Dear Marinette,

This letter is a mess, but it's the twelfth time I've tried to write this, so I'll ask you to indulge me. My therapist asked me to write this letter to you. Actually, she's been asking me to do it for the last few months, but I wasn't ready to do so before now. And now I am, or I think I am, so I suppose I should get on with it.

First off, yes, I've been in therapy. I have been for a while now. I started about a month after the Anti-bug incident. I don't know if you have ever talked to any of the akuma victims in our class –I think you're one of the only people in our class who hasn't been turned, which says volumes about your patience with me -about their time as akuma. When a victim comes out of the akuma state, they don't remember much. No, the memories come later, in your dreams, hazy nightmare images of you selling a piece of your soul. Mylène has it pretty bad, and Sabrina – well, she was the one that suggested to me that I should get into therapy, because it helped her. And yes, mlle. class president, I have her permission to tell you that. So I'm not betraying her trust, or anything like that. Yes, we covered that kind of thing in my therapy too.

The point is that when I began to remember my time as an akuma…

Look, this is really hard, so I have to talk around it a bit, to give you a bit of background. I was angry a lot, then. I was angry at my father, at you, at school. I was angry at the whole damn world, for the things that were out of my control that I most wanted to be able to control. I was angry at my mother, I wanted her to give a damn about me as something other than some kind of walking parenting trophy. 'Look, I had a child, now I can check that box off, and I can gallivant around the world while leaving her with her father and a building full of domestics'. I was angry at Ladybug for being better than I could ever hope to be, even as I loved her for how amazing she was. I was angry with myself, at some of the things I did, but I didn't know how to face that, or even admit to it. So when Papillion spoke to me, I was all up for it.

And the result terrified me.

Because Anti-bug Chloé was just Chloé Bourgeios with the power to do something about her anger. About her rage, and her spite, and her self-loathing. Ladybug was the catalyst for that rage, but it would have happened sooner or later. Okay, the anger at Ladybug was unusual, and perhaps the only thing of Anti-bug that was different from normal Chloé. Chloé opened her eyes to the kind of person she had become, that was nearly indistinguishable from an akuma.

I really shouldn't talk about myself in the third person.

I had a breakdown. Thankfully, it was in front of Sabrina, and she helped me get through that, and asked me if I would consider seeing a therapist. I'm sure you can imagine my initial reaction. Damn if Sabrina didn't stand up to me, though. I was never as proud of her as I was then. She used every dirty trick I had ever taught her to badger, cajole, and push me into admitting that I needed to get help, without ever demanding it. She was amazing, and I wish you could have seen it, because it would have shown you that she's not the pushover that everyone seems to think she is.

So I went into therapy. And it took a little while before I was really comfortable talking about myself with the doctor. But after three or four sessions, the doctor gave me a diagnosis (bipolar, if you are wondering, but usually on the manic side of the scale) and suggested some medications. I'm sure you can imagine my reaction to that as well. My doctor took my arguments apart even better than Sabrina had (she might not have Sabrina's personal knowledge of me, but age and treachery served her quite well) and she convinced me that maybe, possibly, I should try this medication. It took a while before everything was right, but they help. A lot. They gave me control of my emotions in a way I didn't have before.

So it was a scared Chloé who was much more in control of her emotions that started to fix her life, and who wanted to be something other than a horrendous bitch to everyone she knew. I am trying to be nicer, but I'm still going to call a stupid thing stupid, and if someone asks my opinion, they are going to get the unvarnished truth. I'm trying not to give my opinion out unsolicited so much, and I'm trying not to be a mean-spirited bitch about it. I also know I won't succeed all the time. There are some crimes against fashion that cannot go unpunished.

I'm babbling.

I know that you're probably wondering if there is a point to all this, and there is one, I swear. There was a point in the last four drafts of this letter, too, but they were all worse than this one, if you can believe that. I was making too many excuses still, too many obfuscations, because I was embarrassed. And I'm awkward. I can deal with political dinners and high-society parties because no one ever says anything. Everyone just parrots the party line, no thinking needed. Especially from someone our age, they think we are too young to have any worthwhile thoughts anyway. I'm nothing more than an ornament, the child-shaped appendage necessary for a successful career in the upper reaches of politics. And if anyone thinks my daddy is going to stop at being the mayor of Paris, they are blind. But no one expects me to have anything worthwhile to say, so I just repeat the things I'm supposed to say, and it's easy. But actually talking to people? Holding a conversation with them, rather than just yell at them or insult them?

Ha. More babbling.

So we come back to you. Dear Marinette.

God this is hard.

I'm sorry. I have to say that first. Of all the people I have been awful to, you were the one I attacked the most. Because I felt threatened. Because you have a family that loves you and spends time with you, rather than a father who has no time for you and a mother that isn't even there. Because everyone loves you, and you don't even have to try, because you're genuine and kind and sweet. Because you caught Adrien's attention, when he was one of my only friends, and I was afraid he would leave me. Because you are pretty when you run into class ten minutes after you got out of bed, and are still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. (You do realize how unfair that is to the rest of woman-kind, don't you? You are setting impossibly high standards for fresh-faced prettiness). Because I wanted you to be MY friend, and ONLY my friend, but you loved everyone and could have never held yourself back that way. And because of all these stupid, childish reasons, I attacked you, and threatened you, and by the time I knew better I was locked into my petty, hateful, unthinking behaviors, and it took becoming an akuma to wake me up to what I had become. I am sorry, more sorry than there are words for. Because I don't hate you. Not at all.

Because I asdljkvb;klr/neakvb s;ldiwakjbhe;l

LFC LFC LFC

Chloé let out a shriek at her desk and wadded up the paper she was writing on, standing up and stomping over to the trash bin. She threw the balled up note at the bin and failed to note that it bounced off the edge and fell behind it. She turned to stomp back to her desk when she realized that she was, in fact, in the middle of class. And that Madame Bustier was staring right at her. The class was shocked when Chloé slapped herself in the face, cradling her face in her palm.

"I'm sorry, Madame," she said through her hand. Chloé apologizing brought even more shock. Yes, she had been nicer recently, much nicer in fact, but…Chloé doesn't apologize. Of course, usually she also doesn't shriek of her own accord in the middle of class, either.

Mme. Bustier eyed Chloé for a moment, then pointed the girl to her seat. While she normally would have sent Chloé down to see M. Damocles, the girl had apologized. A little positive reinforcement might encourage the behavior. And if it didn't, she could add it to the list of offenses if something happened later on. Chloé slinked back to her seat, murmuring 'Thank you' as she passed her teacher. She slid into the seat and tried her best to be invisible for the rest of the class. She was so embarrassed that she gathered her things and dashed out of the class as soon as the end bell rang.

Alya turned to her seat-mate Marinette as they watched. "What was that all about?"

Marinette shrugged and gave Alya an awkward smile. "I think Chloé had a me-moment," she replied wryly.

Alya laughed. "A burst of spontaneous awkwardness followed by maximum public embarrassment?"

"Al! Mean!" the blunette replied indignantly. "At least phrase it a little better! I'm not that…that…" her reply petered out and she sighed. "Okay, yes I am."

"Sorry, Mari," Alya replied, giggling. "You know I love you, but you have a talent like no other for public spectacle."

You have NO idea, Alya, Marinette thought as she gathered her things. "I'm going home for lunch, coming?"

Alya shook her head. "I have to mod the LadyBlog forum. There was an incipient flame war building and even though I warned the idiots, I'm sure someone will cross the line. Then I can ban-hammer the users and lock the thread, and get back to the proper work for the blog."

Marinette shook her head. "You need help, Alya," she told her friend.

"Talk about mean!" Alya replied back.

Marinette giggled. "I meant that you need actual help. Another person, or at least a moderator."

The taller girl frowned. "That would mean letting someone else work on the blog. I'm not sure I'm ready for that," she said honestly. "I mean, it's been my baby from the beginning. It's the most followed blog in the world about Ladybug and Chat Noir, and I'm just turning fifteen. Do you know how big that is? I want to hold onto it for as long as I can. I need the right person, if I'm going to give up exclusive control of the blog."

Marinette nodded. "I understand, Al, but don't let it get away from you," she warned. She waved as she went out the door, and Alya sat down at the desk she had just vacated. She pulled a wrapped muffin from her bag and nibbled on it while she acted as the voice of discipline and maturity on her forum, and then pulled up a search engine to see if there had been any new sightings while they were in class. There weren't any reports, which meant that she hadn't missed anything. She finished the muffin and then scrunched up the bag it was wrapped in. She walked over to the trash bin and tossed it it – or tried to. It bounced off the rim and fell behind the bin, and she sighed and pulled the bin forward so she could get her trash. She saw the balled-up stationary sitting next to the balled-up bag, and she absently threw her trash away as she picked up the wadded note.

This is Chloé's note, she thought. She wrestled with temptation. The girl didn't want anyone to read the note, obviously, but Alya was a budding journalist and she knew that trash was fair game when it came to investigative reporting. A touch on the shady side, perhaps, but still fair game. Besides, it was Chloé, so it was probably just a love note to Adrien that she misspelled a word on, or some such. Temptation won, and she smoothed the note out and began to read. Her eyes grew wide. And then they grew wider.

"Holy shit," she whispered. "Hoooooolyyyyyyy shit."

LFC LFC LFC

Alya was waiting by the entrance to Collège Françoise Dupont when Marinette returned, and she dragged her friend to an empty class. They only had a few minutes until the warning bell, but she had to talk to her friend.

"Alya? What's going on?" Marinette asked.

Alya ducked her head. "I-I found Chloé's note, the one she was writing in class, during lunch break. It had fallen behind the trash bin, and when I missed with my trash, I found it. And I read it, because I was curious. And now I feel like a really awful person, because I found out some secrets that aren't the kind that an ethical journalist would share, not about a 14-year-old girl."

"Alya!" Marinette scolded, as she looked around furtively. "You shouldn't have done that! What if she finds out? Why did you even read it?"

The redhead gave her friend an awkward look. "Because it was addressed to you…"

"Al!" Marinette wasn't quite sure what to think. It was Chloé, but she had been, if not nice, at least much less mean than she had been when they started college. She had also been less clingy and more genuine to Ladybug, and had only asked for a selfie once, and not after a fight with an akuma that she herself had caused. In fact, only one of the last eight akuma had been caused by Chloé, and the fact was that the man had almost spilled two hot lattes on Chloé, with only the Sabrina's quick reaction protecting her from a likely burn. The fact that her white shoes had been spattered with the coffee, and were probably ruined, had been what set the girl off, and even Marinette could understand why Chloé might have been a bit strident in her response to the man. The girl's tongue was still as sharp as ever, though, and quickly enough, the Caffeinator was attacking the streets of Paris. The blonde had even had the grace to look a little rueful after the akuma had been defeated, and Ladybug had complimented her on her growing awareness of others the next time they had crossed paths. Which made Alya's invasion of the girl's privacy all the more upsetting. Chloé was trying, and whatever secrets her friend had learned should have remained private. Marinette understood secrets. "What are you going to do?"

Alya shuddered. "I'm going to have to tell her. And apologize."

Marinette nodded. "I think that's the right thing to do."

"It's just really going to suck," her friend replied. The pair turned and left the room as the warning bell rang, and they slid into their seats with only a minute or so to spare. Classes resumed, but Alya couldn't pay attention to the lesson at all. She struggled through the rest of the day, and waved goodbye to Marinette, who had to babysit Manon again, and almost ran to Chloé's desk after the last bell rang. "Chloé," she said hesitantly, "can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?"

Chloé gave what Alya privately referred to as The Look. "Is it important, Césaire? My time is valuable, you know."

"Yes, I know," Alya replied. "It's important."

Chloé nodded, then turned to Sabrina. "I'll call you when I'm done, and we can meet in the library and find the books we need."

"Oh, I can do that!" Sabrina replied, but Chloé shook her head.

"I should do this," Chloé said. "I know what we need to say, but we also need actual references for this. I think I know a couple blogs we can get most of the data from, but some of the books we need to quote are too old to have any kind of online presence." She grinned wryly. "Besides, I know Adrien is in there, so I can kill two birds with one stone!" Sabrina giggled and ran off to put her things away in her locker. Chloé gestured, and Alya lead the blonde to the same classroom she had spoken to Marinette in. Alya closed the door, and then turned to Chloé.

"What's this about, then? I need my Adrien-watching time," Chloé told her.

"I – um – this was an accident. I wasn't trying to snoop, but you missed the trash bin, and I was curious, and I am so, so sorry," the redhead said in a rush as she handed over the stationary, now folded in half.

Chloé's nostrils flared, and fury flashed in her eyes. "You. Had. No. Right."

"I know," Alya responded. "I feel horrible."

"Good."

"I promise, I won't tell anyone," the taller girl replied. "I told Marinette I read it, and that it was addressed to her – which is why I read it in the first place – but I didn't tell her anything else about it. And I won't."

"You had better not!" Chloé told her. "I – I don't even have any words, right now, Césaire. And you should know what that means from me. I just can't believe…" She spluttered, and then her face shifted, anger replaced by fear, and she slumped. "Oh, god." She looked up, her face transformed into a mask of fear. "Please, please don't tell Marinette anything else. Not even by accident." Alya was shocked, she had never seen Chloé like this before. "I don't know how to face her yet, I'm trying, but everything I try to say just comes out as a mess. I babble. How do I babble when I write?"

"I'm…not sure?" Alya said. "For what it's worth, I respect the hell out of you. I'd even say I'm proud of you, but I doubt that that holds much coming from me right now."

Chloé snorted. "I'd say you're right, except…it does, in a way. You respect strong women more than anyone else. Ladybug, and Marinette. And Rena Rouge. To be counted in some way with that kind of company…there are worse things."

"You think Marinette is strong?" Alya asked.

"She's stood up to me," the blonde replied. "No one else has the nerve to do so, not really. She just doesn't care. I can anger her, but she comes back even stronger. She's always right, and she proves it in the end. She made me face myself. And she does it almost completely on her own. You jelp her, but you fiold on your own. Adrien prevaricates. Marinette just spits in my eye and proves she's better than me in every way." She sighed. "She's amazing, she's awesome, she's powerful."

Alya thought about this for a moment. "Do you – do you like Marinette?"Chloé's eyes went wide before she could control herself, and Alya let out a little gasp. "You do!"

"I swear to god, Césaire, Not. A. Word."

"But what about Adrien?" the blogger asked.

Chloé sighed. "I had to think a lot about this," she replied, "to learn about myself. Half my school life seems to revolve around verbally sparring with Marinette. The doctor and I spend a lot of time on the subject. Why I disliked her, why we fought – and I realized that I wanted her attention. Even bad attention is better than no attention, you know? We were set in our roles, and I kind of despaired about ever getting free from it. I had nightmares for a long time, even before Anti-bug. Of being ignored. Ignored by everyone, but especially Marinette. That I wasn't worth the time to even dislike. I shout out about how great I am, so that no one can ever ignore me." She shuddered. "And then there were the other dreams."

"Other dreams?" Alya asked.

"Other dreams. Not bad ones. Good ones. Very very good ones," Chloé finished with a blush.

Alya caught her meaning all at once, and her eyes went wide. "Really?"

Chloé blushed more. "Really."

Alya hummed. "Why are you telling me this?"

Chloé sighed. "I'm not sure. Because I can. Because I need to. I think I just needed someone to talk to, someone who isn't on my side. You're Marinette's best friend, you are most definitely not on my side." She sighed again. "Besides, she's hung up on Adrien. And even if she did like girls, she most definitely wouldn't like me."

The redhead shrugged. "That, I can't tell you. I know that she has wished for a long time that the two of you didn't fight like you do. I couldn't tell you why, though. I think that she doesn't like that she feels so negatively about you. Marinette isn't a person who hates by her nature. She wants to believe the best of everyone. You just make it really hard, sometimes."

"I know."

"She doesn't hate you, though, she does have sketches of dresses and jackets that she's designed for you. Whenever she designs something yellow, it ends up being designed for you. And she's shown them to Adrien, and Nathaniel, and Jagged Stone…"

"Seriously? Jagged Stone?"

"He was looking for something for his sister, and she has a similar coloring to you," Alya replied. "It's not a secret or anything." Alya hung her head. "Secrets. God. I feel like such a horrible person now. I shouldn't know any secrets, ever. God forbid I ever find out who Ladybug actually is."

"You'll keep my secrets though, won't you?"

Alya looked wary. "I know you're trying to be a better person, so I hate asking this, but you have a history…you won't threaten my Mom's job over this, will you?"

Chloé looked horrified. "Of course not! God, was I really that much of a bitch?" She thought about it for a moment, then sighed again. "Yeah, I was, wasn't I. How did anyone even stand me?"

"Because some of us know deep down that you aren't that shallow and horrible? I mean, Ladybug told me in an interview about your Ladybug roleplaying…"

"Oh good lord," Chloé said. "Really?" She hung her head. "Can today get any more embarrassing?"

Alya laughed. "Do you really want to tempt fate by asking that?"

"Shit," the blonde said. There was really nothing else to say to that.

LFC LFC LFC

Marinette waved to Mme. Chamack and Manon after walking the energetic girl back home, sighing with relief. Manon was cute, but she had more energy than Alya at her most manic. She walked down the street, waving at Juleka and Rose as she passed them, Juleka sipping at a coffee, and Rose hanging off of the taller girl's free arm. The blonde giggled at something Juleka said, and waved back at Marinette, standing on her tiptoes to whisper something to her girlfriend, which had the black-haired girl looking back at Marinette momentarily, before she shook her head and pulled Rose along.

Marinette's stomach growled, and she frowned. The worst thing about being Ladybug was that she was always hungry. Tikki assured her that as her body optimized that she would eat less, but she had yet to see it. She wasn't even sure what that really meant. She liked her body as it was, darn it. She thought she might have gotten a bit taller, though, and she had needed to go shopping for new lingerie, but she didn't think that had anything to do with being a better Ladybug. Her waist was a touch thinner too, and her legs looked amazing, with just enough softness left to hide the taut muscle beneath. So maybe Tikki was right. But she could do without wanting to eat on the hour, every hour. She passed a street vendor selling kebob, and decided she could spare a few francs of her pay from the night's babysitting. She sat on a bench and quickly ate the meat and flatbread, licking her fingers clean as she stood and resumed her trek home. She was turning the last corner before home when her phone buzzed, and saw the text from Alya.

Mlle. Ladyblog: I apologized to Chloé. It wasn't as bad as i thought

Bakery Klutz: I see she let you live

Mlle. Ladyblog: She did. It was not what i expected at all. But i made a promise not to tell anyone what we talked about. After invading her privacy like i did, i owe her that much

Bakery Klutz: I understand. I'm proud that you're taking it seriously, even if it is Chloé

Mlle. Ladyblog: I think that i understand her a little better now.

Mlle. Ladyblog: I still don't like your nickname on here

Bakery Klutz: Well I made it a day after I completely demolished three trays of croissants and now i'm not changing it because it reminds me to be more careful

Mlle. Ladyblog: I think it makes you look silly

Bakery Klutz: You do know you are talking to marinette, right?

Mlle. Ladyblog: Fine fine, I get it. So how was manon tonight?

Bakery Klutz: She reminded me once again why i never want children

Bakery Klutz: I swear mme. chamack gives her coffee and sugar before dropping her off

Mlle. Ladyblog: I don't think that manon would actually drink coffee

Bakery Klutz: An energy drink?

Mlle. Ladyblog: No, because the city isn't burning.

Mlle. Ladyblog: So any progress with adrien? I was distracted after lunch

Bakery Klutz: I noticed that, you were staring at Chloé all afternoon

Mlle Ladyblog: BECAUSE I FELT AWFUL

Bakery Girl: I'm kidding, i'm kidding. She's not your type

Mlle Ladyblog: And why do you say that?

Bakery Klutz: Because she doesn't wear red with black spots

Mlle Ladyblog: Asfdlihe don't even. I am not crushing on ladybug. I admire her. Just because i said her ass looks even more amazing recently does not mean that i want her body. Her butt and her legs together look like the platonic ideal of the same

Bakery Klutz: The what now?

Mlle Ladyblog: Look it up. Use your words, mari

Bakery Klutz: Not all of us want to be reporters when we grow up, or run a famous blog, thank you

Mlle Ladyblog: Fear my vast vocabulary

Bakery Klutz: I don't understand enough of your vocabulary to fear it

Mlle. Ladyblog: You are not that dumb, mari

Bakery Klutz: Not saying that, just saying me words no goodly. Look at what happens when i try to talk to adrien

Mlle. Ladyblog: I don't think that has anything to do with your vocabulary, dear

Bakery Klutz: I'll use any excuse i can get

Mlle. Ladyblog: Chloé has a nice ass too. Not ladybug good, but then what is

Bakery Klutz: !

Bakery Klutz: Why are you looking at Chloé's butt alya?

Mlle. Ladyblog: Because I am an expert on all things booty related and i have failed in my duties to properly appraise all the butts in our class by not considering Chloé's butt. It ranks just below yours

Bakery Klutz: Alya you are lucky that i love you, butt stop looking at my ass

Mlle. Ladyblog: You are absolutely no fun

Mlle. Ladyblog: So tell me, why are you standing outside the bakery texting when you could be inside the bakery and talking to me face to face? Also did you mean to make a butt pun?

Bakery Klutz: Asdlkjabliu=

Bakery Klutz: And no

Bakery Klutz: Shut up i'm coming inside now. Kill me please

Mlle Ladyblog: Before or after dinner?

Bakery Klutz: After please i am hollow

Bakery Klutz: Now i am thinking about Chloé's ass what is wrong with you why would you do that to me?

Mlle. Ladyblog: Because it's funny

Bakery Klutz: Mean. So mean.

Mlle. Ladyblog: COME INSIDE ALREADY YOU ARE RIDICULOUS

Bakery Klutz: K

LFC LFC LFC

Chloé sat at her desk in her suite, tapping on the surface with her pen. She had apologized to Sabrina, but she was going to be useless at studying. Alya had given her some advice, and some encouragement. And not even five minutes ago had sent her a candid pic of Marinette, her hair up in a bun, in an oversized t-shirt that Chloé thought was one of the charity Ladybug shirts from that event two months ago, and really really short running shorts and oh good god those legs. It wasn't a salacious picture at all, coming from a side angle, but that just put the long line of her legs on full display. They looked miles long, and as if they were carved in marble. Marinette was on her tiptoes, pulling down a bin full of fabric from the top of a stack of them, and her calves were flexed and oh good god. It wasn't suggestive, but it was most assuredly sexy. Possibly the sexiest non-ladybug thing she had ever seen.

Chloé had never looked at Marinette's bare legs with the intent to look. Now she couldn't stop. And she just knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself when she saw the girl at college tomorrow. Alya was just mean. This must be revenge for all the things she had ever done to the girl. Her phone buzzed again.

Mlle. Ladyblog: I told you her legs were amazing

Ladybugsno1fan: Shutup Alya

Mlle. Ladyblog: Youre welcome

Ladybugsno1fan: Please die now thx

Ladybugsno1fan: I already died

Ladybugsno1fan: Good god. What kind of workout is she doing

Mlle. Ladyblog: If i knew i would be doing it too

Mlle. Ladyblog: I gtg mari is making me a ladybug kigurumi and she needs to fit me because she doesn't usually do baggy clothes like this

Ladybugsno1fan: Jealous do you think she would make me one

Mlle. Ladyblog: You could always ask?

Mlle. Ladyblog: Going now ttyl

Chloé sighed. She was going to get absolutely no sleep tonight, not with that image burned into her brain. She might as well try again.

Dear Marinette