I woke with wings from lucid dreams, and knew the reason I felt hollow
Was that I may never know if there is some great truth or not
- Franz Ferdinand

It started as things so rarely do: with an explosion, and two teenagers dressed as animals being shot from the top of the Arc de Triomphe like a pair of ballistic missiles. There was screaming, there were civilians running, and more than a few city blocks had been more or less destroyed over the course of the last half hour. In fact, the famous gateway itself – a symbol of hope the world over – currently was cracking in half and crumbling to the ground.

For Chat Noir, this was Tuesday.

She ran repair that, right? He glanced at the Arc, now in more pieces than he could count. Mercifully, no civilians were in sight.

Eh, probably.

Chat extended his baton into the earth below and deftly caught his partner. When they were on the ground, he looked up to see the akuma heading back towards Pont Neuf in the center of Paris.

By the time Chat set Ladybug onto the ground next to him, gears were already turning in her head. Chat glanced at the broken Arc, cocked his hip and placed his free hand on it, "More like 'Oh no, Champs-Elysses', am I right?"

Chat could practically hear Ladybug's eye roll before her response. "The akuma's in the purse, I'm sure of it. If you distract her, I'm pretty sure I can get my hands on it." Her glance to her left contained a smirk. "What do you think, Alley Cat? How distracting can you be?"

Chat allowed a smile. Ladybug didn't often engage with their flirting, but he lived for the moments she did. "Well, you tell me, milady."

"Well, all that 'charm' has to work on someone, right?" Her words stung a little, but Chat knew there was no venom behind them. He pushed the rejection to the back of his mind and idly spun his baton between his fingers.

"You know, if you wanted a more first-hand view of-" Ladybug deployed her yo-yo and was away before Chat could even finish the thought. With a chuckle, he extended his baton and followed her over the rooftops, tracking the red streak as close as he dared.

She might never see him the way he wanted her to, but Chat knew he would never stop hoping, never lose sight of her. How could he? In this light she looked brilliant enough to block out the sun.

By 6:00PM, the Place de la République was absolutely filled with people, which was less than ideal.

Patric shifted nervously in front of the statue – the last thing in the world he wanted was an audience for this. He had always been so much more comfortable talking about his feelings in isolation, and primarily in the abstract. Talking about things privately was where Patric could be at home in his own skin, but when Maribelle had suggested they meet in public, it wasn't as if he could exactly turn it down. He'd longed for this moment for years, seemingly – for her to notice him at the office, to get an excuse to talk to her.

Hell he'd even dreamed about her. When she had texted Place de la République, his skin went cold, but what was he supposed to say?

"No! Just come to my house instead! It'll be a lot more comfortable!" Yeah, that was a one-way-ticket to never-seeing-her-again. Even he was socially adroit enough to know that wasn't a card to play on the first date.

This… this was a date, right? Embarrassed as he was to admit it, he wasn't totally sure still. He'd taken the time to write out a note with some things he meant to say to her in case he forgot. Just stupid things, like reminders of ways to express himself and what have you. Patric thought better alone, he always had.

A loud bark of laughter to Patric's left startled him, bringing him out of his reverie and letting him spot Maribelle as she emerged from the subway. He smiled nervously.

There was a canal nearby. Maybe that could be romantic…?

"Bye bye, little butterfly."

His beloved's name, a flash of pink, and Chat Noir watched in wonder as the world returned to the state it was supposed to be. Status quo victoriously swept back over Paris, and after some carousing with the press, Ladybug and Chat Noir were back above the rooftops.

Sun was setting, casting everything in an orange glow. Chat let his legs dangle over the edge of a building as Ladybug plopped down next to him, with an exhale. The release of her tension was palpable. He shot a smirk in her direction.

"Crime fighting got ya down, milady?"

Ladybug closed her eyes and leaned backwards to stretch her neck. "Honestly it's not the fighting that bugs me. We're here to help and I'd gladly do it a thousand times over."

"We already might have," Chat said. "I haven't exactly been counting."

Ladybug's neck cracked satisfyingly and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. "Oh, I'm sure we can check the Ladyblog for the most up-to-date statistics. That Alya girl sure is persistent," she muttered. Chat couldn't help but chuckle.

"Not much one for the spotlight?" he asked.

"Why are you used to it?"

Chat shrugged, silently chastising himself for the possible slip. Adrien was no stranger to the spotlight – he could scarcely remember a time when people didn't recognize his face. Chat, however? Well, Chat could be damn near anyone.

"I dunno about 'used to it'," he said, "but sometimes it's nice to be noticed."

As if on cue, there was an excited gasp below, and the two superheroes looked down to see a child pulling on their parents pant leg and pointing. Ladybug scrunched her nose adorably, smiling and giving a small wave.

Chat could tell that moments like this were fine, but she still seemed bothered by the implication. Even on a rooftop, things could still be seen.

"Well, if you ever do get used to it," she continued, "I wish you could teach me how. It's incredibly… gratifying to know so many people care, but a moment out of the spotlight would be nice. Well, even the press interviews afterwards, you know? Like, we're approximately ten seconds removed from mortal peril, and they expect us to stand there and…" Ladybug looked off, gauging her words carefully.

The sky had gotten bluer by the time she continued. "Heh, I dunno, Chat. I probably sound bitter. I'm not, I'm really not. I love doing this. I guess I'm always afraid I'm gonna say something…"

"…incriminating?" Chat finished her sentence. He nodded his head, knowingly. "Yeah, me too. Could you imagine if people knew who we were in real life? What a waking nightmare that would be."

"Really?" Ladybug stared at Chat, honestly surprised. "I mean, I always feel the same way but… Wow, I dunno, you always just seem so together in front of the press."

Chat raised his eyebrows as a devilish grin spread across his face. "Maybe that's because I find it im-paw-sible to feel on edge when I'm next to someone so amazing."

"…except when you're doing that."

Chat laughed, freely and heartily. "Fair enough, milady. Fair enough…"

A pleasant silence descended between the friends. Ladybug kicked her feet absently at the edge of the roof. To Chat, it looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how.

He wished so strongly, not for the first time, that he could have the privilege of knowing who Ladybug was beyond the mask. Even beyond the fact that he was completely smitten with her, it was at moments like this that he was painfully aware of the terrible paradox of their relationship: she was his best friend in the entire world, and she didn't even know his name.

Would it always be like this? Would they always return to status quo, like Paris after every attack?

Chat wondered if this was something he could really live with. He longed to know who she was, beyond the spots and the yo-yo. He longed to know if whoever that was would still be his friend if… well, if she knew. He thought they could be friends. Having a best friend removed from an unavoidable countdown would be nice.

Why did they even wear these stupid masks in front of each other anyway? What was a mask but a lie about who you really were?

Chat looked at the street below, lost in his own thoughts. That kid had dropped a candy wrapper.

When the time came to speak, they both began at once.

Ladybug giggled, which was a sound that let his heart leap, "You first, Kitty."

"No, Lady-bugs first. Please, I insist." Chat closed his eyes and put his palm out, as if he was inventing chivalry all over again. Ladybug smiled, too admittedly charmed to even chastise him for the terrible pun.

She took a breath, "You know, I was-"

Beep beep. Beep beep.

Ladybug let out a scoff, frustrated to have to cut her thoughts short. "It's never at a convenient time, is it?"

She looked at Chat, and he was struck again by how beautiful she was. In the evening light, to look at her was to fall into blue forever; to lose yourself in it like a favorite duvet. Most people probably didn't notice she had freckles, she usually moved so fast. Chat felt a blush creep to his cheeks.

"I… I think it's mine, actually," he said. "T-the beeping, I mean. It's my miraculous."

She pet his leg. "Then it's time for you to scurry back home, Alley Cat."

Ladybug stood, stretching again with a yawn. "Man, where even are we?" she mumbled to no one in particular.

"I don't have to, you know."

"Don't have to what?"

"Leave."

Ladybug looked down at her partner, and was surprised to find no trace of humor in his face. He… he was serious.

For the briefest of moments, Ladybug considered the full implications of the suggestion.

Then she shook her head. "N-no, don't be silly."

"I'm not joking, I can stay."

"Chat…"

"No honestly," he stood, face-to-face now with this woman who had defined the last year of his life, whose name he could only hazard guesses at. "This isn't a bad thing. What if something happens to one of us?"

"Chat, stop."

"No, really think about it: what if someone steals your miraculous, and I have to get it back or something?" Chat's voice was getting louder, more excited. "How will I know who it even belongs to? How would I keep you safe? I couldn't just give it to anybody, it would have to be y-"

"Chat."

There was an unmistakable command in her voice. This wasn't happening, she wasn't going to allow this to happen. Chat looked at her, and saw a determination in her eyes that was immovable, the same determination that had swept him off his feet all those months ago.

After a moment, her eyes softened. "Chat Noir, you are my best friend and my partner, and I understand the… the curiosity," she continued, almost a whisper. "But… we… I'm sorry, we can't. We can't ever."

Chat felt as if someone had taken his heart in their hands, broken it over their knee, and tossed the pieces to the ground.

He nodded.

"Right."

"…I'm really sorry."

"Right, of course."

"Chat…" Ladybug wet her lips, and continued, "it's not that I don't want to-"

"No, honestly, it's fine. I just thought it might be a good idea." He nodded again, and then put on a grin. Ladybug looked anything but convinced. "Don't worry about it."

A breeze lifted up around them. The rooftop felt positively chilly now.

"You… are you okay?" she implored. "I want you to be okay. This. Us." The sincerity in her voice was palpable. She might not be in love with her partner but she, you know, she cared for him. Probably more than he was aware of.

Chat was staring at something in the distance. Eventually he turned and gave another curt nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ladybug," he said, convincing no one at all. "I'll see you tomorrow." Chat Noir took out his baton from where it rested behind his back. He positioned it above the roof and turned to leave.

A soft pressure on his back stopped his ascent.

"H-hey, you. Just stop a second, I…" she started. Chat didn't have the courage to face her – he couldn't fathom what her expression could be right now.

The last rays of the sun were gone. Night had descended upon Paris.

"…I can't tell you who I am."

"I know, Ladybug. Like I said, it's not-"

"But… my name begins with an M. My real name."

Chat felt his heart stop.

"I… I really can't tell you more, but that's… I don't know, that's a piece of me, I guess. And that's a secret. And it's yours." Her hand flattened against the small of his back. She could feel his muscles through his suit, and she idly let her hand drift around down there. "I can trust you to keep a secret, right?"

Chat Noir turned around, smiling. "I would rather die than tell."

Ladybug returned the smile, her face red hot. "I'm sorry I can't say more."

"No," he said, feeling as though he wasn't standing, but flying. "No, it's perfect. Genuinely. Thank you."

Ladybug looked away, fighting back a smile. It was just Chat. It was just stupid Chat Noir. This was their every-day, why was she feeling so… warm about it all tonight?

Letting his fangs show for a moment, he had to prod: "How about a second letter, though?" Ladybug snickered despite herself.

"Pfft. No."

"If I guess right will you tell me?"

"Absolutely not."

"Madeline?"

"Goodnight, Chat." She giggled, even though she didn't want to give that smarmy cat the satisfaction. She pushed a finger into his chest. "You push your luck a lot, kitty..." She meant it as an accusation, but it certainly didn't sound it. After it was out of her mouth, Ladybug realized it sounded almost tender.

Chat reached up and grabbed her hand, to give it a squeeze.

"Only with you."

Ladybug felt an odd, pulling sensation tug at her chest, which she stamped down with as much authority as she could muster. This could never happen, she reminded herself. And why would you want it to? You like Adrien, don't you?

Don't you? Ladybug blinked and shook her head, taking her hand back out of his grasp. "Alright, but seriously this time. We should go."

-because I'm uncomfortable with how you're making me feel right now, being the unspoken second half to that sentence.

If Chat was aware of the agony he was putting her through right now, he gave no sign. He gave a million-watt grin and put his fingers up to his temple. His traditional farewell salute. "À demain, Em."

The pull again. Harder.

With a shocking clarity, Ladybug realized that she wanted more than anything to hear Chat Noir look at her the way he was right now and say 'Marin-'

FLASH!

Ladybug had never seen a green so bright or brilliant before.

She was so taken aback that she didn't even process that it was the same green as Chat's eyes. If she had been thinking straight, she would have covered her eyes. If she had been thinking at all, she would have turned around and faced the other way until Chat was safe and sound out of her sight.

But for once Ladybug was not thinking, and so she did nothing whatsoever to divert her view as the green glow faded and she found herself staring into the perfect face of Adrien Agreste.

Darkness had descended, and Patric was alone. He looked down at the Canal St. Martin and marveled at how placid it was. Water was an immutable fact. Water couldn't have its heart broken.

Christ, why had he bothered? How could he have been so naïve?

He had even told her about the dream, like a total idiot. There hadn't even been a reason to do that, he had just been so nervous that it had just kind of tumbled out. He'd written it on that stupid note paper he'd prepared, and he'd glanced at it when he was in the bathroom at one point and…

Patric sighed. He had no idea how he was going to face Maribelle in the office on Monday. There was no coming back from this, he was sure.

She'd… she'd never speak to him again…

Patric put his face in his hands and fought back tears, willing himself to at least not suffer the indignity of crying in public. Patric stayed like this for several moments, completely unaware of the black butterfly descending upon the note still crumbled in his hands.

He did not look up, he did not see it. He wouldn't have known what it meant even if he had.

"No."

The word was whispered, barely audible over the night chill blowing by the rooftop.

Adrien couldn't place the look on Ladybug's face at all. She looked surprised, certainly. He was surprised too – he should have been more careful with the warning signal, of course. No, the surprise seemed appropriate, what didn't was that she also looked… scared?

"No," she repeated. Adrien didn't think she was talking to him, but he also wasn't sure she was aware that she was speaking whatsoever.

He spread his arms a bit and attempted a smile. "Um… surprise?" Adrien felt an utterly exhausted Plagg fall into his pocket, too tired to even make any quips about cheese. "That was… that was my kwami, Plagg," Adrien muttered by way of explanation.

Ladybug remained frozen in place, still with that same look of shock and horror and confusion. When she finally moved, it was to shake her head.

"No. That's not possible. That's… completely unfair."

"I'm sorry," Adrien began, looking at the roof. "I'm… Ladybug I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen."

"N-no, I… I know you didn't."

"I really thought we had more time befor-"

"It's okay." Her voice sounded like a television whose volume had been turned down too low.

Adrien looked up at her, but the warmth that had been behind the blue mere moments before was replaced with a cold sort of fear. What was she afraid of? Did she-?

Adrien's brow furrowed, and he took a tentative step towards Ladybug. "Wait, wait do you know me? Like, in real life?"

Silence. Absolute and definitive, and lasting far too long.

After an eternity, Ladybug shook her head 'no'.

"Billboards," she muttered, once again as if to herself.

Adrien sighed. Of course. She must just think he's some vapid, self-obsessed rich kid. It hurt him to know that could be her take on all this. Ladybug had always ribbed him for his bad jokes and advances, but she'd always known him to be capable – to have her back. They were partners and they were equals, and they both knew that.

If she doubted that now because of some stupid modeling career…

He banished the thoughts from his mind. Trust could be rebuilt, given time.

"Look, I apologize again," he began, "I know this isn't how either of us wanted this to happen, but… well it has. Let's make the best of it." Adrien stepped towards her, extending a hand. "My name is Adrien Agreste. May I have the pleasure of knowing my lady's true nam-?"

"I have to go."

What? Adrien stared blankly at the implacable face of his partner.

Ladybug didn't offer any sort of explanation. Adrien's hand hung limply in the air between them.

"Um…" Adrien was completely lost for words. This was his nightmare, this is what he had hoped against hope would never happen. He blinked back the tears in his eyes. They were not yet here, but seemed to be threatening to make an appearance at any second. "I mean… I mean, you don't have to tell me, but…"

He cleared his throat, hoping it wasn't too obvious what was giving his respiratory discomfort. "I'm sorry, Ladybug did I… did I insult you or something? It's… I mean, sure I'm a model or whatever, but it's still me, you know? It's still your Chat. My name it… it doesn't change anything between us, right?"

Adrien searched his partner's face for any hint of meaning, but the blue gave no quarter.

"I have to go right now."

Ladybug turned and started swinging her yo-yo before Adrien could even process.

"Wait." This is a dream. This is a nightmare. "Wait, no, Ladybug!"

"I'm sorry," was the only explanation she gave before the yo-yo had hooked onto the next building, and carried her off into the night.

"Em! Wait!" Adrien called after her silhouette, but she was already gone. And for once, the boy who was Chat Noir couldn't even see her for the darkness.

For a long time after that, Adrien stood on the roof, unmoving and silent. Whatever thoughts he had were his own.

Eventually, he walked over to the fire escape and made his way down to the waiting streets below.

Even with overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had never considered herself to be spectacularly interesting in any way. She had never felt she had much to be proud of.

For truly, what was there to recommend about Marinette, aside from her clandestine exploits as Ladybug? She was clumsy, she was hardly a stellar student, and she got so tongue-tied around her crush that every time he was in eye-shot, it was as if she forgot the French language entirely.

Even with all these obvious faults, Marinette had actually found herself complimented quite often on her relative maturity. Whenever the subject came up, it wasn't uncommon for people to suppose that the young seamstress was closer to her twenties than her single-digits. It was a stretch to call it pride, but the girl was at the very least aware this was some kind of compliment, and she took 'maturity' as one of the few things that maybe Marinette Dupain-Cheng had figured out.

Right this second, however, she felt every second as young as her 15 years. Fifteen and seven months, the back of her brain chimed in, and not a moment older.

Currently, she stood alone in the sanctuary of her room, hand over her mouth and eyes wide as fear itself.

Tikki hovered nearby, stroking the back of one of Marinette's hands in what she hoped gave some sort of comfort.

"Hey so," Tikki began, "Did you want to… talk about it?"

Marinette covered her eyes with her hands and collapsed to her knees. "I'm so stupid!" Grabbing the nearest pillow, she buried her face and let out a scream of frustration.

Another followed quickly afterwards. Tikki waited patiently for her charge to navigate her way back to human words again.

"H-huh-how? HOW?!" Marinette leapt to her feet and started pacing frantically.

Tikki took a seat on the desk, near the cat pillow. All of the girl's spastic movements were starting to make the kwami dizzy.

"You mean about-?"

"About everything, Tikki! What just…what just happened?! How- what did I do?! How did any of that just-?!" Marinette did several small reversals of movement, looking frantically around her room for something. "It couldn't - wait, I fought… I went to school today, you know I have – did I have to read a book this weekend? God, I probably have homework. Tikki, did I do my homework yesterday?"

"I… I have no idea."

"I probably didn't," Marinette continued, just as scattershot and disparately as before.

Tikki watched as her movements got even more erratic. "Marinette?" she began.

"Man, I'm always so behind on homework, you know," a mirthless laugh, "it's funny how that stuff just creeps up on you. Do you ever have homework, in like, kwami-school?" tripping over a chair "What are you, in – man, where did I put that thing?" supplies and designs spilling across the floor. She was on her hands and knees, rifling through something under her bed in search of god-knows-what. Tikki floated towards Marinette, now truly appearing for all intents and purposes like someone in shock.

The following paragraph in shuddering, uneven breaths:

"I – I actually – I mean, I meant to show you this before, but you were – I don't know you were out or something and I – I think I just forgot or whatever, and I thought it was a cool design and I thought you might like it. I don't know, it's dumb I guess, I don't even know if you can wear clothes or anything, but I thought it would be nice to maybe… I don't know, to maybe…"

Marinette finally stopped thrashing around in her room and let her breathing slow down. When she finally looked at Tikki, the kwami smiled at her, sadly.

"I didn't know it was Adrien," Tikki said, "I had my suspicions, but I didn't know. Not entirely. If I had, I would have told you."

Marinette stared blankly at her friend.

Finally, she nodded.

Then she burst into tears. Collapsing forward, Marinette wilted entirely. She grabbed the pillow from the floor in front of her and pulled it to her chest. She wrapped both arms around it and held it closely, closing her eyes and burrowing into darkness.

A sob escaped her lips, followed by another. "I'm so stupid!" she screamed.

Tikki flew down, in the small space between Marinette and the pillow, hoping that any of her warmth would be a comfort to this amazing young woman who thought so little of herself. She placed a hand on Marinette's cheek and let the girl cry it out of her system.

"I'm so stupid, Tikki," Marinette whispered in the darkness. "I'm so, so stupid…"

The man who was Patric stood beside the statue in the center of the Place de la République. He breathed deeply in his lungs, flooded with unknowable power.

It was late now – Paris slept deeply.

The Somnambulist spread his arms and realized he could feel them. He could feel the dreams of the people around him, he could open their thoughts as easily as picking a book off a shelf and paging though it.

Let them sleep then, he mused. Let them all sleep forever…

"Yes," whispered a voice from somewhere, "yes! If they dare to dream as you did, then let their dreams capture them forever. But don't forget what I need. I need the miraculouses. Bring me the miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir, and I will let you rule the world of dreams for the rest of time!"

If you had asked The Somnambulist, he couldn't have told you where the voice came from, nor could he have told you why the next words out of his mouth were in agreement with it.

Maribelle first. Then Ladybug and Chat Noir, whoever and wherever they were. Surely their dreams would reveal them, in time…

Unbidden by any external stimulus, The Somnambulist began to laugh. No one heard him, though.

Paris slept and slept and slept.

Marinette sat in her room, looking and feeling as though her day had lasted a thousand years. Tissues sat scattered around, used and discarded.

She sniffed loudly and glanced at Tikki. The poor thing had comforted Marinette more than any person could have, but eventually even kwamis need sleep. Marinette smiled and stood up to stretch and yawn. Thankfully tomorrow was Saturday – she could sleep in a bit, if not enough.

She had… wow, she had really messed everything up. She knew she had hurt him, probably pretty badly, and she felt terribly about that. She would have to make it up to Chat Noir somehow, she had just been so overwhelmed in the moment.

Marinette flinched at the memory. Chat had looked so crushed. Betrayed.

Adrien, she reminded herself. You hurt Adrien, actually. Somehow the thought made everything worse. She'd see him in school, she'd see him on patrol, he was all over her walls for God's sake…

Marinette rubbed her eyes and crawled into her bed – her blessed, soft bed. She would have to make it up to him, somehow. She would have to tell him something.

Not her name though. No, that was completely off the table now. She even regretted telling him the letter. How would Adrien react if the incredible superhero Ladybug took off her mask to reveal shy, stuttering, I-sit-behind-you-in-homeroom Marinette?

Ladybug was miraculous. Marinette was a fifteen year-old girl.

There was nothing miraculous about that.

Marinette let her thoughts roll around in her brain, feeling hopeful that when she woke up tomorrow, she'd have figured out how to save her closest friendship from the brink of destruction. He was probably asleep by now, too.

There was nothing more to do about it tonight, and tomorrow wasn't far away. All that separated her from the morning were some dreams.

Marinette closed her eyes.

A/N: Part one of a planned five, but I warn you all now that I'm famously terrible at keeping schedules, so let's see how far I get. Haha!

j/k I'm gonna finish this. I swear it here upon this end note, and end notes CANNOT lie.

Hope you all enjoyed.