Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Chat Noir!" Ladybug held out a hand to grab her partner, who was dangling from the side of the building with one hand. She grabbed his free arm with both her own and he held on desperately.

"My lady!" Chat gasped as he could feel his hand growing tired and losing its grip.

Ladybug dug her heels in the edge of the building, right under the ledge and crouched low, bringing her centre of equilibrium lower. She clenched her teeth and scowled in preparation.

Chat could feel his fingers losing strength and slipping off the edge. He curled them inwards, his claws digging into the cement. His arm quivered and he knew he'd have to let go very soon. If he let go, he would most likely drag the both of them over the edge and to their deaths. "I'm going to have to let go soon!" he warned her.

She nodded and braced herself, putting all of her strength to her lower body and started to haul him up. As she did, Chat let go of the edge of the building and for one jarring split second, hung freely. He quickly grabbed onto her arm, his feet scrabbling to find a foothold. Trouble is, the ledge of this building stuck a good foot out and he couldn't find a foothold if he tried; he was just freely hanging in there.

As he let go and his full weight hung from her arms, Ladybug was pulled forward a few heartstopping inches before she dug her heels in deeper. Even with the Miraculous, Chat was a dead weight and he was heavy. Her legs quivered and she gasped, putting in the last reserves of her strength into her arms and legs, using her position for better leverage. It took a lot of work, but she managed to pull him over the ledge until he could get his elbows on the edge.

Then the work was much simpler, because he could support his own weight. Together, they pulled him over the edge and onto the roof; both collapsing onto each other afterwards from exhaustion.

Ladybug forced herself to sit and crawl forward to him. She'd beaten the newest akuma-ridden human, only to turn around to find Chat hanging over the ledge, calling out to her desperately. Chat Noir was a few inches away from her, lying on his side and curling in a foetal position. She put a hand on his shoulder tentatively.

"Chat?" she murmured softly. "You're shaking."

He laughed weakly. "It's what happens when you see all nine of your lives flashing before your eyes." He tried to sit up.

Ladybug kept him firmly where he is. "Stay where you are until the shock wears off," she soothed, crawling forward until her knees met his. "I thought you said cats and nine lives are a myth," she tried to make light of the situation. Trying to sooth him, she stroked his hair gently, watching the strands glide easily between her fingers.

He gave another shaky laugh. "If that was just one life, it was a very long one. I'm sorry, my lady."

"Don't be. I'm here for you." Just as she said it, her earring beeped. She had three dots left.

Chat Noir's ring beeped as well, mirroring hers.

She looked around hesitantly as she stood up, knees still shaking from the adrenaline. "I- I guess I have to go...?"

"No, wait!" Chat Noir called out, scrambling to a stand as well. "Ladybug please. I'm tired of all this secrecy. I'm tired of hiding. When I was dangling on the side of this fifty storey building, I thought about all the things I've wanted to do but never got the chance to; things I've always told myself that I shouldn't let others know. But now I'm done with that. I just want you to know. I want you to know who I am behind this mask. I'm ready."

Ladybug hesitated still. "Chat Noir, I told you a while ago that this wouldn't be a good idea. I'm not ready for this." Her earring beeped midsentence. Two dots left. She clasped a hand over her ear.

"Then I'll close my eyes. I swear on my life, I will not peek. But for me, Ladybug, I want you to know. I want you to know beyond who you think I am. I want you to know me." His ring beeped and he curled his hand into a tight fist. He was still shaking, but not from his near death experience. "I'm ready," he repeated, his tone firmer than before.

Both their Miraculous beeped. One dot left. Ladybug could feel the seconds ticking as she struggled to make a decision. By now she knew it was too late to make a legitimate escape. She took a deep breath and let it out in a soft whisper. "Okay." She closed the small gap between them and took his hands in hers as an act of faith. Faith that he will keep his word and that he will ensure his eyes stay closed. "Close your eyes."

Quickly, he scrunched his eyes tight. A split second after he did, the Miraculous beeped its last beep and their transformations wore off. She closed her eyes as well against the glare of the transformation. When the transformation wore off, she could feel the heat of his hand on hers without the gloves. His hands are cold and they were still shaking.

Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. She was apprehensive; this was Chat Noir, her fighting partner. He was ready to reveal himself to her and respected her wish against revealing herself. Still, it felt almost like fear. She was afraid to open her eyes.

Finally, she forced her eyes open, blinking in the glare of the setting sun. The first thing she noticed was that her back was to the sun and she cast a shadow over him. Her eyes fell on their hands, loosely intertwined. Her fingers looked pale and very delicate in between his. Slowly, she ran her eyes upwards. When her gaze fell on his face, this face without its mask, she gasped in absolute shock and leapt back as if she'd touched a live wire. She felt very odd, like she was doused in icy water or like she was watching everything from somewhere else. Like she wasn't here.

But there was no mistaking it. She knew this blonde hair, she knew almost painfully that if he'd open his eyes, they'd be a brilliant shade of green. This was the face that she'd watched with earnest yearning for so long.

"My lady?" His mouth opened, his voice rolled out exactly the way she'd always admired it. But these were not his words.

Marinette walked backwards, away from him. She can't believe it; all this time she'd yearned for him, all this time she had pined for him and he was right there by her side. After all this time, he was by her side. Unconsciously, her hands flew to her mouth and she let out a sob.

"Ladybug?"

"Stay away from me!" she squeaked, tripping over her feet and falling down with a hard thump, wind knocked out of her.

"My lady, are you okay?" Adrien made to help her, eyes still scrunched tight.

"No!" She instinctively held out a hand to stop him, which was unnecessary. "This was a mistake! I'm sorry but this was such a mistake. I knew I should just leave things as they are; I knew this was a bad idea." She was rambling now and she couldn't stop. She just couldn't believe it, couldn't wrap her head around it. Adrien is Chat Noir??

He stopped short, arms still outstretched to blindly help her. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he let his arms fall lifelessly to his side. "You know me." It was a statement of fact. There was no going about it now. "I'm not who you thought I was." His voice had taken on a flat tone.

"I'm sorry," Marinette blurted out as she was turning away. "I need to think about this-"

"What's there to think about?" Adrien lashed out, his voice turning harsh, pinning her to where she stood. "I am Chat Noir and I am Adrien Agreste. What is so hard about it?"

"Chat-"

"You can call me Adrien," he spat out. "I'm out of costume. I'm out of my mask."

Marinette just stared at him and he just stood there, glaring back from behind his eyelids to where he assumed she was. Steeling herself, she crossed the distance between them and put a hand on his, which he had unknowingly turned into hard fists.

She never knew that she would be able to do this before, if someone were to tell her. She placed a hand on his cheek, not touching it, just letting it brush his skin. The taut muscles of his cheek jumped but he remained resolute.

"I'm sorry," she breathed out shakily. "I just have to go think about this."

"But why?" His voice just sounded like it was dragged over rusty nails. "Why is it so hard to understand?"

"It's a shock to me," she tried to explain.

"I didn't even open my eyes. I kept my promise." Now he just sounded plaintive, like a child who had lost its way.

You can picture happy gath'rings

'Round the fireside long ago,

"And I'm very grateful for it." His hands had unclenched and her hand was resting easily in it. "But I have to go."

"You don't care about me. Now that the mystery's gone, you want nothing to do with me."

"Don't say that," she said firmly, her tone soft and consoling. "I have to go."

She made to leave, but he held her hand tight. She sighed wearily. "Adrien, please. Let me go. I just need to think. I'll come back. I promise. Please."

His eyes were still shut tight, but she saw the tears running down his cheeks, reflecting the setting sun until they looked like rivers of fire. "Don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise. I'll come back. Please, let me go."

There was a long silence before she felt the grip on her hand loosen.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again as she turned away.

And you think of tearful partings,

When they left you here below.

The sun had set fully yet Adrien was still where he was, his eyes still screwed shut so tight he saw stars. "Plagg, transform me," he whispered to the cooling air.

The black kwami zoomed out of his hiding place and peered at Adrien in concern, "Adrien, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Plagg, transform me," Adrien repeated, his voice harder. This was no longer a request, it was a command.

Plagg blinked at this boy whom he'd grown fond of in the time they'd spent together. He acquiesced in the end. As Chat Noir, he finally opened his eyes to the dark sky.

Somewhere, a wall opened its panels, revealing a clear window, letting the bright moonlight stream in the otherwise pitch black room. "Well, this is a new turn of events," Hawkmoth said silkily, his grin growing wider than ever.

Chapter Text

Saturday

Marinette's eyes flew open and the moment they did she recalled the events of the night before.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

Thankfully it's the weekend now so she doesn't have to face him. Her eyes burned from the night she spent tossing and turning. She blinked rapidly before rubbing them with the back of her hands unnecessarily hard. She blinked again and threw herself on the bed, stroking her pillow as the thought turned in her head.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

"Marinette?" Tikki zoomed over to her and put a small hand on her forehead gently. "Are you okay?"

She remained silent for a short while. "Did you know about this?" she asked, her voice breaking from disuse.

Slowly, the kwami shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I had no idea. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

Marinette lifted her head off the pillow fractionally. "You wouldn't? Even if I begged?" Tikki shook her head. "But why?"

"It's not my secret to tell." The reply was simple, concise and logical. Surprising for the normally bubbly kwami. "I'm sorry, Marinette," she apologised again.

The girl closed her eyes slowly, as though she was in pain. "No," she sighed. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. If anything I should be sorry. I freaked out so badly, I must've startled him as much as I startled myself. He must be so worried right now."

Tikki just placed a hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I was just as shocked. It's not your fault. It was a huge shock to all of us. Don't blame yourself for something beyond your control."

"But he was so sincere about it. He wanted me to know and he was very accommodating to me not wanting him to know about me. I feel very guilty. Like I betrayed something."

The pink kwami very gently rubbed the underside of Marinette's red eyes. "You didn't. You just need to take it all in. It's natural."

"Is it? Is it really?" Marinette sat up and rubbed her eyes again. "Or is it more natural to support him no matter what? I told him I'd always be there for him. I always said I needed him. Now that he needs me, I run away?" With a loud groan, she buried her face on the pillow.

"Marinette, if you're going to keep on blaming yourself like this I'm going to leave you at it," Tikki said, her voice uncharacteristically hard. "It's unfair to just expect you to take this in your stride. You didn't know this was going to happen, I didn't know this was going to happen. These things take time. Trust me on this," her voice turned gentle again.

Marinette was silent as she considered this, breathing into the pillow until her chest hurt. Finally, she looked up. "Yeah," she conceded. "Yeah, you're right. I'll stop this."

"Good. Now face the day with a smile!"

She forced a smile to push the corners of her mouth, despite feeling the furthest emotionally from an actual smile. She waved at her kwami and said she'd better go downstairs and help with the shop.

One by one their seats were emptied,

And one by one they went away;

Sunday

She was awake, but kept her eyes closed.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

Mon dieu. Why are secrets that are not your own weigh the heaviest? She forced another smile to Tikki and went downstairs to help with the shop.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

The thought rose unbidden as she measured the flour.

Adrien Agreste-

She separated the egg whites from the yolks.

-is Chat Noir.

Her father handed her a huge bowl of dough she was supposed to knead.

Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir.

"Marinette."

Her mind was jolted back to reality. She looked at her father and blinked in confusion.

"Don't knead the dough too hard," he smiled at her benignly. With the herculean effort she hoped he couldn't see, she smiled back at him. She could tell he was puzzled, but decided against asking. Instead, he just rested a huge hand on her shoulder and patted it, leaving behind hand-shaped flour marks on her dark jacket.

Does Nino know?

She immediately thought of sharing; secrets get so much lighter when you share them. But...

She shook her head. This was not a frivolous secret. This was not something you can just let your tongue slip. No. This is a secret she must keep deep inside her stomach. This is a secret she must keep to her death.

That night, Marinette sat in front of her homework. She'd done almost nothing, too wrapped up in her own world. Too wrapped up in her thoughts.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

Frowning, she shook her head and resolutely opened her book, determined to not let it stop her from doing her job. She was halfway done when her phone beeped with a text.

It was from Alya.

"Hey, do you know how to do number 10?"

Marinette picked up her phone to type a reply when her fingers moved on their own accord.

"Adrien is Chat Noir."

Gasping, she dropped her phone. She slapped herself on both cheeks and let out a long breath. Tikki looked over at her from her position on the bed and Marinette just pushed out another smile and shrugged in an "oh silly me look at what I've done" kind of way.

When Tikki looked away, she reached forward with shaking hands and took her phone as carefully as she can. Carefully, she erased the text and replaced it with a new one.

"No. Haven't reached there yet haha."

It was a blatant lie. She'd done it. But she just didn't want to prolong the texting in case she let something slip. She switched the phone off and continued with her work and then wearily climbing into bed when she was done.

As she sank into her bed, she couldn't remember ever feeling this heavy nor weary.

Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir.

Monday

Where did the days go? She wasn't ready for today. She wasn't ready to face school. She wasn't ready to face him.

"Marinette?"

She shook her head and smiled automatically at her mother, who wasn't as easily fooled as her father.

"Are you okay?"

Marinette nodded. "I'm fine."

Mrs Dupain-Cheng frowned, unconvinced. "Are you sure? Nothing on your mind at all?"

Marinette shook her head. "Just school." She shoved another smile onto her face.

Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir.

Peering at her daughter, Mrs Dupain-Cheng frowned and pushed a mug to her. "Here, have some tea. And don't worry about school so much. It's not good for you."

Marinette just nodded and gulped down the tea. Shoving a croissant into her mouth, she bade her mother goodbye and skipped out the door and ran to school.

She was early. Only a handful of her classmates were sitting in their seats. She sat at her seat and waved absentmindedly at anyone who greeted her. This heaviness did not subside overnight. She sighed and turned things over in her mind again.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

Before she knew it, everyone was in their seats and the class was about the start. Alya asked her a question which she didn't hear.

Marinette asked Alya to repeat the question and answered it this time when she noticed something. Adrien wasn't here. She nudged Nino and asked where Adrien was; it wasn't like him to miss class. Nino just shrugged.

Fifteen minutes into the lesson, the principal knocked on their door and held a whispered conversation with the teacher outside the classroom as the rest of the class sat up to attention. This doesn't happen normally.

Finally, the two of them came back inside the class and faced them, their teacher's eyes were glistening. The principal cleared his throat and straightened his tie; he didn't want to be the one to break the news to them. He cleared his throat one final time and said it. The class gasped in shock, no one more shocked than Marinette.

Adrien is missing.

Now the family is parted,

Will it be complete one day?

Chapter Text

The police came. One by one they were taken to the principal's office for questioning. They went one after the other, according to the roster. When it was finally her turn, Marinette had to physically heave herself onto her feet, pushing against her desk so hard her arms trembled. She felt so heavy, so weary. Like all her strength was used up. She stayed there for a while, hands plastered on her desk, eyes tracing the wood's whorls. Alya instinctively put a hand at the small of her back reassuringly. For what felt like the millionth time, Marinette pushed another smile onto her face. They say that even if you force out a smile, psychologically it would make you feel better. They lied. If anything, she felt even more down and bleak.

Outside the classroom was Sabrina's father, ready to escort her to the office, as if she don't know the way herself. Or like they were afraid she would run. No; she's tired of running. Now is the time to face it head on. Marinette dragged heavy feet to the office, only talking to Sabrina's father when she was spoken to.

Inside the office, it was relatively the same. Behind the desk, instead of the principal was an inspector and next to him, standing with their pen poised over a notepad was his partner. They smiled at Marinette when she came in but she could see how tired the inspector was. As she crossed the room and sat down, the inspector murmured to his partner about notifying Mayor Bourgeois that they did not in any way bodily harm his daughter.

As the inspector's partner nodded and jotted down the note, he turned to her with another tired smile that looked quite genuine. He folded his hands on the table. "Good morning, Miss Dupain-Cheng. My name is Inspector Clouseau. I trust you are feeling well."

Marinette could only smile in response. Then the interrogation really began. Is she a good friend of Adrien? Did Adrien come to school on Friday? How did he look like? Was he upset? Is he having problems at home? When was the last time she saw him? Why did Marinette look tired? Marinette answered the best she could, the concern and confusion on her face quite genuine.

The most shaken out of all of them was Nino. His normally bouyant self looked physically deflated, his shoulders hunched forward and the brim of his cap hid most of his face as he stared at his desk for the rest of the school day. Sometimes he would look up and glance bleakly at the vacant seat next to him. When Alya asked him questions he'd only mumble a response, his face ashen.

When school ended, Ladybug went to the last place she and Chat Noir were together. She scoured the place from top to bottom, trying to find any clue as to what happened there but knew that after the weekend, it would be impossible to find any conclusive evidence. Plus, she highly doubted that someone could just sneak up on him and attack him, or kidnap him. He's Chat Noir, he can handle himself.

Chat Noir is Ad-

She immediately scrunched her eyes tightly and pushed the thought out. She didn't need that right now. Now, she needed to focus. She got on the roof, thoroughly dismayed and disappointed. Where is he?

She scoured every place she could think of, asked every person she could find and by sunset, she was exhausted.

However, she managed to continue the search for four days, each day the news flooding with more pictures of him, the posters of him now becoming "Have you seen him?" posters. Each day the classroom became more and more hushed and Nino becoming more and more lifeless. Each day leaving her more exhausted.

Leaning against the balustrade of one of the abandoned buildings at the edge of town, she pulled out her bag and flipped it open as she tried to call Chat for the umpteenth time. There wasn't even static, there was only the shrill squeal of when you put two old telephone receivers close to each other. She snapped the bag shut with a sharp sigh. She'd called the Agreste residence as Ladybug to gather more information, but got little that were of use. No one had seen him since Friday.

"A little ladybird told me you were looking for me."

Ladybug's eyes widened. She knew this voice. But it couldn't be. It must've been her tired mind making it up to ease her guilt. She scrambled to her feet and faced the direction of the voice. "Chat?"

Like something from a dream, there he was, about two metres away from her, looking a bit thinner and just slightly more gaunt. But it was him.

Unthinkingly, she crossed the distance between them and threw her arms around him unabashedly. "Where have you been? Everyone's been so worried!" The words came tumbling out, stringing into one long sentence. She hugged him tightly; to feel how real he was, to feel him here. She felt the weight lift off of her shoulders. This feeling was odd; relief, yes, but also of something else. Something that almost feels like coming home after a long day.

She pulled away from him after a long while and just looked at him up and down, taking it all in. That's when she noticed something extremely wrong.

This was Chat, right? "Chat Noir?" she asked tentatively, releasing him as she backed away slowly.

He chuckled as he shook his head slowly. "It's Chat Blanc now, actually."

It was kind of obvious since his normal black jumpsuit was now bleached white, down to the baton, which he had taken out and was now twirling in one hand.

Ladybug backed away slowly, until she bumped into the balustrade and could retreat no more. "Chat, what are you doing? What's wrong with you? You've gotten everyone so worried."

"Oh, now they're worried, aren't they?" The words dropped like stones and he let out a bark of laughter. "When I was visible, I was invisible. But the moment I'm gone, everyone can see me. The irony of this is too much." He flicked out his hand and the baton extended smoothly. "Far too much."

"Chat, what are you doing?"

"I've realised what I did wrong. The one person who loved me was taken away, leaving me with a shell of meat who couldn't look at the son that reminded him too much of his wife. I've tried to please that man. Tried so hard," he squeezed his eyes shut before opening them slowly. "I was repulsive to my father, forced to put on ridiculous clothes and then embarrassingly displayed which led to being harassed by teens and older women; all for him. To put the icing on the cake, the one person I loved, the one person I wanted to matter to, ran away from me as soon as they saw who I really am."

Ladybug could only listen, her mouth dry, the dread becoming heavier and heavier. This was new weight on her shoulders. The guilt was gone, momentarily and only to be replaced by dread. "It can't be all that bad, right?" she tried to soothe him. "I mean, you had good friends didn't you?"

There are loved ones in the glory, 

Whose dear forms you often miss;

He stilled. "Yes," he murmured quietly as he lowered his staff. "I had one very good friend." This gave her enough courage to move forward a couple of paces. "He was only good to fill the silence!" Chat suddenly exploded, lifting his staff up high and swinging it down, missing Ladybug's leg by a fraction of an inch. She felt the ripple of air it made as it swung down.

Instinctively, she jumped away. "Chat, what are you doing?" Ladybug demanded.

"The Miraculous Stone is in her earrings. Take the Miraculous and they will all love you."

"Fixing a couple of wrongs." He charged at her again, staff high over his head. He swung his staff with dizzying speed and caught Ladybug on the defensive. As he swung for her, she could only dodge them instinctively, narrowly escaping for most of the swings.

The fight was a blur to the naked eye. But even the most inexperienced person could see that Chat Blanc had Ladybug on the defensive. She narrowly fell off the edge many times in her effort to step out of his reach.

"What's wrong, Ladybug?" Chat Blanc teased. "Afraid to get squashed?" He swung again and this time she wasn't so lucky. The staff connected with her arm and she cried out in pain.

"Chat!" she gasped, her numb arm dangling uselessly by her side, throbbing with pain.

"When are you going to acknowledge me for who I am?!" With every word, he swung his staff again and again, hitting Ladybug thrice more, once on her back as she was leaping over him to dodge him.

With a painful scream, she was flung to the opposite end of the building, pain exploding behind her. With a groan, she collapsed onto the dirty floor. Her legs folded awkwardly and were numb, refusing to respond to her brain's screams to move. He closed the distance between them slowly, deliberately. The pain in her arms were dull now, throbbing dully as she used them to push herself up to a sitting position. He was ten paces away now as she tried to scramble away awkwardly.

"Now, now," Chat Blanc tutted, extending his staff to close the distance between them. "No running." The end of the staff slammed into her palm, pinning it down. Ladybug let out another scream as she felt the bones squeak.

He was opposite her now and he leaned down, using his weight to push down on the staff, in turn pressing more weight on her hand. She grit her teeth, refusing to let out a scream now that he was this close. Her hand felt like it was doused in liquid flame and she felt the tears prick the backs of her eyes.

"Well," she spat. "Go on. Stop playing with your food."

A slow, manic grin spread across his face. "Oh, silly Ladybug," he twisted the staff and ground it even harder against her hand. She clenched her teeth harder but couldn't stop the scream escaping from behind them. "Don't you know that that's what cats do."

Ladybug breathed heavily, one tear escaping from each eye. "So finish it," she challenged. "Finish it and be done with it. You're not Chat Noir. You're not my friend anymore. I don't know you anymore." She was rambling and she knew it. But she couldn't stop; it hurts. Everything hurts. Her heart hurt so much. It was an ache she couldn't very well define. The pain snaked down to her belly and closed her throat, burning her throat and eyes. "It's better this way; getting hurt by an enemy instead of a stab in the back by a friend. Et tu, Brutus?" she spat viciously.

She saw his eyes widen and fill with hurt, clouding his eyes and for a moment, he looked like him. He looked like Chat. He looked like Adrien. She inhaled sharply. "Chat Noir?" she dared to croak.

He closed his eyes and turned his head away sharply. He took several deep breaths and swallowed several times. When he turned back to face her, his eyes were open. Now he wasn't him. He wasn't Chat. He wasn't Adrien. "Sorry," he sneered. "He's not here."

He leaned down closer, bearing more weight down his staff and her hand. She hissed and flinched. His face was inches from hers and he grinned. "Cataclysm," he whispered, bringing his free hand down.

A gasp involuntarily escaped her lips as she saw his hand come down in slow motion, time elongating and slowing down. Just as she thought of dodging, time snapped back into place and his hand came down.

It landed inches from her face, the sound of something dry slapping against the floor. Immediately, the floor began to darken and crumble. Chat Blanc leapt away from her just as the floor broke like ice and she fell, another gasp escaping her lips.

Instinctively, she threw her bag and it caught one of the metal spikes on the ceiling. She swung herself down gently and collapsed into the floor, cradling her sore hand, which she'd used to grasp the bag and swing herself down. She looked up at the new hole in the ceiling, just as Chat Blanc's head popped over the side.

"Still alive down there?" he called out mockingly. "If you are, I have a letter for you." He threw down something and it fluttered serenely around in lazy circles before it landed several feet away from her. With that, he withdrew and she heard the rustle of him leaping off, see him land on the roof of the building next to this one.

She lay down there for a long while, sore and hurt. There were tears as she sobbed. Tears for him, tears for her, tears for his father, more tears for him. It had never occurred to her before how much he would miss his mother, how much he would dislike his life. He never showed it before. And she never asked. She was as much to blame.

When she cried herself dry, she dragged herself to her feet and shuffled to where the thing he dropped landed. Groaning, she stooped down to pick it up. It was a pressed white butterfly with an address scrawled across its delicate wings.

When you close your earthly story,
Will you join them in their bliss?

Chapter Text

"Are you feeling okay?" Alya asked, concerned. She put a hand on Nino's shoulder.

Nino shivered, despite the weather being quite pleasant. His face was drawn and pale, lips cracked and dry. Even his eyes looked like a fish that has been left in the sun for too long, glazed and lifeless. "I'm fine," he mumbled tonelessly, automatically.

Alya stopped and crossed her arms. "Do you take me for a fool? You're not okay and you must think I'm blind to see otherwise. I might wear glasses, Nino, but I'm not blind."

For the first time since she got him out of his house, Nino cracked a small smile, his lips cracking slightly more. Alya blinked, keeping her face carefully neutral. "I'm sorry, Alya. I'm just worried about Adrien, you know? You watch all these things on the news about kids getting kidnapped and sold. Or worse." He shuddered violently and Alya placed a hand on his shoulder again to offer silent support. "Granted, you usually see it happen to women and children, but Adrien's a pretty boy. Who knows what could happen to him? I should've been there with him on Friday. I should've known-"

"And how could you have known?" Alya interjected sharply. "If you should have known, then we all should have known. It shouldn't be your fault alone. None of us knew. Stop blaming yourself for this; stop bearing it alone."

Nino stopped and looked at her bleakly. "But I should have known!" He exploded, burying his face in his hands. She just stared at him for a few seconds before gathering him in her arms, holding him close. "He's my friend!" He cried into her shoulder. "He's my best friend! What if he's dead? What if he's alone and scared? What if he's hurt?"

"Nino...." Alya murmured his name as she stroked his back reassuringly. She let him sob on her shoulders, locking her knees so that she could support more of his weight. She didn't know how long she held him that way, the moon as her witness. When she heard his sobs subside, she patted him. "You shouldn't beat yourself up for this. This isn't your fault. None of us could've known. All we can do now is pray and wait for news from him or his kidnappers."

Nino hiccoughed as he straightened himself. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his T-shirt. He took a long, slow inhale; his eyes closed as his face pointed to the sky. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared at the moon, just three quarters full this time. She saw one more tear escape the corner of his eye as he took another deep breath. "You're right," he croaked out finally, voice sharp and broken like ground glass. "You're right," he repeated, firmer this time. He took one more deep breath. "I feel a little bit better now. Thanks, Alya." He smiled at her wanly. "I should get back home."

"Me too." Alya smiled back at him, feeling better after seeing him look a little less bleak.

"I'll walk you home," he suggested. She nodded wordlessly, as they walked together in silent companionship. After a moment, he opened his mouth to say something when he tripped. With a loud yell, he landed on the ground with a loud thump, his hands thrown out to break his fall.

"Nino, are you okay?" Alya rushed to his side.

"Fine," he groaned, slapping his hands together and he patted himself. "What did I trip over...?" They looked behind them and Alya let out a gasp.

It was a pair of red heeled feet.

“Is that…” Nino gulped, his voice shaking.  He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Is that a dead body?”

Frowning, Alya tentatively walked forward and bent down.  For all her confidence, her hands trembled slightly when she put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. After all how often do two fifteen year olds come across a dead body? “She’s still warm,” she announced to Nino.

“That’s good, right?” he asked, kneeling down beside her.

Alya shrugged. “It might mean she’s still alive. Or, it just means she very recently died.” She picked a red-gloved hand and shook it slightly, where it flopped around lifelessly. “See? Still able to move; rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet.”

“Alya, don’t touch it!” Nino admonished. “Have some respect for the dead, come on.”

“I just wanted to confirm something,” she argued, eyes gleaming at her hunch. She moved forward, nearer to the woman’s head. “Now, let’s just see who this woman is-“

No sooner had the words left Alya's mouth when the “dead” woman let out a huge gasp, eyes flying open. Screaming, Nino fell backwards in his shock while Alya just gasped, dropping the arm like a hot potato.

“She’s alive!” Nino screamed in horror.

“She’s alive?” Alya gasped in shock. “Nino, will you calm down?” She admonished him this time, scowling at him. “Mademoiselle, are you okay?” she asked, gently lifting the woman’s head up and on her lap. The woman’s eyes slowly closed and she groaned.

That’s when the face hit the streetlights and the two of them gasped. “Ladybug!”

Ladybug’s eyes fluttered open and she stared at Alya's face blearily. “Alya,” she croaked, eyes fluttering again, like she was fighting to keep them open.

“Ladybug knows my name!” Alya squealed happily before shaking her head vigorously to focus on the task at hand. “I mean, are you okay, Ladybug?”

“Of course she isn’t, look at her!” Nino interjected, earning a glare from Alya. He coughed innocuously and scuffed his feet, wisely reminding himself to keep his mouth shut from now on.

“Just... hurt,” Ladybug croaked, struggling to pull herself to a sitting position. Alya instantly readied herself to catch her, should she fall. True enough, Ladybug’s arms shook and she collapsed, into Alya's ready arms.

“Take it slow,” Alya murmured into Ladybug's ear, helping the heroine to sit up.

“What happened to you?” Nino asked curiously, breaking his silence. “You don’t look so good.”

“Thanks, Nino,” Alya rolled her eyes at his insensitivity. He shrugged, holding his hands out and widening his eyes.

“Chat Blanc,” Ladybug mumbled, finally getting herself upright and she leaned against the grimy wall, hissing in pain. “We fought. I was taken by surprise.” Her sentences came out in staccato bursts.

“Chat Blanc?” Alya and Nino frowned at each other. “Not Chat Noir?”

All of a sudden, Ladybug hung her head, like a marionette with the strings cut. She remained that way for a while, long enough for Nino to look at Alya for help; she shrugged and shook her head as he shifted from one foot to another awkwardly. “No,” she whispered sadly. “Not Chat Noir.”

The two of them shared another look of confusion. “Whatever it is,” Alya said decisively, “we should get you somewhere safe. Come on,” she stood up and offered a hand. “Can you stand up? Never mind; Nino, help me with her.”

“Me?” he asked in shock. Alya sent another glare at him and he hung his head, defeated. “Fine, okay. Come on, my lady.” Nino bent down and gently helped her to her feet. She hissed and clutched a hand on her chest in pain. Not an external pain, but an internal one; at what Nino called her. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Nino quickly apologised. “Was I too rough?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled.

“Hey, I should be the one apologising,” he replied softly, retreating a step so she could steady herself against the wall.

She shook her head again. He glanced at Alya, who held up her hands helplessly.

“Come on,” Alya said quietly, draping one of Ladybug's hands over her shoulder. As she took the hand, Ladybug hissed and flinched. “This hand’s hurt, isn’t it?” she asked sympathetically. Ladybug just bit her bottom lip. Gentler this time, Alya took the hand and draped it over her shoulders. She nodded indicatively to Nino, who took the other hand and draped it carefully over his shoulders, bending forward slightly to bring himself lower and more to their height.

The closest “safe place” was the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery. The journey there was painfully slow; Alya and Nino could tell that Ladybug was broken, even though she didn’t show it. She didn’t even have to show it, her slumped shoulders and dragging limp were dead giveaways. Once there, Alya carefully shifted Ladybug’s weight to a more secure position before she knocked on the door. At this time of night, the bakery was closed.

“I hope the Dupain-Chengs are still awake,” Alya muttered, knocking again, more urgently this time.

“They are,” Ladybug mumbled, more to herself than anything.

Alya's ears perked up. “Oh? How do you know?” she asked, not unkindly.

Before an answer was warranted, the lights of the bakery flashed on, throwing them in bright orange light. All of them squinted against the sudden brightness. Thankfully, the huge shape of Mr Dupain threw them back into darkness. The lock on the bakery door clicked and it opened wide.

“Alya?” Mr Dupain asked quizzically as his petite wife came around him. Unconsciously, he put a hand on her shoulder protectively. “Nino?” His eyes bulged out just as his wife gasped. “Ladybug??”

“Er, good evening, Mr Dupain,” Alya began awkwardly.

“Good evening Mrs Dupain-Cheng!” Nino supplied helpfully.

“Good evening, Alya, Nino,” Mrs Dupain-Cheng smiled. Then her gaze drifted to Ladybug between the two and her eyes hardened. Wordlessly, she stepped aside and pulled her husband aside as well. “Come in, come in,” she invited. “Tom, help them.”

Her husband looked at her in confusion. She beseeched him silently. “Come, we’ll take her upstairs.”

Nodding, Mr Dupain stepped forward and gently took Ladybug into his capable hands. She flinched and curled into his arms. He just stared at her in surprise before clearing his throat and shifted her to a more comfortable position before taking her inside. It was then that Ladybug couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Her body ached, her father was carrying her, she was home. She slowly drifted into oblivion.

“What happened to her? How did you find her?” Her father’s voice drifted lazily into her dark and slow consciousness. It seems she wasn’t out for long. Ladybug reckoned she was on the couch and she felt a cool damp cloth across her forehead.

“I don’t know, I kind of tripped over her,” Nino admitted. “She was unconscious when we found her.”

“She looks terrible,” Mrs Dupain-Cheng commented, with a clink of Ladybug assumed was a teacup. Her mother had made tea for everyone.

“We thought she was dead,” Alya commented. “She kind of scared us with the sudden revival from death.”

“Poor child,” Mrs Dupain-Cheng murmured, her voice suddenly much closer. Ladybug could feel how close her mother was, her warmth radiating off of her. When she felt a hand on her cheek, she jumped. Gently, Mrs Dupain-Cheng took the cloth off her forehead and dipped it in a bucket and with the same gentleness wiped her face with the now warm cloth.

At that moment, Ladybug wanted to cry. She wanted her mother to stop, to stop caring for someone she doesn’t even know. To her mother, Ladybug is just another stranger off the street; like the many others that comes by the shop. Why should a stranger be treated with such kindness? Especially her, who tried to be the hero but couldn’t even save the ones closest to her. She’d allowed Nino to become Bubbler, Alix become Timebreaker, Alya become Lady WiFi, and so many countless others. And now, Chat Noir is Chat Blanc.

Just as she was about to wallow in her own self-pity, Mrs Dupain-Cheng stopped her ministrations and turned back to the group in the kitchen. “I’ll go and call Marinette,” she said as she got up and walked away.

That was when Ladybug's eyes flew open for real. ‘No,’ she screamed internally, but her mouth refused to move; the sound refused to travel further than her lips. ‘No!’

But it was too late, she could hear her mother frantically calling her name before she heard footsteps running down the stairs. “Have any of you seen Marinette?” she heard her mother’s voice, torn and frantic; unrecognisable.

“N-no,” Alya replied. “Last time I saw her was in school.”

“She’s missing!”

Two words. Two small words could carry such meaning. Two small words could carry such heavy weight. It was like someone lit a firecracker; chairs flew backwards and toppled over and everyone began talking at the same time.

“What do you mean missing?!” she heard her father yell. It was a proper yell; a mixture of disbelief and fear.

“She's not upstairs! Nor anywhere in the house!” Her mother sounded like she was in tears. She knew what they were thinking; she was the second kidnapping victim.

“Now Marinette's missing!” Nino howled in growing despair.

“Nino, hush! We should call the police! We should tell Inspector Clouseau!” Alya was trying to be heard over the din.

Just then, Mr Dupain barged into the living room, his eyes wild and his hair tousled. He was unrecognisable. The moment he noticed she was awake, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Where is my daughter?” he yelled at her, alarming her. “You know, don’t you!” She flinched as he shook her again as easily as if she were a ragdoll, spittle flew everywhere.

“Tom!” Mrs Dupain-Cheng tried to console her husband.

“You know, don’t you!”

“Tom, stop!”

You remember songs of heaven

Which you sang with childish voice,

As her father shook her, Ladybug felt her tears beginning to break the dam she was trying so hard to create. She felt their pain. She felt their panic. She was afraid too. Her head lolled uselessly as her father continued to shake her mercilessly.

“You know where she is, don’t you? Where is my daughter? Where is Marinette?”

The dam broke. Her tears flowed freely and she sobbed with abandon. “I’M SORRY!” Was that her voice? No, couldn’t be. This voice was too torn. This voice was too broken. This voice was unrecognisable. Her father dropped her then, seeming to have snapped out of it. She fell like a ragdoll, limbs splayed awkwardly; the pain barely registering. He stared at his hands in shock before turning his disbelieving gaze to her. Then Thomas Dupain fell to his knees and sobbed behind his massive hands. Her mother dropped down next to him, holding him close to her as her tears fell as well. And Ladybug sobbed with them. She didn’t know she had more tears to spare.

“I'm sorry,” she repeated over and over again, her voice getting hoarser and hoarser.

“It’s okay, Ladybug,” Sabine Dupain-Cheng tried to smooth over the situation. Her voice was broken, but it was soothing. “It is not your fault. I am sorry, for my husband’s sake.”

Ladybug shook her head again and again. “But he’s right,” she said thickly. “I do know where Marinette is.”

Such small words. On its own carried no meaning; no weight. But together, can shock the entire room. The entire room seemed to have been turned to stone, as if Medusa herself had waltzed in and turned her gaze on every one of them. Even her father seemed to have sobbed sobbing, watching her with a look of blatant hope through the bars of his fingers. It was almost disgusting. She wished he would look away; stop looking at her like he is now. Look at her like he was is daughter, the love of his life. Not like a pseudo-heroine traipsing in red tights.

“W-what do you mean?” Her mother broke the silence first, her voice small and hardly daring to hope. “Do you know where Marinette is?”

Do you love the hymns they taught you,

Or are songs of earth your choice?

Slowly, tiredly, she nodded.

“Where?”

“I'm tired of all this secrecy,” she repeated the words he had said to her a week ago. Has it only been a week? It felt like the nine lifetimes. Secrets get so much lighter when you share them. The silence that ensued was deafening. “Tikki, spots off.”

In the flash of blinding light, everyone turned away in shock. Some even let out small screams. Some gasped. But the reaction was nothing compared to when they all turned around and saw her, for the first time, out of costume. Really saw her.

Sometimes words can be used to carry weight; carry meaning. Sometimes, words are hardly needed. This was that time. There were gasps all around. Nino actually went to the sink and dry heaved, the excitement of the day finally taking a toll on him. Alya went ghostly white, so white that even her lips were pale and she crumpled to the floor, eyes wide and unblinking. Sabine immediately ran over and threw her arms around her daughter, squeezing so tightly that for the second that day, Marinette felt her bones squeak. But this time she didn’t mind it at all; she hugged her mother back in equal tightness and sobbed again into her mother’s slight shoulders. This time there were no tears. She was all teared out.

“I'm so sorry, Mama,” she sobbed over and over again. “I'm so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Marinette. It’s okay. I love you so much, ma petite. I love you.”

“Marinette.”

They both broke away and turned to look at him. The father. The husband. He dragged his feet to them, each footfall heavy and autonomous. He sagged to his knees opposite Marinette and placed his hands on her shoulders. Slowly, he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, these cheeks he had known since childhood; these cheeks that were black and blue with bruises. He broke. “Désolé," he choked. He slumped on the floor. “Pardonnez-moi,” he sobbed to the floor. "S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi!"

“Papa, please stop,” Marinette soothed him, trying to get him to look at her. “Papa, there is nothing to be sorry about. Please, stop. Papa, please, you’re hurting me.”

“I'm so sorry, ma petite Marinette! S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“But you didn’t,” she said firmly, her voice hard as she dropped the words like stones to convince him. He jerked his head up and stared at her in disbelief. “You did not hurt me,” she repeated, slowly this time. “You could never hurt me.”

“Truly?” She nodded with the fullest conviction. He immediately pulled his daughter in a bear hug. "S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi!” he sobbed again and again.

“Papa, please. There is nothing to forgive. Please forgive me for keeping this a secret. I didn’t want you to get hurt. If people knew, I just didn’t want them to know who I was. I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.”

“But yourself?” Her mother whispered, her words like ice to the room. “Are you not putting yourself in danger?” She put a hand on the bruises on her daughter’s cheeks, the ones on her hand and Marinette couldn’t stop herself from flinching and hissing in pain. “Are you not in pain?”

Marinette pulled her hand back slowly and rubbed it surreptitiously. She gave her mother what she hopped was a disarming smile and said placating, “But Mama, I'm Ladybug; lady magique et lady chance.”

Sabine didn’t even have time to react before Alya crossed the room until she faced her friend.  Her entire face was as pale as before, but with dark mottling around her neck and cheeks.  She drew out a hand behind her and with all her might, slapped her friend right across the cheek. “Is that all you have to say?!” Alya screamed, her voice breaking. “Lady magique et lady chance??” She began to cry; tears falling fast down her cheeks. “So what, when you're Ladybug you don’t get hurt? You don’t feel pain? Then what is that?” she gestured at all the bruises. “Tell me what those are?” Alya collapsed onto the floor, trying and failing to wipe away her tears. “I followed you; I adored you. I had a blog for you.”

Marinette kneeled opposite her friend. “Alya, I am so sorry I had to keep this secret from you. But please, please believe me when I say if I had found any other way, I would have used it. I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Believe me, I just wanted to protect you.”

“Stop it,” Alya mumbled through her fingers.

“What?” Marinette stiffened.

“Stop using your Ladybug voice on me.”

“I don’t have a Ladybug voice!” Marinette argued, aghast.

Alya chortled behind her hands. “There's the Marinette I know and love,” she said as she lowered her hands. “I'm sorry I hit you,” she mumbled to the floor. “I was just so angry.”

“Yeah, it was kind of painful,” Marinette tried to make light of it as she rubbed her stinging cheek. “Besides I kind of deserved it.” She looked away from her friend. “I'm sorry I didn’t tell you I was Ladybug.”

“It’s okay.” Alya let in a huge breath, wiped the remaining tears away and smiled at her friend. “I know what you're trying to do. You're my best friend, remember? I know you. And I forgive you.”

Just those four words and Marinette could feel the last of the weights slide off her shoulders. Overwhelmed, she threw herself at her best friend. “Thank you so much, Alya!” she cried into her friend’s shoulder and Alya just shook her head in amusement as she patted her friend’s head.

“Excuse me,” Nino raised a hand meekly. “Okay, now we know that Marinette is not kidnapped and is in fact Ladybug (which is really cool, you should let me film you in action one day); then where is Adrien?”

Marinette shifted uncomfortably. Nino noticed and turned to look at her fully. “You know, right?”

Chapter Text

His misery returned as soon as his eyes opened and he rolled over with a groan he pulled from deep inside of him; the groan of the deadly weary. What is this feeling? It was a mixture of feeling ill and alive, all at the same time. He felt like throwing up but he also felt like he could run forever. His legs trembled and his hands shook, sweat already beading on his forehead. He groaned again, rolling over.

“Sir, I know this is a bad time but it’s time to wake up.”

Suddenly, the curtains were yanked open and this time he groaned at the sunlight streaming into the room, searing his eyes and blinding him. He threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes. When he got used to the light, he slowly lowered his arm and blinked. “Another beautiful day,” he sighed. “Why can’t the day just stop mocking me? All this sunlight when I'm dead on the inside.”

“I know sir,” Nathalie smiled sympathetically at her place by the door. “But you've been away from the company for days. The Board is getting anxious. I know I shouldn’t and I'm really sorry for pushing you like this-”

“You're just doing your job, Nathalie.” He heaved himself to a sitting position and dragged himself to the side of the massive bed, a far too big a bed for just one person. “Now, leave me. I need to get ready.”

“Very well, sir.” Nathalie withdrew and soundlessly closed the room door.

Gabriel reached over for the framed picture he always kept on both the bedside tables, so her face would be the first thing he would see, no matter where he turned. “Forgive me, mon amour,” he whispered, his voice still gravelly from sleep. “I promised to keep him safe but he's gone and the only thing I can do is wait for the police to find him. I'm so sorry, mon amour.” He traced her face with his finger, her face that was far too much like their son. His heart thudded like he just ran for miles. “I'm so sorry. I have failed you.”

(Gabriel Agreste crumpled forward, bringing the picture of his wife as close to him as possible, shoulders heaving as he tried to keep his sobs as silent as possible.)

(Nathalie made it to the end of the corridor before she had to lean on the wall for support. But it was no use; her legs couldn't support her anymore. She slid to the floor, alone in the vast empty house.)

Where is Adrien?

“Where is Adrien?” Nino demanded. “Where is my friend?”

Marinette could only stare at him helplessly. Where do you even start when you’re asked that way? “I-” she began tentatively.

"It's not my secret to tell."

Tikki’s words floated up into her ears and Marinette flinched. It isn’t her secret to tell either. But would it be a transgression if she told now? Nino obviously doesn’t know; she could see that now. No one in this room knows. She looked at each and every one of them in turn. Her mother was too pale, her father looked ill. Alya looked at her steadily, egging her on in silence. Would he want them to know? They already know about her but would he want them to know? He entrusted his secret to her and he willingly agreed to keep her secret, even at the cost of his own.

“Well?” Nino persisted and she flinched again.

"It's not my secret to tell."

Marinette took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline rush threatening to consume her. She let out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “You know of all those monsters we see from time to time? Like Timebreaker? RogerCop? Chevalier Noir? Animan? These people are all possessed by these butterfly things called akuma. You don’t remember it but you were once possessed by them too. Nino, you were The Bubbler, with bubbles that could hold the weight of men. Alya, you were once Lady Wifi, with the power to stop a person in their tracks and to record and broadcast live whenever you wish.”

“What?” Alya and Nino gasped in unison.

“Are you telling me that we were both possessed by those evil butterfly things?” Alya spluttered angrily.

“And not even remember it?” Nino continued. “Why?”

“The butterflies, on their own, are neither evil nor dangerous,” Marinette began, holding up a finger to stem the tide of their interrogation.

“This is not really the time for technicalities, is it Marinette?” Alya snapped, eyebrow twitching.

“I know, I'm sorry. I just don’t think the butterflies should be the ones to blame.” Alya scoffed loudly, folding her arms to her chest as she rolled her eyes. Marinette ignored her friend; she had a right to be annoyed. Taking a deep breath, she blurted out in a rush, “The person who controls these akuma is someone called Hawkmoth.”

“Okay,” Nino said slowly. “And?”

Marinette flailed her arms slightly, overwhelmed by the underwhelming reactions. “Well, the butterflies are his,” she stumbled on her words. “The butterflies make the monsters,” she flailed some more, “and he controls them-“

“So what you're saying is,” Alya interjected, her voice halting as she spoke aloud her thoughts, “that Adrien is maybe possessed by these akuma things too, am I right?”

“Yes!” Marinette enthused, relieved that they’d come to that conclusion instead of having her explain further.

“So Adrien is kidnapped by this Hawkmoth dude and he’s turned into a monster, am I right?” Nino continued, brow furrowing as he rubbed his chin.

“Yes!”

“So why isn’t he rampaging through town? I mean, this Hawkmoth dude has always made monsters right? And he always had them rampaging through town. Why is Adrien any different?”

Because he already has Adrien’s Miraculous. Marinette was struck by the thought. Of course; why hadn’t that occurred to her before? And now he wants mine.

“You're right,” Alya murmured, her brow furrowing deeper as she was lost in thought. “That doesn’t make any sense. What makes Adrien any different?”

Before they could come to any conclusions, Marinette distracted them with a sigh that was too convincingly bone-weary. On cue, both Alya and Nino’s brows cleared as they looked at her with concern etched on their faces. “I don’t know,” Marinette lied. “I haven’t been able to figure that one out yet.” The lie tasted bitter in her mouth and Marinette had to fight the overwhelming urge to spit it out, feeling like it coloured her entire mouth black.

“So what you’re trying to say is that he has Adrien turned into a monster against his own will?” Nino said slowly, as though testing how it would sound with the words strung out like this.

“And we also don’t know where he is held,” Alya supplied. “Questions on questions...” she mused.

“Actually,” Marinette began tentatively. “I think I have an idea. Right after my fight with Chat Blanc just now, he passed me this.” She turned around and opened her tiny pink bag, ever-present by her hips, and took out a thin piece of wispy paper in the shape of a butterfly, folded carefully in half. She passed it to Alya cautiously.

Alya held it with the tips of her fingers and opened it, Nino pressing his head against hers to get a closer look. “It’s an address!”

“And it’s not too far away from here!” Nino gasped. “Are you sure this is where he's keeping Adrien?”

“It’s the only lead we have so far,” Alya countered.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“I think,” Sabine broke her silence, effectively bringing an air of solemnity as she stepped forward. “I think for now we let Marinette rest.”

“Maman, I'm fine,” Marinette reassured them quickly, a comforting smile already on her lips as she tried to get to her feet to prove her point. She clamped her teeth lightly down on her tongue to mask her pain. Mon dieu, she was sore. The bruises and cuts from her fight with Chat Blanc were aflame with pain, her adrenaline rush seeping away and making her acutely aware of the pain of her entire body. Her knees were shaking as her joints locked themselves in rebellion. Realising the futility of it all, she slowly lowered herself back onto the couch. “I’ll be fine,” she tried to reassure them weakly.

“No, you won’t,” her father argued, his voice hard with conviction. “Not for a while. Don’t push yourself too hard, ma petite.”

“But Adrien’s waiting for me! Who knows what Hawkmoth has done to him?”

“And who knows what he’ll do to you?” Thomas raised his voice, stunning her to silence. “He knows you’ll be coming for Adrien. And what do you think you’ll do when you're there? You think you can just waltz in? You need to think about this first, Marinette! And while you sit here and think, you can heal and rest. Please,” his voice quivered and broke. He cleared his throat. “Please just stay here. And recover. Give yourself at least two days.” He eyed her bruises and flinched. “Three days.”

“Three days?” Marinette gasped. “But what about Adrien-“

“If this Hawkmoth fellow wanted him dead, we’d already have the bodybag!”

His words stunned the entire room, Marinette most of all. The thought of Hawkmoth killing Adrien was something she hadn’t considered. Assuming he did get her Miraculous as well, he really wouldn’t have any further use for her. Or him, for that matter. He only needed Adrien because Adrien was Chat Noir, now turned Chat Blanc. For the first time, the thought of her own mortality struck her. She could die in this. She looked at her parents and she could see that they knew too. They knew about her own mortality as well.

She glanced at everyone’s face in turn, wondering if they realised her mortality as well. Alya just returned her gaze with eyes heavy with concern. Nino looked at her and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Listen,” he began “Adrien is my best friend in the world and believe me there is nothing more I want right now than to get him back. But your dad’s right. You're the only one who has the slightest chance of taking this bastard down and we need you at your best.”

Licking her lips, she heaved a heavy sigh. “All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “We need a plan.”

Adrien woke up with a pounding headache. He scrunched his eyes shut and groaned as he gingerly sat up, massaging his head as he did. Even slowly getting up made him feel nauseous, it was that kind of headache. Slowly, he opened his eyes and the room spun and pitched, as though he was in a boat; making the nausea ten times worse. He retched and dry heaved uncontrollably as the nausea took over, clamping a hand on his mouth desperately, cold sweat running down his temples.

Taking deep breaths, he tried to control his nausea. “Nathalie,” he croaked weakly. What was wrong with him? Why was he so sick? Was it something he ate? “Nathalie?”

He finally gathered himself enough to throw the sheets off of him. His room was too cold; he can’t stop shivering. Even standing was difficult as he crumpled to the floor feebly. “Nathalie?”

“She's not here.”

Adrien jolted at the sound of the deep voice, smooth as silk. He looked around wildly for the source.

“Who's there?” he demanded.

“You mean you don’t remember me? That's hurtful...”

It sounded like it reverberated in the very walls around him. Adrien swung his head around to look for a speaker or something. But there was nothing to be seen. For the first time, he got a good look at his surroundings. This wasn’t his room. It was hard to tell the size of it since it was shrouded in darkness, with only a small circle of white light on the ceiling covered in what appeared to be gauzy purple material as the sole light source. There was a bed and what looked to be a cheap sink and toilet bowl at the far corner. He got to his feet slowly, wobbling a little as he did.

“Show yourself!”

“As you wish,” the voice hummed behind him.

Adrien whirled to face whoever it was, ready to fight if need be. “Who are you?”

Through the shadows of the corner opposite the bed, a figure seemed to melt out of it easily, as though they themselves are made of the very shadows they stepped out of. Hawkmoth stood proudly a few paces opposite him, his hands in front of him curled over the head of his cane, a smirk on his chiselled jaw.

“You!” Adrien gasped, instinctively backing away.

“Oh, so you do know who I am,” Hawkmoth countered silkily, like the cat that got the cream. “And here I was rehearsing my lines.  Just for you and you completely stole my thunder. You wound me.”

“Hawkmoth.” The word left his lips in a jagged burst of hatred. “What do you want with me?”

The villain yawned. “Oh, nothing much, really. In all technicalities, I don’t actually need you anymore. Not when I already have my hands on this.”

He reached into his inner suit pocket and procured a tiny lump slightly bigger than the size of his fist. His grin widening, he opened his gloved hand and in his open hand sat Plagg.

“Plagg!” Adrien’s eyes immediately zoomed to his own hand, only to find that his ring was missing. He rubbed his finger to make sure and sure enough, his ring was not on his finger. He glared at Hawkmoth. “Give him back!”

“You're welcome to take him,” the man scoffed, holding the kwami out enticingly.

The boy quickly swiped for the kwami and held Plagg to his chest fearfully. “Plagg? Are you okay?”

The kwami remained impassive, his face and body slack and yielding.

“Come on, buddy. We have to get out of here.” He turned Plagg over in his hands and gasped in shock. Plagg’s face and mouth was as slack and yielding as the rest of his body but his eyes were what shocked him the most. Plagg’s normally green, slanted and expressive eyes were wide, blank and worst of all...purple.

“What did you do to him?” There it was again; the words that tumbled out of his mouth like pieces of jagged, brittle glass that were aimed to hurt. It almost shocked him, this bitterness he so easily mustered up. Who was this person, who could use words to hurt so easily like this? He almost couldn’t recognise his own voice, what more these words he managed to turn to shards of glass.

Hawkmoth only quirked an unimpressed eyebrow. “Did I hurt the little kitten?” he mocked smoothly. “Your kwami is still alive, don’t you worry your golden head. He is just under my control.” He held out his hand and Plagg wrenched himself free from Adrien's grasp. Alarmed, Adrien tried to grab him back but each time Plagg eluded him and floated serenely onto Hawkmoth’s open hand. “See? I have your Miraculous. Now I need your help to get the other one. The one held by your precious Ladybug.” He spat out the name like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Adrien crossed his arms and lifted a corner of his mouth crookedly in a manic grin. “I see you haven’t gotten her yet,” he said gleefully, almost giddy with relief and joy. That's good. Ladybug is still out there. He hasn’t taken her yet. “Why? I bet she outsmarted you, didn’t she? You haven’t been able to even figure out who she is, haven’t you-“

His frantic words were cut short when Hawkmoth moved one long step forward and effortlessly backhanded him across the face. Adrien’s entire head moved with the force of the slap and he could only blink at the wall. The shock numbed the pain for him, leaving his cheek oddly tingly; like when you move a limb that fell asleep. Slowly, he cupped his cheek and felt his mouth fill with liquid. Unable to figure out what to do with the liquid he was unwilling to swallow, he spat it out. Dark liquid landed with a splat on the floor, glistening in the poor light.

It took him a long time to figure out what the hell just happened as he stared at the dark spot on the floor. And when comprehension dawned, searing pain bloomed on his cheek like a white hot flame and he bit back a hiss. He finally lifted his head to fix Hawkmoth a glare so angry and defiant even he felt the heat of it.

“My Miraculous is only drawn to the darkest places of one’s heart! The dark emotions of envy, fear and hatred as my fuel! Think of that real hard as you wonder why I have you and not her!” Hawkmoth used the head of his cane to jab at Adrien’s chest, hard. “Besides, I will not have you questioning my methods,” Hawkmoth’s words slid like oil as he tucked his cane under his armpit so he could pull his loose glove back into place. “Now,” Hawkmoth bent forward and brought his face close to Adrien's. “You will help me procure that final Miraculous. So I can finally get out of this miserable town!”

Adrien only glared back. “If you think I'm going to help you, you're sorely mistaken,” he scoffed defiantly.

“How dreary. I expected this.” The villain straightened himself up again and held out Plagg. “Claws on,” he said slowly, clearly.

“No-” was all Adrien managed to blurt out as Plagg moved with sudden renewed vigour, transforming him and when it ended, he fell to the floor in a heap.

“What is your name?” Hawkmoth drawled lazily, disgust plain on his face as he viewed the heap on the floor.

“My name,” the voice that came out was hoarse, “is Chat Blanc.”

“Good. And who's your master?”

“My master,” Chat Blanc got himself to his feet unsteadily. “Is Hawkmoth.”

“So how are you feeling today, ma petite?”

Marinette smiled and held up her hand to show her father. “The bruises are gone, Papa.”

“Good.” Mr Dupain’s answer was curt as he kneaded the dough.

“Papa? I can help with that, you know. That did used to be my job,” Marinette said gently, putting a hand on her father’s elbow. “Besides, you're kneading it too hard,” she smiled to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

“No, no. You rest.”

“Papa...”

“Marinette, must you go through with this?” Thomas whirled around to look at his daughter. “The police have guns; you don’t have to be the only one to do this!”

“Papa...”

“Papa!”

Thomas Dupain flinched at the memory of Marinette, five years old and insisting that she’s tall enough to help around the bakery.

(‘There's two things I know for sure:

She was sent here from heaven and she's daddy's little girl.’)

“I just think that it’s not like you’re outnumbered. I mean, there are only Hawkmoth and you, right?”

“I know that, Papa,” Marinette tried to console him.

“Papa!”

In his mind’s eye again, he saw little Marinette again. This time she really was tall enough to help around in the bakery and they both wanted to surprise Sabine for her birthday. Marinette insisted that she try to make the cake herself. “I’ve seen you do it lots of times! I want to do it too!”

(‘For butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer;

sticking little white flowers all up in her hair;

"Walk beside the pony, Daddy, it's my first ride."

"I know the cake looks funny, Daddy, but I sure tried."’)

“Papa, I know how you feel about this but you have to know that guns will not help in this fight. And I really do not want anyone to get hurt because of me. I'm sorry, Papa.” Marinette rushed to her father, threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “I'm so sorry that you have to be put in this position. Especially because of me. Sometimes,” her voice hitched. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t Ladybug. Sometimes I wish I was still a little girl.”

Thomas Dupain stared at his little girl, tiny and fragile like a bird. “No,” he said, hugging her back. “Don't think that way, Petite Coccinelle.” He hooked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “I am so proud of you. To a point that I can’t even find the words for it. I'm proud of what you've done and what you have achieved. I am proud of you taking up responsibility like this. I am proud you are Ma Petite Coccinelle. But most of all, I am proud that you are my daughter, Marinette. And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he croaked as he hugged her again, tighter this time. “Do forgive an old man his worries.”

Marinette sniffled as she pulled away. “I'm proud of you too, Papa.”

“Now, go help Maman.”

“Okay, Papa.”

And for once, the voices of her past and the voices of now merged for Thomas as he watched his daughter skip away, a tiny Marinette appearing in his mind’s eye following close by. If only he didn’t have such a yawning feeling in his chest.

(‘Oh, with all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right

To deserve a hug every morning, And butterfly kisses at night.’)

Marinette ran up the stairs into the apartment, to find her mother sitting with a cup of tea in her shaking hands. “Marinette!” Sabine jumped, sniffling and trying to surreptitiously wipe at her eyes. “I thought you were helping out with your father!”

“He told me to help you,” Marinette said carefully, tactfully ignoring the redness of her mother’s swollen eyes.

“Well, I don’t have anything for you to help me with,” came the curt reply.

The tone would have deterred others but Marinette knew better. She went up to her mother and hugged her from behind, so she can’t see her mother’s face. Initially, there were some resistance and protests from Sabine; but that soon died down and she just took a deep breath.

“You come back to us, you hear?” was all she croaked out.

“Okay, Maman.” Marinette mumbled into Sabine’s shoulder blade. She dreaded hearing her mother telling her to promise it. Please don’t make me promise, she begged silently. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.

Her silent prayers seem to have somehow reached her mother because Sabine just took a deep breath that seemed to go on forever. “Okay,” she just said. “Now go upstairs. Your friends are waiting for you. Go, now. Before my bloated up crying face scars you for life.”

Marinette just squeezed her mother briefly and broke off, bounding up to her room, where she found Nino and Alya already waiting. “Hey,” she greeted them.

They just greeted back weakly, faces pale.

“What’s up?”

Nino looked at Alya uncertainly and Alya wrung her hands in turn, something highly unusual for the usually so confident young woman.  “Are you sure you're ready for this?”

“To be completely honest, no I'm not. I'm terrified. And I don’t think I can ever be ready for this. It’s not like it’s an exam or anything,” she laughed weakly to a silent audience. “Come on, guys. What’s wrong?”

“Aren't you aware of how dangerous this is??” Nino burst out, to be glared briefly by Alya.

“I do. But let’s face it; I'm in danger every time I'm Ladybug. This is just...slightly more dangerous.”

Alya rushed over and gave her best friend the tightest hug she could manage.

“Alya!” Marinette gasped in surprise. “You're kind of choking me here,” she joked.

“Shut up and let me have my moment,” Alya mumbled.

Trying to steady her breathing before she dissolved into a puddle of tears, Marinette hugged back in equal tightness.

“You come back, you hear?” Alya whispered, her voice breaking.

Not trusting herself to speak, Marinette just nodded.

Alya took a deep breath and abruptly let go, forcing a smile on her face. As though the brimming eyes were not there.

Marinette turned to Nino and smiled.

“Uh,” Nino bit his lip and shuffled his feet. “Good luck out there.” Quickly, he stuck out a hand.

She just stared at the outstretched hand. “Oh, you can’t be serious,” she teased.

“Yeah well-” Nino’s words died on his lips as Marinette barrelled into him. Slowly, with a nod from Alya, he hugged her back, arms wrapping around her shoulders. “You bring him back, okay?”

“Of course,” came the muffled reply.

“And when you do find him kick his ass for me, okay?’

She laughed as she broke away. “Oh, I'm sure I will.”

Nino smiled and headed to the skylight. “Ready?”

Marinette took a deep breath of her own. “As I’ll ever be.”

The three of them climbed out onto the roof and stood there, awkwardly facing the other.

“Remember the plan?” Alya asked, rubbing her hands and shivering a little when a breeze hit. Her best friend nodded. “Okay, now go.”

“Okay then. Tikki!” The pink kwami zoomed over, startling the other two. Neither of them could get used to her just zooming around like that. “Spots on!”

In a flash of bright light, Marinette transformed to Ladybug and with a nod to her two friends, she swung off the roof and away to her destination.

Alya and Nino just watched their friend, the last person they'd ever expected to be the heroine crime fighter, in awe.

“You know, I don’t think it has fully sunk in yet that Marinette is Ladybug,” Nino commented, breaking the awed silence.

“I ran a blog about her.” Alya whispered softly. “About my best friend.” She whistled in amazement. “You know, since we were possessed by those not-necessarily-evil butterflies of doom, I wonder if we ever looked as cool as Ladybug did swinging away like that,” she wondered.

“I bet you were. I mean, how cool can one guy be with a name like The Bubbler?” He grimaced. “Let me blow bubbles into your eyes to irritate them!”

“Don't you think Lady Wifi is too pretentious? I mean, am I even a lady?”

He ploughed through one meeting after another in a drunken haze. What did it matter? What did it all matter? All this pretence. This all amounted to shit without his son.

Gabriel threw himself onto his sleek, hard chair; wearily telling Nathalie to cancel him next four meetings. He can’t do this. He's so tired. Scratch that, he's so weary. Ever since the police announced that without a ransom note, they can’t call it a kidnapping; he can’t stay still. But at the same time he can’t get any sleep. He can feel his eyes, hot and itchy with tiredness.

Sighing, he opened a drawer and took out a framed photograph. It was a picture she took; and it was a perfect picture to him. His infant son was smiling at him, he was laughing at his wife’s face behind the camera as she complained at how complicated it was. He slumped forward, resting his forehead on the frame, his long fingers tracing Adrien’s smile.

Where is Adrien?

“Mr Agreste?” His phone buzzed. “There's someone here to see you.”

“Nathalie,” he replied wearily. “I told you to cancel all my meetings for this evening.”

“I know sir.” Nathalie gave a weighted pause. “But I think you're going to want to meet her.”

It’s one of those people, he thought tiredly. Ah well, the sooner he can meet her; the sooner she can leave and leave him in peace. “Very well. Send her in.”

The large wooden doors opened and Nathalie walked in. Closely followed by Ladybug.

Gabriel shot to his feet, stuffing the frame back in the drawer. “Ladybug!”

“Mr Agreste!” Ladybug jumped. “You know me?”

“Of course; how could I not? Nathalie, fetch us something to drink please.” Nathalie nodded, shocked at how animated he had become as compared to the whole of last week. “Please, sit.”

Gingerly, she perched herself at the very edge of the hard, minimalistic chair.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ladybug licked her lips. “Mr Agreste, I came here about your son.”

She might as well have spoken Arabic to him as the rush of blood to his ears drowned out any other words she might have spoken. “I'm sorry,” he said over the roaring in his ears, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. The door opened and Nathalie slid in with a tray. “You wanted to talk to me about Adrien?”

“Uh, yes.” Ladybug’s eyes flicked towards Nathalie uncertainly. Nathalie, in turn, coolly laid out the refreshments, her hands only slightly trembling.

“It’s okay. I trust her.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I understand that your son’s missing?”

“For a week now,” he affirmed. “The police have found no trace of him. It’s like he ran away or something. It’s the only reason it hasn’t been an official case. They said teens run away all the time. But I don’t believe it; I don’t believe my son would ever run away from his own problems, should he have any.” He was rambling now and he knew it. But he daren’t hope. Should he? “But, after a week has gone by with no ransom note... I can’t bear the thought.”

“Mr Agreste, I'm sorry to hear you like this. I know now that you must really love your son-”

“What do you mean you ‘know now’? What about before?” he demanded.

She flinched. “I've seen him around his school before and he sometimes says that he feels like you don’t care about him anymore. He says that he has to do better so that you may...love him like before.”

Gabriel breathed out through his nose as he leaned back, regarding Ladybug over his steepled fingers. “It’s true that I've been...neglecting him ever since his mother disappeared. It was selfish of me,” he let out a long sigh full of regret. “And childish. And I want to kick my past self for it. But whatever it is, he is my son. And I want to know if you have any news of him.”

“I do, actually. Mr Agreste, your son has been taken by a horrible man by the name of Hawkmoth.”

He didn’t know how, but suddenly he was on his feet and staring down at both the women. Clearing his throat, he straightened his tie and ran a hand over his dishevelled hair. “Pardon me,” he said coolly as he sat back down. “Do you have any other information?”

“I have an address-“

Again, he was on his feet. Clearing his throat, he began pacing. “And?”

“And I plan to storm the address. The only problem is, I expect the place to be heavily guarded-“

For the third time, he interrupted her. “Take my personal guard. Take all of them. I have about fifty men in my employ and I can muster more. Is that enough?”

“But sir.” This time Nathalie interrupted him. “Giving your entire force would leave you exposed!”

“I don’t care! I want my son back and if this is the price I must pay I will gladly pay it!” His voice thundered, which was very unlike the smooth and collected man they were both used to seeing. “I will come with you to storm the place,” he said surely, like he made up his mind.

As expected, Nathalie went off into a tirade of disagreement, which Gabriel staunchly talked over.

“Wait!” Ladybug cried out over the both of them, effectively silencing them. “Mr Agreste, I appreciate your concern but with all due respect, shouldn’t you be here? Shouldn’t Adrien have something to come home to?”

They both considered this as Gabriel slowly sat back down. “I see,” he murmured. “In that case, I suppose I really should stay. But Ladybug,” he looked at her steadily. “Thank you, for trying to bring my boy back like this.”

And for potentially risking your life on it.

It was unsaid, but it might as well have been said, judging by the way he stared at her so intently. She felt a chill run down her back but she forced a smile on to her lips and pushed out the last ounce of professionalism she could muster. “Of course, Mr Agreste.”

The rendezvous point wasn’t exactly what she expected it to be. She wasn’t sure why but she expected some kind of dark castle with a moat of some sort. But it just seemed like a plain, perfectly ordinary multi-storey building in town. Not for the first time, she wondered if she got the wrong address. She checked the fragile pressed butterfly for what seemed like the millionth time but here it was. It was the right address.

The private army supplied by Mr Agreste was awesome. Ten armoured vehicles rolled by and they all set up camp right outside the gates. Everyone in a five kilometre radius was evacuated for their own safety. That night, they set out their plans. This was where Alya came in. In the last couple of days since Ladybug’s hiatus, she had once again proven her resourcefulness by procuring detailed plans of the house. “Don't ask me how I got them,” she warned, casting a sly glance at Nino, who grinned back.

Ladybug left the main tent as Alya explained the plan to the head of the hired men when her father tapped her on the shoulder. “Papa?” she gasped in surprise. “Maman? What are you doing here?”

“We came to help you fight,” Thomas said resolutely, holding up his gloved hands. “Those kind men were good enough to give me my own Kevlar jacket.”

“Papa, this isn’t a boxing match; you could hurt yourself! You’ve stopped boxing years ago!”

“I've been training while you've been resting,” he argued.

“Several days training does not a boxer make.” Ladybug crossed her arms angrily.

“Marinette, do you think one just forgets an entire lifetime’s worth of training? This is like riding a bicycle; you don’t forget it!”

“Papa, you don’t know how to ride a bicycle,” Ladybug deadpanned.

Thomas blinked. “That is beside the point. Please, ma petite,” he begged, his tone serious again. “I can’t let you do this alone.”

“I'm not alone; I have almost a hundred men with actual guns behind me!”

“And none of them will protect you as I can. I can be your tank! Or your bodyguard! Please, Marinette. Please let me do this with you.”

Ladybug shifted from one foot to another as she chewed her lips thoughtfully. “Fine,” she conceded with a rush of air she didn’t realise she was holding in. “But please, be careful.”

As he father gleefully made his way to the front line she turned to her mother. “Please don’t tell me you insist on going to the front line as well.”

“Oh no, I'm staying at the back with Alya and Nino. I’ll be tending to the wounded. I was training to be a nurse before I married your father,” she explained. “Who do you think patched him up between fights?” Sabine added with a sly smile.

“I cannot believe...”

“You have to keep some mystery with you in your old age, dear.” Sabine winked and without any other prior warning, pulled Ladybug into a tight embrace. “We’re so proud of you,” she whispered fiercely. “And don’t forget, we will always have your back.”

Ladybug tried not to cry that night as she went to bed. Tomorrow will be the day and she hoped she delivers.

The next day was a confusing one. Ladybug woke up to a crowd of voices and when she went out of her tent, the camera flashes briefly blinded her as reporters screamed out their questions. Even more surprising was her father arguing with the police chief, of all people. Quickly, before it could come to blows and her father arrested, she stepped between them. “Is there anything wrong, sir?” she asked authoritatively, signalling for her father to back down.

“Mademoiselle,” the chief began gruffly. “You are holding an illegal rally in these streets. I would like to ask you to please disperse from the area.”

“I understand but I have strong evidence to believe that Adrien Agreste is being held against his will in that building,” she tried to explain, pointing to the building in question.

“Mademoiselle, Monsieur Agreste has been officially classified as a runaway on account of the lack of evidence that suggest otherwise!”

“I understand that but I know for a fact that he did not run away and that he is indeed held in that building!” Ladybug insisted.

“And so you brought your own army to storm the place,” the chief sneered, eyeing the armed men.

“Those men are under the employment of Gabriel Agreste, who shares my view in this matter. Monsieur Agreste really wants his son back,” she added heavily.

In a flash, the chief had his phone out and made a few calls, turning his back and walking away from Ladybug and Mr Dupain.

“That was very impressive,” Thomas smiled at his daughter proudly. She only returned the smile weakly. She had never been against the police before and that police chief rattled her a little.

The chief of the police stalked back to the two of them soon after, deep frown lines etched on either side of his mouth. “I have spoken to Monsieur Agreste, who has in turn spoken to the mayor,” he began, his tone displeased. “And we have come to the agreement that this little rally of yours have the mayor’s permission to continue, providing that you keep within the set perimeters. I will also station my men around the perimeter to ensure that your people remain within bounds. Good day to you, mademoiselle and monsieur, and I deeply,” he sneered the word out, “apologise for causing such a scene.”

*             *             *             *

The head of the unit gave a rousing speech to his men as they all stood tall and ready in a straight line outside the tightly closed gate like the riot police a few kilometres away. Thomas Dupain stood out front with the best of them, for once not looking like he was hulking over the others. As they all readied themselves, the gates suddenly unlocked with a muted click and rolled open, squeaking slightly.

Taking in a deep breath, Ladybug took that as her cue and stepped into the compound. As she walked in, she looked around the area. The compound wasn’t especially large but it was decently sized. She ignored the news helicopter as it roared overhead. Halfway in, she stopped dead at the sound of a silky voice.

“I can’t believe it. Ladybug. In my house. And I haven’t had the chance to clean up; I didn’t know I was receiving guests. And so many guests as well.” Hawkmoth appeared on a veranda several floors up, Chat Blanc close behind him.

“Hawkmoth,” she growled. “I can’t believe I finally have the pleasure of meeting you face to face! Now, bring Adrien Agreste out!”

Hawkmoth laughed. “I think it would be more appropriate to ask him if he wants to leave.”

“Stop your mind tricks on him! Don’t let this come to be a fight, Hawkmoth! I came prepared!” she gestured at the men waiting patiently outside.

“And you think I haven’t? You think I've been sitting around here knitting while you go into hiding? You're deeply mistaken, Mademoiselle Coccinelle!”

All of a sudden, the front double doors crashed open. Ladybug immediately took a defensive stance as she expected some booby trap to be triggered. When it didn’t, she slowly lowered her arms, staring at the open doors. The inside was predictably dark and in contrast to the bright sunlight, she could see little of what's inside. But then she saw it. Moving shadows.

Ladybug squinted against the sun to get a better look when the ground shook and the very air buzzed. Out from the doors came grotesque translucent human-moth hybrids created in an awful parody of what she was used to dealing with. Standing six feet tall with a vaguely humanoid body, its wings were a foot taller than it and spanned four feet or more. It had two feet with two normal shaped arms. But it had two smaller hands dangling by its sides and on closer inspection the Papillons were able to move those autonomously, similar to how we moved our own hands and arms.  Two by two they marched out of the double doors in an endless stream; taking halting, unsure steps as they arranged themselves in lines of five several feet away from her and she gulped. Her parents were right; stealth was not how this could be handled. If she’d gone with her original plan of sneaking in to rescue Adrien, she probably would’ve been overwhelmed by these creatures and her Miraculous would have been irrevocably taken.

“You probably know this but my Papillons would prefer if you would strike at night when they would be less sluggish but you probably didn’t want that, don’t you? So, what do you think, Ladybug? How do you like my new Grande Papillons?” He waved his arms in a flourish and the Papillons let out unnerving chitters.

“So, Ladybug,” Hawkmoth continued. “How would you like to do this? The easy way or the hard way? Personally I prefer the easy way, less mess that way; but in nature of being a good sport I will let you choose.”

In response, she threw out her yoyo to catch the balustrade of the veranda and pulled herself upwards into the air. As she swung, weightless, she aimed the heel of her feet to land on Hawkmoth’s smug face. Before she could even close half the distance however, one of the Papillons shot upwards and snatched her cleanly out of the air. It threw her away from the house and Ladybug pulled her arms towards her chest as she twisted her body around and braced herself for impact. She landed on the ground gracefully, her breath slightly knocked out of her. She glared at Hawkmoth as he clapped slowly.

“I regret to see your decision,” he said without a trace of regret in his tone. “Papillons, attack!”

Immediately, the Papillons shot upward and took to the skies. In retaliation, Thomas Dupain let out his own battle cry as he rushed forward to help his daughter, closely followed by the rest of the hired men, all shouting out their own battle cries.

Even early on, she could see that they were in a disadvantage as the Papillons outnumbered them at least two to one. But that didn’t stop the men as they bravely took aim and fired at them. Some of the men were plucked by the Papillons and in the sky they struggled to free themselves. One Papillon attempted to swoop down to pluck one man up but Thomas let out a roar and grabbed it, smashing it on the ground as hard as he can. The Papillon lay stunned and before it could recover, the large man was already on it, pummelling away. Another Papillon came to aid its brethren but Ladybug rushed forward to knock it aside and away from her father.

She faced the Papillon, holding her arms up as she whirled, landing a roundhouse kick to the Papillon’s face, eliciting a screech of pain. Twirling her yoyo, she used it as a shield to block off three other Papillons as they swooped down to swipe at her, sending another well-aimed kick to knee of the grounded Papillon, effectively shattering its kneecap. In that brief moment of her getting distracted by the grounded Papillon’s screaming, one Papillon barrelled through her defences and had her in a chokehold. Struggling to free herself, Ladybug kicked out and tucked her body inwards, using her downward momentum to bring it over her head and crashing forwards on to the ground. As soon as she shook one off another made a swipe at her and she dodged, bringing her body low to slam a foot on where she hoped its Achilles tendon would be and making it lose its balance. She was just about to get grabbed by another Papillon when he father rushed forward and had the six foot Papillon in a chokehold himself.

“Go!” he yelled out over the captive Papillon’s shrieking. “This is not your fight! I’ll handle this one here! Get that Hawkmoth!”

“But Papa-”

“Go!” Thomas roared. “I’ll catch up with you. I promise.” He smiled at his daughter, eyes shining with pride as she nodded and turned towards the gaping doors of the large house. “Now, ma petite papillon, it’s just you and me.”

As soon as she made her way indoors, she had to stand there for a while, blinking to get her eyes used to the dim light. She glanced around the room, taking it in. It was devoid of furniture but was littered by numerous unknown substances in humanoid shapes. It took her a while to realise that these were probably the Papillons’ cocoons. Whatever it was, it was everywhere; on the floor, covering the windows, on the stairs. Spotting the stairs Ladybug quickly made her way up, taking the steps two or sometimes even three at a time. One floor up, she slipped on the unknown substance and grasped the banisters to steady herself. This floor had corridors to rooms that she would wager held more Papillon cocoons. Steadying herself, she continued to make her way up the stairs.

Halfway up, she heard the chattering of another Papillon and before she could to make her way down to figure out a way around it, another Papillon appeared at the stairs behind her, its hand snaking out to grab her ankle. It yanked hard and sent her crashing down. Instinctively, she brought her hands straight out to break her fall, only grazing her chin on the step before her. Twisting around, she pulled her foot towards her abruptly, breaking the Papillon’s hold and just as quickly, she brought her heel down on its head, stunning it. The Papillon screeched and backed away, holding its head in its hands. Before Ladybug could scramble to her feet, the Papillon on the floor above her took both her wrists in one of its hands and pulled her to stand, bringing her face close to its own. Grimacing, she brought her head back and forward, though there was no discernable nose to be seen; but she was desperate. It didn’t stun the Papillon but it did shock it and in its shock, it let go of her and instinctively took a step back.

Seeing her chance, Ladybug leapt backwards on to the flat ground, facing the first Papillon with her yoyo at the ready. When it lunged for her, she threw her yoyo to its face and it stumbled backwards stupidly, making room for the second Papillon to make its way to her. She dodged underneath its outstretched hands, putting her own hands on its shoulders and kneed it in the ribs, extracting some sort of groan from it. As it slumped on the floor, she grabbed its head and brought her knees forcefully to its head again. This time, she managed to knock it out.

Before she could whirl around, the other Papillon socked her squarely in the middle of her back. She gasped in shock more than anything, her vision dotted with tiny spots. The ceiling was painted a dark red, she noted randomly and with the dark spots in her vision, it looked almost Ladybug-like. She almost chuckled at the ridiculousness of it before the Papillon brought her around to face it and landed a left hook on her cheek, the excess momentum sending her flying.

This is a different kind of weightlessness, she observed in that one elongated moment in time before she landed on the floor in a painful heap.

Get up, she urged herself as she lay there for a split second before springing to her feet and charging towards the Papillon, yoyo already twirling. Using the continuous circular motion of the yoyo, she threw it with almost deadly force at the grotesque creature. It dodged swiftly and charged at her as well, bringing all four of its hands forwards to grab her. Quickly, she twisted her yoyo around and used it as a shield to block its attacks. At the next break in its movements, she threw her yoyo at the chandelier and swung herself to the opposite side of the room to give her time to plan the next attack. As the Papillon looked up idiotically to figure out where she went, Ladybug saw her opening and took it; throwing her yoyo to wrap its cord around Papillon’s ankles. It whirled around to face her, further tangling its ankles in the cords. Pulling with all her might, she brought it down, the back of its head hitting the floor with a sickening crack.

*             *             *             *

Outside, the battle was still heated, with Papillons screeching and the sounds of guns shooting. Outside of the chaos, Sabine was doing her best to patch up any wounded mercenaries that limped in, helped by Alya and Nino as they ran around with first aid kits. Thankfully there were not many that were extremely injured, due to the lack of guns by the Papillons.

“Alya! Get me some clean bandages please! Nino! Come here and apply pressure here; I need to attend to the others. Monsieur, that is most definitely a broken arm. Let me just do what I can, but I recommend that you not go back out there.” Sabine was like a hummingbird, dashing from one place to another.

Alya wrapped the bandage firmly around one of the men’s leg as Nino cleaned the wound of another.

“A little help would be nice!” Nino grumbled to the riot police staring stonily at them. The police officer, as expected, did nothing at all.

“Forget it, kid,” the man whom Nino was patching up spoke up. “They’re only here to make sure we don’t make too big a mess. Now are you done?”

Gulping, Nino nodded and the man limped back into the fray.

“We need to help,” Alya huffed, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

“We are helping.”

“Yeah well I mean thinning out Papillon numbers.”

“Oh yeah, and what are you going to do? Shoot them with a gun?” Nino snorted.

“Very funny. I’d probably end up accidentally shoot you. But something to that effect...” she trailed off as she was lost on thought before her face brightened and her mouth dropped open. “Aha! Nino, do you still bring around your collection of lucky marbles?”

“SHH!” Nino hissed violently, before glaring at her and lowering his voice. “You promised you wouldn’t tell!”

“Nino, you can’t be serious! This is a war! Now give me those marbles!” Alya demanded, holding out her hand.

He only looked at her hand mournfully before sighing as he took off his bag. Reaching in, he took out a bag somewhat larger than the size of his fist. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Great! Thanks! Now, give me your slingshot, please.”

Pouting even harder, Nino passed her his slingshot.

“Am I ever glad you're still such a child,” Alya murmured, landing a quick kiss on his cheek before running out of the safety of the medicine camp, Nino calling out her name frantically. Loading it up with one marble, she took aim as best as she could and shot at the closest airborne Papillon. It missed the Papillon’s head by the smallest of inches.

“What are you doing to my marbles?” Nino shrieked, horrified as she loaded and shot another one, this time hitting a Papillon on the ankle. Alya smirked with satisfaction. “You’ll make me lose all of them!”

“Then I suggest you find me some other thing to use as ammo!” she laughed. “Besides, if you ask me, you lost your marbles long ago,” she grinned teasingly at him.

*             *             *             *

Gasping, Ladybug pulled her yoyo back to her and clipped it to her hips, doubling over with her hands on her knees as she tried to regain her breath. Cupping her cheek, she ran her tongue experimentally over her inner cheek and hissed when it grazed the torn place. Well, it could’ve been worse; she could’ve been eaten by it. Who knows?

Cautiously, she tiptoed up the stairs, peering up so she won’t be taken by surprise anymore. As an extra precaution, she went back downstairs to pick up a sizable piece of rubble and threw it upstairs. But nothing. Not a sound. Swiftly she made her way up the stairs up to the next floor.

The house wasn’t large enough for her to be properly lost and she remembered from Alya's plans where the veranda might be. Taking a deep breath and readying herself, she rounded the corridor to make her way to the veranda.

It was only pure luck that helped her dodge the staff that zoomed out of a concealed corner. Twirling around, she faced Chat N- Chat Blanc with regret.

“Hello, Ladybug.”

“Chat,” she said, her tone filled with dread. Knowing where this was going, she shifted her stance.

“I must say, you healed well.” Chat Blanc looked down his staff at her, a malicious grin on his lips. “I would’ve thought it would take you at least a week to recover.”

“You wish that would happen, wouldn’t you?”

“Naturally. Oh well; lesson learned. Now I know not to underestimate you.” Quick as a flash, he raised his staff up high and swung it down.

Expecting this, Ladybug already twirled her yoyo around, bringing her shield above her head as the staff hit it with a metallic clang. “You're not the only one able to take lessons, little kitty,” she smirked, using her shield to block the staff to the right as she charged at Chat on his left. The staff landed with a clatter on the opposite side of the room.

He narrowly avoided her blow and snaked a hand out to land a blow of his own before she dodged and twisted away. In a red blur, Ladybug threw her yoyo at him and he quickly crossed his arms over his chest to block it, cart-wheeling to pick up his staff as he did. Seeing where he was going, she threw her yoyo to wrap around his ankle, pulling him to her.

Chat landed sprawled on the floor but quickly regained his footing, facing her with his arms up and ready. “What? Can’t take me without your precious yoyo? Come on, I'm without my staff; let’s make this a fair fight, Ladybug,” he goaded.

Staring him down, she grudgingly agreed. “Fine. Let’s make this a fair fight.” Hooking her yoyo to her hip, she widened her stance and faced Chat Blanc. With his eyes burning through her, Ladybug tried to forget the person behind the mask. She tried to forget the person underneath the akuma. She can’t afford to get distracted by the past. She tried to forget. For her own sake and his. If she could just get to Hawkmoth, she could free him from this. She must knock him out. For her sake and his own. At that moment, she fervently hopes she would have the courage to do just that when the time comes.

They circled each other, waiting for the first blow. She stared into his eyes, green as before. Now that she knew who he was, it made everything so much more painful. It put so much more on the line. “You don’t have to do this, Chat,” she tried. “This is not you. You won’t do this.”

“See Ladybug, that's where you're wrong. Hawkmoth doesn’t conjure up negative feelings, he amplifies them. You might not think this is me, but I know it is. This is the me no one wanted, the me no one would accept.”

“No, it’s not,” she insisted. “Chat Noir wa- is a good person. He's stupid and annoying but he is a good person. You say this is a part of you and so what? No one is perfect. Everyone has these feelings. But the Chat Noir I know, the Chat Noir I love, would fight these feelings to the death because I know that he has more good in his heart than all the negative feelings combined.”

For a split second, she saw it. His eyes lost their hardness and his brow furrowed in confusion.  “My lady?” his voice broke out faintly as his white jumpsuit flickered. Black, then white. “My lady, help!” White, then black. Chat clutched his head in his hands and squeezed. “Make it stop,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “Make the whispering stop.”

“Chat!” Ladybug raced by his side.

“What is your name?” She heard that silky voice thunder. Whirling around, she tried to find the source of the voice, which sounded like it was coming from all around them, all at once.

“My name,” Chat struggled, “is Chat Noi-” Before he could finish his sentence he let out a bloodcurdling scream. The black turned to white.

“What is your name?”

“My name is Chat Blanc.”

“And who is your master?”

“My master,” Chat turned to look at her and she saw the hardness return to his green eyes. “Is Hawkmoth!” Lashing out, he landed a right jab at her torso and she cried out in pain. Not giving her time to recover, Chat Blanc was relentless. Advancing on her, he gave little room for her to manoeuvre and even less room to defend herself.

Ladybug took blow after blow, the star-bursts of pain blurring into one and even fading away as one thought screamed in her mind. She must get away. She must defend herself. Lashing out blindly, she caught Chat Blanc by surprise with a wild upper hook that caught him square under the jaw. While not particularly strong, it was still enough to stun him as he backed away.

That one small step back was enough for her to leap backwards and quickly lash out with a snap kick to the midriff. Unfortunately, Chat Blanc managed to block the brunt of the attack as he twisted to the side. As he twisted she saw an opening and took it with a strong kick.

Her kick landed right across his behind, sending a surprised Chat Blanc launching forward. He turned to her, eyes blazing in anger. “Really?” he sneered. “Did you really just literally kick my ass?”

“A request from a friend,” she smirked. Quickly, she tried to follow through with a side kick to the area right under his hip that managed to actually hit him again, stunning him as he backed away quickly, hissing at her in anger.

Ladybug didn’t leave him an opening as she advanced mercilessly with a series of kicks and twirls. This time she had Chat Blanc on the defensive for once as he desperately blocked one kick after another as he strafed around the room. Without her realising it, he was right next to his staff, kicking it up and catching it in one hand. He swung it to her and landed a hard blow on her calf.

She hissed as she backed off, clutching her numbing leg. “What happened to a fair fight?”

“Sorry, I guess it was a force of habit.”

“Chat Noir never fought unfairly,” she spat.

“Well this is Chat Blanc. Something you might as well get used to, Ladybug.” Grinning, he raised his staff over his shoulder, eyes glinting with malice.

Still clutching her leg, Ladybug focused the last dregs of her energy to her legs so she could leap away in time from the blow. Keeping her eyes on the staff, she knew she had to time it perfectly.

But it turns out she didn’t have to. Before she could dodge, her father jumped in front of her and blocked the hit for her.

“Papa!”

“Sorry, I was late; I got a bit held up!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d be your bodyguard, didn’t I?  So now I'm here; to guard your body!” He held up his arms again as another blow came down. “I know you're probably sick of hearing this but,” he grunted as one of the blows hit him on the side. “Go after Hawkmoth; I have this fight!”

She considered arguing but knew her father spoke the truth. Shooting him one last look as she watched him dodge, block and try to land blows that was also dodged and blocked, she could only gather the words, “Don't hurt him!”

Thomas snorted. “Will try!”

Continuing up the stairs, she was met by no other resistance and assumed that there would probably be none for the rest of the way to Hawkmoth. Finally, she reached the roof. Standing at the edge, watching the battle still raging on; Hawkmoth stood with his face impassive.

“Give it up, Hawkmoth!” Ladybug called out. “You're surrounded!”

“If by surrounded you mean you just covered the only exit off this roof, I'm not that afraid,” the villain drawled as he turned to face her. “Now Mademoiselle Coccinelle, it is not too late for this all to end. I have the power to end my Papillons and you have the power to save your precious Adrien Agreste.”

Ladybug felt a small spike of fear run down her spine at the mention of Adrien's name. So he knows. Of course, she should have expected it. After using his Cataclysm on her, Chat couldn’t be expected to hold on to his transformation. But still, the idea of Hawkmoth knowing was terrifying. Now he has more power than ever. Now that he knows, he could be an even bigger danger to Adrien and her by extension.

Seeing her fear reflected plainly on her face, Hawkmoth’s lips curled into an evil smile. “Oh, yes. I know. After all, I did have him as my guest for a week. And might I say, he has been the most entertaining of guests.”

Blind with anger, Ladybug threw her yoyo at him with such fierce speed that it looked like a tiny red bullet. Anticipating this, Hawkmoth used his staff almost like a baseball bat, hitting the yoyo with his own ferocity and it hit the staff with a deafening crack. Watching her face carefully, he smiled wider. “Ah, Ma Petite Coccinelle, you have such anger,” he put a hand on his inner pockets and pulled out a small butterfly, which he cupped briefly before releasing it to her.

Gasping, she realised what it was and strafed to the right. Quickly she used her yoyo to capture it.

“So much anger,” he cooed. “So that is how you’ve managed to defeat me for so long.” Hawkmoth eyed her yoyo with new hunger in his eyes. “So Chat Noir is the brawn and you are the brains.”

“Don't simplify him that way!” Ladybug screamed as she threw her yoyo at him recklessly, tears falling down her cheeks. She can’t help it; there was such an ache in her chest. Like a hole was formed and there was something clawing at her from within, pulling her in with it.

Hawkmoth easily batted it away, such as before. “Oh,” he hummed as he made his way to her. She tried to move, but her legs were frozen and stiff, oblivious to her brain’s screams to move. Hawkmoth was so tall as he bent forward slightly, taking her face in his hand. He peered into her eyes solemnly. “Such guilt," he breathed. “Such pain. Such fear. So I was right; you are the brains. Chat Noir at least fought hard; your fighting is pitiful at best. Granted, you're not on your best right now. You fear me,” he repeated in wonder, staring into her wide eyes, watching her pupils dilate even more. “Your emotions are strong, stronger even than Chat Noir’s. He never feared me. Oh, but was he full of anger. You complement each other very well. Now I wonder if you’ll be more useful to me as my chevaliers instead of me just taking your Miraculous. You have chemistry about you, such connection. What do you say, Ma Petite Coccinelle? Would you like to be akumatised? You can be my China Doll.”

Ladybug felt like she was being drowned in those cold steel eyes, staring deep into her own, probing her innermost feelings. Yes, she was afraid; so deathly afraid. But he was wrong; she wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid for those she loved. In her mind’s eye, she saw her parents smiling bravely as she left the bakery two days ago. She saw Alya looking at her with such hurt and then Alya giving the tightest hug. She saw Nino telling her to kick Adrien’s ass. She saw her friends, she saw her family. All these people that loved her. All these people that counted on her to come home.

She saw Adrien. Saw him as she remembered him; golden and happy before the perversion Hawkmoth created. She saw Adrien with the love struck eyes of Marinette and then she saw Chat Noir with the eyes of Ladybug and she knew. They were both one and the same. She saw the way Adrien smiled at her when their eyes met in class and saw the way Chat grinned at her with every shared joke. Saw the way Adrien’s tongue would poke out a little when he was really concentrating and the way Chat would stare at her with those deep green eyes when he thought she didn’t notice. Those eyes. Those beautiful green eyes have always stayed the same. She didn’t know why it took her so long to digest this but now that she did she can’t see it any other way.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

With that realisation, she slapped Hawkmoth’s hand away from her and stomped on his foot with all her might, causing him to curse loudly. While he was distracted, she back-flipped away from him and threw her yoyo at him, hitting him in the face. Hawkmoth held up an arm to block it but was a fraction of a second too late as the yoyo hit its mark and collided with his jaw, effectively smashing it with the force of a baseball pitched by professionals. He cursed again as he instinctively took a few steps back and swung his cane like a fencing foil. Twirling her yoyo, she generated a force field and blocked the blow, rushing forward as she did so she could land another blow. Swinging her leg around for a roundhouse kick, she was caught by surprise when he neatly caught her foot, stiffening his arms to absorb the impact. He gave a manic grin as his gloved hands tightened around her ankle and he swept her off her feet, swung her around and off side of the building.

Her breath left her in a rush as she realised she was falling and Ladybug threw her yoyo at a balustrade of one of the balconies and tucked her body inwards so she could swing the arc faster and she landed on the roof again. “Ready to get rid of me already?” she taunted. “I thought you wanted my Miraculous.”

“I can get it off you whether you're dead or alive!” Hawkmoth spat venomously as his voice muffled around his broken jaw.

“Are you sure? If I'm dead what makes you so sure you can even retrieve my Miraculous?”

Instead of answering her, he rushed at her, his cane out at the ready.

*             *             *             *

Thomas Dupain held up his arms to block another blow from Chat Blanc. “You're good, kid!” he enthused, grinning wildly. “I haven’t had a good fight in almost 20 years!” He aimed for another right jab and Chat twisted away.

“Then it makes it even worse for me, to be beaten by an old man!”

“Ah but this old man is, well, old. So such taunting will get you nowhere, chaton.” He grunted as he blocked a particularly heavy blow. Chat Blanc was right; he is old. So he cannot do those fancy blocks and twirls the white cat was so adept at. What he is good at, though, is fighting. He had plenty of experience on that, so he knows how to take hits and how to deliver them. This kid is good, but he’s confident that he’s experienced enough.

Chat Blanc physically recoiled at the name, as though he was slapped. Thomas took this opening and landed a blow so hard it lifted his opponent off his feet and he flew back about a foot or two.

Chat Blanc landed on the ground in a heavy heap.

Thomas stared at his felled opponent, breathing hard. “Hey kid,” he called out when Chat Blanc remained motionless on the ground, his back facing him. “Kid, are you okay?” Thomas made his way forward and crouched down, wincing at the pain in his tired body. “I didn’t hit you that hard, didn’t I?”

He placed a hand on Chat’s white shoulder and immediately Chat Blanc whirled around with his baton and smashed Thomas’ knee. Unfortunately, he misjudged the height and instead ended up hitting slightly above it. Yowling, Thomas fell to his knees and glared at the grinning feline.

“You’re old, but you still fell for the oldest trick in the book,” he gloated. “Now, you are a good fighter yourself but unfortunately, this is not my fight. Bye.”

*             *             *             *

On the roof, Hawkmoth and Ladybug faced each other, each panting heavily and sporting different wounds. He cracked his sore neck and winced at the pain of his broken jaw as she quickly swiped away the blood trickling into her eye.

“Tired, Ladybug?” Hawkmoth called out tauntingly. “After all, I am not your first fight. You had to fight your way to me and I am truly flattered. But you see, I’m still fresh while you look a little worse for wear.”

“You wish that I’m tired don’t you?” she taunted right back. “After all, you’re no spring chicken.”

“Clever.” He spat out before charging at her. Ladybug sprang upwards and leapt over him, using his shoulders for added momentum, pushing him backwards. As he stumbled, she whirled around and used her yoyo to snag his cane as he tried to regain his balance enough to at least land a blow on her. Her yoyo wrapped around the cane and she pulled, causing Hawkmoth to stumble again at being pulled into the opposite direction. He fell backwards and landed on his back, his head cracking on the ground audibly.

Seizing her chance, she leapt over him and kneeled over him, her knees on either of his sides. She pulled her arm back and aimed for his jaw. Seeing as his jaw was already broken she could do more damage there, even if punching wasn’t her strong suit.

Before she could land the blow Hawkmoth dodged in the last possible second, craning his head away from her fist. Unable to stop herself in time, she could only watch helplessly as her hand whizzed past his head, grazing him by the smallest of fractions before smashing into the concrete floor.

Ladybug screamed as pain bloomed like white-hot flowers from her knuckles. She cradled her hand, the gloves split and her knuckles bleeding.

Using her pain to his advantage, he threw her off him and this time he loomed over her, holding his cane in both hands across her neck and bore down with his entire weight on her. Quickly, her hands shot out to block it and the cane landed on the heels of her palms, causing her to scream again as her hurt hand bloomed with fresh pain.

“I don’t really need you, you know,” he whispered silkily over her as he deliberately put more weight on the cane.

Gasping, she locked her joints, keeping him an arm’s length away from her. Her eyes stared at her split knuckles, the blood dripping sluggishly to land on her temple. One drop landed on the outer corner of her eye and she blinked rapidly.

“Now that I think of it, I really don’t need you,” he continued in amusement, watching the blood drip with her. “Which means that, right now, I want nothing more than to crush your scrawny neck with my cane.” He pushed down some more and she gasped again as the blood flowed harder. Her arms shook from the exertion of keeping him off her. “What do you say to that, ma petite cocchinelle?”

Casting her eyes wildly for a possible escape, she saw that she was probably a couple of metres away from the edge of the building. Desperately, she tried to figure out a way to twist him over the edge. Unfortunately the edge was at her left side, which means she would have to shove him off with her right hand, the one that’s injured. Seeing at how that fist trembled, she highly doubted she could muster enough strength for that desperate move.

Again faced with her own mortality, Ladybug was almost consumed by fear. “You don’t get to call me that,” she spat at him with the last dredges of her anger.

“Oh?” Hawkmoth chuckled silkily and doubled the force on the cane.

Her trembling hand couldn’t hold up the defence as her joints unlocked themselves, bringing her elbows crashing onto the ground. She let out a small scream of surprise as his face zoomed ever closer.

“Oh, give it up already,” he taunted smoothly, his teeth glowing stark white against the ugly purple of his bruised jaw. He pressed down over her some more.

Ladybug could only stare fearfully at her trembling hands, ready to give up at any moment. She stared at him, wide-eyed in fear.

“The smell of your fear,” Hawkmoth dipped his head down to the crook where her neck met her shoulder and took a deep breath, which he let out in a loud sigh. “Is heady. Such an intoxicating smell.”

Suddenly his head jerked to the left and he yelled out in pain, surprising her. Something small and round landed on the floor and rolled away from them. She turned to look at it. Is that...a marble?

“Get off my friend!” Alya roared as she was carried around by a particularly large moth-human hybrid. Reaching into her front pocket she shot another marble at him. This one wasn’t as successful as the previous one but it hit the back of his head regardless. Out of marbles, she twisted around and slammed the butt of her slingshot at the moth’s foot. It screeched and let go of one of her shoulders. Screaming, the plucky girl clutched at the other foot. Gunshots cracked underneath her and the moth screeched again as bullets ripped its wings apart. It descended and crashed into a tree, taking Alya with it.

Seeing her chance, she brought her knees to her chest and kicked out, shoving him off her. They tussled around for a while before she managed to roll over him and held his cane across his neck, their roles reversed.

Before she could say anything, the door to the roof crashed open and Chat Blanc rushed it, his face swollen. “Master!”

“Chat Blanc!” Hawkmoth cried out. “Get Ladybug!”

Turning his attention to her, Chat’s eyes narrowed with hatred as he threw his hand up. “Cataclysm!”

Ladybug spied her father huffing up the stairs behind Chat. “Don’t let him touch you!” she warned him.

Before he could turn around, Thomas leapt forward and tackled Chat to the ground. Both of them landed with a loud thud and with breaths knocked out of them.

“No!” Chat yelled out and slapped his hand on the ground.

“Adrien no!” Ladybug screeched.

Her scream reverberated inside him, cutting through the noxious purple fog that Hawkmoth inserted into him and drawing him from deep inside him. She said his name. So she knew. And she was okay with it. She didn’t hate him. Using her voice as his tether, Adrien pulled away from the thick purple fog as it cloyed and clung to him desperately. “Ladybug!” he screamed, hoping it would reach his mouth.

“Ladybug?” Chat stammered, his suit flickering again. He looked down at his hand as the ground darkened and hairline cracks bloomed from under his fingers. “No!” he pulled his hand back abruptly, as though he’d touched a live wire.

Ladybug watched fearfully as the cracks spread around her and the ground broke into a large fissure right through the middle of Hawkmoth. For once, she saw his composure slip and he struggled to push her off.

“Ladybug!” Chat Noir called out as he scrambled to his feet, Thomas Dupain doing the same. They both had identical looks of worry and fear.

“No!” she threw out a hand to stop them, the ground cracking a little more. “Stay back!” She glared at them with intense heat in her eyes until they inched their way backwards to the door before her glare melted into a wide grin as she turned back to her nemesis.

With a mighty grunt, she wrenched Hawkmoth’s cane from out of his grip, her hand screaming with pain again.

“What are you doing?” the villain screeched as he tried to grab the cane back from her. The ground cracked alarmingly again.

“Careful, Hawkmoth, you're making things worse.” This time it was Ladybug who had a silky tone as she leaned forward and brought her face close to his. “I'm going to make sure this all ends, one way or another.”

Hawkmoth saw the steely glint of determination in her blue eyes, making them look like chips of ice. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“You have hurt me, my friends and my family for too long, Hawkmoth,” she whispered in his ear.

“Your...family?” he turned to where the other two men stood, Chat Noir’s suit now turned black again. His gaze turned to the huge bulk of Thomas Dupain and something clicked in his mind. “No...” he whispered.

“Yes,” she smirked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am the baker’s daughter.”

“No!”

Ladybug cast a look at Chat Noir and her father for the last time. “I'm sorry,” she choked back a sob as she smiled at them. Turning back to Hawkmoth, who seemed to have frozen in fear as the cracks turned into fissures all around them. “Bye bye, petite Papillon.” She raised the cane up high over her head.

It was at that moment that it clicked to him what his daughter was about to do. “No,” he whispered softly under his breath. “Please, no.” Before he could even register it, he was crying; the tears flowing fast and hot down his cheeks, dripping off his chin.

Scrunching her eyes tight and turning her face away from her father, Ladybug slammed the butt of the cane into the largest fissure, the one that ran right through underneath Hawkmoth.

 “NO!” his scream tore at his throat so painfully he thought it bled as he made to lunge at her.

(‘There's two things I know for sure:

She was sent here from heaven and she's daddy's little girl.’)

Chat Noir’s hand shot out and he grabbed the distraught father’s arm. Thomas promptly turned around and landed a heavy punch on Chat’s side. Grunting, Chat collapsed and Thomas took one step forward when Ladybug finally turned to face him, her eyes pinning him to the spot.

He watched those blue eyes watching him with restrained tears; saw the smile that forced itself to be seen. “I love you,” she said as she wrenched the cane to the side, breaking the cane and effectively dislodging a large piece of the floor.

Like the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, the entire floor broke in a deafening crack and crumbled. Instinctively, Thomas leapt backwards to the doorway. He watched the fissure spread and stop about five metres away from him. As a result, the floor only tilted underneath him instead of collapsing completely. He tumbled onto the floor below them, followed by Chat Noir, who slid around lifelessly. Thomas reached forward and grabbed the boy, wrapping his large arm around his midriff and pulling him away into a more stable part of the building.

The floor cracked and Ladybug gasped at the sudden brief feeling of weightlessness before she plunged. She looked down and saw Hawkmoth gnashing at her, eyes flashing with anger. Feeling a rush of purpose flow through her, she clamped her legs around his hips and threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in to her and clutching him against her. If she was going down, she would be damned if she didn’t finish this once and for all. Ladybug closed her eyes and clung on despite his thrashing.

*             *             *             *

“Alya that was completely irresponsible!” Sabine was scolding as Nino climbed up the tree to get her down. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

“I know, I'm sorry, Mrs Dupain-Cheng,” Alya called down as she gingerly lowered herself to the branch beneath her and hissed. Man, was she sore. How could Marinette stand doing this on an almost daily basis? She’d only done one impossible task and she already wanted her bed.

“Careful now; I got you,” Nino said as he caught her when she jumped down from the last branch.

“Thanks. And sorry, I seem to have lost your marbles.”

He stayed silent as he picked out some leaves stuck in her wild hair. “That's okay,” he said finally. “I reckon I found myself a new lucky charm.”

Alya turned around to face him, mouth open slightly in shock. She opened her mouth wider to say something when she heard a deafening crack that sounded not unlike thunder coming from the building. They all turned around to see what happened.

When one side of the building collapsed inwards like a deflated balloon, she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands as Mrs Dupain-Cheng screamed, tearing away from them as she ran forwards as fast as her legs could carry her.

“Mrs Dupain-Cheng!” Alya called out and sprinted over to catch her, pulling the petite woman away.

“Let me go!” Sabine screeched desperately, her eyes on the collapsing building.

Nino came forward and enveloped them both in his scrawny embrace, his back to the building as he tried to protect them against the dust cloud that sprang up from the bottom of the crumbling building and engulfed them all in a dense cloud that stole their breaths away.

When the dust settled, they both stood up and gaped at the collapsed building, mouths dropping open.

Stumbling forward, Sabine walked like she was in a nightmare and her feet were tied with the very bricks she saw before her. When she reached the building, she fell to her knees and scrabbled against the rubble. She felt nothing but an odd feeling of desperation and fear. These feelings tasted like a bad cocktail in her mouth and she hacked, spitting out whatever was in her mouth, half-expecting it to look dark against the rubble. She clawed and scrabbled, her nails breaking and some pulled straight off as they scratched against the rough surface. But still she felt nothing but the nasty cocktail in her mouth. She didn’t realise Alya and Nino on either side of her, scrabbling and clawing with her. When she came to her senses, she realised someone had her by the shoulders and was dragging her away from the rubble.

“No!” she screamed a scream that she heard from far away. “Let me go!”

“Madame, please,” a gruff voice said as they tightened their grip on her slight shoulders. “We don’t want the building to collapse further.”

“Let me go!” She didn’t know where she got her strength but she saw her feet kicking in the air as she thrashed and struggled against the iron grip on her shoulder. “My husband! My baby! Let me go!”

It took two more men to hold her down as they brought her to a safe distance. She vaguely heard the men rush to pull out their fallen comrades and watched unseeingly when the building collapsed even further. She felt nothing; heard nothing but the roar in her ears. She stopped struggling and the men who’d restrained her ordered Alya and Nino to watch her.

As the private guard began digging through the rubble, finally helped by SWAT teams, she just stared unseeingly at the blur of activity that went by in slow motion.

In the eternity that passed by as the dust disappeared, she saw a familiar bulk make its way through it. Springing to her feet, she rushed forwards to meet him, hardly daring to hope.

“Thomas!” she called out in relief and beamed at him, her entire body feeling like it was doused with cold water when she saw who he held in his arms. It was the Agreste boy. She looked at her husband, her eyes wide and beseeching, begging him to answer the question she daren’t voice out loud.

But it turns out she didn’t have to. “Where’s Marinette?” Alya asked, her voice small and sounding brittle.

Suddenly, they heard men yelling at the side of the collapsed building and the rest of the men rush over. Slowly, Sabine felt something call out to her as she made her way to them, her steps halting and jagged. She reached the throng of men, who parted away from her wordlessly. She reached the front of the crowd in no time, her eyes falling on the bright red spot amongst the grey rubble.

It was a pair of red heeled feet.

Sabine threw her head back and howled to the bright afternoon sun as a light rain started, as though the world was just beginning to realise what just happened and was scrabbling to muster an appropriate response.

Will the circle be unbroken

By and by, by and by?

Is a better home awaiting

In the sky, in the sky?

Chapter Text

The movies lied. When it comes to waking up from a coma, your eyes don't fly open and you shoot up your bed, gasping. At least, it didn't to Adrien.

He remembered gaining consciousness steadily, one sense at a time. One day it was the garbled sounds of the hospital room, sounds he couldn't yet decipher. Another day he smelt the faint smell of coffee and yet another day he remembered feeling cold and his chest itchy. One day he opened his eyes and shuttered them closed again, blinded by the lights. He never knew how many hours, days, or even weeks, he was unconscious. When he did finally open his eyes and he could make sense of his surroundings, he could barely move. He turned his head to the side and was somewhat shocked to see a man, slumped forward on an armchair, a coffee in one hand and the newspaper on his lap.

Gabriel Agreste's head was drooped over his chest and his slack hand accidentally tipped the paper cup onto his lap, something he didn't realise until the coffee seeped through the newspaper and he felt his grey sweatpants become wet. When that woke him up, he looked down at the mess on his lap and cursed, looking around for some tissues. He cradled the soggy newspapers in his arms and threw them and the offending paper cup into the bin before heading to the en suite bathroom, rubbing his eyes as he did.

At first Adrien felt like he was thrown into the deep end, in a place he couldn't understand. Softly, like a whispered voice in his mind, it clicked; that was his father. Bitterly confused, he had no idea when he'd seen his father looking so.... normal . His father was wearing a T-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair all over the place, eyes bloodshot. If he was being completely honest, his father looked exactly like he did when Adrien's mother went missing.

When his father came out of the bathroom, Adrien could only frown in confusion at seeing him that way.

Sighing, Gabriel rubbed his face tiredly before jamming his glasses back onto his face, jabbing his eye a little. He cursed again before heaving another heavy sigh. Out of habit, his gaze swivelled to the hospital bed again, hope bubbling in his chest.

He blinked and cursed his streaming eyes for tricking him, for he could swear he could see those brilliant green eyes staring back at him. But that's impossible, he thought, chastising himself. So far, he'd had too many false alarms and he'd hardly dared to hope anymore. Rubbing his eyes, he sat down on the too soft armchair again, his eyes never leaving the bed. He glared at the ghost he thought he saw by the bed. Stop mocking him dammit!

Adrien opened his mouth, but could only push out a croak. He tried to raise his hand, only to find it tangled with wires and cords.

Gabriel's eyes whipped to his son's hand. Did it move? Could it be? Hardly daring to hope, he stood up and almost tiptoed to the bedside.

"Father," Adrien tried again, his voice still reduced to a croak from the lack of use.

Gabriel could barely bring himself to hope. "Adrien?" He felt his tongue move, the rush of air that whooshed out to form his son's name. Slowly, he gently put a hand on Adrien's cheek, stroking it slowly. "Is it you?"

Frowning in confusion, Adrien could only blink.

"Adrien..." Gabriel couldn't stop his eyes from filling and he couldn't stop stroking his son's hair as he stared into those green eyes he thought he'd never see again. "My son...." Overcome with emotion, his knees buckled and he was brought to his knees by the bedside, his hand clutching the blanket.

Adrien was flabbergasted. "Father?" His voice still croaked uselessly but it was getting there.

He could only hear sobs for the most part, until he could pick out murmured words amongst the sobs. "Please be real, please be real. Please don't let this be a dream. Please let him be real."

Adrien tried to grasp his father's hand, but only managed to brush it. "Father, what's wrong?"

His father peeked over the railing and stared into his eyes. Unable to control himself, Gabriel clapped his hand over his eyes as he sobbed.

Adrien could only stare at this man who was his father. He didn't know what to do; this was a situation he never thought he'd have to be going through.

Finally, Gabriel pushed himself to his feet and gazed at his son, his only child, with eyes wet and soft. "How are you?" he whispered, stroking the golden hair.

"Confused," Adrien answered. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital."

"Is something wrong with me?"

"Don't you remember? You were kidnapped by a psychopath for a week."

Adrien frowned harder, his head throbbing.

"Don't you remember?" Gabriel lowered his tall, lanky frame to look into his son's eyes.

"I," Adrien stuttered. "I don't know."

"It's okay if you don't," his father said gently. "You have plenty of time to remember."

Monday

The days blurred together at this point and Adrien wasn't exactly sure how long he'd been awake. He kept up with his therapy and medication diligently, eager to leave the sickly white hospital room, with its smell of chemicals and too cold sheets. Every day as he made his way to the therapy room, he would see people either in tears or jubilation. He smiled at Nathalie as she wheeled him to the therapy room.

He can't wait to leave.

And today was another cause for celebration; today he was finally allowed to see his friends.

"Great to see you, man."

"Nino!" Adrien grinned widely, pleasantly surprised at the sight of his friend. He looked thinner than he remembered.

"Hi, Adrien."

"Oh, hey Alya," he raised his eyebrow at Nino, who just shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

"Nino, I cannot believe you!"

Nino just smiled as he reached for Alya's hand and she took it, smiling at Adrien. But something was off. Her smile was off.

"Is something wrong?" Adrien asked, his eyes combing Alya's face.

"I'm sorry, I can't," Alya blurted. "I'm sorry Nino," she murmured, pulling her hand away and placing it on his shoulder. "I'll be outside," she whispered in his ear. "I can't do it, I'm sorry."

Nino put his hand on hers and squeezed it reassuringly. "It's okay. I'll see you soon."

Alya turned to face Adrien, eyes wet. "Adrien, I'm glad you're okay but I have to go. I'll see you later?"

"Oh, o-okay sure. Thanks for coming, Alya!" He beamed at her appreciatively, recovering from the shock of her sudden outburst.

She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it, clapping her mouth shut. Nodding tersely, she slipped out the door, where she only made it halfway down the hall before her knees failed her and she slumped against the wall, heaving dry sobs. She clutched her chest as it seared in white-hot pain. Oh Marinette...

"So how are you feeling, man?" Nino squeezed his best friend's shoulder, his heart tightening briefly. He's here; he's real. This isn't a dream. He has his friend back...

But at what cost?

Catching himself, Nino pushed his smile to widen just a little bit.

Oblivious, Adrien just smiled back benignly. "I'm still confused; I was told that I was kidnapped and that I was gone for a week?? I don't know, man, it was all a blur."

"You don't remember anything?" Nino blurted out in surprise.

"I don't remember all of it; just, like, bits and pieces. I definitely don't remember getting so many bruises and cuts."

"Really..."

"Yeah but I'm making great recovery!" Adrien enthused, unaware of Nino's bemused expression. "The doctor said I could be discharged by Friday!"

"So you'll make it in time for the funeral then?" The words slipped out of his mouth unthinkingly, before he could put to use the filter that's supposed to be placed between the brain and the mouth. Clapping his mouth shut, Nino mentally kicked himself over and over again.

Cold. Cold washed down his back as Adrien heard a roaring in his ears, louder than any jet, than any waterfall. Cold and roaring. "Whose funeral?" he heard his voice say from afar. Was that his voice? It sounded different.

"N-nothing," his friend tried to backtrack, knowing it's futile but tried anyway. He had his cap in his hands now and was crushing it between anxious fingers. He couldn't look more guilty if he tried.

" Whose funeral? " Adrien repeated, his voice growing hard and brittle. A soft whisper sounded in his mind as it tried to remind him but it was too faint over the sound of the roaring in his ears.

His best friend looked away, his eyes pointing to the floor as he shifted from one foot to another. He scratched the back of his neck and rolled his head upwards as he took in a huge gulp of air. But for all the air he gasped in he only managed to whisper, "Marinette."

If before his ears roared, now they were abruptly silenced. Adrien could see Nino talking but he couldn't hear anything save for the ringing in his ears.

Tuesday

"If you were to ask my professional medical opinion, I'd say you need to stay a little while longer. At least a week longer. I'm not blaming anyone, but the news of your friend has obviously upset you and considering your fragile situation, I'm afraid of its effects on you-"

Adrien's doctor delivered this speech mechanically, almost monotonously and she barely flinched at Adrien's interruption.

"Unacceptable," Adrien snarled, his lips curling up and his green eyes flashing like hard jewels as he glared at his doctor. He looked uncannily like an angry cat to the good doctor.

"Adrien-" Mr Agreste started.

"However," the doctor cut through both of them easily, holding a hand up as though to physically stem the tide of their ire. "If you were to ask my personal opinion, I'd say go ahead."

The two Agreste men started at how unceremoniously the words were dropped, like small pebbles. "What?" they blurted in unison.

The good doctor almost cracked a smile. "It would provide a sense of closure and completeness, I should think. This seems to be a deeply personal issue with you," she mused, eyes on his patient, "and working towards this goal might do wonders to your body. It might speed up the recovery process. I always find human drive to be a thoroughly baffling and wonderful sight to behold. So yes," she smiled for real this time, "you can go. I will sign your release papers. But, " her voice hardened slightly here, "if you were to deteriorate even slightly , I will personally shove you into an ambulance and bring you back here."

Adrien smiled wolfishly and the good doctor saw how this boy would grace the cover of magazines. She'd personally never heard of the Agreste family but after hearing the nurses gush, she can finally see why. If she was slightly younger, she could probably see herself watching him in awe but for now, she simply had no time for such attachments.

"Don't worry, good doctor," Adrien said, his voice dripping in gratitude, "I will try my best to not come back here."

She nodded. "See to it, Mister Agreste." She nodded at Mister Agreste senior, peered through Adrien's charts, scribbled for a short while before leaving the room with another perfunctory nod.

Adrien forced himself to potter up and down the halls in his crutches soon afterwards, trying to get his stupid legs to work again. Thankfully he wasn't unconscious for long, or else this recovery period would've been much longer. He waved at the nurses, all of whom cooed and smiled at him every time he passed by the nurse's station.

"Going somewhere, Adrien?" One of them called out as he passed by the station again.

"Just practicing on walking," he grinned and colour bloomed across her cheeks. "I'm getting out of here on Friday and I want to do it on my own two feet."

"Good luck, Adrien," another nurse smiled at him, smacking her co-worker across the back with a plastic file, making the first nurse yelp. "Don't overexert yourself."

"I'll try not to." Adrien turned away and pottered to the other end of the hall, passing by an open room. Inside the room was a gruff looking man, his face marred by healing cuts, a bandage covering an eye. He snored loudly and a passing nurse lowered the top half of his bed, lessening the snores slightly.

"Doing okay, Adrien?" the nurse smiled at him, surreptitiously shielding the man from his vision.

"Is he okay?" Adrien asked, indicating to the snoring man.

"Not too bad," the nurse said. "He's healing nicely."

"What happened to him?"

The nurse shifted slightly. "He was caught in the blast of a falling building," he said slowly, as though considering his words carefully. "A piece of shrapnel hit him right above the eye."

"Does that mean his eye was taken out?"

"For now, it doesn't seem so. We don't actually know if he'll retain his vision until he wakes up."

"Why was he so close to a falling building?"

The nurse shifted again and bit his lip, his open face betraying his unease. "According to his chart, he pulled a girl out of a falling building," he fixed honest brown eyes on Adrien intently.

At first, it didn't register what the nurse was implying. Adrien was about to dismiss it when it finally clicked. The pieces clicked into place with an almost metallic click, one scene after another. "Was this man," he began, licking his lips uncertainly, "a part of my father's private guard?" He didn't ask the question he wanted to know outright, instead choosing for the roundabout way to ask it.

"Yes," the nurse said bluntly.

"I see. What happened to the girl he pulled out?"

This time the nurse took a deep breath, seriously considering his next words very carefully. "She didn't make it."

Throat tightening, Adrien nodded. "I see." He turned around abruptly to face his room. "Thank you," he said tightly, throwing the words over his shoulder. He didn't see or hear the nurse's reaction and hobbled as fast as he can back to his room.

((Adrien hated it.))

He hated how slowly he was moving.

He wanted to put as much distance between him and that man's room as he possibly can. He was vaguely thankful his room was in a suite at the very end of the corridor.

((He was still angry.))

((He hated these crutches.))

He wished he could run.

He can't breathe.

He didn't hear the nurses call out to him and pottered with single-minded focus to the door of his room.

The corridor seemed to lengthen. He can't remember if his room ever felt so far away.

((He didn't stop his feet.))

The crutches were hurting his armpits but the pain was far away and unimportant.

He had to get to his door.

Finally, he reached his door.

He fumbled angrily with the doorknob before pushing it open with his body.

He threw away his crutches and collapsed on the floor.

"Adrien!" Adrien vaguely heard his father call out. Subconsciously he felt his father place his hands underneath his armpits and haul him up to his feet, the pain far away and unimportant. He rose to his feet unsteadily and clawed at his father's shirt desperately.

"Adrien, what's wrong?" Gabriel never felt such acute fear before, not even when he found out Adrien was missing. When a person is missing, the fear was sharp and bitter. When the person has been found but something was wrong, it tasted metallic and piercing, like a silver stake through his mouth. Curious how there were different kinds of fear, he thought absentmindedly.

His son clung to the front of his shirt and screamed, his voice muffled by his shirt and body. Gabriel pulled his son closer to him and hugged him tight as the scream vibrated against his chest, reverberating inside his core, echoing in his hollow chest and he wished he could absorb all the screams. Soak it up like a sponge into himself so his son doesn't have to keep it inside him. He wished he could transfer all his son's pain into himself and make it his own. He looked up at the ceiling as Adrien screamed and screamed, unable to do or say anything as he could only hold his son close.

Wednesday

Today Adrien managed to force his eyes open.

Marinette is dead

He scrunched his eyes shut again. "Shut up," he whispered hoarsely, his voice feeling as though it were cotton being dragged against the razors nestled in his throat.

Marinette is dead

Adrien covered his eyes with his arm. "Please," he pleaded softly.

Marinette is dead

Tears sprung and trickled out the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks, cold against the heat of his cheeks. It pooled in his ears and he shook his head in annoyance, making them splash onto his pillows.

Marinette is dead

"I know."

Marinette is dead

"I know."

Dead.

"Please," he begged again, but he didn't know to whom he was begging. He just wanted it to end.

"Adrien?"

His father's voice sounded far away and almost fearful. Adrien recalled with painful clarity the screaming he did yesterday. On and on he screamed as the pain in his chest threatened to swallow him, threatened to consume him and make him suffer an unending pain. He felt that screaming held the pain at bay. When he'd collapsed with the exhaustion of screaming, the pain engulfed him, its sting mercifully dull. Maybe it was the exhaustion that dulled the pain. Maybe.

Adrien remembered his father's arms around him as he screamed, firm and soft at the same time. He remembered the wetness he felt on the crown of his head; remembered being held against his father's chest and hearing the steady beat of  his heart. Adrien also remembered his father picking him up carefully after he collapsed with exhaustion and placing him on the bed, draping a blanket over him and smoothing the hair that was plastered on his forehead. He didn't know his father, this man that was absent for much of recent memory, was capable of such tenderness.

Unwilling to drag his voice through his throat again, he merely nodded and heard his father sigh.

"I need to go for a bit. Will you be okay while I'm away?"

Adrien nodded again and listened as his father made as little noise as possible. He heard the soft rustles of cloth being moved, his father picking up his bag, the sounds of the soft footfalls moving away from his bed. Then, sudden silence. He strained his ears for any other sounds but heard none. He was about to open his eyes when he heard hurried footfalls towards him and a hand on his cheek. Adrien stiffened, unaccustomed to such tenderness.

"Pardonnez moi, mon fils," his father said softly before walking away from the bed again. This time, Adrien heard the door open and close as his father left the room.

*     *     *     *

Nathalie smiled and waved at the nurses as she wheeled an empty wheelchair past their station, greeting them all by name. She'd been here so often she knew all of them by name now. When she received the text from Mr Agreste, asking her to take Adrien to his therapy session again, she was puzzled. Since Adrien's return he'd only requested for her twice, choosing to be there himself. She of course agreed to it and was shocked when he actually thanked her. Mr Agreste is not by any means a mean boss but he was very tight-lipped with praises and kind words.

The last time she saw Adrien, he was lying on his bed, his head turned away from the door and facing out the window. The sun's rays spilled through the windows and glinted off his blonde hair. Even in that position, he radiated light like the sun. At the sound of the door, he turned to look at her and her breath caught in her throat at how gaunt he looked; at the shadows that played across his face and under his eyes. Then, he smiled and greeted her, making the breath in her throat flow out as his face shone with the brightness she was accustomed to. She spent several hours with him that day and watched him closely as the shadows moved across his face when he wasn't smiling anymore. When she left that evening, she was crying without even realising it until a sob escaped her lips.

This time Adrien was fine, but he was also not; she couldn't quite place it. He wasn't gaunt anymore, but he was still a little too thin for her liking. But even though he had filled out slightly, the shadows playing across his face were, if possible, even darker. There was a certain air hanging around him like a sickness. At that moment, she remembered Mr Agreste telling her that Adrien knew about his friend. Was it grief? This darkness surrounding him like noxious gas? He wasn't radiating light anymore, she realised with a jolt.

He was still turned away from her and only turned to face her when she cleared her throat. She pushed out a smile in greeting. "Good morning, Adrien."

"Hello Nathalie."

Even his voice betrayed the darkness he must've felt. Blinking, she pushed the wheelchair towards the bed. "I'm here to take you to your therapy session."

"I'm not going," Adrien murmured heavily, turning away from her again. The sun shone through the windows but it didn't shine off him as it did before.

"Excuse me?" she asked, slightly more incredulously than she intended.

"I said I'm not going." His hoarse voice grated her ears almost harshly.

"You are," Nathalie said before she could stop herself.

Adrien turned to her with a raised eyebrow before turning back to face the window, away from her.

"I did not," she began, unable to stop now, "come all the way here, as a last minute request from your father, to face a surly child."

"You can leave then."

"What?" Her anger notched just a little higher.

"Leave. Everyone else does. My mother. Marinette. Hell, even my father. Son bedridden and he goes off to work. What's one more person."

For lack of better way to vent her anger, Nathalie pushed her glasses up her nose with a little more force than was necessary. "If you insist," she almost snarled out. Turning the wheelchair around so sharply it squealed, she walked stiffly towards the exit. As she was about to cross the threshold, she turned her face to look at the bed. "Your father left not because he didn't care, but because of certain funeral matters. He had to choose between his family and his responsibility." She had more to say but forced her mouth shut as she wheeled the chair out, her heels clipping curtly, almost like they were reprimanding him as well.

Nathalie wheeled the chair to a stop next to the door, where she collapsed against the wall, spent. All these emotions made her tired. Really, these Agreste men, she thought, lips twisting into a sardonic smile. She crossed her arms and tapped her finger to her arm in an unknown rhythm.

It wasn't terribly long before the doorknob turned. She watched it out of the corner of her eye and saw Adrien emerge. The boy started when he saw her outside and she couldn't stop the smug smile from making itself known. She raised an eyebrow at him, saying nothing.

She didn't even move when he hobbled to the wheelchair and almost tripped. When he'd settled into the chair, she lifted the brake  and wordlessly wheeled him to the lift, only opening her mouth to reply to the nurse's greetings.

They entered the lift in silence, she pressed the floor button in silence, they descended in silence. She refused to open her mouth throughout the entire descent and when the doors opened with a slight rattle, she almost missed it. The mumbled apology that squeezed out of this boy's lips. Saying nothing, she allowed a small smile to appear as she wheeled him to the therapy room.

Thursday

Adrien could now move around without relying too much on outside help. His knees still shook a little but he wasn't sure if that was because of being in a coma or was it because of the anticipation of leaving. He seemed to have lost his phone sometime during his capture so he couldn't reconnect with his friends. For now, he didn't want to. He wants to focus on therapy and recovering in time for her funeral. He'd already missed the wake, held the day before yesterday, after he passed out from his own exhaustion.

Today in physiotherapy he wanted to focus on getting used to carrying around weight. He wanted to be a pallbearer.

When he'd proposed the idea towards his father, he was met with resistance. He's still recovering, Gabriel said. He's still not strong enough. There are other pallbearers.

But Adrien insisted, refusing to budge. There were other pallbearers but that doesn't mean he couldn't be one. He'll build up strength. He won't take no for an answer. Not this time.

His determination must've showed on his face because his father finally relented and agreed. "Who's the other pallbearers?" Adrien asked.

"Almost every one of the boys in your class."

"Then I want to be with them," he said confidently.

"Only if your therapist says you can," Gabriel warned, his eyes glinting as he faced the steady gaze of his son, blue against green.

So here he was in the therapy room, building up the strength of his arms and shoulders, with his father keeping a strict watch on his progress. He knew that if he hesitated or stuttered even a little, he'd never be the pallbearer. So he grit his teeth against the discomfort and soldiered on.

He was resting on one of the chairs when his doctor entered the room. She greeted him with a smile and he raised his water bottle in response. She crossed the room swiftly and murmured something to his therapist, who went to his desk and took out a clipboard. Pushing himself up, Adrien walked over to them as she continued to study his charts and reports. She eyed him when he neared her with interest.

"Surprised, doctor?" Adrien grinned wolfishly.

"I've been doing this for a while now, Monsieur Agreste," the good doctor looked at him over the clipboard. "Very little surprises me now." She turned back to his charts.

Adrien knew the pattern of her speech by now and waited for the second part of her speech.

"However," there it is, "your reports say you're doing well. You're recovering far better than I would've initially predicted. You're doing upper body strength now?" She peered at him again for him to confirm her question.

Adrien nodded. "I'm aiming to be the pallbearer."

The good doctor stilled. "Do you now?" she tapped clipboard, which meant she was either nervous or contemplative.

"Is there a problem with that?" Gabriel pressed, joining their little talk.

"How many others are also pallbearers?"

"Fitting Adrien in, there would be eight," Mr Agreste answered. "She was much loved."

His father deliberately avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the doctor. Adrien tried to keep his face neutral as he felt the good doctor scrutinise him. He'd been so focused on recovering and leaving tomorrow that he'd forced himself not to think about the funeral. More specifically, he forced himself not to think of whose funeral it would be. If he let it consume him, he would only succeed in holding himself back. No, he didn't need that.

"In that case," the good doctor mused, "I suppose there shouldn't be much of a problem. Just make sure the weight is evenly distributed. Don't carry more than you can handle," she demanded Adrien's gaze and fixed him with an intense stare, "even if you think you deserve the pain."

Adrien swallowed the lump in his throat. He studied his doctor's face and vaguely thought that she must've been a fierce beauty once. But the piercing gaze she gave him shook him. It was like she was looking straight into his soul and she knew him better than he knew himself. He nodded slowly in agreement.

She looked at him for a short while more before looking away and he felt the breathe he was unaware he'd been holding in whoosh out.

"I'll check up on you again tomorrow before I sign your discharge form." It was a statement, not a suggestion. And one that didn't leave room for any other words.

Gabriel nodded. "Very well."

"I'd like a word with you, if you please, Monsieur Agreste," the good doctor said. "Senior," she clarified, casting a sideways glance at Adrien, who took it that he was dismissed.

His suspicious gaze lingering on the good doctor for a little while longer, Adrien made his way to his therapist, peeking at his doctor and his father. Soon after, the good doctor left and he breathed a sigh of relief. He looks at his father quizzically, who only shook his head. Adrien frowned but went back to his physiotherapy.

Friday

The nurse knocked on the door four times before coming inside. "I've brought you your breakfast," he said, seeing Adrien sitting at the side of his bed. "Ready to go?"

"So ready," Adrien answered, making the nurse smile. He could see why some of the other nurses were so taken by this Agreste boy.

"Last meal here then?"

"Hopefully. My bags are packed and ready to go. I'm just waiting for my dad and the good doctor to sign the release form and I'm out of here. Not in a bad way, though," he added quickly.

"And I want you out of here asap too," the nurse smiles.

Adrien grins sheepishly and was saved from more awkward interactions when his father entered the room. "Ah, Adrien. Good to see you're up. Eat your breakfast, child, you're set to go." Mr Agreste nodded to the nurse, who nodded back and slid out of the room silently.

Gabriel sat on the armchair by the bed with a heavy sigh and took out his phone while Adrien tucked into his modest meal. He waved off Adrien's offers to bites of his breakfast and continued scrolling through his phone, catching up on messages. When Adrien was done, he got up and took his son's bags. "Ready to go then?" The question was useless as Adrien already raced by him out the door. He walked to the lift in silence, descended with Adrien in silence, waited for the chauffeur to pick them up in silence. He darted glances at his son on occasion and heaved a sigh.

Inside the car, the silence was stifling.

Adrien fidgeted with his fingers, wondering why something felt wrong. As the car slid to a stop at a red light, he could take it no longer. "Father, is something wrong?" he asked, finally looking up from his clenched hands, shocked to see his father looking at him.

His father blinked slowly and sighed for the umpteenth time. "Adrien, my son," he began, alarming Adrien even more. "How are you?"

The question startled him in its simplicity and he blinked for a bit, trying to comprehend. "What do you mean?"

"I won't beat around the bush anymore. Your friend is dead, Adrien, and her funeral is tomorrow; which you have offered and insisted in being her pallbearer. I will ask again; how do you feel?"

"How do I feel?" Adrien repeated dumbly. He'd spent all that time in the hospital with a single-minded goal in mind; to leave by Friday. Now he's out, what now? Suddenly he's confronted with the reality of the situation.

Marinette is dead

Adrien could feel his throat constrict. "No," he whispered.

Marinette is dead

He bent over, hands on his mouth as a feeling of nausea welled up from the back of his throat. His heart was racing and he felt like he was breaking out in cold sweat.

He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder and whipped his head to look at his father. Gabriel squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and moved the hand to his son's head. "Oh my son," he sighed as he stroked Adrien's head. "So young to feel such loss."

At the feeling of his father's slender fingers playing with his hair, it was like he was transported ten years back in time and like that time, he felt his eyes well up. He stared into his father's blue eyes, gleaming with love and shining like jewels. He gripped his knees and bowed his head, as he felt the grief slam into him like a wave. A sob escaped his throat and tears soaked his jeans, leaving round dots on the light fabric. His father kept his hand on Adrien's head the entire ride.

*     *     *     *

That night Adrien lay in bed, exhausted but awake.

Marinette is dead

"I know," he replied to the gloomy darkness. He traced small patterns with delicate fingers on his pillowcase.

Marinette is dead

He sighed and turned on his back. The city lights streamed through his windows and his eyes drifted to his best suit hanging by his bed, already laid out by the maid.

Tomorrow's her funeral

Finally, the ghoulish whisper in his mind said something different. Yes, tomorrow's her funeral but he felt too dried out to cry. His tongue sat uncomfortably in his parched mouth, insisting for a drink of water but he was unwilling to move, feeling like he was being tied to his bed with invisible chains.

He was consumed by a feeling of unease, his heart hammering like it was still exercising. His head felt like what he could only describe as white noise, fuzzy, light and disconnected from his other senses. He felt acutely like a cornered animal, ready to sprint at a moment's notice, but at the same time consumed by a sense of lethargy. As a result, he just stayed in bed with a rising feeling of nausea and restlessness. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes unblinking.

Saturday

Gabriel was awake before his alarm. The funeral was at 9am but he'd set his alarm at 7. It looked like the makings of a beautiful day, it seems. But with weather, you can never be so sure. The sound of the alarm made him flinch instinctively as he reached forward to switch it off and continued to lie as he was, his body heavy.

That girl is dead

And it was because of him.

Gabriel closed his eyes slowly before opening them again. No, he knew it was because of him but at the same time, he felt deeply indebted because she died to save Adrien.

When the dust from the building's collapse settled, the monstrous Papillon dissolved into piles of fine dust, almost like the ones you find on butterfly wings and after it there was an unnatural hush from everyone in the general area as everyone tried to comprehend what just happened.

Even Gabriel, who was watching the events on a screen on his desk, his knuckles white from clenching his fists too hard, held his breath.

Suddenly, there was a commotion on one end of Ground Zero as several men yelled in an effort to restrain a screaming woman.

"No!" she screamed. "Let me go!" As several men went over to hold her back, she screamed like a woman possessed, "My husband! My baby! Let me go!"

The building collapsed even further and Gabriel let out a small gasp, clapping a hand over his mouth as bile rose from the back of his throat. When it looked like it was over, some of his private guard rushed over to try and dig through the rubble and through the dust, he saw Monsieur Dupain-Cheng limp out, a limp figure in his arms.

Instantly, Gabriel was on his feet. "Nathalie!" he yelled through the intercom. There was a brief commotion on the other end before he heard his assistant speak through it. "Get me a live report on Ground Zero!" Nathalie blustered about and he lost his patience. " Now! " he roared.

He sat back in his seat and instantly shot back to his feet, pacing furiously. From where he is he couldn't clearly see the figure in Monsieur Dupain-Cheng's arms and the uncertainty is killing him, he watched the screen and chewed his thumb nervously, pacing back and forth as he did.

He pressed a button on the intercom to bark at Nathalie for the report, his eyes glued to the screen when he heard the most unnatural scream pierce his ears, making his hair stand on edge and instinctively made him want to run. Madame Dupain-Cheng was at the ruined building, her scream piercing the skies as it rained.

He took his finger off the button.

Funding the funeral was the least he could do. Official reports said the girl was a recent previously unknown abduction victim of this Hawkmoth, which the media has painted as a terrorist. But he had a suspicion. When asked, the Dupain-Chengs declined all interviews, too distraught to answer fully.

One of Adrien's classmates, the girl he saw sobbing in the hallway, was more vocal. She was the girl's best friend, it seems. She painted Marinette Dupain-Cheng as a hero, stating her friend's success in tracking down his son and getting herself caught in the process. When some media outlets criticised Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng's actions that led her to get abducted, Mademoiselle Césaire threatened the outlets for slander, her disproval in their negative portrayal of her friend vocal and vehement. Mademoiselle Césaire portrayed Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng as nothing short of a hero.

But it didn't confirm his suspicions.

But he finally decided, with much thought, that if none of them would vocally confirm who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was and what she was really doing there, he wasn't going to make things worse with unconfirmed suspicions and hunches.

So he put all his effort into the funeral.

When he proposed the idea to the Dupain-Chengs, they just told him to do what he wanted, their eyes hollow and lips pinched. He'd intended to make it a small, private affair, one for family and close friends; but when Nathalie reported a huge amount of mail depicting the masses' condolences and praise for the girl's actions, he decided to make it as large as he possibly can. When asked to RSVP, almost half of Paris responded and while they weren't allowed to attend the actual funeral, he'd gotten permission from the council to host live broadcasts for the affair around Paris for the crowds to make their tributes.

It was extremely costly and it all came out of his own pocket.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, his bones aching. He was glad to have Adrien back, that much was undeniable. But his guilt over the girl was immense, and he only hoped that this funeral would atone for it. The donations for the funeral he wired directly towards the family, taking none of it himself.

He showered and got dressed, fixing his tie before making his way down the corridor to his son's room. Knocking quietly, he pushed the door open and poked his head in. He intended to make Adrien rest for a little while longer but was startled to find that his son was already awake. What's more, he was already dressed and seated at the edge of his bed.

Gabriel crossed the room and sat down next to his only child. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?" he asked gently, placing a hand on his son's head.

"I'm not sure," Adrien answered softly.

Gabriel stroked his son's head and pulled him in for a hug, wanting, not for the first time, to take all his son's grief and sorrow away and make it his own. He wanted his son to be free from the weight of such sadness.

They stayed that way for a while, until the sun streamed through the large windows.

"Let's go," Adrien said finally, disentangling himself from his father's embrace. Adrien stood up straight and fixed his tie, wiping stray tears away from his eyes with a finger. "We don't want to be late." He took a deep breath, arranged his face to a look of neutrality and walked out the door.

Gabriel could only stare at the space where his son had been in amazement. His son might be able to hold the grief on his own, after all.

*     *     *     *

The funeral was filled with his classmates and people from school, Adrien noted as he stepped into the church. As he entered, he immediately made his way to the Dupain-Chengs, who were greeting the guests as they filed through the door. When he'd arrived at the church, he was surprised to see a small crowd had gathered outside the church gates, carrying photos of Marinette and holding lit candles, some crying in bereavement. Who were these people? he thought in confusion. They turned around when they saw him and rushed towards him, only to be pushed back by Father's guards. Adrien was then hustled into the church without further incident.

Madame Dupain-Cheng murmured something to the people in front of him and they said something back before making their way to the pews. She turned to look at him and her face became even paler, if that was possible.

Adrien stepped forward and shook Monsieur Dupain-Cheng's hand before looking straight at his wife. She was almost a mirror image of her daughter. Her skin was as pale and as translucent, her lips like cherry blossoms. Her eyes betrayed her pain as they looked at him with unfathomable sadness and grief. A stab of pain hit Adrien's chest for a second as her lips quivered. "Madame Dupain-Cheng," he began sincerely, feeling his mask crack. "I am so very sorry for your loss. I'm sorry for causing it. I'm sorry for not being there for you. I'm sorry my words just aren't enough." He was rambling now and he knew it, but he just couldn't stop it. "I don't know what else to say except I'm sorry."

The older woman closed her eyes slowly, as though she was in pain, and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she took both his hands and enveloped him in a hug. "Do not be sorry," she whispered. "My daughter lived a good life, filled with good people. She was brave and she was brilliant. She wouldn't want you to be hurt like this. She did what she thought was right and you were not at fault there. There is nothing to forgive. I can only thank you, for making the effort to come." She pulled away from him then and smiled sadly. She reached forward and gently wiped away the tears he didn't realise fell from his eyes. "Please take a seat with us. We will talk later."

It was a blur after that. Adrien didn't hear the long eulogy droned out by a tired priest. Didn't see his classmates walk one by one to the podium and gave small speeches about Marinette. Stared unseeingly as Nino and Alya made their way to the podium and spoke as one. Nino was bareheaded and Alya had her hair tied back, her grief making her look older. They made a powerful speech that started many sounds of weeping.

He was brought back to the present when an old man he didn't recognise came up to speak. "I doubt any of you know me," he began, "but I was the janitor in your school. When I came over to express my condolences, I didn't expect to be invited to the funeral as well. I just wanted to say, the school lost a bright soul when Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng left us. It is never an intention for the elderly to watch the young leave before them and this one hit me the hardest. The kind mademoiselle regularly visited me after school hours. She always brought in freshly baked bread, which she gave to me. She'd found me, quite by accident one day. Tripped over my mop bucket, water went everywhere ." Some people chuckled here. "She apologised profusely and refused to let me 'clean up her mess'. Her words, not mine." More chuckles. "Ever since then, she'd bring me bread by sneaking it into my supply room. She never left a note but she didn't need to. No one else smelled more like freshly baked bread and blooms quite like she did."

For some reason, the old man's words struck Adrien. He stared at the old man and his vision blurred instantly, startling him. He blinked and the tears fell hot and heavy down his cold cheeks. He didn't know he had any more tears to squeeze out. He was suddenly hit with a wave of  grief and melancholy.

Suddenly, before he could collect himself, the service was over and everyone stood up. The pallbearers made their way forward as the rest began to file outside. Adrien slowly made his way to the front as his father made his way outside, his knees shaking again. He quickly wiped away his tears, feeling embarrassed. Turned out it wasn't necessary, as everyone else weeper openly. Kim clapped a hand on Adrien's shoulder, his hair shockingly flat on his head, like it too was paying their respects to the deceased. Nathaniel looked like he hasn't slept inweeks, the shadows around his eyes deep and dark as he nodded at Adrien before looking away.

"Good to see you, buddy," Nino muttered as he placed a hand on Adrien's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Adrien blurted out.

Nino only nodded. "I get you. Shall we?" He took his place by the coffin and the rest of them did the same. Together, they hoisted the coffin and brought it outside into the bright sunshine. For a while Adrien seethed at how bright and brilliant the world looked and cursed it for not reflecting the mood of everyone around them. How can the world look so bright when he only felt lost and cold on the inside?

He watched the coffin being lowered into the ground wordlessly when he heard Marinette's father say, in a hoarse voice, "I'm glad it's sunny today. For some reason I bet she would prefer her funeral day to be sunny. If it were raining it would just be a constant reminder of the sadness. But who can remain sad on such a beautiful day? She wouldn't want people to remain sad." He ended the sentence abruptly, as though he'd accidentally let slip something he wasn't supposed to. Adrien peeked at the large man from the corner of his eye and heard a guttural sob wrack his body, prompting Adrien to look forward again in an effort to mind his own business.

But it was hard.

It was hard to think that that narrow wooden box held someone he holds so dear. That person inside the box had a life which he had been a part of, however briefly. He tried to whisper his goodbyes as the coffin was lowered. He tried to whisper his regret and sorrows as one by one, people threw a handful of dirt into the grave, the thumps as loud as his heartbeat. He wrung his hands so hard his eyes watered. Or was it because of the finality of the situation? She's gone and she won't be coming back. This isn't a movie and it isn't TV. She's well and truly gone.

As the last of the dirt covered the grave and people started to thin out, he realised what made him feel so uneasy yesterday, a lifetime ago.

His ring was missing.

Ten years later

Adrien got out of the sleek car before his chauffeur did it for him. He was as nervous as he was when he was first here so long ago. It was just beginning to turn cold; he was late. He'd apologise later.

Stuffing his free hand in his pocket, he leaned into the car and took out a bouquet. It wasn't fancy and it wasn't large. It only had half a dozen pink roses and small daisies. It was the same as the bouquet he bought years ago. That time he was so nervous, wondering if the roses were a bit much. But in the end he'd thought she would like this the most so he just clenched his fists and went with it.

He smiled a little now, remembering his nerves then. He took one determined step at a time. He'd thought about this long and hard, swinging between longing and guilt. But now would be a good time, he'd reckon. She would be okay with this.

He stopped just short of it. Her grave was immaculate as always, hardly a weed of stray bit of grass in sight. Only the slightly chipped headstone gave an indication of the time that passed.

Adrien walked over and crouched near the headstone instead of directly in front of it, having developed a habit in avoiding the area where he knew the coffin would be.

"Don't want to step on your toes," he said with a small smile, wondering if she'd hit him for using the same joke year in, year out.

In front of the headstone was another bouquet, this one slightly dried out and contained nothing but wildflowers, looking wild but beautiful. She would love it.

As he always did, he placed his bouquet right next to the one with wildflowers, the only two on the headstone. Initially, there had been dozens of bouquets, until it covered the entire plot. But as time went by, it petered out until there was only his and the wildflower bouquet. He wasn't sure who'd brought it, though; because the gang drifted away and set off on their own paths after graduation. He'd tried to keep track but those first few years were tough.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he slipped a hand in his coat pocket and drew out a white envelope, its pristine colour blinding. Carefully, he placed it behind his bouquet, his mind drifting again to last night.

He'd tossed and turned, anxious to carry out his decision but not knowing how to. It was hours of drifting in and out of light, restless sleep when his eyes hot open with renewed vigour. Of course; why didn't he think so before? He'll write a letter! Getting his thoughts out now would be much easier than when he was there. He'd surely mess up the words when he's there.

Or so he thought.

One crumpled up paper after another filled his wastepaper basket before he keened in frustration. Why can't he get the words right?

A short pity party later, he thought maybe he didn't need to put the words out just right. Maybe she'll accept them, garbled as it might be.

And so he tried again.

"Hey Marinette,

I know I didn't used to do this often before....well before. And for that, I am sorry. I was foolish and arrogant to believe that I would have you forever; that we would grow old together, be shitty parents together and watch in wonder as our kids surprised us. Like, 'Whoa, I can't believe that kid's mine.' Then we'd look at each other, just smile stupidly and say, 'Well, we were shitty but our kids are amazing. Where did we go right?'

"I was foolish and arrogant to think that we could go on forever, that time doesn't apply to us. We're always there with each other until we would both burn out. Even in-" he hovered the pen over the paper, his dry throat swallowing nothing over and over. He swallowed again, the walls of his throat constricting painfully. Hands shaking, he put the pen down a little more forceful than was necessary . "Even in death, we thought we would go together. That was how I thought we'd go. It made most sense that way. I can't imagine one without the other. Well, now I don't need to imagine. Now you're gone in a place I just can't reach. And all I can do now is hope and pray for even the slightest chance of one day reaching the place where you are.

"I admired you so much, did you know that? You admired me? Pah! I admired you so much more. You have no idea how much I admired you and neither did I until very recently.

"Humans are arrogant. They think they'll go on forever. Before, I thought I was content with just you being there. Just a phone call away. Just a text away. Just a seat away. You were there. We didn't need to hang out every week, every day; we were content just knowing they're there. We didn't need honeyed words, we already knew.

"If I had texted you every day would the sweetness of our interaction diminish? When something's there all the time you tend to disregard it, you take advantage of its consistency of being there. We were frugal in our interactions between one another and it made our rare words with each other that much sweeter. Now it's just bittersweet. But sweet nonetheless.

"I'm glad to have known you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I am now forever thankful to have known you, to have been close to you. You were soft, you were steel, you were sharp as a tack. You were clumsy, you were graceful, you were kind. You were the best of us all.

"And now I'm using past tense.

"I have to go. I'm sorry, but it's too painful. I'm selfish but I can't carry this pain. Not anymore. If we ever meet again, if I ever reach the plane you've arrived at, I hope you can forgive me.

"Actually, if I'm being completely, unabashedly honest, you'd already have forgiven me before I even knew I needed your forgiveness.

Goodbye, dear Marinette.

I miss you."

Tears flowed down his cheeks again and he closed his eyes slowly to let them fall. He thought it would be easier than this but turns out it wasn't. He took one deep breath after another, until he was sure he had calmed down. Reaching forward, he dusted off the top of the already-immaculate headstone and got up, brushing his hands on his jeans twice.

He wanted to say something, he really did.  But at the same time, he knew all is said and done. So he kissed the tips of his finger and traced her name, carved in stone.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng,

Lady magique et lady chance."