Chapter Text
# MIRACULOUS: PARIS FALLS
## Episode 1: "The Roommate Reveal"
---
Marinette Dupain-Cheng stared at her laptop screen like it had personally betrayed her.
The numbers glowed back at her, unblinking and cruel. **RENT DUE: €1,200.** Her bank account balance sat just below that—significantly below, in a way that made her stomach clench and her temples throb.
She slumped back in her chair, surrounded by the comfortable chaos of her tiny apartment. Fabric samples draped across every available surface. Three mannequins stood in various states of undress near the window, their blank faces somehow judgmental. Her sewing machine sat on the kitchen table because there was literally nowhere else to put it, and a collection of half-finished sketches covered the floor like a very colorful, very expensive carpet she couldn't afford.
"I could sell a kidney," she muttered to herself, pressing her palms against her eyes. "I don't need two. Designers only need one, right? Less to distract from the silhouette."
The door to her apartment flew open without warning.
Marinette didn't flinch. She was used to this.
Alya Césaire stormed in like a hurricane in human form, her phone already held up in front of her face, filming everything in sight. Her signature red hair was slightly windswept—she'd probably run the entire way from the Métro, because Alya didn't believe in arriving anywhere at a normal pace.
"And we're LIVE!" Alya announced to her phone, her voice carrying that particular energy she reserved exclusively for the *Scarablog*. "Welcome back, Scaranation, to another episode of—"
"Alya." Marinette didn't look up from her laptop. "I'm having a crisis."
Alya lowered her phone, her enthusiasm dimming by approximately ten percent. "What kind of crisis? Akuma crisis? Fashion crisis? Boy crisis?"
"Financial crisis." Marinette gestured vaguely at the screen. "Which is worse than any akuma, because at least an akuma can be defeated by a lucky charm. My landlord cannot."
Alya's eyes lit up with the kind of excitement that usually preceded terrible decisions. She tossed herself onto Marinette's worn couch, narrowly avoiding a pile of fabric swatches. "Good news! I found you a roommate."
Marinette finally looked at her. "Absolutely not."
"Marinette—"
"Last time you found me a roommate, she stole my fabric scissors and joined a cult."
Alya waved a dismissive hand. "That was one time."
"She sends me a newsletter every month, Alya. They worship a pigeon. I get it in my actual mailbox. I have to see it every time I check my mail. The pigeon has a name. It's called Gerald. They have a theme song."
Alya's grin widened. "The Pigeon Cult is very welcoming, actually. I did a whole exposé on them last year. They have great snacks."
"Never again."
"Okay, but this is different." Alya leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with that particular sparkle that meant she was about to say something Marinette wasn't ready to hear. "This is *perfect*. This is Adrien Agreste."
Marinette froze.
Her eye twitched. Just once, but it was enough.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice coming out slightly strangled. "Did you just say the name of the boy I've been hopelessly in love with since I was fourteen years old? That Adrien Agreste? The one I can barely form sentences around? The one who once waved at me and I tripped over air and fell into a public fountain?"
Alya nodded enthusiastically. "The very same! He's finally escaped his father's gilded prison and needs a place to crash. You need rent money. It's *fate*, Marinette."
"No. No, no, no." Marinette was already shaking her head, her hands waving in frantic denial. "I can't live with Adrien Agreste. I can't *breathe* around Adrien Agreste. You've seen me, Alya. I turn into a malfunctioning robot whenever he's within ten feet of me. A malfunctioning robot with a speech impediment and zero coordination."
"You were seventeen when you fell in the fountain. You've grown."
"Last week, he waved at me from across the street and I walked into a lamppost." Marinette pointed at her forehead. "There's still a bruise. I haven't grown."
Alya reached over and patted her shoulder. "That's what makes it fun. You'll be adorable. The Scarablog will eat it up."
"The Scarablog will not be documenting my humiliation."
"Of course not. I'll document it tastefully. With proper lighting and a good angle."
Marinette opened her mouth to argue, but Alya was already talking again.
"Anyway, he's on his way. I told him to meet us here at—" Alya checked her phone. "—right about now. Be cool. Be normal. Be—"
The doorbell rang.
"—too late."
Marinette screamed.
It was a small, strangled sound, the kind of noise a person makes when they realize they're about to face their worst fear in their own home, surrounded by fabric scraps and a questionable couch. She clamped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide and panicked.
Alya grabbed Marinette's shoulders and shook her gently. "Cool," she hissed. "Normal. *Cool. Normal.*"
"I can't," Marinette whispered from behind her hands. "I literally cannot."
"Marinette, if you don't answer the door, he's going to think we're not here, and then he'll leave, and then you'll have to find another roommate, and then you'll be evicted, and then you'll have to move back in with your parents, and then you'll be living above a bakery and I'll have to visit you in your childhood bedroom like we're in high school again."
That got Marinette moving.
She straightened her shirt, smoothed down her hair, took three deep breaths, and opened the door.
Adrien Agreste stood in the hallway.
He was even more unfairly handsome up close, which Marinette had known but somehow forgot every single time she saw him. His hair was slightly disheveled—he'd probably run his hands through it nervously, because Adrien got nervous about things too, which was something she'd learned over the years of admiring him from a distance. He was carrying one duffel bag. One. Like he'd packed everything he owned into a single bag and walked out of the most famous mansion in Paris with nothing but that and the clothes on his back.
He looked like a golden retriever who had just escaped the pound. Confused. Hopeful. Completely out of his element. And absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.
"Marinette!" Adrien's face lit up when he saw her, that warm smile spreading across his face like sunrise. "Hi! Thank you so much for this. I know it's sudden. I know it's weird. I know I probably should have called first—"
"HiAdrienwelcometomyhomepleasecomeinIhaveteaandalsobreadandalsosomestructuraldamageinthekitchencornerbutitsfineyouwon'tnoticemaybeyouwillI'llshutupnow—"
Marinette slapped her own mouth.
Adrien blinked. Then smiled again, and this time it was softer, more genuine. "You're still you. That's... really nice, actually."
He stepped inside her apartment.
Marinette's brain short-circuited. *Adrien Agreste is in my apartment. Adrien Agreste is standing in my living room. Adrien Agreste is seeing my extremely messy apartment. Adrien Agreste is—*
Alya shoved her phone in his face. "Alya Césaire, Scarablog. Exclusive interview: Adrien Agreste, escapee. How does it feel to be free?"
Adrien laughed, a little awkwardly. "I don't know yet? I've been out of the mansion for about four hours. I've had a croissant, I've seen a pigeon, and I've already been recognized twice. It's overwhelming. But good overwhelming?"
Marinette finally unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "How did you even get away? Your father—"
Adrien's expression shifted. It was subtle—just a slight dimming of the light in his eyes, a tiny tightening around his mouth—but Marinette noticed. She always noticed.
"He doesn't know I'm gone yet," Adrien admitted quietly. "I left a note. And a really, *really* long email. And I may have told Nathalie I was going to a photoshoot that doesn't exist."
Alya grinned. "Rebel."
"I'm trying," Adrien said, and there was something fragile in his voice, something that made Marinette's heart ache.
Then the door flew open again.
Marinette turned, her mouth already open to demand an explanation, but the words died in her throat when she saw who was standing in her doorway.
Zoé Lee swept in like she was walking onto a runway—which, knowing Zoé, she probably considered the entire world to be. She was wearing designer sunglasses indoors, which was either a fashion choice or a cry for help, and she was carrying three suitcases, a designer handbag, and a cat carrier containing a very disgruntled Persian cat who looked like it had already formed a negative opinion of Marinette's apartment.
"Marinette! Darling! I need you."
The suitcases hit the floor with a thud. The cat carrier wobbled. The cat meowed in protest.
Marinette stared. "Zoé? What are you—how did you get in? I locked that door."
Zoé held up a bobby pin. "Drama school. Also, your lock is terrible. It took me approximately four seconds." She set the cat carrier on the ground and pulled off her sunglasses dramatically. "Anyway, Mother has cut me off. She's disowned me. She's *disinvited* me from Easter brunch. It's a disaster. It's a tragedy. It's—" she paused, gesturing vaguely, "—a massive inconvenience."
Alya perked up. "Oh, this is *good*."
Zoé nodded solemnly. "I need a place to stay. Just temporarily. Maybe permanently. Possibly forever. I'll pay. I have some money. Well, I *had* money. Now I have three suitcases, a cat, and a dream."
She finally looked past Marinette and noticed Adrien standing in the living room.
Her mouth fell open. Slowly, dramatically, she raised her sunglasses and put them on top of her head.
"Is that..." she breathed. "Is that *Adrien Agreste*?"
Adrien waved awkwardly. "Hello."
Zoé turned to Marinette, her expression one of absolute delight. "You're *collecting* rich runaways? That's so chic. I'm in."
Marinette put her head in her hands. "No one is collecting anyone. This is my apartment. There are *rules*. Two-person maximum. I have a lease. I have a *security deposit*. I can't afford to lose my security deposit."
"Marinette, relax." Alya draped an arm around her best friend's shoulders. "This is perfect. You, Adrien, Zoé, and me. It's like a sitcom. A very gay sitcom."
"I hate you," Marinette muttered.
"You love me."
Zoé was already unpacking. She'd opened one of her suitcases and was pulling out clothes—designer clothes, by the look of them—and draping them over Marinette's furniture. "I'll take the couch. Adrien can have the floor. Alya can share with Marinette. We'll make it work. It's called *teamwork*."
Adrien looked at Marinette with wide eyes. "Is she always like this?"
Marinette stared back at him. "She's the calm one."
Adrien blinked. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. It was a different smile from before—less performative, more genuine. He looked around the chaotic apartment, at Zoé's designer clothes everywhere, at Alya already filming everything, at Marinette standing in the middle of it all with her hands on her hips, and he looked... happy.
"Thank you," he said softly, so only she could hear. "For letting me stay. For—for all of this."
Marinette's heart did something complicated in her chest. "Yeah," she managed. "Of course."
Then Zoé's cat escaped the carrier.
"THÉRÈSE! NO!" Zoé shrieked. "THAT'S MY HERMÈS SCARF!"
The cat—Thérèse, apparently—bolted across the room, trailing a very expensive piece of fabric behind her. Adrien dove after her, which was extremely brave considering he'd only known this cat for approximately thirty seconds. Alya was filming everything. Zoé was chasing both of them. The cat jumped onto Marinette's sewing table and knocked over a cup of pins.
Marinette stood in the middle of it all and watched.
Her apartment was a disaster. Her bank account was empty. She had three roommates she hadn't asked for, one of whom she'd been in love with for five years, and another who had apparently broken into her apartment with a bobby pin.
And she was smiling.
*This is going to be a disaster*, she thought. *But also... maybe the best disaster I've ever had.*
---
Three hours later, the four of them sat on the floor eating takeout.
Zoé's cat had been contained. The Hermès scarf had been rescued. The pins had been gathered. Marinette's apartment looked like a hurricane had passed through it, but at least the hurricane had stopped.
"Okay," Alya announced, pointing her chopsticks at each of them in turn. "Rules. Who's in charge of groceries?"
Zoé raised her hand elegantly. "I'll do it. I have expensive taste. You'll all thank me."
"I can cook," Adrien offered. "Sort of. My chef taught me a few things."
Marinette blinked. "You had a *chef*?"
Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "...Yes?"
Everyone stared at him.
"I'm not good at being normal yet," he admitted. "Give me time."
Zoé reached over and patted his knee. "Darling, none of us are normal. That's what makes this fun."
Alya raised her takeout container. "To new beginnings. And terrible decisions."
They clinked containers.
Marinette was smiling again. It was happening more and more, and she couldn't quite decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "To not getting evicted."
"To freedom," Adrien added softly.
"To revenge against my mother," Zoé declared.
"To the Scarablog getting *exclusive* content," Alya finished, grinning.
They all groaned. But they were laughing.
Thérèse the cat jumped onto Adrien's lap and settled there, purring loudly. Adrien looked down, surprised, and then gently stroked her fur.
"I think I like it here," he said quietly.
Marinette watched him. The way his shoulders had relaxed for the first time since he'd walked through her door. The way he was petting Zoé's cat like he'd been doing it his whole life. The way he looked at her apartment—her chaotic, messy, tiny apartment—like it was something precious.
Her heart did that thing again.
She looked away quickly.
---
Two floors below, Madame Dubois was having a very bad day.
She was seventy-three years old, she'd lived in this building for forty-two years, and she had never—*never*—experienced such a disturbance as the one currently emanating from apartment 4B.
"I can hear *everything*," she muttered to her equally grumpy cat, Gaston. "The screaming. The running. The cat. Someone is singing. Someone is definitely singing."
Gaston yawned. He didn't care.
Madame Dubois's telephone rang. She answered it with the same aggressive energy she used for everything.
"WHAT?"
"Madame Dubois?"
"Yes? Who is this?" The voice on the other end was smooth and cold, the kind of voice that made Madame Dubois instinctively suspicious.
"Gabriel Agreste," the voice said. "I believe you live in the building that now houses my son. And several... undesirable individuals."
Madame Dubois's eyes narrowed. "The fashion man? I know who you are. Your son is causing a ruckus. And his friends. And that dreadful cat."
"Indeed," Gabriel Agreste said. "I understand you've filed seventeen complaints with the landlord."
"Twenty-three," Madame Dubois corrected. "I'm very thorough."
There was a pause. When Gabriel Agreste spoke again, his voice was almost... pleased. "What if I told you that there was something you could do about it? Something that would not only silence them permanently but would also... elevate you?"
"Elevate me to what?"
"Power," Gabriel Agreste said. "True power. The power to enforce silence. The power to be heard."
Madame Dubois considered this. Then she considered the noise from upstairs, which was somehow getting louder. Someone was definitely singing now. And someone else was laughing. And there was the distinct sound of something falling over.
"What do I have to do?" she asked.
Gabriel Agreste smiled on the other end of the line. He could feel it. "Just open your window, Madame Dubois. And accept what I have to give you."
The butterfly flew in through the window moments later. Madame Dubois didn't even hesitate. She reached out and let it settle against her cane.
Power flooded through her. Her back straightened. Her eyes glowed.
"I am THE LANDLORD!" she bellowed, and her voice echoed through the building like thunder. "And this building has NOT ENOUGH RULES!"
She raised her cane. Around her, the very walls of the building began to tremble.
---
Upstairs, Marinette's apartment shook.
"What was that?" Adrien asked, his head snapping toward the ceiling.
The shaking intensified. Cracks appeared in the walls. The lights flickered. The cat—Thérèse, who had been peacefully sleeping on Adrien's lap—scrambled to her feet and hissed.
"I think we broke the building," Zoé said, not sounding particularly concerned.
"Wait." Alya's face had gone pale. "Wait, wait, wait. That's not normal shaking. That's—"
A voice echoed up from below, amplified and distorted by the building itself. "TENANTS OF APARTMENT 4B! YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF RULES 1 THROUGH 47 OF THE LEASE AGREEMENT! EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, YOU WILL BE EVICTED!"
Zoé blinked. "Is that... Madame Dubois?"
"She's the Landlord," Marinette realized. "She's been akumatized. She's using the building itself against us."
Adrien was already on his feet. "We have to do something."
"We have to transform," Marinette said. "But—"
She looked at Alya. Alya looked at her. They both knew what the other was thinking. Alya was Ladybug now—the true Ladybug, the one with the earrings and the Lucky Charm. Marinette was Renardette carrying the Fox Miraculous, using her wit and illusions to support her best friend.
They'd made this choice together after the events of the past year, after everything they'd been through. It felt right—Alya's confidence and leadership skills suited the Ladybug role perfectly, while Marinette's creativity and quick thinking made her a natural with the Fox. But they'd never had to reveal themselves to anyone else.
They'd never had to tell Adrien. Or Zoé.
"Can someone explain what's happening?" Zoé asked, looking between them. "Why is Madame Dubois—"
Alya grabbed Marinette's hand and pulled her toward the bathroom. "We'll explain later. Stay here. Stay safe. Don't let the building eat you."
"Wait—" Adrien started, but they were already gone.
---
The bathroom was tiny and cramped, but it was the only room with a locking door.
Alya grabbed her earrings. Marinette grabbed her necklace—the Fox Miraculous, warm and familiar against her skin. She'd been wearing it for months now, ever since they'd made the decision to switch roles.
Marinette looked at her best friend, her partner. "This is insane," she said.
"Everything is insane," Alya agreed. "We'll figure out the explanation later. Right now, we have to save the building."
"Right. Right. Okay." Marinette took a deep breath. "Ready?"
Alya grinned. "Always."
**"TIKKI! SPOTS ON!"**
**"TRIXX! LET'S POUNCE!"**
The transformation washed over them. Alya became Ladybug—the true Ladybug, confident and strong, the suit hugging her like it had always been hers. Marinette became Renardette the Fox, her orange and white suit a familiar comfort, her flute materializing in her hand.
They'd been doing this for months. Long enough that the suits felt like second skin. Long enough that they knew exactly how to work together.
But they'd never had an audience before.
---
The bathroom door burst open.
Ladybug and Renardette stepped out, and Adrien and Zoé both froze.
The building shook again. Somewhere outside, someone screamed. But inside the tiny apartment, everything was suddenly very, very quiet.
Adrien stared at Renardette.
Zoé stared at Ladybug.
The cat stared at both of them, because cats are like that.
"Marinette?" Adrien breathed.
"Renardette?" Zoé whispered at the same time. "You're the Fox hero? I've seen you on the news!"
Ladybug was already moving. "No time for explanations. We have to stop The Landlord before she evicts the entire building. Renardette with me."
Renardette—Marinette—paused at the door. She looked back at Adrien. His face was a complicated mix of shock, realization, and something that looked suspiciously like wonder.
"Stay here," she said. "Stay together. We'll be back."
And then she was gone, following Ladybug out the door and into the chaos.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Adrien stared at the door for a long moment.
"She's Renardette" he said slowly. "Marinette is Renardette She's been a hero this whole time."
"And Alya is Ladybug," Zoé added, looking equally stunned. "I mean, I knew she was reckless, but—"
"The Scarablog," Adrien realized. "She's been blogging about herself this whole time. That's... that's incredible."
"It's insane," Zoé corrected. "But also a little bit incredible."
The building shook again. Something crashed above them.
"We have to help," Adrien decided. "We're sitting ducks here."
"Excuse me," Zoé said, holding up her cat, who had somehow returned to her arms. "I have a cat. I'm not leaving this apartment."
"Thérèse will be fine. We'll be back before you know it."
"I'm not risking—"
The building groaned. Something cracked in the wall.
"Fine," Zoé said quickly. "Let's go."
---
Ladybug landed on the building across the street. Renardette joined her a moment later.
"Okay," Ladybug said, surveying the scene. The entire apartment building was glowing with an angry red light. Madame Dubois—now The Landlord—stood on the roof, her cane raised to the sky. "She's using the building itself as a weapon. We can't attack the building."
"Then we attack her,"Renardette said. "But we have to get close first."
"She's created rules," Ladybug observed. "Look."
Signs had appeared on the building. They glowed with the same angry red light:
**RULE 1: NO NOISE AFTER 8 PM.**
**RULE 2: NO GUESTS.**
**RULE 3: NO JOY.**
**RULE 4: NO...**
Renardette winced. "She's basically turning the building into a prison."
"Then we break her out of it."
Ladybug whipped out her yo-yo. Renardette readied her flute.
"Ready?" Ladybug asked.
"Always," Renardette replied.
They launched themselves forward.
---
The Landlord was ready for them.
"RULE 5: NO HEROES!" she bellowed, and the building's facade warped, sending chunks of concrete and brick flying toward the two heroes.
Renardette dodged, using her flute to deflect what she couldn't avoid. Ladybug spun her yo-yo, creating a shield that sent the debris flying back.
"We need to get close enough to break her cane!" Ladybug shouted over the chaos.
"On it!"
=Renardette leaped forward, her flute extended. The Landlord swept her cane in a wide arc, and the roof itself seemed to surge upward, forming a wall between them. Renardette rebounded off it, flipping backward and landing next to Ladybug.
"She's using the building as a shield," Renardette observed.
"Then we need someone else to distract her."
Ladybug's eyes widened. "Renardette, look."
=Renardette followed her gaze.
Adrien and Zoé were on the ground below, trying to help tenants escape the building. They weren't heroes. They didn't have Miraculous. They were just two rich kids who had stumbled into a disaster and decided to help.
"They're going to get themselves killed," Renardette realized.
But even as she said it, she noticed something.
The Landlord was distracted. She was so focused on the two heroes on her rooftop that she hadn't noticed the chaos happening below her.
"Ladybug," Renardette said slowly. "I have an idea."
---
Adrien was helping an elderly woman out of the building when he heard the sound above him.
He looked up.
Renardette was on the roof, fighting The Landlord. But she wasn't just fighting. She was... taunting her.
"Rules are meant to be broken!" she shouted, leaping over a wave of concrete. "Haven't you ever heard that, Madame Landlord?!"
"THERE IS NO EXCEPTION TO THE RULES!" The Landlord shrieked, swinging her cane wildly. "NO JOY! NO FREEDOM! NO—"
"NO CATS?!" Renardette shouted back. "Because I'm pretty sure your cat, Gaston, would disagree with that one."
The Landlord paused. "Gaston?"
"GASTON!" someone shouted from below.
Adrien turned. Zoé was holding up Thérèse, who was meowing loudly. "GASTON IS DOWN HERE! HE SAYS HE LOVES YOU! HE SAYS THE RULES ARE TOO STRICT!"
The Landlord faltered.
And that was when Ladybug struck.
She swung on her yo-yo, a blur of red and black, and slammed into The Landlord's side. The cane flew out of the akumatized villain's hand, clattering across the rooftop.
Renardette was there in an instant, catching the cane and snapping it over her knee.
The black butterfly emerged, fluttering in the air for a moment before Ladybug caught it in her yo-yo and purified it.
"No more evil-doing for you," she said firmly, releasing the purified butterfly into the sky.
The Landlord—Madame Dubois—slumped to the ground, her akumatized form fading. She blinked, disoriented, and looked around at the ruined rooftop.
"I don't understand," she murmured. "What happened?"
"You were akumatized," Ladybug explained gently. "But it's over now. You're okay."
Madame Dubois looked down at her hands, then up at the two heroes. "I'm sorry. I don't remember much, but I feel like I was very... very angry."
"That's the akuma," Renardette said. "It makes you feel things more intensely. But you fought it. You stopped."
Madame Dubois nodded slowly. Then she looked down at the street below, where Adrien and Zoé were helping the last of the tenants out of the building.
"Is everyone okay?" she asked.
"Everyone is fine," Ladybug assured her.
"Good." Madame Dubois seemed to sag with relief. "Good. Can I go home now? I think Gaston is probably very worried about me."
"We'll take you down,"Renardette offered.
As they helped the elderly woman down from the roof, Renardette caught Adrien's eye from across the street.
He was looking at her. No, he was looking at *Marinette*. There was something in his expression—confusion, yes, but also something else. Something that made her heart do that thing again.
She looked away quickly.
---
Later that night, the four of them sat on the floor of Marinette's apartment again.
The building had been repaired by Ladybug's Lucky Charm. Madame Dubois was safely back in her apartment with Gaston, and she'd already apologized to all her neighbors. The city was safe.
And Marinette and Alya had some explaining to do.
"So," Zoé said slowly. "You're heroes. You've been heroes for... years?"
"Technically, Alya's been doing it longer," Marinette admitted. "I'm newer to it. About six months. We decided to switch roles after everything that happened. Alya's confidence and leadership skills made her a natural Ladybug, and my creativity and illusions work better with the Fox."
Adrien's head snapped up. "Wait. You weren't always Renardette? What were you before?"
Marinette winced. "It's a long story. The short version is that I used to be Ladybug. But after the whole... Monarch situation... we decided to switch things up. New roles, new identities, new... everything."
"So you were the original Ladybug?" Zoé asked, her eyes wide. "The one who saved Paris all those years?"
"That was a long time ago," Marinette said quietly.
"And you didn't tell anyone," Zoé said flatly. "Not even us."
"It wasn't safe," Marinette explained. "The more people who know, the more dangerous it is. Hawk Moth is always watching. Even now, even after everything, there are still threats out there."
"Your father," Zoé said, turning to Adrien. "Your father is Hawk Moth."
Adrien closed his eyes. "I know."
"You *know*?" Marinette's voice went high. "You know?!"
"I've known for a while," Adrien admitted quietly. "I figured it out after the whole... after everything. I didn't want to believe it at first. But eventually, I couldn't deny it anymore."
"He's family," Zoé said, and there was sympathy in her voice. "I understand. My mother is terrible too. Not Hawk Moth terrible, but still."
Adrien laughed weakly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have. But I was scared. I didn't want to believe it. And then I left the mansion, and I thought maybe I could just... escape it."
"No one escapes Hawk Moth," Alya said grimly. "That's the thing. He always finds you. He always finds a way in."
"He found Madame Dubois," Marinette agreed. "He used her to get to us."
"But he didn't get what he wanted," Adrien pointed out. "We stopped him. We protected each other."
"We protected each other," Marinette repeated. She looked at him, really looked at him. For the first time, she saw the scared boy underneath the perfect exterior. The boy who had run away from home, who had no idea how to be normal, who had found a makeshift family in a tiny apartment with three people he barely knew.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "For not telling you. For not trusting you."
Adrien shook his head. "You couldn't have known. You couldn't have known what I'd do."
"What would you have done?" Alya asked.
Adrien looked down at his hands. "I don't know. Maybe I would have run away again. Maybe I would have confronted him. Maybe I would have done something stupid. The point is, you didn't know. You couldn't have known. And you still let me stay."
"It wasn't exactly a choice," Marinette muttered.
"It was always a choice," Adrien corrected. "You could have said no. You could have found another roommate. But you said yes. You all said yes."
He looked around the room—at Marinette, at Alya, at Zoé—and smiled.
"I think I found what I was looking for," he said quietly. "A family. A real family."
Zoé sniffled dramatically. "That is so beautiful. I'm going to cry."
"No, you're not," Alya said.
"I absolutely am." Zoé grabbed a tissue from nowhere. "I've been disowned by my mother, but I've been adopted by you three. It's a miracle. It's a—"
"Okay, that's enough emotion for one night," Alya declared. "Who wants dessert?"
"I want dessert," Adrien said.
"I want sleep," Marinette admitted.
"I want revenge against my mother," Zoé added.
"We'll work on that tomorrow," Alya promised. "Tonight, we have dessert. And we have each other. And we have Thérèse."
Thérèse the cat meowed from her spot on the couch.
Adrien laughed. Marinette smiled. Zoé dabbed at her eyes. Alya already had her phone out, ready to film the moment for the Scarablog.
Outside, Paris glowed under the night sky.
Inside apartment 4B, four people sat on the floor eating dessert, surrounded by chaos, and it was the best thing any of them had ever experienced.
---
Gabriel Agreste stood in his lair, staring at the empty cocoon where his latest akuma had been.
Nathalie Sancoeur stood nearby, tablet in hand. "The akuma was defeated, sir. Ladybug and Renardette were too strong."
"Ladybug and Renardette," Gabriel repeated. "The replacements. The ones who took over from the original duo."
"Yes, sir. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Alya Césaire."
Gabriel's expression darkened. "My son is living with them. My son is living with the very people who are standing in my way."
"Yes, sir."
"Interesting." Gabriel turned to look at the butterflies in their case. "Very interesting."
"Sir?"
"He's making friends," Gabriel said slowly. "He's finding people to care about. And that, Nathalie, is a weakness."
Nathalie said nothing. She knew better than to interrupt when her boss was scheming.
"Send a message to the rest of the team," Gabriel instructed. "The ones we haven't used yet. The ones who are still waiting in the shadows."
"Sir?"
Gabriel smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"I want my son back," he said. "And I want everyone he cares about destroyed. Bring me the peacock Miraculous. It's time we started playing a different game."
Nathalie nodded. "As you wish, sir."
She left. Gabriel turned back to his butterflies.
"Soon, Adrien," he murmured. "Soon you'll come home. And you'll bring the Miraculous with you."
His reflection in the glass stared back at him, cold and calculating.