Library

While attending a conference in Paris, a small-town librarian finds herself in the middle of a situation that by rights should only exist in one of her kid's favorite books.

Author's Note: This is the first of five prompt requests celebrating my first one-hundred followers on my tumblr blog, epcot97; my good friend, CaptainMalcolmReynolds, was first out of the gate, asking for Lukanette with a special twist. To that end, the usual disclaimer needs a slight updating: while I do not own the rights to any of the fabulous characters in Miraculous Ladybug, I do own the rights to the character of Charlie O'Conner, who appears in my Sean Colbeth Investigates original fiction series. I have graciously granted myself leave to allow her to appear in this story.

Charlie O'Connor still couldn't believe the amazing number of coincidences that landed her at the Eighteenth Annual World Literacy Congress in Paris that summer.

As the head of a public library in a (relatively) small town from a quiet coastal backwater of Maine, she'd long ago given up any hope of having the budget to attend such exotic destinations as New York or Boston, let alone anything international. So it had just been plain dumb luck that the year she held the chair of the regional working group tackling children's literacy, that would be the same year their paper on strategies in assisting young readers with dyslexia managed to get published in the right journal to attract the notice of the organizers for the World Literacy Congress. Charlie could still remember the shock of taking the call from the session planner in her cramped office, stuffed floor-to-ceiling with books she had read or had planned to read, unable to say anything other than one word when the offer for an all-expenses-paid ten-day excursion to the City of Lights had been tendered.

Me? she had asked.

Yes, had been the immediate reply, heavily accented French though it was. And would you mind very much being our featured keynote speaker on the second day?

Before she knew what'd she'd committed to, dates were reserved, and tickets arrived via overnight delivery. All that remained had been the rather laborious task of transforming a year-long research project into a handful of PowerPoint slides just interesting enough to keep the audience engaged, but not overwhelming enough to have them heading for the exits within the first ten minutes of the talk. As a single parent with twin daughters under the age of ten, finding the time to work on her presentation had been difficult if not impossible; she'd wound up slaving away on her laptop during her flight out of Logan International, putting the final touches on the enterprise nearly as the wheels of the jumbo jet touched down at de Gaulle.

The Conference had made all of the arrangements for her, including an amazing boutique hotel on a street corner between a small bakery and what appeared to be some sort of middle school. Her friendly driver that had essentially been a de facto tour guide on the ride out from the airport had been the one to point out the bakery to her, explaining in nearly flawless English that while the croissants were second to none, the macarons were nearly an institution in Paris, a specialty of the owner and not to be missed if she could help it. She'd smiled and filed it away, unsure of how a cookie could be so popular.

By her fourth day in Paris, with a successful speech behind her, Charlie decided it was time to play tourist. It had helped that the topics on tap for that part of the Congress were, to put it mildly, extremely dull – and that was saying something, for by nature, librarians tended to find everything about the world they lived in fascinating and therefore worth taking note of. After all, it wasn't for nothing the Dewey Decimal System was so granular. Still, there was only so much one could take of fourteenth-century literary taxonomy, so she slid into her favorite pair of sneakers, grabbed a wide brimmed hat and headed out with her camera, intent on making the most of the brilliantly sunny day.

On a lark, she'd paused at the corner to take a photo of the bakery, for the way that the confections had been arranged so artfully in the plate glass windows had caught her eye. Despite having feasted well on the buffet at her hotel, the goodies had called out to her. Rolling her eyes at herself, she crossed during a break in the furious traffic of the city and entered the small shop, the bell jingling merrily as she entered. The fragrant smells of the savory and the sweet commingled so elegantly, she unexpectedly paused just inside the door, a look of wonder on her face as if she were the age of her daughters. Charlie so completely lost track of herself that a young, extremely attractive (and vaguely familiar) teenager had to gently clear his throat to catch her attention; snapping back to the here-and-now, she sheepishly stepped out of the way to allow the blond-haired student to exit, his arms carrying two extremely full boxes of baked goods. It took her a full minute to realize why she had recognized the young man, for his likeness seemed to be on just about every billboard in Paris.

A small queue had formed at the counter, where a very petite Asian woman merrily waited on each customer, doting on them as if they were a member of her own family. As Charlie picked out a few items, she caught sight of a massively burly man with a handlebar mustache from time to time; his flour-stained apron easily identified him as the other half of the ownership. She smiled a bit when she caught a glance or two pass between the woman at the counter and the baker, for it was a look she had once shared with her own husband, one that spoke the unspoken, easily and quickly.

She thought often of her partner. It was hard not to, given how long they had been together before cancer had quietly stolen him away from her and the girls. Smiling wider, she nodded slowly at how very evident the two people in front of her were connected by love.

The bell rang out behind her again, and she turned, catching the entrance of a young woman with raven-dark hair, followed closely by a taller, and slightly older, teen who appeared to like the tips of his hair dyed an interesting shade of blue. Despite having spent a fortune on an online crash course in French, the two teens were talking so rapidly that Charlie could only pick out every third word, but it didn't truly matter. For the teens had nearly the exact same look as the adults she'd been observing just a moment earlier; arching an eyebrow, she wondered a bit at the fleeting nature of young love only to remind herself that she'd met her future husband in high school. They'd been inseparable, married the moment they'd both graduated from college. Her mother had told her when she was nearly the age of her twins that true love existed, if you were brave enough to open yourself up to it.

It was clear in a heartbeat that these two fit the definition.

Charlie realized she'd been staring at the couple when their conversation trailed off; the young man's eyes caught hers, and she could see a gentle smile in them, reflecting the actual one at the edge of his lips. For the second time in as few as ten minutes, she smiled somewhat sheepishly and returned to considering the geometrically arranged tower of baguettes just to the side of a selection of cookies. Something about the couple, though, had her watching their reflection in the window as they made their way toward the counter, and then to her surprise, stepped through it together, the young woman taking blue-tips by the hand as they disappeared through a door at the rear. Turning, it was clear that one of the two - she was guessing the girl – was a part of the bakery family, for neither of the proprietors made any move to stop them.

Curious if she'd see them emerge again, Charlie intentionally dragged out her review of a selection of cheeses, and was rewarded when the girl reappeared, backpack on her shoulders and four large boxes precariously piled one on top of the other. Blue-tips was right behind her, carrying four more boxes, albeit in a more elegant way. She couldn't help shifting into mother mode at that point; four quick strides and she was at the side of the girl, gently removing two of the boxes and informing her help had arrived.

That smile returned to the boy's face while the young woman stammered a thank you; it was clear he had perhaps unsuccessfully tried to talk her out of the balancing act and was appreciative of the intervention. Leaving her purchases with the woman behind the counter, Charlie followed the teens back out of the bakery, discovering (through her fractured French) the young woman was named Marinette, her companion was Luka and there appeared to be some sort of bake sale going on at their school. As they crossed the street and passed her hotel, she learned that it was a fundraiser for the local pet shelter, part of a summer-long volunteer program Marinette was apparently spearheading.

Charlie lost the thread of the conversation at that point, for they had reached the steps of the school, requiring a bit of focus to navigate without herself upending the surprisingly heavy boxes. Quite a crowd was flowing up toward the massive double doors, doors that led into a wide-open courtyard at the center of the building. Typical folding tables found at any school had been arranged around the perimeter, and most seemed to have people four and five deep waiting to purchase something. As they went down a small set of stairs to the courtyard, Marinette was greeted by a striking young woman with a mountain of brown hair, who took one of the two boxes and hurried to a far corner.

It was clear to Charlie that Marinette was quite invested in the success of the bake sale, so much so that waves of stress were radiating from the young woman's petite body. Just as remarkable was how much of a calm, reassuring presence Luka appeared to be; one gentle hand to the shoulder, a soft-spoken word or two accompanied by that boyish smile seemed to quickly steady Marinette for whatever next crisis was on the horizon.

Somehow, Charlie found herself caught up in the atmosphere; her plans for visiting the Musee D'orsay were quickly forgotten as she pitched in, carried away by the enthusiasm of the middle schoolers who seemed quite earnest in their desire to do good. She was no stranger to the bake sale, of course, seeing as how her library tended to host its fair share for one group or another; still, as she pressed her new young friend Luka for details, she was surprised to discover just how much of a batch of overachievers this particular lot seemed to be.

As it turned out, Luka wasn't actually a student at that particular school, but his sister was, which explained why he was there – though, with some gentle prodding from Charlie, he did admit that it was only a partial excuse. That boyish smile returned as he confirmed that he was, indeed, dating Marinette, though it was fairly new for both of them. They way his eyes sought out the dark-haired young girl as she flitted about the room told Charlie more about the relationship than anything the teen could possibly say, and she found herself suddenly wistful for her younger days with her own beau.

Once he realized Charlie was barely treading water in French, Luka deftly switched to nearly flawless English, apologizing with a smile for not doing so sooner. He asked her why she was in Paris, and was suitably impressed that she'd made a career out of reading. Luka was an avid consumer of books himself, for the imagery he'd found within them had helped to shape his songwriting process. Intrigued, Charlie discovered that the teen was a multi-talented musician; Luka blushed slightly at the admission he could play nearly anything, but favored the guitar at the moment. He blushed darker when Charlie openly wondered if there were an ulterior motive to his choice, emphasizing her innuendo with a meaningful glance at Marinette.

And that was about as much socializing as she managed to do, for one after another, wireless phones in the room started to squawk something close to the National Weather Service storm alert she was all too familiar with. From the expressions on the faces of the kids and adults around her, though, Charlie got the sense that it might be something far more serious; certainly, the suddenly tight expression Luka sported did nothing to alleviate her anxiety that the world might be ending. Like any good tourist, Charlie had read up on the wave of strange terror attacks that had been rocking Paris for more than a year now, made all the more unusual by a cadre of masked heroes attempting to protect the city - heroes that seemed to have leapt from the pages of one of the graphic novels she recommended to her younger readers. To be honest, it wasn't until the wall behind her crumbled into a large pile of rubble that she realized it wasn't just hyperbole from the local press.

Throwing her hands up against the dust raining down upon them, she barely had a chance to process what was going on around her when Luka, moving far faster than she would have expected, tackled her and dove beneath a row of tables, rolling slightly to take the brunt of the landing and preventing her from becoming a pancake beneath a sizable chunk of concrete. Coughing and eyes watering with the grit of destruction, she felt herself being gently but firmly tugged; scrabbling over the tiles, she followed Luka over to a corner of the courtyard where a gaggle of people were huddled and tried not to look over her shoulder at whatever it was that had come through the recently created hole.

As with the bake sale, Marinette appeared to be managing the emergency, too; her voice, loud but firm, had the effect of instilling some calm into the crowd as she shepherded them toward an emergency exit Charlie hadn't seen earlier; blinking, she realized that both the blond teen from the bakery and Luka had appeared by Marinette's side, forming something of a team in the effort to get everyone to safety. She was toward the back of the group and caught a whispered conversation between Luka and Marinette; her French wasn't good enough to get more than the broad context that he was encouraging her to do what she did best. It was an unusual sentiment under the circumstances, underscored when the young teen turned and disappeared back into the swirling dust, presumably to ensure they had cleared out the last of anyone in danger from whatever it was that appeared to be howling with great menace deep within the heart of the school.

She had to have been staring once again, for Luka appeared beside her and gently tugged her through the emergency exit. Charlie had a thousand questions for the teen, none of which he answered as he guided her through a side alley that broadened out at the street running in front of the school – except for telling her that they were no longer in danger. That was when she was certain she'd heard him wrong, for it had sounded like he'd said a bug was there to save them. French was such a strange language – maybe it was a colloquialism she'd not had time to learn, but pressing the teen for an explanation proved impossible, for as she joined the crowd on the sidewalk opposite the school, she realized Luka had quietly slipped away from her.

Only then did Charlie fully appreciate how badly damaged the school was; the elegant façade that she'd barely paid attention to less than an hour earlier was in pieces along the street, with one entire wing simply reduced to rubble. She thanked high heaven that school had been out for the summer-

A slash of red against the deep blue of the sky caught her attention, and looking, Charlie felt her jaw drop all the way to the ground. For there, sailing through the bright morning was a petite figure in pigtails and a red-and-black polka-dotted costume. She watched in utter amazement as something that belonged in a comic book deftly landed atop what was left of the school and turned toward the crowd assembled below; in an eerily similar tone to the one Marinette had used earlier, the young woman urged the people to seek safety away from the school before turning and swiftly leaping into the cloud of dust behind her.

Of course, there was no way Charlie was going to do that.

More for form's sake than any other, she moved to stand behind the relative safety of the entrance for the Metro station, then peered around the ornate side in time to see a tall, striking figure in green dashing toward the school; eyes wide, Charlie realized this, too, was one of the masked Heroes of Paris she had read about. After also urging the assembled to stand back, he leapt into the rubble and disappeared; she watched in horrified fascination as what little was left standing of the school crumbled in a wave of choking dust just a moment later.

Sounds not unlike those epic battles from some fantastical movie reverberated around the small quad, and at one point the ground beneath her literally shook and then cleaved open, forcing her to dash away from the Metro station before the entrance collapsed into the yawning abyss. Following the crowd, she huddled in front of her hotel, glancing briefly at the bakery where the adventure had begun not long ago. To her surprise, the baker and his wife were standing just under the awning, beckoning any and all to hide in the relative safety of their basement. A number of the gaggle did just that, but Charlie stood her ground, and returned her attention to the school.

Something big, clad in garish colors only a schoolchild could truly appreciate had stepped into the street; howling, it swatted at and took out a streetlamp, sending it sailing into the floor just above Charlie. She managed to get beneath the awning in order to avoid the worst of the glass and bricks raining down, and turned in time to see the polka-dot wearing heroine drop to the street in front of whatever it was, frantically waving something odd that she was clutching in her hands. Blinking, Charlie was reasonably sure it was some sort of massive book, though it, too, had a strange polka-dot pattern on it.

Only then did it dawn on Charlie that the howling from the massive figure had actually been something other than a simple expression of anger; no, she was reasonably certain – despite her French being lacking – it was repeating the word for story over and over again. Blinking, Charlie allowed her brain to process what she was seeing fully: despite its several story size - and clear destructive power – the creature looked to her eye like nothing more than an overtired toddler. One that seemed to have missed out on storytime.

Glancing to the costumed figure waving the book, Charlie realized the heroine didn't know what to do with the tome. That became clearer when the green-clad hero she'd seen earlier dropped in beside her, followed by – she had to look twice to be sure – another figure in unrelieved black, sporting what for all the world looked like cat ears and a tail. The three were huddling, glancing at times furtively at the giant toddler currently teething on a small sedan.

Shaking her head, and swallowing her fear, Charlie dashed from her hiding spot and toward the gaggle of heroes. The one in green turned first and leapt toward her, landing such that she had to skid to a halt.

"Madame," he said, holding up a gloved hand. The voice seemed strikingly familiar. "It's not safe-"

"Is that a lyre?" Charlie asked, pointing to the small instrument on his back.

Nonplussed, the hero nodded.

"The kid needs a bedtime story," Charlie said simply. "Read the book, and play your lyre."

Eyes surrounded by a vibrantly colored masked considered her, then crinkled slightly with the smile that appeared below them. "Clever," he said softly before holding out his gloved hand.

"Wait – what?" Charlie said, her turn to be nonplussed.

"You're a librarian, right?" he said as he tugged her toward the other two heroes. "I can't think of anyone better for the task."

"I'm not a children's librarian," Charlie objected, feeling the first wave of panic. "I don't think—"

"Ladybug," the hero in green said to the girl in red-and-black. "I have an idea."

Somewhat dazed, Charlie hovered just outside the trio as they huddled again so the hero in green – she discovered his name was Viperion, as befitting the snake scales she'd spied on his costume – could sketch in what he was thinking. This close to the female heroine, Charlie could now see her costume did indeed evoke the tiny bug; more interestingly, she discovered the teen in black actually had feline eyes, completing the whole cat ensemble eerily well. Those feline ears twitched a moment before he looked over at her; smiling, he detached himself from the trio and moved to Charlie.

Holding her hand in his gloved one, he briefly bowed to Charlie. "A pawlesure to make your acquaintance, Madame," he said formally in perfect English before lightly pressing his lips to the back of her hand. "Paris thanks you for your assistance. Know that we won't let any harm come to you."

Despite how her stomach was roiling, somewhat amazingly the feline-themed hero had put her at ease – at least, as at ease as she could be, given the insanity of the situation. It was hard to believe she was right in the middle of the action.

"Chat!" Ladybug called out. "Ready?"

"One second, Milady," he called back over his shoulder before focusing those brilliant green eyes on Charlie. "Viperion is going to give you a little boost and then hang close. You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

Charlie shook her head.

"Good," he smiled. "You'll do fine."

One backflip and she was alone again, watching in fascination as Ladybug and Chat leapt away in separate directions; Viperion moved to her side, holding the book in one hand. Before she could have second thoughts, she felt him wrap an arm around her waist and vault into the air; screaming didn't seem appropriate, so Charlie simply squeezed her eyes shut and made a promise to herself to never, ever publish another paper again. The wind whistling around her ceased suddenly; opening her eyes, she found herself standing on a rooftop nearly at eye level with the toddler – who, it seemed, had been carefully watching them and was now focused on the middle-aged librarian. Swallowing slightly, Charlie took the book from the snake-themed hero and summoned the persona she often used when the kindergarten set began to get rowdy during story hour.

Opening the polka-dotted book, she was at first surprised to see that the pages were blank; as she started to turn to Viperion for guidance, red-and-white sparkles cascaded down the page, allowing words to suddenly form. Smiling slightly, she discovered the clever book had deigned to provide her with one of her kid's favorites: Madeline.

Slowly, and with dramatic flair, Charlie began to read; by the second page, Viperion had joined her with gentle strumming from his lyre, a subtle underscore that reflected the emotions of the words she spoke. Glancing every few sentences at the toddler, she could see she had its rapt attention, though the further she went, the heaver its eyes appeared to be. Halfway through, she could see Ladybug peeking over the parapet of the building across the way, seeming to gauge something; glancing slightly to the side, Charlie thought she'd caught a glimpse of those feline ears, but maybe she'd just imagined that.

Just as she started the final third of the book, a flash of read caught her attention. Looking up from the text, she tried to keep reading while she watched the rather amazing gymnastics from Ladybug. Soaring across the avenue, the heroine managed to snag something from the hand of the toddler before swinging up to land next to Viperion. Without missing a single note, Viperion brought his lyre down atop what looked like a small action figure, smashing it into two parts and, amazingly, releasing what to Charlie's eye looked very much like a butterfly, albeit one directly from Wonderland.

Ladybug did something with what for all the world appeared to be a simple yo-yo, snagging the butterfly before it got too far away; a moment later, she popped the side of the device open to release a brilliantly white version of the critter. As it flitted away, the duo walked toward her, with Ladybug reaching for the book.

"If I may?" she asked politely.

"Sure…?" Charlie replied, handing it over.

Smiling slightly, Ladybug stepped back a bit before tossing the book up into the sky, calling out after it: "Miraculous Ladybug!"

Something close to Fourth of July fireworks exploded in the air above them, but then did something strange – Charlie watched in amazement as the energy flowed out and over Paris, clearly targeting anything that had been damaged by the toddler. One blink and the high school in the distance looked as good as new; another blink, and Chat was standing there beside her, holding a small toddler who was fast asleep in his arms. By the time the light had faded, Viperion had returned her to the foot of the steps leading up to the school, thanked her for her help, and turned to go.

Impulsively, Charlie reached for his arm, arresting his departure. "How did you know I was a librarian?" she asked, wondering if she'd be able to confirm what she knew would be the answer.

Viperion turned, and the flush against his exposed cheeks was so distinctive, she immediately felt terrible for saying anything. "Madame—" he started, eyes wide.

Fumbling at the catch to the purse she'd somehow managed to keep slung about her shoulder the entire time, she pulled out the credentials for the conference and hung the lanyard over her neck. "Oh, of course," she said, "silly me."

The green-cladded hero considered her for a long moment before the slight smile she'd seen that first time in the bakery appeared. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in our city," he said in English.

"Thank you," she smiled a bit wider. "Hopefully I'll be able to get in some of the sights."

Viperion looked at her again, and the smile grew. "With the right guide," he replied enigmatically, "you might."

And with that, he was gone, leaving her to wonder what exactly he had meant.

Unsure of how to salvage the rest of her day, Charlie returned to the bakery and retrieved her goodies, then paused on the sidewalk in front of the ornate signage to consider her options. To her surprise, Luka and Marinette were at that very moment crossing the street.

"Madame!" Luka called out in English. "There you are! We were worried when you didn't turn up at the school. Are you okay?"

Charlie was impressed at the sincerity, then realized it was likely a necessary evil in order to protect his secret identity. "Yes, I am fine," she replied. "I just wanted to pick up my order from the bakery before deciding what to do next." Charlie frowned. "It's been a rather extraordinary morning."

"Hasn't it?" Marinette replied, also in English. "Is this your first time in Paris?"

"Yes," Charlie answered.

"You know," Marinette started, glancing at Luka, "we're pretty much done at the bake sale. Why don't we show you some of our favorite spots – the ones the tourist guides leave out?"

Charlie started to object, but that same half smile she'd seen earlier appeared on Luka's face, along with a nod so subtle, she wasn't sure Marinette had caught it. Startled into understanding, she nodded. "I would enjoy that very much – that's very kind of you."

"Great!" Marinette smiled. "Let me tell my parents and then we'll be off."

Holding up her bags, Charlie smiled. "Good. And lunch is on me."