Chapter Text
The longer she waited around, the more terrifying the atmosphere became. It was dark enough to start seeing things that weren’t in the dark. She hated her paranoia at times like this. Taking a few tentative steps forward, Marinette tried blindly navigating in the space she was in. At the very least, there was nothing around for her to trip over.
There was light again, for a single moment, but by the time she looked up in its direction, it disappeared. There was a quiet woosh that got closer, from up above. She imagined someone else used the elevator thing after her.
In reality, this space was… really small.
It didn’t take her long to find the wall—really, walls, since she ended up hitting one of the corners—and, unless she was in a ridiculously long room, it wasn’t as big and unpredictable as she imagined it to be.
Then… Click.
The lights turned on.
It was an empty space, one that looked fitting for a storage room, but again, it was just… empty. Devoid of anything but life. Her eyes landed on Nathalie, standing near a hallway connected to the room, smiling knowingly at her.
Her calm composure didn’t soothe Marinette anymore.
“This way, Mlle Dupain-Cheng,” the woman gestured calmly, all of her moves deliberate, calculated and calm.
Marinette wasn’t calm in the slightest. She had no idea what was happening, or why Gabriel Agreste up and decided to take her down a creepy ass elevator to an empty storage room that apparently led to some other place. She could only try to peer inside the hallway, resulting in nothing, as the end of the hall was the same as the room was a moment ago. Dark.
She sighed, running her hands over her arms to try and ease her nerves as she stepped into the hall.
Nathalie followed close behind her after shutting the lights, occasionally reassuring her with words like “Keep moving forward. We’ll be there shortly.” It was a very bad way to try and reassure her, but she also got the feeling Nathalie wasn’t particularly pressed about keeping her comfortable. Oh and apparently it wasn’t just a hallway but a dwindling corridor that stretched on infinitely. She had to keep her palms pressed to the sides so she wouldn’t miss a turn and hit the wall.
All she wanted was to play Ultimate Mecha Strike XXV with Adrien… what did she do to deserve this? Couldn’t a girl catch a break in this city? She thought this would finally be a normal day without any hassles.
Guess not.
The corridor was on an upward slope, carrying her higher up with each step. She had no idea the mansion was even built like this. It looked pretty straightforward from the outside… But then again, the Agrestes were ridiculously rich, so secret passages in their own home wasn’t such a strange conclusion. The obscenely rich had weird priorities in their real estate choices.
Eventually, she actually found herself hoping it would end. That she would be face to face with whatever terrible or great thing Gabriel Agreste had prepared for her eyes and her eyes only already.
How did Nathalie even know where to go? She was sure they could’ve missed like a dozen splits in the corridor with how far they’d walked, but she somehow knew the road to take in this darkness. That was impressive… and very suspicious. If not for the fact that she didn’t want to risk stopping and seeing Nathalie’s reaction to her coming to a halt, she would’ve paused just to look back and make sure the woman was actually there.
Her voice felt so eerie in the darkness that she couldn’t be sure if she was here or everywhere.
“We’re here.”
Now it came right from behind her, so… here, it was. She stepped forward, her hands slipping away once there were no walls closing her in, and her feet settled on even ground now that she wasn’t climbing anymore. The space was bigger than earlier, she could tell. There was a little more air in here than there was there.
And… she was hearing something.
Something that got a tiny bit louder every time she stepped closer to what she assumed was the middle of the new, dark room she was in. Was that… buzzing? No, not buzzing, but more like the flapping of very little wings in complete silence. Something brushed past her arm, and she nearly yelped, but then it was all over her and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Did Gabriel secretly collect bugs as a hobby? What was she feeling? She was getting really weirded out by everything.
“Isn’t M. Agreste going to join us?” she asked nervously after prying her hand from her face, fighting the urge to swat away whatever was moving next to her.
“Oh, worry not. I am already here, Dupain-Cheng.”
She froze. His voice sounded like it was right behind her, whispering into her ear, but she was sure that he wasn’t even close to her. She could feel the cold sweat trickling down her face. This wasn’t fun at all. This wasn’t nice at all.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here,” he continued, and the smirk in his voice was so obvious it sent a chill down her spine.
Marinette hesitated to answer, but when he didn’t continue, she figured he was expecting a response. So she answered. “You said… I’d be better utilized with your tools, whatever that meant.”
“That’s correct.”
“And that…” she paused to swallow the lump in her throat. “That you wanted to show me the truth.”
He laughed, a sound that was the farthest she’d ever heard from pleasant. A sound that made her shrink into herself, in worry of what was going to happen to her, and in fear of the truth he wished to show her. Gabriel Agreste was never a pleasant man, but now? Now he was terrifying.
Gabriel didn’t address her when he spoke next. “Nathalie, the lights.”
But instead of a regular room with lamps or lightbulbs, the source of light was the very large window opening right in front of her, forcing her to use her hand to cover the sudden stream of light on her eyes. The very hand that was clutching Scarabella’s charm, facing the now-lit appearance of the lair. She blinked open her eyes, looking around.
Another empty room…
And then it registered for her that she was surrounded by pure white butterflies. The sight left her quite at awe, the fear from before turning into wonder. They were beautiful. She could understand why Gabriel would collect them, if that was his hobby.
“This is…” she whispered, trailing off.
The beauty of it had her captivated. The way the light caught the butterflies’ wings. Their coordinated flight around her; swirling, surrounding. She smiled, reaching a hand up to let one of them land on her finger.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked.
It was then that she realized he was right behind her.
Marinette yelped, hurrying forward and out of arms reach, forcing the butterflies to part the way for her and then regroup near the center. God, that was terrifying. Didn’t he ever hear about personal space?
“Y…yes.” It was clear that her earlier fascination with the butterflies was shattered by his presence, replaced with dread. “They’re… really pretty.”
Gabriel nodded once, satisfied with the change in her demeanor. The way that awe that bordered on getting comfortable shifted into being acutely aware of his presence in the room once more.
Her brain was going at high speeds, trying to make sense of this situation. “Real butterflies kept in a sanctuary overlooking the city… this place is totally empty…” She paused. “Are they your muse? For a new Agreste brand series? A butterfly-themed series? It makes sense when you think about the hold-out period the brand’s had for months now bu…”
“They’re beautiful, yes,” he interrupted smoothly, moving closer to her yet again. This time, she wasn’t quick enough to escape, and his hands grabbed her shoulders, ensnaring her in his grip. “But they’re far more than just beautiful. Pure white butterflies… are terribly efficient, as well.”
The girl froze, swallowing nervously. Pure white butterflies? Efficient? She was struggling to understand his explanation, or whatever he was hinting at. It was a wonder how one man could make butterflies sound so ominous. Her gaze drifted to Nathalie, only to find that she was no longer by the switch, but rather, she had moved to her one and only exit.
Before she could question him on that explanation, or on any of what was happening, he leaned closer. “Tell me, Dupain-Cheng,” he implored, and his next words were uttered right into her ear, a secret between the two of them. “What do you know about Scarabella?”
His proximity to her, the feeling of his controlled breathing against her skin, the way his words echoed in her brain a second after he’d said them, all of it made her incredibly queasy. Her head turned at an angle, ever so slightly, in order to look at the man, and a shiver ran down her spine. That look in his eyes. That look, that told her he was expecting an answer that would solve his life’s problems, made her tense up. Because she didn’t have one.
What did she know about Scarabella?
Not more than the average person; Scarabella was a heroine, a superheroine, and, at least to others, she was cool and brave and smart and really pretty. She was what kids looked up to, what kids wanted to be. She was also courageous in the face of the ever persistent Hawkmoth, who gave them hell for years now. Scarabella was… a hero. The successor of Ladybug.
Ladybug…
The moment Gabriel noticed that sparkle in her eyes, as she entered deep thought at the internal recall of Ladybug, his grip tightened. “Yes,” he whispered harshly. “Yes, that’s it. What do you know? What does your mind recall?”
Marinette paused her thinking, shooting him a raised eyebrow and pressed lips. A look that was so utterly ‘What are you talking about?’ that it rendered the man silent, his expression freezing. “I don’t know anything more than the average person. I don’t know why you think I’d be any different. Just because Alya runs the Ladyblog…”
She didn’t get to finish that sentence.
With nothing more than a huff of incredulity and irritation, Gabriel shoved the girl forward, away from him, releasing her. She rubbed her arms, as if to rub away the goosebumps and fear and cold sweat. It was probably obvious how terrified she was. She moved towards the nearest wall, hoping to find something that could help her get out of there. Meanwhile, the man had turned to Nathalie, the disappointment clear in his eyes.
“Your hypothesis, as unfortunate as this is, appears to be correct, Nathalie. She’s not lying. This is… astounding.” He would’ve sounded impressed—he did, in some manner—if not for the utter resentment dripping from his words.
All Nathalie did in response to his observation was nod. “Memory loss,” she confirmed. “Whatever she knew, Scarabella made sure to get rid of the traces.”
Marinette turned to the woman as well, confused. “What?”
They ignored her altogether, or at least her words, because Gabriel had turned his attention back to her, now circling her with his chin held in his hand. “Yes, I agree,” he concurred, “not simply biological… magical.”
“Gabriel.”
He didn’t turn to her. “Yes, Nathalie?”
“It reminds me of the old Guardian’s farewell. The… aftermath, of his retirement.”
That, by the end of the last syllable, had the man rooted to the spot. His eyes found Nathalie’s from across the room, expectantly, before his lips curved into a smirk that looked… wrong. Just wrong.
“No wonder Ladybug’s plans against me were always so… craftsy.”
The queasiness from before was coming back in full force. She didn’t like the implications. What did she have to do with Ladybug? What did he know that she didn’t? And what plans did Ladybug have against him?
Marinette’s hand curled into a fist, and she pressed it to her mouth, taking a hasty few steps back. THUD. The collision with Gabriel, which she realized way too late, sent her stumbling, and she then lost balance completely. Her knees slid against the smooth floor. All he did in reaction was click his tongue.
“The Guardian, right under my nose this entire time,” he huffed, as if offended by the notion.
She couldn’t understand anything. What were they talking about? Why wouldn’t they just tell her?
Nathalie stepped forward with a knowing smile, gesturing with her tablet at the girl on the floor, who was clearly beginning to feel unwell. “That would explain the reactions in the fight, post-memory retrieval upon unleashing her… “ultimate attack” as one would call it,” she explained calmly, without a shred of sympathy. “Especially knowing Scarabella’s identity. After all, only the Guardian…”
But, of course, they were so insistent on keeping her in the dark. The rest was a mystery to her. Nathalie never finished the sentence, because the designer gave her the order before she could.
“Hold her.”
Huh?
No.
No no no no no no—
Marinette scrambled up onto her feet, but the moment she was up, a shadow loomed over her from behind. She felt herself being grabbed in an armlock, with Nathalie’s arms looped from under her shoulders. All she could do was struggle against the grip, panicking and helpless. This was not fun. Not fun at all. Why did Adrien look so okay with this?
Her heart was beating out of her chest. She could feel the sweat gathering on her skin everywhere, and she was really, really not feeling so good.
“Hasn’t this trip back home been… weird, Dupain-Cheng?”
His words struck her. Weird.
Alya, and everything she had to do with Ladybug. Secrets she was not aware existed, secrets that were kept from her by the person she told everything to. An obsession with Ladybug that, somehow, had turned awkward without her realizing. Alya, what are you hiding from me?
Chat Noir. His replica. The… the white. So much white that she couldn’t remember. Was it white? Was it really white, and not something else? And why did it haunt her so badly? Who are you, chaton?
Before she could answer, the man continued. And got closer.
“Wouldn’t you like to understand everything? Don’t some things just feel… incomplete?”
Incomplete.
Her dreams, abruptly cutting off and never making sense. Specifically the dreams that always felt so… real. She wanted to understand everything. She wanted things to make sense. She hated this. She hated this.
Gabriel could see the gears turning in her head, turning in his favor. His smile grew more profound as he leaned in, drawing her out of her storming thoughts and drawing her gaze with it.
“I could show you, you know.”
Her eyes, which reflected her overwhelmed state, froze on his face. “Huh?”
“Everything.”
Everything… Could he really show her everything? Could he make it all make sense? Her brain wasn’t even denying the ridiculous possibility; if it was a thing, she needed it. These past three days were torture. Absolute… torture. Seeing how her friends changed without her. Seeing how Paris evolved without her. Not understanding the changes that came to Paris.
She turned to him, her eyes burning from tears and intensity all the same. Finally, she would be in the know. Finally, no one would look at her like they did, with pity and a lack of patience to explain all she’d missed in her absence.
“I’m going to show you the truth, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he told her menacingly, with a self-satisfied smile. “Whether you like it or not.”
At first she felt happy at the opportunity. She really did.
And then he moved, and the words spilled from his mouth as he tore off his neck ruffle:
“Nooroo, dark wings rise.”
The cold vindication of what she was going to get was replaced by a fresh and much worse wave of nausea and horror than before. Gabriel Agreste was Hawk Moth. Gabriel Agreste was a criminal. Gabriel Agreste had taken advantage of her panic attack at the party. Gabriel Agreste was planning on using her again.
And he wasn’t going to give her a choice, was he?
* * *
Adrien, as he had told Nathalie earlier, was indeed planning on staying put and waiting right there.
The first few minutes dragged on and felt like an eternity; he figured Marinette was probably taking her time because she was always so passionate about fashion. No one ever sought out his father’s company willingly for an extended amount of time. He was really hoping that his father was in there, in his office, offering her an internship. It was the least she deserved! And his father had to have recognized her talents by now. If he was in his shoes, he would’ve staked his claim on her career way earlier, marking territory.
‘...Okay, maybe that’s a little too intense,’ he thought to himself, taking it down a notch.
His gaze drifted once more to the door. No footsteps, no nothing. ‘They were really… deep in it, huh?’
The silence wasn’t so casual anymore. He was getting impatient, which felt weird, because he was usually pretty patient…
He slumped over his sofa, staring up at his hands, up at the ceiling. His mind went back to the night of the party. Her reactions to Chat Noir. Did they part on such a sour note three years ago? He couldn’t remember doing anything that bad to her as Chat Noir. Not anything that would make her panic at the sight of him.
‘But… was it really at the sight of me?’
His brows furrowed as he fell into deep thought. That look in her eyes, after she recoiled, was not pointed at him. He could tell. It was like how people, when affected by certain akumatized villains, were stuck in their own heads. Not truly looking at him, at the hero there to save them. She was looking beyond him, or at someone that had taken his place at that moment. But who?
‘Now you’re breaking more than just my heart, princess,’ he repeated in his head, remembering the exact phrase that had sent her panicking so badly. But… that was the first time he had ever said that. He’d never told her that before.
Adrien ran his hands through his hair in frustration, shaking his head. “What did I do, princess?” The words were swallowed by the large room, not lingering for more than a millisecond. He stared up at the ceiling feeling helpless, trying to formulate the solution to his heartache that was also hers. To find the path to her heart that would not have her running away crying from his truth.
After a few moments, the doubt settled even deeper. His right hand stretched up to reach for the ceiling, and he looked at his fingers, examining his joints. Imagining the black suit clinging to his skin instead of the exposed porcelain that the world adored.
The hand that had destroyed so much, the destruction that Ladybug—and now Scarabella—fixed so many times. But she would always reassure him that he was more than destruction. That, without him, there was no balance, no peace. And he believed her wholeheartedly. It made sense! Creation and destruction, polar opposites that made a “perfect match”; a balance.
But he also disagreed. Because, in his heart, the balance was not made complete with Ladybug. It never had been, even if he’d been blind before.
His balance was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. A knight in shining armor was nothing without his princess.
Her bashful smile in the mornings when she’d come to school late, despite living so close. Her creative ideas whenever the class wanted to do something. Her incredible bravery and composure when the world threw the worst akumatized villains at her. Her tolerance and patience and kindness to everyone, even if those people were unbearable and annoying and deliberately made her life hell. Her craftiness and innovative craftsmanship even while under stress. Her ability to provide a solution even if it seemed impossible to do so.
That was the creation to his destruction. She was the creation to his destruction.
A warm, loving smile grew on his face at where his thoughts were steering. He sighed aloud, his eyes no longer focused on his hand, but on something far away.
“Marinette…” he mouthed wistfully.
Ad…n…! A…ien!!! Adrien!!!
Something dark and impatient had been buzzing over his face, trying to get his attention, but he’d been too deep in his train of love thoughts to truly notice. Adrien blinked several times, startled.
“Adrien!” Plagg exclaimed, noticing he’d finally gotten his attention. “Honestly, you need a love therapist. How do you do it? She was just here.”
He let his hand fall to his side immediately, looking elsewhere as his cheeks flushed. ‘I said that out loud? All of that?’ he thought, embarrassed.
As if reading his thoughts, the kwami replied, “You need to do like, a reverse exercise where you say her name like a thousand times so you never say it again.”
‘Oh,’ he thought, realizing it wasn’t so bad. ‘So not ALL of it…’
With a sheepish smile, Adrien sat up on the sofa and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, Plagg. I just can’t stop thinking about her. It’s been so long… and she’s still as radiant as ever.”
“Next you’ll tell me she’s carefree and dreamy too.”
He shot him a glare. They’d formed an agreement that Plagg wasn’t going to bring up anything modeling-related since he’d begun to loosen himself from his father’s grasp. Of course, that agreement hardly held together, and Plagg found a lot of joy in constantly teasing him with that leverage. He’d brushed it off. This? No, this was crossing a line. Because comparing Marinette to that wretched fragrance line was like calling her… shallow! And stuffy!
Plagg immediately picked up on the boiling irritation inside his holder, and waved his tiny hands back and forth. “Okay, okay!” he conceded. “Sheesh… Anyways, focus, Adrien, we’ve got serious stuff to handle!”
The retort was right there, at the tip of his tongue, but Adrien held back once he saw the look in his kwami’s eyes. Whatever this was, it was serious. Serious enough to get Plagg to act serious. Which… meant it was bad.
“Tell me everything.”
The kwami nodded, crossing his arms to emphasize his seriousness. “Sugarcube called. Or, well, Scarabella called. This whole Miraculous direct line thing is ridiculous, but… it works. So basically she found out where Hawk Moth’s lair is and—”
“She found him? How? And where is she?” he interrupted, rising to his feet.
“She said to suit up and meet her at the place she sent to your staff,” Plagg informed him, shrugging. “It’s close, I think. Also, she said one more thing: prepare to put an end to this.”
It was then that reality hit him.
Scarabella had found Hawk Moth’s lair. Scarabella was waiting for him to storm the palace.
These four long years could finally come to an end.
He didn’t let the happy tears out yet. With solemn determination, he reached his hand out and uttered the words: “Plagg—claws out!”
By the time the green light evaporated from his room, he was already a blur in the cool Paris wind. His touchdowns were short and powerful, propelling him forward to the destination pinged on his staff’s inner device. He was hurrying to Scarabella’s position like a man possessed.
The faint blur of red in the distance was like light at the end of the tunnel. He gave one, final burst and propelled himself in her direction, then pulled the brakes before they could crash. Three more years of the hero gig taught him cool maneuvering tricks, what could he say?
He landed next to her on the rooftop, and this time, there was no theatrical flourish to his landing. Then he stared at her, dead on, and demanded: “Where.”
Scarabella nodded in an equally solemn manner, turning away from him to face one of the buildings in the distance. She pointed her fingers at one in particular: the backside was open, revealing a large… butterfly shaped… window.
His expression fell as he processed what he was seeing, transforming into misery-fueled frustration.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“HOW?! How did we miss that?!” he screamed, the accusation directed at both of them as he pointed at the window. “It’s right there! It’s HUGE! It’s.. it’s…”
Adrien stopped himself, dropping onto his butt and pressing his face to his hand in despair. “It’s been there. It’s always been there. Ladybug and I… we didn’t see it. Four years. Four years and that bastard was hiding right under our—”
Then he stopped again.
His eyes were wide with something other than frustration or despair. Terror.
Because that building was familiar. It belonged to his father. It’d been abandoned for a long time now, but it was under his father’s name, the property was Agreste, the… oh. Oh, Hawk Moth was a terrible genius. If anyone had caught onto it sooner, his father would’ve been framed for it. No one in the family had gone anywhere near it in years; the same went for most of the property surrounding their estate that was not in use. Most simply had simply become… storage spaces. Or offices for the Agreste brand, et cetera et cetera.
But he would know that it was impossible for his father to be Hawk Moth. Gabriel Agreste hardly left the estate anymore. All of his conference meetings, at home. Or through his devices. All of his work, at home. He couldn’t have been terrorizing all of Paris from his work desk.
“That building belongs to Gabriel Agreste. It was right in front of us for years. You’re right.” Scarabella’s voice cut through the thick veil of his internalized terror, snapping him back to reality. He turned to her, more guarded, more rigid. She noticed, of course, but she didn’t comment.
“Okay, no, wait, before we throw out accusations,” he immediately began to counter, waving his arms in front of himself. “That man hadn’t left home in years. Logically, there’s no way for him to get there without leaving.”
“He’s filthy rich. He could afford literally anything, Chat. Ever thought of that? Secret tunnels that lead to his secret lair?”
His lips strained into a half-smile, half frown. He had to shut this down. This was too much. “No, no, there’s no way. There are no secret tunnels. I would know, because—”
He froze. Her eyes trained on him even more intensely.
“—because, I’m a platinum member! We get all of the hot goss from his assistant gal, Sancoeur. And… someone, uh… leaked the building blueprints to our forum. Stalkers. Crazy ones. Where else would I get my pawsitively dashing fashion sense from??”
It was so unbelievably cringe, so unbelievably him, that it worked. Even if a sliver of uncertainty remained in Scarabella’s eyes, she sighed and shook her head, turning back to the large window that gaped at them from afar.
“You’re right, Chat, I’m being too rash about naming anyone the mastermind,” she conceded, frowning.
Then, she probably remembered something, because before he could make sense of it, she shouted “Oh fuck! Marinette!” and used her yoyo to swing right towards the windows. No explanation, no call for him to follow, no nothing. That was the look of primal fear; the look of I’m going to be too late to save her.
And given she shouted ‘Marinette’, Adrien’s terror grew tenfold.
He scrambled after her, jumping down the streets with his staff in a hurry to catch up to his partner. It was starting to click together. The sudden call out of nowhere, the urgency. The way she just happened to figure out the location of Hawk Moth’s lair, somehow. She didn’t explain any of it. And now Marinette was in danger.
But there was no way for them to get close and get in, they realized. Scarabella came to a stop at the building slightly overlooking the window, not right in front of it but still there, and he landed beside her again. He didn’t wait for an answer earlier, he wouldn’t wait for it now.
“What’s going on?” he hissed, grabbing her shoulder—not roughly, but enough to make it clear he wasn’t going to accept a non-answer.
She looked at him, pained. Not from his hold, but from whatever lied behind the windows that they were too frustrated to look at right now. Which was probably their biggest mistake… but ego had its way of ruining the most good of intentions. Her hand, when it grabbed his to tear it off of her shoulder, was hesitant, almost a guilty grip.
“After the last fight, I…” she paused, knowing what she would admit was a violation of what they stood for. “I planted a bug. I gave Marinette a false charm, told her it would protect her from Hawk Moth.”
His expression contorted into rage, most of which was absolutely irrational of him. “You lied to a civilian and… and… what? What do you even need a bug for? She’s a civilian! She has zero clue of what’s going on, and she’s barely been here half a week, why would you—”
“I know!” she exclaimed and raised her voice in her own self-directed frustration. “I know, Chat! I didn’t want to, but I had to! I had to, because I knew this would happen. I knew he would go for her. I knew he would be such a massive prick that he wouldn’t let her rest for even a day and…”
‘What?’
He paused, looking at Scarabella in a new light. This wasn’t some… power-trip perversion, or anything of the sort. This was a plan. Maybe even the plan.
“Is that how you… found the lair?” he asked, quieter this time.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Her sigh was so tired, so guilt-laden, that he was starting to feel bad for lashing out at her. Still…
“That’s not okay, Scarabella,” he began again, looking at her sternly. “We agreed civilians are off-limits after last year’s…” Adrien trailed off. No need to reminisce about those times anymore. They were close to the end. “But, if this is really it… then it’s okay. We’ll explain everything to Marinette after we’re done with Hawk Moth.”
Scarabella nodded, happy with the new direction the conversation was taking. Then he asked the one question she probably didn’t want him asking.
“What did the bug show you? How did Marinette get there? She was just…”
He didn’t like what the answer was going to be, because he saw the visceral reaction Scarabella had specifically to the question of what did the bug show you out of all three. And it also reminded her that they had no time to waste.
“...You’ll see for yourself.”
“But Marinette—”
The heroine didn’t let him follow up on that. She launched her yoyo up into the air, activating her Lucky Charm, and was pleasantly surprised to see it was a ridiculously oversized shield. Without sparing him a glance, she stepped over to the edge of the rooftop and pointed ahead with the shield, holding it with two arms.
“Launch us over there with your staff. We’re crashing a party.”
‘Alright, fine. If she won’t elaborate, I’ll just see for myself, just like she said. Right now, we got someone to beat up.’ Adrien’s lips curved into a wicked grin as he twirled his staff in his hand. “Let’s show him who’s running this town for good, huh?”
He positioned his staff right between them; then, with a single click, shot them right towards the large butterfly shape in the window. They both held on tight as the wind harshly blew in their faces, the shape not aerodynamic in the slightest. There was a slow moment where their shadow fell over the three shapes occupying the lair, stretching ominously… before the massive red and black shield broke through the glass.
CRACK!
The shattered pieces flung over them as they landed inside, shield tossed aside haphazardly. It was a mess of glass. Some even hit the pure white butterflies flying around, crippling their wings, eliminating their freedom from the man that had abused them for his nefarious intent. They brushed it all off, brandishing their weapons and finding their target.
“The gig’s up, Hawk Mo—”
Scarabella was about to stomp down to personally beat sense into Hawk Moth’s demented head, but both heroes froze at the scene they crashed in on.
No one was paying attention to them.
There she was, their damsel in distress, the very reason Scarabella was able to find this place. Marinette was shuddering intensely, not even struggling anymore. Nonetheless, Nathalie’s tight armlock prevented her from slumping onto the cold floor, forcing her to stay on her feet even as they wobbled. She wasn’t looking up at Hawk Moth, who loomed over her menacingly. He wasn’t smiling. It was the concentrated face of a man about to destroy someone’s life for the purpose of succeeding.
“STOP IT!” Marinette screamed. The tears streaked down her face, a new, hot wave coming every other second. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything! I’m a worthless, stupid, clumsy girl that can’t do anything right—”
The man affirmed her self-deprecating outburst, leaning closer. “That’s right, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You’re worthless. Your designs are horrendous, I’ve seen them myself, you dare call them art? Not to mention your unsavory taste in alliances and partnerships.”
It was clear this topic, the dismantling of her entire pride, had been started just recently. The choice of words, however, threw Adrien for a bit of a loop. ‘What’s Hawk Moth got to do with… designs and partnerships?’
“So we know now, don’t we? You’re worthless. Worthless without your knowledge. Knowledge that you keep hidden to yourself.”
“But I don’t know—”
“Do you want to stay worthless?”
“Stop it… please…”
The exchange was brutal. Nathalie strengthened her grip, forcing Marinette’s head to jerk up from the pressure, so the villain and the girl would cross gazes once more. There was no longer terror in them, the heroes could see; only a very panicked brokenness. She was breathing too fast, too little.
“Listen to me, you stupid girl, do you think any of your friends care about you?” he hissed, reaching his free hand to grab her hair and yank her head up, to keep her there. “No. They’re off in their little homes, thinking, “oh, I should stop being friends with her, she’s such a mess, and they always come back rotten from New York,” and wondering how to let you down gently, you understand?”
The raw gasp that left Marinette’s lips was devastating.
Adrien took a step forward, his eyes shimmering with a primal rage. But it wasn’t focused at Hawk Moth. It was pointed at Nathalie. At the betrayal. That someone so close to him, someone so deeply embedded in his household, would betray him and his father. It made sense now, how Hawk Moth even got his hands on this place. Nathalie had access. His father wouldn’t have batted an eye. It was a cruel, genius move, one he desperately wished wasn’t true. But there was no denying it.
“Nathalie!” he shouted, enraged, then quickly added “Sancoeur!” as if it would make him any less suspect.
Couldn’t blow his identity just yet, right? He took several steps forward, twirling his staff in his hand. The action wasn’t casual. No, it was a way for him to let out the steam boiling inside of his head without going for the kill right away.
The moment his staff aligned with Nathalie in a way that wouldn’t hurt Marinette, it stretched on lightning fast, hitting her square in the side and sending her flying at the nearest wall. There was no mercy from him anymore. No mercy besides his unwillingness to kill. She clutched her side in pain, but was still poised to follow any direction given to her by Hawk Moth. The sight disgusted him to his core.
“NATHALIE!” Hawk Moth boomed, turning away from the girl to face his aide. His features now contorted with rage too, and when he moved to face Chat Noir, he hissed, “You dare?”
Marinette fell to her knees, gasping, sobbing, dragging her hands over her face. Her eyes, when she turned towards the heroes, held the faintest glimmer of hope. She was a wreck, but for some reason, it seemed to not be quite enough for Hawk Moth just yet. Otherwise, he would’ve akumatized her ages ago. And Adrien saw how Scarabella paled at that realization. His partner moved to go and help her, but he was faster. More erratic.
He reached out, his clawed hand now an offer of comfort rather than hurt. Not a solution, just a hand to hold. And he called out to her, to her heart, deep inside of her:
“Marinette!”
That was the most devastating thing he could’ve done at that moment, whether he knew so or not.
The hope in her eyes died. She was seeing it again, whatever she saw back at the party, whatever had taken his place. And the next moment, she was screaming for a different reason altogether.
“PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, CHATON!”
It was raw and pained and terrified. He’d stopped dead in his tracks, hand still reaching out, unable to move even a millimeter. Not because of the fear. Because of the words. He was right. It was him. Whatever she was seeing was him, and he had no idea what she was referring to. There was nothing that came to mind that could explain why she would be so utterly traumatized… from him.
And that was when Hawk Moth acted. His head had turned in Marinette’s direction so quickly, it was clear he saw this as his jackpot. With enough force to probably crush it, the man reached out and grabbed one of the pure white butterflies that were still alive, corrupting it.
“Go, my beautiful akuma, and evilize her!” he exclaimed triumphantly, his lips stretched in a vicious smile.
Adrien knew he had no time to let the shock take over. He reset his staff and rushed up to Marinette, reaching out for her. ‘Forget fear, forget resistance, forget everything. She can fight back and hit me for all I care,’ he thought, his expression creasing with misery, ‘I can’t fail her this time. I can’t let her get akumatized because of me again.’
The terrified girl hurried away from him and, in her staggering, fell back on her butt and the heels of her hands. “Stop—stop, stop! Get away from me! Please! I don’t know who you are! Just leave me alone!”
He froze.
She… couldn’t tell who he was. But she’d just called him ‘chaton’ and told him to leave her alone. She was still telling him to leave her alone, but she was claiming not to know who he was. Then, was the waking nightmare haunting her not him? A copycat of him? The Copycat? No, no way, that was years ago, and she was fine way after that.
As his brain struggled to compute what she was telling him, Scarabella called out to him, “Focus, Chat! You can make sense of it later! No one speaks sense when they’re panicking!” Right, right. He shook his head, and was about to cross the small distance keeping him from Marinette…
When he saw the butterfly enter the charm gripped tightly in her hand, slithering through closed fingers.
His eyes widened in horror, and he took a step back. “No no no, not again. Are you serious?” He turned to Scarabella, now seriously questioning the situation. “We barely beat her last time! And now she’s…”
Scarabella finished for him. “Going to be way more powerful. Yeah.”
“Fuck. FUCK! Marinette!”
That didn’t help, and he obviously regretted it, but there was no taking it back. Chat Noir crossed the distance, kneeling in front of her where she was clutching her head, shaking it.
“No, no, I don’t want to, not again,” she cried, pleading with the forces trying to corrupt her.
“Marinette, listen to me,” he softly whispered to her, smiling his most gentle smile.
This was not the playboy hero of Paris Chat Noir. This was late-night talks Chat Noir. This was bad boyfriend advice Chat Noir, because Chat Noir never dated—not that anyone would ever know that. This was 8 missed calls he wished he could’ve done but didn’t have a hero phone Chat Noir.
And this Chat Noir wanted to remind his good friend Marinette Dupain-Cheng that she had a lot to count on here in Paris, even if it felt so far away for years. And that Hawk Moth was telling her lies, because no one here would ever dream of abandoning her. Not him. Never him. And oh, how he’d kept wishing that she’d tire of fashion school and come back and make his patrols interesting again. That she’d let him crash over at her little balcony and talk about nonsense. That they’d tease each other nonstop. He’d kept wishing that for three years.
“You’re here. With me. We’re your friends, and we’re here with you all the way.”
She paused, raising her head to look him in the eyes. He’d almost gotten his hopes up, until he realized he’d mistaken that look for something else entirely; not a lucid state, but a totally broken state.
“He was right,” she muttered, her hand gripping the charm even tighter. “I’m a burden. All I do is cause a mess for everyone. I should just… I should just remember everything. So I’m not a burden. He said it’s the only way.”
But what got Adrien wasn’t Marinette’s words. It was Scarabella’s visceral reaction.
“MARINETTE, NO! YOU CAN’T—” she screamed, so desperate to stop the akumatization after hearing the girl utter those words. It was too late.
The purple fog engulfed Marinette, swallowing her whole, forcing him to retreat. He watched the transformation in horror, and his hands clenched into fists at his side. This wasn’t something he could bring himself to watch. So he focused his anger at the culprit, at the culprit of these four, terrible years.
Hawk Moth.
The man was cackling, brandishing his scepter and grinning madly. “Jester Memory,” he began, halting his cackles in favor of sickeningly sweet words. “I return you to your prime. And… I give you all of your memories back. All I ask for in return is… the weapons that I need over Scarabella and Chat Noir.”
A weapon. He wanted a weapon.
Not the Miraculous.
“You little—” Adrien snapped, but Scarabella was there to pull him back, shaking her head.
“Listen, Chat Noir,” she whisper-shouted, forcing him to focus on her rather than the now-three enemies ahead of them. “I called the others. Pollen and Wayzz should be alerting them already.”
His eyes widened. She’d already called for backup, assessing the damage and knowing they were outmatched. Of course. Just like Ladybug, Scarabella was every bit as dependable. But something was bugging him.
He leaned on his staff, brows furrowed as he asked, “Why not call on Trixx too? Rena could be a huge help right now.”
Scarabella looked taken off guard, stumbling over her words as she tried to justify her decision for not involving Rena Rouge. It was a mess, but eventually she got out: “I tried. She’s very occupied right now.”
“Oh… yeah, alright.”
The situation was too urgent for him to question it right now. He, together with his partner, turned back to the fully-transformed akumatized villain, his lips turning down in a frown. It really was the time to end this, once and for all. He just wished Marinette didn’t have to be the victim suffering in the very middle of everything.
A low, building laughter echoed in the lit lair, followed by the SHING! of a blade cutting through the air.
Jester Memory raised her scythe up in the air, pointed at the two of them, a warning. First at Scarabella, then at him. It looked slightly different now; a black and red bell dangling from the bottom of the snath without a sound. She tilted her head to the side, smiling. It was the same smile she wore at the climax of their last battle, the knowing smile that had left Scarabella on edge. The knowing smile that hid behind it the identity of Scarabella. And a knowing smile that was deliberately ignoring the heroine right now.
“Miss me, chaton?”