Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng pushed the old, fraying mop across the wooden flooring of the seating area at Sloppy Joe’s: Authentic American. She ran a hand across her forehead to push the black bangs that had come loose from her bun back underneath her red baseball cap. She heaved a sigh, stacking chairs upside down onto tables to get at the ketchup splatters and pulled pork and French fries, which had caked onto the floor after a busy day of serving hungry Parisians.

Over her shoulder, her coworkers sprayed cleaner across the countertops, and gossiped while wiping it.

“I watched the news on my phone before I clocked in. Did you hear about Mme. Renault? She disappeared late last night. Apparently she left her office and never came home. Don’t you think that’s just harrowing?” Aurore said to Michel.

“I thought the crime rate in Paris was going down. Makes you think twice about walking home alone after closing up the Joe, huh?”

“…Well, maybe I’ll need a handsome guy to walk me there to make sure I’m safe…” Aurore’s tone dripped with intention.

“I can be that guy,” Michel flirted back.

Marinette gagged, mopping the floor harder. When she checked her watch, and it was finally time to clock out, she hung her apron up in the break room, grabbed her small purse, and headed out into the darkness.

It was just ten minutes before she got to the door of her apartment, and she did her best to put the key in the lock as quietly as possible. There weren’t any lights on, so her housemates must have all gone to sleep. Marinette opened the door to the bedroom she shared with Alya, her roommate-maybe-best-friend. Marinette wasn’t entirely sure where they stood; they only knew one another because they had both needed somewhere to live while attending Université Françoise-Dupont, a small school located in central Paris. 

Marinette turned her small night-lamp on and checked over her shoulder that it didn’t disturb Alya’s sleep. She opened her academic planner and groaned to herself. Her paper for Chinese Mythology was due tomorrow, and she hadn’t finished it yet. She debated staying up for a moment, but with one glance at the red alarm clock on Alya’s desk, reading 23:46, Marinette squirmed and decided to finish the paper in the morning before class. She quickly changed into pajamas, turned off the light, and threw herself into bed, letting her bones feel just how exhausted they were after a long day.

Of course, while doing so, she forgot to set her own alarm.

Alya’s clock beeped angrily at 09:00 and Alya groaned, tossing the blankets off of herself and walking to the desk to quiet the alarm. Marinette’s eyes didn’t want to open, but suddenly they snapped up like someone had slapped her. The paper! Her class was at 10:00; there was no way she’d finish it and make it there on time.

“Late again,” she grumbled to herself, jumping out of bed and grabbing her laptop to throw herself into the paper as quickly as possible. Alya tornadoed around her, getting ready for her own class, but struggling to find a match to the sock she had on.

“Marinette, have you seen my sock?”

“I haven’t, sorry,” Marinette replied, somewhat robotically. Inside herself she felt badly for brushing her friend off, but this paper was already running on borrowed time.

She finished it at 09:48, packed up her things, grabbed a bite and left the apartment as efficiently as an autumn breeze.

“… Of course, we don’t know everything yet about —”

The door’s squeaky hinges interrupted Professor Fu’s tangent, and Marinette smiled an apology at being fifteen minutes late, probably for the tenth time since the semester started, just a month and a half ago. She found a vacant seat in the very back row of the lecture hall, and slunk down as far as possible, pulling out her notebook and pencil to follow along and attempt to catch up with what she missed.

She methodically wrote down whatever the professor said, but her mind wandered, going over her schedule again. Classes ended at 12:00 today, then her internship at the Parisian Design House, which started at 15:00 and went until 18:00…

Someone speaking pulled her out of her thoughts. She raised her head up a little to get a good look at Sunflower Boy. She knew his name was Adrien; she had learned it the same way anyone learns a name in a lecture class — if the professor called on you enough times because you just had to share. Marinette tried not to be bitter. Adrien probably had a lot of time on his hands, and probably really loved Chinese mythology. He had golden hair that was long enough to start turning up at the ends, framing his face as if he was indeed a walking, talking sunflower. He always sat right in the middle of the front row, he always sat perfectly straight in his chair, and he always had something insightful to add. In other words, he was Professor Fu’s favorite student.

“I realized while you were speaking that the symbol on the first scroll you showed us matches the one on the other scroll, despite both scrolls being from different kingdoms.”

“Good eye, Adrien. Yes, both kingdoms used a similar system for categorizing their mythological texts, and when we examine them side-by-side, we can see that…”

Had Marinette slept less, she was sure she’d make up for it now. Sunflower Boy smiled at the metaphorical head pats he was getting from the professor. Marinette wondered what it was like to be such a brainiac. Sure, she liked school. But kids like him seemed to live and breathe it.

Finally, class was dismissed, and Marinette walked up to Professor Fu before he left, handing him her paper as everyone else had done at the start of class. “Sorry for being late for the hundredth time, Professor. I had to print at the library.”

But the professor smiled, a gentle, knowing smile. “That’s alright, Marinette. I know you have a lot on your plate.”

Her shoulders fell, and she just nodded, relieved to not receive a scolding. 

“Now, you should head out. Don’t want to be late to any more classes,” he said as he packed up his own materials.

Marinette thanked him and sped off, the wheels in her brain turning as rapidly as possible. Onto the next class, and then study time, and then her internship…

Marinette arrived at the Parisian Design House with time to spare. The one place she didn’t like to appear a frazzled mess was here, where her whole purpose was to impress her superiors. If she did so, they might offer her a real position once she graduated, and that would mean making her dream of becoming a big name in the fashion industry come… as true as possible.

She steeled herself, checked her hair in the window reflection, and pushed open the doors. She signed in, waved at Mireille, the front desk intern, and arrived in the fabric room, where she spent most of her time. She was the assistant to Ronaldo Girroult, whose designs were excellent, although he wasn’t getting as much attention for them as he would like. 

“Ah, Marinette! Good to see you. I’m searching desperately for the blue-and-magenta fabric, it says in the catalogue that it’s #4389 but Lord above, I can’t find a thing.” He threw his hands up in the air, and Marinette gave him as confident of a smile as she could muster. The room was a complete disaster. There were huge tubes of fabric rolled out all over the floor, boxes upended, and nothing in its proper place.

“I’ll organize it, and as soon as I find the fabric you want, I’ll run it to your office.”

“Sweetheart, what I would do without you, I cannot know. Thank you,” and he promptly exited the room and returned to his cushy desk. Marinette was left all alone with the fabrics, which seemed to be taunting her with their messiness.

She was making pretty good progress, having collected almost all of the squares of lime-green #9080, when someone screamed.

She froze. It was no scream of laughter, or even of being pranked. This was a shriek. 

Marinette hesitated a moment, debating going outside to see what was going on. Then the building shook a little. Was it an earthquake?

Ronaldo ran past the room in panic, but he came back when he saw her. “Marinette, what are you still doing here?! We must evacuate immediately! Get to the basement!”

“Wha —” but she couldn’t finish her question, because he grabbed her wrist, and they ran down the flights of stairs. Marinette could see Mireille, as well as other interns and designers, flying down the stairs a few steps ahead of her.

They didn’t stop until they reached the basement, and one of the designers turned on a light. They found themselves among boxes of supplies. Hera, the head designer and founder of the PDH, pulled out a phone and tuned into the news. Marinette leaned over to watch as Clara Contard, the events reporter, spoke about the “rampage” — the camera pointed at a huge… beast. It looked like a bear, but it was giant, and it was monstrous. It moved slowly and clumsily, stepping on cars and leaving Parisians scrambling in its wake.

Marinette and Mireille sat close to one another, watching it all play out. Mireille whimpered beside her, covering her eyes and claiming that she couldn’t watch, so Marinette held Mireille’s phone and watched instead, almost in rapture, her eyes glued to the screen. The beast threw its head back and roared angrily, its breath creating a wind that shook the trees. Marinette scanned the background for any outstanding landmarks, since it didn’t seem to be near them. But at the same time, it couldn’t have been too far if they were taking such precautions.

“The monster is currently rampaging down Rue Françoise-Dupont,” the reporter announced, as if in answer to Marinette’s thoughts. She gasped. The school! Her roommates! Her apartment!

She held the phone closer, tighter, as if that could allow her to see more clearly. She clenched a fist in frustration. Why was she here, trapped in a basement, far away from where everything was happening? She wanted to be there, at home with her friends, up close to the monster, to see it move. What was it made of?

“There are currently no known facts about the creature. It seemed to just materialize out of nowhere on the street corner of the university and the Champs-Elysées. Police are currently investigating the matter, but have found no answers.”

Mireille started to wail. “Materialized out of nowhere?! But what if another one appears right now, here where we’re hiding?!” Her voice began to edge on the hysterical, and Hera came to put an arm around her intern.

Marinette bit her fingernails. Mireille did have a point. It made small beads of sweat form on Marinette’s brow. But what was she getting anxious about? There was nothing she could do about it if that happened!

And with that realization came the epiphany. She… wasn’t scared. Unnerved, yes. After all, it was a giant monster. But scared? Marinette furrowed her brow. She was worried for her roommates, dreadfully. It made her feet itch to leave so she could be there with them. But for herself? Not at all.

Why was that? It wasn’t as if she had some one-up, some immunity to danger that her roommates didn’t have. They were all equally fallible. But for whatever reason, Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to be afraid.

She forced herself to watch the news broadcast and ignore those confusing thoughts, instead focusing on Clara Contard’s narration over the footage of police helicopters shooting at the monster, their bullets doing nothing. 

An hour passed. Marinette was starting to feel cramped from holding the same position in the packed basement. Ronaldo muttered about being hungry, but another designer shushed him, her brow knit with concern.

Marinette watched intently as the helicopters flew over with a giant steel net, dropping it over the beast and attempting to trap it. The beast tripped clumsily, caught in the net, and the four helicopters deftly swung to catch the ends, pulling the monster off the street and flying away with it hanging between them.

Clara Contard exhaled and announced, much too cheerily in Marinette’s opinion, “We’ve got it, everyone! The monster has been detained! You are free to come out now, and city services will come and repair the damage as soon as possible!”

Hera dismissed everyone due to “distressing circumstances.” Marinette was just so thankful to finally escape, and she sprinted up the stairs, the only thing on her mind being to get back to her apartment. Was Alya okay? Then she shook her head. Of course Alya was okay. But were Mylène and Juleka — the other girls she lived with — okay? She didn’t know them as well. What if they were blubbering, terrified, like Mireille? Something in Marinette forced her to hurry up. She wasn’t sure what she could do about it if she was right, but anything was better than leaving them there, all alone.

She made a beeline for the metro, and was slightly shaken to see that the streets were deserted. The metro was deserted. Where had everyone gone? Had they really all hidden in their basements? 

She boarded the metro and got off after one stop, at the Françoise-Dupont station, and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, her heart pounding, her mind racing. What would she find when she returned aboveground? 

“Oh, my…” The breath left her lungs. She had seen a hint of it in the news broadcast, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality. All around her, ruin. Cars were flattened. Lampposts bent. Broken glass and rubble scattered everywhere. Giant footprints cracked into the pavement. Marinette looked up to her apartment building, and she thanked all of creation that it appeared unscathed. But she ran as she wondered whether she could say the same about her roommates.

She swung the door open, and Marinette was met by three tearful faces, huddled together in front of the TV. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then they all shouted, Alya jumping up to squeeze her in a vice-grip hug. “Oh, Marinette, we were so worried about you!”

“I was worried about you. It looks like a bomb went off out there,” she said, hugging her in return.

Alya set her down and went to the window, her face falling.

Juleka played with her long hair, the purple streak wiggling around erratically as she ran her hands through it again and again. “I saw the monster from our room. It was horrible.”

Mylène just hugged herself. “What was it? And where did it come from?”

Marinette went to each of them, giving them a reassuring hug, flushing with relief to be back here, with them.

“But how are you, Marinette? It must have been terrible for you, being alone at your internship…” Mylène looked up at her, her nut-brown eyes shining with concern.

“I was fine, the monster was nowhere near me,” Marinette reassured her, although she didn’t admit the truth that was worrying her even now. That even if the monster had been near her, she still wouldn’t have been afraid.

Marinette was disappointed to find that classes were not, in fact, cancelled the next day. She made the mistake of voicing her disappointment during breakfast in front of Alya, who had recovered fully from the incident and was now in full reporter mode. “You shouldn’t be worried, Marinette,” she told her with excitement, “I’ve got alerts on my phone that let me know every update regarding the monster. As of 08:09 this morning, it was still in police custody. And get this,” she pulled her phone back in front of her, scrolling for the right page. “They brought a zoologist in to try and find out what happened with this bear and why it’s so unnaturally huge!” She brandished the webpage in front of Marinette, glowing with pride.

Marinette considered letting Alya know that she was not worried at all, and never had been, but she kept quiet and finished her toast. Instead she mulled over everything that had happened. According to the news the previous night, the authorities were considering it a “freak accident” and a “strange happening,” assuring the public that it was nothing to be concerned over. Alya, being as nosy as she was, didn’t believe it for one second.

Marinette wasn’t sure what she believed. Maybe it really was as they said; a strange happening, nothing more. An unexplainable phenomenon, like ghosts or ESP. Maybe that was why she hadn’t been scared.

But the logical part of her brain argued back that this was nothing like ghosts or ESP — this was real.

  Professor Fu dismissed class early that day, letting everyone know to meet him in office hours if they had questions about their papers. As Marinette packed up, he cleared his throat and said, “Marinette, if you could stay after everyone leaves, for just a moment, there’s something I’d like to speak about with you.”

She froze, her hand halfway in her backpack. “Su— Sure, Professor.” She had no idea what to think. Never in her one and a quarter years of university had a professor ever asked her to stay after before. Was she in trouble? Did she flunk on her paper? Or maybe he decided not to accept it because she turned it in late?

Her legs jiggled with nerves as she waited for everyone to clear out. Finally, even Sunflower Boy Adrien was gone, and Marinette was alone with Professor Fu.

He was a small man, of slight stature, shorter even than she was. He had a small goatee and that was it for facial hair, but being half-Chinese herself, Marinette knew that even a goatee was impressive.

Professor Fu approached Marinette and handed her a paper. It was her paper, she realized. There was a star at the top, which Professor Fu had drawn. “Marinette, your paper was exceptional. It was very clear to me that you did your research with a fine-toothed comb. Do you have an interest in Chinese mythology?”

Marinette hesitated. What was this all about? So her paper was good. Couldn’t he have emailed that? “Not particularly, Professor. I just know, had I not done well on this paper, my grade would have suffered more than it already has, with my tardiness.”

Professor Fu stared at her a long while. “It seems to me that you take your responsibilities seriously.”

“That I do, sir,” she replied, glancing at the clock in the corner. If he didn’t get to the point soon, she was going to be late for her next class.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, can you keep a secret?”

His conspiratorial tone caught Marinette’s attention, and suddenly she wasn’t worried about her next class anymore. “Yes… I mean, I think so, sir.”

Professor Fu turned to his bag, looked at her a moment, and then pulled out a strange looking artifact. He handed it to her, and Marinette, as if in a trance, put her hand out to take it. In her palm rested a ring, rust-colored with splotches of black here and there, and weighing next to nothing. As she picked it up between her fingers, she thought she could discern a bit of transparency from it, as if it was made of glass.

“This is an ancient piece of jewelry, from the eras we have discussed at length during class. Some say it brings good luck. Or, rather, bad luck to its wearer’s enemies. I want you to try it out. As a research project, of sorts.” Professor Fu smiled at her, a disarming smile full of the confidence Marinette wished she had. 

She continued to examine the ring, brought it up to the light, ran her thumb across its smooth surface, completely entranced.

“I’m glad you find it as fascinating as I do,” the professor added at seeing her reaction, and that brought Marinette back to reality.

She was about to open her mouth, and ask him for details on what the research project was, exactly, and how to know when it was over — when the corner of her gaze snagged on the clock, and she saw that she was already running late, once again.

It was all she could do to pull herself away from the ring, slip it into one of the pockets of her backpack, sincerely thank Professor Fu, and run off to her next class.

Marinette went through her day in a daze. She worked her mid-shift at Sloppy Joe’s without seeing the customers she smiled at, without hearing herself tell them their totals and whether that would be paper or plastic. She didn’t really let herself stop and think until she got back to her apartment at 20:00. When she crossed the threshold she checked to make sure Alya wasn’t home, then examined her roommate’s calendar to ensure it would stay that way, at least for a little while. Sure enough, the entire evening was blocked out with a heart-shaped bubble that read “Date Night” inside of it.

She had the room to herself.

Marinette apprehensively sat on the edge of her bed, reached into her backpack, and pulled out the ring from Professor Fu. She told herself to calm her breathing, that this was nothing, that it was just an old ring and had nothing to do with the strange happenings.

But she knew none of that was true, because when she held the ring in her palm again, she could feel it buzzing with a sense of untapped power, as it had earlier in the classroom, as it had all day, entreating her to put it on, to discover its mysteries. 

And now that she was finally, completely alone, she could.

Marinette examined the ancient artifact again, and some of her spirits fell. The ring was much too large for her finger; she would never be able to wear it. Her mind began racing, thinking of other ways, maybe putting it on a string and wearing it as a necklace, but where would she find a string, and did she trust it not to break? It was a priceless artifact her professor had entrusted her with, and —

Her thoughts came to an abrupt stop as she realized she absentmindedly put her thin finger into the too-big ring. Her eyes whipped down to see it slowly shrink, to morph into a completely new shape, and suddenly a green jewel appeared in the center, gleaming with a bright light. Marinette covered her eyes with her other hand to shield herself from it, and her heart started pounding again because there was no other explanation for it: this was a magical ring.

When the light faded, she lowered her arm. All was calm again. What had happened? She looked back down at the ring, and found it was completely unrecognizable. It was now made with many thin pieces of iron braided together, with an emerald delicately encrusted in the center. She examined it closely, holding her hand up to the light to see better.

“That’s a new shape, and quite lovely, if I do say so myself,” a voice called out from near Marinette’s head.

“What?” she almost yelled it, whipping her head about to locate the source of the voice. “Who’s there?”

A creature seemed to emerge from the shadows. It floated in midair, and it was quite small, small enough for Marinette to hold in her hands. She noticed it was pitch black with bright green eyes, the same color as the emerald in the ring.

“I’m Plagg, your kwami, of course,” the creature informed her. He floated about and finally rested in front of her on the bed. “You’ve awoken me from my centuries-old slumber by putting that ring on.”

Marinette examined the ring again. “Centuries old? Are you like the genie of the lamp, or something?”

“Hm, something like that,” he told her, “but I don’t grant wishes. That ring there contains my miracle stone, the miracle stone of the black cat. It’s a physical manifestation of my energy that humans can tap into. Isn’t that convenient?”

Marinette’s head was spinning. “I think so?”

Plagg got back up and floated about her head, inspecting her. As he moved closer to the lamp light, she noticed he had little cat ears and whiskers, which wobbled about as he spoke. He also had tiny little fangs in his mouth. She almost thought he looked sort of cute, although she had the feeling he wouldn’t take it as a compliment if she shared what was on her mind.

“You’re sort of young to wield a miracle stone,” he remarked, with a matter-of-fact tone she was sure meant to offend her. But Marinette couldn’t be offended. Not when she still knew so little about what was happening.

“What do you mean, wield? What does it do?” She stared at the gemstone, instantly struck with the reality of the situation. She was in possession of a magical ring which allowed her to tap into the power of this creature, whatever that meant.

“Oh, child, you really know nothing, do you?” Plagg floated about her room on his back with his eyes closed. “The miracle stones were used by mages of old since the dawn of time. To fight evil, if you want the simple explanation. To prevent threats from compromising the safety of their kingdoms. And now, you’ve been trusted to do the same for yours.” Plagg landed on Marinette’s desk and began to investigate it, but she was still trying to understand.

To prevent threats from compromising the safety of kingdoms? Such as in times of war? Or against… something else?

She gasped with realization. “This isn’t just some random occurrence! I’ve been trusted with this because of that monster from yesterday! There was more to it, I knew there was!” Marinette abruptly stood. “That thing isn’t an ordinary bear. It’s some sort of evil being! That’s why I have this, right?” She looked to Plagg for confirmation, but the kwami just shrugged. 

“I’m not the guy you should ask for answers about that. All I know is, when you need my help, you just call my name and say transform me — and I’ll let you tap into my power. With my help, you can disintegrate any item you touch by calling out, cataclysm! Pretty nifty, eh?” Plagg put his paws on his hips and looked at Marinette through his periphery, clearly peacocking. She stifled a giggle and instead nodded, clenching her fist and regarding the ring with new knowledge, the fuzzy confusion that was clouding her mind finally starting to ebb away. 

Marinette took a deep breath. There was no time like the present to try out your newfound magical abilities. “Plagg, transform me!”

With a flash of green light, Marinette began to change, feeling the ring get hot on her finger, and a surge of power jolt through her like a shockwave. When the dust settled, she opened her eyes, looking down at herself. Her clothes were gone, replaced with a black skintight suit that seemed to be made of some sort of magic material, the texture between fabric and leather. She moved into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror.

She flicked on the light and almost flinched. “Whoa,” she breathed. Marinette hardly recognized herself. Her entire body was covered by the black suit, electric green lines running up and down her legs and arms where the seams would be. She had cat ears much like Plagg’s, perched at the top of her head, and as she focused, she found she could fine-tune her hearing, tapping into faraway sounds at will. Around her waist was a small belt, with a baton tucked into it. It was silver, with an engraving of a green cat paw in the center. When she pressed it, the baton extended, continually growing until it hit her ceiling. She pressed it again and it returned to size. “Crazy…” 

The suit even had built-in shoes. They gave her a small heel, and she tried not to think if that would hinder her on the battlefield. Her hands were encased by the suit as well, the gloved fingertips including sharp points, to mimic a cat’s claws.

In addition to all of that, she also felt different. Her whole body felt slimmer, muscles more taut. She lifted up her arms and there was no sign of fatigue, no blood rushing down to leave her extremities tingling. She bent her knees and found she could hold that position for minutes on end without feeling an ache in her thighs.

The last thing Marinette closely looked at was her face. She had stalled by checking out the suit, but now was the moment of truth. She took a good look at herself, and it was eerie. Like she was looking at an alien clone. Her face was more angular, her cheekbones more pronounced. Her shoulder-length hair was now grown down past her thigh, braided softly, swinging behind her like a cat’s tail. Her costume included a black domino mask that seemed to stick there by itself, and her eyes were now the same electric green as her suit accents, as the paw on the baton, as the jewel in the ring itself, which, upon examination, had changed once again, the miracle stone hidden from view, she guessed to protect it in battle.

She took everything in again, and then her face fell, and her shoulders suddenly slumped, and she found she couldn’t look at herself anymore. She was starting to feel like a completely different person. “Detransformation,” she mumbled, and with another flash of light, Marinette watched as the suit melted around her, and Plagg emerged from the ring, which went back to its regular appearance on her hand. 

She trudged back to bed and sat down, holding her head in her hands. What was she going to do now? She had insane superhuman powers she could tap into whenever it suited her fancy. She had a new pet, although what species he was was still mostly unknown. 

Plagg noticed her shift in demeanor and dropped his cocky façade. “What’s wrong, Marinette? Usually my wearers are more excited than this… You’re making me feel insecure.”

Marinette chuckled. Well, he mostly dropped it. Then she exhaled. “This is just so surreal. Yesterday, a monster. Today, a magical ring. Did I slip on some barbecue sauce at work and hit my head on one of the countertops?” She looked up at Plagg after a moment. “And how do you know my name?”

He smiled a knowing smile. “Fu told it to me. To prepare me for having a wearer again. And to warn me to be on my best behavior,” he grinned cheekily.

Her brows furrowed. “And… what does the professor have to do with all of this? How does he know about magic, how does he have this miracle stone?” Marinette found herself spiraling. Nothing made sense anymore.

But Plagg kept it cool as ever. “Hey, just because he trusted you with his miracle stone doesn’t mean you’ve proved yourself quite yet. I’m not allowed to tell you more right now — we still have to wait and see if you go bad.”

It was all too much. Marinette flopped backwards to lay on top of her bed. She blew some air out and tried to make sense of everything in her mind. Fu owned an ancient magic jewel. He liked her paper so much he decided to entrust her with it. Now, if the monstrous beast reappeared, she would be depended on to do something about it. Was that a responsibility she was ready for?

Before she could start to unpack that one, Plagg landed right on her pillow and looked into her eyes. “I know you’re busy contemplating the impossibility of all of this, but do you have any cheese? I’m drained and it’s my preferred method of regaining strength. And for future reference, you’ll need to keep some with you at all times, as we might need to transform in a place where cheese is not handy.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me I’m going to have to go around my day carrying cheese in my bag in case we need to transform?” Her tone, incredulous. 

“That about sums it up,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Oh no, oh no we won’t. Cheese is perishable, Plagg. I’m not going to carry that around all day. Do I look like a refrigerator to you?”

Plagg just gave her a once over.

She sighed, long and hard. “You know what, don’t answer that. I’ll be right back.” She left the room and when she returned, she brandished a red Cheese-Itz box out to the kwami.

“This will have to do,” and she poured a few cheese crackers onto her palm. Plagg tentatively flew into her hand, grasping onto the cracker and pushing it into his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

Marinette feared for a moment that he would spit it out and insist she share her finest camembert with him, but to her elation, he soared off of her hand and shoved the rest of the cracker into his mouth, flying back into the box for more.

“It’s like a cheese cookie! Never before have I beheld something so wonderful! All hail the inventions of the modern world!” He flew about her room, doing spins in the air and eating cheese cracker after cheese cracker.

Marinette sighed and watched his joyful dance, unable to keep from smiling as well. Yes, today was full of strange happenings, but at least she’d never be bored again.

Chapter Text

As much fun as it was to watch Plagg fall in love with Cheese-Itz, Marinette’s homework wasn’t going to do itself. It was already almost 21:00, and Alya’s “Date Night” would come to an end sooner rather than later.

Of course, it’s hard to focus on your History of Modern Fashion textbook when your new kwami is investigating everything in your room. Marinette kept getting distracted by Plagg rustling around, even though she told herself that he was harmless and that she needed to keep reading.

After about twenty minutes, she gave up. Marinette could only reread a page so many times.

“Plagg, do you sleep?” she called out to him, wondering about the habits of a kwami. Obviously he ate. Did he need to use the restroom, too?

Plagg just came out of the drawer he was nosing around in. “Is that a joke? Of course I sleep. I was just asleep for a hundred years!”

Marinette narrowed her eyes and grinned. “You and I both know that isn’t true. I would invite you to share my pillow with me, but I do have a roommate, and I get the feeling that you’re supposed be a secret.”

Plagg looked around and noticed that, indeed, one half of the room was decked out in rock posters and a messy desk complete with a sewing machine, while the other half of the room was covered in news clippings and polaroid photo collages. “What’s your roommate like?” he asked.

Marinette mulled over that, leaning back in her desk chair. Even though she had only been Alya’s friend for a little over a year, she admired the other girl’s spark and gumption. “Wild. But loads of fun. I think it would be a terrible idea for the two of you to meet, though. She wants to be a reporter, and she has a knack for sniffing out secrets.”

Plagg landed on Marinette’s desk, sitting on her sewing machine and dangling his little kwami legs off the side. “Well, we’re going to have to be sure to keep this extra secret, then. So secret even your roommate doesn’t pick up on it.”

Marinette tapped a pen against her chin in thought. Where would be a good place to hide Plagg while he slept? Somewhere where he could be present to hear and see everything in the room without being heard or seen himself?

Struck by inspiration, Marinette went to her materials drawer and pulled out some stuffing, along with some plush fabric. She went right to work, holding the pieces up against Plagg to size them, and cutting carefully along the lines she drew.

Plagg perched on her shoulder and watched, asking, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making you a little bed. A cozy spot all your own.” Although it sounded a bit muffled from the pins held between her teeth.

She finished putting the pieces together, held with the pins, and brandished it to Plagg. “Well, what do you think?” It looked like a cat bed, but much, much smaller.

He floated over to it, sinking into the stuffing. The fabric was black with green lining, and Marinette placed her spool of electric green thread into the machine. When she looked back over, she saw a tender look on Plagg’s face — but when he saw her looking, it immediately vanished. “It’ll do,” he told her, turning away from the bed like it didn’t interest him at all. But Marinette smiled with her knowledge.

As she sewed the seams together, Plagg perched on her shoulder again, watching in fascination. “I’ve never had a wearer who crafted.”

Marinette turned the bed over to sew the other side. “I love sewing. And designing. It’s why I’m trying to break into the fashion industry.”

She finished the bed in a few more minutes, and then placed it on the desk. “Here, try it out, let me know if it needs more stuffing.”

Plagg flew off her shoulder and landed in the soft bed, turning in circles and kneading it, just like a real cat. Marinette had to stifle a giggle and stop herself from grinning as Plagg settled in, looking up at her with his paws tucked beneath his body.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just like a real cat, aren’t you?” She put her hand up to her mouth to hide any smile she might have there.

Plagg grumbled. “No, I’m a deity of unimaginable power. Real cats were made to look like me, not the other way around.”

Marinette forced herself to be serious. She didn’t mean to offend him. “I’m sorry, Plagg. There’s still a lot I don’t know about you.”

He rolled over, staying comfy in the little bed. “I’m one of two kwamis whose miracle stones were created by the Grand Mage at the dawn of human civilization. I’m the kwami of destruction; that’s why, when a human taps into my power, they are able to disintegrate something.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. There were more of these beings? “What does the other kwami do?”

“Tikki is the kwami of creation. She allows her wearers to summon an item to assist them in battle.” 

Marinette played with the ring on her finger. “But disintegration isn’t destruction, and summoning isn’t creation.”

Plagg perked up. “Someone’s been paying attention. That’s what the miracle stone is for. It allows you to tap into my power, but a very small portion of it, only. That’s because the Grand Mage knew humans were power-hungry. Kwamis, on the other hand, are not. But we are hungry for food!” and he zipped back over to the box of Cheese-Itz, which she had left on her nightstand for him.

Marinette stood from the table, placing the small bed underneath her own. “There. Now, you can hear everything that’s going on, just in case there’s an emergency. But you’re also very well hidden!” She put her fists on her hips, standing up, back straight with pride.

Plagg floated down and made himself at home under her bed. Marinette was feeling sorry that she couldn’t do more for him when the bedroom door opened.

“Helloooo,” Alya called cheerfully, crossing the threshold and showing off her slinky dress. Marinette stiffened, forcing her eyes not to dart down to where only she knew Plagg was hidden. She hoped he really would stay put.

“Hi, Alya, how was Date Night?” Marinette tried to match her friend’s cheery tone, but her smile struggled to stay on her face, and Alya’s own expression fell as she  took in Marinette’s appearance.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Is everything okay?” Her concern made Marinette feel suddenly overwhelmed, and she fell into a sitting position on the edge of her bed. Alya’s presence brought some normalcy back to Marinette’s life, and it put the events of the day into perspective. Crazy perspective. She wanted to tell Alya that in fact, no, everything wasn’t okay, and she might as well have seen a ghost. But when she ran through it in her head, not even Alya would believe it. Marinette hardly believed it, but that ring was still there on her finger, reminding her that this was her reality now.

Alya sat beside her and ran a hand down Marinette’s back. “The monster really is gone, Marinette. You don’t have to keep stressing out about it.”

She thought fast. Since she couldn’t tell Alya what the matter really was, this would have to do. “I know, you’re right. But I can’t help it. I’ve been stressed all day. What if there are more where that one came from?” She said it without thinking, but the truth of it hit her like a semi truck crashing down the highway. And if Alya’s wrinkled brow was anything to measure by, it hit her too. 

They sat there, staring at the wall. But Marinette looked down at her ring finger again, and she clenched her fist. Although she couldn’t share it with Alya, she let herself feel confident. If another monster did appear, she would stop it!

She turned to Alya, determined to lift the mood. “How did your date go?”

Alya’s face brightened again, and Marinette relaxed as Alya got up and twirled around the room, going into the bathroom to remove her makeup. “It was amazing!” she called, and Marinette stood in the doorway, watching her pull off a fake eyelash. “Nino is just so good at reading me! I feel like, every time I go out with him, I’m struck by how much we connect, and I always wish we had met sooner!”

Marinette liked listening to Alya gush. It made her feel as though she was living vicariously through her friend’s happiness, since Marinette had no reason to gush about her own life.

As if on cue, Alya turned to look at Marinette in the mirror, and she pouted. “I wish you weren’t so single, Marinette. You’re so cute. I bet you could snag any guy you wanted!”

Marinette just batted a hand at her. “No way, I’m too busy to date, everyone knows that…” but she trailed off as she saw the glint forming in Alya’s eyes.

“You know, Nino has some roommates…” She raised her eyebrows.

Marinette really didn’t like where this was going. “No, I’m okay, really!”

But it was too late. Alya already had a plan forming. “It’ll be perfect! I can so see you with Nathaniel. Or maybe Kim! You’d have to meet them, though…” Marinette tried shaking her head to no avail. Alya pulled out her phone. “I’m gonna text Nino! We’ll make a plan so we can all hang out together! That way, we can limit the awkwardness.”

Marinette sighed, her shoulders falling. “Fine,” she said, giving in. It was no use to fight Alya when she made a plan. “But only because tomorrow is Saturday!” That meant no class, just a shift at Sloppy Joe’s and some studying to catch up on.

“YES!” Alya exclaimed. “Marinette is officially agreeing to go to a kickback! Ahhh! I’m too excited now!” She wiggled around in front of the mirror, unable to contain herself. She still had one fake eyelash on.

Marinette rose at 08:00, but Alya was still fast asleep. She peeked under her bed to see Plagg, snoozing softly, with orange crumbs on his whiskers. She couldn’t help but smile to herself.

She grabbed her laptop and books and snuck into the living room, spreading her materials out to get into the zone. Being a student at Université Françoise-Dupont wasn’t hard for Marinette; but keeping up on her studies while juggling a job and an internship did make it challenging. It drove her to do things like get up before everyone else on a Saturday morning.

After about an hour, Plagg flew out of the room and landed on her lap, and Marinette almost yelped in shock. “How did you get here? What if someone saw you?”

Plagg waved a paw, dismissing Marinette’s concerns. “Kwamis can pass through physical materials. It’s called phasing. As for being seen, no one in this place is awake but you; I can tell.”

Marinette squirmed. It would take her longer to get used to this magical stuff than she’d thought. “Okay, but don’t be unnecessarily careless.”

Plagg cocked his head to see what she was doing on the computer. “Wow, you sure are a go-getter, Marinette. I was expecting a modern wielder to be lazier because of technology.”

“Technology comes with its own challenges. And well, I have to be a go-getter, Plagg. Someone has to pay for all those Cheese-Itz,” she raised her eyebrows in mock concern.

Plagg smiled at her, and Marinette felt a tension in her chest lighten. Maybe it would be nice to have something to take care of. She petted his head softly with her pointer finger, and he leaned into her touch. Just like a real cat, but she made sure not to say anything about it this time.

Marinette finished up at 11:00 and made some lunch, and around then, all three of the girls she lived with emerged to do the same. Plagg heard them coming even before their doors opened, and Marinette let herself worry less about him. He was centuries old, after all. He probably knew how to take care of himself.

“Good morning, Marinette,” Mylène rubbed her eyes as she poured herself a bowl of cereal.

“Good morning,” Marinette smiled back, chopping some tomatoes for a salad.

Alya yawned and stretched, blinking at seeing the small kitchen already cramped. “I guess I’ll wait my turn, then,” she jibed, leaning against the countertop. “Mylène, did you hear? Marinette agreed to go out tonight!”

“Oh, that’s great! Good for you, Marinette!” she cooed, moving to the table to eat her breakfast.

Marinette just grumbled. “Yes, I agreed, but I’m starting to wish I hadn’t. I don’t know anyone who’ll be there besides you!”

“That’s the whole point, meeting new people… you know?” Alya laughed, grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge.

As she did so, the door opened again, and Juleka grabbed a banana from a fruit basket and sat down next to Mylène, peeling it with concentration.

“Where are you guys going?” Mylène asked between crunches.

“Nino’s place, he’s having a kickback,” Alya practically glowed.

“Nino Lahiffe? The DJ who lives with Ivan?” Mylène turned to look over at Alya.

Alya hesitated, turning on the stove. “Yes…? How do you know him?”

Mylène chuckled. “Because that Ivan is the Ivan I’m dating!”

Alya laughed aloud, and so did Mylène. Marinette just shook her head as she watched them wipe tears from their eyes, prepping some cucumber for her salad.

“It’s a small world, who would have known?” Alya exclaimed. “Do you want to come tonight? To the kickback?” she asked as she scrambled some eggs in a bowl.

“I would say yes, normally, but Ivan and I actually have plans tonight, so he won’t be there either. Have fun for me!” She got up to put her dish in the dishwasher, still chuckling, and then went back into her room to get dressed.

Alya looked at Marinette meaningfully. “See? One less person you have to meet. Just Nathaniel and Kim.” She poured her eggs into a frying pan and they sizzled appetizingly.

Marinette put her cutting board away and pulled out some vinaigrette. “You’re forgetting that I hardly know Nino. I’ve seen the kid once.”

Alya dismissed her concern and poked at her eggs with a spatula. “He’s great, you’ll love him. You’ll love all of them.”

“That remains to be seen,” Marinette answered, tossing her salad and leaving the kitchen.

“What about you, Juleka? Do you have plans tonight? Do you want to come to a kickback?” Alya wouldn’t let Marinette dampen her mood. 

Marinette speared some salad and looked at Juleka.

“Hm. Probably not. I have some homework to catch up on. Might see Rose later,” she replied noncommittally, finishing up her banana while looking at something on her phone.

Marinette let herself enjoy her lunch, and the apartment fell into a pleasant silence. Eventually Alya joined them at the table with her eggs. Although Marinette had only known Juleka and Mylène for a few months, she felt comfortable with them. They were nice and tidy and were fun to talk to when they weren’t busy. 

Alya she had known since the start of her first year — they had been roommates in a different apartment, with two other college students, Chloé and Sabrina. Those two had been terrible housemates; messy, loud, with no respect for personal space or property. Having to endure living with them had brought Marinette and Alya close in just a year, and Alya had no qualms calling Marinette her best friend. But her looseness with the term made Marinette wonder if Alya really meant it — were they best friends? Or were they just roommates who’d gone through a rough time together? Marinette returned the term of endearment, but as a result, she wasn’t sure if she was being genuine. Was a friend really a “best” friend if they were the only friend you had?

She clocked in at Sloppy Joe’s at exactly 12:00 and tied her apron around her waist. Plagg flew out of her small purse and practically fainted at the smell of melted cheese and grease that permeated the air. It made Marinette chuckle, and she never chuckled at work.

“If you want, you can hide under my cap,” she offered, seeing his dejected expression at the prospect of being left alone in the locker room. 

Plagg zipped up and phased through the baseball cap, resting right in between the fabric and her hair. It tickled a little, but Marinette smiled to herself knowing that she had someone with her to survive the next six hours. She adjusted her polo shirt, tucking it into her jeans, and walked out onto the floor to take orders.

At 15:30, her boss told her to go ahead and break for lunch, and Marinette was relieved to have some company to share her break with. She made herself a cheeseburger and took it into the locker room, which was completely empty. Plagg phased out of her hat and landed on her knee as she sat on the bench.

“Well, I hope that wasn’t too boring for you,” she joked, taking a bite of her sandwich. 

“It was actually quite relaxing. I feel I know you so much better now, Marinette,” he replied cheekily.

His remark made Marinette laugh, really laugh, almost as much as Alya and Mylène had laughed this morning. It made her blink a few tears away from her eyes, and it made her realize with full force how lonely she’d been. How much having a companion had improved her mood. She opened up her cheeseburger, pulled the cheese off, and gave it to Plagg, whose eyes swam with joy as he relished it.

Maybe it was a good thing that Alya was making her go to a kickback tonight. A twenty-year-old girl can only handle so much work and school.

Marinette had another bite and Plagg surprised her by asking, “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Name?”

“For your superhero persona, of course,” he popped off her knee and sat on top of her cap. Marinette furrowed her brow. Right. A name. She obviously couldn’t fight crime in a tight black cat suit and expect no one to ask her who she was. And admitting the truth of that matter would be detrimental.

“What kind of names do your wearers normally choose?”

Plagg ran his paws over his face, straightening out his whiskers. “Well, honestly, the last time I had a wearer was a few hundred years ago. He didn’t like cats much. Just called himself the Black Knight. I thought it was meh. But you, Marinette—” he flew down and hovered in front of her face, “you’re creative! I know you can come up with a name that fits your personality and sparks fear in your enemies!”

Her shoulders dropped. “Way to put on the pressure,” she mumbled. Something about black cats, but also something that would reflect her. Something more than the generic Chat Noir that came to mind.

Marinette thought to herself. She liked cats, she thought they were really sweet and lovable, even if Plagg sometimes denied it. Inside herself she liked to think she, too, was sweet and lovable, but she didn’t want to pick a name like Cute Kitty Cat. That wasn’t scary at all.

She took another bite. Something between Black Knight and Cute Kitty Cat. She swallowed and then proposed to Plagg, “What about… what about something like Kitty Noire?”

Plagg looked closely at her and gave a small nod of approval. “I wouldn’t have picked it, but it suits you. A mix of cute and scary. Like us,” and he winked, and Marinette laughed again, not having the heart to tell him that he wasn’t scary at all.

When Marinette got back to the apartment, the television in the living room was on, but no one was sitting in front of it.

The news channel was playing, and she stopped to watch it on the way to her room. The primary newswoman, Nadja Chamack, was speaking, her expression grave.

“Police investigators are still on the lookout for Mme. Marily Renault, a forty-five-year-old woman who was last seen nearly a week ago, leaving for her apartment near Rue Gottlieb. If you have any information on the whereabouts of this woman, the police urge you to report it.” 

Marinette’s heart sank. This was the first major crime to happen since she’d moved to Paris, a little over a year ago. Her parents had already called her, sick with worry, urging her to stop working late shifts at Sloppy Joe’s. Marinette had placated them with a promise to “try” but so far she hadn’t so much as brought up their concerns to her manager. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to put them at ease, it was just… she didn’t feel like she was in danger. Especially not now, with the beautiful green gem dancing on her finger.

Alya interrupted her ruminating by opening their bedroom door. “I thought I heard you come home. Are you ready for the magic makeover?” she asked, a steely glint in her eye.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Marinette sighed, leaving the living room and the tragic disappearance behind her. 

The first thing she saw upon entering was Alya’s desk, the entire surface covered in various makeup supplies and hair products. It was so much more than she had been prepared for.

“Wow, are you sure I need all this?” Marinette’s hand played with her hair in her nervousness.

But Alya wouldn’t budge. “100%. Now go de-Joe,” she instructed gently, gesturing to the shower.

Marinette tried not to drag her feet.

Once she was clean, Alya blow-dried Marinette’s raven hair, running a gentle comb through it, and wrapping it up in a delicate top knot with a floral clip. Marinette sat in her chair, folded up in her towel, and couldn’t help the small smile that snuck onto her face. It was nice to have someone take care of you. A part of her brain wandered, trying to procure what her relationship with Alya was now that they were doing this together. Were makeovers only reserved for best friends? “Alya, have you done this before, for your other friends?”

Alya was silent a moment, pursing her lips. “Hm, maybe a few times in high school, for events. But this is different. We’re gonna snag you a date by the end of the night if it takes all I have!” and she leaned over to wink at Marinette. Marinette wasn’t sure if that really answered her question, even though it did make that small smile creep back onto Marinette’s face.

After hair, it was makeup time, and although Marinette and makeup were not complete strangers, Marinette had never used more than the basics: some lipstick, mascara, a little powder. She was intimidated by Alya’s army of foundations, concealer, primer, setting spray… it made her head spin.

Alya’s brow wrinkled. “You’re a lot fairer than I am. I’m not sure if I have a color that will match you.” She rummaged about, but the only bottles she revealed were perfect matches to Alya’s caramel brown complexion. 

“That’s okay, we can just skip that—” but Marinette was cut off by Alya’s incredulous expression and firm shake of the head. 

“No way, foundation is essential to any look. That’s why it’s called foundation. I’m going to see if Mylène has something closer to your coloring.” As soon as she left the room, Plagg poked out from under the bed, raising his metaphorical eyebrows at everything that was going on.

“Have you had a female wearer before?” Marinette tentatively asked.

“You’re the first. For most of history, the miracle stones have been entrusted exclusively to men. Only in more recent years have women wielded them. Some holders gave them to their wives, and they found that their ladies were much better fighters than they had been. But none of my wielders have ever done so.”

“If none of yours have, that means the other kwami’s wielders have? Tikki?” Marinette played with the ends of her towel.

She saw Plagg shift uncomfortably, and it threw her. She didn’t think it was a forbidden question to ask. 

He opened his mouth to finally say something, and then his ears twitched and he darted back under the bed, right as the bedroom door opened, revealing Alya proudly holding up a tube of foundation.

“Mylène’s out with Ivan, but Juleka is about your shade, and she had some! Oh, I’m so excited! This is gonna be legendary!” Alya got right to work, and Marinette sat there quietly, with her eyes closed, trying to appear at ease. But the exchange with Plagg bothered her. She wanted to know more about the history of the miracle stones. 

“Stop twitching, Marinette. It’s okay to be nervous, but you’ll mess up my handiwork if you keep that up,” Alya scolded playfully. Marinette forced herself to stop thinking about Plagg. She could ask him about it later. 

“Sorry, Alya,” she said, but after a moment, she felt the urge to elaborate. Maybe if Alya knew how much this meant to Marinette, she’d be able to find out more clearly where they stood. “I really am excited for this, even though I may have grumbled a bit earlier. It’ll be nice to meet people again. I feel like, ever since I got that internship, I’ve become a hermit. We used to have a lot of fun last year. Well, when Chloé and Sabrina weren’t around,” she chuckled.

Alya rolled her eyes with a smile. “Oh man. I haven’t thought about those two troublemakers in months! Living with them was a nightmare, but honestly, I wouldn’t be opposed to connecting again.” She dabbed Marinette’s face with a sponge as she said it.

“What?! They were insane. They never picked up after themselves, especially Chloé! She would leave her dirty dishes out and we had to beg her to wash them. Not to mention that they stole your stuff all the time — did you forget about that?” Marinette wanted to open her eyes and give Alya an accusatory stare.

“Ah, that’s in the past now,” she said dismissively. “They were bad roommates, sure, but they weren’t bad people.” Alya rummaged in her makeup bag. “Okay, make sure to keep your eyes closed. I’m gonna prime them and then give you a smokey look. I think it’ll compliment your features nicely.”

Marinette did as Alya said, trying to be as still as a mannequin, but she wasn’t sure if she agreed with her regarding their ex-roommates. She, personally, wouldn’t mind if she never saw either of them again. Especially Chloé. 

When Alya finished up with the primer, and all the shadowing, she filled in Marinette’s eyebrows, added a little blush, and then sprayed sealer over it.

“Okay, I think you’re good! The only thing is mascara. It’s always best if you apply it yourself, since I don’t want to accidentally poke your eye out or something,” she grinned, and Marinette opened her eyes to take the tube from her friend. She moved towards the bathroom to put on the mascara when Alya stopped her. “Wait, look at me?”

Marinette did, afraid something was wrong. But Alya just squealed when she examined her own work. “Oh, it looks so good! You’re gonna be the belle of the ball, you know,” she gushed, and Marinette couldn’t help but blush.

“You mean the belle of the kickback?” she joked, trying to deflect the compliment.

But Alya saw through her. “It’s the closest thing to a ball we’re going to at this time in our lives,” and Alya joined Marinette in the bathroom to put on her own makeup as Marinette finished up.

Marinette opened the tube of mascara and lifted it up to her face in the mirror, holding her towel around herself with her other hand.

“Ooh, cute ring! Is that new?” Alya asked.

Marinette almost smeared mascara everywhere in her shock, her heart racing double time. She had to think fast. “Um, yeah, someone at work didn’t want it anymore, and it fit me, so…” she fumbled, kicking herself mentally. Why hadn’t she come up with some sort of cover story earlier?

“Hm. I didn’t know you were friends with anyone at work.” Alya raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing her. But what could Marinette do to make her story more convincing?

“I mean, we’re not friends. Just acquaintances.” Marinette handed the mascara back to Alya without meeting her eyes. She escaped the bathroom to pick out a dress before Alya could ask any more questions.

But Alya had other ideas. “Not friends, huh? Are you sure this coworker of yours isn’t more than friends?” She waggled her eyebrows, sticking her head out of the bathroom to look at her roommate.

Marinette sighed in relief, but she covered it by looking in the closet. Of course this was about some secret romance Alya thought she could dig up. It put Marinette at ease to know her roommate wasn’t onto her. “No, I’m sure, Alya. That’s why we’re doing all this, right?”

“True,” she called back in a singsongy voice. Marinette’s shoulders relaxed. Alya was nosy, it was true, but she was also harmless. All the same, Marinette made a mental note to come up with better cover stories.

For her outfit, Marinette decided to wear a glittery pomegranate pencil dress of her own design. It was modest but shapely, and it always made her feel confident when she wore it. She picked a pair of earrings and tried to match it to her ring as much as possible, so that it would blend into her whole ensemble, instead of sticking out like a sore thumb, bright green among shades of red.

Alya chose a short, black cocktail dress that dipped low to show off her assets. She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Nino’s gonna pass out, huh?”

Marinette grinned back. “I’ll say!”

The girls left their apartment at 19:30 and walked the few blocks to Nino’s building. Alya ran over some descriptions of the boys she intended for her friend, and Marinette peeked into her clutch to check on Plagg, who looked quite happy considering the amount of Cheese-Itz accompanying him in there.

They rode the elevator up, and when Alya stopped at door 76, she looked intently at Marinette before she knocked. “Lipstick check?”

“You’re good. What about me?”

“Perfect. Deep breath.”

Marinette took a measured breath, blowing it out slowly. There was nothing to be nervous about, she told herself. 

Alya rang the bell, and after a moment, the door opened and a tan guy with big industry-grade headphones around his neck stood in the threshold.

“Oh, Alya. You really outdid yourself.” He gave her a look that made her blush and Marinette had to stifle a giggle. “And you, Marinette. You look stunning. I’m sure the guys will think so, too,” he raised his brows at both of them and Marinette sighed. Of course Nino was as much of a schemer as Alya was. They were perfect for one another.

He opened the door to let them in, wrapping an arm around Alya. Marinette turned to see three young men sitting on the sofa, in various positions ranging between too-tense and too-relaxed.

She did a double take. Three men? But Ivan was out on his date with Mylène! Alya had said there were only two that she had to meet…

“Guys, this is Marinette. Marinette, these are the guys. Nathaniel,” he said, gesturing to the tensest of the three, who had long, red hair hanging shaggily over one of his teal-green eyes. He got up to shake her hand like a true gentleman, giving her a shy smile before sitting back down. 

“This is Kim,” Nino introduced the next guy, the one manspreading across the whole couch. He was wearing a red hoodie and just lifted up his chin as if to say ‘sup without getting up. Marinette tried not to seem disappointed.

“And this is our next-door neighbor, Adrien. He heard we were having a party and couldn’t stay away,” Nino teased, but Marinette couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. It was Sunflower Boy, right there, sitting politely on Nino’s couch. He got up and shook her hand as Nathaniel had done, but he stayed standing.

“More like I was begged to be here. Nino doesn’t know what he’d do without me,” he joked, looking back at Nino and fluttering his eyelashes.

Nino rested the back of his hand on his forehead and pretended to swoon. Marinette chuckled. Okay, so they were dorks. Who was surprised by that?

Adrien sat back down on the sofa, Nino and Alya squeezed together on the loveseat, and Marinette realized there wasn’t anywhere for her to sit. She was about to make herself at home on the floor when Adrien scooted over to make room for her on the couch.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed out, taking a seat beside him. He smiled, his unsure expression disarming her. She didn’t need to be nervous. This was Sunflower Boy — the biggest nerd in school — and Nino’s roommates. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

“So, Marinette, what do you like to do for fun?” Kim turned to her, getting right to the chase. This whole party was a setup, after all.

“I’m a designer. I’m trying to break into the fashion industry. When I have the time, I like to make clothes for myself. But I’ve been busy lately, since I’ve been working a lot more.” She hoped that was the right thing to say. The truth was, she hadn’t designed anything since the summer, but she didn’t want to be boring and admit that all she did these days was work. This was a party.

“Dang, that’s cool. Man, I don’t really pay much attention to fashion. Mostly I wear stuff that’s easy to work out in. Since I do basketball, and swimming, and wrestling. Not that I don’t do other stuff for fun; Nino knows I’m trying to beat his high score in Ultimate Mecha Strike III,” he gave Nino a playful punch, and Nino chuckled, punching back.

“Like that’s ever gonna happen,” he bragged.

“Oh, I’ve been practicing while you’ve been out DJing. Got some new moves that might surprise you.”

“Yeah, right, it’s impossible to surprise me in that game, I’ve already told you, I’m the pro under this roof…” and they devolved into a verbal competition that Marinette stopped being able to follow. 

Alya asked Nathaniel, “Are they always like this?”

He nodded fiercely and chuckled, “Sometimes, they’re worse. I’m trying to draw, or do homework, and I ask myself, do I live with people or gorillas?”

That made Alya laugh, and Marinette found that everyone was talking to someone else, and the focus was off her. It made her feel relieved, but it was also disappointing.

She had a moment to herself, of just listening to the others, when, “You make your own clothes, you said?” Adrien asked her softly, surprising her. 

Marinette wasn’t expecting him to turn to her. She had been expecting him to join the debate between Kim and Nino. They were his friends, after all. Did he sense that she felt slighted?

“Y—Yeah, I do,” she finally responded. “I mean, I did. I actually haven’t designed anything for myself this year, yet.” She stumbled over the words, sensing her color rising, and desperately wanting to stop it. What was happening? Was Sunflower Boy really managing to unravel her?

“Did you design the piece you’re wearing now?” His eyes travelled over her dress, and she knew from his expression that he was simply looking at it, with no ulterior motives, but she blushed anyway.

“I did, a few years ago.” Marinette twisted her ring around her finger to give herself something to look at, because her eyes were aching to look into his, to get a good look at his face. What would she find there?

“Well, it’s lovely,” he told her, in that same soft tone that made her skin prickle. “Excellent craftsmanship.” 

Craftsmanship? What did Sunflower Boy know about sewing? 

Her head whipped up to look up at him in shock, despite her efforts, and a part of her melted a little. Adrien had green eyes that were wide and open, hiding nothing, full of innocence and good intentions. It gave him a boyish look that charmed her against her will. 

And, man. He was actually really cute.

“Thank you…” she replied unsteadily. She tried to snap out of it. Sunflower Boy was Sunflower Boy. He was not crush material. Marinette cleared her throat, hoping the action would clear her head as well.

She noticed that as she did so, Adrien straightened up. Since when had he been leaning so close to her? How had she not realized the proximity? The whole thing made her head spin, made her think to herself, mission abort, mission abort! 

“Um, Nino, where are the drinks? This is supposed to be a kickback, right?” It came out thick with bravado.

Nino’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline. “Well I’ll be. Little Marinette is ready to get buzzed already? I can’t say no to that!” He got up from the loveseat and returned from the kitchen a few moments later with six bottles of beer, passing them around to everyone and taking a few sips of his own.

Marinette wrung her hands around the bottle. She didn’t really want to get drunk, but she needed to break whatever was happening between herself and Adrien. She forced herself not to look at him, although she was all too conscious of his golden hair in her periphery. Not to mention his well-fitting button-down.

She mentally scolded herself. She was only at this party for Alya, she had no intentions to actually meet someone. She hadn’t been kidding when she had said she didn’t have time to date. Meeting someone would be nothing but a distraction right now, especially considering the new responsibility she had concerning the kwami in her clutch and the ring on her finger.

“Alright,” Nino took a swig and put his bottle down on the coffee table. He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s play a drinking game. Confession. You pick someone to answer an embarrassing question. They can either answer it, or drink. I’ll start,” he turned to Nathaniel, who suddenly stiffened. “Nathaniel, tell me, have you ever kissed a girl below the waist?”

Nathaniel turned tomato red. His expression shifted from anxious to pained. Marinette couldn’t help but say “oh no,” under her breath in pity. Poor guy.

After a long moment, Nathaniel grabbed his beer and chugged. He put it back down, disgusted. “Ugh, that stuff’s awful. How do you all drink that?”

Kim laughed and shoved Nathaniel playfully. “You’re gonna be drinking a lot more of it tonight if you keep that up. That was an easy one.”

Alya covered her mouth to hide her amusement. “It’s your turn to make someone confess, Nathaniel.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nino, have you ever failed a class?”

“Ohhh!” The other boys called in excitement.

“Now this I wanna know,” Adrien grinned, sitting up straighter.

Nino’s face tightened. “Damn. You all really have it out for me, huh? Um, okay, sure. Yeah, yeah. I’ve failed a class.”

“No way,” Adrien breathed in disbelief.

“Yeah way. It was that dumb GE we took together. I couldn’t stay awake. I missed the midterm.” Nino sighed, and then he took a drink anyway.

“Babe, why did you confess if you were just going to drink?” Alya looked at him like he was crazy.

“To spice things up, obviously. It’s boring when no one confesses!” and he casted about for the next victim. “Marinette. I wanna know.”

She squirmed, holding her beer like the lifeline it was. “Uh oh. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know…” and he scratched his head in mock concentration. “I want to know who you think the hottest guy in this room is.”

Had she been drinking right then, she would have sputtered it out. Her heart skipped a beat. Should she confess? Or should she drink? She peeked at Adrien as discreetly as possible, but he was looking at his own beer. 

“Um, I’ll pass,” she decided, holding up her bottle dramatically, in a cheers to Nino.

“It’s okay,” Alya winked. “I’ll get it out of her later.”

Marinette glared daggers at her friend, putting her drink down. What would Adrien have done if she had admitted the truth? They hardly knew one another. She didn’t even want to think about it.

It was her turn now to ask a question. But to whom? Whose secrets did she want to know?

Adrien’s, obviously. She was dying to know how he had managed to seem like a completely different person in class. There, he seemed like the biggest nerd on the planet. Here, he seemed like a fun guy. Which one was he, really? She glanced down at her half-drunk beer bottle, willing it to give her confidence. This was a kickback. She was supposed to be having fun, letting loose.

“Adrien, tell me. Have you ever kissed a girl below the waist?” She made herself look him in the eye, forced herself to stay confident. 

He choked a little, flushing almost as red as Nathaniel. He looked at the beer bottle, which Marinette realized was entirely untouched, pushed out of his reach on the coffee table. 

Nino laughed, loud and giddy. “Oh, man. I love this! You’re so cute, Adrien.”

“Shut up, man. Agh…!” He ran a hand down his face.

“For context, Adrien doesn’t drink,” Nino informed Marinette. She guessed it was supposed to make her laugh, but it just made her feel guilty. She wasn’t trying to be mean to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” she started, but Adrien just shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Nino, I will so get you for this later.” Then he took a deep breath, looked right at Marinette, and said, “Um, no, if you must know, I haven’t.” Suddenly, she didn’t know why she had asked such a stupid question. Of course not. This was Sunflower Boy. Her gaze fell into her lap.

They went around like that for another hour, Alya and Marinette getting through a few bottles, confessing about half the time and drinking the other. Kim just talked and talked, his drink untouched, always confessing since it put him in the spotlight. Nathaniel and Nino went through the most bottles; Nino because he always drank and confessed, and Nathaniel because he never confessed to anything. 

Marinette relaxed more as she got to know her company, and being tipsy helped. She found she didn’t particularly like Nathaniel or Kim. Nathaniel was too shy; she didn’t know anything about him, and he didn’t want to share. Kim seemed like such a meat head. There was nothing in there of substance. 

Adrien, on the other hand, was fascinating. Whenever he was asked a question, he always took a long time debating, and a few times she wondered if this would be the time he would actually choose to drink, but he always ended up confessing, and with his confessions, she learned so much more about him. He loved college because all his life, he had been homeschooled. He grew up sheltered, had never had free rein, and thus, had never done anything questionable in his life. He was a good boy who had stayed on the “right path,” as her father would say. A boy much like Marinette, except she drank at parties, and he didn’t.

Until, finally, Kim asked him, “Adrien, have you ever genuinely wanted to kill someone? Even if just for a second.”

Adrien hesitated as he always did, and Marinette sat forward, truly engaged. Had he? What were the circumstances? Marinette was very sure about what her own answer would have been had she been asked the same. What did his deliberation mean?

Adrien opened his mouth, and Marinette was so sure he would say something, but at the last moment, he closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, leaned forward, and drank.

Marinette couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. Nino was too shocked to speak. Adrien finally put the bottle back in place, and the frown he wore made her insides twist. Something was really wrong.

Marinette leaned closer, trying to think of a way to comfort him, even though she hardly knew him. Her hand was almost on his shoulder when something crashed outside.

Kim, Nino, and Nathaniel all turned to look out the window. Alya’s phone blipped, and she couldn’t pick it up fast enough. “Oh my God,” she breathed out in horror.

“What is it?” Marinette asked automatically, sure she knew what the answer would be.

“The monster. It escaped from police custody. They don’t know how,” Alya scrolled on the page frantically.

“Guys, don’t look now, but I think I know where it went,” Nino said, voice full of false confidence.

Marinette and Adrien turned to the window at the same time, Marinette hoping not to find what she knew she would.

There it was. The bear monster. She could see it, moving slowly and deliberately, a few blocks down, and damn was it big. The news footage hadn’t done its size justice. Marinette was on the fourth story, and it was still taller than her vantage point.

Her brain snapped into action. It was go time! But how could she go now? How could she explain her disappearance to Alya?

“I… gotta use the restroom,” she fibbed, getting up and heading in the direction Kim pointed out. She closed the door behind her and Plagg immediately phased out of her bag.

“I wouldn’t have picked this place to transform, but whatever works for you works for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t transform here! I’m stuck at this party, Plagg! How am I gonna get out of here?” She pulled her hair, forgetting about the effort Alya had put in to style it.

But Plagg only shrugged. “Make something up, I don’t know. But that monster won’t fight itself.”

“Ugh, okay, I’ll try to leave…” She opened the bathroom door, mind reeling. What could she say that would seem a valid reason? There was a monster rampaging. The only logical thing to do would be stay put.

Plagg phased back into her clutch, and the first thing Marinette noticed was that everyone was now glued to the television. Clara Contard was on the scene, reporting the location of the monster and the police efforts to recapture it.

Well, everyone except Adrien. He was missing.

“Where’s Adrien?” Marinette asked before she could stop herself.

“He went back to his place to hide, he said,” Nino told her without moving his eyes from the TV.

Marinette didn’t understand why they were watching it on a screen when she could see the monster right outside the window. But she didn’t argue. Nino had given her the perfect out.

“I think I’m gonna go check on him, make sure he’s okay,” she informed them, backing up toward the door.

“Stay safe,” Alya called to her. It was an innocent pair of words, but the look Alya gave her was anything but. Marinette was grateful for once that Alya always jumped to conclusions. It made her alibis so much easier.

She left the apartment, rushing into the hallway, casting about desperately for a good place to hide. The elevator? Weren’t there cameras in there?

She looked at the door right next to Nino’s. It couldn’t hurt to check in on Adrien — that way she’d be covering her bases in case he came back and claimed he hadn’t seen her. 

Marinette knocked on the door, calling, “Adrien? You okay? It’s me, Marinette.”

She waited impatiently, but there was no response. She began to worry. Was he actually in trouble? She turned the door handle without thinking, and it opened onto a nice, tidy apartment. 

“Adrien?” she called tentatively, but he wasn’t in the living room. Maybe he was in the bathroom. She began to back out into the hallway when she realized this was the perfect place to transform. There were no cameras in Adrien’s living room.

She opened her clutch, fingers shaking with adrenaline. “Plagg?”

He flew out and nodded at her. She clenched her fists with determination. “Transform me!”

He disappeared into the miracle stone, and with a flash of green light, Marinette felt her body change, and in just a moment she was encased in the magical suit once again. 

She casted about for an escape route. There! The living room window! 

She quickly padded over to it, deftly undid the hatch, hopped out, and slid the glass back in place, all without making a sound. Once outside, she found she could cling easily to the exterior of the building, as if her hands and feet were sticky, like a bug’s. What shocked her the most was when she looked down at the street, stories below her, she didn’t feel dizzy at all.

She launched herself onto a nearby roof, soaring through the air, and landed on her feet, already running, just like a cat. 

“Watch out, monster,” she taunted under her breath. “Kitty Noire is on the hunt.”

Chapter Text

If Kitty Noire had thought that just being in the suit felt amazing, she had no words for what moving in the suit felt like. She jumped between rooftops and glided through the air as if she was made of nothing, as if she was lighter than a piece of paper, and yet the force she felt in her muscles was stronger than iron. Kitty Noire imagined what the most aerodynamic jet plane in the world was like, and concluded that she was better.

As her thoughts spun around her and she awed over the feeling of the wind offering her no resistance, of slicing through the air, as agile as her miracle stone’s namesake, Kitty Noire abruptly noticed that she was not alone in her excursion over the top of Paris.

A few yards ahead of her, a figure hopped between buildings, heading straight for the monster, just as she was. It was too far away for her to make out precisely what he looked like, but he seemed to be clad similarly to her, in a full bodysuit, red with black spots. 

Was he friend or foe? Kitty’s nerves jittered. She mentally prepared herself for two adversaries, but she wasn’t sure she could actually handle that when it came down to it. It was her first battle, after all.

She stopped on the roof a building down from the monster. The bearlike creature was still clumsily trekking down the Champs-Elysées, crying out in a… well, a metallic screech, was the only way Kitty could describe it.

She hesitated. Why would a bear creature make a noise like that? Unless…?

“Ah! There you are! I was wondering whether or not I’d have to solo this one!” 

Kitty Noire abruptly turned to her right, and there he stood, the man in the spotted suit, from earlier. How had he snuck up on her? She could have sworn he hadn’t been there a moment before.

“What do you mean?” She narrowed her eyes, inspecting him. He was about half a head taller than her, with locks of golden blond hair splayed messily about his face, which was mostly hidden behind a red and black domino mask. His suit mimicked the pattern of a ladybug, she realized, tracing the spots adorning his chest plate and trailing down his legs. His sides and upper arms were just black, and he had emphasized shoulder pads, like a football player, making him look much more muscular than he probably was in reality. Around his waist was tied a gentle string, connected to a yo-yo resting on his hip. Kitty assumed it was his weapon.

But he just cocked his head in confusion, his eyes blank. “I mean just that — I wasn’t sure if you were going to show or not.”

“Sure, but how did you know to expect me? I have absolutely no idea who you are,” Kitty Noire crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Oh! Did your kwami not tell you? We’re partners!” He grinned widely and stuck his hand out in greeting. “I’m Coccinello!”

All of Kitty’s wariness vanished. So he was another miracle stone wielder, like herself. Why hadn’t Plagg told her she wouldn’t be fighting alone? She made a mental note to interrogate him about that later.

She shook his offered hand. “Coccinello? Is that Spanish?”

He reddened slightly. “Um, no, at least not intentionally. I wanted to pick a superhero name that was related to ladybugs but also masculine.” He dropped Kitty’s hand and his own flew to the back of his neck, eyes sheepish.

She backpedaled. Her partner was harmless, and she should go easy on him. No making fun of superhero names, at least not yet. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kitty Noire.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied, looking into her face with big, open eyes, the kinds that revealed all their secrets to the world; revealed that they had none. It disarmed her, and it made her nervous.

She shook her head to clear it and focused back on the monster. Due to its clumsiness, it hadn’t made much headway during their conversation.

Coccinello noticed her shift in attention and crouched beside her, his gaze intent on the monster. “My kwami told me that we each have a unique special power. So we should see if that’s the key to defeating the monster.”

But Kitty Noire’s mind was racing. Why, exactly, did the creature seem to lumber so awkwardly? Its gait wasn’t natural at all. “Not so fast. First we need to figure out our enemy’s weakness. And I think I have a hypothesis. How to test it is the question…”

Kitty casted about, eyes scouring the surface of the creature. Where was a good weak point?

The creature bellowed again, raising its arms, and as they came up — there! Kitty Noire pulled her baton out of her belt and elongated it, shoving it up into the beast’s shoulder joint. As she had suspected, it buried itself into the fur, or rather, the synthetic covering. Kitty wiggled the baton. It was clearly wedged in the mechanics of this machine.

She pressed the paw symbol and the baton returned to size in her hand. “It’s no animal. That thing is a robot.”

Coccinello inhaled sharply. “You mean to say, someone built that monstrosity?”

“I’m afraid so. What we need to do is figure out how to power it down.”

Coccinello brightened. “Hm. Maybe I can summon something to help us!” and as Kitty watched from her crouch, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and called out, “Lucky charm!” while throwing his yo-yo up into the air.

It spun above his head, glowing brightly, and Kitty had to shield her eyes from the pinkish light. When she looked again, Coccinello held a banana, and he seemed disappointed about it.

“Not what I would have summoned. Needed a snack?” she joked.

His shoulders fell. “I can’t control what I summon; it’s whatever Tikki thinks will help me. She has a funny idea of being helpful, though.”

Kitty’s glance lingered on the banana a little longer. She began to feel a creeping worry. Did Coccinello know what he was doing? Would he just get in her way?

Of course, she had to remind herself to get off her high horse. She didn’t know what she was doing either.

She clenched her fists determinedly. “It’s time for action. We can figure out what that banana can do for us as we go along. Maybe we can eat it as a celebratory snack for defeating our first monster!” and with that, Kitty extended her baton, allowing it to lift her off the rooftop and propel her towards the beast.

Coccinello followed suit, throwing his yo-yo to catch onto a lamppost and using it as a grappling hook, pulling himself forward, landing on a rooftop in front of the beast to get a good look at its head while Kitty Noire inspected the back.

She landed gently on the ground beneath the monster, sheathing her baton and climbing up the monster’s back. Even through her gloves, she could feel that the beast’s pelt was synthetic.

The monster cried out in protest, trying to turn to swat Kitty away.

“I’ve got it!” Coccinello cried over the clamor. “Use your baton to trip it!”

“On it!” she called back, extending her baton and throwing it forward, catching it against two lampposts.

Coccinello splatted the banana into the monster’s face, and spun out of its reach with his yo-yo as it clawed into the air blindly. It moved its paws to wipe the banana out of its eyes, and so didn’t see the obstacle that Kitty had created.

One leg caught, then the other, and Coccinello wrapped his yo-yo around the monster’s limbs as it flailed, trying to regain its balance. Down, down, it crashed, and Kitty had to refrain from yelling “timber!”

Both heroes hopped onto the machine’s back as it fell, and Coccinello reached a hand into the crevice at the back of its neck, pulling away the faux fur. Underneath it laid a battery, with tiny wires burying themselves inside the machine.

Kitty Noire knew what she had to do. “Cataclysm!” she cried, and her whole body trembled with the power coursing through her veins, manifesting itself in her right palm, the ring there glowing almost yellow. She pressed her hand onto the battery, and the contact it made was like a conduit. She immediately felt the energy release, and the battery crumpled into dust beneath her palm.

The monster suddenly stopped thrashing, stopped crying out. It went completely still. 

“We did it!” Kitty could hardly believe it. They stopped the monster! They really were heroes.

But she may have spoken too soon, because just as the monster stopped moving, the machine began to tremble beneath them. On reflex, both heroes hopped off of its back, just as the entire thing disintegrated before their eyes. 

And in its wake — in the dust that remained — laid a body. A woman’s body.

Kitty Noire couldn’t contain her gasp. Coccinello just stood there, frozen.

Before she could think twice, Kitty was running to the woman, with Coccinello hot on her heels, her mind working double speed. Was that the person behind this? The one who was controlling the machine?

“Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t that Mme. Renault? The woman who went missing?” Coccinello asked from over her shoulder.

Kitty Noire knelt next to the body, cautiously touched the woman’s shoulder with a gloved hand. She didn’t stir.

Kitty’s eyes narrowed in fear, and she gently rolled the woman over onto her back, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t find what she knew she would find.

“Oh, no…” she breathed. The woman’s entire chest was cut, the wound gouged deep, her blood already soaking the Parisian street. Her eyes were half-closed, lips slightly parted, but no air passed between them.

Kitty’s mind went into overdrive. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…!” she cried out, her voice trembling and increasing in volume without her control. “You’re going to be okay, we saved you, you’re going to be okay!” She said it like a demand, pressing her hand to the woman’s ruined chest, trying desperately to stop her from bleeding out.

Coccinello leaned over, put a hand on her shoulder, called, “Kitty?” But it was if he was calling her from miles away.

“You’re okay, you’re going to be okay, you’ve just got to be!” She was yelling it now, hot tears running down her magical domino mask. She cradled the dead woman to her chest, held her lifeless body against her own as if that could revive her, but nothing was working, why was nothing working?

Her frustration grew into desperation. “Cocci!” she shrieked. “You’ve got to help me save her!” She turned to look up at the young man standing above her, whose eyes were shining with an emotion he couldn’t bring himself to voice — the truth that Kitty knew inside herself. The fear that there was nothing anyone could do.

Suddenly Coccinello stiffened, turning to examine the wide street behind them. He began to hear the faint whine of sirens; he looked up to see an approaching helicopter. He knew their time was running short, and if the authorities arrived now, their career as Paris’ magical heroes could end before it started. “Kitty, we’ve gotta go,” he said, his voice distracted, but she didn’t hear him at all, just held Mme. Renault to herself, even tighter now than before, and she spoke lowly yet fiercely, as if uttering a chant.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe now here, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” her voice breaking with tears as she continued to speak. Because Kitty Noire wouldn’t accept failure — there was no way that they could have failed.

Coccinello’s emotions warred with each other. He didn’t want to have to rip Kitty so cruelly from the woman she killed, and yet what else was there to do?

The police began to close in. Coccinello couldn’t wait any longer. “I’m sorry, Kitty,” he told her, but he knew she wasn’t listening to him. He grasped her upper arm, and pulled her away from the limp body of Mme. Renault, who flopped onto the pavement without Kitty’s arms to support her.

“No! Let me go!” she screamed, clawing at his grip, reaching desperately out to the dead woman.

Coccinello hesitated a moment, giving the body a last look, before yo-yo-ing into the distance before the police arrived on the scene.

The still-crying Kitty Noire held onto his shoulders as he flew through the night, stopping on a rooftop far from the scene of the crime. A deserted manufacturing building.

He let her go as his feet touched the sturdy roof, pulling his yo-yo back and securing it in place around his waist. Kitty just sank onto her knees, holding herself and crying softly, nothing like the hysterical wailing from earlier.

Kitty suddenly felt so small. How could she have felt so invincible, so strong, only an hour before? She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together.

Even Coccinello was doing nothing but standing there, looking down at her. Was he as ashamed of her as she was of herself? Because Mme. Renault was dead. And there was no one to point to but her. 

Coccinello finally sat beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, she guessed in comfort, although she was sure she didn’t deserve it.

“Coccinello,” she breathed.

“Yes…?” He answered, with a croak in his voice.

She hesitated. “I just murdered someone.”

“No you didn’t,” he told her, but she knew it was a lie.

“Yes, I did. I just murdered someone.” She covered her bright green cat eyes with her bloody hands. “We’re supposed to be heroes, Coccinello. We’re supposed to save people, not kill them.”

“I know.”

Kitty Noire buried her face even further into her hands. Like maybe if she pushed her palms into her eyes hard enough, it would undo everything that had happened. Coccinello just tightened his grip on her shoulder, maybe trying to lessen her distress.

That was so kind of him. She felt like an idiot for doubting him before. After all, if she hadn’t been there today, if Coccinello had fought the mecha bear alone, Mme. Renault would probably still be alive. She was the one who should be doubted. Maybe she shouldn’t be Kitty Noire, maybe she should stop now, before she hurt more people… “I’m not fit to be a hero,” she concluded, and intended it to come out strong, but the words got choked in her throat. 

Coccinello sat up straighter, pulled Kitty away from his core so he could get a better look at her. “That’s nonsense.” He reached for her blood-smeared hand, clasped it in his own. “You didn’t kill that woman, Kitty, and you can argue with me until the sun comes up,” he told her, interrupting her protest, “but that’s the fact. It was an unfortunate coincidence, that’s all. You’re a hero now, you can’t let a death shake you,” he exhaled, his countenance darkening, “because if you do, you’ll never be able to stand back up again.”

Kitty Noire focused on the strength of Coccinello’s hand wrapped around hers, trying to find something constant to ground her back in reality. Someone had died tonight, and it was her fault. But maybe Coccinello was right. It was an accident.

She slowly nodded, wiping away her tears, streaking blood onto her mask. “Thank you,” she breathed quietly.

Coccinello stood up, pulling her along with him. Kitty didn’t think she had the energy to stand on her own, and was grateful. She looked up into his open blue eyes, the ones that had disarmed her earlier, and searched for a place of comfort in there. He gave her a shaky smile, said, “You look terrible. There’s blood everywhere.”

She chuckled once, but it had more sadness than humor in it. “You don’t look so good either,” she smiled, examining his dirt-matted hair and scraped-up suit.

He squeezed her shoulders, making her eyes jump back to meet his. The normally clear blue was suddenly troubled, and Kitty’s heart faltered. What was he going to say? Did he change his mind, realize that she wasn’t fit to be a hero after all?

He took a breath, and then said, “I don’t know you very well, Kitty Noire. But I think you’re so brave. What happened back there was horrifying, but you handled it with more compassion than anyone in the world could have done.” He looked away, into the moonlight, still holding her shoulders. “You care about innocent people. You’re the perfect person to be a hero,” he said after a moment. 

She didn’t know what to say to that. Was that all it took? Kitty Noire’s gaze fell to their feet, his red and spotted, and hers dainty with green soles. They seemed to compliment one another.

“Have a good night, Kitty Noire. Take care of yourself,” it came out heavy, and Kitty searched Coccinello’s eyes one last time, but this time she wasn’t sure what she was searching for. Before she could find it, he gave her a dubious smile, dropped his hands from her shoulders, and casted his yo-yo into the night, flying off into the distance, back to wherever he came from.

Kitty Noire noticed that everything was suddenly colder without him, and the dim lamplight was nothing in comparison to the smile he had given her. Without his arms lending her strength, she sank back down onto the rooftop, and bawled quietly into her hands once again. She had murdered someone. How had Coccinello enabled her to forget it?

“Detransformation,” she mumbled into her palms, where her tears now mixed with the blood still stained there.

In a flash, she was Marinette again, just a defenseless girl, cold and miserable on a rooftop. “Oh, Plagg.”

His face turned into one of horror, his small gasp drowned by her cries. “Marinette, you were astounding for your first fight.” He floated close to her, tried to comfort her by rubbing his small kwami paws on her hair.

“But, Plagg, I didn’t save her. Did I use cataclysm wrong?” Marinette looked up at her kwami with tearstained eyes, her desperation almost tangible.

Plagg shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I don’t know what the trick to defeating this enemy is.” 

She clenched her fists in frustration. “But we can’t use trial and error to find out! I can’t kill more people, Plagg, I can’t,” and her voice cracked on the final words, her eyes filled again and she buried her face into her arms.

Plagg hesitated, still petting her hairline. He hated to see Marinette like this. Plagg had never had a female wielder before, and he found himself so protective of her, as if she was a daughter to him. It made his need to come up with something to help her even more acute. “Maybe we should visit the professor,” he suggested after a few unbearable moments.

Marinette’s mind whirled into action. The professor! How had she forgotten about him? If anyone could tell her what to do, it was him. She lifted her head back up and nodded, drying her tears for the last time, her determination in their new plan giving her the strength to pick herself up. “Okay, let’s do that.”

Marinette didn’t see Plagg’s smile of relief as she stood up, looking out into the night, already calculating the fastest route to Nino’s.

“Thank you, by the way,” she breathed out to him, and he just nodded at her, his steady neon eyes a beacon in the darkness. Marinette reminded herself that she’s never alone, now. She reached into her purse and fished out a few crackers, letting her kwami recharge. When he had finished, she took a deep breath. “Plagg, transform me!”

Kitty Noire looked down at her hands and was pleased to find no traces of blood on her suit. Everything was as pristine as it had been before the fight. She hopped onto a neighboring rooftop and raced back to the party, hoping no one was too worried about her in her absence.

Marinette arrived back at Nino’s at a little before 22:00. She tentatively knocked on the door, hoping Alya would be the one to answer. Nino’s face, illustrated with concern, met her in the threshold instead.

“Where were you? Alya called you about a hundred times!”

Marinette squirmed. She hadn’t even bothered to check her phone on the rooftop. “I was with Adrien. And after the monster vanished I went for a walk. To get my emotions straight,” she fibbed, “and my phone was on silent, because I was really stressed and I didn’t want to be distracted by it…”

Nino’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing, opening the door and letting her back in. Marinette noticed everyone was still there, sitting around the TV, except for Adrien. 

Marinette approached behind Alya and began to apologize, but Alya wasn’t paying attention, her eyes fixed to the screen. Marinette moved her gaze up to follow what had her friend so engrossed, and her skin crawled when she saw just what the news was reporting on.

Clara Contard stood next to the remains of the metal suit, relating the revelations about the true nature of the monster, and speculating how it was destroyed. She mentioned some experts, which were currently analyzing the metal the cyborg was made out of, believed that the cyborg had “self-destructed accidentally, killing the person controlling it from the inside.”

Nadja Chamack, at her side, announced, “Mme. Marily Renault was finally located and pronounced to have died around 21:00.” Alya gasped and Marinette could hardly keep the tears from escaping again. “We are currently unsure whether she was the one behind this attack, or if her kidnapper had placed her inside the robot to control it against her will.”

Nadja continued, “As the police approached the crime scene, two mysterious people were briefly seen leaving it,” and a recording of Marinette’s superhero self and Coccinello flying away played as Nadja voiced over. 

“Oh my God,” Alya breathed in disbelief. “Who are they? Their costumes are so cool!” Her voice rose in volume and she might as well have had stars in her eyes.

“The authorities are investigating who these masked people might be. Are they the ones behind the attacks? Or were they trying to help stop the monster?”

A stone settled itself inside Marinette’s stomach as Nadja spoke. Friend or foe, indeed.

Chapter Text

Alya bubbled all the way back to their apartment, speculating wildly about what she called “the new superheroes.”

“Aren’t you excited, Marinette? This is legendary! We have our very own Spiderman and Catwoman in Paris!” She nearly jumped up and down as Marinette fiddled with her key in the lock.

What could she say? Of course she wasn’t excited. She was downright terrified. How Mme. Renault looked when she had found her, how she had felt when Kitty Noire had lifted her, kept playing again and again in her mind, like a broken movie reel. “I’m not so sure, Alya. I don’t think I trust them. How are you so confident?”

They entered their bedroom and Alya made a beeline for the bathroom. “How are you so unconfident?” she parried. “I just know they’re here to do good. I can just tell. I know they tried to save Mme. Renault — I don’t believe in any speculation about the contrary. I think she must have died on them and they were afraid of the cops finding them there, with a dead woman, so they left. I would have done it too. But they’ll be back! I know they will.”

Marinette’s chest tightened, her face struggling between smiling and crying, as she listened on the other side of the door. Alya sounded so sure, she believed so much in just the little bit she had seen. How could she have so much conviction? It touched Marinette, it made her want to buckle down and start bawling again. It was all too much.

The toilet flushed and the water ran, and Marinette sniffed and tried to make herself presentable. How would she explain herself if Alya found her like this, a watery mess?

She hid in the closet under pretense of getting out of her dress to buy herself more time.

“So,” Alya began, her tone full of implication. “I saw you and Adrien. You’d better spill!”

Marinette pulled on her pajamas, trying to come up with a satisfactory response, but failing. In all honesty, she couldn’t talk about Adrien. Meeting him at the party felt like a lifetime ago, when she was just Marinette, before she had incidentally caused an innocent woman to die. What was there to say on that topic now, now that it had become irrelevant?

“Oh, I don’t know, Alya. He was nice, he had pretty eyes. But there’s nothing there.”

Alya’s voice sounded dejected. “I was so sure you two had really hit it off!”

Marinette’s stomach felt eaten up with guilt. Alya was right, of course they had! But if Marinette admitted that, she would have no excuse for her current state of shame and sorrow. “We did,” she breathed out, letting her words lace with the way she was feeling. “But I’m not sure if it’s smart to pursue this. I already told you that I don’t have time to date; even now I’m thinking about how I’m going to get all my homework done since I have one night fewer. We tried, Alya, but I’m not sure I can handle romance right now, even if I may have liked it.”

Alya didn’t say anything for a long time, and when Marinette was done changing and came out, she found her roommate just sitting pensively on the side of her bed.

“I’m sorry for pressuring you. You did tell me that, and it was selfish of me to get our hopes up when I know how busy you are.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just looking out for me,” and Marinette hugged her friend before they both got into bed.

Even though the lights were off, Marinette couldn’t fall asleep for a long, long time.

She awoke on Sunday morning, groggy and poorly-rested. Her mind immediately jumped to the professor, and how she and Plagg had decided to ask him for help, but her thoughts were crushed by the remembrance that it was still the weekend. She would have to wait till tomorrow to get the answers she needed.

Marinette got up and did the textbook reading for History of Modern Fashion, her eyes glazing over and making her reread passages again and again. She didn’t have the heart to cook anything for breakfast, so she shoved a few of Plagg’s Cheese-Itz in her mouth and kept reading. 

She attempted to focus, but images of yesterday’s battle kept intruding on her concentration. She couldn’t stop seeing Mme. Renault’s cold, lifeless face. Her ruined body. Marinette put the book down and held her knees up to her chin, trying not to cry. She told herself to remember the nice things Coccinello had told her, because she knew that they had helped her at the time. About how it was an unfortunate coincidence, about how she was so compassionate, about how she was the perfect person to be a hero as a result. She tried to even her breathing as well, knew that if she let herself spiral out of control, she’d have a panic attack. And the only thing she was more afraid of than failing at being a hero, was having her roommates find out about it.

Marinette toyed with her ring to calm herself, and as she did so, an idea previously unthought of occurred to her. What if she took the ring off? What if she gave up on being Kitty Noire? Coccinello was strong, and unshaken by the things that frightened her. He could do it on his own; he didn’t need her.

She spun it around her finger, the spiraling movement causing it to slowly travel closer and closer to her nail, until — pop! — it slipped off and landed on the waxy pages of her textbook.

Now it looked just as it had when Marinette first beheld it — ancient and delicate, as if blown out of glass.

Marinette’s shoulders fell in relief, as if a weight was removed from them. It was so simple. Now she could go back to being a regular college student. She put the ring in her pocket and made a mental note to give it back to Professor Fu on Monday.

Marinette got ready for work while Alya was in the kitchen, making lunch. Since she had the room to herself, she could finally look for Plagg, as she hadn’t seen him all morning. She had really felt the loss of his company, but she didn’t let herself linger on that.

“Plagg?” she hissed, looking first under her bed, then in all her drawers. He wouldn’t hide from her deliberately, would he?

Marinette was annoyed. What if there was another emergency and she was needed? Then she remembered that she had removed the ring; emergencies were no longer her concern. She forced herself to breathe out and just continue getting ready for work. If Plagg wanted to hide, he could. It was no skin off her nose if she left for work without him.

She clocked in at Sloppy Joe’s and headed into the locker room to fix her hat, and was shocked to find someone already in there, doing the same.

“Oh! Sorry!” Marinette blundered, closing the door as fast as she could.

“That’s okay, you can come in,” the girl told her with a smile. She had long, straight hair, the straightest Marinette had ever seen, and it was a very appealing shade of brown.

When she had finished with her hat, she stepped away from the mirror and put her hand out to Marinette. “I’m new here, it’s my first day today. The name’s Lila.”

“Marinette. Nice to meet you. Am I going to be training you today?”

Lila shrugged. “Maybe! I’m really not sure of anything!” And then she laughed, and it was a lovely, contagious laugh, and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh as well. Her day had started out awful, but with any luck, it would turn around.

Marinette showed Lila the ropes of how to work at Sloppy Joe’s. She taught her the basics on how to fry the French fries, cook the burgers, and make the sloppy joes, of course. She trained her on the cash register and helped her take a few orders. Aurore and Michel helped out, too, and before the day was over, Lila was a natural.

She was also incredibly sweet. Whenever she didn’t know something, she always apologized for bothering them, especially during the rushes, but once she learned, she caught on, and she wasn’t afraid to ask follow-up questions. 

“You’re a doll, Marinette! I’m sure I would have completely failed on my first day without your guidance,” she said, grinning brightly.

Marinette couldn’t help but feel proud of herself. She was a model employee!

When the work day was over, Lila and Marinette left the restaurant together, chatting and learning about each other. Lila was a local, but not a student at UFD like herself. She went to a smaller school more south of Paris, and recently moved out of her parents’ place and got a job to pay her own rent. “I’m really excited to have my own space!” she gushed.

“I wish I had my own space,” Marinette said with a rueful grin. 

“Why, annoying roommates?”

She hesitated. “Not exactly. But it’s nice to have a place of refuge all your own, you know?”

Lila nodded. “Well, maybe you can come over sometime. You guys have work parties, right? I can totally host!”

Marinette balked. Work parties? Her coworkers? The concept was laughable. “I’m not exactly sure. We’ve never had a work party before,” she admitted, not wanting to deter Lila.

But Lila grinned even wider and threw her hands up in the air. “Never?! Okay, I’ve officially made it my mission to throw the most awesome work party in the history of Sloppy Joe’s! You’d better be there, Marinette,” and she winked before doing an excited little dance.

When Marinette got to her complex, she waved goodbye to Lila. “Work was really fun today, which it usually isn’t,” Marinette told her. “Thanks for being a great worker.”

But Lila shook her head. “It was all you! Thanks for a great first day of work! I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!”

Marinette watched her run off with a smile on her face. Astounding how one person can make your whole day.

When she opened her bedroom door, Marinette immediately began another search for Plagg, but to no avail. It made her nervous. If she was going to give the ring back to her professor, how would she explain the missing kwami?

She sat at her desk and examined the little cat bed she had sewn him, playing with it in her hands. She really did miss him. If only there was a way to have Plagg without having to be Kitty Noire.

Marinette fished the ring out of her pocket, admiring how the lamplight brought out all of its intricacies. Part of her felt compelled to put it back on, just for now, until tomorrow when she’d give it back. Another part of her fought against the pull, afraid that she might have a harder time taking it off again. But the part that compelled her won out; consumed by an almost supernatural desire to wear the ring once more.

She slipped it back on her finger, and was almost surprised that the same thing happened again; the ring changed, it glowed bright green — an almost blinding light — and then, once everything had settled, Plagg appeared once more; simply floating in the air above her desk.

“Marinette! That was very careless of you!” he scolded her, flying into her face aggressively.

She leaned away, breaking eye contact. “I didn’t know you’d go back into the ring when I took it off,” she tried to ease his anger, but nothing she could have said would have been less effective.

“Wait. You… You mean to say you took the ring off?!” he shouted, spinning in a circle. “As in, it didn’t accidentally come off? As I had assumed?” Plagg stared at her, daring her to defy him. Marinette’s heart sank. She was in real trouble now.

“Um, yeah, I took the ring off, but please don’t be upset!” she begged. “I don’t think I can do this, Plagg! Coccinello is way more equipped to handle this than I am,” she put her chin on her knees and looked at the floor. “He’s better off without me.”

Plagg’s anger fused out. His small shoulders fell and he flew down to sit on the edge of Marinette’s desk. “Coccinello can’t do this without you, Marinette, no matter what you may think. If you quit now because one person died, then more people will certainly keep dying! The two of you are a team!”

Marinette’s brow furrowed and she heaved a sigh. Coccinello had said as much, and when she forced herself to think about it, he would indeed be disappointed to find out all of the pressure was now on him. “Well… What about giving the miracle stone to someone else? Someone less stressed, someone who can handle this kind of pressure.” Her mind jumped to Alya. Alya was obsessed with the heroes! She would be the perfect person!

But Plagg cut in. “Professor Fu chose you for a reason, Marinette. He knows that you’re capable of this kind of stress, even if you don’t believe it. But who else could achieve the things you’ve achieved?”

She tried to come up with more excuses, but none came. Plagg was right — she could handle this. She just had to be a little braver and a little more forgiving of herself. Of course, that was easier said than done. Could she actually do it? Could she let herself continue to be Kitty Noire, knowing that because of her, an innocent life was taken?

“Ugh!” She gripped her head to make it stop spinning. “This is so overwhelming!”

Plagg immediately flew onto her shoulder and put a paw on her hand. “Marinette, listen to me. I know you doubt yourself, but I want you to know that I have complete faith in you. And that means a lot, because I’ve been paired with hundreds of wielders across all time periods. Now, please, promise me you won’t take the ring off again?” He floated to look her in the eye, and Marinette’s heart broke to see how his eyes shone with sadness, to see his long whiskers droop.

She put her hand out and he went into it, sitting in her palm as she debated with herself. What he had said truly did mean a lot to Marinette; and she knew he wasn’t just saying it to make her feel better. He was an expert.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you, Plagg. You’re a great kwami. And for the moment, I promise not to take the ring off. But if I keep failing, again and again, and people continue to die because of me, I can’t justify keeping it on. I’ll have to return it to the professor.” It hurt Marinette to think about — to imagine being the cause of so much death. But she knew she had to be the bigger person, to own up when she simply just couldn’t do something. 

“I can respect that,” Plagg answered from her palm, “but I can assure you that it won’t happen.”

Marinette almost let herself hope so.

In the early evening, while Marinette was reading the assigned article for Chinese Mythology, her phone rang.

It was her mother.

Marinette’s limbs froze. What could she be calling about this time? Maybe she had seen the news, had seen the monster, seen Mme. Renault pronounced dead, seen the heroes… maybe she would be in a panic. Marinette’s eyes were starting to pool from just that simple reminder of her failure, the truth that her mother might find Kitty Noire to be as dangerous as Marinette feared she was.

She pressed on the green button despite her fears.

“Hi, Maman,” she breathed into the receiver.

“Oh, sweetheart, have you seen the news, are you safe?” Her mother’s frenzied voice came through the other line, just as she’d been afraid of.

Marinette nodded. “Yes, I’m okay.”

Her mother steamrolled on. “I think you should come home, take the rest of the semester off, it’s too dangerous in Paris, with all these monsters and supervillains, you could be kidnapped and attacked just like that poor woman, I couldn’t bear it!” Her voice began to break at the end of her sentence, and Marinette couldn’t say anything, could only hang her head in her hands.

She couldn’t leave Paris. She’d just promised Plagg she’d try again. But what if her mother was right, what if she was a supervillain? Hadn’t he said something earlier, about heroes going bad?

Her father broke into her spiraling thoughts. “Your mother is just worried, Marinette. You should stay, I know you have a lot of commitments. But seriously consider quitting your job. We don’t want you out and about late at night.”

Marinette shook her head. “I can’t, it’s the only way I can pay my rent, Papa.”

“We’ll send you a portion of the earnings from the bakery!”

“No, no, no,” she rushed to assure them. She knew they couldn’t afford that. “I promise I’m safe, I…” but could she promise that? After what she’d done?

Plagg caught her eye from his place on her desk. He gave her a short nod, but it was his expression that convinced her. He looked so confident, as though there was no reality in which Marinette’s safety — and the rest of Paris’ safety — could ever be in question. Because she was Kitty Noire, and he believed in her.

Marinette took a deep breath. “I promise you both, there’s nothing to worry about. Those were superheroes you saw on the news, not villains. If there’s another monster that appears, they’ll stop it, and they’ll save anyone who might be in danger.”

It came out with conviction, and Marinette dropped her shoulders with pride. She needed to do this.

“Okay, dear. You seem to know more about it than we do,” her father replied, his tone a little questioning.

Marinette’s heart started to pound. He wasn’t insinuating anything, was he? Did he suspect, did he recognize the cat-suited girl he’d seen on TV?

But her mother’s words gave her an excuse to ignore her father’s. “If you’re sure you’re safe, that’s all that matters to me.”

“I am, really and truly.”

That was all it took to relieve their stresses, and they parted with smiles and promises to talk again soon. Marinette took a deep breath once she was off the phone.

The main task now was to ensure she could deliver on her assurances.

Marinette’s leg jiggled nervously all through Chinese Mythology. She couldn’t pay attention. All she could think about was how she absolutely needed to get Professor Fu alone in his office hours so she could ask him about her cataclysm.

Sunflower Boy raised his hand about thirteen times during class, but Marinette couldn’t roll her eyes anymore. Instead she listened intently to what he had to say, and she caught herself sitting up higher in her seat to get a better look at him.

What was she doing? It was futile. She and Adrien were in entirely different worlds. She was a superhero, and he was not. There was no way they would ever work out together.

But it didn’t stop her heart from gently thrumming whenever he spoke.

Marinette ran out of class as soon as it was over, as if getting to History of Modern Fashion any faster meant she could talk to Fu sooner. At least she made an effort to pay attention in this class, since it was for her major, after all. But no important and revolutionary designers could compete with the secrets of the miracle stones for her attention.

When that class finally ended as well, Marinette nearly sprinted back to the humanities building. When she got to Fu’s office, his door was wide open, and he was sitting at his desk leafing through a book, completely at ease. “Come in, Marinette,” he said, without looking up.

“How did you know it was me?” she squeaked, crossing the threshold and taking his office in. There were many bookshelves, with modern paperbacks squished beside ancient tomes. Classical Chinese decorations adorned all of the bare wall space, which was not much, and Fu’s desk had a small battery-powered waterfall, which babbled relaxingly as he read.

“I saw the news on Saturday. And I also saw you in class this morning. You looked about ready to pop a blood vessel.”

Marinette’s face fell. “Ah, I was sort of hoping you hadn’t,” she said, ignoring his joke.

Fu tucked a ribbon into his book and closed it, standing from his desk and crossing the small room to close the door. “Of course I saw it. It’s my job to see it.”

Marinette fidgeted, opening her clutch to let Plagg out — even though he could phase — now that the door was closed. “The thing is, I cataclysmed the robot, but I didn’t realize there was a person inside, and I think my cataclysm may have inadvertently killed them. Plagg and I were wondering, did I do something wrong? Would there have been a way for me to cataclysm the monster without harming the person inside?”

The professor’s brow furrowed. “Hm. That sounds awful. I’m not sure if you did anything wrong, exactly. After all, your cataclysm didn’t go haywire. But it sounds like it had some unintended effects.” He moved to a bookshelf and scanned the titles.

“Marinette is afraid of this potentially happening again. Do you know any way she could cataclysm the machine only, and spare the human inside, if such a thing were to arise in the future?” Plagg and Marinette exchanged a glance.

Fu pulled a heavy volume off a high shelf, and brought it over to his desk. He opened it and began leafing rapidly through the pages, stopping at a page with a watercolor illustration of a Chinese warrior, presumably wearing the black cat miracle stone. His suit design was very different from Marinette’s, but certain similarities remained.

It appeared the text was in some sort of code. Strange symbols decorated the page, symbols unlike any Marinette had seen before. “Can you read those?” she asked in astonishment, as she watched the professor scan the page, indeed seeming to be reading.

“Of course. I have to. It’s a requirement to being a guardian.” He continued looking at the page, flipping onto the next one, which had another illustration, this time of the warrior’s hand glowing brightly. “Unfortunately, I can’t find anything in here about cataclysm on a person. I’m not sure anyone’s ever done it before.”

Marinette’s heart sank. What then? If even Fu didn’t know how to solve the problem, what hope did she have?

He suddenly closed the book in irritation, heading back to the bookshelf and searching for another volume. “Perhaps there will be something in here…”

He procured an equally ancient tome and put it down onto the first one. As he flipped through the pages, Marinette looked over his shoulder, admiring the artwork. A few of the warriors wore ladybug-inspired armor, others wore even more colors that may have been representative of different animals; but Marinette didn’t have enough time to examine them as Fu flew through the pages.

He finally stopped flipping and began skimming again, and Marinette and Plagg waited patiently for him to finish. She wished she could help in some way.

“The only thing I can find in here about a cataclysm gone awry is in the case of a cursed miracle stone, but your stone is not cursed, so it is not applicable.” Fu heaved a sigh and closed this book as well. “I’m not sure what to tell you, Marinette; this might just be something you and Plagg have to figure out together, while you’re using his powers. Perhaps a different approach, one never used before by a wielder of this miracle stone, is the solution you’re looking for.”

Marinette’s heart sank. A different approach? What did that even mean? It meant that there was nothing anyone could do; that she was just a pathetic excuse for a hero. She looked at Plagg, his ears and whiskers drooping in disappointment. It helped her make her decision. “In that case, Professor, I think it’s best I give you this back. I’m afraid you entrusted the wrong person when you gave me this ring.”

But Professor Fu just smiled, turning to return both books to the cluttered shelf. “Ah, but that would solve nothing at all, my dear. Instead of focusing on all of the reasons you believe you’re the wrong person, focus on all of the reasons you know you’re the right one. Anyone can wield a miracle stone. Only those that are truly brave, that truly want to do good, are the right ones, as you say.”

Marinette was unconvinced. “But — I clearly don’t want to do good. I’m not brave like Coccinello. I’m here, trying to give you the stone back. If anything, that makes me a coward.”

Professor Fu shook his head, walking back to the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle, turned to face her and said, “Do you want to know how I know, Marinette?”

Her eyebrows knitted into a worried line, and she simply nodded, trying not to be shaken by how calm he was.

“I know,” he told her, “because you asked me for help. A coward would have slipped the ring under my door and ran away. The brave ones are always the ones to look for another solution, and try again, no matter how badly they may have failed before.” With that, he opened the door to his office, gave her a knowing grin, and sauntered back to his desk. “Is there anything else you wanted to ask me regarding your paper?”

Realizing that there were a few students waiting in the hallway, and thus that their conversation was no longer private, Marinette just shook her head. “No, Professor. I think… I think I’ll try a new approach. Thank you.” She looked about discreetly, but Plagg was nowhere in sight; he must have phased into her bag while she was focusing on Fu’s words.

He smiled again and nodded once. “Of course. Feel free to come back any time you have questions.”

And with that, she departed, her mind reeling. She stared at the floor as she walked down the hallway, and so didn’t see just who was waiting there.

“Hi, Marinette.”

She jumped about ten feet into the air, her heart racing. Had this person heard anything that had gone on in Fu’s office? Was her secret out?

Oh. It was just Sunflower Boy, waving to her. He was leaning against the wall, looking very at home. 

“Hi, Adrien,” she breathed out, trying not to seem as startled as she was.

“Getting feedback on your paper?” he asked. “I’m just asking because this is the first time I’ve seen you in office hours.”

Marinette’s hand flew behind her head in nervousness. Ah yes, what happened to those cover stories she said she was going to come up with for situations like this? “Um, yep, I am. I guess I was wondering about the rubric, how my paper was graded, in particular, nothing other than that,” she tittered. Admittedly, some of her nerves were totally unrelated to her secret identity. It was honestly very unfair that Adrien could look so good just leaning casually against a wall, arms crossed gently over his broad chest.

He nodded like she was making complete sense. “Ah! I find the rubrics for papers like these are usually the same across all history and mythology classes.”

Marinette was relieved that the conversation had moved away from her activities. “Oh. I wouldn’t know, this is the first class I’ve taken in this subject. Well, I suppose my History of Modern Fashion class is history, but we don’t write papers; it’s more about the evolution of how fashions have changed as the industry has grown, and it’s basically a memorize-and-regurgitate class, where you just need to know the names of designers and important dates for the midterm…” and Marinette was rambling again. Why couldn’t she just stop talking? This was way too much information.

She took a deep breath, wanting to facepalm. Adrien probably thought she was a Grade A idiot at this point.

But he just laughed. “That sounds pretty fun! You’re a fashion major, right? I figured you were, since you make your own clothes and all that,” he leaned forward and raised his eyebrows, like he was referencing a private joke they shared.

Marinette squirmed, twiddling her thumbs. “You didn’t forget about that, huh?”

“Hmm, no,” he chuckled.

“Well, uh, what’s your major, then?” she asked, desperately trying to deflect. They were talking about nothing, why was she getting all worked up?

Adrien got off the wall to move forward as the line progressed. “I’m a double major, actually,” he admitted, a bit sheepish.

Adrien, being sheepish? All of Marinette’s nervousness jumped out the window in her intrigue. “Double major? Oh, wow,” she breathed. “In what?”

“Physics and Mythological Studies,” he told her, with a little glow that was very comely. His excitement to talk about his interests was warring with his humility, and Marinette couldn’t stop the little smile that involuntarily spread over her features. Sure, Sunflower Boy was a huge nerd. But all of a sudden, being a nerd seemed kind of cool.

“Interesting combination. Very diverse.” She nodded in approval, and he ducked his head and blushed a little. It was a lovely sight to behold, and Marinette blushed, too. 

“Thank you,” he replied quietly, still looking away. Marinette took advantage of his averted gaze to really take in his features. He had a fine jawline, long eyelashes, and a tiny dimple buried there in his cheek when he smiled. Marinette thought he should be a model.

He suddenly looked back at her, and his green gaze just about burned a hole right in Marinette’s. She couldn’t look away fast enough. 

“God, is that the time?” she babbled. “I really need to get going, but it was great catching up with you, Adrien!”

He cocked his head in confusion at her behavior but nodded politely. “Sure, see you around!” and he waved as she left, nearly running.

“Ughhh,” she groaned. “Plagg, tell me that didn’t just happen.” What was wrong with her? She was talking to her crush! Why did she sabotage the whole thing? 

And then her train of thought crashed as she caught up to it. Sunflower Boy, her crush? But it was true. And as she realized it, she also realized that she was the only person in the world who would develop a crush on someone who managed to simultaneously be both a complete dork and totally out of her league.

Plagg poked out of her clutch as she waited for the elevator. “Um, it didn’t just happen?” he offered with a grimace.

After a long day at the Parisian Design House, running around doing whatever Ronaldo had asked of her, Marinette unlocked the door to her apartment with every intention to flop onto the couch and stay that way.

“You doing alright?” Alya asked from the table.

Marinette threw her hands up in the air in answer. Today was a mess. She was pretty sure she had a hole in the bottom of her shoes from so much running around, she had made a complete buffoon of herself in front of Adrien, and worst of all, she still had no idea what a “different approach” to being Kitty Noire could be.

Alya’s expression fell. “Well, if you want to talk about anything, you know where I’ll be,” and she put her dish in the dishwasher before heading into their room, leaving Marinette alone.

Marinette covered her face with her hands. Plagg phased out of her bag and landed on the arm of the sofa. “Alya is such a good friend to you, Marinette. She’s always looking out for you,” he remarked with a smile, gazing at the closed door behind which she had disappeared.

Marinette just shrugged. “I suppose.”

Plagg’s eyes grew in surprise. “What do you mean? You don’t think so?”

She rolled over onto her side, propping her head up with her arm. “Oh, I don’t know. She and I haven’t really had all that many meaningful experiences together. Sure, we had some bad roommates, but that hardly counts. When it was over, what was left? I’m not sure we’ve bonded over all that much.”

Plagg looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you being serious right now?”

Marinette made a face at him in return. “What? Of course I am! Like… what do she and I have in common?” She lowered her voice. “She’s into journalism, I’m into fashion. She’s bubbly and social, and I keep to myself more. She’s in love and I can’t even string two sentences together in front of the guy I like,” she closed her eyes in painful remembrance.

Plagg didn’t say anything for a long time. “Wow, for someone so smart, you sure are being close-minded.”

Her eyes sprung open. “What does that mean?” she asked indignantly.

Plagg floated in the air in front of her eyes. “It means that you’re judging her on all the wrong things. You don’t have to study the same things to be friends, and you definitely don’t both have to be in relationships to be friends. And as for having nothing in common, think again — you both care deeply about the well-beings of others; in particular, about each other.” He sighed at Marinette’s unchanged expression. 

“Really? What have I done for Alya? What has she done for me?”

Plagg pulled on his whiskers in frustration. “I’ve only been your kwami for about three days, Marinette, so I don’t know the whole story. But it was very thoughtful of her to throw that party for you, and help you get ready for it.”

Marinette thought about that. He did have a point. But there was more to it than that! “She just did it because she wants to shake my life up, add a little drama.” Right?

Plagg flew a little higher in excitement. “Exactly! She knows you’re lonely, Marinette, even if you don’t broadcast it. Alya wanted to shake your life up because she wants to see you happy. By doing things that you might think are silly — like dolling you up for parties — she’s showing you she cares about you. She just shows it in a different way than you would. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t do it.”

The very backs of Marinette’s eyes itched, and she knew if she didn’t do something now, she was going to start crying. Was Plagg right? Was he really so perceptive of Alya’s true intentions, after just a few days? And worse, had Marinette been misjudging her friend this entire time? Belittling Alya’s feelings just because she was quick to declare Marinette as her best friend?

She stood up abruptly, marched over to the bedroom door, knocked, and called, “Hey, I’m going to go for a walk, okay? So don’t be worried about me if I’m gone for a while.”

She didn’t wait for Alya’s response before fleeing out into the night.

Chapter Text

That prickling feeling was still there, behind her eyes. But it was better to cry as Kitty Noire than as Marinette.

“Marinette? Where are we going?” Plagg asked, flying after her.

She didn’t answer, instead pulled over into a dark corner, untouched by moonlight or streetlamps. “Plagg, transform me,” she commanded, hardly above a whisper, afraid that if she spoke louder, her voice would crack.

The rush of power accompanied by the bright glow of transformation was beginning to feel familiar. Kitty Noire let herself smile about that.

She hopped into the darkness, trying to empty her mind, to clear it of everything except the physical sensations of the wind tugging on her braid and blowing in her face as she jumped from building to building. She didn’t know quite where she was going, but when she arrived at the edge of the Seine, she knew she had reached her destination. 

She sat on top of a lamppost, dangling her legs off the side. She took a few calming breaths and watched as the water gently lapped and shifted, sparkling with the reflection of so many stars and streetlights. She closed her eyes and listened to its soft rush, focusing on the ways the water moved, discerning its actions with her heightened sense of hearing. As she focused, other sounds made themselves heard. Crickets chirping in a nearby brush. A car driving down an adjacent street.

Her nagging tears ebbed away, and Kitty opened her eyes and exhaled, a long and measured thing. She was finally calm.

With that realization, it was time for action. Kitty stood atop the lamppost, one foot in front of the other, balancing on the thin steel. She looked down at the pavement beneath her, illuminated by the very light she stood upon, and was not afraid.

She pulled out her baton, extended it a few feet, and tried something new. Instead of using it as a pole vault, she wondered about something else. Kitty Noire held it above her head, and spun the baton in circles, trying to mimic a helicopter. As it began to spin faster, she bent her legs and pushed off!

The baton carried her up, up over the Seine, and giddiness overtook her. She was flying! She watched the lovely water pass beneath her, and she slowed her spinning, stopping altogether as she approached the ground on the other side of the river.

“Wow,” she said to herself. It was certainly a different approach to traveling. But she knew it wasn’t the kind of thing Fu had in mind when he told her that this morning. She needed something that was going to help her in a fight. Something that wasn’t cataclysm.

Kitty Noire elongated her baton again, but this time planted it firmly on the ground. She held the very tip, pressed the button once more, and almost laughed as it lifted her feet off the pavement, and kept going, carrying her higher and higher into the sky, and still she didn’t stop extending it, not until she was taller even than the tallest buildings in Paris. She hung there by her arm, letting her eyes take in the beauty of the entire city, lit up to fight the dark of the night. She closed her eyes and breathed in the crisp air. It sure was nice so high up.

Eventually, she pressed the button again and descended back to the surface. But something about her was rejuvenated. Some of her fears were allayed.

“I thought that might be you,” a voice called out, and Kitty perked her ears up, her gaze landing on a certain bug, sitting casually on the rooftop of a small café.

Kitty Noire smiled. “Well, I’m not sure there are any other cats in town with a baton that goes on forever.”

“Definitely not,” and he hopped down onto the ground beside her. “You doing better?” His brows raised anxiously. It made Kitty Noire feel at ease. He really had been worried about her.

“Yes, thank you.” Her eyes dropped to the reflecting water.

Coccinello didn’t say anything after that, just sat beside her on the pavement, watching the Seine.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked him.

Coccinello’s response surprised her in its sureness. “I keep watch every night. Just in case something happens.”

She stared at him, her mouth agape, but he was genuine. Kitty’s gaze fell into her lap. She had been right earlier. Coccinello was exceedingly devoted to the citizens of Paris; he took his job as their protector more seriously than she had imagined. Kitty Noire suddenly felt so negligent. It was her job, too, and she wasn’t doing it as well as she knew she could. 

Kitty examined her ring and clenched her fist in determination. From now on, she was going to do better. No more talk of giving up miracle stones. Coccinello certainly wasn’t able defend Paris all by himself, no matter what Kitty’s doubts would like her to think. It was time she stepped up, to not let one failure deter her.

She decided to pick his brain on the subject. “Cocci, how are you so confident about all of this? Sometimes, I get so overwhelmed I can’t move.”

Coccinello finally turned to look at her. “I feel overwhelmed, too — but then I remember that I don’t have any other options. This is my duty; it’s something I have to do, no matter how hard it is, because I don’t have a choice.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Kitty played with her hair in its long braid. God knew she was.

“Of what?” Coccinello watched her run the tip of her braid along her palm, like it was a giant paintbrush.

Kitty Noire looked up at the dark sky and sighed softly. “More failures. I killed one victim. Who’s to say I won’t kill another? Or you won’t?”

Coccinello was silent for a few moments. “I just think we need to better learn how to use our powers. And better learn how to work together.” He looked back into Kitty’s neon green cat eyes. “There’s two of us for a reason, you know,” and he gave her a comforting smile, as if to remind her that neither of them had to go it alone.

It made her feel a little guilty for taking so long to realize the same.

When Marinette returned to her apartment, Alya was already asleep. Marinette found she couldn’t access her phone as Kitty Noire; so she was disappointed in herself when she transformed and found a few texts from her roommate, mostly along the lines of, “You’ve been out for a long time and I’m worried, but I know you wanted space so, I hope you’re okay.”

Plagg read the text over her shoulder and tried really hard not to give her an “I told you so” look, but he crossed his small arms over his chest and failed.

“I’m sorry,” Marinette breathed, pocketing the phone and getting ready for bed herself. What she was sorry for, exactly, she didn’t know. But today had been full of learning for her, and she planned to implement everything she had been taught. Including trying to better understand the auburn-haired girl in the bed next to hers.

Marinette chewed on the back of her pen in Chinese Mythology, zoning out. Zoning out on what, you ask? On the perfectly combed golden hair of Sunflower Boy, sitting six rows in front of her. 

Plagg cleared his throat from her clutch, and she jumped, torn out of her reverie. Color rising, Marinette hurriedly closed the bag, so that no one around her might accidentally see her kwami. And also so that she didn’t have to see her kwami. The knowing look he was giving her embarrassed her, but he was right: if she wasn’t careful, her crush on Sunflower Boy might turn into a full-blown infatuation, and she really, really didn’t have time for that.

History of Modern Fashion went much like it usually did, as there was no one cute there to distract Marinette. But about twenty minutes into class, all of the phones around her blipped, including her own.

She discreetly opened the message and had to suppress a gasp. “A new sighting at the Trocadero!” the blog posting read, with a shaky video clip of a gargantuan dragon flying across the blue Paris sky. A dragon! And it was completely aflame!

Some other students around her murmured quietly to one another, but everything tuned itself out for Marinette as she realized: this was it. Go time.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her bag, hastily threw her notes in it, and shoved through the row of the lecture hall, not even hearing the dissatisfied grunts of her classmates as she stepped on their feet and backpacks.

Of course she didn’t. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her pulse on overdrive. This is it, this is it, it seemed to pump out, over and over again. This was the big test. Would she be able to find a different approach? Or was she doomed to kill another innocent?

Marinette casted about in the hallway, searching for a place to transform. Were there security cameras here? If she went to the bathroom and Kitty Noire came out, would anyone see?

She stood there, frozen for a moment, paralyzed with indecision. She didn’t want to stupidly endanger her identity, even if she was in a hurry. “Plagg, what do I do?” she whispered desperately. 

“Oh, Marinette, jump into a bush if you have to. But you need to get out there! That dragon is burning Paris to a crisp!”

“Okay, okay, think!” she said, mostly to herself as she sprinted down the stairs, taking them many at a time. Marinette left the building, heart thudding. Were there cameras out here?

Perhaps, but there were also a few large trees. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but as her feet carried her there, it happened, almost without her control. She lined herself up behind the tree’s trunk, called out, “Plagg, transform me!” and a heartbeat later, she was Kitty Noire, extending her baton and vaulting onto the tops of the lecture rooms, racing to the Trocadero.

Kitty Noire couldn’t believe her eyes. It was otherworldly; that was the only word to describe it. And it was even more terrifying in person than in the video.

“Ah, Kitty, good to see you,” Coccinello greeted her as his feet landed on the roof beside her. “What’s our plan of attack this time?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m almost positive that there is a person in there, just like last time. And we need to get them out.” Her hands shook on her baton as she said it, trying to keep her voice even.

Below them, citizens and tourists alike scurried away in fear as the giant monster opened its jaws and sprayed them with its fiery breath, catching the trees and creating huge billows of smoke. The grassy fields below were invisible beneath the flames.

“Okay, we need to come up with something, and fast,” Coccinello gripped his yo-yo and tensed.

“Um,” Kitty’s mind whirled. She needed to do something. She needed the solution to this problem. The solution she didn’t have. “Let’s, um, let’s,” she tried, but she couldn’t think of anything at all. All she could think about was how important it was for her not to screw this up again.

Coccinello noticed her spluttering, and turned to see his partner immobilized beside him, her neon eyes the only thing moving. He dropped his stance and turned to stand in front of her. “Hey, you’re okay. How about we… how about we just fight the monster a bit, figure it out, learn more about it? Let’s not be hasty until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Coccinello’s wide blue eyes calmed her. Breathe, she told herself. She and Coccinello could do this. And even if they couldn’t, they would have to. “Okay, let’s,” she nodded, with more confidence than she really felt.

Both heroes spun off the roof and headed right toward the dragon. Coccinello threw out his yo-yo like a lasso, catching it against the monster’s tail and pulling, but the steel wire just slipped against the slick scales. On the other side, Kitty aimed her baton and extended it rapidly, like a shotgun, poking the dragon’s eye, hoping to inhibit its ability to see, as they had done with the bear. But instead of blinding it, Kitty only succeeded in angering it, and it came after her, flying full force and opening its jaws to shower her in flames. She bounded out of the way just in time, and she and Coccinello regrouped.

“So, that did nothing. We still don’t know where the person is in that thing. It’s massive!”

“My bet is the head; that’s where Mme. Renault was,” Coccinello noted. “But I don’t think this dragon is robotic. Its movements are way too smooth.”

“I was just about to say that. Which means… how will we defeat it? If it has no batteries to power down?” Kitty fiddled with her baton and looked to Coccinello with hope. He just tapped a finger on his chin in thought, his brows coming together unconfidently.

“Agh! I don’t know!” he cried out, suddenly, in frustration. “Forget it, lucky charm!” he called, tossing his yo-yo above his head, forehead wrinkled in concentration.

Kitty Noire wrung her hands, mentally asking Tikki to summon them a giant knife with which to cut the beast in half.

But when the bright light dissipated, a huge beach umbrella, taller than Coccinello, was in her partner’s grip.

She closed her eyes, her anger beginning to boil. Was an umbrella a step up from a banana? This was all starting to get overwhelming again. She knew she had made some promises yesterday, but they were so much easier to make in the moment, when the threat of being burnt alive wasn’t quite so present.

Coccinello opened the umbrella, twirling it in confusion. “Um…?”

But Kitty couldn’t take it anymore. “Let’s just beat this thing, like we did last time! Maybe what happened then was just a fluke, or… or maybe there’s no person in there after all!” She clenched her fist and called out, “cataclysm!”, watching as her ring glowed and began to overheat. 

Kitty scoped out the surroundings, trying to find the best way to launch herself right at the dragon.

“Wait! Kitty, no!” Coccinello yelled, brandishing the umbrella. “You can’t! I still need to figure out what the charm is for!”

Kitty Noire turned on him. “Oh for heaven’s sakes, Cocci! It’s an umbrella! What are we gonna do with it? Shield ourselves from the fire? A lot of good that will do!” she fumed.

But Coccinello’s clouded expression cleared itself. “Actually, yeah! Let’s try it! Maybe we need to get up close and personal with this thing!”

Kitty Noire almost rolled her eyes, unable to believe that he was actually going with it, but she didn’t get the chance to, because all at once, Coccinello’s arm was around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. “Hold this,” he commanded, putting the umbrella in her grip before she could respond. Then he pulled his yo-yo out and began to spin it rapidly above their heads, just as she had done with her baton last night. He was going to fly them right into the dragon.

Coccinello pushed off the building and the wind carried them closer to their goal. The dragon turned its jaws at them and breathed, but Kitty opened the umbrella right on cue, and to both her and Coccinello’s delight, the umbrella completely deflected the fire, as if it was made of some un-meltable material. 

In her excitement, Kitty moved to get a better grip on the umbrella, and for just a moment, she forgot all about the active cataclysm in her right hand. As her palm made contact with the umbrella, a jolt shot down her arm and the umbrella flashed brightly, like a lightning strike, before discharging and turning a near-black shade of purple.

Coccinello and Kitty Noire, both distracted by the unexpected change, did not see the swipe of the dragon’s tail until it was nearly too late, but Coccinello dodged, swinging his yo-yo to pull them away, the tail missing them by a hair. 

The dragon decided it was tired of playing games, and it turned on them, flying right at them, opening its jaws once more.

Coccinello thought fast, knowing that there was no chance that they could fly faster than it. He stopped spinning his yo-yo and allowed them to fall right onto the building below them, and both he and Kitty Noire immediately started running when their feet hit the paved rooftop. “So,” Coccinello called to her as they sprinted, dodging bursts of flame. “What happened back there?”

Kitty examined the umbrella in her hands. It seemed to vibrate in her grip, humming with power, much like her miracle stone had done the first time she beheld it. “I’m not sure,” she answered, “I accidentally cataclysmed your lucky charm, and theoretically, it should have disintegrated, but… it didn’t?”

Coccinello said nothing, his mind racing. The duo turned to hop onto another rooftop and hid beneath an overhang. Kitty Noire looked to Coccinello. His brow was furrowed in concentration. “What if… I mean, our powers are opposites. So… maybe my lucky charm is like the anti-cataclysm! If we pit them against one another, well,” and his eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers, turning to her with excitement. “Neither power is stronger than the other, so they’re at an impasse! They fused since neither could overtake the other! That’s it, Kitty! You got it!”

Kitty Noire looked down at the charged umbrella in her lap, her voice echoing his in disbelief. “I got it? On accident?”

“Looks like it! That right there is the first unlucky charm in history! Who knows what it can do for us!”

Kitty’s face spread into a wide grin. She figured it out! The different approach! She emerged from their hiding place, as the dragon circled about overhead, searching for them. “Well, let’s find out!” she replied, brandishing the umbrella like a sword.

Coccinello stepped to her side and gripped her waist again, propelling them toward the beast with his yo-yo. Kitty kept a firm hold on the umbrella, waiting for just the right angle to strike…

The dragon lashed out, but Coccinello had predicted that, and he moved to the side just before it reached them. Its attempt at a strike left its neck exposed, and Kitty Noire took that opportunity to lift the umbrella up over her head and bring it down as hard as she could. 

She was expecting it to bounce off the dragon’s thick skin, but as she and Coccinello had hoped, it did something entirely different. When the unlucky charm touched the monster, the contact point blazed up in a white light, buzzing with an almost electrical current, the umbrella shaking in Kitty’s grip as she felt the power release. She held even tighter to the charm, and Coccinello held even tighter to her, as they shielded their eyes as best they could.

The dragon screeched, an awful, echoing sound, and the pressure in Kitty Noire’s arms released as the umbrella finally passed cleanly through the monster’s skin. She almost dropped the charm in shock, but Coccinello was quicker to recover; he was the one to notice that the dragon was no longer aflame — and that it was rapidly falling out of the sky, crashing toward the singed ground beneath them. He stopped spinning his yo-yo and instead launched it below him, wrapping it around both halves of the dragon, slowing its fall. 

The heroes, however, were plummeting without Coccinello keeping them up. Kitty Noire opened the umbrella, which was no longer charged with magic, to slow their fall, but it did little. She watched the ground get closer and closer; they were still falling dangerously fast.

In a split decision, Kitty let the umbrella go in favor of her trusty baton, and she held it over her head and spun it as fast as her arms could, desperately trying to keep them from becoming pancakes after only their second battle.

Coccinello smiled at her as their feet gently touched the ground, and Kitty Noire allowed herself a few breaths before rushing to the defeated dragon. Coccinello bent to pick up the umbrella, which had fallen nearby, but before he could, it disintegrated into nothing. “Huh,” he remarked to himself. Had the cataclysm won out after all?

Kitty knelt next to the dragon with bated breath. The flames surrounding it had vanished, and now the skin was burnt, rapidly peeling away. And there, where the monster’s head had been, laid the body of a young boy.

Kitty Noire’s eyes filled with tears and her breathing hitched. The boy wasn’t moving — was he dead, too? Had she failed once again?

“Oh,” she cried out, running up to the boy, wrapping her arms around him, lifting him out of the debris. She couldn’t keep a tear from falling as she held the limp child out to Coccinello. “We failed, Cocci. Again.”

Her spotted partner took the boy in his own arms, examining him thoroughly. There was no blood, no appearance of injury this time. That was already a good sign. He brought two gloved fingers up to the boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

Kitty Noire curled her claws into her palms with anxiety.

Coccinello turned to look right at her, a small smile on his lips. “He’s alive. Unconscious, but alive.”

“Oh, thank God!” Kitty Noire exclaimed, wrapping her arms around them both in a flush of relief. They had done it. The boy was saved. She exhaled, and it was a heavy breath, one she hadn’t realized she had been holding ever since their last battle.

“You did it,” Coccinello whispered reassuringly into her ear.

“No, no,” she replied into his shoulder. “We did it.”

The sweet moment they shared lasted just a beat longer before a car door opened, and the heroes jumped away from each other to face this new threat.

While they had been fighting, they hadn’t realized the huge amount of police cars and news station vans that had parked themselves right beside the Trocadero. A massive news video camera was poking out of one of the vans. Kitty’s heart sank as she realized they must have filmed everything. There was no more evading the authorities.

Clara Contard and Officer Roger Raincomprix, the head sheriff, approached the heroes.

“We don’t know who you are, or where you came from.” Officer Raincomprix fixed them both with his most intense stare. Clara nudged him, raising an eyebrow. Roger sighed. “However, you did rid Paris of that monstrosity, and for that we are incredibly thankful.”

Coccinello opened his mouth to speak, but Kitty Noire stepped forward and addressed everyone present: Clara, Officer Roger, the news camera, and everyone else who had been watching from the cars. “I’m Kitty Noire,” she announced, and then gestured to her partner, “and this is Coccinello. These mysterious creatures aren’t going away, but we’ve figured out how to save the people that they’ve possessed.” She took the unconscious boy from Coccinello’s arms and handed him to Roger. “Here’s the child who was trapped inside. He’s alive.”

There was a long, silent moment, during which everyone processed what was said. Kitty Noire felt a warmth pooling in the depths of her stomach. She had been brave. She had followed her instincts. She was one of Paris’ new heroes. And now, everyone would know it.

Coccinello stepped forward and put a hand on Kitty’s closest shoulder.

Nadja Chamack was the first to recover from hearing this announcement. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the physical contact between the heroes. “So, where did you two come from? And have you known each other long?”

Kitty Noire recognized the look Nadja gave them; she had seen Alya give her that exact look when she had been talking with Adrien at the party. Kitty shifted so that Coccinello’s hand slipped off her shoulder, and he didn’t seem to notice — her discomfort or the predatory eyes of the reporter.

Kitty ignored the second question. “We can’t tell you that, unfortunately. Just know that we’re here to stay until we can track down what exactly is causing these monsters to appear,” she answered professionally, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Ooh, this cat has claws,” Nadja remarked, and Kitty glowered. “What about you, bug boy? How long have you two been so close?”

Coccinello smiled broadly, about to answer, when he glanced at his partner, finally noticing her closed-off expression. He switched gears. “Not long,” and he put on a dazzling grin, “but what I really want, is to let the citizens of Paris know that we’re here to defend them during this frightening time. You could say we’re your superheroes!”

Both Nadja and Clara’s excitement grew, and they were each about to open their mouths to ask more questions when Coccinello said, “It seems that’s all the time we have today, though. Until the next!” And he gave Kitty a smile to ease her nerves, winking as he casted his yo-yo out into the distance, grappling away out of reach of the newscasters.

Kitty smiled at him in return, thankful for his perceptiveness. She just saluted the camera and bounded off in the other direction.

Chapter Text

Kitty Noire called for her detransformation as her feet touched the ground behind the same wide tree she had transformed behind. Marinette peered around herself, checking for any witnesses. The campus in this area was mostly deserted, as classes were still in session.

As soon as she confirmed that no one was around, Marinette allowed herself to squeal loudly. “Oh! Plagg! We were amazing!” She jumped up and down and looked to her kwami with a contagious grin.

Plagg hovered in the space to her left and gave her a proud smile. “It was all you, Marinette. I just gave you the powers.” 

She put her hands out and cupped Plagg, pulling him against her cheek. “I know you’re being modest. Thank you for believing in me. I was at a pretty low point back there, when I took the ring off.” Marinette dropped her arms and Plagg settled on her shoulder. “But both your and Fu’s faith was so strong, it’s like you didn’t let me quit, even though I wanted to.”

Plagg leaned into Marinette’s neck without saying anything. She allowed herself to relax with him for a moment. She had done it. Her first success. And hopefully that meant many more to come.

Of course, they couldn’t stay like that forever. Marinette checked her phone for the time — there were still twenty-six minutes left of History of Modern Fashion, and Marinette had every intention to get a little more learning in before heading to her internship.

As she ran back up the stairs to get to her lecture hall, her brain ran circles around her. How soon would it be until the news aired? Until everyone knew about Coccinello and herself? Until they all felt safe with their heroes to protect them?

At the Parisian Design House, Mireille and Théo, the other college-age intern, let Marinette know the answers to her questions. She hardly had time to sign in before Mireille jumped on her.

“Marinette! You have to see this!” Mireille shoved her phone into Marinette’s face. Marinette had to blink a few times and push the phone away a little in order to see what was going on. But once she did, she couldn’t keep her heart from beating loudly in excitement. It was a recording from that afternoon; Coccinello spinning his yo-yo like a helicopter, keeping himself and Kitty Noire four stories in the air. Kitty Noire brandishing the strange-looking umbrella at the flaming dragon.

“Wow,” she breathed out in genuine amazement. They truly were a great team. So efficient.

“I know!” Mireille crooned. “Apparently the girl is named Kitty Noire. Isn’t that so chic? I wonder if she designed her own costume. She has some serious taste! And well, let’s not even talk about the guy,” Mireille fanned herself for dramatic effect. “What a hunk, huh?” She looked to Marinette for confirmation. Marinette froze up.

Coccinello, a hunk? Maybe. She hadn’t ever really considered it before. But Mireille had a point. He was tall, and broad… Marinette colored a little. “Um, I guess, I mean, I don’t really know, I—”

Théo cut in. “Oh, Mireille, leave her alone. Marinette’s been in the building for a total of two minutes and you’ve already broken her.”

Marinette just laughed. “It sure is exciting, though. Superheroes!” She hoped that would make her seem more like her normal self.

Mireille bubbled about it again and she and Théo devolved into a playful argument over which hero was better. Marinette suppressed a giggle and headed to Ronaldo’s office.

“Ah! Marinette! I need you to take a look at this hat. Tell me what it’s missing.” Ronaldo pushed away from his giant double-monitor computer space. On a screen was a 3D rendition of a bowler hat. Marinette spun the design about, examining it from all angles.

It was a fine hat, but a boring one. Carnation pink, peach taffeta, a bunch of pink feathers in the back. “You’re making a flamingo hat?” Marinette asked for clarification.

“Of course! What other birds are so pink?” he cried out in frustration.

Marinette looked back to the hat. “I think it’s fine. Flamingoes are flamboyant. Maybe you need the hat to do more.”

Ronaldo put his head in his hands, clearly despairing. Marinette backtracked. “What is it that you want the hat to do, then?”

Ronaldo wheeled his chair a little closer and pulled up a page on the other screen. It was an advertisement for a design competition that PDH was hosting. Anyone could submit to it — designers, interns, aspiring talents. Marinette’s heart raced. She hadn’t designed anything in so long. Should she enter? 

The theme was bowler hats, inspired by birds.

“You’re going to enter, right, chèrie?” Ronaldo asked her as she read the ad. Marinette wiggled her head, unsure.

“If I did, I couldn’t help you with your hat.”

Ronaldo pushed her away from the screen. “Then out with you! Go organize the fabric room! I’m making you enter the competition!” He stood up straighter in his chair to block her from looking at his flamingo hat any longer. Marinette laughed.

“Alright, thank you, Ronaldo. But what I said still stands. If you want to stick with the flamingo, it needs to be more flamboyant.” And Marinette left the room so that Ronaldo could relax.

As she organized the fabrics, she daydreamed of what bird she should pick to design a hat for. “Plagg,” she asked, shelving the box of #2116 electric blue in its proper place, “what do you think?”

Plagg poked his head out of her purse. “I’m not the creative one in this duo, Marinette. You tell me.”

She tapped a knuckle against her chin. “The problem is that bird hats are so cliche. If I made one, it would have to be of a bird that no one would ever make a hat for.”

She unlocked the door to the apartment and hardly had time to put her key away before Alya came flying out of their room. “Marinette, please tell me you’ve seen the news!”

She had almost forgotten in her preoccupation with the bowler hat. “I have!” she told her roommate. “At the PDH, an intern showed me. They sure are something else,” she said, hoping that was the right thing to say. What would she say about superheroes in Paris if she wasn’t one of them?

Alya couldn’t contain herself. She jumped between one foot and the other, crying, “Aren’t they?! Oh, I’m just about obsessed with their costumes! And look!” She pulled up the interview video, paused on the frame where Cocci had put his arm on Kitty Noire’s shoulder. “They’re sooo a thing! And probably the cutest couple in the world! I mean, me and Nino notwithstanding,” she winked.

But Marinette squirmed. Did people really think she and Coccinello were a couple? “Oh, I don’t know, Alya, how can you be so sure they’re together?”

Alya gave her roommate a look. “Girl, open your eyes! It’s clear from the fight that they’re really close and trust one another. Look at that grip he has on her waist! Swoon!” She scrubbed through the video to show Marinette the exact clips she was referencing, but Marinette didn’t need to see them. She could remember the way Coccinello had held her earlier that day. But he wasn’t doing it to be romantic; he just needed to get them both up in the air. Marinette was positive there was nothing between them; she would have been able to tell if there had been.

“Alya, they’re a superhero team. It’s all part of the job. They have to do stuff like that,” she answered confidently, moving into the bedroom.

Alya followed. “Maybe you’re a naysayer, Marinette, but my blog’s five hundred followers and I clearly see something you do not.”

Marinette spluttered, hanging her coat up in the closet. “Did you say blog?”

“Oh yeah! How could I have forgotten! I started a blog right after the video aired. I was just so excited I didn’t know what else to do! But it really blew up!” Alya grinned broadly and pulled up the webpage.
Sweat broke out on Marinette’s brow. It was called the Kittynello Blog. As in, Kitty Noire and Coccinello. Together. More than friends. “You… you dedicated a whole blog to a romance that isn’t even real?” She had to work to keep her voice from turning shrill.

“Relax,” Alya waved a hand at her. “It’s for more than that; it’s dedicated to updates regarding the new heroes. Basically anything concerning them you can expect to show up on my blog.” She straightened up proudly. “I plan to get on the scene to film them even before the news stations get there!”

Marinette relaxed a little. Was she proud of Alya? Absolutely. Was she worried about a lack of privacy in her alternate identity’s life? Absolutely.

She decided to put her worries aside for now, instead trying to focus on being a supportive friend. She smiled and opened her arms for a hug. “That’s amazing, Alya! How many followers did you say you had already?”

“Five hundred and counting!” Alya hugged Marinette tightly in return. “I’m so happy, because this will be the real deal for me! I can be a journalist on a topic that fascinates me without having to deal with executive nonsense! I can get my name out there as the Kittynello blogger!”

Marinette shook her head with a chuckle. “Are you sure the ship name isn’t Coccinoire?”

Alya gave her a serious look. “Kitty’s way more fabulous. She has to go first.”

Marinette laughed aloud, a real laugh this time. “Hm, there’s no denying that!”

The phone call Marinette had been waiting for arrived later that afternoon.

“Wow! You were right, Marinette! Those heroes are amazing!” her mother enthused on the other end.

Marinette could only chuckle, too relieved to speak.

“We’re glad you’re safe. We were so worried about our little girl,” her father added, his voice softening.

Marinette sighed. “I’m glad you think so. Now you know, everything is fine, but I’ll still be careful. I have monster alerts set up on my phone,” she elaborated, hoping that would make them even less worried.

Her mother grew excited. “Oh, I’ll add them too! That way I can watch the superhero fights in action! I’m going to become Kitty Noire’s number one fan!”

Something like concern twisted in Marinette’s stomach. Her mother, watching her closely? What if she accidentally said something, or used some mannerism, that could identify her to her parents? “Um, I’m not sure it’s the best idea. You don’t want to stress yourselves out, knowing every time there’s a monster.”

“It’s not stressful, we enjoy being caught up on what’s happening where you are,” she replied, no doubt meaning it to be endearing.

But Marinette grew more and more anxious. “Well, it’s not necessary. Please tell me you won’t.”

Neither of her parents spoke for a moment. Then her father asked, “Marinette, is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah. I just…” she looked at the textbook on her desk. “I just remembered I haven’t done any reading for History of Modern Fashion, and the exam is… super soon. I guess all the excitement about the heroes put it out of my head! Um, I should really get going, but it was great talking to you guys!” She tried to laugh at the end, to reassure them that nothing was amiss, but it came out tighter than she’d intended.

“Oh… kay. Well, keep in touch. We love you!”

“Love you too, bye!” Marinette almost threw her phone across her desk, desperately needing space from it.

“What was that about?” Plagg asked, and rightfully so. Marinette doubted he’d ever seen her act so strangely.

“I feel like they’re onto me, Plagg. Or if they aren’t yet, they will be. What if they watch Kitty Noire in battle and notice that, oh I don’t know… she walks just like I do? Don’t parents know all those super detailed things about you?”

Plagg cocked his head. “I don’t know. Kwamis don’t have parents. But nothing like that has happened before. I’m sure you’re fine,” he smiled.

But Marinette couldn’t share that smile. Maybe no other miracle stone wielder had ever had parents as obsessed with them as Marinette’s were.

In the next week, three more monsters appeared to plague Paris. Each time, Kitty Noire and Coccinello tried the same trick that had worked with the dragon; the unlucky charm. When the charm made contact with the monster, it discharged in a flash that allowed the heroes to vanquish it, rescuing the victim inside. The victim was always comatose and was immediately rushed to the hospital.

Kitty Noire grew more comfortable with Coccinello, and he with her. They began to make jokes during their fights, began to know what the others’ strategy would be, began making plans to hang out together after the battles. In short, they became friends, and that brought so much mirth to Kitty Noire’s busy, stressful life. She loved spending time with Coccinello because he always seemed calm, even during a fight. It allowed her to realize that stressful events happen, but it’s our choice whether or not to let them control us.

Of course, as the superheroes saved Paris more and more, so the Parisians loved them more and more. Kitty Noire and Coccinello became Paris’ most mysterious celebrities, and it was the mystery that made them all the more fascinating.

Seemingly overnight, calendars, posters, T-shirts, mugs, and a never-ending slew of other household items were available with the heroes plastered on the outside. Alya had bought the Coccinello calendar and hung it up in their room as soon as it was printed. Marinette couldn’t help but notice that the company who made the calendar chose particularly… risqué shots of Coccinello. 

When Marinette mentioned as much, Alya beamed. “I know right! He’s sooo sexy!”

She just exhaled. 

Of course, Alya was absolutely not helping. Her Kittynello Blog had exploded, trending as the first hit when the heroes names were searched on the internet. People from all over the world wrote messages to Alya everyday, thanking her for making such a comprehensive website. And also squealing over how cute they thought Kittynello was.

Soon enough, Parisians would mob to the location of a battle, just to see Kitty Noire and Coccinello live in action. They would wear their T-shirts, hold up their signs, and scream their lungs hoarse. Kitty Noire was great at filtering out sound, so it never bothered her. She was quite flattered by all of the adoring fans, even though she never would have admitted it as Marinette.

Coccinello announced to the crowd after every battle, “It is incredibly dangerous for you all to be here! Please, just watch the recordings from the safety of your homes!”

But Kitty Noire tossed her braid and told them, “Be there if you’d like to, I don’t mind. Just stay out of the splash zone,” and she winked to them, blew a kiss, and hopped away, leaving them screaming and crying in her wake. 

She tried her best to act a little differently than her normal self, especially when she knew she was on camera. She didn’t want to accidentally expose her identity somehow — to her parents, in particular. Her biggest fear was that someone might figure out her secret, and now, when her parents would call her, Marinette let it go to voicemail. She couldn’t bring herself to answer. What if the truth of her identity lay on the other end?

Since, in general, most things were going well in Marinette’s life — midterms were over for the time being, working at Sloppy Joe’s had been much more fun since Lila came on, and she was kicking major monster butt as her alter ago — she finally decided that she was no longer “too busy” for romance.

“Why the sudden change, Marinette? It’s been like, three weeks since the kickback. You were so determined to give up on Adrien then,” Alya pointed out to her when Marinette confided in her roommate.

It made her nerves twist. What could she say? She certainly was just as busy now as she had been when she had said those things, perhaps more so, but becoming a successful superhero had lifted a weight off her chest that made her feel like she could do anything. But she couldn’t tell Alya that. “The sudden change is the fact that I’m not as drained by Sloppy Joe’s as I used to be, and more importantly, I can’t stop thinking about Adrien. All I do in Chinese Mythology class is stare at the back of his head.” She put her face in her hands in shame. It sounded so much worse when said aloud.

Alya clenched her fists and her eyes glinted. “If you say you’re ready for love, I believe you. I’ve never been one to keep a girl from a man if that’s what she wants!” Alya put her arm around Marinette, making Marinette look up at her friend with a small smile. Marinette wasn’t sure she would describe her situation quite like that, but Alya wasn’t wrong. She did want to be with Adrien. He was just so sweet, so considerate. He had killer looks but he wasn’t full of himself. And he was really smart. He checked all the boxes, and without even trying, he had won Marinette’s heart simply by leaning close and talking to her at a party.

She blushed just at the remembrance. Alya giggled and Marinette came back to the present. “What should I do? Should I ask him out?”

“Totally. Go for coffee. That’s low-risk. And it also doesn’t make your feelings obvious. He might think you mean to go as friends, and then when he’s there, sitting across from you, learning all about you, he’ll realize friends is definitely not what he wants to be.” Alya’s eyes got dreamy and Marinette suppressed a giggle. Was that how it happened with her and Nino?

Marinette imagined it. Sitting in a cozy booth across from Adrien at a café. Getting lost in his lovely green eyes. “Hmm,” she hummed with pleasure. “Okay. Next time I see him, I’ll ask him!” She said it with determination, but inside herself she worried about tripping over her words again. Would she freeze up? Would she blabber at him? It was hard to know. 

The next day, in class, Marinette chose to take a seat in the first row, just two seats down from him. Not right next to him, but as close as she was willing to get. She hoped inside herself that he would understand her, that he would know from this action what her intentions were. That way he could be the one to say, “Marinette. Coffee?” and not the other way around. Because Marinette’s nerves were a jumbled mess.

Adrien noticed her new proximity. How could he not? There were only three students who regularly sat in the very front row. “Hey, Marinette. How are things going?”

She took a breath. Small talk. She could do that. “They’re going. It’s been nice lately,” she answered, sort of without thinking.

“Oh?” Adrien prompted, and Marinette stiffened. There was no way she could tell him why things had been nice lately, unless she planned on telling him she was Kitty Noire. But she also didn’t want to make something up.

“Yeah,” she replied, a little hurriedly, “it’s been really exciting with the new heroes. I’m a big fan.”

“Oh? Kitty Noire or Coccinello?” Adrien sat up straighter, leaned closer to Marinette.

Marinette reddened. It felt immodest to say Kitty, but at the same time, he might think she was one of those calendar-buying, rabid screaming fans if she said Coccinello. “Both!” she settled on. “They’re a really inspiring team!”

Adrien smiled one of his smiles that Marinette loved. It was soft, made his eyes crinkle in the corners a little. A smile that relaxed her, that made her bones turn into mush. “I think so, too.”

Professor Fu walked into the lecture hall and set up his things, cocking his head and smiling in surprise when he saw Marinette in the front row. She colored and gave him a small wave, hoping he wouldn’t ask about her motives.

Instead he came into their conversation. “It seems like the new heroes are all I hear about, no matter where I go.” He gave Marinette a knowing look and her heart started beating double time. If he kept that up, he was going to endanger her identity!

“They’re a hot topic,” she spluttered. 

“Why wouldn’t we be talking about them?” Adrien asked at the same time.

“Oh, no reason to get wound up,” Fu said, going back to set up his notes. “I just thought it was interesting. I, too, like them. They’re pretty miraculous.”

Marinette thought she saw Fu wink. Did he think he was being funny? Her eyes darted to Adrien. Was he catching on?

No, he seemed perfectly at ease. He was merely looking at Fu with confusion. She allowed herself to exhale. 

As soon as she had done so, it was time for class, and her heart sank. She hadn’t had a chance to ask Adrien out.

Back at home, Marinette designed and redesigned her bowler hat, trying to find the perfect look. The bird she decided on was a swan; pristine white, with a small hint of black and orange, and a long white feather on top, reminiscent of the neck. But no matter what she did, it didn’t want to come together right. She ripped pages out of her sketchbook, threw them on the floor. “Ugh! Now I know how Ronaldo was feeling!” she cried out.

Plagg emerged from the Cheese-Itz box. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been working on that hat for about two hours now.” Marinette looked at the clock, horrified to find out that he was right. A giant pile of balled-up plans laid at the foot of her desk.

“Oh no! I need to do the reading for History of Modern Fashion! How did you let me get so carried away,” she asked, bending to collect all of the papers.

“Me? I’m just the kwami,” Plagg followed her as she ran about the room, tidying up.

After a few moments, all the papers were recycled, and Marinette’s textbook was open on her desk, Plagg sitting on her lamp with a cracker. “Maybe something in there will give you inspiration for your swan hat.”

“I hope so. But I’m not counting on it.” She flipped the page, her eyes beginning to glaze over. How did textbook writers manage to make even the most interesting information so sleep-inducing?

Marinette read through half-closed eyes, the words passing right through her brain. Until she got to something that made her start, nearly flying out of her seat.

In a small section about the most influential designers in the past twenty years, right there, a name she hadn’t expected to see: Gabriel Agreste.

Agreste. That was Adrien’s last name. Could it be?

Marinette pulled out her laptop, plopped it right on top of her textbook. A quick search led to a wiki article. 

“Gabriel Agreste, French designer. Famous for establishing his own design house and for popularizing the akuma.” There was a photo of the man embedded in the article, along with a dress in the akuma style — a low back and pointy shoulders, like a butterfly’s wings. Marinette had seen the style before. It was quite popular at the Parisian Design House. 

The photo of Gabriel was more intriguing than the dress, though. The man looked intense — frown lines etched into his face, not a trace of warmth. It was such a drastic difference compared to Adrien’s perpetually-happy countenance. Maybe they weren’t related after all.

She kept reading. “Gabriel Agreste rose to fame around twenty-five years ago, after he debuted the akuma design. For about ten years he was very successful, one of the biggest names in fashion. He married the popular actress Emilie Graham de Vanily, who passed away thirteen years ago. After de Vanily died, Gabriel Agreste slowly stopped designing before altogether abandoning his career, moving to the countryside and removing himself from the public eye.”

Marinette gasped. How awful for him! She scrolled down the page further, looking for information on his family life. Did Gabriel Agreste have children?

“Agreste and de Vanily met at one of the Agreste House fashion shows. She offered to model the designs since she was so impressed by them. A year later, they were married. She continued to model for Agreste House along with their son, Adrien Agreste, until her death.”

Marinette couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. There he was. Her suspicions had been true. That was why Adrien knew about sewing, that was why he was so impressed when she told him she made her own clothes. Adrien knew fashion. Adrien had been a model!

She clicked on his name, and it redirected her to a wiki page all his own. Did Adrien know he had a wiki page? Marinette scrolled hungrily, but she didn’t find much information she hadn’t already learned from his father’s page. Nothing on the wiki had been updated since Adrien’s childhood. There was nothing about modeling into his teens or twenties, there was nothing about the university he was currently attending. But the many adorable photos made up for that.

Marinette examined the pictures of Adrien modeling his father’s designs. He couldn’t have been older than eight or ten, and Marinette’s eyes turned into hearts. “He’s so adorable, Plagg! Look at him!” She showed the photos of baby Adrien to her kwami, but he just laughed at her.

“All humans look like that to me,” he told her. “You’re babies in comparison to my centuries of life.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, her mind too excited for jokes. She was making life-changing discoveries about her crush!

She closed Adrien’s page and snooped around some more, clicking on the link to his mother’s page. There were many photos there, as well; stills of Emilie in her more prominent films, in addition to her modeling pictures. It took Marinette’s breath away to see just how much Adrien looked like his mother. Everything Marinette loved about Adrien was there in Emilie’s face: the softness of the eyes, the disarming smile, the golden hair. She was so lovely, and she had died so young.

“Emilie Agreste passed away thirteen years ago in a car accident, leaving the last film she featured in, Solitude, unfinished,” Marinette read silently to herself. Thirteen years ago. How old had Adrien been then? Seven? Eight? It made Marinette’s stomach churn. Did he still think about her? Did he miss her dreadfully, or had time done its duty putting space between the events and his feelings?

She sat back in her chair, brow furrowed. The questions itched at her, begged for the answers only he could give. Marinette felt, now more than ever, that she had to make her feelings known. Adrien was so sweet. She hated the idea of him, all alone in his apartment, missing Emilie more than anything. She wanted to be there to talk with him, to comfort him, to make him smile again, to wrap her arms around him and just hold him when life got too heavy for him to hold himself up.

Marinette sighed. The only way to make that happen was to bear her heart and tell him how she felt. She let her mind wander to the corridor outside their classroom, or to the hallway by Professor Fu’s office. She imagined them standing there together, Adrien giving her his winning grin again, and Marinette opening her mouth, letting those words spill out, hearing them in her own ears as if through a filter. “Adrien, there’s something I need to tell you.” His expression would open in curiosity, and she would blush, continuing, “I really like you. Let’s get coffee? Or something else? As long as it’s with you, I don’t care where we go.” And Adrien’s eyes would widen, and he would put his hand on her shoulder, lean closer, and —

“Nghhh,” Marinette grumbled, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment. If only it really were that easy.

In the middle of the night, Marinette jolted awake, her head spinning, in a cold pool of her own sweat. She threw the blanket off of herself, gasping, trying to return to reality from the nightmare that had plagued her. Images of a limousine driving away from a movie premier, smashed to pieces, a blonde head hanging out the side…

She shook her head, breathing labored. Although she couldn’t see, Plagg was suddenly there at her side. “Are you alright?”

“Nightmare.” As she said it, she tried to calm herself down, tried to settle back into bed. She had a big day tomorrow. She needed her sleep. 

But sleep evaded her, and as Marinette laid in her bed, wide awake, her imagination running amok, she realized that the last thing she was going to successfully achieve was sleep, especially in her current state.

She launched herself out of bed as quietly as possible, creeping out of the bedroom, trying not to wake Alya. When she got into the living room, the moonlight streaming through the blinds gave her inspiration for the perfect way to clear her head. 

“Plagg, transform me,” she whispered, and her pajamas vanished, replaced by the Kitty Noire suit she was beginning to love so well. She left the apartment, lithe as a cat, and launched herself into the night, searching for the most comforting, well-lit landmark in Paris.

As she hopped from roof to roof, her eyes settled on it — there, the Eiffel Tower. All lit up like a Christmas tree at the holidays. She’d head there, relax a bit, allow the crisp air to clear her head, and then she’d come right back.

Of course, Kitty Noire’s plans to relax didn’t quite go as planned. When she got to the Tower, she found another superhero already occupying her spot. 

“Cocci?” she asked in surprise. “What are you doing out so late?”

Coccinello’s features morphed from a bored line into a wide grin. “What are you talking about, Kitty Cat?” he joked, calling her by the nickname he had given her a few battles before. “It’s only just midnight! The night is still young!”

Kitty Noire landed right next to him, taking a seat at his side. She rolled her eyes at the nickname. “Should I start calling you Bug Boy?” she teased, booping his nose with a clawed finger for emphasis.

Coccinello leered playfully, cocking an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind…”

Kitty Noire laughed. “You’re so silly.”

The friends sat for a moment, simply looking out at the beautiful city spread before them, even more splendid from their high vantage point. Coccinello seemed to know what Kitty Noire was thinking, because he echoed her thoughts, “Isn’t Paris beautiful? I’m so grateful, every time I come out to keep watch, that I get to live in such an amazing city, and that I’m lucky enough to be able to appreciate it like this.” 

Kitty Noire smiled to herself. He was right. There were only two people in Paris who could do this, and they were both taking advantage of it right at that moment. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like had I not moved here,” she told him, and as she said it, she realized she had never voiced it aloud to anyone, not even Plagg. Not even Alya. “Had I stayed in my hometown, I mean. I think I might have been an entirely different person.” She wouldn’t have gotten her internship, she wouldn’t have become Kitty Noire.

She looked over at Coccinello to find his eyes already on hers. His big, open eyes she loved, the ones that were like mirrors, reflecting his innermost thoughts. She gazed into them and found that he agreed with her, that he was also grateful that she had come to Paris.

Kitty Noire’s eyebrow raised. Was she interpreting that right? 

She glanced back at him, but he ducked his head, hiding his eyes from her once more. Kitty Noire felt guilty for being so invasive, but she couldn’t help it if his eyes betrayed him. Still, she should say something. “I’m glad I moved here, too.”

Coccinello’s cheeks were a bit pink when he looked back at her, his expression bashful. Kitty regarded him again, and there was a small silent moment, both wondering if the other would speak first.

Suddenly, both heroes broke out in giggles. Kitty Noire had to hold onto the steel beams of the monument to keep herself from falling. Coccinello’s blush vanished, replaced with the glow of laughter. It was a very becoming look on him, and as he wiped small tears out of his eyes, he said, “How do you do that so well?”

Kitty Noire elbowed him teasingly. “You’re an open book, Coccinello.”

He joined in the banter. “Let’s hope I’m an exciting one. An adventure story? Maybe a swashbuckler or a crime novel? What about a fairy tale?” He leaned close to her again, his playful look back on his face. “Or perhaps a romance?”

Kitty Noire pushed his face away from hers, but not without chuckling. “Oh, you,” she sighed, shaking her head. Her heart felt light from the fun discussion, the kind of mischief only Coccinello could bring to her life. And with that came the realization that she had successfully cleared her head, had recovered from her nightmare, and it was time to go back to bed.

She stood, pulling out her baton. “See you around, Cocci,” she saluted, extending her weapon to vault herself home.

“Have a good night, Kitty Cat,” he called, winking as she launched herself into the darkness.

Kitty Noire smiled to herself in amusement. That bug always knew how to make her forget what was troubling her.

Chapter Text

Marinette awoke the next morning with her stomach in a knot, short of breath. She was actually going to confess to Adrien today. She rolled over, looked at the clock on her phone. 08:43. In about an hour, Adrien would know how she felt about him. But hopefully — and this was the part that had her jittering — hopefully, that also meant that in an hour, she would be Adrien Agreste’s girlfriend.

She dressed, ate, and brushed her teeth in a daze, and when Alya woke up about twenty minutes later, she stopped Marinette in her zombie tracks. “Hey, everything alright?”

Marinette looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, physically unable to keep her brows from contracting into a worried line. “I’m gonna tell Adrien, Alya. I’m not just going to ask him on a coffee date. I’m going to confess.”

Alya’s eyes bugged out of her head. “You’re kidding,” she breathed in disbelief.

But Marinette just shook her head solemnly, bending over to rinse and spit.

“Wow. What made you decide to go all in?” she asked, reaching over Marinette to grab her own toothbrush. 

Marinette wiped her face on her towel and hung her head. “His mom died.”

Alya choked on her toothpaste. “What? When?!”

“Thirteen years ago.”

Alya gave Marinette a look. “And that’s why you’ve decided to confess?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, sitting alone in his apartment, missing her to pieces. It made me want to be there for him.”

Alya brushed her teeth silently for a little while. When she finished, she turned to her friend. “Marinette. Adrien practically lives at Nino’s. You don’t have to worry about him. And I’m sure he does miss his mother, anyone would. But it’s been over a decade since she passed. I hate to suggest this, but… don’t you think he’s over it by now? He doesn’t need you to swoop in to play the hero or something.”

Marinette’s face scrunched at that last bit. She wasn’t playing hero. Was she? “I just felt something when I learned about his mother. It made me want to reach out.”

Alya moved into the closet. “Then reach out, but you don’t have to admit your feelings if you aren’t ready just because you discovered something about his past.”

Marinette’s shoulders fell. Alya had a point. She had keyed herself up for nothing. “I mean, you’re totally right. But I want someone to love, Alya. And if Adrien is the someone I want, why should I wait?”

Alya responded over the sounds of her rummaging in drawers. “Then go for it, girl! All I meant was that I didn’t want you to feel pressured to do something that made you uncomfortable just because you felt badly for him.” 

“Thanks,” she answered, letting herself smile. Maybe Plagg really had been onto something. It was clear to Marinette, at this moment, how silly she had been when she had suggested to him that all Alya wanted was to “spice her life up.” Alya just wanted Marinette to be happy.

It made some of her nerves relax. Things would be okay, no matter how her confession went today.

For once, Marinette was early to Chinese Mythology, and Adrien wasn’t. She waited for him, her knee jiggling, hoping both that he would arrive and that he would miss class altogether so that she wouldn’t have to go through with this.

She almost started chewing her nails, a habit she had broken in middle school, when he walked through the lecture hall door, his expression blank. Marinette’s stomach flipped. Was he okay?

He took his seat one away from her, gave her a weak wave to say hello, and pulled his materials out for class. Marinette’s gaze fell into her lap. Could she do this now? With him so sad?

The brave part of her, the part that reminded her that she was Kitty Noire, yelled that of course she could! The perfect opportunity to cheer him up!

So, before she could stop herself, she cleared her throat and turned to him. “Hey, Adrien…”

He looked at her, his eyes open but reserved. “Mm-hm?”

“There’s… something… something I need to tell you,” she squeezed out.

His eyes immediately cleared, his expression opened, his lips parted in wonder. “What is it?”

All Marinette could hear was her heart hammering in her ears. She could feel it pulsing in her chest, in her palms, in her fingertips and toes. It made her dizzy. Oh God. She was doing this. “It’s just that I…”

Fortunately for Marinette, that was when Professor Fu came into class to start the lesson. “Never mind,” she told Adrien as the professor began his lecture, “I’ll just tell you later.”

Adrien’s face fell in disappointment, but he nodded.

Suffice it to say, it was the most anxious class period Marinette had ever endured.

By the time class was over, Marinette had decided that she would simply miss the beginning of History of Modern Fashion in order to confess to Adrien. She had been determined that it would happen today, and it would happen today!

He had finished packing up faster than her, and had already left the classroom by the time Marinette’s things were in order. She ran out of the lecture hall, casting about in the hallway, trying to see if she could still catch him. She searched among the throng of bustling students, trying to find — there! Adrien was just turning the corner. 

She sprinted down the hall, shoved through the rush of students around her, racing to catch up to him, thinking of nothing else but telling him exactly what she had been rehearsing to herself all through class.

Marinette turned the corner, pushed open the door, and found him standing by the adjacent lecture hall. Her heart soared until her eyes landed on something — or someone — else, and everything seemed to stop, then start back up in slow motion.

Adrien was with Chloé. She was hanging on his arm, looking up into his face with adoration. Adrien was laughing at something she was saying, a big laugh, one that threw his head back because it couldn’t be contained. They walked together toward the sandwich shop, arm in arm, without a care in the world.

Marinette’s heart sank all the way into her shoes. Suddenly, all the energy that had invigorated her, that had been pumping in her bloodstream, giving her the confidence to bear her feelings, was sapped, leaving her drained. She could hardly stay standing in the doorway.

He had a girlfriend. This entire time. Chloé was the girl he loved, the girl he wanted. And why shouldn’t she be? She was beautiful, the daughter of the mayor, someone much more on par with the son of a designer. Adrien had been a model, for Christ’s sakes! Why would he have ever looked at Marinette like that? Why did she ever allow herself to think that he had been looking at her like that?

Everything: the party at Nino’s, the conversation in the hallway, the discussion about the new heroes, all of those things had happened to Marinette while Adrien was dating a beautiful girl.

Without watching where she was going, Marinette ran. She couldn’t bear to sit through a whole class period while her head was spinning so violently. She collapsed on a patch of grass and bawled into her hands, holding nothing back, allowing all her pent up feelings to release themselves right here, right at this moment. Allowing herself to feel the pain that was ripping her apart. 

Adrien was not hers, and never would be.

He was Chloé’s boyfriend. The girl who had made her life a living hell last year. Who had stolen clothes she’d designed, then worn them to important parties claiming them as her own work. Who’d landed an internship with an even more prestigious design house than the PDH.

All of Marinette’s best efforts, down the drain.

Of course a girl like her would be the one to get to Adrien first.

Plagg phased out of Marinette’s purse after a few minutes, after everyone had gotten to their classes and campus was mostly empty.

“Marinette,” he said piteously, floating up to land on her shoulder, trying to comfort his wielder’s heartbreak.

“Plagg, I’m such an idiot,” she shouted the last word, but it was muffled in her hands. “What was I thinking?”

Plagg said nothing for a moment. “You weren’t. You were following your heart.”

“Well, I wish I hadn’t. My heart doesn’t know shit,” she mumbled through her tears.

Plagg whined in sorrow. “Don’t say that, Marinette! You always have to follow your heart, even if it leads you astray. All great heroes follow their hearts. The ones who stop are the ones who go bad, the ones who become villains.”

Marinette didn’t answer, just wiped her face and looked at her kwami. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her skin was glossy with the tears that she had smeared over her cheeks.

“I know you cared for Adrien. But the situation could have been much worse. Imagine how embarrassing it would have been for the both of you, had you gone through with your declaration. At least this way, he doesn’t know how you felt, and you can continue to interact with him with the knowledge that your secret is safe,” Plagg told her, his logic flawless. It was fortunate, indeed. 

She colored in humiliation just imagining it. “Oh, God. You’re right.” She picked at the grass underneath her. “But that doesn’t change things. I’m still angry at myself for getting my hopes up. Now what? I was so ready for love, to finally give it a try after years of focusing only on my schoolwork and my job. It’s so disappointing.” Her shoulders fell and she flopped onto her back on the grass.

Plagg laid beside her, his head level with her ear. “There were those other two guys at the party. The ones Alya thought you’d like.”

Marinette dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand. “I didn’t care about any of them. And it’s stupid now. My heart wants Adrien. I just have to deal with that until my heart stops wanting Adrien, and then I can give someone else a try.”

Plagg didn’t say anything to that for a long while, just watched the clouds roll over the blue sky along with his wielder. “When do you think that will be?” he finally asked.

Marinette gave no answer, which surprised Plagg. He got up from his spot on the grass to look into her eyes, and found silent tears rolling down her cheeks. At last, she put her hands over her face, and said, “I don’t know,” the words breaking as she began her crying anew.

In spite of Marinette’s feelings, duty called about three hours later. A new monster was spotted near the Louvre museum. Marinette was walking to the Parisian Design House when someone nearby gasped at their phone and shouted to their friends. Marinette ducked into an alley and opened her purse. “Plagg, we have a situation.”

“Will you be able to take care of this in your state?”

“I’m gonna have to,” she told her kwami reluctantly. She called for her transformation with as much excitement as she could muster before vaulting out of the alley and flying to the museum.

When she landed in front of the Louvre, Coccinello was already there. Kitty Noire couldn’t help but be annoyed as she scoped out the monster. Couldn’t it have picked another time to attack Paris? When she was in less of an emotional turmoil?

“Boy am I glad to see you, Kitty Cat,” Coccinello smiled when she arrived beside him. 

“The feeling is mutual,” she answered, her focus on the monster. She wanted to defeat it as quickly as possible. She didn’t have the patience for this right now.

Coccinello noticed her lack of spunk. “You okay?”

“Dandy. Where do you think the victim is?” Kitty Noire curbed her partner.

Coccinello frowned but didn’t address her mood again. He turned back to the monster. It was a large robotic spider; they could tell by the way it clunked along the street, spraying webs out of its mouth and tying up civilians. “My bet is the body,” he said.

Kitty shook her head. “I don’t think so. Usually the victim is in the head.”

“Usually,” Coccinello emphasized. “But the head is quite small for a monster of this size. I’m staying with the body.”

Kitty Noire shrugged. “Alright, cool. Let’s aim for the body then.”

Coccinello called for his lucky charm and Kitty prepped her cataclysm. They raced toward the beast without speaking; by now they were so well coordinated, so experienced in defeating monsters of this type, that they knew what to do without having to strategize. That was one of the reasons why Kitty Noire was so frustrated. Defeating a monster like this was nothing more than a tedious chore, a waste of her time and energy.

Within minutes, the monster was defeated and the person rescued. This one was a young girl, maybe twelve years old, and once she was on the ambulance stretcher, Kitty Noire extended her baton and left the scene, completely ignoring all the fans, not even excusing herself from the reporters. Coccinello watched her go, speechless.

“I’m sorry, Nadja. Kitty Noire is just a little tired after the battle. We’ll talk next time!” and he yo-yoed after her, mind reeling at her rudeness, concern for her beginning to bubble up in his stomach.

“Kitty! Wait!” he called, finally landing on the roof in front of her and cutting off her escape route. “What was all that about? You’re not yourself this afternoon.”

Kitty Noire looked up into the cloudy sky to avoid meeting Coccinello’s gaze. What could she say? “I’ve just had my heart shattered into a million pieces”? No thank you.

“Look. It’s been… a rough day,” was all she could muster. She put her hand back on her baton, moving to leave, when Coccinello put his hand on hers to stop it.

She looked up at him defensively, trying to frighten him into leaving her alone. But Coccinello didn’t budge. “Kitty, I’m your friend. You can talk to me.”

Kitty Noire’s shoulders fell. Her heart rate began to slow and she steadied her breathing. Coccinello was right. He was her friend. If there was anyone in the world she could talk to, it was him. “Do you ever feel like you set yourself up for failure?”

Coccinello hesitated. “What do you mean?”

Kitty turned away, leaving her back to Coccinello. “Do you ever get your hopes up for something, and then you get disappointed, and there’s no one to blame but yourself?” she asked softly.

Coccinello regarded her back, pity swimming in his eyes. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, and then pulled it away. “I’m not sure,” he finally answered. “I rarely get my hopes up for anything, because I always get disappointed if I do.”

Kitty turned suddenly to look at her friend. Coccinello had never said anything like that before. She knew him as her fearless partner, never stressed, always confident; the optimist to her pessimist. But this?

For a moment, she forgot about Adrien. Was Coccinello alright? “What happened, Cocci?”

He shook his head, his blue gaze dropping to his feet. After a moment, he peeked back up at her through his hair. “Nothing happened. At least, not yet. But I have a feeling that the next time I do put myself out there, it won’t end well.”

Kitty’s ears drooped. Was Coccinello heartbroken too? “Is it… about love?” she asked.

Coccinello colored a little and his eyes snapped to meet hers. He stared at her for many beats, and Kitty’s eyes widened when she found that she was right. “Did she hurt you?” she asked her friend, but it was so quiet, it was like a breath.

Coccinello laughed without humor. “Not yet. But she will.” He straightened up, gripped his yo-yo with resolve, and bid farewell to Kitty before leaving. She watched him go and wondered incredulously at how Coccinello could make her forget all about Adrien in her concern for him, at how he had managed to turn the tables on her so easily. She was supposed to be the one running away without explaining anything, not the other way around.

Clocking into work at Sloppy Joe’s was the last thing Marinette wanted to do that evening. What she really wanted was to crawl into a hole and never come out; at least not in the near future, while her heart was still hurting and her brain was still spinning over everything that had happened that day. 

She put her cap on, Plagg underneath, and headed out onto the floor, willing her best fake smile to stick onto her face.

Lila noticed Marinette’s low demeanor and pulled her aside. “Are you okay?”

Marinette nodded, and then shook her head, her eyes tearing up again. Lila gasped and put her arms around Marinette, letting her cry into her shoulder. “Oh, Lila. It’s the worst! It turns out he has a girlfriend!” she cried, unable to keep it in any longer.

Marinette hadn’t confided in Lila, so she had no idea who Marinette was talking about. But she was a girl who knew enough about life to guess. “Oh no! Well he’s a dirty rotten scoundrel for lying to you and leading you on like that! Do you want to go to the bar after work and talk about it? Wind down a bit?”

Marinette just nodded, slumped over into her friend’s shoulder. “That would be lovely.”

Lila clicked her tongue. “Poor Marinette. You deserve better,” and she hugged her tightly, giving her a few pats on the back to let her know that she wasn’t alone in this hard world. 

Marinette let go after a minute, wiped her face for the fifth time that day, and nodded. Adrien or no Adrien, there were customers to serve.

Jacques Grimault, bartender at the Jacques-à-dit Bar, noticed Marinette’s glum looks and sashayed over to where she and Lila had just sat down.

“You ladies look like you could use a pick-me-up,” he commented to them.

“Something strong, please,” Marinette answered, holding out her card to put the drink on her tab. Lila put her hand on top of Marinette’s to stop her, handing her own card to Jacques instead.

“It’s on me. I’m the one who invited you out.”

“Thanks, Lila. It means a lot.”

Jacques left to get their drinks, and Lila asked Marinette to start from the beginning about her heartbreak, and Marinette did, of course leaving out anything that could endanger her secret identity.

“That sounds awful, Marinette! It really seemed like he was giving you all the signs! And the fact that he’s with Chloé Bourgeois — the worst! That girl is insufferable!”

“I know! How could someone as sweet as Adrien want to be with someone as bratty and rude as her?” 

Jacques set the drinks down in front of the friends and Marinette didn’t hesitate before downing hers. The alcohol made her chest feel warm and fuzzy, and she took a deep breath to settle herself, allowing the drink to relax her. Slowly, the stress of the day began to fade, and Marinette found she didn’t want to linger on Adrien anymore. She wanted to forget all about him. She wanted her mind to stop jumping back to that conversation with Coccinello, too. She wanted to stop wondering who the awful girl was.

She shook her head to clear it, forcing herself to move on. “Oh, enough about me and my sob story. Let’s talk about something more interesting,” and with that, she turned to Lila with a smile.

Lila told Marinette about herself — about where she grew up, about her childhood, and Marinette did the same. Lila was delighted to learn that Marinette’s family were bakers, that they owned their own bakery in the south of France. “Did you learn to bake, too?” 

Marinette giggled, three empty cocktail glasses at her side. In her carefree state, she failed to notice Lila’s singular glass, half of her drink still sitting untouched. “Of course I did. I worked for them all through high school,” she answered cheerily.

Lila’s eyes swam with hearts. “Can you bake something for me? Like some croissants or macarons?”

“Sure, anything you’d like,” Marinette bubbled, her head feeling light and happy. She put her arm on the bar and used it to prop her head up.

Lila clasped her fingers together and hopped in her seat. “Oh, thank you! That would be amazing!”

The two girls laughed and talked some more, and Marinette was at peace. It was the exact thing she needed to get her mind off Adrien. Was she still heartbroken? Of course. But the throbbing pain in her chest was beginning to let up. She didn’t need love in her life. She just needed good friends who made her happy. And luckily enough, she had one right here.

As the girls left the bar and walked down the street, Lila noticed that Marinette was wearing a ring. “Is that new? I don’t remember you wearing it before,” she remarked, and Marinette, in her haze, realized that, indeed, the day Lila had started at Sloppy Joe’s was the day Marinette had taken her miracle stone off.

“No, it’s pretty old. But I started wearing it again recently. It was a gift from a very important friend of mine,” she answered, admiring it on her finger.

“Well, it’s very nice,” Lila smiled, continuing to look at it. In fact, her eyes flicked back to look at it so often, alarm bells went off in Marinette’s head, despite her somewhat intoxicated state. Was Lila suspicious of Marinette? Did she know what it really was?

Marinette grew nervous, and she put her hands in her pockets to put a stop to Lila’s weird behavior.

However, everything went back to normal when they parted at Marinette’s apartment building, so much so that Marinette wondered if she was just imagining things.

As Marinette climbed the stairs to her door, Plagg poked his head out of her clutch. “I’m glad you had a nice time tonight.”

Marinette grinned, looking out at the street, seeing Lila’s figure getting smaller and smaller. “Me, too.”

Marinette’s buoyant smile faded as she put the key in the lock, realizing too late that Alya was going to ask her how things went, and she was going to have to talk about her broken heart all over again. 

Happily for her, Alya was not waiting in the living room to ambush her for details. Juleka and Mylène sat at the dinner table chatting lightly. “Hi, Marinette!” Mylène called as Marinette closed the door behind herself. She waved at them with a fake smile and braced herself for the slew of questions that had to be waiting behind her bedroom door.

Alya, however, had no intention to grill her friend, and when she laid eyes on the disappointed expression stuck on Marinette’s features, she stood up from her desk and simply embraced her. Marinette wrapped her arms around Alya’s back and just stood there, neither of them speaking.

Alya rubbed Marinette’s back in soothing circles, pulling her towards their beds and letting her take a seat. Marinette sighed, her hands falling into her lap. 

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” Alya offered, but Marinette was shaking her head before the words had finished coming out of Alya’s mouth.

“Of course I do. You were the one who told me not to do it. I should have listened.”

Alya squirmed, her face falling. That hadn’t been why she had dissuaded her friend.

Marinette continued. “But whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong. Adrien didn’t reject me, at least not with his words. His actions let me know enough, though.” Marinette looked up to meet her roommate’s quizzical hazel eyes, and she took a breath. “Adrien has a girlfriend. And it’s Chloé, of all people.” Marinette slumped over on her bed as she said it. The words tasted awful on her tongue.

Alya’s eyebrows flew all the way to her hairline. “What? How do you know?”

“I saw them, Alya. Cuddling up after class. Yuck,” Marinette replied, emotionless.

Alya sputtered for a moment, her brain trying to wrap around the news. “But — But, Nino never mentioned, and… I just don’t understand. Chloé? With someone like Adrien?”

Marinette threw her arms up in the air. “Well, maybe it’s a relatively new development. And why not? They’re both gorgeous. It makes perfect sense.” 

But Alya shook her head. “No way! FYI, I don’t think either of them are gorgeous. I see a brat who can’t respect personal property, and I see a nice guy, perfect for my best friend. How can —”

“Oh, stop!” Marinette cried out from under her pillow. “He’s clearly not perfect for your best friend because he’s in love with someone else…!” Marinette grumbled in frustration, and Alya’s face shifted into one of sorrow. 

“I’m sorry. This is… just a terrible situation, and I can’t understand it. But I wasn’t there today, I didn’t see it. I’m sure you know what you saw.” Alya stood off her own bed and sat at the foot of Marinette’s, running her hand along her friend’s calf, trying to comfort her after her misinterpretation of Marinette’s emotions.

Marinette just laid there for many minutes, and Alya thought she could hear small cries coming from beneath the pillow. She hung her head, at a loss. Marinette was the strongest person Alya knew. To see her so low, it was like witnessing the falling of a great tree, one whose broad branches you had always counted on to shade you from the merciless sun.

The girls stayed there, saying nothing, for a long, long time. Eventually, Marinette pulled the pillow off her face and looked up at the friend at the foot of her bed. “Help me get over him,” she pleaded, and her expression was so pitiful, Alya would have done anything she may have asked at that moment.

So Alya clenched her fists and shouted, “I’m so pissed! How dare he! How dare he just talk to you, and flirt with you, and trick all of us at that party that he was digging you while, in fact, he was digging Chloé! What a snake! What an ass!” And Alya stood off the bed, marching around their room as she trash-talked Adrien.

Marinette’s smile slowly returned, and as Alya continued giving Adrien more bad names, and coming up with wild ways to exact revenge, Marinette finally giggled and jumped up to join her, and they shouted at one another all the mean things they could think of, the nicknames and the punishments getting more outlandish the longer they went on. When it was over, Marinette’s sides hurt with her laughter, and Alya was hugging her, and as they stood there in the center of the room, holding onto one another, Marinette allowed her heart to open up. Alya was an amazing best friend.

Of course, the girls never exacted any revenge on Adrien. They let him continue on, living his normal Chloé-loving life, but Marinette took strength from her shouting session with Alya. Adrien had misled her, and she was hurt. That was what she focused on. He had hurt her, and she didn’t need someone like that in her life. She didn’t need to waste her time caring about someone who was obviously so careless. If she was going to love someone, it would be someone who deserved it. Who didn’t play around with her while their heart belonged to another. She told herself that again and again whenever she found her gaze settling on the back of Adrien’s head in Chinese Mythology class. She didn’t need him, she shouldn’t need him. That was why she had returned to her usual place in the back row.

As she sorted out her feelings toward one blond boy, her apprehension toward the other grew. She hadn’t seen Coccinello since they had fought the spider monster, and she couldn’t stop the thoughts ruminating over his well-being from randomly intruding upon her concentration. It made her desperate for closure, so she doubled the amount of patrols she went on, just hoping to run into him.

An afternoon a handful of days after the heartbreak, Kitty Noire was out scouting by the Arc de Triomphe, watching for anything strange, trying to discern signs of a monster attack, when Coccinello joined her, as he occasionally did.

Her heart soared. Her opportunity was here!

But something in his eyes made her hope dry up.

Kitty looked up at him to say hello, but Coccinello’s cheeks flushed, his eyes immediately diving to the floor. Kitty Noire’s eyebrows knitted together. Was he still not doing well?

“Everything alright?” she inquired, leaning toward her friend.

Coccinello ran a nervous hand through his already messy blond mop. “Yeah.”

She continued to regard him, almost daring his eyes to meet hers once more, just so she could see what he was attempting to hide behind them. Had the things he had predicted come to pass? Had the girl he loved let him down? She tried to learn the answers from his open eyes, but memories of her previous nosiness flooded Kitty’s brain, so she looked away, into the distance, giving him his privacy.

The wind was blowing more fiercely now than it had all month, and Kitty Noire was thankful for her magical suit, as it protected her from feeling the wind chill. Her braid tossed in the breeze and Kitty held it to herself, wishing that her suit could also protect her from the chill in her heart. What if Coccinello never became his regular, cheerful self again? Kitty didn’t think she could bear that.

While lost in her thoughts, Kitty Noire didn’t notice Coccinello clench his fists and take a few measured breaths. He gazed at her back, expression conflicted. Finally he took a few steps closer to her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and spoke. “Kitty. I… was wondering.”

Kitty Noire turned to examine her partner, her big green cat eyes wide with renewed hope. Was he finally going to confide in her? “What’s on your mind?” she prompted, after Coccinello hadn’t said anything for a few moments.

He exhaled and his tense shoulders dropped. He neutralized his expression, and when he turned back to look at her, he asked, “In your civilian life, you wouldn’t happen to have a special someone, would you, Kitty Cat?”

Coccinello’s sky blue eyes chose that moment to pierce right into hers, and Kitty would have stumbled backwards had Coccinello’s steadying hand not been on her shoulder. Her mind jumped to thoughts of Adrien and her gaze fell to her feet, her ears drooping slightly. “No, I don’t…” she answered, her unexpected pain preventing her from realizing why exactly her partner had decided to ask her this question. 

“In that case, I wanted to know,” he smiled, his tone more confident, his hand moving from her shoulder to the bottom of her chin, tilting her eyes to meet his again, his other hand pushing his hair out of his face, “if there was room in your life for a particular bug.”

Kitty Noire was confused for just a moment, about to reply, about to say, “but you’re already in my life, Coccinello” when his face opened up and his expression shifted into one of complete seriousness, all playfulness gone. And the burning look he gave her made the breath rush out of her lungs, and suddenly her head felt light, as if she were hanging upside down, the blood cascading up into her brain, echoing in her ears.

Was she the girl Coccinello had been speaking of that day? The one he was so sure would reject him? All this time… her partner, in love with her?

His hand travelled down her arm, his fingers trailing the neon seams of her otherwise midnight suit, stopping when they brushed her clawed fingertips. They lingered against her palm, playfully slipped in and out from between her own fingers. It messed with Kitty’s concentration, it made a shiver involuntarily run down her spine. Coccinello’s eyes sure were something, and the way he held her — strongly with one hand, and gently with the other — made her focus blow a fuse. 

How did she feel in return? 

Just last week she had been so determined to confess her feelings for Adrien, but now, standing in front of Coccinello’s broad frame, the wind tossing his hair in and out of his mirror eyes, with his hands on her and his gaze telling her just what it was he wanted… Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure it had been Adrien she had the feelings for after all. Perhaps it was another blond man, one who knew her so well, one who understood her in a way no one else did. Perhaps…

All at once, the logical part of Kitty Noire’s brain caught up with what was happening. Her hand fell out of his grip, her gaze dropped to their feet, breaking the spell he had put her under. What was she thinking? Be with Coccinello? He was her hero partner. That wasn’t how they were supposed to do things, regardless of his feelings.

But that was just it. His feelings absolutely mattered, and Kitty couldn’t stop her thoughts from returning to that day. How easily her concern for Coccinello had completely eclipsed her sadness over Adrien. She imagined herself with Adrien, back in that hallway again, and her heart leaped. But then she changed the scene, allowed herself to imagine it a way she had never allowed herself to before: instead of Adrien, Coccinello was the one standing there, holding her, leaning down and making her heart race. It made her ask herself questions she had never dared to ask. What did Adrien have that Coccinello did not? How much did she truly care about Adrien as a person, in comparison to how much she cared for Coccinello?

It grew in Kitty Noire’s head, overwhelming her — all the evidence against Adrien, all the evidence in favor of Coccinello — and she felt her color rising when she realized that the answer her heart was beating to give him was yes.

Guilt seeped into her stomach. But was this right? To move onto Coccinello when she was still getting over Adrien?

A smaller — less rational, but more persuasive — part of her thoughts pointed out that she had wanted someone to love, hadn’t she? And here he was, standing right in front of her. The someone she had asked for. Maybe not the someone she had thought she wanted at first, but certainly the someone that she wanted now. What was so wrong with that?

Coccinello’s voice broke into her warring thoughts. “Kitty, are you okay? I didn’t mean to put the spotlight on you like that…” his face fell and he regarded her with an expression full of concern, and a bit of frustration with himself for pressuring her. He moved away from her, closed his eyes in anguish.

But it was that moment that convinced Kitty Noire more than anything.

Coccinello was the most caring person she knew. Someone who believed in her, even when she had thought herself a murderer. Someone who always knew how to cheer her up, who could read her mind during the battles they fought together. Coccinello cared about whether or not he hurt her, whether or not he pressured her, whether or not she was happy, or upset, or in danger. He was everything Adrien hadn’t been.

Kitty Noire’s face cleared up in realization. Coccinello was her someone to love — not Adrien — and the fact that it had taken this long for her to figure it out made her laugh in disbelief, but also in joy, because now that she had figured it out, nothing was going to keep her from doing something about it.

Without thinking, Kitty Noire launched herself at Coccinello, closing the space between them in one bound. She went into his arms and held him, and he, a bit dazed, held her in return, petting her head gently, trailing his fingers in her hair. They stayed like that for many moments, just holding onto one another, Kitty leaning her head into his chest, Coccinello smiling down at her.

“Am I right to take that as a yes, Kitty Cat?” he asked her once she had loosened her grip enough to look up into his eyes.

She giggled with giddiness, moving her arms to wrap about his neck. “Yes, you are. And also,” she blushed, her eyes dipping flirtatiously, “yes, there is a space in my life for a particular bug. It’s been waiting for you to claim it,” and she winked at him, just to give him a taste of his own teasing.

Coccinello’s bubbly chuckle made his head tilt back, and when he looked into her eyes again, the happy glow that Kitty loved to see on him had returned at last, and he was beaming at her, his joy radiant, so Kitty Noire closed her eyes and basked in his sunshine.

Chapter Text

Kitty Noire and Coccinello stayed there on the Arc de Triomphe for close to an hour, sitting and watching the sunset, their legs dangling off the side of the monument, their hands intertwined. When Kitty Noire turned to look at Coccinello’s profile, she couldn’t help but smile. Paris’ hero was actually hers… 

But with that realization came another one, more sobering and less fun. Kitty squirmed a little thinking about it. It hadn’t crossed her mind earlier, in the shock of sorting out her feelings. But now that it was there, floating in her thoughts, it was all she could think about.

“Cocci? Is this… a bad idea?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, worry dancing on the corners of his lips. “What do you mean?”

Kitty’s free hand fidgeted in her braid. “Just that we’re superheroes. Don’t you think it’s dangerous? What if it distracts us in battle?”

Coccinello’s expression cleared. “Oh, I see,” he said, squeezing the hand that was in his. “No, I’m not worried. If anything, I think it will make us a stronger team,” and he looked back at her with adoration.

Kitty’s glance returned to watching the cars go by below them, a blush rising. His confidence was hard to argue with, so she didn’t. She took a deep breath and tried to adopt his calm mindset.

Eventually, Coccinello stood, pulling Kitty up with him. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on the back of her hand and asked, “So when can I see you again?” with a teasing wink that made Kitty chuckle. Such a traditional way of courting for such an untraditional couple. She imagined meeting him somewhere less unlikely, in a bar for example, and him walking her home, and asking her the same question at her doorstep. It made her shake her head in bemused wonder.

“How about tomorrow?” she suggested. “Ice cream?”

Coccinello’s eyes grew in delight. “I know just the place. Meet me at the Pont des Artes at 17:00?”

Kitty’s eyebrows rose. “What, you’re not going to pick me up?”

Coccinello made a face. He leaned close, whispered in her ear, “See, this is why, of all the girls in Paris, you’re the one I’m crazy about.”

He pulled away, launched his yo-yo into the distance, and winked before flying off to scout elsewhere. 

Kitty Noire let herself sigh in excitement before heading home.

When Marinette got back to her apartment, she was practically buzzing. She sat down at her desk to get to work on her bowler hat, but put her sketchbook down as soon as she picked it up. 

“Plagg, can you believe it?” she asked, her eyes floating up to gaze at Alya’s sexy Coccinello calendar, trying to keep her cheeks from blushing for the fifth time that evening. 

Plagg poked his head out of the Cheese-Itz box without saying anything. Marinette was almost too distracted by her own elation to notice. Almost. 

She turned to him. “You have reservations?”

Plagg floated onto her desk and shoved two cheese crackers into his tiny mouth at once. He chewed thoughtfully, then replied, “Reservations? No. Concerns? Maybe.”

Had Marinette been Kitty Noire, her ears would have drooped. “Uh oh. How come? Is it about the fact that we’re heroes?”

Plagg wiggled his head. “Kind of. You’ve been doing really well this week in regards to Adrien. I hated to see you so low and I was happy that you were finally cheering up. But that being said, don’t you think this is all happening rather fast?”

“Fast?” Marinette looked blankly at her kwami.

“Yeah. What I mean is, yesterday you wouldn’t have even considered getting ice cream with Coccinello in a non-platonic way. I think it would be problematic for your ability to be effective superheroes if he was just a rebound to you.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed, and the air whooshed out of her lungs. Was he? Was she just rebounding on Coccinello? She thought her feelings were genuine. “How can I tell, Plagg?”

Plagg’s expression shifted into one of guilt. “I don’t mean to concern you, Marinette. You seem surprised, so that’s a good sign. Just… be careful.”

Marinette tried to turn back to her swan hat, but her energy felt drained. Was she just using Coccinello to help herself get over Adrien? The idea horrified her. Coccinello deserved so much better than that.

Plagg floated up to sit on top of the sketchbook. “Please, have a good time tomorrow. I didn’t mean to imply things that weren’t true.”

But Marinette sighed. “That’s the thing, Plagg. How will I know for sure if they’re true or not?”

Plagg’s whiskers wiggled in thought. “Go on the date. If after that, when you see Adrien again, you aren’t cured of him, you’ll know.”

She nodded, trying to be confident. She hoped with everything inside her that the next time she saw Adrien, it would be just like seeing anyone else.

Marinette took a deep breath, picked up her pencils, and got back to work. The hat wasn’t going to make itself, and if Marinette was too distracted by Coccinello to make a hat, she’d be useless in their next battle.

The following morning, Marinette walked to the humanities building, a bit jumpy. She was going to see Adrien, and although it mattered less now than it would after tonight, it still frazzled her nerves. If her heart beat fast just looking at her ex-crush, she’d have to face facts that maybe there was nothing “ex” about it. And if tonight’s date didn’t make her forget all about Adrien, she’d have to end things with Coccinello just as they were starting. Would that break his heart? Would it make it difficult for them to do their jobs?

Marinette took her usual seat and groaned. Why did she always have to make a mess of things?

The door to the lecture hall opened creakily, and Marinette didn’t have to turn to know it was Sunflower Boy entering. She could just feel his presence prickle the back of her neck, like he was some uncomfortable truth she wished she could stall hearing.

As if in slow motion, he walked down the aisle to the front row, and Marinette looked up to watch him go, and —

Her shoulders fell. Nothing. She stared at his little blond head and felt nothing.

Well, perhaps not nothing. But nothing like pining, or wanting, or regretting. She felt some anger, as if he had been a trusted friend who had lied to her, but no more than that. She allowed herself a happy breath. She was over Adrien, for real now. She could go into her date tonight with confidence, without reservation. Coccinello was the only man on her mind, and the assurance relieved her so much, she pulled out her pencil and listened attentively to Professor Fu’s lecture. 

Marinette didn’t have work today, or her internship, so she was free as a bird as soon as History of Modern Fashion class ended. She sighed. It was noon. What was she going to do with all this free time?

An idea struck her, and Marinette pulled out her phone and dialed the person she wanted to talk to most right now. Even if she couldn’t tell her the whole story.

Marinette and Alya sat across from each other at one of the wrought-iron tables outside of the Chic Café (stylized as ChiCafé), the bistro on campus.

“This is legendary!” Alya exclaimed, her salad forgotten. “I hope everyone heard that! Marinette Dupain-Cheng is officially over Adrien Agreste!”

Marinette colored, looking around at the other patrons. None of them even heard Alya, but she still begged her friend to keep it down. “It’s not like I want him to know I ever had feelings in the first place,” she reminded Alya.

“Of course, of course,” Alya apologized, ducking her head, the excited grin still smeared all over her face. “I’m just so proud!”

Marinette sighed, taking a bite of her hummus and cheese sandwich. “I’m happy too,” she replied, her thoughts drifting back to her plans for the night.

“So what caused this sudden change?” Alya inquired, her eyebrows dancing conspiratorially. Marinette stifled a giggle. Her friend never stopped trying to sniff out a scoop.

“Nothing in particular,” she lied. “I think being upset at him helped a lot. It’s all I really feel now,” she continued, and that part was 100% truth.

Alya touched Marinette’s hand. “It might be like that for a while. But you’ll grow out of that, too. Meeting someone else will help even more, but I’m done trying to set you up until you’re truly ready,” she smiled, punctuating that with a bite of salad.

“Thanks,” Marinette replied, and both girls ate their lunches in silence for a while. Marinette’s thoughts danced to her plans for the night. If things went well, she’d be Coccinello’s girlfriend by the time she went to sleep. Or was she already? 

She eyed Alya, who was momentarily checking updates on her Kittynello Blog. It sure would be hard keeping her new relationship a secret. She ached to tell Alya all about it, but there was too much at stake.

Time for her to come up with a good cover story.

Kitty Noire’s feet landed on the bridge at 17:00 sharp, and she smirked to herself, knowing she’d poke fun at Coccinello for being late. But she stopped short when she turned toward Andre’s ice cream cart and saw her date already there, chatting with Andre himself.

Kitty Noire approached the two of them, well pleased that she didn’t have to wait for him. “Hey, boys!” she called, and both gentlemen turned to look at her. Andre’s eyes lit up in glee to find not just one, but two of Paris’ heroes there to taste his gourmet ice cream. Coccinello’s eyes went soft and he seemed to melt at beholding her. She sashayed a little closer, booping his nose. “Melting for me so soon, huh? But we haven’t even ordered any ice cream yet.”

Coccinello rolled his eyes, putting his arm around her. “Sometimes your puns are worse than mine.”

Kitty Noire’s smile gave her away as she faced Andre, ready to order.

Andre regarded them and cried, “Oh my! Am I beholding two lovebirds?”

Neither hero gave a direct answer, and Andre laughed.

“You two are as crazy about each other as any couple I’ve seen,” and he gestured to the photos of other Parisian couples hanging on his cart. “You know what they say about my ice cream, right?” and he winked.

Kitty Noire’s confusion was tangible. “…That it’s good?”

Both Andre and Coccinello chuckled at her. She looked at her date and narrowed her eyes. Was he setting her up?

“My ice cream has the power to bring lovers closer together. It’s said couples who eat my ice cream together will stay together. That it’s magical. I say it sounds like just the thing for the two of you.” Andre smiled teasingly at Kitty.

She blushed. Magical ice cream? Was he for real?

“If you don’t try it, there’s no way to know,” Coccinello urged.

Kitty Noire scratched the back of her head. “I don’t know about magic, but I’m sure it tastes magical. We’ll take some.”

Andre scooped a cone for each of them. He handed Kitty Noire’s to her first. “Banana for his hair, peach for his lips, and mint for his eyes,” he said, and Kitty regarded it quizzically. What did he mean? Coccinello’s eyes were blue.

He handed Coccinello his next, saying, “Blackberry for her hair, passionfruit for her lips, blueberry for her eyes.” 

Kitty Noire peered at Cocci’s ice cream. That wasn’t right either! Her eyes weren’t blueberry at all. At least, not while she was transformed…

Coccinello thanked Andre, his other hand twining in Kitty’s, pulling her back to the present. “If we eat these, we’ll be put under a magical love spell, you know that right?” he teased.

Kitty shrugged. “Let’s see just how strong this magic is. Thanks, Andre!” she called, beginning to walk away.

Of course, Kitty Noire and Coccinello had forgotten momentarily that they were celebrities. 

“It’s them!” someone shouted from the other side of the bridge. “Paris’ heroes! Kitty Noire and Coccinello!”

As if out of nowhere, people appeared and began to run closer to them, surrounding them from all sides.

“Are you two on a date?!” someone shrieked.

“At Andre’s!” Another.

“It’s Kitty and Cocci, they’re a thing!” One voice rose above another, and soon enough the Pont des Artes was swarming, the heroes’ eyes blinded by the flashes of cameras from all angles.

Kitty Noire tried to see, to cast about for some route of escape, but there was no way out. “Coccinello, what do we —”

“Here, hold this, please, sweetheart?” he asked, putting his ice cream in her other hand. Then he pulled her close to him, retrieved his yo-yo, and flew them up to the closest rooftop. Kitty held onto him with a smile as they soared together through the air, trying to protect the ice cream from the bracing wind.

Their feet touched down on the building and the Parisians beneath screamed and pointed there, too. 

Kitty handed Coccinello his ice cream and he scooped a huge bite with the small spoon Andre had given him. “Delicious. I think I can feel my heart melt as we speak.”

Kitty Noire shook her head at him, taking a bite herself. They sat down on the rooftop, as to be smaller and thus harder to see. But the crazed Parisians were still beneath them. The heroes didn’t think the ice cream would survive another trip, so they tried to ignore the screaming fans as best they could.

Kitty knew one thing when her dessert was finished: Andre’s ice cream was amazing, and deserved the reputation it had. As for the magic? Time would tell.

“Wanna get out of here?” Coccinello asked once Kitty Noire had finished her cone. She nodded and he held her close again, launching them into the sunset, leaving their fans wishing they could follow.

Coccinello took her to the Eiffel Tower, to the very top, where no one could reach them. She held onto his hand, “for balance,” although they both knew Kitty could balance perfectly well on her own.

“That was a great idea, Cocci,” she told him. “I’d never had Andre’s before.”

“Neither had I. But my friends have. I knew I wanted to wait to try it until I found someone I wanted to test it out with, though.” He played with her hand in his, running his blunt fingertips over her clawed ones. He pressed his palm to hers, marveled at the size difference between them. “Sometimes I wonder how different things would be if I had been the cat and you had been the ladybug,” he mentioned idly. “Having claws would be cool.”

“I think they’re just for decoration,” Kitty told him. “I’ve never actually used them to scratch a monster before.”

“You just about scratched Nadja Chamack the first time she tried to imply there was something going on between us,” he raised his eyebrows.

Kitty Noire scoffed. “Did not. And she was being a pest. There really was nothing there.”

“Maybe she was predicting the future,” Coccinello leered playfully.

Kitty Noire rolled her eyes with a chuckle, resting her head on his shoulder. “Maybe.”

They sat there, watching the sunset, just as they had yesterday. Kitty Noire took a contented breath. Her thoughts were miles away from Adrien. As she held her partner’s hand, she wanted to laugh at her past self. What did Adrien have that Coccinello didn’t, in a larger amount? Sure, Adrien had been kind, but so was Coccinello — kinder even than she was. Adrien was funny, but Coccinello always made her laugh. And most importantly, she was comfortable with Coccinello. Not a stressed out, jumbled mess who could hardly speak coherently, like she had been with Adrien.

She allowed herself to relax against Coccinello as those thoughts made themselves clear to her. This, being with him, felt so much more… right.

Once the sun was gone, dipped low under the horizon, and the stars blinked and winked down at them, Kitty Noire said, “Tonight was lovely, Coccinello. Thank you.”

She got up from her place beside him; since their hands were invariably linked, Coccinello stood as well, rising to his full height. She looked up at him and that was when she realized just how close they were to one another. His chest was only an inch from hers, and although they had been close together all night, this was something else, something that made her temperature rise and her adrenaline kick in. Coccinello’s eyes reflected the starlight, and as he simply stared into her face, still holding her hand, Kitty Noire wondered if he was going to do what she thought he was going to do. With this proximity, she could practically feel his breath softly blowing against her nose. Coccinello leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek, and Kitty’s eyelids fluttered closed, her heart pounding in anticipation.

But he took her by surprise when he planted a small peck on her cheek instead. Kitty’s eyes flew open and Coccinello pulled away, giving her that same look of adoration he had given her at Andre’s. “Anything for you, Kitty Cat. Goodnight,” and he squeezed her hand once more before he left, she watching him go until his form was just a speck on the horizon, lost behind a building.

Kitty Noire vaulted home, her mind racing, the adrenaline still pounding in her ears, making her muscles tense. She ran over the events of the night. Coccinello had called her sweetheart. It was enough to make any girl swoon, even a superhero.

She landed in the alley behind her apartment building, calling for her detransformation as soon as she checked to make sure no one was watching her. Plagg materialized out of her miracle stone and Marinette squealed. “Plagg, that was a dream!” she sighed.

“What are you going to tell Alya? You’re floating, you know,” he remarked, crossing his little kwami arms.

That brought Marinette down to cloud eight. He was right. Cover story time. “Um, I’m thrilled because Adrien is so out of the picture?”

Plagg just shook his head. “We can do better.”

“Ugh,” Marinette wracked her brain. All it was giving her were replays of the best, most warm-fuzzy-inducing moments of her date.

That was it! She would tell Alya about her date! Just nothing that would give her away. She gave Plagg a wicked grin and his ears fell. “Do I want to know what you’re planning?”

“Don’t worry, you already know all about it. You were there, too, after all,” and she poked the top of his head and winked.

Marinette opened the door to the apartment. Juleka was doing homework at the kitchen table and they waved at one another as Marinette pulled her keys out of the lock. Marinette opened her bedroom door and found Alya at her laptop, headphones in, in super study focus mode.

That was about to change. 

“Alya~” Marinette called in a singsongy voice, making her friend take her headphones out, raising a brow.

“Is everything okay?”

Marinette could hardly contain her excitement. “Oh yeah, it’s more than okay. You’re gonna just about die when you hear this.” Marinette gave her roommate a look.

Alya’s jaw fell open. “What is it? Is it about Kitty Noire?”

Marinette just nodded, her shoulders all the way up to her ears, her grin spanning her entire face.

Alya jumped out of her chair. “Marinette! You have to tell me!” She grabbed her friend’s shoulders, shook them gently.

“I was just casually strolling on the Pont des Artes and guess who was there, getting Andre’s ice cream, on a date?” Marinette wiggled her brows.

Alya’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Kitty Noire? Are you for real?!”

“Yes! I saw them with my own eyes!” Marinette insisted, trying not to laugh at how much fun she was having.

“Them? You mean, she was on a date with… Coccinello?” Alya nearly shrieked, and Marinette just nodded again.

“AAHHH!!” Alya’s hands flew to her face, and she clawed at her cheeks in disbelief and euphoria. “Were they really on a date? Like, romantically?”

Marinette gave Alya a look. “Girl, they were getting Andre’s. That speaks for itself.”

Alya’s expression dropped. “Well, not necessarily, they could have gone as friends, I mean, Nino and his crew did that recently, and —”

“Oh, I guess there was also the fact that they were holding hands,” Marinette teased, winking at her friend.

The stars returned to Alya’s eyes. She was practically drooling. “Holding… hands?” she asked weakly. “Oh. My. God. This is legendary!”

Marinette laughed then, she couldn’t keep it in anymore. She was enjoying herself far too much.

“Please tell me you got photos!” Alya cried, gripping Marinette’s arms with serious conviction. 

Sweat broke out on Marinette’s brow. “No, I didn’t get a chance to.” Because that would have been impossible, she joked to herself. “I was too shocked at seeing them that I forgot all about my phone!” she fibbed, and it wasn’t her worst excuse.

Alya’s face fell. “I should have known. You get so starstruck.” 

Marinette gaped at her friend. “Like you don’t?” 

Alya tossed her hair. “I mean… I at least would have remembered to get some pics.”

Marinette put her fists on her hips. “There’s probably some pictures online already. I’m surprised your blog hasn’t been blowing up.”

Alya gasped. “It probably is! I muted my notifications so I could study for my exam. So much for that, now!” and she raced to grab her phone, her expression shifting into one of wonder all over again. Wordlessly, she shoved the screen into Marinette’s face.

Marinette backed away to get a good look. There they were, Kitty seeming a little disoriented, holding Coccinello’s hand like it was a lifesaver that would keep her from drowning in a sea of crazed fans. Marinette had to admit, they looked really cute together. It made a little smile creep onto her face.

Alya swiped through, showing Marinette the scene she knew so well, but from a fresh perspective. Shots of Coccinello’s hand on her waist as she held their ice cream, of them flying away, even of the tops of their heads poking up from their hiding place on the roof of the nearby building. “They’re adorable,” Marinette sighed to her friend.

Alya pulled her phone back and clicked about. “I’m gonna reblog all of these photos and save them to the Proof section of my blog. Also, hah!” Alya teased. “See, you naysayer? My followers and I were right the whole time.”

Marinette sat on her bed. “Ah, I should have believed you,” she told her friend. But in her head, she was dancing. 

After footage of the date was leaked, and everyone who hadn’t already seen it got the news from Alya’s blog, going out scouting without attracting attention became even more difficult for the heroes. Their fans camped out at common battle locations, just waiting for them to arrive, hoping to get a glimpse of Kitty and Coccinello in action, but this time in more ways than one.

Even though Kitty loved the attention, it was starting to get to her. She couldn’t go anywhere with Coccinello without the two of them being spotted and a giant crowd collecting to stare up at them and film them, all the while screaming their names as if they were pop idols about to give a live concert. Talk about a mood killer.

An evening or so later, when Coccinello and Kitty Noire were about to leave La Place de la Concorde to try and find somewhere more secluded to hang out, a monster seemed to appear out of nowhere right beside the ferris wheel. All of the fans ran for cover (but stayed nearby to cheer as always), and the press arrived in neck-breaking time, before Kitty Noire had truly had a chance to scope out what this particular monster was.

“OMG, go Kitty! Get it girl! I love you!” a fan screamed from below, and Kitty turned her hearing down to tune out the crowd. She was suddenly irritable. It was all well and good that she and Cocci were together now… but how would they be able to be a real couple if they couldn’t even hang out, or go on patrol, without attracting so much attention?

“This monster’s gonna be a piece of cake. Then we can go back to where we were, my kitten,” Coccinello leaned over, winking at her to break her out of her annoyed thoughts. She gave him a small smile and shifted her focus back onto the monster.

This time, the creature was a giant crow, walking along the pavement, flapping its wings, and pecking at anything that moved. The fans backed up even more, and Kitty wished they would just go home.

“Squawk!” it screeched, and Kitty Noire turned her hearing down even more. 

Coccinello brandished his yo-yo, wiggling his eyebrows with excitement. She looked over at him and took a breath, trying to absorb some of her partner’s cheer.

She pulled out her baton and as she did so, the crow abruptly took flight, the force of its wings blowing away the fans, the news reporters, even the nearby cars and trucks. Kitty Noire would have gone flying too, but Coccinello wrapped his yo-yo around the crow’s leg and held Kitty to himself, the two heroes hanging in midair as the crow continued to gain height, until finally, it stopped flapping and cruised above the scene.

Kitty shoved her wind-blown bangs out of her face, turned to Cocci, and, meeting the steely look in his eye, she nodded.

The two of them launched themselves forward in different directions, Coccinello arcing to land on the crow’s back, while Kitty vaulted up and hung onto its legs.

The crow flailed, trying to shake them loose, and Coccinello waited until just the right angle to toss up his yo-yo and call for his lucky charm, the item falling down past his reach and landing right in Kitty Noire’s outstretched hand, on which her cataclysm power was already prepped.

The charm was a fishing pole, and it buzzed with the dark energy now long familiar to Kitty Noire. She dragged the tip of the pole gently along the underbelly of the bird, making a long incision where she was sure the victim was stowed.

As the monster and the unlucky charm made contact, the charm discharged in a blinding flash of light; Kitty shielded her eyes as the crow screeched again, beginning to lose its balance with the pain. Coccinello took that cue and wrapped his yo-yo around its shoulders and pulled, as if on reins, slowing their descent, and gently landing all three of them beside the ferris wheel in a flurry of giant black feathers.

Kitty jumped off of the bird’s feet right before they touched the ground, and she turned expectantly toward the body of the crow, waiting for it to peel away and reveal the unconscious victim, as it always did.

Coccinello hopped down and landed right beside her, sliding his hand around her and kissing her temple. Kitty let herself melt into his touch for a moment until she heard the crowd uproar in cheers and catcalls. Her shoulders fell and her expression twisted from one of content to anger. She moved away from Coccinello, forcing his hand to drop so that the people would just shut up already.

She bent down to examine the body, as now the bird was almost totally disintegrated, just a mass of black feathers. Kitty Noire brushed the feathers away to reveal the person. He was an elderly gentleman, much older than the usual demographic for possession victims. It made Kitty forget all about the annoying crowd in the sympathy that pulled at her stomach. He was laying on his back, his face in the pavement, and Kitty began to turn him over, brushing away more feathers as she did so, trying to get him as clean of the creature that had overtaken him as she could.

One pesky feather remained at the back of the man’s neck, and Kitty leaned even closer to examine it, and doing so, she did something she had incidentally never done before.

There was a small black feather poking right out of the nape of the elderly man’s neck, as if he was growing it like hair. Kitty tugged at it, finally plucking it from his skin. It came and she was shocked to find it was much shorter than she had expected. Much shorter than the crow’s feathers had been. In fact, this feather looked nothing like the crow’s feathers. It was softer, less bristly, with a rounder shape, less oblong. But more shocking still was what Kitty Noire didn’t notice because she was too busy inspecting it.

Coccinello gasped above her. “Kitty! Look!”

Her eye jumped down to the elderly man. His eyelids were flickering. Kitty Noire turned his head up to look into his face, her eyebrows knitted in concern.

The man’s eyes opened slowly. He blinked dazedly up at her, finally grumbling, “Kitty Noire? Where am I?”

She answered on autopilot, her mind reeling. “La Place de la Concorde, sir.”

“…How did I get here?”

“You… you were possessed by a monster, sir. We saved you,” Kitty told him, her heart racing. Would the man remember anything from before his possession? About how it had happened?

But her disappointment was almost tangible as the man simply nodded, already fading back into unconsciousness.

The next time Kitty Noire looked up, the physician and the ambulance were there as well as Coccinello, who lifted her gently from the victim to let the authorities take over. 

One of the medical experts turned to her, smiling. “He’ll be okay. He’s just very, very drained.”

Kitty nodded slowly, finally able to exhale. Coccinello squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. They were right. This was not like her first fight. No other victims had died since that mistake, but Kitty was more determined than anything to not let it happen again.

“Wait,” Coccinello called to the physician, moving toward the ambulance. “We need to investigate the other victims.”

The physician nodded and the heroes sat in the back of the emergency vehicle once the elderly gentleman was safely tucked in on his stretcher.

The ride to the hospital was silent, but Coccinello intertwined his hand in Kitty Noire’s, resting his head against hers. Since they were all alone back there, Kitty smiled and held him in return, trying to recover from how frayed her emotions were after this discovery. What did this feather mean? And did the other victims have it, and they had simply never noticed?

Kitty Noire and Coccinello went ahead of the stretcher, a nurse directing them to all of the other victims’ rooms. 

“None of them have awoken, or even stirred. But their pulses are all normal,” the nurse told them, opening the first door for the heroes.

It was the young boy, the one who had been trapped in the flaming dragon. Coccinello went ahead and turned the child over as carefully as possible. “Well? Is there a feather?” he asked Kitty Noire, who bent closer to examine the nape of the boy’s neck. A mix of relief and concern flooded her stomach as she found nothing, and was about to say so, until she ran her hand against the boy’s night-black hair, trying to feel for the feather instead of look.

Her heart tugged as her hand caught on a texture unlike the hair, despite their similarity in color. She pulled against the feather and it came out smoothly; this one was a bit longer than the one which had been inside the elderly gentleman.

Kitty brandished the feather in relieved horror to her parter, and the nurse. Coccinello’s brows came together in determination, and the nurse gasped.

The child stirred, his eyes slowly opening. “Huh? Where… where am I?”

Kitty Noire and Coccinello exchanged a look.

After ensuring the boy was going to be okay, the heroes moved to the next room, and lo and behold, as Coccinello had suspected, every victim indeed had the black feather buried in the nape of their neck, and none of them knew anything; they each said so before falling back into an exhausted sleep.

Kitty Noire and Coccinello left the hospital, thanking everyone for their help. They were thanked profusely in return by the hospital staff before launching themselves out into the evening, chatting as they flew over the Parisian rooftops.

“This is huge, Kitty,” Coccinello called, and Kitty Noire nodded, the black feather tucked away in one of her suit pockets.

“It’s a big achievement. We freed those victims from their endless sleeps. But it’s also a big setback. I can’t be the only one who was hoping to get some answers once they finally awoke. Now we’re back to square one.”

They touched down on a rooftop together, Coccinello moving toward Kitty, keeping her from hopping onto the next one. “Yes, and no,” he told her, putting a hand on her upper arm. “We did learn something from this.”

Kitty raised her eyebrow in questioning.

“We now know that one person — one particular person — is behind this. We don’t know who they are, but we know that they are using some kind of dark magic to enchant these feathers. I’m not sure how, exactly, the victims get possessed at that point, but it’s more than nothing. The monsters aren’t the ones possessing the people. Someone is enabling the monsters, maybe even creating them.”

Kitty Noire’s head spun. Someone was plotting this? As in, the creatures weren’t acting of their own accord, as they had suspected before?

But it made complete sense. Someone controlled the monsters, allowed them to possess the victims.

And that meant that, whoever that someone was, it was their job to track them down, find them, and stop them.

By the time Marinette returned home, it was nearly midnight. She and Coccinello had stayed on that rooftop, talking for hours, bouncing theories between each other, trying to find out a new plan of attack.

Marinette felt so stupid now that they had discovered the truth. How could she have let herself believe that magical monsters who had a will of their own were possessing civilians just for fun? Rampaging the streets to make a ruckus and nothing more?

Of course not. Just as Fu had known to put his miracle stone to use, so she should have known this was about that, too. Someone was out there, she and Coccinello had determined, and they had magical abilities, and they were using them to do harm.

But the question they could not answer was the most important one. Why? Why would they do this? Just to make a mess? It didn’t make any sense.

The heroes racked their brains for hours trying to determine the motive, but nothing fit. After that had frustrated them enough, Kitty Noire brought up an arguably more pressing issue: how would they stop this villain? They couldn’t just keep allowing this to go on by mindlessly fighting monsters and doing nothing to get to the source. But what could they do? Besides the feathers, all evidence vanished once the battle was over.

Coccinello laughed humorlessly. “It’s not like the villain is going to broadcast themselves to us, all like, Kitty Noire! Coccinello! I’m the evildoer in this town! Try to find me and stop me! Like, this isn’t a game. This is for real.” He put his head in his hands in frustration, so Kitty moved closer to him and sat beside him on the cold rooftop, trying to comfort him with her presence. 

“At least we have each other in this fight. Imagine having to do it alone,” she told him, so thankful that she hadn’t given up her miracle stone after all, that she had stayed being Kitty Noire, for not only Coccinello’s sake, but all of Paris. They were so much stronger together.

Coccinello squeezed her hand wordlessly in response.

She put her key in the lock as quietly as possible, too afraid to check her phone, terrified she’d find thousands of concerned texts from Alya wondering if she had died. The door creaked open and Marinette was taken off-guard to see that there were still lights on in the living room. And even more surprising was the fact that the girl in question was right there, sitting on the couch, two mugs of steaming tea in front of her on the coffee table.

Marinette’s jaw fell open as Alya fixed her with the same look her mother used to do when she had caught Marinette working too hard. She closed the door behind her and moved to sit beside her friend on the couch. Alya silently handed her the mug and Marinette took a sip. It was chamomile. Her favorite. How did Alya know that?

She looked up to her roommate, her eyes beginning to fill without her permission.

“So tell me what’s up. I feel like we haven’t talked in a long time. I mean, we have,” she corrected herself. “But not like we used to. You’re gone so much more often these days, and until later and later hours, and… I worry about you, Marinette. But more than that, I miss you,” Alya smiled sadly, finally looking up into Marinette’s eyes.

Alya was expecting Marinette to confess to whatever secrets she was keeping, but she didn’t expect her friend to cry. Marinette just sat there, her eyes pooling, drinking the tea without saying a word.

What had Marinette been thinking? The last time someone did something like this for her, the last time she felt as though someone was really looking out for her, had been at home. Her mother had surprised her with her favorite cake when Marinette had been stressed about her university entrance exams. She held her late at night when the pressure was more than Marinette could handle, rubbing her back in slow circles as she cried her heart out.

How was it that she could have convinced herself that Alya didn’t care about her? That she didn’t pay attention? That she didn’t do anything for Marinette? Marinette wanted to shout at her past self, wanted to shake her like a rag doll until she got some sense into her.

And adding this revelation to her already tumultuous emotions made Marinette break down.

She put the mug of tea onto its coaster and bawled beside Alya, blubbering everything that she had been holding back, that she had been too afraid to admit to.

“I feel like such a loser in comparison to you, sometimes, Alya. You’re such a great friend and I don’t do anything for you but drag you down with my reckless episodes and my depressive moods. But you’re always there for me, to cheer me up and bring me back to Earth, and I just don’t understand why you do it, so I tell myself that you aren’t really genuine about it in order to reconcile these things in my head. But I know the reality is just that I’m afraid that one day you’ll realize what a shitty friend I am and you’ll leave, and so if I say you were never really my best friend after all, it will hurt less. I’m always too busy to check in on you, juggling my gajillion jobs, and you take it like a champ, you stay up for me and make my favorite tea and try and reach out to me, and —” Marinette’s voice broke with her sob, and Alya wrapped her arms around her friend to let her ride it out.

“I just feel like such a lame, boring friend,” she cried, and it was muffled in the softness of Alya’s sweater. “Why would you, Alya the Kittynello blogger, with the amazing relationship and exciting life, want to hang out with me, stupid Marinette who can’t do anything right, who spends all her time slaving away, and never does anything interesting? It just doesn’t make sense…”

Alya petted Marinette’s hair to relax her, and it reminded her of Coccinello. That was another thing, but she couldn’t say it out loud. She had an entire secret life that she had to keep from her friend, and surely Alya knew something was up, but she just waited patiently for whenever Marinette would be ready to talk, even though Marinette knew that time would never come. But Alya still didn’t hold it against her. How did she do it?

“Oh, Marinette. You’re a little silly sometimes, you know? I don’t think you’re boring at all. Sometimes I wonder why super cool Marinette, who’s always doing something because her life is just so exciting that she doesn’t have the time to sit still, who landed an amazing internship, while the only reason anyone knows who I am is because I got lucky enough to live in the one city in the world where there are superheroes… Sometimes I wonder why she wants to be my friend. But then I remember all the times you’ve been there for me, when you humored my harebrained schemes, when we stayed up all night plotting ways to finally get back at Chloé, when you gave me pep talks any time I got insecure about Nino… it’s those times that I realize how lucky I am to call you my best friend, Marinette. And yes, you are my best friend, and no, I don’t call you that just for fun. I call you that because I mean it, so please get that into your pretty little head, okay?”

Marinette looked up at her friend and gave her a watery smile. She had never thought of it from Alya’s perspective before. The whole time she had been wallowing about not being cool enough for her friend… her friend had been doing the same. This must have been what Plagg was seeing that Marinette wasn’t. Of course he had been right about Alya; he was right about everything. 

Marinette wrapped her arms tighter around Alya and made a mental note to apologize to Plagg, and also to really listen next time he advised her.

“And I know you’re busy. It’s not something I ever take personally; in fact it’s something I admire about you. You work ten times as hard as I do, but I never hear you complain about it. You’re one of the strongest people I know, and you deserve the world,” Alya added, her voice soft with emotion. 

Marinette was quiet for a long time before she finally pulled away from Alya’s shoulder, looked in her roommate’s eyes, and slowly smiled. “I feel the same way about you.”

Alya smiled back at her friend, lifting up her now-lukewarm tea to have a sip. Marinette joined her, and the two girls just drank together and chatted lightly as one day faded into the next.

Chapter Text

Marinette awoke slowly that morning, her dream still swirling around in her consciousness. She’d dreamt that she and Coccinello were sitting together in Fu’s office hours.

Dreams were strange like that, she thought vaguely. Coccinello didn’t even know Fu.

It was that half-asleep thought that had her sitting up in bed, as alert as if she’d been hit.

She and Coccinello had been so focused on trying to beat this villain on their own, using their own resources, that she hadn’t realized she had a resource that Coccinello didn’t; Professor Fu. Marinette wasn’t sure exactly how Coccinello had gotten his miracle stone, didn’t know if he had a resource like the professor, but she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it earlier. 

She jumped out of bed, checking her clock. 08:53. If she hurried, she could make it to Professor Fu’s office hours before class started.

She flurried about the room, getting dressed and brushing her teeth at the same time, cursing herself for forgetting about the History of Modern Fashion reading among yesterday’s excitement.

“Plagg, would that feather still be in my pocket?” she asked her kwami as she left the apartment.

“Most likely,” he yawned. “Why?”

“I’m going to bring it to the professor,” she replied immediately.

Plagg’s eyes widened. “Oh, excellent idea, Marinette. I didn’t even think of it.”

“Neither did I; it came to me in a dream, I guess,” and she winked down at him poking out of her purse.

There was a moment. “By the way, you were right about Alya. Thanks for trying to help me. And I’m sorry for not heeding your advice.”

Plagg gloated a little, then waved a paw at her in dismissal. “I’m glad it worked out.”

Marinette smiled to herself as she spotted the humanities building. She was glad, too.

The elevator ride felt too long. What if there was a huge line for his office hours and she didn’t manage to get to speak with him before class time? She wouldn’t have another opportunity to show him the feather today, and they needed all the time they could get.

The elevator ding!ed and Marinette ran out into the hallway, turning the corner, praying for no line…

Her breath whooshed out in relief. No one was here!

She approached Fu’s office tentatively, poking her head into his always-open door. Well, almost always.

Fu looked up from his desk. “Hi, Marinette!” He seemed surprised, and Marinette wondered if he hadn’t heard about the feathers yet. Or did the news not get a chance to film that?

“Hi, professor,” Marinette fidgeted. “I have a question… about… um, a particular assignment of yours. May I close the door?”

Professor Fu just nodded, putting his bookmark in and turning his full attention to her. Once the door was shut, Plagg emerged from Marinette’s bag. She looked at him and nodded, calling for her transformation.

Kitty Noire put a clawed hand into the pocket she remembered storing the feather in last night. She held it out to Fu. “Coccinello and I found these in the backs of the victim’s necks after the last battle. They were in every single person, and we hadn’t noticed before. Removing them brought them out of their comas, and Coccinello figured that this was some tool that the person behind this is using. But we don’t know what to do to find them. So, I figured I’d ask you if you knew anything.”

Fu took the feather, his expression morphing into one of horror. His hand shook as he held the offending object. “Oh… this is very bad. If this is what I think it is…”

Kitty Noire’s brows disappeared into her bangs. “Professor? Are you alright?”

The professor shook his head to clear it and then looked up at Kitty Noire. “I need to get in contact with my comrades. This is very urgent, Marinette.”

He fished around for a pad of sticky notes. He scrawled a number on it and handed it to her. “This is my burner phone number. Program it in your phone so that we can communicate.”

Kitty Noire detransformed and took the note, pulling out her phone and dialing the number. Why did Fu need a burner phone? His smartphone was sitting there on his desk, but sure enough, deep in a drawer, muffled in files, something began to ring. Fu pulled the old flip-phone out and saved her number to it, smiling at her, although it was strained. “I will text you if anything comes up, and now you can do the same. Make sure that you never include any revealing information in your messages, though,” he added gravely. “We need to keep the security of ourselves and of the miracle stones in mind at all times.”

Marinette nodded, feeling sick to her stomach. Were the security measures really necessary? They must be, otherwise he wouldn’t be going to the effort. But from who were they supposed to be protecting themselves, exactly?

She was about to ask as much when there was a knock on his office door.

“Be right there!” he called automatically, turning back to Marinette and offering her a smile that she supposed meant this meeting was over. But the usual brightness Marinette had gotten so used to seeing in her professor’s expression was gone, leaving her feeling vacant and hopeless.

This was worse than she’d thought. She had been expecting the professor to not know anything, or best case scenario, to know exactly what it was and light up in excitement because they had found the key to defeating this enemy. But the terror eating at the edges of Fu’s eyes was the stuff of nightmares. If it made the guardian of a miracle stone quake in his boots, what did it mean for his protégée?

“I’ll let you get to work on that, professor,” Marinette nodded, hoping to seem confident and reassuring. She turned to go when he spoke again.

“Oh, and Marinette?”

“Yes?” she asked, hope rising.

“Be careful about your relationship with Coccinello. It’s dangerous for two miracle stone wielders to be romantically involved, as it can put you, and the miracle stones, at risk. It’s technically forbidden,” he added, his face somber.

Marinette’s hope deflated. Forbidden?

“However,” the professor gave her a tight smile. “I trust you, so I’ll let it slide. Just make sure to be smart.”

Marinette nodded fiercely. “Yes, sir.” She opened the door to his office, letting in the student who had knocked, her heart pounding in her ears. Not only was the feather situation more dire than she’d feared, she was now breaking wielder rules. Fu decided he trusted her, but did she trust herself?

Plagg emerged from her purse, ears drooping upon seeing the look on her face.

“I’m scared, Plagg. I’ve never seen the professor so shaken. Even when he told me to find the ‘different approach,’ he was so confident I could do it, even when he had no idea how to help me. But this? This is different. It felt… wrong.” Marinette wrapped her arms around herself as she waited for the elevator.

Unfortunately, all Plagg could respond with was a distressed expression of his own.

When classes ended that day, Marinette ran to Sloppy Joe’s, her mind still reeling. She hadn’t originally planned to go out scouting tonight; she was hoping to get some homework done, but Coccinello needed to know that she had confided the feather in someone, and that maybe things were more dire than they’d feared. She wrung her hands as she put her cap on over her ponytail. She hoped he wouldn’t be too upset with her for doing so without asking him first. She knew she would have liked a heads-up if he was going to involve someone else in their confidential hero business, even if that person could be trusted.

As she clocked in, her phone began to ring, and for one awful, heart-clenching moment, she knew it would be Fu.

But when she pulled it out of her back pocket, her father’s profile icon made her sigh in relief. She let the call go to voicemail as was her habit, but once her phone was silent again, guilt churned in Marinette’s stomach. She wasn’t meaning to be a bad child, to ignore the people who’d done the most for her. But every time she thought about picking up, all she could imagine was her mother, crying out, “Marinette, when were you planning on telling me about your superhero identity?” on the other end of the line.

That couldn’t be allowed to happen, but she couldn’t put them off forever.

She tied her apron around herself and decided that she would call them back, first thing after work today. Maybe they wouldn’t say anything about Kitty Noire to her.

“Hey, Marinette,” Lila called, waving from the deep fryer.

Marinette put on a smile and waved back, but said nothing, taking a look at the row of orders. She began organizing them from easiest to most complex.

Lila’s expression fell. “You okay, Marinette?”

Marinette looked up in surprise. Lila seemed hurt, and Marinette immediately apologized. She hadn’t meant to be rude. “Sorry. Just a busy week ahead of me. A lot on my mind.”

Lila put her hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Midterms?”

Marinette pulled a face. That wasn’t it at all, but what could she say? “Yeah, things are starting to heat up, with classes and my internship.” Marinette rolled her eyes at herself as she turned away from Lila to pull the onion rings out of the fryer. One of these days she’d get caught up in her white lies.

But today was not that day. Lila tried to give Marinette a reassuring smile. “You got this! And once it’s all over, you have that awesome party that I’m gonna throw to look forward to! I’ve decided it’s gonna be more than just a work party, although all of you are invited,” she called, blowing Aurore a kiss when she wiggled excitedly at that news. “I’ve decided it’ll also be an apartment-warming party, so I’m probably gonna invite, like, everyone I know. It will be a blast! And maybe,” Lila lowered her voice, her eyelashes dipping as she eyed Marinette flirtatiously, “you can meet a guy at the party, forget all about that jerk who doesn’t even deserve to be named.” Lila grinned brightly at the prospect, but turned to flip some burgers when their boss gave her a look.

Marinette colored, but thankfully Lila was too preoccupied to see it. Maybe she should make up some fake out-of-town boyfriend so that her friends could leave her love life alone. 

Six hours later, Marinette hung up her apron and pulled out her phone as she left the restaurant. She scrolled through her call log, clicking her father’s name and lifting her phone up to her ear as she listened to the dial tone. She hoped they wouldn’t be too upset with her for taking so long to finally call back. She hoped even more that the jitters in her stomach were for nothing.

“Hello, dear,” her mother’s voice snapped her out of those thoughts, melting her heart instead. How was it that just the sound of a loved one could make you feel safe?

“Hi, Maman,” Marinette answered. “I was just missing you. And Papa, of course.”

Her mother put the phone on speaker. “Hi, Marinette! Are you doing well?” her father called, his voice seeming far away.

“Hi! I’m doing fine, just busy as always. How are you?” Marinette squeezed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she pulled her keys out of her bag, trying to keep her voice casual and level.

“We’re great, sweetheart! The bakery is doing phenomenally!” her father called again.

“That’s good to hear,” she sighed, opening the door. It seemed that all her nerves were for nothing — they didn’t suspect her and they didn’t seem upset! Marinette let herself relax on the sofa.

“Now, we know something’s up, Marinette. And if you think you can keep it from us, you’re out of luck,” her mother warned her playfully.

Marinette’s eyes widened in terror. She knew it. Just as she was so sure, too! 

She sat up ramrod straight, sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Because how on Earth did she think she could keep her mother from the truth? She could recognize her daughter in any place, any situation, no matter how well disguised she might be.

Fruitlessly, Marinette tried to play it off, but it was half-hearted. “Um… oh? What — what are you talking about? Everything here is just same old, same old,” she answered, but it sounded thin even to her ears.

“Mm-hmm. Sure. When were you planning on telling us about the contest at the PDH? Or were you just going to mail us your winning hat?” she teased.

The breath tumbled out of Marinette’s lungs, and she deflated back into the couch cushions. Her mother wasn’t onto her. It was a miracle.

Her relief was poorly-disguised. “Ah, Maman. That’s no secret! I thought it was a given that I’d enter the competition!”

Her parents laughed. “What bird are you planning on making a hat of, Marinette?” her father asked, much closer to the microphone this time.

Her shoulders fell. She really needed to get to work on her hat. Add that to the mountain of tasks. She tried not to grumble. “A swan. But I’m not sure how I feel about it. Do either of you have any birds you’d rather see inspire a bowler hat?”

Her father chuckled. “I don’t know a thing about fashion, sweetheart. Maybe your mother…?”

Her mom was silent a moment. “I like the swan idea. But I’m feeling something deep red, maybe a parrot?”

Marinette thought about that. It was nice, but not any nicer than the swan idea. She needed something unique.

“I’ll consider that,” she replied, but her parents knew from her tone that she didn’t mean it.

Her parents said nothing for a moment. Marinette heard the oven ding, and her father mutter something, his voice getting farther from the microphone. She was surprised by the hushed tone her mother used next. “Are you really okay, Marinette? Something seems different, you seem more… distant.”

Just as she had thought she was in the clear, Marinette’s stomach tightened in fresh anxiety. Her mother knew something was wrong, that things had changed between them. It was folly to be relieved. “I…” was all she could say.

“We can call back later, when Papa is busy, if it’s something you don’t want him to hear…” she offered, her voice full of hope.

Marinette’s heart sunk down into the floor. So that’s what this was. Her mother assumed this was about a boy, or some girl drama, or something else that, when Marinette used to live back home, she’d discuss exclusively with her mother.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t something she could discuss with anyone, apart from the professor.

“No, Maman, there’s nothing wrong. Everything is fine.” It hurt her to say the words; she winced as they passed her lips. Her mother would know, too, that this was a lie.

The amount of time it took for her to respond was telling. “Okay,” she said eventually. “Well, if anything does happen, and you need someone, you know I’m always here, at any time of the day or night.”

Her mother’s voice was so tender, like a caress down Marinette’s back, like a soft kiss on the cheek, like a hug to tell her everything would be okay. By the time Marinette could nod and answer, the words were thick in her throat.

“I know that, Maman. I love you.” Could the silent tears brimming over her eyes be heard on the other end? 

“I love you too, my blessing.”

The phone shook in Marinette’s hands. That was her special nickname. Her mother hadn’t used it since Marinette had been living at home.

All at once, Marinette wasn’t sure she could keep doing this. “I should go work on my hat now,” she squeaked, trying not to allow her current state to betray her, trying to get her voice even.

“Sure. Call again soon, alright?”

She sniffed, “Alright,” but it was only a whisper.

As soon as the line went dead, Marinette curled up into a fetal position and sobbed. Coccinello would have to wait.

Once Marinette felt she could bear the weight of the world again, she transformed. She knew she couldn’t put it off forever — Coccinello needed to know how things had gone that morning with Fu.

Kitty Noire checked the Eiffel Tower, the banks of the Seine, and the Louvre before she finally found him. She was scoping out the Arc de Triomphe, and she almost missed him, but her eyes travelled down the Champs-Elysées and landed on him, relaxing on the roof of a café. She sped over to him, and when he saw her, a smile spread across his features, lighting them up like a Christmas tree.

When she got closer and he saw the somber expression on her face, those lights went out and his smile fell. “Is everything alright, Kitty Cat?”

Kitty Noire wrapped her arms about her middle and she shook her head. “Not really.” 

Coccinello blinked, waiting for her to elaborate.

Kitty settled in next to him, trying not to think about how betrayed he would feel at the end of her news. Trying not to think about the look in Fu’s eyes or the quake in his voice when he’d seen the feather. Trying not to think about her mother. “Earlier today,” she started, “I brought the dark feather to someone, specifically to the man who gave me my miracle stone. I realize I should have consulted you before doing so, and I’m sorry about that. I know we’re a team. We should make these choices together. It was disrespectful of me.” She sighed, hands fidgeting in her lap.

Coccinello put his hands on hers to stop her nervous movements. “It’s okay, Kitty. I’m not upset; I trust you. But I thank you all the same. It was thoughtful of you to be concerned about how I’d feel.”

Kitty smiled up into his eyes, allowing herself to feel some small relief. It didn’t matter that she’d brought someone into their private business; Coccinello trusted that someone because he was the guardian of a miracle stone. She opened her mouth to let him know as much, to thank him for his graciousness, but he spoke first.

“Besides, I trust Professor Fu as well. I think you did a smart thing, taking it to him. If anyone knows what to do about it, it’s him.”

Suddenly, Kitty Noire froze. How did Coccinello know Fu was the one who gave her her miracle stone? How did he know Fu at all?

His eyes turned to hers as he no doubt felt her stiffen beneath his touch. A raised eyebrow was the only question he managed.

Kitty Noire’s heart thumped unevenly. Oh God. Did this mean…? “How… how do you know the professor?”

Coccinello shifted, nervous now. “Well, he gave me my miracle stone, I mean… it would be strange if I didn’t know him.”

Kitty Noire’s jaw fell. She moved away from Coccinello just to get a better look at him. “You’re saying Fu gave you your miracle stone, too?” Her mind was blank. All her thoughts had stopped, like trains that had converged on one track and crashed.

Coccinello nodded, a timid, small thing.

Kitty Noire held her head in her hands. “How long have you known this about me?” she breathed out in horror. When did Fu tell Coccinello that he was the guardian of not one, but two miracle stones? When did Coccinello learn that the same man was responsible for both their powers?

And how long had she been in the dark about it? 

He gave her the answer she had feared. “Since he gave me my stone. Did he not tell you? Did your kwami not tell you?”

Everything Kitty Noire had been battling with that day came crashing down. All the stress of being a superhero, of keeping secrets from the people she loved most, of not knowing what to do with her stupid swan hat, of the endless drudgery of Sloppy Joes, of everything. Kitty Noire couldn’t help herself; she shouted, struggling to keep her voice even but failing. “No! No one told me anything! I didn’t even know I’d have a partner until that first battle!” She pulled at her hair in frustration, those tears coming hot and fast yet again, even though she’d been so sure she’d cried herself out that afternoon. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why?” Her voice cracked in despair, in desperation. What else was he keeping from her?

Kitty Noire’s anger had made Coccinello shy away, but he slowly moved closer to her, reaching for her hands, softly rubbing her back to calm her. “Kitty, Kitty, it’s okay.”

He was trying to make himself heard over her loud, spastic breathing. Kitty Noire hadn’t realized she was hyperventilating. She hadn’t realized she’d clenched her fists into ironclad weapons until Coccinello gently pulled them apart. She needed to breathe, she needed to calm down.

Coccinello continued on, oblivious to these realizations. “Had I known, I would have told you. I would have said it to you on the first day. But I had no idea. I was operating under the assumption that we had the same information as the other.”

Kitty Noire closed her eyes, focusing on normalizing her breathing. But she was still reeling. Why hadn’t Plagg told her? Why hadn’t Fu mentioned it this morning? He had acted as if he didn’t even know Coccinello, and yet Coccinello was probably giving Fu regular reports or popping into his office hours as often as she was!

Her eyes flew open. A new, horrible realization crashed over her, and she pulled her hands away from her partner to clutch at her stomach. Because she was sure she was going to be sick.

Coccinello whimpered, leaning close again, trying to pull Kitty Noire into his lap. “What happened now, Kitty? Are you ill?”

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head. Her eyes had closed again, because she couldn’t bear those black spots that danced around her vision.

“You’re in my class,” it came out strangled, without voice. Kitty Noire was afraid that, if she spoke, she’d puke.

Coccinello said nothing, but just as her mother had done earlier on the phone, Kitty Noire knew that silence. 

She grimaced, thinking of nothing but recalibrating her body’s center of gravity, trying desperately to ward off the nausea that she knew was only in her mind.

It was a long while before she opened her eyes again, ready to face the question she’d been afraid of this whole time. Because it didn’t really matter if Coccinello knew Fu. It didn’t matter if he was in her class.

Coccinello met her eyes, his full of shame. She wondered what hers were full of, that would twist him up inside so tightly.

“Do you know who I am?” she breathed.

Because it didn’t matter if Coccinello was in her Chinese Mythology class. It didn’t matter that he was a student at Université Françoise-Dupont. 

What mattered was that maybe they knew each other in their civilian forms. Maybe they had even spoken. Maybe they were… friends.

That thought was what had sent her into a spiral of lightheadedness. The idea of her, as Marinette, talking to one of her classmates, and him smiling, knowing all the while that she was Kitty Noire… it was awful.

But the one word she hadn’t expected was the one that came out of his mouth. “No.”

Her head whipped up. “No?”

Coccinello shook his head, that shame finally gone. “Not even close. I’ve known you were in my class since the get-go, and believe me, I’ve scoured the faces again and again. But I’m nowhere close to finding you, Kitty. Your secret is safe.”

He turned back to look at her, a sad smile on his lips.

From that, she knew he was in earnest. “Oh.”

Coccinello finally put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. “Please don’t lose sleep over this. I’m not sure why Fu didn’t give you the information, but believe me, it hasn’t done me all that many favors. But from now on, I promise, that if I learn something, I’ll let you know about it right away, just in case.”

Kitty inhaled a shaky breath, touched beyond belief. She relaxed into the crook of Coccinello’s arm. “Thank you.” She almost started to cry all over again, but this time from joy. “I don’t deserve you.”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “Sure you do. You deserve the world, Kitty Cat.”

It reminded her of her conversation with Alya from the night before, and that warmed her heart. Maybe things weren’t perfect — maybe her relationship with her mother would always be strained. But at least she had Alya for support for her Marinette problems, and Coccinello for her Kitty Noire problems.

But thinking about her relationship with Coccinello made some of those trains of thought careen back on track. She frowned. “Apparently… our relationship is forbidden, Cocci. Miracle stone wearers aren’t permitted to be romantically involved.”

He didn’t say anything, but this time — she knew — because he was mulling it over. Kitty elaborated in the silence. “But… he also told me he trusts us, whatever that means, and so he’s turning a blind eye for the moment, until we do something stupid, I guess.” Kitty hugged her knees to her chest, snuggled closer into Cocci’s side. What did “something stupid” entail? She remembered back to that day at the Arc de Triomphe, when the two of them had gotten together. Kitty had been afraid then of a relationship being a distraction in battle. But now that they had been together for some time, and knew how to handle battles with maximum efficiency, Kitty had thought her fears had been for nothing. All the monsters they fought were large and brutish, with nothing clever or fearsome about them. They were simple to trip up as long as she and Coccinello used the right technique. But now, with Fu’s warning, and all the secrets he’d kept from her… Kitty was beginning to wonder if she had a reason to fear after all. If there was something she didn’t know about yet.

But Coccinello just reached for her hand. “Well, fortunately I know exactly how to feel about all of this. We’re responsible. We won’t let that happen. He’s right to trust us.”

So Kitty Noire let it go. All of her pain and frustration, resentment and worry. If Coccinello was confident, then she would be too.

She squeezed the hand he’d reached for, her lips forming her first real smile of the day.

Kitty Noire flew home, determined to get to work on all of her stressors, because it wasn’t healthy for her to be as overwhelmed as she had been that afternoon. She detransformed into Marinette and started immediately, putting some gentle music on, blazing through her History of Modern Fashion reading, her assignments for all her other classes — including a write up for Chinese Mythology — and even getting to the next step for her swan hat.

She finalized the design, and even though she didn’t adore it, it was still good, and that was all she could ask for at this point. As she got her supplies together to create the bowler hat itself, Alya left the room to make dinner, and Plagg took that opportunity to emerge from his bed under Marinette’s.

“I thought you didn’t like that design,” he commented, and she sighed.

“I’m not crazy about it, but it will have to do,” she replied, not looking at him in her focus.

“…But isn’t it supposed to win a contest?”

She put her supplies down and gave him a look. “Yes. But I think I’ve given up trying to win. Bowler hats must not be my forte.”

Plagg scratched his head. “Why are you entering at all then?”

Marinette stopped and allowed herself to think about that. The concept that she could simply not do the contest hadn’t crossed her mind. “I’m not sure,” she finally told him.

Plagg floated over to her desk and put his paw on her hand, which was still holding a pair of scissors. “Then don’t do it. You’ve got enough on your plate right now. Maybe skip this contest and enter one you feel inspired for. It’s silly to submit a hat that even you wouldn’t choose to win.”

Marinette remembered her promise to take Plagg’s advice — and this advice certainly was logical, and it would help her mental health improve. One thing fewer on her plate. “Okay,” she agreed after a few moments. “I just… won’t do it, then.”

Plagg smiled proudly but as Marinette cleaned up her materials, her stomach pulled with shame. It wasn’t like her to give up, especially when it was something she knew she could do. Marinette was aware, deep inside herself, that she had the ability to make the most amazing bowler hat the Parisian Design House had ever seen, if only she could find the right bird.

So she added a condition to her promise. If inspiration struck — even for the swan — she’d go straight back to her sketchpad.

The next day, Marinette didn’t catch a single word of Professor Fu’s lecture. She was too busy scoping out her entire class. A part of her felt guilty doing it, knowing how upset she’d gotten yesterday just thinking about the reverse of the situation. But her curiosity was too strong to be resisted. She was dying to know who, among the fifty or so other college students that were in this room, was Coccinello?

She knew he had blond hair, and there were a handful of guys with blond hair that she could see. First was Sunflower Boy, and Marinette balked just thinking about it. Could Sunflower Boy be Coccinello?

She considered it for just a moment, and then put a lid on that consideration. Of course he couldn’t. Coccinello had a personality; Sunflower Boy didn’t. Coccinello was amazing and thoughtful and caring and… the list went on. Sunflower Boy was none of those things. And besides, he was already in a relationship with Chloé. Unless Coccinello was the kind of guy who would use his superhero identity to become a two-timer, which Marinette was 100% sure he wasn’t, then it was impossible.

She moved onto the rest of the class. Marinette didn’t particularly know the other blond students, and she imagined herself trying to make friends with them out of nowhere, and how odd that would seem to them. Unless one of them was Coccinello, then he’d know exactly what she was up to, and would also then realize that she had to be Kitty Noire.

Marinette broke out in a sweat just thinking about it. That option was out.

But what could she do? Sit in this classroom for the rest of the semester and never find out?

As she looked about some more, trying to lock eyes with any guy who even turned his head her way, trying to find those mirrors that would let her know what she was searching for, another thought hit her, and it filled her with dread. 

What if Coccinello wasn’t even blond at all? It was true that when Marinette was Kitty Noire, her hair became a more vibrant black, as if it, too, was charged with that magical electricity running through her blood. Was it too much of a stretch to assume the same probably happened to Coccinello?

She sighed in defeat. It was hopeless. Even in a room of fifty people, she still wasn’t any closer to finding him than she would be if every man in the entirety of Paris lined up on the block. She put her head on her desk and realized now why Coccinello still didn’t know her identity, after all this time of knowing she was right here. She truly understood now why he had said it didn’t make any difference.

But that didn’t change the fact that she had been in the dark. After class, Marinette went directly to Fu’s office hours.

“Back again so soon?”

She could only nod, her chest tight. Marinette closed the door behind her and took a seat in one of her professor’s guest chairs.

Fu immediately turned to give her his full attention. Marinette never sat.

“Is something wrong?”

She just nodded again, growing angry as she felt that telltale burning behind her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me everything?”

Professor Fu didn’t answer immediately. “Which everything are we discussing here?”

Marinette threw her hands up, frustrated. “Oh, I don’t know. Like, what a kwami even is, and why you entrusted me with one, and what I was expected to do and should know, and the fact that you owned not one, but two miracle stones, and that I’d have a partner to battle the monsters with, instead of being alone as I had assumed, and also the fact that said partner is in your class!” Marinette said in one big breath, the ends of words ramming into the beginnings of others, and mixing with the tears that turned her throat thick and made her even harder to comprehend. By the time she was finished, she was crying, and she wasn’t even sure if the professor had understood her, if he knew why she was angry.

Fu let her ride out her episode, and simply listened as Marinette sobbed quietly into her hands, letting loose all her pent-up emotion.

Once she was finished, and was running her arm over her eyes to dry them, the professor merely said, “I’m sorry.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he never did. “You’re sorry? That’s it?”

Fu sighed. “I don’t have a good excuse against your accusations, Marinette. I’m sorry I failed you. You’re right, I should have been more communicative. It has been so long since I’ve lent my miracle stones to other wielders, I’ve forgotten how to trust them. Your trust is invaluable to me, and I hope I didn’t lose it by failing to meet the standards you had come to expect of me.”

Marinette slouched deeper into the chair, trying to retain her anger, but it simply wasn’t there anymore. She still trusted Fu, he still had her high regard. “You didn’t. I just… want to know what you’re keeping from me.”
He smiled, nodding. “That’s a very reasonable request. From here on out, there will be no secrets between us.”

Was it really that easy? Had Marinette jumped to conclusions in thinking that Fu had kept her out of the loop purposely? “Well… if that’s the case, what does it mean for a hero to ‘go bad’?” she blurted, testing his promise.

“For some wielders, the prospect of magical power consumes them. They grow corrupted, they forget their mission to protect and serve, and instead turn their backs on the guardians. They become villains, in short.”

“Has it happened before? To a wielder you’d appointed?” Marinette’s resentment toward him vanished completely now; she was too enraptured in the information he was so willing to give her.

He shook his head gravely. “Not a wielder I’d chosen personally. But others, trusted by guardians before me.”

They both grew silent. Marinette tried to imagine herself turning her back on Fu and Coccinello, instead trying to discover how to exploit Plagg’s powers to make herself stronger… the images made her shiver. In no lifetime could she ever do it.

Fu guessed her thoughts. “You have been the wielder I’m most proud of, Marinette. Your strength and determination are something I admire daily.”

She ducked her head, blushing, searching for her humility. “You’re just trying to butter me up,” she accused, but it was without bite. All she could think about was that he probably didn’t feel that way about Coccinello.

“No, it’s the truth. Anything else on your mind?”

And he smiled when she said, “Hmm, just another hundred things.”

Once she left the humanities building, Marinette met Alya for lunch at the ChiCafé. They both sipped on their soup, happy for the extra warmth in the weather that was growing chillier by the day.

They chatted about their classes and other nothing topics when Alya brightened suddenly. “Oh, that’s right!”

“What happened?” Marinette asked, blowing on her spoon.

“So, I talked to Nino. It turns out that Adrien and Chloé are in fact not dating, but they used to.” Alya raised her eyebrows, waiting expectantly for a freak out.

But none came. Marinette shrugged dismissively. Adrien was the last person on Marinette’s mind these days, and she had no scruples telling Alya so.

Alya gawked. “Are you sure? You used to be crazy about this guy. Now you find out he’s actually been single this whole time and you’re not jumping at the chance to hop aboard that dreamboat?” She looked at her friend as if she had gone a little crazy.

Marinette laughed. “Oh, Alya. I never thought I’d hear you call Adrien a dreamboat. And as for that, it’s never going to happen. That boat left the harbor a long time ago. I wished it bon voyage and moved on with my life.”

Under other circumstances, Alya may not have believed Marinette; she may have thought her friend was simply acting strong, not wanting to go back to her old flame in case she got burned again. But as she watched Marinette calmly eat her soup, her expression complete contentment, she couldn’t help but smile with pride.

“Besides,” Marinette added, “Adrien and Chloé may have broken up, but they are clearly not over each other. You should have seen them that day.” She shot Alya a pointed look and Alya had to nod.

“You’re probably right. Still,” she sighed, “I can’t help but be disappointed. Nino and I had such high hopes for the two of you.”

Marinette put her spoon down and smiled at Alya. “It’s okay. I’m just happy Adrien is happy. I hope he and Chloé get back together soon.”

Alya’s eyes abruptly took on a steely glint. “Hmm. Let’s say… what if Adrien ended things with Chloé for real, and he asked you out? Would you keep this up or would you accept his offer?”

Marinette almost spit out her soup. Dang it, where was that out-of-town boyfriend she had said she’d make up? She was starting to think she was going to need him if she wanted to get her matchmaking friends off her back.

At the Parisian Design House, things weren’t much better. Mireille and Théo were bantering at the front desk — as they usually did — and they dragged Marinette into their debate — as they usually did.

“I mean, I hope this doesn’t mean they’re going to leave Paris, or stop being heroes, or whatever it could mean,” Mireille cried. “Wouldn’t that be awful? I love them!”

“But if there wasn’t more evil to fight, why would they hang around?” Théo argued.

“Marinette, what do you think?” Mireille jumped up when she saw her, physically pulling her by the arm to join in their conversation.

“What do I think about what?” she asked, although she could gather from context that it was a debate about herself and Coccinello.

“The news airing! Coccinello and Kitty Noire helped bring all the coma victims back! So I’m thinking the evil is gone, and it makes me happy, but also sad because that probably means Kitty and Cocci will go back to being regular people, and we won’t have superheroes anymore.” She pouted.

Marinette’s pulse spiked. Although she knew it wasn’t true, what would happen when they defeated the evil? She hadn’t ever considered it. Would she ever see Coccinello again?

“The evil is not gone. A new monster could pop up any minute now!” Théo countered.

Marinette nodded, momentarily relieved. As much as she hated it, it made her happy. She didn’t want to think about a future in which Coccinello was not her friend.

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, Marinette hadn’t realized both interns were staring at her expectantly. “Um… What do I think? I think… I think that I like the heroes and I want them to stay, but I’m not sure about anything else.” She put up her hands and feigned ignorance.

Théo grumbled. “Of course you want them to stay. Or should I say, you want Coccinello to,” he teased, crossing his arms.

Marinette grew pink; she tried not to but she couldn’t help herself. He wasn’t wrong… Then she straightened. Why was he saying it like that? Did he suspect?

But Mireille brushed away her concerns. “Duh, doesn’t every girl? And come on, Théo. I could say the same about you and Kitty Noire. Every guy in Paris dreams of getting some private time with her,” she poked him in the shoulder and he hid his face, but Mireille laughed, knowing he was blushing as well.

That image made Marinette grow incredibly uncomfortable, and she moved to leave when Mireille called her back.

“Oh, wait! I meant to ask, are you doing the hat contest?”

Marinette froze in her tracks. “I’m… not sure,” she fibbed, well aware that Plagg was listening in her purse.

“Well, you should! I know you’re a really talented designer! I can’t wait till mine is done! I’m going to do a swan! How beautiful and graceful will that be?” Her eyes swam with hearts but Marinette’s actual heart sank into her shoes.

Then Théo delivered an arguably more crushing blow. “I’m doing a penguin, for your information, Mireille. It will take the judges by storm. Unique because it’s flightless,” he bragged.

But Mireille just laughed at him. “If you wanted to pick a bird based solely on whether or not it could fly, you should have chosen the dodo. I’ve heard they were flightless, and it would suit you perfectly,” she stuck her tongue out and poked his forehead this time.

Théo swatted her away and Marinette took that as her cue to go, her heart heavy. So much for that. Mireille had taken her swan idea, and Théo’s penguin sounded absolutely brilliant. Now she might as well actually give up the contest — there was no way she could win after hearing about their designs. She could do the parrot, as her mother had suggested, but… Marinette interrupted that thought. It was no use now.

That night, Marinette tossed all her swan designs and filed her notebook back on her shelf. Her shoulders fell, but she told herself it was for the best. Now she could focus on more important things, like her grades, and being Kitty Noire, and now she could help Ronaldo some more with his crazy flamingo hat.

She knew she was just making excuses to help herself feel better, so she buried herself in more homework to avoid thinking about it. She had a quiz coming up for History of Modern Fashion and she had hardly studied.

It was close to 22:00 when her phone buzzed, and Marinette’s brow furrowed. Alya was sitting right at the desk next to hers. Who else would text her at this hour? Her parents were fast asleep.

She fished it out of her bag and nearly jumped out of her skin. It was from Fu.

“I have finished grading the assignment you turned in earlier today. Come by the Trocadero to get feedback on it. No need to bring your lucky charm,” it read, and Marinette had to look it over a few times before she realized it was in a sort of code. Their conversation about security measures came back to her, and then she realized what exactly her “lucky charm” was supposed to be.

She stood abruptly from her chair, and Alya turned to see what had her so tense all of a sudden.

Marinette’s mind raced, and she blabbered, “I… just realized I left something… at the Joe! Gotta hurry and get there quick before they close!” She laughed nervously, cringing at herself as she ran out of the room and down the stairs into the nearby alley.

Plagg materialized out of her purse, crossing his arms and giving her a look. “You know you didn’t even go to ‘the Joe’ today, right?” He made air quotes around her nickname for her workplace.

“Yeah, yeah, but not now! We have major business to attend to! Plagg, transform me!” she cried, anxious to get there. Professor Fu had an answer!

Once she was Kitty Noire, she launched herself out into the night. Fu had explicitly asked her not to bring Coccinello. Did that mean this was a secret discussion, between just the two of them? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

A few minutes later, though, she arrived at the Trocadero, and there Fu was, sitting on a bench, looking like any other Parisian enjoying themselves in the outdoors. Except for the fact that it was quite late, nothing seemed suspicious. 

And there, in the shadows, stood Coccinello.

Seeing him relieved Kitty Noire. She didn’t like secrets between them.

She landed at his side, and they walked together into the light from an overhead lamppost.

Fu looked up at last, expression unsurprised. “So. There’s something neither of you know about.”

Kitty Noire frowned in trepidation. 

“You both know that there are two miracle stones. The black cat and the ladybug; you know this because they are right here, in front of you, the rings on your fingers giving you these powers as we speak.”

Kitty Noire looked over at Coccinello’s hand, and noticed for the first time a ring, large and red, completely camouflaging itself in the red of his suit. She had no idea that the miracle stones were both rings. But what else would they be?

Fu continued. “Of course, what you don’t know, is that there are actually more than two. There are seven miracle stones in all.”

Both Kitty Noire and Coccinello started in shock. Kitty’s thoughts raced. Seven stones? So many more than she had conceived! And what other powers did they bring?

“I am a guardian, like three others, whose job it is to guard the miracle stones they possess with their life. To avoid risks, each guardian is allowed to carry no more than two miracle stones on their person at a time. My two stones, as you know, were the ones I entrusted you with. But there are three more guardians just like me, who could have chosen disciples to lend their powers to in order to combat this evil. Or, I should say, there were. Now there are but two.” Fu’s countenance darkened and Kitty Noire’s breathing sped up.

“Caline Bustier disappeared. I tried to contact her, and she did not answer, which was very unlike her. So I investigated the school at which she works, and found she had simply not returned to work one day. That day was around the time the first monster appeared in Paris.”

Coccinello looked down at the ground somberly. Kitty Noire’s stomach flipped. She was dreading Fu’s next words, she was afraid because she already knew what they would be.

“Then you brought me that feather, Kitty Noire, and I knew at once what had happened. You see, Mme. Bustier was the guardian of just one miracle stone; the peacock. And it is the peacock stone that uses these feathers. The wearer enchants what they pluck from their weapon, which is the fan. That feather melds itself into the back of the neck of whoever the wearer chooses — maybe an ally of theirs. The feather allows the peacock wielder to read their ally’s emotions, so that they can create a creature to fight for the ally, or defend them, or help them in some way. That creature is called a sentimonster. The two of you have been battling these sentimonsters this whole time, although I did not know that’s what they were until today.”

The heroes were silent. Kitty had so many questions, but she knew the professor wasn’t finished, so she waited.

“Ordinarily, that is what the peacock miracle stone allows one to do. However, these feathers are black, which means this miracle stone has been cursed. Its powers have been corrupted to do evil. Now, when the wielder melds their feathers into the necks of their allies — or in this case, those they have kidnapped to do their bidding — the sentimonster manifests around the person, instead of outside them, trapping the feather inside. It was very important that the two of you removed these cursed feathers from the victims. Now, whoever it is that is wielding this stone no longer has any influence over them.” With this, Fu gave his protégés a small smile.

“However, your work is far from over. What’s most important now is finding who has this miracle stone, and taking it back from them. At all costs this must be done,” he finished, this tone grave. 

Kitty Noire stared at her feet, her thoughts swimming. Her brain felt full, as if she could feel the weight of the new information bloating her mind. She put a clawed hand to her head. How were they going to find this person? How were they going to defeat them?

Chapter Text

It would be a gross understatement to claim that Kitty Noire was more than a little stressed by these revelations. She was completely frayed. Her nerves were shot.

The questions just spiraled around her head, day and night, haunting her in her dreams. Shaky figures, dark and looming, laughed at her in nightmares in which she failed to retrieve the stolen peacock miracle stone. Coccinello was no longer by her side, instead taken hostage by the forces of evil that she couldn’t even hope to defeat alone. What would she do without him? What would she do if he was taken?

Marinette awoke in a cold sweat, hyperventilating, from a particularly vivid dream in which the shaky figures demanded her miracle stone in exchange for Coccinello’s life. And without a second thought, she slipped off her ring, turning back into her civilian self, and handed it over. But they killed Coccinello anyway.

Marinette rolled over, not able to stop the tears from bursting forth, cascading silently down her cheeks. Plagg felt her unrest and gently rubbed his paws in her hair as he was wont to do when she needed to be comforted.

Haggard and exhausted, Kitty Noire nearly fell over on her patrol the next evening. Part of her was avoiding Coccinello, too terrified to see his face, to remind herself of the fine details, of the plane of his cheeks or the angle of his nose. Another part of her prayed silently that he would find her and hold her to himself, assure her that they really were just nightmares, just her own inadequacies preying upon her in her sleep.

She sat on a rooftop, her head in her hands, her eyelids struggling to stay open. The worst part of all of this was the fact that it was nearing two weeks since the last sentimonster attack. The Parisians were celebrating, heralding their heroes and speaking as though this was it, that the evil was gone. Even Coccinello would imply that he was sure the hardest part of this fight was over.

But Kitty knew better, and the rock in her stomach grew at each passing day without a new attack. Because this meant that the peacock owner must be biding their time. That they must be planning something even bigger, even stronger and more fearsome than Kitty Noire or Coccinello had ever seen. What they should have been doing was preparing themselves, not taking a vacation. But as one hour folded into the next, and Kitty didn’t see Coccinello anywhere, she shook her head in annoyance and assumed he wasn’t out scouting tonight because he was deluded that they were safe, just as the rest of this city was. 

Some fans waved at Kitty Noire from the street beneath her, so she waved back and gave them a tired smile. They continued on their way and in her sleepy haze, Kitty Noire thanked them for treating her like a normal human being.

Once it hit around 20:00, Kitty Noire headed home. She had made her rounds to all the usual places, but hadn’t run into Coccinello. She heaved a sigh and hopped between roofs, her mind wandering. 

She stopped at the banks of the Seine and watched the water ripple, trying to find that place inside her that would allow her to relax. The last time she had come to the river for solace was after their first fight, and when Kitty thought about it, it felt like years had passed since then. And yet, she still had the same fears, so perhaps it was no time at all.

As she stared at the water below her, Kitty Noire sensed some movement from above. A few buildings down, her red bug was yo-yoing toward her. Kitty couldn’t figure out whether to smile or frown.

He alighted on the roof, right next to her, squatting to look at her. She could only give him a weak lift of one lip corner.

His face fell. “What’s wrong, my kitten?”

She didn’t meet his eyes, just continued to track the small ripples of the Seine, trying to discern the sounds of fish swimming in its depths. “I had a nightmare.”

Coccinello put an arm around her, nuzzling close. “It’ll be alright, Kitty Cat. I can feel it. We’re a strong team.”

Kitty Noire didn’t lean into him, but she didn’t push him away. Was he right? Perhaps. But was she as strong alone as they were together? Would she be able to save him?

Coccinello ran the tip of his nose along the top of her human ear. She almost relaxed into his touch when someone below cat-called and pointed up at them.

“Check it out!” they exclaimed, calling to friends, who raised their phones and shouted up to the heroes.

Kitty Noire’s frayed nerves began to snap. She shoved Coccinello’s face away from her, got up, and ran away, somewhere else, far from these people. Maybe even far from Coccinello.

He followed her, hopping along the rooftops in her trail, and she finally stopped at a familiar place they hadn’t been to in almost as long. The warehouse where Coccinello had taken Kitty after their first failure. Just as it was then, it was deserted. Kitty rested against a railing, her back to Coccinello.

“This is about more than just a nightmare, Kitty. Be honest with me.”

Kitty Noire’s shoulders dropped, sighing at his perceptiveness. 

He moved closer, put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, her mind beginning to spin. Maybe this was all wrong. Maybe Coccinello was better without her. If she wasn’t able to save him, maybe her proximity to him was dangerous. It excited their fans too much, which made her angry, made her irrational. And those were not good states to be in on the battlefield.

“Kitty…” he breathed out, imploring her to confide in him.

“I just don’t think you’re aware of how serious this all is,” she finally answered.

“Of course I am!” His reply was immediate. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you don’t patrol as often anymore. That you make jokes that we’re out of the woods. But these sentimonsters are just the tip of the iceberg.”

Coccinello inhaled deeply. “I’m just not sure why you think that. Clearly the feathers thwarted our enemy in a big way, and that’s awesome. But the miracle stones have one power each. It’s not like they can do anything more than what they’ve been doing! They make sentimonsters, and we know how to fight those sentimonsters. That’s all there is to it! You’re just tying yourself up in a knot for no reason!” 

Kitty Noire listened to him, his tone rising as he went on, she fighting the tears that threatened her as they always seemed to do these days. But when he finished, her rage began to grow unchecked.

No reason? No reason?! she boggled, breathless. Of course there was reason! How could he not see it? This — what was happening between them — was dangerous, and it would ruin them in the end. She understood now what Fu had meant when he told her hero relationships were forbidden. Because she knew that if she got cornered, as she had in her nightmare, there was only one choice she would make, and it would be detrimental to all of them.

So she lashed out. “You don’t understand anything! Otherwise you’d be as afraid as I am! I just — I can’t, Cocci. I can’t do this anymore!” she cried, holding her throbbing head between her hands, and as those words came out, she realized she had known that it would come to this.

Coccinello’s eyes widened in the beginnings of fear, but he wouldn’t let himself believe her words yet. “What… What do you mean? Can’t do what, anymore?”

“This!” she shouted, gesturing madly between the two of them. “Us! It’s all wrong, Cocci! We’re breaking the rules, and… it’s unprofessional. We should be coworkers and nothing more.” She looked away, trying to choke back the tears but failing. She hated the words as she said them. She knew she was breaking his heart, and her own, that she was the one doing this to them, and no one else. It was almost unbearable; she wanted to take them back as soon as they were said, but the images of his beaten and bloody body, the echoes of his screams of agony, all of them implored her that this was the only choice to make. She had to do it for him, for them both, for the miracle stones.

Coccinello was silent for a moment, his own eyes beginning to glaze over, although Kitty couldn’t see them due to her averted gaze. “I thought… I thought we had an understanding,” he told her, and it was so empty, as if he knew it was useless to try and change her mind, but he had to try, he had to do something to keep this terrible thing from becoming their reality.

“We did,” Kitty replied instantly, and it came out much harsher than she had intended it. She extended her baton and called over her shoulder, “but I need to focus,” and she launched herself into the distance, as far as possible, letting him know with her body language not to follow this time.

In her desperate need to leave, she didn’t see that her body language was unnecessary. Coccinello fell to his knees as he watched her go, holding himself, as if that would keep him from breaking.

In her room, Marinette buried herself in studying for History of Modern Fashion, the music blaring so loud in her earbuds, Plagg could hear it from under her bed. But even the loudest setting wasn’t loud enough to keep her from feeling the guilt and shame that was eating her alive.

Alya’s sexy Coccinello calendar still hung there, between their desks, taunting Marinette. Laughing at her. As if she could forget about her boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself) that easily. 

Marinette closed her laptop abruptly, yanking the earbuds out of her ears. “Plagg,” she whispered, but not because she was afraid someone would hear. It was a whisper because she didn’t have the emotional energy to do more.

Her kwami heard her anyway, as she knew he would, and he tentatively floated over to her desk. “Yes?”

“Did I do the right thing?” she asked, the sound muffled, as her face was in her arms, her mouth speaking into the wood of her desk.

It was a loaded question, and Plagg squirmed, saying nothing.

Marinette knew what his hesitation meant; she hadn’t really expected an answer, after all. She turned her head to the side, so that she could see Plagg but stay on the pillow that her arms were at the moment. They regarded one another sadly for a long while, when Marinette breathed out, “Why did Fu trust me? I’m such a wreck with this miracle stone business. All I’ve done is make a mess of things, time and time again.”

This question was one Plagg could answer, and he floated closer to her in his excitement to reassure her. “You were an excellent choice, Marinette. I understand the professor perfectly. The way I see it is that you have so many responsibilities and yet you’re able to juggle them all without snapping. You have a strong character and I think he could see that you wouldn’t break under the pressure. I will defend his choice until the ends of this Earth,” Plagg gave her a genuine smile, so Marinette had to at least try to smile back. Her attempt was only a weak grimace, but Plagg understood her.

She sighed. “I see where he’s coming from. But at the same time, if I’m already under pressure, adding more wouldn’t be the solution I’d think of.”

The two of them stayed like that for many minutes. Marinette tried not to spiral in her thoughts, but that guilt and shame demanded to be confronted, and Marinette could only resist for so long.

Plagg interrupted her rumination. “…It’s possible that you were a little rude to Coccinello. He deserved an explanation. Instead you yelled at him and left him there all alone. I’m sure he thinks you hate him right now, but I know that’s not the case. I know you did it because you care for him. But he doesn’t know that.”

The guilt and shame clawed at her edges, laughed at the pain those words caused her. Coccinello, thinking she hated him? How awful! She exhaled in horror, her brows knitting together in worry. “You really think so?” she echoed.

Plagg merely nodded. 

Marinette started to cry, holding nothing back. She sobbed into her arms, and Plagg hovered for a moment, his ears and whiskers drooping, before going to comfort her.

“You should talk to him,” he suggested as he leaned near her ear, petting her hair there.

Marinette nodded fiercely, trying to still her sobs so that she could speak. “But not tonight,” she hiccuped. “I know I’ll just explode again. I need a little time to plan what I’ll say. Then I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

Plagg assured her with his silence that that was a good plan.

Marinette’s tears were dry and she blankly stared at the cursor blinking at her, her focus far from the notes she was supposed to be taking.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, which startled her, because Alya was on another “Date Night” tonight, and it was far too early for her to have returned.

Marinette got up from her desk, Plagg darting back beneath her bed, and opened the door warily.

Mylène was on the other side, and Marinette immediately brightened. 

“Hey, Marinette. Since Alya’s out tonight, we figured you might be a little bored or lonely. Juleka and I are gonna watch a movie. Wanna join?”

A movie. So simple. The perfect escape from her misery. “Absolutely,” she smiled to her roommate, grabbing a blanket before following them to the couch.

Juleka grabbed the remote and put on a comedy, and they all snuggled in together, chuckling at different parts, guffawing at the same parts, and overall de-stressing from their responsibilities. It was nice to forget about being Kitty Noire for one night.

Although Marinette didn’t sleep well, she slept better than she had been for the previous weeks, (probably because the exhaustion had finally caught up to her) and she awoke feeling a little more refreshed than she was used to. That was good. She was going to need her wits about her tonight when she apologized and explained to Coccinello.

She squirmed as she brushed her teeth. Did he really think she hated him? She hoped desperately that he knew her well enough to understand her. To know that she could never hate him, and that their breakup really had very little to do with him at all.

A part of her bubbled with hope that maybe they would get back together after they sorted things out, but she pushed that down immediately. Under no circumstances could she and Coccinello get back together. It was safer this way. The distance was necessary. 

But Marinette’s stomach still twisted in unease as she rinsed and spit. Nothing was ever simple.

Class was a drag today. Marinette willed herself to at least make an attempt at focusing, but watching Professor Fu lecture just reminded Marinette that she was Kitty Noire. And sitting in that classroom, knowing that somewhere in the many rows of students around her, listening and diligently taking notes, sat a boy just as heartbroken as she was, made it all the worse. 

As class progressed, Marinette couldn’t help but notice one thing was very different. Sunflower Boy hadn’t raised his hand nearly as much as he usually did. His silence bothered her, even though she tried to ignore it. So what if Sunflower Boy’s perpetual happiness was interrupted? It was about time. His peppiness was annoying.

Inside herself, she knew those things weren’t true. Just the resentment of a scorned heart. She considered talking to him, but almost laughed at herself. Like she was in any position to cheer someone up. Especially Sunflower Boy.

Class came to an end a minute early, so Marinette took a little extra time packing up, unable to summon the energy to rush off to History of Modern Fashion, even though getting in a little extra studying before the quiz would do her good.

Her dawdling led to something very unexpected; a hand on her shoulder. Marinette jumped in shock at the contact, coming face to face with…

“Adrien?” she breathed.

“Hey, Marinette.” He waved, but she could see his heart wasn’t in it. Poor guy. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Her heart went out to him. Was he okay?

“Did you… need something?” Marinette asked, brows raising in concern without her permission. She still wanted to be angry at him, but seeing his sad face, she just couldn’t find it in herself. She let her anger go.

“I was just remembering,” he replied, his hand flying to the back of his neck in nervousness. He gestured for them to head out of the classroom and she followed him down the hallway, walking with him to the next building. “You were going to tell me something important the other day, but you never got a chance to. What was it?”

Marinette’s color spiked and her head whipped to look at him. Was he really asking this, now? What could she say? She certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth. Besides, her feelings for him were irrelevant now that she was with Coccinello. Or… not? She pushed those thoughts out of her head, but not before her stomach flipped with anxiety once more. She really, really needed to talk to that boy.

“Oh, it was nothing,” she waved dismissively. But when she glanced back over to him, his face had fallen in disappointment. She recognized that look. He obviously didn’t believe her.

“Um,” Marinette casted about, hating that she could be so moved by his dejection. “It was that… I…” she searched her brain for something that wouldn’t give her away. Because there was no chance she was going to admit that she had had feelings for Gabriel Agreste’s son.

Like a lightning bolt the answer struck. She turned to him with sudden excitement. “I found out that your father is a designer!” she said with a smile. “No wonder you know so much about fashion! I was starting to go crazy wondering why you were so impressed that I made my own clothes,” she added, and that part was certainly no lie.

“Oh!” Adrien brightened. “Yeah, I guess I assumed everyone knew that. But it makes me feel kind of happy that you didn’t — good to know my last name doesn’t precede me anymore.” He stopped for a moment, realizing what he just said. “Not that I’m happy you were going crazy!” He waved his hands in apology, his face shifting into one of sincerity. “I wish I had known so that I could have spared you that confusion!” 

And his apology was so genuine that Marinette stopped walking, just stood there looking at him. There was no way this was the same boy who had led her on, was it?

Adrien stopped walking, too, when he noticed she had done so. He regarded her curiously, trying to read her, but unable. 

His expression was so open that a part of Marinette’s heart nearly reconsidered. Adrien was actually just as sweet as she had originally thought. And it turned out he wasn’t even with Chloé. He was single, she was single…

Marinette shook her head and continued walking, stopping those thoughts in their tracks. It was as she had said to Alya. That boat left the harbor. She and Adrien would never happen. Besides, he probably still loved Chloé, regardless of their currently off status. And her heart still belonged to Coccinello, even if she had broken up with him. That was why she had broken up with him at all.

So she just smiled at Adrien, even though it wasn’t a genuine smile, and told him, “Don’t worry about it. It’s all in the past now.”

They waved amicably and Marinette sat down at her next class, her chest feeling a little lighter. As she pulled out her pencils, she realized she had really meant it. She and Adrien were history, but so was any animosity she had been carrying with her. She would sort out things with Coccinello, and no matter how that went, she knew she could always continue to be Adrien’s friend, without worrying about endangering her heart any longer.

Marinette clocked in the same way she did for every shift at Sloppy Joe’s. She grabbed an apron, tied up her hair, and opened the door to the locker room, the steps so methodic, so typical, as to be drilled into her muscles, without needing another thought.

But as her eyes landed on her locker, she froze, her routine thrown.

Because her locker had been opened. The door was just the slightest bit ajar.

She hadn’t left it like that; she specifically remembered locking it before leaving the last time she had been here. Marinette’s heart pounded in her ears as she rushed to open it, checking to make sure nothing was missing, even though all she kept in it was her spare uniform in case grease spilled on the one she was wearing.

Her shirt wasn’t folded the exact way that she remembered it being, but she wouldn’t have noticed that if she hadn’t already been ticked off by the open locker.

Someone had rummaged in her things.

Overcome by nausea, Marinette sunk to her knees on the floor, holding the shirt and cap to herself, unsure what to do. Plagg poked out of her bag and regarded her silently.

“There are only a few other girls who work here, Plagg,” she whispered. Who could have been the one to do it? Marinette knew Aurore and Lila pretty well, it couldn’t have been them. Maybe one of the other girls she worked with less often?

Nothing was missing or damaged, Marinette reminded herself, but it didn’t change how violated she felt as she replaced her items and closed her locker door tightly. She knew she needed to get out there and begin working — she had only come in here to adjust her cap, after all — but she couldn’t move from her position on the floor.

“Who would do this to me? And what were they hoping to find?” she voiced aloud, finally letting her eyes settle on Plagg. 

He gave her a cheeky smile to cheer her up. “Well, whatever they were looking for, they didn’t get it! So, hah!”

But Marinette just stared at the closed locker, knowing her purse was now behind it. “But what if they try again?”

The locker room door abruptly opened. Plagg darted away and Marinette, startled, stood up as fast as she could, instinctively needing to not be discovered wallowing on the grimy floor.

It was Aurore. She smiled at Marinette and turned to her own locker, opening it and putting her cap away, pulling out her stylish tote. Marinette narrowed her eyes. She knew Aurore worked for the news station, as the new weather girl. She was probably getting a handsome check from them for doing so, so she would have no reason to break into Marinette’s things. Would she?

“Aurore,” Marinette squeaked, before she could back out. 

The girl looked behind her as she locked her own locker. “Yeah?”

“Um, someone… broke into my locker. Do you have any idea who it could have been?” Marinette felt silly as she said it. If Aurore was the guilty party, she wasn’t going to confess. That would be illogical.

But Aurore frowned. “I’m not sure. When did it happen?”

“Between yesterday afternoon and right now.”

“Hmm. I wasn’t here at all yesterday. But you can check the schedule up on the board. That could help you narrow it down. I think you should let the boss know, because that’s not okay.”

Marinette nodded. “Thank you!”

Aurore smiled sadly down at Marinette. “Good luck!”

When she left, Marinette put her cap on in the mirror and went out to the floor, turning toward the time clock to scan the schedule for yesterday before she did so.

There was only one female employee scheduled for yesterday’s closing shift. Marinette nearly choked as she read the name. Lila.

Marinette floated through her shift like a ghost. Lila was closing again today, so Marinette would leave before she came on. That meant she wasn’t able to confront her friend. What reason would she have for rummaging in someone else’s things? It spun around Marinette’s brain, made her second guess herself. Was Lila really a friend if she did something like that?

In her distraction, Marinette accidentally scooped fries into an onion ring order, and nearly got her ear chewed off by her boss when the customer complained.

“Sorry,” she apologized when he questioned her abstraction. “I’m just a little thrown by the break-in,” she explained, including her suspicion of the identity of the culprit. 

But he shot her down. “Lila called in sick last night, so she wasn’t at work at all. But I’ll give the security footage a look.”

That made Marinette all kinds of uncomfortable. Which of her male coworkers would sneak into the ladies’ locker room just to snoop in her stuff?

As Marinette hung up her apron at the end of her shift, still no closer to the answer, she was startled to see Lila walking toward her. What was she doing here so early?

“Hi, Marinette,” Lila waved, smiling companionably as she always did. 

Marinette fidgeted. Should she ask Lila about the break-in? But she hadn’t even been here, what would she know?

She hesitated. Lila was about to enter the locker room when Marinette turned to face her. “Lila, you wouldn’t happen to know about someone busting into my locker, would you?” she asked, the question tumbling out in one big breath.

Lila’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “Oh! Yeah!”

Marinette’s eyes snapped up to look into Lila’s, shocked.

Lila’s expression shifted from surprise to abashment. “It was me. I left something in my locker after my shift the other day, and I came in to grab it even though I was feeling really sick. In my haze, I accidentally mistook your locker for mine, but I realized pretty fast that I’d made a mistake when I found your stuff in there instead of mine! Sorry if you were worried!” Lila’s eyes grew in fear, her hands twisting together with nerves.

She seemed so shaken up that Marinette believed her, without a doubt. Her story sounded off, but Marinette didn’t have a reason to suspect her of deceit. Innocent people made honest mistakes all the time. Lila would never do anything to intentionally hurt her friend.

So she forgave her. “Don’t worry about it! We all get forgetful. I understand.”

Lila deflated with relief. “Oh, Marinette, thank you. I got so worried that you were going to report me or something! I would hate to lose this job after I’ve made so many good friends here,” she smiled brightly, and Marinette smiled back.

“It would take a lot more than that to upset me,” Marinette responded, and Lila surprised Marinette by hugging her.

“You’re the best,” Lila squeezed her, and Marinette patted her friend’s back in return. 

They parted with a friendly wave and Marinette thanked her lucky stars that it was just a misunderstanding. She had enough on her plate already.

She left her workplace with a smile on her face, ready to head back home. As the employee exit door closed behind her, Marinette’s phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and her happy mood deflated. “Maman” was the caller ID.

Last time they’d spoken, her mother had brought up Marinette’s strange distance, the fact that they weren’t as emotionally close as they’d been just a few months ago. She couldn’t answer this call now — she wasn’t ready to face another round of guilt and frustration. 

Marinette had never kept a secret from her mother before, and it was eating at her. She was dying to detail every fight, every rooftop patrol, every Coccinello date, every joke with Plagg… but she couldn’t. She knew that more assuredly than anything.

But still, her hand itched to press the green “accept” button, tried to convince herself that it wasn’t really such a big deal. Her mom was trustworthy, she was the only person Marinette could confide in…

The zipping sound of a yo-yo grappling above her saved her from this decision. Because there was someone she needed to apologize to, someone who was her top priority at the moment.

Marinette let the call go to voicemail before ducking behind a tourist map and opening her purse. Plagg looked up at her, nodding solemnly. Marinette gave him a small nod back before calling, “Plagg, transform me!”

Kitty Noire vaulted up onto the closest building, bounding after her partner. Her heart raced as fast as she did, as if getting to him was the only thing she knew how to do.

She could see him far ahead of her, a small red dot traveling just a bit slower than she was. She picked up the pace, her need to eclipse him growing the longer she chased him.

“Cocci!” she shouted when he was in hearing range, trying to get him to stop, not wanting to startle him. He was startled anyway, turning to meet her voice, his mirror eyes so full of hope it nearly broke her heart a second time.

Coccinello stood frozen, only able to watch her close the distance between them, his mouth slightly agape. Kitty’s feet touched down in front of him and she lost her breath. What was the speech she had prepared? How did it begin? What did it cover? Her thoughts swirled together, unable to sit still as the guilt overcame her once more. But she had to start somewhere.

“Can… we talk?” she began, and it wasn’t eloquent or sweet, or any of the things she had originally planned it to be. 

Coccinello merely shrugged, his eyes falling to his feet. He tried to hide the anguish that was written so clearly on his features, and that hurt Kitty all the more. As they hopped silently to yesterday’s warehouse, intrusive thoughts burst in on Kitty Noire’s concentration. What if Coccinello was too hurt to forgive her? What if he didn’t understand her motives, even when she explained them? What if instead of him thinking she hated him… what if he actually hated her?

Her heart hammered in her chest and her hands shook with fear. She told herself to be strong, that this was important, that she would lose him forever if she didn’t do this. 

And yet she couldn’t help but ask herself whether or not she had already lost him by doing this.

Their feet hit the roof at the same time, the echo fading into nothing as they stood, Kitty’s back to him, just as they had yesterday. The familiarity of the scene made Kitty Noire sick, and she reeled as she wondered whether or not she could actually go through with this.

But she clenched the fists at her sides and took a breath. She would have to. She turned to face him and opened with, “Hey, I’m sorry. We should talk about this. I shouldn’t have run out on you like that yesterday. I feel terribly.” It was just as she had rehearsed it. Just as she had planned to say it, and that made it safer, easier somehow. 

Coccinello didn’t move his gaze, his mouth resting in a hard line. Kitty could tell he was mad at her; but his body language also betrayed his sorrow.

Kitty Noire wrung her hands. This was going to go downhill fast, but she had to keep going. “I need to explain myself. I realize I didn’t tell you my motives for doing what I did, and you deserve better than that. I know that my feelings for you hinder me on the battlefield. And I can’t risk that happening again in case another foe strikes.” She took a breath, measured and deep. Waited for him to speak.

Coccinello looked up from his shoes, his lips now molded into a frown. A sad frown, a hurt frown. One that was trying its very best to keep his tears at bay. 

The seconds went by, agonizingly slow. Kitty Noire opened her mouth to implore him to please say something, when he finally spoke.

“But I thought it was making us a stronger team,” he breathed, so low the wind could have stolen it. But there was no wind; the air was holding its breath just as Kitty was, and so she could hear him perfectly. “Having such a strong bond, you know… I thought you felt it too. That caring for each other made us better partners.” He concluded after another hesitation.

“It did!” Kitty Noire exclaimed, almost before he had finished.

Coccinello looked up at the fading light on the horizon. The days were getting shorter as autumn began to melt into winter. Kitty almost implored Coccinello to reply again, but she waited just a moment longer, and what he did say froze the blood running in her veins. 

“I just never imagined that would be the reason you would stop caring for me.”

Kitty Noire’s brain struggled to understand this, to find the words to fix this gross error. Stop caring? Was this what Coccinello thought of her? 

“What? I didn’t!” she cried, and when he met her eyes in confusion, she realized she had to continue, had to explain to him that he couldn’t be further from the truth, and she had to do it now, and fast, otherwise he might never believe her. “Stop caring for you, I mean. I always have, Cocci. Of course I care for you, what… why would you say something like that?” It came out jumbled, one thought ramming into the next, trying to get itself out, to be understood. Why did Kitty feel like she was running out of time?

Coccinello’s hands flew up to pull on his shaggy blond hair. “I don’t know!” he shouted, his tone toeing the line between irritation and anger. “Because you ended things, maybe?”

Kitty Noire’s face fell, her eyes beginning to scrunch up. This was all wrong, all wrong! They were supposed to be talking like adults, reaching an understanding, agreeing mutually that it was for the best. Instead, Kitty could feel it all falling apart, as if their friendship was like sand in her hands, dissolving between her fingers with no way to stop it. She tried to use her body instead of words, reaching out her hand to touch his shoulder, to let him know she was still here, still cared for him more than anything — that’s why she was doing this after all! But he flinched away, turned his body from her before her fingertips could make contact. Kitty pulled back as if she had been burned.

He crossed his arms over the railing, resting himself against it, looking out at the Parisian sunset, ignoring his partner. 

Kitty Noire’s stomach settled at the bottom of her shoes. “Cocci…” she breathed. “I’m not very good at this. What I’m trying to say is… that I care about you very much. I hate this, this animosity between us. I want to see you happy.” She hesitated, staring at his unmoved figure.

She took a step closer, resting her palm on his shoulder blade, testing to see if he would shake her off. He stiffened but allowed her to remain there. Him letting her in just that small bit gave her the courage to continue. She knew what she had to say; she had known it for a long time now. It was the reason for her paralyzing fear, her desperate need to keep him safe. She took a steadying breath. “Just because I ended things doesn’t mean…” she trailed off, trying to see into his face from where she stood. His back quivered beneath her and she forced herself to continue. He had to know, no matter how things went. He needed to know. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

She dropped her hand from his shoulder blade, her gaze falling to her feet, to the heels of his. There. It was said. No matter what came next, at least he knew that.

Coccinello’s head turned to look over his shoulder at her. “It doesn’t?” he echoed in disbelief.

Kitty’s eyes snapped up to meet his, her head shaking vigorously. “Of course not!” she tried to exclaim, but the words got choked in her throat, her eyes beginning to well up.

Coccinello suddenly turned his whole body to face hers, his arms reaching out beneath hers to pull her closer to him, his hands holding her elbows. Kitty gazed up into his mirror eyes, dazed at this sudden change. 

His eyes flicked back and forth, desperately searching her own, trying to find where it was that he had gone wrong. “Then why are you trying to push us apart?” he asked, his voice cracking with grief.

Kitty Noire buried her face in Coccinello’s chest, her anguish overwhelming her, the dam behind her eyes breaking, letting loose the tears she’d wanted to cry all day. “I’m not!” she protested. “Well, I am,” she amended, shaking her head at her own folly, “but I don’t know what else to do! I’ve seen you dead in my dreams, Coccinello! They’ve taken you from me, and I’m powerless to stop them! I won’t let them use our love against us…” she whimpered through her tears. “I couldn’t bear it if I lost you because of it,” she added in a whisper.

Coccinello sighed, his eyebrows pulling together in a final understanding of her motives, agonized that he could have thought anything less of her. Kitty Noire’s loud sobs racked her body against his, and as Coccinello tightened his arms around her, holding her close, she didn’t see the silent tears spill over and roll down his own cheeks. They fell into her midnight hair, and Coccinello brought a hand up to brush them away, to pet her head comfortingly, and bent to press a wet kiss to the top of her crown.

They held one another until the sun had long departed from the Parisian sky, until Kitty Noire’s sobs had faded into even breaths, until Coccinello rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek, entreating her to finally look up at him.

When she did, she saw the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Why didn’t you just tell me that before? If I don’t know what you’re thinking, I can’t help us try and resolve it.” He said it so gently, and so sweetly, that Kitty was swallowed up in her relief.

All that echoed in her head was the joyous proclamation that he did not hate her, that he didn’t think she hated him, either; that she hadn’t lost him to her own fear, and that no matter the technicalities, he was hers. He wanted to help her, to try and fix things. It was like music.

And so, without thinking of the repercussions, Kitty Noire did the one thing she promised herself she wouldn’t do tonight. 

She put her hands on either side of Coccinello’s face, leaned in, and kissed him.

Coccinello responded to her instantly, holding her ever closer, and so Kitty lost herself in kissing him, the time standing still around her as she threaded her fingers in his lovely blond mop. Or perhaps time raced, folding in on itself, trapping them in a moment that was nothing but sensation.

When the moment came to an end, and Kitty Noire pulled away to look back into her love’s sky blue eyes, she was surprised to see a playful smile dancing beneath them.

Coccinello caressed her cheek with his thumb, then bent his head so that his lips grazed her ear, and as Kitty Noire’s eyelids fluttered in delight, he whispered, low and gravelly, “In case it wasn’t already clear, I love you, too, Kitty Cat.”

Chapter Text

Back at the apartment, Alya was gone for the night — spending it at Nino’s — so Marinette laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling, a dreamy, lovesick expression smeared all over her features. She clutched her pillow to her chest, and Plagg sighed to himself, diving into the Cheese-Itz box. It was all too mushy for him to handle.

“Can you believe it…? Coccinello loves me…” she murmured.

Plagg crunched on a cracker and decided this had gone far enough. “Marinette… you are aware that nothing has actually changed, right?”

That broke her out of her trance. She rolled over onto her side and peered at him. “What do you mean?” she asked, and it was still a little faraway, her tone not as serious as it should have been.

“I mean,” Plagg responded crossly, floating up into her face and gesturing heatedly, “the reason you broke up with Coccinello? Because hero relationships are dangerous? Does that ring a bell? Yeah, they still are, by the way. And getting back together did not solve the problem. The two of you are putting yourselves just as much at risk now as you were yesterday.”

All of Marinette’s elation came crashing down around her head. How had she been able to forget that? Coccinello was so important to her that she had almost lost herself in the idea that she had lost him. But Plagg was right. Nothing had changed. Not really.

Marinette groaned and put the pillow over her head. In a quiet voice, devoid of all previous jubilation, she asked her kwami, “What do you suggest?”

Plagg thought about that for a moment, and Marinette saw the look in his eyes. She interrupted before he could speak.

“Because the truth is, I’m not sure I can continue to be an effective superhero if I lose Coccinello. I’ll be so distracted by the fact that we’re no longer together, and if there are hard feelings, I’ll be a total wreck on the battlefield. I was a total wreck for all of today, and there wasn’t even a sentimonster. Can you imagine what a disaster that would have been?”

Plagg’s expression grew uncomfortable. He was aware that Marinette was also right, that they needed to find a solution less black and white. But both of them stayed as they were, their minds racing, trying to come up with the perfect way to deal with this situation, but if the silence was anything to go by, they were both stuck at square one.

Marinette rubbed her temples, sitting up in bed so as to think more clearly. How in the world could they do this? How could she and Coccinello stay together, in a way separate from their battles, so that they could be safe? Because what they were doing now was not working, but ending things altogether was simply not an option Marinette was willing to consider.

Marinette’s phone buzzed, and she lurched for it, automatically assuming it was Fu. Her face fell when it was just a notification that some apps needed to be updated. But when Marinette’s eyes fell on the time, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Plagg, it’s almost 01:00! We need to solve this problem tomorrow!” And she turned out the lights and tried to go to sleep as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately for Marinette, she didn’t have another chance to figure it out, because first thing in the morning, as she sat at the dining table, trying to wake up over her yogurt, her phone blipped, and her heart nearly fell out of her chest, because it had been almost two weeks since she had heard that telltale blip.

She couldn’t pull her phone out fast enough. 

“Nadja Chamack on the scene at the Louvre museum. A monster is currently on the rampage! But this is no ordinary monster! It seems to be making demands!”

Marinette choked as the camera focused on the sentimonster. It was like nothing she’d seen before. It looked so… humanlike. Had Marinette not already known there was someone trapped in there, she would have no choice but to come to that conclusion now. It was almost as if the sentimonster was the armor the possessed person was wearing. She seemed to be a living tulip. The flower was her head, and the rest of her body, including her limbs, were long, thorny vines, twisting and braiding into each other to protect herself. 

But that wasn’t all. As the camera came closer to the sentimonster, it opened its mouth and spoke! “Coccinello! Kitty Noire! Come and fight me, before my patience wears out!”

“It appears the heroes aren’t on the scene yet! Will they get here in time?” Nadja narrated, the camera back on her.

Marinette shoveled the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, shaking her head. “It’s 07:00!” She ran to the kitchen to put her spoon in the dishwasher, and got dressed as fast as possible, trying not to think about her conversation with Plagg last night, trying not to let her stomach pool with dread.

In moments, she was Kitty Noire, leaping across rooftops, racing to the museum. Her thoughts were racing just as quickly. This monster was new. Would their unlucky charm still work?

In her distraction, she didn’t notice Coccinello until he yo-yoed right past her, calling, “Need a ride, my love?”

Seeing him made her forget her concerns. Kitty tried not to turn into a puddle as Coccinello alighted right beside her, pulling her flush against him, his arm snaking around her waist. She wrapped her own arms around his broad frame, and Coccinello gave the tip of her nose a small kiss before launching them forward, flying toward their latest adversary.

But as the museum grew closer, Kitty had to shake her head to remind herself to focus. This sentimonster was a big deal. Clearly, the owner of the peacock miracle stone had been biding their time for a reason; to unleash something previously unseen. Kitty Noire’s smile slipped off entirely.

When they reached their destination, Kitty Noire’s stomach fell out. The sentimonster was much bigger than she had appeared in the news footage. Kitty had assumed she was as tall as a regular human — but her stature in person was close to eight feet.

Coccinello’s feet touched down on an adjacent rooftop. He loosened his grip on Kitty’s waist and she just stared at their enemy, mind reeling.

“Kitty Cat,” Coccinello cooed. “It’s gonna be fine. So she’s strong. We can handle it. Let’s face it, those old sentimonsters were child’s play. I’m looking forward to an actual challenge.” He cracked his fingers and stretched, his eyes closed in cocky confidence.

Kitty Noire just looked at her feet, not sharing it. “Part of me agrees with you. But there are lives at stake. I can’t help but feel I’d rather fight easy adversaries if it meant everyone turned out okay. I’m nervous to screw this one up, too.” The last sentence was said quietly, much more quietly than the rest, almost as if she was telling it to herself.

Coccinello’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “You won’t screw this up. I promise. I’ll be here to help you. We’re a team, remember?”

Kitty Noire met his eyes and almost agreed, but her past wouldn’t allow her to. Her eyes fell back to their shoes. “But Mme. Renault…?”

Coccinello shook his head, as if there was to be no more talk on that topic. “We were inexperienced. How many times have we failed since then? Let’s just follow what we know, what we’ve become amazing at. I promise you that it will be just like every other time we’ve succeeded.”

Kitty Noire wasn’t convinced, but she nodded all the same. They didn’t have a choice, in the end, regardless of her apprehension. 

She pulled out her baton and elongated it, giving Cocci a curt nod. He smiled at her, nodding back, and with that, they jumped off in opposite directions, preparing to scope their enemy out. 

But the flower sentimonster surprised Kitty by knowing exactly what she was about to do. As Kitty Noire was near to landing, the sentimonster threw out her arm vines, which seemed to extend impossibly long, and Kitty had to lean all her weight to the side to dodge the attack.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. Already she was starting to feel like she was in over her head. 

The sentimonster’s vines returned to herself, and she laughed, and it was bone-chilling.

“You two think you’re so smart, do you? Well, my mistress is done playing games with you. She’s bided her time, she’s scoped you out by sending easy monsters your way. Don’t think it will stay that way! She’s determined to get your miracle stones now!” And as if to punctuate what she was saying, the sentimonster launched her vines at both Kitty and Coccinello simultaneously, and although Coccinello had expected it and dodged appropriately, Kitty’s heart hammered harder as she felt a vine ghost the bottom of her foot as she barely escaped.

She landed on a rooftop to catch her breath, trying not to panic, trying to reel herself back in. She was a superhero. She could handle anything.

But as the facts settled on her, she began to wonder whether or not that was true. Whether being a hero and believing in herself would be enough.

Coccinello landed beside her, brow furrowed. “You alright?”

Kitty shook her head. “Did you hear her? She’s talking about her creator! The peacock wielder says she’s done playing games! Don’t you see it, Cocci? She’s upping the ante so that she can get our miracle stones! We thought we were the ones who were cleverly learning about our opponent. But in reality, all those other easy sentimonsters were just that — tests for us. She made them so that she could learn about how we fight, learn our weaknesses, and take advantage of them. That’s what this is! We’re not prepared for anything! It’s like… it’s like, this whole time, she was letting us win!” Kitty Noire’s voice became more hysterical the more she went on, the more she realized it was true as she spoke about it. 

She had been right before. They were not prepared, not one bit.

But somehow, Coccinello wasn’t seeing what she was seeing. “That might be true, but we also learned about her. It isn’t as if all of our practice and coordination with each other was for nothing. We learned how to take down monsters, Kitty Noire. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do today!” and he clenched his fist, looked to her, and jumped out into the fray, as if to demonstrate. 

Kitty’s hand reached out to try and stop him, but she couldn’t move herself forward, couldn’t do anything but watch as her partner put himself in danger. Her mind screamed to move, to help him, but her fear for him, her love for him, paralyzed her.

Coccinello threw out his yo-yo and wrapped it around the sentimonster’s legs, trying to trip her, but she just snickered and lifted a foot, catching the steel wire against one of her thorns. The thorn cut cleanly through it, and it fell away, useless.

Coccinello stared wordlessly at his hand, where just the hoop of the yo-yo hung. The end of the wire glowed pink, and Kitty could see from her vantage point that the weapon was regrowing, but not quickly enough. Coccinello jumped out of the way of a vine, and now that he was defenseless, Kitty Noire’s brain snapped into action.

She had to do something. She had to save him. She couldn’t lose him like this, the exact way she’d been afraid of, the exact way she’d tried and failed to prevent.

She dived off the roof and right at the monster, elongating her baton to use like a bat, hoping to lop the floral head right off of the sentimonster. She wasn’t thinking; she was following her instincts, knowing only that she had to do something to help the man she loved.

Her lack of calculation was her downfall, as the sentimonster brought up a vine to protect herself, and a thorn caught on Kitty Noire’s arm and cut right through her suit. Kitty screamed in pain, her trajectory askew, and she fell to the ground and rolled right behind the museum in a heap.

“Kitty!” Coccinello shouted, but all Kitty could hear was ringing in her ears. She desperately turned her arm over to asses the gash. Blood was rapidly pooling where her skin had broken. She fought the panic rising in her throat. Now was not the time to hyperventilate.

“The suits are supposed to be indestructible!” she cried through the pain.

The sentimonster just laughed again, low and cruel. “Maybe to silly things like bullets. But my thorns are made from the same magic as your suit. We’re on par with one another now!”

The blood ran like ice in Kitty Noire’s veins. What kind of power did the peacock wielder have? No other sentimonsters could do such damage before. Kitty Noire wrapped her good arm around her wound, feeling suddenly naked and ridiculous, as if she were here as Marinette, on the battlefield, trying to save Paris.The only thing that kept her from succumbing to her panic was the slow green glow crawling up her arm. The suit was healing itself, and her, but not instantly. 

She lifted her head to look around the building, desperate eyes searching for Coccinello, her heart jumping when she finally found him, his yo-yo now reformed, about to throw it up into the air. “Luck—”

His spell was cut off abruptly as the sentimonster’s vines snaked up and around Coccinello, yanking him to her, pinning his arms to his sides and surrounding his whole body in a tight coil. “Let’s stop playing games, now, shall we?” she asked, chuckling into Coccinello’s terrified eyes.

Kitty Noire looked down at her half-healed arm. It would have to do. She had to go back out there. Had to help Coccinello. Couldn’t waste another moment while he was in danger.

She came back around the building, exposing herself. But it didn’t matter, because the sentimonster was not looking anywhere near Kitty Noire. The vines on her other arm were reaching underneath the coil she had made, to Coccinello’s hand hanging helplessly at his side, to the ring adorning his finger, the one giving him his power. 

  Kitty had to think fast. 

She elongated her baton, using it like a pole vault, sending herself flying right at the monster once more, and once she was up in the air she retracted it to a smaller size, perfect for close combat. 

The sentimonster looked up from Coccinello, batted the baton and Kitty away effortlessly, her thorns making even more cuts in Kitty Noire’s suit. “Hah!” she jeered. “You can’t save him! And soon enough, everyone will know the identity of your lovebug!” 

But she had used the arm that was about to steal Cocci’s miracle stone to do it, and that was all Kitty had wanted. To buy her partner some time.

“Do your thing, Kitty Cat!” Coccinello called, and Kitty Noire jumped closer to him, prepping her cataclysm right as Coccinello tried something new. He threw his yo-yo out to the side, instead of up in the air, and shouted, “Lucky charm!”

There was no guarantee it would work, and for a second Kitty’s heart stopped, her despair beginning to consume her, until she saw the telltale pink glow and dived to the side, to where Coccinello was throwing his summoned item.

It fell into her hand before she knew what it was, and when it met her destructive strength it turned dark and powerful as it always did, and the familiarity of the situation gave Kitty newfound strength. Coccinello was right. They knew what they could do, and they were an amazing team.

As the lucky charm turned unlucky in her palm, Kitty Noire gave it a quick glance as she continued speeding toward the sentimonster. She only had a moment before their enemy tried to steal Coccinello’s miracle stone once more, and she had to make it count.

Her eyes danced over the words “weed killer” on a spray can. A plan formed without her having to think about it, and she launched herself up in the air, her arm moving to lift the spray up over her head, when the unexpected happened.

The sentimonster changed tactics, her free arm shooting out vines at Kitty Noire, wrapping her up tight as a boa constrictor, and pulling her right up against herself. She smiled evilly. “Now I have you both, and it was so easy. I can just carry you to my mistress; let her have the pleasure of taking your miracle stones herself.”

But Kitty paid no mind to the monster’s words. Instead she angled the spray can in her hand, twisting it slowly so that the nozzle was facing outward, and then, a heartbeat later, her clawed finger was on the tip, pressing down with everything she had, sending electric black spray into the air, but most importantly, onto the vines trapping her. 

The sentimonster shrieked in agony, her arm shriveling away, melting beneath the destructive magic, and as soon as Kitty felt her bounds slacken, she yanked her arm up to the tulip-covered head of the creature, spraying with all her might, and the flowers dissolved as well, and the sentimonster had no choice but to release Coccinello, to free her arm to defend her face, but Kitty kept spraying, not letting up on the nozzle even a little bit, until the entire can was emptied and the sentimonster was destroyed.

In her place was a middle-aged woman, and because Kitty Noire’s limbs were stiff from the adrenaline, because her shock rendered her frozen, Coccinello did the honors, turning the victim over to remove the dark feather.

Kitty Noire’s arms finally slackened, and the spray can fell to the ground with a clang. Kitty hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she finally inhaled, blinking to clear her head. They had done it. Coccinello was safe. The threat was gone.

Tears started to well in her eyes and Kitty Noire brushed them away messily, smearing blood on her mask from the cuts that hadn’t had a chance to finish healing. She didn’t want to cry now, while the news cameras were beginning to close in, while their fans were cheering and shouting that they were unstoppable. Kitty Noire didn’t feel unstoppable, didn’t feel as though she had succeeded. She felt as though she had barely made it out alive, that it was a very close call, and in Kitty’s book, close calls were not successes; they were near-failures.

Coccinello helped the woman onto a stretcher and passed her off to the medical professionals before turning to give Kitty Noire a tight hug, pulling her away from the reporters, and sending his yo-yo out into the distance, no longer making excuses.

He took her somewhere she hadn’t been before, somewhere near her apartment building. It was a small landing, a deck on the rooftop, and it was empty, which was all that mattered right now.

Coccinello set her down, giving her another squeeze, saying the words he didn’t want to say in front of so many onlookers. “Thank you for saving me. You were so brave.” He said the words into her crown, his chin buried in her hair.

Kitty Noire held onto him like she might fall if she didn’t, those tears threatening her again. She felt Coccinello beneath her palms, and she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She was holding him, and it was all the more terrifying because she knew she had almost lost him, had almost lost the ability to do this.

“We need to talk to Fu. Our adversaries are stronger. We need more power,” he told her, and she could nearly feel the cogs spinning in his head, trying to come up with a new plan of attack, finally accepting that she had been right, that this was now more dangerous than it had ever been before.

That relieved her, but she still felt her heart being squeezed as if in an iron hold. They simply could not continue on like this. It was too dangerous. She wouldn’t allow it.

Kitty Noire pulled away from the hug, relishing one long look in Coccinello’s eyes, appreciating that they were there before her, and not in the clutches of a sentimonster. Her hands slid to rest on his upper arms and she nodded to let him know that she agreed; they did need to speak with Fu. “There’s something more important on my mind, Cocci. More than ever now we need to find a solution to this problem. I knew something would happen, I knew I would lose you, I knew our enemies would use my love for you to their advantage. I could have failed today because I was so blinded by my panic, by my desperate need to save you…” The tears began rolling down her cheeks now. “Don’t you see? It’s too dangerous to be as close as we are. It keeps me from being rational, from thinking clearly. I’m too apt to follow my heart when it comes to you.”

Coccinello’s expression constricted into a pained frown, and he wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I know, Kitty. I was terrified today. I almost lost you, too. I was thinking… I didn’t care about my miracle stone in the moment. I just cared about you.”

Kitty Noire smiled, and it was a sad smile, twisted by the next wave of tears. “But that’s just it! We need to focus on the miracle stones, on the battle. We need to change our priorities.”

“But I can’t!” Coccinello nearly interrupted. “My priority is you. I love you, Kitty.”

Kitty Noire hated how much his declarations moved her, how much she just wanted to give in and tell him she loved him in return, how much she wanted to forget all about this and just be with him. She shook her head madly. “I love you too, but that’s the problem! It’s forbidden for a reason. We’re putting so much at risk by loving each other the way we do. It’s not what heroes are meant for. We have a job to do and our relationship puts that job in jeopardy!”

Coccinello’s eyes narrowed and he held onto her more tightly. “Oh, no. Oh no no no. You’re not breaking up with me again! I’m not going to let you do that to us! We’re going to stay here and figure this out without panicking. Because there has to be a solution. I love you, and I want to be with you, regardless of the fact that we’re heroes. Because I know that even if we weren’t, I’d want that, and the thing about love is, you have to keep it close to you when you find it, you can’t let it slip away because of something circumstantial…”

Kitty stopped hearing him. That was it. There was the solution, staring her in the face. Her words from last night echoed in her mind — how could they stay together in a way separate from their battles? — and they lingered with Coccinello’s words right now: “Even if we weren’t heroes, I’d want to be with you…”

She gasped. It was perfect! How did she not think of it before? Her face spread into a radiant beam, and she grinned up at Coccinello until he trailed off, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? I’m glad you like what I was saying, but this lovely smile is too happy just from hearing something said again that you already knew.”

She put her hands on his cheeks. “I figured it out! How to be together, but not as heroes! To keep those two parts of our life completely separate! And it will be perfect! Because I can have you all to myself without any crazed fans chasing us! And we won’t have to feel like romance time is on the battlefield, because we’ll have so much romance time off the battlefield! And I know what you’re gonna say, that technically right now is off the battlefield, but it isn’t really, because every time I wear this suit I mentally feel on the battlefield —”

“Kitty, slow down. What’s your brilliant idea?” Coccinello’s eyes were wide in excitement, and Kitty Noire had to catch a breath. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s simple. We break up as Kitty and Cocci. But we continue dating as whoever we are in real life!” She looked up at him, waiting for him to jump up in elation, to agree that it was indeed perfect.

But that elation never came. Coccinello’s smile slowly melted into a frown, and then his eyebrows came together in anger. “You — you mean, reveal identities?” Disbelief.

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t right at all. He was supposed to be happy. “Yes…?” but her uncertainty tipped the end of her answer in fear.

“But… but… that’s against the rules,” he spluttered.

“So is being together, but you didn’t seem to have a problem breaking that one!” Kitty Noire retorted.

Coccinello straightened, dropped his hold on her arms, moved away so that he could think. “I couldn’t help myself when it came to that rule; it was an accident. But purposefully going against what has been set down to protect us? I don’t think you realize the gravity of what you’re suggesting,” he explained, a little horrified.

Kitty Noire shook her head. Why wasn’t he getting it? “Don’t look at it that way,” she argued. “We both know we’re in the same fifty person class. Would it be such a stretch to assume we would have figured it out anyway, eventually?”

Coccinello’s face twisted in unease and he shook his head.

Kitty Noire moved closer to him. “If we were together in our civilian forms, we could focus better in our hero forms. Face it, Cocci! We’re not a normal couple! We can’t even have a conversation without getting swarmed. It’s hard to concentrate during battles because our fans are screaming at the tops of their lungs. Imagine a world in which I could be your girlfriend without any of those things. All I want is to get Andre’s with you without getting chased. Is that so crazy?”

Coccinello turned his head to look at her, moving a hand up to thread his fingers in her braid. He closed his eyes to block out the hope in hers. “It’s tempting, Kitty, I’ll admit that. But this is not sitting well with me. Maybe later, if we really, really have to.” 

Kitty Noire’s ears fell along with her gaze. Her disappointment was tangible and Coccinello hated being the one to let her down. He put his hand under her chin to look into her neon cat eyes. “It’s not because I don’t want to. But we’re already in danger. If I knew your real identity, I could give our enemies so much power over you.” He ran his other hand over her hair, petting her head gently. “Besides, even if we did reveal to one another, it wouldn’t stop us from being vulnerable to villains. I will love you as Kitty Noire even if we get together in our civilian forms, and I’m sure the same is true for you. So, really, it wouldn’t help the problem. The only real solution is just to fall out of love,” he told her, running the back of his hand along her cheek. “But I can’t do that,” he whispered, allowing a small smile to creep back onto his features.

Kitty sighed. It was all so logical, and she had no choice but to agree with him, albeit reluctantly. But it would help her compartmentalize so much.

After a weird and difficult day in class (what was left of it, anyway) and at her internship, Marinette was very ready to wind down with some much-needed girl time with Alya.

They cooked dinner together that evening before they decided on what movie to go see. As Alya adjusted the heat flaming up underneath the pot, Marinette leaned against the counter, scrolling on her phone.

“So, there’s the action comedy at 20:15, 21:30, and 22:45; there’s the romance musical at 20—” Marinette stopped as she saw Alya make a gagging face. “Okay, no romance musical,” she amended, scrolling further, “and it’ll be a no from me on the horror movie,” she chuckled as Alya pouted.

“Oh, come on! Horror movies aren’t that scary!” 

But Marinette shook her head. “It’s non-negotiable. I guess the action comedy it is. Which showing makes more sense?”

Alya turned back to the pot, lifting the lid and stirring. “Well, it’s 19:00 now, so maybe the 20:15 sounds good. That way we can both get enough sleep for tomorrow.”

“Alrighty,” Marinette smiled, pressing the purchase tickets button.

There was a moment of silence, and so the things Marinette’s brain had been returning to all day resurfaced once more. Was Coccinello right or was he being a goody-two-shoes? Revealing identities wasn’t that big of a deal… was it? Marinette looked up suddenly at the best friend two feet away from her. A potential fountain of wisdom. So she put her phone down and asked, as casually as she could, “Alya, if you were Kitty Noire or Coccinello, would you want to reveal identities? Just to make things easier? I mean, it must be hard to be a couple with someone you don’t even know, right?”

Alya stirred, her back to Marinette. “Hmm. I’m not sure. It seems kind of dangerous. But I can understand why they might want to. It would make some things easier, it would allow them to have the privacy they can’t get now. But at the same time it might make things weird if they broke up. Like, can you imagine having to be a superhero duo with your ex? Yikes!” she laughed, because to her it was all hypothetical, just a thought to wonder about, that would never really matter to them.

So Marinette laughed along, a forced and painful laugh. She hadn’t even considered that. But then she remembered that this was herself and Coccinello they were talking about; they would probably have broken up for real by now if they were going to. No, she was pretty sure they were in it for the long run, because how could they not be? Being a superhero duo with someone was the kind of relationship that eclipsed all others; the things you go through with them, that neither of you ever go through with someone else… it’s a strong bond. Marinette was sure she’d never love anyone the same way she loved Coccinello, even if things did end one day. He would always be special to her.

Since Marinette bought the tickets, Alya volunteered to buy the popcorn, and Marinette went to the restroom while she waited. When she had finished washing up, Plagg emerged from her purse, and she was about to scold him before she remembered that he could tell when a room was empty even better than she could.

“Can you sneak some of that delicious smelling stuff for me?” he asked, his mouth watering.

Marinette chuckled. “Of course I can, you little glutton,” she teased, poking his head. Then another thought struck her. She hadn’t even asked Plagg for advice yet. “What would you do, if you were in my place? Is it really so outrageous to propose sharing identities as a good compromise?”

But Plagg could only shrug. “It’s your life, Marinette. At this point, just do what you want.”

Her shoulders fell and she grumbled. “Why is everyone giving me such wishy-washy advice?”

Plagg sighed. “Well, the only reason I would stop you from doing it is that if someone tortures you, they could get Coccinello’s real identity and steal his stone while he’s in his civilian form, completely defenseless.”

Marinette’s brows tugged together and she chewed the inside of her cheek. That was true. But she shook her head once she reasoned it through. “But our love endangers the safety of our stones, anyway. If they torture me, I’m sure Coccinello would not hesitate to give up his ring. I know I wouldn’t.” She said it and it echoed in the empty bathroom, giving her words a strange sense of finality.

She looked back down to her kwami, meeting his eyes that had already been gazing at her. He smiled, and Marinette couldn’t quite understand the emotion behind it. Was it pride? Resignation? “I know,” he finally said, “which is why I can’t advise you. You’ve broken one rule and so I understand why breaking another matters less. If I were in your shoes I’d do the same thing. The line has already been crossed; what difference does it make if you cross it more, so long as you can be happy?”

They stayed looking into each other’s eyes for a moment, Marinette unable to stop the smile from worming its way onto her lips. She understood it now. Plagg just wanted her to be happy. It made part of her chest feel warm and light.

Plagg dived back into her purse, leaving Marinette confused for just a beat until she heard heels clicking on tile, the bathroom door’s hinges squeaking open.

Marinette pretended to be drying her hands and left the facilities to join back up with Alya, her heart still buoyant.

After the movie had ended, when Marinette and Alya were walking back to their apartment, Marinette’s phone buzzed, and she nearly froze thinking who it might be. Alya didn’t notice her momentary freak-out; she was too busy bubbling about how awesome the action scenes had been. Marinette reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. Lo and behold, she had one unread message from Fu.

“Meet me,” it read.

Chapter Text

Alya jumped in the shower after the movie, and Marinette waited just a few minutes to call out in what she hoped was a convincing tone of voice, “A friend of mine from work needs some help with the party she’s planning. I’m gonna head over there and be right back!”

Alya hardly heard her, she was sure, but that was of little consequence. The rock in Marinette’s stomach was getting heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Fu was waiting on her. It had to be serious, something to do with the fight this morning. Nothing good.

Kitty Noire scanned the horizon for her partner, but he was nowhere to be found. Fu hadn’t said anything about her “lucky charm” this time, but Kitty Noire was sure he’d gotten a text of his own and was on his way already. She raced into the darkness as quickly as possible, and although Fu hadn’t given her a location at which to meet, she was pretty sure she knew where he’d be.

A dead streetlamp. A hidden corner at the bank of the Seine. An inconspicuous bench. Was it coincidence or did he plan it to be this way? Kitty Noire’s lithe feet touched down on the cobblestones and she peered into the shadows, ears twitching forward, zooming into the sounds, but it was all as silent as her footsteps. Of course, Fu wouldn’t have it any other way.

She rounded the corner beneath the bridge, and there they sat. They. Kitty Noire nearly balked. She had been expecting her professor, her partner, nothing more. Instead two new faces sat on the bench, body language too relaxed. On the end, Kitty Noire was shocked to see someone she knew almost too well.

“We were wondering when you’d grace us with your presence, Kitty Cat,” Coccinello called nonchalantly, one leg up on his knee, his arms hanging over the back of the bench.

Kitty Noire’s shock passed and she crossed her arms a little indignantly. “I came as fast as I could,” she tried not to huff. She thought she did pretty well considering this meeting was at a mystery location.

“Now that everyone is present,” Fu stood from his end of the bench and approached Kitty, putting a hand on her wrist comfortingly and giving her a private smile. He turned back to the company. “Coccinello, Kitty Noire, this is the order of guardians — who is left of it, anyway. Mme. Lenoir and M. Ramier each carry two miracle stones and protect them with their lives.”

The guardians smiled and nodded. The woman was around the same age as Fu; getting on in years but as sprightly as ever. Her eyes were nearly as green as Kitty’s, shining like jewels in the low light. Although she seemed demure, Kitty Noire somehow knew that Mme. Lenoir could hold her own in a fight just fine.

The man was tall and stringy, wearing an ill-fitting suit and matching faded trilby hat. At first glance, he seemed harmless, entirely approachable. In fact, Marinette was pretty sure she had seen him around Paris before, feeding the pigeons at the park. He had appeared such a simpleton then, but that fool was gone from this man’s expression. The longer she looked, the more she noticed that his dark eyes held no trace of a smile, that the way he held his shoulders was almost threatening. Kitty Noire averted her glance away before they could lock eyes, afraid of how he might react to being gawked at.

Kitty moved her gaze over to Fu, and all at once, seeing him among his fellow guardians, it was clear there was something else to him as well. He was more than just an eccentric professor at the local university. He fit in with these two, seemed almost to be their leader, and as he straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes narrowing eerily, Kitty Noire fought a chill. “We’ve decided to call you here tonight at the suggestion of Coccinello. He expressed concern that our enemy is getting stronger, and thus, we need to strengthen our team in response.” 

Fu and Coccinello exchanged a solemn nod, but when Fu looked away, Coccinello’s gaze found Kitty’s. He gave her a wink, completely disrupting the mood. It almost made her laugh but she rolled her lips to bite down on the smile. She wanted to be serious; she didn’t want the guardians to think she was a child, even if Coccinello was.

“Both of you have proven yourselves trustworthy and devoted to this cause and thus, we are confident that this is the right choice to make. But be warned — fusion is dangerous and not to be taken lightly. You could lose your mind with the power. This is the way heroes go bad.”

Kitty Noire was suddenly all attention as her professor spoke. Fusion?

“As you know from our last meeting, there are seven miracle stones in total. Three of which you know about, but the other four are a mystery. I hope that tonight can clear that up,” he explained, giving Kitty Noire a leveled smile. 

She nodded, sobered by the responsibility she was being entrusted with.

Mme. Lenoir stood off the bench, approaching Kitty Noire. Coccinello jumped up to stand beside his partner so as not to miss any vital words from the guardians.

She gave them both a heartfelt grin, endless knowledge dancing there in her jeweled eyes that Kitty could only wonder after. Mme. Lenoir opened her mouth and her voice was as gentle and warm as a summer wind. “The two of you are going to choose another miracle stone tonight. It can be any of the rings that M. Ramier or I possess. But before you choose you’ll need to know what powers you’ll be getting, hmm?” 

Kitty Noire could only nod, bewitched. Mme. Lenoir was instantly calming, instantly trustworthy. All Kitty wanted to do was please her.

Mme. Lenoir produced a small box, lifting the lid with care. The heroes could only gawk at the gorgeous rings inside. Kitty Noire could feel their power humming, enticing her to lift up a hand and take one, just to see…

She pulled away abruptly, shaking her head, trying to distance herself from the stones. They tempted her in ways that made her very uncomfortable.

But Mme. Lenoir just looked at Kitty knowingly. “They sing to you, too, do they?” she asked, and Kitty Noire nodded, relieved to be understood. She’d worried for a split second there that she might be going bad. 

“Their song can be impossible to resist, at times, but resist you must.”

Kitty shoved her hands into her pockets and gave Mme. Lenoir a shaky smile.

The older woman looked back at the rings. She pointed to the first one, an intricate gold band with a vibrant green jewel in the center. It wasn’t the same shade of green as Marinette’s miracle stone was; it was turquoise, a sea color that danced on the edge of blue as the light refracted across it. “This is the turtle miracle stone. The powers it grants are defensive. Just as the two of you have cataclysm and lucky charm, the turtle miracle stone user can create an impenetrable shield around themselves or their team.”

Coccinello’s eyes bugged out of his head, nearly swimming with stars. Kitty Noire bit down on another chuckle. The turtle seemed strong, certainly, but offense was much more her style.

“This one,” Mme. Lenoir gestured to the other ring, blinding yellow on a black metal band, “is the miracle stone of the bee. It allows the user to completely immobilize their opponent. The amount of time the power lasts for depends on the strength of the wielder.” Mme. Lenoir gazed at the stone wistfully, and Kitty Noire almost asked her how long she had managed to freeze an enemy for, but she didn’t want to seem impertinent. 

Of these two stones, Kitty was much more excited by the prospect of the bee. It seemed just the thing for her.

Mme. Lenoir closed the box, and both heroes started as the spell the miracle stones had put them under abruptly vanished. Kitty stared longingly at the box as Mme. Lenoir stepped away. The jewels must contain incomprehensible power if they could ensnare perfectly good heroes so easily. 

Kitty Noire didn’t notice M. Ramier replace Mme. Lenoir until he was opening his own box. Her eyes were yanked to drink up the beauty of these stones; the songs they sang to her were unique but equally enthralling.

M. Ramier spoke, and Kitty had to use all her willpower to turn her head up from the box to look into the guardian’s face. “My stones, as Mme. Lenoir mentioned, are free here for you to choose from. Make the choice that you believe will make you the strongest in the upcoming battles against these enhanced sentimonsters.”

Kitty Noire nodded, refocusing. This was about power, yes, but more importantly, it was about strategy. Which stone would complement her abilities best? These were the questions she needed to ask herself, and so she pushed all other thoughts down.

“This ring here is the butterfly miracle stone,” M. Ramier nodded to the ring on the left. Its beauty took Kitty’s breath away. The band was delicate steel, lacing in the shape of butterfly wings, and Kitty Noire’s unabashed gawking gained her a chuckle from M. Ramier. She straightened, embarrassed, running the back of her hand across her lips to make sure she hadn’t been drooling. “The power it grants is a difficult one. The user enchants a butterfly from their cane and, much like the peacock, chooses an ally to bestow power upon. But instead of creating a sentimonster for their ally, the butterfly gives the ally power directly, transforming them into a superhero. This stone requires an experienced wielder. Otherwise things tend to go… haywire,” M. Ramier ended ominously.

“Haywire?” Coccinello echoed, and Kitty was glad of it, because her mouth was too dry to speak a word.

M. Ramier nodded. “The wielder controls the new hero, to a degree. Allowing them too much power could be disastrous. But an inexperienced wielder may not have the strength to know how much is too much.”

Images of failure on the battlefield — creating allies that ran away, caused havoc, or worse, joined the enemy team — flooded Kitty’s brain. Her eyes moved to the next stone in order to put ideas of the butterfly out of her head. 

This one appeared blown of glass, much like Kitty Noire’s own miracle stone looked when she wasn’t wearing it. The glass reflected all the colors of the rainbow when the light hit it, and it was so enchanting Kitty Noire didn’t notice the shade of the stone at first.

“This next ring is the fox miracle stone,” M. Ramier explained, and Kitty Noire’s eyes landed on the round orange gem melded in the center of the blown glass. “This power is also a difficult one, requiring the discipline of the butterfly and preferring the strength of the bee. With this stone, the wielder can create any illusion they please. An illusion can be more complex and can last for longer depending on the experience of the user.”

Kitty Noire boggled at that. Creating illusions? If done well, by a powerful wielder, this stone could be the strongest of them all. People were far too apt to believe what they were seeing.

Fu stepped in, and M. Ramier closed his box and moved away from the heroes. Kitty Noire and Coccinello once again snapped back to reality, eyes jumping to their professor. “Now you know of all the stones and their powers. Your next step is to choose another ring to wield along with the one you are already using. Choose carefully. Your next victory may depend on it.”

Coccinello nodded solemnly beside Kitty Noire and she tightened her fists in determination. She knew which stone she would choose. It would be revolutionary, having two powers. The sentimonsters wouldn’t know what hit them.

Coccinello stepped forward, made his choice first. “I’d like to pick the stone of the turtle, if that’s alright with you, Kitty,” he called over his shoulder, and she couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“Of course!” she assured him. “I was intending to take the bee.”

Mme. Lenoir grinned knowingly to herself and moved to the heroes once more, opening her box and holding it out to them. Coccinello touched the turtle stone and rolled it over in his fingers in wonder, watching the jewel glitter in the scarce light.

Kitty Noire was equally hypnotized by the ring of the bee, the lemon-colored gem emitting its own glow in her palm.

The heroes simply stared, unable to utter a word, and Mme. Lenoir laughed, pulling their attention away from the magical jewels. “Go ahead and put them on!”

Kitty Noire looked back at the ring hungrily, not waiting any longer than she had to to slip the ornament onto her pointer finger. Once it made contact, the neon glow grew brighter and brighter, blinding her as she tried to watch the kwami materialize through the minuscule open slits of her closed eyes.

The little bee yawned and stretched. “Hello, majesty,” she grinned at Kitty Noire, and Kitty could hardly keep herself from jumping up and down in excitement. Unbelievable! Another kwami! A friend for Plagg! “I’m Pollen,” the kwami explained. “You’re already a miracle stone wielder, so I don’t have to spell it out for you. You say ‘transform me,’ when you want to borrow my powers.”

Kitty looked at the ring on her finger, delighted that it had completely changed to match her personality, just as Plagg’s stone had done. The band was still black metal, but thinner and more feminine than it had been, the jewel now teardrop-shaped, the yellow much more subdued. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pollen. I’ll tell you my real name later,” she winked.

Kitty Noire turned her attention to Coccinello. His new kwami was equally adorable — complete with a tiny shell on his back. “I’m Wayzz. If you say, ‘Wayzz, transform me,’ I’ll let you protect your loved ones.”

“But if I’m already transformed, what then?” Coccinello asked, that glint of determination still there in his eyes despite being deterred. She took a moment to admire that about him before perking her ears to listen to Wayzz, as she hadn’t thought of that complication.

“No worries, my friend,” he told Coccinello. “It’s the same. You can ask a kwami to transform you even if you’re already transformed — that’s how a fusion happens. You’ll be able to draw on both Tikki’s and my powers at the same time.”

“Awesome!” Coccinello exclaimed, and without waiting any longer, he called, “Wayzz, transform me!”

Kitty Noire watched her partner get bathed in the sea-kelp colored light, completely entranced. She had never seen someone transform before. When the light faded, the man standing in front of her was almost unrecognizable. He turned to look at himself, his legs and arms now turtle green, his chest plate checkered with beige, his mask now green with red on the edges, but the black spots still dotted over the green. His usual wildly untamed hair was now cut short, spiking up in the front. She had to gasp in surprise. The upgrade to his look certainly made him more fearsome, and Kitty began to grow excited about her own transformation.

Coccinello reached over his shoulder and procured the shell shield that hung on his back. He untied his yo-yo from his waist and spun it rapidly at his side as he held out the shield. “Check it out! Two weapons!”

He put them both away and approached Kitty Noire. “Well, don’t hold out on us any longer!”

Kitty was about to transform herself when she looked up at him again. He wasn’t Coccinello anymore. He was some other turtle-and-ladybug hero. “But you need a new name,” she told him.

“Hmm,” her partner put a green finger to his chin. “How about… Tortunello?”

Kitty giggled and nodded as Tortunello pretended to pose for a few moments. Then she shook her head to come back to the present, looking to Pollen as she exclaimed, “Pollen, transform me!”

Immediately, the bright yellow glow engulfed her, and Kitty was a little disappointed to find that transforming while already transformed didn’t feel any differently than transforming the regular way. But the way she felt after it was over was staggering.

She could feel the added powers coursing in her veins. Her bones felt like steel, her skin felt like titanium, her nails felt like diamonds. She felt invincible. Kitty Noire, or whoever she was now, was a force to be reckoned with. 

The black arms of her suit were now decorated with bee-yellow zig-zags, like lightning bolts that travelled down her arms and struck on the backs of her hands. The zig-zags were outlined by her familiar neon green stripes. Her chest now had a yellow bodice design imprinted on it, starting with a strapless sweetheart neckline and ending in a V shape at her belly button. Her shoes were unchanged, but her legs were new. A solid stripe of yellow highlighted the outside of her right leg, but a yellow ring wrapped around her left ankle. Kitty admired the asymmetry, wondering how much of herself went into the costume when she transformed. It was exactly the kind of thing she’d imagine if she had sat down and designed it. When she moved her head to examine her feet, her hair fell over onto her shoulder and she nearly jumped in surprise. The braid was gone (the cat-tail length remained) and her hair hung free, but the color! Her hair was now streaked with blonde in a long ponytail that came to a point at the very end, like a cat tail with a stinger. 

“You look great,” Tortunello breathed, and the softness of his voice pulled her attention away. He was standing right over her, his hand going to her hair. “May I?”

She nodded and he ran his fingers over the golden and black strands in amazement. He stopped when his eyes fell on her new weapon. “Is that a yo-yo?”

Her gaze dropped to the string around her waist. She pulled and a black and yellow striped spinning top hung from her hand. She took a step back from Tortunello and spun it at her side; it was just like his yo-yo, but yellow.

“And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Tortunello teased her.

She had forgotten all about a new name in her astonishment. But he was right, she wasn’t really Kitty Noire anymore. She was Bee Kitty. Or Kitty Buzz. Or… “Buzzy Noire!” she snapped her fingers, feeling quite clever.

Tortunello bowed low. “You look lovely, Mlle. Buzzy,” he chuckled, making Buzzy Noire laugh.

Their antics were cut short by a throat clearing. Both heroes stood at attention. “You both look astounding, and you seem at ease with your new powers. That’s vital,” Mme. Lenoir moved back over to the heroes and rested her hands on each of their shoulders. She leaned closer to them and that same knowing smile overtook her features. “I must confess, I knew this moment would come to pass; I had seen it in my mind’s eye years and years ago. And when I regard you both, standing here with your new abilities, I feel undoubtedly that the stars aligned for this to happen this way. It was nothing less than fate.”

Once Kitty Noire and Coccinello had their new miracle stones, Fu urged them all to leave immediately, as they had tarried in one spot for long enough. Before the heroes departed, he confided that the guardians generally never meet all at once like this, as it endangers their ability to move under the radar. “If you need to get in contact with either Mme. Lenoir or M. Ramier, let me know and I will set up a meeting somewhere entirely new. We won’t be doing anything like this again.”

Buzzy Noire cocked her head. “I mean no offense, professor, but… why would we need to call another guardians meeting? We have our stones.”

Fu’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. “Oh! I suppose I forgot to mention it. Each guardian (or wielder) is allowed to carry a maximum of two stones at once. So if you wanted to try out M. Ramier’s stones, for example, you’d have to meet with Mme. Lenoir to return hers to her beforehand. That way no one is carrying more than two stones at a time.”

It made sense to her, and yet… “Why is two the limit?”

Fu’s eyes darkened. “Because three is when even well-intentioned guardians might be tempted.”

“Oh…” Buzzy Noire’s eyes fell, and Tortunello put a comforting hand on her back while she rode out her embarrassment. Of course it was a preventative measure. Sometimes she could be so clueless.

The meeting disbanded, and everyone left in a different direction. Buzzy Noire tested out traveling by spinning top, and to her shock, instead of wrapping about things and propelling her forward, like the yo-yo would, the top landed on a roof and spun along the surface, pulling her ahead by the wire, sending her flying into the night. She hung on as it raced forward, resisting the urge to whoop and holler. When she wanted to stop, she simply pulled the wire, retracting the top, and landed. She was about to spin the top over her head and send it forward once more when Tortunello alighted beside her.

“Too bad I can’t ride my shell like a hoverboard,” he joked, replacing his yo-yo around his waist.

Buzzy Noire did the same with her top and sat where Tortunello tapped the space beside him with his palm. She looped her arm into his and played with her new ring. Her brain was teeming after such an unexpected amount of learning, and she wanted to ask Tortunello a slew of questions, but the one that came out was, “Do you think Mme. Lenoir was right? That we were fated for this?”

She didn’t know why she asked it, but it had been echoing in her head since Mme. Lenoir had said it. Buzzy Noire wasn’t sure she believed in fate, but Mme. Lenoir’s conviction was nearly impossible to resist.

Tortunello shrugged, resting his now closely-shaved head against her own. “I’m not really sure. After all, is fate even real? It seemed more to me like Professor Fu just needed to choose someone to give his miracle stones to — that it could have been anyone, and we just happened to be in his class at the time.”

However, it was those words — “just happened” — that made her really think. “But isn’t that what fate is? That we were fated to be in Fu’s class right in time to receive the stones?”

Tortunello waggled his head back and forth, as if measuring that. “I don’t know. You could be right. Or maybe it was a chance happening.”

Buzzy Noire would have let it go at that, but his wording got her thinking once more. The phrase “chance happening” reminded her of the first sentimonster, the one everyone had called a “strange happening,” and her mind fell down a memory spiral of that day.

Tortunello noticed she was silent for a long while, and was about to ask after her thoughts when she spoke. “Were you scared? Of the first monster, before you got your miracle stone?”

It was a strange question, and Buzzy Noire could tell it threw him. His brow furrowed and he scratched an ear. “Actually, no. I was intrigued, I wanted to do something to help, but I wasn’t afraid.”

Buzzy Noire looked into her partner’s eyes for a moment, and he peered at her curiously until her gaze dropped into her lap. “Neither was I. I was afraid for everyone else, but not for myself. It made me feel weird at the time because I was the only one not scared. But now I find out that you weren’t scared either…” Her statement ended with a hopeful tone, an implication there that made Tortunello look back at Buzzy. She was already waiting to meet his eyes, and the partners shared a look that left the question hanging in the air, unanswered. Neither of them knew. But perhaps it was fate.

After some time of quiet stargazing and cuddling, Buzzy Noire’s cat ears drooped as the hazy excitement of the night began to wear off. There was still a problem that hadn’t been solved. She squirmed.

“You okay?” Tortunello asked, feeling her unease.

“I just… was wondering if you thought more about my proposition. If you came up with any alternate solutions.” Buzzy Noire looked to him, her expression a mix of hope and shame.

Tortunello sighed heavily, his countenance darkening. “You mean about the identity reveal?”

She could only nod, a small thing.

Tortunello wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to his chest. “No, no decisions yet. But… I promise I’ll let you know before the next battle, okay? So don’t be nervous,” he rushed to reassure her, giving her arm a squeeze.

So she exhaled and snuggled closer, allowing her trust in him to convince her.

Buzzy Noire touched down in her favorite alley, calling, “detransformation.” She wasn’t sure if that would make both Plagg and Pollen remove their powers, or just Pollen.

When she looked down at herself, she was back to being familiar old Kitty. She smiled, looking up at Pollen.

“Whoo! It’s so nice to stretch my legs after so many years of disuse,” she remarked.

Kitty Noire said the detransformation words again, making Plagg emerge from her ring and instantly begin chatting with the other kwami. “Pollen, never before have our powers been fused! This was amazing! Groundbreaking!”

“Yes, I was fabulous, wasn’t I?” Pollen fluffed up the fur on her body. Marinette held in a chuckle.

“Unfortunately, Pollen, I wasn’t expecting to get another kwami tonight. So I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep, or even room in my tiny purse.” She looked down at her bag, which was hardly large enough to fit one kwami.

Plagg piped up. “You can renounce one of us, Marinette. But choose wisely,” he added ominously.

She squirmed. She wanted to be hospitable to Pollen, but she didn’t know how kwami etiquette worked. Was she supposed to renounce Plagg until she could make another bed? Or did she renounce Pollen because Plagg was hers first? She chewed on her lip before one of them spoke again.

“It’s okay, Marinette. You can renounce me until you need my powers again. Believe me, I can handle it. I’ve been inactive for about a decade — what’s a little more?” Pollen’s eyes and voice were so sincere, Marinette believed she meant what she said. “Besides,” she commented, glancing sideways at the black cat kwami beside her. “Plagg might get a bit jealous if you don’t.”

Plagg scoffed but smiled appreciatively at Pollen.

Marinette nodded, and after a bit of concentration, slipped the bee ring off of her finger. Pollen vanished, the ring transformed back to its default style. Marinette dropped it in her purse and gestured for Plagg to follow suit.

Once in her room, Marinette found a small tin (which had originally contained mints) that she had been using to store her earbuds. She laid the earbuds on top of her computer and instead delicately placed the ring in the mints container. She closed it and returned it to its place. There. It would be safe here, in her room, away from anything that might endanger it.

Chapter Text

The next day, at Sloppy Joe’s, Marinette decided she needed to cover her bases. She had lied to Alya the previous night that she was helping a friend plan a party, and the number one rule of alibis is that you stick to them. 

It was this line of thinking that led Marinette to wait an hour after her shift ended to catch Lila coming in for her own. As the brunette sashayed by, Marinette got up from the table she had been loitering at and rushed to speak to her before she went into the locker room.

“Lila!”

Lila smiled and waved gently. “What’s going on?”

Marinette stammered, suddenly nervous. What if Lila didn’t need any help planning her party? What if Marinette was being impertinent by assuming she did? “I just… well, you’re still planning that party, right? I was wondering if maybe you needed an extra hand.”

Lila’s eyebrows rose and her olive-colored eyes lit up. “Oh! You want to help me plan the huge bash? That’s awesome, Marinette! So nice of you.”

Marinette colored, remembering that Lila was sweet and understanding, and would never think someone was impertinent for offering help. She exhaled, losing the tension, and nodded. “Of course! You decided to throw it for us, so I figured it was the least I could do.”

Lila grinned and tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “Hmm. Maybe you could help me figure out the music? You probably have great taste; you could make a jam playlist!”

Marinette thought about that for a moment, but none of her favorite musicians fit the bill. Most of them were grungy rock stars, and she shuddered to imagine everyone being bored at the party, or worse, leaving early. But she did want to help Lila, so she thought fast. “I’m not sure my music is cool enough, but I have a friend who’s a DJ. I could ask him if he’d be down to do the gig as a favor.”

Lila’s eyes widened. “No way! You know a DJ? That would be sooo cool! Thank you so much, Marinette!” She jumped up to emphasize her excitement.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” Marinette ducked her head. It was nice to do things for other people. 

“Well, if it’s nothing, as you say…” Lila began, and Marinette’s eyes snapped back to look at her friend. “I remember a certain conversation we had where you mentioned you’d bake something for me if I asked you…” she teased, her tone lilting.

“Oh! Of course!” Marinette recovered, thankful it was something doable. “Would you like croissants, macarons…?”

Lila pursed her lips. “Hmm. The thing is, I’m not sure how many people will be there yet. I’ll make sure to find that out tonight and maybe we can plan it out some more tomorrow?” she asked, her eyes apologetic.

Marinette nodded, her mind shuffling through her schedule for tomorrow, trying to find an opening. She had a little bit of time between class and her internship. “Yeah, alright! I’m free for about an hour at 13:00. Does that work?”

“Totally!” Lila exclaimed, her hand moving to the locker room door handle. “Here?”

Marinette shook her head. “No… Maybe we can try your place? That way we can plan out where to put tables and where the DJ can set up.”

A flash of something passed behind Lila’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by sheepishness. Marinette’s brow furrowed but she forgot her concern as Lila spoke. “Ahh… my place is kind of a mess still, with boxes not yet unpacked — it would be inconvenient for you. Why don’t we try your place instead?”

Marinette considered that. It was the afternoon, so her roommates would be in class. She smiled as she agreed to Lila’s proposal. She didn’t want to disturb Alya, Juleka or Mylène since she didn’t know how much space she and Lila would take up, or if they’d be playing loud music.

“Cool! See you then! And thanks again for being so awesome, Marinette!” Lila’s smile was so wide it made her eyes crinkle. 

Marinette waved and let Lila get ready for work, feeling buoyant. So it was an alibi, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to have fun with it.

The time arrived on the following day, and Marinette was surprised to find Alya lounging on the couch when she came back to the apartment from class.

“Hey,” she greeted her friend. “Don’t you have class right now?”

Alya shrugged, putting her phone down. “Yeah, but the prof cancelled lecture today. So I’ve just been bumming it. Probably gonna call Nino later.”

“Okay,” Marinette replied, a bit abashed. “Had I known I wouldn’t have let Lila come over.”

“Lila?”

“Yeah, she’s my coworker. The girl whose party I’m helping plan?”

“Ahh. Well, don’t worry about it. She can be here — I’m not doing anything important,” Alya smiled, gesturing to her sweatpants and worn out concert t-shirt.

Marinette got everything arranged so that she could leave for her internship as soon as possible, and set out her homework so that she could hit the books as soon as she got back. She relaxed for a moment when the doorbell rang and she jumped.

Plagg peeked out of her shirt pocket. “Company!”

She gave him a look and he darted back out of sight with a chuckle.

Marinette moved to the door and met Lila’s radiant grin when she opened it. “Hey you!” Lila called, stepping over the threshold and wrapping Marinette up in a hug, as if they were the closest of friends. A little confused, but not wanting to be rude, Marinette embraced her back.

When they stepped away and Lila began to ask Marinette where a good place to set up would be, Marinette noticed Alya narrowing her eyes at them in her peripheral vision. She tried to ignore her roommate and answer Lila. “The dining room table should be enough space,” she gestured to it as she spoke.

Lila headed over and took a seat when Marinette figured introductions were in order. “By the way, Lila, this is Alya, my roommate. Alya, Lila.”

“Nice to meet you! Any friend of Marinette’s is a friend of mine!” Lila smiled, her voice bright and chipper.

Marinette was about to relax at that response, but Alya merely lifted up a chin in Lila’s direction. “Charmed.”

Lila’s shoulders fell, her eyes lowering into her lap, clearly hurt. Marinette gave Alya a look. Alya responded by putting her palms up and raising her eyebrows, as if to say, “don’t look at me!” Marinette sighed and knew she’d talk to Alya about it after Lila left.

“So,” she tried to steer the afternoon back on track, turning to her guest. “Did you find out how many people will be coming?”

Lila perked back up, nodding excitedly and pulling out her phone. “Yeah! I wrote it down here… It looks like it’ll be fifteen people! Which is going to be awesome! It’ll feel like a full house since my apartment is about the same size as yours, but it’ll be intimate too.”

Marinette’s brain kicked into action. “Fifteen people —  so they’ll probably have about two croissants each, or three macarons… Or maybe, a croissant and some macarons,” she winked at Lila, and both girls giggled.

“Thanks for being a champ and offering to do this!” Lila gushed. “Do you want any help baking? I’d rather you do whatever is easier for you, but I have to admit, having both pastries would be awesome…”

Marinette chuckled. “I’ll see what I have. If we do croissants, that’s about thirty, which isn’t too hard. For macarons, forty-five… and for both… about fifteen croissants and thirty macarons. So it’s not impossible.”

Lila wiggled excitedly in her chair. “Okay, sweet! We can start now if you want my help with it!” she offered again, but Marinette just laughed good-naturedly.

“It would take a lot longer than we have time for to make them. I have to get to my internship anyway, and I don’t want to burn the place down. But thank you.”

Lila’s shrugged humbly. “Okay. So we’ve figured out the snacks. Did you talk to your DJ friend? Is he available?”

Marinette jumped in surprise. Her eyes darted to Alya, who was pointedly looking at her phone and seemed to be ignoring them both. But Marinette knew better. She sighed. “Hey Alya?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think Nino would be able to DJ the party we’re planning?”

Alya’s eyes whipped to Marinette’s in a flash. Her expression shifted from shock, to disbelief, to excitement. “For real?”

Marinette nodded. “No pay, though. We’re all broke college students.”

Alya’s joy dampened a little. “I’ll ask. He probably will, but have a backup, just in case.” She went back to her phone, and Marinette hoped she was texting Nino about it right then and there. If he said no, her music library would be the backup, and she tried not to sweat thinking about it.

Marinette turned back to Lila, who had a strange look on her face. “You okay?”

Lila shook herself, coming to. “Yeah. I just feel bad bothering Nino.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s nice of you, but Nino’s a sweetie. He gets a few gigs but nothing crazy. He’s still a student, so it’s hard to find the time. This party will be casual, so I’m sure he’ll want to do it, just for fun.”

Lila still didn’t look convinced. 

Marinette sighed. “Don’t worry. If anything, I’ll make him some extra croissants as an incentive.” She winked and Lila brightened again immediately.

“Okay, that makes me feel better. I didn’t want him to feel used.”

Marinette smiled and shook her head reassuringly, amazed at how compassionate Lila could be about someone she’d never met.

She was about to say as much, when Lila opened her mouth. “Sorry to impose, but could I be directed to your restroom?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s through that door, at the end of the room.” Marinette gestured to her bedroom.

“Thanks!” Lila stood up and Marinette watched her until the door closed behind her, ready for Alya to speak as soon as it did.

“Marinette!” her friend hissed.

“What’s your problem?” Marinette replied.

Neither girl moved from their places as they spoke. “How do you stand her?”

Marinette boggled. “What are you talking about?”

“Umm… everything? That girl is so fake. From her perky little voice to the way she walks. I’d be surprised if anything that came out of her mouth was genuine.”

Marinette’s head was reeling. Lila, fake? In what world? Lila was one of the sweetest people Marinette knew. What was Alya getting on about? “You don’t even know her!”

Alya stood up off the couch, moving towards their room. “I don’t need to. I can tell just by watching your weird interactions together,” her tone implying that it was obvious. 

Marinette sat back in her chair, winded. Alya disappeared into their bedroom and Lila still hadn’t returned.

Plagg poked back out of Marinette’s pocket. “What do you think of all this?” she asked her kwami.

He shrugged. “She seemed like a nice, normal girl to me. But I trust Alya.”

Marinette’s stomach twisted. She trusted Alya, too. But it felt like these accusations were coming out of nowhere, completely unfounded. Alya was a journalist. It was unlike her to jump to conclusions without evidence. But were Marinette’s interactions with Lila sufficient evidence?

The door opened and Marinette’s head snapped up from her pocket. Plagg had made himself scarce. Both Lila and Alya emerged at once, and Marinette’s brow furrowed. That was odd. Alya’s face was set in a hard line; Lila was smiling as she almost always did.

Lila returned to her seat across from Marinette. “Thanks for letting me use your bathroom.”

“Sure,” was all Marinette could say, trying to keep the smile from wobbling off of her lips.

They discussed their plans for the party’s music a bit longer, and Lila chuckled when Marinette confided that she wasn’t sure she was equipped to provide the tunes if things didn’t work out with Nino.

“There’s no need to worry! We can just make a playlist together! I have some party jams, it’ll be cool, even though having DJ would be way cooler.” Lila waved a hand to dismiss Marinette’s concern.

Marinette let herself relax at how understanding Lila was being. Everything was back to normal. So what was going on with Alya?

Lila’s phone suddenly buzzed. “Oh, gosh! I should get going!”

Surprised, but wanting to be a good host, Marinette stood from the table when Lila did. “Already? It’s been, like, twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry, Marinette. I have to meet with another friend who is making the decorations.”

“Ah. I see. Have fun and I’ll get the supplies to make the macarons.” Marinette followed Lila to the door, seeing her friend out.

“It was fun though! We’ll hang again!”

“For sure,” Marinette smiled, opening the door.

“See ya!” Lila called as she headed down the stairs.

When Marinette closed the door, her eyes landed on Alya. She wanted to be upset at her roommate, wanted to blame her for making something out of nothing, but she couldn’t find it in herself. Her shoulders fell as she met Alya’s defiant gaze. “I want to believe you, Alya, I really do. But I’ve known Lila for a while now, and the two of you have only just met. I’m sorry if I think I’m a better judge of her character as a result.”

Alya sighed, scooting over on the sofa, motioning for Marinette to join her. Marinette did so, and Alya adjusted the glasses on her nose before speaking. “Under other circumstances, I’d probably agree with you. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. Maybe the context of our meeting is all wrong. Maybe Lila is just stressed. Any of these reasons might make someone give off a bad impression.”

Marinette wanted to be reassured, but she knew the caveat was coming.

“The thing is, Lila didn’t go to the bathroom.”

Marinette was taken aback. “How do you —”

“I know because when I went into our room, I found her rummaging in your stuff,” she interrupted pointedly.

“What…?” Marinette asked, but it was a ghost of a question, a whisper, as Marinette’s voice died on her tongue. Her blood was like ice in her veins. Immediately her mind jumped back to the locker break-in. Had Lila been lying when she’d explained it away? 

Alya’s brows crinkled together with guilt. “I didn’t realize how close you thought the two of you were. When I opened the door, she jumped up suddenly and hid something behind her back. She was standing at your bedside; your craft drawer was open. I immediately approached her about it. She tried to lie that she was just grabbing something you needed, but I knew you hadn’t asked her to do that. I asked her what her deal was, why she was being such a fake, but she denied everything, of course. She tried to reassure me and even suggested I leave but I laughed at that, told her, ‘nuh-uh, honey. I’m not budging till you do.’ She smiled at me but I could tell she was annoyed, but she dropped whatever it was she had taken back into the drawer and did as I said.”

Marinette just sat there, listening to Alya, not knowing what to think. How could Lila do something like that? And then another more pressing, more haunting question emerged. What was she trying to find?

Alya put her hand on Marinette’s shoulder, making their eyes meet. “Look. She didn’t tell me anything. Maybe I really am just jumping to conclusions, and Lila is simply weird but harmless overall. But I’ve never seen someone lie so well. I’m nervous what her motives are.”

Marinette rubbed her hand against her arm, mulling over that. Lila had been so kind to Marinette this whole time. What could her motives be for lying? She just moved into a new apartment and must be lonely. Maybe she didn’t know how to make friends well, and this was her way of going about it? Poking around in people’s things? Marinette sighed. “Thanks for telling me all this, Alya. I’ll keep my eyes peeled from now on. But I’m still going to go through with this party. She’s my coworker and I don’t want to create workplace tension.”

Alya nodded, even though Marinette could tell she didn’t agree with her choices. However, Alya didn’t voice any disagreeing thoughts. “Okay. You should probably go make sure none of your stuff is missing. I don’t know what she could have been up to while you and I were talking.”

Marinette wanted to say “in the bathroom,” because that’s where she’d said she’d be, but she stayed silent, only nodding and getting off the couch. She went into the bedroom, closed the door behind her, and just rested against it for a moment. Plagg popped back out of her pocket and flew about the room, sniffing about to see if anything had been touched, scanning to see if anything had been moved.

“Everything seems the same to me,” Plagg announced from under the bed. Marinette said nothing, moving to her craft drawers and opening the top. The fabrics had been shifted, but it was so minute, she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been suspicious. Lila was good at going through people’s things, and Marinette didn’t want to follow that line of thought to figure out why.

She opened the next drawer. Everything was the same except for a bracelet that was carelessly thrown down next to some sequins and beads. Marinette pulled it out and hung it back on her jewelry tree, which was on the shelf above the drawer. She stopped short when she realized that two of her rings had switched places. Her heart froze. Lila had been examining her rings…?

Without thinking, Marinette ran to her desk and opened the jar of mints sitting innocuously beside her pencil case. She stopped breathing as she lifted it up, opened the lid and —

Her breath tumbled out in relief. It was still there. The bee miracle stone. She put her hand on her chest to normalize her heart rate. 

Plagg stiffened on her shoulder. “You don’t think… she was looking for that, do you?” his voice hollow, horrified.

But Marinette shook her head. “I don’t think so, Plagg. But I’ve made an important realization. I need to wear this at all times. Even if my purse isn’t big enough to fit two kwamis. I’m not sure what I’d do if I lost it.”

So, Marinette glanced at the clock. She still had half an hour before her internship. She plugged in her sewing machine, got out some fabrics, a spool of thread, scissors…

Plagg sat atop the machine and watched her cut open the side of her purse after dumping its few contents on the bed. Marinette looked up at him, smiled, laid the purse onto her lap, and slipped the other ring on her pointer finger. She closed her eyes at the flash of light but grinned when Pollen appeared.

“Now you two can have a little company,” Marinette offered, beginning to measure out fabric. She was thankful she still had enough left of the pattern from when she had made the purse in the first place.

Pollen flew about, excitedly exploring Marinette’s room for the first time. Plagg followed her, scolding her for being nosy but immediately showing off everything he found fascinating. He had her try some Cheese-Itz, but she didn’t care for them.

“Pollen,” Marinette called. “What snack would you prefer?”

“Anything with honey, majesty!” she responded instantly, vaulting back over to Marinette jubilantly. Marinette giggled, petting the top of the kwami’s head with her finger.

“I think that can be arranged.”

With a few minutes to spare, Marinette put the finishing touches on her purse, which was now a little larger than twice its previous size. She brandished it out to the kwamis. “Try it out, see if you fit,” she asked.

Pollen bubbled, “I’ve never been carried in a purse before!” and dove right in. Plagg followed suit and Marinette looked in at them, satisfied that they could both sit comfortably inside it.

“You guys will have to keep quiet in there, though. If someone heard my purse talking, they might be concerned.”

Plagg waved a paw, as if it was no big deal, but Pollen nodded obediently. Marinette closed the purse, grabbed everything she needed for the Parisian Design House, and left the room, stopping at the kitchen to throw a few honey and butter cookies into a plastic bag for Pollen.

She stopped at the front door. Alya was on the phone with Nino but she covered the receiver and asked, “Anything missing?”

Marinette just shook her head. “Thank you, though.”

Although Marinette had every intention to go to her internship, the peacock stone wielder had other ideas. Marinette had just stepped foot across the threshold at the PDH when everyone’s phones went off at once. Mireille shrieked and held her phone away from herself, yelling, “A monster! Over by the university!”

Marinette didn’t have to make up a phony excuse. She just darted back towards the direction she had come from, unnoticed. She pulled over behind a tourist map and opened her purse. “I hope both of you have had enough to eat.”

Plagg still had some crumbs on his whiskers, but Pollen, ever the regal one, looked impeccable. “We’re ready when you are, majesty!”

“Alright,” Marinette clenched her fists, hesitating. If the last battle was anything to go off of, this sentimonster would mean business. She just hoped that having the extra kwamis on their side would be enough to turn the tables. “Plagg, Pollen, transform me!”

The kwamis vanished into their respective rings, and Buzzy Noire unhooked the spinning top from around her waist and raced to Rue Françoise-Dupont, eyes scanning the rooftops for her red-and-green partner all the while.

She didn’t have to look hard to find the sentimonster. As soon as she got close to the university, she could see it. It was huge and bulky, just like the old sentimonsters had been. Buzzy’s heart relaxed in relief. Would this be another battle like any other? Was the previous one just a strange exception, and they were going overboard by using their fusions?

Her thoughts were brought to an abrupt stop as the monster threw its head back and gave a great wailing roar, and Buzzy Noire nearly tripped over a shingle as she got a good look at its face. There was a sentient being in there, all right. If anything, this fight would be more fearsome than the last.

Buzzy’s eyebrows knitted together beneath her mask. The sentimonster was tall. And it seemed to be made entirely of sand. Sand poured from the monster’s body as it moved, spewed from its mouth when it roared. Buzzy tried to comfort herself with the thought that at least there were no vines to try and tie them up with.

Tortunello joined her, landing at her side as he usually did. “Looks like we’ve gotten ourselves into a gritty situation,” he leered, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Ha ha.” Buzzy rolled her eyes, but she chuckled despite herself. “What do you think is the best approach for dealing with this sandman?”

“Don’t let him put you to sleep?” he shrugged, still messing around.

Buzzy Noire gave him a look and he dropped the act. 

“Okay, okay.” He steeled his features, glaring intently at the rampaging monster.

They both watched it until the sentimonster turned to glare right at them. It chuckled, low and ominous, the voice rumbling. “There you two are. Paris’ lovebirds. When I’m through with you, you’ll both be nothing more than a memory!” The monster threw its head back and let out another cry, sticky sand flying right toward them. Buzzy Noire and Tortunello jumped away from one another to avoid being hit, then regrouped on an adjacent rooftop. 

“So. The new sentimonsters seem to like making threats.”

But Buzzy’s head and stomach spun in unease. The monster was right — they were still Paris’ lovebirds. It looked like Tortunello wasn’t going to be able to make good on his promise to either break up or reveal by the next fight (i.e. right now) which meant that they were still at a dangerous disadvantage, regardless of their new powers. She gulped.

Tortunello met her eyes, and his own narrowed. Buzzy Noire could see the guilt swirling in those mirrors, and she felt even sicker. This was going to be a disaster.

Tortunello put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

Buzzy Noire couldn’t agree but she didn’t say so. Instead, she leaped ahead to learn more about their opponent. Tortunello followed as she dodged sandy sprays, both heroes examining the monster from all sides. Where could the hidden victim be?

“No more games!” it bellowed, and Buzzy Noire ducked more projectile sand. No more games? They had arrived on the scene less than five minutes ago!

“Has anyone told you that you need to learn some patience?” Tortunello leered, jumping away from his partner to distract the monster, letting her get out of the line of fire to come up with a plan. Buzzy Noire was grateful, but her mind was blank. All she could think about was how doomed they were, and though she realized her mindset wasn’t helping, she couldn’t get it to break.

Unfortunately, the sentimonster saw right through Tortunello and turned at the last second to lash its arm out, spraying sand at Buzzy Noire, catching her feet and pulling her to the concrete ground. Buzzy screamed, expecting her fall to hurt, but her cry caught in her throat as she felt no impact at all. She looked down and her lower half was submerged in sand, and the rest of her body was sinking fast.

Not sand. Quicksand.

Buzzy tried not to panic, but it was pointless. She had already been panicking, and with that realization came the hyperventilating. This was it. They were going to lose. She could feel it.

Her miracle stones were already covered, sinking lower. They belonged to the enemy now. There was no hope for them.

Her eyes began to fill as her heart grew heavy in her chest. They failed, and now they were going to lose two miracle stones each. Fu should never have trusted her.

But while Buzzy Noire was sinking further, both figuratively and literally, Tortunello had been coming up with a strategy of his own. He threw himself forward, landing right beside Buzzy from his spot on the rooftop.

“What are you doing?” she asked frantically. “You’ll get stuck!” Even if she was a lost cause, he could still get away, still save some miracle stones from falling into the enemy’s hands.

But Tortunello looked down at her and gave her his soft, confident smile. “Relax, my love.”

His confidence cut through to her. He wouldn’t be so composed if the fight was over, if they had failed. Buzzy Noire nodded minutely, trying to get a grip on her breathing. She didn’t know what Tortunello’s plan was, but she knew she trusted him.

“Protection!” he exclaimed, holding out his turtle shell and surrounding them both with an impenetrable green bubble. 

The monster roared in anger at having been thwarted. “You think you’re so clever? Even your added powers won’t help you!”

But it was an empty threat, because the heroes were safe from everything with Tortunello’s protection. He grinned at the sandman before turning to Buzzy.

“Keep still. Struggling makes you sink.” She froze at his words and he gripped her under her arms to pull her out of the trap, and Buzzy was amazed that the sand was like putty; it stayed together, leaving her completely clean upon removal.

She took a moment to catch her breath before looking up at her rescuer. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he squeezed her arm to comfort her for a moment before he turned to look back at the sentimonster. “This one is so big, I’m not sure where the person inside could be. But I say we aim for the middle, because we’ll have the best chance of finding them there.”

Buzzy Noire nodded breathlessly. “Sure. Your idea sounds excellent.”

“Lucky charm!” he called, and when the pink light vanished, the duo beheld a small, hand-sized slingshot.

Tortunello scratched his head, but something above them caught Buzzy’s eye.

The sentimonster had unearthed a street sign, and was lifting it up to bash the protective bubble the heroes were encased in.

Buzzy Noire opened her mouth to warn Tortunello, but she was too late.

The street sign came down, and all Buzzy could do was jump on Tortunello to keep him from getting hit. The protection fizzled and disappeared, and the slingshot went flying out of Tortunello’s surprised grip.

They didn’t have time to look for the lucky charm — they were on their feet in a moment, sprinting and flying away from the monster.

“Why did the shelter break?” Buzzy Noire called over the sound of the wind.

“I wasn’t focusing! It was weak!” Tortunello answered, ducking another swipe of the street sign, dodging a spray of sand.

Buzzy’s nerves began to eat at her again, but she shook her head. She had been a mess earlier, and look where that had gotten her. She needed to focus, otherwise she’d be weak, just like Tortunello’s protection power.

She looked down at her two weapons. She had enhanced abilities now. So why was she stressing out and running away like some weakling? Like an amateur?

Buzzy Noire shifted her attention, putting escaping on autopilot. What did they need the most now? What would be the most helpful?

Time, was the answer that screamed from the depths of her adrenaline-overdosed blood. They needed time to come up with a plan, to think, to find the lucky charm.

Buzzy grinned wickedly, pulling her spinning top from her waist. They needed time, and she could give it to them.

Without warning, she turned around and sped toward the sentimonster, surprising both it and her partner.

“Venom!” she screamed, feeling the electric power spring up in her palm, bright yellow and terribly exhilarating. It pulsed and beat like it had its own menacing heart, quivering and anxious to strike. Buzzy Noire spun closer to the monster, jumping up as she closed the distance, pressing her palm firmly to its chest, feeling relief like a long exhale when the power discharged, rendering the sentimonster completely immobile.

Fluidly, she threw herself over its shoulder, landing on the ground behind it on her feet, with all the grace of a cat. She wanted to holler in excitement, to celebrate, but she knew they must not have a lot of time. She wasn’t the most experienced miracle stone holder, or the most confident. A few minutes was all she could guarantee.

Tortunello landed at her side, giving her a smile. “Nice one!” 

She nodded happily, and then they split up to look for the lucky charm. As she searched, Buzzy raked over her mind. How on Earth could they use a slingshot? They had nothing to launch at it, and throwing the charm itself seemed silly. What had Tikki been thinking? They had no projectiles. Unless…? Buzzy Noire’s eyes grew wide, and she ran to meet with Tortunello.

Buzzy returned to the street where they had parted, hoping to find him quickly. Any second now, the monster would come back to life.

Tortunello was flying above her, using his yo-yo as a helicopter, scanning the ground. Buzzy Noire waved, trying to call him back. After some hesitation, he touched down in front of her. “What is it?”

She shook her head. “I think the charm was a little different this time. More like a clue. I think… it was telling us to shoot something at the monster — and that thing was me.”

Tortunello balked. “What?”

Buzzy Noire nodded. “I can’t think of how else to use it, even if we found it and turned it into an unlucky charm. It’s too small for a foe like this.”

Tortunello grew uneasy. “What do you suggest then?” He was narrowing his eyes at her, unsure whether her theory was correct.

Buzzy Noire ducked her head, positive that Tortunello wouldn’t like what was coming next. “Detransform? And summon another charm?”

Tortunello stiffened. “No way, I’m not going to leave you defenseless!”

Buzzy Noire crossed her arms, indignant. “I’m not defenseless. And this arguing is a waste of time. If I’m wrong, then the charm will just be another slingshot. But it’s pointless to run all over creation looking for it, when you can just make another.”

Tortunello eyed the sentimonster, which they could see peeking out above the tops of the buildings, still stiff and unmoving. “Fine. But don’t get into another sticky situation — pun not intended!” he called, winking, vanishing into an alley.

Buzzy Noire headed back to the sand monster, to focus on making her power last longer (even though she wasn’t entirely sure if that was how it worked), leaving Tortunello alone to feed his kwami. She hoped she could give him enough time.

She spun her top and launched herself to the sentimonster, thinking of nothing but keeping it rooted to the spot. Her feet touched a rooftop and she stared at the being, trying to exert mental strength over it. She wished Mme. Lenoir was here, so that she could ask what it took to become a strong miracle stone wielder. It seemed as though Coccinello already had a good grip on his new powers, but she felt like she was just scratching the surface of hers.

The more she thought about it, the longer she stared at the monster, the more she realized that becoming stronger was all she wanted. She had been so happy, so confident, before the peacock wielder changed tactics. Now that the sentimonsters were tougher, Buzzy Noire felt out of her depths all over again, just like she had in the beginning. She needed to get a strong grip on herself, on the situation, and on her powers. She needed to find out what it took to get there again.

Abruptly, the monster shuddered, blinking, and Buzzy Noire looked up in horror as she realized her time was done. She had been focusing so well, too!

She dodged sand as she hopped away, shaking her head, hoping Tortunello was back in action. She would need him if they were going to stop this thing.

She ran around the corner, calling, “Tortunello? Time’s up!” Buzzy Noire threw herself against the wall, watching for the sentimonster to come around. A plan was forming in her head. It was a little half-baked, but she hoped it would work…

“Lucky charm!” echoed from the alley behind her, and Buzzy Noire smiled.

“Cataclysm!” she replied, ready to catch whatever he threw at her, even if it was another slingshot.

The monster came tearing around the corner just as Buzzy Noire turned to see a red object sailing through the air. It landed in her hand and turned blackish-purple, hissing with power.

Buzzy Noire jumped backward a few times, glancing at the charm. It was a tube of breath mints.

Buzzy’s eyebrows raised. This was a new one. But without further ado, she tossed it to Tortunello. “Launch this into its mouth!”

Tortunello lassoed it with his yo-yo to avoid touching the unlucky charm. Buzzy knew it was her turn to rile up the monster; it seemed to be ignoring Tortunello altogether.

“So, you didn’t like that trick I played, huh?” she teased, jumping out of the way, leading it somewhere more exposed, so that Tortunello could do his part easily.

“No!” it bellowed. “You’ve made a fool of my mistress for the last time, Kitty Noire!” and it launched more sand in her direction, but she saw it coming a mile away.

“Actually,” she called over her shoulder, turning and bounding off the side of a building, aiming for a streetlight. “I’m Buzzy Noire now!”

When Buzzy’s feet landed, the sentimonster opened its mouth to spew her with sand, and Tortunello whipped his yo-yo, sending the unlucky charm flying right into the monster’s gaping — surprised — mouth. Instinctively, it swallowed, and Tortunello wrapped his yo-yo around Buzzy Noire to pull her out of the way before the monster exploded in a shower of sticky sand.

As the dust settled, the heroes looked down to find the victim, a young man, laying in a small pile of sand.

All of the fans that had assembled to watch the fight, but had hidden in order to avoid the quicksand, came out and cheered loudly. Buzzy Noire was relieved that they had won, but she tuned out the excited cries. There was a more important post-battle conversation on her mind.

Tortunello plucked out the evil feather, the victim came to, the heroes helped him onto the waiting stretcher, and then they waved at Nadja Chamack and Clara Contard before leaving the scene.

Buzzy Noire was as nervous now as she had been at the beginning of the battle. Yes, they had won, but the success tasted sour on her tongue. They had also made a lot of foolish mistakes. Yes, they had done better than their last fight, but not by enough.

Tortunello caught her mood shift. He stopped on an inconspicuous rooftop, and when Buzzy Noire tried to gauge his thoughts with a look in his eyes, he glanced away, staring intently at the city around them.

Buzzy sighed. She didn’t want to do this, but she knew what Tortunello was thinking. He wasn’t ready to reveal identities, and probably never would be; she was kidding herself by holding out on him. 

There was only one solution left, the one she had tried to use all along. If they broke up, they would eventually fall out of love, and then they could go back to being level-headed, nothing more than a team in a dangerous game. Buzzy found it very hard to swallow all of a sudden, but she forced herself to be brave. She wanted to be a stronger miracle stone wielder, and if she couldn’t be strong now, then there was no hope for her. “Cocci,” she breathed.

“Mh-hm,” was his response, and it was flat, as if he knew what was coming.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself. She was doing it for the miracle stones. “You made me a promise. You said that by the time we had our next battle, we would have already made up our minds. We would have already revealed ourselves or broken up.”

They stood with their backs to each other, staring out at the Parisian afternoon. Tortunello said nothing, and so Buzzy’s tears became harder to fight off. Was he really so unmoved by what he knew was about to happen?

Her voice shook when she spoke again. “And since you don’t want to reveal identities, I think we both know what I’m about to do.”

Tortunello’s breath caught in his throat as she said that, and he whipped around to face her, putting his hand on her shoulder, desperately wheeling her closer, trying to see her face. Trying to ascertain if she was being genuine.

Buzzy Noire’s glassy eyes fell to her feet. She couldn’t look at him while she broke his heart. “We have to end this.”

“No we don’t,” Tortunello whispered fiercely, his grip on her shoulders tightening.

“There’s nothing else we can do. I’ve already proposed a solution. All you’ve done is tell me you can’t bear to break rules. You can’t have it both ways…”

Tortunello turned away, raking his hands over his short hair in frustration, but he said nothing.

She had hoped he was going to give in, to argue that she was right, that he’d rather do anything than lose her. But his silence was telling, and Buzzy Noire shook her head, growing upset with both him and herself. Why was he being so stubborn? Would he really rather lose her than break a rule? She wanted to open her mouth, to ask him, when he finally spoke.

“I just think… it would be worse for us. I think it would make fighting more dangerous if we knew each other. It would make everything so much realer. I wouldn’t be able to look at you and think, ‘oh, the girl I love is in trouble. But she’ll be okay; she’s really powerful.’ Instead, all I would be able to see is your civilian self, and I know that — if I met her — I’d kill myself trying to protect her.”

Tortunello’s blue eyes burned into Buzzy’s as he said it, and part of her melted into the floor at hearing his unwavering devotion. It was all she could have asked for. And yet, it terrified her. Because he was right.

There was nothing for it. It was dangerous no matter what they did; no matter where they stepped, a land mine waited for them, ready to burst in their faces. Because when it came to the other, they were in way too deep for any solution to work now — and any attempts to lessen the danger they found themselves in as a result, would fail miserably.

Those morbid thoughts threatened to send Buzzy Noire spiraling.

But, amazingly, for the first time, everything was clear. That was just it: there was nothing for it. Nothing they could do at all. They loved each other, and fighting that fact would only weaken them, distract them from focusing on what was more important. She found herself shaking her head, walking closer to Tortunello, trying with a smile to be confident.

“I think we’ve been operating under an assumption. That there’s some end-all-be-all solution that can put us at less of a disadvantage when it comes to the other. But I just had a realization. What are we doing?”

Tortunello’s eyebrows came together. “I don’t follow.”

She chuckled, but it was sad. “I love you, Cocci. I don’t want to be apart from you. I want to be as close to you as possible. And yes, things will be dangerous for us, but I can’t keep living in this limbo with you. Things have been dangerous for us ever since we became heroes, ever since we fell for each other. The solution to this problem isn’t to make things less dangerous — it’s to become stronger.”

Buzzy Noire could see that Tortunello wasn’t quite on board yet, so she held his hands and smiled. “The battle just now was hard. It would have been impossible for us if we were only using one miracle stone each. But we’re already getting stronger, I can feel it. The next battle will be even easier than this one, which was easier than the last. Yes, we made some mistakes, but don’t we always? Every battle has the possibility of being our last, but for some reason, I never remember that! I go into every fight thinking, this is it, this is the end.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I think what will help us to grow is a change of mindset. Instead of being afraid of what will happen, we need to throw ourselves in it and learn to maneuver our way out. Remember how afraid we were in our very first battle? The only thing that made it better was experience… and working together.” Buzzy’s eyes grew soft as she rambled, lost in her memories, trying to sort out her thoughts while she was having them.

Tortunello put a hand on her cheek, caressing her with his thumb. He smiled gently at her words, his eyes full of adoration.

“So… I think we need to do the same thing this time. We need to fight more battles with our new stones, and we need to work together better, get closer. I know you hate the idea, but I think a reveal is just the push we need. You mentioned that it would make things more real and well, even though I think they’ve been pretty real, I think making them realer would push us to work harder to protect each other, to help each other, to become a stronger team, and therefore stronger individuals. Isn’t that what love is all about?”

Tortunello laughed briefly, then he sighed heavily, holding Buzzy’s head in both hands. His shoulders fell. “I guess I don’t have much choice, now that you’ve explained it all so beautifully. And, well, it’s either this or breaking up, huh?”

Buzzy Noire’s own laugh rushed out of her lungs, a sound of relief. “Yes,” she hurried to respond, “I think so, anyway. Unless you came up with a compromise while I was babbling.”

Tortunello smiled and shook his head. “No, no. And even if I did, I think I agree too much with something in particular that you said.”

His lip turned up into a half smirk and Buzzy’s core trembled. “Oh? And… what was that, in particular?” she asked, almost unaware of what she was saying. Tortunello’s eyes were bright, captivating, and so sure of themselves. Her thoughts were lost in them, in the anticipation of what he was going to say.

He broke their gaze, eyes landing on their feet. Then, one of his hands slid to her shoulder, pulling her even closer, and he was back, gazing at her from beneath his lashes, a blush creeping up his neck. Buzzy Noire’s bones went soft, but then he spoke. 

“That I love you, and I don’t want to be apart from you, and I want to be as close to you as possible. You pretty much had me right then and there.”

Buzzy Noire’s lips split into a bright grin, all teeth. “So… this means yes? That… that you’ve agreed to the reveal?” She could hardly believe it. She had hoped she could convince him, but she never thought she really would.

His slow nod was all she needed. Buzzy threw her arms around him and closed the negligible space between them, holding him tight, her relief overwhelming her.

They were going to do this. And they were going to become stronger for it. That was a promise.

Chapter Text

Marinette waited for the elevator, hands trembling. This was really happening.

Plagg and Pollen poked their heads out of her purse to give her a reassuring smile. Marinette tried to return the gesture but felt her lips split into something between a grimace and frown. She sighed heavily when the elevator ding!ed and gave up on seeming calm.

She was about two minutes away from meeting Coccinello. Or, rather, the man who was Coccinello. AKA the love of her life. No pressure at all.

She pressed the “4” and tried to control her breathing as the elevator doors closed. To distract herself, she peeked at her phone for the time. It was 14:28 — she would be right on time.

The previous day, Tortunello had given her his address. He’d asked her if 14:30 worked for her, and since it was Sunday, and the PDH was closed, Marinette had agreed. He had mentioned that he lived alone, which was why his apartment was a good place to discuss everything they would want to talk about. Marinette tried to imagine the situation at her apartment and shuddered. Despite that, she was a little nervous to be alone with him, among everything else. She wasn’t sure what would be expected of her.

The elevator ding!ed again and opened to the fourth floor, and Marinette almost fell over.

She knew exactly where she was.

As she moved towards her destination, her eyes automatically closed in on the door in the middle of the hall. Apartment 76. Nino’s place. Even though she’d only been here once before, she would recognize it anywhere.

But that wasn’t the reason for her rising sense of dread.

Marinette turned her gaze very slowly to the apartment right next to Nino’s. Adrien’s apartment. Number 78.

Mechanically, she reached into her purse for the slip of paper Tortunello had written on yesterday. She lifted it to her eyes even though she already knew what she would see.

Number 78.

Marinette moved to stand in front of the door, just staring at those numbers. She gulped, head spinning. Denial set in instantly. This couldn’t be right. There must be some mistake. Maybe he wrote his address down wrong. Or maybe he was a friend of Adrien’s, and Adrien was nice enough to lend him the space for this meeting. Or maybe…

Marinette didn’t get more chances to sink further because Plagg flew out of her purse, rang the doorbell, and dived back out of sight.

“Plagg!” Pollen and Marinette cried in unison, although Pollen’s tone was a disapproving hiss and Marinette’s was a desperate whine.

Slow and muddled, as if in a dream, the door began to open. Marinette waited, frozen, stuck between wanting to bolt and wanting desperately to know if her suspicions were true.

First a sliver of an apartment, then a shoulder, then a lock of golden hair, and finally, Sunflower Boy stood in the opening, his eyebrows raised in his forehead, hidden under his untidy hair. His face was open, a little surprised, but there was no fear. Nothing like the utter terror which must have been all over Marinette’s features at that moment.

The sluggish dream feeling was still there, because it felt as if they stared at one another for ages, and finally, Marinette opened her mouth, still trying to find a way out, about to apologize for bothering him, about to say she had the wrong address, when he beat her to the punch.

“…Kitty?” Adrien breathed, and Marinette was left winded. It really was him. Adrien Agreste was Coccinello.

She flushed but could only nod in response, and Adrien stepped away from the threshold, gesturing for her to come in. She followed, her eyes darting around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him. She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, regarding her with curiosity now, a little bit of anxiety. 

“Um,” Adrien began, but his voice was hoarse, so he cleared his throat gently before trying again. “Can I get you anything…? Water, juice, coffee?”

She didn’t hear him. The gears in Marinette’s head were in danger of breaking, they were turning so rapidly, trying to process everything that was happening, while simultaneously trying to push it all away, to pretend it was nothing more than a strange dream. She blinked when she realized he had asked her something, his hands gesturing to the kitchenette. “Sure!” she responded, trying desperately to seem at ease.

Adrien’s shoulders fell and his eyebrows came together. “Um… which one?” He chuckled awkwardly and Marinette blushed.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she answered quickly, mortified, trying to recover.

Adrien nodded, disappearing around the counter to head to the refrigerator. Marinette silently smacked her face and forced herself to get a grip. She took a few deep breaths, shifting gears. Instead of stressing out about Adrien, she decided to admire his decorating skills. The apartment was very nice, similar to hers, but a little smaller, as it was a one bedroom.

The kitchen was spotless. She noticed that there was no dining table, just four barstools nestled underneath the counter. The floors were hardwood, unlike the laminate of her apartment, and Adrien had a blue rug underneath the chair and sofa in his living room. Of course, when she looked over at the sofa, she suddenly remembered that she had been in this apartment before. The window above the sofa was the one she had escaped out of the first time she had become Kitty Noire.

Her whole body was filled with a strange sense of déjà vu. It was as though she had come full circle.

Adrien was at her side, holding out a glass full of sparkling orange juice. He gave her a tentative smile as she took the drink, and she did her best to give him one in return. She realized this must be strange for him, as well.

“Would you like to take a seat?” he asked, looking over at the living area. Marinette folded herself into the chair, too nervous to sit directly beside him yet. Adrien took the half of the sofa that was closest to her. Marinette noticed that the coffee table had a glass top, and bright coasters sat in a holder near the center. She reached out and grabbed two, passing one to him, and rested her drink on it.

She wasn’t sure if he was going to speak first, or if she was supposed to, and if she was, she was at a loss at what to say. All that came to mind was, “So you’re Coccinello,” but that much was obvious, and didn’t need pointing out.

Marinette wrung her hands, combing her brain for something clever, or witty, but all she could focus on was the circus going on in her stomach. 

Fortunately, perhaps Adrien could see her nervousness, because he decided to break the ice. “Well… this is surreal.” 

Marinette’s head whipped up to look at him, and Adrien was staring into his glass with an expression on his face that made her laugh. He looked just as nervous as she was, but his eyes were wide, as if he wasn’t sure where to go from there. 

Her laugh disarmed him, and he chuckled as well, which softened his features. Suddenly, Adrien looked so much like Coccinello that Marinette’s throat dried up. She cursed herself for reacting that way. It would be more surprising if Adrien didn’t look like Coccinello.

“So, how have you been?” Marinette asked. Small talk was easy, even though it was purposeless.

Adrien’s shoulders relaxed. “Um, pretty fine. Classes are good. You?”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah. I’m helping a friend plan a party. Never done that before.”

Adrien chuckled. “Really? You’re not the party queen?” he teased, no doubt remembering the disaster that was Nino’s kickback. 

Marinette shook her head, amused. That party felt like it was a lifetime ago. “No, not at all.”

Adrien smiled and drank some more of his orange juice. Marinette picked hers up to try it. She didn’t particularly like orange juice but she didn’t want to be rude.

To her surprise and pleasure, it was much lighter than regular orange juice, and the carbonation was very pleasant. It tasted better than soda.

Well, Adrien was good at everything, she reasoned silently as she put the drink back down. Of course he had great taste in refreshments.

The pair lapsed into silence for a few beats. Marinette was trying to figure out what this meeting was for. She knew she had been the one who had wanted this, but she wasn’t expecting Coccinello to be someone she already knew. She had imagined the reveal playing out differently, with two strangers asking each other about anything and everything, getting to know one another as people. She realized that she had to do that here, too, with Adrien, but she had no clue how to start.

Just as she was about to speak, Plagg phased out of her purse. “Oh, that’s it! You two are being ridiculous!”

Marinette flushed magenta. “Plagg!” she hissed. But she didn’t have a chance to scold him more than that because someone else began speaking.

“See? I knew this was a bad idea! And I know it’s all your doing, Plagg!”

Marinette’s head whipped over to Adrien, and her eyebrows shot up as she regarded the small red kwami, who was floating right into Plagg’s face.

Adrien was just as embarrassed as Marinette had been, but he was stunned into silence. Marinette knew this must be Tikki.

“My doing? How can you accuse me without proof?” Plagg crossed his arms and looked away, all teasing.

But Tikki was enraged. “Of course it was your doing! You’re the one pulling the strings here! Every time we have a pair of wielders, you always want to do reveals! How many times do you have to be told it’s against the rules?!” she spat at him.

Plagg whirled around. “Stop being so uptight. There’s no danger in this. And who cares about that rule? It’s ancient!”

Tikki gasped. “How dare you…! The rules are in place for a reason, and that reason is to be obeyed. That’s the whole point of rules, Plagg. But no, the entity of chaos and destruction would never let himself be bound by rules,” she seethed, mocking. “You know, I begged Fu not to put you in commission anymore. And he almost agreed! Because you pull stunts like this!”

Now Plagg flew into Tikki’s face, genuinely insulted. “You wouldn’t dare. Fu loves me!”

Tikki grumbled. “I’m not sure why…”

“You know, Tikki, you’d be a lot more well-liked if you could just loosen up a little. No one likes a stick in the mud.”

Marinette wanted to say something, to help Plagg, but what could she say in an argument between centuries-old interdimensional beings? However, her concern grew to suspicion as she listened to them. What was Tikki saying? Plagg had told her in the movie theater restroom that he didn’t particularly care if they revealed identities… That wasn’t a lie, was it?

“I am not a stick in the mud! I just like things to be orderly. And this,” she gestured to the college students sitting stunned before them, “is not order!” She suddenly switched gears and turned to address Marinette. “I don’t know you very well at all, Marinette, so I can’t say anything, but this wouldn’t be happening today if you hadn’t gotten your claws into my Adrien. I know he would never approve of such monstrous rule-breaking of his own accord. But you’re not completely to blame. Your kwami, on the other hand,” she glared at Plagg, who flew in front of Marinette to defend her from Tikki’s accusations.

“Leave my wielder out of this!”

Marinette put her head in her hands. She wanted to defend herself, but she didn’t know what was going on. She hadn’t realized revealing identities would be such a big deal. In the end, Coccinello wasn’t too hard to win over once they realized where they stood. She had thought it was the answer. Had she been wrong? Was she endangering them all?

Pollen and Wayzz emerged at nearly the same time. “Stop this, you two!” Pollen commanded her fellow kwamis.

“Please, we’re agitating the wielders. Can we have this discussion elsewhere?” Wayzz put out his paws, trying to be placating.

Tikki shot them all dirty looks before conceding. “This doesn’t mean I approve of anything that’s happening right now!” she shouted, glaring daggers at Marinette.

The four of them disappeared into Adrien’s bedroom, and the quiet that descended on the room was heavy.

There was a moment, and Marinette released a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. She let out a weak chuckle and spoke without thinking. “Tikki doesn’t like me, huh…”

It wasn’t a question, and Marinette’s eyes shot up to look at Adrien, hoping desperately that she hadn’t offended him.

But she was worried for nothing. Adrien’s gaze was glued to the coffee table. He shook his head gently. “No, that’s not it, although I apologize for her behavior. This hasn’t been easy for her, and I think she’s mostly upset that I decided to go against what she wants, when I usually agree with her.” He hesitated a moment, Marinette could tell. She waited for him to finish, her nervousness resurfacing. He turned his eyes on her and gave her a small but assured smile. “But this matters to me more than the rules.”

Marinette blushed, her hand flying to the back of her neck. His smile was so lovely; it reminded her of a time that seemed like ages ago, a time when she had wanted nothing more than to be the reason for that smile, to feel that smile on her own.

Somehow, the resurgence of those feelings made her brave. Without thinking too much about the consequences, she admitted something that she thought she’d keep to herself until the day she died. “You know, Adrien, this is all so strange for me. And… it’s stranger still because I used to be so crazy about you. Before everything, after that party at Nino’s…” Marinette trailed off, her bravery evaporating. She had to remind herself that this was Coccinello. That nothing was weird between them. But when she looked up and saw Sunflower Boy, it was like her nerves couldn’t get the memo.

But Adrien didn’t laugh, as her insecurities feared he would. Instead his face turned just as vermillion and he squeaked out, “R-really?”

Marinette just nodded. “Yeah. I tried to confess to you a few times before I gave up. I guess I thought there was something between you and Chloé.”

Adrien’s eyebrow came up despite his embarrassment. “Me and Mlle. Bourgeois? What gave you that impression?”

She shrugged, her blush fading. He seemed confused at the whole concept, and hope bloomed in Marinette’s chest. Would she have had a chance with him after all? Was it really her own cowardice that kept her from being happy with him?

Obviously, she shook those thoughts from her head as soon as they made themselves clear. She was happy with Coccinello. She should be thankful that she had misinterpreted Adrien’s affections; she never would have found the love she had now without it.

“Well, it was just… the way you looked at each other. I’m not sure, really. But I had a feeling I wouldn’t be well-received if I made my feelings known.” Marinette settled on that as her answer, even though it wasn’t the entire truth.

Adrien’s face shifted into something Marinette couldn’t pin down. He looked… guilty? Sheepish?

Finally, one side of Adrien’s lips came up in a rueful smile, and he sighed. “I’m really sorry about that, Marinette. You’re a lovely girl, and I feel like such an idiot for not picking up on the signals you were probably sending me. But in the end, maybe it’s better off you didn’t confess to me after all. My affections were engaged, as you suspected… but not by Chloé. I was hung up over a… certain cat, since pretty much the get-go.”

Marinette couldn’t keep her mouth from falling open in shock. Adrien really was in love with someone for as long as they had known each other. And that someone had been her! Kitty Noire! Of course! 

The two of them locked eyes, and the laughter started softly, little chuckles of relief, little giggles at the irony of it all, and they built upon each other, growing into hearty chortles and finally full-bellied howls, tears forming in the corners of their eyes, spilling over in Marinette’s case, and when she reached up to wipe them away, she allowed herself to peek at Adrien. His face was bright with his amusement, and the sight took her breath away. He was her sunshine.

Abruptly, everything in Marinette’s mind clicked together. What was she doing? This was Coccinello! Who cared that he was also Adrien Agreste? Who cared that she had had a monstrous crush on him and had cried over him in her bedroom? All of that faded into the distance, and what stayed on the surface was the truth that this was the man she loved. Just because he was out of costume didn’t make him a different person.

Maybe Adrien came to a similar realization at the same time. Because all the tension seemed to leak from his posture, and now he was leaning toward her from his seat on the sofa, and she was leaning toward him on the chair, and then his hand found one of hers that had been resting in her lap. He caressed his thumb over her fingers and Marinette closed her eyes to better focus on the feeling. She took a deep breath and told herself not to be nervous. If there was anyone in the whole world she could be comfortable with, it was Coccinello. It was Adrien Agreste.

She steeled herself, swallowing softly, coming to a decision. She got up from the chair and placed herself beside him on the sofa, her heartbeat never slowing. Her nerves were still twisting and tightening in her stomach, but now it wasn’t because she didn’t know how to compose herself around him. Now it was because she was all too aware that they were in love, that they were alone in his apartment.

And there were no irremovable magical suits in their way.

Once she was next to him, Adrien angled himself toward her, his hands traveling to her hair, tangling in her midnight waves. It took no time and no effort for Marinette to shut her eyes and close the distance between them, her lips finding his lips, her hands finding his shoulders, his back.

Marinette couldn’t help but notice that things were certainly different, like this. Coccinello’s suit emphasized his shoulders and chest, and Adrien was a lot leaner in reality. Part of her wondered at that; at how, at times, the kiss was new, as if she was sharing it with someone she’d never kissed before, and at other times it was so familiar she couldn’t remember ever having kissed anyone else. It hit her somewhere in the middle, that it was because she was not only kissing Coccinello’s civilian identity. She was kissing Adrien. That fact made her smile.

Of course, Adrien was a gentleman. Marinette suspected that even if she had tried to seduce him, he would have resisted. It was their first meeting, after all. There would be plenty of time to learn everything about each other now that the masks were off.

So Adrien played with Marinette’s hair as she laid in his lap, his movements drowsy with happiness, his smile delirious with love.

“So tell me,” he asked, his eyes closed, his head resting back against the couch cushion. “What was it like for you, getting your miracle stone? I already knew Fu wasn’t completely transparent with you.”

Marinette turned her head to look into his face as she spoke. “Hm. Well, it was weird and stressful. Mostly because I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep the secret. But the power pulsing in the ring was impossible to resist…” she trailed off, replaying the memory. She played with her ring absently as she spoke.

“Resist?” Adrien asked. “Why would you have had to resist? I just put mine on immediately.”

“Well, I have History of Modern Fashion right after Chinese Mythology, and then I have work, so I didn’t get a chance to put it on until that night. It was really hard to resist. I know, all through class and work I kept wanting to slip away, to put it on. The way it sang to me was…” she shook her head, using the word Mme. Lenoir had used to describe the irresistible pull of the miracle stones. It wasn’t a song exactly, but it was reminiscent of the ancient greek myths, of what the sirens did to the unsuspecting sailors.

Adrien shook his head, dazed. “I don’t know how you did it. I don’t think I could have resisted. Fortunately I didn’t have to; Fu gave me the ring in his office hours.”

“Ah.” Marinette replied. She wished it had been the same for her. Fu’s office hours was the perfect place to get privacy without arousing suspicion. But she supposed it would have been awkward to pull off; Marinette had never gone to office hours before she became a wielder.

“Yup,” Adrien continued, oblivious to her mind’s wanderings. “I remember it so vividly. I went in to get more personal feedback on my paper, as I always do in classes like that one. And I remember the professor asking me some questions, about whether I could keep a secret, and if I was as devoted to my out-of-school activities as I was to my studies, and I was just so intrigued, I think I would have said yes to anything he’d asked, even if, maybe, it wasn’t the exact truth. But then he pulled out the miracle stone, and it was so beautiful, I was only half-hearing the things he said after that. It was a speech about how he trusted me to do the right thing, and my heart soared,” Adrien lifted up his shoulders as he said the word, as if he was reliving the scene behind his eyelids as he recounted it to her, and Marinette smiled. “Because my professor was trusting me in something special, you know. And I put the ring on at last, and Tikki came out of it, and she told me everything I needed to know about what was happening. The rest is history, as you know.”

Adrien opened his eyes and looked down at her, giving her a smile, squeezing her hand. 

Marinette returned both gestures, wishing that her experience had been like that. She thought it would have made her more confident, made her feel less like she was blindly thrown into something she knew so little about.

But, maybe it would have been easier for her to reject the responsibility, to let her fear control her, to refuse the ring. Her stomach turned at that thought, and she squeezed Adrien’s hand once more, thankful for the way things had played out, even if she may have wished it otherwise at the time.

Adrien toyed with Marinette’s hands, admiring their small size just as he had done before, on top of the Eiffel Tower, the night they had gotten Andre’s ice cream together. He ran his blunt fingertips over her pointed nails, marveled at the size difference of their palms, before interlocking their fingers together. Marinette flushed a little at feeling the soft skin beside hers. It was nothing like holding hands while wearing a magical costume.

“So,” she teased, since her mind was on Adrien, on the parts of him that she didn’t yet associate with Coccinello. “What was your first impression of me, at Nino’s party?”

Adrien’s eyes widened, and he smirked. “Hmm. What an unexpected question… If I’m being honest, I thought you were very pretty, but very shy. It was clear to me that you weren’t really interested in the whole thing. Admittedly, neither was I. I was just doing Nino a favor. He asked me to be there, probably because he and Alya wanted to set us up.” He stopped when Marinette blushed and covered her face. Adrien had known all of this during their first meeting? How humiliating!

He chuckled and pulled her hands away. “Don’t hide your lovely face, Marinette.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned, incredibly touched. She also tried to ignore the thrill that ran through her at the sound of her name in his voice, infused with so much adoration. Yes, he’d used that tone before. But it was different when he called her Kitty Noire, less real somehow. As if Kitty Noire was a different girl, a girl who was only 99% Marinette. This, being here, in his lap, with his gorgeous green eyes smiling down at her, calling her by her name, felt so much more real than any costumed confessions on a rooftop could do.

“Anyway,” he shook his head, his grin never wavering. “I knew what Nino was up to, and you were beautiful, but you were uncomfortable. I wondered if it was just the party atmosphere, or if you were a nervous person by nature. I remember thinking I’d liked to have met you somewhere more casual. I wondered how that would have gone. Like, in a café or something.”

Marinette bursted out laughing.

Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Uh oh. What did I say?”

She shook her head, her mind wheeling. The irony was painful, and she clutched her sides, trying to stop the laughter, aware that Adrien’s concern was growing by the second. “That’s exactly what I was planning to do! I was going to ask you out, to get coffee, and then I was going to spill my guts!” She sighed, catching her breath from her outburst. And then the implications of his words hit her, and her smile vanished. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? 

She swallowed hard. “…If you hadn’t ever met Kitty Noire, do you think that… things would have been different? Between us?”

Adrien frowned, pondering. His thumbs continued to caress her hands, and Marinette focused on that in the silence. Her thoughts, too, ran wild. Images of herself and Adrien sitting across from one another in a wooden booth, two steaming cups sitting ignored as they stared at one another, blushing and exchanging shy compliments. A world in which Marinette had never become Kitty Noire, and Adrien had never become Coccinello… Was it a world in which they would have found one another sooner? With less complications?

Adrien finally responded. “Maybe,” was all his wistful reply could give her, but in his eyes she could see those same images dancing across his vision. She smiled, and it was a small thing, but she was comforted nonetheless. It made Mme. Lenoir’s words about fate seem to ring a little truer for her. 

Marinette and Adrien chatted for hours, about anything and everything, just as she’d known they’d have to do. The sun was low in the sky, and they were laying on the sofa, Marinette’s head on Adrien’s chest, his arms about her, holding her close to him. Marinette was sure she could have fallen asleep here, under other circumstances. But she hung onto Adrien’s every word.

They looped back to Nino’s kickback somehow, and Marinette finally remembered that there was something she’d always wanted to ask him. “What was that game of confession, when you drank instead of admitting that you had wanted to kill someone before?”

Adrien laughed without humor, rolling his eyes, tightening his grip on her waist. “It wasn’t like I wanted to commit murder. I just didn’t want to go into my whole life’s story at a party. I figured one drink wouldn’t kill me, even if it’s not my activity of choice.”

Marinette stayed silent, listening to the heartbeat beneath her ear. It was steady, not like hers would have been had their situations been reversed. He sighed and opened his mouth, surprising her with his answer. “You know about my father, right?” Her eyebrows flew up, more in shock than in response, and Adrien looked at the ceiling as he recounted it to her. “So, he wasn’t the nicest guy ever. When I was growing up, he was really demanding and not understanding of me. He wanted me to be this perfect cherub, and he didn’t tolerate it if I ever put a toe out of line, if I ever expressed any independence whatsoever. I remember once, I was twelve or thirteen, and I wanted to change my hairstyle, so I started combing it differently, and he… at dinner, he got so upset when he saw me, he flew into a rage and yelled all about disobedience, and what was I doing, trying to make him look like an idiot, and all this stuff about ruining him and his image. I cried, of course.” He was quiet for a moment, running a hand in his hair absently. “It was absolutely child abuse, and if I had known how to call child protection services when I was that age, I would have done it. It was awful to have to get over the death of my mother without anyone there to comfort me, with a father that neglected me and berated me if my piano playing wasn’t perfect, even though I would play until my hands were sore, until my fingers would bleed. I had no friends, no one to talk to, because I was never able to leave the house. Not that there was anywhere to go; our mansion was the only thing for miles. And it was in these dark times, when I was miserable and lonely, that my thoughts would drift to a place where I wondered how different my life could be… if it had been my father in the crash instead. Or sometimes I’d dream about how my life could suddenly change if one day he just… keeled over.”

Adrien sighed, and Marinette regretted asking. His eyes looked pained, and all she could do was hold him closer, to hope to communicate with a touch that his life wasn’t like that anymore, that he was loved beyond belief now.

“I never did anything of course, but I did think about it. Fortunately, my father sent me to a prestigious academy when I was fifteen to do high school. And that was amazing. I was finally free to do whatever I wanted with my time, with my skills, heck, even with my hair. It was a boarding school in Belgium, so I only came home on holidays. He actually remarried while I was away. I like my stepmom, in general. She was his assistant after my mom passed. But it was after that, especially, I think, when my father finally let me go, finally understood that I was my own person, and I wasn’t going to stuff myself into a box for him anymore.”

Adrien stopped speaking, his eyes faraway. Marinette guessed that he was finished, and she smiled at him. “I’m glad.”

He looked into her eyes and gave her a smile in return. “In fact, that was where I met a few friends that I still have now, like Chloé.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Marinette wrinkled her own. “What happened between you two, anyway? Alya said she was an ex of yours.” She tried to strip her tone of any accusation, but she wasn’t entirely sure she had succeeded.

Adrien chuckled, completely at ease now. He poked her in the side, teasingly. “There’s no need to be jealous. Yes, we had a fling, but it was back then, in high school. It’s ancient history now. I don’t really think I’m her type, so it was destined to fail. But we’re still close friends. Sometimes we laugh about it, but mostly it’s been forgotten. We were just kids.”

Marinette blushed at how easily Adrien seemed to read her. But she allowed herself to be comforted by his words. Her brain still didn’t know how someone as malicious as Chloé could be such a close friend to him.

Adrien pulled her out of her thoughts by kissing the top of her head and asking, “Alright, now it’s your turn. What was your childhood like? I’m hoping much better than mine was.”

Marinette shifted a little, angling herself so that she could look into his eyes as she told the story. “There’s not much to tell. I was raised in the south of France. My parents own a bakery there, and we live in an apartment above it. Like you, I’m an only child, but I think it was difficult for my parents to conceive me. They sometimes call me their ‘little blessing’ and stuff like that. It was nice, but also a little smothering at times. I had the same problem as you in some aspects. I felt they didn’t leave me as much room to grow as I would have liked. I’m enjoying being in college so much because I can be my own person, and although I feel guilty about it, that’s the reason I hardly call them. Especially now that I have this gigantic secret that I’m terrified they’ll figure out if we talk for any extended period of time.” Marinette sighed, realizing that this was the first time she had voiced that particular concern. She wondered when her relationship with them, her mother especially, would go back to normal. After the peacock miracle stone was retrieved? When would that be?

Adrien misinterpreted her pause of shock as the end of what she was comfortable sharing. He squeezed her hand and asked, “How do you feel, now that someone you actually know knows that you’re Kitty Noire?”

Marinette let herself relax, trying to put her worries about her parents out of her head. She repositioned herself on Adrien’s shoulder and exhaled deeply. “I think I’m relieved. It makes it feel less like some crazy dream that any day now I could wake up from. But other times, I know it’s real because I could never dream up my relationship with you. It’s too dynamic for my limited creativity,” she admitted. “And Plagg. I could never come up with his half-cheeky, half-sincere personality.”

That got a chuckle out of Adrien. “I wonder where our kwamis got to, anyway. They really made themselves scarce.”

Marinette turned in Adrien’s arms, trying to see the door out of the corner of her eye, trying to spot them. He loosened his grip on her, asking, “Do you want to go look for them?”

She deliberated. They were probably still arguing, and she didn’t really want to barge in on that, especially after how livid Tikki seemed to be with herself in particular. Either that, or they were giving their wielders some privacy, and Marinette settled back comfortably in Adrien’s arms, shaking her head. If it was the latter, she would take advantage of their thoughtfulness.

They cuddled in silence for a while, Marinette teetering on the edge of sleep, when Adrien pulled her back to the present with a soft admission, said so gently she wouldn’t have been able to hear it had her ear not been near his lips. “I’m glad it was you, Marinette.”

Her eyes popped open in surprise, and her feelings of euphoria were put aside in favor of her curiosity, which was wondering why he felt that way, and what it was that made him say so, right here and now in particular. She raised her head off his shoulder to get a better look at the expression on his face.

The serenity there faded and was replaced with a frown. “I hope you’re not upset it was me after the way I made you feel, though.”

Marinette chuckled, shaking her head to reassure him. “I dunno, Adrien. If the worst thing that’s happened to me today is finding out I fell for the same guy twice, I think that means I’m having a pretty good day.”

Adrien’s eyes melted at hearing her words, and so, instead of asking him his reasons, Marinette relaxed back onto his shoulder, focusing on how happy she was, how lucky she was that both Coccinello and Adrien were hers.

She thought of how much time there would be to ask about reasons later, and couldn’t stop the smile that overtook her lips.

Chapter Text

It was late when Marinette left Adrien’s apartment, her feet not seeming to touch the ground. She briefly thought through all the different ways she could break the news to Alya, her heart sinking. How would her friend react?

Marinette hesitated getting out of the elevator when another thought struck her. There was something she needed to ask Plagg.

“Plagg,” Marinette called gently, opening her purse once she was out of Adrien’s building, standing in the brisk night air.

The kwami poked his head out questioningly, and Marinette squirmed. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to know what went on with you and Tikki. Specifically, about the accusations she made. She seemed to imply that… well, that I wasn’t the one who really wanted reveal myself to Adrien. That it was your idea, somehow.”

Plagg sighed heavily and exchanged a look with Pollen. “While it’s true that I’ve been more encouraging of wielder reveals in the past, I promise, I would never have chosen this route for you, Marinette. A reveal makes things more complicated, and I know how stressed you are already. All I did was stay out of your way once you decided it was what you wanted. And to Tikki, that was my crime.”

Marinette wanted to feel encouraged, but she wasn’t assured yet. “But what did she mean? Was she assuming you had suggested revealing as a solution to me?”

Plagg nodded. “I’m usually the one who tells my wearers that revealing could be a solution to their problems. But as I said, you came up with it all on your own, and Tikki just couldn’t comprehend that. She doesn’t understand the relationship you have with Adrien, doesn’t understand why anyone would ever want that. But don’t worry, I set her straight. Hopefully in the future, she’ll be less inhospitable.”

Marinette let out a breath in relief. She’d been imagining something else — maybe Plagg being able to influence her while she was transformed, or another unsettling theory. She was really glad that wasn’t the case. Plagg always had her best interests at heart.

She scratched between Plagg’s ears with a smile. “Thank you. I’m really happy Fu paired us together. I'm not sure how well Tikki and I would have got along.”

Plagg leaned into her touch. “It’s possible — you two are alike in many ways.”

But what Plagg didn’t need to say was that he was happy to be her kwami, too.

“WHAT?”

“Shh, Alya! Juleka and Mylène are asleep!” Marinette put out her hands to try to calm her friend down.

“Sorry, sorry,” Alya’s shoulders rose up to her ears. “But seriously, is this a joke?”

Marinette shook her head. This was going worse than she had imagined. “No. I swear, I’ve been at his apartment all day.”

Alya narrowed her eyes. “But I thought that boat left the harbor?” She echoed Marinette’s own words on the subject, and Marinette blushed and stiffened defensively.

“It did, but… every boat has to dock eventually,” Marinette retorted, growing frustrated.

Her firmness made Alya’s shoulders fall. “I just… don’t get it. Were you lying when you said you were over him?”

Marinette sighed, hating to upset her closest friend. How was she going to pull this off? “No, I wasn’t, I swear. I was completely serious, but that was before I really got to know him.”

Alya raised an eyebrow, so Marinette realized she had to elaborate. But how was she going to convince Alya that she was in love with Adrien when she couldn’t share anything about their pasts? She racked her brain, cursing herself. Now would be an excellent time for those cover stories she said she’d make up!

Marinette noticed Alya shift, as though Marinette was doing an awful job being convincing. So she sighed and blurted out a story that she hoped would be believable.

“We… bumped into each other at ChiCafé, and… I really didn’t want to talk, but I couldn’t be rude, and so we chatted and we got onto the subject of… Chloé, and, well, I ended up admitting to him that I used to like him, and he…” Marinette smiled to herself, remembering the look on Adrien’s face, allowing that image to relax her. “He was so surprised, and he told me he also used to like me, and that there was never anything between him and Chloé, and it was all just a big misunderstanding,” Marinette rushed out, catching a breath at the end, and being unable to hide her smile and the glow on her cheeks.

A slow smile of its own spread itself over Alya’s face, as though Marinette’s joy was contagious. She sighed, shaking her head. “Something like this could only happen to you two. I guess I’m happy for you.”

But Marinette’s stomach twisted. “You guess?”

Alya rolled her eyes. “I was sort of ready to hate him for all eternity. But now that I see how happy he makes you, and that all the anger we harbored was undeserved, well, I’m happy for you. I just wish the misunderstandings could have been avoided.”

Marinette opened her arms and embraced her friend, relief flooding her veins. “Thank you,” she breathed, and it wasn’t just for right now, it was for everything. Marinette was overwhelmed with the evidence of Alya’s devotion and loyalty.

“Of course,” was Alya’s equally soft reply as she returned her friend’s embrace.

After a moment, Marinette wiped a stray tear from her eye and chuckled. “And now we can finally double date!”

Alya’s eyes lit up like two beams and she clapped excitedly. “Oh. My. Goodness! I didn’t even think of that! Yes! We have to go to Andre’s! You haven’t had it yet!”

“Sounds like a date!” Marinette smiled ironically at the fact that she and Adrien had, in fact, been to Andre’s, on a different kind of date.

Marinette allowed herself to be happy. As the days went by, everything seemed to fit itself into place for her. Being with Adrien was as natural as breathing, and she could feel herself relax with him both in costume and out. Revealing themselves made everything feel so right. When she looked into his eyes (green or blue), she knew she was looking at her partner, her equal, the only one who understood her completely. And when he would squeeze her hand, or look at her the way he always used to do, a part of her turned soft knowing that he was thinking the same things about her.

The day after the reveal, a Monday, Marinette stood in front of the mirror, fixing her dark hair into pigtails and trying not to blush thinking about how she’d be with Adrien again in so little time. Of course, it would be in class, but still. Pollen giggled at Marinette when she noticed her wielder’s sudden attention to her appearance. “You know he loves you, you don’t have to pretty yourself up,” she teased.

Marinette tied the pigtails with Coccinello-red ribbons, her complexion glowing. “I know. But I want to. The last time I had a boyfriend was…” she hesitated, trying to think back that far. “Before high school, if you can believe that. It’s all so new again, and… I want to feel like a girl.”

Plagg rolled his eyes affectionately. “Marinette, you’ve been Coccinello’s — AKA Adrien’s — girlfriend for what, a few months now?”

But Marinette didn’t let his tone affect her buoyancy. “It’s different now. Having an anonymous superhero boyfriend feels like,” she paused as she pulled out a little makeup bag. “It feels more like some kind of fantastic dream I could wake up from. But this, well, I don’t know. He was right. It’s all so much realer.” Marinette stared into the makeup bag, her eyes unseeing, her thoughts lost in the amazing day she had had yesterday, and the amazing days she would continue to have.

After she had come back to the present, applied a little eyeliner, and finished getting ready, Marinette was delighted to see Adrien loitering near the entrance to their classroom, leaning against the wall, looking so much better than anyone had a right to look at ten in the morning.

Marinette fidgeted with her skirt as she closed the space between them, conscious that he was watching her all the while. When she was near enough to touch him, she made herself look up into his burning eyes. Wordlessly, Adrien lifted up his hand and ran his fingers along her jaw, a gentle caress, that trailed up her neck and into her pigtail. Adrien rubbed the strands between his fingers and finally cracked a crooked smile.

Marinette tried to calm her racing pulse. “Hi,” she breathed, unable to come up with a better greeting while her mind was turning to mush.

He snickered, dropping his hand, brushing his fingers against hers during the fall. “I’ve never seen you with your hair like this.”

Marinette just shrugged. She didn’t want to tell him that she wanted to look feminine and girly today, just for him, because she knew he’d laugh like Plagg and Pollen had.

“It’s really cute,” he added, trying to soothe her nerves. She realized this at once. There was nothing to be nervous about. Just because Coccinello’s civilian form happened to be a model it was no reason to go to pieces.

So, she set her shoulders, exhaled, and decided to be brave. “I wanted to look girly today.”

But Adrien only cocked his head in playful confusion. “You’re always girly, my love.”

She grinned, anxiety deflating. Of course he wasn’t going to laugh. “I suppose you’re right,” she replied, tucking a loose bang behind her ear. 

When her hand fell back to her side, Adrien moved off the wall and grasped it, intertwining their fingers and pulling her toward the lecture hall. He never moved his eyes from hers as he did so.

She colored. There it was again. He was looking at her in that way he always did, in unbridled adoration.

After a moment, Adrien stopped. “Oh. I suppose you might want to go back to your old seat?” he asked, trying to smile, but Marinette heard his dejected tone.

She squeezed his hand once and led him to the seat they had shared many weeks ago, when she had moved up to the front of the classroom to try to confess her feelings. As they sat, and Adrien beamed at her, that memory felt like another world. Another Adrien and Marinette, not the people they were now. She squeezed his hand again, incredibly thankful for the changes they had made.

They chatted lightly for a moment, and then Professor Fu walked up to the podium and began setting his things up for the lecture. He didn’t seem to notice Marinette’s presence in the front row yet, and she held her breath. She and Adrien were still holding hands; would Fu put it all together?

She began to fidget. If hero romances were simply against the rules, identity reveals were probably a criminal offense. Would he take away their miracle stones for insubordination? Why was this the first time this had occurred to her? Suddenly she felt a little unsure that the PDA was the best idea. But then again, Fu would probably figure it out somehow. Maybe someone would accidentally spill the beans in office hours, or during a guardians meeting, or he might walk down the hall and see them together and…

Professor Fu finally looked up, and Marinette’s spiraling thoughts screeched to a halt.

He saw them, and was about to turn back to his paperwork when his head whipped up again, eyes narrowed. His gaze zeroed in on the interlocked fingers, on Marinette’s sheepish expression and stiff demeanor.

Fu gave her a questioning look; she could read the “is this what I think it is?” in his eyes. She squirmed, unsure what to do. Should she nod, or should she play it off to not concern him? And if she did, would that be lying?

Adrien broke the tension by cheerily calling, “Good morning, professor! How are you doing today?”

Fu swallowed his suspicion and smiled back at Adrien. “I’m doing wonderfully, M. Agreste. Thank you for asking. I trust you and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng are also doing well?” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Marinette. Her unoccupied hand flew to the back of her neck, and she couldn’t stop a nervous chuckle from escaping.

But Adrien squeezed her hand, turning his gaze on her and giving her his favorite smile, and Marinette felt the tension leave her body. Why was she freaking out? Sure, the worst that could happen would be the end of their days as heroes, which would, of course, be awful. But Marinette reassured herself that Coccinello was here, beside her, and she didn’t need to be Kitty Noire to ensure that he would stay there.

“Never been better,” he replied to Professor Fu, but his eyes remained on Marinette’s. Marinette stayed there a moment, lost in his gaze, unable to control the flood of happiness in her stomach. Adrien was so fearless — as if losing his miracle stone was nothing as long as he had her.

When she ducked her head to look back at Fu, his expression had shifted. He still regarded them with disapproval, but he was fighting a smile. He finally sighed, drawing Adrien’s attention. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, but his eyes were telling them they were definitely expected in his office hours later.

Marinette giggled in relief as Professor Fu turned away to start the lesson, shaking his head. Her partner in crime snickered along with her.

Eventually, Professor Fu came around to the prospect of their identities no longer being a secret.

“I suppose it does make things easier,” he sighed. But he still lectured them on safety, and it was everything Marinette had already heard from Plagg and Coccinello himself. She knew this was the right choice. She could feel that this was their barrier to growing as a team, and as individuals.

And Marinette had been right to trust her intuition. As the days passed, more challenging sentimonsters appeared all over Paris, and Buzzy Noire could feel herself become more relaxed on the battlefield, and with it, more confident, and thus, more powerful. Wielding two miracle stones almost felt like second nature to her now; she had a hard time imagining fighting with only one, as she had before. It simply wouldn’t be enough.

As she had predicted, the fights became easier and easier, and she and Tortunello grew more and more in sync. At the end of a battle against a giant moth-like sentimonster, Tortunello put a hand on her shoulder and asked, “Buzzy? Is it just me, or is it… too easy now?”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?” But she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what he was getting at.

Tortunello raked a hand over his buzz cut. “Like, I like being Tortunello. But I feel like I’m not getting any better. I can’t stop thinking about the other miracle stones. They seemed so complicated, like we’d have to be masters before we could wield them, but now… I kind of want to give them a try.” He stopped, gauging Buzzy’s expression, backtracking when she didn’t nod in agreement. “Is that insane? I know we aren’t masters or anything, but I just think a new challenge could be good for us, and…” he trailed off.

Buzzy’s shoulders fell. She had been feeling the same way for the last few battles. Under other circumstances, it would reassure her. They were finally at the point she had dreamed of getting to (she could use her venom power to paralyze her opponent for as long as five minutes) — they were finally so strong that even the most fearsome sentimonsters were little more than child’s play. But if she and Tortunello had both come to this conclusion, it was doubtless that the peacock wielder had also come to this conclusion, and probably much sooner than they had. For all they knew, their enemy could be working on a sentimonster so strong that they wouldn’t stand a chance against it, even at the level they had reached. Tortunello brought up a good point; trying out a more powerful miracle stone now, while their adversaries were still weak, was an excellent idea.

So, she gave Tortunello a grin and nodded. “I think we owe Mme. Lenoir a visit,” and she raised her eyebrows conspiratorially.

Tortunello wiggled his shoulders in excitement. “I really thought you were going to shoot that idea down.” His expression grew serious. “I know how you feel about our safety on the battlefield.”

Buzzy Noire couldn’t disagree. A part of her did think it was a little insane to make themselves intentionally weaker. But she took a breath and told him, and herself, “Yes, but it’s for the best in the long run.”

After answering some of Nadja’s pestering questions, the heroes disappeared and landed in an obscured alley, detransforming together. Marinette really enjoyed getting to walk away from a battle and continuing to hang out with Coccinello. Usually they would meander around town, unless one of them had to be somewhere, in which case they walked together until they had to part ways, joking around and holding hands.

Today, however, Adrien was all business. “We should probably do the switch as soon as possible. There are never multiple sentimonsters in one day, so we have the rest of the afternoon to both return these stones, and contact M. Ramier to collect his.” Adrien’s shoulders slumped a little. Marinette was a little intimidated herself, but they both agreed that it would be foolish to wait too long. They wouldn’t want to be caught in a battle before they managed to get the new stones.

“I guess I’ll call Fu,” Marinette offered, pulling out her phone. She didn’t know where he’d be, but she hoped he wasn’t busy.

When Marinette moved to unlock her phone, her heart sank to see that her mother had called her while she had been fighting the sentimonster. The last time they had spoken was nearly a month ago…

But Marinette didn’t have time right now. At least that’s what she told herself, as she shook her head in an attempt to clear it before focusing on calling Fu.

Adrien watched over her shoulder as she scrolled through her contacts, tapping the number under their professor’s name. She put the phone to her ear as it began dialing, and Adrien put his head against the other side so he could hear as well.

Fu picked up on the second ring. “Yes?”

“I need a meeting,” she told him, trying to give as little information as possible.

“Oh. About your term paper?” 

Marinette’s brows pulled together. Making up code phrases on the fly was harder than she’d anticipated. “Um… yes. I need you to help both me and Adrien… revise our papers. We feel a particular…” Marinette wracked her brain for a good metaphor. “…element of them could be stronger, but we need your help to, um, exchange the weaker element of the paper for a stronger one.” She exhaled and looked to Adrien for approval. He nodded eagerly, giving her a thumbs up.

They were walking beside the Seine now, and Marinette paused to listen to Fu and to admire the way the river sparkled in the sunlight. She hadn’t come here to clear her head in a long while, and so she breathed in the harmonious atmosphere to give herself a boost now.

“Hmm, I see,” Fu responded. “Let me call you back,” and the line went dead before Marinette could open her mouth.

She put the phone in her pocket and shrugged at Adrien, who laughed. After a beat, he gestured to a bench and they both took a seat, watching the water, leaning against each other, waiting for Fu to return their call.

Marinette relaxed beside him and let her mind wander. What would their new miracle stones be like? Marinette was pretty sure she knew which one she wanted to use. How hard would it be to control? Marinette wondered absently if she and Adrien would practice together between sentimonster attacks. They had never done that before and it sounded fun…

Marinette’s phone buzzing pulled her out of her thoughts, and she launched off of Adrien’s shoulder with a jolt. His arm around her tightened in an automatic response to danger, but he relaxed it when she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

It was just a text message, reading, “15:30, Place de la Concorde. 20:00, Louvre Museum.”

Adrien checked his watch. “Looks like we’ll just make it if we head over now.”

They got up from the bench, Marinette putting her phone away, confused. “Aren’t those places a bit public?”

Adrien shook his head. “We’re probably just meeting up there. I’m sure Fu didn’t want to give us Mme. Lenoir’s address over the phone.”

Marinette considered that. “Do you think all his security precautions are really necessary? I mean, no one’s wiring our phones.”

Adrien merely shrugged. “He’s been a guardian for a long time. Who knows what he’s seen in the past. I won’t begrudge him his secrecy if it keeps us all safer.”

They arrived at La Place de la Concorde right on time, and sure enough, Mme. Lenoir was seated near the fountain, soaking up the afternoon sun and looking very content, not at all tense like Marinette felt she might be if she had been on a mission of the utmost secrecy.

Mme. Lenoir smiled when she saw them, and a chill ran down Marinette’s spine. They had only ever met while she and Adrien had been in costume. How did she possibly recognize them? Were their disguises so transparent?

Mme. Lenoir stood and joined them. “Hello. I assume you’re here to see me.”

Marinette relaxed. No, Mme. Lenoir didn’t recognize them. Their identities were safe. Fu had probably told her what to look for.

Adrien spoke up, “Yes we are. We were told you could help us with our term paper.”

Mme. Lenoir nodded. “Absolutely, you’ve come to the right place. Come with me.”

They walked with Mme. Lenoir out of the square and to a nearby apartment building. She led them to her flat and welcomed them inside, offering them tea and cookies.

“Thank you very much,” Marinette smiled, quite famished after their sentimonster battle.

“Of course,” Mme. Lenoir busied herself in the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home!”

Once Marinette and Adrien had seated themselves on the sofa, their kwamis felt safe enough to phase into the room. Plagg and Tikki were excited to be in a place they seemed to know well, but Pollen and Wayzz were less energetic than usual.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked her kwami.

Pollen did her best to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, nothing, don’t worry yourself, Marinette!”

Marinette tried not to let on that she was disappointed by that answer. Wayzz spoke up to reassure her. “I believe I’m not the only one a bit saddened to part with my current wielder.”

Marinette’s heart sank. “Oh…” She hadn’t had a chance to think that far ahead. Getting a new miracle stone was such an exciting prospect, she had forgotten that a new kwami was coming with it — and that her old one was being returned. 

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Marinette put out her hands and scooped Pollen up to nuzzle her against her cheek. “I’m so sorry we have to say goodbye. It’s been so much fun having you as my kwami, Pollen. I hope this isn’t the last time we get to fight together,” although as she said it, she couldn’t think of a reason it could be true. They were exchanging miracle stones because they needed to be stronger. There was no reason to go back to a weaker stone.

Pollen knew it as well, but she was still touched by the sentiment. “I hope so, too. It was lovely fighting by your side, majesty.”

Mme. Lenoir returned with the tea and sat across from the wielders. “It’s so nice to finally meet you two.” She set a teacup in front of each of them and smiled to herself. “Of course, I’m not entirely surprised that you revealed your identities to each other. I could feel that your bond was very strong.”

Marinette tried not to color and failed. Adrien brushed his hand against hers.

Mme. Lenoir grinned at their reactions and then turned to her kwamis. “I know you two must be sad to come back home to me,” she teased.

Wayzz and Pollen immediately perked up to reassure their guardian, flying onto her shoulders and into her hair to show their affection. Mme. Lenoir laughed, and it was a joyful sound, yet dainty and refined. “Oh, don’t be silly, now. I was only joking!”

Her kwamis rested themselves on the coffee table, their eyes bright. Marinette heard Tikki chuckle from her place on Adrien’s knee.

Mme. Lenoir offered them the plate of cookies. “So, you feel you need more power?”

Marinette took a shortbread cookie from the plate and nodded. “We think it would be best to challenge ourselves in case our opponents get stronger. Adrien and I both feel as though we’ve mastered the miracle stones you’ve lent us.”

Mme. Lenoir nodded in accordance, her facial expression letting them know that this was not news to her. “You’ve mastered these stones in exceptional timing, although that is no surprise. I knew you two had it in you.”

Marinette looked down at her cookie, a little abashed. How did Mme. Lenoir seem to know so much about them?

After about an hour, during which Mme. Lenoir was very hospitable, Adrien and Marinette took their borrowed rings off and returned them to their proper owner. Mme. Lenoir placed them in the case she always carried them in, their powers dormant while their kwamis rested inside them.

“I hope Pollen and Wayzz don’t get too bored,” Marinette commented sadly as Mme. Lenoir closed the case.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. I let them out to stretch their legs every so often. Did Pollen act as though she was being neglected?” Mme. Lenoir rolled her eyes.

Marinette chuckled. “She might have.”

Mme. Lenoir clucked her tongue teasingly. “What a drama queen,” she winked. Then she showed them to the door and gave them both a light embrace. “Stay safe for us, you two. And give my regards to M. Ramier.”

They promised her they would, and waved as they left, following the hallway and exiting out into the early evening light. As it was closer now to winter than it was to autumn, the sun was already beginning to set and the cold night breeze was picking up. Adrien wrapped an arm around Marinette to keep her warm.

“I like Mme. Lenoir a lot,” Marinette mentioned, still thinking of the nice time she’d had. Something about the guardian was so comforting, as if Mme. Lenoir had the unfathomable knowledge of a kwami, perhaps just by spending so much time with them.

The walk back to their apartments was quiet and reflective, and Marinette enjoyed that they could share a comfortable silence together. 

Adrien broke it when they were almost home. “Do you really think we might see Wayzz and Pollen again?”

Marinette thought about that, pushing down the sad “no” that wanted to emerge from her lips. Maybe once they defeated this enemy, there might be another one, years down the line. Maybe Pollen’s and Wayzz’s powers would be the best fit for the job. “It’s entirely possible,” was the answer she settled on.

Chapter Text

M. Ramier was an interesting fellow. 

Marinette had known that he was eccentric from the few times she had seen the local police force giving him a hard time for feeding the pigeons in the park. He had seemed very level-headed at the guardians meeting, as he explained the powers of his miracle stones to them — nothing like the crazy fool the police made him out to be.

But here, now, beside the Louvre, Marinette had the distinct feeling sinking in her gut, that M. Ramier was just as crazy as everyone said he was.

She and Adrien stood frozen by a bench and watched the man blow into a bird call at his neck, the cooing sounds attracting pigeons by the dozens.

“Are you sure this is the same M. Ramier? The guardian of the most powerful miracle stones known to man?” Adrien hissed out of one corner of his mouth.

Marinette’s brows came together in resignation. “The very same.”

Adrien squared his shoulders in determination. “Okay. Let’s get this over with,” he said, not sounding as confident as his words. Marinette rushed forward as he began to approach the guardian, grasping Adrien’s hand to steady herself.

M. Ramier looked up at them with a dim-witted smile decorating his otherwise somber features. “How can I help you?” he asked lightly, but Marinette caught the undertone. M. Ramier was well aware of what he was doing, and he was on a mission just as top-secret as Mme. Lenoir’s had been.

Marinette opened her mouth to answer when Adrien sneezed violently beside her.

Both M. Ramier and herself looked to Adrien in shock.

His nose was red and his eyes were half closed. “Sorry,” he answered, voice nasally. “I’m very allergic to pigeon feathers.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed in surprise.

“That’s very unfortunate. Perhaps we should go elsewhere?” M. Ramier hadn’t moved from his seat on the bench, but his expression was now completely serious, any trace of small-mindedness gone as if it had never been.

Adrien only nodded, trying to hold in another sneeze. Marinette held him comfortingly as they followed M. Ramier away from the museum, walking down the street, heading toward the Eiffel Tower. After a few minutes, Adrien’s allergies seemed to pass and he squeezed Marinette’s hand in a thank-you.

After a time that seemed to stretch too long, they arrived at some run-down tenements. Marinette’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. Was this where the guardian lived?

But no, M. Ramier didn’t lead them in. He turned down an alleyway, eyes darting everywhere to ensure that they were not being watched or followed. When he felt confident, he pulled out the box in which he kept his rings.

“I’m sorry I brought you on such a long walk, but the place I originally wanted to meet has been compromised.”

Marinette’s heart raced. “Compromised?”

M. Ramier nodded. “Yes. Someone was loitering there. They were very well-hidden, but I still saw them.”

Marinette’s head was spinning. “Wait, really? Someone that could be a danger to us? Or the stones?”

M. Ramier nodded once more, and the air turned heavy. “Of course. You don’t think Mme. Bustier simply gave away her miracle stone, do you? She was murdered in cold blood, and then it was taken from her. Which brings us to our current mission. Do you remember the powers I carry?”

Marinette couldn’t speak. She had been so flippant earlier about Fu’s security measures. If she hadn’t abided by them, or if she had been more careless, she could have unintentionally killed them all and allowed the miracle stones to fall into the wrong hands. The thought was sobering, like a slap in the face. This was no game. There were real people with bad intentions who wanted power. The fact that they were here now, borrowing M. Ramier’s stones to fight the sentimonsters and bring back the peacock stone, was evidence enough of that.

Adrien cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. The fox and the butterfly.”

M. Ramier looked pleased at that. “And do you know which one you’d like to wield?”

Adrien looked at Marinette, slightly sheepish. “The fox, if that’s okay with you?”

Marinette nodded, still reeling. She had wanted the fox herself, but suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was becoming more powerful, more disciplined. The butterfly would do, although she remembered little about its abilities. The fox had seemed so straightforward — illusion creating.

Adrien excitedly took the orange ring from M. Ramier’s box and slipped it on a finger. It glowed brightly, the kwami inside finally free.

The small fox stretched its limbs and smiled down at Adrien from where it was floating above his head. “Hello, there,” he spoke, then turned his attention to M. Ramier. “Is this my new wielder?”

“Temporarily.” Marinette hadn’t thought it was possible to stress every syllable of a word, but M. Ramier did.

But the kwami ignored him, flying about elatedly. “Alright! It will be so nice to be back on the battlefield again!” He landed in Adrien’s outstretched palm and lounged there, grinning up with pointed teeth. “I’m Trixx, by the way.”

Adrien could only laugh. “Wonderful to meet you.”

The scene took Marinette’s mind from her somber thoughts. She was suddenly thrilled to have another new kwami of her own. What would the butterfly be like?

M. Ramier turned to her, handing her the butterfly ring. Marinette thanked him and put the miracle stone on the same finger Pollen’s had been on. Lavender lit up the alleyway, and Marinette kept her eyes open enough to watch the ring transform on her finger. The delicate steel widened, became more substantial (as though made of silver now), and the wiry butterfly wings vanished altogether, instead forming a serpentine nest in which rested the ovular miracle stone.

Marinette’s breath escaped her lungs, the beauty of the ring completely enchanting her. Perhaps she was right to let Adrien have the fox. The butterfly was bewitching.

“Gorgeous,” an unfamiliar voice gushed beside her, and Marinette whipped to see the butterfly kwami over her shoulder, admiring her new ring along with her. “That’s a beautiful shape,” he added, and Marinette chuckled in relief.

“Thank you. I think… I think I’m going to like this miracle stone,” and as she spoke, she felt invigorated. She was going to master this miracle stone and rescue the peacock if it was the last thing she’d ever do!

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m Nooroo, your new kwami. My powers allow you to enchant a butterfly and use it to select an ally to help you in battle! All you have to do is say, ‘Nooroo, transform me!’”

Marinette smiled and opened her mouth to speak those words, but M. Ramier surprised them all by cutting in. “I suggest that we leave this place as soon as possible. The security of your homes is the best place to get acquainted with your new abilities.”

Of course. Adrien and Marinette (and their new kwamis) nodded soberly. Marinette opened her purse and wordlessly, Nooroo darted in.

They left the alleyway, Marinette still uneasy. Her eyes darted this way and that, catching on every shadow, every echo. It made her jumpy, knowing that someone with bad intentions could appear from behind any corner to take away her most valuable possessions.

M. Ramier followed them out silently. Marinette glanced to the guardian, and her mouth opened before she could stop it, her anxiety beginning to overwhelm her, needing to find a way to overcome these fears. “M. Ramier… you seem to have a dual identity. Is that… is that so you can deflect suspicion?”

M. Ramier’s smile was thin. “Of course. Who would suspect the biggest idiot in Paris?”

Adrien’s eyebrows rose. “So you don’t actually love pigeons?”

That got a real chuckle out of the guardian. “Of course I do! It makes the charade worthwhile for me. Pigeons are no one’s favorite bird, and that endears them to me. Their commonness makes them overlooked. But I find that sometimes, the most spectacular secrets are hidden in what seems harmless or common, hmm?” He gave them a knowing look, and Marinette smiled to herself. No doubt he related to the birds.

“Fu and Mme. Lenoir also do a good job seeming like an ordinary teacher and a clueless old lady. It’s part of our job as guardians…” M. Ramier was continuing, mostly to Adrien. 

Marinette was still thinking about the pigeons. Something he had said was tugging at a memory, something he had said reminded her of…

“The contest!” she gasped. That was it! The unique bird! The bird overlooked by all others, one that stood out, the one no one would ever think to make a hat of! That was it! A pigeon bowler hat! 

The other two were regarding her strangely, but Marinette didn’t have a moment to lose. The contest submission deadline was Friday. That gave her four days to finish designing and creating the perfect hat, amidst all her other responsibilities.

“I’ve gotta run — sorry gentlemen! It was nice to see you again, M. Ramier,” Marinette called, beginning to run off. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, Adrien!”

And with that, she left them in the dust, to simply look at the other in wonder.

Back in her room, Marinette sat down at her desk and pulled out her sketchbooks, her pencil flying over the thick paper, trying desperately to capture what M. Ramier had said about his love for pigeons and turn it into a bowler hat.

Alya was in the kitchen making dinner and chatting with the other girls, so Marinette had the room to herself. She was sure Alya would give her space if she asked for it. Alya knew how Marinette could get when she was creating.

Plagg and Nooroo watched Marinette work with fascinated eyes. Marinette chuckled awkwardly to herself. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten a real chance to get acquainted, Nooroo,” she apologized while furiously erasing on her sketch.

“That’s alright, Marinette. I can see that you’re quite the go-getter.”

Marinette pulled on her pigtails, taking out the ribbons and putting her hair into a messy updo so that her bangs would be out of her eyes. “Hmm. I think some would say workaholic, but thanks,” she joked, although a part of her wondered how much she was really joking. With a shake of her head, she pushed that away. Now was not the time to go down that road.

For the rest of the night, Marinette worked tirelessly on her pigeon hat, and as she did, Nooroo and Plagg entertained her with their games and conversation. Plagg gave Nooroo the same room tour he had given Pollen, warning Nooroo of Marinette’s roommates who were very much in the dark, and showing him the small kwami bed Marinette had made for Pollen.

“Sorry it’s all bee-themed,” Marinette apologized as the kwamis were discussing the beds. “I didn’t really think about the fact that I’d have to give a miracle stone back to get a new one.” She sighed as she aligned pieces of fabric together and rummaged for her needle and thread.

“Are you kidding?” Nooroo gushed. “I’ve never had a wielder make a bed for me before! This is a dream!”

Marinette relaxed a little at hearing that. Her heart swelled with pride thinking that, as much of an amateur as she was, she wasn’t doing too badly at caring for magical interdimensional beings. 

That thought made her think of something else. She put her needle down and turned towards the bed. The kwamis were hidden underneath, but she still wanted to address Nooroo as she asked. “What kinds of foods do you like to eat, Nooroo? I need to make sure to put them in my purse next to Plagg’s Cheese-Itz.”

The lavender-colored kwami floated from beneath the bed to land on Marinette’s knee. “Oh! Anything fruity, really! Maybe a banana… or a strawberry!” Nooroo swooned as he thought about it, clutching his small paws to his small tummy.

Marinette giggled. “I think I might still have some banana chips… but maybe we should run to the store. I’m pretty sure the Cheese-Itz are getting low due to this little glutton,” she teased, scratching a finger behind Plagg’s ear as he landed on the desk next to her sketch.

Plagg had the nerve to pretend to be scandalized. “Me? A glutton? I’m insulted!”

But all three of them laughed after a moment. Marinette felt at peace. As hard as today was, at least she had another new friend to care for. And, perhaps more importantly, the means to become stronger should anything happen. Although she hadn’t known Mme. Bustier, Marinette promised herself that she would never let what happened to that guardian happen to herself.

Close to midnight, a knock on the door sent the kwamis scurrying into hiding. Alya smiled and sighed as she saw the wreckage decorating Marinette’s side of the room. Crumpled sketches, fabric scraps, bits of construction paper, and sewing supplies were scattered about, as if the result of some kind of war between themselves and Marinette, and it wasn’t immediately obvious who had won.

“I’ll clean up right now!” Marinette exclaimed, jumping out of her chair and attempting to put her space into some kind of order.

“You don’t have to,” Alya grinned, “but I’d rather not mess up your Feng shui. And I’d also like to avoid spearing my feet on any needles this time.” She raised her eyebrows in mock seriousness, and Marinette laughed. The last time she had gone into a crafting frenzy like this, Alya came out of it with as many needle pricks as Marinette herself.

Alya passed over to her own side of the room and regarded Marinette’s concept art and somewhat-built hat. “What are you up to this time?”

Marinette casted about for a box in which to dump the scraps for the meantime. “Um,” she answered, reaching under her bed, careful not to linger in case Alya decided to look underneath her bed with her. “It’s for the Parisian Design House’s fashion contest. Bird themed bowler hats.”

Alya scratched her head. “I thought you had decided not to do that one?”

“Oh, well, I guess you could say inspiration struck me today!” she smiled, shoving everything on the floor into a small plastic container.

Alya raised an eyebrow, which Marinette had been afraid of. Elaboration time.

“You know that weird gentleman who loves pigeons? He’s sometimes in parks feeding them and calling them with the bird call on his neck.”

Alya shook her head. “M. Ramier? The biggest loony in town?”

Marinette smiled to herself, pleased for M. Ramier that his reputation was exactly what he wanted it to be. “Yep! His love for pigeons inspired me as the perfect bird for the hat contest!”

Alya laughed as she grabbed her pajamas and headed to the bathroom to change. “That’s amazing! So you just ran home immediately to start working on it?”

“Of course! The deadline is this week! This hat is going to be finished in record time! And,” Marinette leaned in conspiratorially, growing excited about the prospect, “with a little luck, it might even win the contest!”

Tuesday began much like Monday had. When they were in the front row of Chinese Mythology, Adrien asked, “So what was that last night?”

Marinette tugged on her ear nervously, explaining about the hat contest and her previous lack of inspiration. “But M. Ramier’s love for pigeons was exactly what I needed to realize that they are exceptional in their own ways!”

Adrien sighed. “As long as you don’t put any feathers on it, I’ll agree.”

Marinette was about to assure him that she wasn’t planning on it, as the plumage was made out of iridescent wired ribbon, when she stopped herself. A real feather, pointing up from one side, would give the hat a more elegant touch! 

Her excitement at this new idea had her jumping up and down in her seat. She grabbed Adrien’s face and kissed him briefly in her joy. “Thank you! What a brilliant idea!”

Adrien chuckled good-naturedly, flushed from the surprise kiss. “Okay, well, as long as you don’t make me wear it, then I’ll agree.”

But Marinette just touched Adrien’s hand gently. “Don’t worry. Just because I’m a fashion designer doesn’t mean I’ll use you as my flesh-and-blood mannequin.” 

The relief in Adrien’s eyes was slight, but Marinette’s heart was pained to think that this was something that he had been concerned about. 

She squeezed his hand in comfort. “I know you’re not a model anymore, Adrien. You don’t have to worry. I’ll never make you do anything that you don’t want to do, ever.” Marinette smiled at him, hoping that would alleviate his apprehension.

Adrien’s eyebrows creased and he took her by surprise by letting go of her hand and pulling her into a hug. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice thick in her ear.

Marinette wrapped her arms around him and melted into his embrace. “I love you, too,” she said, and although they had exchanged these words as Kitty Noire and Coccinello, somehow, saying them as Marinette and Adrien made it feel as if they were saying them to each other for the first time.

If it were possible, Marinette and Adrien were even closer now than they had been. They left Chinese Mythology with their arms around each other, their shoulders brushing as they walked, enjoying the silence between each other, the need for words seemingly evaporated. What was there to say? They knew one another more deeply than anyone ever knew anyone else. They had seen one another at their best, at their worst, their most afraid, or most desperate selves. It had taken a few days for Marinette to really synthesize that Adrien was Coccinello, but now it was written on her heart as one of the only truths she could believe in completely.

“Well, would you look at that?”

Marinette looked up, suddenly tense, frustrated to be ripped out of her delightful reflections by this particular voice.

“Hey, Chlo,” Adrien smiled at the fashionable blonde.

Marinette just smiled stiffly. Yes, Chloé was one of Adrien’s closest friends, but that didn’t mean that Marinette had changed her mind about the girl who had made her life last year so torturous.

“So, you finally have a girlfriend, Adrien? It’s about time! How you weren’t already snatched up by now is mind-boggling! It’s your third year!” Chloé tossed her hair, not seeming to be aware of her rudeness. Marinette could feel her temper rising.

Adrien fidgeted with the strap on his messenger bag. “Well, I just never found anyone I liked, Chlo. That’s not a crime.”

Chloé suddenly looked away from her manicure, surprised by Adrien’s tone. “Oh! Of course not! That’s the reason I’m still single, after all.” She went back to her nail inspection after that, frowning. “But I’m happy you’ve found someone sweet like Marinette,” she looked back up, making eye contact with Marinette for the first time and smiling. “I really couldn’t have chosen better for you myself.”

Marinette ducked her head, reddening. Since when did Chloé have such a high opinion of her?

Adrien nodded. “Thanks. I think so, too.” He gave Marinette’s side a small squeeze as he said it, and she leaned into him despite her warring thoughts. Was Chloé being genuine right now? When they had lived together, all the signs pointed to Chloé hating her.

Chloé suddenly looked at her watch. “Well, there goes all my time. Gotta head off to class. Catch you two around later! Lunch, maybe?”

“Sure!” Adrien called as she walked off, returning her wave.

Marinette and Adrien continued on their way to the design building. During the entire trek, Marinette wondered whether or not she had imagined that whole interaction. But then again, if Chloé was one of Adrien’s friends, she had to have at least one redeeming quality, right?

Maybe Marinette had been wrong about Chloé. Maybe being roommates had been bad for them, had brought out Chloé’s worst sides. Maybe she was a nicer person to her friends.

In a strange way, Marinette found herself looking forward to that lunch.

Unfortunately, today’s lunch was something off the Sloppy Joe’s menu. Marinette wasn’t thrilled, but her shift had been freakishly hectic, and by the time her boss told her to go on break, she was starving.

“Hey Lila,” Marinette asked, as the girl was pulling some onion rings out of the deep fryer, “do you think you can make me a cheeseburger? I don’t want to wait in this horrible line.” Marinette craned her neck as she said it, glancing at Aurore, who was working the register and trying to hide a grimace.

“Sure thing!” Lila smiled as she always did. “By the way, the party is slotted for this Saturday. Does that work for you?”

Marinette nodded, suddenly perking up again despite her hunger. She had forgotten about the party in all of the recent developments. “Yeah! A party will be just what I need after this crazy week is over!” As she said it, she allowed herself to imagine herself there — dancing without a care, the hat finished and submitted, enjoying the music and the snacks…

Her fantasy deflated. She hadn’t spoken to Nino nor had she gotten the supplies for all the baked goods she promised to make! It really was time to go to the store!

“Awesome! I’ll give you my address later!” Lila jumped up and down excitedly, giggling. Marinette suddenly had Alya’s words in her head. She wouldn’t accuse Lila of being disingenuous… but her reactions were a little over the top…

Marinette shook her head, remembering why she had asked Lila to prepare her meal. “I’ve gotta use the restroom, but when I come back I’m going to take my break. Can you put my food to the side so I don’t accidentally take a customer’s?”

Lila batted a hand as if it was already done. “No problem! Enjoy your break!”

Marinette thanked her friend and headed to the locker rooms. She didn’t need to use the facilities but she did want to let her kwamis out. She lifted up her cap and they phased into the room with her.

“A party! That sounds like great fun!” Nooroo bubbled, flying in dreamy circles.

“It will be extra fun because it’s after all my deadlines,” Marinette sighed in relief, resting on the bench.

Plagg landed on her knee. “Are you going to sneak me your cheese again?”

Marinette’s shoulders fell. Her manager had recently prohibited eating in the locker rooms due to bug problems. “I’ll do my best to discreetly slip it into my purse, but no promises. There are a lot of people out there today,” Marinette frowned. How was she supposed to eat in the dining area anyway? They were so busy, there weren’t even enough tables for the customers.

Once Nooroo and Plagg had stretched their legs, they phased back under Marinette’s cap and she returned to the kitchen to grab her food. 

Once she got there, she was a little confused. She had gestured where she wanted Lila to leave her lunch, but nothing was there. Maybe she hadn’t finished it yet? Although that seemed unlikely. Lila was a fast worker and Marinette had given her ample time. 

She was about to approach her friend when she saw it — there! A red basket with a burger and onion rings, behind the cash register. Marinette thought that was a little odd, but she dismissed it. Perhaps Lila wanted to put it somewhere more secluded, so none of her other coworkers would accidentally think it was a mess-up and toss it.

She grabbed her food and scoured the floor for a place to sit. There was a tiny table by the wall with just one seat. Perfect! No one would pay her any attention there.

She made a beeline for the table and dug into her lunch, slipping Plagg the cheese as promised. Although Sloppy Joe’s was not quality dining, she was so hungry that it all tasted delicious. As always, though, her break was much too short. She sighed when it ended, throwing her trash away and speed-walking to the kitchen before her boss could scold her.  

“How was it? Am I the best chef ever?” Lila teased as Marinette resumed her place behind the stove.

“Duh,” Marinette countered. “There’s a reason I asked you to make it and not Michel,” she lowered her voice as she said his name, and both girls glanced at their coworker, who was organizing the orders frantically. Michel wasn’t terribly patient and tended to burn most things he cooked.

They giggled together and continued sending out sandwiches as they usually did, when Michel suddenly sprinted past them to get to the locker rooms.

Marinette stared after him for a moment, then looked to Aurore, who had been working nearest to him. “Is he okay?”

Aurore’s face was drawn. “I’m not sure. A few minutes ago he mentioned that he wasn’t feeling well.”

Marinette flipped the burgers methodically, wondering if Michel had caught the stomach flu. It was the season for illness.

Without him, the orders were beginning to back up. Marinette looked at the clock. “It’s been fifteen minutes. Should someone check on him?”

Lila’s hands flew to her mouth. “Has it been that long? Poor Michel! Let me get the boss!”

And without another word she fled from her post, and within moments was back, their manager in tow. Being a man, he was the only one who could see if Michel was alright.

Marinette tried not to worry about it, but she knew something was wrong. She had been working at Sloppy Joe’s for a year, and nothing like this had ever happened before. She moved to organize the orders in Michel’s stead. 

“I hope he’ll be okay,” Aurore mumbled, her eyebrows creased in worry. Marinette’s heart gave a squeeze as she remembered that Aurore and Michel were somewhat romantically involved, but she had never really gotten the details. 

She patted Aurore’s shoulder. “He should be fine. It’s probably the twenty-four-hour flu.”

But both of them turned at Lila’s gasp of surprise. Their boss was at the stove, covering for their missing pair of hands. “I called an ambulance for Michel. He looked just about green when I went in there.”

Aurore whimpered in horror, turning suddenly to take a new customer’s order, attempting to distract herself, no doubt.

Marinette just focused on her work, trying to block out the queasy feeling rising in her stomach.

As soon as Marinette was off the clock, she sprinted out of the doors and headed straight for the grocery store.

The ordinariness of the aisles and the familiarity of the locals eased some of her stress. She told herself again and again that she was freaking out over nothing. Sure, no one had ever been violently ill at her workplace before, but just because it happened didn’t mean anything more than what she had said to Aurore.

Marinette threw some more Cheese-Itz into her cart, along with about ten pounds of flour and five pounds of butter. She groaned a little looking at all of it. As soon as the hat was done, she was going to bake like a madwoman.

Of course, she couldn’t forget one of her main reasons for coming here. She lifted her purse up and allowed Nooroo to scan the aisle of dried fruit himself. “Just pick what looks good,” she told him.

Nooroo settled on a bag of raisins, and although Marinette gagged a little, she indulged him. Had she been a kwami, she knew her food of choice would have been something a little less shriveled. 

Once she finished lugging all of her groceries up the stairs, put them away, and was catching her breath against the counter, Alya emerged from their room looking quite lovely in a denim jacket and a red skater skirt. She noticed Marinette’s appraising eyes and did a small twirl.

“What do you think?”

“Looks great! Where are you going?”

Alya gave Marinette a strange look. “Out to Andre’s…? You know, on a double date…?”

The blood drained from Marinette’s face. “That’s tonight?”

Alya crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

Marinette slumped over onto the countertop. But her hat! She had had every intention of getting the base of the hat done tonight!

Alya put her hand on her friend’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll only be out for an hour, and — how about this?” she interrupted herself. “After we’re done getting ice cream, I’ll go back to Nino’s with Adrien and you can have the room to yourself all night, distraction free? I promise I’ll come home late to give you as much time as you need.”

Marinette weighed her options. She supposed losing an hour now would be harmless if she could get it back later. And a double date sounded amazing after her strange day…

“Okay, it’s a deal! Thank you for being the best best friend ever,” Marinette breathed as she squeezed Alya in a bear hug.

“It’s easy to do if it’s for you, Marinette,” she said as she returned the hug with equal force.

They knew they were getting close because they could hear him. Instead of ringing a bell on his cart, to signal that he was there, Andre would sing. A silly song about his ice cream being able to melt any Parisian’s heart. Marinette squeezed Adrien’s hand, her color rising. Their first date was here, and it felt sort of full-circle to be back again.

Of course, Nino and Alya needed to stay in the dark. So as they approached the cart, Marinette exclaimed, “Oh wow! Do you think the ice cream is really magic?”

Nino wiggled his eyebrows. “Only if you believe,” and he winked at them.

Adrien greeted Andre, playing it very cool. “It’s our first time here together. What flavors would you recommend?”

Andre clapped and grabbed his scoop. “Oh, I see! Yes, of course!” He went to work, placing three flavors in a cone and handing it to Marinette first, ever the gentleman. “For you, my dear, it has to be banana for his hair, peach for his lips, and mint for his eyes.”

Marinette took the ice cream, a strange feeling coming over her. Wasn’t this the same set of flavors she had been given as Kitty Noire…?

“And for you, my good lad, blackberry for her hair, passionfruit for her lips, and blueberry for her eyes.” Andre’s own eyes twinkled as he passed the cone to Adrien.

Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed, and Marinette could see him making the connections she was already stumbling on.

“It’s good to see you two again. I thought those flavors would work well tonight, since their magic did much for you last time.” Andre said it softly, quiet enough for Nino and Alya not to pick up on it.

“But —” Marinette began.

“I’m just happy you two found one another in the end,” he interrupted, his serene face brightened by his sincerity. He gave them a meaningful look and then focused his attention on their friends. “Ah! The beautiful Alya and her roguish Nino!”

Adrien and Marinette stepped out of the way, dazed. They stood there, staring at their ice cream, speechless, for many moments.

“Do you think Andre is truly magical, then?” she whispered.

“Must be. How else could he have seen through our secret identities? He knew who we were this whole time…” Adrien trailed off.

Marinette’s stomach churned. “Do you think anyone else knows? He could have told someone, or maybe there are others like him… What if our identities aren’t safe?” Her ice cream began to shake, and it took Marinette a moment to realize it was because of her hands that were around the cone.

But Adrien shook his head, putting one arm around her, making her eyes hop to his face. “I don’t think so. Andre is a force for good. Our secret is safe with him.”

Marinette nodded. After all, it had been some time. Had Andre been malicious, perhaps more incidents would have happened to them in their civilian lives. As it stood, the only time anyone tried to hurt them was when they were transformed.

So Marinette pulled the spoon out of the mint ice cream and took a bite. And she didn’t know if she was imagining things or not… but it seemed to taste even better than the first time.

Nino was more than pumped to DJ for Lila’s apartment-warming party, so that was that. All Marinette had on her plate for the week was finishing her hat, baking like her life depended on it, and the usual bouts of heroing and homework.

After the ice cream date, Alya kept true to her word and Marinette blazed through construction on her hat. By the time her roommate came back, Marinette’s hat was nearly done. All she needed to do was to affix the ribbon plumage and find an authentic pigeon feather to sew onto the side.

“Ta-da!” she cried, spinning the deep grey bowler hat on her finger, brandishing it proudly to a tired Alya (and to her well-hidden kwamis). 

Alya took the hat in her hands, marveling at the quality. “Wow,” she breathed. “It’s gorgeous! It looks professionally made, like you went to a hat store and bought their finest bowler,” she smiled, handing it back.

Marinette blushed, as every artist does when their work is admired. “I just hope the PDH voting committee agrees with you.”

Because she was so busy with the hat, Marinette didn’t have a chance to get the reading done for History of Modern Fashion, and was cursing herself as she sat in lecture, scrambling to keep up with taking notes on a subject she didn’t have a clue about. She couldn’t finish that darn thing fast enough.

Immediately after class, Marinette sped to Sloppy Joe’s. Usually she had a moment between class and work, but her shift was moved to start half an hour earlier today. “Probably because of Michel,” Marinette explained to Plagg and Nooroo. “He’s still ill, most likely.” She frowned as she thought about that. What had happened to him?

Fortunately for her, Marinette’s answer was there, in the girl’s locker room. Aurore sighing and looking pensive, a worry line creasing her otherwise perfect brow.

Marinette opened her locker, pulling out her hat and putting away her bookbag. She hesitated a moment before cautiously asking, “Aurore? Is everything alright?”

Her coworker sighed again and turned to Marinette, hand on her locker door. “Yeah, it’s just all so much to wrap my head around.”

That answer puzzled Marinette. “What do you mean?”

Aurore fidgeted. “Apparently, um… Michel was poisoned.”

“What?” Marinette asked, but it was breathless with shock. Poison? In his food? Her mind reeled.

“Yeah. I just. I feel so guilty. I made his food and… he could have been killed!” Aurore’s arms moved to wrap about herself, and her eyes began to glass over with tears she fought against.

Marinette’s limbs were stiff as she tried to process everything Aurore was telling her. Somehow she managed to find her voice. “What… What did you prepare him?” she croaked out.

Aurore moved her hands to her polo shirt’s hem and began playing with it. “It was just a cheeseburger with a side of onion rings, nothing crazy, a totally benign order that customers get all the time, and somehow the one time I make it for him, he gets sent to the hospital!” She threw her arms up in the air in frustration. Then she realized her implication. “Not that I would rather send a customer to the hospital! Dear God, no, that would probably get the restaurant shut down, and I —”

Aurore was rambling in her panic but Marinette’s thoughts had never been more clear. She just hoped she was wrong.

“Where did you put Michel’s food, after you made it?” Marinette knew what Aurore’s answer would be but asked anyway, still holding onto the last string of hope. The last piece of denial.

“Behind the cash register. I thought it would be easier for him to find it there, but maybe I should have put it somewhere more hidden. Maybe a customer tampered with it while I wasn’t looking? But why would they —” 

“It wasn’t you. It was Lila.” It came out robotically, without emotion. Marinette felt sick to her stomach and dead inside all at once.

Aurore stopped in her tracks. Her tone changed from frustration to confusion. “How do you know?”

Marinette explained what had happened. “I ended up being the one to eat the sandwich you prepared, which means that Michel ate the one Lila prepared. The one intended for me.”

Both girls just stood in the room, completely unmoving in the stunned silence. Marinette couldn’t understand anything. But she knew that Alya had been right, and she had been an idiot for not trusting her friend’s intuitions. Lila was bad news, the worst. Not just a fake, but a fake with harmful intentions. Lila had tried to poison Marinette. Perhaps to take her out of the picture permanently.

Finally Aurore spoke, asking the only thing neither of them knew the answer to. “But why?”

Chapter Text

Lila wasn’t at work, and so the question just repeated itself over and over again in Marinette’s mind. As she flipped burgers, threw fries into baskets, and called out order numbers, it played in there on a loop. Why? Why would Lila do something like that?

Part of her wanted to deny it all. An innocent mistake. An undercooked burger. But Lila was an excellent cook, and there was no doubt that whatever she had done to that sandwich was not accidental. It made Marinette queasy to think that it was supposed to be her, being rushed to the hospital, instead of Michel.

But why? For what reason?

The answer sat there, waiting for Marinette to be ready to face it. And halfway through her shift, as she made change for a tall businessman who was snapping at her to hurry up, she let herself think of it.

Lila knew about the miracle stones. She suspected Marinette of having one. Why else would she go through her jewelry at home? And before that, break into her locker, and even before that, to remark on her ring when they were walking home from the bar that night, so many nights ago? 

Was Lila one of those people M. Ramier warned them about? It was so hard for Marinette to believe, to reconcile her idea of the types of thugs who cornered people in alleys, the types of people who would steal a miracle stone, with her idea of Lila — a fashionable but lonely young woman, who wasn’t much bigger than Marinette herself.

But it had to be. There was no other explanation. Who else carried poison on themselves?

Marinette forced herself to stop ruminating. She would be on her guard from now on, especially at the party.

Although the hat was due on Friday, Marinette had her internship tomorrow, and was planning on getting it turned in then so she wouldn’t have to make an extra trip. Besides, she didn’t want to seem like a slacker.

Before jetting to her apartment to spend the rest of the day finishing it, Marinette took a detour to the park to find the perfect pigeon feather. When she arrived, she was surprised to find M. Ramier there as well, sitting on a bench, with a whole crowd of pigeons gathered about, pecking at the ground where he tossed them birdseed. Marinette smiled, considered approaching him, but then thought better of it. It would be safest to act as though they weren’t acquainted.

It didn’t take long to find a feather large enough for the hat, and Marinette returned home to wash and dry it before setting it with the rest of her materials. Alya was studying at her own desk, and so Marinette discreetly left her purse by her bedside so that her kwamis could fly under the bed unnoticed.

Then she got to work, fashioning the iridescent ribbon (which shone purple, green, and gold) into ovular shapes to mimic feathers, and sewing them onto the exterior of the bowler. It was painstaking work, to ensure every ribbon feather was the same size, spaced the same distance apart, across the hat’s whole surface. When it was finally finished, Marinette took a break for homework, and then dinner, and once she had spent sufficient time away from the hat, she could appraise it objectively.

She chose a thick off-white ribbon to tie where the rim of the bowler met the base, tying it in a neat bow. She realized, with a smile, that the reason she felt the hat needed a touch of elegance was because M. Ramier always wore a suit.

Finally, she trimmed the pigeon feather and tucked it between the ribbon and the hat’s base. 

“Finished!” she cried, placing it on her head and doing a twirl for Alya, who gave her an approving nod and a small applause. Marinette chuckled and curtseyed.

“I really think you’ve got a great chance to win, Marinette. I’ve never seen that hat’s equal.”

Marinette just blushed, but said nothing. She certainly hoped so but she didn’t want to jinx it.

That night, Alya was updating her blog website and Marinette was laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, so relieved to be finished with her hat. Now that one stress was over, another began churning in her stomach. It had been a few days since the last sentimonster, which wasn’t the norm but certainly wasn’t a cause for alarm. Still, Marinette felt jittery. She hadn’t yet gotten the chance to use Nooroo’s powers, and didn’t want to be too inexperienced the next time she was on the battlefield.

So she shot off a text to Adrien. “Wanna hang out? Have a scrimmage?”

A moment later, his response came in. “Like, in a fox-and-butterfly way?”

Marinette just sent back a winking emote.

“See you at the courtyard in 10!” Adrien texted back.

Marinette popped off the bed and grabbed her purse, turning to Alya as she reached the door. “Gonna hang with Adrien for a bit,” she told her roommate.

Alya raised her eyebrows, her expression heavy with implication. “Have fun,” she teased.

Marinette smiled, going along with it. “Oh, we will.”

As she left the apartment, she laughed to herself. Finally, the perfect cover story.

Kitty Noire arrived at the courtyard near their apartment buildings, and was shocked that the man meeting her looked nothing like she had been expecting.

Kitty was intending to travel together to a private location, and then fuse there, but Coccinello had already got a jump on it. Because here he was, no longer his regular spotted self, but a new hero clad in orange, long fox ears pointing up out of his head, just as her own cat ears did.

His shoulder pads and chest plate were gone, leaving him looking leaner, looking more like Adrien and less like Coccinello. His arms and legs were black with orange spots, his core white like a fox’s chest, black dots trailing down his shoulders and back. His classic yo-yo was still there in place around his waist, but his new weapon attached to his back just as his turtle shield had done.

When he saw her gawking, he pulled out the weapon — a flute! — and played a few notes, which made the end of the instrument glow, forming an orange orb. He threw his arm out and the orb flew off, landing right beside Kitty Noire.

She covered her eyes as the magic came toward her, but after a moment of silence, she peeked down at her feet. A tiny ladybug was crawling across the pavement toward her boot.

Kitty Noire laughed. “All that for just a little bug?” She bent down to pick up the critter, and it vanished as her finger made contact.

“It’s only an illusion, Kitty.”

For a moment she had forgotten what his power was. “Very realistic, I must say,” she countered, getting back up.

But his expression was clouded, his ears not quite as perked. “It’s the biggest thing I can create,” he sighed.

Kitty Noire stifled a giggle, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arm around her partner. “That’s why we’re doing this.”

So, at Kitty’s suggestion, the heroes bounded off to the Eiffel Tower, and once they were there, balancing on the steel beams, Kitty Noire unzipped one of her pockets, fishing out the purple ring hidden in its depths.

She looked up to see her partner ogling the jewel in anticipation. She chuckled when she caught him, and he reddened. “Sorry,” he coughed. “I just can’t wait till I get to see what you look like with that miracle stone. Butterfly and cat… beautiful and majestic, probably.”

Kitty Noire, too, colored at that. She certainly liked Coccinello’s new look. “What are you going by now, anyway?” she asked, trying not to think too hard about how much more he looked like Adrien like this, trying not to think too hard about what Alya thought they were up to right now, trying not to think too hard about whether or not she wished Alya was right.

“Oh!” His hand flew to his chin, fidgeting there as he thought of a new superhero name.

Meanwhile, Kitty Noire’s eyes raked over the changes this miracle stone had given him. The fox ears were tipped with red, the hands of his suit were black, a few orange spots adorning the backs of his palms. His domino mask was black, just like hers, with a few orange spots and red accents. His hair was as long as it always was, but the bangs were gone this time. Something about the way he pulled off this costume was mesmerizing; Kitty couldn’t quite put her finger on why. But she was distracted from those thoughts with the relief that his eyes were still the same blue they always were when he was transformed, and the familiarity made her smile.

“I dunno, it’s kind of dumb. But all I can come up with is Fennello.”

Kitty Noire shook her head adamantly. “It’s awesome, what are you talking about? Better than Coccinard or Renardello or one of the other awful ideas I had,” she teased.

That made Fennello laugh. “Okay, those are truly awful. Fennello it is.”

Kitty Noire smiled, but after a beat, both of their gazes fell to the ring that she had still not put on. It was getting harder to ignore its pull, so she didn’t.

With a flash of light, Nooroo reappeared, twirling in circles around Kitty Noire’s head. “Woohoo! Fusion time!”

She giggled, putting out her hand for him to go into. He landed there obediently, looking up at her with excitement and admiration. “One thing first. Remind me how to use your power, please.”

Nooroo perked up even more, if that was possible. “Of course! Your weapon, the cane, has the ability to summon you an enchanted butterfly, which you can activate by saying, ‘darkwings, rise.’ If that butterfly lands on an object someone is holding, you gain the ability to recruit that person to be your hero, an ally in battle. You can give them any power of your choosing.”

“Any power?” Kitty boggled, breathless. That seemed dangerous.

Nooroo wiggled his head, as if to say, not exactly. “Within reason, of course. The higher your skill level, the more complicated the ability you can grant to your hero.”

“I see,” Kitty answered. This miracle stone’s contingency was the skill of the wielder, much as the bee stone’s had been; much as the peacock’s must be, she theorized.

“Was that all you wanted to know?” Nooroo inquired.

Kitty Noire could only nod, the words, “transform me” coming out of her mouth almost without her realizing it.

Power pulsed through her body as Nooroo disappeared into the ancient jewel. This power was similar to the way it had felt to become Buzzy Noire, but not exactly the same. It was hard to describe, but if she had to put words to it, Kitty would have said it was more electric, more energizing.

“Whoa,” Fennello breathed once the transformation was finished. His eyes were blown wide in… wonder?

Kitty — or whoever she was now — had to look down at herself to see what was so different, and she gasped before she could finish taking it in.

So much purple. Her legs and arms were lavender, the seams still electric green as always. She now had a small, flowy skirt, in classic violet, starting at her waist and ruching down to her knees. Her torso was still black, although her collar was lavender, so light it was almost white. She couldn’t resist doing a twirl, trying to see her back, and she couldn’t contain a second gasp as the light purple of her collar continued down her back and sprouted out in a pair of iridescent butterfly wings. 

Her midnight hair now flowed free about her face, shorter than it had been as Kitty Noire, but still a bit longer than her true length. 

Fennello closed the distance between them, threading her loose strands in his fingers. She looked up into his eyes, and the awe there took her breath away. 

Her color rose at his proximity, and Fennello couldn’t help but kiss her. Kitty Noire was more than happy to melt into his embrace, but after a short moment he let her go, his eyes shining.

“I’m sorry, I know we’re supposed to be sparring. But you look so beautiful, so elegant, so powerful, I couldn’t help myself. It’s as though the butterfly miracle stone was made for you, Marinette.”

Emotion overwhelmed her, and she had to look away from the intense expression in his eyes. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tried to calm her racing heart, but it was hard to recover from such a compliment. It filled her with hope, hearing him say those words. It made her feel as though the safety in the strength that she so desperately wished to possess, to protect them both, was closer to her reach than she had dared dream. Even more overwhelming was the fact that he looked equally right in his fox miracle stone. Mme. Lenoir’s words about fate intruded on her thoughts once more and she found she was beginning to believe in them.

“You shouldn’t say my civilian name when we’re transformed,” she said, instead of everything she was really feeling, in an effort to deflect. As always, however, Fennello saw right through her.

He offered her a reassuring grin, his hand squeezing her shoulder gently. “Of course. My deepest apologies. But I don’t have another name I can use, o lovely butterfly,” he sang, all teasing.

That made her laugh, which was exactly what he had intended it to do. Now it was her turn to run through name ideas in her head. “Maybe… Papillonne Noire?”

Fennello nodded. “A perfect fit.”

The heroes tried out their new powers on the other for close to two hours. Fennello was finally able to create moderately-sized illusions, and Papillonne Noire learned more about her mysterious abilities.

Her cane was tucked in her belt, right next to her trusty baton. A small dome sat on the top, and if she touched it while saying the summoning words, a deep purple butterfly manifested itself inside of it. With a bit of pressure from her thumb, the dome opened on its hinge, and the butterfly flew free, landing on the nearest person, who in this case, was Fennello.

The butterfly merged with Fennello’s flute, and suddenly a mental pathway opened up between herself and her partner. She could read impressions of his thoughts, could gauge his abilities as a fighter. Right now, he seemed a bit ill at ease, she guessed from the strange experience. Could he read impressions of her thoughts, too?

Choosing a power to bestow on him was much easier than she feared it would be; it was almost instinctual. By getting an internal reading on his abilities, her mind could immediately see that the power of intense speed would be a good fit. That way he could create illusions to leave in his stead, and their enemy would never notice that he had left at all.

As soon as she had decided, it was done, and the mental connection was broken. Fennello’s eyes shot open and he stared at her, a small smile growing on his lips. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” she asked, still reeling from the sudden disconnect. 

“I just ran a whole lap around you!” he cried in excitement.

Marinette had been right to trust her gut. 

That afternoon, she finally submitted her hat to the PDH. It was in a special white hatbox, completely blank and security sealed, so that no one could see the piece or know who had created it until judgement time. The submission area was near Hera’s office, and her eyes were wide with delight as she took in Marinette rushing about.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought you were going to enter!”

Marinette shrugged, not wanting to go into it. “I spent a lot of time going back and forth on the design.”

Hera smiled. “I’m rooting for you!”

Marinette thanked her and began heading upstairs to check on Ronaldo when her phone alerted her, with the beep that could wake her from her deepest sleep, that there was a sentimonster.

Adrenaline pumping, Marinette discreetly turned around and began walking in the opposite direction, casting about for somewhere to transform. Her coworkers were already heading down to the basement, and Marinette knew they would be asking her to join them any second now.

Before she could think about it, Marinette dived into the nearest hiding place — a janitorial closet — as she saw Mireille beginning to turn in her direction.

“Marinette! What are you doing?” Plagg hissed.

“I know!” she sighed. “But there’s no way I could escape if I went to the basement. Here I can wait for everyone else to hide and then I can slip out.”

In the pitch blackness, Marinette pulled out her phone to watch the livestream on the Kittynello Blog. The sentimonster appeared to be some kind of amphibious creature.

Marinette cursed as Fennello arrived on the scene. Alya was too distracted by his new miracle stone to wonder after his partner, but the look on Fennello’s face was enough to cue Marinette in. She needed to join him, and soon.

She put her phone away and gently eased open the closet door, praying that everyone was under cover already. Not seeing anything, she opened it a little wider, making a run for the exit before truly ascertaining if the coast was clear.

“Marinette! Where—” Mireille faltered as Marinette didn’t stop.

“Sorry, I forgot something important! I’ll be okay!” Marinette tried to smile, hoping to be convincing enough. Hopefully Mireille didn’t think she was crazy for running into the danger. Hopefully Mireille didn’t have any suspicions, either, but Marinette didn’t linger on that. She slipped into an alley, opening her purse in the darkness. “Nooroo, Plagg, transform me!”

In a flash, she was Papillonne Noire, elongating her baton to throw herself into the air, allowing the wind to catch on her butterfly wings, gliding her toward the Pont des Artes.

She touched down onto a nearby roof, scoping the scene. Fennello was trying to trip up the frog-like beast with his yo-yo, presumably to get a reading on the sentimonster’s abilities. Papillonne watched, also searching for a weak point, a clue as to where the trapped victim could be located.

For the first time in her life, Marinette wasn’t afraid. She searched her insides, trying to drudge up her fear and anxieties, wondering where she had hidden them. But she dug and dug and revealed nothing. And as she watched Fennello expertly dodge a swipe of the sentimonster’s hand, a warmth grew in her chest. They could do this. They were finally at a point where they could fight any sentimonster, with any miracle stone, and win.

Her veins electric with confidence, Papillonne Noire jumped up from her point on the roof, unsheathing her baton, aiming for the sentimonster’s eye, using that force to send her flying over its body in a wide arc.

“Ack!” The beast’s hands immediately went to cradle its eye, and Papillonne touched down next to her partner at the same moment. Fennello had to blink in surprise, but his lips split into a dazzling smile at seeing her.

“When did you get here?”

She put her hand on his arm and returned his grin. “Not long ago. I think the victim is in the body this time. The way this thing carries itself, it seems really bottom-heavy.”

Fennello nodded in accordance, just as the monster turned back toward them, one eye closed tightly, swelling from the impact.

“You’ll pay for that, Kitty Noire!”

Papillonne jumped away as the monster swiped in her direction, but it wasn’t as precise as before. Its vision was certainly impaired, which meant it would probably be deceived by even a simple illusion.

In the middle of her jump, her wings caught on the wind once more, and she rode the push to alight on an adjacent roof. “I’d like to see you make me,” she taunted. “Besides, I’m Papillonne Noire now!”

Afraid to communicate her plans to her partner, at the risk of the sentimonster hearing, Papillonne did the next closest thing.

Pressing her palm to the dome at the top of her walking stick, she called out, “darkwings rise!” The power pulsed in her ring, pushing down into the dome, manifesting in the deep purple butterfly she was beginning to grow fond of. She popped the dome open with her thumb, mentally commanding the transmitter to land on Fennello.

His hand was on his flute when the butterfly made contact. To her pleasure, Papillonne could see that Fennello had intended to use his power, that he had come to the same conclusion she had. The logical option was the easiest. She boosted his skill at making illusions, and as soon as that decision was made, the mental connection between them ended.

Fennello’s flute came to his lips, the haunting tune summoning a ball of power at the other end. When he was satisfied with the size, he pulled it away, throwing the ball across the bridge. “Mirage!”

In a flash of light, Fennello was on the other side of the monster. He waved, taunting.

“Grrr!” The monster looked to where Fennello had stood, and back to where he now hopped between his feet, clearly confused. Papillonne herself shared its confusion. She hadn’t given Fennello speed. How had he moved so fast?

The monster charged Fennello, but he cartwheeled expertly out of the way, the monster missing him by inches each time.

Papillonne Noire’s dread was beginning to grow. What was he doing? Trying to rile it? She was about to head down to help him when a hand on her shoulder made her jump.

Her hand flew to her weapon, but she relaxed. It was just her partner. She looked back down at the fight and it immediately clicked. The Fennello fighting the sentimonster was just an illusion. She continued to watch them go at it, her wonder growing. “That’s an amazing illusion. How did you get it so accurate?”

Fennello gave her a meaningful look. “Your butterfly amped up my power by a lot. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m skilled enough to make this last much longer than a minute, so we’ll have to be quick.”

Papillonne nodded, and they both said their summoning words at the same time. Fennello’s charm was a spear, and Papillonne Noire grabbed it, turning it unlucky as she launched herself from the roof, the wind gliding her right toward the beast. The spear’s tip made contact with the monster’s slick skin, its magic beginning to discharge. With a little more force, Papillonne pushed the spear into the monster, pulling her wings in and allowing gravity to do the rest of the work. 

When her feet hit the ground, there was an incision running down the creature’s back, and it bellowed before falling, already beginning to dissolve.

When the smoke cleared, there was only one Fennello — beside her — and an older woman sprawled onto her back on the bridge.

Fennello removed the feather and looked to his partner happily. “We crushed it, Papillonne. I really believe we’ve found the miracle stones for us.”

She squeezed his hand. With that gesture she didn’t have to say that she thought so, too.

In the next few days before Lila’s party, Papillonne Noire and Fennello defeated two more sentimonsters, in record time. After the second, they even lingered to give Nadja and Clara an interview.

“Your new powers are breathtaking! Is that what’s to thank for your improved fighting ability?” Clara urged, pushing the microphone into Papillonne’s face.

“I don’t think so. What’s to thank is our skills and diligence on the battlefield.”

Dissatisfied with that answer, Nadja tried to turn the question to Fennello. “Do you have anything to add to that?”

“Nope.”

They laughed about it later. As if they would give up the secrets of their power! Papillonne shook her head, wiping away a stray tear.

“We didn’t lie, though.” Fennello told her, and she had to admit that he was right. There was no way they could have wielded these stones without learning the others.

On Saturday morning, Marinette rose early, as she hadn’t done since leaving home. She got out the ingredients and mixed and beat in the dark, the kitchen illuminated only by artificial light. She gave her kwamis a lick of the dough before forming the first batch of croissants.

By the time all of the croissants were done, it was time to start on the macarons. By then, her roommates were beginning to wake, stirred from their rooms by the smell of baked goods.

“Marinette! Are you starting your own bakery?” Mylène asked, her eyes swimming with hearts as she took in the trays of fresh croissants. 

She sighed as she separated the yolk from the egg whites. “Nope. Just the catering service for a friend’s party.”

Mylène tried to hide her disappointment, and Marinette shrugged her apology. “I’ll make some goodies just for us another time.”

That cheered her up, and she moved to the dining table to finish assembling her breakfast.

It was nearly the afternoon by the time everything was finished, and Marinette wrapped and covered all the goodies, cleaned all her dishes, and flopped back onto her bed, as beaten as an egg.

Alya took off her headphones and looked at her friend with concern. She sighed. “I know it’s a little late to talk you out of it, since you finished all those pastries and everything… but, are you sure you want to go to that girl’s party? She’s such a creep.”

Marinette didn’t open her eyes to answer. Alya didn’t even know the half of it. “Yeah, I don’t want to flake. I’ll just pay my dues and cut ties after.”

Alya hesitated, squirming. “I guess, what I’m meaning to say is, what if she tries something at the party? Like, are you going to be safe?”

Marinette chuckled into her pillow. Very sweet of Alya to be concerned, but Marinette was sure she could hold her own in a fight. Instead she said, “I’ll be okay. Adrien is coming as my plus-one.”

“Oh, okay.” Alya’s tone shifted to surprise.

“What?” Marinette asked with a smile. Was she going to tease her about being one of those girls who brings her boyfriend everywhere?

“Well, Nino asked if I wanted to do the same and I said no, but if you’re bringing Adrien, maybe I should come as well.” She glanced back at her desk, as though unsure.

“You should! It would be nice to support Nino by being there.”

Alya still wasn’t sold on it. “I don’t want to get behind on studying.”

Marinette shrugged. “It’s up to you. I’m not sure how great the party will be, although I can vouch for the food.” 

That got a laugh out of her. “That I can believe. Okay, we’ll see. If I get all my work done I’ll show up.”

A party guest opened the door for them, and Marinette tried not to sigh in relief. They didn’t have to face Lila just yet.

“Oh, sweet! The caterers are here!” The guy opened the door wider, calling to some of his friends, and Marinette frowned.

“I think I resent that, but yeah, basically,” she rolled her eyes, heading in, Adrien and Alya in tow.

Nino was already DJing, and the bass shook the floors as they entered. The lights had been programmed to strobe through all the colors of the rainbow, and assorted streamers hung from the ceiling. Overall, it looked awesome, and Marinette tried not to let her guard down, no matter how harmless this party seemed.

To everyone’s disappointment, Lila caught sight of them and waved. “Marinette! You’re here!” She weaved through other friends to meet them, helping take one of the trays of macarons. Alya took that as her cue to talk to Nino, i.e. escape.

“Um, thanks,” Marinette had to let out. She couldn’t act differently, she couldn’t let Lila suspect that she’d been found out.

Lila led Marinette and Adrien to the food table and helped them set up all the treats, grabbing a coconut macaron and appraising the two of them, catching when Adrien’s hand would linger against Marinette’s.

“Oh, Marinette? Is this your boyfriend?” Lila raised her eyebrows, gushing like a good girl friend should.

But now that Marinette’s eyes had been opened, she knew nothing good was coming. “Uh, yeah. This is Adrien, Lila. Lila, Adrien.”

Adrien smiled and offered his hand to shake. “Thanks for letting me tag along. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Lila gasped, scandalized. “The Adrien? Oh my God, Marinette, why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes moved from Adrien’s to Marinette’s. “I’m so pleased you guys finally got together. Since Marinette was so heartbroken over you, it’s sweet.” She grinned, her tone dripping with sugar.

It was Marinette’s turn to gasp, reddening against her will. Sure, Adrien knew the truth, but that didn’t mean Lila had to go into the details of it! She’d prefer to keep her pride intact, thanks!

Marinette’s eyes shifted to Adrien’s face, trying to ascertain if he had caught that, but his expression remained unchanged. “Yeah, I’m really lucky to be with her.”

Lila’s smile fell just a degree. “Well. That’s so awesome for you two. I’ll let you enjoy the party together.” She excused herself to talk with some other guests.

“Ugh, she’s literally the worst!” Marinette hissed once she was out of earshot. “If you and I didn’t have a history that transcends pettiness, I’d be really humiliated right now.”

But Adrien wasn’t listening, instead staring intently at Lila’s receding figure. “Have you ever noticed her ring?”

Marinette balked. “What — what ring?”

He gestured with his chin, disguising the action with a reach toward the croissants.

Marinette’s gaze locked onto Lila’s hand. A beautiful blue sapphire set in a golden band. “I can’t say I ever have. She’s never worn it to work before.”

Adrien shrugged. “It might be nothing. But it also looks suspiciously miracle-stone-y.”

She gave him a look. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

Adrien nodded, and once Lila was distracted by something her friend was saying, he ducked around the corner and toward the bedroom. Marinette had no choice but to follow him.

He wiggled the door handle, and it opened with ease. Marinette’s stomach dropped, but it was just Lila’s bedroom. A bedroom like any other. “I don’t know, Adrien,” she mumbled, feeling suddenly ill at ease. “What evidence are we looking for, exactly? It’s not like she’s gonna have a kidnapped victim tied up in the closet during her party.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he trailed off, opening drawers. “A journal, perhaps?”

But Marinette’s stomach just kept sinking. She wanted to help Adrien — after all, they desperately needed to take back the peacock miracle stone, and if Lila had it, this wasn’t an opportunity they could afford to waste — but she couldn’t will her feet to move. This just felt wrong.

“What if she catches us nosing in her stuff?” she muttered as Adrien lifted up papers from the desk, scoured the bookshelves.

“She won’t. She’s busy being the hostess.”

Marinette finally allowed herself a step forward, reaching for the closet door handle. She probably wouldn’t find anything but clothes. Lila was much too shrewd to leave evidence of her crimes laying around during a party.

The door slid away, and Marinette had to stagger back, trying to find the words, but unable to manage more than a choked exhale.

Everything seemed to freeze. Adrien was at her side in a moment, but she still couldn’t speak. Her head felt light, her ears rung.

It was a shelf. Covered from top to bottom with jars and bottles of various toxic drugs.

“What the hell is this…?” Adrien breathed, his features twisting in disgust.

“Poison,” Marinette squeaked out, her thoughts reeling, going back to Michel and that day at Sloppy Joe’s.

Adrien’s response was cut off by the door opening.

With a smirk on her lips and a glint in her eyes, Lila stood facing them, blocking the only exit. “I had a feeling I’d find the two of you in here.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold. If there was any doubt in her mind of Lila’s guilt, it completely evaporated. That malicious smile was unlike any expression Marinette had ever seen on her once-friend.

“There’s really only one reason we’re all here right now, so let’s not beat around the bush, Marinette. Or should I say, Kitty Noire?”

Marinette swallowed hard, took an involuntary step back, but stumbled into Adrien’s bracing form.

“How nice of you to bring Coccinello along. Now I can finish you off at the same time.” 

Adrien stiffened. “Not sure what you’re getting at, Lila. Marinette and I were just lost on our way to the bathroom.”

Marinette closed her eyes. Like playing dumb was really going to help them now.

As she knew would happen, Lila threw her head back and cackled. “Oh, Adrien. Please. It’s not time for games. You both know who I am.” And with a toss of her hair, Lila brandished her ring. “That pathetic Mme. Bustier was no match for me, and she was a guardian. What makes you two think you can stand up to me? At the end of today, I’ll have five of the seven stones in my possession, thanks to you.” She winked.

Marinette’s previously cold blood began to boil. How dare she! “Don’t tell me you… killed her?” She could hardly say the words.

Lila’s smug nod was enough to send Marinette over the edge, angry tears pricking her eyes. Lila was a killer. And she would have no scruples killing them, too.

She had to be stopped.

“It was so easy. That looney teacher never expected her TA would have ulterior motives. But I guess she underestimated me. Everyone does.” Lila admired how her miracle stone reflected the light as she spoke, as though they weren’t discussing anything more remarkable than the weather. Then she heaved a contented sigh. “Especially you. This whole party was a trap. And you fell right into it.”

Marinette gasped in horror, her anger dying in her chest, to be replaced by the chill of fear. How could she have ever thought she could sneak up on Lila? The girl was a psychopath. She was always five steps ahead.

As Lila grinned again, Marinette’s heart sunk even further in despair. But Adrien’s hand squeezing hers gently but strongly reminded her that she wasn’t going to have to face Lila alone.

Marinette squeezed back. It was time for action. “Nooroo, Plagg, transform me!”

Lila’s face fell just a fraction at beholding the hero in her bedroom. “Duusu, transform me!”

In an instant, Papillonne Noire and Fennello finally laid eyes on their adversary. Ultramarine feathers decorated her deep blue dress. 

Lila plucked a feather from her weapon, the fan. Papillonne extended her baton, whacking Lila’s hand out of the way. There was no chance she’d be allowed to infect someone with those evil feathers here. Not on her watch.

Lila’s frown grew more pronounced. She narrowed her eyes at Papillonne, not expecting to be thwarted. Her eyes darted to the side and before either hero could blink, Lila had vanished out the open window.

Papillonne Noire and Fennello wasted no time in following her.

Chapter Text

Papillonne Noire’s feet steadied themselves on an adjacent rooftop, but she was too late. The feather between Lila’s fingers was already black with her dark power.

Fennello was spinning his yo-yo in front of them both like a shield, smirking. “Come on, Lila. Let’s not fight. Just hand over the stone and we can part ways, no mess required.”

Lila guffawed. “Give up already! Can’t you both see this is where you meet your ends?”

Papillonne narrowed her eyes. Why was Lila acting so cocky? Surely she knew she didn’t stand a chance? They had defeated every sentimonster she’d thrown their way.

“Oh. My. God! This is legendary!”

Papillonne’s heart stopped. She knew that voice. Her eyes darted down and landed on Alya, standing on the balcony of Lila’s apartment, her phone held high above her, her eyes swimming with stars as she was no doubt enthralled to find her heroes so unexpectedly close.

She wanted to shout to her friend, to entreat her to hide, because this was much too dangerous, but the words didn’t come out fast enough. Lila was faster.

In the blink of an eye, Lila blew the feather, like a kiss, in Alya’s direction. Alya didn’t stand a chance.

Papillonne Noire could only watch as Alya froze, the feather sticking into the back of her neck. Her phone clattered to the ground, and she was instantly cocooned in blackness.

Lila giggled. “Good luck saving your best friend, Marinette,” she emphasized, jumping backwards, vanishing among the rooftops.

But Papillonne couldn’t move, couldn’t give chase. All she could do was watch in horror, as the blackness around Alya’s form grew larger and larger, until she was lost in the shape of a giant… butterfly.

The sentimonster rose high into the sky, beating its giant wings at them, sending the heroes flying, until Fennello caught his yo-yo against a lamppost and held them still against the bracing wind.

Papillonne Noire’s mind was blank. How could she be expected to fight Alya? How could she rescue her closest friend?

Fennello looked at her and gasped. “Kitty, you’re crying.”

Her hands flew to her face, and the moisture there surprised even her.

Fennello pulled his yo-yo back, allowing them to be blown away until they fell onto a neighboring balcony, away from the malevolent wind. “It’s going to be okay. How many victims have we rescued to date?”

Papillonne knew he was right, that there was nothing to fear. But all she could focus on was that they had successfully rescued all but one of the people that had fallen prey to Lila’s feathers. Mme. Renault was still dead, and a sob escaped Papillonne’s throat as she imagined them failing again, here and now. Imagining cradling Alya’s limp head in her lap, desperately trying to scoop the blood back into her body, as though that would undo the cataclysm that would be all her own fault.

She might accidentally kill her friend.

“I — I can’t!” Papillonne cried, her voice thick with tears.

Fennello put his hands on both of her shoulders. “Listen to me. Look at me, and listen.” The expression on her partner’s face had never been so serious, his voice had never been so scoldingly desperate.

The tears stopped flowing in her surprise. She had never seen Adrien like this.

“You’re Papillonne Noire. You’re the strongest you’ve ever been. If there is anything I’m sure of, it’s that you can do this. This isn’t day one anymore, okay?”

Papillonne tried to nod, tried to pull some courage from his words. She needed to get Alya out of that thing, away from Lila’s evil influence. But when she looked above herself, and laid eyes on the giant butterfly, she froze.

How could she even try? How could she put Alya at risk like that?

She shook her head weakly. “I’m just so afraid,” it came out in a whisper.

Fennello sighed and sat beside her, running a hand comfortingly against her back. Papillonne leaned into him and tried to rein in her spiraling thoughts. It did no good to fixate on those images, of Alya’s body crumpled by cataclysm.

Fennello stared up at the sky, watching the sentimonster. “You know what? We don’t even need to fight Alya. What we need is to go after Lila directly. If we steal her stone, she won’t be able to control the sentimonster anymore. But if we stay here and try to rescue Alya, we’re giving Lila more time to create another sentimonster.”

“That’s a good point.” Papillonne gazed back up to the butterfly, which was gliding in curlicues, searching for where they’d disappeared to, relaxing significantly. She wouldn’t have to face her friend in battle. What a relief.

With that, the gears in her mind began turning rapidly, a new plan forming. “How about this? I’ll enhance your powers so that you can hold your own against the sentimonster, and I’ll look for Lila. When I’ve found her, she’ll think we’ve decided to divide and conquer. But then you ambush her.”

Fennello nodded. “I think that would be the only way to surprise her. I’ll tail you ever so slightly.”

Papillonne nodded as well, but more to herself than to him. If they wanted to one-up Lila, this was their only hope.

Papillonne thought Lila would be difficult to find. She scoured every rooftop, every alley, every crevice in which she could be hiding, trying to ignore the heartbeat pounding in her ears, finally able to breathe now that she was away from Alya, now that her friend was no longer in danger. Fennello would do her no harm; Papillonne had simply given him faster reflexes, so that he could more easily dodge the sentimonster’s sharp wings.

When Papillonne finally found her, Lila was standing on her apartment’s rooftop, just waiting for her adversary. “No Fennello?”

Papillonne shook her head. “We decided to divide and conquer.”

Lila looked smug. “Well, that makes my job easier.”

Papillonne let out an even breath, trying not to smile. Lila didn’t suspect them. Thank goodness.

There was a beat, as each woman simply looked the other down. But in the same instant, Papillonne elongated her baton, trying to trip Lila, as Lila fluttered her fan, blowing a gust into Papillonne’s face, making her squint.

Lila fluttered faster, the wind blew harder, and Papillonne remembered her wings. She caught them against the breeze, allowing it to lift her up, sending herself hurtling down toward Lila, her hand outstretched, reaching for the ring on Lila’s finger.

Lila ducked at the last moment, but not without scowling in surprise. Lila’s cockiness was really getting to Papillonne Noire, so she decided to taunt her. “Not so easy to defeat me, is it?”

Lila just growled, pulling her fist back, but Papillonne saw that punch coming from miles away. She ducked expertly. “You know, while you’ve been getting others to do your dirty work, I’ve been learning how to fight. So, thanks for the training!”

Papillonne whipped out her cane, knocking Lila’s fan from her hands. But Lila was also swift; as Papillonne bent down to pull the ring from Lila’s finger, Lila was already diving to regain her fan.

Papillonne started to groan, but Fennello hopped down, surprising her, landing on Lila’s other side. There was a cataclysm prepped on his hand, and Papillonne was momentarily confused, before she realized this must be an illusion, and the real Fennello must still be fighting the sentimonster.

“You’re surrounded. I think it’s time to give up. Or should I cataclysm you?” Fennello wiggled his eyebrows.

Lila simply rolled her eyes. “Please. I know an illusion when I see one.” And she easily kicked out a foot, knowing that once she made contact with the illusion, it would vanish.

But to both her and Papillonne’s surprise, Lila’s foot hit Fennello’s shin, but he remained there.

Lila staggered for a moment, trying to understand what she was seeing. Papillonne was trying to make eye contact with her partner. What was going on?

He grinned at Papillonne. “My partner was kind enough to bestow her cataclysm powers on me.”

As he spoke, the sentimonster caught up with them, flying over the roof, its wings buffeting the heroes. Papillonne noticed that Lila stood, immune to the sentimonster’s powers.

But as Lila was busy smirking over her own immunity, she didn’t hear Papillonne mutter under her breath. “Cataclysm,” she whispered, that familiar energy hopping into her palm.

Fennello was clever; he himself was real, but the black power in his hand was the illusion. Doubtless, if he touched something, it would vanish.

A plan hatched itself in Papillonne’s mind. She just hoped Fennello would understand her. “I’m powerless now without my cataclysm! I didn’t trust myself to not accidentally kill my best friend, so I gave it to Fennello. He’s not as clumsy as I am.” But her right hand was still deftly hidden behind herself.

Lila turned over her shoulder, shaking her head at Papillonne, who was doing her best to look weak and pathetic. “You heroes are so idiotic. You do understand how much easier it will be to get rid of you without your powers?”

Papillonne took her mind back into that place, pictured herself with Mme. Renault, trying to feel the sting of failure again. Those tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and so she chose that moment to say it. “I would rather lose to you than lose Alya,” and her voice broke on the name, perfectly convincing.

Lila liked hearing that, her pride making her unable to see the ruse. “If only I’d known earlier!” Her eyes closed as she laughed, and Papillonne’s gaze flew to Fennello’s. He nodded.

“Well, that day is not today! Cataclysm!” Fennello ran right at Lila, his arm outstretched, and just as Papillonne had hoped, the sentimonster dove between them, protecting Lila from impending death.

Fennello’s cataclysm made contact with the butterfly, and Lila laughed, and Papillonne shouted, as loud as she could, as frantically choked as she could manage, “NO!”

“YES!” Lila yelled back.

Papillonne collapsed to the ground, sobbing loudly.

Lila sauntered over to Papillonne, too focused on her victory to realize that her sentimonster was indeed, still flying. “Come on, Marinette. Your friend is dead. It’s time to give in, time to give me your miracle stones.” She stood over her, bending down to leer, close enough to touch.

Papillonne Noire nodded, slowly pulling her hand from behind her back, trying to draw it out, trying to take Lila off-guard…

Just as Lila might have been able to see the power there in Papillonne’s palm, she launched her hand forward, striking like a snake, trying to catch any part of Lila that she could manage before the other girl realized that she was in danger.

The cataclysm brushed against Lila’s shoe, discharging as soon as contact was made. Lila stumbled back, but it was too late. The power was no longer in Papillonne Noire’s palm, and Lila was rapidly turning dark purple.

“What? NO—!” she began to scream, but it got swallowed as she became a black statue, fragile enough to break into pieces at the slightest touch.

Papillonne Noire stood slowly, regarding Lila, frozen in an eternal cry. Well, maybe not so eternal. Papillonne pushed her finger into Lila’s chest, and she completely disintegrated, the pieces blowing away with the gentle wind from the butterfly sentimonster’s wings.

The ring popped off her finger, falling to the rooftop and rolling towards Fennello, stopping against his toe.

The heroes could only stare at it for a moment. As it came to a stop, the sentimonster vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Alya unconscious in its place.

Papillonne immediately snapped out of it, running to her friend, heart racing. They hadn’t used the unlucky charm this time. What if that had been the key, and without it, Alya was gone?

Papillonne Noire couldn’t turn Alya over fast enough. But when the black feather was there, and Papillonne gently extracted it, she let out a sigh of relief.

Alya blinked dazedly. “What… where am I?”

But she didn’t get an answer, only Papillonne’s arms pulling her into a tight, desperate embrace. She could feel her eyes sting with tears once more. There had been a chance that Alya may not have made it out of this battle, there had been the possibility that something could have happened to her. Papillonne tightened her grip. She didn’t like Alya being so endangered.

“You were turned into a sentimonster. But you’re safe now.” Fennello smiled down at her.

Papillonne abruptly remembered that she wasn’t supposed to know Alya. She pulled out of the hug, trying to come up with a good excuse for her reaction, but her mind was in a relieved fog. “I’m — I’m glad you’re okay, Mlle,” she confessed stiffly, avoiding looking into Alya’s eyes, in case the emotion in them gave her away. “Fennello and I didn’t use our usual methods, and I… was just worried, is all.”

But to her surprise, Alya threw her arms around Papillonne’s neck. “Thank you for saving me, Kitty Noire.”

Papillonne let herself melt into the hug, so happy that her friend was okay. So happy that she wouldn’t be in danger ever again. “It was my pleasure.”

When Alya pulled away, allowing herself to be helped up, she suddenly grew sheepish. “Um, would it be crazy to ask if I could interview the two of you for my blog?”

Fennello and Papillonne exchanged a glance. “Sure, but not today. I think we have some important post-battle business to attend to now,” he offered, probably because he knew she could never say no to Alya.

“Oh my God! Thank you so much!”

They took Alya back to the party, pretended to fly away, but then looped back, sneaking in through Lila’s open bedroom window.

Papillonne detransformed and collapsed into Fennello’s arms. He caught her, pulling her into a tender embrace and petting her head. “You did amazingly back there.”

She could only nod, completely drained. They had defeated Lila, rescued Alya. They did it. The truth of it rang in her ears, pumped in her blood. She should be happy, theoretically.

But now, Lila was dead.

“What’s going to happen to the party? Lila’s never coming back.”

Fennello shook his head. “That’s really what you’re thinking about right now?”

Marinette sighed, sitting down on Lila’s bed, her gaze catching on the pattern of the sheets. A dead girl’s bed, a dead girl’s sheets. An evil dead girl, sure, but still a girl that Marinette had killed.

“Maybe she disappeared, does it really matter? What matters is that we have the miracle stone.”

At his words, Marinette’s head popped up. She had forgotten all about it. Which was ridiculous, considering that was the point of… everything. “Can I see it?”

Fennello unzipped his pocket and pulled it out, putting it in her hand. Marinette turned it over with her fingers. The ultramarine gem was truly beautiful.

Nooroo emerged from Marinette’s purse. “We should get this stone to one of the guardians immediately. It’s not good for you to carry more than two stones at once.”

Marinette knew this. Yes, the stone did entreat her to wear it, but… somehow it was easy to resist. She didn’t actually want to put it on, she didn’t want to know what its power would feel like. It had been Lila’s, after all, and Marinette didn’t want to wear a gem she’d wielded. Besides, hadn’t the professor said it was cursed? She didn’t know what that really meant. Maybe she’d go bad if she slipped it on.

She handed it back to Fennello, who tucked it safely into his pocket, detransforming into Adrien afterwards. He joined her on the edge of the bed.

Wordlessly, Marinette leaned into Adrien, catching her lips against his. He read her intentions and pulled her into a kiss, and Marinette let herself dissolve into his touch. She needed to stop thinking about the fight, about Lila, about the miracle stones, about everything.

Sunday morning brought a meeting with Fu. Adrien and Marinette agreed a weekend office hours trip would be less suspect than any other place to meet.

Fennello fished out the miracle stone, placing it into Fu’s open palm. He nodded, taking the ring to his desk and dropping it into a bowl full of clear liquid.

Like ink dripping into water, the darkness started to seep out of the ring.

“What’s that?” Marinette asked.

“A cleansing solution. I prepared it last night when you texted me the news.”

She and Adrien drew a little closer, watching the purifying liquid pull the darkness from the miracle stone.

Fu sat back in his desk chair. “I must say, excellent work, you two. You’ve freed Paris from evil.”

Adrien’s hand reached for Marinette’s, squeezing it with pride. She met his eyes, grinning. That they did. And she was so happy that they had done it together.

“However, there are only three guardians, and seven stones. It would be unfair for me to choose only one of you to be the guardian of the peacock.”

Marinette and Adrien exchanged a glance. It would fine if Professor Fu chose Adrien to be the guardian; she didn’t need to be the one.

A rock formed in her stomach as she thought about that, though. So Fu intended to take his own stones back. Of course. They were his, after all. He was merely loaning them out. But thinking about a future without Plagg made Marinette’s shoulders fall. Maybe Fu would let her visit…

She started to slip off her ring, to hand it back to her professor.

“Marinette, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Fu interrupted, and she stopped, confused. “Because I’ve decided to keep the peacock. You two have earned your place in the Order of Guardians.”

Marinette could do nothing but blink. Was… Was he saying what she thought he was?

“So… I get to stay with Tikki?” Adrien managed to voice first.

Fu nodded sagely. “That miracle stone is now yours to protect. And I do not doubt that protect it you will, with everything you have.”

Tikki dived out from Adrien’s shirt pocket, nuzzling his cheek as he cupped her there. “Thank you, professor!”

Marinette opened her purse excitedly, and Plagg floated up to her eye level. “It’s been a great adventure having you as my wielder, Marinette. I’m glad it doesn’t have to end here.”

Marinette sighed happily, holding Plagg in her hands. “I’m glad, too.”

Both Nooroo and Trixx phased into the room, joining Tikki and Plagg, to watch as Fu pulled the peacock stone from the cursed liquid. He wiped it gently with a tissue, and allowed it to slip over his finger. The ring changed shape, glowing bright blue before the kwami inside appeared.

“Fu! Oh, I’m so grateful to be back! That girl was truly wicked, I didn’t feel like myself anymore, but now I feel amazing!” The peacock kwami flew in circles around the room, her bubbling excitement hard to contain.

“Duusu, tell us what happened.”

She stopped flying, landing on Fu’s desk. Marinette thought her coloring was beautiful, and her peacock feather tail was adorable. Why were all kwamis so cute?

“One moment, I was with Mme. Bustier, and the next I felt so ill, and this awful girl was using me to do evil things,” her little antennae drooped.

“You were cursed, Duusu, but you’re safe now.” Fu reached over, caressing her head with a finger. 

She leaned into his touch. “Oh! What a relief!” After a moment, though, she perked up, looking around the room. “Where is Caline?”

Fu’s shoulders fell. “No longer with us, I’m afraid.”

Duusu let out a crestfallen squeak, crumpling.

Marinette hung her head, and the whole room fell into silence. They had succeeded, but their success couldn’t take away the pain of that loss.

The first order of business was to return Nooroo and Trixx to M. Ramier. They said their goodbyes as they left Fu’s office, dropping the rings into a small paper bag.

M. Ramier was waiting for them at the park outside of the university, just as Fu had arranged for.

“Here’s some birdseed for you, M. Ramier. We thought you might need it for the pigeons.” Marinette handed the bag over to him, smiling lightly.

“Oh! My dear pigeons! Did you hear that? I have some extra treats for you!” He cooed dimwittedly to the birds around them.

Marinette and Adrien waved as they left, hand-in-hand.

“Well, what now?” Adrien asked.

Marinette could only shake her head, her shoulders light for the first time in months. “Whatever we want.”

In the coming days, Kitty Noire and Coccinello gave Alya the interview she had asked for.

“So, are you guys still going to be heroes?” Alya asked, and Kitty Noire decided this was the moment to be honest with the world.

“No. This will be our last public appearance. The monsters have been defeated, and so we no longer have a reason to scout for danger. But we have loved being your heroes.”

Alya lowered the camera into her lap. “Really?” she asked softly, looking right into Kitty Noire’s eyes, imploring her to give a different answer.

But Kitty looked at Coccinello. They could finally be together in a way apart from curious eyes and crazy fans. Why would they ever go back to that unless they had to?

“Really,” Kitty breathed. “But,” she continued, returning her gaze to Alya, “we will always be right here, in Paris. You just won’t recognize us anymore.”

Alya nodded, wiping a tear away with a finger.

In addition to their university classes, Marinette and Adrien now had mandatory guardian lessons.

Sometimes they’d be sprawled on the floor of Fu’s office, books piled around them, Marinette trying to decipher a paragraph from the grimoire that Adrien had already translated. The guardian code made her head hurt to learn, but she knew it was necessary. If anything happened to Fu, God forbid, it would be her responsibility to know this stuff.

Other times they’d be seated on Mme. Lenoir’s sofa, a plate of butter cookies and lemonade glasses on the coffee table beside the tomes. Adrien would be trying to perfect the magical potions that Marinette had already successfully brewed, getting frustrated as he accidentally misread sugar as salt. The liquid turned lime green, instead of bright purple. His shoulders fell, but Marinette and Mme. Lenoir helped him prep the ingredients to do it over, and he smiled when Tikki gave him a reassuring cuddle.

One day, after one such escapade, Adrien asked, “How were the miracle stones created, anyway?”

Plagg and Tikki nodded at one another, and Plagg began speaking. “We kwamis are the oldest creatures in the universe. It’s our power that allows things to stay in balance. The Grand Mage, as he would become known as, discovered us —”

“Discovered you,” Tikki interjected.

Plagg sighed, nodding. “Yes, discovered me. But I couldn’t help myself. He had left some of his milk out to culture, and I just had to have some. He found me eating the world’s first cheese, and well, we hit it off.”

Tikki crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at his impertinence, but she smiled as he continued to speak.

“The Grand Mage worked tirelessly to make the magical jewels that you wear on your fingers even now. He documented his discoveries in his journal, in a code that he had created — the guardian’s code. When the gems were ready, he asked me to try them out. Being unified with the Grand Mage was an amazing experience, and we worked together to try and discover a way to use my powers safely. At first, it was only Tikki and me, but soon all of the kwamis had a magical jewel in which they chose to reside, and the Grand Mage became the first guardian.” 

Tikki elaborated. “Eventually, whenever something dangerous arose — be it war, or some darker type of magic, the Grand Mage and his disciples used our powers to defend his kingdom and all that could compromise his discovery. And that’s how it continued, for the rest of time. Humans became able to protect themselves, and we became able to use our powers.”

Marinette’s brow furrowed. “But why would you need the mages to be able to use your powers?”

“Our powers are so strong, that without a vessel to dilute them, we could never use them or else risk throwing the universe out of balance!” Tikki explained. “The Grand Mage allowed us to reach our full potential without destroying the world.”

“Wow,” Marinette breathed, trying to imagine what the Grand Mage must have been like. Devoting his life to magic. Not too different than she was, in the end.

“Alright, the history lesson is over. Marinette, I think it’s your turn to make the next magic potion.” Mme. Lenoir refilled their lemonades and Marinette tried not to sigh as she turned the page in the ancient book. But suddenly, reading the guardian’s code and assembling the ingredients didn’t seem so banal anymore. Instead she could only think of the Grand Mage, discovering these recipes, creating them, in a time too far away to fathom.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it), Chloé’s birthday was the following weekend, and she extended an invitation to Marinette.

“See, I don’t think Chloé hates you,” Adrien assured her. “She went to all this trouble even though she knew I would bring you anyway.”

Marinette frowned. The glitzy pink party invite — with her own name etched across the front, in impeccable calligraphy — leered at her. So Chloé hand-wrote her an invitation. Did she do it because she genuinely wanted Marinette there? Or because, as Adrien said, she knew she’d be there anyway, and might as well include her on the guest list?

Marinette groaned, tucking the floral-scented card back into the envelope. She knew she’d end up going, if only for Adrien.

Once they were there, at Le Grand Paris Hôtel, among all the other socialites Chloé had invited, dread began to pool in Marinette’s gut. Why was she here? She didn’t fit in at all.

As they walked among the throng, Adrien saying hello and waving and shaking hands, Marinette stayed at his side, trying to shrink, trying to be as small as possible.

“Happy birthday, Chlo,” he grinned and embraced his old friend, the belle of the ball. Chloé’s dress was a slinky, glittery black number, and she even had matching gloves and a hat. Her hair was curled to perfection. Marinette had to admit to herself that she looked lovely.

She held him tightly. “Thank you, and thank you for coming!”

He nodded, pulling away to bring Marinette into the conversation. All she could do was smile and wave politely. “Thanks for inviting me.”

To Marinette’s surprise, Chloé’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Marinette! You made it! And wow, your dress is stunning!”

Marinette looked down at herself, as if to ascertain that they were both seeing the same dress. It was just a lavender satin cocktail piece, nothing like the designer dress Chloé was assuredly wearing. “Um, thanks,” she managed, too stunned for eloquence.

At that moment, Adrien perked up, waving his arms and calling loudly to someone across the room. “Ali! Ali! Over here!”

Marinette turned to see a dignified-looking young man hurrying toward them, and didn’t have time to prepare for Ali to jump into a hug with Adrien. The two men clapped one another on the back, and Adrien enthused, his eyes bright, “I had no idea you’d be here! Are you staying in Paris?”

Ali shook his head. “No, I’m just here for Chloé, it’s the least I could do.”

Marinette’s shoulders fell as Chloé bubbled over the young man, and the conversation became something she couldn’t possibly join in on. She should have brought Alya along as her plus-one, just so she’d have someone else to talk to, but she hadn’t wanted to subject her friend to Chloé for her sake.

“Ali, this is my girlfriend, Marinette,” Adrien said, pulling her from her reverie. 

Marinette nodded, putting out her hand to shake.

“It’s a pleasure!” Ali grinned at her, and Marinette was winded by how bright, how genuine that grin was. Ali really meant it, it was indeed a pleasure.

“L—Likewise,” she spluttered.

“Marinette, this is Ali. He went to high school with Chloé and me. You could say we were best friends,” he said with a laugh.

“The three of us were always getting into some trouble or other,” Chloé joined in their reminiscence.

“Oh, that’s right!” Ali brightened, although Marinette wasn’t sure how. The kid seemed to have an endless supply of energy. “Adrien, I’ve been meaning to introduce you,” he gestured over to the other side of the hall, where he’d been standing when Adrien had called him over.

“I’ll be right back,” Adrien assured Marinette before following his friend’s lead. Which left Marinette alone. With Chloé.

They watched the men disappear into the crowd, and Marinette’s shoulders fell.

“How are you enjoying the party, so far?” Chloé asked, all friendliness.

Marinette’s eyebrows came together, and her gaze fell to the floor. Chloé could have made her excuses, left Marinette by herself, gone to fraternize with her other guests — it was her party after all — but she was still here, trying to make small talk.

Why?

“It’s alright. I feel a little strange, to be honest.”

“Why is that?” She cocked her head.

“I just…” Marinette looked back up at the girl who’d starred in all her angriest daydreams last year, and decided to say it. “I don’t understand the change. When we lived together, you were nothing but vicious to me and Alya. And now… it’s like you’re a different person. I’m just trying to follow along, trying to figure out what happened.”

Chloé’s expression fell, her arms moved to wrap about herself. “You’re right. I’m sorry for being such a terrible roommate to you.”

Marinette blinked a few times. An apology? Right off the bat, without any wheedling or excuses? Who was this girl?

“Um… yeah,” Marinette continued. “I just don’t understand how you thought we were on good terms when you stole my dress and used it to get the internship I wanted, right out from under me. It wasn’t nice, and you never apologized for it.”

Chloé said nothing, just continued to stare at the marble flooring.

Spurred on by her silence, Marinette kept going. “I want to look past this, I really do. Because you’re Adrien’s friend, and… I want to like who Adrien likes, be friends with Adrien’s friends…”

“I was jealous,” Chloé breathed out abruptly.

“Of?”

Chloé exhaled deeply. “Of you, dummy. You’re so talented, and driven. And I’m none of those things. All I know how to be is demanding. If I ask for something, I get it. I never have to work hard. And you might think that sounds like a dream, but for once I wanted to feel like I’d earned something, like I deserved the accolades I received.”

Marinette sighed. Even though she was finally being honest, it was still so Chloé. As though stealing another person’s work equalled you earning their awards.

“If you want, I can get in touch with my people, get you a spot in my department —”

She broke off when Marinette shook her head. “I already have a design internship. And anyway, it’s just as you said. I don’t want a position if I haven’t earned it.”

Chloé’s whole body seemed to sag in shame. “I know,” she whispered.

Seeing her like this — so pitiful, without the regal aura — pulled at Marinette’s heart strings, despite herself. She didn’t want to forgive Chloé. But she also had never seen her look so sorry in her life.

Marinette noticed Adrien starting to make his way back to them. She sighed, not wanting him to witness this, and said the words she knew would make Chloé feel better, even if she didn’t quite mean them. It was her birthday, after all, and Marinette wanted Chloé to have a good time. “Look. I forgive you. Kind of,” she added when Chloé perked up in disbelief. “Maybe we should make an effort to understand and respect one another, going forward. For his sake,” she gestured with her head in Adrien’s direction.

Chloé nodded fiercely, straightening up. “Thank you. It’s more than I deserve.”

And, to her surprise, Marinette found that the smile she gave Chloé was genuine. She hadn’t forgiven Chloé, but maybe she would someday.

Marinette’s heart raced as she clutched the handle to the door of the Parisian Design House.

Adrien and Alya followed her inside, heading to the showroom. Today the bowler hats would be judged, and one person would emerge, victorious. Marinette wasn’t sure she’d ever been this nervous before.

“I’m sure your hat will astound the judges,” Alya tried to reassure her. But would that be enough? What if another hat was even more astounding?

As they settled into their seats, Marinette’s phone went off. She quickly moved to silence it, but the contact on her screen read “Maman.”

Under other circumstances, Marinette would let it go to voicemail. But… now that she was no longer Kitty Noire, now that she wasn’t keeping secrets anymore, she felt ridiculous to ignore it.

“I’m gonna take this. Let me know when they start,” she whispered to Adrien, who nodded in surprise as she stepped out of the room and into the refreshment hall.

“Hello, Maman,” Marinette said into the receiver, and for once she was relieved to be saying it.

“Marinette! It’s so good to hear from you!”

She sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so bad at keeping in touch, I… It’s been a crazy few months. But things are back to normal now.”

“What kind of crazy?” her father asked, and Marinette shook her head.

“School, work, my internship, my love life… all of it has changed so much since the beginning of the school year. But… I’m happy, and I promise I’ll be better at calling.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we didn’t realize… You know you can always come to us, to talk about anything. You never have to feel overwhelmed about sharing anything with us.” Her mother.

Marinette tried not to let that work her up. She knew her mother meant what she said, that there was nothing too big or small for Marinette to bring to them. The  conviction in her words moved Marinette, and she wished so badly that it could have been true. That she could have confided in them, that things could have been different.

“I know. But it’s over now,” was all she said, running the back of her hand over her eyes.

Adrien came into the room at that moment, gesturing for her to return.

“Um, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go, they’re about to announce the winners of the hat contest.”

“Oh! Already? Best of luck!” her mother called.

“We’re so proud of you,” her father echoed.

“Thank you,” Marinette breathed, trying to rein her tears in. “I’ll call you back when it’s over.”

The line went dead, and Marinette’s nerves jumped back into her stomach, full-force. Although when she was seated in between Adrien and Alya, and Hera was bringing out the hatboxes for the judging panel, Marinette felt some of that anxiety drain. She could speak with her parents again, and that was already a victory.

One by one, Hera removed the lids from the hatboxes. The first hat was Ronaldo’s — he had stuck with the flamingo design, and it looked completely fabulous. Carnation pink everywhere, in tulle, boa feathers, and ribbon, complete with a neck in the front and a popped leg in the back. The judges gasped and cooed.

The second hat was Mireille’s, the swan. It wasn’t as impressive as Ronaldo’s, but still sleek and refined, white everywhere, with a touch of orange.

The following hat was her own, and Marinette sunk further into her seat as the judges ogled and oohed over her pigeon-inspired design. Alya elbowed her excitedly, but Marinette didn’t want to let herself get too wired up.

The other hat that received much attention from the panel was Théo’s. His penguin design was exquisite, with felt to mimic the soft fur-like feathers of the creatures.

The judges took some time to look over all the hats, sending the attendees to the refreshment tables in the adjacent room, letting them enjoy the snacks, or — in Marinette’s case — letting them shove finger sandwiches into their mouths to avoid thinking about what was happening behind that closed door.

“Relax, it’s gonna be okay. Even if you don’t win, I have no doubt you’ll make at least third place. Against thirty hats, that’s still something to be proud of.” Alya asserted between sips of punch.

“How can you be so sure?” Marinette’s shoulders were practically up to her ears.

“Because your hat is phenomenal.”

Adrien put his hand on Marinette’s shoulder, trying to get her to relax. “I know a thing or two about fashion, and I also thought your hat looked spectacular. Please stop being so tense, my love,” he assured her softly.

The doors reopened, and the attendees began returning to their seats. Marinette followed, but she couldn’t share Alya’s and Adrien’s confidence. Yes, her hat had been well-received. But was it one of the best? There was no way she could win. Everything else in her life was suddenly going so well, thanks to their victory against Lila. So what would be the likelihood of this going well, too?

Once everyone had taken their seats, Hera walked to the podium. “After much debate, the judges have unanimously decided on three winners for this year’s hat contest.

“In third place, M. Ronaldo Girroult, with his flamingo hat!”

The crowd erupted into applause, and Ronaldo stood from his place a few seats down from her. He grinned and bowed, and Marinette clapped harder. He had supported her unwaveringly ever since her first day interning, and she was so thankful for him, and so proud that he had won this. He deserved it.

Once the crowd had quietened, Hera cleared her throat. “For second place, M. Théo Barbot, for his penguin hat!”

Théo jumped up, his face nothing but shock. Marinette hollered, her hands starting to hurt now from such ferocious clapping. Théo’s hat had been her favorite, and she was so pleased that everyone else seemed to love it as well.

After that loud round of applause, Hera grinned as she stalled reading the first place winner.

Marinette’s stomach tightened. This was it. Either she had won this, or she had lost completely. Her heart started to sink. Probably the latter. Her hat wasn’t better than Théo’s, so there was no way. But she wasn’t unhappy — she was so proud of the winners, and knew that whoever Hera called would be just as deserving.

“In first place, Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng! For her pigeon hat!”

The crowd burst into cheers and loud applause, and it took Marinette a moment to realize that this was reality, that she hadn’t dreamed her name being called.

Alya had to pull her out of her seat, but once she was standing, the cheering grew louder. All Marinette could do was put her hands over her face in shock, her eyes pricking with tears, her legs shaking with adrenaline.

When she finally sat back down — and Alya hugged her tightly, whispered, “I knew you could do it!” — and Adrien gave her a light kiss, told her, “I love you, Marinette,” — she finally allowed herself to really accept that she had done it.

She had defeated their enemy, she had retrieved the lost miracle stone, and even though Mme. Bustier would never know, at least Duusu could be happy again, in the safe hands of Professor Fu.

She had gotten to stay with Plagg, gotten to join the Order of Guardians.

She had won Adrien’s heart after all, and had strengthened her friendship with Alya, and had sorted things out with her parents, and had even gotten past her anger at Chloé.

And now, she had won the bowler hat contest. Which meant the opportunity to become a real designer under the Parisian Design House, not just an intern any longer.

She had done it all, and that truth settled into all her broken and cracked pieces, filling them like a warm, golden glue.

“Thank you,” she whispered, to no one in particular, before bursting into elated tears.

She had done it.