Ed notes: A huge thank you has to go out to the LBSC crowd, for all their help with planning heists (I'm sorry I didn't go with parachuting the tutu out a sixth floor window), their demand for more smooches, their encouragement and support.
Coryphée
A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction
By Mintaka14
Chapter Five – Apothéose
The sight of Luka on her doorstep in the morning always caused Marinette's unruly heart to stutter, but that morning the new memory of the feel of his mouth on hers sent a heady rush through her. Unconsciously, her hand lifted to touch her lips, and his eyes caught on the gesture.
"Come back to the Liberty with me tonight," Luka coaxed, that husky note in his voice sending shivers down her spine as they started towards the metro together. His fingers tangled with hers, his thumb tracing a line down the edge of her palm. "Just to hang out. Or not."
"I wish I could," she sighed, trying to gather the thoughts he was scattering. "But I have to finish fixing the Florine costume I stole before tomorrow morning, or they're going to find out it's missing and kick me out of the company and I'll end up going to jail for the rest of my life, or have to leave the country and go on the run."
Luka missed a step and came to a stop, pulling her up short.
"Wait, what?"
He was staring at her, his mouth open.
"You stole your costume?"
"After Lila snuck in and damaged it," Marinette said sourly. "I had to, to fix it."
"You stole it?" he repeated as if he were stuck on a loop. "When did this happen? How didn't I know?"
"It was after Lila put glass in my shoes. You were busy being an idiot and avoiding me."
He jolted into motion again at that, and Marinette found herself engulfed in a tight embrace.
"I really was an idiot," Luka told her apologetically. "I did suffer for it, though, thinking you were seconds away from telling me you were with Adrien."
"Good," she muttered. "It wasn't exactly a picnic for me, either." She glanced up at him as they started walking again. "The whole time I was crawling through that ceiling, though, I was wishing it was you there with me."
"Crawling through the… I have to know, what on earth were you doing in the ceiling? And how the hell did you get up there?"
So she told him. By the time they reached the Palais Garnier, he was wheezing with laughter.
"Melody, you were born to be a Couffaine," he said, his voice shaking. Marinette shot him a provocative look from under the sweep of her eyelashes.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, mister. Before anything else, I need to fix the tutu and find a way to get it back without anyone noticing."
"That's all the motivation I need," he told her a little unsteadily, then the laughter in his eyes became something more intense, and when he bent to kiss her, all thought of the tutu left her in a rush as her eyelids fluttered shut.
"I'm not going to get anything done if you keep doing that," she complained breathlessly as his hand came up to brush her cheek. "I already lost one night of work last night, and you're very distracting."
He grinned down at her. "I promise, no distracting until you're not facing imminent arrest."
True to his word, when he climbed through the trapdoor into her bedroom that night he had his acoustic guitar in his hand and Juleka right behind him. Marinette lowered the intricate beading she was reconstructing and raised an eyebrow at the Couffaines, and Juleka rolled her eyes.
"I'm here to make sure there's no distracting going on," she said drily. "And I told you so. Dumbasses, the both of you."
"Ignore her," Luka told Marinette, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her upturned face. "She's just being unnecessarily smug. Whatever we can do to help, we're here."
"Luka said you need help with a heist," Juleka said with a faint flicker of enthusiasm.
"More like a reverse heist. I have to break a valuable tutu back into the costume department at the Palais Garnier."
Juleka's black lipsticked mouth curled up in a smile. "Awesome. I'm in."
"None of that's going to matter if I don't get it finished first." Marinette looked down at the heap of glittering beads and satin in her lap and sighed.
"Then you focus on that," Luka said calmly.
Even with the prospect of ruin staring her in the face, Marinette felt happier than she had in a long time. The pattern of glittering feathers was starting to emerge again, and she threaded another sequin into place, stitching it down.
"Is it weird that I'm actually enjoying myself?"
"Yes," Juleka muttered.
"No," Luka answered, and settled himself on the floor with his guitar.
"Are you going to stay with the company after all this?" Juleka asked. "Or are you going to quit?"
"I'm not backing down. I'm not going to give Lila the satisfaction," Marinette growled. The tune that Luka was idly playing shifted into something a little dissonant.
"If you're doing something that makes you unhappy just to spite Lila," Luka said, his attention on his fingering, "then hasn't she already won?"
"What am I supposed to do? I can't just let her get away with everything she's done."
"Leave or stay with the ballet company, you know I'm with you. Just don't let it be because of Lila. That's giving her too much power over you." He played an idle chord. "And besides, there are other ways to deal with her."
"The Seine is deep," Juleka observed darkly. "No one would find her."
The Couffaines looked at each other over Marinette's head.
"No!" she told them forcefully, then added, "Lila can't spend the rest of her life regretting that she ever messed with me if she's at the bottom of the Seine."
And Luka burst out laughing.
"I think we've had a bad effect on you, melody," he managed eventually, and Marinette tilted her nose at him.
"I was perfectly capable of murder and mayhem before you came along, Luka Couffaine."
Juleka shrugged. "She was. Remember when we first met her?"
"I remember," Luka said softly, his eyes on Marinette.
"I wonder what happened to that kid who was picking on me, the blonde one who seemed to think she owned the place?" Juleka said, spinning lazily on Marinette's desk chair. "We never did see her at any more of the arts competitions after that."
Luka's guitar drifted from one song into another while they talked and Marinette sewed. It was somewhere around one in the morning when Marinette finally set the last stitch and sighed, holding the costume out to inspect the bodice critically.
She gave another sigh.
"Done."
She carried it over to her desk and carefully laid the tutu in the linen bag, and came back to collapse onto the couch. Luka set aside his guitar and slid in beside her. He lifted her hand, the feather-soft blue tips of his hair brushing her wrist as he bent to press lingering kisses to the abused fingertips.
"Done," he echoed tenderly. "Brilliant girl."
"Gross," Juleka muttered on the other side of Marinette's bedroom.
Luka had always been one for casual hugs and touches, at least with the people he truly cared about, but Marinette hadn't realised how much he'd really held back with her. He ignored Juleka and wrapped himself around Marinette, his face buried in her shoulder, and Marinette sank back into his embrace with a blissful sigh.
"Oh god, you two are going to be completely disgusting from now on, aren't you?" Juleka groaned.
"Yup," said Luka into Marinette's hair.
"So what now?" his sister asked.
"I have no idea," Marinette said, distracted by the feel of Luka's lips against her neck. "I have to figure out how to get the costume back before the dress rehearsal tonight, but how on earth am I supposed to do that? I can't just wander in with a bag full of tutu and say 'Oh, look what I found!' "
She could feel Luka's chuckle rumble in his chest. "You're the one with the brilliant ideas. Jules and I are just here to do your bidding."
She didn't feel terribly brilliant at that moment, but it was hard to work up much concern about it with Luka's fingers tracing patterns along the edge of her shirt and his mouth pressing kisses into the sensitive corner of her jaw. Her gaze drifted around the room.
"Oh!" Marinette sat bolt upright, and Luka complained as she pulled away. He fell backwards into the couch cushions. "Oh, I have a plan. Or… more a start of a plan."
"Of course you do, melody," Luka said fondly, still sprawled across the couch.
She reached for her phone.
"Who are you calling?"
She waited for the other end to pick up. "I think Adrien can make himself useful, if he's really serious about saving everyone's careers," she told them, her attention elsewhere as the call connected.
"So… you're planning to ask the guy you just turned down to help you commit a crime," Juleka pointed out, just as Adrien answered. "Nice."
"Marinette?" her partner's voice said sleepily as the silence grew awkward. "Are you there?"
"… yes, yes I… here. I'm here." She really hadn't thought this through. Luka was still stretched out on the couch behind her, but he'd flung his arms over his face and his shoulders were shaking. She gave him a shove, the unhelpful idiot.
"It's past one a.m. Is everything okay?"
"Adrien, I need your help."
There was another silence.
"You… need my help?"
"Or your father's help."
"My father's help?"
"Well, not your father in person, because obviously we couldn't tell him about any of this, but he is Gabriel Agreste and he did design the costumes, so he'd have access to them, and you're his son, so it's practically the same thing, and I only have a few hours to work out how to get it back otherwise I'm screwed, and the wardrobe staff are going to be in trouble, and –"
"Marinette," Adrien interrupted her babble, "what do you need?"
"Fake paperwork from Gabriel that needs to be signed by the costume director," she said in a small voice. "By eight o'clock tomorrow morning. It doesn't matter what it is, it just needs to sound plausible enough to give someone a reason to be up on the sixth floor."
There was a long silence, then Adrien's voice said, "I'll have something for you tomorrow at eight. I'll be at the stage entrance then."
After Marinette hung up, she sank down onto the couch and Luka wrapped his arms around her again. She drew in a deep, ragged breath.
"I just woke Adrien up at one in the morning to get him to help me reverse heist the tutu I stole. I'm going to get myself kicked out of the company and arrested and thrown in La Santé to rot, and they'll bring tour groups through as a warning to anyone who even thinks about stealing a tutu, while the rats nibble on my feet, and Lila's going to gloat because she won."
"That's not going to happen," Luka said, deep and sure. "What do you need us to do?"
"I'm going to need a distraction," Marinette said, tilting her head to look up at her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. That was going to take some getting used to, in all the best ways. "Something to get the staff out of the workshops and draw their attention for a few minutes."
Luka's soft smile sharpened to a roguish grin, and Marinette felt a moment of apprehension. There were times when she forgot that he was Anarka's son.
"I can do that."
"No explosions," she cautioned, and his grin grew wider.
"Don't you trust me? No explosions, no fire, I promise."
"O-kay." She gave him another mistrustful glance and turned her attention to Juleka.
"How do you feel about becoming an employee of Gabriel?"
Juleka's eyebrow rose.
"I can do that," she said, sounding very like her brother.
"Adrien's getting paperwork that'd give you an excuse to be up in the costume department – you need to get Mme Marchand to sign something for Gabriel. She'll be in Costume Central getting everything organised to go down to the dressing rooms before the dress rehearsal. All you need to do is walk the covered tutu up to the sixth floor and stash it near Costume Central, walk in with the paperwork and stall until the distraction gets her out of the room, and then get the tutu in there while no one's looking."
"What about the security cameras?" Luka asked.
"As long as we can get the tutu back in with no sign of damage and no sign that it was ever gone, then hopefully there won't be anything to trigger a security check into what's on the cameras."
Juleka shrugged. "By the time anyone checks the cameras, I'll be out of there. And what are they going to do anyway? There won't be anything missing, unless we completely botch it."
"I can get the tutu into the building, but I can't go anywhere near the sixth floor and the ateliers, particularly not with a tutu bag in my hands, without raising suspicions," Marinette said. "And neither can you, Luka. You're orchestra. But there's nothing to connect Juleka to any of this, particularly not if she goes in disguise."
"And if they look for me at Gabriel, they won't find any trace of me there." Juleka's mouth curved up in a smile. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Fun was not the word that Marinette would have used. She smothered a yawn, and Juleka pushed herself to her feet.
"Come on, Romeo," Juleka told her brother. "Mari needs at least some sleep, and you'll see her again soon enough."
Marinette followed them down and let them out into the street. Juleka wandered off after a quick hug, but Luka delayed on the doorstep. He reached out to brush a stray piece of hair back from her cheek, and his fingertips lingered.
"You have the most gorgeous blue eyes," he said softly.
"Luka!" she protested weakly, and the besotted look on his face brought a blush to her cheeks.
"I'm allowed to say things like that now," he insisted. He ducked his head a little to catch her gaze. "Hey. It's going to be okay. You've fixed the tutu and done brilliant things, and we'll get it back where it belongs. And then you can figure out where your heart belongs."
"My heart's right here," she sighed. She cuddled into his arms, and let herself breathe in his warm, familiar scent. "If I'm not a ballet dancer," she said into his shirt, "then what am I?"
"Melody, you are so much more than that."
Down the street, Juleka called out impatiently, and Luka reluctantly let her go.
"Get some sleep," he told her. "We'll figure the rest out in the morning."
…
When Luka arrived at the bakery door in the morning, he had Juleka with him, toting a large bag and dressed more conservatively than usual in black pants and a business-like shirt.
"What do you think?" Juleka asked as they headed towards the metro. "I've got blonde, red, or a hot-pink razor cut."
"Why on earth do you have so many wigs?" Marinette asked, and was interested to see Juleka blush. On Marinette's other side, Luka snorted.
"I bet Rose knows why," Luka told no one in particular. Juleka reached around Marinette to punch her brother in the arm. "Ow!"
"Is the red one firetruck, or auburn?" Marinette asked, ignoring the sibling violence.
"Auburn."
"Then go with that. People are more likely to remember the hair than any other detail about you, and once that's gone, they're less likely to recognise you again."
Adrien was lurking inside the stage doors as they arrived, and if anyone had been around it would have been obvious to them that he was up to something. Fortunately, the entrance hallway was empty. Any early morning preparations for the dress rehearsal that night were happening elsewhere, and most of the company dancers wouldn't be arriving for another hour or so.
Adrien handed Marinette a sheaf of papers, with a stealthy glance around the hallway.
"This should do it," he said in a stage whisper. Marinette glanced down at them, and they seemed to be something to do with creative intellectual property. "You can just say Natalie misfiled it and needs to be signed again, if anyone asks."
"Thank you," Marinette said sincerely. "And I'm sorry I got you involved in this."
"My father is going to kill me if he ever finds out," he said enthusiastically, "and I don't even care! I still don't know how you came up with all this on the fly like that. I've never met anyone quite like you," Adrien told her. He looked over at Luka and Juleka, waiting near the doors. "So you worked it out with Luka, then?"
"Yes," Marinette admitted, and Adrien nodded.
"I'm happy for you," he said, and it almost sounded genuine. He glanced ruefully at the papers in her hands. "Good luck."
"Thank you," she said again. "Really, Adrien, I'm so grateful for everything you've done."
He gave another short nod. "I'll see you in class." Then he pivoted and strode away.
Marinette drew a deep breath and turned back to Luka and Juleka.
"Right, let's do this." She steered them both towards the ladies' bathroom that hardly anyone ever used on the second floor, trying not to think too hard about what they were about to do, or how heavy the tutu bag hooked over her shoulder suddenly felt. Luka's hand settled on the small of her back, solid and reassuring, and she glanced up at him.
"Are you going to tell me anything about this distraction of yours?" Marinette wheedled, and Luka kissed the tip of her nose.
"I'm just going to use the fact that most of an orchestra always thinks that the violins are overrated," he said unperturbedly. "Just text me when you're ready to go, and give me five minutes to get things moving. Jules, you'll have a little less than a minute once the alarms go off."
Juleka nodded, but Marinette's eyes widened at that. "Alarms?"
…
Juleka hooked her hand through Marinette's arm and dragged her away.
"Should I be worried?" Marinette asked, her eyes still on Luka as Juleka pulled her into the ladies' bathroom with her.
"Too late now," Juleka told her. "You knew what he was like before you kissed him."
"That's not what I meant. Wait here," Marinette said, and disappeared out of the ladies' bathroom. Juleka pulled her makeup case out of the tote bag and got to work. She leaned in towards the mirror, carefully putting dark brown contacts over the recognisable golden hazel of her eyes, before she twisted her long black hair up and pinned it. It all disappeared under the auburn bob of her wig.
She was busy outlining her mouth in unremarkable pink when Marinette burst back into the bathroom.
"I got a clothes rack for the tutu," Marinette said a little breathlessly. "You just need to walk it up to the sixth floor and stash it near Costume Central until Luka does whatever he's got planned."
Marinette started unzipping her tutu bag, and Juleka put away the lipstick, reaching for her mascara wand. She shot her friend a sly look in the mirror.
"So, you and Luka. I'm just warning you now, I do not want to know any of the details."
Marinette sputtered, "I wouldn't –"
"Oh, he's so dreamy!" Juleka quoted in a teasing, squeaky voice. "Hasn't he got the most amazing –"
"Juleka!"
"I'm just saying, some things I really don't need to hear about my brother, not even from my best friend." Juleka thought about that for a moment. "Especially from my best friend. It's bad enough sharing a bedroom wall with him."
"Oh god," Marinette was looking horrified, and Juleka couldn't help smirking at her reflection as she carefully brushed mascara onto her eyelashes.
"And you do go all gushy when you're in lo-ove. I was there for the Great Adrien Crush, remember?"
Marinette buried her face in her hands. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
"Nope."
"You know this is different, right?" Marinette asked, sounding a little anxious. "With Luka… It's… Back when I was seventeen, and Luka had been seeing that girl he met at summer festival, I don't think I could ever have put it into words at the time, but it felt safer to let myself fall for Adrien like that. It was like a rollercoaster, a fun ride that turned me upside down, and it might have made me want to throw up sometimes, but it was never going to break my heart."
Marinette's voice dropped to a whisper that Juleka didn't think she was meant to hear. "Not like losing Luka would."
Juleka took pity on her and said, "You know you're stuck with my idiot brother now, don't you?" She put down her mascara and turned to Marinette. "He's all yours, and you get to deal with the sappy songs and him stealing your eyeliner all the time, and his crap all over the place."
The slow beam that spread over Marinette's face was every bit as dopey as Luka's had ever been, and Juleka sighed deeply.
"Let's get this done before I hurl from a sugar overdose. How do I look?"
Marinette subjected her to a critical investigation. "Unrecognisable."
They left the bathroom, and Marinette hooked the tutu in its covering over the mobile rack outside, and helped Juleka steer it into the lift used for moving props and costumes. The doors closed behind her.
"Right," Juleka muttered, and stood straighter as the doors opened again on a corridor of glass windows and workshops and people hurrying past with arms full of shoes and bundles of prop swords. "This is just like performing. Own the stage."
It wasn't hard to work out where Costume Central was, and Juleka parked her rack with the tutu nearby, telling herself to just act like she was meant to be there. The one person who gave her a curious glance got Juleka's best goth glare in return, and turned away as Juleka strode past.
Juleka's bootheels sounded loud on the wooden floor of Costume Central. The woman who looked up and gave Juleka a cool stare over the top of her glasses was clearly Juleka's target, and Juleka made her way around the counters and stands full of costumes.
"Mme Marchand?"
"Can I help you?"
Juleka held out the sheaf of paperwork.
"I'm from Gabriel. I've been asked to get your signature on these forms."
While the woman turned over the pages, reading quickly through them, Juleka let her eyes wander around the room. She caught a glimpse of a rack with six or seven linen-covered tutus, and a tag with the words Soloist Dressing Room just visible. That was obviously her best bet for returning Marinette's tutu.
"I've already signed these," the woman said impatiently, and Juleka jolted back to attention. "M. Agreste should already have these."
"Maybe they got lost or something." Shit, what was the name Adrien had said? "All I know is, Natalie said she can't find the paperwork, and we needed to get another copy signed, like, now."
"Natalie?" the woman said with a frown. "Natalie Sancoeur? It's not like her to lose something like the intellectual property contracts. Was she the one who sent you here?"
Juleka tried to look bored rather than nervous, like this was all above her pay grade and she didn't care as long as no one was blaming her. She gave a shrug, hoping that the nerves didn't show, and pointed at the sheaf of papers.
"They just gave me those, and said get your signature."
That was the moment when the alarms went off at the other end of the floor, and they both whipped around to face the disturbance. Juleka let out the breath that she'd been holding as Mme Marchand almost ran to deal with this new crisis. She could have kissed her brother for his sense of timing.
Now she had a matter of seconds, and a contraband tutu to restore, before they all got caught.
…
"Alarms?" The way that Marinette's beautiful blue eyes went wide was adorable, and Luka gave Marinette one more lingering kiss before Juleka hauled her away and he was left to his own devices.
He wandered in the direction of the staff cafeteria. He was counting on finding enough of the orchestra there, even this early in the morning, and he let his gaze drift over the scattered tables. He settled on one of the louder groups, and sauntered over to join them.
Luka might be the calm one, the port in the storm, but Marinette needed a distraction and Couffaines knew all about chaos and how to stir it up.
He dropped into an empty seat, grinning as one of the percussionists tried to get the timpani soloist in a headlock, and he threw a comment or two into the usual bragging going on. Most of his attention, though, was on his phone, and when it buzzed he glanced down at Marinette's message before he slid it back into his pocket and leaned forward on his elbows.
"Yeah, yeah," he told the young French horn player that he knew vaguely from the post-grad program at the Conservatory. "You say you guys have wind and stamina, but you're all talk. You couldn't keep up with me."
He laughed, leaning back while the French horn took the bait, puffing out his chest.
"No way, violin boy! All you string monkeys have going for you is a bit of wrist action." The horn player made a crude gesture. "Us brass guys can go all night."
"Prove it," Luka said with a lift of his eyebrow. "Doesn't even have to be all night. Let's see if you've got the wind to outrun me." He swept a mocking glance around the table. "Anyone else think they can keep up with the string monkey? Loser buys the drinks tonight."
And that, as he knew it would be, was the magic phrase. Half a dozen chairs were shoved back, and a handful of musicians were on their feet, all talking over each other and jeering and laughing.
"So where're we gonna do this?" the French horn player challenged him, and Luka pretended to think about it.
"Up the emergency stairs, through the sixth floor, back down here. Last one back here buys the drinks."
There was more laughing and jostling, and someone yelled Go! And they took off in a scramble of elbows and knees. Luka grinned as he jogged down the corridor just behind the horde.
The echo in the emergency stairwell was deafening as they panted and gasped their way up the stairs, and the door alarms shrilled with satisfying volume as the horn player at the front of the pack shoved the sixth floor doors open and belted into the costume department corridor. Staff came to the windows and boiled out of the doors in confusion as the musicians clattered past, and a woman with an air of authority emerged from the Costume Central door, striding towards them with a look of fury.
"Be careful of the costumes!" the woman yelled over the noise.
Costumiers and dressers yanked racks of clothing out of their path, shouting after them, and in the chaos, Luka was relieved see that no one seemed to notice his sister whisk the large round linen bag off one of the mobile stands and into Costume Central.
Then Juleka was out of sight and the runners were thundering down the staircase at the other end of the corridor. No need for Plan B. Luka put a hand to the stair railing, and vaulted over the side.
He hit the fifth floor and came to his feet just as the horn player yelled, "Hey! That's cheating!"
"No one said there was a rule against it!" Luka yelled back, and kept going down the stairs at a breakneck pace. After a lifetime climbing all over his mother's boat in all sorts of weather, a solid staircase held no terrors. On the second floor he blew a kiss to the adorable dancer with the startled blue eyes as he passed her, and skidded into the cafeteria.
He dropped into a chair and leaned back nonchalantly, his hands behind his head, as the French horn player collapsed and puffed and the rest of the horde staggered over to the table.
"I think we said something about loser buying tonight?" Luka said, surreptitiously glancing back in the direction of the corridor where his girlfriend and his sister would be.
"No fair," the horn player gasped.
"Nobody said anything about fair," Luka said, and grinned. "Good race, though. Drinks are on you."
…
"Distraction," Marinette muttered as her boyfriend raced past her and threw her a kiss. The sound of alarms were still echoing down the main stairwell, and she flattened herself against the wall beside the ladies' bathroom as half a dozen other young men ran past. "I suppose that was pretty distracting."
She glanced up at the staircase nervously, and tried to calm her breathing. Juleka was taking a long time, wasn't she?
"What are you doing? Hiding in the toilets? That seems appropriate," a voice said, and Marinette startled badly, clutching a hand to her chest.
"Lila," she grimaced.
The Italian girl sauntered closer. "Anyone might think you're not happy to see me," she said sweetly.
If Marinette's heart hadn't jumped when Lila startled her, it certainly constricted as Juleka in her auburn wig swung around the turn in the staircase. Juleka stopped as she caught Marinette's look of wide-eyed panic, her head tipping in a quick nod of understanding as she took in the girl facing Marinette down, and she retreated silently.
Marinette just had to make sure that Lila didn't see Juleka coming down the stairs from the costume department. She backed up a step, turning to draw Lila's attention, and she didn't have to pretend too hard to be afraid. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets to hide the trembling, and closed her fingers around her phone to still them.
"What do you want, Lila?" she said. She backed up a little further, putting more distance between her and the bathroom door. Lila stalked her, giving a little laugh when Marinette bumped into a wall and was brought up short. She was too close for Marinette's liking.
"Isn't it obvious by now? And I thought you were supposed to be so smart."
"I really don't understand, what on earth do you think you're going to get out of this?" Marinette voiced the question that had been at the back of her mind since Lila had started her campaign of intimidation. "You've only been in the company for less than a year so you weren't seriously up for the part that I got, and you're not even understudying me, so it's not like you're going to step into my solo if I'm not there. And getting rid of me isn't going to make Adrien more interested in you. What do you think is going to happen if you force me out of the way?"
"He'll change his mind fast enough once he's not distracted," Lila said with dismissive conviction. "And once I've convinced him I'm the one he wants, then it's only a matter of time until I'm getting the roles and the promotions as his partner. Watching you suffer is just icing on the cake as far as I'm concerned.
"And yet you hate me enough to risk your whole career just for a bit of petty vengeance on my costume," Marinette asked a little incredulously. All it would have taken was for one person to check the cameras and Lila could have been facing criminal charges.
"It wasn't that much of a risk though, was it? You were never going to tell on me. You smile sweetly and pretend to everyone that if you just work hard and wish upon a star all your dreams will come true, but underneath it all, you'll do anything to get ahead too. I may have ruined the costume, but you knew about it and didn't say anything to anyone because you didn't want to get into trouble. So unless you've waved your fairy wand and magicked it all better, the shit is going to hit the fan soon when they take out your tutu for the dress rehearsal. I'm going to enjoy watching you try to talk your way out of that one."
"You don't think they'll notice you on the security footage too?" Marinette asked.
"I think they won't have any evidence which one of us did the damage. It'll be my word against yours and you've made it so easy for me to convince everyone that you're losing it under pressure these past few weeks." Lila gave a smug little smirk. "You never said anything when you found out about the tutu. How do you think it's going to look now if you turn around and start accusing me now?"
Marinette thought about Mme Marchand's kindness in allowing Marinette glimpses of the new designs, and turning a blind eye to Marinette's frequent illicit presence in the ateliers, and the way Lila's sabotage would fall back on the costume designer. She thought of Adrien, the third person on the security footage, and how his father would probably react if that came out. Marinette's fingers curled tightly around the phone in her pocket.
She said, "Is it worth it?"
Lila stared at her as if she didn't understand the question.
Before this season, Marinette might have felt the same way. Of course it was worth it. The glittering goal of Danseuse Étoile was worth any price. She would never scheme and sabotage as Lila had done to get what she wanted, but Marinette had worked and driven herself to her limits and sacrificed so much that it made no sense to waste it all now, except… except…
The stupid thing, the really stupid thing, and Lila would never know this, was that all Lila's machinations were far more likely to make Marinette fight for a life she wasn't sure she wanted anymore. But, as Luka had pointed out, if Marinette stayed with the company just to spite Lila, then Lila had already won.
"If you spent even half of that time and energy on working on your dancing -"
For one short second, Lila's sly smugness cracked. "You think you know so much," she sneered, hard and bitter. "It's just so easy for you, isn't it?"
"It really isn't," Marinette whispered, taken aback by the look in Lila's eyes.
Past Lila, Marinette could see Juleka coming out of the bathroom, the tote slung over her shoulder and the red wig gone. Black and purple hair fell over her hazel eyes outlined with black kohl again, and there was no trace of the fashion house lackey left. Marinette let out an imperceptible sigh of relief as Juleka joined them.
Juleka turned a look on Lila, and tilted her head.
"This her?" she asked Marinette. She subjected Lila to a considering stare.
"What –?" Lila was saying indignantly, but Juleka ignored her to mutter to Marinette, "With the right weights, the Seine goes deep enough. No one would ever know."
"Was that meant to be scary? Did you bring your goth friend here to try and scare me?" Lila's contempt was scathing. "That's pathetic. Whatever you think you're going to achieve here, you and your –" she swept a glance over Juleka "- friend, I'm not scared. Although you should be."
The curl of Lila's smile became secretive and sly, a reminder of glass and gossip.
"We'll see, won't we?" Marinette said, and she was pleased at how calm her voice sounded. Marinette knew it was silly, but she could feel the space between her shoulder blades prickle as she turned her back to Lila and walked away.
"I still think you're missing an opportunity here," Juleka said beside her. "We have a boat, and I'm pretty sure Ma has a bale of chicken wire in there somewhere."
"What does Anarka need chicken wire for?" Marinette asked, momentarily diverted. Juleka shrugged.
"Don't know. I think she had some idea of making a giant papier-mâché thing and burning it for the next music festival."
Marinette's mouth hung open as she contemplated that.
"I don't know if I'm more terrified, or inspired," she said eventually.
Juleka muttered, "Welcome to my world."
"Just a minute." Marinette came to a stop, checking behind her to make sure that Lila was out of sight, and drew her phone out of her coat pocket with a hand that she was surprised to notice was still shaking. Juleka raised an eyebrow as Marinette pressed play, and Lila's voice sounded, a little muffled but perfectly clear and perfectly recognisable. She quickly backed it up to her email, and stuffed her phone in her bag.
"You got all that?" Juleka asked admiringly.
"Most of it." Marinette let out a breath. "I fumbled a bit when Lila caught up with me, so I missed the first part, but I got all of her telling me how she'd cut up the costume. If she tries anything else, I have the proof to stop her. Now, let's get you out of here before I have a complete meltdown. I'm not built for a life of crime."
"Uh-huh," Juleka said sceptically, but she didn't argue the point.
…
Classes and rehearsals ended early for the dress rehearsal, and everyone scattered for an early dinner before the hours of makeup and hair and warming up began. Marinette managed to snatch a few moments and a few more kisses with Luka in a quiet corner before she had to head for the dressing room she shared with the other female soloists.
And there it was, her tutu shining softly in layer upon layer of perfect, frothy blue gauze on its stand behind the long row of old desk-like dressing tables. Marinette let out a sigh of relief, and began to unpack her things.
She lined up four pairs of ballet slippers along the shelf that topped her dressing area, with the ribbons dangling over the edge, and her makeup remover, water and sewing kit on the tiny shelves beside the mirror.
The room grew noisy as more of the soloists arrived, calling out greetings to Marinette and gossiping as they claimed their dressing areas and began to get ready. Marinette sat down and started the laborious process of hair and makeup. She warmed up in the Foyer de la Danse with the music of Act One drifting back from the stage, and then it was time for the final preparations. The dresser helped her into her costume, hooking up the endless row of fastenings in the back and pinning the tiara firmly in place, settling the crystalline blue pendant over Marinette's smooth dark hair. The dresser moved away to help the next girl.
In the long mirror at the end of the dressing room, Marinette saw herself reflected, her eyes huge in her pale face and stage makeup. She was a jewelled princess, young and proud and willing to take flight if it meant escaping her prison.
The loudspeakers crackled with the call for Act Three starters. It was time to do what she'd trained for since she was old enough to put on her first pair of ballet slippers. Time to go and show Lila, and everyone that she'd dripped doubt and poison into, exactly what Marinette Dupain-Cheng was capable of.
Marinette walked softly through the darkness backstage and smiled serenely at Lila as she passed.
"What do you know?" she said artlessly, and spread her arms, giving a little turn to show her tutu. "I just waved my fairy wand and magicked it all better."
The girl turned almost the same shade of green as her court costume.
Marinette reached Adrien's side.
"Are you ready?" she whispered, and he turned, giving a start as he took in her azure tiers of feathered chiffon and gauze that caught the stray gleams of light from the stage. His eyes gravitated to the smooth, unblemished satin and the shimmering beadwork of her bodice.
"You're staring, Adrien. Eyes up here," she teased, and he jerked his gaze up to her face, his own face turning fiery red.
"You… I can't even tell it was damaged. How…?"
She dimpled at him. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
Just ahead of them in the wings, the White Cat settled her mask more firmly and Little Red Riding Hood's Wolf gave a quick spring to loosen up his limbs.
"Seriously, thank you, Adrien," Marinette whispered. "I couldn't have done it without your help."
From the orchestra pit, she heard the fanfare that heralded the fairytale characters.
"That's our cue."
Adrien took a breath and stretched out his hand. "After you, Milady."
And they stepped out into the brilliant lights of a sumptuous, glittering court.
…
The elation of a perfect performance lasted until Marinette came off stage after they ran the curtain calls. Backstage was alive with noise and congratulations, and dancers clattering back to their dressing rooms, while the stagehands reset the stage. Dark clothed figures hauled set pieces and ropes back into place and shouted down from the gantry overhead as Marinette made her way past.
An arm shot out of the velvety darkness of the wings, yanking Marinette around, and she found herself confronting Lila. She jerked her arm free and shot a frantic glance after the crowd of dancers ahead of her, but no one seemed to have seen what was going on.
"Just because you managed to fix that somehow," the Italian girl hissed, her hostile eyes raking over Marinette's costume, "doesn't mean that you've won. I've only just started."
For a moment, Marinette thought the girl was going to lunge at her right there, and she stepped back before she could find out if Lila really intended to do anything to her.
"I got you on record," she told Lila, watching the Italian girl carefully. "This morning, when you admitted what you did to the tutu, I got it on my phone."
Lila grew still. "You're lying."
"I can send you the sound file if you don't believe me." Marinette tilted an eyebrow, her spine stiffening now that the initial shock was wearing off. "I've saved it, in case you were thinking of doing anything."
"You play that to anyone, and you're admitting that you did something to the costume too," Lila spat at her.
"Yes, and it'd probably get me kicked out," Marinette admitted, "but I will gladly hand it over and take the consequences if you hurt me or anyone else ever again. Mutually assured destruction."
Lila made an abrupt movement towards her.
"Is everything okay?" Adrien's voice broke in, and Lila's motion was aborted. Her hands quickly clutched at her chest, her eyes widening, as Adrien came towards them, his gaze shifting uneasily between Lila and Marinette.
"Oh, Adrien!" Lila said a little breathlessly. "I was just telling Marinette how impressed I was by your pas de deux tonight. She's so lucky to have you as a partner."
"That's very kind of you," Adrien said, his tone polite and only a certain stiffness betraying his scepticism. "Marinette makes it easy."
Lila's façade slipped for a fraction of a second, then she pasted her smile back on.
"Some of us are going out for a late supper before we head home. You are coming, aren't you?" she asked, completely ignoring Marinette, and Adrien's smile grew stiffer.
"Thanks for the invitation, Lila, but I really have to get home, otherwise I'll be a wreck for opening night tomorrow."
"Maybe another time," Lila called after him as he and Marinette moved away. Adrien stayed close to Marinette, protective and silent, until they were out of earshot.
"What was that all about?" Adrien glanced back at Lila with a frown.
"Lila is a little unhappy that my tutu is intact," Marinette told him.
"You still think that was her?" he asked, but he didn't sound disbelieving.
"I know it was. I have her on tape admitting it."
Adrien's eyebrows shot sky high. "Then… you have to tell someone!"
"And confess what we did too?" Marinette asked, and Adrien's face turned pale. "Not unless there's no other choice."
They'd reached the door of Marinette's dressing room, and Adrien closed his mouth on whatever response he'd been about to make as she put her hand on the door.
"It'll be okay," she told him with more confidence than she actually felt after the encounter with Lila. "It's not going to come to that. She won't try anything while I've got that recording. We've got opening night tomorrow, and we just need to focus on that."
Any growing hope that they might have got away with it evaporated when she stepped into the dressing room and found the costume director herself there instead of the dressers who usually oversaw the minor role costumes. Mme Marchand was helping the other soloists out of their delicate tutus and gowns, returning the outfits to their hangers for cleaning and gathering up sweat-soaked undergarments and tights with calm method, and Marinette waited with growing apprehension for her turn.
Marinette was the last. Mme Marchand unhooked her briskly and whisked the costume away with a practised twist as Marinette stepped out of it and reached for her lightweight dressing robe.
"I know about the repairs," Mme Marchand said coolly, and Marinette felt her heart clutch in panic. She glanced at the other girls, but no one was close enough to hear, and no one seemed to be paying attention anyway. "Was that your work?"
All Marinette could do was nod dumbly.
"I knew there was something odd this morning when that girl turned up with paperwork that I'd already signed and confirmed with M. Agreste. I imagine you had something to do with that stampede, too."
Marinette stayed silent.
"I couldn't think what the point of it all was, until I took a closer look at your costume." Mme Marchand flipped the bodice inside out with a careful hand, showing the almost invisible line of the repair.
"Of course, once I watched the security footage it wasn't hard to work out who was behind it. Three days ago, there were three people who went into Costume Central who weren't supposed to be there, and it was your costume that had been mended. I still can't work out how on earth you and Adrien Agreste managed to take the tutu out without anything showing up," she mentioned.
"It also wasn't hard to guess why it needed to be repaired, once I went back a little further and saw Mlle Rossi where she wasn't supposed to be. I know you, Marinette, and I know what she is like. Although, of course, there is no proof that she actually did anything."
The silence in the pause grew thick, and Marinette could feel her own heartbeat pulsing furiously.
"There is no proof that any of you did anything," Mme Marchand added with emphasis. Marinette stared at her. "The costume is where it should be, and I only knew you'd done anything to it because I know every square inch of this garment. As do you, obviously." She shook out the gown, eyeing it critically. "This is exquisite work. I can't believe you managed this in three days."
"Two," Marinette amended faintly, thinking of the night she and Luka got together, and Mme Marchand looked up in astonishment.
"Two? Two days, in between rehearsals?"
Marinette nodded, and her head felt wobbly.
"Well." The costume director's eyes held a new measure of interest. "If you're ever looking for work in the wardrobe, come and find me."
She slid the linen cover over it and hung it carefully on the rack of costumes to be cleaned before opening night, leaving Marinette staring after her and trying to grasp that the axe hadn't fallen.
It was only when Marinette gave a convulsive shiver that she jolted out of her abstraction and realised that she was still standing around in only a thin robe. She untied her worn out pointe shoes and set them aside, her mind lost in the idea that had taken a hold of her at Mme Marchand's words as she pulled on her street clothes.
Out in the courtyard, Luka took his earphones out and straightened when he saw her. Marinette broke into a run, and threw herself into Luka's arms.
"Did you get into trouble about this morning?" she asked anxiously as soon as he set her down, and he gave a casual shrug.
"I got a slap on the wrist, and told to never do it again."
"I'm so sorry I dragged you into this."
His soft smile broadened into a full-blown grin. "I'm not. And Ma will be so proud – she was beginning to worry that I didn't have anything on my record. I'll have to apologise to the costume director, but she doesn't seem that terrifying."
"No," Marinette said slowly. "She's not."
Luka pulled back a little to look at her properly. "Melody, are you okay?"
"I think… I think she offered me an opportunity tonight."
"One you want?"
"… yes," Marinette breathed. "I think so."
This was starting to feel like the thing that had been missing, in all her unsettling discontent over the past months. She hadn't felt this sense of rightness about the path she was on in a very long time, and now that the panic was fading, she could feel a growing excitement. Plans began to unfold, and grew in her mind with astonishing speed. "Oh, yes, I want this."
She pulled Luka down to kiss him in a burst of fervent energy that left him reeling and looking dazed, and then, her forehead leaning against his, she couldn't help giggling.
"I hate to say it, but I think I owe Lila for this."
…
The last night of a production always had a different energy to the first night gala. The company was buzzing with that peculiar rush of exhilaration, melancholy and exhaustion that set in after the last curtain call and after the auditorium had emptied of the rustling dull roar of the audience. Marinette's parents had seen her performances earlier in the season, and so had Anarka and Juleka, so she didn't rush through removing her makeup at the line of mirrors in the dressing room she shared with the other female soloists.
"You're taking forever!" Alya complained from the doorway. "We're going to leave without you if you're not quick."
"You can go on ahead without me," Marinette suggested. "I'll get my own way there."
The company party would last for a few hours, and then whoever was still standing would drift off to spend whatever was left of the night at various clubs and bars and smaller private parties. Marinette was honestly just looking forward to going home and sleeping.
"I don't think so, girl. If I don't drag you there myself, you'll find an excuse to not even go. I feel like I've hardly seen you since performances started," Alya added, sounding a little hurt, and Marinette looked past her to where Lila was hovering, sharp-eyed and calculating, in the corridor. There was the reason she'd been avoiding Alya, because everywhere Alya went, Lila was glued to her side. And Marinette was fairly certain that everything she told Alya would get back to the Italian girl.
The one time she'd tentatively hinted at what Lila had done it hadn't gone well, and Marinette had backed off because, really, she couldn't produce the proof without opening a whole can of worms. Lila had kept up the campaign of insidious whispers against her, Marinette was fairly certain, but at least she'd stopped the physical attacks, and they'd reached a sort of stand-off.
The dressers had already taken away the costumes, and Marinette stood up in a rustle of skirts.
"Wow." Alya's eyes widened as she took in Marinette's gown. Her eyebrow shot up suggestively. "So who are you all dressed up for tonight? The ballet partner you're not crushing on anymore, or the musician you're just friends with?"
"Oh, that dress is just too cute for words," Lila chimed in, but it sounded like she was spitting glass. "Adrien is going to love it."
Marinette's own eyebrow rose at that, but she didn't respond. There was no way in hell she was going to give Lila more fuel. She picked up her beaded evening bag and came out to join them. She would collect the rest of her things from the dressing room later.
The Foyer de la Danse was filling up with company members as they emerged from the dressing rooms in their celebratory street clothes. The light from the rows of huge chandeliers shone on the polished parquet floor and glittered on the gilded pillars, but Marinette didn't spare a glance for the splendour around her, or for the painted glory of the vaulted ceilings.
She smiled at Adrien as her blond partner made his way through the crowd towards them.
"Congratulations to my partner in crime and ballet," she said with a smile, and he leaned in for a hug.
"You were incredible," Adrien told her, and his palms slid down from her shoulders to take her hands in his. "It's been wonderful dancing with you, and I think we made a great team. I hope we get a chance to partner again."
Marinette squeezed his hands gently, and stepped away.
"You were a fantastic partner, Adrien. It's been an honour to dance with you, but I'm leaving the company."
"Leaving! But… why? Everyone thought you were amazing on stage, and I know the director loved you. Every ballet dancer dreams of the opportunities you're going to have in front of you after tonight."
"This isn't what I want anymore," she told him. "The Costume Design Director here has arranged to take me on in the residency program here while I go back to study for a degree in Theatrical Design and Costuming, and that's what I'm going to do. I've learned a lot dancing in the corps, and I've made a lot of contacts, but this is what I want to do with it."
Adrien was staring at her in complete incomprehension, and she sighed. Very few of her friends in the company would ever understand wanting a life that didn't happen under the stage lights.
"But… leaving?" he repeated blankly.
"You're leaving?" Lila's voice rose dramatically behind her, drawing far more attention than Marinette had wanted, and she heard Alya's squawk of astonishment from somewhere close by. Marinette turned reluctantly just as the Italian girl threw her arms around her. "Oh no! Marinette, but we'll miss you so much! The corps just won't be the same without you."
Marinette tried to recoil from the embrace, but Lila had a firm grip. The girl clutched her closer.
"I knew you wouldn't last," Lila whispered poisonously in her ear. "It's wise of you to run while you can, before I completely destroy you."
"Yes, yes, you won," Marinette said absently. Over Lila's shoulder, she could see a tall young man in a formal black tailcoat, with a mess of blue and black hair and a violin case, his eyes scanning the chamber. She felt herself light up with a smile as he found her, and she broke Lila's hold, stepping away from her. "Good luck with that, Lila."
She patted Lila's arm as she drifted past the Italian girl, ignoring Lila's smothered hiss of outrage.
"Wow," Luka breathed as she drew closer. "When on earth did you find the time to make that?" He gestured at the soft, azure-blue skirts that flared out from the smoothly fitted bodice, and the crystal beads that twinkled like feathers falling through a twilight sky. "Is that based on your Florine gown?"
Marinette beamed at him. "You recognised it!"
She spun around slowly, showing off the dress, and tilted a smile at him over her shoulder.
"What do you think?"
"I think it's beautiful, and that you are beyond incredible, melody," he said in that husky voice that always did things to her.
She reached up and straightened his white bow tie, letting her hands linger on the lapels of his black tailcoat. The severe cut really did do very fine things to his lean, muscled frame.
"I like your usual look, Couffaine," she told him, "but I have to admit, you do scrub up nicely."
"Girl, you're with Luka?" Alya appeared at her side, almost vibrating with intense curiosity. "And you didn't tell me?! When did this happen?"
Marinette bit back the response While you were cosying up to the girl who glassed my shoes and wrecked my costume before the words could slip out.
"It just happened," she said vaguely.
"And you're leaving the company? You are going to tell me everything," Alya insisted, and hooked her hand through Marinette's arm. "All the details!"
Marinette gently disengaged Alya's hand.
"We just need to drop some things off at my place, and then we'll catch up with you all at the party," Marinette said, and Luka bent to press a kiss just behind her ear. "Half an hour."
"Maybe two," Luka murmured into her hair, and his voice sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Alya rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. You're not going to make it to the party are you?" she said.
Marinette could feel the blush rise in her cheeks, and the soft rumble of Luka's laugh. "I will call you tomorrow," she promised Alya.
Marinette circulated through the crowd, saying her goodbyes, and Madame stopped her to offer austere praise on a role well executed. There were kisses and congratulations, and Marinette moved from person to person until she arrived back at Luka. She took his hand, and took one more look around the Foyer de la Danse in all its gilded splendour, then the world narrowed down to the warm, callused fingers that closed around hers, and the warmer smile of the man that she loved.
"Are you ready to go?" Luka asked her gently.
Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her, and she heard the faint catch of his breath as her own smile widened, full of promise.
"Oh, yes," she said. "I'm ready."
Ed notes: There will be one more chapter, a short coda, to follow this. I should mention again the fabulous artwork by Edendaphne that sparked this fic. The movie Centre Stage and the Sadler's Wells books by Lorna Hill have had their influence here, and I've been having a lot of fun researching the Palais Garnier and the Paris Opera Ballet where I foolhardily set Coryphee. There has been a fair bit of stretching things and suspending disbelief, but hopefully it's been fun. Kudos and comments are love, and I'd love to know what you think of it.