Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deep within the Miracle Box, two kwamis sat in somber silence. Tikki, the kwami of creation, and Plagg, the kwami of destruction, were beings of cosmic purpose, bound by a singular mission: to keep the world in balance. But balance, they both knew, always came at a cost.

This time, the cost had been their holders.

Adrien Agreste, the noble son of the man who became Hawk Moth, was chosen as the wielder of the Cat Miraculous. He carried the burden of destruction with unmatched grace, always believing in light even as his father drowned in shadows. But in the end, father and son had fallen—two sides of the same tragedy, victims of a battle waged for balance.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the daughter of bakers, had been chosen to bear the weight of creation. She carried it well, leading with compassion and strength, but even she was not immune to the cost. When Adrien—her partner, her other half—died in that final battle, the girl who had once been Ladybug could no longer bear the weight of the mask.

She had fled, far from Paris, from Tikki, from herself.

Plagg's eyes glowed faintly in the dark as he observed Marinette's distant life through the threads of their bond. She's not a hero anymore, he mused. "She doesn't want us," he said aloud, his voice a low, mournful growl.

"She wants peace," Tikki whispered, though her tone held no reproach. Only sadness. "But there is no peace in running from grief. Not for someone like her."

Plagg sighed, his tail flicking in frustration. "She could've stayed in Paris. At least we could've protected her."

Tikki didn't respond. Instead, she focused on the flickering images of Marinette's life, shimmering like fireflies before them.

Marinette laughing, her hands tangled with Jason Todd-Wayne's as they strolled through the Wayne gardens.

Marinette leaning against Jason, her cheeks flushed as they shared a kiss.

Marinette stitching a tear in one of Jason's leather jackets, scolding him for being reckless while he smirked at her.

"She's happy," Tikki murmured, though her voice wavered.

"She was happy," Plagg corrected grimly, his gaze darkening as the images shifted.

Marinette standing alone in the rain, her fingers trembling as they touched the polished gravestone bearing Jason's name.

Marinette's scream shattering the silence of the Wayne crypt as she collapsed to her knees.

Marinette clutching an old photo of Jason, her lips trembling with unsaid words.

"She'll blame herself," Tikki said softly.

"She'll always blame herself," Plagg agreed. "Whether she fights or not, Marinette will never escape that part of her. Creation and destruction don't work without sacrifice. She knows that better than anyone."

Tikki's voice was barely a whisper. "But why does the sacrifice have to be him?"

The images slowed, fading back into the stillness of the Miracle Box. Plagg curled into himself, his glowing green eyes dim. "Because," he said bitterly, "that's how it's written."

For all their power, they couldn't change what was etched into time. Marinette's choice to live as a civilian or return to heroism wouldn't matter. Jason Todd-Wayne's fate was already sealed.

In this story, he was destined to die.

And Marinette would carry the weight of his loss for the rest of her life.

For kwamis of balance, the world had always been a series of chapters—endless, winding tales of heroes, villains, victories, and tragedies. But as Tikki and Plagg stared into the threads of Marinette's life, one thing was certain.

This was their final chapter.

Chapter Text

Marinette had expected chaos to define her life.

From the moment she clasped the earrings in her hands, hearing the gentle yet insistent voice of Tikki for the first time, she knew peace would always be a distant dream. Becoming Ladybug meant accepting responsibility, danger, and a level of uncertainty that most teenagers could never fathom. She thought she understood the weight of it.

Every akuma she purified, every battle she waged alongside Chat Noir, every moment she wore that mask—she believed she grasped the stakes. After all, she was protecting her city, her friends, and her family from Hawk Moth's relentless darkness. She thought she had learned to live with the cost.

But nothing had prepared her for the night she defeated Hawk Moth. Nothing could have prepared her for losing Adrien Agreste—her partner, her best friend, her Chat Noir.

Marinette often thought back to that night, replaying it in her mind until the memories felt like broken glass beneath her feet. The details never faded. The scent of rain-soaked pavement, the cold weight of her yo-yo in her hands, the eerie stillness that hung in the air just before everything fell apart.

It had been raining. It often was in stories like this.

She remembered the thunder rumbling in the distance as she and Chat Noir confronted Hawk Moth in his lair. Adrien had been there beside her, his determination a steady force that kept her own fears at bay. They had fought side by side countless times, but this battle felt different—more final, more desperate. The stakes were higher than ever, and she had been so focused on defeating Hawk Moth that she hadn't realized what it might cost her.

The battle was fierce, the kind that left scars on the soul more than the body. Hawk Moth's desperation to see his wife again had driven him to reckless cruelty, and Marinette had felt the weight of her duty like never before. She knew they had to stop him, not just for Paris but for Adrien—for both of them.

And they did. Marinette remembered the moment the akuma was purified, the light breaking through the storm clouds above. She remembered the look of defeat on Hawk Moth's face as his Miraculous were stripped from him, revealing Gabriel Agreste beneath. She remembered the shock in Adrien's eyes, the raw betrayal as he stared at his father.

But what came after—that was what haunted her.

Hawk Moth's final act of desperation had been unexpected and devastating. Marinette couldn't save Adrien from the collapse of the lair. She had screamed his name, her voice breaking as she reached for him, but the rubble fell faster than her outstretched hand. When the dust settled, all that remained was silence.

Adrien was gone.

That was the night Marinette's black-and-white world faded entirely to black.

In the aftermath, Marinette stood in the rain, clutching Adrien's ring—the only thing she had left of him. She felt the weight of Paris's freedom, but it felt hollow, like ashes in her mouth. She had won, but at what cost?

The grief was unbearable, and the burden of being Ladybug became too much to carry. Marinette said goodbye to Tikki and put her earrings in the box of miraculous, quietly stepping away from the life of a hero. For the first time since becoming Ladybug, she let herself be just Marinette Dupain-Cheng, though she wasn't even sure who that was anymore.

Months passed, but the pain didn't fade. She found herself trapped in the memories of what could have been, struggling to piece herself back together. That was when Bruce Wayne reached out.

The news of Hawkmoth's defeat and the tragedy surrounding Adrien Agreste had reached Gotham, and Bruce, ever the vigilant observer, had seen something in Marinette's story that resonated with him. He knew loss. He knew the cost of heroism. And he knew that if Marinette stayed in Paris, surrounded by the memories of what she had lost, she might never heal.

The invitation came unexpectedly: an exchange program in Gotham, with Bruce offering to act as her guardian while she stayed. Marinette hesitated at first, unsure if she could leave Paris or if she even deserved a fresh start. But something about Bruce's offer felt genuine, like he understood her pain in a way no one else could.

Eventually, she agreed. She packed what little she could carry, leaving behind the bakery, her friends, and the city she had fought so hard to protect. The taxi ride to the airport was heavy with silence, and the weight of what she was leaving behind clung to her like a second skin.

Now, she stood on the driveway of Wayne Manor, her gaze drifting up to the imposing structure before her. It loomed against the gray Gotham sky, a sprawling testament to wealth and secrets.

The car door clicked shut behind her as Alfred Pennyworth, a kindly older gentleman with a warm smile and sharp eyes, extended a hand to her. He had greeted her at the airport with an air of polite professionalism, but there was something about him—an understated kindness—that made her feel like she wasn't entirely alone.

"This way, Miss Dupain-Cheng," Alfred said, his voice smooth and steady, as if he could sense her trepidation.

She followed him up the stone steps, her suitcase trailing behind her. The sound of her footsteps echoed louder than she expected, each step a reminder that she would be here for the next two years, finishing her junior and senior years of high school in Gotham. The thought was as refreshing as it was bitter.

Marinette wanted a fresh start. She needed one.

Paris had become suffocating, each familiar street and café a reminder of what she had lost. The bakery she once found so comforting now felt hollow. She couldn't walk past the Eiffel Tower without seeing phantom memories of a grinning blond boy balancing precariously on the edge, teasing her in that familiar, playful voice. Adrien was everywhere in Paris. And she couldn't stay.

No one in Paris knew what she carried. No one knew that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, clumsy and sweet, was also Ladybug—the hero who bore the weight of saving the city, the grief of losing her partner, and the guilt of moving on. Her parents didn't know. Her friends didn't know. And they couldn't. Being a hero didn't just stop when the mask came off. Once a hero, always a hero, even when you walked away from the fight.

But somehow, Bruce Wayne knew.

She still couldn't fathom it. How a man an ocean away had uncovered her secret, a truth she had hidden so carefully that even Tikki had marveled at her ability to keep it. Yet, he had reached out to her with an offer—a fresh start, a chance to leave behind the city that suffocated her, and the weight of being Ladybug.

Marinette had almost refused. The idea of trusting anyone with her truth felt impossible. But something in Bruce's words had stayed with her. He hadn't pressured her, hadn't demanded answers. He had simply offered a sanctuary, a place to heal.

Now, as Alfred pushed open the grand doors of Wayne Manor, Marinette took a deep breath, steeling herself.

The foyer was expansive and elegant, but it didn't feel cold. It was lived in, though the air carried an unspoken weight, much like its owner. She could feel the eyes of the house on her, as though it was sizing her up.

Bruce Wayne, of all people, knew she was Ladybug. He had unearthed a secret that even her parents were oblivious to. Yet here she was, walking into his home, trusting him and his word. For better or worse, this was her fresh start.

And maybe—just maybe—this was exactly where she needed to be.

Alfred led her deeper into the manor, the soft click of her shoes on the polished floors echoing faintly in the expansive halls. Marinette couldn't help but admire the home's quiet grandeur. The walls were lined with art—portraits and landscapes, some old enough to belong in a museum. Everything about the place spoke of history and importance, yet it didn't feel sterile or unwelcoming. It felt lived in.

She let her fingers trail lightly along the edge of the bannister as they climbed a short flight of stairs. The air was cooler here, the scent of aged wood and faint cologne lingering. Alfred stopped outside a set of heavy oak doors, pausing just long enough for Marinette to catch the sound of voices beyond.

"...be nice, Jay. And don't roll your eyes at me." The older voice carried a subtle authority, though it wasn't harsh.

"Oh, come on, old man..." a younger voice replied, rough and tinged with mischief.

Alfred raised a brow but said nothing as he opened the door, revealing a grand sitting room with high ceilings and tall windows letting in the soft gray light of the Gotham afternoon.

The source of the voices became apparent immediately. A man sat in one of the armchairs, broad-shouldered and imposing, though his demeanor was calm. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his piercing blue eyes flicked to Marinette the moment she stepped into view. Beside him stood a teenager, leaning casually on the back of his chair. The boy had the same dark hair, though it was messier, and the same startlingly blue eyes. He had an air of defiance about him, but it was softened by a smirk that hinted at something playful beneath the bravado.

Marinette hesitated for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place she felt. But then she straightened her spine, offering a small smile. "Bonjour, Messieurs," she greeted, her voice soft but steady.

The man in the chair, who could only be Bruce Wayne, nodded in acknowledgment. "Marinette," he said, his voice low and calm. "Welcome to Gotham. I'm glad you made it here safely."

Before she could respond, the teenager leaned forward slightly, his smirk widening as he glanced at Bruce. "You didn't tell me she was pretty," he muttered, not bothering to lower his voice.

Alfred, who had been standing just behind Marinette, cleared his throat pointedly. "Master Jason, if you're going to offer a compliment, I suggest you do so properly and for all to hear."

The boy—Jason, apparently—turned bright red at Alfred's words, but his embarrassment didn't stop him from grinning. He straightened up, crossing his arms as if to cover his nerves. "Hey, Ms. Marinette," he said, his voice a bit louder now. "You look... lovely."

Marinette blinked in surprise before a soft laugh escaped her lips. "Merci, Jason," she said warmly, her tension easing just a little.

Jason seemed pleased with himself, his smirk returning. "See? I've got manners," he said, glancing at Bruce as if to prove a point.

Bruce gave him a look—stern but not unkind. "We're working on it," he replied dryly.

Marinette couldn't help but smile at their dynamic. There was something oddly endearing about the way they interacted. Jason's youthful cockiness reminded her of someone, though she quickly pushed the thought aside.

"Please, have a seat," Bruce said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

As Marinette settled into the chair, she felt Jason watching her, his curiosity apparent. Alfred moved to stand by the door, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. The room was quiet for a moment, the weight of introductions settling in.

"You'll be staying here for the next two years," Bruce began, his tone straightforward but not unkind. "This is your home now. If there's anything you need, Alfred will make sure you have it."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," Marinette said politely, though the formality felt strange.

"Bruce," he corrected. "You'll find we're not particularly formal here."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, unless Alfred's in the room. Then it's all 'Master Jason, mind your manners.'"

Alfred shot him a pointed look. "A lesson you're still struggling to learn, I see."

Marinette laughed again, the sound light and genuine. It surprised even her how quickly she felt at ease here. Maybe it was the warmth in Alfred's eyes, the humor in Jason's smirk, or the steady calm of Bruce's presence. Whatever it was, it felt... safe.

And for the first time in a long time, Marinette thought that maybe she could find a way to start over here.

___

Marinette still found it odd to wake without the constant presence of Tikki. For two years, the tiny kwami had been her closest companion, the voice in her ear that guided her through impossible situations. From the moment she was chosen at fourteen, Tikki had been her tether to a world of magic, responsibility, and sacrifice.

Now, at sixteen, the absence was both jarring and liberating.

The endless responsibility of being Ladybug was gone. No akumas, no miraculous cures, no villain plots to untangle. Her earrings were safely hidden in the depths of her suitcase, and for the first time in years, Marinette felt the faintest whisper of what it meant to be... normal.

Her first week in Wayne Manor was anything but.

The manor was massive, far bigger than anything she'd ever experienced. It loomed like a Gothic fairytale, all towering spires and shadowed corners, with an air of mystery that both intrigued and intimidated her. She spent the first few days wandering its endless halls, trying to familiarize herself with her new home while fighting the persistent urge to get hopelessly lost.

Alfred had been her saving grace. The kindly butler always seemed to appear when she needed him most, offering a warm cup of tea, a plate of snacks, or a few calming words when the grandeur of it all became too much.

Jason, on the other hand, was a different kind of guide.

He'd taken one look at her on her first day—standing nervously by the grand staircase—and decided she needed to see the "real" Wayne Manor. He showed her where to find the hidden passageways, the shortcuts to the kitchen, and the best spots to sit and watch the sunset. He even introduced her to the sprawling gardens, which she quickly realized were one of the few places in the manor where she felt truly at ease.

"Stick with me, Paris," he said with a grin one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe of her room as she unpacked her suitcase. "I'll make sure you survive this place."

Marinette had laughed, though she wasn't sure if he was entirely joking.

Bruce, meanwhile, was harder to figure out. He was polite, almost distant, in a way that made her feel as though he was constantly analyzing her. He checked in with her occasionally, asking if she needed anything or if she was settling in, but for the most part, he left her alone.

It wasn't unkind. If anything, Marinette got the impression that he was trying to give her space, though she couldn't help but wonder what he was really thinking.

On the seventh morning, she found herself sitting alone at the long dining table, staring out at the gray Gotham skyline through the massive windows. Rain pattered softly against the glass, a steady rhythm that filled the silence.

Alfred set a plate of waffles in front of her, along with a small bowl of fruit. "Is everything to your liking, Miss Marinette?"

She smiled up at him. "It's perfect, thank you."

"Excellent," he replied, inclining his head. "If there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate to ask."

Marinette nodded, but before she could respond, Jason appeared in the doorway, yawning loudly and ruffling his already-messy hair.

"Morning," he mumbled, plopping down into the seat across from her.

"Good morning," Marinette replied, watching as he reached for the syrup with one hand while rubbing his eyes with the other.

"You're up early," he remarked, glancing at her plate. "Figured you'd still be passed out. This place takes it out of you, huh?"

"It's... a lot," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "But I like it. It's quieter than Paris, in a way."

Jason raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "Quieter? In Gotham? You've gotta be kidding me."

Marinette laughed softly, shaking her head. "It's hard to explain. Paris always felt like it was watching me. Like I couldn't escape it, no matter where I went. Here, it's different. The city doesn't know me. It's... freeing."

Jason tilted his head, studying her for a moment before nodding. "I get that," he said, his tone more serious than usual. "Sometimes it's nice to just blend in, y'know?"

Marinette smiled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Yeah. Exactly."

"Anyway," Jason said, his grin returning as he speared a piece of waffle with his fork, "if you're gonna survive Gotham, you'll need more than waffles. I'll show you around later. You haven't really seen the city until you've had the food from the carts downtown."

"Is that a promise?"

"Only if you're brave enough," Jason teased.

For the first time since she arrived, Marinette felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this place could become a home.

Chapter Text

A groan of frustration escaped Marinette's lips, muffled slightly as she tugged the stiff collar of her new school uniform into place.

Today marked her first day at Gotham Academy, an elite institution reserved for the city's wealthiest families and the most brilliant minds lucky enough to secure a scholarship. Marinette didn't quite feel like she belonged in either category. Sure, she'd done well in her studies back in Paris, but her acceptance here felt less about merit and more about Bruce Wayne pulling strings.

With her agreement to come to Gotham came the unspoken expectation that she'd attend the Academy, and while Marinette was grateful for the opportunity, she couldn't shake the nerves twisting her stomach.

The uniform certainly didn't help.

She adjusted the plaid blue skirt, smoothing out the fabric with a huff. The dark, structured ensemble felt utterly suffocating, a stark contrast to the colorful, playful outfits she loved designing and wearing back home. Fashion was her passion, her way of expressing herself—and now, thanks to the Academy's strict dress code, she felt like a blank canvas painted in drab grays and blues.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Marinette frowned at her reflection. It wasn't just the uniform that bothered her. It was everything. The way the dark, dreary outfit mirrored the storm of emotions she'd been carrying since her arrival. She felt like she was playing a part in someone else's story—a character she didn't quite recognize yet.

With a sigh, she tied her hair into her signature twin ponytails, a small attempt to reclaim a bit of herself. Her gaze drifted to the jewelry on her vanity, the pieces that had become a part of her daily routine since arriving in Gotham.

First, she reached for her replacement earrings. Instead of the familiar black and red ladybug studs that had symbolized her old life, these were delicate bat-shaped earrings, polished and subtle. They had been a gift from Bruce, a quiet acknowledgment of her past and her fresh start.

Next, her fingers brushed against the braided black-and-red string bracelet Jason had given her. A small ruby robin pendant hung at its center, catching the light as she slid it onto her wrist. It was far more expensive than anything she'd ever owned, but she wore it anyway, a silent reminder of Jason's warmth and kindness.

Standing back, she studied herself one last time.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn't Ladybug anymore. She wasn't Paris's hero or the baker's cheerful daughter. Now, she was just a foreign exchange student living in Gotham.

All she had to do was keep her head down, get good grades, and stay out of trouble.

She could totally do that... right?

"Marinette, we gotta go, sugar!" Jason's voice echoed up the grand staircase, snapping her from her thoughts.

Grabbing her pink backpack, Marinette made her way downstairs. The small purse she used to carry Tikki was still slung across her chest—a habit she hadn't quite broken yet. As she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Jason leaning casually against the wall, tossing his car keys in the air.

Before she could respond, Alfred appeared beside him, smacking the back of Jason's head with his usual impeccable precision.

"Master Jason, mind your manners," Alfred scolded with a stern yet fond expression. "There is no need to shout at the young lady."

Jason rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Ow. Okay, okay."

Marinette giggled at their interaction, the nervous knot in her stomach loosening slightly.

Stepping forward, Jason grabbed her backpack along with his own and slung them both over his shoulder. "C'mon, let's get this over with." He tossed his car keys into the air again, catching them with a wink as he waved goodbye to Alfred.

"Bye, Alfie!"

"Goodbye, young masters," Alfred replied, watching them with a knowing look. "Do try to stay out of trouble, Master Jason."

Jason smirked, opening the car door for Marinette with a dramatic flourish. "Me? Trouble? Never. I'm an angel, Alfie. Always on my best behavior."

Marinette raised an eyebrow, climbing into the sleek black sports car—a car no sixteen-year-old should reasonably have access to. "You're definitely going to get us into trouble."

Jason grinned as he started the engine, the car roaring to life. "Not us, Paris. Just me. You? You're untouchable."

As they sped down the long, winding driveway of Wayne Manor, Marinette couldn't help but laugh. Here's an expanded and enhanced version:

Despite the nerves, despite the uniform, despite everything—maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

At least, that's what Marinette told herself as Jason's sleek black car pulled into the circular driveway of Gotham Academy.

The moment she stepped out of the passenger seat, however, the weight of a hundred eyes fell on her at once. Marinette tried not to notice, tried to keep her head high as she adjusted the strap of her pink backpack, but the whispers started almost immediately.

Jason didn't seem to care. He leaned casually against the car, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes as if he were completely unaware of the attention they were drawing. But Marinette knew better. Jason was a Wayne—he was used to this. Famous by association, just as Adrien had been back in Paris.

But unlike Adrien, Jason wore his fame with a rebellious edge, practically daring anyone to say something to him. Marinette could only wish she had half his confidence as she followed him toward the entrance of the school.

She didn't understand why they were staring at her too. She was nobody—or at least, she was supposed to be.

"Schedules are over there," Jason said, jerking his chin toward the front office. "They're splitting us up by last name, though, so... good luck." He smirked, handing her her bag. "Don't get lost."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Marinette muttered, rolling her eyes, though she couldn't stop a small smile from tugging at her lips.

Jason winked and walked toward the far end of the line for students with last names starting with "W." Marinette, meanwhile, moved to the line for "D."

She tried to keep her head down as she waited, but the stares continued. Eyes met hers, only to dart away as whispers followed. Marinette's cheeks burned, and she focused on the ground, wishing she could shrink into the polished tile floor.

That's when she heard the voices behind her.

"What's she doing with Wayne?" a girl hissed, just loud enough for Marinette to hear.

"I saw her get out of his car this morning," a boy replied, his tone dripping with curiosity.

The girl snickered. "So, what? Early morning hookup?"

"You think Mr. Wayne would let him bring his tramp to school?" the boy scoffed.

The girl giggled again, leaning closer. "I'm sure Brucie gave her a scholarship. Jason's just taking after his father, after all. Bruce is a playboy, so of course his little street-rat son would be too."

Marinette's throat tightened, her hands clutching the straps of her bag. She fought the urge to turn around and say something—anything—but the words caught in her throat like thorns.

"Next," a staff member called from the front of the line, pulling Marinette's attention.

Forcing a shaky breath, she stepped forward, her cheeks flushed and her heart racing.

"Are you alright, dear?" the woman asked, her tone kind but concerned as she noticed Marinette's expression.

Marinette forced a tight smile. "Just wonderful," she managed to say, though her voice sounded brittle to her own ears. "It's Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

The woman nodded, rifling through the stack of schedules. Marinette glanced over her shoulder once, catching a glimpse of the girl and boy still whispering, their sneers barely hidden.

Her stomach churned. She didn't want to start her first day like this.

But as she turned back, schedule now in hand, she caught sight of Jason standing across the room. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on her, he gave a lazy wave and a grin.

Something about his casual confidence steadied her, even if just a little.

She took another deep breath, clutching her schedule tightly. It didn't matter what they whispered. She wasn't here for them.

Marinette squared her shoulders and started toward Jason. Here's an improved and expanded version of your scene:

This was just the first day. She'd get through it—one way or another.

Jason stood leaned against a row of unused lockers, scrolling lazily through his phone. His posture was casual, but Marinette could tell he'd been keeping an eye out for her. The moment she approached, he pushed off the lockers and tucked his phone into his pocket, offering her a lopsided grin.

"Hand it over," Jason said, holding out his hand.

"Hand what over?" Marinette blinked at him.

"Your schedule, duh." He wiggled his fingers impatiently, smirking when she rolled her eyes but handed it over nonetheless.

"Let's see what we've got here." Jason hummed thoughtfully as his blue eyes scanned the paper, his head tilting slightly as he took in every class and teacher listed. "Alright, looks like we've got five classes together—one of them being study hall, which is practically a free period."

"Nine classes in one day?" Marinette frowned, shifting her weight. "That's... excessive."

Jason shrugged, handing the paper back to her. "They're only forty-five minutes long, so it's not too bad. Plus, study hall is a breeze."

"Well, that's a relief." She tucked the schedule into her bag. "So, which classes are we stuck together in?"

He grinned and leaned toward her, brushing against her side as he peered over her shoulder to point at the schedule again. With her petite height of 4'11", Marinette barely came up to his chest, and Jason—standing at a still-growing 5'10"—took full advantage. He casually rested his elbow on her shoulder, his grin widening as she shot him a look.

"Alright, listen up, short stuff," Jason teased. "First, we've got English together. Honestly? It's my favorite class."

Marinette raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. "That's not sarcasm?"

"Not this time," Jason said with mock seriousness. "English is actually decent. Athletics comes in second, though."

"Now that makes more sense."

Jason chuckled and continued. "After English, we've got Algebra II with Mrs. Hiller. She's kinda cold—classic math teacher vibes—but if you ask nicely, she might share her snacks. Just don't push your luck."

Marinette nodded, filing away the information. Jason went on to list the next couple of classes, pointing them out on the schedule.

"Then you've got physics while I'm stuck in chemistry, followed by U.S. History. After that, we split for athletics."

"So," Marinette said, tapping her chin as she processed. "We've got English, Algebra II, U.S. History, study hall, and... what's the fifth?"

Jason grinned, pointing to the bottom of the schedule. "Art III. Last class of the day."

Her eyes lit up slightly. "Oh, I like art. That's a nice way to end the day."

"Besides that," Jason added, "you've got two electives—Home Economics and Photography. Both sound pretty chill."

Marinette nodded as the shrill sound of the bell cut through the hallway. Students started scattering in different directions, and Marinette instinctively stepped closer to Jason, not wanting to get lost in the shuffle.

"Alright, show me the way, yeah?" she asked with a small, tentative smile.

Jason gave her a mock bow. "As you wish, m'lady. Our first class is upstairs. Most of the core classes are in the same wing, so I'll walk you to each one."

"You know you don't have to do that, right?" Marinette asked, her voice quiet but earnest.

Jason paused mid-step and glanced at her. Then, with a mischievous grin, he slung an arm around her shoulders. "I know, sugar. But I want to."

Marinette blinked up at him, cheeks flushing slightly, but before she could reply, Jason tugged her along.

"C'mon, let's get this over with. First day, best behavior," Jason said with a wink, leading her toward the stairwell.

Marinette let herself be pulled along, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

For the first time that morning, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn't so alone after all.

The rest of the day moved in an easy rhythm. Most of Marinette's classes went over the syllabus, a tedious but mercifully low-stress task. Jason had been right when he said the first week was light. Teachers didn't dive into heavy coursework yet, and Marinette found herself grateful for the chance to adjust.

One thing she immediately appreciated about Gotham Academy was its four-day school week. Jason had explained that it was a recent change, and Friday was now part of the weekend. Four days of classes felt like a manageable hurdle, and Marinette couldn't help but feel a little relieved to be starting fresh under these circumstances.

By the time athletics rolled around, Marinette and Jason had to part ways. While he headed off to advanced training for football, Marinette headed to girls athletics. Unlike Paris, where physical education was just another class, Gotham Academy's system gave students flexibility. You only needed one gym credit, but choosing athletics came with the requirement to try out for at least two sports.

Marinette wasn't entirely sure about which sports she'd pursue. Soccer seemed like an obvious choice—she had played as a kid—but the idea of cheerleading tugged at her, too. Childhood memories of watching cheer routines on TV danced in her mind, but American movies often portrayed cheerleaders as... less than kind. She shivered at the thought of Lila or Chloe in pom-poms.

When athletics ended, Marinette found Jason waiting for her outside the athletics building. His damp hair matched hers after their two-mile run in Gotham's thick, humid air. She jogged to catch up, her pink gym bag bouncing against her shoulder.

"You ready?" he asked, adjusting his bag as he grinned down at her.

"Yeah." Marinette nodded, falling into step beside him.

Jason's strides were long, and it didn't take long for her to realize she had to jog just to keep up. "Man, you walk slow," he teased, smirking.

"No! You just have ridiculously long legs," she shot back, huffing as she tried to match his pace.

Jason let out a laugh, the sound warm and unguarded. "Sure, sugar, whatever you say."

They made their way to the cafeteria and found a spot at a round table on the raised platform. Marinette noted how the tables seemed to reflect the school's social hierarchy. The round ones were fewer in number and sparsely occupied, likely reserved for the wealthiest or most popular students. Jason clearly didn't mind the arrangement, but Marinette couldn't help feeling a little self-conscious.

"Does anyone usually sit with you?" Marinette asked, pulling out the lunch Alfred had prepared for her.

Jason shrugged. "Not really. Austin and Devin usually join me, though. They'll be here soon." He gestured to the table behind them. "If you want, you can sit with the girls there. They're cool. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

Marinette hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at the group of girls chatting and laughing together. "Umm... maybe I'll see if there's room once they're all seated," she mumbled, fiddling with the edge of her sandwich wrapper.

Jason caught the uncertainty in her expression and nudged her gently. "You don't have to, Mari. It's only if you want to."

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Jason."

Before she could say more, Jason leaned back in his chair. "So, what's the verdict on the whole sports thing? Thinking about soccer and cheer, or are you still undecided?"

"I think I'll try out for both," Marinette said, a little shyly. "I played soccer in France when I was younger, and I'm a decent tumbler."

"Decent, huh? You'll crush it," Jason said confidently. "But if you're gonna go for cheer, just be ready for the team dynamic. It's not always like the movies, but some girls can be..."

Marinette tilted her head, curious, but Jason's sentence trailed off as a light tap on her shoulder drew her attention.

"Sorry to interrupt," said a cheerful voice. Marinette turned to see a beautiful brunette with rose-colored glasses smiling warmly at her. "I couldn't help overhearing. You're the new foreign exchange student, right?"

"Yeah," Marinette said, blinking in surprise. "I'm Marinette."

"Nice to meet you! I'm April." The girl offered her hand, and Marinette shook it. "I'm on both the soccer and cheer teams—been doing both for three years now. If you can tumble like you say, we'd love to have you on the cheer squad. Tryouts are next Friday."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Next Friday? That's... soon."

April laughed, rummaging through her bag. "It's not too late to learn the routine. Most of us have been practicing for two weeks, but I can help you catch up if you're interested." She pulled out a flyer and handed it to Marinette. "Here. All the details are on this."

Marinette scanned the paper, her heart racing slightly. "You'd really help me?"

"Of course! Practice makes perfect, right?" April grinned, then gestured to the girls at the other table. "You're welcome to sit with us if you want. Right, Dolly, River, and Paisley?"

The other girls nodded warmly. Dolly, a brunette with striking green eyes, gave a bright smile. River, with her rich dark skin and hair similar to Marinette's, waved. Paisley, a platinum blonde who looked like a Disney princess, offered an encouraging nod.

Marinette glanced at Jason, who gave her a small nudge. "Go for it, sugar. I'll be fine. Besides, here comes the guys."

Sure enough, two boys—Austin and Devin—dropped their bags on the table and greeted Jason.

With a bright smile, Marinette gathered her things and moved to sit with the girls. April slid over to make space for her, and the others quickly welcomed her into their conversation.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Marinette felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe Gotham really was a fresh start. Maybe these girls would become friends. Maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something good.

Chapter Text

Marinette beamed as she stepped into Wayne Manor, her shoes clicking lightly against the polished marble floors. Jason trailed casually behind her, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his posture relaxed. The vast space echoed their presence, but there was no welcoming figure in sight—Alfred was likely busy elsewhere, and Bruce was still holed up in his office, probably reviewing Gotham's latest crime reports.

The two ascended the grand staircase, their backpacks swinging as they headed toward their rooms to drop off their school things. Marinette couldn't help but hum the melody of the Jagged Stone song her cheer routine was set to, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the tune's delicate yet powerful instrumentals.

Jason groaned audibly as he followed her. "Marinette," he drawled, "I swear, if I have to hear that song one more time..."

She whipped her head around, a mock pout on her lips. "What? It's a great song!"

"Maybe it was," Jason muttered, dramatically rolling his eyes, "but after hearing it six times on the drive home, I'm about ready to throw the aux cord out the window."

Marinette stifled a laugh, pushing open the door to her room. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the decor Alfred had helped her select was elegant yet comforting—a perfect blend of Gotham's formality and Marinette's Parisian charm. She set her bag on the neatly made bed and turned to face Jason, who had stopped in her doorway, leaning lazily against the frame.

"You're just mad because you don't appreciate good music," she teased, crossing her arms.

Jason snorted, stepping inside. "Excuse me, sugar, but I've got excellent taste in music. Just not when it's the same song on repeat for an hour."

Marinette grinned, stepping over to her desk where she had pinned up the cheer routine flyer April had given her. "Well, you're going to hear it a lot more," she said brightly, "because I need to practice. It's a big deal for me to even try out, and I don't want to mess it up."

Jason straightened slightly, his teasing expression softening into something more genuine. "Hey, you're gonna kill it," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "Are you thinking about asking April for help? I know she sent you the video, but it might be easier with someone walking you through it."

Marinette hesitated, her hands tightening around the straps of her bag. "I don't know... I mean, we just met today. What if she only gave me her number to be polite? What if she's just being nice, but she doesn't actually want me to reach out?"

Jason gave her a look—half amused, half exasperated—as he tossed his bag onto the nearby bench in the hallway. "Mari, trust me. If she didn't want to help, she wouldn't have gone out of her way to give you her number. People in Gotham don't waste their time like that. If she offered, she meant it."

Marinette fiddled with the hem of her sweater, still unsure. "But what if I'm bothering her? I don't want to seem pushy..."

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the wall. "Look, you're not gonna bother her. What's the worst that could happen? She says no? And if she says no, then fine. But at least you'll know. Just text her and see what she says."

Marinette chewed her lip, the weight of his logic settling over her. "Alright, alright. I'll text her." She pulled out her phone, her hands feeling a little shaky as she unlocked the screen.

Jason watched her with an amused smirk. "You're overthinking it," he said, crossing his arms. "Just say something simple. Like, 'Hey, it's Marinette! I wanted to know if you'd still be willing to help me with the cheer routine.' No need to write a novel."

Marinette let out a small laugh despite herself. "Fine, Mr. Expert Texter." She quickly typed out the message, hesitating for just a moment before hitting send. The bubble disappeared, and she let out a slow breath.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "See? Not so hard, right?"

Before Marinette could reply, her phone buzzed in her hand. Her eyes widened as she saw the typing bubble appear. "She's replying already," she said, her voice laced with surprise.

Jason grinned, leaning in slightly to peek at the screen. "Told you."

Marinette read April's reply, her face lighting up. "She said she's free now until dinner!"

Jason clapped her on the shoulder with a satisfied smile. "See? She's not just being nice; she's actually interested in helping you. Now, why don't we check with Dad? If he's cool with it, you can ask her to come over. She might even enjoy seeing the manor."

Marinette tilted her head, considering. "You really think so? I mean... it is kind of intimidating."

Jason shrugged, already leading the way toward Bruce's office. "Maybe, but April's on a Wayne Foundation scholarship, right? She's probably familiar with how things work. And if she's not, Alfred's cookies can charm anyone."

Marinette followed him, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The winding halls of the manor felt even larger than usual as they walked, sunlight streaming through the massive windows. "Do you think I should warn her? About, you know, how... big this place is?"

Jason chuckled. "You could mention it, sure. Just don't freak her out. Not everyone has to deal with the 'wow, billionaires live here' moment like you did."

Marinette elbowed him lightly. "I didn't freak out."

"You almost tripped over your own feet the first time Alfred opened the door," Jason teased, his grin widening.

She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. "Fine. Maybe a little."

When they reached Bruce's office, Jason knocked firmly on the heavy oak door, waiting for the muffled "Come in" before pushing it open.

Bruce looked up from his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. His reading glasses perched on his nose made him seem more approachable than usual. "What is it, Jason?"

Jason stepped inside, motioning for Marinette to follow. "Marinette wants to have a friend over to help her with something for cheer tryouts. Is that okay?"

Bruce's gaze shifted to Marinette, his expression softening. "Of course. Let Alfred know so he can prepare refreshments. Who is this friend?"

Marinette nodded quickly. "Her name's April. She offered to help me learn the routine, and she's free right now if that's alright. Jason says she's actually on a Wayne Scholarship." 

Bruce smiled faintly. "Let her know she's welcome."

"Thanks, Mr. Wayne!" Marinette said, her nerves easing as she followed Jason out of the office.

"See?" Jason said as they headed toward the kitchen. "Easy. Now text April back and give her the address. Let her know Alfred's cookies are worth the trip."

Marinette laughed, the tension in her chest finally loosening. Pulling out her phone again, she typed up a quick response, adding a note about the cookies as Jason had suggested. When April replied that she'd be there in twenty minutes, Marinette turned to Jason with a mix of excitement and nerves.

"She's coming," she said, her voice bubbling with both anticipation and disbelief.

Jason smirked. "Told you this would work out. Now let's grab some water before Alfred insists we drink tea with tiny sandwiches or something."

Marinette's laugh echoed down the hall as she and Jason walked toward the front of the manor.

A moment later, the doorbell rang. Marinette turned to Jason with a grin so wide it almost hurt. He shook his head, chuckling as he nudged her toward the door. "Don't pounce on her now. You don't want to scare the poor girl off."

Marinette rolled her eyes with a playful grumble. "I'm not going to scare her off. I'm just excited." She reached the front door, Jason trailing lazily behind her. As she opened it, she was greeted by April, who stood there in gym shorts and a tank top, a drawstring bag slung over her shoulder.

April's pink lips curled into an easy smile as she gave Marinette a quick once-over, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I hope you're not planning on cheering in pants," she teased with a light giggle.

Marinette glanced down at her lounge wear, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Right. Sorry, I wasn't thinking." She shot a sheepish glance at Jason before turning back to April. "Give me two seconds to change. Jason, can you keep April company?"

Jason smirked, giving Marinette a light shove toward the stairs. "Go, but make it quick. She didn't come all this way just to sit around waiting for you."

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him childishly before darting up the stairs. She barely made it halfway before Alfred's voice called from a distant hallway. "Miss Marinette, please refrain from running in the manor!"

Jason shook his head with a smirk and turned to April. "Come on, I'll show you where you two can practice."

He led her through the grand halls of the manor and out into the garden, where a large, open stretch of soft grass awaited them. The evening sunlight cast a warm glow over the neatly trimmed hedges and stone pathways, and the faint scent of flowers lingered in the air.

"I figure this spot works best," Jason said, motioning to the area. "Plenty of space, and when it gets dark, the lights around the garden will kick on. You won't even notice the time."

April nodded appreciatively, setting her bag down in the grass. She pulled out a small portable speaker and began stretching, her movements fluid and practiced. "This is perfect," she said, adjusting the music on her phone before setting it aside.

Jason stood there for a moment, yawning and glancing back toward the manor as the door creaked open again. Marinette emerged, her hair pulled into a neat bun, wearing gym shorts and a tank top that matched April's casual look.

"Alright, I'm ready!" Marinette beamed, jogging over to meet them.

Jason smirked, clapping his hands together. "And that's my cue to leave. You two have fun." He turned to walk away but paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "But seriously, don't break anything. No hospital visits, alright?"

April gave him a thumbs-up while Marinette waved him off. "We'll be fine, Jason. Go brood somewhere else."

Once he was out of earshot, April turned her full attention to Marinette. "Alright, let's get started."

The two dropped into the grass and began stretching together, April guiding Marinette through a few warm-up moves. "So, the routine is broken into three parts," April explained. "First, you'll learn the words to the cheer. Then, the motions. And finally, we'll put it all together with the music. Sound good?"

Marinette nodded eagerly, her focus sharpening. "Got it."

April started with the cheer, reciting it slowly for Marinette to repeat. The rhythm came easily to Marinette, who found herself picking it up faster than she'd expected.

"Good! You've got the words down," April praised, her voice encouraging. "Now let's work on the motions." She stood, demonstrating each movement with precision. Marinette mimicked her, her natural agility shining through as she quickly mastered the arm placements and footwork.

April watched her with an impressed smile. "Wow, you're a natural. I didn't think you'd pick it up this fast."

Marinette blushed at the compliment but kept her focus. "I've done a little choreography before... but never cheerleading."

"Well, it shows," April said, motioning for Marinette to follow along as she added a small jump to the sequence. "Alright, now let's put it all together. Words, motions, and music."

She grabbed her phone and started the song, its energetic beat filling the garden. Marinette took her position beside April, her nerves buzzing with excitement.

As the music played, Marinette moved through the routine with growing confidence. She stumbled once or twice, but April was quick to laugh it off and guide her back on track. By the end of their first full run-through, Marinette was breathless but grinning from ear to ear.

"That was amazing!" Marinette exclaimed, her cheeks flushed from exertion.

"You did great," April said, giving her a high five. "A few more practices, and you'll be ready to crush those tryouts."

Marinette nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was truly starting to find her footing again. "Thanks, April. This means a lot to me."

April smiled warmly, packing up her speaker. "No problem, Mari. That's what friends are for."

Marinette's heart skipped at the word "friends," and she couldn't help but grin as they walked back toward the manor together.

Chapter Text

Marinette practiced tirelessly over the next few days, running through the cheer routine until it became second nature. April had suggested she add a personal touch to stand out, and Marinette decided on a tumbling pass to finish off the routine. The challenge was exhilarating, and the former Ladybug felt her confidence grow as she mastered a seamless combination of cartwheels and a backflip.

When tryout day arrived, Marinette felt a surge of nervous energy, but she quickly pushed it aside. You've fought akumas, defeated Hawk Moth, and saved Paris countless times. This? This is nothing.

Jason and April were waiting for her near the gym. Jason gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, while April hugged her tightly, whispering, "You've got this, Mari. Just focus and show them what you've got."

Marinette took a deep breath, nodded, and stepped onto the gym floor. Under the watchful eyes of the coaches, she executed the routine with precision, nailing every motion and cheer phrase. The tumbling pass at the end earned her a few raised eyebrows and murmurs of approval from the judges. When it was over, Marinette felt a rush of satisfaction, no matter the outcome.

Now, standing in front of the bulletin board with Jason, her heart pounded as they scanned the lists. Jason leaned his elbow on her shoulder, a casual smirk on his face.

"Relax," he said with a chuckle. "We've got this."

Marinette's eyes darted down the alphabetical list, her breath catching when she saw her name printed clearly in black ink. Her chest swelled with pride as she turned to Jason, only to hear him shout across the hall, "Guess who's starting varsity this year!"

A group of guys from the football team cheered, calling out congratulations and making jokes about their rival schools. Jason's confidence was infectious, and Marinette couldn't help but smile at his excitement.

"Look, there's April," Jason said, nudging her. Marinette turned to see April approaching, her rose-tinted glasses glinting in the light. Marinette glanced back at the cheer list and spotted the words Cheer Captain printed at the bottom, with April's name proudly beside it.

April's eyes scanned the list, and a squeal of excitement escaped her lips. She threw her arms around Marinette. "We made it! I'm captain!"

Marinette laughed, hugging her back just as enthusiastically. "You deserve it! You're going to be an amazing captain."

Jason rejoined them, slinging his arm around Marinette's shoulders. "Well, look at us—cheerleader and varsity football player. Gotham Academy better watch out this year." He shot her a playful wink, his grin as wide as ever.

Marinette beamed up at him. "Yeah, we did it."

"This calls for a celebration!" Jason declared, pulling out his phone. "You and me, dinner at the best restaurant in town tonight. My treat."

"Jason, you don't have to do that," Marinette began, but she was interrupted by Devin, one of Jason's teammates, who clapped her on the back.

"Let him do it," Devin said with a grin. "Bruce is out of town, right? Jason's just following tradition. Besides, it'll make him happy."

Marinette glanced at Jason, who was already smiling as he talked on the phone to make a reservation. April nudged her gently.

"Look at him," she teased. "I'd say he's pretty happy."

Marinette laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, fine. Let's celebrate."

Jason hung up his phone with a triumphant grin. "Done. Be ready at seven, and wear something fancy. Tonight's going to be amazing."

Marinette felt a warm sense of belonging as she stood there with Jason and April. For the first time in a long while, Marinette felt like she truly belonged.

As the evening drew closer, she stood nervously in front of her closet, biting her lip. It was a luxurious walk-in closet, the kind she had only dreamed of back in Paris. Now, for the next two years, this would be hers. Her gaze swept across the racks of clothes, her fingers brushing over the fabrics, a mix of store-bought items and her handmade designs. The handmade ones always stood out the most. Each piece carried a story—a memory stitched into its seams.

She had brought only a fraction of her wardrobe from Paris, yet none of the dresses she had seemed right for tonight. With a groan, Marinette began pulling options from the hangers and tossing them onto the bed. She tried on the first—a silver dress with black embroidered leaves. It was elegant, classy even, and shimmered beautifully when she twirled, but it didn't feel like her.

The second dress was a deep green with a white ribbon belt. She had always loved its 1950s silhouette, but as soon as she saw herself in it, her throat tightened. All she could see were Adrien's eyes. She quickly slid the dress off, blinking back tears, and turned away from the mirror.

The third option was pink with delicate yellow roses embroidered along the hem. It was lovely—sweet and whimsical in all the ways that once defined her. She spun in it, hoping to feel the magic, but something about it felt out of place now. She couldn't picture herself in it next to Jason, and the thought made her heart sink.

Frustrated, Marinette glanced around her room, searching for inspiration. Her gaze landed on her sewing station in the corner, where a shimmering black fabric caught her eye. A grin tugged at her lips as she realized the solution had been right in front of her the whole time. She had been working on a two-piece ensemble, and though it wasn't entirely finished, it only needed one final touch.

She slipped out of her dress and hurried to her desk, hands flying as she added the last piece to her creation. When she finally stepped back to admire her reflection, her breath hitched. The outfit was perfect.

The knee-length skirt shimmered in the low light, adorned with crimson roses that wrapped around the hem. The back of the skirt flowed into a soft train, trailing down like a delicate cascade of petals. The crop top matched, the glittering black fabric embroidered with roses along the bottom. Nestled between the final two roses, subtle yet unmistakable, was a black bat—a quiet nod to the city she now called home.

With a swipe of red lipstick and a flick of her eyeliner, she completed the look. A pair of black flats added comfort, and she fastened the necklace Bruce had given her, along with her Robin bracelet. Standing tall in front of the mirror, Marinette smiled for the first time in hours.

This was it. This was her.

As she stepped into the hallway, the sound of her shoes clicking against the hardwood seemed to echo louder than usual. Her heart raced as she descended the stairs, catching sight of Alfred and Jason waiting at the bottom.

Jason leaned casually against the banister, his eyes glued to his phone, but Alfred noticed her first. The older man straightened, clearing his throat softly. Jason glanced up, and his breath audibly caught.

His blue eyes swept over her, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail. Marinette almost shivered under his gaze, feeling her cheeks flush. He slipped his phone into his pocket, straightening his jacket as his lips curved into an easy, crooked smile.

"Wow," Jason said simply, his voice low and warm. "You look... incredible."

"You look wonderful, Miss," Alfred added with a nod of approval. "If I may ask, is this the ensemble you were working on the other day?"

Marinette grinned, smoothing her skirt nervously. "It is. I just finished it tonight. I thought this would be the perfect time to wear it."

"It's more than perfect," Jason said, his tone sincere. "It's... Gotham in a way that's totally you. You're going to steal the spotlight tonight."

Marinette's cheeks warmed at the compliment, but before she could respond, Jason glanced at his watch. "We should get going, though, or we'll miss our reservation."

With a quick farewell to Alfred, Jason guided her toward his car. As he opened the passenger door for her, Marinette caught a glimpse of his red tie—the exact shade of her roses. She smiled, slipping inside and feeling, for the first time in ages, like she wasn't just blending into the world around her.

Tonight, she felt seen.

And Jason... Jason made her feel extraordinary.

The drive to the restaurant had been easy, but the moment they arrived, Marinette's confidence wavered. Her throat tightened as she took in the scene outside. The building was a towering glass masterpiece nestled in the heart of Gotham's wealthiest district. Every inch of the restaurant screamed luxury, from the way the golden chandeliers glittered against the glass façade to the soft hum of classical music that managed to slip through the thick doors.

A swarm of people stood in line outside, dressed to perfection. Men in tailored suits whispered to one another, their polished shoes catching the light from the streetlamps. Women adorned in sparkling gowns and draped in jewelry stood with poise, the glint of diamonds and gold practically stinging Marinette's eyes. She could swear she could taste the wealth radiating from the crowd, an overpowering mix of designer perfumes, expensive colognes, and pure privilege.

Jason sensed her hesitation immediately. He turned to her, his arm outstretched, offering silent reassurance. Marinette hesitated for a second, then slid her arm through his, clinging to the steady anchor he provided. Her fingers brushed against the soft fabric of his suit sleeve, and she exhaled a small, shaky breath.

Jason handed his keys to a valet with an ease that only someone who had grown up in this world could manage. The man bowed slightly, murmuring a polite "Mr. Wayne," before slipping into the driver's seat. Marinette glanced at Jason, but he only smiled and tugged her forward toward the glowing entrance.

As they approached, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sleek black suit stepped in their path, crossing his arms over his chest. His deep-set eyes scanned them briefly before he grunted, "No kids allowed."

Marinette's stomach dropped. She suddenly felt like a child playing dress-up, her carefully crafted outfit and polished makeup no match for the unspoken exclusivity of this place.

Jason, however, didn't even flinch. He rolled his eyes dramatically, exhaling like this was the most tedious thing in the world. "You seriously don't know who I am?" he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and annoyance.

The man raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do I look like I care?"

Jason smirked, clearly enjoying the exchange. "You should," he said smoothly, pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket and flashing his ID.

The man's face paled as his eyes darted between the card and Jason's face. His posture stiffened, and his voice faltered as he took a step back. "Excuse me, Mr. Wayne. Please, go on in."

Jason slid his wallet back into his pocket, his smirk widening. Marinette bit back a giggle, watching the man shuffle awkwardly to the side. She liked to think his unease was rooted in sheer embarrassment, though she couldn't deny Jason's last name carried enough weight in Gotham to unnerve almost anyone.

"See? Easy," Jason said, leaning down slightly to whisper in her ear. "Just stick with me, Mari. You'll be fine."

They stepped into the restaurant, and Marinette's breath caught. If the outside had been intimidating, the inside was nothing short of overwhelming. The chandeliers sparkled like liquid gold, their warm light casting a soft glow over the room. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, and every table was dressed with the finest white linens and centerpieces that looked like they belonged in an art gallery. The hum of conversation was gentle, punctuated by the clinking of crystal glasses and the faint strains of live piano music coming from a small stage at the far end of the room.

Marinette suddenly felt like an intruder. She tugged slightly at Jason's arm, leaning in to whisper, "Are you sure we're supposed to be here? This place is... a lot."

Jason chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. "Trust me, you belong here as much as anyone else." He glanced down at her with a grin. "Maybe more, considering how much better you look than half these people."

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, and she ducked her head to hide her smile. Jason led her further inside, a sharply dressed man with a clipboard who greeted them with a professional smile.

"Mr. Wayne, your table is ready," the man said, motioning for a server to escort them. Marinette noticed how everyone they passed seemed to glance their way. She felt every gaze, every whisper, like a spotlight trained on her.

Jason, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back as he guided her through the elegant maze of tables. By the time they reached their seats—a private, candlelit table near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering Gotham skyline—Marinette's nerves had settled slightly.

She sat down, smoothing her skirt as Jason helped push in her chair. When he took his seat across from her, his smile was boyish and genuine.

"Relax, Mari," he said, pouring her a glass of sparkling water from the crystal carafe on the table. "You're with me. Tonight's all about celebrating."

Marinette took a sip of the water, the cool bubbles calming her a little. She glanced around the room again, still in awe but beginning to feel just the slightest bit of ease. Maybe she didn't fit in with this world yet, but Jason was right—tonight was theirs, and for now, that was enough.

"Tell me, why here?" Marinette asked softly, her eyes flickering between Jason and the luxurious surroundings.

Jason leaned back slightly, the candlelight on the table casting warm shadows across his face. "Dad and I have celebrated different milestones here over the last couple of years." His expression softened, his eyes glowing as they caught the golden light. "This place is special to me, Marinette. I know you probably think I'm just some spoiled rich kid who's had everything handed to him, but the truth is..." He paused, his voice dropping, "I wasn't born into this life."

Marinette tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her gaze. "You were adopted, right? When you were little?"

Jason chuckled, swirling the glass of water in front of him before taking a sip. "Not exactly. I've only been adopted for... what, going on five years now."

Her eyes widened slightly. Five years? She hadn't known that. She'd picked up whispers from their peers about Jason being adopted, but he looked so much like Bruce that she'd always brushed it off as idle gossip.

Jason continued, his tone slower now, more reflective. "When I was younger, I had to fight for everything I had—including food. If I wanted to eat, I had to steal it or hustle for it. This place..." He gestured lightly to the room around them, his lips quirking into a small, wistful smile. "This place was something I only ever saw from the outside. I'd stand across the street, staring through the glass, wondering what it felt like to be this lucky."

Marinette's heart tightened at the thought of a younger Jason, hungry and alone, gazing into a world that must have felt galaxies away. "How did it feel?" she asked softly, her voice gentle. "The first time you came in here?"

Jason smiled at her, the kind of smile that carried a weight of memories behind it. "Nerve-racking. Worse than how you feel now, I promise you that." He leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on the edge of the table as he spoke. "I didn't feel like I belonged, not even for a second. The first time Dad brought me here, I thought everyone was staring at me, wondering what I was doing in their space. My suit felt too tight, my shoes too stiff. I was terrified of knocking over a glass or spilling something."

She couldn't help but smile faintly, imagining a younger, more awkward Jason in the same setting. "So what changed?"

Jason's gaze softened as he leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Dad told me something that stuck with me. He said, 'You don't have to prove anything to anyone here. You deserve this as much as anyone else.'" Jason's lips curved into a quiet smile. "It took me a while to believe him, but he was right. And now I'm telling you the same thing. You belong here, Marinette. You're not an outsider."

Marinette's cheeks flushed, and she glanced down at the table, letting his words sink in. She wasn't sure she believed him entirely, but something about the way he said it made her feel a little steadier, a little less out of place.

A server appeared at their table, interrupting the moment. "Good evening, Mr. Wayne, Miss. Are you ready to order?"

Jason glanced at Marinette. "Do you trust me to order for you?"

Marinette blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. "Um, sure. Go ahead."

Jason grinned, handing the server their menus and rattling off a series of dishes Marinette didn't recognize but was curious to try. Once the server had gone, Jason leaned forward again.

"Tonight's about celebrating, remember? So relax, enjoy the food, and let me show you how Gotham celebrates success," he said with a teasing glint in his eye.

Marinette chuckled softly, the tension in her chest easing just a little more. "Alright, Mr. Wayne. Show me."

And as the evening unfolded, with laughter, stories, and a feast unlike anything Marinette had ever experienced, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, she did belong here after all.

She found herself enjoying the atmosphere and the food far more than she had expected. The night felt perfect, effortless, and somehow... right. As she set her fork down, her gaze drifted across the table to Jason. Tonight had been full of surprises, not least of which was the vulnerable piece of himself he had shared with her earlier.

Now, it was her turn. Staring at him as they finished up their meal, Marinette considered what part of her life she could share—something meaningful, something that would let him know her better. Finally, she spoke.

"As nervous as I was to be here tonight, I had a friend back in Paris who was a lot like you," she began, her voice soft and reflective.

Jason raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

In her mind, green eyes, blonde hair, and a bright, mischievous smile took shape. Adrien. Chat Noir. Both versions of him overlapped like a bittersweet memory. "He was born into money," she continued, her lips curving into a faint smile. "His dad was a famous fashion designer, and he was the face of the brand. A model."

Jason chuckled. "Sounds fancy. How'd you meet him?"

Marinette giggled at the memory, warmth flickering in her chest. "At school but this was probably the first day I saw him as him, ya know? I was supposed to meet some friends at the pool, but I left the house in my pajamas. He was running away from a group of fans, and before I knew it, I was helping him hide."

Jason smirked. "Let me guess—that didn't go as planned."

She shook her head, her grin widening. "Not at all. Someone managed to snap a picture of us, and it ended up online with this wild rumor that we were dating. His dad was not happy. Adr—uh, my friend—wasn't trying to cause trouble; he just wanted to go see a movie like a normal teenager. But instead, he got mobbed by strangers asking for photos."

Jason leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Sounds like a disaster. How'd you handle it?"

Marinette shrugged, poking idly at the last bite of her food. "It wasn't ideal, but it was fun in a way. That one chaotic day gave us the start of a great friendship. He had this ability to make everything feel... lighter, even when it wasn't."

Her voice trailed off, and Jason noticed the shift in her expression. Her smile lingered, but it was tinged with something quieter—something wistful. He didn't press her, though he couldn't help but wonder about the shadow behind her words.

"You know," Jason said, breaking the silence gently, "I've had a few moments like that—people recognizing me or chasing me—but nothing close to what your friend must've dealt with. I can't imagine having my face that recognizable. Seems exhausting."

Marinette laughed lightly, though her heart tugged at the memory of Adrien. "It was. That one day was more than enough for me. I don't know how he managed it all the time."

Jason studied her for a moment, noting the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her napkin. "You miss him," he said softly, a statement rather than a question.

She hesitated before meeting his gaze. "Yeah," she admitted quietly, a bittersweet honesty in her tone. But before the moment grew too heavy, she offered him a small smile. "Thank you for this, Jason. For everything. You've made me feel so welcomed here."

Jason's brows furrowed slightly in concern. "Marinette, you don't have to thank me. You're the one who's made things better at the manor. It's been... livelier since you came."

Her smile softened, but her next words carried more weight. "To be honest, I didn't come to Gotham for the fun of it. I came here to get away. I'm running from something, and I guess I hoped a fresh start would help. And it has, thanks to you."

Jason leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Mari, whatever it is you're running from... don't run from it alone, okay? If you ever need someone to help, or just someone to listen, I'm here. Just say the word, and I'll run beside you."

Her breath caught, and for a moment, all she could do was look at him, this boy who seemed to understand her in a way she hadn't expected. She reached across the table, her hand brushing against his. "Thank you, Jason," she whispered.

For the first time in a long while, Marinette felt like maybe she didn't have to face her past—or her future—alone.

Chapter Text

The gym buzzed with the electric energy of a hundred conversations, laughter, and anticipation. Marinette sucked in a breath of humid air as she positioned herself at one end of the polished court, her heart pounding not just from the routine but from the sheer excitement of the moment. The scent of sweat and old wood mingled with the faint tang of cleaning supplies, a nostalgic aroma that seemed to cling to high school gyms everywhere. The bleachers were packed to the brim, students decked out in blue and gold face paint, waving handmade signs and chanting the school's name with a feverish passion.

Across the court, Paisley shot Marinette a quick, confident nod. Marinette responded with a grin, gripping her pom-poms a little tighter. As the music reached its peak, the cheerleaders launched into the final sequence of their routine. The synchronized sound of pom-poms snapping in rhythm echoed off the gym walls as their voices rang out, each cheer pulling the crowd into a frenzy.

The moment came. Paisley and Marinette broke from their spots and sprinted forward. With effortless precision, they executed a double front flip, landing smoothly to cheers and applause. A rush of exhilaration coursed through Marinette as she landed, her cheeks flushed from more than just exertion. She caught Jason's eye briefly in the crowd of football players waiting their turn, his lopsided grin making her stomach flutter.

April and River were quick to hand off their pom-poms, and Marinette took her spot in the front row as the gym exploded into cheers. One by one, the football players ran through the line of cheerleaders, their names shouted by adoring classmates. Jason's name drew one of the loudest cheers, a mix of admiration and school spirit. Marinette couldn't help but clap extra enthusiastically as he jogged past her, looking effortlessly cool in his jersey, his eyes briefly catching hers in the chaos.

The team assembled in a proud row, their sheer presence commanding attention. Coach Preston stepped forward, his booming voice cutting through the noise.

"Can we hear it one more time for our players?!" he called, his energy infectious. The students roared in response, stomping their feet against the bleachers and shaking signs in the air.

Marinette couldn't help but smile, swept up in the excitement. This was so different from Paris, where moments of unity like this had always felt tied to something much bigger—life-or-death battles or miraculous victories. Here, it was pure joy and school spirit, a reminder of simpler, carefree days.

Coach Preston turned to the team. "Tonight, we play against the Warriors, and we're going to crush them! Right, boys?"

The players answered with a resounding roar, their voices mixing with the crowd's excitement.

"Devin Black and Jason Wayne!" Coach waved the two forward. "Come tell us about the game."

Devin, the tall and confident quarterback, sauntered up to the mic with his arm casually slung around Jason's neck. "What's up?!" he called, earning an enthusiastic cheer from the crowd.

Jason leaned into the mic, his smirk widening. "Our final score is what's gonna be up when we knock those Warriors on their asses."

The gym erupted into laughter and applause, the students loving Jason's unfiltered confidence.

Devin chuckled, his grin almost as big as the crowd's reaction. "Wayne's got a mouth on him, huh?" The quarterback turned to the crowd. "But he's not wrong. Seven o'clock tonight, out of town—we're gonna watch those Warriors bleed."

The noise was deafening, the school pride palpable. Marinette found herself clapping and cheering alongside everyone else, even as her gaze kept straying back to Jason. He looked completely in his element, a natural leader with an undeniable charisma that drew everyone in.

The gym began to empty as the rally came to a close, the sound of excited chatter and the shuffle of feet filling the space. The school day was winding down, but the excitement of the pep rally still lingered in the air. Marinette straightened her cheer skirt with a content sigh, wiping a few stray pieces of confetti off her blouse. She felt lighter than she had in a long time, the joy of the day settling into her bones.

River and Dolly, both flushed with excitement from the day's activities, approached her with grins on their faces and a broom in River's hands. "We got the confetti cannon off, but now someone has to clean up the mess," Dolly said, giggling as they handed the broom to Marinette.

"Time to sweep the spirit away, huh?" River added with a wink.

Marinette chuckled as she accepted the broom. "I'll take care of it," she said, positioning herself between the bleachers. The cheerleaders and football players were all pitching in—some mopping, others sweeping, and a few packing away the props from the whipped cream games. It was all part of the process, and even though it was messy, there was something about working together that made the task feel lighter.

As she started sweeping the scattered confetti into piles, she overheard Dolly and River talking excitedly. "I can't believe the sophomores won the first spirit belt," Dolly said, her voice full of mock disbelief. "The freshmen so deserved it!"

River shook her head, her ponytail swinging with the motion. "Definitely not! The sophomores were the loudest, they deserved it."

Marinette shook her head with a smile as she continued to sweep. "Honestly, who cares about some belt?" She shrugged playfully, not fully invested in the debate.

There was a dramatic gasp from across the gym, and Marinette looked up to see Jason, who had been chatting with some of the football players, now strolling over toward them. "Nah, the juniors should've got it!" he called out, a mischievous grin on his face.

"That's ridiculous," Marinette giggled, rolling her eyes. "Who cares about the belt?"

Three gasps echoed from Jason, Dolly, and River. "How dare you say that, sugar," Jason said, clutching his chest as though he were wounded. "Disgraceful toward our beautiful Spirit Wrestling Belt! You've hurt me where it counts."

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Come on, you're so dramatic," she teased, laughing.

River and Dolly crossed their arms at the same time, their faces a mix of mock disapproval. They stopped sweeping, clearly offended. "I cannot believe you!" River said, tapping her foot. "Have some school spirit, Marinette!"

Marinette grinned, shaking her head. "Alright, alright, I get it! School spirit and all that." She gave in, pretending to be chastised, but it was clear from her grin that she was just enjoying the playful banter.

Jason flashed her a wink. "You'd better. The Spirit Wrestling Belt is sacred around here." He gave the belt a dramatic nod as if it were an ancient artifact.

"Oh, please. You're all too much," Marinette laughed, shaking her head as she continued sweeping.

The chatter continued as the students wrapped up the clean-up. Everyone was in high spirits, from the cheerleaders to the football players. It felt like a real community, a team where everyone pitched in, and it was a welcome change from the lonelier moments Marinette sometimes felt in her new life in Gotham. Tonight's victory, no matter how small, had left her feeling included, even if she still had some way to go in fully embracing the school's traditions.

As Jason joined her at the broom, his eyes softened for a moment. "You did great today," he said quietly, almost as if to reassure her. "You fit right in, Mari."

She glanced at him and smiled, her heart fluttering just a little. "Thanks, Jason. I think... I think I'm starting to feel like I belong."

The truth was, Marinette had never felt like this in Paris. In the City of Lights, she had always been fighting—fighting for validation, for acceptance, for a sense of belonging. As the class president, she worked tirelessly to be the best at everything: the top student, the most reliable friend, the perfect partner for her classmates. She had always carried the weight of those expectations, often feeling like the world was watching her every move. She couldn't afford to slip up, not when so many people depended on her, whether they realized it or not.

And then there was Ladybug. Being Paris's protector, its unsung hero, was a mantle she carried with pride, but it was also suffocating at times. There were moments when she felt like the world was asking too much of her, as though her entire identity was wrapped up in being the perfect symbol of hope and strength. Even when she was herself, it felt like she was constantly in the shadow of her alter ego, forever hiding behind a mask. To be Ladybug was to be perfect—no mistakes, no weaknesses—and that kind of perfection was exhausting.

But Gotham was different.

Here, she wasn't expected to be a flawless hero or the epitome of grace and control. Here, she could breathe. Here, she was just Marinette Dupain-Cheng. No one knew Ladybug, and no one expected her to save the world. They didn't need her to be perfect. She didn't need to wear a mask. She could just be.

For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. The pressure was gone, replaced with something that felt lighter, freer. There was a simple joy in just being.

In Paris, even her friendships had been fraught with expectations. She loved Alya and Luka dearly, but there was always this undercurrent of responsibility, like she had to be there for them in every moment. They counted on her to be strong, just like everyone else did. And though that wasn't a burden she minded most of the time, it did make her feel like she was always on, always performing.

But in Gotham, things were different. Take today, for example: the pep rally had been an entirely new experience for her. The energy was contagious, the school spirit palpable, but there was no weight to it. The cheerleaders had worked hard, but they didn't have to be perfect. The football players had done their part, but it wasn't about crushing rivals or being number one—it was about the fun of the game, the thrill of competition. Everyone was cheering for one another, sharing in the moment, and there was something so freeing about that. No one was asking her to be the best cheerleader. They just wanted her to be part of the team, to enjoy the ride.

And Jason...

She smiled at the thought of him, a soft warmth settling in her chest. With him, she didn't feel like she had to try. He didn't expect perfection from her. He liked her for who she was, for the quirks and flaws she'd always hidden in Paris. In Gotham, there was no Ladybug to hide behind, no secret identity that defined her. There was only Marinette—uncomplicated, imperfect, and still learning who she was outside of the roles she'd spent so many years defining herself by.

Here, she could make mistakes and laugh them off. She could be messy, carefree, and human. And that was something she hadn't realized she craved until now.

The contrast between her life in Paris and her life in Gotham couldn't have been starker. In Paris, everything had been about control. Her schoolwork, her relationships, her hero duties—they were all meticulously managed, all woven together into a careful tapestry of success and responsibility. She didn't have the luxury of moments where she could just stop and breathe.

In Gotham, it was different. The city itself was wild and unpredictable, a place where chaos reigned and heroes were born from brokenness. But somehow, here, it felt like she had permission to embrace that chaos, to find beauty in the mess. She was no longer a perfect student or a perfect hero. She was just Marinette.

And for the first time, that felt like enough.

Chapter Text

The energy of the football field was electric. The stands were packed, a sea of blue and gold banners waving in the air as the crowd roared in excitement. The smell of popcorn and grass mingled in the crisp evening breeze, and the floodlights bathed the field in a bright, almost magical glow.

The cheerleaders, stationed just off the sidelines, were ready to kick off the game with a stunt that promised to captivate the audience. Marinette stood at the front of the group, her petite frame—standing at just 4'11"—making her the perfect flyer. Despite her nerves, a smile tugged at her lips as she took her position.

"On three," Dolly instructed, her voice steady but full of energy. She locked eyes with each girl, ensuring they were all in sync. Marinette gave a small nod, her white pom-poms momentarily set aside as she prepared to soar.

"One." Paisley and River crouched slightly, their hands forming a firm base to support Marinette's weight.

"Two." Marinette placed her white tennis shoe carefully into their hands, her fingers resting lightly on their shoulders. Her heart raced, but she kept her face calm and confident. She could feel the strength of her bases beneath her, their determination as solid as the ground they stood on.

"Three!" Dolly shouted, her voice cutting through the din of the crowd.

With perfect synchronization, Paisley and River lifted, their arms strong and steady, propelling Marinette upward. The momentum carried her high into the air, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. The crowd gasped, their cheers swelling as Marinette reached the peak of her ascent.

Once airborne, Marinette struck a flawless pose, one arm extended upward with her fingers splayed out, the other bent at her side in a sharp cheerleading motion. Her legs formed a tight scorpion position, her balance impeccable as she smiled brightly at the crowd below.

On either side of her, two more cheerleaders were lifted into similar stunts, creating a perfect line of girls suspended high in the air, their bright blue and gold uniforms catching the light as they gleamed with school spirit. The synchronization was flawless, and the crowd's roar grew louder, a wave of applause and excitement rippling through the stands.

Marinette's heart pounded as she held her position, the thrill of the moment washing over her. She glanced at Jason on the sidelines with the rest of the football team, his eyes locked on her. Even from this height, she could see his proud smirk, and it sent a surge of confidence through her.

With practiced precision, Dolly called the next cue. "Ready! Down!"

Marinette tucked her legs and allowed herself to descend, her bases catching her with ease. The landing was smooth, the girls lowering her carefully to the ground as the team formed a pyramid behind her. Marinette popped up into another cheer motion, her pom-poms back in hand as the crowd erupted again.

The school band picked up the tempo, the rhythm of their drums syncing perfectly with the stomps and claps of the cheerleaders. Marinette couldn't help but grin. For the first time, she felt like she belonged here, part of something bigger, part of a team. The night had just begun, and already, it felt unforgettable.

With their stunt finished and the cheerleaders now stationed at the sidelines, the attention shifted to the players taking their positions on the field. Marinette adjusted her skirt and shook her pom-poms lightly, watching as the football team huddled together. She caught sight of Jason just as he pulled on his helmet, his sharp features momentarily hidden behind the protective gear.

Before he turned back to the game, Jason glanced her way, a small, confident smirk tugging at his lips. Then came the wink. Marinette's face instantly flushed, the blush creeping from her cheeks to her ears. She ducked her head slightly, hoping no one noticed—though River, ever perceptive, didn't miss a thing.

"Someone's got a little admirer," River teased, her elbow nudging Marinette playfully.

Marinette stuck her tongue out in response, earning a laugh. "You're so childish, Marinette," April said, grinning as she casually rested her elbow on Marinette's shoulder. At 4'11", Marinette was used to being the group's unofficial armrest, though it didn't bother her much.

"Better childish than boring," Marinette quipped back, earning a chorus of giggles from the girls around her.

As the whistle blew to signal the start of the game, Marinette's attention shifted back to the field. The boys lined up in their positions, helmets gleaming under the bright stadium lights. Jason stood confidently in the backfield, his stance ready, his focus sharp. Marinette found herself drawn to his energy; even from the sidelines, it was clear he commanded attention on the field.

She sighed softly, leaning on the railing as the players took their positions. "So, who are we supposed to be cheering for again?" she joked, causing a couple of the other cheerleaders to chuckle.

"You're hopeless," April said with a grin. "It's easy—when they score, we go wild. When they don't, we cheer louder so they don't feel bad."

Marinette smiled but remained silent as she tried to piece together what was happening on the field. Back in Paris, football meant soccer, a game she was familiar with. American football, however, was an entirely different beast. She'd seen clips of it on social media, the players crashing into each other, the touchdowns, the celebrations, but she'd never actually sat through an entire game.

When April and the other girls had attempted to explain it during practice, it had only left her more confused. Something about downs, yard lines, and something called a blitz? She'd nodded along, but her brain had been stuck on wait, why do they stop running so much?

Even so, she didn't let her confusion show now. The energy of the crowd, the pounding of the drums from the school band, and the booming cheers were contagious. Marinette figured she'd figure it out as the night went on—or not. Either way, she was having fun, and that was enough.

Her gaze wandered back to Jason. He crouched slightly in position, his hands twitching in anticipation. The quarterback barked out commands, and then, with a loud snap, the play began. Jason exploded into motion, his speed startling even to Marinette, who had grown used to his casual confidence.

"Wow," she murmured, her eyes following him as he dodged one defender, then another, before charging down the field with an intensity that left the crowd roaring.

April leaned in closer, her voice smug. "Yeah, he's something, isn't he? Told you our running back's the best."

Marinette didn't respond, her focus still locked on Jason. She might not know the rules of the game, but she understood effort, precision, and determination when she saw it—and Jason Wayne had all of those in spades.

As the play ended and Jason jogged back to the huddle, he glanced her way once more, giving her a subtle nod. Marinette's chest fluttered, and she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Maybe she didn't understand football yet, but she was starting to understand why Gotham felt so special. 

As the night wore on, the boys delivered on their promises from the pep rally. They were winning—no, they were dominating. The scoreboard glowed brightly, their victory shining for all to see. Marinette and the others cheered loudly, their voices blending with the energy of the crowd.

When the game ended, the players lined up, shaking hands in a show of sportsmanship.

Marinette stayed behind to help, gathering cheer props alongside the team. The other girls packed the pom-poms into bags, laughter and chatter weaving through the crisp night air. For once, Marinette felt a lightness she hadn't experienced in so long. No pressures, no looming responsibilities—just simple, wholesome fun. She inhaled deeply, letting the cool air fill her lungs. This is what it felt like to be free. For the first time, she felt alive, and she didn't want it to end.

But her moment of peace was short-lived.

"Anyone seen our captain?" Paisley asked, her sharp tone cutting through the lingering cheer. She scanned the huddle of girls, a frown tugging at her lips.

"I haven't seen April," River replied, sighing as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Girls, finish packing up. Marinette, Dolly, Paisley—you're with me. Let's go find her."

The trio nodded in unison, their previous lightheartedness replaced with a subtle unease. Together, they followed River toward the gate leading to the bleachers.

"Marinette, you and Paisley head toward the bathrooms and concession stand," River instructed. "Dolly and I will check under the bleachers and ask around with the yearbook crew and band members."

"This is weird," Paisley muttered as they split off. She tugged at her sparkling blue bow, letting it fall into her hands. "Why would she wander off without telling us?"

Marinette glanced at her, brows furrowed. "I don't know. It's... unsettling."

The crowd thinned as people left the stadium, the excited murmurs of victory fading into the night. Marinette and Paisley soon reached the stretch of perfectly manicured grass near the concession stand and bathrooms.

"I'll check the bathroom," Marinette said, breaking the tense silence. "See if she's helping the teachers pack up the snacks."

Paisley nodded, heading toward the concession stand as Marinette veered to the bathroom.

The yellow-painted metal door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. A middle-aged woman stood at the mirror, fixing her hair, while a single stall door remained closed.

"Hey, April?" Marinette called, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

The woman glanced at her through the mirror. "It's just me and my daughter in here," she said kindly.

Marinette hesitated before asking, "Have you seen a tall brunette in a cheer uniform? She wears rose-colored glasses."

The woman nodded. "Yeah, I saw her with a tall, broad-shouldered boy in a band uniform. They went toward the other side of the concession stand."

Marinette thanked her and hurried out.

As she exited, she spotted Paisley near the concession stand, arms crossed and speaking urgently with Jason. She jogged over, catching the tail end of their conversation.

"Marinette! Did you find her?" Paisley asked, her frown deepening when Marinette shook her head.

"I talked to Dolly and River on my way over," Jason added grimly. "No one's seen her. Has anyone tried calling her?"

Marinette pulled a rose-covered phone from her pocket. "This is April's," she said, her voice tight. "We can't call her. But someone in the bathroom said she saw April with a band guy."

Paisley's brows knitted together. "What did he look like?"

"Tall, broad, maybe a bit burly," Marinette said, glancing between them. She noticed Jason's jaw tighten, realization dawning on both his and Paisley's faces.

Jason didn't wait. He took off at a jog toward the men's restroom. Paisley followed, her ponytail swinging behind her, and Marinette rushed after them.

When they reached the restroom, Jason tried the door. It was locked. He rattled it, frustration etched into every movement.

"April!" Paisley shouted, panic creeping into her voice. "Are you in there?"

The only response was a muffled whimper.

Jason cursed under his breath, pulling back. He fiddled with his watch, the device emitting a faint hum before a concentrated beam of light shot at the lock. The door burst open with a heavy kick, slamming against the wall.

"Be quiet!" a deep voice hissed from inside. Another whimper followed, sharp and fearful.

Jason strode into the restroom, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as a burly teenager in a rumpled band uniform stepped out, smirking.

"Where is she, Shane?" Jason growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Shane sneered. "What are you gonna do, Wayne?"

The tension thickened, and Marinette's stomach twisted. Something told her this wasn't going to end quietly.

Jason's shoulders squared, and his voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "I'm going to make sure you regret ever laying a hand on her." His fists clenched tightly as he stepped forward, his presence enough to make Shane hesitate.

Shane, taller and broader, sneered, attempting to mask his unease. "Tough talk, Wayne. But you're just some rich boy playing hero—"

Jason didn't let him finish. His fist shot out with lightning speed, landing squarely on Shane's jaw with a sickening crack. Shane staggered back, cursing, but Jason didn't give him time to recover. A second punch to the stomach doubled Shane over, and a swift kick sent him sprawling to the floor.

"Get out," Jason hissed, his voice cold and unforgiving. "Before I lose my patience."

Shane scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his split lip, and muttered something under his breath before stumbling out the door past the girls. Paisley instinctively stepped in front of Marinette, shielding her from Shane as he slunk away into the crowd.

Jason turned immediately toward the source of the whimper. "April?" he called gently, his tone softening as he scanned the dimly lit bathroom. Marinette stepped in cautiously behind him, her eyes searching.

A small, choked sob came from a corner near the sinks. Marinette spotted April huddled against the wall, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her uniform was dirty and rumpled, streaked with dust and grass stains, and faint bruises were beginning to bloom on her arms. Tears streamed down her face, smudging her carefully applied game-night makeup.

"April!" Paisley exclaimed, rushing forward. She knelt beside their captain, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay? Did he—did Shane hurt you?"

April shook her head, though her voice wavered as she tried to speak. "I'm okay," she whispered, her words catching on a sob. "He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me in here, but I kicked him and got away to the corner. I—I didn't know if he'd come back."

Jason crouched down beside her, his expression a mix of concern and guilt. "You're safe now," he said firmly. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

April nodded, her breaths uneven but steadying. Marinette quickly pulled a water bottle from her cheer bag and handed it to her. "Here, take a sip. It's okay now."

Paisley helped April to her feet, supporting her as she wobbled slightly. "Let's get you cleaned up," Paisley said gently, brushing some dirt off April's sleeve. "And then we'll get you home."

"I—I didn't mean to scare everyone," April murmured. "I just leaving the women's room, and then Shane—he was just there."

"You did nothing wrong," Marinette assured her, her tone firm yet comforting. "We're just glad we found you."

Jason stood, his jaw still tight as he glanced toward the door Shane had fled through. "I'll make sure Coach knows what happened," he said, his voice grim. "He won't get away with this."

As they helped April out of the restroom and back toward the main field, Marinette couldn't help but glance at Jason. His protective instincts, his anger on April's behalf—it reminded her why she had grown to trust him so much. For all his rough edges, his heart was in the right place.

When they reached the cheer squad's area, Dolly and River rushed over, immediately fussing over April. Marinette, Paisley, and Jason stepped back, giving her space.

"Thanks, Jason," Paisley said quietly. "You really came through."

Jason shrugged, brushing off the praise, but Marinette caught the faintest flicker of pride in his expression. "No one messes with my team," he said simply.

River approached them, her gaze fixed on April as Dolly helped her clean up. "I'm going to take her home," she said softly, her voice firm with quiet resolve. "You two should head out. We're all leaving. I think we've had enough excitement for one night."

Marinette nodded. "Call me if you need anything."

River offered a tight smile. "I will, don't worry." She turned back to April, who was still trembling slightly but nodding in agreement to leave.

Jason and Marinette made their way to his car in silence, the events of the evening weighing heavily on them. As they pulled out of the parking lot, the hum of the engine filled the quiet air.

"How did you know?" Marinette finally asked, her voice soft but curious.

Jason sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. "That's April's ex," he said after a moment. "Shane's caused problems before, but his dad's got money—enough to keep him out of trouble every time. I've been keeping an eye on him for a while now, just in case."

Marinette glanced at him, her brows furrowing. "Why didn't anyone report him? Or—"

Jason cut her off, his voice sharper than before. "This is Gotham, Mari. Money and power cover up a lot of sins. You think the system here works the same as in Paris? It doesn't. This city's rotten to the core. Even when someone's caught red-handed, half the time they walk free."

He paused, taking a deep breath, his tone softening but still carrying an edge of steel. "I know Gotham's been peaceful for you so far, but it's dangerous. We're the number one crime capital of the world for a reason." He turned his head slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto hers for a brief moment before returning to the road. "Don't ever go off on your own, no matter where you are."

Marinette blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. "Jason, I—"

He cut her off again, his voice lower but heavy with emotion. "You're not safe here, Mari. No one is. Promise me. Promise me you won't ever let your guard down."

The gravity of his words hit her like a tidal wave. Marinette had faced danger before. She had been Ladybug, a hero who fought chaos and manipulation daily. She had stood against Hawk Moth, saved Paris more times than she could count, and led her team with unwavering determination. But no one—not even her partner, Chat Noir—had ever told her she wasn't safe.

Her chest tightened as her eyes began to water, the weight of Jason's plea sinking in. "I promise, Jason," she whispered.

Satisfied but still tense, Jason reached over and gently patted her thigh, his touch brief but reassuring. He didn't say anything else, but the gesture spoke volumes.

Marinette stared out the window, her reflection meeting her gaze as the dark streets of Gotham sped past. She knew danger; it was nothing new to her. But Jason's words carried a truth she hadn't fully grasped until now. Gotham wasn't just a new start. It wasn't just a fresh beginning. It was a city with shadows deeper than she'd ever known.

She thought back to all the times she'd been in control, how her wits and instincts had guided her through life-threatening situations. But Gotham was different. It didn't play by the rules she was used to. Here, the danger wasn't always a supervillain or an akuma. Sometimes it was something—or someone—hiding in plain sight.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her seat as she resolved to take Jason's warning seriously. Gotham wasn't Paris. And if she was going to survive here, she couldn't let her guard down—not even for a moment.

Chapter Text

Marinette couldn't get Jason's words out of her head.

"You're not safe."

The echo of his voice reverberated through her mind, a constant refrain that caged her in invisible bars. Even weeks later, the weight of his warning hadn't lifted.

She tried to brush it off, to tell herself it was just Jason being overprotective. But deep down, she knew it wasn't that simple. Gotham wasn't Paris. It was raw and unpredictable, a place where danger didn't announce itself with butterfly-shaped masks or flashy costumes. It lurked in the shadows, in the corners of crowded rooms, or even in plain sight.

Marinette clutched her bag tighter as she walked into the mall, her heart beating a little faster than it should. The bright lights and chatter of shoppers filled the air, but it felt suffocating instead of comforting. She scanned the area as if expecting something—or someone—to jump out.

River noticed her tense posture almost immediately. "You okay?" she asked, nudging Marinette's shoulder gently as they weaved through the crowd.

"I'm fine," Marinette replied quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. She forced a smile, hoping it would reassure her friend.

River raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "Alright. Well, Dolly's already at the food court, so let's catch up before she eats all the fries again."

Marinette nodded, following River through the bustling mall. She tried to focus on the colorful storefronts and the holiday decorations being put up, but the unease gnawed at her.

By the time they reached the food court, Marinette's nerves were frayed. She flinched when someone bumped into her, muttering a quick apology before speeding away.

"You sure you're good?" River asked again as they sat down. Dolly was already halfway through a milkshake, waving cheerfully at them.

Marinette hesitated, her fingers playing with the strap of her bag. "It's just... Jason said some things, and I guess I'm overthinking them."

River leaned back, her expression softening. "Let me guess—he gave you the classic Gotham warning speech?"

Marinette nodded, and River chuckled lightly. "Yeah, that tracks. Jason cares, but he's also dramatic. Don't let him spook you too much."

"Easy for you to say," Marinette muttered, glancing around the crowded food court. "You've lived here your whole life."

River shrugged, popping a fry into her mouth. "True, but you get used to it. You just have to find a balance. Stay alert, yeah, but don't let it consume you. Otherwise, you'll never leave the house."

Dolly, having finished her milkshake, chimed in. "Plus, you've got us. If anything shady happens, we'll handle it. Right, River?"

"Exactly," River said, smiling at Marinette. "You're not alone, Mari."

Marinette's chest tightened, but this time it wasn't from anxiety. It was from gratitude. She nodded, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Thanks, guys."

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics—like their plans for the weekend and the latest drama at school—Marinette felt herself relaxing bit by bit. The mall was still loud and crowded, but it wasn't as overwhelming anymore.

Jason's words lingered in the back of her mind, but they weren't as suffocating now. Maybe River was right—maybe she could find a balance between Gotham's edge and her Parisian past. For the first time since she arrived, Marinette allowed herself to relax. She fell into a comfortable rhythm shopping with the girls, laughing at Dolly's jokes and admiring River's steady confidence. It felt normal. Safe.

Until River and Dolly decided to split up.

Marinette tensed immediately. "Do we really have to?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

River smiled reassuringly. "I'll be fine, Marinette. I'm from Gotham, remember? I've done this a million times. Besides, I've got pepper spray."

Dolly waved a hand dismissively. "Come with me, Mari. The fabric store is literally right next to the makeup shop." She rolled her eyes at Marinette's frown. "We're not running off into a dark alley, okay?"

Marinette sighed but nodded. She couldn't argue without sounding paranoid, and Jason's warnings still echoed in her mind. You're not safe. No one is.

She reluctantly followed Dolly through the crowded mall. The buzz of voices, the clatter of footsteps, and the endless swirl of colors around her felt suffocating. Her heart raced as her eyes darted over the sea of faces, searching for anything suspicious.

Jason had taught her to always expect the unexpected in Gotham. She just hadn't expected it to come in the form of a man approaching her from behind in the fabric store.

"Excuse me—" Marinette began, turning to face him.

The cold press of metal against her lower back froze her in place.

"Don't scream," the man hissed, his coffee-stained breath warm against her ear. "I'll shoot you right here if you do."

Marinette's blood ran cold. She didn't turn her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the bolts of fabric in front of her. "What do you want?" she asked softly, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her throat.

"I want money," the man said, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. "And word on the street is you're real cozy with Wayne's kid. It's simple, sweetheart—come with me, Bruce sends me a nice fat ransom, and no one gets hurt."

Her stomach twisted. "Okay," she whispered. "Just... don't hurt anyone."

"Of course not." His tone turned mocking. "I'm a professional."

The man grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not rough, and began leading her toward the store's exit. Marinette's mind raced.

Every time she glanced at his face, it seemed different—blurring, shifting, unrecognizable. Magic? Technology? Both? Whatever it was, it meant identifying him later would be nearly impossible.

As they stepped into the mall's main corridor, her gaze darted to Dolly, who was flipping through a rack of lipsticks at the makeup store. Another man loitered nearby, his eyes locked on Dolly with a predatory intensity. Across the way, she spotted two more men stationed near the food court, their stances unnaturally stiff.

Marinette swallowed hard. He wasn't bluffing about having backup.

She was outnumbered, unarmed, and being dragged away from safety. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to fight back, but she hesitated. If she tried to escape, what would happen to Dolly? To River? To the dozens of innocent people in the mall?

Her mind whirled, calculating. She couldn't take them all down, but maybe—just maybe—she could disrupt their plan. Jason had taught her more than how to fight. He'd taught her how to think like a tactician.

Marinette lowered her head, letting the man pull her through the lobby doors. Her heart pounded, but her steps remained steady. She needed to bide her time, gather more information, and wait for the perfect moment.

Because if no one else could save her, she'd save herself. And she'd protect her friends in the process.

Ladybug never backs down, she thought fiercely, her fingers twitching as if calling her yoyo to her side. Even in Gotham.

They emerged onto the sidewalks, the sun casting long shadows as it dipped below the horizon. The warm glow of twilight felt out of place against the cold dread in Marinette's chest.

Ahead of them, a dark car with tinted windows rolled to a stop at the curb. Its sleek, predatory design screamed danger. Marinette's pulse quickened as the man tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her toward the car. She braced herself, expecting to be shoved inside and whisked away to an uncertain fate.

But then, a loud thud shattered the tense air, followed by the unmistakable crack of breaking glass.

Marinette's head snapped up just in time to see a figure perched atop the car. He must have leaped from the ledge of the mall roof.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence commanding even in the fading light. A black domino mask obscured his eyes, and a yellow cape fluttered behind him in the breeze. His armor—dark red over his chest and abdomen—was battle-worn but sturdy. His green and black pants bore scuff marks, and a yellow utility belt hung snug around his waist, its pouches neatly arranged.

A bold yellow "R" was stitched into the corner of his chest.

Marinette's breath hitched. Robin. Batman's partner, Gotham's infamous Boy Wonder, stood between her and her captors like a sentinel of justice.

"Step away from the girl," Robin growled, his voice distorted by a voice modulator that gave it an intimidating, metallic edge. "Before I break your teeth in."

The man holding Marinette sneered, his grip tightening. "I'm not scared of the Boy Wonder. Why don't you run back to the Bat and leave the big boys to handle business?"

Robin's expression didn't change, but his arm moved with a flicker of motion too fast to follow. Marinette barely registered the metallic glint before her captor let out a blood-curdling scream.

The man released her, clutching his face where a sharp yellow object—a Batarang—had embedded itself in his cheek. Blood seeped through his fingers as he stumbled back, his tough facade crumbling under the pain.

"Run," Robin barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Marinette didn't need to be told twice. She stumbled back, her legs trembling as adrenaline surged through her veins. She barely noticed Robin launching himself off the car, delivering a bone-crunching kick to the man's side. The sound of the fight erupted behind her—grunts, shouts, and the dull thuds of fists meeting flesh.

But Marinette didn't look back. She wasn't a hero anymore. She didn't have a yoyo, a transformation, or the strength of Ladybug to carry her through this.

She was just Marinette. A civilian. And it was her time to run and let someone else save the day.

Marinette soon found herself seated in the back of an ambulance, her trembling hands clasped tightly in her lap. A paramedic knelt beside her, shining a small flashlight into her eyes as part of a routine check.

"You're okay," the paramedic assured her with a soft smile, tucking the flashlight back into their pocket. "No injuries, no signs of shock, but it's normal to feel shaken after something like this."

Marinette nodded stiffly, the words barely sinking in. She hadn't been physically harmed, but the thought that she could have been sent a shiver down her spine.

Her gaze flickered to the figure standing a short distance away, just beyond the flashing lights of police cars and ambulances. Robin stood in the shadows, his cape pooling at his feet as he watched the scene unfold. She couldn't help but lock eyes with him, though his expression remained unreadable beneath his domino mask.

How did he know where I was? The thought circled in her mind, unsettling and persistent. It felt too coincidental for him to appear at just the right moment, in just the right place.

But in the end, it didn't matter. She was safe. Everyone else was safe. No one but the armed men had been hurt.

That should be enough for her.

Robin gave her a small, curt nod, a silent acknowledgment before disappearing into the night like a shadow dissipating with the dawn. Marinette didn't even see him leave—just blinked, and he was gone.

Her focus snapped back as she spotted two familiar figures rushing toward her through the commotion. Bruce, his usually composed demeanor shattered by panic, pulled her into a protective embrace as soon as he reached her.

"Oh, Marinette," he breathed, his voice heavy with relief. His arms wrapped around her securely, as if anchoring her to safety.

Marinette melted into his embrace, letting the comfort wash over her. "I'm okay," she whispered, her voice steadying as she pulled back to meet his worried eyes. "I'm okay, thanks to Gotham's heroes."

Bruce gave her a tight-lipped nod, his jaw clenched with lingering worry.

"Yes, well, we are incredibly fortunate to have them," Alfred added, his calm voice a soothing counterpoint to the chaos around them. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes warm and reassuring. "Now, let's get you back to the manor safe and sound. This has been quite the eventful and frightening ordeal."

Marinette let out a dry laugh, a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "Yeah," she murmured, "it has been."

As Bruce and Alfred guided her toward the waiting car, Marinette cast one last glance at the spot where Robin had stood moments before. Her chest tightened, a swirl of gratitude and unease mingling within her.

Gotham's heroes had saved her tonight, but Jason's words echoed in her mind, louder than ever: You're not safe here.

Chapter Text

Marinette found herself staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the lingering unease that gnawed at her. The world outside her window was still, peaceful even, but her mind was racing. It was the middle of the night, but sleep was something she couldn't find. Too many questions, not enough answers.

She replayed the events of earlier in her mind over and over. The mall, the terror, the fear. She could still feel the weight of the man's grip on her arm, the cold metal of the gun pressing against her back. She could still hear his voice, low and menacing, telling her not to scream, threatening the safety of her friends.

And then, Robin.

Robin.

She could still see him—his red and yellow armor gleaming under the mall's lights, the precision of his movements as he took down the thugs, as if he had known exactly where to be. She had never felt so grateful, so helpless, all at once.

But even in the relief of being saved, one thought clung to her: Jason.

Her mind kept coming back to his warning, the urgency in his voice when he told her, "You're not safe here, Mari. No one is."

It hadn't just been a casual warning. There was something in the way he said it that made her stomach twist—like he knew something was coming. Like he'd already sensed the danger, even before it arrived.

She had promised him she'd be careful. She had trusted him. But the more she thought about it, the more paranoia crept in. How had he known?

He was so certain that something would happen, that she wasn't safe. But how could he have known? Was there more to Jason than she had realized?

The words echoed in her head, getting louder with each passing minute: No one is safe.

Marinette sat up in bed, her mind spinning. The night had started off as something so simple—just a day at the mall with her friends. She hadn't even thought about the dangers, had barely noticed the eyes that seemed to follow them. But now, with the night stretching on and the shadows growing longer in her room, every little noise made her jump.

What if the man who had grabbed her was just one part of something bigger? What if Jason had known this was coming? Was he being targeted because of his connection to the Waynes?

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. But it wasn't just the warning that haunted her. It was the reason behind it. Because I'm close to Jason.

The words felt like a weight on her chest. Her connection to Jason—her relationship with him—wasn't just something that marked her life as significant. It had made her a target. Not just for anyone, but for people who were capable of pulling off something like what happened in the mall.

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She had tried to live a normal life, to distance herself from the chaos of being Ladybug, but Gotham had a way of dragging you back in. Her love for Jason, her ties to the Wayne family, made her a target.

She was in danger because of them. Because of him.

Jason had been right. There were forces out there, people who wanted to use him and hurt those close to him. And now, she was part of that equation. It wasn't safe.

Her heart pounded in her chest, but it wasn't just fear. It was something deeper, something she had been avoiding for a long time. The fact that she could never escape the danger. She'd been a hero for so long—Ladybug, protector of Paris. But now she was just a girl, a civilian trying to live in a world that never gave her a chance to breathe. And even though she had given up the mantle, the world had a funny way of reminding her that you could never truly run from being a hero.

She was tied to a city that bred danger, a family that attracted enemies. And Jason... he wasn't just some ordinary guy. He was the son of Bruce Wayne, the White Knight of Gotham. She should have known the danger would follow. She just hadn't realized how close it would get.

But what terrified her the most was the truth she'd been trying to avoid:

It didn't matter how far she ran. She was in this for life.

The clock ticked on, but Marinette didn't move from her bed. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about Jason, about the danger she now felt pressing in on every side. The weight of his warning pressed down on her shoulders like a storm waiting to break.

And then it hit her.

She wasn't safe because none of them were. She just didn't know how far it went yet.

The weekend slowly slipped by with Marinette holed up in Wayne Manor. She hadn't left her room much, save for meals, and even then, she kept to herself. The men of the house didn't press her. They gave her the space she needed, as if they, too, understood the weight she was carrying. Jason had made his warning clear, and her mind was still spinning from the near-abduction in the mall. A part of her wanted to run, to escape everything that connected her to Gotham—to him—but deep down, she knew that wouldn't change anything.

Her mind swirled with endless questions that she couldn't answer, questions about her future, about Jason, about what kind of danger she was in now. The city's shadows felt heavier with every passing minute.

It was a quiet Sunday evening when a knock at the door broke the silence. She didn't need to look at the clock or check who it was. She knew. Jason had arrived. By now, she had learned the distinctive footfalls of the people around her. Jason's steps were always just a little louder than the other two men in the house—Alfred's were always quiet, like a whisper of the past; Bruce's were steady and calm, almost methodical. But Jason's... Jason's were determined, each step purposeful, like he had something to prove.

Marinette wasn't at her desk, sketching. She wasn't staring at the view from her window. She was in her closet, sitting on the floor, surrounded by memories that felt too heavy to carry. Her gaze was locked on the Miracle Box hidden in the back corner, tucked away under forgotten air ducts no longer in use in the manor.

The box had been given to her when Master Fu passed on his mantle. It felt like a lifetime ago, when she had been Ladybug. Now, the title didn't seem to belong to her anymore. The weight of the box was heavier than it had ever been. She stared at the small, almost forgotten dolls of akuma victims, and at the figures of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Dolls she had made long ago when the world still felt like it could be saved with a smile. The girl who had fought for Paris, the girl who thought she could save everyone. That version of Marinette hadn't known what it would cost her. She hadn't understood what it meant to bear the weight of a city's hopes, or the cost of losing everything. No fourteen-year-old should have had to carry that kind of burden alone. Yet, here she was. Alone.

Another knock came, louder this time. "Let me in, sugar," Jason's voice called from the other side.

Her eyes flickered back to the Miracle Box. She wanted to hide, to escape, to bury herself in the past where things felt simpler. But there was no escaping this now.

With a deep breath, she stood, walking toward the door. She didn't look at him when she opened it. She didn't need to. She knew he was there, his presence filling the doorway, heavy with worry and something else—something she couldn't quite place.

"Can I come in?" he asked softly.

She stepped aside to let him in, her mind racing even as her body seemed to move on autopilot.

Jason didn't waste time. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, but neither of them spoke for a moment. Marinette felt the weight of his gaze on her, the question lingering between them: What do you do after everything changes?

Finally, she broke the silence. "You warned me," she began, her voice small. "So clearly."

Jason sighed, a heavy, resigned sound. "I know."

Marinette shook her head slightly, her thoughts jumbled. "It was almost as if you knew."

Jason didn't look away. "I've been there, Marinette."

Her eyes flickered to the newspaper clipping he handed her, the edges frayed from years of handling. The date was from two years ago, and there, in stark black-and-white, was a photo of Jason, tied up, glaring at the camera with defiance in his eyes. Unlike her, he wasn't scared. He didn't look like a victim. He looked like someone who had been forged by pain, someone who could survive this.

"I'm a Wayne," Jason continued, leaning back against her bed, his voice quiet but firm. "That name carries weight in Gotham. Dad is powerful here. He owns half the city. That made me a target." His eyes were distant, like he was remembering something dark. "Ransom, kidnappings... it's not just a part of our family's life—it's a reality. I didn't want that for you. I never thought they'd go after you, Marinette. Dad didn't think so either. He would've never brought you here if he thought it would put you in danger."

She stared at the article, reading the headline that made her stomach twist: Jason Wayne Escapes Kidnappers with Help of Batman and Robin.

Marinette set the newspaper down, her fingers trembling slightly as she spoke. "I've been hurt, Jason. More times than you can imagine." Her voice cracked slightly. "But this... this is different. I'm afraid... I'm afraid that I'll never be safe, as you wish me to be. Not in Paris, not in Gotham, not anywhere."

Her chest tightened, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Every part of her ached with the weight of her own helplessness. Jason had warned her. He had tried to protect her. But how could she ever be safe when danger followed her like a shadow?

Jason's gaze softened, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I know you're scared, Mari. But you're not alone in this. I'm here. We're all here. And we'll make sure that nothing happens to you, no matter what."

Marinette swallowed, her throat tight. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let go of the fear that had taken root in her heart. But she couldn't. She couldn't pretend anymore. There was too much danger in the world for her to simply live without looking over her shoulder.

And in the end, maybe that was the hardest truth of all.

Jason sighed, his eyes flicking toward the TV as he lazily picked up the remote. "Unfortunately, I have more unfortunate news for you," he said with a half-grin, as he clicked the TV on. The Gotham news station flickered to life, and Marinette's heart sank when she saw the footage. There, in stark contrast to the serene evening they'd been trying to salvage, was Robin—perched on top of a car, holding Marinette by the arm, the scene from the mall broadcast across the screen.

The reporter's voice came in, "We like to advise parents that this footage is graphic."

The video hit play in an instant. The camera zoomed in on Robin delivering a swift kick to one of the kidnappers before turning to yell at Marinette. "Run!" His voice was urgent, commanding.

The screen then cut back to the reporter, who said, "Friday evening, Gotham Academy exchange student Marinette Dupain-Cheng was almost kidnapped. Luckily, Gotham's Boy Wonder was there to rescue her."

A second voice, a male reporter, spoke with a tone that carried disdain. "She got lucky. Jason Wayne wasn't so lucky two years ago. Now Wayne brings in another kid, and this happens. Can you imagine being her parents, a sea away? I'd pull my kid back and sue Wayne if I were them."

Jason clicked the remote, muting the TV. His voice was softer now, his gaze fixed on her. "Dad spoke with your parents. They want you home, but ultimately, the decision is yours to make."

Marinette sat on the edge of the bed, her thoughts racing. The images of Adrien, herself, Tikki, Plagg, and Jason swirled in her mind. She met his eyes—blue, filled with the same mix of concern and determination that had always drawn her in. Despite everything, she could see it. Jason cared for her, in his own way. He had warned her. He understood, to some extent, the weight of fear and danger that she now carried with her every day.

But he didn't know the full truth. He didn't know she had once been Ladybug, that she had stood on the edge of the world and fought to protect it. She had faced danger, fought enemies, and sacrificed more than most could imagine. It wasn't that she couldn't face danger anymore—it was that, deep down, she didn't want to anymore. She was tired of fighting.

Staring at Jason in the news clip, her heart clenched. He was only a few years older than her, but his face showed a fire that she remembered from when she had been Ladybug. He had been through things—things that had changed him. And yet, he stood strong. If Jason Wayne, an adopted rich kid, could survive all of this, why couldn't she? Had she really become that weak?

Marinette shook her head, the thought too bitter to hold on to. "I'm not leaving," she declared, her voice steady.

Jason's eyes softened, a hint of hope in his gaze. "You're not?"

"No," she repeated. "I was promised two years of new beginnings. And I want them. I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am. This isn't Paris—the criminals and dangers here are different. But I'm stronger than I look." Her voice wavered slightly. "I understand I'm not safe. I've known that deep down, even before I came to Gotham. It's just... no one's ever admitted it to me before."

Jason blinked, processing her words. Then, he leaned forward slightly. "There's a lot I don't know about you, is there?"

Marinette sighed, then, to his surprise, rested her head on his shoulder. She let the silence stretch between them for a moment, just feeling the weight of everything they had shared. "There's a lot I don't know about you, either," she whispered. "Maybe one day, we'll know it all. Until then... I'm content."

Jason's arm, instinctively, went around her, pulling her closer. "I'm glad you're staying, Mari," he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken. Something she couldn't quite place.

As they sat there in the quiet of her room, the sounds of Gotham outside and the steady hum of the house around them, Marinette realized something. She may have come to Gotham searching for safety, for peace, but she had found something more—a connection, a feeling she hadn't known she needed until now. A bond that wasn't just built on shared danger, but on understanding. On knowing what it felt like to lose everything.

Maybe this was what she needed. Maybe the rest would come with time.

For now, she was content. And for the first time in days, maybe—just maybe—she believed she could find her way forward.

Chapter Text

Marinette walked the halls of Gotham Academy, her footsteps echoing as the weight of the stares settled on her shoulders. It wasn't the same as her first day here. Back then, people had whispered because she was a mystery—just a girl from Paris with a connection to Jason Wayne. Now, she was a headline, a name plastered across every news outlet, a victim in the public eye.

She could feel it. The weight of their gazes, the curiosity, the judgment. They saw her differently now. She wasn't just the girl close to Gotham's own rich kid. She was the girl who had almost been taken, the one saved by a superhero.

Jason trailed close behind her. He was protective, hovering in the background as if he expected her to fall apart at any moment. She wasn't sure whether that was his way of looking out for her or if he just couldn't trust Gotham enough to let her go.

She wouldn't break. At least, she hoped she wouldn't.

A group of students gathered near her locker, their hushed whispers piercing through the air. "Go ask her." One of them pushed a smaller, more timid-looking girl toward Marinette.

The girl took a hesitant step forward, stumbling slightly before standing face-to-face with her. "Can I help you?" Marinette asked, her tone harsher than she intended, but the annoyance gnawed at her.

"What was it like?" the girl asked, her voice wavering slightly. "To be saved by Robin?"

The entire hallway seemed to freeze, the air thick with expectation. Marinette's stomach churned. It wasn't every day someone was saved by a hero, but it was also the last thing she wanted to talk about.

"I mean, it's not every day you get saved by a hero," the girl continued, her eyes wide with awe.

The hushed whispers began to grow louder, and before Marinette could respond, another voice shouted, "Did you get his autograph?"

A girl chimed in, "Hopefully, she got a kiss!"

Marinette's cheeks burned, and she shot Jason a quick glance. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her protectively. "I think you should walk away," Jason said, his voice firm, addressing the growing group with a warning in his tone.

One of the younger students, a freshman by the looks of him, piped up from the back of the crowd, his voice full of challenge. "Come on, Wayne. We're just having fun. You can't keep your girlfriend locked away all the time."

Girlfriend? Marinette's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't Jason's girlfriend, but in that moment, what did it matter? They had an audience—an audience waiting for her to give them something, anything. If she didn't speak up now, Jason might end up in a confrontation he didn't deserve.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stand tall. "It was frightening," she said, her voice cutting through the room. "I don't speak to him, much less kiss Robin."

Jason's gaze flickered to her in surprise, but before he could react, Marinette took a step away from him, slamming her locker shut with more force than necessary. "Now, I suggest you all head to class. I'm done talking."

The silence that followed was thick with disbelief. But then a voice called out from behind her, whining, "Come on. You haven't even told us anything."

Marinette turned on her heel, a wicked smile forming on her lips. "I'll tell you something," she said sweetly, before stepping toward the whiny student.

With one swift motion, Marinette swept his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud. The students around her gasped, stepping back in alarm as the boy groaned, sprawled on the floor.

The hall fell silent, the tension thick and palpable.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the kid she had knocked over. "Now, that's something to remember," she said, her voice laced with amusement. She stepped over him without a second thought, turning back toward Jason. "Come on, Jay."

Jason blinked, his mouth slightly agape as he processed what had just happened. After a moment, he shrugged, a smirk forming on his face. "You really do know how to make an impression," he said, falling into step beside her.

As they walked away, the group of students scattered, leaving behind a trail of stunned whispers. Marinette didn't look back, but she knew they would be talking about this for weeks.

Jason and Marinette walked through the hallways, the tension easing between them as the chaos faded into the distance. She wasn't sure if she had handled it the right way, but for once, she didn't care. She had faced it head-on. Marinette supposed after the confrontation, she shouldn't have been surprised to find herself in the principal's office.

The room was stiff and formal, with the tall, imposing Mr. Ross standing behind his desk. Marinette sat in the chair across from him, hands folded tightly in her lap, her face expressionless. Bruce Wayne was seated beside her, radiating quiet authority. Yet the disappointment emanating from him felt almost fatherly, much like the kind she'd gotten from her own father back in Paris whenever she'd stepped out of line.

Mr. Ross sighed deeply, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. "You understand, Mr. Wayne, that this is a rather serious matter. Miss Dupain-Cheng attacked another student in the hallway." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

"I understand," Bruce replied evenly. "She's been through something traumatic recently, and while I'm not excusing her actions, I am asking for a bit of understanding."

The principal considered this, nodding slowly. "Yes, which is why I've decided on a two-day suspension, followed by a week of detention. This should be enough time for Miss Dupain-Cheng to reflect on her behavior and for the other students to feel reassured that such actions are not tolerated."

Bruce rose to his feet, extending his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Ross. Marinette and I will ensure this does not happen again."

"See to it," Mr. Ross said firmly, shaking Bruce's hand before dismissing them.

As they walked out of the office, Marinette kept her eyes downcast. She was grateful for Bruce's calm defense, but shame bubbled inside her, both from her actions and from the trouble she'd caused him.

Jason was waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall. As soon as he saw them, he pushed off with a smirk. "Well, what's the verdict? Are you being executed because some kid couldn't handle a little bruise?" he asked, his tone full of teasing amusement.

"Not now, son," Bruce said with a pointed look.

Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm not the one tripping people in the hallway."

Bruce sighed heavily as they headed down the hall, the tension in his shoulders betraying his weariness. "No, you're just the terrible influence."

"I'm offended," Jason said with exaggerated indignation, clutching his chest. "Truly, I am."

Marinette couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprising even herself. The weight in her chest lightened just a little. Jason grinned at her, giving her a quick wink.

"See? Not all bad," Jason said to Bruce as they exited the school.

Bruce merely shook his head, but Marinette caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It wasn't the best ending to the day, but as she slid into the car between Jason and Bruce, she realized it could have been worse. Much worse.

The car ride back to Wayne Manor was quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine.

Marinette sat in the backseat, staring out the window at Gotham's dim, grimy streets. Her reflection stared back at her, the image of someone trying hard not to let the weight of the day consume her. Jason was next to her, his head tilted back against the headrest as he scrolled through his phone. Bruce drove silently, his expression unreadable, though Marinette could feel the occasional glance he cast her way in the rearview mirror.

When they pulled into the manor's long driveway, Marinette slipped out of the car quickly, muttering a soft, "Thank you," before hurrying toward the house. She needed a moment alone to process everything—the whispers in the hallways, the confrontation, the suspension. It was all too much.

Jason caught up with her before she could escape up the grand staircase. "Hey," he said softly, grabbing her wrist gently. "You okay?"

She stopped, her back to him. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just—this isn't what I thought it would be, Jason. Gotham. The Academy. Everything."

Jason frowned, stepping around to face her. "Yeah, well, Gotham has a way of doing that to people," he said. "It's not exactly sunshine and rainbows here, Mari."

"I thought I could handle it," she said, meeting his eyes. "I thought—I've faced so much already, you know? But today, in the principal's office, I felt so... powerless."

Jason's brows furrowed. "You're not powerless."

"I feel like I am," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I feel like I've lost who I was. Back in Paris, I was—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter."

Jason tilted his head, studying her. "No, it does matter. Back in Paris, you were what?"

Marinette hesitated. She couldn't tell him the truth—not about Ladybug, not about the miraculous. But there was a part of her that wanted to. Jason had shared his own struggles, his own pain. Shouldn't she do the same?

"I was someone else," she said finally, her voice trembling. "Someone brave. Someone who didn't back down. But now... now I feel like I've forgotten how to be her."

Jason reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You haven't forgotten. She's still there, Marinette. You're still brave—you're just dealing with a lot right now. It's okay to feel lost."

His words struck a chord deep within her, and she nodded, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. "Thanks, Jason," she said softly.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice warm and steady. "Now come on, Alfred's probably got something good cooking in the kitchen. And trust me, nothing fixes a bad day like one of his pies."

A small smile tugged at Marinette's lips as she followed him toward the kitchen.