I didn't go home. Instead, I did what I always do when I feel trapped. I wandered alleys, hid among gargoyles of Notre Dame, and raced across rooftops. Just me, the suit, and a beautiful, clear sky. Though the fact that I was alone didn't seem to fully register in my senses. I caught myself glancing over my shoulder. Every flash of red was a reminder that my partner, my lady, was not at my side.
I knew I'd messed up. To say I was irritated with myself would be putting it lightly. But it hadn't hit me fully until I saw the disappointment in Sabine's eyes. Their family meant more to me than I'd ever let Mari know. They were good, kind people. What they thought of me meant more than I think I'd realized until today.
To think I may never spend another Saturday afternoon in the bakery, or meet with Mari to study, or stay for supper with her family again. . . I had to fix this. I had to make it right. I wasn't willing to so easily give up the people that had taught me what love feels like.
Eventually I turned about face, and forced myself not to linger as I passed close to the Boulangerie Patisserie. Already, the rooftop of my family's property drew in sight. My claws sank into a brick ledge, just in time to stop me from flying over the edge from the momentum of my landing. I nearly didn't react in time, stunned by the sight that met me.
My house. Swarmed with press. Waiting. Hunting.
My tail swiped through the air, and I clenched my teeth. "What else did you expect?" I asked, though no one but a cross eyed pigeon was around to hear. It gave me one look and took to the sky.
I dropped to the ground a couple doors away, and made sure I was concealed before I allowed my transformation to drop. A slip up now would not make the current situation better.
Plagg gave me a look, cold enough to freeze molten cheese. "It never ceases to amaze me, the messes you humans manage to get yourselves into."
"Shut up," I grumbled, then crept around the corner to the sidewalk. I considered the stone wall that swallowed the mansion with a hand trailing over the smoothed seam of two bricks. I was stronger than I'd ever been, but I wasn't sure plain old Adrien could scale it. Plagg would be no help. That left only one option.
I felt very much like a mere kitten walking into a den of foxes. I tried to wade through the crowd without drawing attention to myself. I managed to make it halfway to the gates before someone actually took notice of me. I guess they'd expected me to show up in a limo or something. A young woman wearing a sharp, navy skirt suit and a lanyard pointed and gasped.
Uh oh.
"IT'S HIM!"
Every head turned.
My name echoed from two dozen mouths. I drowned in the flash of cameras. I lifted my arms to shield my face, if only to avoid being blinded. They pushed closer, until elbows jostled me and I couldn't breathe. Someone knocked into me, and I stumbled forward and caught myself on hands and knees.
So this is how I go. I always assumed I'd do something incredibly brave. Probably sacrifice myself for Paris, or even more romantic, for Ladybug.
An iron grip settled on my shoulder and lifted me off the cement. I tried to fight as it dragged me back, sweeping me through the mob. Which. . . maybe wasn't such a bad thing. Then I realized it was my bodyguard doing the dragging. I went limp with relief. He pulled me through the gates, and locked out the desperate cries of the reporters.
I stood frozen, knees weak. I may have fallen again if it weren't for his hold on my shirt. I took a breath, only for my lungs to beg for more air. "T-thanks, Fortier."
Gorilla's replacement nodded. "Of course, Sir." He let go of me and gave me an appraising look with his sharp eyes. What he lacked in bulk, though he was plenty strong, he made up for in cunning. I for one, thought it was plenty intimidating. "Are you hurt?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "No, I don't think so. Maybe a couple bruises. That's all."
"Good." He put a hand on my shoulder to guide me forward. "You should be inside, Sir."
A final glance back at the press confirmed they seemed to have every intention of staying exactly where they were. "Give us just a moment of your time, Adrien!" they pleaded. "We only want the truth," they promised.
"You're probably right," I said, and pointedly turned my back to the skulkers. As we reached the front steps, I faltered. "How's. . . my Father taking the news?" I didn't need to be told that he knew. He probably knew before I knew anyone could know.
Fortier sighed, and the mask of his professional stoicism faltered for a moment. "It's been chaos, Sir."
I swallowed. Not good.
The front hall was deathly quiet. Not that silence should have surprised me. But it was more ominous than usual. Fortier firmly closed the front door and went on his way. I lingered, unsure of whether I should make my escape to my room while I still had the chance, or if it would be better to get the confrontation over with.
Instead of making a decision, I stalled by going through the pile of mail on the table. Though it was a dumb excuse. I rarely received anything. Amidst vanilla business letters and magazine subscriptions, there was a dark blue envelope with a wax sealing, the emblem of some sort of feather. Out of curiosity, I picked it up. It might have been an invitation to some exclusive event, but there was no return address on it.
"I'll get right on it, Sir," Nathalie called, in a flurry to get out of my Father's office. She closed the door, and took a deep breath, a mess of papers tucked in her arm, clutched to her chest.
"Nathalie?"
She startled, though it was more of a sudden look my way than a jump. "Oh. Adrien."
I cleared my throat and discarded the mail back into its tray. "Is uh, my Father in there?"
She straightened, the mere mention of her employer setting her back on edge. "He is."
"Is he busy?"
"He has ten different calls going, and three assistants in to help him, so yes." She readjusted the documents in hand. "I'm afraid it's been like this most of this morning."
"Right." I stuck out my lips, though it wasn't exactly a pout. "Should I go in? I thought he. . . might have something to say to me."
She was quiet, and considered me carefully. Nathalie rarely commented on my personal life, though that didn't mean she didn't have opinions, and I knew she cared for me in some form or other. Whatever thoughts pooled behind her frosty gaze, she refrained from sharing with me. "I'd say he probably does." She shrugged. "Go in if you like." If I dared. "I doubt things will slow down anytime soon."
I took a step, and forced myself not to waver. Though I felt Nathalie watch me with a curious eye. I guess I'd been so focused on what this meant for Mari and I, and her family, that I hadn't considered how other people would treat me differently. I was already famous, sure. But I'd kissed Ladybug, a household name. Everyone in Paris not only knew Ladybug, they adored her. How much more in the spotlight could I get?
Nathalie went on her way, brisk steps toward her office, to fulfill whatever quest my Father had sent her on.
I paused, my hand on the doorknob, as I tried to remember the last time my Father and I had spoken face to face. We'd seen each other briefly at a shoot a couple weeks ago, but that hardly qualified. Before that, I'd spoken to him on the phone. Again, about business. That had been reaching a month now. It had always been like this, but now it was worse. More than it had ever been. Days, even weeks would go by without our paths crossing. Father was always working over weekends, or leaving the city on business, but the frequency had largely increased. Ever since here moved me from Dupont.
I liked to think he felt guilty about it. That he couldn't make himself face me after what he truthfully, I don't think it was a coincidence that me being at home more meant he was here less.
I turned the knob, and pushed into the room. All I could see was red. Red fabric samples, mannequins decked in scarlet, designs pinned to the wall. All red. But even more shocking, were the dozens upon dozens of photographs sprinkled across the room. All of Ladybug. My hand went slack on the door and I watched, eyes round.
Chaos, yes. But the kind where progress was being met head on. Father always said the creative process was messy. That's just how it worked. He stood in the middle of it all, like the acclaimed King of fashion. He didn't see me at first, but the assistants Nathalie mentioned eventually took notice of me. Their stares and curious glanced caught Father's attention. He turned, hands clasped behind his back, to face me.
"Adrien."
It all slowed. Attention fell from sketches, from fabric samples, and even phone calls. I set my jaw, unsure whether to stay where I was, whether it was safe to venture closer, or even the highly appealing third option. Run.
"Wh-what." I hadn't realized how at a loss for oxygen I was until I tried to speak. "What's going on?"
"Carpe Diem, my boy." Though he wasn't smiling, he didn't look specifically unhappy. In fact, he seemed. . . pleased? Why? "I'm seizing an opportunity. One too big to simply allow it to slip by."
"You're turning this into publicity for your company."
He swept an arm over the room. "My new line. Dedicated to the radiant, the miraculous savior of Paris."
While I agreed, Ladybug was miraculous. Radiant? Yes. And more than the savior of a city to me, his words had a reverse effect on me. They. . . repulsed me. If anyone would try and gain from this, I guess it would be my Father. I clenched my jaw, to trap any words, because anything that would slip out now would surely have repercussions.
"You of course," he went on," will be one of our main faces for the collection. It only seems fitting, seeing as you're now publicly known as. . ." His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "Ladybug's lover."
My blood ran cold. I got the feeling it would be safer outside with the foxes than to stay in this snake's den. "I. . . I'm not sure if-"
"The people will eat it up," he cut in. "Don't you agree?"
It wasn't immediately apparent if he'd directed the question to his workers or me, but the silence stretched, and I was unwilling to say a word. They perked up, all quick to nod and voice their approval.
"Genius, Monsieur Agreste!"
Yeah, I don't think so. I pulled the door opened again, making to leave. "Okay. . . well. I'll get out of the way of you 'genius'."
"Thank you, Adrien," Father said. "Oh."
I froze. There was always something.
"One of your friends came to see you."
"Who?" My heart lifted, though perhaps it was too much to hope it would be Mari.
Father quirked an eyebrow. "I believe he's the one that begins every sentence with 'yo' or 'brother'?"
"Nino?"
"Ah. That's the one."
I tried not to sound timid, but I paled, knowing right then that I didn't want to face my friend. . . If he'd even let me call him that anymore. "Where is he?"
Nathalie returned with whatever Father had asked her to fetch, and stepped past me with a solemn "excuse me, Adrien."
"I've not the slightest idea," he said. "Perhaps Nathalie knows."
"He may be in the pool room," she provided, and offered out a folder. "He had the chef sends snacks there earlier."
"Oh." I swallowed. "Thanks, Nathalie." I left them to their flurry of work. As I made my way up the front staircase, I considered briefly if I should ask Fortier to accompany me. Just in case.
Nino was indeed in the pool room. I saw him through the paneled glass, simply floating in the deep end. I'm not sure I'd felt so nervous since the first official date I had with my lady. After fighting them for weeks on end, butterflies left a sour taste in my mouth, even if they were figurative. I forced myself past the ill feeling in my stomach and rolled the sliding door open. The humidity dropped around me like a hot towel, and I knew the moisture would mess with my hair majorly. But that would be nothing compared to the damage it would do if Nino ended up pushing me into the pool.
It was this unfounded fear that kept me a good distance from the ledge, even to inch back a step as he paddled for the ladder. He'd heard me enter and now, as he stepped out, water dripping from his trunks to the cement, there was definitely something troubled in his eyes.
I blinked. "Are those my trunks?"
Nino reached for a spotless white towel folded on one of the lounge chairs. "Maybe. . ."
"Nino, what are you doing here?" A lump caught in my throat, because I had the sinking feeling I already knew. He took a step toward me, and I instinctively drew back. "You should at least remember that I took three years of karate."
His toweling off slowed, and his expression darkened ever so slightly. "Nah, man." He slung the towel around his shoulders and took the ends in a fist hold. "I was already here when that crap started blasting over the news. I don't think I woulda made it past all those reporters."
"I wondered." He didn't seem hostile, per se. Even so, my muscles coiled, braced for something. . . though I'm not sure what. I glanced at the still surface of the pool and my breath turned shallow.
"Alya. . . she called me." His eyes dropped to the floor, glazed, as if what he was about to say physically pained him. "Told me never to speak to you again."
Something told me to run. That I didn't need to face him. Maybe that was cowardice, but either way, I was too stunned to move. My fingers curled to bite at my own hand. Because Nino was my best friend. My first friend from Dupont. There weren't many people I cared for as much as I did him. And now, whatever he said, I knew, would break me, sure as the glass wall sthat surrounded us could shatter with a blow.
"I want you to know what you did was wrong." Firm. True. If it had been true. "You didn't just hurt 'Nette. You hurt me too." He put a damp hand on my shoulder. I flinched. "I'm here to tell you, even though you messed up, even though you hurt someone I care a lot about. . . I care about you too, man. And I'll always be here for you if you need me."
His words jarred me, sure as if he really had shoved me into the pool.
Not another word escaped. Just the water filter running and the muffled city sounds seeping in. Nino picked up his things, and then he left. I stood frozen, staring at the water. The house never felt so empty.
We said our goodbyes at the Eiffel after patrol. But I simply hadn't meant it. Without thought, without hesitation, I tailed her all the way home. I made an honest attempt to be discreet, but my lady was clever and she knew it. I prowled the shadows of an apartment building across the street and watched through the brilliant jade of my night vision as her form fluttered through the night. She touched down, and I blinked away the enhanced vision to watch her transformation roll away with a shimmer that rivaled the stars.
The lights strung over her balcony were the next thing to flicker. They cast a warm glow over her surroundings as she picked up a watering can and dragged her feet toward the mass arrangement of plants she'd managed to collect. It brought a strange smile to my face, and a glow to the very darkest corners of this unlucky cat's heart.
Sweet bug. Tending to her plants when it's well after midnight.
I moved. Took a leap across the open street. With a nimbleness that stroked my pride, I came to perch on the railing of the balcony. Her balcony. Our balcony. There was little difference after all the late night rendezvous we'd shared here.
She inhaled a sharp breath at the sound of my weight landing, but didn't turn, intent on her task. My tail flicked, and I resolved not to give up. Still, she didn't acknowledge me.
"Meow."
At that, she scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Me? Ridiculous? C'mon."
"Says the boy in a cat suit."
"Touche." I moved, til I stood behind her, and watched over her shoulder as she parted leaves to reach the soil. "It's late. You really need to water all those tonight?"
Marinette picked up a flower pot, the poor creature wilted from neglect, and was quiet, thoughtful, as if she sensed a hidden intention in my question. "I've been so busy, I haven't had time to tend to them properly."
"Or rest?"
She set the pot down. All throughout patrol, I could tell she was worn down. I made good use of my long arms to reach around her and take hold of the handle of the watering can, my clawed hand wrapped over her own. I tugged it from her to set it on the table, then grasped her hand again, fully this time. She finally angled herself to look at me, something dangerous in her voice. "Chat."
"You need to rest."
"Don't baby me, kitty."
I placed a hand over my heart. "No, I'd never!" And then, without warning, and before even I really understood what I was up to, I scooped her into my arms bridal style.
She gasped, and grabbed hold of the front of my suit, jostling my bell in the process. "What do you think you're doing!?"
I chuckled then offered a sheepish smile. "Sweeping you off your feet?"
Mari's grip at my collar loosened. "Well. Don't."
I couldn't help but grin. With the strength of my miraculous, she weighed practically nothing. In fact, her small frame felt fragile. The thought sobered me. "I'm sorry."
Her eyebrows drew together, the dim lights catching in her eyes like stars in a blue so deep, I wondered what it would be like to never set foot on solid ground again. "Are you okay?"
From the view we had on her roof, I could just make out the silhouette of my own house. My heart came crashing down into the pit of my stomach. "There's something I've been trying to bring up all night, and I. . ." Her gaze turned soft, and open. A look that made me believe no matter what I could possibly say, she'd listen. She'd stay. "My Father," I mumbled. "He's turned this whole thing into. . ."
"I know."
I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or panic. Because she knew now, and there was no hiding it. Did she hate me for this? Did she hate Father? I mean, not that that was hard but–
The trapdoor swung open. I jumped, not unlike a startled cat, arms still secure around her. My muscles knotted and my stomach rolled, and I could feel the proverbial sweat gathering on my forehead, because we'd been caught. By none other than Mari's best friend, the chief of the Ladyblog.
Marinette paled. "A-alya?"
She stood, only halfway onto the balcony, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping. "Oh. My. GOSH."
"Let me down." Mari squirmed in my hold, as I'd yet to release her, which honestly might be the most incriminating detail of all.
That snapped me from my shocked state, and I set her on her own two feet, gentle as could be. "Of course–" Princess nearly rolled out too, but I caught the pet name just in time. I coughed, the heat rising in my face. "Sorry about that."
Alya pointed straight at me. "What are you doing in. . ." Her eyes flew to Mari. "Explain. Now."
"W-well, this is Chat Noir, you s-see."
Poor sweet princess. But I was at a loss myself, so she was left to flounder alone.
"I can see that." Alya stepped fully onto the balcony and her steely gaze fell on me. "Did he carry you up here?"
"No!" She started forward, only to freeze up. "Of course he didn't."
"Marinette, I've been waiting in your room for you to show up," Alya said. "How else would you have gotten up here without his help?"
Uh oh.
Alya's face turned sharp. "What are you thinking!?"
"Please!" Mari waved her hands, fully in a panic. "Don't jump to conclusions."
I lifted a hand to my chin, feeling the inkling of an idea. "Of course, there's a very simple explanation."
"Chat." Mari turned to glower at me. "Let me take care of this."
I took a step forward, my gaze intent on Alya now. She met it, stubborn and full of fire as ever. Even as a super hero, going toe to toe with her didn't seem the smartest move. But I had to help Mari. My lady was beyond floundering. She was sinking. Fast. It was only a matter of time before she spilled everything.
At least, that's what I had to tell myself to gather the guts to go on. I gestured to Mari. "This young lady was walking the streets alone in the dark." I placed a hand to my heart. "Being a protector of Paris, I could not in good conscience leave her to an unknown fate."
The blogger squinted, though she didn't seem completely unconvinced. "Is that right?"
"On my honor, madam." I scooped her hand into my own. "Your friend is safe now. As long as Chat Noir is here, I can vow you her safety." And then, for good measure, and with a great deal of charm, I pecked the back of her hand.
Alya's expression lightened and she glanced at Mari. "I. . . may have overreacted. Sorry, girl."
I turned and allowed a beaming look at her, at my Mari. Though Alya couldn't see it, I knew it was unwise to linger for long. "Sweet dreams, Princess."
Her reaction was worth letting the endearment slip, regardless of what Alya thought now. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape. "T-thanks. Chat. . . Noir."
Perhaps I had been a bit dramatic. But go big or go home, right? So I winked for good measure. The fans loved it when I winked. And when her cheeks flushed in the hazy golden gleam of the balcony's light, I think she might have loved it too.
I retrieved my baton and turned to salute the young reporter. "Evening, cherie." I offered it in hopes that it would make my farewell to Marinette less suspect, though as I said it, I knew it tasted little of the sweetness and familiarity that came out before. Maybe Alya wouldn't notice. One could hope.
With that, I took off into the night. Once the dark wrapped around me I ached to turn back. To return to the warm glow, and the warmth of her. To the moment when she looked right into me, and I saw an awed trust and acceptance in her eyes full of stars. She was my Mari indeed.
I woke the next morning to a muffled hum. Without opening my eyes, shut against the sunlight I knew was waiting for me, my hand crawled through the sheets until I found the cool surface of my phone. I didn't bother to look at wh owas calling, as the screen was too bright, and my eyes refused to do more than peek at the world around me.
"What's up?" I croaked.
"Adrien!" Chloe's voice was loud enough to make me wince, though I could tell she was whispering. "You need to get over here."
"Huh?" I flipped over onto my back and blinked up at the ceiling. "Over where?"
"The hotel, of course. Where else?"
"Must sleeep. . ."
"Now, Adrien."
Her tone was enough to chill the fuzziness of sleep and bring me more awake. I pushed up into a sitting position. "Is this about. . .?"
The other end was dead quiet.
"Do we really have to do this now?" I shot Plagg a glare, because he'd stolen my spot on the pillow, like the selfish cat he was. "I have an appointment with Harper in an hour."
"I wouldn't ask unless it was important," she said.
The sun had only just reached the skyline, stretching bright little beams across the city into windows, an invitation to get up, to face the day. My eyes flicked to the shadows the window frames cast on the west wall of my bedroom.
"Okay, Chlo. I'll be there as soon as I can."
I ran a hand through my tussled hair, in an attempt to clean it up a bit. I smirked. For Chloe's sake, it was probably good it hadn't been a video call. She would have been positively horrified. I rolled out of bed and the floor, chill under my bare feet helped to bring me more alert as I crossed my room and opened the wardrobe. I grabbed a hoodie and sweat pants–something Harper would probably burn if I showed up wearing to our appointment.
Perhaps because Plagg was still sound asleep and I had a pang of mercy for him, or more likely because I didn't want to put up with his whining, I slipped out my bedroom door without a word to him. It wasn't possible to ignore the gap it left. Like I wasn't fully myself if I didn't have him with me, so close had our essences bonded. Upon reaching the front entryway, I realized it was probably best this way. Best for Chat Noir to lay low until this whole secret identity mess cleared a bit. Although I'd promised to come as fast as I could, I doubt she had in mind for me to race across the rooftops in a cat suit to reach the hotel.
By some stroke of luck (maybe since I'd abandoned Plagg), the street was clear and I left the house without so much as a flash from a camera. I jogged a couple blocks to loosen up the stiff sleep that still clung to my joints, until I felt less conspicuous and able to blend into the crowd. Pedestrians were on their way to work, and I was far from the only person stretching their legs for a morning run.
I had to practically drag myself past Mari's house. The door to the bakery opened as I passed, a whiff of the treasures inside carrying to me. My stomach was quick to rumble, as I'd neglected to grab anything before sneaking out the house. Chloe hadn't given me much choice.
"I wouldn't ask unless it was important."
What could be so urgent? I didn't have a single guess. Trying to figure it out only left my brain in a twist and an ill feeling in my stomach.
Just as I reached the street where Le Grand Paris sat, my phone buzzed with a text from her.
[ Chloe: Meet me in the lobby.]
I went on in, sparing the doorman a cautious smile, as it was entirely likely he'd recognize me. He nodded, but offered no words. I breathed a sigh of relief. The lobby was quieter than the street, any sound ate up by the luxurious crimson carpet. I turned a full circle to try and spot Chloe, but she'd come up behind me. She tapped my shoulder, and I jumped.
"Took you long enough." Her eyes darted across the room, definitely on edge. And she's the one that had frightened me.
"I had to walk the whole way,"I defended, only now aware that we were whispering. "Why are we whispering? What's going on?" Without a word she snatched up my hand, and promptly dragged me from the lobby toward the dining hall. "Chloe, what are you doing?"
"I was just coming back from my mani pedi when I saw."
"Saw what?" My stomach dropped. How could she possibly have gone this long without seeing the. . . news?
Instead of walking into the dining hall, like a normal human being, she yanked me behind a tall plant positioned by the door. Strategic. Suspicious. The fear in her eyes when she looked up at me was like an ice that lodged in my chest. If I didn't begin to get answers and soon, that ice would only spread further, until it gripped my heart.
"I saw her."
"Who?" I leaned around the foliage to look out over the room. It was packed out, as it was breakfast time for many, and well, this was Le Grand Paris.
Chloe tugged me back in place, out of view and pushed a stray leaf aside, better to look up at me, lips set, eyes cloudy with worry. "It's. .. her. The woman at the table by the second window."
More cautious this time, I decided to part the greenery enough to peer out, instead of stepping into the open. My eyes trailed the outer wall, until I reached the second window. I had to strain to see, but as she said, a woman sat at the table. Alone. Her small frame was clothed in a white silk blouse and her golden hair fell soft around her shoulders. She twisted in her chair, taking in the room, so I had a clear view of her face.
Mom.
My hands snapped away from the stalks of the plant like I'd been cut. Dizzy? Was it normal to feel this dizzy? I swear my legs were going to give out on me.
"Adrien?" Chloe put a tentative hand on my shoulder, which helped to ground me a bit. "I recognized her when she checked into the hotel." Her voice softened, barely above a breath now. "Was I right to tell you?"
"I." Words. I had to tear them out of me. Somehow. "I don't know." When I looked at her, I saw something pained there, more anxious than she'd been through every moment leading up to now. "But thanks for telling the truth. I can't fault you for that.
The tension in her melted and Chloe's hand gave me a gentle pat before it fell away. "Always, Adrien." When she spoke, the sparkle had come back, and the conviction there almost knocked the breath out of me. "Always."
