Chapter 1: Day One - Missing
Chapter Text
The small café on Ave Bosquet was set between a hotel and a small salon, its limited outdoor seating was clustered beneath colorful parasols. The scent of roasted espresso beans hung in the warm air, softened by the distant notes of an accordion player on the corner.
At a corner table sat Marinette, Adrien, Kagami, and Félix, the remnants of their lunch scattered across chipped porcelain and linen napkins. Marinette’s sketchbook lay open between the coffee cups, a few quick pencil lines catching the curve of a passerby’s coat or the tilt of Kagami’s chin.
Adrien leaned forward, watching her with a lopsided grin.
“You realize this is the third date in a row where you’ve brought your sketchbook, right?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Marinette didn't even look up. “It counts as people-watching,” she said airily, shading a shadow beneath a jawline. “Very romantic.”
Félix made a faint sound of disdain as he sipped his espresso. “Depends on the people. Frankly, most of Paris is badly dressed.”
“Not everyone is dressing to impress you, mon cœur,” Kagami replied without looking away from her phone.
Félix arched a brow. “Tragic. I should start issuing critiques.”
Adrien snorted. “You already do.”
Marinette glanced up, grinning. “You really do. Loudly. It doesn’t matter where we are.”
Félix rolled his eyes as a breeze ruffled the paper menu and lifted the scent of lavender from a nearby planter. Adrien stretched, basking in the sunlight with closed eyes.
“So,” Kagami said, finishing her water and standing, “I have a class this afternoon. New batch of intermediate fencers. Hopefully, they know their dominant hands.”
“I’ll come with,” Marinette said, closing her sketchbook. “Sketching in the salle is less chaotic than the metro, and I need more reference for action poses anyway.”
Adrien stood and adjusted the cuff of his button-down. “I promised Nino I’d help set up his rooftop DJ thing. He bribed me with the promise of food.”
Félix stood more leisurely, brushing an invisible speck from his sleeve. “I have a meeting.”
“With who?” Kagami asked.
“Someone boring. Possibly hostile. Probably criminal,” Félix said casually.
“Do try not to start a diplomatic incident,” Kagami said, her tone dry, as she rolled her eyes at her boyfriend.
Félix offered a faint smile. “No promises.”
Marinette slipped her sketchbook into her bag and turned to Adrien. “Text me when you’re done?”
He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, warm fingers brushing a crumb away from her skin. “You’ll be the first.”
Across the table, Félix watched them with an inscrutable expression. He caught Kagami’s gaze and tilted his head.
“You’re trying,” she said softly, her voice low enough not to carry.
“It’s exhausting,” he replied.
“But worth it?”
Félix didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicked to Marinette, to Adrien’s hand at her back.
“Ask me again when you’re safe home tonight.”
The four of them stepped into the sunlight, their shadows stretching across the cobblestones. At the corner, they paused — two pairs going in opposite directions.
Adrien turned to Félix. “Don’t get arrested.”
Félix gave a half-bow, one hand to his chest. “No promises.”
As the boys headed off in opposite directions, Marinette and Kagami headed quickly to the fencing hall. It was cool and bright, its polished wooden floor gleaming beneath rows of high windows. White jackets and masks hung neatly along one wall, and the metallic scent of steel lingered faintly beneath the crisp tang of cleaning solution.
Marinette sat near the far wall on a wooden bench, sketchbook open and pencil balanced between her fingers. Her messenger bag lay beside her, half-unzipped — a faint glint of red peeking through the fabric. She wasn’t worried. Kagami had scanned the salle twice before beginning her lesson, and she’d given Marinette the no nonsense nod.
Kagami was in her element. Poised. Precise. Her voice carried easily as she demonstrated a parry sequence to a row of teens.
“You need to move like you mean it,” she said, stepping forward to adjust a student’s stance. “Every touch is a decision. Every step has weight.”
Over an hour later, the class dismissed. Laughter and clattering masks echoed as the students filed out, leaving the room quieter. Marinette and Kagami sat cross-legged on the bench, a rare pocket of stillness between them.
“How’s things with you and Félix?” Marinette asked, tilting her head.
Kagami didn’t look up from the book in her lap. “Remarkable,” she said after a beat. “He’s… Félix. And he’s trying to do better.”
Marinette hummed, accepting the complicated answer for what it was.
With a quiet sigh, Kagami closed her book. “Heard from your beau yet?”
Marinette rolled her eyes and checked her phone. “Not yet. These rooftop gigs of Nino’s take time.” She tucked the device away. “What about you? Want to come over later? Adrien and I are watching a movie.”
Before Kagami could answer, her bag buzzed.
She pulled out her phone, frowning. “That’s odd. The motion sensor’s pinging — like someone’s at the door — but I didn’t see anyone on the cameras.”
Already standing, Kagami crossed the room toward the entrance. Marinette set her sketchbook aside and followed.
When Kagami opened the door there was no one there. Just a sleek black vase on the ground — and in it, a bouquet of flowers. The petals were glossy and too perfect.
Kagami knelt, lifting the vase. “Do you see a note?”
Marinette leaned in, fingers brushing through the foliage. “Yeah. Here…” She pulled out a small envelope tucked between the stems. The paper was smooth, expensive, cream-colored with no name.
She opened it.
Her eyes widened instantly. She looked up at Kagami, stunned. “Kagami—”
There was a faint hiss. A new smell rose from the bouquet, it was chemical, sickly, and just wrong.
“What…” Kagami swayed. Her knees buckled as her vision swam. The vase slipped from her hands, crashing to the ground.
“Kagami!” Marinette dropped the card in an attempt to catch her, but her own head had started spinning. Her limbs felt heavy. Her breath caught in her throat.
Across the room, her bag — and Tikki — sat out of reach.
“No— Tikki, Spots—!”
Marinette collapsed before she could finish. As the polished floor rose up to meet her, her vision blurred as her eyes fell on the card laying on the floor beside the fallen flowers.
Pretty things break the easiest… Especially when they don’t know they’re being watched.
***
Adrien
“Dude, can you connect that piece right there… no, the one on the right… yeah there.” Nino said as Adrien fumbled with several pieces of cord.
Adrien smirked, “This would be easier if you just color coded them.” He connected the last two cords before sitting back on his haunches to look at his friend.
Nino laughed, “But then I wouldn’t be able to boss you around. Besides, look how fast we got it done.”
Adrien shook his head as he stood glancing at the rooftop event space. There were planters around the edges sending the sweet scent of lavender into the air. Party streamers crisscrossed the area above them as a makeshift roof, and there was a temporary dance floor set up in the middle.
As the party crowd has started to filter in, Adrien headed around the back of the DJ stand and grabbed his phone, swiping it open, checking for messages. Seeing nothing from Marinette, he quickly opened their chat and sent her a winky face before letting her know he was done helping Nino and to let him know what movie he should pick up for tonight.
Adrien slipped his phone back into his pocket and stepped away from the DJ table, scanning the growing crowd. The music was already thumping — a low, infectious beat that had a few early guests bobbing their heads.
He wandered toward the edge of the rooftop, absently tugging his sleeves down as a breeze played with the party streamers above. Lavender wafted again on the wind, familiar and soothing. He smiled, thinking of the little planter outside the café during their lunch, the sun on her face, her hair tucked behind one ear as she sketched.
Five minutes passed. Annoyed, he checked his phone again and once again found nothing.
Adrien frowned. It wasn’t like Marinette not to answer. She might get caught up in drawing, but she always sent a quick emoji at least. He tapped a new message:
Still alive?
He paused then added:
Or did Kagami turn violent? :p
He slid his phone away and forced himself to keep from worrying. It’s not like they talk every minute of every day, but something itched in the back of his mind. Twenty minutes later, as guests started dancing and the sky deepened into gold, Adrien checked again. No read receipts. No dots. No response.
Now he was actually worried.
He stepped away from the crowd, dialing her number. Straight to voicemail. He tried again. And again. Nothing.
He sent a quick text to Kagami.
Hey, is Marinette still with you?
Did she lose her phone again?
He waited, but when he received no reply, a pit settled low in his stomach.
He looked across the city skyline, towards the direction of the school where she’d said she was going. He could see nothing, of course, but he suddenly felt very far away. Something just felt off. He grabbed his phone again, checking for any texts, or even Akuma alerts. Finding nothing, Adrien turned sharply on his heel and headed to the DJ booth. Nino gave him a nod, before leaning over as whispering, “What’s up?”
Adrien took a deep breath, glancing around. “Sorry man, I have to go.”
Nino blinked, confused. “Everything okay?”
Adrien hesitated just a second too long before whispering, “I don’t know, Marinette isn’t answering the phone.”
Before Nino would respond, Adrien was already across the room and down the stairway dialing Félix’s number. He took the steps three at a time, before finally hitting a landing and darting through a doorway as Félix answer with an exasperated “hello?”
“When was the last time you’ve heard from Kagami?” Adrien said, breathless, as he skidded to a stop in an empty room. He glanced around finding another door and opened it to find a storage room, which he quickly went inside and shut the door.
Adrien heard Félix’s annoyance before he sighed, “Not since lunch, but that’s not unusual.”
“It is for Marinette.” Adrien stated, “Can you try to call Kagami?”
Adrien could practically hear the eyes roll in Felix’s head as he muttered “Fine” and the line went dead.
A minute passed. Then another. Adrien paced the length of the empty storage room, phone clutched tight in his hand. He stared at the screen like it might blink with an update if he just willed it hard enough.
Finally, his phone lit up and Adrien answered immediately. “Well?”
“She didn’t pick up,” Félix said shortly. “Twice.”
Adrien’s gut twisted. “Did it even ring?”
Félix was quiet for a minute before he sighed, “No. Straight to voicemail.”
That was all Adrien needed. “I’m going.”
“No, I am,” Félix said sharply. “You know out of the both of us, I’m the one more capable of dealing with something… complicated.”
Adrien flinched, knowing exactly what Argos was referring to. “What if something went wrong? What if she’s hurt?”
“She could be fine,” Félix snapped. “But if she’s not, we need someone who has a superhero team on their side. You’ll be more useful if you stay where you are and keep things looking normal.”
Adrien bit the inside of his cheek. “I hate this.”
“I know,” Félix said, “I’m closer anyway. I’ll check the school and call you back in ten.”
Adrien didn’t answer at first. He wanted to transform immediately and head out, but didn’t want to draw suspicion to himself. Finally, he sighed, “Fine. 10 minutes, but if I don’t hear from you…”
“You will. Just relax.” Félix muttered as the phone went silent once again. Adrien turned, leading against a nearby wall as he debated his choices: Stay and wait or transform and go.
Rocking back and forth on his feet, Adrien looked at his phone making his decision to leave when an Akuma alert blasted from it nearly sending him toppling over.
Silently cursing the timing, Adrien glared as Plagg hovered in front of him.
“Maybe it’s connected?” Plagg grinned, shrugging his shoulders. Rolling his eyes at his Kwami, Adrien called on his transformation before jumping out the window.
***
Argos
The fencing hall was too quiet.
Argos’s boots echoed off the floor as he crossed the threshold, his cloak catching faint sunlight through the high windows. Everything was pristine, maybe even a little too pristine. But the silence felt unnatural. There was no sound of clashing foils, no casual conversation, no Kagami giving pointed critiques from center stage.
He scanned the room. Empty benches. Abandoned bags. A sketchbook, half-open.
As he stepped into the room, a soft crunch echoed under his feet. Furrowing his brows, Argos looked down and stopped when he noticed a black vase, tipped on its side, leaking dark water across the lacquered floor. The flowers, purple and cut too perfectly were spread around the area.
He crouched, gloved fingers brushing across a nearby card. Ink bled along the edges, where someone had hastily scribbled a message.
Pretty things break the easiest…
Especially when they don’t know they’re being watched.
He turned it over. No name. Nothing to give away its author, but the intent was loud enough.
His eyes flicked around the room once more, noticing Marinette’s bag—toppled, half unzipped—laying on a nearby bench.
Standing, he moved towards the center of the room, trying to piece together what happened. There were no signs of a struggle, no blood, just a fallen vase of flowers and a note.
Taking in more of the room, Argos moved toward the far wall and froze.
Scrawled across the concrete in jagged black paint was another message.
She took him from me…
So I took her from you.
Some things are better when they break.
His chest constricted. Whoever had done this hadn’t acted blindly.
He raised his fan and opened it to the applications, which he rarely used. Sighing again, he moved around the room, taking photo after photo. The flowers, the note, the message on the wall. Even Marinette’s abandoned purse. This wasn’t a random attack, this was calculated, planned even.
A sudden vibration buzzed through his fan and a message flashed across the screen.
Akuma. Downtown.
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temple. No Marinette meant no Ladybug.
Chat would be left alone to fight whatever the Akuma was. If whomever had taken the girls didn’t know Ladybug’s identity, then this was way too big of a coincidence to ignore.
He snapped his fan shut as he strode out of the room. He didn’t know how he could explain Ladybug’s no show without risking Marinette’s identity, but he knew if Ladybug wasn’t coming… someone had to.
***
Chat
Screams echoed between buildings as the Akuma rampaged through the Quartier Latin.
People ran in every direction, their faces warping — flickering between strangers, friends, and monsters. Smoke coiled through the streets, but the flames it rose from weren’t real. Buildings collapsed and then stood again. Every corner was a trap, every alley a stage.
Chat Noir landed in the middle of it all.
"Great," he muttered, eyes narrowing as he flicked his baton to full length.
Illusions. Everything was illusions. Fake fires. Fake citizens. Even a sobbing child that shimmered into ash when he reached for them.
He spun to find five more people behind him — none of them blinking. One of them had Marinette’s face.
“No,” he snapped, hurling himself forward, cutting through the image. The illusion shattered like glass. She wasn’t there. Frustration hit him as he opened his baton, calling Ladybug, growling softly when her voicemail picked up.
“Bug? You out there? We got an akuma and well, I have other pressing matters to attend to.”
He glanced around, looking for any sign she was there, or on her way, any noise. She always came, even if she was late. She always showed up.
He tried again and was once again met with her voicemail.
“C’mon. Where are you?” he asked the empty air. “Just give me a sign.”
His grip tightened on the baton. His ears twitched, feeling uneasy.
He ducked just in time, a black tendril lashed past his head, coiling around a lamppost before vanishing into mist. The akuma rose out of the street like a ghost, ten feet tall with no features, just a mirror where a face should’ve been and a mirror in what Chat thought could possibly be the akuma’s hand.
“You wear masks,” the Akuma whispered in multiple voices. “So, I give you more.”
He moved like liquid, flaring outward in a smear of false limbs and splitting shadows. Chat swore under his breath and lunged, spinning his baton like a shield, sweeping through illusion after illusion.
Everything shimmered. He couldn't tell real from fake. Civilians warped and twisted, all of them screaming, sobbing, reaching for help.
One looked like Kagami, then Ladybug, then Argos and finally, Marinette again.
Swiping the air, Chat growled again, shaking his head. No. Stop. Focus.
He slammed his baton down, shattering the street beneath him. The images trembled but didn’t vanish.
"Ladybug," he said quietly, not into his baton, but to the air this time. "Where are you?"
Another illusion surged forward. This time, it was her— Ladybug, red and black, wide-eyed and smiling.
But, then she turned, and it wasn’t her.
He sliced through it with a growl.
He had to end this now. Fast. Then get eyes on Marinette. Something was wrong — he felt it in his chest, coiled like wire around his ribs.
The air shimmered again, and he closed his eyes briefly, a silent plea, before something blue streaked across the rooftop above.
Argos dropped beside him with barely a sound. He didn’t speak, just nodded as the two moved in tandem — Chat vaulted forward, baton sweeping low; Argos darted around the other side, his fan flashing with calculated strikes. Every illusion the villain tried, they tore through it. Together, they cornered the akuma beneath the bell tower on Rue Galande.
"Mirror's cracking," Chat growled. "Better come out and face us for real."
The akuma snarled before launching another wave of false Ladybugs, hundreds of them pouring into the street.
Sighing, the two of them shared a glance before Argos raised his fan. “I’ll handle the duplicates,” he murmured coolly.
Chat nodded, eyes dark and hooded.
“One shot,” he whispered. "No more distractions!"
He lunged forward while the akuma had eyes on Argos, grabbing the handheld mirror, throwing it to the floor and sending the butterfly floating above. The illusions screamed and dissolved, burning away like mist in sunlight.
Whispering Cataclysm, Chat reached up and caught the dark butterfly turning it into ash.
As the victim reverted back to themself, Paris became still again. Chat glanced around feeling nervous. As Argos stepped beside him, chest rising and falling, Chat’s eyes swept the rooftops.
She didn’t come,” Chat said, voice low.
Argos stood still beside him, his fan folding with a soft snap. “I noticed.”
Chat Noir crouched on the rooftop edge, the last echoes of the battle still ringing in his ears. The street below was a quiet ruin of illusions — melting into reality like half-remembered dreams. His fingers curled around his baton, tense. Too quiet.
“She’s never this late,” he muttered. “Even when she is, she calls. She always calls.”
Argos stood a few paces behind him, the breeze tugging at his coat. His fan was folded, held like a closed blade in one gloved hand.
“Not every absence means catastrophe,” Argos said evenly, though his jaw was locked tight.
Chat turned, studying him. “That’s a bold claim, considering you just helped me fight a walking hallucination.”
Argos didn’t reply.
Instead, he stepped forward slowly, gazing at the rooftops, the skyline, the city still simmering beneath their feet. He looked like a man trying not to sprint.
“Tell me, how did you know about akuma… isn’t it Ladybug’s rule, no movement on them without her direct approval?” Chat titled his head as he glanced over at Argos, desperate to get more information, but at the same time escape.
Argos scoffed, “I got the same notice as you and unlike the rest of them, Alley Cat, I don’t like to follow ‘rules’”
Chat rolled his eyes before turning back to look at the other holder, “Okay, then why were you late?”
Argos’ eyes narrowed a fraction, and Chat felt it — that razor-thin line between curiosity and confrontation. “Why be on time? Not like it matters, we beat it, even without your ‘Lady’s’ help.”
“Look,” Chat said, voice quieter now. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just—something about all of this feels wrong. Off. And if you know something...”
“I don’t,” Argos said smoothly. “Not enough to matter yet.”
“That’s not a no.”
“It’s also not a yes.”
Chat glared at him. “You’re dancing around something.”
“I’m being strategic. There’s a difference. When it involves you, stray, then you’ll know.” Argos turned to walk away when Chat sighed, “Wait.”
Argos rolled his eyes as he turned back to Chat, shaking his head in annoyance, “I’m busy.”
“I can tell, listen, I wasn’t going to say anything, but clearly that won’t work. On my way to the akuma, I ran into Adrien Agreste. Obviously, you know who that is.” Chat raised his eyebrows.
“Obviously… and let me guess, my cousin informed you about his nonresponsive girlfriend.”
“And yours. He asked me to check it out, said you were already doing so… so I ask you again, do you know something?” Chat moved, putting his baton behind his back.
Argos groaned, “I’ve already started looking… I’ve been to the school already.”
“Okay,” Chat shook his head as if telling Argos to continue, “And… let me guess they aren’t there?”
“No. Okay, no, they aren’t. I got the akuma alert when I was at the school, things were… lets just say not right. Looks like… maybe someone wanted them out of the way. Question is… why them?”
Chat went silent. He didn’t want to give away his own feelings, much less his identity, but that was the question burning a hole in his pocket.
Why Marinette?
She wasn’t flashy. She didn’t draw attention to herself. The only thing she had going for her — besides being brilliant, kind, and frustratingly brave — was that she was connected to a lot of people.
Too many people.
He swallowed. “You think this akuma was related?”
Argos shook his head. “No. Wrong pattern. The illusions were noise. A cover, maybe. Or just… a convenient distraction.”
“But a distraction from what?” Chat asked.
Argos looked at him, something steely in his gaze. “That’s what I intend to find out.”
He turned to go, but paused at the edge of the rooftop, looking back. “You tell Adrien something for me?”
Chat blinked. “What?”
“Tell him to stay put. He’ll just get in the way right now.”
Chat’s brow lifted. “You planning on telling everyone how to worry?”
Argos rolled his eyes. “Only the ones who matter.”
“You’ll let me know if you find anything?” Chat asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Argos gave him a sharp look. “Don’t get your tail twisted. You’ll know if it becomes your problem.”
He turned, stepping lightly across the rooftop before stepping off and into the darkness.
Chat watched him leave, annoyance settling deep in his chest. He knew Argos didn’t really trust him, but the idea he would keep things from him like this irritated him greatly.
Nodding to himself, Chat decided maybe it was time to check out the school himself.
****
The shadows had lengthened by the time Chat Noir touched down on the school steps.
Even before his boots hit the stone, something felt… wrong. Everything made his cat senses go crazy as he stepped forward slowly.
As he went inside, the smell hit first. The faint chemical sweetness of old perfume, something artificial, and possibly bleach. He pushed the door further open, slipping into the room as his footsteps echoed.
Annoyance rattled his nerves as he noticed him.
Argos stood near the far wall, one hand tucked behind his back, the other loose at his side. His head turned just enough to register Chat’s arrival.
“You just can’t take a hint, can you?” Argos muttered without looking at him.
Chat ignored the bite. “You said you’d already been here,” he said quietly, stepping closer.
“I had,” Argos replied, tone clipped. “Just came back to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the wall — where a faint smudge of paint still clung to the concrete, nearly scrubbed clean. Just above it, there was the ghost of something written… something dark. “What I found was enough.”
Chat followed the look, heart pounding. “Was it them?”
Argos didn’t look back as he hummed in response.
Chat stepped further in, eyes moving quickly taking in the whole room. Nothing seemed particularly out of place until he noticed Marinette’s bag lying on a bench at the opposite side of the room.
He didn’t move toward it, instead he turned glaring at Argos. “You knew before the Akuma fight.”
Argos shrugged. “Didn’t think it concerned you.”
Chat turned his head sharply. “It does now.”
Argos glanced at him sideways, eyes narrowed. “Right. Because Adrien asked you to check in.”
“Exactly,” Chat said, too fast. “And if someone targeted them, I want to know why.”
Argos sighed and he started moving across the room towards Marinette’s bag. “I don’t think this was random. Whoever did it… knew what they were doing.”
Chat swallowed. His hands curled slightly at his sides. “You think it was connected to the Akuma?”
“No,” Argos said flatly, reaching out and picking up the bag. “That was chaos. This? This was… intimate… personal.” He turned his head back to the wall. “This was about them. Someone wanted them for a reason… and I intend to find out why.
Chat’s jaw tightened. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
Argos didn’t respond right away, just let his eyes wander around the room before he let out a deep breath and tossed the bag, which Chat caught.
“They were targeted. Before you came, I cleaned up a bit. There was a note… directed to someone, the question is who? The girls… Me? Adrien…” Argos glanced at Chat, “Or maybe you?”
Argos crossed the room, opening his fan as he went to show Chat the photos. As the two of them swiped through the collection, fear was starting to grip them.
***
Marinette
The air was stale, too stale like something was sucking all the air from the room. Somewhere overhead, a faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzed like a fly trapped in glass.
Marinette sat against a wall in what looked like an old storage room, hard floors, steel shelves, with crates stacked almost like a barrier trapping them. Across from her, arms holding her knees to her chest, Kagami sat, silent and alert. Her eyes said everything her mouth had not.
They hadn’t spoken more than a few words since they had awoken because from what they could tell, they weren’t alone.
While there were no guards, both girls could see the light blinking of a camera in the far corner of the room. Watching and waiting.
Marinette desperately wanted to transform and get them both out of there, but she had yet to find Tikki, nor did she want her secret exposed. She couldn’t even ask Kagami about Longg in case someone was there just on the other side of the screen.
She met Kagami’s eyes, and a tiny nod passed between them.
Kagami shifted letting her legs slide down across the hard floor.
“You see that blinking light?” She called, not afraid of letting someone hear her, “We’re being watched.”
Marinette forced a sigh, masking the way her heart was hammering. “Yeah, it’s real cozy… it’s giving ‘kidnapper tries for ambiance but forgets the hospitality’ vibes. Maybe a blanket… pillow or two would be nice.”
Kagami snorted before giving her a look — subtle, a little disapproving, but appreciative. Humor was a distraction, and distractions were useful right now.
As she glanced around the room, taking in anything they could use to escape, a flicker of red darted between two crates. Marinette didn’t react, but she knew what she seen. Tikki was there, probably hiding in case there was more than just camera’s watching.
A sliver of warmth hit her all at once, with Tikki nearby, at least they had a chance. Glancing up at Kagami, she let out another sigh, this time drawing her friend’s attention.
“Oh! I just remembered, I was supposed to remind you to grab that bracelet your mother got you out of your locker. The one with the little red dragon?” Marinette tilted her head leaning back against the wall again.
Kagami groaned softly, “I thought I did… but it may have gotten left behind… I may need to look for it though… it’s important to me.”
Nodding, Marinette glanced around before adding, “I’ll help you look for it when we get out of here.”
Closing her eyes briefly, Marinette tried to understand what exactly had happened.
She hadn’t seen anyone before they went down, just the flowers… the card and then blank.
This was definitely planned and whomever was behind it, Marinette knew it wouldn’t end the way they wanted it to… it was only a matter of time.
A sudden click broke the silence, forcing Marinette to open her eyes, sharing a look with Kagami.
Both girls stiffened slightly as a burst of static cracked to life from an unseen speaker, somewhere above them.
“Well, well… you’re awake.”
Marinette felt the hair on her arms stand on it. While the voice was masked, the smug satisfaction beneath it was unmistakable.
“I was starting to think you two would sleep the whole show away. That would’ve been such a waste.”
Kagami didn’t move, her expression unreadable. Marinette kept her breathing steady, but her mind raced.
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here. Or maybe you’re wondering who I am. That’s sweet. Like it matters.” The voice laughed—low, syrupy, taunting. “The real question is: how much can a person take before they break?”
Marinette’s nails dug into her palm.
“But don’t worry,” the voice cooed. “I don’t need answers yet. I just want to watch.”
The speaker clicked off.
Kagami exhaled slowly, her posture relaxing by the smallest fraction. “They enjoy monologuing,” she murmured under her breath.
“Classic villain behavior,” Marinette muttered back. “A little flair, no hospitality, and they talk too much.”
Kagami allowed herself a short, huffed laugh.
Chapter 2: Day Two – The Search Continues
Summary:
Day two of the girls being missing
Chapter Text
Chat & Argos
The sky was starting to glow with the faint rays of light. There had been too many hours of chasing nothing. Chat paced across the rooftop, boots hitting the stone with too much weight.
“Nothing. There’s no footage, no witnesses. It’s like they just vanished into thin air. How could someone take two girls and leave nothing behind!” Chat growled, his claws flexing in front of him.
Argos didn’t respond at first. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching the horizon like it owed him an answer. He chewed his lip as he bit back whatever smart remark he wanted to make instead sighing, “They didn’t vanish… someone make sure they couldn’t be found.”
“Yeah, well,” Chat muttered, rolling his eyes, “they did a great job.”
He smacked his baton down on the rooftop.
Argos exhaled sharply through his nose. “I told you this wasn’t random. You’re wasting time treating like a random Akuma fallout.”
“I’m wasting time? Me?” Chat’s voice rose teetering on the edge of breaking. “You were the one playing games earlier. You knew, and you didn’t say anything… you weren’t even going to, but Adrien got to me first.”
“I didn’t know what I knew,” Argos shot back, finally turning to face him. “Just that something was wrong. And unlike you, I don’t leap into things blind. Just because my cousin has faith in Ladybug’s pet doesn’t mean I do.”
Chat growled under his breath and turned away again, dragging his hand down his face. There was no use fighting between them, Chat knew it, but Argos just had a habit of getting under his skin. He leaned against a nearby chimney, tilting his head and eyeing Argos with annoyance.
“Okay, Argos… they could be anywhere at this point,” He snapped, “We don’t know what we’re looking for, or who. There was nothing left behind besides some cryptic trash on a wall. Maybe if I’d been faster, I’d have noticed, I should’ve…”
“Stop,” Argos said. It wasn’t cold, not this time, just firm and a little pointed.
Chat froze in his rambling and looked up meeting Argos’ eyes.
“This isn’t about what you should’ve done,” Argos continued, his voice low. “It’s about what we do next.”
Chat dropped into a crouch, burying his face in his hands.
“They matter to us,” he muttered, “And we don’t’ matter to the person who took them, not even enough for a clue… so where does that leave us?”
Argos furrowed his brow as he watched Chat mutter to himself.
“I’m going to go back over everything… you want to help… start thinking like someone who wants to hurt them, or hurt those around them.”
Chat looked up, mouth pinched, “What kind of person would plan this? Who would hate one or both of them that much?”
Argos’ eyes darkened as he sighed, “That’s what scares me… get in touch with Adrien, maybe he can help you… because the list of people who hate Marinette Dupain-Cheng… it’s longer than you might think.”
Argos moved, jumping from the roof as the sun rose leaving Chat staring after him. The uneasiness settled into his stomach, something fierce.
***
Adrien
The room was cold as Chat Noir landed softly through his bedroom window. With a quiet grunt, he dropped his transformation in a flicker of green light and stumbled forward.
The moment he crossed the room, exhaustion hit him like a wave. He hadn’t stopped moving all night — chasing leads, shadowing rooftops, doubling back to the school and fencing hall, only to find nothing. Again.
No Marinette. No Kagami. No trail worth following.
He dropped onto the edge of his bed, thrusting both hands through his hair in frustration.
Between the Akuma attack and Argos being cagey with details, Adrien felt like he’d wasted precious time — time the girls didn’t have. Time someone had stolen.
He lay back for a moment, trying to clear the pressure building behind his eyes, but his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. He hesitated before pulling it free.
The screen was lit up with a flood of missed calls and unread texts. His heart ached as he opened it.
Tom. Sabine. Félix. Over and over.
He pressed play on the first voicemail from Marinette’s father and let it play through the speaker as he lay staring at the ceiling.
“Hey Adrien, it’s Tom. It’s getting a little late and while Marinette’s usually pretty responsible… it’s a little weird we haven’t heard from her. Please let us know.”
He closed his eyes. Guilt rolled through him turning his stomach into knots.
The next message was shakier, more strained.
“Hi Adrien, it’s Tom again. I… I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s been a while now and no one’s heard anything from her. I, uh… called the police, but they said it hasn’t been long enough. That she’s probably just with friends…please, just call if you know anything.”
Adrien’s breath hitched as the final message played. The voice was soft and unsteady.
“Adrien… it’s Sabine. Please call me.”
He didn’t realize the tears had started until one slid down his cheek and disappeared into the pillow.
For a long minute, he lay still. This was one call he desperately didn’t want to make, but with a quiet, resigned breath, he sat up again and dialed the bakery’s number with shaking fingers.
One ring.
Two.
“Hello?” Sabine’s voice answered. Strained. Tired. A little hopeful.
“Ms. Cheng?” Adrien’s voice cracked on the whisper.
“Oh god, Adrien. It’s you—”
There was a muffled shout in the background: “Tom! Honey! Adrien’s on the phone!”
She came back on, voice wobbling with restrained emotion. “Dear, is Marinette with you? We’re not angry if—”
“No,” Adrien said quickly. “I haven’t… I haven’t seen or heard from her since yesterday afternoon. She and Kagami were at fencing practice. I—” he swallowed, eyes burning, “—I ran into Chat Noir later. He said he’d look into it. I’ve been waiting to hear something.”
There was silence on the other end before there was a quiet hiccup.
“You… you don’t know anything either?”
Adrien bit his lip, hating himself for the lie. “I lost my phone; I just found it again. I would’ve called sooner, I promise. I’ve been looking for her.”
Sabine’s voice went thick with emotion. “She didn’t even pack a bag. Her toothbrush is still here. Her favorite sweater.” A pause. “She would’ve called.”
“I know,” Adrien whispered. “I know.”
“I just want her home,” she said. “Even if she’s angry. Even if it was just a misunderstanding. I just want her home.”
Adrien’s heart ached like it was being twisted in two. He closed his eyes as he leaned back on his bed one more time before whispering, “We’ll find her, I promise.”
***
Marinette
The air was colder than before. Marinette wasn’t sure if it was the temperature or just her nerves, raw and worn from waiting. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint buzz of the ceiling light and the occasional shifting of Kagami’s shoes against the concrete.
Kagami was the first to speak, her voice barely above a whisper, casual enough to slide under any watching ears.
“Do you remember that final exam in Civics? The one where we had to list our biggest influences?”
Marinette blinked at her, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I picked my uncle. You?”
Kagami didn’t miss a beat. “I picked my fencing instructor. She always told me to trust my footwork.”
Marinette narrowed her eyes before nodding, letting the coded meaning settle. Stay quick on your feet.
Before she could reply, the ceiling light flickered — just once — but it was enough to make both girls tense. Kagami straightened slightly. Marinette’s fingers curled against the floor.
A voice crackled to life, sharp and distorted over a speaker hidden somewhere in the room.
“You know, I used to think you were smart, Marinette.”
Marinette’s stomach dropped.
The voice was calm, female, and warped slightly by a filter—but there was a strange familiarity to the cadence. The lilt at the end of each sentence. The smugness.
“But now I think you’re just… lucky. Always landing on your feet, always barely slipping away. That luck? It’s time it’s run out.”
Kagami shifted closer to Marinette, her body angled protectively, her fingers subtly brushing the floor behind her — counting crates, mapping space.
The voice continued, too satisfied with itself.
“I wonder how long before someone even notices you’re missing. You’re not exactly the center of attention. I mean, besides him, of course.”
The room went silent for a moment before a faux-thoughtful hum. “Oh well. Time will tell.”
The speaker clicked off with a sharp pop. Silence fell again — but the lights didn’t stop flickering now. They pulsed at uneven intervals, just enough to fray the edges of comfort, to make time feel warped and slow.
Marinette stared at the far wall, jaw clenched.
“She doesn’t know,” she whispered.
Kagami turned toward her, eyebrow raised.
“She’s guessing. If she knew who we were, she’d be using it. She’d be gloating, threatening to expose us, but she didn’t.”
Kagami nodded slowly, piecing it together. “Which means,” she said, voice low, “we still have time.”
Marinette’s eyes flicked toward the crates, her voice dropping to a whisper as she shifted a bit closer.
“I saw Tikki earlier. She’s hiding — probably waiting for a moment when we’re not being watched.”
Kagami didn’t show surprise, only adjusted her posture slightly. “Good. I haven’t seen Longg. But if he’s here too... they’re waiting for the same thing we are.”
Marinette nodded, a quiet spark of hope rekindling in her chest.
She let her eyes scan the room again, more deliberately this time. The camera in the corner still blinked, steady and red. The crates near the far side of the room were stacked unevenly — and one had a corner pried open slightly, like it had been rushed.
Her gaze drifted downward. A faint line of scrape marks marred the concrete near the baseboards. Almost like something had been moved recently.
Kagami’s right. They still had time. And they couldn’t waste it.
Without turning her head, Marinette spoke softly. “Remember when we had to map out escape routes during the safety drills?”
Kagami smiled faintly. “I was better at the theory than the practice.”
“Well…” Marinette shifted her weight subtly. “Consider this our practical exam.”
From somewhere in the shadows, barely perceptible, a soft rustle of something echoed.
Marinette smiled, nodding at Kagami.
***
Argos
The wind bit at his coat, cold and sharp despite the midday glare. Argos sat perched on the lip of a narrow rooftop, the city breathing beneath him. Horns honked in the distance. Paris carried on, utterly unaware that two girls had vanished into thin air.
He rolled the polaroid-style printouts between his fingers again, creased from overhandling. A string of still images he’d ripped from the school hallway camera — grainy, high-contrast, useless. Kagami and Marinette laughing. Walking. A few minutes later: nothing. Just their bags. And flowers.
Argos hated loose ends.
His phone buzzed against his thigh — he ignored it.
He’d already searched the fencing studio. Already bribed someone to pull the raw footage. Already looped back over his steps three times. There was no forced entry. No sound. No one visible in the frame. Just the girls... and then not.
He pulled one of the prints up again. The last shot. A blur of purple near the floor beside the door. It hadn’t stood out at first.
But now he stared at it like it owed him something.
"Flowers," he muttered to himself. "Why flowers?"
“Because someone wanted us to see them.”
Argos didn’t flinch at the voice. Chat Noir landed beside him, crouched low on the rooftop. His baton clicked softly as he adjusted his balance.
“I assume you weren’t just up here to brood,” Chat added.
Argos handed him the photo without looking over. “This was left behind. Looks like they were delivered, dropped and left. Along with the note and the painted message.”
Chat studied it in silence. His eyes narrowed.
Argos turned just enough to catch the moment recognition clicked into place.
“You recognize them,” he said.
Chat leaned closer, brows drawn. “They’re lilacs.”
Argos waited, expectant, before Chat sighed as if something registered, “Lila.”
Argos straightened in his chair. “As in—”
“As in Lila Rossi. It’s not just a flower. It’s her name.” Chat looked back at him. “You think that’s a coincidence?”
Argos blinked. “You think she’s behind this?”
“I think,” Chat said slowly, “that someone wants us to chase a name — or a memory. And leaving lilacs? That’s not an accident. That’s a message. Her name literally means lilac… and she hated Marinette. Disappeared months ago… no one knows where she went.”
Argos sat back, staring out at the skyline. “So, it’s deliberate.”
Chat stood, pacing a little along the rooftop edge. “Lilacs are out of season. You’d have to ask for them specifically. A florist might remember who ordered them.”
Argos tucked the photo back into his coat. “Then we go ask.”
Chat paused, casting a glance his way. “You really think someone like Lila would let us catch up so easily?”
Argos’s voice was cold and steady. “I don’t care if she’s three steps ahead. I just need one opening.”
Chat didn’t argue.
The wind kicked up again, sweeping across the city with floating leaves.
This Lila person, if it was here, didn’t know him and she didn’t know he wasn’t going to stop.
***
They’d been to three florists already.
Three cheerful shops filled with soft jazz, dried lavender, and way too many questions they couldn’t answer without sounding unhinged.
No luck.
The fourth florist had a bell that jingled mockingly when they walked in.
Chat Noir stood beside Argos near the counter, arms folded tight, jaw clenched. His usual charm was gone — he’d barely smiled since they started. The only thing keeping him upright was adrenaline and sheer fury.
The woman behind the counter gave them a patient, curious smile. “Can I help you?”
Argos pulled out the photo again and placed it gently on the counter. “We’re looking for whoever ordered these. Lilacs. Special order. Within the last two days.”
The woman frowned, leaning closer. “Lilacs? That’s... unusual. They’re not in season.”
“We’re aware,” Chat muttered.
She tapped a finger to her chin, thoughtful. “I haven’t had any requests for them recently. You might try Fleur de Nuit’s on Richard-Lenoir — they sometimes import out-of-season flowers. A bit of a flower snob, really.”
“Thank you,” Argos said briskly.
They stepped out into the street again, heat bouncing off the pavement. The city was too loud, too bright. Argos’s coat felt too heavy. Chat Noir exhaled sharply beside him, pacing a little as he muttered something under his breath.
Argos shoved the photo back into his pocket. “You know, if you’d stop looking like a walking panic attack, we might get more answers.”
Chat’s eyes snapped to him. “Sorry I’m not as practiced at emotional detachment as you are.”
“I’m not detached. I’m focused.”
“You’re cold.”
“I’m efficient.”
“Efficient doesn’t help them if we’re chasing dead ends!” Chat’s voice was sharp now. “What if we’re wrong? What if this is just another one of her games? What if they’re already—”
“Don’t,” Argos cut in, voice low. “Don’t say it.”
They stood there, chest to chest, frustration thick between them, before Argos growled and turned on his heel. “I need a second.”
Without waiting, he stepped into a quiet alley, detransformed, pulled out his phone, scrolled to Adrien and hit call.
It rang. Once. Twice. Three times before voicemail.
Félix exhaled slowly, then hissed into the phone, “Tell why you thought it was a good idea to partner me with a grief-stricken superhero in spandex.”
He leaned against the wall, knuckles white where they gripped his phone.
“He’s panicking. He’s irrational. He nearly took my head off in the last florist and I’m the only one actually using my brain. This isn’t a search, it’s emotional roulette.”
His voice dropped lower. “…We’re following lilacs like they’re breadcrumbs in a fairy tale. And I don’t know what scares me more — that it’s a trap, or that it’s not.”
He stared up at the strip of sky between the buildings, jaw tight.
“So…You owe me for this,” he hissed. “I’m babysitting the world’s most emotionally unhinged house cat while your girlfriend is missing. If I don’t kill him, I’m going to strangle myself with his tail. Just thought you should know.”
Félix stood there for a moment longer, trying to breathe through the heat climbing up his neck before transforming again, and walking back toward the sidewalk.
Chat Noir didn’t look at him when he returned. Just said, “Fleur de Nuit. Fifteen-minute walk.”
Argos nodded once. “Let’s go.”
They didn’t talk about the argument, but something in the way they walked now — side by side, eyes sharp, faster — said the storm had passed for the moment.
“We’re almost there,” Chat said, voice flat, glancing down at the map on his baton. “If this one says they haven’t seen anything, I swear I’m going to start interrogating potted plants.”
Argos didn’t laugh. He didn’t even talk, but the irritation on his face was enough. They were only minutes from the florist when Argos growled, “This is a waste of time. She wouldn’t use her real name. She’s not that stupid.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Chat snapped. “I’m not looking for Lila Rossi on a receipt. I’m looking for someone who ordered out-of-season lilacs to be delivered to a fencing studio less than twenty-four hours ago. That’s not subtle, that’s ego.”
Argos stopped short. “And you think ego narrows it down?”
“I think it gives us something,” Chat growled, whirling on him. “Unless you have a better plan than chasing the only actual lead we’ve gotten in hours—”
“Besides running in circles and getting lectured by a talking cat in spandex?” Argos bit back, too tired to restrain the edge in his voice. “No, no, this is wildly productive.”
Chat stepped forward, taller despite the slouch in his posture, tail twitching behind him. “You’ve had an attitude since the rooftop, and I’ve let it go because we’re both scared—”
“Don’t you dare say I’m scared.” Argos’s voice dropped dangerously low.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chat said, sarcasm thick, “is this just your charming personality then?”
Argos’s jaw locked. His eyes sparked. He turned abruptly and walked away, pulling his fan off his hip with shaking fingers as they approached the florist.
Fleur de Nuit was tucked beneath a crooked awning, its window half-steamed from the humidity inside. The bell over the door jingled softly as the boys stepped in, the scent of green stems and damp soil rushing to meet them.
It was small. Local. The kind of place with handwritten signs and a cat sleeping in a sunbeam near the register.
Chat Noir hovered by the door, uneasy among the fragile stems and petals. Argos moved forward first, shedding his usual aloof air for something more disarming.
A woman in her late sixties appeared from the back, wiping her hands on a floral apron. She blinked at them both.
“Can I help you?” she asked, with the tired patience of someone who’d worked through too many wedding orders.
Argos offered her a small smile and pulled out the photo. The zoomed-in grainy blur of lilacs sat front and center.
“We’re hoping you might recognize these,” he said. “Lilacs. Out of season. Someone had to special-order them.”
The florist adjusted her glasses, squinting. “Well, that’s not much to go on…”
Chat Noir stepped up beside him. “It’s important,” he said, voice low but firm. “Someone might be in danger.”
She glanced between the two heroes, lips pressed before looking again, this time slower. Her brow furrowed as she glanced up.
“I did have someone ask for lilacs last week,” she murmured. “Odd request. Took some effort to source them — I had to call in a favor with a friend in Nice.”
Argos leaned in. “Do you remember the customer?”
She nodded faintly, thinking. “Young woman. Maybe high school or university age. Dark hair. Pretty. But she wore sunglasses and a scarf — indoors.”
“Fake name?” Chat asked.
The florist nodded. “Gave the name Rosette. Paid in cash. Said it was for a ‘memorial display.’ Had very… specific instructions. Purple only. No white. And she wanted them boxed, not wrapped.”
Argos’s eyes narrowed. “Do you remember where she asked them delivered?”
The florist hesitated, then moved to a small clipboard near the register. “I normally don’t keep things this long, but the handwriting was odd, and I meant to check the address...”
She handed over a slip of paper.
Chat and Argos read it together.
Quai Jean Compagnon & Pont Nelson Mandel. Door with a red mark.
A jolt ran down Chat Noir’s spine.
Argos folded the paper. “She’s playing with fire.”
Chat looked at him. “Then let’s burn it all down.”
***
Marinette
The light overhead buzzed faintly, dimmer than before. Or maybe it only felt that way because the hours had dragged on without mercy. Marinette had lost count of how many times the light flickered. How many times she’d listened to the water through the wall.
No clocks. No windows. Just silence. And waiting.
Kagami sat cross-legged now, back straight despite the fatigue settling into her shoulders. Marinette leaned against the opposite wall, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the ache in her legs.
When the speaker crackled again, Marinette flinched, but Kagami didn’t move.
The same distorted, female voice returned, sweet as syrup and just as sticky.
“I thought about feeding you.”
There was a soft chuckle.
“But then again, you’ve both always been so resourceful. You’ll manage. Right?”
The speaker hissed faintly with ambient feedback.
“Honestly, I’m disappointed. I expected more fire. I’ve barely even gotten a whisper out of you two.”
Marinette clenched her fists in her lap, nails digging into her palms.
“Oh well,” the voice continued, almost sing-song. “Let’s try something else.”
There was a soft click on the speaker as audio began to play.
It was muffled at first, soon became unmistakable to the girls.
Tom and Sabine’s voices.
“…I’m just saying maybe we should try calling again. Adrien told us she was fine, that she just needed some space, but something doesn’t feel right—”
“Sabine, if Adrien said she was fine, maybe we should listen. Maybe she just… doesn’t want to be found right now.”
“I know my daughter, Tom. This isn’t her.”
The recording ended in static as Marinette stared at the speaker like she could rip it down with her thoughts. Kagami frowned before she spoke, “That wasn’t live.”
“I know.”
“She wanted us to believe it was.”
“I know.” Marinette’s voice broke just slightly. Enough for the voice to pick up.
“I used to wonder what it’d be like to be invisible. Forgotten. I guess now you get to find out.”
The speaker turned off with a click as Kagami exhaled slowly, before getting to her feet. She crossed the room and sat beside Marinette without a word. They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, a quiet solidarity in the dark.
Time passed, but neither of them knew how long it had been. Hours? Days?
At some point, the light above them dimmed further, casting long, stretched shadows along the concrete floor. There was no food. No water. The room itself was clean but bare, stripped of any sense of comfort or context. Marinette had tried counting seconds, breaths, pipe clicks — but even that started to blur so much it seemed like the room shifted in each moment.
Sometimes Kagami would stand, pacing, small steps in straight lines. Always precise. Always quiet. A form of control, maybe. Marinette couldn’t tell if it helped.
After a while they hear the speaker click again, then a sigh.
“Did you know your brain starts to lose track of time after about twenty-four hours of isolation? You think it’s been a day?” There was a laugh. “Two? More?”
Marinette didn’t answer, she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Kagami crossed the room again, quieter than before, and knelt beside Marinette. Her eyes were sharp as she whispered, “She’s trying to wear us down before she makes a move.”
“I know,” Marinette said tightly.
“You’re doing better than she expected.”
Marinette offered the smallest smile. “So are you.”
The speaker clicked again — but this time, no voice. No music. Just the faint, grainy sound of doors opening. Footsteps. Then, distinctly — a girl crying.
A new voice, high-pitched, echoing. “Please! I don’t want to—no—please!”
It cut off with a loud thunk causing Marinette to stiffen. Her eyes wide as she looked from the floor to Kagami. “Do you think—”
Kagami’s jaw flexed. “Fake. Or planted. She’s trying to force panic.”
Both girls knew it, deep down, but the ruse was effective.
Marinette could feel it. The psychological trap closing inch by inch.
It almost felt like the walls or maybe the floor was moving under pressure.
***
Chat & Argos
The florist’s door shut behind them with a soft click, the warm scent of flowers fading into the sharper tang of city air.
Argos stared down at the slip of paper in his hand, his thumb worrying the corner until it began to curl. The handwriting was precise but oddly stiff, as if the person who’d written it had to think about every letter.
Beside him, Chat Noir read over his shoulder, green eyes narrowing.
“Quai Jean Compagnon & Pont Nelson Mandel?” His tone was measured, but the tension in his jaw gave him away. “That’s not a residential street. That’s right by the Seine. Maybe warehouse?”
Argos nodded once, gaze still fixed on the words. “Maybe. There’s an old industrial building near the river — half condemned, half forgotten.”
Chat’s voice dropped lower. “You think that’s where she took them?”
“I think it fits her pattern,” Argos replied, finally folding the paper with deliberate care. “Abandoned, overlooked. No cameras. No foot traffic. The kind of place you could scream and no one would hear a thing.”
Chat’s tail lashed once, sharp and restless. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Before Argos could answer, the black cat vaulted onto the nearest rooftop, moving with without looking back.
Argos exhaled slowly, tucking the paper away. He jumped up on the roof top, using his fan for balance. He hated being left behind.
The sun was climbing now, but down in the alleys the shadows clung stubbornly, pooling between the buildings like ink. Quai Jean Compagnon stretched ahead of them like a scar across the city.
They moved across the rooftops without speaking, scanning every doorway for the promised red mark.
“I count seven buildings with fresh paint,” Chat murmured finally, his voice barely carrying. “Three look like squatters use them. Two are completely burned out.”
Argos stopped, lifting his chin toward the far end of the street. “There. North side. That mark’s fresh — no weathering. And look at the windows.”
Chat adjusted the zoom lens on his baton, squinting. “Plastic sheeting…”
“You’re sure?”
“I know what a sheeting looks like,” Chat mumbled, rolling his eyes.
“Whatever,” Argos’s mouth thinned into a line. “That’s got to be our door.”
The descent was quick but careful. Chat dropped first, claws scraping metal as he caught the gutter and swung down. Argos followed, hitting the ground with a muted thud.
Up close, the building’s steel door loomed over them, coated in years of paint and grime. Across the center, a wet red smear cut through the dull gray, as if someone had dragged their hand across it while walking past.
Chat reached out, brushing it lightly with one claw. It smudged. “Still tacky.”
“She’s here,” Argos said quietly.
“Or was.”
Argos withdrew a small, flat device from his coat, pressing it to the side of the lock. A faint blink of green, then a soft click as the deadbolt gave way.
“You carry a lockpick?” Chat asked, one brow raised.
“I carry a solution,” Argos corrected, pushing the door open a fraction.
The air inside was heavy — warm, but unmoving. No sounds except the muted groan of metal as the hinges gave way.
They slipped inside, their steps silent over the cracked concrete. Pale light leaked through plastic-covered windows in thin, dusty shafts, barely enough to see by.
Chat stopped first. “There.”
In the far corner sat a cot, low to the ground. Beside it, a table with a half-eaten apple. And in the center, a glass vase filled with lilacs.
Argos’s stomach turned cold. “She was here.”
Before they could move, a door deeper inside slammed hard enough to echo.
“Move,” Chat hissed, and they were running — boots pounding down the long, hollow space, their shadows stretching ahead of them in the slanted light.
The hall was narrow, lined with warped doors that hung ajar. They hit the stairs heading below just in time to hear footsteps retreating fast.
Chat vaulted over the banister without hesitation, landing two flights below. Argos followed, eyes scanning for anything.
They burst into a back corridor only to find it empty.
“She’s gone,” Argos said, his breath sharp.
“No—” Chat’s eyes scanned the walls, the corners. “She wanted us to find this. It’s too clean. Too staged.”
Argos crouched at an old box, fingertips brushing edge. Something was tucked beneath it.
A note. One line, typed.
So close. Try harder.
Argos’s lips pressed into a humorless smile. “She’s toying with us.”
Chat’s fists clenched. “Then let’s stop playing.”
Argos folded the note, slipping it into his coat. “Faster, then.”
Their eyes met — urgency stripping away the usual barbs.
Chat turned toward the exit. “We’re out of time.”
***
Marinette
The light hadn’t changed.
That weak, flickering bulb still cast the same dull cone over the center of the room, leaving the edges in shadow.
Marinette sat against the wall, arms wrapped tight around her knees, chin tucked down. She’d been counting the breaths between each flicker, trying to make the seconds stretch, to make the silence mean something other than waiting.
Kagami was pacing again — five precise steps forward, pivot, five back. A measured rhythm, more sword drill than restlessness. She didn’t look tired. She didn’t look anything.
Neither of them had spoken in… minutes? Hours? Time here didn’t move like it should.
Marinette ran her hands over her face, starting to think that exposing her identity might be worth it when a screen in the far corner of the room turned on.
There was static at first, hissing through the still air before:
Adrien.
It didn’t seem to be live, most likely a recording, but from when Marinette didn’t know.
His smile — soft, golden, that easy warmth that made the world feel gentler just by existing in the same space sat easily on his face as sunlight pooled across him through some window just out of frame, haloing him like it was trying to keep him.
Marinette’s heart stuttered.
“Hey,” Adrien said, voice casual, familiar, painfully real. “Just wanted to say… thanks. For everything. You’re such a good friend.”
Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her jeans. Must be an old recording.
“I hope you know how much I appreciate you,” he continued. “But… I think I need to be honest with myself. With you. I’ve been trying to ignore it for a while, but… I don’t feel that way about you. Not like that. I never did.”
Marinette felt the floor shift under her as she glanced at Kagami. The frame froze mid-smile, the light in his eyes caught like glass, before a different voice slid in, warped and sugared — the sound of a knife wrapped in silk.
“Oops. Did I hit play too soon?” she purred. “I was going to ease you into it. Let you build up hope first. That’s more fun to break.”
Kagami’s head snapped toward the speaker. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I already have what I want,” The voice said, sweet and sharp all at once. “You. Both of you. Out of the way. And cracked just enough that you won’t be trouble again.”
The screen shifted as another clip played.
Adrien again, this time in motion — walking down some Parisian street. The camera was too far for detail, but his hand was laced with someone else’s. A laugh, clear and bright, drifted through. He leaned closer to them, head tipped toward theirs in a way that made Marinette’s stomach twist as she closed her eyes unable to watch further.
“Adrien never loved you, Marinette,” The woman cooed. “You were a joke. A safe little fantasy to pass the time. And now? Now you’re just collateral damage.”
Kagami stepped forward sharply. “Turn it off.”
“Aw, don’t get all protective,” It replied, almost chipper. “You’re not the only one he rejected.”
The image changed again — an old fencing match. Adrien and Kagami, mid-bout. She lost. His offered hand. Her refusal. The look in her eyes like steel cooling in water.
“You thought you were different,” She went on, her tone almost pitying. “Both of you did. And now you’re exactly the same. Stuck. Forgotten. Replaceable.”
Marinette shook her head, the motion small. “He wouldn’t say that.”
“He did,” The voice slid in, too smooth, too sure. “He just didn’t say it to you.”
The clip snapped off, plunging them back into silence.
Marinette pressed her forehead to her knees. She knew it wasn’t real. Knew it was manipulation. But it had been his voice. His face. His warmth twisted into something cold. And the cruel part was… she could imagine him saying it. Not the Adrien she knew — but the one from her doubts. The one from all the times she thought maybe she’d misread everything.
Kagami eased down beside her, their shoulders nearly touching. “Don’t believe it,” she said quietly.
“I know,” Marinette whispered.
But the pause that followed was too long, and it didn’t sound like knowing at all.
***
Chat & Argos
They stepped out into the daylight again, the metal door clanging shut behind them. The street felt quieter than before, like even the air was holding its breath.
Chat paced a short line in front of the building, hands flexing like he couldn’t decide whether to punch something or climb the walls again.
“She’s laughing at us,” he said, voice low but sharp. “She left the vase, the note — she’s watching us. And we’re still a step behind.”
Argos checked his watch without looking up. “Then we take bigger steps.”
Chat spun toward him, tail snapping behind him like a whip. “Do you think I’m not trying? Because here’s the thing, Argos — I am. Every second we waste, I’m thinking about what she’s doing to them. And every second we waste, she gets more time.”
Argos’s eyes narrowed. “Losing your temper doesn’t make the clock move faster.”
“Neither does pretending you don’t care,” Chat shot back.
Argos’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to it — not fully. “Care is irrelevant. Results matter.”
“Tell that to Marinette when—” Chat cut himself off abruptly, grinding his teeth hard enough Argos could hear it.
For a moment, they just stood there, the space between them charged. Then Argos stepped past him, scanning the street. “We don’t have another address. No next lead. If she’s playing, then she’s going to leave another breadcrumb. We need to figure out where.”
Chat gave a humorless laugh, the sound flat. “Oh sure, let’s just wait for her to drop us another clue like good little mice.”
Argos stopped walking, turning halfway back toward him. “You got something better?”
Chat’s reply was almost a growl. “Yeah. I stop chasing her game, and I start breaking it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Chat said, starting toward the nearest rooftop access, “we flip the board. We stop looking for her and make her come to us.”
Argos followed reluctantly, already shaking his head. “That’s a good way to lose what little advantage we have.”
“That’s assuming we ever had one,” Chat muttered, leaping up and disappearing over the edge of the building.
Argos stared after him for a second, teeth set, before jumping up after him.
They crossed the rooftops in silence, the wind tugging at Chat’s hair and Argos’ coat. Below, the streets wound like veins, clogged with traffic and evening bustle — life moving on without knowing two people were missing.
Chat’s movements were sharper now, more force than finesse, claws scraping against the slate tiles as he vaulted gaps. Argos kept pace with clean, economical lines, each landing calculated.
Finally, Chat stopped on the edge of a high building overlooking the river. The water below looked black in the fading light, sluggish between its banks.
“She picked this place for a reason,” Chat said, staring at the warehouses. “It’s not random. She doesn’t do random.”
“No,” Argos agreed. “She does calculated misdirection.”
Chat looked over his shoulder, eyes bright and fierce. “Exactly. Which means there’s something here we missed.”
Argos’s expression didn’t change. “And stomping around here until she takes pity on you isn’t going to make it appear.”
That earned him a glare. “You think I’m just stomping around?” Chat’s voice was sharp, his tail flicking in irritation. “I’ve been reading the streets since we got here. There are only two ways she could have gotten out without us seeing her.”
Argos’s mouth twitched in faint impatience. “You’re assuming she left alone.”
Chat froze. “…Meaning?”
Argos adjusted his grip his fan. “Meaning she could have had someone waiting. A car. A bike. Hell, a boat. You’ve been thinking like a solo hunter when this is probably a pack.”
Chat’s hands curled into fists. “Then we’ve wasted hours chasing the wrong trail.”
“No,” Argos corrected. “We’ve learned what she wants us to think. That’s useful.”
Chat let out a frustrated sound, half growl, half sigh. “Useful doesn’t get them out of there faster.”
Argos looked at him evenly. “Neither does panicking.”
For a moment, Chat didn’t answer — just stared out over the water, his jaw working. Then he said, low, “If she touches a hair on her head—”
“She already has,” Argos interrupted quietly. “That’s the point.”
Chat’s head whipped toward him, but Argos was already walking toward the fire escape. “Come on. We’re not done here yet.”
They took the fire escape down in tense silence, boots ringing against the rusted steps. The air near the river was heavy with damp and a faint tang of oil.
Chat was the first to step onto the cracked pavement, his eyes scanning the shadows between the buildings like he was daring something to move.
“Left,” Argos said, already striding toward the narrow gap between two buildings.
“How do you—”
“There’s fresh tire tread,” Argos cut him off, pointing to the thin line pressed into the dirt at the alley’s mouth. “Light vehicle. Not a delivery truck. Someone stopped here recently.”
Chat followed, shoulders tight. “Could be anything.”
“Could be,” Argos agreed, crouching near the mark. “But… see this?” He tapped a small, perfect petal lodged in the tread’s groove. Purple.
Chat crouched beside him so fast their shoulders brushed. “Lilac.”
“She’s either predictable,” Argos said, rising again, “or arrogant enough to keep repeating herself.”
“Or both,” Chat muttered darkly.
They trailed the tracks until the alley opened into a small loading yard behind one of the newer warehouses. The tracks ended abruptly at the shadow of a large steel container near the water’s edge.
“Empty,” Argos murmured, running a hand along the rusted side.
“Or…” Chat crouched, peering beneath the container. Something thin and white was wedged into the frame near the back wheel. He reached for it and pulled out a small folded paper, already creased and smudged.
Argos took it from him without asking. He unfolded it, scanning the single typed line.
Tick tock. The river’s only so patient.
Chat’s claws scraped faintly against the paper as Argos held it. “She’s close,” he said. “Close enough to be watching.”
Argos’s gaze swept the rooftops and high windows ringing the yard. “Which means this was dropped here after we left the florist. She’s moving with us.”
“That,” Chat said, standing to his full height, “is a mistake.”
Argos held the note in his hand. “Then let’s make her regret it.”
They left the yard at a run, moving parallel to the river now, following the only logical route someone carrying captives could take without crossing the open streets. Every turn tightened the air between them — Chat’s jaw like stone, Argos’s eyes cold and fixed ahead.
Somewhere beyond the next bend, the game was waiting for them.
***
Marinette
The flicker of the light overhead was slower now, almost lazy, like it had grown bored of its own taunting. Marinette sat hunched against the wall, her back aching from the unyielding concrete. Kagami stood a few paces away, arms folded, watching the locked door with the kind of stillness that came before a strike.
The speaker crackled without warning.
“Oh, Marinette,” The voice oozed, syrupy and smug. “Still here? Still waiting for a boy who’s not coming?”
Kagami’s gaze snapped toward the corner where the sound bled in. “Ignore her,” she said.
“Oh, but why would she do that?” It purred. “She deserves to hear the truth. In fact, I brought you something special.”
The screen on the far wall blinked to life. Adrien again — but not the warm, laughing Adrien from Marinette’s memories. This Adrien was in motion, walking briskly through a street market, phone pressed to his ear. His voice came through tiny but clear:
“I told you before, it’s just friendship. She reads into everything. I can’t… deal with it right now.”
The image cut out abruptly, replaced by a satisfied hum.
“Poor thing,” she crooned. “Did you think he was out there turning the city upside down for you? He’s moved on. He’s free.”
Marinette’s hands clenched in her lap. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” The voice was bright, delighted. “Funny thing is, Adrien and I had a very similar conversation about you a while ago, Kagami. Oh, the things he said. That you were… intense. A little scary. That fencing was the only reason he tolerated you.”
Kagami didn’t flinch. “Fabrications.”
“Mmm, sure,” The voice said, feigning thought. “Though, I do have recordings. Would you like me to play them next?”
The screen flickered again — a still shot this time, Adrien at an event, smiling at someone just out of frame. The angle was close enough to suggest closeness.
“You’re both here because you can’t read the people you think you know best,” She went on. “That’s what makes this so fun. It’s not about breaking you physically. It’s about letting you sit with the possibility that maybe… he never cared the way you thought he did.”
The screen went black. The silence that followed pressed in thicker than the stale air.
Kagami finally moved, kneeling beside Marinette. “Don’t let her in.”
Marinette nodded, but the motion felt stiff, mechanical. She knew whomever this was, was trying to get under her skin. She knew none of it was real.
But that sliver of doubt kept creeping back into her head and the ground seems to shift again.
***
Chat & Argos
They stood in the empty loading yard, the note still burning in Argos’s hand.
Tick tock. The river’s only so patient.
Chat raked both hands through his hair, pacing sharp lines into the cracked pavement. His claws clicked faintly as they flexed. “She’s mocking us again. A clock, a river — what the hell are we supposed to do with that?”
Argos didn’t move. His gaze swept the yard, the tire treads, the faint drag marks near the container. “It’s not mockery. It’s direction.”
Chat spun on him. “Oh, great. So now we’re supposed to guess which way the riddles point before the timer runs out?”
“Not guess.” Argos crouched, brushing his glove against the dirt. His expression sharpened, calculating. “Interpret.” He held up his fingers, showing the faint smudge left behind. Damp. Black. “This isn’t warehouse grime. It’s river silt.”
Chat froze mid-step, tail flicking. “…You’re saying she’s on the water.”
“I’m saying she wants us to consider it,” Argos replied, standing. His eyes swept toward the Seine glinting dully beyond the buildings. “It’s the only controlled place she could hide something like two girls without attracting attention. Barges. Dredgers. Half the docks along this stretch are condemned.”
Chat’s chest heaved. His thoughts spun — Mari, Kagami, trapped, surrounded by water, cut off from the city. He ground his teeth hard enough his jaw ached. “If she’s really using the river, we don’t have time to search barge by barge.”
“Which means we narrow the list,” Argos said. Calm, but clipped. “We need fresh signs of activity. Movement. A vessel that shouldn’t be there.”
Chat growled low in his throat, then forced himself to nod. “Fine. Then we watch the water.”
The two of them climbed the yard’s fence in silence, boots hitting the riverside path. Barges loomed in the dusk, hulking silhouettes that rocked gently with the current. Most were dark, abandoned, their ropes sagging like cobwebs.
But somewhere out there, the girls were waiting, and the clock was running out.
Chapter 3: Day Three: The Rescue
Summary:
The Boys finally catch a break
Chapter Text
Chat & Argos
The river stretched wide and dark before them, sluggish under the weight of morning haze. Barges dotted the banks in hulking silhouettes — some tethered, some abandoned, most silent as tombs. They had watched most of the night, any movement. Any sign of ‘I’m here.’
Chat crouched on the lip of the embankment, eyes scanning the sluggish current. His claws flexed restlessly against the stone. “There are dozens of them,” he muttered. “Could take days.”
Argos stood at his shoulder, unruffled. “Not all are viable. Half of those are derelict shells. The city hasn’t cleared them because it doesn’t care what rots on the river’s edge.”
Chat’s tail lashed once. “Great. So we’re not just looking for a needle in a haystack — we’re looking for a needle in a haystack on water.”
“Calm down,” Argos said sharply. “You’re thinking like prey, not a hunter.”
Chat’s head whipped around. “Say that again.”
“I said,” Argos replied, unflinching, “stop reacting and start analyzing. If you were hiding captives, would you choose a barge in plain view of the busiest bridges? No. You’d choose one no one bothers with.”
Chat blew out a harsh breath through his nose but didn’t argue. His gaze tracked upriver. “Then we start there.”
They moved along the riverwalk in silence, shadows stretching long as the sun fought through the mist. Argos’s eyes flicked from ropes to tire tracks to the waterline itself, cataloguing details. Chat was faster, less precise, vaulting railings and rooftops, scanning for any sign of movement.
Finally, Argos stopped short. “Here.”
Chat doubled back, irritation sharp in his voice. “What now?”
Argos pointed. A narrow service dock jutted crooked into the water. Its wood was warped, but the ropes lashed around one cleat were new — nylon, bright against the rot.
Chat dropped into a crouch, tugging the end of the rope with his claws. Still taut. His heartbeat jumped. “Something’s moored here. Recently.”
Argos’s gaze swept the water. A dark barge squatted against the far bank, low and broad. From a distance it looked abandoned — rust streaking its hull, windows dark — but a faint tremor of smoke curled from one vent. Barely visible.
“There,” Argos said.
Chat’s pulse spiked. His claws bit into the stone. “Then let’s go.”
Argos’s hand shot out, catching his arm. “Not head-on. If she’s watching, she’ll expect you to rush in blind.”
Chat rounded on him, eyes blazing. “Every second we wait—”
“—is another second to not walk into a trap,” Argos cut in. His tone was icy, but his grip was firm. “You want them alive? Then stop charging like a fool.”
Chat jerked free, breathing hard. His tail lashed again, but he forced himself to look back at the barge. Smoke. New rope. Fresh tether. His chest ached with the need to leap now, claw through steel if he had to.
But Argos was right.
Grinding his teeth, Chat forced the word out. “Fine.”
Argos gave the faintest nod. “Then we plan.”
Chat flexed his claws against the stone ledge, itching to move. “We can’t sit here all day. If she’s in there, they’re in there.”
Argos’s gaze swept the length of the vessel. “It’s got to be rigged.”
Chat gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Of course it’s rigged. Everything she’s done so far has been one big performance. You want to stand here and clap for the encore, or actually do something?”
Argos ignored the jab. His eyes flicked from the main deck to the cabin windows, then down to the waterline. “Three points of entry. The boarding ramp, which will be watched. A cabin window, high risk of noise. Or—” His fan tapped lightly against the stone. “Underneath.”
Chat followed his line of sight. Dark water slapped softly against the hull. The underside of the barge vanished into shadow.
“You’re suggesting we swim?” Chat asked, his eyebrows raised.
“I’m suggesting we enter where she isn’t looking,” Argos replied coolly. “You can hold your breath, can’t you?”
Chat bared his teeth in something that wasn’t a smile. “Try not to sound too excited at the idea of drowning me.”
“If I wanted you drowned,” Argos said, perfectly flat, “you wouldn’t be standing here.”
For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the current sucking at the stones below. Then Chat snapped his baton into its extended form with a sharp click. “Fine. We go low, but not without the swim power up. You’re lucky I have more than one.”
Argos’s mouth twitched — not quite a smirk, but close as Chat tossed him a piece of Camembert.
“Cheese?”
“Shut up and eat it.”
They slid into the river without another word, the cold biting against their suits, but because of the power up, they were protected. Chat pushed forward, movements sharp and practiced. Argos followed with clean, minimal strokes, eyes locked on the shadow beneath the barge.
The water swallowed sound. Only their own breaths bubbled around them as they pulled themselves along the slick underside of the hull, searching for seams. Chat’s claws scraped lightly against steel until he found one — a maintenance hatch, small, half-rusted, almost invisible from above.
He tapped it once. Argos moved beside him, eyes narrowing. He took out his lockpick again and pressed it against the hull where the hatch groaned open a fraction.
Chat rolled his eyes before he shoved it wider, enough for them to slip inside.
The air was damp, stale, heavy with oil and rust. Chat pulled himself through first, dragging water across the steel floor, then reached back to help Argos in.
They crouched in near-darkness, only the faint hum of machinery filling the silence.
Chat’s voice was low, fierce. “We’re in.”
Argos’s reply was colder, quieter. “Then tread lightly. This is where the real game begins.”
***
Marinette & Kagami
The room swayed. Barely — so slight Marinette almost convinced herself she imagined it. A shift in the floor, a subtle groan of metal, like the whole place breathed in slow, aching movements.
Kagami noticed too. Her pacing slowed, one hand pressing briefly against the wall as if measuring the vibration. She glanced at Marinette and frowned.
The overhead light buzzed, then dimmed again. A beat later, the screen lit.
Marinette tensed instantly, knees drawing up to her chest. Kagami stepped in front of her without hesitation.
This time, no video. Just a voice.
“Oh, you’re still holding out hope?” It was soft, sweet, almost sing-song. “That’s adorable.”
Marinette’s throat tightened.
“You really think he’s coming for you?” the voice teased. “That Adrien — golden, perfect Adrien — is tearing through the city to rescue his precious girlfriend? Please.”
The walls seemed to lean closer.
The voice went on, savoring every word.
“He’s not thinking about you, Marinette. He’s not losing sleep over a girl who was never more than a convenient shoulder. He’s relieved. Don’t you feel it? That silence? It’s freedom.”
“Stop,” Kagami snapped. Her tone was iron, but her eyes flicked toward Marinette.
The voice chuckled low. “And you, Kagami. Did you really believe he respected you? You were nothing but a sparring partner. A test. Something to sharpen his blade against until he found someone softer. Easier.”
Her mind screamed it wasn’t real. But the seed was planted, curling like a thorn.
“He never loved you,” the voice whispered now, gentle, cruel. “Not you, Marinette. Not you, Kagami. And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
The speaker cut off leaving only the hum of machinery below.
Kagami crouched beside Marinette, close enough their shoulders brushed. Her voice was quiet, deliberate.
“Lies. Every word. Don’t give her what she wants.”
Marinette nodded, but her eyes stayed locked on the dark screen.
“I know,” she whispered.
But her heart thudded traitorously in her chest, heavy with the question she couldn’t quite kill:
What if… it was true? She’d already lied to Adrien. She knew deep down, she wasn’t enough.
***
Chat & Argos
The metal groaned faintly under their weight, the low, rhythmic sway of the river tugging at the floor beneath their boots. Every sound carried too far — the hiss of breath, the creak of rusted panels, the soft drag of fabric against steel.
Chat crouched low, tail flicking in uneasy arcs as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The narrow corridor was lined with storage crates, some stenciled with faded shipping codes, others stacked too neatly to be abandoned. He sniffed, catching the faintest trace of flowers beneath the tang of oil and iron.
“Lilacs,” he whispered. His claws flexed. “She’s been here.”
Argos scanned ahead, gaze sharp, fan half-extended in his hand. “Then we’re in the right place. But don’t get sloppy.”
“I’m not sloppy,” Chat snapped back, though his voice was lower than usual — strained, threaded with too much urgency.
“You’re loud,” Argos countered smoothly, already moving forward. “If she wanted noise, she’d welcome us at the door.”
They walked deeper into the barge, shadows shifting across their faces as light bled through cracks in the hull. Somewhere in the distance, water slapped rhythmically against metal — a steady metronome counting down time they didn’t have.
Chat’s ears twitched. “Hear that?”
Argos froze. Not footsteps. Not voices. A faint, distorted hum — tiny, like a speaker bleeding static through thin walls.
Both of them stiffened.
“She’s taunting them,” Chat muttered, fury threading through his words. “She’s talking to them right now.”
Argos’s jaw tightened, though his stride didn’t falter. “Then we stay invisible. She doesn’t know we’re inside yet. That’s our only advantage.”
They crept toward the sound, tension coiling tighter with every step.
Finally, the corridor opened into a broader chamber, the smell of flowers sharp now. On a table near the center sat another vase of lilacs, lit by a single swinging bulb. Next to it: a small speaker, crackling with faint laughter before it went quiet again.
Chat’s claws dug into his palms. “I’m going to tear that thing apart.”
“Not yet,” Argos said sharply, holding him back with a gesture. His eyes scanned the walls — faint seams in the paneling, a vent half-loosened, a camera’s dark lens glinting just above.
“She’s watching.”
Chat’s head snapped up, following his gaze. He bared his teeth, every muscle itching for release. “Then let her watch.”
Argos leaned in, voice low. “Control yourself. The second you tip our hand, she’ll vanish with them.”
For once, Chat didn’t argue — but his silence was jagged, dangerous, like glass under pressure.
The shadows thickened as they moved deeper, the low groan of metal shifting under their boots. Every step was accompanied by the subtle sway of the Seine beneath them, a reminder that this whole prison was afloat and very fragile.
The faint static from the speaker cut abruptly, before a voice, rolled out from the darkness.
“Took you long enough.”
The voice echoed in the steel chamber, syrupy-sweet and smug.
Chat and Argos froze.
At the far end of the room, a figure stepped into the cone of light cast by the swaying bulb. Her attire was sharp, violet and black etched into sleek, theatrical lines, her smirk painted in shadows. The glint in her eyes was sharper than her cane.
Chat shifted his baton, claws flexing, his whole body pulled taut. “You.”
Argos didn’t waste words. His fan snapped open with a soft shhk, the sound slicing through the stale air.
The figure tilted her head, almost coy. “Really? You thought I’d leave them here alone? I’ve been waiting. Watching.” Her gaze flicked to Chat, her smile widening like a blade. “You, especially. The desperate cat chasing scraps of hope. Pathetic. What is your fascination with her?”
Chat’s tail lashed, teeth bared.
“And Ladybug?” she added, feigning thought, tapping her cane against the floor. “Funny… I expected her. Instead… I find just you. And him.” She nodded toward Argos with disdain. “How curious.”
Her hand flicked, subtle but deliberate. The cane struck the floor with a resonant clang.
The barge shuddered. A deep metallic groan rolled through the hull, rattling the floor beneath their boots.
Chat lunged, fury exploding through him, baton arcing down.
She laughed, twisting away. Steel met steel as her cane caught the strike, sliding it aside with ease. She shoved, and Chat stumbled half a step back.
“You’re too predictable,” she purred.
He came at her again, but this time Argos cut across the motion, fan flashing in clean, precise arcs that severed the violet threads she cast out from the tip of her cane — threads that seemed to pulse with energy, latching greedily at the air.
“She’s stalling,” Argos said, his voice low, clipped.
The figure only smiled wider, retreating toward the hatch at the far end. “Stalling? Oh, no.” Her grin turned razor-sharp. “I’m sinking.”
Another tremor rocked the chamber. This one harsher — the floor slanted beneath them, sending water sloshing faintly along the lower walls. From somewhere deep in the hull came the unmistakable groan of steel giving way under pressure.
Chat’s eyes went wide. Argos’s jaw tightened.
The figure’s laughter echoed as she slipped through the hatch, her voice trailing behind like poison.
“Tick tock, little heroes. Hope you’re good swimmers.”
Chat’s eyes locked on Argos’. “She’s—”
“Scuttling it,” Argos finished grimly.
By the time they steadied themselves, she was already through the hatch, her laughter echoing behind her.
Chat slashed forward to go after her, but Argos growled, “Forget her.” He was already moving. “She can wait. The girls can’t.”
Chat didn’t argue as he tore down the corridor, Argos close behind. The tilt was steeper now, every step slanting. Water was seeping through the lowest seams, dark and cold against their boots.
A door loomed ahead, reinforced and bolted, light leaking faintly from the crack at the bottom.
***
Marinette
At first, it was just noise.
A distant boom — metal shrieking against metal — followed by a violent shudder that rattled the boxes against the wall. Marinette jerked upright, heart racing, eyes darting to Kagami.
The other girl was already on her feet, stance braced, scanning the ceiling like she could fight the sound itself.
Then the floor tilted.
Not much at first — just enough for boxes in one corner to slide, crashing into the floor with a loud thunk. Marinette’s knees slammed into the floor as she struggled to keep balance.
“What—?” she started, breath quick and thin.
Another groan thundered through the walls, louder this time, followed by a rush of cold air through the cracks. No… not air. Damp. Heavy.
Water.
The entire room gave a slow, stomach-twisting lurch. Marinette’s eyes went wide as she took in the room. Suddenly the faint rocking, the constant low hum beneath the floor, the stale tang of the air— it all crashed into place.
They weren’t in a warehouse. They weren’t in some forgotten basement.
They were on a boat.
“No,” Marinette whispered, voice trembling as she looked at the seams in the walls, the wet sheen sliding down the corner. “Kagami— it’s a boat. We’re on a boat.”
Kagami’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing with grim understanding. “And it’s sinking. We don’t have a choice anymore, we need to transform.”
The light overhead swayed harder now, casting the room in dizzying arcs of shadow. Somewhere above, footsteps pounded — fast, sharp, purposeful. The sound of a struggle before pounding.
The door. Someone was at the door.
Marinette’s pulse roared in her ears. Whether it was rescue or another trick, she didn’t know — but the water was already seeping under the threshold in a thin, merciless stream.
***
Chat & Argos
Chat’s claws dug deep into the steel frame, muscles straining. Beside him, Argos jammed his fan into the lock and twisted hard until the metal screamed in protest. The barge groaned again, a sickening, guttural sound like the Seine itself was dragging it under.
“Hold on!” Chat shouted, slamming his shoulder into the door one last time.
The lock gave with a shriek. The door burst open.
And there they were.
Marinette and Kagami. Pale, soaked in shadows, but alive — eyes wide with shock and relief as they stared back.
“Chat—!” Marinette’s voice cracked, raw with a mix of disbelief and hope.
The floor pitched violently. Water surged into the hall behind them, rushing fast and cold around their boots. No time.
Chat didn’t hesitate. He scooped Marinette up, cradling her tight against his chest as Argos lifted Kagami. They bolted through the opening just as the floor buckled, icy water slamming up around their legs.
“This way!” Argos barked, leaping across a widening gap where the deck had begun to split. Chat followed close, teeth bared, his grip on Marinette iron as her arms instinctively locked around his neck.
Another door blocked their path. Locked. Solid. The water was already at their knees.
“Hold on,” Chat growled. His hand shifted as he held Marinette. “Cataclysm!”
The lock disintegrated in a bubble of black energy, the door sagging before he kicked it wide.
They plunged forward — and then there was no floor, only water. Chat held Marinette tight as they hit the Seine, the shock of the cold searing the air from their lungs. Argos and Kagami surfaced beside them, fighting against the drag of the sinking barge.
Together, the four of them pushed for the docks. The current pulled, but Chat’s strokes were furious, desperate. Marinette clung to him, coughing against his shoulder until his feet finally hit the slick stone edge and he hauled them both up.
They collapsed onto the dock in a wet, gasping heap. Argos laid Kagami beside Marinette, then dropped to one knee, chest heaving. Behind them, the barge groaned one final time and disappeared beneath the river with a roar.
“We… we made it,” Marinette whispered, trembling as she leaned against Chat’s shoulder.
Chat’s chest rose and fell in sharp bursts. He looked down at her, hand trembling slightly as he brushed wet hair from her cheek. “I was so worried. I thought I was going to lose you.” His forehead touched hers for the barest second, his relief spilling raw and unguarded.
The warmth of the moment snapped like glass.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, stray?” Argos’s voice cut through the night, sharp as his fan. He was already on his feet, fury simmering in his eyes.
Chat froze, guilt and defiance warring in his expression. His ears flattened. “I was making sure she was safe. Is that so wrong?”
“Safe?” Argos’s jaw clenched. “Or are you trying to steal Adrien’s girlfriend while she’s still shaking from nearly drowning?” His fan twitched, though he didn’t raise it.
Marinette blinked, stunned, her heartbeat stumbling. “Wait…what? No…Chat was just…he…” The words tangled in her throat. The truth was simpler than what Argos implied, but the way her body had leaned into Chat’s — the way his hand lingered on her cheek — made heat rise in her face.
Chat hissed softly, claws digging into the wood of the dock. “I don’t care about stealing anyone. She was in danger. I…” His voice faltered, raw emotion breaking through. He snapped his mouth shut before he said too much.
Argos’s glare didn’t ease. “You can keep pretending, but I see what you’re doing. I don’t trust you with her.”
Kagami stepped forward, her voice steady but edged. “Argos, not now. He helped to save us. That’s the only thing that matters right now.”
The tension hung heavy in the air — the river still swallowing echoes of the sinking barge, the early morning fog pressing in. Marinette’s gaze flicked between them, unsettled, her pulse still uneven.
Chat’s green eyes met hers, softer now, almost vulnerable. “I care,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”
Marinette’s breath caught, unsure what to do with the tangle of relief, fear, and confusion tightening in her chest.
The dock groaned beneath them, slick with river water. The barge’s final bubbles rose in the distance, swallowed by the dark current.
“We need to move,” Argos said, his voice clipped but steady. He pulled Kagami up gently, then cast a sharp glance at Chat. “This isn’t over, stray. But the riverfront isn’t safe. The holder of the butterfly could be anywhere.”
Chat bristled but didn’t argue, hauling Marinette to her feet with careful hands. She wobbled, still cold and shaken, and he steadied her instinctively. His green eyes lingered on her too long, too soft, before he forced himself to look away.
Argos caught it and his jaw clenched.
They moved fast through the back alleys, dripping river water, shivering against the night. The city was loud not far away, but here it felt muffled, like the Seine had dragged silence up onto the banks with them.
When they reached the shadow of a deserted warehouse, Argos finally stopped. He set Kagami down against the wall before turning on Chat, his voice calm, but rising.
“I saw it from the start,” Argos said flatly. “The way you’ve been pacing, snapping, losing control. It wasn’t just about saving them. You weren’t worried about ‘the girls.’ You were worried about Marinette.”
Chat stiffened, ears angling back, his tail lashing once behind him. “Of course I was worried. She could have drowned in that barge, Argos. What did you expect me to do, shrug it off?”
“I expected you to act like a hero, not like a jealous boyfriend.” The words felt like he’d been slapped in the face. “Adrien is her boyfriend. Not you. You need to back off.”
Chat’s ears flattened, his grip on the dock tightening. “She was kidnapped… could have drowned. Forgive me for checking if she’s breathing.”
“That’s not what I saw,” Argos hissed, stepping forward. His glare. “I saw you holding her like she belonged to you. Adrien doesn’t need you hovering over his girlfriend like some—”
“Enough!” Marinette shouted, looking between the two of them.
Argos frowned as he ignored her. “No. I won’t let him just play dumb. You can pretend this is all concern, but I’ve watched you. Every time her name comes up, you tighten like the leash on your neck just got shorter. And maybe I’ve ignored it — for the sake of getting Kagami and Marinette back alive — but now? Now I won’t.” His fan flicked open with a snap, but he didn’t raise it. He just held it, like a warning.
Chat’s breathing was uneven, his face shadowed. His voice dropped low, rough. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Argos’s eyes narrowed, sharp as the fan’s edge. “Don’t I? Maybe it’s time you stop hiding. Something is going on and I will find out what it is.”
Kagami straightened, eyes flicking between the two, ready to intervene. Marinette’s pulse roared in her ears. Her gaze darted to Chat, searching his face, his stance, the way his silence said more than words ever could.
The two heroes’ eyes remained locked on each other as if daring one to make a move.
Then before anyone could move, Argos snapped, slipping on the edge of his anger.
“Marinette doesn’t need the local stray hovering over her in both forms. You already do it enough when she’s Ladybug—she doesn’t need you doing it when she’s not.”
The silence after Argos’s words was deafening.
Marinette’s heart stopped. Her throat worked, but no sound came out. He just—he just said it out loud.
Chat’s entire body went rigid, ears pricked high. His gaze whipped toward Marinette, shock painted across his face. “...You—” His voice cracked, low, like the world had shifted under him. “You’re Ladybug?”
Marinette flinched, her mouth opening and closing. “I—” She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Argos cursed under his breath, realizing too late what he’d done. “Damn it.” His fan snapped shut with a violent clack.
The air pulsed, sharp with tension. Kagami stood rooted to the spot, her eyes darting between them, jaw tight.
Chat’s chest rose and fell too fast, claws digging shallow lines into the wood of the wall beside him. His voice was strangled, almost pleading. “All this time…you were right there…and I couldn’t see it?”
Marinette’s lips trembled. She wanted to answer, to explain, but her head was spinning. She wasn’t ready—not like this.
Argos stepped forward, cutting the air like a blade. “This is exactly what I meant. You don’t think. You let your feelings drag you into places you shouldn’t be. She doesn’t need you complicating her life when she’s already balancing everything as Ladybug.”
Chat’s eyes flashed, snapping toward him. “Complicating? I’ve been fighting beside her for years. I’ve risked everything for her. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t care—”
“Risked everything, maybe,” Argos shot back, cold as steel. “But it’s not enough. Because right now, it isn’t the city you’re thinking about, or Kagami, or even Marinette’s safety…it’s about you. It’s always about you. You and your feelings. What about her parents, hell, even her boyfriend who hasn’t heard from her in days, what about him, them?”
The words landed like claws sinking deep. Chat staggered half a step, his breathing ragged. His hands curled into fists, trembling.
Marinette’s voice finally broke through, soft, pleading. “Stop… please, both of you…”
Chat’s head dropped, eyes squeezing shut. His voice came out rough, raw, torn from someplace deep. “You think. You don’t.”
His eyes blazed as he looked from Marinette to Argos before settling back on Marinette as he whispered, “I am her boyfriend.”
The words hung in the air like smoke, thick and impossible to ignore. Marinette’s knees wobbled, and she had to grip the edge of the building to stay upright. Her heart hammered, a frantic rhythm she couldn’t quite catch up with.
Argos froze, eyes narrowing, his jaw tightening. “What?” His voice was low, dangerous, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
Chat kept his gaze locked on her. His chest rose and fell, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “I am her boyfriend,” he repeated, firmer this time, each word dragging weighty truth from him, raw and unpolished. “I am Adrien.”
Marinette’s lips parted, soundless. Her boyfriend. Her partner. The boy she trusted with her heart — and the partner she’d trusted through every battle.
Argos’s jaw tightened, anger faltering into stunned disbelief. He looked at Chat like he’d never seen him before.
Chat’s voice dropped, low and rough, the weight of it pressing into the night. “I never meant for it to come out like this. But if you think for one second, I’m going to put up with this… for trying to protect and help her, you’re wrong.”
Marinette’s hands shook as she finally found her voice, barely above a whisper. “Adrien…?” Her voice caught on the name, fragile and disbelieving.
“Yes,” he said, voice rough with tension. “It’s me. I’m here. Apparently been by your side longer then either of us realized.”
He glanced at her, smile softening.
“I should have known! Of course you would be Adrien! I knew it didn’t make sense. ‘He asked me to check it out.’ This is ridiculous.” Argos snapped, incredulously, more irritated than anger now, like he’d just realized the world was inconveniently smaller than he thought. “I can’t believe your Adrien. Running around in cat ears and being so damn annoying.”
Chat let out a low, amused hiss-laugh, tail flicking lazily. “Yep. The very same. And yes, I do look better in ears than in a bow tie, if you must know.”
Marinette snorted eyes locking with Kagami who was standing against a nearby wall, her mouth pinched in amusement, before she sighed and looked back at Chat who was smirking at Argos.
“Chat…Adrien?”
He turned, eyeing her, his eyes soft as he smiled, “Hey, sorry to um, well, you know blow our identity like this, but um, hi. I’m really glad your okay, I was so worried.”
Marinette titled her head, “I’m not even worried about that. I just… whomever that was, she was trying hard to convince me you didn’t love me, didn’t want me and while I knew… I knew it was fake; it was so hard… you know.”
“She was toying with you… and I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I… took too long to get to you.” Chat sighed, his eyes flattening against his head.
“Ah, kitty. It’s not your fault… besides I’m really glad you’re… well, you.”
Chat stepped closer, voice dropping into that teasing, almost smug cadence she knew so well. “Glad, huh? Careful, Bugaboo. Too much excitement, and I might start thinking you like Chat as more than just a partner.”
Marinette’s cheeks flushed pink, but she grinned anyway. “Maybe I do,” she admitted, eyes bright with laughter and relief.
Argos pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth. “Of course, you two would be like this. I should be annoyed at your antics, but honestly… I don’t even know where to start.”
Marinette stifled a laugh as Chat shrugged, “Comes with the territory, honestly.”
Kagami let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. “I think I speak for everyone when I say… this is exactly what I didn’t see coming.”
The street settled into silence as they all realized just how much they had gone through the last several days. The fear, the chaos of the kidnapping, the mad dash through the streets—was slowly replaced with something lighter: laughter, teasing, relief. Marinette wiped a strand of wet hair from her face, her jacket plastered to her shoulders, and took a shivering step closer to Chat.
Marinette smiled with a soft sigh as she cuddled into him. Her hand found his fingers tangling, warm against the cold wetness from the Seine. “Well, at least we’re safe now,” she said, eyes flicking toward the street entrance. “That’s what matters.”
Chat’s grin softened, almost laced with worry. “We survived for now.”
Kagami nodded, glancing down the alley where the night stretched dark and empty. “Yeah… at least we can catch our breath.”
Argos straightened, his gaze sharpening despite the water still dripping down his face. “Safe… for now. Don’t forget—she’s still out there. The Butterfly Holder didn’t lose tonight. She let us live. That’s worse.”
The words cut through the fragile calm, and Marinette’s stomach knotted. She thought of the smug laughter echoing off the steel walls, of the way their captor had chosen every word, every move, like pieces on a chessboard. This hadn’t been survival — it had been allowed.
Marinette tightened her grip on Chat’s hand, drawing strength from his presence. “Then we’ll be ready,” she said quietly, determination threading her voice through the relief. “Together.”
Chat gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his tail flicking once in the drizzle. “Always together.”
And for the first time in hours, they let themselves breathe, letting the warmth of laughter and relief push back the chill — though the shadow of the Butterfly Holder lingered just beyond the dark river, a reminder that the game was far from over.
Chapter Text
Bringing Marinette Home
By the time they reached her street, Marinette was trembling from more than just the cold. Chat landed lightly on the street in front of the bakery, setting her down with a gentleness that belied the claws at his fingertips.
She hugged her arms around herself, damp clothes clinging, shivering. “They must’ve been… so worried.”
“They were,” Chat said quietly. His eyes softened as he brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek. “I was.”
Marinette looked up, green eyes meeting blue, and for a heartbeat it was too much — the weight of her family’s fear, the ache of two endless days, the way she almost believed the lies whispered in that make shift cell.
“They’ll want answers,” she whispered.
“Then we give them one,” Chat said firmly. “There was an akuma. Messy, dangerous. You got trapped until I could get you out. That’s the story.” His voice dropped, rougher. “Because no one else needs to know what really happened. Not yet.”
Her throat tightened. “You’ll… cover for me?”
“Always,” he promised.
The door creaked open before she could say more. “Marinette?!” Sabine’s voice cracked, desperate.
Marinette barely nodded before her mother swept her inside, Tom right behind. Relief hit like a wave — Sabine’s tears, Tom’s arms wrapping around her, her own choked sobs caught in their warmth.
Chat lingered in the doorway for only a moment before stepping inside, ears flat, tail twitching nervously. “She’s safe,” he said quickly, voice thick. “There was an akuma. Complicated one. She got caught in the middle, but I got her out.”
Tom’s eyes glistened as he pulled Marinette closer, voice unsteady. “Thank you, Chat Noir. For bringing our girl home.”
Chat’s chest heaved, but he forced a crooked grin. “Always. That’s what I do.” His gaze lingered one last time on Marinette — wet, exhausted, alive — before he slipped back toward the street.
Sabine pressed her forehead to her daughter’s, whispering relief, while Tom’s arm held them both. Marinette clung tighter, but her eyes followed Chat’s retreating shadow into the Paris night, her heart twisting at the sight of him vanishing from view.
Félix & Kagami
They’d found temporary shelter in a quiet, out-of-the-way café, the kind that stayed open too late and didn’t ask questions. The owner had taken one look at Kagami’s soaked clothes and handed over towels and hot tea without a word.
Félix hadn’t touched his. He sat rigid in the corner booth — no longer Argos — his hands clenched together in annoyance or maybe frustration.
Kagami slid in across from him, her dark hair still dripping onto her shoulders. She watched him quietly for a moment before asking, “Are you going to keep staring holes into the wall, or are you going to say it?”
His jaw tightened. “He’s Chat Noir.”
Kagami didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
Félix’s laugh was humorless, sharp. “My cousin. Adrien. Of all people. While the rest of us spent years being kept in the dark, he was out there — wearing ears, cracking jokes, saving Paris with her.” He shook his head, the sound rough. “It’s absurd.”
“You’re angry,” Kagami said simply.
“I’m… unsettled.” His voice clipped, too quick, before speaking even quieter, “I should have seen it. I should have known. But he — he fooled all of us. He fooled me.”
Kagami reached across, steady fingers curling around his wrist. “He wasn’t trying to fool you. He was protecting you. All of us.”
Félix’s eyes flicked to hers, sharp and uncertain. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. “I know Adrien. He never would have put Marinette in danger for the sake of a secret. You saw his face tonight. That wasn’t a liar. That was someone terrified he was going to lose her.”
The tension in Félix’s shoulders wavered, cracking just enough for something rawer to slip through. “And I nearly accused him of—” He stopped, biting down hard, his breath shaking. “Of something he’d never do. Because I was too blinded by… by him being close to her.”
Kagami’s hand squeezed his wrist, firm. “You were worried. Protective. That’s not a crime.”
Félix let out a breath, staring down at the table. “He’s my cousin. My only cousin. And I’ve spent years thinking I knew him better than anyone. But tonight, I realized… I don’t know him at all.”
“Then maybe,” Kagami said gently, “this is your chance to start. Besides, I bet it was fun working with him. Argos and Chat Noir… I think you two make a great team.”
He blinked at her, stunned by the simplicity of it. Her calmness steadied him in ways he hadn’t expected. Slowly, Félix nodded, though the words caught in his throat. “…Maybe.”
The steam from his untouched tea curled upward, fragile and fleeting, as the silence between them softened.
Late Night Confessions
The night air was cool, damp with the lingering mist of the Seine. Marinette leaned against the railing of her balcony, now in dry clothes, a blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders. The bakery below had finally gone quiet — her parents exhausted after hours of worry and relief.
She should have gone to bed, but her thoughts refused to settle. The sound of the barge groaning, the water rushing in, the mocking laughter — it all played on repeat in her head.
A soft thud landed just beyond the railing.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Chat asked, crouched there with his usual lopsided grin, though tonight, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Marinette’s heart squeezed. “You should rest.”
He tilted his head, green eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “Not until I know you’re okay.”
Something in her steadied at that. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’m better now. Thanks to you.”
Chat’s smile faltered. His claws flexed once before he exhaled, a shimmer of green light flashing around him. And then Adrien was standing there, his blond hair a little messy, suit traded for the clothes he had worn for their lunch date, days ago, his shoulders heavy.
Marinette’s breath caught. Even though she knew, even though she’d pieced it all together hours ago, seeing him change — seeing Adrien where Chat had stood — still stole the words from her tongue.
He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “So… surprise?”
She let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Guilty.” He leaned on the railing beside her, close but careful. His voice dropped lower, rougher. “I never wanted you to find out like that. In the middle of chaos, while everything was falling apart.”
“You saved me,” she said softly. “I don’t care about anything else. You came when I needed you most.”
For a moment, they stood there in silence watching the early morning sun begin to rise as Adrien’s gaze drifted over the rooftops, the weight of the everything settling back onto his face.
“She’s still out there,” he murmured.
Marinette’s fingers tightened around the blanket. “…The Butterfly holder.”
He nodded, jaw tightening. “I kept running it over in my head…her voice, the way she taunted you, the lies she chose, the way she set the board before we even knew we were playing.” His green eyes flicked to hers, steady and grim. “Marinette… it sounded like Lila.”
The name sat heavy in the air between them.
Marinette’s breath hitched, memories of Lila’s sly smiles and manipulative whispers crowding in. “If it is her… then she’s more dangerous than we ever thought.”
Adrien reached for her hand, his grip warm, grounding. “Then we’ll be ready. Together. No more secrets.”
Her heart ached at the honesty in his eyes, at the weight of the promise. Slowly, Marinette squeezed back, her voice quiet but fierce. “Together.”
And for the first time since the barge, she let herself breathe as the city stretched silent and endless around them, shadows hiding threats still to come.
Adrien closed the space between them, his hands cradling her face as his forehead pressed to hers for a heartbeat. Then he tilted his head, eyes searching hers, and kissed her — not gentle this time, but fierce and sure, a kiss that carried every ounce of relief, love, and promise he’d held back. It was a kiss that said you’re safe, I’m here, we’re unstoppable together, pulling her into the warmth of him with a strength that made her knees weak.
Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing closer, letting the world fall away and for a perfect, suspended moment, there was only them, breath mingling, hearts hammering, and the undeniable certainty of being exactly where they belonged.
Notes:
The end! <3