A/N: A while ago, we were given the okay to post our stories from the Writer's Zine I participated in. I am finally getting around to sharing that. :) An end of the year parting gift, if you will ;)

"Chat, I promise that once we return all the miraculous back to the box, I will reveal myself to you."

Adrien remembered that conversation like it was yesterday.

However, he also had another haunting memory that was just as vivid.

"Let's see who you are, Hawk Moth. And make you pay for all the crimes you've committed against France."

When he had ripped the butterfly miraculous from Hawk Moth's shirt front, the last person Adrien had expected it to be …

Was his father.

It had shaken him so badly that the promise Ladybug had made him that warm summer night on the Eiffel Tower two years ago had practically vanished from his mind.

Adrien had once heard that cats, when very sick, usually find a secluded place for them to hide away with the intent of it being their deathbed. He didn't know how much of the characteristics of a cat rubbed off on him due to the miraculous, but in that moment, Adrien felt very much like a cat in desperate need of a place to hide. A place to die.

While he realized he himself may not die, there was a piece of his heart and soul that felt like it would. The blissful ignorance that his only remaining family had spent years trying to hurt him—trying to kill him—in order to bring back a life long gone… was the life of his mother more precious to his father than the life of his son?

To know he was so disposable in his father's eyes… yes, a little piece of him certainly was going to die.

He threw a bag of things together. Clothes and bathroom supplies and a couple of his most prized possessions. Everything else he left in his room before leaping out the window for what he thought would be the last time.

Duffel bag over his shoulder, he hurried to the Eiffel Tower and thanked his lucky stars that Ladybug wasn't there. It meant he could leave a note for her without having to face her. It meant he could bolt without anyone holding him back.

He didn't want her to see him break.

And with that, he ran. First to neighboring countries, then to further ones. He saw the world, and yet nothing awed him as it should. Not when he knew he was running from his problems.

It all caught up to him in a New York hotel room, leaving Adrien a sobbing, sniveling mess for days.

After a week of slowly traversing the stages of grief, not quite reaching acceptance but definitely closer than he had been for months, he forced himself off the bed, showered, shaved, and decided it was time to pull himself together. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was necessary.

"Glad to hear that, kid," Plagg said, nesting in Adrien's freshly-washed hair.

"How the hell did you put up with me?" he asked.

Plagg was quiet for a moment. "Honestly, kid, anything I had to say, you weren't ready to hear. There was no point."

Adrien sighed. "Thanks for being there for me anyway, Plagg. Even though I've been nothing but a mess."

"Even if you're an idiot, you're my chosen. And you needed me. But I'm not cheap. I accept all forms of cheese but prefer Camembert."

Adrien scoffed, the foreign feeling of a half-smile twisting his lips. "I'm pretty sure I owe you the most expensive Camembert I can find."

"Better believe it!"

For the first time in months, Adrien chuckled.

Though he was ready to move on, he wasn't ready to return to Paris again. There were too many deep cuts he wasn't ready to face yet, not when he already had so many wounds that needed to heal before then.

He found a reasonable apartment to rent in the New York City area, unwilling to go back to Paris as of yet, and stocked it with bare bone essentials. Then, he applied for an online school. He was undecided as of now, but he could at least start with some of the general education classes.

It was a start.

The fall had turned to winter, robbing the world of all warmth, yet Adrien was happy for the change. It meant the start of something new, even if that 'something new' was a season where everything went dormant and the world huddled away inside to escape the cold chasing them.

That's when Adrien received a message from an unknown number.

Hi, Chaton.

He stared at the message long and hard, a nickname he hadn't heard in months—no, nearly a year—staring at him on the screen. His heart nearly shattered at the sight. Ladybug?

It was like being hit by a train. All at once, every memory he'd suppressed flooded back, and he realized just how deeply he missed his lady. They had promised to reveal themselves. He had wanted it so badly.

And suddenly, despite knowing he had no right to ask for that—not after leaving her with only a note hastily taped to the bars of the Eiffel Tower that read "I must go, Ladybug. Good bye."—he wanted it again.

Here his lady was on the other end of his phone. She'd approachedhim. Despite feeling so undeserving, a flicker of hope sparked in his chest. With shaking fingers, Adrien typed, "My Lady?"

She sent him a selfie, the note he'd left her hiding her lips from the camera. If the tears in her eyes were anything to go by, it was strategically placed to hide her frown as well as the other half of her face from him. The image struck him in the chest harder than any one of Hawk Moth's akumas. His heart was going to be wearing that bruise for years, if not a lifetime.

How dare you, Chat.

He deserved that. He so deserved it. Tears prickled in his eyes before one broke free and rolled down his cheek.

I'm so sorry, My Lady.

He watched the dots of her impending response flicker for what felt like ages before a message appeared to replace them.

I've been searching for you for a year. Why'd you leave me?

That was the question, wasn't it? One he had struggled to face long enough to find an answer to. He didn't know what to say, but telling her that would feel like a sell out as well as a bit of a lie. And he couldn't lie to her. Not now. Not after she'd found him again. Eventually, he typed out, "That's a conversation we would need to have in person."

The response was much quicker this time.

Then I guess it's a good thing I'm in New York.

His jaw just about hit the ground as the world screeched to a dead standstill. What? She was in New York? Here?

Ladybug was here?

You're here?

Yeah. Do you know how long it took for me to hunt you down?

He knew it could not have been easy, especially since he'd been traveling around the world the first few months. Though, he had to wonder how she did it. How she found his number. How she found him.

I must have put you through hell.

In more ways than one. Are you free right now?

Free? Free to meet? Was she saying that she wanted to meet up with him? Even after he'd left her? Even after he'd ran away without an explanation?

I'm free all day. Where do you want to meet? I'm not aware of any places to meet and stay hidden. I haven't transformed much since I left Paris.

No, not transformed.

Adrien nearly dropped his phone. What did she mean 'not transformed'? Why…

His breathing quickened as she sent yet another text.

It's cold. I found a nice little café, and I'm loath to leave it. Since you left me, the least you can do is come meet me here.

She then sent a picture of a coffee cup with a logo and a very appealing looking cookie. In the background, he could see a corner of the café as well as her pink, polka dotted purse plopped on the table.

Come find me, Chaton. It's the least you can do for making me come to New York.

Before he could even realize what was happening, Adrien grabbed a coat and his apartment keys and was out the door, He knew that café logo. He loved that café. It was a nice, quiet place to study and happened to be able to brew a real, good espresso.

He shuffled along with the flow of pedestrians, though it was hard not to push through the crowd. His lady was waiting for him, after all.

I'm on my way.

While making his way as fast as he could to the café, he couldn't stop himself from staring at the photo she'd sent, his eyes lingering on her purse. It was obviously reminiscent of his lady, being the ladybug she was, but the pink color brought back memories of another woman he knew. He stopped for a moment to wonder just how Marinette was doing. After three months of being MIA, he did reach out to Nino again, and while Adrien did keep in contact with Nino who did keep him up to date with all the happenings of Paris and their old friends, it wasn't nearly as much as before. Between the time differences and their busy schedules, it was hard to find a time to have a conversation.

A sharp wind whipped past him, calling him back to reality. Reality being a bustling city with half the amount of rich history of Paris and twice as cold. Maybe he should have brought a scarf. But then again, he couldn't bear to wear one anymore since he had left behind the one his father had made for him. It hurt too much to know his favorite scarf had been made by the man who had once tried to kill him on a daily basis.

Besides, he was used to the cold. He ran around as Chat Noir on a regular basis in all kinds of weather, usually wearing only his miraculous suit. But then again, it was always hard to notice just how cold winter could be when his lady was by his side.

When the café came into sight, he broke into a jog, the biting chill of winter suddenly fading away around him. He just couldn't help it; the excitement building up inside him was about to bubble over. His lady was here. She was here and wanted to meet. Even after he'd ran away with no explanation, even after she'd had to track him down and fly to New York to see him. Even if she did it just to yell at him, he'd take it. He deserved it.

But he knew his lady. She might yell at him, but she wouldn't leave it at that. And knowing that kept the hopeful flame in his chest still burning.

In front of the café, his steps slowed as he turned to stare inside the building. The biting chill of the dead of winter had frosted the glass of the warm coffee shop over, making it harder to see inside. He found a spot that wasn't so frosted and froze upon spying the pink, polka-dotted purse on the table before him.

And just when he looked over at the woman sitting there, one with black hair he thought he'd recognize anywhere, she looked up at him.

His heart leapt into his throat. Marinette?

His breathing came in rapid, ragged pants. His blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out the world around him. Around them. He couldn't even hear himself but rather felt the endearment "My Lady" tumble from his lips.

She smiled, though she also looked like she was about to cry as she reached forward toward the frosted bit of glass and wrote "Hi, Chaton," in the condensation.

That broke him.

He ran into the coffee shop, getting to her the only thing going through his mind.

The hug was on instinct.

She stood from her seat, chair scraping across the flooring as she spun to face him, and he couldn't not tackle her, clinging to her and squeezing her tightly. But she returned the favor, grabbing his jacket as he lifted her off the ground.

He did not know how much he needed this.

"Chaton," she said, her voice muffled considering how her face was buried into his shoulder.

"My Lady." His fingers dug into her pink sweater as he desperately clung to her. Letting go of this woman wasn't anywhere in his mind at the moment. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too."

They stayed like that a moment longer before he reluctantly put her back on the ground, but even then, they didn't fully let go. His hands refused to leave her waist, and she still held on to his shoulders.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you?" Her voice was weak and warbly, but above all, it was priceless. Priceless to hear her voice with her accent speaking in his native tongue… every last detail was beyond precious to him. Even if her words were lightly scolding.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his head appropriately bowed in shame. "I'm so so sorry, my Lady. I just… I just couldn't stay…"

She rubbed his shoulders, causing him to look back up to her. "I didn't understand why until I figured out who you were," she said. "Tikki confessed it to me about six months ago, and then… then everything made sense. I understood, but at the same time, I didn't understand at all. Why wouldn't you come to me? I thought we were partners and…"

She trailed off. And while Adrien felt like his world only consisted of Marinette at his point, he could suddenly feel the gaze of some people in the coffee shop lingering on them.

"Marinette," he said, her name rolling off his lips and feeling so addicting that he would love to find any excuse to say her name again. "Should we find somewhere more private to finish this conversation?"

She looked around, a light blush dusting her cheeks as she nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

He twined their hands together before leading her out of the café with the intent of taking her back to his apartment, away from prying eyes. Maybe he should have asked her if that was okay with her. But she never asked where they were going or where Adrien was leading her. Instead, she nestled against Adrien's side, her free hand clinging to his elbow.

Warmth spread through him despite the cold, winter air blowing by. He doubted that it was just the proximity to another person that warmed him, but the fact that it was her and she was here by his side.

He squeezed her hand. I'm here, he wanted to say but couldn't find the courage to speak the words out. I'm here, and I'm never letting you go.

When she returned the gesture, Adrien's heart felt like it could explode. It was as though she could respond to his mental conversation. I know. And I'm okay with that.

If the situation was different, he might dare to press his luck by laying a kiss to the top of her head. But right now was not the time nor place no matter how badly his heart wished for it.

When they arrived at his apartment, they sat on the sole couch in his apartment.

And aired all their dirty laundry.

For two hours, it was a mess of angry rants, a myriad of tears, screaming fights, and profuse apologies.

And in the end, it resulted with Marinette curled on Adrien's chest, each holding on to the other in silence. Their throats were sore, their cheeks stained with tear trails, and their hearts exhausted for having old wounds cut open, laid bare, and then roughly sewn back together.

It wasn't perfect. It was a mess. It hurt like hell. Yet, they'd make it through, just not like they always had. The past was in the past and they had experienced too much to be the same as they were back when they were teenagers. Now, this was the best they could do.

And that was okay.

Because finally, after months of separation and hiding, Adrien realized they'd always just done the best they could. They just always did their best together.

Why Adrien had ever thought of running from that was beyond him. But he was done running. Done hiding. He made a silent vow then and there that whatever he and his lady faced next, they would face it together.

No matter what.