"Silence in the courtroom, please!"
The judge's voice echoed through the room, jolting Marinette from her thoughts. A sudden rush of unease washed over her.
"Are you okay, m'lady?" Chat Noir whispered from beside her, his gloved hand gently squeezing her right hand.
She nodded, swallowing her anxiety. "Don't worry," she replied, returning his squeeze. "I'm fine."
His gaze lingered on her, as though searching for the truth behind her masked eyes. It seemed like he was about to say something, when her mother, who was currently wearing the peacock miraculous, glanced at them. "Are you sure you want to watch this, ma chérie? Do you need to go outside?"
Marinette gave her mother a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I'm fine," she repeated, but the word felt wrong on her tongue.
"Fine" might have been a strong word. It had been four months, and she couldn't yet determine if she was healing or deteriorating. Her own testimony had been the only time she had truly spoken in all these months, and it had been a struggle to push out even a single word. Thankfully, only a handful of people had been there to hear Ladybug; the lawyers, the jury, the judges, and the stenographer. The trial had been a media sensation, but it had been held behind closed doors. Only a select few were privy to the proceedings, including a handful of trusted heroes, those who knew Ladybug's identity.
She turned her gaze toward the front of the courtroom, looking at the back of the heads of Gabriel, Nathalie, James, Lila, and Dylan. Not once during these four months had they dared to meet her eyes. Marinette yearned for some acknowledgment. She would've loved to see guilt, embarrassment, or even anger in this expression. Anything but this cold ignorance.
They had been her family, her friends, her mentors. They had, quite literally, been her entire life. But now, their indifference, their refusal to look at her, cut deeper than anything ever could. Her heart ached as she realized that despite the years they had spent together, and the love she had held for them, she was nothing to them. Worst of all, she knew it. She knew she was a plan, they'd wanted her dead, but a small part of her couldn't help but cry for their attention.
They said time healed wounds, yet it had done nothing more than leave her with scars impossible to heal.
She felt like a ghost. She wasn't the Marinette she used to be, nor was she Victoria. So, who was she, exactly? Nothing, no one. She was an observer, detached from reality, merely a spectator to the events unfolding all around her. Her mother had suggested talking to a psychologist, but the thought of baring her soul to a stranger was much more terrifying than the silence of her mind.
Marinette was suffocating. She was stuck underwater and was slowly letting herself fall deeper. It was as though sirens were grabbing her arms and legs, mesmerizing her with their melodies and convincing her to go to the deep end with them. It sounded oh so peaceful. So calm. And then, from time to time, someone would reach out a hand. They would try to pull her above the water, where she could finally breathe, but it seemed completely out of reach.
The adrenalin had sustained her in the immediate aftermath of the battle, but once the chaos had subsided and the authorities had taken Gabriel into custody, Marinette … collapsed. Her mask of strength had slipped, and she had been forced to confront the years of torment, pain and betrayal.
For days, she had remained confined to her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts. Silence had enveloped her, stifling every word and emotion. She hadn't even shed a tear, not even when she'd been reunited with her mother—whom Adrien and Alya had revealed everything to—or when she had learned of her father's death, five years prior. A broken heart, apparently. He had never been able to grieve his only child.
"This is the trial of the decade," the news reporter said on the screen. "We now know the identities of the five people involved; Nathalie Sanscoeur, Lila Rossi, James Turner, Dylan Turner and the famous fashion designer Gabriel Agreste. They—"
The screen suddenly turned off, and all the eyes in the room turned to look at Marinette. They hadn't heard her coming in, thinking she was still asleep in her childhood room. But here she was, staring at the TV with a blank stare.
"Mari…" Adrien started, but Marinette simply turned her back on them, heading back to her bed.
"In the case of kidnapping," the judge's words came suddenly, catching Marinette off guard. She hadn't realized that he had started speaking again. A fine layer of sweat covered her forehead as she waited for his next words. "The court finds the defendant, Gabriel Agreste, guilty and hereby sentences him to 50 years of imprisonment. Additionally, for the charge of attempted murder, the court finds the defendant guilty and sentences him to an additional 25 years. For the charge of conspiracy to commit kidnapping and murder, the court finds the defendant guilty and sentences him to 30 years. Finally, for the terrorism-related charges, the defendant is sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole."
The room erupted into a chaotic mix of relief, satisfaction, and applause. Marinette clutched Adrien's hand, her knuckles whitening, while he leaned in, placing a tender kiss on her head. She should've asked him how he was feeling. If he was okay. That was his dad, after all, but… She couldn't bring herself to.
"The court finds the defendant, Lila Rossi, guilty on all charges of murder, kidnapping, conspiracy to commit murder and kidnapping, assault, and conspiracy to terrorism," the judge continues, his voice growing distant with each word spoken. "The court sentences the defendant to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole."
Sitting beside Sabine, Rena Rouge muttered a hushed, "Thank fuck."
"Regarding the charges of kidnapping, assault, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, and conspiracy to terrorism, the court finds the defendant, Dylan Turner, guilty and sentences him to 50 years of imprisonment. In accordance with the established agreement between the United States and France, the defendant will be repatriated to American soil for the fulfillment of his sentence. He will be confined in a U.S. federal facility, and further legal actions will be determined by American authorities."
Fifty years, Marinette thought, repeating the number over and over in her head. Fifty, fifty, fifty…
"For the charges of kidnapping, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, and conspiracy to terrorism, the court finds the defendant, James Turner, guilty and sentences him to 40 years of imprisonment. The court acknowledges the defendant's American citizenship and his significant legal contributions. Pursuant to a bilateral agreement between the United States and France, Mr. Turner will be transferred to American custody to serve his sentence. He will be incarcerated in a U.S. federal facility for the duration of his sentence, and subject to American legal proceedings."
"It's almost over," Sabine whispered, taking Marinette's left hand in hers.
"Finally, considering the defendant, Nathalie Sanscoeur, has actively cooperated with the authorities, providing valuable information that led to the apprehension of defendants Lila Rossi and James Turner, this court acknowledges her assistance. In light of her cooperation and the unique circumstances of this case, the court is willing to take these factors into account. Therefore, for the charges of kidnapping, conspiracy to commit kidnapping and murder, and conspiracy to terrorism, the court sentences the defendant to a reduced term of 40 years with the possibility of parole in twenty-five years. The court also recognized that the defendant was impersonating a medical professional, which constitutes malpractice, and sentenced her to an additional 5 years in prison. Court is adjourned."
The judge struck the gavel with a definitive thud, the sound resonating through the courtroom. Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, Carapace, Pegasus, Viperion and her mother all turned toward her. She could feel their eyes on her, filled with concern, happiness, and love. Someone spoke, but she didn't really hear them.
She was free. It was truly over now. They would never hurt her again.
So why did she feel so fucking empty?
—
Marinette gazed at the street down below as she sat by the window. It felt weird, to see people going on with their daily routines. They were real. They had their own problems, their own concerns, their own sources of happiness. They didn't know anything about her or what she had gone through. Oh, how she envied them. She, too, wished she didn't know who she was. Not that she wished she was still living her life as Victoria. Never. Actually, she just wished she had never been born. Now, that would've made things much easier for her.
In the next room, she could hear her mother's and Tikki's hushed conversation. She knew they spoke about her, as they often did, but she didn't try to listen or understand their words. It was probably the same conversation as always; Marinette needed to eat more, she needed to see a psychiatrist, she was spiralling… She'd heard it all in the almost six months since Hawkmoth's defeat. But they didn't understand. They couldn't understand what she was going through. How hard it was to feel all of these feelings, while still being unable to put a word on them. They couldn't understand what it was like to have no sense of self, no idea of who they truly were.
Alya and Adrien had found her someone. A renowned psychiatrist, they'd said. Someone trustworthy. Ah, but no one truly was! No, Marinette couldn't bring herself to take this leap. Revealing herself, her identity, her fears, baring her soul and talking to someone about every painful memory—it was impossible. She couldn't do this. Marinette could already see it all so clearly; he would prescribe her some pills meant to calm her down. He would want her anxiety to be under control, would want to reduce her pain, to cure what Nino claimed was a depression. But she wouldn't let anyone force pills down her throat. Never again.
A gentle touch on her shoulder jolted her from her thoughts. Damn, was she easily startled nowadays.
"I'm sorry, ma chérie," Sabine said softly from behind her. "I called your name three times. Are you ready?"
Marinette hesitated, her gaze unfocused as she stared at her mom. "Ready? For wha… Oh, yes. I'll be there in a minute."
"Take your time," her mother replied, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on Marinette's forehead. "I'll be in the living room. Everything's ready. The movers will come tomorrow when we are gone."
Marinette nodded. "Okay, thanks."
As her mother left the room, Marinette's eyes roamed around the now-empty bedroom. She had spent years in this apartment in Los Angeles, sharing it with the people she used to hold close. And now, she was leaving it all behind while they rotted in prison. How the hell had this all happened? She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall as the memories started playing in her mind.
The miraculous cure swept through the city, its radiant light transforming the world around them. Marinette watched in fascination as the once-damaged surroundings regained their former glory. For a brief moment, it seemed like all was well again, until Adrien's grip on her tightened, and he gasped.
"Holy shit," he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper as he watched the buildings appear near them.
The buildings were all positioned strangely, as though some of them didn't have enough space, but Marinette figured it was normal. After all, Paris had probably changed a lot over the past seven years.
"What's wrong?" she asked, puzzled, her eyes locked on King Monkey and Pegasus, brought back to life by the cure.
"I haven't seen these places in years," Adrien replied, his voice tinged with awe as he turned towards her.
Marinette's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
She glanced around, only to realize that the miraculous cure was continuing to work its magic. People all around were screaming with joy and disbelief as the tiny ladybugs swirled in a mesmerizing dance, showing no sign of stopping anytime soon.
"I mean that these buildings around us were destroyed in an akuma fight four years ago, m'lady."
Marinette's eyes widened as the realization dawned upon her. "I don't… I don't understand."
Just then, Carapace approached them, his eyes filled with astonishment.
"LB, you're repairing everything!" he exclaimed.
"Everything?" she echoed, her voice trembling.
"Yes," Chat Noir confirmed, his gaze, filled with love, locked on her. "Everything."
Needless to say, adjusting to the changes had been incredibly challenging for everyone. At least, that's what Alya had said. But to be completely honest, Marinette hadn't been able to really think about it for a while, focused on her own overwhelming thoughts. She had, however, been surprised when she realized that not only buildings had reappeared; people had returned, too.
Those who had perished in akuma attacks since the Angel of Darkness had been revived, seemingly untouched by the passage of time. They were back, oblivious to the years that had passed, and it had led to some rather awkward and heart-wrenching situations. People had moved on, lives had evolved, and now they found themselves grappling with a world that no longer fitted nor wanted them.
Marinette had heard that the demand for psychiatrists in Paris had skyrocketed. It made sense. Many needed help to cope with the chaos that had followed the miraculous cure. Sometimes, she thought that the cure shouldn't have brought them all back. Maybe what was dead should've stayed dead. Maybe it would've been easier for everyone. She knew for sure things would've been easier for her—and perhaps for those who had to stay by her side now—if she had stayed dead after the Angel of Darkness. She wouldn't have to deal with her demons. And Adrien, Alya, Nino, and her mom, they wouldn't have to deal with her.
Other times, Marinette wished her dad had died in an akuma attack. She imagined the comfort of his strong, protective arms around her, the warmth of his embrace soothing her fears. If only she could have brought him back, she thought. But his passing had been natural, and she had been utterly powerless to stop it.
"I don't understand, Tikki," Marinette's voice trembled. "How did that happen?"
Tikki blinked at Marinette with a hint of surprise. "How did what happen, Marinette?"
"The cure."
"Oh!" Tikki's tiny face brightened with recognition. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this."
Marinette furrowed her brow. "Uh?"
"It's been three months," Tikki gently pointed out. "You do know that, right?"
Marinette's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? No, it hasn't! It's…" She stopped mid-sentence, realization dawning upon her. She'd been sleeping a lot lately, not really caring about anything. Barely eating, speaking even less. But … had she really lost track of time for three whole months?
"It was to protect you," Tikki continued.
"What do you mean?"
"If it were known that Ladybug and a random girl had returned, the world would have instantly figured out your true identity. It would have been far too conspicuous."
"So you brought them all back to protect my identity? That's what you're saying?"
"I don't think the media's undivided attention on you would have been good. They would have been relentless if they had known. But now, you're free."
"Free," Marinette echoed, the word feeling distant and elusive. "I don't know if I'll ever truly be free, Tikki."
"Yes, you will be. I promise. I would do anything to make sure you're safe; for real, this time."
Marinette slowly opened her eyes and sighed deeply. She lifted a hand to her cheek, surprised to find a solitary tear. Curious, she stared at the droplet that clung to her fingertip, as though the tear held the answers to all of her questions, even those she hadn't dared to ask yet. It was the first tear she had shed since their battle with Hawkmoth, she realized. Or had it been even longer? She struggled to remember if she had cried after her stolen memories had come back. Probably, but her memories were kind of hazy.
"Marinette?" her mother's voice called from the other room. "Are you coming?"
She gave herself a brisk nod, both as an affirmation to her mother, although she couldn't see it, and as a personal reassurance. "Yes, I'm ready."
And she was. She could do it. In a couple of hours, she would be free.
Truly, this time.
—
"Are you sure you want to do this, ma chérie?" her mother asked, her voice filled with concern, as she pulled the car to a stop.
Marinette, her gaze still fixed on the grey, unremarkable building before her, nodded slowly. "I have to, mom."
Her mother sighed. Marinette knew that those closest to her couldn't understand what she was doing. She had heard them talk when they thought she was asleep. They hadn't shared a real, long and meaningful conversation in months, and yet, here she was now. Parked outside this building, ready to take a step that didn't make sense to anyone but herself.
To them, it probably seemed stupid and useless, a cruel form of self-harm, but for Marinette, it was a step in the right direction. A necessary one toward healing and recovery. There were too many unresolved issues. Too many open doors left open.
Her cell phone buzzed, drawing her attention to the screen.
From: Chaton
I'm done here. Are you sure you don't want me there?
To: Chaton
I'm fine, I promise. We'll meet you at your apartment afterwards, and then we can head to the airport together.
From: Chaton
Alright. I'll be thinking about you. I love you, m'lady.
To: Chaton
I love you too ❤️
"Marinette?"
Marinette turned her gaze from her phone to her mother. "Yes, mom?"
"I just…" Sabine's voice wavered as she reached out to gently push a strand of hair away from Marinette's face. "I'm really proud of you, okay? I know I can't even begin to understand everything you've been going through, but I am so, so proud of you. And when you're ready to feel your emotions, when you're ready for me to hold you through the pain… I'll be there. I promise."
Marinette stood still, her mouth slightly ajar, her heart hammering in her chest.
"I know, mommy. I know. But I'm… I'm fine."
Sabine snorted softly, the sound laced with both pain and sadness, and then she reached for her daughter's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "No, you're not. And it's okay. No one is expecting you to be."
For a few moments, they sat in the car, their eyes locked onto their joined hands. Silence enveloped them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Eventually, Marinette let out a sigh.
"I have to go."
Sabine nodded, her gaze filled with understanding and concern. "Okay. I'll be waiting here. Are you sure you don't want Adrien to…"
"I'm sure," Marinette interjected gently, raising her hand to halt any further suggestions. "I don't… I love him, but I don't think he's the right person for this."
Sabine nodded again. "You're probably right."
Marinette took a deep breath, summoning a reserve of determination she wasn't sure she still possessed and then, opened the door. Her heart raced as she walked toward the imposing complex and her breaths came out in shallow, uneven gasps. Her chest felt tight with anxiety, but she didn't hesitate. She couldn't turn back now. She'd never thought she would ever willingly visit such a place in her life, but she had to. For herself, for her mental health, for her heart and soul.
The staff watched her with suspicious eyes as she entered the building. The cold atmosphere gripped her, chilling her to the bone, but she continued on. They searched her meticulously and she answered their questions in a voice that sounded foreign even to her own ears. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as her anxiety grew, her foot tapping the floor impatiently.
Finally, they called her name, breaking the silence. She rose from her seat, her steps robotic as they led her through dimly lit corridors. Her heart hammered against her chest and for a moment, she wondered if she was going to be sick, but she reminded herself, again and again and again, like a mantra, that she could do this.
She sat down on one side of a small table, a thick pane of glass separating her from the other side. Her trembling hand reached for the phone that sat before her, and with a deep breath, she lifted it to her ear. And then, only then, did she look up.
Her gaze met a pair of eyes that were at once familiar and unfamiliar. There was a tense silence between them, and she found herself unable to speak for a moment. But after a while, she finally managed to murmur, her voice unsteady and filled with emotions she couldn't quite name, "Hello, Dylan."