"We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves."
― François de La Rochefoucauld
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I.
Discovering the identity of Ladybug – his partner, ally, and recipient of excellent and sometimes not-so-excellent puns - turns out to be as simple as being in the right place at the right time...if you are Chat Noir. If you are Ladybug, or, as it turns out, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, it is probably more of the wrong-place-wrong-time situation.
In the end, she is not as well-hidden as expected, or perhaps great minds think alike. The flash of her de-transformation catches his eye as he rounds into the same darkened, narrow side street as his partner. The quick red light burns though his eyes and set his cat-like tendencies to life. Reflexively, he pounces back into the safety of the shadows, black into black. The hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. His green eyes widen and adjust.
She doesn't quite see him as her Miraculous gives out. In a rush of red and undoing, Ladybug's most carefully kept secret is given away. She looks left and right, assured of her safe transition from superhero to civilian. She steps out into the street, into the warm light of mid-afternoon Paris. As soon as she is there, she is gone. Ladybug...Marinette.
To say the least, Chat Noir is stunned. Silent and slack-jawed, he hardly notes the beeping of his own Miraculous. As his own transformation releases, Plagg and Adrien are left in its place. The former of whom does not look at all surprised by the newly revealed identity of Ladybug. All Adrien can read of Plagg is a weary resignation, as though he is imagining all the ways his cheese-filled life has just been upended.
"You knew?" It comes out as an accusation, which, technically, it is.
Plagg folds his arms together, turning away, to say, "You sit behind her every day. The universe gave you enough hints, kid."
And what can he say to that, the understatement of the century?
The revelation shocks him into silence all the rest of the day. He isn't happy with Plagg, but after a lifetime with Gabriel Agreste, he can't hold a grudge. It's better to forgive than to go on in silence; Adrien has enough of that in his life. He can't stand it from Plagg too.
As the surprise fades through the week, Adrien begins to fit the pieces together, as incongruent as they seem. Strange and unreal as the revelation has been, he reviews every crumb of knowledge of Ladybug and Marinette he has. A thousand details — absences, appearances, gestures — click into place. Of course Marinette would need to make quick exits and re-appear conveniently (sometimes beyond rational explanation) after an akuma attack. He knows all too well the balancing act it takes to be a student and one-half of Paris's superhero duo.
There are also clues in her personality; parallels that make him feel like an idiot for never even considering the possibility. A boldness that sometimes surprised. A sense of fairness and justice. A sharp intelligence; a fire, a spark. If he thinks about the two of them side by side, the differences seem less and less pronounced. He can see how both identities, Ladybug and Marinette, blend together to create one person. As Marinette, those details never added up. As Ladybug, they make perfect sense, transforming two halves of a girl into perfect clarity. Two pieces made whole.
Ladybug and Marinette. Marinette and Ladybug.
The two identities, initially so different, gradually begin to seem so complimentary and right. Until there is no Ladybug, no daring and brave partner whose presence gnaws and chafes with its mystery. All that is left is Marinette. Brave and nice and perfect. An ordinary girl with an extraordinary secret. More than that, she is real. So real, it takes his breath away, destroying every pedestal he had ever built for his partner to stand upon.
It makes it easier to believe he can be both Adrien and Chat Noir, just a little. Marinette and Ladybug did seem different from one another, unstudied. Yet, the more he weighs the truth, the more he understands the duality of Marinette. The more it seems like she can be his friend and his partner. How being one does not necessitate she is not the other. It doesn't mean she is living half of her life as a lie.
Chat and Adrien could not be more dissimilar. One, polished and polite, the perfect, quiet child Gabriel Agreste expected. The other...everything Adrien Agreste wasn't. But maybe the good parts of Chat are the good parts of Adrien too.
It makes him want to tell her everything, to thank her for being Marinette and Ladybug and giving him this new understanding of himself. For being in his life, as his partner and his friend. For finding him. For having his back, in and out of their suits. He wants to shout from every rooftop they race across, whether fighting an akuma or teaming up for weekly patrols.
But...he doesn't. Above everything, Ladybug values the division between her life as superhero and civilian; her church and state, independent of one another at all costs. She deserves it too — her identity, her personal space, her secrets. The chance to share her identity on her own terms, if ever.
Adrien doesn't want Ladybug or Mariette like this, without her will, without her consent. He wants her when she's ready to breach her divide. When she decides to remove her mask, in more ways than one.
She is worth the wait.
