"So then I just sort of woke up, in the safe," the blue kwami was saying, frowning. "And she was looking down at me. But… That's it. I don't remember anything from before that!"

The kwamis were gathered around again on the Cesaire's kitchen table, this time eating an early lunch—a BLT sandwich that they had split four ways. The newcomer—a blue kwami with peacock feathers and antennae—sat on top of a piece of toasted bread, looking confused. "I know what I am, I think? And what powers I can give, and what the rules are, but… Everything else is a blur. I don't know where I came from, or what my name is."

"Oh, that's easy," Tikki said, brightening. "Your name is—"

"Something for you to discover on your own," Wayzz cut in quickly. "It's healthier, if we let it happen organically. You can't become too obsessed with what used to be, or you won't ever move on. What happened to you, the previous you, was very terrible. There is a reason you forgot." He paused a moment, taking a bite of a piece of lettuce. "Don't worry. Your name will come to you eventually. It always does. I, for one, am very interested to find out what sort of kwami you become this time."

"Really?" the peacock kwami asked. "But, it's frustrating, not to know! How did I get this way?"

Plagg shook his head, mulling over a piece of bacon. "Psh, that's Wayzz for you, the bossiest kwami of all. He thinks just because he's been around the longest, that it's his job to go around being all vague and wise-like. Don't take him too seriously."

The cat kwami's voice was cheerful, but he was propped up against the side of the plate, still weak and sleepy-looking. Wayzz glanced at him for a moment, concerned. He would heal, with gentle treatment and regular doses of Master's special gong-style medicine. But for now, it was all Plagg could do to hold the bacon up to his mouth.

"Well," Wayzz said, after another bite of lettuce. "As long as I'm bossing you all around. Tikki, we need to talk."

"Hm?" Tikki looked up from her slice of tomato.

"The girl you're currently working with. Marinette." Wayzz sighed, trying to figure out the best way to say what came next. "She's… polluted. You know that, right?"

Tikki waited a second before replying. "Just… Just halfway! The akuma wasn't ever able to get a full hold! She's still Marinette."

"Yes, you're right," Wayzz said patiently. "The process wasn't able to complete itself, and that's good for Marinette. But in a way, it's almost worse for us. She was exposed to raw, unfiltered dark energy for so long… It's seeped down, deep inside. Surely you've noticed the effect on her mood."

"Marinette's just been through a lot," Tikki said, fidgeting with her tomato. "She'll be fine! She always bounces back."

"Not this time, Tikki. Not from this," Wayzz said. "And you know that. I could expect our new friend here not to know, but you have been aware for thousands of years now. There's no excuse for you to pretend not to know. Even if we did recover the other half of your miraculous, in Marinette's current state, she couldn't possibly use it. It would utterly repel her, in every way, as long as she's like this."

Plagg laboriously raised his head, noting the look on Tikki's face. He scoffed. "Big deal, Wayzz. Stop making her upset. My host went full akuma a while back! It's an easy fix. Break the object, catch the akuma, and then—"

"Purify it with the yoyo?" Wayzz asked. "How, when our Ladybug is too polluted to even become Ladybug? That's the only weapon we have to purge dark energy, and we can't even use it." He turned toward Tikki again, leaning forward earnestly. "That's why I'm bringing this up, Tikki. I'm sorry. I know it's not a pleasant subject. But it's time to choose a new Ladybug."

Tikki drooped, shaking her head. "I couldn't do that to Marinette. She loves being Ladybug. She's already feeling down, and it would make her so sad to lose her powers forever, too…"

"This issue is bigger than one girl's feelings," Wayzz said. "The whole world is at stake. All of humanity. And isn't that why we're here in the first place? Listen to me. Pick a new host. The new Ladybug can purify all of the akumas, including Marinette's! Don't you see? It'll hurt at first, but it's better for her in the end. If you really love her—"

"Stop it with that!" Plagg said, bristling. "Don't say that! You've got Tikki on the verge of tears, Wayzz. You know how attached she gets to her humans. Don't be so heartless!"

"I'm not," Wayzz said solemnly. "I swear to you that I'm not. I care, so deeply, about all of you. But that also includes the ones that aren't here right now. Or have you forgotten about Nooroo?"

Silence. The peacock kwami, not recognizing half of the names that were being thrown around, looked between them all uncertainly.

A door shut in one of the other rooms of the small apartment. "Tikki! Little guy!" Alya called from the hallway. "I'm done! Ready to go see Marinette?"

"That's our cue," the peacock kwami said, taking one last bite of bread before pushing himself up to hover in the air. "Coming, Tikki?"

"Of course." Tikki flew to join him, moving toward the sound of Alya's voice. She very pointedly did not look at Wayzz on the way past.

Wayzz sighed, letting her go. He would bring up the topic again later. They couldn't afford to spare feelings right now. He knew, better than any of them, how dire the situation was getting.

.:|:.

Master Fu turned to look at Nino, bemused. "You are a very passionate young man. I just have to wonder if you have thought this all the way through."

"Please," Nino said. "The meditation is really helping, I think! Seriously!"

"Then why not be content?" Fu asked, moving a feather duster over the shelves of his little dwelling. "Thanks to your dedication to the exercises, you've got the situation under control. If you stay away from this Papillon, you could probably forget there even is an akuma out there somewhere with your name on it. Wouldn't the easier thing to do be to sit back, relax, and wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir to solve the problem permanently for you?"

"Maybe, but what's easy doesn't matter," Nino said. "How can I help my friends at all if, every time I get close to Papillon, he can bring it all back on me again? Last time I nearly dragged them all down with me! If there's a way to be free, to get rid of the akuma once and for all, I want to know how to do it."

"Really? Without Ladybug's yoyo?" Fu picked up a bowl, dusting at the area beneath it. "You should know that there is a reason we build objects to take that kind of strain. Trying to do it yourself can be very, very painful."

"I don't care," Nino said firmly. "If anyone knows how to undo it, it's you. I'm willing to take the risk, whatever it is. Just tell me what to do!"

"Such an interesting young man," Fu said, replacing the bowl. "Easy-going and occasionally careless, but also loyal to a fault, with a solid, good heart. How can I say no, to such earnestness? I might as well say no to my younger self."

The old man exhaled, putting the duster down for a moment. He turned back to face Nino, folding his hands behind his back. "There is a pickle jar in the cabinet, up there. It's a little past my reach, I think. Fetch it for me successfully, and you will have your freedom."

Nino waited a moment, to see if the man was joking. Fu didn't so much as smile. Confused, Nino walked toward the kitchenette, reaching up to open the cabinet doors.

He stiffened in alarm as he suddenly saw the akumas, swarming inside their glass prison. For a moment, his breath caught, as he looked up at them. So many, all packed into one tiny space! And they were angry, seeming almost to leer at him as they threw themselves at the inside wall of the jar.

He could feel the old man's eyes on his back, measuring his response. No fear, he decided. Steady breaths, reach for calm. Focus. He swallowed once, then reached up to grab the pickle jar.

.:|:.

"It's utterly incredible. Like, seriously, just all the childhood fantasies come true. Me, a superhero!" Alya strolled down the sidewalk in the bright late morning sunshine, a new spring in her step. "It's so crazy, you know! I was happy just to be the one following superheroes around, but now… How did you even handle this much awesome, Marinette?"

"Huh?" Walking beside her, Marinette snapped out of her drifting thoughts suddenly, struggling to focus. "Oh, um…"

"Chat Noir's been taking me patrolling, the last few nights," Alya said, "Kinda showing me the ropes and everything. I know everything's all serious right now, but I can't help it, it's kind of fun!"

"It is," Marinette said quietly, walking carefully around the slushy puddles covering the ground. "You're very lucky, Alya."

Alya's steps faltered, her grin lessening as she looked at Marinette. "Oh… Dang, I'm sorry. Here I am blabbering on about it, while…"

"It's fine," Marinette said, eyes on the ground.

It was not fine. Alya wasn't stupid. While she had been bouncing along, with her kwami riding on her shoulder, Marinette had been slowly dragging behind more and more. Tikki floated behind her, supportive, but unable to really even touch her, in case she was hurt by a sudden flare-up of dark energy. Even days later, Marinette seemed tired, low on energy, dark circles under her eyes. Alya had been attempting for the last thirty minutes to keep the conversation light and upbeat, to cheer Marinette up, but it hadn't been working.

And now she and her dumb mouth had gone and mentioned superheroes, in front of her friend who could no longer turn into one.

"Well," Alya began again, hooking her arm through her friend's. "Enough about me. How have you been, the last three days?"

"Fine," Marinette said softly. "My parents know everything now. I kind of had to tell them, with everything that's happened. It's been quiet." She had thought, for sure, that they would have protested her leaving the house for a while. Instead, after three days of watching her mope around, her mother had all but insisted that she go out with Alya today.

"Okay," Alya said, frowning at her friend, acting so unlike herself. It made sense, though, didn't it? Marinette had been through a lot. "Well, but that's good, right? They love you! They'll support you." She thought briefly of Adrien, who was still having to duck the occasional thrown object when Chat Noir showed up in public, thanks to her. "You're lucky, that way."

"Yeah. Lucky." Marinette sighed and stopped walking. "I'm sorry, Alya. You're being very nice, and I know you just want to have fun. But I'm just not feeling up for shopping today. I'm very tired… I think I'm just going to go home."

"You sure?" Alya asked, turning around to face her. "It's my treat! There's this bubble tea shop, that opened just before the city started falling apart. It's still open, and it's really cool! I wanted to show you some of the designs they have on the walls. Knowing you, I really think—"

"I'm sorry, Alya," Marinette repeated, studying her shoes. "But I'm going home now."

"Hey—girl, wait!" Alya said, leaning forward to catch Marinette's arm as she turned. "Don't just run off on me! At least let me walk you home."

"Why?" Marinette snapped suddenly. "I didn't walk you everywhere, back when I was the one with superpowers! Do you think I'm some kind of small child or something?!"

As though stung, Alya jerked her hand back. She stared at her friend. "Marinette…"

Marinette's anger collapsed immediately. She backed away from Alya, shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean that. I just… I don't know what's happening to me, lately."

"It's okay," Alya said, still a little stunned. "I get it! We can talk about it, if you—"

Marinette had already turned, and was running away.

"Marinette, wait!" Tikki called, zooming after her.

Alya glanced at her own kwami, confused. She let her hands fall to her sides, watching her best friend run from her, at a loss.

.:|:.

Adrien sat cross-legged on the roof of the massage parlor, the only place, in that part of town, where he could get a good Wi-Fi signal. He shielded Alya's laptop from the bright sunlight, trying to see the small windows on the screen. A few of Alya's cameras had been found, in the three days since they had been placed all over the mansion, but the vast majority remained. In little bits and pieces, they were able to watch what was happening in the Agreste home now, and even listen a little, although the microphone quality wasn't the greatest.

Most of it was boring, hours of looking at empty hallways with the occasional supervillain mook passing by. But every now and then, he caught glimpses of something or another. They were moving machinery inside, some sort of specialized equipment, the purpose of which Adrien wasn't sure. Mostly he watched silent feeds, but every now and then, when something interesting was happening, he'd turn up the sound. The result was tinny audio, fading in and out. Every now and then, he caught snatches of conversation. Something about new troop formations. Something about akumas. Something about the weather. Something about red jewelry.

"Did you know there's purple light flashing out of the windows?"

"Agh!" Startled, Adrien jerked, then scrambled not to drop Alya's very expensive laptop. "Plagg, don't do that!"

"What?" Plagg said, hovering where he had suddenly appeared, just over Adrien's shoulder. "I thought it looked strange!"

Adrien leaned over the edge slightly, curious. Sure enough, purple-ish flashes of light were coming from behind the blinds. He hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "Master Fu is down there. Whatever he's doing, I'm sure he has it under control."

"If you say so," Plagg replied.

Adrien glanced behind him, at the kwami wobbling slightly in the air. "I thought you were at Alya's house, resting. Did you fly all the way here by yourself?"

"I was getting bored," Plagg said, sinking slowly to the cold roof tiles. "Besides, what if you need to transform, and I'm not here?"

"Plagg," Adrien said, gently scooping the kwami up. "I hurt you, touching all of that dark energy. It's bad enough that I'm making you work five hours each night so I can patrol. Shifu said you're supposed to be taking it easy until you've recovered."

"I am!" Plagg said. "This is me you're talking to, buddy. Believe me, I know taking it easy. But just letting you wear the disguise and giving you a few enhancements isn't going to hurt me. Lay off the Cataclysm for a while, maybe don't get stabbed in the chest with anything for a month or so, and we'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Adrien asked, frowning. "That's suspiciously assertive of you. Is Tikki starting to wear off on you or something?"

"Oh, please," Plagg said, laughing a little. "I wish I'd wear off on her a little, lately. She's working herself to exhaustion, trying to single-handedly take care of that girlfriend of yours."

Adrien glanced in the direction of Marinette's house, over on the other side of town, before he realized he was doing it. He quietly closed the laptop. "You're sure you're up for a little Chat Noir time?"

"Yeah, sure, go for it." Plagg smiled sideways at Adrien, giving him a knowing look. "Especially if you're going to use it for what I think you will. I think both of us could stand to cut out on the serious act for a while."

"A little awkward, taking someone else along for a mission like this," Adrien said, before standing. "Oh well. Never stopped me before!"

.:|:.

The elderly woman looked up as the bell on the front door rang. "Hello?" she called, adjusting her spectacles. "I'm sorry to say we've been looted twice already. We're clear out of stock."

"Madame Proulx?" Alya asked, sticking her head into the jeweler's shop. "It's Alya. Marlena's daughter?"

"Oh!" the woman said, straightening. "You're so tall now! And how is Marlena?"

"Doing great," Alya said, stepping inside, looking around at the empty shelves. "And yourself?"

"Fine, fine," the woman said, even though she was sitting in the middle of an emptied-out shop with boards over the busted-up windows. "What can I do for you today, Alya? A little young to be shopping for jewelry, aren't we?"

"Actually," Alya said, walking up toward the counter. "I wanted to ask a favor of you." She reached into the laptop bag hanging by her side. It was mostly empty, her laptop spending the day with Adrien. Her hand nudged her kwami inside, by accident, before moving to the side and closing around a small plastic container. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor. And if you could keep sort of a secret."

Mme. Proulx took the container from her, curious, and opened it. "What a pretty diamond!" she said, before shooting Alya a quizzical look. "Why is it lying on… It looks like rice and maybe coffee grounds?"

"Ground tea leaves. And rice, yeah." Alya shrugged. "The old man who gave it to me said something about how rice and tea leaves will soak up all kinds of things. I don't know."

She did know. She had seen it, dripping with liquid dark energy, all the way until they had managed to get it separated from Marinette. The diamond didn't look dangerous, but there was the potential for it to do all sorts of unstable, potentially harmful things as long as it remained in one piece. Which was why Alya was here, watching it like a hawk, ready to transform at a moment's notice if it did anything at all while the old woman was holding it.

"And what do you want me to do with it?" Mme. Proulx asked, picking it up and holding it to the light. Such a large, high-quality diamond, surely worth a lot of money! "I can't sell it for you. I'm afraid jewels are dangerous things to have right now, with such brutal brigands tearing up the streets these days…"

"No, no, I wouldn't ask that of you," Alya said. Something nudged her side, and she glanced down for a moment. The peacock kwami was peeking out of her bag, already holding out the handle to a butterfly net, in case she needed it. Also somewhere inside with it was a small glass jam jar, she knew, one she would have to be careful with. "You still have your tools, right? I was wondering if you could break it apart for me."

.:|:.

"Aan-GH!"

Nino doubled over, struggling with the overwhelming dark energy pouring from the jar, through his hands, up his arms, into his very core. It hurt! His own akuma had never hurt before. But then, his own, single akuma had only ever whispered, gentle and full of promises, trying to lull him into a sleep-like state. This roiling mass of akumas packed into a jar, on the other hand, were screaming at him, trying to swarm over him by force. They didn't seem to care that he was already possessed. They were more than willing to share, if it got them out of their prison, even if it ripped him apart in the process! They didn't just want to lead him, they wanted to take him out of the picture altogether.

"Focus," Master Fu called, voice faint and far away, from behind a deafening flood of bubbles. "You are panicking. You must calm down."

He breathed out forcefully, emptying his lungs. Opened his eyes, glaring at the jar clenched in his hands. Then remembered and cut out the anger, separating his feelings from the situation. What he felt about it didn't matter. He couldn't put those feelings first. All that mattered was that he pick up this pickle jar, carry it across the room, and give it to Master Fu.

He turned, forcing his legs to move. His legs, not theirs. Slowly, every step a battle, he made himself go forward, a little at a time. It was work, taking every ounce of focus he could summon. He shut everything out, even the background beats and melodies that were always, always playing at the back of his mind, only allowing the thoughts that moved him toward his target.

He sank to his knees, struggling the whole way, in front of Master Fu. The akumas were striking out extra hard against his mind now, sensing their opportunity slipping away. His senses were being overloaded, bright, painful flashes of light, color, sound, and touch. It sent him swaying, threatening to lose his hold, to let the jar slip free and crash on the hard wooden floor.

"Nng." He tightened his grip around the glass, fighting nausea. Determined, with every ounce of his willpower, he yelled, fighting to push his arms forward. He moved the jar, inch by inch, toward the old man in front of him.

.:|:.

Papillon looked up for a moment, letting the pink mask over his eyes slip. There had been a small flash of light, a sudden sound. Confused, he turned to look over at the table, where, still trapped under an upside-down glass cup, a single akuma had suddenly burst into flames.

.:|:.

Alya's face smiled out of Marinette's phone, just above her number. It had waited there, looking patiently up at Marinette, for several minutes now, while her finger hesitated over the call button. She really should apologize for earlier. It took Marinette's tired, slow-moving thoughts a while to connect enough to remember it didn't matter, anyways. She had broken Alya's phone, all those weeks ago. Broken it, and then never been able to fix it again, afterwards.

She placed it on the table, looking out from the balcony outside her room. Poor, poor Paris… She had left it so beautiful, so full of good memories and pretty places. Now, she was home, but everything looked horrible, half-destroyed and falling apart. She had been supposed to protect it, to stop it from ever getting this bad. She had failed it. She had failed everyone. She had failed, just failed, at everything.

"Marinette?" Her mother stepped through the door behind her, carrying a cardboard pastry box, looking at Marinette with concern. "You didn't come down for dinner," Sabine said. "Not hungry again?"

"Not really," Marinette replied, looking out at the dying sunset. "Sorry."

"No, that's okay," Sabine said gently. "You didn't go with Alya today? I was hoping you would. It usually makes you happy, hanging out with your friends."

"They don't need me," Marinette said slowly. "I'm just making them miserable. I'm no good to anyone, lately. All I do is hold people back."

"Oh, cherie, you know that isn't true," Sabine said, coming up to lay a hand, gently, upon her daughter's shoulder. "They care a lot about you. A lot of people do, even if you can't see it just now."

Marinette shrugged. "I'll go out later, okay? Just… Not with the others, right now. Lately, I just want to be alone."

"I see," Sabine said. "Well, when you do, will you take these with you?" She leaned over, putting the box in Marinette's lap.

Marinette reached down to open it. "Half of the bakery is in this box, Mama. Who is this for?"

Sabine smiled, glancing up. Marinette raised her eyes, trying to see what her mother was looking at.

Arms grabbed her from above suddenly, tossing her into the air. She yelped in surprise, clutching the box as she fell for a second, then felt Chat Noir crash into her, grabbing her mid-air as he vaulted for an opposing rooftop.

"Chat Noir, what are you doing?!" she cried. Over his shoulder, she could see her mother, standing on the balcony, waving at them cheerfully.

"Taking you for a little ride, my lady," he said, springing upwards. He flicked his baton forward, using it to vault them around a curve.

"Careful," she said, fingers digging tightly into his shoulders. "Some of the roofs still have ice on them!"

"Since when have you been afraid of a little rooftop roulette?" he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Since I had to do it without any superpowers!"

He laughed, kicking off from a wall. "That's what I'm here for. Trust me a little, partner!"

She frowned at him, trying to be cross. But it was hard to stay serious, while bouncing from high place to high place. While it was always more fun on the flexible swinging string of a yoyo, even without one, she enjoyed flying between places at roller-coaster speeds, over dizzying drops and up sudden steep inclines, knowing for sure that she wouldn't fall. She had from the beginning, even in the first few terrifying days of trying out her powers for the first time. How could she not? Everything about it was exhilarating.

He grinned when he saw her smile, the same cocky, shameless grin that she could never stay mad at. He paused just long enough to shift her from being held in his arms, to holding onto his back. "Hold on, Princess. We're about to get acrobatic." Suddenly, he jumped up and twisted sideways, before resuming his run across the city. She gasped, holding on tightly, trying not to crush the pastry box. Show-off.

Chat Noir finally slowed to a stop on the roof of the stadium around a football field, leaning to lower her gently to the ground. She looked around, confused. "What is all of this?" A folding table had been set up on the roof before they arrived, complete with chairs, plates, cutlery, and what looked like plastic containers filled with pasta, sauce, and breadsticks. A boom box, borrowed from Nino, waited not far away. "Oh my," Marinette said, starting to laugh. "Did you set up a date?" It was exactly the kind of thing he would do.

"Only the best for you," he said, looking at the box in her hands with curiosity. He reached forward to open it. His eyes lit with excitement at the assortment of baked goods inside. "Oh, man, your mom is the best!"

Marinette passed the box to him, wondering when he had met with her parents to plan this, in the short time she had been outside of the house. "Wow," she said, looking down at the table. "The pasta even looks hand-made!"

"But of course," he said, with an over-flourished little bow. "For you, my dear, I would slave away in the kitchen every day, if necessary."

"Uh-huh," she said, smirking over her shoulder at him. "And how is Mme. Cesaire doing lately?"

He gasped and put a hand over his heart, playfully wounded. "Ah! I can't believe you would accuse me of outsourced pasta. …But, she's doing very well, if a little busy, and she says hi."

She giggled. Then caught a glimpse of the relieved look on his face, and stopped, remembering. She looked out at the city around them, the streets so empty, so many of the buildings damaged or even destroyed. "…I appreciate it, Chat Noir. This was really sweet of you. But I'm just not very hungry right now. Or at all, lately." Her stomach was twisting in knots inside of her.

"I see," Chat Noir said. Then shrugged, good mood not defeated. "Dancing, then." He leaned over, pressing a button on the boombox. Slow, soft music began to drift out. He smiled at her, then bowed again, holding out his hand. "Will you dance with me, my lady?"

Dancing, on a rooftop, beneath the stars. A little corny, but very, very sweet. His relentless cheerfulness was infectious, and she couldn't bring herself to turn him down when he was trying so hard. She took his hand, and let him sweep her into a twirl.

He held her close, and they settled into a rhythm together, swaying gently to the music. She didn't really know what she was doing, and her two left feet and general tiredness led to constant stumbling. But Chat Noir was an experienced dancer, and he more than compensated, artfully turning her slight stumbles into small dips and turns. After a few moments, she let herself relax against the warmth of his chest, letting him lead, for once.

He smelled, faintly, of cheese. Of course. He was Adrien, and Adrien had always smelled, just slightly, like that. Now she knew why. She blushed a little, trying to imagine telling herself, a few months ago, that soon she would be dancing with Adrien like this.

"Chat Noir?" she asked suddenly, on impulse.

"Yes?" he asked, looking down at her with a soft smile.

"Will you take your mask off?"

He stiffened, suddenly, steps slowing. Then looked away, hurt. "Oh… Of course. I'm sorry. Of course you'd prefer it with Adrien."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, not following. "You are Adrien, aren't you?"

"Yes, but…" He blew out. "It's… They told me that you liked him, back then. I honestly never knew, or I would have… I don't know why you like him. Chat Noir seems cooler, to me. But if that's what you want—"

"Stop." She reached up, holding his face, making him focus on her. "Why are you talking in the third person like that? It's weird." Marinette shook her head. "You're being silly. Chat Noir and Adrien are the same, aren't they? There's no need to separate them out like that. If I liked one, then I liked the other. I was just too oblivious to notice it at the time."

Her face was heating with slight embarrassment. It was strange that, now, when it was finally time to admit it, she was managing to get through it all pretty much without stumbling. Chat Noir's mask helped, the slight layer of separation, and the unguarded openness without restraint he always wore with it.

"I just wanted to see your face," she said softly. Then averted her own eyes. "And… It's kind of painful, if I'm being honest, to dance with you while you're transformed. Usually when you're like this, I get to be Ladybug too."

He was looking down at her, studying her. She didn't look back, now truly embarrassed. She had so little of a grip on her own emotions lately, so little ability to control herself. She regretted saying anything, wished she had just kept her mouth shut, and not bothered him with it. He was trying so hard to cheer her up, and here she was, ruining it.

"Marinette," he said. He was pointing down at the football field below them, dark without the stadium lights. "Do you remember our first battle together? It was here, against Stoneheart."

She nodded, not sure how that connected to anything.

"I wasted my Cataclysm," he said, laughing to himself. "I was such an idiot about the whole thing… But you, you were incredible. And so, so clever and smart. I thought you were so cool, that day! I really admired everything about you."

Marinette sighed. "Except I'm not—"

"And over there!" Chat Noir turned, pointing at the Eiffel Tower, shadowed in the distance over in Papillon's territory, but still visible. "That was battle number two, right? The one where we were starting to get the hang of it a little. You were so brave, and so selfless, and just—just amazing. And…"

He rotated, searching the skyline, then pointed. "That one, with the tower. That's the TV station, I think! Where we fought Climatika, and Jackady. Oh man, remember those? And the Louvre…" He frowned, looking for it. "I don't think we can see it from this angle. But you remember the Pharaoh, right? You have no idea how much I panicked for you! I think the zoo is somewhere over—"

"Stop." Marinette turned away, voice tight. "Why are you saying all of this? I can't be her anymore. It's all just memories of things I can't do anymore. It hurts!"

"Marinette…"

"And, even worse," she said, struggling. "Everywhere you point… There's so much damage, Chat Noir. Everything's falling apart. What about all of those things? All the places that have been destroyed, all the people that have been hurt? There's so many that we haven't saved, that we were powerless to—"

He touched her arm. Her words choked off, as she struggled not to cry.

Chat Noir looked around slowly. "Yes," he said quietly. "There's a lot we couldn't do. We got overwhelmed. I feel bad about it, too." He took a breath, stepping a little closer to her. "But it would be so, so much worse, if it weren't for us. You know? We saved the city so many times together. Without us—without you, this stadium, the tower, the museum, and everything else… They're still existing, right now, despite everything Papillon has done. That's thanks to you."

He patted her gently. "I want it to remind you, of all the good we did for them. And all the good we still can do. It's you who told me, back when this first started, that all of this would be temporary. We're going to find a way to fix the parts that are broken. Together."

"Even if I don't have superpowers?" she managed, vision blurring. She reached up, running the back of her hand over her cheeks. "Even if I'm just clumsy, weak Marinette, who can't do anything to help?"

"What did you just tell me, two seconds ago?" Chat Noir asked. He reached down, gently gripping her shoulders, turning her back around. He placed one hand under her chin, lifting her eyes to his. "You are Ladybug, whether the mask is on or not. You always will be, to me, my Ladybug. So there can be no room for doubt, okay? You're my partner, no one else. If you're still willing, then we're in this together, until the bitter end. Right?"

Marinette looked up, searching his eyes, finding only warmth and love and unwavering acceptance. She wiped at her own eyes again, grateful and happy.

"Right," she said softly. Then leaned up to lay her lips against his. She felt him, eager, kissing her back.

.:|:.

The jeweler squinted through the magnifying lens of her loupe, using a pair of tweezers to turn the little diamond. "As I said," she said, reaching again for the hammer. "It's a high quality one. It's difficult finding a well-located weakness. But the fractures are there. One more…"

Alya watched closely, butterfly net in hand as the woman raised the hammer. Madame Proulx brought it down, sharp and hard, at a calculated point to the side of the little earing. The diamond, hard but also brittle, shattered.

Madame Proulx gasped in surprise as the butterfly suddenly appeared. Alya leaned forward and, with one sudden swipe, had it in her net before it could get more than a handful of centimeters away from the broken jewel. It struggled as she reached in to grab it, trying to attack her. But the peacock kwami was beside her, in the bag, concentrating to keep it from doing anything at all. Powerless, it could do nothing as she threw it into the jam jar, then closed the lid over it.

Alya held the jar up to the light, inspecting it. Strange. Darkness clung to its wings, but, slowly, was starting to flake off in places. In large patches, as she watched, the evil energy sizzled away, showing pure, shining white beneath.

Alya smiled to herself as she pocketed the jar, absently wondering how the date was going, several miles away. It was a beautiful night for it, and for the first time in more than a week, she could see stars.