at her daughter. “Good morning, Marinette.”

The tension left Marinette’s shoulders as she changed the topic, and she let out a groggy yawn, “What time is it?”

“Almost ten, we’ve got a meeting with your teachers in an hour.”

Marinette groaned, flopping back into the bed with all the dignity of an elephant. “Do we have to? There are bigger issues right now…”

She silently agreed with her daughter, of all the things she was worried about right now, Marinette’s education was at the bottom of the list. She couldn’t care about her daughter’s grades when her life was at risk. Even still, “I know, but we agreed to speak to them.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, and once she might have scolded her for the disrespectful action, but her daughter's manners were another thing she wasn’t prioritising at the moment. “I should be getting ready for the press conference tomorrow.”

The press conference. After yesterday’s attack, the kids had returned to the hotel and posted the interview they’d filmed, along with a message calling for a press conference at the Eiffel Tower on Saturday. Sabine wasn’t exactly happy about any of this, but somehow, Marinette had returned from the fight seeming lighter than she had in a long time.

Alya had later told her that Marinette had finally agreed to let her and the others help Marinette, and as grateful as Sabine was that her daughter had friends to help her, the idea of more teenagers being forced to hold this responsibility left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Chat Noir said he and your friends would be here at twelve to help you with that, there’s no use worrying about it now.”

“I know, I just- I thought I could just do the interview with Alya and then be done with the press, but apparently not.”

She brushed her fingers through Marinette’s hair, giving her a sympathetic smile, “I know, sweetie. Are you sure you don’t want me and your dad there?”

She knew her daughter’s answer before she spoke, although she didn’t like it. She didn’t want Marinette to go alone, didn’t want to have to wait with bated breath at home as her only child faced the press. Her friends would be there with her, all suited up, but the fact that a bunch of other teenagers were protecting Marinette did little to ease Sabine’s worries.

There would be police officers there as well, apparently. Roger had phoned her a few hours after the kids had announced it, asking Sabine to inform Marinette that the police would be there to manage the crowds and protect her if anything went wrong.

It wasn’t enough to satisfy her anxieties, but it was better than her daughter facing those reporters alone.

“No, it’s safer if you guys stay here. After yesterday, I think Hawkmoth knows we’re not at the bakery. It’s better not to risk being seen leaving or arriving here.”

Sabine frowned. She was incredibly proud of Marinette, the feeling so strong and overwhelming it felt like she was going to explode sometimes, watching her daughter grow into a respected and intelligent leader, looked up to by all of Paris.

…But she hated that Marinette was holding such a responsibility at such a young age. Her little girl was bearing the weight of the city, trying to protect her and Tom, when she should be at school, gossiping about crushes and stressing about homework and sneaking out to parties instead of sneaking out to fight a war she should have never been involved in.

More than anything, she hated that there was nothing she could do about it.

Sabine wanted to tell Marinette to give up her miraculous, she wanted to tell Marinette to stop being so wonderful and selfless and take care of herself, she wanted to hold her daughter close and never let her go.

But Marinette was too stubborn. Nothing could stop her from being Ladybug. Nothing could take back the responsibility she’d been given.

She couldn’t do anything but offer her daughter a sympathetic smile and ask, “Are you okay after yesterday?”

Marinette sighed, finally getting out of bed and crossing the room as she dismissed Sabine’s concerns with a wave of her hand. “As okay as I can be. It was just Lila, we’ve dealt with her before.”

“Still-”

“I’m fine, Maman. I’m used to it.” She frowned at that, a horrible, burning, uneasy feeling rising in her chest, one that had been simmering since she had first discovered her daughter’s secret. No fifteen year old should be used to putting her life on the line. No fifteen year old should be talking about fighting a terrorist with such casual dismissal that they might have been talking about missed homework.

She opened her mouth to press further, resolving to keep pushing this time, to not let Marinette run away again, only to be cut off by the door bursting open, Tom making his way into the room with trays of baked goods.

Sabine didn’t miss the way Marinette flinched at the sudden sound, or the way her fingers shot up to brush her earrings.

“Ah, my wonderful little Chouchou!” Sabine watched from the bed as he balanced multiple trays in one hand with practised ease as he wrapped an arm around Marinette. “You’re up early.”

Marinette scowled, though the way she lent into Tom’s side betrayed her feigned annoyance, “I do wake up early, thank you very much, remember that one time I got to school before the bell-”

“The fact that it’s an exception speaks volumes, Marinette.” Sabine crossed the room as she teased her daughter, planting a kiss on her forehead before taking some of the trays from Tom’s hand.

“Don’t be mean, honey! She’s probably too busy dreaming about Chat Noir to be up that early.” Tom ruffled her hair, and Marinette made an unsuccessful attempt to duck away - even with her enhanced superhero strength, she was no match for Tom’s teasing. 

Sabine laughed. It had been so long since they’d spent time like this as a family: Marinette had been hiding for so long, withdrawing in an attempt to hide her secret, that moments like these had become rare. 

Marinette scowled, her face flushed, “You’re all so mean to me!”

“All? ” It was Tom who echoed the question in her own mind. She wanted to dismiss it, but the way Marinette paled at the question was enough to relight the concern that burned at her mind.

Marinette froze for a moment, before she forced a laugh, speaking so quickly that Sabine doubted she would have understood were she not used to her daughter’s frantic ramblings, “Both! I meant both; you’re both so mean! Who would ‘all’ even be? There’s only you two!” 

Marinette was many things, but a good liar was not one of them. Truthfully, had she not reacted so drastically, Sabine probably would have brushed it off as a slip of the tongue.

But clearly there was something Marinette wasn’t saying, and she couldn’t let her daughter keep getting hurt.

“Marinette? If there’s anything you want to talk to us-”

Marinette shook her head frantically, pulling away from Tom to busy herself in the kitchenette, “There’s absolutely nothing! Nothing at all! Why would there be anything wrong?” She waved a spoon around, laughing awkwardly.

Sabine met Tom’s eyes with shared concern. She’d known that Marinette had been lying and hiding for a while now, but she’d never realised just how broken the trust between them had become, that Marinette was now so desperate to shoulder her burdens alone instead of being honest and opening up to them.

She’d broken down in front of Sabine when she’d first woken up on Sunday; she’d told Tom that she was scared, but she’d built up so many walls that it was only when everything seemed to be crashing down around her that those two, brief moments of vulnerability had come through.

Sabine took a step towards her daughter, gently prying the spoon from her hand as she raised her eyebrows, urging Marinette to let her in.

She wasn’t letting this go anymore. She wouldn’t let Marinette carry this alone.

Marinette seemed to crumble under her gaze, relinquishing the cutlery as she slumped into a chair, eyes fixed on her hands as she fidgeted. “There’s… It’s nothing bad. I promise. Just… I can’t tell you the full truth, not yet.”

She placed the spoon on the side, before crouching down to meet Marinette’s eyes, outstretched hands cradling Marinette’s. “Then why not start with the things you can tell us? There’s so much of your life we’ve missed, but we’re always here for you Marinette. It doesn’t have to be bad… Tell us about Chat Noir, or the magical yo-yo, or something fun! Or, if you’re ready, we can talk about the bad bits.”

Marinette chewed at her lip, her eyes flitting around the room, looking everywhere but at Tom and Sabine, almost as if searching for something, though Sabine didn’t know what. Eventually her gaze settled somewhere behind Sabine, a questioning look in her eyes, before she gave a slight nod to the air. Sabine resisted the urge to follow her daughter’s eyes and find out what exactly she was looking at - if she wanted to rebuild the trust between her and Marinette, she needed to let Marinette take control of what she shared, no matter how much she wanted to scoop her into her arms and take all her burdens away.

It took another moment for Marinette to respond, her mouth silently forming sounds that never took shape, obviously trying to figure out the best way to continue. Sabine’s grip on her hands tightened encouragingly. 

“I know that I told Alya I’d accept her help, but saying that I will and actually doing it… There are just so many things I can’t say, not because I don’t trust you or because I’m trying to take it all on myself, but because the world could literally end if this information falls into the wrong hands, and the one person who is meant to guide me through this has disappeared without a trace.”

The concern she held for her daughter only deepened at those words. Of course she’d known that Marinette was involved in something bigger than they could really understand, of course she’d known that Marinette was dealing with dangerous powers and people, but the fact that her daughter had knowledge that could end the world was a new level of terrifying. Just how much was Marinette responsible for? She was only a child.

And her mentor - whoever they were - had disappeared? Regardless of Marinette’s opinions of them, Sabine couldn’t suppress the anger that burnt through her towards whatever stranger had placed this burden on her daughter and left her to carry it alone.

She would save that for whenever she met this person, she wasn’t going to take her frustrations out on Marinette, whose only crime was caring too much about the world and people around her.

“Marinette, you’ve always been such a beautiful, independent and smart girl, far too kind and just for this world, and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t feel like I’m going to explode with the pride and love I have for you. But I hate watching you suffer and carry this burden alone. If there are things you can’t say, or you aren’t ready to share, that’s okay, but we’re always, always, here for you. I don’t care about how your magical powers work, or what the miraculous are. What I care about is my daughter and how she feels. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to, but know that we will always be here to offer a shoulder to cry on, or to talk to, or just give you a hug and promise everything will be okay.”

“... I’m scared.” Marinette finally looked up from her hands, eyes wet with tears, “and I know it’s selfish, but I always thought that I would get some happily ever after, that me and Chat would defeat Hawkmoth in some epic fight straight out of a movie, and then reveal ourselves in this cute little coffee shop that Chat loves because they always give us hot chocolate and cookies when we’re out late patrolling, and then we would hang out as friends and be a part of each other’s lives and Paris would be safe and I would be able to become a designer and marry Adrien and have three kids and a hamster-”  Her words were quick and jumbled, cut off by her lack of breath and a choked sob, and Sabine could hear the heartbreak in her voice as she spoke about the future she’d lost.

She wrapped her arms around Marinette, stroking the back of her head as she continued, her words muffled as she cried into Sabine’s shoulder, “but now everyone knows who I am, and for the first time since we defeated Stoneheart properly, I don’t know whether I’ll have any future at all, because Hawkmoth might win, and even if we manage to defeat him, I’ll have to give up my dreams because they’re not what people will want Ladybug to do, and-”

Marinette burst into tears, ugly, breathless sobs stifled by the fabric of Sabine’s nightgown. She gently threaded her fingers through her hair, whispering words of comfort as her daughter cried.

At some point, Tom caught them both in a hug, holding them so tight she could hardly breathe, but it seemed to sooth Marinette a little.

The family stayed in each other's arms for a while, until Sabine’s whispered comforts had become nothing more than vague shushing sounds and Marinette’s sobs had petered off into irregular bursts of shaky breaths. She didn’t pull away until she felt Marinette’s embrace weaken, letting her daughter break the hug in her own time.

She held Marinette’s shoulders, her gaze locked on Marinette’s puffy eyes as she searched for the right words to comfort her.

“It’s not selfish to want to be happy. Just because things didn’t go the way you planned, doesn’t mean that that happily ever after won’t happen, it will just be… different. You and Chat Noir are friends, you always will be, and it isn’t for the people of Paris to decide what your future will be. If you want to be a designer, then I know you’ll become the greatest to ever live, but if your dreams change, that’s okay too. You’ll find a new way to be happy, Marinette, me and your dad will do everything to make sure of it.”

Marinette searched her eyes for a moment,  “Promise?”

All she’d been able to think since she’d discovered Ladybug’s identity, was that her daughter was only fifteen, but at Marinette’s question, it hit her deeper than it ever had before just how young fifteen was.

Marinette was still just a child; a child carrying a weight no person ever should.

She’d told Marinette a hundred times that everything would be okay, but each time it had felt like an empty promise, words told to ease her daughter’s mind, but now she was determined to make sure it was the truth, to do everything she possibly could to protect Marinette.

“I promise.”

“Thank you for meeting with us, Marinette, M.Dupain, Mme.Cheng.”

M.Damocles’ voice was layered with static, his image pixelated and grainy in the corner of the laptop screen. Mme.Bustier nodded in another window, a strained smile on her face.

Sabine returned the expression, clasping Marinette’s hand in her own, just out of sight of the camera.

The last two years had been riddled with meetings with Marinette’s teachers - not that she’d ever informed her daughter about them: she was much too stressed without also having to worry about her teacher’s concerns. Conversations about unauthorised absences and falling asleep in class and disappearing from school for hours on end had become a regular occurrence, and before Sabine had learned the truth, she’d been sick with worry, terrified that Marinette had involved herself with something awful and dangerous…

The truth was almost worse.

She brushed the thought away - she could worry about that later - and instead focused her attention on the screen, watching Marinette through the camera as M.Damocles continued.

“We wanted to discuss the future of Marinette’s schooling after… everything that’s happened to her.” Sabine felt Marinette sink deeper into the sofa at M.Damocles’ hesitation as he fumbled for the right euphemism for Marinette’s tragedy, “These are quite unusual circumstances, and we want to try and figure out the right way forward for Marinette and her peers. As much as we want Marinette to return to school, with a supervillain targeting her we cannot ensure the safety of our other students, but we also don’t want Marinette to fall behind anymore than she already has.

We have two ideas for how we proceed: either Marinette completes the next few weeks of school online until we are able to properly evaluate the threat her return might pose to other students, or Marinette takes a break from her schooling for the rest of the year, and retakes her grade once Hawkmoth has been defeated.”

“You mean hold her back a year?” Marinette shifted as Tom spoke up. It wasn’t a new idea - in previous meetings the prospect of holding Marinette back had always been raised - but Sabine had always fought against it. Her responsibilities as Ladybug aside, Marinette had been happier since the start of 2éme, with Alya and Adrien and a closer friendship with Nino… Asking her to leave her friends behind was cruel.

Besides, Marinette had always been intelligent beyond her years and a quick learner. If Hawkmoth was defeated soon then she could be completely caught up by the end of the year, ready to move onto lycée.

“She still has two terms and the brevet, surely that’s enough to recover her grades?”

Mme.Bustier spoke up, a soft, almost careful, quality to her voice, “It’s not necessarily the grades that we’re concerned about. Marinette’s learning has been severely impacted by her absence over the last two years, and while we’re aware of her… extenuating circumstances, we fear that she might not be at the same level as the rest of her classmates. Even when she is in class, she seems distracted and barely participates. Unless she’s able to catch up on all the content that she’s missed in the last two terms, it might just be in her best interest to repeat the year.”

Marinette stayed silent, anxiously picking at the skin around her nails, her eyes unfocused and constantly flitting towards the window. It didn’t take a genius to know that she hadn’t been paying any attention - not that Sabine blamed her: she had bigger things to be worried about than school.

“Is this a decision we need to make now?”

Mme.Bustier shook her head, “Not at all! As with any other student, we will make the decision about Marinette progressing to Lycée towards the end of the year. However, if this drags out for much longer then it might be easier for Marinette to put her education on hold until September, instead of adding more things to her plate.”

Sabine glanced down at Marinette, who was staring at a black cat on a nearby rooftop, still picking at her skin and chewing on her lip. She forced her hand into Marinette’s, stopping her from tearing away her skin, and dragging her focus back to the present.

She traced circles into Marinette’s palm with her thumb, trying her best to offer what little comfort she could for her daughter, who hesitantly accepted it.

Her other hand danced over the ‘end call’ button as she gave the teachers a forced smile, “Thank you for the offer; we’ll think about it.”

She wrapped Marinette in a hug the second her teachers disappeared from the screen.

From the day she was born, Marinette had been a stubborn girl, always determined to complete whatever she set her mind to. 

When she was six, she’d decided to bake a cake for his birthday. Tom had been woken early in the morning by the smell of burning, he’d rushed down to the bakery to find his six year old daughter covered in flour and cake batter, with a nasty burn on her hand and her cake attempt turned to a mess of charcoal and inedible goop. She’d burnt her hand trying to put the cake in the oven, and had stubbornly persisted in baking the cake despite the pain.

She still had the scar on her hand, though it was faded now, barely noticeable amid the hundreds of others she’d picked up through her life. She’d always been clumsy, and her childhood could be told through the bruises and cuts she’d acquired. They’d always kept a box of plasters on hand, ready for whatever catastrophe the day would bring.

Marinette grew up, and every day he watched her change and learn and grow, but through it all, she remained stubborn.

When she was eight she’d started to teach herself how to sew. Marinette had holed herself up in her room for two whole days, only leaving to eat. By the time she’d come downstairs, her fingers were bloody and pricked with needles, her clothes covered in threads and tiny scraps of fabric, her eyes dark with a lack of sleep, but she was smiling, excitedly presenting a small gift to Sabine, wrapped in pink tissue paper.

It was a purse - slightly too large, made of mismatched fabrics and unlined, far from perfect, but so much neater than it should have been for her first attempt at sewing (he’d later learnt that this was her fifty-second attempt, and that she’d started over each time she deemed her art too messy). Sabine loved it, of course, and still carried it everywhere she went, even though the buttons were starting to fall off and the fabric was frayed and torn from use.

At eleven, Marinette had begun collège at Francois Dupont, a private school she’d gotten into with a near perfect score on her entrance exam, having studied religiously for the entirety of 5éme. There were state schools nearby, but Marinette had been set on getting into Dupont after finding out that some famous designer held competitions at the school, and she’d insisted that it was the perfect way to get into her dream industry. At thirteen, she won Gabriel Agreste’s hat design competition, hosted by the school, and he was so, so, so, overwhelmingly proud of her for following her dreams and crafting her first piece for the runway.

Of course, Tom was disappointed she didn’t want to be a baker, but he cared for his daughter and her happiness a million times more than his work.

And now she was fifteen, and Tom knew that no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he would be able to do to protect his daughter. She wouldn’t give up her responsibilities as Ladybug if the world ended, she’d keep fighting until her very last breath, because Ladybug was Marinette, his stubborn little girl.

He wanted so desperately to lock her up, safe from anyone who might hurt her, but he’d learnt that doing that would mean he’d only hurt her in a different way.

His own dad had never been much of a parent, far too strict and behind in his views. His mum had stuck around for a while, until she’d decided she’d had enough of parenting and gone off to travel the world. They’d never been there for him, and he’d be damned if he ever let Marinette feel even an ounce of the rejection and isolation his parents forced onto him.

As Sabine often reminded him, she needed her space to breathe, to grow, to be her own person, and as much as he hated how much danger she was in, he knew better than to take that away from her.

He just wished she’d been a little more selfish, if only so she would stop endangering herself.

When they discovered Hawkmoth’s identity, Tom wouldn’t waste a single moment before punching the villain for daring to hurt his daughter.

But he couldn’t let that anger spill out a minute sooner than that point. He’d already been akumatised once before, and he refused to put his daughter through that a second time. He wouldn’t make Marinette fight him, he wouldn’t hurt her again. The guilt of hurting her once already carved away at his chest, eating him alive.

She didn’t deserve any of this.

Quiet chatter leaked through the door separating their suite from Marinette’s, and though the words were inaudible, he could hear the severity of their conversation in the absence of laughter and muffled shouts that normally coloured Marinette’s interactions with her friends.

This morning, for a moment, he’d almost been able to pretend she was alright again, when he and Sabine had been teasing her for her inability to wake up… but everything about Marinette was tainted with what had happened, her laughter was a foreign sound, her smiles always forced. The worst part was that she had been like that for a while, distracted and burdened, and he hadn’t even noticed. He hadn’t realised how much she was struggling until everything had broken down.

“I’m worried about her.”

The words were redundant, a truth that didn’t need to be shared, but they weighed on his mind nonetheless, and speaking them aloud felt like finally breathing out after holding his breath.

Sabine nodded solemnly. There was a tiredness to his wife’s face that he hadn’t noticed before, bags beneath her eyes and a permanent crease between her eyebrows that he was certain he shared. “I hate that we can’t do anything to stop her. I hate that we have to let her put herself in danger!”

He didn’t have anything to say in response, there weren’t enough words in the French language to express his fear and worry and anger, and so he wrapped her in a hug, seeking comfort as much as he was giving it. 

“I should go check on them.” Sabine nodded as he pulled away, withholding her usual protest to ‘let them be’ in favour of passing him a tray of the pastries he had baked that morning.

As much as he wanted to respect Marinette’s privacy, every moment she was out of his sight filled him with dread, terrified that Hawkmoth had attacked her and he and Sabine were none the wiser.

He wouldn’t be able to cope if anything happened to her. 

He knocked on the door, pasting an overly enthusiastic smile on his face as he waited for Marinette permission to enter. 

The five of them were gathered together in a circle: Marinette was curled up against the arm of the sofa, with Chat Noir sitting beside her, blushing furiously for some reason (although - he noted, guilt bubbling in his gut - since he’d been akumatised, Chat Noir had always acted slightly flustered around Tom). Chloé was lying across the armchair, scrolling lazily through her phone, Nino was stretched across the floor, and Alya was sitting on the coffee table, holding a large whiteboard that she dropped against the table as he stepped into the room, making a very obvious show of hiding whatever was written there from him.

“I bought food!” He made his way across the room, carefully placing the overloaded tray into the middle of the coffee table in front of Alya. He met Marinette’s eyes for a moment, a silent inquiry as to if she was okay, answered with a quick nod of the head and a forced smile.

“Thanks, papa.”

Adrien watched with bated breath as Tom left the room again, waiting until he heard the click of the door and the soft creak of floorboards to melt back into Marinette’s side. He really didn’t want to cause another Weredad situation by making Tom assume that he and Marinette were-

Priorities. He should probably be focusing on other things right now.

A moment passed in silence before Alya spoke up in a hushed voice, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to confirm that Marinette’s parents hadn’t magically appeared in the room. Marinette had specifically asked them not to involve her parents in this, and however much they all disapproved of her pushing them away, it had taken this long for her to trust them: they weren’t going to push their luck. Yet.

“Okay, so, we know that Hawkmoth likely knows Marinette as a civilian-”

“But I’ve been involved with enough attacks as myself that he might just recognise me from that.” Her voice was even, but he knew her well enough to note the quickened pace and the way her tone rose at the end - more like a question, a call for reassurance, than a genuine suggestion.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, pulling her closer into his arms, hoping she heard the unspoken promise he was trying to convey.

“Right, but there’s a good chance he does know you. So, we need to make a list of everyone close to you who is a potential suspect.” Alya turned to the whiteboard behind her, the squeak of the pen on plastic grating at his ears. 

“I don’t really know anyone who hasn’t been akumatised… Adrien?” He tensed at the mention of his own name, wracking his mind for any way he could defer suspicion without revealing his identity, “-but he can’t be Hawkmoth.” 

He prayed she didn’t notice the breath of relief that escaped him.

“The holder of the butterfly miraculous is able to grant themselves powers, it’s dangerous, but it would be foolish to think that risk would stop Hawkmoth.”

He startled at Wayzz’ voice, certain that his expression was a mirror of Alya’s, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Hawkmoth can akumatise himself?”

It made sense, he supposed. If Hawkmoth could give other people powers, then what was stopping him from akumatising himself? But surely they wouldn’t have overlooked that before? Surely Fu would have told them that Hawkmoth could do that?

Maybe he had, and Marinette had known this whole time…

No, she would have told him if she had known. Besides, why would she have dropped her suspicions about his father if she’d known Hawkmoth could-

His father…

No, Marinette had said he wasn’t Hawkmoth. There was no way he was a supervillain.

“Yeah!” The fox kwami piped up, zipping around the room too quickly for Adrien to track, “it’s kinda stupid, since Nooroo’s concept is transmission and transmitting something to yourself is kind of redundant, but it is technically within the bounds of Nooroo’s power. I remember we had a debate about it some four or five centuries ago, back when the miraculous were first created.”

The other kwamis nodded, some shared recollection passing between them at the fox’ words. Marinette, too, seemed to grow sombre at the mention of Nooroo, though he didn’t fully understand why.

Chloé broke the momentary silence,  “So anyone can be a suspect? Right, who do you know that could be Hawkmoth?”

“Your dad?”

Marinette shook her head at Nino’s accusation, a slight anger tainting her words, “No. There is no universe in which he’s Hawkmoth.”

Adrien was inclined to agree: Tom was the last person he suspected. He was always kind and generous and loved Marinette more than anything - even if he was a little overprotective at times.

Alya nodded, erasing Tom’s name from the whiteboard before she’d even finished writing it, “and he was accounted for for the entirety of Thursday’s attack. Who else?”

The room fell silent for a moment as Marinette wracked her brain. He wasn’t really much help, considering he’d never really been close enough to Marinette to know the ins-and-outs of her social circle, and anything as specific as that was strictly off the table with Ladybug. 

Tikki whispered something to Marinette, who snorted at whatever the kwami had said, “Grandpa? I think just the idea of magic and supervillains would do him in.”

Her grandpa… Bakerix. He stifled a laugh at the idea that the man who had gotten akumatised over bread recipes or something, and been defeated with a sandwich, being Hawkmoth.

Alya frowned, “Do you have any solid proof that it’s not him?”

“What? No? I mean, who would Mayura be? Grandma? Absolutely not.”

“He’s going on the list, purely because we have no good reason not to suspect him.” Alya turned back to the whiteboard, scribbling ‘Roland Dupain’ across the slightly stained surface.

“Jesus Als- Okay, other people I know…”

“Jagged Stone?”

He couldn’t repress his laughter this time, letting out a snort at Nino’s suggestion. He couldn’t imagine Jagged Stone as Hawkmoth… Although the rock star was known for being over the top, and Hawkmoth did have a penchant for dramatics.

“Nino! Serious suggestions only.”

This time it was Chloé who piped up, “M.Damocles?”

“Dude…”

“What! I’m just saying, he’s a pest for you and Chat with his whole owl-sona. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to get the miraculous?”

It was true, M.Damocles was constantly causing problems for them in his misguided attempt to help, but, “He probably has an alibi for most akuma attacks, also there’s security cameras in the school, he would have been spotted sneaking away all the time by now.”

The cameras had been installed at some point over the last year as a way of maintaining the security in the school with all the akuma attacks and people fleeing in and out of the school for shelter. It had been a pain when he’d first noticed them, because half of the hiding places he’d found to transform were now being monitored, and so he’d had to search for new places, which had made him incredibly late to the next few attacks.

He wondered if Marinette had had the same problem, until she whispered, “Wait, there are security cameras in the school? Oh my God, how did I keep my identity secret for so long?”

“Does he have access to that footage? Cause he could be deleting it or something?” Alya asked as she wrote the words ‘M.Damocles? deleting footage?’ beneath Marinette’s grandpa’s name.

“Oh my God- we’re not seriously considering M.Damocles being Hawkmoth, are we?” Marinette groaned, leaning over Adrien to try and erase the writing with her hand, though she was unsuccessful as Alya pulled the whiteboard just out of her reach.

She didn’t move from where she was stretched across his lap as Nino sat up from where he’d been lying on the floor to protest, “His vibes are bad!”

“Moving on!” Alya punctuated her words by underlining M.Damocles’ name, the pen squeaking horribly as she did.

For the serious undertone of their meeting, there wasn’t a single one of them that wasn’t smiling, even Chloé, who probably wouldn’t have been seen dead with anyone in this room before Sunday, had a faint smile on her lips as Alya tried to wrangle them all back to sincerity.

Unfortunately for her, Adrien was very adamantly against being wrangled.

“Speaking of bad vibes: Andre the ice-cream guy?”

The whiteboard pen hit him square in the face with way more force than should have been humanly possible.

The action broke whatever vague sense of professionalism they’d had as the room descended into uncontrollable laughter.

It wasn’t even that funny, but the sudden shift from the tension and fear was enough to make them all snap, relishing in the brief reprieve from the harsh realities of the real world.

Marinette was laughing too - not the light giggle she always used when teasing him, or the half-hearted chuckle she let out when people said things she thought she should find funny, but actually laughing.

His smile widened at the sound, the overwhelming, burning affection he felt for her bursting at the sound of her snorting and wheezing with laughter, drowning out the rest of the group's giggles in favour of listening to her, genuinely happy and laughing for the first time all week. 

He loved her. He loved Marinette so much it was impossible to conceive a world where he didn’t. She was everything to him, her strength and her confidence and her laughter and her awkwardness and her kindness and her passion and- God, he loved her.

He hadn’t stopped loving her, not for a moment since his heart had first skipped a beat, but over the past week there had been so many pieces to slot together, so many layers to sort through, that it had become background noise to the plethora of things he had to worry about.

But listening to her laugh, it hit him just as it had when she’d stood up to Hawkmoth the first time.

The laughter continued, and for a moment it was like they existed in a bubble, free from the burdens of the world. It was the same, stupid laughter over unfunny jokes that they often shared at school, and Adrien relished in the normalcy of it.

“Guys, this is serious!” Alya’s protest was weakened by her own spluttering giggles, but it was enough to have the group take in shaky breaths and try to calm themselves.

“Okay, okay…” Nino paused for a moment, thinking, before his smile fell, replaced with a far more serious expression, “Alix’ dad?”

Marinette hummed, “Alim? I mean, he’s kinda mysterious, has an interest in ancient artifacts, and I know him, kinda? But he doesn’t seem malicious enough to terrorise the city.”

“But Hawkmoth’s only talent is literally manipulating people, so we can’t trust people just because they seem ‘nice.’” Despite Chloé’s mildly condescending tone, she had a point. He didn’t know M.Kubdel, but if the only evidence against him was that he wasn’t mean enough to commit domestic terrorism, then he probably should be their number one suspect.

Alya nodded, “He’s never been akumatised, or targeted by an akuma. Remember Pharaoh? Jali went straight for me, even though his dad pissed him off.” She wrote down M.Kubdel’s name, “Okay, we have one genuine suspect. Who else?”

Chloé gestured towards Alya and Nino, “What about either of your parents? Maybe it’s one of them with the butterfly fetish?” 

Alya scowled at Chloé: despite whatever progress had been made over the last week, there was still a lot of hostility between Chloé and everyone else, “My dad has been with me for multiple attacks, or he’s been at the zoo, accounted for.”

“Same, I mean, not at the zoo, obviously, but my dad works in an office. If he was leaving to make akumas someone would have noticed.”

Marinette opened her mouth to say something, hesitating as her eyes flitted from Chloé to the door, before cautiously asking, “What about Mayor Bourgeois?”

Chloé scoffed, “He’s literally the mayor. He can’t even leave the house without someone hounding him for comments about political nonsense. It would be impossible for him to sneak away on a daily basis without being spotted by security or something.”

“That’s the problem, most of the people who could be Hawkmoth work in very public facing jobs, like, Sabrina’s dad is a police officer, Mylene’s dad works at school, people would notice if-” Alya cut herself off, scrambling off the coffee table to stand, “We’re close.”

Adrien shared a look with Marinette, a question in his eyes that she couldn’t seem to answer. He was somewhat grateful that he wasn’t the only one confused by… whatever had just happened. “What do you mean?”

“I had it! I must have done! Because now my head feels all foggy and I can’t remember what I was thinking! The magical masking shit, it’s trying to protect Hawkmoth’s identity!”

Nino’s eyes widened in realisation, before he let out an annoyed huff, “So we can’t figure out who he is?”

“Not right now, but it means we’re on the right track!”

Marinette sat up, eyes flitting around in the same way they did when she tried to figure out her lucky charms, or when she was piecing together one of her insane plans. For a moment, she said nothing, only occasionally mouthing words he couldn’t read, before turning to the kwami’s that were huddled around the now empty tray of pastries Tom had brought in.

Silently, he mourned the croissants that he hadn't had the opportunity to eat before Tikki consumed them all.

“Tikki, is there any way to get past the Quantum Masking?”

Quantum masking…? He had no idea what that was.

Tikki shook her head, “Only if you are presented with undeniable evidence. The only reason you all know Ladybug’s identity is because you watched her detransform. The only reason Alya was able to figure out Nino’s identity is because he gave it away as a civilian, leaving no room for doubt.”

“So we’d have to come across Hawkmoth’s civilian identity and hope he slips up?” Chloé barked out a laugh, “That’s never going to happen.”

Marinette’s face fell, and he could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts spiralling through her mind. He scowled at Chloé as he wrapped his arms around Marinette, pulling her closer to him.

Admittedly he felt pretty hopeless. Hawkmoth knew everything, sans Adrien’s own identity, and Marinette thought that he knew she’d moved out of the bakery, which meant he probably knew how to find them, and he was playing the game with a new strategy they’d never seen from him before, biding his time and waiting for something before he attacked.

And now they had no way of figuring out who he was without him slipping up first, which he hadn’t done once in the sixteen months they’d been fighting him, so why would he start being so reckless now?

But Marinette didn’t need him to say that, she already knew all the ways they were at a disadvantage. What she needed was reassurance, something to hope for so she wouldn’t give up, because if she did…

“Well then it’s a good thing you’ve got Lady Luck on your side.”

A faint smile graced her lips, “My power is Creation, not Luck.”

It was a conversation they’d had a million times before while sprinting across the rooftops of Paris, debating the limits of their powers. Marinette had always been steadfast in her belief that there was nothing lucky about her power, and that it was creativity that got them out of tight spots, not luck; to which he would respond with some flirtatious pun about being lucky to have her in his life, which often earned him a scoff and a yo-yo to the head.

Tikki shrugged, a knowing smile on her face, “Luck is what you make of it, Marinette!”

Marinette fixed her kwami with a flat look, “Tikki, you are so unhelpful sometimes.”

Tikki grinned, flying up to bop Marinette on the nose, “I’m magically bound to withhold certain information, Marinette!”

Tikki’s tone was much too cheerful for the sinister message in her words. He’d known that Plagg couldn’t tell him Marinette’s identity, but the idea that the kwamis were physically unable to share certain things was just… wrong.

None of the kwamis seemed fazed by the statement, so he supposed it wasn’t as much of a problem for them, but he resolved to talk to Plagg about it later. He couldn’t imagine the kwami of destruction and entropy particularly liking being controlled like that.

Marinette scratched Tikki’s head lightly in the same way he often did with Plagg, “Well, if we can’t get any further in finding Hawkmoth, we should talk about tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to do the press conference dude? Cause Alya could probably make an illusion of you or something.”

Marinette shook her head, “I know, but there’s a good chance it will take more than five-minutes, and I think people are annoyed enough that I’ve been hiding away here, if they find out I didn’t even show up for the press conference I called…”

He squeezed her hand, meeting her eyes, “I’ll be by your side the whole time, we’ll do it together.”

She smiled, and the gesture made his heart ache in a way that was so familiar and yet always felt so foreign and new, especially now, knowing that she liked at least one side of him.

She turned back to the others, eyes burning with the same determination and focus that they often did in battle, when all of the pieces had clicked together and she knew exactly what needed to be done. Granted, this was a press conference and not a life-or-death situation, but seeing a glimpse at her usual self after a week of her being distant or panicked or an awful mix of the two made his heart flutter.

“Nino, you’ll stay here and protect my parents. If anything happens, get them out of Paris ASAP. Alya needs to be there as herself, obviously, people will probably get suspicious if the Ladyblogger doesn’t show. Chloé, I want you to be somewhere in the crowd, and Chat will be by my side in case anything happens.”

“Which it probably will. You’ve basically sent Hawkmoth a free invitation to come and fuck with you.” He shot another glare in Chloé’s direction, which she returned with a flat look. Once again, he agreed with the sentiment, but she really needed to work on her phrasing.

Marinette didn’t seem to be bothered, simply fixing Chloé with an equally flat stare, “Which is why I need you to be on the lookout.”

Chloé rolled her eyes, “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Since when have you been an expert in ‘good ideas’, Chloé?”

Chloé spluttered, frustration written across her face. It wasn’t exactly a fair accusation on Marinette’s part, considering Chloé had been the one to provide her with a safe place for her and her family, and that Chloé had been genuinely trying over the past week.

He spoke up before their bickering escalated into anything more, “I don’t like Marinette’s recklessness either, but we do need to try and get the press to back up a bit, otherwise they could cause more problems for us.”

“Exactly! I mean, if the press turns all of Paris against me then Hawkmoth will get my Miraculous and we absolutely cannot let that happen.” 

…That wasn’t at all what he’d intended to imply, and he certainly hadn’t meant to cause Marinette to start catastrophizing again.

He placed his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her, “I don’t think they’d be very successful, M’lady. The worst most people have to say is that you’re too young: everyone loves you.”

“Still, plenty of people have been akumatised ‘cause they’re concerned or worried about someone. We need to convince people that me and Chat are still the responsible heroes they used to think we were.”

“And we will. I promise. After yesterday, people seem confident we can still take down akumas, at least.” The smile Marinette returned seemed strained, and it took him a moment to understand why: they’d been separated again, he’d told her to stay put while he and Alya dealt with Lila, and then his father had scheduled stupid photoshoot in the evening so he wasn’t able to stay with her last night. 

Paris might have been assured that Ladybug was still in fighting condition, but Marinette wasn’t, and he had left her before he’d been able to properly comfort her.

He opened his mouth to continue, but Alya cut him off, “Speaking of yesterday… Marinette, when did you call for your Lucky Charm?”

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it would have taken you about five minutes to get to us from where you were hiding, and another five to get back to the bakery. You should have detransformed earlier than you did.”

In all that had happened, he hadn’t even considered… Marinette must have been transformed for over fifteen minutes after calling on her power.

“Tikki?” Marinette turned back to her kwami, who was cupped in her hands, eating yet another croissant (he wondered if Tikki was as much of a menace with sweet treats as Plagg was with camembert, given that she’d single handedly consumed around fifty croissants and pain au chocolats in the past thirty minutes).

“As you mature, the time limit on your powers becomes more flexible. It’s why Bunnyx and Hawkmoth and Mayura can use their power over and over. You’re not quite old enough to not have a limit, but it will get longer the older you get.”

Marinette scoffed, a sour expression twisting her features, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm as she spoke, “So what, going through a traumatic event is what makes me more mature?”

He understood her frustration: after his mother had… After she’d disappeared, people had always told him he was ‘mature’ and ‘grown-up’, when he was really just depressed and tired and too broken to have the luxury of running around and doing silly, childish things like the other kids his age. It wasn’t maturity, he was just… traumatised .

Tikki didn’t seem deterred by Marinette’s tone, simply flying up to meet Marinette at eye level as she reassured her, “Nope! You accepting your friends' help and trusting yourself again is. You were opening yourself up again before Volpina’s attack, and now you’ve made even more progress!”

He watched her eyes dart towards Chloé and Nino, embarrassment painting her cheeks in a soft pink flush at the realisation that people she wasn’t so close to were seeing her so vulnerable.

He let out an overly dramatic sigh, flopping across her lap to distract her from whatever was racing through her mind, “When am I gonna grow up enough to use my power over and over?”

He didn’t particularly care about getting the same power upgrade, but it took her attention off of why her powers were growing, and that was all that really mattered.

A teasing grin pulled at her lips as she tapped his nose with her index finger, “Probably never, Chaton.”

“Rude.”

The sky was dark, the sound of the streets below distant and drowned out by the muffled sounds of activity within the hotel.

Chat’s claws ran through her hair rhythmically, gently plaiting and playing with the strands. It was soothing, a motion so familiar that if she closed her eyes she could almost pretend they were sitting atop a rooftop in the middle of the night, tired after a long night of patrol, safe in each other’s company.

She tried not to focus on the way her hair was probably days beyond greasy at this point: dry shampoo could only do so much, and in all that had happened, it was almost impossible to remember to do basic things like eat and bathe and get dressed. It was only when her parents would gently remind her to come for dinner, or brush her teeth, that she was able to break out of whatever adrenaline driven anxious spiral she was running down in that moment.

She’d always had poor executive function, but over the last six days it had worsened to the point she could barely remember to do anything other than panic.

God, she was a mess.

Not that Chat seemed to care, pulling her hair carefully into what she was almost certain would be some intricately woven plait once he was done. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but he was unnaturally talented at hairstyling after spending hours and hours of patrols over the last sixteen months doing her hair. His skills now were a far cry from the first plait he’d ever done on her, which she’d had to spend three hours detangling later that night.

She leant into his touch, ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the thought of being closer to him. 

She didn’t couldn’t love him. Not yet.

“I’m sorry we got separated again yesterday.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but she startled nonetheless. She didn’t want to think about yesterday. She wanted to sweep everything under the rug and move on. She really didn’t want to acknowledge how much she’d hated being separated from him again.

“It’s… I understand why. Alya explained her plan to me but… I don’t like being left out of the loop.” She didn’t say that being apart from him felt like tearing a piece of herself away.

“I don’t like it either. I hate being apart from you. I get so worried that something’s happened.”

“Me too.”

His fingers continued running through her hair as a moment of silence stretched out between them. 

He didn’t like it either. She knew that, ever since Syren when he’d almost given up… She hated keeping secrets from him as much as he hated being lied to, but she couldn’t stop. She knew things that could put the entire universe at stake, she knew things that could end the world. She didn’t want to lie to Chat or her parents or her friends, but she didn’t have a choice.

Even after Hawkmoth was defeated, she’d have to take some things to the grave. For as long as she lived, she would have to lie to the people she loved.

“I’m really sorry, Chat, for all the secrets I kept from you, and for all the times I had to leave you behind.”

“I don’t blame you, I know Fu was strict about secrets.”

“Still…”

Her word hung in the air for a moment as Chat tied off the end of her plait, shifting on the bed to face her, a sweet smile pulled at his mouth, and a memory called to her, unbidden, of his lips pressed against hers as she freed him from Dark Cupid’s influence.

Why was she thinking about kissing Chat Noir? And now, of all times? She forced the memory into a box in the back of her mind, alongside the Oblivio Bullshit™ and that time he’d set her up a candle-lit rooftop date and confessed his love: all stupid, redundant memories that meant absolutely nothing.

Chat placed his hand on her shoulder, oblivious to the turmoil in her mind as he spoke up,  “From now on, let’s agree to not leave each other in the dark. We’re a team, so let’s trust each other, okay? No more secrets?”

No more secrets…

She couldn’t- She couldn’t tell him. There were so many things she had to keep to herself, there were so many things he couldn’t know, there were so many things she wasn’t ready to tell him. “I can’t… Your identity-”

“Okay, no secrets, sans my identity?”

“What if there are some things I can’t tell you yet?”

You’ve been akumatised; you destroyed the world; I love you.

He hesitated, breaking away from her gaze as he spoke, "I just don’t want to be lied to. If there’s something you can’t tell me, I won’t force you, but don’t lie to me about it, okay?”

His eyes locked on hers again, and there was something in them, a feeling she couldn’t quite place but knew far too well, something tender and kind and pleading and safe and trusting in ways she didn’t deserve.

But he had given her an out, a way to keep the secrets she couldn’t share locked deep in the back of her mind, a way for him to trust her wholeheartedly, and there was no universe that she would push him away again.

“Okay.” She nodded, “Okay, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

There were a million things she wanted to say, a thousand secrets burning her lips, too heavy to carry alone anymore.

“Chat-” 

White, blue, the Moon broken in half.

She shook her head, banishing the memory and denying the question in Chat’s eyes, “just… Thank you too.”

Chapter Text

For a moment, all Ladybug could see was light: flickering, white light that burnt her eyes, leaving inky spots in its wake.

She wanted to run away from the cameras, from the crowds of people watching her as she hovered at the edge of the makeshift stage the Mayor had set up for them. Her skin felt tight, her muscles tensed, mind too attuned to everything around her that it made her feel sick.

She’d always hated speaking to the press.

The street was quiet, people speaking in hushed whispers as they waited for her and Chat to move to the podium and begin. She could hear her name, rippling through the crowd like a game of téléphone sans fil, whispered from ear to ear, distorted by rumours and gossip she didn’t want to hear.

The bitter taste of bile flooded her mouth, the urge to run, to scream, surging with every whisper of her name: her real name, because the whole world knew who she was. 

Chat squeezed her hand in his, “You ready?”

She shrugged, desperately hoping that the action would shake away the sense of fear and dread in her stomach, “As I’ll ever be.”

She felt like she was going to throw up.

Chat led her up to the podium, and she focused her attention on scanning the crowd for Alya and Chloé. They were near the back of the crowd, whispering something to each other and for a moment Marinette forgot her discomfort in favour of taking in the utterly bizarre sight of Alya and Chloé talking amicably.

Reality grabbed her and pulled her back into her nausea with the piercing screech of the microphone.

She could hear Chat’s voice speaking to the crowd, but his words never met her ears, leaving her with nothing but a vague awareness that he was talking and gesturing towards her as the world spun and twisted around her.

He met her eyes again, a question in them that she ignored, stepping up to the microphone and filling the space he had left.

The world lurched again as she looked into the sea of people, all staring up at her with expressions far too intense and far too scrutinising, her mind twisting their faces until they looked uncanny and wrong and-

Breathe. She needed to breathe.

She focused her gaze on Alya, who gave her a thumbs up.

Breathe.

Chat’s hand squeezed hers again, grounding her.

Breathe.

She leant slightly closer to the mic, “Good morning…”  The words came out quick and breathless, and she swallowed back the cry that threatened to spill from her lips at the awkwardness of it all. She could do this. She was Ladybug. 

“Good morning.” She repeated, grateful that her voice had come out far more level this time, “Thank you all for coming today. After- After my identity was forcibly revealed to Paris on Sunday, and the akuma attack yesterday, we wanted to formally address what had happened and clarify any questions you have.”

She prayed that no one picked up on the way her voice shook, or the slightly slurred and stuttering pattern to her speech that she’d never really paid any mind to before, but now every fumbled syllable and skipped sound echoed around her, ringing through the air.

She really hated public speaking.

Thankfully Chat had always been inhumanly good at it, perfectly articulating his words and speaking with a natural charisma she’d never quite been able to master. “We want to assure the people of Paris that we are still here, still fighting against Hawkmoth, and that you can still trust us to protect you all.”

She gripped Chat’s hand so tightly that she probably would have turned his fingers black had he not been transformed, and was grateful at least that he wouldn’t be able to feel just how clammy her own palms were through her Ladybug suit.

She just had to finish the script they’d rehearsed, and then Chat would open the floor up to questions, and then it would be over. Just follow the script. 

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m fifteen-years-old,” She hadn’t realised her gaze had been fixed on the podium for the last few minutes, and forced herself to look back into the crowd. The last thing she wanted was people thinking she was just some scared kid- which, granted, she was, but that wasn’t the image they wanted Paris to see.

She took another breath, hesitating before she continued, “-and I am Ladybug.” 

Marinette could count on one hand the number of times she’d admitted that truth out loud over the past week, but it had always been in familiar company, with her friends and family… never in front of hundreds of people, never so publicly.

She was never meant to share that secret, and now she was shouting it to the world.

The thought made her stomach churn again.

“Right now, I know people are scared, but I promise you that me and Chat Noir will do everything in our power to protect you.” It was a shorter version of what she’d said in her statement with Alya on Thursday, and yet the crowd reacted as if they’d heard something completely unexpected, whispers rippling through the crowd once more as she let Chat Noir take the mic.

Just breathe.

Chat was talking again, though she didn’t bother paying attention to what he was saying: she’d heard it a hundred times already when they’d been going through it yesterday and this morning, repeating the same vague sentiments about being there for Paris and keeping her safe until all she could focus on was the way his voice sounded so… so-

The sound of yet another microphone letting out some unholy, demonic screech broke her out of her thoughts as some reporter had the bright idea to hit it for some reason. Obviously the microphone was on, they didn’t need to test it and blow everyone’s eardrums.

That wasn’t fair, she shouldn’t be getting annoyed at some random person for an honest mistake - but her entire body was already pounding with adrenaline, and every sudden sound felt like a knife to the heart.

She looked in the vague direction of the reporter, only focused enough that any photographic record would make it seem like she was completely calm and collected and paying attention to every individual Parisian like Ladybug was supposed to do, even if inside she was shaking with the effort to keep herself from running away.

“Why did you initially choose to address your identity being revealed through the Ladyblog?”

Chat met her eyes, and she shook her head at the silent question he asked. She could answer this question, it was simple enough. “Alya Césaire is my friend, I trust her to respect my boundaries and not misconstrue anything I share.”

Was it a slightly bitter jab at the majority of the reporters in attendance? Maybe, but she honestly couldn’t bring herself to care. So many people here would twist her story into something else, focusing on the romance between her and Chat (that didn’t exist yet), or mongering fear by painting her as an immature child.

Alya, while she had made mistakes and had taken some time to learn what boundaries were, was honest and just, and would never shape her words to form her own narrative. That she was Marinette’s friend was just an added bonus to her credits.

She let out the breath she’d been holding as the reporter thanked her and passed the microphone back to whoever was in charge of that - she honestly hadn’t paid any attention to Chat when he’d explained the technicalities of an event like this, ignoring his words in favour of panicking about all the ways this could go horribly wrong.

Realistically, she knew this probably wouldn’t end in the absolute destruction of everyone and everything she loved, but when the Miraculous were involved, the end of the world was always a very real possibility. 

She prayed no one caught the way she let out a sigh of relief as the microphone was passed to the next audience member without the awful shriek that had preceded the previous question. “What are your thoughts about the current opinion that you are too young to save the city?”

She let Chat step forward, reciting the answer they’d planned out last night. Apparently her age was all anyone was talking about, either calling her too young or complimenting her maturity - either way it felt insulting after everything she’d done for the city, to have people doubt her like that. Even if she’d failed, even if she felt like she was fighting a losing battle after her identity had been revealed, she’d hoped the people of Paris might still have some faith in her, even if they shouldn’t.

“In an ideal world Ladybug and Chat Noir would be adults,” they should be. It should be grown-ups fighting this war, not her and Chat, stumbling over themselves without anyone to guide them. She was only fifteen - as her maman repeated like a mantra - and she wished, selfishly, that it had been one of the adults standing at the roadside that day who had saved Fu, someone who knew how to deal with all this shit without falling apart.

“-but we’re not. Marinette and I are fifteen, but we understand the responsibilities and duty we have to Paris and will do whatever we need to to defeat Hawkmoth, regardless of our age.”

Quiet murmurs rippled through the crowd as the microphone was passed along, mixed expressions of doubt and worry, and some that she couldn’t quite identify, but they seemed almost proud - though perhaps she was only projecting what she secretly wanted to see. Maybe her subconscious need for Paris’ approval was twisting their countenance into something she wanted.

She glanced at Chat, who smiled faintly as the next person took hold of the mic, then back at Alya, who was grinning, holding her thumbs up.

Maybe she wasn’t imagining it. Maybe people really did think she could do this.

She felt her lips pull into a smile, something warm blossoming somewhere deep in her heart, something hopeful, something confident. It was only a small spark, but it was there, some renewed sense of determination at the idea that at least some of the people of Paris still believed in her.

“Do you plan on resigning as Ladybug now that the world knows who you are?”

Chat’s eyes burnt with something pleading and desperate when she met them, and she spoke more to him than the crowd, “I will never give up on being Ladybug. Me and Chat Noir are a team, and we will defeat Hawkmoth together.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand as he whispered “always”, the word quiet and lost to the cold January breeze, but the memory of every other time they’d said it echoed together in her mind, an unbreakable promise once more.

“Do you know Chat Noir’s identity?”

“No.” She shook her head as she turned back to the audience, the word having slipped from her lips without a moment of hesitation. “-and we won’t be sharing his or any of the other heroes’ identities.”

She desperately wanted to know who he was, but she couldn’t, she knew that, and so there was no point in daydreaming about the boy behind the mask, not yet, at least.

She saw Chat nod in her peripheral vision, “Marinette’s identity being revealed has put her and her family in a lot of danger. There is no way we would willingly put anyone else in that situation.” 

The next person to take the microphone was a reporter she was vaguely familiar with, one of Nadja’s co-workers, though she couldn’t remember her name. “How do you feel about the fact that the Police Préfecture will not be giving you any kind of official help with your fight against Hawkmoth?”

“The police force is ensuring the safety of my family and I am grateful for that.” It was a practised answer, one she had expected to give after Alya had told her that there was a lot of discourse currently about the way the government and the police were dealing with her identity reveal. Honestly, she was just glad they had left her alone after the Commissioners first visit to the bakery: there was no doubt in her mind that they would probably try and abuse her powers if given the chance, if not make her resign them completely, and there was no way she would let them do that. 

There was a quiet murmur in the crowd as the microphone was passed around, and she took the moment to close her eyes, forcing all of the air out of her lungs as she exhaled.

So far, everything had gone to plan. So far, everything was fine.

She took another deep breath before opening her eyes, scanning the crowd quickly for the next reporter.

Being who she was, she recognised most reporters in Paris - if not by name, then by their face - but the man who held the microphone now was completely unfamiliar to her, older than her, but still younger than most of the people in the crowd, a dark hoodie pulled over his head, hiding his face from all the cameras directed towards him.

Perhaps she should have written him off as a reporter from another city, or just someone new to the scene, but there was something about the way he looked up at her with something intense and angry in his eyes that set her on edge. His anger stood out amongst the sea of faces etched with approval and concern and curiosity.

She felt her feet shuffle back, unconsciously moving away from the man as he began to speak. “Why don’t you hand over your Miraculous to Hawkmoth? Stop playing superheroes and end this shit.” 

Anger was not an emotion she was well acquainted with, but at the man’s words, her blood burnt, tension catching every muscle in her body, pulling her tight as she felt something in her snap.

Her body moved forward out of her control, and she could feel herself shaking as she glared at the man. “I’m sorry? There is no universe in which we would give our Miraculous to Hawkmoth. No matter what his reasoning is, he’s terrorised Paris a million times over-” her arms folded across her chest “-I’d trust a toddler with my earrings before I would even consider letting Hawkmoth near them. Like: ‘sure, let me just give Hawkmoth my Miraculous and let him destroy the world. That sounds like a great idea!’” 

She hadn’t realised how loud her voice had risen until Chat’s hand landed on her shoulder, startling her out of her rage.

She sunk into the touch, her crossed arms becoming a shield as she hugged herself.

“I don’t want to be a superhero.” Her hushed voice echoed around the park, speakers screaming her selfish admission back at her, guilt and regret and fear sinking to her stomach, weighing her down, “I’m scared and I’m tired and I’m only fifteen, but I keep fighting because I care about this city and the people in it. I won’t give up my Miraculous to the person who has ended the world and killed every person in this city more times than I can count; I will keep on fighting, not because I think it’s ‘cool’ to be a superhero, but because I have no other choice if I want to keep my city and my friends and my family safe! So no, I will not be giving Hawkmoth my-”

A sharp scream cut through the crowd, a sudden opening forming as people rushed away from a figure dripping with purple and black.

“Fuck.” A hundred eyes turned on her as she hissed out the curse, and it was only then that she remembered the microphone in front of her. She winced, “Sorry. Please follow police to the nearest shelter, remain calm. We’ll handle this.”

She tried not to look at the faces of the civilians around her, tried to keep a lid on the boiling anger and fear and desperation that amplified her racing heart, burning her up from the inside, tried to cling onto the hope and determination that still burned somewhere inside her.

A heavy pink fog began to dissipate through the park, and a dark silhouette floated up above the screaming crowd of civilians.

Her hand instinctively found her yo-yo, the string taut between her fingers as she spun it, bending the laws of physics to her will to create a shield from the toy.

Chat shifted beside her, his baton raised in a defensive position as the figure in the smoke drifted closer.

Her features were far too round, cartoonishly soft in a way that made Marinette’s hairs stand on end and her stomach twist into knots. There was just something about her face that was impossible to comprehend, as though it was shifting and morphing so subtly she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was changing, and all Marinette could focus on was the far too wide smile that stretched across her liquid face.

She’d faced akumas straight out of horror movies before, but there was something about this one that seemed too familiar for her to shake the feeling of discomfort from her skin. 

“Marinette!” Her voice didn’t seem to come from her, resonating throughout the Champs de Mars in a way that made Marinette feel like she was dreaming, or dissociating, or both, “I just want people to understand! You don’t deserve this!”

Rose. That was Rose.

Marinette’s heart clenched, her friend had been akumatised because of her, because Hawkmoth knew it would hurt her. She had failed, and now Rose was paying the price.

She hadn’t even noticed her in the crowd earlier.

“M’lady?”

“She’s my friend: Rose. I- I don’t want to hurt her.” His eyes flashed with some kind of recognition before he nodded, and not for the first time she wondered if he knew her in his civilian life, to be so familiar with her and her friends… 

It wasn’t the time to question it, not when Rose was-

Her body moved on instinct, ducking out of the way as a crackling beam of pink exploded right where she’d just been standing. She rolled across the grass, only slightly grateful that the early season had left the mud frozen solid and easier to manoeuvre through than the marshy sludge it tended to become in wetter months, although were it not for the Miraculous cure, her body would probably be painted in blues and purples later from the impact.

She locked eyes with Chat, who had thankfully dodged the beam. She didn’t need words to read the subtle flicker of his eyes and the twitch of his hands and the subconscious movement of his body as he suggested a plan. She shook her head, tilting her head barely a millimetre in the other direction, a silent word she knew he’d heard as he extended his baton and disappeared into the sky.

Her yo-yo was still clasped in her hand, and she threw it out towards the top of the Eiffel Tower, willing the magic to weave its way around the metal beams as she launched herself upwards, away from Rose.

People were screaming and shouting in the park below, but their voices were muffled by the wind, carried away by the winter breeze as she landed on the highest observation deck of the monument, Chat already leant against the railing.

She took a step towards him, ignoring the way his hand reached for her, his lips parted as though he was going to say something. She knew him well enough to know what his inquiry would be, and she couldn’t think about how she was feeling, not until they saved Rose.

“I didn’t get a good look at what the object could have been.” She scanned the ground below, eyes locked on Rose’s akumatised form, searching for any anomaly that could be their target.

“Neither-” Rose’s dark silhouette began to float up in a horrible, unnatural way, ascending through the air towards them. “We should go.”

Alya and Chloé were still on the ground with Rose, still in far too much danger… but she had to trust them, she had to trust that they could protect themselves.

Her lips tasted like metal as she chewed on them, contemplating.

She had to trust them.

Her arm wrapped around Chat’s waist, her yo-yo zipping through the air, dragging them with it in defiance of all the laws of physics and nature.

She didn’t look back, she couldn’t afford to doubt her decision. She had to trust Alya.

Alya fought against the pull of people around her, her hand firmly gripped around Chloé’s wrist as she struggled against the chaos of the crowd, people pushing past her, uncaring about the people around as they hurried to safety.

She saw the police desperately trying to herd people out of the park, their voices nothing but a silent whisper between the panicked cries of the fleeing civilians.

A low, aching pain erupted across her back as she was shoved to the floor, dragging Chloé down with her. People continued to run over them, either too caught up in their own fear to notice them, or too concerned with their own preservation to care. 

Akuma attacks were a regular occurrence, but she hadn’t seen people so panicked since the early days of the war, when the fear of the unknown far overcame the slow-building trust in the Parisian heroes. This chaos was a far cry from the eager crowds that had watched their fight against Hawkmoth himself a week ago, when people had trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir so implicitly that there was no doubt in their minds that they would be safe in the end.

Not that people didn’t trust Marinette anymore, but the shift in the status-quo had sent the city reeling; had planted a seed of doubt in their minds; had made them doubt the inevitability of Hawkmoth’s defeat.

Fear was a contagious thing: only a few minutes ago she’d been sitting among a crowd of people that had looked up to Marinette, that had started to rekindle their faith in her, but at the sudden scream, their doubts had ignited once again, too afraid to honestly put their faith in a fifteen-year-old.

She hated how fickle the world was, how easily they were swayed to fear. Marinette had never failed them, even when she’d fallen, Alya had stepped up and her and Chat had saved the city in her absence.

“Transform and get us out of here.” She hissed into Chloé’s ear, disregarding the other girl’s scowl as she told her what to do.

The shimmering gold of Chloé’s transformation broke the crowd, people finally taking notice of them and allowing them enough room to stagger back to their feet. 

Her feet were off the ground before she even had the chance to process Chloé’s arms around her, hoisting her over her shoulder and launching herself into the air with her spinning wheel without a moment of hesitation.

Some part of her acknowledged how out of character it was for Chloé to protect someone so instinctually, without a moment of hesitation, but the rest of her was far too terrified of how quickly the ground was approaching to pay it any mind.

She was vaguely aware of how she screamed for Chloé to watch out between the pressure of the wind against her face and the way her clothes rippled against her skin as she fell through the air in Chloé’s arms.

She’d been carried by superheroes before, but she had never once doubted Ladybug or Chat’s ability to get her back down to the ground in one piece. Chloé, on the other hand, did not have the best track record for keeping civilians safe.

She decided her fears weren’t exactly unfounded when Chloé landed on the road, just outside of the panicked crowd, and the impact of their landing sent her rolling across the floor, crushing Alya against the concrete in the process.

“Well done, Chloé.” Her entire body stung with the impact, her skin undoubtedly bruised and grazed, and her favourite flannel shirt torn, if the cold feeling of the road against the skin on her back was anything to go by.

Chloé, who had landed on top of her, pushed herself up, relieving some of the pain from Alya’s chest, and rolled her eyes. “We’re both alive, aren’t we?”

“Barely.” She shoved Chloé off of her, ignoring her muffled protest as she hit the ground beside Alya. “I need to trans-”

“Chloé!” The akumatised person descended over them, a malicious smile on her face as she hovered closer and closer, her inhuman face shifting into something reminiscent of Chloé’s. “Where's Marinette?”

Chloé groaned, flicking a stray strand of hair out of her face, “How would I know, you freak? Who are you anyway?”

The akuma’s gaze stayed fixed on Chloé, and Alya began to shuffle away as quietly as she could, careful not to draw the akuma’s attention. She needed to transform and call Nino, and Chloé was nothing if not a good distraction.

The akuma didn’t say anything, only drifting closer as she held a hand out to Chloé.

“Ew- Get away from me!” Chloé’s hands gripped far too tightly into her shoulders, agitating her already sore back, and Alya made a mental note to add this to the list of reasons why she hated Chloé Bourgeois as she was pulled in front of her like a shield.

“Why do you always treat people so badly, Chloé?” The akuma came closer, her hand glittering with pink sparkles, a smile twisting her liquid face, “Why is it so hard for you to sympathise ?”

A bolt of pink energy exploded into a heavy fog as it hit one of Chloé’s gloved hands, the akuma disappearing from sight, the world slipping away until it was just her and Chloé, alone in the heavy pink mist.

Instinct carried her body to the cobbled street, her grip on Chat’s waist loosening as they landed. They were only a street away from the Tower, just far enough that they were out of Rose’s sight, but close enough that she could see the crowds fleeing, their screams carrying through the blanket of fog that covered the Champs de Mars.

“If Rose was there, the others probably were as well.” She thought aloud, scanning the street for a spot to detransform so that she could phone Juleka or Mylene, until she was met with her own face printed across the front page of several newspapers. Right.

She dropped her transformation, trying to ignore how weird it felt to do that with Chat watching, the uncomfortable awareness that anyone could see her made worse by the fact that it didn’t matter anyway. Everyone already knew who she was.

She turned her back on Chat, pulling her phone and a macaron out of her purse, passing the biscuit to Tikki as she scrolled through her contacts, her finger hesitating over the call button when she found Juleka’s number.

The last time she’d seen her friends was a week ago, when she’d run off at lunch to fight an akuma, lying to them all to protect her secret. Sure, their video had been kind, but what if they secretly resented her for lying so many times? What if they’d seen her get pissed at that man and decided they hated her? What if they were mad that she’d let Rose get akumatised? What if-

Her finger pressed against the glass of her phone screen, the dial tone breaking the silence of the street they’d hidden in. She had to save Paris, save Rose . Her own feelings couldn’t matter now, not until she’d freed Rose.

“Marinette!” The muffled shouts of people in the background of the call were enough to tell her it was on speaker, which explained why it was Kim who answered, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion: Kim and Juleka only ever really hung out when the whole class was together, which meant she’d somehow missed them all in the crowd earlier.

“Kim? Were you at the Tower when Rose-”

“The akuma’s in a card she made for you,” Max’ voice cut her off, “she put it in her pocket when she was transformed.”

“Thanks. Any idea what her power is?”

It was Mylene who spoke up next, the screams of people in the background distorting her words, “She hit Chloé and Alya, they’ve just been staring at each other and crying, we tried to break them out of it but…”

Chloé and Alya . Fuck. Nino wouldn’t be able to get from the hotel quickly enough, to protect them, and she didn’t exactly want him leaving her parents unprotected…

“Look, I need you guys to stay safe, but you can’t let Rose take Chloé’s miraculous-” or Alya’s , though hopefully Hawkmoth hadn’t put those pieces together yet “-I’ll come up with a plan, just… Please, stay safe.”

She cut off her friend’s calls of encouragement, squeezing her eyes shut in a futile attempt to hold back tears. Everything was just- Just too much. A million feelings buzzed under the surface of her skin, squeezing her heart and suffocating her lungs and weighing down on her stomach and making her whole body ache with the effort of holding herself together.

Her breath shook as she turned back to face Chat, grateful that her mask covered the wetness of her cheeks as she called on Tikki to transform.

His face was painted with concern, but she ignored it. She needed to save Rose, she could worry about herself later.

“Lucky Charm.”

The beep of the call ending was barely audible over the cries of the crowds, but they all shared a look as Juleka’s phone went dark in her hands.

Mylene ran her fingers across one of the badges on her jumper, trying to ground herself with the smooth plastic texture as she looked back at Alya and Chloé. She’d always been terrified of akumas, but knowing that Ladybug and Chat Noir were there to save the day normally soothed her fears; knowing it was Marinette fighting for them though…

She didn’t doubt Marinette’s abilities - she was by far the most cunning, just and stubborn person Mylene knew, and Ladybug had a perfect record when it came to akumas - but knowing it was Marinette, the girl who before this year had been just as shy and quiet as Mylene, who was practically buzzing with anxiety at all hours of the day, who was a month younger than Mylene…

Ladybug had always been a source of comfort because she was invincible, a superhero, but Marinette was just a teenager like her, and it was impossible to feel anything other than heartbroken for her friend, knowing the responsibility she was carrying and the way it had left her anxious and paranoid and constantly on the brink of falling apart. She’d always assumed that Marinette was like that for the same reasons Mylene was: that she was scared of akumas and had some kind of anxiety disorder, but knowing the depth of Marinette’s troubles…

If Marinette needed them to protect Chloé and Alya, then she’d face her own fear to do it. There was no way that she or any of their class were going to let Marinette carry any more than she already had. They were in this together now.

She darted left, pressing herself against the cold and gritty bricks that caged her, silently praying for the shadows to accept her as their own and let her vanish into the darkness.

“Marinette!” Rose’ voice echoed around, just as dissonant as it had been before, and she had no way of telling how safe she was, pressed against the grimy walls of the alley she’d hidden in, “Why don’t you let me share your burden with the city, then maybe they’ll think twice before judging you!”

Rose’ face shifted in that awfully uncanny way once again, skin moving like water until it settled into something new and horrifyingly familiar, an expression of pure terror and desperation, framed by strands of a black so dark it was blue.

The face was distorted and liquid, but it was undoubtedly her own image stretched across the akuma’s shifting skin.

She averted her eyes, focusing her gaze on anything that wasn’t her own, twisted face, frantically searching for an escape.

“My burden? Rose, I’m fine, really, you don’t have to do this!” She knew it wouldn’t work, that bargaining with an akuma rarely earned her more than a few extra minutes to enact her plan, but that was all she needed, to stall until Chat arrived.

“I’m not Rose , I’m The Sympathiser. You don’t understand! People have been so mean to you, but if you let me help, I can show them all what it’s like to be in your shoes.” Rose’s hand glowed with the same pink energy she’d shot at them earlier, and she braced herself to duck, catching a flash of emerald green on the edge of the rooftop above.

The energy seemed to glow brighter, time slowing down as it ricocheted towards her, just as a blur of black and gold fell through the air, tackling Rose to the ground. The beam of light and glitter singed the ends of her pigtails as she ducked, rolling across the cobbles as Chat threw her Lucky Charm towards her.

She caught the spotted roll of tape, yanking it hard as it tore the paper card Rose had tucked into her pocket. Watching as all the bubbling purple sludge melted away from Rose, a black butterfly fluttering towards the grey sky. She caught it wordlessly, the zipping sound of her yo-yo cutting through the alley. 

“Ladybug?” She released the butterfly as she turned back to Rose, startling as her friend launched herself into her arms, snivelling into her shoulder. “Marinette, I'm so sorry! That man was so horrible and I couldn’t stand to see you so upset! I didn’t mean to get akumatised, I’m so sorry!”

She reciprocated the hug, clinging onto Rose tightly, “It’s okay, Rose, it’s not your fault.”

Chloé never had gotten used to the sensation of hundreds of ladybirds flying past her as they repaired the damage of an akuma, even after two years of Hawkmoth’s attacks, the feeling of the Miraculous Cure washing over her and breaking her from whatever trance she’d been in was just as foreign and absurd as it had been the first time.

She refused to meet Alya’s gaze, crossing her arms across her chest and trying to ignore the wetness of her cheeks as if feigning indifference would change the fact her most private memories had just been shared with Alya-fucking-Césaire.

Stupid fucking akumas with their stupid ridiculous powers. If only that pissy guy had been akumatised instead, his power probably would have been some generic ability to blow things up or something, instead of Rose’s bullshit.

“Chloé…”

It was ridiculous! She didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. She was Chloé Bourgeois, Queen Bee, daughter of the Mayor. 

“Not a word, Césaire.”

She didn’t need the Fake Reporter or the Baker Girl or DJ Headache or any other nobody feeling sorry for her. She was… She was fine.

She lost her footing as Alya’s arms wrapped tightly around her body, her curly hair tickling her face as her cardigan began to dampen under Alya’s tears. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

She could feel the warmth rising to her cheeks, the sheer humiliation at being pitied like that…

(she wanted to melt into Alya’s arms, wanted to cry into her shoulder and apologise and thank her and cry some more)

She shoved Alya away with a little more force than was strictly necessary as the familiar zip of Ladybug’s yo-yo cut through the air. “Just… Forget it. It’s fine.”

The rest of Marinette’s ridiculous friends came running over, crying Rose’s name. Alya looked back at her, with an expression that was full of pity. She scowled. Nothing had been normal since Marinette had had her identity revealed to the world: Marinette was depressingly quiet and genuine when her boyfriend wasn’t in the room; Nino kept trying to be nice and the gesture was so strained she wanted to scream; and Alya had been normal until Rose had caught them with her stupid power and now Césaire was looking at her like she was a kicked puppy and-

Alya turned to join the growing crowd around Marinette.

(she wanted to follow her, she wanted to accept the cautious offer of friendship, she wanted to-)

She threw her spinning-top into the air, flying away from Marinette and Alya and all the kindness she so desperately wanted to cling to but knew she couldn’t.

Rose was practically pulled out of her arms as her friends swarmed them, wrapping both her and Rose in a group hug. 

It was impossible to distinguish anything through the tears and cross-talk, but she couldn’t help but cry with them as they sung her praises and fretted over her and Rose and repeated the words “we missed you” over and over like a mantra.

At some point they ended up in a pile on the ground, laughing and crying together. She didn’t understand how there had been a point in her life when she hadn’t cared so much about them all. After two years of living through akuma attacks and the constant threat of death together, the idea of not feeling so close to her classmates was such a foreign concept.

She let out a wet laugh, “I missed you guys so much.”

Rose squeezed her side tighter, “We missed you too, Marinette! But we’ll see you to-”

“When you defeat Hawkmoth! We’ll see you when you defeat Hawkmoth.” Rose nodded a little too eagerly to be convincing, but she wasn’t going to question it. Alya would make sure they were safe- Actually, maybe she should question it further, considering her friend didn’t have the best track record for keeping herself out of danger-

Chat cut her off before she could say anything, offering a hand to help her to her feet, “Which will be no time at all, right, M’lady?”

She smiled and nodded, before becoming painfully aware of the rapidly growing audience that was watching their reunion, cameras and microphones and hundreds of sets of eyes all trained on her and her friends.

A shiver ran down her spine at the sheer amount of people that were watching, hundreds of people who could be Hawkmoth, or working for him, or on his side like the man from earlier. Hundreds of people who now knew who she was friends with and how much she cared about them.

“You guys should go, it’s not safe.” Her class followed her gaze, growing immediately solemn to the current situation, “Chat, can you…?”

He nodded, beginning to herd her friends through the crowds, politely dismissing the many questions being shouted at them. Her friends made little protest, simply hugging her once more as they said goodbye before following Chat. Rose pressed the envelope that the akuma had possessed into her hands before she left, “Thank you, Marinette.”

She watched them leave, catching Alya’s eye as the press began to crowd her again, screaming questions in her direction. 

Time began to slip into something abstract and undefined, her pulse pounding slowly in her ear, the world blurred and too much to process. She didn’t know what was being asked of her, let alone what she needed to say, and the constant flashes of the cameras kept bleaching the world white.

She could hardly tell the questions apart, but the absurdity of some made her brain hurt: how could someone ask about her star-sign when their world was at risk? Why were people so obsessed with gossip when there had just been another attack? Why didn’t anyone trust her? Why were they trusting her so much? Why wouldn’t they just leave her alone?

Chat landed beside her, the soft jingle of his bell grounding her. His calm voice reverberated around her as he tried to deter the reporters, asking them to excuse them, to let them leave, to-

“Ladybug!”

A voice cut through the crowd, drawing Marinette’s attention, as a young girl ran up to her, slipping through the wall of reporters.

“Ladybug, can I tell you a question?” She looked about five, grinning up at Marinette with gaps between her teeth.

She needed to go, to get away before Hawkmoth decided to show up, before she broke down under the pressure of the people demanding answers of her, but she didn’t want to say no to a child, no matter what had happened to her, she wouldn’t let herself hurt this kid by running away.

“Sure!” She knelt down to the girl’s level, forcing a smile as she became painfully aware of the silence that fell over the crowds around her, all waiting to hear what she would say. “What’s your name?”

The girl squealed excitedly, “I’m Emma!” 

Emma … She used to dream of having a daughter called Emma. Those fantasies had always been an escape, a way of feeling normal in spite of her double life, but now they were just a reminder of a future she could never have, not after everything. Just stupid dreams she needed to leave behind.

But she wouldn’t project that onto this kid. “Hey Emma, I’m Marinette!”

“I thought you were Ladybug?” Emma’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly too young to fully understand the whole ‘secret identity’ thing. Not that it was much of a secret anymore…

“Ladybug’s my superhero name, but my real name is Marinette.” Marinette lowered her voice slightly, holding her hand to her mouth as she told Emma her name. With how silent everyone else was, she doubted her words had gone undetected by the cameras, but she didn’t really want this kid to know how her identity had been revealed - easier to pretend to be sharing a secret than explain that she’d nearly lost to Hawkmoth. “But it’s super secret, okay?”

The girl’s eyes widened, her bright smile returning before she smushed her two index fingers to her lips. “I won't tell anyone. ” 

Marinette’s smile became a little more genuine, the earnest innocence of this little girl warming her heart. “Thanks Emma. Did you have a question?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically, “Is Chat Noir your boyfriend?”

Her cheeks burnt , and she mourned whatever semblance of respect the public might have still had for her as she turned an embarrassing shade of red at the implication. She was meant to be a mature, grown-up, responsible hero, not some blushing, stuttering schoolgirl!

She glanced up, meeting his eyes where he stood a few metres behind Emma, a cocky grin on his stupid face. She resisted the urge to scowl at him, if only because she didn’t want Emma to read it as aggression towards her.

“Chat- He’s urmm… He’s a very good friend! My best friend. But we’re not dating!”

The words felt… wrong, like a lie, but they weren’t dating, they were just… friends . She wondered when the word had started hurting so much. She broke away from his gaze, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes as she rejected him again.

A shrill beeping filled the air- she only had a few more moments before she detransformed. Although she supposed it didn’t matter much anymore… Still, she’d rather not have Tikki seen by the hundreds of reporters in the crowd.

She turned back to Emma, “I have to go now, but thank you for your question! Are your parents nearby?”

Emma pointed towards a man standing at the edge of the crowd, who sent Marinette an apologetic smile. She smiled back, standing up and guiding Emma towards her dad.

“Thank you Ladybug!” Emma hugged her legs, and Marinette lightly patted her head. There was an innocence to Emma that made her heart ache as she launched herself through the air, a kind of easy trust in the world that had become so foreign to Marinette in the last few years.

“You’re going to win, Ladybug! I know it!”

Chapter Text

Adrien had always hated press events, but none had ever left such a sour taste in his mouth as the one they’d held that morning, what with the man suggesting that they hand over their miraculous to Hawkmoth, and the interruption of their enemy in the middle of an already stressful conference.

Marinette had seemed a little more confident, at least, especially after the conversation with that little girl, but he still ached to comfort her, nausea swirling in his stomach every moment he was stuck in the mansion.

He pushed the peas around his plate, prodding at them with his fork as he waited for Nathalie to come and deliver her usual spiel about his father being too busy to eat with him. Once she did, he could ask to eat in his room, and take the opportunity to run straight back to Marinette’s side.

He wondered if it was healthy for him to feel so dependent on her company to feel okay, but pushed aside the thought with a sigh. He didn’t exactly have any reference for a healthy amount of dependence, and even if they were more attached to each other than they should have been, he wouldn’t change anything about it anyway.

The door opened without a sound - his father was far too much of a perfectionist to let creaky doors ruin their house - and he barely acknowledged the motion in the periphery of his vision, only shovelling a few peas onto the back of his fork to make it seem like he’d actually been eating. Nathalie would probably scold him for playing with his food otherwise.

“Adrien.” His body went rigid at his father’s cold voice. It had only been a few days since he’d last joined Adrien for dinner, and Adrien had assumed that his father would have retreated back into his office for another few months before speaking to him again.

There was no way he could escape now; the rules that let his father dance in and out of his life did not apply to him, and if his father was here for dinner, he couldn’t deny the offer. Besides, some part of him perked up at the prospect of his father being more present in his life.

He watched his father walk across the room. There was something about him that seemed… different: perhaps it was the way he stood, or the unreadable expression on his face, but something about his father’s presence made his gut twist uncomfortably.

The meals he’d shared with the Dupain-Chengs over the past week had been warm and friendly, filled with constant chatter and laughter, and even Marinette’s uncharacteristic quietness had done little to dampen the mood.

His dining room, by contrast, was silent save for the careful steps of his father and his own pulse thundering in his head. Not a word passed between them until his father was seated at the other end of the long table, the physical distance wasn’t far enough to truly capture the emotional space between them.

He bowed his head, anticipating the stilted conversation that would follow, and prayed that it wouldn’t end in another lecture about keeping his distance from Marinette.

He felt Plagg shift inside his shirt, and let out a small sigh of relief at the presence of his friend. Plagg hated being confined to his pocket, they were similar in that way, both craving freedom and space, but with his father leering down the table at him, he had to keep Plagg hidden.

Idly, he wondered how his father would react if he found out Adrien was Chat Noir. Marinette’s parents, while concerned, had been so supportive and considerate, and while Marinette was still keeping Tikki hidden from them, he had no doubt that they would embrace the kwami with open arms if they met her.

Would his father be so kind? Would he realise everything Adrien had done for the city and be proud? Would he finally take a more active role in his life, if he found out how much danger he was in? Would he-

“Stop playing with your food, Adrien.”

-no, he’d probably have to give up on Plagg and school if his father ever found out, and Chat Noir wasn’t exactly the kind of person his father would be proud of.

He was barely good enough without the mask.

He mumbled an apology and shovelled his forkful of peas into his mouth, hyper-aware of every minute movement that made up the action, straightening his back and raising his head to look up at his father as he ate, adjusting himself to be the picture of perfection. Like an Agreste should be .

“Your classmate was akumatised this morning, wasn’t she?” He nodded, although it was odd that his father knew that. Adrien hadn’t thought his father remembered Chloé was in his class, let alone be so familiar with them to know that Rose had been ‘The Sympathiser’. Nathalie had probably told him, although he’d been under the impression that both his father and Nathalie were too concerned with whatever upcoming project he had to care about Marinette and Hawkmoth.

Perhaps his father did care, perhaps he was showing it in his own way, by looking out for Marinette through the news…

Something about that conclusion felt wrong, but he couldn’t place why.

“I told you it was dangerous to be associated with Mlle.Dupain-Cheng. That’s two of her friends who have been targeted now.”

Two…? Right, Lila. Of course, people probably assumed that Lila and Marinette were friends after the interview she’d done back when she’d first joined the school. Thankfully, Lila had left the country after her mother had found out about her akumatisation on Thursday. She wasn’t the only one, outside of their class, half the school had left suddenly, with people desperate to move out of Paris. Adrien was both surprised and relieved he hadn’t joined them, it would be just like his father to move them to their estate in England in light of recent events.

“Lila isn’t Marinette’s friend,” he corrected, “and Rose was only akumatised because of that man in the crowd who upset Marinette.”

He knew that explanation would do little to ease his father’s… concerns? Worries? Both terms felt too emotional for Gabriel Agreste.

“Regardless, Hawkmoth is targeting people that Mlle.Dupain-Cheng is close to. It’s dangerous for you to be going to that school, Adrien.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, didn’t have any argument against the inevitable punishment his father would serve him for being associated with Marinette in any way.

He just flicked another pea across his plate, trying to brace himself to lose everyone he cared about.

His father sighed, resting his knife and fork on the edge of his plate as he levelled Adrien with an unreadable look. “On top of that, M.D'argencourt informed me that you didn’t show up to your fencing lesson today.” Fuck. “I thought I could trust you to keep yourself safe, but clearly I was wrong.”

He’d thought he and Kagami had been careful when he’d snuck away to the press conference that morning. He knew for a fact that she’d covered for him this morning: she’d promised, and Kagami never broke her promises. His father must have just been keeping a closer eye on him recently.

He took in a shaky breath, knowing what was coming before his father formed the words. He didn’t want to be stuck here again, he didn’t want to have to leave his friends, his freedom… “You won’t be returning to that school, Adrien. You will take all your lessons here, privately, under Nathalie’s watch.”

He had Plagg now, he tried to reassure himself, he wasn’t completely alone, he wasn’t completely caged in like he’d used to be.

No matter how much he tried to reason with his sinking heart, it did little to ease the growing tightness in his chest and the looming blanket of loneliness that hung over him, threatening to fall.

“Please…” There was nothing earnest in his plea, he knew better than to genuinely believe his father would change his mind. He’d never listened to Adrien before, why would he start now?

“Don’t be so dramatic, Adrien. It’s for your own good.” His father was right, he was overreacting. It wasn’t as if he’d never speak to his friends again, he could always phone them, or sneak out, like he was planning to do tonight for Marinette, and his room was any kid’s dream, he shouldn’t be ungrateful…

A single pea slipped off his plate as he shifted his knife, rolling across the tablecloth. It was only a slight mistake, a tiny disruption in his otherwise perfect etiquette, but it stood out against the pure white of the table.

He carefully placed his knife and fork together across his plate, glad that he’d only taken one bite of food as nausea swirled in his stomach. “May I be excused?”

His father nodded, and he heard him mutter something about his mother as he practically stumbled out of the room, head spinning.

He felt like he was going to be sick, and maybe pass out, and- oh God, he couldn’t breathe-

The walk to his bedroom was a blur, nothing really registering beyond the way his heart raced, and he wondered for a moment if he was dying.

He couldn’t be stuck here again, he couldn’t say goodbye to school and his friends and Marinette. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life locked up in the mansion, feeling like the air was being ripped from his lungs every time his father entered the room. He couldn’t- He couldn’t lose everything, everyone -

He pressed his hands to his mouth to stifle his shallow breaths, dropping to the floor the second he heard his bedroom door click shut. He couldn’t risk Nathalie finding him like this, couldn’t handle his father’s judgement, didn’t know how he’d hold himself together if he had to face either of them.

Every good thing in his life, everyone he loved… he was never going to see them again. Sneaking out as Chat Noir would be impossible with Nathalie shadowing his every move like she’d done before he’d had the escape of school, probably even more than before, if his father was so paranoid about him sneaking out.

How was he going to tell Marinette? Would she hate him? She should. If only he’d been more careful then his father would have never found out about him sneaking out and he could have stayed at her side- Unless he ran away, unless he went to live with her in Le Grand Paris…

His father would find him, and he’d lose everything. His room would only become more of a cage if he defied his father again…

“Kid? Adrien?” He flinched as something soft and fuzzy brushed against his cheek, “Adrien!”

Plagg . It was just Plagg. He tried to apologise for crying, for being so dramatic , but every word caught in his throat, and the most he was able to force out was a sob.

“Kid, I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?” He hadn’t even noticed he’d closed them until Plagg pointed it out, his head aching from the effort of keeping them squeezed so tightly shut, the tension his brows lingering even as he took in the golden light of sunset that filtered through the window.

“Okay, well done.” Plagg was floating in front of him, a blur of black through the tears that clouded his vision. Plagg’s voice was soft, softer than he was used to it being.

“Okay, can you breathe out for me, kid?” He tried to force the air from his lungs, but it was shaky, his breaths only growing shallower as he gasped for air. He felt stupid, gasping for air, failing to do something as simple as breathing over what? Being told to stop going to school? He should be happy about it. It was every kid’s dream after all.

“Right, umm, hold your breath?” Had he been feeling any more stable than he did right now, he would have questioned the instruction, but right now his mind was too frazzled, too busy trying to process his loss of freedom, to think about what Plagg was asking him, and he followed the kwami’s words with only a slight moment of hesitation.

He held his breath until his head was thick with fog and his body moved of its own accord, forcing his mouth open as he took in a desperate breath of air, his breathing a little more stable than it had been a moment ago.

Plagg urged him to repeat the action, over and over and over until his breathing had returned to something only a little more shaky and shallow than normal. His head still felt heavy and dizzy from the lack of oxygen, and he could still hear the desperate pounding of his blood, his body still screaming at him to run.

Embarrassment flushed his cheeks. He was overreacting, it wasn’t like he’d be locked up forever, just until he and Marinette defeated Hawkmoth.

Still, the thought of being caged in again, of having to say goodbye to all his friends… He didn’t know if he could do it. They were his entire life, the only people other than Plagg that he could let his mask down around, that let him breathe.

“I don’t want to be stuck here again, Plagg.” He could feel his voice dragging through his throat, only a whisper able to escape his lips, hoarse and tired and raw with emotion.

“You won’t be, I promise.” Plagg’s soft purrs filled the corner of his room as his kwami nestled in his hair, patting the crown of his head with gentle, comforting touches. There was some kind of righteous anger in his voice, though, a protectiveness that made Adrien ache for everything his father wasn’t.

It was the same aching nostalgia he felt around Tom and Sabine, a sense of mourning for something he’d never had.

Plagg remained a steady weight atop his head, the soothing vibrations of his purrs easing the last of his gasping breaths.

Once he felt stable enough to stand, he staggered to his feet, crossing the room so that he could curl up on his sofa instead. His body felt heavy and stiff, and it took more effort than it should have to keep his eyes open.

He wanted to go to Marinette. He really should go to see her, he’d promised to return once he’d finished his dinner, but the thought of leaving his room seemed impossible, an old but familiar fear of breaking his father’s rules taking over at the prospect of sneaking out.

Instead he just stared up at the ceiling, listening to the static sound of silence.

He could probably still leave after dinner. Nathalie rarely checked in on him then.

Marinette had Nino and Chloé and Alya to help her in the day.

She didn’t need him.

Nobody needed him.

They probably wouldn’t care that he was gone.

They probably wouldn’t notice if he disappeared.

No one-

He curled in on himself instinctually as a numb pain exploded across his stomach, the pain of something hitting him stinging slightly. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever experienced - he got flung across Paris on a near daily basis - but it was unexpected.

Instinct should probably have driven him to his feet, but he didn’t have the energy to do much beyond scan the room around him, scowling as his gaze landed on Plagg, and the phone he’d dropped into his lap.

“Call Marinette”

He rolled onto his side, letting the phone disappear somewhere beneath him as he stared at his reflection in the black glass of his television. 

He didn’t want to bother her. She was dealing with so much of her own stuff…

“She can’t know my identity-”

Plagg let out an exaggerated sigh, before flying up to his face, his tiny paws folded against his hips, “ Adrien is her friend as well, idiot.” Despite the scolding words, Plagg’s voice was soft, “I know you want to talk to her.”

“Her phone is broken, Plagg.” He protested weakly, knowing it wouldn’t do much to sway the kwami. He just… Just didn’t want to bother Marinette, didn’t want to be another burden for her to deal with.

Plagg ignored him, zipping out of sight to pull the phone out from between Adrien and the sofa. He attempted to swipe at the kwami, who just flew out of reach, a smug smile on his tiny face as Adrien scowled.

Plagg ducked out of the way of his hands each time he jumped up to try and retrieve his phone, his stomach sinking as the familiar sound of it dialling played quietly. 

He wanted to talk to her, every bit of his body was burning with the desire to be with her, to lie in her arms and cry.

But that was a privilege reserved for Chat Noir, her partner. Not some boy she had a celebrity crush on.

“Adrien?” It surprised him more than it should have when Sabine’s voice broke the ring tone. Obviously Plagg would have phoned Marinette’s parents, since that was his only real way of reaching her when he was detransformed, but he really didn’t want to worry them, especially since he was pretty sure Sabine knew his identity. If they thought he wasn’t strong enough to protect Marinette… 

“I’m guessing you want Marinette?” 

He nodded, before remembering that this was a phone call, and taking a shaky breath, praying that his voice didn’t sound as hoarse as it felt. “Yes please, Mme.Cheng.”

“Just wait one second, I’ll go and get her.”

Plagg passed him the phone, before nestling back in his hair. There were a few moments of silence, and Adrien debated ending the call and coming up with some lie about his phone dying… But that would probably worry Marinette, and she didn’t need any more on her plate than what she was already carrying.

No, he’d pretend he wanted to catch up with her over the last week, and apologise for not being by her side as Adrien. She didn’t need to worry about him.

The silence was broken by Marinette’s voice, bright and rushed and slightly breathless, and grounding in ways that let some of his tension subside. “Adrien! Hey! Are you okay?”

“I’m fi-” A sharp tug on his hair cut him off, and he swatted lightly at Plagg with his free hand. He began to brush off Marinette’s concerns- but maybe Plagg was right… Maybe Marinette wouldn’t mind talking to him? At some point, she’d find out he was Chat, right? And if she wasn’t close enough to Adrien when that happened, then where would that leave them? He sighed, dropping his carefully crafted mask of perfection. “No. Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her… but he’d already sealed his fate, already broken the damn, and now he didn’t know how much he could keep inside.

Besides, he’d never been very good at lying to Ladybug.

He hesitated before speaking up in a whisper he wasn’t confident she’d heard, “Would that be okay?”

“Always.” Marinette’s response was instantaneous, unwavering in her support.

“My father… I snuck away from fencing earlier to come and see you at the press conference, but my father found out, and between that and Rose and Lila being akumatised, he’s pulled me out of school.” He could feel tears burning the back of his eyes, his lungs threatening to combust and steal what little oxygen he’d been able to breathe in.

“Oh Adrien…” He wiped his eyes with the inside of his wrist, the wool of his jumper soft against the sensitive skin. He wasn’t going to cry again. “Do you want to come over?”

The suggestion threatened to break his resolve, the reminder that he was stuck, caged in, making his skin tighten, his room shrinking in around him. “I can’t really-”

“Right, obviously. That was a stupid-” Marinette paused suddenly, and for a moment his heart sank, worried that she’d ended the call, that she’d left him to face the walls of his bedroom alone. “I could come to you? Only if you want me to, that is! No pressure, obviously if you want to be alone-”

“Please.” He cut off her rambling, his voice tinged with a desperation that might have been embarrassing if it were anyone but Marinette. 

“I’m on my way.”

He pressed the red ‘end call’ button with fumbling fingers, tossing his phone across the room, too tired to care where it landed.

Marinette was coming. 

He wouldn’t be alone.

He still had Plagg.

He wasn’t- He wasn’t trapped again.

…

The sunset cast long shadows across his room, the panels of his windows framing the outside world through iron bars.

He wanted to cataclysm them.

“Plagg-”

“No way. Not until you’ve chilled out, kid.” He scowled at Plagg, fingers dancing over the metal of his ring, still tempted to finish off his transformation.

But Plagg deserved to be free, to live outside the miraculous.

He slumped back onto his sofa, chewing on his lip in an effort to channel the mix of emotions that squeezed at his heart. He couldn’t be this worked up in front of Marinette, he couldn’t make her think he was a liability, that he might get akumatised.

He couldn’t be another burden to her.

Marinette practically threw her maman’s phone back at her (she really needed to get a new SIM for hers), rushing out an explanation as she transformed, although she wasn’t sure how much her parents understood with just how quickly she was speaking.

She hadn’t seen Adrien in a week, the most she’d heard from him had been through the video the class had made, or through Alya and Nino passing along his well wishes.  

He needed her though, and she pushed aside the giddy mix of anxiety and attraction that stirred at the prospect of seeing him again, at him asking her for help. She typed out a quick message to Chat, in case he saw her tracker outside of the hotel and panicked, and scanned the street for any sign of passers by before she swung from the balcony.

The only living thing wandering around was a familiar looking black cat, a stray she figured lived around here, with how often she’d seen it lurking down alleys and padding across nearby rooftops. 

She ignored it, taking advantage of the otherwise empty street to take off across the rooftops of Paris. Thankfully, Adrien’s house was only a few estates from Le Grand Paris, and it was only her caution in avoiding the eyes of the people moving around on the streets below that kept her journey longer than thirty seconds. The last thing she wanted was to cause some kind of panic if she was spotted swinging around the city that would allow Hawkmoth to strike. She really didn’t need another akuma battle right now.

Although Hawkmoth had been oddly tactical in his attacks, far more sparse in his akumatisations over the past week than normal, and only targeting people she knew. She couldn’t quite figure out exactly what his strategy was, Nino hadn’t reported any disturbance when he’d been protecting her parents, and Hawkmoth had never once attacked the hotel, so clearly he hadn’t found her, but he also hadn’t shown up to either of the previous akumas, both of which had been surprisingly easy to fight…

It wasn’t quite normal, but it wasn’t the impulsive and violent response she’d been anticipating from her enemy, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wrap her head around why he was acting the way he was.

The Agreste Mansion loomed ahead, a large dent in the regular pattern of roofs and streets that stretched out before her. She didn’t hesitate, although something in the back of her mind questioned why Adrien had called her instead of Nino, and why she felt so obligated to help him in a way that seemed to transcend the fragile friendship they had.

It didn’t matter, he needed her company and support, not her being selfish. It was probably just her crush - it had been a week since she’d last seen Adrien, she was probably just giddy at seeing him again.

The explanation didn’t exactly ring true, but she lost her grasp of that particular train of thought as she landed on his roof.

She wrapped her yo-yo around the gutter, lowering herself carefully until she was just above Adrien’s window, before she got caught up in worrying whether he had expected her to come through the front door, and if he would find it weird if she just appeared in his window, and-

No, he’d been upset with his father. He probably didn’t want Gabriel to know she’d come.

She lowered herself until she was about halfway down the glass planes, preparing to knock until she noticed Adrien watching her.

She waved awkwardly as he pushed open one of the massive windows, before dropping into his room, letting her yo-yo recoil.

Adrien looked… upset. His eyes were puffy and red, skin blotchy and dotted with spots, and his general appearance was dishevelled and unkempt in a way that shattered the perfect illusion of him that she kept in her mind. He didn’t look bad, just tired, and sad, although she wasn’t sure she looked any better… It had taken layers of concealer for Chloé to be satisfied with her appearance on Thursday, and it was only her transformation that hid just how dark her under eyes were. 

Her eyes instinctively caught on every hint of purple in the room, searching for any sign of an akuma.

She found nothing.

She didn’t know what to say, and she really didn’t want to end up running her mouth and completely humiliating herself and pushing Adrien away, and so she broke the silence with a single word, “hey…”

Adrien ran his right hand up and down his forearm with enough pressure to leave a red imprint in its wake. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologise!” She cut him off before he had the chance to finish what he was saying, far too familiar with her own guilty rambles to miss where he was going. She took a step forward, gently taking his wrists in her hands to stop the anxious tick before he hurt himself. “You're my friend, Adrien. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

She didn’t break his gaze, too caught up in worrying about him to freak out about the fact that she was practically holding his hands as she stared into his eyes.

His brow furrowed, and the way his eyes flitted around reminded her of Chat Noir and- No. She shouldn’t be thinking about Chat while she was comforting Adrien.

“Thanks. I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.” She loosened her grip on his wrists, she didn’t know whether it had bothered him, but she knew he didn’t like being trapped, and she didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did, especially considering she was only here because his absolute dickhead of a father had decided to lock him in his home again.

If only her identity hadn’t been revealed, then she could have beaten up Gabriel Agreste without fear of consequence-

That wasn’t a very ‘Ladybug’ thought to have. She couldn’t let her anger and stubbornness get the best of her, not anymore.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He pulled away from her, walking deeper into his room. She took a step in his direction, before worrying that he might not want her to follow him, and instead stood awkwardly by the curtain.

“I’m just tired of my father deciding everything for me!” He dropped onto his sofa, curling in on himself, “I never feel like I'm in control of my own life, everyone else is always pulling the strings for me. I’ve never been happier than when I’m at school, with our class, Nino, you , but now my father’s taken that away from me again, and I’m sick of it!”

She’d never seen Adrien so upset and angry- he was normally so perfectly restrained, any negative emotion hidden behind a careful mask of neutrality, but now, alone in his room, she saw the real him, not a perfect, model act.

He reminded her of Chat.

Maybe it was the resemblance to her partner, but some instinct drove her to his side, her hand tentatively reaching out to rub small circles into his shoulder. Had it been Chat crying beside her, she would have pulled him into her arms, unafraid to hold him close- but Adrien wasn’t Chat, as similar as the two were, and there were lines between the two of them that she didn’t dare cross.

Regardless, she heard the slight shift in his breath as her hand brushed over his knitted jumper, and took it as a signal to begin talking. “He can’t take us away from you. No matter what your dad says, me and Nino and the rest of our friends will always be with you.” Emotionally, at least, since the Agreste mansion had more security than City Hall, and it was only her powers that allowed her to sneak in. 

Although Nino had his Miraculous now, and while Adrien didn’t know that, she was sure they could figure out a way to explain Nino’s supernatural ability to break into Adrien’s, after all, he’d done it before, hadn’t he? Back when Adrien’s dad had gone to Tokyo, the boys had snuck in for a few hours to hang out. Mylene had been pissed when she’d found out they’d ditched planting trees, although no one regretted giving Adrien a few hours of normalcy.

“Even if you can’t see us in person, we’ll always be available to call- although I don’t have a phone right now… But we’re always gonna be here for you, Adrien! I promise you.”

“Thanks, Marinette.” He met her eyes with a weak smile, but there was something in his expression that was so similar to the way Chat’s face pulled when he didn’t quite agree with what she was saying.

Adrien was optimistic enough, but he probably needed more than promises of contact to believe that he wasn’t going to be trapped here again.

She wished he didn’t have to stay here, she wished he could leave and live the life he deserved…

She wanted to scoop him into her arms and swing off across Paris, stealing him away from his father’s gold-plated cage- but Adrien needed to make the decision to leave on his own, he needed to have full autonomy over that choice. All she could do was promise a safe place should he choose to run away.

“If you ever need a place to go though, whether it’s for a few hours, or a few days, you're always welcome with us. I mean, I’m staying in Le Grand Paris right now, but you can come there too! And I know Nino would kill to have you around his for a sleepover, and Alya’s little sisters can be a pain but she’d be able to set you up on the sofa. You’re never a burden to us, Adrien, and anytime you need anything, even if it’s just a hug, all you have to do is ask.”

A part of her wanted to give him a Miraculous, so that he could escape like Chat did, run off into the night and experience freedom, even if it was only for a short amount of time.

But after everything that had happened, she doubted Master Fu would trust her to make those choices again.

“Thank you… And I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you this week, my father… He thinks I’ll be in danger with you.”

Guilt twisted in her stomach as the image of Rose’s akumatised form flashed through her mind, the memory of Alya and Nino talking about the press stalking them at school reminding her exactly why she’d worked so hard to preserve her secret.

“He’s got a point…” She locked her gaze on her shoes, focusing her attention on the black dots that spotted them, “Hawkmoth knows who I am now, if he decides to come after you or Alya or Nino or anyone to get to me…”

She hated everything about this. She hated that she couldn’t do anything to protect them, that she was endangering them all, that she-

Adrien’s hand was warm against her shoulder, and her gaze flickered up to meet his eyes. A soft smile pulled at his lips, “I’m pretty sure Alya and Nino can hold their own, and my house is built like a military bunker, I think I’ll be fine.”

She giggled a little alongside him. It had unnerved her a little when that magician… Jackaday, got akumatised and the Agrestes had activated such an intense lockdown around their house. Now it was more reassuring than anything to know that Adrien would be safe…

Well, physically safe, but between her and Nino they’d work on the rest of it.

Their rueful laughter faded away, leaving in its wake a silence Marinette didn’t know how to fill. She didn’t want to push Adrien, or say something stupid that made him hate her and isolate himself from everyone, but she also didn’t want to make him feel awkward for inviting her over…

But what would she even say? If it was Chat sitting beside her, she would have probably cussed out his dad and scooped him into her arms, and the two of them would have spent the evening distracted from life with dumb conversations and races across the Parisian rooftops. Adrien wasn’t Chat Noir, though, and she had no idea what he needed to feel better.

She was mulling over how exactly to pick up the conversation, her mind going over a million different scripts to approach the silence between them, when Adrien spoke.

“So, how are you finding being a celebrity?” There was a dry humour behind his words, and it hit her that he was far too familiar with the life she’d been thrust into. She’d felt so alone in dealing with it all, since Chloé was the only person who really knew what it was like to be in the limelight, but she didn’t seem to care in the same way Marinette did, that Adrien did.

She groaned dramatically, letting herself slump into the sofa, “How do you deal with it? Every time I think about it my brain feels like it’s about to explode!”

She tried not to acknowledge the fact that the whole world knew who she was, tried to ignore Alya and Chloé when they brought up her newfound fame. The idea that people she didn’t know were talking about her… it was just weird .

Adrien laughed a little, though it was still more rueful than humorous. “You find places where you can be yourself, and eventually the press dies down a bit. They probably won’t ever leave you alone, but at some point they’ll find other people to stalk and you can leave your house without being blinded by cameras.”

She kinda wanted to throw up at the thought.

“I wanted to be famous one day. I wanted to be like… Audrey Bourgeois - or not like Audrey Bourgeois-” she added, remembering just how awful Chloé’s mum was“-but a famous designer or something, y’know? But now I’d give anything for people to ignore me and leave me alone.”

She hadn’t even experienced the full force of it all yet, having been hidden away in Le Grand Paris, but she’d seen the way people acted around Adrien (and her stomach turned at the reminder that she’d been one of them), and she’d been swarmed by the press each time she’d left the hotel.

There was just a suffocating sense of dread that slowly wound its way around her throat at the realisation that the second everything was over, she’d live a life under such intense surveillance, that she’d never be truly free from the Miraculous and this war.

“I get that.” His arm wrapped around her, the motion hesitant and light, and she wished that Chat were there to hold her close.

“I just feel like… like Ladybug was supposed to end. I was supposed to defeat Hawkmoth then give back my earrings and then just be Marinette, and no-one but Chat Noir would know it had been me.” She wished it could have been that way. Their identities had always been something so personal, and Chat was meant to be the first person to know. It was meant to be special. “But… But I’m never going to not be Ladybug, am I? All my dreams… I can’t have anything anymore, because they’re not Ladybug things to do or want.”

She knew Adrien felt similarly, that all his hobbies were decided by his father, structured to mould him into the perfect image of the Gabriel brand. 

“Who decides what Ladybug does or wants? You have a responsibility to be a role model, not to throw away your life just because the world knows your name.” There was an edge to his voice, and she might have called it jealousy had it been anyone but Adrien beside her. His tone reminded her of the way Chat sounded when he was annoyed at the world, and so she supposed he was just thinking about his own life, after all, it didn’t seem directed towards her.

“But Ladybug is responsible and selfless and- I don’t even know! I didn’t even realise I had a reputation to keep until all the lines started blurring! As Ladybug, I was just focussing on getting the job done, but then people started putting all this responsibility and trust in me and I don’t want to betray that by being super awkward and clumsy and having dreams that aren’t completely altruistic! I have to be perfect because if I’m not they won’t trust me anymore!”

She scowled, only realising then how tense she’d become, and slumped back in defeat, exhaustion washing away the anger that had woven itself into her muscles. “It just sucks.”

Adrien rubbed her back in a mirror of her own comforting motions from earlier, his own voice still twinged with bitterness as he spoke, “I understand, it’s like, some big fancy cage that everyone is telling you you should be grateful for being locked in, and even when you just want to be a normal human being, you have all this responsibility and people looking up to you, and you can’t-” He let out a frustrated sigh, “This isn’t helping, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head frantically. “No! You’re helping! I mean, it’s nice just having someone understand, y’know? Even if there isn’t any way out of it, I- I feel less alone now. Thank you, Adrien.”

Maybe she was deluding herself, but his cheeks seemed tinged with pink… For some reason, it didn’t make her heart flutter in the way she expected it to. All her brain could focus on was how much he looked like Chat…

Chat… Why was she thinking about him so much? She lo- She knew how she felt about Chat, but she’d assumed that seeing Adrien again would remind her of her feelings for her first crush, that she’d find her heart pulled between the two of them, instead of seeing Chat in everything Adrien did, instead of longing for Chat’s presence like this…

“What about Chat Noir? Wouldn’t he understand?” She wondered for a moment if Adrien could read her mind, it wouldn’t have been the wildest thing to happen… But she decidedly did not want to live in a reality in which Adrien had any insight into the many daydreams she’d had about him in class, or-

She shook that train of thought away, considering for a moment, before: “I don’t… Maybe? But he still has his secret identity, and I don’t know what his life is like behind the mask… Sure we deal with people obsessing over us as superheroes, but there’s always been an end to it. Like, you take the suit off and suddenly no-one knows who you are. People aren’t as invasive, not to our faces at least.”

Something flashed across Adrien’s face, but it was gone before she could even begin to decipher it. “You don’t know who he is?”

She wished more than anything that she could. She wanted to break down the wall of secrets and lies between them. She needed to tell him…

She shook her head, pushing away the burning feeling that caught her chest. “I can’t. Not unless we defeat Hawkmoth.”

“ Until you defeat Hawkmoth.” Adrien corrected, shifting so he was facing her, an encouraging smile on his lips that reminded her so much of Chat and- She really needed to stop thinking about him while she was with Adrien, but everything about him made her heart ache for her partner. “You’ll do it, Marinette; you’re amazing! Just believe in yourself, okay?”

She smiled, trying to ignore the ever increasing similarities between Adrien and Chat. “Thanks. Y’know, I wanted to give you a Miraculous a couple of times, you’re kind and compassionate and-” she cut herself off before she could embarrass herself, “I think you’d make a great superhero.”

“Thank you, Marinette. I wasn’t lying when I said you were our ‘everyday Ladybug’. Even without the suit, you’re still amazing.”

There was something deprecating in Adrien’s tone, and she felt herself grow indignant, as if their conversation had somehow transitioned into a debate into which of them was better - an argument she didn’t plan on losing. “You’re amazing too! Seriously, you’re so good and kind and wonderful and brave! I mean, you jumped off a skyscraper to help me defeat Gorizilla! And you fought Kagami when she was akumatised!”

Adrien rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips pulled into a smirk, “Marinette, in case you hadn’t noticed, you fight akumas every day.”

“Yeah, with superpowers .”

“Still-”

She cut him off, already feeling her cheeks warm from his compliments, “Let’s just agree that we’re both super awesome, yeah?” 

Adrien hummed, before breaking into a cat-like grin, “I still think you’re a thousand times more amazing.”

“Well…” She wracked her brain for a way to deter Adrien from his point, her eyes tracking the countless activities and games that lined his bedroom, a grin tugging at her mouth at the sight of a familiar DVD case. “How about a game of Ultimate Mecha Strike? Whoever loses concedes to the other’s point.”

“That’s rigged! My lucky charm isn’t gonna hold up against The Ladybug! ” She almost scoffed at the implication that she needed any kind of luck to beat him, and with a confidence that felt so foreign in Adrien’s presence, she winked, reaching for one of the controllers that were tucked neatly beneath his coffee table.

“Oh? Are you forfeiting?” 

“No way!” He scowled playfully, grabbing the only other controller and loading up the game.

She’d only played UMS once since everything had fallen apart, and she’d lost every single round against her dad, too caught up in her own failure to succeed. The lingering sense of doubt still slowed her motions, still caught her mind in its web, but there was a renewed sense of certainty that drove her, a spark of hope that felt so familiar and so strange, almost nostalgic in the way it ignited her determination again, after a week of feeling so helpless.

Adrien didn’t stand a chance.

“The stars are pretty.” 

The night was cold, her suit doing little to fend off the chill. A pink flush painted her cheeks, one she stubbornly identified as a response to the winter’s air, and not the boy lying on the rooftop beside her.

Chat had found her on her way back from Adrien’s, and pulled her off to one of their favourite rooftop gardens. It had been abandoned for years, the building below was run down and ignored by the city council; it was the perfect spot for late night patrols, out of sight, and impossible to intrude upon.

Her parents were safe at the hotel. Hawkmoth hadn’t found her yet, and the only one who had seen her leave had been a harmless stray cat. 

And she had found herself aching for the freedom she’d always had as Ladybug before everything, she hadn’t been able to resist Chat’s offer to escape the ornate cage that was Le Grand Paris, to run, to feel the wind against her skin, free from the burden of duty - if only for an hour or so.

Besides, Chat had seemed so fixated on staying outside, and she hadn’t had the heart to give in to her own paranoia and drag him back to the hotel.

“Not as pretty as you.” 

She brushed the comment aside, ignoring the heat in her cheeks as she continued to trace arbitrary shapes between the stars. “Do you know any of the constellations?”

“This cat knows everything, M’lady.” He spoke with a conviction that assured her that whatever he was about to say would be complete bullshit, but there was a nostalgic comfort to lying atop a rooftop and spinning stories together, and so she simply hummed, inviting him to continue.

He pretended to think for a moment, before pointing to a cluster of stars above them. “That one is ‘ μαύρη γάτα’ , an-”

She snorted, cutting him of, “ ‘Mari-cata?’ ” she sounded out the words before hoisting herself up into an upright position to look down at his face. “That’s not another ship name, is it?”

“No-” but he was smirking, and she had already decided she didn’t believe a word he was saying, “it’s Greek for ‘black cat’, now shush, and let me tell you about it.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything, watching him stare up at the sky above him, “ Mayri Cat is named after an unstoppable duo, who saved the world from evil. Even when everything seemed to be going wrong, they always found a way to win.”

There was something about him, something so earnest and good, that warmed her cheeks despite the cold winter breeze. He never hesitated in his encouragement, never stopped promising her that she would win, and for all of the hopelessness that brewed inside her, she found herself believing his words a little more each time he told them.

And after the press conference earlier… well, the people of Paris still had their doubts, that was evident, but they hadn’t been as universal as she’d assumed, and the knowledge that there were still people out there who believed in them, that her friends still believed in her, still trusted her, eased the worry in her mind, if only a little.

She didn’t really know what to say to him, there was nothing she hadn’t said a thousand times before, and so she simply smiled and commented, “I didn’t know you spoke Greek, Minou .”

She didn’t doubt that he’d been telling the truth about that - in the time she’d known him he’d proven himself proficient in several languages.

“I only know ‘ μαύρη γάτα’ , I was trying to come up with better names after Stoneheart, but then I realised ‘Chat Noir’ was just too good.”

She laughed as he flipped his hair dramatically, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she replied, “Unbeatable.”

“Why did you choose ‘Ladybug’? Coccinelle is just as nice- Not that Ladybug isn’t a good name or anything!”

“Honestly? It was just the first thing that came to my head.” She shrugged, ‘Coccinelle’ was also just a little too on the nose. At least ‘Ladybug’ being an English word made the title a bit more… creative. Although in hindsight, both her name and costume were much blander than Marinette would have wanted, had she been worried about anything other than the massive responsibility thrust on her in that moment.

When Ladybug and Marinette had been two distinct people, it had never bothered her, but now it felt like a betrayal of her creativity to come up with such a simplistic alter-ego for herself.

If Ladybug had always been more creative, more like Marinette, would it hurt so much to lose herself to that duty? Would it feel like such a shift in her life, if she had never fallen into that persona?

She dismissed the thought, it wasn’t like she could change the past - Bunnyx certainly hadn’t deemed it necessary - and focused on her partner.

His eyes drifted from the stars, and she couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered when his eyes landed on hers, his voice soft and gentle and filling her stomach with butterflies. A clap of thunder caught her heart at the unwavering care he had for her, at the rightness of being with him, at the way his presence felt like an anchor in the storm of their lives.

Falling in love with Adrien had been sudden, and from that moment on she’d been pulled and dragged by the thundering of her own heart, her mind forfeit to the feeling.

Falling in love with Chat was like walking through the rain, barely noticing the transition from spitting droplets to a downpour until she was drowning in it, and yet even the cold rush of fear that accompanied her feelings was never quite enough to push her to take cover.

“I love you.”

The words hung between them. She hadn’t meant to let them escape the confines of her mind, hadn’t meant to share them with him, hadn’t meant to risk the world slipping back into white and blue-

“You… You love me?”

But it was the truth. A realisation she’d only half acknowledged, one that demanded to be shouted from the rooftops, shared with the world. He was her other half, the person she trusted with more than just her life. Even when she’d been with Adrien, all she could think of was him.

He was staring at her with wide eyes, and she turned her attention to where her hands twisted around each other in her lap, regret flooding her instantly.

Water filling her lungs, her body dissolving into ash-

It wasn’t the right time. She’d promised herself she’d wait until Hawkmoth was defeated, until Chat Blanc was nothing but a distant memory, an impossible circumstance, until it was safe .

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have- That was stupid. I just- You said last night no more secrets and it’s been on my mind since Sunday and… Never mind. Forget it. It was stupid anyway.”

Chat shifted so he was sitting beside her, his hand cupping her cheek. “It’s not stupid. I- I love you too.”

His eyes flicked to her lips, before he looked back up at her, something almost guilty in his expression. 

Hawkmoth hadn’t found her yet, they’d defeated both akumas he’d sent with more ease than ever before, and even after everything had gone wrong at the press conference, her friends had still stuck by her side.

Bunnyx wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The only light on the horizon was the warm glow of street lamps, and the distant sparkle of the Eiffel Tower.

Maybe… Maybe this time it was okay. Maybe this time it would be safe. Maybe this future wouldn’t be as broken as the one she had visited in the past…

But even if it was, even if that destruction was inevitable, she couldn’t really take back what she had said, and they would be able to face it together, right? The two of them against the world. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she shuffled closer to him, tracing her thumb along his jaw with a confidence she didn’t know she had, “I know.”

She hesitated for a moment, scanning the night one more time for any kind of warning, any hint of white and blue.

She found nothing.

She pressed her lips to his, and it was as if something shattered between them, a thread of tension, a line she’d been terrified to cross, washed away with the motion. The kiss was clumsy, neither of them really had any experience, but it made her chest feel like it was burning, heart racing sporadically as she let the world slip away, losing herself to the warmth of his arms and the faint scent of mint on his breath.

She’d kissed him before, when he’d been under the influence of Le Dislocœur, and again when they’d both lost their memories, although she couldn’t remember that one. She understood now why she’d kissed him, how she’d fallen so desperately for him.

The cold January air bit at her, her suit doing little to fend off the cold. 

The future Paris had been cold too. 

They would face it all together, the two of them against the world.

She tried to focus on the warmth of his lips, on the way his fingers raked through her hair, on the feel of her hands against his chest-

“You will always be Chat Noir to me.”

-she pushed herself away, the metal roof clanking loudly as she fell back, squeezing her eyes shut as if it would save her from the blue and white as the night was bleached with her memory.

“Look at what you’ve done, Marinette.”

The countertop was cold under her fingers as Sabine lightly drummed them against it, waiting for the kettle to boil.

Marinette had only left a few minutes ago, but already her heart was beating painfully in her chest, concern driving away her usual steady patience. It was a familiar routine, to watch Ladybug swing through the city and find her gut twisting painfully in response, to spend the night desperately refreshing the news for confirmation of her daughter’s safety, but its familiarity made it no less unpleasant.

Her only comfort was that Marinette was presumably headed to the Agreste’s, and she would undoubtedly be safe there, with all their excessive security.

A knock broke the quiet of the room, and she heard Tom shift from where he’d been staring out of the window, watching the horizon for any sign of Marinette, to go and open the door. It was probably only Chloé, who, for all her flaws, seemed to be trying to be nice, although Sabine remained wary of Marinette’s former bully.

The brush of the door against the carpet was followed by a gasp, and she spun around at her husband’s near silent exclamation of fear.

Hawkmoth stood in the doorway, a twisted monster looming in the shadows behind him.

“Monsieur and Madame Dupain-Cheng. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Chapter Text

INTERLUDE TWO: The Last Guardian

England was, unsurprisingly, cold.

It was by no means far enough from Paris - ideally he would have left Europe, if getting the Miracle Box through customs was possible - but the Channel and unreliable British transport systems would put enough space between him and Hawkmoth should Marinette let anything slip.

His battered suitcase rumbled against the cracked brick path as he made his way towards the hotel. It was a particularly grim looking building, a nondescript, blocky style that mirrored every other town he’d visited so far. A part of him felt disrespectful for taking something as grand and important as the Mother Box into such a grimy place, but surely the kwamis would forgive him in the name of their safety.

He kept his head down as he entered the reception, passing over the fake name he’d booked the room under in exchange for the key to his hideout for the night. Perhaps he was being overly paranoid in moving locations each day, but it was better than risking the rest of the Miracle Box falling into Hawkmoth’s hands.

He turned the TV on the second he got into the dingy little room, pressing the buttons ‘2’,’3’,’1’ on the remote and letting the monotone voices of the BBC reporters fade into the background as he pulled a bin-bag out of his suitcase, taping it over the window - an extra precaution, in case the blinds betrayed his privacy.

He slipped the chain into the door for an extra level of security, then pushed the desk that sat in the corner of the room up against it.

None of it made him feel any safer.

The bed was uncomfortable when he sat down, and the room was far too quiet without Wayzz for him to shake the feeling of being watched. He missed his kwami, his friend, and hoped that Marinette’s friend was taking good care of him.

He ought not dwell on that though, not when there were bigger issues at hand.

He wasn’t really paying attention to the TV, only vaguely listening out for any mention of Paris or Hawkmoth. Marinette had only been mentioned once on the British channels, and only in a passing comment about European affairs, but since he couldn’t connect to TVi here, and he’d abandoned his phone and tablet in Paris, panicked that they could be used to track him, the BBC was his only way of knowing what was going on back in France.

“-attack in Paris today, discussions are being held to relocate Parisians. Fifteen-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng spoke at a press conference today, assuring the people of Paris that she would keep them safe, but many remain conflicted about leaving the responsibility of stopping a domestic terrorist in the hands of a teenager. Our French correspondent, Molly Walsh, has the details.”

He muted the telly again. He didn’t need to hear a speech about how little faith the world had in Marinette and Adrien, about how much of a mistake he’d made by entrusting such powerful Magics to children, about how the Wish was becoming less and less of a distant threat.

If Hawkmoth managed to get the Miraculous… He wasn’t sure how the Universe would be rewritten, but the cost would probably be devastating.

He shouldn’t have left the Miraculous with Marinette and Adrien. No, he should have taken them and fled, found a way to travel to Oceania, maybe: Australia was far enough away and hard enough to get to for him to protect the Miraculous for another few hundred years.

He’d trusted Marinette, perhaps only because of the feeling of care and familial affection he’d grown towards her, naively throwing away his pledge of solitude and duty to the Box in his desire to protect her.

He’d never wanted to be a Guardian. He’d never been very good at it.

Marinette had seemed perfect to be his successor, with her determined sense of justice and willingness to do whatever it took to enact it. Her morality lay more in her end goal than her journey, and he feared that had she been any more selfish and any less loving, she might have made an even more formidable villain than Hawkmoth…

But she was good and kind… too good, even, because she would probably risk the Miraculous to keep the city safe, instead of prioritising her earrings above all else. That was his own fault though. He shouldn’t have put the Ladybug and Black Cat into circulation, and certainly not together…

He should tell her to run, to leave Paris behind. If she left, the government could surely be trusted to evacuate any civilians, should Hawkmoth continue his rampage, and it was unlikely that he would if the object of his attention was removed from his grasp.

Although maybe Hawkmoth had figured out that Marinette wouldn’t sit back and watch the city suffer, in which case, telling her to flee would do nothing but worsen the guilt she was undoubtedly carrying. 

He pulled open the Miracle Box, fingers lightly brushing the empty space where the Rabbit Miraculous should have been, before he slipped the Miraculous of the Snake onto his wrist. It was a poor imitation of the familiar way the Turtle Miraculous wrapped around his arm, and the low thrill of Magic that ran through him as he wore it did nothing to console the conflict of his mind.

If only he wasn’t bound by the rules of the Order, surely Sass would have been able to reset their timeline, although the heavy tears in reality that would leave might be worse than the consequences of whatever Wish Hawkmoth intended to make.

Sass materialised before him, the same, unfaltering look of disappointment that he’d worn each time Fu had woken him pulled at the Kwami’s face.

“Good evening, Master.”

“What do I do?” His voice was more desperate than it should have been at his age, but with the way everything seemed to be crumbling around him, he didn’t feel any older than the twelve-year-old boy who’d left his order, his home, to burn behind him.

He hadn’t known what to do then, and he’d never really figured it out since.

“You know what I think.” It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation: he knew the kwamis wanted him to return to Paris, to offer Marinette and Adrien guidance and support, but if he did, he would be putting even more Miraculous in danger. He couldn’t let Hawkmoth take control of the rest of the box, he couldn’t surrender the last defence he might have, couldn’t put his own knowledge in Hawkmoth’s reach.

He’d never wanted to be a guardian. He’d never been very good at it.

“If Tikki and Plagg are captured, there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

But he didn’t have a choice. He was the last guardian of the Order, and it was his duty to protect the secrets of the Miraculous, no matter what.

“You have to make a choice, Wang Fu. Are you going to protect these children, or risk letting the universe pay the price?”

He needed to go back to Paris.

Chapter Text

A scream cut through the air, panicked and distant before he had the chance to process what he was hearing, its source falling out of earshot as quickly as she’d entered it.

But the terror that pulsed through his brooch told him everything he needed to know.

The self proclaimed ‘heroes’ around him disappeared at her cry, relenting in their attacks to watch her fall, a wave of hopelessness, of fear and grief, swelling as they were all far too slow to reach her, to do anything other than let her body slam into the pavement below.

The ground beneath him was bathed in pink, his enemy crumpled and lifeless at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.

He had akumatised enough of her friends, even tried to akumatise her on multiple occasions, to recognise the childish pigtails and amateur designs of his enemy, even with the splashes of red and purple that painted her skin.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng. ”

His son’s classmate, the girl who had won his design competition, the girl who had stolen and returned the Grimoire… So she hadn’t been infatuated with his son then: she’d been looking for him .

He smiled: she was naive, stupid even, if she had dropped her suspicions so easily after seeing him get akumatised, and now he had the upper hand.

Chloé Bourgeois was the first to move, a blur of yellow disappearing down the side of the tower, cutting off Nathalie before she could get to Ladybug’s body. Rena Rouge and Chat Noir were quick to follow, pulling their fallen ‘hero’ away.

He was vaguely aware of the other hero moving towards him, of fluorescent green tinting the edges of his vision as Carapace prepared for an attack.

He could fight him. It would be all too easy, with the other heroes occupied, with Ladybug dead.

Emilie would never forgive him for letting her die…

But death was such a fickle thing where the Miraculous were involved. He would need to relent for now, let the heroes believe they had won, cast the cure. After all, he knew who she was now, and there was only so long she could hide before he claimed her earrings.

Finally, after a year of fighting these insolent children, victory was within his grasp.

“What are we going to do now, Gabriel?”

He twisted the ring on his finger, fixated on the muted news stream of the Dupain-Cheng bakery. It would be hopeless to go now, while Chat Noir and the other ‘heroes’ would be nearby. They’d be prepared for an ambush, or a direct attack, no doubt Marinette was already working with the Guardian to find a way to protect her jewels.

Of course, there was a possibility they would find a new Ladybug holder, but he doubted the Guardian would let Marinette’s proficiency with magic go to waste, not with all she’d done to prove herself as powerful as she had.

But even if the Miraculous had been passed on, Marinette still knew things he needed to know: she knew who the Guardian was, where he lived, and quite likely had insights into the Grimoire that he had yet to discover.

All that power and knowledge was wasted on such an insignificant school-girl.

School-girl… She was in Adrien’s class, wasn’t she? Surely he could use that…?

“She’s Adrien’s friend, perhaps-”

He fell silent at the look Nathalie gave him. “She would never forgive you if you hurt him.”

He scoffed. It was ludicrous that Nathalie would even imply something like that. Hurting Adrien? He would never hurt Emilie’s only child, his own son…

But Adrien could hurt Marinette. Adrien could play an essential role in isolating that brat from her friends, in making her the perfect target for his attacks. He knew that Ladybug was infatuated with Adrien, that much had been clear from the few interactions she’d had with Gabriel Agreste, and Marinette had outright confessed her attraction to his son when she’d returned the Grimoire.

He could use it… If he kept Adrien away from her, targeted her friends until they abandoned her, turned the press in his favour… He knew Ladybug was far too stubborn to give in to his akumas, far too gifted with magic to remain within his control, but if he could break her down first, until she had no other choice…

It was still too risky of a plan, too dangerous to trust that akumatising her would go the way he wanted it to. Perhaps if he were to target her family, her friends, she would be reluctant to fight them- although, he’d akumatised her entire class, and several members of her family already, and she hadn’t hesitated to defeat them like any other akuma…

No, he needed to think more carefully about this, he needed a plan that she would never be able to out think, one she wouldn’t be able to predict. If there was any room for error, any possibility that she could win… No, he needed to be more cautious than that.

Ladybug was a strategist, she relied on patterns, on some kind of subconscious game of ‘connect the dots’ to claim her victories. Her plans seemed convoluted on the surface, but there had to be some kind of program in her mind, a logic only she understood driving her creativity.

And if she lost those patterns, what chance did she stand?

The sun was setting over Paris, painting his observatory in an orange glow.

He scrolled through the documents Nathalie had sent him, a compilation of every bit of knowledge she could find on Marinette, her friends, and her family.

It was all worthless. Nothing in there but drivel about falling grades and repeated absences and constant trips to the school’s matron, nothing he could use to trap her, to steal her Miraculous for good.

Ladybug was stubborn, and yet in spite of that her confidence had always been irresolute, prone to crumble the moment she encountered any hurdle. He knew how she fought, how she was apathetic in battle, setting her emotions aside for the greater good, how she relied on Chat Noir and her team. 

But he had known all of that before, carefully observing his enemies since their first appearance. The only knowledge he had gained was as to who her friends and family were, and that she’d fought almost all of them without reluctance.

A useful titbit, though it only confirmed his preconceived notions about the girl.

Every news channel had featured a near constant stream of the bakery, which had remained closed, the only visitor being Chat Noir, who had yet to leave.

She wouldn’t be there long though, not if André’s depressingly long rant to him about having to do his own job as Mayor of the city had told him anything. Apparently Chloé was pushing for Marinette and her family to be moved into Le Grand Paris.

There were some perks to maintaining that ‘friendship’ with the Bourgeois family after all, even if it was such a chore to listen to the ramblings of a failing mayor.

But if Marinette was at Le Grand Paris, it would keep his own attack on her hidden from the news, allowing him to ambush her without the risk of her silly little friends being alerted and rushing to her side. He just needed to time it right, lure her into a false sense of security, set her focus on a false trail of clues to raise her guard in a way that would leave her completely vulnerable to his true intentions…

He should akumatise someone now, begin a crusade against her, deny her even a moment to catch her breath, but as he reached out his consciousness, a bold of pain shot through his head, as if the entire city was screaming at him, an endless wail of fear that would do little to aid him in his mission.

The city seemed unanimous in their desire to protect the girl, as if she wasn’t the source of all of their problems, as if she couldn’t have saved them all by handing over her earrings instead of playing a pathetic game.

Had Nathalie been able to help him again, he could have used this, twisted the epidemic of fear and indignant rage and horror and turned it into a weapon. His stunt on Heroes Day would be nothing more than a bad dream in comparison to the hell he could unleash-

But Adrien was still in the city, and he had taken after Emilie’s relentless need to protect the people she loved. Admittedly, Gabriel wasn’t as close to his son as he might have been, but he knew Adrien well enough to know he would undoubtedly throw himself into danger for Marinette and his silly friends.

And once he had those damned earrings, there would be no magical fix, no way of repairing any damage to the city.

Besides, what good was winning this war if he was discovered before he got the chance to make his Wish? If he continued to act so openly, he might end up incriminating himself in the process, and then he might never get to see Emilie again…

So for Emilie’s sake, he would have to hold back, even with his victory so tangible. He’d never beaten Ladybug at her game of strategy and luck, but then, his tactic thus far had been brute force, dragging out this war of attrition in the hopes that something might give, that the heroes would wear themselves out, surrender, perhaps.

But even when Ladybug had died, falling from the Eiffel Tower that morning, those wretched children hadn’t given up, continuing to push and push until he’d managed to flee. 

No, he needed a different tactic, something much more subtle, one that would catch Ladybug and her silly team of children so off-guard that they wouldn’t stand a chance against him. The game had changed now, and he wouldn’t have endless opportunities to get this right. He needed to-

Something shifted, catching the aura of his power. Not abnormal in its intent but so much stronger than the cries of the rest of the city, something so hopeless and terrified it was undoubtedly her, so powerful he barely needed to focus to attune to it. 

It had only been a day, and yet waves of loss and guilt and terror and self-deprecation emanated from her, insurmountable emotions that could destroy everything, so prodigious they could tear apart the very foundation of the world if he prayed on them.

If he akumatised her, he probably wouldn’t survive to make his wish.

So he didn’t. White butterflies fluttering around him as he listened to her anguish, beginning to piece together his final plan.

Only the rapid clicking of Nathalie’s keyboard disturbed the silence of his atelier, the setting sun breaking through the glass to paint the blacks and whites of his office a million shades of gold.

The room seemed bigger suddenly, empty like it had when he and Emilie had first moved into the mansion, when he’d watched as she danced around the space, falling into her orbit the moment she’d reached her hand out to him, both of them revelling in what was new and theirs, such a far cry from the cramped flat they’d lived in before.

He could see her figure in the golden specs of dust that floated in the air, hear the sound of their feet against the marble in the clacking of the keyboard, feel the warmth of her hands in his as he ran his fingers across his palms.

It was only a matter of time before he stopped having to imagine her image in the space she’d left behind, before he could hold her, dance with her like they had so many years ago.

“She’s at Le Grand Paris now.” Rena Rogue must have been given her Miraculous then, because every news channel had been fixed outside the bakery for hours, the only disturbances to the otherwise unchanging image were Chat Noir’s departure at around eight-o’clock that morning, and the arrival of a representative of the Police Préfecture, who’s only company on leaving had been another officer. There was no way Marinette could have left unnoticed, unless the Fox was at play.

His head grew foggy as he tried to identify the girl wielding the Fox, the answer so obvious and yet every time he tried to reach for it, it became intangible, nothing more than a searing pain.

Nooroo had called it ‘Quantum Masking’, though he didn’t particularly care for the specifics. All he knew was that the other heroes had to be around Marinette’s age, if she had picked them to fight by her side, and Chat Noir had disappeared just in time for the school day to begin, undoubtedly also a teenager.

“Good. And her phone?” Her phone number hadn’t been hard to find, and then all it had taken was a carefully ambiguous Twitter account to leak all the contact information they could find to the world. It was imperative that he overwhelmed her, rid her of whatever sense of security she thought she had.

“Disconnected. Her social media accounts have been inactive since Saturday.” That was even better than he’d hoped. With no phone, Marinette would have no quick way of calling for backup, no way of seeking help when he found her.

“She’s alone, then.” She wouldn’t be attending school, hidden away from all her friends, with no way to contact anyone. It was perfect.

“Chloé took Alya Césaire, Nino Lahiffe and…” Nathalie hesitated for a moment, glancing towards the door of the atelier before she continued, “and your son to the hotel earlier. It was before Mlle.Dupain-Cheng arrived, but we can’t count on her being completely isolated like you’d hoped.”

Adrien… Adrien could be so useful if he were only a little crueller. The potential his son had to draw out Marinette’s secrets, to leave her completely vulnerable to his attacks was immense, but Adrien was too much of his mother’s son, far too kind and caring to ever agree to hurt his friend, no matter how much she was keeping from him.

Not to mention his son’s recent rebellious streak, his running away to school and constant disappearances. No, Adrien had become too much of a wild card to trust with his secret. 

Perhaps he could use Adrien in another way, keep his son away from Marinette and hurt her through Adrien’s sudden distance? Or akumatise Adrien and-

Emilie would never forgive him.

He sighed, beginning the effort of clearing his desk. “I will deal with Adrien, and the others won’t be so careless as to go to the hotel and risk giving away her location.”

“And if they do?”

He carefully straightened his cravat, sparing his desk a final glance before he began to make his way across the room, “Then we’ll separate them with an akuma. I doubt we can do much about that pesky cat, but…”

“Where are you-?”

“Dinner with my son. I need to find out more about Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

He closed the door with more force than was strictly necessary, cutting off whatever comment Nathalie might have made about his spending time with Adrien.

He couldn't quite remember when he and Adrien had last dined together, he mused as he crossed the entry hall, the muffled tapping of his shoes punctuating each step. When Emilie had been healthy, the three had spent every waking hour in each other’s company, their dining hall as much a place of life as their sitting rooms had once been. Board games often sat tucked onto disused chairs, those immature puzzles Adrien had loved as a kid pushed out of the way as they ate. Emilie’s voice had always carried them through the day, breakfast and lunch and tea all full of chatter and laughter and love. 

Then she’d gotten sick, and his meals had been shared with the darkness of their room as Emilie slept restlessly beside him, Adrien attended to by Nathalie, sheltered from the reality of his mother’s fate.

After she’d… Eventually it had become a habit for him to take his meals alone, too scared to face his young son and the innocently painful questions he asked.

Adrien was older now, enough so to know better than to mention Emilie.

It still hurt to see her son sitting at the opposite end of the table, wearing her eyes and her smile.

He wiped away the wetness that filled his eyes. It wouldn’t hurt for much longer: soon Emilie would be back, guiding their meals with her infectious laughter and endless light.

Soon.

He pushed open the door to the dining room, barely sparing Adrien a glance as he made his way to the head of the table, sending a curt nod to the cook who peered out of the kitchen door.

“Good evening Adrien.”

“G-good evening father. Are you joining me for dinner?”

Gabriel watched his son, taking note of the slight hurry in the way his knife carved through the venison, the awkward angle of his head, the way his eyes drifted out of focus.

He frowned at the subtle spike of anxiety his Miraculous radiated.

Perhaps he had been too absent as of late, if Adrien’s manners had fallen this far from perfection, or perhaps it was the consequence of his feelings for Ladybug. That was probably more likely, the girl was keeping everything from him, of course she would find a way to corrupt Adrien as well.

But Adrien’s poor table manners were not the reason he had deigned to eat with his son. No, there were more important matters at hand.

The cook brought out his plate, practically running away the second his food and cutlery had been set before him. He didn’t remember her name, Emilie had been the one to hire the staff, but he was grateful that she disappeared as discreetly as she’d arrived, allowing him privacy as he spoke to his son.

“I saw the news about Ladybug. Mlle.Dupain-Cheng is in your class, isn’t she?” He kept his voice as mild as possible, so practised in the art of deception that he doubted his son would ever be able to read the disdain he had for the girl.

“Yes,” Adrien hesitated for a moment, “Marinette’s one of my friends.” 

His Miraculous pulsed - it wasn’t exactly a lie, but not the truth either, if the feelings his brooch caught were genuine. He felt his own anger swell at the realisation that Ladybug had seduced his son with her saviour complex and adolescent need to be known. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was only digging herself a deeper pit, a naive little brat who didn’t know the true meaning of goodness beyond performative heroics, who had stolen his son away and kept Emilie locked in her slumber and condemned Nathalie to the same fate.

He took a sip of his wine, gritting his teeth to try to suppress the burning hatred in his chest.

Emilie would never forgive him if he killed a child.

Still, he wouldn’t deny the temptation was there.

“You will not publicise that fact, Adrien. In fact, it’s best you sever all ties with Mlle.Dupain-Cheng.”  It wasn’t the plan, he was supposed to use Adrien to gather information- but they could find other ways, other ways that kept Adrien away from that brat. “I will not have you associated with her or the danger she’s in.”

Not that he would put Emilie’s son in any danger but Adrien didn’t know that, and it was the only argument that he had that would force Adrien to stay away.

“But father!” The shock of Adrien’s raised voice only became more horrifying as he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the carpet. “Marinette needs me and-”

“As long as Hawkmoth is around anyone associated with Ladybug is at risk-” at risk of becoming an entitled brat like her. Adrien had never raised his voice before, let alone jumped to his feet in anger. He met Adrien’s glare with his own steely gaze, forcing his expression into one of stern disappointment. “You will do as I say, Adrien.”

Adrien didn’t relent, continuing to challenge him with his eyes. Gabriel hardened his expression. He didn’t want to reprimand Adrien again, not when he was old enough to know better.

Adrien’s expression faltered when Gabriel opened his mouth to continue, before he sunk back into the chair, hands in his lap, head hung low, like he’d used to when he’d been scolded for misbehaving as a child.

“Yes father.”

A slight chill ran across his back, the ghost of her fingers following it, an intangible memory of her floating everywhere around him.

He watched the wisp of her life dance around the room, hazy echoes of memories of moments far too mundane for him to have ever valued with the reverence he should have followed it through the black and white of the atelier. The room was too monochromatic for her, sleek and orderly and void of the colourful chaos she sought.

She would hate the life he’d carved out in her absence.

He picked up a pen, letting it move across a scrap of paper without restraint, ruffles and raw hems and loose shapes draping over the model he drew, his mind dyeing the sketch a million hues. It was the kind of dress she’d always loved to wear, wild and colourful, but armed with a careful composition that made it priceless, jaw-dropping. A statement piece that could never be half as stunning as her.

Perhaps he ought to redecorate the mansion, purge the minimalism and geometric patterns in favour of something much more creative, alive.

Something more like home.

Another chill ran across his skin.

He needed to bring her back first. He couldn’t recreate their lives without her.

“What’s the plan, Gabriel?” He’d forgotten Nathalie was there, in spite of the clacking of her computer as she worked.

What’s the plan… He had come up with a million options, weighed them all up in his mind, but crafting something that would make his victory inevitable was impossible with the stubborn luck of that girl.

He knew Ladybug though. While those children had been playing superheroes for fifteen months, claiming victory after victory, he had been studying them, figuring out just how they ticked. In their naivete they’d handed him interviews and conferences and months of footage on a silver platter, exposing their vulnerabilities to the world without a single thought of caution.

He knew exactly how they fought, exactly what she would be anticipating.

“As far as she knows she’s safe. She doesn’t know that we know where she is now, and I’m certain she’ll have set up some sort of trap at the bakery should we try to attack there.”

“So?”

“She’s expecting a direct attack, a change in the status quo.” He’d been careful to shield his hand, to act impulsive and desperate, to set up her expectations while he waited, dragging out their war of attrition for the perfect chance to change the game.

“You’re going to have to be clearer, Gabriel.”

He sighed, setting aside his pen to deign her his full attention. “We attack like normal, continue with akumas, let her beat them. Ladybug has a tendency to doubt herself, to be her own worst enemy - she’ll destroy herself with her own paranoia, trying to figure out what the plan is.”

It was a simple plan, one he was certain she would figure out, wanted her to figure out, even, because when she did, she would have no way of knowing what lay beyond it, and drive herself mad trying to predict the moves he would make, knowing she had no way of stopping them.

He’d seen the way she’d doubted herself when faced with the unknown, watched as her infatuated partner had had to reassure her time and time again. 

She would fall apart without him lifting a finger, all he needed to do was wait.

“And how does this get us the Miraculous? She hasn’t given in to our attrition so far, what makes you think she will now?”

“Before she hasn’t had the pressure of the press and the police on top of my efforts, she hasn’t been alone before, isolated from her friends like she is now.”

“Again - if she holds up against the pressure?” He tsked impatiently, beginning to tire of Nathalie’s doubts. If the girl was too stubborn to admit defeat, then it was simply a matter of holding her over the edge and forcing her to surrender. She was already walking herself there, already waiting for the final gust of wind that would send her falling, all he would need to do was give her a little… encouragement. 

“Then we bring someone she loves into the equation: the Ladyblogger, or her family - I don’t know. I only need something that will push her over the edge, I can already hear the way her mind is racing to figure out what I’m planning. Although, whatever we use as leverage needs to be in our possession before we make the offer - if she has the opportunity to save it, we’ll never get through to her.”

“Kidnapping?”

The word hung in the air for a moment, heavy and tangible.

He’d rationalised his plan a million times in his mind, but speaking it allowed, hearing the distaste in Nathalie’s tone…

Emilie would never forgive him.

She wouldn’t even have the chance to loathe him if he didn’t.

He swallowed, turning to face the portrait of his wife, locking his gaze on the image of her green eyes.

“If that’s what it takes.”

The sound of rushed movement broke the calm of the atelier, Nathalie’s heels tapping against the marble.

He didn’t take his eyes off Emilie's portrait.

“That’s too far. You can’t- Gabriel- Gabriel. Akumas are one thing, they have no memory, the damage is reversed, but kidnapping? Threatening someone’s life? The Miraculous Cure won’t reverse that.”

“What do you suggest?” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. She didn’t understand the weight of this, didn’t understand Ladybug like he did.

Nothing mattered - not him, not his morality, not the safety of the world - not while Emilie wasn’t here to fill it with her light.

“Chat Noir leaves at eight for school, her parents have a separate room. If you send an akuma that can remain invisible or immobilise her you can take her Miraculous without causing any harm.”

Perhaps, had he only been seeking the Ladybug Miraculous, it might have worked, but with so many variables at play, and a second Miraculous he couldn’t risk losing access to… No. Nathalie’s plan didn’t guarantee him that.

Chat Noir had never been an issue - if he could take Ladybug’s Miraculous, hold his beloved partner as bargaining material, Chat Noir would drop his ring without protest, but he needed Chat Noir there, alone, and that couldn’t happen unless Marinette Dupain-Cheng paid the price for her selfishness, unless she got hurt . Especially when all her little friends were around, acting as human shields for her.

Besides, he’d taken her powers before, and she’d only returned with half a dozen more Miraculous to save her kwami. No, Ladybug’s fate had been sealed the day she’d accepted those earrings. As long as she could fight, she would, and he couldn’t risk the possibility of her having the upper-hand.

But Nathalie wouldn’t understand that. She would only insist that there was some way to reason with those insolent children, and so he sighed, feigning an expression of resignation as he turned back to his assistant.

“I’ll need some way to know once she’s alone.”

A small black cat wandered the streets of Paris. Watching. Listening. Learning. Resolute in its mission.

It stretched across the icy metal of a rooftop, eyes locked on the girl frantically building something in the window, a trap, perhaps? Something red floated beside her, a sparkle of glitter and light following its movements.

The girl rolled her eyes, disappearing into the room with a frustrated swing of her arms. 

The cat shifted from its spot, beginning to scramble down the building. It needed to be closer to the girl, to learn more.

That was its purpose after all. To watch. To listen. To learn.

“Chat Noir is going to speak to Alya Césaire.” Mayura stood beside him, eyes closed in concentration, following her sentimonster in her mind.

“Send Chatteur to follow him.”

She nodded, and he called his own transformation under his breath, instantly greeted by the grating buzz of Parisian emotions. It had hurt the first few months after he’d claimed his power, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of noise, unable to filter out anything, blind to the people his akumas sought out until they were transformed.

Now he knew how to attune to the sorrows of the city, and Paris fell silent at his command, the muffled woes and self-pity of its people subsiding as he sought out the girl that kept everything from him.

Her mind was frantic, paranoid, a thousand possibilities moving below the surface, her fierce drive undercut by the pulsing terror she felt. Out of control. Lost. Desperate.

He smiled to himself, the empathy of his brooch affirming his plan.

Without realising it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was falling perfectly into his trap.

It watched from the rooftop opposite as people walked into the room. New people, one with long curly hair and the other with a red cap. The blonde girl was back as well, wrinkling her nose as the girl he was here to watch hugged the girl with curly hair. The blonde girl dragged the boy with the cap across the room, leaving the other two to their embrace.

Its Mistress would want to know. That was why she’d created it after all. To watch. To listen. To learn.

“Why don’t you hand over your Miraculous to Hawkmoth? Stop playing superheroes and end this shit.”

Gabriel grinned as the camera cut back to Ladybug’s twisted face, catching the slight lurch of her body as she moved closer to the microphone, anger palpable.

A wave of concern and resentment and anger washed through his brooch, the seed he’d planted catching in all the ways he had needed it to.

“Stop playing with your food, Adrien.” He watched as his son hesitated in his movements, quickly lapsing back into an image of perfection as he uttered an apology.

Gabriel was far too proper to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the lack of manners, but distaste still itched at his skin. Perhaps he would have to take up dining with Adrien more in future, if that damned girl had tainted his image so much - because it had to be Ladybug’s fault, why else would Adrien be acting like such a child, playing with his food, if not for the influence of that entitled little brat?

…Perhaps his resentment towards Marinette Dupain-Cheng was clouding his sense a little too much. Adrien had been surrounded by unrefined, obnoxious youths for far too long, all from that insufficient school.

Not that it would be a problem for too much longer. Marinette hadn’t returned to Françios Dupont since her identity had been revealed, and so Adrien couldn’t do much to hurt her by staying there. There was no need for him to maintain his little rebellious phase any longer.

“Your classmate was akumatised this morning, wasn’t she?” Adrien’s eyes widened, as if surprised he’s paid attention to his life. It was a ridiculous assumption, as if he would ever have permitted Adrien’s attendance at that school without thorough research. “I told you it was dangerous to be associated with Mlle.Dupain-Cheng. That’s two of her friends who have been targeted now.”

“Lila isn’t Marinette’s friend ,” Adrien seemed almost disgusted at the implication, assertion lacing his voice in a way that was so unlike his son, “and Rose was only akumatised because of that man in the crowd who upset Marinette.”

This wasn’t Emilie’s son. No, Adrien never would have spoken back, never would have acted so impolite, never would have disrespected him in such a way. He suppressed a scowl, all too aware of Adrien’s gaze to break his practised expression.

“Regardless, Hawkmoth is targeting people that Mlle.Dupain-Cheng is close to. It’s dangerous for you to be going to that school, Adrien.” Adrien’s fork nudged his food again with that same idle rudeness that was so uncharacteristic of him.

He sighed, setting down his cutlery to watch the way Adrien shrunk back in his seat. “On top of that, M.D'argencourt informed me that you didn’t show up to your fencing lesson today. I thought I could trust you to keep yourself safe, but clearly I was wrong. You won’t be returning to that school, Adrien. You will take all your lessons here, privately, under Nathalie’s watch.”

He rolled his eyes as Adrien whispered out a feeble plea, a far cry from their last meal, where his son had had the audacity to jump to his feet. It was silly, really, the way Adrien seemed so affected by such a trivial thing, so emotional and sad, as if he had never lived through real hardships, as if losing his stupid little friends was anything akin to losing his mother.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Adrien. It’s for your own good.”

A single pea slipped off the plate, and he frowned at the slight stain it left on the tablecloth, a faint trail of gravy bleeding into white.

Adrien’s hands shook as he crossed his knife and fork across his plate. “May I be excused?”

He nodded, letting his eyes close as he let out a huff of frustration. “So emotional. Just like you, Emilie.”

He sighed, massaging his temple between his two thumbs as Adrien slammed the door shut behind him.

The phantom touch of Emilie’s hand against his slouched shoulders, the illusion of her whisper in his ear as she told him to calm down while she comforted their son, the memory of her lips against his forehead before she followed Adrien out of the room - it was far too real, far more tangible than a memory should have been, and his heart only felt heavier for it, aching for her touch, her company, her assurance.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to perfectly recall the sound of her voice, the curve of her lips - his eyes stung at the realisation that her image was beginning to blur, beginning to become nothing more than a memory, a phantom of his past.

He couldn’t let her slip away like that, couldn’t live in a world with only her ghost to comfort him. He couldn’t.

How could he live in a world where her laughter didn’t echo around their home? Where her touch didn’t ease him through every moment of the day? Where he kept waking up alone, her side of their bed achingly cold?

He just couldn’t. He’d barely been living, he’d barely survived . Without her, everything was so, so devastatingly empty , the world nothing without her in it. The reassurance that she would be back, that she would once again pull him in her orbit, that she would paint their home in her light was the only thing keeping him alive.

But he could feel her memory drifting further and further away, Adrien becoming an increasingly painful reminder of her, the Miraculous still always just out of reach, never quite close enough to claim, and having her was feeling more and more like-

No. No, he would get her back. He was going to win, and he was going to destroy Marinette Dupain-Cheng if that’s what it took to hold Emilie in his arms again. He wouldn’t let anyone stop him, not even his own fragile morality.

He couldn’t live in a world without her. He just couldn’t.

Even if that meant she never forgave him.

The sound of footsteps echoed around the dining room, so different to the rhythmic steps that Emilie used to take, so practised and corporate that his scowl deepened, the hole in his heart only tearing deeper at the reminder that Emilie wasn’t there anymore.

“Gabriel,” Nathalie’s voice was softer than usual, a tone she reserved for him, far too expressive and caring for the stoic demeanour she wore. “Mlle.Dupain-Cheng has left the hotel.”

“What?” He lifted his head from his hands, narrowing his eyes at the golden brooch on her blazer. No akuma had been sent out, there was no reason for the girl to leave. Perhaps she was just as stupid as he had assumed, her apparent intelligence more a result of luck than actual reasoning, if she had been so reckless as to leave the ‘safety’ of the Bourgeois’ hotel.

“The sentimonster watched her leave. She seemed to be heading in our direction.”

She hadn’t figured him out, surely?

“Alone?”

Nathalie nodded, and he resisted the urge to laugh at the blatant stupidity of the girl’s plan. Did she intend to face him head on, alone without her little cat to defend her? It was almost disheartening to think that he had lost so many times to someone so foolish.

He ignored the way his chair clattered to the floor as he stood, moving toward the door in quick strides. If Ladybug was out there alone, defenceless, there was no way he was going to let her escape his wrath.

“What are you-”

The sound of Nathalie’s heels clicking against marble echoed around the entrance hall as he walked towards the long-disused staff entrance at the back of the house. He wouldn’t risk being spotted leaving via the main gates of the mansion, not if Ladybug was hunting him down. “I will not have her bringing the fight to my doorstep. I’m going to stop her.”

“What about Adrien-?”

The cold air bit into the damp streaks across his face as he stepped out into the garden, scanning the horizon for any hint of that pesky girl.

“If we stop hesitating so much, she won’t ever reach-” His son’s name died on his lips as he watched the red silhouette of Ladybug step down from the windowsill of Adrien’s bedroom, disappearing from sight. He swore under his breath, anger and frustration swelling inside of him, the only thing stopping him from transforming was the warmth of Emilie’s hands on his arm, physically holding him back like she-

“Adrien was upset, maybe he called for her.” Nathalie. It was Nathalie clinging to his arm, Nathalie whispering in his ear.

The muscles in his face twitched as he tore his arm out of her hold. He dug his hand inside his blazer, roughly grabbing the kwami that hid inside it and pulling him into the open.

“Listen to what they are saying. Don’t let either of them notice you.”

Nooroo nodded meekly, zipping out of sight without a single word. It was pathetic how easily he’d bent a god to his will, the power so malleable within his hands.

“Gabriel-” Her hand was back on his shoulder, the touch far too familiar and far too wrong. He scowled, shrugging her away as he ducked out of sight of Adrien’s window. He wouldn’t risk exposing himself if Nathalie was correct.

But if Nathalie was wrong, his plan had gone to waste, and he would have to be ready for his final fight with no safety net or bargaining chips to catch him if he failed. If his identity was exposed, if she was here now…

“If she is here for a fight, you are to take Adrien to the Gare du Nord and put him on the next train to London. Should anything go wrong, you must do everything in your power to protect Adrien. If you are arrested you are to follow our agreed plan, understood?”

He didn’t want to lose, he was hesitant to even consider the possibility, but Adrien was still there, still a pawn on the board that could shift the game in either direction, a piece he couldn’t afford to lose, not even for Emilie’s sake.

“Of course, but-”

“But what?” He snapped his head towards her, impatient as Nooroo’s absence dragged out, longer and longer still.

“She’s here, perhaps with completely peaceful intentions. You might not have to fight, there might be a way to end this that doesn’t-”

“Don’t be stupid, Nathalie.” As much as he wanted an amicable end to this fight, one in which he was guaranteed a life with Emilie in his arms, he couldn’t risk giving away the only advantage he might have on the off chance Marinette Dupain-Cheng was willing to grow up and have a nuanced, adult conversation. “We have been fighting that girl for sixteen months now, you know as well as I do that she is far too concerned with her false sense of righteousness to ever surrender.”

“With all due respect,” Nathalie spat back instantly without an ounce of respect to her tone, “she has been fighting a faceless terrorist, not a grieving father. There’s a chance she is willing to find a way to end this without either side truly losing.”

He rolled his eyes, focusing on the dot of purple that was flying back down towards them.

“Perhaps, but that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

Nooroo came to a stop barely a metre from him, the kwami’s eyes lowered to the floor, passive, tamed: a pathetic excuse of a god. He only hoped that Nooroo’s submission was more a product of his instilled training than bad news.

“So?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. He was so, so tired of this girl and her pointless crusade against his family, and if Nooroo let her hurt Adrien… He scowled, flexing his hands in barely restrained frustration.

“Marinette is simply comforting your son, sir. Perhaps you ought to talk to him, he seems so upset-”

“She doesn’t know my identity?”

“I don’t believe so.”

He turned away from Nooroo with a sigh, massaging his temple with his thumbs. She was still oblivious, still stupidly unaware, thank God, but she was in his house, with his son. Far too close for his comfort…

She was in his house.

Which meant the hotel was empty. 

Defenceless.

A smile tugged at his lips, as he began to walk back into the house, Nathalie trailing behind him.

“What now?”

She would never agree to his true plan, not with her sudden ‘holier than thou’ morals…

“Gabriel?”

But she loved him, that much was obvious. So blindly obsessed with him, so willing to warp her own ethics to please him. All it would take was a little… convincing.

“Your idea has some value, Nathalie, perhaps there is a more peaceful way to end this war, one that requires a little less violence.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Her parents were staying with her at the hotel, were they not? I think it’s time we paid them a visit.”

“My beautiful Emilie…”

He loved her so desperately that he would destroy the world if it meant they were reunited. He loved her so desperately that he would throw his humanity aside for the chance to see her again. He loved her so desperately that he would give anything to watch her smile one final time.

“I’m so close now, it won’t be long until we will see each other again.”

She would hate him for it, he knew she would, but he would give up anything, including her love, just to see her breathe and live once more.

“Forgive me, mon amour.”

Chapter Text

“Marinette?”

She’d pulled back sharply, her hands hitting the rooftop with a soft bang that seemed to echo through the metal. There was something conflicted in her expression, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and an uncomfortable weight pulled at his conscience.

Had he done something wrong? She’d kissed him but… but maybe he’d led her on, or pressured her somehow? And hadn’t she been in love with his civilian identity? Had he done something in that hour spent together that had caused her to change her mind? Was she so turned off by his snotty, miserable self that she’d decided to settle for his alter ego, only to realise she was making a mistake?

Was she going to leave him too?

He didn’t know if he could handle losing her.

Maybe it wasn’t healthy, just how much he depended on her to feel okay, but he couldn’t live without her. She was everything to him.

And now-

“Sorry-” Her hands were tight around his, her voice breathless and painted in a million different tones, “I’m sorry.” Her voice came out more steady the second time, still less certain than was usual for Ladybug, but still full of the infinite conviction that Marinette burned with. “We- we can’t do this yet. Not until Hawkmoth is defeated.”

It had been a mistake then. Just a wrong choice made after a day of high emotions and stakes.

“Okay…”

She was going to leave him. 

No- He was being dramatic again. She still needed him to help defeat Hawkmoth, to protect her and her family.

She had told him that she was in love with him, she had told him they couldn’t do this yet .

He needed to trust that she’d meant it.

That he meant something to her.

“I just…” He mentally scolded himself at the sight of her curled up on herself, hand still gripped around his. Regardless of what happened next, whether she stayed or left, he couldn’t let her suffer alone. “Everything’s too… comfortable. It’s been too easy to defeat the akumas, it’s been too easy to- to exist! What if we’re making a mistake? What if Hawkmoth’s watching us right now? What if he’s got something bigger planned and we don’t see it ‘cause we’re too busy being in love with each other-”

“Hey, hey…” He ran his hand across her back, pulling her into his arms. “You’re right, it’s been… easier than we expected, but there’s probably a logical reason, right? We know he knows you, maybe he’s had a change of heart?”

It was wishful thinking, a stupid fantasy that he clung to with every fibre of his being, if only so they wouldn’t have to be hurt any more.

But if they won, or if Hawkmoth gave up, would she still need him?

“I feel like it’s something bigger. He’s planning something, I know it.” 

Marinette was talking again, a rambling slur of words that hung in the air, never quite reaching his ears. 

Because she was right. There had been a sense of foreboding hanging in the air since Sunday, ease and hope dangled in front of them like a carrot on a stick while shadows lurked and shifted on the edge of his periphery.

But what were they meant to do but wait? They knew nothing other than that Hawkmoth might have some connection to Marinette, but even that was nothing more than a vague grasping at straws. She’d been victim to enough akumas that him knowing her name might be nothing more than a consequence of all her friends and family being akumatised.

She’d fallen silent again, shaking slightly in his arms as she lost her grasp on whatever she’d been thinking. He hadn’t registered a word of it, but he knew her better than he knew himself, and he didn’t need to know what she had said to understand the racing conflicts of her mind.

He squeezed her shoulder, forcing any doubts out of his voice as he spoke, “we might not know what he and Mayura are planning, but whatever it is, we’ll beat them like we always do. Our winning streak is hundreds to zero, and we have the whole team this time. There’s no way we can lose this.”

He had to believe it, otherwise-

“It’s not.”

Her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it, heavy with something he didn’t understand.

“Huh?” He prompted, although something about the way she shrunk further in on herself made his stomach twist in foreboding. He’d never really struggled to read her before, always so attuned to the way her brain ticked, her convoluted plans as easy to read from a single glance as they would be if she’d spelled out every letter to him.

He knew that when she was anxious and scared she rambled and panicked, almost hysterical in her fear, and that when she felt helpless and lost she would break down in tears.

This was something else. Something different.

“It’s not hundreds to zero. Hawkmoth won once.”

“ What -”

His stomach wound itself tighter at the silence that followed, the cautious consideration something so foreign to Marinette’s more impulsive nature. “Bunnyx came from the future. She took me to- Someone had been akumatised. Everyone was dead. Everyone , Chat. I was able to fix things but… but there’s still a timeline where we didn’t.”

His blood ran cold at her words. 

Everyone had died . What kind of akuma could have killed everyone ? What kind of future had Marinette seen?

His voice caught in his throat as he tried to speak, and it took more effort than it should have to ask the question he didn’t know that he wanted the answer to. Marinette shouldn’t have to carry this alone, though, and so he asked, “do you want to talk-”

“No. I’m not- It’s too dangerous for y- anyone to know, but it’s not just that.” The familiar rushed pace returned to her voice, sweeping away the uncomfortably subdued tone that had held their conversation, “you’re always throwing yourself into danger and dying and falling victim to the akumas and I know you do it to protect me, Chat, I know, but I can’t do this without you. I can’t fight you again.”

A week ago, he might have responded with a witty joke about having nine lives, or assured her that she needed to be alive to capture the akuma and cast her cure.

A week ago, he’d never had to watch her fall to her death, and fight on praying that the ladybirds would bring her back.

He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “It won’t happen. I’m not going to get hit by any akuma or die or get akumatised or anything . I promise.”

He meant it with his whole heart. He’d sooner turn a cataclysm on himself than hurt her in any way. 

“I should go.” She didn’t make any move to leave his arms, her words void of any real motivation.

He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to voice the weight of his desire to hold her forever, to never have to see her leave again. He could trust her, he could let himself believe her words every time she told him that she loved him, that they would stay together, that she couldn’t bear to lose him, but even that trust couldn’t chase away the ache of loneliness that gripped him every time he watched her go.

They stayed like that a while, neither acting on her words, basking in the light of the moon and the chill of the air and the steady breaths of the other. It might have been minutes or hours, he didn’t care, content to do nothing but cling to her, fending off his fears for as long as she would stay.

“My parents will be worried.” The sudden breeze that filled the space she left as she pushed herself out of his arms cut into his skin, an emptiness he was terrified to admit to. “Come over tomorrow, yeah?”

He nodded, watching as she stepped away, grabbing the yo-yo from around her waist. She hesitated, as if to say something, before swinging away, leaving him with only the cold winter’s air as his company.

He startled as his ring began to beep. It wasn’t as if he’d used his cataclysm, but it wasn’t unheard of for Plagg to decide he was done with Adrien’s wallowing. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but he supposed that he should probably return home before he ended up stranded with no cheese to transform again and no money to find a way home.

He forced himself to his feet, almost buckling back to the floor at the tingling pain of pins and needles that shot up his leg. He hadn’t thought he’d been sitting there that long, but the shooting pains told a different story.

He just hoped that his father or Nathalie wouldn’t find any reason to need to check on him this late, not that they normally did, but after what his father had told him earlier…

It felt like centuries ago that his father had banned him from returning to school, that Marinette had sat with him in his room, the few hours since shrouded in a fog of frantic emotion, the night too eventful to have not spanned weeks.

He shook the thoughts from his head, focusing on the metallic clink of his staff against the cobbles as he began to make his way home.

His house wasn’t far, although he doubted he’d be able to make it all the way around the mansion and into his room before his transformation gave out, but if he could get over the wall he could always sneak in via the staff entrance in the kitchen.

His ring was screaming at him, rapid beeps uncomfortably loud in the quiet of the night as he ran across rooftops, his staff launching him across estates and streets, a routine so cemented in his mind that he barely had to think as he crossed the city.

His transformation dropped a few metres before he hit the concrete of his drive, the impact rippling through him with a sharp stab of pain. It was only years of athletic training and months of fighting monsters that kept him from tumbling to the ground, caught by a pose that only ached a little.

Thankfully, this part of the estate was unobserved by security cameras, so no one but Plagg bore witness to the way his face flushed and eyes watered.

God, he was pathetic.

How could he be so… desperate, clingy, that even when Marinette had kissed him, even when she’d told him that she loved him, he still needed the assurance that she wasn’t going to leave?

How could he have relented to his father so easily that he’d lost all his friends, his whole life, in one conversation?

“Kid…”

He shook his head, brushing away Plagg’s concerns as he began to walk towards the staff entrance. The door hung slightly ajar, and he supposed that their chef had forgotten to close it before she left for the evening.

There was no point in talking about it. 

He was just being dramatic.

“There should be cheese in the fridge. We need to be quick.” The kitchen was stifling when he entered, a cloying stuffiness that made every hair on his body stand on end.

The mansion had always been perfect. That the heating was turned up even a degree too high felt… There was something wrong about it.

“Do you want to talk?”

“Later.” He was probably just being paranoid, but his body was still itching to run. To get back to Marinette. Danger painted every shadow and danced in the periphery of his vision, waiting to pull the rug from beneath him. “Right now there’s just- there’s too much to say.”

Plagg didn’t respond, simply giving him a look Adrien couldn’t quite discern before phasing through the fridge.

A pained shout echoed through the mansion, stomping footsteps growing closer and closer, the door handle pulled down before Adrien even had the chance to process the approaching sound.

He didn’t know why he ducked beneath the counter, or what instinct pulled him into the cupboard, or why his heart was pounding so heavily, foreboding rattling around the cramped box he’d closed himself into.

Perhaps it was simply a consequence of everything that had been building that night, every push and pull and strain on the tenuous calm they’d been clinging to. Or maybe he was being paranoid, startling at every sudden noise.

Either way, as he heard the echoing footsteps grow louder, he knew he couldn’t leave the cage he’d locked himself in, not without earning another lecture from his father about his ‘immaturity’ and ‘dramatics’.

He recognised the heavy breaths that seemed to come from everywhere around him as his father’s, each slap of his leather soles against marble tightening the coil in Adrien’s chest a little tighter, making it a little harder to breathe- the enclosed cupboard seeming to grow smaller with every intake of air.

Why had he locked himself in such a small space? Why had he felt the need to hide in the first place? It wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen, he hadn’t done anything wrong-

Had the tap always run so loudly? Had the sound of water hitting the porcelain of the sink always been so grating and painful ?

The sound of water splashing across skin and marble sounded as though it was being projected through a thousand speakers, his father’s pained hiss echoed more like a shout than an exhale of air.

His pulse screamed even louder, his own breaths resonating all too loudly around the ever shrinking cupboard.

For the past week her mind had been a battlefield: raging, shifting, burning with feelings she couldn’t quite identify, pulled along by the current of her own emotions and fear.

Now she just felt numb. Overwhelmed to the point of silence.

The beat of butterfly wings punctuated each passing moment, a spot of glowing white against the red and gold of the hotel.

Her parents were gone.

Kidnapped.

Her throat felt scratchy and raw, her veins buzzing, fuelled to fight despite the sense of exhaustion and failure and grief that weighed down on her bones, rooting her feet to the spot.

There was something so agonisingly helpless about the way the world crumbled around her, too complete for her brain to comprehend anything beyond the fact that her parents were gone and Hawkmoth had taken them and they were gone and it was all her fault that they weren’t here and if she hadn’t been so careless then maybe they would still be safe and oh God what was the damp stain in the carpet-

“Marinette-”

She shook Tikki off of her shoulder, fixing her gaze on the damp spot on the carpet.

She had never been particularly religious, but she found herself praying to whoever would listen that the patch was nothing more than spilled water or tea.

She didn’t want to touch it and find out.

“Marinette, your parents: they’ll be okay.”

She hoped that they were. That the stain on the carpet would colour her fingers any colour but red if she touched it. 

She knew that it would be stupid for him to hurt them. That it was unlikely he had gone to all this trouble just to hurt her… No. No, he was going to force her to choose, use their safety as leverage to force her to give up her Miraculous.

The taste of bile burnt her throat.

Her parents would be alive, they had to be. Hawkmoth had always seemed more set on whatever his end goal was then vengeance, so he wouldn’t- He wouldn’t hurt them. She needed to believe that he wouldn’t, that he was smart enough to know he could use her parents to get her Miraculous, that they were as safe as they could be in the company of a supervillain.

She couldn’t keep playing on the defensive. She couldn’t let anything happen to them.

She shouldn’t stay here, not knowing it was compromised, but she was done running and hiding. If Hawkmoth wanted her Miraculous, he could come and take them.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have gotten so caught up with Chat that she’d been so distracted she’d let Hawkmoth capture her parents and now she was going to have to choose between the world and her parents and fuck .

She pulled the thick velvet curtains across the glass, letting the deep red of their fabric flood her vision.

She couldn’t afford to worry and spiral, she couldn’t afford to lose control now. Whatever Marinette was feeling was redundant, an obstacle she needed to suppress if Ladybug was going to be able to do her job. She couldn’t get caught up in her feelings again, couldn’t allow herself to be so careless.

A warm flurry of magic brushed her cheek as she moved to the next window, drawing the curtains with a quick scan of the road beneath her. It was empty still, save for the black cat that always seemed to lurk around this part of the city.

“Oh Marinette-”

She shrugged off Tikki’s comfort. She couldn’t afford to feel anything right now. She couldn’t risk letting Hawkmoth win.

“He’s going to make me choose between the Miraculous and my parents.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, far more quiet and tender than she had meant it, raw with the realisation of what she needed to do.

Ladybug had always been a fail-safe, a way to save the world without sacrificing anyone but herself. Her mask had always protected her from the reality of her duty, from the price superheroes on TV always seemed to have to pay.

She’d never truly had to fear for her parents before. She’d never had to face the thought of losing them.

It was a trope old as the heroic tales it painted: forcing the hero to make a choice between the world around them and the people they loved, but it had always been just that, a cliche in stories, something intangible, something impossible.

She could only pray that she would think of some way to outsmart Hawkmoth, to save her parents and the world, to live out the happily ever after she’d been waiting for for so long.

But this wasn’t a story, her life wasn’t some epic action film, and the chances of her winning…

There weren’t words to describe the clawing feeling in her chest, the hollowness of her lungs, the way everything seemed to be slipping away like quicksand beneath her feet. There weren’t words to describe the way it felt to be faced with such a twisted and depressing inevitability, to know that she would have to let her parents die if she wanted to save the world, to look into the future and only see loss and destruction.

How can you call yourself a hero, knowing that you have to sacrifice the people you love for a chance at a brighter future?

How can you call yourself a hero, knowing that you want to let the world burn just to protect the people you love?

There was no way she could do this without watching her hands turn red with blood.

Tikki’s expression was painfully easy to read, a fragile sympathy that did little to hide the expectations in her eyes.

“I know what I have to choose. I just-” She blinked away the wetness in her eyes, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t break the Quantum Masking, she couldn’t do anything . She- “If Fu was here, do you think there would be some way to track them down? Like, a potion or a spell or… I was thinking of the Dog Miraculous but that’s the reverse of what we need.”

Whatever desperate hope she’d had shattered at the shift in Tikki’s expression, and the soft words that followed. “I- I don’t know. Kwamis aren’t allowed to know those things.”

“Right. Right, okay. So there’s no way of breaking through the Masking, no way of tracking down my parents… So I can’t do anything but wait for Hawkmoth to show up again!? That’s fine. I can- I’m Ladybug. This is my whole thing. Just sit tight and wait for the big evil villain to show up and threaten my parents' lives. That’s- ugh!” She slumped against the wall, rubbing her eyes raw with the effort of wiping away the tears threatening to fall. “I can’t- I don’t know if I can do this, Tikki.”

She felt the warmth of Tikki’s magic against her skin, the tiny paws of her kwami stroking back the hair in her face with a soft smile.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Marinette.”

Alya ran her hands through her hair, shaking her curls in an attempt to capture half of the volume they had when she was transformed. It was seriously unfair that no amount of styling was ever able to make her hair that thick and-

Her phone chirped, the familiar motif of one of the Majestia TV series echoing around her room. It was probably one of the girls asking when she was arriving with Marinette, the party they’d been planning all week a glimmer of joy in the otherwise depressing state of affairs.

Rose had almost slipped up earlier, but she doubted Marinette had noticed.

After everything that had happened, Marinette deserved-

Her phone was vibrating rather aggressively now, the spam of messages now replaced by a steady ringing. She sighed, letting her hair fall flat as she went to answer it.

Her stomach dropped at the sight of Sabine’s name flashing across the screen.

Why was Sabine- No, she didn’t have time to question it, silently praying that Sabine was only calling to check up on the plans for later, and not actually phoning with an emergency.

Marinette’s breathless voice shattered any hope that it might have been good news.

“Alya? Has- Is there any sign of Hawkmoth or akumas or anything at all?”

“No? Is everything alright? What’s-”

“Hawkmoth was here.” No. The world lurched around her, bile rising in her throat. If Hawkmoth was there, if Marinette was-  “My parents are- they’re gone. He-”

“Marinette-” She was going to be sick. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Because how else would Hawkmoth have gotten to Tom and Sabine? How else could he have kidnapped them if Marinette was in the next room? How-

“I was at Adrien’s.” That didn’t help to settle any of the nausea in her stomach. Why had she gone to Adrien’s? Had people seen her- “And then with Chat- I’m fine but I don’t-” Marinette’s breath was heavy and slow, deliberate. She knew Marinette, and she knew Ladybug, and she knew that something had switched in her friend’s mind, something that had driven away her panic and left only an unbreakable determination. “He has my parents Alya. We can’t keep playing on the defensive, but as it is, he has so many advantages against us. We need to find out who he is.”

She wanted to protest that they’d been trying, that there was no way that they could find Hawkmoth in one night, not after he’d spent months evading any kind of detection. But Marinette’s parents’ lives were on the line - Marinette’s life was in direct danger - and there was nothing in this world that could stop her from tearing away Hawkmoth’s mask, if that’s what Marinette asked her to do. No amount of magical bullshit could protect someone who’d hurt her friend.

“I’ll do whatever I can. Please- Please be safe, okay?”

“You too.” It was an empty promise: Marinette wasn’t allowed to keep herself safe, as much as it broke her heart to know the sacrifices she had to make, and with her parents lives at stake and Hawkmoth holding every card…

Marinette’s body, bloodied and mauled at the foot of the Tower, blood dripping down Alya’s hands, the dead cold weight in her arms as she ran to the bakery, her friend’s body laid across her chaise-

“I love you, Marinette.” She wouldn’t let this be the last time she said those words, she wouldn’t let Marinette make that sacrifice again.

The phone let out a low beep in response, the call ending without any reassurance.

It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let Marinette get hurt again.

Alya grabbed a scrap piece of paper from her desk, accepting the pen Trixx passed to her. She didn’t know how to break past the quantum masking, but she needed to get as far as she could before it started interfering.

“Trixx, can you use my phone to find out if anyone spotted Ladybug or Chat Noir out in the open this evening?” She nudged her phone across her desk as she scribbled down everything she knew about Hawkmoth, every point they’d discussed, and-

“Unless you have one of those pen thingy-ma-bobs for me to tap the screen with, not really. Technology doesn’t like to acknowledge us kwamis~” Anger flared in her chest. Trixx knew where the stylus was, they knew how to use her phone so why would they cause problems when there was so much-

There was a mischievous glint in their eyes when she spun around to face the kwami, an eyebrow raised as if waiting for the pieces to snap together in Alya’s mind.

Technology doesn’t like to acknowledge us.

That had to mean something, a hint on how to break the quantum mask, she just wasn’t sure exactly how. After all, Ladybug and Chat Noir had always shown up on videos and photos, so surely someone would have run some kind of facial recognition software and-

Marinette never even thought about Chat Noir’s identity. They’d spoken about it a handful of times, and apparently the thought would slip her mind the second she began thinking about it. What if the rest of the world was thinking about identities in the same way? What if people were just being forced to drop the idea before they had the chance to run the program? 

And even if they did, it wasn’t like Marinette was famous - or at least, she hadn’t been before Sunday - sure, she’d appeared a handful of times on TV and her blog, but surely that wouldn’t have been enough for any software to identify her even if it had been run?

She squealed, glancing at the social media feed Trixx had pulled up. There was nothing on Ladybug running around Paris tonight, not a single mention from random uses or tabloid pages reporting on the heroine being spotted…

She knew Marinette would have been too careful to be seen, but the confirmation that no one on the internet knew she’d been out and about meant that Hawkmoth had to have seen her himself, which meant she’d narrowed down the thousands of potential places he might live to a handful of estates in 4e.

She just needed to find a way to stop the quantum masking from keeping her from the truth, to stop the magic from understanding what exactly she was trying to uncover until she’d found a way to run her query.

The only problem was that most software and internet searches would only show her celebrities, and there weren’t any clear, high quality photos of Hawkmoth on the internet for her to begin her search with. No, she’d have to do it based on the facts, on the list of criteria she’d scribbled down.

She glanced at the list, it was sparse, with only three definite points, but it was enough, it had to be.

After all, how many people did Marinette know that lived on that side of the arrondissement? Only a handful of their classmates lived in that area, and how many of their parents would have an alibi for attacks? She just needed-

Markov . She snatched her phone back from Trixx, scrolling until she found Max’ number. She was never going to be able to put together a database of everyone Marinette knew if the quantum masking was so intent on interfering, but Markov already had that information, he’d be able to run the query for her without the slightest issue.

She hesitated before hitting the icon to dial Max, turning to Trixx. “Will I be able to ask Markov to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity?”

Just because she was close didn’t mean she had forgotten how thorough the quantum masking seemed to be in withholding the truth from her, and she couldn’t risk losing Marinette and her parents to some stubborn magical concept.

Trixx only shrugged, which did little to encourage her as she pressed ‘call’.

“Hello, Al-” She cut him off. There wasn’t time for small talk and conversation, not with how much was at stake.

“Max, I need you to run something with Markov for me.” She inhaled deeply, continuing in the clearest voice she possibly could, not willing to let a single misunderstanding interfere with her mission, “I need a list of every adult man Marinette knows who lives between the Hôtel de Ville and the Agreste Manor who doesn’t have a solid alibi for akuma attacks.”

There was silence filled only with the static buzz of her phone and the sound of her own heartbeat in her ear. She needed this to work, she needed to find out who Hawkmoth was. For Marinette.

Her heart sank when Max finally responded, a growl vibrating through her throat at the implications that followed it. “Sorry, the signal was faulty for a moment there. What did you say?”

She ended the call, tossing her phone onto the bed with a shout.

She was so close to discovering the truth, so close to saving Marinette’s parents, and she was not going to let the universe keep her from helping her friend.

“Trixx, transform me.”

“What the fuck , Gabriel?” The shout caught him off guard, his shock halting the aching tightness in his chest for a moment, he’d never heard Nathalie so much as raise her voice before, let alone swear.

He almost missed his father’s response through the screech of the tap and the pounding of his own heart. Almost, because he somehow managed to catch the bitter mumble his father let out. “She threw a kettle at me.”

She? His father didn’t talk to anyone other than Nathalie, so unless she had thrown a fucking kettle at his father - which was the least Nathalie-thing Nathalie could have done - what was he-

“I thought we’d agreed that was too far!” The sound of people moving, of someone crashing against the wooden cupboard doors, of grunts and huffs of pain, before his father’s voice spoke up again, more strained than it had been a moment before, reverberating through the walls Adrien was pressed up against as if he was pressed right up against the counter-top. “You were meant to be negotiating for a truce!”

“I never said I was aiming for a truce, you and I both know that’s futile.” Adrien barely had a moment to process what exactly they were talking about before Nathalie shouted again, her voice dripping with more venom than Adrien thought she was capable of feeling.

“You said my idea had merit-”

“It did, but Mlle.Dupain-Cheng will need more encouragement to hear me out-”

Marinette? What did his father want from Marinette? Why-

“What about Adrien? If the city is destroyed-”

No. No, it couldn’t be- His father wasn’t-

“What will it matter tomorrow, Nathalie? When I have their miraculous-”

Their miraculous. His father was- 

“And if you don’t win? If Adrien is caught in the crossfire?”

The walls were shrinking closer and closer, he couldn’t- he couldn’t breathe-

“Are you doubting me, Nathalie?”

His father couldn’t- No, his father couldn’t be- He couldn’t- He wasn’t-

There was the sound of movement again, of feet shuffling away, but Adrien felt even more trapped than he had before, his lungs completely closed off, his heart twisting tighter and tighter and tighter- 

Alya dropped her transformation, stepping out of the alleyway she’d landed in and making her way to the banks of the Seine. Juleka’s home was dark and quiet in a way that felt uncanny, so different from the usual life and chaos it radiated.

But they’d wanted to be discreet tonight, careful to avoid any attention.

They’d been planning the party for Marinette all week, a secret gathering to give her a chance to see her friends again, away from the prying eyes of the press and Hawkmoth. Rose had almost spoiled the surprise earlier, after she’d been deakumatised, but with everything that had happened, Alya doubted Marinette had picked up on the slip.

It didn’t matter either way, they had more important things to do.

She felt Trixx shift inside her coat, a comforting presence against her side as she stepped onto the plank of wood connecting the houseboat to the bank of the Seine, a familiar queasy feeling stirring in her stomach as she left the stability of the pavement behind.

There was a sense of finality that met her on the deck of the boat, an acknowledgement that if her plan worked, nothing would ever be the same again. Either they would defeat Hawkmoth, and the fragile status quo that had been erected in the wake of his attacks would crumble, and the people of Paris would have to navigate a new way of life; or they would lose, and nothing would ever-

She shouldn’t think like that. Marinette needed her positivity, her optimism, if she crumbled too…

No, she had to believe that they would win, that everything would be over and the world would be changed for the better, that their future was solid and safe.

The boat creaked beneath her feet, the muffled sound of music and chatter permeating through the cabin door. She hesitated before the handle, doubt holding her back from walking in and facing her friends.

Alya had always thought Marinette a trusting person, but Ladybug had always been so devoted to secrecy, so reluctant to disclose anything more than was necessary. Would she want the class to know? Would she trust them to protect the secrets she kept so closely hidden?

Marinette had certainly trusted their friends with her secrets, with her crush and her embarrassing moments and her feelings. But Ladybug had always been a secret wrapped in lies and excuses and everything Marinette hated, a secret too important to be shared.

But the whole world knew she was Ladybug - Hawkmoth knew she was Ladybug - and now her parents were in danger.

Did any of their secrets really matter any more, when there was so much to lose in keeping them?

No, their friends needed to be safe. Whatever Hawkmoth was planning, he clearly wasn’t intending to pull any punches, and if he’d kidnapped Marinette’s parents…

She might have idolised Ladybug, looked up to the superheroine as some perfect, superhuman leader, but she knew Marinette, she knew when her friend was being stubborn, and she wouldn’t let her friend’s paranoia get in the way of what was right.

Not that she blamed Marinette, it was perfectly fair for her to be so anxious, but that girl needed to trust people more.

She pushed open the door to the cabin, entering the room with fierce determination fuelling every step. She wasn’t going to let any amount of magic or doubt hold her back from helping Marinette.

The chatter stopped as her classmates turned to her, a new wave of conversation beginning, asking where Marinette was, why Alya had come alone. She caught Nino’s eye at the back of the room, Chloé was sitting beside him, admiring her nails, but Alya could see the slight crease in her eyebrows, the way her blue eyes kept darting in Alya’s direction.

They hadn’t spoken since that morning, a tender kind of tension between them at the revelation of the life Chloé had lived behind closed doors. She didn’t really know how to approach her, how to align the insecure child with the bitch Chloé had always been to her.

It didn’t matter right now. She could figure out whatever weird relationship she had with Chloé Bourgeois after Hawkmoth had been defeated.

“Chloé, Nino. Marinette needs you at the hotel.”

She hadn’t realised how sharp her voice could sound until silence once again blanketed the room. It didn’t matter, if she needed to be sharp and bossy to protect Marinette then so be it.

“Why?” Chloé’s voice was soft, which should have been more jarring, but knowing everything she knew now…

She shook the thought away. “She… Hawkmoth found her parents.”

That was all Chloé and Nino needed to run, Chloé transforming immediately and dragging Nino with her past Alya and out the door. She might have thought it rude if she wasn’t so grateful that Chloé was protecting Marinette.

Nino caught her gaze, a million questions written between his creased brow and parted lips, but she shook her head, mouthing ‘soon’ as Chloé whisked him away to Marinette’s side.

Her friends were talking over each other again, Rose had burst into tears, Juleka quietly soothing her. Alix was ranting, face scrunched up in a concentrated anger, Kim fuelled by the same anger beside them.

Panic swelled in her chest, the same new unease that she had started to feel after Sunday tightening its grip on her throat as she tried to speak. If they got akumatised, especially when Hawkmoth seemed to be upping the stakes…

She needed to be a leader, to take control while Marinette was out of the picture. She was the assistant class rep, Rena Rouge, the creator of the Ladyblog, and there was no way she was going to let Marinette down, not when she needed every bit of help she could get.

Alya was the middle child, but with a sister so much older than her that she was rarely around, it had always been Alya’s job to look after the twins, and she knew how to put her own feelings aside, how to smile and be brave in the face of spiders and strange noises in the house - if only to comfort her sisters.

This was no different, she decided as she took a breath, schooling her expression into the calmest thing she could muster in the face of everything. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but knowing Hawkmoth, it won’t be pretty. Marinette hasn’t said anything but…” Secret identities be damned, she needed them to listen to her, to protect themselves, and while she had no doubt they would listen to Alya, the word of a superhero was always a lot more persuasive. And she was kinda sick and tired of secrets. “But as Rena Rouge I wanted to tell you all that it might be a good idea to get out of Paris until this is over.”

She let her words hang in the air for a moment, half listening to the sudden rush of questions and concerns, half numb under the weight of it all as she scanned the room for Max.

There was no sight of him.

Every single one of their classmates, sans their superhero team, was here, crammed into the tiny cabin of the houseboat. Everyone except Max .

Shit.

“Where’s Max?”

The universe had to be playing some kind of sick joke on her, right? The quantum masking breaking free of the derailed thoughts and wisps of understanding it had once been, instead screwing up phone signals and apparently erasing Max from existence right when she needed him-

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t actually gone -gone, right? Surely the quantum masking wouldn’t go that-

“He went out to find you, something about a faulty phone signal…?”

“I saw the news about Ladybug. Mlle.Dupain-Cheng is in your class, isn’t she?”

“Kid-”

He couldn’t breath, couldn’t register anything beyond the tightness of his chest and crushing walls of the cupboard and the fact that-

“Adrien. You need to get to Marinette.”

“No-” He shook his head, as if the frantic motion would convey the mess of thoughts in his head. “He doesn’t- I should-”

“You can’t fight him alone. Please.” He’d never heard Plagg so desperate, so uncertain.

Then again, he’d never been so completely fractured before, never faced stakes as high as these.

“He might- I’m his son , surely-” Surely he would stop, surely his father loved him enough, surely-

“As long as Hawkmoth is around anyone associated with Ladybug is at risk.”

Did that include him? Would his father really hurt him, put him at risk?

Could he really believe that he wouldn’t?

Plagg’s paws settled on his cheeks, wiping away tears he hadn’t realised he’d shed, bright green eyes locked on his.

“Adrien, please . We need to go to Marinette.”

The uncomfortable shooting pains of her feet slamming against the pavement did little to deter her as she ran in the direction the class had directed her, her chest wheezing with exertion.

She was only a road away from her house, Max had to be nearby. 

She slammed into someone as she turned the corner, cursing as she stumbled to the floor. She couldn’t afford to waste a single moment, not while Marinette’s parents were in danger, not when the Quantum Masking could ruin her chances yet again.

“Alya?”

She almost sobbed with relief at the sight of him, his afro catching the golden light of the street light behind him in a halo, a sure sign from whatever gods existed that she was going to find Hawkmoth.

“Is Markov with you?”

The robot zipped out from behind Max as she scrambled to her feet.

“Markov, I need a list of every adult man Marinette knows who lives between the Hôtel de Ville and the Agreste Manor who doesn’t have a solid alibi for akuma attacks.”

“While I do not have a comprehensive list of every person Marinette knows, from the data I do have only Gabriel Agreste fits that criteria.”

Gabriel Agreste.

Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth .

Chapter Text

He couldn’t move; couldn’t breathe.

It was as if his brain had frozen, a static loop of shock warding off the wave of emotions he should be feeling.

His father was Hawkmoth.

Should he really be surprised?

“Adrien, Kid? It’s not safe here.” He knew Plagg was right, but he couldn’t fail Marinette, he couldn’t let his father have the upper hand now, not when they finally had a chance to beat him.

“I need- I need to know what they’re planning.”

He shifted, moving to open the door before Plagg flew in front of him, “Are you insane? We need to leave!”

“Just- Just five minutes, Plagg.”

He listened closely to the taping of soles against marble, to the muffled voices echoing from the foyer. His breath caught as he pushed open the door, terrified that he might have been mistaken, that his father would be standing over the sink, leering down at him, or that the soft sound of the cupboard opening would alert his father or Nathalie to his presence.

The kitchen was empty, exactly as it should have been this late at night, save for the water splashed across the floor and sink.

It was unsettling just how normal the room was, given how much his world had shifted and slipped from beneath him.

He didn’t know that his heart could beat so loudly, or that his breaths could echo so heavily around him. He swallowed, terrified that the sounds might carry through the closed door of the kitchen and draw attention.

He couldn’t be caught now.

He couldn’t fail Marinette.

He crept towards the door, praying that the sound of his footsteps wouldn’t permeate the almost soundproof room. It made sense now why his father insisted on such intense means of privacy, why their house was designed to allow as much to go unheard as possible.

“-really think I would endanger Emilie’s son like that?”

Emilie’s son. As if he wasn’t his father’s son too, as if he was only worth anything to his father because of his mum.

“You have kept him here in Paris for far too long. If you honestly wanted to protect him, you would have sent him to Amilie before you began all of this!” He’d never heard Nathalie so angry, so passionate. It almost convinced him this was all some kind of sick dream, so far from what could ever transpire in reality.

“You’re right.” It wasn't a dream though. His father was Hawkmoth, he had terrorised Paris for years, threatened the lives of his friends, he’d-

“When does the next train to London depart?” Shit. He couldn’t leave Paris, he couldn’t let Marinette face his father alone, but it wasn’t as if his father would give him any choice.

He couldn’t stand up to him. He couldn’t fight back. He’d failed every single time before, why would this time be any different? He wanted to scream and rage and beg his father to stop, to give up, but his body stayed frozen, his voice caught in the dry hollow of his throat, unable to do anything but listen as his world shattered around him.

“The first train tomorrow leaves at quarter past seven.”

“Good. Ensure he is on that train, we cannot delay a moment longer than necessary.”

He needed to go to Marinette.

“Alya?” She met Max’ eyes, stumbling to find a single response.

Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth.

It made sense, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in the same way they had when she’d discovered Marinette’s identity, but there was a part of her that didn’t want to believe it, that had always envisioned Hawkmoth as some complete stranger, someone unimportant, that they could fight without consequence.

But he was Adrien’s dad, and there was no way Adrien wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.

Marinette wouldn’t be able to hurt Adrien like that, she loved him too much to send his whole world crashing down, and with her parents at stake, they couldn’t afford to hesitate.

They couldn’t do this alone, not when Marinette had too much to lose to be reasonable.  “Markov, can you run a list of every guy between fifteen and sixteen that Marinette knows that has no alibi for akuma attacks.”

She had no real proof that he knew Marinette beyond the few hints he’d dropped, but she knew in her gut that he did, that it was more than a coincidence that he’d known her name well enough for it to be instinct,  

“Again, I do not have a comprehensive list of every person Marinette knows, however from the data I do have only Adrien Agreste fits that criteria.”

She wanted to deny it, wanted to find a million excuses as to why it couldn’t be Adrien, but she couldn’t, the truth snapping into clarity just as it had with Nino and Marinette and Gabriel Agreste.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

“Adrien? What are you trying to find, Alya?” She startled at Max’ voice, staring at him for a moment without being able to summon a single word to her lips, only one thought circling around her head, leaving no room to process anything else.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

God, how did Marinette do this? How was she able to come up with plans and strategize when the whole world seemed to be collapsing around her?

She needed to focus. She could worry about the implications of everything later, but while Marinette’s parents were gone and Adrien was probably still at home with his father and Hawkmoth’s plans seemed to be building into something worse than anything they’d seen before, she needed to make sure her friends and family were safe.

“You need to get back to the boat, make sure everyone we know is out of Paris ASAP”

Max seemed to hesitate for a moment, turning to Markov, before nodding, and it took every bit of resolve within her not to let out a sigh of relief. “We’re on it. Good luck, Alya.”

“You too.”

She watched Max begin to sprint away, Markov hovering behind him.

She had no idea how that had worked, why the Quantum Masking had allowed her to do that. That was a mystery for later, for now she needed to get back to Marinette, and warn Adrien to get away from his father as quickly as possible.

She let out a sharp, near hysteric, laugh. What kind of sick reality was this, where Adrien was Chat Noir and his father was Hawkmoth and Marinette’s parents were kidnapped?

Another time, she might have laughed at t he irony of Adrien being Chat Noir, and the insane love triangle he and Marinette had created for themselves, but right now she couldn’t let that be more than a passing thought, not when so much was at stake.

Although once all of this shit was over, she was absolutely going to do something about their endless stupidity. There was no way the Adrienette ship was going to die now.

She clicked on Adrien’s number as she began to run towards the hotel. She’d transform, but then she’d only be able to contact Adrien if he was transformed, and she had no way of knowing if that was the case.

Her phone rang for several long seconds, before Adrien’s voice sounded through the line, a breathless whisper that set off alarm bells in her head. “Alya? You, Nino and Chloé need to get to Le Grand Paris ASAP.”

She wanted to ask if he was okay, but they didn’t have time. If he’d answered the phone, he probably wasn’t in any immediate danger.

Probably.

She couldn’t think about that possibility, she had to focus on the goal at hand.

“They’re already on their way, but you need to get out of your house.” She’d have to pass the Agreste Manor to get to the hotel, perhaps she should stop by as Rena Rouge and make sure he was okay.

“I know.” He hissed back, and she prayed that he was only trying to stay quiet to keep his father or Nathalie from knowing he was on the phone so late, as opposed to the millions of other possibilities.

Although the fact that he’d responded the way he had didn’t give her much reassurance. If he knew that he needed to leave…

“Adrien, your father-”

“I know, Alya.” He cut her off sharply, and she was terrified that his voice might have broken its hushed whisper and put him in danger. “Let me tell Marinette myself.”

“Okay.”

The call ended, and she stood for a moment on the random street corner she’d ended up on, the weight of everything sinking into her with a force she struggled to bear. She’d never been particularly religious, but she found herself silently praying to whatever god would hear her that everything would be okay.

She didn’t know what else to do, not when everything seemed so stacked against them.

Nino glanced at the phone as it buzzed, a message from Alya displayed on the screen.

God. He needed- He didn’t even know what. Maybe just for someone to pinch him and wake him up from whatever insane nightmare this was.

Alya: It’s Adrien’s dad.

There weren’t many things that that could mean, and given the current context…

Nino: does he know

Fuck knows Adrien didn’t deserve that, although he wasn’t surprised. Gabriel Agreste had always been the biggest dick known to man.

Alya: Yes

Alya: Let him tell Marinette

Marinette, who was currently staring intently at her hands, who looked more like the shy, anxious girl he knew than Ladybug as she ignored Chloé’s attempt to comfort her.

She couldn’t be there for Adrien right now, not while she was so clearly on the edge of a breakdown herself. But that was okay, because he was here, and Alya would be soon, and the two of them would help their friends.

He was just grateful that Chat Noir would be separate enough from it all that he would be able to provide some kind of clarity. God knows the rest of them were too clouded by emotion right now to think straight.

He didn’t understand the doubt that followed the thought through his mind. Chat Noir wasn’t involved with this, not on a personal level, right?

Something hit the balcony outside, and he felt his muscles tense up, the call to transform waiting on his tongue for the second any danger revealed itself.

The tension didn’t subside when Chat Noir appeared in the door, eyes red and puffy, mask and cheeks damp.

An uncomfortable feeling grew inside him, something biting at the back of his mind. He couldn’t put a voice to it, couldn't pinpoint why his blood ran cold with some kind of realisation, but something, deep inside his mind, understood.

“Chat! Oh my God- Shit, is everything okay?” Marinette ran over to him, cupping her hands around his cheeks.

“It’s my father he’s-” No. He was just- It was a coincidence- “I mean he’s never been great but I didn’t think- oh shit I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Nino couldn’t move, frozen as he watched Chat Noir push himself away from the doorway, reaching for the back of the sofa as if he was actually about to throw up.

He was going insane.

“Chat Noir what-”

There was no way that he was Chat Noir, no way that the universe was that fucked up.

“He’s Hawkmoth. My father, he’s-”

There was a flash of green, it crackled through the air around them, unlike the more fluid form his own transformation took.

He barely noticed that though. Fixed on the unmasked face of Chat Noir, every moment of distant, blurry recognition snapping into a horrifyingly clear picture.

“Adrien?”

She didn’t know what else to say beyond his name, how to even begin to process the fact that Chat Noir was Adrien and Adrien was Chat Noir and that his father was Hawkmoth and that her parents were gone and that-

“Shit. Shit. Holy fuck, dude, are you okay? …Never mind, that’s a stupid question, obviously you’re not, but… do you want to talk about it?”

She silently thanked Nino for somehow breaking through his shock, because her own mind seemed to have committed to simply gaping at Adrien as a million thoughts rushed through her mind.

Is this how they’d all felt, when they’d discovered her identity?

“He’s my father. I don’t know how to begin to deal with that because my father is a terrorist. And you know what the worst part is? I shouldn’t be surprised. I know I shouldn’t. I want my denial to be… y’know, justified? But it isn’t! He treated me awfully, he’s not- he’s not a good dad. He’s not a good person. He’s never been there for me! So I should have noticed before, right? And if I can’t accept it, then am I just as bad? I still love him. I love the person who’s hurt me and my friends and everyone!”

Part of her wanted to scream, to cry that he had kidnapped her parents, terrorised the city for years, thrown Adrien off the Montparnasse- She didn’t understand how he could still love his father after that, how that could be anything other than unforgivable.

But Adrien didn’t deserve that, it wasn’t as if it was anything other than a symptom of him being too kind, too good.

“Adrien, it’s- it’s okay. It’s a lot to process and um…” She winced. She’d never been good with words, and with her mind a mess of conflicted emotions and terror, she had no idea what to say. “You’re not a bad person, I promise.”

“And dude, you're probably the best of all of us.” Nino had crossed the room at some point, and wrapped his arms around Adrien, awkwardly trying to fit around where she was still clinging to him, and once again she found herself thanking him for putting words to the whirlwind of thoughts in her own mind. “The fact that you can love someone who’s been as much of a dick as your dad just proves what a good guy you are.”

“He’s hurt me so much. Why do I still love him?”

She hesitated- she’d never loved someone who was truly evil, she’d never even loved someone who had betrayed her like that. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know how to comfort him. He was always so good with words, always able to help her piece herself back together, and she hated that she couldn’t do the same for him.

She glanced over to Chloé, who was probably the only person in the room that could understand him right now, but she was still sitting on the bed, eyes locked on Adrien as if he were a ghost.

Nino looked just as lost as she felt, tentatively rubbing Adrien’s shoulder in the absence of any words.

“I don’t know, but you’re not wrong for feeling like that. I promise you, you are allowed to have complicated feelings towards him, and if you want to sit this fight out-”

“No.” Adrien cut her off, his voice full of drive and determination that sounded out of place in this persona. “No, I promised you that we would do this together, and I won’t break that promise.”

He sounded so much like Chat, it was… weird. It shouldn’t be, she shouldn’t be so thrown off by the fact that Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person, right? He was her friend, and her best friend, and the boy she’d kissed, so she should know every side of him like the back of her hand.

But she didn’t. She didn’t know him like she’d thought, barely recognised the boy in front of her.

That didn’t matter now, not when there was so much fear in his eyes, not when her parents were at stake.

There was a part of her, a small, selfish part of her, that wished he would leave, sit out of this final battle. Her parents were kidnapped by his father, their lives a bartering chip for their Miraculous, and she couldn’t let any amount of love or empathy distract her from finding a way to outsmart Hawkmoth.

It was too much to ask of him anyway, to demand he fight his own father.

“I- Adrien… The others are here, they can help. I don’t want to ask you to fight him.”

Something hardened in his expression, something that resembled the blue eyes branded into her memories, an angry determination that made her want to recoil. “He’s evil, Marinette. He’s Hawkmoth.”

“He’s also your dad-” Her voice was almost pleading. She’d never known the true reason he had been akumatised, been told nothing beyond the allegations that their love had destroyed the world; but she’d never seen an anger like that in him, not after a single one of her rejections, not after she’d pulled away from him barely an hour ago.

She couldn’t have- If Hawkmoth had been his father the whole time…

“And he treated me like shit. If I don’t do this… I need to face him. I need that closure. I can’t-”

There was something about Chat Noir that had always seemed indestructible. There was something about Adrien that had always seemed so vulnerable. Seeing him now, as one person, not two, there was a constant flickering in her mind between the implicit trust that she and Chat shared, and the anxious friendship that she and Adrien had.

She wanted to tell him to leave, to protect him from everything that could hurt him.

But she couldn’t do this without him. She didn’t know how.

“Okay.”

Alya was careful to mask her movements across the city. She wondered if it could be classed as paranoia when a very real supervillain was planning an attack against your best friend.

She didn’t bother being discrete as she arrived on the balcony outside of Marinette’s room. Hawkmoth had already shown his hand: he knew where they were, and he’d know they were expecting an ambush. Better to let him think that they were all there together, overly prepared for what might happen next, than letting him believe that Marinette was vulnerable and alone and prompt him to attack.

When she entered the room, Adrien, Nino and Marinette were huddled around each other, tense until they recognised her and relaxed again into their group hug. Chloé was sat awkwardly to the side, looking more lost than Alya had ever seen her.

Marinette looked as if she were about to say something, unwinding herself from Adrien’s arms.

“I know. Don’t worry.” It wasn’t worth reliving the night’s events. Marinette’s expression softened slightly, a look of relief shaping her features before they hardened again, Ladybug’s signature determination painting her face.

“We need a plan.”

Adrien shifted beside her, though he didn’t extract himself from Nino’s arms. “My father, he’s sending me to London. I’m meant to be on the first train tomorrow morning. I’m assuming he’ll attack as soon as he can after that.”

She couldn’t quite describe the feeling as relief, but something washed over the group at the reassurance that they still had time.

There was something horrifying about it as well, knowing that whatever Gabriel Agreste was planning, it was going to be worse than anything they’d seen before.

“He wants you to get to safety before he attacks?” Adrien nodded in response to Marinette, and a silence fell over the room as they each began to plot.

Alya pulled out her phone, ignoring the spam of messages from Nora and her mum and dad. She knew it took the train about two hours to get to London, but Gabriel Agreste would probably jump on the first opportunity to attack. She opened up Google, scrolling through her search results until she finally found an English website that gave her the answer she wanted. Her English was rough, but she understood enough to come up with an answer. “The train will be out of Paris by quarter to eight at the latest.”

“Nathalie will be waking me up at half six to take me to the station.” They had around six hours to prepare before they had to put some sort of plan into action. That was long enough, surely?

She glanced around the room, looking at the bags beneath each of her friend’s eyes, the exhaustion that seemed to cling to them all.

It had been a long day, and they weren’t exactly going to get the luxury of sleep, knowing what Gabriel was planning.

“Okay. Okay, Adrien and Alya will go back to Adrien’s at six, Adrien, you’ll pretend to go along with everything, and Alya will cover you as Rena Rouge. When you get to the Gare du Nord, pretend to go to the toilet, where Alya will create an illusion of you to board the train and you’ll transform to return here.”

A part of her wanted to suggest that Adrien go missing, forcing Gabriel to delay his plans, but then again, they couldn’t exactly count on him caring about his son enough for that to stop him.

“Chloé, Nino, I need the two of you to begin an emergency evacuation of Paris, start in the centre and work your way out but do not let Gabriel Agreste or Nathalie find out about it.”

“Max has already started getting our friends and families out of the city.” She’d also sent Nora a message, and she had no doubt that her older sister would have gotten their family out of Paris by now. She glanced down at her phone, hesitating before she turned her phone off, not wanting to face the messages her family had sent, demanding that she leaves the city with them.

She’d always wanted to be a superhero, but the reality of what she’d signed up for, of what she had to be willing to sacrifice, hadn’t registered until she’d sent that final message to her family, knowing that she might never get the chance to see them again.

“Good, make sure everyone is out of Paris as soon as possible. Then at quarter past seven, we’ll meet at- I’ll message you the address, which should give us half an hour before Hawkmoth begins his attack.” She met Marinette’s eyes, fixating on the way her blue irises flitted and shifted under her gaze. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint how she was able to read the self-sacrificing apathy in her friend’s expression, or if she was just so familiar with Marinette that she knew her friend would be careless with her own life if it meant saving someone else.

She was about to say something when Chloé spoke up, “maybe it isn’t a good idea for you to be here alone, I mean he knows where you are.”

Alya glanced towards Chloé, trying to catch her eye, but she was staring too intently at Marinette to notice. She didn’t exactly like Chloé, and even after the akuma earlier, she didn’t understand her, but there was a protective streak, a loyalty, and against all odds, she found herself trusting Chloé.

Alya couldn’t exactly protect Marinette with this plan, but Chloé could, and-

“Wait- How does he know?” She’d thought Marinette had told him, that Adrien knew the reason the stakes were suddenly so high. Clearly, she’d been wrong.

Marinette’s mouth opened and closed without a sound for a moment, as if she were trying to find the words to explain what had happened. “My parents. He- He took them.”

Adrien was silent for a moment, his expression shifting through a million different emotions.

“We’ll get them back. I promise you. I won’t let my father win.”

Chapter Text

INTERLUDE THREE: Memories

Adrien’s bare feet were cold against the marble floor, the soft taps of his steps echoing through the hall.

The sound of his maman coughing broke the silence of the night.

He curled into himself, chewing on his lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. His maman had been sick for a while now, but that didn’t make the guttural sound of her retching and coughing any easier to hear.

He carried on creeping closer to her and his papa’s bedroom. He wasn’t allowed inside any more- his papa said he would disturb his maman’s rest- but being away from her made him feel dizzy and sick and bad and he just wanted to give his maman a hug.

He could hear his papa inside, saying something he couldn’t quite make out from the other side of the door.

He squeezed the cat teddy his maman had made for him to his chest, shuffling his feet as he looked up at the big door. His papa said he was too old for the toy now, but he was too scared to let it go, not when his maman was shut away behind the door, not when he couldn’t hug her himself any more.

His papa’s voice was louder now, it almost sounded like he was crying, but grown-ups didn’t cry, did they? Why was his papa-

Something shattered in the room, loud, hurting Adrien’s ears as he stumbled over his feet, backing up against the banister, scared of what was happening inside his maman’s room and scared to leave.

Something bad was happening.

He didn’t know how long he cuddled his teddy, wiping his tears and snot into its fur, before his father’s voice became too quiet to hear again.

The door handle began to move, but Adrien stayed frozen before it, knowing he shouldn’t be here but not wanting to leave his maman when she was sick and his papa when he was sad.

His papa stepped out onto the landing, his eyes all red and sad and it made Adrien’s heart feel all tight and wrong, seeing his papa - a grown-up - cry. It made him cry harder.

“Adrien…”

“When is maman waking up?”

He didn’t understand why she hadn’t woken up yet. His papa hadn’t even been in her room all week. He had said she’d gone to sleep for a long time, but it had already been a week. Surely that was long enough?

His papa didn’t answer, only huffing at him to stay still as he buttoned up the itchy shirt he’d been forced to wear today.

“Why don’t you see maman any more? What if she gets hungry while she’s asleep?”

He was always hungry when he woke up in the morning, and maman was so sick… if his papa didn’t bring her meals up to her any more then she wouldn’t get any better. She always said that he needed to eat when he was sick.

His papa ignored him again, and he began to feel annoyed.

He hadn’t been able to see his maman in so long and he missed her. He just wanted her to give him a hug and promise that she would feel better soon.

“When will she be better?”

Adrien flinched as his papa pulled harshly at the collar of his shirt. It didn’t hurt, but there was something so scary about the way his papa was acting, all angry and upset and he didn’t understand why-

“Maman is dead, Adrien. She’s not going to wake up.”

“-velocity is the maximum speed achieved by an object falling freely through a gas or a liquid, where the resultant force is zero. The two main forces acting on the object are-”

Nathalie always spoke so slowly, all emotionless and boring, and Adrien missed the way his maman had spoken with so much energy and life.

Something twisted in his chest, an emptiness he was far too familiar with that somehow always pulled in a way that felt new. A constant ache he could never really adjust to.

Everything had changed. Where his maman had been bright and happy and loud, Nathalie was cold, flat, collected; where the giant canvas he and his maman and his papa had painted in an afternoon of chaos and colour once hung, there was now a portrait of greys and blacks; where his maman would sing and laugh all day, only the steady ticking of the grandfather clock echoed through the mansion.

It was like any trace of his maman had vanished, replaced with sterile silences and monochromatic walls.

Even his papa was different: short and angry and quiet.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his maman back and his papa to be normal and his house to be colourful and he wanted to go home.

Which was silly, he was sitting in his dining room, listening to Nathalie’s lecture.

But he couldn’t describe it any other way.

He just wanted to go home.

“Ugh there’s this utterly annoying girl in my class, Adri-chou!”

Chloé draped herself across his sofa, sighing dramatically, her long hair splayed out around her head. Her hair had been darker the last time he’d seen her, having gradually shifted from the platinum blonde it had been when they were kids to a darker, more golden colour.

Now it was almost white with bleach.

Chloé had changed recently. She’d always been more blunt and bossy than he had, but recently she’d just been mean, saying horrible things to Nathalie and the Gorilla and talking badly about everyone behind their backs.

But this was Chloé, his only friend. Surely she didn’t mean it. After all, he’d upset his father after his mother had died, and he wasn’t a bad person, right?

He listened to her talk about the girl, only half paying attention as he stared out the window, watching a pigeon fly from roof to roof.

He wanted to go to school.

Chloé complained about it all the time, but she at least got to hang out with people her own age and play It and Pretend at break time and go to fancy dress parties for all the kids in her class and have fun lessons instead of droning lectures.

It wasn’t fair that he had to stay here on his own, when she didn’t even like school and got to hang out with so many people.

He’d asked his father if he could go to school with Chloé, but he had just scoffed and told Adrien that he was an Agreste, as if that were any kind of real answer.

He didn’t want to be an Agreste if it meant he had to stay locked up in the house on his own.

His father was gone again, across the world on another one of his trips.

He felt bad for feeling happy about it.

When his father was away, Nathalie was left in charge, and she was always a lot more lenient, letting him see Chloé more often and sometimes arranging experiments for him to do in his lessons, rather than just reading from textbooks.

He still wasn’t allowed off the estate though, the looming walls of the garden and front drive keeping him locked in.

His maman had never let him leave on his own either, but then she’d often taken him to Chloé’s hotel, or to England to visit Félix, or occasionally to watch her on the set of her films.

His father and mother had both said it was for his own safety, that he remained inside the mansion, but even with the endless games and books and toys he was given, nothing stopped him feeling bored, all the time, and when he’d complained to his father, he’d only been given more classes to do.

At least his maman had always gone out of her way to spend time with him. His father barely ever ate dinner with him.

“M’lady?”

Her gaze didn’t leave the sky, she didn’t move an inch from where they lay, limbs tangled together on some random rooftop, watching the stars. A low hum left her lips, it would have been inaudible anywhere else, but tucked away in the quiet, residential area they often found solace in, it echoed through the night.

“What’s your family like?”

Two months ago, he would never have dared to ask, but time had passed since their first patrol, when they’d spent the night awkwardly dancing around each other, unsure where the boundaries of professionalism and friendship lay.

Now though? She was his friend. His best friend (and he silently apologised to Nino). Being her was just so comfortable, so peaceful, and she made him feel like himself in a way he never really had before.

“Small,” her answers were always short, always vague, “and loving. That's the only way I can think to describe it.”

For some reason, he hadn’t expected that second part. Maybe he was projecting, and he felt guilty at the thought. His father loved him, he was wrong to doubt that.

“Yours?”

He hesitated for a moment - he didn’t know how to describe the emptiness of his house, or the absence of his father, or the disappearance of his mother, in a way that didn’t feel traitorous.

They had been close once, the three of them. It would be wrong of him to speak badly about them.

“The same.”

For some reason, it felt like a lie when he said it.

Chapter Text

The ticking of the clock echoed. Each second hesitated. One. Then passed with callous drive. Two.

It had been hours. Three . Just sitting. Four. Waiting. Five.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand to watch the second hand take each pendulum swing past its mark, rewinding back to hit the moment it marked.

She’d only been here ten minutes.

She shifted, the wall behind her pressing uncomfortably into her shoulder blades, the hoodie she wore of little comfort. She’d pulled over the mat from the centre of the room, and it protected her from the wooden floor at least, but the sparking shots of pins and needles up her legs was a worse kind of torture.

Adrien and Alya would be at the mansion now. Chloé and Nino at the city hall.

This was it. Their final stand against Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste. Adrien’s Father. It was too late to go back now, to change their plan. And yet…

She was giving him time. She was sitting here, running her fingers along a loose thread of her jumper, watching the hands of Master Fu’s clock stagnate for an eternity between each passing second, while Gabriel Agreste had her name, her parents, every advantage and bit of leverage over her, and she had nothing. Sure, she knew who he was now, but even that- Adrien, Chat Noir, was competent, he could fight, but against his own father? He’d be unpredictable, emotional. Could she really trust him to stick to the plan? Was it fair for her to drag him with her, just because she was scared to take responsibility for her mistakes? To force Alya and Nino and Chloé to risk their lives?

Tikki looked up at her as she scowled, a reproving look on her tiny face. “You have to trust them, Marinette.”

She slumped back against the wall, ignoring the way her body protested the motion.

“I know.”

---

The conference room was ornate in a way that put Le Grand Paris to shame. Chloé had made herself at home in city hall since the moment her father had been elected, but it still felt imposing. Especially now, sitting in front of a bunch of irritated politicians who had been dragged from their houses at five o’clock in the morning, about to tell them that today might be the end of the world.

Her father was flushed, apologising to their audience as he introduced her to them. She bit the inside of her lip, trying desperately not to scowl. God, was it so hard for him to trust her for once? To have faith that she was more than some stuck-up brat?

“Uh, Chloé? Perhaps you’d like to let our guests know why you- we’ve called them here?” She shot him a glare as she stood.

“We need to evacuate Paris. Hawkmoth has kidnapped Dupain-Cheng- Ladybug’s- parents, and we have reason to believe he’s planning something big. Something she might not be able to fix.”

Some twat she recognised from the news- probably something to do with the army or police or something- rolled his eyes. “With all due respect, Mlle.Bourgeois, Hawkmoth attacks all the time. We will warn parisians-”

“With all due respect ,” she spat, “Hawkmoth has never had this much of an advantage, or attacked without an akuma. I have faith in Marinette,” she would have cringed at the realisation had she been anywhere else. After everything, she really did trust the girl. Sort of. “but her parents' lives are being used as leverage, and she is the most vulnerable she’s ever been. We will win this, but it will be a lot easier if we don’t also have to worry about keeping everyone in Paris safe. You will evacuate the city, or we’ll take this into our own hands.” They were anyway. Nino should be working with Max now, coordinating with transport companies to get as many people out of 4 e as possible, but that was beside the point. 

A pause fell over the room, too stagnant to give her any hope. Fucking politicians. “Are you really willing to risk your seats for this? If Paris burns down because you did nothing to protect it then you can wave your positions goodbye.”

“What arrondissements need to be cleared?”

---

Adrien was Chat Noir. Fucking hell he was going to explode. And then punch Gabriel Agreste in his stupid face.

He could feel his entire being literally vibrating with it, a constant shaking in every muscle that he was surprised Max hadn’t commented on. Or maybe he had and Nino just hadn’t heard it. Either way, he couldn’t make it stop.

They had two hours. Two hours, max.

Fuck, they were going to die.

Max was typing something into the computer, lines of green on black reflecting on his glasses as Nino paced. He and Alya had filmed a PSA earlier, she’d used her power to make sure Paris heard Ladybug in her place. It had seemed amazing an hour ago, but now that it was about to be published…

What if people freaked out? Or started screaming in the streets and alerted Gabriel?

“What if this all goes to shit?”

Max didn’t look up from his computer, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the keyboard, almost loud enough to mask the quiver in his voice. “We’ve already cleared Gabriel Agreste’s estate. Statistically the chances of this information getting back to him is low, and with the network we’ve spent the night establishing a calm evacuation is more than probable.”

He was right. They’d spent too many hours now getting every relative and friend of everyone they could trust, building a network that stretched across the first eight arrondissements of people to guide an evacuation. Max had contacted every bus company in Paris, organised routes to transport people out of the centre of the city.

It was almost terrifying how well connected Max seemed to be. But then again, the past two years had made people a little more eager to help each other out, to fight back, to protect Marinette . 

It still didn’t seem right that she was Ladybug, or that Adrien was Chat Noir. Or that any of this was real.

His phone buzzed. A message from Chloé.

This was it, the beginning of the end. God, he wanted to be sick.

“Chloé says we’re good to go live.”

Max nodded, the rapid sound of tapping abruptly ended with one final click.

“Good morning, Paris.”

---

Alya sat on the upper level of Adrien’s room, tapping her necklace anxiously as she waited for Nathalie to come and whisk Adrien away. He was sitting on his bed, ready to feign sleep as soon as Trixx came back to let them know Nathalie was on her way.

It was only then that it occurred to her that none of them had slept since before the press conference. It was crazy to think that that was barely twenty-four hours ago, with all that had happened over the past day.

Marinette’s identity had been revealed exactly a week ago, almost to the minute. In just a week, everything had changed, the world had shifted and fractured in so many ways, and now here they were, at the end.

They’d win today. They had to.

It was weird to think that in a few hours, one way or another, this would all be over. Even if she wasn’t a full time hero in the way Marinette and Adrien were, it seemed insane to imagine a version of the city free from Hawkmoth. There was something almost terrifying about the prospect of normalcy.

It didn’t help that they were separated. Sure, there wouldn’t be any real danger until Adrien had left the city, but she wished they could all be together, that they could come up with any other plan that didn’t involve them being split up across the city. They could have ambushed Gabriel Agreste while he slept, snatched away the butterfly miraculous before he had a chance to process what was happening, but Marinette was allergic to simplicity, and Alya had faith in whatever convoluted plan she was following.

Which meant she could do nothing now but wait, praying that Marinette would be okay.

“Alya?” She shuffled forward to lean over the glass bannister, looking down at where Adrien and Plagg were sprawled across the bed.

His voice was barely a whisper, they didn’t want Nathalie, or worse, Gabriel, hearing them. “Did Marinette tell you that she kissed me?”

It was as if her brain had suddenly come to a screeching halt, all the anxiety and worry that was building inside her hesitated by the words that she must have misheard because what the actual fuck -

Fuck, she might die in a couple of hours, this could be it, her last day on Earth, but here she was, listening to Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir . talk about how her best friend. Ladybug . had kissed him.

There was something so surreal about it all, and she almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure this wasn’t some insane dream.

“Before… Before I found out about my father, we were on a roof together and she kissed me. Like, Chat Noir me. I thought she was in love with Adrien but she kissed Chat Noir? And told me that she loved me - Chat Noir? Should I invite her on a date? What should I do for it? You’re her best friend, what’s like, her dream date?”

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scream her congratulations or punch Marinette in the face, maybe both. She had spent years trying to get her friend to confess her feelings, coming up with plan after plan to get Marinette to ask out Adrien, only for her to apparently make out with Chat Noir at the worst possible time. Marinette was undeniably in love with Adrien, both sides of him, but there was something so… odd? about it.

Marinette was anything but impulsive, especially when it came to her feelings.

She couldn’t process it now, couldn’t even begin to understand what had happened or what it meant. She could interrogate Marinette about it later, when they won.

“Dude, respectfully, I think we have bigger problems right now.”

“I know! I know, but… It’s easier to worry about something else, you know? If I think about my dad being Hawkmoth too much then… Where should I take Marinette out?”

“I-” They’d spoken about this, at length. Marinette was absolutely infatuated with Adrien, of course she’d explained in-depth how she wanted their first date to go. Many times. There were variations, a million and one different scenarios depending on the day, but there was one constant to all of them: “I think she wants something romantic, personal. She won’t care where, but take her for like, a candlelit dinner, or a picnic in a park or something like that. But honestly, Adrien, so long as you’re there, you could take her to the tip and she’d be happy.”

“I did actually take her for a candlelit picnic once, on a rooftop. Well, I invited Ladybug but she never showed, and then I saw Marinette and we spoke about how we’d both had our hearts broken, and then I brought her to see it. Then Glaciator attacked. Ladybug came after the akuma as well…”

Okay, she was absolutely going to punch Marinette after this was over. She’d thought that she’d uncovered so much about Marinette and her double life over the past week, but apparently there were some details she hadn’t bothered to share.

She grinned down at Adrien. If everything went okay today, the two of them were going to get their happily ever after, and the three kids and a hamster Marinette had always dreamed of.

“I refuse to die today, Adrien, because I am not letting Marinette get away with not telling me this shit, oh my God ! But yeah, no, just pull some sappy shit like that again and you’ll be set.”

“Thanks, Alya.”

Quiet fell between them again, and she shifted away from the edge of the balcony, trying to suppress the surge of anxiety that followed the end of their conversation.

It would all be okay. They were going to win.

She had to believe that, had to trust that everything was going to be okay. If she didn’t…

No, heroes didn’t fail. They couldn’t. There was no comic where the villain won, where the heroes gave up. There was no akuma that had gone undefeated, that hadn’t bowed to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s power. What reason did she have to start doubting them now? Just because they’d found out Hawkmoth’s identity didn’t mean their odds had worsened, if anything they had an advantage they’d never had before, and while Gabriel Agreste was powerful and scary as fuck, he was also just some rich white dude who couldn’t even cook for himself. No amount of superpowers would give him a chance against the five of them.

Still, that horrible feeling that something was wrong ate away at her, a growing sense of mistrust in Marinette’s resolve to actually let anyone in, to let them help her.

How many times over the past week had she promised to accept the help of others, to not shoulder this all alone, only to go back on herself the second anything went wrong? And with her parents held hostage she didn’t know if she could trust Marinette to keep her word.

Chloé had promised to watch out for her, but it had been an hour since they’d all parted ways at the hotel and-

“Nathalie’s coming.”

Trixx’ voice floated up from the lower level, and she heard Adrien scramble to tuck himself into bed. Her kwami floated up to her, nuzzling against her cheek in a final, reassuring motion, before Alya whispered her transformation phrase.

There was something in the suit that made her heart steady itself, a wave of confidence following the brush of magic against her skin. They could do this. It was going to be okay.

---

She could go now. Catch Gabriel off-guard. Attack first instead of waiting for whatever he was planning.

It would spare Adrien the pain of having to fight his dad. Keep her friends safe. Stop him before he had a chance to hurt her parents.

She’d promised the other’s she would do this with them.

---

Wang Fu arrived to swarms of people being shepherded onto trains and buses and trams, a mad panic as people rushed out of the city in any way they could.

He’d been right to come back, Paris had never been evacuated for Hawkmoth before.

He’d managed to slip off the train before the police had had the chance to confine it’s passengers and send them back out of the city, but he had no chance of getting out of the station with so many officers around. Perhaps if he could get to the toilets, he could call on Kalki’s power to escape that way, but forcing himself through a crowd of frantic people was a mission he was barely fit for in his old age, and with so many officials disrupting his movements-

“Are you okay, monsieur?” Fu startled at the warm hand on his shoulder that trapped him in place, his heart only calming when he looked up to meet a pair of familiar green eyes.

There was something bitter in his expression, but there was no time for him to dwell on that, not with such a dire situation hanging over them.

“Perhaps you might be able to help me find a quieter place to rest, young man.” Adrien nodded, glancing over his shoulder to a woman with tightly pulled back hair and a polished blazer- an attire that felt out of place among the hoards of people dressed in pyjamas or hastily put together outfits. She brushed the elbow of a larger man at her side, pointing him in their direction as Adrien began to manoeuvre them through the crowd.

The boy he’d chosen was smart, though, and managed to lose their pursuers in the swarm of people, eventually managing to guide them into an empty toilet at the end of the platform.

Adrien pressed his back against the door, preventing anyone else from entering. Plagg shot out of his pocket, watching Fu with a scowl that he probably deserved. The kwami had never liked the Guardians much, and had made his resentment for Fu losing the Peacock and Butterfly quite clear.

“Hawkmoth’s my father. He kidnapped Marinette’s parents. He’s planning an attack for the second I leave the city.” Adrien’s voice was cold, sharper than Fu remembered.

His eyes flickered to the silver ring on Adrien’s finger, stomach twisting with unease.

He’d sworn he wouldn’t make another mistake, he’d sworn he would never let another Miraculous be lost. If he was Hawkmoth’s son…

He’d come here to help Marinette, but there were others who could protect her. It wouldn’t be smart to leave the Cat Miraculous so carelessly within Hawkmoth’s reach, especially not with the leverage he had over Marinette and-

“We’ve got a plan, but if you can help… Marinette is at your parlour. We need to get there as soon as we can.”

He wanted to help them, he desperately did, but he was the Guardian of the Mother Box, and he couldn’t forget that. If Marinette’s parents were being used as blackmail then the situation was more dire than he’d thought. No, he couldn’t go to them yet.

“Hawkmoth cannot win, Adrien.” 

The boy scrunched up his nose, and, Kwami, he looked so young. “I know that. But we-”

“I will ensure her parents are okay, but I cannot help you right now.”

Adrien scowled, “of course not.”

Fu barely had time to process his words before he had transformed and escaped through the window, gone.

He couldn’t help them, not in the way they wanted, but he had a duty to the Miraculous and the children he had forced them on.

---

She watched as Adrien and Fu began to weave through the crowd, discreetly casting an illusion as she spotted Nathalie stalking them through the maze of people, letting them disappear.

She didn’t like Fu, she barely trusted him, but Adrien could hold his own, and Fu seemed to be set on doing whatever it took to reclaim the butterfly, or at least, that’s what he said, so for now Alya could settle for a cautious alliance.

Whatever it took to keep Paris safe.

Nathalie and Gorilla seemed set on finding Adrien, undeterred by the evacuation that was gradually building around them. Good. The longer Nathalie spent here, the less chance of her aiding Gabriel.

She let her illusion shift, ghosts of Adrien Agreste appearing and dissipating around Nathalie, leading her off and away from the real Adrien.

She couldn’t let Nathalie out of her sight, couldn’t risk her slipping away and joining the fight, but the station was growing more and more frantic, filled with more people than it could take. Police lined the edge of the platform, holding back the crowds, but people were desperate, flinging themselves onto the train, surging forward in waves that would result in deaths the miraculous wouldn’t be able to reverse.

She’d thought, naively, that people would be calm, that Parisians were familiar enough with the protocol to act rationally. But then again, telling the city that there was a chance this attack would be worse than anything they’d ever seen was bound to cause panic.

She dropped her transformation, not caring if anyone saw her. If this failed, then what would it matter? And if they won…

Trixx was quick, eating the whole stalk of grapes in a moment. They looked about to say something, but Alya couldn’t deal with that right now. If she let herself be vulnerable for even a moment she might break.

Her transformation wasn’t as comforting this time, but she couldn’t dwell on that. The soft melody of her flute echoed through the station, copies of herself positioned themselves through the crowd, her voice drowning out the chaos below.

“People of Paris, I know you’re scared, but please follow the instructions of the police and officials around you. This evacuation is a precaution, and we will guarantee that you all reach safety.”

She let out a sigh as people began to calm down, forming queues and listening to the police around them. 

---

“Chat Noir.” He spun around to face Mayura. Nathalie .

But she was at the station, she was looking for-

Oh . His eyes caught sight of a keychain in her hand. She’d sent a sentimonster to replace her.

Somehow her betrayal hurt more, knowing how much she had done for him, how much she had cared, all while helping his father hurt his friends, hurt him .

“Nathalie.” His voice came out biting, dripping with a bitterness he hadn’t realised he held. He was scared and betrayed, undoubtedly, but angry? It was never a word he used to describe himself, and yet meeting her eyes he felt a burning, bitter tension in every muscle, his teeth pressed so tightly together it hurt.

Her eyes widened, save for last night, he’d never seen her so expressive. “You know who I am?”

“I guess you really are sans-coeur , huh?”

“How mature.”

“Says the one terrorising the city for her boss. Word of advice, he’s really hung up on his wife, so move on.” Guilt gripped his stomach. His mother didn’t deserve to be forgotten, she should be the centre of their lives, but he couldn’t help the part of him that wished he could hold some of that importance to his father, that he and Nathalie might actually celebrate his mother, mourn her with him, instead of pushing him away, leaving him to carry that grief alone.

“ Don’t talk about her .”

“Why not? Feeling guilty?” He scowled. How many times had he been told not to talk about his mother? How long had her name felt taboo in her own home? How many years had he spent holding her memory to himself, unable to talk about her to the only other people who truly knew her?

“I will not allow some immature child to insult her memory.”

“Some people would say terrorising the city while trying to hook up with her husband is a bit of an insult to her memory, but that’s neither here nor there.” There was something pumping through his veins, a malicious resentment he’d never realised he held.

“Just give up your miraculous so we can bring her back.” His resolve faltered. He knew that had to be the reason, he knew there was nothing else his father cared enough about to terrorise the city for, and yet it wasn’t until Nathalie spoke that it fully registered what it was he was fighting against.

He wanted her back. More than anything.

“And let someone else die in her place? Are you insane?” But he couldn’t let that happen. He had to let her go.

“Her son needs-”

He barely registered the motion as his fist swung towards her face.

“Adrien Agreste needs a father, and maybe some therapy, not for his guardians to commit terrorism in his name.” He rammed his stick into her side, though he felt the impact of it in his own gut, a swirling, stabbing regret that reverberated with the attack.

“Don’t act like you know him.”

“I know him better than you ever will.” She didn’t know anything about him, hadn’t even bothered to see him off in person.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

She grabbed his arm, tugging him across the rooftop. He only faltered for a moment, whipping round to face her with a scowl.

“I actually thought you cared. I really thought you loved me.”

She stared him down with a cold, unflinching glare. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” he scoffed, ducking as she used her fan to slice the space he’d just filled, retaliating by sweeping her legs, knocking her to the ground.

“All this time, I thought I could trust you!” He pinned her to the metal of the roof, tossing her fan aside. “I thought you’d make father happy! I thought you’d help us move on!”

Her eyes widened. He didn’t care. It shouldn’t matter that it’s him beneath the mask and not a stranger, it shouldn’t matter that he was the one with wet cheeks and red eyes, reaching for her miraculous. If she really loved him, if she really wanted to protect him, she wouldn’t have done any of this in the first place.

Her brooch was hot between his fingers, a different kind of feeling to his ring, but magical still.

“I thought we would be a family.”

She put up no fight as he tugged it from her chest, simply turning her head away

“But I guess I was wrong.”

The blue drained from her skin, the soft down of her costume becoming her familiar blazer. He glared down at her, scowling when she wouldn’t meet his eyes. After everything, she couldn’t even own up to it, still hiding behind a mask of indifference.

He snatched the keychain from her hand, cataclysmed the feather that escaped it.

“Adrien. Please- Please be safe.” He glared at Nathalie. 

“So now you care?”

Something in her face softened, and his stomach lurched in turn. He shouldn’t be so mean to her, she had tried, maybe- maybe he was just being dramatic.

“I’ve always cared. If I’d known it was you-” He couldn’t- He could deal with his feelings later, with all the apologies and broken promises, once they were all safe.

He summoned a cataclysm, felt the brooch disintegrate between his fingers. It would be restored later, when they defeated his father, but keeping it on him, or hiding it, was a risk he couldn’t take. If it got lost or stolen during the fight…

He couldn’t keep doing this. If it didn’t end today, he didn’t know how to keep fighting, to give the rest of his life fighting faceless monsters.

He couldn’t put Marinette through that again.

Nathalie didn’t protest as he scooped her up, bringing her down to the pavement below.

“Give me your phone, and anything you can contact my father with.” She didn’t argue, just placed her phone and watch into his hands. 

His ring wasn’t beeping, the familiar drain of power hadn’t begun. “Cataclysm.”

They disintegrated, ash in the wind.

It was ironic that now he was considered to be mature enough to access his adult power, to be able to use multiple cataclysms before his transformation waned. He should have been excited, finally free of the limitations of the miraculous, but now he just felt cold, ice in his veins as he realised what he could do. What he had to do.

“When this is over, you’ll hand yourself in.” She nodded, her face completely void of anything. She had hurt him so much, hurt his friends, hurt everyone, but she was still Nathalie, still the woman who had raised him after his mother died, still the woman who had fought his father for the small freedoms he was permitted.

He softened, “stay safe, please?”

“You too, Adrien.”

---

There was a strange, almost dissociated look about the world as she walked through the streets of Paris, hoodie pulled shut over her head, eyes locked on the floor.

If anyone recognised her, she was screwed.

She didn’t feel like her parents had just been kidnapped. Or like the war she’d been fighting was about to be over, one way or another. There was something so… mundane, about walking through the city, about to confront a man who had the power to destroy everyone and everything she loved.

Tikki was quiet. She’d protested at first, telling Marinette to wait, to follow the original plan, but when she’d realised Marinette wasn’t going to change her mind, she’d fallen silent.

She couldn’t afford to have the others involved in all of this, she couldn’t ask them to risk their lives for her mistakes. She’d been the one to leave her parents alone, she’d been the one to lose focus, kissing Chat Noir, she’d been the one to drop her yo-yo, to fall from the Eiffel Tower, to reveal her identity to the world. She was the one who had to fix it.

She hadn’t been planning on deserting the plan, on going back on her promise but… She’d been sat in Master Fu’s parlour, watching the clock tick forwards, sitting, waiting, doing nothing as her parents were-

She didn’t want to think about what could be happening to her parents.

Besides, while Adrien was still in the city, what could he really do? She was so, so sick of playing defence, of waiting around to be hurt, for the people around her to suffer, never actually making progress because she couldn’t do anything but wait. Now she had an advantage, she knew who he was, what he wanted. She couldn’t throw it away.

The gates of the Agreste Manor began to creak open, and she ducked into an alley before she could be spotted. A limo drove out, and from the flicker of orange across the rooftops, she was certain that it was Adrien and Nathalie in the backseat, driving off to the station.

She couldn’t make Adrien face his father, no matter how terrified she was to do this alone.

She didn’t know how much time passed, her body frozen in the darkness of the alley, the reality of what she was about to do finally hitting her, wringing out her stomach with nauseating anxiety.

She wouldn’t transform yet. There was a chance Gabriel Agreste wouldn’t know why she had come, he wouldn’t know she’d figured him out. And she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. If the others figured out what she was doing…

She crossed the road, not bothering to wait for the traffic lights to turn as she dodged between cars. If she stayed put for too long people might see her face, and she couldn’t afford that right now.

The buzzer was cold to the touch, tiny crystals of ice coating the metal plate. It was still dark, and the January air was biting against her cheeks. For a moment she worried that Gabriel Agreste might still be in bed, and her whole plan would be foiled by her nemesis’s sleep schedule.

The camera shot out of the wall though, a creepy eye glaring her down, and she didn’t wait to be questioned to start rambling. “Hi! It’s, uh, Marinette. I know it’s early but I really need to speak with Adrien? Please?”

It was a decent excuse, she thought. Gabriel would know that her parents were missing, obviously, and he’d have no idea that she’d spent the last five hours in the hotel with Adrien. It wasn’t that difficult to believe she’d want the comfort of her friend after everything Gabriel had done the night before.

The gate creaked open without a word from Gabriel, and she didn’t waste a second slipping through it and onto the driveway.

She pulled down her hood as she approached the door, which was already open, inviting her into her enemy’s home.

There was still a chill in the air when she stepped inside, white and black marble shrouded in the dark. If she’d been in any other situation she might have laughed, because there was no way that the multi-millionaire Gabriel Agreste didn’t heat his home, which meant that all of this, the cold, the dark, was part of some cliché villain setup.

An uncomfortable weight trailed over the skin of her back. Had he been expecting her, then? How long had he known she was coming? How much did he know?

The door slammed behind her, shutters and locks clicking and crashing in a reverberating echo. Something moved, shifted, footsteps getting closer and closer.

“Hello, Ladybug.” She scrambled away from voice, ignoring the way his words burned her ear with their touch, a whisper against her skin that told her he was close, too close. How hadn’t she realised he was right there, behind her?

She was in the middle of the room now, praying he didn’t see the way her body shook as the lights flickered on, revealing his looming, transformed form, blocking the door.

Gabriel Agreste had always been intimidatingly tall. His transformation only made him that much more terrifying.

“M.Agreste.” She’d hoped that he would falter, that the knowledge that she knew who he was would cause him to retreat, or fumble, or something so that she might have the upper hand.

Instead, he bared his teeth in a smile, a small chuckle echoing around the room. He didn’t move from the door, but she found herself shrinking back all the same. “It’s good to meet you properly, Marinette.”

A shiver ran through her at the normalcy of his words, the guise of polite conversation uncomfortably juxtaposed with the situation they were in. “Where are my parents?”

“Not even a hello? That’s quite impolite-”

“Impolite? You kidnapped my parents! Let them go!”

“Of course, I’m hardly a monster, Marinette. Once you hand over your earrings, I will return your parents to you.”

She glanced towards Tikki, who’s expression was apologetic as she shook her head. She couldn’t- How was she meant to choose between saving the world and saving her parents? She couldn’t let her parents get hurt, she couldn’t let them suffer like that, but she couldn’t let Gabriel destroy the world-

She’d known this would be the ultimatum, her parents held as a bargaining chip for the goal Hawkmoth had been fighting for years. She knew what she had to do.

A wave of self-loathing ate at her resolve, the aching grief of losing her parents almost made her turn back, give up. She whispered a silent apology to her parents, choking on a sob at the realisation that she didn’t have a choice. She’d never had a choice.

Ladybug had to save the world, no matter what it cost Marinette.

“Never.”

She didn’t understand why he hadn’t just taken advantage of his proximity to her earlier, why he had gone to the lengths of this twisted negotiation knowing it was always going to end with her fighting back? It was unnerving, just how difficult it was to predict his movements. He’d always seemed so impulsive, but now…

“Do you really think you can win this?”

“I won’t give up until I do.” She pressed her back against the wall (when had she moved from the centre of the room?), fixing her gaze back on Hawkmoth, who was watching her with a mixture of pity and predation, standing at his full height only a few metres away. She felt her foot slide back, heel hitting the skirting board: her body reflectively trying to back away, like a prey animal caught in a trap.

“How noble, sacrificing yourself so Paris will be safe.” He took a step towards her, slow and carefully refined. It was terrifying. Akumas were impulsive and careless, they didn’t think things through, barely tamed monsters at the end of Hawkmoth’s leash- but Gabriel Agreste was smart. He never showed up unless he held all the cards, unless there was no conceivable way he could lose.

She’d beat him on Heroes Day, but she hadn’t been alone then, and now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get out of here alive. She didn’t know what Gabriel was willing to do to claim her Miraculous.

“It’s not a sacrifice if I win.” She forced her voice to stay as steady as possible, forced her body to stop trembling, forced herself into a defensive stance.

She wasn’t going to fail. Not again.

Gabriel laughed, and she swallowed back the urge to scream for help. She had to do this alone, she couldn’t hurt the others like that, couldn’t force them to sacrifice themselves for her. “I can feel your fear, Marinette ,” she hated the way her name sounded from his mouth, condescending and cruel, “there’s no point in pretending you have a chance.”

Logically, she knew he was right. She knew there was no chance she could hold off Hawkmoth by herself- for all her experience, she was just a fifteen-year-old girl, and he was an adult twice her height. For all she knew there could be an akuma hidden in the room, or Mayura waiting to strike, there was no reasonable way she could win this.

“Tikki, transform me.”

But then again, Ladybug had never really been bound by the laws of logic and reason.

Chapter Text

The meeting room was strangely mundane for the reason they were there. Yvonne had always found it jarring to discuss national security and the lives of innocent people in an office that stank uncomfortably of coffee and could just as well hold a meeting about stocks.

She lay her attention on the mayor of Paris and his bumbling explanation about his support of teenage vigilantes. God, whoever elected him was a fool. “Thank you, M.Bourgeois. Your daughter’s help has meant we were able to begin the evacuation before everything escalated.” 

“It’s concerning though, that she insisted on keeping ‘Hawkmoth’s’ identity secret.” If she could fire Pierre-Antoine, she would do it in an instance. He was a bitter, sniveling, old man who rarely contributed anything useful. How he was the Direction Générale de l'Armement she had no clue.

“Well, we are working with teenagers here.” 

She fixed Jean-Yves with a glare. “We aren’t working with them. God, the EU and UN are already pestering us about them being child soldiers.”

They were right, and she’d spent the last week issuing statements denouncing the heroes, now that Ladybug was known to be a child. Honestly, she hadn’t cared much about the heroes before, but the optics of a teenager fighting a domestic terrorist weren’t good.

“I’ve authorised the movement of the military into Paris, aiding both the evacuation and subjugation of ‘Hawkmoth.’” Jean-Yves, was, at the very least, a decent Ministre des Armées. Had she been left alone with Mayor Bourgeois and Pierre she might have gone insane.

“Good. The first four arrondissements are of course the priority, but it would be wise to begin evacuating the sixth, seventh and eighth soon.” She wished someone else would step up and take this job out of her hands. The interior ministry was stressful enough to run without a domestic terrorist and underage vigilantes running the capital to the ground. 

“Of course, and if we encounter the vigilantes?”

“As far as the law is concerned, they are civilian children and should be evacuated as such. The French Government will not be responsible for allowing teenagers to endanger their lives in acts of vigilante justice.”

Adrien’s footsteps echoed softly through the worn floorboards of Master Fu’s parlour. Plagg was oddly quiet, for once. Maybe he was just as exhausted as Adrien. Maybe he knew better than to push when he was so on edge.

Nathalie was Mayura. 

Nathalie had betrayed him.

It hurt more than his father’s secret.

He couldn’t think about it right now. In a few hours, this would all be over, and he’d be free to feel all the anger and sorrow and loss that ghosted his mind. For now, though, he needed to focus, to follow Marinette’s plan.

A feeling settled in his stomach before he had even turned the knob of the door to Master Fu’s studio. Apprehension. Foreboding.

It was quiet. Silent. An absence of sound that was so antithetical to Marinette’s existence.

He knew, somehow, before the door gave way to the emptiness of the room, what he would find. He wished, in spite of it, that for once she would prove him wrong.

She wasn’t there.

No sign of a struggle either, the whole place heavy with a staleness that suggested no one had been there in a while, the air cold and glittering with dust in the warm light of sunrise, nothing but a torn piece of paper left in the centre of the room suggested that she’d been here at all.

He didn’t want to read it. He didn’t want to confirm his worst fears. 

The note was scrawled, hasty. He could barely process it through the cloud of sheer terror that buzzed beneath his skin, biting through every sinew of his being. He didn’t have to. He knew what she’d done.

He knew Marinette, he knew her better than he knew himself. He should have known she would do this, that she wouldn’t have waited for them to confront his father, that she’d lied.

Somehow, through all the anxiety that clouded his mind, a stab of betrayal hit him. She’d lied. She hadn’t trusted him.

Again.

It didn’t matter - it couldn’t - not when she was with his father, not when her parents’ lives were on the line.

Gabriel Agreste’s laugh was grating, sharp.

“Did you want a fight, Marinette? You’re a child, you’re alone, why suffer when you can just give in now? I don’t have to hurt you.” He took a step towards her, and she fumbled for her yo-yo. It would be useless at such a close range, but there was something reassuring about the feel of it in her hand, the knowledge that all its magic was right there at her fingertips.

“And let you destroy the world? Are you insane?” She wouldn’t let him win. She couldn’t. She would keep fighting, even if it cost her everything.

“Who said anything about destroying the world?”

White. Blue. Water in her lungs.

“You can paint me as a monster as much as you’d like, I only want to repair my family.”

She wondered if he really believed that, when he treated Adrien the way he did, or if it was just another game to him, a ploy to use her empathy in his favour. Either way, she knew better than to trust him.

“By tearing Paris apart in the process?”

“I will do whatever is necessary to bring her back. You’re too young to understand what love truly is.”

“You call this love? You call neglecting your son and endangering his life and destroying his home, love? What about the price? Are you willing to risk Adrien taking your wife’s place?”

“You’re naive. You keep trying to play the hero, but is it worth it? For all this pain and suffering?” She didn’t reply. She wished he would just attack her, that this weird game of formality would end. She couldn’t do anything, not while she was cornered and alone, other than wait for him to give her an opportunity.

“I honestly didn’t want to fight you, Marinette. It would be a shame to take one of Adrien’s friends away from him.” He took another step forward. He was too close, all it would take was for him to reach out and he could claim her earrings. She had nowhere to go, pinned against the wall with her team scattered about the city, he must have known it too, if his lengthy intimidation was anything to go by.

“But if you’re going to lay down your life for such a childish pursuit, then I guess I have no choice.”

Instinct pulled her to the floor and out of his reach as he lunged. She scrambled across the floor, loosening her yo-yo to wrap it around his ankles as she managed to move away from the wall. She hardly had any advantage, but at least she had a chance.

She tugged her yo-yo as he turned to face her, dragging him to the ground. If she could just reach for his Miraculous, this could all be over- 

He grabbed the string of her weapon, stealing the little balance she’d found and robbing her of her only defence. She’d fought without her yo-yo before, but she’d always had Chat there with her, or a lucky charm to guarantee her victory.

The last time she’d been without it, she’d fallen to her death.

Akuma fights always had a sense of order to them, even when everything felt like it was falling out of control, there was a rhythm, a pattern, a clear goal.

This was frantic, suffocating, she could barely process each punch before the next was thrown, the world a blur behind her, a deafening conflict in her mind between the urge to run and the need to fight.

She needed to get out of here, widen her playing field; she’d never been good at fighting in close range. But she couldn’t go, not when his fists blocked every escape route, swinging closer and closer and barely missing by an inch until-

She felt something hot and wet dripping from her nose, a splintering pain shooting across her face. Her wrist ached as it collided with the floor at a crooked angle; whatever quick reflexes Ladybug had relied on lost to the sheer, overwhelming panic that blared through her mind.

A droplet of blood hit the wooden floor beneath her.

He wasn’t strong enough to fight, Wayzz had told him plenty of times, and to put another Miraculous in circulation… It was bad enough that the world now knew about the seven at play, if people knew there were more…

Marinette and Adrien weren’t prepared for something like this. They were only children.

He couldn’t let them do this alone.

A high-pitched scream reverberated through the walls of the toilets, the sound of wings hammering against the door growing more and more insistent as time passed.

The cubicle he’d locked himself in was small, though thankfully built like an actual room as opposed to the flimsy plastic walls that divided most public toilets, but he knew he was pressed for time before the swarm of akumas found their way past the wooden door.

He pulled the Mother Box onto his lap, fumbling for the Miraculous he needed as the drawers of the Zodiac presented themselves.

He needed time . Time to think. Time to act. He barely knew what was happening, or how it had escalated so severely in such a short amount of time.

His fingers wrapped around the Snake Miraculous.

Time wasn’t enough. There was only so much he could do from the toilets of the Gare du Nord.

He hesitated as he reached for another Miraculous: to use Sass alone at his age was enough of a risk. He didn’t even know if he’d survive it.

“Master?” Wayzz looked up at him, concerned. 

No. He needed to do this. For Marinette. For his order. For every mistake he had made.

He grabbed the second Miraculous, resolute.

He wasn’t going to keep watching from the sidelines. These children needed him. He wouldn’t let them continue alone.

“Kalki. Sass. Unify.”

“Alya?”

She startled at the voice in her ear, so tense that the sudden crackle of static noise was enough to make her flinch violently. She prayed none of the public noticed- she’d only just been able to calm the crowds.

“Nino. You’re okay?” It was a relief to hear from him, even though she shouldn’t have any reason to worry about him yet. Perhaps it was just hearing his voice that soothed her.

Although it was only a breath of calm before he spoiled it again. Prick. She wouldn’t be picking up anymore of his calls until her heart rate was back at a reasonable level. “Yeah. We have a problem. Akumas by the Louvre. Heroes Day bullshit.” 

“Fuck. Have you told Marinette?”

“Can’t reach her, or Adrien.” Panic seized her again, frustration joining it in a messy jumble in her mind. The only thing she could distinguish through it all was a sinking realisation that she’d been expecting it. Of course Marinette wouldn’t trust them to help.

Whatever. She had to trust her friend to handle herself. How long had Ladybug been fighting without anyone but Chat? How many years had they done this alone? Marinette would be fine. She would.

“I’m on my way.”

The mansion had never been home, but he’d never looked up at it and felt such a consuming fear, one that made him want to turn and run and hide and fall into his mum’s arms.

But she’s dead, and Marinette was in danger, and he really had no choice but to fight .

“No! No, I won’t… You’ll never win!”

The house was soundproofed, he shouldn’t have been able to hear Marinette’s desperate shouts through the door, but he was transformed, attuned to the world in a way that transcended human ability.

“You don’t really believe that, do you? I can read your emotions, Marinette, you know as well as I do that you’ve failed .” It was his father’s voice. Hawkmoth. The same deep tone that had read him to sleep as a child. The same deafening shout that had threatened to destroy the world for their miraculous.

He hesitated, hated himself for it, because Marinette was in danger. His father would stop at nothing to claim her earrings.

But it was his father threatening her. His father who had kidnapped her parents. His father who had killed and destroyed and terrorised Paris.

He pressed his hand to the door, felt it crumble, break. Ash between his fingers.

A numbing apathy filled the cracks he wrought. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, or he’d hesitate again. It was too much to process, too heavy a weight to bear.

Maybe Marinette was right in wanting him to sit this one out.

He shook away the thought at the sight of her at the foot of the stairs, recoiling from the silhouette of his father, scowling through bloodied lips. Hawkmoth turned to face him, barely a moment of shock delayed him before his eyes narrowed and they’re so familiar that he wanted to be sick.

“Chat Noir. How kind of you to join us.”

He didn’t know how to respond. His body wouldn’t spring into action like he needed it to, the instinct that had guided him through a thousand battles frozen under his father’s glare. If he asked Adrien to leave, to go up to his room, he didn’t think he’d be able to suppress the automatic obedience that had defined his whole life.

His father laughed, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching. “You’re pathetic, both of you.”

He turned his back, kneeling down to face Marinette. Her face was painted in blood, bruises beginning to colour pale skin that was normally so flushed with colour, but was now ghostly in its pallor. There was something determined in her eyes, there always was, but there was fear there as well, and a resignation in the way she slouched against the floor.

Perhaps it was seeing her like that, Ladybug, Marinette, so hopeless, so far from her usual passion, that broke him out of his haze. Perhaps it was the realisation that his father’s fingers were brushing her earrings, that he only had moments before their defeat was guaranteed, but something snapped in his mind, took the threads of truth and logic he’d been battling with and bound them to his heart.

He’d clung to the hope that they were somehow wrong, that his father wasn’t really Hawkmoth, that even if he was, his father might have a limit, that despite everything, there was still a kind of humanity there.

He should have learnt his lesson by now.

His father was dead, he’d gone when his mother had disappeared, all that was left was Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste, a cold and uncaring coward .

He didn’t have to call for his power, destructive energy surging through him as he watched Hawkmoth reach for the Ladybug Miraculous.

He was Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir. Wielder of the Black Cat Miraculous.

He was Destruction itself.

The house began to shake, cracking and splintering as tendrils of his power corrupted the ground. His father stumbled backwards, his face twisted with a bitter cruelty, and for a moment all Adrien could see were the faces of his classmates, friends, strangers who had been hurt by the monster in front of him. People who deserved justice. People who deserved to see Gabriel Agreste pay .

For all the pain his father had caused, for everything he had done, he didn’t deserve the freedom of death, but there was an anger burning through him, Plagg’s own rage flowing with it, that demanded vindication.

He let his childhood home get torn apart, atoms collapsing, cracking marble and stone, windows shattering, until it all came crashing down.

Nino was going to be sick.

These weren’t akumas, not really. They were people, morphed by swarms of butterflies, skin rippling and purple. It was almost as if the akumas were eating into them, embedding themselves into the skin of their victims. It wasn’t the normal cartoonish transformation, but something sickening, horrific. 

There was no akumatised object, just butterflies infecting, swarming.

Zombies. Zombie-akumas. It was easier to fight them when he thought of them like that than as people being consumed alive by dark magic. 

He slammed his shield into the side of one of them as it pounced, reaching towards him with its long, butterfly-covered fingers. Why none of the akumas had latched onto him or Chloé was a mystery, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. 

“What’s the plan, DJ Dork?”

He grunted as a zombie slammed into his side. “Original, Chloé. Try to get them into the museum. Contain them. I don’t know.”

He could stand Chloé now, he decided as he socked another butterfly monster in the face, but he wished Alya was here instead. If this was it, ‘the end,’ he didn’t want to go out next to his bitchy classmate. 

It was like he summoned her, he thought, when Alya’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “People are hiding in the Louvre… I’ll go get them as far away from the entrance as possible while you two get these things inside, then we can set off the lockdown alarms and keep them sectioned off.”

He would have let out a sigh of relief at Alya’s arrival if one of the zombies hadn’t slammed into his back, knocking him to the floor and forcing the wind out of his chest instead. He groaned under the impact, used his elbow to ram into the side of the monster. “Awesome. Yeah. On it.”

He stumbled to his feet before the butterfly bastard had a chance to hit him again and threw it through the open doors of the Louvre. Marinette would heal them all up later. Hopefully.

There were around fifty of them all in the square, clamouring towards him and Chloé. He honestly had no idea how to handle them besides trying to draw their attention and leading them into-

An echo of rapid bangs shook the world around him. A bunch of the butterfly things dropped to the ground around him. He could feel it in his chest, the reverberations of the noise, but it took him a long minute to figure out what it was. 

Gunshots.

He’d never actually seen a gun before, or one being fired, at least.

A wall of armed officers lined the open end of the courtyard, shields reflecting off each other in a disorienting display. Helicopters whirred overhead and an officer leaned out from one, megaphone in hand.

“Stand down! All unakumatized persons must evacuate the area.”

Another one of the zombies scrambled towards him in a frantic crawl that, honestly, made him almost shit himself. He launched his shield towards it as Chloé’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Hey. So, the military are here.”

His shield made impact, slamming into the zombie’s head with a crunch. He didn’t have time to retrieve it before another one was on him and his elbows jammed harshly into its stomach. The miraculous cure would fix things. Hopefully. “Thanks, dude. Very helpful.’”

“I was talking to Rena, dipshit.”

He didn’t have time to scowl as he kicked another zombie away from him. He had no idea what he was meant to be doing, how they were meant to win. There was no akumatised object, no way of freeing these people.

“Mlle.Bourgois. Carapace. We’ve been asked to evacuate you. If you come with us, we’ll get you outside of the barricade and into safety.”

He barely listened to the officer, he couldn’t, not when it was all he could do to keep himself upright. His body moved on instinct as Chloé bickered with the officer, her voice still peaking with shrill static in his ear. 

“No, we’re good, thanks. Got a job to do and all that.”

“Unfortunately, we need you to leave so that we can get on with our job and protect Paris.”

“Look, this is ridiculous. We’re protecting Paris right now. Go pester someone-” 

Something grabbed his arm and yanked him back. He didn’t have time to process anything before the world shimmered blue around him.

His father had vanished by the time the dust cleared, leaving him and Marinette alone in a basement he didn’t know existed. Basement wasn’t the right word for the lair, but he couldn’t focus on that. Not now.

“Adrien…”

“You promised you’d wait.” Marinette pressed her lips together, eyes flitting nervously, but she didn’t exactly seem apologetic. It must have been a culmination of everything that had happened, but he was burning with a bitter rage that was lashing out at everyone, including the girl he’d worshiped for the better part of two years.

He stomped away, following the gangway across the fucking ravine under his house, because that was such a normal thing to have. Each of his steps echoed through the chamber, his father had to know where he was, but he didn’t care. Let his father find him. It was time to end this.

There was a weird tube at the garden at the end of the path, like the coffin out of Snow White. He didn’t bother with the buttons that lined the base of it, instead channeled a thread of Destruction towards the cover.

People in books always seemed to have a sense of unease that foretold any horrifying discovery they were about to make. There was always a rising sense of dread, a reluctance, a subconscious knowledge of what they would find.

He wished he’d felt that, that he hadn’t shattered the lid without a thought.

The world shook again, more rubble crumbling from the ceiling, as if the very concept of Destruction was responding to his turmoil.

His mother was dead, she’d been dead for almost three years now. 

It didn’t make seeing her corpse any easier.

“Adrien!” Marinette’s cry was the only warning he had before a black butterfly fluttered into his bell.

Fu dropped his transformation as the blonde girl stumbled through the portal. The release of Sass’ power was immediately draining, like he’d aged another two-hundred years. Perhaps he had, he’d lost count of how many times he’d gone back.

Two minutes. That’s all they had.

“So now you show up? Marinette has been struggling all week because you decided to run off and-”

“I know. We don’t have time for that. Right now, I need your help.” Kwami, why had he ever decided to recruit children? He tried to keep his voice as level as possible, but the righteous anger coming off of all of them was grating. 

“Marinette and Adrien could be fighting for their lives right now. There are people in danger. No offence, dude, but this isn’t the time for this bullshit.”

“In two minutes, Hawkmoth will claim their Miraculous.” He let his words ring a little sharper than he normally would: they needed to know what was at stake here, that it was more important than their adolescent grudges. “They cannot defeat him alone.”

“Great. So what do we do about it, old man? Because I’m starting to think you’re just a thick as shit coward who fobs his problems off onto teenagers.”

How much training had he endured to suppress this kind of frustration, and why did it crumble so quickly at the words of a fifteen-year-old girl. He didn’t push his problems onto teenagers. He had responsibilities she couldn’t even imagine. 

“I have a plan.”

Chloé’s eyes were cold, uncomfortable as they rested on him. “Good.”

“Hello, Chat Noir.”

The world was blurred, slow. He could see his mother, Marinette, the darkness of his bell, but it all felt distant, dream-like. All he could focus on was his father’s voice, cool, soothing. It was so similar to the way he’d spoken when Adrien was young, soft and calm, patronising.

“You’re angry, wronged by your girlfriend, your mentor, and-”

“And you, father.”

Something severed, wavered between them. Some naive part of him hoped that his father had given up, that his identity was all they needed to defeat him, because there was no way his father would continue, no way his father would use him, no way-

“I did it for her, Adrien. For you. For us.”

It came back like a storm, his anger raging through him in another bitter wave, destructive and betrayed.

“She wouldn’t have wanted this.”

White. Blue. Ash in her lungs.

She couldn’t hear past the water in her ears, her body frozen, heavy under the pressure of it all.

She was falling. Falling. Falling. Hawkmoth was beside her, and all she could see was white. Blue.

He was angry at her. He was angry at her and he knew her name and he was angry and there was an akuma in his bell .

Hawkmoth stepped out of the shadows, face illuminated in a mask of purple light as he glared at Chat.

Her parents were there, alive, shouting something, but she couldn’t hear past the water. She couldn’t remember them being dragged over, struggled to see through the blinding white and into the half-destroyed basement.

She was shouting, maybe, but even her own voice was muffled, distant. Her eyes kept flitting between her parents and Hawkmoth and Chat Blanc Noir and she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t.

She’d known it would come to this. She’d known the decision she had to make.

He let all of the rage and resentment that had been festering burn inside him, fueling the Destruction in his blood. Stars exploded, atoms collapsed, time and space withering at his whim. He felt the rusting of metal, the cracks of glass, a nebula shattering at his fingertips. Destruction was his . 

He could feel it in his veins. Hot and crackling and alive . But only Gabriel Agreste would feel the force of its power, only Gabriel Agreste would understand what it meant to be destroyed, because only Gabriel Agreste deserved to know what it felt like to have every molecule in your body sundered .

He wouldn’t be what his father wanted him to be. He wouldn’t blindly obey anymore.

He channeled the sparks of Destruction into his bell, into the connection, into his father. It should have been blinding, but the light of it all only sharpened his vision, bringing the truth into a sharp clarity.

The building began to crumble around them. Rubble bent metal as it fell, a shower of dust and rocks.

Hawkmoth dragged her parents by the rope that bound them, held them out over the abyss of his lair.

Her fingers brushed where her yo-yo should have been, but found empty space instead. Some distant, derealised part of her mind lamented whatever curse had been put on her today, for both weapon and luck to have disappeared from her reach.

“Look at what you’ve done, Marinette.”

It was almost like a dream, a nightmare, a fog of dissociation keeping reality from her eyes. In all her time as Ladybug, in all the months spent pushing them away, she’d never actually had to live without them, never even pictured a world where they weren’t there to hold her as she cried, to smile and sing and bake.

She couldn’t even imagine it now, couldn’t process the fact that they were about to die, that they weren’t going to come back.

“Let them go, please.” Her voice was weak, barely breaking through the rush of water, but it drew a smile of false sympathy across Hawkmoth’s face as he turned his attention back to her, one that was made hollow by the malice in his eyes.

“I can’t-” Her eyes fixed on her parents and the way they had stilled, her mother looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite describe, something between acceptance and fear. “I can’t!” She couldn’t kill them. She couldn’t let them die, not even if the world would burn for it.

The world would burn anyway. Everything would fracture soon, shatter in an explosion of white and blue and she still couldn’t get herself to move, to fight. She still couldn’t look past Hawkmoth to his son because she knew the shade of white she would find there.

“This isn’t fair! Let them go!”

“You’re going to choose costume jewellery over your family, Marinette?” She risked glancing at Chat Blanc- no, Chat Noir. His suit was still black, but she could see the glow of the butterfly mask across his face, the tension in his body as he fought against his father.

“You did.”

He wasn’t Chat Blanc yet. She still had time. Time to, what? Try and take on Hawkmoth herself again, when she’d failed so horribly the first time? To try and convince Adrien, who was angry with her , to destroy his own father?

“And you called me a villain for it.”

Something splintered above them, cracks breaking through the stone ceiling of the cavern.

“You- You are! You want to destroy Paris but I-” She scrambled back as a rock crashed into the ground before her. She couldn’t do this.

Her Miraculous would, though. She’d have to hurt them, but she could reverse it, she could save them.

“I’m tired of this game, Ladybug. Chat Noir, Adrien , is under my control. None of your friends are here to help you. Your parents will die if you do not do as you’re told, so I’ll ask one more time, Marinette. Give me your earrings or let your parents die .”

Alya watched through Fu’s portal, flute barely pressed against her lips.

The manor was collapsing in on itself, rubble and debris crashing through the air. Destruction seemed to radiate from Adrien, electric and careless. His bell was gone, at least, destroyed, and that was the only comfort she could find.

Marinette’s eyes were darting between him and her parents. She’d realised, probably, that there would be no way she could reach them before Gabriel Agreste threw them over the bridge of his weird supervillain lair. There was water beneath them, sure, but with the way the building rained down ash and stone, it wouldn’t do them any favours.

Gabriel couldn’t see the portal, not from where he stood, but she prayed Marinette would catch her eye, that she’d realise she wasn’t alone.

Trust us. Please. We’re here .

Perhaps Marinette had caught her silent plea. Perhaps with all the world crashing down around them, she’d been given no choice but to have some faith.

Either way, Marinette’s voice shattered through the echoing rumble of destruction, shaky and broken but resolute all the same. Assured.

“Never.”

Nino rushed past her, quick and silent, as she breathed out a single note of power, an illusion masking their movements.

She let out a heavy breath, one that caught in her throat with desperate anticipation.

This was it. Their final chance.

Metal clanged against metal as he threw his baton through the air, and instinct guided his hand as he caught its extension, flipping back on himself. His body stung with the impact of his landing, rust corrupting the metal at his feet, as he met his father’s eyes.

His feet began to move of their own accord, his power crackling out through the metal around them as he charged towards his father.

He slammed his staff into his father’s side, swiped his leg behind his knees. His father was strong, but he was angry, burning with a rage he’d never felt before, and nothing was going to stop him from defeating his father.

Normally, his fighting was broken apart by quips and one-liners, but he couldn’t find anything past the betrayal. There was nothing to say, nothing that his father would hear. It would be pointless to argue.

His father’s cane slammed against his neck, sending him crashing to the ground. He swiped his hand across the ground beneath his feet, the metal splintering and dragging Hawkmoth into its cage.

His father began to scramble, squirming in the trap of rusted metal until he was able to twist himself back onto the floor. He took advantage of the moment of pause his father gave, slammed his staff into his stomach.

He dropped his weight into a punch as his father began to sit, and felt the impact of it reverberate through his wrist.

His father was frozen, still. Chloé emerged from the smoke of Alya’s illusions with a self-satisfied smirk.

The world shifted in a way he couldn’t describe, a sudden jarring stop that forced his body through the sickening motion of whiplash. Everything he had been fighting for had come to a sudden, abrupt ending. 

Was this really it? Was it really over?

It barely registered that Chloé had appeared out of nowhere. Honestly, it was the last thing he cared to process.

The world slowed to match the pace of his heart, blurred and numb. He reached down, pulled the broach from his father’s chest.

The butterfly miraculous was hot in his hand, the gem pulsing for a moment before it disintegrated to ash.

His father lay beneath him, blood trickling down his forehead as he glared up at Adrien, frozen in an expression of pure hatred and betrayal. Is that what he really thought of him? Was there no love, no sympathy for his only son?

The house shook, rumbling as it began to crumble.

His voice was dry as he called for his shelter, holding Tom and Sabine as tightly as he could, as if it would somehow save them from the trauma of the situation.

Nino had never felt so young, so out of his depth.

His power formed a ball around them just before they hit the water below, and the impact stung. Ash poured from the ceiling, rock and rubble splashing into the water all around them as they floated. Safe, at least.

It was all he could do to keep reminding himself of that fact as he tried to cling on to his transformation as long as possible, the effort like straining muscles as the mansion above rained down. They were safe. They were alive. Safe. Alive.

He couldn’t think about Alya. Or Adrien or Marinette, or even Chloé. They were unprotected, still fighting on the platform above. They had their powers. They would be fine. They had to be.

He vaguely registered some grim sense of amusement as he watched Adrien’s fussball table splinter into the water. 

Adrien’s entire life had been destroyed, as literally as it had been metaphorically. 

He didn’t register the snot and tears leaking down his face until Sabine began to comfort him, kind as ever. Her daughter was fighting for her life, and yet she still found the strength to keep it together for him. She didn’t even know if Marinette would survive-

No. Marinette would be fine. They would all be fine.

He had to believe it.

The first thing she registered was the weight of rubble against her chest, something heavy crushing her ribs.

She’d never broken her ribs before, but the blinding pain could only suggest that.

The second thing she noticed was the fact that she was detransformed and alone. Her shirt was damp and sticky and warm and she hesitated to crane her neck to acknowledge why, not wanting to see the white fabric stained red and brown.

This wasn’t the first time she’d laid in excruciating pain, staring up at an increasingly fuzzy world above her, waiting for death to lull her into peace. 

But she couldn’t die now, not when she was so, so close to the happily ever after she was desperate for, not when Paris lay in ruins around her, waiting for her to piece it all back together, not when Adrien was still out there, probably just as alone as she was.

“Tikki-?” She hissed. She wouldn’t be able to push the scrap of metal off of her without the aid of her suit, not to mention she might bleed out before she got the chance if she didn’t transform soon.

Tikki flew into her line of sight, and as she came into view, Marinette felt some of the pressure on her ribs dissipate, the pain doubling instantly. It took more effort than it should have to force her exhausted mind to piece together the fact that Tikki had probably been doing something to try and stabilise the wound for her.

Tikki urged her to transform, and while she barely registered the words of the kwami, she forced out her transformation phrase, finding a little relief in the flow of magic that washed over her.

It took a moment to gather enough air into her fractured lungs and figure out how to manoeuvre herself to force the metal off of her.

The world swayed as she got to her feet, blurring and swirling as she tried to make out the ruins of the manor around her. She couldn’t see anyone, or anything but rusted metal and stone. She was alone, lost.

“Adrien!” Where was he? He couldn’t- She couldn’t lose him! Not now, not after everything. “Chat!”

Nothing.

“Marinette!” She turned in the direction of the call, scrambling over the pile of rubble between them.

“Chaton! Chat!” She was running now, sprinting and stumbling and barely conscious but he was there and he was safe and that was all that mattered.

She stumbled to the ground as she reached him, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the crevice of his neck, letting out a wet laugh as his bell jingled lightly. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

For the first time in a while, Marinette registered just how exhausted she was, took notice of the constant tension in her muscles, the tiredness that seemed to cling to her bones, and the weight that hung over her shoulders.

For the first time in a while, she let herself break.

The smell of sulphur and leather and blood was all she could process as she buried her face in Adrien’s shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut as tears dampened her cheeks. She wasn’t really sure what she felt: relief, exhaustion, joy? Her mind was a mess, no coherent thought registering beyond ‘it’s over’, the words echoing again and again like a mantra as she sobbed.

They’d won. Hawkmoth- Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur would be taken into custody, the butterfly and peacock Miraculous would be back in her hands. It was over. They’d won.

Something whispered an argument in the back of her mind, a vague reminder of the last week and a half, but she ignored it, clinging onto Adrien as she let out something between a laugh and a sob, making a half-hearted attempt to suffocate herself with how tightly she held him.

Adrien returned the gesture without a moment of hesitation, and she could feel a growing dampness against her neck where his tears fell. He was saying something that she couldn’t make out beyond the rumbling of his chest and the vibrations of his voice box against her ear as he spoke. She returned the gesture with her own babbling comforts, apologies, her words more vague noises than comprehensible phrases, but she didn’t care, letting herself fall deeper into his arms with a choked sob.

It took more effort than it probably should have to force the words “Miraculous Ladybug” from her lips, and her throw of her Lucky Charm was nothing more than her hands loosening their hold on the object in her reluctance to move even an inch from Adrien’s arms.

The warmth of her magic wrapped them in its embrace, returning enough of her strength for her to squeeze Adrien even tighter - if such a feat was even possible. She felt the pain in her ribs subside, the little aches and pains of battle slipping away into obscurity as the sparkling feeling of magic brushed her skin. It did little to soothe the ache of exhaustion, or lighten the emotional burdens they carried, but it was a reassurance nonetheless as the city restored itself around them for the last time, carrying away the remnants of their war in a flurry of pink and red and black, her transformation dropping with it.

It left her with nothing but a new kind of pain: a relief marred by frustration. She was just a girl, sobbing into the shoulder of a boy she betrayed, destroyed, without a single drop of blood to stand testament to what they’ve done. She didn’t have a single scar or bruise to justify the crippling ache within her, no suit or black eye to prove that they’d been to hell and back, that they’d won.

She was just a girl, clinging to her crush on the pavement of a street she didn’t know, illuminated by the dim light of street lamps and sunrise.

Not Ladybug. Not a hero. Not right now.

She was just Marinette Dupain-Cheng, that's all she could stand to be, to carry nothing more than the trivial agony of being 15.

“I’m so sorry, Chaton, Adrien. God, I’m so, so sorry.” He didn’t say anything, and she felt desperation suffocate her throat, twisting every articulate thought into a barely formed mess of sobbed apologies. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry your dad was Hawkmoth. I’m sorry I made you fight him. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you to. I’m sorry I went alone. I’m sorry you had to come. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m-

“It’s okay, Marinette. We’re okay.”

We’re okay.

He was right, she reasoned. They were okay. They had survived. 

So why did it feel so hollow? Why could she only feel the heavy weight of exhaustion? There was barely a whisper of relief in her mind, so little satisfaction in their victory.

They’d lost so much. Could they really say they’d won?

Still, with him here, she had to trust that they would be okay, that they were finally free from the responsibility and pain of the past three years. 

So long as he was by her side, everything would be okay.

“Pound it.”

--- The End ---