Work Text:
“I swear it won’t happen again!”
“That’s what you said the last time!”
The burst of words at knife point startle Adrien out of his sleepy haze. Halfway up the stairs to class, he was so exhausted that he hadn’t even noticed the clear sounds of fighting until just now. Last night’s akuma had taken him and Ladybug hours to beat back and cleanse; he was counting it among an ever-growing list of miracles that he even woke up in time to make it to class, let alone get there early.
“Alya, I know that last night was important to you-”
“It was my birthday!”
“And I made you a promise that I’d be there-”
“My cousins teased me the entire night about not having any friends-”
“But I promise, I didn’t mean to-”
He hits the top step with a frown. Both of those voices he recognizes, and neither of those voices has he ever heard sound so upset. Alya and Marinette were close, even better friends than he and Nino, and he can’t think of a single instance in which he’s seen the two fight.
Speaking of, Nino is stopped outside of their homeroom, just out of view of the of the open door. He turns with a worried look and presses a finger to his lips when he hears Adrien approach.
‘What’s going on?’ Adrien mouths. Nino shrugs, but pulls him back away from the room when he tries to enter.
‘Danger zone,’ Nino whispers.
“You keep making these promises, Marinette, but it never seems like you care enough to keep them. What was your excuse this time? Surprise babysitting? Slept through your alarm? Too much homework? If you don’t want to be friends, just say it.” Alya’s voice is cutting, and Adrien can hear Marinette cringe as she lets out a soft, “No, never, it’s not that.”
“Well you know what?” Alya spits, “Maybe I don’t want to be friends.”
Adrien and Nino share shocked looks. He once again tries to enter the classroom, but Nino holds tight on his arm and shakes his head.
“B-but, but Alya, please-”
“I can’t keep doing this. Best friends are supposed to be there for each other, to trust one another and support each other. But how can I be best friends with someone who’s like, never around? Someone who clearly isn’t telling me the truth about something? Whatever is going on, Marinette, I’m not going to keep suffering for it. I’m done.”
They hear Alya’s approaching footsteps but don’t have time to react; she stomps out into the hall and towards the bathroom without so much as a backwards glance. Her shoulders are set, squared and tense. Adrien looks to Nino, certain that he’s mirroring his friend’s worried expression. His fears are confirmed a moment later when a soft, breathy hitch comes from the next room. This time, Nino lets Adrien go.
Marinette leans against Nino and Adrien’s desk, face in her hands. Her shoulders shake in tight sobs, the kind it’s clear she’s trying to hold back.
“Marinette, are you alright?”
It’s a stupid question, and Adrien knows it, but it does the trick: she looks up. Against the red of her face, her blue eyes look even bluer, though the skin under her eyes is starting to get puffy. A few small tears cling to long lashes. He’d be jealous of how prettily Marinette cries were it not for the larger issue that Marinette was crying. Nino comes up behind him and gives Marinette a weak smile.
She sniffles and runs the heel of her hand under both eyes. It’s with stunning clarity and composure that she looks Adrien dead-on and says, “I think I would be more alright if I weren’t Marinette anymore.”
There’s not enough time to make sense of her words, nor to compose a response. Slack-jawed, Adrien and Nino watch Marinette shoulder her backpack and walk out of class.
…
Alya returns in time for homeroom. Marinette does not.
…
“Is everything alright, My Lady? I know I’m the chatterbox, but you’re being unusually quiet.”
They’ve stopped at the bottom tier of the Eiffel Tower for a breather; Ladybug had been pushing an excruciating pace for a simple, regular patrol, and even with enhanced abilities and a not-unimpressive cardiovascular strength, Chat had begged a pause. When Ladybug turns to look at him, he’s glad he did - her breath comes in huge, unsteady gasps, and her face seems dangerously flushed.
“I’m fine, Chat,” she says. Her voice is nasal, thick and clogged.
“Are you getting sick?” he asks, brow furrowing in concern, “If you’re coming down with something, you should really get home and get some rest. I can take care of patrol tonight.”
“I’m fine,” Ladybug repeats. He’s doesn’t question the edge in her voice, though he wants to, though he should.
Nor does Chat question the words he catches next, likely because he isn’t meant to hear.
“I don’t really want to go home yet, anyway,” she says under her breath.
…
The seat behind him is empty for a second day. Nino ventures a tentative question in Alya’s direction, to which the girl responds with a sharp, “I haven’t talked to her.”
Five minutes into chemistry, Adrien’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Nino is sitting one row over, so it’s not him. The moment Mme. Mendeleiev turns back to the board, Adrien is discreetly pulling out his phone. An update from the Ladyblog.
-Mugging Prevented in 7ieme Arrondissement; Ladybug Spotted Apprehending Suspect- reads the notification.
It makes him frown. It was the middle of the day, and unless there was akuma activity, Ladybug was almost never seen. Adrien had next to no doubts that Ladybug was in college or lycee, and should have been in school, just like him.
A few rows up, he sees Alya perk up - she must have gotten the same notification. She turns, practically bouncing in her seat, to whisper something to the other person at her desk, only to be met with air. Marinette is still not there.
…
As he suspected, Ladybug is camped out in their usual rooftop retreat. The halfway point to their usual patrol beat, the rooftop was comfortably abandoned, with a hole-punched awning that provided just enough shade on a summer day and a few creaking chairs. She reclines in one now and stares out over Paris. Her lips are pursed and brow bent; Chat knows nothing good comes of that.
“It’s not a patrol night,” she says in greeting.
“And one in the afternoon on a Tuesday is hardly the time to be busting up petty crime,My Lady.”
Ladybug laughs a little at that, shoulders shaking, but the whole effect falls flat.
“You know what they say, crime never sleeps.”
He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Or goes to school?”
Ladybug stands up and puts her hands on her hips, twisting a little to face him. Almost everything - the stance, the smile, the lilt of her voice - is in line with her regular teasing.
“Okay, okay, you caught me - I may have skipped today. Whatcha gonna do, Chaton, arrest me?”
And he’d almost feel better if her smile reached her eyes.
…
“I haven’t heard from her, Mme Bustier,” Alya says. The tightness in her voice rings clear. It’s not anger anymore. Nino nudges Adrien in the side and glances at Marinette’s empty seat, as if Adrien hadn’t noticed the moment he walked in.
It’s not long after that Principal Damocles opens the door and asks Alya to come to the office. Even through the warped windows, Adrien recognizes the hulking figure of Tom Dupain-Cheng waiting.
…
Adrien shifts in the uncomfortable chairs of Damocles’ office. Officer Roger smiles kindly at him from the other side of the desk, flanked by Principal Damocles and Marinette’s father. He tries to swallow the boulder that seems caught in his throat.
“I last saw Marinette Monday morning. Nino and I overheard her and Alya arguing… we saw her for maybe a minute after Alya left, and then she left too. I guess Marinette missed Alya’s birthday dinner, and Alya was upset. I haven’t seen her since.”
Roger nods. Tom’s expression looks pained.
“And did she say anything before she left?”
I think I would be more alright if I weren’t Marinette anymore.
“Not that I remember, Sir.”
The lie sits like a brick on his tongue, but he can’t unspeak it.
…
Like that, Ladybug is everywhere, all of the time. Not just battling akuma, but stopping thieves, breaking up back-alley fights, rescuing kittens from trees. Every night someone on the Ladyblog posts a new picture of her, crossing from rooftop to rooftop, spinning up the Eiffel Tower. Even on nights where crime is calm, where no patrols or appearances have been scheduled, she’s there.
…
“Adrien, isn’t that your classmate?”
Nathalie sounds surprised; Adrien is surprised to hear it. He looks up from his homework to see Nathalie turning her tablet to him. Marinette’s smiling face shines out. Over her picture, the words “MISSING PERSON” blares in bold, red letters. His chest clenches, and suddenly he doesn’t have enough air to breathe, let alone talk. All he can do is nod.
“Poor girl,” Nathalie muses, “Maybe Ladybug and Chat Noir will be able to find her.”
…
Ladybug is surprisingly resistant to the idea. She crosses her arms and turns her back to him.
“Do you even know if she’s in danger?”
Chat tugs at his hair, pulling it even wilder. How Ladybug could even hesitate on the matter is unlike her, the protector of Paris. And it’s Marinette. Ladybug knows her, had him protect her from Le Dessinateur.
“Does it matter?” he snaps, “She’s been missing for almost four days.”
Without being able to see her face, he can only judge her feelings by the slump of her shoulders.
“You and I can’t save everyone, Chat. We should focus out efforts where we’re needed.”
He can’t stand it. In three long strides, he’s crossed the roof and has his hands on her shoulders. Far from gentle, he spins her around to face him.
“Marinette is my friend, Ladybug. If you’re not going to look for her, then I will.”
Chat lets her go and turns on his heel. With a flick of his wrist, his baton extends, and he’s gone.
Which is either a shame or a blessing, given how he misses the tears that course down Ladybug’s cheeks.
…
Everything is Marinette. One monitor is perpetually streaming a local news channel, while the other displays an RSS feed based on the tag #trouvemari that Alya had helped Sabine and Tom set up. The first few days had seen the tag exploding; it seemed like half of Paris was on high-alert for the girl, but the number of posts and reports about her had slowed to a thick trickle in the last few days.
“I just don’t get it, Plagg,” Adrien groans. He tosses his phone onto the bed, and follows a moment later. Burying his head in his pillow, he closes his burning eyes - Adrien’s been staring at a screen for way too long. It’s been five days, and he’s spent the last two nights scaling buildings and searching alleys for her. Nathalie, kinder than he thought, had even allowed his lie, canceling his photoshoots under the excuse of emotional distress.
Which, actually, wasn’t all that much of a lie.
“How could Marinette just… disappear like that?”
“Maybe she didn’t,” Plagg says. Plagg doesn’t laugh, or tease, and after the last few days, he’s learned well enough to stay out of Adrien’s swiping range.
Adrien flips onto his back to glare at the kwami. In the background, he catches a snippet of some news report - another Ladybug sighting.
“Well, no one has seen her in days. If that’s not a disappearance, Plagg, I don’t know what is.”
Plagg floats over. With his tiny paws, he grabs at Adrien’s chin and tilts his head up. The strength is surprising; Plagg had certainly never put effort into anything before. Adrien’s gaze is directed to his monitor.
“Don’t be dense,” Plagg says, sighing.
…
His heart throbs in his chest.
“Marinette?”
Most of the streetlights have flickered into darkness. It’s well past midnight, and Adrien Agreste is standing in a cramped alley, calling up to the rooftop of an abandoned cafe. He almost didn’t recognize the place - he mostly sees it from the top, down.
“Marinette?” he calls again.
No response. But it doesn’t matter. He knows he’s right.
“Ladybug!” Adrien shouts. It’s not a question.
There’s a flash of red peeking over the side of the roof.
“A-ah, and you are?” Ladybug asks.
Dieu, she sounds just like her. Well, of course. How could he have missed it?
“You know who I am,” Adrien says.
Even from up there, he can see Ladybug roll her eyes. “Okay, fine, yes, I’ve seen you on a billboard or two I suppose, M. Agreste.”
It stings, truly, though Adrien knows he should have expected it. He’d thought approaching this as Adrien would be the right way, but he’s suddenly unsure.
“That’s not what I meant, Marinette.”
The bit of red he can see without his nightvision disappears. If ever he were looking for an answer, there it is.
“Plagg?” Adrien asks. The kwami zips out from his jacket, ready. “Let’s go. Transform me.”
…
Ladybug is curled into a ball, arms encircling her knees. She sits on the bare floor of the roof, face tucked between her knees. From where he climbs up, he can’t hear he crying, but he can see the way her body quivers and shakes.
“Marinette,” he says softly.
“Leave me alone, Adrien!” she shouts. Her head snaps up, mouth open to shout again, but Ladybug freezes at the sight of him. Chat takes a few steps, hands raised, placating.
“My Lady,” Chat starts, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you safe.”
She blinks once. Under the moonlight, the tear tracks stain her cheeks silver.
“But Chat- you were- Adrien was-”
He nods. “It’s me, Marinette,” Chat says, voice soft. “You had me worried, you know? Everyone was worried.”
Ladybug moves to stand up, but her knees can’t seem to take the weight - she collapses in on herself once more. Lips parted, Ladybug stares as he approaches. She doesn’t move as he drops into a squat, doesn’t move as he wraps his arms around her and breathes in a scent so familiar and so obviously Marinette: sweat, cinnamon, sweet and hot. Ladybug and Marinette.
“You’re safe,” he whispers, “You’re safe and you’re here.”
“Chat…”
Plagg must understand - the transformation releases to leave him, Adrien, on his own. Adrien pulls her tighter, drawing Ladybug to his chest with no regard for how it knocks them both off balance. He lands on his ass; she lands half on his lap, and he doesn’t care because Marinette is there.
“I didn’t want this,” Ladybug mutters, “I didn’t want you to know, ever.” With each word, her voice becomes more strained. Tears creep into her words. “Ladybug is everything Marinette isn’t. Everybody needs Ladybug; Nobody needs Marinette.”
Little round points of heat sink into his shirt, wet against his chest. Hot lines streak down his face - they match.
“I need Marinette,” Adrien breathes. Whether it’s exhaustion, or worry, or Ladybug’s kwami finally giving out, Adrien finds himself momentarily blinded by pink light an instant later.
Her hands, ungloved, clutch at his sides. Her legs, clad in pink, tuck up under her, bringing her closer to him. Adrien pulls her as close as possible and doesn’t care that his tears fall onto the crown of her head.
“I need Marinette.”