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The time wasn’t yet 18:00, but Marinette was hard at work at her bench even so. Duusu’s brooch was completely disassembled before her: she had crushed the gemstone parts and melted down the tin, and now she was mixing the salve for curing the magic itself.
It was incredible, in its truest sense — impossible, something that couldn’t be believed — just how deep the wound had gone. She had already decided: the moment Gabriel Agreste set foot on her roof again, she would chew him out for his carelessness. Even though it wasn’t his carelessness to start with: it must be the carelessness of someone who lived over a century ago. Even so… he could have come sooner. He could have visited the old Guardian, and then Duusu would have been free sooner.
She tapped the side of the bowl, carefully so as not to spill anything. It still felt… well, not electric. But the physical sensation on her finger was the same. From the collective memory of guardians that now inhabited her brain, she knew it was just the broken magic grasping for a new host. The slices into something that couldn’t be sliced, asking to be transferred onto something sliceable.
The salve itself was, luckily, not among the most complex. The issue was just the amount she needed of each ingredient: five crushed cloves of garlic, sixteen spoonfuls of linseed oil, ten dried and powdered aniseed fruits, eight drops of water. She had all those mixed together already, ready for the last ingredient.
Which was… three loving smiles.
Magic was at once physical and metaphysical, real and surreal. And she hated it for that.
Maybe she could ask her parents to come upstairs. But they’d be busy with the bakery right now. She glanced aside at the clock: 17:59. So she wouldn’t have time to focus on Duusu for a few hours yet — she’d have to devote all her attention to guests, like a guardian was supposed to.
Thank God for Alya. Actually — thank Alya for Alya. She deserved the praise far more than any god ever could. There was no more homework left to do today, and that was all thanks to her. She’d made maths a breeze, social sciences too. And while she wasn’t as strong in the more diffuse numbers of physics and chemistry, it was just so much easier to do homework with her there to help nudge in the right direction. Across an hour in the park, they’d done everything they needed for the day, and then they’d gone out for boba, and… then Marinette had gone back to her room and her duty.
But the homework was done. That was the important part. She was tired, but the homework was done.
She grabbed the stirring spoon again, and was about to spin it around the salve some more when there was a knock on her skylight. The clock showed 18:01; she put the spoon back down and pushed her chair into the middle of the room, so she could see who her guest was as soon as they dropped in. “Yes?”
The window flipped open. Blonde hair tipped in, followed by a black mask that surrounded sharp green eyes — and of course, there was the requisite grin. All of it upside down.
“Hey, m’lady,” said Cat Noir.
“Come in,” she told him, and let out a sigh. “And close the window once you’re through, okay?”
His eyebrows waggled at her. And yes, she did mean it that way; she wasn’t sure whether or not he was in control of them.
“You want us to be private?” he said, and poured himself into the room like congealing honey. “Don’t mind that one bit…”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” she said, as he locked the latch in place. Once his glove parted from the metal, she lifted her hand — the windows turned the blue that they always did when she stopped time. “Adrien… please call off your transformation. You know it makes you act weird.”
“You think I’m acting weird?” he half-asked, as he threw his arms over the side of the bed, folding them underneath his chin so he could leer at her. “I guess being in love could make anyone behave a little weird…”
She sighed again and looked down at her knees. “Adrien… please.”
For a moment, he was perfectly impassive. Then he ducked away and murmured, “Claws in,” and the bedsheets rustled a bit, until she heard his feet touch the upper steps of the ladder. She looked up again to see his apologetic face smile at her.
“Hey, Marinette,” he said, a lot softer now.
“Hey, Adrien,” she replied, and smiled back. “And Plagg.”
“Hey,” said Plagg, only sticking his head out from Adrien’s hair mop.
“Sorry,” added Adrien. “I have to be Cat Noir to come over, but it makes me —”
She held up her hand. He said that every single time. “Don’t worry. You’re not the only holder that happens to. It’s not your fault, or Plagg’s.”
“Yeah. But still…”
She nodded towards her chaise longue. “Sit down, if you want. What do you need help with? Is Plagg pretending to be sick again? Did you break the ring?” A glance down at his hands showed nothing; his ring hand was covered by the other one.
But his response was to shake his head. “No, I actually… I came here for advice,” he said, and his smile turned smaller. “Are you allowed to give advice?”
Advice. That wasn’t strictly speaking a new request, but she wasn’t used to hearing it spoken so openly. “Advice on what?” she said.
“On hero stuff. I swear I won’t ask about any secrets, I just really need someone to talk to,” he said. “And you’re always so good at listening…”
His cheeks were still pink. Not from the chill outside, because the hero suits held you comfortable down below zero degrees celsius. She nodded, rolled her chair closer to him. “Sit down, then.”
“Y-yes,” he replied, and slowly sank down into a tersely upright position. It didn’t seem very comfortable, but… she didn't know what to do about that.
“So… you know I can’t say anything about other heroes, or villains, or reveal any secrets that are guardians only,” she said. “But if it's anything else —”
“I know. I won't ask anything you can’t answer,” he said and smiled. “I promise.”
A promise that was easier to make than to keep. Sometimes she herself didn’t even know what would trigger the magic, not until her mouth became a bubble blower.
“Okay. Good,” she said. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“You could never disappoint me, Marinette.”
She looked into his eyes and had to believe him. Beyond anything else, Adrien was honest, open like a full grocery bag. He wouldn't say something he didn’t believe with every piece of his heart and every inch of his soul. Oh, he could lie if he had to, he could even lie if he wanted, but — his physicality made it easy to tell. This was something he fully believed.
Still… she knew things he didn’t. How could he not be disappointed once he learnt that his father was Hawk Moth, that she had known the whole time and never said anything, that she had helped Hawk Moth by repairing his Miraculous? It was impossible for anyone's heart to be so big that they wouldn’t hurt from that.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” she said, because it was easier than acknowledging his statement.
He nodded. Once, twice, a third time a little later like he was unsure that amount was okay. “Well… today, after school, I was talking to Plagg in my room. Just about normal things, you see. And he wanted to watch TV.”
“Nuh! I wanted to see Jurassic Park!” protested Plagg.
The kwamis had taken easily to modern living. It was sobering to imagine that humans had created things that could even enthral demigods with the power to unmake reality; then again, in a way, that was also what the ancient sages who made the Miraculous did. Humans in control of unfathomable magic, bending it to their will…
“Why do you want to watch Jurassic Park?” she asked.
“To prove to Adrien — again — that dinosaurs should be killed!”
“He was a little upset when he heard about Mlle du Bocquale's science project on the news,” said Adrien, smiling strained. “But… that’s not really the point…”
She nodded at him. “Please, continue. S-sorry.”
“Okay.” His smile unstrained a little. “We got a bit loud… and then Dad knocked on the door. He asked if I had a guest over without permission. He looked pretty angry with me when he came into the room — or not angry, I guess, he looks worse when he's angry. But he wasn’t happy with me. He didn’t ground me, so… yeah, not actually angry.”
By the time he finished, her heart had been in her throat for an agonising amount of time, beating cracks into her windpipe. Her breath was ragged when she drew it, just before she croaked out, “Did he… did he see Plagg?”
“No. Plagg hid in my jacket. I think I managed to convince Dad the voice was just a video. Don't worry, Marinette. Plagg is safe with me.”
She breathed out quietly. “Okay, that's… good. Very good.”
His smile fell along with his eyes. “But… I really wish I could have told him.”
“Adrien…”
“He’s my only family now,” he said back. There was a sharpness to his voice, to his eyes, but it was padded heavily.
Adrien was an excellent holder. It was just the cruellest joke in the world that his father was the reason he even needed to be one in the first place. He was brave and smart and quick on his feet, he cared more about justice than he could ever care about himself; he loved, unashamedly, even people who didn’t deserve it. And… he was fighting his father, every day, without knowing.
“You can’t tell anyone,” she said. “I’m sorry, Adrien. I really am. But it’s too dangerous. Every person who knows is another chance for the secret to come out, and once Hawk Moth hears who you are, you’re… bad things will happen.”
“I don’t think Dad would tell anyone,” muttered Adrien. The sharpness had already left him, buried once again somewhere in his soul. “He never talks to people. Hawk Moth would never find out.”
She could only look at him sadly. There wasn’t anything she could say; there was no room to even lie. Her breath was arrested before she could even think to shape it into words.
And from between the strands of Adrien's hair, Plagg watched her with curious eyes, as uninformed as his holder. Just like Adrien, he was cooped up every day in a building that housed his greatest enemy, and he didn’t know about it either. Even if he did know, he still couldn’t tell.
Her eyes went back to Adrien. He wasn’t looking at her right now; instead, his focus was on his own hands, twiddling thumbs atop his thighs. She didn’t really know him well enough yet to interpret what he was doing, but she could guess that the general meaning was… he was upset. She, at least, would be upset. Maybe she wouldn’t have wanted to tell her dad, but if she were to hold a Miraculous, there were people she would have absolutely ached to tell. One of them would probably be Alya. Adrien might be another. But most of all, it would be…
She had a crush on Adrien, for a little while. The first day of school this semester, and before that when he was just that hot boy on the posters and it was just a celebrity crush. But when he joined her class she had imagined it might go further, she had dreamed of kids and hamsters and being Marinette Agreste, she had dreamed that dream for almost an entire week.
She might still have had that dream now, if not for Gabriel. No — if not for how she was the Guardian. Every day they met at school, every day he dropped in through her window for Plagg to whine about cheese deprivation, she had to keep him in the dark. She had to leave him at the mercy of a man who wasn’t just a supervillain, but also just a bad and neglectful father. She disposed immense magic that could freeze time or hide people, but she couldn’t tell him just how deep Gabriel’s wretchedness went, or help him break free. And so she couldn’t keep her crush on him, because how could she love him and still lie about a fundamental part of his life?
“Anyway…” Adrien half-said, half-murmured. “I wasn’t gonna ask about telling Dad.”
“Oh,” she said. “Then… what?”
He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he put his chin in his hands, and avoided looking at her altogether for a few seconds before he opened his mouth. “Actually… you already said I can’t. So it doesn’t matter.”
“Adrien… what’s wrong? Please tell me.”
His eyes flashed into hers. Then they fell to the floor. “I wanted to tell Nathalie. Dad’s assistant. She’s been really kind to me since… since Mum died.”
“… I see,” she said, to prompt him. He definitely had more on his mind.
“Nathalie… she fell really sick on Monday. I don’t know why, but she’s been stuck in bed since. Dad said it could be a — a stroke, or a heart attack, or something, he’s not sure… but it’s not good. She’s really weak.”
Marinette rolled her chair closer. “Adrien, I’m so sorry…”
“I tried to talk to her today. She was awake, I know she recognised me, but… her voice was so weak. I only had a minute to talk to her and then Dad said we had to leave and let her rest… she’s sick. Really, really sick. And… I don’t want her to die without knowing I’m a superhero.”
Again — what could she even tell him? What was even possible to say? The ‘no’ already hung in the air between them, but if she said it directly he would suffer and if she gave him false hope by pretending he could, he would suffer even more. She rolled her chair all the way up to him, shifted to the chaise, and put her arm around his shoulder. His head immediately toppled towards her, his hair falling messily against her neck and collar.
“I know I’m not allowed to,” he said shakily. “I’m meant to keep the secret. I just really wish I could…”
“I know. Adrien, I’m so sorry…”
“If… if she dies tomorrow, and I tell her… nobody else would hear. But if she dies tomorrow and I don’t tell her, it’s just… it’s just…”
She pulled him closer, completed the hug with her other arm. Adrien lived on hope: it carried him beyond rhyme and reason. It was what allowed him to sacrifice himself against akumas, because he had absolute unflinching hope that Scarabella and the other heroes would win. It was what led him to see good in a father that had none. But now he was speaking as though Nathalie was going to die, not even allowing for the chance she might not.
Nathalie… she was only an abstract presence in Marinette’s life. Adrien talked about her often, and Gabriel too. Even Kagami mentioned her sometimes, but never with the purpose and care that Adrien and Gabriel did. Marinette didn’t even know Nathalie’s last name, but she sounded very important in the Agreste household. And according to Gabriel, she was in on the secret of Hawk Moth. That alone was all the reason needed not to tell her anything.
But on top of that… the solution to her illness wouldn’t be to tell her and let her die. It would be to heal her, and that was beyond what either Marinette or Adrien could solve. Depending on the sickness, it might be beyond what Gabriel could solve, too.
“I feel so alone,” he whispered against her. “I have Plagg… but if Nathalie dies I won’t have anyone who really talks to me. Not unless Dad…”
“Maybe he will,” she said. He wouldn’t. That was a stupid thing to say. “Adrien… I’m sure Nathalie will be okay. I don’t know her, but she sounds like a wonderful person. I bet she’ll make a full recovery.”
“How do you know?” he said. His voice was almost pure air.
She patted him on the back. “I don’t, but… I believe she’d want to stay alive for you. That’s what I think. And… lots of people survive heart attacks and strokes. Right? My grandmother had a stroke, and she still rides a motorbike everywhere. I’m sure she’ll be fine, Adrien. She just needs time to recover.”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother…”
“No — Adrien, that’s not… she’s fine. Don’t worry about her.” She sighed against his shoulder, squeezed him tighter for a moment. “I’m worried for Nathalie too, but… I’m sure she’ll be fine. Okay?”
He didn’t say anything. All he did was sit there and let himself be squeezed, his hands holding on tightly to her shoulders; he didn’t even sniffle. From his heavy breathing, though, it was easy to tell that he wasn’t calm.
“I agree with Marinette,” said Plagg, from the other side of Adrien’s head. “I think Nathalie will be just fine.” She couldn’t help but wonder if he, too, was trying to discourage Adrien from telling. Her impression of the kwamis’ personalities was incomplete, as it wasn’t part of the memory of the guardians, but she knew Plagg was fully aware — as were all the kwamis — that it was a bad idea to tell anyone. But maybe he did just care that much for Adrien, which… honestly, she could understand.
She didn’t really feel anything romantic for him anymore. Maybe she would, if circumstances were different. But she cared deeply for him as a friend, just like she did Alya.
No — she cared more for him, in fact. That wasn’t because Alya was a worse friend, or less deserving, but instead it was her penance for keeping the truth from him. Alya wasn’t locked into a house with Hawk Moth, and she wasn’t lying to her about that. So Alya… needed less care.
Ultimately, though, it would come out to nothing. Her care couldn’t fix his situation like it could fix Duusu’s, because she couldn’t pour a potion on Adrien and set him free. She was here to repair, maintain, upkeep things as they were, and she was not to put her finger on the scale, and her only option for Adrien was to wait and hope that he would find out about Gabriel before Gabriel found out about him.
He pulled back eventually, slowly, like he didn’t want the hug to end but also needed it to. His face was downed but also smiling, ever so vaguely, as it came into view.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “Thanks, Marinette. I hope you’re right.”
“Me too.” She rubbed his arms and smiled at him. “The next time you come, make sure to tell me about her, okay? How she’s doing, I mean.”
His lip quivered a little. “Th-thank you. I will,” he said, still looking down — and then he looked directly at her and his mouth opened again and he continued, “Marinette, do you think… you could ever love me back?”
It took a while before she managed to look away from him. His cracked emerald eyes were filled with many emotions and they were too messy to be striking, but their multitude and weight made her incapable of not meeting them. “Adrien… you know I have someone else,” she mumbled, as she dropped her gaze to the side. “You’re a very lovely person. Anyone would be lucky to have you. It's just…”
“Yeah,” he replied, breathed in through his nose. “Yeah. I get it. I wouldn’t want to pressure you either, I just… felt like I needed to ask today, I guess.”
She looked up at him again. He was smiling. And he was honest, even genuine: this was the smile he wore earlier, when he said she could never disappoint him. It was the same smile he wore when he came in through her balcony window the first time, after Plagg told him to come visit her — when he was so overjoyed that he was allowed to tell her in specific, that he couldn't stop smiling the whole visit.
It was also different. Because his eyes were tired and anxious. His honesty was just as obvious in sadness as in joy, but both parts of him were equally genuine right now.
“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she said. She would be sending him back to a house that didn’t love him. “But don’t forget. You can visit me any time you want. I will listen to you.”
“Thanks. That means… a lot,” he replied. “And thanks for listening. I think, even if you weren't the only person I could tell… I'd still prefer to tell you.”
She swallowed. “O-okay.”
“You can talk to me too,” said Plagg. “I’m also good at listening.”
“Of course,” said Adrien. “Plagg. Let's go home. Marinette’s working, so we shouldn't keep her.”
He got to his feet and transformed, and the Cat Noir impulses were mostly curbed as she placed the hiding spell on him. He greeted her goodbye with the requisite “M’lady,” and absconded through the window. Only then did she allow herself to sink back in her chair and exhale the depth of her — well, everything.
In a fairer world, he would have known how unreliable she was, he would have known not to talk to her about anything. Because while she could listen to him all he wanted, she couldn’t give him anything beneficial. In a fairer world, he would prefer to tell anybody else.
And part of that was selfishness, too. Because it was stressful to know and not be able to tell, to carry all these thoughts, she was wearing invisible shackles and they were wrapped so tightly around her limbs whenever he came to visit.
She lay limp for a while, staring at the ceiling — but it didn’t take long for the air in the room to get jagged, hard to breathe. The way it always did when both Miraculous and holder was gone. Twisting her hand, she undid the time spell and rolled back to the desk; the pressure immediately lifted.
The concoction was still unfinished. There wasn’t really anything else she could do with it right now: she could have asked for Adrien to smile into it, but it wouldn't be right to. To ask for his happiness and adoration while also keeping it from him. She would ask her parents later instead, once they were through with work.
She tapped her finger against the worktable, sending small waves through the melted tin and the gooey salve, which stood on opposite sides of her hand. In a fairer world… would she have been able to tell him? If the world were only fairer to the point where Gabriel was still Hawk Moth, and still neglectful of Adrien, but she was able to tell Adrien about it… would she do it?
Because she knew she wanted to tell him now. Now, because she knew and couldn't, but if she weren’t the Guardian… would she love him? Would she let that convince her not to say, so as to protect him? Or even if nothing else changed, could she have brought herself to say a single word? Because she didn’t speak in bubbles even once while he was here, which meant she hadn’t even tried.
She kept tapping her finger — tap, tap, tap, without rhythm or aim. It was just in the background while she imagined a thousand scenarios in which Adrien came to her balcony and she said, ‘Your father is Hawk Moth,’ and every scenario ended before his reaction. Like she was scared of it, or of him, or even of the concept of a resolution.
Tap, tap, clink —
She pulled her hand back and screamed. As her head caught up with her eyes caught up with reality, she saw… she had tapped too close to the melted tin, had maybe even tapped the edge of the bowl. And some of the tin had splashed across her hand, only a droplet or two, but those droplets were charged with wild and broken magic. It no longer felt electric, but like a hot knife being pulled across her skin, the edge rasping her flesh apart — and then an actual gash appeared, but it wasn’t the same as the sharp pain. The pain went deep and far, pushing its way up her arm, but the gash stayed put between the first joint of her index finger and down to halfway across the back of her hand. It wasn’t deep and she barely registered it was there, apart from the stinging sensation and the slowly brimming blood.
Merde. Merde merde merde — the scarred magic had sliced its way into her. And now she needed to act fast, or she would be in serious trouble. Carefully, she stood up and got the gem chipper, used it to push the melted tin back into the little censer. Then she turned to her sink and washed off the blood, which had started to drip down the sides of the cut by now. Another jolt of pain from the deeper, invisible slice sent her wincing, but she couldn’t go down and get her parents from the bakery while covered in blood. She wrapped a towel around her cleaned hand and turned towards the trapdoor —
— there was a knock on the balcony window.
She had a duty. She could survive for half a minute while she explained the situation… hopefully. “Come in,” she called out, turning around.
The window opened. Then, graciously, as though carried by wind — Ryuuko entered, hovering slowly down to the bed. Marinette’s heart skipped a beat, then relaxed.
“This bed is unmade,” said Ryuuko, disdainful.
“I'm so glad it's you,” said Marinette as she stopped time once more. “Kagami, I —”
“There’s dust on your sideboard, too.”
Right. This was Longg's influence. “Kagami. Please, I need your help. Please transform back.”
Ryuuko wrinkled her nose and focused on her. “Marinette, you could at least make an effort to look presentable —” she started. But then something switched in her eyes, her lips. She seemed to be looking at the towelled hand. “— Clear skies,” she said, and she was Kagami, and she started climbing down. “Marinette, what happened? Did you cut yourself? You look terrible.”
“I… had an accident,” Marinette explained, as Kagami jumped off the ladder and strode towards her. “It’s a magic cut. I really need your —”
She was cut off when Kagami grabbed her by the cheeks and kissed her roughly, fervently, but also briefly. Only a moment later, Kagami pulled back and let go, and it was easy to see from her eyes that she didn’t need her Miraculous repaired, either.
“How can I help?” said Kagami.
“I… need an ingredient for a mixture. Fast,” said Marinette. “I, I’ll help you afterwards.”
“What ingredient? Should I go down to the kitchen to get it?”
Marinette shook her head. “No, it’s… it’s one of the weird ingredients. I need loving smiles. Three loving smiles.”
“Oh,” said Kagami. But she frowned rather than smiled. “How will the smile get into the mixture?”
“Directly. The whole mouth, er, goes in.”
It was so stupid. Marinette had just spilt magic harm juice on herself — and now Kagami had to push her smiling mouth into linseed oil and garlic. It was a cosmic joke, like the point was to make Kagami debase herself.
Kagami looked at the bowl. Then she smiled. “I’ll help you,” she said. “But only if you tell me what happened while I do it.”
“Yes. I will. Um, and you shouldn’t talk or breathe with your mouth while doing this, because there’s disgusting stuff in it, so not very tasty…” She reached out for the stirring spoon, then adjusted the bowl so it would be easy to dip into. “S-sorry to make you do this.”
“You wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t urgent.” Kagami sighed. “How can I ensure my smiles are loving?”
“Oh, um… think of someone you love, or something you enjoy doing, or —”
“Hold my hand,” said Kagami, and reached hers out.
Marinette did as she was asked. It was the bleeding hand, so there was a layer between their palms, but Kagami’s fingers were hungry in finding places with bare skin to touch. As their grip locked, a sharp pain passed through her lower arm — but she gritted her teeth and kept it inside, and tried to smile in support.
“How long do I need to smile each time?”
“Just a couple seconds. I could count you down. Not super complex.”
“Then I am in your care,” said Kagami —
— and her smile became radiant, burning. Almost without moving her lips, she made Marinette’s heart beat twice as fast.
Kagami leant down towards the bowl. The glance she cast aside just before she dipped her lips in, suddenly reminded Marinette that she was supposed to talk about what happened. “Oh! Um, um, I — what happened. I’m broking a repaired, I mean repairing a broken Miraculous, and — you can take your head out now — and the Miraculous has been broken for a while. Wanna go down again? I could wipe your face if you’d rather…”
For a moment, it looked like Kagami wanted to say something. But then she seemed to realise her lower face was covered in spicy oil, and shook her head. The smile she put on after sent Marinette reeling once again.
“Um. And, and… I've melted it down, but it stays melted because it’s magic even though it’s cold,.” Kagami’s face went in again, “I didn’t get burnt, that’s fine. But it’s, it’s still broken, and it's that kind of broken where… the magic itself is hurt, and if you touch it or wear it… you can come back out again… if you touch it, it kinda hurts you. Loads. Should I wipe your face?”
Kagami didn’t even wait — she dove in again.
“Oh! Right, so. The mixture is technically for the Miraculous, it repairs the magic holes in the metal, but I also need to put it on myself or I might die from organ failure. Hahaha. Nngh,” she added, as another wave of pain ran through her arm. As she did so, Kagami’s hand tensed up. “Okay, ghh… you’re good, you can come up again. Thanks.”
There was no smile on Kagami’s lips when she came back up again. Only a rough frown. Marinette lifted the stirring spoon up and said, “Okay, let me wipe that off of you —”
But Kagami shook her head and pointed to the bowl, then to Marinette’s arm. Her meaning was clear enough; it was also impossible, however.
“I have to stir it,” said Marinette. “One minute until it goes green. Glowy green.”
Kagami's response was to grab the stirring spoon straight out of Marinette’s hand and jab it into the mixture. Meticulously she went to work, shifting the spoon firmly back and forth.
Marinette sighed, and pulled out the paper towels from the upper drawer. “Don’t you feel icky? Here, let me wipe it off, at least…”
One wipe, two, three, and Kagami's mouth was clear of oil. But as Marinette made to wipe again, Kagami shook her head.
“You made it very difficult to smile,” she commented, almost matter-of-factly.
“Right. S-sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologise. You only need to let me take care of you.”
Despite the gentle semantic meaning, Marinette got the distinct feeling that she was being reprimanded. Which almost made her apologise again, but she knew a lost battle when she saw one — or rather, she usually didn’t, but in this case she knew she couldn’t win. “Um, okay,” she said. “I will, but…”
“Because after this, I’ll have to ask you to take care of me.”
Everything inside Marinette shivered to a stop. Only her heart kept beating, ringing in her ears. “Yeah. Yeah, of… of course. Whatever you want.”
Kagami kept stirring, and soon the mixture glowed a minty green. Marinette unwrapped the towel around her hand and, from experience, placed her arm on the desk with the wound up, and Kagami put the bowl down next to it.
“How?” said Kagami.
“Just… smudge some on the wound. And put a stripe across,” she tried to feel how far up the magic had come, then put her index finger across the inside of her elbow, “here. End to end, like a border or… fence, or something like that.”
“Anywhere else?”
“Across my eyelids. One stripe for each.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s absolutely necessary.” Marinette tried a faint little smile. “I’ll deal.”
Kagami sighed, then did as she was asked. And Marinette waited patiently, even as the gash on her hand started stinging from the salve. All the application spots were necessary: to the wound, so as to close it; to the arm, so as to repel the broken magic; and on the eyelids, to purify her spirit. The eyes were also useful because eyelid skin was very thin, but the old guardians did it because the eye was said to be the spirit’s gateway; small pinpoint holes into the miasma where the soul found its home. If you looked into someone’s eye, you might see yourself reflected in them, which was seen as souls connecting: one person visiting another’s inner space. It was the deepest bond that was possible to achieve. Or at least, that was what Marinette figured about it.
But it was too hard to look into Kagami’s eyes. Pupil against pupil, Marinette felt like her face might burn up, get swallowed by the molten gold that lay there — so she closed her eyes instead. And even so, she felt on fire from Kagami’s fingers against her chin, guiding her head into whatever positions Kagami required.
“It just disappears,” commented Kagami suddenly.
“Yeah. It’s supposed to. It goes in, and… does the thing. Still feels slimy, though.”
There was a pause. Then: “It hasn’t gone into me yet.”
“That’s because it doesn’t have anything to do inside you. Um, I’m sorry. I’ll wipe it off you,” said Marinette, opening her eyes so she could find the tissue box again.
“I can wipe it off myself,” said Kagami, with a tone of reproach.
“You can, but you said I’m supposed to take care of you now,” said Marinette, pulling a tissue free. “You said you need it, so —”
She was interrupted when Kagami grabbed her wrist tight. Their eyes met in the shock, and then she couldn’t look away again: she could only keep staring into the empty, seeking holes in the middle of Kagami’s molten gold.
“Did the medicine work?” said Kagami, intense and breathless.
Marinette swallowed. The pain, at least, had subsided. The wound on her hand, she knew, would need to be fixed the normal way — with disinfectant and gauze and time — but if there was anything else broken inside her she could fix it herself later. “Ye-yes. Thank you.”
“Good,” said Kagami. She didn’t let go at once, didn’t stop frowning immediately. “Then… then you may take care of me.”
Speechless, Marinette started wiping. The slime had started dripping down into Kagami’s lap, but most of it was still on her face; it took four more tissues, the last one with a dab of water, to clean her off completely. Their eyes needed to part for that, because Marinette had to see where she was dabbing at, which at least gave her some breathing room. At the end, she licked her thumb to flick away a speck on Kagami’s cheek.
“There,” said Marinette. “I’ll just get one more tissue for your skirt.”
“No,” said Kagami. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re supposed to take care of me. Not my skirt,” said Kagami.
Their eyes met again, this time by Marinette’s own choice. And she could see that Kagami was on the verge of tears. “… What’s wrong?”
Kagami threw herself forward into a hug. It was sudden, but weak, like she wasn’t fully sure if she was allowed to; as Marinette wordlessly reciprocated, though, sneaking her arms around Kagami’s back, Kagami tightened her grip and dug her chin deeper into the nape of Marinette’s neck.
“Do you want to sit down?” said Marinette. There was no verbal response for a little while, so she added, “Squeeze if the answer is yes.”
The squeeze was brief, but noticeable. Marinette waited a few moments, then pushed slowly to her feet without breaking Kagami’s hold. She kept low and looped her arm behind Kagami’s knees, the other one behind her back, and lifted her up — being used to carrying bags of flour in the bakery — and walked over to the chaise longue again. Kagami held on like she was a lifeline. Their cheeks only briefly parted while Marinette put Kagami down, and then the hug tightened even more than before.
It was one of those days again. Kagami was sometimes reluctant to speak her mind, but she was rarely so shattered she wouldn’t say anything; her body only became more honest on those occasions, though, and spoke with a fervour that was impossible to ignore. And Marinette didn’t want to pry about what had put her in this state, because from her experience, the only possible cause was Tomoe Tsurugi. Even after only two months, it had become incredibly clear that if bad parenting were a championship, Tomoe would be in second place to Gabriel, and if Gabriel weren’t Hawk Moth it would have been a tie.
Two months… no, it was a little less than that, actually. Kagami was the last holder to get her Miraculous, and she would have been completely unknown to Marinette if Adrien hadn’t spoken so highly of her; as Kagami didn’t go to school and instead took lessons with expensive tutors, her only point of social contact was D’Argencourt’s fencing academy. So when Adrien heard there was an unused Miraculous whose weapon was a sword, he had taken it upon himself to get her recruited. Because he was a big ol’ softy.
The rest happened so fast. Kagami learnt that she could go to the guardian for advice, she asked for advice after a bad day, and something — whatever it was — happened. And while Marinette was happy to have Kagami, she had no idea how she actually managed to catch Kagami’s attention like that. Especially not since it only took a couple of weeks, and then a single hour.
“Can I care for you in any specific way?” said Marinette. “Should I get you something? Squeeze if yes.” No squeeze. “Do you just want to keep hugging?” A powerful squeeze. “Okay. Tell me when you want something different, though.”
There was no response. But Kagami had heard.
It was terrible, and also untrue, to say that Kagami was Marinette’s second choice. She would have been the first, if she arrived first, the division in that regard being a quirk of timing alone. She and Adrien felt so similar, in many ways: they bottled up their emotions, they were smart and talented at many things, they had terrible single parents. But Kagami had one thing that Adrien didn’t, and that was a parent who wasn’t using a stolen Miraculous to wreck the city and harm their child. In other words, a parent who didn’t require Marinette to keep secrets that she literally couldn’t tell. It was unfair to Kagami to say that was the reason Marinette loved her, because there were many others. But on a day like this, especially after Adrien had asked if she could love him, it was hard not to ask the question herself. If Tomoe Tsurugi were Hawk Moth, would Marinette have refused Kagami’s advances and gone with Adrien instead? Probably — definitely — lying and secret-keeping were the worst things in the world. In a sense, she was happy that her role as the guardian didn’t need to be protected, because she would have choked on the secret if she had to keep it. It was a small mercy among things that weren’t merciful, because even though she was obligated to keep other secrets she didn’t need to keep that particular one.
And now, Kagami was her first choice, and would remain that way. Even when all they did was hug until the sadness went away. Kagami’s hands were always cold but her torso wasn’t, and her cheeks and neck weren’t, and her arms were so passionate that it was impossible to be hugged by her and not feel explosions. And Kagami was beautiful, and attentive, and kind, and —
— and at this point, Marinette was just trying to assuage her own guilt for comparing her to Adrien.
As that thought appeared, she bent her neck and placed a kiss against Kagami’s shoulder, because unlike all the ping-ponging thoughts in Marinette’s head — whether good or bad — this was something Kagami could feel. And Kagami shuddered as though she were actually cold, and Marinette reaffirmed her grip in response.
A short while later, Kagami let go — and then she put her palms against Marinette’s stomach and pushed gently. Marinette took the hint and ended the hug, and they would have ended up looking each other in the eyes again, except… suddenly, Kagami had a glowing spot on her chest. There was a feathery outline round about where her heart would be, with borders shining the same warm colour as her eyes, but it didn’t seem… real.
Or it did seem real. But real in a different way from anything else around her. It looked like it was simultaneously inside and outside and in front of and behind Kagami, like the feather existed in multiple dimensions and Kagami only here and now. Or like Kagami was translucent, but only to the light from the feather.
“Marinette?” said Kagami. “What’s wrong?”
“Um,” said Marinette. She kept staring at the feather. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, and there was nothing in the guardians’ collective memory about this, either. The peacock used feathers, but they were white, and they didn’t go inside people. And Kagami had never used the peacock… was this because of the accident from earlier? Some crossed wires in the magic?
“Sorry,” she continued, stretched her hand forward towards the feather. “I just have to check something… what is that?”
Then her fingers reached Kagami’s front and brushed against her shirt.
“That is my breast,” said Kagami, and Marinette immediately recoiled.
“Sorry! S-sorry! I —”
“I’m not in the mood today.”
Marinette sank together. “I, I just… thought I sasasaw something,” she stammered, which was partly a lie, because it was still there. But she hadn’t touched it, or felt like she was close to touching it. Like an optical illusion, it had seemed to move away from her. “I didn’t mean to…”
As she faded into silence, Kagami’s fingers brushed against the back of her injured hand. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are there aftereffects?”
“Maybe. I don’t know,” murmured Marinette. Maybe it was that Kagami was the one who administered the salve, so she had an afterglow. Maybe it was literally just a hallucination from exhaustion. “I’m fine. The medicine must just be working slow. It doesn’t hurt.”
“You have to tell me if something’s wrong,” said Kagami. “Okay?”
“Yeah. I know,” said Marinette, and put on a vague smile as she looked up. “I’m just tired, I think. And I’m supposed to take care of you now, so… what do you need? What can I do?”
Kagami gave her a pondering look in return. “I don’t need anything particular,” she said eventually.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No,” said Kagami, and her face twisted into a grimace. “You already know what it’s about.”
“… Yeah,” muttered Marinette. “Yeah…” She ended up yawning at the end.
Kagami paused for a while, her grimace fading. At one point, it seemed like she was about to say something, but then she changed her mind.
And Marinette, pushing to help more than planning ahead, took Kagami’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “Do you want to stay for dinner today?”
“No. I can’t. That’s what this is all about,” said Kagami, her voice cracking slightly.
“Then… um…”
“I can come for dinner Friday next week.”
Okay. Good. That was in eight days, a bit long, but still good. “I’ll tell Mum and Dad. We’ll make an amazing late dinner for you.”
“But… I’ll have to leave Longg with you until then.”
“Oh,” said Marinette. “You’re going away?”
“No. I’m grounded,” said Kagami, unhooking her necklace. “I don’t want to talk about it. You can ask Longg once I’m gone.”
Marinette gulped. So she hadn’t really known what this was about, she’d only known the other person involved. “Okay. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”
Their eyes met fully. Marinette gulped again. She couldn’t see a single trace of herself in Kagami’s pupils.
“Can we have a nap together?” said Kagami, like she didn’t want to ask — but needed to nonetheless. Her face twisted, not into a grimace this time but instead into something small and fragile.
“Yeah. Of course, but…” started Marinette, because she knew what Kagami was trying to suggest. “I’m not supposed to use guardian magic that way.”
“I know,” said Kagami, and looked away to the side. “But you’re tired. And if all I get with you until Friday is… is being scared, I just… I can’t bear it. I want to spend time with you.”
“I know. I, I know, I just…”
Kagami’s mouth tipped into a frown. “Do you really not want to spend time with me? That’s hurtful, Marinette.”
“No! I really want to spend time with you. All the time,” said Marinette, horrified. “Of course I do. It’s just… being the Guardian is my duty, and I can’t…”
“… Okay,” said Kagami. She sounded so small. There wasn’t an ounce of protest in her anymore; the fire had vanished immediately. “I understand. You’re the one who knows the rules.”
Marinette was left staring, her heart aching. This was the second time today she needed to send someone home to a place they shouldn’t have to go, the second time she was betraying someone’s trust. And the problem this time was, she did know the rules and she knew that this rule could be bent. It wasn’t as absolute as the magic that stopped her from speaking. She couldn’t keep the time stopped without both a Miraculous and its holder with her: she wasn’t allowed to extend time purely for her own benefit. It was only supposed to be used for the benefit of the Miraculous.
But the sages hadn’t expected guardians who befriended holders. They certainly hadn’t expected a guardian becoming a holder’s girlfriend. There wasn’t anything stopping her from saying yes, except that…
… except that she would be abusing the Miraculous. Not in the same way that Hawk Moth was, not maliciously, but… abuse was still abuse. Selfishness was still selfishness. Rules must be obeyed.
Or so she tried to convince herself. Again and again, as she clutched Kagami’s hand and murmured hollow comforts, until finally she cracked. She couldn’t just care for Kagami in her head; her care needed to be active.
“Two hours,” she said.
“What?” said Kagami.
“We can nap for two hours. And… fuddle. Cuddle, I meant c-cud… you know. That’s a bit of time together. Okay?”
Kagami melted into a smile. “Okay.”
“I’ll just put some gauze on, and then we can rest.”
“No. I’ll put the gauze on.”
They went to bed a little while later, to sleep in their own clothes and each other’s arms. Eventually, Marinette relaxed enough to fall into the same rest that Kagami was already undertaking at her side.
But the feather remained. Orangey gold, burning, hollow… like an unanswered question.