A/N: Um... hi, guys! Remember me?

I know you probably aren't interested in excuses, but I feel like I should explain anyway. At first, I took a break from updating because I finally felt inspired to work on this other writing project I've been sitting on for like two years. After a couple months I was going to come back to fanfic—I even pulled out all my notes for this story and everything... and realized my plan for this fic is, in fact, holier than Swiss cheese.

It's not even a plan, really. I have no plan and I don't know why I ever thought differently.

But I didn't want to leave you all hanging, so I've been trying to figure out how to plot the rest of this story for months now and failing miserably. And you know what? Screw plans. I ship it; you ship it. Let's sail this thing into the abyss and see where it takes us.

So that's what's been happening on my end. Now, the chapter.

"She's gone!"

Ladybug spun at the faint sound of her partner's voice—just in time to see Cat Noir miss the edge of the rooftop where she was waiting. Only a lightning-fast flick of her yo-yo saved him from a painful collision with the ground.

"That was close," she sighed, hauling Cat up to safety and offering a hand to help him to his feet. Then she noticed his expression. "Hey, are you okay?"

Cat was bent over, trying to catch his breath, and didn't reply.

Had he rushed back just to meet her or something? Was he planning to straighten up and make some flirty comment about how he couldn't stand to be so far apart? Well, it wouldn't be the first time. She braced herself for the same annoying routine, ready to roll her eyes and bite back a laugh (on the off-chance he made a rare good joke) and deflect like always.

But no punchline came. He was just doubled over, taking deep breaths—even though, knowing his stamina, he ought to have recovered by now. He shouldn't even have to recover from normal patrolling; patrols were the easy part of their job.

"Cat," she said, "what happened? You look like you ran a few laps around the city."

"Three," he mumbled.

Was that a joke? She opened her mouth to banter back—then realized he wasn't kidding.

With one last, shuddering breath, Cat stood straight and looked her right in the eyes. "I need your help, my lady."

She was getting a bad feeling about this. "With what?"

Cat started talking a mile a minute. "So I know I said I wouldn't make any stops—and I'm sorry, really, I really wasn't going to—but there was this one friend I really had to visit, and I did, but the door was open and the light was on and she wasn't there and I think she's out in the city somewhere and I looked and looked but I can't find her and I think something happened—"

She couldn't hear a word after that over the roar of panic in her mind.

No.

Nonononononono, this was not happening.

This could not be happening.

She should've suspected something would go wrong, she thought dazedly. Things had been going so well lately, trash can incident excluded: Adrien was talking to her more, Cat was hanging out almost every night, and there hadn't been an akuma attack in forever. It obviously couldn't last. Now Cat was going to figure out her secret identity and her life—her double life?—no, both of her lives would be over.

For a second, a small, optimistic part of her wondered if it would really be so bad. Cat finding out she was Ladybug, that is. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about her secret—about the responsibility weighing on her every day. It's not like he would tell anyone, and he'd obviously done a pretty good job of keeping his own identity a secret.

Seeing her for what she really was might even help him get over his crush already. Maybe then she could joke around with him and enjoy his company as Ladybug without worrying that she was giving him false hope or something.

But that happy fantasy fell apart almost as soon as she'd thought it. Telling each other their civilian identities was a terrible idea. If one other person knew, even if it was someone trustworthy, they'd be bound to talk about it together—and then someone might overhear them, and if word got around it could eventually reach Hawkmoth's ears and then they'd both be in danger and their families and friends would be in danger and there'd be a hostage situation and the city would be destroyed and life as they knew it would fall apart and it would be all her fault.

Not to mention the mere thought of having to tell him made her blood turn to ice.

So, yeah—she should probably come up with a plan. Or at least do something other than stare into space and hyperventilate.

Distantly, she heard Tikki's voice in her head. Marinette! Mari—Ladybug! Snap out of it!

Ladybug. That's right—she was Ladybug, at least right now. Ladybug always had a plan. She could make a plan that would fix this. A flash of inspiration would hit, like always, and she'd know what to do.

Any time now. Any time...

Oh god, she couldn't think of a plan. Her brain had short-circuited.

Can't you just go home? Tikki said.

Huh?

Then he can meet Marinette and see she's okay.

Oh! She probably should've thought of that. Thanks, Tikki.

Happy to help.

She put on her most authoritative expression and turned back to her partner. "Hey, Cat."

He was muttering to himself about akumas and crooks and muggers and streets with uneven cobblestones, head cradled in his hands and eyes wide. She could twist an ankle on those cobblestones if she wasn't careful, especially in the dark, and then how would she get home? Wait, how would she run away from the muggers? And the akumas! And akumatized muggers!

"Kitty?"

No response.

"Cat Noir!"

Cat blinked at her, lifting his head slightly.

"Calm down, okay?"

"But… she's missing."

Ladybug sighed. She'd be touched by his concern, if it wasn't threatening to mess up her lives. "You're jumping to conclusions. This friend of yours might just be on an errand, or—I don't know, maybe she was in the bathroom. An open door does not make someone missing."

"She shouldn't be running errands now. It isn't safe!"

She raised an eyebrow. "And what do you want us to do about it? Search the entire city for one girl who might not even be in trouble?"

She winced as Cat shot her a surprised, wounded look. It was for his own good that she wasn't offering to help. If Ladybug was part of the search team, they'd never find Marinette.

Time to put Tikki's plan into action. "Look," she said, "I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I have something really important to do after this. But we can end the patrol early today so you have more time to search for her, if that's what you really want to do." She paused a beat, trying to figure out how to suggest it just the right way. "Except… did you ever go back to her house after the first time? She might be back from whatever she was doing by now. You might be worrying over nothing."

It took a second for her words to sink in. "You're—you're right," he muttered. "You're right, my lady, I didn't even think of—thank you. I'll go check right now!"

"Now?" Ladybug yelped. Cat was already leaping away.

For a moment, she could only stare after him as her heart plummeted to her toes. Then she sprang into action. Her yo-yo was a blur as she rocketed through the rooftops of Paris, desperately racing to beat her oblivious partner home. Over rooftops, through alleyways, sometimes running but mostly swinging, thinking of nothing but where to throw the yo-yo next. She hadn't even known she could move this fast. Still, it felt like an age before she landed on her terrace in a crouch and practically dived into her room, her transformation falling away as she went.

Thank god Cat hadn't locked the door on his way out.

She shut it now and turned, leftover adrenaline muddying her thoughts. She should sit down somewhere, right? That sounded good. Somewhere he could see from the window, so he'd see her as soon as he approached the building. Maybe the desk?

She sat heavily and groped blindly for her sketchbook, then flipped to a new page with hands that shook a little. Tikki had already made herself scarce, so that was one less thing to worry about; now she just had to wait. Draw and wait, until… actually, how would she know when he'd seen her? There wasn't really a reason for him to come inside. He'd probably just swing by, spot her in the window, and turn around again. That would be best. Then she wouldn't have to make up some story about where she'd been.

She glanced up and, with some surprise, realized those sketches from the other day were still papered over her Adrien photos. Maybe seeing his face would help her calm down? It usually did—provided it was a picture and not the actual boy.

Funny how that worked.

Just as she was reaching out to uncover the pictures, there was a pounding on her terrace door that almost gave her a heart attack.

She jumped up and hurried over to the terrace, trying to breathe normally and failing. She wasn't ready for this, she was not ready to face him—

She opened the door anyway and was almost nose-to-nose with a disheveled, wide-eyed Cat.

"Marinette," he breathed. Then he just stared at her for an uncomfortably long time.

Her heart was hammering in her throat; she could barely force words out around it. "Cat. Um—"

"I'm coming in."

She jumped back as he entered, still not quite sure what was going on. Why was he here? Why was he inside? What about—

"Cat!" she hissed, sudden realization dawning. "Cat, you can't be in here. My parents are downstairs! What if they come up?"

Cat glanced at her, face unreadable. Then stalked over to her desk, snatched up the doorstop he'd given her before, and stormed over to her trapdoor—only to halt as he realized that… well, that it was a trapdoor. He looked from the hunk of plastic to the door and back a few times. Half-crouched and tried to wedge it in the crack anyway. Stared at it. Realized it wasn't going to do squat.

Then he tossed the doorstop to one side and plopped down cross-legged on top of the trapdoor.

Marinette was starting to wonder if this was some kind of stress-induced hallucination.

"There," Cat said, folding his arms. "Now where were you?"

"What?"

"When I was here earlier and you weren't!" He glared. "Where were you?"

"I don't..." He was angry. Why was he angry? He hadn't seemed angry earlier—just worried.

"Did you sneak out or something? What were you doing? What were you thinking?" His voice got louder with each question.

"Cat, stop yelling—my parents might hear!" she whispered, her voice an octave higher than usual.

"Your parents," Cat repeated, somehow not noticing that she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Still, he lowered his voice like she'd asked. "Do they know you were missing earlier?"

"I wasn't missing," she told him, avoiding his question. "I just... had something important to do." There. That wasn't even a lie.

"At this time of night?"

"I—"

"Alone?"

She couldn't help rolling her eyes, her feelings a strange combination of unsettled, amused, and offended. "Down, kitty. I can take care of myself."

"But—"

"Cat, shhh! I wasn't alone, okay?" she said. "I was with… a friend. A good friend."

"Who?"

She bit back the "You!" on the tip of her tongue, her anxiety quickly being replaced with frustration. Why couldn't Cat just take her word for it? Why was he asking her all these questions she couldn't answer?

"It isn't any of your business who I was with," she told him sharply. "And how do you even know I wasn't here? Were you snooping in my room?"

And didn't you tell me no stops? she remembered. Ladybug said no stopping, and you agreed. You promised!

"Uh," Cat said, taken aback by her sudden vehemence. "Well—"

"Who gave you the right to barge in here and give me the third degree?" She folded her arms. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

Cat looked like he was dying to argue, but couldn't figure out how. Ha. Finally he said, very quietly, "I was worried."

"That's no excuse!"

He frowned. "Do you want me to not worry when my friend is missing?"

Well… it would be easier that way? No, she couldn't say that. "I wasn't missing! I went out with someone for a little while! It wasn't a big deal."

Now Cat was getting agitated, too. "If it's not a big deal, why can't you tell me who you were meeting?"

It was you, stupid cat. "Why can't you butt out!" she retorted. And for one silent second it seemed like he was going to, but then—

"Were you out with your crush?"

She choked. He obviously hadn't meant to imply that she—that she and he—but he had, no matter how accidentally, and—

And, in the first place, how dare he use their conversation yesterday as some kind of weapon? She'd confided in him. She'd shared her stupid embarrassing story and told him her deepest darkest fears about her ridiculous one-sided love, and now he was using it against her?

Had she been with her crush, he asked.

"No!" she spat. "No way!"

"Then why can't you just tell me who it was?"

"Why do you need to know?" she retorted. "I don't go around asking you personal questions."

Cat hesitated. "That's... different."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I can't talk about personal stuff. It's a secret identity thing." His eyes narrowed. "You being missing is completely different."

It was almost funny how wrong he was. "It's not, really."

"It is. I can't talk about some things, but you just won't talk."

"Because I can't."

"No, you won't."

"I can't."

"You won't."

"Can't."

"Marinette—"

"I SAID I CAN'T!"

Her voice came out louder than she'd intended, startling them both. Cat recoiled; she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Then she heard movement downstairs.

Her stomach lurched, visions of discovery and disaster flashing before her eyes. She was so close to making it through this nightmare of a night without anyone suspecting her secret. She couldn't blow it now.

"Get out, Cat," she whispered.

"But—"

"Out!"

Cat flinched. For a moment, he looked a stray kitten—small and hurt and lost.

Then his face went strangely blank. He stood up, turning his back on her, and stretched languidly before crossing the room with slow strides. He began sauntering up the stairs as if he had all the time in the world, glancing back at her every few seconds to make sure she was watching. The cheeky, arrogant—

Footsteps from downstairs. She wasn't sure if her heart had stopped or was beating too fast to feel. "Hurry! Go!"

"I'm going, Princess," he drawled, turning the familiar nickname into an insult with a dismissive flick of his tail.

It felt like a cold knife in her chest.

She scowled and stormed up the stairs behind him, forcing him to pick up the pace. "I said, get. Out!"

He didn't dignify this with a response. In silence he went out to the terrace; she slammed the door behind him without watching him go. For a moment she just stood there, rooted to the spot, staring unseeingly at the wall.

She heard the footsteps stop somewhere below her door. "Marinette, honey? Is everything all right? We heard you yelling."

No. "Yes," she called. "Sorry, I just… I was frustrated, and... I messed something up."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She almost laughed. As if she could talk about this with her parents. Or Cat. Or… anyone, besides Tikki.

If she could, she wouldn't be in this mess.

"I'm okay, really," she said.

"Alright. If you change your mind, we're right downstairs."

"I know," she said. But she knew she wouldn't change her mind.

Marinette listened as the footsteps retreated, then flopped down face-first on her bed and let out all her confusion and anger and regret in a wordless scream—muffled by the pillows, so no one would hear her this time.

She'd known letting Cat come over was a bad idea. She'd called that one, right from the start—and now he probably knew it now, too.

He probably wouldn't visit again.

She felt a light weight settle on her shoulder and knew it was Tikki offering silent comfort. It was a kindness—even if Tikki had talked, she had no words to offer in return. How could she even begin to describe this night?

How had everything gone so wrong so fast?