In the far future…

Gina stood in the doorway of her mother's study as Marinette was adding some touches to a jacket line that needed to go to print that weekend. Her intern, Debbie, had royally messed up the pattern and Marinette being Marinette had told her it was fine and that no, she wasn't fired, and that she would clean it up, no problem.

That had been six hours ago.

"What's up?" Marinette asked as she leaned in to gently sketch a flower pattern along a sleeve.

Gina jumped, surprised that her mother knew she was there. Honestly, Marinette's spatial awareness had grown exponentially as a parent to the point that she was freaking terrifying.

"Oh, um, well, uh…"

"Spit it out, sweetheart. I'm working." Marinette closed one eye and stuck out her tongue as she sketched, a sure sign she was super-focused.

"Well," Gina held her arm and fidgeted. "Um, I was hoping I could go to the concert tonight? The Anarkists?"

"That's funny," Marinette said. She flipped her pencil over and gently erased a line. "I was hoping you would go to school and not crack a girl in the face with your lunch tray. Looks like both of us are disappointed."

"Mom, come on," Gina said. "I got suspended, I apologized to Madeline, I spoke to Ms. Bourgeois, and I'm working nights to fill in for you. And I already bought the tickets."

Marinette nodded, her focus still on her work. "And Plagg comped you, didn't he?"

Gina's eyes went wide. "You… You remember I said that?"

"Oh love, that day is seared into my brain. It's not like you're out any cash."

Gina put her hands in her pockets. "It's… It's not about the money."

Marinette paused. She set her pencil down and turned to face her daughter. "Then what is it about?"

"I… This was something I could do with Gilen," Gina said in a small voice. "I've blown him off, like, three, four, um a lot of times in a row now and I promised him I wouldn't skip out. He's been patient, but I can tell it's hurting things."

"And this didn't cross your mind when you laid out that girl in the cafeteria?"

Gina looked away. "I already told you that she was bullying André. He'd fight the devil for someone else, but he's not good at standing up for himself. You know that."

Marinette sighed. "I know." She looked at her daughter and noticed the bags under her eyes. "Um, sweetie? When did you get in last night?"

Gina shrugged. "I dunno, one? One thirty?"

Marinette's jaw became unhinged. "And you went to the bakery this morning?"

"You sent me there," Gina pointed out.

"Yes, but… Why were you out so late?"

Gina fidgeted. "I was introducing myself to your team, and then they wanted to play tag. And, um… I got into a fight with Aunt Chloé."

Marinette stared. "How bad?"

Gina pointed at a bruise along her jaw. "She got me pretty good, but I, um, I might have yanked her by the hair and spun her into a dumpster. Face first."

Marinette stared.

"Go to the concert."

Gina blinked. "Wait, what? Is this because I beat up Aunt Chloé?"

Marinette shook her head. "You're incredible, Gina. You just never know when to stop. You're running yourself into the ground, and while you're still grounded… Dammit. I think you've had enough bad happen in the last 24 hours."

Gina smiled and hugged her mother. "Thanks," she said.

"I remember what it was like to have everything pile up while dealing with relationship stuff. Go sort your life out. The hero thing can wait."

Gina grinned and took off, waving. "Thanks again! I love you!"

"You're welcome, and be home by 11."

"What?" Gina called out.

"I SAID BE HOME BY 11!" Marinette cried out.

"…What?" Gina called again, this time from the front door.

Marinette sighed as she heard it close.

"So," Adrien said as he slipped around the corner and into the room. "She smooth-talked you into the concert?"

Marinette frowned and leaned into her husband. "Sometimes I feel like I'm looking at a mirror. She reminds me so much of myself at that age it hurts."

Adrien nodded. "And that's why you let her go?"

"I like Gilen," Marinette said. "And they're pretty rocky right now. I figure this can't hurt things, so, you know. Why not?"

Adrien nodded. He took Marinette's hand and kissed it. "And this doesn't have anything to do with her fighting Chloé?"

Marinette patted him. "Tell you what. You pretend you didn't hear that part, and I'll pretend Plagg didn't pay Gina 400 euros to film my embarrassment when I found out I was pregnant."

Adrien froze. "Wait, WHAT?"

The concert was on the Champ de Mars, and the place was swarming with people. Gina got there quickly enough, but once she arrived, she couldn't find Gilen to save her life.

"Where is he?" She muttered as she cut through the crowds. The music was blaring, and while the band did sound incredible, Gina couldn't focus as she was starting to panic. She could barely hear her phone over the loudspeakers, but she thought it sounded like Gilen's line was going straight to voice mail.

Gina looked around, her stomach dropping. Gilen was insanely competent and responsible, but if she could barely hear, that meant he would be having a helluva time.

"Maybe he got disoriented," Gina thought. She checked the food truck area, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Or maybe he can't hear his phone? Dammit, stupid, handsome, stupid…" Gina muttered.

After twenty minutes of frantic searching, she ran into André. The skinny, blonde youth was hanging out towards the back in an Anarkists tee and enjoying a chili dog.

"André!" Gina yelled. She ran over to him as he waved.

"Hey, you came!" André said, smiling.

Gina charged over, exhausted. She grabbed his arm and said, "André, have you seen Gilen? I looked everywhere and I can't find him!"

André stared at her. "Um, dude. You, he didn't tell you?"

Gina heard André's tone. "Didn't tell me what?"

"That's good but roll into it. Trust your partner."

Alix was arched back and holding a firm arm while extending her own behind her when she heard a frantic knock on her door.

She rolled herself forward and up. "Hold on, Max," she said as she shook her arms out and answered the door to see Gina, wide-eyed and gasping for breath.

"Aunt Alix! I… Are you in a tuxedo?"

Alix grinned and nodded. "It's dance lesson night. Come on in, champ. Say hello to Max Stewart. Max? My niece, Gina."

A man in a tuxedo with slicked back black hair and a small, thin moustache grinned and kissed Gina's hand. "Mademoiselle," he said with a wink.

"Oooookay," Gina said as she pulled her hand back.

"Max is teaching me how to tango," Alix said.

"Which would be easier if you were in a dress," Max huffed.

"Yeah, that ain't happening. So," Alix said as she headed to her kitchen. "Care for a lemonade?"

"Aunt Alix," Gina said. "Is Gilen here? We were supposed to meet at the concert tonight, but I went and I couldn't find him, and André said Gilen wasn't coming, and… What's wrong?"

Gina paused when she saw the look on Alix's face. Alix sighed and turned to her dancing partner. "Sorry Max," she said. She took out her pocket watch. "Fluff, clockwise."

There was a flash of light. Bunnyx walked to Maxwell, took his hand, twirled him to her, and said, "Burrow."

"Burrow?" Max asked, confused.

Alix spun him away. The moment Alix let go, Max screamed as he immediately fell into a white oval. The portal closed with a small pop as Alix turned to face Gina.

"So," Alix said. She went to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses of lemonade. She handed one to Gina. "Gilen went home."

"Like, for the weekend?" Gina asked, confused. "'Cause, like, he knew we had the concert tickets, and he never misses a music show."

"Gina, he went home-home."

Gina stared, still not processing. "…What?" She felt herself starting to shake. "But… But we had a date tonight. We were gonna hit the concert, and then go for a walk…"

Alix put her hand on Gina's shoulder. "Well, he talked with me about that. A lot, actually. Have you really blown off the last three weeks worth of dates?"

Gina looked at Alix and thought about it.

"There was that incident with the train… And the bird akuma… And the Evil Queen akuma… And the suspension… And the night shift. The night shift! Oh crap, we were supposed to hang out last night! I told him we'd… DAMMIT!"

Alix nodded. "So, yeah. He figured you were gonna miss tonight, and, um… I might have agreed with him."

Gina looked at her with tears in her eyes. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I've watched that poor boy mope around for weeks as you blew him off over and over," Alix huffed. "He was cool with it at first, but Gina, the last few times you didn't even call."

"Things were hectic!" Gina cried. "I've been, like, insanely busy! I'm going back in time and helping mom, and the, the bakery, and there was that dinosaur, and…"

"Dinosaur?"

Gina sniffed and nodded. "Last week. You were out of town? Anyway, I just… Tonight was gonna be different."

"Hey," Alix said. "Maybe you should go talk to him?"

Gina nodded. "I guess?"

Alix nodded back and smiled. "Burrow."

Gina blinked. "What?"

Alix shoved Gina into a portal. Gina barely had time to scream before the portal disappeared.

"Right then," Alix said to herself. "Fluff, counterclockwise." Alix appeared once again in her tuxedo. She looked to Fluff. "I'm thinking Chinese tonight. What about you?"

"Three timelines were just changed," Fluff said, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. "I can still hear them. Their layers are crying."

"Right," Alix sighed. She patted Fluff on the head. "Chinese it is."

Hi.

~Ahem~

While I don't like to derail my normal stories all that much, it's time for a special non-linear segment relating to this chapter that wouldn't fit in the notes. Welcome to Learning Fun with Ms. Bun!

The kids in Ms. Mendeleiev's classroom were listless and idly chatting with one another as they waited for their teacher to arrive. It was unusual for her to be late, but admittedly, they weren't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Where do you think she is?" Ondine asked her lab partner. "It's not like her to miss. Like, ever."

Aurore was about to answer when the door to the classroom flew open. A tall redheaded woman wearing Jeans and a green sweater with a white buttoned collar rushed in. She was carrying a laptop under her arm.

"Hey everyone. Good afternoon and settle down. I'm your sub for this afternoon," the redhead called out.

A young man raised his hand. "Where's Ms. Mendeleiev?" He asked.

"Oh, she's out for the moment, Jean," the redhead said as she setup her laptop. "Had some business or some such to take care of. I'm just here for a cameo."

"A what?" Mireille asked, confused.

The redhead looked up from her computer. "A cameo. Like, when a special guest appears in a show? Come on, you're on TV, Mireille. You know what this is."

Mireille shook her head. "But, this is a classroom. No one's watching us."

The redhead shrugged without looking up from her laptop. "Yeah, well according to the comments section, people are reading, so there."

Mireille stared. "What?"

Aurore raised her hand.

"No more questions," the redhead snapped. "Look, be thankful you all made an appearance. Chances are, half the readers won't even realize you're actual characters. Okay," the redhead stood and straightened her sweater. "My name is Ms. Bun, and today, we're going to learn some history!"

"But," Ondine said. "This is science class."

"An excellent observation, Ondine!" Ms. Bun said as she fired up the projector on the desk. Behind her, a grainy, black and white video started playing. "This, my dear temporary students, is Maxwell Stewart. Ole' Max here was the first repeat winner of the World Ballroom Dance Champions. That's him talking."

Ms. Bun smiled as the man, Max, fidgeted on camera. "Awww, look at him! He's kinda nervous, but this was filmed nine years after his last win, so he's a little out of practice with the public at this point."

"Wait, what?" Jean asked, confused.

"I agree, Jean. But remember, this was after his prime." Ms. Bun agreed. "Max was the first consecutive winner, the actual first being Victor Sylvester back in 1922, but he was a one-off and the competition was still getting it's legs under it. In fact, they cancelled the 1923 competition due to the financial crisis at the time messing everything up, but starting in 1924, Maxy here won with the lovely Barbara Miles on his arm. In fact, they won two years in a row, but then Barbara was traded out for Pat Sykes who helped him win in '26, '28, and finally in 1930."

"Is that her?" Mireille asked.

Ms. Bun glanced at the screen and chuckled. "Nah, that's Peggy Rose. Ole Peg here never won, but she sure as Hell should've. Girl was smooth a silk on the dance floor, and she could hold her own at the bars. Helluva drinking buddy. Or so I've heard. This video is from 1939. Max is losing some hair here, and he had essentially retired to a conductor-slash-instructor role by this time, but he was good. He was really good. And when he held you close? God, he had this amazing scent about him, like a mixture of mint, leather, shoe polish, and a faint hint of rolled cigars, but not like the kind you'd smell today. I'm talking Princeps." Ms. Bun closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as she remembered. "He smelled like your grandfather's tool shed, but a tad more refined. It was great. Slightly hot, but that's neither here nor there."

Ms. Bun turned to the extremely confused class. "Granted, there were other champions, and some that won far more times than Max. Heck, Arunas Bizokas and Katusha Demidova won a staggering ten times in a row, with their latest win being in 2018, but that doesn't change the fact that Max had some class to his step. He did it back when it was simple and streamlined. Helluva teacher, too. Oh, here's the link if you want to watch at home."

Ms. Bun passed out slips of paper with a web address printed on them.

"Well," Ms. Bun said, dusting off her hands and unhooking her laptop. "That's been my informative follow-up to your reading today. If you have questions, your regular teacher can address them."

"Um," Ondine asked. "What reading?"

"Thanks for having me, class. And hey, Aurore? Keep it down next time, will you? It's rude to interrupt."

Aurore was about to comment, but just as quickly as the eccentric redhead had entered the classroom, she was gone. A minute later, Ms. Mendeleiev quickly entered the room.

"My apologies class," she said, slightly out of breath. "Someone accidentally locked me in the restroom. Now," she straightened her lab coat. "Shall we begin today's lesson?"