CHAPTER DISCLAIMER: A flashback to #7 The Stranger as well as hints at the events of #48 The Return. Oh, and yet another line from #54 The Beginning yet again.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Well, here's the look into Rachel's mind after what happened in class; sorry you didn't get to see it last time, but it was getting so long that I had to split it up into 2 different parts!
WARNING: This chapter has some references to M-rated video games as well as potential spoilers for any of them. (Let's just say that Rachel-as-Chloé might have turned to violent video games as a coping mechanism…)
MAJOR KUDOS to Arthur Hensen for helping to beta-read both parts of this chapter!
IMPORTANT REMINDER! So I've got a few people in the comment section here or there saying that they've never read Animorphs before (where Rachel comes from), so please let me remind you that I can send you ALL the ebooks; just email me, my email address is this screen name (StellarStylus) at Gmail.
Chapter 10: Drawn Into a Spiral, Part 2
Since it was only a half-day, they all went home for lunch and didn't return after that. Rachel had originally invited both Marinette and Adrien over for lunch at the hotel, but unfortunately only Marinette could take her up on that offer, because Adrien's father had other plans in mind.
And so it was just the two girls having lunch together.
For that matter, maybe it was a good thing that Adrien hadn't been able to join them for lunch today, because Marinette was still thinking about him a little too much…
"Ah, Adrien," Marinette sighed, looking all dreamy as she stared off into space.
Rachel smiled a little. Ah, the joys of having your first crush, she thought to herself.
"So," Rachel said, "what's your plan?"
That seemed to snap Marinette out of it. "Uh, I dunno!" she said, a little panicked. "What should we do first?"
"Just be yourself and get to know him better," Rachel casually advised her.
"But, well," Marinette said, a little nervously, "do you think I should do anything first? Maybe change my appearance?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know, maybe do something about my hair or change my wardrobe?"
Rachel took a moment to consider Marinette's little crisis of confidence. It sounded just like any girl's fretting over her appearance to attract the boys, but Rachel could also detect Marinette's natural shyness and meekness.
"I don't think that's necessary, Marinette," Rachel assured her. "I say just let your natural beauty show through and be yourself, and as long as you don't go around looking and acting like a crazy person, then I'm sure you'll be fine."
Marinette gave a small chuckle and a wry smile at Chloé's choice of words, but still didn't respond right away.
Rachel sighed. "For what it's worth, Marinette… there have been times when I might've been jealous of your looks."
Marinette jolted in her seat and turned to stare at her best friend in disbelief. "What!?" she blurted, before remembering where they were and keeping her voice down. "What, seriously? You're jealous of me? You're the one who looks like she should be on the cover of all these fashion magazines!"
Rachel nodded. She wasn't gaslighting Marinette, or purposely putting herself down just to make Marinette feel better; she felt that she was speaking the truth. "For what it's worth, Marinette, I think you've got this 'cute girl next door' thing going for you. But me? I dunno, I just don't like how I look all that much."
Marinette stared at her. "Why would you say that?"
"Basically? I just don't like this roundish face," she sighed, subconsciously rubbing her face. "I look too much like my mother, and you know how she looks with that default expression of hers." And then, as an afterthought, she looked down at the table and muttered, "I wish I were a little taller, too."
(Of course, the fact that this was all because she missed her old body in her previous life went unsaid. She wasn't proud or vain or arrogant, but there were many significant reasons why she definitely would have preferred keeping those Berenson genes over being stuck with these Bourgeois genes. And to think that, in her previous life, she wished she hadn't been too tall; oh the irony...)
Rachel was just thinking back to yesterday, and how she would have really loomed over that Irina girl if she'd been "Rachel Berenson" and not "Chloé Bourgeois," when she noticed that Marinette hadn't responded right away.
Marinette stared at her best friend, as if unable to believe what she was hearing. The blonde had never told her anything like this before.
The moment of awkward silence dragged out until...
"Oh, by the way, Chloé," Marinette said, as if just remembering something only now, "I actually wanted to show you something… I had this idea for a piece of jewelry, and I wanted to show you."
"Oh?" Rachel replied, becoming curious. "Do tell." (If Marinette was deliberately doing this to change the subject to something else, then Rachel would happily.)
Marinette pulled out her sketchbook and showed Rachel some rough sketches of a bracelet. It had three layers of beads, with one word on each layer but Rachel could quickly tell that it was triple-layered for a reason: So it could fully spell out a very familiar motto:
FLUCTUAT
NEC
MERGITUR
The Latin motto of the city of Paris — "Tossed, but not sunk." Rachel had seen that motto countless times before, and she'd especially seen it tossed around a lot more within the past few days since all this began.
Still, there was something about that classy old motto which spoke to her…
"Wow, it looks amazing," Rachel commented.
"I also colored it," Marinette added, flipping the page to show another sketch of it, this one colored and showing it tricolored like the French flag.
"Even more amazing," Rachel remarked. "What's it for?"
"Well," Marinette a little slyly, glancing sideways, "I was thinking maybe for your next birthday. I really think it would look good on you."
That took Rachel by surprise. She hadn't expected Marinette to so heavily hint at this for what was supposed to be a surprise on that wonderful day.
"Why, was there anything you particularly wanted, Chloé?" Marinette asked her.
Instantly, Rachel's mind thought of everything she couldn't have. Such thoughts ran through her head again: The power to morph again… a chance to know what happened to everybody else I used to know in my previous life… the power to morph again… this new supervillain taken down by the heroes… the power to morph again… a decent explanation for all this madness… and, oh yes, the power to morph again.
But of course she couldn't say any of that out loud.
"Chloé?" Marinette asked again.
Darn it, she'd zoned out again.
Rachel just shrugged. "Nothing in particular. You know I don't get greedy when it comes to gifts. But hey, if you all really want to get me something, you could do something together with the rest of the class."
But glancing over at Marinette, Rachel could see the gears in the young designer's head already turning. What sort of group activity was Marinette planning, and for what project which would take a dozen or so teenagers to make together? Rachel could only guess. The only thing she knew for certain was that whatever Marinette made, without or without any help from anybody else, it would be awesome.
"Duly noted," Marinette smiled, before changing the subject.
"You know, I've also been thinking about my, ahem, side-job."
Ah, there it was, code for Atelier #1600. "Yeah?" Rachel replied casually. "What about it?"
"It's doing really well so far, but I'm…"
But before Marinette could say anything else, someone else approached their table. They both looked up to see Mayor Bourgeois came standing next to them. "Hello, Chloé," he said with a smile, drawing his daughter into a hug and kissing her on the head.
"Hi, Dad," she said with a smile.
"And good to see you too, Marinette," he said, letting go of Rachel and shaking Marinette's hand.
"You too, Mr. Mayor!" she replied with a hearty handshake.
And then he happened to notice what Marinette was sketching. "Well, that looks good, and the Latin motto is a wonderful touch as well."
Marinette preened. "Thanks," she said.
And then he winked at his daughter, and the blonde knew what was coming next. Resisting the urge to groan aloud, she smiled politely as he said to Marinette: "Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum videtur."
Marinette gave a blank expression, and then her brow furrowed as she tried to work out what the mayor had just said, while the mayor looked expectantly at his daughter. After letting a small sigh escape, Rachel responded with a succinct, "Vero."
It was an inside joke between the two of them, father and daughter: André would repeat that line, which loosely translated meant something like "Everything sounds more profound in Latin," and then Chloé would give a short response which basically meant "Yes" or "Truly" or "Indeed" to affirm it.
But then Marinette seemed to realize or remember what had been said in Latin, and she must have remembered it from some earlier instance, and then she smiled. "Very clever."
While most fathers might tell "Dumb Dad Jokes," André Bourgeois liked to occasionally toss out Latin mottos and proverbs. He didn't do it just to sound smarter than he was; no, he honestly liked the topic and had taken plenty of classes in the classics when he was a student, way back when. He even had an entire collection of classical books, written in the original Latin or Greek.
"One of these days, Chloé," he would often say to her, "once I've retired, or at least from office, I'm going to sit down and finally finish reading every last one of those books."
Smiling again, Rachel decided to help move things along a little. "So, everything alright, Dad?" she asked politely.
"Of course, Chloé dear," he replied easily, "but can I steal your friend for a minute?"
Both girls shared a confused look. Sensing their hesitance, the mayor smoothly continued, "I was just wondering if I could ask Miss Dupain-Cheng for her opinion and expertise on a commission. I saw the new logo which she designed for her family's business, and I was wondering if she could do a similar job for us and the hotel. Maybe some of our designs and aesthetics could use an update."
Marinette exchanged a look with Rachel, who had no idea about this beforehand either. With an encouraging nod, Rachel gestured to Marinette to go with him.
"I say go for it, Marinette," she added. "Why pass up an opportunity like this to put another feather in your cap?"
Rachel even winked at Marinette to emphasize her point, and Marinette got the point; even though the young designer now had her own business up and running, she still had to put up the facade of a young student who had yet to break into the industry especially because she was still in school.
Getting some of her confidence back and tamping down whatever anxiety she had, Marinette nodded, smiled, and got up from her seat to go off and walk and talk with the mayor.
And with that, it left the daughter of said mayor sitting all by herself.
As much as she liked spending time with her best friend Marinette, Rachel now welcomed the relative solitude. If only because her mind wouldn't stop dwelling on Ms. Bustier's lesson.
It seemed that people in this world were somehow more resilient than in her past life in the other world, if only because superheroes and supervillains were a constant thing, and people couldn't be expected to waste all their time fretting about this or that. Even with a world-shaking crisis looming over everybody on a frequent basis, that couldn't stop people here from living their lives and doing their duties. Ms. Bustier had even mentioned a review of drills and emergency procedures in case of supervillain attacks.
I wonder if "alien invasion drills" would have become a thing after I was gone, Rachel thought to herself, supposing that the concept alone could have been funny but not finding the ability to laugh at it.
Still, maybe that was why neither Ivan nor Mylène nor Alya had taken Ms. Bustier up on her offer to not watch the movie after their ordeals the day before, despite the recurring thing in the movie with characters falling from deadly heights. But oh, how ironic was it, that it would end up being Chloé of all people who'd had good reason to not watch that movie because of the potential to relive bad memories? Not that anybody could have known that, of course.
And yet, it wasn't the first time when some teacher or another had touched upon a relevant issue during times of crisis…
Even now, Rachel could recall how, during the search-and-destroy mission for the Yeerks' new Kandrona generator, how the Ellimist had revealed himself to them for the first time and had even subtly manipulated one of their teachers to motivate them into action…
One of Rachel's teachers was going on about how different things might have been had the United States entered the Second World War sooner, and if that could have meant the war ending sooner and fewer people getting killed. According to the teacher, you couldn't really second-guess history.
But then things got interesting when Cassie asked Ms. Paloma if one really could second-guess history, to go back in time and change things.
Ms. Paloma sat on the edge of her desk and gave a reply…
"Because events are intertwined in ways we cannot always see, Cassie. Sometimes small things can make huge differences. You know, they say that a single butterfly, beating its wings in China, may affect the way the wind blows here in our country. A single butterfly beating its wings may make a tiny change that becomes a bigger change that becomes a tornado. The world isn't like math. It isn't just one plus one equals two. It's more complicated than that."
And then the oddest thing happened. Ms. Paloma looked right at Rachel, right into her eyes. "Much more complicated than that," Ms. Paloma said again. "A single butterfly… a single butterfly… a single butterfly…"
The hair on the back of Rachel's neck was tingling, and everyone was looking at the teacher like she was crazy.
Suddenly, Ms. Paloma shook her head, like she was popping out of a trance. She smiled a confused smile. "Okay, well, anyway, you all have the reading assignments."
The bell rang and Rachel practically jerked up out of her seat. She met up with Cassie outside the classroom, trying to figure out what had just happened...
It seemed obvious in retrospect that the Ellimist must have subtly manipulated their teacher in order to get the point across to Rachel and the other Animorphs, to get them to act and do something about it.
And that hadn't been the only occasion, either; she still recalled that one occasion where Crayak and his lackey the Drode had tried to tempt her with power one last time. At the time, she'd been dwelling over a certain traitor, a literal "rat" once the Animorphs were done with him, and how one of her literature teachers just had to discuss Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart" while that was happening…
She tried to stop thinking of it, lest her own heart start beating quickly and painfully from the stress in the here and now.
And now, just her luck, her new teacher in the here and now just had to go on about some halfway-decent French mystery novel and the domino effect it had set off decades ago, resulting in this entire conversation about things like the concept of impossible memory, and ruined futures, and jumping back and forth through time itself...
(Rachel closed her eyes and resisted the urge to shudder, her mind threatening to drag her back to that vision of the possible future which the Ellimist had shown the Animorphs, that ruined future where the Yeerks had won... and she got to see an older version of herself as an involuntary Controller.)
Rachel tried to stop thinking of her past and focus more on the present, but even the present only seemed to drag her back into the past, one way or another.
Even now, she remembered how she'd made those comments back in the classroom, if only to somehow contribute to the conversation because Ms. Bustier wanted all of her students to have a say and speak their minds. Perhaps she'd been a bit too harsh back in class with how she'd criticized Scottie for being unable to truly move on from Madeleine, a woman who he never really knew in the first place?
But then it got to that scene where Scottie forced Judy to alter her own appearance to make Scottie happy by making herself resemble Madeleine, and that really got Rachel. Not just because of Rachel's belief about how women shouldn't need to go through all that trouble and change themselves just to please men, not just because of this obsessive man's efforts to recreate a dead woman using another living woman in her stead... but because it reminded Rachel too much of how a small part of her wished that she could recreate her old friends here and now, as well as her own attempts to "recreate" herself as much as possible, now trapped in the body of one Chloé Bourgeois.
Did Rachel herself not constantly dress herself in the sorts of clothes she wore back in her previous life? Did she not always try to present herself as the normal teenage girl she used to be, as opposed to the upper-class rich girl she now was and everything that came with it? How many times did Rachel look in the mirror and see "Chloé" staring back at her, like an imitation of the girl she no longer was, which would only further annoy and disappoint Rachel?
She still got annoyed sometimes that she couldn't even get her hair to part the same exact way as when she was still Rachel! She figured that maybe it was because of the shape of her head as Chloé, or something like that.
And stuck within that head was this collection of memories, a past which couldn't be changed, which only she knew about...
And then Rachel recalled one of those other movies.
She briefly thought back to that short film La Jetée. She'd already watched that short film somewhere along the way in this life, and she recalled its bleak future, made to appear even bleaker in its black-and-white format, showing what looked like a bombed-out and ruined Paris… and she resisted the urge to think back again to that horrible future the Ellimist had shown them, the one where the Yeerks had won. She also devoutly hoped that nothing of the sort would happen here and now, involving Ladybug and Cat Noir fighting back against Hawk Moth.
Rachel couldn't help but feel the weight of experiences and memories all pressing down on her...
And then that quote from the movie 12 Monkeys came to mind again, that thing about it not being the past that changed but your perspective of it because you changed as a person.
But Rachel didn't know if she could change as a person, after how she'd been permanently and irreversibly changed by everything she'd experienced and endured before. Especially considering her situation, was "a normal life" even possible at this point?
She thought back again to Ms. Bustier's lecture about how that French novel went on to inspire one of the most famous movies of all time, and all the other movies which owed their existence to Hitchock's Vertigo one way or another. But she found herself thinking less about those three movies because of that thing with the tree and its rings, and more about that other movie, that more recent German flick that Nathaniel had mentioned: Phoenix.
Not that the class' resident artist could have known, but the mere description alone about that movie's female protagonist and her ordeal was enough to set Rachel off. A "dead" woman somehow "surviving" what should have been an absolutely fatal blow to the head…
Her own death as Rachel the Animorph flashed through her mind once again, with all the force and intensity of that polar bear's claw.
And the last thing she'd heard alive as Rachel the Animorph echoed in her mind once again:
‹You fight well, human.›
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, hunching over at the table and gripping her own arms.
Why is this happening to me? she silently asked herself for the umpteenth time. Why am I being forced to go through all this!?
And then a new voice cut through her thoughts: "Mademoiselle?"
Willing herself to remain calm and not jolt in surprise, Rachel calmly opened her eyes and looked up to see her butler standing there. From where she was sitting, she could tell that Jean was concerned and worried behind that mask of professionalism.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently in a low tone. "Are you feeling well?"
She subtly and furtively glanced around at all the other diners still eating their meals; if any of them had noticed her behavior, then she couldn't tell. "Yes, Jean, I'm fine," she said at last, relaxing a little and acting normal again. "Thank you for asking."
Jean nodded. "Of course, Mademoiselle. Also, it should please you to know that your father and Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng should be coming back shortly."
Rachel blinked. Had she really forgotten about that, because she'd been so overwhelmed by her own memories? She quickly checked the time and saw that it had only been a matter of minutes since her father and Marinette had left to discuss whatever it was.
"Thank you, Jean," she said with a small nod, and sure enough, there they were now. Marinette looked a little nervous and uncertain, but Rachel was certain that the other girl would be fine. And as for her father the mayor, he was his usual self.
"Thank you for letting me speak to your friend, Chloé," he told her with a smile. However, as Marinette was sitting back down again, André was leaning in and urgently whispering something to his daughter: "Also, Chloé, I know this is short notice, but I might need you to cover the front desk for a few hours or so, like up until suppertime."
Rachel was a little surprised, but she took it all in stride. "Yeah, sure thing," she replied. "Why, can I ask what's going on?"
Her father opened his mouth to respond, but just before he could say anything, a woman's shriek followed by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor diverted everybody's attention.
"Because of a scandal which I was hoping to avert and delay until we could get them outside. That, and one or two of our employees had to call out sick today, and so we're a little short-staffed." He said this as calmly and as dignified as he could, while the other guests' collective tantrum continued.
Well, Rachel thought to herself, at least there was one good thing about this unexpected development: Maybe now people here at the hotel would stop talking about her stunt with the supervillain yesterday and instead gossip about this.
Rachel simply watched as the bickering married (and possibly soon-to-be-divorced) couple were hastily escorted out by what looked like the majority of the hotel's staff, shouting at each other every step of the way in a language which Rachel couldn't immediately identify. Rachel briefly hoped that maybe it was Irina and her entourage, if only so that they wouldn't need to see her again, but alas, she wasn't so fortunate this time.
Once those people were out the door and their loud arguing couldn't be heard anymore, and after another moment of silence passed, conversation in the dining room started up again and went back to normal.
Marinette was just staring at the door where the couple had been forced to depart. "That's not right," she finally muttered.
"No, it isn't," Rachel agreed, "but then again, I've become too used to it by now."
"What was it you told me yesterday, Chloé?" Marinette recalled. "You've seen all sorts of quarrels here?"
"Eh," Rachel said dismissively, "call it an occupational hazard of the hospitality business."
Her father cleared his throat. "Yes, well," he continued, "can I rely on you to cover the desk for a few hours or so until the next person arrives in the evening?"
"Sure thing, Dad."
André smiled. "That's my girl," he said proudly, pulling her into a one-armed hug and kissing her on the forehead. As he withdrew, Jean leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The mayor cleared his throat and told the two girls, "And now, if you'll excuse me, duty calls."
As her father and butler walked off together to deal with something else, that left the two girls to talk with each other again.
"So," Rachel said slowly, trying to change the subject, "got room for dessert? We've got time for it."
Marinette burst out giggling at the way her best friend said it. "Sure, why not," she said, her voice still ringing a little from the giggles. After the giggling had completely subsided, Marinette suddenly looked a little serious again. "Actually, Chloé, there was something else I wanted to ask you…"
"Yes?"
"Earlier, when we were watching that movie in class… you seemed really uncomfortable. Did you want to talk about it?"
Rachel instantly thought back to their conversation yesterday afternoon on Marinette's balcony, and how they resolved it with their agreement not to press the other one about secrets and other serious issues. Rachel could tell that Marinette was clearly concerned, but didn't want to pry.
Before she could stop herself, Rachel was sighing and shaking her head. "No, nothing, it's just… well, it's just stupid really."
"What do you mean?" Marinette replied, her brow furrowed.
"It's just… well, it's kinda stupid, isn't it, how the past can have such a hold on us? Something you can't see or touch or hear or feel or whatever, but it's just there, hovering over you or standing right behind you."
What in the world was Rachel doing? Rachel didn't want Marinette to know the truth about herself, so why was she saying this?
Was she really that desperate to tell somebody about it?
"What, you mean like how that woman in the movie claimed she was being possessed by some ancestor of hers?" Marinette responded. "Even though it was all a scam and an act?" she then added, a little hastily.
"Yeah, something like that, I guess."
Now Marinette was giving her a funny look. "What?" Rachel asked, trying not to sound cross or confrontational.
Marinette shrugged and sighed. "It's all in the past, you know," she said at last. "I don't know what it is for you, but the past can only hurt you if you let it hurt you."
Now it was Rachel's turn to sigh. If only Marinette knew. "I know, I know… but in some cases, it's easier said than done."
Rachel really didn't want to discuss this anymore, but thankfully, Marinette had already moved onto a different topic of conversation.
"Anyway," Marinette spoke up, "about why your dad wanted to speak to me just now, and I don't just mean the possible new designs for the hotel…"
Curiosity piqued, Rachel leaned forward. "Yeah?"
Marinette also leaned forward and whispered, "He knows."
Rachel felt a small spike in panic but still kept calm. "Is that a problem?" she whispered back.
Marinette pulled back again and shrugged. "No, it shouldn't be," she said quietly. "He said he couldn't help but notice some little things which added up after a while. Still, he reassured me that my secret was safe with him."
"It was the family lawyer giving you that one-time lecture about Intellectual Property law and how to set up your own business, wasn't it?" Rachel muttered, not muttering it out of negativity but just to keep quiet about it here in the dining room.
Marinette hummed and nodded. "That, among other things." But looking Rachel straight in the eye, the ravenette said, "But don't worry about it, Chloé. We knew it was possible that your dad knew, and better that it be him than, say, someone else."
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not worried," Rachel reassured her friend, also pulling back a little. "I know he won't spill the beans on that one."
Marinette nodded again, and smiled a little too. "Still, now that we've got out of the way… I wanted to ask you something else, on a related note. It's what I wanted to tell you about before your father asked me to speak with him"
"Oh?" Rachel replied, arching an eyebrow. "And what grand plan does the designer have this time?"
Marinette smiled a little shyly, but then pulled it together and got straight to the point. "Business has really been doing well for me, even for my own small one-woman operation. Well, 'one woman' plus her parents helping with some of the paperwork and legal stuff because she's still a minor," she added with a small chuckle. "Still, we both know I'm going to need to expand sooner or later, and I'm going to need a financial officer."
And with the pointed look which Marinette was giving her best friend, there was no way that Rachel could have missed what she was getting at. Still, Rachel found herself humbled. "You want me to do it?" Rachel asked softly, if only for clarification more than anything else.
"Mm-hmm," Marinette nodded, grinning. "Who else would I choose? And I'm not just asking that rhetorically."
"I'm honored," Rachel said truthfully. "I didn't say anything because I just wanted to stand back and let you do your own thing with your business."
"Oh, so you didn't try to help me become a dark horse in the fashion world just so you could get yourself a job with me as a Chief Financial Officer?" Marinette asked coyly.
Rachel resisted the urge to snort out loud. Marinette had come a long way from being a shy and timid girl who sometimes ended up being a magnet for bullies, although seeing her acting all sneaky like this was still a rare occurrence. "I did it because you're my friend, and because the world would be a poorer place for it without your contributions to it," Rachel said with complete honesty and sincerity.
Marinette smirked at the blonde. "Oh, don't worry, I know," she replied. "And don't worry about your involvement in it too, it never felt like you were trying to muscle your way in."
Rachel nodded with a relieved smile. Scant traces of little Chloé Bourgeois, and how she sometimes could have been a bossy brat even when meaning well and trying to help her friends, still echoed in her memory, but Rachel tuned them out.
And with that, they finished up the main course, and dessert arrived shortly after that.
"Oh, and by the way," Marinette added as a platter of exquisite artisan cookies was laid out before them, "I wanted to ask if everything was alright with Alya."
Rachel's mind flitted back to that, not expecting Marinette to bring it up now. "Yeah, good thing I was there, huh? Alya just needed someone to be there for her."
Marinette smiled, that kind of smile which inspired other people and lifted up even when they were trapped in drudgery. "Yeah, good thing you were there," Marinette agreed. "You have this talent for knowing what to say to help people."
No I'm not, I'm a basketcase myself who's barely keeping it together, Rachel thought to herself, but kept that thought clamped down within her own mind. All the same, she smiled back at Marinette and kindly said, "Don't sell yourself short, Marinette; you've also got this knack for lifting people's spirits."
Something about the new girl drew Rachel to her, and it wasn't just trying to comfort her in the middle of being homesick. No, maybe it also had to do with Alya's personality and attitude. Alya Césaire was just that determined to do whatever it took to get ahead and succeed. She was the kind of girl who was willing and ready to smash through walls in order to achieve her goals.
Kind of like me, Rachel thought to herself.
Now that was a scary thought.
Rachel was now thinking back to her encounter with Alya in the girls' restroom, and how badly she wanted to comfort Alya, and let the other girl know that she herself knew what it felt like to be cut off from the people and places one called "home"... but of course she couldn't, because of her big secret.
Even now, Rachel could recall the few tears she'd dared to shed herself when Alya wasn't looking, because the other girl was crying into her shoulder at those moments. Alya couldn't have known it, but her words and woes about being separated from old friends and family had really hit Rachel right in the heart.
It showed just how much Rachel missed everybody and everything she used to know...
Sensing where this train of thought was going, Rachel forced herself to stop thinking about it before she started thinking too much about her previous life and made herself even more "homesick" for it. It had taken all of her own strength and willpower at the time not to completely break down herself along with Alya back in the girls' restroom at the school.
Thank goodness that she was so resilient, Rachel thought to herself.
Sure enough, it was soon time to go; Marinette was headed back home, and now Rachel had that impromptu shift at the front desk.
Marinette made to get up from her seat, but before she fully stood up, she then had a different look on her face. "Hey, Chloé? I don't know if this is proper or not, but do you mind if I take some of these cookies and biscuits home with me? They're really good."
Rachel couldn't tell where this sudden change came from, but she didn't press the issue. "Sure, knock yourself out," she said with a gentle sweep of her hand.
While Marinette carefully wrapped and put a few of the sweets in her purse, Rachel took a moment to wonder why this seemed so weird to her. But after a moment, she decided that it wasn't really important, and so she let it slide.
"So," Marinette was saying, "we'll talk more later?"
Rachel nodded. "I'll let you know when my shift is over, and we can talk more then." And then, with a coy smile, Rachel added, "We can also plan how to make things work out between you Adrien…"
Marinette tried to hide her own smile as her face turned a rosy pink.
The two of them walked to the door together, and after sharing a quick sisterly hug, Marinette was off and walking back to her own home.
And that left Rachel to get ready for her upcoming shift at the front desk...
Within the hour, she was all dressed up and doing precisely that.
A few years ago, after remembering everything, Rachel had decided that she wanted to be more productive and helpful. So one day, she approached her father, the mayor and asked him if she could do anything to help around the hotel. He was surprised to hear this idea from his daughter, and when he asked her about it, she explained that she wanted to not only learn more about the business, but also contribute to it. Her reasoning was that if her best friend Marinette could help her own parents from behind the counter at their place of business, then why not Chloé herself too?
But the more André thought about this idea, the more he liked it. He always assumed that he would really take his daughter under his wing once she was done with lycée and was no longer a minor to show her how to do things, but if she was volunteering to start learning much sooner… Well, then why not?
And young Chloé Bourgeois did a great job as an official employee, first by running the front desk as a hostess and eventually helping her father with other tasks around the hotel. Before long, she was helping in other aspects like accounting and learning other business procedures. And as for André Bourgeois, he couldn't have been prouder of his daughter. He could go to bed each night and sleep easily, knowing that the Bourgeois family business and fortune was in good hands for when Chloé would eventually inherit it. (Never mind the fact that Chloé had never explicitly said that she wanted to take over when she came of age, but he was still happy and content with those thoughts.) Indeed, André Bourgeois was very pleased by all of this.
(Of course, what he didn't know was that his daughter did it more for rather selfish reasons of her own: to feel responsible, to stay productive and keep her mind occupied so that she wouldn't think too much about her previous life and all the violent battles in a war with evil aliens, and to atone in any way she could for her sins from that war.)
And so now the hotel heiress was running the front desk, doing her homework as she kept an eye out for guests as well as the telephone and computer sitting on the counter. Watch the floor for anyone approaching or looking like they needed help, glance at the phone, read a page, write down some notes or answers, turn the page, glance up at the floor again… she had a system and it worked.
Taking a quick break from her homework, Rachel put that aside and pulled out a big binder with lots of different colored tabs sticking out of the side. It was a "journal" of sorts, one which she kept; it contained useful phrases in all sorts of languages, and quite useful considering the international clientele which Le Grand Paris could attract.
(She also kept a wholly separate binder in her bedroom, filled with profanities and curses and other dirty words from all those same languages. The dirty stuff was always half the fun in learning any new language.)
Sure enough, she'd gotten a few requests and questions from guests…
"Which museums would you recommend we visit during our stay?"
"Do you mean including the Louvre or aside from that? I can make a few suggestions, depending on which kind of art you like the most…"
"My pillows aren't fluffy enough! I won't be able to sleep a wink!"
"Don't worry, sir, we'll make sure we get only our best pillows up to your room right away…"
"Mademoiselle, we are going to the opera, and we request your most expensive wine chilled in our room when we return."
"Of course, sir and madame, and please enjoy your evening at the opera…"
Normally, Rachel wouldn't have suffered fools gladly, but she figured that she could use the experience in having to deal with infuriating and insufferable people. That, and she could also consider it atoning for her past deeds.
And the fact that nobody was bringing up her reckless stunt from yesterday made things much better.
But it was near the end of her shift when she got the biggest surprise of all...
"Good evening," a Dutch-accented voice addressed her in flawless French, "it's good to see you again, MademoiselleBourgeois."
Brow furrowed, Rachel picked up on the vaguely familiar voice the claim of familiarity between the two of them, and then looked up to see a familiar face which she remembered, and not in an entirely pleasant way.
He was an older gentleman with hair as white as freshly driven snow, and in Rachel's honest opinion, he could almost pass for Santa Claus, albeit without that iconic red suit and all that body fat. His wrinkly old face bore a kindly smile befitting one's elderly uncle or grandfather. She knew this guest well and she always liked him, but it was his name which made her jolt.
Mr. Visser.
In what had to be either a complete cosmic coincidence or some kind of sick joke deliberately put in place just for her, this kindly old man just happened to share the same name as Rachel's old nemesis Visser Three in his most commonly-used human morph.
Although, to be fair, the "Mr. Visser" standing before Rachel here and now in Le Grand Paris looked nothing like the Yeerk warlord in his own "Mr. Visser" alias, or any of the other human morphs which the Animorphs had ever seen him use. But the name alone was enough to make her uncomfortable.
"Mademoiselle?" Rachel heard his voice calling, as if from far away. "Are you alright?"
Rachel snapped out of it and immediately acted normal again. "Oh, right, I'm sorry, Monsieur Visser," she said at last. Smiling again, she said, "Pardon me, I was just a little surprised. I wasn't expecting you to come in today, and you're right, it's been quite a while."
Mr. Visser chuckled softly. "About a decade ago by my count. And look at you now, what a responsible young lady! I still remember when I first met you, what with you scampering about the hotel..."
And now Rachel remembered that all too well, as she tried not to cringe at that particular memory…
There had been times, before she got all her memories back after her twelfth birthday as Chloé Bourgeois, when she should remember things from her previous life as Rachel Berenson but have no context for these things, and then quickly forget about them. And in one of those instances, a five-year-old Chloé Bourgeois heard the name "Mr. Visser" when her father tried to introduce the older man, felt herself being filled with this feeling of indescribable dread and terror, and promptly ran away screaming to hide in her bedroom.
André Bourgeois had been rather embarrassed by his daughter's unforeseen and inexplicable behavior, and little Chloé had sincerely apologized to the elderly Dutchman for her behavior, but Mr. Visser had good-naturedly brushed it off.
Years later, when she got her other memories back, Rachel would reflect on all the embarrassing things she said or did before then, and particular ones like those would really stand out in her mind. The innocent man's last name was merely the Dutch word for "fisherman" and a common Dutch surname at that… but the fact that it was also the Yeerk word for something like "overlord" or "general" and thus reminded her of her vile nemesis was a horrible coincidence.
And now, once again, Rachel was talking to an innocent man who, through no fault or knowledge of his own, reminded her of her darkest times and experiences.
Rachel forced herself to relax and focus.
It's not the visser, not that stupid evil alien slug, she forcefully reminded herself. It's just a familiar face and a longtime client of the hotel, as well as an old friend of your father's.
"Well, Mr. Visser, it's good to have you back," she said politely and good-naturedly, as if there was nothing wrong at all. Tilting her head a little in curiosity, she asked, "So, what brings you back here to our lovely hotel?"
"Well, I wanted to come back here anyway," Mr. Visser said, "but then I heard about your new problem with the new supervillain, and wanted to offer my support as a structural engineer."
Right, of course, now she remembered: Brecht Visser was one of the foremost authorities on structural engineering and disaster preparedness and mitigation. The blonde recalled her father saying something this past summer about needing to make sure that all the buildings in Paris were up to code, and there was no better time than now to do it. And all that was before Hawk Moth emerged.
"...of course, I doubt that the Seine will overflow and flood the city, but it couldn't hurt just to look things over," Mr. Visser was saying.
"Of course," Rachel said goodnaturedly, smiling a little. "Well, however long you'll be here and whatever you do, I hope you enjoy your stay at our hotel."
"I always do," the old man smiled back.
And before either of them could say anything else, another man's voice carried across the room to them: "Brecht? Brecht Visser, is that really you!?"
Sure enough, Mayor Bourgeois was proudly striding over to the front desk and strongly shaking hands with his guest and old friend. The two men were exchanging pleasantries, and Rachel just watched on, bemused.
Once the two men were done with that, Rachel went through the motions of checking in Mr. Visser and giving him the key to his room. But the genial Dutchman had one last thing to say regarding her: "It's good to see you again, Chloé, and keep up the good work! I don't even need to ask your father about it to know how proud he is of you."
Rachel just gave him what they interpreted as a shy smile, although inside she somehow felt rotten at his well-meaning words of praise. But she kept up the smile as an act of gratitude, especially as her father swelled with pride. She felt quietly relieved when the two men walked off together, with her father leading the way.
And so the rest of her shift continued without incident.
Although things did look a bit dicey at one point when Irina Afanasyeva strolled through the lobby as if she were a Russian czarina, loudly and obnoxiously commenting about how she'd been unimpressed with some tour she'd taken today. Apparently, while her own father was trying to choose "only the best school in Paris" for his daughter to attend, Irina herself had gone on a tour of the Louvre and was apparently not impressed by it.
"I wonder if Alix or any of her family had to deal with her," Rachel quietly mused. She decided to call them later, after her shift was done.
Thankfully for Rachel, Irina hadn't noticed her currently running the front desk, and the hotel owner's daughter was grateful for it. Once Irina was gone, they were blessed with relative peace and quiet once again, and things carried on as usual.
As her shift ended and the intended employee came to replace her, she made a beeline for her room and changed back out of uniform. Not sure what else to wear, she just changed back into the gray ensemble from earlier.
She still had some time to kill before dinner, so Rachel thought she'd go pound her reliable punching bag to relieve all that stress.
But as she threw a few wild punches at it just because, her eyes wandered back to her nice big screen TV… and the various video game systems hooked up to it.
During those first few months after getting her memories back, she'd considered investing in a video game system, if only to play some of the same games which her friends and classmates also liked (including video game franchises which hadn't existed in her previous life, like the Ultimate Mecha Strike fighting game series).
But in order to truly indulge in some violent video games, if only to work out all that aggression of hers, she'd even created a wholly different online account to play those games. She didn't want or need anybody else like her friends seeing her gamer profile and taking note of all the time spent playing those games and all the achievements or trophies earned in some of the most violent video games on the market.
No, if anybody looked at the "official" gamer profile for Chloé Bourgeois, then it would only show mostly exercise and workout games, some Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 as well, and maybe a few other cutesy and wholesome video games thrown in for good measure.
And at one point she'd even tried the Halo video game franchise.
At first, it had seemed like a good idea: Why not try to purge some of her leftover rage and fury against her alien enemies by taking it out on make-believe enemies? Just replace the Yeerk Empire with the Covenant, and eh, close enough. And she'd had fun with it for the most part, blasting her way through one game after another, but also feeling some anxiety at major character deaths along the way.
True, she'd been a little bothered by the parasitic Flood as well as the occasional character deaths meant to give the story some gravitas, but she'd stuck through it and put all her frustrations back into the violent video game.
But then it got to that one point in the campaign mode of the prequel game Halo: Reach when the first member of Noble Team kicked the bucket.
Poor Noble Five, sacrificing himself and dying all alone on an alien spaceship… it definitely triggered Rachel. She'd even ripped the power cord out of the electrical socket in a fit of anger and forced herself to calm down.
And watching most of the rest of Noble Team die one by one, culminating in her own character Noble Six getting swarmed in what was known as a "Bolivian Army Ending" which you weren't supposed to beat or even survive… the game had barely ended when she'd ejected the game disc and thrown it across the room.
From that point on, whenever she'd felt the need to satiate her bloodlust with some violent video game or another, Rachel would go with some of the earlier titles for the Doom series or the Wolfenstein series. At least those didn't really bother with plot and just threw you straight into the action.
Not for the first time, Rachel contemplated the small irony: She'd ignored these same video games in her previous life as they were coming out brand-new, but now she was favoring them over their latest modern titles for their violent simplicity. Forget the plot, just let her have her fun, as violent and bloody as it was.
Still, maybe choosing these violent First-Person Shooter (FPS) games just for a chance to kill aliens or demons or zombies or Nazis or whatever wasn't the only thing she could do. She also found herself purposely seeking games where her character could transform into animals, or at least summon them and have some kind of control over them.
Rachel started off by Diablo 2 and specifically played as a Druid in that game just to summon animals. However, even she eventually got bored of all the make-believe killing and looked into more wholesome titles.
She'd also played Pokémon quite a bit in this life (mostly thanks to Adrien, big dork that he was), and she thought that she still had the old game cartridges lying around somewhere…
Weirdly enough, playing those Shantae games also satisfied her shape-shifting itch, because the titular heroine got to transform into various other animals.
Rachel smiled and chuckled to herself as she recalled the last time Marinette had caught her playing one of those Shantaegames. In a sudden moment of silliness, Marinette had imitated some of Shantae's lines of dialogue from whatever game Rachel was playing at that moment, and the resulting imitation was so uncannily similar that it had sent both girls falling over laughing.
But then her smile faded a little as she looked back at the video game consoles again. After she'd played through most of those violent video games back then, she'd gotten rid of the hard copies, given them away… but now she was wondering if maybe she should have kept them, just in case.
And then a knock at the door got her attention, bringing her out of those musings.
"Mademoiselle?" her butler's voice called through the door.
"Yes, Jean?"
"Your father wants to have dinner together with you, and now he has time to do it. Please be ready to join him by the top of the hour."
"Thanks, Jean!"
With not much else to do until then, Rachel sent a quick message to her classmates in a group chat on her smartphone. Sit tight, I'll ask him over dinner.
Not sure what else to wear for dinner with her father, Rachel changed back into that nice new light gray ensemble which she liked so much.
Shortly thereafter, she was meeting up with him in a private dining room to eat with him.
"Good evening, Chloé!"
"Thanks, you too, Dad!"
"Well, shall we begin?"
And with that, they dug into yet another excellent meal prepared by the wonderful head chef Marlena Césaire. They both decided to try the Chicken Marengo tonight, and they were both pleased with the results.
The Bourgeois patriarch had also surprised his daughter by having Jean come over to them with a bottle of red wine, one which she recognized as being from a very expensive brand.
"Wow, what's the occasion?" Rachel commented by way of a question.
"Ah, not much of one, really," Mr. Bourgeois openly admitted. "I just wanted to enjoy another wonderful dinner with my daughter."
She didn't think much of it, but she also gave the bottle of wine a slight wary look.
Rachel wasn't really a teetotaler, but she definitely wasn't big into drinking alcohol either. That mostly had to do with her mother in this life; Audrey Bourgeois wasn't a drunk and nobody had ever witnessed the Style Queen drinking irresponsibly or going around drunk, but given how often she tended to strut around holding a vessel like a wine glass in one hand, Rachel had to wonder if alcoholism was something to be worried about or if it ran in the family.
Of course, the last thing Rachel wanted was for her unbelievable secret to get out, and as the old saying went: In vino, veritas.
Still, Rachel would sometimes accept small glasses of wine at dinnertime, partially to try something new and get the most out of life, but mostly just to follow convention and customs.
Rachel then heard a grunt and looked over to see her father looking a little disappointed as he stared at the label on the bottle. "Dad, what's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
He sighed a little. "Nothing, really," he responded. "Somehow, the last bottle of Romanée Conti in stock was already taken."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, although her father didn't see it because he was still focusing on the wine bottle itself. Even though André Bourgeois had become more responsible in the past few years, he still had a tendency to splurge a little and still give into that desire to treat those he cared about to the nicest things. "Dad, I'm sure that the… Pétrus will be just fine," she said, briefly pausing her words just to lean over and glance at the bottle herself to see what brand it was.
Then he smiled and chuckled. "You're right, dear, you're right," he said, bemused. "And, if I recall correctly, the next shipment will be coming in a day or two anyway."
As Jean came over to open the wine and pour it out for them, Rachel thought to herself: Leave it to him to despair over not having the most expensive wine on hand and having to settle for the second best instead! Still, at least he did it because he cared. Speaking out loud, Rachel quipped, "We'll just save a few more bottles of it for ourselves and hide them in a safe place. Maybe we could hide them in my wardrobe, or maybe even the hotel's exercise room"
Her father laughed softly at that. "Very funny, Chloé," he remarked. Raising his glass, he said, "Salute."
"Salute," she replied in kind.
They acted as a father and his daughter should act together over the dinner table, talking pleasantly and discussing how their day had gone.
"It's a good thing that I was already going over safety protocols and guidelines for the city anyway, even before all this happened," her father was saying. "It was really good timing, especially since now people won't say I'm just reacting to the threat."
"So it makes you look more proactive than reactive," Rachel commented. "Gotcha."
"And I don't just mean the usual basic safety protocols, but also the stuff for how to handle supervillain attacks," the mayor elaborated. "We have some documents on file that are so old that we literally had to blow the dust off of them!"
"Is there anything new we could add to them?" Rachel asked out of honest curiosity.
"Eh, not really," he said with a shrug. "It mostly boils down to 'just stay out of the way and let the heroes deal with it.'"
Even though he didn't say anything wrong or anything pointed towards her, she still flinched a little out of guilt. Her father immediately noticed this and, slipping back into an old habit, tried to placate her: "Chloé dear, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"
"No, Dad, don't worry, it's fine," she sighed, shaking her head. "I know, it was dumb, and we had this conversation yesterday. I still don't know what exactly I was thinking."
"It's fine, dear, I wasn't trying to dredge it up again," the mayor said, patting her hand with his own.
She silently nodded. And with that, they dropped the subject and moved on to other topics instead.
"So, what did you do in school today?" her father asked her.
Nothing wrong with that, just an ordinary question which any parent would ask their child… but Rachel really didn't want to think about those movies again. So she told an incomplete truth while not actually lying: "We were discussing all these modern French novels and some of the movies they inspired. Ms. Bustier also went into some detail about how they differ in some ways from their counterparts in other languages or countries."
The mayor nodded. He liked suspense and mystery stories just fine, but she knew that he had a stronger fondness for older tales of the ancient mythic and epic variety.
Towards the end of the meal, after they were done with the main course but waiting for dessert to arrive, she decided to finally broach the subject with him.
"Hey, Dad?"
"Yes, Chloé?"
"Would it be alright if I invited my class over here after school on Saturday? Maybe we could use the rooftop pool while the weather is still good?"
André looked thoughtful. "I don't see why not, Chloé, but I'm just curious what brought this on."
"I think we just need a morale booster, and I want to do something nice for them," Rachel said smoothly. "Besides, it makes sense to take advantage of the weather while it's still good."
André shrugged. "Sounds fine to me. Just so long as they know the ground rules and don't disturb the other guests, it's all fine with me."
Rachel smiled. "Thanks, Dad."
And with that, the dishes of tropical fruit sorbet arrived, and Rachel made a note to wait until they were completely done before messaging all of her classmates about it.
It was only on her way back to her room that Rachel sent the message. It's a go; Dad says OK. Bring your swim gear in your bag, and we can all go over to the hotel after class ends around noon.
Within a moment, most of her classmates were replying.
But there were still a few who had yet to confirm: Alya, Adrien, and Nathaniel.
Some minutes later, Alya finally replied: Thanks, girl, I'll be there! You're the best!
Rachel smiled ruefully as she still waited on the other two boys to reply.
Many more minutes after that, Adrien finally replied: Father says fine, but he might have my bodyguard check in just to make sure that I'm alright.
Rachel immediately responded: Don't worry, Adrien, I'll make sure that we make the most out of your time here.
She smirked to herself as she recalled just how to bend Adrien's bodyguard's will to get what they wanted out of him: Superhero action figures. Fortunately, Rachel still had quite a few very nice superhero figurines stashed away in a very safe place for such an occasion. And if The Gorilla had tried to protest too much… well, then it would be time to roll out the big guns.
But she was still waiting on a response from Nathaniel.
Hey, Nathaniel, what about you?
She patiently waited for a response, and found herself getting a bit agitated by the lack of a response.
Finally, Nathaniel responded: I might be doing something that day, but as soon as I figure it out, I'll let you know.
Well, at least it hadn't been a solid "no," so that was good. But that was fine, because Rachel could wait.
And why do you care so much whether or not that boy in particular shows up too? a little voice asked her.
She found herself not wanting to think about that.
Instead, Rachel got changed into some workout gear and decided to go at it with the punching bag again. Her personal instructor for Krav Maga was still away on vacation or visiting family or something for another week or so, but fencing lessons would still be coming up again shortly.
She was just wondering what to do now before she went to bed, but then her cell phone rang. It was an incoming call from Alya.
"Hello, Alya?"
"Girl, you're not going to believe this!" Alya's voice came through, loud and clear. "I think I saw Ladybug and Cat Noir running around on some rooftops! I think they're heading your way!"
"Really?" Rachel responded, taken by surprise and not expecting a call like this. "That's interesting, Alya. Thanks for telling me!"
"Hurry, Chloé, take a look out your window!" Alya urged her. Rachel was just about to respond when she heard something in the background on Alya's end. Alya then said, "Sorry, I need to get back to something here on my end, but I just wanted to let you know!"
"Thanks, Alya, that's, er, very nice of you," Rachel got out. "Oh, and I hope you're doing better now. Did you manage to contact anybody back in Martinique?"
"Oh yeah, everything is fine now, I spoke to them a lot!" Alya said happily. "Okay, sorry, but I really gotta run now! Cheers!"
And with that, Alya hung up.
With her curiosity getting the better of her, Rachel strode over to the window to look outside.
A moment too late, and she would have missed it: With their silhouettes against the moon in the darkening sky with the onset of evening, she saw Ladybug jumping from one rooftop to the next and using her yo-yo to propel herself and swing around corners, while Cat Noir followed behind her and used his own stick like a pole vault to gain height.
Rachel just stood there and watched them until they were out of sight. Once they were gone, she mused about how much she missed being an Animorph, and not just for the action and the importance of fighting evil, but also for those little moments when those same special powers could be used for brief episodes of freedom.
She recalled how the two new superheroes moved so freely, running faster and jumping higher than any normal human being could, and wondered if it was anything like flying.
"Lucky them," she muttered, a little bitterly. She knew it was stupid and petty, and that envy wasn't becoming of her, but she just couldn't help it; she missed what she once had…
But then she looked at her headboard again and saw that picture which Alya took yesterday, showing herself standing side-by-side with Adrien and Marinette. She closed her eyes and sighed; as much as she missed her old life, she couldn't bring herself to give up everything she had going for herself in this one either.
Speaking of which…
Rachel called Marinette on her smartphone, but instead got Marinette's voicemail.
"Hi, Marinette, I just wanted to say that it was great having lunch with you, just wanted to check in and see if you wanted to talk about Adrien."
For some reason, she found herself feeling a little annoyed that Marinette wasn't there to answer her call, but she brushed it aside.
She's probably just busy again, Rachel thought to herself.
But then when she tried to call Adrien, it was the same thing.
"Hi, Adrien, just checking in with you again. Call me back whenever. Have a nice evening."
Probably just his father dumping more "private lessons" on him, she thought to herself. Yeah, that must have been it.
Then Rachel noticed multiple unread texts from the rest of her class, mostly asking questions about the confirmed pool party. Taking her mind off her two best friends for a moment, she turned attention to this other matter instead...
Marinette needed a break. She got all her homework done and stayed on top of all her stuff with Atelier #1600, and she felt like she needed to get out of there.
She just hoped that she'd be able to juggle all these responsibilities, being a superhero along with handling all these responsibilities in her ordinary life.
She even thought back to how Chloé suggested that she try and run for class representative this year. While Marinette didn't think she'd do a bad job of it, she didn't think she could handle yet one more responsibility on top of everything else.
Feeling the need to get out for a bit, she left her home, told her family that she'd be going out for a walk, ducked into a dark corner and so she could transform into Ladybug.
"Um, Marinette!" Tikki spoke up from within her purse.
"Yes, Tikki?"
"Just so you know, and maybe I should have told you this sooner before everything got hectic with Stoneheart, but the Miraculous are not meant to be used for selfish purposes. Sometimes there can even be consequences for using them for the wrong reasons."
Marinette blinked as she processed the kwami's words. "So… are you telling me that I shouldn't transform just now so I can go run around the city as Ladybug?"
Tikki mulled over Marinette's question before finally answering, "Merely 'running around the city as Ladybug' shouldn't be a problem, but if it was used for truly selfish reasons, like merely using those powers for the sake of it, or even bothering and harassing other people for selfish reasons, then it would be a bad idea."
"The thought never crossed my mind, Tikki," Marinette reassured her kwami.
"I believe you, Marinette," Tikki said with a smile. "Still, just don't let yourself get carried away with all that power."
"I won't, Tikki. So, are we good to go? Did you eat enough?"
"Yes, and thanks again for those wonderful cookies from lunch, Marinette!" Tikki chirped.
"You're welcome, Tikki," Marinette said politely, but at the same time also thinking back to how awkwardly she'd asked, asking Chloé if she could save those cookies so she could smuggle them to Tikki. Fortunately, her best friend either didn't notice or didn't seem to care, and so Marinette was relieved about that.
Once she was certain that nobody was watching, she transformed.
"Tikki, transform me!"
And with that, she was off and away.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been raised responsibly and with the morals and ethics to take responsibility seriously, but she couldn't deny that running around on the rooftops of Paris and swinging from one place to the next was a lot of fun.
She was also worried that she would be clumsy and seriously mess up and get herself or anybody else hurt, but thankfully that had yet to happen. Her sense of balance had never been better, which she aptly demonstrated as she jumped up and down to and from high roofs and through narrow spaces like between chimneys and antennae.
I'd better not let this power go to my head, she kept thinking to herself.
She wondered if she would run into Cat Noir again sometime soon, hopefully outside of a battle against another akumatized minion created by Hawk Moth. That probably wouldn't be such a bad idea, as then the two of them could coordinate more and truly begin to work together as a team.
Ladybug felt a little funny as she thought about Cat Noir, especially with the small pep talk he'd given her at the Eiffel Tower yesterday when she was doubting herself too much. He seemed to genuinely care about her, not only as a partner in fighting against evil, but also as a person.
Whoever he is behind the mask, I hope he's up to the challenge, she thought to herself.
And then she noticed the Agreste manor off in the distance, and she wondered if Adrien was home.
Adrien…
She could feel the blush threatening to spread across her face, and she tamped it down. She was tempted to go over and visit him like this, but then after thinking about it for only a moment, she decided not to do it. After all, how would it look if Ladybug decided to pay Adrien Agreste a visit, when the two of them had never met before? As far as everybody else was concerned, there was no logical reason for Ladybug to be doing anything like that.
And so as the sun continued to set and the afternoon gave way to the evening, she continued to run across Paris. She even ran by Le Grand Paris Hotel at one point.
But as she ran by the hotel, she wondered if she should pay Chloé a visit as Ladybug, if only to check up on her after the events of yesterday, as well as maybe remind the other girl to stay out of trouble's way.
After briefly thinking it over, Ladybug decided not to do that either. It was probably best just to leave it alone for now. Besides, it already sounded like Chloé had been reprimanded enough for her recklessness during the bout against Stoneheart.
And so the city's newest superheroine continued to run across the city, letting it double as a patrol…
Once he was done with all of his homework, and his piano lessons, and a lonely supper which his father couldn't be bothered to attend, Adrien wondered what he should do next.
Plagg was just lazing about, finishing off a piece of smelly cheese. Adrien was just about to ask Plagg to please be careful with that stuff, when he noticed a very familiar red shape running across some rooftops in the distance.
"Hey Plagg," he spoke up, "would it be alright if I use my new powers to run around outside? Just to patrol the city, of course."
"Yeah, sure, I don't see why not," Plagg said after he'd swallowed the last piece of his cheese.
Adrien's bright smile couldn't be contained. Permission granted, he thought to himself. "Great!
"Plagg, transform me!"
"Wait, what!?" Plagg exclaimed in shock, just before getting sucked into the ring.
A moment later, Cat Noir was climbing out of the window and jumping off into the approaching evening.
He wanted to do his part as a hero and patrol the city to keep it safe… but he also really wanted to meet up with Ladybug.
Ladybug…
He couldn't deny it: When it came to her, he was one smitten kitten.
Logically, he knew that Ladybug must have had a real name and a civilian life behind the mask, but the way he saw it, she had to be a great person in ordinary life too. No way she could be someone horrible in real life!
He was determined to make "Ladybug and Cat Noir" a real dream team, as they fought side-by-side against evil. They were both chosen to fight Hawk Moth, so they must have been meant for each other, right?
Or so Cat Noir wanted to believe.
But back to the present… Cat Noir guessed that Ladybug must have been running around to patrol the city, just like him. Still, it couldn't hurt just to get her attention and talk to her for a few moments, would it?
He tried to get close to her just to call out to her, but she was too far away. And just when it looked like he was getting close, she turned a corner and then… she was gone.
Cat Noir did a double take and looked around from his new perch atop this random building. Where could she have gone?
He hated to admit it, but maybe she could have detransformed and gone back to her civilian identity.
Oh well, there was always next time.
But as for going back home… Cat Noir would take his sweet time making his way back to the manor.
If only he could be a superhero full-time… given the choice, he would rather spend all of his time as the heroic and clever superhero Cat Noir than as the obedient and controlled Adrien Agreste.
Still, it wasn't all bad. At least he had his friends, especially Chloé and Marinette.
And at that moment, he felt a little funny as he recalled how he gallantly walked her home in the rain yesterday, that short stroll from the school to her home. He was just being a gentleman and a good friend to her.
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he slowly and carefully made his way back home...
Much later that evening, Rachel tried to lift her spirits up and focus on the positives of everything going on right now.
Yes, there were now villains running amok, but there were also heroes there to stop them. She may have felt alone, but at least she still had a support network, composed of friends and family whom she could trust.
...Although whether or not she could safely tell any of them her big secret was another issue entirely.
Girl, you fought an alien invasion and won… well, even if you went down fighting at the end. You can handle this.
It wasn't as much as she would have liked, but it helped.
Rachel let those thoughts comfort her as she fell asleep.
A/N: So glad to finally wrap up this chapter! Anyway, lots of notes here…
I just had to make a little joke about the Shantae video game series here, because the voice actress Cristina Vee does the voice for both Marinette and Shantae.
IIRC, according to KAA, she came up with "Visser" (the Yeerk rank, roughly equivalent to a general) because it sounded like English words such as "vicious" or "viceroy." The fact about "Visser" being an actual Real World surname and meaning "fisherman" in Dutch is totally true. I just thought it might be interesting to put that in.
Major thanks to colourmeren for doing this commission for me! You can find Ren on Instagram and her own personal website from there, and I first found Ren after she did an illustration of "Marigold" (Bee!Marinette) for Zoe-oneesama's "Scarlet Lady" webcomic, and so I reached out to her to do an illustration for me! (And thanks to Zoe for that!) The scene which she illustrated (Chloé Bourgeois responsibly working the hotel's front desk) is an homage to the 1882 painting A Bar at the Folies-Bergère by Édouard Manet; you might recognize it if you look it up. Please visit her website! (You can find the link over at this chapter on AO3, because FFN won't let us do links to other websites.)
Romanée Conti and Pétrus are both very expensive French wines, and if you want to maybe experience some sticker shock, then you can go look up how much they're worth.
While I won't be so hung up about time or chronology for this story, I've decided to have this take place during the 2016-17 academic school year, since it's roughly around the time that S1 of Miraculous first came out and is also roughly 20 years into the future from when Animorphs first began. (And yes, I know, Miraculous plays fast and loose with chronology and has had such an insane and slap-dash airing schedule since its inception.)
Also, while Rachel (now Chloé) is quite smart and perceptive, especially with her no-nonsense attitude, she might still be affected by the Miraculous glamour charms which conceal identities… for now.
THE NEXT EPISODE IS MY FIRST ORIGINAL AKUMATIZED VILLAIN!
