Disclaimer: I don't own Miraculous Ladybug. Which is probably a good thing, after writing this.
Also, I'm sorry. (I'm really not, though.)
Marinette's parents made her go back to school the first day it resumed, of course. There was no reason why she shouldn't, as far as they knew. And Marinette didn't tell them.
Schools in the area had been closed the three days following—well, five, but the last two days had been the weekend anyway—because the damage done to that area of the city had been extensive enough to make most streets too hazardous to travel. Sections of the metro system had also been affected, and the trains still weren't up and running yet—that would take a bit more time. But most of the roads were passable now, and the buildings that were unstable enough to cause concern had been demolished to prevent them from falling on their own.
Marinette hadn't looked at the Ladyblog once since that night. (Of course, she hadn't done anything, really.) But her parents had had the news on the whole rest of the week, and since she didn't have the energy to move, much less distract herself in any way, Marinette heard everything a given news anchor said. And while some of the coverage was about the damage, or casualties, the most common theme was the most painful one—
Why hadn't Ladybug fixed the damage?
No one knew why.
Marinette didn't know why, either.
All she knew was that she had tried.
Oh, stars, how she had tried. She had thrown her yo-yo into the air again and again until she couldn't lift either arm. She had screamed her own name (no, not her name, she didn't deserve it) until her throat was raw and her lungs were fire. But it hadn't worked. Nothing had worked.
Even Tikki wasn't sure why. She hypothesized it was because Ladybug hadn't had a relevant lucky charm to toss into the air, but she didn't really know.
Marinette supposed it didn't really matter, now.
School apparently mattered, though, at least to her parents. They had gently, patiently, ushered her through her morning routine. Her mother had selected an outfit (Marinette hadn't cared to choose one herself). Her father had cooked up her favorite breakfast (of which she'd eaten two bites). They had smiled and joked about Monday mornings and long weekends. They had offered to walk her to school, even, but Marinette had declined. She knew they were worried about how their daughter seemed disproportionately affected by the recent events. Being somewhat afraid of going out onto the streets again would have made sense, but not this . . . emotionless void.
Marinette left at her normal time; she didn't take the metro to school, so her route wasn't affected by the system shutdown. She didn't pay much attention to the other pedestrians, except to avoid walking into them. She figured they'd be going about their business as usual, like nothing was different, like nothing major had changed. And nothing had, as far as they knew. They would eventually, Marinette supposed, or they would guess, at least.
But for now, only she knew, and Master Fu knew. And the family—whoever they were—probably knew by now, though she couldn't be sure. Master Fu had said he'd go to them. She knew she should go, too, but she couldn't. Not yet. She couldn't face that yet. She wasn't ready to tell them how horribly she'd failed.
She doubted she'd ever truly be ready for that.
oOoOoOo
"Marinette! Hey, girl! What have you been doing?" Alya slid into her seat next to Marinette about ten minutes before class was supposed to start. "You haven't answered any of my texts or phone calls since Tuesday night! And of course with all the debris and the state of the streets I couldn't come check on you. I was so worried! Eventually I called your parents and they assured me you were fine, but dang, girl, don't do that!"
Marinette's lips twitched into a half-hearted, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Alya, I really wasn't thinking. There was just . . . a lot going on." Her voice was slow and halting.
Alya made a face. "Yeah, no kidding! This was the first time ever that Ladybug didn't fix the damage. I, of course, firmly believe that she tried and couldn't, for some reason, whatever it is, but there's a lot of people blaming her for it. I wish I could get in contact with her and ask her about it—as does every news reporter and her mother—but no one's seen her or Chat Noir since."
She paused, her eyes searching Marinette's face. Her friend had turned to gaze absently down at her desk, and didn't seem to be listening anymore. "Mari? Are you all right?" Alya's lips became a thin line. "I suppose you've heard about Adrien."
Marinette took a second to respond. She turned back to Alya, her eyes deep but empty. "Adrien . . . no. What about Adrien?"
Huh. That was odd. For one thing, Marinette was usually the first to know about anything to do with Adrien, and for another, Alya couldn't imagine that anyone or anything other than a certain blond-haired model could cause her friend to act this strangely.
"You really didn't hear? Adrien's not coming back to school. His father probably just wants to keep his son safe at home after the recent events or some such. We don't know if it's just for the time being or if it's a permanent thing. Even his fencing classes have been cancelled. Nino hasn't been able to reach him." Alya watched Marinette for some reaction—a screech of dismay or a dramatic collapse out of her chair onto the floor—but none came.
"Oh." Marinette's face didn't change, but her shoulders slumped and she turned to stare down at her desk again. "That's . . . too bad." Her voice was still emotionless.
Alya frowned. "That's it?"
Before she could continue, a pair of hands slammed down onto her desk. The noise made several people look over. "Hey, Loserblogger."
Annoyed, Alya faced Chloe. Marinette didn't move. "What do you want, Miss Prissy?" Alya growled.
Chloe sneered at her. "Before you get any ideas, I want to let you know I will personally rub your name in the dirt if you even think about posting anything accusing Ladybug. She's done a fantastic job of helping Paris up until now, and I happen to think that if she wasn't able to repair the damage this last time, there's a good reason for it."
Alya raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. "Well, you don't need to worry. I happen to be of the same opinion as you, for once."
"Oh, good," Chloe sniffed, and then her expression became a pout. "Of course, I am annoyed that the destruction caused my Adrikins to be pulled out of school. But not too much, since I'll still see him sometimes." She turned to look haughtily down at Marinette.
Marinette finally stirred, but didn't respond the way Alya thought she would. "You don't blame Ladybug, Chloe?"
"Of course not!" Chloe huffed. A couple more people had taken notice of the conversation; Chloe was never quiet, ever. "Ladybug wouldn't just abandon us if she could help it. Everyone else will come to their senses soon too, I'm sure."
A little bit of light came back to Marinette's eyes, and her lips twitched upward. Though Alya wasn't sure why this had such an effect on her, she could have hugged Chloe for bringing the change about. But Chloe was still talking.
"If anything, it's got to be that Chat Noir's fault. He's never been nearly as competent as Ladybug, and always just gets in her way. I don't know why she keeps him around."
It was like someone had flipped a switch. The new light in Marinette's eyes suddenly became a cold flame. She straightened up and leveled her gaze to meet Chloe's. "What did you just say?" she asked in a quiet voice that sent a chill down Alya's spine.
Chloe pulled back, slightly put off. "I said I don't know why Ladybug keeps him around. He's just a big screwup who constantly makes things worse. Ladybug doesn't even need him to cleanse the akuma. He's worse than useless. Ha, some hero. I don't—"
It was over before Alya could even react.
Marinette was over the desk in an instant. Her fist connected with Chloe's face and the blond girl staggered back, gurgling in shock. Before she had taken two steps, Marinette had pivoted into a crouch and swept her legs out from under her, landing her flat on her back.
Alya stared at her friend in shock. Marinette—clumsy, awkward, uncoordinated Marinette—had felled Chloe like a tree. Everyone was staring at them now.
"How dare you."
Marinette was still in a crouch, glaring at Chloe, who was still on her back, with more anger than Alya had ever seen in her gentle friend. Chloe's eyes, already wide with shock, widened more at the tone of Mariette's voice.
"How dare you say that about him."
Chloe began to push herself up, one hand covering the lower half of her face and blood starting to drip from beneath it. But her terrified eyes never left Marinette's deadly gaze.
"How dare you imply he isn't a hero. How dare you call him useless. How dare you call him incompetent. How dare you assume any of this was his fault!"
The whole class was surrounding them, watching, but no one made a move to help Chloe.
"I have never seen Chat Noir give anything less than a hero's best to defend Paris, which is much more than anyone can say for you. He's saved Ladybug's life more times than I can count, and is every bit as essential to this city as she is."
Alya had never seen Marinette like this.
"Were you there, Chloe? Did you witness the most recent battle?" Marinette let out a harsh laugh. "Well, I didn't either, I suppose. But I saw enough." She stood smoothly. "At let me tell you something." She towered over Chloe, who looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. "Chat Noir was the one who saved Paris, this last time. Ladybug had nothing to do with it."
And with that Marinette spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, passing a very flustered Mme. Bustier, who had just entered, and slammed the door. Running footsteps could be heard disappearing down the hall.
Sparing a single glance for Chloe—with Marinette gone, Sabrina had finally found the courage to go to her side—Alya turned and ran after her friend.
oOoOoOo
At least I'm feeling something again.
The first emotion she'd felt in almost a week had been a twinge of guilt when she'd realized how worried Alya had been about her. She hadn't even considered that. But that was nothing compared to the unbridled rage that Chloe's comments had invoked.
It was starting to rain now (of course it was raining, why wouldn't it be raining) as she fled down the street from the school. Not hard, yet, but enough to drip from her hair and mix with the tears streaming down her face. She heard Alya call her, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Maybe if she kept running, she would leave it all behind. All her memories behind. She knew it was stupid even as she thought it, but she still ran.
The floodgates had been opened. Whatever unconscious coping mechanism that had held her emotions at bay had been shattered. Close behind the rage had come the hate, the despair, the anguish, the grief, the shame and—as if her response to Alya earlier had been a foreshadowing—the agonizing, crushing guilt.
She wasn't sure how far she'd gone until she stopped, panting, gasping, leaning on the side of a building for support. She doubled over, hands on her thighs, driving the air from her lungs and pulling back in as much as she could, over and over.
"Marinette?"
She looked up towards the small voice, soaking hair falling over her eyes; her pigtails had come out during her mad run. Tikki hovered in front of her, large eyes deep and sad.
"Marinette, it wasn't your fault."
The girl let out a harsh, hysterical laugh. "Wasn't it?" She hiccupped, then continued. "Tikki, I—I know. I know there's no logical reason for me to take the blame. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like it's mine."
"Marinette…"
She closed her eyes. "Tikki, not now—please."
The little kwami, her own eyes wet, pushed up against Marinette's cheek in the best way she knew to give her wielder a hug.
One heartbeat, two, three, and Marinette straightened slightly and stumbled forward, one hand trailing the side of the building. When her fingers closed around the corner, she looked up to see if she could recognize where she was.
She did.
Green, black, red. A flash of white, a cheeky grin.
The square was still blocked off; the surrounding area had been the worst hit during the battle, and though it was mostly cleared, there was still work to be done. The place was deserted, though, perhaps due to the rain. Puddles riddled the square, along with some remaining debris, mostly around the edges. There hadn't been much in the middle part to begin with, anyway.
"Marinette!"
Alya's voice, farther back down the street, barely registered in Marinette's brain.
She still stood, braced against the building, eyes fixed on the dark stain near the middle of the square. The only reason it was wet now was from the water, but the mark itself was still there.
"Marinette!"
She stumbled forward, her limbs not her own, and staggered through the square until she reached the stain.
Took you long enough, Milady!
Collapsing to her knees, she barely noticed as Alya fell beside her and threw her arms around her.
"Girl, what is going on? What was that? You totally—you completely—" Alya's mouth worked, at a loss for words, before finding the ones to continue. "And then you just ran! Are you okay? I mean, you're not, you're obviously not okay, but what—Marinette, talk to me! What is wrong?" Alya's voice was rising in pitch. "Is it Adrien? Was it the attack? I don't—you—"
Marinette had squeezed her eyes shut, and, having registered that Alya was there, clung to her friend. She could feel Tikki move in her purse; the kwami must have hidden again as Alya approached.
"Alya, I—I can't do this."
"Girl," Alya said softly, "I don't have the faintest idea what you mean."
A dry laugh. "You're going to hate me."
"Marinette." Alya turned her friend's head to face her, brown eyes meeting blue. "Don't you ever think that, for any reason."
Marinette grasped Alya's hand, pulling it from her face to simply hold it. Closing her eyes again, she turned away. "Ladybug couldn't fix it," she whispered, "Because Ladybug wasn't there."
"What?"
Mooooom, Marinette groans. Pleeeeaaaase.
Come now, Marinette, a single afternoon with your cousins isn't too much to ask. We never take the time to go see them, even though they're only two hours away!"
Can't I at least have my phone?
Your friends can wait, dear. It's incredibly rude to be glued to your phone when visiting someone's house."
I'm never glued to it—!
"Not until the end, anyway. When the akuma first started to attack, when it decided to lay waste to as much of the city as it could, while it bulldozed its way through the streets—she wasn't there." A dry sob escaped her. "But Chat Noir was."
Alya shifted. "Then . . . Chloe . . ."
"No," Marinette said forcefully. "No. He held off the akuma. He distracted it, led it towards less populated areas, forced its attention away from civilians, evacuated the places it was heading towards. By himself. For hours."
She'd seen the scattered news footage, after, and she knew her partner. Her friend. Her . . .
"He figured out where the akuma was, but he never got an opening to go after it. Not without risking civilians. So he waited for his Lady. But she never came."
It's not until the way back that they catch wind of the attack. They hear about it on the radio first, an akuma like a giant construction machine, all glaring metal and flashing lights and incessant screeching. They can see the smoke a good distance from the city, and the traffic begins to stall.
Where is Ladybug? the news anchor asks. This is the longest attack so far—where is she?
"I mean . . ." Alya bit her lip. "I didn't actually see any of the attack. They weren't letting anyone near, even the actual news reporters. Even they only got minimal footage. And seeing the destruction after . . . I can see why they wouldn't let anyone through. It was the most devastating attack yet. We can't know Ladybug wasn't there, fighting it. It would have been too much for even the two of them together to stop easily."
"She wasn't there. Not until the very end."
So much destruction. So much. She's taken aback, though it can hardly beat the Eiffel Tower getting cut in half, can it?
She sees him, breathing hard, his tired green eyes brightening as they fall on her. He looks awful, blood smeared everywhere, every muscle trembling from exhaustion. The construction hat is in his hands; he'd finally managed to grab it. And now that she's here, finally, she can catch the akuma when he breaks it.
Took you long enough, Milady! I'm glad you're here. Though, I'd like to think I did a pretty good job of throwing a wrench in his plans!
"But by then, there wasn't anything she could do. By the time she got there, it was over. He was going to break the hat anyway—he knew the risks, but it was better than letting the akuma devastate more of the city and put more people in danger. She couldn't change anything, by the time she got there." She paused. "Except to make sure he didn't go alone."
The akuma knows its end is near. It takes a final, desperate swing. She doesn't see it.
His eyes widen. He slams the hat on the ground, shattering it. The akuma begins to dissolve, but not fast enough. He launches himself across the square.
Too tired. Too wounded. Too slow.
"Marinette, stop it!" Alya gently shook her friend's shoulder, as if to try and shake some sense into her. "Ladybug and Cat Noir are probably still recovering from the battle. Once they resurface, I'll—I'll get an interview. They'll let us know what happened. You can't know any of this!"
Marinette looked away again.
Inside her purse, Tikki gave her finger a squeeze. "It's all right, Marinette," she murmured. "You can't do this alone."
He tackles her. One impact, then another. She hears bone shatter.
She lands on top of him, cushioning her fall. The akuma is gone.
The butterfly flutters away. She doesn't care.
Marinette took a shuddering breath, then let it out. "But I can, Alya. This is your interview, because I know exactly what happened, I was there, and Chat—" Marinette's voice broke. "And Chat can't grant you one."
"Marinette—how—"
Chat . . .
So much. There's so much. Bone and blood and bruises.
He had been dying long before the final blow.
"Because I'm Ladybug, Alya. It was me, the whole time. Every battle, every interview, every time. It was me." Marinette, eyes red and watery, lifted her gaze to her dumbfounded friend. Tikki slowly slipped from the purse at her side, indisputable proof.
"I'm so, so sorry, Alya."
Tears, blood, golden hair.
I wasn't here—
You came . . . it's all right . . . you're here now. The hero . . . always comes.
You were the hero, Chat.
Alya froze in disbelief, her eyes fixed on the miserable red kwami floating in front of her, gazing at her with sorrowful eyes.
The akuma . . .
It's gone.
The victim . . .
He'll be all right.
"Chat Noir saved Paris that night, when I couldn't."
A hand, grasping weakly.
Please, don't . . . let go.
I won't.
"And I held his broken body in my arms as he died."
Sobbing, smoke, fading green eyes.
I love you, my . . . Lady.
Eyes close. Chest stills.
I love you too, Chat Noir.
The rain continued to fall, and they continued to sit there, the devastated friend and the shattered hero.
So uhhh ... I hope you liked it?
I honestly don't know where this came from. I haven't written fanfiction in years. But this fandom has swallowed me whole, and for some reason I felt the need to share this with y'all. I guess I have a lot of built up angst that I needed infuse into this light and fluffy show.
(I showed it to my sister first. I think she hates me now.)
Anyway, please do review! I'm not sure when exactly this is supposed to be set, just that it's anytime before the episode Sapotis, and after the start of season two, I guess, since Marinette knows Master Fu. I would appreciate any constructive criticism and other thoughts you have! Let me know of any grammar or spelling errors that I missed, or if anything isn't clear.
Thanks for reading my story!