Due to a certain depressing day having just passed, Adrien had professionally declined a photoshoot in New York. He hadn't felt like traveling that far when Ladybug's own memorial day had been so recent. Per the norm, his father strongly disapproved of this choice but Adrien was a grown man now and had already spread his wings. The nest was empty and Gabriel had no one to control or contain.

Maybe it was just because he had grown up in quite a wealthy environment, the uppermost level of the upper class, at the very top of the proverbial food chain…but he did still like to have plenty of money, enough to buy anything he wished for at any time. It was a huge disconnect from the life he chose for himself now but if he ever needed anything or if he needed to help pay for damage he had caused as Chat Noir—to which there was often much of—then he could afford it. It wasn't uncommon for him to donate money either. He didn't try to bring attention to that but Adrien Agreste had made quite a humble and kindhearted name for himself when repeatedly caught by the press doing anything beneficial to society, from charity donations to volunteer work.

And one day, if he ever met the right girl, he could settle down and have a family that wouldn't have to face financial adversity. If his wife or children had preexisting medical issues, they would be covered. His bride could have the grandest wedding in all of France with every kind of flower and color she could ever dream of. His daughter could have an actual pony with a horn strapped to its head. His son could have the most advanced gaming system. His hamster would be named- Well...if his wife and kids wanted a hamster; if not then it really didn't matter anyway. On top of this he was Chat Noir, perfectly capable of protecting his future wife and kids from harm, be it a petty break-in or an akuma. He could serve his family in all the ways a man was supposed to.

He'd dated quite a few times after Ladybug, figuring he had to move on from her if he ever wanted to have a good life, but none of them were the right girl and most were in it for the money. Especially knowing he was handsome and rich, love wasn't very easy to come by, so he did try his best to make things work if she was genuine. And, yes, a few of those girls did happen to be celebrities—only two hadn't been with him just to make sure they got double the coverage on all newspapers and magazines and certain TV shows. Looking back, he was pretty sure they were in it for a popularity boost. And since he was a multilingual worldwide fashion model with a famous designer for a father, he never had a problem attracting attention from the fairer sex. That said, despite being very loyal to any current girlfriends, they all treated him with subservience to keep him around. The celebrity break-ups were always so dramatic…it made him hate the idea of dating anyone remotely famous.

But not all people were like that. He still saw his old friends when he could. He kept up with Alya constantly on the Ladyblog, which by now had been reformatted and devoted more to Chat Noir now—Alya kept the name to honor Ladybug. She and Nino had—

"Turn left," a photographer told him. "Hold very still. I take many picture."

He turned to his side and posed with a hand on his hip while his other hand hung limply at his side. He looked innocently into the camera lens with a soft smile.

Alya and Nino had actually ended up getting married after two break-ups. Now they had two daughters and a son. They'd stopped trying to hook him up with a disinterested Marinette a long time ago and now would reassure him that one day he would have what they had. With all his responsibilities to Paris, he hadn't exactly put a domestic life on a pedestal like they thought he had.

Like him, the rest of his friends had moved forward in life too. He didn't see them as much as Nino or Alya, a package deal, but he kept in contact with everyone and was never out of the loop with what was going on. Marinette was the only one who grew more flaky as time passed. Now it was anyone's guess as to when she would reply and what she would reply to. His father had allowed her to intern under his company and she shadowed many great designers, improving her own natural skills by a landslide. One would think he, as a model who occasionally showed off her original designs, would hear from her the most. Ever since the alleged death of Ladybug that hadn't been the case. She sent in proposals and packages would arrive with an array of handmade clothes, but actual conversation rarely happened. It was usually professional now and she rarely showed herself—and when she did, it was brief. She would never stick around long enough for anyone to truly catch up. But she looked like she was doing okay for herself. So far he really only knew she visited her parents' bakery every two or three days, her home supposedly not too far from it, and that she tended to get more stressed out when a deadline was days away, which in turn meant she became almost entirely unresponsive to any messages. He never saw a ring on her finger so he assumed she was still unmarried. It was a little sad, actually… Everyone else seemed to be getting married and starting families and new lives but then there was Marinette, who either wasn't moving forward at all or was very sluggish in doing so. He wasn't hitched for obvious reasons but he couldn't think of anything outwardly wrong that would prevent her from marriage, not after all these years… But maybe there was nothing wrong at all. Maybe she just didn't meet the right man or maybe she simply didn't want to get married.

But at least she was fine and well. He could rarely meet up in public without being mobbed so most "outings" were through video chat. Sometimes they would gather at a café and bring a laptop, turn it in their direction, and they would all talk like that. He made sure to wear concealing clothes and dark glasses though. It probably made him look shady but it kept those maniacs away from his friends… And when he did dare step foot in public, he had to make certain he was covered all the way—hat, glasses, long overcoat, a scarf in winter… The whole nine yards.

"I need you to look up at sky, think of wish," the photographer said.

Adrien turned his eyes skyward and thought of Ladybug. She was really the only thing he could wish for so soon after that interview… Sometimes he wondered what would've happened if only he hadn't let her leave on their last battle. He'd known she was sick. The few battles before her final one she hadn't looked so well either. She never got better. And instead of helping her, instead of personally seeing to it that she got the help she obviously needed, he chose to leave her to her own devices. He chose to believe that she wasn't as sick as she looked simply because she said so. He had blatantly dismissed the notion that she could've been downplaying it the whole time.

He had spent two whole years blaming himself for her disappearance. It couldn't have been mere coincidence that she was never seen again after being sick for four battles. But he'd finally come to accept that it wasn't completely his fault. He didn't know her true identity, first of all, so it would've been awfully hard to force her to see a medical professional. Secondly, she hated lying, and he chose to trust her against his better judgment because of that. And thirdly, she was clearly weak and didn't have half the strength she normally would've, but she wasn't vomiting or feverish, she wasn't passing out or staggering around with the balance and grace of a newborn gazelle, and he didn't see any physical injuries on her…nothing to suggest she could be really hurt. He naturally assumed that like she'd said, she just hadn't been sleeping much and "that was why she hadn't been feeling so well lately."

But after she vanished, after she didn't show up for the next akuma attack, he knew inside that sleep—assuming she wasn't lying about that—hadn't been the only factor played. Yes, she was sick, but he hadn't known she would permanently stop being Ladybug over it. He hadn't known how bad it really was…otherwise he would've found a way to get her medical help. Whether or not it was his fault didn't stop him from feeling like at least part of it was, like he could've saved her the last time he saw her. If she had just asked him for help, or let him know in some way that something was very wrong with her, he would've gone through hell and high water to make her better. But she didn't and now, even he was trying to cope with the fact that she probably was dead.

Maybe he was actually just refusing to believe it because he dreaded hearing the truth, and dreaded accepting it even more. The only thing that ever put his mind somewhat at ease was thinking Ladybug could still be out there, somewhere, alive. Ironically, though, he of all people knew that nobody wanted to believe what they didn't want to hear. And with his close connection to her, he wanted to believe it least of all. There was probably some psychological malfunction in him stopping him from listening to the rest of the world and basic logic.

"No, no, not thinking face," the photographer said. "Wish face. Wish for something good."

He took a deep breath and instead of actually thinking of the one thing he really wished for, he played a series of random memories with Ladybug in his head. It managed to bring a little smile to his face, enough to please his Asian photographer—who had, in fairness, come from Japan but made an effort to speak another language for Adrien's sake. So credit for courtesy.

"Very good, very good!"

A quick barrage of bright lights and the sound of a shutter snapping at least ten times per second assaulted him. Between the sun just above his line of sight and the new bright flashes coming from the corners of his vision, his eyes were starting to hurt. Normally sunlight wasn't bothersome but he was looking almost directly at it.

It only took a mere few seconds for all the bright light to be done with but by the time it did end, his eyes were starting to sting. The moment he was told he was done, his head shot down and he closed his eyes, rubbing them as if that could help alleviate the pain.

"These good pictures," the photographer exclaimed as he viewed the photos on his camera. "I send these to my company! Thank you, Adrien, we are done here."

Adrien smiled and nodded his head. "You're welcome."

He continued to rub his eyes for a bit but he could hear fans swooning in the background, behind the camera…behind the tape that was set up like a weak fence to keep the crowd away only as a visual signal to pass no farther.

He opened his eyes and blinked away remaining spots obstructing his vision. The photographer bowed quickly and walked off, dialing a number on his cellphone and speaking cheerily in Japanese to someone on the other end. The rest of his crew gave each other orders to remove the set from this park.

He had been all too happy to model at this specific park. It brought him back to the good old days, all the free time teenagers had to spend with friends on weekends—whatever free time his father would agree to give him, anyway.

He sighed and pulled at the collar of his shirt, reading a small signature that seemed to become more rushed with each new design. Marinette. It had been quite a while since he last heard from her, let alone seen her, and only Alya had seen a mere glimpse of her entering her parents' bakery. They didn't stop to say hi at that particular moment and Alya had decided to come by later, only to discover that Marinette had already left. Maybe there was another deadline he didn't know about.

After the photographer and his crew left, Adrien sat on the edge of the fountain and took in the fresh air, beautiful day, and tried to block out the voices of his fans to make a more peaceful atmosphere for himself. But of course a great day to relax in his favorite park—loud fans or not—would only last maybe ten minutes before all the voices were drowned out by a deep rumble in the distance. There was no way anyone was shooting an action movie right by the park he happened to be modeling at.

He groaned as his already noisy fans scattered like confused ants, screaming and running away, no longer caring about his very existence. Chat time…again… Famous or not, he still didn't get enough credit for dealing with these things.

"Well," Plagg said from inside Adrien's jacket, "this little park visit was your idea."

"Yeah, I figured the sunset would look great," Adrien grumbled.

If he fought here though, things would be destroyed. But if he allowed the akumatized victim to go near the park without fighting them, the commemorative statue of Ladybug and Chat Noir—of their younger selves—that sat proudly at the center could be gone in a snap. A snap. And he'd become quite a sentimental soul over time. This lifelike statue was the closest thing he had left to being able to touch Ladybug, even if the feeling of cold, lifeless metal was all he would get in return. Nothing at all like her soft, human warmth. Like the sensation of leaning against her chest and listening to her heart beat rhythmically. Like looking into eyes reflecting a clear summer sky and finding out at night that they reflect the stars too. Like watching her smile a little when she blushed and looked away because by pure luck he managed to say just the right thing. Like seeing her bat her eyelashes for the sole purpose of teasing him right before she ran off to revert to her civilian persona. Like hearing her laugh because he did something stupid.

Nothing about this manmade imperfection, both staining and blessing the world with its existence, could replicate any of that. But it had to stay.

"It's pretty ridiculous to want to protect a hunk of metal, huh…?" he murmured to Plagg.

"Again with that stupid statue!" complained the kwami. "It's worthless!"

Adrien took a deep breath and made sure nobody was watching him. As people were running around in a panic, he could assure himself that nobody was watching and probably didn't even notice how he was the only one not fleeing the opposite direction.

He rounded a building and hid himself in a narrow alleyway.

"Plagg, claws out!" he said.

An electrifying power coursed through his body. He felt all the familiar changes he would undergo to become Chat Noir. His clothes, his strength, his claws, even a heightened sense of confidence within himself. He only ever seemed to become absolutely sure of his power and capabilities when he transformed. Maybe because Paris relied on him. All the people running, screaming, needed a protector and he was called to be such.

He managed to pick apart some phrases among the frantic shouting and incoherent screeches. The most unsettling was that he most often heard people cry out for other people by name—they were losing their friends in the chaos. He'd heard this kind of thing before but…why was it so upsetting to him now? There didn't seem to be more people calling out than usual… And he didn't hear any famous names within the scattered crowd…

He extended his baton and slammed one end on the asphalt of the road, rising quickly to the nearest rooftop to analyze the situation at hand. It was by chance—he knew it was only by chance—that he spotted Alya huddled against the locked doors of a restaurant, staying quietly behind a row of tables outside each window. Not far from her was Nino. The moment Chat realized that Nino was calling out for someone too, that specific voice became louder and more prominent to him than the rest.

Seeing Alya's terrified look as she refused to budge from her spot while her husband had obviously lost someone was concern enough for him to redirect himself from the akuma victim to Nino and Alya.

He extended his baton again, this time jumping off the roof at an angle that would be a geometric nightmare for anyone unaccustomed to doing this, and landed perfectly in front of Alya. He hadn't seen it from above but Alya was holding her youngest—her one-year-old daughter named Nicolette—and hovering right above her oldest, her six-year-old daughter named Raiss. But her son wasn't with her, and he immediately realized who Nino was trying to find.

"Chat Noir!" Alya exclaimed as she brought her head up from consoling her oldest. "My son is missing!"

Another rumble, far sharper and louder than the first, sounded like it rose from the ground and somehow struck the sky. An uneasy feeling rose when dark clouds immediately shot across the sky, covering what he could see above the city in seconds.

"Where did you last see him?" he asked.

"He got scared, he ran off the other way!"

She pointed directly opposite of herself, in the same general direction Nino was yelling.

Marcel was only four, fast enough to run off and small enough to not be seen. With dark clouds came rain and with an akuma came a maelstrom. A four-year-old couldn't be stuck out there under these conditions, even if aforementioned akuma was far away—which it obviously was not, making things a little worse for everyone.

"Don't worry, I'll find him," Chat assured her.

He looked at the restaurant as winds began to stir. The doors were still locked but… Alya couldn't move with two little ones in tow, at least not in time to avoid what was coming, and Nino was all but useless unless he completely abandoned Alya…and he couldn't abandon her, she wouldn't be enough to protect two young children if something were to happen. She needed her husband and Nino knew it.

Chat raised his foot and kicked the doors as hard as he could, the lock breaking, forcing them to slam open and provide this family with shelter.

"Thank you!"

He nodded his welcomes.

Alya ushered Raiss inside and brought both her daughters behind a desk.

The winds grew even stronger, this time colder as well, and he found himself wishing the lock on the door hadn't broken with the force of his kick. That place would be pretty cold soon and even though Alya could provide body heat for the kids, he didn't like the idea of them being too cold, and her warmth eventually petering out.

He ran to get Nino next who, unlike Alya, was more reluctant to move. His main case was that he didn't want to be any farther from his son than he had to. Understandable but…he had two other kids and a wife who needed him with her. And eventually, after elaborating how the logic behind Nino "running away" and Chat finding Marcel was the best way to go rather than them working together to find the boy, Nino relented and ran to his family inside the restaurant.

By the time he had managed to get Nino to safety, the winds were angrily howling—this was, most likely, the real reason Nino obeyed him.

But now came the daunting task of finding a tiny child in weather that was making his eyes water and his limbs freeze, who had a thousand places he could've crawled into. Even worse than Marcel going unseen was him being so young. He would know to hide by instinct but at the same time he was used to the protection and watchfulness of his parents, which meant that hiding was merely an option and there was just as much chance he could be wandering around right now looking for Alya and Nino. Chat Noir always appeared on TV so maybe Marcel would know to come to him…even though when the weather was so dark his black outfit only made him better camouflaged. Perfect for akumas but absolutely horrible when trying to be a beacon for someone to find. And with strong winds he wasn't sure how well anyone would be able to hear him anymore, let alone a kid just barely past toddlerhood.

"MARCEL!" he screamed as he leapt from roof to roof scanning all spaces between buildings.

Maybe it was totally useless to call for him but there was a small chance that Marcel could hear him if they were in close enough proximity to each other.

Rain could fall any minute. It would freeze the boy even more. He couldn't deal with the akuma—he couldn't stop this weather—until Marcel was found. The longer the search took the worse the situation would be, especially considering he hadn't even seen the akuma yet. He didn't know its weakness. He didn't know how to stop it. He hardly had a choice though. An adult would probably be able to shrug this off with time but a little boy could fall gravely ill. Akuma or not…civilians' lives were his first priority.

"MARCEL!"

The next rumble was actually in the sky and more distinctly identified as thunder, which was always accompanied with lightning somewhere. If he was lucky, this would end up being a thunderstorm with no rain. But, unfortunately, Adrien—never Chat Noir—knew how terrified Marcel was of loud sounds.

Or…actually, maybe this was a good thing. Maybe instead of running and cowering quietly, he would start crying. It was possible to track sound with the enhanced hearing of Chat Noir. Right? Just because the winds were so loud didn't necessarily mean he couldn't hear Marcel, even if Marcel couldn't hear him.

"MARCEL!" Still worth a shot if he could grab the boy's attention from wherever he was at.

He saw a moving cardboard box up against the side of another building and at first it was a huge relief…until he lifted it up. A stray cat—a black cat, go figure—hissed at him and darted away. It…It probably wouldn't have fit a kid anyway. Maybe.

He sighed.

"MARCEL!"

It felt like hours of searching before the heavens opened up. Sprinkles of water lasted only seconds before the real storm hit. The force of nature amplified tenfold on his face and even through an extraordinarily durable suit, he felt the cold sting of each insanely sharp drop. As if that wasn't enough, his vision was even worse. He was fine seeing in the dark, that wasn't much of a problem, but now there were physical substances obscuring his field of vision. He would have to be right on top of Marcel to see him at this rate.

He gave up on shouting now that a torrent had come—even he could barely hear anything—and settled himself on the ground. The people that had once flooded this place were gone, leaving these dreary roads empty and barren…not a bad thing when trying to find a single individual.

He proceeded on his own to check each alley, each space, and move towards each darker spot he could make out in the distance, beyond a clear view of what it really was. Each empty place became more and more disheartening. He was beginning to think the boy wasn't here after all, and had run off somewhere else. Perhaps someone else had found him and decided to get him away since he was so young.

What if such a thing happened? What if someone had been that kind? What if he was wasting his time looking for someone who had already escaped? He could spend all night letting an akuma roam free looking for Marcel, all without knowing that he wasn't even here anymore. There was no way a boy that young could've gotten too far on his own…right?

He put a hand over his eyes and looked around, turning in circles to increase the scope of his vision. No Marcel. Not even the vague outline of a human being of any size or age.

A huge light flashed from above, the crack of thunder following a fraction of a second later.

But that lightning was the very break he needed. It was just one flash but he managed to see a small person curled into a ball in what he assumed to be terror. Marcel.

He ran almost blindly in that direction and retracted his baton, securing it in his belt.

The little person was in fact Marcel and the boy was freezing. Chat was probably just as icy…he wouldn't be able to provide any warmth whatsoever as he took Marcel back to Alya and Nino, who were probably worried out of their minds and slowly losing faith in his promise.

He was glad he himself hadn't lost faith… If he'd chosen to stop looking for Marcel on the weak assumption, supported by no evidence at all, that the boy was already safe, Marcel wouldn't have gotten out of this thing unscathed.

Chat picked him up and carried him all the way back to the restaurant, feeling him shiver so violently in Chat's arms that it nearly terrified him. If he let this kid die—whether from later infection or hypothermia—it would kill him too. He'd already failed to save one close person and she was right there the whole time giving him however many opportunities, he wasn't going to fail anyone else if there was even the slightest chance he could help them, whatever cost may be.

He reached the doors of the restaurant and slowed to a steady walk, the child on the verge of convulsing from his touch.

"I found him!" he announced.

Both parents immediately rushed to him and, for a moment, looked horrified at Marcel's condition. Nino took the boy from Chat's arms and pressed his son instinctively against his body to warm Marcel up.

"He's ice cold!" Alya panicked as she put a hand on Marcel.

Chat wiped his face off and shook his head to get some of the water out.

"Keep him warm," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back sooner."

Nino and Alya exchanged a quick glance.

"Don't…don't worry about it," Alya said. "He's safe now."

"If I had the turtle miraculous this wouldn't have happened…" Nino muttered.

"Don't blame yourself," Chat said. "The important thing is, Marcel's safe with his parents. And now it's time for everyone else to be safe too."

He didn't wait for a reply and headed back into the storm—if it could even qualify as just a storm by now—and took to the rooftops again to locate the akuma.

While the akuma was his primary focus, something else caught his eye, something that he actually had to process.

Another large, obnoxious flash of lightning. In front of it, silhouetted by the blinding light, a figure had jumped up to a height no regular human being could ever reach. He swore…he swore he saw red, the barest glimpse of red on the otherwise pitch black figure.

Ladybug.