Chapter Text
“No,” she said.
“I’m very sorry, Marinette,” Officer Raincomprix said. “I can take you to the hospital now.”
She nodded, heart in her throat. She followed him out of Alya’s house and into a police car.
She wasn’t aware of time passing, but suddenly she was in the hospital. Officer Raincomprix led her through the emergency department, spoke quietly to the clerk at the front desk.
Papa had passed within minutes, before the ambulance even arrived. Maman, however…
Maman was in surgery.
Marinette sat quietly in a chair, awaiting news. Officer Raincomprix had brought her tea, at some point, and she held it without drinking any. It was warm in her hands. That was about as grounded as she was willing to be.
Her leg was bouncing up and down rapidly.
Time passed. Hours, maybe. Probably, definitely, actually. Marinette didn’t feel tired.
Then, finally, a doctor emerged. Grim-faced and serious.
“Family for Sabine Cheng?” she asked.
“That’s me,” Marinette said. She felt… buzzy. Her ears were ringing. Everything was too much.
“Would you follow me, please?” the doctor asked.
She looked to Officer Raincomprix helplessly.
“Do you want me to come with you, Marinette?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” she said.
He nodded, and stood, resting a hand on her upper back. The three of them walked into a small room.
“Marinette, your mother’s injuries were very severe. We did everything we could, but her heart simply couldn’t handle the strain. She passed at 22:34 this evening.”
“No,” she said.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“No!” she said. “No, no, no, no. This-- I can’t. I can’t. I need my parents. Please. Please, I need my parents.”
Officer Raincomprix wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Marinette turned into his chest and sobbed.
She could almost pretend he was her Papa.
ASE arrived within fifteen minutes.
“Marinette,” the social worker said. “My name is Émeline Le Tonnelier. Is it okay if I ask you a bit about your family now?”
“I guess.”
“Thank you. Tom Dupain was your step-father, correct?”
“I… technically. He’s my real father in all the ways that matter. He adopted me when I was five, after he married Maman.”
“Okay. That’s good. Do you know anything about your biological father?”
She shook her head. “Papa is all I need. I… They said that I could ask, if I ever wanted to, but I… haven’t.”
It would feel like a betrayal.
“Alright. In that case, I will need to run a DNA test. You have no father listed on your birth certificate, and we’re legally required to attempt to place children with their closest relative. Do you have any extended family you particularly want to stay with?”
“No?” she said, voice breaking. “My mother’s parents live in China. My father’s parents are… not around. Nonna Gina is never in the country. She travels. Grand-père Roland is… I only just met him! Once!”
“Okay,” Mlle. Le Tonnelier said. “Alright. Do you have any aunts or uncles?”
“Yes,” she said. She wiped a tear off her cheek. “Yes, um. Cheng Wang. He’s my great uncle. He lives in Shanghai. There’s also, um, my aunt. Shu Yin. She lives in London. I’ve never met her… Please don’t make me stay with her.”
“Okay. I won’t. Marinette, this is very important,” she said. “If you had to pick one of your relatives to live with, who would you choose?”
She thought about it. The only relative she had who actually lived in Paris was Grand-père Roland. But… Well. With Kaalki’s teleportation powers, she didn’t have to stay with him.
Nonna Gina would be the most fun to stay with, and supervise her the least. It would also be by far the easiest to hide her activities as Ladybug from her.
She ruled out Shu Yin easily. There was no way in hell.
Cheng Shifu, however… Maybe. Shanghai sounded cool. If Marinette had to move to a different city entirely, why not there?
But then again, he was the one who raised her aunt Shu Yin. He was a very traditional man. It would probably be the polar opposite of living with Nonna Gina, though not as unpleasant as living with Āyí Shu Yin.
But if she stayed with Grand-père Roland, she could continue living in Paris, attending the same school, hanging out with all her friends.
“Grand-père Roland,” she said quietly.
Mlle. Le Tonnelier nodded. “I will reach out to him while we wait for the DNA test results.”
Grand-père Roland picked her up two hours later.
He took her back to the bakery for one final time. Marinette packed her things into a suitcase and cardboard boxes from the store. She labeled each one with neatly printed marker.
Tikki tried to talk to her. Marinette didn’t give her a chance.
She and Grand-père Roland carried out box after box. Grand-père Roland had to use a handcart to move the boxes. His strength wasn’t what it used to be. It took a good number of trips to and from his house and the bakery. They stayed silent the entire time.
Grand-père Roland’s house was quiet. The man himself barely got out of bed these days. The death of his son-- Marinette’s dad-- was hitting him hard, and that wasn’t good with his health as fragile as it was.
He called Marinette out of school for the entire week. She almost wished he hadn’t. There was nothing to do at his house aside from unpack and stress bake. Grand-père Roland was insisting on handling all of the funeral arrangements himself, as well as the sale of the bakery.
The funeral was…
There was a funeral. That was all Marinette could say about it.
Everyone hugged her, she thinks. Everyone was sorry for her loss. She doesn’t really remember much else. It all passed in a blur.
She cried all week, but didn’t shed a tear at the funeral.
Marinette baked, and unpacked, and cried, and fought akumas. A week passed in the blink of an eye. It dragged out for eons, too.
Then Mlle. Le Tonnelier returned with the DNA results.
Grand-père let her in, served her tea. They all three sat down, cups in hands.
“So,” Mlle. Le Tonnelier said. “I have your paternity results back. We have a definitive identity for who your biological father is.”
“And?” Grand-père asked. “Don’t leave us in suspense! Who is it?”
“He’s an American businessman,” she said. “His name is Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce Wayne.
Marinette was familiar with the name. She knew he was wealthy. Very wealthy. Enough so that his name was known even in France.
But that was all she knew.
“Is…” she started. “What happens now?”
“I have contacted M. Wayne,” Mlle. Le Tonnelier said. “He is quite eager to meet you, and would like for you to come live with him if it goes well.”
Marinette looked to her grandfather.
He smiled, sad and watery. “You should go with him,” he said. “A child should be with her parents, not some old man.”
“Grand-père…”
“I mean it, Marinette!” he said. “This is the proper way of things. Children should be with their parents. You need someone who can take care of you, not some doddering fool that you would be a caregiver for.”
“No! No, if you need me, I’ll stay! You’re my family.”
“No,” he said, soft but firm. “Go be with your father. I will be fine.”
Their first visit was supervised by Mlle. Le Tonnelier. At the social services office.
M. Wayne had dark hair and blue eyes, just like Marinette. He must be where she got it. Only his hair was streaked with gray at the temples. He was also ridiculously tall, which Marinette felt was unfair. Sure, his genes were strong enough to override her mother’s rich dark eyes, but not strong enough to give her a bit of extra height?
She should file a complaint. With the kwamis, maybe. There had to be some benefits to having over a dozen tiny gods live with her.
M. Wayne was wearing a thick black turtleneck and light gray dress pants. It suited him, despite being extraordinarily dull. Some silver accessories would really--
He was speaking.
Marinette caught her own name, and not much else.
“Ah, sorry. I… don’t speak English?” she said. “Do you speak French?”
“I do,” he said, switching languages fluidly. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s alright,” she said, even though she fully agreed. Her father was a wealthy American businessman, yes, but she was trying very hard not to judge him. Surely not all men of those demographics were horrifically obnoxious and entitled.
Surely.
“I heard about what happened to your parents. I’m very sorry for your loss,” M. Wayne said.
“Thank you.”
“I lost my parents in a similar incident. A mugging.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said. “And I have been fortunate to gain a large family of my own since then.”
“Oh?” she said.
“You have siblings,” he continued. “Six of them, in fact—”
“Six of them?!” she interrupted. She shook her head. “M. Wayne, I believe your French may be slightly incorrect. Six is this many.”
She held up six fingers.
M. Wayne’s lips quirked. “No, that is correct. You have six siblings,” he said. “The oldest is Dick. He lived with a traveling circus before his parents died, and I adopted him. He’s 30 now. God, time flies. Then there is Jason, he’s 24. He was homeless as a child and tried robbing me, but I just adopted him instead. Cass is also 24, she’s a ballet dancer—”
“Are they all adopted?” she asked.
“No, another is biological. The youngest, Damian. He’s fourteen,” he said. “There’s also Tim and Duke. Duke is 17 and he wants to go to college for social work, like his mother. Tim is 20. He runs my company.”
“Your son is your boss?”
He laughed. “No, I don’t work there. I used to own Wayne Enterprises, but it’s run by people much smarter than me.”
“Oh,” she said. “I thought you were a businessman.”
“Ah,” he said. “I am… independently wealthy.”
Marinette took that to mean that he did not have a job.
Wasn’t that boring? What do you even do with that much free time? Marinette hasn’t had free time at all since she got her earrings. She thinks she would go insane and have a mental breakdown if she had even an hour of nothing to do. Possibly she would get akumatized.
It sounded dangerous, having time for your thoughts like that.
Mlle. Le Tonnelier approved the placement.
Three days later, Marinette was on a private jet to America.