#ttt2024

Damian reached out gently to stroke her hair, turning her face towards him.

“Please, darling, tell me what’s wrong.”

She sat up, wiping her eyes, and handed him a card that had been on the floor next to her. A wedding invitation was clipped in the middle, and he set that aside before reading the handwritten message.

Dear Marinette,

I know you said you didn’t want to hear from me, but Adrien, and Maman and Papa, thought it would be good for me to write to you. After all, it has been three years since everything that happened.

The reason I’m writing is that Adrien and I are getting married! I was hoping that you would consider making a wedding dress for me. You are the best designer I know, and I trust that you would have no trouble creating the perfect dress for me. Please let me know how much it will cost. Adrien says price is no issue, so don’t even consider a family discount!

Your wedding invitation is enclosed. Please come, and bring your fiance! 

I hope you’re doing well in Gotham.

Your sister,

Marisol

Damian looked up, confused.

“You have a sister?”

“She is not my sister. My parents adopted her when I was twenty.”

“Marinette, my love, I know how hard it is to accept adopted siblings–”

“Don’t.”

She pushed him away and stood up, hands clenched so hard her knuckles were white.

“Don’t try to convince me I should talk to her,” Marinette snapped, snatching the letter out of his hands. “This situation is not the same as yours was. You don’t know anything about it.”

She stormed out of the room, cursing under her breath when her foot caught on a piece of fabric she’s thrown to the floor. A few moments later he heard cabinets slamming in the kitchen.

Damian found her there, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for the kettle to heat the water.

“I’m sorry,” she said, staring at the floor. “I took my anger out on you, and that wasn’t ok.”

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said anything until I knew more about the situation. Especially since I know you’re the kind of person who would normally accept an adopted sibling without hesitation.”

She broke out into sobs again. Damian pulled her into his arms, running his fingers through her disheveled hair as she buried her face in his chest. He held her until the kettle was finished, then kissed the top of her head and sent her into the living room while he prepared tea for them. 

“I don’t like to talk about her. I’ve told you some of the story already, and wanted to tell you everything. But thinking about her is upsetting. Speaking about it is almost impossible. All my words and feelings get jumbled up.”

Damian put their steaming mugs on the coffee table, then sat next to Marinette on the sofa and intertwined their fingers.

“Start at the beginning and tell me how you got to this,” he said, kissing her cheek. “And remember that I love you, and nothing you’re about to say can change that.”

She stared off to the side, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. He reached up with his free hand and pulled her lip free of her teeth, tapping gently so she would stop. Her blue eyes flicked to him. 

“You already know some of this story,” she began after a few moments of silence. “Hawkmoth held me captive, I was rescued, and we were able to defeat him shortly after.”

Her gaze returned off to the side, and he squeezed her hand, hating the thought of her being alone and afraid. 

“The whole story is…a lot worse. Gabriel kidnapped me and held me in his basement next to his wife. He even faked a ransom demand to my parents, and then offered to pay it, as a kind gesture for one of his son’s good friends. He created some sort of akuma or sentibeing to study me, to find out everything about me. He took my miraculous and drugged me so I couldn’t fight back. And then after he was done studying me, he created a sentibeing to be a perfect copy of me.

“And she was. Sentinette was exactly like me, as far as anyone could tell, and she took over my life. Any differences, especially in the beginning, were passed off as trauma from the kidnapping.”

Marinette let go and reached forward for her mug, holding it with both hands as she blew gently across the top and took a tentative sip. She was quiet for a moment as she watched the little, swirling wisp of steam.

“Her goal, of course, since she was controlled by Hawkmoth, was to get Chat Noir’s miraculous. He must have learned from Nathalie’s mistakes with Sentibug, because Sentinette played the long game. I mean, I had always told Chat that I wasn’t interested in being with him, and after Sentibug, he would be suspicious if Ladybug was suddenly into him. 

“So she started off keeping him at arm's length, and then slowly acted as though she was coming around, and became Chat Noir’s Perfect Woman, and everyone else’s Perfect Marinette. Everyone fell in love with her. She rekindled a relationship with my parents, because it had been suffering from me living a double life. She was everything to everyone.

“The only person who ever voiced any concern about the difference was the girl who had tried to bully me when we were in school. Lila Rossi. Gabriel had hired her as a model and a spy to keep Adrien in check, but with this plan in play, anything Lila had to say fell on deaf ears. He fired her and publicly backed Sentinette. And no one saw anything strange about that.”

She laughed bitterly, her chest heaving with a half-controlled sob, and she pressed one hand to her sternum. 

“Adrien fell in love with her, and at some point she also fell in love with him. I don’t think Hawkmoth really saw that part coming, but he should have, because that’s really what was his undoing. She loved them all, and because she was essentially made from me, she felt guilty about it. And Gabriel didn’t know about my pickpocket tendencies, so she was able to pickpocket her amok away from him, and told Adrien her secret identity. Well, my secret identity actually. I think she knew that he wouldn’t trust her if she said she was a sentibeing, so she kept pretending to be me, long enough to work out a rescue plan.

“She rescued me, and then all hell broke loose because at that point Gabriel knew he’d lost. And you already know how that went.”

“Yes,” he replied. “As you know, Wonder Woman forced us to stay out of it. But my father insisted on watching footage of the battle.”

“The hardest stuff mostly happened after Hawkmoth went down. Everyone was totally shocked to find out that I’d been gone the whole time, and that Sentinette–or Marisol as she likes to be called now–had been living my life.”

She took another sip, still clutching the tea tightly in both hands, then scooted herself back. She pulled her legs up and rested the hot mug on her knees. 

“I heard apology after apology for people not realizing I had been gone. And I couldn’t really be angry about it, you know?” She scoffed. “Gabriel gave Sentinette everything she needed to be the Perfect Marinette.

“She was me. For six months. Lived in my apartment. Slept in my bed, shopped at my market, helped my parents in the bakery like a good daughter. Everywhere I went, she was there. Even in my childhood home. I couldn’t be comforted by my own family because she was there. After everything that happened, my parents still accepted her as their daughter and gave her my old bedroom.

“I came back and I was a stranger in my own life. I couldn’t be in my home, couldn’t sleep in my bed or use my kitchen, or wear the clothes I made with my own hands because she was in everything.

“She took everything. All the people I loved, everything I had. And I couldn’t even hate her for it, because she was a sentibeing, with no choice in any of it.

“Adrien tried to tell me that all the love he felt for her was for me, but I could tell in his eyes it wasn’t true. He never even saw me until she came along.”

He clicked his tongue. Agreste was a blind fool, and Damian felt his ire rise at the mere idea that anyone would think a copy could ever be as wonderful as his Marinette.  

“And for all that she was like me, there were some things that were so different, and that’s what makes me so angry about it. She went to my classes at ESMOD, and her performance there was a disaster. If Gabriel hadn’t helped her, she would have completely ruined my education, because somehow he wasn’t able to give her any creativity. 

Her free hand waved through the air, sloshing tea on her black leggings. He removed the mug and set it next to his on the coffee table. 

“That’s why it hurts so much. In six months she never created anything, and not a single person who has ever said they love me noticed. I was in a cage while she pretended to be me, and they should have noticed! They should have known the difference but they were so pleased with the Perfect Marinette.”

He pulled her to him as tears streamed down her face, rubbing gentle circles on her back. After a moment she pulled away.   

“For a little while, I think people understood, and even shared, my reluctance to accept her. She was a sentibeing who helped Hawkmoth. But she is so accommodating. So perfect, and understanding, and none of it was her fault. I almost felt sorry for her, stuck being the perfect people pleaser Gabriel designed her to be. No one except me ever told her that she should try to be different.

“Eventually people tried to push me into accepting her, but I don’t think they ever really understood what it was like to feel like a stranger in my own life.” 

She looked down at their hands, twined together again.

“My parents tried to convince me we were sisters, that we were almost twins because she was just like me. She was all for it, of course, but I’ve struggled to think of her as anything other than Sentinette, the person who stole my life. They kept telling me it wasn’t her fault. 

“If I call her Sentinette, they all get upset because she chose the name Marisol. And fine, I can understand that, she didn’t choose to be created and she should be called by her name of choice, but she chose a name that is so close to mine. For months I couldn’t even stand to be called by my own name. 

“I felt guilty for being angry, and couldn’t be near any of them. So I moved here to Gotham. 

“And now she’s sent me this request to make her wedding dress. And please believe me, my love, when I say that I am over Adrien falling in love with her because I am. I hope they’re happy.”

She pointed to the table, where Damian saw the letter, crumpled into a ball. 

“But what she’s asking is for me to make her my wedding dress. She wants me to take that one thing that makes me different from her, and use it for her benefit, when she’s already got my whole family. When every time I look at her I am faced with the fact that no one who loved me could see that I was gone.

“And I’m so angry that my parents are still trying to force me to be her sister. It’s been three years and I still don’t want to be her sister. She only exists because someone kidnapped me and put her in my place. She’s not my twin. We weren’t raised together. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want to be forced to be a family with her. My parents, and everyone are constantly taking her side, because her existence is not her fault, but damn it, it isn’t my fault either!”

“But she’s so delightful, no one ever wants to hear that. They just want me to move on as if none of it ever happened. Be one big happy family, pretend as though they don’t all prefer her over me. And I can’t do that.”

Marinette finally turned to look at him, more tears streaming down her face.

“I have been so scared to tell you, and even more scared of you ever meeting her,” her wide eyes lending credence to her words. “I believe you when you say you love me. Everyone else who has ever met her prefers her over me. She was made to be the Perfect Marinette and I just can’t compete.”

They sat in silence as Damian thought through his response. After a moment, he noticed her breathing becoming a little bit erratic, so he pulled her back into his arms. 

“Breathe with me now, Marinette,” he said, gently stroking his hand through her hair and breathing in a deliberate pattern. When her body relaxed into his, he settled her into his lap and leaned back just far enough to see her face.

“My love, I understand why you’re afraid, and your fears are perfectly reasonable considering the extraordinary trauma you experienced. Please allow me to reassure you of several things.

“I love you. I love that you stutter when I fluster you, and the way you turn red when you’re angry, and that despite your tendency towards pleasing people, you never let me get away with any of my bullshit. I have no interest in a,” he raised his hands to gesture, “‘perfect Marinette’ because your imperfections are what make you you, and I like you just as you are, thank you very much.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“Based on the contents of that letter alone, she seems exactly like the sort of self-absorbed imbecile that I can’t stand to be around. When I take into account the story you’ve just told me, then I can assure you, without doubt, that if I ever meet her I will never see her as anything other than the person who has hurt you so deeply. 

“However true it may be that her existence isn’t her fault, she still hurt you. She continues to hurt you even when her actions are clearly within her own control. And I could never like someone who has hurt you.”

Marinette sobbed, and threw her arms around him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said after a few minutes, pulling away to wipe her face. “I got your shirt all snotty.”

“Tt. You’re the one who cares about clothes, not me. You can get snot on all my shirts if it means I still get to keep you forever.”

“Forever sounds nice.”

So, yeah, she was excited for this date.  But she wasn’t stupid.  They barely knew each other.  She didn’t even know his last name, let alone what he was capable of.  And she could protect herself and Tikki could assist, but Jason was easily three times as big as her.  His thighs were beautifully the size of her head.  If he wanted to hurt her, he might only get one hit in, but with his chest and biceps as beautifully sculpted and bulging as they were, it would only take one hit to do serious damage.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to give Alya attitude for being even more paranoid than she was.  “Yes, maman,” she snarked.

Alya grabbed the lip gloss back aggressively and tossed it in Marinette’s purse.  “Hey!  Check the attitude.  You know I just do it because I love you.”  She gave Marinette a pointed look but was only able to hold it for a few moments before both of them broke into giggles and playful shoves that didn’t stop until the buzzer sounded.

Their heads whipped toward the door and Marinette let out an excited squeal while Alya let out a long breath to psych herself up.  “Okay, game time.  Let’s meet Prince Charming,” she cheered and passed Marinette’s purse to her.

Marinette grinned at her and barely grabbed the bag before she rushed out the door.  “Bonne soirée, Jason!”  She lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

He took a moment to respond, just staring at her dazedly for a few seconds.  “Bonne soirée, Marinette.  You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.  You look amazing too.”  She grinned brightly up at him, getting lost momentarily in his eyes until Alya cleared her throat behind her.  “Oh, right.  Sorry.  Jason, this is my friend Alya.  Alya, this is Jason.”

Jason stepped forward, hand extended.  “Nice to meet you, Alya.”

She shook his hand with a polite smile.  “Nice to meet you too.”  She looked quickly between the two before widening her smile.  “You two look so cute!” Alya cooed loudly.  “Can I get a picture of you by the motorcycle?”  She motioned toward the bike, herding them into position near the back of the bike.

Jason raised an eyebrow and glanced around them quickly as he took a step towards the bike, noting the way the light darkened the closer they got to the light.  He took a few more steps before freezing suddenly and turning around.  “Oh!  This is the background or Proof of Life pic,” he exclaimed loudly.  “Oh, got it.”

Marinette and Alya looked at each other anxiously, but he nodded excitedly like he was proud of himself for putting the pieces together and started reaching into his pocket.  “Yeah, why don't you go ahead and take a picture of my license plate.  Here's my ID.  Go ahead and take a picture of that.”  He handed the ID over to Alya, who took it tentatively, but did exactly as he suggested and handed it back to him, sending furtive, confused glances over to Marinette the entire time.

“But, you know, those records can all be faked pretty easily,” he noted casually while he tucked his ID back into his wallet.  “They’re pretty easy to manipulate.  It’s better to look up my name.  It’s harder to fake a bunch of news articles.”

Marinette blinked at him.  He wasn’t wrong, but she hadn’t been expecting him to know that.  Most people didn’t.  But that wasn’t the part that concerned her the most.  “Bunch of news articles?”

He shrugged and let out a helpless noise, almost too nonchalantly.  “When you do the background check you're probably going to find out have a charge for manslaughter.”

Alya chuckled at his joke but was already looking up his full name, now that she finally had it, before he finished his sentence.  Her fingers were moving like lightning as she pulled up any and all mentions of ‘Jason Todd’ in the French or American news (just to start, she would widen her search later if she didn’t find anything there), her paper’s backlogs, and police records.

Marinette gave him an exasperated look.  He clearly didn’t know who he was dealing with.  He was playing with fire.  “Don’t say things like that to her, it’ll just set her o…”

A screech interrupted her sentence and Marinette and Jason whipped around to look at her; Marinette with an expression of shock and Jason one of resignation.  “You’re Bruce Wayne’s son?” she shrieked.

“You are?” Marinette asked, turning to Jason, eyes wide in surprise.  In all their conversations, he had never mentioned his family, almost like he was intentionally avoiding the subject.  She guessed that must be why.

“What is it with you and rich men’s sons?” she snickered without looking up from her phone.

“Oh?” Jason asked, fixing her with a teasing gaze.

“What the… You were serious!” Alya screeched before Marinette could respond.

Marinette turned back to her again, trying to construct what was going on through eye contact with Alya, but her eyes were trained incredulously on Jason.  “What?” Marinette asked.  Alya angled the phone toward her without taking her eyes off Jason.

Marinette only read the headline and the first few sentences before turning her uncertain, hurt gaze to Jason.  He held his hands up.  “In my defense, that guy had been and currently was trafficking little kids into the sex trade.  He had seven little girls in his warehouse when I stopped him.”

Alya and Marinette slowly looked back down to Alya’s phone and scrolled further down on the article.  “Yeah.  Yep.  That's what it says,” Alya nodded, still reeling from the revelation.

“And he attacked me.  I tried to deescalate.  The charges were dropped. Thank you.  And made sure the girls didn’t see anything,” he insisted earnestly.

Alya scrolled down further.  “Uh huh.  Okay.  Yeah.  Says that too.”

Marinette blinked a few times at the article before she was able to find her words.  “You warned us about the manslaughter but were hoping we wouldn’t find out about the Bruce Wayne thing?”

He scoffed and leaned back on the seat of the motorcycle; legs stretched languidly in front of him.  “I’m not embarrassed about the manslaughter charge.”  He paused and bobbed his head to the side in consideration.  “Well, no, I’m a bit embarrassed I got caught, but I stand behind what I did.  Being associated with Bruce though…” he shuddered violently.  “If there was one thing I could scrub from my record…”

Alya looked over to Marinette, having a silent conversation with her.  Marinette looked between her and Jason a few times then shot her a determined nod and sent Jason a brilliant smile.  “Right, well, we're going to be late if we don't go and I was really excited to try this restaurant.  See you later Al,” she chirped and slung her leg over the seat behind Jason who returned her smile, just as brightly and handed her a helmet.

Alya nodded and waved her off.  “Have a good time!  Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”  She paused for a moment to consider her words before continuing louder.  “Actually, do far less than I would do.  And Jason?”  She waited until he looked at her before continuing, pointing a warning finger at him.  “If you feel the need to do something like that again, give me a call.  I'm a reporter.  I can use the story.  Have fun kids!”

“Oh.” He looked away then, a strange knot forming in his gut. They had formed a partnership of sorts over the years, especially after Jonathan decided to take on the mantle of Superman from his father. Damian felt…bereft when the Supersons dissolved, and she had been an unexpected balm to that wound.

“I’m giving up the Miraculous,” she said, plucking at the hem of her oversized pink sweater with nervous fingers. “Hippolyta has agreed to become the guardian and the Miracle Box will be safe on Themyscira. She’s going to find a way to free the kwamis, and in the meantime she’ll take far better care of them than I ever could.”

Her smile was sad as she paused for a moment, looking away again before taking another deep breath. She let go of her sweater and clasped her hands together, fingers white from the tight grip.

“I’m here now because giving it up means I won’t remember.” She looked up at him then, blinking away tears.

“Won’t remember?” 

“Yes. I won’t remember anything about the Miraculous, being Ladybug, or many of the friends I’ve made since the box came to me.” One tear escaped and she reached up to brush it away. “I was fourteen when I became the guardian. Ten years of my life is already a lot to lose, but I’d rather start over now when I still have time to make a life, than live a whole life only to lose it all at the end.”

She reached forward grabbing his hand, her warmth tethering them both to that moment.

“I wanted to say goodbye before I go. I probably won’t see you again. And if I do, I won’t know you.” Her smile was watery as she squeezed his hand. “You’re a good partner, Robin. And a good person too, underneath that scowl. Don’t forget.”

His breath caught as she leaned up on her toes. With her free hand resting on one side of his face, she gently kissed his cheek. She turned away, letting go, but before her fingers fully left his grasp he tightened his grip. 

“Wait,” he said, pulling her back to face him. “Don’t go.”

Just a hair's breadth away, he leaned down, face flaming as he pressed his lips to hers.

He pulled away after a moment, worried when she stood still as a statue with her eyes closed.  

“I’ve loved you for so long,” she whispered.

Then her hands were in his hair and her lips were on his, clinging with desperation as he pulled her into his quarters. As soon as it clicked behind them, he pushed her against the door, pouring everything he didn’t know he felt into kissing her back. His heart thundered when she wrapped her legs around him and kissed down his neck, sending shivers down his spine as the fingers of one hand trailed down his arm. 

He relished her warmth as he wrapped his arms around her. Supporting her weight, he stepped away from the door and staggered to the bed, sitting down with her in his lap. Her eyes were wide when she pulled away. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, running the tip of her thumb around the edge of his mask.

“I am.” 

His pillow smelled of her when he woke the next morning to find a note she left behind.

Robin,

I can’t stay. I’m afraid that if I wait for you to wake up, then I will never be able to leave you. 

I’m sorry.

M

Dick sat on a bench in a park, basking in the abundance of sunshine in Paris. He never realized how much he missed the sun until he left the Gotham smog behind to visit a place with less gloom. And Paris was a city overwhelmed with cheer in comparison. 

Families were having picnics in the grass while their children ran around, laughing and yelling while they played games of tag or hide and seek, or giggled together while they waited for a turn on the carousel. 

He pulled out his phone to send pictures of the apartments he’d viewed that day to Damian, along with his own opinion on each one, when his attention was diverted by the sound of a distressed child. He looked around and saw a little boy crouched at the base of a nearby tree. None of the adults nearby seemed to be the child’s parents so he got up and went over to help. 

“Hello. Are you ok? Can I help you find your parents?”

The boy looked up at him with tearful green eyes and Dick felt a lot like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“This baby squirrel fell out of the tree and I can’t reach to put it back in the nest,” the child sniffled.

Dick stared at the boy, completely tongue tied, until he started to cry. He looked up and saw the nest was within his own reach, if he did a small amount of climbing.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I can put the baby back with his family.” 

He scooped up the tiny creature and carefully climbed the tree to put it back in its nest. Once the squirrel was back where it belonged, he swung down, landing back at the base of the tree with a thump.

“Wow, that was cool!” 

Dick bowed dramatically.

“Let’s get you back to your parents, ok?” 

“Ok!” 

The kid ran off across the park and Dick followed after, determined to find out who this child’s parents were. The boy glomped on a young woman with black hair sitting on a blanket with a group of her friends, talking and laughing about something. He stopped just close enough to hear what they were saying.

“I’m not saying he’s evil, but I am saying that all rich people are trash,” he heard a blonde woman say as she waved around a pair of chopsticks. 

“Chloe, you’re a rich person,” replied another woman.

“That makes me an authority on the subject, Alya,” the blonde snarked. “There’s no way a man that rich and that good looking doesn’t have some sort of major skeleton in the closet.”

“Uh…can we help you?”

“Maman,” the little boy said, “that’s the man who saved the baby squirrel.”

She stood up, brushing off her skirt and approached Dick, the little boy suddenly shy and hiding behind her. Her hand rested on top of the boy's hair. 

“I just wanted to make sure he got back to you ok.”

She smiled at him.

“Thank you for helping, Mr…?

“Dick. Dick Grayson.”

“Right. Dick. He’s always finding little creatures that need saving.”

They stood there awkwardly, all of her friends staring at him with expressions ranging from confusion to annoyance. 

“Well, nice to meet you then Dick, I hope your stay in Paris is pleasant.” 

She turned to go back to the group, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“Wait, please,” he asked, as she ripped her arm from his grip and shoved the boy behind her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…there’s not an easy way to ask, but, who is the boy's father?”

“It’s not any of your business!” she exclaimed, then shooed the child back to a tall blond man who’d stood up when Dick grabbed the woman’s wrist. 

“I know it’s not, I’m sorry, it’s only that he looks just like my younger brother. And I mean, like twins.”Marinette gaped at the strange man standing in front of her, absolutely terrified of the implications. 

He was the first person ever to indicate a connection to Thomas on his father’s side, and this whole ordeal was bringing up everything she’d worked so hard to get past. 

Just over five years ago she’d woken up in a hospital after a terrible accident that caused her to have amnesia. She couldn’t remember an entire ten year period of her life. If that wasn’t scary enough, two months later she’d discovered she was pregnant. With no memory of ever having slept with anyone, she was left completely in the dark as to who the father of her child was. 

She knew it wasn’t Adrien. Not only had he denied it, he even consented to a DNA test. His actions had helped smooth the path to rebuilding their friendship, and now he was part of her family as her brother. He even changed his last name to hers, so Thomas could have his Uncle Adrien be a real part of her family. 

Her parents were thrilled to gain a son and a grandson all at once. 

Whoever he was, he had never come looking for her or tried to contact her in any way after the accident. She didn’t know why, if he didn’t know or just didn’t care, but either way she was left alone to raise their child with no way to find him. It hurt Marinette that she had no way to contact Thomas’s father. He had a right to know he had a son, and Thomas had a right to know his father, but she didn’t even know where to begin looking. 

And now, here was a man who said her son looked just like his brother, and she was terrified that he would accuse her of keeping his brother away from his son and try to take Thomas away from her. Her heart was pounding and she was starting to struggle a little to breathe, until she felt Alya’s familiar grip on her shoulders, grounding her. 

Now was not the time to panic, not when she had Thomas to take care of. She reached up and grabbed Alya’s hand, giving it a squeeze so she’d know she was ok. Marinette glanced over to her friends to see that they were clearing up the picnic things, Adrien having taken Thomas home.

Marinette took a deep breath.

“Truthfully, I don’t know.”

“Girl, you don’t owe this guy anything. Even if his brother is the father.” Alya glared at Dick. “The guy never even tried to find you.”

She turned to her best friend, her heart full with the amount of love and protection she knew Alya felt for her.  

“I know Als. I do. But we also don’t know the reason behind it. If Dick can offer some answers, I want to try to find them. Worst case is that I’m no closer, and best case is that my boy will know who his father is. But I can’t do it if you aren’t with me.”

Alya pulled her into a hug. 

“Of course I’m with you. We’re all with you.” 

Marinette collapsed into her in relief. Then she turned to Dick. 

“I will tell you my story. You can take it, a photo of Thomas, and a DNA sample home to your brother to test. Tell him I don’t need anything from him, and if he is my son’s father he may choose to be involved or not. In return, I ask that you tell me the results, and if your brother is a match that you also tell me his name. Not for me, but so that when Thomas is old enough, he may choose to find his father.”

“And she wants that in a binding contract,” Alya said, pulling out her phone and typing furiously as she talked, and then looked up. “So you can’t weasel out of telling her. You’ll have one month, which is more than generous. I’ve already contacted Marinette’s lawyer to draw up the paperwork.”

“Ok. I agree.”

Alyawas now glued to her phone, messaging everyone, while Marinette’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She looked at it and sighed.

“Felix says to come to his office. He’s already there, drafting the contract.” She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t know how to take a day off.”

She turned back to Dick.

“Are you ready?”

Damian’s phone was ringing but he couldn’t find it, buried somewhere under a pile of discarded sketches. Whoever it was didn’t give up, continuing to call until finally, he pushed a pile of paper and heard it hit the floor.

Richard Grayson.

Of course. He accepted the call.

“Damian, finally!”

“Hello, Richard,” he answered. “Why are you calling me at four in the morning? I thought you had an early appointment for a viewing tomorrow.”

“I’m catching an early flight home, and I need you to meet me at the airport in Gotham and take me straight to the Manor.”

Damian stood up quickly.

“What happened?”

“It’s not something we should talk about on the phone. I swear, I’ll tell you everything when I get there,” Richard replied, followed by the sound of zipping luggage. “My flight leaves in two hours. Be there.”

The next eight hours while Damian waited for Richard’s flight to land were tedious. He rescheduled his meeting with his Parisian realtor, since he wasn’t sure now when he would be able to settle on a home there. He tried to sleep and when that didn’t work, he packed a few boxes of non-essentials he could do without until the move was complete. He thought about contacting his father but figured that if something was really wrong there, Selina would have called. 

Driving to Gotham was a chore, and he had to leave extra early to account for the morning rush hour in New York. He still only arrived just in time to see Dick standing on the sidewalk in front of the arrivals hall, waving him down. After the luggage was stowed, they drove towards Bristol and his father’s home.

He looked over at Richard, who was bouncing his leg. 

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“Do you have a secret love child you’ve never told me about?”

Luckily they were stopped at a light, so when Damian stared at his brother in disbelief, no accidents took place.

Richard pulled out his phone and opened his photos. The child depicted in the picture was the spitting image of himself at age five, except smiling for the camera. He pulled into the next available space on the street and took the phone from his brother. 

“Who’s child is this?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you unless you are, in fact, this boy’s father.” 

“What do you mean not allowed?”

“I mean, I signed a legally binding agreement stating that I wouldn’t say unless you’re a match.”

Damian scowled. 

“Damian, look at this child, he looks exactly like you. Do I need to give you the lecture I got about using protection?”

“Tt. I hate this conversation enough already.”

Richard just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I have never had unprotected sex, Richard.”

“So the child isn’t yours.”

Damian glanced to the side. 

“How old is he?”

Richard took his phone back and switched the screen to a document. “He’ll be five in February.”

“Then yes, he could be mine. It’s not a one-hundred-percent guarantee, is it.”

Damian felt a strange sense of calm come over him, knowing that this child, if he was his, could only belong to one person, and he had been looking for her for five years. Finally, he may have found her. He tuned back into whatever Richard was saying.

“...his mother gave me a sample of his DNA to do a paternity test. If you match, then I’m allowed to tell you who she is and how to find her.”

The drive to the Manor felt like it took too long, and waiting the two days for his father’s equipment to perform the test felt like an eternity. And then suddenly he was holding in his hand proof that he was a father, and the name of the woman he’d been searching for since the last time he saw her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And her son, his son, Thomas Emile Dupain-Cheng.

“Fortunately, no,” she agreed snidely putting far more meaning into the tone than the words would normally convey.

The tone must have hit their mark because he noticeably tensed then plastered on a hopeful smile.  “Can we maybe go to your apartment to talk?”

His hopeful smile faded at the unimpressed look on her face.  “No.”  She turned to the counter and finally ordered her café americano despite her hope of a relaxing few moments drinking it was looking less and less likely.

“I really would prefer to have this conversation somewhere more private,” he implored.  He moved in front of her so she had a clear view of his pleading, puppy eyes.

“I wouldn’t,” she shrugged as she moved to the side to wait for her coffee.

“Okay, how about we sit outside, and I can talk while you wait?  No pressure?”  This time there was no masking the pleading in his voice.

She sighed heavily and nodded in agreement, motioning toward an open table on the patio with a bit of distance from the other patrons.  “Marinette…”  The word was weighed down with anguish and tears started spilling out.  “Mari, I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.  It was all a mistake.  I never should have… I…”  He kept starting and stopping as his mind attempted to get everything he was thinking out at the same time.

“I’ve spent the last… since you left regretting how things ended, the things I did that contributed to it,” he ignored the scoff she let out and pushed through.  “I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t value you.  I do.  I do so much.  You were, are, amazing.  You were everything and I never showed you the kind of attention you deserved.  I should have.  I should have showed you every day how amazing you are, how much better you make my life…”  His next words got lost in the tears and quiet sobs he was letting out.

When her name was called after just a few seconds of the blubbering, she almost exclaimed out loud in relief.  The barista had definitely earned themselves a hefty tip.  When she got back to the table, he was still crying.  It was highly doubtful he had even noticed she had left. But as he was mid-sob when she returned, it didn’t feel quite right to just walk out.  But then again, it didn’t feel quite right to sit back down so instead, she leaned against the wall and pulled out her phone to scroll through her emails and shoot off a few texts.

It took a few moments for him to pull himself together and honestly, she wasn’t sure if they were real tears or another manipulation.  But ultimately, it didn’t matter because she didn’t care.  “What’s going on?” she asked in clearly false sympathy.  “Did your new girl kick you out after just a few months?”

He shot her a surly look and dropped his eyes.  “It’s been eight months.”

“It has?” she asked, this time with no falsehood in her voice, but rather the first sign of genuine curiosity.  She quickly pulled up the calendar app on her phone to verify his statement.  “Huh.  I didn’t realize.”  She tucked her phone into her back pocket and took a drink of her coffee with a soft smile.  “Time has really been speeding by so quickly.  I have not been paying attention to the calendar.”

He moved quickly over to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Baby…” he started, his eyes back to pleading as a further accentuation of his physical position.

Her expression instantly soured and her eyes steeled as she pushed herself away from him like his touch was liquifying her skin.  “Mark!  I am so not your b…”

Before she could finish the sentence, or rather her monologue of scathing observations of him and their relationship, ending any hope he might have that they could ever get back together, a single shot rang out and the wall just above his head exploded, showering both of them in red dust, followed only moments later by Red Hood dropping down in front of them.  "Sorry. Thought I saw something.  My aim must be off," he offered without a tinge of regret.  His eyes never left the man as he holstered his gun.

Marinette raised an eyebrow and pointedly brushed the dust and rubble off her clothes, not particularly inclined to give him any kind of reaction.  Mark, however, did not feel the same.  “What the hell!  Do you always shoot at the good guys?”

“I do have a history of it,” Red Hood acknowledged.  He stalked closer to them until he was looming over him.  “But I don’t see any good guys around here.  Do you?”

“I do,” Marinette perked up.  Mark shot Red Hood a smug smirk.  “Now,” she added pointedly with a flirty smile to Red Hood.

The man let out an aggravated growl.  “And I wasn’t?  I found you so we could have a second chance.  I told you how much I loved you.  I protected you.”

“Protected me?”  Marinette scoffed.  “From what?  Happiness?  Self-confidence?  Love?  You didn’t quite destroy me the first time, so you want another chance to finish the job?  No, you used me and I’m not willing or interested in giving you a second run at it.  I’ve moved on.  I’m happy.  You should work on yourself so you can find happiness in the future, Mark.  Because the way you’re going, you won’t be able to be truly happy no matter what you do.”

“Oh, I was plenty happy as soon as I dropped you,” he growled, pushing into her space to remind her how small she was compared to him.  “In fact…” he froze when Red Hood pulled out his gun again.

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Mark, you haven’t been truly happy in at least a decade.  That has nothing to do with me.  I hope you figure out what it is you need and can get it, but I won’t be there to see it.  Now I’m going to leave and enjoy this drink somewhere else and I’m going to trust Red Hood to keep you from following me and not injure you as soon as I leave.”  She leveled a pointed look at Red Hood and waited until he gave a grudging nod before leaving.

><><><><><><><>< 

Marinette quirked her head as she pinned a swath of fabric, analyzing the way it laid against the mannequin and the light hit it with a frown.  It wasn’t quite laying right, but she knew it could.  It was the perfect fabric for it.  She just needed to… her concentration instantly snapped as she felt arms wrap around her from behind.  “Well, hello,” she grinned as she melted into his embrace.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he drawled softly against her hair.

“You’re in a good mood,” she purred.  “Have anything to do with your patrol?”

He hummed in agreement and moved his lips lower.  “Came close to exterminating a bit of street vermin.”

Marinette snickered and let him nuzzle into her neck, stretching her neck to give him more access.  “You didn’t hurt him after I left, did you?”

“Not physically.”  She could hear his shrug in his voice more than see it.

“You had nothing to worry about with him, you know,” she chided without heat and backing it up by winding her hand into his hair.

“Oh, I do,” he acknowledged readily, not an ounce of doubt in his voice.

“He was kind of useful, you know.  He make me realize something,” she managed to say breathily.

He stopped peppering her neck with kisses and grumbled playfully.  “Oh?” he prompted as he fell back onto the couch, elegantly falling to the small area that was clear of fabric or other supplies and pulled her with him, so she landed squarely in his lap.  “That pathetic excuse of a manchild make you realize what an amazingly brave and strong catch you’ve made?”

She scoffed as she wiggled around until she found a more comfortable position, very much enjoying the muffled, discomforted groans Jason was letting out.  “No.  It’s our six-month anniversary on Thursday.”

He planted his hands firmly on her hips to stop her moving and took several heavy breaths before he managed a smirk.  “Six-month anniversary of our first not a date because ‘I’m not ready to trust anyone yet?’” he mocked playfully.

“No,” she grumbled, a hint of a smile on her lips as she purposefully, slowly twisted to face him.  “Six-month anniversary of the first time I let you kiss me.”

“Excuse me?” he gaped.  “Who kissed who?”

“I let you kiss me,” she repeated and nodded determinedly.

He leaned back to examine her, eyes narrowed, and clicked his tongue.  “Uh huh.  Let me kiss you back when you jumped me.”

Her jaw dropped.  “I did not jump you!” she gasped and added a smack to his chest.

He trapped her arm against his chest and shot her a devilish smirk.  “Just saying how I remember it happening.”

She scoffed and tried to free her arm, but he held it fast.  “That’s how you wish it happened.”

“That’s how I know it happened,” he smirked.  “You were all ‘oh no, I don’t trust anyone, men are all evil,’” he raised his voice in a comical imitation of her voice.  “And then bam,” he pulled her against himself and secured her there with an arm around her waist.  “One date with me and you were all ‘love is real’” he squealed.

She puckered her lips hard to keep them from quirking up, quite unsuccessfully and turned her face away from him.  “I was all ‘someone needs to take the hit for all humanity and get this menace off the market.’”  She sighed dramatically as she leaned back far enough if he didn’t have a solid grip on her hips, she would have fallen.  “I’ve always been too much of a martyr for my own good.”