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Some days were harder than others.
Some days, Alya just wanted to stay in bed, pull the sheets over her head and just…stop. Just…let him win. Delete the Ladyblog and pretend that what that lying son of a bitch Gabriel said was true. Shove her head in the sand and ignore the truth. God knows it would be easier.
Other days, she wanted to stay in bed and pretend that Marinette and her family were still here. That their little bakery was still open. That her best friend was only a phone call away. God knows she wished, oh God she really wished that was true.
And some days, she wanted to stay in bed and pretend that this was just a bad dream. A nightmare that she cooked up in her subconscious. Or just an akuma. Something that Ladybug and Chat Noir were fighting at this very moment and normality was only a Miraculous Ladybug cure away. (Well, as normal as it was possible to be in a city regularly terrorised by someone’s bad day.)
At the moment, any of those three options were sounding really, really good right now. God knows it would be easier than getting up and facing…well everything really. The new reality that had happened only eight months ago, when Gabriel Agreste won and Marinette had gone.
“Alya sweetie…”
Alya grimaced at the sound of her mother’s voice. Tentative. Worried. Gentle. All these emotions. All these tensions.
Alya sat up and got out of bed.
“It’s okay mama. I’m up,” she said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m just going to shower.”
All three of those options were looking very good right now, but that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the truth. It wouldn’t bring Marinette back. It wouldn’t be right. And it wouldn’t really solve anything. Not in her heart. Not in her soul.
She opened the Ladyblog and quickly scrolled through the newest messages to no avail. No new posts. Just old messages from when there were questions. And more importantly, people who were still asking those questions.
Her phone buzzed and a new text message popped in. A simple good morning from…well she wasn’t really sure what she considered Adrien to be these days. He knew the truth. He knew that his father was a lying asshole. That Gabriel was Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth/Monarch (couldn’t he just stick to one?). And yet, he had given up. Just…accepted what had happened without even trying.
(Strictly speaking, she knew that wasn’t fair. Adrien really had very little choice in the matter. Gabriel had control over his amok and his freedom. And…well Adrien had his mother back. Who wouldn’t be hesitant?)
Ignoring the message, she quickly showered and dressed. (And tried really hard not to think about Marinette and how she was always late. She failed. She really failed. She ALWAYS failed. The shower wasn’t the only reason why her face was wet.)
The Cesaire family dining room was its normal hectic self when Alya walked in. Her father was busy getting Ella and Etta ready for school, with all of the chaos that the twins could offer. (Which was a lot more than most people would believe possible.) Her mother was sorting out breakfast and her older sister was watching the whole scene with amusement.
On the surface, a picture perfect family. Nothing to indicate the stresses under the surface.
Alya pretended not to notice the looks her parents exchanged as she sat down to breakfast. Pretended to not notice the way that everyone danced around the elephant in the room that was Marinette and Monarch. And pretended that everything was fine, when it so clearly wasn’t.
She was getting really, really good at pretending. She was almost as good as Lila by now. (Now wasn’t THAT a depressing thought?)
“Thanks for breakfast mama,” she said as she stood up and grabbed her school bag. “Adieu everyone!”
“Alya sweetie…” her mother called as Alya turned to leave. Alya turned her head, expecting something…unpleasant.
“Yes mama?” she asked in a nonchalant voice even as she felt her stomach plummet.
“Don’t forget your therapy appointment later today,” Alya’s mother told her and Alya felt her stomach turn. Therapy. Right. Professional help to ‘help’ her to come to terms with the ‘truth’.
She was going to need actual therapy once she revealed the truth.
“Yes mama,” she said, feeling a wave of resignation wash over her. Her mother looked…relieved. Which made sense, she supposed. It was an improvement of sorts over last month, where she wouldn’t have even said anything. Or the month before when she would have pushed back against therapy.
Not that she didn’t want to push back. But…well sometimes you have to pick your battles. (And hadn’t THAT been a hard lesson to learn.)
It took approximately five minutes after leaving her apartment for her to run into one of her ‘fans’.
“Hey, it’s the Ladyblogger!”
Alya gritted her teeth. She really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with this particular pain in the neck.
Unfortunately fate seemed to have other plans.
“So, how are things in the land of crazy? Still hung up on your psycho friend?”
The ‘fan’ was a young man in his early twenties with blonde hair and blue eyes. And apparently he had nothing better to do with his life than harass a teenager.
“Piss off idiot,” Alya snapped and she began to walk faster. Unfortunately that failed to deter him from keeping up with her.
“She fooled you really well, didn’t she? She saw a dumb bamboula girl and had you eating out of her hand, didn’t she?”
Bamboula. Great, casual racism. Because that’s just what she needed on top of having her sanity questioned.
“Don’t you have anything better to do, you pathetic little man? Go away before I have you arrested for harassment.”
The ’fan’ looked up and abruptly recoiled at Ms Mendeleiev’s terrifying glare. Alya wasn’t surprised. Ms Mendeleiev could probably glare a butterfly to the wall.
After a few seconds, the ‘fan’ looked away and left, clearly put off by the power of Mendeleiev’s glare. Alya suppressed the urge to laugh.
“Thanks,” she said and Mendeleiev nodded at her.
“You may no longer be a student of mine, but I still consider you to be my responsibility. Or at least, I don’t want to walk by and say nothing.” She looked at Alya, before continuing.
“In science, we expect proof. We should expect the same from life. And sometimes we have to accept that without proof, we are not going to convince people.”
Alya stared for a moment, trying to decide if Ms Mendeleiev was saying that she believed her or not.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to go to,” she said as she looked over her glasses at Alya. “And you have school to attend. Goodbye.”
Alya stood still for a few seconds as Ms Mendeleiev walked away, still processing what had just happened. It was…odd.
Quickly glancing at her phone, she grimaced and continued walking. Ms Mendeleiev was right, she DID have to get to school!
MLBMLBMLBMLBMLBMLBMLBMLBMLBMLB
Alya really hated this class.
Strictly speaking, she didn’t have to be here. The class was, strictly speaking, an optional extracurricular. Something optional. Something she could skip.
Unfortunately it was also something that her therapist had recommended for her. And her ex-boyfriend Nino had as well. (And she was regrettably certain that he was her ex. She still loved him and he still loved her. Unfortunately he believed Gabriel’s lies and she…well couldn’t get past that.)
And so, here she was, in a classroom full of her former classmates from Collège Françoise DuPont. (Although thankfully without Adrien or Kagami or Felix. That would have just been torture. Oh gods, she hoped, she really hoped, that Marinette hadn’t suffered in the end.)
She blinked twice as her eyes began to water. She didn’t want to cry, not here and not in front of them. They would be kind and supportive and sympathetic and they would still believe the lies of Gabriel Agreste. And that was worse than any amount of scorn they could pour on her.
At least scorn and spite didn’t care.
“Coffee Alya?” Ms Bustier asked gently and Alya nodded.
“I’m glad you decided to join us again, Alya,” Ms Bustier said as she poured Alya a cup. “I have been worried about you. We haven’t seen you for weeks and you were closer to Marinette than anyone else..”
“I was,” Alya said with a slight grimace, before taking the steaming hot cup. “Thanks.”
“”You’re welcome Alya,” she said, before opening a packet of Sablé biscuits and pouring them onto a plate. On another plate, Rose put down a handful of fruit snacks.
“Help yourself,” she said, gesturing to the plate. Alya looked at the plate and grimaced again. The cheap supermarket biscuits were nothing on the biscuits from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.
Alya bit her lower lip and she blinked away tears once more. The Dupain-Cheng family deserved better than what had happened to them. Tom and Sabine had done nothing to Gabriel and his various allies, but he had wiped them out just the same. (Not that anyone even knew, outside of the small group in the know.)
Then again, their family had been utterly devastated by Marinette’s…disappearance. Especially after hearing Gabriel’s lies and the way the media turned their attention to them…well it was no surprise that people believed that they had just chosen to leave.
Heck of a lot more comfortable to believe too. Nobody really wanted to think too deeply about someone just being wished out of existence.
“Don’t you want something Alya?” Rose asked and Alya noticed that everyone else had grabbed something from the two plates and had various drinks in their hands. Alya grabbed a fruit snack and gave Rose a smile she didn’t really feel.
“Now that everyone has settled, we should continue.” Ms Bustier looked at Nathanael. “Nathanael has some wonderful news. Would you like to share it with the group Nathanael?”
The red headed boy looked hesitant for a moment, before speaking.
“Marc and I began working on a new comic together,” he said and Alya felt her stomach drop. This was about to lead into something unpleasant about Marinette, she could feel it.
She grabbed her coffee and took a large mouthful, the scalding hot liquid making her eyes water slightly from the heat. Ms Bustier gave her a gentle, understanding look and Alya looked away.
Kwami save her from understanding by people who didn’t.
“That’s excellent news Nathanael,” Ms Bustier said and Nathanael smiled self consciously.
“Thank you. It’s been the first collaboration we’ve done since Marinette…” His voice trailed off and Alya gripped her cup so hard it was a wonder that it didn’t break. Several people glanced at her briefly before returning their attention to Nathanael, no doubt all thinking the same thing. Poor, desperate, deluded Alya, still clinging onto Marinette’s false narrative.
It was maddening.
“It’s a really hard step to take,” Mylene said, looking at Nathanael and Ivan put his arm around her.
“Yeah, reclaiming your passions after Marinette tainted them is hard,” Ivan added. Alya took another large gulp of coffee, determined to remain silent.
Unfortunately it wasn’t hot enough to distract her as effectively this time. She picked up her fruit snack and took a bite.
“Thank you for sharing this with the group Nathanael,” My Bustier said and several people added their congratulations. She looked at the group and smiled. “We all know how hard it can be to reclaim your hobbies and it’s worth remembering that not everything she did was wrong, despite her terrible crimes.”
Alya felt the fruit snack turn to ash in her mouth.
“For some of us, it is harder to move on. We can hope that one day they too can move forward.”
Several people looked at Alya, who pointedly ignored them. Ms Bustier continued.
“Marinette was a very troubled young woman who was unfortunately not saved from the demons of her own mind.”
Alya felt her hands begin to shake with rage. White hot anger at Ms Bustier, at her classmates, at…everything really. Everything that had happened since Gabriel had won, the lies, the complete lack of justice for her friend and family. It was a mockery of everything she believed in.
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing,” she muttered to herself and Ms Bustier looked at her.
“Do you have something you want to tell the group, Alya?” she asked and took a deep breath.
“Yes,” she said in a very tight voice. “This is fucking bullshit.”
“Alya…”
“No!” Alya shouted angrily, slamming her cup on the table. “No, I am not going to sit here and listen to you talking crap about my best friend!”
“It’s okay Alya. I know that you’re not ready yet. We understand,” Rose said as she tried to hug Alya. Alya turned and glared.
“No! No, you don’t understand! You can’t understand. I KNOW that Marinette was a great hero and I’m not going to pretend that she wasn’t!”
“You heard Gabriel Agreste. You don’t think that she was manipu-“
“Don’t you fucking dare Nino!” Alya shouted as anger flooded through her. “You all knew what she was really like! That girl would never have faked it all! She was a hero in and out of the suit and I am going to prove it!”
Standing up, Alya stormed out of the classroom as burning, boiling rage coursed through her veins. Rage that burned away any semblance of reason or thought.
Rage that didn’t last.
It carried her as far as the nearby park. The same park where they had broken Juleka’s photo curse.
Unfortunately after the rage came the grief. The sadness. The tears.
She collapsed, falling to her knees as the strength left her legs. Tears ran freely down her cheeks as grief threatened to swallow her whole.
After what felt like an eternity, but in reality had only been a few minutes at most, she pulled herself to her feet and walked to a nearby park bench.
Sitting down, she took a few deep breaths.
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.”
Majestia’s words washed over her, providing a familiar sense of comfort and purpose. Alya was no superhero, she knew that. Not anymore. Not like Majestia or Ladybug or Chat Noir. She was just a reporter and not a well respected one at that.
She looked in the direction of Collège Françoise DuPont. It wasn’t visible from this angle, but it was there.
“In science, we expect proof. We should expect the same from life. And sometimes we have to accept that without proof, we are not going to convince people.”
Alya swallowed hard as Ms Mendeleiev’s words floated into her mind. Ms Mendeleiev was not her favourite teacher by any means, but she was very no-nonsense and she was, more importantly, right. Without evidence, she had nothing.
She opened up the Ladyblog on her phone and dived into the archives. There had to be something new, some evidence that she could use that she hadn’t already used.
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.”
Those words were inspirational. Alya loved them and tried to live up to their ideals.
She just never expected it to be so lonely.
Still, as long as she drew breath, she would put the truth out. She would be the light of truth, even if she was the only one.