Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug or Supernatural.

The Far-traveled Road II

"Talking"

"Thinking

There were more than a few days where Adrien hated his position as head of the Gabriel brand.

Today was one of those days.

He and Marinette had been invited to New York to judge a fashion contest, one that brought in contestants from all across the country. The winner would receive an internship at the company of their choosing. While most of the other brands were interested in possible new blood, Adrien and Marinette wanted to see what the contestants had to offer.

But that was the following days. Tonight was the party. Some modern music played overhead while the contest's sponsors mingled with their guests and judges. Adrien knew Marinette was around, but he couldn't see her. He was left talking to one of the bigger, if not the biggest sponsor. And that would've been fine. It was something he had done plenty of times. But this was different.

Mrs. Feraldon reminded him a little too much of the old Chloé. She all but crowded him as she talked, never letting him get a word in response, showing off the whole ballroom and boldly declaring that it was all because of her. There was a small group of women nodding along but anyone else who was listening in just rolled their eyes.

That wasn't the worst part of it. Despite his efforts to be polite, Mrs. Feraldon kept sliding up next to Adrien and insinuating that if he wanted, she as more than happy to take him to a more private area for a…conversation. He didn't reply to those because they didn't need an answer. He was happily married, and a father! Why would he spit on those?

By her third insinuation, he was ready to call it a night. Marinette came into sight, talking to one of the other judges. "Excuse me, Mrs. Feraldon," he said. "I believe my wife needs me."

"Oh, bring her over," she said. Her eyes were scanning the crowd, looking for something. The second she found it, she smiled with teeth. "I noticed someone on our serving roster and ensured she was working this room. You'll like this."

She signaled a server and quickly took on a surprised expression. "Boozy Chloé, is that you?" she asked, loud enough so everyone could hear her.

The music died as Adrien looked at the server. She might've been dressed professionally, and her hair framed her face, but it was Chloé.

She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes on Mrs. Feraldon. "Drink, ma'am?" she asked, extending her tray.

Mrs. Feraldon took a flute but didn't drink. "Come on now, Boozy. Is that anyway to say hello to an old classmate?" She glanced towards Adrien. "You might not know this, Adrien, but we have a terrorist before us. You see, Chloé here helped that old supervillain Hawkmoth attack Paris. She even took over as mayor at one point." Her voice had everyone's attention and didn't stop. "She certainly still had that attitude when she came to my school, so we took efforts to correct it. And now, she's here, doing a job she must feel is beneath her." Her smirk enjoyed the scene she was making. "Well, Boozy, what do you have to say about it?"

She might not have noticed it but Adrien could see Chloé's hand tightening. She was getting angry. But instead of throwing some kind of punch, she looked to him. "Drink, sir?" she asked, doing what she could to stay civil.

"Oh, no," he told her. "Thank you."

She nodded and turned to leave. "Where do you think you're going, Boozy?" Mrs. Feraldon asked. She strode up to Chloé, getting right up in her face. "I asked you a question and you didn't answer. Do you need to be reminded about the consequences?"

A hint of fear flashed through her eyes. It was gone before anyone else saw it, but Adrien did. "No."

"I think you do." She threw her drink right in Chloé's face, surprising the room. "You are a pathetic, waste of space, delusional, little braggart who couldn't even impressed your mommy." With each description, she poured another drink on Chloé. "They ran you out of Paris because you were too stupid, and you only survived Bradford because of my good graces. You are where you belong, down in the rank-and-file, and you don't even deserve that."

Her hand rose and Chloé winced, a natural reflex. Mrs. Feraldon smirked and simply dropped her hanky on the plate. "Now, go clean yourself up. You're stinking up our party. We have standards, after all." Chloé said nothing as she left, doing her best to act as if nothing had happened. But all the eyes were on her.

"You get all that?" Mrs. Feraldon asked her friends, who all had their phones out.

"We sure did, Rebecca."

Adrien didn't care about that. He and Marinette were already heading out of the ballroom, to the kitchen. They weren't the only ones. A young woman was three steps ahead with a worried expression. She reached the kitchen door first. Another staff member was already there. "Is there a problem?" he asked, looking at the three of them.

"Is Chloé okay?" the woman asked. She tried to look over his shoulder into the kitchen, but she couldn't see her.

"We will take care of it, madam."

Another man joined them. "Jack," he said to the server. "Please tell Ms. Chloé that she is not being held responsible for what happened, and she's not being fired." The server nodded once before going back inside. "Sir, madams, please go back to the party. We'll take care of this."

Marinette hardened her eyes. "After what we've just witnessed, I think it would be better if we retired for the evening. Good night." She and Adrien turned and left together.

The woman quickly followed. "Um, Mr. and Mrs. Agreste?" she asked. "Not that I'm not grateful you followed, but how do you know Chloé?"

It was a surprising question, one that made them both consider her. She was barely in her twenties with brown hair tied in a braid. A thin pair of glasses rest in front of green eyes. It matched the hue of her dress, which Marinette liked. The dress didn't try to make her sexy, but it did emphasize that she was a woman.

But it didn't distract from her question. "We knew her back when we were kids," Adrien answered.

The girl looked at them again. "From Paris?" They didn't respond. To her, that was answer enough.

The air was turning awkward as they entered the elevator. Marinette quickly cut through it with a question. "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Alice. I'm a law student at NYU."

"How do you know Chloé?"

"She was a substitute French teacher at my high school. And she saved my life."

The Agrestes knew that Chloé was different, had since her visit to Paris two years ago. But still, that last sentence took them a moment to comprehend. "O-Oh, she did?" Marinette asked, trying (for the most part) to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"Yeah, I was in…well, I guess you could say an awkward spot. Chloé helped me out, suggested I try getting a scholarship." She smiled. "And I did."

Adrien was still trying to understand what she had said. The only thing he could think to say was "Have you kept in touch?"

The smile faded as she shook her head. "No. Tonight was the first time I saw her since high school." The elevator stopped and the doors opened. She gave them an apologetic smile as she waved goodbye.

Normally, Marinette and Adrien would take the time to enjoy themselves. On a vacation, out of Paris and away from the kids? That was becoming a rare thing nowadays. It was why they took the opportunity when they could. The trip to Morrocco stood out as a good example.

But any idea of fun died when Plagg flew up to Adrien and Marinette with a phone in hand. "You're gonna wanna watch this," the kwami told them.

The second Adrien started the video, he regretted it. He had already seen Chloé humiliated once. He didn't need to see it again. Then he decided to look at the comments.

That had been a bad idea.

Marinette had stepped out of her dress when she saw how her husband was frozen in place. She came to his side and looked over his shoulder. He didn't stop scrolling through the comments. They were all the same:

They all remember Chloé, and they thought what happened was her just desserts.

"Just how many of these people are from Paris?" Adrien asked as he scrolled. Tikki and Plagg hovered over his other shoulder, reading too.

"From the looks of things, all of them," Marinette said. Too many comments mentioned things only a Parisian back then would know, especially about Chloé. If they did mention Mrs. Feraldon, it was to say how they wish they could've poured the drinks or that she should've kept going. She noticed one comment that said the video was cruel. But it was the only one so far.

Finally, Adrien closed the app. "That was horrible," he declared. "And I don't think it's going to stop." He had seen the look on Mrs. Feraldon's face. Chloé had worn that same look too many times back then.

Marinette nodded as she put on an evening robe. "We should keep an eye out, try to stop it ahead of time." No one deserved that kind of humiliation, not even Chloé.

They had just finished changing when there was a knock on the door. "Housekeeping!"

The kwamis froze half into their respective bags. So did their partners. Adrien went to the door and opened it. Chloé stood outside, out of her uniform and without her cleaning supplies. "Figured that would get your attention," she remarked. She looked him over. "You cut the ponytail."

"Chloé, uh, hi." He glanced around but saw no one. "Come in." They walked in together but while Adrien sat on the bed with his wife, Chloé leaned against the wall. For a moment, nothing was said.

Then Adrien broke it. "What are you doing working here, Chloé? I thought you were a hunter."

"Why do you think I'm here?" she asked back. "I'm working a case right now. There's been reports of a ghost haunting this hotel. Only reason this isn't a milk run is because of this contest. Did give me the opportunity to get in."

It made sense to him. "So, you want us—"

"To do absolutely nothing," she cut him off. "I came up here as a courtesy, to let you know what I was doing here. After that, we leave each other be."

It wasn't the curt tone that bothered Marinette, only the dismissal. Backing away from something wasn't in her nature. "Chloé, we'd be able to help," she said.

She looked at her old target. Her lips parted, only to close again. "This isn't an akuma. This is a ghost. There are different rules on handling them and I don't have the time to teach you. Just do what you came here to do. I'll handle my business." She pushed off the wall and headed for the door.

As much as the conversation was clearly over, Marinette didn't want to leave it there. "Chloé, about what Mrs. Feraldon did," she began, making the blonde pause. "I just want you to know it shouldn't have happened." Adrien nodded in agreement.

"But it did," Chloé replied. "And it was her being nice."

Those were words neither of them expected. "Nice?" Adrien repeated. "Chloé, she poured your entire tray over your head!" She had been humiliated in front of everyone. How could she say something like that?

"Like I said, she was being nice." She glanced back at her former target. "One time," she started before Marinette said anything, "I found a dress at a store. It wasn't a brand-name dress. It wasn't expensive. It was a dress, pretty with just the right shade of yellow. So, I bought it for an upcoming dance. I had no plans for this dance, not even to find a boyfriend. I just wanted to have a good time.

"The night of the dance, I found the dress on the floor of my room. What hadn't been damaged by scissors was ruined by piss and shit. And it was the only dress I had. I was the only person who didn't go to the dance and the next day, Rebecca made sure everyone at Bradford knew. They all had a good laugh at me for that." She gave them all a moment to let it sink in. "She told me why she did it, later that night: she didn't like how happy I seemed when I bought the dress."

Marinette's stunned silence vanished in righteous anger. "She did all that, because you were happy?" she demanded. "That's cruel! It's stupid! It's—"

"Something I might've done?"

The question cut her tirade off, leaving an awkward air. "…You, you never went that far." At best, Marinette had suffered jokes and pranks. Chloé had never done anything like…that to her.

"But I could've." She left at that. The door closed without a sound, yet the married couple felt as if it cut them off from Chloé.


A strange thing happened the following morning, something that briefly surprised Adrien.

Chloé had caused a Twitter war.

As it turned out, the one nice comment they had seen sparked many more. Before long, there was a line between two groups: those older people who remembered Chloé and the younger generation who only saw a woman being humiliated. For them, what she had done was in the past and should be left alone. In fact, their rallying cry centered around a single concept:

#LeaveChloéAlone.

The war didn't stay on Twitter either. People were all but openly talking about her throughout the day. They stopped whenever they saw Adrien or Marinette coming but they had ears (and a pair of kwamis, but that was beside the point). Most people were in Chloé's corner, from what they heard.

As for the woman in question, no one had seen her. The general assumption was that she had taken the day off but Adrien had asked the staff and they did mention seeing Chloé come in. She must've been working on finding that ghost.

But while he knew that, others didn't. He came across Alice talking to the man they had met the night before. "It's alright, Alice," he assured her with a smile. "We're doing all that we can to keep Ms. Chloé away from the bitch."

Alice's smile was full of relief. "Thanks, Greg. I know this might be a little odd."

"Not at all. Ben mentioned how your life was changed around. Look," he said before she could say anything else. "I've gotta go check on Milly. Odds are the bitch is trying to talk to her again."

"Of course." She went one way while he went another, only she ran into Adrien. "Oh, Mr. Agreste. I didn't see you there." She tried not to look him over but she couldn't stop the blush. It was hard not to with such a handsome man.

Adrien smiled. "It's alright. Were you guys talking about Chloé?" The blush faded as she watched him. "I just wanted to make sure she was alright. Everyone I've come across has been talking about her."

"Kinda hard to miss that," she remarked. "But yes, Greg was reassuring me that Chloé will be kept away from his stepmother and her cronies."

"His stepmother?"

"Mrs. Feraldon."

Adrien couldn't help looking at where Greg Feraldon had left. He compared the man to Rebecca and saw she was only ten years older than him. From that, he could make a guess as to why Mr. Feraldon remarried. "Does Ms. Rebecca have any children of her own?"

She shook her head. "Nope." After a quiet moment, she considered him again. "Was there something else you needed, Mr. Agreste?"

"Yes. You said Chloé saved your life. Could you tell me what happened?" Her eyes became wary, uncertain. "If you say no, that's alright," he assured her. "I'm only curious." But he did want to know the story.

It was a few moments before Alice spoke. "I'm from a town upstate called Woodpine. I had this friend, Sarah. Her dad owned the local saw mill, so he pretty much owned the town. Sarah lorded that over everyone in school, including the teachers. And I was right there beside her, as her only friend. So, the rest of the school hated me by association."

That sounded very familiar to Adrien. An uncertain feeling start moving through his gut. "I take it Chloé did something about that?" he asked.

She smiled, just a little. "At first, she was only the substitute French teacher. When she told me to stay behind to discuss my grades, I believed her. The first time she talked about how my friendship with Sarah wasn't good, I told her she didn't know what she was talking about. But she kept at it, encouraging me to be more independent, to make more friends. Each time I had my doubts, that maybe I should go back to Sarah, she stopped me. Always told me the same thing: that Sarah needed me more than I needed Sarah.

"When I mentioned how I was interested in the law, Chloé encouraged me to look for scholarships and apply. She was the first one I told when I got one for NYU." Her smile widened and showed her happiness. "Chloé helped me get out of what I knew and into something different. Now, I'm a good law student and I'm dating Ben Feraldon, who doesn't care if I came from some backwater town. It's all thanks to her." The smile dimmed as a scowl took its place. "So everything people are talking about her makes me mad."

"Why don't you share your story?"

She paused and looked at him. "Say what?"

"Share your story," Adrien told her again. "Show people that Chloé has changed over the years. Maybe other people will have similar stories."

It was an idea, one she liked. "Yeah, maybe I should. Thanks, Mr. Agreste." She checked her watch. There was still time before the show. Maybe she would be able to do just that. "If you'll excuse me."

"Of course." She was already gone by the time he finished the second word. Adrien didn't fault her for that.

Rose and Juleka had mentioned Woodpine when the team discussed Chloé's visit to Paris. They had mentioned she had seen something from the other side. From what Adrien had just listened to, it was clear she had seen her friendship was Sabrina and how bad it was. And considering how Chloé had changed, it made sense that she would try to do something about it. Although, now Adrien wandered what happened to this Sarah.

As he made his way through the corridors, Adrien heard the sound of someone hitting their head against something wooden. He followed the sound to a private room, albeit one with an open door. A girl was slamming her head against a desk, saying "Stupid!" each time.

"Hey!" The girl froze at his voice. He stepped inside but kept the door opened. "There's no reason for you to call yourself stupid," he told her.

Big watery eyes met his. A hand flung out at the nearby mannequin. "Look at that and tell me I'm not stupid," she said in reply.

At first glance, the outfit on the mannequin didn't look like much. It stayed like that at the second and third glance. At the fourth glance, Adrien admitted the truth: the outfit was a disaster. There was no coordination between the colors, it couldn't decide whether it had a collar or not, and the buttons were literally all over the place.

"See?" the girl said. "Even you understand. I'm not a designer. I don't have the talent for it! I'm a failure!" She collapsed onto the desk again, doing her best to burrow her head into the wood.

Suddenly Adrien was reminded of his wife back when they were teens. Only now, it wasn't adorable or even a little funny. Fortunately, he knew how to work through this. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Milly." Her voice was muted by the wood.

His spine straightened at that name. "Milly Feraldon?"

"Yes." Her head came up, just enough to for her eyes to see him. "And you're Adrien Agreste."

So, she knew who he was. Well, that saved his introduction. "I am," he answered with a nod. "Your brother mentioned you when I ran into him. He said that he was coming to have a talk with you."

"He did. He tried, but it didn't work. Nothing I tried works. And I know it's not gonna matter in the end."

"What does that mean?"

"My stepmother is gonna bribe some of the judges to make sure that I win, so I can get that internship." Her head thumped down again into the desk. "I'm gonna join a brand and bring it crashing down because I have no skills as a designer!" she wailed.

Now he was really reminded of his wife. Putting that aside, he focused on her. "Ms. Milly, if you don't want to be a fashion designer, why are you trying?"

She had managed to stop sobbing for the moment. "Because I was forced to. I told my stepmother how I wanted to be a model and she told me that was pointless, since models have a limited shelf life and then afterwards, I wouldn't have anything. It was better, she said, to be the one who made the clothes rather than the one who wore the clothes. Before I knew it, I was being signed up for designer classes and given material. I didn't even get a say in the matter and she won't listen to me."

Despite being slightly offended at that modeling remark, Adrien's heart went out to her. Her situation sounded very similar to his way back when. Which gave him an idea. "If you had the chance to be a model, whose designs would you wear?" he asked.

Milly didn't take long to answer. "Zeke Henette." Her lips quirked into a happy smile bordering on dreamy. "He knows how to design these absolutely amazing clothes. I took one look at what he made, and I just knew how to wear them."

If anyone thought Adrien's smile was quite cat-like, well, that was their opinion. "Ms. Milly, I have an idea."


It didn't take much to change a few things around. Adrien checked in with his wife and the people actually running the show, including Greg Feraldon. He was all for it, since he knew how his stepmother had shoehorned his sister into this. Changing things around to better Milly and thumb his nose at the bitch? He couldn't have said yes fast enough.

The contest went off without a hitch. Each contestant showed their designs and the judges gave their opinions. When it came time for Mr. Henette, Milly came down the catwalk with confidence. She had been right about her being the right person to wear the clothes. She had the entire room's attention. The only one who didn't like it was her stepmother. Strangely enough, Adrien couldn't find the means to worry.

At the contest's end, Zeke Henette was declared the winner and he chose to join the Gabriel brand as Marinette's intern. Adrien took a step further and declared Milly would also join the brand, as his intern and a perspective model. Both kids were ecstatic at the opportunity. Yet it was when they looked at each other shyly that Adrien and Marinette knew there was another reason.

It was at the afterparty that Chloé made her appearance. But that wasn't the right word. Adrien only saw her at the entrance, wearing normal clothes and with a pack over her shoulder. They made eye contact briefly and she nodded once. He took that to mean the ghost had been taken care of. She spoke briefly with Greg, getting an acknowledging nod, and then spent a few moments talking to Alice, smiling proudly as they did. But when she was done, she headed for the door.

Naturally, that's when she was spotted. "What do you think you're doing, Boozy?" Rebecca Feraldon asked, cutting through the noise. At her signal, the music died.

Chloé turned back and looked at her. "Leaving," she said. "My job's done."

"Your job is done when I say it's done." A petty smirk crossed her lips. Furious at how her plans for Milly had been disrupted, now she had the perfect outlet to vent. "Now, get back into uniform and start serving."

"No."

It took her a moment to understand what she had just heard. The smirk vanished. "What did you say?"

"I said no. I was a temp hire, Rebecca. Here for the contest and only that."

Rebecca sneered, letting her derision show. "So you're so pathetic you can't even get a regular job? Ha! Just goes to show what you are. Your mommy would be so proud of you!" Her mockery was in full force on that last sentence.

At first, Chloé wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away. But then she saw the indignant looks on Adrien's and Marinette's faces, matching the others surrounding them. She also saw Alice had her phone out, ready to film. The look in her eyes pleaded with Chloé not to let that stand, to do something.

So, she did. "My mother was a Grade-A bitch who didn't care about anything that wasn't her," she declared in a voice everyone could hear. "Disappointing her was so commonplace, I don't even think about it."

Rebecca and her cronies were surprised by the dismissal. This wasn't the Chloé they had known. Taking advantage of the moment, Chloé walked forward, through the crowd, until she was standing before Rebecca. "You should've left it alone, Rebecca," she said, just between the two of them. "Daddy isn't here to save you anymore."

While Mrs. Feraldon was puzzled by her quiet words, Adrien knew the look in his former friend's eyes. She was about to do something. "You know something, Rebecca? I should thank you," Chloé began, her voice reaching everyone.

"Thank me?"

"Yes. You showed me how much worse I could be." She looked around the room, at everyone who was watching. "Yes, I was a brat when I was in school. Yes, I bullied people, made fun of them, and played jokes on them. But I never laid a hand on them. I never shoved them against lockers, never tripped them against the stairwell, never locked them in a confessional for hours on end and telling them to confess, only to leave them there even when they did. I never left them outside naked or destroy the one dress they had because I thought they needed to be reminded of their place. I never left them in a swimsuit two sizes small and called them a slut in front of everyone.

"It's because of you I saw where I was going. And I decided I was going to be different. And now?" She smirked. "I have a new life, completely different from what I knew, and I love it. What have you done with yours?"

It was the last word that stoked her bully's fury. "Listen up, Boozy—!"

"My name is Chloé Bourgeois, not BOOZY!" Everyone flinched at her roar. Rebecca took a step back and she stepped forward. "What have you done to change? I'll tell you: nothing! And look where that got you. Being a trophy wife to a man old enough to be your father whose actual children hate your every fiber. Even your attempts to help is just a way to live through them and their achievements. You're just there to be his bedmate and once he gets tired of you, he'll toss you aside and find someone younger. Once that happens, you'll be on your own, with nothing to your name. Your cronies will leave you behind once they realize you can't help them anymore. No one will give you the benefit of time. You'll find out just what being what you were will get you: nowhere. But me? I'll keep going, living my life, and I won't spend a single moment to think about you."

With each word she spoke, Chloé drove her old tormentor into the ground, unable to do or say anything back. Chloé leaned down and looked her right in the eye. "Now, tell me," she said, "which one of us is the pathetic one?" When she got no answer, she sniffed in elegant derision, something the old Chloé did easily, and turned around. "Enjoy your life, Rebecca, what little remains."

She had started the night as a staff member. Yet when Chloé Bourgeois walked out, amidst all the phones filming her, no one protested the idea she left like a victorious queen. Adrien and Marinette smiled at the sight, proud that she had stood up for herself and happy that she realized what she used to be was wrong.


Half a week later, Chloé was at a motel about three hours outside of Chicago. She was making her way back to Sioux Falls, so she could be there by Pizza Night. It was the night each girl raised by Jody Mill tried to make, so they could see each other again and catch up. Chloé had come to love Pizza Night, since it meant she could see all of her adoptive family.

But for now, she was parked and staying the night. There was a bar across the street. She could go over and get a drink. Perhaps even find someone to spend the night with before she left. That could be fun. Hell, she even considered sleeping in.

A knock on the door broke her thoughts and brought Chloé back to the present. She wasn't expecting anyone and her training made her cautious. She approached the door with her gun in hand. Yet, once she glanced through the peephole, she was surprised. It took her a moment to actually open the door and face the woman standing there. "Kubdel."

Alix Kubdel looked back. "Hey, Chloé. Long time." She gave her a once-over and grinned. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd wear flannel." It did look good on the blonde, especially with the black-and-gold pattern.

"What are you doing here?" She was wearing civilian clothes, not the costume. It didn't make Chloé any less suspicious.

"You should watch the Paris News tonight. You might see something that'll surprise you."

Cryptic as the words might've been, Chloé found a problem with it. "My TV doesn't get the French channels." There might've been a flatscreen in her room but it was years out of date. She was at a motel, after all.

Alix simply tossed her something. "Attach that to it. You'll get the channel. By the way," she said as she turned, "Adrien hasn't changed his number."

She left Chloé baffled. The Hunter considered the device as she closed the door. It looked simple enough, black with twin antennas at the top. There were grips on the bottom that could easily attach to something. Chloé would've thought it was a walkie-talkie if it wasn't for the sleek design. It must've been some recent tech.

A part of her wanted to put the thing aside and just go out like she originally planned. But a part of her was curious about what Alix had said. The device attached itself easily to the TV and the screen turned on without any help from her.

"Hello, Paris! This is Aurore…"

"And Mireille…"

"Welcome to the Morning Show!" they chorused together.

Surprise ran through Chloé as she sat on the bed. The two weather girls had become show hosts? Times had changed. They were certainly dressed professionally but with enough color to show their style.

Aurore began. "For the past couple of days, the world has been swept up in two videos posted on the internet. Both involve a name many Parisians will remember: Chloé Bourgeois."

"It's been nearly twenty years since she was exiled from Paris and this was the first time many of us had seen her again," Mireille said. "Since then, opinions had settled into two groups: that she got everything she deserved, and what happened to her was cruel."

"Today, we have a chance to talk with two former schoolmates who had met with the woman-in-question: Adrien and Marinette Agreste." The camera turned and revealed the couple sitting on the accompanying couch. "Hello."

"Hey, Aurore, Mireille," Marinette said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again."

"You too, Marinette," Mireille said. Her smile turned professional. "So, you had a chance to meet with Chloé while in New York?"

Adrien nodded. "Yes. We saw what happened between her and Mrs. Feraldon, both times. I'll admit the first incident was shocking, it certainly wasn't what Chloé deserved."

"Some have said it is exactly what she deserved," Aurore countered. "Especially with how she was twenty years ago."

"But that wasn't punishment," Marinette argued, her face turning determined. "Not even when she was treated so in school. You heard the things she said, Aurore. Not even Chloé had done such things. And besides," she continued, "Chloé suffered enough, with the bullying and the loss of her sister and mother."

Chloé bit back a snort at the mention of Audrey. No one missed that bitch. "There has also been a surprising revelation," Mireille said. "The day after the first video, a story was posted online about how Chloé saved someone's life and turned it around. Since then, other stories have cropped up, all about how Chloé has saved lives or changed them for the better."

Their surprised looks were amusing to Chloé. Clearly, they didn't think that would've happened. "Really?" asked Marinette.

"Yes. Chloé supporters have cited these stories as proof that she shouldn't be judged for past actions. Some have even said that if she came back to Paris, she shouldn't face any harsh treatment. What do you have to say about that?" she asked.

Marinette and Adrien shared a look. "Actually, that already happened," Adrien said, surprising Aurore and Mireille. "Chloé came to Paris two years ago, after her father passed away."

Now the reporters were stunned. It took them a moment to actually say anything. "We-well, that is surprising," Aurore said. "I would've thought that was something she would've announced before she even stepped on a plane."

"She came back in order to sell Le Grand Paris," he explained. "That was it. The only person she reached out to was Sabrina and that was in a purely professional manner. I only ran into her by accident."

"I never saw her," Marinette added. "If it hadn't been for her meeting Sabrina and Adrien, none of us would've known she had been in Paris."

Her husband nodded in agreement. "She told me that once the hotel was sold, she would leave. And aside from one incident, she did just that."

"I would hardly call being arrested an incident, Adrien," Aurore pointed out.

The phone was in her hand and facetiming the number before Chloé realized what she was doing. The only thing she did was set herself against the wall so she would have a background. The phone rang once, twice, and then picked up. Adrien's face filled her screen. "Chloé?" he said, surprised.

"Care to put me on speaker?" she asked.

The surprise didn't last long. "Actually, I've got a better idea." The screen went dark for a moment and then relit, showing the studio. The camera was focused on the reporters and the couple. They must've set the video on the back wall.

"People of Paris, it seems we have a surprise guest for this show," Aurore said, trying to stay professional. "Chloé Bourgeois herself. Hello, Chloé," she said. "We didn't think you would be listening."

"I was tipped off about this," Chloé replied. "And I've got a few things to say about that last piece. First off, I called it in and went with the police willingly. They released me because it was self-defense. Lila Rossi attacked me." Adrien's and Marinette's eyes found her, a warning clear in both.

"But why she would do that?" Mireille asked.

"Her company was the initial buyer for Le Grand Paris. Once I discovered that it was her company, I pulled out and found someone else. She didn't like that and got angry when I refused to change my mind. Guess what happened next." Not that they needed to.

"And the reason you would refuse her?"

For a moment, she hesitated. There was so much she could say about Rossi. But something stopped her: people believed that she had changed, that she was different. Maybe…maybe it would be best if she talked about something in particular. "She had a hand in getting me exiled," she said.

None of them had expected that. Marinette's eyes went wide while the reporters were struggling not to roll theirs. "That's quite the accusation, Chloé," Aurore said.

"In the days before my father resigned as Mayor, Lila had been talking to me via earpiece. She was the one telling me what to do or say. It was on her suggestion that I took control as Mayor of Paris." She fixed Aurore with a hard look. "I might've done some stupid things, but she helped me. Once she had what she wanted, she left me behind. I never forgot that and I made sure that I would never be involved with her again."

It took them all a moment to understand what she had said. Mireille mustered her expression and said, "Aside from that, this is the first time you've reach out, Chloé. Can you say why that is?"

Oh, that was an easy one. "If I had called, would any of you have picked up?" Silence and slightly guilty looks met her. "It goes both ways. Except for Zoé, none of you reached out."

They had no answer to that. "What about the stores being posted? Do you have anything to say about them?"

"I dunno. I haven't gone looking for them." Truth be told, this was the first time she had heard about it.

"One story says that you rescued a kidnapped child and brought him home," Aurore reported. "Apparently, you found him in Michigan and his family were well-known in Louisiana."

"That happened." She had been finishing up a hunt when she came across Timothy. While she hadn't known all the details until later, she did know the little eight-year-old didn't want to be in that house and the adults weren't his parents. So she took him and raced out of there before anyone noticed. "Timothy was a nice kid, certainly had a lot of question. He was learning French from his parents, so we spent the time speaking in French."

"According to the story, you didn't accept the reward for his return."

"Only enough for gas and food." At the time, she hadn't been thinking about making a nest egg. She was only focused on the next week and the next case. It was why once she was sure Timothy was safe, she had left. There was no need for her to stick around.

A quick look at the married couple told her they couldn't quite believe her. Neither did the reporters. "Another story says that you stopped them from joining a gang just before they were arrested for trying to burn down a school," Mireille said.

Chloé didn't remember that one. "Where was that?"

"In Merna, Nebraska."

The name helped but she didn't remember anything about arson. She had stopped in Merna to fill up on gas and stop for lunch. And at the diner…there had been a kid who had been watching her car. "I met a kid there who was interested in my car," she finally spoke. "We talked and I saw he was nervous. Figured he was on the verge of doing something stupid, so I told him if he thought he was about to do something wrong, he shouldn't." The kid had been worried about what others would say if he said no. Chloé gave him her honest opinion: fuck'em. "That was it."

"Wow. It sounds like you really made a change about yourself, Chloé. What did you find in America that caused that?"

It was an innocent question. She knew it was meant as an innocent question. But it brought up too many memories, setting her face to scowl. "You mean aside from the torment, bullying, and humiliation that made me consider suicide more than once?" she asked, not hiding the bite in her words.

Mireille couldn't hide her wince. It took her a moment to reply. "Uh, yes?"

Chloé breathed in and then out, calming herself. "I was found by someone who treated me like a little sister," she answered. "And she took me to someone who treated me like a daughter." Even though she was never formally adopted (she wished to God it was, though), Chloé always thought of Jody Mills as her mother.

The studio was silent. Clearly, they hadn't been expecting the interview to go like this. "Chloé, are you serious about…the suicide?" he asked.

He was trying to be careful. Chloé could respect that but the memories were still fresh. "The first time Zoé came to visit, she found me in my room looking at a knife. She didn't leave my side the entire day." Back then, Chloé had hated her half-sister for doing that. The memories of Paris were still too fresh. But Zoé didn't quit and stuck by her. It was something she didn't realize she needed until it happened again.

"One of our viewers has a question for you, Chloé," said Aurore, doing what she could regain control. "She asks, 'What do you consider to be your proudest achievement?'"

Chloé smiled. That was a no-brainer. "Being able to successfully slow-dance to Renegade by Styx."

They clearly didn't expect that answer. The baffled stares she got wanted to make her laugh. Oh, how she wished she could take a picture. "Are you serious?" Aurore finally asked.

"Have you slow-danced to Renegade by Styx?" she asked back. "It takes some doing."

"And…how would you know?" Mireille was a little curious about the answer. It mixed well with her disbelief.

"Dancing competition," she answered. "It was a job." And the only way she could finish the hunt she had been on.

"An older viewer has a question," Aurore said. "'If you've changed as much everybody seems to think, maybe you can figure out what you did wrong when you were exiled.'" Her eyes widened as she realized just what she had read off. She wasn't the only one.

Chloé was already back to scowling. This time, it had more fury. "Césaire was the one who asked that question, wasn't she?" But that wasn't a question. That was an insult.

"Chloé—"

"No, I'll answer that question. People are owned it, after all. Yes, I made mistakes. Yes, I was a colossal brat who was handed second chances again and again, only to brush them aside. Yes, I let my ego run rampant and land me in more and more trouble. And yes, I did something so massively stupid that I was exiled.

"But there is one thing I will stand by to my last day: it was not all my fault."

The reporters rolled their eyes at that. "Okay, Chloé—"

She wasn't done. "I didn't need a second chance. What I needed was an adult to tell me No. I needed someone who wouldn't just put up with my crap but also call my bluff. Can you imagine what life would've been like if I had teachers that didn't quail to my usual threat? Or if my father didn't spoil me? I might've been a better person!"

No one could deny her statements, because on some level they knew it was true. Marinette looked up at her with sympathetic eyes. Why did that hurt more than anything else right now? Chloé didn't want to see those eyes. "You know what? Since we're currently on honest questions, I've got one for Césaire and all the people who remembered me: just how big was the party Paris had when I left?" she asked. "Actually, here's a better one: if you all had heard I had died before now, would your reactions be something like 'Hallelujah, the Bitch is dead!'?"

Silence greeted Chloé and no one could look her in the eyes. That was answer enough. Her fury petered out. "To all my supporters and defenders, thank you for telling the world that I've changed. I didn't think I made that much of a difference for you."

She disconnected the call and turned off the TV. It took her brain more than a few moments to catch up with her actions and what just happened. It kept repeating over and over in her mind. Only now, the implications loomed large over them.

Her fingers put in another number and she waited while it dialed. "Hello, this is Jody Mills."

Chloé smiled a little at her voice. "Mama," she said with all the love she had.

"Chloé? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, Mama. But…"

"But?"

"I think I just did something stupid." She couldn't help her embarrassed tone. It didn't help she was already looking at the ground.

The silence on the other end felt longer than it should've. That felt worse than any lecture she might've gotten. "…How far away are you?"

"About six hours or so. I'll be home by tomorrow."

"Alright, you can tell me what happened when you get home. Anything else I should be aware of?"

It would dig her hole deeper, but she had to say it. "Keep an eye on French news."

"Alright then. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow. And Chloé?"

Her finger paused as it reached for the red button. "Yes?"

"I love you."

Chloé smiled. "Love you too, Mama." She might not be looking forward to the talk they would have tomorrow. But she went to sleep comforted by the fact she was heading to a place where she would be welcomed and loved.

Later, at Pizza Night, everyone in that house knew about the interview. And while Chloé might've been teased about by her adopted sisters, they were also proud of how she stood for herself.

End

Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Came back to this story fast, didn't I? This chapter pretty much leapt into my head once the first one was done. I wanted to show the contrast of what happened to Chloé. Parisians see her get bullied and they celebrate the fact. Meanwhile, the rest of the world looks at Paris and asks, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Rebecca is definitely what Chloé would've been like if she hadn't been exiled and given a severe reality check. It's a fact she recognizes and hates. As such, she hates Rebecca. Not just because of what she did, but who she represents. When Chloé chewed her out, she was also chewing out the phantom of her younger self.

I'll admit, I don't exactly know what happens in Supernatural. But if I get the gist of it, the brothers find a case in a town, solve it, and head out. One episode I saw mentioned tall tales about the Winchester brothers were already being told, not just by hunters. And since Chloé is doing the same thing, the same thing would happen to her. Of course, after her outburst, she might be a little more famous than she wants to be now.

Considering the outburst, I get the feeling guilt-shaming is going to be heavily involved afterwards. Perhaps to the point where people will look back at the party the city threw when Chloé left with embarrassment. I mean, really, even though it was Chloé, there's just no good way you can explain that.

With that said, this batch is done. The next round is probably going to be a couple of months away. Enjoy what's here and don't be afraid to leave a review.

I'll see you all next chapter!