Ladybug took off in one direction and he left in the other. It didn't take him very long to get home from the Arc de Triomphe. Just like he had been doing for years, he landed through his window, silently landing on his feet as though he were a real cat.That night, however, he immediately strode over to his nightstand to take the little toy out of his pocket. He knew he needed to come up with a better place to keep it, but that was something to worry about later.

He transformed back into a civilian and just as his transformation ended, he heard a small 'mew' come from the cat on the nightstand. He felt his heart stop and was emotionally prepared to transform back into a hero at a moment's notice if he needed to. He waited, impatiently, to find out if there was going to be another button press or not.

About a minute later, he released the breath that was caught in his throat. "One press just to say hi," he reminded himself, looking at the little toy. He couldn't help but stare at it when he got into bed. He knew that he wouldn't have long to sleep before he had to get ready for a meeting with Gabriel regarding that summer's internship program, but he decided that any rest was better than none.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep. When his dream began, he was on the opposite side of a piece of frosted glass than another figure. From the vibrancy of the color and the vague shape of the pigtails, he was certain that the figure was Ladybug, but she didn't address him.

He tried to call out to her, but she didn't look up. He could see that her back was to him and no matter how much he spoke to her, she didn't turn around. He tried calling her his lady, Buginette, little bug, and even just 'Spots,' but none of them got any reaction from her. He took a glance in each direction, but the glass looked infinite.

He made a choice. He turned to the left and started running. The glass had to end eventually, then he could check on Ladybug and he could help her. He could be there for her just like she deserved in a partner. He could be involved in her hunt for Monarch, no matter how much she acted like the responsibility fell exclusively on her.

He felt his heart rate start to accelerate as he picked up speed, continuing to run, and Ladybug was no longer in his field of vision. He still knew where she was, though. If he could just get to the other side of the glass, he knew that he could find her, but he couldn't see any gaps. There was no place to slip through.

"Plagg, claws out," he called, desperately hopeful he could use his baton to get over the glass if he couldn't get around it. Nothing happened. He was still running, but now he was aware of just how alone he was. Plagg wasn't there. Ladybug was alone, too, no longer having her partner just a few meters away.

He collapsed onto his knees, feeling like he was going to be sick, feeling like he let her down, feeling like he let Paris down. He didn't want her to feel alone, but he couldn't help her if he couldn't figure out how to get to her, how to give her the partner she deserves.

"Ladybug!" his voice carried through the almost empty dream. The only wall was the one between him and Ladybug, so there was no way for his voice to even echo back to him. At that point, he didn't know if he'd prefer the echo or not. Would it remind him of his loneliness, or would hearing a voice (even if it was his own) make him feel less alone?

He didn't know, and he didn't necessarily want to know. He went toward the frosted glass and tried to hit it. He'd gained a decent amount of muscle from his years as a hero, but he couldn't tell how thick the glass was. He brought his right hand back and punched the glass as hard as he could.

The only thing he accomplished was hurting his hand, his whole hand. The force of the impact spread evenly across the knuckles of each of his fingers which was shocking to him. Theoretically, the ring should have made the impact on that finger feel different, but it didn't. He lifted his right hand to look at it.

His ring was gone. It wasn't just Plagg not transforming him. He couldn't transform without his ring. He couldn't be her partner without his ring. He couldn't be himself without his ring. He desperately wanted to be more like Chat Noir as Adrien, but without the ring, it felt like any want or hope for that has disappeared, vanished without a trace.

"Ladybug!" his voice again carried through the room with no echo. "Ladybug, I'm sorry I can't be there for you. I can't do more for you. I can't be enough of a partner for you." He felt his eyes fill with tears and continued looking around, hoping again for a gap in the glass he could go through to get to her side of the wall.

He wanted this to end. He didn't know what to do, but he was panicking. He didn't want to be there anymore, he just wanted to feel okay. He wanted to help her feel okay, but it seemed like that was an impossible request at that point. If he had his ring, he could crack the glass, he knew he could. It wouldn't even be that hard, right?

It wasn't there, though. It was just him, in a striped t-shirt he hadn't worn since he was in collège and a pair of medium wash blue jeans. He felt so helpless, so small, like the fact that Ladybug hadn't let him be there for her was enough that he didn't deserve to be a hero anymore and he hated that feeling.

The glass began to move, he could hear it creaking as it scratched across the floor and surrounded him. It circled in on itself, sealing him into a circle and he wanted to get out, but he couldn't. He was stuck, trapped inside the walls of the frosted glass prison that his mind had created for him.

"Adrien…" He heard a voice call out to him. He was adamantly hoping that the voice he heard was Ladybug. She would be able to save him, she was good at saving civilians. She didn't have to know that he was her partner. She would save any civilian in danger. He knew that about her, right?

"Adrien." The voice was closer than it was a minute ago and he didn't know what to do about it. He still felt like he was going to be sick and he didn't know what to do about the disembodied voice. He felt a pressure applied to him and startled awake in a cold sweat, face almost green from the sense of uneasiness he felt.

"Adrien, it's time to get ready for your meeting with your father. He expects you downstairs ready to go to the office in the next twenty minutes." The once disembodied voice belonged to Nathalie and that knowledge was enough to calm him a bit.

"Of course, Nathalie," he agreed. "I'll go get ready now." She turned to leave the room, not even noticing the tiny cat on his nightstand. She closed the door behind herself and he got up out of bed to get ready for his day.