A/N: Hey Guys! I know I'm supposed to be writing for two other fandoms as well as two stories for this one, one of which I haven't even began to write yet, but the writer of a story I am absolutely in love with offered their story up for adoption and I jumped at the opportunity to try and write in the world in which they have created. So if the first seven or so chapters sound similar it is because I am not the original owner of this story, but will be continuing it for all those fans of the story. Shout out to the original owner buggienettebby, make sure to check out the rest of their work and to thank them for coming up with this fantastic AU. Feel free to suggest any changes to the story, critique or comment in the reviews, I am always happy to hear what others have to say. Other than that, I have nothing else to say, so I hope you enjoy!

I struggled.

Every waking minute of every day, while lying in that hospital bed, I struggled. The move to China was something amazing, it truly was an experience and I didn't regret a single thing. How could I? I was in a wonderful place surrounded by all of those who love and care for me, and I love and care for in turn.

Trust my luck to ruin such an experience. We all knew how it struck at the worst of times, and once my parents and I made the move, it was only a matter of when? When would my bad luck begin to cause chaos in this new life of ours? After a mere few months of us being here, I fell ill. A disease had started attacking the back of my brain near the stem. The Doctors said that if the growth of the disease continued I'd become paralysed. They reassured my parents that, with the right medication, support and a handful of luck, I might be able to defeat it.

My eye sight was the first thing that started to deteriorate. The deterioration, at first, was slow and hardly noticeable. But with each passing day, as the weeks turned into months and my treatment helped stop the destruction of the rest of my brain, the speed of which my sight disappeared, grew. The Doctor's had deducted that whilst the disease was gone due to the excellent medication China had, there was no way for them to save my vision.

Maman and Papa, who had been by my bedside through the whole ordeal, where the ones who broke the news to me. Eventually, I would become blind. From that point on, I never wanted to stop looking at them. I didn't want to forget what they looked like. I'd engrave their appearances in my brain before that ever happened.

Every day, I fought to keep the remnants of the disease at bay, to hold onto my vision just a little longer. I was still in my hospital bed. While my parents had requested to take me out of the hospital, to see the world before I lost one of five senses, my Doctors had argued that whilst the full force of the disease had passed, they needed me within close range so that they could monitor my healing and insure the disease's destruction. Today, like many days before it, I was looking out of my window at my surroundings. At the bustling streets below, filled with faces of people unknown going about their business, unaware of the young girl looking down at them from the third floor who was turning blind. I looked at the trees, their leaves and each individual nest hidden between a branch's forks filled with twittering, hungry baby birds.

I observed everything, obtaining every last piece of detail no matter how tiny. I took in the colours; the blues of the skies and greens of the trees, the greys of the footpaths and the pinks and oranges of sunsets that reached over the towering buildings of the city and touched my window. I often wondered if I'd be able to recall what colours were after living with my blindness for a few years. I knew deep down that I would forget. But I had to at least try and make the colours stick in my memory for as long as possible. For the truth was, living in a world without colour scared me. Colour could display so many emotions. It could be happy, angry, sad and so much more! And to think I'd lose that…

More importantly, I kept a picture in my hands at all times. Occasionally I would glance at it hoping against all hope that I would never forget the smile that looked back up at me. The smiles of my friends. I missed them terribly. Alya, Nino, and most importantly, Adrien. I studied their faces night and day, but as time passed by, so did my vision just as expected it would.

Each new day I saw my vision blur and become more unclear than it did the day previous. It was like looking through foggy glass. But it never stopped me from looking at the picture I held though. From trying to capture their faces. Given time, it was the last thing I saw before waking up the very next day seeing nothing but a black abyss.

When I turned thirteen the Doctors were comfortable enough to let me go from the hospital, confident that the disease was completely eradicated. My parents took me home that very day with, what I could only presume, large smile on their faces. I spent the following months entering in and out of rehab programs were I learnt how to read Braile, to walk with my cane, type on the computer and to rely on my other four senses to guide me throughout everyday living. I adjusted to my new life style quickly, accepting my disability with a flare of confidence as to not worry my parents after all we'd been through together, and soon I was able to carry on like how I used to.

It was on my 17th birthday when I received the news that my family and I were moving back to Paris, France. I couldn't remember a time when I was more excited. I loved the idea of meeting my old friends again that almost forgot about the fact that I'd have no way of contacting hem, or knowing where they were. For all I knew, they left Paris and moved elsewhere. As for us, we were going to move back to the same place we left. My parents were to shut down their current bakery in China and re-open their old bakery in France.

I felt so many emotions just talking about it with Maman and Papa. I was happy because I'd be living in my place of birth yet sad that my friends may not even remember me. With so many feelings coursing through me through the span of just a few minutes made me sick to the stomach. I could only picture the smiling faces of my parents as they chuckled and watched me crash around our living room in my excitement, bringing another smile to my own face.

The flight back to Paris was a long one, so I kept myself busy. I spent several minutes writing in my diary when I realized everything started to sound a bit repetitive. I played my music for a while but shortly grew tired of the songs I had heard many a time. I even listened to a few chapters of an audiobook but not even the adventures of Sherlock Homes could keep me sitting still in my seat. So I forced myself to just listen to the hum of the plane's engines and the excited chatter, and sometimes snoring, of other passengers; occasionally talking with Maman when she asked if I needed anything.

Every now and then, I'd hear a little child, presumably from the seats across the aisle from ours, ask his mother, "Why is she just staring at the seat?"

The mother, obviously tired and in no rush to explain what blindness is, simply told him "Shush, stop asking."

At one point the mother had gotten up from her seat to, presumably, go to the bathroom. Without his mother's watchful gaze, I felt the kid's eyes narrow in on me. Biting my lip, I turned my head in the boy's direction. Honestly, it was probably a little creepy on my part, but the boy didn't seem to mind. Or if he did, he didn't bring it up.

"Hi!" the little boy shouted, despite being only a good metre away from me.

Flinching at the sudden loudness, I smiled at him, "Hey." The child must have only been four or five years of age, so his natural curiosity sparked by my 'odd' behaviour was unsurprising.

"Why do you stare at everything?" I heard the boy jump off his seat and stumble towards my chair.

"Well, you see, I'm blind."

The confusion he must have felt was evident in his tone of voice, "What does that mean?"

Chuckling, I answered the boy's question in the simplest way possible, "It means I can't see."

He was silent for a moment. I was slightly startled when I suddenly felt two tiny hands grasp my face, "Will you ever see again?"

No. But I didn't want to tell him that, he was still young, he could be ignorant of the world's unfairness for a little longer, "I don't know, to tell you the truth."

"Well, I hope you can see again soon. Don't give up!" he cheered.

I laughed. It was impossible, "I won't."

Taking his hands away from my cheeks, the child spoke up again, "My name's Toby. What's yours?"

Blinking at the sudden change in conversation, I replied, "I'm Marinette."

Toby's mother had decided at that moment to come back and break up our conversation by yanking him back to his seat, apologising for any rudeness he may have shown. I was quick to reassure her that it was fine, and continued to talk with Toby for the rest of the trip.

After landing in Paris some many hours, and conversations, later my parents and I said goodbye to Toby and took a bus to the stop near the bakery that we used to call home. Papa had mentioned something about delivery trucks, filled with our belongings, currently being on their way to the building. As said trucks arrived, Maman and Papa unpacked whilst I got adjusted to my surroundings.

It was harder than I thought.

I must have bumped into every piece of furniture we had, cupboards, coffee tables, couches, chairs, the list went on. After I heard the sound of multiple crashes, glassware shattering against wooden floor, I decided to leave the exploring for another day, when jet lag didn't have such an effect on me.

Instead, I opted to sit outside and type on my computer to keep me occupied. Whilst typing, I could hear a girl complaining from about a block away.

"I said gold, not silver! Silver is for poor people! Besides, it would look way better on my car. Don't you idiots know anything? Do your job properly or I'll tell my Daddy how bad of a service you give, he'll have to shut it down."

I simply rolled my eyes. God, what a brat! Prissy little rich girls like her didn't understand how lucky they were to have everything they wanted. How dare she complain about something as trivial as having something silver over something gold? How could someone be so ungrateful?

Her voice drew closer to which I turned my head towards. I felt a small push against my shoulder, the unexpected contact, along with the shove, caused me to drop my computer and knock my cane away from beside me. Hearing the expensive piece of equipment fall out of my hands and onto the cement with a loud SMACK terrified me. It was most likely broken.

A cold sweat began to form on my forehead as I began to panic. That computer cost a lot of money and it would be no easy task to replace it. I couldn't even begin to count how many pastries my parents would have to sell in order to buy me another.

Letting my fingertips touch the ground, I began to feel around the cold pavement for the device when I felt someone push the familiar piece of metal into my hands. Grabbing it, I reached for the wall I knew was beside me as to make sure I didn't fall over when I stood up, as without my cane, I felt slightly unbalanced.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry about that! I was too busy on my phone to watch where I was going-oh, wow." The girl who claimed to be the one who bumped into me apologised before cutting off her sentence halfway through.

Not too far away, I small snort was hurt. "Look at that Sabrina, Miss Comic Book Geek has friends other than that DJ Freak!"

It was the brat from earlier. I grit my teeth in an attempt to bite back a rude comment. I might not have known the person who bumped into me, or the history they might've had with this person, but she definitely hadn't done anything now to deserve this person's mocking.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the girl spoke sarcastically, "I didn't know my social life was so important to you. Why don't you run along, haven't you got a Daddy to go and complain to? But, I guess that's what bitches do in their spare time, huh?" she shot back which cause me to smile.

Hearing a scoff and nothing but the sound of high heels click-clacking across the sidewalk, decreasing in volume with every second that passed, I sensed the girl who had caused my computer to fall turn to me, "I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble, Chloe had no right to involve you with our rivalry. And as for the computer, if it's broken, I'll find the money to buy you a new one!" she reassured.

"N-no, no. You don't have to do that. These things are expensive, there is no way I could let you do such a thing. I'm sure it's fine." I responded as I began to smile at the girl's kindness.

"O-kaaaay. But if it is broken I will buy you a new one if it's the last thing I do." She said confidently, her stubbornness causing me to giggle. The girl didn't seem to say anything for a bit, I presumed she left when she said, "I'm sorry, have we met before? It's just that, you look awfully familiar."

"Oh, Yeah! I used to live here in Paris. Perhaps you saw me pass you through the streets one time? A Doctor told me once you see a face you never forget it, but I'm still testing out how true that theory is." I reasoned, forcing myself to kill any hope that this may have been Alya.

"No, no, I'm certain the connection's deeper than that…" the girl denied, pondering on the thought as I felt her observe my features, "What's your name?" she asked abruptly.

"M-Marinette Dupain-Cheng." I replied, uncertain as to whether or not I should be giving away my personal details to just anyone, no-matter how friendly they may seem. But then again, how else was I supposed to make friends?

"MARI!?"