AN: This story picks up right after "Girls' Night Out."


Metal boots rang against the dark Paris streets, echoing off of the buildings around her as she dropped below the roofs of the buildings to land on the sidewalk in front of a dimly-recognized building. The yellow glow of a streetlight reflected off of the polished silver-grey armor and helmet, casting a long shadow across the street while simultaneously shining a beacon into the sky above her. Looking up and down the street anxiously, she could feel every eye in the city on her from the apartment buildings lining the street. A handful of units overlooking the street had their lights on. A curtain moved down the block. The reflection off of the top of her helmet stood out plainly on the top floor of the building across the street. She was too exposed! She had to get off the street, somewhere no one could find her. But where could she go? A part of her longed to return… but she couldn't go back – not now. All she could do was run.

Tears clouding her vision, she sprinted down the street as fast as her enhanced strength and speed would allow. Her metal joints creaked, far too loud for the silent neighborhood. Every moment, she could almost hear the sound of shouting, of jetpacks roaring overhead. The joints of her neck creaked as she turned her head to check the roofline above her, waiting for the yo-yo to flick down at her and hold her in place. Earlier, the game of tag had been a way to make "training" fun; now it had become deathly serious. She had to stay away! But even in a city of 10 million people, how could she hope to elude them? When would they find her? What would they do to her when they did catch her? The only way to escape those questions was to stay one step ahead. Leaning forward, she pushed herself to run faster, faster than she ever would have thought possible, laden down as she was in heavy armor. Her footsteps clattered along the pavement, reverberating off the brick-walled buildings on either side of her – if anyone was looking for her, the echoes would lead them straight to her. Should she detransform so she could move more quietly? No; nothing mattered right now except speed. All she could do was put as much distance between herself and the Eiffel Tower as possible. No other plans were available.

She didn't know how far she had run before the stitch in her side flared up and she finally had to slow down, sagging against an apartment building, gracing herself on one of the pillars holding up the entryway. None of the buildings nearby even looked remotely familiar – surely she must have left the inner arrondissements behind by now. Clutching her chest through the armor, she tried desperately to draw in a deep breath, stretching her side and glancing back the way she had come. Still the streets remained quiet, lit intermittently by streetlamps that left large swaths of the sidewalks dark, including where she stood. Yet as she inhaled, suddenly the magnitude of her predicament rushed back to the forefront of her mind. A choked sob rattled through the helmet, and she collapsed to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest and leaning back against the building's stoop. All her frustration and shame from the night poured out of her, even as she tried to muffle her cries with one gauntleted hand. Everything had gone wrong tonight… and she still didn't even understand how! How had she fallen so far, so fast? What had she done to deserve this? She had tried so hard, and until… maybe five minutes ago, she had thought she had achieved everything she wanted. She had been a hero – one of the Heroes of Paris. She had fought with them in Germany, in Paris, in Angola and Tarascon. She had accompanied the Knight and Valkyrie to Pamplona. She had been a hero… but no longer. That was the only thing to stand out clearly in her mind now.

She had betrayed everyone and everything! All her friends had to hate her now! In February, she had leapt at the opportunity to become powerful, to be a hero, the moment it had been presented to her. Even though it had seemed perhaps too good to be true – why would anyone trust her with this kind of power? – she hadn't stopped to question it. No; she had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker. She had thought that she was asserting herself, that she was taking back some measure of the control that had been stolen from her in the fall… but it had all been a lie. She had just been a pawn for a madman – and for the second time in less than a year!

Had she brought this on herself?

Sniffling, swallowing back her tears, the Lancer pushed herself along the stoop, back behind the row of bushes lining the streetside façade of the apartment building until her legs were hidden from view behind the foliage. Carefully, she started edging along the wall away from the front door. Not more than a dozen meters away, she could just barely make out a small gap between this building and the next, covered in deep shadow and barely large enough for two people to stand abreast; she could rest in there and try to think. And yet, with every shift of her weight, every movement, the loud rattling of her armor echoed up. At intervals, she glanced up at the apartment windows above her, waiting for a light to come on inside, for someone to look outside and spot her. She froze, hardly daring to breathe, on hearing a rattling noise from the gap between the buildings, only to relax when a stray cat raced out, hissing angrily. Finally, she sat just on the edge of the alley, looking into the darkness nervously.

The empty alley stared back at her silently until finally, slowly, she slid around the corner and disappeared into the shadow.

The Lancer exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the brick a thought, the magic that had surrounded her dissipated, taking with it her armor and leaving her holding the pen in her hand, sitting surrounded by garbage and refuse, huddled between two trashcans. Her eyes straining against the darkness, Aurore looked down at the blouse and skirt she had chosen for the bachelorette party – both had been a gift from Marinette, right after they returned from Tarascon. Tiny green Lazarist crosses decorated the blouse's neckline and the bottom hem of the skirt, matching the fleur de lis pattern in the center of the blouse perfectly. It was a new design, one that Marinette had started before the Tarasque, a "Marinette original" that no one else would ever have. The guilt surged back to the forefront. Although she and Marinette had never been close, Marinette had welcomed her in… and she had repaid her with this.

A high-pitched whine reached her ear from somewhere behind her, moments before a streak of orange light shot past the alleyway above her, moving roughly north. Aurore clamped her mouth shut, holding her breath until the light was out of sight and the jetpack's roar had faded away. Cocking her head, she listened for the soft footfalls on the roof above her, for jetpack noises. Cautiously, she glanced back toward the street, waiting with bated breath for one of Max's drones to appear. Her breathing hitched: they could track her with her phone! Quickly, she pulled the device out of her purse, nearly dropping it as she did so, and hit the button to shut it down, scanning the skies as she waited for it to turn off. Only when the screen had gone black did she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. They wouldn't track her that way. Her stomach clenched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, hugging her knees while trying and failing to hold back the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks.

How had she been so stupid, to let this happen?

When Loubet had given her the lance, she had taken it as a godsend, as an opportunity to do some good and make things right, to prevent other people from suffering the way that she had suffered. No longer would she be weak and helpless, victimized by that bastard who had preyed on her, taking advantage of her shame, weakness, and insecurities. Instead, she was now strong. She could protect herself, along with all those other vulnerable girls.

And in the end, she had been welcomed by the Heroes of Paris! After Germany, she had been part of the group. She had been a valued member of the team. Not only that, but they had trusted her with so many of their secrets – the location of their Headquarters, their identities, how they operated… And she had betrayed them.

"No," she whispered, her voice sounding weak and hoarse from weeping. "I didn't betray anyone – or–or at least not because I wanted to do it." They had used her. M. Loubet had given her the lance and pointed her in a direction, because he wanted whatever information she might gather. And he had gotten it: in retrospect, the failed sting last week was proof enough of that. But she hadn't told them everything. She hadn't told them who Ladybug and Cat Noir were, or where their headquarters was, or… any of that. But M. Loubet had asked. She clenched her jaw. That should have been warning enough that something wasn't right. But she had been too wrapped up in the excitement of it all to even consider second guessing herself about his intentions. He had set her up to become one of the Heroes of Paris, after all! But now she was on the run from the Heroes of Paris.

Did Ladybug think that she had betrayed them? Aurore swallowed anxiously, scanning both ends of the alley before glancing up at the dark sky above. No silhouettes were visible above her of the other heroes out searching; no footfalls echoed down the street to signal pursuit. No drones appeared hovering down the street. The sound of the jetpack she had seen had faded off toward the north. No one was coming after her – or at least not yet. Aurore let out a breath. They were going to come for her, though – she knew who Ladybug and Cat Noir were; of course they would come after her. They had to protect their secrets. Would they believe that she hadn't told? Would they believe that she hadn't known who she was working for?

"Marinette knows me," she insisted, though without conviction. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "She would–"

But would she? Her voice trailed off, her throat closing. Marinette had always despised liars – how she had managed to keep her identity secret for so long was still a mystery. Would she really be willing to forgive Aurore for having deceived her, knowingly or not? Although Aurore's heart wanted to believe it, her head could not. She swallowed back bile, clenching her jaw. She needed to hide from the Heroes of Paris – at least until she could clear her name. But she needed to hide from Killer Bee, too! Killer Bee had known who she was; why wouldn't she come after her too? And with everything that she knew… She needed to find somewhere to stay, somewhere that no one would expect her to go. She couldn't go to her parents. She couldn't go to the apartment she shared with Mireille – they would look for her either of those places. None of her friends would be safe for her – the Lynchpin could be watching any of them. Her eyes widened in horror at the realization, and she nearly threw up. That meant she couldn't go to her job at the TVi station, either! Even there, they could find her! But how would she explain this to her boss? She would get fired from her internship and blacklisted for sure if she didn't show up! Her life was going to be over before it even started! She could feel bile rising in her throat. But no: she couldn't risk it. Keeping herself safe and eluding the Lynchpin had to be her priority.

But for how long? When would this end?

"It'll all be okay," she murmured, sniffling back tears. "I'll–I'll–" She let out a breath, her gaze hardening as she rose to her feet. Only one person was to blame for this predicament – and he was her key to fixing this. Her mouth set in a thin line. "I'll take down Loubet."