Over the next few months, Jean Luc fell into a comfortable rhythm. His aches and pains healed quickly, and soon he was functioning at one hundred percent again. He worked in the bakery nearly every day beginning before sun-up, and the Dupain-Cheng's had graciously allowed him to stay in their apartment above the shop.
"Sorry it's pink," Tom had said apologetically to him as they'd shown him to his sleeping area. "This room belonged to our daughter, but she moved out a few years ago to a flat on the other side of City Center."
Jean Luc had noticed the bed in the loft, several old sketch books in a pile on the desk in front of a computer, a pink chaise lounge, and random fabric scraps shoved away in a set of plastic drawers to one side of the closet. He smiled. The room felt warm and comfortable, just like the rest of the Dupain's home, and gave a few clues to the craft-obsessed girl who'd lived here.
"No worries," he had said casually. He was just happy to have somewhere to stay that wasn't next to the river where he'd woken. In time, he also found that he enjoyed the Dupain-Cheng's company. They were a kind and loving couple, and they extended their warmth to him freely, as if he were their own son. He never told them much about himself (since he truly had very little to tell), but he found that he and Tom both enjoyed corny jokes and puns, and the three of them spent many free evenings having movie nights and video game challenges or playing board games.
He'd soon found that he had a natural talent for baking; or, so he assumed. He couldn't remember ever baking anything, but he found it fun and relaxing. By the end of the first week, Tom and Sabine had become so attached to their charming new assistant that they'd asked him to stay on full-time. He'd been so relieved that he'd been allowed to stay that he'd launched himself into Sabine, wrapping her in a hug. Upon realizing what he'd done, he'd stepped back quickly, face flushing, before Tom had stepped forward and nearly crushed him in a hug of his own.
As he started on a batch of pain au chocolat, Jean Luc had to admit he was perfectly content in this life he'd created for himself. He was happy with his work, though it maybe wasn't glamorous or what most would call ambitious. He had people who cared about him. And although he still had many questions about who he really was and what had happened to him, he wasn't sure he wanted to trade his new life for whatever his old one had been.
He had to confess to himself, though, that he was becoming increasingly curious about the Dupain-Cheng's daughter, Marinette. He'd seen her a few times, just flitting in and out every once in a while to say hi to her parents, but she'd never stayed to chat. Even though he'd now been at the bakery for almost five months, he still had never been formally introduced to her. In fact, he was relatively sure that she'd never noticed his presence.
He'd watched her out of the corner of his eye as she pecked her mother on the cheek before disappearing up to the apartment one day. She had large, expressive blue eyes, which seemed sad when she thought no one was looking, and dark hair that hung around her face in soft waves, though she often pulled it back out of her face. She was pretty, he thought, but he could tell something was off about her. He'd noticed the dark circles under her eyes that she had attempted to hide with make-up and the tension in her shoulders. A couple times, he noticed her subtly rubbing at her forehead as though to ease the pressure built up there. He hoped she wasn't getting ill.
Her parents talked about her often enough that he felt he knew quite a bit about her, and he'd seen the photos of her that her parents had sprinkled throughout the house. Her blue eyes were always sparkling with happiness, or mischief, or amusement in those photos. But something had happened, he was sure of it, because the Marinette he'd seen kept mostly to herself, rarely smiled, and her blue eyes were dull. There was not a sparkle to be seen.
Her mother seemed increasingly quiet and worried each time after her daughter would visit. Once she would leave, Sabine would retreat to her kitchen and begin whipping up some chocolate chip cookies. He'd asked her about it once.
"They're Marinette's favorite," Sabine had told him, before lapsing back into silence, refusing to say anything more.
As he finished his task, checking the list of items to prepare for the day, his mind turned to Ladybug. The red-clad super heroine had seemed increasingly overwhelmed in the past few months. Chat Noir had never shown his face, not once since the day Jean Luc had woken by the river.
He had heard various news reports that went over the disappearance of Chat Noir again and again in great detail. Chat's very last recorded battle had millions of views, people the world over trying to theorize what had happened to the leather-clad young man in cat ears. Most people, from what he could tell, believed he was dead, killed in the explosion that finished the battle. Truthfully, they had very little to go on- it wasn't as though Ladybug herself was very forthcoming with information. She had veritably fled from the reporters nearly every time they approached her.
Jean Luc, for his part, disagreed. Chat Noir was alive, he could almost feel it. But he had to admit, he was a little angry with the guy. He had spent hours of his free time watching commentaries of the recent akuma battles on the old computer in Marinette's old room. He felt drawn to Ladybug and her hero work, for some reason. He had been startled at how long the heroes had been fighting the akumas, but it was plain to see (to him, at least) that Chat had loved Ladybug, almost since that very first day. He was always flirting and teasing her in the fan vids he found on that site, the Ladyblog. He could see it in the way he leaned toward her, the way he was always aware of her presence, and the way he looked at her. And there was rarely a battle where he was not attempting to kiss her hand or watching her, unnoticed, in the most love-sick fashion. Jean Luc had skipped around a bit in the video chronology, and found that, as they had grown, their relationship to each other had changed very little. He still pursued her in a light-hearted fashion that could possibly be mistaken for teasing or joking, and she still good-naturedly rebuffed him at every turn, even up until he'd disappeared. He'd claimed to have loved her. He'd acted like he loved her. And then…he was just…gone. He'd left Ladybug hanging at the snap of a finger. No fight they could have had was possibly worth that.
To make matters worse, it seemed that Ladybug's powers were going haywire. There was rampant speculation on how and why the akumas seemed to multiply more often than not. Ladybug had to purify the stupid bug three or four times now to prevent akuma swarms later, and the times she forgot or was distracted produced frozen akumatized statues that were now scattered over Paris. Many people had called for the dismissal of Ladybug- she wasn't doing a good job as protector of Paris, anyway, people reasoned. Maybe, they said, if she disappeared, Hawkmoth would, too.
Jean Luc, once again, disagreed. He didn't know what Hawkmoth's motivation was, but he was sure that if Ladybug disappeared, the entire city would be in shambles in a matter of days. Getting rid of Ladybug was the wrong answer, but he didn't know what the right answer was. Her magic was becoming more and more erratic as time wore on, less effective, and he could see the tension in her shoulders every time a new akuma appeared. It was similar to the tension he saw in Marinette the few times he'd seen her, now that he thought on it…
A crash from behind him startled him out of his thoughts.
"Sorry," a voice mumbled as he turned to see what had happened. Marinette was sitting there on the floor, flushed in embarrassment. "Tripped," she said shortly by way of explanation.
Jean Luc dusted off his hands and reached one out to her, hoping to help the girl to her feet. But she ignored his hand, pushing herself up off the floor instead. She attempted to right the box she'd been carrying, the contents of which had spilled over the tiles. Papers covered in sketches were everywhere. Jean Luc silently stooped to help her.
As he gathered the various papers, one in particular caught his eye. A mostly black-and-white sketch of a boy in a heavy black jumpsuit with a Mandarin-style collar, his light, messy hair askew, punctuated with fuzzy black cat ears. His look was completed by a tail made out of a belt. The lean, muscular chest and biceps were plain to see, even with the leather. He was smirking, and his green cat eyes- the only thing in the entire sketch done in color- were sparkling with mischief behind his thick black domino mask. His posture was crouched in what could only be described as a 'cat pose', his clawed hands resting on the ground between his wide-spread knees. On one of his fingers was a heavy black ring bearing a paw print symbol. He was captivated- it was one of the most life-like drawings he'd ever seen.
He looked up to see Marinette watching him uncomfortably. He gave her a crooked smile, trying to ease her concern.
"This- this is quite good," he remarked earnestly. "Your own work, I assume?" She nodded silently, snatching the paper away from him. A jolt of electricity shot through him as their hands brushed against each other briefly. It was then that he noticed a heavy-looking silver ring shining in the light on her right ring finger as she pulled her hand back. That's important, his mind told him, before he pushed the thought away. He watched as she glanced at the drawing, pain and grief flitting over her face, before she carefully schooled her expression into neutrality, her blue eyes on her feet.
"Thank you for your help, um…" she looked up at him questioningly before her gaze darted away from him.
"Jean Luc," he supplied helpfully. "And you're Marinette," he stated confidently, wishing she would make eye contact with him again. Her eyes were beautiful, he thought off-handedly. She nodded again, glancing at him warily. There was a pause before she shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, I have to go," she said finally as the awkward silence stretched between them. "Nice to meet you, Jean Luc," she said, before starting to turn away.
"You as well, Milady," Jean Luc said with a jaunty two-fingered salute. He didn't know what possessed him to do that, but it just felt…natural. He shrugged it off. Marinette, however, whirled back around to face him head-on, nearly dropping her box a second time as she stared at him in shock. She studied his face, her eyes intense in concentration. What did I say? He thought worriedly, though he took care that his face didn't show his feelings, only raising an eyebrow at her stunned look. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a word out, her father's voice boomed out behind them.
"Jean Luc! I see you've finally met our Marinette," he beamed at them. Jean Luc, for his part, turned his body towards Tom's voice, though his eyes remained firmly fixed on Marinette's face. She was still staring at him, thunderstruck, before she shook her head with a grimace.
"I was just heading up to drop this in my room before class, Papa," Marinette said to her father, who shook his head.
"Just leave it in the living room, cherie. Jean Luc is staying with us for the time being, and he's got your old room now. I'll put it away later," he said.
"Oh," Marinette said faintly. "Ok." Jean Luc's chocolate eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Her eyes were darting around, as though she were desperately searching for an exit. Just then, her mother entered the room from the store front.
"Marinette, what a lovely surprise!" Sabine said warmly. "Won't you join us for lunch?"
Marinette shook her head. "I have class, Maman," she begged off. Sabine would not be deterred, however.
"Well, then, why don't you come for dinner sometime later this week?"
Jean Luc watched as Marinette's anxiety continued to build. "I…I'll think about it," she said, before disappearing out the door towards the apartment. He registered Sabine's stricken gaze following after her daughter, before he quickly made up his mind. Jolting forward, he quickly ran after her, up the flight of stairs into the apartment. He tried to open the door, but it seemed something heavy was leaning against it.
"M-Marinette?" He said tentatively, knocking softly on the door with the knuckle of his index finger. There was a pause, then he heard a shuffle from the other side as the door swung open to reveal an exhausted-looking Marinette. "Hey. Are…are you alright?" He asked, looking at her in concern. She didn't acknowledge him, keeping her gaze firmly planted on the toes of her black flats. He sighed, running a hand through his brown locks in frustration. He didn't know why she was being like this, but he intended to do everything in his power to change it. "Look, I'm sorry if I said or did anything I shouldn't have," he said softly. She met his eyes in surprise. Clearly, she had not been expecting him to apologize. "I want to make it right."
She considered him for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "You…you didn't do anything wrong," she replied finally. "You just…you reminded me of someone for a moment." She didn't elaborate, but the pain in her eyes told him a lot.
"Someone you lost," he said astutely, searching her eyes. "Someone you cared about." She looked at him in surprise, but nodded. His mind automatically put the pieces together. "It's- it's that Chat Noir fellow, isn't it?" He blurted out before he could stop himself, feeling a little disappointed. He peeked up through his hair to see her reaction. He should have known. There was no way a nobody like him could compare with a superhero anyway…
He saw her large eyes become the size of dinner plates, before they narrowed. So I was right…
"I don't think that's your business," she said bluntly.
"I'm sorry," he said, twisting at his right ring finger nervously. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just…you seem sad. I- I only want to help." He looked away before chocolate eyes met sky blue. "I haven't lived here very long. I don't know a soul here in Paris, aside from your parents. I had hoped…I hoped we could be friends? But…" He sighed. "I think I started out wrong," he admitted, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets, breaking eye contact as he stared at his feet. He felt miserable. "You don't seem to like me very much." He glanced at her through his hair again.
Her expression smoothed a little before she spoke. "I just…don't know you," she admitted. "Maybe…maybe someday we could be friends."
His brown eyes brightened as he gave her a small smile. "I'd like that," he answered. The silence stretched between them for a moment, before he broke it.
"I should…probably get back to work," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand awkwardly as he gestured towards the door with the other. Marinette was looking at him oddly again, but then cleared her expression. He looked at her seriously for a moment, before speaking again. "Your mother is worried about you, you know," he said. He said nothing else, not sure if it was his place to, before turning on his heel and descending back to his pastries, leaving Marinette alone with her thoughts.
As soon as he left, Marinette sank onto the sofa, putting her head in her hands. She could feel a migraine coming on.
His mannerisms are so much like Chat's, she finally acknowledged to herself. The word choices, the neck rubbing tic when he was feeling awkward, the crooked smile, the way he looked at her though his hair when he was feeling insecure… She was trembling. Then her jaw hardened.
No, it can't be him, she argued with herself. You just want to find him so badly that you were imagining things. Seeing what you wanted to see.
She sighed. The truth was, she'd didn't know anything about the young man who'd come after her, or that much about Chat, either, for that matter. His hair didn't match, but then again, maybe the suit's magic could change someone's hair color. Jean Luc could very well have been Chat Noir, and she'd never know…but that wouldn't explain why Chat hadn't contacted her as Ladybug by now if he was Jean Luc…he may not have had the ring or the suit anymore, but Chat was smart. He would have gotten a message to her if he wanted to. Or was able to, her mind finished unhelpfully.
He called me Milady! She thought in a panic, grasping at her hair. Jean Luc called me Milady! What if he knows who I am?
"Marinette! Calm down!" Tikki's small voice sounded muffled from inside her purse. "It's going to be ok."
Marinette took a breath but it didn't seem to help. No, it wasn't going to be ok! Everything was wrong. Chat was still missing (and possibly dead, her traitorous mind added before she could push it away), and her powers were crumbling. And now there was a strange young man in the bakery that acted like Chat! She was a wreck. She pulled her feet up onto the sofa, drawing her knees to her chest. She sighed heavily as she buried her face in her arms and rested it on her knees.
"Trust your instincts, Spots." Marinette jumped as Plagg's voice sounded quietly in her ear; she'd put him in her bag with Tikki earlier. He must have climbed or floated up on her shoulder when she wasn't paying attention. "What are they telling you?"
She huffed in frustration. Her mind and emotions were so loud that she had no idea what her instincts were telling her. She thought a moment.
"Maybe…to give Jean Luc a chance?" She said questioningly. "He seemed kind, and…I don't know. Maybe there's more to him than meets the eye."
Plagg seemed satisfied. "Good enough," he said approvingly. "For what it's worth, I agree with you," he added. "I have a very good feeling about that kid."
"Are you going to visit your parents later?" Tikki asked from her bag. Marinette looked at her doubtfully.
"I don't know. I don't want to have to explain anything to them," she said. "I don't want to talk about it. I can't, anyway. No one can know that I'm Ladybug, or that Marinette knows Chat Noir. It's bad enough Jean Luc was able to read me well enough to come to that conclusion. And I definitely won't be able to hide it from Maman. If anyone brings up Chat Noir in conversation, she'll be able to read it right off my face," she said morosely. The kwamis said nothing before Plagg rejoined Tikki her bag, knowing by now it was pointless to argue.
She watched them for a moment as they curled up together, both kwamis looking worn out. She felt a pang of guilt. She knew that Tikki and Plagg were taking shifts during the night, watching out for akumas to keep Marinette from falling prey to Hawkmoth. She'd already been woken several times in the last few months to catch the akumas fluttering around her room before they could turn her with the emotions from her nightmares. She was beyond appreciative, but she couldn't help but feel that her emotions were a huge burden on her tiny friends. She couldn't seem to shake her depressive moods for long.
Oddly enough, Hawkmoth had backed off somewhat since Chat's disappearance; the schedule was back to once every two or three days. She knew she was lucky he had, though she had actually expected he would try to take advantage of Chat being gone and pummel her with every akuma he could. But he hadn't, and for that, she was eternally grateful.
After a beat, she shook herself out of her thoughts and stood slowly. "I better get to class. I'm going to be late as it is." She made her way down the stairs and out through the bakery. She stopped short as she caught sight of Jean Luc, who was pulling ingredients off the shelf, preparing to start another batch of something with his back to her. He hadn't noticed her appearance. She made a split-second decision and approached him, putting a small hand on his shoulder.
He jumped at the contact, before turning to face her. Surprise was written across his handsome features. She met his eyes seriously.
"Please. Please don't tell anyone," she whispered pleadingly.
"Tell anyone what?" He asked, looking confused, his chocolate eyes searching behind his glasses. She glanced around quickly, checking that no one was listening, before answering.
"That I know Chat Noir," she explained softly. "No one can know. It's too dangerous. Please."
His expression hardened, his eyes blazing determinedly. "Your secret is safe with me, Milady," he promised. She shivered and her heart flipped. It's not him. It's not him. It can't be, she reminded herself.
"Anyway, I have to go. I'll see you around?" She asked. He smiled softly.
"Yeah. See you around," he echoed, giving his two-fingered salute with a flour-covered hand as she turned and left the room.