Set after the events of Season 3 and the New York special, way in the future. We're pretty much ignoring season 4 and the Shanghai special. I plan for this to be a multi-chapter fic, but it is unclear how long it will be. Very likely it will be a two-shot.
Warning for blood and implied dark themes.
Une
The umbrella handle is warm from his touch, but Marinette feels something even warmer burn in her chest, and all she can think is Oh as she watches him walk away. The rain soaks his gold-spun hair, his Agreste-brand clothes, and she realizes that this boy is too good for this world.
After all, why would he sacrifice his comfort for hers?
Deux
Marinette keeps her mouth shut about the scarf because Adrien is so happy — she can't take that away from him. She will never take that away from him. His father doesn't give him any gifts, and if this makes his face light up and his eyes sparkle and put a skip in his step —
Well, Marinette is willing to make a sacrifice of her own.
Trois
If you take away Ladybug from Marinette, she would lose her sense of freedom, of soaring through the sky with invisible wings, of the constant thrill of serving Hawkmoth justice day after day. More importantly, she would lose someone valuable to her — Chat Noir. As much as she rebuffs the ridiculous cat, she can't deny having a soft spot for him, and a part of her knows that she would die for him.
She's only fourteen, and she's already thinking about dying.
So while she watches Chat Noir endure hit after hit, curse after curse, and emerge from the harrowing experience with renewed determination, she envies him. She envies his unwavering loyalty to her, his unfaltering faith in her, and his unswerving need to comfort her during pitfalls. It's as if he's only devoted to her wellbeing and well, she doesn't like how she's reciprocating his gestures.
So before she departs with Carapace, with Alya filming her words, she tells him, "You know you're irreplaceable."
The little smile that appears on his face is mollifying, and Ladybug feels even guiltier.
Quatre
Adrien's smile is sweet, sweeter than the ice cream he holds in his hand, and all of his sunshine is for Kagami. Marinette's heart plummets but somehow, somehow she musters the nerve to return his smile and walks away from the boy she loves. She might love him even more now.
The irony is heart-wrenching.
Her resolve falters for a second and she looks over her shoulder, dreading what she might see, and she's right — Adrien leans close to Kagami, swipes some ice cream off her lip, and they're about to kiss.
She can't watch this anymore. She has to get over him. She can't live like this for the rest of her life, embittered by something beyond her control.
Sitting next to Luka, her legs dangling over the Seine as he plays a song for her might be a good place to start.
Cinq
Annoyingly, she can't get over Adrien. The trip to New York sucker-punches her back to square one because that boy is just too damn lovable. And she's a hopeless, lovestruck idiot with a propensity for making a fool out of herself in front of him.
It doesn't help that said boy is utterly oblivious to what he's doing to her. Dancing in the air while bathed in the moonlight? His heartbreaking, sorrowful eyes are etched into her memories as she screams for him to stay, stay, stay —
Don't leave me —
Because she's in too deep.
Six
Chat Noir is noticeably more distant during battles. He doesn't stop talking to her, per se, but he's not as flirtatious anymore. Less winking, fewer love declarations, fewer my lady's, and it's almost unsettling. She appreciates him laying off on the romantic advances, though, but it's like there's a gaping hole in their dialogue.
She's just Ladybug to him now, and that...that doesn't sound right. She's become so used to My Lady and Bugaboo, so much so that Ladybug sounds foreign coming from his mouth. He behaves differently around her too, like he's more on edge.
Like he's...warier around her and the invisible boundary she'd set between them. But he's never felt farther from her than he does now.
Ladybug reels in her yoyo and glances at her partner, who darts into the battle in her stead. Their communication is practically seamless, and he is a whirlwind of movements. Block, thrust, retreat, dodge. The akuma villain's blade sweeps towards him and he doesn't have enough time to move, but Ladybug is quicker and flings her yoyo at the villain. She'd intended to hit his face, but she hits his arm instead, which is just as effective. Growling, the villain backs away, its furious yellow eyes narrowing.
"You're welcome!" she calls to Chat, not moving her eyes from the villain's body. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpses his cheeky grin, but there's no quip. No silly, utter ridiculous remark.
Ladybug shakes herself. She's supposed to be concentrating on the akuma, not the way Chat Noir constantly unsettles her.
But she can't help but wonder...her eyes wander for a heartbeat, and the villain sees his opportunity and lunges for her, blade swinging, and Ladybug barely leaps back, avoiding the sharp edge by the skin of her teeth.
Yeah, Chat Noir could be dealt with later.
Sept
Marinette doesn't know how or when or why, but Adrien...grew.
Suddenly his clothes are too tight-fitting, his skin has a healthier glow, and he is suave and charming. He towers over her now by two heads and she has to cran her neck to look at him. Somewhere along the way, he'd also become more touchy-feely, and every time he so much as brushes his hand against hers while they walk, she burns.
And the day he wears a leather jacket for the first time, Marinette feels lightheaded and has to request a pass for the nurse's office. In reality, she can not bear to be in the same room as him for another second, watching as the tight leather stretches across his back muscles. She knows Adrien is in good shape, but the loose jacket had hidden all of that.
Marinette will never admit to drooling, but Alya texts her an unflattering picture of Marinette practically foaming at the mouth and her face bright red.
Merde, had Adrien seen her looking like that? He probably thinks she's a loser.
She's a lovesick one, though, and way in over her head.
Huit
And just as Adrien's transformation reaches its full height, Marinette's feelings reach an all-time low.
"I think I need to do this," she tells Alya one afternoon while they're babysitting Manon and Alya's younger sisters. Nora chases them around and their gleeful, mischievous giggles ring through the park. "It's what's best for me."
"But Marinette, you can't give up on him!" Alya protests desperately. "You've been in love with him for years, and you can't just let him go —"
"That's exactly why I have to do it," Marinette says, staring at her feet. She'd never outgrown those beloved, tried-and-true ballet slippers of hers. "I'm giving up because I love him and I can't force him to fall in love with me. He's a human with feelings, just like me, and he can choose what he wants to do with his love life."
"That was insightful of you," Alya says after a moment. Marinette blinks, surprised by the lack of resistance. "But are you sure?"
"I'm tired of looking like a bumbling idiot around him," Marinette confesses. "I can't even talk to him without stuttering and mixing up my words. I don't want him to get the wrong impression of me."
"He admires you, girl. You impressed him through that bowler hat competition, that fashion show, and — "
"No." Marinette finally looks up at her friend. "Those — that's not how I wanted to connect with him, through something else. I want him to know me. Who I am. Even though we've known each other for what, five years, he barely knows anything about me. He just knows I live in a bakery and I'm a decent artist and that I like Ultimate Mecha Strike. That's not something you build a relationship on, you know?" She searches Alya's face and is relieved to find understanding.
"I get it," Alya sighs. "I just wish it had happened."
"...Me too." Marinette can't believe she's arrived at this point, but her infatuation had to end at some point, right? She's eighteen-years-old, a Guardian of the most powerful beings in existence, a superhero responsible for the safety of her city, and has her whole life ahead of her. She's got more important things to focus on than love.
Even if she has to break her own heart.
Neuve
She doesn't know what this feeling is but it is glorious. Maybe it's because she can truly enjoy herself around Adrien and let her personality override her feelings for him. Those feelings never evaporated, but she's learned to manage them and have fun with her friend, Adrien.
She never thought she'd be huddled with him under an umbrella (an umbrella of all things) and sprinting through the pouring rain, splashing through puddles and kicking up the pooling water behind them, and they're laughing. Laughing, as in full-throttle, bust-your-gut laughter. Marinette's stomach aches, her hair is plastered to her forehead, and she's drenched to the bone, but it's all worth it. Worth the beautiful smile on Adrien's face as he gazes at her with something like amazement.
"Think we lost him?" she pants, glancing over her shoulder for any sign of Adrien's bodyguard. She shouldn't be this out of breath — not from the exertion, but perhaps it's from the giddiness, the heady rush of adrenaline coursing through her body.
Adrien's eyes snap away from hers and he looks around, green eyes bright and appraising. "We lost him," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain, as if he can't believe it. "We're home free!"
"You should've seen the look on his face," she says, giggling. "He looked like he wanted to quit right then and there."
"I hope he doesn't," says Adrien vehemently, and Marinette blinks at him, surprised. She thought Adrien hated his home life. "He's been there in...in my father's absence."
That made more sense.
"Marinette," he says softly. Marinette starts, emerging from her sudden bout of pity for this boy. So kind, so full of love...no one to give it to. "Thank you...thank you for everything. Your friendship means a lot to me."
For the first time, Marinette doesn't feel upset at her label as a friend. She's proud of that label, and she wants to make sure Adrien knows it. "You mean a lot to me too, Adrien," she says, placing a hand on his chest and meeting his eyes. She hears his breath catch and rushes on before she descends into a stammering, rambling disaster. "You're one of my best friends and I would give you the world if it made you happy. I…" She teeters on I love you, but she's still that girl who can't — or isn't ready — to say those three words yet. To anyone.
Thankfully, Adrien halts her before she can say anything she'd regret later. "Thank you," he repeats sincerely. "Just know that I'd do the same for you. Give you the world, I mean." The poor boy trails off, coloring, and Marinette releases him from his cage of awkwardness.
"It's okay. I understand."
It's the closest thing to a love confession she's ever going to get to, but it's more than enough. She got to express all the pent up feelings she'd had for him for years and summed it up in a friendship context.
Tikki would be proud of her.
(This friendship thing might not be so bad after all.)
Dix
The problem with falling out of love with someone is that your heart opens up to other possibilities — it looks for healing, for hope. Someone who's always been at your side, loyal to you through the toughest times, steadfast through the ups and downs, and seen you at your worst.
Someone who'd always been at her side, but she'd never considered it as a possibility until now.
It was inevitable — she'd broken down in front of him numerous times, and he'd always pulled her back from the brink of collapse. He always knew how to cheer her up, comfort her, tell her she was enough, and everything. He'd even pushed aside his infatuation for her aside and supported her in loving someone else.
Chat Noir was a person who sacrificed but didn't expect much in return.
They'd made a promise when they were fifteen to not let anything get between them — Ladybug didn't ever want a repeat of Chat Blanc — and so far, they'd held out well, through many attempts by Hawkmoth to split them apart and turn them against each other. With Ladybug as the Guardian, trust is no longer a luxury — it's a necessity. She has more responsibility than ever to protect the city as well as the precious jewelry which could fall in the wrong hands if she isn't careful.
Many wondered about the absence of the other Miraculous users — Why hasn't Ladybug returned their Miraculous? — and Ladybug is frustrated.
"They know perfectly why I can't return their Miraculous to them," she rants to Chat Noir one evening. A brisk breeze bites into her cheeks and she's grateful for the thickness of her suit. "And there's nothing to return because the Miraculous doesn't belong to them! I'm allowed to choose whoever I want!" She huffs, feeling like a petulant child, but dammit she's been shouldering this responsibility since she was thirteen, and she deserves the right to whine to her superhero partner.
Chat, to his credit, doesn't look at all appalled by her very un-superhero-like behavior. He's tired too, she can tell from the dark circles under his eyes that look just like hers, and he's always hinted at having a busier schedule than Ladybug. And he doesn't have a pleasant home life either.
Ladybug thrusts her yoyo at him, open to a particular news article that had made her nearly hurl her phone across her bedroom. "Look at this."
Chat's cat eyes scan over the article and he sighs, sounding resigned. "I saw that this morning and I hate that we can't do anything about it. Believe me, I'd march down the news station myself and threaten them with my cataclysm if I could."
Ladybug huffed again. "That won't be necessary, but I appreciate the sentiment. If I had a worse reputation…" She trails off, glaring at the setting sun. It hurts her eyes.
"Maybe we can release an official statement?" Chat suggests. "We are pretty credible, and if it came from the source itself, those news stations would have no fodder to spin false stories from…" He snorts.
"Maybe," Ladybug allows, the thought marinating in her head. "Maybe we could hold a press conference to deal with any rumors circulating about us. That way we can put everyone's mind at rest."
"That sounds like a good idea,' Chat agrees. Rolling his eyes, he adds, "I hope you're ready to deflect questions about our love lives, like always."
Ladybug smiles. "That's become second nature to me. I'm more concerned about the rumors that certain people might be spreading about us. Lies, more like." She doesn't mention a name, but they both know who she's referring to. "It would be a prime opportunity to debunk those lies."
"But they might just come up with another lie." Chat sighs again, cracking his knuckles and stretching. "There's no way of silencing those people, is there?"
"Not unless you use your cataclysm on them," she jokes, earning a smile from Chat. "But seriously, I want to put an end to this rumor mill. I don't understand why people feel the need to gossip and make assumptions about us."
"Because we're famous, Bug," Chat states candidly. "And to top it off, we're people of mystery. Nobody knows the real us — who we are as civilians, and things going on in our private lives. They gossip because they want to be involved in what everyone's talking about."
Ladybug studies him, surprised by his insightfulness. "You say that like you have experience," she says. "Like you're not new to this."
Chat freezes for half a second before his megawatt smile slides into place. "As Chat Noir, everyone wants a piece of me," he boasts. "It's hard to not be adored when you're as awesome as I am."
There he is, covering up something personal with a bad joke, but Ladybug doesn't press him, instead falling into a natural routine. "Or more like when you're as vain as you are," she teases him. Chat pouts.
"You wound me! Not all of us are born as beautiful as I am." He runs his claws through his hair and yelps when they get caught in one of the blonde locks. Ladybug's too busy laughing at him to retort. She half-expects a flirty remark from him because there's a gaping opening, but he doesn't take it.
…
Ladybug's smile is strained as she looks out into the crowd, flashbulbs exploding in her face. You'd think she'd be used to it, but somehow it's impossible to get used to. Especially when she's under pressure.
"Ladybug! Ladybug!" Ladybug wants to cover her ears and curl up in a ball. It's only Chat Noir's presence that keeps her from doing so — he gives her a small, reserved smile, and she has a surge of confidence.
"You, in the tweed jacket." Pointing at him, she braces herself.
"Antoine Bernard, Le Figaro," the man introduces himself. "Ladybug, is it true that you don't plan to bring back Rena Rouge, Carapace, and the other heroes?"
Ladybug smiles politely, gripping the edge of the podium and gathering herself. "As I have maintained over the years," she says, "I don't plan on using the same holders, because Hawkmoth learned of their identities years ago." Wasn't that obvious? , she adds sarcastically, Why do you insist upon digging up old bones?
Another explosion of bulbs. Ladybug takes in a breath and settles her gaze on someone else — a woman in a smart blue suit. "Gabrielle Renard, Libération," she says, adjusting her glasses. "Ladybug, do you ever plan on bringing in new heroes?"
Ladybug purses her lips. She has an answer ready; she and Chat had rehearsed last night. "Chat Noir and I are not ruling out the idea completely," she says. "But we are...cautious after the last time we entrusted Miraculouses to those heroes because we are aware that we are risking their identities being exposed and their families being put in danger. We must consider that first." She hesitates, wanting to elaborate, but any more information would open up another round of questions.
Questions she does not have the answers for.
…
After answering a few more questions, Ladybug takes her leave and Chat Noir follows her. They escape to the other side of the city where it would take the paparazzi forever to catch up to them, let alone find them. Ladybug sits on a roof, her legs dangling, and Chat Noir remains standing.
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if you even need me there," Chat says, scuffing his boot on the roof. "You handled that flawlessly."
No. I always need you. The thought springs to life immediately and Ladybug is startled by its intensity. "I made a few mistakes," she admitted, "but those weren't questions that would start anything big."
"Well, you handled the first two questions well," Chat says encouragingly. "The rest are questions that people should already know the answer to. No, we're not madly in love, yes, we're just friends, yes, we're trying to defeat Hawkmoth."
Ladybug cracks a wan smile. "Thank you," she says in a sudden fit of gratitude. "Thank you for supporting me and always being at my side. I couldn't have done any of the things I've done these last few years without you."
Three or four years ago, a confession like that hadn't even existed in her mind — sure, she'd had those thoughts, but it hadn't been cemented. But, after all this time, after countless battles and conversations and having each other's backs, she knows she means this wholeheartedly.
Ladybug is not the same girl she'd been when she'd first received her Miraculous, and Chat is not the same boy, they're practically adults now, and they don't have the same conversation they used to have. Life's meaning extends beyond banter, love, and jealousy. Those are trivial things in the grand scheme of things.
Ladybug bites her lip and glances at her partner, delving into thoughts that scare her, yet warm her heart.
The scariest thought is that spending her life with this boy — man — is not so unappealing, and worse, she would be okay with it.
Onze
Ladybug's heart is pounding. She can hear each beat in a crescendo, and the climax is her heart stopping entirely.
Blood drips onto the pavement.
This is the first time Hawkmoth has hurt anyone, physically hurt anyone, and Ladybug sees red. The bastard has gone too far.
"Ladybug — " Chat's voice is far, far away as she stares at the cut on his cheek. Crimson, scarlet, vermillion, red blood is cascading from the wound, and she can't see anything but that. Drip drip drip.
"My Lady!" The sound of the nickname emerging from retirement jolts her back to reality, but the rage is still fresh.
"Kitty," she whispers, and the nickname makes him pause. "Don't. You're h-hurt."
The very real possibility that Chat Noir could be mortally wounded hits her like lightning and she hiccups. After all, one cut is not fatal, but if one cut can happen, so can more, and Hawkmoth can — will test the limits of his powers. He could design more lethal akuma, send them after the heroes, and Chat has an unyielding hero complex. Chat Noir could get hurt.
Chat Noir could d-d—
Before she can complete the thought and allow it to paralyze her, Chat's hands grip her shoulders. His suit may have transformed over the years to match his growing body, but his kwami had kept the clawed gloves, and they hold fast to her shoulders. He gazes at her for a split second, and in that split second Ladybug has a closer look at the bleeding cut.
Something breaks in her and she throws her arms around Chat, holding him to her like he's her lifeline, the only thing tethering her to reality and sanity.
She can't lose this lifeline. Chat's trust, loyalty, faith, comfort, awful puns — she needs it all.
And that's when she realizes how truly important Chat Noir is, and that changes everything.
Douze
"I'm leaving."
"You're what?" Ladybug's jaw unhinges, and she's certain she looks unattractive — not that it ever mattered to Chat.
Chat sighs, not looking at her. "I have to...fuck, I'm not explaining this well, am I?" He chuckles wryly, swinging his legs in a futile attempt to stall. He can swing his legs farther than her because he's always been taller than her. Even when she'd hit her growth spurt in lycee, the distance between their heads had remained roughly the same.
Not that she'd been thinking about the distance between their heads, and how she could stand on her tiptoes and close the gap between them. Not in that sense, anyway.
"Chat," Ladybug says slowly, "what do you mean?"
"I have to go out of town," he whispers. "Work trip. I'll be in Milan for two weeks."
"Oh." She thinks back to their New York trip, how they'd tried to communicate with a toy. She wouldn't be trying that again, after that disaster. "I can handle it by myself," she says with more confidence than she feels. "How many akuma is Hawkmoth going to send out in two weeks, anyway?"
When they'd been fourteen, it had been two or three a week. Now there's one every day, and Ladybug wants to break down the doors of Hawkmoth's home and strangle him with her yoyo.
She can't handle this alone — she needs Chat, and not just because of his destructive power. She doesn't know how much she can take. He can't leave.
Judging by the expression on his face, illuminated by ominous orange light from the lamp below, he doesn't want to leave, either.
Ladybug forces herself to smile, laboring under the illusion of happiness. "I'll be fine, Chaton," she says with false cheer. "I've handled akuma on my own before. Remember when you were —" She almost says Chat Blanc, but he doesn't remember that, and it's best to leave it where it is "— brainwashed by Puppeteer? Or by Princess Fragrance?" She glimpses Chat's wince and knows he doesn't like to remember those days. Even if it was a long time ago, he wouldn't let those same mistakes happen again.
"I know you can handle it," Chat says, and it might be her imagination, but he sounds a little sad. "You've always had everything under control."
At this point, Ladybug would've pitied him and redirected the conversation, but she's done with that. Chat is hiding something. Some buried feelings, something he doesn't want to show or tell her about — well, the time for sensitivity is gone. It's just her and him, and they can strip away the layers.
"Chat," she asks, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she scoots closer to him until their legs brush and she can feel the cold, smooth leather through her suit. "What's wrong?"
Chat's eyes flash. She'd always secretly loved the green irises, they'd reminded her of someone dear to her, and the boy who'd once laid claim to her heart without realizing it.
"Nothing's wrong," he hisses through clenched teeth. "I'm fine." He doesn't move away.
"You're not fine," Ladybug presses, growing irritated. "You look like you've swallowed something gross."
Chat's expression shifts subtly. "I'm fine," he repeats.
Someone save her from this infuriating, stubborn boy. Barely refraining from calling him something unpleasant, she snaps, "Chat Noir, I can't help you if you keep acting like this. Would you please just talk to me?"
Chat growls, standing up and moving away from her, and Ladybug's surprise is overruled by her indignance. If she keeps prodding him, maybe he'll crack. "Chat, please, I'm really worried about you. You can't keep torturing yourself like this —"
"No, Ladybug, you don't understand!" He finally caves and Ladybug takes a step as wave after wave of anger and frustration rolls off of him, threatening to sweep her away. He's glaring at her. She's never seen him like this.
"You don't understand," he repeats, his breathing ragged and his voice tight and sharp. "I — I don't want to leave you. I can't leave you because no one will be there to protect you and if you get — Hawkmoth is trying to kill us to get our Miraculouses." His body is shaking, and Ladybug wants nothing more than to embrace him and be his pillar of support, but she senses that he needs this moment.
"What if — what if something happens to you — I can't — I don't want to lose you."
Ladybug can't describe the hot emotions that surge through her chest, but she chokes on it, reaching for him instinctively. He lets her pull him into her arms, lets her hold him tight, and she swears she hears a muffled sob coming from him.
They're standing on the Eiffel Tower bathed in moonlight and wrapped around each other, in the city of love, crying like their hearts are breaking.
"I'm not made of glass, Chaton," she whispers, her voice carrying in the breeze. "I won't — I won't break, and I won't let him hurt me."
"Just...just promise me something." He pulls away from her, and his fingers are ghosts against her skin as they wipe away the tears. "Promise you'll...you'll give him your earrings if he...he tries to do something to you. I would rather you willingly give up your Miraculous than have him pry it from your cold, lifeless body." He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, and she's suddenly aware of how close they are — but the astonishing part is that she doesn't feel inclined to push him away.
Ladybug can't breathe. "Chat," she begins, and then stops, unsure of what to say. To be honest, she doesn't know what answer would ease his worries. "...Okay, I'll do that."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
…
"Chat Noir was mysteriously absent from this battle."
One stitch, two stitches, three stitches…
"Ladybug was able to defeat the akuma on her own, but without Chat Noir's cataclysm, there was a lot more damage. Thankfully, Ladybug was able to fix everything."
Marinette yelps as she pierces her finger with the needle. Growling with frustration, she picks up the needle and unravels the botched stitch.
"Witnesses reported that Ladybug was hurt during the fight. Pictures sent in from an anonymous source show that the superheroine was struck numerous times across the face, reportedly breaking through skin."
Unconsciously, Marinette touches her cheek — she can still feel the sting, even though the magical ladybugs had sealed the skin.
"What is happening to our heroes? With Hawkmoth and Mayura growing more dangerous by the day, will the heroes be able to get out of this unscathed? And are our heroes as invincible like they once were?"
"Chat is going to be out of his mind," Marinette murmurs to Tikki, who is sitting on her shoulder and observing Marinette's efforts in silence. "He's already worried about me, and this is going to worry him even more."
"There's no guarantee that he saw the news," Tikki says optimistically, but they both know that that's a lie. They knew for a fact that Chat Noir lived on the Ladyblog.
"I bet it's killing him that we're cut off," Marinette says. "I should've given him my email address or my phone number or something — why didn't I think of doing anything?"
"Because you couldn't have without revealing your identity," Tikki reminds her.
Marinette sighs, her vision going out of focus as her mind works. What if —?
No, she couldn't. She'd told him as much, many years ago. It was too risky.
But if it is the only way…
"Tikki," she says quietly, "what if I did reveal my identity to him? What would happen?"
Tikki just gazes at her with large, wide blue eyes. "I think you know what would happen," she replies evasively.
Marinette sighs, stretching her arms. It seemed as though she had a lot to think about tonight.
…
She doesn't tell him.
Treize
Chat takes one hit for her, two, three — after the sixth hit, she can't take it anymore and shoves him out of range as the missile soars towards her. Knocking it aside with her yoyo, she flashes Chat a knowing look and steps back into the battle.
After the battle, she asks him to recharge and meet her on their favorite rooftop, the one overlooking the Seine, where she plans to talk to him.
Only he doesn't show up.
After about five minutes of pacing on the roof, she opens her yoyo's texting feature and angrily starts typing a message, but halts when a new message pops up on her screen.
Sorry, can't make it.
But why?
Quatorze
Marinette twirls around in front of the long mirror, admiring her handmade dress that looks like it was professionally. Even she's proud of it — and that's saying something, given that she is her own harshest critic. She'd paid for the fabric with her babysitting money, hand-stitched and sewed it up, and it is the prettiest garment she's ever made.
"Damn, girl," Alya says appreciatively when she walks up to the ice cream cart. "Is that another original Marinette?"
Marinette nods and her eyes reflexively move to Adrien to gauge his reaction. He's wearing a smile, but it almost seems fixed in place — his model smile. Does he not like her dress?
"What do you think, Adrien?" she asks him pointedly. Adrien snaps out of whatever daze he's in and gives her a real smile that warms Marinette from the inside.
"It's stunning, Marinette."
Nino tells her the same, with a few "Dude!"s scattered throughout, and Marinette is even more pleased with herself.
Until she looks over at Adrien, and the smile he'd given her has frozen on his face again. Marinette resists a frown. Perhaps he was just having an off day.
Something she could relate to.
"I was thinking we could go to the Pont Des Arts," Alya says, linking arms with Marinette and already dragging her in the direction of the bridge. "I heard Andre the ice cream man is going to be there."
"Heard, or were you stalking social media all afternoon to pinpoint his location?" Marinette ribs her friend.
Alya shrugs unabashedly. "Guilty. I'm not even sorry because it's ice cream."
Marinette laughs, letting herself be towed away by an eager Alya.
The sun's dying rays illuminate the street as they stroll, Marinette and Alya leading, and Nino falling back to join Adrien. It's like old times, except Marinette doesn't have butterflies in her stomach at the thought of spending time with her crush. She's just looking forward to spending the evening with her friends.
The thought itself is freeing.
As Alya chatters away about her sisters and her journalist internship at the local newspaper, Marinette lets her attention drift while keeping one ear on Alya in case she needs to respond. The thing about Alya is that she can go on for hours without needing a reply, which Marinette is fine with that — she loves listening to her friend, and the less she has to talk about her own life, the better because she'd rather not talk about her lack of love life, a particular subject Alya is interested in.
Paris is beautiful during sunset, she thinks idly, and unconsciously her eyes migrate to the Eiffel Tower, looming over the city. I wonder what Chat is doing right now. Is he out with his friends too?
Adrien laughs at something Nino says and Marinette's attention is drawn to the sound. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she smiles at the sight of Adrien's happy face. His age has been stripped away from his personality, leaving behind the Adrien she'd loved as a girl. Innocent. Jovial. Emanating sunshine.
Vulnerable.
"...So, girl, tell me, how have you been?" Marinette starts as the spotlight is put on her. "Anything new? Especially in..." She purses her lips meaningfully. "In your love life?"
Marinette stifles a sigh. "Nothing new," she says dryly.
"Hm." Alya gazes at Marinette, something unreadable in her eyes. Finally, she puts her thoughts into words. "What about —"
Here we go, she thinks, steeling herself.
" — Luka?"
Alya...is asking about Luka? Since when —?
"What about Luka?" she asks, stalling for time as her mind searches for an adequate response.
"I can see the way he looks at you," Alya continues, smiling mysteriously. "I think he wouldn't be opposed if you were...to make a move."
"But I don't want to, Alya," Marinette says, "because I like the way things are right now. I thought I liked him once, but over the years, I've realized that I couldn't ever love him as more than a friend."
Not a bad response, and Alya looks mollified.
"Besides," Marinette plows on, just to drive the point home, "I'm only eighteen. I don't need to think about dating yet."
"Marinette, having a boyfriend isn't the worst thing in the world," Alya points out gently, and Marinette suddenly (and guiltily) remembers that Alya has a boyfriend. "While I don't need Nino, it's nice having that companionship, y'know?"
"You don't need a boyfriend for that," Marinette says, though Alya's statement is like a thorn pricking her heart — that she doesn't have anyone.
No — she's wrong. She has Chat, but does that really count? She sees him only during akuma attacks and the occasional patrol. But he is someone she can rely on to have her back…
"You're not wrong," Alya admits, "but Marinette, apart from me, Nino, and Adrien, who do you have to rely on? I don't mean any offense, but you...you don't have many others who are truly your friends."
Marinette's first instinct is to lash out, but the mature Marinette thinks seriously about what Alya is saying. It's true, she doesn't have anyone to lean on. Even though she has three wonderful friends and a dependable superhero partner, she doesn't have a solid group. Over the years, she'd grown closer to the three of them and started phasing out her classmates without realizing it. She exclusively hangs out with these three and adventures with her classmates are rare.
She'd thrown herself into her Ladybug duties and the foundation of her career. She hadn't really focused on other things, especially her personal relationships, and that was her fault.
To her gratitude, Alya doesn't force the issue and changes the subject as they approach the bridge, where they can hear Andre singing.
In any case, she has something else to think about now.
Quinze
"I renounce you, Plagg."
The ensuing silence is punctured by the sound of Marinette's gasp, and Chat finally musters the words, words that tug at her heartstrings and snap them in half. "I never want to risk harming anyone ever again, least of all you."
Alarm surges through her. "Wait!" she shouts and quickly claps her hands to her face as Chat's footsteps echo through the sewer, growing fainter. She thinks she hears a muffled sob, but she can't be sure.
However, she is certain that she shouldn't have let him go.
"—bug? Are you still with me?" Chat waves a hand in front of her face, sounding concerned, and Ladybug snaps out of her memories. Something fiery, something scalding hot latches onto her lungs and claws its way up to her throat.
"Are you okay?" Chat asks, a note of panic in his voice. "You look —"
"I'm fine." The overwhelming tide recedes, and Ladybug is left feeling empty. Strangely, she doesn't feel guilty for lying. "I'm okay."
Seize
Their Miraculouses had strictly been for akumas, not espionage (at least, that's what Chat Noir believes, and Ladybug doesn't admit to anything), but this — this is a special case. Someone had been stealing paintings from the Louvre and escaping the police on a nightly basis, and out of desperation, the police had approached the two superheroes. Ladybug had been reluctant at first, but after one of the more valuable paintings had been stolen, she relented.
Chat's black suit is a perfect camouflage outfit, but Ladybug stands out like a sore thumb with her red suit. She wishes she'd had the foresight to request a disguise from Tikki.
("You'll be immediately spotted in that," Chat says and Ladybug lightly socks his shoulder.)
This is why she's the one perched on one of the rafters of the ceiling and Chat Noir is tucked behind a statue — she only knows he's there because of the bright green of his eyes as they look up at her. Plagg had given him a hood too, to cover his blond hair, and it seems as though Chat had come more prepared than Ladybug.
She's losing her touch.
C'mon, she thinks as the seconds tick by, her hand wrapped around her yoyo and her muscles tensed.
She almost doesn't hear the thief, so light-footed and wraith-like, but she sees Chat's eyes blink up at her meaningfully — his heightened sense of hearing — and she can make out the silhouette of a slender figure, and —
Chat quietly extends his staff — only Ladybug hears the click — and sweeps it lightly over the floor, sweeping the thief gently off their feet, and sending them careening into —
Ladybug's arm tenses as she feels pressure and a slight tugging on her yoyo, and she yanks it back. With a snap, the string tautens, and everything else falls (literally) into place.
Chat Noir uses his staff to turn on the light. Ladybug uses her yoyo to lower herself to the ground and a smirk curves her lips as she finally receives her first look at the thief.
What's even funnier is that they are wearing a spider mask, just like the police had described.
"Looks like you were caught in Ladybug's web," Chat purrs, and Ladybug presses her lips together in a futile attempt to control her amusement. The thief says nothing. Chat looks dismayed by the lack of responses.
Ladybug doesn't release her yoyo web as she walks forward, but she speaks into her communicator. "We've got them." Roger Raincomprix orders his policemen to advance.
"W-Wait." A hoarse croak coming from beneath the mask halts Ladybug in her tracks. "L-Let me explain." Slowly, with jerky movements, the thief peels off the mask, and Ladybug's breath hitches. It's a girl, about her age, and she looks frightened.
"You've got the wrong person," she says shakily. When Ladybug opens her mouth to argue, she continues, "Yes, it was me who stole those paintings, but I was ordered to."
The ground tilts beneath Ladybug's feet and the oxygen is sucked out of her lungs. Ordered? That meant —
"Get her!" Policemen charge in, rushing straight for the girl, but Ladybug shouts at them. panicked. "Stop!" Her shout goes unheard in the chaos.
There's an audible click and Chat's staff shoots through the web in a blur of silver, forcing the leader — Roger — to skid to a stop in order to avoid being impaled. Upon seeing their leader pause, the rest of the policemen stop too. Ladybug marvels briefly at her partner's aim and quick thinking but sobers as the girl takes a shuddering breath.
"Wait," Ladybug orders, her voice carrying through the air and causing a stir among the ranks. "We need to speak to this girl." She yanks her yoyo and the string loosens. With another hard yank, it collapses around the girl. Ladybug half-expects her to run — she'd eluded the police before — but she just wraps her arms around herself and just looks...small and not intimidating whatsoever.
"But Ladybug, she —"
An inexplicable rush of...something courses through her, something like frustration, and she shouldn't be feeling this way. Officer Roger is just trying to do his job.
"Don't worry," she says, her voice tight and barely controlled, "you can take her away once I'm finished." She almost adds so go buy a donut or something, but that would be unprofessional and frankly, petty and uncalled for.
"Come here," Ladybug coaxes, softening her voice and her focus just on the girl. "I promise nobody will hurt you."
The girl peeks at her through her eyelashes, and if possible she looks even more anxious. Ladybug stares at her, her voice low and meant for just the girl's ears. "I won't let anyone hurt you."
The girl looks up, and Ladybug is momentarily taken aback by her eyes….they're black. Not a dark brown, but black, black as ebony, and they're pools of liquid. Metaphorically.
"You promise?" she whispers. "Not even him?"
Ladybug feels a chill prickling her spine, but she maintains her gentle demeanor. "No. I promise you won't be hurt."
This girl...Ladybug's heart breaks as she shuffles towards her and Chat, her eyes darting guardedly between them. She'd been so unafraid, so fearless and confident, and the mask had been peeled away…
Ladybug has to physically stop herself from touching her own mask. How would she feel if it were stripped away from her face? The mask is like a second personality, and she would lose her confidence the moment it is removed. She'd be like this girl...a shell.
Exchanging a glance with Chat, Ladybug silently takes the lead while Chat falls behind, retracting his staff but keeping it in one hand. Ladybug is aware of the policemen grumbling but she ignores them, entering the next room. She deliberately halts beneath one of the missing paintings, the place it used to hang. The girl flinches.
"Ladybug," says Chat quickly, "I think it would be better if we...had this conversation somewhere else." He meets her eyes meaningfully, his eyes burning with an unspoken question.
Do they choose comfort over pressure? Standing right below one of the stolen paintings will apply pressure to the girl and perhaps force some answers out of her, born from nerves and anxiety, but at the same time, Ladybug feels bad for her. The girl, even though she's a nimble escape artist, is acting under someone else's orders.
Ladybug decides to cut her some slack. After all, she'd just had a taste of the girl's fears. It had been something that Ladybug is scared of herself. Ladybug guides them to one of the few paintings — one of the less valuable ones — that remains on display and faces the girl, pinning her with a stern look.
"Do you want to tell us anything?" she asks, reminded irresistibly of her mother, and of days of babysitting Manon. The difference is that Manon is an adorable little girl with baby-doll eyes. This girl is a seasoned criminal, looking at time behind bars. Even if she is only a small part of something larger, her involvement alone is enough to warrant such a punishment.
The girl looks up at her and in a quivering voice, says, "I stole the paintings," she confesses, "all of them, but I was told to."
"Told, or forced?" Ladybug presses.
"Does it matter?" she asks bitterly. Ladybug is briefly surprised by the bite in her tone — where had the meek, frightened girl gone? — but maintains her poise.
"Very," she tells the girl calmly. "It could affect what kind of punishment you and your...boss get."
"Fine," is the muttered response. "I was forced to."
"Why?" Ladybug exchanges concerned looks with Chat. Blackmail could be at work and if death was the penalty for failure...well, it's better if they knew.
The girl looks reluctant, but Chat reassures her a bit. "C'mon, you can tell us. We won't judge you, no matter what it is."
Perhaps it is the genuine honesty in his voice, perhaps it's something else, but the tension on the girl's face eases slightly. "Okay," she says quietly, all hostility fading from her tone, "my — my boss, I don't know who he is, but he's very...jaded. Won't reveal his identity to anyone. But he's very ruthless and unforgiving. If you don't do what he orders, he'll pull some strings and do something horrible to you."
Ladybug glances at Chat, alarmed, and her alarm is reflected on her face. "Are you a part of some group or…?" He doesn't finish the sentence but both of them fill in the blanks themselves. Gang. Cult. Hate group.
The girl wets her lips. "Yes," she whispers. "We're a new group. We call ourselves the...the Anti-Hero League."
Sudden nausea swirls in Ladybug's stomach as the world slides out from beneath her feet. Grabbing onto Chat's shoulder to steady herself, she sees the horror and anger on his face. The girl seems to shrink into herself at their obvious reactions and Ladybug pulls herself together, prompting Chat to do the same with an elbow in the side.
They can fall apart together later. Right now, they've got more pressing problems to deal with."
…
"What do we do?" Chat asks. The police had just taken the girl in for questioning, apparently unsatisfied with Ladybug's assurances that she and Chat had already thoroughly interrogated her. Soon, Ladybug anticipates, the police would be contacting them to pose the same question.
It was better to work it out now, rather than fumble in front of them.
"Well," Ladybug murmurs, half to herself, "we can't let everyone know about this, because it'll spread panic and distrust. We have to keep this information contained between us and the police."
"That's true," Chat agrees. "We can't talk about it during battles, too. We know how handy the Ladyblogger is with her video camera."
"And we can't tell much to our kwamis either," Ladybug adds. "I know my kwami can keep her mouth shut, but yours…"
"Plagg can keep his trap closed." Chat defends his kwami with absolute certainty, and Ladybug allows a small smile to emerge. "Sure, he loves camembert, but he wouldn't betray me for it."
"Still, it's a security risk," Ladybug says. "Accidents happen. We don't want them accidentally blabbing if they're captured, or even if someone attempts to bribe them. I say we can keep them on a need-to-know basis."
"I have no problems with that." Sighing, Chat stares into the distance, his eyes unfocused. "Ladybug?"
"Yeah?"
"Will we be able to fix this problem? You saw how scared that girl was, and to think there might be more of them out there...what if we can't solve the mystery in time?"
Ladybug blinks, startled by this more hopeless side of Chat. He's usually the encouraging one, he's the one who bolsters her confidence and optimism, so it's strange to hear him so...down.
"We can't afford to think like that," she says. "We have to remain strong...we're heroes, remember? If nothing else, we're the city's hope. They're putting our faith in us, and we can't let them down."
"But what if we do?" Chat's asking all the questions she'd been harboring herself. "Would they still believe in us? Or would they side with...the Anti-Hero League?"
"Everyone makes mistakes," Ladybug says firmly. But then she hesitates, and Chat interprets her hesitation correctly.
"They don't think we'll make a mistake, because we're perfect to them," he states. "I don't know about you, but I'm not...I've fucked up more than I should have with this whole superhero thing, and I've done things I regret." Their eyes meet, and they're both thinking about those moments. Ladybug feels guilt pool in her stomach.
"I've made mistakes too," she says wryly. "Remember the whole Queen Bee debacle? Chloé still resents me for that, though she would never get akumatized over it again. I could have handled that better if I'd just followed your advice. Perhaps I wouldn't have had to stop giving out Miraculouses. We could have had more people on our side to deal with this…"
"It's okay. I fucked up too. I was all pushy about your feelings for me, I sulked like a child, and you had to scold me for it. And remember New York? I bailed, I gave up my Miraculous, and I ran."
"It's okay," Ladybug echoes. "I'll admit the first one was childish, but the second one in New York, that was justified, even though it broke both of our hearts."
Something dawns on Chat's face and he glances at her, his expression unreadable. "Your heart…?"
The way he says it causes heat to erupt in Ladybug's face and she breaks eye contact with him. "Not-Not in that way!" she squeaks. "I-I was just mildly...upset that you left, because I-I thought that we'd just lost months of friendship. I-I was scared."
"...Oh. I thought...never mind." His green Chat Noir eyes are searching her face unnervingly, unusually soft. "But...you were scared for me?"
"Not for you," she says honestly. "I was scared because I didn't know what I would do without you. One of my greatest fears…"
She can't say it. Not now. Because that would open a can of worms. A whole another world of possibilities, and she doesn't want to give him false hope when she's not entirely sure herself. It wouldn't be fair to either of them.
Thankfully, Chat senses her discomfort and lets the statement hang. But she knows he's still curious. It doesn't matter anyway; if he'd been paying close enough attention, she'd already revealed her greatest fear to him. Not just this once, but many other times, through words and actions.
One of my greatest fears...is losing you, because I don't think I could live with myself. I couldn't live with this Chat-shaped hole in my heart. You mean so much to me, and I'd lose part of my world if something happened to you.
But what she says, in a falsely cheery voice is, "So, about patrol…"
…
They don't drop the subject of the Anti-Hero League. It weighs on Ladybug's mind, amidst other things.
Where could they start?
Dix-sept
They could start by scouting out the general area the girl had mentioned to them. Marinette decides to go as her civilian self because it would attract less attention, and she asks Alya to go with her under the guise of catching up.
It's really because Marinette feels unsafe. Even though she's not in her Ladybug suit, it's unsettling. She hates this feeling of unease, but with Alya, she knows she has someone with her in Chat's absence.
Still, it doesn't stop her from being warier, and she sticks close to Alya.
"...and the Ladyblog has gotten a bump up in views lately," Alya chatters on, oblivious to Marinette's shifty eyes and not as upbeat demeanor, "thanks to more Ladybug and Chat Noir sightings. They're more active these days, I don't know why, but they always look like they're talking about something serious. Maybe they —"
Marinette is suddenly distracted when she spots Adrien and Nino, deep in discussion approaching from the opposite direction.
"I'm telling you, dude, she's — Alya!" Nino cuts himself off and waves frantically at his girlfriend, who immediately ceases her Ladybug speculations and rushes across the small street. Plastering a smile on her face, Marinette jogs after her. There's a lot of er, affection being exchanged between their best friends, so Marinette and Adrien turn to each other with identically awkward expressions on their faces.
"How have you been, Marinette?" Adrien asks, vainly making an attempt to ignore the lovebirds less than a yard away.
"Fine, fine, I've been good," she replies distractedly, trying to remain vigilant, but the display of affection, combined with Adrien's sheer presence, is enough to block out her awareness. Standing this close to Adrien doesn't fry her brain anymore, but it doesn't mean that her nervousness is entirely gone. After all, he's an attractive male, and she's a female with eyes and hormones and a tendency to overthink everything. "How are you?"
"Same as you." Adrien shifts on his feet. "Father has been scheduling more photoshoots now that I've graduated while pushing me to go to one of the more prestigious schools."
Marinette blinks, surprised by this sudden show of resentment, but she supposes that as one of his closest friends, she's privy to his feelings towards his father and a natural confidante. She might idolize his father, but she's not an idiot; she can tell what Adrien thinks of his father — his despondency, his apathy, and recently, the embitterment.
First and foremost, she's his friend. She'd told him as much one rainy afternoon under an umbrella. And before that, she'd vowed to love him unconditionally.
"Do you have any schools that you want to go to?" she asks. When Adrien starts rattling off a list of universities that his father wants him to apply to, she cuts him off. "No, where do you want to go?"
Adrien pauses, his eyes widening slightly as if no one had ever asked him that before. His cheeks are tinted with pink as he bashfully confesses he wants to major in physics and become a teacher, thus abandoning his modeling career — which could hardly be considered a "career" regardless of its benefits because it hadn't been something he'd wanted to do; only because his father had been a fashion mogul did he enter modeling. But the pressure and commitments, Adrien confesses, had become too much for him.
What had meant to be a distracting question turns into them pulling away from Alya and Nino and going their own ways, immersed in a cogent, thoughtful discussion about future endeavors.
Marinette's heart aches for the boy, who'd been trapped in a steel cage his entire life and paraded around like a show dog. Her high opinion of Gabriel Agreste becomes murky and uncertain. Clearly, the public had not been made aware of the Agreste heir's discontent, or Gabriel would have been ousted from his position at the top of the pyramid — after all, his empire is built on the unwillingness of a teenage boy forced into a hot seat.
She could hardly blame Adrien; no one should be sheltered and oppressed like that. Marinette's parents had granted her freedoms that had been out of reach, a mere fantasy for Adrien.
Not for the first time, Marinette is grateful that she isn't blinded by love and begins to understand the true Adrien Agreste.
"Don't tell anyone, okay?" Adrien requests, the setting sun casting shadows on his face. Marinette nods, smiling radiantly at him, and they switch to a lighter topic.
Alya and Nino catch up to them later, huffing and indignant about how they'd been forgotten. "What gives?" Nino asks between pants, and Marinette and Adrien look at each other, mirroring each other's expressions of sly amusement.
Alya glances between them, curious, but Marinette doesn't reveal anything (in fact, a part of her revels in Adrien's trust in her that he'd chosen to confide in her, and nobody else). "We got carried away," she says. "Adrien was telling me about his father's upcoming line."
Alya looks disappointed. Clearly, she'd been anticipating something...juicier, but Marinette isn't going to give her the satisfaction. Alya already knows too much about Marinette's personal and love lives.
Besides, there is nothing to tell, and Marinette has much heavier burdens to think about.
Dix-huit
Marinette is frustrated by how indomitable Hawkmoth is, and adding the Anti-Hero League to the list is enough to drive anyone crazy. Somehow, the infallible Ladybug remains, well, infallible.
Marinette, however, is a different story.
Marinette spends her waking hours in a state of deep thought, only rousing when someone prods her a few times. Lunch is occupied by idle chatter between her three friends, with occasional interruptions from Chloé. You would think that the brat would have left them alone after lycée, but the girl has some sort of radar on Adrien. Marinette doesn't care anymore — she'd grown up, passed the stage of petty grudges.
Chloé, however, hasn't.
"Marinette Dupain-Cheng." A manicured hand slams down on the table, and Marinette gives herself a moment to prepare for whatever Chloé has on her mind. Chloé had been in a foul mood ever since Ladybug had declared her intentions to never return the Miraculous to their previous holders. Ever since any unsuspecting human caught in the former Queen Bee's path received an evisceration that would tan a bull.
"Yes, Chloé?"
Chloe purses her glossy lips, her cerulean eyes sharp as a blade — that, and her nails look like they could slit someone's throat — and she doesn't look as...peeved as Marinette thinks she should be. Given their past enmity, Chloe should look furious.
"Listen here, Dupain-Cheng," she says, "I need you to do something for me."
…
...
"I still don't understand," says Marinette five minutes later, after Chloe had dragged her into an empty classroom. "Why do you think I have any connection to them? Don't you think Alya would stand a better chance of getting in touch with them?"
"Just trust me," Chloe hisses between gritted teeth. "You have a better rep with them than Cesaire. And Ladybug doesn't trust me anymore after that fiasco."
"And she's right," Marinette says pointedly. "But I've never spoken to Ladybug and I've spoken to Chat Noir, like, twice in my life."
"That's the point," says Chloe, leaning back against the window and crossing her arms, her pink-glossed lips pinched sourly. "Cesaire lost her credibility when she posted that ridiculous garbage drivel about Lila — yes, I know it's all a lie — and I heard that Ladybug hates her."
"How do you know?"
"Does it matter?" is the clipped response, but Marinette waits a moment because she knows Chloe can't resist giving in to her instincts. A moment later, she's proven right. "...I heard her talking on the roof of my daddy's hotel, above my room."
Marinette winces internally, maintaining a straight face. In hindsight, ranting to Chat Noir on the roof of such a famous building had been a stupid decision, not to mention it had violated their secrecy pact. They'd promised to keep their mouths shut about anything that could cause them trouble. Marinette didn't know what had driven her to it — perhaps frustration and a desperate desire to complain to someone who would understand.
Hate is such a strong word. Marinette doesn't hate many people — just three: Hawkmoth, Mayura, and Lila Rossi — but she doesn't hate Alya. Sure, she'd thought of hating her during those moments when Alya had repeatedly taken Lila's side over her best friend of years, but Marinette simply didn't care enough to put up with that brat's lies anymore. She hated lies with a burning passion, and she always would, but after years of experience, she'd learned that while Lila Rossi was clever preying on the trusting, the outside world would tear her down. They had access to everything, all the facts, and Lila would be exposed for the fraud she is.
Marinette had chosen to remain silent — if her classmates wanted to believe Lila over the classmate they'd known for years, then they clearly weren't the people she'd grown up with. Marinette felt guilty, she was being vindictive — she didn't know how far Lila intended to reach with her lies, but as long as they were relatively harmless — well, Marinette was fine with stepping away for a little while. She had bigger fish to fry, anyway.
"I don't think Ladybug meant that," Marinette says slowly. "And besides, even if you hear them, you're not supposed to eavesdrop, let alone tell anyone."
"Oh please, like I'd pass up the chance to lord something over you," scoffs Chloe. "Ladybug and Chat Noir hang out on my roof."
Marinette bites back a scathing remark and makes a mental note to never meet Chat Noir on the roof of that hotel ever again, especially when Chloe was there. "So what's your point, Chloe, what do you want me to do? I can't ask them to give them your Miraculous back, you saw what they said in that press conference. If they don't listen to you, what makes you think —"
"Listen, Dupain-Cheng," Chloe interjects and Marinette struggles to control her rising irritation. "I know something about that robbery in the Louvre, but you gotta help arrange a meeting with them."
"...What?"
Dix-neuf
"...and I don't know, Ladybug," says Chat Noir, sounding as uncertain as Ladybug feels. "What's the guarantee that she really does have brand new information?"
"Yeah, that's what's been bugging me," Ladybug says, ignoring Chat's brief grin at the pun. "We've been investigating this for weeks, and suddenly, out of nowhere, she's finally bringing this to our attention? It's pretty suspicious if you ask me."
"I'm surprised she hasn't asked for her Miraculous back yet," Chat comments. "She's been pretty persistent about it in the past, but she's been quiet as of late." Ladybug sits up as something occurs to her.
"Chat, what if that's her motive? Exchanging information for the Bee Miraculous?"
Chat's eyes narrow. When he'd brought Chloe's proposal from Marinette, he'd been confused and unsure — but now, there's no doubt on his face. "...I think you're right."
"It all makes sense," she says, heart pounding. "Did she not hear what I said the other day? Does she think I'd trust her with a Miraculous after what she pulled?"
"I'm assuming she thinks that she can resist akumas," Chat says with a snort. "Like we can. And she's banking on her information to bail her out if we start accusing her of something."
A memory of Chat Blanc surfaces and Ladybug pushes it back down. "Right," she says. "But there's a chance that she does know something — her father is the mayor after all. But the mayor's been sending direct reports to us, so how would she know something that her father doesn't?"
"That's a good point," Chat agreed. He hesitated. "But there's still a chance she witnessed something or saw some suspicious behavior. We need all the information we can get, so I think we should go."
"...I think so too," she admitted. "And we won't take the Miraculous with us — we'll tell her it's out of commission or something if she asks. We don't want her using it again."
"Isn't that lying?"
"Sort of," Ladybug admitted. "But it's technically the truth, and it's for the greater good."
Vingt
Chloe is waiting for them when they arrive on the rooftop. "I got all of the cameras disabled, just as you asked," she says, "and I've made sure that no one will come up here while we're talking — at least for the next thirty minutes."
"What did you do?" Chat asks curiously.
Chloe jerks her thumb towards the door. "It was easy. I threw a fit and no one dared to follow me up here."
Ah, that makes sense.
"Okay, so we have thirty minutes," Ladybug says, taking control of the conversation. "What do you need to tell us, Chloe?"
Chloe's eyes are like chips of ice. Walking over to the two heroes, she gives them a judgmental once-over and leans in to whisper something that makes Ladybug freeze.
"I know who's behind these robberies."
11,029 words
Written for Assignment 7 - Mythology - Task 4 - Write about someone being forced or blackmailed into doing something.
Pinata - Hard: Friendship