The civilians closed in around me--the silken tentacles swooped down like birds of prey. And, for a moment, it was wonderful. It was like dancing with her up on the rooftops. It was like the time when Rogercop took over the city and I had to beat up the entire police-force by myself. There was no time to be afraid, there was no room to despair. I leapt from one assailant to the other, blocking punches, ducking under tentacles, carving a circle of space for myself in the press of bodies.

I could see Marinette's eyes flicking to left and right--she was co-ordinating every fist--but I was meeting everything she threw at me, and even as she frowned in concentration, I could see her smiling, I could hear her breath quickening. She was enjoying herself too.

After a while, it dawned on me that the day was brighter. The fog was thinning overhead, letting the sunlight through. And when the silken tentacles caught me, or ruffled through my hair, they hardly stung at all.

Marinette pulled back, panting, and I felt the civilians around me take a step backwards too.

I staggered, but tried to turn it into a swagger. "Running out of fuel, princess?" I said.

She turned her head, as if seeking inspiration, and it was then that I noticed a trickle of blood snaking down from her hair-line to her jaw.

It whipped my smile away in an instant--it practically slammed into my stomach. It reminded me that she was falling apart, under the tricks and clever costumes, while I was out here enjoying myself.

When Marinette looked back at me, she caught my expression, and put two and two together as only Marinette can. She reached up to touch the line of blood that was now making its way down her neck. She looked at her fingertips. And then a slow, horrible smile spread across her face.

"I know where I can get more fuel," she said.

She held out her hand, and one of the tentacles passed her something. It sparkled dully--there was no sunlight to catch it anymore--but I knew that it was glass, and I knew she was squeezing it tightly. There was another trail of blood snaking down her arm.

I reached up and grabbed her, shouting incoherently. She was trying to press the tip of the shard to her neck--as if she hadn't made her fucking point already--but I wrenched it back. I was struggling so frantically that I knocked her over backwards and landed on top of her, kicking out at the tentacles as they tried to pull me away.

I don't know what I was shouting. Whatever it was, it only broadened her smile. I held her arm at the elbow--I couldn't grab her hand in case it pressed the glass even deeper into her skin--but there was so much blood, and I was so scared. The fog had thickened to choking consistency, one of the tentacles was wrapped around my neck, and I didn't know how much longer I could hold on for. I didn't want to pass out and leave her with that shard of glass still in her hand.

I reached up with my claws and called for the Cataclysm. The glass-shard turned to dust in her hand, showering her face, and for a moment, it killed her struggles. The tentacle released me and I collapsed, coughing, on top of her.

For the longest time, everything was still. It occurred to me, through the haze, that I should be taking advantage of this moment to search for the akuma--or at least get away before I transformed and revealed my secret identity to the whole of Paris. And then it occurred to me that maybe I was lying on her broken leg and making her injuries even worse. I couldn't do anything about it. I was done. If I could have thought of a way to die without killing her, I would have done it.

And then, out of the blackness--right by my ear--a tiny, breathy voice.

I knew it. Ladybug's voice when she was at the end of her strength and just about to collapse. Marinette's voice when she was trying to talk to me in the classroom. It said, "Lucky charm."

I raised my head, just a fraction, to look at her. Her eyes were closed, her forehead creased, as if she was in the middle of some deep, internal struggle--or maybe she was trying to keep Hawkmoth from using her eyes, just for a second.

"Lucky charm," she repeated, in the same strained, tiny voice.

I didn't know what she meant. Was she asking for Tikki? Could I try to reassure her without giving Hawkmoth my entire plan? I wanted to say something, just to let her know that I was still there--that somebody had heard her--but the silken tentacles were working their way around me again, the creases on Marinette's forehead were smoothing out.

The tentacles picked me up, whirled me round, and pitched me into the river.

I wondered if that was her too--if she was trying to fling me as far away as possible before I transformed--if she was still trying to protect our identities.

***

I called for Carapace to take my place and hurried into a side-road, ducking down behind a car a split-second before I transformed. There was nobody on the streets--the fog was too thick for them to have seen me anyway--but these habits of concealment are ingrained in me.

I dug into my pockets and wordlessly handed Plagg a wedge of cheese. Then I sat down on the curb and stared at the scratched paint on the car beside me. I was so tired by then, and I couldn't see an end to it. No, that wasn't true. I could see an end, just not one I liked.

It had been hard for her to give me that hint. Her voice had been barely audible, as if it'd had to make its way through miles of dark tunnels to reach me. And I couldn't even figure out what she meant. What if that had been her last chance, and I'd just squandered it?

"You could feel it, couldn't you?" said Plagg, landing on my shoulder and chewing his camembert right in my ear. "The way the fog thinned out when you were happy?"

"Yep."

I stared at the scratched paintwork, letting my eyes blur in and out of focus. My body was numb with the cold, but my mind kept going over the same ground. It was like crawling through barbed wire, but I couldn't stop.

"So, if you could think of something happy that's not connected to Ladybug or Marinette? Or your mother."

I just looked at him. I didn't even have the energy to wince at the reference to my mother.

Plagg went on, his voice getting higher as his desperation increased. "Nino, maybe?"

"Nino leads to Alya," I said woodenly, "and Alya leads to Marinette."

"Jagged Stone?"

"She was with me when I saw my first concert. She designed his latest album cover."

"Chloe, then?"

"Are you serious?"

He rubbed a paw across his forehead, trying to contain his impatience. I should have felt honoured, because he didn't often try to contain his impatience with me.

"Just--anything happy," he muttered. "Something to stick around for. A book you're looking forward to reading--a vacation--your favourite movie--"

"Solitude," I said. "Starring Emilie Agreste."

Plagg gave up, and settled heavily on my shoulder. "Oh, you're the worst."

"I'm not arguing with you."

"You're determined not to fight this!"

"There is no fighting this."

"That's not what you told her," Plagg protested. He got up suddenly, and pressed a paw against my cheek. "Is that it? Are you relying on her to fight it for you?"

I hesitated, wondering why it stung me to hear him say that. I hadn't thought anything had the power to sting me anymore.

"She can fight anything," I said, trying to pass off my cowardice as loyalty.

"They're not her feelings to fight!"

"There's no other way, Plagg."

"Uh-huh," said Plagg gloomily. "And what did you think was going on when you heard her say that?"

I winced. I couldn't help it. He had just pushed me back into that horrible moment in the cellar of the abandoned warehouse, when Ladybug had been so injured but so composed, telling me she had thought it all through and there was no other way. It had sounded too cold, too rehearsed. I had known right away that there was something else going on. The asshole she was in love with was ruining my life yet again. I hadn't known it was me.

Despair had already been in control of her then. Maybe it had nothing to do with Hawkmoth, or the akumas.

"I don't think I can run away from it," I said slowly. "Thinking about something happy that isn't connected with her would feel like a lie." I had had it up to here with lies, even the ones to spare my feelings. In fact, I would spent the next couple of weeks trying to excavate them--all the white lies, all the times she had skipped over the truth to spare my feelings. I would become obsessed with them--just like I was shortly to become obsessed with finding Hawkmoth. But that's another story.

"I think I know a way to find some happiness connected with her, though," I went on. "It involves relying on her and fighting the fog myself."

Plagg squinted at me, tentatively hopeful. "Well, that doesn't make a lot of sense. But then, you never do, to me."

***

The catacombs were a sight for sore eyes--and mine were definitely sore. Bedraggled people with blankets wrapped around their shoulders were talking earnestly in little groups. Alya was handing out paper cups of hot chocolate. Juleika's mother had even found a guitar, and was leading a spirited sing-song.

Alya hurried up to me as soon as she saw me, but I held up a hand to forestall her questions.

"Where's Rena Rouge?"

"Uh, transforming, I think," said Alya. "Off in one of the side-tunnels."

"She used her power?"

"That's how she got everyone down here." Alya straightened her glasses, grinning. "It was pretty ingenious, actually. She saw that the people were jumping too fast for you and Carapace to catch them, so she used her illusion power to make it look like the entrance to the catacombs was the edge of the Seine. Everyone jumped down there of their own accord. And then, once they were out of the fog, she could reason with them."

"She's incredible," I said.

Alya giggled, a little nervously, but said nothing.

"Was the hot chocolate your idea?" I asked.

"Well, the guy with the stall got swept down here, and he wanted to help. And I thought of the Harry Potter books, you know? Where chocolate is the only thing that helps against the Dementors?" She stopped, as if taking in my appearance for the first time. "Do you want one?" she said, holding out her cup to me.

I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn't have time, and then closed it again.

"Does it work?"

"Sure. You superheroes eat regular food, right? Take it."

I took it. I had to admit, I needed all the help I could get.

"Cat Noir?" said Alya. She was twisting her fingers, now that they'd been relieved of their paper cup. "I think I know where the akuma is. She's my friend--Marinette, I mean--I don't know if you remember? Anyway, she's got this good luck charm that her friend Adrien gave her. Takes it everywhere with her. And I'm pretty sure it's in that because, the last time I talked to her, she was kind of upset about him. I can't tell you any more than that--"

But I held up a hand to hush her. I didn't want any more information--I had more than I could handle already. Most of it was painful, but there were three words that lit a fire in my chest.

"Good luck charm?"

"Yeah, it's like--I don't know, a couple of beads on a string? She usually keeps it in her purse."

She had been trying to tell me, then. She'd been trying to tell me where the akuma was.

It was horribly wonderful to hear that she took my lucky charm wherever she went, and wonderfully horrible to have it confirmed that I had upset her the last time we'd talked, but at least now I had something to work with--if not hope, then at least help.

"Thank you," I said, taking a shaky sip of the hot chocolate. It really did work.