A/N: This story came from me wanting to write marichat, then ladrien, and then every variation of this pairing, so I finally despaired and put them all into one neat little story. And then added angst and reveals and ass-kicking because I could.
I can guarantee a happy ending, but getting there will a be a wild ride I hope you're willing to accompany me through.
With that said- enjoy!
Murphy's Law
Part I: Lantern
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[December 19th]
The sun has long since disappeared below the horizon. Fading streaks of orange and red paint the darkening sky, which is clear but for a small gathering of clouds in the distance. Paris is holding true to its name as the City of Light, lit from every corner, either by the soft glow of streetlamps or the stark brightness of the Eiffel Tower.
Marinette closes her eyes on the sight, breathing in deep and slow. The night air is freezing cold, the taste of winter heavy on her tongue. It wraps around her still figure, chilling her to the bone. Its touch clears away the fog in her thoughts.
Her heart is still hurting, still crying, but at least her mind is clear.
She doesn't regret what she is about to do. She won't let herself. If there is any evidence of the toll the past few days have taken on her, it is this. Marinette is so tired of lying. Of keeping secrets. Of smiling and reassuring but seeing their faces fall anyway.
She opens her eyes to the dark sky above her. Light pollution hides the stars from view but the city is its own sky, its many lights shining just as brightly. She marvels in its simplistic beauty. Light against the darkness, so clear-cut and simple.
Has anything ever been simple for her? She thinks it used to be, before she climbed the attic stairs and found a pair of dull earrings that glowed maraschino cherry red in her palm. Her own actions after that certainly hadn't helped matters.
Marinette hesitates despite her earlier conviction not to. She is afraid to turn around. She doesn't want to see his face, to hear his questions. She has grown used to this life, to the surety of his friendship and laughter.
She is terrified that what she is about to do will ruin that.
Except Marinette is Ladybug, and more than anything else that means she will have to make sacrifices. Her honesty, her time, and one day, maybe even her life. It is something she had come to terms with a long time ago.
And there is very little in this world she wouldn't sacrifice for him.
So she takes another breath and lets the night air wash her clean, lets it cool her clammy palms and slow her rapid heart. When she walks to his side it is as she always does, every step deliberate and confident, her head high and shoulders loose.
He looks up at her and she sees all the questions he has been dying to ask her, the way they sit heavy on his heart and his tongue and his mind, and thinks she was cowardly not to do this sooner.
"Chat Noir," she says, and the use of his full title is almost a confession on its own, the soft way the syllables roll off her tongue carrying a sense of finality. "We need to talk."
[December 16th]
Marinette is halfway to the fabric store and on the phone with Alya when she hears the screaming.
The sound of it catches her attention immediately and she stops, her hand dropping. She can hear the soft tinny echo of Alya's voice through the speakers, still babbling on about their project. She ignores it and closes her eyes to help her focus, almost dismissing the sound as her imagination until she hears it again.
It catches like a forest fire—where there used to be one screamer now there are many, a crescendo of fear that makes it hard for her to know where to go or what has happened. This time even Alya hears it, her friend shouting through the phone, a fearful edge to her demanding tone.
"Marinette! Marinette, what's going on?"
Marinette clenches her hand on her half-drained cup of tea and ducks out of the way of the crowd, yelping when they catch her in their midst and drive her towards the roads. She follows their movement and slips into the safety of a crowed alleyway, mind whirling.
Blinding light flashes through the crowd of fleeing civilians, the sudden brightness making her wince and causing quite a few more to scream. On the phone Alya raises her voice loud enough to be heard even with the low volume.
"Marinette!"
"No idea," she tells Alya, distractedly looking for a place to hide. It is far too crowded on the street to transform unseen here. She sees a break in the mob farther off, and breathes out sharply in relief.
"I have to go! I'll call you later!"
She barely hears the start of Alya's protests when she ends the call, shutting down her phone and shoving it into her purse beside her sunglasses. Tikki pokes her head out, and Marinette smiles at her in reassurance before rushing into the crowd of frightened people.
To her frustration, the side street is just as packed as the others, people huddling down in cafés and shops, clearly wanting to flee but too frightened to risk it. Marinette grits her teeth and heads toward one of the emptier buildings, dodging bystanders in search of a secluded area.
So caught up in her dilemma, she barely notices another person rounding the corner until she almost slams into them, barely managing to catch herself in time. She skids to a stop, trying desperately to keep from falling, tea sloshing around in the cup she hadn't thought to let go of.
"Sorry!" Marinette yelps, breathless and hurried. "I am so, so sorry…" she looks up, her voice catching in her throat as her mind scrambles to make sense of the situation.
The other girl scowls down at her, pale eyes glowing like miniature lanterns and wind whipping her dyed hair around her face. Numerous dark beads, small and reflective, hang from a long sweeping dress of pale yellow decorated with streaks of white fabric. A mask similar to Ladybug's fits snugly on the girl's face, only this one is made of porcelain and ends in a sharp point over the girl's nose.
Marinette stares at the faintly glowing necklace handing delicately from the girl's neck and feels her heart drop.
"Akuma," she whispers, horrified, and the girl looks surprised—and then, darkly amused. The smile on her face is worse than the scowl: it is stretched and thin, as most akuma victims' are; baring too many teeth and containing a wicked joy devoid of any warmth or mercy.
Marinette takes a half step back, wide eyes flickering around to take in the scene before her. The girl's hand is slowly rising to Marinette's face, her long and delicate nails painted pitch black. Beyond the akuma she can see her victims, curled up on the ground and weeping, their hands pressed against their eyes.
Without thinking she throws her hand forward, shoving the last remnants of her hot tea in the girl's face. She doesn't wait to see the aftermath, just dashes by her, trying to quell the guilt rising through her when the akuma's pained shriek reverberates through the air.
"How dare you!" the girl screeches, her voice shrill and reedy with pain. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Marinette refuses to look back, already aware of what she will see. The bust of heat near her heels is confirmation enough and desperately she ducks into an alley, trying to recall where she is and where she is heading. There is no way she can transform now, not with the akuma literally on her heels.
She skids around the corner and nearly trips, but a warm hand grips her shoulder and yanks her upright. She almost screams, almost brings up her fist and prepares to hit as hard and as fast as she can, but then she sees the pale blond hair and the gleaming green eyes and feels herself relax subconsciously.
"Chat Noir," she breathes, and doesn't think she has ever been this happy to see him in her entire life.
"Hello, Princess!" he greets cheerfully, running his eyes over her in a quick scan, his gloved hands patting her shoulders securely. "Nice to see you again."
"Chat," she repeats, too winded from her run to speak as quickly as she'd like, "Chat, we have to go!"
He looks startled by her urgency, eyes going comically wide. She can't see his eyebrows beneath the mask but she has a feeling he is raising both at her, surprise painted across his face.
It would be amusing if she wasn't currently running for her life. Marinette forcefully takes a calming breath, and then shoves Chat Noir off her, well aware that the akuma is close behind.
"We have to go now!" she shouts, and this time she must get through, because the playful look vanishes and a frown replaces it. He looks over her shoulder and whatever he sees must solidify it, because the next thing she knows he has taken her hand and they are running for their lives.
"She's after me," Marinette gasps out, when they are a few blocks down and the akuma is farther back. She's falling behind him, her improper shoes hurting her feet with very step and her small body breaking under the strain of their dash.
Marinette is not built for running. Sprinting she can do, and acrobatics, but a hard run for five blocks is not something she was meant for. Neither, she thinks, is Chat Noir—when he looks back at her his face is flushed and his breaths as rushed as hers.
"Why?" he asks. "Did the Princess offend the light-lady's delicate sensibilities?"
They round a corner and Marinette's flat shoes skid on the smooth, well-worn cobble of the streets. Only Chat's iron grip on her arm keeps her from slipping, and he pulls her back to her feet with a sharp tug. Their rhythm falters for brief moment but they find it again, the repetitive thud-thud-thud of their feet upon the stones.
"I might have thrown hot tea in her face," she admits, and flushes when Chat starts to laugh between every desperate gasp of air.
"You're paw-sitively vicious, Princess!" he crows delightedly, and before Marinette can respond he stops and pulls her flush against him.
She splutters, taken off-guard by the sudden action, slamming her palm on his collarbone, not hard enough to hurt but enough to catch his attention. "What are you doing?"
"Taking a short-cut," he informs her, one hand securely around her waist and the other lazily spinning his staff. His eyes are bright with adrenaline, and his crooked smile is mischievous but reassuring. Marinette scans his face and slowly relaxes in his hold, choosing to trust in him.
The akuma seems to appear with a blinding burst of light, glowing brightly even in the sun. She takes one look at them and cries out with glee, soft light building up in the center of her palms like miniature beacons.
Chat winks at her, and just as she lunges at them he slams the end of his staff onto the ground, gripping the top tightly as the staff grows, throwing them both up in the air and out of the akuma's reach.
For a moment they are airborne, untouchable and invincible, and the next moment they are plummeting back to the earth. Marinette yelps when they fall forward onto the roof of a building, flat and new with a door leading in and a turbine roof vent whirling around. The freefall loosens Chat's hold on her and she slides across the rough stone, scraping her palms and knees.
"C'mon!" Chat enthuses, already on his feet, and Marinette nods, scrambling up and ignoring the stinging pain in her palms. She rushes forward to yank at the door, the metal burning against her scrapes. It opens with little resistance and she ducks insides, looking back at him.
He makes to close it and hide her from sight but then a blast of light bursts over his head like a firework. Swearing loudly, Chat dives inside the building with her and pulls the door shut just as another blast comes their way.
It hits the door with a resounding slam, and the metal glows white-hot, the plastic coating turning an angry red. Marinette bites back a snarl of frustration, grabbing Chat's shoulder and pulling him away from the bubbling plastic.
Hearing the faint click of heeled shoes approaching even with the wall between them, she grabs Chat's arm, pulling him alongside her into another run. A clang sounds behind them as the akuma blasts the ruined door open, laughing manically.
"You can't run forever!" she screeches after them. "I'll catch you sooner or later! You won't even see it coming!"
"Not while she wears those heels," Chat mutters.
Marinette ignores him. This akuma is different than previous, and she suspects it may be a level of danger similar or at least comparable to the Mime. There is no way Chat can fight her off without Ladybug, and there's no chance he'll leave Marinette behind either, not with the akuma targeting her specifically.
Their hands are both magnificently tied, so the only option left is to run.
Luckily Chat seems to have a similar train of thought because he quickly catches up, pulling her down a few more flights of stairs, picking a door for one of the lower levels and dragging them out into the building.
He stops and Marinette nearly crashes into him, and she barely gets a moment to regain her balance before he recovers and they are off again. Chat scans the walls as they run, his expression focused and mouth set in a firm line, no playful smile in sight.
"I know this place," he calls back to her, yanking her around another corner. A blast of light slams into the wall closest to her head, and the heat leaves behind a dark mark. Marinette yelps and runs a bit faster.
"Then hurry up!"
At long last Chat drags her to rather empty hall but for a few doors, most leading into dark offices. She almost thinks them empty, but then she spies a pale face pressed against the glass, watching them with wary eyes, and she understands why the building is so quiet so early in the afternoon.
Chat chooses a door at random, throwing open the wooden door to reveal a small cluttered closet crammed full with brooms and buckets. Marinette slips inside and scoots over when he follows her. He presses her against the wall and closes the door silently, not daring to leave it open.
It is completely dark but for the slight sliver of light beneath the door. The air, dusty and stale, tickles her throat with every shallow breath. Her lungs are screaming, the weak gasps not giving her the oxygen she so dearly needs after such a sprint.
But it is either breathe or die, so Marinette presses her face into Chat's shoulder to muffle the sound of her raspy breaths. Blood roars in her ears, and her heart is beating so quickly she thinks it might be trying to break out of her chest, but her breathing, at least, is silent.
A moment passes, and then Chat's face is pressed into her collarbone, his breath warm and as rapid as hers. Together they huddle against the back of the closet and make as little noise as possible, too frightened to worry about personal space.
She can hear the click of the akuma's shoes and the soft swish of heavy fabric against the tiles. Marinette stares at the shadowed outline of the door and prays their silence is enough.
"Where did you go?" the girl calls out, her voice hard. "I know you're here! I saw you." Her voice lowers to a snarl, the words spat viciously. "Come out! Come out or I'll make you!"
A burst of light blooms beneath the door and roars as it slams into cool metal, terrified screams rising and falling rapidly from the other side. The girl laughs and the light flashes again, more doors being hit, more people screaming.
"You can't hide from me!" she shrieks, and this time the light finds them, hitting their wooden door and making the wood glow like embers, the slightest movement threatening to set it aflame. "I am the Lantern! I am light! I'll find you and I'll make you pay!"
A heavy silence falls as her last words echo, the air taut with fear, every occupant of the hallway collectively holding their breath. With a snarl the Lantern moves forward, leaving the ruined hallway behind, the click of her footsteps against the tile sharp and striking.
Cautious but no less cocky, Chat gives a low whistle. "Wow," he whispers, and even in the dim lighting Marinette can see his crooked smile. "She needs to chill."
Gasping in deeper breaths, relived that the danger has passed, Marinette shoves him. She is very suddenly aware of just how close they are, but ignores the butterflies churning in her stomach in favor of her usual annoyance.
"That was awful," she hisses back, but Chat's smile just stretches wider.
"Paw-ful?"
"Oh, shut up."
He laughs, quieter than normal but just as wickedly pleased as he usually is. She can feel his body shake with the sound, his pulse thrumming beneath her fingers, and Marinette is suddenly thankful for the darkness that hides her involuntary blush.
Chat has a nice laugh, and she wonders how she never noticed it before. It's a soft laugh, cheeky and playful, but warm like hearth fire. It's the sort of laugh that makes her want to smile, makes her want to do crazy things if it means she can hear it again.
Marinette gives herself a little shake. Focus, she tells herself. There's an akuma out there, and I can't transform. This isn't the time.
"Can we get out?" she asks, shifting into a more comfortable position. The akuma won't be gone for long, and if there is anything Marinette truly can't stand, it's being confined. Plus, she has a sinking feeling that in the absence of Marinette, the Lantern is taking out her rage on other civilians.
Chat eyes the door warily, slowly climbing to his feet with cat-like grace. The wood has cooled somewhat, and only a few flecks of wood grain still glow, but when he brings his hand closer he winces at the brush of heat, his whole body shying away from it.
"Not yet."
She lets out a shaky breath and quick nod, curling in on herself. Now that she can breathe properly she is calming down from her earlier panic, but her lungs ache fiercely and her whole body feels like one giant bruise.
Chat settles back down beside her, his warmth and comfort welcome even if his cheeky smile is not. "Why? Feline cramped?"
"This isn't funny," Marinette insists, but finds herself biting back a smile of her own. Ladybug would smile, but Marinette can't be Ladybug right now, not with Chat Noir so close and knowing her so well. "Why did you follow me in here, anyway? Don't you and Ladybug usually go out and fight?"
"She's after you," Chat explains, leaning back against the far wall and by consequence closer to Marinette. She feels heat rise to her cheeks. "If I fought her there, she'd have thought you were in one of the rooms—and then you'd really be in trouble."
He turns to her, his hair brushing briefly against her cheek. It's as soft as it looks, well cared for and silky smooth, and her skin tingles from the accidental contact. She resists the urge to scratch at it. His returning smile helps distract her—his teeth are a pale gleam of white in the gloom, and even though she can't see him she can clearly picture how he looks: green eyes crinkled and glittering with laughter, brow loose and tension-free, smile painfully wide and shoulders shaking from suppressed laughter.
"Don't worry, Princess. Your knight will guide you to safety, and then my Lady and I will douse that lantern's flame." He laughs, unable to hold it back, and something in her warms at the sound even as her heart drops. "You'll be home in time for dinner!"
She gives him a strained smile, trying to ignore the thought weighing heavily on her mind. If she doesn't get away soon, there will be no Ladybug to help him. And then where will they be?
If he notices her unease—and he must, for unlike her he actually has some semblance of night vision—he doesn't mention it. She feels him shift, the fabric of his suit rubbing against her jacket as he stands again, shuffling carefully to the door.
"Okay," he whispers, his hand resting suddenly on hers and making her jump. His breath is hot against her face. "I think it's safe. Stay behind me in case I'm wrong, though."
Marinette nods, carefully shifting behind him, the weak light almost completely blocked out by his form. She can just see the outline of his staff and hear the soft thud of him poking the door, and then, having deemed it safe, he quickly pushes it open.
The sudden light and rush of clean air makes her gasp, and she blinks rapidly to clear her vision. The hallway is scorched and smells faintly of smoke, and guilt crawls up her throat. The doors are melted where the unburning fire had touched them, and she can see terrified faces peeking out at them through the office windows.
Chat lightly touches her shoulder to get her attention, his smile small but sincere. He's an idiot for not leaving her here and going ahead, but he's a noble idiot, and Marinette feels a sudden rush of affection for him.
He thrusts his staff into the air like a sword, the other hand propped on his waist, his head tilted just so. She can almost see the imaginary cape flowing behind him, and this time she doesn't bother to hold back her smile.
"Let us go, Princess! To safety!"
"Lead the way, kitty," Marinette offers, and for a moment she forgets herself, a small smirk curling her lips, grinning up at him as she has done so many times before behind the mask.
Chat blinks, startled from his play, and she realizes her mistake. The smirk drops and her amusement fades, and her nervous laughter, too loud and shaking to be natural, fills up the silence.
"S-sorry! I just, ah, it just came out…!"
"Y-yeah," Chat says, shaking his head, but his smile is tentative and dare she say it—curious, and that scares almost as much as the Lantern does. A curious Chat is never a good thing.
To her relief he seems to pass it off as a coincidence, gesturing for her to follow as he heads back to the stairs. She trails after him, making sure to be just a tad slower, and maybe look a bit more fearful than she feels. A normal civilian would be afraid, she reminds herself. She just has to act normally, and hopefully he'll never think of it again.
Normal. Right. She has a feeling this endeavor will end similarly to her attempts to ask Adrien out—which is to say, disastrously.
"You coming?"
Chat is smiling again, shoulders loose and eyes glittering like he hasn't a care in the world. It's almost endearing.
She nods at him. "Yeah. Let's go."
With one last lingering look, an indiscernible emotion flickering over his face, Chat turns and vanishes through the door. Marinette pauses briefly but follows, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. As much as she appreciates what Chat is doing, or at least the thought behind it, the longer she lingers here the longer Ladybug will be absent.
She doesn't think they can afford that.
She tries to put this thought out of her mind as she and Chat creep down the staircase, each step feather-light on the echoing metal. Every clang makes her jolt, and she bites her lip until she draws blood to keep herself from reacting.
Marinette hates hiding. At least when she fights she knows where the opponent is, and can hold faith in her own ability to match their attacks. Being forced to play helpless civilian galls her, and the suspense is slowly shaking her confidence, every scare chipping away at her self-control.
It's a relief when they reach the ground floor without incident. She wipes the blood off her lips before Chat can see—she really has got to stop with that habit—and sets back her shoulders. She's startling to dislike the Lantern more and more for putting her in this situation in the first place.
Chat swings the door open, both of them cringing when a long creak rises from the unoiled hinges. The lobby of the office building is remarkably empty, but a closer look around reveals why. The room has been completely trashed—windows broken, flowerpots shattered, the small sitting room overturned and scorched black. The smell of smoke still lingers, making Marinette's stomach turn, but there is no fire. The Lantern has been through here, and even though that should be relief—after all, it's not likely she will return—something about the scene feels off.
Chat doesn't share her unease, if the way he practically saunters out into the open with impish smile firmly in place is anything to go on. He swerves around a shattered piece of modern art, once beautiful and now reduced to broken bits of sharp pipe, tapping it lightly with his staff and waving cheekily to her.
"Looks like we're in the clear, Princess! C'mon, let's get you out of here."
She nods, picking her way through the debris to his side. The room is eerily silent besides the scuff of her shoes against the tile, and despite Chat's nonchalance she can't help but feel they are missing something.
Marinette hasn't survived this long as Ladybug by not listening to her instincts. She races by Chat to the double doors leading outside, ignoring his surprised yelp when she almost slams into him. Her heartbeat is loud and insistent in her ears, and as she wraps her fingers around the handle a chill runs down her spine.
Too late she sees the ash dusting the wooden frame, and the metal handle burns fiercely against her scraped palms. She yanks them away, her skin blistering in the sudden brush of cold air. She can hear Chat yelling now, not bothering to keep his voice down, approaching her, but a flash in the corner of her eye steals her attention away.
Marinette turns from the blocked exit and stares numbly at the blinding light heading straight for her.