Leafing through the well-worn book, Marc leaned in a little closer, trying to decipher the scratchy writing. "Is that an 'E' or an 'F'?" he asked, holding it out to Nath.

Nath pursed his lips, his brows furrowed. "It doesn't make much sense with an 'F'," he pointed out wryly.

"Fair point." Marc shook his head, reading the entry for the third time. "This is something I've never actually thought about before: how do they make the choice?"

Nath shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I suppose he chose wisely."

Dover, July 1940

"Please, everyone! Keep moving in an orderly line – don't stop for anything! Step to one side of the gangplank if you absolutely need to rest! We need to get everyone off the transport as quickly as possible!"

Fu tightened his grip on his suitcase, adjusting the strap of his overstuffed bag as he did so. The victrola bell jostled uncomfortably against his shoulder, bumping the side of his head. He had gotten several strange looks from the other refugees as they waited for the boat in Brest, but he had simply kept his head down and held the bag close. He had considered abandoning the victrola itself in France – under the circumstances, it was far more noticeable than the box itself would be. But after the time and care he had put into crafting the victrola and its hidden compartment, he was loath to part with it.

Especially when he had already lost so much.

For over a hundred years, ever since the destruction of the Temple, he had kept the Miracle Box safe from all those who would have taken it and misused the power it contained for their own purposes. In that time, countless wars had broken out, countless dictators had risen to power, countless men and women had sought to amass power and strength. Every time, he had managed to stay one step ahead of anyone who would take the victrola from him. Almost every time, he had been able to hide its very existence from those who would try to take it from him.

Under other circumstances, perhaps a Guardian could have appointed miraculous holders to combat those dictators, to protect the innocent and to ensure that evil use of power was balanced out by good. But he was only a single man – if he were discovered, if he were to die, if he were to make a mistake, then everything his had done for the last century to keep the memory and legacy of the temple alive, all of it would have been for naught. While he had given out miraculous a handful of times over the last hundred years, each time he had watched like a hawk as his chosen holders carried out their mission before reclaiming the miraculous as soon as the moment it was over. But working alone, it was such a risk. In all his years on the run, he had only truly put his full trust in one person to know everything. If too many people found out about the miraculous, it would only compound the danger.

Over the years, he had become an expert at escaping from his pursuers. But this was the first time he had cut it so close. The first time he knew for certain that he might have been discovered. The first time he had been forced to leave behind someone he loved.

"Marianne…" he sighed, looking down at the gangplank as he stepped off the rickety fishing vessel and onto the English shore for only the second time in his life. "Will I ever see you again, my love?"

She had not been afraid – that was the trait that had first drawn him to her. So fearless, regardless of the dangers they faced. She had accepted his story, his failure, so graciously when he finally admitted it to her, willingly bearing the burden of the story and of the miraculous along with him. At the outbreak of the War, she had sought to do what she could for the refugees pouring into the city – hardly realizing that he would soon become one of those refugees. When the Nazis had arrived in Paris, she had been ready to fight, to protect her country from them. She had asked him to stay… but he had not. He needed to protect the miraculous. In the end, they had parted ways, with her leading the Germans away to buy him time.

That was the last he'd seen of her: the Germans' spotlights illuminating her as he fled along the Seine.

"Sir, please keep moving!" A young man in an old patched suitcoat, a cab driver's hat on his head, placed a hand on Fu's shoulder. "I'm afraid we don't have time for dawdling. This boat needs to pull away from the dock as soon as possible so the next one can get in and unload. There are so many more refugees that we need to see to."

"Y–yes," Fu stuttered, looking up at him in surprise. A Guardian could not allow himself to be distracted by personal matters! "Of course. Thank you, Monsieur…"

"Caine," the young man told him. "Edmund Caine." He frowned, looking Fu down. "Those look heavy. Here, let me help you," he offered, gesturing toward the bag with the victrola.

Fu flinched. "I will hold onto this one if you don't mind," he responded, before reluctantly passing the man his suitcase. "But you can carry this for me, if you wish to be helpful."

"Certainly," Edmund agreed, taking the suitcase and leading him up a set of stairs from the docks to the street level. "Just up this way – the first stop will be the medical station."

"Oh, very well." Fu sighed, looking back down toward the flotilla of boats that had brought the last of the refugees across the channel. Hundreds and thousands of people had been packed into the area around the docks when he had arrived at Brest – far more than he could possibly have expected. Some had left, seeing the enormous number, saying that they would go south to the Free Zone around Vichy. As boat after boat left port, laden with so many refugees that they threatened to capsize, Fu had been tempted to go south, as well. But with the Nazis in control of France, would the miraculous be safe anywhere in France?

England, it was.

"Are you in charge of this evacuation, M. Caine?" Fu focused his attention on his escort, following him up the stairs as quickly as he could until they reached the street level. A group of young nurses stood behind a row of tables placed along the sidewalk, checking some of the refugees' injuries.

"Who, me?" Edmund laughed. "No; just came down here to do my bit for the war effort," he replied. "Not much one person can do by themselves, but every bit helps, right? Better together and all that."

"Right…" Fu hummed, nodding pensively to himself. That was what Marianne had wanted: to use the miraculous to fight back against the Nazis – for the two of them to become Coccinelle and Hēi Māo for real, as they had always imagined. To do their part for the war effort. That was the bravery, the fierceness, he loved so much in her. It didn't matter that the Nazis had conquered France in a matter of weeks, Marianne refused to give up. Even now, after the capitulation, even without the miraculous, she was still back in Paris, trying to fight back against the Nazis, to keep them from conquering her country. To keep them from following him to England and capturing the Miracle Box.

But how had the Nazis found out about it in the first place?

Fu's stomach clenched, and he reached down to rub his bracelet. Marianne was the only person who knew the full story about the miraculous. Aside from her, his Australian pen pal knew bits and pieces of the story – she knew that he had miraculous in his care, but very little about the Temple or the specific miraculous he had. Who else even knew about miraculous?

"Excuse me, sir." A young dark-haired woman in a white nurse's uniform, her cap creased and smudged, held her hand out in front of Fu. "E–everyone needs to be checked."

"I'm sure that is unnecessary," Fu retorted shortly, making to step past her. Beside him, Edmund shook his head, giving Fu a pointed look. Fu frowned. "I assure you, miss, I am in perfect health."

"I'm sure you are, but it's policy for all newly-arrived refugees. I promise it won't take but a minute." The young woman gave him a look and raised an eyebrow expectantly. Sighing, Fu nodded reluctantly. Without waiting for more of a response, she placed a hand on his forehead, studied his eyes carefully, and checked his throat. "No fever, pupils responsive, no obvious illness… You are good to go." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless you are trying to fool me."

"Would there be any penalty if I were?" asked Fu.

She shrugged. "Not really. We're taking in anyone – at least so long as they're not Nazis." She shook her head, letting out a breath. "A couple of them tried to fool us, you know. Early on in the evacuation. They were trying to infiltrate the country, trying to get information about our coastal defenses – at least according to the Telegraph. And they came right through Dover!" She frowned. "What I wouldn't give to be able to spot those sorts coming, to see through that sort of falsehood."

"That would be rather useful, wouldn't it?" Fu eyed her carefully. "But what would you do if you had that ability?"

She shrugged. "Do what I can to keep those German spies at bay, I suppose." She glanced behind him at the growing line. "But you are all set now, sir."

He hummed. "Thank you, Nurse…?"

"Renee."

"Are you ready, sir?" asked Edmund, nudging Fu in the direction of the train station just visible on the outskirts of town, a four-block walk from the docks. "They're sending the refugees out into the country for now – that way you're not in the way here, you see. At least for now. While they sort out the rest of the refugees. But hopefully, once you've had a chance to settle into England, you'll be able to help us in some way? We're all in this together, after all."

Fu hummed pensively. They really were in this together, weren't they? He could run for as long as he wanted to, but if no one actually stood up and stopped the Nazis, they would just follow him to the ends of the earth and catch him there. While if he took a stand, here and now in England, then perhaps the Nazis could be stopped, could be defeated before they could truly threaten the miraculous. "You know," he mused, looking back and forth between Edmund and Renee, "I may be able to find a way to help you now."

"I'm sorry?" Edmund furrowed his brows, cocking his head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"Please, follow me." Without hesitating, Fu turned on his heel, away from the crowded docks.

Renee's eyes widened nervously, and she glanced back and forth between Fu and Edmund. "A–are we going… far?"

"Just somewhere private. I would prefer not to explain myself in front of an audience." Fu promptly turned and strode away from the docks, looking around for a quiet spot. He sensed more than heard his two chosen holders following after him, Renee with more hesitation than Edmund. But he couldn't slow down, even just to explain his plan – if he stopped and thought for too long, he might convince himself not to follow through. Finally, he found an alley and stepped inside it, looking back to find Edmund and Renee, watching him from the sidewalk just outside the alley with some confusion. Carefully, Fu removed the victrola from his bag and set it on the ground, keying in the combination. "I must apologize for the rush," he told them, not taking his eyes off his work. "And for the enigmatic request. Normally I would not show you so much all at once – or any of this, in fact. But under the circumstances…" Renee gasped in surprise as the victrola opened. Fu hummed, rotating the Miracle Box, his hand hovering over a couple of the drawers. He paused at the top, eyeing the yin-yang symbol. The Ladybug and Cat were easily the most powerful in his set – but were they the right ones for this war? Creation and Destruction… A tempting prospect. But no; he could not play his most powerful cards right away, not when he only knew that they faced a German Army without superpowers of its own. If the Ladybug and Cat fell into the hands of the Nazis, he would have handed them the tools of his own destruction. And he would have left Marianne behind for no purpose. The Ox? Strength could prove useful. But under the circumstances, it was not the most useful– "Aha."

"What are you doing, sir?" Edmund asked curiously.

Fu sighed warily, removing two wooden boxes from the larger Miracle Box, standing up, and holding one box out to each of them. "Edmund, Renee, these are the Miraculous of the Dog and the Fox. You will use them to protect your country, to stop these terrible Nazis, and to preserve balance in the universe. After this war has been concluded, you will return these to me for safekeeping. Will you accept this responsibility?"