His black suit stood out in the still fading light of the day in Paris, and Ladybug found herself trying to understand why he stood so awkwardly, a facade of confidence clung to his frame, and yet it wasn't enough to convince her when she'd just met him and would work beside him for the good of Paris in days to come.
He'd introduced himself to her at once with the decision to emphasize the 'Chat' to his name; he's Chat Noir, something more than the Cat Noir that had tumbled accidentally out of his lips when he'd introduced himself to her.
Chat Noir claimed that the French name fit him perhaps better than anything else ever could, 'Hands down, I'm more French than I'm anything else.'
Ladybug had been thrown for one heck of a loop when she'd found out her partner was this determined to hint at his French nationality than perhaps anyone that she met; her mother had moved to France nervously several years ago, often shied away nearly from being too much seen in public around parts that certainly let whispers fly.
She'd known that her mom referred to herself as Chinese, often spoke it at home, and clung to that identity amid the racing of Eugenics through France, clung to it now even though the man that she loved yet couldn't marry was French; Marinette had heard the gossip, had heard the terrible insults sent her father's way for simply being with her mother, for not being able to say that he had a certificate on his wall.
Ladybug however had grown up with the knowledge that while her parents weren't married, while she wasn't technically full blooded French, that she was French; 'It's nothing to be ashamed of, dear. You're just as French as the rest of them.' She'd never been compelled to overemphasize her French nationality though she certainly felt French, spoke it with the ease of having always spoke it though Chinese always slipped thinly through her grasp.
She'd found it odd still to hear Chat Noir refer to himself so strongly as French, and she doubted that he needed to; his accent was perfect, he looked the part other than the ridiculous superhero suits that they both wore, and while his hair was fair, and his eyes were blue, he was still undeniably French, undeniably European, undeniably white.
Ladybug didn't say a word about it however; she just knew that if she did, she'd be walking a thin path.
"Do you believe that Dreyfus is innocent?" Chat Noir rarely spoke up about politics or his own personal opinion of it, not while they worked; he joked, laughed, flirted, emphasized his French nature to the points of extremes, but he never spoke of politics unless he had to and then he was usually vague.
"I believe in France. Shouldn't we know better by this point than to wrongly imprison and accuse a man? We lost for some reason. It could be him, it could be someone else, but what are we to say if he is guilty?" Ladybug sat down beside her partner who scooted away just so slightly when she sat down.
"I believe," Chat Noir took a deep breath that Ladybug felt was a brace to keep him steady as he spoke more openly and genuinely than Ladybug had ever felt him speak, "I believe he's innocent. We point fingers, don't we? People choose someone to blame to ease the guilt and to find a way to mend a broken nation. It doesn't mean he's guilty. They don't have much on him." Chat Noir's voice was soft, broken when he couldn't help but go on, but never raising above a low volume, a low voice.
"He could be innocent." Ladybug couldn't deny that, couldn't deny it as everyone fought on the street way too much when they should find a way to see other people, get along, but she wasn't sure if she could give up on her French pride as skewed as it may be to move past the popular opinions of her country.
"I hope that everything will be okay." Okay wasn't concrete, wasn't absolute, and she wondered for once what that could mean, all things considered now.
Watching her partner try to pacify those that spoke out angrily, assure them that the government heard their voices, that politics couldn't be completely crooked felt like night and day compared to all that she'd came to know from by his side.
He confused her, and yet that never was enough to shove all of her old thoughts away; just, what did he know about this Jewish man that had tried to defend their country, tried to work for the greater good?
She imagined that her very French partner in fighting crime and working toward a better France had to know much more than she did about him regardless.
Chat Noir was everything in a hero, even when he pushed a part of himself down beneath the surface, that one should strive for; she knew that she'd come to admire him with every passing day.
When Chat Noir curled up against her side one night, second court case for Alfred Dreyfus handled with the same results, she didn't say a word as tears fell on the shoulder of her black spotted, red suit.
"They don't have enough evidence, Ladybug." His voice broke and shattered away from him.
"I know." It wasn't much, not at all, when her partner cried on her shoulder; it felt like a part of her shattered alongside him.
"I thought that may be they'd accept him for all the good that he fought for." The tears in Chat Noir's voice reminded her that he was very young, like she was too, being in her teens meant that some day soon, she'd be married, but it wasn't enough to mean that she felt like a woman.
Right now, she felt like a little girl with the world's burdens strewn across her shoulders; she couldn't imagine what Chat must have been feeling.
"Are you Jewish?" It slipped out before she could stop herself as she felt him tense up against her side, felt a part of himself close off from her.
"What if I am?" When he pulled away from her, she saw the strong superhero that always stood beside her, face blank of all emotion, eyes harder than flint could ever hope to be, shoulders broad and pulled taut.
Ladybug wanted to cry when her first response was to pull away; she knew that rumors stung, gossip killed life before it could grow up, and yet that wasn't enough.
She'd comforted Jews, spent hours debating over whether Alfred Dreyfus really was innocent, and could nearly convince her heart to believe that he was, but it wasn't enough when she broke over her partner like this, wasn't enough when she wanted to recoil, wanted to listen to the voices of France. 'They don't have a nationality; they only see themselves as Jews. They aren't quite as human.'
Ladybug bit her lips when tears slipped down her face as she tried to pull an answer from deep down within her; she knew prejudice, knew what people thought of her, what people spoke of her regardless of whether she was near or not. She'd worked unbelievably hard to be seen as a superhero of France, especially when people took a look at her, and called her inferior, or Asian, or less human, and yet she found her own prejudices clinging to her even now.
"Does it change what I am?" Chat Noir's voice is acidic, dripping down past her toes somehow, leaving her weak and empty, speechless, because it shouldn't matter, not when she's judged just as harshly, just as unfairly as he is.
Ladybug's voice drops down past her throat, doesn't quite leave her lips like she wants it to, especially when he turns tail and runs, runs from her and what they'd been trying to become, runs from their friendship, but he doesn't run from his identity; he never does, not even when he announces how absolutely French he is. She knows he's as French as she is, even though she's sure that that's not saying much unless she truly, truly was full blooded French.
She's off like a rocket; her voice may be lost as she tries to regain the energy to scream out for him, but her feet know to follow.
Ladybug can't believe how broken, how harsh she'd become, when she was like him though their religions were different, their nationality was the same, even when their ethnicities differed so much.
Finally, her voice broke out of her throat, "Chat Noir, Chat Noir! I-I'm okay with it." She stumbles against his side when he pauses, eyes filled with tears, to glare at her, as if her words aren't believed, as if they don't matter.
"Chat, I'm Chinese." Her head bows as if she's inferior somehow, "I consider myself as French as I can be, but my mom's Chinese. She speaks it at the house often, she cooks it and bakes it, and never drops it. Dad's French. He carries that like armor against those who treat him like he's less human for loving a Chinese woman." She can't quite breathe past her voice, the tears that fill her eyes, the way her mind bounces from idea to idea or the pain that even manages to clog up her lungs.
"But, you're not Jewish." It's like a slap to her face, like he's trying with a last ditch effort to separate them even now.
"But, I have no right to judge." It's hard to admit, harder to say than she'd ever expect, but it's true; she's always looked up to Chat, and perhaps there may be more reason to now.
"But, you do, Ladybug." It's never hurt worse to hear her superhero name, to know that what leaves his mouth is awkward English, to know that there's no endearment in the way he says her name, not right now.
"I-You are my best friend, Chat, the one I look up to like no one else. You are everything a superhero should be, even though you are Jewish, even though France doesn't quite understand right now." She tries to breathe past the ache in her chest that spreads from her heart to her lungs to her throat, nearly cracks her voice, nearly shatters every breath. She doesn't want to lose him.
"Ladybug," he spins to look into her eyes more directly, "If you don't mean it, don't say a word. I don't want to hope for more than I can ever have from you, not anymore."
"I mean every word, Chat. I love you as much as I love my mom and my dad. I love you enough to always keep fighting for you, if you'll let me." She squeaks when his arms loop around her waist, when she's pulled close, when he kisses her on the lips though she's sure that it will end up in the newspapers later.
There's nothing romantic about the kiss and yet it's everything for those five seconds that she'd ever needed; it's forgiveness, it's strength, it's a promise to keep going even when the tides are turned against them. She trusts Chat with her life, and she's glad that he's willing to trust her with just as much; whatever they may face, they can get through together even if just barely.