Hi y'all! So Ephemeral was a thing, huh? I enjoyed it overall, but I was also curious about the plot hole that is "Why didn't Luka at any point mention that he knows Chat Noir's identity?" And when I see a plot hole like that, I want to fill it.
This short scene imagines what might have happened if he did mention it, and why Ladybug would have proceeded with her plan anyway.
(This takes place right before Ladybug enacts her plan to learn Chat Noir's identity. For an optimal reading experience, you'll want to have watched Ephemeral and Wishmaker already :D)
[Read on AO3]
-----------
“Second chance!”
Ladybug tapped her timer. Over her earpiece, she heard Viperion do the same.
“Countdown started! It’s 1 AM. Five minutes left before you detransform. We’ve got to be done by—”
“Before you do this,” Viperion’s voice crackled in her ear. “I need to tell you something.”
Ladybug frowned. He sounded uncharacteristically strained.
“Well, hurry! Chat Noir is almost here!”
“Do you remember Wishmaker?”
“Yes, but why…” Ladybug felt her stomach drop. “Oh no.”
There was a sound behind her. Chat Noir had landed on the railing.
“Hello, m’lady! Am I interrupting something?”
Ladybug shot him a quick smile over her shoulder. “Uh… no! I mean… nothing important. Just one second, kitty!”
She hunched over, pressing a hand to her ear.
“You know who he is?” she hissed.
“Yeah.”
Ladybug felt something hot and squirmy rising in her chest. She forced it down.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could have avoided all of this—”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said in a rush. “You didn’t need this to think about, on top of everything else—”
“But I said it was okay for you to know!” Ladybug said, exasperated. “If you didn’t tell me after Wishmaker, you could at least have told me in the…”
Then she remembered what she had said in the sewer. If we need to, a superhero can know the identity of Chat Noir, or Ladybug. But not both.
Her mouth felt dry. She had to force the words out. “You know who I am too, don’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, but Viperion was kind enough to answer it anyway.
“I do.”
“Um, m’lady?” Chat Noir called out again. “Is everything okay?”
For a moment, Ladybug stood frozen, completely hollow. She felt like laughing or crying but couldn’t quite bring herself to do either. Instead, she slapped a smile on her face and turned to face Chat Noir.
“It’s fine!” she said. “Um. I just wanted to say, we missed you today! It was totally harder without you there.”
“Oh, um, thanks?” Chat said. “But are you sure that’s all? You seem kind of… not well.” He took a step closer, eyes tight with worry.
“What, me?” Ladybug laughed, feeling the sound echo in her chest. “I’m fine! Never been better!”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” Viperion said through the earpiece. It was quiet enough that Ladybug wasn’t sure it was meant for her, but it didn’t matter.
“You should never have hidden it from me in the first place!” she snapped. “How can I plan if I don’t know what’s going on?”
Chat Noir frowned. “Hidden? Plan? Ladybug, what are you talking about?”
Ladybug opened her mouth, then hesitated. Should she…?
“Viperion knows our identities. Since Wishmaker,” she said, and with that statement, the weight of the truth crashed in on her. “Both of our identities. If he ever gets akumatized, he’ll reveal us to Hawkmoth. That’s… we can’t…”
Her knees wobbled. She slumped to the ground. Chat Noir crouched down in front of her and placed a worried hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.
“It’s okay, I can fix this. I can get Bunnix, she has time powers… But no, that won’t do it, it was too long ago…”
“Oh, come on,” Viperion said thorough the earpiece, a hard edge in his voice. “Is it really that bad? You knew this might happen. Why did you let me help if you weren’t ready for the consequences?”
“I didn’t think they would actually happen!” Ladybug said, tears edging into her voice. She forced herself to breathe. “Lu—Viperion, you know that I trust you. I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I didn’t. But even so, this isn’t something I can just brush off. This is bad. If Hawkmoth ever finds out, he’ll find a way to akumatize you no matter how many charms I give you, and you’ll tell him who we are, and he’ll come to find us, and we won’t be able to fight him off, and he’ll capture our families, and…” Her hands were shaking. She was vaguely aware of Chat looking at her with big, scared eyes. Scared for her? Scared for them both? “I have to find something to do… there is something, there has to be, I just have to…”
“You can’t fix it, Ladybug.” Viperion’s voice was soft, but firm. “Unless you can erase my memory, which I don’t think you can. Ah—you could kill me, I suppose, but…”
“Kill—!” Ladybug choked. “Are you insane?”
“See? Then I will always have your secrets. I’ll protect them, of course. but I can’t stop myself from having them. Neither can you.”
“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean… I can still…”
Viperion sighed.
“I thought it would go this way,” he said. “Sorry to bother you with this. I should never have mentioned it.”
Something about the resignation in his voice unnerved her. She ripped out her bug phone—1:04 AM. Still inside the window of Second Chance.
“Viperion, don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“You were going to turn back time just now, weren’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Viperion, you don’t get to make that decision for me! I need to have information like this, even if it scares me. Even if it makes things worse.” She swallowed. “I thought you valued the truth. Don’t you?”
The timer ticked down.
Viperion sighed again.
“I do. But I don’t value the thought of someone I love destroying herself over something she can’t change. If that’s selfish of me, if that’s dishonest of me, then I guess I’m going to be selfish and dishonest. Just this once.” She heard a sad smile in his voice. “Besides, the fewer people know that I know, the safer it is, right?”
“Luka, NO—”
---
“Second chance!”
“Countdown started! It’s 1 AM. Five minutes left before you detransform. We’ve got to be done by 1:05…”
Ladybug tapped her timer. Over her earpiece, she heard Viperion do the same.
Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.
Adrien sat cross-legged on his couch, watching Marinette destroy Nino in Ultimate Mecha Strike III. She had her tongue out, like she always did when she was concentrating. It was adorable. Not for the first time, Adrien wondered at the amazing girl who was sitting in front of him—adorable, strong, and also, his.
He never stopped wondering at that.
It had been a week. A week was hardly enough time to process all the changes that had taken place, but processing they were. And things were finally starting to feel, if not normal, at least a bit less weird. Less surreal.
They had skipped school on Monday. No one complained. It seemed, that with Hawkmoth identified and captured, Paris had finally let out the collective breath it had been holding and was ready to let life continue in its normal, crazy ways. Crazy ways that sometimes meant that you were classmates with a pair of superheroes who had to skip school because they had been up until 4am capturing a supervillain.
But it wasn’t the exhaustion that had kept them from school—they had both had late nights before. It was Adrien’s need to process everything that had just happened and Marinette’s refusal to leave him alone in that giant, empty house of his, even for a school day. After the events of the night were through, both she and her parents had insisted that either he come to their house, or they go to his. He had agreed on theirs in an instant.
He had meant what he said to his father—he wanted to talk. He wanted to understand. But while that resolve may have mitigated his confusion, betrayal, and loss, it didn’t eliminate them. He had spent much of the next day in a daze, watched closely by Marinette and her parents, as well as Nathalie and the Gorilla who, to Adrien’s surprise, had showed up on Marinette’s doorstep the next morning, demanding to see that he was okay. Thanks to their careful tending, he soon came back to himself. His father may be awaiting trial, but life would go on. They would work things out eventually. In the meantime, and far beyond the meantime, he would have people taking care of him.
Returning to school had been less of an ordeal that Adrien had imagined. The mayor had come out with his official declaration of support on Monday morning, so by the time he and Marinette re-entered society, the matter was all but settled. He did get his fair share of surprise and admiration from his classmates, who had only learned from the coverage of Sunday night’s events that Adrien was Chat, but that, too, soon settled. After all, being a superhero didn’t change who he was any more than changing his clothes did.
The only thing that really affected him was the outpouring of sympathy he received from his classmates after they learned what happened to his father. Every bracing smile, every pat on the back, was a reminder that he had people around him who would support him through anything, even this. It was almost enough to bring him to tears.
Then that settled as well, and life went on as usual. Well, almost usual.
A ring from Adrien’s phone alarm cut through the air, interrupting Marinette’s Mecha Strike victory dance. She looked over at him in surprise.
“Is it really time already?” she said. “I thought we had half an hour yet.”
“Well, I guess we do, technically,” Adrien said, silencing the alarm. “But we do still have to get over there. That takes some time. And I thought it would be a good to get there a bit early, since we’re making first impressions and all.”
Alya laughed. “Marinette? Early? There’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear.” She rocked forward on the couch, looking seriously at Marinette. “This boy is going to be very good for you, Marinette.”
Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Yeah, yeah. I guess it would be smart to make a good impression.”
They all started to rise, shuffling around, gathering belongings. Adrien looked around for the backpacks he and Marinette had packed, finding them behind the couch. He picked them up gently, careful not to wake the kwamis sleeping inside.
“You guys nervous?” Nino asked, looking from Marinette to Adrien. “They are firemen, after all. That’s pretty intense.”
Adrien shrugged. “Well, we’ve worked with them before. Not in civilian form, but you know.”
In truth, he was a bit nervous. Nervous and excited. Their new situation—identities revealed and without a supervillain to fight against—meant that he and Ladybug could start working more closely with the city’s own peacekeepers and everyday heroes. They would be both partner and student, learning from the older men and women even as they helped them to keep Paris safe. That announcement had certainly pleased the mayor, who thought it might placate his anxious supporters. But that wasn’t why they were doing it. They were just doing what they always did—keeping peace and keeping people safe, by each other’s sides.
Nathalie, who had been managing the house in his father’s absence, saw them off at the door. The four friends walked together for some time, but eventually Marinette and Adrien had to break off to go towards the fire station while Alya and Nino continued towards the park.
“Good luck!” Alya said, giving Marinette a hug. “Kick some butt!”
Marinette smiled and hugged her back. Nino and Adrien exchanged a fist bump, decided that was hardly enough, and ended up hugging too.
“Don’t forget, you owe me a hang sesh with Chat,” Nino said as they broke apart. “And there had better be some cool rooftops or it doesn’t count.”
Adrien smiled. “Anytime, man. Just let me know.”
Then Alya and Nino departed, leaving Marinette and Adrien alone. They both turned and started walking towards the fire station, a bit slower than before.
“You ready for this?” Marinette said quietly. “It hasn’t been that long. Are you sure you don’t want more time?”
Adrien took a deep breath. “No, this is good,” he said. “I think it’ll help to focus on something, you know? Something that’s not…”
“Not connected to my father” was what he was going to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t need to, though. Marinette nodded in understanding.
“I’ll go talk to him soon,” Adrien said, though he knew he didn’t need to defend himself to her. “But… right now…”
Marinette took his hand in hers and squeezed. “I know. It’ll take time. That’s okay,” she said. “You have time.” Then she smiled. “And you have me.”
Adrien couldn’t help smiling back. “I know that, silly,” he said, kissing her forehead. “We have each other.”
They kept holding hands until they reached the fire station. When they finally let go, they did so with a squeeze and a nod and an unspoken promise—if one of them ever needed a hand to hold, the other would be there, ready. That promise bound them together, giving them strength, steadying them.
Let the future bring what it would. They were ready.
Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.
Adrien had barely finished speaking when a giant crash echoed in the staircase above them.
“Hawkmoth,” Marinette said, snapping upright and leaping to her feet. “We have to go, now! Tikki, spots on!”
Tikki zoomed out from between two rows of shelves to meet Marinette and with a flash of bright pink light, transformed her into Ladybug. She pulled Adrien to his feet.
“Plagg?” Adrien called, and after a moment, his own sardonic kwami appeared as well.
“This gift shop sucks,” he whined. “No camembert. No brie even! It’s unforgivable!”
Adrien smirked and raised an eyebrow, feeling his spirits lifting. “No time for that now, Plagg. Claws out!”
Adrien felt strength surging into his body as bright green light flashed around him. He flexed his leather-clad fingers, enjoying the renewed vitality of his muscles.
“Better?” Ladybug asked.
“Better,” Chat nodded. “Now let’s—”
He was interrupted by the sound of the glass door of the shop, already hanging rather crooked on its hinges, shattering. The pair whirled around to see Hawkmoth standing in the ruined doorway, surrounded by butterflies. He raised an arm.
“Left! Now!” Ladybug yelled, and the pair dodged behind a row of shelves just in time to avoid a stream of butterflies as it shot towards them.
“Plan?” Chat said, pressing his back to the shelf. “Do we have a plan?”
“I’m thinking!” Ladybug said. “For now, just dodge, and don’t get split up!”
The butterflies were pooling around them now in undulating clouds. The pair fended them off with yo-yo and staff, running and ducking between shelves, never staying in one place for too long. They knew from various sounds that Hawkmoth was gliding around in the air above them, but the horde of butterflies made him practically invisible.
“We need to get outside!” Ladybug said. “In the open air, where we can see him!”
They both looked around, searching for anything they could use to their advantage. Chat’s eyes landed on the shelf next to them. He kicked it over, sending it crashing to the ground. Butterflies swarmed around them in an instant, forcing them on the defensive once more.
“What was that for?” Ladybug shouted, back pressed against his, yo-yo spinning.
“I don’t know!” Chat called back. “A distraction? I’m improvising!”
“Well, improvise somewhere not here!”
Chat looked around again. There was a shelf in the corner with some lovely looking snow globes. A rapid extension of his baton sent them skidding across the floor, spilling glass fragments, confetti, and water. The butterfly swarm thinned as a wave of them went to investigate the movement, giving Chat and Ladybug the few seconds they needed to scramble towards the doorway. A shout echoed behind them, but they didn’t look back. Pounding adrenaline carried them up the stairs and through the doorway.
“The fan! Get to the fan!” Ladybug called.
They sprinted towards it and leapt behind it, spinning it around just in time to aim it at the geyser of butterflies that burst from the roof entry. The stream scattered in the wind, some blown into the sky, others against the wall, and still others back into the doorway.
But while the air could force away the butterflies, it failed against the man.
“Cowering behind a fan?” Hawkmoth said, stepping out onto the roof, tails whipped back in the wind. “Why do you insist on running away?”
He surged forward, ethereal wings pumping against the air, and swung at the fan with his baton. Chat and Ladybug didn’t need words—they simply acted. Chat took hold of the fan and jerked it backwards, out of the baton’s path. As it whiffed through the air, Ladybug flung her yo-yo outwards, spinning it around the shaft. She yanked, hard, intending to pull it back to her, but Hawkmoth was ready. He instantly shifted his attention to keeping his hold, which he did, with difficulty. With distraction.
“Chat! Now!” Ladybug yelled.
Chat surged forward, reaching again for Hawkmoth’s neck, but the distraction had not been enough. The instant Hawkmoth heard Ladybug’s voice, he leapt backwards, freeing his baton from her yo-yo and striking out in one fluid motion. He caught Chat in the knees, sweeping his feet out from under him and sending him sprawling onto the roof. Chat reacted as fast as his cat-like reflexes would allow, flipping over and scrambling backwards, away from Hawkmoth and his glowing baton.
“Uh, got a plan B, m’lady?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the weapon.
There was no response.
He glanced behind him and saw Ladybug lying on the roof, butterflies settling on her motionless body. The evil bugs must have managed to fly behind the fan and catch her off-guard while she focused on Hawkmoth. Chat felt a spike of real fear as he turned to face Hawkmoth again, alone.
“Well, well,” Hawkmoth said, lowering himself to the ground. His heels clicked against the stone of the roof as he took several slow steps forward, baton extended towards Chat’s chest. “Looks like she’ll be giving up soon enough. How about you? Do you need another reminder? Do you still not understand?”
He scrambled farther backwards and felt his back hit the fan. Butterflies swarmed on either side. He was trapped. He knew he should look around for an escape, another strategy, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the tip of the baton. It seethed with black and purple, glowing, undulating. Echoes of memories gripped his heart like chains of ice.
“No… please…”
“Don’t run away from this,” Hawkmoth said. He was still moving forward, steps inexorably slow. “You dare think I ever had any escape? This is my reality.”
“No…” Chat tore his eyes from the baton at last, scouring the roof for some means of escape, but saw none. He tried to push the fan backwards, but it bumped up against Ladybug’s prone form. Any more motion would tip it completely, and he would be finished.
Hawkmoth was going to win.
His father was going to destroy him.
He looked up, one last time, and saw Hawkmoth’s eyes, deep and black, narrowed now, triumphant.
No.
Those were not his father’s eyes. He knew his father’s eyes—cold, steely blue, shot through with storm clouds when he was angry. These black orbs were alien. Monstrous. This was not his father.
Father, what have you done to yourself?
This was not his father. But maybe his father was in there somewhere.
“Father!” Chat called out, renewed urgency in his voice. “Father, I know you can hear me! Stop!”
The baton stalled. Hesitated. Hawkmoth’s eyebrows knit together, mouth quirking into a frown.
“Father, you don’t want to do this!” Chat continued, desperate now. “You don’t want to hurt me! I know that! You want to protect me—you want what’s best for me! You want our family back!”
Hawkmoth’s frown deepened. The arm holding the baton lowered slightly, though the tip was still inches from Chat’s chest.
Chat felt tears in his eyes. “Father, you love—”
Ladybug’s world was dark. Then the darkness began to solidify around her, dividing itself into shapes. Stone walls. A bright, blue sky. Her best friend, standing at the other end of the alley, staring. A crushing realization that her life as she knew it had passed.
Then the scene was swept away like smeared paint. Now she was at her computer, its bluish light giving everything in her dark room an alien tinge. She saw the video on the screen before her. Its title seemed to expand, to fill her whole world. Her life was over. It was her fault.
The computer’s light dimmed, grew smaller. Now it was her phone, held with trembling hands in front of her face, its tinny speakers booming with the incriminating words that would make the world turn against her. The string of sound wormed its way into her ears and snaked through her mind, expanding, stifling, suffocating.
Valid questions… is a middle schooler really fit… really fit… really fit…
She was not. They were right. It was her fault. Her fault. It would not be okay.
She could feel herself shrinking, the words paralyzing her with fear and doubt and guilt. She had a dim awareness of some need to move, to do something, but what? She didn’t know. She should just give up. What was she doing?
She closed her eyes, ready to surrender to the darkness, when she heard a familiar voice. It was yelling something. She couldn’t tell what. Suddenly it was very important that she know. She strained her ears, but it was like she was underwater, all sounds numbed, distorted. But she knew that voice. She remembered words it had said. Important words. What had it said?
It was coming back in pieces. A hand on her shoulder. A flash of bright green eyes, familiar, comforting. But what had he said?
Finally the words broke through, ringing clearly in her mind.
“You aren’t alone, Marinette. And we can deal with this, together.”
In a flash, the memories came back to her. Chat. Alya. Nino. Her parents. Her friends. People who didn’t even know her. She wasn’t alone. They supported her. Trusted her. And now, they were relying on her.
Her eyes snapped open. She was lying on the rooftop, cheek pressed against the cold stone. She could see Hawkmoth from behind the fan, but his eyes weren’t on her. They were on something else, something cowering before him, something that was still speaking frantically.
“Father, you love—” it said.
Chat.
Butterflies fluttered in all directions as she pushed herself to her knees, readied her yo-yo, and threw.
You love me—that’s what he had been about to say. He knew it was true. At least, he hoped it was. And if anything could stop Hawkmoth, could awaken what was left of his father inside him, that was it. But he never got the chance to find out.
Ladybug’s yo-yo streaked through the air and collided with the exposed brooch at Hawkmoth’s neck, knocking it to the roof. Chat froze for a moment, blinking. Ladybug’s shout brought him back to full awareness.
“The brooch! Now!”
Chat lunged forward. Beside him, Hawkmoth was moving too, roused by Ladybug’s shout. His arm stretched towards his goal, fingers taught, reaching…
Hawkmoth’s reach was longer, but Chat was faster. His leather-clad hand closed around the stone.
“Cataclysm!” he yelled. The brooch crumbled to dust in his fingers.
A single butterfly flitted out from the pile of dust, winding its way through the air, towards its kin. Before it could lose itself in the swarm, Ladybug’s yo-yo appeared and snagged it from the air. Moments later, it reappeared, pure and white.
The cloud of butterflies froze, bubbling over with the same darkness that had claimed them before. Now, it released them, and they scattered with a flash of bright, white wings.
Chat heard the same bubbling sound beside him, too close for butterflies. He turned and saw his father, Gabriel Agreste, hunched over on the roof, motionless.
His first instinct was to scramble backwards, to put some distance between them. The moment it occurred to him, he was ashamed of it. This man was his father. He hadn’t been in his right mind when he attacked them. He had never wanted to hurt his son.
But he had in the end, hadn’t he?
Gabriel groaned and pushed himself up, looking around with a dazed expression on his face. He saw Chat and started backwards, prepared to fight.
“It’s over, father,” Chat said flatly. He released his transformation. Plagg spiraled into his hand, too exhausted even to speak. “You’ve lost.”
Gabriel did not relax. His eyes as they scanned the rooftop, confirming the scene for himself. Adrien allowed himself a quick glance and saw Ladybug pick up the fan and toss it into the air, sending tendrils of ladybugs into the night, undoing all the damage they had caused. He turned his gaze back to his father and watched as he reached a hand to his own collar, searching for the brooch that must have become as familiar to him as Adrien’s ring was to him now. Only when he realized it was gone did Gabriel finally sink back, his face twisting in anger.
But when he spoke, his voice was soft, not angry.
“What have I done?” he whispered.
Then Adrien realized—it wasn’t anger. It was pain.
“I thought I could get her back,” Gabriel breathed. His voice was hoarse. “I thought, if I only had the power, I could fix this. Fix everything. But now, what do I have?” His mouth twitched into a pained smile, tears leaking out around the corners of his eyes. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Adrien felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. Part of him screamed that this man was everything he had ever fought against—that he had kidnapped and later attacked his own son, that he had willingly akumatized himself, that he had endangered all of Paris multiple times. But another part of him, the part that sobbed into Ladybug’s shoulders and melted at the words “I’m here,” saw a man who was incredibly lonely. A man who needed love.
Finally, he spoke.
“You don’t have nothing,” he said.
Gabriel looked up, surprised, as if he had forgotten about Adrien’s presence.
“Oh?” he said.
“I’m definitely angry,” Adrien continued, heart pounding. “I’m angry at you—about what you did, and how you acted, and… and a lot of things. But.” He paused, steeling himself. “But you’re still my father. We’re still family. I want to work this out. Not right now. I don’t think I can talk right now. But…” His voice trailed off, leaving him breathless and flushed.
Gabriel’s expression was unreadable. “You… you want to talk?”
Adrien nodded. “You said I didn’t understand. I want to try to. I want to be there for you.”
The silence stretched for a moment. Gabriel was looking at him with an odd mixture of sadness and pride.
“I didn’t realize you had become so mature,” he said at last.
Then the sound of police helicopters filled the air, and the time for words was past.
Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.
A fresh gust of wind swept across the top of the Arc de Triomphe. Chat Noir barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the figure in front of him, disbelieving.
“Father?” he whispered. The word was an accusation, a challenge.
Hawkmoth took a step back. His swaggering arrogance was gone, his condescending smirk replaced with a look of mixed horror and disbelief.
He did not deny it.
“No,” Chat said, gritting his teeth. “You’re not my father.”
Chat knew his father. He knew that he was cold, severe, and distant. But he also knew that, though he may not show it, he cared for people. He cared for his son. He was harsh, but he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t Hawkmoth.
Still Hawkmoth said nothing.
Chat snarled.
“I said, you’re not my father!” he shouted. “Say you’re not my father!”
Hawkmoth’s face twisted. For an instant, he looked like he had been stabbed. Then the expression was gone, replaced with a mask of calm. He took a deep breath and planted his feet on the stones.
“Adrien, calm down,” he said. “I can explain.”
The sound of his name on Hawkmoth’s tongue made him want to vomit. He could hear it now. It was his father’s voice. He swallowed bile.
“Explain?” he spat. “You kidnapped me!”
“Yes, but listen—”
“No! I will not!” Chat screamed. “My father wouldn’t kidnap people! He wouldn’t attack people!”
Chat felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over to see Ladybug, eyes fixed on Hawkmoth. At first he thought she was trying to calm him down, but then he noticed that her hand was quivering with suppressed rage. He looked back to Hawkmoth, renewed fury in his eyes.
Hawkmoth took a deep breath. “Adrien,” he said, and Chat shivered again. “You don’t understand. I did it for you.”
Chat laughed humorlessly. “Sure, for me! Of course! How could I not see!”
Anger flashed behind Hawkmoth’s eyes. “I did it for our family,” he said harshly.
“Right! Because attacking your son definitely helped our family!”
“I didn’t know you were—”
“Would it have mattered?” Chat interrupted. “You did kidnap me after all—”
“Adrien, don’t you want your mother back?” Hawkmoth snapped.
Chat stiffened. Ladybug’s hand tightened on his shoulder. An image of his mother flashed in his mind, her green eyes shining, her smile bright like sunshine.
Then it faded.
“Mom’s gone,” he said stiffly. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Hawkmoth shook his head. “It’s everything. Don’t you see? I can get her back. With both miraculouses, I would have the power to find her. We could be a family again.”
Chat opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His mother. His family. They could go back to the way things were before, when his father was warm, when his house was happy…
Then he stopped.
“Why attack everyone, then?” he asked. “Why play the villain?”
Hawkmoth frowned. “I had to draw out the Ladybug and Chat Noir miraculouses. Without a force to fight against, they could have stayed dormant for centuries.”
Become evil to draw out the good. Chat saw the logic in it—the cold, calculating logic.
He saw his father.
“So you became that force,” he said slowly. “You became the villain.”
Hawkmoth saw his expression and his frown deepened. “Sometimes a sacrifice is necessary to achieve the greater good.”
“And you were willing to sacrifice all of Paris?” Chat said in disbelief.
“I was willing to do what I had to do,” Hawkmoth said shortly.
“To capture your son?”
“I would never have hurt—”
“It doesn’t matter!” Chat said. “Father, this isn’t right! You have to stop this!”
Hawkmoth pulled himself up to his full height. “Adrien. You have no idea what I’ve already sacrificed. I cannot, and will not, stop now. Give me your miraculous. You will thank me for it. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” Chat scoffed. “Trust you?! Why would I do that?!”
“I am your father,” Hawkmoth said simply, as if that was enough. “I know what’s best for you.”
Chat felt tears starting in his eyes. He shook his head as if to shake them away. “You’re Hawkmoth,” he said. “If you go through with this, you may get her back, but you won’t have me.”
There was a breath of a pause.
“What?” Hawkmoth said at last, his voice low.
“I said, you won’t have me!” Chat shouted. He felt his anger bubbling. “You can’t do this! I won’t stand for it!”
Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“You must have forgotten,” he said.
Chat narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“You must not remember what it was like, losing her,” he said, a bit louder. “Do you know what it did to me?”
“I—” Chat started, then faltered. He did remember. He remembered that feeling in the pit of his stomach, the guilt, the pain, the pushing it all down, the getting used to it. He remembered his father’s face, the creeping coldness. He never knew how his father had felt. His father hadn’t spoken of it, hadn’t showed it. Even in those moments that made Adrien break down in tears, those moments when her absence was so clearly and painfully there, his father had remained stoic. Impassive. Controlled.
Now that cold façade was gone. Now his shoulders were tense, shaking, his muscles taught, his face contorted.
“It tore me apart,” he said, teeth clenched. “She was the center of my world—and then she was gone. Just like that.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Of course I understand,” Chat said, swallowing past the rising lump in his throat. “She was my mother. But that still doesn’t justify this. You have to stop. Father…”
“She was my wife!” Hawkmoth snapped, suddenly angry. “You don’t… you can’t…” He looked from Chat to Ladybug, his eyes blazing with fury. “You both think me evil,” he snarled. “You think nothing justifies this. But I can show you. I can show you my loss. Then you will understand. Then you will have no choice but to understand.”
He held out his hand. One of the butterflies landed in it, wings fluttering.
“And when you understand, you won’t fight anymore.”
Hawkmoth closed his other hand over the butterfly. Darkness gathered around his fingers, rushing into them. When he lifted his hand, the butterfly’s wings were black, shot through with glimmering purple.
Chat inhaled sharply. An akuma? But who…
The butterfly fluttered out of his palm, into the air. It flew up to Hawkmoth’s face, wings brushing against his face. Then it plunged down and struck the brooch at his throat with a shower of darkness.
Chat felt his heart drop.
“Oh, no,” Ladybug breathed. Her hand was tight on Chat’s shoulder. “No… Chat, we have to do something…”
But it was too late.
A glowing purple mask appeared over Hawkmoth’s eyes, superimposed over his own.
They didn’t hear what he said. They only saw the darkness bubble out from his throat, engulfing his frame and extending to the butterflies around him. Then the bubbles faded, and they saw.
It was still Hawkmoth, but not like they had ever seen him before. His brooch was black, polluted—deep purple threads writhed around its edges, as if something inside was struggling, fighting. His ordinary suit was gone, replaced with a deep purple vest under a shimmering black tailcoat. The lapels of the coat extended upwards, over his shoulders, brushing the edges of two glowing purple wings hovering over his back, lifting him off the ground. Those upper wings were complimented by the tails of the coat, which widened and tapered and curled like a butterfly’s. His cane was once more in his hands. It glinted with energy, a crisscrossing pattern of glowing violet lines running across its length. Chat tightened his grip on his staff, preparing to fight.
Then Chat caught sight of Hawkmoth’s eyes and froze. All whiteness was gone, leaving glinting, pitch-black orbs. They should have seemed inhuman—cold, emotionless, like twin marbles on a life-sized doll—but they did not. They seemed angry. They seemed pained. He forced himself to look away, to focus on the butterflies that were beginning to circle agitatedly.
Chat felt Ladybug give his shoulder a squeeze and released him. He looked over. She was gripping her yo-yo tightly, her eyes narrowed at Hawkmoth.
“Chat,” she said quickly. “Adrien. I know he’s your father. But we need to take him down.”
Chat felt his heart beating faster. He nodded. “I know.”
“We don’t have to hurt him,” she added. “Just beat him. Like we’ve beaten every akuma before.”
Chat closed his eyes and exhaled. “Right,” he said. “Just like always.”
And then the battle began.
The butterflies flew at them like bullets, speeding through the air. The both dodged out of the way, Ladybug to the left and Chat to the right, though they had no idea what the butterflies would even do.
Hawkmoth snarled. “Nimble, I see. Well, let’s see you dodge this!”
The butterflies scattered, filling the air, blocking their view of each other and of Hawkmoth. Chat swung his baton at them wildly, but for each one he struck down, there were another two to take its place. In moments, they had overwhelmed him, landing on his legs, his arms, his chest. Once landed they simply sat there, their wings slowly opening and closing. Chat tried to brush them off, but every time he did they simply fluttered back.
“Ladybug?” he called out. “Ladybug, where are you? What’s going on?”
Then a butterfly brushed against his face. When it touched his bare skin, it didn’t land.
It melted into him.
It felt as if his cheek had been struck with cold water. The place where the butterfly had touched him tingled, the feeling spreading outwards in ripples across his body. The edges of his vision began to darken.
“Ladybug?” he called out again, more urgently this time. “Ladybug!”
But there was no answer.
Then he was not on the roof anymore. He was in his room.
He looked around. It was a nice day. The sun was streaming in through the windows, one of which was cracked open to let in a slight breeze. Everything was neat and in order.
His chest felt strangely tight. He raised a hand to it. Through the soft fabric of his t-shirt he could feel his heart racing. Why was his heart racing?
He walked to his couch and sat down. The cushion compressed under his weight.
Time passed. The wind ruffled his hair. His heart did not calm.
Then he heard a knock at his door and his stomach dropped. Yes. Yes, of course. The door. The knock at the door.
He rose and went to answer it.
When he touched the handle, he felt a wave of dread wash over him, so intense it filled his lungs. He forced himself to breathe and turned the knob.
Behind the door was Nathalie, holding her clipboard tightly to her chest, almost like a shield. Her eyes were red.
“Adrien,” she said, her voice carefully controlled. “Please sit down. I have something to tell you.”
Another wave cascaded over him. He felt as if his knees were buckling, collapsing, yet his body stayed upright, unmoved. He made his way over to the couch and sat down. Nathalie followed. She did not sit.
“Adrien, it’s… it’s your mother,” she said. “She’s gone.”
If it had been waves that were striking him before, this was a tsunami. Dread and fear and loss pounded down on him, crushing him, breaking him. His throat constricted. He couldn’t speak. He realized dimly within the torrent that he knew this scene—he had lived these moments. But not like this. It was as if every emotion he had experienced were removed, multiplied, and thrown back at him with a vengeance. He didn’t want to breathe. He didn’t want to feel. He just wanted to curl up and break, to sob until the world passed away, until everything disappeared.
Then he felt something grab his wrist.
He looked down at his arm, forcing his eyes to focus. There was nothing there. But he definitely felt it—something tugging, grabbing at his fingers. He tried to twist away and felt the grip tighten. His room began to shimmer and fade, sliding between a sunny afternoon and a dark roof.
Then everything snapped back into place.
He was on his knees on the stone roof. The butterflies had retreated and were now formed a fluttering dome around him, shutting out the moonlight. In what little light was left, Chat saw Hawkmoth, silhouetted against the churning mass of black and purple, gripping his wrist, reaching for his ring.
Chat didn’t think. He just yelled.
“Cataclysm!”
Dark power rushed into his hand. Hawkmoth snarled and dropped the hand, stepping back, letting the butterflies surge back in. This time, they didn’t hesitate. They flew straight for Chat’s face. Chat swiped wildly at them with his glowing claw and they dropped to the ground in a shower of dust. Then he turned tail and sprinted across the roof on all fours, as far away from Hawkmoth as he could manage.
“Ladybug!” Chat cried wildly. “Don’t let them touch your skin!”
“Good… to know!” came a voice from somewhere to his left.
Chat felt his heart lift. She was okay. He ran towards the source of her voice, calling her name, scanning the thick storm of butterflies for signs of human life. “Ladybug! Where are you?”
“I… ugh! Hang on!” she said. There was a brief pause. Then a cry of, “Lucky Charm!” and a flash of pink light. Something large and boxy fell out of the sky.
There was a moment’s breath, then a whoosh of air from somewhere in front of him. He shielded his face as butterflies were blown past, caught up in the wind. When they had passed, he looked up.
There was Ladybug, crouching behind a large, red, black-spotted fan. In the clear space in front of the fan stood Hawkmoth, exposed, holding an arm up against the wind.
“Chat, now!” Ladybug yelled. “His brooch!”
Chat didn’t hesitate. He dove forward, arm outstretched, reaching for Hawkmoth’s throat.
Time slowed. Chat’s vision narrowed. He saw Hawkmoth raise his arm, exposing the brooch at his neck. Chat stretched his fingers forward. He was inches away. Centimeters.
Then he felt something tap his chest and he looked down. There was Hawkmoth’s cane, bubbling with blackness, sinking into his chest.
The roof was gone. He was back in his room. It was dark. He heard simple words, echoing, chasing each other’s tails. Gone. Your mother—she’s gone. Gone. They writhed around him, crescendoing and decrescendoing like storm-tossed waves, permeating his mind, his core, drowning him, filling his lungs with everything but air. Gone. Gone.
Then the world snapped back and he was on his stomach on the roof, but the words would not fade. Gone. Gone. She’s gone.
He was dimly aware of polished shoes hovering slightly off the ground in front of him. He raised his head and saw Hawkmoth, suspended in the air by the glowing purple wings on his back.
He looked down at him and smiled.
“You see, Adrien?” he said. “You see now what I suffered? Don’t you think I deserve a chance to end it? To fix it?”
Chat wanted to say that he didn’t, that this wasn’t right. He had said that before, hadn’t he? He must have had a good reason. But his head was filled with echoes and his lungs were filled with sorrow and he couldn’t breathe. Why had he tried to fight? Wasn’t it right to try to end this?
“That’s it,” Hawkmoth said. His smile widened. “Just give me your ring and this can all be over.”
Chat rolled onto his back and held his hand in front of his face. He saw his ring there, black surface glinting in the purple light of Hawkmoth’s wings. As he watched, one of the segments blinked and went dark.
Just take it off, a small voice whispered. It’s the right thing to do.
He reached up his other hand and took hold of the ring.
Then something twisted around his ankle. He looked down, but before he had a chance to see what was going on, he was yanked backwards, away from Hawkmoth, away from his spiraling thoughts.
Towards Ladybug.
She was reeling him in, her yo-yo wrapped around his ankle. When she had gotten him behind the fan, she turned back to Hawkmoth, scooping something off of the ground. Dust? Ashes?
Oh wait. It was butterfly dust. From his Cataclysm attack.
What was she going to do with that?
“How do you like a smokescreen, Butterfly?” she cried, and hurled the dust into the fan.
A rapidly expanding cloud billowed into the air, shielding them from view. Before he had time to think, Ladybug grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the fan, towards a door in the roof’s large central structure. Chat tried to do more than be dragged along, but his legs were like jelly beneath him.
“It’s bees… you know,” he panted as Ladybug kicked the door down and pulled him inside.
“What?”
He put a hand on the wall, steadying himself. “Bees… they don’t like smoke. Not butterflies.”
Ladybug closed the door and turned back to him, mouth open. “We’re running for our lives and you want to correct my one-liners?”
Chat smiled wanly and shrugged. “Priorities.”
Ladybug rolled her eyes, but she was smiling back. “Come on, let’s go. We only have a few minutes before Hawkmoth realizes where we’ve gone.”
There was a flight of stairs behind the door. Ladybug supported Chat as they hurried down them, as quietly as their adrenaline would allow. Finally, they came to a small gift shop and a restroom that looked almost abandoned. The gift shop was locked, but Ladybug’s foot was a pretty convincing key. They ducked inside and closed the door behind them as best they could.
“We need to recharge our kwamis,” Ladybug said, releasing her transformation and catching Tikki in the hand that wasn’t currently holding up Chat. “Tikki, there may not be any cookies, but maybe something…?”
Tikki nodded and flew away to search the shop, wavering in the air. Chat released his transformation as well to allow Plagg to do the same, but as soon as he did, his knees gave way and he sagged against Marinette’s shoulder. She let out a small, startled sound and helped him sink to the floor.
“Adrien, are you alright? What did he do to you?” she said, her hands on his shoulders.
“I’m… fine,” he said. “I just…” He took a deep breath.
“What did he do?” Marinette asked again. Her voice was gentle, but firm.
By her tone, Adrien could tell that he would get away with nothing less than the absolute truth. And why should he try to hide anything? She needed to know what Hawkmoth was capable of. But a small part of him wanted to block out the last few moments on the roof, as if ignoring them could make the pain of them go away.
It couldn’t, of course. But oh, how he wished it would.
“He made me relive my memories,” Adrien said at last, forcing the words out. “The ones from that day when I learned that my mother was…” A wave of tears sprung unexpectedly to his eyes and he choked on the words. Marinette started forward in alarm, concern etched in her features. Adrien hid his face in his arm and turned away.
“S-sorry,” he said. “I…”
“No.” The intensity of her voice made him jump. He lowered his arm and turned back to her, teary eyes meeting her fiery ones. “Don’t you dare apologize for feeling.”
Adrien took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded.
“Right,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Sorry.”
“No—” Marinette started, then gave up with a shake of her head. “Never mind.” She let him collect himself for a few seconds, but time was short. Before long, she prompted him again.
“So, he made you relive your memories?”
Adrien nodded. “Right. Only the emotions were stronger. So they sort of incapacitate you and…” His voice trailed off.
“And make you want to give up your Miraculous,” Marinette finished for him, wincing. “Ouch. That’s pretty terrible.”
Adrien nodded.
“But they can’t get through clothes, right?” Marinette said. Her eyes were lighting up the way they did whenever she was planning something. “And there’s not much of that exposed when we’re transformed. So if we cover up our faces with something and avoid that cane of his…”
Adrien felt his heart crawling into his throat as Marinette rattled on. He couldn’t go back there. He couldn’t face his father and his feelings about his mother and whatever else they might throw at him. He was too tired. He was too weak.
“Marinette,” he said at last, catching on to her arm. She stopped mid-sentence and looked up at him, confused. “I can’t go up there again.”
A flurry of emotions passed over Marinette’s face, too fast to read. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. “I know it’s hard, Adrien,” she said. “I know it’s your father and I know these are difficult memories. But we have to beat him.” She put her hand over his and squeezed. “We have to stop this now.”
Adrien held her eyes for a moment, then looked away, shaking his head. “No. I can’t,” he said, trying to keep the defeat out of his voice and failing miserably. “You can do it by yourself. I know you can.”
Marinette squeezed his hand again and he looked back at her. He was startled to see tears in her eyes.
“Come on, chaton,” she said, laughing almost, like it was a choice between that or crying. “Please. I need you.”
Adrien felt his own tears starting again. “No you don’t, Marinette.”
Marinette shook her head vehemently, setting her mouth in a stubborn line. “Nope,” she said. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. I definitely need you, and you can definitely do this.”
“I can’t!” Adrien said, pleading now. He just wanted to be left alone, to go home and forget about all of this.
But there was nothing waiting for him at home, he realized. No father to comfort him, no mother to hold him up. No family at all. Just him. Alone.
A sob forced its way through his throat and before he knew it, he was hunched over, shuddering with tears.
“Oh, Adrien,” he heard Marinette say softly. “Come on. Come here.”
He felt Marinette’s arms wrap around his shoulders, lifting him up, pulling him into a hug. He latched on to her like a life raft, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.
“Shhh,” she said, her voice soft, tender. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Adrien raised his chin and looked over at her.
“What?” he asked hoarsely.
Marinette smiled. “I said, I’m here.”
I’m here.
The words echoed in his mind, but not like the waves of earlier. These were like distant, chiming bells, pure and sweet. Adrien felt a beam of warmth brush his heart.
At home, he might be alone. But here, he was with someone he loved.
He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath.
I need you, she had said.
She was right, of course. But it wasn’t just that she needed him—they needed each other. Neither of them was strong enough to do this alone, but they could be each other’s strength, each other’s champions, each other’s partners, until they won the fight or…
“Or died trying” were the words that tried to enter his head, but he forced them out. No one was dying today. They would win. They would end this.
Adrien took another deep breath, steadying himself.
Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.
“What do you want?” Marinette’s voice was cold, edged with steel. The whole room heard it. Their jubilation, already fading, was swept away, replaced with confusion and fear. Whispers passed from ear to ear—Hawkmoth? It’s Hawkmoth? Marinette gripped the phone tighter.
“I have someone I believe is important to you,” Hawkmoth said lazily. “Perhaps an exchange is in order?”
An exchange. Her Miraculous.
Marinette swallowed, choked on her own spit, and hacked loudly into the receiver.
She couldn’t. But then again, how could she not? It was Adrien!
Her stomach twisted guiltily for a moment at the thought of giving up the fight against evil for the sake of a crush before she recalled herself. It wasn’t just a crush. It was her partner. Sure, he could take care of himself, she couldn’t abandon him. She wouldn’t.
But she wasn’t about to give up her Miraculous, either.
There had to be another way.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
She would play this game.
“An exchange, huh?” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “What do you propose?”
“Don’t insult your intelligence, Miss Marinette,” Hawkmoth scoffed, “You get your friend, and I get your Miraculous. No one gets hurt.”
The way he said “friend” caught Marinette off-guard. Wouldn’t he have just said “partner,” if he had Chat Noir?
Maybe it wasn’t Chat Noir.
She had assumed Hawkmoth captured Adrien while he was in superhero form, but what if he hadn’t? Who was she rescuing?
She took a breath to steady herself.
Play dumb, get information. Figure this out.
“What do you want me to do?” she said.
She could almost hear Hawkmoth smiling.
“I will send you an address sometime in the next 24 hours. Meet me there, alone, and your friend will not be hurt.”
His voice had a final sort of ring to it, like he was about to hang up and leave Marinette answerless. Marinette’s composure slipped.
“Wait!” she burst out.
“Yes?” Hawkmoth said. He sounded amused, dang it.
“C-can I…” She took a breath. “I need to speak to the hostage, to make sure he isn’t injured.”
“Hmm,” Hawkmoth mused, weighing options. Then he spoke. “Fifteen seconds. That is all.”
Marinette heard a slight shuffle, then a familiar, “Hello?”
“Adrien!” Marinette said. “What happened? Are you okay? What—”
“It’s fine, Marinette, I’m fine,” Adrien said quickly. “Just do what he says. I.. um… I tore a bit of a hole in my jeans, but I’m not hurt, I swear.”
“You what? Adrien!”
But the line was silent.
Marinette stood stock still, phone still pressed to her ear. Alya was tugging at her sleeve. Her dad’s arms were on her shoulders, holding her steady, but she barely noticed.
Why on Earth would Adrien have wasted the only 15 seconds they had to talk telling her about his jeans? Of all the pointless, useless things…
Then she realized—jeans. He was wearing jeans. He was telling her he has been captured as Adrien.
And if Hawkmoth didn’t know…
A plan began to gel in Marinette’s mind, one she felt sure was on Adrien’s mind as well. Play the game at first, then transform, catch him off guard…
The tables would be turned. They could end this. They could win this.
She blinked and the world came back to her all at once, in a clamor—dozens of voices were asking what was going on, the words “hostage” and “Adrien” thrown from every corner of the room.
“Marinette,” Nino was saying desperately. “What’s going on? Where’s Adrien?”
Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her mind settle. When she her eyes once more, they were bright and determined. She turned to Nino.
“Hawkmoth has him,” she said. “But we’re going to get him back.”
Adrien didn’t particularly like being tied up.
It wasn’t that he was in a particularly uncomfortable position. Hawkmoth had been surprisingly accommodating, for a supervillain. His hands were tied in front of him, and his feet attached firmly but not too tightly together. It was just that the bonds chafed against his wrists when he moved, and the stone floor warehouse-like building he had woken up in was beginning to make his butt cold.
Oh, and also, he was a prisoner.
Not super fond of that bit.
He watched as Hawkmoth paced back and forth across the floor, checking a small device in his hand with something that almost looked like anxiety. Hatred and anger flared in his chest. He could not believe that this disgusting man had him in his power.
Disgusting? Adrien wondered. Yes, it was not too strong a word. He was the kind of man who took advantage of people at their lowest, their most vulnerable. The kind who craved power above all else. He cared nothing for the safety of others, for their happiness, for their lives.
He was everything Adrien fought against.
Adrien checked himself. He needed to keep his anger controlled, low-burning, on reserve for when he needed it most.
Because they would turn the tables on him.
They would attack.
Hawkmoth had no idea what he’d just done. He hadn’t captured a hostage, he’d trapped a hero, and that hero was going to fight.
Adrien had thought of transforming. He’d thought of it as soon as he saw Hawkmoth burst in through his door. But he’d hesitated. If he transformed in front of Hawkmoth, he would be revealing his identity to his nemesis. If he lost that fight, he’d lose his Miraculous. Where would that put Ladybug?
Then, the butterflies swarmed him. In that haze of brightness someone pressed a damp cloth to his face and the world faded into darkness.
Now, with his arms and legs tied together and no exit in sight, transformation seemed more like handing himself over than fighting back. Better to wait. Adrien’s lips quirked into a smile. His lady was coming. And if his message had gotten through—which he was sure it had—she would be armed with the knowledge that Hawkmoth may be expecting one angry hero, but certainly not two. When she arrived, Hawkmoth would see how dangerous an angry Ladybug and her Cat could be.
Marinette hadn’t put down her phone all day.
She held it by her side as she discussed plans with the mayor, as they debated preemptive measures, as Sabrina’s dad, the chief of police, rushed to organize his squad to check on the Agreste mansion. She clutched it tightly when they gave their report: Adrien’s bodyguard and Nathalie were found inside; the security system had been triggered, but soon lifted; there was no evidence regarding the location of either Adrien or Gabriel. She tapped it distractedly as she discussed further plans in hushed, private rooms, rooms where the secret of Adrien’s identity, so central to her plan, would remain at least partially a secret, at least for now. She kept it on her leg as they ate dinner in a café near City Hall, barely paying attention to the scant conversations going on around her, resisting the urge to check it again. It would buzz when the message came. It would buzz when the message came.
She flipped it over and opened the screen.
Nothing.
“Marinette, you need to rest,” her mother said when they had at last returned home, accompanied by Alya and Nino. “You’ll be better prepared if you sleep a little.”
Marinette shook her head. “I’m not about to miss this, mom.”
“We’ll take turns watching,” Alya offered. “Please, Marinette, let us help. We can’t do anything else.”
Marinette hesitated, then consented. Everyone looked relieved, and ushered her up to bed.
To her credit, she did try to sleep. But sleeping when your partner is probably tied up somewhere, facing who knows what sort of terrors, is not easy. She wanted movement. She wanted action.
Stupid Hawkmoth and his stupid mind games. She would kick his butt when she found him.
She had just begun to doze off when there was a knock on her trap door. Sabine poked her head up.
“Marinette?” she said. “You have a message.”
Marinette was up, through the trap door, and down the stairs in a matter of seconds, her stomach queasy and her heart in her throat. She tore into the kitchen and snatched her phone from the counter.
The message was curt. Precise.
Arc de Triomphe. Midnight. Remember: alone.
Marinette didn’t waste any time.
The sky was dark, edged with shadows of clouds. Golden lights shone on the face of the Arc de Triomphe, catching its edges and throwing shadows upward. Ordinarily, it would have been gorgeous, but now it only seemed ominous.
The mayor’s limousine pulled up to the base of the arc, then stopped. Ladybug stepped out, slammed the door, and watched as it drove away. All according to plan, but it made her shiver nonetheless. By all appearances, she was completely alone. She knew that she was not—her parents and the mayor would never have allowed that, and anyway, she wouldn’t have wanted it. But the police were good at their job, and she saw no sign of them.
She took a deep breath.
Stick to the plan.
“I’m here, Hawkmoth!” she called out. “Come out where I can see you!”
There was no response. Ladybug suppressed the urge to bite her lip. Her back tingled. She felt watched. She backed against the stone of the arc, taking comfort in its solidity.
“I’m here!” she said again. “I came alone! Now you stick to your end of the bargain!”
Still there was no response. Ladybug almost reached for her phone, but remembered she had left it in the car with the mayor. No place for a phone in a fight. Now she wondered if that had been a bad idea.
Then, a flicker of light off to her right caught her eye and she saw it—a white butterfly, flitting through the shadows of the pillar. As she watched, more and more gathered until there was a swarm of them, staying disturbingly still. It was almost hypnotizing.
Ladybug shook herself. These were Hawkmoth’s butterflies. She pulled out her yo-yo.
“This isn’t the same thing!” she shouted. “Come out where I can see you!”
Nothing happened for a long moment. She watched the butterflies.
The steady stream had nearly stopped. Now there was a mass of butterflies in front of her. Any swipe with her yo-yo disturbed the cloud for a mere instant. Finally, one lazy butterfly that had been flitting in loops around the far pillar flew over to join the group. The instant it entered the swarm, the butterflies jerked into formation, into a face—Hawkmoth.
“Ah, Miss Marinette.” It grinned. “All dressed up, I see.”
Ladybug scowled. “Where’s Adrien?”
The butterfly smile dropped. “You’ll see Adrien when you stick to your end of the deal,” it said.
Ladybug scowled, but her heart thrilled with nerves. “What do you mean? I’m here, alone, right where you wanted me to be. I have my Miraculous.”
“Alone? Are you really?” the face said. “Try again.”
Ladybug stiffened. Could he see through his butterflies? She should have thought of that, dang it. Too late now.
“Fine, I brought people with me,” she admitted. “I’ll tell them to back off if you promise to come out.”
“Hmm,” the face mused. It adopted a look of contemplation for a moment, eyes wandering from pillar to pillar, considering. Then it snapped back to her, brows lowered, mouth set.
“No.”
The butterflies burst apart and flew directly at her. She swung at them, but with every strike they simply parted and reformed without a scratch. In seconds, they were on her, covering her arms, her legs, her face. Then she was rising, borne by a multitude of tiny, supernaturally strong wings. She twisted and struggled, but every time she managed to slip away they caught her before she fell more than a few inches.
This was rather not according to plan.
She heard footsteps—the police, their cover blown, were rushing out to help her. But what could they do against a swarm of butterflies? She tried to find some place to throw her yo-yo, someplace to latch on to and pull herself out, but the butterflies’ shining wings covered her eyes, blinding her. She had no idea where she was, how high she was, how far she had to fall.
Then, they were gone, and Ladybug dropped.
She only fell a few feet before her feet hit cold stone and she tumbled forward, landing on her hands and knees. Bright spots swam in front of her eyes, mixing with the dissipating cloud of butterflies.
The sharp click of a footstep cut through the fluttering of their wings. She looked up.
Hawkmoth stood, smiling down at her. One hand rested lightly on his baton, the other held tightly to the arm of Adrien, who was standing next to him, feet and hands bound together. Adrien was staring at her, eyes wide, but there was no panic there—only anticipation. His shoulders were tight, ready for action. The sight of him was like a breath of air. So what if this wasn’t according to plan? They had never needed the police before anyway—only each other.
Ladybug nodded at him, and he nodded in return. A silent confirmation—both were ready. They could do this.
Hawkmoth took a step forward.
“Well, well,” he smirked. “If it isn’t Ladybug. Fancy seeing you here tonight.”
Ladybug pushed herself to her feet, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.
“Hawkmoth.” She nodded curtly at him, fixing a scowl on her face. “Was that really necessary?”
“Necessary?” Hawkmoth echoed, raising an eyebrow. “The policemen will not interfere now. That was necessary. That was the deal.”
“Right, the deal,” Ladybug said, taking a deep breath. “So, how are we doing this? You give me Adrien, then I…”
Hawkmoth shook his head, smirking. “I’m not a fool, Marinette. Be a good girl and take out those earrings and then we’ll deal.”
Ladybug frowned. “But I’ll be defenseless.”
Hawkmoth tugged on Adrien’s arm, forcing him to take a stumbling step forwards. “Do you want to help him or not?”
Ladybug flicked her eyes to Adrien, then back to Hawkmoth.
Well, it was now or never.
“Fine,” she said at last. She bent her head down, reaching towards her ears, and saw out of the corner of her eye Hawkmoth leaning forward, watching intently. Good. Her fingers brushed against her miraculous. She imagined she could feel the cool metal of the backing even through her gloved hands, steadying her. She took a breath.
“Adrien, NOW!”
Ladybug dropped her hands to her yo-yo and flung it at Hawkmoth. Hawkmoth, despite being caught off guard, managed to bat it aside with his baton, but loosened his grip on Adrien as he did so. Adrien twisted away. There was a wild call of “Claws out!” and Plagg spiraled out of Adrien’s shirt and into his ring in a flash.
And there was Chat Noir, hero of Paris.
He slashed away his bonds with his claws and flipped next to Ladybug, pulling out his baton. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, weapons ready, waiting to see what Hawkmoth would do next.
They had expected one of two things. The first was an attack, an angry scream, and possibly a final battle. The second was a hasty retreat, a promise to return, a swearing of vengeance. They had prepared for both—they were ready for both.
What they had not expected was the clatter of the baton slipping from Hawkmoth’s limp fingers and hitting the roof. They had not prepared for the look in his eyes as he stared at Chat Noir—confusion, pain, incredulity. They were not ready for his soft whisper, barely audible above the night’s wind.
“No,” he said. “No, it can’t be. Not my son. Not my son.”
In which they finally go to the TV station (well most of them).
Also, stuff gets real, guys. Stuff gets real.
Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.
Adrien half-expected a note from his father to be waiting for him when he woke up, but to his dismay, there was nothing. Just the Gorilla, still standing, watching. Had the Gorilla slept at all? Or had he just stood there all night?
The sky outside his windows was a stony grey. It looked like it might rain later. Not that that would make any difference for him, trapped inside as he was. But it might make the walk to the TV station a bit less pleasant for his friends. What did Nadja have planned, anyway? Adrien wished he could be around to find out, but it was pointless now. He was trapped.
He considered not leaving his bed, but decided that would be a bit too melodramatic, even for him. So instead he pushed himself up and started getting himself ready for the day.
“He’s not picking up his phone.”
“Well, he said his dad might not let him out.”
“But couldn’t he just slip away?”
“He said his dad would notice. Remember Christmas?”
“Hmmm…”
“Maybe we should just leave without him?”
Marinette drummed her fingers against her arm as she listened to Alya and Nino go back and forth. She wanted to wait for Adrien, but it was already getting dangerously close to two o’clock. They were probably already going to be late—if they didn’t leave soon, they definitely would be.
She felt large hands on her shoulders and looked up. Her dad was standing behind her, his expression kind.
“I know you wanted your friend to be here, Marinette, but we’re all here to support you. It’s going to be fine.”
Marinette felt a calming wave sweep through her stomach and nodded. With her parents on her side, she felt, if not happy about the whole thing, at least a bit more confident. That didn’t mean she liked the idea of leaving Adrien behind, but her dad was right. She had plenty of support already.
And she didn’t want to be too late.
She sighed.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go.”
The five of them walked in relative silence as they made their way to the TV station. The sky was slate gray. Marinette pulled her coat tighter around her and tried not to think of it as a bad omen.
As they neared the TV station, Marinette thought she could make out a small crowd standing outside of it. She squinted. Why would there be this many people? Then a figure in the middle of the crowd noticed them and started waving them closer.
“Marinette!” she called, and Marinette recognized the voice as Nadja’s. “Glad you could make it!”
Marinette jogged over, followed closely by her friends and her parents. As she did, she noticed more and more faces in the crowd she recognized. The first she noticed was Jagged Stone—Jagged Stone!—smiling at her and giving her a flashy thumbs-up. His photographer fan was standing by his shoulder, not too close, and not taking any pictures, but he, too, smiled when he saw Marinette. Then there was XY, keeping a bit of distance between himself and Jagged, muttering something to someone on the phone. He seemed to be arguing. She just barely caught a few phrases: “it’s a celebrity endorsement!” and “trust me—it’ll be good for the brand.” There were less famous faces there as well, though—Theo the sculptor and Miray the weather girl stood on the edge of the circle, talking in hushed tones. There were a few Parisians that Marinette recognized by sight though not by name. And there were those whose names she knew, well—Rose, Juleka, Ivan, Nathaniel… in fact, almost all of her classmates were there, excepting Chloe. And, of course, Adrien.
Alya seemed to notice this as well, taking the crowd in with one sweep of her eyes.
“What’s this all for?” she said, voicing the words that Marinette had suddenly lost.
Nadja smiled. “We’re giving the mayor a bit of a… presentation,” she said. “I figured he needed to hear, and see, people who feel differently than his precious donors. So I gathered everyone here.”
“Not Chloe though?” said Alya, voice spiked with spite. “Or did she say she couldn’t come?”
“Ah, well,” Nadja said, reddening slightly, “I wasn’t sure contacting Chloe would be the best idea. She is the mayor’s daughter, after all, which complicates her position, and given her rather… tempestuous attitude, and her general behavior towards Marinette—apologies, Marinette, I couldn’t help but notice—I thought it best to simply avoid the issue.”
Marinette nodded. She was not sorry to see that Chloe was not there. In truth, she wasn’t sure how the girl would react—she had been Ladybug’s biggest fan, but she hated Marinette. Marinette wasn’t entirely sure what she would do if she saw Chloe’s hero worship of her shatter with the revelation of her identity. Not that she liked the hero worship, not that she even liked Chloe, but for some reason the thought of that reversal, the thought of the renewed disdain, betrayal even, in her eyes, made Marinette’s stomach queasy.
But Chloe wasn’t here. Her friends were. Her parents were. All these people were, all these people whose very presence proclaimed that they trusted her, that they supported her. She felt her heart, so anxious just moments before, swell dangerously full, a balloon, full up, full to bursting. She wasn’t sure it would hold. It felt fragile.
They trust you, they trust you, you helped them, you did a good job, said a voice in her head.
And she was afraid, because she was on the verge of believing herself. Of believing in herself.
“Marinette?” She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Alya. “You okay?”
Marinette smiled, her heart beating fast. “Yeah,” she said, slightly breathless. “Yeah, definitely.”
She turned to look at Nadja, beaming.
“Thank you,” she said, and she meant it. “I… I can’t believe you’re doing all this for me.”
Nadja shook her head. “Anything I can do to help fix what my… inconsiderate coworker did to you, I’m happy to do. We all are.”
“But…” Marinette frowned. “But that wasn’t your fault. That was his. Wasn’t it?”
Nadia let out a puff of air, her mouth twitching into a smile. “Don’t play that game, sweetheart.”
“What?”
“You know, the Blame Game,” she said, waving a hand. “His fault, my fault, your fault… it never ends. Just take the situation you have and work with it as best you can.”
Marinette stared at Nadja for a second, her mouth slightly open. She felt a bit of a nudging in her purse—no doubt Tikki making her agreement known. Marinette’s thoughts of guilt swirled like dirt kicked up from the bottom of a pond only recently settled. She glanced over at Alya, who was frowning slightly, clearly thinking the same things.
His fault. Alya’s fault. My fault…
Marinette closed her mouth and swallowed.
It didn’t matter?
My fault…
She couldn’t just let that go, could she? How would she ever learn how to do things right if she just let herself forget her guilt?
But Nadja was right. Thinking about it wouldn’t change anything. Doing something would.
She exhaled and looked over at Alya. They exchanged a look, then together, they nodded.
Marinette grinned.
“Right. Let’s do this.”
Adrien looked at the clock that sat next to his bed. 1:57. It was almost time. He flopped down on his bed and squeezed his eyes shut. His guts felt heavy. He wanted to be there with her.
One way or another, he would find a way to support her eventually. Even if it meant going against his father.
The group arrived outside city hall hey arrived outside City Hall at precisely 2:00. Nadja turned to face the crowd.
“Thank you everyone for coming today,” she said. “Your presence alone is valuable, as I’m sure you know. If you feel like you have something specific you’d like to say in Marinette’s favor, you should have a chance. Try to keep it short—I’m not sure how much time we’ll have.”
The crowd filled with nods. Nadja returned a curt bob of her head, then turned and pushed the doors open.
Mayor Bourgeois was waiting for them in the lobby. Well, waiting for Nadja. He didn’t look like he had been expecting them.
“M.. Mrs. Chamack!” he stammered. “What is this? You arranged for an interview…”
“And we are all here to be interviewed,” Nadja said, feet spread, arms crossed. “Please, Mayor Bourgeois, ask us what we think about Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
The Mayor looked at Nadja, then at the crowd, then back to Nadja. He looked torn between anger, fear, and resignation.
Resignation won.
He sighed.
“Well, I can see you aren’t going to be leaving any time soon,” he said. “Up to my office then, if you will, and I will hear what you have to say. Though I doubt I haven’t heard it before…”
He added the last bit in a mutter before turning and leading the way up the stairs and through a set of impressive dark wood doors into his equally impressive office. He sat down behind his desk as the group filed through and filled the room. And they did fill the room—almost completely. Marinette noticed Nathaniel and Theo the sculptor perched on one of the tables, and Rose and Juleka trying their best not to be skewered by the scale model of the city that stood on a small table to the mayor’s right. Nino, Alya, and her parents all stuck close to her, as if to defend her from the Mayor’s gaze. Marinette knew it probably wasn’t necessary, but it made her feel safer anyway. She felt another wave of gratitude for them, for everyone in the room.
Then, when they were all settled in the room, door closed behind them, Nadja spoke.
“It has come to our attention that, upon learning Ladybug’s true identity, several of your supporters made various attempts to convince you to withdraw your official support,” she began. “We are here to convince you that that would be a grave mistake.” The mayor raised an eyebrow. She continued. “Every single person here has been saved by Ladybug—by Miss Dupain-Cheng—at least once, most more than once. We feel that, despite her youth, she has proven herself sufficiently and should be allowed to continue operations with her partner, Chat Noir, as she has done for the past year.”
“Hmm,” the Mayor sighed, unperturbed, glancing over the crowd. “Is Chat Noir here, by the way? You know, there are people clamoring for his identity as well now, fearing that he may be just as… youthful as Miss Ladybug…”
“That is absolutely beside the point,” Nadia said, each word dangerously enunciated. “Together, Ladybug and he have proven themselves more than capable. As I said, they have saved all of the people in this room multiple times. Which, I might add, amounts to saving all of Paris multiple times as well. Their youth should have nothing to do with this.”
The mayor sighed again, rubbing his temples, but didn’t say anything.
Nadja stared down at him, incredulous. She stood stock still for a moment, hands in fists by her side, then turned to the crowd and gestured pointedly at the mayor.
“Anyone care to speak?” she said, face and voice a mystery of emotion.
Jagged Stone stepped forward. Mayor Bourgeoisie looked up in surprise. Apparently he hadn’t noticed him before.
“Allow me,” he said.
Adrien was lying on his bed, half-asleep. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but the combination of stress and boredom was wearing him out. Plus, his bed was pretty dang soft. Perks of being rich, he guessed. He had been trying to think of ways to help Marinette when he had started slipping in and out of consciousness, mind circling around one idea after another but never really sticking on any. The final echoes of those thoughts were still buzzing around in his mind, mixing with fragments of half-formed dreams—run away. Carry her off. Be carried off. Escape. Be free.
Then, with an enormous clang, steel panels slammed shut over the windows.
Adrien jerked upright in the sudden darkness. The security system. Someone had triggered the security system.
“What’s going on?” he demanded of the Gorilla, but the Gorilla looked just as shocked as he was, body tensed for action.
Then there was a buzz from the pager in the Gorilla’s belt. He flipped it open, took half a second to register what it said, then stowed it and, with a nod to Adrien, left the room.
And just like that, Adrien was finally alone.
Plagg zoomed out of hiding, flying towards the steel, phasing in and out.
“Woah ho ho!” he said. “Something’s going on, that’s for sure!”
“Plagg, get back here!” Adrien said, jumping out of bed. “We have to be ready in case something happens!”
Plagg spiraled back lazily. “Oh, come on, what could happen?”
“What could happen?!” Adrien repeated incredulously. “Father only triggers the security system when the house is in serious danger.”
“Yeah, or maybe he just misplaced his designs and he’s convinced someone stole them,” Plagg scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, Adrien, but your old man’s a bit paranoid. I mean, why does he even have all this security in the first place? It’s ridiculous.”
Adrien scowled. “Okay, maybe sometimes he gets a bit… overly concerned. But he wouldn’t trigger this without a reason, I’m sure of it.”
“Reason schmeason,” Plagg said, flying up to Adrien’s face. “The way I see it, this is your chance to esca—”
The door burst open, cutting Plagg short. He flew into Adrien’s shirt as Adrien whirled around to face the entrance.
There was a flurry of butterflies.
From their center stepped a man.
They had been in the office for at least an hour now. Marinette’s heart was full of all of the trust and praise her peers, friends, and fellow Parisians were lavishing on her, and yet it was also still constricted with anxiety. The mayor’s expression was unreadable. Maybe he had really heard all this before, and his mind was already made up. Then again, there was also the possibility that he had still been teetering on the edge, and their words had tipped the scale enough to convince him to rule in her favor. The delicacy of it made Marinette want to hold her breath, just to keep from agitating anything further.
Then Rose finished speaking and stepped back into the crowd, and no one else stepped forward. They had all had their turn.
“Well, if that’s everything…” the mayor started to say, but was cut short by the noise of the door flying open. Marinette whipped her head around just in time to see Chloe burst into the room.
Oh, no.
Marinette braced herself for impact, but Chloe brushed past her, eyes set on her father.
“Daddy, are you really still thinking about this?” she said, slamming her hands down on his desk. “I’ve told you...”
“Now Chloe…”
“No—”
“Yeah, Chloe, beat it!” Alya interjected. “Just because you hate Marinette…”
But Chloe ignored her. Her attention was entirely focused on her father.
“Daddy, I’ve been telling you since yesterday, you’re making a mistake,” she said. “Ladybug is the greatest hero in Paris. She’s saved the city again and again and you want to make her into a criminal? Do you want people to think that being brave and kind is a crime?”
Greatest hero in Paris? Marinette blinked. Had she heard that right?
Mayor Bourgeois waved his hands, trying to quiet her. “Sweetheart, we’ve gone over this,” he said. “Daddy knows some very smart people who think that this wouldn’t be a good—”
“Very rich people, you mean,” Chloe scoffed. “I’m not stupid, Daddy.”
“Well, yes, they are also rich. But Chloe, don’t you see? I’m doing this for you. If I lose this position…”
“Then what? You get kicked out of your office?” She gestured around the room. “Big whoop. You still have the hotel. You’ll still have everything!”
“But dearest…”
“Don’t ‘dearest’ me! You just don’t want to lose power! Coward!”
The mayor stiffened.
“What did you say?”
“I said you’re a coward!” Chloe spat. “And if you go through with this, all of Paris will know!”
The mayor pushed himself up from his desk. “That’s quite enough from you, Chloe. Back to your room.”
“What?”
“I said, back to your room!” he pointed towards the door.
Chloe glared at him for a moment, then spun on her heel and blew out of the room, still not looking at anyone.
The mayor sunk back to his desk, head in hands. Everyone stared at him.
“She’s right, you know,” he said at last. “You’re all right. It’s just…”
He lapsed into silence.
They all just kept staring. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to move.
Finally, he raised his head, face set.
“Well, to hell with it,” he said. “I’m the mayor, I’ll do what I can to protect Paris. Ladybug, you have my support.”
A cheer went up from the crowd. Marinette felt herself melting and rising at once, swept up in the excitement. So much so that she almost didn’t feel her phone buzzing in her pocket.
She took it out.
The screen declared it was an unknown caller.
She considered not answering it, but something told her that it was important. She called for silence and flipped it open.
“Hello, Ladybug.”
Marinette froze. The voice was deep, silky, and sinister. She knew that voice, though she had only heard it once before.
“Hawkmoth,” she breathed.
“Yes, so nice to finally speak with you,” he said. “I don’t mean to intrude your personal time with business calls, but I have a deal for you.”
Marinette’s frozen face morphed instantly into a scowl. “And what makes you think I’d want to deal with you?”
Then she heard another voice, slightly muffled, as if coming from a distance.
“Don’t do it, Marinette!” it said. “Stay away! I’m fine, I can—”
Then the voice went silent, but she didn’t need to hear more to know who it was.
Adrien.
“So,” Hawkmoth said, voice oozing smugness. “Care to talk?”
In which Adrien and Marinette talk to their parent(s). One talk goes significantly better than the other.
Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.
Read it on AO3! (Recommended, the formatting is pretty important for this chapter and it doesn’t super work on tumblr)
Adrien stepped into his father’s office, trying to keep his expectations low. Permission to be out for one hour. Half an hour. How much time would he need?
But he hadn’t called the meeting—he had been summoned. He would have to play this carefully. Listen first, then talk. Don’t make him angry.
Gabriel dismissed Nathalie with a wave of his hand. Not a good sign, but not necessarily a bad one either.
“Adrien,” he said as soon as the door shut behind her. “I trust you’re doing well?”
“Fine, father,” Adrien said. He could almost taste the tension.
Gabriel nodded. “Good, good.” There was a slight pause, an awkward pause. Neither of them were very good at this familial chit-chat stuff. Finally, he moved on. “It has come to my attention that one of your classmates has recently been identified as none other than the superhero Ladybug. Are you aware of this?”
Adrien nodded stiffly. “Yes, I heard this morning. She’s one of my friends, Marinette. You remember her. She won your fashion competitions.” Was he babbling? His nerves prickled. He forced his mouth shut.
“Yes, of course.” Gabriel pursed his lips. “Well, regardless of past friendships, I fear I must advise you to stay away from her now. It is far too dangerous to be close to a superhero. I refuse to allow you to be in the line of fire.”
What? Adrien bristled, immediately on the defensive. “Marinette is my friend,” he said. Girlfriend? But he didn’t dare say more, not only because he hadn’t discussed the matter with Marinette, but also because now might not be the best time to reveal that particular piece of information to his father. “I’m not going to abandon her.”
Gabriel frowned, brow furrowed. “No need to get dramatic,” he said. “I’m only asking that you not get too close. I don’t want you to be in danger, Adrien. Your safety comes first.”
“No, her feelings come first,” he scowled. He was dimly aware that a few seconds ago he had sworn not to anger his father. Dimly. “If she needs me, then I’ll stay close to her. That’s that.”
Gabriel was looking at him strangely, eyebrows still furrowed, but eyes calculating. Adrien tried and failed to hold his gaze.
“Adrien, is it possible… do you have feelings for this girl?”
There was something dangerous in his father’s tone that made him think he should deny it, but he couldn’t do that. Not after swearing that he would support her.
“She’s a wonderful girl, Father.”
Gabriel’s lips tightened into a line. “Maybe so.” There was a beat of silence. Then, “And I suppose you think she might feel the same about you, hmm?”
Adrien hesitated, reason fighting temper. Temper one. He spoke tersely. “Yes, I think she might.”
Gabriel frown deepened, but he didn’t look angry. He looked contemplative.
Then quite suddenly, he spoke again. “Adrien, you understand that if you don’t cut off contact with this girl, I’ll have to withdraw you from the school.” Gabriel’s voice calm, detached, almost. “Do you think I want to do that?”
Adrien’s anger boiled up in an instant. “Are you serious? Father, that’s ridiculous!”
“It’s only reasonable, Adrien,” Gabriel said. “I will keep you safe. I can’t have you consorting with superheroes. It’s much too dangerous.”
“All my friends are there!”
“And are therefore in danger, just like anyone who decides to associate with Miss Dupain Cheng,” Gabriel said. “I will not have you in the same position.”
“Father, she can protect herself!” Adrien shouted. “And everyone around her! She’s Ladybug!”
“And is therefore a target for whatever decides to attack Paris,” Gabriel said, slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a small child. “Be reasonable, Adrien.”
“Be…” Adrien scoffed, unable to find words. “This is insane! I’m not a child, father. I can handle a little danger, and Ladybug most certainly can!”
Gabriel’s chair slid backwards as he pushed himself to his feet. He looked down at Adrien, face impassive, emotionless. “Son, you are still a child, and I am still your father. I will not be spoken back to. To you room, now.”
Adrien’s jaw dropped. “Father—”
“No, this conversation is over. Your bodyguard will be sent to attend to you. And I’ll have your phone.”
“What?”
“Your phone, Adrien. Now. And I’ll be revoking your internet access as well. There will be no contacting your friends. You are grounded.”
Adrien considered for a moment refusing to relinquish his phone, just to see what would happen. He held his father’s steely eyes for a full second before their razor edge punctured his resolve and he deflated. When had he ever won a fight against his father? Never. And he never would.
He handed his phone over to his father and returned to his room. The Gorilla was already there, waiting for him, a babysitter for a rebellious toddler.
Marinette padded softly down the steps leading up to her room. She had barely been downstairs all day—only once to grab her friends, and once more to accept lunch from her mother. After lunch had been a nap, and after the nap Alya had come over and they had talked until late afternoon. Now it was nearly dinnertime and she decided she finally would do what she had been putting off since the afternoon.
She would talk to her parents.
She had talked to them already of course, sobbed on them hysterically when they had come in at that ungodly morning hour to check on their screaming daughter, but that hadn’t been real conversation. That had been her wailing and them comforting her and assuring her that they would support her no matter what.
She loved their comfort and support. But she needed to talk more.
What did they really think about it? Their only daughter, Ladybug? Were they proud? Scared? And what about the broadcast, that skeptical reporter’s words? Did they agree? Or did they trust her to handle herself?
They had been giving her space, she knew—time to process, time to work stuff out on her own. But in order to process things properly, she needed them too.
She tiptoed into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised to see both of them there. They were baking together—something she knew they loved to do—some sort of tart that was no doubt going to be for dinner. As they cooked they also hummed lightly, dancing around each other, sometimes harmonizing sometimes getting the notes terribly wrong and dissolving into chuckles of laughter. Marinette watched them silently from the doorway for a moment, enjoying their happiness.
Doubt began to prickle in her mind.
She was dangerous. She did dangerous things and now danger would be draw to her, no matter her form, since everyone knew who she was.
Would she be able to keep them safe? Would they thank her for it, or would they blame her for bringing it on them in the first place?
Then she noticed that the humming had stopped, and both her parents were looking at her with a soft concern. Her mother dried her hands on her apron and reached out towards her, arms wide. Marinette went to her and let herself be embraced.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” her father said. His voice was tentative—not weak-tentative, but careful, as if he was handling something very delicate with his large hands and didn’t want to break it.
Marinette took a deep breath.
“I’m... okay,” she said. “Can we talk?”
Adrien sat on his couch, fuming. Mecha Strike III was still in the console. He considered turning it on and up to full volume to try to spite his father, but the walls were mostly soundproof so he doubted that would have any affect. So instead he just sat and stewed.
He wasn’t all angry at his father either. He was angry at himself, and that made things harder.
Why couldn’t he stand up for himself? He had gone in intending to get permission to go out to support Marinette and had instead ended up in his room, alone, forbidden from contacting anyone.
Well, not completely alone.
The Gorilla stood in a corner, looking stoic and vaguely bored. Adrien probably could do anything and the man wouldn’t flinch. He had already tried climbing up his rock wall several times to try to get some of his angry energy out, then flinging himself onto his couch from progressively higher heights. He doubted that was safe, but the Gorilla had absolutely no reaction. Not a great babysitter.
The one thing the Gorilla did do, however, was keep him from transforming, which was unfortunately the only thing he wanted to do right now. He wanted to transform and run out his frustration across the rooftops of Paris, sleepover at Nino’s, and meet up with Marinette and Alya the next day. Screw his father’s worrying, screw everything—he wanted to be with Marinette.
But with the Gorilla there, that whole plan fell to shambles.
He had considered escaping through the bathroom, as he had done in the past, but no doubt the Gorilla would notice he was missing within minutes and alert his father, and he was not about to instigate another city-wide search for a missing child. He had even briefly considered transforming in front of the Gorilla, just to see what would happen, but he dismissed that idea almost immediately. The Gorilla would tell his father, no doubt, and Adrien didn’t even want to think about what would happen if his father found out about his masked masquerading.
But on the other hand, if he could get the Gorilla on his side, convince him to be quiet…
Adrien shook his head. It was a bad plan. It would only complicate things.
There had to be some way…
The sun was getting low in the sky.
If he was going to come up with something, he’d better do it soon.
He needed some way to placate his father. Some way to talk to him without risking another temper flare. But how could he…
Then he spied a pen and paper on the table in front of him and an idea sparked to life. He pulled them close and hunched over the coffee table, tapping the pen against his cheek.
In another part of the city, a girl and her parents were sitting together on a couch, arms around each other. Their voices were soft. The girl had tears in her eyes.
“Oh, Marinette.”
Dear Father…
“Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
I would like to apologize for the way I acted earlier.
“Of course we believe in you.”
You are only trying to keep me safe.
“Are we a bit scared about all the danger you get in to?”
You are right, the situation is dangerous.
“Of course we are.”
You are afraid for me. I understand.
“But we also trust you.”
But I need you to trust me, just this once.
We’ve seen what you are capable of.”
I can take care of myself.
“You’re the protector of Paris!”
Marinette is my friend. I promised I would support her.
“We are so, so proud of you.”
I know you’re angry with me, but please, let me talk to her.
“We love you, Marinette.”
Sincerely, Adrien.
Adrien folded up the letter. The Gorilla summoned Nathalie, who, after exchanging a few words, took the letter, a look of sympathy in her eyes.
In which these ridiculous children have some actual conversations
Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.
Marinette lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyelids felt heavy, and with the warmth of her friends’ presence gone, so did the various problems she had been doing her best to ignore. They sat on her chest like a physical weight, growing heavier by the second.
The four friends had talked a bit, it was true, but not about the really important stuff. None of them had seemed to want to, and with all of them there, it hadn’t felt particularly urgent. Why would she want to think about all the problems and complications in her life when she could giggle over relationships and dramatic reveals? And of course they had to introduce Alya and Nino to Plagg and Tikki. A vastly important thing, really. There was a brief interlude in the giggling and the messing about because of Nadja’s phone call, but that had only really lasted long enough for the group to a rather ill-informed but nonetheless emotional communal rant about politics and decide to meet up at Mari’s house the next day before going to the TV station together. But apart from that, they had simply hung out, enjoying each other’s company as if nothing were particularly wrong with the world. It was almost like any normal day, except that she and Adrien had hung on to each other rather a lot more than normal.
Ah, right. That. That was stressful now too.
Because as much as she had kissed Adrien, she hadn’t actually talked to him about their new relationship status, and suddenly she desperately wished she had. Kissing was all well and good, but what did that make them? Were they a couple? He had told her he loved her, so she guessed that was a “yes.” But were they supposed to go on dates now? She could hardly even picture it. It felt so surreal, somehow. No, not surreal—unreal. Surely that wasn’t the best feeling to have going into a relationship.
But the whole relationship issue seemed rather less important when she actually started to think about the implications of Nadja’s call. She had brushed it off at the time—she was among friends, which made her feel strong, invincible, even. Now that confidence was beginning to waver. Vigilante justice? Prosecution? That was serious stuff. If they failed tomorrow, if the mayor didn’t support them, then either Hawkmoth would win or she would have to consciously decide to be a criminal. Chat might be able to get away with it—he still had his mask, after all, his protected identity—but she…
She tried to remember her friends’ supportive words, their promises of undying support, but they sounded distant, hollow. They were all just kids! How could they possibly change the mayor’s mind? Who of them really knew how politics worked anyway? And what if…
Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing next to her head. She rolled over and checked the caller ID.
It was Alya.
Marinette swiped the answer button with a thumb and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey Alya. What’s up?”
“Hey girl,” Alya said. She sounded somehow like she was biting her lip. “I. Um. Well. I guess I just wanted to apologize. For today.”
Marinette’s mouth quirked into a bemused smile. “Apologize?” she said. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We just hung out.”
“Well, I mean for pressuring you into talking about… you know. Relationship stuff.”
“Alya, are you serious?” Marinette scoffed. “That’s like apologizing for breathing. It’s what friends do.”
Marinette was pleased to hear Alya laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong,” she said. “And don’t get me wrong, I am positive that under any circumstance I would have interrogated you just the same. But… but that probably wasn’t what I should have been focusing on at the time. You know, given the circumstances.”
Marinette felt her breath catch in her throat. “Meaning?”
Alya sighed deeply. “Meaning, of course I wanted to talk about you and Adrien. Like, duh. But I should have asked you how you were doing with the video and everything first. I just really didn’t want to talk about it. Like, really.” She took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush of a sentence. “Which is really dumb of me because you probably had a lot of stuff to get off your chest, but I was just scared and I didn’t know what you would say or how you would react and I didn’t want to break down in front of the boys so I chickened out and completely avoided the whole thing. I’m so sorry.”
Marinette took a deep breath. “You don’t think I was avoiding it too?”
Alya chuckled. There was a brief moment of silence.
“You know, we really should just talk about it,” Alya said at last. “Just take the time to work this out. Just the two of us.”
“Yeah. That sounds nice.”
“Shall I just come back to your place then?”
Marinette peered out of the curtain. “Yeah, that’d be best. There are still a few stubborn reporters hanging around outside, so it’s probably best if I don’t leave the house quite yet.”
“Hopefully they’ll all be gone by tomorrow so you can make a clean escape,” Alya chuckled.
“Ha, hopefully,” Marinette said. “See you in five?”
“In five.”
Alya arrived four and a half minutes later, breathing a bit heavily.
“I sort of made a run out of it,” she explained. “Just to keep those reporters off my trail. I swear, they’d annoy the crap out of me if I didn’t want to be them one day.” Then her expression suddenly changed. She looked panicked. “Well, not them exactly, but you know. A reporter. A good reporter. I-I mean, not that they aren’t good, like, skill-wise, but like, respect-wise they could use some work, I mean, they should be giving you space…”
Marinette put her hands on Alya’s shoulders. “Alya, it’s fine. I knew what you meant.”
Alya smiled and took a deep breath. “Right,” she said. “Well, shall we head upstairs then?”
Marinette agreed, and soon the pair was once more settled around Marinette’s lounging chair. Marinette fidgeted with the end of one of her ponytails, not quite sure where to start. She figured that Alya would probably talk first anyway, and she was not disappointed.
“Okay, so I know I said I’d ask how you were doing,” Alya began, “but first I just want to say that I’m really freaking sorry for what happened. I know you don’t blame me, but really. I should have realized the risks. I should have realized you’d be about to detransform, I just wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
“Alya, it’s okay,” Marinette said firmly, placing a hand on her friend’s knee. “You weren’t thinking, I wasn’t thinking... we can share the blame. Along with whoever reposted the video. And that stupid reporter.”
Alya smiled. “Oh, I blame them alright. I just also blame me. Never you though.”
Marinette made a face. “Come on, Alya. If I had gone just five more feet…”
Alya raised her hands and shook her head. “Sorry Mari. You’re not changing my mind on this one. You can think whatever, but I will never blame you.”
Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a bit now too. “Fine, I won’t argue. But seriously. Don’t put too much of this on yourself. Please?”
Alya’s smile faltered a bit. “I mean… okay,” she said at last. “Only because you asked me to.”
“Alya…”
“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Alya interrupted. “Right. Original question: how are you doing? I know it hasn’t been that long, but it must be a lot to deal with. How are you holding up?”
Marinette considered forcing the guilt issue, but the look of stubbornness in her friend’s eyes told her that would be pointless. Instead, she sighed.
“I think I’m doing okay. Better now, since I had that talk with Chat. I mean Adrien,” she saw Alya perk up a bit at the mention of Chat/Adrien, but she plowed ahead. “I was sort of stuck in my own head before then, but he helped me remember that I have a lot of people around me to support me, and that made me feel better. I think I’ll be able to get through this okay. I mean, we will. Provided everything goes well with the mayor tomorrow.”
Alya nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure we’ll be able to bring him around. Mrs. Chamack must have something good planned, right?”
“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
There was silence for a few moments. Marinette caught Alya staring at her expectantly.
“What?” she said at last.
“Oh, nothing,” Alya said. “Just wondering if there was anything else you might want to talk about.”
“You just want me to talk about Adrien, don’t you.”
Alya held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not pressuring you, girl,” she said. “It just seems like something you might want to talk about, that’s all. You know, since he went from crush to crime-fighting partner to kiss-buddy in the space of a morning.”
Marinette opened her mouth to retort, but found that she had none. It would be nice to talk about it.
“Alright, so it’s like this,” she said, and Alya smiled broadly and tucked her feet up underneath her so she was sitting cross-legged on the lounging chair like an elementary student on a carpet square. “Chat Noir comes in and at first I’m scared he’s going to be disappointed in me or whatever but then it turns out he’s super supportive and keeps calling me amazing and everything and tells me that I’ll never be alone, which is great and, I mean, he’s always been great about stuff like that, supporting me and encouraging me and all that, and so I’m starting to think, okay. I can do this. I can face this stuff. And that makes me think, oh, I can know who Chat is too, so we’ll be on level ground, you know? So we can be a team in costume and out, because, like, I knew I needed his support, so I pull of his ring…”
“What, you what?” Alya said.
“I pulled off his ring,” Marinette repeated. “What?” she added, seeing the shocked expression still on Alya’s face. “I told you this all before, didn’t I?”
“You sort of skipped that part,” Alya said, eyes wide. “I mean, I assumed that eventually you learned that Adrien was Chat because otherwise you would have been surprised when he told us? Or when he was in your room? But you never actually said how it happened. You just sort of kissed Adrien and then Nadja called, so…”
Alya scooted forward a bit on the chair. “Okay, okay, keep going then. What happened after you pulled his ring off?”
“Well, I pulled off his ring and there was Adrien. Adrien, Alya! Just sitting there! Like, two feet away from me! And at first I was just freaking out but then I started thinking and processing and like… do you know how weird that is? That I’ve been crushing on Adrien this whole time, but he’s been right there? As Chat?”
Alya laughed. “I know, girl. After all, I’ve been practically stalking Ladybug and you’ve been right in front of me this whole time.”
Marinette smiled. “Okay, fair point. It’s just… strange. I had this image of Adrien in my head and now… I don’t know. I thought he was so far away, but it turns out he’s one of my best friends. Like, I have spent a lot of time with him, Alya. Patrols. Akumas. Publicity stuff. With Adrien. But… it was just Chat, you know? So it didn’t feel weird or anything, it was just…” She searched for the words to describe the sensation of simultaneous familiarity and strangeness, but there were none. She gave up and finished, “… I don’t know.”
Alya frowned. “You still like him though, don’t you? I mean, I assumed, with all the kissing…”
Marinette grabbed Alya’s knee in earnest. “I do, Alya! That’s the thing! I like him a lot! Like, all these things I’m learning about him just make him even more attractive.”
“Even the bad puns?”
“Okay, maybe not the bad puns,” Marinette conceded. “But Chat is super fun and supportive and kind and brave. And selfless.”
“So what’s the problem?” Alya asked.
“There isn’t one!” Marinette said. “That’s the problem! Everything is perfect!” Alya laughed. Marinette hurried to explain. “No, no, listen, here’s how it went: I learned that Chat is Adrien. Then I realized that not only do I still like Adrien, but now I know him really well. Then Adrien comes out with this declaration of love that apparently he’s been keeping tucked away since he freaking met me, and he still says it to me even though he knows who I am…”
“You mean because he knows who you are,” Alya corrected.
Marinette waved her off. “And then BANG, we’re together! It’s so surreal! I don’t know what to do!”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t see any problem with that,” Alya said, grinning. “Sorry, girl. You’ll just have to get used to it. Your stalker-ish, one-sided love-life is now dead. I’ll say nice words at its funeral.”
“But.. but...” Marinette sputtered. “I didn’t even have to confess! It wasn’t even hard! I just…”
“You just kissed him,” Alya finished for her. “Not a particularly talkative method, but straightforward. I can appreciate that.”
“Alya!” Marinette said, aghast. “Work with me here! What do I do?”
Alya untucked her legs and took a deep breath. “Look, Marinette,” she said. “You’re in a relationship now with the boy of your dreams, and one of your best friends. I say you take that and run with it—you deserve it, you deserve him, he deserves you, you’re perfect for each other.”
Marinette frowned. “But… really? I can’t just… I mean… it sounds too easy…”
Alya held up a finger. “That’s because you haven’t actually done any relationship-ing yet,” she said.
“What?”
“You heard me,” Alya said. “You haven’t seen how it works at school, you haven’t been on a date, you haven’t had an argument yet…”
Marinette snorted. “Oh, Chat Noir and I have had plenty of arguments. I doubt that will change.”
“But you haven’t had them as a couple yet,” Alya said. “That’s what I mean. You haven’t tested how this all works.”
Marinette felt her stomach drop. “Wait… so you’re saying that none of this is actually going to work out?” she said. “You’re saying that we’ll just fight all the time and it will be terrible?”
“No!” Alya said vehemently. “Absolutely not. I think you two will be the most disgustingly sweet couple on the face of the earth.”
“But then why…”
“What I am saying is that it will take work.” Alya leaned back again, hands on her knees. “That’s what’ll make it feel real. Don’t worry if it seems too good to be true now. Soon enough, you’ll run into your problems. You know, arguments and stuff. But trust me—if you’re both committed to it, which I think you very well are, then you can work through those together,” she smiled. “That’s how it works with me and Nino, anyways.”
Marinette sat back in her chair. A bit of work? She could do that. She was a hard worker—she prided herself in that. They could make this work. They could be a normal couple.
Correction: a superhero couple. But still.
She felt herself smiling.
“Thanks Alya,” she said. “I needed that.”
Alya grinned back. “No problem girl. Now I guess we just have to worry about the mayor, right?” Marinette’s face fell, and Alya blanched. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” Marinette said. She took a deep breath. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. We’ll face it when we come to it. Sound good?”
Alya nodded. “Sounds good.”
Marinette swiveled her chair around. “Now, it seems to me that I still have a bunch of snacks up here from earlier,” she said. “Tikki, want to help us clean them up?”
A red blur streaked from Marinette’s bed, stopping inches in front of her face.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Tikki grinned.
Adrien was having one of the strangest days of his entire life.
The previous night, he had gone to bed thinking that he would have a normal weekend, uneventful save the photoshoot, the fencing practice, the piano lesson, and the endless hours playing video games by himself in his room.
The video had rather changed all that.
Now, he was sprinting across the rooftops as Chat Noir away from the house of his first-friend-turned-love-of-his-life-turned-girlfriend-question-mark, resisting the temptation to check his baton for the eighth time. He already knew he was going to be late for the shoot, and that his father would be angry about it. What was the point in checking?
At the next rooftop, he flipped open his baton. Ten minutes past twelve. Yep, still late.
But as he swung over the park, he noticed something strange. The camera man wasn’t set up yet. He wasn’t there at all.
He detransformed and checked his phone, ignoring Plagg’s moans for cheese. There was a message there from Nathalie. He was a bit surprised that he hadn’t noticed it, but he supposed he shouldn’t be—his phone had been on silent all morning, after all. He flicked it open.
Shoot canceled, it read. Your father had urgent business.
There was also a voicemail. That was strange—Nathalie usually kept her correspondence brief. Adrien pressed play and held the phone close to his ear. It was, in fact, Nathalie’s voice.
“Adrien—I heard from your friend Marinette’s parents that you visited her house early this morning.”
Adrien started. She had found out that quickly? Well, Nathalie did have her ways. He kept listening.
“Ordinarily such unsanctioned excursions would be strictly prohibited and I would be obliged to report your behavior to your father. However, I have reviewed the circumstances and come to the conclusion that you were acting solely for the sake of your friend and therefore I will neglect to mention this particular outing to your father. I must warn you, though—I will not be able to keep future outings so private. Good day.”
The message ended with a small click. Adrien lowered the phone slowly. The message was clear enough—you got away with running around this time, but you can’t keep doing it forever.
But I need to be there for Marinette tomorrow when we all face the mayor…
More complications. He decided that the best course of action right now was to go home and play video games and think about it.
He could just play alone. Or…
He looked at his phone. Nino wouldn’t be busy right now, would he?
Half an hour later, he and Nino were settled comfortably on Adrien’s rather ostentatious couch, rapidly punching buttons. They had decided on Mecha Strike III, partially because it was fun and partially because Adrien didn’t really want a thinking game right now. He supposed Mecha Strike III could be a thinking game, if he were better at it. Maybe if he were as good as Marinette. She probably put rather a lot of thought into it when she played. He remembered her with her eyes glued to the screen, tongue sticking out just slightly, leaning in, close to the screen.
He really needed to find a way to get to the TV station tomorrow. He definitely wanted to be there for her. If only he could just…
A series of rapid buzzes in his controller jerked him back to reality.
“Dude, you got creamed,” Nino said, stretching back as the victory screen flashed a picture of his avatar. “You doing okay? You usually wipe the floor with me in these sorts of games.”
Adrien let out a heavy sigh. “I think I’m fine? I dunno… just thinking about tomorrow, I guess.”
“I feel that,” Nino said, nodding. “You wanna talk about it? Or just keep letting me virtually beat you up?”
Adrien laughed a little. “You sure you want to hear about it? It’ll be pretty sappy and mopey.”
Nino put his controller down on the couch between them and looked Adrien straight in the eye. “Adrien. Dude. I am your friend. Of course I want to hear about it.”
Adrien smiled gratefully. “Okay. Well, Nathalie made it very clear that today’s morning excursion was an exception, not a rule. There’s no way she’ll let me run around tomorrow.”
“Ouch. That’s rough,” Nino said. “But dude, you’re Chat Noir. Can’t you just, like, hop out a window or something?”
“I wish,” Adrien said. “I mean, that’s what I did this morning. But father tends to get… concerned when he can’t find me in the house.”
They shared a vivid flashback to the previous Christmas. Both shuddered.
“Okay, fair point,” Nino said. “I guess even Chat Noir’s freedom’s sort of limited then, huh?”
“Ha, yeah.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, at least I get to be myself, even if I can’t be wherever I want to be.”
He hadn’t particularly meant to say it, it just sort of slipped out. But it did not slip by Nino. He was looking at him intensely, brow furrowed.
“Be yourself?” he said. “Dude, you know you can be yourself around me, right? Mask or no.”
Adrien hurried to explain. “No! I mean yes, of course I know that! But when I’m out there, you know, in public, I’m not just Adrien, I’m Adrien Agreste. Anything and everything I do could reflect back on my father. I have to be careful. As Chat though…”
Nino was nodding. “Oh, I gotcha,” he said. “As Chat, it’s just you. Nothing to hold you back.”
“Exactly,” Adrien said.
“Sounds like I’ll have to hang out with Chat sometime, then,” Nino smiled. “Could be fun.”
Adrien’s face lit up. “Dude, that would be awesome. We should totally do that. When would…” He faltered, remembering. Tomorrow. Right. “Well, right after…”
“Right after we get everything sorted with the Mayor,” Nino finished for him. “I gotcha.”
Adrien slouched forward, dropping his chin into his hands. “I’ve gotta figure out some way to get there. Maybe I can convince Nathalie that she has some sort of meeting and then while she’s running around trying to find it I can go to the TV station and…”
“Dude,” Nino cut him off. “You could just ask.”
“What?” Adrien looked up.
“Ask your dad. You never know.”
Adrien snorted. “Nino, you’ve seen how well that goes. That’s what got you akumatized, remember?”
“Yeah, well, that was over a birthday party,” Nino shrugged, not looking directly at him. “This is different. This is for a friend. Besides, your dad approves of Marinette, right? She always wins his design contests and stuff. And, I mean, he has to approve of Ladybug. So maybe he’d be okay with it.”
“Well…”
“It’s worth a shot, anyways,” Nino said stubbornly. “I know your dad is ridiculous, but he can’t be that cruel.”
Adrien snorted again, but maybe Nino was right. His dad was strict, but he wasn’t cruel. And he did like Marinette, as far as Adrien knew.
“Alright, I’ll ask,” Adrien conceded at last. “But only because you told me to.”
“Sweet,” Nino grinned. “And if he says no, clock him over the head and sneak out as Chat Noir.”
“Nino!”
“Just kidding,” Nino laughed. “But seriously, I think he’ll agree. I mean, you’re asking for permission to go support the love of your life. He has to know love when he sees it, right?”
Adrien blushed. “R-right. Thanks, Nino.”
“No sweat, A— ”
Just then, there was a sharp rap on the door. It swung open to reveal Nathalie, standing stiff as always, tablet in hand.
“Adrien?” she said. “Your father would like to see you.”
Adrien twisted around to face her. “Father? I thought you said he had urgent business.”
“Well, he’s back,” Nathalie said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Now that Adrien was facing her, he could see that she looked fairly frazzled. “He’s back, and he’s asked for you. So, come.” Both Adrien and Nino stood. Nathalie started when she saw Nino. “Oh, I see you have a friend here. Shall I—”
“I can see myself out,” Nino said. He winked at Adrien. “Good luck, man.”
“Thanks,” Adrien smiled back.
Nino slid past Nathalie and out of the room, and then it was just Adrien and Nathalie, staring at each other.
“Adrien, your father is waiting.”
Adrien took a deep breath. His heart was beating perhaps a bit quickly, but his legs were stable.
