Emma Agreste feels like she's drowning, gasping for air when there is only water around her.
Her fingers gasp for someone that is no longer there, and her cries get stuck in her throat, she screams when there is no one to hear.
The ground under her is cold and wet, her eyes are open but she can't see. She hears but she doesn't listens.
There is a voice. There is a flash of red in front of her, but she can't move.
"Isn't she beautiful, Adrien?"
"Of course she is. She's ours"
She had been blinded by hate. She had felt so much anger-at herself, at them, at everyone and everything that dared to get too close- she's afraid now, afraid to love, afraid to let someone get close.
"What was mom like?"
"She was…perfect. She was confident, and smart, and kind. She was beautiful, Emma"
"Did you love her?"
"Of course. She was more than just my wife. She was my best friend, my partner. She was my other half"
He's yelling at her, to get up and to run away. To do something.
She can't. There are tears pooling at her eyes, and the black spots are familiar to her tired eyes, and she wants the warmth that only she could provide, the gentle hands that wiped away tears and the soft lips that kissed her scraped knees.
It's worse for Louis, she guesses. He had had more time with her; he had loved her for so much more time it seemed unfair.
How could someone compare seven years of memories to five years of distant feelings and words that time took away?
She has her father, of course, and he loves her like no one else could ever and yet with time Emma knows that most of his smiles are just lies very well concealed.
He misses her, that much is clear, but how could someone not, with the way Aunt Alya speaks about her as she brushes her hair out of her eyes and whispers how much she looks like her.
How could someone not miss her mother, with the way Uncle Nino smiles over his glass and looks to his father, waiting for a reaction that no longer happens.
"She has your hair"
"But those are your eyes, and your smile, Princess"
She's tired of seeing someone else on the mirror, and that ring is her salvation.
It is air when she's drowning and everything seems like too much. The mask helps her, and every time she wore it she no longer looked like her, and suddenly there were no whispers of how much she looks like a death person.
She's Chat Noir, and she's making a name of her own, no longer the daughter of Marinette Dupain and Adrien Agreste.
She loves her mother, even if there are not many memories of her in her mind and too many on that house, but she starts feeling like she's a cheap replacement, someone that would never be good enough.
Her father ask about her ring one evening while they are eating, and she looks down as she whispers a lie through her teeth. He seems convinced, but he warns her to be careful out there and she wonders, for a passing second, how much he truly knows.
She tries to ignore her bother, who pushes his long hair in front of his ears and looks away from them.
"I'm Chat Noir. Girl, this time"
"I'm Ladybug. Boy"
She's angry, because it has been exactly eleven years and her house is suffocating her, the air not enough for her to breathe and she needs out.
She's jumping from roof to roof, Plagg being the only company she really need, with his snarky remarks that make her laugh and his strange way of caring. She doesn't notice the villain, the akuma influence too new for her to notice and too familiar for Plagg to do anything but alert her as fast as he can.
"I met you mother, years ago"
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, good girl. But you're more like your father"
"You knew him too?"
"More than a lot of people, but probably less than you mother. You don't exactly look like him, but the way you act…he felt kind of trapped too"
"I never would have guessed. He doesn't really speaks of his father"
She had slipped. She's the embodiment of Bad Luck, she shouldn't feel surprised; she is part cat and yet she can't land on her feet, her hands slipping from the roof as she tries to save herself.
Plagg is somehow screaming in her head, his voice more caring than ever before and she swears there are more voices, distant as everything else.
The green eyes are home and nice afternoons, the heat of the fire and bad puns that make her snort in her drink.
They are Louis and her father, and their hands are so very soft she doesn't want to let go because she's so very cold.
She wonders how she didn't notice before, as her rings beeps and her transformation wears off, her little Kwami exhausted as he lands at her side and begs for her to answer.
She's slipping away, her limbs numb as she fights the force that is closing her eyes when she notices the tears on their eyes and the guilt that is slowly starting to eat her away.
She's closing her eyes when she hears a distant voice and feels the warmth that she had seek for so many years.
"Hey, girl. Why are you crying?"
"What are you? And why do you care?"
"Because you remind me of someone I really cared about, and I don't like people I care about crying"
"Oh, please. Now you are going to tell me she was called Marinette and she was wonderful and so nice and oh, I look like her, right? Sorry but I am not her"
"I don't think you are like her. I'm Plagg. I can help you"
"I'm Emma"
"I know"