It had been many years since Paris lost the miraculous duo. Whether or not Ladybug had died or been captured was unknown. She was simply…gone. Chat Noir personally feared death for her. Despite being either overlooked or ignored by the media, Ladybug was unwell the last time he saw her. He hadn't thought much of it back then. Naturally he had been concerned about her health, but at most she seemed tired and stressed. There was no doubt she was young enough to attend school like he did, so he chalked it up to heavy assignments or perhaps low grades she was trying to raise.

And then she was gone, just like that. It wasn't something he or anyone else had ever seen coming. They had been fighting side by side for three years and had grown very close during that time. One day she didn't show up for a battle. It was the same day he discovered he could hold off on his cataclysm and use it at the end to destroy those corrupted akumas instead of purify them like his better half could. Destruction and Creation were yin and yang, the perfect balance. But Hawkmoth hadn't been defeated yet. Of all times for Creation to abandon her duties…

He wanted to believe it was for a good reason. He wanted to believe she hadn't necessarily abandoned her duties so much as been unable to fulfill them. But in the end, wouldn't that be worse than abandonment or neglect? Surely so. He'd stopped imagining the possible reasons a long time ago. The biggest one was that she had died of her illness roughly a decade ago, and his black cat luck lived up to its superstition in that he was never informed. If she hadn't died…what had she been doing all this time?

Sometimes he preferred to believe she'd lost her miraculous but Tikki was always with her. There was no way. Sometimes he wished he could catch some small glimpse of Tikki, if he couldn't of Ladybug, so he would know Ladybug was safe or at least alive somewhere. Plagg hadn't been any help with that.

Maybe Ladybug had given up her miraculous. But, that didn't make much sense. It had been a very long time, there would've been another Ladybug by now.

It wasn't like he spent countless nights thinking of her though. Even catching—or destroying—akumas had become so much easier over the years. He'd grown used to fighting alone. He still thought about Ladybug, but not nearly as much as before. Strategizing in battles had never quite been his thing but simple and straightforward was working just fine for him. He could technically use multiple cataclysms now, he just preferred to use it once for the akuma—there was an "incident" with two tall buildings once that made him a little more responsible with the raw destructive power of the cataclysm.

He watched as the corrupted little butterfly began to brown from the edges in under that same power. Its struggle was over in seconds. Its wings stop flapping as they began to take on a crusty texture. He merely watched as the rest of the body grew as physically corrupt as it was spiritually. He'd been doing this to these once beautiful creatures for years yet the sight was still saddening. He couldn't purify and release this akuma. He could only deprive it of life.

The akuma slowly broke apart and crumbled in his palm. It always seemed so symbolic to him—like they were showing him what kind of death he had left in his wake each time he had to fight without innocence by his side.

He turned his hand over and dumped the akuma's powdery remains on the ground. He dusted his hand off and walked away as if he hadn't just destroyed one of the purest creations to exist.

He couldn't fix any of the damage done but he had worked with scientists to combat the kind of magic used to affect real people. He'd taken care of the hard part. It was up to them to slather that magical orange goo on the victims and return them to normal. Then the task of repairing buildings, cars, and whatever else affected was up to still other people. The city was truly kept working together through Ladybug's absence—ironically bringing people closer in this way.

He extended his staff and dropped from the roof of an office building using his staff like a pole. It retracted into itself when he was on the pavement and he fixed it into his belt. Not that it mattered or anything but…he was expected for a special news interview. It was like Paris had to torture him each year with the same questions and expected him to answer them all with this huge smile on his face, acting like everything was okay and he was supposed to be so happy to be a hero making all the sacrifices while they scurried away from trouble and rarely tried to help out.

He walked straight into the studio, ignoring the mass of reporters that had gathered to crowd and follow him through the streets. But he wore a smile anyway and pretended to like the attention.

The first thing he did when he got inside was duck into the nearest bathroom and lock himself in a stall.

"Plagg, claws in," he said.

He felt the power flow out of him as his suit disappeared into his ring. Plagg separated from the miraculous and moaned in exhaustion. The little kwami was definitely being a drama queen this time but at least Adrien had an idea why.

"Time to recharge," he told Plagg, tossing him a kwami-sized slice of camembert cheese.

Plagg caught the cheese and didn't hesitate to bury his face in it.

Adrien leaned against the side of the stall and sighed heavily.

"Why did all of Paris have to make a holiday of this?" he grumbled.

"Well," Plagg started through a mouthful of camembert, "you humans are weird like that. You celebrate some myth about a guy driving all the snakes out of Ireland, why does this surprise you?"

Adrien rolled his eyes. "Just eat up. The interview starts in a few minutes and I want to get it over with."

Plagg happily obliged and shoved a good portion of the cheese into his mouth.

Adrien remained silent, his mind going over the questions he would probably be asked so he could give himself a script to answer them, not at all unlike an actor performing on a stage. It was sad that he had to memorize lines rather than answer naturally. But every year he gave people what they wanted to hear to keep the drama to a minimum and to avoid any questions outside of interviews.

Somewhere outside the bathroom he could hear muffled voices of people asking about Cat Noir's whereabouts.

"You have five seconds left before Chat Noir has to get back out there," he told his kwami.

"Right."

Plagg somehow forced the rest of the cheese slice down his throat before going back into the miraculous.

Power flowed through Adrien again and he felt the fabric of his clothes reconstruct themselves into the more durable fabric of Chat Noir's outfit. Two ears clamped down on the base of a few locks of hair. A mask overlayed normal human vision, making it sharper and more alert to movement, and going so far as to morph his eyes.

He took a deep breath before heading back out, where he was immediately noticed and ushered into the studio.

"Ah, Chat Noir!" Nadja Chamack greeted. "Please, have a seat over there."

He grinned widely and sunk back into a couch slightly angled towards the camera and directly across from Nadja. He threw his arms onto the back of it and spread his legs in a relaxed manner.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Born ready."

He glanced over at the cameraman, who was moving the camera into the optimal position for this annual little tradition of ask-the-cat.

With one swift wave of someone's hand, Nadja cleared her throat and smiled that classic newscaster smile.

"And we're back with Chat Noir joining us for this very special day," she said to the camera—to her vast audience.

She turned to him. "So today marks the eleventh anniversary of Ladybug's death."

A/N

Oooohhhh Ladybug died. I'll be continuing the story, let me know what you think in the mean time!