Adrien Agreste's face was everywhere. Literally everywhere. If they could have gotten his permission to stick it on mugs and tee-shirts, Marinette was convinced that they would have. The television was absolutely full of his now famous interview. It seemed to be repeated on an endless loop, analysed and dissected in its most minute of details in an attempt to somehow pick up on something that had been missed. How could they have missed something when it had been aired more often that Jagged Stone's most popular hit?! The young woman had found herself raging on the third day following the young man's surprise appearance on television. The same of course was true about the internet. The name of the former model was plastered on even the most obscure site which was to say nothing of the legion of fans he seemed to have acquired in the space of a few hours. It wasn't even as if she could escape him by avoiding screens, the street itself seemed to have turned into a gallery displaying nothing but the individual now being called by some "Paris' prodigal son".

It was out of a stubborn refusal to be faced with him that she found herself in the bakery, helping her mother. Even that wasn't enough to protect her as some of her old friends had decided to pay her a visit, eager to know if she'd had any contact with them. She'd denied it. A stupid lie but one she'd felt compelled to tell, justifying it by telling herself that it would help protect the miraculouses. Whatever the case, she'd claimed that he hadn't and that she had grown out of her "pining after Adrien" phase. They'd left, perhaps not entirely convinced but no longer so eager to pester her.

That left her here with just her parents. The other former miraculous holders were equally as confused. Like her, they had been hoping that Adrien's sudden reappearance might prompt him to stop hiding from them and perhaps explain his motivation. It was day three and they still hadn't heard from him. She doubted that they would. For some reason which none of them could comprehend, he had decided to distance himself from the people who he had fought side by side with for so many years. Just what was motivating him, Marinette couldn't say but she had decided to stop worrying about it and forget about him. As fate would have it, the city was making it pretty much impossible for her to do so. That had made her… Irritable. It was only in the bakery that she found herself able to escape and find some peace. Her parents seemed to know not to push things too far. They could sense that something was wrong and were smart enough to know just what (or rather who) was likely to be the cause. They didn't push however, no doubt hoping that she would talk to them when she was ready.

"You didn't say Jagged Stone was dropping by." It was her mother who disturbed her from that morning's thoughts.

"He wasn't. At least he didn't say he was." Marinette turned around, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"It's just that a fancy car just pulled up out front."

Intrigued, Marinette approached the window cautiously. Her mother wasn't wrong. There was an unusually flashy car parked out the front. It was the sort of vehicle which people would slow down as they walked past to get a better look at it, a few might even have taken photos. One thing that she was certain of was that it didn't belong to the rock star.

Jagged Stone couldn't drive. Well, in a way he could. In fact, he'd passed his test more times than anyone else Marinette knew: a grand total of six times which also happened to be the same number of times that he'd lost his licence. By the sixth, Penny had convinced him that he might as well use a limousine when required. At any rate, the sleek two seater sports car she found herself contemplating wasn't in the man's style. He was a rock star of the purest order. His idea of transport was an American beast which guzzled gas like there was no tomorrow and looked as if it could collide with a brick wall and win. This car was far too elegant and refined for his standards. She wasn't enough of a petrol-head to be able to tell one way or another which country it had originally been built and designed it. What she knew, was that it wasn't the sort of thing which her old friend would be driving (or be chauffeured around) in.

Curious, she approached the window. Flashy cars weren't an entire uncommon sight around the centre of the city. It was its occupant whom she was somewhat more curious about. A figure emerged from the car. It only took a few seconds for her to back away from the window, sensing the danger, her heart skipped a beat as panic began to take hold. There could be no mistaking that he was coming straight for the bakery. She searched for shelter, her natural instinct demanding that she run away and hide. Her mother caught onto her unease, frowning and abandoning her rearrangement of the viennoiseries.

"Is everything alright Marinette?" She didn't even attempt to mask the concern in her voice.

"Yes. No." She stammered still trying to come up with some kind of plan. "It's Adrien, he's coming this way!"

"Oh, Adrien Agreste..." There was a knowing smile on the woman's features as the name from the past resurfaced.

"Mom! Look, uh..." She let out a defeated sigh. In a flash, her mother's teasing vanished, replaced once more with worry. "I can't explain it right now but I really can't talk to him. Is it okay if-"

"Of course, you go out back and I'll deal with him."

"You don't need to be rude or anything." She knew, that with the right prompting, the usually kind and considerate Sabine could give hell's worst furies a run for their money. "Just, don't let him know I'm here."

"Okay."

Her confusion was obvious but she didn't argue. Marinette truly loved her parents. She wasted little more time in darting into the kitchen. Her father was in there, just finishing the next lot of baguettes ready for the lunchtime rush. He raised his eyebrows, puzzled. His daughter placed a finger on her lips, silently shushing him. She left the door slightly ajar, just enough so that they could still hear what was going on in the shop. There was a familiar chiming signalling that someone had just walked in. Despite her desperation not to be seen, the young woman found herself struggling with the urge to peer round and see just what was going on. She thought better of it. As frustrated as she might have been with Adrien, letting him know that she was here but actively avoiding him would only have been cruel. There was no need to risk hurting his feelings, even if a part of her felt as if he might have deserved it.

"Um… Hi, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng." Came the unusually timid voice of Adrien from the other room.

"Good morning Adrien!" His mother greeted him warmly, ignoring her daughter's bizarre awkwardness from a few moments ago.

"You remember me?" He sounded surprised, as if the fact that his face was now inescapable had somehow failed to register.

"Yes, of course. You've certainly grown."

"Thank you..." There was an awkward pause, she could practically picture him looking around. "Uh… Is Marinette in?"

For a moment, she actually considered coming out of her hiding spot and showing herself. She would pretend that she hadn't known he was coming and see just what he wanted. There was a twinge of regret now as she found herself wondering just what could have driven him to come here like this. If something terrible had happened and he didn't know who else to turn to… The notion was dismissed. He sounded a little uneasy but that was likely more due to nerves than anything else. Had it been an emergency, Cat Noir and not Adrien would have come seeking her out. She waited anxiously for her mother to respond, fearing a betrayal that had not once occurred in the past:

"No. I'm afraid she's out. I'm not too sure when she'll be back."

"Oh! Okay..." There was some disappointment there, that much was obvious. "Well… Could you please give these to her and tell her that I'm really sorry?"

"Of course, I'll make sure that she gets them."

"Thank you… Please, have a nice day."

"You too!"

Them? Marinette's mind was racing, wondering just what they could have been talking about. The bell went signalling that the young man had indeed left the bakery. Despite that, her heart was still thundering in her chest, panic stricken. Was she actually afraid of Adrien Agreste? The idea seemed preposterous. As a teen, if she'd gotten shaky when he was around, it was mainly because she was concerned that she would make a fool of herself. Given that he was no longer on her radar so to speak, that worry should have vanished. She didn't know what it was, reasoning instead that she'd simply been scared that he would see her and they'd end up creating some sort of a scene in front of her parents. Not that she hadn't done that by herself.

Her mother entered a moment later. In her hands, she was carrying a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't huge, not enough to draw vast amounts of attention in the street but it remained none-the-less noticeable in such a small area, making it impossible to focus on anything else. The woman seemed to be confused, unsure what to do or say following her interaction with Adrien. Instead, she simply offered the gift to her daughter:

"These are for you."

"Another admirer, eh, Marinette?" Her father's jovial tone was largely ignored as she tentatively took the bouquet.

"Not exactly..."

She stared at them, unable to think clearly. Red roses. Very Adrien…

Marinette couldn't have said if he thought they were romantic or simply didn't know enough about flowers to pick a different type. Whatever the case, they weren't a gift that she was going to be able to innocently flaunt around. Instinctively, she found herself glancing out the window, praying that he'd been cautious enough to ensure that the press weren't following him. The street outside seemed to be as empty – well, in Paris it was never empty – but as calm as it usually was. Hopefully, he had been and gone without anyone else seeing. She was already going to have a fun time trying to explain all of this to her parents without them becoming overly suspicious or inventing nightmare scenarios in their minds. It was as she was thinking up a way to tell them just what had happened without giving away too much detail that she spotted a small note in the flowers.

Sorry about everything. If you can forgive me, meet me at the Musée Cernuschi at 3 am, Saturday.

An odd place for a rendez-vous, she was a little hazy about where that even was. It certainly wasn't a major tourist attraction. Knowing Adrien, that would have been intentional. Despite all of his current publicity, he had never appreciated being crowded and would likely want to keep it that way. Was she actually considering going?! Shaking her head, the young woman brought herself back into the real world and out of her private musings. She had almost forgotten that right now, her parents would be expecting some answers for her bizarre- as they would undoubtedly see it – behaviour and just why the city's newly crowned "most eligible bachelor" felt it was necessary to give her both an apology and a bouquet. She decided to answer before they even asked:

"He paid me a visit about a week ago. He was a little bit…" Her voice trailed off for a moment, as she tried to think of the appropriate word to describe his behaviour. "Rude I guess."

"So this is his way of apologizing?" Tom eyed the flowers as if they might somehow be Venus fly traps in disguise.

"I think so..." She contemplated the bouquet, unsure as ever.

"Are you going to keep them?" Her mother questioned, her attention briefly drifting over to the car as it drove off.

"I'm not too sure..."

Not too sure was pretty much a state of being for her for the rest of the morning. She found herself pushing her food around the plate at lunch, her mind anywhere but the table with her parents. She wanted to be able to stay angry at Adrien, as bizarre as it might have sounded. He had no right to treat them the way that he had given that they had only been concerned for his well-being. If he had deemed it so important that they stay out of his life, then they would. Staying angry at her friend was something which was for some reason far more challenging than it should have been. It left her frustrated: wanting to hate but being unable to do so. She should maybe have forgiven him but inside, there was the fear that in another few days he would have changed his mind and end up pushing them away again. She wasn't too sure her heart could withstand the heartbreak a second time.

4pm rolled by and she was still as frustrated as she had been at 10am. Hours of reflection only brought about the same questions and doubts. The threat of the day beginning to die did bring about one decision however:

"Mom! Dad! I'm going out! I'll be back later!"

She called the words out as she slipped out the door, her destination already in mind. It wasn't a long walk down to the quais. She knew the route so well that she could likely have found her way blindfolded. At some points in the past, she had made the trip two or three times in a day. Others, it had been much rarer. It must have been a little over a week since she had last embarked on the trek. In truth, between school and then Adrien's sudden reappearance, she had somewhat forgotten about her regular-ish visits. With the young man now in the news so prominently, no doubt they might guessed why she had been a little bit too distracted to come.

Unsurprisingly, things hadn't changed. She doubted they ever would: an old boat moored in harbour, its extravagant captain either on board listening to music or off partaking in some social gathering (the louder the better) somewhere about the city and her two children would almost certainly be around somewhere. Marinette approached cautiously. She was yet to receive a hostile greeting but given her somewhat unconventional relationship with the inhabitants, she was never too sure what to expect. She stood near to the plank leading onto the vessel. Her eyes scanned the ship, looking for any sign of those who called it home. Everything seemed to be surprisingly still, an unusual state of affairs. After a few seconds however, the sound of a few soft notes of music originating from reached her ears:

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hey there Luka!"

She was met with a soft and gentle smile from the young man. Without waiting for an invite, she crossed the plank, joining him on board the boat. They embraced, a quick kiss and a hug: closer than friends, more distant than lovers; at least today. There was something comforting about Luka Couffaine. It had drawn her to him almost as soon as the two of them had met and had driven her to seek him out today. They exchanged some largely meaningless banter, asking how the other one was (as if that much could have changed in a week, although as Marinette had discovered, an awful lot could). The rest of his family were out, he claimed, getting shopping and they likely wouldn't return for a good hour or so yet. That suited her just fine, as much as she liked Juleka and her mom, it was their son whom she felt that she needed to talk to. Some peace and quiet would be essential for that, even if their privacy was generally respected, it was nice to know that they had the place to themselves for a bit.

It wasn't long until Luka invited her inside. The weather had turned decidedly chilly these past few days and lingering on deck didn't suit either of them. There was something homely about the inside of the ship which Marinette couldn't help but find appealing. At least until she caught sight of the front page of one of the magazines left on a table. Adrien Agreste, always Adrien Agreste… She couldn't help but comment exasperatedly:

"Urgh… That guy's face is everywhere!"

"I thought this might be about him."

There was no jealousy or malice behind Luka's amused statement. Whilst he wasn't entirely above such sentiments, they had never seemed to affected him that badly where her former crush was concerned. He seemed to have some sort of strange inbuilt understanding as far as her feelings for Adrien went. Hence the reason for her visit. If she was too confused and angry to think clearly about it, she was hoping against hope that he might be able to provide her with some clarity. The young man sat down on the sofa, his guitar on his lap. He gestured for her to settle next to him, something which she did almost instinctively.

She told him about what had happened, editing out the details about the miraculous and just where the young man had been. He listened but didn't immediately respond. Conversations with Luka involved music. It seemed to be a part of his being. He would strum a few cords on his guitar, sometimes for only a few seconds but on a couple of occasions, his tunes had lasted the best part of an hour before he had pronounced so much as half a word. Marinette waited, allowing to continue with his song and do all the thinking that he required. It was relaxing enough to soothe some of her own concerns, she closed her eyes, content to simply listen and to allow herself to be lulled by the soft melody. It was after about three minutes that the notes finally began to die down and he allowed silence to settle in:

"So what are you asking?"

"I just don't know what to do." She let out in a sigh. "I mean, he was a jerk."

"Telling you and your friends to clear out, of course he was." The young man agreed with her.

"So… I don't want to see him again but-" It was difficult to express her frustration other than with a grumble.

"Poor guy if he's got you mad enough to actually want to hate him." Luka's voice trailed off for a moment. "I sort of feel sorry for him..."

Marinette turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow curiously as she did so. He didn't answer her immediately, instead, he chose to strum another few cords on his guitar. Adrien wasn't a subject that either of them had talked about all that often, barely at all in fact. She had turned to Luka as soon as it had become clear that her friend wasn't returning. He'd been patient enough to wait, no doubt understanding just how much that boy with the blonde hair and green eyes had meant to her. She wasn't too sure what she'd been expecting. Perhaps not jealousy but sympathy wasn't exactly the first thing that had come to her mind either. There was a slight melancholy in his tune however, one which didn't escape her attention. She waited for him to finish none-the-less:

"You feel sorry for him?" She asked as soon as he had stopped playing.

"His parents kept him locked up for all those years whilst they tried to destroy Paris, when they got caught everyone sort of turned against him. I mean the only person who thought to get him out of the country was the family secretary. No wonder he has trouble with people. So yeah… I feel sorry for him."

Marinette didn't respond, preferring instead to mull over his words. It went without saying that she'd felt a great deal of sympathy for Adrien. They hadn't known at the time that they had confronted Hawk Moth and Mayura just who lay behind the mask of Cat Noir. Had they known, she wondered if they would have let him fight by their side. Even now, she couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him. It wasn't that which confused and irritated her, it was his behaviour since his return. If only because she couldn't understand the reasoning behind them. For some reason, Luka seemed to be able to look past that. She wondered if she could do the same. Perhaps, the young woman reasoned, her old friend simply wanted to explain himself to her. He wouldn't be able to do that unless she gave him the chance…

"You think that I should give him another chance?"

"I know that you'll regret it if you don't." Her friend told her strumming his guitar once more. "Worst case scenario, he's a jerk. At least you won't spend the rest of your life worrying about whether or not you did the right thing."

She couldn't fault the logic. Despite everything, she didn't fear Adrien. He might confuse her but she didn't think he'd ever be capable of harming her, at least not physically. The worst that she would risk was potentially getting her feelings hurt once more. Her pride was another obstacle, perhaps the main one. It had been injured twice already. Still, as usual she couldn't help but think back to the young man. It felt as if something, somewhere was wrong. She couldn't have said what but it almost felt as if he was in need of some kind of help. Even Nathalie had seemed to be somewhat unsettled by his behaviour.

In her heart of hearts, Marinette found herself realizing that she already knew just what she was going to do.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she rested her head against her friend's shoulder. He smiled, putting a hand around her shoulders. It was only for a few seconds. More than once, she had wished that she could be entirely happy with Luka. There was an absence however that Adrien and Cat Noir had left when they had disappeared which she had never entirely been able to fill. The young musician was the person who came the closest. In another life, she imagined that she could have been more than happy with him. It wasn't to be however. She knew that he could sense that as much as she could. Eventually they would drift apart. They would likely always be friends but never have that little bit extra required to make it work.

"Thanks Luka..."

"My pleasure, Marinette…"

/

Thanks again for the reviews.