Chapter 38

Alya watched Marinette pace. She would be amused if she herself weren't so worried. Still, it was interesting to see Marinette worry so much over a girl who, just a few weeks ago, she abhorred. Alya had become closer to Chloé too, but whatever happened between Marinette and Chloé that morning when Marinette told her everything, there was a new level of understanding between the two. Alya could see that Marinette still didn't complete trust Chloé with her full friendship, she was slightly on guard whenever Chloé's sass came out, but it was getting better. They tried to keep the new friendship between Chloé and their group on the down-low at school, but sometimes they would mutter inside jokes to each other while passing in the hall, or just look at each other in class and start laughing.

Alya liked Chloé, loathe as she was to admit it. She had become a part of their group, and if nothing else, she was a miraculous holder. She was one of them.

And right now, she was in the lion's den, and they had no idea what was happening.

They all were transformed, her and Ladybug on one rooftop, Chat and Honu across the street on another. Chloé said if anything happened, she would transform and call them. They had been playing with her powers in the last week and while somewhat disconcerting at first to have everyone's voice in her head, she had to admit it was handy. Marinette had voiced her concern at Chloé transforming in front of everyone, but Chloé had wryly responded that if she really needed help, revealing her identity would be the least of her problems.

So here they sat. Or, in Marinette's case, paced. They had watched her meet a woman, who presumably was Penelope, and walk into a highrise from a side alley entrance that led down into the basement. It was pretty shady, but Volpina kept that to herself lest Ladybug or Chat just decided to storm the place.

Chat was mirroring Ladybug on the opposite rooftop, though part of his anxiety was the possibility that his mother was being kept right there in that building too. Alya had tried to tell him that it would be highly unlikely that Germain would bring Chloé to the headquarters of whatever operation he was running without knowing he could trust her first. Then again, they were in the southern arrondissements, which matched where the photo that started this whole quest was developed. The what if persisted; so, Chat paced.

After twenty more minutes, and no smoke signal from Chloé, Ladybug sat down next to Volpina.

"You are infuriatingly calm." Volpina just smirked.

"I'm a reporter. I know how to wait for a story and the importance of a good stake-out." She bumped Ladybug's shoulder with her own. "It'll be fine. He's not going to hurt his own niece."

"I don't know if I believe that, but there's nothing we can do about it now. Pollen will come get us if it all goes really wrong, so I just need to not freak myself out." She looked over. "Distract me."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a master illusionist."

"Is that so? Prove it."

So for the next half hour, Volpina created a miniature light show for Ladybug. She enjoyed practicing her powers, so she focused on the detail and intricacy of her images, having Ladybug play "spot the flaw" and point out things that gave her mirages away as fake.

"I can see you're just wracked with worry." Queen Bee's voice rung through their heads, starling Volpina so much she lost her grip on the illusion. Ladybug was standing in a second, and she spotted Queen Bee standing about two roofs away.

"What-" she began, but Queen Bee cut her off.

"Not here. Back at Adrien's. I'll meet you there. I need to make a stop first." Queen Bee was gone as soon as she appeared and Ladybug turned to Volpina. They motioned to the guys, who had also gotten the message, and they made their way towards the Agreste mansion.

Queen Bee burst through her balcony door and stalked over to her closet. Reaching up, she delicately grabbed and lowered a large hatbox. Taking care, she placed it on her bed and opened the lid. She lifted the tissue paper that protected the contents, clapped her hands to turn the lights on in the room, and hesitated.

She wasn't a sentimental person, but this box contained all the emotions she tried to push away. It was the physical representation of what she outwardly suppressed. She lifted the scarf that laid on top and lifted it to her nose. It still held the faint smell of her mother: lilac perfume and sugar cookies. Her mother loved to bake, and would make Chloé shortbread and hot chocolate every time she was sad or hurt. She had avoided and shunned both ever since, it was just too painful to think about. Until recently, she thought, thinking to her new friends waiting her.

Carefully laying the scarf on the bed on top of the tissue paper, she started to go through the rest of the box's contents. Finally, she found some pictures of her parents from before she was born. She was pointlessly looking for some proof that what Germain claimed wasn't true. Though she sometimes was frustrated with her father, and thought he let people get away with too much-including her- he was a good man and he loved her enough for two parents. Chloé always missed her mother, but when it was just her and her father, she never felt like she was lacking any love. That's why Germain's truth-or at least his version of the truth-was so disturbing to her.

"Didn't you wonder why a woman like your mother only had one child? It clearly wasn't for financial reasons." Germain looked at her with what looked like a mix of pity and some bastardization of paternal love.

"You're my daughter, Chloé."

Germain had tried to say it kindly, but she could clearly tell he was trying to manipulate her. He had known her as a child, but she'd grown far past the naivety and obliviousness he remembered her having. Nevertheless, she had to wonder. Her father and Germain didn't look much alike, but they were full-brothers, so it's very possible any resemblance she had to Germain was just because they were related.

She released her transformation, and Pollen nestled into her neck in an uncharacteristic show of compassion. She was usually more of the 'tough love' type, but even her kwami sensed the deep unrest in Chloé. She slid to the ground and leaned her back against her bed, trying to take in everything that Germain had said. Much to her annoyance, he had been more focused on their 'family reunion' than on sharing any useful information with her. Her logical mind told her that she could use this potentially deeper connection to her advantage; unfortunately, her logical mind wasn't at the forefront right now.

He claimed, that her father couldn't have children because of some unfortunate boating accident when they were boys, and when he and her mother wanted children, Germain stepped up to help. According to him, her parents suddenly cut him out of their lives and refused to let him see Chloé anymore.

"I just wanted to be in your life," he said, a tortured look in his eye. "But they shunned me and separated us without cause. Out of jealousy."

She had watched as a flare of anger sparked in his eyes and realized immediately that this man was not stable. It didn't mean that he was lying, though. She sighed, feeling like her entire life had been a sham. She didn't believe for a minute that her parents had acted purely out of jealousy. Her father may be a bit gullible at times, but he was always logical and never irrational. As for her mother, where did you think she'd picked up her uncanny perception? If they pushed Germain away from Chloé, there was a reason. Her rational brain told her it didn't matter if it was true, and it made sense that her father never told her. It shouldn't matter. André was her father in every way that counted. Still, she didn't like being in the dark and was worried about how Germain might use this information to manipulate her.

Feeling irrationally emotional, she pulled her knees up to her chest. Resting her head on her knees she allowed herself a rare indulgence and she began to sob. That was how her father found her about ten minutes later.

He'd knocked on the door and peeked his head in.

"I thought I heard you rummaging around in here-" He broke off and the jovial smile he had worn when he walked in disappeared from his face as he saw her. He was unaccustomed to seeing Chloé like this, but reacted the way any parent would when their child was in distress. Crossing the room in three large strides, he was by her side and gathered her into his arms. She clung to the lapels of his suit jacket.

"What is it, ma petite chou?"

She laughed, pulling back and wiping her eyes. Her father hadn't called her that in a while, and it was more comforting than she thought hearing the old term of endearment.

"Oh," she said wiping his coat, "I got makeup on your jacket." He made a dismissive gesture.

"You can buy me another. I'm sure you'll find something far more fashionable anyway. Now come. Tell me." He led her to her sitting area, and they sat in the twin chairs facing the fireplace.

She hesitated, wondering how to ask him without giving away what she had been up to. She knew she would tell him one day, but worried about him getting hurt if he were involved too soon. She decided to go for a very redacted version of the truth.

"I ran into someone today. Uncle Germain." Her father's face looked stricken. There was no other word for it.

"My brother, Germain." He wasn't asking, more like processing what she had just dropped on him. She nodded, but remained silent until her father finally turned to look at her. "So you know then."

That was it. Tears started to run down her face at his confirmation. A part of her already knew. She could usually tell when people were lying, and Germain was using the truth to manipulate her, a tactic she knew well. She just hadn't wanted to believe it.

Her father didn't try to comfort her with words of 'don't worry' or 'it'll be alright'. He just reached over and took her hand. She looked over at him.

"You're my dad." She was surprised by the vehemence in her own voice, like she was daring him to disagree. He only smiled, but then she added, more softly, "you should have told me."

He nodded. "I wanted to. It's important to know your own story, but your mother was adamant that you never know. She had that way about her...she just had gut feelings." He smiled over at her. "You do that too, you know. You'll meet someone and get the same look in your eye that she did. As if you can see their past, present and future and all they did was shake your hand." He laughed, lost in a reminiscence for a while and stared at the leaping flames. "And then when she got sick, and.." he trailed off. Seven years, and he still couldn't talk about her death. They both couldn't. Better to focus on her life, and Chloé had no problem with that. Her father turned back to her. "I couldn't bring myself to disrespect her wishes. And honestly a part of me didn't want you to know either. I wanted to be your only papa." He shrugged lightly, but she could tell that this weighed heavily on him.

"You are my only papa. He's just some estranged uncle." She watched as her words had a visible effect on her father, as if his entire being became ten pounds lighter in the matter of a few moments.

He smiled brightly now, and then his face became thoughtful. "This calls for a special toast, I think." He walked over the the phone by the door and quickly murmured something to the front desk. A few minutes later, a waiter arrived with a covered plate. He muttered his thanks and set it down on the table between the two chairs.

"Bon appetit!" He said and lifted the lid with a flourish to reveal a plate of shortbread cookies and two hot chocolates. She smiled up at him.

"Mom would approve."

"She'd be so proud of you, ma petite chou."

"Thanks, papa."

That night, after he father had left and she made her way to the Agrestes, she was resolved in what she had to do.

Germain was going down.