Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ladybug trod carefully on the metal floors. It was a habit, even though it wasn’t a necessary one: she knew nobody here could lay a finger on her. But she preferred to do as little as possible, and so she had to make as little noise as possible.

Her earpiece had been quiet for a while. Perhaps that was a good thing. Having even more voices in her head would only have served to distract her. She already knew her mission, and she knew she was going to pull it off. Although… she did have a nasty habit of forgetting numbers…

What floor was he supposed to be on? she thought, primary level.

Six, replied Adrien, primary level. But he could be anywhere on the base. That’s just his office.

Right, she thought, primary level. Thank you.

No problem. I can’t wait for you to get back.

She smiled, but only halfway. Once she got back, she would smile the whole way, right at his face. Then again, she wouldn’t be smiling at him the same way he smiled at her, but he was already aware of that. It was just a layer of awkwardness that she always had to deal with.

His tertiary level thoughts were the same as always: excitement; nervousness; a bombardment of random background ideas that ranged between food and his upcoming haircut, to his opinions on their various instructors, to idly wondering what was happening to his body, to random memories from the past few days.

But accompanying them, as always, was that little pink sensation that never went away. Every time she Held him it was there, although it was less pink and less glowing now than it used to. It meant he was still in love with her.

She wished she could have given him what he wanted. It was terrible to know all his thoughts, to have them jumble their way into hers, and yet have to deny him on such a fundamental level. But their relationship had to stay purely professional.

A set of stairs. She looked around carefully, but saw nobody. Yet another reason why it was unnecessary to sneak around, she supposed… but it only frustrated her. Why was she sent here, if the place was going to be so empty? Was T.05 even here? Surely T.05 wouldn’t be left alone when he was so important. Would he be surrounded by guards? Was his intel that bad, that he thought she would be stopped by some goons with guns? He did have an anomaly, but from QG’s intel it was a minor one, not a threat to her at all. Something, some way, had to be up.

The only guards she had encountered so far were the two posted outside. Her combat training had been enough to deal with them — not a suspicious thing in itself, because Adrien’s anomaly was just like that. But for everywhere else to be completely empty was a large, red, flashing light with an accompanying blaring alarm.

Still… she could handle it. She was, for all intents and purposes, invincible. There wasn’t a single thing that anyone here could do to her, even if they had rocket launchers. Something had to be up, but it had to be something stupid and badly-thought-out. It was just… frustrating.

Worrying.

Why didn’t they send Adrien here? T.05’s anomaly couldn’t have done anything to him. Her powers weren’t really needed at all. If she had been in charge of planning she would have sent him and been absolutely confident of his return, but QG had said it had to be her. Like always. She was the field operative, and he was the home defence, and she was normally fine with it and she had even been fine with it up until a few minutes ago, when she noticed how little activity there was at this supposedly important base. Now it was fuelling her thoughts and her thoughts were not happy, as they raced down the tracks of possibilities.

Adrien didn’t seem to think much about it at all. His tertiary thoughts said nothing, except they occasionally noted [boredom]. What a boring mission, he seemed to be saying, except it didn’t actually come out in his primary level thoughts, the things he wanted to communicate to her directly. Obviously — he was trying to be considerate of her.

Not that it helped. Not that it ever had, or ever would. She probably knew his mind better than he did, and that… was a sobering thought.

Ugh. She was getting distracted. Time to focus.

T.05. Target 05, better known as Marc Anciel. A leader of the Akumas. Not the primary leader, but an important figure who had commanded multiple assaults on targets of national importance. An Anom. His anomaly was supposedly the ability to contort his body like putty, which meant he could go anywhere he wanted by pushing himself through keyholes, or mould his arms into weapons. He wouldn’t pose a problem for her.

The Akumas. One of the terrorist blocs that sprang up during the civil war, named for… honestly, she didn’t remember, because she didn’t need to. Their origin could be traced earlier than most of the other blocs, and they were well equipped, even though intel estimated them to also be the smallest. It was rumoured that they were receiving monetary support from wealthy benefactors in government, and that was how they managed to be such a problem.

Maybe their small size could explain why she was seeing few of them, but not this few. She had infiltrated hideouts of theirs before, and they were always well guarded. Something was wrong, and she was going to find out what before she left.

She tapped her earpiece. “There’s nobody here,” she said, looking around a corner to still see nobody — though she did see the stairs to the sixth floor. “It’s like a trap.”

“Roger,” said Traquemoiselle’s tinny, sparky voice. “Keep going.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird there’s nobody here?” she continued, half exasperated.

“Yes. It is. Keep going. This mission is of critical importance, and you are untouchable.”

“Okay. Copy.” Ladybug sighed and moved forward, still with light feet, still looking around, because she could never be careful enough. It wasn’t that Traquemoiselle was wrong, it was just that… something felt wrong. Something that wasn’t here.

Don’t worry, said Adrien’s primary level thoughts. Sabrina’s right. You have my anomaly. You’re completely safe.

I know, she thought back, primary level. But I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried about someone else’s safety.

What do you mean?

Do we have anybody else out in the field? Is this a misdirection?

He paused a little before he answered, though his tertiary level thoughts were hurrying down sprawling paths. Eventually, his primary level said, Look. You’re just one person, despite your anomaly. It’s not like you could protect everyone. There are dozens of Anoms, and hundreds of agents. A misdirection would mean… sending all of us somewhere, and then attacking the base. Not sending you alone.

Even so… — she started thinking that, but trailed away.

I believe in you, he finished. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.

She didn’t reply. All her thoughts remained on lower levels. She reached the stairs, climbed them slowly, almost felt like she wanted to try and run up that flight — because if she did, she would be finished sooner. If they had a trap waiting for her, they were going to be sorely disappointed, but if they had a trap waiting for somebody else…

She shook her head as she reached the sixth floor, trying to blow the worry away. It didn’t disappear, though, but lay there like a pool of quicksilver in her stomach. The sixth floor was a corridor, with two doors on either side and one door at the far end — it seemed almost too obvious. But she wanted to get done with this and put her mind to rest.

Her feet remained quiet as she approached that last door. But she pushed it open with a single motion, and stood in the open doorway, face to face with…

… a man. A man all by his lonesome, with a goatee and beard stubble, standing as though he had been waiting for her. And he was not T.05.

“Hello, Ladybug,” he said. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“What’s going on?” she said, unwilling to deal with small talk right now. She stepped inside, one two three steps, just to get an overview of the room. She couldn’t see anybody else there. “Where is T.05?”

“T.05? Is that what you call him over there? Marc isn’t here right now, I’m afraid.”

“Our intel said —”

“Your intel thinks I’m him. It’s my superpower. Or… you call them anomalies, don’t you… my name’s Théo Barbot, and I can pretend to be anyone, to the point where even technology is fooled. My driver’s licence currently says I’m Marc Anciel, and your spy cameras think the same thing.”

She frowned at him. “What’s that got to do with anything? Why are you here, and not him?”

“We know everything about your little assassination attempt. And I’m afraid it’s not going to work.”

You can still kill him, thought Adrien. He’s T.12. Don’t let him discourage you. If you take him out it’s still a win.

“You sound very confident for someone who’s about to die,” said Ladybug. “What’s your plan, pretending to be me? That won’t help you.”

“Actually…” He pulled out a gun from a holster at his side. She hadn’t paid it any attention before, because she didn’t need to. “I was planning to shoot you.”

He fired. He was a decent shot, despite its futility. The bullet glanced off her chest, near the heart; she felt it like the flick of a finger.

See? Nothing to worry about, thought Adrien.

“Seriously?” she said, almost snarling. “You know who I am. You should know that won’t work on me.”

“Just testing, just testing,” he said, smirking confidently. His gun was still raised. “I hadn’t seen your anomaly in action yet. It’s remarkable.”

“It’s not my anomaly.”

“Oh, I know that. It’s Chat Noir’s, isn’t it? I’ve seen his power, from a distance. And you just… took it from him. You took all of him, didn’t you? His mind, his memories, his abilities. A perfect imitation.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t see a need to. Her words were better used for people whose voices weren’t dripping with smug self-satisfaction.

It’s only normal for them to have intel on their worst enemy, thought Adrien. There’s no need to be alarmed. He’s just buying time.

“You do it with a touch, don’t you?” T.12 continued. “Your bare skin against somebody else’s. You touched him and took him into you. That’s why you wear those gloves.”

She lifted her left hand and looked at it. The gloves were thin, form-fitting, red with black spots. Taking hold of the tip of the middle finger with her other hand, she pulled the glove off. “You’re right,” she said — except he wasn’t completely right. It only needed to be her bare skin, not theirs. “It’s my curse.”

“I dare say it’s our curse, given how you’ve used it against us for years. We’ve lost many good soldiers to your anomaly, Ladybug. But all that… ends today.”

“What do you mean?” she said. He was only ten feet away. She could walk over to him and end it so quickly — but his confidence was unnerving. There was definitely a trap somewhere.

“Where did you leave his body?” he said. “In the usual spot? When you touch someone, that’s what happens to them, right? They’re just there, a useless heap of meat.”

“What’s it to you?” she said. Except he had said… ‘the usual spot’...

“Well, it’s an interesting anomaly, isn’t it? You steal the entire person. Everything except their body. The body must be very vulnerable like that, don’t you think? If someone got access to the room his body’s in… that would be very bad for both of you, wouldn’t it?”

She froze completely. “What are you…”

Something’s wrong, thought Adrien. Primary level, but his quaternary thoughts were also going into action now. His trouble thoughts. Something was wrong, something was incredibly wrong.

“Let’s say,” said T.12, “that an Akuma agent had infiltrated into his hiding space. I wonder what would happen if they… say… slit his throat? Shot him through the heart? Could he live without his body?” His smirk was an evil grin now. “I doubt it. I think if that were to happen… he would be gone forever, and you would be helpless without him.”

I feel cold, thought Adrien. His quaternary thoughts screamed, but the screams were getting weaker. His tertiary thoughts, too, were fading. I feel… I feel…

Her own thoughts were also fading. But they were fading behind something red, growing, boiling. “You — what did you do —”

“I believe I’ve already explained everything I need to.”

Marinette… get out of there…

“Unless I’m mistaken… he should already be dead. You can feel him disappearing, can’t you?”

Marinette… help… me…

Her hands were already fists. Her nails were already digging into her palms, maybe even deep enough to draw blood. Her anger was already aflame, before she even noticed it emerging from the mists of her worry. “You…”

“Ah… what a wonderful expression to see on the face of our greatest enemy,” said T.12. “And now… let’s see what happens if I —”

Everything inside her went into a frenzy. His words stopped registering in her ears. Adrien was gone — the space in her mind where he had waited was empty. He was gone, he was dead, he was murdered: nothing else mattered. She wanted revenge. She wanted to snap the neck of the person who had killed him. But they weren’t here, and the only person she could take revenge on was an impostor, a smarmy fraud, a hateful little vermin.

She charged forward. T.12’s expression morphed from sadistic pleasure to fear. He raised his gun and shot twice, she felt the bullets hit her, but she didn’t care. She closed the distance before he could shoot again, before he could drop the weapon and turn to run, and she grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and felt him go limp; she threw his body to the floor.

Ah, I see, he thought, primary level. So this is how it works… interesting.

“Shut up,” she barked out loud. “Shut up. Shut up.”

I would have preferred not to die… but I fulfilled my purpose. I held you here long enough for our guy to take out Chat Noir. I shot you. I’d say that’s worth dying for.

“Shut up, you bastard,” she said. She noticed she was crying. Large, rolling tears that tumbled down her cheeks. The way Adrien had faded… it was the exact same way that she’d felt a hundred others die before. She had Held them, she had stabbed them through the heart, and she had felt them wither away; she had heard their dying thoughts, and dying thoughts always felt the same. Adrien was dead, and T.12 had helped kill him. She bent down to pick up the gun from the floor.

Why would I shut up? I’m your enemy. Now I’m in your head, I can torment you until you kill me. I don’t have anything else to do, do I? Not like I could get up again and punch you in the face, right?

“Shut — shut up!”

Remember when you took out Vincent? That was only two weeks ago. We couldn’t hold a funeral, because you tyrants appropriated his body for your ‘research’. I wonder if they’ll do the same to Chat Noir? If they’ll cut open his body and —

She fired the gun. Into his forehead, into his heart, two more times into his heart, into his throat. Her gun hand was steady, but every other part of her was trembling. As the blood spread out across his clothes, the colour growing brighter and pinker towards the outer edges, even that hand started to shake — and she dropped the gun.

So this is what it’s like to die…

She wanted to shout at him again. But… what would be the point of that? He was dead. He was fading away, his primary and his tertiary and his quaternary thoughts all together, his fear of death and his rage at life and most of all, his wrath at her. She let it all seep out the way his blood seeped out — or perhaps she didn’t let it, perhaps it was the only thing she was capable of doing. She felt numb. She felt like she wanted to fall over. She felt like she wanted to scream at her superiors. She wanted to scream at herself. She wanted to see Adrien’s body, to hug it, to pray over it so that he could start his next life in safety and calm.

Then she heard it. A voice, from out in the hallway — a girl’s voice, muffled by distance and a door. Maybe one of the doors she passed by. “Hello?” it said. “Is he gone?”

Someone else. There was someone else; an enemy? A prisoner? She wasn’t Holding anyone. She was vulnerable. If this voice was a backup terrorist meant to finish the job if T.12 couldn’t… she would be in big trouble.

But what did it matter? Her best friend was dead. If she couldn’t face her own death, what good was she? What use was she to anyone?

She steadied herself, bunched together her fists again. Walked out into the hallway again. “Hello?” she called out. Her hip felt stiff. Her leg stung, like she had stepped on it wrong. She ignored it; she had too much going on to worry about that. There was a mission to wrap up, and a body to bury. There was a voice to identify.

“Hello,” the voice said again — from the first door to her right. Ladybug turned immediately to open it, and saw…

… a girl. Maybe her age, maybe a little bit younger, with short-cut black hair and amber eyes. She was alone, sitting on a wooden four-legged chair in a room that barely seemed larger than a broom closet; the door almost hit her knees as it swung in. Her face wasn’t impassive, but it also didn’t reveal anything — surprise, relief, any kind of feeling.

More importantly, though, she was tied up. Her wrists and her ankles were both bound with thick rope, locking her into her position on the chair with an extra rope tied between the bindings.

“… Who are you?” said Ladybug.

The girl looked down at Ladybug’s waist. “You’re injured,” she said.

“What?”

“You’re bleeding. You have been shot.”

Right. T.12, just before she Held him. The gun had fired… two shots? She looked down herself and saw… a large patch of blood on her right hip, and another shot that had hit her over her right knee. They looked bad. She hadn’t noticed the trail of blood that now led back into the room with T.12’s corpse. But as her brain slowly caught up with what she was seeing, she felt the wounds like two sharp jabs — no, worse, like she had red-hot pokers jammed into her side. She whimpered in pain.

“Who are you?” the girl asked.

“Lh… nnh… Ladybug.” She moved all her weight off the shot foot. “Why are you here? Did the Akumas take you prisoner?”

“I’m tied up to a chair,” came the reply.

“P-point taken… ngh,” said Ladybug. “We’ll rescue you. Don’t worry.” Fighting against the pain, which was building stronger with every second, she touched her earpiece again. “Traquemoiselle? I need… to get back. Immediately. The akumas also had… a prisoner who needs… to be examined.”

“Roger. I’ll be there straight away.”

She didn’t say anything about Adrien being dead. She wanted to be the first to see him. Raising an alarm would only get him taken away before she could get to his room. Instead, she turned to the girl again and tried to smile for her.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll have you out of here very soon. Ngh…”

“You don’t look fit to take me anywhere,” said the girl.

There was a flash in the hallway. Traquemoiselle had arrived.

“Maybe not,” said Ladybug.

Then the lights went out, and she tumbled into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

She came to in a hospital bed.

It was like waking up in a memory. She hadn’t been here for over two years, and she hadn’t been in a bed here for twice as long. It was a whole hallway of these rooms, each one with the same layout, each one equally sterile, each one subjected to the endless clacks from the nurses’ shoes along the hallways.

The last time she was in one of these beds was… T.07, or T.08, whichever one was Climatika. The girl who could control electricity. Filled the whole room with extreme levels of voltage in pure terror when she saw Ladybug approaching. Of course she did — it had fried everyone else she had ever used it against, and when it suddenly didn’t fry someone her solution was to turn up the power even higher.

It was the moment when Ladybug touched her that it happened. There was always a period of readjustment, even if it was just the blink of an eye. And in that time, a jolt of electricity had struck hard enough to almost knock her unconscious, leaving a burn mark that still wasn’t gone four years later. All because in that moment, when she touched T.whatever and it relinquished her Hold on Adrien — Adrien…

Adrien.

She sat up straight, then twisted her legs out of bed. It stung, but she would be fine, she could deal with a couple of bullet holes.

Or so she thought, until her heel hit the ground and she experienced what felt like days of pain all at once. She screamed and lifted the leg up, but it didn’t help, it only added new pain directions, and she threw herself against the bed just to not fall over. Gasping every breath, she tried to grit her teeth but only managed it halfway.

Soon she heard the telltale clacks outside, coming closer in apparent hurry. And then, a nurse — one that she hadn’t seen before, a man who had to be in his twenties — appeared in the open doorway, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

“Ladybug!” the nurse said. “You have to be in bed! You have a fracture in your hip and severely damaged musculature above your knee!”

“I have to… see Adrien,” she groaned back. Her head was starting to feel woozy. “Adrien… where is he?”

The nurse’s face moulded itself into horrible sympathy. “Chat Noir is… dead,” she said.

“I know. I… have to see him. His body. I have to see him…”

“He’s already been taken away. Ladybug… you must rest.” The nurse came closer, and almost grabbed her by the arm —

— “No! Don’t touch me!” shouted Ladybug, wrenching her arm out of the nurse’s way. “If you touch me, you’ll disappear!”

“I have to put you back into bed!”

“No!”

And — then the nurse stepped even closer and grabbed for her, and brushed against the skin of her neck. She only barely managed to twist away so the nurse’s body didn’t fall over her leg, though the movement still brought fresh blooms of pain.

What? thought the nurse, primary level, though the call was repeated on all lower levels. Why?

Ladybug made an attempt to heave herself into bed. It jabbed spikes through her entire right side, but staying on her feet would only make things worse.

That’s what happens when you get into physical contact with me, she thought back. You know who I am, don’t you? Did they stop covering me in training?

Can’t you control it? It — it’s not on purpose?

No. She managed to pull herself onto the bed again, to wrest her body over the edge, but every nerve in her body was screaming. She was so happy that her own thoughts, everything below the primary level, were only hers. It’s automatic. I can choose to let you go whenever, but I can’t stop myself from taking you in. If I send you back and you’re still in contact with me, you’ll go into me again.

But that’s terrible!

Wasn’t it just. Bitterly, she pulled herself along the bed until her face barely touched the pillow. Wasn’t it just terrible that any time her skin brushed against someone, she swallowed their entire being inside a second space in her mind. Wasn’t it just terrible that she had to wear a full-body suit whenever she was anywhere there might be other people. Wasn’t it just.

You’re trained to handle Anoms, aren’t you? You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Are you new?

I’ve been here for months! And… they didn’t cover you that much in training. I knew what your anomaly was, just not the — details, I guess. The doctors were panicking when they heard what happened.

Of course they were. She and Chat Noir were the invulnerables, because he was invulnerable by default and she was never sent out without first Holding him.

And look where that got them.

I need to see him. I have to see his body. I have to pray for him. Not just pray — she had to cry, she had to hug him one last time, she had to apologise for being part of his murder. Without her, he would still… I can’t be here. I have to see him.

I’m sorry. He’s already at the morgue. And you have to stay in bed.

I need to see him. I have to see him.

Can you… put me back? I want to be in my own body. It’s freaky like this…

Wasn’t it just?

“Yeah,” she said aloud, and let the nurse go back to his body. He heaved deeply for air on the floor; she couldn’t see him. She was on her stomach, and couldn’t look over the side of the bed. But she heard his unsteady standing-up, the low curses under his breath, felt the wobbling of the bed as he pushed against the frame.

“I have to see him. Please,” she said aloud, half muffled. “I have to.”

“You have to stay here,” replied the nurse, though he was half broken off by the strain of pushing to his feet and half by his obvious reluctance to say it. “You need to recover. It’s going to be days before you can leave the bed on your own.”

“You’ll have to tie me to it,” she half-growled. Her pain made it difficult to focus anger into her voice, though. She wasn’t even angry. She just needed to see him.

“Please don’t try to leave. Just… wait here, and I’ll get the matron, and… and we’ll see what we can do. About you, and, uh, about Chat Noir.”

She didn’t reply. The matron, at least, would be able to sign her leave, make some arrangements. Who was the matron these days? Was it still Mendeleiev? Her invulnerability through Adrien’s anomaly had kept her away from all the everyday nit-and-grit for so long that she had barely interacted with anyone outside of Adrien and top brass for ages… outside of meetings in the hallways. Traquemoiselle, over the phone.

The nurse left. But the ghost of his mind was still there. Not in any real sense, of course, but every time Ladybug Held someone she Held all of their mind. Their memories and their thoughts stayed with her as, well, memories: a jumbled mess that faded more quickly than hers, but still never left her completely.

And the nurse’s dominant thoughts had been… shock. Betrayal. He thought she had gone rogue — well, if she had, she wouldn’t have Held him. He had nothing that could help her except information, and that information had barely been worth anything. She wanted to Hold… Traquemoiselle, maybe. She could go anywhere she wanted, even if she wouldn’t fix the leg or even help with standing up. Or if she could Hold Drake, she could fly over on wings.

Better yet… if she could Hold T.00, and use their power to observe distant minds…

… except nobody had ever seen T.00. The only reason she knew anything about them, other than that they existed, was because every Akuma she had ever used her anomaly on had known about T.00. They were an Anom, their name was Chrysalis, and that was obviously a code name. They had talked to every Akuma, it seemed, from their distant hideout.

Ugh… she was just dreaming now. She was hoping to see Adrien so badly that she was imagining getting help from the terrorists to get there. And why? It wasn’t like he was even alive anymore. There was no point. She could pray for him here, in the hospital room, except…

… that would be the worst thing she could ever imagine. To never see him again. Even if his throat was cut, even if they’d shot him the same way she shot T.12 and he was full of holes, she still needed to see him.

She turned around on her back with a strain of effort and a wave of agony. As she did so, she heard feet moving closer again in the hallway — several sets of them, though she couldn’t determine how many because of the echoes.

With an abundance of care, she pulled the blanket over herself and waited, somewhat hoping the feet were coming for her. But she noted to her dismay that it sounded like it was only feet: there weren’t any wheels, like a chair or trolley to take her to Adrien.

The feet had been intended for her. Soon, Mendeleiev was in the doorway, and she had several people behind her.

“Ladybug,” she said. “What an unexpected guest to see here again.”

“I need to see Adrien,” said Ladybug. “Please.”

“All in good time,” came the reply, though Mendeleiev made it sound like it wasn’t going to be a good time. Her frown was the same as Ladybug remembered it, as deep and immobile as it had always been. “But first, we have some things to discuss.”

Mendeleiev stepped inside. The people behind her followed. They were Traquemoiselle, who entered the room with a wan smile between her curtains of red hair and a nod for a greeting; a tall and bulky boy who needed to duck away from the doorframe, and whose presence in the room seemed far smaller than his physical body; and a soldier with a gun, decked out in full uniform and with his face covered. He closed the door behind them.

“Firstly. This is Minotaurox,” said Mendeleiv, pointing to the boy. “He’s an Anom and he’s about your age, but his anomaly was only recently discovered. He has an incredibly fast recovery and can heal from any injury, except — we assume — decapitation. You will use your own anomaly to consume him, so you can fix your wounds, because as you know we are unable to perform medicine on you normally.”

Right. Because she’d just swallow up anyone who touched her skin, and even if she already had someone inside the next one to touch her would get swallowed in their place. It was a wonder they had even gotten her into the gown, but she knew they had contraptions for that.

But if she could heal super fast… then she could get to Adrien by herself. This was good.

“Next. You and Minotaurox will team up for the foreseeable future. His anomaly should perform a similar function to Chat Noir’s in supporting your infiltration missions.”

No. No — didn’t they know what just happened? That Adrien died specifically because she had taken his anomaly away from him, that there was an infiltrator who had killed him and who might kill anyone else she Held? Didn’t they realise that the gig was up now? “Matron, with all due respect —”

“This command is from Bourgeois herself. You are our most valuable field agent, Ladybug, and we can’t lose you.”

“But there’s a mole! The Akumas know everything about me, they know whoever I take is vulnerable, and they’ll just send the assassin again!”

Mendeleiev folded her arms while Ladybug spoke, and her response came so fast it might as well have interrupted. “You will not be dispatched on any missions for a while. The recon team will go through what happened, and we’ll implement new safety measures. Nobody will be put at risk until we have a full picture of that situation. Furthermore, Minotaurox’s existence and anomaly will be kept secret. You and Traquemoiselle are so far the only Anoms to know about him, and of the entire organisation only a handful of people are aware of his existence.”

Ladybug looked at him. He seemed so very out of place — not like he didn’t fit in, because where other than here would an Anom fit in? — but like he himself felt that way. He was built like a brick house with padded outside walls and he could probably hold his own in physical combat even without an anomaly, but he didn’t exactly advertise it. Instead, he stood with his arms squeezed together and his head held low.

And he was going to be kept a secret. Poor guy…

“Third,” Mendeleiev continued, “you will be allowed to see Chat Noir’s body tomorrow. He is currently being examined for the nature of his wounds, so we can find out what killed him.”

I wonder if they’ll cut open Chat Noir’s body? — T.12’s words, from right after Adrien died. They treacherously shouted themselves back into her head, almost like she was worried about them being true. But she looked into Mendeleiev’s eyes and thought they couldn’t possibly be. If they were, if there was some kind of medical examination autopsy experimentation stuff going on, then… she, Ladybug, the top agent of the entire organisation, would know about it.

But… why had he sounded like that? Vincent… that was T.14, wasn’t it? T.16? Two weeks ago… his body had been taken in by QG, of course, but that was just a safety measure. It kept the terrorists from doing experiments. And it meant the government had clear evidence of who was dead, so that if someone claimed otherwise to rally supporters QG could prove it with pictures.

Yeah. Nothing was wrong. It couldn’t be. She shouldn’t listen to a liar who was just trying to stall for time, so she wouldn’t notice something was wrong with Adrien. He had just been trying to get under her skin.

And he’d succeeded. But — and Mendeleiev’s eyes were still so sharp — she didn’t dare ask about it. It was a stupid doubt, and Mendeleiev would only disapprove of her for feeding it. She needed to trust that nobody would experiment on him, because nobody would be so cruel. Nobody should be so cruel.

“Is he… at the morgue?” she tried, a question that nonetheless contained pieces of her doubt.

“You’ll be provided with the necessary details tomorrow,” said Mendeleiev. “Now, Minotaurox… are you ready?”

Ladybug swallowed as she looked at him. He looked so reserved, and now that she looked at him again she thought maybe he was reserved because of her. Because of what he had been told he would be doing. Maybe he was nervous about leaving his body behind, even if it was only for a short time. Maybe he was nervous about having his mind probed.

“Yeah,” he said a couple seconds later. “Let’s go.”

“You… should sit down first,” she said, when he started to move closer. “A chair, um… sit down there?” She pointed to the chair on the right side of the bed, her right side, which only had a backrest and nothing to keep him in place if he slumped sideways. But it would at least be safer.

He replied with a mute nod and scrunched-up lips, and followed her directions. She made sure to not have any part of herself too close to him as he sat down; his lumbering form took up a lot of space. The whole time, she still felt the pain from her injuries, but… it didn’t matter so much. It was there, and she had made her peace with that, and according to Mendeleiev it would soon stop being there anyway.

When he’d sat down, he looked at her. She offered him a smile and asked, “Ready?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Good,” she said, and raised her hand towards him, and then —

Hello. You’re inside my head now, she thought, primary level. Outside her head, she saw his body sink together into a big heap; it didn’t fall off the chair, though.

Uh… hello? he replied. His tertiary and even his quaternary thoughts were pulsing with surprise, even though he must have been prepared for this on at least some level. The quaternary ones were a lot weaker, though — which was good.

Just so you’re aware… I can read all your thoughts. You can only hear my — I call them my primary thoughts, the ones I send to you directly. It’s like talking, and you can talk back the same way, but I also hear your tertiary and quaternary thoughts.

His tertiary thoughts did change tacks a little bit. Their loudest ones were just about [wary] and [anxious], and she could feel him trying to hide parts of himself away.

What are tertiary thoughts? he asked, clearly hesitating.

They’re all the thoughts you don’t think on the surface. Like feelings, or idle churning. If you were hungry, for example, I’d know about it.

All the while, she could feel her body knitting itself together. It was incredibly fast, to the point where she could feel parts inside herself moving around; the pain subsided, other than the ghostly pains of that movement.

And… quarternary?

Quaternary. It’s just danger. Fight or flight or freeze, that thing.

She felt him hesitate some more. In her mind’s eye, she saw him twiddling his thumbs nervously; it was pure imagination, but it felt right for him to do something like that.

Why’re my thoughts grouped up? he asked a short while later.

They aren’t really. This is just what I call them, it’s not real or anything… it just makes sense for me to think like that. If I split them into categories, it’s easier to keep track of all the thoughts in my head.

I see, he thought back. Well… hello. I’m Ivan, even’a they call me Minotaurox. You?

I’m Ladybug.

Another pause. You don’t gotta real name?

How unusual. To be engaged in a normal conversation, something that wasn’t related to a mission. She hadn’t had that, inside her mind, for a long time. I do, she thought at him. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m Ladybug more than I’m anything else.

But we’re a team. Teams gotta know each other… right?

He was honest. She’d give him that. And she’d give him kindness and niceties, but she wouldn’t give him Adrien’s place.

We’re not a team yet. They need to find out what happened with Adrien first.

He didn’t think a response. She felt his lower-level thoughts, though, and knew he was uncertain. Maybe even a little scared. In a way, she felt them stronger than her own secondary thoughts.

It’s… nice to meet you, she thought at him. It wasn’t his fault. But there was a fault. I’ll let you out now.

And she pushed him out, and he jolted in his chair, but he still didn’t fall out of it. He watched her with wide eyes.

She tried a little smile. “You can’t talk to me in your head anymore. You have to use your mouth.”

Before he could, though, Mendeleiev cleared her throat. “Are you fully healed, Ladybug?”

“I believe so,” Ladybug replied. If nothing else, the pain had stopped. She didn’t know how Minotaurox’s power worked, but she didn’t feel injured anymore. And if they said it worked, that was probably good enough.

She grabbed her hip and squeezed on it; it didn’t even feel sore. “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine now. Thanks, um,” she turned to Minotaurox again, “thanks, Minotaurox.”

His reply was a nod. But a cautious one. His lips quivered, ever so slightly, like he was scared to speak.

“Good,” said Mendeleiev. “Traquemoiselle, please bring Minotaurox back to his quarters, unseen. Ladybug, you should remain seated a little longer.”

“Got it!” said Traquemoiselle. “Come here, Ivan.” She walked forward towards him and grabbed him as he still sat dazed; with a flash, they disappeared.

And Ladybug just watched. Because she didn’t have anything better to do, not now she had been told to stay still. Not when she had no idea what to say to the poor boy.

Maybe she could have thought about how to word her prayers. But as soon as Traquemoiselle vanished with Minotaurox, Mendeleiev spoke up again. “Ladybug. Come with me to the office. Denis wants a word.”

“Okay,” said Ladybug, knowing that M Damocles was not a man who liked to be kept waiting. She slipped out of bed, and knew immediately that she was fully healed, because there wasn’t even a trace of pain to hitting the floor with her feet this time. Only the chill of wearing nothing but a hospital gown.

Which brought to mind an important question. “Do I need to be dressed?”

Mendeleiev sighed. “Your appearance won’t be important.”

“Okay.” The cold floor was noticeable against the soles of her feet, but she could deal with it for a little while.

Strangely enough, the soldier followed them as they trawled through the corridors. He didn’t point his weapon at either of them, but it was remarkable that he was there — that was something that was usually reserved for captive enemy Anoms.

“Are your memories intact, Ladybug?” said Mendeleiev, suddenly, as they turned a corner.

“… What do you mean?”

“Can you remember the mission?”

“Er…” What a strange question. “Yes? I only just got back from it, right?”

“Correct,” said Mendeleiev, nodding. “Only yesterday. You remember eliminating your target and rescuing a young girl, yes?”

Of course. Nobody else had been there during the mission — nobody currently alive, at least, because Sabrina’s duty was only to get in and get out with whatever was necessary — so she still needed to debrief QG on what happened. The handlers would probably grab her out of her room later today, or maybe even out of Damocles’s office once she was done.

And the young girl was the last thing she remembered seeing before she passed out. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good. Denis will brief you once you get inside.”

They arrived at his door a few minutes later, after leaving the corridor and stepping into the intelligence wing. She didn’t pass by anyone she knew, not other than through face alone, so nobody really gave her a second glance at any point. But she did notice a greater concentration of soldiers inside the wing, with two soldiers waiting directly outside M Damocles’s office.

“I’ll leave you here,” said Mendeleiev. “Please return to the depot with your gown once you have changed into normal clothes.”

“Okay,” said Ladybug.

One of the soldiers pulled the door open. Ladybug stepped inside, and the soldier that had followed all this time kept on following. Inside were four more soldiers, and M Damocles, and… the girl she rescued.

The girl gave her a look of horror. Nobody else seemed to think anything was strange.

“Ladybug,” said Damocles. “Sit down.” He indicated the wooden chair right in front of his desk, which was empty and also some distance away from everyone else: the girl was pushed off into a corner, sitting on her own chair, and the soldiers stood along the walls. One of them had their hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Sir,” said Ladybug. She shifted her gown slightly so that the slit wouldn’t be right under her, and then she sat down.

Damocles sighed. “Ladybug. Yesterday’s mission was a blow to our national security.” He spoke as though he had been handed a pre-written statement that he didn’t really care about. “We still have unanswered questions about what happened, and we’re endeavouring to answer them so we can prevent it from happening again.”

“Sir.” He had yet to say anything about Adrien — about how sorry he was for what happened, about how tragic it was to lose Adrien, about how Adrien could never be replaced. But she didn’t dare to reprimand him over that, so she just gritted her teeth slightly behind her lips.

“However. You also brought in a very different question. The prisoner you asked us to bring back… she is an enigma to us.”

They both looked aside at the girl. She furrowed her eyebrows at them.

“We have tried to interrogate her about who she is, and why she was held there, but she has refused to tell us anything. She has only told us she doesn’t know anything.”

“I don’t know anything,” said the girl, obviously irritated.

“Your anomaly, however, can tell us what we need to know,” Damocles went on, ignoring the interruption. “If you use it on her, you can retrieve any information you want from her memories. Who she is, if she’s a terrorist, why she was captured…”

“I’m not a terrorist!”

Ladybug looked aside at her. She seemed to be deeply indignant. There was no reason to doubt that she wasn’t a terrorist, of course, but it was a matter of safety to make absolutely certain.

“Sir,” said Ladybug a third time, and got to her feet.

“I’m not!” said the girl. She seemed to want to jolt out of her chair, but the soldier’s hand held her in place. Her copper eyes glowed with fear and anger.

How had she been treated? Ladybug knew from experience that the intel officers weren’t always gentle. They could be very loud about getting what they wanted and very difficult if they didn’t hear what they expected to hear, and that was with their own Anoms. The past… at least sixteen, maybe more, judging by the light that spilled in through Damocles’s window… hours must have been unpleasant for her. Not to mention the soldiers that were everywhere right now.

This girl… she was in her early teens, and yet she’d been taken prisoner by the Akumas. And she wasn’t a government agent, either, because if she were then QG wouldn’t have held her in custody or needed to interrogate her. Which suggested she was an Anom, because nothing else would make it make sense that she was a captive like this.

She really didn’t look dangerous, though. She couldn’t be older than fifteen, which meant she was around the same age as Ladybug, but she was just dressed in regular clothes. A high-waisted pleated skirt, a white jacket, a black shirt with a popped collar, that wasn’t a uniform of any sort Ladybug was aware of. Black hair, an expression that was confused and upset at the same time. Bright copper eyes that seemed hyper-aware of her surroundings.

“I’m going to touch you,” said Ladybug. “On the shoulder.”

The girl’s gaze intensified. “Is anything going to happen to me?”

“Yes,” said Ladybug. “But it’s not dangerous.” Only weird.

“Ladybug is very good at getting into people’s heads,” said Damocles.

He thought that, because he wasn’t inside her head, and he never had been. Honestly, it was the opposite. She was very good at taking other people into her own head. Truthfully, she had never been able to get into someone else’s, because their experience inside her head was always different from what it would be in their own bodies. The only person that she felt she’d known was…

… Adrien.

She frowned and stepped closer, reaching out her hand.

“I don’t want to be messed with,” said the girl. Her agitation was clear.

But Ladybug closed the distance with one final step and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, no, on the girl’s neck, because she’d shifted to try and get away, and —

— she knew immediately. Something was wrong. She looked into the girl’s eyes and knew that there would be no exchange of thoughts.

She gulped. “M Damocles. Sir. She is an Anom.”

“Really?” he said, with no small amount of excitement.

“Yes. And her anomaly is… she’s immune to mine.”

Because the girl’s eyes were open. And her mind was still in her own body. And Ladybug kept her arm on the girl’s neck, because this touch was the first she could remember ever resisting her.

Chapter Text

“Ready?” asked the soldier.

How would she even reply? ‘I don’t know’ would be the most correct answer, but it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear a clear and unambiguous ‘Yes’, and that was an answer she didn’t want to give: Minotaurox’s anomaly, in her brief experience, was so very different from Adrien’s.

And she honestly wasn’t ready to have Minotaurox inside her head, but that was a different question. Yet there he was, lurking in Adrien’s spot.

I’m sorry, he thought, and even through a thought he managed to murmur.

You’re sorry for what?

I hated when they did this to me.

“Ready,” she said aloud. And then, in her head, What do you mean?

But she didn’t really need to be told by him. Not anymore. Because the moment she was done with that thought, the soldier fired his gun. It pierced her straight through the gut and she doubled over, screaming.

That, thought Minotaurox. He clearly figured that that was all that had to be said, and frankly he was right. Her entire torso pulsed with agony, and it felt like her stomach was on fire, and then — it became less so. Even though she couldn’t feel the specifics of the healing, she felt that it was happening through the reduction of pain and through the way her stomach stopped having a hole in it. Through the way she suddenly had a bullet in her hands, slick with blood.

The soldier fired again, twice, while she was still bent over. He hit her in the shin and in the shoulder and she fell fully to the ground, and her scream came out as just pained whimpers. Adrien had protected her — his anomaly had made it so she didn’t feel any pain, but now every bullet pierced her and she could feel every millimetre of flesh that got torn apart, could sense her bones cracking under the impacts.

I’m sorry, thought Minotaurox again. Not just primary level, but his tertiary level was run through with the same apology. It really sucks.

She couldn’t focus her thoughts enough to reply. There was too much pulsating inside her. A red-smeared bullet, pushed out from its healing wound, clattered to the gravel at her side. She was rolled up into a ball on the ground.

Five more shots. Her hip, her back, her back again, her neck, and her shoulder, and this time she screamed again. But only for the first bullet, because the others just struck the air out from her and left her heaving and sobbing.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“Ladybug,” said the handler. His voice rang out sharp and jagged into the midday air. “You are a field operative. When you get wounded, you have to be able to keep fighting, or you can’t accomplish anything.”

She didn’t respond. She just breathed deep, ragged, wet. And then the breaths became just deep and ragged, and then just deep.

“You have to be able to function even when grievously injured. The terrorists won’t just have firearms, either. They’ll have explosives. Knives. Grenades with shrapnel. Poisonous gas. If a single bullet is enough to incapacitate you, you can’t do anything to an entire posse of reprobates with machine guns.”

I’m sorry. Minotaurox was insistent, but not pointed. It was like he was cooing at her, trying to get her to relax.

“Every wound heals,” the handler continued. She imagined the sight of him standing there behind the soldier, arms folded, eyebrows gritted, mouth half opened into a sneer whenever he wasn’t talking. She had encountered him before during debriefings, and she had thought him okay enough then, but the image she saw in her mind’s eye now was anything but. “Minotaurox handled this a lot better than you. You have a long way to go before you’re ready to go into the field again.”

The field. She had a duty. She had to help take out the terrorists.

Slowly, she pushed to her feet again. The pain subsided, fading to just a memory instead. She looked down at the ground and saw several spatters of crimson, several bloodied bullets. If she bothered to count, the amount of bullets down there was probably the same as the number of holes she remembered torn into her flesh.

She heaved another deep breath, and stared the soldier straight down. “I’m ready,” she said.

He answered by shooting her through the eye.

🗬 || 🗭

It was an hour later. She was barely returned to her room after the session, which had mostly consisted of being shot, then getting shouted at for reacting poorly to being shot. They had also broken her elbows with a baseball bat, several times, and generally before the first break had even healed all the way.

The pain was technically gone. Minotaurox’s recovery anomaly was incredible, and every injury they had given her had been repaired within seconds. But the memory of pain rang inside her skull like ten thousand bells. It was like her mind was sore, like her soul itself had scars. There was no soul inside her, of course, but this was the closest she had come to being convinced that one existed: a conglomeration of horrible memories that she was almost sure existed beyond her body.

As she dropped backwards into bed, and exhaled, she felt Minotaurox again. How are you doing? he thought at her, meekly.

“Just swell,” she said aloud, with no small amount of sarcasm. That sarcasm faded quickly, though. “Just… swell…”

… Am I allowed to talk to you even if you don’t answer with your thoughts?

He was so considerate. Next to the handler and the soldier, she thought he must be an angel.

“Yes,” she said. “I just like using my voice when I can.”

Okay. Thanks, he thought back.

She’d retained him on the handler’s orders. ‘You have to do it,’ he had told her, and that meant she needed to comply, even though she really wanted to be alone right now. She wasn’t exactly great company when her head was this exhausted; not to mention, when her head was this exhausted, other people weren’t great company either.

She glanced at the wall clock. 15:31, just under half an hour until she could let him go. Not that she had any wounds left for his anomaly to fix.

So… how are you doing? he thought again.

“I don’t need to be babied.”

I didn’t mean to baby you. I just know what it feels like —

“No, you don’t,” she said, gritting her teeth. “The handler said you didn’t struggle at all.”

I did struggle. I struggled less, though. He paused for a moment. She sensed his tertiary level thoughts as a ball of [apprehension]. I’m bigger than you. More fat. It’s easier to get shot when you have fat to cushion it, but… it still hurt, you know.

A pang of guilt shot through her, albeit one that was a lot weaker than all the other pangs that had shot through her today. He was just trying to be nice, now that she held his mind inside hers. It was just friendly talk, and she was angry at him for it, and he probably didn’t deserve it. This was only the second day they’d known each other, and they hadn’t talked much yet, but everything she’d seen of him and heard from him suggested he was a good and kind person. Even his lower level thoughts were considerate.

“So… when did you get recruited?” she asked, her voice annoyingly weak.

I think… twelve days ago. It’s hard to keep track of time where I’ve been living.

Twelve days. That was almost nothing. She had been here for over six years at this point… or was it over seven? More? There were memories in her head of growing up before all this, of being four or five or six years old and being doted on by parents, but it was hard to pick out which of those were hers and which belonged to other people.

Right now, she had childhood memories that she could clearly identify as Minotaurox’s, but all the others could be hers or they could be Adrien’s or they could be the nurse’s, or they could belong to any of the hundreds of other people she had Held in her life. She remembered a great many more things than she could’ve had days to experience them in.

Once upon a time, she’d had a clear memory of her parents’ faces — had been able to see them when she closed her eyes. But she couldn’t even remember when that ‘once upon a time’ was.

The only memory from ‘before’ that she knew for sure was hers was one of touching an empty-faced parent and the parent falling to the floor. It had to be hers, because that was what happened when she touched people, but she didn’t know anything else about it. Her age… lost to time. But she must have been recruited soon after.

That’s what happened with all Anoms. Taken in by the government for research and defence purposes, because any anomaly could be dangerous to the general public. After all, if her bare skin — any part of it — came into contact with someone, she would steal them out of their body. That would be a problem for anyone, let alone people who didn’t know about it beforehand.

It was dangerous for Adrien, too. Because the terrorists had taken his life, and it was their fault but it was also hers.

She hadn’t been able to see him yet. That was yet another indignity, but she had made her peace with it. At some point later in the day, she would be allowed to go see his body, and all she was waiting for was the message go.

“I see,” she said. “You’ve only just developed your anomaly, then?”

Maybe, he thought. I maya had it for a while. Don’t think I injured myself bad enough I woulda noticed.

“So what made you notice?”

Car crash. Mum died.

Just like that. Not even a hint of sorrow. Was he afraid to show emotions, maybe? There was no hint in his tertiary thoughts, either. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she whispered, quietly.

It’s fine. She was a terrorist. Amok.

“Oh.”

Some Anoms weren’t corralled by the government. They were taken in by terrorists instead, if the government didn’t find them in time. And if that happened… the Anom in question was a lost cause. They were marked for death, put on the T list. Anomalies were so powerful that in the wrong hands, they could cause mass death, destroy infrastructure, become instruments of incredible terror.

“I’m glad you didn’t get caught up in terrorism with her,” she replied.

She talked about you sometimes, he thought back at her. She was scareda you, actually. Said there was a young girl who’d killed more people than an entire army. Touched them and stole their souls. He paused for a moment. I’m glad you’re not like that, though.

Of course. Ladybug, the most feared agent in the government’s service. It was weird to hear all of that said with such a gentle tone. “I… have killed a lot of people, though,” she said. “I killed someone just two days ago. An Akuma.”

But you don’t steal souls. And you’re not evil.

“Right.”

It was still weird that he cared so little about his parents, though. His tertiary thoughts hadn’t been upset about losing his mum or being taken away from his dad. Admittedly, she barely ever thought about her parents, either — even their names, the place they lived, were gone from her mind — but he wasn’t even two weeks out from the last time he saw his mother. Then again, terrorists…

She briefly felt terrible again. Sorry, she thought at him. I started reading your thoughts without asking.

There was a moment where she felt his discomfort. It wasn’t great, but it was there. Then he thought, Okay. Don’t you kinda hafta?

I can just let it slide by. Sort of. I don’t have to read every thought even though it’s in my head. I meant I kind of did it on purpose.

Okay. Why’re you thinking at me?

I sometimes like not using my voice.

He didn’t think anything primary at that. Instead, he seemed to relax. Maybe he was getting used to this, just like Adrien did back in the day.

Adrien…

The room’s speaker suddenly crackled to life. She sat up as though her bed was on fire. “Ladybug. You may now report to the morgue,” said a voice that was so thin and jangly, so derelicted by its transport through the wires, that it could have belonged to anyone.

But that didn’t matter. She flew to her feet, put on her shoes, ran towards the door — caught herself with her hand on the knob, dashed back inside for her prayer kit, knocked a case folder on the floor but ignored it, and didn’t even close the door as she tore off towards the medical building. The soldiers in waiting outside — three of them — raised their voices at her, but she couldn’t wait.

She was too late. She wasn’t the first to see him, and he might already have been reborn. Two days had passed since he passed. But she had to go.

Is this… about Adrien? thought Minotaurox.

Yes, she thought back. I’ll finally get to see him again. The last thought slipped out of her, misplaced from the secondary to the primary level.

But he’s dead, thought Minotaurox.

“Yes,” she said aloud, irritably. “He is. I want to see him.”

… Okay. I guess.

What did he know? He was only just brought in. He hadn’t spent years with Adrien. He might be nice enough in his own way but he was nothing in comparison.

I’m going to see him, she repeated. And you’re only here because I was told to keep you.

He thought back, I didn’t mean —

I’m going to see him.

No response. And she didn’t want to even think about his tertiary, quaternary level thoughts. She let them float around by themselves, unbidden and unread, and rushed further down the corridors.

She came to a stop outside the mortuary only because the door was locked. The guard told her he couldn’t let her through without permission from the warden; she thought it would be very strange if she were called in without the warden’s permission. Then again, the speaker message would only have been sent to her room, not to this guard checkpoint. So she folded her arms and waited, her hand finding the carved-wood bajixiang in the prayer kit sack, and said a quick prayer for patience.

A patience that was immediately tested. Because an out-of-breath voice behind her called out “Ladybug!” and she turned to see the three soldiers from before, approaching down the hall.

“Yes?” she said.

“You mustn’t —” started one, coming to a stop in front of her. “You can’t just run away! You are to be — kept under close surveillance at all times.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Close surveillance? Is that why you’ve been standing outside my room?”

“Of course. Chat — Chat Noir was attacked on the premises,” he was still heaving for breath, “and you might also be in danger.”

She turned away from him. The name ‘Chat Noir’ was not to be spoken so callously. Today, it should only be spoken with the respect that ought to be afforded him.

“You must have an escort everywhere you go,” the soldier insisted. “That’s an order from high command. Got it?”

“I heard you the first time.”

“You have to listen to orders!”

The door opened. The guard stepped through. “Ladybug?” he said, “You can come inside. You have twenty minutes.”

Grateful for the interruption, she stepped forward. “Thank you,” she said, and completely ignored the soldiers — though she knew they would follow her inside. The less she acknowledged them, the less they would bother her.

The morgue was even less familiar to her than the hospital ward. But the guard led her through sterile, brightly-lit white corridors with locked, windowless steel doors until they reached one particular room, where the door was slightly ajar. “In here,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, and he turned to walk back to his post. She clutched the sack tighter, breathed in deep. But when she put her hand on the door, she froze still.

Adrien was inside. He was gone, it was just his body, but even so — she would see him. She would see the boy who had been her closest partner and confidante for years. The one who had been inside her head so much that she had occasionally forgotten when he wasn’t there and tried to talk to him anyway. He was just a shell now, but she would have to look at that shell. It was ghastly, perverse. But necessary.

It wasn’t for him, and she knew that. The prayer she made for him now would be for her own sake.

She set her jaw and pushed the door open, and saw…

… not Adrien. Not first, not his body alone on some kind of surface. The first thing she saw was the girl from yesterday, and only when the girl turned towards her a few moments later did she realise that there was a metal trolley there too. And on that trolley lay Adrien’s body, but —

“What are you doing here?” said Ladybug. This wasn’t right. She was required to get permission to come inside. Adrien was her friend and partner. This was her moment with him. But this girl was just an interloper.

The girl turned to look at her. Slowly, like she wanted to be frustrating about it. After far too long, she was finally fully looking at Ladybug and said, “Is there anything wrong?”

“No,” said Ladybug, and gripped so tight around the leather of her bag that she knew her knuckles had to be completely white. “I’m here to see my friend. Don’t disturb me.”

She felt Minotaurox’s thoughts spiking a little at that. So she hurriedly thought at him, I was talking to her, not you, but he didn’t respond.

“I see,” said the girl and pulled back. “I’ll give you space.”

Even more frustratingly, she didn’t leave the room. She only stepped backwards to stand against the wall, clasping her hands against her front.

But Ladybug did her best to ignore her. Adrien was the important part of this. He was what she needed to focus on, and…

… when she saw him fully, spread out in front of her, she almost shattered completely. Looking straight down at his bone-white face with the eyes closed, not open and green and happy like they always were in life, that alone stabbed her heart deep and jagged. But then she saw the scrape across the lower half of his face, left as though with claws; she saw the hole that had been carved into his chest, straight into his heart. It was like someone had stuck a sword right through his conscious-less body, but a sword that was as thick as it was broad, something almost round that had nonetheless gouged out what he needed to live.

It was cruelty manifest. It was cowardice. It was horrible to see, and she broke into tears once she had taken in the full extent of his corpse — no, even before she was finished, because her vision swam as soon as she saw the scraped-out heart.

He had been cleaned, and his body lay peacefully. The morticians had done what they could to make him look not dreadful, but the gashes and the hole were still there.

She knew the first thought that assaulted her, once she was past the shock and the horror, was against the doctrines. It was a lust for revenge, to find whoever did this and dig out their heart, to scream at their lifeless body as their thoughts faded from her head. To her shame, she entertained it for a little while, just the mental image of performing violence — perhaps the same violence she had performed on the T in that forsaken place where she heard Adrien’s thought vanish into nothingness.

But it wouldn’t matter. Anattā. Anicca. Anattā. Anicca. No matter what, Adrien was gone, reborn into something new. He was at peace from this life, because another life would have started — or he was still in bardo, but if so he was at peace as he waited for his next destined life. Whatever he became, or had become… she would no longer know him, and she had to be fine with that. And her prayer was to calm herself, not to save him from a bad rebirth, because whatever he became was determined by his actions in life and not by intercessionary words.

Yeah.

He was probably, or would probably become, a human of importance. His kindness and warm nature must make him worthy of a good rebirth, although… likely not a final rest in Nirvana. He had killed too many people for that, and helped her kill many more. Even if they were bad people, it was bad for the conscious to be part in their deaths. She knew that her own karma was dreadful, and that she would suffer for it in the harvest, but she had made her peace with that.

Adrien’s last thoughts were not at peace, however. They were stormy and muddled and scared. She could only hope that his final transition, once he faded from her head, had been as gentle as him.

Poor guy, thought Minotaurox, but she ignored him. More important things were afoot.

Drawing her sleeve across her damp face, she breathed out and took out her bajixiang and her jar of incense, and the small golden bodhisattva statue. She placed them carefully down next to Adrien, took out a match, and lit the incense. The scent was… strange, in this place that smelled of aluminium and formaldehyde, but she still felt them guide her thoughts towards her goal.

“May your next life be prosperous and calm,” she said and closed her eyes. Unlike this one, where he was held in this large facility and used as a weapon for the government; where justice had to be done at the cost of his own peace and, ultimately, life.

“May your past life flow from your hands like sand, to be forgotten.” Anattā. Anicca. He did not believe in reincarnation, but that could not remove him from samsara. His next life might be one where he believed. It might be one where he could finally attain the ultimate goal.

She sniffed. She was too attached. He was gone but she was bound to him nonetheless. Anicca, anicca, anicca. There was a clump in her throat and a clump in her brain, and she knew she didn’t have any more words of her own to give. So she went into her memories and dug for a finished prayer instead, and found only a single verse:

“By the power of every moment of your goodness: may your heart’s wishes be soon fulfilled, as completely shining as the bright full moon, as magically as by a wish-fulfilling gem.”

She said it aloud. And then she broke into choked sobs again, careless to the fact there were soldiers watching her from the doorway, a stranger staring at her from the wall, a mind hosted within hers. They would all see everything she did and hear every noise she made.

But he was gone. He was mutilated and dead and gone and she was allowed to mourn him, because she was still here and she was the one who felt. Maybe if she cried enough, her bondage to his memory would melt and pour out her eyes as well.

Nobody else said anything. Or did anything. Even Minotaurox remained quiet, as the incense mockingly filled her clogging nostrils. He was gone and she was alone, and that was how things would have to be from now on. Just the way they had to be.

Just… had to be.

I’m sorry, Minotaurox thought eventually. He must have meant a lot to you.

… He did, she thought back. And she wanted to be upset with him for being so obvious, for being inconsiderate enough to take Adrien’s place in her brain, but she couldn’t. Because he was too kind, too gentle, and it reminded her too much of Adrien in all the least helpful ways. She couldn’t shout at him to leave her alone, because he didn’t deserve it.

Were you… in love? he asked, and —

— no. She could be upset with him after all. I’m sending you back to your own body, she thought.

Did I say something wr—

He was out. His thought, the last word and whatever else would follow in its wake, would be ringing out inside his own skull now — or perhaps it would have gone out his mouth if he got his wires crossed in transfer. It didn’t matter. She grabbed the bajixiang and stuffed it back in her prayer bag, then blew out the incense.

“That was a pretty prayer,” said the girl.

Of course she was still here. There was no way to send her away, because she was here with her own physical body, and apparently with permission.

Ladybug frowned at her. “Why are you here,” she said.

“I wanted to pay my respects,” said the girl, and Ladybug almost laughed out loud. Why would a stranger care?, but then —

“I heard he died because of the people who captured me,” the girl continued. “I didn’t know him, but I thought it was worthwhile to visit him. In a way, he died to rescue me.”

“No, he didn’t,” said Ladybug, through gritted teeth.

“It feels meaningful to think he did, I think,” said the girl.

“No. It doesn’t.” He died for nothing. The rescue was incidental. Nobody got to claim his death was for them, because it was a pointless death and the only takeaway was that it was her fault for not sending him back, for leaving his body alone and unattended.

The girl didn’t respond immediately. She just stared, her bright brown eyes almost mocking in their inquisitiveness.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said a little while later.

“How did you get in here?” said Ladybug, almost growling.

“I asked to come in.”

“I’m QG’s top agent. You were brought in two days ago and Intelligence doesn’t know anything about you. I needed special permission to come in and I have three soldiers tailing me.”

“I also have someone tailing me,” said the girl, nodding aside to the group of them.

Ladybug glanced aside. Suddenly, there were four soldiers — and she realised she must have just walked past him earlier and not noticed, in her confusion over seeing the girl.

“Okay. But how did you get inside before me?” she said, a little less confrontational this time out of pure confusion. “I ran over the moment I got the call.”

“There was a call?” said the girl, raising her eyebrows. “I took the trip because I was just done with my interrogation.”

“But…”

… what was there even to say? The girl didn’t have any control over what was going on. She, more than Ladybug, maybe just as much as Minotaurox, was just a small thing buffetted by the waves of this conflict.

“… okay,” murmured Ladybug.

“I’m Kagami,” said the girl, stretching out her hand across Adrien’s body. “I can thank you for saving me, at least.”

Kagami. That wasn’t an Anom’s name. But Ladybug still stretched out her hand to take Kagami’s, and then jolted as she realised she didn’t have gloves on and would steal Kagami’s mind out of her head, and then — she relaxed, because Kagami had some kind of anomaly that made her immune to that.

Their hands met. It was a bizarre sensation, to feel someone else’s pads and furrows against her own. To feel the resistance of someone gripping back.

“Ladybug,” she said. “Haven’t you received a proper name yet?”

“Proper name?” Kagami scoffed. “You mean Ryuuko? That’s not my proper name. That’s what they,” she nodded meaningfully towards the soldiers again, “want to call me, but I know who I am.”

“Ryuuko.”

“Don’t call me that,” snapped Ryuuko. “I’m Kagami.”

But… QG’s word mattered. They were in charge, they were literally part of the government. If the government couldn’t decide who you were, then why were they the government?

For now, though, maybe appeasement would help. “Okay,” she said.

Ryuuko furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m Kagami,” she emphasised.

“I heard you —”

“So why aren’t you telling me your real name?”

“I’m Ladybug,” said Ladybug, hesitating slightly between the words. “That’s my name.”

“Right,” said Ryuuko. “So you’re brainwashed.”

Ladybug frowned. “I’m not brainwashed. I’m a top agent. QG trusts me.”

“They trust you enough to have three men follow you around with machine guns,” replied Ryuuko. She shook her head and sighed. “Either way, I’m grateful that you rescued me. Bye for now.”

And she bowed, and turned to walk out of the room. One of the soldiers did follow her, but seemed awkward about it. Ladybug was left behind by Adrien’s side — with only the slowly fading scent of incense to keep her company.

Chapter Text

Ladybug woke up.

She had barely been out for a moment, maybe a few seconds, by the way her body felt. But that didn’t make things any easier. Her ears were an incessant, overwhelming screech. Everything hurt like nothing she had ever known, and she was vaguely frustrated — not even horrified, not anymore — about how often she needed to think that thought.

… Ladybug? Are you okay? thought Minotaurox. For all she knew, he’d asked her a couple of times.

“No,” she mumbled back, and immediately went into the most tormentous cough of her life. The dust still hadn’t settled. She tried to flutter her eyes open and could feel the tissue in them stitching itself together again. They’d been almost burnt clean out of her. Not for the first time, she found herself simultaneously grateful towards Minotaurox for his anomaly, and angry with him because if he didn’t have it, this wouldn’t be happening to her.

But she was doing okay. Almost okay. Beyond the twisted ball of remembered pain inside her mind, which wasn’t okay but also wasn’t worth thinking about, she also had a physical part that didn’t feel okay: her right leg. More specifically, she didn’t feel it, or she felt a lot of pain but it just… stopped, somewhere around the middle.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her leg was… torn off, at the knee, pieces of shrapnel lodged in the loose shin which lay around five feet away.

“My… my leg…” she mumbled, almost completely forgetting about the pain, at least on a conscious level. She had lost a piece of her body, despite Minotaurox’s recovery. That horrible mine she’d stepped on — the mine the handlers put out for her — the mine, the leg —

It’s fine, thought Minotaurox. You’re fine.

It’s not fine, she thought back, and the thought was shrill. It’s not — how is this fine? I’ll have to walk with a cane — I’ll never be an agent again — I’m crippled —

You’re fine. Just grab the leg and put it onna stump.

What?

Put it onna stump.

Either she was starting to trust him, or she was just so baffled by the sight before her that she was extremely suggestible. Either way, she inched over and grabbed for the loose leg — it was still warm, still leaking streaks of blood from where it had been cut off, still covered in burns — and she touched it to her now-half leg, like that was a sensible thing to do.

She felt it as she saw it. The flesh and tendons, the blood vessels and the skin, fused together again. It was a distant thing in her mind now that she was hurting, not because it didn’t hurt but because all her attention was on the thing that was happening here and now: she was being put together again. Minotaurox could even fix severed limbs.

As the actual pain faded, and the shin and foot firstly rejoined her body and next fixed themselves like the rest of her, she thought in a half-daze: What would have happened if… if the leg had been torn into tiny pieces?

Dunno, he thought back. Never tried. Maybe you’d grow a new one.

“Right,” she said, and pushed to her feet again. She didn’t trust any assessment that started with ‘dunno’ and ‘maybe’.

The rest of the obstacle course stretched out before her. There would probably be more mines, as well as hidden gunmen. She was going to suffer a whole lot of pain before she could call it a day, and while she strongly disliked that she was somehow at the point where all this pain was just… behind her… she also knew she was going to have to keep going into it. Because she needed to be ready for the field again.

Even so, as she spotted the glint of a muzzle in the distance… she knew she didn’t want to go about this like she was being expected to.

She was going to learn how to never get hit again.

🗬 || 🗭

You know you could send me back now, thought Minotaurox.

“Yeah,” said Marinette. She was folding up clothes in her room; it was over half an hour since they’d gotten back after their session. “Do you want to be sent back?”

He thought about it for a little while; his tertiary level was best summarised as [hmm]. Eventually, he went to primary level with Nah. My room’s boring.

“Yeah…”

At present, their schedule was that she met him in a secluded room, Held him, and then went in for training. Training lasted for between one and two hours, and then she kept him in her head for half an hour longer, and then she released him back to his body. Other than that, his room was locked from the outside and under close guard, at least according to Traquemoiselle.

Mendeleiev had suggested he would be kept a secret from almost everyone. That certainly seemed to be the case, because Ladybug didn’t even know where his room was. Traquemoiselle went over there each time to teleport him out, and she also teleported his empty body back to his room as soon as Ladybug had grabbed hold of him. Nobody went into the meeting room except the three of them, and Traquemoiselle suggested there were guards by where Minotaurox slept but that mostly, the secret was kept by the room being secluded and locked.

“I can understand that,” said Ladybug, without any actual knowledge to back that up. But she saw no reason to disbelieve the boringness of his room. Her own wasn’t scintillating, either, though it was serviceable. “What’s your room like?”

Boring. Like… really boring.

“What makes it boring?”

Bed. Chair. No windows. Lamp. Tiny bathroom anna shower.

“That’s all you have?” she asked, almost keening in her surprise. She had an open door and a window, despite the soldiers that now guarded her wherever she went; she had floor space and a tiny book shelf with eight books, and some decorations. She also had a guitar, for all the good it had ever done her. Don’t you have anything to do in there?

I have books, he said. A few books. Decka cards too. I play Solitaire. Wish I coulda had some’n thinky.

Thinky? Like chess?

No. Like… thinking about making stuff. I wanna make stuff.

Making stuff. What a weird thing to dream about in the government facility where the government was training them to kill and destroy. They weren’t meant to make stuff here, they were meant to prune the bad stuff so other people could make a nicer place to live in their wake.

That said… it was nice to think of Minotaurox making something. It made sense, with him being so gentle, with his anomaly being about healing. Re-creation, building things back healthy. He could be part of making the nicer world, because that felt right.

Not like her anomaly. Which was only meant for — kidnapping. Killing. Stealing things away. She was uniquely suited to her job and that job was killing terrorists, not healing injuries.

I like… making stuff, she thought.

What do you like to make?

No, I meant to say that — I mean think that — I meant I like the idea of making stuff. I hope you get to try it.

You don't make stuff yourself? he thought, ignoring her fumble. Maybe he was being courteous with her.

She shook her head. Which was — also a fumble, because shaking the head was a gesture meant for other people who could see you, but technically he might be able to guess she'd done that. After all, he saw through her eyes and heard with her ears, so he might have caught on — but just to be sure she also thought: No. I don’t. I'm not meant to make.

Oh, he thought. Then, Okay. And then, I don’t think that's true.

His kindness. His naïve, childish kindness. “I'm a destroyer,” she said. “Not a maker. But you should make. I'll bring you something so you can make someth— I'll fix it so you can make things. I promise.”

He hesitated. She felt it, his nervous fear, as it rustled through him like a wind sweeping leaves. And then he thought, Okay.

And she hated it. Because it reminded her even more clearly that she was that destroyer. She frightened him, even when she didn't want to, because to frighten was to destroy a feeling of safety. Unlike Adrien, Minotaurox wasn't invulnerable; she could hurt him, she would hurt him over and over. And he would feel the pain of it just like she felt the pain of bullets.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured. “I'll send you back now.”

… Did I think something wrong?

Destroyer. Asura. Ladybug. No. But it's for your safety. If you're away from your body and someone tries to kill you… it's best if you're protected.

She could tell he didn’t believe her. But it was true, wasn't it? What if the assassin was still out there? She had already killed Adrien and she didn't want to also be responsible for killing Minotaurox. He was too precious and inexperienced to die. He must live on to the after-time.

But she kept him in her head a little longer. She would be sending him back to loneliness and isolation. There was just no other way around it.

And she would find a way to let him make things. Yeah.

She didn’t read his lower level thoughts in that silence. But just as she let go of him, he started a thought on his primary level, cut off right at the start: M—

Then he was gone. And she was left alone herself, in a room that felt cavernous despite its size. And she knew that by the time of their meeting tomorrow, she would forget to ask what he had been about to say.

🗬 || 🗭

She looked out her window a lot that evening. It wasn’t that there was anything interesting to see — the facility was always drab and full of concrete and metal and stark lamps — the most eye-catching thing within that expanse would be whenever a soldier or group of soldiers walked by. Perhaps an allied Anom would accompany them; she caught sight of Traquemoiselle and Mendeleiev at some point, along with a small group of armed uniforms. Which was fine, but not really a point of note.

Instead, what she looked to was the distant sunset. It wasn’t the real sunset, because there were tall buildings in the way of where it would cross the horizon, but she still saw it vanish behind those rooftops and then she saw the colours of the sky change into red, purple, black. It was beautiful, in a way she hadn’t really thought about before, because she had never before thought there might be people who didn't get to see it. Now that she knew, she felt obligated to appreciate what she had.

And as she saw the sky lose its colours, she knew that — if she thought it would be safe — she would take Minotaurox into herself and bring him to see this sunset. So he could see it, so he could be inspired to make.

Then, once she turned away from the darkening dusk and back to the ground… she saw Ryuuko. Walking, at apparent first by herself, but soon it became clear there was a soldier tailing her. For whatever reason, that tail was very long. Wasn’t she still supposed to be under suspicion? Or had they interrogated her all they needed to?

The days were honestly merging together now. Every day since Adrien died was spent getting shot at and mutilated and it was all just… a blur, honestly. She could remember yesterday but she couldn’t remember how many yesterdays there had been since she started training with Minotaurox. Maybe it made sense for Ryuuko to have that amount of freedom. Maybe she wasn’t a danger, or maybe she had become fully integrated as an Anom agent by now. Maybe it was all fine that a brand new person on the grounds had that much freedom. But it was weird.

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at the girl. Even so, even in spite of her suspicion, the strongest feeling she had when seeing that dark hair and those freckled cheeks moving by in the distance… was curiosity. The anomaly. The freedom. The way she spoke and the way she glared.

The way it was possible to hold her hand without it going limp and cold from the moment they touched.

How would Ryuuko’s room look? Did she even have one?

In a sense, the decision was made without Ladybug’s input. Like so many other decisions, but this one was close enough to herself that she could choose whether or not to act on it. And she knew she wanted to.

She was going to ask Ryuuko where she slept. Because in this facility, outside someone’s room, nobody was ever truly alone, and for her curiosity’s sake… they needed to be by themselves.

Chapter Text

While she was rarely impatient — because her duty and her living situation had more or less forced her not to be — Ladybug did think it was strange that Traquemoiselle was taking so long to return with Minotaurox.

It was almost twenty minutes past the scheduled time now. Twenty minutes that the handlers would likely be angry with her over, but that was another thing she had been required to lose her impatience about. If they shouted at her, so be it.

She’d spent that time thinking about art. It was entirely theoretical: she wasn’t meant for art. But if she were… if she were allowed to exist once there was peace, without endangering everyone around her… she had dreamt of what that art might be.

Painting or drawing, maybe. She had lots of images in her head — memories to be sure, both those that might be her own and those that belonged to other people, but she also often imagined other things that might be. That hadn’t been, but might. If she could twist her weapon-clutching hands into ones that could hold a brush or pencil, and force them to paint with colours other than red, she could show those images to other people.

Or maybe she could write. Her head was full of words all the time; they were not pretty words, they might frighten people, but she might still make art with them. She could tell people about Adrien in poems or stories, and maybe — in this impossible scenario where she made art, maybe, hypothetically, the art she made could reach Adrien’s new existence. That new existence could hear the words she said about him and be enlightened or reassured.

Maybe she could make music, with that guitar she had — she had no idea why it was there, its entry into her room was lost in a muddle of memories — and she had tried to play it but failed. But with time and practice, perhaps she could also play music. Or she could design clothes, or build buildings, or…

… or she could do nothing. She would do nothing. She had nothing to offer except destruction, until after her rebirth.

She took a look around the room. It was small and sparse, with a desk and a single chair; there was one blinded window and one unassuming door. The walls were completely bare, painted a greyish blue that was also reflected in the ceiling but not the browner linoleum floor.

Of course it wasn’t a room anyone was supposed to spend time in. It might well be a room where handlers brought in Anoms to give them a stern talking-to before taking them back outside; that might well have happened to her back in the day. It was a room that was made to forget about. But now she was spending time in it, it was hard not to think about how it could be spruced up. A curving and swerving stripe of doubled yellow and green, snaking around the wall. A painting of clouds, maybe a mountain underneath them, maybe a mountain that wasn’t real. A lamp with three bulbs covered in glass-blown shades, the shades evoking flowers or perhaps fruits.

She sighed. Even opening the blinds would have done wonders for the room, but… it had to stay secret and unseen. That was its sole purpose.

Just as she was about to check the wall clock again, the room flashed bright. Traquemoiselle appeared, holding Ivan by the arm.

“Hello, Ladybug,” said Traquemoiselle.

“Hello,” said Ladybug. She nodded at Minotaurox. “Why the delay?”

“Proprietary meeting with Damocles,” explained Traquemoiselle. “You were not informed.”

Like that needed to be said. Still, Ladybug scarcely had anything to complain about in this. The only places she was supposed to be were the places she was told to be in.

“Damocles asked us to inform you that you will be required to meet him in his office immediately after recovering from training,” Traquemoiselle continued.

“Oh. Why?”

“You'll have to ask him,” she replied. “But it's critical.”

A glance towards Minotaurox confirmed that he was also in the dark about this: he looked like he wanted to step back and shrink down into his shoulders.

Even so, he had a little smile on his lips and a gleam to his eye he often didn't have. Which wasn’t bad. Maybe it was because he'd been outside his room for a bit longer than usual, and without anyone shooting guns in the direction of whatever body he was occupying. Maybe it was the experience of seeing a window somewhere, without blinds, in Damocles’s office.

If only he could have that freedom more often. His smile was nice to see.

“You seem happy today,” she commented.

His eyes went wide. “R-really?”

“Yes.” She hesitated for a moment. She didn’t really know — she never saw his face before he joined the Anom ranks, before he lost his mother. “Happier than usual,” she added.

“Oh. Maybe.”

“You shouldn’t keep the handlers waiting,” said Traquemoiselle, as serious as always.

“I know,” said Ladybug. Then, “Traquemoiselle? Where is Minotaurox’s room?”

His smile fell into not much of anything. Meanwhile, Traquemoiselle said, “I'm not allowed to say. You know the importance of secrets, Ladybug.”

“I do. But he —”

“I can't tell you. Especially not here, out in the open.”

‘Open’. That was a strange way to describe this room. But the point was taken — of course the secret mattered. Minotaurox shouldn't suffer the same fate as Adrien. Nobody should. Adrien shouldn't have.

“But you shouldn't keep the handlers waiting,” Traquemoiselle repeated.

“Right. Yes,” said Ladybug, and took off her left glove. “Are you ready, Minotaurox?”

He hesitated and then nodded, sitting down on the floor against the wall. She touched the top of his head, and he slumped sideways. It was… empty, like it always was, the feeling of limpness, of falling away, of violating.

Hello, she thought at him, but he didn’t think anything back.

Traquemoiselle took hold of his slack wrist with a sigh. “Good luck,” she said — and then she blinked away, leaving Ladybug alone in the room again.

But not inside her head.

Hey, she thought.

Hi, he finally responded. Sorry ‘boutta wait.

No problem, she thought back. I know you can't tell me about the meeting you had, but was it good?

He paused. She could sense his tertiary thoughts working. Finally, he came up with, I dunno if meetings are ever good.

They can be useful?

It was boring.

Which was fair enough. We should get moving to the training hall, she thought, and turned towards the door.

Ur. He could think in sounds in a way she really wasn't used to. It was like he always meant to be saying things out loud, rather than just transmitting them. Can I ask a question?

… Sure, she said, pausing with her fingers on the door handle. What is it?

Why don't you wanna call me by my name?

Minotaurox, she thought back.

No. Ivan. I'm Ivan.

Of course — he was still too fresh. Too young, even. Minotaurox is your name. When you become an Anom, you're no longer who you used to be. You become a weapon, and weapons don't get people names.

So… why d'you call Chat Noir Adrien? That was his civilian name, right?

I…

But that was different. They were recruited at the same time, they spent… however many years working together. Adrien was the first person she ever met who was like her, or at least she thought he was. And he wasn't like her, but he was like her in that they were both different from everyone else she'd met.

… He was a very close friend to me. That's all. We were partners for many years.

So do I gotta be your partner for many years just for you to call me Ivan?

She sighed out loud. Look, it's best if you just forget everything about your old name. You're not Ivan anymore. You're an anti-terrorist weapon.

I'm notta weapon. His sound in her head: terse. His tertiary level thoughts: loud.

But… he did have a point. He wasn’t a weapon, he had the ability to heal. That was a peace thing.

Maybe not, she thought back. But we're supposed to kill terrorists. That's the only way we can bring peace.

He didn't think anything back at her. She sighed again and opened the door. Outside the door waited the two soldiers who had followed her here, and who would keep following her to the training room.

You're less of a weapon than I am, at least. After a few more echoing steps without a response, she added, Ivan.

His tertiary level thoughts immediately grew warmer. Thank you.

I won't call you that all the time. But maybe sometimes.

Just so long as someone lets me be Ivan, he thought back, and — he really was too fresh. Too young and innocent.

But maybe that innocence was worth protecting, at least for a little bit.

What kinds of things do you like to make? she asked him.

She could sense his confusion before he even thought a word, because it was almost louder than his primary level. Make?

Yeah. You said you want to make things, right? What kind of things? Carpentry, maybe? Or sculpting, or maybe food? What would you make if… um, if you weren't here?

Maybe she sounded too jovial. But she didn’t want to be hard on him. 

Well… I like music, he thought. Used to play drums.

Music. The guitar. That’s pretty cool. Did you write music, or just play?

Both.

Cool. Yeah, cool. I've never been able to play myself, I… I'm bad at music. But I bet you're super good.

I'm not really. His tertiary level was mostly tinted with [embarrassment] now, a slightly green and slightly yellow thing. ’m just okay.

Still better than me…

She thought about mentioning her guitar, about suggesting she could bring it to him so he'd have something to play music on. But as she formulated the thought into words, she wondered if she would be making a promise she couldn’t keep. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to have a guitar. Or maybe he wouldn't be able to see the other side of this conflict, either. Maybe he would die. Maybe he wouldn't appreciate a gift from her when she was being so avoidant. So she kept the guitar to herself.

They were silent for a while, except her shoes ringing off the walls. Clack, clack, clack, each clack bringing her closer to the hall where they'd test her ability to take horrible injuries once again.

She’d decided to try and not get hit from now on. Every wound a terrorist inflicted on her would mean several seconds of recovery, maybe even more if it was really bad. So every hit she avoided would make every mission both faster and easier, every bullet she dodged or grenade she blocked would make it all be over faster. She couldn’t think the way she used to with Adrien anymore, because he always protected her from everything. Now she’d have to think on her feet and fight a lot smarter. Especially now she knew for sure that the terrorists were expecting her.

She could only hope that she didn’t get tied up again for practice. The handlers were definitely just trying to test her ability to keep herself upright in the field, but she wouldn't be tied up in the field — she'd be able to duck and take cover and fight back. She couldn’t do that when they only wanted to test her resiliency, and her resiliency was awful. Which was why they were trying to improve it, but… it was frustrating.

When she took the final corner before the corridor that led to that hall, Ivan thought up again. I s’pose you won't tell me your name, either, then.

I'm just Ladybug. My other name doesn't matter.

Well… maybe it should.

That was the last they spoke before she stepped through the door, and heard the first of many complaints that day about how late she was.

🗬 || 🗭

She dragged herself out of that hall with every limb attached and a miraculously appropriate amount of blood inside her, to Minotaurox’s gentle cooing and to the following steps of the soldiers guarding her. You’re okay. You're okay. You survived.

It was always hard to think right after these sessions. The tangled mess of horrible sensations that came from getting injured over and over again just filled her mind, to the point where she didn’t even want to acknowledge him. For one thing it was exhausting; for another, if she did she would probably insult him in some way.

As usual, her uniform had been tattered and shredded by all the things they'd pierced her with. That was as normal. Also as normal, she’d been allowed to shower and change into a replacement uniform afterwards, and equally normally she had kept her primary level thoughts quiet throughout, despite his constant reassurances and comfortings. She was grateful, but expressing that gratitude felt like a horrible gamble with her mind like this.

Because of a mixup, the jacket they had provided her was far too big. Maybe they thought they'd be shooting at Minotaurox and not her, though the shirt and shoes and trousers were her size, so it was weird they'd gotten it wrong like that.

Actually… did Minotaurox even go through training on his own anymore? He had that meeting today, with Traquemoiselle. But… surely, he couldn't be…

I'm sorry, he thought at her. I'm sorry.

Don't be, she thought back. Maybe a little too sharply. It's thanks to you I'm not dead.

Yeah, but…

Do you get taken out and shot anymore? 

The question came out without planning. She thought about it on the secondary level and then it tumbled onto the primary level before she’d really meant it to, but… she did still want to know.

She’d only confused him again, though. … What?

I mean… they tested you like they’re testing me, right? Like just now? Do they still do that?

He did a quiet mental sigh. No. Sorry. It’s just you now.

So… do you get outside apart from that? Why would he apologise that he wasn’t getting roughed up?

I got out for that meeting thing.

But apart from that?

Nah. I’m sorry. ‘s just you.

His contrition was obvious, but still inexplicable. You’re saying… you’re stuck inside your room all the time, except when you come out to meet me? You have to be in that tiny little space with nothing to do?

I got books. But yeah. He sounded joyful for some reason. Or no — not joyful, just… happy. It was just that the feeling was so incongruous that it felt so strong. It’s nice meeting you every day. Means I don’t gotta sit alone anymore.

“But that’s…” she started, loudly, and then caught herself. There were soldiers behind her. Her next word was just a whisper: “… horrible.”

Why? I like being with you. Don’t got any other friends here, except Sabrina.

Even so…

She realised as she started that thought that she was just outside Damocles’s office. She hadn’t even noticed she was in the right hallway until the door was right there.

Well… I wish we could hang out more, then, she thought at him as she opened the door.

He didn’t respond. But his lower level thoughts were obviously happy as she stepped inside.

“Ah. Ladybug. Sit down, please,” said Damocles, nodding over his steepled fingers.

He was not alone. The two soldiers in the corners closest to her were expected guests, of course, because they were everywhere she went. But also… Ryuuko was there. Staring at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“… Yes, sir,” she said, pulling her eyes away from Ryuuko and moving to follow his request.

“This meeting concerns two separate things,” he told her. “Firstly, we have performed extensive investigations into the events surrounding Chat Noir’s death. Our agents have concluded that the culprit —”

Her vision tunnelled. Her hearing was filled with just the manic pumping of her heart. Adrien’s killer — the one who dug a hole into his chest and ate out his heart — had been found? She could take them out, so his new life could be safer and better?

Breathing heavily, she looked Damocles in the eye. “Sir. Could you repeat that?”

He blinked. “Ah… the culprit in Chat Noir’s murder is a woman we call T.10. Her true name is Safari. She’s an older Anom, and was part of the Anomaly Containm— the ACP until she escaped almost a decade ago. She is now an Akuma, and a very highly skilled combatant due to the training she received here.”

“I will kill her,” said Ladybug. “I’m ready.”

“No,” he replied. “You aren’t ready. I’ve been informed that you still struggle to take direct hits from a bullet, and that you collapse from having your bones shattered. You —”

“That doesn’t matter. I heal up again immediately, thanks to Minotaurox. I’ll go out and kill her.”

“She’s a very dangerous individual,” he shot back, sterner now. “If you can’t take her out immediately, she’ll capture you, or worse — cut your head off and kill you. You can’t win against her just by healing back from injuries. That’s why you’ll need to undergo far more training and resiliency exercises before we can send you out against her.”

She hesitated. Not going out there right now felt horrible, lazy, but… “You will let me handle her, then? Later?”

“Yes,” he said. “You are our most powerful agent, after all.”

“… Okay. I accept.”

“This means your training will intensify to between four and six hours every day. Those in charge will give you more details later. You will also be called in for lesser assignments once you’ve been deemed ready for them.”

Normally, she would have been fine with that arrangement. After all, she had always only been pointed at whoever needed to die next, had been so for however many years she had been here. But now that she had a clear end target, she would only be delayed from dealing with Safari if she also needed to take out other terrorists beforehand.

Even so, she didn’t want to complain about that now. There were more pressing questions to be answered first. And there was also another reason not to rain on Damocles’s idea: namely, the sense of [relief] and [happiness] she felt from Minotaurox.

So she said, “I understand,” and then: “Why is Ryuuko here?” She didn’t look at Ryuuko, but noticed a slight movement in the corner of her eye when she asked. But for Damocles to let a non-agent partake in such a critical conversation…

“Yes,” he said, like he had been waiting to be prompted. “Ryuuko’s anomaly is as of yet an unknown to us. As far as we can tell… the only power that she has so far negated is yours. Which means we need to test the two of you together. By having your anomalies interact in a controlled setting, we could figure out if there are ways to use hers in the field, perhaps in tandem with yours.”

“Sir. If she gets shot at, she’ll die.”

“All in due time,” he said, as though that made sense. “The lab rats will take you through the procedures.”

She turned towards Ryuuko. Ryuuko was staring straight at Damocles, but her eyes flitted to Ladybug for a single moment before returning to him. Had Ryuuko been informed of all this? Did she know she would be sent into the field, or that the two of them would be working together? From the looks of it, this was equally new to both of them.

“That’s all for now. You may both leave. Perhaps you’d like to talk about your new common duty?”

“Right. Yes,” said Ladybug. Ryuuko looked towards her; their eyes met properly. And Ryuuko’s were sharp. “Okay. Let’s.”

There was no change in Ryuuko's expression for a few seconds. Then she stood up and walked across the gulf between them, before reaching her hand down. “Let’s,” she echoed.

Ladybug stared at the hand for a moment. The gesture felt so imbalanced. Ryuuko probably didn’t think about it, she was probably used to taking people’s hands. She didn’t have to deal with people falling over just from a simple brush of skin, or with voices and thoughts and memories in her head appearing at the very same moment. There was no way for her to know what that bare-handed gesture, something nobody else had tried to do to her for… years, probably, felt like such a taunt.

Then again, that wouldn’t happen with Ryuuko. That was the whole point. Ladybug stared at her own, gloved hands and knew that even if the grip went wrong, even if their arms touched, it wouldn’t cause another disastrous Hold like with that nurse. It would just be skin briefly touching against skin and mean absolutely nothing.

“Okay,” she said, and took the hand. Just glove against palm. And that was fine. She got pulled to her feet, and then Ryuuko let go and set off for the door; Ladybug only followed once the soldiers started to move as well.

Sounds like you’ll be busy, came Minotaurox’s thoughts as she passed into the hallway.

“Yeah,” she replied, without thinking.

Ryuuko stopped and turned suddenly. As she was blocking the way through, Ladybug found herself stuck between her and the two soldiers also leaving.

“Do you have someone in your head right now?” Ryuuko asked, her voice as sharp as her eyes.

“I… yes,” said Ladybug. “I’m supposed to.”

A moment passed. Then Ryuuko said, “I see,” and turned to walk again. Ladybug hurried to follow, with no real plan or thought; she was only trying to follow up on the ‘Let’s’ from before.

She did want to speak to Ryuuko: she had questions to ask and suspicions to raise. Obviously that was something that had been on her mind even before today. Still, she didn’t have a plan, and so she ended up tailing more than taking the lead. And all the while, Minotaurox’s thoughts grew to sudden prominence, to the point where they almost overwhelmed her own. Hers were too subdued in comparison, by the situation and by how fast the situation had arrived.

Minotaurox…

Ivan, he corrected her.

Ivan. Is it okay if I send you back now? Adrien’s killer had been found — Intelligence had an eye on her and knew what she could do. That meant it would still be safe to keep him, except… right now, he was far too loud.

He took a moment to think, Yeah.

I'm really sorry about this.

No problem, he thought back. We'll have more time together tomorrow.

Yeah… “Bye,” she said, and sent him back. Again, Ryuuko stopped to look at her with a kind of edged inquisitiveness.

“I thought you were supposed to keep them?” she asked.

Ladybug gulped. “I was. But not anymore.”

“I see.”

Wary of the four soldiers now tailing them, Ladybug stepped a little closer and said, “I have questions for you.”

“I won’t answer them unless you answer mine.”

“Okay. Fair. But…” She glanced over her shoulder; she couldn’t see the soldier’s expression through the visor, so she didn’t even know if she caught his eye. But he was clearly watching the two of them. “We shouldn’t talk out in the open. Where’s your room?”

At first, Ryuuko seemed surprised by the question. But her face quickly settled into something more hardened. “I don’t want to have strangers inside my room,” she said, with an edge to the word ‘strangers’.

“Also fair…” murmured Ladybug. “How about… my room? It’s far away, er, like most rooms here, but I don’t mind.”

Ryuuko twitched her lips for a moment. Not into a smile, but instead just flattening them even more than they usually were. “You don’t seem to mind most things.”

“What do you mean?”

“In private,” said Ryuuko. Then she turned to walk again, further down the hall. “As private as things can be in this place.”

Ladybug followed. It was, again, a thoughtless action, something she did and only started thinking about once she was already doing it. She was now following the orders of someone who was to all effects a stranger, someone with no superiority over her or command over her actions. That wasn’t unusual, except for that part about superiority; she followed orders all the time. It was second nature to her. Especially when the commands were said with the kind of tone Ryuuko was using.

Curiously, though, Ryuuko had a certainty to her step. This was the path Ladybug would follow to get to her room. Maybe that wasn’t so unusual, because most people who weren’t officers had quarters in the same set of buildings, and that meant getting outside of this one and crossing the courtyard and finding the right block. It was just curious that Ryuuko hadn’t stopped to ask yet, although — of course — she might still stop to ask later.

They emerged into the courtyard. Ryuuko continued walking, and Ladybug followed in roughly the same manner that the soldiers were following both of them.

“Ryuuko,” she tried, after they were halfway across the courtyard.

Ryuuko kept walking.

“Ryuuko!”

Ryuuko stopped. “That’s not my name.”

Ladybug walked up beside her. “QG gave you that name. That means it’s yours.”

“I’m Kagami. No matter what anyone else says, I’m Kagami.”

Clearly a sore spot. “I was just wondering how you're so confident where I live,” tried Ladybug, in an attempt to sidestep the issue.

“I… have seen you through your window,” said Ryuuko. She didn’t look at Ladybug. “I know the building. But not the floor or room number.”

Oh. That… made sense, except Ladybug could only remember seeing Ryuuko in the courtyard once, and that time Ryuuko didn’t see her. So — the observation must have happened at some other time. Had she really become that inattentive since she lost Adrien, that she didn’t see someone staring at her from the courtyard?

Anicca. Anattā. Reality, ever changing. The self, impermanent illusion. She wasn’t supposed to be so attached, not when it stole her away from what was happening around her.

“405,” she said. “My room,” she added for clarification.

“I didn't ask for that information.”

“… No. I guess you didn’t.”

Suddenly, Ryuuko reached out to grab her by the wrist. The sensation was electric and slightly painful at the same time. Without even a single pause for breath, she started walking forward, tugging Ladybug along with surprising force.

“Ry—” started Ladybug, but thought better of finishing the name. In a way, she was under orders not to repeat it, even though it was the correct name to use. Rather than invoke anger again, she opted to just stay quiet until they were all the way into her block and about to get started on the stairs.

“It’s… 405, yeah,” she said then.

“Yes. You already said.”

The way Ryuuko moved up the steps was unnervingly accurate; it felt like she’d been here before. Not just once, but multiple times. She didn’t even check for floor numbers. Maybe she also had a room on this wing?

After a brief talk with the soldier who had been guarding her door, who tried to stop them until the following soldiers authorised the visit, they stepped through the door and left all the soldiers outside. Ryuuko walked further inside immediately, apparently taking in the details: the bed, the bookshelf, the chair, the blinded window. The chest of drawers and the mirror. The small bathroom through the door and the yellow lamps lighting both.

“This room is very sparse,” she said.

“It’s all I need,” replied Ladybug.

She mulled the situation over a little, while Ryuuko pulled at the blind to see through to the outside. That tight clasp around the wrist had sent a thousand emotions rolling through Ladybug’s lower levels. She reached a decision and pulled off her gloves. “We both have questions to ask each other,” she said.

“Yes,” said Ryuuko.

“The bed is the most comfortable place to sit.”

Ryuuko eyed the chair, which was made of metal and plastic. “I’d assume so.”

Sighing, Ladybug went to sit near the head end of the bed, where she also wrested off her jacket. Now she had two entirely bare arms, from just below the shoulders to the tips of her fingers. It felt… almost disorienting. “You can ask the first question. Please, sit down.”

“Okay,” said Ryuuko. She stopped at the foot end, however, without sitting down. Her hand came to a closed fist against her thigh. “Is it true that they’re shooting at you with bullets?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a difficult admission, but still she felt a pulse of phantom pain — like the start of a headache that quickly faded out again — from the memories. “The handlers have to make sure I’m ready for the field. They have tested me with guns, explosives, knives, and other weapons, but I’m still not good enough at taking hits.”

“How much? How long? How often?”

“At least an hour a day. Since the day after I rescued you, so… almost two weeks?”

Something shifted in Ryuuko’s expression. It seemed to almost collapse into a kind of surprise. “Almost two… I have been here for over a month.”

Ladybug nodded slowly. A month… that was also possible. “Maybe. It’s hard to keep track of time. The days kind of flow together for me.”

Then, horror dawned on her. Adrien… had been dead for over a month. His killer was still on the loose, having faced no justice. She was stuck in training for, for however much longer she needed. That month could easily turn into two, three, four months, maybe even more.

“You mean to say they’ve been shooting at you for a month, and you’re still willing to fight for them?”

“Yes?” What a nonsense question. “It’s my duty to bring peace. The terrorists have to be dealt with.”

Ryuuko hardened again. “You see yourself as the arbiter of who lives and dies.”

“I’m just a weapon. QG decides who needs to die. I follow their commands, even if the commands hurt.”

“And… how long have you been following commands?”

“I don’t know. Years. My anomaly means all my memories get muddled up with everyone else’s, I… don’t have a clue when I got here.”

Once again, Ryuuko’s hand formed into a tight fist. “You’re brainwashed,” she said. “You don’t think for yourself.”

“I’m not brainwashed! And yes I do! All my thoughts are my own!”

“Thoughts that make you think you should go out and — that make you think it’s fair for them to blow you up and keep you in a tiny room like this and follow you around with guns all day.”

“This room isn’t tiny!” Not compared to Minotaurox’s, anyhow. It was a room that held everything she needed, and she could both look and go outside. “And the soldiers are there for my safety, so there won’t be any more assassinations like… like Adrien.”

That one did hurt to say. She saw his face again, both the bright one that he wore right before she left on her last mission with him — or perhaps an earlier mission — and the greyed-out one that had been laid on a metal tray in the morgue. And she heard his voice calling for help in those last, desperate moments.

Anattā. Anicca. She was too tethered to him. This wasn’t how she was supposed to see the world, but… she had no other way of seeing it. His face was too clear and his voice was still there, and she had sunk into his death so deep that she hadn’t noticed over a month passing.

“Are you seriously okay with the way things are right now?” said Ryuuko.

“I…” started Ladybug, intending to say she was. She was fulfilling her purpose, and that was what mattered. But she knew that Adrien being gone made it impossible for things to be okay. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the way things are and have to be.”

“But —”

“Also, I’m supposed to be asking questions too.”

Ryuuko closed her mouth into a frown. A couple moments later, she nodded. Honestly — what was with her? She was already being scouted for missions by Intelligence, she'd seen what the terrorists were capable of when she saw Adrien’s body. When they captured her and tied her up. It was almost like she didn't want to help bring peace to France.

“Why… why are you like this?” said Ladybug. “Why are you acting like QG is terrible? You know what it's like out there.” Ryuuko's face twitched again. “People are dying all the time. They're living in fear. It's imperative that we bring an end to this conflict as soon as possible. That's all everyone here wants — all I want, too.”

“And you’re willing to be tortured for that?”

“Torture? I'm not being tortured! The terrorists are the ones who torture! I'm just being prepared for a difficult mission.”

“So, what, will you get a cushy job for the new regime once it's all over?”

Ladybug let her eyes fall to her hands. “No, actually,” she said, twirling a finger across the back of her hand. “After this is all over… I'll have to die. I'm too dangerous to live in a world of peace. I'd cause way too much trouble. I'll die and then, if I've completed my purpose, the world can be safe.”

“But that's…” started Ryuuko, though she faltered into silence after that. Ladybug didn’t look at her; she dug her fingernail in deep, then kept twirling.

“How do you… have this much freedom?” she tried. “That you can just… walk around?”

“You call it freedom to have a man follow me around with a machine gun everywhere I go?” said Ryuuko. Then she said, “Hah. Of course you do. You're brainwashed.”

“I'm not brainwashed.”

“Do you think you'll get good karma from letting yourself be abused?”

Ladybug pulled the nail hard enough that she tore a rift into her skin. “That’s exactly what I mean! You sound like a rogue element! Like you don't agree with what we're doing here!” Maybe she sounded shrill, but she didn’t care. She looked up to glare straight at Ryuuko. “How are you allowed to just… sit in on important security briefings and get into the morgue and all kinds of stuff? How are you sympathising with the terrorists?”

Ryuuko sighed and looked away, towards the window. “I'm not a terrorist. I'm not a ‘rogue element’, either. QG trusts me, and thinks I can do some good for something. That's why I'm here. That doesn't mean I'm going to agree with shooting you to bits when you're just a stupid child.”

“I’m not stupid! And — and I’m not a child!”

“I don’t argue with stupid children,” replied Ryuuko. But just as Ladybug was about to retort with something sharp and barbed, Ryuuko looked back at her — and she didn’t seem cross, or mocking, or anything. She only seemed… intent, on something-or-whatever. “I want to come watch the next time they're shooting at you.”

“… Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

Ryuuko shook her head. “QG trusts me.”

“That…”

But Ladybug trailed off. She didn’t have a counterargument. So she frowned, and nodded, and waited.

“Then we'll talk more tomorrow. After… that.” Ryuuko stepped closer and reached out her hand again. “If we have to work together, let's… try to make the best of it.”

Ladybug looked at the hand and almost wanted to slap it away. After all that, all those insults and all that questioning of authority, Ryuuko was trying to be nice — but in even looking at the hand, Ladybug knew she had lost. She couldn’t not take it. She had prepared herself to take it, if the opportunity arose. So she reached out her hand and placed her palm against Ryuuko’s and felt as though she’d just breathed in fresh, outside air.

“Good luck,” said Ryuuko.

Then she let go. And then she left.

And Ladybug collapsed against the bed and knew that if Ryuuko offered her hand again… she would accept any insult in order to hold on to it.

Chapter Text

The handler folded his arms as he looked at her. His pose, voice, the look in his eyes… they were all unbothered. Almost carefree. This was just matter-of-fact to him. “From today on,” he said, “these sessions will prepare you for a far wider variety of combat situations. You will be exposed to more varied forms of danger to test your ability to respond and recover. This will last four to five hours each day. Understood?”

“Yes. Sir,” said Ladybug. Four to five hours… that was far longer than before. Far more time for injuries to be inflicted on her. But if this was what was needed to take out Safari, she would go through literal hell to do so.

“Starting tomorrow, and every other day afterwards, you will — immediately after your sessions here — meet up to train in hand-to-hand combat as well as firearms in hall C2. This is to refresh your skills, but also so you can learn the techniques you need to — yes?”

She lowered her hand. “Sir. Hall C2 is fifteen minutes away by foot.”

“That’s as may be. I'm sure they have accounted for that provision. You will leave this hall and move over there as fast as you can, from tomorrow on.”

“… Alright, sir,” she replied, fully certain that that wouldn't be the case. But… maybe this would be the first time nobody would yell at her for being late?

Well — at least a dream wasn’t bad if it could only hurt her.

Maybe Sabrina can help you get there faster? suggested Minotaurox’s primary level thoughts.

“These extra sessions will last for an additional hour. Only after that will you be released for other duties.”

“Understood,” she replied. Traquemoiselle. And she's always busy. I can’t rely on her for this, she thought. And finally, she spoke up again: “What about Minotaurox? Will I be keeping him for the entire time?”

“You will be briefed in Hall C2,” replied the handler.

“Understood.” She didn’t like that answer, but there was no use complaining about it, either.

He nodded slowly at her, like he was satisfied with something. “Good. Then we will start shortly. Take up your normal position.”

“Yes, sir.”

The normal position this time was an open spot in the middle of a circle that was surrounded by metal plating and, as she could see from the sides as she entered, tight padding. The floor mark was the same, and it was still overlooked by the same large window as always, the one that slanted outwards. It was impossible to discern anything through it except shapes and lights, because they had some kind of reflective coating on them that was probably meant to allow people to see out but not in; it was, however, still see-through enough that she could never not be aware that there were people watching her.

And today, presumably, Ryuuko was among them. She’d asked for permission, after all, and seemed to be allowed to go just about anywhere she wanted.

Ladybug frowned at the window. The people up there might notice, or they might not. Then she took her spot in the middle of the circle.

A minute passed, or more. The time needed for the handler to reach all the way up there, the place where he would be protected from shrapnel and ricocheting bullets.

“Today, you will be trained in dealing with unconventional weapons,” spoke the handler eventually, his voice crackling from a single nearby speaker. She couldn’t see even a shadow in the window. “First off… tranquilisers and disabling agents. We want to see if your fast recovery also enables you to shrug off chemical attacks.”

“Understood,” she replied. And in case her voice didn’t carry, she also nodded three times.

“Be advised that there will also be harmful chemicals involved in later stages of the session,” he continued, and she nodded again, three times. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said out loud. “I’m ready.”

“Good. Tranquilisers, at the ready.”

She could hear motion from beyond the plating that surrounded her. Soldiers moving into position, no doubt. Tranquilisers… she didn’t know what it felt like to be hit by them. But at the very least it should hurt less than real bullets.

Can you keep me in your head even if you’re asleep? thought Minotaurox.

Yes. Don’t you remember I’ve been unconscious before during training?

Oh. Yeah. He paused for a bit. I’ve never been tranquilised before. Dunno how it’ll work.

I haven’t either, she thought back. But —

The gun fired. A sharp pain erupted from the back of her thigh, jolting her stiff; she turned to see a metal dart with a reservoir on it sticking out halfway down her leg, with a red feather-like thing attached to the end.

Does it hurt?

“Yes,” she said. But she had had worse.

“Don’t remove, shift, or even touch the dart until you start to feel faint,” the handler’s voice said. But he obviously hadn’t thought that through: the dart started to be pushed out immediately, through no intentional effort of her own. Minotaurox’s healing was active, and it was trying to force out foreign elements.

“Sir.” She raised her voice as high as it would go, and hoped it would carry to the nearest microphone. “The recovery expels it automatically.” At the same time, there was a tinkling sound as the dart fell down to the floor; the pain was almost completely gone at that point.

“Understood,” he replied. “Then stay upright until you start to feel faint.”

“Sir.”

Time passed. She shook her arms, kicked her heel against the dart to send it away, tried to look for further muzzles aimed at her — but right now, there were none.

Minotaurox? she asked, after a while of not feeling faint at all.

Yus.

Have you been poisoned before?

No, he thought back. Not as I can remember.

She pondered how her body expelled bullets and darts and shards when those were shot into her. Something liquid like tranquiliser, would that follow the same rules? She patted herself on the thigh to check if something had run out from the hole before it got closed, but she couldn’t feel any dampness. She bent down and picked up the dart; when she shook it close to her ear, it sounded like the dart was empty.

Do you think you might be immune to anaesthetics? she thought.

Unno. Maybe.

And if he was… hopefully his body could repair itself perfectly no matter what medical problem he was experiencing, or he might one day need an operation that would be the worst experience of his life.

She took another look around. Only flat and dull metal all around her, rising up to twenty feet above. It almost perfectly circled her, and the actually painted white circle she stood inside. The thought hadn’t really struck her before, but… the way she was placed today, the way she was often placed, was as a target. The bullseye at the centre of a set of circles, not red but pink. And obviously, she was the target, because that was the entire point of her training… but it also felt bigger than that. It wasn’t only weapons aimed at her, it was also eyes and intentions.

And from between the metal plates around her, she could spot the hint of waiting soldiers, of their weapons aimed towards her. They weren’t targets; they weren’t even being observed, except in glimpses by her. They were almost like yet another circle outside the one of metal, like a fence.

But she wasn’t being confined. She was being sharpened, so she could go out and take down one of the most dangerous terrorists in the country. The soldiers couldn’t handle Safari; maybe nobody could. Ladybug certainly couldn’t… not until she had trained for long enough that she wasn’t fazed by a bullet to the gut or a grenade to her feet.

“Ladybug. Are you experiencing any faintness?” asked the handler.

“No. None. Sir.”

“Five minutes and nothing. We’ll need a greater dose. Four darts, fire when ready.”

She didn’t answer. She just breathed deeply and waited for the piercing stings to come again. And they did, simultaneously, one in her arm and one in her side and one in each thigh — and with all the effort she had to give, she managed to restrain her reaction into a single, quiet whimper. She had felt worse. It hurt, but she had felt worse.

Eyes closed, she bunched and unbunched her fists until the darts clattered at her feet and the wounds stitched themselves together. When she opened them, she felt nothing. She was ready for tranquilisers. She could maybe even run with a tranquiliser stuck in her, and catch up to the people who shot her, take them out before they could shoot her again.

“Another volley,” said the handler. Another four darts struck her, from different angles but in similar places. It stung, like always, but not enough to stop her.

“Another.” Four more. This time she groaned and fell to one knee — one of the darts had gone into her shoulder, piercing through to the bone. She clasped around it, but didn’t actually move it; she just needed a sensation in that area that wasn’t stabbing pain.

“Halt. Ladybug. Are you feeling faint?”

She pushed herself upright again, and all the darts were expelled from the wounds they’d punched in her. Minotaurox, how are you? she asked him.

Okay. Are you?

“Yeah,” she mumbled. Then she raised her voice higher and said, “I feel nothing.” Nothing except the discomfort she was already expecting from the next volley. “My head is clear.”

At least it’s not too bad today, started Minotaurox. His tertiary level thoughts were relaxed — not entirely, she could still sense sympathy from him, but the overall feeling was a lot calmer than he usually was during training. Non-lethal stuff.

She shook her head. It’s still lethal. Tranquiliser can kill you if the dose is too high. Anyone else would be dead by now. But it takes minutes to work, and your anomaly heals in seconds… I think the tranquiliser just never gets a chance to work. You’re expelling it.

Oh. How d’you know alla that?

I’ve used tranquilisers myself. On —

The handler cleared his throat into the microphone. “Tranquilisers clearly don’t work. Prepare for lachrymator deployment.”

Immediately, the metal walls around her clanged — presumably as doors were closed and passages shut, so that the soldiers would only have reduced exposure. She sighed and closed her eyes.

What’s… lachrymator? asked Minotaurox.

Tear gas. It’s a crowd control agent. Makes you cry and have trouble breathing.

That doesn’t sound fun.

She shook her head. I wouldn’t know.

There were so many weapons. She herself was used to handguns and big knives, things she had used to take out lots of terrorists in her time, and she had felt many other weapons glance off her body while Holding Adrien. Gas was a big group weapon and she had sometimes fought groups of people, but things designed to incapacitate large groups were never as sure as knocking someone out or shooting them dead. She had been trained thoroughly in how to deal with crowds just with her own two hands and whatever weapons she could hold in them — not by throwing canisters.

And she had barely seen anyone else use gas, either. It was usually just a part of a greater terror attack, something where other weapons would leave civilians dead after the gas disabled them. Sometimes, there were reports that the military had used gas against terrorists. But for the most part, the terrorists used normal guns and explosives, as well as whatever Anoms they had access to.

“Sir,” she said out loud, “are you sure the terrorists would use these weapons?”

There was a pause. “We know they have access to all these weapons. It’s impossible to predict what they would actually use, but there’s a chance they would try anything to stop you.”

“I see. Sir.”

Caution. Planning. That was why she was doing all this in the first place, too. As long as the handlers and QG had a plan, she would be satisfied with anything.

“Lachrymator. Launch at will.”

Nothing happened for a few moments. She opened her eyes when she heard a hissing sound, and tried to look around to catch where it was coming from; however, something thumped into the ground before she could see it. As she watched, the canister spread white smoke into the air; she quickly  heard two more being fired.

She tried to brave it out. The smoke came out fast but she had seen things that looked far more dangerous, far more aggressive; she knew she would probably experience the effects that had been described to her, but she thought she could bear it.

Then she breathed in the first guff of tear gas and almost doubled over from choking. It felt like her throat was on fire; as soon as she bent down her eyes were also on fire. The gas felt like spice was being poured directly into her, like thousands of needles were being jammed into her windpipe from the inside. She could barely even cough; she couldn’t breathe at all, and her eyes had been forced shut. Her nose started to drip with snot. She slammed her hand over her mouth and tried to move away, but she couldn’t keep the gas out and she didn’t have any idea where she was going.

“Ladybug. Focus.”

Even if she wanted to reply, she couldn’t. If she tried to open her mouth, she inhaled more gas; if she tried to open her eyes, she’d immediately have to force them shut again. She stumbled forward and suddenly crashed into a metal wall with a dull clang; she pushed herself against it and tried to wave one hand in front of her face to disperse the air; the prickling had started on her skin now, too, a burning sensation that was lesser than in her eyes but still enough to make her want to groan in agony.

But if she groaned, she’d be opening her mouth again.

“Ladybug. It will be far worse than this in the field. You have to be ready.”

Despite how useless it probably was, she nodded. In the field, she wouldn’t have warnings ahead of time; she would have people attacking her while all this was going on. She would also have weapons and a full-face mask and therefore be protected more, but she might be forced into far more terrible situations than this one. In fact, it was certain that she would.

The stinging in her eyes had gone down now, though. The tears had stopped, and while she still struggled to breathe she could at least draw some breath through her cupped hand, even if some gas also made it through to make her entire respiratory system sting anew.

She tried opening her eyes again — just narrow slits — and for a moment she saw a white fog, and a vague glimpse of the dim air above and the observer’s window close to the ceiling, and then she felt a sharp prickling and closed her eyes again.

How are you doing? asked Minotaurox.

Horrible, she thought back.

In the field… she could put on protective glasses. She could grab a canister and throw it back, at least if she had something to protect her hand against the heat. She wouldn’t be confined in a circle and told to bear it.

But… it was true that preparing her for the worst possible scenario would also prepare her for easier situations…

Tear gas is very dangerous if you stay inside it, she continued, more for something to do than because she thought he needed to know. It can cause severe and permanent breathing problems and damage the eyes, or cause burns. Those were details she remembered from theoretical training, though she didn’t know if that training was her own or somebody else’s. It was training on how to handle being attacked with tear gas, at least.

… Shouldn’t you leave, then?

I’m not supposed to. And you’re healing me.

Would Safari use tear gas? Tranquilisers? Was she better at close range or at a distance? How well trained was she? And what was her anomaly?

No matter what — according to Intelligence she was still far too dangerous. Tear gas by itself would be nothing compared to her. Ladybug needed to train to be as resilient as possible, so she could take on Safari one-on-one. She pulled up her jacket to cover her mouth, held her other hand over one eye, and tried to orient herself again.

From the sound, there was one canister close to her, to her right. The other two were ahead but more diffuse, harder to locate directly. She breathed in as deeply as she managed and dared, and then she cracked her covered eye open and split the fingers. It wasn’t protection, it was just the most rudimentary blockage she could imagine, but she located the canister near her and kicked it hard so it spun across the floor to the other side, fizzing as it went.

Then she closed her eyes again and waited.

“You can’t stand still in the field, Ladybug,” said the handler. It almost felt like a taunt. “You have to be prepared to face the gas head-on.”

“Yes!” she shouted, through her makeshift mask, muffled so much that probably only she could hear that an actual word had been spoken. She put one foot forward, too, but nothing more than that.

She didn’t like the handlers. But compared to Safari, they were saints and angels. Compared to terrorists, she would rather take ten handlers than one terrorist. They were protecting Paris, so it was important for her to be as prepared as possible. And even if it stung and burned and wounded, whatever she faced here would be a hundred times worse out there.

Once more, she opened both her eyes and lowered her mask. And she stepped forward to where the gas was now the thickest, and doubled over again when the full concentrated force of lachrymators struck her throat and nostrils.

“Good,” said the handler. “Stay in there for a few more minutes. Once the lachrymator disperses, we will move on to electroshock devices… and finally chlorine gas.”

She coughed her feeble obedience out into the choking air.

🗬 || 🗭

Ryuuko was there when Ladybug finally escaped into the changing rooms, an unknown but excessive length of time later. She stood there, arms folded, simply watching — she didn’t say anything, not even when Ladybug stopped to blearily stare at her through the haze of gas particles now attached to every part of her.

Ladybug sighed and went to wrench off her clothes. “Happy with —” a series of coughs interrupted her already fragile voice — “with what you saw?”

“No,” replied Ryuuko. “I’m not.”

“Too bad. This,” more coughing, “this was mild…” continued Ladybug, pulling down her trousers and then going for her shirt. She still coughed intermittently; even if Minotaurox could heal anything for her, it all went back to nothing for things that were still attached to her. Her skin still burnt, and her eyes felt like she’d poured salt into them, and she definitely had particles in her throat and mouth — though it felt like they didn’t go as deep anymore.

It was only when she started taking off her underwear that Ryuuko spoke again. “Are you sure you want to do that in front of a stranger?” she said. When Ladybug turned to look, Ryuuko stood with a hand covering her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ladybug replied. “All that matters,” only one cough this time, “is that I do my job.”

“You should care about your own privacy.”

She ignored Ryuuko and went for the showers. The sooner she could wash everything off, the better: it wasn’t just gas, it was also sweat and salt and the smell of burning, a persistent acridity that lingered even though the actual burns were healed. The shower came on and was somewhere between cold and lukewarm; she gulped some of it down her throat and then pulled her eyes open to rinse them, too. And she left the curtain open.

“Is the reason you don’t care because the people in your head can also see you?”

“No.” As she answered, she felt a wave of [embarrassment] from Minotaurox’s tertiary level thoughts. But he remained quiet. He often did, during out-loud conversations. She appreciated that about him.

“I see.” Ryuuko was still out of sight, but it sounded like she’d moved up to be close to the shower stall — except at an angle where she couldn’t see in. “Can they see?”

“They use my eyes.”

“Okay.”

“All my senses.” The water was starting to help; it was colder than she’d like for a normal shower, but she didn’t want warm water in her eyes or in her mouth.

It took a little while for Ryuuko to say something else. When she did, it almost sounded timid. “The day after you rescued me, you came into the bearded man’s office wearing nothing but a hospital gown. You didn’t even wear shoes.”

“Yes,” said Ladybug, ending it with a short set of coughs into the oncoming water. She shifted a little to rinse her other eye.

“You didn’t seem bothered by that.”

“I wasn’t.”

“So… is that the same reason why you don’t care about undressing in front of a stranger?”

“Why should that matter?”

Ryuuko sighed. “I watched you get tortured for four and a half hours. You tell stories about how you have been shot and and blown up and hit with batons. You don’t have a shred of modesty and are fine walking around in almost no clothes. Does your body matter so little to you?”

Ladybug turned around, less because she was finished with her eyes — she scrunched them up instead, and instead started rinsing out her hair — and more because she wanted to speak freely. “My body doesn’t matter. It heals back up as soon as they stop shooting at me. That doesn’t have anything to do with privacy. I don’t care who sees me because it doesn’t matter. It’s just skin. My clothes get torn off during training, and I have to keep going anyway. It… doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t you matter, Ladybug? Doesn’t it matter that you are your own person?”

Ladybug hesitated. The way Ryuuko spoke was almost pleading, but mostly inquisitive — her tone was so innocent. So naïve. And yet the words dug deeper than most insults possibly could.

“… But I’m not my own person,” she said eventually. “I’m a vessel. I touch other people and then they use my body. Not just my senses but my memories. I carry the thoughts and memories of hundreds of people, most of whom are dead. I’m full of terrorist ghosts.”

“But —”

“Even if I only had my own mind inside me,” Ladybug continued, “I’m not a person at all. I’m a weapon. I’m meant to help fix France and when France is fixed, I’ll die. QG owns me.”

Once again, Ryuuko didn’t reply immediately. With the shower as the only sound in the room, Ladybug briefly felt like she was the only person there — even though she knew Ryuuko couldn’t have left, even though she hadn’t let Minotaurox go yet.

But eventually, Ryuuko asked a determined, “Are you happy with that?”

“I’m rarely happy,” said Ladybug. She meant it as a quip, but as she thought about it… it was true. She didn’t really feel happy while Adrien was still around, either, but she for sure felt less happy now.

“I think you should consider the fact that life has value,” said Ryuuko, irritatingly fast.

“I already know that. Most lives have value. But not terrorists’, and not mine.”

“I think you should be as upset at the thought of your own death as you are at Adrien’s death.”

Something dark clanged inside Ladybug’s chest. “You don’t get to talk about him like that,” she snapped, and turned around to face the shower again. The waterflow brought with it particles from her hair down to her eyes and she yelped from the sudden sting, but luckily it was weak this time. She was left staring at the water as it poured down the drain: it looked sticky, yellowish, thick. Dissolved gas finally swept off her body and away to where nobody would see it anymore, or notice it, or even think about it. It looked like watery glue.

“I think your life holds value, Ladybug.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it.”

Ladybug groaned, pulled her hands down her face. She didn’t even care that it stung now, didn’t even care that she was cold all over. It was all immaterial, just like everything was immaterial. She was in a life that could only hold suffering, dukkha. It would pass just like all things, anicca. She didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. Holding on to worldly pain and suffering could never bring her peace.

“I think you are more than a machine meant for killing.”

That — was more than enough lies for one day. She stepped back out of the shower, pulled water away from her face, and found Ryuuko watching her in obvious horror. With three wet steps she covered the distance between them and grabbed Ryuuko’s hand with both of her own.

“Then,” she started, but that wasn’t what she had meant to say. “Then prove it to me. Find me someone other than you who can hold my hand and not suffer for it. I wear clothes because if I don’t, I would suck people into my body when I brush against them. I don’t wear them for me. I wear them so that I’m not a danger.”

Ryuuko hadn’t closed her eyes yet. She just stared, blinking, and her mouth was shaped like a tiny ‘o’.

“Well?” demanded Ladybug.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Then I’m nothing more than a weapon.” She meant to say that and then let go of the hand, dropping it like Ryuuko had dropped her reassurance. But just like every time before… it was a hand, a real hand, holding her back, using its muscles to return even a fraction of a grasp. And that meant she couldn’t stop holding on. Here she was, standing completely bare and vulnerable before another person, yelling at them to give up on her — but the hand didn’t let go.

And then the hand did let go. “Ladybug… I still don’t think you’re envisioning your life in the way you should. But just as I told you yesterday… I don’t argue with stupid children.”

As she said that, she turned and walked away, towards the outer exit. Her footsteps echoed over the rushing water of the shower, not louder, but deeper and more ominous.

Ladybug breathed in. She had been insulted for it… but she had held Ryuuko’s hand again.

Slowly, she walked back into the shower. And she turned the water warmer, and she let everything that washed off her get stuck on that yellow glue, and pour away into the unseen darkness below.

Chapter Text

They were holding hands again. This time on a handler's command. The air was cold against the bare parts of her skin, but nothing worse than she had experienced before; a sports bra and shorts were better than just a hospital gown in terms of keeping warm.

"Shoot her in the leg," said the handler. "Small calibre." A soldier obliged with a loud bang. Ladybug gritted her teeth but stayed upright — the bullet only pierced the flesh on her thigh, not the bone. Maybe she buckled a little, but not enough to fall over.

Strangely, Ryuuko's hand was the one to tense into hers.

As Ryuuko helped her up with a simple tug, the handler spoke. "Ladybug. Does Minotaurox's anomaly still hold?"

She didn't even need to look, or feel, to know that it did. His tertiary level thoughts were loud with apology. "Y-yeah," she said, while the pain eased out of her and the hole stitched itself together. "I'm… fine. All good now."

"Good," said the handler. He seemed to be inspecting her leg, or maybe just the amount of blood that had seeped out. The bullet lay slick with it on the floor beside her. "Now hold both hands. Face to face."

Ladybug glanced aside at Ryuuko, who was dressed in the full regulation uniform. There was very little reaction, except for a slight and temporary raise of the eyebrows.

"Okay," said Ladybug, and turned around ninety degrees. She reached out her other hand. Ryuuko sighed and followed suit; when their palms met fully, Ryuuko's grasp tightened even more than before. Her eyes bored into Ladybug's. The message in them was clear: 'You're doing this, even though you know they'll just shoot at you again.'

But those were thoughts of treachery, Ladybug knew. She had to be shot at — and Ryuuko would see, eventually, the reason why. Answering the eyes with a brief frown, she quickly turned away towards the handler and his soldiers and gave him a nod.

"Alright," said the handler. "Ladybug. Do not let go of Ryuuko with either hand, no matter what."

"Okay."

The handler did a gesture with his fingers. "Two shots at Ladybug, please. Anywhere you want, small calibre."

"Wait! Don't hit Ryu—"

She was interrupted by another bullet in her thigh, and a second one in her gut. She crumpled but didn't let go, which was partly thanks to Ryuuko — Ryuuko's grip went even tighter than last time.

"Our marksmen are extremely skilled," said the handler; his voice was almost pure chastisement. "They would never hit someone they don't intend to. You should know this, Ladybug."

The gut bullet had gone deep. She could feel it still getting pushed out after he was done speaking; breathing heavily, she closed her eyes and waited, and soon heard the bullets clink against the concrete below. "Yes. I — I know. But —"

"You can trust them to hit their target in any situation."

She looked down. The pain was gone now, other than the part that had joined the tangled mess in her brain. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know."

Minotaurox thought, I think you're right to worry.

"Good," said the handler.

No. I was wrong, she thought at Minotaurox, as she unbent again. But she did worry nonetheless — tried to check if Ryuuko had been hit by a stray, even though she had definitely only heard two guns fired. On the way up, though, all she noticed were some droplets of blood that had sprayed onto Ryuuko's arms — which she forgot about completely when she was fully upright and looked back into Ryuuko's eyes. Said eyes were completely unreadable, but deeply intense. They're… they're very accurate.

Lotsa bullet holes past me during training, he replied.

They're the best gunmen in the world…

"Ladybug. Please let go of Ryuuko's hands," said the handler. She didn't follow his command immediately. "Afterwards, engage in a hug with Ryuuko."

Ladybug blinked. "Sir?"

"Do you need the command repeated, Ladybug?"

"No, I…" She glanced at Ryuuko, who seemed less intense and more just — surprised, maybe. Her frown had faded into a nothing. Was she uncomfortable? She didn't seem to enjoy it when Ladybug was nude by her in the shower, after all. "Can I ask why?"

"I would also like to know why," said Ryuuko, without looking at him. "Sir."

The handler sighed at them. "Like we told you already, lesser Anoms have complained of temporary weakness after touching Ryuuko. We need to know if she is capable of putting the same strain on you, or if her effect on you stops at just being immune."

"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't know why that means she needs to hug me," said Ryuuko.

"Because her anomaly works through contact with her skin. We have to make sure that she doesn't experience any adverse effects even with excessive contact."

"It's okay," said Ladybug. After all, the other Anoms had felt strains on their abilities, and even heard voices — it was probably necessary to check. She swallowed. "I'm sure nothing bad will happen."

Ryuuko set sharp eyes against her. "That isn't my worry."

"Go ahead, Ladybug," said the handler. "As much of your skin in contact with Ryuuko as possible, please."

I din't think you needed more thanna brush against someone, thought Minotaurox.

She sighed. QG knows best. They know how all kinds of anomalies work. And then, before he could think anything more, she let go and stepped back to look Ryuuko in the eyes.

"I'm going to hug you now," said Ladybug, to a deepening of Ryuuko's frown. When she got closer and started reaching her arms out, she added in a low whisper, "Sorry for making you uncomfortable again."

"The discomfort isn't mine," replied Ryuuko, in a low but harsh voice.

A moment later, they were cheek to cheek. It wasn't really any more electrifying than just holding Ryuuko's hand; the chilly air made it distinctly awkward, even. With nothing in her hands she felt strangely empty — so she grabbed hold of Ryuuko's shoulders just to have something to fill her palms. She shivered a little as Ryuuko's arms came around her back, and then… they were just standing there.

All that time, Minotaurox remained quiet. But she could feel his presence the same way she'd notice a person standing still in the corner of her eye. There wasn't any less of his lower level thoughts.

"I feel fine," she said. "No straining —" or there was, just not that kind of straining. She always felt tense in Ryuuko's company, but that was on her end: just the idea that they could touch, at all, made her feel insane. The one person in the world who was safe from her anomaly was also a person who spoke of the government like they were evil. Who kept insulting her.

"We should test that," said the handler, after a slight pause. "Shoot her. Medium calibre."

Ladybug felt every muscle in her body tense at once. "No! The bullet could pass through me!"

The world exploded from the back of her head. It was — peculiar, she supposed — the way the pain almost felt secondary. Because even as her skull shattered and the bullet bored through her brain, her main feeling was just relief. They hadn't shot her in the back or anywhere that the bullet could have passed through to Ryuuko. Her body fell limp and the only reason she didn't collapse was that Ryuuko's arms tightened to hold her upright. Her thoughts swam and her vision went black, but at least only she was injured.

"We are aware," said the handler, probably. The words felt muddled and distant, even more so as he continued to possibly say, "Our marksmen are extremely skilled. You know this, Ladybug."

The bullet slowly pushed its way back out. The parts of her head that had been burst apart moved back towards their original, complete position. She started to regain feeling in her limbs. Minotaurox thought, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

And then she realised — her senses had either cut out or gone foggy. There could have been more shots. Minotaurox? she thought, Is Ryuuko okay?

I dono, he replied. She's holding you. I'm sorry…

Oh, she thought. Ryuuko did stand rigid as a pole. Ladybug breathed out through aching lips, but it took all she had to just not fall into a heap right now.

"Ladybug. Can you hear me?"

She knew the handler could see what the back of her head looked like. She almost wanted to shout at him. "Y-y-yesh," she managed. "I — gh — sorry."

"Is recovery complete? Does it feel slower than before?" said the handler. She could hear him clearly enough to be sure now. She could also tell that he spoke with no care whatsoever, a crossing-things-off-a-list voice, a dull-protocol voice. The bullet dropped out while he spoke, almost an afterthought as it smacked wetly against the top of her neck and then the hard floor below.

"Recovery…" She gritted her teeth again and cringed against Ryuuko. The pain was still there, although it was fading. How was she supposed to compare the damage from a bullet to the flesh of her thigh, to that from a bullet to her brain and spine? She loosened a hand and tried to clench the fingers. They seemed to be working fine. "Recovery is complete," she said. There was no way to accurately answer the second question, but the bullet — at least — had been pushed out at the same speed as the others.

"Are your faculties intact," he said more than asked, and —

— other than the growing ball of frustration and hurt that was growing in her by the day, like a punishment from a god she didn't believe in? "Yes." With a small push, she secured herself on her own feet and let go of Ryuuko, stepping back to look her in the face.

A face that was now splattered with blood.

"They shot you too!" she said and reached out her hand.

But Ryuuko batted it away. "This is your blood," she almost spat. But her eyes had something else in them, like — fear, kind of, but not really.

Are you okay? she thought, thinking maybe Ryuuko would be more comfortable with that kind of talking right now. She didn't even recall Ryuuko's immunity, or even that Ryuuko was standing straight up in front of her and meeting her eyes. She only realised when she heard Minotaurox respond, Yuh. 'm fine.

… Good, she thought. Because it was good to know, even if she'd forgotten to ask him. She knew his body was safe, and that Safari was being watched closely — but even so, he was worth worrying about. I'm glad you're alright.

Yuh. Me with you too.

The handler spoke up again before she had any chance to think of what else to do with Ryuuko. "Ladybug. Please take Ryuuko's hands one more time."

"… Okay." She hesitated, half raising her hands before lowering them again. Ryuuko was still staring at her the same way, intensely focused on her eyes: in a way, it felt like the look from that day in the shower. Was it yesterday? Last week? No, it wasn't that long, but it probably wasn't yesterday, either… that time when she showered with Ryuuko in the room, and she stepped out of it while dripping with water, and the look Ryuuko gave her then was similar to this one. Not fearful, but… maybe shocked. Maybe something else.

And then it disappeared when Ryuuko started to frown instead, her eyebrows digging a furrow into her forehead.

"I'm taking your hands now… okay?" tried Ladybug, reached forward again. Ryuuko's hands were tensed, slightly warmer than before. Maybe the frown faded a little bit, but… not enough to be significant.

"Good," said the handler. "Keep holding on, Ladybug. No matter what happens."

"I'm ready," she said, not looking away from Ryuuko.

"There was no reduction in your healing."

"Yes. No. No, there wasn't."

He sighed. She couldn't see his expression, but it sounded like a sigh of resignation more than anything else. "Presumably, that means she isn't draining Ladybug's abilities. However, we still need to test the other side. Aim a single shot at Ryuuko's shin, small calibre."

Ladybug moved before she even had the conscious thought to do so. She let go of Ryuuko completely and spun around, staring straight at the handler — the soldier beside him was aiming straight for them. "What?"

"I said don't let go under any circumstance," he said reproachfully.

"Why are you shooting at her?"

"We have to test if she borrows anomalies. If she heals from the injury at an increased rate, we'll know that that's what's going on."

Bafflement almost locked her limbs. But only almost. She held out her arms, spread her legs, raised her head. "Are you mad?" she said — no, she almost growled it. "What if she can't heal at all?"

"Our marksmen are extremely skilled."

"That's exactly why I'm protesting!" she snapped. "I know you can hit her!"

"We can only find out if she can borrow your healing through injuring her —"

"Not with a gun! Shoot me all you want, but not her! Not until you're sure!"

And he just… glowered at her. She had never seen a handler look at her like that — with open distaste. Usually, they just looked disinterested, maybe annoyed or even upset, but the way his eyes stung was sharper than anything she'd experienced before. Even so, she wasn't going to back down. She set her jaw against him.

— and she ran the mental calculations of, if they tried to shoot, how quickly could she kill them? Before they hit Ryuuko? Could she catch them by surprise, maybe, and make them shoot at her instead? All she needed was to grab one of their guns, and avoid coming into contact with them at all costs… she could do that. She was sure of it.

But she didn't need to think about it beyond that point. Because he reached for his belt and unhooked his knife from it. "Fine," he said, and threw the knife and holster towards her. She snatched it from the air. "Then you should injure her. However you see fit, Ladybug."

"Thank you. I'm sorry," she said. His eyes hardened again, just for a moment, but then went back to a more normal level of irritation.

When she turned back to Ryuuko, though… Ryuuko's expression had changed again. It was more muted now, whether by fear or further discomfort or something else entirely. Ladybug drew the knife and held it up — it seemed sharp.

"Er… give me your hand?" she said. Ryuuko did so, without apparent hesitation, and Ladybug took the hand and held it with the palm up. The next command was also followed almost immediately: "And… put your other hand on my shoulder."

"Okay."

Which left Ladybug staring at an open palm. One of only two palms in the entire world she could touch without stealing the owner's mind. The lines inside it seemed so — gentle. Even though there were wrinkles and uneven lines, the entirety of it looked almost like a child's pencil drawing. Rash and uneven and rough in one way, but also just… fragile. Helpless. Innocent.

She put the knife against the palm, and imagined herself adding yet another line. But she wasn't a child — she would mar the innocent beauty that was already there.

Because… she was a destroyer. An asura. A weapon. She could destroy anyone by brushing her hand against them, except Ryuuko. And now she had to destroy a piece of Ryuuko regardless.

Their eyes met again.

"Do it already," said Ryuuko.

And Ladybug did.

🗬 || 🗭

The hospital bed was not the same that Marinette had woken up in after Adrien died. But it looked the same — it was just much closer to the exit and the on-call nurse's room. That was really the only way to tell the sickrooms apart: the amount of steps needed to reach them.

Ryuuko sat upright in the bed, her legs hanging off the side. Ladybug stood by the foot end with her arms folded. Neither of them had cleaned up after the session; there was still blood on their clothes, and caked on Ladybug's skin. Nonetheless, a nurse was with them — the same one that had greeted her after she woke up — wrapping up Ryuuko's hand with disinfectant and gauze.

Other than the sound of snipping and wrapping, though, the room was quiet. Nobody spoke, and Ladybug focused entirely on following the hand and the bandaging, not on anyone's face. She found herself worrying her lower lip with her teeth the whole time.

Minotaurox… please tell me she's okay, she begged.

You barely cut her, he replied. She could feel he was uncertain about it, though. She din't bleed much.

And… no bullets hit her, right?

Nuh. Don't think so.

Ladybug swallowed. She knew, but… what if QG had heard about Ryuuko's opinions on them? What if they genuinely wanted to hurt her, and that was why the handler had glared like that?

I'm worried, she thought. It was such a stupid thing to tell someone.

You dun' need to be. She's gonna be fine.

"There," said the nurse. "Don't strain the hand too much, but the cut should heal by itself."

"Thank you," said Ryuuko. Ladybug was almost certain that Ryuuko didn't look at the nurse while saying that.

"I'll be going now. Other patients." Ladybug was absolutely certain that the nurse did look at her, at least with a glance. "You may use the room a while longer, but please be gone by three."

"Understood," said Ryuuko.

The nurse left without another word. Once he was through the door, Ladybug finally dared to look straight at Ryuuko — who didn't return the gesture.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," said Ladybug.

Ryuuko sighed. She didn't reply with words, however.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better than I would if they shot me in the leg."

"Yes, but —"

"Ladybug."

Ladybug stopped talking immediately.

"Sit down," said Ryuuko, with a command that Ladybug had come to recognise but hadn't yet gained the strength to oppose.

"Okay." Ryuuko patted the bed next to her; Ladybug took her seat a little further away than indicated.

And then there was silence. Ryuuko didn't even look Ladybug's way.

"Why did you ask me —"

"Tell me your name," said Ryuuko, interrupting once again. "Your real name."

Ladybug stared down into her lap. Her fingers were already feeling restless. "It's Ladybug," she murmured a little while later.

"That's not your real name."

"It is to me."

"It's not," snapped Ryuuko. "Stop playing stupid."

"I'm not," said Ladybug, almost in a kind of bark. "I'm not playing stupid."

"Then you are stupid."

Ladybug sighed quietly. "Can I hold your hand?"

Ryuuko's response wasn't immediate. But it was a quiet, "Yes." Her unbandaged hand reached out between them, falling limp just beside Ladybug's thigh. And Ladybug grabbed it with what she felt was hunger, but knew from the outside must look like hesitation.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"Your scar."

Ladybug paused. A scar — from a bullet? From a knife? Didn’t Minotaurox's anomaly work properly after all? she thought, but then she recalled that most of her torso was bare, and that the root-like scar she had from Climatika was still there, branching down from her shoulder all the way to the top of her hips. "Yes," she said.

"Is that from when you were tased yesterday?"

"No. It's an old injury. From a terrorist Anom. I barely survived."

Ryuuko breathed in through her nose then. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

Another pause. This time from both of them. Holding the hand was honestly all Ladybug wanted. Talk was secondary, if that.

Then Ryuuko spoke up again, with an almost resigned voice. "It doesn't matter if it's the name you're most used to. I just want to know what you were called before you became… this."

'Before'. Ladybug looked aside at Ryuuko's face. There were still droplets of blood there. Her brain had literally been blown open only centimetres from Ryuuko's face, and yet Ryuuko hadn't caught on. "I don't have anything else," said Ladybug. "I've never been anything other than Ladybug."

"You weren't born as Ladybug. You weren't born with your powers."

"They were my destiny," said Ladybug. She squeezed Ryuuko's hand a little, just to feel a little stronger that she was holding it. "I was always bound to be a weapon."

As soon as she said that, Ryuuko used their clasped-together hands to punch her in the side. Their eyes met and Ryuuko's were sharper than any bullet. "Does a weapon tell its wielders not to shoot at someone? Does a weapon care if someone gets injured? Does a weapon ask to be shot at in place of somebody else?"

Ladybug opened her mouth to reply, then lost her initial conviction. She looked down at the floor. "… This weapon does."

"You're not a weapon, Ladybug."

"I've killed hundreds of people."

"You…" started Ryuuko, but she seemed to run out of steam even halfway through that one word. "You have. But you're not a weapon. You're a person."

"I don't deserve to be a person."

"You put yourself in front of multiple guns for me," retorted Ryuuko, with more force.

Ladybug swallowed. "Yeah, but… I'd heal back from it. You wouldn't."

"You would still feel the pain of every bullet."

"That's different!"

But Ryuuko didn't keep fighting her. Instead she squeezed Ladybug's hand gently, lifting it up into the air. "Please just tell me," she said, and she sounded a little agitated but mostly just… quiet. "I need to know your name. Not Ladybug. The name you used to have. I know you still remember it."

"I don't…"

"It's an order. Tell me your name."

"… Marinette," said Ladybug. Quiet. Tentative. It was the first time she'd spoken the name to anyone in — she couldn't remember. Likely years. She would probably have forgotten it ages ago, if it wasn't the name Adrien used for her. "My name is Marinette. Used to be Marinette."

The hands fell to the soft mattress again. "Marinette," echoed Ryuuko.

"Ye-yes."

"I will call you Marinette from now on."

Ladybug shook her head slowly. A door slammed outside, and feet clopped hard down the infirmary hallway. "No… I'm still Ladybug."

"I don't care. I will call you Marinette. And in return, I want you to call me Kagami. Only Kagami."

The same request as earlier. The same futile, needless request. Ladybug looked up into Ryuuko's eyes and saw that they were a lot less sharp than before. They seemed almost pleading, in fact. "QG says —"

"Don't listen to QG. You aren't just a cog in their machine. You are Marinette."

"But I…"

She stopped by herself when she realised that the feet from before had just come to a stop right outside their doorway. When she looked up to check, she saw a soldier standing there, different from the ones that stood watch outside the infirmary. She let go of Ryuuko's hand immediately and sat to attention.

"Ladybug," he said. "Intelligence wants to see you. You have a field assignment."

She looked aside at Ryuuko. And unlike all the previous times today that Ladybug had looked at her… the girl was unambiguously, unquestionably afraid.

Chapter Text

"Your target for elimination is T.31. Also known as Tiktaalik. Kwami."

"Yes, sir."

"Her anomaly is unusual. She can conjure objects out of thin air, including weapons. It's possible that she uses teleportation to achieve this, similar to Traquemoiselle. You need to be prepared for her to use unusual or unexpected weapons against you, but there should be no prohibitions on your anomaly."

"Yes, sir."

"She is not a significant target. Expect low firepower and limited guards. You aren't ready yet for bigger targets."

"Yes, sir."

"Consider all other personnel present on the premises to be terrorists. Our reports suggest that none of them are Anoms, but they have willingly collaborated with or conspired to hire a murderer. Show no mercy."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Traquemoiselle will arrange for your deployment. Go meet with her immediately."

"Sir."

— she breathed in through her nose. Clutched in her fingers was a loaded and silenced pistol with the safety on; the extended cartridge gave her exactly twenty-one bullets before she'd have to reload. Maybe that would be all she needed, given Damocles's description of the place. And she had a knife, which she would rather not use unless she had to. She wore her usual hooded suit that covered her entire body, and of course her gloves, but if any weapon pierced the suit that would be a way for someone to disrupt Minotaurox's anomaly in close combat. Knives were always best if nobody knew she was there, or when she was alone with her target.

"This is the building you're headed to," said Traquemoiselle, pointing at the red dot on the screen. Other than the glow from that screen, the control room was dark. "Rue Gotlib 8. T.31 was seen entering the building approximately two hours ago, and hasn't left since. She's probably hiding in the cellar network underneath, a Kwami compound."

Kwamis. The third group of terrorists. Their central leadership were all Anoms, according to intelligence. They were also claiming to work for Anom freedom, but… that was a stupid, even evil, goal. Anoms were meant to be kept locked away, because if they weren't, accidents would happen. Cruel Anoms would use their powers to hurt others. Anoms like Minotaurox and Ryuuko were probably safe, even Traquemoiselle's anomaly was useful more than anything else — but that wasn't true for most anomalies. It certainly wasn't true for her own.

Ladybug sighed. That was a thought for another day. Today, she would fulfil her duty and get a step closer to giving Adrien peace.

"You already have Minotaurox, right?" continued Traquemoiselle. "You didn't lose him?"

"No. I have him. I'm ready."

"Roger. Is your tracker earpiece in place?"

"Yes."

"Roger. Call me once you're done and I'll retrieve you."

"Yes."

Ladybug was used to this routine. Maybe a little too used to it. Ever since the meeting with Damocles she'd felt restless, even anxious, had kept looking over her shoulders every minute she walked through the hallways. Her fingers felt itchy, and she kept reaching for her belt even before she had any weapons to hang from it.

But this was the place she should be — had to be. She had to be useful, to help fix the broken world she was in. That was her only purpose and if she couldn't fulfil it, she might as well just not exist. No: if she couldn't fulfil her purpose, she needed to not exist.

Are you ready? she asked Minotaurox.

He didn't reply right away. He was definitely there, but he seemed to be thinking.

It's fine to be scared.

I'm not scared, he thought back. I'm jus'… worried.

That's also fine, she said. She still hadn't been able to give him that guitar — she hadn't even managed to ask him if he wanted it. Maybe she could ask when they returned from the mission. About Safari?

… Safari?

She's under surveillance, you know. You'll be safe. There's no danger to you.

No, not that. I just never been onna mission before.

Oh.

Maybe that meant he would be calmer than her. She had been on missions before, including the one that went so wrong that — she didn't want to think about that right now. In all honesty, she was probably trying to reassure herself just as much as him.

"Are you ready, then?" said Traquemoiselle.

"Yeah," said Ladybug.

Yuh, thought Minotaurox.

"Good. I'll take you to an alleyway close to the building, but out of view. You'll decide what to do from there."

Ladybug reached out her hand. It trembled. But once Traquemoiselle gripped it, the trembling no longer mattered.

🗬 || 🗭

The streets were empty. Ladybug was certain of that, after just half a minute of scanning the area. There were lights on in the buildings that lined the streets, apartments climbing up into the evening sky, but nobody outside except herself. Not even in the lamppost-illuminated park.

She slipped around the corner and moved quietly towards Rue Gotlib 8. There would definitely be guards inside. She kept walking regardless, in the way she'd always been taught. Staying hidden was one thing; staying inconspicuous was another. She went stealthily in shadows but when she got to somewhere that didn't have shadows, she simply moved with confidence and speed. Someone who made their hiding too obvious was always easier to spot. Besides, the longer she took to get there, the longer it would take before her thoughts stopped spinning.

When she reached the spot, the door in was large and wooden. It was, of course, locked. The handle wouldn't even move.

Damn, she thought — an old habit.

Can't you get in?

Ladybug shook her head. I can. I just need to make some noise. Wish I didn't.

The lock seemed like it was electronic, but the door it was mounted on was old. There could only be one keyhole. She positioned her gun against the wood, next to the handle, and shot a half circle of bullets through the wood that surrounded it. She knew a lock couldn't just be shot away; she needed to crack the wood enough that she could kick it the rest of the way open. And even with the silencer, every shot still sounded loud in the otherwise quiet dark around her. Wood shrapnel and ricocheting bullets scraped her, but that was immaterial. She'd heal it all anyway.

… Are you okay? thought Minotaurox, after a door fragment cut open the arm of her jacket.

"Yeah," she said, before firing another shot. "Almost done."

Two, three more shots. Her magazine was half empty by now; she took a step back and kicked hard against the wood. The wood crackled, but didn't break; the second kick finally snapped the connection to the handle and sent the door swerving open. Gun raised, she stepped in through the opening and turned to the right.

Or tried to. But she was struck hard in the back of the head as soon as she came inside, and tumbled forwards onto the hard stone floor inside. She could feel her skull crack, but it didn't outright break; even so, she let herself fall in a way that would look convincing.

"I got 'em!" said a voice. "I got 'em!"

"Yeah," said another. "Careful. What the hell's going on?"

Marinette! Are you okay?

… Ladybug, she thought back. Don't disturb me right now.

"Can't be a burglar, right? A burglar wouldn't shoot the door like that," said the first voice.

"Nah. Look at her hood."

The first voice was about seven feet behind her, at maybe a twenty degree angle. The other was closer to eight feet and around a forty-five degree angle to the other side. Neither of them had moved since she got her hearing clear enough to tell where they were. This was so unusual — in the past, she would have just turned around and killed them, because the strike wouldn't even have fazed her. But now she needed to lie here and pretend while Minotaurox healed her, and they just… stood there talking. Like they were pretending not to be terrorists.

"Oh, God… do you think it's really her?"

"I don't know," said the other voice. They both sounded frightened. "Maybe."

"Army Breaker," said the first. "But isn't she… immortal?"

"Could just be someone pretending. Come on, let's tie her up, she might wake up soon."

"Okay, yeah," said the first voice. His feet sounded soon after — but as soon as he started moving, she span around and raised her gun straight at his dumbfounded face. One pop and the .38 bullet through his skull ensured he would never think another thought. The other guy had recovered enough to raise his weapon by the time she turned hers on him, but he was too late on the draw. She was up on her knees again by the time he hit the floor, and once she was completely upright again she shot them both twice in the heart to fully confirm they wouldn't get up again.

… Marinette? thought Minotaurox.

I told you. It's Ladybug.

Marinette's prettier, he replied.

I just shot two people in the head, she countered. Death wasn't pretty, and she was death. Pretty doesn't matter. Ladybug kills.

He hesitated. Are you… okay?

"Yeah," she murmured, looking around. The room she was in was devoid of activity, and she couldn't hear any noises from deeper inside, either. There was a staircase leading up to her right, and a hallway striking out to her left; she couldn't see what was through either of them, except that there was a door at the top of the stairs. But the building looked — not normal, maybe, but it looked like the kind of thing her memories from outside QG looked. Whether they were her own from long ago or from some stranger she no longer recognised, this was a type of building that might appear in them. Usually, the building didn't have any weapons in it, at least as far as the memories showed.

You feel weird, thought Minotaurox.

I'm not. She started inching towards the hallway opening, careful not to give any indication to people hiding further inside that she was coming. I'm not exactly a normal person, she added. Not a person at all, really. A weight, a burden, who alleviated that burden on others by killing people who needed to die. Death wasn't pretty. It was only necessary.

You feel dif'rent weird.

I don't know.

You shot them like you were mad at them.

Pushing herself against the doorway jamb, she took a deep breath. I'm not mad.

He didn't reply to that. So she spun around and aimed her muzzle down the hallway — no one was there. There was just a passage of about twenty feet, and two doors to the left, and then a set of stairs going down at the end. Yellow lamps lit the way down; the hallway itself had no lights of its own, and the light that snuck in from the stairs and entrance felt almost like it was greying towards the murky centre.

I'm going to check the doors, she thought.

Still no response, but his tertiary level felt [tense]. His quaternary level was silent, though, so she pushed on and opened the first door. It led to a kitchen, with no one inside, even when she circled behind the counter.

Think they might all be downstairs?

Maybe, was his only response. He was a lot quieter than Adrien used to be. Adrien would always comment on things and give reassurances, always calm and collected. Maybe it was unfair to compare Minotaurox to him, when Minotaurox was so inexperienced — hadn't even seen any field work before, either on his own or with her. He was also just a different person.

Even so, though… she couldn't help but hear the ghost of Adrien's voice in her head. 'Go on,' it said. 'You're on top of things. Kill the terrorists. You were made for this.'

— no, he wouldn't say that. He would never have said she was made to kill. Those were her own thoughts, pretending to be him, and her thoughts were correct but Adrien hadn't been the type of person to tell her that. It was one of the traits he and Minotaurox shared: they were both all too happy to imagine her as someone she wasn't.

Her heart beat faster as she left the kitchen and went back into the hallway. The second door — a sitting room of some kind, with no hiding places whatsoever, so she didn't even step inside: she just swung the door all the way open.

Still no one. There was something eerily familiar about this, a place that was supposed to be a terrorist hideout, but so far she'd only seen two people. Even though she fired ten shots at the door and six more at the two guards. That should have alerted people by now, and she really hoped that they were just lying in wait deeper within. Intelligence said that T.31 was here, but… could this also be a distraction? Like with T.05 and Safari and Adrien…

Marinette, thought Minotaurox.

She sighed. Ladybug. I'm Ladybug.

I'll only call you Ladybug if you start calling me Ivan.

Okay. She moved on towards the stairs, which seemed solid enough, but the steps were narrow. The wall was coarse wood, probably fastened on concrete. Someting that shouldn't be there, like… the name Minotaurox. He didn't need to live as Minotaurox the way she needed to live as Ladybug. He would get free one day and find a home and wife in a peaceful world. I'll call you Ivan.

… Thank you, he replied. He sounded disappointed, somehow.

Her first step down the stairs was tentative, just to hear how much noise it would make. She would be audible, at least if there weren't doors inbetween her and anyone downstairs, but if she was careful the wood wouldn't creak that much. There were no signs of tripwires, alarms, or other traps anywhere. Obviously not, it was stupid to trap a stronghold if people were going to walk in and out all the time. Still, she walked with caution and listened very closely for any indication of terrorists.

Mino— I mean, Ivan, she thought as she took the second step. I'm worried.

Why?

She continued downwards. Last time I was on a mission… there was nobody there. And then Adrien…

Yeah, he thought. But there were people here.

Two. Same as last time. The floor downstairs seemed to be made of terracotta tiles. There was a corridor down here… and three doors, one at each side and one at the end. Her breaths grew shallower with every step now. It's way too similar…

It's gotta be fine. He didn't feel troubled. No — he felt like he was trying to be reassuring.

You don't know that. You can't see where your body is, she thought as she walked into the corridor. It smelled the same as the other one did, except earthier. Like… a grave. What if Safari's there?

I dunno. Don't think she is.

She came up to the first door on the left. The same door that Ryuuko had been hidden behind. Her hands were trembling again. If you feel anything, or anything seems wrong, tell me. I can't lose you too.

His first response was a hesitant pause. Then he thought, 'kay. 'course.

Hand around the gun, she twisted the door handle and pushed open, and —

The bullet came like lightning through her shoulder. She reeled back, nearly dropped the gun, caught four people inside and saw that they were all aiming muzzles at her. The second shot missed her as she spun out of the way.

"Stay away!" shouted one of them. "We — we'll shoot again!"

Are you okay? thought Minotaurox — no, Ivan.

She gritted her teeth. All the worrying had made her careless, and she'd forgotten to not move with the door. Clutching her shoulder, she waited for the bullet to get pushed out. There were people here — in a way, she felt she should be relieved. But what she really felt, most of all, was a sharp and surging rage. A twisted ball of it expanding from the back of her head and filling up her chest cavity.

I'm going to kill them all, she thought back. The people inside the room… didn't sound like they were moving around. They were probably focusing their all on aiming. That was too bad for them. She could aim from memory. They're going to pay.

Er, he thought.

She ignored him. Clutching the gun, she turned into the doorway and shot in the direction of the person who had been farthest to her right; she hit him in the chest and ducked away as the return fire started.

"Shit! Xavier!"

"I thought I hit them! What the hell?"

"Xavier!"

But she wasn't going to give them time to mourn. She went back into the doorway, certain that they would be distracted, and fired two more bullets. One hit the so-called Xavier once more and sent him falling to the ground; the other struck one of the others in the face, bursting a hole through her cheek. Ladybug hid behind the wall again, as two screams of pain and two screams of horror sounded, and all the screams felt good.

"No! What?"

Marinette! thought Minotaurox.

Ladybug! she corrected him. Two shots left — if she fired now, she would have to reload. That was just fine. It would give her twenty-one more bullets to unload into terrorists. More than she needed, but less than they deserved.

Why're you — he started, but she cut him out completely as she took another move into the doorway, aimed at the woman she'd shot in the cheek, and fired twice more at her kneeling form. Head, gut, another press of the trigger only made a click. Ladybug moved out of the way again; there wasn't even an attempt at return fire this time. She released the old magazine and inserted a new one without even looking at her hands.

Then someone shouted from inside the room. His voice sounded ragged. "Hey! Stop shooting! We surrender!"

"No chance," she called back. "You're all going to die."

"No! Please! We have to get Xavier and Clara to a doctor!"

"They're dead. Just like you will be," she barked.

"No! Please! Why are you doing this?"

Ladybug! Minotaurox thought. They're giving up! Stop shooting at them!

She ignored them both. Spinning into the doorway once again, she took aim, but she couldn't see any of the terrorists — other than the two bleeding corpses. There were two metal bookcases the other two could be hiding behind, and a large wooden desk that looked incredibly sturdy. She fired once at the desk nonetheless, and once more at each of the dead terrorists, and every tightening of the trigger finger — every pop of the silenced muzzle, every hole she made, every single bullet — she felt like the twisted mess at the back of her head lightened a little. Her brain felt less stuffed full. Her shoulder no longer hurt, and hadn't for a whole half minute.

Why're you doing this? said Minotaurox.

They killed Adrien!

Didn't Akumas kill Adrien?

She frowned at air and at him. It's the same thing!

It's not —

I'm getting revenge! For Adrien! For all the times I've been shot and blown up! She fired again, the shot ricocheting off the metal bookshelf; someone inside whimpered. All of it!

But… none'a that was these people, he replied, as she walked inside with her gun raised. Akumas killed Adrien. An' it was QG shooting you.

"They broke my arms," she said, out loud, and her voice was swimming. "They blew my leg off. They choked me with gas. They shot me thousands of times." Her vision started to blur with tears. She walked forward, needed to shoot the remaining two terrorists before she broke to pieces. "They stabbed me with knives."

The rest of the room was a terrified silence. She could sense the uncertainty of the two remaining terrorists, and she hated them for it.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourselves?" she screamed, stomping her foot into the floor.

It wasn't them, said Minotaurox. They din't do anything to you.

"They shot me in the shoulder!" she shouted, and turned around the desk. Both of the terrorists were sitting there. One had a gun in his hand, but the other was unarmed — it was T.31. She recognised the face, in spite of the tears.

"I — I'm sorry!" said the man.

They shot 'cos you shot first, thought Minotaurox.

It's their fault I'm being trained like this in the first place! They're terrorists! she retorted. Her hands sank, not by her conscious choice. It hurts. It fucking hurts. I have to make them pay.

… Is it?

It's —

Her thoughts were interrupted when the man suddenly raised his weapon and shot. The bullet went straight through her forehead, dug into her brain. She almost fell over backwards, but caught herself with a leg. The pain was sharp, but not as sharp as her anger. Not as burning as the memories of a thousand other bullets piercing her at QG.

"You see?" she screamed, and raised her gun again. "I have to kill them! It's the only thing they're good for!" She didn't add, 'It's the only thing I'm good for.' With two clicks of the trigger, she repaid the man with two holes through his head, and then she aimed at T.31. Who sat completely still, with a face almost like a child's. A horrified child's. There were droplets of blood scattered across her face, and the other terrorist lay sprawled backwards over her legs.

They aren't dangerous, thought Minotaurox.

"He shot me in the head!" The bullet fell from her forehead. The pain subsided, except a tiny flicker that joined the ball which was still there in her head, and she channelled it all into her gun. "I hate them! I hate them all! They took Adrien from me! They made it so I have to suffer every day! And I'll kill every single one of them by myself if I have to!"

She shot. A shield — red, with black spots — appeared in T.31's arm just before the bullet cut through her throat. Ladybug stomped closer and fired again, at T.31, at the man, at the floor, at the desk. She emptied the whole magazine, and then she kicked the terrorists, and then she kicked them again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and she cried the whole time. She shrieked and wailed and she could barely control a muscle in her body except the ones she used to kick, kick, kick, kick, kick. And then she collapsed in a sobbing heap on the floor, her knees soaking in terrorist blood.

Marinette…

"I'm L-L-Ladybug," she managed.

D'you… wanna talk about it?

"No. Shut up. Shut the hell up. Shut the fucking hell up."

Please, he thought — and the please echoed throughout his tertiary, quaternary level too. You're hurting. Can I help?

"No!"

Marinette —

"I'm Ladybug," she snarled. "I'm Ladybug."

He paused.

Then he thought, Right now… yeah, you are.

"I've always been Ladybug. I'll always be Ladybug."

He didn't respond to that. She felt her entire crumbling brain force itself against him. Even the pain, which hadn't left her after all when she tried to shoot it into the terrorists' corpses, felt like a ball of knives inside her.

"Say something!" she screamed.

I… dono what to say, he replied.

"Then go away! Back to your own body!" She slammed her fist into a corner of the desk so hard she drew blood, and she sent him away back to QG. Back to his dark, lonely, empty, solitaire room.

Her head was silent. And all her own. Also dark, and lonely, but it wasn't empty. There was far too much inside it to ever be emptied. Her hand didn't start healing. The injury was just a little cut, but the droplet of blood gathering in one corner of it felt like a taunt. A message that no matter what, she would always hurt.

Always.

She eyed the terrorist's gun. It had hurt less than the gun they blew open her head with earlier today.

She thought about going back. Calling in Traquemoiselle for a teleport to the Intelligence wing, so she could deliver her report.

She thought about Rāhu, the brahmin who killed and was reincarnated as an asura. The pool of blood still expanded around T.31 and her compatriot. It stained the floor and made their grey clothes glisten murkily.

She thought about how Adrien was gone — that if she kept taking Ivan's mind out of his body, he would also be gone.

She eyed the terrorist's gun. It somehow hadn't landed in blood, but lay over his hips.

She thought about Ryuuko's hand. The scar that had ruined its beauty forever.

She thought about how her only reason for being alive right now was to kill terrorists, because once the terrorists were gone it would be her turn to die. She thought about how she was death. She thought about how death was necessary.

She thought about how stupid it was for terrorists to be called Xavier and Clara. She was still crying, heaving every breath.

She thought about the future and could see nothing.

She eyed the terrorist's gun.

She crawled forward and picked the gun up by the muzzle. It was still hot to the touch.

She thought about how she was still crying.

She turned the gun to her temple. It burnt, like a friend. She thought about how death was necessary.

She thought about firing.

She fired.

And she thought no more.

Chapter Text

Marinette's eyes fluttered open.

The world was intensely cold. Intensely bright, too. There was a lamp and a distant murky ceiling. Whatever she was lying on was hard and unyielding against her back. The side of her head hurt, and then it stopped hurting. Something clinked, metal against metal, right next to her ear. Her entire body felt weak and queasy and stiff.

Was this bardo? Was she waiting for rebirth? She remembered the bullet piercing her brain, the sharp pain as fragments of her skull exploded inwards and collapsed her mind. Something was lying over her; it felt like a linen cloth, covering up to her waist. It felt incredibly heavy.

"… I'm… ready to be reborn as a flea," she murmured, with dry lips and cracked voice. Just in case there was a cosmic watcher by her, passing judgement on her actions. The judgement would be terrible, but she had to say something, acknowledge her failures. "Or… worse. I'll take… anything other than… this…"

She didn't hear anything. Not at first. But then there was a trembling voice saying, "H-h-h-how…"

The reaction made sense. She had lived a horrible life, full of death and anger and meritless karma. It felt appropriate, if the waiting room of bardo really existed, that she would upset the ones who watched over her as she waited to be reborn.

But when she achingly, slowly, turned her head to the side, towards the voice… she saw Traquemoiselle.

"… What?" she croaked. She would have jolted in surprise, but nothing in her body wanted to move. "Why are you… did you… die?"

"You… you're dead," said Traquemoiselle. "You… you were cold when I brought you in…"

"What are you… talking —" Marinette ended with a cough that drove aches through her entire ribcage. She felt decrepit, her mouth tasted of drywall. Every limb felt like it was made of concrete.

"You died!" wailed Traquemoiselle. "I found you in a pool of your own blood! You've been dead for three days, they, they scanned your brain! You were — you are dead! Why are you still —"

"Please don't shout so much. Someone will hear," said another voice, from the other side of the room. Marinette tried to turn her head towards it, but she found she couldn't push her neck muscles that far. Her neck ached even with the failed effort. "The coroner must have been mistaken. Can you get her some water and food? Warm, liquid food, preferably."

Traquemoiselle stared with wide eyes in the direction of the speaker for a few moments. "But — but, this isn't — what…" she babbled, and then she slowly closed her mouth and nodded uncertainly. A beat later, she popped out of the room.

There was yet more silence. Marinette didn't even dare to try and speak, because she could barely even focus her thoughts right now, let alone steady her tongue.

The unseen voice said, "You… aren't dead." The words were very small, almost damp, compared to the command the voice had spoken with only half a minute ago.

"I…" murmured Marinette.

"Three days. You haven't eaten, or drank. You lost more blood than anyone could have survived." Still small. Still bordering on damp. Whoever the speaker was, she sounded fragile as glass. "Even so…"

"Why am… I alive?"

There was the sound of feet clacking on hard floor. Then a hand touched her cheek — and she knew just from the fact the person didn't get sucked into her: no, she knew even from the furrows of the palm, the texture of the skin, the tension of the muscles, that it was Ryuuko. She felt her head get guided to lie the other way and saw Ryuuko's face. It was shadowed by the lights above, but what Marinette could see was somewhere between sour and twisted.

"You're so very cold," said Ryuuko.

"… Yes," breathed Marinette.

"You walked into a house and shot the people who were there," Ryuuko went on. Her voice surged with strength. "For no reason. And then you sent your partner home and shot yourself. You stupid, stupid child."

Marinette didn't feel like protesting. She was just aware, vaguely, at the back of her head, that she might have wanted to.

"How? How are you this way? How can you just come back from the dead?" Somehow, Ryuuko's hand was still on Marinette's cheek, her thumb stroking the temple. Touch — gentle, willing, even though it was paired with insults — it was more than Marinette had ever thought to ask for. "How dare you? How dare you?"

"Ryuuko… what ha…" she half-managed.

Ryuuko stared at her. "You don't know?" The look on Marinette's face was, apparently, enough to convince her; even phrasing the word 'No' felt impossibly hard. "Isn't he inside your head right now?"

If Marinette could have shaken her head, she would have. It felt like every moment of even thinking was draining more energy from her; she wanted to fall asleep. But it was too cold, it was too bright, to even consider resting.

"You've been locked inside this room for three days. Dead," said Ryuuko, like it needed to be said — then again, it did. Dead people didn't come back to life in their old bodies. "Traquemoiselle let us inside. When Minotaurox tried to touch your forehead, he collapsed. And half a minute later, you woke up." As she said the last few sentences, she also reached over next to Marinette's head and picked something up with a soft 'clack'. She brought it up to the light, and it was… a red-crusted bullet.

"… Wha'?" was all Marinette could think to say.

No. Not Marinette. She was Ladybug. If she still stole people's minds away from them…

There was a flash of light again, and Ryuuko looked towards it.

"I brought water and — and microwaved, er, soup," said Traquemoiselle's voice, unsteady even beyond the stammer.

"Good," said Ryuuko. She reached down and put her arm under Ladybug's back, hoisting her up into a sitting position, all the while continuing: "Bring it over here. I'll support her, you feed her, she can't do it by herself."

And then… it just happened. Ladybug just sat there, without even the strength to consider breaking free and barely the strength to swallow, as Ryuuko held her upright and supported her head with a cautious hand, as Traquemoiselle gingerly poured a paper cup full of water down her throat and then refilled the cup with some red and steaming soup from a thermos. From up here, if she moved her eyes, Ladybug could see Ivan lying on the floor. But she couldn't hear him, or feel any of his thoughts. She felt completely empty, but… something was happening in her body. Despite everything, it felt like his anomaly.

She also saw that she was completely naked. The only cover she had was a white cloth that had been draped over her lower body, and it didn't provide any respite from the cold whatsoever. This… was how she had found Adrien, except unlike him, she had just come back from the dead. Soup and water spilled down the sides of her mouth, she felt like her throat was getting blisters, and she was back in the life that she had wanted to escape. The bullet that had ended it was nothing compared to the hundreds more that waited for her tomorrow.

So why… why was she still alive? Why had she been put back into this body that could only torment? Why did her anomaly have to bring her back?

She realised she was crying somewhere in the middle of her third cup of water. Maybe she had wanted to cry the whole time, but she didn't have enough water in her body to cry before. Maybe the realisation had taken this long to hit her properly.

Maybe she had been crying since the start.

"Why couldn't I just die…" she whispered, tears in her voice as well.

"You did die," said Ryuuko.

No… actually, Kagami. It was fine for everyone else to be regular people; only Ladybug was dangerous outside QG's walls. Kagami's immunity, Ivan's healing, Traquemoiselle's teleportation; even Adrien had been safe. All he had was that he couldn't get hurt; he didn't have super strength or knives in his fists.

"But I… I came back…"

"Yes," said Kagami. "Maybe there's a reason for that."

Ladybug wanted to drive the backs of her hands into her eyes. "The reason is… I'm a monster…"

"More soup," said Traquemoiselle — Sabrina. She brought the cup to Ladybug's mouth and the soup went in, then down, with a painful gulp.

"Don't speak," said Kagami. "Try to release Minotaurox instead. We have to move you to somewhere warmer, but we need him to be awake for that."

Shaking her head was almost more than Ladybug could manage. Every muscle felt so stiff she could barely move it. "I… can't… can't feel him…"

"Your body is still recovering. You'll feel him soon enough."

"What if… I can't?" said Ladybug, after another gulp of soup. It heated her inside, but her outside was still cold and her everything was empty. "What if… he died and… I killed him…"

"You didn't kill him. He's in there."

"How… do you…"

She trailed off. Suddenly, she felt it — like a spark in the back of her head. He was there, and he was quiet, but he wasn't gone. Sending him back required no effort whatsoever, not even a word, and she got the cup back on her lips. There was water in it this time, but there were bits of soup in the water too, a mixture of both that somehow tasted of nothing and everything at once.

"See?" said Kagami, as the heap at her feet shifted into life. She didn't smile. "You could do it just fine."

Somehow, it felt like praise and reprimand at the same time. Ladybug lowered her eyes as she finished swallowing the water, and just focused on the arms around her, supporting her. The small amount of heat she could feel from them.

And then Ivan was upright, almost suddenly. His expression was wild as he stared down at her, but he didn't say anything. Instead the wildness faded into apparent hesitancy for a moment, and then he reached down and grabbed the cloth that lay over her legs and threw it over her head, to surprised yelps from both Sabrina and Kagami — and then his arms were around her, and he said, "You're back…"

"Be careful," chided Kagami. "She needs to recuperate."

"She needsa be outta the cold," he replied.

"Yes. She does."

He held her a little longer. Even though his clothes were cold, he was getting warmer. And somehow he wasn't collapsing now, he wasn't getting sucked back into her. Just a thin cloth kept them apart enough that she, at least for a little bit, could be the one inside him. She sobbed against his shoulder.

"Shouldn't we… keep feeding her?" said Sabrina's voice, muffled by the bulk that surrounded all of Ladybug.

"No, Minotaurox is right. I think we should get her out of here. Can you transport us to her room?" said Kagami.

"Er… I can, but I can't do much else after that. My anomaly is pretty energy intensive."

"That's fine. Just make sure you get all four of us there, and bring the soup."

"Sure. Of course."

"Minotaurox. Can you lift her up?"

"Yuh." Soon, carefully, Ladybug felt herself hoisted carefully into Ivan's arms. The cloth covered the parts of her that he touched, like a swaddle around her torso and legs, but her head was free and she couldn't keep it up by herself. It lay painfully limp until Kagami's hand came to prop it up.

Then Sabrina touched Ivan and Kagami, and a moment and a bright blue later they were in Ladybug's room.

"Put her in the bed," said Kagami. "Pull the covers over her, I'll look for a jacket or something."

"'kay."

Ladybug was lowered onto the mattress, and then she got a blanket pulled over her. It was warmer here by a lot, but the chill was inside her, too, and her upper body was only haphazardly covered by the funerary cloth. She lay half propped up against the bedhead, the pillow her only buffer against the metal-rail bedframe, and even that felt exhausting.

"Are you okay?" said Ivan, like there was more than one possible answer to that question.

"No," she replied. "No…"

"How can we help?"

"Just… shoot me again, let me… die… properly…"

Kagami’s voice was stern from the other side of the room. "No," she said, and the sentiment was echoed in Ivan's eyes, maybe even Sabrina's. "You are not going to die."

"But…"

"Ivan has just spent minutes on a cold floor giving you your life back. All of us wanted to pay our respects, so we defied orders and entered the morgue to see you. Your own body contradicted death itself. We are not going to kill you."

"We wanna have you alive," said Ivan.

Ladybug still had tears running down her cheeks. She could barely feel herself crying otherwise, but that weird stripy sensation felt so strong. Almost stronger than anything else. "But… why?" she whispered more than said.

"Because," said Kagami, walking over with a sweater and a jacket in her hands, "we care about you." Without asking for permission, she took hold of Ladybug and started putting the sweater on her, firmly tugging aside the veil beforehand. "You have, unfortunately, captured a lot of people's attention. A lot of those people want you dead." There was a pause that felt meaningful, but it was otherwise muffled by the sweater. "A lot of people only care about you as a tool. But against all odds and reason, some people have decided they like you. Can you wrap your head around that?"

Ladybug didn't even try to answer. Kagami went on to put the jacket on her, and eventually continued, "Let me rephrase. You have to wrap your head around that. It's as important as eating and drinking so your body can recover."

"Why… do I need to eat… and drink when I…van's anomaly heals… anything," said Ladybug. It was childish and sudden, even to her, a lash out that let her avoid the topic.

Kagami stared at her. Then she sat down on the bed and said, "She needs more soup. And water. Soup first."

"Okay," said Sabrina. She looked ginger for a moment, then handed the cup and thermos to Ivan; Kagami propped Ladybug up the same as before, back and neck. It was such a distant touch compared to what they usually shared, so muffled by two layers of cloth, but the back of her hand sent shockwaves into the tiny part of skin it touched above Ladybug's collar.

"My guess is," said Kagami as Ivan led the cup to Ladybug's lips, "that he could repair you but not give you the nutrients you need to live. Your body needs more than just anomalies, Marinette. It can't live just from being put back together again."

Ladybug swallowed. Her lips tingled painfully. "Ladybug…"

"You were dead for three days," said Ivan, pointlessly, like he hadn’t heard every time the others had said that, and he had more soup that he poured down her throat.

"You don’t know much about how it feels to be alive, do you, Marinette?" said Kagami. It was both an insult and not. "You have spent your entire life in this place. All you know is the military. You never had another life."

"I… used to be… different," said Ladybug, before Ivan gave her a cup of water.

"That's not what you told me the day you died," said Kagami.

"I…"

"I think QG have been depriving you of what it means to live. You are a tool to them, nothing more and nothing less. If you stop being a tool, they want you dead."

The room was silent except for Ladybug's huffs and gulps. Then Sabrina said in a quiet voice, "That's not true. She's QG's top agent. They value her very highly."

"Ah," said Kagami. She frowned at nothing, or at the floor, before turning towards Sabrina with a smile that seemed forced even to Ladybug. "You're right. I spoke in anger. I was upset that they locked her body away."

"I understand," said Sabrina. She threw a glance Ladybug's way. "But you don't need to make her worry. Everyone here wants her best, I know it."

Silence fell between them. But Ivan's eyes were fiery as he poured the last of the soup into Ladybug's mouth. "Did QG also tell her she's just a weapon?" he said, quietly intense.

"What?" said Sabrina.

"Did they say she gotta die once there's peace?"

Sabrina shook her head. "No, no, nobody would ever… does she really think —"

"'course she does!" he barked, but despite the anger in his voice, his entire body was calm and relaxed as he poured more water into the cup. "And someone gotta have told it her!"

"Ivan… no…" murmured Ladybug, as the cup approached her lips. But she quieted down as the water touched her mouth, and dutifully drank everything. When he pulled away to refill the cup, though, she tried again: "Ivan…. please don't…"

"Why did you do it?" he replied, pouring even more water. He was still so relaxed, in his body. "Why'd you shoot yourself?" And then, without waiting for an answer, he brought the cup to her lips again. "Why did you send me back?"

She swallowed rough. "Because… because I need to die…"

He didn’t reply to that. Not at first. He just stepped back and lowered the cup, and then his eyes seemed to fall even though they were still aimed at her, and his frown flattened out. "You don’t," he said.

"I agree with him," said Sabrina. "We need you here. You are very valuable to our operation, and always easy to work with."

Ivan's expression darkened considerably somewhere around the word 'operation'. "She's not a tool," he said. "She's a friend."

"Well, leadership still knows she's extremely useful," said Sabrina, before turning back to Ladybug. "You're wanted here, Ladybug," she said, with a brief and small smile for punctuation.

"Marinette!" said Ivan. His hand became a fist around the cup, squeezing it. "Marinette…"

But before Ladybug could protest that she wasn’t Marinette, Kagami spoke up again. "Minotaurox, Traquemoiselle," she said, squeezing Ladybug's shoulders. "Marinette needs more food and water. I would like you to get her some more."

"I can’t teleport right now," said Sabrina.

"You can walk. She needs it, or she won't recover," said Kagami. She seemed perfectly calm, in the way of a mother explaining things to a child. "Please do as I ask of you."

Ivan raised his hand cautiously. "I'm not supposed to be seen outside…"

"Then nobody will know who you are. She needs nourishment. Please."

Ivan and Sabrina looked at each other, and from their expressions it almost seemed like their prior argument had been buried — or at least postponed. They nodded hesitantly, and then Ivan said, "'kay." Soon they were both trotting out of the room, and Sabrina shut the door with a cautious click.

And then it was just Ladybug and Kagami, alone, separated by veil and sweater and jacket and a mile of air, except for the lifeline that was the hand against Ladybug's neck.

"Are you still cold?" asked Kagami.

Ladybug hadn’t thought about it for a while. There was a chill to her flesh but even as she was aware of that, she could also feel herself heating up. The cells of her body were putting themselves back to work, factories pumping her less stiff again. "Kind of," she said.

"Do you need a blanket? Hot water bottle? More clothes?"

"No… I need to die again," mumbled Ladybug. It was almost a pure reflex.

As, it felt, was the sharp look that Kagami gave her. "Marinette —"

"Ladybug…"

"No. I refuse to acknowledge your childish delusions. You are Marinette and you do not need to die." Kagami clutched her shoulders with fingers that almost dug nails in. "That is an order. You have to stay alive and you have to accept when I call you Marinette, without question."

Ladybug didn't even dare to look aside at her. All she dared was to close her eyes, pull her arms tight into her torso, and whimper a mere "O-okay…"

The sigh that passed through Kagami’s lips felt so distant, despite being only centimetres away from Ladybug's ears. "Marinette," she said, strangely — uncannily — reserved.

"Yes," mumbled Ladybug.

"Okay."

It didn’t matter in the end, anyway. Ladybug was a tool, a weapon, who would be used until she broke. Kagami's orders, for all their forcefulness, were not higher than those of QG.

The ball of pain was still there. It still crawled around like a caged beast, lunging at her to break the bars that held it. It, too, would destroy her.

She hoped destruction would come soon.

"Can you sit up by yourself?" said Kagami. "Have you recovered enough?"

Ladybug didn't even give herself time to consider the question. If she focused her muscles and put an effort in, maybe she could sit by herself. Maybe she had eaten enough, drank enough, but if she tried doing it by herself and she succeeded she would be forced to let go of the one thing in the world that wasn’t horrible. "No," she said.

"Okay," said Kagami. "Then this might get uncomfortable for you."

"… What," said Ladybug, without the energy to express it with the intonation of a question.

"Marinette… why do you kill people?"

"Why do you…"

"I will not answer why I ask," replied Kagami in the gap where Ladybug drew her breath.

It was a stupid question, though. A weapon was supposed to kill. Like a poison, there was nothing she could do other than disable and kill. Furthermore, the terrorists needed to die to achieve peace. "It's who I am," she said.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes!"

Kagami nodded slowly. "Why do you kill for the government? Why not go out and kill at random?"

"Because — because that's what terr… terrorists do! I'm not a… terrorist!"

"So you kill because…"

"Because I have to," said Ladybug. She almost barked it, then heaved for breath. "Because the terrorists have to… die, or there won't be peace."

"You're a peacekeeper." Again, Kagami spoke with that tone that had two levels to it. The one that made fun, and the one that took things seriously. But there wasn't a bone in Ladybug's body that could protest for as long as she felt Kagami's touch, however faint or blocked off.

"I…"

"Is peace more important to you than QG?"

Ladybug closed her eyes again. "They're the same."

"They're not," said Kagami.

Peace was such a strange concept, anyway. There hadn't been peace for as long as she'd been alive; the revolution was twenty-one years ago, and Ladybug had been born into the terror attacks that followed. She had no concept of what peace could even look like, except… different. Better. Calmer. Fewer bombs, no: no bombs at all.

She thought she had memories from beyond all this. So many terrorists had been older than her. She had even Held older people from QG. But… their memories weren't really trustworthy, because they were muddled together in a soup. She didn't know whose memories said what, she didn't even know if the memories hadn't been intertwined with other memories. Some told her of explosions inside the city, some told her of imprisonment and people with batons. Some told her of families or of buildings and that was all she could really tell about them, because they swam around and together and above and below.

Only a few memories hovered above the waters, like the memory of a mother fainting as they touched. She always worried that a wave would rise to swallow those memories one day.

In some cases, she didn't worry — she prayed.

"If we don't stop the terrorists… there will be fighting forever…"

"Do you consider your life to be worth more than that of a terrorist?"

"No," she said, automatically. Then a well of thoughts flowed through her mind. The terrorists that killed Adrien and gloated about it afterwards. "Yes," she said. And then, after tasting the word she just spoke, she continued, "No. No… no, I'm… I'm not…"

"Don't you think terrorists want peace, too?" said Kagami — she sounded so quiet. So meek, so unlike herself.

"If they did, they… they'd stop attacking."

"I think the terrorists want peace more than QG does."

Ladybug shook her head slowly, reached her arm up to grab hold of Kagami's wrist. "You're… a rogue element…"

"I am," said Kagami, a little more forcefully than before. "I'm a rogue element."

"Okay," mumbled Ladybug. She still didn't know if she had the strength to sit on her own, but that didn’t matter. Instead she used the muscles she had to push herself into Kagami, her head falling into the divot between Kagami's shoulder and neck. It was unbearably warm, but she couldn’t not be there, couldn’t not be surrounded by Kagami. "Don't… get caught…"

Kagami didn’t reply at once. She barely even moved, except the minuscule contraction and expansion of breathing.

Then she said, "… You stupid child."

And then she added, an eternity later, "But thanks."

The insult barely even registered. But the simple 'Thanks' echoed deep in Ladybug's bones. A single act of good intent to count against the hundreds of killings she had carried out. Not a counterbalance, but a tiny blip that allowed her to imagine that she wasn’t the worst evil in the entire world. Or at least, that she had something other than the world's worst evil inside her.

"Do you still.. hurt in the hand I cut," she whispered.

"I haven't stopped thinking about it since," Kagami replied, like that was an answer. In a way it was, because thinking was a form of hurting.

"I'm sorry," said Ladybug.

"You will stop saying sorry for preventing me from being shot in the leg," replied Kagami. She sounded more jagged again, and then she breathed in through her nose, which Ladybug felt as a tiny wind. "Marinette. You care so much about tiny details. Start caring about the big things, too."

"I do," said Ladybug. "I do…"

"Your life is a big thing."

Ladybug didn't dare answer. She knew anything she said in response would be received very poorly. So she waited in the awful, amazing heat.

"Other people's lives are also a big thing. Each and every life is big."

"Maybe…"

"You died, Marinette. You were dead for so long that your consciousness should have moved on to your next life. You're still here." A pause. "I think you know there's more to life than what you've had. I think you were brought back to experience it."

"Please let me touch more of your skin," breathed Ladybug.

Another pause. Ladybug didn't even dare look up, to perceive Kagami except through touch, in case that would make the touch less meaningful.

Then Kagami whispered, "Okay."

Then Kagami’s hand brushed against Ladybug's cheek, down her neck, underneath the sweater to leave a burning mark on the skin.

Then, Ivan and Sabrina returned. And the spell broke with the opening door.