A single drop of blood made its way down Marinette's finger. She yelped, cursing before instinctively putting it into her mouth. It wasn't the first time that she had been careless with a needle. As a seamstress and designer, she was somewhat accustomed to this sort of wound. Her tools were sharp, they had to be to do their job. Generally, she would hurt herself for one of three reasons: ambition by trying to make an especially difficult cut or stitch, impatience or carelessness. Today it was her wit which wasn't up to the task. Her mind was constantly wandering as it had been for a while now. She knew the cause, much as she might try to deny it, even to herself.

A pair of green eyes and a handsome face were to blame.

Adrien haunted her. Not in the same way as he had done as a teenager. She was relatively confident that her crush was now well and truly terminated. It was hard to feel anything for someone who had made it so obvious that he didn't want them in his life. For some reason however, she wasn't quite able to banish him from her mind altogether as she would have liked to. Some nostalgia was part of the problem, that had never been called into any doubt. When he had turned up on the steps of her university, umbrella in hand and with a welcoming smile, she had dared to dream that things might have gone back to the way that they were. They would be back to being Ladybug and Cat Noir once more or at the very least be able to chat about it. His actions and motivations remained confusing to her. Even Nathalie, she was still trying to process just what the woman was doing back in the Agreste household, had appeared to be unsure about the young man's motivations or reasoning.

There was no sense crying over spilled milk, she tried telling herself. They had coped well-enough over the course of a decade without him. Surely, they could ignore him easily enough, especially if he intended to spend his days cooped up in the mansion. So far, the experiment was a failure. It had gotten to the extent that the group of four friends whom he'd left behind were actively avoiding talking to one another, at least until they were able to do so without bringing up the subject of Adrien Agreste.

He was a figure of such confusion that they had spent literally hours discussing him, wondering what he had been doing and what was causing to act as he was. They had verged on the conspiracy, wondering if someone, somewhere might be manipulating him somehow. The idea had largely been dismissed. If that was the case, they reasoned, they would likely have made their presence felt by now in the same way that Hawk Moth had. At least that was what they hoped. The fact that all they could do was generate hypothesises which they couldn't prove one way or another had inevitably lead to frustration. Now, their former friend had become a figure of resentment. Let him isolate himself, they would do more than alright without him.

So why was he impossible to ignore? Try as she might, there was no forgetting about the young man. He haunted her both day and night.

Something felt wrong. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. His attitude seemed so different to the young man they had left, it was proving to be hard to believe that they were the same person. They weren't. It was something that the four friends had brought up more than once, ten years had passed. Even leaving Master Fu and the young man's uncommon upbringing to one side, the chances of him being exactly the same as the fourteen year old they had known were slim. Perhaps, even without the physical separation they would have grown apart. Right now, Marinette found herself longing to believe that. The simplest conclusion was that somewhere along the line, their companion had turned into something of a jerk. Whilst there was a part of her (which paled into comparison with Alya's journalistic instinct) which wanted to investigate further so as to discover just what was motivating him, right now, the young woman just wanted to ignore him and get on with her life. She had spent far too much time pining over Adrien Agreste. It was time to get on with her own life.

Her phone bleeped, informing her that she had just received a text. Marientte glanced at it. Alya, urgent apparently. Odd. She was just in the process of putting the vest that she had been working on back on the mannequin when it went off again. Initially, she assumed that it was simply her friend sending her the details. It wasn't it was Juleka of all people. Then Rose, Ivan, Marc, a few of her friends from college… She raised an eyebrow, approaching the device curiously. She picked it up, reading the first few words just as a frantic voice called her from the bottom of the stairs:

"Marinette! Come quickly! You've got to see this!"

Adrien's back.

How could they possibly know? She didn't contemplate the matter any further. Instead rushing downstairs. It wasn't like her mother the call her in such a manner over nothing. Naturally, she knew that it must have been something important. She was awake enough to link it with the messages that her friends were sending her. She found her parents in the living room, they were sitting on the couch, staring at the screen intently. It was Nadia's program, Face to Face… No… It wasn't called that any more. Whilst the name of the show didn't immediately pop into her mind, Marinette knew that it was generally something to do with interviewing celebrities of one kind or another. A chat-show, for lack of a better term. Jagged Stone had made more than one appearance on it. She'd probably only watched it half a dozen times or so, usually in support of its host more than anything else.

She was just finishing the introduction. Confident and charming as always, the host maintained a pleasant smile as she spoke.

"So without further ado, introducing our special guest, back in Paris for the first time in a decade: Adrien Agreste!"

Marinette's heart skipped a beat. She had known what to expect, at least in part. Things had started to click as soon as she'd associated whatever her parents thought was so important for her to see on television with her friends' texts. Still, seeing the young man sitting there was a shock to the system. It didn't even occur to the young woman to wonder about just what he was playing at presenting himself in front of the city, likely the nation in such an open-manner given how eager he had been to hide. Instead, all she could do was stand there and stare, as the image of the young man on the screen swallowed her entire attention.

Nathalie had done her work well. She could have been doing her old friend an injustice but she felt that someone with a little more experience who was somewhat more skilled at manipulation was behind this. Gabriel's former assistant was in many ways a ferocious woman. Gone was the boy and here was the man. His grey shirt was smart but not so formal as to make him appear strict or stuck-up. It must have cost a fortune, he kept the top few buttons undone, exposing just the beginning of his muscular chest. Not a strand of his golden hair was out of place. The ultimate aesthetic goal was obvious. To make hearts flutter and remind people just why Adrien's face had once been plastered all over the city. He looked rich, handsome and proud, the sort of young man who would gets hearts beating simply from being around him. He wore a slight smile at the corner of his lips, as he waited patiently.

He was calm. His posture was one which spoke of being relaxed, leaning back in the armchair, with his arms spread out. As he was introduced, he gave a slight wave to the camera with his right hand. Green orbs turned to face the camera so that it seemed as if the young man was looking directly at the spectators. His gentle expression was a thousand times different from the coldness that she and her friends had found themselves faced with when they had confronted him at his mansion only a few days ago…

Nadia turned to him, eager to begin their interview:

"So, Adrien… Why come back?"

Straight in with the big questions. Marinette was expecting her to ask just where he had been. Instead, there was some aggression there, a reminder that not all of the city's inhabitants were thrilled to see an Agreste back in town. It wasn't in the tone, Nadia was too experienced a journalist to let her own feelings or opinions taint the course of the discussion, especially so early on in the discussion. Instead, it was the implication which came across as hostile. Why come back when his parents had been responsible for the plague of misfortune and suffering which had afflicted the capital for so long. Even now, she could remember the fury from some of the inhabitants, demanding that the whole family be tried for their crimes.

He had been lucky to escape.

Despite the comment, Adrien smiled. It wasn't a smug show of his own perceived superiority at having been able to elude the crowds. It seemed gentle, understanding the rage of the city his parents had wronged. When he spoke, it was softly. He sounded confident but somehow earnest, as if he believed every word that he was pronouncing. Given his vows, Marinette reminded herself, he probably had little voice other than to speak the truth.

"Paris is my home. I was born here and I believe this is where I belong."

"Of course, you realize not everyone would agree with you."

"I know. I'm aware that many people think that I forfeit my right to call this city "home" when I left it." He didn't even pause much as he spoke, somehow, it came across as natural as opposed to him simply reciting a text he had been forced to learn. "I'm going to say it right now: Parisiens have every right to be angry."

That statement seemed to catch Nadia off-guard. Perhaps she had been expecting more of a combative approach from the young man. Gabriel had never been an easy person to tackle being at the best taciturn and frequently offensive when put in the public eye. His son was proving to be different: gentle, kind and seemingly honest, just as he had been as a teenager. She raised an eyebrow quizzically, no doubt expecting something more of an explanation from the young man. There was a slight crease in Adrien's brow now, he lowered his gaze fixing the floor, appearing somewhat troubled for a few moments. Was it an act? At that point, Marinette honestly couldn't have said. He let out a heavy sigh, eyes raising once more to meet those of the reporter.

"I promised you the whole truth as a part of this, didn't I?"

"Yes. That was the deal." Nathalie spoke with a soft smile, urging him on. "You've never spoken publicly about any of the events involving your parents and the akumas."

"No but then I haven't really been in France to be able to do so." Throwing his head back to look at the ceiling, Adrien continued to speak. "It's not a part of my life that I like to think back to."

"You're ashamed of it?"

"Of course. What my parents did – I still struggle to believe it sometimes myself – was inexcusable. They acted for their own selfish reasons and all I can say is that I'm glad Ladybug put a stop to their plans."

"And Cat Noir."

"Of course."

"Now the question everyone's been asking Adrien, I'm sure you know what it is."

"I can guess: they want to know if I had anything to do with it?" The woman nodded once, confirming his assumption. "I can honestly say that I had no idea who my parents were and what they were doing. I guess people might struggle to believe that, given my mother's sudden "reapparance" and everything. I was fourteen, naive, I was just so happy to have her back in my life so I didn't ask any questions..." There was a slight pause, heavy with its implications. "I never asked any questions..."

Despite everything that had happened Marinette couldn't help but feel a twinge of compassion for her old friend. As much as he had tried to hide it from them, from time to time, it had become clear that Adrien was far from happy with his home life. Just the odd word here or there, a sad and longing look when he saw a family together and enjoying themselves: a painful reminder of what he was missing. She'd never known the details. None of them had. Even before everything about the terrible Agreste secret had come to life, there had been whispers about what went on behind the massive gates of the mansion. The teen's friends had only been able to guess as to what things were like for him. In truth, even after the masks had fallen, they were still largely none-the-wiser.

There was a brief pause that settled in. Nothing very noticeable but the subject seemed to have drifted onto something a little bit more touchy where even the host would have to tread cautiously. She opened her mouth briefly but seemed to think better of it. It didn't go unnoticed by Adrien, the young man frowned, not hostile but picking up on the hesitation:

"You were going to ask me something?"

"Yes." She spoke slowly, choosing each of her words cautiously. "You're aware that there have been a lot of rumours running around at the time and since, concerning abuse."

"Those are false, my parents were strict but they never-" Adrien's strong, assertive tone vanished in an instant, his eyes widening. They were left with a break, silent, as if he'd suddenly drifted into another plain of existence. It only lasted a second before he was back with them, graver, more solemn. "The worst pain they ever inflicted on me was their betrayal. They chose to attack Paris, my home and my friends. I will never forgive them for that."

He meant it. There was a cold fire behind his green eyes which spoke of someone who had been wronged in all the worst possible ways and who was not about to forget who had been responsible for his suffering. There could be no doubting that he had endured a lot, too much for even his patience. If the message he had been trying to send had been that he wasn't to be compared to his parents, then it was as clear as day. Just where Adrien's loyalties lay was curiously never something which had ever crossed Marinette's mind, Cat Noir had been willing to give his life to stop Hawk Moth and Mayura's scheme. It was the rest of Paris who had had doubts about him, not his friends or even many of those who had known him, the notion of such a kind-hearted soul being evil had seemed abhorrent to many.

The next few questions were somewhat more gentle in their nature. They wanted to know just how he had escaped Paris and just where he had been spending the past few years of his life. It was something which intrigued Marinette. She doubted he would give an honest answer, which in itself was amusing given that she found herself remembering that he was notionally meant to avoid lying. She was eager to see just how he would manage to get himself out of the situation without breaking one of his vows. She should have guessed that he would already have thought about that much, probably rehearsing potential credible responses with Nathalie. In short: he had been ushered out of the country by some of those who cared about him the very night that his parents had been arrested, he'd spent the past decade in China with a "private tutor" generally avoiding the rest of the world. Half-truths, certainly not a lie but also not the whole story. It was about as much as he could get away with whilst also being truthful.

The next interesting subject of debate following his plans for the Agreste company which he had just officially taken over was that of Nathalie: another bone of contention as far as parisiens were concerned:

"What about the rumours that Nathalie Sancoeur is back in your household? Is she working for you again?"

"Those rumours are true. She's back living and working with me."

"Some might question why you're eager to involve yourself with someone who confessed to knowing full-well who Hawk Moth and Mayura were and in assisting them." Nadia's point was actually something which Marinette found herself agreeing with. "If not sure if you heard about her trial but she didn't exactly show any remorse."

"I can understand why people would have their doubts, even view it as suspicious." Adrien agreed with a soft sigh. Nathalie isn't the easiest person in the world to like but then she doesn't exactly try to be. Ask anybody who's had her work for them though and they'll tell you that you won't find anyone more reliable, dedicated or loyal. Quite simply: she's the best this city has to offer." He paused for a moment, evidently lost in his own thoughts. "She- She suffered the same as I did. Whilst it's true that she did play a part in Hawk Moth and Mayura's plans. I think that she regrets it. Ask her, she's the first one to admit that she deserved the time that she got but..."

"You think she deserves forgiveness?" Nadia spoke in his place.

"I think everyone needs a little bit of that from time to time but at the very least, I'm willing to give her a second chance."

His reply seemed to settle the atmosphere once more, calming things down. He had done his defending, protected the person whom he seemed to feel that he had to as well as his own reputation. Whether she had just ran out of the particularly aggressive and probing questions or was simply eager to end things on a more positive note – perhaps so that he would be more willing to one day potentially partake in a second interview - but she eased up on him. The last few were more more light-hearted. Asking Adrien just what he'd picked up in China, which lead to the young man speaking a couple of phrases in the language and then finally what his plans were for the future, if he was going to stay in the city.

"I will stay if the inhabitants are willing to forgive me or at least give me a second chance." He repeated his statement from earlier with a gentle smile. "I don't have any major plans for the time being, I'm still trying my best to get back on my feet."

"But we will be seeing you around?"

"Oh, you can count on it."

Adrien gave her a little wink, some of his Cat Noir shining through as he did so. The show ended a few seconds later, with Nadia promising equally thrilling programs to come. If Marinette's parents spoke to her, she remained unaware. The words "what the hell" were passing through her mind as she struggled to process everything that she had just seen. The entire interview could only have lasted between ten to fifteen minutes. Every one of them she had spent in shock. He seemed to be a different person from the other day when he had been so eager to kick them all out onto the street. A week ago, if you had asked her what her friend would be like if he suddenly re-materialized, she would likely have said something just like the young man she'd just watched. That left her with a single, somewhat irritating realization:

Paris was going to love him.

/

Thanks again for the reviews.