Chapter Text
Marinette stumbled down an alleyway and rounded the corner. At last, after walking for at least an hour, physically depleted and unwilling to transform, she arrived in front of Master Fu’s massage parlor. She lifted a fist to knock on the front door, but it opened before she ever got the chance.
A concerned looking Master Fu stood in the doorway.
“Ladybug,” he greeted quietly and stepped back. “Please, come in.”
Once the girl had cleared the door, he closed it behind them and led her to the treatment studio. She took a relieved seat on the mat while he walked over to prepare some tea. The smells of herbs she didn’t recognize reached her, dissipating some of the discomfort and lethargy that had settled into her body. At last, the old man carefully carried a small cup of something dark and murky river-green to the table and set it down.
“Please, drink,” he said, then took a seat perpendicular to her.
Marinette slowly lifted the cup to her lips. It was hot enough to scald, and the taste was bitter, but she took several sips anyway. The effect was immediate. Most of the general ache and heaviness that was steadily growing within her diminished dramatically, though a fraction of it still remained. Master Fu watched her silently as she drank, but said nothing for several minutes. His eyes were always so mysterious, but at the same time, never worried. Now, as she watched him watching her, Marinette wondered if she didn’t seem a little bit of fear in those ancient eyes. She decided to speak up.
“Master Fu,” she began, setting down her mostly empty cup in its saucer, but he interrupted before she could get very far.
“My dear Ladybug, there is something important that we must discuss.”
Marinette immediately stopped what she was saying and nodded obediently.
“Wayzz has detected a change in the miraculous. The akuma is integrating itself with Chat Noir’s physical being, though I do not know how.”
“He’s eaten them,” she couldn’t help interjecting. “Chat, he’s not just infected by an akuma- he’s taken control of it by first freeing it from whatever object it had attached itself to, and then eating it. And it’s not the only one. He’s done it at least once more that I know of.”
The old master’s face changed from worried to grave.
“If that is the case, then what Chat Noir has done is to absorb the darkness of the akuma in its purest form. The butterflies Hawkmoth breeds are simply hosts for the evil energy he imbues them with. The power is like a virus, infecting anything living it comes into contact with. That is why akumas never attach themselves to living things. By destroying the carrier, Chat Noir absorbs the power directly. It will integrate into his body, slowly destroying it from the inside out. Chat Noir will gradually lose control over even himself. Eventually, his heart will not be able to sustain him any longer.”
Tears began to roll down Marinette’s face as she considered such a fate for her partner. Her eyes scrunched shut tightly, and her mind raced for a solution.
“I have to find him, today,” she uttered in a panicked voice. “I can’t lose Chat Noir- I can’t . And I don’t give a damn about me or what happens to me, but just not him -”
“Ladybug.”
Marinette opened her eyes to look at the man before her. Her entire being begged him to tell her there was a way to fix the whole horrific situation.
“The tea you drank today has momentarily restored your chi. As Chat Noir’s miraculous and essence fall further out of balance, yours will do the same. Transforming will only accelerate the change.”
Her eyes widened, and her jaw opened, but she couldn’t make a sound.
“You may have already begun to experience complications with your transformation.”
Marinette nodded dumbly.
“There was that time my Lucky Charm didn’t work. And just now… I almost couldn’t detransform.”
Master Fu nodded and stroked his goatee thoughtfully.
“The tea is but a temporary solution. Once you transform into Ladybug again, you may not be able to return to your regular form. You will also find that the longer you remain Ladybug, the more it will drain your energy. It will take longer than Chat Noir, but eventually, you will meet a similar fate.”
She swallowed, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest so that it was difficult to do so.
“Can I use any other miraculous in the meantime?”
A slow shake of the head was her answer.
“I am truly sorry, Ladybug, but doing so could corrupt the power of any of the other miraculouses. However,” and here a spark lit behind his eye. He rose and turned, then walked toward the miracle box disguised as an old gramophone. With the push of a few buttons, it opened, and he turned to face her again. “You may choose someone you trust to aid you in this fight.”
Marinette stood and walked toward the box, staring at the jewelry within. It broke her heart to see the empty yin-yang at the center where her earrings and Chat’s ring once sat. They were supposed to balance each other out, but instead they were dragging each other toward ruin.
Her fingers ran over a few items- the monkey, the rabbit, the dragon- but ultimately she settled on two. Lifting them up in her hands, she held them out to her master.
A fox tail necklace and a snake bracelet rested in her palms.
“Master Fu, would you please make sure these get to their owners? I’ll make contact with them soon.”
The old man smiled warmly at her and accepted them.
“Of course, my Ladybug.”
The walk home was much more comfortable, thanks to the tea she drank at Master Fu’s. But when she arrived home and switched on her dead phone, she was met with several messages in her notifications.
Maman: Marinette, where are you?
Maman: The school called and said you left after lunch and haven’t returned
Maman: You better call me, young lady
Maman: Sorry, dear. Alya told me you’ve been pretty upset lately and needed some time
Maman: Call me if you need anything
Alya: Hey gurl you mom called and I covered for you
Alya: But seriously where are u?
Nino: Dudette you gotta call my girl
Nino: I think she’s gonna have a massive freakout soon
Nino: Too late she’s halfway to organizing a search party
Nino: I got her to calm down but send her a text or something plz?
And then there was one from an unknown number. Marinette looked at the message and frowned.
Unknown: We need to talk
Just as she was about to delete the message without responding, another notification lit up her screen.
Unknown: Be at the place we last saw each other tonight at midnight
And then another.
Unknown: I’ll be waiting, princess.
Marinette’s mind and heart raced, and her lungs felt emptied of air. Feeling the strength in her legs fail, she collapsed down onto the chaise and stared into space, her phone falling out of a limp hand onto the floor.
Chat Noir wanted to see her.
Chat Noir wanted to see her.
But… why?
She sat there, unmoving, doing her utmost to remember when was the last time she had seen Chat Noir as herself, and where were they?
Was it the day they fought that sentimonster? But… which one? She couldn’t remember.
No, it had to be much later than any of them.
She thought as hard as she could, racking her brain for the last time Chat Noir saw Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
And then it came to her.
Night eventually descended, and her parents went to sleep. Marinette pretended to dress and get ready for bed, but she simply laid there, too awake to fall asleep, even if she wanted to, and watched the clock as time churned slowly on. At last, 23:30 rolled around, and she deftly, quietly, climbed out of bed, tossing on a heavy cardigan and some comfortable lounge pants over her usual short sleep shorts. There was no way she could leave as Ladybug, so she tiptoed as silently as she could down the stairs to the main level, and out the front door.
It wasn’t exactly safe to walk the streets of Paris at night, but if Marinette knew her kitty, he would probably be watching her every step of the way, and may have had eyes on her for longer than she knew. All the same, she made sure to take her phone with her, Alya’s contact open and ready to dial in case of an emergency. Worst came to worst, she told herself, she could always transform.
As she walked along, a prickling feeling on the back of her neck told her someone indeed was watching her, probably following behind from the rooftops. She didn’t dare turn and check, though, but crossed her arms a little tighter across herself and kept walking. At last, she arrived at the place Chat Noir had meant. She stopped where the Pont Neuf bridge met the Voie George Pompidou and looked around.
The streets were relatively deserted, though plenty of people still ambled about, despite the time. Her eyes cast nervously about, wondering where Chat was at the moment, and how he would reveal himself to her without exposing his presence to anyone else who might pass by. A lamp nearby flickered incessantly.
Sure he would never approach her unless she was somehow concealed, she walked under the bridge and waited, the shadow of the structure casting her into darkness. Within a few minutes, a quiet thud sounded behind her, and she turned around to see Chat Noir’s wild, glowing green eyes. Instinctively, she took a step back.
“Chat Noir,” she said, though it felt wrong. Not only was he not really her Chat Noir, but, well, he was white.
White teeth to match his white suit gleamed in the dark.
“Purr-incess,” he replied, stepping closer.
“Wha- what do you want?” she asked, then mentally kicked herself for stammering, even just barely.
He was close enough now for her to see where the toxic green of his eyes ended and the pupils began, but she refused to back away.
Chat leaned closer until his warm breath tickled her lips, raising one white gloved hand up to brush the back of his knuckles over her cheek. He smelled of Camembert.
“Marinette, Marinette, Marinette,” he murmured, mysterious smirk on his face. The way he said her name was like a secret, something only he knew. Then he shifted a bit to the side and spoke lowly in her ear. “Do you know, you’re the only person who’s ever come close to Ladybug in my eyes?” A claw brushed over one of her earrings.
Marinette pulled away and attempted to cover her nervousness with a dismissive scoff.
“Really, Chat Noir?” She reached up and pulled her purse strap tighter on her shoulder, gripping it in an effort to conceal a tremor in her hands. “That’s what you called me out here in the middle of the night to tell me-”
Chat reached up and grabbed her wrist in an almost painful grip and pulled her closer. The warmth and mischievous playfulness in his eyes had been replaced by something darker, something more primal.
“Where were you last night?”
There was no tease in his voice, no flirty tone or mirth. The green of his eyes darkened until they resembled something akin to the forest floor of a dense jungle.
“What? I was.. at home, Chat-”
“No, you weren’t.” His grip tightened a bit more. “You were on top of Notre Dame. Now tell me, princess, what were you doing there? How did you get up that high?”
Marinette paled, her mouth opening and closing, though no sound came out.
She didn’t remember getting home, but she did remember stopping to rest on the roof of Notre Dame. After that, she couldn’t recall.
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tried as she pulled at the wrist in his grip, though she couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. “How is that even possible? I-”
“It is,” he practically growled, but didn’t let her go.
At last, she raised her eyes and looked into his. They were stormy and deep, and she wondered whether she should skip the phone call and go straight for the transformation. At the very least, it would probably take him by surprise, and she might be able to catch him off guard.
But how was she supposed to purify him?
She hadn’t figured that part out yet.
In her purse, Tikki nudged her softly against a leg, and she took comfort in that.
“Chat,” she tried again, her voice much quieter this time, no longer struggling for control. “Please. You’re hurting me.”
He stared at her for a moment longer, his eyes betraying some sort of war within himself. The hand gripping her wrist began to shake, but didn’t quite release. She waited, patient, until the fingers loosened and slowly let go before pulling her arm back toward herself. Chat stood there, hand still raised and hovering as if conflicted over what to do next.
“I-” Marinette’s low voice caught, and she stopped to clear her throat. “I should be getting home now.”
But as she turned to walk away, something grabbed onto her arm and spun her around. She was about to cry out in protest, but before she could, her lips were smothered by someone else’s.
Chat’s. They were Chat Noir’s. Chat Noir was smothering her mouth with his to keep her quiet-
Wait, no. That wasn’t right.
Marinette stood there, shocked, for several seconds as she processed what was happening. Nothing, not his closed eyes or tilted head, nor the arm that was wrapped around her waist and pulling her close, nothing made her realize that Chat Noir- an akumatized Chat Noir- was kissing her until she felt his tongue sliding between her lips.
He tasted like cheese and grapes.
As soon as her brain caught up with… well, everything, Marinette pushed him violently by the shoulders. The boy formerly known as her partner looked at her with eyes wide and lips still parted, seemingly confused by the turn of events.
“Chat.” He startled visibly at the tone of her voice. “I want to go home. Let me go now.”
There were a few seconds of tense silence between them. Then she spun on her heel and headed for the lighted part of the path.
“Wait!”
He reached for her elbow again, but this time she was prepared. Still in possession of her super reflexes, Marinette immediately turned and grasped the offending hand, ducking under it and twisting it behind its owner’s back in one smooth movement. Never mind that Chat could easily twist out of her hold, super suit or not. She wanted him to know she wasn’t something to be trifled with.
He seemed to take a breath as she held onto him. His blond head hung, and he inhaled deeply, then let it out in a shudder.
“Marinette, I need you to let go, or I don’t know if I can control what I do.”
She could hear the grit in his teeth and wisely dropped his arm. He turned slowly around and faced her.
“Please don’t do that again,” she murmured.
“Likewise,” he returned.
Marinette’s eyes shifted to the side and focused on the wall, hands clasped nervously in front of her.
“Who is it, and why do you love him?”
The question was startling, and she whipped her head forward to find earnest eyes searching her own. She was a bit breathless as she dubiously asked, “What?”
“You heard me.”
The noirette swallowed and looked back to the wall.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
She could hear it- the edge in his voice, the teetering somewhere on the line between anger and insanity. She had no idea what his problem with Adrien was, but she didn’t want to risk bringing up his name and pushing him over that already precarious precipice. Besides, it didn’t matter. Chat Noir wasn’t Adrien, and none of this was going to lead her to freeing her partner.
“It’s not important, and I don’t want to tell you, not like this.”
Chat frowned and took an agitated step forward. His claws twitched at his sides.
“Why not? I can handle it. It can’t be that bad. Is it Kim?”
Marinette gave him a deadpan expression, but he ignored it and kept talking.
“Max? Nathanael? Luka? I know it’s not Ivan because he’s with Mylène. It isn’t Nino, is it?”
She sighed, frustrated.
“No, Chat, that’s not-”
“Oh, wait. I didn’t even consider if you liked girls. Is it Alix? Juleka? But she’s with Rose. And Alya is with Nino, but I guess that could still be a possibility.”
The girl crossed her arms and tapped her foot, but said nothing as he continued to ramble.
“But, who else could it be? You don’t really spend time with anyone else. I mean, it can’t be Adrien,” and as he said the name, his voice dripped with disgust.
Despite her best efforts, Marinette tensed at that, her rhythmic tapping stuttering to a stop immediately. She tried to pretend like nothing was wrong by checking the time on her wrist, but it was too late. Chat had already seen.
“Adrien?” he practically growled. “Agreste?” His lips pulled back into a snarl, and he stepped closer.
“Wh- what?” Marinette tried, backing away. “Th- that’s crazy.” But the stammer in her unusually high-pitched voice and the blush on her cheeks were a dead giveaway.
Suddenly, she was back against the wall, and Chat Noir was leaning into her face, one arm on either side of her head, palms flat against the hard surface. She looked back and forth between his eyes, searching for a sign that he would snap, but all she saw behind his gaze was a raging tempest.
“Why him?” he whispered. “Why does it have to be him?”
As he said the words, a grating noise sounded by her ear. A glance to the side told her he had dug his claws into the stone wall. She licked her lips absent-mindedly and wondered what it would take to get out of the situation.
He was already close, but he leaned in further. With nowhere to go, she closed her eyes tightly and turned her head to the side, only to be surprised when he simply rested his forehead against the stones.
“Princess,” he breathed.
She peeked her eyes open, first one and then the other.
“Chat, I-”
“Get out of here.”
Marinette blinked, shocked and a little confused.
“Get out of here,” he said again, a little fury bleeding into his voice.
“I can’t-”
“Damnit, Marinette!” Wild eyes met her as he grabbed both her wrists in his hands and slammed them against the wall. “Why are you so goddamn stubborn?!”
She set her jaw, and her mind did a million calculations in a minute of how she could catch Chat Noir off guard long enough to run, but she wasn’t quite ready to resort to doing that yet. Maybe this was her chance.
Her brow furrowed angrily, and her lips curled back in righteous indignation.
“Just what do you have against Adrien Agreste?!” she practically screamed, acutely aware that Chat had her in his grip, but not desperate enough yet to escape. “Why do you hate him? What did he ever do to you?!”
“He existed!”
Marinette stopped, stunned into silence, as Chat panted in front of her.
“He has taken everything away from me! Just by existing, he’s ruined my life!”
She gaped there, speechless, as he squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head against her shoulder, wrists still held in his grip.
“Marinette,” he whimpered, “everything he touches, everything I care about, is ripped away from me. Please. I can’t lose you, too.”
Tentatively, the dumbfounded girl twisted an arm just slightly and, finding it wasn’t completely restricted, carefully pulled it from Chat’s gloved fingers. Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her hand and placed it on his back, which was hunching over her form.
“You won’t,” she practically whispered. “You’re not.”
Something wet landed on her exposed skin, and she realized he was crying.
“I already have,” he countered, then stood straight, arms dropping to his sides.
His eyes were no longer manic, and if she had to guess, then under that white mask and green sclera, they were most likely puffy and bloodshot.
“Don’t worry,” he said, raising a hand to caress her cheek. “Once I take Hawkmoth down, you won’t ever have to worry about me again.”
Marinette frowned deeper at that and opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped when Chat leaned in and gave her the lightest of kisses. It was quick, and he stepped further back as he pulled away.
“Chat?”
He kept moving backward, eyes fixed on her, until he was illuminated by the street lights.
“Be careful, princess.”
Then his baton extended, and he vaulted up over the bridge and out of sight.
Marinette stood there for long moments before the chill of the night air and her own exhaustion prompted her to head toward home.
And as she walked along the streets, she could feel the eyes of someone watching her, but she didn’t feel afraid.
When dawn broke the following morning and she rose out of bed, she noted the feeling of fullness around her eyes. All at once, the events from the night before came flooding back to her. She stumbled lethargically to the restroom, more emotionally exhausted than physically, and confronted her own reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, her eyes were swollen, not unexpected after she cried herself to sleep.
What was her partner going through? The thought ran through her head on repeat. Deep inside, was he aware? Did he feel afraid? With a sigh, she reached for her toothbrush and did her best to make herself presentable. Some concealer helped hide the redness around her eyes, but the puffiness was impossible to disguise. She shrugged, not entirely concerned, and returned to her room to change her clothes. Lifting her phone to check the time, Marinette did a double take.
Just as it was programmed to do, her phone was showing on-screen notifications for recent articles related to Ladybug and Chat Noir. And at the top of the list-
“What?”
Walking into class less than an hour later was not Marinette’s most anticipated moment. She knew what was waiting for her before she even left the safe confines of her home. Her hand hadn’t yet touched the handle to the classroom door, and she could already hear Alya’s loud voice overwhelming several others. Marinette crossed into the room anyway, pausing only briefly before she mounted the steps on her way to her seat.
“-Ladybug is a hero- no way!” her friend practically shouted. “There’s no way she’d do something like that! There’s definitely got to be something else going on!”
The whole class seemed to be having, or at least watching, a single conversation. Everyone’s attention was directed toward the front of the room, where Alya stood beside a tired-looking Nino, who was slumping over in his chair, elbows on the desk. Her arms were raised, and she was gesturing excitedly while Kim, Alix, and Max stood facing her. From their positions and Kim’s constant, though unsuccessful, interruptions into her loud proclamations, it was clear they were having a tense debate. Marinette quietly took her seat and pulled her materials out from her bag.
Max managed to interject, “There is a one hundred percent certainty that the video has not been altered or fabricated.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose, his cell phone held out in front of him and Markov hovering off to the side.
The robot’s mechanical-sounding voice could be heard offering confirmation of Max’s assertion.
“That is correct. Although, a profile scan of the figure in the video suggests there is only a ninty-five percent probability the person is Ladybug.”
Marinette inhaled sharply, her mind reeling. What were they talking about? Almost as if on autopilot, she set out a pencil, a notepad, and her tablet on the desktop in front of her, her eyes staring, unfocused, at nothing in particular. Kim blew a raspberry, freely expressing his incredulity.
“Ninety-five? Max, I think your robot needs some rebooting. It’s obvious that it’s Ladybug-”
“Actually-” Markov went on, only to be interrupted by Miss Bustier’s sudden arrival.
“Everyone take a seat!” the teacher called.
Alix shrugged, heading nonchalantly back to her table. Kim lingered a moment as Alya turned to Max, who added, much more quietly:
“Because profile and face recognition software is still relatively new, it is almost impossible to identify anyone with absolute certainty. There is bound to be overlap with others who have similar features.”
He and Markov turned in the direction of their desk, preceded by Kim, but Alya stopped Max with a hand to his arm. The bot paused alongside its creator. A quick glance at Miss Bustier revealed her distraction with setting up the projection.
“Max,” the bespectacled redhead quietly called. “Who else did the computer think it could be?”
Max looked at Markov, which turned to Alya.
“That’s the interesting part. The software detected similarities to your classmate, Marinette.”
Three pairs of eyes immediately flew to the small raven-haired girl, two of them human and one of them pixelated. The pencil in Marinette’s hand slipped through her fingers and landed on the floor.
Class passed in a haze. Alya watched Marinette intently after that conversation, but couldn’t find the opportunity to raise the topic. It didn’t help that the noirette avoided her friend at all costs.
When the class bell rang, she shot out of her chair and headed for the door before the other girl even had her bag securely on her shoulder.
At lunch time, she lingered in the restroom, then snuck out through a side entrance and went home to eat.
In the afternoon, Marinette waited for Alya to begrudgingly leave the locker room (after having lingered for a while) before entering herself and retrieving the books she needed.
By the time school was over, she flew out of the building like a bat from hell.
She couldn’t return home, though, because that was surely the first place Alya would look for her. Instead, she headed in the opposite direction and ducked inside a shop she had never seen before. Finally able to breathe a little easier, Marinette pulled her phone out of her pocket and started scrolling through the news stories, which had only grown in number since that morning.
She could still see the headline that first attracted her attention:
Paris’s Heroes Turned Villains?
Opening the link, she scrolled down and connected her headphones to the device in her hand, then tentatively pressed play on an embedded video.
The image on the screen turned slightly dark and out of focus. Some rustling echoed in her ear, followed by some whispering.
“No way,” an off-camera voice murmured. There was some jostling, then a brightness and the picture came into focus. In the distance, she could see herself in uniform, positioned between a white Chat Noir and the akuma victim from the day before.
She stood, crouched, clearly positioned defensively, with her yo-yo held in a tense, outstretched arm. She seemed to say something to the akuma, but it was in a low tone of voice that was difficult to hear. Then the akuma roared, first in seeming rage transitioning almost into anguish. Purple seemed to bubble over its form, then collect into a tiny dot. The man left behind was ordinary, powerless, and sat hunching on the ground.
“Whoa,” the cameraman uttered.
Ladybug could be seen straightening and purifying the escaping akuma, which, once white and free, began to flutter away. The camera panned, following the insect, before it suddenly landed on a newly arrived figure.
“Holy shit,” could be heard. “Is that…?”
Marinette gasped when Hawkmoth appeared. A stone sank in her stomach. His voice, much louder than Ladybug’s previously, called out, “Not doing a very good job at leashing your pet, are you, Ladybug?”
Once again the camera panned back in Ladybug’s direction, but before it could reach her, she already had begun to yell, “Well, if someone would stop sending him akumas!”
“Oh my God,” the spectator whispered excitedly. “No way, no way, no way.”
The camera turned, much more swiftly this time, back to the villain. Hawkmoth’s fist was closed tightly, the white butterfly no longer visible.
“Just like a child to defer responsibility,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Perhaps I misplaced my trust in you.”
A low utterance of “What the fuck?” sounded in the audio.
The picture moved back to Ladybug again, catching the tail end of her response.
“Looks like I’m doing something right then.”
It stayed focused on her, but Hawkmoth could be heard speaking in the background.
“Well, if you want something done right…” he said.
The person recording started to shift back to the villain, but upon hearing the masked man call Chat Noir’s name, the image instead reversed and settled on Chat’s akuma form. “Stop this foolish nonsense,” Hawkmoth continued. “Time to go home.”
On the screen, Chat seemed to bear his teeth, making for a feral sight. Suddenly, he ran past Ladybug, who watched in astonishment, and called out loudly:
“CALAMITY!”
The camera followed him, revealing how the hero-villain touched the base of a lamp with his bubbling white power, causing the tall, heavy object to topple over. By the time the frame had returned to Hawkmoth, he was standing to the side of the fallen light and was sneering contemptuously.
“Don’t think I’ll forget this when this is all over,” he warned.
Chat’s voice could be heard out of frame.
“I’m counting on it.”
The camera returned to Ladybug, a white blur becoming smaller in the distance.
The spotted hero seemed to stare in Hawkmoth’s direction for several seconds before the person recording decided to pan back toward him. Almost immediately, he said, barely audibly, “We’ll discuss this later.”
The person videoing the whole exchange mumbled a few things under his breath.
Ladybug seemed to make a reply, but it was even more difficult to hear. After that, Hawkmoth disappeared beyond the rooftop where he was perched. Just before the video came to an end, the image returned to Ladybug, who was swinging away from the scene.
There was a few seconds of her increasingly small red form, and then:
“What just happened?”
The playback button automatically appeared on screen, the video over. Scrolling down the webpage, she skimmed the article underneath the video link. Questions about Ladybug’s relationship with Hawkmoth. Theories that the two had been working together all along. With a shaking hand, Marinette pulled the headphone out of her ear and slumped over, cradling her face in her hands.
Of all the times for something like this to happen, she couldn’t imagine one worse. Every odd seemed to be against her.
Fighting alone, with her partner akumatized.
Without Lucky Charm or Miraculous cure.
Unable to transform, or risk being incapable of detransforming.
Endangered by the magic flowing through hers and her partner’s bodies.
By all appearances, working with the enemy.
Afraid of the choking sobs that were quickly rising up her throat, she fled the restaurant.
She only hoped no akumas would appear so quickly.
And she prayed there wasn’t one heading for her.
Marinette’s feet pounded the pavement, her mind racing at a million kilometers an hour, trying to think of what she should do next. She could only hope that Master Fu had delivered the miraculouses to Alya and Luka by then. Part of her regretted that she couldn’t give the turtle to Nino, but she couldn’t imagine leaving Master Fu without it. Should anything happen to her…
Well, she knew that for the time being, Wayzz was right where he should be.
She paused at an intersection, checking the traffic before crossing the street, then stopped. The bronze statue of her and Chat Noir from their first year as heroes stared back at her, taunting. Her partner, her beloved Chat Noir, looked so joyously at her from behind hollow, metallic eyes.
Would she ever get to see that light in his eyes again?
Taking a steadying breath, she tried to clear the myriad of thoughts overwhelming her. Thoughts of her own inadequacy. Thoughts of worry and fear about what was happening to her partner, what would happen to them both if she didn’t save him. Thoughts about how she was going to do the impossible, how she could possibly be Ladybug when she couldn’t even be Ladybug. It felt like a storm swirling inside her.
Closing her eyes, she did her best to dredge up every mentoring session in which Master Fu guided her through meditation. People were walking all around her, but she couldn’t take the time to care whether or not they stared. She had to find the strength, the focus, the determination to transcend her fears. They would only hold her back.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes. It was an inkling of an idea, but it was a glimmer of hope. Else it was a desperate last ditch destined to fail.
Either way, it was her only option.
Launching into a brisk trot, she headed in the direction of home.
She had preparations to make.
In less than an hour, Marinette was back out on the streets, the light of the sun slowly waning in the sky. She had precious little time and much to do. With a messenger bag slung at her side, she hurried toward the metro. It was only a few stops later than she disembarked, then returned to the street level and hurried into an electronics store. In less than thirty minutes, she was out again, three cheap phones with pre-paid SIM cards in her bag.
Another brief ride on the metro brought her to just outside Alya’s apartments. She tucked an enveloped addressed to her friend into the right postbox, no return address, typed and printed instead of handwritten. By the time she reached the metro for the final time of the evening, the shadows of the buildings were long and the remaining sunlight dim. She finally disembarked several stops later, then hurried down the quickly darkening street toward the Couffaine’s houseboat. She was just about to leave another envelope in their postbox when the quiet but audible thud of someone walking over the boatdeck reached her ears. A silhouette appeared on the opposite end of the gangway. Even in the dimness of dusk, she could see his black and blue-tipped hair. Luka stood, both hands resting on the ropes on either side, and cocked his head.
“Marinette?”
Slowly so as not to draw attention to it, Marinette retraced the envelope and tucked it into her messenger bag.
“Oh, h- hey… Luka.”