Author's Note: I have not yet seen any of the S3 episodes (not on Netflix in the US, yet) but I've heard some about the first one, Chameleon, and how Lila's lies lead to most of her classmates turning on Marinette. I wondered how our normally perky heroine might take it, especially if Alya didn't stand by her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir nor any of the characters. I make no profit from this story. I am just enjoying some time with a few of my favorite characters. The story is mine, however, except where referencing or directly quoting an episode.
Chat knew the day had been brutal on Marinette, hence the evening visit, but he was completely unprepared for the scene when he landed on her balcony. Huddled in the far corner, hidden in the darkest shadows of the looming twilight with her knees drawn up under her chin, she appeared even tinier than usual. Her arms cradled her head, but she was turned away from him and he couldn't see any part of her face.
He didn't need to, either. The shaking of her shoulders told the story as she sobbed. But it was the low volume keening, so quiet he would have missed it if not for his enhanced hearing, that threatened to tear his heart from his chest. How could that sound come from someone usually so bubbly?
She was so far down in her grief, she hadn't noticed his arrival. "Marinette?" He spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. She didn't respond. He sat down next to her, laying one gloved hand gently on her shoulder, and tried again. "Marinette? What is it?"
She inhaled sharply, her face whipping around. "Chat—uh—what are you doing here?" She looked away again, swiping at her cheeks as if she thought she could hide her distress so simply.
"Princess, are you all right?" Smooth. Yeah, obviously she's just peachy.
She faked a smile, terribly. "Sure. Bad day, but things will be better tomorrow." Her eyes weren't sparkling as usual and it was clear she didn't believe a word of what she'd just said.
He reached up to move some hair from her face, the customary pigtails missing. He smoothed it behind her ear, then wrapped that arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his embrace.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really." She leaned forward and laid her head back on her arms, but didn't turn away from him, so she hadn't completely shut him out.
Well, now what? He had to do something—he couldn't stand seeing her this way. Perhaps a distraction to help her relax, then maybe she'd open up?
"How about a moonlit tour of the city with yours truly? You haven't seen Paris until you've seen it aglow from above."
"No, thanks. I think I'm good here. It's dark, cozy, and at least I know what to expect if I stay where I am."
He gestured to himself. "Well, the outfit's dark, I would imagine we could get cozy, if you like, though that might be a bit unexpected." He trailed off, hoping for a smile as he tried to lighten the mood.
A sound that may have been a laugh tried to bubble up but was instead strangled on the way out by another sob. Once that broke free, the tears wouldn't stop coming. He couldn't take it, so he pulled her into his lap, holding her to his chest as she cried, murmuring nonsense about how it was going to be all right into her hair.
"Princess, this isn't like you." He angled her chin towards him, but she refused to meet his gaze.
She sniffed. "Maybe." Her eyes met his finally, and the sheer anguish that was tearing at her scared him. He'd never seen Marinette so upset, so seemingly hopeless. "Or maybe no one has cared enough to know what I'm really like to begin with."
Chat Noir brushed her hair back from her face. "And here I thought I was the one wearing the mask, Princess."
"Maybe that's my solution. I can start wearing a mask and blend into the crowd. No target on my back then."
"Even wearing the mask, Marinette, you'd still stand out." He squeezed her shoulders.
She half-laughed, half-hiccupped. "You're such a shameless flirt, Chat."
"But you almost smiled."
She nodded. "Thanks."
"You feel ready to tell me what's going on?"
"Have you ever had someone you thought of as a friend turn on you? How about a whole room full of people?"
"Can't say that I have, Princess. Then again, I don't have a whole room full of friends, either. Only a few people know the real me. Strangely enough, I'm more me behind this mask than without it."
"I feel like I'm an open book. I help people, that's what I do. Everyone knows that. But suddenly, someone spins a good story and my motivations are twisted. And it's some of the people I thought really knew me. My—my—best friend—she said—I—I—" Marinette couldn't continue, emotion clogging her throat.
"People can be deceived, Marinette. You may not wear a mask, but those around you might not recognize the others who are wearing one. But they will. You just have to give them a little time. They'll remember what they know about you, and they'll feel really bad about this then."
"What am I supposed to do until 'then' gets here?"
"Be you. Remind them, without words, that you're still the same person, still looking out for them, even when you're hurting. Isn't there anyone who saw through the lies?"
She shrugged. "Maybe? But no one was willing to stand by me publicly."
Chat winced. He had tried to get to Marinette several times today, but Lila always intervened somehow. He wanted to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, to be kind, but now that he saw the pain his politeness had caused Marinette, undoubtedly one of his closest friends, he was heartily ashamed at what she had seen as his abandonment, too. He would make this right.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her and hugged her close again. "Tomorrow will be better. You'll see."
She nodded against his chest, then leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Can you stay a little while, Chat? I—uh—this is—nice. I felt so alone today—and now—I don't."
"As long as you like, Princess. My schedule is clear." He smiled as he rested his cheek on top of her head. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."
For a while, he became lost in thought about what he could do tomorrow to fix the pain he had partially caused, even though it had never been his intention. Once he settled on what he thought would be his best option, he realized Marinette had fallen asleep in his arms. He stroked her hair a few times, enjoying the closeness, then gently tried to wake her.
"Princess, I hate to disturb you, but you'll feel better if you get some real sleep, in your bed."
She groaned. "I suppose you're right." She stood, then almost immediately lost her balance and would have fallen without his steadying her.
"Easy." He stood up as well, then wrapped her in another hug, giving her time to stabilize herself a bit. Even so, when she tried to move, she first tripped over his feet, then her own. He hadn't realized her clumsiness could get even more pronounced when she was tired. Chat caught her, then chuckled. "Want a little help, Marinette?"
He walked with her to the skylight window she used to access the balcony. Helping her sit with her legs dangling into her room, he dropped down onto her bed, guiding her down after him. She laid down and he pulled the covers up to her chin. With a whispered, "goodnight, Princess," he gently caressed her cheek and moved back toward the window.
Her hand reached out and grabbed his arm, sliding down it to take his hand and weave their fingers together. "Chat? Thank you. For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you being here tonight."
He looked down at their hands linked together and something hitched in his chest. For just a moment, he wished he'd come as Adrien tonight, that he could feel her skin against his. It was better this way, though.
"It was entirely my pleasure, Princess." And because he was Chat, he turned her hand so it was on top of his and kissed her knuckles before placing it back on the bed. Adrien could never have done that.
Her breathing had already evened back out. Without letting himself think about it too much, Chat leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "You won't have to face them alone tomorrow, Princess. Chat's honor."
It was not unusual for Marinette to run late; neither was it unusual for her mother to try to get her out the door on time with a little motivation. And this morning, in particular, she started the routine a little earlier than normal. "Marinette, you're going to be late if you don't come down. And you'll make your friend late, too."
Adrien waited in the bakery, a bag pressed into his hands by Madame Cheng that contained breakfast croissants for both he and Marinette. "Sorry, Adrien. It's nice of you to walk with her today. I just hope she doesn't make you both late."
"I got here pretty early. We still have time. Please don't worry about it."
Marinette came down the stairs. "Maman, what do you mean, make my friend late?" Then she saw Adrien. "Oh. A—Adrien. Hi. What are you doing here?"
"Hey Marinette! I thought we could walk together, if you don't mind. I wanted—to talk to you, if that's okay?"
"S-sure." She kissed her mom on one cheek, her dad on the other, then moved toward him. He tried not to be jealous of the way she and her family openly expressed their affection.
He opened the bakery door and let her walk ahead of him. They took a few steps in silence, then he stopped her. "Marinette, I wanted to apologize."
"What for?" But she didn't look at him.
"Yesterday. I didn't do enough. I'm sorry, Marinette."
She looked up at him.
"I should've stayed by your side. Spoken up. Something. Can you forgive me? Will you let me make it up to you?"
Her eyes began to tear up. "How?"
He reached down to pick up her hand, lacing their fingers together the same way she had last night. Adrien ignored her sharp intake of breath and the jolt of electricity that shot up his arm at the contact.
"We go in together today. And I don't leave unless you tell me to. No matter what anyone else says or does, Marinette, you will know you have someone beside you and completely on your side, all the way through this."
She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'd like that. Thanks."
He turned and began walking again, but didn't release her hand. In fact, he didn't plan on letting go of her until they took their seats in class, and maybe not even then, if he could get away with it. Even without words, touch would be a powerful reminder to her that she wasn't alone, and that he wouldn't leave her alone, ever again.