Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The eyes that greet you are kind. There is no reason to expect otherwise, but it is surprising to see it. You thought that was something that only happened in books or movies, and just like that—you feel like a character in a novel. You’re here for a story, but unexpectedly you realize that now that you have met the storyteller, you are a part of her story, or you will be one day. 

In addition to kind blue eyes, she has black hair, lightly streaked with silver. She’s waiting for you on a loveseat. You know her story isn’t new—it happened a while ago, and yet there is a youthfulness about her. She cannot be as young as she looks. The kindness in her eyes makes you think of those princesses in the books who are sweet despite some tragic backstory. Something in you understands that this woman has chosen kindness regardless of the hardships she has borne.

You take a seat across from her and she smiles warmly. "So you’ve come for a story have you? I’ve got loads of tales I could share, and more than a few I can’t.”

Excitement builds at the thought of what you will learn, the story you will get to hear. “Thank you for meeting me today. I’m writing an essay for my history of music class. I thought it would be interesting to write about the world around jazz, instead of just another summary about where it came from and what came next.”

Her smile turns a little mischievous. “Music? Oh, yes. I’ve got just the thing. It was a different time, a different world. But people don’t change, and they aren’t black and white, and neither are the rules."

It was a struggle for the scant evening sunlight to reach the dim room through the dust-encrusted windows. A single bulb hung from the center of the ceiling, and the large desk looked as if it hadn’t been moved since it was first placed in the center of the room—leaving just enough room for a couple of chairs in either side of it. There was no warmth and the only suggestion of life was the stale scent of old cigarette smoke, long gone.

A small, but beautiful woman with obvious Chinese features in her silky black hair and wide, blue upturned eyes, entered the room cautiously, gauging the space with a critical eye. The man who strode in behind her was as different from her in personality as night was from day. Tall and lithe, his large bright green eyes, golden hair, and easy smile made him seem more like a golden retriever than a man. 

He spoke excitedly with a grin that belied the gloomy space, “This place is perfect, Bugsy! All we need are a couple of lamps and a file cabinet.”

“I think it might need a thorough cleaning before anything else. The only thing close to perfection here is the cost of rent,” she replied cynically.

He drooped and turned a wounded face to his companion, his pleading eyes almost childish. 

She shook her head at him and shrugged. “Sorry, Kitty. But it’s going to take more than a lamp to make this place ready to operate.”

“C’mon M’Lady! All we need are a couple of cases under our belts, then we’ll be right as rain.”

She looked at him sideways, “You know I’m hardly a lady, Adrien.” She scoffed lightly, “A woman detective is barely considered a person.”  

“You’ll always be a lady in my eyes, Bugsy.” Adrien threw an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. “Just you and me against the seedy underbelly of the city, right Marinette?”

Marinette shrugged her shoulders and stepped back, offering a grim smile. “That’s right. Just as soon as we clean this place up and get our shingle hung.”

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Both parties were startled and turned towards the door at a sudden pounding. They were not expecting company. Adrien pulled it open and a tall imposing man didn’t hesitate before walking in, fully expecting to command attention. 

“I have a job for your little agency. But I need it done before you open your doors.”

Adrien shrunk away slightly, even though his expression brightened. On the other hand, Marinette bristled and pulled herself to her full height. “Commissioner Agreste, with all due respect, I think you’re just trying to keep Adrien under your thumb.”

He scowled at her, but she didn’t so much as flinch. 

“While I may not appreciate my son’s involvement with your little endeavor, Miss Dupain—”

“ Dupain-Cheng .” Marinette corrected instinctually—not that it was regarded. 

“—I do value your skills in this regard. We need skilled PI’s to look into something. Someone who won’t be recognized. A pair of detectives that no one knows about yet would be worth the fees the department is willing to pay.”

“Commissioner, we aren’t going to delay opening just for some ploy of yours to keep Adrien from choosing his own path.”

Adrien had been watching the discussion with a certain amount of trepidation, but he cut in, turning imploring eyes on his friend. “C’mon Bugsy, let’s hear him out. If we get a police consultation job, it’ll set us up real good to open.”

Marinette frowned at her partner, “Kitty! You will never be free from his tyranny if you keep trying to earn his approval.”

“I know, Bug, but let’s just listen. If we get hired—we’ll get it in writing—and we can still be operational, even if the public doesn’t know it yet.”

“I hate to interrupt… this,” Gabriel interjected with a dismissive wave. “I will leave these details with you.” He handed a folder to his son. “If you do not return it to me within 24 hours I will assume you are taking the case.” He pivoted and strode out of the room, leaving the duo to make their choice.

Silence followed his departure for a moment while the dust settled. Adrien looked at Marinette imploringly, a smile growing the moment her shoulders relaxed infinitesimally.

“Listen, Kitty.” Marinette placed a hand on her friend’s arm. “This is the last time, or I walk. I can’t keep watching him use you and ignore you. I certainly don’t need his approval—and you shouldn’t either.” 

“I promise, Bugsy. This is the last time.” He beamed. “We have our first case!”

“That’s something, I guess.” Marinette tugged the folder out of his hands, “Let’s see what we’re investigating.” Adrien had been her friend for a long time, certainly she owned him this much. Despite the hardships her family had faced, she would not have traded her position with Adrien for anything. Her parents were wonderful and supportive. How could she deny her long-time friend the chance to reconcile—or at least smooth things over—with his father if it was in her power to help?

Their friendship wasn’t perfect, they were different in a lot of ways, but so far it had stood the test of time. Adrien had never treated her like she was different. It took a second to shrug off the thought that he had never made allowances for their differences either—he always seemed to think that their experiences were more alike than they were.

I was six or seven when I followed a fascinating bug farther from home than ever. I had to squeeze through a wrought iron gate to keep my eyes on it.

“What are you doing?” A voice asked from above me. I looked up—losing sight of the bug—and saw the owner of the voice, a blond boy in the tree that towered above me. 

I wrinkled my nose at him. “I’m looking at bugs. What are you doing in that tree? You look like a kitty stuck up there.”

“I’m just climbing it,” the boy answered.

“That’s not how I climb trees. You’ll never get down with your feet like that.”

The boy frowned. “Maybe I don’t want to come down.”

“Alright then, Kitty.” I’d lost sight of the beetle, so I pushed some leaves and grass around with a stick, trying to find it again.

“Wait!” I looked back up. “Could you show me how you climb trees?”

“Are there any bugs up there?” I watched his eyes widen, but he looked at the trunk and nodded. “There’s some ants.”

“Oh, alright then.” I clambered up the tree, and once I was done watching the ants scurry through the craggy bark, the boy did a good job of following me back down. He asked me to come back—he wasn’t allowed to visit outside his home, and he liked playing.

It wasn't long before I started to visit regularly. Adrien wasn’t always outside when I came by, but when he was around, he never teased me for climbing trees or knowing the names of the insects we found.

It wasn’t easy looking as different as I did. My family came to America from France, but Maman is Chinese. I hadn’t been allowed to climb trees at the park, none of the other little girls ever did and Maman tried so hard to help us assimilate into American culture. I did it anyway when no one was around, but my attempts were always strained with the fear of being caught. That summer I was able to climb Adrien’s trees at will. We found loads of bugs, and I got to watch chrysalises hatch into butterflies just like in my book! Adrien's yard became my personal insect haven. For a while at least. 

Marinette didn’t know what the Commissioner had done to get his hands on the Liberty’s bank statements, but there were some things that didn’t add up on paper. Why he was hiring them to investigate a small but successful jazz club was beyond her. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but seeing as it was going to be her bread and butter as a detective, it was worth looking into. 

“Alright. Maybe there’s something here.” Marinette dropped the file onto the desk, a billowing cloud of dust the only reward for her actions. She wrinkled her nose to stave off a sneeze. “But we aren’t looking to prove anything here, we should just focus on looking for the truth.”

“We should go undercover!” Adrien exclaimed.

“Sure. One of us could work on getting intel from the inside, and one of us can do the legwork, and follow any potential leads.”

“It’s a lounge, I’ll find out if they need a pianist.”

“Good thinking, Kitty. I’ll get the Commissioner to sign our agreement.” She wanted to make sure everything was on the up and up. Commissioner Agreste was supposed to be a civil servant, but he rarely seemed to be on the side of the ‘little guy.’ Marrying one of New York’s most prominent heiresses had launched the man into the city’s elite, and as far as Marinette could tell, he’d do anything to stay on top, despite the fact that he had been widowed years ago.

“They weren’t looking for a pianist. It’ll have to be you.” Adrien flopped down onto a chair, his announcement delivered so casually that it took a second for her to realize how much she’d been counting on him finding an in.

Marinette frowned. The main reason she’d wanted her own business was because it wasn’t easy getting a job when you looked like she, or her mother, did. It was better than it had been a decade ago, but it was still far from perfect. She could likely get a spot in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t be able to see or hear what was happening in the club from a noisy spot in the back of the house. Not that Adrien would have thought of that. He’d been so sheltered, there was a lot of ugliness in the world that he didn’t even know existed. Her friend was either the most optimistic person in the world or incredibly naive. 

“The manager—Mister Couffaine—he said they needed someone with a good set of pipes,” Adrien said with a pointed look.

She glanced at Adrien and finally smiled. “Did you audition?” Marinette giggled as she poked her friend in the arm. He could tickle the ivories with the best of them—not surprising considering his upbringing—but he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.

“Of course not! I did tell them I might know someone though.” He stared at her intently.

Marinette jolted as if she’d been struck. “What—me? I’ve never performed in front of anyone!” 

“But I’ve heard you sing. You have the voice of an angel.”

Marinette considered it, feeling a little shaky at the idea. They needed an in, she should use every tool at her disposal. Respectable women didn’t perform at nightclubs. But respectable women weren’t detectives either. Good thing she wasn’t a lady. “I guess I could try. But most lounge singers aren’t chosen because they are angelic .” 

She would need to do a little shopping to supplement her largely utilitarian wardrobe if she was offered the stage. She frowned as she glanced down at her attire. Grey skirt and jacket. Pink blouse. Most of her wardobe was a variation on the same. Gray and a hint of color. Pink, blue, green, or black for specific occasions. The gray was intentional. It was a background color. Gray allowed her to be unnoticeable. If she did this, she would have to infiltrate the club while being intentionally noticeable.

Marinette had learned to blend in long before she discovered a knack for digging up secrets. When you looked like she did it was best to be invisible. American immigrants had their own upper class, their own wealthy ‘elite’ for sure. But she had never been invited to join those circles.

Chinatown had its own club scene with its own stars and starlets, and while it was common enough for the upper-class citizens of New York to visit the ‘exotic’ clubs and marvel at the talent—often shocked by the skill of anyone who didn’t look just like they did—rarely did that go both ways. Would she be welcome in a club outside of Chinatown? Would she be safe?

The building was shut and mostly dark. It was too early for an establishment like the Liberty Lounge to be open, but the sliver of weak light from under the back door suggested someone was there. Marinette didn’t know if she’d be welcome to walk through the front doors during operating hours, so she’d come by early. If someone didn’t want her around, it was better if there wasn’t a crowd. She carefully adjusted her hat, straightened her navy jacket, and rapped on the door.

“Can I help you?” The man who answered the door was large, though not as large as her Papa or the gorilla of a man who’d kept an eye on Adrien when he was younger. He didn’t look angry, but he had the kind of face that didn’t look like it smiled often.

“Is the manager in? Mister Couffaine? I’m looking for work,” Marinette asked solicitously. He nodded and held the door open politely enough, so she entered with all the dignity she could muster. 

“This way.” Marinette followed him to an unmarked door midway down a dim hall. He tapped three times before swinging it open. “Someone here to see ya, boss.”

Piercing blue eyes under midnight hair rose to meet hers before they looked up toward her escort. “Thanks, Ivan. But you’re supposed to call me Luka.”

“Doesn’t feel right when we’re working,” Ivan offered gruffly.

“We’re always working,” Mister Couffaine quipped. “And that shouldn’t matter when we’re family.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ivan turned and strode away, leaving the door open and Marinette to face Mister Couffaine. 

Marinette had no idea where to start, but Mister Couffaine made it easy for her. He walked around the desk and pulled out the chair for her. “So, what can I do for you, miss…?”

“Marinette Dupain…” She hesitated briefly to think. If she wasn’t wanted here because of her mother’s name, then holding it back wouldn’t help in the end. He wasn’t blind. And she was proud of who she was and where she came from. “Cheng.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Luka Couffaine.”

Marinette shook his offered hand and waited until he had regained his seat across from her. “I’m looking for work. I was told you might have room on your stage for a chanteuse,” Marinette told him bluntly. He had an intensity about him that came close to unnerving her. His gaze was respectful, but it hadn’t wavered from her for a second. 

“Can I ask you a question Miss Dupain-Cheng? It might come off as rather crass, but that is not my intent.”

“Of course.” She didn’t usually get a warning.

“Why here? Why not one of the clubs in Chinatown? I’m sure you would be well received.”

Marinette ducked her head for a second to take a breath. It was a good question, and luckily she had an honest answer. “That’s two questions. But the first is easy enough to answer. My friend Adrien—he’s a pianist—told me you might be looking.” 

Mister Couffaine nodded. “True enough. And the second?”

She took another careful breath; this time to weigh her words before she spoke. “I was just a child when my papa moved our family here from France. Poland had just been invaded, and Papa didn’t want us to stay in Europe. He packed us up and we immigrated to the United States quick as anything when we heard the news. New York City was very welcoming to a talented French baker and his fine bread.”

He nodded, but his expression was a mix of confusion and concern. He had to know in part what was coming.

Marinette continued, “Many people were less welcoming of his wife and daughter. We don’t look French.”

Mister Couffaine’s expression was grim now, but she didn’t stop. 

“Maman stopped teaching me Mandarin. All three of us worked on our English, Papa thought it was the key to fitting in, to assimilating. For him of course, it was easy. When it was just the two of us, Maman felt most comfortable doing her shopping in Chinatown; safer around people who looked like us. But I wasn’t allowed to learn Mandarin anymore. I can blend in in Chinatown, Mister Couffaine, but I don’t fit in. Americans look at me and see a dishwasher, the Chinese community sees a girl disconnected from tradition. Nobody, save for my parents, sees me as either French or American.” 

Mister Couffaine steepled his fingers together and nodded. “I'm sorry to hear that. People should do better."

Marinette appreciated the sentiment, but she wanted to get the focus back to her employment. "So, do I have a chance of singing for the Liberty, or should I go? If Adrien wasn't good enough…"

"Talent had little to do with it. Your friend didn't have what we were looking for. You are a striking woman, Miss Dupain-Cheng, if you sing half as  well as you look, you will do well here."

Had he intended that to be a compliment? His tone was even and honest sounding, but it wouldn’t be the first time that someone was looking for something she wasn’t willing to offer. If he was implying something untoward, then she needed to make her stance clear. 

Marinette stood abruptly, stepped back, and straightened to her full height. "I don't know what you're looking for, but if you think I'm going to do anything for this job other than sing… I'm not interested."

Mister Couffaine looked startled, but he remained seated. "No, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You misunderstand me. It's not like that. Never that. We protect our own here at the Liberty. But like I told your friend, our piano's full. If you are still interested, come by tonight at nine, and we'll see what you've got."

Marinette relaxed at his response to her assumption—thankful that that sort of thing would not be tolerated. She tensed again as the second half of his statement sunk in. "You want me to audition live, while the lounge is open?" Marinette felt suddenly very jittery. Other than Adrien's enthusiasm about her voice, she had no idea if she could be considered good enough to sing at a performance level.

"The best way to test if you're serious is to see how you do when it's crowded. That, and that's when the band is here," Mister Couffaine replied easily.

She nodded. “Alright then. Thank you, Mister Couffaine.”

He stood and walked to the open office door, “Let me introduce you to Juleka and show you the wardrobe. You are welcome to wear any appropriate evening gown, but if you don’t have anything suitable for tonight, you can use something we have on hand.”

Mister Couffaine made sure she knew her way around as he led her out of the hall and into the lounge, past the stage, and then backstage, where it was reasonably well lit. 

“Jules? Are you still back here?” He called as they walked across the wooden floor, their steps echoing hollowly. 

A tall, elegant woman in a smart gray skirt and lavender blouse appeared almost silently from a doorless closet. 

"Can you find something for Miss Dupain-Cheng to use for tonight? She'll be our songstress this evening," Mister Couffaine announced. He turned back to Marinette. “Jules will take care of you, feel free to arrange for tailoring as needed.” 

Marinette turned to the elegant woman and offered a smile. Juleka simply nodded at her, and inclining her head back to the entrance, led her inside. 

Marinette found herself surrounded by a myriad of colors and textures that felt almost dream-like in its abundance. She’d never had a reason to acquire such beautiful garments. Juleka appraised her carefully, then pointed out a rack of sleek gowns with a friendly smile that put her at ease. 

Marinette wasn’t exactly sure who Juleka was to the establishment, but she had never met someone so uncommonly quiet. She didn’t speak a word as she pulled a couple of gowns from the racks, her facial expressions seemed to be all she needed. Within short order, Marinette was leaving with a dress in hand that only needed to be shortened. The dark sequins would flash under the lights, and while it wasn’t anything close to her normal style, she thought she would be able to move easily enough in it once she’d made the necessary alterations.

The club was hopping by the time Marinette arrived shortly before nine. Ivan let her in through the back again and she made quick use of the dressing room. Marinette paused at the threshold of the front of the house, scanning the room carefully. The band on stage was good; she hoped her voice wouldn't do them a disservice when she sang. Mister Couffaine was greeting guests and Juleka was all amber eyes and silent elegance behind the bar, serving drinks with a grace and fluidity that was mesmerizing. 

The story already has you riveted when a tall man with dark salt and pepper hair enters the sunny room with one of those easygoing saunters that make you think of old black-and-white movies. He acknowledges you with a brief but friendly nod, but then his eyes are on the woman whose tale you came to hear, and his smile lights up the room. He is obviously smitten. Love stories are usually centered around young people, but that doesn’t seem to matter here. 

“Let me tell this part.”

Your interviewee apologizes for the interruption before turning to her companion. “No! No one will believe you're dark and enigmatic if you show up before the end.”

“Aw, c'mon Mari. Juleka can be dark and enigmatic. She’s better at it anyway. Please let me tell this part–you never get it right.” He finishes his request with a kiss to her cheek, and you feel a little like an intruder, yet you can’t help but be riveted by the story unfolding in front of you. 

With a long-suffering sigh, she leans into his side, letting him wrap an arm around her as he takes up the story with a smile. He leans forward in his excitement and holds your gaze intently.

“I didn’t know she’d never sung in front of a crowd before. And I wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me. This tiny, stunningly gorgeous woman took the stage—wearing my sister’s dress—and let me tell you, it never looked that good on Juleka.”

“Luka!” Marinette gasps indignantly, giving him a gentle swat to his arm.

“It’s true!” Luka insists.

She rolls her eyes at him and glances at you with an amused shake of her head. “If you're going to tell it, you have to do it right. Set the scene. Take a step back.”

“Okay, okay!” Luka turns to you and takes up the tale.

It was dim in the club, it usually was. The lounge was full and the proprietor, Luka Couffaine, hovered in a space between the back of the house and the front of the bar. He kept up a slow amble from one end to the other–always looking like he was making his way somewhere, but never arriving. Available as needed, but rarely interrupted. 

Miss Dupain-Cheng took the stage with a whisper to the surly pianist. Black and purple sequins shimmered around her form, catching the lights and the attention of everyone in the room, especially Luka’s. 

The band started “Fly Me to The Moon” and she hit her cue perfectly. Her eyes were on Luka, following his maneuvers through the club. He, unbeknownst to her, was enraptured.

Fly me to the moon,

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like on

Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

Luka swallowed hard. That was an invitation he wanted to accept. Her voice was smooth as silk, and he knew that he’d give her whatever job she wanted, so long as she stayed. 

Fill my heart with song, 

and let me sing forevermore

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

He didn't even notice he was holding his breath until she released his gaze just before she got to the line, 'I love you'–which she sang to everyone and no one. The audience was spellbound. He had found his songbird. The Liberty’s chanteuse. 

Luka felt robbed. He felt himself fall towards love at that moment and all he wanted from life was to hear her sing (or say) that she loved him in return. He needed to be careful though, more respectful than usual even. Her circumstances in life had taught her caution and distrust. He did not want Miss Dupain-Cheng to ever have reason to fear him. He tried to shake off the reverie; he didn’t even know if she was available.  

The music shifted, and Luka was treated to the most authentic rendition of “La Vie en Rose” he’d ever heard. Luka’s family hadn’t been to France since they left when he was a boy, but with one line, he was transported to the sway of the old houseboat on the Seine. The original Liberty. If he was very lucky, he would be able to talk the band into learning more French tunes. Even if it meant educating—instead of pandering to—their audience a little. 

You’re so caught up in the unexpected love story that you forget to take notes. Luckily Marinette’s voice interrupts Luka, and you are able to jot down the things you don’t want to forget.

Marinette’s voice is light and teasing. “Are you happy now?” 

Luka’s grin is as cheeky as the wink he isn’t at all subtle about. “Yes.” 

“Are you going to let me finish the story?”

His long fingers wrap around her hand and he leans close to her. “As long as I get to stay and hold your hand.”

Marinette squeezes his hand in hers with a blush, and Luke beams at you conspiratorially. “Even after all this time—she adores me.”

She is shaking her head, but she’s smiling nearly as widely as him. “Shhh. If you want to stay, you have to let me finish. In peace.”

Luka gives her a mock salute with his free hand and jokingly covers his mouth, before settling back comfortably into the loveseat. You get comfortable and turn to a fresh page and follow along as Marinette returns to the tale…

The applause was overwhelming. Cigarette haze made the dim lighting seem murky, but there was no mistaking the enthusiasm of the guests. Marinette had hoped to do well enough to avoid embarrassing herself and was a little shocked at her reception. She’d only sung two numbers, but the applause had turned to pleas for more when she turned to walk off stage. Not knowing what to do—she didn’t have more songs prepared yet—she’d hesitated, nervous about doing the wrong thing. 

Mister Couffaine was there in an instant; he took her spot at the microphone and hushed the audience with a hand. “Let’s hear it for our Songbird, Miss Marinette!” The applause swelled around them once again and Marinette felt a little lightheaded.

“Don’t worry,” he promised the house, “she’ll be back.”

The band came to life and Mister Couffaine escorted her offstage to the quiet hall that ran behind the stage. “You’ve definitely got the position if you still want it,” he offered with a smile. 

“Really?” Marinette was half incredulous. 

Mister Couffaine smiled gently. “Of course. A voice like yours would be welcome anywhere. I hope I’m a good enough businessman and musician to snatch you up before someone offers a better deal.”

She nodded, and tried to quell her excitement. The accolades were nice, the appreciation of her skill almost overshadowed the relief at getting the position she needed for the investigation. “Well, thank you, Mister Couffaine.” 

“You are very welcome, Songbird. We’ll get a schedule worked up for you. Welcome to the Liberty.”

Now that she had access to the lounge three or four nights a week, she and Adrien could find out what, if anything, the Couffaines were hiding, solve their first case and become full-fledged Private Eyes!

She couldn’t wait to tell Adrien.

Chapter Text

“Adrien, it looks so clean!” Marinette looked around their office and was astounded at the difference. The plate-glass window was clean and nearly sparkled in the mid-morning light. The desk looked like it had been polished–it was still nicked and worn, but it gleamed with new life. And the air smelled of citrus instead of stale cigarettes. 

“I couldn’t have you come back from your interview to all that dust. I’ve got chairs and a lamp coming today too!”

Marinette smiled at her friend. “I’m glad I have good news then.”

“You got it!”

“Can you believe it?” Marinette was still astounded. 

Adrien scoffed at her disbelief. “Of course I can. I’ve always known you could sing.”

“Thank you. I guess I’m just surprised that you’re not the only one who thinks so.”

Marinette pulled out the commissioner’s file on the Liberty Lounge. “Let’s make a plan. It’ll take more than getting the job to discover whatever it is that the commissioner thinks they’re hiding. I have access to the wardrobe, the stage, and the halls running behind everything. There is also a kitchen that I haven’t seen yet. As far as I can tell, the footprint of the building seems to suit the layout.” Marinette sketched a rough outline of the building and its layout to the best of her memory. 

“We have a few options. One. Your father is sending us on a wild goose chase, but that doesn’t explain the financial discrepancies he has outlined here.” 

Marinette wasn’t convinced that Gabriel wouldn’t fake intel to keep his son from partnering with an immigrant and choosing life as a working man. But she ticked off a finger and continued, “Two. Whatever is happening is going on in plain sight, but is invisible to anyone not in the know. Three. There is a significant amount of downtime when the Liberty Lounge isn’t open for business, anything could be happening then. Four. There is a secret room or even a basement we don’t know about.”

“Alright, Bugsy. You’re our man on the inside–so to speak. So I’ll hit the Municipal Archive and see if I can get a look at the blueprints. Knowing the building might narrow down those options a little.”

“I can borrow from the wardrobe for now—and popping in during off hours might help me discover something, but I need to pull together a performance wardrobe before too long.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Let me take you shopping!”

Marinette shook her head. Adrien was her best friend, but sometimes he was too friendly, and letting him buy her clothes would send the wrong message. “I’m going to make a few pieces, which will buy me more time to explore the Liberty while I borrow from the wardrobe.”

“C’mon, Mari. Let me help shop for the fabric then. It’s our first business expense!”

“I thought you bought chairs?”

“Well, sure. But this will be our first case-specific business expense.”

Marinette didn’t have the heart to refuse him. Besides he did know his way around the New York elite better than she did. His opinion on material might be beneficial.

“Alright then. Once the chairs are delivered, we can go to Monsieur Mendel Goldberg’s and see what he has in stock by way of material. But you get to pass the bill on to the commissioner for reimbursement! He wants to hire us, so he pays for the case-specific expenses.”

“I don’t know…” The red satin was gorgeous, but the look in Adrien’s eyes was more than friendly. It was besotted, which was something else she didn’t want to think about. “I don’t want to send the wrong message. I’m there to sing. Nothing else.”

“Your cover depends on fitting the part—and no one will be able to keep their eyes off of you in this.”

“Exactly. It’s a cover. I need to be able to disappear in order to investigate. I don’t need to win any awards here, Kitty. I think I should stick to darker colors…” She fingered a crushed pink velvet that seemed like it was made for a little girl. “Or maybe go for angelic. Paint the picture that I’m too sweet to be suspected of subterfuge.” 

Adrien wrinkled his nose at the pink and Marinette giggled. She liked it. It was soft and pretty, and she could definitely come up with the right design to make it seem grown-up enough. 

“Are you sure you want to go for angelic?”

“You were the one who said I sang like an angel.”

“Okay, Bugsy. You win. Get the pink. But I’m buying the red anyway. It might come in handy.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “We’ll get it, but you have to bill it as part of the case.”

Adrien grinned, acquiescing easily, and Monsieur Goldberg started cutting the material from the bolts.

In the end she had a lot of material to work with. Red and black satin, a creamy voile, the pink velvet, gold crepe, and soft swishy chiffon in a paler pink than the velvet to create a subtle contrast. If things went well, they would solve the case before she finished making half of them. 

Monsieur Goldberg was thrilled that she was buying something other than her typical suit-weight material. “You are such a lovely woman, Miss Dupain-Cheng! You deserve beautiful clothes. Like the ones you used to draw when you were little.”

Marinette smiled her thanks to the cloth merchant. But she felt a pang in her heart. Girlhood dreams did not always come to fruition. Despite the kind-hearted people in her life, the doors of fashion design had not been opened to her. She could have been a laundress, or a cloth merchant, or a seamstress without much difficulty. She could have even designed beautiful things and sold them to an ‘All-American’ designer to pass off as their own. But she could never become a designer in her own right. Not here. Not yet. At least, with this job, she could make some of her ideas into reality.

Marinette arrived early for her first full night. She wanted to learn her way around and chat with the musicians before they got started. 

Mister Couffaine nodded politely at her as she hesitated at the open door to his office. He looked relaxed, his jacket and tie draped over the back of a chair. “Good evening, Songbird. Come to get the lay of the land?”

“If that’s alright.”

“Certainly. Do you want a guide, or would you rather just wander the place?”

She would have loved free reign to explore, but that would look a little odd considering she didn’t know many of her co-workers yet. “I wouldn’t mind a few introductions before talking to the band. Then I should be alright on my own.”

Mister Couffaine rose smoothly and gestured down the hall. “We’ll start with Pierre, then I’ll hand you off to John and Juleka.”

It turned out that Pierre was the Liberty’s chef. He welcomed her to the kitchen with a wide smile and open heart. “ Bonjour! You just let me know if you need anything. I don’t let anyone in Mister Couffaine’s house go hungry.”

A sense of home washed over her. Pierre reminded her of her Papa. He was younger and smaller, but the kitchen smelled the same and his accent was similar. 

She returned his easy smile. “You are from Paris?”

“ Non. Well. Papa says I got my start in Paris, but I was born here in New York. My folks are from Paris though. I don’t speak half the French they wish I did, but I got the accent along with appreciation for good cheese.”

Marinette laughed. He was so much like her Papa. “I think our parents would find a lot to talk about.” 

Pierre waved at the stove with a grin. “I keep the kettle hot at all times, if you need a cup of tea or a splash of coffee to warm your voice, you let me know.”

“I will. Merci, Pierre.”

The stage looked far less intimidating without the bright lights reflecting off the brass and casting shadows behind the piano and band. Marinette smiled a greeting as Mister Couffaine pointed out John Blakey. He nodded, but ignored the hand she offered. John was the leader of the Liberty Band, as well as their pianist. His gruff disposition hadn’t changed since their brief meeting during her audition, and he certainly had none of Pierre’s charm. John grunted as Mister Couffaine introduced her, and Marinette made the quick decision to acquiesce to his experience—and hopefully butter him up a little. 

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mister Blakey. I hope you won’t mind making some suggestions as to my song selections. I’m just starting out you see, and I’d appreciate any guidance you might have. I have a few songs prepared, but my memory is pretty good. I can learn new things relatively quickly.” 

John’s posture relaxed a little during her greeting, “Well, Miss Marinette. I suppose I might know a thing or two.” The rest of the guys chuckled behind him and he scoffed. “First off, the guys. That’s Clyde on horn, Chuckles on the drums, and Lance on bass.” The men all tipped their hats in her direction and she smiled back at them. “As much as I appreciate the deference, the only ‘Mister’ around her is the boss. You can call me John.”

“Thank you, Mister John. Please feel free to call me Mari.”

John’s lips twitched at the edges, flashing bright teeth in contrast to his dark skin, if she had blinked, she would have missed the fleeting smile. “Oh, well. Of course Miss Mari. I’m sure we’ll get along alright. The boys and I will do whatever we can to make you shine.”

She handed off the music she’d brought along for the evening and John nodded as he scanned them. “These are pretty simple.”

“Please feel free to play them however you like. So long as we keep the key the same.”

John smiled for real that time. “We can do a once-through before Mister Couffaine opens the doors, make sure we all sound our best and do the Liberty proud.”

“Thank you.”

When Marinette turned back to Mister Couffaine, he looked bemused. He gestured with an open hand toward the back of the house where the bar was and they began to navigate their way around the circular tables as they headed back. 

“Never in my life have I seen someone win John over that quickly,” Mister Couffaine said with a sideways glance at her. “All my people are loyal, but I think he might just take your side if you decided to stage a mutiny.” 

It took a second for Marinette to muster a response. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What is it about you, Miss Dupain-Cheng, that inspires such trust and affection?”

“I assure you, the feeling is new to me. I think that maybe you have particularly good people here at the Liberty.”

He nodded and smiled at the compliment to his staff, and Marinette admired the way he seemed to appreciate praise about his employees.

She thought back to the silence the night Juleka had provided her with a dress. “Although, I’m not entirely sure Miss Juleka shares your opinion.” 

Mister Couffaine stopped and turned to her. “My sister takes a while to warm up to people, but I assure you, she doesn’t have anything against you. She’s quiet for sure. But that’s just her way.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. She hadn’t known what Juleka’s relationship to Mister Couffaine was, they had seemed remarkably familiar with each other. So, she was his sister. She considered the quiet woman who had offered her a dress. Her Maman was quiet, every word she shared was thought out and seemed full of wisdom. Maybe Juleka was one of those quiet deep people. 

“When Jules isn’t backstage, she’s here at the bar.” Marinette shifted her attention from Mister Couffaine to Juleka, who offered a shy wave and responded in kind. 

“Good evening, Miss Couffaine.” Juleka’s dark hair danced around her as she shook her head quickly and wrinkled her nose. Marinette smiled. “Juleka, then.”

When Juleka nodded, apparently satisfied, Mister Couffaine straightened his shirt. “I’ll leave you two to get ready for the evening. See you on the floor.” 

Juleka gestured toward the stage and the women headed backstage to get ready for another night. Marinette accepted the royal blue gown that Juleka offered her. It was simple and elegant and it fell to the floor in a smooth waterfall of shimmering satin.

Marinette slipped the dress on and turned to Juleka, she was the expert around here. "Is my hair alright? Or should I change it?"

Juleka looked at her for just a second before pointing her to the vanity. Marinette took a seat, relaxed her shoulders, and smiled when Juleka's hand hovered near her hair for a second. "Do whatever you want. I'm in your house now, and trust you help me do the Liberty justice."

Juleka beamed at her before diving in and it took very little time to realize that she couldn't be in better hands. Less than an hour later she looked like a new woman. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and her makeup made her look like a starlet. Juleka hadn't tried to hide her more notable features, but she looked softer somehow.

"Juleka, you are a genius. I look like a film star."

The quiet girl shrugged, but a blush gave her away and Marinette decided she needed to be complimented often. Juleka was skilled and deserved to know it.

Marinette slipped past the curtain to go over the set with the band while Juleka finished getting ready. Soon, Mister Couffaine reappeared, tie and jacket in place to open the double doors. "Alright, Liberty Crew, let's have a good night." 

“Pierre, this bread is almost as good as my Papa’s. Do you make it here?”

“Ah, non . I can bake well enough, but I couldn’t keep up with the baking and the cooking in a place like this. The Boss gets the bread from Jack Baker’s place. They’re good people.”

Marinette liked spending time in the kitchen between sets. Pierre always had a cup of tea for her, and he gossiped like an old woman. If anyone other than the Couffaines themselves knew what was going on in the Lounge, it would be Pierre.

“Old Jack gave Miss Juleka a ride home once. His bakery wasn’t doing so good in those days, but he’s a good guy. Captain Anarka was so grateful that she started getting our bread from them and hasn’t ever looked elsewhere.”

“Captain?”

“Oh! Right. You won’t have met her yet. The Captain is the boss’ ma. This here is her place, only now that Mister Couffaine runs it, she isn’t around so much. She’s got a wandering foot, that one.”

“And his father?”

Pierre shook his head. “I wasn’t here before he left, but I’ve met him when he visited once or twice. He’s nice enough, but he went west to seek his fame and fortune in Hollywood while Miss Juleka was still a babe. Made a name for himself, but it can be awkward when he visits. He cares for Miss Juleka and Mister Couffaine all right, but his music is more his family than the people here.” He sighed, but brightened quickly and winked at her. “Everyone under this roof is family, and we take care of each other. You’ll see.”

When the kitchen was too busy during her brief tea breaks between sets, Marinette liked to watch Juleka behind the bar. Juleka was uniquely graceful and obviously respected. Though she never spoke a word, her expressions seemed to say enough to convey anything she needed. She made and poured drinks with a thoughtful sort of fluidity that made Marinette a little jealous, though any negative feelings were tempered by their slow-growing friendship. Marinette wasn't nearly as clumsy as she'd been as a kid, but she knew that Juleka's grace wasn't something that could be learned.

One night Marinette forwent her usual tea and slipped into an open seat at the bar. Juleka delivered a martini to a waiting customer before she turned to her with a silent smile. "Can I get a Shirley Temple?"

Juleka smirked, gesturing at the ample alcoholic options in a clear offering.

"Thanks, but I don't drink while I'm working. Or when I have to wait on a street corner to get a taxi home after midnight."

Juleka nodded in understanding and made her drink smoothly, offering it with all the finesse she would normally use for a customer. Marinette accepted with a grateful smile and Juleka scanned the bar before leaning close to her with a raised brow. Puzzled, Marinette scanned the area, but everything looked as it always did. She turned back to Juleka who inclined her head toward her brother with a suggestive brow and questions shining in her eyes.

Heat climbed up her cheeks and an obviously flustered Marinette shook her head, keeping her eyes firmly on her drink. "Me and Mister Couffaine? No!"

Juleka crossed her arms in disbelief and leveled her with a look of pure exasperation. Marinette struggled to find the right words. "He's very handsome. And nice. But Juleka–he's my boss! I can't. Couldn't! He would never. I—I'm just here to sing."

Marinette looked up to gauge Juleka's reaction and was met with laughing eyes. She tapped her watch with a smirk and turned to help another customer. Her meaning was clear. It was only a matter of time. Marinette chanced a look at Mister Couffaine; Luka —some part of her insisted—but turned her head away again when she found him looking in her direction. The last thing she needed was for him to see her blush. Or to fall for a suspect in an investigation. What kind of Private Eye fell for a potential criminal on their first job?!

Darn, Juleka. How dare she make her think about things she was trying to avoid.

“Hey Miss Mari. Take a look at this one, will you?”

Marinette took the sheet music from John with a smile, and she glanced at the title—”C'est Si Bon.”

“Oh! In the original French?”

“Yeah, a request from the boss.”

Marinette blushed; she still found it easiest to sing while watching Luka from her place on the stage. The idea that he paid her enough attention to request specific songs warmed her cheeks. 

“Then, I guess we better do a good job of it then.”

It was nice. Homey. Like singing along with her Papa to the record player while she watched her parents dance on Sunday evenings when the bakery was closed. The second verse made her blush and look away from Luka while she sang, glad he didn’t speak French. She wondered why he had chosen the song.

En voyant notre mine ravie¹
Les passants, dans la rue, nous envient
C'est si bon, de guetter dans ses yeux
Un espoir merveilleux, qui me donne le frisson
C'est si bon, ces petites sensations
Ça vaut mieux qu'un million
Tellement, tellement c'est bon

Juleka’s recent teasing didn’t help her nerves, but the soft look in Luka’s eyes when she finished the song helped her to relax in spite of herself. She was glad he seemed to enjoy it.

Ivan was frowning, his eyebrows pinched in worry, when Marinette arrived. “Boss wants a word.” 

Marinette turned toward the office, but Ivan gestured toward the kitchen. Perplexed, Marinette made her way to Pierre’s domain where the chef spotted her first.

“It’s terrible! Poor Jack and Norma. They don’t deserve this. Merde !”

Marinette turned to Luka, confused, “What happened?”

Relieved blue eyes fell on her. “You’re early. That’s a blessing. There was a fire over at the Baker’s place. Nobody was hurt, but we don’t have bread for tonight, and it might take a bit to get them up and running again. Listen, this is above and beyond, but would your folks be likely to have anything to help us tonight?”

Marinette nodded slowly, “I think so. It was slow today. I guess it depends on what Pierre needs.”

Luka turned to the chef, but Pierre was still muttering about the unfairness of the world. “Make a list, Pierre. Miss Dupain-Cheng might be able to give us a hand tonight. And make a note of our regular order. We can see if Monsieur Dupain is willing to help us out for a week or two.” His eyes looked questioningly at Mari and she nodded at the unspoken question. 

“Would it be alright for Ivan to take you home and bring you back with the bread? The band can keep the early birds entertained until you’re ready to go on.”

“Of course.”

Luka nodded pointedly at Ivan, but paused on his way out, leaning close to the large man, but Marinette heard his quiet instructions. “Make sure the Bakers still get paid. I won’t have them in need while we have an agreement with them. Fire or no. Besides, I’m sure Jack’ll send something delicious later.”

Ivan stopped at the Baker’s bakery on their way and Marinette was shocked at the damage. The scent of burned bread, charred wood, and hot stone lingered in the wet street—where tin pails still rested after fighting the blaze. Blackened bricks stood out against an otherwise well-kept row of businesses, but at least it looked to have been contained quickly. She gave the area a cursory once over while Ivan spoke to Jack, handing him an envelope. 

No matter what the Couffaines might be hiding, Marinette found it hard to believe it was anything bad. She didn’t know why Gabriel had started this witch hunt, but even after only a couple weeks of their company, Marinette thought that she would happily throw her lot in with the Liberty crew. 

The back of her neck prickled when she heard the neighbors talking. Words like “sabotage,” ”protection,” and “akuma” were bandied about in hushed tones. Was the fire not an accident? What was an “akuma"? Her PI senses tingled, and she filed away the words for later.

Tom Dupain was only too happy to help them out. “Half-off for today’s bread! Saves me from putting so much day-old bread out tomorrow. And we can help out going forward for a bit… yeah, I think we could do that. You let Mister Couffaine know he can count on us.”

Ivan and Marinette made it back with the bread for Pierre in plenty of time and the night was saved. And if the gears in Marinette’s head were turning, no one in the audience seemed to notice.

With her mind preoccupied, Marinette didn’t notice that ever since he had met her parents, Ivan seemed to be watching her almost as intently as Luka was wont to.

Marinette stopped by the lounge early the next morning to deliver the bread for the day. It felt too early after her late night, but this was the standard delivery hour. 

“Who’re you?” There was a wild-haired boy with warm brown eyes studying her from the step.

She smiled sleepily. “I’m Marinette.”

“Pleased to meet ya! I’m Lucky.” The boy, who couldn’t be more than twelve, held up several large bottles of milk. “We always deliver to Mister Couffaine first—he gets the best.” 

She grinned at the obvious hero worship. “Oh, why’s that?” 

“Well, on account of how he saved Da’s life that one time.”

“That sounds like an interesting story.”

That was all it took to get Lucky talking. “Ma was real sick. She was bad off and Da could’na afford the medicine. But he loves my Ma! I was real little, and I was useless ta help, see. Anyway, Da borrowed some money, but the men what lent it to him were bad men and did’na wanna wait for him to pay ‘em back. They tried to hurt my Da, but the Captain and Mister Couffaine—they did’na let ‘em! He sorted it all out, an’ now they get all their dairy from our farm. They’re square now, o’ course. But Da and Ma—she’s doing better now—they give him a little discount… but you can’t be mentioning that! He would’na like it.”

Marinette was completely smitten with the winsome boy by the time he had finished his rambling story. “I can keep a secret, seeing as it's nothing bad.” 

“Gee! Thanks. You’re real pretty miss! What’re ya doin’ here at the Liberty?” 

Marinette couldn’t stop the smile that overtook her face. This kid was adorable. “Usually, I sing. But this morning, I’m making a delivery—just like you.”

“Yeah? Whadda ya got?”

“Bread.” 

Lucky frowned, “I thought Eli delivered for the Bakers.” 

“I’m sure he does. But something went wrong,” Marinette hesitated, she didn’t want to scare the kid with news of the fire, “and they were short today. My folks own a bakery, so Mister Couffaine ordered the extra from us.”

“That’s swell! Do you get to eat all the bread you want, like Eli?”

“I guess I do. Do you get all the milk you want?”

“Boy, do I! I share some wi’ the cats too, they like me the best an' always show me where the kittens ‘r hidin’…”

The door swung open and a smiling Luka greeted them, obviously having heard the last bit of Lucky’s enthusiastic story. 

“Morning Lucky, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” 

It didn’t take long for Lucky to deposit his delivery in the icebox, chattering the whole time. He told Mister Couffaine about the newest batch of kittens on the farm and was rewarded with an orange for a job well done. “Gee! Thanks, Mister Couffaine!” Lucky took off to finish his deliveries and Luka turned to Marinette.

“You didn’t have to deliver it yourself, or so early! Pierre doesn’t come in till after lunch.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure when he got in. Papa insisted I bring it at the same time as the rest of our deliveries. I had a few other errands anyway, so I don’t mind too terribly.”

“Thank you, but let’s make other arrangements—at least on the mornings after you sing. I’d hate to be responsible for running you ragged.”

Marinette smirked. “Do I look all that bad?”

Luka straightened quickly, mild panic crossing his face. “No! You’re lovely. I just…” He paused. “You're teasing me.”

She laughed. “Sorry. Yes, I am. I do appreciate the offer though, I wouldn’t mind getting a little more sleep.”

She bid Luka a good morning and turned to leave. Ivan stopped her on her way out, his hat was in his hand and he was twisting it nervously. “Could I ask you something, Miss Mari?”

She smiled up at the big man. “Sure, Ivan.”

“It’s my wife.” Ivan blushed. “She’s—we’re—gonna have a baby.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s wonderful!”

He nodded, but he was still torturing his hat. “Mylène’s a lot smaller than me. We only found out a few days ago, and I can’t stop worrying; thinking about how little she is. But, I saw your folks. I just wondered… Do you think she’ll be alright?”

She patted his arm with a smile. “I don’t see why she wouldn't be. Why don’t you and Mylène join us for dinner one day this week? Maman would love to talk with Mylène, I’m sure of it. And, Ivan? I can already tell you’re going to be a wonderful Papa.”

Relief seemed to settle over him like a shroud, but he still hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

Marinette shook her head quickly. “Please? Maman likes to mother-hen people; she needs more little chicks in her life. I think she’d be truly delighted to meet your wife.”

Ivan nodded, finally relinquishing the stranglehold he had on his poor hat. “Thank you.”

“I can’t wait to meet Mylène. Sunday?”

Another nod. Then he was gone. Marinette couldn’t wait to tell her parents. They loved taking care of people. Cooking for people. She knew they would love being a source of peace for Ivan and his wife. Her Maman especially would appreciate being able to share any advice or wisdom with the mother-to-be.

Marinette spun around in the chair behind the desk lost in thought, but stopped quickly, they weren’t kids playing at being detectives anymore. “It doesn’t make sense, Kitty. If the Couffaines are up to something, they hide it behind being the nicest people alive. I need to talk to the Commissioner.” 

Adrien frowned. “You haven’t seen anything?”

“He’s paying double for bread because of a fire he had no part in, simply because he wanted to take care of his supplier. There is a mystery there though. Have you heard the word ‘akuma’ before?”

Marinette watched the wheels turn in Adrien’s head. 

“Akuma… that sounds familiar. Hold on… It’s a gang! One of those protection rackets. I heard Commander Ciccotelli talking about it. He wanted Father to authorize a special unit to put a stop to them before it gets out of hand. Ciccotelli usually deals with big time crime families, so I was surprised he was involved. I don’t think the gang has been around very long.”

“I’ll ask about that too, then.”

“What does it have to do with the Liberty?”

“Maybe nothing. But it might have. I heard someone talking about sabotage after the bakery fire. And maybe it has nothing to do with the Liberty, but it could. The fire had an impact on everyone who gets their bread from the Bakers.”

“Alright, Bugsy. Want me to come with you?”

Marinette sighed. Adrien hated being caught in the middle. “Do you want to come?”

He shook his head. “Not if you don’t need me. I think it’ll be more fun to be a PI when we aren’t working for my Father.”

“You and me both. Let’s get this job done.”

“Aye-aye, Mari!”

“I can’t fit through there anymore, Kitty.” The iron bars of the fence had been getting progressively tighter as I grew, and I was terrified I was going to get stuck.

“Oh.” Adrien frowned and looked around. “I can reach the latch on the gate now! I’ll just let you in.”

I grinned and followed him around the property to the gate near the front of the house. I hadn’t ever been so close to the house before. The trees and shrubs weren’t as close together and the lawn looked more manicured. There weren’t nearly as many bugs either. The deeper recesses of the yard were certainly preferable. 

Adrien could just reach the latch, so I waited patiently as he worked to release it while he teetered on his toes. 

“What’s going on here?” I jumped back from the gate with a squeak as a voice boomed out, startling Adrien so much that he would have fallen if he wasn’t clinging to the iron bars of the towering gate, it swung open and Adrien worked to steady it as a tall, stern looking man came into view. 

Adrien’s father was tall, like her Papa, but small too—like a good wind could knock him over. He didn’t smile. My papa always looked happy, this man looked like he didn’t know what happiness felt like.  

“Adrien, who is this?”

“This is my friend, Marinette, Father. We play in the yard.”

The man’s frown deepened, and Adrien began stuttering out an explanation, “Her parents are French! She helps me with my French lessons, Father.”

I frowned at his explanation. I didn’t fully understand why it bothered me so much. I was old enough to know that there were a lot of people who treated my mother and I differently, but Adrien had never seemed like one of them, but even he knew that I would be better received by his Father as a tutor than as a friend. 

I was petty and refused to speak in English for my next several visits to punish him a little. Adrien apologized sincerely, and his French did improve rapidly due to my little punishment. Eventually, the hurt died down, and we resumed our play, but I never felt quite as comfortable visiting Adrien after that. Part of me was worried that Mister Agreste would appear out of nowhere and make me feel unwelcome. Adrien wasn’t my only friend back then. There were kids at the immigrant school I spent a little time with, chief among them was Kagami, and if she had had more spare time Adrien would have seen less of me.

Despite his position as Commissioner of Police, Marinette was not accustomed to seeing police officers leave the Agreste Manor—though that could be because she rarely visited the house itself, having always played with Adrien in the expansive yard instead. Gabriel was clearly annoyed at having to make stilted introductions when Officer Timothy Jones left as she arrived. Young Officer Jones seemed tense as well, but that could likely be explained away by his boss’ mood. 

Adrien’s childhood nickname for her—Bugsy—never felt more apropos than when Gabriel Agreste looked down on her. She felt small and insignificant, and his disdain was obvious. 

“Miss Dupain. What can I do for you?”

She bristled, “Dupain- Cheng .”

He glowered at her, but she held her ground, even though his words were scathing. “I hardly think the use of your mother’s name benefits you.” 

Marinette couldn’t stop the snort. “You use your late wife’s influence to navigate society despite your own humble beginnings, and yet you think it’s unbecoming for me to acknowledge my mother?”

“It’s hardly the same thing. Why are you here?”

She brushed his rudeness aside and focused on the mission. “I don’t know what you expect us to find. I’m willing to bet you have cops more underhanded than the people at the Liberty.”

“I gave you records of financial discrepancies.”

“The Liberty does business with a lot of families, the extra income could be coming from anywhere. It isn’t enough for this level of suspicion.”

“You are working there, correct?”

She nodded curtly. “Yes.”

“Pay attention to the patrons. I keep hearing the name circulating amongst the elite, there is something there, I am sure of it.”

Marinette couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He had them investigating a business because New York’s upper crust was going out without him? 

“You’re jealous! You don’t like being left out of society parties and want us to attack an innocent business simply because your ‘friends’ haven't invited you out for drinks?!”

He scowled at her. “This has little to do with petty jealousy, Miss Dupain. Watch. The. Patrons.” 

Gabriel flung open the door and gestured for her to leave. Apparently, the ‘interview’ was over. She sensed that Gabriel had something personal against the Couffaines, she just didn’t know what it was yet. For now, she would watch the patrons as he had suggested. Whatever Gabriel wanted her to find was a good place to start, then she could figure out what he didn’t want her to find.

1.Seeing our delighted face Passers-by in the street envy us
It's so good to look into his eyes
A wonderful hope, which gives me the shivers
It's so good, these little sensations
It's better than a million
So, so it's good
return to text

Chapter Text

“ Bonjour, Mademoiselle Marinette—can I ask a question?” Marinette turned to see Pierre, appraising her. 

“What can I do for you?” She and Pierre got along well, and he always had a warm plate ready to be filled for any of the staff, including the musicians. It certainly didn’t hurt that he gossiped like an old woman. She couldn’t help but like him.

“Your family lives over near Chelsea, yes?”

“Oui, that’s right.”

“Have you, or maybe your folks, been asked to, uh, assist the police fund for extra patrols?” Pierre looked nervous, barely meeting her eyes, and Marinette’s detective senses blared like an alarm.

“Not that I know of, Pierre. That sure doesn’t sound right.”

Pierre nodded. “My folks own a little bistro over there—Papa’s the reason I know my way around a kitchen. Anyhow, they’ve been stressed lately and they told me that things have been tight. They said the extra police patrol costs were wearing on them.”

“What are the patrols for? Did they say?”

“It’s supposed to protect them from some kind of protection racket. There was talk of organized gang activity—they were calling themselves the Akuma, or something like that.” Pierre shrugged, but the casual motion didn’t dispel the concern in his eyes.

Her spine stiffened at the word. Akuma. She had tried to look into that word after the fire at the Baker’s place but hadn’t come up with much beyond Adrien’s intel, and her conversation with Gabriel had been cut short before she could question him. The only other thing she had found was that it sounded a lot like the Japanese word for ‘demon.’ Could organized crime be hiding behind Japanese words? After the war, it would be an effective way of scaring people.

Marinette knew that whatever was going on there—it wasn’t right. “I’ll ask my parents if they’ve heard anything. Are you sure it was really the brass?”

“Mama said he had a badge and everything—but it wasn’t just some beat cop—it was the commissioner himself.”

“Commissioner Agreste?” Marinette was dumbfounded, what was Gabriel up to? The city should cover all police expenses, and why would Gabriel be asking for police funds in person—unless he didn’t want someone to know about it? 

“Oui , Monsieur Agreste himself.”

Marinette understood why Pierre was so concerned. Even if it wasn’t legal, there wasn’t much anyone could do to fight back against the man in charge of the law.

Whether or not this Akuma business had anything to do with the Liberty specifically, she wanted to get to the bottom of it. It was a much more interesting case than the witch hunt Gabriel had them on.

“I don’t see what these rumors have to do with the case, Bugsy.”

“C’mon Adrien, let’s just look around. I’ll feel better once we rule it out.” Marinette couldn’t let go of the idea that the supposed protection gang was somehow connected to their case.

“Whatever you say, Mari.” Adrien paid the taxi driver and they exited the cab under a cool gray sky to look around the neighborhood where the Baker family had suffered the fire. The repairs were coming along quickly, though one alley still had the charred remains of old beams piled up in it. 

“What a mess. Wouldn’t it be easier to move?”

Marinette rolled her eyes at her well-to-do friend. “Maybe. If they had the money to do so. Not everyone can start over when things get dicey. Not to mention, this is their place of business, and they are known here. It would be hard to start up in a new neighborhood. Let’s split up, we don’t want people to feel outnumbered. I’ll work my way through the market and you head towards the clothing district.”

Adrien saluted, garnering a laugh. “See you soon!”

Marinette was admiring fruit at an open-air stall in the bustling market, hoping to pick up chatter before dropping in on the Bakery to ask them about the incident directly when she heard a shout. 

“I did’na take anything, mister! Lemme go! I ain’t no thief!” Lucky’s voice rang out and a dropped apple rolled across the aisle and stopped at her feet. Marinette snatched up the apple and rushed to interfere. She’d only met the lad once, but she wasn’t about to see him harmed.

“I’m sick of seeing you troublemakers sniffing around my produce!” The man shouted and raised his hand towards the boy.

“Stop!” Marinette shouted angrily.

Startled, the merchant turned away from Lucky who bolted, and grabbed her by the wrist. “So the kid has a cohort, does he?” He eyed her with distaste. “You supposed to be a distraction while the boy gets away with the goods?”

What a wretched man. How dare he suggest anything of the sort. Just because she wasn’t about to let someone beat a child didn’t mean she was in cahoots with underaged criminals.

“Of course not,” she spat indignantly, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. “He’s a good boy, and you're nothing but a bully.”

He gripped her tighter and she winced. “Well, your little partner in crime ran off on you, so I guess I’ll have to take my ire out on you.”

Marinette braced herself for whatever the man thought was a fitting punishment for her non-existent crime when a voice behind her wrapped her in a feeling of safety.

“Jeb. You’ll want to unhand the lady.”

“This ain’t no lady, she’s just another thieving Chi—”

“Jebediah,” Luka’s voice was cold and harsh, and the man dropped Marinette’s wrist with a scowl. “You best be careful how you finish that thought.”

“She interfered with my business.”

Marinette stepped closer to Luka, putting space between her and the irate produce man, but she was angry and hurled her own accusation back at him, “You threatened Lucky!

Luka stepped between her and Jeb. “Lucky works for me. If you’ve a problem with him, you take it up with me.”

Jeb’s jaw worked angrily for a moment before he responded, “Sure thing, Mister Couffaine.” His grudging respect for Luka clearly didn’t extend to Lucky or herself, however, and he stomped back to his place with a glare in her direction. The moment his back was turned, Lucky popped up with shining eyes.

“Gee! Mister Couffaine! Yer a hero, rescuing Miss Mari like that!” 

Luka ruffled his hair with a wry grin. “Thanks for fetching me. Now git along with you.” Lucky dashed away with a saucy grin, and Marinette turned to thank Luka.

“Are you alright?” His voice was gruff, but concerned.

She shrugged. Her wrist hurt, but she was more or less fine. Luka studied her face for half a second before reaching for her hand. He was cradling her wrist before she could find the words to negate his concerns. 

“You’re already bruising. Damn him.”

It was nice that he cared. “Thanks to you, Mister Couffaine, it’s not as bad as it could have been. I can wear gloves to sing—”

“This has nothing to do with how you look, Miss Dupain-Cheng!” She flinched and Luka exhaled. “I’m sorry. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

She chuckled wryly and pulled her hand back. “I guess I can appreciate that.”

Luka took a breath and smiled at her. “So, what brings you here? Doesn’t Chelsea have its own grocers?”

Marinette made a snap decision. Whoever the Akuma were involved with, she didn’t think Luka was part of the problem—the only connection there was Gabriel’s inane suspicions. Maybe he knew something that would help.

“I keep hearing this word—Akuma. I’ve figured out that it’s some new gang. Pierre’s family is paying some kind of protection money to the police because of these Akuma, and I overheard some people talking when Ivan stopped by the day of the fire. I was curious.”

Luka’s eyebrows shot up. “And you decided to investigate on your own?”

Marinette shrugged, “I was worried. My parents’ bakery isn’t far from Pierre’s folks, and my friend Adrien heard his father speaking to a police commander about the problem. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.”

He sighed but looked oddly pleased. “I’m doomed to be surrounded by intelligent women who can’t leave well enough alone.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luka smiled hesitantly. “It means you’d make a good Couffaine.”

Something warm and fuzzy flooded her veins and heated her cheeks, and Marinette accepted Luka’s offer to escort her while she asked her questions. 

It wasn’t long before Luka was as invested as she was. Many of the small business owners admitted to being threatened by a member of the Akuma gang shortly before the police arrived to warn them of that very concern. The story was the same for everyone. The police said they were working on it, but they were short-staffed and didn’t have the budget to keep patrols up. However, if they made a donation to the NYPD, they would ensure that the area was protected by beat cops to keep an eye on things. Commissioner Agreste’s offer was a better deal than the ‘protection’ offered by the Akuma and they all took it. The Baker family was the only exception, and it looked as if they had paid the price.

“M’Lady!” She had nearly forgotten that Adrien had come with her. She felt suddenly awkward with both Luka and Adrien present at the same time.

“Adrien. You remember Mister Couffaine?”

Adrien smiled, but it held a trace of something dark. A look she wasn’t used to seeing on his usually sunny face. “Right, of course. The guy who already has a pianist.” 

“John Blakey has been with the Liberty since before me. I hope there aren’t any hard feelings.”

Marinette tensed at Adrien’s forced scoff; his attitude was going to be a problem if he didn’t rein it in. “Of course not, you gave my good friend Mari a job, so you’re alright in my book.” 

“So, what did you find, Kitty?” Her voice was too bright for the situation, but she was struggling to think of a better way to relieve the tension.

“Uhh…” Adrien glanced at Luka with a puzzled expression.

“It’s okay. Mister Couffaine helped me ask a few questions as well. He has friends in the area that have been affected by this Akuma gang.”

“Right, well. As far as I can tell it’s only established businesses that have been affected. A member or two of the gang shows up and strongly suggests they pay protection—only giving a day or two for them to respond. None of them reported it to the police before a member of the NYPD showed up to tell them that they knew about the threat, and would up patrols in the area.”

Marinette blinked. The police sounded good when you put it that way. “Did they say who contacted them?”

Adrien smiled, seemingly proud. “Commissioner Agreste, he’s looking out for everyone.”

Adrien’s father. Of course. Adrien might not be famous, but he had been seen during campaigns often enough to be recognizable as the Commissioner’s son. No one would want to open up to him if they thought any negativity would get back to Gabriel.

Luka frowned. “Did they mention padding the police budget in exchange for the extra patrols?”

Adrien shook his head, “Of course not! I didn't even ask. That would be illegal. Practically bribery.”

Marinette’s mind sifted through the facts of the two cases and her farewell to Luka was more than a little distracted as Adrien hailed a cab to take them back home. Gabriel wanted her to find something on the Liberty, but so far all she had found was that Gabriel seemed to be mixed up in something far from legal. How did he know about the gang threats before anything happened? How did he know where to go? No one who hadn’t been approached by the gang had seen Gabriel, so it wasn’t a blanket approach. His visits were deliberate. Was Gabriel playing both sides? And if so, how could she find proof?

She had been right. Maman had been thrilled to take Mylène under her wing. Supper had gone beautifully and Mylène had endeared herself to her parents for life by asking if they would ever be willing to share their recipes. Papa had dispelled Ivan’s fears with a little good-natured ribbing and by telling him how terrified he’d been. Then he had simply pointed at his little family and said, “They are perfect, no? Don’t fret. And if you can’t help it, use the worry to make something for the little one. Marinette had enough cradles for three babies by the time she arrived.” He waggled his eyebrows for a second. “Or get something nice for the little Mama, you have to keep the wife happy after all!”

Mylène and Mari had hit it off pretty well too, and Marinette spent the next few weeks sewing a handful of pretty little baby blankets and tiny clothes for her new friend. It felt good to use her skills to make someone smile. 

The Bruels became frequent visitors to the little apartment above the bakery, and Marinette basked in the feeling of her family growing. Pierre had been right. The Liberty was more like a family than a business.

As her new friendships unfolded it bothered her a little that Adrien didn’t feel like family. They had been friends for the longest time. Was it simply because his father was so cold and distant, or was it something else?

Adrien wasn’t my first or only friend growing up. I went to an immigrant school that included a girl from Japan. Her mother was considerably more strict than mine, and it was rare for us to be allowed to play together outside of our lessons. But one day, Mrs. Tsurugi asked Maman and Papa if she could spend the afternoon with us after school. It was my chance to introduce my friends to one another. 

“C’mon Kagami! I’ll show you where I climb trees.” 

I knew of course that Kagami was far too proper to climb with me, but she did enjoy all my bug facts. Science was an acceptable pursuit by her standards. 

“Marinette, wait!” I froze halfway through the iron fence that was the only thing separating us from Adrien’s yard and my own tree-climbing, bug-hunting oasis.

“What’s wrong ‘Gami?”

“That is a private residence. You know we cannot go in there.”

I wriggled the rest of the way through and turned back to her. “My friend lives here! It’s okay, as long as we don’t bother the house.”

“Why?” 

Adrien popped out of the shrubs that bordered the fence. “Father doesn’t like me to have fun. He doesn’t think it’s edifying or useful to my education.” 

Kagami frowned. “Marinette. If we are not welcome here, we should go.”

“You can stay, Bugsy! It’s my house too, I won’t let Father stop you from coming over.”

I was conflicted. I had hoped my friends would like each other. Both of them had strict parents and both of them liked playing with me. I thought it would be easy. But Kagami had her own sense of right and wrong.

“Mother wouldn’t like me to visit uninvited,” Kagami insisted. And she was right. I hadn’t considered our visit from Mrs. Tsurugi’s point of view, and I wanted Kagami to be allowed to play with me again. 

I frowned and shrugged. “Sorry Adrien, I’ll play another day.” I wriggled back through the fence.

“Just because she doesn’t want to come over doesn’t mean you have to leave!”

I didn’t like feeling torn, like I had to choose. “I’m playing with Kagami today, I won’t ask her to do something that will get her in trouble, Kitty.”

“I thought we were friends.” I turned to Adrien, surprised by his tone. As if I had betrayed him somehow. 

“We are.” It took me a second to figure out what I wanted to say, to realize what he needed to know. “But I can have more than one friend.”

I’m still not sure Adrien ever learned to share.

Despite the fact that I was bothered by the way my friends hadn’t gotten along, Kagami and I had fun that day. She let me French braid her hair and she taught me how to write tomodachi in the pretty characters that her grandfather used for his letters. I still have the card with the two characters on it tucked away in the pages of my favorite book somewhere. It was far from perfect, but sharing tiny pieces of our ancestral heritage was something we both liked to do. There was something special in the differences that made us the same.

Every time Marinette stepped onto the stage, she felt a little as if she was stepping outside of herself. It was as if the music, gown, and lights transformed her. On stage, she was no longer just Immigrant Detective Marinette, she was also Luka’s Songbird. And it was Luka who kept her from flying to pieces. The sight of so many eyes staring at her after years of trying so hard to be invisible was deeply unnerving. But Luka, who moved with a casual elegance through the room, was safe to look at. Marinette could relax when she saw his smile, his polite regard for the guests was a gentle reminder that it was her job to help ensure they had a good night. 

It wasn’t until she was halfway through her second song of the night that she realized that Luka was watching her as intently as she was watching him. Had he been paying that much attention while she sang “Blue Skies”? Or was it only now that she was singing of love?

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you

You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you

I see your face in every flower

Your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you

Her heart hammered as she approached the final refrain. The moment felt too intimate, and she ripped her eyes from his face before the last line. 

The very thought of you, my love

She let it loose above the crowd and was careful to avoid meeting any eyes to see how it settled. With a gentle inclination of her head, she acknowledged the applause and slipped off stage. There was enough time to grab a cup of tea from Pierre before her next set. Hopefully, it would relax her voice and settle her nerves as well as her heart.

Marinette was just leaving the stage after the final song of her last set when she recognized a guest. Someone she knew, but had never met. Arthur Haughton Jr. was one of the better-known millionaires in the city. Adrien’s father had mentioned him more than once. Gabriel had been welcomed into the arms of the upper crust when he married Emilie, but now that she had passed, he had been all but relegated to the sidelines and resented it. Was he trying to take down his ‘old friends’ after all this time? 

In the whirlwind of applause and making a graceful exit from the stage, Marinette lost track of him, but even once she’d gotten her bearings again, she couldn’t find him. He had been headed toward the coat check. Where could a well-known millionaire hide in a lounge? Her skin tingled with the mystery. She still didn’t know what Gabriel wanted her to find, but now it seemed that there was definitely something to be found.

So, she watched. Marinette sang two to four times a week and she paid careful attention to the people who came into the Liberty. Most of them found seats in the dining room or in front of the stage. But not all of them. Sometimes they lingered at the bar, only to disappear. 

Mister Haughton was the first person she’d noticed to seemingly vanish, so she poured over the society columns and asked Adrien what he knew of the movers and the shakers to familiarize herself with others of his ilk. 

It wasn’t long before she found a pattern. Nelson Sloan. Laurence Ludwig. Vincent Astor. John Whitney. Some of the wealthiest men in the city came through the Liberty Lounge, and yet they never seemed to find a table. And on the nights that one of them came—they all came.  

Of course, what she couldn’t find was a schedule or a pattern. There would be weeks where not a single elite New Yorker showed up. One week she saw them two nights in a row. It wasn’t until that night that she realized one more thing. Juleka disappeared from behind the bar, replaced by Remy, at the same time the millionaires started to vanish. 

Gray tweed had never felt so plain before. So rough. Marinette frowned as she set a little potted plant on the enormous desk. She was getting too comfortable in silk and satin. Before moonlighting as a chanteuse, she had found strength in her practical suits. Of course, she was learning that strength and beauty could go hand in hand. Juleka was a stunning woman, and while her slender build seemed inconsequential, there was strength in her silence. She could see it in the spark of her eyes that always seemed to be watching and listening.

With a quick motion, she pulled the Agreste file, their only file, from the filing cabinet and started making notes of her observations. She wanted to keep track of everything. Not that they had much to go on.

“Bugsy!” Adrien winced sheepishly when the door he’d flung open hit the back wall with a bang. “Sorry. But guess what I found?”

With a shake of her head at her friend’s enthusiasm she smiled at him indulgently. “What have you got for me, Kitty?”

Adrien grinned like the cat who’d gotten the canary and presented her with a roll of papers pulled from their half-hidden spot in his suit jacket with a flourish. With a flick of her wrist, Marinette divested him of his treasure and skimmed the contents. The desk was all but covered as she unfurled the large sheets of blue paper. Blueprints—which seemed to fit the Liberty Lounge—except for one thing. This building had a basement. The papers were labeled ‘Rapscallion.’ 

“A basement?” She traced her finger over the door to the coat check, which apparently also led to a hidden staircase. 

“Yeah! The building was purchased by the Couffaines, but before that, it was owned by someone else, which is why it took forever to find the prints! I had to search by address and cross-reference the purchase before I knew it was the same building.”

“What are these?” Marinette flipped through the rest of the papers, they looked like deeds. Businesses, homes, a farm…

“Those, M’Lady, are every property in and around the city that is somehow connected to the Couffaine family.” Adrien had every right to the look of smug satisfaction on his face. He had found more than she suspected he would in the dusty and rarely organized municipal city archives. 

“What do you mean ‘connected’?”

“Well, other than the Liberty and a small house, they don’t own any of them. But, look here, they have contributed in some way. Co-signing on a loan here, making mortgage payments there… None of it is illegal, but it seems suspicious—considering everything else.”

She looked at the deed to the farm again. The name looked familiar. That was Lucky’s family farm. She wasn’t supposed to get involved with suspects. But all she saw was proof of Luka’s altruism. He was good. She knew it in her bones. Her heart was already halfway to loving him, no matter how often she told herself she couldn’t date her boss. Not that he was asking. He was too good to do anything to make her uncomfortable. 

“It’s a dairy farm. The Couffaines helped them out when the wife fell sick. Their son delivers milk for the restaurant.”

“I suppose Mister Couffaine was talking himself up.” Marinette felt instantly defensive at Adrien’s petulant tone.

“No. Lucky mentioned it.” She shook her head thoughtfully. “Luka doesn’t seem to like talking about his more charitable work.”

Adrien’s frown matched hers, “Oh, so it’s Luka, now, is it?”

She looked her friend straight in the eye. “Mister Couffaine has been nothing but a decent employer and a gentleman. Watch your tone, Adrien.”

He was instantly contrite. “Sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean anything by it, I just didn’t realize you were such good friends.”

Marinette pushed her frustration down. “We… aren’t. But he seems like he would be a good friend to have. I would count his sister as a friend now.”

Adrien brightened. “That’s good! Maybe she’ll let you in on the family secrets.”

Marinette’s heart sank. She didn't like the idea of using a friend as an investigative tool. No wonder most PI’s were cranky, friendless, crusty old men. How long would it be before she was a miserable old woman, with nothing but a pile of solved cases and the memories of lost friendships?

They were closing down, and Marinette was waiting for the band to finish packing up before heading home when the double doors banged open with a rush of cold, wet air that swept through the lounge. Everyone’s attention was drawn to a figure that struggled to close the doors against the wind and rain. 

The woman was small, and closely cropped hair clung to her neck in damp tendrils. Marinette had already changed so it was easy work to dash to the door in her sturdy shoes and twill suit to help shut out the elements. She’d heard the rain pattering in between songs all night, but hadn’t realized how bad the storm had grown. “Are you alright?”

“Rose!”

Marinette whirled in shock. Juleka had her arms around the bedraggled woman in a tight hug. The newcomer giggled and returned the hug. “I’m okay, Jules. Just cold and wet. And tired. Don’t worry about me!”

Marinette stumbled back, right into the chest of her boss. She blushed and jumped aside, trying to figure out what was going on. She had never heard Juleka speak before, had believed she couldn’t, not that she wouldn’t.

Luka’s soft voice spoke into her ear, breaking her out of her reverie. “Could you ask Pierre for a bowl of soup and some bread for our guest please, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Of course!” She rushed into action, glad to have a task to busy herself with as her mind whirred. 

“Jules, get Rose into the back, find her something dry to wear.” Luka turned to the remaining crew. “The weather is terrible tonight. Ivan and I will drive you all home tonight, just stay put for the moment.”

“Soup!” Marinette ducked into the kitchen, blurting out the word the moment she spotted Pierre. 

“It’s all put away, Mademoiselle Mari.”

“There’s a girl—she got caught in the storm and she’s all wet and cold—Juleka called her Rose.”

“Rose! Wet, you say? Poor thing. We’ll get her taken care of.”

Pierre grabbed a saucepot and had it on the heat before he’d even filled it with leftover stew. He pulled a loaf of bread from its box and handed it to Marinette. “Wanna slice that for me? We’ll toast it with some cheese while the soup heats.”

Marinette set to, making quick work of the toasted sandwich. “Who is Rose?”

“Ah.” Pierre sighed. “She’s Juleka’s best friend. Those two were thick as thieves. Her family moved west months ago. Both the girls were heartbroken. Was she alone?”

“As far as I know.” Marinette pulled the sandwich off the heat and onto the plate Pierre held ready. 

He handed her a cup of coffee to go with it. “Get that to her, and I’ll have the stew ready in a bit.”

“You act like it’s an everyday thing to take care of a lost soul.”

Pierre smiled. “You haven’t been here long. But everyone knows the Liberty is the place to come if you’re in need. Doesn’t matter if you're coming or going, the Couffaines will get you there.”

Marinette felt like an intruder when she slipped into the costume room with the toastie. Juleka and Rose were huddled together on the divan, whispering softly. 

She cleared her throat to announce her presence. “I’ve got some warm food here.”

Rose turned gleaming eyes on her. “Oh, thank you! Aren’t you just the sweetest thing? Juleka said you were nice. I’m so glad to see the Liberty hasn’t been taken over by one of those prissy divas.”

“Are you alright?”

Rose’s smile lit up her face. Her toweled hair was drying into fluffy, golden curls that looked like a halo. “Oh, me? I’m fine. I’d have strolled in pretty as you please if that storm had waited just a little longer to hit. So other than my wounded pride, I’m right as rain.” Rose giggled and Juleka smiled at her fondly.

There was a knock at the partially open door before Luka appeared. “Hey, Rose. It’s good to see you looking like yourself again.”

The vivacious girl stood and gave a little spin in her borrowed clothes with a giggle. The simple dress hung at an odd length and Marinette assumed it was one of Juleka’s. “If you mean dry and warm, I’ll take it.”

“We still have room for you, if you want your job back. And I know there’s room in the house for you. Juleka wouldn’t have it any other way…unless you planned to stay elsewhere?” 

Shaking her head, Rose answered, “Nope! I’m here to stay!”

Still feeling like an interloper, Marinette slipped back to the kitchen to help Pierre with the impromptu meal. She’d barely finished slicing the rest of the loaf of bread when the Couffaines and Rose arrived. 

“Rose, darling! Have a seat. Mari, just plop that bread on the table and we can all have a bite while Rose warms up.” Pierre was all smiles and was tackled with an enthusiastic hug as soon as the soup pot was safe on the table. 

“Nothing out west was as good as your cooking, Chef!” 

“Eat up then, you little flatterer. Save your hugs for Miss Juleka, I know you love me.”

It didn’t take long for Marinette to figure out the family dynamic. Rose was like a little sister to Luka, but something quite a bit more to Juleka. Rose talked while she ate, telling the tale of how her family had dragged her out west to distract her from show business and its evils, but when they tried to foist her off on some cowboy, she packed up and left. 

“I hated leaving New York to begin with! Especially since Evangeline had just gotten married and quit. You lot got left in the lurch. I was hoping to keep some kind of relationship with my folks, but now I wish I had let them go without me.” Rose beamed at Juleka and they laced their fingers together. Marinette grinned as she watched them—they were adorable, and she’d never seen Juleka look so happy! Her eyes were practically sparkling.

“Who was Evangeline?”

Marinette nearly clapped her hands over her mouth when everyone looked at her, but the moment passed quickly. She might be new to the Liberty, but she had never felt unwelcome here.

“She was another singer, like me!” Rose enthused, “I felt so bad leaving the stage empty like that.”

“Don’t let Mister John hear you say that.”

Rose giggled again, and Marinette wondered if she had ever met anyone as bubbly as her. “Oh, that sourpuss. He’ll never say it, but I know he missed me too. I bet he loves you though— Mister John, indeed!”

Luka grinned, “He does at that. She won him over in a single conversation.”

Rose’s eyes sparkled, “No kidding! Well! That explains why you—”

Luka stood quickly, “I should get Pierre and Miss Dupain-Cheng home. It’s late. I’ll be back for you two shortly.”

The rain held steady as they drove through the dark, wet streets. Pierre spent the drive talking warmly about how good it was going to be to have Rose back, and Marinette found herself looking forward to getting to know her better.

Luka dropped Pierre off before making his way the last few blocks to her family’s bakery. "Thanks for your help, tonight."

"Of course. I was happy to help. But, uh… with Rose back, will you still be needing me?"

Luka nodded, "Yes. Of course. We used to have two vocalists. Rose and Miss Smith traded nights whenever they felt like it, and it kept the pressure off the band. Besides, the place wouldn't be the same without you now.” His brows knit together for a moment. “You won't leave us, will you?"

She shook her head with a small smile. "Not as long as I'm wanted."

Luka ducked his head for a second before answering, "Good. Then I guess you'll be around for a long while."

Marinette barely noticed the pounding rain as she dashed to her door with a smile on her face. It was nice to be wanted. The Liberty was starting to feel like a second home. She only vaguely noted that losing her position at the Liberty would have ruined the investigation.

Chapter Text

Marinette watched another wealthy man order a drink before disappearing into the door that looked like it led to the coat room. It was easy to spot the moment the Liberty’s more notable visitors disappeared now that she knew there was a secret staircase behind the door. She felt a little foolish for not seeing it before. While a large potted palm obscured the comings and goings from the casual observer, she had hoped she was more observant. As it was, she wondered how long it would have taken her to notice if not for Adrien’s blueprints. 

Her partner was stuck twiddling his thumbs a bit with this investigation. She was the one with access, and there was only so much he could do from the outside. She would have to tell him that the basement was definitely being used suspiciously. Despite the fact that it now seemed painfully obvious, all it had taken was a little misdirection to trick her until she knew what to look for. No wonder they weren’t having any trouble getting away with whatever they were doing.

She half hated that Gabriel appeared to be right about something underhanded happening at the Liberty. The Couffaines had won her over in short order and she didn't like that Gabriel of all people thought poorly of them. As far as she could tell, they were far superior to Adrien’s snooty, thoughtless father. She didn’t have proof of anything of course, so whatever they were up to didn’t matter. For all she knew they could be running an exclusive bookclub or frequent wine-tasting parties for Manhattan’s millionaires. She would stay and sing for as long as it took to figure out what was going on.

Marinette managed to sneak into the basement one day. It had been easy to arrive a little earlier than usual and check it out with no one the wiser. The basement was fairly large, and the walls were lined with wine racks, each slot filled with varying vintages. Something suited for everyone’s budget. Including the kind of people who had never considered a budget. Unless the city’s wealthiest citizens were gathering for clandestine wine tastings, whatever happened there was cleared away and hidden whenever it wasn’t active.

It started as an accident. The wood floor had a small knot in it, and when Marinette stumbled over the uneven patch, she grabbed hold of the nearest thing—the corner of one of the wall sized wine racks—and it moved . Just a little. She steadied herself and began to investigate. The whole wall was sectioned and set on a series of small wheels. Carefully, she pulled it gently but firmly until she could squeeze through the resulting opening. There was another door which led to a hidden room in the secret basement. 

The room was a new mystery. There was a bed along with a trundle tucked beneath it, several trunks and valices and a closet full of clothes in a variety of sizes and styles- though most of the garments were simple. If it had been dusty, she would have thought it was old and no longer used—a remnant from past owners. But it was clean. She could even smell a hint of soap that indicated the clothes had been recently laundered. Looking through the drawers in the closet, she discovered a small stockpile of basic toiletries much like the ones Maman liked to have on hand for guests. Puzzled, she turned around, examining everything and running through the things she knew about the family that owned the Liberty.

Lucky’s ma. 

The Bakers.

Rose.

Pierre had said that everyone knew they could find help at the Liberty. Coming or going . She gasped at a feeling of realization. The Liberty was harboring people in need. She looked at the suitcases and clothes. Pierre’s words and the supplies painted a picture. This was a safe place. A place to come with people who would take you to where you needed to go. The Liberty was a halfway house. Setting people free from whatever haunted them, making sure they had what they needed to get where they were going. There wasn’t proof just yet. But she could feel it. The pieces fit. The only thing that didn’t fit was the wealthy visitors. Were the two connected, or was it coincidence, or perhaps a smokescreen of some kind?

The Liberty attracted all kinds of visitors. Patrons from all walks of life were welcome to come in for a nice night out to enjoy the music and Pierre’s excellent menu. She had seen one or two celebrities during her tenure as chanteuse, though most of the guests were upper middle class business folk looking to relax over a glass of one of Juleka’s cocktails. Tonight she was a little surprised to notice young Officer Tim Jones. She hadn’t spotted any of New York's boys in blue before, but maybe that was because she didn’t know many of them personally, and like Jones, they wouldn’t come in uniform. He was dressed better than she expected for a police officer—she hadn’t thought that the force paid that well—but if he was single, maybe his expenses were geared towards his off nights.

The band shifted gears, swinging into her next number smoothly and Marinette shifted her attention away from Officer Jones, and back to Luka. There was still something about keeping her eyes on him while she sang that helped her feel more at ease. 

Poor Butterfly, 'neath the blossoms waiting

Poor Butterfly, for she loved him so

The moments pass into hours

If she hadn’t been watching him so intently, she wouldn’t have noticed the signal. Luka made a quick gesture, and Ivan reacted instantaneously. Before she could wonder what it meant, Jones and the two men he was sitting with were escorted out of the lounge rather expediently. It didn't go unnoticed, despite the fact that no one put up a fuss, but once the brief show was over, the room died down and she could feel eyes on her once again. 

The hours pass into years, and as she smiles through her tears

She murmurs low, the moon and I know that he'll be faithful

I'm sure he'll come back by and by

But if he don't come back, I just must die, poor Butterfly

Marinette accepted her applause with a slight bow, and deliberately gestured to the band behind her with a smile. The musicians deserved most of the praise. Just before she slipped offstage she noticed Ivan hand something off to Luka, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Why would Luka have a police officer thrown out of the Liberty, and what had Ivan found? The rest of the night crawled by as she waited to be able to speak to Mister Couffaine.

“What happened with Officer Jones?” She couldn’t resist. It was an innocent enough question, anyone would be curious, right?

Luka looked puzzled. “Who?”

“The man you had thrown out earlier. He’s a police officer, Timothy Jones.”

Luka tugged her gently out of the way of the exiting staff and leaned close. “You know him?”

“Not really, we were introduced once by a mutual… acquaintance.”

Luka frowned. “But he’s a police officer?”

She nodded. “Yes, why?”

Luka’s eyebrows knit together thoughtfully, “I guess you should know this; that man is part of the Akuma gang. He’s the one who threatened the Bakers. I’ll not allow known gang members in here. My sources tell me that everyone in the gang all carry these ‘butterfly’ knives.”

Marinette glanced at the oddly jointed, long-handled blade Luka pulled from inside his jacket. That was new information. The blades brought back from the war had become popular among gangs, but the NYPD had tried to ban them, and the knives were frequently confiscated. How had— 

“He’s in on it.” Marinette felt shock settle over her. She had suspected Gabriel was up to no good, but this made her think that he was behind everything. What if he had put the younger officers up to playing at being gang members, just so he could extort people while safely hidden behind the law? 

Luka gripped her elbow gently. “Who is, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“The Commissioner! But why? Why would Commissioner Agreste create a gang?” Marinette tossed the question out without thinking. The only benefit she could think of was money. But didn’t Gabriel have plenty of that? He certainly acted the part. The door down the hall opened, and she noticed the wait staff and the band leaving. 

“You comin’, Miss Mari?” Lance called out to her, holding the door. It was customary for the staff to leave together to ensure safety on the way home. 

“Yes, coming!” She glanced at Luka as she pulled away, but he was lost in thought, seemingly startled by her assessment. Hopefully, they could talk later. She slipped away with a quick ‘goodnight’ that went unanswered.

Adrien was her Private Eye partner. Their only job at the moment was from Gabriel Agreste. Adrien was Gabriel’s son. Marinette’s attempts to look into Liberty and the Couffaines had only made her suspect Gabriel of all sorts of wrongdoing, whereas the Couffaine family was looking more and more like saints in comparison. Not that a hazy, smoke-filled lounge could be mistaken for a church or heaven at first glance, but for many it was a haven. Even Marinette, new as she was, felt safe at the Liberty. The little family had made her feel like she was as much a part of it as any of them. Sure there were things happening there that she didn’t understand yet, but whatever it was, it seemed a lot less scary than what Gabriel Agreste was involved in.

Adrien had been hesitant to look into the Akuma stuff, and he didn’t seem to see—or want to see—the obvious connection to his father. He didn’t understand why their investigation of the Liberty had made her curious beyond their initial goals. He kept saying that it wasn’t their job to look into a mystery that they hadn’t been hired to solve. And technically, he wasn’t wrong. But Marinette didn’t feel comfortable walking away from something just because it wasn’t her job. But ever since the beginning, she had sworn to look for the truth—not simply pander to Gabriel’s whims. Adrien had said he agreed with her.

But Luka was different. His actions showed that he agreed with her. He had listened to her and acknowledged that something was off. He had even managed to discover the identities of some of the members of the Akuma gang, and he told her about it. Now, he had another lead. Luka had called her at the Bakery and asked if she wanted to meet a police officer who was willing to talk. She’d jumped at the chance. 

The Liberty looked different by day than it did by night. Narrow windows let in slender streams of sunlight, painting stripes of golden light across the otherwise dim interior. Ivan pointed to a table in the middle of the house, sitting on the edge of the dancefloor near the stage. Luka was leaning on the table, towering slightly over a large man sitting hunched in his seat. 

Luka looked up and acknowledged her with a grim smile. “You sure about this?”

She nodded and looked at Luka’s ‘guest.’ He looked familiar; it only took a second to recognize him. “You’re Sabrina’s dad, aren’t you?”

Marinette remembered the large officer as a doting dad who regularly brought his daughter into the bakery on Sunday mornings for tea and pastries. He always took his coffee dark but sweet, while Sabrina had liked her tea with lots of cream. 

He had not seemed like the kind of lawman who would threaten families for extra coin.

Officer Raincomprix slumped his shoulders even further and sighed. “Yes.”

All thoughts of how she imagined the interrogation would go flew out of her head and she considered what might have driven him to join the Akuma gang. Sympathy won out over going on the offensive. “Is Sabrina safe?” 

He nodded hesitantly, but his eyes sparked with worry. “Yeah. ‘Brina’s doing good. She’s getting married—she’s really happy.” He smiled and studied her for a second. “You were always a thoughtful kid. I know folks don’t always treat you and your mom well.” 

Marinette shrugged. Maybe this conversation would be easier than she expected. “Sabrina was nicer than some of the kids who came through there. You did a good job raising her.”

That was all it took to get him going. “I just wanted to help with the wedding. She has all these pretty ideas, and they are trying to do the smart thing and use their money for a house so they can get settled, but I wanted her to have her dream wedding. It’s the last thing I can do before she isn’t mine anymore.”

Marinette nodded, gone were the simple weddings of the war time 40’s. Dresses were bigger, parties more lavish. Fashion magazines showcased elegant white dresses just for a bride’s special day. Even a moderately fashionable wedding could get expensive quickly. 

“So you needed a little extra income?”

“It seemed like perfect timing when the commissioner said he was looking for a few good officers who wanted to make a little extra on the side. I didn’t understand what he was asking at first. I thought we were going undercover—playing a part. The extra in our pay was supposed to be for the extra hours and, ‘hazard pay,’ he called it. Said it might be a little dangerous if the gang found out we were cops.”

Marinette took a seat across from the contrite lawman and Luka relaxed, clearly understanding her direction, and pulled back to take a seat next to Officer Raincomprix. 

Luka sat back and regarded him for a second. “So, Roger, what happened to make you change your mind?”

Officer Raincomprix huffed out a defeated sigh. “The commissioner is in charge of the whole city. There are twenty-one precincts under his jurisdiction. It took me a while to realize that we were all cops–just from different parts of the city so we wouldn’t recognize each other. Every single one of the gang members are cops looking for extra cash. I tried asking the commander about it—subtle like—but he said the commissioner had mentioned a special task force and that I shouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think I explained it right. 

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if it’s safe to ask to drop it and stick with my regular beat. I wasn't too worried until that bakery burned down. Jones visited them a few weeks back. Now—I don’t know. I won’t do or say something that’ll put my little girl in danger.”

Officer Raincomprix wanted out. And he didn’t think he was the only one. But he figured some of the guys liked the power they got from being ‘Akumas.’ The fake gang, created by Gabriel Agreste to pad their wallets, seemed like it was on the verge of becoming real. 

Officer Raincomprix wasn’t done. “One of the guys did the math. Even with the difference in what each business is paying Gabriel for the ‘improved patrols,’ our cut is tiny. The commissioner is taking most of it. Some of the boys have been going out and threatening places that haven’t been approved, teaming up to play both Akuma and cop. They are cutting the commissioner out of it and keeping the take.”

Luka frowned. The whole thing was a powder keg. “Can you give me names?” he asked softly.

Marinette glanced at him, she knew Luka was well-connected to a plethora of people throughout the city. Could he actually put an end to it? What did he have in mind?

Officer Raincomprix nodded. “I just want out. I don’t want Sabrina to get mixed up in anything dangerous. If you can find a way to stop it, I’ll help however I can.”

Luka nodded. “Get me whatever you can on the men you think are causing the most trouble. Stopping the commissioner is important, but we need to keep it from getting out of hand first, and ensure the safety of the people of New York.”

“You want me to stay in then?” Officer Raincomprix looked so dejected that Marinette felt bad for him. He was obviously a good police officer. 

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Just for now. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, and lay low. We’ll find a way to put a stop to it—hopefully, find a good sheriff to handle the finer details—and then you and Sabrina will be safe again.”

“You handled that well. My strong-arm tactics might not have been nearly as effective.” Luka admitted once Officer Raincomprix had left them with a list of the Akuma members that he thought were most volatile. 

“I might not have if I hadn’t recognized him.” She hesitated briefly. “So, what’s your plan?”

Luka winked at her. “I know an old trick, and since we are dealing with illegal financial gain, it should be just the thing.”

Marinette puzzled over the possibilities, but Luka didn’t leave her wondering. “Mylène’s father works for the IRS as an auditor.” 

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle a little. “I guess if the IRS was able to take down Al Capone, they can handle a handful of dirty cops.”

Luka grinned. “Precisely. All I have to do is hand over these names to Mister Haprèle. Meanwhile, we can find a way to put a stop to the whole scheme before it spirals out of Agreste’s control.”

“Do you think the fire was intentional? It seems like the Akuma gang was originally meant to intimidate more than act.”

Luka frowned. “I was ready to chalk it up to coincidence until Roger mentioned the rogue officers. Now, I think it’s possible that it was purposefully set.”

“What about the good cops like Officer Raincomprix, who got mixed up accidentally? We don’t want the good ones going down.”

Luka shrugged slightly. “Not sure there’s much either of us will be able to do about that. I’ll be sure to ask whoever ends up in charge of the investigation to talk to Roger though, hopefully, they will tread carefully.”

Marinette nodded. Some things couldn’t be controlled. 

Adrien was her PI partner, but Luka was her partner in anti-crime. Once upon a time, she would have thought that there wasn’t a difference between the two. It stung a little to realize that she would have been wrong.

Even on her nights off, Rose tended to haunt the Liberty, spending time with Juleka and the rest of the crew. She said that the Couffaine house was boring when no one was around and Pierre's cooking was far superior to anything she could rustle up. 

Marinette’s nerves returned full force the first time she caught Rose watching her sing from the darkened wings. What if she didn't measure up? But Rose was a light wherever she went—as if it was her personal mission to build people up. She was waiting for Marinette backstage after the set was over.

“Mari! You sing beautifully! No wonder Luka snatched you up so quickly. And that dress! I adore pink and you look absolutely ethereal in it. Like you’re about to float away on a sunset.”

The compliment about her singing had been a relief. But the dress… She was proud of her work on the gowns she had made recently. Creating them had woken up a little part of her that she had thought she had left behind when she gave up on her dreams of becoming a fashion designer.

“Really? You like it?”

“I adore it. I can never find things that fit me right. All the fashions are for tall, elegant, voluptuous women these days.”

Marinette giggled. She knew how Rose felt. “Well, we ‘songbirds’ have to stick together! Feel free to borrow any of my gowns! I made them for the stage and don't have anywhere else to wear them.”

Rose stopped, holding still for a moment before she seemed to explode. “Wait, Marinette, you made that? But it's incredible!”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat, but nodded. “I have a little extra material…I could make something up for you if you want.”

“No! Really? Wait! Don’t be silly! I’ll pay you—you don’t need to use your material. I love that color though. Oh! Can you give it one of those necklines like Marilyn Monroe wore in that film?” Rose sighed wistfully as she spun in an imaginary dress.

Marinette beamed at her enthusiasm—she couldn’t wait to start creating something for the vibrant girl. “Sure, Rose. A halter would look amazing on you. You’ll look even prettier than Marilyn.”

Rose stopped spinning. “Oh! Save your flirting for Luka.”

Marinette froze. Were her feelings that obvious? “I... Uh… I should go. Pierre will worry if I don’t show up for some tea… I’ll sketch up a design for your dress and show you as soon as I have it done.”

Spinning, Marinette all but ran into Luka on her way. He steadied her easily, but it did nothing to calm her racing heart. Between Juleka and Rose, she wasn’t sure she could take the teasing. 

“You sounded lovely tonight, Songbird.”

She hadn’t stammered since she was in elementary school. Not once English had become second nature to her. But with Rose’s accusation of her flirting fresh in her mind and the warmth of Luka’s hands still burning her shoulders where he had caught her for that brief moment, her tongue failed her. “I, uh. Th-thank you Mister Couffaine.” He nodded and she fled down the hall to the warmth of the noisy kitchen to seek solace in a cup of tea and Pierre’s genial chit chat.

“It was so much harder with Rose there.” Luka’s low voice hauls you out of the Liberty and back to the sitting room where you blink at the exasperated look on Marinette’s face. “Sorry, Songbird. I know you didn’t want me to interrupt, but you weren’t there for this bit.”

You watch, fascinated by the new information unfolding before you as Marinette tips her head and asks Luka quizzically, “Why, what happened after I left?”

“Well, let’s see. I had just overheard Rose teasing you about flirting with me…”

Luka watched resignedly as Marinette all but ran to the kitchen. He turned to Rose with a groan. “Please don’t scare her off…”

Rose crossed her arms and tapped her foot indignantly. “Luka! Why haven't you married that girl? I know I just met her, but I’ve known you for ages, and I’m not blind. You are head over heels for that girl, and it’s easy to see she cares about you.”

Luka ran a hand over his face in exasperation. “I'm her boss, Rose. I won't make her uncomfortable by asking her out.”

“I know you watch her sing. You have to see what the rest of us do.“

“Everyone watches when she sings.”

Rose stamped a foot. “That's not what I meant. Singing isn't her passion. She has talent and determination, but her passion only shines through when she looks at you. In fact, it wasn’t until today when she started talking about making clothes that I’ve seen anything close to that much enthusiasm in her except when she looks at you. I don't think she would be uncomfortable if you asked her out. I think she'd be thrilled.”

“You don't know what she's been through.” Luka didn’t know either, but he’d known since he met her that her life had taught her to be cautious when it came to romance—or men at least. 

Rose sighed. “You're right, I don't. But I can guess some of it. I'm a woman after all.”

Luka shook his head. “I know, Rose. And maybe you’re right, but I won’t be another reason she fears walking into an interview outside of Chinatown.”

Rose pouted half-heartedly. “But—”

“Give us time. I want—need her to know us a little better. All of us. If she seems amenable, we’ll get there. Alright?”

“Okay.” She sniffed. “I’ll be patient, but you can’t keep her in the dark!”

He tensed briefly but nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you. Now get out of here and go flirt with Jules. She could use the company before she has to close down the bar.”

Marinette is blushing furiously by the time Luka finishes his interlude. “I can’t believe you said all that.”

You watch Luka as he stares at his wife for a moment and the romance in the room is nearly palpable. Hating to interrupt, but nervous about witnessing more than they intend to share, you clear your throat lightly to regain their attention. Marinette turns her gaze from Luka and looks at you with a smile. Luka’s eyes stay on the still-blushing face of his wife as Marinette retakes control of the story.

“Right. Well. The next time I came in, Luka shared even more about the Liberty with me…”

“Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette paused, letting her coat fall limply at her side. “Can I help you, Mister Couffaine?”

Luka’s smile was tight, he didn’t fidget—she’d rarely seen him show outward signs of worry—but there was something about him that made her feel that he wasn’t feeling entirely confident. 

“We have a secondary operation of sorts here at the Liberty.”

Marinette nodded, he had already complimented her on her curiosity and intelligence, so there was no reason to play coy. “So, I’d gathered. Some of your patrons who enter, never do seem to find a table, and yet, they don’t leave. Not right away, anyhow.”

Luka’s smile warmed. “Why am I not surprised that you are as clever as you are beautiful?”

Marinette fought down a blush. Now was not the time to overthink a compliment, she was at work, and she was being confided in. She waited patiently, he had approached her—she wouldn’t push now.

He stepped closer to her and then nodded to his open office door, she walked in ahead of him and he shut the door behind them. 

“I run a casino downstairs.” Marinette nodded again, she was hardly shocked—that explained just about everything she had observed in terms of their well-to-do guests. The city of New York didn’t allow gambling. But everyone had a place to go for it—if you knew the right people. And the people she had seen walk through the Liberty were those who would never get caught. 

Gabriel had been right about one thing—the Liberty was hiding something. Though it was nothing as big as what the commissioner was involved in. Why was Luka telling her now? “I don’t have any experience with cards.”

“No.” Luka chuckled darkly. “I still want you to sing, little Songbird, it’ll just be on a different stage. Occasionally. But I need you to be… unremarkable when you’re downstairs.”

“Unremarkable?”

Luka huffed and gritted his teeth in the most emotional display she’d seen from him since Jebediah had accosted her and Lucky at the market. He stepped close to her, still never making contact, but concern shone in his eyes. 

“Some of these people can be dangerous. They have money—the kind of money that talks and inspires people to act. The kind that makes problems disappear. I need you to be scenery.” Luka’s hand came up and hovered near her shoulder for just a second before he dropped it and stepped back. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“So, my goal is to entertain, but as… unremarkable scenery.”

“Yes. They need to enjoy the music, but not notice the chanteuse, you have to be good—so that you aren’t distracting in a bad way, but not so good that they see you. Up here, when someone asks for your information I can refuse. But if one of them asks…well, refusal is dangerous. You can’t let them want to take you home.”

Marinette felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She hadn’t realized… “So. Nondescript evening wear. I’m sure Juleka can give me some pointers on how to be classy and invisible at the same time. Sing well, but not too well. Don’t attract attention. I can do that.” She nodded thoughtfully, accepting the request. She couldn’t tell whether Luka had really wanted her to or not, but this was her chance to dig into the depths of the Liberty—not to mention see the underground where the city’s elite were comfortable disobeying the law in full view of each other.

“One more thing. I need you to be French.”

“What?” Marinette stopped her internal planning and focused on her handsome boss. 

“Sing, speak, everything in French. It will create the illusion of a language barrier, they will perceive you in the same way they would… the help. You’ll just be one of the perks of being wealthy. A French chanteuse, much the same way they might have a French chef.”

“You don’t think they’ll recognize me from upstairs?”

“Not if we do it right.”

“Alright then… Monsieur Couffaine. Je serai français.”¹

“Merci. I’ll be down occasionally, and Juleka handles the games, so she will be with you plus there’s Miss Penny Rolling. Miss Rolling handles security downstairs—and she will accompany you on bass. You’ll not be alone.”

It was the perfect opportunity. She was about to have full access to the secret goings-on. All while she would be considered harmless due to her perceived lack of understanding. She could listen and learn and no one would be the wiser. Except for Luka. But even he didn’t know who she truly was. She tried not to let that bother her as much as it did.

“I need you to understand.”

You glance up, startled, when Luka’s smooth voice stops Marinette’s story. Looking around, you can hardly believe that you are sitting in a sunny living room on a comfortable sofa and not tucked into the office of the Liberty getting ready to embark on a little espionage. Luka looks a little guilty, and you realize that as exciting as the story is, Marinette’s tale had him putting her in a certain amount of danger. 

“I wanted her to know us. To know me . When Mister Astor asked for a higher level of entertainment for their casino nights, I knew it was my chance to bring her further into the Liberty fold. Juleka was excited about it. She liked Marinette and was thrilled that I was taken with her. With Rose back home making her happy, she wanted me to find the same kind of happiness. And Rose could sing upstairs on some of the nights that Marinette could help downstairs.” 

He hangs his head a little sheepishly as he looks at his wife. “It was selfish. It seemed like the easiest way to make her aware of everything without spelling it out. I was definitely being overdramatic—I wanted her to understand, to see what we were doing. It was a secret for more than one reason. And the gentlemen weren’t nearly as bad as I made them out to be, but I didn’t want her to notice them any more than I wanted them to notice her. Not like I had. I should have done things a little differently and in a different order.”

You glance at Marinette who is grinning at Luka, she isn’t blushing, but her eyes are noticeably soft. “But you didn’t mind?”

She shakes her head. “I was just glad he trusted me. It was why I sought the position, but it was more than that by then.”

Settling back into your seat, you relax, amused by Luka’s chagrin so many years later. “So, how did it go? The first time you got to see the casino in action, I mean.”

Marinette tips her head in thought, and you take a breath in anticipation.  

“I was a little nervous…”

It took a few minutes to shake off the nerves that came with her first night singing for the casino crowd. Marinette turned to Juleka imploringly, “Can you help me?”

Juleka nodded, smiling. “Don’t worry. Luka’s paranoia is worse than the gamblers’ bite. He’s overprotective of his family.  I do have a splendid idea for how to make you up though.”

Marinette still wasn't used to Juleka talking to her. Juleka was still silent behind the bar, and she only spoke in very specific circles of people. Marinette was happy to be a member of the trusted few. 

“I can’t wait to see what you have in mind.”

The silver-gray gown Juleka pulled for her was almost plain in its simplicity—though it was elegant enough to fit the clientele. It had a high neck and was cut on the bias, and once it was on it gave her an almost androgynous air. 

Juleka pulled Marinette’s hair back into a low but tight chignon, and it added something close to severity to her overall look. In direct contrast to the silver gown, Juleka added a gold net over Marinette’s hair. At first glance, the net made her hair look lighter, almost brown instead of black. Juleka’s brush was magic in her hands, and the way she applied the makeup made the light play over her features in such a way that she looked less like her Maman and more like her Papa than she thought possible. It would take a very perceptive person to recognize her as the same singer that usually graced the main stage. 

“Ready, ladies?” Luka gave her an approving nod, but his eyes were tight and she felt as though he didn’t like her ‘disguise.’

Juleka squeezed Marinette’s hand. “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit. Luka will show you the stage and get you situated.” She slipped away, silent once again. Marinette turned to Luka, and he wrinkled his nose. 

“She did a good job. You barely look like yourself.” 

She arched a brow at him. “That was the goal, wasn’t it?” 

“It was. I just think I prefer the real you.” 

Marinette flushed at the compliment and followed Luka to the cloakroom. “Do I need an alias?”

“I suppose that would be a good idea. Did you have something in mind?”

“When I was little, I wanted to design clothes. I could go by Mademoiselle Sabine Couturière.”

Luka nodded. “Seamstress. Clever. And Sabine?”

“My mother’s name—I’ll react to it if I hear it.” She basked in Luka’s approving smile as he showed her how to bypass the coat room for the staircase that led them to the wine cellar. 

The basement had been transformed. It seemed smaller somehow. Had the walls been moved in to make it more intimate? Wine bottles still filled up the walls, but a white cloth-draped table took up the center of the room, and a small stage was in the corner next to a double bass. There wasn’t a microphone in the smaller space, so she would have to modulate her voice to suit the atmosphere. 

Luka gestured to a tall woman in a crisp yet elegant blouse, paired with men’s trousers. It suited her startling well, and Marinette could see why a woman who handled security would prefer to wear trousers. She wondered idly at designing slacks for women that would fit a bit better and still allow for ease of movement. 

“Penny, this is Mademoiselle Couturière, while she’s downstairs, anyway. She will be singing for the casino on occasion.”

Luka smiled at her. “ Mademoiselle Couturière , c'est Penny, elle t'accompagnera à la basse ce soir.²He squeezed her elbow lightly, “Prends soin de toi.”

Marinette was surprised to say the least at Luka’s easy command of French. She’d caught on that he knew a little, but suddenly the romantic hype that surrounded her mother tongue made sense when she heard it in Luka’s low voice. She smiled at Penny as Luka walked away, unsure if she was supposed to continue in French or use English until the guests arrived.

Penny smiled at her, and her French was as good as Luka’s. “ Let’s stick to our parts, shall we? As far as I know, you only speak French. You have music for me? ”

“ Oui .” With a nod, Marinette offered her the music she’d procured for this evening. Papa had enjoyed sharing his favorite songs with her, and she was excited to sing them. 

Marinette’s vocals blended beautifully with the low timbre of the bass, and the resulting sound was soft and intimate, perfect for the space. 

The casino was much more calm than she had anticipated. Juleka served as dealer—polite, but silent as the grave. Marinette realized that everyone down here was armored in some way. Juleka’s silence created a barrier, Marinette was covered by being French, and Penny only needed her stern gaze and tall stature to command respect. Marinette had been told that Penny was their security detail, so Marinette had no doubt that she had other skills in her arsenal. 

The guests acted as if they were in a gentlemen’s club, smoking cigars and chatting over cards. Marinette couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the smoke—it was stronger here than upstairs. Papa never allowed cigars or cigarettes in the bakery; he claimed it ruined the flavor of the bread. Backroom deals were made, along with chatter about the heirs and heiresses they hoped to marry their sons and daughters off to, hoping to strategically combine their fortunes for the generations to come.  

It was downright tame. There was no way this is why Commissioner Agreste had stopped them from opening their detective agency. Unless the job really had been a ploy to prevent Adrien from going into business with her. That wouldn’t surprise her. But why choose a club that had the least going on from a legal standpoint? Other than a poker game where the house didn’t have stakes in the game, Juleka seemed to be the most frequent winner, raking in the earnings for the house. The men were jovial—laughing about their terrible luck—and didn't seem to mind too terribly. Even if the Couffaines had rigged every game in their favor, that still shouldn’t have piqued Gabriel’s interest.

She considered the room. Either the table and stage took up more room than she thought it did, or the wine rack walls had been moved in to make it smaller. The little bedroom taunted her memory. What all went on here? And was it possible that the secret room had anything to do with whatever Gabriel Agreste was looking for? Why would a family-run halfway house be of any interest to the Commissioner?

When the night came to a close, one of the walls (on the opposite side of the room as the hidden room) was shifted to make room for the bass and the stage, which was flipped and laid flat against the wall. When everything was in place, there was no sign the basement was anything other than a well-stocked wine cellar. Marinette might have found answers, but her list of questions kept growing.

The detective office seemed gloomy somehow. Marinette was slumped in her seat sharing the details of what she had learned.

“I know why the numbers don’t add up. You were right about the basement, they have an illegal casino down there. But here’s the thing. The only guests are the likes of Astor, Whitney, Sloane, and Haughton Jr. It might be moving more money than some because of that, but it has to be one of the smallest secret casinos in the state.”

Marinette felt sick passing on the information about the casino to Adrien. He was her partner. She was doing the job they had been hired for, but she felt like she was betraying the trust Luka had placed in her. Disregarding the help and friendship Juleka had offered. 

Adrien beamed. “So we’re done, right? We can tell Father about the casino and he can have it raided or whatever and we hang our shingle and take on the world.”

Marinette wasn’t sure that was what she wanted anymore. Guilt seeped through her from all sides. She didn’t want to abandon her friend. She and Adrien had spent the last couple of years planning this. Getting their licenses and honing their skills. But while Adrien had been her closest friend for a long while, she now had a litany of new friends who felt nearly like family. She cared about Juleka, Rose… and Luka. And they cared about her. They trusted her. 

Unsure of how she wanted to proceed, she stalled. “I’m not sure it’s enough. There has to be something we’re missing that your father expects us to find. Unless he’s trying to keep us busy looking for something that doesn’t exist.”

Adrien sighed in exasperation. “C’mon Bugsy! Why not? I’m bored! I can’t do anything. Let’s take a case where I can be of more use than finding some blueprints while you get to have all the fun of being undercover.”

Marinette sighed, she felt bad because she was having fun. She loved working at the Liberty. But she still thought there was more to it. “There are dozens if not hundreds of secret casinos in this city. Why does the commissioner care about this one? I think the Couffaines are doing more good than harm. He has to be expecting us to find something bigger than this.” 

“What kind of good do you think is coming out of an illegal gambling den?”

“I think they are using the money to help people. Like Robin of Loxley helped the poor by robbing the rich.”

Adrien looked at her askance. “You’re comparing an underground casino owner to Robin Hood?”

“Yes! Everything I’ve seen and heard suggests that he—that they go out of their way to help people. Lucky’s family, the Bakers, and everyone at the market respected him! Let me keep looking. Make sure we have all the facts. Please, Adrien?”

“Darn it, Mari. You know I can’t tell you no. Do what you need to do, satisfy all that curiosity of yours, but remember, we aren’t free until this is wrapped up. And do let me know if there is something I can work on in the meantime.”

Relief flooded her system. And she did have one idea of something he could focus on. It might not help with her investigation, but at least he would have something to do. “Thanks Kitty. Your mom came from the same circle that the Liberty’s gamblers move in. Do you still have any acquaintances there?”

His shrug was… odd. “Sure, Father and I are occasionally still invited to dinner parties and the like. It’s not the same as it was, but I could run into some of them in the gentleman’s club if I really wanted to—and they wouldn’t shun me.”

She was surprised, she had thought that Adrien kept himself further removed from that world than that. “Well, that’s great then! Rekindle some of those associations and see what you can learn from the other side of the equation. Maybe they know something.” 

Adrien nodded, and a spark came back into his eyes. “Alright! I can do that. I’ll get Father to make sure my spot at the club is in good standing—all in the name of a business expense, right Mari?”

She smiled. “Exactly, so.”

Marinette still had time. But the clock was ticking. Eventually, her time at the Liberty would have to come to an end, and she didn’t know how she was going to handle that. 

1.“I will be French.”return to text

2. ”This is Penny, she will accompany you on bass tonight. Take care.” return to text

Chapter Text

Bright lights blurred and turned into streaks as cars passed, cutting through the dark, oppressive night.  A shiver ran through her and Marinette groaned. How could she have forgotten?!

“What’s the matter, Miss Mari?” Clyde asked as another taxi stopped at the street corner crowded with the last employees to leave the Liberty and a few other lounges in the area. 

With a grunt of resignation, she indicated her offending bag. “I think I forgot my pocketbook in the dressing room.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, I can cover your fare for tonight.”

Marinette smiled gratefully, but she had to turn down his offer. “Oh, that’s thoughtful of you, but I don’t even have my house key! I’ll just run back real quick. It shouldn’t take long.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me, Clyde. You get home to Missus Clyde.”

A bark of laughter startled her. “Don’t let Lorna hear you, the only thing she don’t like about me is my name.”

With a chuckle, Marinette dashed back through the night to the Liberty. Usually after they were finished for the night, the crew walked together to the nearest intersection, where it was easy to find a taxi cruising for late-night fares. Marinette knew she and the few waitresses would be safe to wait with the band despite the darkness and the hour. 

The rear doorway wasn’t empty when Marinette made it back to the club, a woman she had never seen before appeared to be entering. Which was lucky, with the club closed it wasn’t likely for her knock to be easily heard by Ivan, Luka, or Juleka as they finished closing up.

“Hold the door, please!” 

A long braid swung around as the woman stopped and turned. “Well, lass, ye are either very late or very early. Which is it?”

“Neither, just forgetful, I’m afraid.”

The woman appraised her with a look. “Ye must be Luka’s Songbird.”

A flutter ran through her at the description, it wasn’t true of course. “I’m Marinette, one of the Liberty’s chanteuses, yes.”

“Anarka.”

“Oh! So, you must be Mister Couffaine’s mother.”

“Mister Couffaine is it?”

“He is my employer, ma’am.”

Anarka scoffed lightly. “Better call me Anarka, or Captain, if ye prefer.”

A soft chuckle interrupted their tête-à-tête. “My mother fancies herself a pirate,” Luka stated, appearing in the hall as the door closed behind them.

“I kept you scalawags in line, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Ma.”

Luka had removed his coat and tie, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his easygoing smile while he spoke to his mother made him seem considerably younger than the ‘Boss-Man’ who ran the club day-to-day. Marinette swallowed nervously. She should not be focusing on the attractiveness of her boss! She was investigating him—or the business anyway. “Sorry! I forgot my pocketbook. I’ll grab it and get out of your hair.”

“Wait.” Marinette whirled back around at Luka’s commanding tone.

He winced. “Sorry, that was… It’s late. Let me take you home once we’re ready to go. You’ll never get a cab now that the exodus is over.” 

Marinette hesitated, it would be foolish to go out on her own at this hour. “Alright. Thank you.”

“We’re almost good here, just come find me once you’re ready.”

With a nod, Marinette slipped down the hall and backstage. She glanced at the vanity where she had set aside her pocketbook to find her lipstick at the bottom of her bag. She’d been in a rush earlier and hadn’t put her belongings back together before going onstage like she usually did. It wasn’t in front of the mirror. She glanced at the racks of clothes but didn’t see it there either. She pulled open the top drawer and let out a relieved sigh at the sight of it. Juleka or one of the musicians must have put it away safely. 

Marinette made her way back to Luka’s office to let him know she was ready to go, but the open door revealed an empty room. Sitting on top of his desk was a large open book. A ledger. Careful to stay on the visitor's side of the desk, Marinette glanced down at it. Everything was recorded neatly in labeled columns. Of course, she had no idea what the initials meant. Without touching anything, Marinette copied some of the information into a notebook. There was a chance it would make sense if she learned some of the shorthand used around the lounge. Whether or not there was anything to learn beyond the casino was still a mystery. There had to be dozens of illicit gambling parlors in the city. Why did Gabriel care about this one?

As she copied out a line of notations she noticed that almost everything listed under CS was in the black. Then, she noticed the exact same numbers listed as losses repeatedly under SH. 

She glanced nervously at the office door and decided to see what else she could find. Carefully marking the page, she turned back pages looking for loose items or anything that stood out from the careful notations. On every page she looked at, all the notations under CS and SH followed the same pattern. The earnings from CS seemed to go straight to the SH, whatever that was.

Then she noticed loose clippings. There was an article about the bakery fire from the Times. She flipped further—every once in a while she ran into more newspaper clippings. Missing person reports seemed to be chief among them. Most of them women—some married, others not. Occasionally a woman and her small children were listed as missing as well. What did it mean? Had these people come through the secret room in search of safety? There were also police blotters—highlighting a serial burglar that seemed to hit only the wealthiest families.

Safety. Safehouse. SH. She looked at the dates carefully, comparing them to the days she knew she had seen the gamblers. The lines marked CS all happened on Casino Nights. Did this confirm that the casino funded the safehouse? Her heart sped up at the idea. The Couffaines might be more like Robin Hood than she had realized.

Just before she gave up, she found an older article. The obituary page included the untimely death (after a brief illness) of Emilie Agreste. What did Madam Agreste’s death have to do with the Liberty? Or was it a coincidence? There were additional death notices on the page. But Marinette didn’t believe in coincidences. Quickly, but carefully, she put everything back to how she’d found it and left the office to find Luka like he’d asked her to do. 

Instead of feeling triumphant about her potential discovery, she felt slimy about snooping on a family of people she liked and admired. She shook off the feeling and headed down the hall. Following the faint sound of music, Marinette made her way to the darkened stage, where she found Luka. He was sitting on the dark stage, with a guitar in his lap. The music stopped at the sound of her heels on the hardwood floors and Luka looked up. 

The sudden silence felt jarring and she felt oddly exposed. “Please, don’t stop. You play beautifully.”

Luka’s lips tipped into a crooked smile and he continued playing. Marinette let herself get carried away for a few minutes and joined in when he played a song she knew, her voice joining his strings for the chorus. The world came crashing back down when he found the natural ending to the song and the music stopped. “I get so wrapped up in running this place, sometimes I forget why I started coming in the first place.”

“Why move from musician to manager?”

“Dad left to follow his dream. Ma needed the help—so I stepped up. I just kind of forgot to step back down.”

“You’re talented. I feel sorry for everyone who has missed out on hearing you play.”

Luka was quiet while he put the guitar away, but then he turned to her with a soft smile. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll have to play more often if you enjoy it. Ready to go?”

The ride home was surprisingly jovial considering Juleka still rarely spoke unless Rose was around, and Luka only responded to Anarka’s gentle ribbing with feigned ignorance. Marinette decided she liked the outlandish woman as much as she liked her children. 

Setting her bag on the vanity, Marinette surveyed the new addition to the space. There was a small wooden crate of dolls and toys that did not look like they belonged in the back of a jazz club. She turned to Juleka. “What's this?”

Juleka smiled softly. “Penny dropped those off for the kids who sometimes move through here. We were running low, and it helps them to feel safe in a scary situation.”

“Penny? The downstairs bass player?”

“Mmhmm. Penny handles all the little details when someone needs help. Ma and Luka are good with doing, but Penny is our tactician.” 

Marinette nodded smoothly, but inside she was screaming with the confirmation of her suspicions. The secret room was being used as a halfway house! Juleka must think that she was in the know since she had helped out with the casino. It wouldn’t be too hard to get further confirmation.  “Do you want me to take this downstairs then?”

Juleka waved her off. “Don’t bother, the walls are heavy. Luka will take care of it.” 

There was no doubt left in her mind. The last thing she wanted to do was turn over any of this information to Gabriel Agreste.

Stars shining bright - above you

Night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you"

Birds singin' in the sycamore trees,

Dream a little dream of me

Marinette pulled her eyes away from Luka with a blush. Hopefully, the lighting hid as opposed to enhancing the pink in her cheeks. It felt forward to be looking at any specific person while asking them to dream of her. It was just a song. But it felt like more. Maybe because she might not mind it too terribly if he did dream about her.

Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be,

Dream a little dream of me

It was worse not looking at him. The crowd seemed larger, closer somehow when she shifted her focus. She looked at the way his hair fell over his forehead, at the carefully crafted knot of his tie, the perfectly folded pocket kerchief—anywhere but his eyes. Eyes she knew were blue despite the stage lights, eyes that were kind. The sort of eyes that might be able to see her soul if she let them. Eyes she really shouldn’t be staring into while she sang about craving kisses.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear

Just saying this

Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever they be,

Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear

Just saying this

Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever they be,

Dream a little dream of me

She nearly lost track of the lyrics when the club doors opened and her Maman entered quietly, noticeably nervous. She looked smaller than ever framed by the large double doors and Marinette knew something was wrong. Sabine’s serious eyes locked onto hers, and it was only by sheer determination that she finished the last note of the song.

Dream a little dream of me

As soon as she could walk off the stage without giving away her fear, she slipped away and through the crowds to meet Sabine. 

“Maman? Is everything all right?” Marinette’s heart lodged in her throat when she saw the distress in her mother’s eyes. 

Sabine shook her head, a small gesture that spoke volumes. Her voice, spoken in rapid-fire French, was the softest whisper that could still be heard over the band. “Your Papa is in the hospital. A man threw a rock. It broke the shop window and struck his head. Monsieur Ramier drove us, they told me to wait, but I must also find a way to cover the window, your Papa begged me not to go home alone.”

Marinette’s heart dropped into the soles of her shoes, “What do you need me to do, Maman? You can return to Papa, do you want me to watch the shop?”

“No!” Marinette faltered at the exclamation from Sabine, she was usually so serene. “No, Mari. The men were aiming for me. I will not have you in danger.” Marinette’s heart stopped. Targeted. Someone had tried to hurt her mother.

I was eight when my friend left the city with her family. Kagami and I were so alike and so different. Her mother was strict where my parents were jovial. We both felt out of place unless we were at school—a school for immigrants—and even then we were the only two who looked so much different than the Italians and Germans, though all of us worked to learn English well enough to fit into the city.

“Why do you have to go?” I didn’t want Kagami to leave. Adrien was nice, he let me play in his yard, capture his bugs, and climb his trees—but he did not understand my world like Kagami did. In many ways, we were so much older than he was.

“Mother says it isn’t safe. Our family has been forbidden from crafting weapons. The art of the Katana is the lifeblood of the Tsurugi family. We are going west to join family there. Mother hopes we will be allowed to continue the craft away from the crowds of the big city.” 

Marinette pulled Kagami into a hug. “I will miss you,  meillure copine¹

Kagami, though stiff at first, returned the hug with considerable strength. “And I you, tomodachi.”

Tomodachi. Friend. The only Japanese word I ever learned and the only thing I have left of her, other than a few old letters. It was the last time I saw her. Months later we got the news that the West was even worse than New York for Japanese-American families. It wasn’t until sometime after the end of the war that I learned about the camps. Targeted because of where their families originated. 

Marinette’s throat tightened. Maman had been targeted. Protected by Papa. But Papa was hurt.

She started when a wrap was thrown over her shoulders and Mister Couffaine led both her and her Maman out the back way. 

“ Ivan will take you and your mother to the hospital. We’ll see that the bakery—and your home—is safe, ” he promised.  Luka’s easy fluidity with the French language sent a ripple of calm through Marinette, even as she tried to process what he was saying.

Sabine’s eyes widened, and Marinette tried to protest. “No, Mister Couffaine! You needn’t worry about—”

“We take care of our own, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Luka insisted, as he helped them smoothly into the car.

The gash in Tom’s head was nearly finished being cleaned and stitched up before they arrived back at the hospital, and other than fuss over him, there had been little the ladies could do. The doctors asked him to stay the night, but Tom insisted on accompanying his wife and daughter home. After a little additional observation, the doctor finally relented and let them leave.

Ivan was still there with the car. He had waited hours for them. And yet, it wasn’t until they returned home that Marinette learned what it was to be a Couffaine. Or, at least in the care of the Couffaines.

He looked imposing in the dark. Marinette had never thought that about Luka before. Not with his whispered reassurances. His kind eyes. The smile that hovered at the corner of his lips. But standing outside their building in the dead of night, he looked every inch the mob boss that Commissioner Agreste had tried to paint him as. She had never felt so much safety in such an imposing figure.

“Ma’am. Mister Dupain. Glad to see you’re alright.” Luka tipped his hat and acknowledged her parents before turning to her, his eyes softened. “Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

They approached their house, and the window—though devoid of artistry—gleamed in the pale moonlight, whole and unbroken. 

“No other disturbances to report. Is there anything else you need tonight?” Luka asked.

Marinette looked from the window back to her boss. “No! You’ve done too much already. How can I thank—”

Uncharacteristically, Luka cut her off, “No need to thank me, Marinette. You’re a part of the Liberty family.” 

Marinette forgot what she was going to say when her name fell from his lips. When he called her family. She couldn’t find her voice, but her mouth formed the word she wanted—silent though it was. Luka. His eyes stayed on her mouth, and the smallest smile lit his features. 

“I should go. Ivan deserves to get home now. Goodnight.” Luka reached out and squeezed the tips of her gloved fingers for just a second before he was gone.

Marinette watched as the car drove out of sight, her attention only pulled back to her family when she heard an exclamation. 

“ Mon Dieu !” Tom had stopped in the doorway. Marinette rushed over as Sabine nudged Tom through the open door. The room was spotless. There weren’t any signs of glass on the floor. Certainly, no bloody rock to be found. Sabine spotted the only thing out of place and picked up a receipt for the glaziers. Marinette leaned over to read it. There wasn’t a price listed anywhere. Simply the name of the family company—The Beletz Brothers—along with the size of the window and a stamp that stated ‘Paid in Full’.

It didn’t matter to her that the Liberty was hiding illegal activities, especially since she was sure she knew what those activities funded. It almost didn’t matter that she was spying on the lounge. Marinette knew that she was family now. And family came first. 

Rose covered for Marinette for a few nights, giving Marinette a chance to spend a little extra time with her parents after the incident. As much as she enjoyed the time with her Papa and Maman, and as much as she didn’t mind baking, she had never felt called to follow in her parent’s footsteps and it wasn't long before everyone was ready for her to stop hovering. Nothing out of the ordinary happened over the next few days and she was glad to return to the Liberty when her parents felt a little more comfortable being apart. She had missed seeing Luka and the rest of the Liberty family during her brief absence and was excited to return.

Marinette straightened her dress and took a steadying breath before she went on. She wasn’t entirely comfortable in the strapless gown, though she loved the silhouette. She glanced at the house, it was pretty full tonight—there was a new face though. Sitting at a table on his own, the empty seats were a sign of danger she didn’t know how to interpret.

She felt Luka’s presence just before he spoke. His voice was soft and low in her ear. “I need your help tonight, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette let the ghost of the shiver his closeness caused to ripple through her without letting it show.

She glanced at the mirror above the piano, she could just make out Luka standing behind her, half hidden in shadow. He looked completely at ease, his hands tucked into his pockets. But while he wasn’t touching her, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her ear. He was so close that the heat of him seemed to sear her back. It took all of her willpower to not lean back into him. She nodded once, focusing on his words carefully.

“Do you see the man at the mostly empty table?”

Another nod. He stood out like a sore thumb.

She could almost feel the tenseness of his jaw when he ground his teeth for just a second before he spoke again. “I need you to distract him. Do not let him see anyone leave from downstairs. You don’t need to do anything drastic. Just hold his attention.” 

She’d rather hold Luka’s attention. But she nodded anyway. Her heart was pounding. Did he feel what she felt? Did he know how he affected her? She met his eyes in the mirror. He mouthed the words, ‘Thank you,’ and his breath caressed her cheek once more before he vanished into the dark hall behind them. The cold that took his place in his absence kissed her bare shoulders the way she wished he would. Helpless to stop the shiver that ran through her just before she stepped onto the stage, she took another second to shove everything but the songs and her new instructions from her mind. She would sort out her feelings about Luka later.

Despite her efforts, Marinette’s head was full of Luka when she started to sing. She didn’t know who this other guy was, but it was obvious that he was dangerous—anger coated his features. And while Luka had asked for her help, she couldn’t help but think that he didn’t want her anywhere close to his mystery guest. There had been something, not new, but tangible between them lately since the rock incident. Since he’d called her family. Said her name. She had begun to hope that Luka saw her as more than a respected co-worker. 

Marinette let her gaze wander the room as she sang. Without Luka in the room, she didn’t know where to look. He had become her focus in several ways. Then she remembered the request. She needed to hold the attention of the dangerous guest. She turned her eyes on him, and let a smile dance across her lips as she met his gaze. 

He took the bait. Whoever he was, he was used to getting what he wanted. The moment she gave him her attention he took it carelessly, casually leaning back into his seat and offering her a wink as he tapped the ash from his cigarette. If not for Luka’s request, she would have ignored him the rest of the evening. As it was, she had to watch him cross his arms smugly as he openly appraised her. 

Blue moon, you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

And then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will hold

I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me"

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

Blue moon

Now I'm no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

The arch of his eyebrow as she finished the set was an invitation she wanted to ignore. To throw in his face. But she had to distract him. So she accepted it. The strapless dress had been a stretch for her, and now Marinette wished she was wearing just about anything else. 

Instead of leaving the stage and heading backstage, she sauntered slowly off stage toward the house and sat at his table; in order to be directly opposite the coat check door, she had to sit a little closer than she would have liked. On the plus side—she was an investigator. Maybe she could learn something.

“Evening. I don’t think I’ve seen you in the audience before.”

Something about him reminded her of Gabriel. An overbearing ego under a too-thin veneer of politeness, neither of which hid the glint of cruelty in his eye. 

He nodded, but kept his eyes on her, as if he hoped to learn as much from her as she wanted to learn from him.

“It’s my first visit. It’s a shame I’ve missed the opportunity to hear you sing until now.” He was too smooth, oily, and her skin crawled.

Marinette shifted back slightly, creating an air of casual relaxation while simultaneously putting a few more inches between them. “Well, thank you, Monsieur. I’m happy to say you haven’t missed much, I’ve only been performing here for a short while.”

“Maybe you’ve seen my wife.” The shift was abrupt. Whatever patience he had started this game with was running out. “She’s the one who recommended this club.”

“Is she joining you tonight? I’d love to meet her.” There was movement by the coat check door, and Marinette forced herself to keep her eyes on the man before her. She would not be the one to draw his attention to the secret basement.

“That’s the plan. She’s supposed to be here tonight.”

“Well, in that case, tell me what she looks like—I’ll help keep an eye out. You did manage to get one of our better tables though, so she shouldn’t have any trouble finding you.”

“She’s beautiful, of course.”

“Sure.” Marinette nodded. She didn’t like his tone, as if there was no way he would have married a woman who couldn’t be called beautiful by anyone and everyone. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the big doors open and close as someone quickly left the lounge. The gentleman kept glancing over her shoulder at the door that led to the hall and offices.

“Blond. A real Marilyn Monroe.”

“Sounds like I couldn’t miss her then.” 

Luka appeared behind the man, and Marinette looked up, grateful for the reprieve. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think the band is just about ready for you.”

“Duty calls. It was lovely to meet you, Mister…?”

“Simpson. Mister Reginald Simpson.”

“Mister Simpson, I hope you and your wife have a lovely night.”

The next set went well, and Mister Simpson’s wife never arrived. Marinette was pretty sure she knew what was going on. She hoped Missus Simpson was never found by her husband and was safe wherever she chose to go. Her eyes rarely strayed from Luka while she sang, and his smile reassured her. All would be well. 

Marinette hesitated at the doorway to Luka’s office. She needed to know the truth. And Luka had put her in a position where she could ask about it. No subterfuge required. She wanted to know. But she was terrified that if her suspicions were wrong, then what she felt for Luka was deeply misplaced. In short, she wanted to think well of him. 

She took a deep breath and rapped on the open door. “Luka?”

“Marinette!” He stood so quickly, it nearly upset his chair. Oddly enough, his nervousness put her at ease. He was always so assured and calm. Maybe she should have waited to use his first name, but she hadn’t wanted to go back to their formal address after that moment in front of her house. She wanted to move forward.

“Do you have time to talk?”

“Yes, of course.” He strode to the door, “Do you mind if I shut this?”

Marinette shook her head. “Not at all.”

Luka shut the door softly before tugging off his jacket and returning to his seat. Marinette tried not to admire the way he looked in his waistcoat and shirt sleeves. Tried to avoid thinking about how intimate it felt.

“I’m sorry.” Luka looked truly contrite. “I put you in a bad spot tonight. I shouldn’t have asked it of you, but he wasn’t supposed to be there, and we didn’t know what to do.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Luka was shaking his head. “No. No, it isn’t Marinette.”

“Who was he? Can you tell me?”

Luka nodded, looking relieved. “Yes. You deserve to know. When the wine cellar isn’t doubling as a casino, it’s a halfway house of sorts.” He took a deep breath. “A woman recently known as Audrey Simpson married young. Her husband is more than a few years older than her, and heavy-handed. She wanted out. Juleka prepared a suitcase with all the essentials. I helped her create a new identity, and Ma is taking her out of the state tonight. She gets to start a new life.”

“So that was her husband?”

Luka nodded. “It isn’t the first time a reluctant family member put two and two together and came up with the Liberty—though we are pretty good at avoiding suspicion. It is however one of the few times someone has shown up the night we needed to move someone. He’s the kind that might have killed her if he caught her running, which is also the reason we don’t always suggest divorce in these situations, though I know a lawyer or two for that purpose as well.”

“Then I’m happy I could help.” 

“And I still hate that I put you in a dangerous position without your knowledge. You’re brilliant, and you probably guessed half of it, but you should have been fully informed before I asked you to do it.”

Marinette nodded. It was true. It had been dangerous for her as well as for Audrey. If Reginald had spotted her, other patrons might have been caught in the fallout. 

“You’re right. But I’m glad I was able to help anyway. I might be feeling a little differently if something had gone sideways, but I won’t argue with the outcome. And if it’s bothering you, I forgive you for putting me in potential danger. I would have signed up to help if I’d been informed.”

Luka’s breath left him a rush of air, and he pulled in a slow, steady breath,  “Thank you, Marinette.”

“You’re welcome, Luka.”

Marinette had accurately guessed that the Couffaine family was running a halfway house. What she hadn’t realized was that it was more than that. The Liberty was a Sanctuary. 

1. best friend return to text

Chapter Text

The desk in the PI office was the best place to sort through all the details of the case, even with the typewriter taking up space, there was a huge amount of desktop still available. Or there had been before all her notes were spread out. Marinette scanned the information they had gathered, hoping to make sense of everything they had learned. No matter which way she looked at it, she couldn’t help but think they were investigating the wrong side. They might not have any physical evidence, but with Officer Roger Raincomprix’s testimony she knew that Gabriel Agreste was hiding more than he hoped to find (or pin!) on the Couffaines—she was sure of it. 

Gabriel must have known about the gambling before he hired them. But he wanted her to investigate it anyway. Why? He could have had a police detective look into it at any moment. He wanted to be a part of high society, but arresting the very people he wished to emulate would not help with that.

What if he knew about the halfway house? The Couffaines were performing a service to the women of the city as far as she was concerned. True, some of the people they helped were minors. Aiding runaways might go against the letter of the law, but these kids were in need of help. It seemed to her that it was all in the spirit of the law, and definitely on the side of humanity.

So what did Gabriel Agreste want her to find? Why did he want the Couffaines to go down? She made a list of what she knew Gabriel to be.

1. Police Commissioner (seemingly corrupt)
2. Father (of little skill and questionable intent)
3. Social Climber (see—late wife, Emilie Agreste)
4. Gold Digger (see—late wife, Emilie Agreste)
5. Racist (personal observation)
6. Manipulative (Akuma allegations)
7. Controlling (position in law enforcement/parental skills)

He also seemed to be the reason for the Akuma gang. Everything Gabriel had asked them to do had only led to her discovering things she was pretty sure he didn't want anyone to know.

Turning quickly to the filing cabinet, she rifled through the folders she had finally brought from home. A folder full of envelopes caught her attention—these weren’t supposed to be here. RETURN TO SENDER was stamped across three of them, the rest had never been mailed.

“Maman?”

“ Oui ? What is it?”

My mother was always ready to listen, to help. I knew she would have the answer. “What does ‘Return to Sender’ mean?” I held out a letter I had sent to Kagami weeks ago, but it had come back! That was not how letters were supposed to work.

Maman’s eyebrows dipped into a worried frown as she looked at the envelope, and suddenly instead of simply curious—I was afraid. Maman always exuded peace, it flowed out of her and made me feel safe. But this was not peace.

“It means the Postman could not find the correct recipient.” 

I frowned. Kagami had given me her uncle’s address when she moved. If she had moved house again, she would have sent her new address with her last letter. Or in a new one. “Why couldn’t he find her?”

Maman hesitated for a second. “Sometimes mail gets lost. Or mixed up. Go ahead and try again. If it comes back again, then we’ll see what we can find out. Alright?”

I nodded, accepting the unsatisfying answer. What else was there to do? I was very careful to copy her address onto a fresh envelope in my best handwriting so it would be easy to read and no one would be confused. I triple-checked it to make sure it matched the one on the piece of paper written in Kagami’s elegant writing that I had tucked safely into my address book. 

When my first letter came back I wrote two new letters, one to Kagami to update her on all that she had missed since the last letter she had received, and one to her uncle directly. It was his house. If Kagami had moved, surely he would know where to find her. 

Both of them were returned several weeks later. I stopped sending the letters when my questions made Papa and Maman look sad, but I never stopped writing them. I swore then that I would become a detective so that I could find my friend.

Years had settled over the paper, breaking the seal of the old glue. Marinette ran a hand over it almost reverently. Tucked behind the envelopes was the newspaper clipping that had finally put an end to her letter writing. She pulled out the article.

WWII IS OVER BUT THE WAR ON JOBS HAS BEGUN

Returning soldiers face competition with recently released Japanese-American interns. Our boys went through hell and back only to find no place at home. With the War Wives taking over the offices and manufacturing during the war it was already going to be a challenge for the hard-working men of America to find positions at home. But now the cities that housed potential Japanese threats find themselves besieged by men looking for work…

Marinette’s parents had not hidden a lot from her, but they had hidden the news of the internment camps. There was nothing they could do, and they had wanted to protect her from the idea that immigrant children in America were not safe. She had been angry. But they had been correct about one thing—there was nothing she could do. She had spent years trying to find out where Kagami’s family might have been sent, but information was scarce and all but inaccessible.

A solid rapping at the office door pulled Marinette from her reverie and she slid the drawer shut and looked through the frosted glass to see a woman’s silhouette. She really wished the hall had a light. Maybe they could get the superintendent to do something about that. Smoothing her skirt as she walked, she opened the door slowly, but blocked the view of the paper-strewn desk. “Can I help…” the rest of the sentence died in her throat. Kagami Tsurugi was standing at her door.

While friends, the girls had never been cut from the same cloth. Where Kagami was calm and precise, Marinette had always been enthusiastic and flexible. Both girls had grown into young women, shaped carefully by their differing experiences but at their core, they had remained largely unchanged. Marinette squealed and launched herself at her friend, capturing her in a hug. Kagami did not flinch, and while Marinette couldn’t see it, a small smile quirked her lips for a moment. 

“You are largely unchanged, tomodachi.” There was restrained amusement in Kagami’s voice despite the stillness of her form.

Marinette stepped back, her face split in a wide smile, though tears glistened at the corner of her eyes. “You’re alive! I tried so hard to find you. But so many records were lost or destroyed. Kagami, meillure copine , I missed you so much!” She hugged her briefly once more before she tugged her into the office and offered a seat. “I can’t believe you're here.”

“Your mother told me where to find you. I am glad to see the bakery is doing well.”

Marinette perched on the edge of her seat, hardly able to contain herself, it was a struggle to find the right words, to sum up and ask about the last decade they had been apart. 

“Where..? How..? Is your mother well? It’s so good to see you.”

Kagami’s shoulders dipped ever so slightly and Marinette’s heart dropped at the sight. “Mother did not survive the harshness of the Camp. Her blindness was enough of a cage, the addition of iron bars and the loss of respect broke her spirit. The first harsh illness took care of the rest.”

Tears slipped over the edges of Marinette’s eyes. “Oh, Gami, I am so sorry.”

“Thank you, Marinette. While it is good to see you again, I am hoping you can help me.”

Marinette straightened up and composed herself, she would do anything she could! “What is it?”

“Are you still in contact with the Agreste family? I know you befriended their son.”

Marinette nodded. “Adrien and I have been working to open this detective agency together.”

Kagami nodded. “Before we left, Mother sold the company to Mister Agreste for safekeeping. He promised to resell it to her at cost when everything settled down. I was unaware of this arrangement until recently. I have been learning to read braille so that I could translate Mother’s old diaries. I stopped by the old holdings as outlined in the sales agreement, and it looks as if most are vacant. I cannot help but think that they have been sold off. I would like to find a way to redress this betrayal.”

Marinette was appalled at the revelation, but considering what she knew of Gabriel’s character, she wasn’t surprised. Though, Mrs. Tsurugi had been a shrewd businesswoman—so Marinette was a little surprised that Mrs. Tsurugi had done business with such a man. They had moved quickly, perhaps there had simply not been enough time.

“Do you have records of all the agreements?”

“I do. Mother kept things in triplicate. While many of our possessions were lost while we were interred at Heart Mountain, she kept a safe deposit box here in the city. It should prove everything.”

Marinette smiled, Kagami had always been intelligent and resourceful. “It sounds like you managed all the sleuthing yourself. What you need is a lawyer, and I know someone who might know who to talk to.” Luka had mentioned a lawyer—whether his associate was someone who could help with this, she wasn’t sure, but where better to start than a man who was connected to almost everyone in the city and spent his spare time rescuing people?

The journey to the Liberty didn’t take long, and Marinette managed to get Kagami to open up a little. It was still illegal to make katanas outside of Japan, but she hoped to start production on Japanese style fine quality household and professional kitchen knives to continue the family legacy in a new way. 

“I will be able to employ skilled craftsmen who had their lives uprooted like we did. I think Mother would appreciate the honor in revitalizing the old and making it new.”

“That’s brilliant! If you can get the buildings and equipment back, then I know you will succeed.”

A restrained head nod was all Kagami offered her. “Thank you, my friend, but I must take this one step at a time to avoid getting ahead of myself.”

“Right. Well, this is the Liberty!” Marinette paid the cab fare and the girls walked around to the back. 

“Tell me why you think this man can help.”

“Luka cares. And he sees. He sees how things are and how they should be and he understands the steps to take to make them better. More importantly, he does something about it. You’ll understand when you meet him.”

Kagami stopped and grabbed her arm. “Do you care for this ‘Luka’?”

Blushing at her transparency, Marinette nodded. “I do. It’s complicated right now, but I care for him a great deal.”

“Does he care for you?”

She hesitated but decided to answer as truthfully as she could. “I believe so. We don’t have any kind of specific understanding just now, but I believe he does, though that could be wishful thinking on my part.”

“Then I am glad to have this opportunity to meet him. Even if he is unable to help me, I would like to make sure he is worthy of my oldest friend.”

A spark of unease traveled through her at the pronouncement and Marinette hoped Kagami was able to make up her mind about Luka without scaring him away. Not that she could picture him backing down. No, Luka’s determination was likely an excellent match for whatever Kagami decided to say or do. 

Ivan opened the door for them when she rapped. “Afternoon, Mari. Boss is in his office if you’re looking for him, and Pierre has appetizers in the kitchen if you're hungry.”

“Thanks, Ivan. I’m going to see if Mister Couffaine has a minute.”

“For you, I am sure he does.”

Kagami’s soft snort might not have sounded like a laugh to anyone else, but Marinette knew that sound even after all their years apart. Kagami was bound to tease her later about how everyone in the place was aware of Luka’s supposed affection for her—so much so that she was sure Marinette was beginning to believe it herself. She was definitely hoping it was true.

Marinette stuck her head into Luka’s open office. “Mister Couffaine?”

He stood with a smile, “Mari—ah.” When Kagami appeared behind her, Luka shifted his address quickly, “Miss Dupain-Cheng. What can I do for you?”

She made introductions and explained Kagami’s plight and shared her concerns about Gabriel’s likely unwillingness to assist her. “Mister Agreste has always been... politely hostile towards Maman and I, and I would not be surprised if he always planned to go back on his word to Mrs. Tsurugi.”

Luka was perfectly professional for the whole conversation, reminding Marinette of their first meeting. He turned to Kagami. “I can only imagine what you have lived through, Miss Tsurugi. I know one or two people who have worked with wartime reparations, and I’m fairly certain that Bernard Knox would be willing to take your case. He likes to win, and since you have the original documents, it should make a reasonable job for anyone who knows what they're about. I can make an appointment for you if you’d like. Then I’d be happy to assist as necessary or let you take it from there.”

Kagami smirked at her when they left the office. She had successfully procured Mister Knox’s contact information and had a meeting scheduled for later in the week. “You are right. Your Luka is very observant. He will treat you well. You’ll both be ridiculously romantic, I’m sure, but you will suit one another. I’m glad you found each other.”

They slipped into the dressing room so Marinette could drop off the last couple of dresses she had finished—she wanted Rose to be able to borrow them if she wished. She gasped at the sheer audacity of her friend’s statement, “What! And he isn’t my Luka. Gami, you can’t know that. You just met him.” 

“Yes, and I was able to observe others who have known him longer. If I were in the habit of making silly wagers, I’d bet he fell for you the minute he laid eyes on you.”

Laughing eyes met hers when Juleka stepped out from behind a stack of hat boxes. Marinette groaned at the look in her friend’s expression. Then in an unprecedented act, Juleka spoke to Kagami. 

“I like your suit.”

Marinette swallowed her shock and introduced the girls. She studied Juleka for a second. “You know, I could make something like it for you. A black suit with wide trousers and a violet waistcoat. I believe you would look rather fierce.”

Juleka blinked at her. “You could?” 

Marinette nodded and pointed out the gowns she had dropped off. “When I was little, I wanted to design clothes. While I was unable to find a fashion house willing to take me, I still enjoy making my own things. Rose is letting me make her a dress. I can’t wait to show her the design and talk fabric—I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

Juleka studied the dresses before looking at her in awe. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?” 

Marinette smiled and shook her head. “You’re my friend. I’d love to do it.”

“Alright.” Juleka smirked mischievously. “Send the bill to Luka once it’s done.” Juleka turned to Kagami. “You would have won the wager.”

A triumphant smile spread across Kagami’s face and Marinette hauled her out of the lounge before anyone could embarrass her further.

They spent the rest of the day catching up and eliminating the years and miles that had separated them. One thing Kagami said stuck with her though, and made her consider her friendship with Adrien carefully. 

“I might not have known Adrien, but from what little I do remember of him, and what you’ve shared, I can’t help but think that he views your friendship as some kind of rebellion. You are the one thing in his life his father cannot control—and since he doesn’t have the spine to stand up to him, he relies on you to do it.”

She had tried to deny it, but she couldn’t seem to shake the idea that Kagami might be right.

“We are invited to a night of gambling, M’Lady!”

Marinette bumped the return on the keyboard and the typewriter clanged and jumped to the next line, startling her almost more than Adrien’s sudden arrival and announcement.

“You have got to stop bursting in here, Kitty! You scared me.” She realigned the page carefully so she could finish typing up her notes with everything she and Luka had learned about the Akuma gang to hand over to the sheriff. “Now, what’s this about gambling?”

“Sorry about the scare, but listen to this! Misters Astor and Sloan have invited me to join them at the Liberty. We’re in Bugsy!”

“What? How? Why? I can’t go, I’ll be recognized as a performer.”

“Sure you can! You’ll be my plus one. We will have perfect eyewitness accounts of the gambling ring to tell the commissioner about. The case will be closed, you can quit singing and we can finally hang our shingle and take a new case—a real case!” 

Her mind whirled through all the implications of Adrien’s plan. She didn’t want to quit singing. She would miss her Liberty family. And besides—the gambling wouldn’t stop, the city's millionaires would simply find a new location if the Liberty’s basement operations were closed, and worse—their funding for smuggling out battered women and children would be lost. She had all but discounted the gambling. She wanted to stop the Akuma gang, weed out the corrupt police, and find out why Gabriel had it in for the Couffaines. 

She shook her head with a frown. “I don’t understand. How did you get an invitation?”

“I turn twenty-one next month.”

That explained nothing. “Yes. I know when your birthday is, but what does that have to do with gambling with the likes of Astor and Sloane?!”

Adrien looked at her, unblinking, and Marinette racked her brain for what his birthday had to do with anything.

“Bugsy, my trust fund kicks in on my birthday. I’ll be nearly as much of a millionaire as any of them. They want to befriend me now, so I’ll choose one of their vapid daughters to marry or something.”

“Trust fund?”

“Yeah. Didn’t I ever tell you?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Marinette was shocked. If Adrien had a trust fund that his dad couldn’t touch, then that offered a whole new slew of reasons for his behavior. “Has your father been in charge of it all this time?”

“No, Mother arranged it when they married. It was to be split between any and all heirs, but there was only me, so…” he left off in a one-armed shrug, the sting of loneliness apparent in his downcast eyes.

She squeezed his hand in sympathy. “Right.” 

“Anyway. It was to ensure her kids would be taken care of, no matter the financial status of her husband. Her father, my grandfather, insisted on it.”

“What about the commissioner?”

“Oh, Father has a stipend or something, and he’s a well-respected police commissioner—it’s not as if he can’t support himself.”

Yes. Gabriel Agreste was a police commissioner who had grown accustomed to the finer things in life when he married an heiress and followed her through grand circles. He had spent the years since her death trying to keep his place in society, but was kept at the fringes, only invited when it suited the needs of the likes of Astor, Sloan, and Haughton. No wonder Gabriel had kept such a tight leash on his son. Adrien was his golden goose. It was likely Gabriel wanted to take control of Adrien’s inheritance once he came of age. This invitation was proof that Adrien would be socially recognized as Emilie’s heir, in a way that Gabriel had failed to achieve by being her widower. Adrien was already being pulled into the circle where his mother had once held court. All of a sudden it made perfect sense that Gabriel was using the Akuma gang to pad his bank account until he gained access to Adrien’s trust. He had likely planned on the gang being a temporary measure, and had never anticipated the gang getting so far out of his control.

“It won’t work. We can’t shut down the Liberty.” It would ruin everything! She had to tell Luka the truth, she had to save the lounge. Too many people depended on him. She wanted to help, not become part of the problem. 

“C’mon! Of course, we can! You can beg off singing on Thursday, right? Make up that red satin and we’ll pull off the most amazing sting operation in New York history.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, this would hardly be the biggest anything. “Adrien? Did they actually say it was a gambling night?”

“C’mon, Mari. You know they wouldn’t say it out loud. But we know the drill, don’t we?”

She sighed. Now what? What would Luka and the rest of her new friends think of her once they found out she was nothing more than a spy?

Chapter Text

“I’m going on a vacation with Mother!”

I looked at Adrien in surprise. His dad was the police commissioner. Were commissioners allowed to go on vacation? Didn’t the city need him?

“Are commissioners allowed to take vacations?”

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just going to be Mother and me. I get her all to myself the entire trip!”

“How long will you be gone?” I glanced at the imposing gate that separated the fancy house and the rest of the city. I really didn’t want to come around if only Mister Agreste was going to be here. 

“I don’t know. Mother hasn’t told me all the details yet. But we leave on Friday. Will you stop by in the morning to say goodbye?”

“It’s a long walk for a little goodbye. Wouldn’t it be better if I came to play on Thursday?”

“I’ll be packing. I don’t know if there will be time.”

“Oh, alright.” Friendship was worth a walk.

Adrien’s face was tear-stained. He almost looked sick.

“What’s wrong, Kitty?” 

“Mother took ill. Our trip is canceled, and Father won’t even let me see her. He fears I’ll take sick as well.”

I couldn’t imagine not being able to help take care of Maman if she were ill. “Oh! Adrien! That’s terrible. Has a doctor come to see her?”

Adrien frowned. “Of course! Father always takes care of us!”

I flinched at the anger behind his words. He was probably scared. “Sorry, Kitty. I was just wondering.”

“No, it’s alright, Bugsy. I’m glad you’re here. Father doesn’t have time for me since he’s caring for Mother.”

The next time I visited, I followed the sounds of sniffling to a flowering shrub. “Adrien?” I could barely see him. If not for the sobs that wracked his body, I might never have found him curled up under the bush, tears staining his face. 

“She’s gone, Marinette. Mother’s gone.”

I crawled under the branches and wrapped my arms around my friend. There were no words for this kind of hurt. I cried with him until an angry shout sent him scurrying back inside the house. I waited until the yard was empty to leave the hiding place and go home. 

Adrien might have understood Marinette’s reticence if she told him what the Liberty was doing with the casino funds, or he might have felt betrayed. Either way, how could she share someone else’s secret? 

Marinette gripped her clutch tightly as she rapped on the doorframe of Luka’s office.

“Hey, Songbird.” 

Luka glanced up from his desk with a smile so bright that if she had been there for any other reason she might have blurted out how much she admired and... cared for him. As it was, Marinette felt sick. This was more terrifying than the first time she met Gabriel, far scarier than her trial by fire audition. Luka was beautiful, he always looked younger and more carefree with his shirt sleeves rolled up. And now she had to find the words that would make him despise her. She tugged at the hem of her blouse, trying desperately to keep him from noticing her shaking hands. It didn’t work, of course. Luka had always been observant.

He was there in an instant, having covered the distance between them in a few quick strides, he held her hands, trying to help the moment he noticed her distress. “Woah. What’s wrong Marinette? How can I help?” 

There was nothing but kindness and concern in those blue eyes of his and she felt all the worse for it. Her voice came out in a choked whisper, “I’m sorry, Luka. I think I’ve ruined everything.”

“Impossible, I can’t imagine you hurting anything or anyone.”

A sob caught in her throat and she shook her head vehemently. “I’m not a singer. And now I’ve endangered everyone at the Liberty.”

He inhaled, surprised, but didn’t seem to understand. “You were born to sing, Marinette. No one doubts that.”

“I’m a Private Eye, Luka. Or I was trying to be, but I took the wrong job.”

Luka’s eyebrows knit together and he dropped her hands. “What job?”

Her breath came out in a shaky stream before finding her voice. “Commissioner Agreste asked me to look into the Liberty. I’ve been undercover since the first day I walked into your office.”

Marinette jumped when the door swung shut with a click that felt much louder than it was in reality. “Please, have a seat, Miss Dupain-Cheng, and tell me everything.” Luka’s voice was calm and even, and she appreciated it more than ever, even if the use of her last name broke her heart.

She nodded. He deserved the whole truth, and she was just relieved that he was willing to listen to her. 

It was a long story. But Luka listened to every word, only interrupting to ask a question or two. 

“Whatever Gabriel is up to with the Akuma gangs, whatever reason he has for going after the lounge, it's all so much worse than a little gambling ring. And my interference could do unspeakable damage to all the good your family is doing in this city. And now that Adrien knows about the casino and has a plan to out you, he just wants to finish the job. I don’t know how to stop it. He wants to please his father so badly, I don’t think he cares about the truth. At least not enough to let go.”

Luka nodded, understanding in his eyes. But his question was unexpected. “Are you leaving?”

Marinette shook her head and blinked a few times, trying to process the question. Was he letting her make that choice? Would she be allowed to stay? “I’d like to stay. If—if you still want me.”

Luka’s eyes pierced through whatever armor she had left. “I do.”

She felt breathless. Luka was too good to rail at her, but she had half-expected him to ask her to leave and never come back. “Okay.” 

He leaned forward, catching his chin in the steeple of his hands. “Do you trust me, Marinette?”

Relief rushed through her when he used her given name and she nodded, of course she did! He was wonderful. “Yes. Luka, I trust you—and I’ll do just about anything to fix this.”

“You want to stop Gabriel, without hurting your friend, right?”

“If at all possible.”

“Okay then. Let Adrien escort you, let him see the operation. Hell, bring Gabriel and the sheriff. We can take the slap on the wrist—and he won’t be able to say a thing with his ‘friends’ in attendance. Let it play out. Then find the proof you need to take down the commissioner for his crimes. Everything is going to be fine.”

It ended up being simpler than they’d thought. Adrien’s invitation was for the following Thursday, and there wasn’t a plan for the casino to be open at all. 

“It’s a private party,” Luka explained. “They come often enough to gamble, so the gents like to host the occasional shindig in the lounge to explain it away. I think this excuse is the celebration of Sloan’s daughter’s twenty-first birthday.”

Marinette couldn’t stop a small laugh. “Adrien was sure he was being invited to ingratiate him to the family for the express purpose of tying him to one of the heiresses. I almost can’t wait to see his face when that’s exactly what this turns out to be.”

Luka chuckled lightly. “Will you still be onstage? Or should I see if Rose is free?”

Marinette considered the options. It was so much easier to get dressed at the club than travel all put together. She would have Adrien escorting her, but she never appreciated the looks she got for ‘dressing above her station.’ “I can do one set, if Rose is willing to do the second. The party doesn’t begin until later anyway.”

“I can arrange that.”

A moment passed. Tense and hopeful and terrifying. “Luka?”

“Yes, Marinette?”

She didn’t know how to voice what she felt. She wanted to know if they were okay. If he could forgive her for her duplicity. If they had a chance at romance someday. She shook her head, negating her words. “Nevermind. Thank you.”

Luka studied her for a moment, but let her get away with her cowardice. “Sure. Come by early tomorrow, and I’ll show you what I have on Agreste and the Akuma gang. Once the Liberty is out of the legal limelight, we can bring our information to the sheriff and put a stop to Agreste and his Akumas.”

Despite everything, Marinette pleaded once more with Adrien to drop the case—ignore Gabriel and move on. He had already arranged for Sheriff Coltrane to meet them at the Liberty for the ‘sting.’ Unwilling to give up any secrets not pertaining to the specific financial details Gabriel had given them, Marinette didn’t have enough to convince him, and Adrien wasn’t willing to let it go. Marinette resisted the urge to tell him about the safe house. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—refuse knowing what she did, could he? She wasn’t sure. And she hated herself for it. But it was not her secret to tell, so regardless of her feelings and fears, she kept it quiet. 

“I want to drop the case, Adrien. We should tell your father we quit and focus on the Akuma gang. Let’s do something good !”

Adrien shook his head. “We can’t give up on our first case! We aren’t the police, Mari. We are Private Investigators. We were hired to do a job. We do it, and we’re done. If you want, once we’re done, we can mention the Akuma stuff to the sheriff and let him sort it out.”

Her heart sank. “Please?”

“Look, I’m sorry. But I just want to finish the case we were hired to do.”

Adrien had been furious when she told him that she had reason to believe the commissioner was responsible for the gang. 

“I know you don’t like my father, Mari. I know he isn’t perfect. But he can’t be as bad as that. Not like you’re suggesting. After we show the sheriff what’s going on at the lounge, I’ll talk to Father. I am sure we can figure it out.”

She knew nothing useful would come from talking to Gabriel, so in the end she gave up. She finished her dress for the ‘sting,’ and chose to rely on Luka to protect the Liberty and their family. She would go through the motions, satisfy her partner, and move on.

The next morning dawned gray and damp. The perfect counterpoint to her mood. Her shoes and stockings were damp by the time she arrived at the lounge to go over the details of the Akuma case. At least the files she’d brought to share were still dry—having traveled safely tucked under her peacoat.

Luka and Mister Bernard Knox, Kagami’s lawyer, had managed to get a look at Gabriel’s bank accounts. Marinette did not ask how. His attempts at keeping up with the circles he had run in while Emilie was living had taken its toll on him financially, and he was nearly broke. While it looked like he had tried to find a buyer for the Tsurugi holdings, nothing had panned out, and they had fallen into disrepair by the lack of maintenance and use. Gabriel had been willing to sell the holdings back to Kagami, but at a much inflated price. Kagami and Mister Knox were well on their way to taking Gabriel to court to make things right by the original agreement with Mrs. Tsurugii, but it would take a little bit of time to organize all the details. He believed that the Akuma case would only strengthen all other charges leveled against him, and had been happy to offer his advice and time.

Marinette huffed, and dropped the pages she had been perusing; it was futile to try to find some other guilty party when all the clues pointed to Gabriel Agreste. Not only did they have Officer Raincomprix’s testimony, but there didn’t appear to be anyone else benefitting from the arrangement. “Money is a strong motivator—Gabriel has every reason to have formed the gang. Not to mention the resources.” 

Luka reached over and squeezed her arm comfortingly. “I know you wanted to protect your friend…”

She shook her head. Adrien refused to listen to her, and she knew that Gabriel needed to be stopped. “I wanted the truth. We have it. And once the sheriff knows, then something can be done to stop Gabriel and the Akuma gang.” 

Mister Knox snapped his briefcase shut. “I’ll draw up a report and issue it to Coltrane. He might have to involve a few other precincts—the Akumas covered a lot of ground. But I think we have enough here for them to make some arrests pretty swiftly. Officer Roger Raincomprix’s willingness to help us will be an excellent asset.”

Marinette hesitated for a moment. “If someone goes to Sheriff Coltrane and accuses the Couffaines of illegal activity, will that impact our chances of stopping Gabriel and the Akumas?”

Knox looked at her carefully, then glanced at Luka. “I don’t want to know why you’re asking that question. As long as these hypothetical allegations don’t interfere with the details of the case, everything should be fine.” 

He leveled one more look at Luka before he left. “Call me if you need anything.”

Luka shook his hand. “Thanks, Bernard.”

“Least I could do, considering all you and yours do for this city. Take care, Kid.” 

Left alone with Luka, Marinette wasn’t sure what to say or do. Rose was singing the next couple of nights and she wasn’t scheduled until Thursday. He had done so much to help—not just her of course, but everyone that Gabriel’s selfishness had impacted. 

Luka must have sensed her worries. “Everything is going to be okay, Marinette.”

“How do you know?”

“No matter how often evil tries to prevail, it never does. Not for long anyway. Until the law alone takes care of the people who most need it, those of us who choose to champion good will be there to help out. You are one of those people, little Songbird.”

“Even though I almost ruined everything?”

“You have done nothing but make the best choices with the information you’ve had since I met you. I’m glad you came to the Liberty.”

“I am too. I just wish—”  she didn’t know how to voice her thoughts.

Luka bent and pressed the softest kiss to her cheekbone. “Everything is just as it should be.”

With her heart in her throat and too overwhelmed to find words, Marinette caught a breath and nodded before slipping out the door. Time would tell soon enough.

The red satin was made up, Adrien had called the sheriff to meet them at the Liberty and even with Luka okay with it, Marinette wished none of it was happening. 

“Adrien,” Marinette started to speak, but she didn’t know how to finish. She’d been hoping so hard that he would see it. That she wouldn’t have to spell it out. That he would be open to not following through with the ‘sting’ operation. They had been over this, but she had to try one more time. “It isn’t the Liberty or the Couffaine family that deserves to go down.”

Adrien bristled. He knew. Of course he did. He wasn’t stupid. But he didn’t want to face the facts. Maybe he just wanted to succeed at their first case. “That was the job.” 

“I know. But I told you at the beginning that we were going to find the truth. We found it. The Liberty Lounge is not some great evil.”

“And is the Liberty operating completely above board?” he countered, shoulders stiff.

“The Couffaines are helping this city.” He knew about some of it, but the halfway house wasn’t her secret to share. “The commissioner is hurting it. Intentionally.”

“The commissioner? My father. Bugsy. Mari, please. The commissioner is my father.”

“Kitty. I know. I do. But he’s wrong. The things he’s doing are hurting people. And it’s not a misunderstanding or an accident, it’s calculated and cruel. And I hate to say this so bluntly, but he’s never seen you as anything more than a pawn to be used for his own machinations.“ 

When he winced, Marinette tried to soften her tone a little. “Maybe, sometimes, he sees your mom in you. But he’s never loved you more than his aspirations.”

Adrien straightened. A mask of resolve settled over his face and he grabbed her by the shoulders, staring her straight in the eye. “We are going to finish this. We, as partners, are going to the Liberty tonight, and when the sheriff shows up, he’s going to see what’s going on there, and this case will be over. I know my father isn’t perfect, and once we have done this job, we can look into whatever you want.”

“Don’t you want to be one of the good guys, Adrien?”

“We aren’t the police, Mari. We are private investigators. We were hired to do a job. We do it, and we’re done. I already told you—we can talk to the sheriff about the Akuma stuff and let him sort it out.”

“But—”

“I just want to finish this case.”

Marinette watched as he stormed out of the office. She looked around at the freshly organized office, so much nicer than it had been all those weeks ago. It was clean. The filing cabinet was in place. The typewriter looked so professional sitting on the enormous desk. The lamps provided enough light to work by, and the remaining shadows offered a certain degree of subtlety to potentially nervous clients. She nudged one of the leather-covered chairs regretfully. She had looked forward to taking cases here. Too bad that was never going to happen. 

She would follow through with Adrien’s plan, but the sheriff wouldn’t find anything unscrupulous in the whole place, unless Commissioner Agreste showed up of course. 

Red satin twirled around her, and while Marinette liked the way Luka’s eyes lit up when he saw her, she hoped she would have no reason to run tonight. The material had been tricky to work with, but it had come together beautifully. The scalloped sweetheart neckline flowed into princess seams that hugged her subtle curves before flaring into a dramatic mermaid silhouette. It was perfect for her short performance tonight before joining Adrien in their ‘sting’ operation. She should look well enough on his arm to not stand out with his company too terribly. But first, she had a few songs to sing. 

It was a little unnerving. The stage seemed bigger, the lights warmer than usual. She hadn’t sung since she told Luka the truth, and she wasn’t entirely sure where they stood—although the gentleness of his kiss still tingled on her cheek and gave her hope. That hope gave her courage.

Of course, the fears fell away the moment she found her spot in front of the microphone and met Luka’s eyes with her first note. His presence had always made her feel calm and sure of herself. Tonight was no different. Well almost no different. Her first couple of songs were upbeat, and couples hit the dance floor while she sang. She could see one table where the group gathered there was singing along. Then, the tone of the room shifted as the piano softened with the song she had asked Mister John to play tonight. With everything else happening, she wanted Luka to know where she stood. In essence, she wanted to return his kiss. The music swelled dramatically and Marinette locked eyes with the man who had inadvertently stolen her heart.

Unforgettable, that's what you are

Unforgettable, though near or far

Like a song of love that clings to me

How the thought of you does things to me

Luka’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but Marinette could make out the slow smile that lit up his face when she held his eyes while she sang. There was nothing she wanted more than for Luka to know how she felt.

Never before has someone been more

Unforgettable in every way

And forevermore 

That's how you'll stay 

That's why, darling, it's incredible

That someone so unforgettable,

Thinks that I am- unforgettable too

She took it one step further, and briefly pressed her gloved hand to her lips as she sang the word ‘darling.’ Luka missed a step and almost stumbled where he walked. 

No, never before has someone been more

Ooh, unforgettable 

In every way 

And forevermore 

That's how you'll stay 

Luka had stopped his slow amble, and was standing stock still while she sang. She forced herself to focus on the words instead of the look in his eyes. 

That's why, darling, it's incredible

That someone so unforgettable

Thinks that I am unforgettable too

Marinette didn’t let Luka out of her sight until she took her bow. When she looked back up, he was halfway across the room, making a beeline for the wings. She smiled at the applause, and with a final bow she walked off stage to meet Luka. Hopefully, he understood what she had been trying to convey.

His eyes were soft and she smiled, blushing, and felt suddenly shy without the song to help her find the right words. 

Luka took her hand and pressed a kiss to her gloved fingertips.  “You are the prettiest crooner the Liberty has ever had.”

Fearing her cheeks would match her dress, she tried to downplay his compliment. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Luka shook his head slowly, and she knew wasn’t the kind of man to lead her on. “You’re the only Melody that keeps me up at night.”

“Mari!” Rose’s voice startled both of them, and it was with regret that Marinette pulled away from Luka to acknowledge the vivacious vocalist. “You have a friend looking for you!” 

“Thank you, Rose.” Adrien was here. It was time for everything to come tumbling down.

Adrien looked good. He looked exactly like the man his father wanted him to be. Perfectly starched collar and shiny cufflinks winked at the edges of his coat sleeves. Gone was the boy who had climbed trees with her, and even the man willing to dig through dusty papers seemed to be missing tonight. He looked every inch the socialite. Marinette didn’t like it. Something had broken between them when she admitted she didn’t want to take down the Liberty and preferred to put Gabriel behind bars. Becoming private eyes had been an adventure that would utilize their skills in a variety of ways, but it hadn’t taken long for their adventure to tarnish.  

The red satin that draped her offset his black coat perfectly. Adrien beamed at her, sweeping her onto his arm, as if she belonged there. And maybe for this one purpose in this one moment, she did. She would play her part, and then the curtain would fall. It took all of her poise to act naturally when Adrien introduced her to Misters Astor and Haughton. She felt uncomfortably like a China doll on display and wondered if Adrien really didn’t get it, or if maybe he just figured she was used to it. She had found him to be a good friend because he didn’t talk down to her or treat her badly as a child, but now his obliviousness rankled. Luka had never treated her like he didn’t see how she was different, he treated her as if he valued those differences. The comparison was startling. She had never realized how Adrien had only sort of pretended that she was just like him instead of trying to see the world from her vantage point.

He seemed so happy to be here. As if achieving everything his father had ever wanted was his goal. Maybe his acting was that good. Adrien did not yet realize that his plans had already fallen through. The elite crowd never stayed in the main hall on gambling nights. They might grab a drink before stopping by the coat check to disappear, but that was it. Even if Adrien snuck downstairs, there would be nothing to find. The basement was nothing more than a large, well-stocked, and surprisingly clean wine cellar whenever it wasn’t being utilized as a halfway house or casino. 

It wasn’t all Adrien’s fault. Nothing about the halfway house was unethical, so Marinette had not included it in her briefings to Adrien—choosing instead to protect the privacy of the operation for the sake of those that needed it. Why would Gabriel care about it? And why would Adrien want to save an illegal casino if he didn’t know exactly what it was supporting?

All of Adrien’s plans were about to fall through. There wasn’t anything illegal happening at the lounge tonight. It was clean. It was also hosting a high-end soiree in honor of Elizabeth Haughton’s twenty-first birthday. 

Curiosity still thrummed through Marinette as she made nice with Adrien and his acquaintances. The only thing Marinette hadn’t figured out yet was why Gabriel Agreste cared so much about taking down the Liberty. There were bigger underground casinos in the city. He could shut down the Couffaines, but the players had too much money to fall. And Gabriel would never be invited into the inner circle once he’d gone through with this. 

“May I have this dance, M’Lady?”

“Sure, of course.” Rose had taken her place on stage, and her smile lit up the room, along with the fun lyrics of her first number. Marinette followed Adrien’s lead dutifully, bracing herself to answer the question she knew was coming. 

“When do you think we go downstairs? How long do they usually wait?”

She took a deep breath. “They don’t wait. Not ever. The casino isn’t operating tonight.”

“What?!” Adrien hissed.

She explained it carefully, while anger slowly clouded Adrien’s features. “You were invited to a party for Haughton’s daughter. Champagne and schmoozing. There isn’t any gambling tonight.”

The song came to an end and she stepped back just as Luka appeared before her, holding his hand out. “Dance with me?”

She nodded, and he whisked her away. Her face relaxed into a genuine smile, and a molten sort of happiness filled her veins as Luka swept her onto the dance floor as the tempo slowed and Rose sang an old song, popularized early in the war, a song about timeless love. Marinette let her guard down and fell into Luka’s eyes. 

Moonlight and love songs,

Never out of date,

Hearts full of passion,

Jealousy and hate,

Woman needs man, and man must have his mate,

There's no one can deny.

It's still the same old story,

A fight for love and glory,

A case of do or die,

The world will always welcome lovers,

As time goes by.

Never had she enjoyed a dance as much as that one. The soft smile on Luka’s face as he released her made her heart beat faster. This was what she wanted.

“Mari.” Adrien’s voice startled her, she’d all but forgotten why they were here. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Luka relinquished her with an understanding nod, and she turned to Adrien. 

“What are you doing? The sheriff will be here any minute!”

With a glance at the party they’d been attending, she led him out the back to the dark, chilly alley. 

“It doesn’t matter, Adrien. There is nothing for him to see.”

“And what was all that anyway? Dancing with him? You came here with me tonight, Marinette. A lady doesn’t dance with just anybody when she’s come out with a fella.”

“We came to do a job, this isn’t a date. And I keep telling you, I’m not a lady, Adrien! I’m never going to be who you want me to be.”

“With me, you can be!”

“That isn’t what I want. I can’t do this Adrien. I can’t watch your father squeeze the life out of you. I found family here. There’s room for more—for you—if you want.”

Adrien grabbed her by the shoulders. “I’m not your brother, Marinette. I’ve loved you for so long, and you won’t see it.”

Marinette flinched. She did see it. She saw how he thought, how he acted. Every joke he’d ever made about making a lady out of her had been a desperate plea that she wished would go away. Adrien was desperate for love and had looked for it anywhere he saw kindness. “You only think you love me, Adrien. But we’re friends, best friends. We could never be lovers. Your father never taught you how to love, not rightly anyway.” 

“Love doesn’t have to be taught, Bugsy.” Adrien yanked her closer and she tried to pull back, but he was fueled by more desperation than she expected.

“Kitty, don’t. Please—”

Adrien crushed her lips with his. The kiss was salty with her own tears, and bitter with regret. It hurt her heart more than it hurt her lips. She finally broke free with a sob.

Crack!

Her palm stung from the force of her slap, and guilt warred with anger and sorrow at the redness that bloomed on Adrien’s face.

Sobs punctuated her voice, “Why… How could you? I never thought you would take my choice from me. I never thought you would force your will on someone…I didn’t think you could be so much like your father.” Adrien didn’t move. His eyes were wide with shock, his hands still holding the empty air where she’d been.

“Goodbye, Adrien.” Marinette turned on her heel, desperate for the safety of Luka and the lounge, but paused when she heard his voice break behind her.

“Mari—I—I’m sorry. I just wanted to be free. With you.”

She turned and faced him with a grim expression, “I know... But I need you to go now.”

Marinette stood in the alley behind the lounge trying to compose herself as she watched Adrien slink away. The ‘sting’ operation had been a farce—practically a double cross—and she couldn’t blame him for being hurt.  But he had taken it too far. The way things had ended was awful, but this investigation had changed her life. She took a deep bracing breath. Luka and the Liberty were waiting. 

“Miss Dupain.” She whirled to find Gabriel Agreste standing between her and the Liberty. “You sabotaged the investigation.”

“Hardly. There isn’t nearly enough going on at the Liberty to warrant the level of scrutiny you asked of us,” she insisted.

“I hired you to do a job! You were supposed to take down the lounge.” 

“You hired a PI! I found the truth, Gabriel.”

“You don’t know anything. That family messes with the lives of anyone they please and destroys families!”

“That isn’t true! They help people…” Like a bolt, the truth struck her and the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. The Couffaines helped people. They helped poor families in need. They helped orphans. And they helped abused women trapped in terrible marriages. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” Gabriel’s face was stony, his voice low and menacing.

“Adrien’s mother. She wanted to leave. That’s why you hate the Couffaines. It was never about the casino or the socialites. It was because they help people!”

He sneered at her. “That madwoman, Anarka, tried to destroy my family! I would have lost everything !” 

“You found out. You stopped her.” Marinette stepped backward, her heart pounding in her chest.

“She wouldn’t listen to me! It was an accident.” The venom in his voice chilled her blood, his words only made it worse. An accident? Understanding made her feel sick. 

“Oh, God. You killed her. She tried to leave and you killed her.”

Gabriel reached for her, shaking his head. “No. NO! I didn’t mean… I wanted to talk. She… fell. She tried to take my son!”

Marinette shook with the onslaught of adrenaline in her veins. “You covered it up. Manslaughter. Your actions got her killed and you covered it up. That’s why you never let Adrien see her while she was sick .” Marinette tried to keep back from Gabriel, but she didn’t want too much distance between her and the Liberty. The Liberty was safe. Luka was there. Gabriel had killed someone he loved, and he already despised her. There was nothing to stop him from hurting her.

His next words were unexpected, and they rang hollow. “Please. Don't tell Adrien. He’ll hate me.”

“You have done everything you could to ensure that already.” She had to keep him talking.

“Let him have one parent, Miss Dupain.”

She couldn’t believe his audacity. “Adrien hasn't had a parent since you killed his mother!”

The commissioner stepped closer, his pleading tone didn’t match the anger in his eyes. “Let me turn myself in. I don't want him to know what happened to his mother. Let me keep it between myself and the police. You care about my son. Please.” Her mind whirled. She did care about Adrien, she didn’t want to see him hurt, No matter how things had ended between them. But she didn’t trust that Gabriel cared about Adrien as much he cared about his reputation. 

A flash of silver at Gabriel’s side made Marinette twitch back, but a shot rang out before she could react to the butterfly knife. She watched in horror as Gabriel's chest bloomed red and his face went slack in shock. She stumbled backward when the knife fell from his fingers, nearly tripping on the hem of her gown. She gasped but was caught by strong arms. 

“It's going to be alright, Songbird.”

She turned to Luka and buried her face in his chest, putting the sight of a dying Gabriel behind her. Even through her panic, she relished the feel of his arms around her. She knew she was safe. But was he?

“Luka! You shot the commissioner! How can that be alright?”

“You’d be right if he had shot him. But I did.” A new voice spoke into the dark night, and the strong hands that were rubbing her back soothingly released her so she could look at the newcomer. 

A man stepped out of the shadows and tipped his hat. “Sheriff Coltrane, ma’am. The younger Agreste asked me here to look into some gambling charges. When the two of you stepped out and didn’t come back, I decided to investigate. Mister Couffaine here showed me the back door. I heard the commissioner’s confession and saw the knife. I believe he would have killed you to protect his secret, to protect himself. I did what I was sworn to do and protected the innocent.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Luka pulled her closer, and she heard him whisper into her hair. “I am so glad he didn’t get the chance to hurt you.” 

Sheriff Coltrane used Luka’s office phone to call the station and arranged to deal with Gabriel’s body appropriately. He took a quick statement from them and asked them both to come by the station the next day in case there were any more questions. 

“While I’m here, do either of you want to enlighten me about the younger Mister Agreste’s concerns about a hidden basement?”

Luka nodded easily. “We have a wine cellar downstairs. Sometimes I rent it out for private parties and the like. Most of which occur during our normal operating hours.”

Sheriff Coltrane turned to Marinette. “Have you witnessed any of these gatherings?”

She nodded. “Sometimes I sing downstairs.”

“What’s that like?”

She shrugged. “Quiet. It’s mostly business chatter, cigars, and a few drinks. Ms. Rolling has been here longer, she’s handled more of their entertainment than I have.” 

Luka hid a smirk at her careful redirection. Penny was well-versed in how to handle unwanted inquiries.

Sheriff Coltrane didn’t look like he was fooled, however. “Could you identify any of the most frequent visitors?” 

Marinette nodded again. “It’s usually Mister Haughton Jr., Mister Whitney, Mister Astor, and the like. They are here tonight if you want to speak to them.”

Sheriff Coltrane waved her off with a frown. “I get the picture.” He sighed. “I’ll get out of your hair. Thank you for your time—and don’t forget to come by tomorrow. Please ask Ms. Rolling to join you.” With a pointed look, he let himself out the back way and Marinette and Luka were left to themselves.

After the drama in the alley, it was odd to see that the inside of the club was exactly the same, and no one was aware of all that had gone down just outside. Luka and Marinette hovered in the doorway of the hall, able to see the bright colors and happy faces of the lounge’s guests without being a part of the gaiety. 

Marinette’s voice was a whisper, “I’m glad you didn’t shoot him.”

Luka hesitated briefly. “I would have if Coltrane had been slower. I wasn’t about to let him hurt you.” He drew her further back into the dark hall, where Rose’s crooning voice had a harder time reaching them. Did you mean it?”

Marinette blushed in the dark. “Mean what?”

Luka’s hand found her face in the dark and caressed her jaw, ever so gently. “When you sang tonight.”

She leaned into his palm with a sigh. “I did.”

“Sing it again?”

Marinette ran a hand down his lapel, but didn’t hesitate to tell him how she felt in no uncertain terms—even if her voice did come out in a breathy whisper, “I love you, Luka Couffaine.”

Luka’s kiss was welcome. A gentle, unselfish yielding of lips that made her feel cherished and loved. When she sighed in contentment, Luka’s grip on her tightened, his lips grew more eager and she wanted the moment to last forever. 

It wasn’t to be. A delighted squeal filled the hall and suddenly Rose’s arms were wrapped around both of them. 

“I can’t wait to tell Jules!” Rose disappeared as quickly as she’d come and Luka chuckled.

“How do you feel about becoming a Couffaine, Marinette?”

She smiled, and with a quick flick of her wrist pulled him down by his tie for another quick kiss. “I thought I already was.”

Luka couldn’t disagree, his mouth was too busy. And his arms were as full as his heart.

“Fin.”

It takes a minute to refocus on reality. Your notebook is much fuller than you anticipated. You want more, the couple sitting in front of you must have a lifetime of stories! Your voice comes out in a reverent breath. “Wow.”

“Yes, we had some crazy times back in the day.” Marinette’s eyes dance and you can almost imagine the stories she contains.

You stand when they do—you hate that it’s over, but you can read a room. It’s dark now, and your hosts look a little tired. “Thank you so much for your time. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed research for a class project this much.”

“You are very welcome. Thanks for listening to an old woman’s stories.” Luka rolls his eyes fondly.

“You aren’t old, Songbird. I don’t think you’ve aged a day since I met you.”

“You need to get your eyes checked, Love.”

Luka winks at you before turning his gaze back to his wife. “Love is blind. My eyesight is just fine—almost as fine as you.”

You blush at the same time as Marinette, they are such a cute couple, but you feel like you’re intruding on something private. 

“Goodnight, and thanks again.” You pause when the door closes behind you and take a deep breath. What a day! The notebook in your hand makes you smile. Now you just have to find a way to do their story sufficient justice in your jazz paper. Time to get writing.

Bonus Epilogue- Family (Sabine)

The kitchen and dining room above the little French bakery were overflowing. Sabine Cheng’s heart was full to bursting as she watched her recently expanded family passing dumplings and still-warm bread around the table. It’s an odd meal—a mix of heritages all on one table, but everyone is smiling as they eat. Pierre had chased her out of her kitchen once she had finished preparing the food, refusing to let her cook as well as do the serving. 

Sabine studied her guests, her family. Most of them were wearing something handcrafted by her daughter. Mister Mendel (with permission) had developed a habit of giving out her name at his fabric shop, and while her designs might never be featured in fashion magazines, she spent a good deal of time lovingly creating beautiful clothes for thankful clients—many of whom had become friends.

Her son-in-law, Luka, a unique blend of carefully crafted stoicism and oh-so-sweet musician, still had eyes only for Marinette. His hands kept reaching for his wife in quick little ‘we’re in company’ caresses. Mylène was hovering next to Ivan who held their tiny baby boy—wonder and joy still shining in both of their eyes. Rose was right next to both of them, softly petting the downy head as she gushed over the perfection of all his little fingers and toes. Juleka, much like herself, was watching everything with a gleam of pride and wonder in her eyes and the women exchanged soft smiles every time their eyes met across the room. Even Kagami—brought into the fold by some magic she didn’t fully understand—was smiling over her plate of food. Anarka and Tom were swapping stories and teasing the children by turn. Marinette flushed pink when the two of them made nudging little suggestions about little Martin Bruel needing a playmate. Sabine caught a look between her daughter and Luka that made her think that the babe wouldn't be the youngest for long, and her heart nearly took flight. 

Leaving France on the edge of war with their young daughter had been scary. It had seemed like the only way to keep her safe with the looming violence, and she had questioned that decision more than once when family was so far away and America was not always as welcoming as they had hoped. There had been a time when her family had felt small. Her world had shrunk to a pinpoint centered around her husband and daughter. But Marinette had her own gravity, and her family had grown exponentially when Marinette came into herself. 

Sabine slipped through the crowd that couldn’t all fit at the table and let Tom pull her to his side. The journey had not been easy, but this family had been worth every step.