Angel_Dur

Seeing your mother get beaten for standing up for you, seeing her get murdered in front of you, living with a relative who kept you at arms length, going to college for the sake of keeping the mind occupied and away from your childhood memories…

Pamela couldn’t exactly say she loved the ability to essentially brainwash those around her with her - if anything, she took pride in being able to control those who stood in her way.

Yet not everyone thought doing this was okay, that this was morally and ethically wrong…like Mr.Wayne.

He rejected her idea to use her pheromone pills to control his business partners and fired her on the spot for thinking of “such a thing”...

So here she was, alone in her apartment, wondering what she should be doing next. As Mr.Wayne basically confiscated all of her pheromone search, she did what she could do with the machinery she had at home: experiment.

Seeing as she could no longer continue with pheromone experimentation, she decided to play around with what she could, leading her to test if she could grow a human from a plant by splicing and modifying human stem cells and plant genetics. 

She decided to use pomegranate seeds and her own DNA, seeing as it was the easiest for her to collect and obtain.

As with every experiment, she knew she wasn’t going to get this on the first try…yet she didn’t expect for her experiment to bear fruit on her first try…quite literally. 

She had modified the plant’s genes to prevent the plants from making fruits, diverting the energy to create humans from the stems and leaves of the plant instead. 

So how did she end up with this?

There, on the edge of a branch, Pamela noticed what resembled a pomegranate . 

A ripe, plumpy pomegranate that fitted just perfectly in her hand. 

As she examined the pomegranate, she heard a snap, the pomegranate dropping into her hand, startling Pamela. 

She sighed. 

A failure. 

All she did was create yet another fast, growing plant that-

Her attention was taken by the wobbling pomegranate that fell in her hand just moments ago. 

She watched it writhe for a few seconds, wobbling from side to side until she realized that the pomegranate was no longer firm, its walls deflating, caving into itself.

And that’s when she saw it.

Tiny human hands clawing at the sunken pomegranate walls, as if trying to tear through the skin and make its way out.

Pamela kept staring at it, wondering what creature she had created from this new plant when she heard it.

The clawing was getting more aggressive with each passing moment when she heard what she thought was chittering but upon taking a moment to listen to it, bringing the pomegranate to her ear, she recognized the chittering as wails. 

Baby wails.

Pamela immediately tried to break the pomegranate open, but couldn’t. The skin was too thick and tough for her to break it open with just her nails and she didn’t want to risk injuring the baby inside. 

She ran across her lab, scanning her table in search of-

Scalpel! 

Pamela gently placed the wrinkly pomegranate on the table and gently lifted a part of the skin and carefully cut through it, letting out a breath when she successfully made an incision. 

She carefully made the incision bigger, gliding the blade down the fruit, revealing the crying baby inside, its screams now a bit louder than before yet still too weak to fully hear them.

It looked no older than 22 weeks old, explaining why their screams were so weak…

22 weeks…

“She won’t survive.” Pamela whispered, quickly scooping the crying child and held her close to her bosom, scurrying around her lab, wondering what she should do.

Yes, she was a scientist, yes she had the degrees to prove it. Yes she knew botany and was a microbiologist but that didn’t mean she knew what was needed to make sure this child she created will survive under her care. 

Pamela tried to think as fast as she could, glancing at the child to make sure it was still breathing- it grew.

It grew.

The baby was no longer the size of the pomegranate and now looked the size of a small pumpkin, quietly sleeping in her embrace.

Pamela stared at the baby, lifting one of her hands to readjust her hold but found herself reaching for the baby’s face.

She caressed the baby’s face with her thumb, rousing the baby awake.

The baby looked at her with large blue doe eyes, giving her a smile before going back to sleep. 

Pamela felt her heart swelling, holding the baby tighter against herself as she wrapped the baby in one the large leaves from one of her plants, allowing the plant to help bring the baby to her room. 

Quietly as to not make the baby, Pamela went through her clothing and picked a slightly worn shirt that was soft to the touch. 

She then searched for an old sewing kit at the top of her wardrobe, hoping it actually held some thread and needles and thankfully it did.

She haphazardly made her shirt into a baby onesie, taking the baby from the warmth of the leaf and thanking it for keeping her baby safe.

Her baby.

Pamela looked down at the child, the baby still fast asleep, her rosy cheeks even more prominent compared to when they freshly bloomed from the pomegranate. 

“Rose.” Pamela found herself saying, laying in bed with the baby next to her. “Your name will be Rose.” She kissed the baby’s forehead. “My little rose bud.”

At that moment, Pamela felt what she believed to be love…of a need to protect her new child…

Was it just maternal instincts upon seeing Rose? Who knows. 

Not a single peep from her…and to make matters worse, she wasn’t the only one missing.

So was Marinette. 

Ladybug was missing, Marinette was missing…two of the most important people in his life were missing and- he had enough. 

He couldn’t bear the silence around him any longer. He was able to bear it at home because he had his friends at school- because Marinette was there.  

And during patrol, Ladybug was there to listen to his ranting and without the two of them…

The silence was deafening.

So on his hands and knees, with tears pooling by his hands and his heart aching to bits and pieces with his head bowed as low as he could go, he begged Plagg to teach him the spell Tikki had taught Ladybug. 

To teach him the spell that could heightened his senses to find them both.

To find the warmth he could no longer stand to live with…

He thought he was able to hand the change and at first he did. 

He was able to deal with the heightened hearing and heightened smell. 

He was able to hide away the whiskers and small patches of fur across his legs and arms. 

But then he couldn’t hide them anymore. 

They wouldn’t leave even after he detransformed. 

The sweaters and jackets started to bring more attention to himself in class. Hell it couldn’t hold back the uncontrollable rate his hair grew despite going to his stylist every other day.

He couldn’t find any excuse to explain the slightly bristled texture his hair now had despite his best to try and tame it.

He started to snap from the teeniest noise, causing his friends to become concerned. 

The tapping of fingers and screeching of chalk overloaded his senses, the scents of perfumes and lotions and aromatics made him grow nauseous and light headed. 

He would wake up in the middle of the night from body aches and migraines, sweating bullets as he noticed a new patch of fur growing on him.

He couldn’t bear it anymore.

He needed to get away from it. 

From all of it. 

Chat looked at the digital billboard staring right in front of him, his face staring right at him.

And right next to his face was his father’s phone number, a few details about him alongside the last time he was seen: three days ago.

…but I’ve been gone for longer than that.

Chat buried his face into his fur-like hair, rubbing his arms as the night breeze flew by him. 

His whiskers brushed against his fur as he held in a sob. 

Because, no. He wasn’t crying because he missed home. If anything, leaving that damned place was a godsend.

He no longer had to hear his father’s yells on the phone as he had to correct yet another "incompetent" employee or  business partner. He didn’t have to hear another lecture of “where he could’ve done better” or needing to “smile more genuinely.”

Like if he could ever do that.

While he had to scavenge food from a few undesirable places and sleep over some uncomfortable air vents, if he shoved that to the side, life was good! 

Or at least, it was the first four weeks. 

With no curfew in sight, Chat spent most of his time patrolling Paris, fighting akumas and of course, looking for Marinette and Ladybug.

Yet everywhere he thought he would get a lead on either of his friends would end up nowhere or back to where he started. 

Marinette wasn’t with her grandparents nor staying at a friend’s place. She wasn’t staying at a place provided by one for her clients nor at a place she booked herself to help her concentrate on her commissions- something that she started to do this past year.

He tried to talk to every person he could think of that had a close relationship to her: her parents, Jagged, Nino, Alya- but no one could think of any place Marinette would stay at. Hell, none of them could even think of a reason as to why Marinette would leave home without a word.

“That’s just not Marinette.”

And he agreed.

And then there was his search with Ladybug.

He couldn’t find her in any of her favorite spots, no signs of life or having been used as a temporary shelter in any of their favorite high places in Paris. 

He searched in pigeon coops, old storage sheds, abandoned food stores, alleyways and yet…it seemed like she disappeared into thin air without a trace of her existence.

He tried to use his heightened sense of smell and yet every time he thought he smelled her, he was only led to yet another dead end…it made him wonder: did he already forget her scent?

A scent he would describe as earthy, homely…a scent he missed dearly with each passing day.

A scent that- was nearby!

Chat rose to his feet, sticking his nose into the air, sniffing to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

Making sure- there! There it is!

All of the stress he felt in that moment dispersed within that second, filling Chat with hope and joy.

He followed the scent, finding himself jumping down a fire escape and peering down into the alleyway once he was on the last set of stairs.

He stuck his nose into the air again, the smell of earth and vanilla now stronger compared to before. 

Scanning the area, his ears picked up on the sound of someone rummaging through a  dumpster. 

Quietly descending from his spot, he creeped up to the dumpster, his eyes landing on the hooded person inside of the dumpster, noting an all familiar pair of antennae peer from the edges of the hood.

“My Lady?” he asked, watching as the person froze. “Is that you?” 

He felt as he was pushed back, stumbling a bit as he watched Ladybug run away from him.

“Ladybug! Please!” Chat cried out, trying his best to follow her despite the distance between getting longer.

But his cries didn’t stop her, Ladybug not once turning back to look at him.

Why?

Why wasn’t she stopping?

Why was she running away?

Why didn’t she want him to talk to her? To see her? 

They ran through alleyways, Chat jumping over piles of trash bags and fallen pallets as he tried to keep up with Ladybug. “My Lady, please! Just talk to me!” he pleaded.

But she just kept running.

It wasn’t until she crawled her way into an abandoned apartment through the fire escape that Chat found himself caught up to her. 

She tried to escape through another window only to find it jammed.

Chat felt his heart grow heavy with each desperate jiggle that tried to pry the window open.

“Ladybug…please, just look at me.” Chat pleaded, hearing Ladybug stop her attempts at opening the window. “Please Bug, just…hear me out…” Her back turned towards him, but seeing as she didn’t attempt to run off made him think she was at least willing to listen to him.

Chat let out a shuddering breath. “I just- I want to know that you’re okay, Bug…” Ladybug still didn’t turn around. “Okay…you don’t have to look at me, but please. Just let me know you’re okay and I’ll le-”

“Why?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why have you been looking for me?”

“Why wouldn’t Bug?” Chat let out a small laugh, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. “You’re my friend. Of course I’m going to notice when something’s off and look for you.”

“No one else has noticed I’ve been missing.” She said, “no one in Paris has been asking about my whereabouts nor asked why I haven’t been showing up to help take down the latest akuma.”

“Because they know you’ve trained a very good partner that is able to handle an akuma or two on his own.” He tried to explain.

“But you’ve been fighting by yourself these past six akumas Chat,” she pointed out,“ why has no one tried to-”

“Ladybug.” Chat cut her off. “Whether you’re present in a fight, needing some time off for yourself, the people of Paris will understand your decision. You are their hero after all, doing your best to-”

“Will they still accept me as their hero when I return and look like this?” She asked, pulling down her hood and finally turning to face him.

It was then that he realized the real gravity of their situation.

Of the reason behind Ladybug’s disappearance. 

He felt his eyes well with tears…

The last he saw her, she only had small changes to her costume: the mask like claws at the side of her face, the cloak, the pair of antennae popping from her hair…but now…

It seems like she went through a whole metamorphosis.

Her skin looked like it has been dyed gray, her eyes looked bloodshot red, Chat not knowing if its due to the effects of the spell their kwamis had taught them or from the stress her body went through from the side effects of the spell…

Her hands no longer resembled a human’s hand: they were a deep red, elongated and thin. Some might even dare to call them bony, with little claws at the end of her finger tips. 

Her legs bore the same fate, even gaining an extra length in the form of an extra segment, bits of fuzz protruding from her joints… 

In short, she no longer looked like the girl he saw weeks ago…she no longer looked human…but that wasn’t what upsetted him…

“Who cares if they accept you as their hero or not,” Chat told her, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “Ladybug…why did you…why did you bear it by yourself?” Chat let out a sob. “Why did you think you had to deal with the pain on your own?”

“I’ve dealt with the pain before.” She defended herself. “I knew I was going to deal with this pain just as well as-”

“You know as well as I do that you’re lying.” Chat managed to bring sternness to his voice despite the scratchiness that linger at the base of his throat. “This is nothing like the pain you get from the changes in senses or of learning how to adapt to them.

The growing of new facial features, of growing new limbs…I know that pain is incomparable to-”

“How would you know…” her voice trailed as she looked at him,”...how that feels…” Tears welled in her eyes. “Chat…what have you done?”

Ladybug looked at the partner she had left to fend on his own, for a moment not recognizing her partner.

His eyes appeared more narrow than what she remembered, his pupils more slitted and his scleras now a toxic green. His nose looked flatter and whiskers popped from the outer edges of his upper lip.

His hair was way longer than what she recalled, unkempt and ruly as well.

“What a pair of devotees we are, aren’t we?” Chat let out a chuckle. “You did it for the cause…i did it for you.” He confessed. “I missed you Bugaboo…I didn’t know what else to do.” Chat let out a shuddering breath. “But if it meant finding you…”

Ladybug stared at him, looking down at herself. 

What a fool she was to think she didn’t have anyone on her side… “Ladybug,” Chat stretched out his hand. “Will you join me in taking down Hawkmoth?”

Ladybug slowly reached for his hand but the moment her fingers grazed his, he pulled her into a hug, feeling her cool limbs against him. “I’ll make sure to beat anyone up who dares to make fun of your appearance or even breathes an opinion about you.”

Ladybug found herself let out a chuckle, gaining a tighter hug from Chat. “You’ll have me in your corner. Just like you always have since the beginning…”

Chat felt Ladybug hug him back, picking up soft sniffling as she buried her face against his shoulder.

-

A few weeks after the Dupain-Cheng’s discovered the news of an addition to their family, they soon found out that Anarka was also expecting her own bundle of joy. 

And coincidentally, both children were going to be girls, prompting both mothers to go out clothes shopping. 

However, upon hearing this, Luka whined about wanting to stay home. Raphael proposed the idea of the boys staying at home, promising to let his father know if they needed help or something was wrong. 

The three parents agreed, the boys grinning as they made their way to Raphael’s room to go and play until their mothers came home.

-

After playing a few rounds of video games, the two boys found themselves bored when Luka suggested thinking about names for their sisters.

Excited, Raphael pulled out his latest annexation of books from his growing collection and placed them on the new coffee table added to his room along with a notebook. 

Together, they started to brainstorm names for their new baby sisters. Or at least, Rapahel was the one writing while Luka simply suggested.  

“Hmm, what about Consuelo?” Luka asked, throwing a stress ball into the air and catching it. “Or Constance?” Raphael wrinkled his nose.

“That sounds like an old lady’s name.” Raphael complained.

“Hey, my neighbor’s name is Constance and she’s not an old lady.” Luka defended as he stopped throwing the ball. “She’s a very nice, pretty lady.”

“But I don’t want my sister to be pretty and have an old lady’s name.” Raphael huffed. “I want her to have a pretty name even when she’s old and wrinkly.”

“Like?” Raphael hummed.

“What about Dorothy, Agatha, Camelia or Adeline?” He listed.

“Do you even know how to spell Adeline?” Luka asked with a smug on his face, only to have a piece of paper shoved into it with the very names spelled on it.

“I do.” Raphael said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been practicing since I started looking for names for my sister…have you thought of any names you want to call your sister?”

Raphael didn’t like the face Luka made, wondering why he averted him in response. “Did you and Auntie think about any names for your sister?”

“We- I…did.”

“What is it?” Luka pursed his lips.

“Promise not to laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Just promise me Ralph.” Luka groaned, sticking out his pinky.

“Fine, I will.” Raphael pinky promised. “So tell me.”

“Bijou.” Luka confessed. “I want to name my sister Bijou.” Luka looked at Raphael, a mix of emotions passing on his face. He frowned. “This is why I made you promise not to laugh.”

He let out a groan. “When I told my mom about the name, she thought it was silly and said it didn’t fit our theme of names.”

“Your family follows a theme?” Raphael asked, wondering what theme exactly Anarka was trying to create. Then again, it was probably some odd thing only she might think makes sense…

“My mom wants all of our names to end in -ka so that it matches her name. Ankara, Luka…you get it?” Raphael nodded. “So when I suggested Bijou, it was placed in the ‘to-think-about’ pile.” 

“So let’s see how we can make Bijou work.”

“And how exactly will we make it work?”

“Well…why exactly did you choose Bijou?” Luka’s cheeks became dusty pink. 

“Because she’s going to be my little sister, the family’s precious baby…our precious treasure.” Raphael hummed..

“Treasure… gems… Well, Bijou means ‘jewel’ in English.”

“Okay?” Luka asked. “But gems isn’t a name.”

“I know, but work with me.”

“Work with you?” Raphael sighed.

“So Bijou translated to English is ‘jewels’ and if you ask me, jewels sounds like the nickname Jules. Sometimes people with the name Julius or Julissa have that nickname.” Raphael wrote the name in the notebook. “We can change the name Julissa and have it end in -ka and form the name Julika.”

“That doesn’t look like a name.” Luka complained.

“But what if we change the spelling to…this!” Raphael showed Luka his paper. “Juleka; ends in -ka to fit your mom’s name theme and you can call her Jules that sounds like jewels, reminding you that she’s your precious little sister.”

 Luka grinned with joy. 

“Raphael, you’re a genius!” Raphael grinned.

“Just helping a friend out, that’s all.”

“I hope our sisters become best friends like us.” Luka confessed. “That way we can all play together and hang out with each other.”

“I hope they are Luka.” Raphael looked at his own list of names he wanted to share with his parents. “I hope they do become best friends just like us.”

-

Tom looked at the book of baby names in his hands, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the long lists of names and their short descriptions about their origins.

Shortly after finding out having a little sister, Raphael insisted on getting books to help decide on a name for the baby. At first Tom was in disbelief that such books existed but when they went to their local bookstore, baby name books were indeed a thing. 

Since then, the family had been making a list of possible names for the baby girl. 

There was Beatrice, Daphne, Zoe, Dorothee, Esther, Estelle…. 

There were so many beautiful names to call their second treasure…how can he choose the perfect name for his little girl?

“Is everything alright Tom?” Sabine asked him, snapping him from his thoughts. He lifted his head from the book, Sabine offering him a cup of tea.

“Rosebud?” Tom asked as he took the cup. Sabine nodded. “Just..thinking about…a name.”

“For the baby?”

“I want it to be perfect, Sabine.” Tom confessed, “Just like Rapahel’s.” Sabine giggled, resting her head on his arm.

“Whatever name we choose, it will be perfect Tom. Because just like Raphael, she will be our perfect little girl as well.” Sabine sighed. 

“What’s on your mind, love?”

“…I never imagined we’d be gifted with another baby…” Sabine said, “I honestly thought Raphael would be our one and only one…” Tom looked over to look at his wife, noticing the tears in her eyes. “Tom, I’m scared.”

“Oh Sabine,” Tom wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a hug, kissing her forehead. “You’re going to do great. Everything is going to go well and you’re not going to do this on your own. Just like with Raphael, I’ll be there every step of the way.”

“And I can help too!” Raphael chimed in, causing both adults to jump. 

“Raphael, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Sabine asked, Raphael simply smiling as he ran towards his parents, with a paper in hand.

“I have some ideas for my sister’s name!” He showed them the list he wrote, consisting of five main names: Mei Ling, Danielle, Xiang, Heather and Anne-Marie.

“Anne-Marie…” Sabine read out loud. “Anne-Marie…” She said again, turning to Tom. “I think this is it.”

Raphael grinned.

“Are we choosing this one? I also really liked it!” He admitted, staring down at the name.

“But I also like the name Xiang.” Tom confessed, “I would like her to pay homage to your heritage.”

“Xiang Anne-Marie Dupain-Cheng…Anne-Marie Xiang Dupain-Cheng…”  Sabine played with the names.

“I guess we can make her middle name, just like what we did with Raphael.”

“I have a middle name?” Raphael asked. How did he not know this? Had he always heard it but never realized it was his middle name? Sabine’s giggle snapped him from his crisis.

“Your full name is Raphael Jingyi Dupain-Cheng.” She said, bopping his nose and pulled him into an embrace. Raphael melted into it, careful to not squish his sister. “You’ll always be my baby even when your sister is born, my little treasure.” She kissed his temple. “Now and forever.”

-

Months passed, Raphael was at home one minute snuggled warmly against his mother and the next, he was helping his father bring out the bag he had helped prepare for when his mother was ready to have his little sister and today…

Today was the day.

“-yes, he’s going to be- yes. I left them on the table for-” Tom hummed as he glanced around the room. “Yes, he knows-”

“Auntie, Mama’s having the baby!” Raphael shouted. “I get to stay home and watch the house until Mama comes back!”

“-could see, he’s very excited.” Tom said, listening as Anarka said a few more things on the phone. “Again, thank you for looking over Raphael. I’ll let you know how everything goes in a few hours. Bye-bye.” Tom hung up the phone and looked at Raphael.

“Is Auntie coming over to watch me?”

“She’s going to come over to pick you up and take you over to her house.” Raphael gasped.

“I thought I was going to stay at home and watch over it? Why am I going to Auntie’s home?”

“The stairs aren’t her best friend right now bud.” Tom explained, earning an ‘oh’ from Raphael. “She said she’s going to come by in 30 minutes, when the clock-”

“-lines up to the 5.” Raphael said, pointing to their clock in the living room. “I have to keep the doors locked until she comes by, right?”

“That’s right.” Tom ruffled his hair. “She’s going to call when she’s downstairs, okay?” Tom picked up Sabine’s hospital bag. “I’m going to take your mom to the hospital now.”

“Okay.” Raphael responded, noticing his father’s anxiety in his eyes. “Everything is going to be okay Papa.” Raphael hugged his father tightly. “Mom will have an easy delivery and my sister will be born well…I just know it.”

Tom hugged Raphael tightly before kissing his forehead.

“That I pray wholeheartedly Ralph. That I pray.”

-

Raphael glanced at the clock in Luka’s room, sighing as he watched the seconds tick by.

“Raphael, that’s the bazillion time you’ve looked up at that clock and sighed like that.” Luka himself looked at the clock. “It’s been four hours. Didn’t you say your mom might be in the hospital for six, seven hours?”

“I know I did, but still.” Raphael looked at the book in his hands. It was the latest addition to his library: Catcher in the Rye. “God better make sure everything goes well.”

“Everything is going to be fine, Raphael.” Luka reassured him, throwing him a book. “You’ll see.”

Raphael tried to push his worry to the back of his mind, but for the life of him, couldn’t.

With each hour that passed, his anxiety continued to gnaw his mind, even as he laid in bed. 

Luka was already sound asleep, Raphael staring at the ceiling fan at is slowly spun thanks to the night breeze. 

Was Mom alright? Was she still in labor? Or was his sister already born? Were there any complications? 

Was Dad okay?

A slow creak alerted him, causing him to quickly sit up, feeling his shoulders relax when he realized it was Anarka.

“I see you’re still awake lad.” Raphael nodded sheepishly. “Want to join me in the living room?” Raphael quickly got up, following his aunt into the living room. He allowed himself to snuggle against her side as they sat on the couch, accepting a cup of tea. He held it tight, careful to not rest it against her large belly. “What’s on your mind? You wouldn’t be up if something wasn’t eating at your tiny little head.”

“Can you really see that?” Ankara nodded. “Dad hasn’t called yet; I’m worried about Mama and the baby.”

Raphael let out a huff when Anarka ruffled his hair. “Has he called-”

The kitchen phone rang, Raphael pulling himself away as Anarka slowly got up.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She sighed as she waddled her way to the phone. “Give the pregnant lady some patience, will ya?” The ring came to a halt as Anarka brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

Raphael listened as someone was frantically speaking, Ankara staying quiet as they kept talking. He watched as a small smile formed on her face, a huge grin quickly replacing it. “Raphael, come over here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, setting his cup down and scrambling to Anarka’s side. He nervously took the phone Anarka handed him over, slowly bringing it to his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Raphael! Sorry for not calling earlier lad.” Tears prickled his eyes, Raphael wondering how bad his nervousness was if he was starting to tear up upon hearing his father’s voice. He shook his head, as if his father could see him. “How are you doing? Are you doing well?”

“I’m okay.” He tried to answer calmly, yet the crack in his voice betrayed him. “Auntie is taking good care of me and I'm having fun playing with Luka.”

“That’s great to hear. What did you-”

“Is Mom okay?” Raphael asked, gripping the phone. “Is the baby-” He heard a light chuckle on the other side.

“You know, I was panicking as I was making this call because I thought you would be mad at me for not calling you sooner. But for you to ask about Mom and the baby…you have a big heart, you know that?”

Raphael brimmed with embarrassment. “I wanted to tell you after you told me about your day, but since you’re already asking; Mom is doing well…and so is the baby.

You’re officially a big brother, Raphael.”

-

July 9, 20XX at 23:08, Marinette Xiang Dupain-Cheng was born.

-

Four days passed since the news about his sister being born, Raphael counting down the minutes until his father came to the Couffaine home to pick him up.

As if on cue, a knock was heard at the door, Raphael dragging his luggage with him  as Anarka opened the door to reveal his father.

“Papa!” Raphael yelled, tackling Tom, feeling as he lifted into the air and brought into a tight hug.

“Raphael! I’ve missed you.” Raphael let out giggles and pleads as Tom showered him in kisses. “Papa, your beard!”

“Are you ready to meet your sister?” Tom asked as the kisses came to a stop, Raphael furiously nodding. “Anarka, thanks for watching over my boy.”

“Any time.” She replied, “he’s my favorite nephew after all.” She grinned. “And now I have a niece that I can’t wait to meet as well.”

“Papa, why isn’t auntie coming with us?” Raphael turned to Anarka, “don’t you want to see the baby too?” 

“I’ll be visiting soon, Ralphie.” Ankara reassured him, “I just want your mom to rest a bit more and then I’ll visit you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now go on and meet that sister you’ve been waiting to meet. And then call me to tell me how cute she looks!” Ankara said with a laugh, waving the Dupain-Cheng’s goodbye.

-

Upon getting to their apartment door, Raphael became quiet, just his excitement still bounced inside of him.

Tom placed their things on the floor, Raphael quickly took them to his room and placed his book snack into his bookshelves and quickly went to shower.

He didn’t want to accidentally pass any germs to his sister. 

Once done, he  slowly tipped toed into his parents’ bedroom, noticing his mother fast asleep. 

While he wanted to check on her, he knew better than to wake her up so he opted to greet his new sister. 

Step by step, Raphael made his way to the pink bassinet across the room.

Raphael stared at the bassinet in front of him, holding onto the edges of it to pull himself a bit higher to get a closer view of his sister. 

Her face was rosy red, scrunched up together as if the dim lights of the room were still too bright for her and not optimal for her sleep. She looked to be no bigger than the size of an american football…

Did he also look like her when he was born?

He held in a yelp when his father ruffled his hair, Raphael wondering how he didn’t hear his father walk into the room..

“What do you think of your sister? 

“She’s so tiny,” he said, “and wrinkly.” Tom let out a hearty chuckle, careful to not wake up the sleeping baby.

“That she is, Raphael.” His father softly spoke. “Would you like to know your sister’s name?” He nodded. “Her name’s Marinette.”

“Marinette.” Raphael repeated.  “I didn’t write that down…what does the name mean?”

“The name means ‘of the sea..’” Tom explained, “I know we were set on Anne-Marie but the minute we saw her small tufts of hair, it reminded us of the color of the sea on a summer night and thought Marinette would suit her best.”

Raphael hummed, knowing that whatever his parents decided on was the final say…not that he disliked the name. If anything, Marinette suited his sister more than Anne-Marie.

“Can I hold her?” He asked.

“Maybe when she gets up.” Tom told him, “she’s been up all night.” Raphael pouted as he stared at his sister.  Then again, it would be rude to wake her-

“Papa!” Raphael whispered, “she’s moving!” Tom chuckled.

“She’ll do that a lot. Sometimes she’ll wake up and start crying and sometimes she’ll just fuss for a bit before going back to sleep.” Tom told him, “but if you hold her hand, she’ll go back to sleep.”

Raphael looked up to his father and then back to his sister. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

Raphael watched his sister fail around a bit before deciding to gently grab hold of her hand. Or rather, the minute her hand found his hand, she quickly grabbed a hold of one of his fingers and wrapped her tiny hand around it. 

Despite being so small, she already had a tight grasp. 

She smiled back at him before slowly going back to sleep, still holding his finger tightly.

“See that? She already loves you Raphael.” Raphael held back tears as he heard his father’s words, feeling him rub his back. “You’re going to be a wonderful brother Raphael, just you see.”

I will do my best dad…I’ll do my best.

Marinette hummed a soothing melody to herself as she waited for the elevator to arrive at her floor. Nerves buzzing under her skin from how her date had ended. Not buzzing in a bad way, no, the compatibility date had gone far better than she had hoped, seeing as her expectations were to walk out of the blind date with a new friend, not to walk out with an actual date, but she was left buzzing with energy nonetheless. She was still slightly flushed from testing their physical compatibility, her mind replaying the moment as she stepped out of the elevator and fumbled with her keys, flicking through the clicking metal for the one that would unlock her apartment door.

She hadn’t expected to like Damian as much as she does, but, well, to say that Marinette wouldn’t mind a repeat of their parting moments would be a blatant lie. It was strange to be looking forward to something as simple as a date again. Especially with someone who didn’t start as a friend, but she was excited to see where this spark with Damian would go, which unfortunately left Marinette a ball of anxious energy. Positive as the feelings are, she still felt the need to do something.

Stepping into the apartment, Marinett is met with the familiar scent of Pomeline’s lavender candles wafting through the air. Something familiar and grounding, welcoming her home as she takes a steadying breath.

Walking further into the apartment, Marinette is surprised to find none of her roommates up and about. She had sort of expected to be interrogated, if not by Olive, the resident psych major, then at least by Maps, who is not only the one who set up this blind date, but also the nosiest of her roommates. Plus, there was also the fact that Damian is a good friend of all three of her roomates, meaning that this was prime time to be interigated, or maybe Marinette was way too used to Alya’s brand of chaos, Marintte couldn’t help but think with a fond roll of her eyes as she locked the door behind herself, and slipped of her shoes.

Padding past the living area, Marinette stopped by her bedroom to grab a change of clothing before heading to the bathroom to shower. Making a pile on the counter of her wet clothing and Damian’s similarly rain-soaked jacket. She’d have to handle the laundry before going to bed, but preferably, after her shower. Right now, she could really use the warmth of a hot shower to chase away the chill that has settled in her bones. Setting the water just the way she liked it, Marinette was quick to step under the shower spray once the steam had started to rise. Breathing out a calming breath, Marinette forced her anxiety-tense muscles to relax. Letting the ritualistic pattern of washing away that day’s dirt, conditioning her hair, letting it sit, and rinsing it out. The familiar movements helped to calm some of the buzzing under her skin, but even as she stepped out of the shower and began drying off, the feeling of needing to do something still buzzed under her skin in a restless sort of way.

Marinette scrunched out the excess water in her hair before wrapping it up in a towel and patting herself dry with a fluffy towel. She quickly dressed herself in fluffy pajama pants and a warm top, hoping to preserve as much of the warmth from her shower as she could. Taking down her wrapped hair, Marinette ruffled her towel through the strands gently a handful of times before letting her hair rest on the towel around her neck.

With a tired sigh, she gathered her damp clothes, Damian’s jacket, and the wet towels into her arms and made her way to the laundry nook. She set about loading them, grateful for the clear, step-by-step structure that doing laundry offered. Sorting out the items that needed extra protection, like Damian’s jacket, her sweater dress, and her undergarments, she slipped each into its own mesh laundry bag, carefully zipping them closed to prevent snags or stretching. The towels, sturdy as they are, were left free to tumble in the drum. Only once everything was properly arranged did she add detergent and softener with practiced precision and set the cycle in motion, following each rule like a lifeline that had been offered in the middle of a storm.

Having properly taken care of the wet clothing, Marinette padded quietly toward the kitchen, only to pause in the doorway at the sight that met her eyes.

Pomeline stood by the stove, her sharp profile illuminated by the soft under-cabinet lights as she poured steaming water into a pair of ceramic mugs. A teapot steamed gently next to a bowl of freshly made strawberry oatmeal, the pink-red fruit bright against the creamy oats. Marinette blinked, genuinely surprised. Of all her roommates, she hadn’t expected Pomeline to be the one waiting for her tonight.

“Pomeline?” Marinette asked, arching a brow as she stepped into the kitchen. “I thought for sure it’d be Maps or Olive lying in wait to interrogate me about my date.”

Pomeline didn’t look up immediately, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Maps and Olive drew the short end of the straw. So, you’re stuck with me.” She finally turned, offering Marinette a mug. “Coincidentally, I made enough tea for two.”

Marinette smiled, accepting the mug and sliding into a seat at the kitchen table, content to be interrogated as it followed what she had expected to happen upon arriving home. Plus, with Pomeline’s dry humor, this interrogation was sure to be interesting if nothing else.

Pomeline sat across from her, stirring her own tea. Her gaze was cool but not unkind, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “So. Did anyone get hurt?”

Marinette blinked, startled by the bluntness, but laughed softly. “No, Pomeline. No one got hurt. No fights, no drama.”

“Did either of you end up hating the other?” Pomeline pressed, tone casual but intent.

Marinette shook her head, unable to hide her amusement as she answered, “Actually, we got along really well.” She said, feeling the flush of her cheeks, and hoping that it wasn’t too noticeable. 

If Pomeline noticed her blush, she didn’t mention it. In fact, Pomeline seemed satisfied with what she saw, nodding once. “Good. That’s all I wanted to know.” She pushed the bowl of strawberry oatmeal across the table toward Marinette. “Eat. You’ve had a long day, and you will have an even longer morning once the other two can get a hold of you.”

Marinette huffed in amusement, bidding her roommate goodnight as Pomeline collected her own mug and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Marinette with her tea, a warm bowl of oatmeal, and a faint smile lingering on her lips.

Left alone in the soft kitchen light, Marinette ate her oatmeal in slow, thoughtful bites, savoring the burst of strawberry against the creamy oats. She sipped at her tea, feeling the warmth settle into her bones, and once her bowl was empty, she rinsed it and her mug, washing the bowl with soap, leaving it in the drying rack while her mug was left on the counter for later use.

Padded back to the laundry nook, Marinette listened for the familiar click that signaled the washer’s end. She transferred the clean, damp clothes to the dryer, shaking out each piece and tucking delicate items into the mesh bags again. When she started the dryer, she set a mental timer and returned to the kitchen, filling the kettle once more and preparing a second cup of tea, the actions so ingrained she hardly thought about them.

With her cup warming her hands, Marinette set about gathering ingredients. Pulling out flour, butter, salt, and water to make the dough. Measuring and sifting the flour. Dicing the butter into cubes. Tossing them together into a crumbly mixture with a pinch of salt and a splash of icy water, that she mixed together until it combined into something that resembled a shaggy dough. Marinette then gently pressed it into a rectangle before wrapping it in cling film and placing it in the fridge to chill while she cleaned up.

By the time she was done cleaning, the dough was ready to be pulled out. Dusting the counters with flour, Marinette worked quickly, folding the dough over itself, rolling it out, folding it, rolling it, until the dough began to warm and needed to be wrapped back up and placed back into the fridge.

Putting the dough back, Marinette pulled out the apples and lemons for the filling before closing the fridge door and moving to the spice cabinet, pulling out the cinnamon and sugar. With everything gathered, Marinette began peeling and coring the apples, dicing them into small cubes in smooth, practiced chops. Tossing the apple bits, sugar, and cinnamon into a pot, Marinette halved and squeezed the lemon juice into the mix and left that to simmer. Washing her hands and the work space once more before dusting the area in flour again. The dough folding process was repeated until it was smooth and streaked with butter.

Once the apple compote was finished and cooled, Marinette pulled out the chilled dough and rolled it out for a final time, cutting perfect rounds of pastry dough that she then filled with the apple compote. Brushing the edges with egg wash, folding the circles shut and sealing them with a fork, crimping the edges, and arranging them on a tray.

Once the last of the pastries were filled, Marinette covered the trays with cling film and slid them into the fridge, planning to bake them fresh in the morning. The rhythm of the kitchen soothed her, each step familiar and easy, hands moving with the confidence of a long habit.

The dryer beeped just as Marinette finished cleaning up the kitchen, leaving her to unload and fold warm, clean clothing. Sorting her clothes from the towels and Damian’s jacket. She put everything away in its correct spot, leaving Damian’s jacket folded neatly on her desk as a reminder to give it back when she next saw him.

With everything in its place, Marinette poured the last of her tea and gave the kitchen one final glance, the scent of apples lingering in the air as she headed to bed, already looking forward to the morning.

Sleep came quickly, exhaustion and anticipation mingling in her dreams. It felt like no time had passed at all when Marinette was abruptly roused by the unmistakable sensation of someone, or something, perched almost on top of her. Groggy and confused, she blinked her eyes open to find Maps, knees tucked up and chin propped on Marinette’s blanket-covered hip, peering at her with the intense focus of a cat demanding breakfast.

“Maps?” Marinette croaked, voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

Maps, unrepentant, grinned down at her. "Morning! I need details. All the details. You promised, remember? What did you do, what did he say, how did it go? How long did it last?"

Marinette groaned, squinting at the clock. "Why are you waking me up for this? Couldn't you have asked last night instead of sitting on me like a needy cat?"

Maps pouted theatrically but didn’t budge. "Mel banned us from interrogating you last night. But it’s morning now, so it’s fair game!"

At that moment, Olive appeared in the doorway, a steaming mug in her hands. She offered Marinette the cup with a sympathetic smile. "Hot chocolate. And sorry, I tried to contain Maps, but clearly my powers are limited."

Marinette accepted the mug, her lips quirking in amusement. "You’re not really sorry, are you? Now you get to ask your questions too."

Olive only shrugged, hiding a smile behind her own mug, eyes bright with curiosity.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette slipped out from under Maps’ weight, slipping on a robe and pocketing her phone before she padded to the kitchen, pulling her robe tighter around her. Setting the oven to heat, Marinette hopped onto the counter next to the stove, taking a sip of her hot chocolate drink.

"Alright, you gremlins," Marinette said, shooting Olive and Maps a wry look over the rim of her mug, "Start asking your questions before I cut you off, and I won’t answer anything more."

Maps, of course, was first to dive into asking questions, or reasking in her case, since she had woken Marinette up with these questions. "How did it go? What did you do? How long did it last?" She rattled off once more, barely pausing between questions, eyes wide with anticipation.

Marinette huffed a tired laugh, taking a sip of her drink to buy herself some time before answering. “It went well once we switched to a Parisian dating structure.”

Maps furrowed her brows, clearly thrown off by the unexpected answer. “What does that even mean? What’s a Parisian dating structure? Is that like, an itinerary or…?”

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lighter now that she was surrounded by her friends and the familiar comfort of morning routines. “It means that all expectations of romance were cut from the date. The first date is more of a compatibility interview than anything else. It allows for both parties to ask the nosy, invasive questions that might cause problems later on, and if one of the parties thinks they wouldn’t work as a couple, the date can end before anyone gets hurt.” Marinette explains. “It removes the risk of akumatization later on in most cases.”

Maps blinked, then grinned. "So you interrogated each other the whole date? That actually sounds kind of fun.”

“Definitely something Damian would enjoy." Olive agreed, sipping at her hot chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief. "And what was the result of your interrogation?"

Marinette opened her mouth to answer when the oven beeped, giving her the perfect excused to close her mouth, offering her roommates a slight smile as she jumped off the counter and went over to the fridge, pulling out the trays of chilled pastries, the dough firm and cold beneath her fingers. As she uncovered the trays, Olive and Maps edged closer, clearly not deterred by the short interruption but also curious as to what Marinette had made. Marinette grabbed the small bowl of egg wash from the fridge, dipping her pastry brush and methodically painting each pastry until they gleamed with a golden sheen.

“You’re not getting out of answering- but what are those?” Maps inquired curiously as Marinette put the trays in the oven.

“Chausson aux pommes.” Marinette answered, setting the timer on her phone before turning her attention back to her roommates. “Apple turnovers.” She translated with amusement.

Olive’s eyes widened with delight. “You made homemade apple turnovers? Marinette, you’re spoiling us.”

Maps immediately leaned against the counter, nose twitching as the scent of baking pastry began to fill the kitchen. “I knew there was a reason I liked living with you,” she said, only half-joking.

Marinette rolled her eyes, but affection warmed her smile. “If you want anything freshly baked in the future, then I expect my answers to be respected. One question at a time, no shouting over each other. And your time is up when the timer is.”

Maps and Olive shared a look.

“Deal.” A third voice answered before either roommate could.

“Good morning, Pomeline.” Marinette greeted with a slight raise of her mug and an amused smile.

Maps crossed her arms, already bristling with frustration. “Wait, wait, Pomeline doesn’t get to set the terms! She already got to interrogate Marinette last night. She can’t just waltz in and call the shots now!”

Pomeline fixed Maps with a flat look, unamused. “First of all, I did not ‘interrogate’ Marinette. I merely ensured that her date went well enough that introducing her to our friend group later wouldn’t be a disaster. There’s a difference.”

She set her mug down with a soft clink and arched an eyebrow at Maps. “Second, you know very well that food rights, especially the distribution of fresh treats, are a collective decision. You can’t just leave me out because you’re feeling impatient.”

Olive snorted into her mug, clearly entertained, while Marinette hid a smile behind her cup. Maps looked mutinous, but couldn’t quite argue with Pomeline’s logic.

Just then, Marinette’s phone buzzed loudly on the countertop, cutting through their bickering. Maps whipped around. “Wait! That’s the timer already? I didn’t even get to ask any questions!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and picked up her phone, thumb swiping over the screen. “It’s a text message, Maps. The timer hasn’t even gone off yet.”

She glanced at the message, blinked, then read it again. Pink crept up her cheeks, warming her ears. Olive, ever observant, grinned. “Was that Damian? Did the date really go that well?”

Marinette ducked her head, pretending to fuss with her mug. “Yes, it’s Damian. He’s just checking in with a good morning text, nothing more.” She says while sending a text back.

Pomeline raised a brow, her voice dry. “That’s considerate.”

Olive leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re blushing, Marinette. So, is this a one-sided thing, or should we expect another date in your future? We need to know if we should get invested or not.”

Marinette sighed, tapping her mug, knowing that it was futile not to answer, as her roommates could quite literally just text Damian themselves since he was their friend first. "Yes, we will see each other again. He asked last night, and I said yes."

Maps let out a whoop, pumping her fist in victory. "Knew it! Knew you two would hit it off!"

Olive, ever the calm counterbalance to Maps' exuberance, smiled warmly and nudged Marinette’s shoulder. "I’m glad. You look happy, Marinette. It's nice to see."

Marinette’s blush only deepened, but she couldn’t hide her smile. "I am. It was good,  different. I had never done a compatibility date before, so it was a little intense sometimes, but in a good way."

Pomeline, arms folded and expression unreadable, gave a short nod of approval. "Damian’s intensity is part of his charm, if you can handle it. You’re one of the few people I thought would be able to match him beat-for-beat.” The ‘and it looks like I was right,’ was left unsaid but not unheard.

Maps, never one to let a moment sit, leaned across the counter, her eyes wide and eager. "So, what did you actually do? Did you two just sit there and swap life stories, or was there, you know, actual chemistry?"

Marinette laughed, the last of her embarrassment melting away in the face of Maps’ relentless curiosity. "We talked a lot, actually. We talked about family, future, boundaries, and weird pet peeves, what we want out of life, and yes, I suppose there was chemistry. Enough that we lost track of time until it started to rain.”

Maps groaned dramatically. "Ugh, you two are so mature. When did we all get so grown up?" She pressed both palms to her cheeks, only half-joking, while Olive snickered behind her mug.

"So, what happened after the rain?" Olive prompted, eyes glinting as she leaned against the counter. "Did you two just run for cover or...?"

Marinette offered a small smile, warmth in her eyes as she remembered. "We ducked under one of those covered structures- with the benches?” She tries to explain, making a house shape with her arms.

“A gazebo.” Pomeline supplied.

“Sure.” Marinette assumed Pomeline was correct and continued. “We stayed there long enough to get our bearings, he gave me his jacket to borrow, and then we headed back into the rain so he could walk me back.”

Olive let out a low whistle. “Dramatic and chivalrous.”

Marinette shook her head, but her grin was soft. “It was sweet. He didn’t say much on the walk, but he made sure I didn’t step in any puddles. And when we got to my building, he asked if we could see each other again.”

Before anyone could tease her further, the timer on Marinette’s phone finally went off, its cheerful chime breaking the moment. She hopped off the counter and headed straight for the oven, slipping on her mitts. With practiced care, Marinette pulled out the trays of golden, flaky apple turnovers. The smell of warm pastry and cinnamon-sweet apples filled the air, making everyone in the kitchen go noticeably quiet for a few seconds.

Maps let out a dramatic sigh, unable to contain herself. "Honestly, I did such a good job matching you two up. If it weren’t for me, this whole adorable love story wouldn’t even exist!"

Pomeline, still leaning against the counter, deadpanned, "Marinette and Damian are literally the only successful blind date you’ve ever set up for anyone in our friend group."

Maps just grinned, undeterred. "Hey, I stand by my record. Quality over quantity!"

Olive laughed, reaching for a pastry but waiting for Marinette’s nod. "Well, here’s to the one pairing that worked out, and to Marinette’s baking."

Marinette sighed, cheeks pink but eyes bright, as she placed the trays on the table. Surrounded by the laughter of her friends and the scent of fresh pastry.

Marinette busted out everything she could think of, but every swing, every kick was blocked or redirected.

But on the instance of having both of her hands held back, Marinette noticed Ra’s stance. 

He had leaned his leg back…he was using his leg to hold her back…he was getting tired.

Seeing an opening, Marinette loosened her attack and used Ra’s knee as a spring board and swung herself over him, grabbing hold of his wrist and flipping her along with him.

While she landed on her feet, Ra’s landed on his back, letting out a groan as the air from his lungs rushed out of him.

This is it!

Marinette reached for his throat, her Cataclysm just millimeters away from Ra’s when she heard the cocking of a gun and soft whimpers. 

She didn’t need to turn around to know who was the one crying nor who that gun was being pointed to.

”You’re going to kill him after fighting him?” Marinette scoffed. “You should’ve just given him back to me. Why kill him now?”

“His death will hurt you more than it will hurt me.”

”You’ll be losing an heir.”

”As long as your blood runs through his corpse, the boy will still hold value for the league, even if he is a corpse.”

”How sick must you be to-“

She felt something pierce right through her body, her body jerking forward as it did. 

She lowered her gaze to look at the spear that pierced her chest -oh…seems like it was her heart- as well as Ra’s arm. 

She felt the cold surrounding the spear, feeling as her heart grew heavier by the second with each drop of blood that gushed into it. 

Her heart tried to beat despite the foreign body rammed through it, but with each beat, Marinette could only feel herself slip further away from her consciousness.

She felt heavy, tired.

Her chest felt heavy. She needed to close her eyes.

She needed to sleep this off.

.

.

.

Yeah, she’ll feel better if she…just…sleeps…

-

Ra’s watched as the light in Marinette’s eyes faded with each breath she tried to take, watching as her Cataclysm sputtered and flickered until it dwindled to a small flame and then disappeared. 

He watched as her body collapsed on top of him when the spear was pulled out, Ra’s quickly shoving her body off of him. 

Slowly, he sat up, feeling his adrenaline leave his body. As much as he wanted to let it all seep out before he got up, he needed to-

“Sir, something is wrong with the child.” The guard holding Damian said, Ra’s turning to see the boy failing about like a fish out of water. 

Quickly getting up, Ra’s rushed to grab the writhing boy.

”Stay still!” Ra’s tried to order, thinking the boy was trying to escape but noticed that the boy was clawing at his chest, as if trying to tell him something.

He lifted the boy’s shirt but saw nothing. He managed to glance at the boy’s face, expecting to see rage, anger but was met with fear…a fear he had seen before: of death.

What was going on? What was wrong with the boy?

Would he tell him what was ailing him if he let him speak?

The minute he took the cloth that was keeping the boy silent, Ra’s didn’t expect gargling to emote from the boy…it was as if he was drowning…

Drowning…

Clawing at his chest…

Ra’s turned back to look at the girl he just finished killing and turned back to the boy in his arms

Ra’s watched as the boy slowly stopped flailing, his eyes becoming glossier by the second.

Then, he stopped moving. He stopped breathing

“Boy.” Ra’s waited for a response. “Boy.” Ra’s shook the boy. “Damian!” But still no response.

What was going on?

”Is he…dead sir?” The guard asked, Ra’s ignoring the question, hoping it wasn’t the case.

He didn’t manipulate Marinette into doing this, held her hostage for four years  and even fought her just to lose in the end. This was unacceptable!

Ra’s stared at the child, as if staring at the body would give him some type of-

Ra’s stared at the odd way Damian’s shirt clung to his body, wondering why the shirt sank deeper into Damian’s body than needed. 

Ra’s pressed his hand against Damian’s chest, wondering if he saw that right. 

Why was there a cavity in his chest?

Quickly lifting the toddler’s shirt, he managed to not be taken aback upon seeing the wound on the boy’s chest. 

A clean wound from front to back. 

A wound that cut cleaned through the child’s heart-

Oh. 

.

.

.

So that’s what it was. 

”That girl cursed this child.” Ra’s concluded. “Quick, bring her with us to the Pit!”

Ra’s rushed to the Pit, wondering if they were still in the time frame to reverse all of this.

The minute they made it to the room, Ra’s ordered the guard to dump Marinette into the Lazarus’ Pit, watching her body sink a bit into the water before back to the top.

They waited seconds, minutes…

Ra’s waited…and waited…

Yet her body continued to float lifelessly, having drifted to the deeper ends of the Pit.

Did they throw her in too late? 

Was this it?

Or was he missing something?

Ra’s looked back at the boy in his arms, wondering if this was it.

“Haunting me until the end, Guardian?” Ra’s sighed. He threw the boy’s corpse into the Pit. “For once, you won.”

He turned around to leave when a blinding light filled the room, Ra’s whipping his head when he heard screams and gasps behind him, his eyes widening upon seeing Marinette making her way to the crying boy.

”Seize them and keep the boy away from her!” He yelled, watching as his guards pulled the boy out the waters first and then Marinette. ”Bring her to me.”

He watched as they brought her to him, forcing her to kneel before him. When her head was lifted to make her face him, he was met with the same angry eyes she had seconds before her death. “Welcome back, Guardian. Seems like it would take more than death to get away from the League.

Come now. We have much to discuss regarding your little…trick.”

-

“I told him about the spell I placed on you.” Marinette whispered. “How I would take all the damage for you, no matter how little it was. 

But if you were dealt a lethal blow, I will die…and you will follow as well unless you were treated before you succumbed to your death.”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Upon hearing that, Ra’s made the decision to let me go, saying he no longer needed me to teach you ancient magic since you were immortal now.”

“So you left me there? Just like that?” Damian asked her. “You gave up on me even though you said you loved me? That you would keep me safe?”

“No! I love you with my entire being and still do!” Marinette exclaimed. “ButI I was running out of plans Damain…my strength wasn’t enough.

And if my leaving meant you kept living…then that was enough.”

Damian stared at Marinette with unshed tears. 

“You abandoned me.” He wiped away a tear that dared to shed, feeling his body tremble. “Perhaps you thought you did the right thing in leaving me behind, but you should have known Ra’s was not exactly the soft type.  

You trying to make amends now does not erase the years I suffered under the League’s roof.

The endless training, the times I was left to fend for myself on that cold mountain and remote jungles… 

You broke your promise to keep me safe.”

“I know.” Marinette whispered, gripping the blanket in her hands. “I know I did and I’m not asking for your forgiveness. 

I know that will take time for me to earn. 

I’m only asking for your understanding.” She reached out to wipe away a tear on his face only for Damian to swat her hand away. 

“Why now? Why ten years later after I already have a family?”

“I didn’t know about you living with your father until recently and as for searching for you know…” Marinette looked at her hands. “After I left you, I returned to the Temple where I was trained and searched for my old mentor.

He nursed me back to health and helped me figure out my next steps…or at least I wanted him to help me take you out of the League.

But he refused, going as far as placing a spell on me to prevent me from going near the League ever again.” Marinette balled her fist. “He further weakened my resolve when he told me about my parents…or rather, parent.” 

Marinette let out a shuddering sigh. “I found out my mother died a day before I made it to the Temple…they said she couldn’t bear the anguish of my disappearance anymore…

My father became depressed due to her death and I-I couldn’t find it in myself to not make my way back to Paris. I didn’t want him to think I was still missing…so I went back.

He died a month later despite my return but he said he was glad to have at least witnessed me get married in my mother’s wedding cheongsam before dying.” 

Damian knew he shouldn’t fully blame Marinette for leaving him behind, he should’ve known that she did everything she could to take him away from there… and yet-

“So just because your mentor forbade you from going back, you decided to move on? To forget-“

”There wasn’t a single day where I didn’t think of you.” Marinette firmly told him, meeting his eyes. “After all, every cut you got on your hand, every blow you took from your training- I felt everything because of the spell.

The stronger the punch, the higher the fall- I would experience it in the form of a sudden pain, a sudden seizure…

I ended up being bed bound during the first few years, probably due to the intense training Ra’s had you in as a child. 

They slowed down once the years passed and you got older.” Marinette frowned. “Because I was so keen on the developments of your training, I knew something was wrong when I suddenly collapsed in my home after feeling a sharp pain through my arm after years of dull pains.”

”But how did you track me to Gotham? For all you could have known, it could have been a fluke.“

”I may not be a hero any longer, but that doesn’t mean the intuition left me.” Marinette said. “But all it took was researching every little crime and villain activity throughout the world and looking further into the odder ones.

Ones where too many coincidences overlapped and would otherwise look normal to the ordinary detective but not to someone who knew League patterns.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “And unfortunately I managed to link too many coincidences to Gotham and upon seeing one Bruce Wayne being targeted and thinking the worse, I booked a flight despite Adrien’s admonishments.

And lucky for me, I managed to run into Talia and her new creation targeting…you.”

“New creation?” Damian tried to think about the night he was attacked, vaguely remembering having fought someone older than him. An adult… “Was it some new “heir” she was trying to train?”

“She cloned you Damian.” Marinette cut him off. “She cloned you and boosted his development to replace you.” 

“What?” He asked in disbelief. “What is the point of-”

“Because you no longer fit the League’s criteria for its next leader. Living with your father has changed your mindset and in seeing that, Talia deemed it necessary to get rid of you.”

Damian knew Talia wasn’t exactly the best of mothers out there and he knew she didn’t fully love him to the extent a mother should…but to want to kill him simply because he was no longer of use to her? To the League?

She should’ve just stripped him of- “-your title is what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” Marinette finished his thought. “I asked her the same thing.”

“And what did she say?”

“She hated that your father managed to take you away from her and that when she spoke to you, it reminded her of the way you used to act when she took you after taking you away from me.”

“The way I spoke bothered her?”

“You reminded her of me: free spirited and merciful.” Marinette let out a laugh, “Although I also reminded her I’m more than just that when I killed her clone while taking a stab to my abdomen.”

“So that’s why you’re hospitalized.” Damian whispered. “You took a hit for me.”

“Although I forgot the spell works both ways.” Marinette confessed. “But at least you only got temporary amnesia from it. Thank kwami.”

“You didn’t have to do-”

“It was the least I could have done at the time.” Marinette said with a smile. “And I would do it again if it meant saving you, Damian.”

“You don’t have to put yourself in danger for my sake.” Damian asked of her, feeling Marinette place her hand on his cheek. “I’m not a baby anymore. I’m not a child.”

“But you always will be. Now, in ten years- forever.” She placed a kiss on his forehead, a small emblem appearing on it before it disappeared. “A mother’s job doesn’t ever stop.

Damian quickly touched his forehead. 

“What did you do?”

“I changed the spell. Rather than one that shares the pain, I placed one to lessen the pain.” She narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t mean you're allowed to become more reckless than what you already are.”

“Who said-” Damian started only for Marinette to cut him off.

“Your father. We talked as we cleaned up Talia’s mess and helped heal you.”

“I see.”

The two sat in silence, feeling the air grow awkward. “Are…are you going back to Paris after you get discharged from the hospital?”

“Paris? Oh! No, no, I live in Central at the moment.” Marinette looked at Damian. “But I don’t plan on going straight there at the moment. After all, I finally found you.” Marinette pulled Damian into an embrace, this time, Damian quickly embracing her back, his grip tight on her. “And I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon. Got that?”

Damian hummed in acknowledgement.

“Thank you for finding me Momma.” Damian managed to say without letting his voice crack. “Thank you for protecting me.”

Thank you for loving me.

Thunk.

“What to do, what to do,” Marinette muttered, throwing another dart at the foam board.

Thunk.

School has been over for weeks.

Thunk.

She had finally received her bac grade.

Thunk.

It was an eighteen. An eighteen. After everything was said and done, after Madame Mendeleiev had made a big deal about how “God gets twenty, teachers get nineteen, and the best student ever will get eighteen”, she had done it. Marinette had gotten an eighteen.

Thunk.

Not that it matters since she wasn’t going to university because, despite being able to get eighteen on le bac, she’s too stupid to do anything right.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk!

It’s not like Marinette had missed the application deadline on purpose. There had just been more important things to do, like finally taking down Hawkmoth, and then she had to deal with the aftermath of the whole world suddenly knowing that Paris had been in the middle of a war for years. All of a sudden, Marinette had the Justice League breathing down her neck, asking question after question about why they hadn’t been contacted, when she had, or how she planned to secure the miraculi she had retrieved, like it was any of their business!

Thunk!

Ƙⱳąɱį of the in-between! They had tried to tell her, the Grand Guardian of the Miracle Box, how it would really be best if they were the ones to hold on to them. As if it wasn’t her, quite literally, life-bound duty to protect and care for the Ƙⱳąɱį and their miraculi.

Ugh!

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

...and now she was out of darts, and pissed off, and no closer to figuring out what to do.

Sighing, Marinette got up and walked to the foam board, plucking the darts with a little more force than was probably necessary. A knock on her door similarly pulled Marinette from her spiraling thoughts. Not even a moment after the initial sound, the hatch creaks open, revealing Alya in all of her freshly styled glory.

“Hey,” Marinette greeted with a warm smile, letting the darts in her hand roll from her fingers onto her desk as she passed it on her way to greet her friend. “How was it?” She inquired, hugging Alya quickly before ushering her deeper into her room and gently shutting the trapdoor.

“Girrrrl! It was so awesome!” Alya cheered. “The whole, ‘never meet your heroes,’ thing? Does not apply to the goddess that is Lois Lane.”

Marinette let out a snort at her friend's reverence.

“I’m glad it went well.”

“Well? It didn’t go well. It went amazingly. Ugh- what I wouldn’t give to work under a woman like her.” Alya whined as she flopped onto the chase. Which only served to draw out another round of laughter from the designer. Something that earned a glare from Alya as she rolled over to level a look at her. Not that the stern look lasted long, as it melted away into warmth. “Thanks again for getting me that invitation. I never would have been able to go to an event like that on my own.”

“It’s no problem, really. Aunt Penny’s invitation would have been wasted on me, and you know I’m always happy to help.” Marinette waved off, taking a seat at her desk since the chase was fully occupied with the way Alya was still sprawled over it, even if she was facing Marinette now and was no longer face down in the cushion.

“I suppose it would have been a waste.” Alya drawls teasingly. “Can’t really make any new, important connections if you already know everyone who is big and important at an event like that.” The brunette sighed, a dreamy and over dramatic thing as she placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, to have the rich and famous throwing themselves at your feet.”

“Shut up!” Marinette groaned, dropping her head onto her desk. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

Now it was Alya’s turn to laugh as she pushed herself up.

“Obviously.” Alya agrees with a roll of her eyes. “You know I’m just playing, girl.” She chuckled.

But when Marinette doesn’t laugh along with her this time, she pauses, giving her friend a once-over. Noticing the tense posture despite Marinette’s defeated slump, she took to looking around her friend’s room for clues. Alya’s eyes latched onto every minute detail with a perception she had honed from years of being the LadyBlog reporter. There wasn’t much around the room to go off of, at least nothing that looked out of place or new, so Alya’s only hint that something other than her joking commentary about Marinette being a magnet for the rich and famous is the fact that Marinette has her dart board out, which means she was upset way before Alya had even gotten there.

“Alright, spill.” Alya prompted, crossing the room to join Marinette at the desk, leaning against the wooden structure the designer was slumped against. “What’s up? You’re doing the whole, silently spiraling thing, and you know that’s not allowed- and don’t even say it’s nothing or it’s fine, I will get the spray bottle again. Do not test me!”

Marinette snorts at the threat, but it came out short and thin. More of a choked-off noise than anything else. Lifting her head to give Alya a pitifully sheepish look.

“I may have messed up,” Marinette admitted, earning a raised brow.

“Like ‘Oops, I just ordered ten yards of the wrong fabric’ kind of messed up, or ‘Accidentally on purposely staging a semi-hostile but completely legal takeover and rebrand of the company Gabriel in order to liberate the damsel in distress that is our sweet summer child Adrien Agreste’ kind of Oops?” Alya inquired. Receiving an incredulous look for both the comparison scale used and how fast and smoothly Alya had said it, without stumbling over her words.

“How long have you had that one ready?” Marinette couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Which, of course, got her a deadpanned, “Since the incident where you accidentally on purposely staged a semi-hostile but completely legal takeover and rebrand of the company, Gabriel, in order to liberate the damsel in distress that is our sweet summer child, Adrien Agreste. Now don’t change the subject. How bad of a mess up are we talking about?”

Marinette tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes.

“You just like saying that whole thing, don’t you?”

“Obviously.” Alya grinned. “It’s a mouthful, so it’s fun, and it's a statement that properly shows off and credits my best friend for her insanity. Of course, I like saying it. Now spill.”

Sighing, Marinette sat up, turning sideways in her chair to give Alya her full attention.

“I missed the university deadlines.”

Alya blinked, expecting a punchline to follow that kind of statement from the designer, but Marinette only fiddled with her sleeve, eyes fixed on the floor, she realized that it wasn't a joke. 

“Wait, what?” Alya’s voice pitched up in shock. “You practically invented color-coded to-do lists. You set calendar reminders for my own internship apps. What happened?”

Marinette gave a weak smile. “Yeah, well. Turns out it’s easier to remind other people than yourself. I just got busy and kept thinking I’d do it later. Too much was going on, with school, the bakery, and helping Adrien with the whole ‘get a normal life’ operation. Things piled up and… I didn’t even realize the deadlines were passing until it was too late.”

Alya’s eyes softened, then went sharp with the glint of a plan. “Okay, so, maybe the Paris deadlines are toast. But hey, it’s not the end of the world. Some universities in the States are still open for fall apps. I saw a thread about it, rolling admissions and all that. We can look it up together, see if anything clicks for you.”

Marinette blinked, hope flickering. “You really think it’s not too late?”

Alya grinned, “If there’s one thing us backup heroes know, it’s how to improvise. We’ll get you somewhere amazing. Promise.” She assured Marinette, bumping her shoulder teasingly. Completely missing the look of guilt that flashed too quickly over Marinette's features when the topic of being a backup hero came up, before she buried it behind an appropriately optimistic look.

“Okay, let’s check it out.” Marinette breathed, Alya’s pep talk having reignited some of her hopes for the future, at least enough to pull Marinette out of her spiral to look into schools in the States.

“Greet!” Alya cheered, hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk, already pulling up university lists and forums. Her fingers flying over her phone’s screen as she taps and types.

Marinette stared for a moment, then shook her head with fond amusement as she booted up her laptop. Letting the familiar hum of her poor, achedemically abused machine, grounding her. Within minutes, their screens were filled with tabs of university websites, deadline trackers, art program rankings, and application guides. Every once in a while, Alya would tilt her phone so Marinette could read something, but the more schools she looked into, the more overwhelmed Marinette got. Her eyes widened with every new tab that Alya showed her. California, New York, Illinois, Texas…

There were so many states, each with dozens of universities, each with its own forms, essays, and requirements. The more she scrolled, the more the choices blurred together, until it all felt like an impossible mountain. Alya, being the observant friend that she is, noticed Marinette’s growing anxiety and hopped off the desk.

“Hang on,” Alya instructed, grabbing four of the darts from the desk and a map that had been left to gather dust with the rest of Marinette's studying supplies. Walking over to the other side of the room, the reporter placed the map against the foam board, which was covered with pinholes, and used the dart to stick it to the board. Each dart pinning a corner to keep the map in place. Once Alya was satisfied with her work, she walked back to Marinette, grabbing a scarf off the coat hook as she passed.

“Come on, up you get.” Alya urges so she could step behind Marinette and tie the scarf like a blind fold.

“Alya- what?” Marinette laughed, but allowed her friend to do as she pleased since it meant not having to focus or plan anything.

“Here,” Alya states. Placing a dart in Marinette’s hand. “Hold that tight.” The brunette instructed before she began spinning the designer in circles. “We’re leaving it to fate. Blindfold, spin, and throw. Wherever it lands, that’s where you apply.”

“What if it ends up in the ocean?” Marinette squeaked.

“Then you’re going to Atlantius University or something.” Alya shrugged. “Better aim well if you don’t want to  practice holding your breath.” She states nonchalantly as she continues spinning her friend.

Marinette laughed, half-desperate, half-relieved as Alya spun her gently, enough times to make her giggle with dizziness. When the world stilled, presumably in the direction of the dart board, Marinette steadied her stand, took aim, and threw.

Thunk!

The dart hit, with far more force than Marinette had expected from her throw, startling her slightly. She pulled off the blindfold, blinking as the light filtered back into her vision.

Alya whooped. “There you go, girl. Choice made. Looks like Lady Luck is sending you to Jersey! I’m looking up every New Jersey university with open applications and awesome art programs, and you’re applying to all of them. No arguments!”

“Alya!” Marinette whined. “There’s no guarantee that I’ll get into any of the schools.”

“Mari. I love you, but you can’t be this oblivious. Girl, your academic grades were top of the school; any university would be luck yo have you.” Alya scoffed. “What did you get on le bac?”

Marinette muttered her answer as she turned to look away.

“What was that?” Alya inquired.

“An eighteen,” Marinette repeated.

“Seriously? You think they aren’t gonna take you with an eighteen?” Alya asked incredulously. “Don’t answer that.” She ordered, holding a hand up to stop Marinette’s retort. “Alright, first up: Rutgers. They’ve got a killer design program, and their application’s still open. Then Montclair, and- oh, look, there’s even a place called the ‘College of New Jersey.’ You can’t get more straightforward than that.” The reporter rattled off.

Marinette made a helpless noise, anxiety and hope warring in her chest. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered, but she couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips as Alya continued on as if she hadn’t said a word. Explaining statistics and fun facts about each school as she switched between websites at a speed that only someone used to quickly checking multiple sources in real-time during an interview could keep track of.

Alya gave Marinette a knowing look when the designer hesitantly pulled up a few of the universities aplications on her laptop. “You know, you’re allowed to be excited, Marinette. The world’s not ending. You’re not stuck. And you’re definitely not alone in this.” She nudged Marinette’s shoulder gently.

Marinette took a shaky breath. “Okay. Rutgers, Montclair, College of New Jersey. I’ll start with those.” She decided, steadying her hands as she got to work.

“Atta girl,” Alya grinned, already pulling up bookmarked essay prompts. “And don’t worry about the personal statement, between helping to save Paris as our favorite little mouse and running a fashion brand, you’ve got more material than anyone.”

Marinette hesitated, fingers hovering over her keyboard. “Yeah, about that… I’m not going to use any of the hero stuff in my essays.”

Alya’s head snapped up. “Wait, what? Why not? Marinette, how many people can say they’ve actually been a magical girl? That’s, like, once-in-a-generation stuff. Admissions people would eat it up!”

Marinette fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, gaze dropping. “It’s just… I never wanted to be a magical girl. Or a hero, or whatever you want to call it.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I was just the easy pick. Right person, right time.”

Alya opened her mouth, then shut it again, surprise flickering across her face. Marinette offered a small, apologetic shrug. “Some people grow up dreaming about the spotlight, but that’s not really the story I want to tell. I do better standing in someone else’s shadow. It’s why my role was recon and info gathering.” She stated, alluding to Multimouse’s publicly known role, even if she was talking about her time as Ladybug. Not that the reporter knew that.

Alya was quiet for a moment, the hum of Marinette’s laptop filling the silence. Then, softly, she said, “You know, wanting to be seen for who you are in the aftermath, that’s not a bad story either.”

Marinette let out a shaky breath, finally meeting Alya’s eyes. “What if who I am isn’t enough?”

Alya rolled her eyes, affectionate but firm. “Girl, you’re more than enough. And if any school can’t see that, they don’t deserve you. Besides, you’re not just anyone’s shadow. You’re the one who makes everyone else shine brighter.”

A small smile crept onto Marinette’s face. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t you dare,” Alya grinned, tossing Marinette a tissue box just in case. “Now. Which prompt are you starting with? I’ll help you brainstorm- no hero stuff, promise.”

Marinette nodded, determination settling in her chest. She clicked open the first application, hands no longer shaking as much. “Okay. Let’s do this.”