Thanks for all of your kind reviews :) I most whole-heartedly appreciate them!

This picks up right after chapter deux.

Marinette lifted her eyes enough from Mom's quivering shoulder to see Chat Noir leaping away from the fight without a backwards glance for her. His hasty departure didn't bother her. He had hovered long enough after the battle. He had come in the first place. Her family was safe.

Still, she knew the line in his back, the arc of his shoulders. Instinct silently reminded her that she knew them as well as she had known he would catch her when she rolled over his back minutes earlier.

Chat Noir would wait for her call. He would hear her out.

Before that, though…

Dad led Mom and her into the house after they finished talking to the police, none of the questions too probing. Ladybug and Chat Noir were living legends at this point, and even the Police were grateful for the inexplicable solutions to their inexplicable problems.

How to get on with your life after being attacked my a mystical black butterfly, or the man who unleashed the creature, was one such turn-your-head-the-other-way situations.

Marinette wondered if her father was going to start crying at each step, eying him with open concern, a hand at his back. Someone else had been in his head, whispering and cajoling, egging him on to do things he would never have done. Well, sort of. The cakes had been pretty artful, actually…

She shook her head while Mom's expression was of decidedly sterner stuff. Storm-grey eyes watched her husband with concern but without the tinge of manic energy of Marinette's own vigil.

Inside, they closed the door, left the "closed" sign face outward and Mom's voice called, "Marinette, stay here for a minute, dear." She held back, hands at her sides as Mom ushered her quiet husband upstairs.

When she came back downstairs she cleared a path and wrapped Marinette up in a hug that she sank into. "He's going to be all right, sweetheart. Everyone else who has gone through this has been fine. He'll be fine."

She nodded, but there was no trust in her to allow her voice out. Would it crack or break altogether? So she kept silent, dropping her head on Mom's shoulder.

All too soon, the urgency she had felt for an hour came back, and she pulled away, "Mom, what happened?"

Mom pulled her around to the waiting stool behind the counter and sat on it. Marinette had not sat on her mother's lap for years, but she did so willingly as Mom's arms wrapped around her waist. She waited a moment, her eyes slowly skipping left and right as she gathered her thoughts, then she frowned and leveled a sagacious look up at her daughter.

"Didn't I tell you not to come home?" she wondered.

"Heh," Marinette chuffed, rubbing at the back of her neck. "Well, you also told me to stay with Alya, which is kind of like asking me to be in the middle of danger. You know how she can't stay away if Ladybug's around." To Mom's credit, she only nodded and rested her forehead against her daughter's shoulder.

"Darling, please be more careful in the future," she requested mildly.

Marinette smiled at her, knowing she would never be able to honor the promise truthfully. She also knew she was in less danger than most of the people of Paris, simply due to her ability to fight back.

"That's a hard thing to do when your family is in trouble," she said instead, slipping past the request the way Ladybug might have darted past one of Chat's flirtations. It felt familiar, and maybe a little dishonest, but Mom laughed.

It was a familiar puff of air against her arm and then she sat up straight, "Fair enough. It's much better to have a daughter who cares than one who doesn't."

Marinette's smile tumbled into a frown, and she quickly pressed her response, "I will always, always care, Mom."

Mom smiled softly and nodded. Marinette wanted to press her, to assure her of her feeling, but Mom asked, "How was lunch, dear?"

Marinette blinked, "What?" Images of a comfortable cafe and its cool breeze snapped into her mind. Adrien's smiling eyes waited at the edges. She slipped to her feet quickly, "What, no! Mom. No way." The cafe blended quickly into an Akuma and a dark rolling pin. "Tell me what happened with Dad!" Instead of trying to dissemble, Mom frowned and shrugged her shoulders, her eyes turning toward the back room.

"I didn't see most of it, honestly…" That was a mixed blessing. "We got off the phone with you and went back to finishing the inventory. By the time the deliverers unloaded everything back there, your Dad wasn't in the best mood, but he was working up a storm. A few minutes after they left he turned into that… thing." Mom frowned at the remembrance of it, one hand poised beneath her chin.

Marinette watched the uncertainty move through her mother and tried not to sag under the misery trying to crawl out her chest. Dad in a bad mood? It was so unusual, that it had to be her fault completely. Hawkmoth targeted people's negative emotions, and she had ricocheted her father into the villain's clandestine path with a flippant… a crush on a boy. No, her mind wailed, seeking absolution and justification, what she felt for Adrien was not just a crush… but she knew it was the truth.

Mom suddenly sat up straight, something like a smile on her face, "I don't know how it happened, but it's not the first time something like this has happened in the city. Many people have experienced this now, haven't they?" It was a rhetorical question, and Marinette held her peace. "So I don't blame Dad-" You should blame me, "but he changed. Then he threw some dough at me, which sounds strange, I know, but that's what happened… it made it a little hard to move, then he just went on that rampage. The dough at her shoulder had slowly crept its way over her like it might suffocate her, and Marinette tried not to weep at the mental image of her mother, gasping for air.

"Are you OK now?" she asked quietly, grabbing for a hand that Mom quickly gave.

"Oh, of course, darling, I feel fine," Mom said firmly. Marinette was not sure. Mom was… Mom. She was not young like Alya or Nino. What if she didn't bounce back?

"You don't want to call the doctor or something?"

"No, I don't think that's necessary. You know that Ladybug girl came and set things right."

"Yeah... and Chat Noir," Marinette added softly, remembering her partner with a swell of gratitude.

"Oh yes, him, too. But you know, everyone in Paris wears black. Red stands out so much more."

Marinette half-smiled, but the expression faded before Mom had even finished speaking.

This was her fault. If she had not been so focused on herself and what she could get out of the moment… This was just like the cake and everything that had happened with Chronogirl. Her parents had asked for her help and she had put her own selfishness first.

"Darling, we're OK now," Mom interjected, and she looked up in time to see her mother's fingers reaching for her face. Their soft familiar touch pulled at the frown dragging her lips down. "It's OK to feel sad, but I want you to really understand that we're OK."

"We don't know that Mom," she finally replied. "What if Dad…"

"Uh uh. Dad is strong. He's going to be fine. I know your father. I know my husband. He'll be OK. Besides, all of those other people who were transformed, weren't they OK afterwards? I'm one hundred percent certain the news would have said something salacious if they weren't. You, my precious one, don't have to worry anymore." Mom sighed suddenly and swooped forward to pull her into another hug, "I'm just glad you're OK."

Something inside her chipped, a fracture running out of her spirit and her heart and up into her rigid arms. She was not OK. Not by a long shot. Yet she was more OK than if Mom or Dad suddenly found out how much to blame she was. "We're okay, my darling." Marinette nodded silently while her throat tried to collapse in on itself. Hugging back was as much an admission of guilt as an acceptance of comfort.

They could not know. She could not take the condemnation, their disappointment in her, if they knew she was the one who had brought the attack on them, who had not done everything she could to prevent it entirely.

And Hawkmoth would keep coming. He would always be after her and Chat until he had the Miraculous. He could never have them. What would happen if Tikki was suddenly as evil as her father had been? With her power? With her capabilities? Until they resolved the threat, everyone around them would be in danger. So many of her friends had already been attacked. Now her family?

Her luck was finite.

It was touch and go, whether she might start crying, but a mundane topic helped her take another deep breath and relax. She was going to need to be stronger in the future than she had ever been before. Starting now.

"You said you needed help in the store today, right?" she asked, once her throat had loosened to a functional measure. She pulled away from Mom and smiled at her. "I'm not going back to school today. Let me help, okay?"

"Ah, sure. That's a good idea. It'll give us something to do while Dad naps. He'll be anxious to get back to work after he's rested a bit. At least the delivery finally came in… Speaking of which, we had to store some of the stock in your room. I hope you don't mind."

Managing a genuine smile, she shook her head, "Not at all, Mama. I'm here to help." Now I am, anyway.

"You are such a good girl. Let me get the clipboard and we can get down to business."

It was how she spent the rest of the day home from school, texting Alya that she would not be in tomorrow, either. In the kitchen, boxes lined the walls, stuffed with leavening, sugar, an entire case of liquid food coloring and another with gel-based and case after case of flour. The flour- wheat, bread, cake, white, filled almost every free space in the kitchen. It had taken less than fifteen minutes of searching and shifting boxes to realize how much help they had needed. Mom had said go to lunch, but in the end Marinette sided with Dad's view of things.

The memory of Thai food sat cold in her stomach, and she could barely remember what had made the need to go out seem so urgent. Flashes of Adrien's smile still warmed her, but they were cooled quickly by the equally vivid recall of Kingpin's shouting.

With both her and Mom working, they completed the inventory by supper. The sun had set nearly an hour before, and when Mom set the clipboard down, Marinette allowed herself to sag against a case of vinegar, her doffed feet dropping onto the sofa. Between the adrenaline, the fight, and the afternoon's work she was exhausted, but she felt little relief in the effort. Responsibility was much heavier than a box of flour.

The only thing that made her feel better was the sight of her father coming out of her parents bedroom, stifling a small yawn. His face brightened into a smile as she and Mom moved into his line of vision.

"What's for dinner?" he asked warmly, his hand dropping from his head almost sheepishly. Marinette laughed sudden and bright, throwing herself at him, only to be swept up into a hug. Her papa's arms were strong enough, it seemed, to carry her and all of her terrible guilt.

They ordered takeaway Chinese food from the restaurant Mom and Dad had met at almost twenty years before. Even maneuvering around the boxes, dinner was light- soup dumplings, scallion pancakes, and zha jiang mian, with Dad complimenting, "Heavy on the dough! Just how I like it!" They ate with easy laughter and smiles, maybe a little desperate for relief after the day's events. Marinette tried not to think about it too much. She would be thinking plenty soon enough.

After a round of movies that Marinette had never heard of, grainy, old things with washed out colors that were filmed before HD (her parents loved them so she kept her opinion silent), she finally felt comfortable retiring to her room as Mom and Dad said goodnight. It was a bit of a hassle to navigate the inventory, as tired as she was. She had never been particularly graceful.

When she crawled up to her bed, collapsing atthe ladder's last rung, Tikki was already there, reclining against the large, plush cat tucked into the corner. The small kwami seemed hardly tired at all, and Marinette smiled half-heartedly.

What would happen if Hawkmoth did ever get his evil pincers on the sweet, little creature? Marinette had let down her parents today, of all people… Was Tikki next?

Would her kwarmi be able to take care of herself without someone to assume the mantle of Ladybug? Sometimes the sprite seemed only a year or two older than Marinette, playful and generous and, always, always loving. At other times, she seemed much older. Despite her smooth features, Marinette knew Tikki was ancient. Older than 5,000 years was pretty old by human standards, but how long did kwami live? And did their age give them some kind of supernatural wisdom, some guard against evil? Something that would protect them against Hawkmoth? Or was Marinette and her will the only thing standing between danger and her guardian? Her friend…

"Are you all right, Marinette?" the person in question asked.

"Mmm…" she answered noncommittally. "Just thinking, Tikki." There was no reason to burden her with what she had brought on herself today.

Silence followed as the words floated between them. Everything had been so rushrushrush today, from the moment she had left home until tucking herself into her blankets.

"You did well today," the soft voice offered quietly. "You moved so fast to the fight, and you didn't even use the Lucky Charm!" Marinette smiled gently at the reminder, not sure how it mattered, but Tikki continued, "That means you're really becoming more in tune with your powers."

"Don't you mean your powers, Tikki?" she half-teased, but the response was more laughter around a soft shrug. Marinette smiled, at once comforted and distressed. If they were becoming more and more linked, it was even more imperative that she stop fooling around and start doing everything she could to protect those important to her. Tikki. Mom and Dad. Adrien…

"Ugh," she groaned at the remembrance of him.

Adrien, sweet and perfect, who had taken her suggestion for lunch… Who had readily admitted he had taken half of the eclair meant for Alya. He wasn't loud or boisterous or rude or egotistical. He wasn't a fighter or able to protect himself the way she could, and if she continued to hang onto him...

He was just himself. Kind and beautiful and…

"Marinette," Tikki gasped.

She hurriedly wiped her cheeks, then her nose and curled more tightly to her knees, "Tikki." The word was a hiccup. "I have to let him go."

1. WHAT?

2. If you think Tom and Sabine aren't making sweet, sweet love, you're doing it wrong (and that was a pun Chat Noir would j'adore).br /

3. Next chapter, more Adrien!br /

4. Please leave a review and let me know what you liked or didn't ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ