Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug or Supernatural.
The Far-traveled Road
"Talking"
"Thinking
"Chloé's back."
Two words. They were enough to make Paris's heroes stop and look at Alya. It certainly wasn't a way they wanted to start a long lunch with.
"Babe, are you kidding?" Nino asked his wife. Her expression said otherwise but he had to ask.
She shook her head. "I heard it from my mom. Le Grand Paris got the news she has ownership now that her dad passed away." That sounded all too much like Chloé to her. Something was presented to her and she would take it and run it to the ground.
Félix had the same opinion. "Fifteen years and she came back because she gets something out of it? Why am I not surprised?" he asked, rolling his eyes. Kagami, his wife, tightened her eyes. That was the only indicator of her feelings.
While the others nodded in agreement, Marinette noticed Adrien was frowning. "What's on your mind?" she asked her husband.
The others turned their attention onto him. "Why so long?" he said. The question baffled them. "She could've come back sooner. Why now?"
It was annoying that he had a point. After her debacle as Queen Mayor, Paris had celebrated the fact Chloé Bourgeois was exiled by her own father. But since Mayor André still loved his daughter, he limited the exile to only five years and would not budge on the matter. Yet, when the five years had passed, Chloé never returned. As far as anyone knew, she was still in America.
Kim answered Adrien's question. "She's here to take over the hotel. We just discussed this." As much as he didn't want to sound obvious, his tone implied otherwise.
"We should also focus on something much worrisome," Max said. "If Chloé is back, then the chances that she'll come looking for us are close to 100%." He looked across the table at Sabrina. "You in particular."
His worried look was quickly matched by everyone. Sabrina had done well for herself since school, having found the confidence to stand on her own, be her own person. She became a contract lawyer and now worked at a prestigious law firm. Her friends knew this, but there was still a chance that Chloé would get her back.
Sabrina might've been hurt by their doubt, if she didn't share it. But she didn't let it show. "If she thinks that I'm the same person back then, she'll be wrong," she declared.
It was nice to see her feel confident. Alix certainly thought it was good. "Even so, we should be careful," she said. "Let's keep in contact with each other. If Chloé comes looking for us, we can be ready."
"Do you mean on the job or off it?" Rose asked. Everyone at the table knew who they were. It would've been impossible not to after fifteen years working together. Still, these lunch meetings were one of the few times they could meet as civilians.
"Let's see what happens before we do anything," Marinette said, taking charge. "If Chloé does come looking for us, we can use the opportunity to ask about Zoé."
The name rang in their ears with a sadful tone, as it always did. The last any of them had seen Zoé was when she boarded her flight to America. She often split her time between Paris and New York. The last time, Audrey Bourgeois had asked (more like demanded) that she come back so they could spend time together. Zoé promised them all she would be back, with news about her sister.
Two weeks later, Marinette received a package. It had been Pollen's Miraculous, wrapped around a newspaper about the Queen of Fashion, Audrey Bourgeois, tragically dying in a fire along with her daughter. The fact that Pollen had been returned told Marinette which daughter had died. Everyone mourned the loss of their friend, and a fellow hero.
But they were left with questions and there was only one person who could give them answers: Chloé.
Marc didn't like the mood hanging over the table. This was supposed to be a chance for them to relax ad catch up outside of the masks. What they needed was a change in conversation. "So, Marinette, Adrien, how are your kids doing?" he asked. "Have they tried getting into the modeling business yet?" Last time he checked, Louis and Emma were quite keen on the idea.
His tactic worked. Marinette and Adrien happily chatted about their children, which got the rest of the parents involved. The mood quickly brightened and all thoughts of their problems, in and out of the masks, were put to the side.
Unfortunately, Max's guess about Sabrina was proven right. The day after their lunch, Sabrina went to work as usual. Her good mood carried her through the front door, up the elevator, and to her office. The office was a recent reward, in part to her hard work and good standing with the firm. It might've been a little small but she loved it all the same.
She walked in and her good mood froze before dying. "Chloé."
Her old friend (for lack of a better word) looked at her. For a brief moment, a faint hope shined in her eyes. Then it vanished and the eyes turned neutral. "Good morning, Ms. Raincomprix," she said. Her voice now had an accent to it, an American one. "I was told this was your office and I could wait for you."
Sabrina took a breath, to settle her nerves, and sat down at her desk. "Why are you here?" she asked, getting right to the point. It was best to control the meeting. This was her office, her space. She was in control here.
Chloé placed a folder on the desk and pushed it across. "I need you to look this over, see if there's anything missing or loopholes that could be harmful," she said. "How long would you need?"
If it had been anyone else, it would've sounded like a typical meeting between a lawyer and client. But this was Chloé, and she sounded much like she had back in school. Sabrina eyed the folder briefly and then looked at her. "I'm a busy woman. Do you expect me just to drop everything and do this for you?"
Much to her surprise, Chloé shook her head. "No. That's why I asked how long you would need."
Oh, right. She had said that. While embarrassing, Sabrina put it to the side, staying professional. "Four days." It was a little lie. She could look the folder over and have an answer within the day. But the bold part of her, the part that said she wasn't who she used to be, wanted to push and see how Chloé would react.
The woman in question considered the folder and then nodded. "Alright." She pulled out a piece of a paper and scribbled out a number. "You'll be able to reach me here. Call me when you're done."
"Of course." The number was taken and put to the side. It could be worried about later. "I'm not doing this as a favor, Chloé," she started.
Chloé quickly cut her off. "Of course not. Once everything is done, a percentage will be your commission." She stood up. "Good day, Ms. Raincomprix."
Again, she was surprised. This was all above board and wouldn't sound out of place from anyone else. But this was Chloé. Something was bound to be up. Sabrina opened the folder and looked at the contract. It only took an initial read to floor her. "You're selling the hotel?" The words slipped out at a volume that filled the room.
Chloé paused at the door and glanced back. "Yes." The word was short and blunt.
"But…why?"
She sighed and faced her. "I don't know how to run a business, much less a hotel. Doing this is for the best of Le Grand Paris and its employees," she said. "A buyer is already lined up and once your part is done, the deal will be finalized." Her gaze remained cool throughout it all. "Now, is there anything else, Ms. Raincomprix?"
Maybe it was due to how she spoke during the meeting, or the fact she was selling her father's hotel, but Sabrina took another look at Chloé. What she saw stunned the lawyer.
Chloé had always demanded the best in fashion. If her clothes had a speck of dust or didn't coordinate, she wouldn't leave her room until it was fixed. Just like if her makeup wasn't perfect or a single strand of her hair was out of place. More than that, she had always carried herself with a superior attitude. Whenever she went, she behaved as if she was the best thing there. If someone objected, or she didn't get her away, she would do her best (or worst) to change that. And she hadn't been afraid to use her father as a threat.
But the woman standing before Sabrina wasn't that girl. Her outfit was a simple pair of jeans and shirt, all underneath a brown jacket that showed plenty of wear and tear. Her hair now hung in a bob cut instead of the ponytail. There were a few uneven edges to it. Sabrina wondered if she had been cutting it herself. There were no sunglasses on her brow and her makeup was minimum at best. And she was wearing boots! Chloé never wore boots, not even if her life had depended on it.
Yet it was Chloé's eyes that stood out the most. When they were kids, those blue eyes had no trouble expressing what she thought, whether it be anger, irritation, or smug satisfaction. But now, the eyes were guarded, weary. They were expecting trouble and looked for danger.
Even from Sabrina.
It stung a little, if she was honest. She knew their relationship had been damaged. But that didn't mean a new one couldn't happen. All that was needed was an offered hand. So she smiled and asked, "How have you been, Chloé? We hadn't heard from you in years."
The faint hope flickered in Chloé's eyes again, staying for a moment longer. Then it was gone. "If I had called, would any of you had picked up?" she asked. Sabrina's silence was answer enough. "Don't worry. I'll be gone soon enough. Once the hotel's been sold, I'm flying back to the States." She reached for the knob and pulled the door open. "Goodbye, Ms. Raincomprix."
The name finally struck Sabrina, echoing with the door closing. Not once had Chloé said her name. She had been polite but professional. That was it. Strange as it might've been, it hurt Sabrina. It told her that Chloé had changed, that she didn't expect or even hope for forgiveness from her or the others.
Sabrina started to look the contract over, already planning to text the others about what happened. They shouldn't be caught off-guard like she had been.
(Days later, when she finally got her commission, the number caused an undignified yelp that she would not talk about.)
As it turned out, Sabrina hadn't been the only one who learned about Le Grand Paris. Chloé had called a meeting for its employees and Alya had gone with her mother, as support and possibly catching a story. She still wasn't sure who was more surprised by Chloé's announcement, her or the hotel's staff.
Still, it was enough for everyone to pay attention. But as the days passed, no one heard of anything involving Chloé. If it hadn't been for Sabrina's warning, the heroes would've thought she was a ghost. They didn't even know about what happened next until after the fact.
Chloé stood outside the patisserie, taking it in. The store hadn't changed. Even the sign was the same, golden letters against a black background. The insides were the same, a small space that was welcoming instead of cramped, with the warm smell of bread in the air.
The only real difference were the two kids manning the counter. "Hi!" chirped the girl with a wave. "Welcome to the patisserie!"
It was hard for Chloé not to stare as she approached. But the details she saw all but screamed themselves. "Hello," she replied. "You two seem a bit young to be working here."
The boy waved her question off. It was a familiar motion, quick with energy. It matched his blue eyes. "It's alright. This is our grandparents' shop, and we help when we come over," he told her.
She glanced at the food behind the glass. "Then what would you recommend I get?"
"Our chocolate croissants are fresh, just out of the oven," the girl told her. "You try just one and you'll never find any better!"
"Really?"
She nodded, quite determined. "You bet!"
Chloé knew that look. She had seen it plenty of times on someone else. "Alright, I'll take one chocolate croissant—"
The backdoor opened and Sabine Dupain-Cheng stepped out. She saw Chloé and her warm smile froze. "Louis, Emma," she said, her eyes never leaving the customer. "Your grandfather needs some help in the kitchen."
Chloé waited until the door closed before she spoke. "Hello, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng." Even though the woman's hair had gone grey and there were wrinkles on her face, it didn't mean she had lost a step.
"What are you doing here?" The words were calm, but they didn't hide the warning.
She pointed to the glass. "Getting a croissant. I missed lunch." Getting kicked out wouldn't have been a surprise for her. If anything, she was almost expecting it.
But the older woman was a professional. The croissant was placed in a little bag, and she rang it up. Her eyes never left Chloé as she paid and took the bag. "Enjoy." It was a customary word and did nothing to hide the frostiness.
Chloé glanced at the backdoor once more. "Your grandchildren are nice," she said. "Your daughter and Adrien must be proud." She could've guessed who Adrien would marry, even before she came back. Yet, seeing that boy who had his mother's eyes and his father's hair while his sister had Emilie's smile, it was all the more obvious.
"Yes, they are." Mrs. Dupain-Cheng didn't move from her spot. She didn't have to. The frost in her eyes spoke enough. She didn't want this intruder in her home.
Questions about the wedding, and which one of them proposed, floated through Chloé's head. But that look from the grandmother put those thoughts to rest. Those eyes never left her back, not until she closed the door and stepped outside.
Her stomach growled, wanting to be fed now. She didn't get much further than the park before sitting down. One bite was all it took to remind Chloé why that patisserie was the best in the city. The bread was warm and fluffy, mixing well with the chocolate. The flavors slid down into her stomach, leaving a pleasant mix of warmth and taste in its wake.
It didn't take long for her to finish the croissant and she was left sitting on the bench. She looked up and saw the school across the street. Her surprise was brief, then quickly overtaken by nostalgia. "That hasn't changed," she thought as she stared at the entrance. She could just picture the end of the day, all the students running out of the doors and heading home. Some would be picked up, others would walk. Most would take their time, talking to their…
Chloé stopped the thought before it finished. It wouldn't do her any good. She had never done any of that. She stood up, ready to leave, when a voice said, "Chloé?"
She looked over and saw her old teacher. "Ms. Bustier." She had certainly aged with grace. If it hadn't been for the slight wrinkles around her eyes, Chloé would've thought she hadn't gotten older at all.
Ms. Bustier took a moment to look her former student over. The differences were surprising, but she went with it. "You look well, Chloé. Have you been doing well?"
"I've been living, making some money as a French tutor," she answered. "Do you still teach?"
"Oh, no. Not in years." The air started to feel awkward. The fact Chloé's eyes regarded her with caution was unsettling. "Did you like your time in America? I hope you were able to make some new friends there." She thought it was a safe question to ask.
It wasn't. "Did I like it there?" Fury flashed through Chloé's eyes, burning so bright they actually scared her old teacher. "The second we landed in New York my mother dragged me to the toughest boarding school there. She told the principal that if I was to get into any trouble that he was to assume it was my fault. Word got passed down to the teachers and the students. Some of them decided that meant they could have free reign over me. The American version of me certainly liked that." Her bitterness didn't bother to hide itself.
"What do you mean?"
What else could she mean? How much did she have to spell it out? "Her name was Rachel Donaldson, and she ruled the school. If she wanted something, she got it, and if someone was stupid enough to stand against her, she made sure they regretted it." She looked Ms. Bustier right in the eyes. "You can imagine what decision I made in my arrogance. Whatever you thought of me, she was worse."
"Chloé—"
She wasn't done. "Yes, I bullied people. I made their lives miserable, even try to ruin their work. But I never laid a hand on anyone. She had no problem doing that." The memories came back hard. She wanted to push them away, but she couldn't stop talking. "I lost count of how many times I was slammed into lockers, shoved to the ground, or punched. If I got any new or good clothes, it didn't take long for them to get ruined. Every time I tried to get her reported, the teachers did as my mother said and blamed me. The best they gave me was treating my injuries.
"Do you want to know what she did that finally broke me?" she asked her old teacher. "One night, I was studying, trying to get my homework done, when that bitch and her girls decided it would be funny to toss me outside and lock the door. And to make it extra humiliating, they stripped me. I spent hours outside, naked and in the rain, pounding on the door, screaming for someone to let me in. By the time someone did, I had nearly lost all sense of warmth. And when I got to my room, my homework had been stolen and my notes ruined. We had a test the next day, an important one, and I damn near flunked it. To top it off, I got a cold that nearly turned into pneumonia and all my mother could say when she visited was that I was only proving her right.
"And you wanna know why Rachel did all this? She thought I was getting a little too comfortable and needed reminding just where I stood in that school." The speech left her breathing heavily. The memories were still there, still strong. She had to fight to get them down back where they belong. It took a moment.
Caline didn't know what to think. As much as she hoped Chloé would learn actions had consequences, she didn't think it would be taken this far. "Why didn't the principal punish her?" she asked.
"Rachel was his daughter," she answered. The implications were left unsaid.
"…I'm sorry, Chloé."
The apology was well-meant, and she was glad for it. But it was too little, too late. "What happened was a wakeup call," she said. "Yes, I realized how much of a brat I was back then. But the fault isn't just mine." This time, she gave her old teacher a hard glare. "Have you ever thought just much I might've been different if I had adults that actually told me no? That didn't let me do whatever I wanted? That stopped me from going too far? I might've been a horrible person, but you people enabled me."
"I know."
Whatever momentum she was gaining in her rant died at those words. "You…know?" she replied.
Ms. Bustier nodded with solemn eyes. "We were aware of our mistakes, Chloé. More than once I've talked with the other teachers and Mr. Damocles about how we could've done things differently. Your father was much the same. I know it's not much consideration for you, but we tried not to let it happen again."
She meant it, each word she spoke. Ms. Bustier regretted what happened fifteen years ago, just like she did. There was some satisfaction for Chloé, but it was tempered by a simple fact.
It was still too little, too late, for both sides.
She wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence. But there were no words. Anything she could've said just seemed less. A sound erupted from Ms. Bustier's phone. It was a sound Chloé hadn't heard in over a decade. But she knew what it meant all the same, just like Ms. Bustier's panicked look. "You gotta be fucking kidding me!" she swore. "I thought Hawkmoth had been beaten!"
"He was." Caline tried to be reassuring but she was more focused on the alert. The akuma was a familiar one, in a different arrondissement, and the heroes were already on the scene. She breathed a little easier at that.
Chloé noticed the breath. "It's handled, then?" she asked, getting a nod in reply. Questions bounded about in her mind. How long had this Hawkmoth been active? How did he operate? What did he want?
That last one was obvious. The rest? That was legwork.
She left in silence. Caline watched as the woman Chloé Bourgeois now was walked away. For some reason, it felt as if she would never see her again.
After that, Chloé did make appearances, in that she was seen in public libraries. It was a sight that surprised many of the heroes. The first time Max saw Chloé sitting in front of a library computer, he almost ran into a bookshelf. It would've been funny, if he hadn't seen what she was been looking up: Hawkmoth.
That was a problem that showed in the past couple of years. They had been doing what they could to fight him but much like the original, he kept himself hidden. Now that Chloé was researching him, Max could guess what she wanted to do. If she got caught up on what happened, she would try to find the heroes and demand to be part of the action, even wanting Pollen back.
That's what they expected to happen, but it didn't. Once Chloé was done with her research, she didn't do anything else about it. In fact, the next time the heroes heard about her was from Alya. She rejected the buyer's offer outright, finding another buyer. No one was sure why she did it but they could guess the second buyer had offered more money.
It was Rose and Juleka who encountered her next. Well, "encountered" was a strong word. They had seen her walking down a street when she stopped and called out, "Sam? Elieen?"
A man across the street looked her way, same as the woman beside him. They were an older couple, by about twenty years, and wore their age with pride, just like their greying hair. "Chloé?" the man said in an American accent, just as surprised as she was.
She smiled, an actual happy smile, before rushing over and giving the man a hug. The height difference couldn't have been more obvious. If the smile hadn't stunned Rose and Juleka, the hug floored them. Chloé didn't stop there, also giving the woman a hug. "What are you two doing here?" she asked. The smile hadn't left, only toned down.
"Dean finally convinced us to go on a vacation," Sam said. "Bought the tickets and everything." His wife nudged his shoulder and signed something. "Alright, fine. He surprised us with the tickets," he admitted with a fond smile, signing as he spoke.
That alone made Chloé laugh. "Sounds like Dean," she said. "I'm so proud of him."
"You would be. You're the one who taught him those tricks." His accusation might've been serious, if it wasn't the knowing smiles he and his wife had.
"Excuse me?" Chloé said, clearly pretending to be affronted. "I was his French tutor. Such things would be beneath me."
"You were also the one who started him in the business." The accusation was a little more serious, matching the look in his eyes. Rose shivered as she leaned into Juleka. His look might not have been directed at them, but it showed the man could be scary when he wanted.
But Chloé wasn't affected. "I wanted to learn from the best and he wanted to join," she said, her expression firm. "I gave him the chance to say no, Sam."
The look faded and he sighed. "I know." His resignation of the fact was clear, just as much as it was old. He looked at the street, at Paris. "Care to walk with us for a bit?" he asked Chloé.
Her resolve faded, replaced with a bright smile. "Sure, I've got nothing to do."
Rose and Juleka shared one look before deciding to follow them. Rose sent a short text to everyone, alerting of what they were doing. "So, how's Claire?" Sam asked. "You still working with her and Kaia?" The three of them looked quite natural as they walked. A stranger could've been forgiven thinking it was a woman with her parents.
Chloé shook her head. "No. We split off about five years ago. Said I was too old to be their sidekick."
"We heard about what happened at Woodpine." She flashed him a look, only to get a proud smile. "That's what made they think you were ready. You did what you thought was right."
She looked away. If Rose didn't know any better, she would've thought it was out of embarrassed pride. "Yeah, well, I had to. Seeing it from the other side was a slap to the face I couldn't ignore. And they pretty much said the same thing. We still partner up if we're in the same area." The warmth in her words showed what she thought about it. "The car was a nice gift."
"Haven't crashed it yet?" Sam asked with a knowing smile.
"No!" she replied. "It's quite safe. I left it with Jody." Elieen signed something that made Chloé shake her head. "No, I haven't talked to the locals. I'm not here for that."
Rose thought that odd. Chloé had been seen out in the city and she had talked to people. So, who were the "locals" she mentioned. It was curious. But then Rose's curiosity came to a conclusion: what if Chloé was talking about them?
Was she actively avoiding them?
"Chloé," said Sam, "have you gone to see your father yet?"
The question made her falter and stop. When the couple looked back, she was staring at the ground. "…How did you know about that?" she asked after a long moment.
"Claire."
It was enough of an answer for her (their observers were still puzzled). "I haven't yet. It's…it's hard."
Elieen reached out, touching her shoulder. It was a gentle touch, one that brought her eyes. Whatever the woman signed, neither Rose nor Juleka understood. All they knew was it was long. But Chloé did and so she smiled. "Thanks, Elieen. You're right."
After that, the conversation drifted off into Paris. Sam and Elieen would tell Chloé about the sights they had seen so far, and she would offer other things to try. She even recommended a restaurant for a dinner. That sight alone was surprising for the heroes listening in. The Americans happily took her suggestion, promising her they would try it.
They parted aways at the Métro station. Chloé waved goodbye as the couple walked down the steps. Once they were gone, she turned, the warmth fading from her face, and looked through the crowd right at Rose and Juleka.
It was clear they had been caught. Juleka wanted to walk away, act like nothing had happened. But Chloé pointed at the spot in front of her. They both started walking before they realized what was happening and couldn't stop.
Chloé's glare was fairly impressive as she stared them down. "So," she began, "do you spy on all the people you don't like, or am I special?" No one believed her civil tone. The burning in her blue eyes said it all. She was angry.
No, it was more than that. She was furious.
Rose had thought she knew what Chloé had been like furious. It had been a lot of yelling and tantrums until she got what she wanted. Only now, Rose realized she was wrong. This was furious. "Chloé—"
"Save it," she snapped. "I don't want to hear it. Elieen saw you instantly. You—" She stopped, closed her eyes and took a breath. Her eyes were cooler, but the fury was still there. "Just go." She turned and walked away, as if nothing was wrong.
Didn't stop Rose or Juleka from feeling as if they crossed a line.
It was Adrien who found her next. This time, it was a little intentional.
He had gone to his father's grave, paying his respects, and saw Chloé when he was leaving. She was standing before her father's tombstone, just staring with somber eyes. It lasted until she saw who was coming over. "Hey, Chloé," Adrien said with a warm smile.
It wasn't returned. "Adrien." He had grown taller over the years. His hair had grown long, long enough to be put in a tail, and he had a beard. His clothes were casual but had a respectful quality to them.
He knew he should've expected it, but it was surprising to not hear "Adrikins." The way she just stood there, watching him without a word, it made the air turn awkward. "So, how has Paris been?" he asked.
"Pretty much the same."
There had been a few changes but only if someone looked for them. He wondered if she had. "Have you been to any of the old spots?"
"No, and I don't plan to." She paused and considered him for a moment. "Glory Days was playing on the radio before I got to the airport. It helped make my decision. I was going to Paris, do what needed to be done, and then I would leave." She wouldn't be the person who preferred to relive the good old days.
It struck a chord with him. But something else also stuck out. He knew that song and who played it. "I didn't think you'd willingly listen to Springsteen."
"Things are different."
"So, we've heard. Ms. Bustier said you're teaching French now?"
He was fishing. It was blatant how he was fishing. Well, if he wanted to know… "It's a side-hustle."
"Then what do you do?"
"I am a hunter."
It took a moment for Adrien to understand what she had said. He wanted to laugh at the image because he just could not see it. "You actually go after wild animals for a living?" he asked, wanting to be sure. It took a lot of effort to keep the smile off his face.
But she wasn't laughing. "Not that kind of hunter." Her words will chilly, brokering no humor. "I hunt the things that go after humans. Monsters, evil creatures, demons." There was nothing in her words that said she was joking.
There was nothing Adrien could say to that. He was a superhero, had been for the past two decades. Even he realized that were some things he didn't know about. This would be one of them. It was something he would investigate later.
Chloé turned her gaze back to the tombstone. Reading her father's name softened her eyes, then her face. For a moment, she was the girl Adrien had known. "He missed you, y'know," he said. Her eyes flickered up to him. "He hoped that you would come back when your exile was over, asked us if we had any word. He would've even taken a phone call."
Guilt washed across her face. "I wanted to call," she said in a quiet voice. "More than a few people encouraged me. But each time I reached for a phone, that one question made me stop."
"What question?"
"If he knew the truth, about my mother." It was the question that she was always scared of asking. If she heard the answer she didn't want, it would be the line too far.
A sense of dread filled Adrien. It told him that if he asked the question, he would regret it. But he wanted to know. If it could tell him a little bit about what happened, he should take it. "What truth?"
Something snapped in Chloé's eyes, leaving them dead. "It's quite the story. At the start of her career in fashion, my mother summoned a crossroad demon to make a deal. She even got a bargain out of it: she would stand at the top of the fashion industry, be lauded and respect by everyone, for twenty years. Then the demon would come and collect her soul. Well, naturally, she started thinking of ways to wiggle free. And she thought, why not offer up another soul when the time came? One that had her blood? Surely that would be enough."
His eyes widened as she spoke, growing in horror by the second. "You…you don't mean—?"
"Yes," she all but hissed. "That's why she never cared to remember my name or if I was exceptional. I wasn't a daughter to her. I was a fucking proxy. Someone she'd use so she could keep on going." A bitter chuckle crept out between her lips. "And Zoé? If she had already one, why not two? A spare was always a good thing, right?"
As horrified as he was, Adrien knew that was something Audrey Bourgeois would do. That just added to the horror. "The fire…?"
"The day of reckoning. She drugged me and Zoé. Easier to drag us down to the basement and tie us. When I came to, she was already talking to the demon, trying to have him take us instead." The sneer came without thought, as did the memory. "He didn't give a fuck what she wanted. But he was glad that he could get two more souls out of the deal. She didn't like that and screamed he was fired. He just grinned and said, 'What a great idea!'"
The memory was so vivid, she could still feel the flash of heat against her skin as the basement started burning. Unfortunately, that was the last clear memory. "I don't remember how either of us got free. Maybe one of the ropes caught fire or had a weak knot. I don't know. What I do remember was the both of us ran out of that basement." Her voice wanted to break, but she refused to let it. "Zoé was right behind me. I know she was. But when I got outside…she wasn't." And it wasn't until the paramedics told her she was the only survivor that it struck home. She didn't even realize she had been holding Pollen's box until someone asked her to let go.
Adrien didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected all of that. Even though he had been warned Chloé was different, even though he had thought himself ready, what he learned shocked him. "I'm sorry." They were pitiful words but they were all he had.
The dead look in her eyes vanished, leaving behind a steely resolve. "Happy now?" she asked. "You learned what happened to Zoé. That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?"
"It wasn't just that," he protested.
"Yes, it was. Zoé was your friend, the one who died. Not me."
"Chloé, you—"
Her finger snapped up and pointed at him. "Don't," she ordered. "Don't finish that sentence. Adrien Agreste. You were the one who said our friendship was over." She was right and they both knew it. She sighed as the finger came down. "Not that I can't blame you."
It was the frankness that surprised Adrien. "What?" he asked.
"I might not have called any of you after I left, but none of you tried looking for me. And you weren't wrong." She looked at her father's grave again and the anger bled out. She sighed, looking tired. She walked away, leaving him amongst the graves.
Once they were alone, Adrien's partner flew out of his pocket. "Plagg…?"
The black kwami was solemn in his seriousness. "She wasn't joking, Adrien. There are things out there you haven't dealt with yet. And hopefully, you never will."
If that had been the end of things, everyone would've been fine with it. As far as they knew, the hotel was sold, which meant Chloé's business was done. It was just a matter of time before she went back to the States.
But it wasn't meant to be.
Ladybug and Chat Noir were called to the police station two nights after the graveyard meeting. That by itself wasn't surprising. After nearly two decades, the police had a policy of keeping the heroes informed. More than a few criminal organizations got busted thanks to their partnership.
That was what the duo expected when they arrived. It turned out to be anything but. They were led to the morgue and saw the woman they had known as Lila Rossi on the slab, with a knife wound to the heart. Among her effects had been a purple brooch, one they instantly recognized. It was the Butterfly Miraculous.
Which meant Lila Rossi had been the latest Hawkmoth.
If that had been surprising, what they learned next utterly floored them: Chloé Bourgeois had been the one who killed her, and was currently in a jail cell.
That was the part Ladybug had trouble believing. "She called it in and didn't resist arrest?" she asked the inspector in charge of the case. While the rest of the squad room tried going about their business, they were also trying to keep an ear on things.
Inspector Trembly nodded. He was a recent transfer from Lyons, so it was understandable that he stared at them. "She claimed that it was in self-defense. That she had managed to grab her assailant's knife and turn it against her." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Most of the prints we found on the knife were the victim's. But there were no security cameras anywhere near the street they were found."
"So all you have is Ms. Bourgeois's testimony," Chat Noir said.
"According to her testament, she received a note at her hotel room, telling her to come to the street in question at 8pm. Ten minutes after 8, we received a call from Ms. Bourgeois about the crime and that she did it." The phone on his desk rang once. It was a quick call. "She's coming up, with her lawyer," he told the heroes.
All eyes turned to the elevator when the doors opened. Chloé was handcuffed but acted like she had been asked to come in. Beside her was the American, Sam. His clothes were nice, the kind one would be expected to wear at a good restaurant. Yet it was the serious expression he wore that drew attention. As soon as those brown eyes found him, Chat Noir knew this was a man to be respected.
"Inspector," the American said once they approached the desk, "do you still have my client's phone?" He was professional in his manner, keeping his attention on the inspector only. His accent was a bit thick but understandable.
"I do, Mr. Winchester."
"My client was making a video log before the incident. She believes that she might've left it recording."
The evidence bag was still on his desk. He pulled the phone free and held it out to Chloé. "The password, miss?"
She put it in and handed the phone back. "Should be the latest video."
The phone was put back on the desk as the video started. Chloé's face popped up. "Hey, Zoé," she began. "Well, I'm back in Paris. Some things have changed. The rest hasn't." An amused smirk crossed her lips. "Y'know, seeing those long lines outside the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower, they seem funnier now than back when we were kids." The smirk faded as sadness crept across her face. "Speaking of kids, I seem to keep running into old faces. It's like they're expecting me to do something that'll cause a mess."
"Chloé Bourgeois, is that you?" Lila's voice called from off-screen. She sounded surprised. Ladybug wasn't convinced. Neither was her partner.
The sadness disappeared, replaced by a frown. "I just had to mention old faces." The screen shifted until it showed the rooftops and evening sky. Chloé was heard walking off. "What do you want, Rossi?" Her voice was distant but could still be heard clearly.
"Oh, that's not my name. I'm sorry, didn't anyone—"
"Save it," Chloé cut her off. "I couldn't care less."
"There's no need to be rude, Chloé." Lila's voice changed, losing the innocent sweetness. "After all, why can't two old friends meet?"
"Not what I would've called us. What do you want, Rossi?"
"Well, I was quite upset about how you pushed my offer aside for the hotel." The heroes shared a quick look. Neither of them, nor their team, had known Lila tried to buy Le Grande Paris. "And it was such a generous one too. Why, that other group didn't offer as much as I did. So why refuse it?"
"Because it was your company." Chloé's answer was blunt yet had an edge to it. There was a quiet moment before she spoke again. "What, did you think I wouldn't do my research? The hotel was my father's work. I was going make sure it went to the right hands. That meant looking whoever was trying to buy it."
"…How could you tell?" There was a slow burning rage in her question. "I made sure my name wasn't on the paperwork." That got a lot of interested looks from the cops.
"You mean the one name you thought I would recognize?" Chloé asked back. There was no doubting the smug superiority in her voice. "Like I said, I did my research."
"Good for you." No one needed to see the snarl to know it was there. "Well, it's no matter. You'll sell the hotel to me."
Chloé sighed in exasperation. "Rossi, the sell has already been made. I couldn't sell it to you even if I wanted to."
"It's not official until you've both sign the deed. And I've got it on good authority they haven't signed their part yet. That'll give you enough time to reconsider and choose differently."
"No."
"Oh, you will, Bourgeois. Don't forget what I can do."
A dismissive laugh echoed out of the phone. "What? You gonna tell lies about me? In case you've forgotten Rossi, I haven't been in Paris in fifteen years. What are you gonna do, tell people I was being mean?"
"I only tell people what they want to hear. A few words in the right ears and I can send your daddy's precious hotel into the gutter. No one would want to touch it and they would all blame you. So why don't you just cut to the chase and hand it over? I'll be considerate and keep the original offer."
The following silence felt long, even though it was only seconds. "…This isn't about me, is it? You just want the hotel as a place to use. Against whom? Dupain-Cheng?" There was no answer to her question. Which was answer enough. "It is, isn't it? You're still going after her." Chloé's laugh was clear in its disbelief. "Christ, Rossi, how pathetic are you?"
"What?" The question was almost screeched.
"It's been two decades and you're still gunning for her? Let it go already. She's won, plain and simple. There's nothing you can do about it." It was only thanks to her years of experience that Ladybug stayed professional. Still, hearing Chloé Bourgeois say that made her want to start dancing.
"It's not over yet, not until I say so! Now, give me that hotel, Bourgeois!"
"Hey, what's with the knife?"
"You—"
"Whoa, hey! Keep away! No, don't!"
The sounds of a struggle filled the phone, and the squad room. It ended when they heard the knife pierce flesh, and someone gasped in surprise. A body fell and for the next few seconds, nothing happened. Then Chloé's face appeared on the screen, blood splattered across her face.
After that, the video ended. "Well, it seems my client clearly acted in self-defense," Mr. Winchester said, breaking the silence. "It also seems clear that the victim meant to coerce my client and threatened her with a knife. Which, if I remember correctly, is illegal in France."
"It is," Captain Raincomprix said from where he stood near the back. To Chloé, the only real change he had was the loss of his hair and the uniform. He watched her with a wary expression. It was shared by many of the older cops.
"There's still the matter of the last akuma," said one of the beat cops.
Chloé looked his way. "What do you mean?"
Chat Noir answered her. "The last akuma victim, Henri Escoffer, he said he was akumatized because of you. Or rather, his fear of you."
She blinked, once, twice, and then asked, "Is there a photo of him?" Thanks to policy regarding akumas and their victims, a photo of a nervous-looking man was given to her. "…I don't know him," she said as she looked over the image.
"He said he was the grade below you at Collège Françoise Dupont," Ladybug told her.
"That means nothing." She jabbed the photo. "I haven't seen this man at all since I arrived in Paris." She looked at Captain Raincomprix. "May I ask when and where he was akumatized?" She knew he would have the details.
He didn't disappoint. "Yesterday, around 1pm in the 14th arrondissement."
"I was walking through the Champs-Élysées, on the other side of the river." Her eyes started to burn as she considered the room and the cops. "Are you seriously telling me I'm being held responsible for a man, who I've never met and hadn't even talked to, being akumatized?"
"It's a factor we have to consider, miss," Captain Raincomprix answered. But even he couldn't look her in the eyes.
"A factor!? Ridic—!" She stopped short, closed her eyes, and breathed deep. She repeated the exercise three more times before she stopped looking mad. Didn't mean she wasn't. "Can I go?" she asked through semi-clenched teeth.
Sabrina's father nodded. "Take the handcuffs off," he ordered. "This was clearly self-defense." Chloé wasted no time taking her things back once her hands were freed.
"We'll escort her out," Ladybug told him. Not a single eye left them as they left. It was only when the elevator closed that Captain Raincomprix breathed out in relief.
Inside the elevator, the air could've been awkward if all four occupants were aware of each other. But instead, Sam focused on his client. "Chloé, are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she answered. Her teeth were still clenched. "I'm seriously considering suing the Paris Police for gross stupidity, but I'm fine."
Ladybug came to the police's defense. "It's important to understand why the victims were akumatized," she pointed out. "If that's figured out, the chances of it not happening again grow. Like Mr. Escoffer's fear of you."
"I never met the man," she repeated. "It was his own fear that did it, not anything I could've done." She stopped and looked forward. "There's no point talking about it." After a moment, her eyes glanced to the American. "Sam, did I interrupt something for you?"
"Well, Elieen and I were about to go out for dinner."
"Sorry." Ladybug and Chat Noir did their best not to look surprised. Chloé was actually apologizing to someone?
"Don't worry, Chloé. We weren't going anywhere that needed a reservation. Actually, I'm surprised that we were able to get you out so quick."
"Not that surprising," she said, looking down at the floor. "After all these years, no one wants to deal with me." She didn't bother to hide the bitterness, or the self-loathing.
Chat Noir didn't like it. "Or maybe they figured, since you help end Hawkmoth, they owed you one?" Chloé's look told him just how likely she thought that was.
Although it did get Sam's curiosity. "Just who was this Hawkmoth person, anyway?" he asked.
"Not our problem," Chloé said, cutting off the heroes before they could speak. "Besides, it's over and done with."
As they exited the station, Sam waved goodbye to Chloé and headed back to his night with his wife. Once they were alone, she turned to the heroes and handed Ladybug a scrap of paper. "Come find me tomorrow. You two only," she told them before walking away. She was gone before either of them could respond.
The writing on the scrap was simplistic. It told them her hotel, the room number, and they had until 5pm.
Due to other factors, Ladybug and Chat Noir didn't reach the hotel until 4. Even though they knew Chloé was different, the fact she chose to stay here was surprising. Calling it a two-star hotel would've been generous, especially since it was located in one of the seedier parts of Paris.
Getting in was easy, thanks to an open window, and so was finding her room. Ladybug knocked briefly while Chat Noir kept an eye out. Chloé opened the door without her shirt on, leaving only the undershirt. "You cut it close," she remarked, uncaring if their eyes had gone wide. She turned around and walked back in.
The heroes followed, still looking at the sight. The undershirt left nothing to the imagination, showing off Chloé's firm muscles. But they also showed her scars. Most they figured came from a blade but one looked as if she had been clawed by an animal. A tattoo played peek-a-boo behind the left strap. It looked akin to a star inside a circle but that was all they could tell.
Ladybug was the first to look away, taking the chance to consider the room. It was small, hardly big enough for the bed and drawer. The colors on the wall might've been soothing at one point, but they had faded enough to lose that effect. The TV resting on the drawer was so small a person would have to be really close to see the screen. But from the looks of things, it hadn't been turned on in a while.
"So, you wanted to talk?" Chat Noir asked. He had noticed the backpack and duffel on the bed. They were opened but looked close to full.
Chloé threw on a shirt without a care. "Yeah, but not to you two." She turned and looked at them with serious eyes. "I wanna talk to the kwamis."
They went still at that. Chat Noir fingered his staff. "Why?"
"I've got a question for them. And you owe me one." Their incredulous looks meant nothing to her. "You think I couldn't have guess what the Butterfly Miraculous was after I killed Rossi? I could've easily taken it for myself. But I didn't. Consider it a favor. So let me talk to the kwamis."
She had a point, as much as Ladybug didn't like it. But there was something to consider. "We can't do that. We risk showing our identities to give you what you want."
Chloé rolled her eyes and pointed at a door close to the drawer. "That's the bathroom. You can wait in there." If her tone hadn't made it clear she had pointed out the most obvious fact, nothing else would.
She sat on the bed, beside the bags. It didn't take long for the kwamis to phase through the door and float before her. Both weren't keen on seeing her, although the black one clearly wanted to do something more. "They're listening at the door, aren't they?" Chloé asked with a half-smirk. It seemed something they would do.
The kwami didn't share her opinion or her humor. "What do you want?" Plagg demanded.
Her smirk faded as she looked at her hands. "Kwamis of Creation and Destruction," she began, putting a little formality in her words. "If someone was to tell you what their wish was, would you be able to tell them what the price would be?"
Tikki and Plagg shared a look. They had expected a couple of things when they came in. Admittedly, this had been low on the list. "We'd be able to give you a rough idea, yes," Tikki said.
Her counterpart was still suspicious and didn't hide it. "It all depends on what the wish." He eyeballed the human. "Well?"
This was the moment of truth for Chloé. "My wish would be to go back, back in time, before everything started."
"And do what?" Tikki asked.
"Be better."
It was a simple answer. Those were the most dangerous kind. "What does that mean?"
"To start off? Get my father to divorce my mother, get Zoé out of her clutches, and kill Rossi before she can get inside the classroom." Each word was spoken with conviction. It matched her eyes. "After that? Just be better than who I was."
"You mean a better superhero?" Plagg asked, almost accusing her.
"I mean be better."
While Tikki didn't like how certain Chloé was about that third point, she understood what the human wanted. "You want to wipe the slate clean."
"Yeah, I guess." She had never really put a name to it.
"Why?"
That was the question that broke Chloé. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to leak out at a moment's notice. "Because I want Zoé back. I want to be the sister I should've been." Guilt was thick in her voice, caking her words. "Please, tell me what the price would be."
The kwamis shared a look in silence. This was a situation they had encountered a few times. Someone wanted a power beyond what Fluff or Sass could give. Yet the price was pretty much the same. "If you wipe the slate clean, what happens to the people afterwards?" Tikki asked her.
Chloé wiped the tears away. "What do you mean?"
"What about all those people you met in America?" Plagg asked. "You go back in time; you'll never meet them."
"I still could," she argued.
"But it wouldn't be the same situations and not the same relationships. They won't be the people you know." He had her. They both knew it. But he decided to add more. "You're a hunter now. What about all the people you've saved? Their lives would change too, probably not for the better. Are you willing to be so selfish as to do that to them?"
"Plagg!" Tikki snapped. That a step too far. But his look showed how unrepentant he was.
Chloé looked down at the floor, thinking over what the kwami said. She thought about everything that happened since she had been exiled, both the good and the bad. She thought of Jody, the sheriff who took her in and became the mother she needed, of Claire, the hunter who found her and brought her into the life proper, becoming the big sister Chloé never had along with Kaia and the others. And what about Sam, the old man who insisted he was retired from hunting but was still willing to give her advice if she asked for it? What about Dean, the kid who pretty much became her own student? Was she really willing to toss them all away?
There was only one conclusion. "No," she said. "I'm not that selfish." As much as she wanted to get rid of the bad, the good outweighed it. If she made her wish, she wiped it all away.
She stood up. "Thank you," she told the kwamis. "That's all I wanted to know." While they were surprised by her abrupt answer, she looked at the bathroom. "Alright, Adrien, you and your wife can come out now."
The kwamis looked at her in shock. Adrien and Marinette had the same looks when they stepped out. "You…how…?" Marinette tried to ask. Most of the words got lodged in her throat.
"I've been trained to recognize glamours and hallucinations and I had fifteen years to think over the memories," Chloé told her. "Once I made the connection, it was pretty obvious. Especially with the way you two kept running off whenever there was an akuma." She threw her a very pointed look. "Wasn't hard to figure out who the rest of your group was either."
She had them. A couple of sentences and she had the heroes. Marinette was a planner by heart. If there was something she needed to do, she'd plan for it. It even dipped into her hero side. There were emergency protocols if someone's identity was discovered, including how to go to ground and handling said loss of information.
But those all had to do with villains. Not civilians.
"What…what do you intend to do with it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.
Chloé turned around and started working on her bags. "Nothing."
It took a moment for her guests to realize what she had said. "Nothing?" Tikki repeated.
The duffel zipped shut. "Nothing," she repeated. "The fact people from my past are superheroes isn't worth caring about, not when I've got other things to worry about." She hefted the duffel, checking the weight, before putting it back down.
Even though her words didn't have the meanness they expected, the heroes still felt insulted at being dismissed so. Chloé had them, and she didn't care. "What do you plan to do then?" Plagg asked, still eyeing her with distrust
"Leave." The backpack was tested for its weight before getting zipped shut. "My flight leaves soon and some friends want some help with a case in Florida."
As Adrien watched his former friend go about her business, all the details fell into place in his head. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?" he asked. "You waited until the last day before talking to Tikki and Plagg."
She considered him for a moment before nodding. "If they said no, I wouldn't have enough time to think of a way to make them say yes. I wasn't betting all I had on the wish. It was a hopeful dream, but a dream nonetheless." Her bags were all ready to go.
"…You really miss Zoé, don't you?" Marinette's voice was quiet. She looked at her former bully with soft eyes, full of understanding.
Chloé's hand froze as it reached for her jacket. Even though her back was turned, they could see her shoulders tensing. "…Her visits were one of the few bright spots I had when I was at that boarding school. To her, it didn't matter that I hated her the first few times. I was her sister and I should see the New York she knew." The shoulders slumped slightly, losing the tenseness. "The day of the fire, she promised to take me to see The Breakfast Club when our mother was done with us. It was her favorite and it was playing in a local theater. We never got the chance."
As her arms slipped into the jacket's sleeves, Marinette noticed the two brown bracelets on Chloé's wrist. The last time she had seen them was on Zoé. Were they hers or did her sister get a copy as way to remember her?
"Did you catch the demon who made the bargain?" Plagg asked. He still had his doubts about everything, but he was willing to focus on that part.
"I don't know," Chloé said. "I never learned its name. For all I know, it could be dead or it's still out there." She hefted the backpack and slipped a strap over her shoulder.
"Then why?" Tikki asked. "Why do you keep doing this?" It was a sentiment shared by her partner. If she had no proof she got her revenge, why keep going?
She looked the pink kwami right in the eyes. "Because it's who I am now. Once you're in that world, you don't leave, not fully. You'll always noticed the signs and you'll wonder if there's nothing you couldn't do to help. Because each time I find a case involving demons, I'm torn between excitement that I'll find my mother and dread that it'll be Zoé."
Adrien frowned. That last part escaped him. "I thought they were dead."
"They are. But souls taken by a crossroad demon can be tortured into becoming demons themselves." She stared at them all. "Tell me that doesn't sound like something my mother would have trouble with."
They couldn't, because it did. Audrey Bourgeois would have no problem becoming a demon if it meant she stayed exceptional. But Zoé being a demon? That was a horrifying thought. And Adrien understood why it scared Chloé so. "If we hear something," he started.
"You won't," Chloé cut him off. "This isn't your world. It's mine. Let's keep it that way." The duffel slipped onto her other shoulder.
Marinette and Adrien stepped out of the way as she went for the door. But then she paused at the door. It was a move the others noticed. "Chloé?" Adrien asked.
"…Tell Pollen I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not being a better partner. For letting Zoé die." She didn't say anything more as she left.
Yet Marinette realized something: Chloé truly had changed, for the better. She was no longer the bratty pain-in-the-ass they all remembered from school. She cared and she didn't stop.
With that, Marinette made her decision.
Chloé made it to her gate with time to spare. She settled into her chair with her bags at her feet and pulled out her book. Living on the road had taught her not always to relay on a phone. Books were always a good way to learn something or pass the time. She noticed a man nearby giving her flirty looks. It got the attention she thought it deserved: an eyeroll and going back to her book.
She knew what he wanted because she had done it a few times herself. Pick up a stranger and have a fun night together was a great way to lose stress. But she wasn't in the mood for it now, not when she was going to be stuck in a plane for hours on end. After everything that happened here in Paris, she just wanted to be done.
Figuring out that Rossi was Hawkmoth hadn't been that hard. After all, it was just legwork and research. What stood out was how she didn't seem to want Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculous, only to beat them and wreck chaos in the process. That was the thread and Chloé pulled until it all unraveled.
While she was content to leave it there, Rossi's demand to meet provided an opportunity she couldn't resist. Rossi must've thought that side street had been perfect for a private meeting. She was right. Once they were there, it was just the matter acting out a radio play. Rossi might not have drawn her knife, but she shouldn't have left it where it could be grabbed so easily.
Chloé had no problem with how that ended. It wouldn't have been the first time she dirtied her hands. And Sam managed to get a local hunter to salt and burn the remains. She considered it an atonement for her bratty old self, just like Sabrina's commission. The second company might've offered less money than Rossi but it was still a hefty price. And Sabrina's commission had been a quarter of it.
Once Chloé was done with her book, she was all set to grab the next one. But she paused when she saw the box resting on top of her duffel. It was black with a red design, a design she had seen years ago. And she what was inside, along with who.
Pollen.
Her head snapped up and scanned the area. But there was no one she knew. Her eyes fell back down to the box. It had been so long since she had seen something like it. The temptation to open it was strong. Her hand twitched, wanting to do just that. She knew what it was.
An offer. To become Queen Bee again. A hero.
And that made her decision.
"You did what?" That pretty much summed up the reaction from the Miraculous Team.
Ladybug looked at them all. "I gave Chloé the Bee Miraculous." Her voice was firm as she looked at them all. Past them, through all the rooftops, was the airport. It was close enough to be seen without being heard.
"But, isn't she going back to America?" asked Polymouse. "If she has Pollen, she should stay here."
She had thought of that. It was a risk, but one she was willing to accept. "Chloé was already leaving when we talked to her. She wasn't going to stay in Paris, no matter what we might've said. But with Pollen, she'll have something that'll keep her protected. More than that, she'll know she can call on us if she needs to." One Voyage from Pegasus would be able to take them to Chloé and vice-versa.
Rena Rouge knew where Ladybug was coming from but she had her doubts. This was Chloé, after all. The others said she might've changed but until she saw it herself, Rena was going to withhold judgement. "I hope you're right about this," she said.
"I'm sure."
Chat Noir nodded. Like Rena, he saw what Ladybug was thinking. He also supported it. "Chloé always wanted to be a hero," he remarked. "This way, she can do it without us looking over her shoulder, thinking we're judging her." His pointed look made it clear what he thought about that. No one argued the fact.
"Hey, isn't that Pollen?" King Monkey asked, pointing at the airport.
They all turned and saw Pollen flying towards them, her Miraculous in her paws. "Pollen, what are you doing here?" Ladybug asked once she was close. "You're supposed to be with Chloé." The only reason she would be was…
The realization stunned everyone. "She said no?" Chat Noir asked.
"Not in so many words," Pollen said, her expression sad. "Rather, she was disappointed that no one else had been picked since she returned it." While everyone was processing that piece of information, she floated closer to Ladybug. "She left a note for you, Ladybug." The note had been pressed against the Miraculous, held there by Pollen.
Marinette read the words in silence. When she was done, she was quiet and handed it off to Chat Noir. Everyone had a chance to read the note.
The last time we spoke, you said that I had lost all power over you and the others. Something else happened that night: you also lost any power over me.
Find someone else.
This was the final straw, the last piece they needed.
Chloé had changed, and in doing so, left them all, even the Miraculous, behind. Not even the offer of being a hero would attract her.
"Pollen," Ladybug, "did Chloé tell you anything else? Anything she wanted to say?"
The kwami looked her right in the eye. "That is between me and my queen," she declared with firm loyalty.
It had been a long flight for Chloé, and she was tired by the time she got out of the airport. Fortunately, Claire and Kaia were already waiting for her. "Hey, guys," she said as she approached the car. The sun was nice and bright. She wanted to hiss and recoil from the sight.
"Hey there, Chloé," Claire said back, giving her a quick hug. Those always felt warm. "You look tired."
"Planes were not designed to sleep comfortably." And she had been stuck to a snorer, so she had been awake the entire flight. Kaia took her stuff and put them in the trunk. It left her eyeing the backseat with a longing fondness.
Claire knew that look. She had seen it more than a few times over the years. "Go ahead and get comfy," she told the woman she considered her little sister. "We'll wake you up when we reached Gainesville."
She managed to open the door and climbed into the backseat, pulling off her jacket. "That where the case is?" she asked, already feeling drowsy as she made herself comfortable.
"Roundabout," Kaia told her. "Just sleep, Chloé. We'll be here when you wake up." They always told her that.
She barely felt the car move as it pulled out of the airport. The last thing she heard was the radio playing a familiar song, her sister's favorite. She could hear her singing the lyrics as the guitar played.
Won't you come see about me?
I'll be alone, dancing, you know it, baby
End
Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.
I have to say, I'm particularly proud of this one. This is probably the first Miraculous Ladybug/Supernatural crossover that takes itself seriously. Please also bear in mind I wrote this before watching the finale of Season 5, hence why Sabrina is a lawyer instead of a nurse and Chloé was sent to America instead of England.
This story also shows what I believe the creators of Miraculous Ladybug should do to Chloé. In essence, they need to give her the Wesley Wyndam-Price Treatment. She's already failed spectacularly and has been booted out. Send her somewhere else where she'll get beaten down further so she'll be forced to change and mature into something different, perhaps even darker. By the time she'd return to Paris, she would be so different from what the others knew, it would be a shock.
Actually, now that I think about it, that could be a spin-off from the main show. It would also give the writers a chance to be a little darker, little more serious.
If you believe that Chloé was rude when talking to the others, leaving without saying goodbye, consider this: she doesn't want to be there. The only reason she's in Paris is so she can sell her father's hotel. She's trying to stay away from the people she used to know but she keeps stumbling across them or they're keeping an eye on her. She only said goodbye to the one person she felt deserved it.
Caline's reaction to Chloé's outburst is where I stand on that whole matter. Yes, it's easy to write the teachers off as cowardly or blind, unable to change their ways. But I like to think they would consider their actions and talked to each other about it, figure out where they had gone wrong. They made mistakes but they try not to repeat them.
Regarding Lila's death and Chloé getting away with it, it is actually illegal to carry a knife longer than 12cms in France. Even if you bring a pocketknife, you'll have to be careful with it. And it would be safe to say that Lila wasn't carrying a pocketknife. Initially I was going to write it with a gun but then I looked through the French laws about that and found out about the knife laws. The way I had it figured, that would've been much more plausible.
I'm just going to get this out of the way since we're on the subject, but does anyone else think the Miraculous Ladybug creators take the time to read fanfiction about Lila being exposed just to screw with our expectations?
I mean, think about it. "They're going to Lila's mother about her lies." Which one? She has three. "Once she's revealed, Lila will be gone for good." Oh no, wait. Lila was just an identity and a wig. She'll be back. "She'll eventually out herself with her lies." Have you seen how she lies? Even then she has backups. You cannot honestly tell me this is what they had in mind from the start. They had to have read some of these fanfics, if only to take notes.
Okay, short rant over.
As I've said, I wrote this before I saw the finale to Season 5. So I was unaware that it was Gimmi who caused the wish. But I do believe that if Tikki and Plagg were asked beforehand about the wish, they would be able to give a rough outline of what would happen. They'd do their best to show the person how it could go wrong but they would give it all the same.
That last note Chloé left with Pollen shows how she's changed. If you think about it, her life in Paris could have a focus on Marinette, whether it was to torment her or outdo her. She might've had power over the class given her position, but Marinette had power over her whenever she stood up for herself or bested her in something.
Once she was away and thought back on those years, she could see how they interacted with each other and realize that wasn't healthy. She could become her own person, without focusing on someone else. It was why she hardly thought about Paris and its heroes afterwards, and why she turned down Pollen. That wasn't who she was anymore.
I'll see you all next chapter!
