genevrier | 💀 pour oublier ma peine immense

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💀 pour oublier ma peine immense

It had been a long and hard three years.

Ladybug had run out of fingers with which to count the sticky situations she and Chat Noir had been in because of Hawkmoth. But finally, finally, she and her partner had him dead to rights. As time went on, they had grown desperate, and they'd made mistakes - but nothing they hadn't been able to fix. He'd made mistakes, too, and that was how the two of them had managed to track him down.

Heart pounding, she cast her gaze down at the man that had been their adversary for so long. Hawkmoth stared back at the both of them with a dark glare full of loathing. There were a lot of things she had wanted to ask him when she finally caught up to him, but there was only one question she was actually able to form.

"How could you?" She whispered, her voice ragged. She was breathing heavily - the fight had taken a lot out of her. Out of her partner, and out of their enemy, too; had it gone on much longer, they all might have dropped dead out of exhaustion. "You hurt so many people."

Hawkmoth's eyes glittered, and he pressed his lips together into a thin line. Ladybug felt something roll down her cheek - sweat, she hoped, and not blood or tears, but she'd taken a hit to the temple earlier and she couldn't be certain that it wasn't bleeding (and in fact it was). But she was in better shape than him, at least. He was beaten down, he had lost.

All that remained was to take his Miraculous and make sure that Nooroo's power never, ever fell int the hands of someone like him ever again.

His refusal to answer stirred anger in her where there had once been pity.

"Men. Women. Children. You used them all - and for what? What on earth could have been worth it? I don't understand. Explain yourself, Hawkmoth."

He didn't answer. He looked between the two of them, seething. Ladybug scowled and knelt down in front of him, curled her fingers around his brooch, and yanked it away from his suit.

The magic holding his transformation together fell apart, and Nooroo emerged from the butterfly Miraculous at long last. Ladybug cradled him in the crook of her arm and watched as the facial features of their nemesis became clear.

A well-dressed man, middle-aged. Nobody she recognized. Without his Miraculous, he should have been powerless. Defeated. Done for.

She didn't catch his smirk until it was too late.

His hand darted into the suit jacket that hadn't been there before, and his fingers closed around something she couldn't see. "I'll make you understand," He snarled, and the next thing she knew his hand emerged from the jacket and the crack of a gunshot split the air. "Perhaps now we'll share the same wish."

There was a gun in his hand, Ladybug realized, as a dull roar and the man's twisted, bitter laughter filled her ears. He hadn't aimed at her. She turned toward her partner with dread.

He had aimed at him, and his laughter was not the laughter of a man who had missed his mark.

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With the context as muddled as it was for him, she knew that we're partners would give him the wrong idea. She also knew she couldn't say they were best friends (Nino was his best friend) or anything more; anyone else would be able to confirm they simply hadn't been that close in the months and weeks leading up to the confrontation with Hawkmoth.

"We're friends," She said gently. "And if you're happy to have me here, then here's where I'm going to stay."

...maybe her actions would speak more loudly than her words. Friends, yes, but not every friend would stay by an injured young man's bedside for a week before he woke up and indefinitely after he did. She, of course, was in love with him, so that accounted for why.

"Any time you want me to provide context for you on something... just say the word. If I know, I'll answer you."

Friends.

Something stung, deep in his chest, and he settled back against the pillows, sipping at his water. He didn't think she was lying to him, but somehow, he didn't feel like she was telling him the whole truth, either.

On the one hand, if it was anything like the news about his mother, he could sort of understand. On the other... this was his life. This was important to him, and he didn't like being sheltered. The way she touched him was intimately familiar. The way he responded to her couldn't be denied.

"... what kind of friends?" he asked, giving her a searching sort of look.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down, which was... pretty much an answer in and of itself.

"The kind of friends where..." She bit her lip. "...I'm not sure. I mean, I know how I feel - felt... b-but, I didn't really know how you felt... before the accident. Um."

Great. Great. She squirmed, a little uncomfortable with where this conversation was going; she didn't want to set him up with any expectations or make him feel like she was pressuring him.

...Chat Noir had loved Ladybug; she'd loved Adrien. It was complicated.

...

Maybe she could just say that.

"It's sort of complicated...?"

... oh.

That definitely answered things. Adrien felt a smile steal across his face, tried to keep it back at least a little, because he knew Marinette was worried.

Without hesitation, he reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. He didn't want her to stop touching him. Didn't want her feeling weird over it, second-guessing. But he also couldn't honestly reassure her. He had no basis for feeling the way he did, but he... trusted it.

"Then let's figure it out," he suggested. "Just... go with it."

Hopefully, that would relieve some of the pressure.

Her eyes widened when he took her hand, and her gaze snapped to him, searching his face. Whatever Marinette saw there made her expression soften, and she returned his squeeze with a soft, gentle squeeze of her own.

"One day at a time," She said quietly. "But... no pressure, or anything. I mean, I'm not pressured, I just don't want you to feel... pressured..."

He had more important things to focus on than her feelings, and the most important of them was his recovery. If he didn't feel the same way as he had when he was Chat and could remember the things he liked about her... that was fine. She would be there for him, regardless.

In Adrien's opinion, he already had plenty to like about her. She'd stayed by his bedside for more than a week, had seen him as a total wreck and still had no problem touching him, was sweet and encouraging and had already demonstrated an unwillingness to lie to him...

His father had allowed her to stay. He was giving her work to do, investing himself in her well-being. If that wasn't a ringing endorsement, he didn't know what was.

... and Adrien was a romantic. A hopeless one.

He settled back into his pillows, awfully tired, struggling to stay awake.

"How old are we now?" he asked, so he wouldn't ask how they met, what they liked to do together. He wanted to stumble across it on his own.

... and she looked older than what he felt.

Part of Marinette wondered how old he thought they were.

Younger than fifteen, certainly. If he'd thought his mother was still around at first, it had to be younger than that. She didn't want to give him too much of a shock, but the sooner he was aware of it, the better, so she squeezed his hand once more before she answered.

"Eighteen," She replied.

She kept her gaze on him, checking for any signs of worry. If he thought they were younger than fifteen, that would meant he'd "lost" more than three years of his life, and she knew that would have sent her into a tizzy if their situations were reversed. But he was stronger than she was, and he seemed to be drifting off, to boot; maybe he'd just accept it, internalize it, and think about it again the next time he woke up.

Eighteen.

Adrien's memory wasn't exactly linear at this point. There wasn't a perfect moment he went back to, leaving him scattered and with impressions that were clearer, the farther back he went. What he had was still disorganized, still cracked and mixed up with other things, when they appeared at all. It would take some time to heal and get things back in order.

Adrien hadn't had a concrete age in mind. Fourteen, fifteen... somewhere in there. To find that he was missing more than three years was rough. But as she said it, he heard the ring of truth in it.

The anxiety was there, but it was muted. His mind was protecting him from most of the distress by dampening his emotions, leaving him feeling exhausted. Her hand was grounding, relaxing, and when he sighed, some of the tension left. In the place between sleeping and waking, some things came easier than others.

"Then I have a lot to catch up on, Princess," he whispered, lacing his fingers together with hers.

He barely even realized what he said.

Her breath caught in her throat at the familiar nickname.

Princess.

Even when she and Adrien had lost touch after starting university, she and Chat Noir had remained close. She didn't see him as often as Marinette as she did as Ladybug, but they'd still occasionally hung out together.

There was a part of him, however small and subconscious it was, that still remembered her, even if he needed to be reminded of her name and the circumstances of their meeting. Things were going to be okay, even if it took time for it all to come back to the surface.

She smiled gently and squeezed his fingers.

"That's okay," She said softly. "We'll take it slow until you're all caught up."

Adrien smiled as he drifted off, breathing evenly, fingers finally going slack in hers. There was a soft knock on the door, and Nooroo flew up and into the collar of Marinette's overshirt, taking refuge with her as one of the nursing staff came in to check on Adrien, take his vitals, ask a few questions about how he was acting and reasoning. The nurse patted her shoulder and left not long after, and Nooroo was free to creep out from his hiding place.

"I wanted to see him," he admitted softly. "I probably confused him, but I wanted to see him again."

It had been such a long time.

"Are you all right, Marinette?"

She brought her hand up to her collar as Nooroo took shelter there, and turned her head to look at the nurse as she entered. Marinette was careful to answer the questions as accurately as she could, and once the woman left, she settled back into her chair and turned her attention to Nooroo.

"I would have done the same thing in your place," She admitted.

She sort of had done the same thing already. It was just that it was easier to explain away her presence at Adrien's side than a kwami's.

"...I'm okay. He's... he's doing better, so that's... it's a good thing, a great thing."

"Did he always call you Princess?" Nooroo asked, his voice softening.

Tikki was far from the only romantic among them. There had been no doubt in his mind, watching them from afar all these years, and Ladybug and Chat Noir felt deeply for each other. But that particular pet name hadn't been one he'd heard before.

It was a sign. A good one.

"Chat Noir called me that," Marinette said softly. "I mean... he called me that, when we met while he had his mask on and I didn't."

She didn't know for sure exactly how many Ladybugs and Chat Noirs there had been over the years, but she was pretty sure how tangled-up and convoluted their lives had been wasn't exactly common. What were the chances of them striking up a friendship with each other in every possible combination?

...maybe it meant something. She hoped that it did.

"Then that's a good sign, right? Even if he doesn't remember everything, he still thought you were familiar!"

Nooroo sounded overwhelmingly like Tikki when he was excited and happy, and it seemed that they could speak with no problem when Adrien was asleep. Nooroo wasn't at all worried about waking him.

"... he's still so much the same."

"I think so. I hope so."

It wasn't just the nickname - he'd even said that he felt like he should know her, even though he couldn't remember that name. Marinette would hold on to that memory as time went on. It could only get better from here, couldn't it? He'd weathered the worst of it.

"...from when he was younger, you mean?" She questioned with a tilt of her head. "What was he like as a kid, Nooroo?"

Nooroo settled down to smile, his eyes warm, distant.

"Always wanting to be held." That, above everything, he remembered. "You'd think nobody ever paid attention to him, the way he'd follow people around. He never liked being alone."

Settling down on Marinette's knee, Nooroo gave it a bit more thought. "When he first learned to walk, he wanted to run everywhere. But he wasn't very good at walking yet." Chuckling, Nooroo shook his head. "That didn't seem to bother him."

...that really did sound like him. Marinette chuckled fondly and reached over to smooth down some of Adrien's bangs.

"I can picture it," She admitted, imagining a small, bright-eyed bundle of energy managing a few steps forward, crashing to the ground, and then picking himself right back up. (She could also imagine Gabriel, looking distinctly pained every time he crashed down, but too far away to pluck him up before his son did it himself. She couldn't really picture his mother all that well; all she had to go on was a picture and a few scant words of description.)

She hoped he'd be able to run and jump as much as he liked soon. Since she couldn't do anything about that, though...

"I'm glad we'll be able to make sure he's not alone now."

Adrien's fingertips twitched as Marinette petted his hair. It was the same movement he'd made all through his coma, but this time, his eyelids fluttered. He made a small sound, turning unconsciously toward the warmth of her hand.

All of this without waking.

"Me too," Nooroo sighed happily.

"Gabriel had excellent reflexes!" he added with a tiny laugh. "If he was close enough, he would catch him. And Adrien would always fall asleep on him when he was a baby. None of us could ever figure it out. Gabriel wouldn't rock or sing to him. He'd just hold him and pat his back."

"What, really?"

Well, of course. Nooroo wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. Chuckling, she cast her gaze down onto Adrien's face and studied him for a few moments.

It wasn't quite as easy to imagine him as an infant, fast asleep in his father's arms, but that was mostly because there was a huge difference between a baby and a young man. Still - it did explain a lot. Adrien had clearly responded to his father's attention from a very early age. When he didn't seem to have it quite so much - when his father had grown more distance...

Her heart gave a sharp pang, and she reached for his hand and gave it a light squeeze. Gabriel wouldn't neglect him again. There was no way she would let him.

"I guess there are some things that just can't compare to the bond between a father and son."

"He did it again when he woke up," Nooroo pointed out thoughtfully. Of course, that probably had a lot to do with Adrien's head injury, but Gabriel had held him just the same way, and he'd calmed down.

Adrien's fingers twitched as Marinette took his hand, and he shifted, turning his head a bit with a little groan. He didn't fully wake up, but he half tried to grasp her fingers before his hand went slack again and his breathing evened out.

"I played with Adrien when he was a baby," Nooroo added, "But once he started walking I had to keep hidden more and more. Too much risk of him saying something to someone."

"...that's right, he did..."

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Marinette's thoughts started to wander, but they were completely and utterly derailed when she felt Adrien's fingers twitch and heard the rustle of his sheets as he shifted. Her gaze snapped to him and she watched him with concern as he settled back into slumber.

She did not let go of his hand.

"Wish I could have seen that," She murmured absently. But then, even if she'd been around, she wouldn't have remembered it, either; she would also have been a baby. "What about now, though? Are you going to introduce yourself to him again? I'm sure he'd want to get to know you."

Adrien slept on once he'd settled, breathing slowly. He wouldn't sleep nearly as well without Marinette there, but they didn't know that yet.

"... I've thought about it," Nooroo said hesitantly, "But I worry that Gabriel will be angry."

It was possible, but honestly, Nooroo had every right to see him.

Marinette's brows knit together and she pressed her lips into a thin line.

On the one hand, yes, Gabriel was Adrien's father. Even if he had a funny way of showing it, he did have his son's best interests at heart. On the other, Adrien should be allowed to decide whether or not accepting the existence of the kwami and the Miraculous was something he wanted to do, even if his memories were jumbled.

What had happened wasn't Nooroo's fault.

(It wasn't Plagg's, either; somehow, they had to figure out a way to make it possible for both of them to see Adrien.)

"He shouldn't be," She muttered, although she knew that Gabriel didn't always do as he should. "You care about him. You're not going to hurt him."

Seeing Nooroo would raise questions, trip memories. A former classmate and a complicated friend made total sense, but a creature like Nooroo was harder to come by. They would have to explain what he was, if he didn't reawaken parts of Adrien's mind simply by showing himself.

It would put them one step closer to Adrien remembering Plagg, and then, remembering himself as Chat Noir.

That was what Gabriel would take issue with. Even if Adrien was technically an adult, he was still Gabriel's son, and he'd spent his entire life being controlling and overprotective. Him getting older didn't fix things. If anything, him being hurt made it worse.

"I did hurt him," Nooroo said quietly. He hadn't been in control of that, of course, but... this had all been accomplished through his powers.

"No," She corrected, shaking her head firmly. "Hawkmoth hurt him."

...she couldn't help the involuntary little shudder that came with the villain's name; even now, just thinking about the man was liable to give her nightmares. It was probably a good thing that she didn't sleep until she really had to; exhaustion was good for avoiding dreams.

"He might have used your powers to do it, but it was never you consciously choosing to hurt either of us, or to go after any of the people he used," She explained, and then reached over to cup Nooroo's cheek with one finger. "You wouldn't do any of that now that you're back in control of yourself, right? That was all him, not you."

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