Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her smile was plastic, the faded kind not often seen in new designers. There was a sort of sad beauty to it every time, tragedy in motion. The smiles always became plastic right before they broke. Gabriel Agreste had seen many plastic smiles. They didn't phase him anymore.

"Change the stitching on the sleeves to gold," he said, handing back the tablet that held the designs. "Once that's done, take it to Pierre in fabric. Choose something light. With these layers, I don't want another model collapsing."

That wasn't one of her designs, of course. The person responsible for that had been fired long ago, but the business still bore the scars.

"Oui, monsieur," she assured him. "I'll get started on it right away." With a hasty bow, she left to fix the coloring and begin the actual creation process.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Gabriel mused on the name. It sounded vaguely familiar in an odd way, like he'd heard it in association with something besides fashion, but her background checks had turned up nothing of note.

He shrugged the thought away. She was a competent original designer and implemented notes and critique well. She'd made it this far in the business with neither money nor connections behind her, and her passion for the business appeared to be ongoing, for the time being.

But her smile was plastic, and that could be a problem. She was reaching her breaking point, and once she did one of three things would happen: she'd grow bitter and her designs would lack any inspiration or creative flair, she'd quit fashion altogether, or she'd be one of a small few who managed to maintain some faculties and principles of style despite their newfound depression. While he hoped she'd be in the last category when she broke, the timing was particularly atrocious.

This Winter line wasn't slated to be complete for another four months and Dupain-Cheng was, for now, essential to its timely completion. If she'd had her breakdown a few months before she could have been used or replaced without any issue, likewise if it came a few months later, but at this delicate stage Gabriel would need to act quickly.

Nathalie was already outside with the car by the time he made it downstairs. Oh how he loathed traveling in public. Ever since he'd become famous, it was all he could do to get through a simple errand unaccosted. The only person who had made it bearable was... his mind clamped down on the thought, silencing it.

She would be returned, soon enough.

They stopped in front of a large but plain building with a simple sign in front of it. 'Honeycomb counseling office for Akuma victim prevention and recovery,' the sign read, and Gabriel's teeth clenched. If it weren't an absolute emergency, he wouldn't get within fifty yards of the place, but needs must, as they say.

He walked in with Nathalie close behind, entering the humble but obviously well funded office building. "Hello, monsieur, how can I help you, today?" The woman at the counter asked.

Nathalie leaned forward and answered for him. "A woman we know might be in danger of an Akuma. We'd like to talk to someone about what we can do to help her." Most of Gabriel's plebeian affairs were handled by her. He may have had a better eye for fashion, but Nathalie was far more adept at dealing with people, so he tended to have her do so whenever possible. He wouldn't be in the building at all if it weren't for the urgency of the matter requiring his direct oversight.

"Of course," the woman said easily. "Please, have a seat and there will be someone to speak with you shortly."

The pair did so and Gabriel cast a disparaging eye over the waiting room. The magazines and posters they had available were trite, the chairs old, and there was a portrait of a very plain looking young girl hung against one wall. Thick glasses, red hair, and the words 'Our Founder' written below it in simple gold type.

Briefly, Gabriel wondered if that was who they'd speak to. He knew the receptionist recognized him, so they'd probably get someone high up on the totem pole at least. If not the founder, who else?

"Monsieur?" A thin blonde wearing black pants and a yellow T-shirt called for him. "I can see you now." Her eyes flicked to Nathalie. "Madame, you as well." Without waiting for their answer, she disappeared into the back, and they followed her into a comfortably lit office, seating themselves on a wide couch as the blonde offered a hand to both of them, in turn. "My name is Chloe Bourgeois. I'm glad you came here, today. I understand a friend of yours is having difficulties?" She sat down and clicked a pen, ready to begin writing on a pad.

She was young, certainly, no older than his son, probably, but he respected the professionalism. Nathalie opened her mouth to speak, but Gabriel decided to answer for himself in this instance. "One of my designers is under a lot of pressure working on the Winter line. I'm worried that it's getting to her. I wish I could give her time off, but this is a critical junction in the process and she is essential."

"Unless she's dealing with problems at home, time off would likely be highly detrimental to her right now. Designers take pride in their work, and trying to forcefully separate them from that often deals more damage than good. Is this an experienced designer?" Chloe asked, jotting down a few notes.

"She's qualified, but this is the first major fashion line she's been heavily involved in," he answered, sighing. It would be easier if he were planning to Akumatize her. At least then there'd be some good that came from the almost certainly soon to be ruined line. But, no, if Marinette became an Akuma, she'd probably go after him, and he didn't need any more disruptions.

"Does she do good work?" Chloe asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She's diligent, with a good eye for designs, and takes direction well. Beyond experience, there's little more I could ask from her." Gabriel said it emotionlessly. They were facts. That was all.

"If you want my advice, I would say compliment her work," Chloe announced, standing. "If she's a good worker, tell her so. She's inexperienced. Knowing her boss thinks she's doing a good job will take some of the edge off the stress." She walked over to her desk and picked up a business card, handing it to him, which he handed to Nathalie. "I'd also suggest you give her my card, if you want a more permanent fix. We're not a cure-all down here, but some of our clients think we do good work, and we've yet to have an Akuma breakdown in the office, so we have that going for us. Don't force her to come, but tell her to give it some thought, please. If she's under as much stress as you say, she probably needs someone to talk to. Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

Nathalie and Gabriel stood, inclining their heads in polite bows. "Yes, thank you. We appreciate your seeing us."

"If you'd like to make a charitable donation, you know where to find us," Chloe called as they left, and when the door shut behind them she laid down on the couch with her arm over her eyes. "Gabriel Agreste in my office talking about someone else's stress?" She scoffed, glad there was no one around to hear. "God, I want a drink," she groaned to the empty room.

After a few more moments rest, she stood, adjusted her clothing to look presentable and walked out to the lobby again, grabbing the proper clipboard on the way. "Madame? I can see you now." It was going to be a long day.

(:*:)

Marinette stared down at the card in her hand, then looked up at Nathalie once again. "I don't understand," she said, blankly.

Marinette's office wasn't small, but between all the fabric, mannequins and countless discarded and in progress designs, it was crowded. Still, Nathalie stood above it all like she was built for that very purpose. "Monsieur Agreste values your work quite highly. To have you burn out, Akuma or no Akuma, would be a senseless waste of talent."

She looked down at the card again, turning it over in her hands. It wasn't the first time she'd held one. A few years back, one of their counselors approached Ladybug and asked if she would provide them to victims after an attack, and she said yes. But having one handed to her as a civilian was another matter entirely. They thought she needed a therapist?

"We can't force you to go," Nathalie continued. "But would you at least consider it? For the sake of those around you, if not your own."

"I..." Marinette hesitated before finally nodding. "I'll think about it. Thank you."

Nathalie departed shortly thereafter, leaving Marinette alone in her office. When she was sure Nathalie was out of hearing, she slammed two fists down on a table. "Damnit," she shouted, then three times more until her hands ached. "Damnit, damnit, damnit."

"Marinette," Tikki called, coming out of her purse. "Please, you have to calm down."

"I'm this close, Tikki." Marinette held out her finger and thumb, less than an inch apart. "I got hired on by Gabriel Agreste, I worked my way through the ranks, I have a premier design for the Winter line. Why is this happening when I'm so close to making it as a designer?"

"You think this is just bad timing?" Tikki asked, disbelievingly.

"Isn't it?" Marinette shrugged.

"You've been stressed out for months trying to get these designs perfect," Tikki pointed out with a sigh. "Chat Noir already noticed, did you really think your boss wouldn't?"

"I'd kinda hoped..." Marinette pouted. "What should I do about it, though? I can't just take a week off and go to the beach."

"I think you should see a counselor," Tikki advised, sagely.

"What?" Marinette's brain came to a dead stop. "Tikki, I'm Ladybug, smiling, reassuring, flawless. I can't even be Akumatized, I-"

"You can," Tikki cut her off, sharply. "And you know that."

Marinette looked away, wrapping her arms around herself against a cold chill that wasn't really there. "Fine," she said eventually. "I'll see a counselor when I have the time."

"Pierre's still getting the fabric, right? Why don't you go now?" Tikki suggested, even if it sounded an awful lot like an order instead of a suggestion.

Marinette leveled a mild glare at the Kwami. "You're trouble, you know that?"

Tikki just shrugged. Grabbing her purse, and getting her hair back into messy pigtails so it wouldn't look completely like she'd just crawled out of bed, Marinette made her way downstairs and out into the streets of Paris toward Honeycomb Counseling.

She'd never been to the building before, so she was surprised how nondescript it was. Tucked away, with only the sign to tell people what it was, it had an enviable privacy.

Marinette groaned on the front steps. "Oh, Tikki. I don't wanna be here. This was a bad idea."

"What's wrong with talking to people about your problems?" Tikki asked, staying in the purse so she couldn't be seen. "It's supposed to relieve stress."

"I can't talk to people about my problems because half my problems are secret." She grabbed her forehead. "And you know I don't like lying to people, how is that going to relieve stress?"

"You could always just choose not to say something that makes you uncomfortable," a new voice suggested. "They're therapists; I'm pretty sure they'd understand that."

Marinette turned to see the new visitor. Razor-straight jet black hair, brown eyes, and a grey pantsuit with a dark purple tie. Marinette almost didn't recognize her. "Juleka?"

Juleka blinked, looking at her again. "Marinette?" She said with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette jumped forward and hugged her, as was her typical response for seeing old friends again. "Oh my god, you look great. When did you stop dyeing your hair?"

"Who says I stopped?" Juleka smirked, pulling a blacklight out of her bag and shining it on her hair, revealing whorling patterns and shapes dyed there, normally invisible. She clicked the light off, and once more her hair seemed a natural black. "I just made it a little more work-friendly."

"Oh, where are you working?" Besides Alya, Nino, and Adrien, Marinette had not been excellent at following up with what her classmates did after high school. In fact, she'd even go so far as to say they'd almost completely dropped off her radar after that.

"I'm a chemist at Parfum Rosales," she said easily, and Marinette's eyebrows shot up. Even amongst other perfume companies, that was not an easy one to get into. "I love the work, but it can be a bit overwhelming, especially since I just got promoted which includes a ton more responsibilities."

Marinette gestured to the building. "Hence, Honeycomb, right?"

"Yep," Juleka popped the 'P'. "I've been coming here for years and it's really helped me through a lot." She nudged Marinette in the shoulder, smiling. "Wish there was one of these when we were growing up, huh?"

Marinette laughed, weakly. "Yeah."

Juleka frowned. "Come on, I'll introduce you to whichever counselor's on duty, today. I know 'em all by now."

Marinette waved her arms in front of her. "Oh, no. I don't think-"

Juleka grabbed her hand and started pulling her inside, ignoring her protests. "Come on. You always helped me when we were kids, now it's my turn."

They burst into the office, thankfully empty save for the girl at the front desk and Juleka practically carried Marinette over to her, smiling genially at the woman despite the kidnapping victim in her grasp. "Hey, Mandy. Who's on staff today?"

Marinette tried pulling her hand out from Juleka's iron grip, to no avail. "Why. Are. You. So. Strong?" She said between pulls before finally giving up, breathing heavily. "Aren't chemists supposed to be nerds?"

"Tell that to all the fifty pound barrels of chemicals I have to lug around all day," she said with a shrug. "Manufacturing gets machines, but I work down in testing. Sorry, Marinette, you're not getting out of this one."

Marinette was just weighing the benefits of sawing off her hand to escape versus transforming into Ladybug, revealing her secret identity, then using her super strength to escape, when Juleka began moving toward the office door.

"Thanks, Mandy," she called back to the woman at the desk, then swatted Marinette on the shoulder. "Could you relax? It's gonna be fine. God, you're worse than Rose whenever I drag her here."

They made it into the office and Juleka deposited her into a sinfully soft armchair that Marinette found herself sinking into against her will.

"Sorry about the fuss, Doctor B." Juleka apologized. "She was freaking out by the front door, I figured it'd be better to just get her in here."

"Thanks, Juleka, but in the future could you try not to abduct young women off the street? I would prefer not to make explanations to the police, and Rose probably won't appreciate it." The exasperated therapist outlined, rubbing her eyes with glasses in hand.

Juleka rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed. "Yeah, didn't really think of that." She turned to Marinette with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I've been trying to take more direct action in my life to help people, but I guess I took it a bit far, huh?"

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean you're not right," Marinette admitted. "I have been under a lot of stress, and I should try this, even if I'm not sure you can help me, Doctor... B, was it?"

Juleka's expression brightened. "Oh, yeah, Marinette, this is Doctor Chloe Bourgeois."

Marinette sat bolt upright in her chair. "Chloe?"

The Doctor's face was amused as she played with a pen, capping and uncapping it slowly. "Dupain-Cheng," she said with an emotion Marinette couldn't decipher. "It's been a while."

(:*:)

Of course it was Dupain-Cheng. Gabriel Agreste left his design studio during a critical time in the process for his new line because he was worried for one of his workers and of course it was Dupain-Cheng. Juleka Couffaine, normally a very level-headed young woman treated a visitor to the office with the same familiarity as her fiancee and of course it was Dupain-Cheng. It was always Dupain-Cheng.

Chloe's smile was plastic as Juleka left to wait in the next room. "So, I understand you're under a lot of pressure at work?"

"Chloe, we haven't seen each other in years and that's all you have to say?" Marinette said, clearly agitated. If they were back in school, Chloe might have derived some satisfaction from the state, but now it just made her tired.

"I'm sorry, oftentimes my clients want to get right to business," she took a moment before starting over, pushing everything personal to the back of her mind before flashing a bright smile. "Marinette, I haven't seen you since highschool, and Gabriel Agreste comes out into public, walks into my office and says he's worried about you? I don't know how your designs must be at this point, but I can see you haven't lost that famous Dupain-Cheng charisma. How's Alya?"

To say Marinette was thrown by the shift in demeanor was an understatement. If anyone else had done it, she would have been thrown, Chloe doing it metaphorically smashed her against the wall and threw her out the window. "Uh... Alya's fine," she eventually managed, her brain click-click-clicking away to no obvious result.

"When was the last time you talked to her?" Chloe asked, idly, leaning back in her chair.

Marinette did a quick bit of math. "Eight months ago?" She cringed, actually saying it out loud felt awful. "We've been really busy with our jobs."

"You've always been a hard worker," Chloe commented, her voice lacking the judgement Marinette was expecting to hear after basically admitting she'd ditched her best friend. "Do you like your job?"

"Oh, it's incredible. Everything I've ever wanted is there, the facilities, the fabric, Gabriel Agreste even gives me advice and notes on my designs. I couldn't ask for a better job," she gushed.

"But it's also stressful?" Chloe asked, and Marinette sunk down further into the sofa.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "It's... how can I say this?" She put a hand to her chin, biting her lip for a minute as she thought, and Chloe didn't interrupt. "Well, I love this job; I really do, and I have to be perfect while I'm doing it, but that's fine. That's what I signed up for. It's just, I have this other thing I do, and it's kind of like a job, and it's really important and I have to be perfect at that, too."

Marinette sighed, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw spots. "Before, I could manage it, but as I get farther in designing, and my hours get longer and longer, I'm worried. I know I can't be perfect every hour of the day, I just can't. But messing up in my job means I might lose the career I've been dreaming of since I was a little girl, and messing up in the other thing could be even worse." She groaned. "I don't want to lose either of them, either side of me. So what should I do?"

Chloe put the cap back on her pen with a snap, breathed in deeply and began talking. "I can see you love both of these jobs quite a lot and you take pride in your work. I can also see how terrified you are of failing in either of these jobs, and while fear of failure isn't necessarily bad, it sounds like you've constructed setbacks in these jobs in your mind as something akin to the end of the world. Let me pass along a bit of advice that was given to me: 'anyone can make mistakes; what matters is how you fix them.'"

The quote rattled in Marinette's brain, sounding familiar but not quite fitting anywhere. "Who told you that?" She asked.

"Ladybug," Chloe answered, expression far away for a moment before she returned to the matter at hand. "And I actually truncated the quote, a bit. What she really said was, 'anyone can make mistakes, even superheroes. What matters is how you fix them.' So if Paris' finest superhero can afford a few flubs, why don't you cut yourself a little more slack?"

Marinette's brain stuttered to a stop at those words, the click-click-clicking going silent. After a moment, her mouth opened and, "you really think Ladybug is Paris' finest superhero?" Was all she could say.

"No, I think Ladybug is the world's finest superhero," Chloe elaborated with a smirk. "But that tends to start more arguments, so I usually say Paris."

Marinette laughed, but after a moment the action warped into a sob and she found herself crying, uncontrollably.

There was a shuffle, and a moment later she felt Chloe's arms wrap around her, squeezing her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's okay, alright? You're okay. You're all good." Chloe mumbled similar assurances in her ear, sometimes repeating, never rising above a soft whisper as Marinette cried herself out.

"Sorry," Marinette croaked, throat dry, and Chloe dashed off for a second, retrieving a box of tissues and a glass of water.

"I'll tell you what: as soon as you do something bad, I'll let you say sorry," Chloe chided, handing the two objects over.

"Thanks, Chloe." She drank the water in big gulps, choking on one and spluttering water over herself she dabbed at with a tissue. "Oh, god. I'm such a freaking mess."

Chloe put Marinette's usage of 'freaking' on the backburner for a moment, focusing on the problem at hand. "So you're not perfect. The world hasn't ended, you haven't lost your job, or your almost-job, and no one's gotten hurt."

Marinette looked around the room, eyes widened in fear for a moment, before centering on Chloe again. "There's no Akuma."

"It'd be a pretty sorry Akuma prevention office otherwise," Chloe answered, dryly.

Marinette relaxed. "I still can't believe it's you." Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, eyes wide again when she realized she'd said it out loud.

Chloe folded her arms across her chest, one eyebrow raised. "Now you can say sorry." Marinette waved her arms in front of her, stammering apologies when Chloe laughed. "I'm joking, you're totally fine. Sometimes it's hard to believe, myself."

"What... happened?" Marinette shook her head. "I'm sorry. That was rude."

"You're really not keeping up with this 'when you do something bad, I'll let you say sorry,' thing, huh?" She gave a half shrug. "Nothing 'happened' we just grew up. You got your dream job designing, and I got this," Chloe gestured to the office around them.

"I guess I just expected you to be mayor or something," Marinette admitted.

"Or maybe head of a fashion magazine?" Chloe asked, rhetorically. "Not everyone grows up to be their parents, Marinette, and honestly I'm glad I didn't. Besides, I would've made a terrible mayor."

"Why?" Marinnete couldn't help but ask.

Chloe tapped the side of her head with a wan smile. "I got a bug in my brain, Dupain-Cheng. It wouldn't have been good."

There was something in the way she said it that made Marinette shiver. The tone was warm, but the feeling was a blistering cold, like there was no emotion behind it at all.

Chloe checked her wristwatch, moving to stand. "We've probably made Juleka wait long enough," she remarked, extending a hand and helping Marinette to her feet. "It's important for you to know that you will mess up from time to time, and that's okay. In the meantime, I'd also advise you carve some time aside from your responsibilities to be with your family and friends. It'll be easier for you not to strain so hard to be perfect in these lower pressure environments." They walked out the door into the waiting room, where Juleka was still patiently waiting. "If you have any more questions, you're feeling overwhelmed, or just need someone to talk to, the office is open twenty-four hours; please come by again."

"Thanks, Chloe," Marinette said, already feeling better after the talk and the cry. "You've really helped me a whole lot. I appreciate it."

"Our door is always open," she said with a courteous smile.

Marinette thanked her again, then Juleka, and the woman at the front desk before leaving, a spring in her step that wasn't there before.

Chloe turned to Juleka. "I'll be ready in one minute, just going to tidy up one or two things, alright?" Juleka answered in the affirmative and Chloe walked back into her office and carefully shut the door.

The tissues Marinette had been using were thrown in the trash, and the box replaced on Chloe's desk. The cup, she took in the bathroom and carefully rinsed out and dried before also placing it on her desk.

There was a drop of water left, even after drying, and she watched it slowly creep down the side of the glass. Her mouth felt dry, her palms felt itchy, still she watched the drop.

'What happened?' Marinette's words echoed in her head.

'I guess I just expected you to be mayor or something.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry.'

Chloe threw the glass against the wall, watching it shatter.

A minute passed. Two. Finally, she forcefully leveled her breathing, adjusted her outfit once again and opened the door. "Juleka? Sorry about the wait, come on in. I understand you got promoted recently? Congratulations, how do you feel?"

The door clicked shut behind them, not an Akuma in sight.

Chapter Text

By the time a week had passed, the visit from Dupain-Cheng had all but faded from Chloe's memory. There had been four more Akuma attacks, which meant not only some of those new victims, but also a host of old ones, their memories spurred by the latest villainous plot, had decided to come by the office.

Dupain-Cheng was a one-off, a fluke. These Akuma attacks inevitably happened every week. It was no wonder Chloe had nearly forgotten about it by the time Alya walked in.

Alya's sneakers never matched the rest of her. She wore a professional button up with a jacket and tie, a skirt in the same color, and her hair was tied into a clean bun instead of the messy waves from her school days. But her sneakers were muddy, the colors faded to a dull gray, and the rough knots that tied the laces together were a testament to function over form.

She looked nice. It was a far sight better than plaid, at the very least, but aside from the sneakers, her appearance didn't match her personality. Alya was dirty, Alya was daring, Alya was the definition of function over form, but Alya was also a reporter. The dress code was enforced.

She sank into the couch, lying down as Chloe prepared a fresh page in her notepad.

"You seem distressed," she observed. "I hope you weren't hurt in the attacks."

Alya waved a hand. "A few scratches, maybe, nothing serious. I... do you remember Lady Wifi?"

She did, though there was no particular reason she should have. Alya's Akumatized form was only one of many who had attempted to kill her. "Do you?"

"No, I don't," she said quickly, rising halfway off the couch before forcing herself to lie down again. "But, this last Akuma, Darkan Stormy?"

"Those names are getting worse," Chloe muttered to herself, taking notes.

"It was this writer who had his work rejected by a publisher. He wasn't even really a threat, Ladybug and Chat Noir took him down just fine, but there was this thing he did where he'd teleport from one book to another..." Alya bit her lip, her eyes closed in remembrance. "I still don't remember being Akumatized, and there isn't even a lot of footage I can work from since, well, 'I' wasn't there to film it. But when I saw him do that, teleporting between books I just thought, 'I did that.'" She laughed, hollowly. "It's pretty stupid, getting so worked up over something that happened when I was just a kid, huh?"

"You are a reporter," Chloe observed. "Your dream job. Do you really think without the Ladyblog, you would have gotten the position?"

"Probably not," Alya admitted.

"What you do now matters, but what you've done before matters too. It's these events in our lives that build us into the people we become, for better or worse. Wondering what you were as an Akuma, what you'd done, I don't think it's stupid at all." Chloe finished the note she was writing with a flourish of her pen. "But it doesn't really matter what I think. What do you think?"

She sighed, eyes opening, and shifted her legs so she could sit up and look Chloe in the eye. "I guess it's not stupid. But what am I supposed to do? Even if I did remember, there's nothing I could do to take it back. I just have to live with it."

"You feel like it's your fault?"

"Of course it's my fault," Alya shouted. "I let Hawkmoth get into my head. I went after you, and Ladybug, and Chat Noir. What part of that isn't my fault?"

Chloe hummed, considering for a few moments. "Well, it definitely could be your fault. After all, you did let Hawkmoth into your head, and you took a picture of the inside of my locker that got you suspended. There's also a good argument it was my fault, one I'm sure Ladybug and Chat Noir have made over the years. I was the one who got you suspended, after all. It could be Nino's fault for distracting me, or Principal Damocles for bending to the will of a teenager, or my father's for giving me so much power over others. Taking another step back, it could be Ladybug and Chat Noir's fault for not simply surrendering their Miraculouses sooner."

"It is not Ladybug or Chat Noir's fault," she said, decisively. "They can't give their Miraculouses to Hawkmoth, he's evil. He-"

"Turns innocent civilians against them?" Chloe finished for her. "Innocent civilians like you?"

Alya gaped, struck dumb by the question.

"If I were Hawkmoth, I'd have figured out by now that the odds of any single Akuma beating Ladybug and Chat Noir at this point were pretty low, but I'd keep making them anyway because the more people focus on how long it's been, how long it's going to be. The more they think about their pain or how little they can trust their own feelings, the more pressure gets put on Ladybug." Her pen clicked, sheathing the point and she gripped both ends, peering over it at Alya. "If you could stop the Akuma attacks right now, would you?"

"Of course," she answered, quickly.

"According to Hawkmoth, Ladybug and Chat Noir have that power. At any time, they could surrender their Miraculouses and the attacks would end." Chloe privately enjoyed the way Alya jumped out of her seat, outraged, but she didn't let any of it show on her face.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir are the only ones protecting us from Hawkmoth. Take away their Miraculouses and he can do whatever he wants to the city, to the world, even. I can't believe you-" Chloe interrupted her before the rant could get out of hand.

"Alya, I agree with you."

Alya's words stuttered to a stop. "You do?"

Chloe chuckled, lightly. "Of course I do. Hawkmoth is a terrorist, and once he realizes he can get one thing through the threat of Akumas, he'll never stop." She stood and walked over to Layla, laying a hand on her shoulder. "But when people are in pain, they don't always think clearly. They lash out, blame others," she gave Alya a pointed look. "Blame themselves, even when they shouldn't."

Alya was silent, considering the words for a while as she sat back down on the couch. When she felt the silence had stretched far enough, Chloe retook her chair and spoke again.

"So, you've been coming here for almost two years and this is the first time you've actually talked about Lady Wifi. Why now?" Chloe asked, clicking her pen once more.

Alya hesitated, before eventually mumbling. "Nino and I are taking a break." When Chloe didn't respond, she gave a halfhearted shrug. "I guess since then, I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me, and when I saw Darkan Stormy do that trick with the books, I thought I figured it out."

"Getting Akumatized isn't wrong," Chloe said, gently. "Having feelings isn't wrong."

"I know." She sighed. "It's just, sometimes I'm so worried about getting Akumatized again, I wish I couldn't feel anything."

"It's always better to feel something." Chloe's voice was forceful, brokering no argument. "Besides, I trust Ladybug enough to stop you, even if worst comes to worst."

Alya laughed, wiping her eyes of unshed tears. "Thanks, Doctor B."

The session ended a few minutes later, and Chloe walked out of her office with Alya, locking the door behind her before coming face to face with Dupain-Cheng.

"Oh, Alya, hi," she said, awkwardly. "I left you a voicemail, last week. Did you get it?"

Alya slapped her forehead. "Oh, god, Marinette. I completely spaced. Yeah, I got it, and yes we should totally meet up. Sorry about that."

Marinette waved a hand. "It's no big, really. Sorry I kind of disappeared for a while, there."

Yes, yes. We're all sorry. All very sorry, Chloe managed not to say out loud in as sarcastic a tone as possible as she began shimmying past the two girls in the tight hall.

"Oh, Chloe, I actually wanted to see you," Marinette said before the blonde could fully escape.

"I'm actually on my way to a meeting right now, but there's another counselor in that office there named Soren O'Brien, who can help you as soon as he's done seeing the person with him now." Chloe gave her a courteous smile as Marinette's face fell the tiniest amount.

"Okay, sorry. I didn't even realize counselors had meetings together." Marinette scratched the back of her neck, embarrassed.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. Was she serious? This was Marinette she was talking about, of course she was serious. "It's not a counselor meeting, but I appreciate your understanding." She finally managed to extricate herself from the conversation and leave, though she heard Marinette quietly ask herself.

"What kind of meeting is it, then?" And Chloe could only shake her head at her former classmate's antics.

Same old Marinette, she thought. You haven't changed a bit. Chloe slid her keys into her car's ignition and drove away.

(:*:)

Adrien Agreste had practiced many things. From an early age, his affluent father had gifted him a great many hobbies and tutors in the hope that the growing boy would occupy himself doing something productive rather than grow lazy in his absence.

Fencing, piano, rock climbing, modeling, as well as a variety of skills for entertaining and being a proper French gentleman, were all provided courtesy of his father.

On his own, he managed to acquire other skills his father approved of far less: making friends, real friends instead of the schmoozing of political allies his father stressed, being a superhero, which his father did not and would not ever know about if Adrien had anything to say about it, and of most importance at that moment, sneaking away from his bodyguards.

He had a photoshoot in fifteen minutes, he'd already decided to skip. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, and not an Akuma attack in sight, but every once and a while he got bored and decided to skive off whatever responsibilities he'd had thrust upon him that day. Of course, lately, 'every once in a while,' was becoming more and more often.

Adrien smiled from the back of a double decker tour bus he'd jumped on only a few moments before, looking out the window at his frazzled assistant and annoyed bodyguard. He'd gotten awfully good at slipping away by that point. All it took was a moment. "Well, Plagg. We're out on the town again. What do you want to do?"

The Kwami peeked out from his jacket, putting a paw in front of his mouth and yawning. "You know, it was cute the first couple times, but now it's starting to get pathetic."

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Plagg," Adrien chastised, getting off the bus and walking into the streets of Paris.

"Talk to your father," Plagg pressed, groaning. "It's like you humans are allergic to confrontation."

"If my father has a problem with what I'm doing, he can come and talk to me, himself," Adrien answered with no small amount of venom. "Now, in the meantime, we've got the whole city of Paris to explore. What do you think, a club?"

"What clubs are you expecting to be open at eleven-thirty in the morning?" Plagg asked, dryly.

Adrien shrugged. "We could always just transform and jump around the city for a while."

Plagg snuggled into his jacket pocket and went to sleep, communicating what he thought of that idea quite clearly.

"Be that way," Adrien mumbled, walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

He passed bakeries and groceries, antique stores and office buildings, art galleries and hotels. This was Paris, to him; this life of all the people walking by, all with their own dreams and wishes, not the constant socializing and modeling his father demanded.

Adrien's mood soured and, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he walked some more.

He only got a few blocks down the road when a cry from a nearby alley attracted his attention. "Wake up, Plagg," he whispered skulking closer. "It might be hero time."

"What's your name?" A woman's voice crawled from the alley, calm, and sickeningly sweet, but with a dangerous edge.

There was another cry of pain before a man answered. "Norman, it's Norman. My name is Norman Travers, god, please let me go."

"Do you have friends, Norman? Little crime buddies that try to mug people in alleys? How about you tell me their names next." It wasn't a question. It was a command.

Adrien peeked his head around the corner, trying to get a look at the scene. A woman was kneeling over a man lying flat on the ground, one arm pinned beneath him, the other twisted around his back. With every delay in answering, she twisted the arm further, until it was on the verge of breaking.

"I don't know nobody," Norman protested, then cried out again as she put more pressure on the arm.

"That's a double negative, Norman. Now is not the time to be ridiculous," she chastised, and Adrien blinked.

Ridiculous?

"Chloe?" He didn't even realize he'd said it out loud until the woman's head shot up and she shot him a bashful smile.

"Adrikins," she chirped, dropping the arm and letting the would-be mugger recover for a few moments. "Give me a hand, would you? There's a police car just down the road."

Already feeling out of his depth, Adrien numbly complied, helping her tie her victim's hands and legs with zip ties she just happened to have, and carrying him on his back, fireman style, toward the direction she indicated. Chloe, meanwhile, took out a handkerchief and picked up a switchblade off the ground, Adrien guessed 'Norman' had used to try and frighten her.

"It's incredible the utter state Paris has gotten into nowadays, don't you think?" Chloe commented as they left the alley, hopefully toward some manner of law enforcement.

Adrien raised an eyebrow, worriedly. "Chloe, are you alright? What you did back there seemed kind of extreme."

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't be ridiculous, Adrien. I was simply performing my civic duty." Her eyes flicked over to him. "No escort, today?"

"I might have sneaked off?" he gave an embarrassed grin.

She passed him a business card. "Give your assistant one of these. It sounds like she needs it."

His expression fell when he read it. "Honeycomb. I didn't know you worked there, now."

"Someone has to," she said, hollowly.

Adrien shifted the position of the man on his back. "I'm sorry about what hap-"

"Drop it," Chloe snapped. "I'm not in the mood."

They walked in silence until they reached the police car, looking through the windows to find it empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Adrien commented.

"Christ, Chlo, I leave you for two minutes and you come back with a kidnapping victim?" A new voice called out, walking across the street towards them, carrying a box from the bakery they were just inside.

Chloe examined her nails, giving a half shrug. "Is it my fault if Paris is crawling with criminals?"

The police officer was shorter than both of them, with short-cut red hair and bright blue eyes. "Criminal?" She turned to face Norman. "You tried to mug her?"

"Please, take me in, I'll go to jail, or whatever, just don't leave me with her. She's crazy," he pleaded with the officer and she rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers, annoyed.

"How could you have possibly gotten mugged in the time it took me to buy eclairs?" She asked Chloe, already defeated by the situation.

"Just doing my part for a safer Paris," she replied, giving a faux-salute and big smile like she was in an ad campaign.

The officer grumbled, sliding Norman into the back of the car.

"You two know each other?" Adrien ventured, hoping to get at least some answers.

The officer actually turned to look at him for the first time. "Adrien Agreste?" He felt his stomach clench as he waited for the inevitable freakout or autograph request. "How've you been? I haven't seen you since high school."

He squinted his eyes at the officer, helplessly, before Chloe came to his rescue. "I don't think he's seen you without dyed hair, Alix."

Adrien looked again. Alix, blue eyes, dyed hair, from high school... "Alix Kubdel?" He asked, disbelievingly.

"Should I be offended by that reaction?" She said aloud, to no one in particular.

"Not worth it," Chloe advised.

Alix shrugged, grinning at the still-confused Adrien. "Anyway, you got me. Guess I look a little different in uniform, huh?"

"If I'm being honest, I never thought you'd wear one," Adrien admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's crooked," Chloe said, deadpan.

Alix slapped her arm. "Brat." She turned to Adrien, hurriedly assuring him. "I'm not, for the record. Chloe just sucks at jokes."

"Anyone's sense of humor would suffer after they'd just been mugged," Chloe answered, melodramatically. Then her voice became deadpan again as she handed over her wrapped handkerchief. "This is the knife he used, by the way."

Adrien's eyes narrowed when he saw dots of red covering the white cloth. "Chloe, turn around."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He got you, didn't he?" Chloe was a good liar, and it seemed she'd gotten even better. But even when they were kids, she couldn't fool him.

She knew it, too. "It's a scratch."

"If it was a scratch, you'd have already shown it to me," he countered, taking a step forward.

Alix's hand fell on his shoulder, stopping him. "I'll take her to the hospital, alright? No need to get upset."

Upset? Adrien shook his head. He wasn't upset. But he was sweating. He could feel himself shaking. Looking down, he saw red marks on his palms where he'd clenched his hands into fists so tightly his nails had dug into the skin. How did he get this way so quickly, without even realizing it?

He forced a laugh. "Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away." It sounded fake, even to him.

"We were just about to have lunch," Alix offered. "Do you want to come with, after we get Chloe looked at?"

He was tired, but he couldn't think of any reason to say no. "Sure."

Alix nodded once, sharply, placed the knife in an evidence bag, went through the criminal's rights, and asked Adrien to wait in the bakery for their return from the hospital and police station.

"Plagg," he whispered, crossing the street. "What just happened?"

"Do you mean besides freaking out when you realized Chloe got stabbed?" Plagg asked back. "What's the matter? I thought it was normal for humans to get worked up over stuff like that."

Adrien shook his head, feeling a tightness in his chest. "Forget about it. I'm probably just a bit stressed, that's all."

He walked into the bakery, hearing the bell jangle to herald his entrance. It was nice, well cared for, if a little empty-seeming. It wasn't without customers. Far from it, the place seemed fairly popular, but there was a stillness to the air that unsettled him, somehow.

This place has changed.

The thought came to him, unbidden, and he found himself looking around again, with a new eye. Had he really been there before?

"Monsieur?" The girl at the counter called, looking right at him. "Can I help you?"

"C-coffee," he stuttered, moving to the counter. "With cream, and a croissant, please."

His hands were still shaking when he went to pay the bill.

Stop shaking, he commanded.

He sat down at an empty table in the corner as the girl brought his coffee and pastry.

Stop shaking, he ordered.

People were starting to stare. There were whispers as he was recognized. He burned his hand on the coffee when he tried to pick up the cup.

Stop shaking, he asked.

His eyes slid around the room, at the furniture, at the walls, trying to remember when he'd been there before, but he couldn't. A few of the patrons began taking photos, their smartphones flashing in his eyes.

Stop shaking, he pleaded.

One of them stood, walking toward him with her camera raised. She moved with slow, deliberate steps, the practiced art of a journalist. "Excuse me, are you Adrien Agreste?"

He ran.

(:*:)

Marinette was just leaving Honeycomb when Tikki flew out of her bag. "Chat Noir is trying to call you. It must be urgent."

Marinette squared her shoulders, running into an alley, shouting, "Tikki, spots on." A few moments later, it was Ladybug who ran out of it, swinging onto a rooftop and opening her yoyo. "Chat, what's going on?"

"Can you meet me on the Arc de Triomphe?" He asked, voice clearly strained. "No Akuma, I just... really need your help."

She wanted to ask more questions, but she only gave a stiff nod instead. "I'll be there in five." She closed the yoyo and swung it again, already plotting her swift route to the monument.

Four and a half minutes of high-speed rooftop traveling later, she was on the famous arch, setting down right beside an almost manic-looking Chat. If he truly were a cat, she'd be worried he'd gone feral.

"Ladybug." He jumped to his feet. "Man, am I glad to see you." His legs suddenly wobbled and he fell to his knees. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Hey, hey, it's okay." She helped him sit down again, and did the same beside him. "What happened?"

"A friend of mine got hurt by a mugger. It probably wasn't even that bad, but she wouldn't show it to me, and I didn't even realize how upset I was getting. I tried to laugh it off, go somewhere else, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking." They were shaking, even then. "You can set everything that happens during an Akuma attack right again, but all it takes is a knife in an alley to do something irreversible. What kind of superheroes are we if we can't even protect our friends?" He laughed, bitterly. "What kind of superhero am I if I can't even stop my hands from shaking?"

Ladybug didn't have an answer.

A cold breeze brushed past them, and he shivered. "I don't want to become an Akuma, but I don't know how to stop it."

Ladybug put her hand over his, their fingers lacing together. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here, right?" She gave a confident smile. "You're not going to get Akumatized today."

He managed a tentative smile in return and held out his other hand for her to similarly grab, the shaking quieting under her gentle grip.

"We'll make mistakes," she soothed gently, repeating the sentiment Chloe had given her right when she'd needed it most. "We'll screw up, and sometimes that means people get hurt. That's the cost of being human. But no matter how many times we mess up, fall down, fail, we will always save the day. We have to. That's the cost of being a superhero."

"What if I wasn't a superhero? What if I took the ring off right now and threw it as far away as I could?" She squeezed his hands tighter, knowing he'd never do it.

"A knife in an alley is the same either way." Chat stiffened at her words for a moment, then sighed.

"The cost of being a superhero, huh?" He asked, and she nodded, smiling.

"Hey, Chat?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"Your hands aren't shaking anymore." Her expression was so pure, so happy, he couldn't help but smile back.

"I love you, Ladybug," he whispered.

She slowly released her fingers, lying down on her back, the Arc de Triomphe her only cushion. "I know, Chat."

They stayed there for a while, until Chat's grumbling stomach and Ladybug's pressing need to return to her work forced them to part once again.

She was swinging through the air again, feeling the wind rustle her hair, going so fast she could hardly see. It was so close to flying, she never got bored of it. Every throw of the yoyo, every landing to the next roof and the next and the next, happened almost on automatic. More than anything else, it gave her time to think.

Why was this happening now? They hadn't fought anyone particularly strong or personal of late, at least on her end. But Nathalie had practically begged her to go to Honeycomb, and now Chat had a meltdown? Had they just been doing this too long, or could this be the work of an Akuma they didn't even know existed?

Now that was a scary thought.

If she'd never gone to Honeycomb, if Chat had called her and she didn't have the words to make him calm down, the results could have been disastrous. She didn't want to even imagine what an Akumatized Chat would be like.

On the other hand, if she'd never gone to Honeycomb, maybe she'd have ended up the one Akumatized. She'd be the first to admit her mental state only a week before had been more... fragile than was healthy.

A frown stole its way across her face.

Soren O'Brien was good at his job, clearly, but her session with him left her dissatisfied, nonetheless. He kept asking questions, making random segues, while she was trying to explain, and it was hard enough putting her words in order without being interrupted. With Chloe, she already knew things about her without even needing to ask. She knew about Alya, and Adrien, and her dreams of being a fashion designer. She knew about the constant Akuma attacks and how it just wore away at everyone until it felt like sometimes people got Akumatized cause they just couldn't take it anymore. Chloe understood.

But why was it Chloe? The question bothered her, still. Chloe was petty. Chloe was mean. Chloe was only ever interested in herself. So why was Chloe a therapist? More than that, why was she a therapist for Akuma prevention when it seemed like, in school, she spent almost as much time making Akumas as Hawkmoth?

Then there was her response when she'd asked why she wouldn't have been a good mayor. 'I've got a bug in my brain, Dupain-Cheng,' she'd said. What did that mean?

Ladybug landed on an alley fire escape, transforming back into Marinette. "Too many questions," she mumbled.

Tikki floated lazily around her head. Using Lucky Charm always took the most out of the Kwami, but transforming at all took its toll. "Questions about what?"

"Chloe," Marinette answered, absently.

"Why?" Tikki asked.

Marinette groaned. "Because she makes no sense. How can a person change that much, Tikki? I don't understand it."

Tikki laughed, the high pitched tone sounding like a wind chime. "A lot of things don't make sense, Marinette. Why worry about this?"

She was right. Tikki usually was. But Marinette couldn't let it go because, "Chloe never makes sense," she protested, like Tikki could somehow fix it. "Even when we were kids, I never understood why she was mean to me, mean to everyone, why even Akuma after Akuma, she never stopped, and now? She's the complete opposite. All that money, all that family influence and she's sitting in a tiny office helping people. Is there something I'm missing, Tikki?"

"Maybe she finally realized all the pain she had caused people, and wanted to help them instead," Tikki offered, brightly.

Marinette was unconvinced. "Maybe..."

They walked out of the alley as Marinette checked her phone, blinking at all the missed calls and messages. She called her mom back first, heart pounding with worry.

The phone rang a few times before Sabine picked up. "Marinette, where were you?"

"I was at work, mama, what happened?" Her mother's voice sounded concerned, never a good sign.

"That friend of yours, Adrien, was at the bakery today. I was just about to come out of the back and see him when he ran out. Have you talked to him at all recently? I must say, he did not look well." Sabine's voice was crisp and clear through the phone's speakers, her smartphone being one of the few things Marinette had splurged on, but the words were garbled in her brain.

The truth was, she hadn't talked to Adrien in years. They'd drifted apart, just like she had with everyone else. What had happened to all her relationships? All those friends she swore she'd never forget?

Marinette shook her head. She had other problems at the moment.

Adrien in the bakery. Why? And him not looking well could mean anything from a stomachache to a head injury. She loved her mother, but Sabine had a habit of being vague. "No, but I'll call him now. Thanks for the heads up, mama." They exchanged a quick goodbye and Marinette swiped through her contacts until she found the elusive Adrien Agreste one, clicking into it to call.

It rang, and rang, then rang some more. "Hey, you've reached Adrien Agreste. I'm probably at a shoot right now, but if you leave a message I'll be sure to get back to you," his voicemail responded. There was a beep and a message his inbox was full before she hung up the phone.

Looking at her missed calls again, Marinette clicked on Alya's name.

She picked up on the first ring. "Marinette, have you talked to Adrien yet?"

That wasn't good. She recognized that tone as Alya's reporter voice. "What happened?"

"What happened was that he had a major meltdown in your parent's bakery. I've been trying to get a hold of him, but there's a good chance he's already gone Akuma." Marinette winced at the words. Alya was never one to pull punches, but that was particularly brutal. "I'm still waiting to get beeped, but if there's an Akuma called 'The Modeler' or 'Catwalker' we've got a pretty good idea what we're dealing with."

Marinette felt her stomach clench. Even after all this time, it was hard fighting people she knew. She didn't know about Chat, whether it was some quirk of the Miraculous magic or not, but while most people only saw the monster when faced with an Akuma, she saw more. No matter how twisted their appearance became, how monstrous or deformed, Marinette could always tell who it was.

"I'll keep calling him," she assured Alya, hanging up the phone.

She tried calling him four more times on the way to her design studio, eventually turning the ringer up as loud as it would go in case he called her back. She arrived in the building, showed her ID card at the front, and set back to work on the Winter line. After a few minutes sitting in silence, she also turned on the small television she had in the corner, flipping it to the news before returning to work.

Hours passed. No Akuma. No phone call.

Marinette slept, a roll of fabric her blanket as the quiet voice of the television washed over her.

(:*:)

The light from the open door filtered into the otherwise pitch black apartment as Chloe and Alix walked in.

"Some day, huh?" Alix enthused, flicking on a light switch.

"It always is," Chloe agreed. She took off her coat and hung it up, before throwing herself onto the couch, picking up a remote and turning the TV on.

"Milk?" Alix asked.

"Fridge."

"Whiskey?"

"Hilarious," Chloe deadpanned. And Alix thought her jokes weren't funny.

Alix returned from the fridge, milk in hand, and found a spinny chair to sit in, drinking from the carton.

Chloe didn't even need to look away from the TV to say, "that's disgusting."

Alix scoffed, genially. "Like you even drink milk."

Chloe only hummed, vaguely, in response, not refuting it.

"Who do you think Adrien talked to, to make him calm down that much?" Alix asked, taking another swig of milk.

"Who cares?" Chloe shot back. Alix had seen her without the mask enough times, she didn't feel the need to pretend as much around her, especially so close to the end of the day. "Dupain-Cheng, probably," Chloe said after a minute. She didn't care, but the answer was obvious enough

"Pssh, no way." Alix waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "No girl can hold a torch for a guy that long, even if he is a supermodel. And I know they're not dating."

Chloe sighed, attention still focused on the television. It was some random cooking show, Halloween themed, so she knew it was a rerun. "Is there a reason they couldn't just be friends?"

Alix clicked her tongue. "The only chance of that would be if she were dating someone else right now. Do you know if she is?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Shockingly, I don't keep track of Dupain-Cheng's love life."

"You know, you could call her Marinette like literally everyone else," Alix pointed out.

"I could do a lot of things." Chloe turned off the TV. "That doesn't mean I'm going to."

Alix slid the milk back into the fridge as Chloe stood and stretched. "You mind if I crash on the couch tonight?"

Chloe waved a hand, walking into the next room. "Use the cover."

Alix fixed the couch cover over her impromptu bed. It was in the same place it was last time. Chloe was nothing if not organized. Well, there were always exceptions.

She walked into the room Chloe was, hugging her arms to herself as she looked at all the pictures pinned to the walls. Some were drawings, sketches going from rough to crisper and clearer through their endless repetition. Others were photographs, snippets taken from news or amateur blogs. Akumas, butterflies, Hawkmoth. It was like Chloe had built a shrine, this whole room dedicated to one man. The only thing not about him was a computer and printer up against one wall, with a smaller picture, blurry from the zoom, of Ladybug's earrings and Chat Noir's ring taped to it.

"Have I ever mentioned how creepy this room is?" Alix asked.

There were no windows, the only light came from the computer screen as Chloe clicked through security camera footage she wasn't legally supposed to have access to, her left hand furiously scribbling notes as she watched. "Every time you see it, yeah," Chloe answered, distracted.

Alix sighed, helplessly. "Promise you won't spend all night in here?"

"Goodnight, Alix," was her only response.

The door shut quietly behind her, leaving Chloe alone, surrounded on all sides by darkness. She spared a look at the door as Alix left, before returning to work once again. It didn't matter if she stayed up all night for it. Didn't even matter if it took years. This desperation, this desire to win above all else, she understood Hawkmoth better than anyone else.

Chloe smiled, none of the plastic expressions she used so often during the day, a thrill of genuine happiness appearing on her face. "Your Miraculous will be mine," she promised.

Chloe worked into the night.

Chapter Text

Marinette blinked at Chloe from the parking lot, confused. Chloe looked back, a large, bloody, cotton bandage in her hand, she'd just removed from her shoulder. The sign for the Honeycomb center stood behind her, like it, too, was watching the scene unfold.

"Dupain-Cheng," Chloe acknowledged with a nod, taking a few steps forward to dump the bandage in a nearby trashcan. "Sorry if the sight of blood makes you squeamish. It's a very common reaction."

After a few more moments of staring, Marinette finally processed what she saw. "Chloe, you're bleeding."

"I was bleeding," she corrected. "It's a consequence of being stabbed."

Marinette's eyes widened. "You were stabbed?" She shouted.

"I was stabbed. I went to the hospital. Situation handled." She turned, muttering. "Don't know why everyone has to make such a fuss."

"What happened? Does it hurt?" Chloe's blase, almost annoyed, response was just another mystery to add to the pile Marinette was steadily accruing about the blonde.

"It's a stab wound, why wouldn't it hurt?" She asked, rhetorically.

It was only a moment, Chloe's annoyance shone through clearly, but that was enough. In that moment, Chloe looked at Marinette like she didn't even consider her a person, just a bug that had wandered under her boot, and it wasn't a question of if she would crush her, but how much it would hurt. She'd seen that expression so often when they were in school, and she never understood it. Even now, seeing that expression, knowing what it meant, she still couldn't understand. How could someone look at another human being that way, as something so worthless?

Then, like a switch was flipped, the expression was gone, Chloe was gone, and the comforting, happy, Doctor B had taken her place. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I didn't mean to get snippy, it's just been a long couple of days. I'm going to grab lunch, but O'Brien and Willert are inside if you wanted to see someone."

"Oh, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something," Chloe stopped walking. "Do you mind if I get lunch with you? It's not a counseling thing."

There was a hesitation, but it didn't even last a second. "Sure," she answered, agreeably. "We'll take my car, okay?"

Chloe's car was pale yellow, and the textbook definition of average. If it was lined up side by side with even five other cars, there'd be no guarantee Marinette would be able to pick it out as belonging to her. The inside was clean, but not new, with only a black duffel bag in the backseat to indicate it was used by anyone at all.

Marinette gingerly stepped into the passenger side, buckling herself in as Chloe did the same. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it.

"I hope you like Indian food," the blonde said once she started driving.

Marinette shrugged. "That's fine." Really, she found Indian food too spicy for the most part, but she was already pushing her luck asking to come with Chloe to lunch at all. It wasn't like they were friends. "How long is your lunch break? I really don't want to get you in trouble."

Chloe laughed, turning a corner down a side street Marinette had never been down before, at least, as Marinette. "Worried I'll lose my job? Don't be. I'm friends with the owner, so job security isn't much of an issue."

That... was a terrible way of thinking about it. It was also none of her business, so Marinette decided to drop it. "Is she the reason you became a counselor?"

Her hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel, like she was upset, but when she turned toward Marinette again she just smiled. "Yep."

She was lying.

This was a bad idea, Marinette decided. She had basically just got into a car with a stranger with no idea where they were going or what she would do.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Chloe asked, her eyes forward, looking out to the road once more as she weaved her way through the shadier parts of Paris.

Marinette bit her lip. Now or never. "Yesterday I got a call from my mom, then Alya, that Adrien had a kind of freak out in my parents' bakery. I was really worried, and I tried calling him, but he never picked up. I was hoping you'd talked to him more recently than I have, maybe you know more about how he's doing."

She expected Chloe to go on one of those rants like she had when they were in school, about how she and 'Adrikins' were made for each other, and that 'you should just stay away, Dupain-Cheng.' But she didn't. She just quirked an eyebrow and asked, "why do you feel like it's your responsibility when someone gets Akumatized?"

The question sliced through Marinette's mind, cutting off any off the cuff answer she might have given.

She still hadn't managed to work up an answer when Chloe continued. "I mean, to comfort someone in distress when they're right there, that's instinct, empathy, but to go out of your way trying to stop every little butterfly that has a chance of Akumatizing someone is frankly ridiculous."

"Of course it's ridiculous," Marinette snapped back. "This whole thing is ridiculous, Hawkmoth is ridiculous, and the fact that Ladybug and Chat Noir are the only ones who ever seem to do anything about it is completely ridiculous." Chloe smiled, seeming amused by the outburst. "You were Queen Bee, a superhero. You can't tell me it doesn't frustrate you, too."

"One of us works at an office for Akuma prevention," Chloe pointed out. After a few moments, however, her shoulders sagged. "Of course I'm frustrated," she admitted. "How could I not be? The Akumas turned my entire personality from an annoyance into a public safety hazard. Who I was, what I am, hurts people."

"I-" Chloe cut off what Marinette was going to say, abruptly.

"It's fine," she said with a forced smile. "I needed to adapt, and I did. The frustrating part is all the people who choose not to." The car stopped. "We're here."

Marinette grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving, wanting to say something, anything, comforting. But she couldn't find the words. After a minute, Chloe withdrew, slipping out of her grasp and the car at the same time.

An old Indian man greeted them as they walked into the restaurant, hugging Chloe and shaking Marinette's hand when the counselor made introductions. "Sushil, this is Marinette. Marinette, Sushil."

"Welcome, welcome. Please, take a seat. Any friend of Doctor B is a friend of mine," Sushil enthused. Marinette did as she was asked, rankling slightly at the nickname. Doctor B, once again. Never Chloe. At a certain point it almost seemed like a codename or a secret identity. Was she even a doctor?

Chloe sat across from Marinette at the table and Sushil brought fried bread and ice water, handing the pair menus before disappearing once more.

The restaurant wasn't crowded, but there were other people there, sitting down, eating, talking. They looked like nice peopl-oh who was she kidding? They were so obviously criminals.

In her time as a superhero, Marinette rarely dealt with any non-Akuma threats, but it did happen. Even if it hadn't, it'd be hard to ignore the shaved heads, tattooed arms, and barely visible firearms hanging from waistbands and jacket pockets across the various patrons of local Indian cuisine.

"Uh, Chloe, why are we here?" Marinette whispered, leaning closer as her eyes swept across the room at the unsavory characters.

"Aren't you hungry?" She lazily picked up a menu and began flipping through it. "I am."

"Is this some kind of mob dive? Are you part of the mob?" Marinette picked up her own menu, using it to cover her face in case anyone looked over.

"Le milieu, please. We're not talking about gangsters in some American movie," Chloe chastised, lightly. "And no, organized crime suits me poorly."

"Then what are we doing here?" She stressed.

Chloe's smirk made Marinette wish for the time when she was somewhat predictable. "Do you know the difference between a honeycomb and a spiderweb?"

One of the thugs stood, looking toward the pair, and Marinette watched him nervously. "What? Those are completely different things."

He walked toward them, Chloe barely even glancing in his direction. "Not really," she answered, sounding bored. "Hey, do me a favor and play along for the next few minutes," she whispered under her breath.

Before Marinette could respond, before the man could reach them, before she could even begin to gather what she meant by 'the difference between a honeycomb and a spiderweb,' Chloe moved.

Her hands slammed down on the table and she half rose from her chair. "You're breaking up with me?" She shouted.

What.

Marinette's brain stopped. Thankfully, the thug did, too. Chloe did not. "I can't believe you'd break up with me here. Do you know how many times I've eaten here? Did you not see the owner come up and give me a hug? Now this is just going to be that one place I got dumped. You've ruined this restaurant."

Chloe's expression was so angry, so suddenly, Marinette wasn't sure what to do. At times, it looked downright murderous. "Chloe, I-"

She interrupted before Marinette could get out more than that. "You're what? You're sorry? Do you have any idea how utterly sick I am of that word?" Her voice took on a high-pitched, mocking facsimile of Marinette's. "Chloe, I'm sorry I said you were too stupid to be a doctor. Chloe, I'm sorry I ruined your favorite restaurant. Chloe, I'm sorry I talk about Adrien all the time. Is that what this is about? You're getting back together with Adrien?"

Marinette was floundering, trying to find some aspect of the strange situation to latch onto. Chloe seemed genuinely angry, and the fact that anger was directed at her when she hadn't even done anything, it was... unfair. That was exactly it. Why was everything with Chloe always so unfair?

Just like that, she wasn't with Doctor B in some Indian restaurant tucked away behind a Paris backstreet. She was back in school, railing against the latest of Chloe's cruelties. "I never said you were too stupid to be a doctor," Marinette denied, vehemently. "I was just surprised you decided to go into it as a profession, and before you go off about it, my surprise has nothing to do with your intelligence and everything to do with how for most of the time I've known you, you've never raised a finger to help anyone but yourself." She was shouting now, matching Chloe's anger strike for strike. "And bringing Adrien into this is low, even for you. He and I have never been together, thanks in no small part to your constant aggravating meddling." She was just about to continue her defense when she heard a sniffle, and actually took a closer look at Chloe.

She was crying.

The anger from before had winked out like a candle in the breeze, and once again Marinette was lost, unsure what to do. Her eyes flicked outside, waiting for the inevitable arrival of an Akuma, and it seemed the other patrons were thinking the same thing as they all left one by one.

"Chloe, I..." she was what? She was sorry? No. Everything she said was true, and Chloe knew it. The last person left and Marinette could only sit and stare while Chloe sobbed quietly to herself.

Sushil walked into the room and laid a video camera on the table. "They're gone," he announced with the same chipperness in his voice as when he greeted them.

Chloe stopped crying instantly.

"How did they look?" She asked, excitedly. "Were any of them-" Sushil shook his head, and whatever Chloe was going to say died in her throat. After a moment, she schooled the disappointed look on her face into an even expression and took the camera. "Well, thank you for your assistance, Sushil. I hope you didn't lose too much business."

He waved a hand, dismissing the thought. "Ah, don't worry about it. Even if they did ever pay for their meals, how could I say no to you?"

Marinette's eyes flicked from Sushil to Chloe, disbelief growing. "This whole thing, taking me here, the argument, was just to, what? Film a bunch of gangsters?"

"Le milieu-" Chloe started to say, but Marinette trampled her words.

"I don't care what you call them. I want to know what's going on." Liar. The word pounded in her head, unwilling to leave.

Chloe handed Sushil her menu, staring at Marinette all the while. "Bring out whatever," she told him, and he took the menu before scurrying off. When he had disappeared into the back once more, she spoke again. "When a normal person sees someone about to turn into an Akuma, what do you think their expression is?"

Marinette thought for a moment. "I guess fear? Maybe dread?"

She nodded, accepting the answer. "What about Hawkmoth?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "Smug," she ground out.

Chloe smiled, standing. "At the end of the day, honeycombs and spiderwebs are just nets for trapping food." She walked to the other side of the table and patted Marinette on the shoulder. "Thanks for your help. I'll cover whatever you eat." With that, she walked out the door.

It took Marinette a few seconds before she realized what was happening, but when she did, she jumped to her feet and made to run after her. A jingling sound when she stood made her pause, however. There, on the ground, most likely flung from its position on her lap or some such place, though how Chloe managed to get it there without her noticing was anyone's guess, were the keys to Chloe's car.

But, if she expected Marinette to go back to Honeycomb with it, how did Chloe expect to do the same?

Sushil came out and laid a few dishes on the table, gesturing to them before beginning to leave.

"Wait, please," Marinette asked, and he paused, turning to face her again. "What do you know about Chloe?"

He laughs, the sound almost grating to her ears. "Are you kidding?" He walked toward the back once again, calling out one last thing. "I didn't even know her name was Chloe."

Chapter Text

Gabriel Agreste was waiting for him when he got home, his usual flat expression laced with an equally usual disappointment. Nathalie hovered to the side, a constant fixture. Adrien wasn't sure if her presence during these little family meetings meant his father considered her part of the family or simply didn't register her as being a person in the room, more a utility. "Do you have any idea the damage you've caused to the Agreste brand?"

Then again, he wondered, sometimes, if that was the way his father saw all people. "I'm sure you'll tell me," Adrien shot back, sardonically.

"Abandoning your assistant, disregarding your responsibilities, then having a public meltdown in front of a reporter, are you trying to ruin me, or do you have no consideration for other people in the slightest?" Adrien winced at the venom in his father's tone.

Still, for better or worse he was his father's son; that meant he had venom of his own. "This might be hard for you to believe, but after my friend was stabbed and taken away to the hospital, your precious brand wasn't what I was most concerned about."

"I wish that I could express surprise your friends find themselves the victim of street violence," Gabriel said with a shake of his head. "This is the very thing your bodyguard is meant to protect you from."

"I don't need protection. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself," Adrien replied, voice heated.

Gabriel turned the screen around to show Adrien a looped video of him running out of the bakery. Hands shaking, eyes widened, face pale, he almost looked more like an alien than himself. "If this is your idea of taking care of yourself, I hope to never see your definition of coming to ruin."

Adrien turned away, trying to think of a response to that.

"Starting today, your assistant and bodyguard are fired. I'll be hiring new ones immediately, ones more capable of keeping you safe." Gabriel began, flipping the screen back around and tapping rapidly on it.

Adrien's stomach twisted. Firings almost always meant Akuma. "No one has to lose their job over this."

"Additionally, I am arranging a flight to the Agreste branch in Hong Kong, where you will stay until you have earned some measure of responsibility." He said, brushing past his son's objection and affixing him with a cold glare. "I don't accept failure, Adrien. You of all people should know that by now." He turned to go, Nathalie following a few steps behind. "You will be leaving in one month. Maybe out of the country, you won't be so distracted by old friends."

Adrien called out a protestation, but the door had already slammed shut. A month, then he'd be gone. The Miraculous on his finger seemed to burn.

Plagg floated slowly out from underneath his jacket. "Adrien, I-"

"You got what you wanted," Adrien cut him off, harshly. "A confrontation."

"I didn't want this," Plagg said, quietly.

Adrien gritted his teeth, biting back all the words he could say. He'd made friends over the years, as children in school, as an adult in modeling or out on the town, but Plagg and Ladybug were the only ones that truly knew him. If he left Paris, he'd have to surrender the Miraculous. Plagg would be gone, his Lady would be gone.

He would be truly alone.

Numbly, he walked back to his room and picked the cellphone off his desk. For days, he'd been stewing, trying to figure out how to answer the numerous missed calls and texts from concerned friends seeing his breakdown online. He always liked to find the exact words he needed before answering, but now it didn't seem to matter.

He clicked the first missed call and held the phone up to his ear, letting it ring.

"Adrien." Marinette's voice. Dependable, kind, if a bit scattered from time to time. "How are you? What happened? You didn't get Akumatized, right? I mean, of course you didn't because I would have seen it. N-not that I have some special reason to see it, I'm not a superhero or anything. It'd just be on the news. That's where I'd see it."

He laughed, a bit stilted, but true. "Never change, Marinette."

Her voice quieted down, struck by something in his tone. "Are you okay?"

He was tempted to say yes. Pass off Marinette's concern with the same practice he always had before. Turn into Chat Noir and leap from building to building hoping for a glimpse of his lady. Maybe he'd even call her and she would comfort him, but...

'I love you, Ladybug.'

'I know, Chat.'

If he told her he'd have to leave in a month, that he'd need to give up the Cat Miraculous for her to have a different partner, would she even...?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Of course she'd care.

"Adrien?" Marinette's voice came to him again.

"I'm not okay," he finally admitted.

There was a pause, and a jingling sound like she picked up keys. "I'm coming to get you."

Adrien leaned against the wall, shaking, though whether from a laugh or a sob, he couldn't tell. He could hear her get into a car and start it up, never hanging up the phone. "Never change."

(:*:)

The duffel bag in the back seat of Chloe's car was missing. Her mind was on Adrien, on helping him with whatever was bothering him, but, using Chloe's keys, getting into her car, it was impossible not to notice the missing bag.

Sushil waved at her from his restaurant. In the end, he gave her a bag of takeout, since she'd rather not stay too long in a place crawling with gangsters.

Le milieu...

Chloe talked about it like she dealt with them a lot, but how could she? In school, she'd rather have been caught dead than interacting with criminals, and now she was a counselor, so why?

'Organized crime suits me poorly.'

Why did she know that, unless she'd tried it first?

Marinette started the car, glancing over at the phone to make sure Adrien hadn't gone anywhere, and started moving down the road.

She was being silly, of course. Chloe was many things, but a criminal was not one of them. Although, wasn't filming people without their permission against the law? Maybe she'd look it up later. In any case, not criminal like she'd hurt anyone.

Marinette bit her lip, considering.

Chloe was stabbed, though. Was that in a fight? Did a job go south and she took the rap?

She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away. She definitely needed to stop watching old movies when she was sewing. She was making up all these convoluted explanations, when really it was probably incredibly simple. Chloe knew a lot about le milieu because she was interested in the history of organized crime, probably, and she knew it wouldn't suit her for the same reason. As for the stab, it was probably an accident in the kitchen with a roommate or some such thing.

Was Chloe living with someone?

Marinette's lips curled into a frown. Chloe's childhood was spent living alone, why would she have a roommate now? Why would she be in the kitchen to have an accident instead of hiring a personal chef? Unless, was she living with someone romantically?

She turned another corner, trying to make it onto a main street, groaning as she shoved the thoughts away. It was amazing how completely none of her business that was. For that matter, none of this was her business. Chloe could be a mob boss with a city-wide harem and it would still be none of her business.

Why did she have to be so mysterious, anyway?

Finally, Marinette managed to find a main road and make her way toward the Agreste mansion. She wasn't far, thankfully, but seeing the intimidating building seemed to chase the thoughts of Chloe away, a dim dread taking their place.

She picked up the phone and spoke into it. "I'm here."

Adrien walked out of the mansion a few moments later, getting into the passenger side of the car. He looked around it for a few moments before turning to her again. "Did you just buy this?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

He gestured back. "No bumper sticker, no fabric or sewing kit, no leftover food or box of macarons your parents keep sending you." He laughed. "Feels like I just walked into someone else's car."

Marinette scratched the back of her head, a little embarrassed. Adrien had only ridden in her car a couple times. She didn't think he'd noticed all that. "Well, you are right, this is actually Chloe's car."

"Ah," he responded, then stayed quiet for a few moments, like he was chewing on the information. "How has she been, lately? I talked to her recently, but she didn't say much about herself." It felt like he wanted to say something more, but stopped at the last moment.

"She's good?" Marinette shrugged. "It's really hard to tell, honestly. Sometimes it feels like she's confusing me on purpose."

"Try not to take it too hard," Adrien said, comfortingly. "Chloe's always had trouble understanding people."

Marinette huffed a laugh. "It's not her understanding of me, I'm worried about, more the other way around."

"What do you mean?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"What do I mean?" She asked, disbelievingly. "How about, nothing about Chloe makes sense? How about, she spends her whole childhood making everyone miserable and now she's a therapist trying to make everyone happy? Or maybe how she spends time with criminals who don't even know her real name? Or what about how sometimes it's like there's another side to her, buried under these layers of fake smiles and easy lies, that..." 'scares me,' is the phrase Marinette wanted to say, but couldn't quite bring herself to. "I don't know. It's really none of my business, either way."

"I wouldn't say that," Adrien differed. "Besides, you wouldn't be Marinette if you weren't stewing over Chloe," he ribbed, gently. "Some days, it was like she was the only thing on your mind."

Marinette laughed. He was right, of course. Trying to stop Chloe from constantly causing Akuma's at school was like a full time job, and she was usually quite vocal about her frustrations with the blonde bully. "I thought I'd been more subtle about that," she admitted. No matter how much of a terror Chloe could be in school, she was still Adrien's friend. She didn't think he heard her badmouth the girl that much. After a moment, though, she slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, but I'm so rude, I brought you here to talk about you, and here I am blabbering about Chloe. Sorry about that."

Adrien laughed, gently. "You don't need to apologize for that. It's nice to know you'll be okay."

Marinette quirked her head. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He froze. "Sorry, I phrased that wrong. Of course you'll be okay, I'm just..." he sighed, looking away. "I'm going to be leaving in a month."

The words were understandable. He didn't mumble them or anything. Still, something about them just failed to register in her mind. "Hm?"

"My father's sending me to Hong Kong. He thinks I'll be more focused there," Adrien said, dully.

Marinette blinked, her brain slowly processing the impossible words until, "but, you can't. I mean, you're an adult, now, you can decide for yourself what to do. You could move out of your dad's place, get a job. There isn't a lot of room in my apartment, but I usually sleep in the design studio anyway, so you can stay there until you find a... place... of your own?"

Adrien hadn't moved.

"Adrien?" She asked, reaching a hand out to comfort him. "We can fight him on this."

"He's right." Adrien shook his head. "I wish he wasn't. I wish I could stay in Paris forever, but I can't pretend everything is fine when," he shrugged helplessly, "I'm not." He ruffled his hair in frustration. "I can't pretend I don't flinch whenever I hear someone yelling or crying, because I'm so worried an Akuma will come of it, that I don't wonder when I wake up if today is the day Hawkmoth will hurt my friends, ruin my life. I can't pretend I'm so much better than I am, anymore." He started fiddling with the ring on his finger. "Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a superhero, Marinette?"

Marinette began to sweat. Had he figured her out? Had he always known? "What do you mean?"

"Like Ladybug or Chat Noir," he explained, carefully. "To have all those powers, to fight Akuma, to help people. Have you ever wanted to do that?" It looked like he almost wanted to slip the ring off his finger.

"Well," Marinette began, before a knock on the window interrupted. Surprised was not the word, when she turned to see a police officer standing right outside the car with a serious expression on her face: shocked was the word. She rolled the window down, looking a bit intimidated by the officer. If she were Ladybug, she knew she wouldn't be scared in the slightest by a civilian, but for all her clumsiness, Marinette had never gotten a ticket driving, and she'd like to keep that perfect record. "Hello, officer. Is there a problem we can help you with?"

"License and registration, please," she answered in a clipped tone.

They were just sitting in a parked car, what had she done wrong? Marinette fished for her license from her purse and handed it over.

The police officer looked at it, eyes flicking back and forth from it to her, before handing it back. "This is fake."

Marinette gaped, not know what to say, when Adrien interjected. "You're gonna give her a heart attack, Alix."

Suddenly, the officer's serious expression broke out into a mischievous grin. "Oh, come on, Adrien. I was this close to getting her to do a field sobriety test."

"I thought you said you weren't a crooked cop," Adrien stated, deadpan.

The officer's response was to very maturely stick out her tongue and blow a raspberry.

"Alix Kubdel?" Marinette asked, disbelievingly.

"She didn't need prompting to figure out it was me," Alix said, pointedly at Adrien, who just rolled his eyes in response. After a moment, she scratched the back of her head, contritely. "Sorry about the scare, though. It might have been a better idea in my head."

Marinette waved a hand. "That's alright. I'll just let you know how I'm doing when my heart starts beating again, okay?"

"I'm a little surprised you two haven't seen each other," Adrien commented.

Both pairs of eyes turned to him. "Why's that?"

"Don't you both hang out with Chloe?" He asked, and they each looked at the other.

After a moment, Alix chuckled. "You know, that is just like Chloe. I can't tell you the number of times random people will say hi to her on the street, I just don't know where she can fit meeting all them into her schedule."

Marinette wanted to keep Alix there, to press her for answers on Chloe, but Adrien was still sitting in the car right beside her, Adrien who was moving in a month, Adrien who may or may not know she was Ladybug, Adrien who wasn't okay.

"Hey, I'd like to catch up, sometime. I think I have the number you had in school, somewhere, but I don't know if it's changed," Marinette said, gently ending the conversation.

Alix took the hint, easily, waving a hand and stepping back. "Yeah, I gotta run, but I still go to your parents' bakery a bunch, so we'll meet up there and talk, alright?"

They said their goodbyes, and Alix was off again, leaving Adrien and Marinette alone.

"Sorry about that," Marinette said, turning to Adrien. "I've been so busy with my job, I haven't seen most of these people in years. Now, with Chloe, it's like they're everywhere."

Adrien's hands stilled, the fiddling of his ring halting. "You work hard, Marinette. For all the time I've known you, you've always been busy, dedicating yourself to your dream, to helping people." He let his hands fall to his sides and smiled up at her. "I don't want to ever add to that burden."

They talked a bit more after that, but Marinette could tell whatever Adrien was trying to say had been lost in the moment.

"Are you sure going to Hong Kong is what you want?" She asked, as he opened the door to leave.

"It's not what I want," his fingers tightened on the handle. "But it's what I need to do. Maybe once I've learned some 'responsibility' I'll be back." His gaze grew faraway for a moment, looking up at the rooftops of Paris. "Maybe then..." he shook his head. "Thank you, for coming for me, Marinette. You're a really great friend."

"That's what I am," she answered, a little weakly. "A great friend."

The two parted ways, and Marinette groaned in the empty car. "Aren't childhood crushes supposed to go away when you're not, you know, a child?"

Tikki floated out from her purse, crooning, comfortingly, but offering no real answer. With a sigh, Marinette started the car once again and began moving through the streets of Paris toward her studio.

In some far removed part of her mind, Marinette thought of Adrien's question, asking if she'd ever wanted to be a superhero.

Chloe had always wanted to be a superhero, she thought.

Marinette drove on.

(:*:)

For anyone else, hand delivering anonymous messages to the police station would have made preserving the 'anonymity' part of the equation difficult. Chloe Bourgeois was not anyone else.

To put on a disguise and enter a building of people trained to identify and apprehend suspicious behavior was daring, to mail the package anonymously, hoping it didn't run into any problems in transport was optimistic, but to apply and earn a part time job, then walk through the front door as a postwoman once a week delivering letters and packages entirely irrelevant to the main goal simply to avoid suspicion when she handed over the anonymous package was no less than insanity.

"Anything for me today, Miss Bourgeois?" Commandant Legrand asked, his old wooden pipe clenched between his teeth, even when he knew he couldn't light it indoors.

"A few letters, today," Chloe answered with a chipperness that was difficultly earned. As she passed the letters off, though, she grimaced, reaching into her mailbag and puling out a package. "And another one of these."

To do it repeatedly had such staggering audacity not a single person suspected her anymore.

Legrand took the package, a grimace to match her own peeling over his face.

"You've never told me what's in them," Chloe said, uncertainly. "Not to pry, but, is it dangerous?"

He nodded. "It's not a bomb or weapon, but yeah; it's dangerous." It looked like he was going to open it right then, before he noticed Chloe still in the room and flashed her an apologetic smile.

"Oh, I'll get moving on, then. Have a nice rest of your day, Mister Legrand," she said, waving as she left. The Commandant gave a mumbled goodbye, still focused on the package in front of him.

It was funny to Chloe, sometimes, how preoccupied people could be with puzzles. Though, really, she wasn't one to talk.

A smirk forced its way through her features as she delivered the last of the mail and walked out of the police station. "Ridiculous," she mumbled to herself. "People are truly ridiculous."

She bumped into Alix outside, always wearing that ridiculous grin. A civil servant living off a pitiful paycheque. What could possibly make her so happy?

"Hey, Chlo, ran into Marinette, today, driving your car. How can you possibly work two jobs and still have enough time to make friends I don't even know about, when I can't even keep up with my favorite TV shows after one?" Half accusation, half whine, for all the people she saw as a counselor, Alix was still far and away the one that complained to Chloe the most, and she wasn't even a client.

"Maybe I have a secret twin I use to split the responsibilities," Chloe answered, deadpan.

"That..." Alix paused. "Makes too much sense."

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm serious," she insisted. "The multiple jobs, the mysterious friends, you ignoring me half the time, are you sure you don't have a twin?"

"I ignore you when you're being annoying." Chloe crossed her arms. The 'like now' was implied. "And I don't have a twin, you just suck at time management."

"Pretty sure you have a twin," she differed, still wearing that obnoxious grin.

Chloe huffed, turning and walking down the street, intent on hailing a cab.

Alix called after her. "Hey, if you have a twin, which one of you am I sponsoring?"

Her middle finger raised behind her was her only response, as Alix's laugh followed her down the street.

"Idiot." Chloe shook her head. If she didn't spend so much time goofing off, she could...

The thought stuttered to a stop.

She could what?

Alix was happy. It was easy to forget, sometimes most people didn't have any goals beyond that. In a sense, Chloe's goals were aligned with that same purpose Alix had already achieved. She could mock her for the bad jokes and annoying grin, but she couldn't offer criticism when Alix had already won.

Chloe gritted her teeth. She didn't have to like it, but if she wasn't used to being jealous of Alix Kubdel by then, what was she doing with her life? Maybe she didn't have as good time management as she thought.

With a wave of her hand, she flagged down a passing taxi, getting into it and giving the driver her next destination. Not home, not yet at least, there was still so much to do.

Chloe sighed as the taxi began driving. She could already tell the day was going to be bad. It didn't happen as often, but she knew it wouldn't ever really go away. Her palms itched, and she almost told the driver to change course, but she stopped herself. Today was a bad day.

Tomorrow would be better.

Chapter Text

Chloe Bourgeois brushed a finger across the letter, feeling the slight raise where the gold formed words on the paper.

You are cordially invited...

She sighed, reluctantly setting it down. Even after all this time, it still felt odd receiving invitations. Accompanying her parents, definitely, a mass invite for her class, from time to time, but a personal invitation because someone wanted her to be there? A younger Chloe might never have believed it.

A younger Chloe might have also had a good time. Dealing with one person at a time, reading their facial expressions and body language, parsing their words, trying to be 'nice', it was all so exhausting. Ramping that up to an entire group of them all with their own stresses and conflicting personalities, it was a wonder to Chloe how any party ended without an Akuma.

When she was just starting out in university, she used to attend every party she was invited to, and try everything she could to make sure no one had a breakdown. That idea died by about the fourth party.

Did she prevent a few Akumas? Probably. Was she risking Akumatizing herself if she missed another night of sleep making sure her roommates didn't lock themselves in the bathroom or cry themselves out after getting rejected? Absolutely. Better to let them screw up while she slept, then maybe she'd come in and fix things in the morning. At least that way, she didn't have to deal with her classmates drunk.

Her features fixed into a glare down at the parchment. And wouldn't that be a fun bonus to an already stressful event: alcohol.

She was allowed a plus-one, so Alix was most likely taking that spot, though Chloe could always distract herself by taking some morally corrupt crime boss or businessman she still had yet to test. But no, throwing in too many random factors was bound to end in disaster.

Play it safe, suffer through. It was just like everything else.

"Doctor B?" Eloise, the new desk girl, popped her head into the office. "There's a man out here asking to see you. What should I tell him?"

Chloe took the letter and placed it carefully in her top desk drawer. "In the future, you should tell whoever it is I am indisposed, then I'll walk out or ring you when I'm ready to see someone else. For now, send him in." She'd learn, not that it made her any less annoying in the short term.

Adrien Agreste walked in.

Chloe leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd give the card to your assistant."

He looked away, scratching the back of his head. "She's not my assistant anymore."

"Something happened?" It was phrased like a question, but it was beyond obvious to Chloe that what happened was the same thing that always happened: Gabriel Agreste. If she really wanted to take a morally bankrupt businessman, there was prime real estate in the father of her childhood friend.

Having Adrien's father be arrested for the criminal dealings he was most likely having would make future interactions with Adrien awkward, however, and with the amount of Akumas who specifically wanted to kill Gabriel, the odds of him being Hawkmoth struck Chloe as particularly low.

"My father fired her and my bodyguard, this morning," Adrien said, predictably. "He's putting me on a plane to China in a month."

Now that was less predictable. "Have you talked to anyone else about this?"

"Marinette," of course, "she said I should fight it, but..."

"You're not sure?" Adrien never was when it came to fighting anyone. For a fencer, he was criminally noncombative.

"I think some time away might be good for me, might fix..." he gestured all up and down himself, "this."

"And what, exactly, is," Chloe made the same gesture, "this?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Just me, I guess. I don't want to feel this way anymore, never going forward, always worrying, always scared." His eyes squeezed shut and his hands clenched into fists. "It sucks."

"And you think China is going to be better?" Chloe began playing with a pen again, a bit absent-mindedly. Issues with abandonment, confrontation, too much empathy, Adrien was an open book, really. Open, standard, and boring.

As a person, she was sure he was fine enough. He'd provided nearly endless entertainment as a 'friend' while she pushed and prodded him as far as he could go without breaking, seeing what she would have to say or do before his loyalty ran dry, before he'd have to renounce her or lose his other friends. She'd never gotten him to that point, come to think of it, but she'd abandoned diversions like those a long time ago.

Maybe if she'd pushed him farther before, he wouldn't be coming to her with such boring problems now, but Chloe didn't pick the dysfunction, she just treated it.

All the same, she was only half-listening to his rant. In contrast to Marinette's blaming herself for every Akuma, Adrien seemed fixated on every non-Akuma threat, particularly when Chloe had been stabbed, most recently. She hummed as he continued. Ah, there was the blaming himself for every Akuma he was missing before.

Sheesh, leave some guilt for the rest of us, why don't you two, Chloe thought.

"Do you think China is without danger? That moving there will be a miracle-cure for your anxiety?" There wasn't judgement in her tone, or mockery, but the words made him freeze, nonetheless.

Adrien finally took a seat, his legs buckling, slightly. "I don't think it'll be a miracle-cure. Honestly, I'm not even sure it'll make me happy. But spending some time away, being somewhere I won't have to worry about seeing a friend's face on the news as they're warped into something twisted? Somewhere I won't have to walk on eggshells all the time? It can't hurt, can it?"

"Well it sounds like you've come to terms with the change fairly well," Chloe noted. "Why come to me?"

Adrien went quiet, so totally quiet she started to wonder if he was even still breathing. It was around the six minute mark, she stood, intent on going over to check on him, and when she got close enough, he whispered to her. "When we were kids, you could never keep a secret."

She blinked at the non-sequitur, but sat down beside him, playing the game, nonetheless. "There are a lot of things I did as a child, I wouldn't do now," she responded, evenly. "You can rest assured, any secret you tell me within this office stays with me. You don't have to share anything you don't want to, but I am here to help you, not gossip about you to others."

Adrien nodded, absorbing the information, slowly. "I... don't think I'm ready to say, just yet. Can we talk about something else for a little while?"

She nodded, agreeably. "Anything you want. Did you have something in mind?"

He shrugged. "What about Marinette?"

Chloe felt her teeth clench, the action never showing on her face. "Sure. You said you talked to her recently, right?"

"Yeah, she was supportive, as always, even if I'm still not sure she understands why I'm not fighting the move." Which was fair, given she probably didn't. The girl was frighteningly straightforward. Chloe suspected Dupain-Cheng didn't have a duplicitous bone in her body, which only made the fact her personality was real that much more annoying. Adrien's choice to go along with his father's ruling even when he didn't want to must have baked her little baker brain. "I was a little surprised by her driving your car, until I remembered this is Marinette we were talking about" Adrien continued. "How long have you two been together?"

Chloe's pen cracked in half, ink spilling onto her pant leg. Adrien reached over, grabbing tissues, hoping to dab the stain away, while Chloe steadfastly ignored it. "What makes you say that?" She said, voice unbearably free of inflection.

To his credit, he seemed to notice his mistake, instantly. "Ah, no, when I was talking to Marinette, she said... well, I guess she didn't say, exactly. This is all a misunderstanding. It's just, she was always talking about you at school, and when I saw her driving your car without an explanation, I just thought she'd finally done something about her crush on you."

Chloe stood and deposited the remains of the pen into a wastebin, grabbing a wet cloth to wash the ink from her hands. "She talked about me in school because I was an incorrigible bully to her, as I was to nearly everyone else." 'Including you,' she almost said. "If you thought you saw marks of a crush when she was talking to you about me, it was probably the incredibly obvious one she had on you that you never noticed, you ridiculous child."

She regretted the words even as they came out of her mouth, fearing her acid tongue would send yet another person into an akumatized state. To her surprise, however, Adrien only laughed, good-naturedly. "I really missed your honesty, Chloe," he admitted, smiling up at her. "You're never afraid to speak your mind."

Chloe scoffed, silently. She wished that were true.

"I hope I didn't hurt her too much." When Chloe turned around, Adrien was looking out the window, expression distant. "I really do care about her."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "If it helps, she's probably still pining after you, even now. You could just tell her you like her and see what happens from there."

He looked over, a smile tugging at his lips. "Still pining for me, is that your professional counselor opinion?" He asked.

"More cynicism, than anything," she shot back, examining her fingernails.

He turned back to the window, his smile falling. "I can't tell her," he said after a minute. "I love someone else."

"Who?" Chloe asked, dropping the hand she checked the nails on and walking around the desk to sit down once again.

"Ladybug." Chloe snorted at his response and he chuckled. "Yeah, I know. But this is actually related to that secret I wanted to talk to you about." He closed the window blinds before turning to face her, hand falling to the ring on his hand. "It won't matter in a month, anyway, but, Chloe, can I talk to you about Chat Noir?"

(:*:)

It didn't take Alya's hard-won journalistic prowess to tell Marinette was distracted, it just took eyes. Her expression was unfocused, her posture was off, she'd spent ten minutes trying to decide what to order and another twenty playing with her food without taking a bite. Marinette was a mess, and, in Alya's experience she only got this worked up over one person.

She was about to ask her about him, when Marinette spoke first. "Adrien's moving to China," she said, stabbing her food with more force than necessary. "And I can't stop him."

Alya blew a long exhale, leaning back in her chair. "Wow."

There was a clatter as Marinette nearly threw her fork onto her plate. "Yeah." Alya couldn't remember a time Marinette had seemed so bitter.

"Are you gonna be..." she reached out a hand, but hesitated, "okay?"

"I haven't been Akumatized yet, so I don't think it's gonna happen," she sighed, propping an elbow on the table and resting her cheek in her hand. "Still wish I could talk to Chloe about it, though." She picked her fork up again and started stirring it around the plate.

"Can't you?" Alya asked, slowly withdrawing the hand when it was clear an Akuma wasn't imminent. She still wanted to comfort her friend, but stretching across the table wasn't the way to do it.

"According to the girl working the desk at Honeycomb, she had to take a leave to deal with family troubles " Marinette said, finally managing to at least nibble on some food.

Alya snorted, disbelievingly. "As-if."

This got Marinette's attention. "What do you mean?"

"Girl, do you ever read my articles?" Alya said with a roll of her eyes. "Chloe's parents died years back. She's got no family to have troubles."

Marinette frowned at the news. "I never knew that," she admitted. "I don't know much about her at all." And why did she have to sound so sad when she said that?

"Well, let's fix that, then," Alya announced, standing up.

Marinette blinked, confused. "Fix what?"

Alya stretched her hand out again, waiting for Marinette to take it. This. This was how she'd help her friend. "I'm a journalist, girl. If you want information on someone, I'm the only one to talk to."

Adrien, she could talk to later, there was nothing she could do about that at the moment, but Chloe? There had to be tons of info on the girl, she'd never been exactly shy around a camera.

Marinette took her hand, and they left the restaurant, walking the handful of blocks it takes to get back to Alya's apartment.

It wasn't a big space, but considering how little time Alya actually spent there, she didn't mind it. There was a bed, microwave, and computer, everything else was extra. The same three things were also in her office, which was probably the reason she spent so little time in the apartment, but that's neither here nor there.

She left Marinette taking off her coat and shoes by the door and opened up her laptop, sticking Chloe's name into the search engine, then going to her column and blog sites and searching it there for good measure.

Marinette sat down with a flumping noise on the bed behind Alya, looking over her shoulder at the screen, eyes furrowed.

The top results were predictable enough: interviews on her experience as Queen Bee, photos of her with either of her famous parents, or Adrien. It was when they scrolled down, Alya's initial excitement began to fade.

Interview with Chloe Bourgeois: the most Akumatized person in Paris.

Teenager or Terrorist? How Chloe Bourgeois helps Hawkmoth.

Bourgeois Black Sheep, from Ubiquitous to Unknown.

Whatever happened to Chloe Bourgeois?

Every Akuma reason ranked and in order (now with Chloe Bourgeois section)

A Tragedy in Black and Yellow: Death of the Bourgeois Parents.

Why Chloe Bourgeois needs to go.

Chloe Bourgeois is Hawkmoth (Theory).

Money Can't Buy Happiness: Bourgeois Akumatization Retrospective

Alya kept scrolling, eyes darting past more and more results, much the same. The Honeycomb center had a website, but it wasn't much more than contact information for the office and a brief mission statement. It was also buried in the search results, besides. She was about to give up on the search when Marinette's finger shot past her ear, pointing at the screen, "What's that?"

Alya looked at the link she'd pointed to, somewhere far down the line and clicked into it, seeing some kind of academic paper load onto the screen. "The Butterfly's Affect: Exploring the way Hawkmoth thinks," Alya read the title aloud.

Marinette pointed again, to the bottom of the page. "By Chloe Bourgeois. I was so wrapped up in everything else, I never thought to look."

Alya raised an eyebrow. "Look for what?"

"Chloe's a doctor," Marinette explained, gesturing to the screen, "this is her thesis."

Alya's nose wrinkled as she turned back to the screen. "Pretty creepy topic," she muttered. "Why do you think she chose it?"

"I'm not sure..." Marinette hummed, placing her hand on her chin. "Do you think she knows something about Hawkmoth nobody else does?"

"Why keep it to herself?" Alya asked with a shrug. "Have you seen the number of interviews she's done? If she knew anything, it's already out there."

"Whatever happened to Chloe Bourgeois?" Marinette recited. At her friend's confused expression, she elaborated. "That was one of the search results, and that other one, obsequious to obscurity, or something like that. All the dates on those interviews were old. At some point she must have just stopped doing them altogether."

Alya went back to the search and began clicking through a few of the more recent articles, skimming through. "Chloe Bourgeois could not be reached for comment," she said, again and again, as it showed up in anything past a certain point.

"She won't do any interviews anymore," Marinette asserted. "She must have found something out about Hawkmoth, he threatened her, and now she can't do any interviews or he'll do something awful to her."

Alya waved a hand in front of her face, pulling Marinette from the tizzy she'd been working herself into. "Let's try to cool it on the assumptions, here. Most of these have totally reasonable explanations why she wouldn't want to go on a talk show for them. This one happened right after her mom died, this one after her dad was buried, I don't know about you, but I wouldn't be desperate to show a camera my ugly cry in those scenarios. For the rest of them, maybe she was busy, or just got tired of interviews, altogether. I mean, she's done so many, it probably got boring, right?"

Marinette bit her lip. "Her mom died first?"

"Yep." Alya pulled up one of the sites talking about it and skimmed through again. "Looks like complications from a surgery. Mayor Bourgeois got Akumatized and tried to kill the doctors."

Marinette groaned, clutching her head and falling back onto the bed. "When we were kids, Chloe idolized her mother. I think most of the really bad stuff she did was trying to mimic her, so why did her dad get Akumatized after her death and not Chloe?"

Alya shrugged. "Honestly, with the amount of times Hawkmoth Akumatized Chloe without it getting him anywhere, maybe he just gave up on her." She looked a little further, pointing at a line on the screen. "See? She didn't get Akumatized when the mayor died, either."

"It's hard imagining Hawkmoth just giving up on someone," Marinette differed. "He seems perfectly content keeping the Akumas coming forever until he gets what he wants."

"Maybe she didn't idolize her mom as much as you thought," she offered.

"Maybe..." Marinette said, clearly uncertain. "What have you written about her?"

Alya navigated over to her current writing, brushing through a handful of things that didn't amount to much more than passing mentions. The most she had there was another interview on Queen Bee when she was just starting out, and Alya had to admit with a grimace that her writing had greatly improved since then, the usefulness of the article approaching zero as she scrolled through the questions she'd asked.

What was transforming like?

How does it feel to risk your life against an Akuma?

Do you have anything to say to your fans out there?

She might as well have copied a Ladybug question sheet down word for word. Alya grimaced. "So sloppy."

"Stop." Marinette pointed again, this time at a question Alya couldn't have asked Ladybug.

How has your identity being public affected your life?

Alya read aloud Chloe's, that is, Queen Bee's response. "It's fabulous having my fans walk up to me and ask for autographs and the like. I used to be the tiniest bit worried Hawkmoth would target me since he probably knows who I am, too, but now I say let the smarmy rich chiante try. Even if, by some ridiculous miracle he manages to capture me, I know Ladybug will come to my rescue." Alya rolled her eyes, Chloe's overdramatics replaying in her memory.

"How did she know..." Marinette chewed a fingernail, eyebrows furrowed together so hard it looked like her face was in a knot.

"Know what?" Alya asked.

Marinette pointed at the screen again and Alya's eyes followed it to one line of Chloe's answer in particular. "How did she know Hawkmoth was rich?"

(:*:)

Alix Kubdel zipped her jacket up all the way, shivering against the cooling air. Winter was close, too close, for her tastes, but she couldn't change the weather.

A sigh escaped her as the old iron gate creaked open and she gave a wave to the caretaker.

Just as she couldn't turn back the clock.

She walked with purpose, glancing down from time to time to admire a particularly nice bouquet or odd knick knack of some kind, but never slowing her step. It was always a bit rude, she thought, lingering on someone she didn't even know, so for the most part her eyes were fixed ahead.

When they finally came into view, she waved to the two in front of her, smiling wanly. "Hey, guys, I didn't..." she spread her hands, helplessly, "I didn't bring you anything; hope you don't mind. I just got off work, wanted to say hi, you know. Legrand misses you, both of you, really. He'll never admit it, but it's kinda obvious."

She laughed, sitting fully on the ground so she was more at level with them. "Chloe's friends with Marinette now, apparently, though when that happened, I have no idea." Alix chuckled. "I wonder if she still calls her 'Dupain-Cheng,' even when they're friends, could you believe that? Honestly, this is Chloe we're talking about, here, so I wouldn't put it past her, but still."

Alix grew silent, looking up at the sky, feeling the chilly breeze on her skin. "I'm worried about her," she admitted, finally.

"She's come a long way, I know you'd both be proud of her, but I don't know what'll happen if this thing with Hawkmoth keeps up." Her eyes burned, with the cold, with fatigue, but not with tears. Not anymore. "Chloe's tough. I know she'll take whatever happens and keep swinging, but it's been so long since I've seen her actually... happy."

The frown on her own face deepened. "Don't get me wrong, dealing with her when she got her kicks torturing us in class sucked, but there's gotta be some way she can be happy too, right? I know you thought so."

Silence greeted her once again.

It took another minute for her to speak again. "Maybe Marinette will be good for her," she said, slowly, like she was working through it, herself. "I never feel like I know what to do when it comes to friendships, but Marinette's always been really good at stuff like that."

"I wish you could give me some advice," she admitted. "I asked my brother, but he's never been all that great at this, either."

An insistent wind blew past, cutting through her coat and pants directly to the bone, forcing her to shiver. "Guess that's all I got for today. Next time I'll bring you some macarons, alright? I promise."

She gave a last smile and turned away, the twin tombstones growing farther with each step. With another wave to the graveyard caretaker, the creaky iron gate slammed shut behind her.

Chapter Text

Ladybug and Chat Noir never agreed on which the worst Akumas were. To him, they were always the mind controlling ones, and some particularly grueling fights neither of them liked to dwell on. For her, it was always the shapeshifters, tricksters, liars. Long after Lila had moved away and they'd faced a legion more Akuma, Marinette still grimaced whenever she thought of Volpina.

The fact she'd practically Akumatized Lila, herself, only made the feeling worse.

Two hundred and seventy-seven, the number flashed in her mind as she dodged under a flailing wooden fist from the latest Akuma, one that transformed people into puppets under its control, so definitely not a good time for Chat.

The number seemed too big. "Lucky Charm," with a flash of red and black, a spool of sewing thread dropped in her hand.

Logically, she knew they'd faced far more Akuma than that, that it represented only a fraction of the ones they'd beaten, but still. That was nearly one Akuma for every day in a year, and no matter how hard she tried, Marinette couldn't remember even close to that many.

The puppet's strings tangled with her and Chat's combined sewing thread attack. Chat jumped forward to tear the infected playbill in half.

"No more evildoing for you, little Akuma." She swung her yoyo, catching it the same way she caught all the others, de-evilizing them one by one. There was a list online, with all of their names, but Marinette could only picture a handful.

"Bye bye little butterfly." How could Chloe have caused two hundred and seventy-seven Akumatizations?

"Lucky Charm." Did she feel the same way, when she thought about those, that Marinette did with Volpina? Every single one? Somehow, Marinette couldn't believe that.

But what was the alternative? That she felt nothing? That she felt... joy? She liked all that pain she'd caused so many people?

"Ladybug." Chat Noir's hand on her shoulder broke her from her ruminations, the sound of his ring and her earrings beeping cementing her in the moment. "We should go."

They swung away in opposite directions, Ladybug landing somewhere a little too close to her parent's bakery, but with a timer too short to care. "Tikki, spots off." The transformation came undone, her Kwami floating up beside her.

Another day, another Akuma. It was starting to feel like she could fight them in her sleep. A yawn broke through as she started heading for the fire escape to the ground floor. In her sleep, wouldn't that be nice.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Tikki asked, giving a yawn, herself. "It's not good for you to stay up so late on the computer."

"Lesson learned," she mumbled, stepping onto the creaking metal. "Late night reading is a no-go." Especially when she still felt no closer to answering any of her questions. If anything, poring through the myriad interviews and articles on Chloe only left her with more questions. Maybe if she could actually track her down, she could ask a few, but Chloe seemed intent on avoiding her.

Marinette stumbled and almost fell on the last stair as she gripped the railing tightly. "Okay, definitely too tired for this." She walked out of the alleyway and looked down the street at all the businesses on either side. "How do you feel about coffee and cookies, Tikki?"

"Do I get the cookies?" She asked, wide-eyed.

Ladybug smirked down at the eager Kwami. "You get half the cookies," she allowed.

Tikki cheered, slipping back into the purse as Marinette began walking down the street proper.

"Did I hear someone say cookies?" A new voice asked, startling Marinette to the point she almost slipped and fell again. "Woah, there. Didn't mean to scare you that bad." Marinette turned to see Alix, outside of her police uniform this time, wearing a plain grey hoodie and jeans. After a moment, Alix turned left and right, quizzically. "Were you talking to someone?"

Unconsciously, Marinette brought her purse a little closer to her. "Just myself."

She shrugged. "Whatever gets your thoughts in order, I guess. You heading to your parents' bakery? I was just about to pick something up."

Marinette nodded, following Alix's lead down the street. She was sure her parents would fuss over how tired she looked, but they still had coffee and the best cookies in Paris, so she could live with a bit of fussing. Especially with how ragged she seemed to be running herself, lately. She was glad the Winter Line hadn't hit any major snags yet, or she'd probably already have collapsed in her studio.

"So, I hear you're working for Gabriel Agreste now, is he as much of a pill as he is on TV?" Alix wondered aloud, almost making Marinette trip again.

"I don't know if he's a pill," she hedged, smiling in a way that definitely seemed like more of a grimace. "He's just very driven and strives for perfection. It's really not that bad once you get started, and my work's improved by loads since then."

"I don't know. Seems like you've always been driven and striving for perfection, too, but I also don't see compilations of you firing people, online," Alix pointed out.

Marinette had to acknowledge the point, but she wasn't quite ready to start badmouthing her employer yet. "How about you? You're a cop now, how did that happen?"

Alix scratched the back of her head, looking away. "That's kind of a long story," she admitted, slowly, "short version, putzed around for a few years after school, got kicked in the teeth by life a bit, cleaned up and managed to knuckle down through police academy." She shrugged. "One or two things about the job I could whinge or whine about, but I've never regretted it. Feels good to help people, you know?"

A smile snuck its way across Marinette's face. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

They walked into the Dupain-Cheng bakery, Marinette's father greeting Alix, then spying Marinette and calling out for her mom, until a few moments later the family was in a group hug.

Alix took a seat, lazily glancing up at the chalkboard menu to avoid staring at them, pleased, for too long.

The hug broke up soon enough, and Marinette's father went to take Alix's order as her mother tutted over the designer's less-than crisp appearance.

Alix had to agree, Marinette looked downright rough. She didn't just look tired, but beat down in a way Alix had only ever seen from time to time on-duty, well, that or Chloe, but she was an exception in a number of ways. Should she ask about it? But they were just meeting up again, better to wait and see if it comes up naturally, she decided.

Marinette finally managed to worm her way free from her mom, sitting down across from Alix, looking a bit embarassed. "Sorry about that. They can be a little much, sometimes."

Alix, for her part, looked amused. "They're good people, talk about you all the time. I'm a little surprised I don't see you in here more, honestly."

"Just busy," Marinette sighed. "Between all my work for Monsieur Agreste and..." she hesitated, dropping whatever she was going to say. "I've been swamped for what seems like forever."

"Well take some time off," Alix suggested. "Don't tell me that fancy designer job doesn't have vacation days."

"That's the thing," she groaned, "I have vacation days, but I'm working on the Winter line and if I take any time off before that's finished, I'll never be able to look Monsieur Agreste in the eye again."

"There's that driven perfectionist I know," Alix said teasingly as Marinette's dad dropped off a plate of cookies and coffee for Marinette and a chocolate eclair with milk for Alix. She eyed Marinette's selection, curiously. "Not planning on going to sleep yet, huh?"

She smiled, sheepishly. "I'm still a ways away from my apartment."

Alix chuckled. "Why don't you put the coffee down and crash at my place tonight? Doesn't look like you should be awake any longer than absolutely necessary, and I live really close."

"I look that bad, huh?" She asked, good-humoredly.

This was one of those times, Alix thought, that someone really good at being friends would have an answer. "Uh..." she completely blanked.

Marinette laughed, tiring quickly, but still smiling afterward. "Yeah, okay, point taken. If you really don't mind, I'd love a place to crash tonight." She knew her parents would have been happy to make up her bed and have her stay there, but since her former bedroom was currently an excess storage space, she really didn't want to put them to the trouble of digging out a path to her bed and then making it, especially since they'd have to wake up so early the next morning to have everything freshly baked for the breakfast rush.

Alix beamed as Marinette set the coffee to the side, tucking the cookies in her purse, she assumed for later. After she finished off her eclair and milk, both girls stood, saying their goodbyes to the bakery owners before walking out the door.

True to her word, Alix's place was fairly close by. They had to pass through a convenience store taking up the first floor and go up some stairs, but besides being a little messy, it was a nice apartment.

Alix hurriedly grabbed bits of trash and laundry off the floor and various furniture, tucking it away a little embarassedly. "Sorry, didn't plan for guests today."

"Alix, even if I wasn't way too tired to care," Marinette yawned for emphasis, "my place looks exactly the same, so it's fine."

Alix laughed, grabbing a clean set of sheets and a blanket that thankfully weren't buried under assorted detritus. "That's gotta drive Chloe nuts."

"Wouldn't know; she's never been to my place," Marinette answered sleepily, watching Alix spread the sheets over the couch, longingly. "Wouldn't have guessed she's a cleanfreak."

"Have you seen her apartment?" Alix scoffed. "It's like she's waged a personal war on clutter."

"Haven't seen her apartment, either," Marinette's eyes began to glaze over.

Alix looked over, her expression confused. "I thought Adrien said you two were friends."

"Misunderstanding," she mumbled. "Chloe hates me."

"Well that doesn't make any sense." Alix's eyebrows furrowed. "Did something happen?"

"Make sense..." Marinette hummed a quiet laugh. "Chloe never makes sense." Her eyes slid fully closed and it seemed for a moment like she was going to start sleeping right then and there.

Alix sighed, standing up and guiding the nearly unconscious Marinette onto the couch, drawing the blankets up over her.

When she moved to head for her own bed, a tiny whimper stopped her. Alix turned to see Marinette's sleeping face twisted into a pained expression. "Why does she hate me?"

Alix patted her arm, drawing reassuring circles in the pale, clear, skin. She wished she could say, 'she doesn't hate you.' But, really...

Who knew what went on in Chloe's head?

(:*:)

Chat Noir leaped through the Paris streets, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop after the latest defeated Akuma. It was yet another mind control one, so obviously not a great time, but they dispatched it reasonably easily. The only shame was that it was so late at night by that point.

Still, Chloe was there on top of the roof when he finally came to a stop and detransformed. "You still haven't told her, have you?" She asked, the disappointment in her tone making him wince.

Adrien took a bit of camembert out of a plastic container in his pocket and handed it to an eager Plagg. "There hasn't been a good time. Usually, we only see each other when we're fighting Akuma, and that doesn't leave a lot of room for long discussions."

"Adrien," she snapped, forcefully. "This is important. You can't put off telling her you're leaving until you're already on the plane."

"I know, and of course she should know," he agreed, frustration leaking into his voice. "But once I tell her, everything will be weird. I already have a big doomsday clock counting down until I have to leave, I don't want her to have one, too. Can't it just wait one more week?"

Chloe's lips pursed as she put her hands on her hips, glaring at him warningly. "And Chat Noir?"

"What about Chat Noir?" He asked.

"You can't take the Miraculous with you, and that means someone else will have to wear it. Trying to find a suitable wielder might take months on its own, and don't you think that's a discussion you and Ladybug should have together? Every day you keep her in the dark is another day without Chat Noir after you leave."

"You don't know that," Adrien differed. "She never had a problem picking who to give any of the other Miraculouses, why should mine be any different?"

"Maybe because it's yours?" Chloe shot back, unimpressed with his reasoning. "The others were one-off, spur of the moment decisions, this is a full time partner, specifically replacing one she's spent ages fighting and building trust with. I know I have a doctorate in the subject, so this might not be fair, but could you consider how she feels for a second and a half? At best, replacing you is a monstrous inconvenience. At worst, she likes you back and you're gonna break her heart."

Adrien groaned, slumping against the rooftop wall. "That's what I'm afraid of: if she likes me back, telling her I'm gonna leave is going to ruin the time I have left with her. I'll break her heart."

"And if she doesn't like you back?" Chloe asked, a single eyebrow raised.

"It'll still be ruined," he sighed. "She'll break my heart."

"Either way," Chloe shook her head, decisively. "Making sure the ring gets passed on to the right person is more important than anyone's feelings. You'll have to suck it up and tell her; that's just the price of being a superhero."

Adrien chuckled. "You know, Ladybug said almost the exact same thing the other day. I guess you two are more focused than..." he paused, bringing a hand slowly to his chin in thought, "me..."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Plagg?" He turned to the black creature, the cheese already long devoured. "How do you feel about going out again, tonight?"

Plagg yawned, idly licking a paw. "I could take it or leave it."

"That's the best we're gonna get," Adrien said, slipping the ring off his finger and holding it out to her. "Want to try it on?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed, dangerously. She didn't reach for the ring. "Ladybug would never choose me to be Chat Noir."

Adrien's smile fell, but he kept holding the ring up to her. "Don't you think you're being a bit hard on yourself? You spend so much time and energy helping people; I think Ladybug would appreciate that more than anyone." When she still made no move to take it, he sighed. "Would it be so bad if I chose you?"

"Without even talking to Ladybug about it?" She asked.

"Ladybug wanted us to keep our identities secret, even to each other. When it was inconvenient, when we were in danger, she still insisted on that. If she chose the next Chat Noir with me, she'd know who you are. Do you really think that's what she'd want?" He stretched his hand out further, but she still didn't reach for it. As the minutes stretched on while she remained silent, his hand finally fell, closing around the ring. "Fine. I'll talk to Ladybug about it, we'll decide how to pick the next wielder, together. But you should know, if it's up to me, I'm gonna choose you."

"I really hope Ladybug has more sense than to put you in charge of something like that," Chloe replied, deadpan.

"I think I can talk her around to it," he answered flippantly. "But you might as well get some practice in while you have the expert here to train you." He held up the ring again, to her annoyance. "Look, nothing's permanent without Ladybug's say-so, we both agree on that. What's the harm in trying it out, though? Even if it ends up going to someone else," he mumbled something about finding that unlikely, "the most we've done is wasted some time and had some fun."

Plagg yawned again, looking almost as annoyed as Chloe. "Whatever you do, could you do it quickly? This whole conversation is boring."

"This is ridiculous," Chloe mumbled, snatching the ring roughly out of Adrien's hand and putting it on. "Plagg, claws out."

Adrien stared, dumbfounded as she transformed in front of him. "Wow," he said eventually. "That's... different."

(:*:)

Out of ways for Alya Cesaire to wake, a phone call was really the most common. Normally it was from her editor, asking for clarification on a point, or a source, or wondering where that article is she promised to send in yesterday and if he finds out she spent all night out chasing Akuma again he's gonna lock her in the office so maybe she can get some typing done and go to sleep at a reasonable hour.

It's possible she had developed a reputation.

Sometimes the call was more personal, like from her sisters or parents and for those she'd normally let their words wash over her as she staggered to the coffee maker to brew some manner of consciousness.

The calls from Marinette and her other friends didn't come as often as they once did, but rain or shine, she was always ready to hear their problems and offer soothing words or advice, or just straight up gossip with.

But there was no way to get her out of bed faster than a call for a story.

Nighttime Akumas were rare. Akumas not dealt with immediately, even rarer. An Akuma that didn't speak, didn't cause chaos, and disappeared almost as quickly as it showed up with neither hide nor hair of Ladybug or Chat Noir, now that was definitely worth a look.

"You said it went through here?" Alya climbed over a bit of broken fence, taking pictures from time to time, searching for information on the identity of the latest Akuma.

Rosalind Thorne, a kind old lady Alya had spoken to before, slowly stepped after her. "Oh, yes, quiet as can be. I'd never even have noticed if it wasn't for Tootles."

Alya raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the destroyed fence. "Quiet?"

Rosalind's eyes steadily tracked the gesture before realization hit. "What? Goodness, no, I only wish an Akuma caused this. A bunch of kids causing a ruckus tore through here about a week ago. Haven't gotten anyone around to fix it yet, is all. You know, it's these irresponsible parents that let their kids get up to all this nonsense. I'd have half a mind to knock some sense into them to get a handle on their kids, if the police ever did their jobs worth a darn."

Alya didn't tune her out, a journalist should always keep an ear open for anything important, but she did filter a bit heavily. After Miss Thorne had entered her fourth or fifth tangent, Alya decided to move her back on course. "You mentioned a Tootles?"

"That's my cat, a little black tabby. Say hello, Tootles." She reached for an impressively sized nearby housecat who dashed away almost instantly. "Oh, there he goes. Can't tie cats down anywhere, you know."

"Your cat reacted to the Akuma in some way?" Alya looked down where the ground was particularly soft, at the lightest of imprints featured there. A bootprint? She took a picture, either way.

"Made an awful racket, hissing and scratching. If there wasn't a window between the two of them, I'm sure Tootles would have attacked it, himself." Rosalind seemed proud of this fact despite the almost certain outcome of a tabby fighting an Akuma.

"So you saw the Akuma?" Alya turned her attention back to the old woman.

"I did," she confirmed, "but there's not much I can tell you. Couldn't make out any part of it in the dark, 'cept two cold, blue, feline eyes."

"Feline eyes?" Alya asked, crossing her arms. "You're sure this wasn't just another cat, you saw?"

"I may be old, but I know how big a housecat is," she snapped, "and there isn't a snowball's chance in hell a panther can jump from the top of my fence to the roof next door without making a single sound."

Alya took a look at the distance between the fence and roof. Forget a panther, no one should have been able to make that jump. Which meant it was almost certainly an Akuma.

"Can you remember anything else that happened? Anything it did or said?" Alya asked, but she already knew the answer.

"Nope. Nothing at all." She'd already talked to four others who had seen it, and apparently the height of the Akuma's activity had been to stare at Miss Thorne's cat when the tabby hissed at it.

She honestly wasn't sure if this was the most interesting Akuma or the most boring. Either way, it was definitely news.

It wasn't that most Akuma weren't intelligent, some of their tactics were good enough to fool Ladybug and Chat Noir, after all. It was more that a majority of Akuma weren't exceptionally subtle. Even the trickier ones were usually discovered pretty quickly.

But there was always the chance this one was discovered and dealt with before it had the chance to do anything. That's where the Ladyblog came in.

While the website from her school days was mostly defunct by that point, it had an important feature she'd added that even in the present, she still used from time to time. That being, since Ladybug didn't have any kind of public telephone, Alya could still send her messages on the public forum asking to meet, that Ladybug would get alerted to, like shining a distress signal into the sky. Sometimes she'd come immediately, sometimes it'd take longer, but one way or another, Ladybug would always be there.

She tapped out a quick message asking if Ladybug knew anything about a strange Akuma the night before, and posted it, saying goodbye to Miss Thorne as she checked through her notes.

She'd already interviewed the best targets. The ones that were left had all only seen it from a distance or were generally a retread of information she already had. Her editor did forward an amateur photograph someone managed to snag, though it was hopelessly blurry. Really, the most it did was confirm, yes, the Akuma was not a panther.

It was a few hours later, as Alya sat in a nearby cafe, waiting for the meal bridging her missed breakfast and most likely to be skipped lunch, the red and black form of Ladybug flipped onto the street outside, making her way in and sitting across from the journalist.

"Alya," she greeted, looking friendly but perturbed, "it's been a while."

"Good to see you again, Ladybug." Alya quickly tapped at her phone, pulling up the blurred photo and passing it over. "Know anything about this?"

She squinted down at it for a few moments before passing it back. "Is this supposed to be that Akuma you mentioned?"

"Supposed to be," she confirmed. "Never heard of an Akuma that acts like this, though. You're saying you and Chat Noir didn't fight it during the night?"

"We were fighting Marionette until late. Normally, Hawkmoth needs some time between Akumatizations to recharge, though. Are you sure this is an Akuma and not one of those superhero copycats?" The waiter brought Alya's food and Ladybug waved him off when he asked if she wanted to order anything.

"Funny choice of words," Alya commented, biting into a thick sandwich and chewing for a few moments before swallowing. "The only feature I've been able to get about it so far is that it has a nice big pair of bright blue cat eyes."

"Contacts?" Ladybug suggested.

Alya shook her head. "Akuma. I don't care if you're an olympic longjumper, some of the things people saw just flat out can't be done without a magical boost."

"Magical boost, huh?" Ladybug hummed, eyes narrowing, suspiciously. "You said this Akuma had cat eyes?"

"Yeah. Why? Do you know something?" Her sandwich had been momentarily forgotten as a notepad and pencil had somehow found their way into her hands.

"A hunch," she hedged, taking the yoyo from her belt and flipping it open. "Do you mind if I make a call?"

Alya shook her head and gestured in a 'go right ahead,' fashion. A few seconds later, the yoyo began to ring.

It took a few rings, but Alya could see the face of Chat Noir appear in the screen. "My Lady? Everything alright?"

"Chat, after the fight with Marionette, did anything odd happen to you?" Ladybug asked, one hand drumming softly on the countertop.

He thought for a few moments before shaking his head. "Not that I noticed. Was there something your Lucky Charm missed?"

"I'm trying to figure that out. You didn't notice your Kwami disappearing at any point, did you?" She pressed, the drumming getting faster.

"Did your Kwami disappear?" He asked, alarmed.

"No, just, answer the question, please?"

"Plagg never disappeared," he answered, adding, "and with how loud he is most of the time, I'd definitely notice, if he did. It could have happened sometime while I was asleep, but I turned in late and he never said anything in the morning."

Ladybug sighed, and the drumming stopped. "Okay," she said to a very puzzled looking Chat. "Thanks, I'll call you later and fill you in."

He gave an exaggerated bow. "I look forward to hearing from you, my lady."

The yoyo flipped closed.

"What was that about?" Alya asked, finally noticing her meal once again and finishing her sandwich.

"Apparently, a dead end." She grumbled. "Chat's been acting weird lately..." she trailed off and shook her head a moment later. "It doesn't matter. Is there anything else about this Akuma you can tell me?"

(:*:)

Ladybug's face disappeared from the screen and Chat Noir retracted his staff, slumping backward onto the hotel room bed. "Claws in." His transformation faded.

"She was talking about me, you know," Chloe commented, staring out the window with an odd sort of longing.

"What do you mean?" Adrien sat up on the bed, looking over.

"When she was asking about your Kwami." She turned to face him, her expression an iron wall. "She knows I used your Miraculous."

He scoffed, lightly. "She asked if Plagg went missing, not if I gave my ring to anyone, and she certainly didn't mention anything about you."

"Someone must have seen me last night, maybe even gotten a picture, and when Ladybug saw it, she put two and two together and knew it was someone else using the Cat Miraculous." Chloe had begun pacing back and forth by this point, speech growing just slightly more frantic.

"Who's out taking pictures of rooftops at one in the morning?" Adrien wondered aloud, as Chloe took out her phone and began tapping at it. "Besides, I don't know if I saw a picture of you transformed, if my first thought would be 'Chat Noir,' it'd probably be more like, 'Akuma.'"

"You're not the only one," she revealed, passing her phone to him so he could read the Ladyblog message.

He shrugged, handing the phone back to her. "So? They think you're an Akuma, so what? They still don't know it's you, and I'll explain everything to Ladybug when I tell her about my moving away."

Chloe took the phone, frowning deeply. "So you say."

Adrien rolled his eyes, slipping the ring off his finger once again. "I might be offended by the lack of trust if I thought there was literally anyone you actually trusted. Up for some more practice?"

She raised on eyebrow, imperiously. "I trust Ladybug's judgement."

He held up the ring. "Liar."

She took it.

Chapter Text

It took four seconds every time. Chloe timed it, of course. No matter what size a person was, no matter the body part, or where it hit them, always four seconds. The dependability of it all was too perfect, it tickled some fancy in the back of her mind, and even when she was sure it was four seconds every time, she couldn't help but count.

It took four seconds to kill a person with Cataclysm.

No body, no blood, no evidence at all, if she did it without witnesses, it was like they were never there at all. The five minute time limit to escape after that was annoying, but enhanced strength, reflexes, jumping, and climbing ability made up for it mostly.

Adrien didn't know what she did on the 'practice patrols' he'd begun sending her out on, letting her use the ring more and more, but he had to suspect something. He couldn't have used Cataclysm for years and never seen a weapon. He couldn't pick up a newspaper or turn on the news for the string of recent disappearances and never thought, what if? Still, he kept giving the ring to her, insisting she practice just a little more.

Plagg never mentioned it. She was fairly sure he didn't know what went on when she was transformed, which made their conversations a bit forced at times. Apparently, Adrien had noticed this, though, so he had ordered some one on one bonding between the two, no transforming allowed.

It was around this time she realized she truly hadn't the slightest idea what to think of Plagg. With Pollen, this wasn't an issue simply by virtue of Pollen only being in her possession for a minute at most before she needed to transform. Plagg, if Adrien was to be believed, would be a constant companion, a friend.

With the way Plagg seemed to glare at her every time he thought she wasn't looking, it seemed he thought about the same thing she did on the subject.

"So what do Kwami's... do, exactly?" She asked, eventually. She liked the silence of her apartment, so rarely felt the need to break it, but Adrien had sent them there specifically to 'bond' and they were on a time crunch.

"Eh," Plagg shrugged. "Float around, eat cheese, make sarcastic comments. That's mostly what I do, anyway. What do you do?"

Chloe considered for a moment. How did she become friends with people, again? Alix's situation was irreplicable, Adrien's was due to a childhood of loneliness, then there was bribery... no, none of those would work.

Then again, she didn't really need to become 'friends' with the Kwami, so much as make it accept her somewhat. Working that out would make things run much smoother with Adrien, and would probably prevent him from trying to force them together like this again. Introduce a commonality, perhaps? But what would she have in common with a spirit?

"Well, I work at Honeycomb, I administrate my mother's magazine and my father's hotels, I do postal work from time to time." Her eyebrows furrowed. Those were all just her jobs. "I shop, and watch TV," she continued.

"Adrien doesn't like TV," Plagg sighed. "I never got to see enough of it." There was a pause. "What do you watch?"

It was a stilted conversation, certainly, but it was also a start. "I like cooking shows," she said after a moment. Had she ever told anyone that?

"Do you cook?" Plagg asked.

She shook her head. "I've tried a few times over the years, but I've never really been good at... making things."

The cat Kwami chuckled. "That makes two of us."

Chloe smiled, lopsidedly. "I think watching them create like that, cooking no matter what constraints or pressures they may be under, it reminds me of her."

Plagg knew exactly who she was talking about. "Ladybug sure is something, isn't she?"

"Yes," Chloe agreed. "She sure is."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Plagg flew to her television screen, pressing up against it. "Those cooking shows aren't gonna watch themselves."

Chloe gave an inward sigh of relief as she picked up the remote and turned the TV on. Commonality found.

It was during the dessert portion of their latest show around three hours later, Adrien found them, buried in camembert and Indian takeout, respectively.

"Man, Francois should throw in the towel," Plagg commented, shoveling a large cheese wheel into his mouth.

Chloe shrugged. "He's got good presentation."

"He's got okay presentation," Plagg corrected, "and he can't whip cream, it's embarrassing."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "It looks fine."

"It's still liquid," he protested. "He whisked it for two seconds then had to run to the ice cream maker and never got back to it. I can't believe he looked at a bowl of milk and just decided, 'yeah, that's fine to put on my crepes.' Isn't this guy supposed to be a professional?"

Chloe had to admit, it was possible Francois had attempted to do a few too many things at once in the time limit they had. The whipped cream had definitely suffered. "It doesn't matter anyway; Jeanne burned the compote. There's no recovering from that."

Plagg waved a paw. "Nah, she caramelized the outside. No way anyone can tell a little burning through caramel."

Chloe scoffed. "You realize the people judging this are trained chefs, right? I'm pretty sure they can tell."

"She spent pretty much the entire time working on that compote, they gotta love it," he assured her.

Chloe shook her head. "Spent the whole time doing that and now it's burned. She's got nothing."

"What did I walk into?" Adrien wondered aloud.

Both sets of eyes turned to him.

"Adrien," Plagg called, zooming forward to greet his friend as Chloe went to mute the television.

"Have you just been watching TV this whole time?" He asked.

"We were bonding," Chloe and Plagg said at the same time.

Adrien opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again a moment after, shrugging. "Well, that is what I asked for." He gently rubbed the top of Plagg's head. "You have a good time with Chloe?"

Plagg turned around and looked at her, uncertainty painted over his face. She only saw it for a moment, a few seconds at most, before he turned away. "Yeah," he assured Adrien. "She's great."

Chloe was under the distinct impression she'd just passed some sort of test. Barely.

Adrien beamed at the evaluation. "Glad to hear it." He turned his attention to her. "Ready to go out for another patrol?"

A bad feeling sunk in her stomach, some unexplained dread seeping into her skin. She ignored it, of course. Even for such a short time, she wielded the fundamental force of destruction, incomparable to the measly power the Bee Miraculous brought. It was hardly the sort of thing a lowly criminal could lay low.

"Plagg, Claws Out." The feeling of the transformation surrounded her, strength and agility running through her body like volts on a wire.

She was unstoppable.

(:*:)

It was a harsh lesson Ladybug had learned some time ago about Akumas: while the Akumatization victim couldn't and shouldn't be blamed for their actions while Akumatized, as reflections of their character those actions could often be telling of their capabilities.

Nino as the Bubbler, pushed his tendency to put his own personal enjoyment over responsibility to its extreme. This wasn't to say he would start kidnapping parents and launching them into space, but that weakness the Bubbler exhibited came directly from Nino, she could see it.

Mrs. Bustier as Zombizo put overall peace over individuality or choice. It was easy to see in her tendency to deal with problems like Chloe and Lila how her Akumatized form would gain that trait.

So when people began disappearing, when there was no bubble or statue or black knight to replace them, when days passed without a sign, Ladybug knew they were dead.

Which meant the person who had been Akumatized had the capacity for direct, coldblooded, murder. It was far from the first time, but to have it paired so easily with stealth and precision made the implications decidedly unpleasant.

If the killings were targeted, she might be able to find a pattern, track the Akuma down and stop it. If the killings were random, she'd simply have to wait until it made a mistake. But there was another possibility that made her skin crawl whenever she considered it: the killings were practice. Akumas always had some instinctual knowledge of their powers, but more often than not, their downfall came by overestimating or not fully understanding them, but for an Akuma like this to practice its powers, to practice murder so it could kill them and take their Miraculouses. She hated to think of it.

The fact Chat Noir wasn't answering her calls only made it worse.

So what was she doing? Was she working with Alya trying to find a connection betwen the disappearances? Was she back in the office finishing the Winter line or, god forbid, back home getting some sleep? No. She was perched on a rooftop in the same general area the last disappearance took place, straining her eyes in the darkness looking for something, any sign the Akuma was there.

Ladybug sighed, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frigid breeze. While technically it was still Autumn, Winter's bite was already making itself known.

"And I'm sitting on top of a roof, cold and alone, because I might catch a glimpse of a murderer that I'm, obviously, going to take down all by myself," she mumbled sarcastically to herself. "Ladybug: Queen of Plans, that's what they call me."

She waited another ten or so minutes before standing up, ready to give up the vigil and try something else.

She wouldn't have seen it if she hadn't been staring directly at it. For a fraction of a second, the streetlamp ahead of her seemed to flicker as a dark shape passed in front of it, moving unnaturally quickly.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the shape move. Bingo.

With a flick of her wrist, her yoyo shot forward, wrapping around a chimney, and she pulled herself to the next rooftop, then the next, and the next, chasing the figure, almost invisible in the night.

She didn't think there was anywhere in Paris the streetlights couldn't reach, yet here this Akuma was, scuttling through shadows like a cockroach in the light.

Suddenly its movements changed, faster, more sporadic and her eyes narrowed as she quickened her pursuit as well.

It had seen her.

She moved across rooftops, then alleys, then streets, as it kept changing venues trying to lose her. It would take out a light, she'd block a door. It would crash through a window, she'd swing barriers in front of it. It would dive for a person, she'd wrench them out of the way. No. This Akuma may have been good, but nothing could match the sheer practice and skill she'd acquired over years of superheroics, and with each new attempt its desperation grew. She was gaining ground, it knew.

Finally, she cornered it, in some long closed cafe, one doorway and she was in front of it. No more running. "That was quite a chase you led me on," she said evenly, staring down two ice blue eyes with catlike slits. With one hand, she reached over to the lightswitch and flicked it on, both of them wincing for a moment as they adjusted to the light.

The Akuma's outfit was far from the flashy pastels most tended to be, but as far as exceptions to the rule, why should it stop at appearance? Black boots with steel bottoms, black trousers that seemed to shift from denim to spandex as it moved, bare pale arms ending in leather gloves sharpened into cat claw points, it was reserved, to be sure, but that wasn't what drew her eye. Because on her face, as it was indeed a 'her,' was a flat mask, black as night, running from the bottom of her chin to the tops of her spiky golden hair, its only ornaments diamond shaped holes for her eyes, and twin points at the top like some caricature of a cat's ears.

"Cute," Ladybug remarked, idly, her gaze finally shifting from the ears to her eyes once again, the only part of her face that was visible through the mask. "But you should really leave the cat motif to my partner."

The catlike girl's eyes flicked from left to right as she searched for a clean escape, finding none. She pressed herself flat against the wall, like just wishing hard enough would make it give way, but to no avail.

Ladybug put her hands on her hips. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"

To Ladybug's surprise, she shook her head in response.

"Most Akumas would have said their name by now, at least," she began spinning her yoyo around, stepping forward. "It probably won't matter, but is there at least something I can call you? You can't just keep being, 'the Akuma' in my head."

Her voice was muffled from behind the mask, warped somewhat but clear enough to be understandable. "You're awfully chatty when your partner's not around."

"So she speaks." Ladybug continued forward, yoyo still spinning, poised for whatever tricks she might pull. "And who says my partner's not around?"

She couldn't tell through that damnable mask, but she suspected the Akuma was smirking. "Call it a hunch."

She was only a few feet away when Ladybug finally stopped advancing. "Fine, then, don't give me a name. I'll just make something up to put on those Akuma tracker sites."

"I've seen those sites," she remarked, muscles tensing. "Not a fan." Before Ladybug's yoyo could smash into the wall where she'd just been standing, she sprung to the side, sliding over the counter and out of sight.

It didn't take more than an instant for her to yank the yoyo back to her hand and dive after the Akuma. The steel-toed kick to her face as she landed on the other side of the counter forced her to regret the reflex, however, and she forced eyes stinging with tears to follow her quarry as the Akuma dashed for the door once again.

Breaking out into the street, it seemed the Akuma had abandoned all pretense of staying out of sight. Speed and escape became her only goals. By the way she moved through the streets, it seemed she knew Paris pretty well.

It was a shame Ladybug knew it so much better.

The Akuma was diving between and around civilians who had apparently not taken the hint they should run yet, so using her yoyo could have been dangerous.

Using her body to tackle the Akuma into a grocery store, though? Perfectly safe.

It was possible going so long with magic powers that allowed her to reset all damage once an Akuma was caught made Ladybug a bit reckless. Though, fighting to save a Chat Noir that had almost definitely been killed certainly didn't help anything.

The Akuma rolled to her feet, shards of glass from the window they'd just smashed through falling off her like raindrops.

"You know, for all the robots, babies, and countless other strange Akuma's I've fought, you might be the weirdest." The Akuma was crouched, poised to move, but beyond a few heavy breaths she didn't. "No name, no demand for my Miraculous, you haven't even attacked me yet." Ladybug quirked her head. "Why?"

"Would you give me your Miraculous if I demanded it?" She asked.

"No," Ladybug answered, evenly.

"Then what's the point of demanding it?" Her eyes flicked left and right again, just like they had in the cafe, before locking on Ladybug's. "If I told you my name, would you let me go?"

Ladybug frowned. "No."

The Akuma shrugged, voice unchanging. "Then what's the point of giving it?"

Her frown deepened.

"If I attacked you, would I win?" At Ladybug's silence, she laughed, hollowly. "I think my 'strangeness' says more about the quality of Hawkmoth's minions than it does about me."

Ladybug pushed the separation she used for Hawkmoth to the back burner. "I don't think you can really comment on the state of 'Hawkmoth's minions,'." She said, icily. "Especially considering most of them aren't murderers."

"Does it make a difference the people I killed were all unrepentant killers and criminals, themselves?" She asked in return.

"Murder is murder," Ladybug answered, flatly. "You're kidding yourself if you think there's some kind of righteous justice to it."

She quirked her head. "Are you saying if Hawkmoth was in this room, right now, you wouldn't kill him?"

Ladybug took a step back, shocked by the question. "What? Absolutely not."

"I would," she admitted easily.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you even an Akuma?"

"I really couldn't say anymore," she admitted, no sadness in her voice, but a sort of detached introspection, instead. "Do you think you're only an Akuma while the butterfly's inside you? Or is there some part of Hawkmoth left behind, even when it leaves?"

Ladybug furrowed her brows, confused. "What are you saying?"

She sighed, staring off into space for a moment. "I suppose it doesn't matter." She considered for a moment. "Catspaw."

"Catspaw?"

"My name," she said, by way of explanation. "It seemed fitting." She crouched down, placing her fingers on the ground like a sprinter at the starting line.

Ladybug started spinning her yoyo once again. "I thought you said there was no point in giving a name."

"I did. But it wouldn't be fair to leave without giving you something to remember me by," she answered.

"You don't have to do this. If you stop fighting me, I can help you," Ladybug said, pleadingly.

"See, that's the funny thing." Catspaw looked up, humor glinting in her slit eyes. "I genuinely believe you could."

Ladybug was expecting a frontal assault, first and foremost, but a retreat wasn't out of the question. Most of all, the fact Catspaw hadn't shown whatever method she'd used to make those people disappear was never far from her mind. All of this, she was expecting.

Catspaw didn't do any of this.

She jumped, sailing overhead and landing through the glass doorway, already smashed from their entrance, and onto the street outside.

There was an expression in her eyes, that tickled some familiarity in Ladybug's mind. If the mask didn't cover her whole face, if her eyes themselves weren't so inhuman, if she held there for more than a moment before dashing away on all fours, maybe she could have recognized it. As it was, Catspaw disappeared into the night, leaving Ladybug with little more than a feeling.

She tried to follow, but even the brief gap Catspaw was out of sight seemed to be enough to lose her. The fact her muscles were starting to ache from the long chase didn't help.

It was the work of a few minutes more, Marinette was once again sequestered in her apartment, her transformation undone.

"You didn't catch the Akuma?" Tikki asked, floating beside her with a worried expression.

Marinette filled a glass of water from the sink, downing it in a few gulps before slumping down on an armchair. "Tikki, if you were ever passed on to someone else, do you think some part of you would stay with me?"

Tikki considered for a minute. "I really don't know," she admitted, eventually. "I'd like to think so."

Marinette hummed for a moment, thoughts of the strange conversations she'd had filtering through her mind. "No," she answered, eventually. "I didn't catch the Akuma."

"Are you alright?" Tikki asked, next.

Marinette's muscles protested as she made to stand again, but she forced through it with the skill of someone used to overexertion.

"I need some air." She made it to the door and Marinette once again entered the cold streets of Paris.

(:*:)

Chloe Bourgeois staggered into her apartment, wincing as every other step knifed pain through her exhausted frame. Her transformation had faded long before, leaving the walk back to her apartment almost unbearable.

She grimaced down at her left leg and the angry brown and purple bruise spreading down it like a stain on her skin. She hadn't been sure the first few blocks, but it was definitely broken. At first she assumed it was when they crashed into the grocery store, but it could easily have happened back when she'd tried kicking Ladybug in the face and the adrenaline prevented her from feeling it until then.

With gritted teeth, she shoved past a concerned Adrien and made it to the couch, collapsing a moment after.

Being punished for her hubris was hardly new for her, but it almost never happened quite so quickly.

Plagg floated alongside her, trying to mask his own concern, but it showing just as clearly on him as it did on Adrien. With some difficulty, she finally wrenched the ring from her hand and passed it to the speechless model, reaching into her pocket to withdraw her cellphone.

"What happened?" Adrien finally managed to articulate, putting the ring on his own hand, causing Plagg to reappear a moment later.

Chloe ignored them, focusing on her phone as she typed out a call and held it to her ear. She hated the looks on their faces. It was her leg, not theirs; no need to look so torn up about it.

"112, what is your emergency?" The other end of the call finally connected.

"Yes, my leg is broken. I'd like an ambulance sent to my location," she answered, tersely. After an exchange or two more, she hung up the phone, assured an ambulance was on its way.

"Chloe, what is going on?" Adrien exploded when she was finally off the phone. "What happened out there, and if you were going to call an ambulance anyway instead of having me drive you to the hospital, what was the point of you getting all the way back here?"

"Oh, please, I had to return the ring," she said, like it was obvious. "I've had far too much jewelry get stolen at the hospital to risk losing something like that."

Adrien decided to table any discussion on whether or not any of the doctors had ever stolen her jewelry or if she had just misplaced or misremembered it, to another time. "And why didn't you just have me drive you to the hospital, since I'm already here and you're clearly in pain?"

She scoffed. "Maybe because you don't own a car, and mine's still on loan? I can fill you in on as many details as you want, Adrikins, but some of these should be pretty obvious."

He, likewise, ignored the patronizing tone she used. "Care to fill me in on some details about what exactly happened out there?"

"Ladybug happened," Chloe answered, visibly annoyed. "Which wouldn't have happened if you'd explained everything to her weeks ago."

Adrien cringed, visibly, at the accusation. "Okay, obviously I screwed up, there. I'm sor-"

She jabbed a finger at him, interrupting. "Say you're sorry, and you lose an eye," she warned, emphatically.

He held his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth to respond, but closing it again a moment later and simply nodding.

Chloe let her arm drop, sighing into the couch as she tried to ignore the throbbing pain in her leg. She wished the painful cuts and bruises she could feel littering other parts of her body distracted her, but they only seemed to draw the pain from her leg into sharper focus.

Plagg floated over to the TV remote and turned it on, flipping over to the cooking channel they'd been watching earlier.

"Plagg, this isn't the time for-" Adrien started to scold before the Kwami leveled a meaningful look at him, and tilted his head in the direction of Chloe. Adrien turned at what he was looking at, and nodded in understanding, letting his protest go.

Chloe stared blankly at the chefs, watching each color of the ingredients move back and forth in an almost soothing ritual. It didn't do anything to alleviate the pain, of course, but it was distracting enough, her leg wasn't all she was thinking about anymore.

They sat for ten minutes or so, the only sound coming from the TV, until finally the ambulance arrived. Chloe allowed herself to be carried in a stretcher and assured Adrien she'd be fine in the care of trained medical professionals, and that he should go home, already.

It looked like he was about ready to jump into the back of the ambulance, but finally, he relented. The doors closed and the ambulance sped away with Chloe inside.

X Rays, resetting the bone, tests, cast, treating her other injuries, questions, comments, the entire process seemed to last an absolute eternity where all Chloe could do was sit there and take it, granted take it with a smaller degree of agony which she greatly appreciated.

She was sure one of her earrings was missing when she finally left the hospital again. Annoying.

It shouldn't have been predictable when Alix was right outside as Chloe hobbled out on crutches, but somehow she'd already guessed she would be.

"You know, I thought we talked about calling me the next time you got hospitalized," Alix chided, frowning at the cast on Chloe's leg. "Who'd you piss off this time?"

Chloe moved unsteadily forward, eventually managing to climb into the passenger's seat of Alix's car before answering. "Ladybug."

Alix laughed, getting into the front seat. "Yeah, right." At the look on Chloe's face, though, she stopped laughing. "You're not kidding."

"I'm not exactly well known for my jokes," Chloe answered, deadpan.

An impressive groan sounded from Alix. "How did you even manage that?"

She shrugged. "There's a lot of moving parts, but the short version is: she thought I was an Akuma."

"And you didn't tell her you weren't?" Alix suggested, exasperatedly.

"That would have led to... awkward questions," she answered, impassively.

Alix threw her hands up. "Of course."

"It's just a broken leg." She rolled her eyes. "Hardly the first time."

"Absolutely not the point," Alix responded, solidly. "And still no excuse not to call me when you got hospitalized. You know I don't like hearing about it from Mindy."

"Legally, I'm pretty sure Mindy's not supposed to tell you when I get hospitalized," Chloe pointed out.

"Right, because you're oh-so obsessed with the law." Alix's tone was practically drowning in sarcasm.

"And you wonder why I tell people you're a dirty cop," Chloe observed, dryly.

Alix rolled her eyes, starting the car. "You're a handful, you know that?"

"You didn't have to come," Chloe mumbled, a yawn forcing its way out of her mouth. "It's the middle of the night."

"Right, I'm gonna let you take a cab back to your apartment and go up four flights of stairs on crutches." She said it like the idea was so ludicrous and not something Chloe had planned to do all along. "Besides, I wouldn't have had to come in the middle of the night if I thought you'd stay at the hospital like they probably told you to, for even a minute."

Chloe scowled. "I don't like doctors."

"You are a doctor," she pointed out. "But I know you don't, and I knew you wouldn't listen to them, which is why I'm here."

Chloe pressed her head against the cool glass of the window, the painkillers they'd given her feeling like they were draining her strength away. "I don't understand you."

Alix smiled, wanly, her eyes on the road as she drove on. "I know. But maybe someday, you will."

"Too tired to deal with you," she mumbled again, closing her eyes.

"Well go to sleep, you brat," Alix answered, her voice lacking any real venom. "I'll see you in the morning."

Chloe let the quiet hum of the car surround her, the cold glass press against her, and the slow drain of the anaesthetic pull her softly into sleep.

Chapter Text

Alix had never really planned on marrying anyone. It wasn't a conscious choice. She didn't wake up one day and say, 'no more dating,' or anything like that. She hadn't fully discounted the idea, either. She liked people, she liked weddings, and if she found someone she'd be happy with, then why not marry them? But at the same time, Alix would hear from couples at parties, or blogs online, or movies on TV, that before they'd met their husband or wife or whatever, it had felt like something was missing from their lives. They felt empty and incomplete without their 'other half.'

Alix felt fine.

So whenever the thought would occur, that it had been a while since she'd gone out on a date, or tried to meet someone at a bar or club or other cliched place, she would always simply shrug and return to whatever it was she was doing.

Why, then, after tucking Chloe into bed and answering the door to see a Marinette looking like she lost a fight with a pickup truck, did Alix feel like she was the proud mother of two teenage kids when last she checked, she'd never married anyone?

"Sorry, it's so late-" Marinette had begun to apologize, before Alix interrupted her.

"Are you kidding me?" Alix asked, disbelievingly. Marinette seemed just about to bolt like a frightened rabbit at the words, but she continued. "'Sorry it's late,' is something you say to plumbers when your toilet breaks at three in the morning. For me, you can just say, 'hi.'" She smiled, reassuringly, and walked back, gesturing Marinette to follow. "Come on, let's get some ice for that."

Marinette walked slowly inside and, somehow, the massive black eye she was sporting looked even worse in the light. Alix didn't have a dedicated ice pack, per-se, but she did have ice and plastic baggies, so good enough.

"Here," she handed the makeshift thing to Marinette, taking a seat in an armchair across from her. Marinette gave a muttered thanks, and held it against her face, the two of them sitting in silence for a few minutes. "It's not a boyfriend, is it?" Alix asked, eventually.

Marinette looked confused for a moment, before realization lit her face. "Ah, no, it's nothing like that." She pointed at her black eye, smiling thinly. "This is me getting into a fight with a stranger." Her hand dropped and she seemed to sag under an invisible weight. "It hasn't been a great day."

Her quiet admission almost echoed in the small apartment. "You wanna talk about it?"

"It's complicated." She lifted the icepack to her eye once again, and they sat in silence for a few minutes more. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Alix's eyebrows shot up. "Did you kill someone?"

Marinette waved her arms, emphatically. "No. Absolutely not," she hesitated, biting her lip before admitting, "I was just thinking about Timebreaker."

"Ah." Alix sunk back into her chair. "So when you asked if I've ever killed anyone, you already had an answer."

Marinette's hands clenched into fists. "That was not you," she said, tersely. "That was your pain, and your body, and a heap of Hawkmoth's mind control, but it wasn't you."

"Thanks," Alix said after a moment. "I didn't get Akumatized as much as some people, but it did happen, and not everyone... shares the same opinion."

"They're wrong," she said, assuredly. "Anyone who thinks that, hasn't had to-" she held her tongue, shaking her head instead of finishing what she was going to say. "You don't have to answer. I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm asking."

It took a minute to gather her thoughts, Marinette looking like she thought Alix would throw her out in that time, before she spoke again. "I've never killed anyone," she said, carefully. Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Alix spoke again. "But I almost did."

Marinette perked her ears up, looking at her with a curious expression.

"It was when I was just starting out on the force," she sighed, settling into telling the story. "I was so eager, wanting to prove... something, I dunno. I was out with my partner when we got a call someone robbed a convenience store, jabbing the poor kid working the register with a knife and leaving him critical. Looking for the guy covered in blood with a bag full of cash, wasn't hard, but catching up to an armed suspect in the middle of the day when he could have lashed out and hurt any number of people was much harder. We got close, but not close enough, when he spotted us."

Marinette didn't make a noise, but Alix felt too tired to check if she was still listening.

"He grabbed a hostage, some little girl, and broke away down a side street. We followed him, he had a knife to her throat, and I had a clear shot."

"You shot him?" Marinette asked, softly.

"No." Alix's lips curled into a dry smile. "The little girl got Akumatized before I could. My partner and I took down the guy, Ladybug and Chat Noir took down her, and everyone went home." She shrugged. "It's always funny, when I describe it to people, how small of a thing it was. One random guy, one random day, and if it wasn't for one random Akuma, I would have shot him dead. He probably would have died, there was no guarantee the little girl would make it out okay, two lives hung in the balance, and it still seems so small. Makes me feel crazy." She looked down at her lap and her hands unconsciously clenched into fists, there. "Seemed so big back then."

"I'm sorry," Marinette whispered. "That must have been horrible."

"Oh, in the moment, I was sure I was gonna throw up," Alix confirmed. "But looking back on it now, I just feel relieved. I don't have to spend time going through all my thoughts at the time, all my actions, picking apart what I might have done differently, because it all worked out; why would I want to change that?"

Marinette bit her lip. "And what if it didn't work out?"

Alix shrugged. "My mentor used to say if it hasn't worked out yet, maybe you're not done with it." She smiled. "Though he'd say it with more yelling."

Finally, Marinette gave a true, grateful, smile. "Yeah, I guess I'm just not done with it yet."

"I hope this means you aren't gonna get into more fights with strangers," Alix quipped. "I have a list of people I've been wanting to arrest, and you're not on there."

Marinette laughed, but didn't deny anything. Slightly concerning, but Alix brushed it off. 'Slightly concerning' was still leagues ahead of what Chloe got up to.

"So, since we already both know your apartment isn't close, you wanna crash here, tonight?" Alix offered, hoping Marinette would say yes, if for nothing else than so she wouldn't have to see her try and limp out on clearly exhausted legs. She hadn't heard a car, either, had she walked all the way there in the middle of the night?

She smiled, sheepishly. "Would you mind?"

"Course not." Alix waved her off, standing. "Blankets haven't moved since the last time you were here, fridge is still in the same place, and I'm going to bed."

They bade each other a tired goodnight and Marinette began setting up the couch, while Alix stole a few pillows the unconscious Chloe wasn't using and set them up on the carpet.

"There we go," she mumbled to herself, lying down on the makeshift bed. "Just like camping."

Alix slid to sleep with the idle thought that, at this rate, she should probably invest in another bed.

(:*:)

Coffee. That was the only thought in Marinette's mind as she clawed her way back to consciousness. She'd had rough nights before, but this was on an entirely different level.

"Tikki, have I ever mentioned how happy I am Lucky Charm resets everything?" Otherwise, she might come out of every fight feeling as worn out and in pain as she did right then.

They weren't even really fighting, that was the worst part. Catspaw spent more time running and dodging than landing hits, and still Marinette felt like she'd been dropped off the Eiffel Tower.

She tried, futilely to make it off the couch so she could get some coffee, but to no avail. After a few minutes, an already showered and fully clothed Alix walked into view, smiling chipperly. "Morning, Marinette. Sleep well?"

"Coffee," she mumbled, draping an arm over her eyes like it would block out just how bright Alix's grin was.

"No coffee, but I got tea, if you want some of that," she offered.

"No... coffee?" Marinette's early morning brain refused to comprehend the idea.

Another voice broke in. "Chai, please, for two, Alix. It looks like Marinette needs it." The voice was helpful, calm, sensitive, ah, that's where she knew it from.

Doctor B had arrived.

Marinette tried to twist her neck to see her, but even that caused her muscles to twinge in protest and she gave it up after a moment.

When did Chloe even get there, anyway? Marinette was sleeping on the couch by the door, and even though she'd been totally exhausted, she wasn't that heavy of a sleeper. But if Chloe hadn't come in, was she there already? Did she live there?

No, Alix mentioned Chloe having an apartment, when she was there last time. So that just meant Chloe was sleeping over. Sleeping over with Alix.

Ah.

"Here." Marinette felt a warm mug being pressed into her hands. "It's hot, so don't hurt yourself."

Marinette slowly managed something resembling a sitting position and began sipping the brown liquid. It was sweet, spiced with vanilla and cinnamon, and a few other odds and ends she couldn't place. It was also caffeinated, even if it didn't seem to work quite as fast as her usual morning coffee.

The room finally coming into something like focus as she woke up, she could see Chloe and Alix with similar mugs, though Chloe seemed more preoccupied with her phone than any drink. "How do you live in Paris, the coffee capital of the world, without even a cup of instant?" Marinette asked, blearily.

Alix opened her mouth to respond, but Chloe did first, eyes never leaving her phone. "Vienna."

Both sets of eyes turned to her. "What?" Alix asked.

"Vienna is the coffee capital of the world," she elaborated.

Alix huffed, genially. "Why would you possibly know that?" Chloe only shrugged in response. "This is one of your cooking show things, isn't it?"

Marinette perked her ears up at this. "You watch cooking shows?"

Chloe set her phone down, locking eyes with Marinette. "From time to time," she answered, a shallow smile slicked over her face like a patch of ice on a dark road. Her eyes so cold, they itched at a part of Marinette's brain she couldn't quite scratch.

"More like all the time," Alix snorted. Chloe returned her attention to her phone, and the moment was lost. "You watch those shows, Marinette?"

"Yeah..." Marinette stared at Chloe, trying to pin down whatever memory her gaze had tickled. "From time to time."

Alix rolled her eyes, standing up to place her mug in the sink before walking into the other room. "Weirdoes."

Marinette's eyes trailed downward, seeing Chloe's leg in a cast, crutches leaning against the chair beside her. Looking closer at her face, she could see dark circles around her eyes beneath a thick layer of foundation.

Chloe was staying there last night. Because she was hurt and had nowhere else to go. The thought sent a twinge of pain through her chest. No mother, no father, did she even have friends outside of Alix?

'I didn't even know her name was Chloe.' The voice of Sushil, the restaurant owner echoed in her mind.

She feared the answer was no.

What if she could be Chloe's friend?

"I like cooking shows, too," Marinette said, suddenly. Too suddenly. Oh no. She'd already screwed up. This was a stupid idea. There were plenty of times she tried to make friends with Chloe in school and every one of them was shot down. Why did she think this time would be different? Why-

Chloe wasn't looking at her phone. She was looking at Marinette again, her eyes still that unsettling cold, but the plastic smile forgotten. "You're the daughter of two bakers," she pointed out. "You don't find it... manufactured?"

Marinette shrugged. "Maybe a little," she admitted. "Everyone's reactions are so big. There's epic music and moving cameras even for something like mixing in a bowl. They always seem to have some tragic backstory for why they're a chef instead of it just being what they wanted. Most of the time, it isn't even about the food." She smiled. "It's goofy, and melodramatic, and yes, maybe a bit manufactured. But it's fun, sometimes, to really care about something you don't have any control over, that, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't matter in the slightest."

Chloe hummed, still watching her. "Fun to care about something I have no control over?" She didn't say the words out loud, but Marinette could see her mouth them, a curious expression overtaking her face.

"You take your painkillers today, Chloe?" Alix called from the next room.

In an instant, the expression was wiped from Chloe's face, a vaguely annoyed one replacing it. "Unfortunately," she called back, petulantly.

"What happened?" Marinette asked. "To your leg, I mean."

Chloe looked down at it for a moment before looking at her again. "I kicked something I shouldn't have, and lost a fight with a door," she summarized, blandly. "Couldn't say which one actually broke my leg for sure, but there it is." She tilted her head. "You're not in great shape, yourself."

Marinette unconsciously lifted a hand to gently press against her black eye, hissing at the still sensitive bruise. "Yeah, I lost a fight... you should see the other guy," she joked, but Chloe didn't laugh, only raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do you get into fights?" She asked.

"I don't make a habit of it," Marinette defended, which was half-true. Ladybug got into fights all the time, but this was probably the first time anyone had seen Marinette recovering from the same. "Besides, people were getting hurt. I had to do something."

Chloe chuckled. "Still being our everyday Ladybug, huh?"

She couldn't help but smile at the childhood nickname, despite how uncomfortably close it came to her secret identity. "Guess so."

Alix came back into the room, adjusting the belt and jacket of her police uniform before looking up at the two. There was a piece of toast in her mouth that dropped into her hands when she was done arranging everything, and she used it like a tack to point at the girls. "I gotta go to work. Chloe, if I find out you've left this apartment, today, I'm fitting you with a house arrest bracelet. Marinette, keep icing that eye and grab whatever you want for breakfast. I know you've got your own work, so I'm not gonna threaten you with the same thing, but in case it wasn't obvious, you can stay as long as you want. Just ask Chloe if you can't find anything."

"And I'll say you live in a rathole, and I can't find anything here, either," Chloe sniped as Alix laughed her way out the door.

The sound of it slamming shut, her laughter echoing in the distance, reminded Marinette quite suddenly that she had next to nothing to actually talk to Chloe about, now that they were left alone in the apartment.

Chloe had no such issue. "So I heard you've been looking for me."

Marinette started at the sudden statement, not the least for its contents. "What? Who told you that?"

"The office," she admitted, easily. "They're really not supposed to call me outside of an emergency, but they've bothered me for less than someone coming in and requesting me specifically. I didn't realize you found our session that helpful." She considered for a moment. "Or were you looking for me for another reason?"

"I did find our session helpful," she insisted. "I tried talking to someone else at Honeycomb once or twice and it didn't get anywhere close. But... I'd by lying if I said I didn't have any questions."

Chloe hummed, considering for a minute. "Okay," she finally decided. "Then how about a trade? You'll ask me a question, I'll ask you one, back and forth until one of us gets bored." Her tone made it clear which one she though that would be. Marinette was about to agree, when Chloe held a finger a few inches away from her face. "And no lies."

"I'm not a liar," she protested, hotly.

Chloe's response was a decidedly unimpressed glare.

"Fine." Marinette held her hands up in surrender. "No lies." When Chloe eventually stopped glaring, she lowered her arms again. "Do you want to ask the first question, or should I?"

Chloe shrugged, leaning back in her chair and gesturing forward. "By all means."

Marinette bit her lip, trying to decide what question to ask. After waffling for too long, she finally decided on a more neutral question to start. "I know you didn't take leave from Honeycomb for family troubles. Why did you, really?"

"Adrien came to the office." She yawned. "I've been trying to help him get his affairs in order before he moves away."

Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "You two still talk?"

"It's my question now, Dupain-Cheng," she chided, a touch of humor leaking into her voice before she grew serious once again. "Why did you come here last night?"

"What do you mean?" Marinette shifted, uncomfortably under her piercing gaze.

"I hear stories, from former classmates, coworkers, others, some of which hadn't spoken to you in years, and for whatever reason, they find you endlessly charming. It seems to me like there isn't a block in Paris where you couldn't find someone more than willing to take you in, no matter the inconvenience to them." She tilted her head, that measuring stare seeming to bore holes into Marinette's skin. "So why come here, in all of Paris, when your own parents are only a few doors down the way?"

Marinette opened her mouth to answer, but only an empty silence came out. Why? It was such a simple question, but even wracking her brain, no answer came. "I... really don't know," she admitted with a sigh. "When I left, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I just had to go somewhere. I ended up here." Her shoulders moved in a half shrug. "I guess some part of me felt like here was the best place to go."

Chloe turned away, a frustrated breath escaping her lips.

"What?" Marinette pressed.

"I didn't expect to understand your answer," she admitted. "But I thought it would make some sense, at least."

"Sorry," Marinette whispered.

Chloe's jaw tightened at the word. "I hate that."

She blinked. "Sorry?"

"Yes." Chloe's face was fixed into a glare, staring off into nothing.

"Why?"

Chloe turned to look at her, measuring her carefully. "It's my question, now." She paused for a moment, wincing nearly imperceptibly as she adjusted her leg before her razor gaze sharpened on Marinette once again. "All those lists, every Ladyblog and news report, and I couldn't find it. I didn't think I'd forget it, but I had to be sure. You've never been Akumatized, have you?"

Why did it sound so much like an accusation when she said it like that?

"Well, no," she admitted, not quite sure what else to say. "There were some close calls," closer than she liked to think about, really, "but it's never actually happened."

For a moment, only a moment, Chloe's gaze softened from piercing to something resembling that curious expression from before. "Your question." The moment passed.

Marinette's lips curled into a frown. Obviously, Chloe wasn't pulling any punches with her questions. Fine, then. "You know something about Hawkmoth, don't you?"

Neither would she.

Chapter Text

There was a clock somewhere in the room. Maybe it was buried under discarded clothing or hidden behind the slipshod arrangement of furniture, but it was there. The relentless ticking noise never failed to fill the silent gaps of their discussion: this little question game.

"You're not very smart," Chloe said bluntly, letting the ticking consume the silence that followed.

Marinette pressed. "That's not an answer."

"Do I know something about Hawkmoth?" She scoffed. "What do you want me to say? Of course I do, everyone knows something about Hawkmoth. I could just answer 'yes,' and it'd be right back to my next question."

"Then why haven't you?" Marinette had realized her mistake right after saying it, but even outright acknowledging what she needed to do, Chloe still hadn't answered.

"Because you'll just ask the same thing next time; maybe it'll be phrased better, maybe it won't, but it'll be the same." She shook her head. "Boring." Her hands clenched into fists. "Besides, I don't need that to beat you."

Marinette couldn't stop herself recoiling backward from the sheer fury in Chloe's voice, so focused directly at her.

"He's somewhere in his fifties, rich, used to ordering people around, doesn't like attention, married or heavily involved with a woman who knows his secret, he has more than cursory knowledge of Miraculouses, but not enough to know what each one does, specifically. He's impatient, but dedicated, and he works in a field that doesn't notice him disappearing during the normal work day. He's sadistic, enjoys playing to people's emotions, manipulative, stubborn, with an average build, and obsessive tendencies. So yes, Dupain-Cheng, I know 'something' about Hawkmoth. I know more about him than anyone on this planet who doesn't know his real name. Now," she leaned back with a smug expression, "it's my question."

Marinette's head was spinning, trying to process what she said, to latch onto anything. The sheer amount Chloe knew about someone Ladybug had been trying to find for years and coming up with nothing was... absurd. No.

It was ridiculous.

"You like Adrien Agreste, but even after all this time, even when he's four days away from leaving, you haven't told him. Why?" It was just as piercing as the other questions, but it was the shift in subject that set her teeth on edge.

"I don't want to talk about that," she left the 'with you,' unsaid.

Chloe shrugged. "Okay," she said easily. "Then you lose."

It was so childish, so petty, so classic Chloe. Marinette wasn't a kid anymore. She had self control, discipline. Every word her coworkers had said about her as she worked on and on, diligently rising up in Monsieur Agreste's fashion company, had slipped right off her like water off vinyl. So why, when Chloe prodded her with such a simple challenge, was it so hard to say no?

"Adrien..." she gritted her teeth, "likes someone else."

"I know." Marinette blinked at the simple words, looking up to see Chloe's impassive expression. "So what?"

She was expecting teasing, like the younger Chloe, or maybe even some counseling advice like the Chloe of now, but 'so what,' was something she hadn't planned for. "So what? I already told you, he doesn't like me that way. If I confess, it'll just make things awkward, and might ruin what we have."

"He's leaving in four days," she reiterated. "How much awkwardness could there possibly be in four days? Besides, hasn't it ever occurred to you that after all these years, he still doesn't have the girl he's been chasing? It's because she's not interested." Chloe rolled her eyes. "At this point, if you confess, he can decide to stop pining over people who have already rejected him and start dating you, or he'll keep on chasing for a handful of days, and before you know it he'll be efficiently out of your life. So explain again why you still haven't said anything?"

"I..." she didn't have an answer. "Why do you care?" Marinette snapped, the anger and frustration at Chloe, at Adrien's leaving, even at herself, finding refuge in her voice.

Chloe hesitated. It was small, barely even noticeable if she hadn't been looking for it, but it was there. "It's not your question."

"Maybe it is my question." Marinette stood up. "You ask why I came here, fine. You ask if I've never been Akumatized, I can see why you might be curious. But in what universe does Chloe Bourgeois care about my love life?"

"I don't," she said, adamantly.

Marinette threw her hands up. "Then why ask it at all?"

Chloe opened her mouth, but no sound came out. After a moment, she closed it again, her countenance darkening. "Fine, then. You don't like that question, I'll ask a different one: why are you always pretending to be so weak?"

"I don't 'pretend' to be anything," Marinette bristled. "And I don't appreciate the implication I'm a liar."

Chloe chuckled, humorlessly. "Oh, okay. I guess we're playing that game, then. Sure, let's do a little recap. You hobble along like a bird with a broken wing in front of Gabriel Agreste, so he has to send you to Honeycomb. You wait in front of the door until Juleka has to drag you inside, instead of just walking in, yourself. You moon over Adrien for years and say nothing, even when he tells you before anyone else that he's leaving. You come here, in the middle of the night, and the broken bird act gets trotted out again, forcing Alix to sleep on the floor in her own home. You say you have questions about me, but you ask about Hawkmoth, like we're somehow in league with each other." She sneered. "Hawkmoth preys on the weak, feeds on them. He's a monster who doesn't deserve even the slightest bit of mercy, but he's also how I know you're not weak: because you've never been Akumatized. So stop pretending."

"That's why you've hated me all this time?" Marinette asked, disbelievingly. "You think I'm playing up everything I do for sympathy like I'm some kind of..." the fury died in her throat as realization struck her. "Lila," she finished. "That's what I am, to you, isn't it? I'm your Lila Rossi."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What are you...?"

"No, it makes so much sense." Marinette slumped back onto her seat on the couch, shaking her head as so many memories seemed to click into place. "I took your seat, took your friends." She shook her head. There was always a filter in her mind, when she thought of everything she'd done to Chloe. 'I was in the right,' it whispered to her.

Chloe was a bully, a tormentor of everyone in the class. Of course Marinette was in the right. Maybe when they were kids, that would have been enough, but now...

If she stripped away all the feelings, the righteous justice she'd surrounded herself with, and just looked at the actions, at Chloe, she saw something else. "I turned everyone against you."

Just like Lila Rossi.

Chloe quirked her head, face expressionless. "You didn't know?"

Marinette ran a hand through her hair, more memories, more circumstances rushing by her. "I didn't... I never..." she took a deep breath, trying to regain some stability to her speech. "I never saw it that way before."

"It's not like it matters." She shrugged. "They would have turned against me either way."

"Maybe," Marinette hedged, "but without my constantly butting heads with you, it probably would have been better, at least. Chloe, I'm so sor-" Chloe's glare stopped the words. After a moment, Marinette swallowed and started again. "I don't like feeling... weak." Her hands clenched into fists. "I don't want pity, or sympathy, I didn't even want Monsieur Agreste to worry about me, it felt awful having him give me that card. I wish I could look, and act, and be as strong as you think I am, but I can't." A shaky sigh escaped her. "I don't know how, at least."

Chloe stood up, maneuvering one crutch as a sort of cane to lean on. "You're not a very good liar." The words stung, but Marinette couldn't say she was very surprised by them. When she thought of Chloe, 'forgiving' was rarely the first word that came up. Before she could make any response, however, a hand appeared in her vision, outstretched. "So I'll believe you, this time."

Dumbstruck, Marinette took her hand, shaking it gently.

"I don't like you," Chloe warned. "But Alix clearly does, so if you're going to be around more often, then constantly fighting you would be a ridiculous inconvenience."

It was cold, even callous, but honestly Marinette would take any step forward at that point. "I understand." She didn't, actually, but what else was there to say?

By the silence that shrouded the room after the declaration, apparently the answer was 'not much.' Chloe returned to her seat, and Marinette sipped her tea, long gone cold.

After a while squirming in the too-quiet room, Marinette finally spoke again. "Your favorite color?" She whispered.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I-" Marinette cleared her throat, uncomfortably, speaking a little louder this time. "I think it's my question, so I asked what your favorite color is?"

Chloe considered her carefully for a few moments. "Red," she answered eventually.

It wasn't a very hard question, just something to try and break the ice again, really. So why did it surprise her so much? "Not yellow?"

Chloe leaned back on the couch, her bright yellow sleeveless shirt somehow catching even more light. "I don't look good in red," she answered evenly. "You're the fashion designer, you should know."

"Oh... I like red, too," Marinette answered, lamely.

It occurred to her in the uncomfortable quiet following that statement, that if she ran out of the apartment, Chloe probably couldn't chase her. Admittedly, that wasn't the most mature reaction to the situation, but it was true.

"Do you like... milk?" Chloe asked a few minutes later, startling Marinette.

"Milk?" She echoed.

"Alix likes milk," Chloe explained, sounding like she couldn't believe what she, herself, was saying. "So, do you like milk?"

"Oh," Marinette hesitated for a moment. "Uh, yeah, I like... milk."

Chloe nodded. "Good. Cool."

The next span of time where no one said anything was made slightly more bearable to Marinette by the fact it wasn't entirely her fault that time.

"I'm going to turn on the TV now, and pretend you don't exist for a while," Chloe elucidated carefully, picking up the remote as she did so.

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, let's do that."

The next few hours were filled with cooking show after cooking show, only interrupted by the occasional slew of advertisements between each slice of programming. Neither of them said anything during it, which was probably for the best, Marinette thought. Their 'question game,' seemed to have been brought to an abrupt end.

It was... horrible, both the questions she asked and the answers she had to give. To top it all off, it felt like she had more questions about Chloe now than ever. But, at the same time, she couldn't actually find it within herself to regret it.

Because, in amongst all the awkwardness and uncomfortable probing there was a sliver of knowledge she'd managed to glean. It felt like the door to understanding Chloe had been opened just the tiniest crack.

She looked over at the girl, already fallen asleep long ago, succumbing to the numbing force of whatever pain medication she was using for her leg.

There were more questions she'd need to ask, about Hawkmoth, about Adrien, but more than that to force the door open a little further. Chloe wasn't some irrational being of hatred when they were in school together, she was just a lonely kid.

A kid whose favorite color was red.

Marinette couldn't help the smile sneaking its way on her face at the thought.

"I don't understand you, Chloe Bourgeois," she whispered to her sleeping form. "But I want to."

A quiet snore was Chloe's only answer. That was okay. In baking, in designing, even in superheroing, patience was key. Marinette could wait as long as she needed. She would figure Chloe out, she'd already decided.

Now, it was only a matter of when.

(:*:)

Alya was no stranger to facing danger. Honestly, she was probably present at more Akuma attacks than anyone but Ladybug and Chat Noir by that point. But that didn't mean she was free from fear.

Fear of Akumas was only natural, Alya could have been killed by them many times over if not for Ladybug's intervention.

Fear of flying strayed slightly further into the irrational, but having suffered through multiple unfortunate flight experiences while moving as a child, this too was understandable.

Fear of Nino Lahiffe, in all his hundred and twenty pound glory, was firmly irrational.

Yet here she was, heels digging into the ground while Marinette pushed her along, yearning a sudden Akuma appearance so she didn't have to see him.

"I'm really sorry, Alya," Marinette grunted as she pushed her along. "But remember, we're doing this for Adrien."

"Adrien'll be fine." She dug her heels in further. "I'll just send him a text before he goes. He doesn't have to see all of us."

"You don't mean that." Marinette kept pushing.

"No, I don't," Alya admitted. "This just really sucks."

Marinette smiled, reassuringly. "I know, but you want to do this for Adrien, and I'll be right there with you the whole time, I promise."

There was a part of Alya that hated how much that made her feel better, but rankling over Marinette trying to help her was like yelling at the sun for rising in the morning.

With a resigned sigh, she stopped resisting and allowed herself to be pulled along completely by the far too bubbly designer.

Alya stared down at her beaming face with a bemused expression. "What's gotten into you? Really that excited to see Adrien again?"

Her smile flickered. "I am excited to see him," she said, carefully. "But I'm also really nervous. Yesterday, I was talking to Chloe and... I'm gonna tell him."

"Tell him what?" At Marinette's expression, Alya's eyes widened. "Oh. Tell him that. Are you sure?"

Marinette's smile, far from the bright light it was only moments before, now seemed exceptionally brittle. "He's going to be gone in three days, Alya. No matter what happens, if he likes me back, if he doesn't, I don't want to keep holding on to this."

Alya slapped her on the back. "Go get 'im, girl. He'd have to be crazy to turn you down."

She laughed, weakly. "Hope you're right."

The bar Adrien had chosen wasn't out of the way so much as it was deliberately hidden. Tucked between an antique bookstore and something that must have previously been a cafe before it was shut down, it was no surprise it took them a few minutes searching up and down the block for an entrance. Also, while there was no real proof of this, Alya suspected the cafe was shut down for health code violations.

Still, Adrien had said he'd spent more time than appropriate hiding out from his bodyguards and assistants in the place, so she couldn't blame him having a fondness for it.

They walked into the bar's darkened interior, bearing the stinkeye from a seriously inebriated man seemingly stuck to the bartop with the remnants of countless spilled drinks, and worked their way toward the back, where a grinning Adrien waved them over to a booth.

Nino was already there, of course, because there was no such thing as good luck in Alya's life, as was Kagami, looking every bit the disciplined and dignified girl Alya had met before, but moving with a confidence and grace that was decidedly new.

"I'm so glad you could make it." Adrien hugged them both, while Nino and Kagami slid over in their seats so the new arrivals could sit. Marinette, godlike friend that she was, sat next to Nino so that Alya could be as far away from him as possible.

The relief she felt at that turned her stomach.

Nino wasn't a bad guy, quite the opposite, really. He was sweet, and reliable, and honest, too honest. He told her it wasn't working, broke it off with her, and told her he hoped they could remain friends.

So Alya swallowed her tongue and told him she'd like that.

Coward.

There was no reason she should have been afraid of him. He was nice and she knew from experience he couldn't hurt a fly. But when she saw him after that, it felt like he'd reached into her chest and started scratching at her heart.

She forced her eyes to look away. Things didn't work out: that happened, sometimes.

As Adrien slid in next to Marinette, and Alya saw the plain adoration on her face, though, she hoped harder than anything else, Marinette would never have to feel the way she did.

It was a few drinks, a plate of nachos, and a wide assortment of stories the assembled had collected over the years featuring Adrien, before Kagami leaned over to whisper in Alya's ear.

"She seems quite taken with him, even now," she noted, watching as Marinette and Adrien teased each other, wrapped in some friendly argument from days past. "I hope Adrien knows how lucky he is, to have someone look at him that way."

"Adrien's a great guy," Alya whispered back, surprised that Kagami said anything to her considering they were practically strangers. "But when it comes to this, I don't think he knows anything." Her eyebrows furrowed. "You're not upset, though? I thought you hated Marinette."

"Hate?" Kagami raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into the tiniest indicator of amusement. "If I hated everyone I ever had a childhood rivalry with, I doubt I'd make it through the day without an aneurysm. The list is not short." She shrugged. "I consider Adrien a good friend, only. Any aspirations for otherwise, I put to girlish fancy."

Alya finished off her drink. "Guess I can't argue with that. With how competitive journalism can be, I've got more rivals now than I think I'll ever need, and I don't actually hate them." She considered for a moment. "Okay, Trixie Raccourci, I hate, but she's the only one."

Kagami chuckled, softly, the ice in her glass clinking together as she picked it up. "He's hardly my type, anyway. Why would I begrudge her making an attempt at happiness?"

Alya considered making some kind of snark on how a literal supermodel wasn't her type, but honestly, she couldn't help but agree. Relentlessly upbeat naivete could be cute every once in a while, but for actual dating she preferred someone a bit more worldly.

Her eyes moved to Nino for a moment before she forced them away again.

Kagami caught the movement. "Ah, I'm sorry. I've reminded you of your troubles." She slid back over, closer to the wall. "It was not my intention."

"What are you two chatting about?" Adrien asked, some teasing cadence remaining in his voice from his conversation with Marinette.

"Trixie Raccourci," Kagami answered, easily. "And, for the record, I find her writing unbelievably dull."

"I didn't know you followed Ladybug reporting," Adrien commented.

"I was curious what her thoughts on Ladybug and Chat Noir's secret identities were." Her lips curled into a small distasteful frown. "I found her conclusions... underwhelming."

"Ugh, yeah. She was way off," Marinette agreed, making a face. After a moment, she suddenly looked away, rubbing the back of her neck, nervously. "You know, probably."

"Well what kind of person do you think Ladybug is?" Nino hadn't talked all that much during the conversation before, but that wasn't wholly unusual for him. Despite how extroverted the DJ was, he'd never exactly been 'chatty'.

Kagami considered for a moment before answering. "I would imagine a popstar, some famous dancer or singing sensation."

"A popstar?" Marinette asked, disbelievingly. "Why?"

"Athletic, graceful, confident," Kagami ticked off each of her fingers in turn. "She's clearly shown she knows her way around recording and broadcast equipment multiple times, beyond being a natural in interviews. If she is not a popstar, perhaps she should consider the occupation."

Alya had to hand it to her, that was some solid logic, and an avenue she'd never considered before, besides.

"I don't know," Nino differed. "Being a popstar's, like, super demanding, and she'd constantly be followed by her manager and crew. If an Akuma attacked during a show, how'd she be able to get out of it? How'd she be able to lose her entourage all the time, too? That'd be like Adrien needing to escape his bodyguard and assistant, plus whatever photoshoot he was in, every time he needed to be Chat Noir. No offense, dude," Nino assured Adrien. "You'd make a totally cool Chat Noir, your schedule's just too dreck to pull it off."

"None taken." Adrien laughed. "My schedule is legitimately awful."

"I have seen Adrien escape his assistants with nothing but a park bench and a hat." Kagami leaned back with satisfaction. "I've no doubt Ladybug could develop the same skill."

Alya nodded. Another point for Kagami.

"Okay, but hear me out, here," Nino proposed. "Ladybug: stuntwoman."

An amused eyebrow raise was Kagami's only response.

"That counts for athletic, graceful, and confident," Nino continued, counting on his fingers like she had before. "Of course she'd know how all the TV stuff worked, and she could be more of a free agent, so she wouldn't need to constantly ditch people to transform. It also explains how she can do stuff like jump off rooftops and throw herself into danger so easily. She gets tons of practice."

"She would have received that practice either way." Alya hadn't seen as much of Adrien's fencing practice as Marinette had, but if Kagami's foil counterattack was half as good as her verbal one, she had no doubt it was a sight to behold. "Ladybug started as a child, long before any kind of career of the like could begin, and while there are adolescent stunt doubles in rare cases, particularly if that is the family business, I'm afraid Adrien can confirm that there aren't any living in Paris that even get close to matching Ladybug's profile. If your idea is that she became a superhero because she was a stunt double, I'm sorry to tell you, your order of events just isn't right."

"You know, funnily enough, you don't seem all that sorry to tell me that," Nino snarked.

"No," she admitted, idly looking down at her nails. "I actually took great pleasure in it."

As cathartic as it was for Alya to watch Nino get a verbal smackdown, Marinette was beginning to look a bit distressed by the exchange, so she threw her a bone. "What about you, Marinette? What do you think Ladybug does for a living?"

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, as Marinette choked on air for a few moments before forcing out an answer. "I don't know... what if she were a journalist?"

This pricked Alya's eyebrows up. "How do you figure?"

"I mean, she's always there, right? It wouldn't be hard to explain away any disappearances, if she was always heading toward the Akuma anyway. She could write about them just fine, if she experienced them, herself. It would explain how she could work the recording equipment..." Marinette chuckled, shrugging. "I mean, it makes sense, right?"

"I prefer my popstar theory," Kagami answered, but didn't argue against the idea Marinette posed, apparently growing bored of the whole thing.

The conversation drifted on to other topics, but Alya did feel better, if only slightly, to be sitting near Nino. It was easy to forget, in all the things she thought of him, that he was her friend, once.

She looked over at Adrien, laughing at some joke Marinette had told, both of them the picture of contentment. She couldn't imagine them losing that.

Maybe Marinette would be alright after all.

(:*:)

"I'm sorry, Marinette."

The blood pounded in her ears, almost drowning out the words from the sheer mortification she felt.

After dinner, after the bar, after Alya and Nino and Kagami had long gone home, Marinette and Adrien had stayed together.

Then she had told him.

"You're... sorry?" Her brain hadn't connected to the words. She knew the meaning, of course. She knew it was over. But somehow the individual words wouldn't process.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he reiterated, awkwardly. "You're my best friend, I wish I could make you happy, but... I love someone else."

So what?

She wished she could say the words, that ironclad response Chloe had passed back so effortlessly, but her lips wouldn't work, her tongue wouldn't move.

She had told him she loved him.

Adrien said no.

He was her friend. He loved someone else. He rejected her advances politely. She couldn't blame him for anything.

Marinette dripped with self-loathing.

She couldn't control who he loved. She wouldn't want him to sacrifice his own happiness just for her.

Marinette seethed with self-contempt.

"I'm so sorry, Marinette. I wish things were different, but I can't lie about how I feel," Adrien said, reasonably. So reasonable, always.

Sorry? The word finally clicked in her head. Did he say he was sorry?

Adrien hadn't done anything wrong, though. He didn't have to love her, neither of them had any control over it. It was just a bad situation. It happened all the time. If he could have somehow orchestrated it, that would have taken dedication and luck bordering on the impossible. Honestly, if he had pulled it off she'd be more likely to be impressed than mad about it. He had nothing to be sorry for at all.

"Marinette? Are you okay?" He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, but still she didn't move. "I'm really sorry. I don't want to stop being friends over this."

He said sorry again, she noted. Why did he keep saying sorry?

"Marinette? I'm sorry."

Stop.

"Can you hear me? I said I'm sorry."

Stop it.

"I'm sor-"

"Stop saying that word. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it." She screamed at him, the sound echoing in the empty night.

Adrien gaped, struck dumb by the statement.

Marinette couldn't believe it, herself.

She took a step back, then two. Adrien reached out a hand, but by then she had already turned and ran.

When her lungs began to burn from exertion, when her tears began to blind her, when wild eyes cast to the skies saw no black butterflies, only then did she stop, slipping into an alley out of sight of the tourists and partiers still awake at that late hour.

She wondered, as she smudged the eye makeup she'd used to cover her bruise with every new track of tears, if this is what her friends thought Ladybug was; some pathetic little girl, crying in a corner after a rejection.

Somehow, she doubted it.

Chapter Text

The voice was clear and crisp, like the air, with that same coldness that lingered in her bones. On another day, a different time, Marinette might have said it was cruel, but beneath the burning self-loathing she felt, the heat in her tears, the coal in her throat, the sound was like a knife through the swirl her thoughts had become. "Do you want to hear a funny story?"

There was no Akuma waiting for Marinette in that alley, Adrien's rejection still stinging her eyes. There should have been. She'd seen people Akumatized for far less, and yet there wasn't. Was this what Chloe called strength?

"What are you doing here?" Marinette choked out. She couldn't look up, refused to. Chloe had seen her cry before, made her cry, even, but this felt different. She could accept any expression Chloe could have given right then, except pity. If she looked up and saw pity on Chloe's face, Marinette was sure an Akuma would come.

Chloe shrugged, the action visible in the corner of Marinette's eye. "Do you want to hear the story, or not?"

"Sure." She curled her knees up to her face, burying her eyes there, even as the pain from her bruised one protested the action.

"Alix used to drink coffee all the time," Chloe began, leaning heavily against the wall. "She was addicted, really, going through pots and pots of the stuff before she graduated from police academy. When she could make it at home, she'd make it at home, and when she couldn't, there was a place right by the academy she went to instead. Now, during the times she usually went there, a girl was working named Jean, or Jeannean, or Je'ann, or something like that, and she absolutely sucked at making coffee."

Marinette shifted so the cool alley wall pressed against her back, still not entirely sure where this story was going.

Chloe went on. "She couldn't work the machine right, got measurements wrong, screwed up orders. When it came to coffee, she was a total trainwreck, and Alix knew it, too. Every coffee she got from there was awful, because Jeannean kept making it, but she kept coming back because it was the closest one and she didn't want to figure out where a different coffeeshop was. A few times, as the training got harder, and Alix spent more and more time awake and stressed, which honestly the coffee wasn't helping with, she wanted to say something to the barista girl. Really, she wanted to scream at her, but do something at least, because as time went on, instead of getting used to it, the coffee seemed to get worse and worse." Chloe's gaze darkened. "But Alix didn't say squat."

She walked forward and sat down amongst the dirt and garbage beside Marinette, continuing the story. "You see, she remembered me and the way I'd yell at any poor cashier, chef, butler, or barista who'd get my order even the slightest bit wrong, and she remembered them getting fired, then Akumatized more times than not. So she kept her mouth shut, and drank coffee that was more sludge than drink over and over again, because that was somehow easier than doing anything about it."

A sigh broke through Chloe's being at that moment, air curling around her lips, visible in the cold. "Anyway, a few months later, someone accidentally got food poisoning there. Moldy beans, bad milk, improperly cleaned steam wand, don't ask me what happened, but whatever it was, it was Jean's fault. I don't think she got arrested, but she sure got fired, and the guy she poisoned got Akumatized after puking his guts out for a while." She grimaced. "That couldn't have been a fun Akuma to fight."

Marinette felt her own mouth twist into a similar expression. She remembered that fight, vividly, and it really wasn't.

"After that, Alix quit coffee. It was actually one of the first things I asked her about when I met her again after graduation." She shook her head, getting back on track. "I guess my point is, people are stubborn. It's usually so much easier to just keep on doing what you're doing, even if it makes you miserable, than to change anything, and by the time something happens that forces you to change, inevitably, someone gets hurt." She looked down at her hand, slowly unclenching it from the fist it had made sometime during the story. "Could be you, could be a friend, or a stranger, but someone always gets hurt."

It was funny, Marinette should have thought of her and Adrien, him so stuck on the girl he couldn't have, and her so stuck on him, but the only thought swimming in her head was, what about Chloe? Who did Chloe hurt so badly that it changed her this much? Or who hurt Chloe bad enough it did.

Even staring into her face, Chloe's cheeks flushed from the cold, sitting on the grimy alley floor, Marinette didn't have an answer.

"Come on," Chloe made it unsteadily to her feet with what seemed like a great effort. Was she tired? It had to have been awfully late by then. "If the Akuma hasn't come by now, it's not coming."

Chloe held out a hand and Marinette took it, making her way to her own feet with about as much difficulty. Both legs, it seemed, had fallen asleep sometime while she was on the ground, and she could hardly feel them beneath the pins and needles they were giving.

Chloe slung an arm over her shoulder to help her walk out, but it almost seemed like Marinette was supporting her, instead. "Why did you come here?" She whispered. "Why help me?"

Chloe was silent for a handful of moments, and the sounds of Paris flooded around them as they stepped out onto the main streets, lights and smells staving off the cold like a warm hug, like Chloe's arm over her shoulder, come to think of it. Then she turned with the smallest of smiles. "I promised, I would."

There was no followup, but Marinette couldn't bring herself to question further. Sometimes it didn't even feel like Chloe had reasons for the things she did. She simply was, less a person and more a force of nature. No, even those were explainable.

If Chloe were Akumatized right then, what would she do?

It was a strange thought, but one she'd been having some version of for a while by then. Sometimes when she'd be walking with someone, or watching a presentation, even, embarrassingly enough, from time to time when someone was talking to her and she was too bored to pay attention, she'd look at them and wonder what their Akuma's would be. That man, nearly slipping on the ice, his would be heat based, Akuma in his hat. The woman in the fancy dress out on the town, mind controlled army, Akuma in her corsage. Akuma in the cane, the shoes, the soda can. Ice based, statue based, Christmas light based. Akumas swirled around her everywhere she looked. Except, when she turned to Chloe again, she couldn't even guess.

Her clothes were simple, no elaborate fineries or jewelry. Her shirt didn't even have a design on it, just a solid yellow color. More than that, what ability would she even have? For all the Akuma's she'd already been, why was it so hard to picture her as one now?

Why didn't she want to?

There was nothing personal about it, she'd pictured everyone from Alya to her own mother as Akumas, that wasn't saying she thought they'd become one any second. For that matter, becoming an Akuma was Hawkmoth's fault, not the victim's, so even if she thought they might become one, that wasn't to say she thought less of them. It was just something she did. Except, apparently, when it came to Chloe.

"Would you have gone to Hong Kong, if he asked?" Chloe said suddenly as they moved down the street.

Marinette would have liked to say yes, to entertain the thought that Adrien might have accepted her feelings, invited her along, but the thought died coldly in her head. "Too much of my life is here." Her parents, her friends, designing, Ladybug. "I don't think I could have given that up, not yet, at least."

Chloe nodded. "It hurts, but sometimes change is exactly what you need. Adrien seemed to think it'd help him. Maybe it'll help you, too."

"You think I should go to Hong Kong?" Marinette asked, incredulously.

Chloe reached over and flicked her on the forehead. "You just said you wouldn't have gone, even if he asked you. I'm not telling you to leave, I'm saying you should let him go." She slides on a thin patch of ice for a moment, and something flashes across her face too quickly for Marinette to see. She doesn't fall, but if Marinette wasn't bearing half her weight, she had no doubt she would've. "He's planning on confessing to his lady love, today, and if I know her at all, she's gonna kick him to the curb."

"You know the girl Adrien likes?" Marinette asked, surprised. She knew they were friends, but... so were her and Adrien.

"We've met," Chloe hedged, "and she's hopelessly out of his league."

Marinette couldn't help a slightly stilted laugh. "Oh yeah, way out of the rich supermodel's league, I'm sure."

Chloe's expression didn't waver.

The laugh died in her throat. "You're serious?"

She nodded, slowly. "He's been trying for years. If he had told her he was leaving a month ago, it might have shaken something loose, but as it is now? He doesn't stand a chance." They walked further down the street, a light snow just beginning to dust the streets around them, clinging to Chloe's hair like tiny feathers. It was a nice distraction from everything else, from the way Chloe's breath seemed to come sharper, her steps slower as they moved, from the realization why.

"Chloe," Marinette said, suddenly, the words forming in her mind only a moment before she said them. "Where are your crutches?"

She didn't answer at first, but that seemed to say more than any words could. Leaning on the wall, on each other, that flash across her face when she slipped on the ice and her foot met uneven ground. It could only have been pain.

"I'm fine," she said, and the words were clear and crisp, like the air, but they were also a lie.

Marinette stopped walking, and Chloe's arm around her shoulder as it was, she had to stop, too. "Where's your apartment?"

There was steel in her voice as she asked, that made Chloe roll her eyes. "Would you relax, girlscout? It's right down the street, I was already taking you there to get cleaned up."

Marinette started moving again, more of a march than the leisurely stroll they were walking under earlier. "Of all the irresponsible, hare-brained, insensée, things to do, I can't believe-" Marinette's rant devolved to dark mutterings under her breath as they went to the building Chloe indicated.

Once or twice, Chloe would open her mouth as if to provide some sort of rebuttal, but the glare Marinette would send her way forced her to shut it again.

There was no elevator in the apartment, Chloe's room was on the fourth floor, and she expected to... what? Walk up all of them without even telling Marinette? She'd probably already walked down them. If Marinette were only slightly pettier, she'd have Chloe walk up them all herself, just to make a point, but she wasn't, so they'd need an alternate solution.

"Put your hands here and swing your legs over my arm. I'll carry you up." There was no way she'd let her injure her leg more than it already was.

"Right," Chloe said, skeptically. "You'll carry me up four flights of stairs with those secret fashion designer muscles. I'm sure lifting that needle and thread really gets the reps in."

There was a part of her that wanted to explain to Chloe how the design process worked, particularly when she was designing and creating outfits all on her own, another part of her wanted to allude to a different workout in reference to her activities as Ladybug, and a third part of her wanted to simply argue that Chloe was being irrational and that when presented with a solution that would keep her leg from further injury, the proper response would be something like 'thank you,' but unfortunately none of those parts of her seemed to be in charge at that moment.

Marinette bent down and sweeped Chloe's legs out from under her with an arm, catching her and beginning to carry her up the stairs without another word.

Barring a small yelp of surprise, Chloe's mouth was fixed open in silent shock the entire walk up the stairs. Chloe handed Marinette the key and she walked in far enough to deposit her on the couch, finally breathing a sigh as the door clicked shut behind them.

Placing her hands on her hips in a defiant pose, slightly out of breath, but feeling victorious anyway, Marinette asked, "what was that you were saying about my fashion designer muscles?"

Chloe looked at her, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

Then she laughed.

Marinette had heard Chloe laugh before, there had been no shortage of that to go along with the tormenting of her and her classmates, but that had always been haughty, laced with the same flavor of cruelty that fueled her actions. This laugh was a bit odd, sort of wheezy like it had been in disuse for too long. Objectively, it wasn't pleasant to hear, but she couldn't help a small flush of pride that she'd managed to get it out of Chloe. It was a victory; she couldn't care less what it sounded like.

"You're really crazy, you know that?" Chloe said when her laughs had descended into chuckles, then finally petered out completely. "Just when I think I've got you figured out, you pull something like this."

"You think I'm crazy?" Marinette countered, good-naturedly. "I'm not the one running up and down the street with a broken leg."

"Touche," she acknowledged, moving to the side enough Marinette could sit down on the couch beside her. She didn't say anything else for a minute or two, just some small echoes of the laughter she gave before. When even those were gone, she spoke again. "If you're waiting for an explanation, why I went out without the crutches, I don't really have one."

Marinette blinked. She had been wondering, maybe not waiting for an explanation, specifically, but the thought had crossed her mind. Still, "you don't know why you did it?"

There was a moment, one Marinette could only see by virtue of her hard fought victories, small as they were, in understanding Chloe, she saw her making a choice. It was a choice she must have made every day, in countless ways, but this was the first time she could see it reflected on Chloe's face.

A truth or a lie, that was the question, that decision flicking across her expression like a knife through a letter. For anyone else, she might have had some idea which they would choose, but for Chloe she couldn't even hazard a guess.

"I know why," Chloe hedged, carefully. "I just don't have an explanation for you." It was the truth, this time.

"That's okay," Marinette said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. An explanation would have been nice, but that wasn't what was important right then. "But could you please not do it again until you're all healed? I don't like seeing you in pain."

"I'm not sure your younger self would agree." Chloe said it like a joke, but it was clear from her expression there was bitterness to the words.

"No, Chloe." Marinette shook her head, voice unbending. "We may have had our differences, but I have never liked seeing you in pain." She reached over and gently laid her hands over Chloe's, tightened into fists in her lap as they were. "Never."

Chloe looked down at the hands, then up at Marinette's face. "He should have asked you."

By the expression on her face, it wasn't something she had meant to say out loud.

"What?" Marinette pressed.

That expression passed over her face again, so quick, but visible in the moment.

"Adrien should have asked you to go with him," she answered.

Lie.

Marinette smiled, wanly. "Thanks, Chloe." She stood, stretching her legs for a moment before turning to face Chloe again. "It's way too late, so I should probably get home before my body completely shuts down." Between the emotional and physical exhaustion, it already felt like she'd fall asleep the second she closed her eyes, so she really didn't want to push it by sitting on the soft couch in the gently warm apartment.

"Ridiculous," Chloe countered, standing, then wincing at the pain in her leg, but continuing on undeterred. "I did not rescue you from Akumatization so that you could get mugged on the way back to your apartment." She opened a cabinet beside the couch, withdrawing a cover, pillows, sheets, and blankets from it, then laying them on the couch and pointing at it. "You're staying here, doctor's orders."

"You're not that kind of doctor," Marinette protested, weakly.

She folded her arms, challengingly. "Aren't I?"

Marinette didn't have a response to that, and late as it was, she was too tired to think of one, so instead of arguing any further, she took the covers and began laying them over the couch.

Chloe nodded, satisfied, and turned to retreat to her own bed, but stopped at the doorway, her fingers strumming along the frame for a moment. "For the record?" Marinette looked up, but Chloe still wasn't facing her direction. "You're out of his league, too."

She felt more tired than she could remember, with makeup uncomfortably smeared over her face like grime. She'd been stressed at work to the point she'd lost contact with so many friends, and with every new Akuma she fought as Ladybug, it felt like there were closer and closer calls with every battle. Nearly losing her Miraculous made her heart freeze, every time, to the point she was worried one day someone would reach for her earrings and it would stop beating altogether. And yet,

A smile bloomed across her face at the words, small, but more genuine than she'd felt in a long time. "Goodnight, Chloe."

Chloe moved forward again, never looking back, but waving a careful hand in departure. "Goodnight, Dupain-Cheng."

She clicked the lights off and collapsed into bed, feeling the sweet shade of drowsiness envelop her just as much as the blankets around her.

There was so much she'd have to do tomorrow, but despite how close they already were to the new dawn 'tomorrow' seemed awfully far away.

She was warm, she was safe, and when she dreamed, she dreamed of nothing at all.

(:*:)

Chloe laid in bed, staring at the ceiling like it would stare right back if she willed it hard enough. She wished she could sit up, make a few more eliminations on the security tapes, but her entire body felt leaden, trapped in the grip of some cruel paralysis. She felt sleepy, even though she knew there was no reason to. So she laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

Marinette was in the next room.

It was a strange thought that wriggled and bit at the edges of her mind, waiting to be examined while Chloe wanted nothing more than to cast it out. Having someone sleep in the same building as her wasn't unheard of for her, she'd grown up in a hotel, after all. Having someone sleep in the same room was likewise, if not common, at least not exceedingly rare. She'd slept in the same room as Alix just the night before, after all.

Which meant the thought that wanted to be examined, the reason it pestered her so, wasn't because a person was sleeping in the next room, but because Marinette was. Marinette, who so conveniently and inconveniently represented everything about the world Chloe couldn't... well, just couldn't.

It was like every aspect of Chloe had been flipped and placed in the surprisingly athletic body of the little half-Chinese designer, the only thing salvaged from their appearance being twin pairs of crystal-blue eyes. Though, while Marinette's eyes were bright and full of life, Chloe's were about as flat, jaded, and dead as eyes could appear on anyone still drawing breath. A doll's eyes, she thought, cynically.

Her mother would have enjoyed that.

Chloe let that thought slide away, ignored, as it should be. Her mother was long in the grave, tucked outside of Paris where even the most twisted of Akumatizations wouldn't stir her. Not that it would, of course, Hawkmoth seemed a bit squeamish around corpses. He'd never design a power that could raise them directly.

"You really never stop thinking about Hawkmoth, do you?" The voice came from the side, so clipped with accusation it would have made Chloe stiffen if her limbs weren't still frozen in place.

Chloe couldn't turn her head to see, but she already knew who it was. "When he's dead," she said, hollowly, "I'll never have to think of him again."

"I don't think your Honeycomb constituents feel the same way," the owner of the voice replied, her tone biting. "Some people will have to deal with the results of Hawkmoth's actions for the rest of their lives."

"However short that might be," Chloe shot back, her tone sharper than jagged glass.

Footsteps rang through the room as she came closer to the bed, yet still Chloe couldn't turn to see. A hand lazily trailed its way up her body, toward her face. "You know, it can't be healthy, holding on to that much anger." The hand stopped right before her chin, and the second one joined it in wrapping around her throat in an almost tender manner. "You might pop a blood vessel."

Chloe couldn't breathe. Every time she thought she might be able to sneak a breath past some gap in her airway, the hands would only squeeze tighter. "Please," she whispered, roughly, willing her arms to move, to push her off, fight back, but still her limbs were powerless to do anything. "Stop."

"Why should I stop?" She asked. "Isn't this what you want?"

"Want. To. Live." Chloe forced the words out, one by one, as it seemed to take all her breath to do so.

"You're a liar." The grip became tighter, making black spots dance across her vision. "You pick fights with criminals, with Hawkmoth, with Ladybug, and you expect people to believe you're not looking for death? You might be able to fool everyone else, Chloe," the face of Sabrina Raincomprix came into view, lips twisted into a sadistic grin, "but you can't fool me."

Chloe shot out of bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She was awake, but the nightmare still clung to her mind, forcing her breath into shuddering gasps like the illusory hands were still on her throat.

Her leg throbbed, but Chloe ignored it, limping to the bathroom so she could splash her face with water. As the unreality of the dream began to fade, and her breathing slowed to something approaching normal, she became aware of sounds coming from the next room over. When she opened the door to investigate, she was struck by the smell of food, almost unheard of in her apartment.

It wasn't until she saw Marinette by the stove, the source of the food, that she even remembered the designer was still there. "Morning, Chloe," she said, brightly. "I hope you don't mind my borrowing your cookware for a bit, or raiding your fridge, but I thought you might like some breakfast."

"I don't think my cookware's been used since its purchase," Chloe commented, taking a seat at the table. "Use whatever you like, but you don't have to make me anything; I don't need repayment."

"Well, it's a good thing this isn't repayment, then," Marinette said, breezily. "Do you like omelettes?"

Chloe made a noise of assent, watching Marinette as she checked cabinets and drawers for whatever implement or spice she was looking for. Chloe had stocked the kitchen reasonably well when she had first moved in, but after a month of failed attempts at cooking, she'd shut everything away. By that point, the only person who did cooking there was Alix, on occassion, and really the only reason Chloe kept the fridge stocked with unprepared food at all.

Still, even in the unfamiliar area with no doubt a heavy dearth of supplies, Marinette continued on, undetterred. "You sleep alright? Hope I didn't wake you up."

"No," Chloe gave a wry smile Marinette couldn't see with her back turned as it was. "You didn't wake me up." Alix had, from time to time, attempted any number of things to rouse her from that particular dream, but nothing worked. Marinette couldn't have woken her if she wanted to.

A prodding in her memory forced her to reciprocate the question. "How about you? Couch treat you alright?"

"Oh, it was great. Comfier than my bed, if I'm being honest," she admitted. "Thanks for letting me crash."

"I would have accepted nothing less," Chloe huffed, gracefully.

Marinette laid a plate with an omelette on the table in front of Chloe, followed by a cup of coffee. "I didn't know how you take it, so if you want sugar or cream or anything, just let me know."

"Orange juice, second row, first shelf, in the fridge, if you wouldn't mind." Marinette fetched it from the fridge and Chloe poured the drink into her coffee until it nearly overflowed before setting it down again.

"That'll wake you up," Marinette commented.

Chloe took a long sip. "It always does."

The omelette, for all the simplicity in its ingredients, was perfect. Every side was cooked to perfection, the cheese had melted all the way through, it was hot and salty, and there wasn't a place in Paris Chloe could have gotten a better one at that moment.

Marinette waited for Chloe to get halfway through, eating her own omelette in silence before speaking again. "So, when I woke up, I was looking for the bathroom and I found it, but before that I also walked into a different room by mistake?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow. What was she rambling about.

"Why do you have a secret, creepy, Hawkmoth murder room?" She finally asked, wincing at her own phrasing.

Chloe chewed on the omelette some more, watching Marinette sweat. "Secret." Marinette winced again. "Creepy." Again. "Hawkmoth." Her teeth gritted together at that. "Murder." Big wince. "Room."

When she'd let Marinette stew for longer than could reasonably be considered 'nice,' Chloe actually answered the question. "I'm trying to figure out who Hawkmoth is."

By the way Marinette's jaw dropped open, this was not the answer she was expecting. "What? For..." she forced her mouth closed again, lowering the volume her voice had become. "For how long? Do you have any leads?"

"A few," Chloe acknowledged. "Mostly, I've been doing eliminations, figuring out who Hawkmoth isn't, first and foremost."

"Can I see?" She asked, and Chloe had to blink in surprise.

Standing up, then slightly annoyedly using her crutches when Marinette pushed them into her hand, Chloe navigated to her 'secret, creepy, Hawkmoth, murder, room,' and opened up the digital version of her notes, listing every applicable person, and the reason they were eliminated, with references to individual tapes and timestamps included.

"This is incredible," Marinette whispered, genuinely seeming amazed by the notes as she began scrolling through. "You must have been working on this for years, it looks like you've got all of Paris listed out."

Chloe wasn't entirely sure what to say to this. Although it wasn't anywhere close to the whole population of Paris, it did satisfy the requirements of people who could be Hawkmoth: those that fit the metrics for age, wealth, body type, were all listed and summarily rejected as quickly as she could. Still, Marinette was right; it had taken years.

Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "Why is Gabriel Agreste marked SFR?"

"Slated for reevaluation," she explained. "Every once in a while, I'll learn or figure out something new about Hawkmoth which makes some of my previous designations inaccurate, so I try to mark those down so I can get back to them later, find a different reason to exclude them. It's usually not an issue finding something else, but I can't just let it slide."

"You're really careful about this, aren't you?" Marinette kept paging through the file.

'You're the most careful person I know. There's no one else I'd rather leave it to.'

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut against the memory.

'You're gonna do great things, Chloe.'

"Chloe?" Marinette gently laid a hand on her shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Chloe plastered on a smile, harder than stone and just as thick. "I'm fine, Marinette. Why do you ask?" She deftly removed the designer's hand from her shoulder, backing up a step to prevent her doing it again.

Marinette's lips pursed, but she didn't say anything more as she closed down the file and stood up again. She didn't try to put her hand on her shoulder again, either. "I should go."

She was still wearing her dress from Adrien's farewell gathering the night before. It could hardly be called comfortable, even without considering the heels. But as Marinette gathered her things and walked out the door, Chloe never suggested she borrow some of her own clothes she'd no doubt be an adequate fit for.

It was only later on, laundering the sheets Marinette had used and washing the dishes, her eyes skated over to a shelf holding a small yellow bear the thought even occurred.

"I should have at least called her a car," she murmured to herself. Shaking her head and returning to the dishes, she gave an almost silent sigh, the sound not even touching the walls of the large apartment. "Maybe..." she put the last plate away, "next time."

She closed her eyes, living for just a moment, in that next time, where she would say the right things, take the right steps and be, even for one day, a functional human being, instead of simply passing as one.

Then the moment ended, her eyes opened up again, and with the sheets folded and in their proper places, the dishes and cookware all banished to the back of her shelves and cabinets where she would continue to never use them, it was like Marinette was never there at all.

And thoughts of some childishly optimistic next time were quietly shuffled away as Chloe set about her day.

Chapter Text

There was a razor in her chest that twitched every time she thought about Adrien. Every time she saw his face on the walls of the Agreste design studio, every time she thought of his smile, or could almost hear his voice when her mind wandered. It was so painful she felt like she could die, but even with that, she wanted to see him again. To wave him off as he got on his plane, say goodbye, at least.

His father had changed Adrien's departure time. While Marinette was walking home from Chloe's apartment, phone out of battery long ago, Adrien was already on his plane.

Gone. Maybe forever. And she never got to say goodbye.

So when Chloe had said that the worst case scenario would be him saying no and a few days of awkwardness before he left, she was dreadfully, hilariously, wrong. This was the worst case scenario. One of her best friends gone, with the last thing she did probably ruining their entire friendship.

And what did Marinette do about it?

"The hemming on this piece is crooked. They'll still see it even though it's on the back, you know. Get Jenny, she'll help you take it out and redo it. Get it done straight, and get it done fast. Neither of us want Monsieur Agreste to see this." She turned away from the seamstress' hurried, 'oui, madame,' zeroing in on the next problem. "What's the word on Pierre? Is that delivery incoming or not?"

Nothing at all.

Adrien was gone, there was no helping that. But she still had Alya and Chat Noir and... Chloe.

'I'm fine, Marinette. Why do you ask?'

Her expression soured. "That's basting thread, use the hemming thread so it doesn't snap in a light breeze, please," she tried not to snap at the assistants assigned for the Winter Line, but the way they tried her patience did not help with her current mood.

Chloe had lied to her. Again. And so what? People lied all the time. It shouldn't have bothered her this much, except that it was Chloe. Chloe, who was so brutally, abrasively, honest that she caused more Akumas than anyone else. Chloe, who couldn't keep a superhero identity secret for longer than half a day. Chloe who'd said she was strong...

It wasn't the first time she'd lied to her. When she'd met her again in that counseling office, when she'd talked to her after that, it felt like her lies were a seasoning that peppered each conversation to taste. No.

Marinette pinched a bit of fabric between her fingers.

Chloe's lies were more like a coat she'd put on and take off when necessary, a covering from the cold outside.

'They would have turned against me either way.'

Her mother and father were dead, she had barely any friends, and it seemed like the whole of Paris hated her from the picture the online articles painted for her. So if she wore her lies like a coat, how cold, then, must the world have been to make her use it that way? How many times had she been burned by the name 'Chloe Bourgeois' to the point she never even said it to people like Sushil?

She had thought 'Doctor B' was just an affectionate nickname; now it seemed more like a mask. She wouldn't have been as annoyed by that.

"Pierre, if that delivery doesn't get here, the models will be forced to wear lovely, but Winter inappropriate, beach towels on the runway."

Except Chloe wore the mask with her.

Marinette wasn't an idiot, she knew they weren't friends. Having her practically say, flat out, that she didn't trust her still stung, however.

Even that would have been fine if Chloe always wore the mask with her, but she didn't. It was a constant metronome of flipping back and forth between trust and distrust and it was so, so, frustrating.

"Makes me want to scream," she muttered.

"I can echo the sentiment." Gabriel Agreste had somehow come up behind her during her ruminations, sounding as bored as ever despite sending his son away just that morning. "It feels like I replace these assistants every year but the result is always the same." He turned away. "Disappointing."

A part of her wanted to defend the assistants, say they were trying their best and for the most part their mistakes were small and easily amended. A larger part of her wanted to attack him for what he'd done to Adrien, keeping him close, sending him away, keeping that iron grip on his life that seemed to squeeze the happiness out of him like water from a sponge.

She wanted to. "Oui, monsieur." But she didn't.

She also wanted to go back home and wrap herself in a warm blanket, or take a shower that lasted more than a few minutes so she could try to get the grimy feeling she'd had since last night off of her body, or even have an Akuma attack so she could see Chat Noir and lose herself in being a superhero for a while.

There were a lot of things she wanted to do. But what she wanted to do rarely seemed to have any bearing on what she did do, of late.

"I'm satisfied you can handle this on your own," Gabriel Agreste turned away, but an impatient tapping sound of the stylus on her pad that Nathalie made, forced him to stop again. "Ah." He turned back to Marinette. "Your work is appreciated," he said, simply, and left a moment after.

She watched him go. "Okay?" She said, apparently to no one.

Shaking her head, she returned to the task at hand.

The day couldn't get any weirder.

(:*:)

The day couldn't get any worse.

Chloe brushed past the girl at the front desk of Honeycomb Counseling, ignoring whatever she was prattling on about as she made her way into her office, shut and locked the door behind her, and retrieved the small black ring Adrien decided it would be a brilliant idea to leave on her desk.

This was a disaster. Unmitigated. Unprecedented. Unbelievable.

She put on the ring, the color draining from it as Plagg emerged. "So," he began, looking her up and down appraisingly. "Guess I don't have to give you the new Kwami shpiel, huh?"

"I think we can safely dispense with that, yes," Chloe agreed, cupping her forehead with a hand.

He floated up beside her, placing a tiny paw on her arm. "So, uh, what do we do now?"

"Now?" She stood up straight and adjusted her clothes from their slightly disheveled state, attempting to regain some sense of composure. "Adrien never got his meeting with Ladybug, which means no explanation that he had to leave, no telling her who I am, and seeing as the last time she saw me, she mistook me for either an Akuma or a Miraculous thief, I don't think the odds of a warm reception when she sees us as Catspaw again are very good."

"Wow." Plagg nodded at the assessment. "Really sounds like we're caught by the dog on this one."

"Yes, it's great to hear this little bad luck charm is still operating at max capacity," she said dryly, motioning to the ring. "So, yes, best case scenario, Ladybug doesn't immediately attack me, I explain what happened, she believes me... somehow, and-" she hesitated. "And she'll ask for the Cat Miraculous, to assign it to a proper user. I give it to her, and that's that. You end up in the hands of some capable individual Ladybug actually trusts."

If Plagg had eyebrows, she got the distinct impression he would have been raising one. "That's the best case scenario? You just give me away?"

Chloe slammed a fist down on the desk. "I will not be the one who steals a Miraculous meant for someone else," she spat. "Not again."

"This isn't the same as the Bee Miraculous," Plagg protested. "Adrien chose you."

"Adrien's not here. He's not the one who has to fight beside me, and he's not the one who gets the final say. If he had told Ladybug before, then maybe he could have convinced her, but there's no way she's going to trust me now, it just..." she sat roughly down, her body going limp with defeat. "It just won't work."

Plagg sighed, but didn't argue back, for the moment. "So that's the plan, then?"

"That's the best case scenario," she corrected. "The likely scenario is what the plan's for, and that gets... messy."

"How messy?" He asked, tone some mix between skeptical and wary.

Chloe shrugged. "I'd need to acquire a firearm in some variations."

Plagg made a face so disgusted Chloe physically felt it, though maybe that was actually some connection through the ring.

"Didn't think you'd be fond of that one," she remarked, sardonically.

"Let's try one of those variations where we don't need that," he agreed.

"In that case, we'll have to wait for a particularly nasty Akuma, which means setting one up ourselves, or just hoping we'll be close enough when one comes around." To Plagg, it seemed like she viewed both these options with equal distaste.

"Looks like we're waiting for one, then," Plagg decided, and at Chloe's answering nod, breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't actually stop her from forcibly causing an Akuma if she wanted to, so thankfully she didn't have her heart set on it.

A handful of minutes passed, but Chloe had neither moved from her chair, nor said a word. Plagg tried calling her name, but her eyes seemed unfocused, staring out at nothing.

Stuck.

It took a few minutes more, of Plagg trying everything he could think of, before he could rouse her from whatever thought or memory she had become trapped in. Even then, it seemed less like he had truly woken her from it and more like he'd just waited out the clock.

"Hmm? Plagg?" Her eyes sharpened into their usual clarity as her mind fell back into step. "What's going on?"

"You tell me," he floated so he was eye level, arms folded across his chest. "You just zoned out for, like, ten minutes."

"It's..." she shook her head, looking away. "It's not important. Just another reason I shouldn't be a superhero."

Plagg sighed. "Could you at least consider the idea that Ladybug would respect Adrien's decision?"

"The decision she never heard him make, and only has my word that it ever happened?" She snapped back, annoyedly. "Yeah, right."

"She has my word," Plagg said, quietly.

Chloe froze for a moment, surprise blanketing her face before her usual impassivity could cover it up. "Yeah... I guess she does." She held her jacket open for him to hide under. "Come on. It's past time I should have eaten something."

The Kwami dove under her jacket, a warm spot by her chest. It was funny, she'd been touched by Kwami's before, and logically she knew this was where Plagg hid on Adrien, but she'd never expected actual heat to come from it. She'd thought it'd be odd when she first felt it, but as she left the office and drove toward a restaurant for her next meal, it became something of a comfort.

Plagg was there, even if just for the moment.

Chloe seated herself in the back of the restaurant, chewing lightly on the cassoulet that was provided for her, and allowed herself a small, private, smile.

Her lips were even as she paid and left, however, reflecting on the time she still had left. Waiting for an Akuma, huh?

She had a week, at most.

There was a small part inside her that hoped that Ladybug would somehow let her keep it, hold onto that warmth a little longer, and though Chloe tried to squash it down, she just wasn't quite strong enough.

The small piece of hope remained.

(:*:)

The Winter line was back on schedule, even if only just, thanks in no small part to Marinette's efforts, a fact she was uncomfortably aware of. It was one thing for her to value her job as important, but quite another to realize that, in the event of her taking a break, there would be no one around capable of picking up her slack.

She couldn't get distracted anymore.

It was a statement she repeated to herself all the way up to Chloe's apartment door.

She didn't know what she was doing, didn't have a real plan at all.

Still.

Her hand reached up to deliver a few sharp knocks.

It took a while, long enough for Marinette to start reconsidering the whole thing, which made it altogether too long. But Chloe managed to answer the door before she could truly change her mind.

"Dupain-Cheng," she said, surprise tracing her voice. "I don't think you left anything when you were here."

"I want to help." Marinette didn't leave anything, but she wasn't going to explain that. She wasn't going to say hello, and exchange idle chatter, because Chloe didn't care, and at that moment Marinette couldn't bring herself to, either. So, she got straight to the point. "If anyone's going to find Hawkmoth, it's going to be you. I'm prepared to help in whatever ways I can."

Chloe paused, for a few moments, eyebrows furrowing. "You realize that what I'm doing is illegal, right?"

This forced Marinette back a step. "What?"

She closed her eyes, visibly annoyed. "You think I organized mass surveillance in a major metropolitan area, perfectly above board with no one knowing about it?"

"I just never thought about it before," Marinette snapped. "I don't actually spend what little free time I have, brushing up on Parisian privacy laws, you know."

"Well, now you've thought about it," she answered acerbically. "And I should warn you, that if I find out I've been reported to the police for it, then you may find me dropping by your work extremely annoyed."

Marinette let the threat pass by, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm down. "I'm not going to turn you in, and you're not going to be dropping by my work for any reason. I already told you, I want to help, so that's what I'll do." She held out a hand. "If you'll let me."

Chloe stared down at it, then shifted her gaze to look at her, expression something akin to incomprehension. "Why?"

Wasn't that obvious? Marinette thought. "Because I want Hawkmoth caught? Because, legal or not, I've seen the work you've put into this, and I think you have a shot of doing it? Because I'm tired of doing nothing but reacting and I want to actually strike back at Hawkmoth in a meaningful way? Take your pick, I've got more."

Chloe sighed, muttering something Marinette couldn't pick up, but finally reached forward and took the hand. "Your timing is suspiciously lucky, so I'll agree on three conditions."

Marinette tried not to bristle that her offer to help came with so many strings attached, and just nodded, prompting Chloe to continue.

"First condition, this is illegal and dangerous; if Hawkmoth finds out we're onto him, he could have us killed, and if anyone else does, they could have us arrested. Now, since I don't want to be killed or arrested, you have to do what I say, when I say it. This is not a democracy, you get no vote."

That condition was predictable enough, but seeing as Marinette had no criminal experience before, it was also easy enough to agree to. "Fine."

It was hard to tell if Chloe's frown lightened or became more pronounced at the acceptance. "Second condition, no matter what you see me do, you can't tell the police, and you can't tell Ladybug."

Marinette's eyebrows perked up at this. "Why can't I tell Ladybug?"

Chloe looked down at her nails, forcing idleness into her voice. "I'm currently in a delicate situation with Ladybug, and I don't need any more complications."

Delicate situation with Ladybug? Marinette tried to think back to the last time she'd interacted with Chloe as Ladybug, but the closest she could remember was months ago.

Still. "Deal." It would be interesting to see just what Chloe wanted to hide from Ladybug, and she wouldn't actually be 'telling' Ladybug anything, so it was easy enough to agree to.

"Third condition, if you see a possible Akumatization you may be able to prevent, or in the event of an Akuma attack itself, you can break the first condition if it would save someone. We're here to stop Hawkmoth, not help him."

Marinette blinked, surprised. Given how ironclad that first condition was, she hadn't expected one to go against it, particularly for something like that, and this way she wouldn't have to think of an excuse to leave what they were doing to be Ladybug. "Yeah, that's… I can agree to that."

Chloe nodded, sharply, turning and walking back into her apartment but leaving the door open. "In that case, I guess, welcome to the team."

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, expression becoming determined a moment later.

She was going to find Hawkmoth.

She was going to stop him.

"What do I need to know?"

(:*:)

Gabriel Agreste sat back with an uneasy sigh, reaching a hand up to rub circles in his temple in a vain attempt to stave off the rising headache he was feeling.

After Emilie had fallen into her coma, the house he lived in had quickly become far too big in his mind. The thought that she was there, just behind some corner in their mansion, and that simply wandering into the next room, or maybe the next room, or maybe the next, would somehow magically produce her was unbearable, haunting him even in its ridiculousness.

Gabriel confined himself to a few rooms in the house, rarely if ever going into any others. It wasn't a solution, but imagining his home as that much smaller did provide a temporary relief.

Temporary, only.

Emilie was an ache, a void in his chest that grew as every day passed without her, her smile, her voice, painfully felt in their absence. As Adrien grew more distant, as he went to school, made friends, met new people, dated, despite how much Gabriel had fought him every step of the way, the void got bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow him whole.

But the void, too, Gabriel knew, was temporary.

Earrings and a ring, three miserable scraps of metal, and he'd be able to wake her, bring her back into his life, and the void would be filled. Adrien had been… upset by his father's strictness, he'd pushed back, but once he'd seen what it was all for, he'd be back. They'd all be a family again.

Gabriel had sent Adrien away to Hong Kong, to protect him. He'd tried to distance his son from any of the temperamental teens that were so easily Akumatized, but that had failed, and Adrien himself was put into danger far more times than was acceptable. Getting him away from Paris was the only option.

Only temporarily.

When he got the Miraculouses, Adrien would be back.

When he got the Miraculouses, the house would be the right size.

When he got the Miraculouses, he would go outside again.

When he got the Miraculouses, it would be better.

When he got the Miraculouses, he would be happy.

All of this was only temporary.

Gabriel closed his eyes, resting, only for a moment. He still had so much to do. The Winter Line was hitting snags left and right, he had to supervise his next crop of butterflies, and he still hadn't Akumatized anyone that day. He would only rest for a moment.

Gabriel woke hours later. The sun had already set, there was a pain in his neck from sleeping upright in the chair, and the house was too big.

Breathing an uneasy sigh, he shuffled off to bed. He could have taken something for his neck, but why bother?

The pain was temporary.

Chapter Text

When Chloe was young, she asked a lot of questions. Sometimes it was about the world, something like what shadows were, or how peanut butter was made, or why sometimes pieces of the moon just weren't there at all, and whatever adult in the room stricken with that job, that day, would do their best to answer or distract her from her latest curiosity. But it wasn't those questions Chloe really struggled with, it wasn't those she sometimes found herself asking, even without voicing them, well after an age she felt she should have understood. Usually those problematic questions were about people.

"How come I can order Jean-Luc to do stuff, but when I try to do it at school, they get mad?"

"Why is she crying?"

"If policemen order everyone around and my dad orders policemen around, why can't he order everyone around?"

"Why is he laughing?"

"Why do people kiss each other?"

"What's a badguy?"

Chloe sighed.

"Am I a badguy?"

She never got good answers to those questions.

"Did you say something?" Marinette poked her head into the room, working on some frothing mixture Chloe couldn't identify, with a whisk. She'd developed an annoying habit of stopping by her apartment more often, recently, which Chloe put half to their new agreement trying to track down Hawkmoth, and half to her irrational concern Chloe had no idea how to deal with a broken leg.

"Just musing," she deflected, resting her cheek on her fist. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Shouldn't you be relaxing?" Marinette shot back, breezily, fully entering the room to lean on the doorframe. "I practically had to nail you to a chair just so you could take a day off. The whole point is kind of ruined if you spend it scowling into a corner."

"I didn't realize you decided to become a nurse on the side," Chloe drawled. "Should I start hiding my jewelry?"

Marinette rolled her eyes, wandering back into the kitchen now that she was apparently satisfied with the mix. "Chloe, your jewelry is not being stolen by every medical professional in Paris."

"So you admit it's being stolen by some of them," Chloe countered, victoriously.

She could hear Marinette laughing in the next room, which wasn't her intent but was a fine enough outcome.

It all felt... content.

She hummed to herself, sinking into the warmth of the expensive armchair her apartment held.

There was some idle part of her that wondered if this was what 'next time' felt like, but almost before the thought had even occurred, her expression soured.

Chloe roughly pushed herself to her feet, finding her crutches to avoid an argument from Marinette as she made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" She asked as Chloe fumbled with managing the doorhandle and her crutches at the same time.

"Out." Her tone was curt, and the designer took a step back in surprise.

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

Chloe glanced to the side, taking in her body language. Eyebrows furrowed, back slightly hunched, hugging mixing bowl tighter to herself, receding. Sad? Concerned? Disappointed?

Ugh.

Chloe slicked a smile onto her face, straightening up. "What? No, I just need some air, that's all. Relax, Marinette, I'll be back in a few."

Marinette nodded, but her body language barely changed.

Hmm, that usually worked.

"Have a nice walk," she said, refocusing her eyes on the mixing bowl with purpose as she began whisking once again. "Stay off that leg, alright?"

Chloe gave some mumbled assurance. Then she left.

Navigating down the stairs with crutches, a nightmare in itself, was only made more annoying by Plagg's appearance out from under her jacket. It had been nearly a week with no Akuma appearance yet, and in that time he'd gotten something of a measure of her character.

"You don't have to leave just because things are going alright, you know," he sighed. "Take it from a guy that breaks stuff more often than not; you should just enjoy it while you have it."

"How kind of you to compare my situation with that of a godlike immortal creature," Chloe grunted. "The parallels are endless."

"Point," he acknowledged. "How about I compare you to my other users, instead?" Chloe grunted, which he took as license to continue. "Generally, my Miraculous is attracted to scrappers, people used to getting by with what they have, and sometimes screwing up and losing even that."

"I don't think hooking up with two of the richest people in Paris sounds a lot like scrappers to me," she huffed.

He leveled a deadpan stare at her. "You of all people should know the physical isn't the only thing someone can struggle without."

She paused for a moment, then continued moving down the stairs. "No one asked."

"You should go back," he advised, trying and failing to sound as disinterested as possible. "You haven't eaten yet, and, more importantly, I haven't had any camembert all day."

Chloe kept moving down the stairs.

"Marinette's going to be sad you're gone," he offered.

"I don't care," she snapped back. "And she shouldn't either. She should hate me."

"She doesn't." He sighed. "And neither does Alix."

She slipped on a step, sending a jolt of pain through her leg that forced her to grit her teeth and breathe for a few seconds. "They're both idiots."

"It might not be the wisest choice," he acknowledged. "But they already made it. Nothing you can do now but enjoy it or destroy it."

She pushed onward. "Then I'll destroy it."

Plagg laughed, the sound sending a prickling feeling up her back. "That seems like an awful lot of work for something you don't gain anything from."

Chloe stopped moving.

"I heard last time, she made you omelettes." He tapped a paw to his chin in faux-thought. "Wonder what she's making this time."

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You're trying to convince me to play nice with Dupain-Cheng, and the thing you're offering in exchange is... food?"

He shrugged. "To be fair, it's always worked with me. But no, you're going to be playing nice with her either way, I'm just pointing out you could be gaining something for it."

Chloe stared at him, expression utterly blank as her mind clicked away. Finally, she turned around and started going up the stairs once again. "You're worse than Mr. Cuddly."

"Well now you're just being petty," he huffed, following after her.

(:*:)

Marinette should have been at work. She was needed at work. This was a critical time for work. Work was where she was paid to be. Why wasn't she at work?

She rolled the handmade pastry dough out with a rolling pin, her frustration bleeding through with the effort.

Instead she was here, where she wasn't needed, wasn't wanted, and where a completely fine time could be randomly interrupted by some bee Chloe had gotten in her bonnet that Marinette couldn't even identify. Was she upset that Marinette didn't believe her about the jewelry?

She traded snipes with Alix all the time, but Marinette guessed they weren't really at the same level of friendship. She'd probably overstepped her boundaries, somewhere.

"It'd be easier to not overstep my boundaries if I had any idea where the boundaries were," she sighed, wiping her forehead with a sleeve. "Tikki, why is this so complicated?"

Tikki floated up from one side of the room, having abandoned her usual purse location shortly after Marinette began cooking. "Chloe isn't like you, Marinette. I don't think trying to imagine what you would do in her place is going to help all that much."

Marinette had to acknowledge that point. So far, she'd been utterly horrible at guessing which twists Chloe's mind would make in any given situation. "But then what should I do? If I ask Chloe, she'll just lie. Again."

Marinette's nose crinkled. She hated it when Chloe lied especially. With other people it was annoying, but when Chloe did it, it felt unnatural in a way she couldn't pin down. It was wrong.

And she did it constantly.

"What do you know about Chloe?" Tikki asked, leadingly. "She's done this before, hasn't she?"

"What, suddenly up and left without warning? Of course she has." When she'd left the office saying she had a 'meeting,' when she'd suddenly dropped her keys in Marinette's lap and left her at Sushil's, even in little ways, conversations suddenly ended, rooms suddenly exited, Chloe did it all the time.

"Do you know why?" Tikki asked, prompting a shrug from Marinette.

"Most of the time, I figured it was just cause she hated me."

"If she hated you so much, why would she let you help with Hawkmoth?" Tikki said, reasonably.

It might have been more convincing if Chloe was more reasonable.

"I don't know," Marinette huffed. "Maybe it's a whim, maybe she's just looking for an opportunity to boss me around, maybe she wants me to do illegal stuff and then have Alix arrest me."

"Framing you would be easier."

Marinette jumped at Chloe's sudden appearance, her gaze quickly sweeping around the area to make sure Tikki wasn't in view. "How-what?"

"I wouldn't need you to actually commit crimes when I could just frame you for it." Chloe shrugged. "It's easier to control that way, and I wouldn't have to deal with you as much."

"Well, why aren't you doing that?" Marinette asked, sourly.

"Because, shockingly, I don't want you here on a whim, I'm not looking for an opportunity to boss you around, and I have no particular desire to see you in prison." She spread her hands. "I need your help. That's all."

Marinette folded her arms across her chest, drawing in on herself. "Seemed like you were doing fine on your own."

Chloe stared.

Anger spiked through Marinette's frame. "What? Say something," she snapped.

After another moment, she did.

"Doing fine?" Chloe echoed, disbelievingly. "My leg is broken. My city is plagued by monster attacks getting more common by the day. There are only three people in the entire world who halfway tolerate me, and one of them just moved to China while I have no idea why the third exists. The only two heroes left to defend the city are just about to suffer a massive unavoidable setback. I've been working for years to try to find the identity of a man who commonly disappears for hours at a time in the middle of the day, an activity-" a chuckle broke through her lips- "someone must have noticed by now, with no firm suspects. I've been invited to a wedding social conduct requires me to attend when I'd rather boil my eyes in glass, and as you've no doubt learned by now with your relentless snooping, my best friend and parents are dead." She shuddered with some mixture of laughter and rage. "So enlighten me, Dupain-Cheng, under what possible definition any of that could be considered 'doing fine'?"

At Marinette's stunned silence, she sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. "There are things I can't do, angles I just can't... see. I need you, Dupain-Cheng." She ran a shaking hand through her hair. "If I want to stop Hawkmoth, help Ladybug, do something right, I need you."

Marinette backed up a step, indecision warring on her face. "I'm not sure I'm nearly as special as you seem to think I am."

"I never needed someone special," Chloe admitted. "I just needed someone to ask."

It wasn't the same as in Alix's place. There wasn't the pressure of still-throbbing wounds, or the lingering webs of sleep trapping her to the couch, and there was no ticking of some half buried clock to match the spaces between words.

When Chloe stopped speaking, the room descended into silence so deep Marinette felt like her own breaths were gasps in comparison, and she missed the clock, and the wounds, and the half-awake fuzziness in her brain, like she missed anything else that could have distracted her focus. Instead, there was nothing.

It was just her, and Chloe.

Marinette worked her mouth open and closed a few times, trying to will something intelligible from her thoughts. "I can never tell if you're so incredibly complicated or just really really simple."

Chloe watched her, though whether she was waiting to speak out of politeness or because she had nothing left to say, Marinette wasn't sure.

"Why do you leave?" Marinette asked, quietly.

Chloe seemed to sag at the question. "Because pretending is hard," she gave a weak smile, "and I can't keep it up forever."

Marinette looked at her for a minute, then finally nodded.

"Okay," she said.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Marinette turned back to her pastry, quickly cutting out sections, then rolling it expertly around cheese she'd already sliced before. "I'm going to put this in the oven, then it should be ready in a few minutes. Do you mind making coffee?"

Chloe blinked. "That's it?"

Marinette set the baking tray in the oven, clapping flour off her hands. "That's it," she confirmed. "I've decided you're complicated, which means I'm going to be simple: you're frustrating, and weird, and I hate, hate, hate it when you lie to me. But I'm here, I want to be here. And I want to be your friend... if you'll let me."

There was a right answer here, Chloe was sure. An apology, an agreement, there was something she was waiting for, the blonde couldn't identify. She didn't have time to figure something out, either.

Plagg pressed against her, warm, present. Next time...

This time.

"I'll make as much coffee as you want," Chloe promised. "For as long as you want."

Marinette laughed, eyes shining, happy.

Was that the right answer?

She wrapped her in a hug.

Chloe guessed it was.

(:*:)

Alya's ringer was not on by choice, it was a necessity of her job that she be able to take tips, notices from her publisher and editor, and notifications of any kind of emergencies already covered elsewhere so that she could drop whatever else she was doing and attend to that instead.

At times where the shrill screech of her ringtone pierced a desperately needed midafternoon nap, she would consider this the worst aspect of her job by far.

Swinging her legs off the couch with enough force it slammed her right heel painfully on the floor, Alya cursed her way to the table holding her phone and answered. "Césaire here," she groaned.

"Alya, I- are you alright? You sound terrible." Marinette, with the seemingly limitless compassion that had been her staple since they were children.

Alya might have felt a little more compassioned-for, if she had been allowed to sleep longer, but she acknowledged it either way. "Just been a long week at work, girl. I'm all good. What's up?"

"I think I'm friends with Chloe now," Marinette announced, excitedly.

"Congrats?" Alya yawned. "Didn't know you were going for that."

"Well, yeah." Alya could practically hear Marinette picking at a piece of fluff on her shirt at that. "More friends is always good, right?"

Alya lifted an eyebrow. "I guess," she said carefully. "Is that the only reason?"

There was silence on the other end, and Alya lifted the phone away from her ear so she could make sure Marinette hadn't disconnected, but she was still there.

"Do you remember the day Adrien left?" She finally asked.

Alya's eyes widened. "Oh my god, Marinette. I completely spaced, did you confess? What did he say? I can't believe we've gone an entire week without talking about this."

She used to be so good at that. When they were in school together Marinette's life was her life, in a way. Her confession with Adrien was so important and now... it had already happened and Alya hadn't even given her a call to see how it went.

What happened to them?

Marinette breathed deeply before answering, voice forced even, battered into place like metal in a forge. "I did confess, and he... said no."

Alya's heart sank.

"Oh."

She could feel Marinette's wry smile through the phone. "Yeah."

Alya bit her lip. "I'm-"

"Please," Marinette interrupted, forcefully. "Don't say you're sorry. It happened, it's done."

The apology ghosted past her lips, unsaid.

"After that," she continued, "Chloe found me. We talked and she took me back to her apartment. She told a story about Alix and coffee and... I dunno." She sighed. "It was nice, is all."

"Well, that sounds like friends to me." Alya hummed. "That would've sent younger you's head spinning, I bet."

"It's-" she hesitated. "I think it would have made younger me glad."

"Glad?" Alya said, skeptically. "Marinette, I don't know if you remember this, but Chloe used to be kinda..."

"I know, she used to be awful, but I think I would've been glad just to know it was possible for someone to be friends with her. What she had back then was... you remember Sabrina, right?" She asked.

"Glasses? Red hair? Chloe's lapdog?" Alya gave a low whistle. "Yeah, I remember. She was annoying, but I always felt kind of bad for her with all the stuff Chloe put her through."

"It wasn't friends, really, I never thought of them that way, but-" by the frush of hair against the mic, Alya guessed she was shaking her head. "I don't know. Something Chloe said today has me thinking about it. In any case, that, when she took me to her apartment, I don't think that's when we were friends, not officially anyway, that was just her being nice."

"That's pretty nice for someone you're not even friends with," Alya commented, amused. "Mari, you know you can be friends without like a strict verbal agreement of that, right?"

"I don't make fun of the way you make friends, so you can't make fun of the way I make mine," she pouted. "Besides, I can guarantee we weren't friends at that point. She was shocked when I offered to help find H-"

Alya checked the phone again, but Marinette still hadn't disconnected. "Find who? You cut off at the end there."

"Just some guy," Marinette said, quickly. "A-anyway, I'm ninety-five percent sure we're friends now."

"Mmhmm," Alya hummed, amused. "You seem pretty happy about that," she teased lightly, expecting a denial.

"Of course I'm happy about that," Marinette admitted, easily. "Finding out her favorite color felt like an expedition, the fact I can say we're friends now is like a miracle."

Alya raised an eyebrow. "This is Doctor B we're talking about, right? Is she really all that mysterious?"

Marinette laughed. Hard.

"Okay, definitely missing some context here..." Alya allowed.

"It's just... wow, you have no idea how hard it's been," she asserted, her chuckles still audible through the receiver.

"I don't know if I get it, but I'm glad you got a win, Marinette." Alya smiled, hoping to project the expression through her voice. "You deserve it."

"Thanks." If Alya's smile sounded anything like the one she could hear from Marinette, then she was sure she managed it. "It really does feel like that, you know? Like a win."

The tone she said that in, the way she seemed to prize it as such a rarity made Alya's throat clench. It was more than obvious Marinette didn't just deserve a win, she needed one.

"Yeah?" Alya managed, after a moment.

"Yep," she said, brightly. "My luck's turning around, Alya. I just know it."

Alya grinned at the undimmed optimism. "I hope so, girl. Go get it."

"I will. Meet up for lunch on Sunday?" She asked.

Alya nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."

With goodbyes exchanged on both sides, the phone call ended and Alya relaxed into her couch.

Marinette had spent the last week, confessing to the love of her life, getting rejected, being taken in by an old rival, discovering her secrets and finally befriending her on top of her designing job and no doubt any one of her many creative hobbies.

Alya had been wearing the same shirt for the past three days, editing her articles in a darkened apartment by the pale blue glow of her computer screen.

"I need to get out more," Alya commented to the empty room.

The room gave no response, but that seemed more of a confirmation to her than anything else.

Opening her phone again, she navigated to the contacts, scrolling through them with an idle hand. Adrien was gone, Marinette she'd see on Sunday, Nino...

Her finger hovered over the contact picture, a selfie with the two of them, both with the goofiest grins imaginable. Their anniversary.

She scrolled quickly away, her thumb stopping over a recent contact addition. After a few seconds’ indecision, she tapped into it, giving it a call.

The phone was picked up after the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Kagami. Are you..." Alya hesitated, suddenly feeling ridiculous, but forced through it regardless, "doing anything today?"

Chapter Text

The murder room hadn't gotten any less murdery, Marinette wanted to be clear on that. It still held a cold foreboding nature no amount of time spent in it could quite pierce. The fact there weren't any windows or lights beyond the computer didn't help in that regard, but even beyond that there was something about the space that twisted Marinette's stomach.

So many drawings of Hawkmoth, of his Miraculous, and then a single one of hers and Chat's, it was more than the obsession, it was a mixup of priorities Marinette couldn't reconcile with her own.

If it came down to it, Marinette would sacrifice Hawkmoth's Miraculous for the Cat and Ladybug, but Chloe? It almost seemed to be the reverse.

She wanted to believe she was wrong about that.

In the end, it was the actual organization of the files that gave Marinette some comfort. She'd always been a perfectionist, making sure every little thing was in its place. Seeing Chloe's work, every observation, every time and place recorded, every fact listed with reasonable guesses marked as such, it felt like an impeccably specified blueprint, a design for a net she slowly weaved around Hawkmoth with every new finding.

It was perfect. Almost.

Marinette clicked her teeth, the sound seeming to die only a few inches from her face in the otherwise silent room. "Another one?"

She moved the file into a new folder she'd made for ones she had questions or observations on, to bring up to Chloe later. Some of them were minor, questions about some of the shorthand or acronyms Chloe had a tendency to use, but some of the more recent edits bothered her.

Seeing a variety of small-time gang leaders marked impossible wasn't unusual, but having no notes on how that was determined, that was excessively strange. It was the kind of oversight Chloe simply didn't make in these documents.

Except she did. Again, and again, and, "again." Marinette groaned, sliding another file into the folder.

That made seven. Seven oddities meant a pattern and this wasn't the sort of pattern Marinette wanted to see.

Her best guess of how this came about was that Chloe had been having some kind of off week when she'd made the edits, or been called away before she could complete the entries and never got back to them, but that kind of sloppiness might not have been constrained to the seven she found. If that were the case, all of the determinations from that off week became suspect, and they'd have to go through them all to determine the judgements were sound.

But Marinette didn't want to believe Chloe would make mistakes to that degree, which meant the real answer was something else she couldn't guess, and Marinette's head would spin with worse and worse assumptions that never got her any closer to an answer.

Her phone chirped with the alarm she set.

No Chloe today... again.

Marinette stood up, her limbs making unpleasant popping sounds as she stretched out the residual soreness hours spent hunched over a computer screen inevitably brought with it.

It was a different kind of soreness to fighting as Ladybug, or working on a new design, it felt hollower somehow. She knew her time wasn't being wasted, but after all that work, to have nothing actually created by the end of it didn't feel right.

Even as Ladybug, she knew she was inspiring, she was helping people; with this?

She was all alone in Chloe's secret Hawkmoth murder room, eyes glazing over as she tracked through camera footage after camera footage, marking every suspect's location, tracking the paths of black butterflys against those locations because one of the only pieces of information they had was that the Akumas had to come from him.

It was tiring, it was grueling, and at the end of the day they didn't even have a chief suspect for Hawkmoth, just another random man who fit a demographic crossed off the list.

Marinette fit Chloe's spare key into the door, locking up the apartment behind her. Receiving the key to her apartment was a gesture from Alya, some assurance of trust and friendship years ago, but from Chloe it was just business.

"I may not be in the apartment to let you in. Just come in when you have time. I emailed you the instructions and there's another printed copy I left on the desk. Follow those and you should be fine."

Trust wasn't the primary feeling Marinette got from that.

That wasn't to say Chloe didn't trust her, she'd never have let her help otherwise, but that trust didn't manifest in any way Marinette was used to.

Alya's trust was like a fishing line, a connection between two people that only went taut when she wanted to bring her friends closer. But Chloe's was more like a thin metal rod, inconspicuous but unbending, and acting equally to keep someone close as to push them away.

Taking a moment to collect herself, Marinette went down the stairs and out of the building, the sun on her face doing little to alleviate the sinking chill the end of year slowly gathered as it prepared for the next.

She didn't have a problem with the cold per-se, but it was much harder to admire people's fashions when everyone was bundled up in puffy Winter coats.

Her smile tipped downward at the thought of fashion.

The Winter line was nearly done, so much work from her and others almost at its completion, but even that she couldn't help but feel dissatisfaction toward. In terms of construction, it was perfect; Marinette had long ago grasped the underpinnings to her craft, no pun intended. In terms of style, elegant and dashing. But in terms of life all the designs felt...empty.

Nothing she'd made had ever felt empty before.

There were good odds she was just overreacting. Fretting about designs just before such an important project was finished made far too much sense, and there wasn't much she could do to try and change it at this point, regardless. At the end of the day, all she could do was work to the end, trust that, when everything was said and done, it would all work out.

"Things are gonna work out, right, Tikki?" She asked the open air.

"I think as long as you work hard and trust in your friends, it will," Tikki whispered from inside her purse.

Marinette took a deep, bracing, breath. "Thanks, Tikki."

Wrapping herself tighter in her coat, Marinette began the long trek to the Agreste design studio.

She had work to do, after all.

(:*:)

Commandant Legrand's office was a fair match to his person, simple and militant, but with a tender geniality seeping through in bits and pieces, like lesions leaking kindness instead of pus.

A simple oak table held a computer monitor, mouse and keyboard, with the tower squirreled away underneath. There was a wastebin to the side, with all the trash folded neatly to take up as little space as possible, and a handful of paper folders for ongoing investigations as the only other thing breaking up the table's surface. No photographs of family or friends, and no personal items spoke to a level of strictness on first viewing Legrand only pretended to have.

To see him, Chloe had to look a little closer.

Pictures of loved ones on his work computer, a wallpaper of his dog. A mug given to him by a first grade class where he did a talk on stranger danger sitting beside a coffeemaker in the back. A birthday card passed around the office buried among the case files, and the armrests of his chair, worn until the paint flaked from getting up and sitting down so many times to talk with the other members of the service.

Legrand wanted the appearance of inflexible calculation when inside he was as friendly and helpful as his desktop dog.

The irony of her own situation when the two interacted wasn't lost on her.

"Anything for me today, Miss Bourgeois?" He asked, unable to keep some cheer from his voice.

"Bills, I'm afraid," Chloe said with false sympathy. "And some spam, but I didn't look too hard, so there could be an actual letter in there somewhere."

"I doubt it," he huffed. "I'm afraid real letters have gone the way of the dinosaurs, and soon enough me along with it."

"Ridiculous, sir." Her cheeks lifted in a perfect facsimile of a smile. "You're going to live to be a hundred and two."

"Flatterer." He began paging through the letters with an affected scowl. "Anything... else, today?"

"Still no packages." She hesitated. "Do you think whoever it was decided to stop sending them?"

"I wouldn't count on it. He's gone dark for stretches before. Traveling, infiltrating, or maybe just trying to make me think something happened to him, couldn't say for sure. But sooner or later, he always pops back up again. Like some kind of..." he snapped his fingers, searching for the word.

"Tumor?" Chloe offered.

He coughed for a moment, choking on his own surprised spittle. "What? No. Jesus, Bourgeois, I was gonna saw gopher." He looked at her askance for a moment before adding, "didn't take you for someone as grim as all that."

"Ugh, I'm such an idiot, of course you meant gopher. I'm usually not so dark, it's just been... on my mind, is all." She scratched the back of her neck, looking away. "I'd rather not talk about it, if that's alright?"

The human mind was staggeringly incompetent at a great many things; Chloe had learned that long ago. But filling in the blanks in conversation, looking in the dark and guessing at a monster far more fearsome than an artist could render, it was exceptional at that.

Telling lies was a bet, wagering her memory against an opponent. Whoever remembered the lie longer won. But if someone could truly master manipulating the blanks in conversation, then they would never have to lie even once. The victim would make up a lie for themselves, every time.

"Of course," Legrand said, consolingly. "I hope you'll forgive me for the unpleasant reminder."

"No, it's my mistake." She waved a hand. "Forget I said anything."

He wouldn't, but it hardly mattered either way.

Chloe excused herself from the office, inwardly already making plans for the next package. She'd probably kept him waiting long enough, but it was important to set random gaps so the lack of packages when she was too busy to work a mail shift weren't seen as suspicious.

It was never the lying that annoyed Chloe, just the upkeep.

"Yo, Chlo," Alix called out before she'd managed to fully escape the building. "I've got an early thing on Saturday and it's way closer to your place. You mind if I crash there the night before?"

"That's fine." She waved a hand, still temporarily smiling. "I might not be there, but just use your key."

"Cool." Alix shot her a thumbs up before returning to her work.

Chloe never asked what particular 'thing' Alix had early on a Saturday morning, but there was a good reason for that. It was because she had utterly no interest in knowing the answer.

That attitude tended to save time more often than not.

She turned to go again, but again Alix interrupted her. "Oh, don't forget there's a meeting tonight. You gonna be there?"

Chloe wished she could say no. There were few things she found more tedious, even including her security footage watching, note taking, 'hobby'. But it was a necessary step to prevent future sloppiness on her part.

No more mistakes. Not ever.

At the very least until she'd dealt with Hawkmoth.

"I'll be there," she promised.

Alix grinned at that, and Chloe turned once more to leave before her phone buzzed insistently, causing her demeanor to crack. "Oh, what is it now?"

She checked the messages, then grimaced.

"Alix," she called, and the redhead looked up, eyebrows creased at the change in tone. "I might get there late," she informed her flatly.

"Why?"

The purple lightbulb against one wall began to flash, accompanied by a harsh whining siren that set everyone in the station at attention.

"That's why."

There was an Akuma in the city.

(:*:)

The Akuma victims were getting younger. No. Maybe she was just getting older, it was getting harder to tell lately. Had she really been this young when she started out? Had Hawkmoth targeted her classmates, children who couldn't fight back against their own emotions, without even a moment's hesitation? Had he sat in a tower somewhere, content to tear away at childhoods like the wings off a fly?

The only answer she kept landing on was yes.

"I am so sick of grownups telling me what to do." Ladybug dodged the electric charge the Akuma sent her way, feeling it stand the hairs on her arm with how close it came to striking, even under her costume.

She'd been electrified before, of course. Stabbed, beaten, a victim of bloodless dismembering, paralyzed, had her voice stolen, almost drowned too many times to count, blinded, deafened, poisoned, fought a number of copycats wearing her face, her parents, friends, rivals, strangers, all twisted beyond even the shadow of recognition, Ladybug had done it all.

But had she ever been this young?

Living Lightning, that was the name it had, the one that, according to Chloe's notes, Hawkmoth gave the little girl his Akuma possessed. How Chloe even knew that was a question, but it was far from the most elusive trivia she'd somehow gleaned regarding Hawkmoth.

How did she know, anyway? Some of the information, little bits and pieces, throwaway facts, assumptions made and rejected, it was like she'd interviewed Hawkmoth herself. If the Akuma victims remembered what they did while Akumatized, she might have had a plausible explanation, but they didn't. So when had she talked to Hawkmoth?

When they were kids? But then, if that were the case, there wouldn't be any SFR's. That simple listing, a reversal of previous rejections because the reasoning failed. If all Chloe had to go on was one conversation from that long ago, then she'd accept all the rejections she made as final, but she didn't. Somehow, she was being fed new information on Hawkmoth.

How?

Marinette didn't know.

"Eat your carrots." Living Lightning flashed in front of her, blasting her back with the sickening sizzle of toasted flesh. "Go to bed." Another bolt, Ladybug just managed to slip off the roof to avoid, landing roughly onto an alleyway fire escape as she tried to force her heart to keep beating.

The Akuma looked over the edge of the roof and Ladybug felt her eyes widen at her circumstance, the metal cage of the ironically named escape she'd fallen into.

"Lights out," it whispered, flashing brighter with a deadly charge.

A fleck of rusty metal moved in the corner of her vision. She saw that even before she felt air beneath her, and the stomach churning nausea of a sudden fall.

Leather against her head, tackling her out of the air was a familiar feeling. Even if this time Chat Noir was holding onto her tighter than normal. "Thanks, Ch-" the word froze in her mouth, perfect dread calcifying the praise to come.

It was leather against her, just as it was undeniably Cataclysm that destroyed the escape. But this was not Chat Noir. Twin slits of feline blue eyes stared down at her from behind a flat black mask, the only ornament to it the rigid spikes on top as ears.

Ladybug twisted out of her grip, landing roughly on the icy sidewalk in enough time to catch her savior's graceful landing on top of a streetlight. "Catspaw," she snarled.

"Me."

"What are you doing here? I thought..." Marinette's expression hardened. "There's already an Akuma, which means you aren't one. Tell me where Chat Noir is right now, give back his Miraculous, and I won't hurt you."

"I have a counteroffer," Catspaw said. "Living Lightning's family rents an apartment a quarter of a block that way." Her hand lifted up to point down the street to her right. "Help me take her down and they won't die."

There was a moment Ladybug wanted to refuse.

She was powerful, she was experienced, she could dictate the terms of nearly any interaction put to her. She could.

But not while keeping innocents safe. Not at the same time.

If she had a choice, it wouldn't have been so bad, but to Marinette it was never really a choice. "Fine," she spat. "But at least tell me, is Chat Noir okay?"

"I don't know why you'd possibly trust my answer on that." Catspaw tilted her head. "But for what it's worth, he's alive and well."

Ladybug nodded, a bit surprised to realize, "I believe you."

The ring on Catspaw's finger beeped, one piece of the paw fading away.

"You used Cataclysm, already. Take a minute to detransform and re-" Ladybug began, only to get cut off.

"No."

Ladybug blinked. "No?"

"Four minutes is more than enough time." Catspaw jumped from the streetlight to the roof, a streak of black in the fading light Ladybug raced to keep up with. "Elise Tonnerre, her family moved here from Giverny a few years ago. Likes dinosaurs and soft cheese. Her mother and older brother have been Akumatized once, both messy affairs that have left her with an intense dislike of the dark."

"Lights out," Ladybug echoed the words it had said to her before. "So most likely, she had a nightlight, something happened to it, she got upset and Akumatized. If we can find the nightlight, that's gotta be the Akumatized object..." her eyes narrowed at Catspaw. "But how do you know so much about the victim?"

Catspaw chuckled. "You want me to say I'm the mother?"

Ladybug stumbled, almost losing her footing off the roof in surprise. "What?"

"Her family flagged me down while I was on my way to you. Told me everything I needed to know."

"Like the victim's fondness for soft cheese?" Ladybug asked, deadpan.

"I don't feed monsters, but she hates the dark." Ladybug shuddered at the smile behind her featureless mask, obvious through the words alone. "Why don't we bring her some?"

The lights in buildings, windows, on the street, even the tiniest vestige of the setting sun were all easily visible at that point. But even if it wasn't, Living Lightning emitted enough brightness by itself to consider trapping it in a dark room or something of the like. It wasn't a bad idea, if a little mean spirited to use a little girl's fears against her like that, but at the end of the day, Akumas weren't the people they possessed.

She'd forget it all anyway.

What they needed was a way to trap it in the dark, where not even its own brightness could help it.

"Lucky Charm." Ladybug threw her yoyo into the air, ladybugs swarming out of it to create a silver bucket that dropped into her hands. "Too reflective..." she muttered. Even getting close enough to put the bucket on its head would be difficult, but unless they could coat the inside with something else, the bucket wouldn't work for that.

The Akuma loomed ahead, scarring the street where it crossed, destroying cars and store windows as citizens fled the scene. A man struggled with the door to a hardware store as the dangerous electrical Akuma crept closer, his actions growing more panicked and frenzied with every step. It took Ladybug only a moment to deviate from her course to take him out of the line of fire, but Catspaw had already moved, crashing through the glass display window and allowing him the chance to climb inside and out of sight.

It wasn't quite as elegant a solution as Ladybug would have chosen, but there was something to be said for not wasting any time.

It was Catspaw emerging from the store with a small blue-topped can that set Ladybug's mind clicking into overdrive. "A can of spray paint," she smiled at the simple solution. "You can spray the inside of the bucket until it isn't reflective, then we can hang the bucket from that pole, drop it on the Akuma when it gets close, and grab the nightlight while it's distracted."

Catspaw tilted her head. "This isn't spray paint." She popped the top off as Living Lightning drew closer. "It's oven cleaner."

There was something Living Lightning was going to say, Ladybug was sure of it. Some phrase on the tip of her tongue, a taunt, a demand for the two heroes' Miraculouses, or maybe just the latest gripe she had against the adult population, any of those were possible, or it could have been something else entirely, she didn't know. Whatever it was never reached her voice.

Catspaw sprayed the can of oven cleaner directly into two wide-open child eyes.

It had happened to Marinette once, when she was very young. Eager to help her parents out in the early days of their bakery during a particularly rough patch, she had climbed into the oven with a similar can and about halfway through the cleaning process faced it the wrong way, catching half a spritz in her eyes.

That feeling, of the acidically charged chemicals turning the water in her eyes to soap, eating away at such a delicately focused bundle of nerves with the same obedience it did a tough bit of burnt pastry stuck with her long after the accident had been corrected.

It was a mistake of complacency. She'd always checked the end when the job had started, but as the cleaning went smoothly her attention had relaxed and she thought of other things.

This, too, was a mistake of complacency.

Living Lightning screamed.

Electricity arced from the girl, scorching lines on the ground and showering sparks from exploding lights around the street. Bulbs shattered, cars fried, against the deadly current.

Ladybug took cover.

Catspaw did not.

She dived toward the Akuma, lightning spearing through her almost instantly, and Catspaw staggered back, bloody vomit caught by her mask dripping down her chin in an unsteady stream. Her ring beeped again, one pad remaining. "Three minutes." There was the smile again, unnervingly present in her voice. "Good enough."

She tipped backwards, landing on the rough pavement, motionless. There was a loosening in her single clenched hand as she fell, a small object flying out from it, bouncing on the ground, and landing in front of Ladybug.

It was a small, lightning bolt shaped, nightlight.

Ladybug did pick up the possessed object, and she did break it in half. She cleansed the Akuma and reversed all the damage with her Ladybug cure.

But all of it, every thing she did, was autopilot.

It wasn't just that Catspaw hadn't flinched to throw herself at lethal electrocution for the chance at ending the threat. Chat Noir had quickly learned an absolute trust in Ladybug, and he'd more than once put himself into harm's way to protect her. That wasn’t it. It was also how casually she'd blinded the Akuma, subjected her to so much pain without even a word of warning.

Ladybug had grown too used to Chat, to always being on the same general wavelength, even when their ideas differed. It was a fact she'd lost track of, despite its obvious nature, that Catspaw was not Chat Noir.

"Are you alright?" She held out a hand to her recovering temporary partner that Catspaw thankfully took, rising to her feet. "You did a good job, but... Chat Noir. Tell me what you know."

"Thirty seconds." Catspaw showed her the ring. "I never understood your insistence on keeping your and Chat Noir's identity from each other, so it's up to you. Should I answer your questioning and detransform in the street, or dash off until the next time you see me?"

Ladybug hesitated, her own earrings giving a warning beep as Catspaw stared at her through the holes in her mask.

"Go." Ladybug closed her eyes. "Just go."

By the time she opened them again, Catspaw was gone.

"I think this belongs to you." She crouched down next to the little girl, holding out her nightlight.

The little girl took it, tearing up. "Louis says I'm too old for it now."

Ladybug suppressed a laugh at the thought this tiny wisp of a girl was 'too old' for anything. "Who's Louis, your brother?"

She nodded.

"Well you can tell Louis if he bugs you about it again, that Ladybug said it was alright." She gently wiped a tear from the girl's eyes. "Okay?"

"Okay." She nodded again, as Ladybug's earrings gave another beep in warning.

"You see your mom?" Ladybug stood up, counting seconds in her head. At the girl's assent, she sent her to her, and with a quick, "bug out," slung her yoyo around a chimney and leapt away.

It had been some time since Ladybug's timer had forced her to detransform, usually even if she cut it close it was simple enough to duck into an out of the way location. This time, she still made it out of sight, but only after swinging around the city, head spinning with so many conflicting thoughts and feelings it felt like she was going to throw up.

The time beeped its last and Ladybug's transformation finally fell, the lack of power making no dent on her momentum as she skinned her knees on some abandoned rooftop somewhere, wedged between a coffeeshop and a tailor.

Then she did throw up.

"What's wrong, Marinette?" Tikki asked, floating up to meet her gaze. "Did you defeat the Akuma?"

"Yeah, we..." she wiped her mouth with a hand, grimacing down at the bile sinking into the stone as her mind kept spinning with nauseating irregularity. "We got the Akuma. I’m okay.”

Tikki frowned. "That's good, but, you don't seem... okay...."

“I”m okay.” Marinette took another step, memories of Catspaw’s corpse, of the stench of burnt flesh filling her mind as her stomach gave a treacherous pull. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Marinette.” Tikki said, softly. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Marinette gave a strangled sound, muffling it only halfway through. "Fine, alright? I'm not okay." Her stomach gave another sickening turn. "Why would I be okay? It's twenty below in the middle of the week and I was almost electrocuted to death by a child. I've been doing this so long I can recognize Paris better from the roofs than the streets and still it feels like every day is my first day. I'm... I can't... erg."

She stalked the length of the roof and back, pacing with one hand swinging to the side and the other clutching her twisting guts. "I want to scream, Tikki. I want to scream until Hawkmoth notices, and when he sends an Akuma I want to tear its damn wings off."

Tikki's eyebrows furrowed deeper. "Chat Noir, did he-"

"Chat Noir wasn't there." Marinette gave a shaky sigh, scratching the side of her head like it would knock something loose. "Catspaw was. We got the Akuma, and she says he's safe, but... I have no idea what happened to him. Who she is, what's going on, I don't..."

The fight seemed to leave her then, drained like blood from an open wound. Seeing her, shivering in the wind, sickly and pale, Tikki felt an unbearable pity for the girl.

"I don't know."

She fell, slumping against a chimney, eyes sliding shut. "I'm tired, Tikki. I'm tired, and confused, and I don't know what to do."

Tikki hesitated, not quite sure how to respond before finally landing on, "what do you want to do?"

She threw a hand up, letting it flop down again. "This used to be so simple, you know? Me and Chat against Hawkmoth. Then there was the Guardian, and all the new Miraculous with the new users, then Mayura was a thing, then I became the Guardian, and I had to stop handing out the Miraculous to the new users, then eventually we thought Mayura was gone, and for a while it was just me and Chat against Hawkmoth again, but then she came back and now this? I'd be okay with things changing if it felt like I was actually moving forward, but this doesn't feel like that. It just feels like more work." She sighed. "More pain."

"Marinette..." Tikki flew closer, laying her winglike appendage on her cheek, comfortingly.

"She sprayed oven cleaner in a kid's face, Tikki." Marinette shook her head. "She was just a kid..." her throat burned, tears streaking down before she could force them back. "We were just kids..."

"I'm sorry, Marinette." Tikki hugged her, as close as she could. "I'm so, so, sorry."

"Guh." She ran her sleeves over her eyes, roughly, forcing Tikki away with the action. "I don't want to cry about this."

Tikki tilted her head, curiously. "Why not?"

"Because it won't help." She made it shakily to her feet. "I'm not gonna quit, and everything else is outside my control. I just have to..." her palms almost bled with how hard her fingernails were digging into them. "Deal with it."

"Is this dealing with it?" Tikki asked, a careful gentleness to her tone, like Marinette was made of glass.

Marinette wiped a hand down her face, sighing. She could still taste bile in her throat, on her tongue, that only made her stomach curl further. "What would you have me do?"

"Talk to someone," Tikki said, to start. "Not about being Ladybug, not before you're ready. But you have friends, Marinette. They'll want to help, if they can."

"Nobody wants to hear me whinge and complain for hours about all the problems in my dream job and wonderful family having life," Marinette huffed. "Not even my friends."

"You'd do it for them," Tikki offered.

"Yeah, well." She took grip on a sturdy seeming drainpipe, testing it for a moment before using it to slide to the ground. "There's a lot of things I do that I wouldn't wish on my friends."

The road was empty as she walked down it, hugging her coat tighter while some niggling thought poked at Tikki's brain.

"Marinette?" She asked, suddenly. "When was the last time you ate?"

Marinette shrugged. "I don't know. Lunch, I guess."

Tikki shook her head. "You worked through lunch. There was that problem with the interns, remember?"

"That was... today." Marinette groaned. "So I skipped breakfast to work on the files at Chloe's place, then lunch because of that whole debacle, the Akuma happened, and now it's... late."

"You missed dinner last night, too," Tikki pointed out. "Too tired, remember?"

"I do now."

"You're starving and exhausted, and it's making everything seem so much worse." Tikki floated in front of her, making her stop. "Eat something. Talk to someone. It will help."

"I..." Tikki's gaze never wavered, and finally Marinette gave in. "I will. Thanks, Tikki."

Tikki gave a sigh of relief that Marinette would actually listen to reason. She'd had a handful of particularly stubborn holders in the past that ignored her advice and worked themselves into oblivion. The spirit of creation was not always kind to the creators themselves. That kindness had to come from within.

Marinette leaned against a wall, slightly damp from leftover snow, and pulled out her phone to flick through the contacts. "Don't know who wouldn't have eaten dinner by now, but it's worth a-"

Her thumb stopped over Chloe's picture.

They were friends now. Right?

Of course they were. Chloe wasn't quite as... simple, as some of her friendships were, but Marinette was reasonably sure they'd gotten to that point by now. If they weren't at the kind of relationship level where she could ask to keep her company for an hour, then that'd be better to find out sooner rather than later, so it made sense to call either way.

What if she'd already eaten?

Marinette bit her lip, almost scrolling down again, but ultimately clicking into it, letting the phone ring.

If she already ate, then maybe she'd still want dessert.

It took four rings, with every second spent waiting feeling like it drilled holes in her sides. Still, Marinette didn't hang up the phone.

"Hello?" Chloe answered, her voice followed almost immediately by the loud and incredibly concerning sound of shattering glass.

Marinette pressed off the wall, walking again. "Jesus, Chloe, are you okay? What was that?"

"Thankfully, a narrowly avoided mistake." She could practically feel Chloe's lips curl in disgust, though this time it didn't seem directed at her. "Good timing on the call; now I can't claim nothing lucky happened to me today."

"Oh..." Marinette's eyebrows were still furrowed. "Thanks?"

Even when Chloe was lucky, she somehow made it sound like a bad thing.

"Dupain-Cheng?" Chloe's voice shook Marinette out of the thought and she realized she'd missed whatever she'd just said.

"What?" She scratched the back of her neck, a bit embarrassed. "I didn't catch that last part?"

"I asked why you called." The roll of her eyes was obvious. "I already know I'm not a dream to talk to over the phone, so you must have had a reason for calling, what is it?"

"I-" Marinette paused in her explanation, shaking her head as she processed the words. "Who says you're not a dream to talk to over the phone?"

"Do you think I am?" Chloe asked back.

"I don't know, I think you're fine to talk to over the phone." Marinette shrugged. "I haven't really given it a lot of thought, but I don't think it's ever been a problem."

"Hmm," she mumbled, considering. "Good to know."

"Who said you weren't?" Marinette asked.

"My mother, of course."

She said it like it meant nothing.

An impersonal cruelty, like a crime statistic read off a page. It happened to someone else, the person who said it was someone else, it didn't mean anything, it didn't matter. But it did matter. Even if it didn't matter to Chloe, it mattered to Marinette.

"I'm-" Marinette didn't say sorry, that word was thrown out right away. She was sorry, and for a moment she wanted to say it, but she already knew Chloe wouldn't appreciate it. "Going out to eat. I was wondering if you-did you? Eat, I mean, or dessert. With me, where I'm going. Which is, I don't know."

Marinette cringed, hard, at herself.

"I have a meeting," Chloe said, placidly.

"Ah." Marinette sagged. "Right."

"But I was planning on missing it anyway, so eating isn't a bad idea." She hummed for a moment. "The restaurant in Le Grand Paris, meet me there."

Marinette blinked. "Oh, I don't know if I can afford-" Chloe disconnected. "That..." she finished, lamely. "Okay, sure. Good talking to you, Chloe. No you hang up first." She tucked her phone in her coat pocket, eyes rolling. "Rude."

Still, Marinette couldn't help but feel her steps grow a little lighter as she walked towards the towering hotel. Chloe wasn't always the most thoughtful of conversation partners, but she was missing a meeting to be with her, so it's not like she didn't care.

Trust her friends, work hard, then everything would work out. Marinette could do that, easy.

"Huh," she said as she walked, some uncorralled thought poking the back of her brain.

Tikki slipped back into her purse, opening it just enough to speak. "What is it, Marinette?"

She waved a hand. "It's nothing, just, what kind of meeting do you think Chloe was planning on going to this late?"

Tikki opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I don't know, Marinette.

"I really don't know."

Chapter Text

Alya's knowledge of Kagami started and ended at the most cursory of high school interactions. She was, at most important, her best friend's romantic rival, but more often than not fell into friend of Adrien's and, she supposed, of Marinette as well, though the details on that weren't something she was ever made particularly privy to.

Kagami fenced, her family was rich, her mother was strict, and any interactions she had with the girl directly left her with the impression she was either intense or odd, without much in between.

The Kagami that spoke to her at Adrien's going away party was a slightly different scenario, and really the only reason Alya considered calling her at all. That Kagami was relaxed, witty, maybe even a bit more familiar than she should have been, given their lack of history, but Alya weirdly liked that, too.

So why not take a chance on getting to know her again and maybe making a new friend this time?

"Whoah."

That's what Alya's original plan was, anyway.

Kagami was wearing a slim red dress, her hair in the neatest bun she had ever seen, and Alya got the immediate impression there wasn't an establishment in the world she would have felt overdressed for, far from it, everywhere she went should have made everyone else feel underdressed. Alya knew she certainly did.

"I apologize, I made us reservations without asking." She checked her phone, a Tsurugi model Alya suspected wasn't even released to the public yet. "But I've been stuck in these work engagements all day without more to go on than cheese on toothpicks, and I was beginning to worry if I didn't eat an actual meal soon I'd begin assaulting servers at the kitchen door."

It was the kind of thing the younger Kagami would have said, her deadpan thick enough it was hard to tell if she were joking or not. As it was, the element of truth to it was present, but the amusement was too.

"That's... all good," Alya managed when her brain circuits reconnected. "Where are we headed?"

"Just down the road; I know a place." She bobbed her head in the direction, smiling. "Do you like fish?"

"I love fish." Alya fell into step beside her as they walked. "What were the work things about?"

"Honestly? About five hours too long," she griped, idly. "Tsurugi Corp has a conference twice a year for the shareholders so new talent can demonstrate some designs or inventions, and as the company's heir apparent, my mother insists I make a good show to keep their confidence."

"Ahh," Alya nodded. "So the dress..."

"Is from the event, yes." Kagami grinned, slyly. "Does it not inspire confidence?"

Alya's eyes widened. "Yeah," she managed after a moment. "Yup, feeling the confidence."

Kagami chuckled, finding what must have been the restaurant, though that was a little difficult to tell considering it lacked any signs or markings denoting it as such, and holding the door open for her.

If she were being honest, when Kagami asked if she liked fish, Alya had assumed they'd be eating sushi, but when she walked in and was almost blasted back by the heat at such a contrast to Paris' icy streets, when her nose burned with familiar spices, and looked around at the decidedly non-Japanese aesthetic of the restaurant, she could with some certainty confirm: not sushi.

"Tsurugi, party of two?" She said to the hostess at the front, who nodded, almost instantly in response.

"Yes, we've been expecting you. Right this way, mademoiselle." The hostess gave a quick glance over to Alya before turning and walking briskly deeper into the restaurant, past the bar, and a number of lively patrons despite the place's seeming lack of advertisement.

"Occasionally I use different names," Kagami whispered to her, a little sheepishly. "Although," a smile quirked up the ends of her face, "for some reason, the service is never quite as good as when I don't."

Alya snorted a laugh at that. "I bet."

They were directed to a quiet booth in the back, water brought immediately, but otherwise left to peruse the menus.

"I didn't know there was a creole place out here," Alya observed, eyes scanning the menu at some dishes her mother had cooked a hundred times, while others she'd only had once or twice. "How'd you find it?"

"The conference planner researches all the viable lunch and dinner spots in the months leading up to the event. I've eaten here once before on her suggestion, but if you ask how she knows about it, I'd have to say I have no idea." She shrugged. "My best bet is underworld connections."

"See, that's actually a good thing because crawfish that isn't underworld just doesn't taste the same." Kagami laughed at the joke and Alya couldn't help her grin widening at the sound. It was high pitched, and sharp, like it had been surprised out of her. She'd been called an ambush journalist before, but she had to admit, if she could hear it again, ambush comedian might not have been so bad.

"Should we order wine?" Kagami asked, and Alya felt herself relax in her chair.

"Yeah." She felt her neck prickle with heat up to her ears. "I think we should."

(:*:)

"Your hands are shaking." Plagg's observations, for as blunt and obvious as they were, were also unappreciated for how difficult they were to avoid. Chloe had grown up able to dismiss anyone she ever wanted to, up to and including her own father. Her patients came to talk about themselves, as she preferred, and even Alix she could simply walk away from.

But Plagg was always there. While she worked, while she slept, while she walked down the street, she couldn't escape him. Not without doing something truly stupid, anyway.

"It's cold." She said, impassively. "Humans do this thing called 'shivering' in the cold."

"I know what shivering is, and I know this ain't it." He stuck his tongue out at her, the action obvious from the sound even from within her jacket. After a handful of moments, his tone dropped softer. "You ready to talk about what happened with the Akuma?"

"Of the two of us, wouldn't I be the expert on what would and wouldn't help to talk about?" She asked aloud, not sparing a glance to anyone seeing her apparently talking to herself. It was likely anyone who even noticed would imagine a bluetooth being in her ear, anyway, so it hardly mattered.

"You say that like I've never had a holder who's a therapist before." He poked her chest under the jacket. "I've been around much longer than you have; comparing knowledge isn't a game you want to play with me."

"He said, in an effort to secure knowledge I have that he wants," she answered, flatly.

"I don't care about the knowledge, I don't care about what actually happened," he pushed against her again. "I care that it's messing you up."

She clicked her teeth, impatiently. "It's not messing me up. I'm handling it."

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

Chloe stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets.

"Why do I always get the most stubborn holders on the planet?" Plagg groaned.

"Maybe it's you," she grunted, walking faster like that could actually escape him. The sentiment was true for too many things in her life at that moment.

He pushed against her again, making her annoyance spike before she wrestled it down once more. "Are you going to talk about what happened to Marinette?"

"I can't imagine a more pointless exercise." Her eyes flicked down to him. "Why would I do that?"

His tone went flat. "You know, humans do this thing called 'talking to people' when they're upset."

She exhaled, sharply, in a near-laugh. "Touché."

The hotel had a revolving door at the front, wide enough, with three dividers to allow entrance including baggage carts. At most times of the day and some at night, it was in use as hotel patrons walked in and out, permanently or temporarily to get wherever they were going. At that time of the day, it was the same, though the nature of the door allowed quick entrance with a minimal wait despite the flow of personage.

Chloe took the employee push door off to the side.

"Ah, Doctor Bourgeois, we... weren't expecting you." Alarmed wasn't an expression Chloe got to see every day anymore, her work in the office attempted to cultivate more positive ones, but there were a few places she decided the effort spent reversing damage she'd done to her reputation in childhood was too high to be economical. "Do you want me to call Mademoiselle Gestion and arrange a meeting? She should be able to get out of whatever she's doing today-"

Chloe waved a hand. "That won't be necessary. Find me a table for two at the restaurant. I'll be dining there today."

"For two?" The front desk girl asked.

Chloe raised an eyebrow.

"Of course." She bowed her head. "I'll get it ready right away, mademoiselle."

"Couldn't have thrown a 'please' in there?" Plagg asked.

Chloe clicked her teeth, sighing. "Could have; forgot to."

Plagg blinked, taken aback by the honest admission. "Oh... well. I guess, try to remember next time?"

She smirked. "Are you my conscience now? I thought you were a cat, not a cricket."

"Oh please," Plagg preened. "I am the cat all other cats wish they were."

"Whatever you say," she chuckled. "Little cricket."

"No, no. That is not the cute nickname we're going with-" Plagg's blustering rant was interrupted courtesy of the front desk girl returning and ushering them to a table in a more discrete corner of the restaurant.

"...am a cat Kwami, a god-spirit of destruction. I could bury Paris in an instant. I am not some lowly insect. Cats hunt bugs, I can pluck crickets mid jump, you have no idea the power I..."

Chloe rolled her eyes, relegating Plagg's ongoing mutterings to only half an ear as she turned her attention back to Hawkmoth. Her latest batch of prospects had a few easy tests, but some of them would be much more difficult to rule out. It was possible she'd need to wait for an Akuma-

Her chest burned, hot enough to make her gasp with remembered pain, of lightning spearing through her. Of death.

"Stupid."

Her hands shook, ever so slightly, responding to fear Chloe refused to feel.

"What?" Plagg asked.

"Nothing." Chloe tucked her hands under the table. "My body is just being stupid."

Whatever Plagg's response to that was going to be, it was swallowed by the server's sudden, brisk, approach, standing easily within an arm's length, so Chloe assumed she must be a new hire, and possibly new to Paris altogether. "Would you like to see the wine menu?"

She was so cheery.

Chloe just sighed.

(:*:)

Marinette was overthinking things. She knew she was, she could feel it, this bad habit she'd somehow never let go of. Why did she have to put every interaction she had under a lens, judging if she said the right thing or if her inflection was right, if she embarrassed herself, if everyone secretly hated her, why?

She knew they didn't, she knew it was irrational, and she could push away any thoughts that said otherwise with relative ease, but even when she could do that, the overthinking never stopped.

Like a car rolling down the street without passengers, take out all the anxiety she had and the strict microscopic examination of actions and thoughts still wouldn't end.

Smashing glass.

Lucky.

'My mother, of course.'

Meeting.

Le Grand Paris.

Pieces of Chloe arranging and rearranging themselves, sticking together, clumping up with other thoughts and feelings that had gone through the same introspection.

"I think if it were a little colder, I'd see steam coming out of your ears," Tikki commented.

"Feels cold enough it should have already happened," Marinette bantered back, smiling lightly. "Sorry, Tikki, I'm just still trying to figure out Chloe."

"Starting to sound like a longterm project," she noted. "Are you really sure it's worth it?"

Marinette shook her head. "I don't think 'worth it' comes into things at all. It's... there, right in front of me. I can't just pretend I don't care."

"Well, you don't have to." Tikki poked out of the purse, brushing her head encouragingly against Marinette's arm. "I'm checking to make sure you've given it some thought, that's all."

"Tikki." Marinette chuckled, dryly. "I can guarantee I've given it pretty much nothing but thought."

The Le Grand Paris hotel loomed in front of her, as imposing in her adulthood as it ever was when she was young. Knowing that Chloe was in there slowed her footsteps with hesitation in the same way, too, though for slightly different reasons this time.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed forward through the revolving doors, hot air blasting between her ears courtesy of the hotel's overexuberant heating system.

"Can I help you?" The girl at the front desk asked, pleasantly enough, if a little on edge for some reason.

Marinette tried to give her a reassuring smile as she stepped forward, a bit of Ladybug coming to the fore to put her at ease. "Yes, I'm here to eat with someone at the restaurant, but I don't think we have a reservation..."

She gave an apologetic smile. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you, we are fully booked until the end of the night and usually a few days in advance as well. If you'd like, I could make a reservation with you now for the next available space?"

"Oh, that's alright," Marinette waved her hands. "Chloe and I will figure something else out."

Her hands froze, fingers hanging above the computer keys. "Would this be Chloe... Bourgeois?"

"Yes?" Marinette said. "Did we have a reservation after all?"

"Right this way, mademoiselle." She stepped away from the desk, posture twice as stiff as before and lead her into the restaurant.

They passed tables and tables of well-dressed clientele, which Marinette might have felt self-conscious by if she wasn't required by her job to wear something at least semi-fashionable on any day she planned on leaving the house.

As it was, she just mildly judged some of the designers the other diners chose to wear.

"Your table's right over there. May I take your coat?" She offered, and Marinette passed it off, a little awkwardly. She didn't particularly want to give it up, but at the same time, she didn't want to deal with it at the table, either.

By the time she walked over and sat down at the table across from Chloe, the girl with her coat had long disappeared.

"So..." she said, partly to announce herself since Chloe hadn't looked up from whatever she was typing on her phone since she sat down. "I guess you've still got some pull here from when your dad was in charge, seeing as I don't think you had a reservation three days out."

"Something like that," Chloe grunted, typing for another few moments before finally putting her phone down on the table, looking Marinette up and down with an eyebrow slowly raising. "Well it looks like you've had a long day, Dupain-Cheng."

"I think normally I'd say, 'longer than you can imagine'." Marinette wrapped her hands around the glass of water on her side of the table, not drinking, just needing something for her hands to do. "But it kinda looks like you've had a long day, too."

Chloe cracked a dry smile, makeup not quite enough to hide deep bags below her eyes. "Today was a bad day." She looked down, at her own hands beneath the table. "Tomorrow... will be better."

"That's pretty optimistic of you," Marinette noted.

"If I didn't believe things could get better, I'd never have become a therapist." She considered for a moment. "Actually, I'd probably never get out of bed."

"I wish..." Marinette covered her eyes with a hand, sighing. "I want to be optimistic; I try really hard, but some days it feels... I dunno."

"Like you're a day older, and not a step closer to what you want?" Chloe asked.

"It's such a waste." Marinette's teeth clenched. "When did it start feeling like I waste so much of my life?"

"You ever wonder if you could dust the world for fingerprints, what you'd find?"

Marinette blinked, thrown by the apparent non-sequitur for a moment before answering. "I guess you'd find a lot of fingerprints." She looked distastefully at the table they were sitting at. "People touch everything."

"Not physical fingerprints," she clarified. "People fingerprints, like interactions, the effects people have on other people based on what they do. What do you think you'd have if you could dust for that?"

Marinette thought for a moment, picking up her water and sipping at it, pensively. "In that case... Hawkmoth's fingerprints would be all over."

"True." She nodded. "And Ladybug's and Chat Noirs, there are more than a few they've helped and no small amount Hawkmoth's hurt, and that extends far beyond individual Akumatizations. I've talked to people who have taken everything from relaxation techniques to a love of Rube Goldberg Machines from the heroes, and I suspect that inspiration helps more people than just the ones they save directly."

Marinette paused, running through the words in her head. "Uhuh... you really think so?"

"I do." She nodded. "And you, Dupain-Cheng, are the same way: helping people, idle niceties, keeping a cool head in bad situations that inspires others to do the same." Her face twisted into a grimace. "Habits I personally found incredibly annoying in school, but... I appreciate them more, now."

Marinette felt her ears heat and stomach twist a little at the phrase, and she broke eye contact with Chloe to stare down at her glass again. "If you don't mind me asking, what changed?"

Chloe's shoulders sagged, visibly. "I-"

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress asked, nearly startling Marinette out of her chair.

"Yes." Chloe recovered first, flipping the menu open. "Steak, medium rare, but cook the potatoes well."

"Uh," Marinette scrambled for the menu. "The lamb, I guess, is fine."

The waitress nodded, taking their menus and leaving as quickly as she'd come. When she'd moved a fair distance away, Marinette turned back to Chloe expectantly.

"I grew up, Marinette," she sighed. "That's all."

Liar.

"I don't like wasting time." Chloe hissed a breath out of the side of her mouth. "That's an understatement, actually, I despise wasting time. But I've seen your fingerprints on too many people coming into the office to believe you're doing that."

"I used to help more people," Marinette muttered. "Now it's just work and home, cooking and cleaning and shopping... going to your place, doing things with you, is the most social I've been in a while."

Chloe nodded. "That's very sad."

Marinette choked, spraying the water she'd been drinking all over herself, laughing as she wiped herself down with napkins.

"I am a terrible, terrible, social partner, you should seek out a better one," Chloe continued.

"Is this your mom again?" Marinette kept her smile up, ignoring the thought of that making her heart clench. "Chloe you're fine. I wouldn't have called you to hang out if you weren't."

Chloe tilted her head, expression blank. "I assumed you wanted something."

This time, she couldn't keep her smile.

"Chloe... no." She shook her head. "Just you."

"Oh." She seemed to consider that for a moment before her eyes narrowed. "You... have terrible taste."

Marinette smiled, surprising herself by the fact it wasn't forced at all. "I think I can live with that."

She watched Chloe's confused expression with a touch of humor and eventually the waitress returned with their dishes. For a moment, Marinette considered asking for the wine list, since the table just had water, but considering the cheapest wine in the place probably cost more than a month's groceries and there were only half odds Chloe would be paying for anything, she decided to let it slide.

As she bit into the lamb, all thoughts of how expensive the menu was, vanished, however. It was truly an exquisite treat, cost effective or otherwise.

"Tch," Chloe clicked her teeth as she cut into her steak. "Coward."

"Coward?" Marinette echoed.

"The chef." She turned her steak out so Marinette could see. "I'd be generous to call this medium done, which means he's either incompetent at paying attention to orders, or he's afraid of serving me undercooked steak."

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "And you're going with afraid?"

"Well I know he's not completely incompetent." She rolled her eyes. "The hotel wouldn't have hired him if he was. Still..." she kept cutting, eating the steak with a slightly resigned expression. "I do miss Césaire, in times like this. Her daughter could be a nosy busybody, but she wasn't a coward."

"I think that's a family trait," Marinette said, amusedly, thinking of Alya's siblings. "The lack of cowardice, I mean, not the busybody thing. Reckless, maybe. Fearless? Definitely." She gestured to the plate Chloe was currently eating off of. "Are you not going to send it back?"

"My disappointment is mild and the restaurant is packed." She shook her head. "It'd take ages for the right one to get to me and in that time I'd rather just eat."

"I'd probably just not want to be a bother," Marinette admitted.

"That's nonsense," Chloe said, emphatically. "If you expect competence at the top of your own field, why not expect it at the top of another? These people have trained too hard and are paid too much for a simple request to be a 'bother'."

"I..." Marinette's mouth closed with a snap. "Huh. I never thought about it like that before."

She wasn't sure she fully agreed, but the new perspective was interesting at least.

Marinette chewed thoughtfully on some more of her lamb, trying to do it slowly, both to savor and avoid upsetting her previously exceptionally empty stomach.

Chloe's phone vibrated on the table, and she glanced over for a moment before returning to her meal.

It vibrated again.

"Are you going to answer that?" Marinette asked.

Chloe considered for a moment. "No."

"Any particular reason why?" Looking over, Marinette couldn't make out the name on the call, but there wasn't any picture attached to it, so it could have just been spam.

She frowned, glancing over at the still ringing phone. "I've already gone through the conversation in my head and found it... unproductive."

"I'll have to use that one," Marinette tossed back, sardonically. "This someone from your work?" Or someone like Sushil? She didn't say.

"No one from Honeycomb would be calling outside an emergency." She kept eating, dutifully ignoring the phone which eventually stopped ringing.

Until it started ringing again.

"Do... you want me to answer it?" Marinette offered after a moment.

Chloe considered that too. "No." She picked up the phone, flicking it open and holding it to her ear. "What."

A voice on the other end spoke, too quiet to pick out the words from the other end of the table, and since Chloe seemed unlikely to put it on speakerphone, Marinette resigned herself to hearing half the conversation.

"I went out to eat," Chloe answered, impassively, hearing another response. "With Marinette, why?" Another. "No, I haven't."

The person on the other end said something and Chloe didn't answer for a long time, phone still held up to her ear.

"I... was close," she said eventually, the admission of whatever she was taking about sounding like she'd rather chew on razorblades than say it aloud. "I got lucky." Her eyes flicked to Marinette when she said that. The voice said something else. "Yeah, no kidding."

Chloe sighed at whatever the voice said next. "That is so not necessary." Another response. "Le Grand Paris," she said with a sigh. "You don't have to-"

The person on the other end hung up.

Chloe looked down on it, flabbergasted, and Marinette attempted to stifle her laugh at the expression.

Okay, so maybe she enjoyed Chloe getting a taste of the medicine she'd given to her earlier a little too much.

"Was that conversation as productive as you thought?" Marinette asked.

"Somehow?" Chloe glared down at her phone. "Less so."

"Do you want dessert?" She gestured at Chloe's plate, empty save for some scraps. "Looks like we're both done."

"I do want dessert." She stood up and walked steadily in the direction of the exit. "Let's find some."

"Oh, I figured we'd order something here, but-" Marinette's brain caught up to what Chloe was doing. "Wait, what about paying? Shouldn't we wait for-?"

"They know where to send the bill." Chloe looked behind her, teeth showing in what could almost be a smile. "If they bother sending one at all."

Not for the first time, Marinette wondered just how much Chloe had changed since their school days. She wondered if the prickling at the back of her neck when she talked to her was fear, pity, or something else.

"Your coat, miss," the girl at the front handed to her as she walked out, not even making a mention of having to pay.

And there was some small, seldom used, selfish part of her that wondered if it really would have killed her to ask for the wine menu.

It felt like she'd need it before the night was over.

Chapter Text

Ice cream in the snow. Only Chloe would suggest a freezing dessert in already freezing weather. André's wasn't available. Not even he drove out his cart on Winter nights, and they weren't likely to find him even if he was out since the likelihood Chloe would be interested in solving riddles to find his location was practically nonexistent. For her, there really seemed to be only one riddle that mattered.

If figuring out Hawkmoth's identity was as easy as solving André's location, though, Marinette didn't think either of them would be where they were right then.

Chloe scrunched her nose as a snowflake hit it, idly biting the top of her mint chocolate chip cone.

"That's good luck, you know." Marinette licked at a bit of her butter pecan already dribbling down the side. She never got to eat it at André's, so the change of pace was nice.

"Says who?" Chloe asked, skeptically.

"People. I don't know." She shrugged. "Heard it somewhere, I think."

"How very specific," she deadpanned.

"Well I don't need the third degree." Marinette rolled her eyes. "Why ice cream?"

"And the third degree comes to me," she snarked. At Marinette's continued gaze, however, she eventually relented. "My old butler used to take me out for ice cream after I'd done a good job. Today felt like I did, so I had a craving."

Marinette nodded along, thoughtfully. "Have you ever been to André's?"

"Once." She stared at her ice cream for a moment. "He wouldn't sell one to me."

Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? Come on, Marinette, you know he's always been temperamental. All the passionate ones are."

Marinette pursed her lips. "He told you why, didn't he?"

"He just said he wouldn't serve me," Chloe said, solidly. "That's all."

Liar.

"Alright, then." Marinette scooted up next to her, handknitted scarf waving in the Winter breeze. "You want a lick?" She bent her cone in Chloe's direction.

"Of your well lubricated butter pecan?" Chloe wrinkled her nose slightly at Marinette's licked all around cone. "If I really wanted to try it, I'd go in and buy another cone."

"Were you always such a germaphobe?" Marinette asked, licking at her own cone again. "I would've thought everything like that was handled by your maids, did you even see a germ before you were eighteen?"

"Believe me, I'd seen plenty." She grimaced, biting into her ice cream again. "It only takes one trip into a filthy guest's room to watch the maids clean to become exceptionally aware of how dirty a place can be. Besides, I can't afford to get sick at the moment."

"Too much business at Honeycomb?" Marinette asked, feigning idleness to cover her intense curiosity.

Chloe side-eyed her with faint amusement at seeing through her obvious ploy. "Sure."

"It's not a crime to want to know more about you, you know," Marinette pouted, biting into her ice cream like Chloe did and immediately regretting it as a brain freeze pounded against her.

Chloe huffed, lightly, returning her attention to her cone. "What could you possibly want to know about me you don't already?"

"Chloe, I didn't know your favorite color until a little while ago," she said, disbelief peppering her tone. "I don't know loads of stuff about you."

"I doubt I'm that interesting."

"You are the most interesting person I've ever met." Her voice was serious, solid. "It's not even close."

Chloe blinked at her, eyes widened in surprise. "Huh."

"Can you tell me what you're doing?" Marinette asked, leaning against the stairs they sat on outside the ice cream parlor. "Why you can't afford to get sick now?"

She expected Chloe to blow her off again, tell another lie. At most, she hoped for something vague she wouldn't bother to explain.

"Chat Noir is gone," she said, instead. "The replacement won't be good enough to pick up the slack for long. Ladybug looks more tired by the day. If I can't find Hawkmoth's identity soon, she'll crack." The cone under Chloe's fingers broke, green minty sludge oozing out of the sides in an uncomfortable effigy. "Things are bad, Dupain-Cheng. I can't get sick now. I have to help."

There was some part of her that almost rushed to tell Chloe she was fine, the edge between Marinette and Ladybug blurring under the lie.

She wouldn't crack. Not to Hawkmoth. Once she did that, even without the Miraculous, he'd already won.

But...Chloe was so sure.

So it wasn't an assurance 'Ladybug' was fine. It wasn't some brush off or bristling that it wasn't any of Chloe's business anyway. It wasn't even confusion at her knowing for sure Chat Noir was gone when she'd only ever worked with Catspaw once that very day, that Marinette pressed into Chloe at that moment.

"What can I do?" She asked, instead. "To help?"

Chloe laughed, that same wheezy, out of use, thing. "That really is your first instinct for things, isn't it?"

Her voice was teasing, but also... sad.

She stood up, slowly, depositing her destroyed cone in the trash and the rest of her icecream with it, grimacing at the stickiness remaining on her hand. Marinette held out a napkin for her to use and something akin to exasperation flushed her face for a moment as she took it.

"Thanks," she said after a delay, dumping the napkin with the rest of it once she'd finished wiping her hands.

"You're welcome."

She didn't sit back down, tapping fingers up and down her leg, thinking, weighing. "Come with me," she said, eventually. "To a party. There are going to be more Hawkmoth candidates there. You've watched the cameras enough to know what to look for."

Marinette nodded, once. "Okay."

For a while, what felt like eternity, they just stared at each other, snow falling around them, Marinette feeling her pants soak through from the damp steps she sat on, while Chloe twitched the fingers on her still sticky hand.

Her breath came out in wisping steam, Chloe's the same in the freezing cold, she could feel her ice cream dribbling down by the heat of her hands, but she couldn't look away to stop it.

Chloe's gaze had trapped her completely. For that stretch of time, it was like she had dropped her mask entirely, and Marinette could see what was beneath.

At first, it didn't seem human at all. There was something coldly analytical to it, like she was being watched by a lizard, measuring her out piece by piece, seeing if she was a threat, if she was benign, if she could be eaten. This seemed like the part of Chloe that could so easily poke through to the heart of problems at Honeycomb, the part that showed in all the notes Marinette had read on Hawkmoth, observations, deductions, logic following invisible threads from one person to the next. It also seemed like that part was the reason she had so few friends, why she evaded or lied at every question that could have gotten to know her better, and when she was a child the part that knew just what to say to cut someone down, or get away with whatever she'd done that day.

If that was the end of Chloe, Marinette would have stopped looking, unnerved by the almost alien quality that look had, but when she looked past that, she saw something only too human.

There was frustration there, and sadness, but also an almost overwhelming hope. Marinette didn't think she'd ever seen that on a younger Chloe's face, but that must have been the why to her analysis' how. Why she was going after Hawkmoth, why she worked at Honeycomb.

'Today was a bad day,' she'd said. 'Tomorrow will be better.'

She was skeptical, and bitter, beyond anyone Marinette had ever known, but somehow, behind it all, she genuinely believed that.

Did Marinette?

There was a time she would have said yes in an instant.

Right then... it was harder.

For a moment, Marinette wanted to ask how, what made her hope so hard, trust so much that everything would be alright, but her mouth wouldn't move.

Lights, flashing red and blue behind Chloe were what finally broke the spell. She looked away, sighing when she realised what they were, and the mask slid on again like it had never slipped an inch.

Marinette looked past at the police car that had stopped on the street right outside the ice cream parlor. "Expecting someone?" She asked.

Chloe's frown deepened. "Expecting someone to take longer to find me."

The door to the police cruiser opened and Alix got out, arms spread as she walked over. "You promised, Chloe. I asked you and you promised you'd be there."

"I never promised," Chloe answered, evenly, but Alix's glare sharpened.

"You don't need to actually say the words, Chloe. You told me you would and you lied." Alix turned to Marinette, waving, but still unhappy. "Hey, Marinette. You doing alright?"

"Uh, fine." Marinette stood up, dumping the rest of her cone in the trash. "Were you part of the meeting Chloe said she skipped?"

Alix raised an eyebrow at Chloe, who shrugged wordlessly.

"You could say that," Alix hedged. "Kind of a private club, though, so sorry we can't invite you."

"Oh, I'm fine," Marinette waved her hands. "I don't want to intrude, I was just putting together that you were the one on the phone with her earlier."

Alix shook her head. "Adrien was on the phone with her earlier."

Chloe half turned, an annoyed frown quirking her lips. "He sicced her on me."

"I was already sicced on you." Alix's glare refocused on Chloe. "I've noticed how you've been lately. I knew you needed this, and then you didn't show, what am I supposed to do about that?"

"I didn't do anything," Chloe said, impassively. "There's no need to be concerned."

Alix poked her in the chest. "But you almost did, didn't you?" At seeing Marinette shift out of the corner of her eye, Alix sighed, dropping her hand. "Marinette, do you want me to drop you off somewhere? I've still got to talk about this with Chloe."

"Oh, I can get a cab or someth-" Marinette started to say, but Chloe cut her off.

"Back to her apartment, Alix." Chloe climbed into the car, slamming the door shut behind her.

Alix gritted her teeth, pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to calm down. "Chloe, I just can't with you, sometimes." She turned to walk back to the car. "Come on, Marinette. Let's get you home before the princess pitches a fit."

"Sorry for the inconvenience," Marinette said, walking with her.

"Marinette, it wouldn't be an inconvenience if you asked me to drop you off on the moon, getting you back home isn't even a thing." Alix sighed. "Sorry for interrupting your date."

Marinette cracked a smile. "It was fun, but it wasn't a date. I'm sorry Chloe bailed on what you wanted her for."

"She does it more often than you might think." Alix paused right outside the car, laying her hand on the door. "Do you... wish it was?"

Marinette tilted her head, confused. "Do I wish it was what?"

"Nevermind." She shook her head, opening up the door. "You want to ride in front or back in the lockup?"

"Uh, front, I think, would be fine." She went around and climbed gingerly into the front passenger side, arms in her lap so she didn't accidentally touch any of the police equipment.

Alix got in beside her, starting the car and easing out of the driveway and down the Parisian streets.

"Did you guys hear? Apparently there was a new Chat Noir fighting the last Akuma with Ladybug," Alix said, the car idling at a stop light. "What do you think happened to the real Chat?"

"Maybe he aged out." Chloe yawned, head up against the car window. "Started pretty young."

"Is that part of the magic?" Alix asked, driving forward with the light once again. "If there are age limits, it'd explain why they were just kids starting out, but... does that mean Ladybug's going to get replaced soon, too?"

"She won't-" Marinette started to say at the same time Chloe spoke.

"Hawkmoth's power source is the same." Marinette looked back at her, still pressed against the glass. "If he hasn't aged out, it's not the magic stopping them."

Alix's eyebrows furrowed. "Then what'd you mean when you said Chat did?"

"Fighting for years against someone you don't know without gaining much ground. There aren't many people who can take that. Eventually, he must have decided to do something else with his life."

Marinette felt her fingers close into fists, bunching up her pantlegs. "Chat wouldn't just give up like that. Something must have happened to him."

Chloe's eyes flicked to the front seat. "You'd prefer to think he's too injured to come back instead of just off doing what he wants to do?"

"I'd prefer to think he wouldn't abandon m-" she forcefully corrected herself. "Paris. Without saying a word, if he had a choice, yes."

"Then maybe he told Ladybug already that he was leaving and she just hasn't made an announcement to Paris yet." Alix shrugged, both the other passengers staring at her for a moment before looking out the window again.

"Yeah," Marinette said, dryly. "Maybe."

Alix kept driving, silence coating the vehicle, as she glided it carefully down snow soaked paths.

"How do you know Hawkmoth's power source is the same?" Marinette asked, suddenly.

Alix raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Chloe, you said Hawkmoth's power source is the same." Marinette turned her body around, clinging to the headrest so she could look at Chloe as she asked. "How did you know that?"

Chloe stared at her for a few moments. "Ladybug said so," she said, evenly. "After Stoneheart."

Marinette shook her head. "What?"

"'No matter how long it takes, we will find you, and you will give us your Miraculous,'" she quoted without inflection. "Both of them use Miraculous, according to Ladybug, so, same power source, presumably same rules."

"Jesus, Chlo, that was years ago," Alix shouted. "You still got space in there for your job and everything?"

"Enough." She shrugged, turning back to the window, and slowly Marinette faced forward again. "What did you think my answer was going to be?" She asked after another minute in silence.

"I... don't know," Marinette admitted. "You just always seem to know more about it than I'm expecting."

Chloe cracked a smile, eyes becoming half-lidded. "Don't you trust me, Marinette?"

Marinette hesitated, eyes searching Chloe's face, but finally she shook her head. "No. I guess I don't."

Her eyes widened, but after a moment she gave that wheezy laugh of hers again, laying her head against the window, a more genuine smile replacing the one she had before. "I never know... I just never know what you're going to say."

The car eased to a stop, pulling off to the side of the road. "This it?" Alix asked.

Marinette looked up to see they'd already reached her apartment building, and she jumped in surprise, quickly unbuckling. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for driving me." She opened the door. "I'll-"

Chloe caught her arm, looking at her with just a little of that hope from before sliding through her mask. "The party... you'll come?"

Marinette smiled, softly. "I wouldn't miss it."

Chloe let go, turning away again.

After waving goodbye to Alix, Marinette got out and walked up the stairs to her apartment, the police car pulling out again a few moments after. When she finally made it inside, she'd barely locked the door before sliding down it, giving a long, shaky, sigh.

Talking with Chloe always felt like a minefield. She'd try to go this way or that only for her progress to be stopped each time, carefully stepping over all the things she really wanted to ask. And if she made a mistake and stepped on the landmine, itself...

'He just wouldn't serve me. That's all.'

Marinette groaned, pressing her hands against her temples. "Stop pushing me away, already."

She'd seen the mask fall that day, found out why she was working so hard to find Hawkmoth. It felt like Chloe was floundering in deep water all by herself, and even though Alix and Adrien were trying their best, they couldn't help her where it mattered.

She needed someone to jump in the water after her.

"Are you alright, Marinette?" Tikki asked, worried.

"I'm cold, and sore, and if I don't take something for this headache, I think I'm going to die," she sighed, leaning her head back on the cool wood of the door. "Today was a bad day, Tikki, top to bottom. I hadn't eaten, I hated fighting with Catspaw, and even talking to Chloe felt more stressful than not, but..."

Tikki's eyebrows furrowed. "But?"

"Tomorrow." Marinette's eyes slid closed. "Tomorrow will be better."

Maybe, even a little, it felt easier to believe that than it had before.

(:*:)

Alya woke up slowly, gently floated from unconsciousness with a smell that was neither her bed nor the couch in her office. The awakening didn't come without a cost, however, as her gradual creep toward reality was accompanied by a harsh stabbing pain somewhere behind her eyes that only intensified as she became aware of it.

It was a regrettably familiar, if not too common, experience.

"Never. Drinking. Again." She tried opening her eyes, but shut them immediately against the too bright room.

"Okay..." she muttered to herself. "This definitely isn't my apartment."

Alya's apartment was cluttered, or could be called that if someone was being kind. Old clothes ended up on the floor more often than not, clean clothes exiled to messy piles in her bureau and closet when they weren't just shoved into a corner of her bed.

Dishes went into the sink, hurriedly cleaned when she was starting to run out, and takeout containers didn't always quite make it into the trash, the trash itself needing a jenga pile of a good height stacked up higher than most would have already taken it out.

None of these habits were damning evidence against her character or even altogether uncommon amongst her peers, but it did make it remarkably easy to distinguish her space from someone else's. By sight, by smell, by feeling, there was no question the bed she was in was not her own.

That left the reasonable question: "where am I?"

Slowly, she flipped on her stomach and opened her eyes carefully toward the pillow, enough light filtering through the fabric almost enough to make her shut them again, but her present confusion allowing her to adjust over a too long period before moving to actually look at the room.

It was... sparse, wasn't quite the right word. 'Indistinct' might have been closer. There were some items breaking up the monotonously white walls, a few trophies or medals on display, a guitar shoved into a corner like it was embarrassing, and a painting on one wall of a classic asian dragon, but beyond that, everything seemed picked clean of dirt, of personality, and ownership. If this were a vaguely themed hotel room, Alya would have felt better about it, but a rapier carefully displayed behind the medals gave a better idea who the room belonged to.

"Kagami?" Alya slipped out of bed, rubbing her aching head as she went for the door, something she had to feel around for as its white appearance and lack of indentations or handle made it almost completely flush with the wall.

What was she even doing in Kagami's house, anyway?

Alya froze.

What was she doing in Kagami's bed?

'Okay... keep me asleep.' Her own words came to her through hazy memories of the night before. She'd gone out to eat with Kagami. She'd had wine... a lot of wine and...

Her hand ghosted up to her lips. She'd kissed her, hadn't she? Then...

Her eyes dragged back to the open door behind her, Kagami's bed visible through the door with rumpled sheets.

Oh.

New priority list: find a sink to drink out of, find her phone to contact Marinette, and find Kagami.

Easy.

Of course, it would have been much easier if it didn't seem like every door in the house had that same flush with the wall design, to the point she was glad she left the door to Kagami's room open in the massive house, since several times she'd looped back in on herself entirely and that was the only indication.

"Really starting to feel like a sanitorium, at this point," she muttered to herself, running a hand along a wall in the vague hope it would eventually give way to a secret passage. The fact it actually did, really didn't help matters.

"A swimming pool?" Alya shouted, disbelievingly. "She has a swimming pool?"

"Have you been helped?" A severe voice came from behind her and Alya whipped around to see an old woman with dark glasses standing in the doorway.

Alya backed up a few steps. "Oh, uh, sorry. I was looking for... Kagami?"

"Kagami isn't here." She gestured out into the hall, clearly dismissing her from the pool area, which Alya politely vacated. "Normally, she is more particular about making sure her 'conquests' leave quickly and quietly in the morning, but I suppose the conference is causing her attention in minor matters to slip."

Alya looked down, suddenly embarrassed by everything from her hangover to her current state of undress. It didn't matter that the woman seemed to be blind, she felt her cheeks burn uncomfortably, all the same.

"Do you just know where my phone and clothes are?" Alya forced out, quietly. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

"I would check Kagami's en-suite bathroom." The woman turned away. "My daughter often hides things there she would prefer I not know about."

With that said, she walked away with quick, disciplined, strides, leaving Alya to crawl back to Kagami's room in shame.

It took another few minutes to find the en-suite bathroom, with of course the same flush to the wall design as everything else hiding it from view.

There, on the bathroom counter, were her clothes, neatly folded and smelling of unfamiliar soap, with her phone and a note on top of the pile, and a glass of water with two white pills on a small napkin beside it.

Alya eyed the glass of water thirstily, but decided to read the letter before touching anything unnecessarily, flipping it open to see sharp, precise, lettering in what could only be Kagami's hand.

'Good morning, Alya, I enjoyed our dancing last night tremendously, and can only hope you remember it enough to feel the same. I couldn't tell whether you were truly blackout or not, but either way you seemed a bit too far gone for me to be comfortable with, so don't worry, your chastity is safe from me, for the moment. (Not that I wasn't tempted).'

Alya breathed a slow sigh of relief at the letter, sitting down on the closed toilet seat and kept reading.

'I got you to drink some water last night, but I imagine it wasn't enough, so I prepared another glass with some paracetamol based pain relief beside it, which hopefully you're not allergic to. I've also had your clothes cleaned, so you won't have to reuse them.'

That was enough for Alya to down the whole glass of refreshingly cool water, with the pills beside it as well.

'If my mother finds you, I'm sure she'll say something unnecessary, so if you want to avoid her, just use the first door left of mine, it will take you straight through to the garage.'

That... could have been useful to know before.

'I'm sorry the conference prevents me from being there when you wake up. Next time, I'll be sure to fix that.

'You already know my number.

'-Kagami.'

The burning in her cheeks at that wasn't the same embarrassment as before, but she was no more prepared to deal with it.

"Alright, then." Alya picked up her phone, checking through messages before starting to redress. "No longer worried I won't have anything to talk about to Marinette at dinner."

She walked out, slinging her bag around her shoulder.

"How's that for getting out more?"

The door to the garage slammed shut behind her.

Chapter Text

Marinette worked furiously in her design studio, threads and patterns blending under fabrics and shapes, the final touches of the Winter line brimming with the life and emotion it so sorely lacked before.

She was so caught in the fervor of design, she hadn't even realised, she'd made them all Chloe in some way.

A men's jacket cut with a cold analysis, a hat pulled and tugged with elegant frustration. Scarves and gloves that almost dripped off the form with sadness, and a winter dress that seemed to hold warm hope in every stitch.

Chloe was there, all around her in that workshop, and that curiosity, the yearning to understand her bled into every piece she sewed.

"I..." Marinette looked around at the designs, some of them changed significantly from what they were before. "...may have gone a bit overboard."

"You think Gabriel will be mad?" Tikki asked, hovering in the air nearby.

"If he likes it, it won't matter that it's different. If he doesn't..." Marinette let the statement trail, ominously.

"Either way, it's good to see you creating again." Tikki floated over, landing on Marinette's head. "I know it's been hard for you, lately."

Marinette snorted. "Isn't that the understatement of the year?"

It used to be so easy, in school, when she was just starting out at Gabriel, it was like she was a hose creativity and ideas just flowed out of. Now it felt like she was trying to squeeze cement out through a toothpaste tube.

She was at her dream job, designing every day, and still it felt like the most she got to be creative anymore was figuring out how to stop Akumas.

This... this was nice.

The door to the studio opened and Gabriel walked in, instantly making Marinette more tense and aware than any Akuma could manage.

"Monsieur Agreste," she bowed, hurriedly as he brushed by, examining the pieces she'd just recently put together.

Marinette began to sweat as she noticed every errant thread or just slightly off placement, all the showing stitches and sloppy design work began to glow bright pink in her mind's eye, knowing Gabriel would see all of it.

What was she even doing? Did she really think she could overturn months of careful design and work putting these into productions with a few days of slipshod work in some manic state Chloe brought on? She held her whole career in her hands every time she walked into the building and this was what she did with it? Confusion? Concern? Everything she felt about Chloe when she didn't even know how she felt about Chloe? How much of an idiot could she-

"Good," Gabriel said, the strict word forcefully ejecting her from her downward spiral. "I can see my concerns for the Winter line were unfounded. These are acceptable."

Marinette breathed out a quiet sigh of relief, righting herself a moment later. "Thank you, monsieur."

Gabriel walked to the door, looking like he was going to leave without another word before he paused, suddenly hesitant. "I had heard you'd visited the Honeycomb Center," he said with the same even tone as always. "Did that... improve things?"

Marinette tried to settle the mortification rising in her gut at her employer asking after her unfortunate mental health. "Oui, monsieur. I appreciate the recommendation."

"Good." He nodded again. "Your work with the company is ahead of your peers. The Gabriel brand would be inconvenienced if something happened to you."

"I..." Marinette struggled to find a proper response for a moment before settling for, "thank you, monsieur."

With that, apparently, done, Gabriel walked out the door, leaving her alone once again.

"Well..." Tikki said, uncertainly, rising out of Marinette's bag. "He likes the designs, hooray."

"Yeah..." Marinette shook her head. "Yes. Yeah. You're right, Tikki. I just have to focus on the positives here. He likes the designs, I'm ahead of my peers, and Gabriel Designs needs me." She chose that as her preferred interpretation of the mild praise.

"I just have to work hard." Marinette set to fixing all the little errors she'd noticed when Gabriel had arrived. "I just..."

Her head throbbed and Marinette set the needle down to hiss against the pain she already knew the cause of.

"I just need to sit down and drink some water," she sighed, defeated once again by dehydration.

"And sleep?" Tikki suggested.

Marinette cracked a wry smile. "Let's not talk crazy now."

It wasn't a long break, though made longer by Tikki's nagging, before Marinette was back to work, adjusting, editing, cleaning all the pieces until little by little her designs began to shine as brightly as they could.

Marinette had always associated Winter with long days staying inside with her family, the warmth of hot chocolate by the fire, and bundling herself in enough blankets it felt like the cold didn't have a chance of touching her.

Some of the pieces felt like that, warm, comforting, familiar.

But she knew not everyone's Winters were the same. Adrien had talked about the Winters since his mother left. He'd talked about the cold, and the loneliness, how the early darkening sky made his house feel so big it was like the space could never be filled.

She couldn't imagine Chloe's were much better. Sitting in the dark in an empty apartment watching camera footage, eating whatever junk she could order to get through the day, how many Winters had Chloe spent that way?

How many had she spent alone in a hotel room with only the odd visit from a maid or concierge to check if she was even still alive?

The designs Marinette made for the Winter line did have that warmth and family, for some. But they also had the cold, and loneliness, the idea that maybe one day you'd freeze to death, and wonder just what you did wrong to deserve that.

Marinette ran a hand down one of those pieces with a pensive frown.

"What's wrong?" Tikki asked, floating upside down beside her.

Marinette pulled away, sitting back down in one of the few chairs not covered in spools of fabric and tilting her head back with an exhausted sigh. "I don't know, Tikki." She stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pitying cold feeling pricking up her fingertips when she thought about it. "I want to do something, I just don't know what."

Tikki paused, considering for a minute, before she tentatively suggested, "...sleep?"

Marinette laughed, sitting up again. "No, I want to make something..."

Tikki looked around at the studio, fabrics and pieces scattered in such a way the fire inspector would have had a stroke had he seen it. "Well..." she said carefully. "You're in the right place for it?"

"I've gotta go." Marinette picked up her coat and went for the door, Tikki following behind a moment after.

"What? Where are you going?"

Marinette smiled, dark bags under her eyes and movements exhausted, but the expression somehow clear and bright despite that. "I'm going to make hot chocolate, Tikki."

Tikki had to hide in her purse as Marinette began walking through the more populated areas of the building, so she couldn't respond to that. Although, to be honest, she had no idea what she would've said even if she did respond.

So Tikki just let herself be carried along, watching Marinette with concern.

She was... still creating. Tikki would take comfort in that.

(:*:)

It was amazing how her arms never seemed to grow tired when she was Catspaw. She could climb and punch, claw and grab, she could hold her arm straight out for hours and the limb wouldn't even shake.

"Pl-please. I've told you everything I know."

The man's fingernails scrabbled against her arm, suspending him off the roof above a six story drop.

Truly amazing.

"You are lucky, Harvey, how completely irrelevant you are to me. I really have no specific plans for you at all. You could walk away and it would make absolutely no difference to me. Or..." she let her grip slacken slightly, the man dipping down and causing a renewed fervor of useless scratching. "It may not seem like it at the moment, but right now you have perfect control over what happens to you, Harvey. You are the arbiter of your own fate."

"I told you everything," he insisted.

Chloe tilted her head, crystal blue feline eyes narrowing from behind the flat black mask she wore. "This must seem like the best option to you. You're thinking if I could just fool her, just lie to this maniac then maybe she'll let me go, and I'll be safe."

"I'm not lying. I-I swear, I'm not. Please." Tears tracked down his face as he pleaded, but Chloe's expression didn't change.

"But you're wrong Harvey." Her grip slackened some more. "You can't lie. Not to me."

"Lowell is clean, far as I know." He kicked his feet, trying to find purchase on the roof's edge. "A little tax problems, but who doesn't when you're that rich? I never heard nothing about him working under the wire."

"So you're not helpful to me at all, then." Chloe's eyes went half lidded with boredom. "Disappointing."

"Ah, ah, ah, wait-wait-wait." He felt himself start to slip through her fingers, grabbing onto her arm like a life preserver. "Agreste, Agreste, I've got something on him."

If there was a glimmer of something behind the boredom, the man never saw it. To him, his words produced no change at all. "If you're going to tell me about Gabriel Agreste's backroom fabric deals, I-"

"No, no." He shook his head, furiously. "I got a buddy, works at the power plant. Says Gabriel Agreste visits, sometimes. Talks to the head engineer, takes him out to dinner, whole shebang. He says it's a bribe, regular like."

"A bribe for what?" What could Gabriel Agreste possibly need to bribe the head of a power plant for?

"I dunno." She lowered him further, and his eyes widened in panic. "I don't know, really I don't. My buddy doesn't even know, just said it was weird, that's all."

It was too vague, too odd to be a lie made up on the spot. It was desperate, reaching, but strange enough it warranted investigation.

She twisted, throwing Harvey back onto the roof without a word.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. You-" Harvey turned around, but she was already gone, dipping off the roof and into the darkened alley below, lowered smoothly by the force of her silver staff.

"Claws in." Her transformation faded, hands in the pockets of her coat as she walked out onto the street, joining the constant parade of people visiting Paris' stores and restaurants even at this late hour. Thanks to the magic of the Miraculous, he would never be able to identify her, but there was no sense spending too much time as Catspaw. She still didn't know how Ladybug had found her before and she had to avoid creating any patterns that could be tracked.

It was cold, getting colder all the time. She should probably invest in heated clothing, but from past experience that tended to be more trouble than it was worth.

Her apartment... she hadn't turned the heat on when she'd gone out. She hoped the pipes were okay. It had been almost a full twenty hours since she'd been back, and returning to a burst pipe and a frozen bed was a nightmare she wasn't sure she had the strength to contend with.

The hotel would take her in, but it'd be better to avoid something like that, if possible.

She never slept well there anymore.

Her apartment building loomed above her, grimy snow around salted steps, and just seeing them out front made Chloe's leg ache in the cold. It was more or less healed by then, faster than normal, she suspected thanks to the Miraculous' influence, but not so fast it was truly suspicious. She was pushing it, unwisely, she knew, but she hated the weakness more than the pain.

Breathing deeply through her nose, Chloe began her ascent, leg protesting with every new bit of weight placed on it, but strong enough to bear her regardless. All the way up to the fourth floor, she walked, digging in her pockets for her keys and finding the apartment set clipped right beside those for the Honeycomb building, fitting them into the lock and opening the door.

Warm.

Chloe blinked at the first sensation her apartment drew, as pleasant as it was confusing. She knew she'd never turned the heat on, still hadn't decided if she would once she got inside since she'd likely only be there a few hours and it took the old radiator a while to start up, yet there it was.

As she walked inside, shedding her Winter boots, hat and gloves, coat and sweater, she hadn't even gotten to suspecting why it was warm, against the sheer bemusement she felt at the situation.

Then she saw the answer: Dupain-Cheng, lying on the couch with one of the throw pillows hugged against herself, softly snoring with two mugs of hot chocolate in front of her. One was half-drunk, with bits of Marinette's lip balm smudged against the rim, but the other was clean, albeit lukewarm. Looking over at the kitchen, Chloe could see a pan there, likely with the rest of it.

Chloe had completely forgotten she'd given Dupain-Cheng a key to her apartment so she could check the tapes. She definitely never expected her to use it for this.

Marinette had come there, on one of the coldest nights of the year, clearly exhausted if her still unconscious self was anything to go by, just to make hot chocolate... for her?

Was she an idiot?

"So..." Plagg floated out, uncharacteristically quiet as he stared down at Marinette's sleeping form. "Thoughts?"

"About?" Chloe tossed back.

"This?" Plagg gestured at the softly snoring Marinette, and the cups of hot chocolate she'd prepared. "How do you feel about this?"

"Confusion, mainly." Chloe's eyebrows furrowed. "Why is she here?"

"Uh, cause she likes you?" Plagg floated on his back in front of her vision. "How is that confusing?"

"That is only and exclusively confusing, Plagg." Chloe turned away, leaving the mug of hot chocolate meant for her behind. "I need info on that power plant. It has to be something local or Harvey would have said otherwise, so it must be providing power to something within Paris. If we-"

"Aren't you going to give her a blanket?" Plagg asked, lazily.

Chloe froze. "It's twenty-one degrees in here; why would she need a blanket?"

Plagg shrugged. "She looks cold."

Chloe turned back to Marinette, skeptically. "She looks fine."

"Suit yourself."

Chloe hesitated, eyes stuck on the sleeping girl as Plagg's easy capitulation rattled her focus. "...does she need a blanket?"

"Why are you asking me? I don't know how humans feel." Plagg drifted off, phasing through the fridge, in search of cheese.

Chloe stared at Marinette some more, unmoving. Would Plagg have brought it up at all if it wasn't the right action?

...maybe?

It was just a blanket, the actual difference it would make on her comfort was negligible. Really, she was spending more effort thinking about it than just grabbing it and putting it on Marinette would have taken.

Chloe hissed a breath out through her teeth, palms itching unbearably as she fought against a headache that was starting to pound against her head.

Her leg throbbed as she crossed her apartment to dig into the closet for her couch blanket, hands brushing against the protective cover Marinette was clearly not using as she insisted anyone did before they slept on the couch, but Chloe pushed that annoyance aside for the moment, gently draping the blanket over Marinette's sleeping form and watching her curl into it slightly as she fed her body warmth to the slightly chilly fabric.

Then she almost fainted, stumbling forward and just catching herself before she collapsed entirely onto Marinette and disturbed her sleep. Pushing off with the last of her quickly waning strength, she managed to make it to the other end of the couch, sitting down near where Marinette's legs were stretched beneath the blanket Chloe had just given her.

"It's about time," Plagg commented, throwing a piece of cheese into the air to catch it in his mouth. "I've had self destructive holders before, but you take the cake on that. What'd you think was gonna happen, going that hard, that long, without sleep?"

"Done it before," Chloe muttered, legs not responding to her commands to move.

"You didn't have a Miraculous before," Plagg said, pointedly. "They're not just a strain on the Kwami, you know. You have to eat and rest to recharge, too." Plagg flew to the mug of hot chocolate, lifting it up with some difficulty and pressing it into Chloe's hands. "Here. Drink."

Chloe grimaced down at the cup. "She used the milk from the fridge, didn't she?"

Plagg raised an eyebrow. "Uh, probably?"

Chloe pouted off to the side. "Alix drinks from that carton. Her spit has to be all over this."

Plagg crossed his arms. "Don't care. Drink anyway."

"So gross." Chloe winced, lifting the cup to her lips and choking the sweet liquid down.

"There you go." He handed her a piece of cheese to follow it. "That'll get you...something, at least. Now sleep."

"You're a cruel matron, little cricket," Chloe said, eyes sliding shut under what felt like an immense weight.

"We are still not calling me that," Plagg barked, just a little too late.

Chloe was already asleep.

"Why can't I ever have any easy holders, like Tikki does?" He sighed, drifting down to pluck up the edge of the blanket covering Marinette and pulling it over Chloe's legs.

Tikki floated up out of Marinette's purse, fuming. "You think I have it easy over here?"

"Wow, look at the time. Welp, gotta go." He floated through the floor, Tikki chasing after him.

"We are not done talking about this."

Chloe and Marinette slept side by side in the warm apartment, finally alone.

(:*:)

Marinette hadn't meant to fall asleep. After she'd made the hot chocolate for Chloe and started to drink some of her own, she'd waited up for her as long as she could on the couch until the soft lull of the apartment's heat began to drag her down. She'd asked Tikki to wake her up when she heard Chloe start coming up the stairs, but there was a part of her that knew Tikki wouldn't do it.

Tikki was a lot of things, but understanding of fashion designer crunchtime wasn't one of them. Not that Marinette had much room to talk since she'd skived off work entirely to go make hot chocolate for a random friend, so maybe Tikki's idea that she should spend some of that time sleeping had some legs after all.

Still. Sleeping, she hadn't intended.

She definitely hadn't intended to wake up feeling something warm pressing against her back, either, and as more and more of her slid into consciousness, she could feel arms wrapped around her, and the heat on her back that she slowly recognised as a person.

It wasn't her proudest moment that as her sluggish brain remembered she was in Chloe's apartment, her first thought wasn't that it was Chloe herself sleeping beside her, but that someone breaking in to do it was far more likely. To which her incredibly mature response was to flail and fall off the couch.

Looking back up to see Chloe's face, peacefully sleeping despite the racket she'd just made, was surprising enough she didn't move for a solid minute while her brain reset.

Marinette put her hand down to push herself back up, closing it around the mug of hot chocolate she'd made for Chloe, already long drunk.

She'd come in there, saw Marinette asleep on the couch, drank the hot chocolate, grabbed a blanket and climbed onto the couch to sleep, cuddled next to her?

Was she messing with her?

What was she supposed to do with this? This was so outside anything she'd seen of Chloe so far. Between her parents and everything she'd witnessed of her and Alix, Marinette was starting to think Chloe didn't have a concept of physical affection.

Affection?

Was she showing affection for Marinette?

Chloe?

What was going on? What was she supposed to think about any of this?

"Marinette?" Tikki whispered, and in a flash, Marinette grabbed the tiny Kwami and ran into the next room.

"Tikki, what is going on? What happened after I fell asleep?"

"Marinette," Tikki said, gently. "There's a perfectly logical-"

"Perfectly logical?" Marinette gestured furiously toward the main room. "Tikki, Chloe was just snuggling me. How could that happen perfectly logically? A week ago she was confused why I even wanted to get to know her, and touchy-feely is never something I've associated with Chloe. The only logical way I could see it happen is if someone somehow forced her to, and even then the only other person I know comes here is Alix, who wouldn't."

Tikki hesitated, eventually snapping her mouth shut. "There... wasn't any other person with her," she reported. "Chloe walked in, saw you sleeping next to the hot chocolate, went to get you a blanket, then sat down on the couch beside you to drink her cup. I don't... think she intended to fall asleep next to you, but I don't think she minded it either."

Tikki's speech was halting, and more carefully neutral than Marinette was used to her being, but the content was enough to calm her down, somewhat.

"So, her hugging me when I woke up, that was all unconscious; she'd have done the same if I was a pillow or stuffed bear?" She asked.

Tikki looked up at her carefully, wide blue eyes staring. "I think so."

Marinette leaned against the wall, covering her eyes with a hand and sighing deeply. "Oh thank god."

Tikki blinked. "You're relieved?"

"Are you kidding? Last I checked, Chloe barely tolerated me. If she came out suddenly wanting to get close to me, I'd have to assume it was some kind of trick." Marinette smiled. "But now I know she saw me sleeping on the couch and she got me a blanket, she drank the hot chocolate, and apparently trusted me at least enough to sleep next to me. I didn't get to see any of it, but it still feels like we've gotten a little closer, you know?"

Tikki seemed to process that for a moment. "Well, I'm glad you're happy," she eventually managed.

She was happy, and she was relieved, but also...

Marinette leaned against the doorframe, watching Chloe's softly sleeping face.

Maybe, just a little, disappointed. She wouldn't have trusted if Chloe suddenly wanted to get close to her, would have been confused, but, it would have been nice.

Marinette looked down at her hands, bunched up fists at the bottom of her shirt she had to force to relax.

Yeah.

Marinette went to the bathroom to fix her hair, checking the time on her phone before softly stepping past Chloe and out the door again, back to the office and all the work she still had yet to do.

It would have been nice.

Chapter Text

Alya looked down at her phone, trying not to sigh at the message brightly displayed on it. It wasn’t a particularly surprising one, not even concerning, really, but the fact it was typical was probably what made it so frustrating.

“I hope that isn’t one of my messages,” Kagami said, dryly humorous as she sipped coffee across from her.

“No, it’s just Marinette. We were supposed to have dinner weeks ago but one or the other of us keeps bailing.” Alya laid her phone on the table, picking up her latte to join her. “Today is Marinette’s turn to flake, that’s all.”

“Your careers must keep you busy,” Kagami noted, neutrally.

“They do, but it’s also just weird to think of Marinette not really being a priority anymore. When we were kids, I’d dump half the important stuff I keep ditching her for in an instant, and the other half I’d try to work her into anyway while I was doing it. Now, it feels like I’m treating her the same way I’d treat, like, Ivan or Rose. Still friends, just not as…”

“Important?” Kagami offered.

“Present, I guess. They are still important, but they’re not really as much a part of my life anymore as they were. I mean, she used to be my best friend, and now…” Alya’s eyebrows furrowed. “Now I don’t know. She’s got something going on with Chloe, but if you asked me to explain what exactly that is, I couldn’t tell you.”

Kagami leaned her cheek on her hand, smiling slyly. “And what do we have ‘going on’? Can you tell me that?”

Truthfully, Alya had no idea. Since the dinner when she’d woken up in Kagami’s bed, they’d been calling and messaging each other, but this cafe was the first time they’d actually met up in person again. And now…

“I’m talking about other women right now,” Alya realised. “I’m not supposed to be doing that, am I?”

“I’m not so sensitive I’d be offended you talk about your friends, Alya,” Kagami answered amusedly, sliding out of her chair and clacking expensive shoes against the ground to tower over Alya, curling her hand under her chin to bring her head up to look at her. “Though I will admit, I am the jealous type, so if I notice your attention wander too much, I’ll have to work harder to get it back.”

Alya felt her cheeks catch fire, not for the first time, at Kagami’s bold flirtation.

“Hey…” Alya pulled back slightly and Kagami let her hand fall, moving to sit back into her chair. “When I was at your place, your mom said something about your… ‘conquests’.”

Kagami’s smile flickered, a more neutral expression taking its place. “I see. I imagined she would.”

“I’m not…” Alya waved her hands like that would summon the words, but none came out.

“You believe in my ‘sleeping around’ you are just another tally mark on my bedpost,” Kagami elucidated.

“I don’t…” Alya shook her head. “Okay, a little. And if I am, that’s okay, but I really want to… manage expectations.”

Kagami nodded. “A reasonable request.” She stood up, and Alya felt her stomach drop out at the thought she would just leave, insulted, but instead she moved beside Alya and bowed slightly, holding out a hand. “And one I’ll attempt to accommodate, but I believe a more thorough exploration of my sexual history requires a change in location.”

Alya took the hand, rising to her feet and following Kagami out the door and into the park, the by then thoroughly Winter weather keeping most away at that time of day, affording them a bit of privacy.

“I’ve had relations with two men,” Kagami said once they’d been walking a few minutes. “Intimate relations, I mean; I’m not counting childhood pecks on the cheek with Adrien or the like. They were good men, and I liked them as people, but found nearly all romantic aspects between us terribly boring. I suspected that was just my approach to sex in general, before I met my first girlfriend.” Kagami half turned to her as they walked, hand still wrapped comfortably around Alya’s in the chill, and she gave a humored half-smile. “This would qualify as really talking about other women on our date, which is rude, and I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” Alya shook her head. “It’s what I wanted, what… what was her name?”

“Sasha.” Kagami turned away again, still walking. “She was the daughter of a business associate of my mother’s, and by coincidence, my mother was attempting to set me up with the girl’s brother, when we met.”

Alya tried to form a picture of Sasha in her mind, something amorphous barely forming, hair shifting brown, black, red, and blonde, a smiling face without eyes, a shape wrapped around a younger Kagami that never fully came together.

“She was… unlike anyone I’d ever met at the time, I think. Funny and daring in a way I couldn’t hope to emulate. She teased me with jokes about her dating me instead of her brother, dressing up in his clothes so that our foolish parents wouldn't notice, just jokes to her… but not to me.” Kagami looked down. “When I finally confessed my feelings to her, she agreed to go out with me for a time. I think it was more as apology for pushing the jokes too far than any genuine interest, but I found I enjoyed it infinitely more than my other experiences all the same.”

Alya opened her mouth to say something, though she wasn’t quite sure what it would be, but Kagami had already begun speaking again.

“After that, I decided to pursue more relationships with women, attempting a few styles I’d seen online or in magazines to make my preference more clear, though…” she wrinkled her nose a little distastefully. “I found they suited me very poorly on reflection. It took a few more attempts at that side of the dating pool before I stopped trying to make it a… ‘costume’, to put on, and wore my hair and clothes the way I preferred. Besides,” her lips lifted in a smile that could almost be considered mischievous, “I believe this style suits me much better, don’t you?”

Alya felt her eyes track her unbearably neat black coat, no speck of animal hair or dust marring it, with her dark red silk scarf and belt breaking up the black pants below and her own dark hair above.

“It’s good. It… it suits,” Alya said, feeling a lot like an idiot.

“Forgive me a little teasing.” Kagami squeezed her hand, comfortingly. “I can assure you my intentions are not jokes.” Her eyes went forward again, some of the humor leaving her voice as she continued. “Since that time, I’ve had four long-term girlfriends, and nine I’d consider much more in the category I believe you’d consider as ‘conquests,’ though that’s not a term I typically use for them. My mother, as much as I love her, doesn’t consider my relationships with any women serious, hence they are all ‘conquests’ to her; a power-play she has it in her mind I do before I finally settle down, as she suspects I will quite soon.”

Alya filed away the numbers for later, when she could actually think about them. “And, not according to your mom, according to you, which am I? Serious? Or non-serious?”

“To be honest with you, I hadn’t decided yet.” Kagami turned again, the small smile she wore becoming a little wan. “Even without Sasha, my luck with serious relationships has not always been what I might have wanted. I love women a great deal, but… they don’t always quite love me in the same way. When you called, I thought it would be fun to talk, and see if you reacted to some teasing and then I’d see, but since then, although I do enjoy your reactions quite a lot, I still haven’t been able to decide if I want to court you, or…”

“Conquer me?” Alya asked, shooting a little of that teasing back, and making Kagami laugh.

“Yes,” she said, lips parted in a bigger smile, one that actually showed her teeth. “Or conquer you.”

“Okay.” Alya nodded her head, turning the words over in her mind. “Well, despite what my plaid shirts in highschool might have led you to believe, I’m… new, to this. I want to give it a try, but I guess, if you ever figure out which one could you-?”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Kagami promised, then after a minute more of walking in silence, she pulled on Alya’s hand, drawing her close. “But if it’s any hint which direction I’m leaning in…”

Kagami’s hand snaked around the back of Alya’s head, pulling her in for a deep, hungry, kiss, that seemed to force all the blood from her brain, warming her body more effectively than any coat she might have worn.

Kagami pulled back, eyes half-lidded. “Does that give you any ideas?”

It wasn’t a fair question, since it clearly gave Alya ideas, but-

“That was a terrible hint,” Alya spluttered. “I still have no idea which one that was.”

Kagami hummed, amusedly, turning back to walk along. “Now that is a shame. Perhaps I should show you the alternate option, so the difference is better highlighted in your mind.”

Alya wasn’t sure which would be harder to handle at that point, the kiss they just had being the courting one and the next being far more sultry and passionate, or the kiss being conquest and the next being gentle and sensual. Either one seemed like it would melt her brain out through her shoes, but…

Alya squeezed Kagami’s hand again, fingers still intertwined. “Maybe you should.”

Really, what was she using her brain for anyway?

Kagami laughed, deep and rich, as she stopped and turned, moving her hands to Alya's cheeks and kissing her again.

Alya gasped in the air, breathless, when she pulled away again, completely untouchable by the wisping cold around them in that moment. “Can I get the first one again?” She asked after a beat. “For comparison?”

Kagami pulled her in again.

After four kisses, five, eight, Alya had no idea which direction Kagami was leaning toward for her.

Somehow, that mattered a lot less to her right then.

(:*:)

Marinette knew it couldn’t be that easy. The shovel she’d broken in half to find no Akuma inside was tossed to the side as she dodged behind a building to avoid another onslaught of transformative snowballs from the Akuma’s snowman army. She was vaguely sure she’d already faced one of those, but let the thought pass as soon as it had occurred.

After a long enough time, all the Akumas seemed to repeat. She’d gotten used to that by then.

“Who?” Catspaw’s voice sounded behind her, as utterly silent in her approach as she was the first time, and the few scattered Akumas they’d faced after that as well. It was unnerving, as seemingly effortless as it was, she already knew from Chat it had to be something she worked to achieve, but even then it was far from what bothered her the most about Catspaw.

“Called himself Snowprowler. Anyone hit by a snowball gets added to his army, he can teleport between them, and they can liquify to go through cracks,” she outlined succinctly.

“Item?” Catspaw asked next.

Ladybug gave a half-shouldered shrug. “Not his shovel. That’s all I’ve got so far.”

Catspaw nodded. “Okay.” With her claws extended, she leapt up and rapidly climbed the building beside her, disappearing out of sight once again.

“Good talk. Love this partner thing,” Marinette muttered to herself, slinging her yoyo around a chimney and yanking herself away from the army as well.

She’d gotten close enough to Snowprowler to nab his snow shovel before, but she didn’t think dropping down from above would surprise him again. From below was far riskier since his snowman army could melt into any drains or sewer grates she could slip under.

Guess that meant she had to improvise.

“Lucky Charm.” Her yoyo spun, Miraculous power charging and finally dropping a black and red spotted sponge in her hands.

Her eyes darted around, seeing snowmen gathering, people running, transforming, Snowprowler teleporting, lamppost, store window, apple stand, manhole cover, throwing, chasing, melting, standing-

Ladybug’s eyes refocused on the manhole cover, the object flashing red and black in her mind’s eye.

“That’ll work.”

She swung off towards it, enhanced strength lifting it easily off the ground and slipping inside like a shadow. The whole affair took less than three seconds, but the snowmen noticed anyway, instantly surging toward her despite the manhole closing behind.

The snowmen melted through the gaps in the cover, liquid seeping through into the sewers below, dripping directly onto the sponge she placed below, filling it as ice leaked through, struggling to reform from the snowmen’s absorbed state.

It was working, but Marinette still felt uneasy. She wasn’t sure when she stopped trusting her first impressions on that, but as she spun on her heel to see more snowmen approaching from down the sewer tunnel, diving to the side to avoid the volley of transformative snowballs they launched her way, her mistrust was once again well-earned.

Had she gotten lazy? This wasn’t her most elaborate of plans, but they weren’t always either. Sometimes simplicity was key.

Marinette’s back touched the cold stone wall signifying the end of the tunnel.

And sometimes complexity was necessary to survive.

Snowprowler stalked forward, an icy snowball swirling in his hand. “Your Miraculous is mine,” he growled, rearing his arm back to pitch it at her.

“Cataclysm.” Catspaw was behind him, appearing so suddenly it was like she’d dripped down from the walls themselves, and her hand landed on his elbow, destruction rippling through the sensitive joint before she pulled, ripping the man’s arm clean off his body.

Snowprowler howled, stumbling back, and Marinette forced any thoughts of surprise, disgust, or horror to the back of her mind as she focused on his person. Frozen skin, long, icy, ears, a half crumpled tophat, a satchel slung over his shoulder, winter coat flapping, winter boots stomping. No. It had to be the satchel or the hat.

Marinette pressed her feet against the wall like she’d seen Catspaw do before, and leapt toward him, hand outstretched.

Fifty/fifty shot.

She tore the satchel in half as soon as she got her hands on it, pausing for just a moment to see if any black butterflies came out.

None did.

Another mistake. Snowprowler’s remaining hand formed a snowball right above her head, taking advantage of the momentary pause to drop it.

“Ladybug.” Catspaw moved, tackling her out of the way and tumbling down the tunnel, slamming her back into the wall, cupping Marinette’s head close to her chest to keep her from hitting it on anything.

“Are you okay?” Marinette gasped as Catspaw gave a low groan. “Did you-”

“I’m hit,” Catspaw said, curtly, her body shifting to slush and snow before her eyes. “Forget about me. Finish the job.”

It was so bluntly pragmatic. She could point to dozens of times Chat did the same thing, sacrificing himself so Ladybug could cleanse the Akuma, but this was different, it felt different. When Chat did it, it was with an absolute assurance that Ladybug would win no matter what, save the day, bring him back.

With Catspaw, it was like it didn’t matter. If she won, if she lost, if she had Ladybug powers at all. Catspaw had sacrificed herself to save Ladybug, not because she knew she could bring her back, but because in her mind, Ladybug was more valuable than her life.

“Guess the new Cat just wasn’t up to snuff,” Snowprowler growled, stalking forward as more snowmen moved alongside him, Catspaw rising up as one of them to join him, filling up the tunnel enough Marinette couldn’t get past.

“You talk too much.” Her yoyo lashed out, snagging the hat right off his head and yanking it back to her hand. Snowprowler barely got a moment to shout before she tore it in half, a black butterfly flapping out she cleansed on the spot.

It took running down the sewer tunnel again, heart pounding at every pile of melting slush around her, before she secured the sponge again, now much larger than when she’d first created it. With a yell that charged it with magic, she threw it into the air, her ladybug cure flashing all throughout the city, putting everything right again.

Just like always.

“That was too close,” she muttered to herself, the persistence of the Ladybug transformation the only thing keeping her from really feeling the stress she knew was coming as soon as it wore off. It was more and more often as time wore on, Marinette felt herself missing the physical enhancements of Ladybug far less than the mental ones when she detransformed.

“Ladybug?” Catspaw called from around a bend in the tunnel, and Marinette turned, shocked she was even still there instead of disappearing again like the last few times they’d stopped Akumas together.

“Catspaw?” Marinette walked closer, hearing her earrings beep their two minute warning. “You’re still here?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice pitched differently than usual, but with the same flat affect that was undeniably Catspaw’s. “I’d meant to do this far earlier, but circumstances kept preventing me.”

A slender hand reached into Marinette’s view from around the bend, depositing an unmistakable black ring on the floor.

“What is this?” Marinette asked, wanting to run forward and grab it, but wariness and confusion in equal measure stopping her.

“You didn’t choose me. If it’s any consolation, the old Chat Noir did, but you only have my word that’s true.” The detransformed Catspaw gave a slightly shaky breath, the unfamiliar weakness from her throwing Marinette even further off. “You need a Chat Noir that fits you better. I’d suggest you look in your civilian life for someone laid back, but adaptable, capable of taking direction, and willing to throw themselves into the line of fire to protect you. If you have a spouse, it will be tempting to pick them, but I suggest you don’t. It will be too much of a distraction if they’re hurt. Best results will be finding someone deeply in love with you, you only feel friendship for, but I suppose… you’d know that best.” There was a scrape against the floor, like she was standing up. “I’m not a hero, Ladybug. I wish you good luck in finding one.”

The squeak of sneakers against the floor, walking down the connecting passage was what finally had Ladybug dive forward to grab the ring, holding it in her hands, feeling the magic of the Miraculous so obvious like this.

“Catspaw, wait,” Ladybug called out, hearing the footsteps pause. She put on the ring, watching Plagg fly out of it.

“Hey, I tried to stop her,” Plagg shrugged, easily.

“Plagg, ignore all previous orders given to you by your wielders,” she commanded, just in case Catspaw tried to set up something sneaky with the cat Kwami’s forced obedience while in her possession. “Did… Chat Noir, really give you to her? So she could be the new Cat?”

“Sure did,” Plagg confirmed. “She still thinks he made a bad choice, but he made it free and clear, no one forced him to.”

Marinette leaned against the wall, biting her lip. “Chat Noir, is he… okay?”

Plagg’s expression softened. “He’s happy and healthy, kid. He still loves you to death, and his biggest regret is having to leave before he could say goodbye. Don’t ever think, for even a moment, he didn’t want to.”

Marinette felt a tear roll down her cheek, sadness and relief mixing through her blood as her earrings beeped to warn her of her last minute.

“Do you trust her?” Marinette asked, quietly.

“I…” he hesitated, looking back in the direction she was, standing stock-still as she waited. “Yeah,” he answered. “I do.”

She heard Catspaw give a sharp intake of breath, surprised.

Marinette took a moment, squeezing the ring around her finger tightly as she gave a deep, bracing, breath before she walked forward, carefully removing the ring and laying it on the ground where Catspaw had before, stepping back.

She heard the footsteps as Catspaw moved closer, still out of sight but pausing without taking the ring. “...why?” She asked after a moment.

“Chat Noir chose you. Plagg trusts you. I don’t think I need another reason to let you keep it.” Marinette crouched down, seeing Catspaw’s pale arm reach out to hesitantly reclaim the ring. “You’re a hero now, Catspaw, no matter what you say.” She carefully extended a fist. “Pound it?”

After a few moments, Catspaw’s reached out and brushed against hers, before sharply pulling back, running footsteps signalling her departure.

“Shy.” Marinette cracked a smile, feeling her transformation release itself. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Who would’ve thought what?” Tikki asked, and Marinette patted her head affectionately, moving to the ladder.

“Looks like Catspaw’s here to stay,” she said, simply, climbing up and out onto the street, where thankfully only a few people looked over at the strange sight. Somewhere, streets away, Catspaw was going through a similar experience, she was sure.

Marinette stretched, spreading her arms and feeling the sun warm her face despite the cold air.

“Today’s a better day, Tikki,” Marinette sighed, turning and striding confidently down the street as her Kwami munched on one of the cookies in her purse. “I’m gonna find Chloe.”

She missed Chat Noir, wished she could see him again hard enough it hurt, but talking to Plagg, and Catspaw for more than a word or two, there was some closure in that.

She felt good. Somehow, she wanted to share that with Chloe.

That was what friends did, right?

Marinette sniffed her sleeve, pulling back and gagging slightly at the sewer smell that lingered on the fabric. “Okay, so shower and change first is a definite must.”

She wasn’t far from Alix’s place, and she had a change of clothes in her bag, so maybe she could impose on her for a shower.

Her steps slowed.

Then again, there was the chance Chloe would be there too, and see her in sewer clothes.

Marinette kept walking.

But why did she care if Chloe saw her like that? She was going to change and shower anyway, it wasn’t like she didn’t plan on getting clean.

…why didn’t she care if Alix did?

She shook her head.

Alix wouldn’t care, that’s why. Chloe was a total germaphobe, of course she’d freak out if she came to her like that, and of course Marinette wanted to avoid that. It just made sense.

She nodded sharply.

It just made sense.

(:*:)

Plagg watched Chloe walk down the street, eyes still focused on her clenched fist, like she’d captured something tightly within she couldn’t let go. The expression on her face while she watched it was what truly captured his attention, though, an emotion he’d only seen from her in the barest of flashes before, now utterly transparent:

Wonder.

It was pure, and undisguised, like a child’s. Wide eyes staring down at it like she couldn’t believe the world could produce such a thing.

“So…” Plagg said eventually. “Did that go to plan?”

“I can’t remember,” she murmured, still staring down at it. “No, I don’t think it did.”

“Oh.” Plagg didn’t say anything for a minute or two. “That’s gotta sting.”

“I think I have to accept there are certain people I have more difficulty predicting.” Slowly, she took a breath and lowered the fist, unclenching it and looking ahead while she walked again. “Chief among them Ladybug, Marinette, and you.”

“I’ve always been a capricious kitty,” Plagg admitted, preening. “Ladybug and Marinette though, huh?”

“Ladybug has never been a surprise as far as that goes. Marinette I never expected to be nearly as… much, but I guess I misjudged her.”

Plagg nodded, deciding not to comment on that either way. “And how does it feel to be a hero?”

Her nose wrinkled. “I smell like a sewer.”

“Surprisingly? Not that uncommon for heroes.” He waited as she walked along, expression back to normal, something even and neutral to mask her thoughts. After a while of silence, he thought that would be the end of it, but,

“It was… nice,” she said quietly, before shaking her head, banishing the softness that had momentarily come into her expression. “I need to work faster. Hawkmoth only becomes more dangerous if I’m supposed to be the defence against him. If I can’t find him soon, he’ll probably win.”

“You won’t let that happen, Chloe,” Plagg said unwaveringly.

She raised a hand up to her chest, lightly brushing against where Plagg hid beneath her coat. “No,” she answered, voice as steely. “I won’t.”

She opened up the apartment, stepping inside and carefully removing her shoes and coat as the most infected items, finding a garbage bag to place them in and moving across the apartment toward the bathroom already active with the sound of running water. “Alix, I need the shower. Now,” she ordered, shucking off her shirt and pants while feeling her skin crawl with the semi-imagined filth she was covered in, pushing open the bathroom door to see someone already stepping out.

“Uh, hi,” Marinette said awkwardly, wet hair sticking to her back like a drowned rat, and seemingly very hastily wrapped in a towel at Chloe’s entrance.

Marinette was here? What was she doing here? How did she get in? Where was Alix? Did she mean for this to happen? How would she orchestrate such an event? Mouth open, eyebrows up, surprise? Ears and cheeks red, embarrassment? Should she go? Embarrassment can cause Akumas, can’t it? Have to avoid. Still gross. Germs all over skin. Need to clean. So tired. What time was it? Had she slept yet? She could go for longer. Forget Marinette. Clean first.

“Hi,” Chloe answered after a moment. “Are you done?”

Chloe didn’t think Marinette could have shot out of the bathroom faster if there were a black butterfly at her heels. But, when the door slammed shut behind her, she put thoughts of Marinette out of her mind in favor of entering the shower and starting to scrub, relief finally relaxing her shoulders.

When she’d finally finished and turned off the water she placed her palms against the wall and leaned heavily against them, focusing her breathing into long, smooth, streams for a minute, composing herself bit by bit.

“She’s still out there, isn’t she?” Chloe asked eventually and Plagg nodded.

“Yeah, I think she left her bag in here,” he confirmed.

“Right.” She took one last deep breath before straightening her shoulders and grabbing her towels from their usual peg, wrapping one around her body and one around her hair, before reaching the door and stepping out.

“Hi.” Marinette half-stood, hair still wet except for the parts that frizzed without proper drying, and still covered in Alix’s borrowed towel. “Did you have a nice… shower?”

“What are you doing here, Dupain-Cheng?” She asked, Marinette’s wince at the harshness in her tone forcing her to add, “I wasn’t… expecting you to be.”

“Alix let me in as she was going to work. She said I could use the shower because I… spilled something on myself,” Marinette explained, embarrassedly.

Somehow, even Marinette being predictably clumsy still managed to end up unpredictable, she thought with a small measure of annoyance.

“Why are you here?” Marinette asked next, eyes narrowed at her slightly in something Chloe thought might be suspicion. “Why’d you have to shower so badly? You looked clean to me.”

“I believe that’s why you’re a fashion designer,” she said pointedly, tossing the bag Marinette left in the bathroom over to her. “And not a surgeon.”

Marinette caught it, a smile tickling across her face. “If I were a surgeon, you’d never talk to me.”

Chloe felt her lips twitch involuntarily into a smirk at the accurate rejoiner. “I suppose that’s a relief, then.”

Marinette’s grin widened enough Chloe felt like she had to squint against the brightness before she realised her still present state of undress. “Oh, I should really get dressed, but, do you…” she brushed a wet string of hair off her face and behind her ear, looking up at Chloe hopefully. “Would you like to go somewhere? A-after you get changed too, of course.”

She regarded her carefully for a minute, the girl’s enthusiasm seeming to flag under her stare. “Sure,” she said eventually, moving past her towards where Alix kept a small cache of her clothing in case of an emergency like this. “I was planning on visiting a power plant just outside the city. If you wanted to come along, I could use another set of eyes.”

Marinette took a moment before responding, apparently readjusting her expectations. “Is this about Hawkmoth?”

Gabriel Agreste. Fifties. Rich. Used to ordering people around. Doesn’t like attention. Impatient. Dedicated. In a field he can come and go as he pleases. Manipulative. Stubborn. Obsessive.

“You know…” Chloe looked back at her, eyes shining like glass. “I think we’re going to find that out.”