Chapter 1: Lontano - As from a distance
It is the kiss of a salty sea breeze that makes Ladybug ease her sprinting gait into a slow walk, high above the city's rooftops. The summer's night is feverish, humid and sticky as sweat gathers in her hair, beading down her exposed neck. With arms wide, she opens her chest and lifts her heart to sky, basking in the zephyr's sweet reprieve hours after sunset. If she closes her eyes, she thinks, in this moment her duty doesn't feel so vast. For if she can't see, she's the only one in the world. But even as she inches towards the edge of the rooftop, she can't hold back the pride that sweeps through and makes her heart fill to the brim with affection as she looks over the city she guards.
Beneath her is Paris, and she can hear the happy chatter of citizens as they walk along a promenade, bags in their hands and cheer in their hearts. Picturesque street lights glow like small suns, creating a shield of light from the night's darkness. From where she stands, she overlooks her home, counting the streets and avenues, her eyes scanning at each loved landmark, each humble home.
This is what I live for now.
With one more deep breath, she settles with a smile on the ledge, dangling her feet tens of stories above the ground without a care in the world. In the next moment, there is a pink flash and as if the clock struck midnight, she loses her mask and turns back into a regular girl. Gone is the bright red spandex with spotted black polka dots and in its place is a simple white shirt and pink jeans.
A little creature nuzzles up to her in greeting, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "It's not safe for you to be up so high, Marinette."
Marinette smiles and fishes some chocolate chip cookies out from her bag, munching on one and offering the other. "If I do fall, you'll be there to catch me, Tikki."
The little red speckled kwami clicks her tongue and rests on the girl's shoulder. "And if I'm not?"
Marinette hums, letting the question hang in the air as they gaze at the Parisian skyline, caught up in a world where those what-ifs carry no meaning. Up so high, with just Tikki resting on her shoulder, there is nothing she feels she can't do. Together they are Ladybug; who is not only one, but two.
"We'll figure it out when the times comes," she simply says, her eyes drifting home towards the Notre Dame, its bells chiming in the distance. But as the bells toll, Marinette grips the concrete roof, the grit digging into her palms.
If we are one who is two, then where is the other half of me?
With a sigh, she lays back, the rooftop wonderfully cool through her cotton shirt as she watches planes flicker in the sky. Lyrics to an American song ring in her mind.
"Wasn't he supposed to be with me?" she whispers, her words clinging to the breeze, haunting and low as the gale goes by.
But Tikki hears her.
Her kwami lets out a puff of air, her cute little cheeks going flat. Resting on Marinette's stomach, her big black eyes soften as she pats her charge.
"Sometimes fate is funny and we don't always meet."
Marinette doesn't take her eyes off the dark velvet sky, no stars to be seen due to all the lights in the capital.
"I hope it's having a good laugh at least."
Sleep clings thickly to her tired blue eyes as she tugs on some running clothes and shoes. Before exiting her room, she tucks Tikki under a tiny sheet and heads down the stairs. Her steps are clunky as she thuds down the wooden steps and Marinette can hear her mother calling for her to eat some breakfast. However, she throws a quick smile over shoulder and opens the front door, stepping onto the cool cobblestone street. Leaving the bakery behind her, Marinette is greeted by a bright sun whose heat is not able to caress her cheeks just yet.
With one final stretch against the family's store, Marinette empties her mind and begins to jog. She wants to run, to make her lungs work hard, where each breath means something. It is the only thing that reminds her she's human, and not a superhero carrying a city on her small shoulders. Her steps are even as she gains momentum, the trail etched into her mind like a map while she makes her way down La Seine to run on the left bank express sidewalk. The mist from the river cools her, the water calming while she accelerates forward.
One foot in front of the other, never go back.
As she runs by pedestrians, happy to enjoy a break from the summer's cruel heat, Marinette's mind goes over her mental list of the day: 1) help out in the bakery, 2) babysit Manon for two hours, 3) see Alya for smoothies, 4) work on designs, 5) spend time with her parents, 6) patrol. It's methodic, an easy to follow list, planned from the moment she wakes till the moment she sleeps. Just as it has to be so that she can keep everything on track between being a good daughter, a best friend, and a superhero all on her own.
Today she's indulgent, treating herself to friendly human interaction and distractions from her other life. She just needs to complete this run and she's one more step closer to her goal, one more second to being stronger. She realizes that she's making better time today when she sees the Pont de l'Alma, the bridge to crossing La Seine, jogging the stairs two at a time. She laughs to herself, knowing that if she was Ladybug right now, she could pass this in the blink of the eye. Turning right onto Avenue de New York, she lets the thought spur her on, encouraging her that anything her alter ego can do, she can do too. But when the Eiffel Tower comes into view, for a brief second t her heart twists, wishing she had someone there with her to share the lovely scene.
If only there was a boy–
Stop that!
The tower is looming closer to her left as she sprints, her stride elongating as she pushes forward. Leave it all behind, leave everything behind, Marinette tells herself. One by one, she lets go her responsibilities, her obligations to everyone but herself. All you need to do is run, run to keep these people safe!
Her lungs are burning, her breathing heavy as she heads towards the intersection of Port Debilly and Pont d'Iéna. She just needs to make it to that point at the start of the bridge so that she can cool down, so close to finishing her run. The air is thick, clouded by car emissions as she passes the tunnel, but can't give up, not now.
With one final push, she enters that runner's high and goes even faster, her legs gliding on the ground as she sees the the statue of some Greek hero beside a horse. (She can never remember which one it is, but he's naked and that's a good enough landmark for her.) The crosswalk is empty and there are no cars so Marinette books it across the way and skids to a stop so she can catch herself on the half stone wall overlooking La Seine.
Her heart is drumming in her chest and she feels like she's going to throw up as she rests her head on the cool stone, but she's here now at her destination. Checking her watch, she notices she's done better today, running six kilometers in forty-seven minutes and seven seconds, cutting off two minutes of time since the prior week. Her bones feel like jelly and she wishes she had listened to her mother about eating breakfast, but nothing can dampen her mood–she feels like she's on cloud nine.
The tower is ethereal and gorgeous; not necessarily its architecture, but mainly what it means to her. Love echoes in her mind, but instead of swatting the want away, she tucks it into a broken fissure of her heart, not yet sealed by superhero concrete. With a few swallowed breaths, she lifts her arms over her head, letting her lungs breathe better and stares out to the blue river in front of her.
"Today's a good day," she murmurs to herself, her smile bright as she feels her hair plastered to her forehead and her clothes sticking to her back.
After rolling the bones in her neck and spine, she lingers a little longer to gaze at the water, wanting to just drift along with its current and be a normal kid for a day. With one elbow propped on the wall, boats go along the river at a snail's pace, the tourists on the decks snapping pictures of Paris as keepsakes.
Time pleasantly goes forward, relaxing and quiet, while she stands there, soaking up the rays. The sun is closer to mid-morning, angled just right when its beams make the water glisten and gleam, like sparkling diamonds in an undiscovered mine. A light bulb goes off and eureka is on the tip of her tongue before Marinette tosses her head back, groaning. In her mind, she can see the most perfect dazzling gown, three quarter sleeves and floor length, the shoulders and collar drowning in clear gems before slowly receding to reveal matte royal blue fabric down the bodice and skirt. However, to her dismay, her sketchbook is at home. Yet it is the splash that catches her off guard, snapping her head back to attention and peering over the stone ledge to see what's down there.
For a moment, she thought maybe a child dropped something in the river, but no parent's voice scolds and there is no baby's cry. As she's about to chalk it up to nothing, turning only a degree away, she hears something break the water's surface, the tension shattered. She whips back, leaning over the ledge again as she studies the water and to her surprise, it's a tailfin.
Wispy and whimsical, a large translucent black fin pops out of the water only to dive back in, dark black scales with a chartreuse sheen disappear under the surface again. With bated breath, she waits, hoping that whatever it was, it will come up once more for her to get a better look, but the seconds tick by into minutes and nothing happens.
Shaking her head, Marinette pushes back and beelines towards the bus stop, tired and ready for a shower. With a little stretch, she absentmindedly wonders what type of fish that was in La Seine, but she shakes her head at thought, trying not to giggle.
Truly, she must be seeing things. What creature would want to live in La Seine?
"So, I think I saw like a dolphin in the river today," Marinette tells her best friend when she sits down. As an afterthought, she amends, "Okay, more like a really big fish!"
Alya furrows her brows together before breaking out into laughter and drops into her seat. "Was this before or after your run?"
Marinette bites her bottom lip and sheepishly squeaks, "…After…"
But her friend only gives her a small smile, resting her chin atop laced fingers while leaning forward. "I don't know why you're doing these long runs, Mari. You're already skinny."
Marinette turns her attention away from her friend, Alya's brown eyes too seeking for the truth. Instead, she decides to focus on a blond haired boy outside, his locks in a pompadour fade. "He's cute, huh?"
Her reaction reminds her of a recent conversation she's had with her parents the other night after dinner when they interrupted her from washing the dishes. Papa's massive hand was still warm on the small of her back, her mother's fingers gentle as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. They both wore matching smiles, small and hesitant, with concern filling their eyes.
She wondered if her father could feel the way her heart pounded in her chest, feel each beat reverberate down every disc. He only lingered for a moment longer and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before taking his leave. Her mother, on the other hand, stayed and picked up a dish towel while Marinette dipped her hands in the dirty dish water on one side and ran clear water on the other. They didn't say much, the only sound between them being the spraying of water as it splooshed and splashed.
"You don't have to talk about it now, you know", Sabine said, giving her daughter a playful hip bump. "But one day, your father and I want to know what's making you so distant."
Marinette couldn't say anything meaningful, suturing the desire to tell the truth, burning it so that it could never open.
Tears burned her eyes when she could only breathe her thanks.
The plastic on Alya's chair creaks as she leans back, trying to get a better view of Marinette's line of sight, that jerks her back to the present. Alya lets out an appreciative hum, followed by a scandalized chuckle as she lightly pushes Marinette's arm. "You should go say hi!"
Marinette laughs, swinging around in her seat and hunches over the small table for two, the surface sleek with a glossy paint and sputters, "I can't–I can't just go talk to him!"
Alya reaches over and pats her cheek as if she was a small child. "But you can run six kilometers like it's nobody's business?"
Marinette crashes her head on the table and plays with Alya's purse, the beat up bag fraying on the sides due to all the abuse. She doesn't say anything but lets out a heavy breath, wishing for a moment that he was here–whoever that meant.
Though, Marinette whines while sitting back up, and slumps in her chair. "It's kinda hard to explain–" she starts. She glances up at Alya for a quick second, her friend giving her full attention. After a few more seconds of careful consideration, she settles on what she thinks is closest to the truth. With a small grunt, she heaves, "I just want to be like Ladybug, okay?"
Alya sucks in a huge breath of air, an awkward smile plastered to her face as she bobs her head. Both girls stare at each other, neither saying anything and Marinette feels like dying because this is Alya–Ladybug's most devoted fan–and she just told her what she can of the truth. And bless Alya, Marinette thinks, as her best friend tries not to laugh at her confession, to take her words seriously, but with every added head bobble, she just wants to curl up in a ball and never see the light of day again.
However, her best friend takes pity on her and clasps their hands together, the touch cool, but making her hopeful. Glancing up, Alya isn't sneering or teasing, but the edges of her mouth quirked upward before pressing a few kisses to their fingertips. "Stop being so cute!" she laughs, a smiling lighting up her face. "Oh, Marinette–you're like Ladybug in so many ways," she confesses.
At her friend's words, Marinette feels her face redden and swallows thick, but Alya continues, "You are already so kind, caring, selfless, and such a good person, but–" she pauses, her grip getting tighter as she stares at her right in the eye, her smile never waning, "If you truly want to get fit like my favorite lady, I guess I can support you and your stupid face!"
Though Marinette's face is flushed pink, the coil around her heart lessens slightly, feeling lighter than it has in a while. She leaves her own friendly kiss on Alya's hands and drags them both to their feet, hooking an arm around Alya's waist.
Her best friend leans her head on Marinette's shoulder while the two girls go towards the counter. Marinette hums, affectionately rubbing her friend's side. "So, your drink is on me," she declares.
To that, there's a pinch at her side and Alya replies, "As long as your drink is on me."
And for the first time in a long while, being Ladybug and Marinette doesn't feel so awful.
Correction: being both Ladybug and Marinette is always awful.
Case in point being now, as both Marinette and Alya are lost in a conversation, laughing and giggling over things trivial things, when thick strands of red hair slither down the street at breakneck speed, tangling citizens in its wake. A cord of hair breaks the glass and on instinct, Marinette covers Alya from the blow, glass shards only grazing the back of her blazer and arms. But there is no time to wander, to check if her friend hit her head a little too hard as Marinette grabs her by the hand and rushes them out the street.
Alya is digging in her pocket, trying to grab hold of her phone as Marinette tugs her forward, leading them down an alleyway where the foot traffic is less hectic.
"Stay here," she orders, holding a firm grip on Alya's shoulders.
Alya breaks out of the hold though, her face twisting as she shouts. "You are not going back out there!"
But Marinette only shakes her head, holding her friend in a tight hug. It is through quick calculations that she decides to push her friend down, stopping her from getting up for a few moments. Her voice echoes off the walls when she charges forward. "Ladybug isn't here yet and I can doing something!"
She hears Alya call after her, screaming at the top of her lungs for her to come back, but Marinette ducks into a broken shop, shoving past people right and left for a place to transform. Quickly, she opens her purse and Tikki flies out, her round eyes going wide as she takes in the damage.
"Now, now Tikki! Let's go!" Marinette urges, the screaming gaining in intensity as more people get caught up in the destruction.
Her kwami nods and like the fairy godmother's spell, Marinette becomes Ladybug once again.
Ancient power surges through, lighting her veins like fire and making her feel new. It's only a split second, but that taste of power is incredible on her tongue, making her believe that as Ladybug, she can really do anything.
That's why Ladybugs are so lucky afterall.
Cladded in familiar red spandex, Ladybug wastes no time heading back into the street, searching for the latest akuma victim. In a matter of seconds, she scales up a building to survey the damages on the street below, swearing under her breath at the sight of so many people already trapped in various knots.
She hears her alter ego's name being called and lets out a sigh of relief as Alya waves at her, one arm going wild as she holds on to her camera phone. At least, Alya stayed put like she was ordered, but that does not make the job any easier, not when her best friend makes it a habit to be apart of the thick of things.
Yet it is the sound of scissors snipping and evil cackling that draws her towards a large fountain, directing her where she needs to go. As she runs, this time much easier with no burn in her chest, she flies as though little wings have sprouted from her back, carrying her off the ground with ease. She wishes she had time to stop and free people from their cages as they flail helplessly in the air, but though she's done it alone, experience has taught her that purifying the black butterfly will be much easier.
For the second time that day, almost eight hours apart, Ladybug skids to a stop, her hand to swing her yo-yo at a moment's notice. Before her, she is greeted by a mad hairdresser, the strands of snake like hair coming from her head and she wields a large pair of scissors.
"What such pretty hair you have for Rapunzel," the villain coos, combing long nails through that cute boy from earlier's hair. "Don't fret, love. I'm only going to take off a lot!"
Ladybug rears back her yo-yo, letting it zip through the air and smacks the scissors out of the hairdresser's hands. The boy graciously clutches his hair as he runs away, thanking his lucky stars that his pompadour received no collateral damage. Rapunzel spins to Ladybug, her hair fanning around her like a protective shield, hissing all the while.
"People like to choose their own haircuts," Ladybug quips, a smirk gracing her face. She's been trying to work on her superhero slang, but quickly learned that she's not really one to make puns in all the commotion.
Around her, she hears citizens cheer her name, giving her courage to face her latest foe head on and unafraid. She's Ladybug, a person not made of one soul, but two.
Rapunzel's face contorts in fury, a scream viciously tearing out of her as she lunges towards the superhero. Yet Ladybug is faster, just like she has always been, and skips out of the way in time. Though one of the hairdresser's snake missed, the impact from the blow crushed the concrete to dust.
"Give me your stone, Ladybug, and I might give you this cut on the house!"
Ladybug tries not to roll her eyes, already used to their objective as she dodges hair that tries to encircle her feet and catch her off guard. Internally, she boils at the thought that once again people only get hurt because she has a power she didn't ask for. Landing on a sturdy tree branch, she hurries to summon a Lucky Charm, knowing that the next few minutes are the only ones that matter now.
A circular solid metal object lands into her hands and the familiar sense of panic settles into her as she wonders what she's going to do with it.
"Merde," she curses under her breath.
There! she hears Tikki shout and Marinette turns her attention to follow a large stone. Then it all clicks into place at record speed, her eyes darting to a fire hydrant not too far away and landing directly to the trashcan lid in her hands.
Tucking the lid under her arm, she springs forward, ignoring the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' of a growing crowd watching her escapades. But Rapunzel is relentless, refusing to give up as she whips her locks around, trying to sweep the hero off her feet. The timer on her stone blinks once; now only four more dots remain as Ladybug lifts a large slab of concrete and tosses it at the sole fire hydrant.
The trashcan lid clatters to the ground and Ladybug scampers to pick it up, hoping she's fast enough this time to get to where she needs to be. Her earring beeps again, only leaving her with three more circles, and a bitter part of her can't help but think how badly she could use a Black Cat this time around.
Not like he'll ever come for me.
Yet Ladybug is Ladybug, and luck is always in her favor as she dances and twirls right behind the shooting water. In a flash, she's angling the trashcan over the spray, wetting all of Rapunzel's hair and making it too heavy to move.
This part, like always, blurs together as she cracks a comb she finds on Rapunzel's vest and releases the black butterfly. She whirls her yo-yo and reels the butterfly into the inner compartment, knowing somehow through magic she doesn't understand, that all will be well.
"Bye bye little butterfly," she utters, relief washing over her as her ritual is almost complete.
Tossing her weapon into the air, she shines a Miraculous Light over Paris, healing her beloved city once again from powers that seem to only exist to oppose her. As the soothing bubbles clearing all the debris, returning everything to its former glory, Ladybug does the same when her final circle beeps away.
After all, when the clock strikes twelve, the carriage always turns back into a pumpkin.
The sun has set late again, but tonight, Marinette decides not to roam the streets of Paris as someone else. Her arms still sting from the tiny glass shards, but nothing stings like Alya's words running on repeat in her mind.
She had just stepped back into the crowd when a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around hard. "How could you do that to me?" Alya screamed. "Don't you ever do that to me again."
Marinette only whispered apologies as she hugged her best friend close, smoothing her hair as Alya cried into her shirt.
"You're no Ladybug."
"I know–I know I'm not."
Going home was not as easy either, with her parents fretting over her and checking every last inch of skin as they looked at her wounded arms. She had no tears to give as her mother cleaned the wounds, using kind hands to tweeze the few shards out of her skin. Papa sneaked her a shot of whiskey that she gulped down as her mother rubbed the cuts with peroxide and wrapped them up with gauze.
She never sketched the dress she envisioned so thoughtfully by the waterfront, the glittering gems far from her mind.
Spending time with her parents didn't happen either when she solemnly went to her room too–deciding that it was best to eat dinner up there.
So, when she snuck out of her room tonight, she did not do so by leaping from her balcony, using her yo-yo to grapple her across the streets of Paris, but instead took careful steps down those wooden stairs. Tikki didn't say anything when Marinette didn't grab her purse, just deciding it was best to settle in the hood of a black sweatshirt.
With no destination in mind, the two halves of Ladybug find themselves perpendicular to La Seine as they wander by different judicial court buildings like the Palais de Justice on the boulevard. It stands tall and impressive, the mason work simple and supported by fat circular columns. There are large windows, huge and grand, that makes it almost look inviting and right. Yet as Marinette lingers, she can't ignore the colossal and imposing iron rod fence, the tips plated with golden metal that shines while taxi cabs zip by. The center gate is ornate, big and bold, locked up and unmoving as it is guarded by a chain.
The symbolism is not lost to her as she claws at her heart, feeling a similar chain tying her to duty and justice that seems to have no key. It is fate for me, she concedes, to be bound to this other side of me. Tikki nuzzles her ear, whimpering as if she can feel the storm brewing in Marinette's heart.
"Don't worry, Tikki," she says while the two sets of eyes look at the site before them. "You're worth it."
The red tiny kwami lets out a sigh and Marinette finally tears her eyes away from the building continues walking to La Seine.
Between them it is quiet, which is not new for the pair; always in sync and in tandem with one another. Yet it is the small gasp that Tikki makes which piques Marinette's interest, humming her question as the world feels less overwhelming.
"I was just thinking we need a change," the kwami starts, a giggle in her voice. "And lo and behold! We're at Pont du Change!"
Marinette's eyes search for the sign and she can't help but grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling. As the sign points forward, the allure of something new makes her heart skip a beat. "Should we take it?"
Tikki's voice is soft and hopeful, almost knowing as she trills. "Yes, yes!"
At her companion's excitement, Marinette laughs and pushes ahead, her steps lighter. It doesn't take long for the two to make it to the bridge, the pathway empty at this hour. On all sides of her, buildings are glowing and bathing the world in orange. Like most nights, it is just the two of them, gazing at the world as they look at the scenery, the river dark as it flows in the city.
"This is nice," Marinette speaks, letting out a happy sigh. "Just you and me, and no akuma."
Tikki flies down to sit on the railing in front of her change, swaying side to side. "Times like now are my favorites."
Using her hand, she gently pets her kwami's head, her words teasing. "I still think if we just followed Chloe around, we could stop akuma attacks from happening."
"Marinette!"
"Shush, you," she chuckles. "What if someone hears you!"
Grumbling, Tikki quiets down and breathes deep, building a bubble just for the two of them again. In the distance, there is a somber song, haunting and deep, drawn out chants and notes that hold no words. If rivers could cry, Marinette thinks as she listens,this is the sound they would make.
"A Black Cat will turn up soon," Tikki says lowly, her voice knowing and wise as the hymn tapers away. The water laps against the channel's edges and splashes.
Marinette never takes her eyes off the river, the chords of the song still ringing in her ears, resonating in her chest. If my heart could sing, would it know how to reply?
But that thought doesn't make her any less lonely.
A/N: Thanks for reading! You're really awesome!