To Guest: She most definitely needs to apologize to the New Atlantis Council… but she's not thinking entirely straight at the moment. They're not going to trust the Lynchpin, either at the moment – for now they are just going to the Heroes of Europe, Americans, and Africans.

Claude knelt in front of the simple grave marker, tracing his fingers over the lines: "Béatrice Marceau." He hadn't been able to afford anything more last year; he wouldn't have been able to afford anything last year, were it not for fate intervening. When Night Bat had arrived to offer him both the Dinosaur and his chance for revenge, Claude had only requested one thing in return. The Lynchpin had paid for the burial, and Claude had turned his back on his old life entirely. He ran his fingers through the short grass growing on the grave. A small spray of flowers rested against the headstone. Béa's parents must have come to visit on the anniversary. Claude sniffed, holding back a sob, grabbing a fistful of the grass – a couple blades ripped off in his hand, and he released them to be caught by the light breeze. He had wanted to come on the anniversary of Béa's death, so badly, but Night Bat had reminded him that it was dangerous for him to be out. If the Heroes of Paris were to see him, they could attack, do to him what they had done to Béa. And then he would lose the miraculous, lose his opportunity to avenge his beloved. He clenched his fist. The Heroes of Paris: unconcerned about the innocents they killed but willing to do anything to stop someone who would stand up to them. So instead of visiting his wife's grave, he had spent that day up north, overseeing Andretti's warehouse in Le Havre in case the police took an interest in it. The Heroes of Paris and their toadies in the police couldn't leave them alone, and as a result they had cost him the anniversary of his wife's death.

They had cost him so much over the last year…

His gut churned, and he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Béa," he whispered, his eyes clenched shut to hold back the tears. "I wasn't good enough. I didn't deserve you – Y–you deserved so much better than me…" He sniffled. "You were the best thing in my life. I just didn't realize it until too late."

His shoulders fell as he slowly pushed himself up to his feet, looking up and down the cemetery row in either direction. The sun was only just starting to peek above the horizon. Very few cars were on the street that ran past the cemetery, reducing the ambient noise almost to zero. The grass, wet as it was with dew, sparkled in the sunlight. He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching a pair of early-morning joggers pass the cemetery without looking at him. But for all that, he was practically alone with his own thoughts.

But not entirely alone.

Rexx patted Claude's hand consolingly before sticking his head out of his pocket. "I am sorry for your loss. I… I know what it is to lose those close to you."

Claude sighed heavily, working his jaw slowly. "Thanks," he finally replied, turning back to face the grave. He stared down at it, burning the image into his mind. Rexx rose further out of his pocket, joining Claude in looking at the grave. They stood in that position, not speaking, for several minutes before Claude finally broke the silence. "You were talking about your previous holders, weren't you?" Rexx nodded. "So tell me about some of them. You never talk about them."

Rexx shrugged. "Not much to tell," he squeaked. "My previous holder and I had had a great relationship, ever since he had received my miraculous. He is strong but compassionate – has have been most of my holders. Before now I have almost always been with one of the strongest holders, someone who would use my power to protect the weak, to fight off whatever enemies might arise to abuse their power and lord over those under them. My holders quaked apart cities when they oppressed the poor. They swept villains away like leaves on the wind. They consumed the worst offenders with lava, sending them down into the fiery pits of the earth. They could even cut off a peninsula to protect the mainland from their debauchery."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think that Nature made such distinctions."

Rexx chuckled. "Nature may not, but a Kwami of Nature can," he informed him. "And the same is true for you, Tyran-X. Every miraculous holder is faced with a choice: you can fight to protect, or you can fight to hurt."

Claude frowned. "I thought I was protecting," he pointed out sullenly. "The Heroes of Paris were the ones who hurt."

Rexx opened his mouth to respond, but froze, eyes wide, on hearing the sound of footsteps on the path behind them. Claude quickly beckoned Rexx back into his pocket and, with the Kwami hidden, turned around to find two young women walking hand-in-hand down the row of headstones from the direction of the cemetery's entrance. One wore bright pink with short blonde hair; the other appeared almost the polar opposite, wearing dark clothing and with a purple highlight streak in her long raven hair. Claude stepped back next to the headstone a row down from Béa's to let them pass, watching them carefully. They paused, standing in front of Béatrice's grave, and Black put her hand on Blonde's shoulder, pulling her closer. Blonde rested her head on Raven's shoulder, sniffling.

"We don't have to stay if you don't want," Raven told her, so softly that Claude almost missed it.

Blonde shook her head, her shoulders hunched. "No – I needed to come." Hesitantly, she knelt in the grass, Raven's hand still on her shoulder, and placed a bouquet of flowers on the headstone, replacing the previous bouquet. Claude cocked his head in surprise.

"This is a really nice cemetery," Raven observed, looking around. "Nice and quiet." Her eyes settled on Claude, standing dumbly behind them, and she gave him a calculating look. Claude stared back. He could swear that he had never seen either of these women before. But something about Raven's eyes looked… familiar…

Blonde nodded slowly. "I'm glad. It's…" She let out a breath. "She deserves peace. They both do."

Claude furrowed his brows and stepped forward. Raven raised an eyebrow. Claude cleared his throat. "I'm sorry… did you–did you know Béa?"

Still kneeling in front of the grave, Blonde turned to look at him, her eyes downcast. She shook her head. "Not really," she admitted. "Or at least… not when she was alive." Raven squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, pulling her closer, and Blonde covered Raven's hand with her own. She swallowed. "But I wish I had. I've gotten to know her a little better in the last year… it sounds like she was a sweet woman."

Claude nodded. "She was." His jaw clenched. "Until she was taken away from us."

Blonde nodded sadly. "I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose someone you love so much." Her eyes drifted up to Raven, and she rested her head against Raven's waist. Raven started running her fingers through her hair, not taking her eyes off of Claude. Blonde focused back on Claude, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "How did it happen?"

Claude pursed his lips, turning away from them and glaring down at the ground. "She was coming home, when she got caught up in a fight with the Heroes of Paris," he answered bitterly. "And they killed her." He let out a breath, jutting out his jaw. Aside from Night Bat and the others, he had never really spoken of this to anyone. He sighed. "Everyone thinks of the Heroes of Paris as these great heroes who fight for the little guy and help people, but they really aren't – or not all the time. My wife was the best person I've ever known. She was innocent – just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And now she's dead. Because of them. Because Ladybug and Cat Noir didn't save her."

Raven's eyes narrowed slightly, boring into him. "I imagine there's a little more to the story than that…"

"No–it's okay, Jules," Blonde interjected, cutting of Claude's vehement retort. "What I say or what you say isn't what's really important here." She stood up and brushed off her knees before turning back to Claude. "If that is how you understand what happened, then that's what happened."

Claude cocked his head, brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes drifted down to the grave to find a single white rose growing just in front of the headstone, which had not been there two minutes earlier. He stared at the rose suspiciously and finally took a closer look at the two young women in front of him. His eyes widened in recognition. "You!" He took a step toward them.

Raven – Bengalia, of course – pulled Blonde – Miss Pinky – close to her chest protectively, her eyes narrowed and mouth set in a thin line. Seeming not to notice her friend's sudden tension, Miss Pinky gave Claude a sad, apologetic look. "I only wanted to come and pay my respects," she told him. "I'm sorry for my part in what happened."

Claude's eyes narrowed dangerously. His hands clenched into tight fists, his transformation phrase on his lips. "What gives you the right–?" he growled.

"Remember what I told you last time…" Bengalia warned him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Miss Pinky put her hand on Bengalia's chest, pushing her back. "No – stop! Not here! Not now!" She turned to Claude and shook her head sadly. "I didn't want–"

"Why did you come?"

"To tell you I'm sorry!"

"That won't bring Béa back!"

Bengalia put a hand on Miss Pinky's shoulder and started pulling her back down the row in the direction that they had come. Miss Pinky gave him one last sorrowful look over her shoulder before they stepped back onto the pavement and walked through the cemetery gate. Claude glared after them until they were out of sight, his transformation phrase still on his lips.

"The gall of them!" he seethed, still staring at the corner around which they had disappeared.

He would never forget what they had done to his beloved Béatrice.