Marinette stirred, mumbling into her pillow as she blindly slapped her nightstand in search of her ringing phone.

"What," she said flatly, her eyes still squeezed shut. She felt like she had just fallen asleep, like it was way too early for anyone to be calling her. The room was dark, no sunlight assaulting her eyelids, but that didn't necessarily mean she hadn't overslept – winter nights were long.

"Girl!" Alya's voice was an excited squeal several decibels too loud. "Girl! This is going to be the Ladyblog's best week ever!"

"Wha…?" She cracked open one eye, casting a glance at the clock on the wall. Barely after midnight. "Alya, I need sleep, tell me in the morning."

"This can't wait! Look at what one of my readers sent me! This is a bombshell!"

Marinette, knowing that the fastest way to get rid of Alya was to humor her in whatever she wanted, opened the file she'd been sent with a resigned sigh.

Her breath left her.

It was a photo of a blurry silhouette jumping across a narrow alley between rooftops on all fours. The claws, the ears, the belt – she would recognize it anywhere, even if, on closer inspection, the form of him was not quite right.

"When was this taken?" Marinette whispered.

"That's why I'm calling you now – that was taken two minutes ago! Can you believe it?" She squealed again. "I'll be the first one to report on Chat Noir's return!"

Marinette did not hear beyond that, the phone slipping from her fingers, the unbearably loud drum of her heartbeat in her ears.

While the Ladyblog was indeed the very first to report a Chat Noir sighting, Alya's advantage lasted no more than ten minutes. The speculation in her comment section had barely gotten started – a measly hundred comments in what promised to be a viral post – when someone linked to the live feed of Paris' news broadcast.

Chat Noir ran, and it was glorious.

He didn't have to spare a thought to where to put his feet, instinctively landing on surfaces capable of supporting his weight. His claws easily sunk into window sills and brick, allowing him to run along walls without slowing his momentum. Never tiring, his body moved in perfect, graceful synchronicity. No matter how hard he pushed himself, how hard he pumped his legs and how far he jumped, no exhaustion made him slow down.

The buildings were shooting past him in a blur and he wasn't even out of breath.

He landed atop of an antique lamppost with a soft unf, surveying the promenade running along the river's shore below. More lampposts lined the path and he made a game of using them as his stepping stones, pretending the floor was lava just because he could, and ignored the excited gasps from the pedestrians beneath.

With one final jump, clearing what had to be at least a hundred meters at once, he landed atop the stone creature's head in full view of the gathered crowd. With a flick of his claw, he signaled the few tourists who'd dared cross the police line to scram, then stood still, giving his audience time to get out the smartphones and cameras.

He needed to draw her attention.

And the city of Paris needed to clear the remains of the creature from the river. The removal of the debris would cost the city untold sums, so this seemed like the best solution for everyone involved.

Raising his arm above his head, he shouted, "Cataclysm!"

As the stone crumbled beneath him, he jumped, crouching low on the fence he landed on. He flashed a bright grin at the startled crowd gaping at him. Then, with two more jumps, he was on the nearest roof.

Yes, this would draw Ladybug out. He felt a growl rising his throat and was surprised by the intensity of his fury – but then, Chat Noir had always felt everything more keenly than Adrien.

He'd planned on de-transforming and feeding Plagg after using his Cataclysm. Since all he had to do now was wait, he could afford the small break.

But his ring never gave him the warning beep.

She knew where to find him.

It only felt right that they would meet here, where it had all started and all ended. At least, that's what Ladybug thought, but when she glided onto their little spot atop the Eiffel tower, it was empty.

Her shoulders sagged with disappointment, but then she steeled herself again. She would search the entire city of Paris if that's what it took, now that there was a chance she would actually find him.

"You got here fast."

The voice was deep, pleasant and behind her. She whirled around.

A man stood hidden in the shadow of the pillar he was leaning against, arms crossed. The pose looked rigid and so un-Chat she couldn't be sure it was him, especially since he was not built like her scrawny kitten. She took a step forward, hesitant, letting her eyes roam over him. Black leather, check, ears, check, and… movement caught her eye. There was his belt, swaying in the breeze. No, not swaying, it was lashing, whipping back and forth in stark contrast to the man's utter stillness.

"Chaton," she whispered.

He pushed himself off the wall, taking a step toward her. "My Lady." The endearment… did not sound like one. His delivery was completely flat. Yet when he stepped out of the shadow and she met the gaze of familiar green eyes, pupils narrowed into slits, Ladybug utterly lost it all the same.

She slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his chest. His chest! Her minou had been only a few inches taller than she, but now the top of her head was tickling his chin. He was still so very stiff, but when she whispered "I missed you" she felt him soften.

Chat seemed hesitant when he put an arm around her in return, keeping his embrace loose. In contrast, Ladybug was doing her best impression of a vine. When she squeezed him, there was a rumble in his chest, vibrating against her ear.

She hadn't known Chat Noir could purr!

It only lasted a moment before he hid it behind an awkward cough, patting her hair and applying gentle pressure to pry her off. She reluctantly let him, taking a step back to get another good look at him.

Time had been kind to Chat Noir. The leather was hugging all sorts of muscles that had definitely not been there before, but the costume he wore was almost identical to the one of their youth. With one exception.

She flicked his collar. "Where's your bell, kitty?"

He shrugged, then nodded to her cape. "Figured it was time for an upgrade."

More like a downgrade. On an already outrageous costume, that had always been the silliest design element, but Ladybug had liked it. It was just so perfectly Chat that his neck looked empty without it. "But it made you look like such a re-bell."

Nothing. Not even a little twitch of his lips. Just a tightening of his jaw, and a flat look.

How disconcerting. Was he angry at her? Or had he lost that playful sense of humor?

"Chat Noir," she said softly. "Where have you been?"

"Around."

"Around," she repeated. What kind of answer was that?

A flick of his tail, and his voice grew gruff. "I was not in Paris when the attack happened and didn't make it back in time to help. You have my apologies for that."

"For that?"

"Yes."

"Well, how about not being there for six years, Chat Noir, do I get an apology for that?"

He gave a bored look. "Were ordinary human criminals too much for you to handle alone?"

She sputtered. "That's not– that's not the issue, Chat! You can't just disappear without a word and expect me to–"

"I was moving."

"…what?"

"That night, when I wanted to talk to you about civilian problems. I knew I was going to have to move away from Paris." He shrugged again and examined his claws. "Minors don't get a lot of say in where they live."

"That… that's it?"

All the horror scenarios she'd painted in her head of what Chat could possibly be going through that kept him from coming back. He'd given hints here and there that his home life had not been a happy one. That he'd been lonely. She'd had nightmares of her kitten, crying, consumed with guilt over Hawkmoth's death and calling out for her. He'd just been worried about moving?

"You could have told me that," she said, growing heated. He should have told her that.

Chat had hinted that to give away what troubled him would have been giving away his secret identity, and yeah, maybe it would have narrowed down the list of suspects by reducing it to teenage boys who'd moved away from Paris during a certain time frame, especially if he'd given away where he was moving to. But that was hardly an obvious reveal! She wouldn't have pried.

"I don't know if you noticed this, Ladybug," Chat drawled. "But I was a very melodramatic teenager."

Ladybug opened her mouth and closed it, not sure how to respond. Yes, Chat Noir had been prone to grandiose hyperbole – no matter what he'd said, her eyes were not really the color of "a beautiful ocean of infinite depth and secrets" – but that night had been different. At least, she'd thought so.

"Chat, I was worried. You left me to worry about what happened to you for six years. Six years!"

He tilted his head, a peculiar gleam in his inhuman eyes. "My Lady. I had no idea you cared."

How dare he! "Of course I cared," she snapped. "You are my partner!"

His expression went blank – and then he smiled. It was that awful, unnatural, way too pleasant smile he'd shown her on that night, too. "And you are mine. That's why I'm here, reporting for duty."

"Stupid."

Plagg's paw swiped at Adrien's cheek, but all the man did was grunt. He turned over, burrowing deeper into the pillow, his breaths slow and even. So Plagg hit him again, with his tail this time. Mostly because his charge deserved it and he'd been itching to do it since he'd been released from his seal.

"Idiot."

In his sleep, Adrien's features had softened. He looked almost boyish. So Plagg smacked him again for reminding him of what he'd managed to destroy this time.

Because it was Plagg's fault. He was the one who always spit and hissed whenever the Guardian tried to interfere with his independence. He was the one who'd insisted again and again that his charges were not to be touched without his permission. He was the one who'd forged the rules that kept the Black Cats apart from the others, because betrayal hurt and he did not want his Tikki to suffer it as he did.

The Guardian would be making new rules over this incident.

Plagg hated rules. Well, that was not quite true. He quite liked rules, because nothing gave him more pleasure than smashing one, and he especially liked rules that he'd made. It was other people's rules he knew he had to follow that he hated.

This one would probably be something extra tedious like making him do periodic check-ins. Because Plagg getting sealed away and not being able to call for help while his wielder goes rogue was now a distinct possibility that had to be accounted for.

But then, that made no sense.

The little black kwami paused, hovering motionless over Adrien's sleeping form.

When his wielders went rogue, it was because of Plagg's power. That was the pattern. They got a taste of Destruction and it made them feel mighty, so they destroyed, again, and again, until they were empty shells with empty eyes who wielded Plagg like a weapon.

But Adrien had set his power aside. Sealed Destruction away and not touched it again until duty forced him to.

It had also given him full access to Plagg's essence, making him more powerful than the other rogues before him had been. Oh, he hadn't learned to control it yet – and Plagg certainly wasn't about to help him figure it out – but it was only a matter of time until he started to draw on Destruction as he pleased.

If this was a long-term plan executed with great patience, then Plagg would have no choice but to deeply respect such deviousness.

Yet Adrien just did not have that kind of low cunning.

Plagg knew he should be calling the Guardian. But the Guardian was new, had replaced the old man Plagg had spent so much time bending to his will, and they had not yet come to a similar arrangement.

Guardians always had such a stick up their ass when it came to the rules, especially when fresh out of training. Only age and experience ever made them mellow.

Bitterness and pain had been left to rot in his kitten's heart for years. Chat Noir was free to express what Adrien would not, and there had been barely leashed anger and resentment seeping from his every pore. Directed at was supposed to be his other half, his Lady.

Leaving full access to Plagg's power in the hands of someone as volatile as Adrien would be wildly irresponsible – especially since Tikki had evidently been more conservative with the power she'd shared. Rogue Black Cats, crippled by Plagg shutting down growth of the bond, were always put down by a stronger Ladybug – but now she was weaker, and the focus of Adrien's was no way a fledgling Guardian would take the risk.

If Plagg called for help, the Guardian would come and confiscate Adrien's Miraculous for abandoning his Ladybug and for being unfit to work with her.

And then Plagg would be gifted a new kitten.

"I hate you," he hissed.

This was his first gentle heart in generations and he'd messed it up.

"You and your stupid, angular face."

There was still so much of Adrien left. He'd seen it, had watched him with his old friends and felt his joy as he ran through the night. It was strained, but it was there, and could grow strong again if nurtured.

Plagg was shit at nurturing. That was Tikki's domain.

"You had better not make me regret this," he muttered, and nestled into Adrien's golden hair.

Author's Note:

Thus concludes what I informally refer to as Act 1 (though the story isn't that strictly structured). The new status quo is established :D