A/N: We're still stationed in the battle! Yep, it's not over yet and the heat is just cranking up, so strap in guys cause the next few chapters are gonna be a HUGE rollercoaster. Also, a note for readers of the original ABOI, the plot does shake up from this point. There's gonna be a lot of new elements sewn into the latest chapters, fleshing out the time between Vixen's appearance and the ending. So get ready for a wild ride through angst city!

Also, fun fact: I had to REWRITE this chapter TWICE because fanfic didn't save it. Very fun :)

Lilcala - Gracias. Espero que, el resto es estupendo también. (Sabo un poco de español, lo siento si es mala XD)

Aside from those few details I don't have much to say. Feel free to drop in a review - or don't. My stuff tends to get more reviews and following once I finish them, oddly.

Till next time,

D.L.D

P.S. Thanks again FoxDemon1023 for pointing out the lack of clarity in the last chapter! Your point really helped me to refine this chapter and make it more plot-driven.

Chapter 18: Supernova

Chat Noir

Was it just pure coincidence that everything stopped as soon as she fell?

Really, he had imagined that it was just in movies - just in exaggerations of death - that everything stopped in that one moment. Every single drop of rain, every little motion that should take a second, froze. There was no such thing as a second. No such thing as time. All that was left was... well, a blank in-between of past and present. This weird feeling of knowing that time was passing, feeling that time was passing, and yet being stuck in one place. Perpetually.

Only once before had Chat Noir felt such a sensation. His mother. All those years ago - time that felt like nothing when he didn't think about it and yet felt like millennia whenever he did - the world had felt the same. One moment everything was colourful, vivid and noisy and lively; as soon as reality sank in, the news of his mother, everything bled out into grey. Blank, monotone - a mixture of monochrome shades and mundane days - became the next year of Adrien's life. There was no such thing as passing time.

But even back then, when he'd lost his mother, that feeling - that hopeless, painful in-between - had never felt so horrible. Being in this place, this zone of grief and disbelief, had never felt so... raw.

Seeing Ladybug fall had been indescribable - and not in the good way. Sour tasting, stomach knotting, made him want to bash his head on a pole kind of bad way. This was a new kind of a failure, a new kind of pain, seeing the love of his life, his very own partner, burn up in flames within the blink of an eye. Pink dust - starlight - was the last thing Chat Noir had seen. Breaking through the overwhelming sea of amber, shattering the piercing heat, was her own light.

Then there was nothing.

Just a moment ago Ladybug had been there. Whole and safe - panicked but safe - gripping onto him with her entire life literally in his hand. All those times before, saved by only a thread, Chat Noir had been able to save her. Meaningless times, the most stupid of times, he had been there to pick her up. Tiny stumbles in her every day life; a quick save from a face-plant into a billboard when she got a little too distracted staring at the latest Gabriel ad. All those times... why not this one?

"Marinette!" She was in his grasp - in Chat Noir's grasp. Never before had Chat Noir seen her like that - crying and shivering and breaking down on the job. Ladybug had always been the strongest part of her, the part that Marinette reinforced with all the confidence she thought she lacked.

There was something she had wanted to say. Tumbling on the tip of her tongue, trying to worm its way into the air. Whatever it was, whatever she had wanted him to know, Chat Noir would never know. In that moment, hanging on for dear life, she had slipped away. Just like that. Just. Like. That.

For moments he was left hanging there, empty and unfeeling as he hung onto his baton. Staring down, into that fiery abyss, thinking about it. But what was it? All those moments spent hanging, staring down at nothing - because now it was nothing, the flames had gone - what exactly was Chat Noir thinking? Was he even Chat Noir anymore?

"I will kill you!" Rena Rouge, unrestrained, a complete tempest. Clashing, sonorous and echoing, carried in the violent winds, thundering along the framework of the Eiffel Tower. "I will kill you!"

Is that what he was meant to do? In that moment, staring at nothing, was he meant to act and do and... what? Take down the akuma, let it loose and only wait for Lila to reactivate it again? Ladybug held the key to purifying the akumas. Without her there was no point to them. Without her there was no way to reverse the ultimate damage done that night - not that it being reversed would ever fix the memory of losing her, of seeing her literally burn up in flames. His own failure.

"Chat Noir?" Carapace, concerned as he crouched in a corner, hidden under the shadows of the Tower. Timid as a tortoise, he peeped out of the darkness, "Are you alright?"

Feeling alright was not something to feel in moments like these. Pretty obviously, being alright was not something that should be expected. But being alright was all Chat Noir had ever been. When he was rejected by Ladybug, he was alright; when he was sacrificing himself for her, he was alright; when he was with her, laughing on a rooftop someplace, sharing a sneaky ice-cream snatched off a vendor and paid in equally hasty coins, he was alright. With her, he was always alright. But now...

Something broke within him. Like a fine chord, like glass, it smashed and never really got back to its original state.

Then came the first real tears.

"Definitely not alright," Carapace took the hint, took in the tears that fell with the sobs. There was no denying it. There was no trying to hide it. This was not alright.

Silence rippled across them once more. Within that silence Carapace was working, gently tugging Chat Noir toward him, back onto the stability of a real platform, giving the hero's aching arms a rest - not that he had entirely noticed. Folding in on himself, slumping into himself, the great Chat Noir was reduced to nothing but a heap of flesh and bone, holding onto himself because that was all he knew how to do, the only thing he knew how to do without her there.

More metallic clanging filled the air, joined by screeches and yells and cries of pain. Background noise, just like static that filled a radio's silence, to both heroes' ears. Not a reason to stir. Not now. Like soldiers hardened from a war, well-used to bombardments and bombshells sailing through the air, they easily sat through the shock waves and sound blasts, bumping into each other like close-knit life buoys in a vast sea.

"I'm going to check down there," Carapace eventually spoke, clearing his throat as he nodded toward the ground. Sadness ebbed in his own eyes - the loss of one of his closest friends. "Do you want to..."

No. He didn't. If everything had turned out - if there really was nothing, Chat Noir knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. Not again. He'd rather never know.

Saying nothing, the hero extended his baton and took one express ride up to the very top. This would be his final time as Chat Noir; this time he'd end the akuma along with everything to do with this terrible battle.

Rena Rouge

Never before had she felt like this. Being calm, being cool, had been a key part of being Rena Rouge. Acting like a hot-head, charging into danger head-first like a maniac, was meant to be Chat Noir's role on the team. Weapon high in the air, cracking jokes with a huge grin: yes, that had always been the unofficial role of the infamous goofball of the team. Taking risks - receiving the reward of those risks - had always been his calling.

So why was she trying to do it too?

"I will kill you!" With as much force as she could, Rena Rouge slammed her flute down, shoulder jolting with the vibrations of the impact. Wild, feral, she was no longer Rena Rouge; she was something else entirely. "I will kill you!"

Never before had an akuma caused so much anguish. Never before had an akuma attempted to cause this much pain - no, not like this. Lasting pain, stabbing pain, that was the sort that Vixen wanted to deliver. Powerful pain that felt like a heart attack - only the attack never stopped. All it did was keep going, keep hurting, seizing your muscles, choking your throat, until all you felt was that lasting, blazing pain. Nothing else. Not anything else.

Killing Ladybug had been her plan. Using one of them to kill Ladybug had always been her plan. Distorting reality, her power of manipulating their own interpretations of reality, had been an added bonus - an extra reward. Making the fight each other, confuse enemy with friend and friend with enemy, had always been her goal. Even before Vixen was akumatised, lost in the powers of Hawkmoth, she had tried to play them against each other.

What a great plan that was! Playing Team Ladybug against itself. Using her power, distorting their perceptions, to get the heroes right where she wanted them. Kill Ladybug; break Chat Noir; make Rena Rouge the blame. There was nothing else to it. There was nothing else to consider. Breaking them apart had been the aim and she had done just that.

Without their leader, Team Ladybug was falling apart at the seams.

"I'd like to see you try," Vixen spat out in retaliation, blood trickling from the freshly opened cut on her bottom lip. Roughly wiping it away, she glared at the fox-themed heroine, staff held tight within her hands. "You heroes would never have the gall to even try."

And that was the mistake. The costly, terrible mistake. Some people - some akumas - were never meant to be seen as humans. Some people - some akumas - would only ever understand cold, hard justice. Brutal justice, the bruising kind, was all that some people would ever listen to. Violent justice. Distorted justice. But justice all the same. Justice lost down a road, so far down that it wasn't even justice anymore. Just punishment.

That kind of justice, toxic to the bone and bruising to the skin, was the kind Vixen needed. Anything else would be ignored.

"Don't be so sure," Rena Rouge responded, each word passed through a tight-set jaw. Were they even her words? Around her flute her knuckles blazed, not used to being bent for so long. Beneath her skin, her joints ached with fatigue. However, in the pulsing of her blood, the thump of her veins, everything felt so distant. Lost. Not like her at all.

Again the flute came crashing down, bending a beam into a twisted arc. Again Vixen managed to dodge its aim, a flurry of russet material and long brown hair.

For way too long they danced about the summit, two foxes in the night, staff and flute exchanging bitter blows that never seemed to strike true. Metallic echoing rang through the air, sonorous like an otherworldly bird song, distant like another world. If this were another world those noises would belong to a flying saucer - invading aliens. Too bad this was their world, filled with pain, filled with anguish, no longer filled with Ladybug.

In this moment, sweat beading on her hairline, tears burning in her system, Rena Rouge would give anything for an alien invasion. Maybe then, in that world, she would have been able to do better.

Neck and neck, they were tied now. Both slim weapons pressed against each other, muscles tense with burning energy as they pushed and pulled, teeth grit and snarls bared. One complete stalemate. Two eyes filled with burning determination, matched with perfect scowls that slipped into feral snarls. Foxes - two foxes - and two vixens never did bode well together. Territory always was a key thing and one of them never did well with respecting the other's boundaries.

"Just give up!" Rena Rouge snapped, pushing forward with all her might. In that moment Vixen stumbled back, almost slipping as her stance loosened.

"Never!" Another push. This time sending the heroine across the summit, aided by a gust of unnatural wind. Clawing onto the metal edge, fingernails splitting beneath the suit, Rena Rouge dragged herself back up to her feet.

Ending this battle would be the only way to end it all. Ending this battle would be the only way, the only true way, to make up for failing when she was needed most. That kick - delivered to the unsuspecting akuma - had been a mistake. Too hasty, too emotional, Rena Rouge had done more damage than any true good. Too blinded. Too pained. Too... young. None of this should have been on her shoulders; none of this should be on their shoulders.

So why now, after tragedy had struck, was it hitting her? Like a ten tonne truck, like a dumbbell dropped from heaven, why was it hitting her now?

Gelid rain, slicing rain, continued to drench the city. Solid, sturdy ground became a slippery slope, knocking her balance as well as Vixen's as they tussled on the Tower's summit. There was only one way this could end. There was only one way to end this all.

Dark, like midnight, a streak blurred across the nearly starless sky. Abrupt was the glint of his silver baton. Sudden was the attack he landed, knocking the akuma down with one solid blow that felt as if it held the power of a million.

Fury, stark and clear, sat within the wild green eyes hidden behind his dark mask and filled with sharp, feral pupils. Unreadable. Unrecognisable. Yet Rena Rouge could see herself within them, reflected in a mirror image. Unleashed in that moment was a wild flurry of emotion: that was the feeling they shared.

Pain. Certain, obvious, settled pain. It looked so wrong within his eyes. It felt so wrong, coming from him - the unshakable, forever-smiling Chat Noir. Pain. Deep pain, intense sorrow, deep as river that spanned for thousands of miles, pitted through mountains and valleys across the vast continental terrain. Knowing who was beneath that mask, how often he seemed so resigned and hurt and mournful - it only made it worse.

But the fury...

She had to stop him.

"Chat Noir!" Rena Rouge scrambled toward him, a mess of clumsy limbs as she scampered across the summit. Weak, jellied at the marrow, her bones did little to support her movement. "Destroy the akuma!"

None of her words hit his ears. Air. They may as well have been vapid air within the violent howls of the storm.

There was nothing brutal about him. No, it was almost controlled. Dangerous was the look in his eye, the grasp of his hand as he pinned his target down, thoughts and cogs spinning within his mind. This wasn't Chat Noir. This wasn't even Adrien. Something else, something numbed and empty and response-less, was in control, pulling the strings and gathering up the broken seams, attempting to keep it all together. To fix the mess.

"Cataclysm."

"Let me go!" Vixen screeched, wiggling within his tight grasp. For once she wasn't shifting, wasn't changing, pure fear widening her olive green eyes. Even the storm around them seemed to become unstable, its winds and rain little more than a fleeting brush of movement.

At this stage the akuma usually would have been gone. In that moment they usually would have been sitting together, on a rooftop somewhere, sharing a hearty laugh about the entire ordeal. If Ladybug was there - if Marinette was there - this would have been the usual akuma attack all over again. Akuma gone; victim restored to their normal life; a few days (hopefully) Hawkmoth-and-akuma-free. That was how things should have been. How things would have been. If Rena Rouge had not decided to let her anger get the best of her.

Now, right in front of her, the same scenario was playing out. Chat Noir, teetering on the edge of right and wrong, something unreadable swimming within those pained eyes of his. Could she live with this? Could she live with knowing this had happened, right before her very eyes?

"Chat Noir stop!" Futile, almost futile, she stood before him, eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. With what she'd just seen, she might as well have been one. With the dark hand looming before them, powerful energy concentrated within his palm, she might as well have been a marked target. In that moment she had to act quickly; in that second she just had to throw herself between Chat Noir and Vixen.

This... this wasn't them. Driven by emotion, driven by anger, was not them. Rena Rouge and Chat Noir were far from the monsters that Hawkmoth created because they did not let their emotions cloud their judgement. Not like him. Not like his akumas. Not like any of those who turned to the darkness, its empty, temporary comforts, for something to soothe the dull ache. Darkness was not who they were. Darkness was not what they are.

Space was needed to allow him to think. Mass space. Flute in hand, Rena Rouge played the familiar tune of her power, creating a mirage. One beautifully wonderful, horribly cruel mirage, right before his aching, bleeding heart.

"Chat Noir?" Ladybug. Whole and lovely and... not real. Not real at all. So cruel, it was, to do this. Oh it was so cruel. But necessary evils were needed to prevent Chat Noir - to prevent Adrien - from making the biggest mistake of his life.

Pretending to be her would forever weight on Rena Rouge's soul. Walking in her skin, wearing her ladybug spots, would always feel wrong. But tonight, especially, it weighed on the heroine. Twisting in her stomach, knotting up her intestines, this mirage would become one which would haunt her for days, years, forever. Yet it had to be done. Tears in her eyes - in Ladybug's eyes - Rena Rouge forced herself to play her part.

"What are you doing?" So wrong from her lips. So foreign. But it was what she needed to do.

Pausing in his actions, eyes as wide as saucers, Chat Noir dared to believe, "My lady?"

One second. That extra second he awarded Rena Rouge was all that she needed. That second of hesitation, that second of doubt, was all it took for her to turn on her heel, bringing her flute to connect with the back of his head. After that he was out like a light. And Vixen?

"Better luck next time," A hoarse giggle into the wind. "I won't forget about this."

Marinette

Everything hurt. Prickling pain, radiating pain, invaded every crevice of her body. Shifting rock and sliding stone moved beneath her spine. Something warm and something equally chilling slipped over her skin. None of her hands could check because none of her hands could move. None of Marinette's limbs could move. There was too much pain, too much agony, from the thought of moving alone. Movement meant more pain and if being stationary hurt this much then she didn't want to know how much worse it could get.

Gaze sliding up above, following the course she had just fallen through, the heroine couldn't help but feel a stab in her gut. Chat Noir. Distant. Up there. Watching. Solitary and lone, he was a blurry mass of black, distinguishable only because of the bright glint of his weapon.

Mere moments ago his hand had been wrapped around her own, claws digging into her forearm as he struggled to keep her afloat. Letting go wasn't a choice in that moment. Watching as his eyes filled with agony - a sense of restless torment so different from the usual resignation hidden behind his emerald gaze - hadn't been her choice. Everything happened too quickly. Her gaze had loosened too quickly.

One moment Ladybug was in his grasp. Then next she was falling into the flames, detransforming as soon as she hit them.

Those flames weren't really flames. When she had first hit them, partially Ladybug and partially Marinette, the pain they produced had felt real. Scorching her skin, singeing her beautiful midnight hair, those flames had worked as effectively as any real fire would. But only for the first second. As soon as Marinette detransformed, as soon as Ladybug ceased to exist, those flames were nothing more thin air. An illusion.

What had really caused damage was the fall. Hitting a metal bar, slamming her spine, the base of the tower had damaged Marinette most. Nerves were definitely damaged, a bone had definitely been broken - if not multiple - and her skull needed a definite check up. Even without medical expertise, Marinette could deduce as much from the pain she felt, the blood she sensed, seeping from her body and organs.

If she had been Ladybug, that fall would have been serious but definitely not life-altering. If she had been stronger, then Ladybug would still be available for battle - winded and limping but available nonetheless.

Now... now she was nothing but a fractured young woman, bleeding out on cold concrete in her own little pit. Lonely. Damaged. Useless. But Marinette had always suspected that she was as much anyway - ever since she had become Ladybug. Without the earrings, she was nothing.

"La...bug?"

Sound wasn't all that clear anymore. Distorted and crackling, the voice morphed into electronic signals in her mind, an indistinguishable blur of sirens, crickets and human noise.

Only when the owner loomed over her half-open eyes did Marinette connect the dots. Bright green, a sort of rich forest green that reminded her of leaves, was the main colour of this person. Overall his silhouette was rounded, expanded around his back like he had a giant shell on it. And his eyes - bright windows of amber glass - made her think of glasses, no goggles. Carapace. Nino. Her teammate. he would help her.

Carapace. But not her Kitty.

Where was he?

"Mar...net," Carapace spoke once more, his voice a mellow mix of rustling leaves and gentle words. Pain exploded along her spine, reaching down to the tips of her toes, as something slipped under her body, pulling her off the slippery surface of the cracked pavement. "I'm... go... get... some help."

"I - " Her voice wasn't working properly, a mixture of blood and pain rendering her voice box useless. Squeezing her eyes shut, swallowing down the pain that erupted with every breath, she managed to utter out, "Is he ok?"

For a moment, stationary in a time where urgency was necessary, Carapace looked up. Up into the sky, up into darkness, up to where her Kitty probably was. Thankfully he wasn't alone, Rena Rouge was there to keep him safe, to keep him grounded, in a way that she couldn't right now. Nevertheless, with how Carapace looked up there, lips pressed into a firm line and body stiff as a board, Marinette could tell that not all was well. How could anything be well when Ladybug had crumbled?

"He's... as well... can," Carapace eventually answered, bringing his gaze back to the injured girl in his arms. Now he was setting off, travelling by foot because his massive leaps would only cause more pain to rumble through her system. Nevertheless, she tried to strain her ears to hear better, to make out more of his words, "And... he knows... you're ok... alive... be better."

Yes, she was alive. But barely. Slipping between waking and dreaming worlds, eyes fluttering with fatigue and overexertion, Marinette was teetering between being alive and being conscious. Because one could always just not be alive in the waking way.

Every moment after was a blur. Bumps as she traveled with Carapace; cold gusts of air that chilled her stiff spine as she attempted to shiver. There was this constant cloud of haziness, a constant feeling of unease that sat in her system. Even as some loud noises began to pierce through her ear drums, the familiar and yet unfamiliar wail of sirens, Marinette still couldn't make sense of it all. Everything was distant. Everything was far yet recognisable.

Only once she had been loaded up into an ambulance, tight straps keeping everything in place and IV hooked up, did she realise what was going on. But even in that moment, paramedics rushing to stem the bleeding and rattling out dozens of questions per minute, she couldn't find the resolve to stay conscious. Instead she slipped into a tranquil peace, eyes fluttering closed as the jarring beeps of her pulse picked up in speed.

Carapace

"So what do we do with him?"

Both heroes stared at Adrien Agreste, stripped of his miraculous for the time being. In the aftermath of the battle, Vixen disappearing into the night and their only remaining half of the two most powerful miraculous rendered unsafe, both Rena Rouge and Carapace had decided to regroup. Chat Noir slung over Rena's shoulder, and Carapace keeping tabs on Marinette and her admission to hospital, they'd both decided to conduct an impromptu meeting close by to the hospital.

Hidden within the gloom they had taken Chat Noir's miraculous. Still unconscious, Adrien was propped up against a chimney column, strangely serene in his motionless state. Nothing similar could be said for Marinette, however. Blood speckled all over, pooling on the stone pavement and dripping from her body, she had looked anything but peaceful and serene. Everything hung in the balance of her survival; everything relied on her and Chat Noir.

Nevertheless, both Carapace and Rena Rouge knew that Adrien was too unstable at the moment. So close to killing Vixen, to using his cataclysm for nothing good, he had almost crossed the point of no return. Only Ladybug had stopped him - a mirage of Ladybug. If Rena Rouge had not been there, if Ladybug was not still alive, what would be there to stop him? Next time, if Ladybug did die in battle, what would be the outcome?

"We'll have to keep an eye on him," Rena Rouge sighed, a hand running through her ponytail. "Once we know that he's safe for the public he can have the ring back."

"And if he's not safe?" Carapace pressed, his gaze fixed to his friend. So much suffering, so much hurt, went on beneath the surface. From the moment his mother went missing, from the moment his father decided to shut himself away, Adrien had been hurting. That hurt had triggered his intense reaction today; that hurt would always be a trigger.

"Then we'll have to hope that Ladybug can keep him in line," Rena Rouge responded, turning to stare at the hospital stationed across from them.

Thousands of people milled about the building, some walking along the roads toward different buildings and departments, and others queuing to enter the A and E department. Immediately Marinette had been rushed to A and E, the stretcher rushed out of the ambulance at the speed of light. Things hadn't looked good then, her face a mixture of paleness and bruising, and her eyes closed as she was jostled across the small walkway and into the main building. Several paramedics were talking to each other, one of them clearing the way. None of that had been reassuring.

"This is really all my fault," Rena Rouge took a seat, shaking her head as she gazed at the organised chaos down below. So many people were rushing in and out of the hospital. So many people were crying on benches, breaking down on phone calls that lasted for entire lifetimes. No Ladybug meant no lucky charm; no lucky charm meant that many innocent civilians received permanent damage tonight. "If I just didn't act without thinking, if I'd realised- "

"Sometimes there isn't time to realise," Carapce sighed, taking a seat beside her. Placing a guiding hand on her shoulder, he squeezed it comfortingly as he gave a small smile. "Unfortunately, part of our job is outweighing the outcome with the cost."

"But I missed the cost," Rena Rouge sniffed, brushing away the fresh tears that had formed within her eyes. "And because of that Ladybug is out of commission - as well as Chat Noir."

Denying that truth would have been like saying the sky wasn't blue. Rena Rouge had indeed caused the largest pitfall that Team Ladybug had ever seen in its four years of existence. Never before had Ladybug and Chat Noir been out of commission. Never before had they both been unavailable. But, at the same time, the akumas from before had never been so ruthless either. True death had never been thought of as a possibility. At least, not a first.

Now, true death was spiked into every battle they had. Every battle was a fight for their lives as well as protecting Paris. With Vixen, arguably, the battle was even greater because she had wanted Ladybug to be dead. Killing them all had been her aim.

"At least Marinette is alive," Carapace spoke, his voice a quiet whisper in the night as he shuffled closer to Rena Rouge. Bumping their shoulders together, legs touching as they dangled off the building's edge, he held her hand in his. "As long as she's alive we can make it through this rough period."

Silence overwhelmed Rena Rouge for a good moment. Nothing but silence, a pinched lip and an unreadable stare ahead.

"Yes, we can," She eventually admitted, a small whisper that joined his in the night's drafty breeze. Firmly, she squeezed his hand in hers, "I just hope that she can forgive me for all this."

Adrien

Head filled with a painful, pounding sensation, Adrien Agreste found himself waking up on a strange rooftop - as himself. Adrien Agreste. Not Chat Noir. Immediately alarm built within his system, the blonde leaping to his feet as he got into a fighting stance, sleepy green eyes darting about the surrounding area as he surveyed the scene around him.

Prominent and lasting, his last memory was of the Eiffel Tower, of Vixen in his grasp, eyes wide with panic as he called on his cataclysm. Now he was somewhere else entirely, the cold early winter breeze whipping at his arms as he tried to piece together what exactly had occurred between now and then. Vixen and this rooftop. Himself and Chat Noir. Not to mention the two heroes sitting on the rooftop, Rena Rouge's head resting on Carapace's shoulder.

"You're awake," None of them turned around but Rena Rouge's voice was clear, certain. "About time, Furball."

"What's going on?" Adrien asked, his question more like a demand as he remained rooted to his spot. So far it was hard to trust anyone - Vixen did manipulate reality, that was her power. And so, cautious as he was, as exposed as he was, Adrien was hesitant to trust the two figures sat before him.

"We had to stop you mec," Carapace sighed, hopping to his feet after placing a gentle peck on Rena Rouge's cheek. Approaching the blonde, the hero looked concerned as he took in his friend, alive and alert with anxiety and panic. "You were about to kill Vixen - using your own power."

That was true. Still playing in his brain, a reel of footage that he couldn't edit or delete, was that crushing moment. Emptiness in his system, a cold, cruel, gelid sensation that felt like ice, had taken over when he made that decision. Ending that battle and ending the anguish the akuma had caused was all that had consumed Adrien's brain; ending that battle and ending himself, what he was once, was all he could think of.

Now, in the calm aftermath, Adrien couldn't say that he felt differently. Still sitting in his veins was the itch to act; still brewing in his system was the intent to hunt down that akuma and make her pay the ultimate price for killing Ladybug. Because Ladybug was gone. With his own two eyes, viewed from a front row seat, he had witnessed her demise, the bright flash of light that sparked from the building flames.

Ladybug was dead. She wasn't coming back.

"She's alive, you know," Rena Rouge spoke, a voice rough with tears and hoarseness. Still she hadn't turned around, alone on her perch as she overlooked the building ahead, her front lit up with the bright lights pouring from the thousands of windows before them. "Carapace managed to get her help."

Impossible. Improbable. When he had looked back down there, at those flames which had vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, Chat Noir - Adrien - had been certain that they'd eaten away at her. Fire was something the kwamis weren't too powerful against. Nature itself could easily overpower magic, fire, water and air always having a much stronger grasp on reality than the kwamis and their own powers. That was why fire was such a dangerous element to work with; akumas with fire-themed powers always were the most dangerous.

Even Ladybug couldn't survive a fire of that scale. Even he, as Chat Noir, could not survive an inferno that powerful.

"I don't," Adrien paused, swallowing the building lump in his throat. Balling his fists - realising that they lacked the familiar sensation of his ring - he turned away from the building, the bright light escaping from it. "I don't believe that. I saw it with my own eyes."

"And I'm telling you that she's alive," Rena Rouge insisted, a fierce bark in her voice. Now standing up, still staring over the building ahead, she continued, "I saw it my own eyes."

"So why did you take my miraculous?" Adrien quick-fired, still focused on the half-shadowed figure of Rena Rouge.

"Because you nearly killed someone tonight!" Rena Rouge whipped around, her face contorted with tears and agony as her brows bent at a steep angle. Hands balled at her sides, she regarded the blonde with anger in her eyes, anger and intense sadness, something that was rare for her. Something that Alya - yes, because it was Alya talking now and not her alter ago - rarely let slip through whenever she was around others. "You nearly became a monster tonight, Adrien."

And that was when it set in. How he had lost himself through that fog of impenetrable grief and impermeable anger and frustration. With his mother there had never been much anger to direct. The world was the blame for her loss. Everything was to blame for her loss. But, at the same time, nothing could be blamed. So he had never thought about concentrating that anger. This time round, though, there was a target. There was something to blame.

"I want my ring back," Adrien spoke, holding his hand out for the miraculous. Arrogance blooming in his system, joined by a matching twinge of ignorance, he schooled his face into a cool mask of impassiveness, unfeeling frostiness. "You don't have the right to take it."

"I do when you're a threat to everyone else," Rena Rouge responded, folding her arms across her chest. Tapping, her foot patted out an irritated rhythm. "And tonight you were a big one. If I didn't use my mirage you would have done something irreversible."

"Then you should have your miraculous taken too," Adrien rebutted, remaining just as firm and unrelenting as Rena Rouge on the matter. His hand still out, expecting his miraculous, he raised a questioning brow, "Didn't you also try to kill her?"

Tense and charged, the pair glared at each other from across the roof. With Ladybug absent there was no-one to diffuse their tension. Without Ladybug there was no-one to take charge on these matters and decide who was right in this particular situation. Ladybug was always the one making decisions. Ladybug was always the one giving out the miraculous and taking them back. No-one else. Only she had that power.

"Alya," Carapace sighed, his voice a quiet sign of resignation. Standing between them both, the calm in between, he nodded toward her, "Give him the ring."

Tossing it to Adrien, the fox heroine sucked her teeth. Reluctance was clear on her end. Extremely clear. But she clearly didn't have the energy to disagree with Carapace - the person closest to her on the team.

"Just be careful next time," Carapace warned, his gaze turning to Adrien. Filled with pain, filled with fatigue, his face felt to have aged by ten years as he turned away from the pair. "Both of you be more careful."

And then he was gone, leaving both the fox and cat heroes behind, illuminated by the light of the hospital's rooms.