"Marinette? Can I come in?"

Marinette gazed at Alya, stood in the doorway, as if she wasn't there. She blinked slowly. "Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry."

Alya gave her a look as she stepped inside the Dupain-Chengs' apartment, gently nudging past Mari when she didn't make any action to move herself. "We've still got fifteen minutes before we need to go get the lesson packages from Ms Bustier, there's no rush. Did you remember to eat today?"

Marinette nodded, making it clear she was irritated by the question by crossing her arms. "Mum made me eat a croissant. Why do I have to come again? Ms Bustier was fine with giving you my pack last time."

"Because she asked about you 'Nette, she's worried. She has reason to be too, you haven't been to see her once, or anyone else. When are you going to admit there's something wrong?"

"There's plenty that's wrong, Alya. There's just nothing wrong with me." Marinette said through her teeth, refusing to look Alya in the eye. "Stop asking."

Alya's eye twitched, but she held her tongue. She could argue with Marinette another time, after she got her out of the house.

Since the attack, Marinette had been strange. She only ever left the bakery when she absolutely had to, and once she was out, it took a lot of coaxing to get her back in. She'd wander, looking at the murals and street art with sad, pained eyes, as if she was in mourning. Alya sympathised of course— with no news of Ladybug for almost a month now it was starting to become a major concern that something serious had happened to her. In that sense, Marinette wasn't the only one suffering.

But still, Marinette was… off. She snapped at people all the time, her temper shorter than her attention span, constantly diverting conversation away from herself as often as possible and Alya was starting to notice visual ticks too. Mari had more than one tell: biting her fingernails, touching her earrings, pulling at her hair, and while Alya wasn't any kind of doctor, even she could see there was something that needed to be addressed there.

Marinette's head wasn't right. Often she would go missing for hours and not be able to tell anyone where she'd been beyond a vague 'I went for a walk'. She'll hole herself up in her room, make excuses about what she was doing in there, and more than once Alya had been turned down over the phone because Marinette was 'busy' or 'designing' all of a sudden. She'd forget things constantly, like eating or what day it was, though, perhaps most troubling was that she cried, a lot, and would try to keep it secret. It had gotten so bad that Sabine had asked Alya to check on Marinette in person, as Mari refused to tell her parents anything beyond passive aggression and loaded silences.

Alya's hope was that Ms Bustier could help. Nothing Mari's parents, classmates or Alya herself had tried had really gotten her to open up, but Marinette had always trusted Ms Bustier implicitly— Ms Bustier had never given her a reason not to. She was a good judge of character who gave simple, honest advice and would never patronise or accuse Marinette of anything. She was Alya's best chance of getting some kind of professional help for her friend, so last time she'd gone to collect their learning kits, she'd asked for her teacher's help with dragging Marinette back out of her shell. Of course Ms Bustier was more than happy to talk to Mari. It was getting Mari there that provided the problem.

Ms Bustier coming to the bakery could set Marinette off into a spiral— Alya had read about the dangers of invading personal space and boundaries in her attempts to be more considerate. She didn't want to bring an inevitably stressful conversation into Marinette's safe space. There was no telling how Marinette would react, and Alya was starting to learn there was a lot she didn't know about Marinette: she'd made a list and everything. For someone so expressive, Marinette, as turned out, easily hid a number of things from the people she cared about, and how much the recent attack was troubling her was obviously one of them. Though, she wasn't about to say that, in those words, to Mari's face.

"Okay. For today, I'll stop asking. But you're still coming with me to Ms Bustier's house. I'm not walking there by myself." Alya retorted, hugging her chest defensively. "Walking here alone was enough, thank you."

Marinette's face fell for a second, and she covered it up as soon as she registered it. "Fine. I'll go, but we're coming straight back here after, deal?"

Alya ignored her own guilt. Another thing on the list: Alya knew that Marinette would always do her best for her friends, whether it be favours, tutoring or making impromptu excuses on their behalf. Marinette was reliable, or at least she tried her hardest to be. Playing on her need to be supportive wasn't the kindest way of getting her outside, but it would work and Alya didn't have time for a twenty minute stress debate. She could deal with the guilt if it meant she could get Mari some proper, educated help.

"Deal, let's grab your bag and go then, if you've already eaten. It'll take us about ten minutes or so to get there."

Marinette leant over the sofa to grab her purse and the completed homework booklet from the previous week, "Okay."

"You need anything else?"

"No."

Alya frowned. One word answers weren't progress. "Mind if I go say hello to your parents first? I haven't seen my fairy godmother in a while and I'm beginning to miss my gal Sabine."

Marinette shook her head, stuffing a pack of tissues in her purse with more force than necessary. "They'll keep us here forever, let's just go. I don't want another lecture about safety from my Mum."

"She's been lecturing you?" Alya asked, a little surprised, though jumping on the chance to start a proper conversation. Marinette hadn't offered anything like a chat for ages and Alya was starving for her girl back. Venting was better than silence, as Mari's silence, Alya was learning, often meant she was keeping something to herself. Alya wanted in.

"For weeks now, yeah. Since the attack. She seems to be under the impression I'm 'irresponsible'." Marinette's expression soured as she sarcastically mimicked her mother's voice. "She thinks I make 'bad decisions'."

"Did she say that?"

"Basically, yeah."

"Yikes, didn't think Sabine had it in her."

"So you think she's right?" Marinette stopped, her hand on the door. "I'm irresponsible?"

"God no, Mari, that's not what I said at all. I just mean that I didn't think your mum was the type to have a go at you. She's like a pom-pom disguised as a person." Alya said quickly, backtracking as fast as she could. "You're too responsible if anything. I've seen you juggle class president work, science assignments, babysitting and Alix's birthday party perfectly, all in the same week." She was so close to getting Mari out, she couldn't mess up now.

"Sure, whatever. You wouldn't be the only one though. My dad's mad at me too, because I stopped helping out in the bakery." She pushed the door open and started walking down the stairs, not bothering to wait for Alya. She spoke bitterly. "I did it because I needed a break, not because I'm trying to offend him or hurt him or screw up his business, but it's like neither of them want to actually listen to me. I try and explain what I'm feeling and they just get angry at me. I think they think they've failed as parents or something."

Well, Alya didn't really know what to say to that. Clearly, Marinette really was not doing well, and it was worse than Alya had initially thought. Sabine hadn't mentioned arguments when she'd spoken to her, which not only made her suspicious, but more concerned that Mari needed someone outside of her immediate circle to talk to. Alya herself had booked in for counselling after the Perfect Candidate fiasco on her mother's recommendation, and it had been helpful, if a little stressful. Talking about her headspace, and what her motivations had been had definitely helped her work out a number of things, namely how she had to actively develop her way of thinking. A lot of her personal problems came from her tendency to be rash, and how she'd assume without asking. An idea would pop into her head and she'd act on the idea immediately, no deliberation or anything. The key to being a better person was making sure she added in that crucial deliberation before she actually did the stupid thing she was planning on doing.

Maybe talking to someone just outside of her family or friends could help Marinette air it all out too, finally talk about everything that was bothering her. Aside from whatever she was keeping in about the Akuma, the arguing and isolation had to be taking a toll on her psyche. Alya knew that Marinette treasured her privacy, and she protected it fiercely, but if she couldn't talk to Alya or Sabine or Tom, then she had to talk to someone, or she was going to explode.

Alya didn't want to see Marinette explode.

"Well, hey, if it's any consolation, I don't think any of those things 'Nette." Alya said, following Mari down the stairs, "They're probably just trying to help you and don't know how. My parents did the same thing about my reporting, trying to explain my motivations is a complete minefield."

Marinette managed a dry laugh and Alya couldn't help feeling a little proud of that. "Tell me about it. The conversation about having a career in fashion was riddled with 'are you sure you don't want a more secure career path?' and 'you know this is going to be very difficult to achieve'. It's the same with all the talk after the Akuma— I've already thought about it. I already know, like, do they really think I haven't considered everything they're about to say? I was just as scared as they were."

Alya pushed the door at the bottom of the stairs open. "Aggravating, right?"

"Oh, more than you'd believe. We've talked in circles for days. It's tiring." She gave Alya a weak smile. "I know I'm a lot right now. Thank you for… sticking around."

Alya frowned, scrunching up her face. "What do you mean? You thought I was going to leave you?"

Mari shrugged, "I'm difficult to deal with sometimes. I'm anxious and I overthink, and people don't always have the time or energy to hear all my freaking out. It wouldn't be the first time I've lost friends over it." She looked at Alya with a resigned expression, "You never thought it was weird that I had no close friends before you? I mean, I barely knew Nino before you came along, and we'd been in the same class for ages. People tend to steer clear of… messes like me."

Alya felt like she'd been dunked in cold water. She hadn't thought about it before. She added it to her mental list of 'Things She Didn't Know About Marinette Until Now', which was already long, guilt-fuelling and riddled with things that should've been obvious. While she didn't think Nino was the type to avoid Mari over her anxiety, as he not only suffered it himself but was too thoughtful to have been so unkind, she did know Mari tended to over-estimate other people's perception of her— after all, how many times had Marinette stolen phones, trying to hide her embarrassment from her friends? She could overreact like no one else when things didn't fit her plans and would go far beyond what she needed to to apologise to people by making them things or giving up her own happiness for them. It struck Alya then that maybe, Marinette had been so lonely, with no siblings or cousins and always busy parents, that she'd slowly, unseen, started to think she wasn't worth anyone's attention. Which, in Alya's own opinion, wasn't even the slightest bit true and was very quickly making her very, frustratingly, angry.

Alya, trying to keep her tone light but genuine, cleared her throat, "Mari, I'm so sorry you went through that, it wasn't right. I'm not going anywhere, I promise, and whoever didn't want you as a friend can square up with me. You're considerate and caring, you make killer dresses— honestly I've never met someone who gets more excited about quilting than you. You've got talent, you're kind, sweet and smart, a little frantic sometimes, and you deserve everything you've ever wanted, Mari. Besides girl, if you're willing to put up with me dragging you all over Paris for a scoop, then I think I'm more than capable of being your friend. I care about you, stupid."

Marinette smiled, but didn't offer a reply. Alya told herself she was fine with that. Pushing Marinette to say more than she was willing to would only cause an argument, and Alya didn't want to upset her anymore than she already had.

Now, all she had left to do was take Marinette to Ms Bustier house in agonising, tense silence.

…It was going to be a long walk.

Ms Bustier's place was as sweet as she was. A little away from the main roads, she lived in a quaint, upper floor apartment near to the Arc de Triomphe, and it was exactly the type of house you'd expect someone like her to live in.

Outside, the front of the flat was positively beaming with life. Each of the windows on one side opened to a mini balcony, colourful flowers bursting from every inch, clearly well loved. Tons of little ornate pots were growing baby plants of all kinds— both edible and purely visual, each little terracotta pot painted custom to its inhabitant. The balcony itself was netted in, as Ms Bustier, according to Alya, had a very fat, very aloof ginger cat called Byron who had sat on the balcony edge and nearly fallen, leading his concerned owner to block off the opportunity for any kind of cat pancakes to appear on the pavement below. Tied along the netting were ribbons and hand-sewn bunting, providing not only shade but even more endearing personality and colour to the flat.

As with everything she did, Ms Bustier's house was permeated with care, kindness and open invitation, and even Marinette, as angry and sad as she still was, had to admit the sight had cheered her up a little.

After Alya had rung the doorbell and Ms Bustier had buzzed them in, they took the lift in silence up to her floor. Alya knocked on her door once they reached it, curiously tapping yet another flower box, affixed to the door. Ms Bustier had fitted a little lamp above it, to make sure the little succulent inside had enough light, and decorated it with painted rainbow polka dots. It even had a little sign on the box that said 'Aloe you vera much!'.

Marinette resisted the smile that was threatening her face. This was already too much.

"Alya! Marinette! It's so nice to see you both, please come in! There's biscuits, water and juice in the living room if you'd like them. I'll just go get your lesson packs from upstairs, please do make yourselves comfortable!" Ms Bustier said with bright-faced cheer on opening the door, ushering the girls in and guiding them into the living room.

"Thanks Miss." Alya said as she plonked herself on the sofa and reached for a shortbread. "Oh, these are so good."

Ms Bustier smiled warmly, "I'm glad you like them. I'll be right back, Marinette sit wherever you'd like!"

Marinette sat next to Alya with some hesitation, glancing round the room. The walls were painted a cool olive, the skirting boards a lighter almond shade, and the floor was dark hardwood. Most of the furniture seemed secondhand, rescued from vintage sales and charity shops. Opposite the green sofa stood two tall bookshelves, filled to the brim with books of all kinds and littered with children's stickers, positioned either side of a old fashioned television. It sat atop two refashioned wooden crates, also stocked full of novels. In the middle of the room was an oval coffee table, stains all over creating a sort of random spotty pattern, with a plate of biscuits, napkins, two full jugs, and a stack of plastic cups stacked neatly on top.

It was sweet, homely. The room sung of someone who liked the effort of a work-in-progress, and had an obvious fondness for earth tones. It was Ms Bustier to a tee.

Marinette elbowed Alya lightly in the side, "Hey, how long are we staying?"

She shrugged. "Not sure, but long enough so that I can use the bathroom. I drank a whole two litre water bottle this morning."

"Why would you do that?"

"I was thirsty."

"It's nine o'clock in the morning. How could you be thirsty already?"

"I was thirsty, I'm not now. I drank two litres of water."

"Yes, I heard. You're insane."

Alya winked, pushing herself out from where she'd sunk into the sofa, sticking her head around the door. "Hey, Miss! Can I use your toilet?" She called up the stairs.

"Of course, Alya! It's just down the hall to your left." Ms Bustier shouted back.

"Thanks!" Alya turned back to Marinette. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Okay."

Ms Bustier came into the room a few moments later, gently pushing the door closed behind her. She laid the packs in her hands on the coffee table and moved to sit in a mustard arm chair to the right of the sofa. Marinette smiled at her nervously, already feeling under scrutiny. Ms Bustier had a unique way of both making her feel at ease and laid bare. There was no space for dishonesty or harboured negativity in Ms Bustier's company.

"How've you been Marinette? I haven't seen you for while." Ms Bustier said, busying herself with setting out the booklets.

"I've been… good… and bad?" Mari winced. Her tone didn't exactly install confidence in her mental stability.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ms Bustier asked calmly, without pressure, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm happy to listen if there's anything you need to get off your chest?"

Marinette wanted to lie and say she was okay, but she couldn't, not to Ms Bustier. It would be like punching a kitten— hurtful to both of them and entirely needless. "I… I'm fine, I'm just… mad… at myself."

"Mad at yourself?" Ms Bustier repeated, her gentle tone asking for Marinette to elaborate.

"I'm— it was the— it was in the, in the attack, how it was… I felt useless." Mari stammered after a pause, furiously wiping at her eyes. "I couldn't do anything, and Alya nearly died, and everything was broken, and I couldn't fix it and—"

"Marinette, you must know that's not your responsibility." Ms Bustier said softly, "You shouldn't blame yourself for things that aren't your fault."

"But they are!" Marinette blurted. "Or— at least I feel like they are. If I could've just been better, done better, I could've helped more, could've helped more people. People wouldn't have suffered as much if I did something more than spot check streets and reset fences. The little things don't feel like enough."

Ms Bustier clicked her tongue sympathetically, and held out a hand to Marinette, who took it. She laid her other hand on top and squeezed. "Marinette, I understand that wanting to help and not being able to is frustrating, and often we can feel that way. There are lots of things that we want to help with, but feel out of our reach. For example, I want to help rebuild our school quickly so we can all learn together again, but I don't know anything about plumbing or construction, and I'd only get in the way of the professionals working so hard to bring back our classroom. In the same way that my help would only hinder their progress, you endangering yourself further would only hurt you, your family and everyone else who loves you, like Alya and Nino. I can tell you for certain that the actions of Perfect Candidate and Hawk Moth were not your fault. You are not useless, your help is always appreciated and wonderfully thought out, but you can't expect yourself to fix everything alone, Marinette."

"But, Miss, all those people without homes, all those people who lost everything. The destruction and the disruption to everyone's lives. If just one missing Ladybug can make so much difference by not being there, then why couldn't one Marinette do the same?" Mari wiped her nose on her shoulder, unwilling to remove her hand from Ms Bustier's. "Why couldn't me, just as I am, make just as much difference? What's wrong with that?"

"Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir are certainly spectacular people, and we are very lucky to have them to protect us, but it doesn't mean that you can't be as much of a hero too, Marinette." Ms Bustier said soothingly, "While superpowers would be very nice to have, I know for certain that you can be just as miraculous by helping just one person, starting with yourself. A hero isn't measured by how much they do or how grand those actions are, it is the compassion and the care that goes into those deeds that makes the difference, and Marinette, you already have all those qualities! You just need to trust yourself in bringing them out safely. Throwing yourself into danger isn't the way to make things better."

She pulled Marinette to her feet, and then pulled her into a hug. "You are a very special, important and loved person. You living and breathing and trying to do good is enough. You being as good as you can be right now is enough. Recovery, and progress, it's not simple or linear, and you won't be able to fix everything all at once, but that's okay. Sometimes just trying to be alright again is as much of a heroic thing to do than anything else, okay?"

Marinette sniffled into Ms Bustier's cardigan. "Okay." She took a step back to pull the tissues out of her purse and blow her nose. "Sorry for getting snot on your jumper."

"That's nothing you need to apologise for, Marinette." She rubbed Mari's shoulder comfortingly, "You're not the first of my students to do so, and I doubt you'll be the last. Let's sit you back down and we'll go over the lesson plans for this week, alright?"

Mari nodded. She took a deep breath as she sat back on the sofa, running her hands over her leggings a little uncomfortably. She hadn't expected to rip the wound as open as that, it was like just being in the same vicinity as Ms Bustier suddenly injected her with truth serum, and while Marinette didn't know how Ms Bustier always knew what to say, but she felt much better now that she'd talked to her. She strongly suspected that was Alya's plan all along.

The door behind her clicked, and Alya slowly pushed her head around it, Byron trotting in after her. "Uhh. Am I okay to come in?"

Mari nodded, leaning down to pet Byron, who ignored her. "I didn't know you had a cat, Ms Bustier."

Ms Bustier laughed merrily, "I don't often mention him, but yes! This is Byron, I treasure him very much. My mother gave him to me as a housewarming gift. She seemed to be under the impression that I needed some pessimism to balance out my optimism, hence the name." She grinned when Marinette and Alya both looked her with confusion, "His namesake was poet known for, amongst more scandalous things, his satirical work. His poems are very interesting to read, but perhaps not for your audience just yet. He saw and scrutinised the negativity in people, while I like to look for the light, and my mother thought it'd be a funny dynamic."

"I don't understand." Alya said slowly, "Your cat hates people?"

"Well, I can't speak on his behalf." Ms Bustier said with an amused tone, "But he's more named for his flirtatiousness, I'd say. I've more than once found him trying to woo the pretty Persian lady next door. Isn't that right, Byron?"

Byron didn't offer a reply, not even a meow, but turned his head slightly. This apparently was enough of a response for Ms Bustier to slip him some treats and coo fondly.

"Huh." Alya said, under her breath so that only Marinette could hear. "I thought his name was just some other word for orange I'd just never heard of."

Ms Bustier leant back up and clapped her hands, having given Byron enough treats to satisfy him, "Now, girls! Back to the task at hand! Here are this week's assignments, Ms Mendeleiev and I worked very hard on them, so please do your best! If you need any help with the questions, don't hesitate to email or visit, just do let me know when."

She spun the packs around so they faced the girls and turned each page as she explained the contents. "You've got new topics on all three sciences, so please read those carefully, some reading for French and a passage to translate for English. We've left out art for this week as last week's project was so difficult, technology and music as well. For maths, you've just got a few equations to fill out, only these ten, but there's extension if you'd like it on the last page. Civics was also left out for this week, but Alya you do have a geography task, you need to write a two-hundred word summary of the different types of erosion, and Marinette for history you've been asked to make a guide outlining the causes of the Second World War. Do you both think this is do-able?"

Both girls nodded, taking their packs from Ms Bustier and thanking her.

"It's no problem! Now, if you can hand me your packs from last week, you two can take some shortbread to go, just wrap them in these napkins here, and that's all!" Ms Bustier said cheerfully, "You're good to go until next week!"

Alya stood, hands on hips. "Thanks, Miss! I'll take you up on that shortbread offer." She looked at Marinette as she took some chunks, "Want some?"

Marinette waved her hands, "No thank you, I think I'll just wait by the door." She stepped past, careful to avoid stepping on the cat, and walked out the door, nodding another quick thank you to Ms Bustier as she left.

Alya turned to Ms Bustier, whispering quickly, as soon as the door clicked shut, "Did you get a chance to talk to her?"

"Yes, I did, but I don't think it's fair to Marinette for me to tell you what she said, Alya."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I just wanted to ask to, y'know, make sure she got a chance to say what she needed to say." Alya replied, leaning back against the sofa and grabbing a spare napkin to fiddle with. "I really want her to be okay again. She's been so distant lately, it's like I can't reach her, and I don't… I don't know what to even say to her half the time."

Ms Bustier eyes' softened, "You mustn't rush her. She's going to need time."

Alya tied her napkin into plaits. "I'm trying, I'm trying, it's just difficult." She forced herself up. "There's so much I don't know how to help with."

"I know, but you've been doing fantastically so far, and so has Marinette!" She pulled Alya into a light hug. "I can't imagine how horrible what you two went though must have been, but I do know, for sure, that you are both very capable young girls who can do anything they put their minds do."

Alya gave Ms Bustier a squeeze and stepped back smiling, leaning down slightly so she could hook her backpack over her arm and slot her shortbread into the front pocket. "I know. I'm amazing."

Ms Bustier chuckled, picking up Byron and moving towards the door. "That you are, and Alya?"

"Yes, Miss?"

"You're just as welcome to stop for a chat if you need to, okay?"

Alya nodded, not knowing what to say. She settled for a grateful smile.

Marinette was waiting for her in the foyer, typing something on her phone. She looked up with a small smile when Alya walked over, knocking her gently with a shoulder, "Ready?"

Alya hummed as Marinette unlocked the door and walked through into the hall. "See you next week, Miss! Thanks again for the shortbread!"

Ms Bustier lifted one of Byron's paws to wave with, earning a laugh from Alya. "Safe journey home you two!"

Alya walked out after Marinette. She wasn't sure if her plan had worked exactly how she'd wanted it too, but at the very least she'd gotten her somewhere. If Marinette had opened up even a little to Ms Bustier, then she could count today as a win. It didn't mean, as Ms Bustier had told her, that Mari would be back to normal straight away. It would be selfish of Alya to ask her to be, after all, she herself wasn't the same as she'd been before the attack, so neither could she assume Mari would be.

Really, the worst damage Alya had suffered was a reality check and a twisted ankle. While her foot had healed within days, Mari's injuries hadn't. Marinette had not only had the mental trauma to deal with, but bruised ribs, aches and pains all over, not to mention the myriad of health issues that arose from the asphyxiation. Even if according to the paramedics that had examined them on the day she had 'luck to rival Ladybug', the girl had suffered— and she still was suffering. Trauma wasn't a competition, but Alya definitely felt as if she had no place to demand anything from Marinette right now.

She had to give her time.

Marinette turned, waiting until Alya had closed Ms Bustier's door on to ask. "Can we go back to mine now?"

"Oh, okay… If that's what you want to do." Alya murmured, trying to awkwardly put her booklet into her bag without taking it off her shoulder. "I don't mind."

"Yeah, I was thinking we could make some cookies? Triple Chocolate Deluxe? We've got all the ingredients, and I know they're your favourite." Marinette offered, half smiling, "If you'd like?"

"Oh hell yeah." Alya grinned wider than she had in weeks. "Absolutely."

Maybe Alya couldn't rush, but she could have patience, and if Marinette was willing to try too, then maybe they could both try to be better again.

Hopefully, sometime soon.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't understand, Tikki." Adrien said from his desk, head in his hands. "I don't understand anything anymore. Words have no meaning."

"Pardon?"

"The English assignment. I don't get it." He peeked an eye through his fingers. "…Can I have some help?"

Tikki put down her cookie and flew over. "Of course you can! Let me see, which part are you struggling with?"

"Here, see this line? I don't know what it says and I can't find the words in the English Dictionary." He gestured at the book beside him. "I want to give up. English is so much harder than Chinese, and that has a whole other alphabet to learn!"

"Don't worry Adrien, this part is just the title of the novel the passage is from. It says 'Pride and Prejudice'. I don't think you need to translate that."

"Thank you. Sorry, I'm really struggling." Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair. "English is my worst subject, the language rules are all over the place. I mean, have you seen how 'colonel' is spelt? It makes no sense!"

"No, don't be sorry, I'm happy to help!" Tikki said happily, floating up to pat him on the cheek. "Asking for help is good! Learning new things doesn't happen right away, you have to practice."

"Yeah, I know, it's just taking way longer than I thought it would." He looked at the time on his computer and groaned. "Oh my god, it's already midday, I'm never going to finish this."

Tikki hummed thoughtfully. "I think once you get the hang of it, it'll get a little easier. I would've thought you'd have liked Jane Austen. Her novels are all about love."

Adrien gave her a tired look, "I'd like her more if her works were easier. What does this sentence even say Tikki?"

Tikki peered over. "Adrien, that's the first line of the novel. I told you what it said when you asked me earlier."

"I forgot."

"Oh dear." Tikki frowned. That wasn't good.

Since Perfect Candidate, Adrien's schedule had been packed. Nathalie had jumped on the missing Ladybug story as a means to promote the Agreste brand the minute she worked out which way public opinion leaned, leaving Adrien sour and overworked as she booked him into every gig she could. He'd been forced into shoot after interview after audition, talking up the pro-Ladybug message though scripted remarks, over-the-top spotted print outfits and marketing gimmicks of all kinds. It was working for his public image, sure, but for his health? It was dragging him down in more than one way.

Emotionally, Adrien was struggling. The attack had been harrowing: seeing his home city in tatters, fighting almost non-stop without back-up, and nearly losing the people he cared about was undoubtedly weighing on his mind. The massive workload on top of all that was beginning to make him spacey, and Tikki had noticed him becoming increasingly forgetful and finding it harder to concentrate. It was also impacting his sleep: with his head running a hundred miles an hour with worry, Adrien was hardly getting his forty winks.

He couldn't stop worrying about Ladybug either, which Tikki couldn't help but feel a little responsible for. After all, she was the one who'd stressed that Ladybug would definitely come to the fight; while technically she hadn't been wrong, Marinette had come, Adrien didn't exactly know she was his superhero best friend. She still refused to tell him who her charge was— no matter the circumstances that information stayed confidential— so Adrien had immediately assumed something bad must have happened to her, his mind racing with horrible ideas. He'd been distraught, trying to figure out anyway to find or help her, and all throughout Tikki hadn't been able to tell him anything. She couldn't even, in good conscience, tell him Ladybug was unharmed after seeing how Marinette had been injured, inside and out.

In the end, with no one else offering to help him heal, except maybe Plagg's heartfelt but misguided pep talks, Tikki had instead self-appointed herself as his tutor. At the very least, she could help him with his homework.

"Okay, it says 'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife'. It's making reference to the main theme of the novel." Tikki said, skim reading the passage, "I've read it before, it's very lovely book. You really would like it."

"If I can find a version in French, I'd be happy to read it." Adrien laughed awkwardly, rubbing his eyes. "How much of this have I got left to do?"

Tikki glanced at the booklet, flipping the pages over. "Well, you already did the French, sciences and the geography, so it's just this and the maths portion left."

"Okay, then I'll do the maths in the morning. It's just equations right? I can do those no problem so it won't take me long, and then I'll have more time to do the extension questions after my shoot tomorrow." Adrien said, leaning back on his chair, grimacing. "I just have to translate this and that's that right? I can sleep after?"

"Um, not quite. It's asking you to translate so you can answer these questions at the bottom, not translate the whole thing. It'll go quicker if you just pick out the bits you need."

Groaning, Adrien pressed his palms to his eyes, "Why is this so difficult? I miss doing this with Nino, he's great at English. N-Not that doing this with you is bad or anything, I'm grateful for the help, really, but doing this at home makes me really miss school." He sighed sadly, "I just want things to go back to normal."

"I know Adrien, I know, but let's answer these first, have a nap and then we'll worry about that, okay?" Tikki murmured kindly, handing him a pencil.

"Okay."

"Right first question… What is the occasion that Mr and Mrs Bennet are talking about?" Tikki frowned. "Oh, Adrien, I can just give you the answers to these. I know all this."

"Really?" Adrien looked at her with hope in his eyes, "I don't have to translate anything else?"

"Nope! I'll fill this in, you go sleep. You look as if you haven't seen a bed in years." She tutted, ushering him over to his bed. "You get to sleep, I'll finish the questions, no problem."

"Are you sure, Tikki? I don't want to—" Adrien started.

Tikki lifted her paws, making a cross shape with her arms. "No! It's not an issue at all. You, Chat Noir, champion of Paris, need a cat nap." She phased in and out of his pillow to fluff it up. "Go get— go get yourself to bed!"

Adrien didn't argue. He didn't really want to if he was being honest, he was so tired, and it wasn't long before he fell into sleep's welcoming embrace. The moment his head hit the pillow, the boy was out like a light.

Humming to herself, Tikki scratched the answers to Adrien's homework onto his booklet merrily, the pencil going blunt at the angle she pressed it to the paper. It wasn't easy for her to hold, the HB exceeded her height by several centimetres, but she was enjoying herself nonetheless. Even if this was just a excerpt, she hadn't read a book in ages and she was enjoying the familiar thrill of a novel— that evil little red one didn't count. She and Plagg hadn't got past the cover, and she'd much rather read Austen than whatever hell was written in there.

By the time she'd reached the last question, Plagg had come to sit next to her. He looked at the booklet with disinterest.

"Seriously, Spots, I don't get it. What is so fun about work?" Plagg grumbled, resting his head on his arms. "It's work, and it's not even your work!"

"It's literature! Literature isn't work, it's fun!" Tikki giggled, jostling and nearly dropping the pencil. "I love to read, you know that!"

Plagg rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, I know that. I remember very well how you'd hole yourself up in your house and read non-stop, so that one of us would eventually have to drag you out of there before you wasted away into dust. Ah, such wonderful memories."

"Oh, c'mon, I wasn't that bad." Tikki joked, "I remembered to eat and drink just fine."

"Uhh, yeah you were. One time, you barricaded the door with books so Wayzz couldn't get in and ask you to do errands." Plagg huffed. "It's funny really, he's just as guilty of being a shut in as you are."

Tikki laughed. "Okay, okay, that's true at least." She closed the booklet and dragged it so it sat neatly in the centre of Adrien's desk, laying the pencil on top. "Right, now that that's done, I think we better get some rest too. If Adrien is going to get up before his shoot tomorrow to do those math questions then we better get some kip too, d-don't you think?"

Plagg grinned, fang's glinting, "I'm always down for nap."

"Great!" Tikki floated over to the sock drawer and patted it eagerly. "Nnn— ap— N-Nap— Bedtime!"

Plagg gave her an odd look, but tucked himself into his favourite pair anyway. "You okay? You're stuttering."

"Yep!" She chirped. "Just f-fi-fine! Sleepy, that's all!" She wiggled into the drawer next to him.

While he didn't seem entirely convinced, Plagg snorted and rolled over anyway, taking less than a minute to fall asleep. Tikki looked at him fondly; like holder, like Kwami. She waited for a moment or two, checking that Plagg was definitely asleep, before carefully lifting herself out of the drawer.

Really, she knew that by now she had stayed with Adrien and Plagg for too long. She'd little choice but to go eventually, but it didn't make it any less hard to leave. It had been almost a month since she'd last seen Marinette, not that she was counting, and aside from the ever present danger of a super villain attack, if Tikki didn't get near her miraculous soon… well, she'd have a lot more to worry about than Plagg's snoring. She'd been close enough to it for a refresher when Chat had rescued Marinette, but she needed to be reunited, with both her gem and Marinette, or soon enough she'd be in some real trouble.

She couldn't wait any longer.

Since the attack, Adrien hadn't been allowed out of the house by himself, only with an escort. With the excuse of school removed, Adrien only left under strict supervision for photoshoots, media interviews and piano recitals, of which there'd been only one, and anything else he'd tried to use as an opportunity to get out hadn't worked. Nathalie had been the one sent to collect lesson packs after Nino had tried to use them as an excuse to visit, the Gorilla had started fetching croissants on Adrien's behalf when he'd suggested going to the bakery, and Gabriel had had a secure Skype account set up when Adrien had asked to see his friends. All his efforts had done was leave himself miserable and Tikki no closer to Marinette.

Even his moonlighting as Chat Noir had done nothing to raise the collective morale. Though it provided a short reprieve from the oppression of the Agreste mansion and the isolation that came with it, Tikki couldn't exactly direct Chat to Marinette's house. The bakery would be closed by night time, so she couldn't use her need for cookies as an excuse, and Adrien knew where Marinette lived. Her luck didn't extend so far that he'd forget that fact suddenly, and he was certainly smart enough to make the connection between Ladybug and Mari with so many clues, so that left Tikki one last option.

Escape.

As quietly as she dared, Tikki pushed a pair of red socks next to Plagg to act as a dummy. The sock drawer was far enough away from Adrien's bed that in the darkness, he could easily mistake the red blob of rolled up ankle socks for a sleeping Tikki, curled up like a kitten. Of course, it wouldn't fool either of them once they woke up, but in sleep it would work as enough of a body double, even if it was a little silly.

She flew back to Adrien's desk to write a rushed goodbye note on a spare notepad, explaining succinctly where she was going, in vague enough terms, how much she was thankful for his care, and how she hoped they'd both forgive her, which she planned to then tuck into a sleeping Adrien's hand. Leaving the note on the desk was too risky, as Nathalie would wake Adrien if he slept through his alarms, so putting it on his person might save them both the danger of a sudden reveal. Tikki would've left it with Plagg, but he had a tendency to decay things that annoyed him, which the note certainly would, and then Adrien would never see the letter and would assume she'd disappeared into thin air.

Her plan, admittedly, wasn't exactly well thought out beyond that. She'd been with Marinette many times to the Agreste Mansion to deliver presents or defeat villains, and she was hoping she'd retained enough memory of those journeys to make her way to the Dupain-Cheng household from the gate. If she hadn't, then she'd simply backtrack and sulk within the socks until she could think of something else, perhaps rip up the note and burn the pieces.

But, she owed it to Marinette to try.

Silently, Tikki floated up into the middle of the room, gazing down at Plagg. She wished they could just stay together, but no, it was too dangerous. Her brother was a greedy, nasal, destructive little demon, but he was still her brother. She'd miss him more, now that she knew he was so close. Tikki willed herself not to cry, knowing that would only wake the boys up, but looking at Plagg, so peaceful in sleep, it made her sad for all the time, past, present and future, that he couldn't be that way. Protection was her nature, as much as it was Wayzz's, and she drew comfort from the fact that, at least now, he had someone he trusted to care for him.

Tikki then made one last quiet goodbye. Careful not to touch the box, aware that Plagg's curse was still in effect, Tikki phased through Adrien's mattress and hoped that Duusu could hear her whispering farewell through the cardboard. Maybe Fu would be able to help her sister, but it would be a while before they'd be able get to him now, not without risking the identities of their charges. Duusu would have to wait, though who could know how long she'd already been waiting? For all Tikki knew, Duusu had been non-responsive for decades.

Checking that her note was safely hidden in Adrien's fist, Tikki turned to the window and phased through with a shiver. It was still daylight outside, and the risk of being seen was still in the forefront of her mind, so she'd have to move quickly if she was going to get home before dark.

She was glad that Adrien fell asleep when he did. The evening air did wonders for her stress, and flying free always gave her a rush, even under the circumstances. Whipping around corners and flying parallel up walls, twisting over chimneys and dancing over rooftops: god, she missed the ease of solitude. While she wouldn't trade her siblings or Marinette for the world, sometimes a moment without someone else close by did wonders for her sanity. When someone wears your soul as jewellery, Tikki had found over the years, it becomes hard to find time alone.

Landmarks popped up easily: Mari's favourite fabric store, the café that sold the most scrumptious macarons (after Marinette's own of course) and the local independent film cinema lined her route. A few wrong turns meant a number of retraced steps here and there, but soon enough, she was zipping into the park, just as evening started to darken the sky. She let out a relieved breath, a little stress ebbing away. It wasn't far now to the bakery, in fact she could see it past the fence.

Slaloming around the trees, Tikki took a moment to look at the few people still left in the area. It always amazed her to no end, the resilience of human beings. Despite all that tragedy and all those broken things, they still smiled and laughed and played and kept on going. There was always a sense that the darkness would pass, eventually, and Tikki knew well the agony of waiting forever for something to change for the better, but humans always were so self assured that a good thing would happen, however small. She'd often heard Marinette's parents say things like 'oh, well you'll get it next time' or 'there's always another day', as if there was no doubt that something happy was going to happen, inevitably, eventually.

It was strangely inspiring.

The Parisians in the park had dwindled now that it was getting later in the day, the mid-morning sun beginning to wane, but amongst the children playing a game of miniature rounders and parents sharing a basket of picnic snacks, some teenagers walking past caught her eye. At first, she thought she was seeing things, but something told her to keep looking. She could've sworn she recognised the back of those heads. She flew closer, minding the eyeline of the picnicking family, and squinted. One of the teenagers turned around to say something to the other, their cat eye glasses' lens glinting in the dusk light.

Alya.

Tikki, as ever, couldn't believe her luck. If that was Alya, then that must be, next to her, with the dark blue pigtails, pink leggings and the glinting earrings—

Marinette.

There was Marinette.

After forever, there she was, right there, smiling faintly and walking past, around the corner, further away, and Tikki quickly realised she was missing her opportunity. Without thinking, she zoomed forward, aiming to phase into Marinette's purse without Alya seeing, and then popping out once Marinette was home. They'd reunite, there'd be tears and cookies, and they'd share what happened and why and they could both feel safe again, finally, finally, finally.

That, of course, didn't happen.

Tikki, so absorbed in her eagerness and joy, her heart fit to burst, hadn't realised how close she'd gotten to the children still playing in the park. One of them, as children playing rounders often do, pulled back the bat, in perfect timing with Tikki zooming past. Without the knowledge that it was coming, which would've naturally given her the time to phase through it, the bat cracked solidly against Tikki's head, sending her flying backwards on impact. She hit, with a sickening thunk, a large oak tree and dropped down like a stone, landing in a crumpled pile against the trunk.

As she began to black out, barely able to register anything beyond the pain, Tikki saw a last glimpse of Marinette's retreating back as she turned to walk home, her hand on her empty, Kwami-less little pink purse.