Chapter 2

There was something refreshing about coming into work and being handed dozens of unfinished projects without so much as a 'how are you?'. Some people might have resented the unfriendly atmosphere of Marinette's workplace, but Marinette thrived in it. As much as she could thrive at a time like this, anyway.

She knew that there were probably workers from Paris in the office with her who knew her secret, but the American CEOs either didn't know about her previous role as a Parisian superhero, or they didn't care. She found she didn't mind either way, as long as it kept them from commenting on how sorry they felt for her. She pushed open the door to her workspace with her foot and entered the area she was assigned to work in. It wasn't more than a glorified closet, but Audrey had specifically requested she get her own space to work and this was the best the company had to offer. Marinette knew she would have to meet with her team later that day, so she just had to get through the next couple of hours alone with her thoughts.

The designs she was given weren't difficult to assemble, but Marinette gave them more focus that she probably needed to. Every stitch that could possibly be considered imperfect was meticulously unstitched and redone to perfection. Even if the company as a whole didn't ever reach fame, Marinette's designs would be flawlessly put together. After hours of sewing, Marinette's phone dinged, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Glancing over, she realized it was just a text from Alya, once again inviting her to lunch. Marinette straightened to respond to her friend and winced at her stiff shoulders and neck. She had been hunched over in the same position for hours on end, and the movement wasn't pleasant.

Right as she was about to turn her well meaning friend down for lunch, a knock rapped at her door. Marinette got to her feet quickly since no one usually bothered her in her office. Whoever was on the other side of the door must have needed something urgent. She straightened her hair and clothes and opened the door as calmly as she could. She hadn't been expecting the person on the other end to be her bespectacled friend who Marinette had still failed to respond to. Alya looked Marinette over as she opened the door, and her face fell.

"Girl," she sighed. "We need to talk."

ooo

Alya had recruited Nino too. Marinette supposed she couldn't blame either of her friends for being worried, but as she sat jammed between the two of them in a booth at a restaurant just outside of Paris, she couldn't help but feel a bit trapped.

"I have a lot of work to do," Marinette tried to say as Alya ordered dessert for the three of them. Alya had drawn out the lunch as long as she possibly could, assuring Marinette that her boss wouldn't mind if she was missing for a few hours.

"I already talked to her," Alya said for the tenth time. "She gave you the rest of the day off, if you need it."

"I don't get days off," Marinette pointed out. "Not until fashion week, which is still—"

"You got the day off today," Alya cut in. "All it took was a little advertisement in my newest article."

"Alya," Marinette chastised. "You told me that your publishing company wouldn't do fashion advertisements."

"They didn't," Alya admitted sheepishly. "Until I told them you were the one working there. They made an exception. Besides, it's not anything big—just a brief mention in an article, really. That's why you only got a day off."

Marinette might have complained further, but the waitress put down the desserts and Alya immediately shoved one in front of Marinette.

"Eat up," she directed.

Marinette sighed and took a bite of the cake, but it was dry and crumbly. Alya took a bite of hers as well, and it was clear from the girl's expression that she wasn't impressed with the dessert either.

"Nothing like your parents'," Alya laughed, putting another bite in her mouth. "But I'll eat anything with sugar in it."

At the mention of her parents, Marinette felt a twist of guilt. She hadn't visited in a while, but she knew they were trying to give her her space. She had spent weeks crying on her couch while her mother fussed over her, and she couldn't do it to them anymore. It pained them to see her so distraught, so she had moved somewhere else where they couldn't see it.

"Marinette," Nino said softly. "What are you thinking about?"

Marinette glanced over at her friend, knowing he could see right into her mind. He had been friends with her the longest of any in their group, and sometimes she forgot how well he knew her. Shifting in her seat, she picked at the cake in front of her.

"What do you think?" she muttered. "What else am I ever thinking about?"

She didn't mean for it to come out as snappish as it did, but one look at Nino's face told her that she had hurt him with the response. She put her fork down with a sigh and leaned back in the booth.

"I'm sorry," she managed. "I just can't stop thinking about it."

"It's all Paris has been thinking for weeks," Alya said, rubbing a hand over Marinette's back. "It's all right. We understand."

Marinette nodded, swallowing the words she wanted to spit out. They couldn't understand what she was feeling. They hadn't spent years fighting Hawkmoth with Chat Noir, nor did they spend years riding a roller coaster of affection for Adrien. Perhaps it was selfish of her to say so, but she felt his loss more than anyone in Paris. She had lost more than just a supermodel or a classmate. She had lost her best friend, her partner, her crush, and the most trustworthy person she had ever known. That was a loss that was beyond comprehension.

"If you need anything, all you have to do is reach out," Nino added, finally starting on his cake Alya had ordered for him. "We're here for you."

Marinette nodded again, not trusting her voice. Alya and Nino met eyes over her and Marinette wondered what kind of silent messages they were sending each other. She could probably try to figure it out if she cared enough to, but she was content to stare at the cake in front of her while trying to block out the rest of the world.

"You don't wear the earrings anymore."

The comment came out hesitantly as if Alya was afraid of Marinette's reaction to it. Marinette stiffened in her seat, immediately feeling defensive.

"There's no more Hawkmoth," she pointed out. "So I don't need to wear them."

"I guess that's true," Nino piped up, shooting Alya a concerned look. "But what about the other stuff you used to do as Ladybug?"

"We have a police force for a reason," Marinette grumbled, grabbing her fork so she could shove some more cake into her mouth. It seemed that her friends were intent on interrogating her about the miraculous, and she wasn't interested in having that conversation. If her mouth was full of cake, she wouldn't have to answer their questions, and if the cake was gone, she'd have an excuse to leave.

"Aren't you the guardian?"

For whatever reason, that question irked Marinette worse than the others. She stood up, giving up on cake and conversations all together and grabbed her purse. "I've got to go."

"Marinette—" Alya tried.

"Thanks for lunch. I'll pay you back for it."

"There's no need," a waitress said running over. "I didn't realize who you were at first. No need for Paris's superhero to pay."

Marinette groaned as a few of the other restaurant customers turned to look at her, chattering quietly. She shuffled past Nino so she could be free from the booth and marched toward the door. A couple people gasped as she passed, but she didn't stop.

"Have a great day," the host called sheepishly as Marinette tore the door open.

"I won't," she muttered to no one in particular before letting the door slam behind her.

ooo

After wandering for an hour, Marinette decided to make the best of her day off. Alya had gotten it for her and after ruining their lunch together, Marinette decided the least that she could do was take advantage of the time her friend had literally bought her.

The line outside of the bakery was longer than she had been expecting and Marinette considered turning the corner and pretending she had never been there. However, someone must have recognized her from across the street because suddenly the crowd was parting to let her in. She knew her face was probably as red as her Ladybug mask used to be as she sheepishly made her way inside.

"Marinette!" her father called, his voice as cheerful as ever.

"Hello, Papa," she said tiredly. Sometimes it took coming home to realize how exhausted she really was. "Can I head up to the apartment?"

"Of course," her father said, wiping flour off on his apron. "Your mother and I are busy in the bakery for at least another hour, but then we'll come up. Do you need us to make you anything?"

"No, I just came back from lunch with Alya and Nino."

"Oh, how sweet," Marinette's mother called from the register. "How was it?"

Marinette considered telling them the truth-that it had brought up painful topics she didn't want to talk about so she had left—but she couldn't bring herself to when her mom was looking so hopeful.

"It was great," she lied, forcing a shaky smile. "But I'm a little run down from it all…"

"Your room is all made up if you want to rest there," Sabine said, dishing out a couple croissants for the customers in front of her. "We'll be up later."

"Thanks," Marinette said as she made her way to the back door of the bakery so she could go up to the apartment. She could feel her parents' worried gazes following her, but she ignored them as she had learned to do over the last several weeks.

Running up the stairs, Marinette reached her living room relatively quickly. She hesitated at the base of the steps that led to her room knowing that there might be things in her room she preferred not to see at the moment. However, the call of a comfortable and familiar bed was too loud to ignore, so she made her way up the stairs anyway.

Pushing open the trap door, she was surprised to see how clean her room really was. Not just decluttered, but bare. Her pictures were gone from the walls as was the trunk that used to sit in the corner of her room. She knew her mother had come through and cleaned it out for her, and she felt herself tear up again. She wasn't sure whether she was upset or grateful that her walls no longer had the remains of Adrien's fashion pictures or that her trunk full of old presents she had made back as a fourteen-year-old were missing.

Creeping farther into the room, Marinette quickly decided that the best course of action right now would be to climb into bed and go straight to sleep before she could think too hard about how unfamiliar her room felt now. She kicked off her shoes and climbed the ladder to her bed, noting that having a bed so far off the ground had been cooler when she was fourteen. Despite this, it felt good to curl up on the familiar pink comforter and fall asleep to the same sounds she had heard outside her room all growing up. It made everything seem like maybe it would go back to normal one day.