You're in my arms
And all the world is calm
The music playing on for only two
Happy (very belated) Holidays, @phantompierce-okamoto! One of your preferences for @mlsecretsanta was lovesquare, so I whipped up a Marichat piece for you! I hope you’re doing well, and that you enjoy this!
I hope you had a good holiday season and a happy new year @sweetsweetsweetie! I’m your @mlsecretsanta~ ^-^
You asked for some love square, so I really hope you enjoy this marichat fluff!
This is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @crispypata! Crispy asked for DJWifi and Bunnyx, so I delivered.
*
It’s been a long week, and Alya is grateful for some alone time. While it’s always nice to have the others around, there’s an unstated pleasure in being the only one of her friends awake this early. Nino and Marinette are always asleep until very shortly before class, and Adrien may be awake, but his driver won’t be here for at least another twenty minutes. That’s a precious twenty minutes away from her sisters, away from anybody else. A precious twenty minutes of quiet.
Normally she’d spend this time updating the Ladyblog, moderating comments, writing posts, but after last night’s battle she just… she needs some time. Time to herself.
She’s shaking, just a little. She’s not even touching her phone. For the first time in a while, she’s actually reading a physical comic book—specifically, The Mighty Majestia Issue #48. Her first comic. A gift from her father when she was a little girl. It used to make her feel better when things were going bad. She needs that, a little bit, today. The feel of the paper under her fingertips.
It wasn’t her first near-death experience—she’s had a lot of those since Hawkmoth appeared in Paris. But Ladybug almost hadn’t made it last night. Alya had gone running after the Akuma, like usual, and…
A body flops down next to her on the bench. The warmth and weight of it—she glances to the side, and meets the familiar warm eyes of Nino.
“You okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of the comic. “You haven’t read this since before we met.”
Alya nods. “Last night was bad,” she says.
Nino nods. “Yeah,” he responds. “Yeah it was.”
He doesn’t say anything else.
Alya is rarely the most perceptive person—more passionate than perceptive, honestly, though not for lack of trying (she tries really hard, it’s just… hard to tell what other people aren’t saying sometimes)—but she cares, and Nino is at school forty minutes before he’s usually awake and he seems unusually tense. She closes her comic. “Babe?”
Nino sighs, looking down as he picks at a hangnail on his thumb. “I can’t keep watching you die, Als.”
Alya’s heart judders. “You’re not okay, then.”
He shakes his head. “I mean Rena Rouge is one thing. I know you can protect yourself, and Ladybug is right there if things go bad. But every time I see you chase after a giant baby with no protection but that sexy plaid shirt...”
“I have a responsibility, Nino!” she says.
“I know,” Nino says quietly. “I can’t really ask you to stop, either.”
Alya swallows. “Are you... breaking up with me?”
Nino looks at her for a moment, then snorts. “Hell no.” He reaches up to Alya’s cheek, brushing her hair away from her ear. “You ain’t getting away from me that easy, girl.”
Alya relaxes, leaning into his palm. “Attaboy,” she says.
Nino grimaces. “I might… need a day or two to process, though.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”
Alya’s heart falls. “You’re sure.” It’s not a question—Nino doesn’t make decisions half-cocked the way she does. He thinks, and considers, and once his choice is made, he sticks to it. That surety—that stability—is one of the reasons she loves him. Even if right now it’s hurting her.
“I’m sure,” he says. “Just… I need a few days after. You know.” He hangs his head. “Seeing you die again.”
Oh, God, Alya wants to slap him. And maybe a year ago she would have. But today-Alya is not last-year-Alya, and, instead, she just drops her head a little. “It was a bad one, wasn’t it,” she says.
*
Alya trudges out of class, dragging her feet. It’s been a difficult day, to say the least, and Marinette—bless her—may be trying to help, but there’s not all that much to do.
“We could go to my place and stuff ourselves with Beignets,” Marinette offers, with her characteristic hyperenergetic movement. “I know you love the Majestia movie?”
Alya shakes her head. “I relax a bit better when I move,” she says. She looks at the basketball hoops. “Can you stick around for…” She catches a hint of green out of the corner of her eye—a familiar shade, one that she’s seen quite a lot. She blinks. “For a few…” She turns her head, and there—staring down at her from the roof of the school—is Carapace. “Uh.”
Marinette follows her gaze. “What are you—”
Carapace’s head jerks as he seems to realize that he’s been spotted, and he leaps down out of sight.
“What is he doing?” Alya murmurs.
Marinette’s iron fingers wrap around her bicep. “Alya,” she hisses, “that’s not Carapace.”
“What do you mean?” Alya says, turning her head, just in time to catch a glimpse of Nino—as Nino, not as Carapace—walking out of the locker room on the opposite side of the school from where Carapace disappeared. It’s too soon, too fast—there’s no way he could’ve come around the school that quickly.
“Excuse me,” she says, bolting towards her boyfriend. She grabs his arm and yanks him away from Adrien.
“Babe... what?” he says, looking at her like she just grew a second head.
“I just saw Carapace on the roof,” she hisses.
His eyes widen behind his glasses.
*
They didn’t really discuss it, at least not verbally, but they both pretty easily came to the decision that whoever this is, stealing their identities is not something this person gets to get away with. They don’t even talk it through before they’ve agreed to chase this imposter down.
“You’re sure he went this way?” Nino asks as they charge off down the street toward where Alya had last seen the false Carapace.
“Yes, I’m—!” Alya starts to snap, before she catches herself and—stopping her headlong charge by pressing a palm into a nearby wall—breathes in. “Sorry, sorry.” She glances at him. “Pretty sure, yeah.”
“God, I wish I had my shield,” Nino mutters. He grabs her hand and meets her eyes with his characteristic Nino Soft Look. “If this ends up being a bad one, please take cover?”
Alya grimaces. “The Akuma is using your face, Babe,” she says.
“Please.” His voice is calm and soft.
Alya thinks about how distraught he was this morning, how little she wants to do that to him again. “I’ll—I’ll try.”
Nino smiles. “That’s really all I can ask, isn’t it.”
Alya smiles, tugging him along. “You knew I was crazy when I asked you out,” she says, building carefully building back up to a run.
Nino snorts, vaulting over a street barrier. “That I did.”
*
It takes barely a minute before they reach the spot where the false Carapace must’ve gone, leaving them looking down wide avenues packed with people—none of whom are wearing a green hood.
“We lost him,” Nino says, puffing.
“I mean,” Alya gasps, “duh.” She leans onto her knees. “He’s got—powers, and we—we have, what—about eight—months of parkour training?”
A familiar whizz-crack comes from above, as a spotted red figure drops down in front of them. “Alya!” Ladybug says, glancing confusedly at Nino. “Did you see where Carapace went?”
“Nope,” Alya says. She leans in toward Ladybug, carefully eyeing the other people who are watching the exchange. “Definitely an Akuma, then?” she whispers, quietly enough that nobody else is alarmed.
“Maybe?” Ladybug whispers back. “Or a Sentimonster, or. Well. One other thing.”
Alya’s eyebrows narrow. “What other thing?”
Ladybug shakes her head. “Probably not important,” she says. She straightens and backs away, whipping her yo-yo in rapid circles. “Everyone stay calm and quietly evacuate the area,” she says in a clear, authoritative voice. “Calmly, please! Everything is under control.”
There’s a growing undercurrent of panic in the crowd at Ladybug’s words, but there’s a force behind her last sentence, a reassurance, that passes calm through the crowd like a ripple. Much to Alya’s surprise, there’s no stampede, no rush to flee. Everyone actually listens, beginning to carefully file away, emptying out the street.
“Any chance we could get our Miraculi?” Nino asks. “I don’t like this.”
Ladybug glances over her shoulder at him. “Not until Chat gets here,” she says. “I can’t just leave the Akuma without anyone containing it.”
A black blur drops out of the sky, rolling and springing to his feet next to Ladybug. “Good thing I’m here, then!” Chat says, leaning his elbow onto her shoulder.
Ladybug rolls her eyes. “Always so dramatic,” she says, turning to her partner. “Can you hold down the fort for a few while I grab backup?”
Chat eyes Alya and Nino. “So long as the Ladyblogger doesn’t get herself killed, yes.”
*
There’s still been no sighting of the fake Carapace by the time Ladybug returns carrying the bracelet and the necklace. Chat has been running across the rooftops, spying into alleyways, but hasn’t seen scale nor shell of him.
“Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe,” Ladybug intones, holding the two Miraculi aloft. “I’m trusting you with the Miraculous of the Fox and Turtle.” She purses her lip. “I’m going to ask you to switch, though. I don’t want us mixing up our Carapi.”
Alya grimaces, but Nino just nods. “Makes sense,” he says, taking the necklace and draping it around his neck. It sparks, and a tiny fox spirals out from it. “Trixx, Let’s Pounce!” Nino calls.
He flashes orange, sparks running across his whole body, and suddenly Nino is gone, replaced by an orange-clad superhero. He still has Carapace’s hood, peaked down over his forehead, with ears poking through holes in the top. Leggings are tucked into combat boots, black gloves cuffed over white-and-orange sleeves. He looks down at his arms, twisting his hands to look at both sides. “Hmm,” he says. “Pretty cool.”
“What should we call you?” Ladybug says.
Nino meets Alya’s eyes. “What about… Reynard?” he says.
“Reynard it is,” Ladybug says. She turns to Alya, handing her the jade bracelet. “You ready?”
“Always,” Alya says, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. “Wayzz, Shell On!”
She feels her hair lift into a high ponytail as her glasses meld to her face into a domino mask. Unlike the Rena Rouge transformation, which slims her down, she feels herself bulking up. Armor plates slam into place around her chest, shoulders, and thighs. Everything feels heavier, but also stronger, more stable.
Reynard whistles. “Damn, babe,” he says. “Green looks good on you.”
Tortue Verte grins. “You expected anything else?” she ask. She absently lifts the shield. “Damn, this thing is heavy,” she says, looking at Reynard. “How do you even lift it?”
“Practice,” Reynard says, twirling the flute. “This is really light!”
“It’s basically bamboo,” Tortue replies, slinging the shield onto her back. “You ready?”
Reynard sheathes the flute on his own back. “Let’s take this guy down.”
*
Tortue Verte’s super jump is a lot like Rena Rouge’s—though, given the balance between her being slightly stronger with the Turtle and also being heavier, it’s a little weird to balance. She gets more distance but less height with each jump, and since her brain keeps expecting Rena’s jump arc, she keeps misjudging where she’s landing.
She lands hard on the side of her foot, twisting her ankle and stumbling shoulder-first into a chimney with a yelp. Her ankle is struck by stabbing pain, and she immediately collapses onto her side. She lies there on the roof, huffing, feeling desperate and foolish. This is not what she was hoping for.
She carefully drags herself up the chimney into a sitting position, carefully pulling the shield from her back and dialing Reynard.
“Hey babe,” he says, his orange-hooded face filling the screen. “You good?”
She shakes her head. “Landed bad,” she says. “I think I twisted my ankle.”
Reynard’s eyes widen behind his goggles. “Where are you?” he says. “I’ll be there in a—”
“Babe!” she interrupts. “Akuma. I’ll be fine up here.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “Give that fake hell.” She hangs up, then collapses backward against the chimney with a gasp.
“Sorry I didn’t catch you,” a voice—a familiar one, but one she can’t quite place—says from behind her. “I think you’d have broken a few of my bones.”
She whips her head around to see a red-haired woman dressed in blue and white, bunny ears sprouting from her head, leaning on an umbrella as if it were a cane. Tortue tries to leap to her feet, shield up, but pain spikes through her ankle the second her foot meets shingle. “Augh!”
The woman immediately drops the umbrella, and her arms are around Tortue’s body. “Careful,” she says. “Don’t want to put too much weight on that.”
“Don’t touch me,” Tortue growls.
The woman laughs. “Relax, Foxy. I’m not an Akuma.”
Tortue blinks. Foxy? She’s wearing the Turtle, not the Fox, which means… “You—you know who I am.”
The woman smirks and throws up a peace sign. “The name’s Bunnyx,” she says. “Wielder of the Miraculous of Time, from ten years in the future.”
“Prove it,” Tortue says. “What’s Ladybug’s real name?”
Bunnyx snorts. “You’re not getting it that easily… Alya,” she says. “Also, Nino’s sort of downplaying how worried about you he is. You really should start being more careful before you give him a heart attack.”
Tortue stares at Bunnyx, then blinks. “...Okay, you’re for real,” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you warning us about something?”
Bunnyx shakes her head. “I brought Carapace and Rena back from my time for one reason,” she says. “Future Hawkmoth has discovered Ladybug’s identity, which has put her daughter in danger.”
“Daughter?” Tortue says.
Bunnyx continues as if she hasn’t heard. “Ladybug asked me to bring her back in time to protect her from Future Hawkmoth, but I needed backup just in case she followed us. You and your boyfriend were the obvious choice.”
“Where is she?” Tortue says, trying to work her way to her feet. She hisses as pain lances through her ankle again.
“Jeez, stay down, Tortue!” Bunnyx says, carefully easing her back into a sitting position. “You need to be careful. We need you for this one.”
“Don’t bother,” says a voice that sounds like Tortue’s own as an older, taller Rena Rouge lands in a crouch. “I had absolutely no self-preservation at that age.”
Carapace lands next to her, softer, gentler. “You nearly killed me like eight times,” he says, cradling a baby in his arms. He looks down at Tortue. “Hey, babe.”
Rena rolls her eyes, gently punching Carapace’s shoulder. “Don’t flirt with young me, you butt,” she says.
Tortue stares at the baby, wide-eyed. “Is that…” she murmurs.
Rena nods. “Our god-daughter,” she says.
Carapace smiles. “Do you want to hold her?”
*
“She’s… mine?” Ladybug says, gazing down into her daughter’s emerald-green eyes.
The baby laughs, reaching up toward her mother’s face and pressing her chubby palm into Ladybug’s cheek.
“Who’s the father?” Chat says to Bunnyx, hope shining in his eyes. (Tortue admits to herself that she’s just as interested in finding out.)
Bunnyx smirks. “Oh, Kitty Noir, you know I can’t tell you.”
Chat looks crestfallen. “Not even a hint?”
“She’s so small,” Ladybug whispers, pointing a finger at her daughter’s face. The baby laughs again, gripping her mother’s finger in between her hands.
“You said she’s my—our god-daughter?” Tortue says.
Rena laughs. “My boyfriend has spent more time pampering this little terror than he has me lately,” she says. She turns and pokes Reynard in the chest. “You’ve got some growing to do, babe.”
Carapace rolls his eyes. “Please don’t flirt with the babies, babe,” he says with a smirk.
The laughter that follows seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Tortue looks around, unsettled.
“...Wasn’t that funny,” Carapace mutters.
Bunnyx walks toward the edge of the roof, looking down. “Missing the point again, Shelly?” she says, pointing down. “It’s starting.”
“What is?” Chat says.
“ATTENTION PARIS!” a booming, feminine voice echoes deeply through the sky as if it’s rebounding off the very atmosphere, followed by a sudden eruption of Wagnerian opera. “YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO JOIN THE RANKS OF ODIN’S MIGHTY WARRIORS IN VALHALLA!”
“Ah,” Chat says, nodding. “Akuma time.”
“Bad one,” Bunnyx agrees, nodding. “We picked today for a reason. Two illusionists needed at minimum.”
Tortue gingerly attempts to stand, only for the pain in her ankle to spike like a jagged piece of bone. “Ah!” she yelps, collapsing backward.
Immediately, two sets of hands are holding her up—Reynard’s and Carapace’s. “You okay?” Reynard says, his eyes soft and concerned.
Carapace swallows. “I’m sorry, babe, but I—” He glances at Rena. “We are going to need you to stay out of this fight. You’re injured.”
“I can help!” Tortue protests.
Carapace shakes his head. “I know how much it means to you to be out there with us, but A—um, sweetie, I need you alive, okay?” He smiles, glancing back at Ladybug. “Besides, um. Someone needs to keep the baby safe.”
Reynard raises an eyebrow. “You are a braver man than I,” he says.
Rena laughs. “Oh, it’s just ‘cause she’s a baby,” she says. “He knows I’d rip his throat out if he tried that.”
“You are also much less suicidally reckless than she is,” Carapace shoots back.
Rena shrugs. “Fair point.”
Ladybug approaches, carefully laying the baby into Tortue’s arms with a look of regret. “Stay safe, okay?” she says. She looks down and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “And keep her safe.”
Tortue swallows, overwhelmed by the—the everything. The trust Ladybug is showing her, the softness of the moment, the sadness in the child’s eyes as her mother goes back off to battle… it’s too much.
“I’ll do my best,” she croaks, trying not to tear up.
*
Carapace had carried her away from the battle. Vilekyrie controlled the sky, making it difficult to keep the baby out of her reach, but he’d found her a little out-of-the-way cubbyhole that nobody would come looking in during the attack. Or, well. Not a cubbyhole, really. More of a luxury suite at the Hotel Gran Paris.
“How did you know nobody would be here?” Tortue had asked him.
He’d only smiled in reply. “Spoilers,” he’d said. “Love you forever, but I gotta get back there.”
“Good luck!”
Now, about forty minutes into the battle, she can hear the clash of swords, the clanking of armor, the screaming of horses as they flew past her shaded window. She’d looked outside earlier, caught a glimpse of the copies of Vilekyrie flashing across the sky—copies of her that kept growing by the moment—and the marching of ghostly Viking soldiers on the ground: the Einherjar she’d selected from Paris’ citizens, transformed into undying warrior spirits. It doesn’t seem to be going well, but then, she doesn’t really have the best vantage point.
The baby is fussy, fussier than she was when Ladybug was around—Tortue can only guess that it’s because she wants her mother. The room has been stocked with formula and fresh diapers, and, thanks to her experience with the twins, Tortue has plenty of experience with taking care of a baby, but the girl just won’t settle down.
There’s a quiet footfall on the balcony—not a Vilekyrie, and the Einherjar can’t seem to climb. Tortue turns around to see the balcony door creek open, followed by a pair of large orange ears. “Hey. Mini-me,” Rena says. “You hanging in there?”
Tortue smiles, rocking the baby gently in her arms. “You didn’t tell me her name,” she says. “Feel weird just calling her ‘baby’.”
Rena ducks around the door, shutting it behind her, then bends down, cooing over the child’s delighted face. “HellooOOOooo!” She tickles the baby’s nose with her finger, and the girl laughs.
Rena looks back up at Tortue with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she says. “No names. Spoilers.”
Tortue rolls her eyes. “Am I always this aggravating?”
Rena gently wraps her arms underneath the baby’s back, lifting her from Tortue’s arms. “Pretty much!” She turns back to the baby and blows a raspberry.
“What’s up?” Tortue says. “Why aren’t you with the others?” As if to punctuate her point, an explosion sounds in the distance, and Tortue raises an eyebrow.
“Needed to talk to you,” Rena says, sitting down on the plush velvet bedspread across from her. “Also, I told them you were planning on running into the combat zone, so…”
“I was not!” Tortue yelps, leaping from her desk chair. The baby immediately squeals in distress.
Rena grins. “I know,” she says, gently tickling the child’s nose. “But they believed me when I said it, and by the time they figure it out…”
Tortue sighs. Gods, her older self is annoying. “What do you want, Alya?”
The animation in Rena’s face slackens, and she looks down at her own stomach. “I… want to show you something.” Keeping one hand under the baby, she reaches behind her and unslings the flute, opening the space within. “Take a look.”
Tortue reaches inside the extradimensional storage space inside Rena’s weapon, confused—and then her fingers close around something small, round, and metal, and she understands. “You’re going to propose,” she says, fishing the ring out of the flute. She stares at it, entranced.
“Yep,” Rena agrees with a nod, gently bouncing the baby. “Bought the ring last week.”
Tortue doesn’t even know what to say in this situation. Is it… weird to congratulate herself? Some situations, there aren’t just good responses for.
Rena sees her face and laughs. “Don’t look so shocked, Mini-me,” she says. She carefully rocks Ladybug’s baby, staring into her green eyes. “I mean, you always knew we were gonna do this eventually.”
“Yeah, but… kinda young?” Tortue says, handing the ring back to Rena.
“Ladybug’s younger.” Rena absently places the ring back inside her flute, still bouncing the baby in her other arm. “About a year younger than you, actually.”
Tortue blinks. She’s—well, she figured out a while back that Ladybug wasn’t actually 5,000 years old, but she’d always assumed she was, maybe, Anansi’s age? The thought that Ladybug is younger than she is... “Yikes.”
“Yikes is right,” Rena says. “And she has anxiety. So every time you go running face-first into danger like you’re never gonna die…”
“Is this a lecture?” Tortue says.
“Little bit,” Rena responds.
Oh, great. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from herself of all people.
Rena rolls her eyes. “Listen, Kit, sometimes—sometimes Ladybug isn’t gonna be there. She doesn’t always show up, you know.”
Tortue narrows her eyebrows. “Yes she does?” That’s, like, the big consistency. Aside from that one time where the Akuma and the Sentimonster were in different cities, Ladybug has shown up for every single Akuma battle.
Rena shakes her head. “She has a life, Alya. And, well, sometimes she needs Chat to cover for her.” She looks toward the curtained window, toward the sounds of the battle still filtering in from outside. “And sometimes, Chat and Viperion get taken out early, and the only person who can use the Ladybug is you.”
A chill runs down Tortue’s entire body. The responsibility of using the Ladybug Miraculous—it’s terrifying. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might pass down to her, that—oh, no. This is… this is what Ladybug feels all the time, isn’t it?
“Listen, however you feel about Nino now?” Rena says. “It’s nothing compared to what it’s going to be. He and I, we’d do anything for each other.” She breathes in, stroking the baby’s head. “Which means that, well, you and I need to stay alive.”
“The Miraculous Cure—”
Rena shakes her head. “It’s good, but it’s not… 100% reliable. Sometimes, Ladybug can’t be there.”
Tortue’s mouth opens, closes. Opens again. “Oh.”
Rena stands and places a hand on her younger self’s shoulder. “Alya, someday, you’re gonna get hurt. You’re gonna get hurt in a way that Ladybug can’t fix, and you’re going to wonder if you even deserve this Miraculous. If you even deserve Nino.” She looks down at the baby with naked fondness in her eyes. “I’m telling you now—you deserve way more than you realize. But if you want to make it to see our wedding...” She trails off.
Tortue waits for her to finish, but Rena doesn’t say anything else. The implications in Rena’s words are disconcerting, and Tortue asks the question that’s burning inside her chest. “Am I going to die?”
“Of course you are,” Rena replies. “You’re going to die a lot. But some of them are going to be harder to come back from, and Alya.” Rena’s eyes bore into hers. “You need to come back. Okay?”
“Okay,” Tortue whispers.
“Miraculous LADYBUG!” Ladybug calls from outside, and pink insects swarm across the room. There’s a brief moment of pain as Tortue’s ankle snaps back into place, immediately replaced by cool relief as the pressure vanishes.
Rena puts a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Reynard, okay?” she says. “About the ring.”
Tortue mimes zipping her lip.
Rena nods. “Thanks,” she says. “Oh, and one more thing—you’re also gonna need to be more careful if you want to get into a good journalism school. Nobody wants to be the professor that killed the Ladyblogger.”
Tortue blinks. She… hadn’t even thought of that. “That makes sense, I think?” she says.
The balcony door creaks open and Carapace peeks through. “Hey, guys,” he says. “How’s everything going in here?”
“Really great!” Tortue says. She eyes her older self. Rena is fidgeting, looking away from her boyfriend’s face, and Tortue realizes—if she doesn’t make the push, Rena isn’t going to do it. “I think Rena has something to tell you.”
Rena glares at Tortue. “Betrayal!” she hisses.
Tortue laughs. “You’ll thank me later.”
Carapace glanced between them, confusion written across his face. “Um, what’s going on?”
Rena takes a deep breath, then carefully hands the baby to Tortue. “Hold her for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Rena looks at her boyfriend, then drops to one knee, fishing the ring out of her flute. “Nino Lahiffe. Will—will you, um…”
Carapace gasps and covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes shining wetly. “Alya?” he whispers.
Both of them sit in shocked silence, staring at each other, frozen, and after a moment, Tortue gets fed up. “Babe,” she says. “Say yes.”
Carapace glances at her, then back and his girlfriend... then lifts his fiancée bodily into the air in a crushing, spinning hug.
“Yes, yes, yes!” he crows in delight.
*
The portal closes, leaving just the four of them behind.
Ladybug huffs in relief. “You know, I love Bunnyx, but… every time I see her, it’s a brand new disaster.”
Chat looks at her in confusion. “Every? Isn’t this only the second time?”
Reynard sidles up to Tortue Verte. “So, how was meeting your future self?” he says, as Ladybug and Chat quietly discuss something else off to the side. “Mine was a lot more confident than I expected.”
Tortue snorts. “Kind of a butt,” she says. “But then again, that’s not much of a surprise, is it.”
Reynard coughs. “I invoke my right to not incriminate myself,” he says.
Tortue smacks his shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”
Reynard smiles. “Your dork.” He looks at where the portal vanished. “For quite a while, apparently.” He turns back to Tortue. “She tell you anything interesting?”
Tortue smiles, thinking about the proposal, about how happy she and her Nino were. About all the advice her future self gave. She has a lot of work to do.
