"Having perfected our disguise, we spend our lives searching for someone we don't fool."

― Robert Brault

III. Part 1 of 6

"Aren't you friends with him, Princess?" Chat asks from below as he sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning casually against one side of Marinette's bed.

He's thumbing through the latest issue of her favorite fashion magazine, peppering observations here or there as he works his way through the pages. His comments reveal what once surprised her – Chat Noir is no stranger to fashion.

Half listening, she loops her needle here, working it through a seam there. "Friends with who?"

"Him," Chat says with enough emphasis that her hand hesitates over the next stitch.

Marinette looks over her shoulder to see Chat holding the magazine open for her to see. On a two-page spread is Adrien Agreste, head to toe in white like a ridiculously perfect Christmas angel. As always, every detail is just right – the hair, the outfit, the subtle smoothness of airbrushing.

Marinette turns back to her work; she's seen the editorial about a thousand times. She hates everything about it. What the world sees is the perfectly coiffed son of fashion icon Gabriel Agreste, following in his father's steps like some obedient museum piece. The world doesn't know how much more there is to Adrien than those two glossy pages.

She hates there was a time when she didn't know either.

"Yes, you know that already."

"How close are you?" he asks as he closes the magazine, casting it aside. He reaches for another, frowning at it as he surveys the cover up and down.

"Close, I guess?"

It's not as if they've never discussed Adrien. They have, of course, just like they've talked about all of Marinette's friends. Chat knows a lot about Marinette – her hopes, dreams, likes, dislikes, and so much more. He is, of all the people in Marinette's life, the only person to know her in and out of costume.

Things between them are easy and natural; they exist together without thought, without any of Marinette's complicated overthinking. She can't help but trust him as much as she does, even out of her suit. For eight years, they've been a team, even if he doesn't realize it.

That's a bit of deceit that will get her into trouble someday – but that's a worry for another time.

For now, he visits his civilian friend every other night, stepping into her neat studio with his puns and his companionship.

"Close, or close-close?" She hears Chat's next question on the heels of an impatient huff.

"Close-close?" Marinette laughs. "Meaning?"

At first this seems like a bit of their usual banter, the playful conversation she's come to enjoy sharing with Chat.

"Meaning, would you stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life?"

Marinette's hand pauses over its next loop. Turning, she sees the cover of the magazine Chat pulled from the stack. She recognizes the cover, just as she recognized Adrian's editorial.

Adrien and Chloe, arm in arm, smile in their dazzling, practiced way. The headline announces: Chloe and Adrian, Engaged at Last! If Chat bothered to open to article inside, he would know what all of Paris knows:

Adrien Agreste and Chloe Bourgeois, both 22, are engaged to marry in the spring.

They makes sense; they always have. She, daughter of Paris's mayor and owner of Le Grand Paris, André Bourgeois. He, son to designer and couturier, Gabriel Agreste. Theirs is a courtship written in the stars. Destined, sensible...expected.

Marinette did not despair to first hear the news. Her relationship with Adrien – a comfortable, companionable friendship – is something that had bloomed between them in the aftermath of her obsessive crush. Even her rivalry with Chloe has since evolved into an odd, begrudging mutual respect.

Looking at the cover in silence, Marinette considers Chat's last question. She swallows, jerking her chin and shoulders around to escape the heat of Chat's gaze.

Would you stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life?

His question fills the space as it grows between them. It's as if the temperature inside her apartment has dropped by several degrees, despite the warm, end-of-summer breeze brushing in and out of her open windows.

"Adrien loves Chloe," she says, stabbing her needle into its next stitch, pulling it through with more force than necessary.

She's stung somehow. He doesn't know the first thing about Chloe and Adrien. All he knows of them he's learned from Marinette (or the tabloids, she supposes). What does he even know?

"But maybe he doesn't love her...romantically. Maybe it's just friendship. And duty. Maybe it's only because of what's expected."

As Ladybug, Marinette knows a lot about expectations. Chat does too...and so does Adrien.

"The answer is no."

"No?"

"No," Marinette confirms, another rough prick into her latest project. "I am not going to stop Adrien Agreste from marrying his girlfriend."

"Even if you knew it was was the wrong thing for him?" She ignores the betrayal in his voice; another detail that begins nagging at her, like a loose thread begging to be tugged free.

"Chat," she says, breathing in and holding it for a moment. She blows it out, rustling her bangs. "Sometimes it isn't our place. Sometimes...our friends have to take responsibility for their own lives. For better or worse."

"You don't think he should marry her." He may as well have said Aha! I knew it!

"Chat–"

"You think it's a mistake."

"I didn't say that–"

"Marinette." His speaks slowly. His voice urges her. "Be honest with me."

She doesn't even think when she answers this time. Her mind is at work with a creeping suspicion, one that distracts her into saying, "No, I don't think he should marry her."

And there it is between her and Chat. For all she had learned to turn her romantic feelings into friendship with Adrien, like some patient, masochistic Rumpelstiltskin...there it still is. Her concern, her worry, her feelings.

"I would say," she says, turning her face into her dress form. "Don't do something that doesn't make you happy. Don't settle for anything, not for anyone. No matter what."

She rests her head against the form's padded shoulder, bangs falling into her eyes. Suddenly, she is so, so tired with the weight of this conversation. "I would say...Don't do this, if it isn't what you truly want."

And she would say it to Adrien, if he asked. Not for any reason other than her love for him as her friend. It is more important to her than anything; more important even than the embers of old feelings, the twinge of their unfinished business.

Softly she adds, "But it's not my place. It isn't yours either, to say that."

Chat is quiet then, and their eyes meet across her room. Marinette's breath catches at the look in his eyes, the incongruent mix of regret and hope. As if her words hurt, but also as if they're a key to something.

Chat seems to choose his words carefully as he gets to his feet. His movement is quick and graceful, as though he is truly feline. "Maybe it's what he should hear."

"Chat, this isn't about you." Marinette shakes her head, turning away again.

"But what if it was?" he says, and she can hear him moving toward her.

But what if it was?

Misgiving begins to prickle again at Marinette, like an itch. Her brain starts connecting dots that she hadn't thought to before, faster and faster as the silence and implications stretch between her and Chat. Countless details begin pitching together. She can feel the weight of a certainty beginning to form. A dreadful, irrefutable truth.

A truth, she feels, he is begging her to piece together.

When she turns, she is blinded by a sudden flash of green light. The strike burns Marinette's vision, but her eyes adjust quickly. She is used to working around it with every one of her own transformations...and de-transformations.

She squeezes her eyes shut in panic, but she knows they can't stay that way forever. Her partner has made a choice. All that's left is to accept the reality of the truth he has given her. Forced on her.

She has a strong suspicion of who is standing there. Her gut rarely misleads her.

She opens her eyes, facing the inevitable. The thread between Before and After snaps, like a dam bursting open.

There they are, face to face, civilian to civilian. Friend to friend.

"Adrien."