A/N: Time to see Marinette's side of things.

Marinette had only allowed herself fifteen minutes of breaking down after Adrien left.

Destroyed. She was wholly and utterly destroyed. Heaving sobs wracked her body, stifled behind hands pressed firmly against her mouth. She felt her cheeks grow warm and wet with tears.

He loved her. He said it out loud. He loved her.

For once, everything in her life up to this point made sense. All the fragments slid into place, actions and moments and decisions that all led up to their meeting, their friendship, their love, their fall.

Everything she could have ever wanted was across the hall.

Her hand forced, she had set it all ablaze, and all she could do was watch it burn.

Slowly, gradually, she began to piece herself back together. Her sobs softened into whimpers. Her red-rimmed eyes blinked back unshed tears. She uncurled herself from her crumpled position on the floor, rolling back her shoulders and straightening her spine.

Marinette was many things. At that moment, she was devastated, petrified, and confused. But she was not weak, and she was not complacent. And she was never, ever someone to lie down and take it when another person tried to control her life.

She did not have the luxury to wallow in her heartbreak. Her character and her strength simply didn't allow it.

After three shaky, steadying breaths, Marinette calmly rose to her feet, walked to her desk, and opened her laptop. Within minutes, she had developed a plan.

Embracing self-pity and fear would accomplish nothing. If she wanted to rid herself of this danger and relieve Adrien of the pain she had inflicted on him, she needed to take care of this problem herself.

She pulled up her hair into a bun, setting her jaw. Alright, Marinette. Let's end this now.

The first step was to look up the stalker's phone number and scour for any information she could about the caller. That ended up being a bust- once she finally tracked down the number, it was revealed to be a public payphone several streets over. Marinette cursed under her breath, tapping her fingers on her desk in irritation.

She then pulled up the footage from the security camera that had been installed on her front door. After playing their phone conversation over and over again in her mind, Marinette had realized the man slipped up in their call. He confessed that he had attempted to unlock her front door with her old key, so there was a chance she caught him on camera. If she could just find the moment he had approached, she could finally see his face.

It was a daunting task. She scarcely allowed herself to blink as she monitored the video, set to an ungodly speed to allow her to watch it all as quickly as possible. Her back and neck grew stiff, her eyes glazing over from staring at the screen for so long.

After hours (yes, hours) of combing through footage, the morning light slipping into an early afternoon haze, she had come up short once again. The only useful piece of information she found was a brief period where her camera had gone to static, only to straighten itself out again after a handful of minutes.

"Camera jammer," she muttered under her breath, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She played the segment over and over again, flitting her eyes desperately across her screen for any scrap of information she could scrounge up.

Nothing. She saw nothing. Video surveillance would be useless to her, then, if he had access to such a high-tech camera jammer.

She resisted the urge to throw her laptop across the room and scream.

This guy was good. He most definitely had done this before.

The women before her… what happened to them?

The thought made Marinette sick enough that she had to take a breather, resting her head between her knees while she took slow, cooling breaths.

She couldn't find any information about the man. Fine. She was left with no other choice than to trap him instead.

So Marinette pivoted over to Plan B.

Forcing her to push Adrien out of her life was a clear indicator that he was planning on striking soon. As frequently as they'd been hanging out, the stalker's best chance of catching her alone was separating him from her. Paired with the way he kept alluding to their "fated meeting" on their phone call, Marinette was convinced that he would attempt to make in-person contact within the next few days.

Add in the fact that he had tried to break into her apartment before, she could only guess he'd try again. And having watched her and monitored her schedule, he knew she'd be sitting at home alone the next morning.

Therefore, she summarized, a sickening chill crawling down her spine, he was going to try and meet her tomorrow. He would break into her apartment, hoping to find her alone and unguarded. And then he would…

No. He wouldn't.

Because she would be ready for him.

She shot out a brief (and rather cryptic, she would admit) text to her friend Max. Rather than question why she needed the names and images of all the residents and employees in her apartment complex, he responded that it was "mere child's play" to accomplish and that "Markov and I will send it over after work, no problem."

With that taken care of, Marinette shut her laptop and grabbed her notebook, furiously scribbling down her list.

Bananas.

Grapefruit.

Eggs.

Yogurt.

Bread.

Almond flour- with a note scrawled beside it reminding her to ask Alya how many macarons she wanted Marinette to bake for her party that night.

After jotting down various other items, Marinette set the list down on her kitchen counter, out in plain view. Satisfied, she stepped over to her fully stocked refrigerator and began throwing her groceries, purchased the day before, into the trash.

A random spectator might look at this scene and think Marinette has completely lost her mind.

For Marinette, master of convoluted plans, it was simple.

The man would enter her apartment- how, she didn't know yet, but she wouldn't underestimate him- and believe her to be in there, alone. Instead of finding a startled and solitary Marinette, however, he would stumble into an empty apartment.

This might throw him off. His goal, she could only assume, was to grab her while she was isolated, either by force or by (she cringed at the thought) seduction, and flee the scene as quickly as possible. Her absence from her apartment would throw a wrench in his plans.

He'd snoop around, no doubt. Who knows what he would go looking for, how far he'd go to violate her privacy. Considering the filthiness of his letter, she doubted he'd show much restraint given the opportunity to explore her apartment.

Bile stung her throat. She swallowed it back down.

Then the grocery list would catch his eye. Her note about baking macarons would indicate that the grocery list was made for a trip she planned on making that same day. If he looked around her kitchen, her empty refrigerator would reinforce that. Knowing her schedule as well as he did, the stalker would also be aware that her only free time to get groceries and bake macarons for the supposed event would be that morning.

Therefore, he would be led to believe that she had left to go grocery shopping but forgotten her list, and would either head back to her apartment to grab it or try and complete the trip without it.

Why does any of this matter? One might ask.

Marinette grinned to herself as she thought through her plan.

It was all about timing. Timing was everything.

The stalker would hope that Marinette would be back momentarily, perhaps having just left her apartment and realizing she left behind her list. That would mean less risk- only five or so minutes of waiting out at her apartment before she arrived.

But as time passed, he might think she had tried to complete her shopping without it, which would mean she would be arriving later than expected. At that point, while he might be on edge and fear getting caught the longer he waited out, he'd be invested. Why waste all that time and planning when she could be waltzing back into her apartment at any minute? He'd stay.

That worked in Marinette's favor. The longer he lingered, the better.

Why rely on just a grocery list? Why not write out that you have errands to run in big, bold letters on a calendar for him to find? Why not leave behind something like your wallet or phone, something he'd know for sure you'd run back for?

I'm glad you asked, hypothetical person, Marinette thought to herself.

The stalker, as much as she loathed to give him any sort of accolades, was not to be underestimated. He was smart. If she were too obvious about it, he'd get suspicious, realizing she had left a trail of crumbs for him to blindly follow. This was just subtle enough that he'd think he'd used his masterful power of observation to conclude her whereabouts. While he prided himself on his genius, she'd be across the street, ready to call the police and spring the trap.

This was the final part of her plan- the trickiest and most potentially dangerous element. She would monitor everyone who entered and exited her apartment building from a coffee shop across the street.

This would require slipping out of her apartment undetected by her stalker. A risky choice, but a necessary one.

Marinette wrung her hands together, willing her stuttering heart to steady itself.

She'd figure it out. She had to.

While across the street, she'd make note of every single person who filtered in and out of the building. Max's less-than-legal procurement of the list of residents and employees would aid this process, allowing her to identify anyone who wasn't typically in the building. From there, she prayed a combination of wit, research, observance, and intuition would help her identify her stalker, or at least begin a list of potential suspects.

That wasn't to say she had completely written off those who lived in her building. But she doubted the stalker would have been so patient if they were in such close proximity to her this whole time. The man on the other end of the phone… hadn't exactly sounded patient.

She shuddered. Don't worry. If all goes well, you won't have to face him.

If someone entered her building raised enough alarm bells, she'd call the police and have them check her apartment for suspected breaking and entering. The longer the man lingered, the better chance she had at catching him in the act. If they showed up and he was in there, then he'd finally be arrested and everything could go back to normal. If it was a bad call, no harm done.

But he had to show up. It had to work. It had to.

She needed this resolved now.

Marinette glanced at the time. It was already crawling towards night.

Adrenaline pulsed through her veins. Pulling up the list Max had compiled and shooting him a quick "thank-you" email, Marinette began to scan the list of faces and names. It was her best shot at identifying any strangers.

By 9:30 the next morning, Marinette could have recited all the names and perfectly described all the faces as easily as she could the members of her own family.

Exhaustion had not weighed her down the way it typically did, leaving her bleary-eyed and sluggish. Instead, it had left her shaky, breathless.

That also could have been the six cups of coffee she had consumed over the course of the night and early morning. Was it six? She had lost count.

Sometime around 5:00 AM, Marinette had slipped out of her apartment, praying that even stalkers needed sleep like the rest of the world. Considering she was no early bird, she was betting that he wouldn't bother monitoring her movements until later in the day.

But if he had decided to get up early and peep in her windows… well, at least she was in a public space. If he tried to grab her, she'd scream bloody murder.

Marinette shuddered, taking a small sip of her… 7th? 12th? Cup of coffee.

Needless to say, she hadn't slept that night.

She tugged the brim of her baseball cap further down as she continued to spy out the window of the coffee shop. Her "disguise" was by no means expert- she had tucked her hair up in the cap and donned a nondescript hoodie she rarely wore- but it seemed to do the trick. No one paid attention to her. An old friend who frequented the coffee shop slipped right by her without noticing, which felt like a win.

Her fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on her table, her eyes daring a glance away from her apartment complex to see the notes she had written so far.

There was a man in his early 30s, a non-resident, who felt out of place, but he hadn't lingered inside for long. Probably not her guy.

Another man had gone inside with a woman Marinette had recognized as a newer resident, holding her arm and laughing. Most likely a normal couple, but she was wary. It made sense that her stalker would try and use another resident to get to her. If he had no issue threatening Adrien's life so flippantly…

Her grip on her knees tightened until it was painful.

There was also a woman who had left that morning in a lavender suit with gold pumps. She wasn't suspicious at all. Marinette just liked her outfit.

She sighed, training her eyes back onto her building.

Everyone seemed so normal and mundane and inconspicuous.

Was she missing something? Was she wrong, and he wasn't coming at all?

Marinette took another sip of her lukewarm coffee, her mind racing. She wasn't about to give up. Even if she had it all wrong, she had to stick it out today.

Minutes ticked by slowly. Her eyes glazed over as she took in the next few people filtering in and out of her building.

An elderly woman took her poodle out for a walk.

One of her downstairs neighbors walked in, still wearing his uniform from his night shift.

A maintenance man approached the doors, absently texting on his cell.

She blinked.

Who was that?

In an instant she had pulled Max's list up on her phone, scrolling rapidly to the images of the maintenance team.

The guy, who had just slipped inside, wore his dark brown hair up in a bun. He was maybe in his late 20s, reasonably attractive, and also was nowhere to be found on the list.

Marinette's heart started pounding. She pinched her arm, the pain breaking through her panic.

Okay, chill out, Marinette. He could just be new. Let's think things through before we jump straight to calling the police.

She fumbled for her notebook, furiously jotting down every detail while the image of the man was fresh in her mind.

In addition to his age and how he styled his hair, she noted that his demeanor seemed at ease, he wore the maintenance company's logo on his T-shirt, and he walked relatively slowly towards the building.

Marinette frowned at the writing in front of her. All signs pointed to innocence, and yet…

She glanced back down at her screen. Sure enough, the T-shirt he wore bore the same logo as a couple of the other maintenance men in their ID photos. If he was new, he may not be in the system yet. Or maybe he was typically assigned other buildings and was covering for a coworker.

But even still… she squinted closer at the images. Compared it to the one in her brain.

And then the glaring difference was thrown into her mind as violently as a jumpscare.

The man wasn't carrying any tools. In the IDs, the other workers wore tool belts. What kind of maintenance man didn't have any tools?

Her heart was thudding in her chest, and this time, she doubted it was because of the caffeine.

With shaking fingers, Marinette tapped out of Max's list and pulled up her keypad, poised to call the police.

This was her guy. She knew it.

For a split second, all the nerves and the dread and the panic was washed away, replaced with a heavy sense of exhaustion. It was all going to be okay. It would be over soon. She could rest, leave this all behind her, finally confess the truth…

A flash in front of her building momentarily stole her attention.

And then held it.

Adrien.

Marinette felt a painful twist in her heart at the sight of him. Even as exhausted and bedraggled as he looked- more than likely because of her, she thought remorsefully- he was still beautiful.

What is he doing here? Phone now ignored, she leaned closer to the window, her breath fogging the glass. He should have been in class by now, far away and safe from the scene that was about to occur just across the hall. If that man had run into him… Oh God. What would have happened?

But he's about to leave, she assured herself, banishing all morbid thoughts to the back of her mind. He's leaving. He'll be safe. And when he gets back, I can finally tell him everything.

As she continued to watch him, that pain in her heart settled deep into her stomach, her whole body aching with nerves.

Adrien didn't look like someone who was off to a regular day of classes.

He was glaring down at a piece of paper, eyebrows furrowed. Marinette stared in rapt attention as his expression morphed from confusion to bewilderment to horror, a fear so potent and wild in his face that she couldn't suppress a soft gasp at the sight.

And then he was sprinting back into the building.

In an instant, she was on her feet. Ignoring the startled looks from the other customers, she burst out of the coffee shop, screaming his name.

"ADRIEN! ADRIEN, WAIT!"

He was already gone.

Marinette's heart was pounding uncontrollably, her breaths coming in shaky gasps.

Adrien knew. He knew she was lying about the stalker and his threats. She had no idea how he figured it out, but nothing else would have set him off like that. That stupid, stupid boy and his lack of self-preservation when it came to the people he loved.

Which meant he was running towards her. Or where he thought she would be.

But instead of her, he'd find the very man who threatened to shoot him on sight and oh my God she had to stop it-

Next thing she knew she was sprinting into the street. A cab driver slammed his horn as he skidded to a stop less than a foot away from her, but she didn't slow her pace. As she ran she frantically fumbled for her phone, hoping she could at least alert the police before hurling herself in harms way.

She had only typed the number 9 before her phone screen blinked to black.

Dead. She forgot to grab a charger.

Marinette choked out a sob of frustration, but didn't hesitate as she slammed into the double doors, bursting into the building.

She couldn't stop to find another phone. Not when Adrien could be moments away from getting killed.

Stupid Marinette that was so STUPID-

"ADRIEN!"

The lobby was empty. He was faster than her, and he had a headstart.

Not bothering with the elevator, she began sprinting up to the top floor, her legs burning.

With every step, she prayed he was okay, that she was delusional, that the maintenance man was just a maintenance man-

She spilled into the hallway, stumbling and righting herself as she hurtled towards her door.

It was already open. Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

Someone was definitely in there.

But even still, she didn't hesitate.

She ran in.