"Nathalie!"

Her eyes watch the sky. Resembling a rich purple carpet unraveled across the horizon, she can't help but to momentarily admire it. A soft breeze passes, removing her velvety hair from its normally secured bun. She could've reached that boy and 8075. But she chose not to.
The memory of the boy toting 8075 in his arms and striding across that green field replay over and over in her mind. Nathalie stopped as soon as she reached the door and absentmindedly watched the teenagers sprint into the thousands of miles of thick trees. She didn't know where he was taking her, but God-willing, she wouldn't stop them.

The green field reminds her of the radiant green of that boy's eyes and she receives the same sick feeling remembering the chilling stares of both. The green hosted by the field and the eyes of that boy were achingly similar to Adrien's eyes. She ran behind the boy and he turned back to gaze at her and their eyes locked, her own turquoises colliding with his scintillating emerald orbs. So perplexing, so vast; as she met them she couldn't help to immerse herself in a pit of reminiscences, to revisit memories she had folded and pushed to the back of her mind like worn picture frames jammed into storage boxes. She so foolishly paused in her tracks and gaped, and the gap between her and them widened as he sprinted further. The most bewildering fact about the whole situation is that every single guard who entered that boy's path received a bullet in their head, and the boy shot them without hesitation. However she stared at him for a span that seemed to stretch for minutes rather than just five seconds. And he hadn't shot her despite the numerous wide-ranged opportunities presented before him. He merely stared back with a glint in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. Or maybe she was just crazy.

"Nathalie," he curses, catching his breath as he stands beside her. The door is still open from where 8075 and the boy had escaped. "Why didn't you shoot that boy?"

She doesn't look at him.  The question, a simple one, has an answer that will not exit her tongue. She didn't shoot him; she wanted them to escape. She didn't shoot because she isn't ruthless like him. She'll never say these things; certain words bring consequences.

"Mr. Agreste, you know that I could not kill the boy..." she says carefully. "We needed him for testing." Deep down, she promises to herself that she will never kill those children. She will do everything in her power to keep them from harm.

A discontented frown crosses his face. "I knew he'd come!" He growls. "Hell, I knew it! That was the plan!" His hands fly up in torment.

Nathalie watches a shooting star glide across the sky. She wishes for the boy and 8075's safety.

"Nathalie, you hear? Next time, shoot the boy. I don't care," Mr. Agreste says through gritted teeth. His words are laced with anger and vengeance, and this time she turns her head to look at him.

For once, Gabriel Agreste looks older than mid-forties. Age has wearily taken over him—bags droop beneath his eyes and sagging resides in certain places of his once defined face. His blue eyes are steel and cold and guard numerous secrets that she has gradually uncovered. Though Gabriel has disappeared from the public eye, he has not from her—yet for some reason, she feels he slowly is disappearing from her, from the world. From himself and from who he used to be. After he lost Adrien two years ago, he lost himself.

"I can imagine how difficult everything must be for you, sir. But is this what your son would want? Not so, I'm sure," She sighs and stares into his intricately guarded blue eyes.

He knows she's right.

But his wife is gone...his son is gone...and there's no other way to retrieve them.

Gabriel turns his gaze to that exhilarating purple sky. The stars look diamonds. "There's no other way," he states. "There's no other way."

They stand silently observing the night until eventually Nathalie returns inside to take samples from the corroded prison of 8075—it was designed that way, for they knew the boy would come and break 8075 out eventually. Gabriel just watches the sky. Another star falls and he wishes for his son.

***

When Marinette awakens, panic floods through her veins. She receives that feeling one gets when awoken in an unfamiliar place until eventually the memories recollect. She blinks a few times before observing her surroundings. It's the dawn and she's in a car. She's seated with a seatbelt across her chest and a heavy coat draped across her shoulders. The car smells of cologne and cigarette and pine trees all at once. It's small and the interior is black, completely barren besides her and a discarded grocery bag. She takes note that this mysterious boy, wherever he went, took the gun with him. She also takes note that the car is parked in a mostly empty lot of a gas station.

He must be getting supplies, she inferences.

Two years have passed since she has been in a car; however riding in cars was uncommon back in Paris—most people enjoyed walking to places or riding bikes. Occasionally she would ride in a car but personally she preferred walking over rides. Today, she decides, a car is sufficient. But where are they going? Her eyes wander to the gas station. The boy is inside; she watches him place a few items onto the countertop. She wonders if she should trust this boy. Last night was a blur.

It occurs to Marinette that this boy very well could be a murderer luring her to her death. He entered her prison quarters and...is she dreaming or did he actually say 'cataclysm'? The only person who has Cataclysm is Chat Noir...unless another Chat Noir was chosen?  Shaking her head, Marinette decides she must have been dreaming. It seems impossible. He broke her out of prison by firing four shots—possibly more. She had only witnessed four shots.

Chat Noir. Every time he enters her mind she quickly discards the thought. It brings too much pain to think of him...

Her head aches and she remembers her side—her side? Her hand grazes her waist to find skin and then soft cotton. A bandage. Anxiously, she presses her hands all around her hips and waist. A bullet scraped her side...the boy must have wrapped her side. The first thing Marinette feels is a wave of relief. He had tended to her wound; he must want her alive. Her hand grasps the impacted side—she is grateful that he wrapped it. If she was bleeding then the impact could have resulted in death. Then a horrid feeling of mortification strikes Marinette. He wrapped the wound. He cut the gown in order to wrap the wound. Suddenly feeling exposed, Marinette squeals a cry as she hugs the coat around her bare side.

The driver door pops open and the black-haired boy climbs inside with grocery bags in his arms. A tiny smile crosses his lips.

"Hey, you're awake," he says softly, placing the grocery bags in the back of the little car. The boy seems so gentle now, not at all like the boy who had fired four bullets at four men a few hours ago. It was self defense—still, it sends chills down her spine. He slams the door shut and nestles into the seat. Then he pulls something out of one bag.

"It's for you," he offers her a candy bar. "I'm sorry I couldn't get anything else. I figured you'd want some real food later."

She hesitantly stretches her fingers towards the chocolate before yanking her hand back towards her chest. She shakes her head no in fear. This boy cut her gown and embarrassed her! Furrowing her eyebrows, she looks at him and then at the chocolate and then back to him. Her stomach growls. Hastily, she yanks the chocolate from his hands and tears open the wrapper. As she silently devours the chocolate, he cocks a brow. "You probably don't trust me," he sighs. "I know why. You probably haven't seen anyone besides those facility people in two years, huh?"

He pauses, emerald eyes now seemingly vast and mysterious. He allows her a moment to nod.

"Well,"—suddenly his hand reaches up to grab a fistful of dark hair—"maybe this will help you trust me." He yanks his black hair and it falls into his lap. Marinette's eyes widen in horror as the boy's golden blonde hair is revealed to her.

Emerald eyes. Golden blonde hair.

Those green eyes are so familiar, the untamed golden hair sways wildly, and those lips mirror a pair that she once pressed her own lips against.

Like a tsunami, everything crashes all at once.

She thought she had lost him.

Every night in that lonely prison cell, her mind wandered to her partner. In the beginning she prayed for his safety, prayed he was alive—but the pain of his disappearance tainted her soul. She forced herself not to think of him. She forced herself to comfort her thoughts with the idea that he was dead, that he wasn't suffering like she was. The only thoughts that distracted her were ones of her parents. But now her prayers have been answered; he is safe. She thought he was gone. It was her fault that everything has happened. If she hadn't ordered him to destroy that pipe, then she wouldn't have been captured. She wouldn't have lost him. She wouldn't have lost Tikki...Never again has she seen Tikki since the explosion. And though Marinette has formed many theories of the Kwami's whereabouts, the most probable idea is that Tikki is dead. The thought is another one she strives to avoid. It was her fault that everything happened. It was her fault that Tikki was dead, her best friend and mentor, her—

"Ladybug, don't cry! No, please, I'm not going to hurt you!" Chat Noir pleads. "Please, look at me, Ladybug."

Her large bluebells meet him painfully. Tears pooling in her eyes threaten to fall. Chat tucks his blonde hair back and combs it into place. Her eyes widen.

It all makes sense. Chat Noir located her. Chat Noir found her. Chat Noir is going to keep her safe. Chat Noir has perfect golden blonde waves and emerald eyes...

"It's me, Ladybug—Chat Noir. And...and...my name is—"

"Adrien," she whispers breathlessly, completing his sentence.

Everything is happening too quickly. She feels her world spinning.

The boy is Chat Noir. Chat Noir is Adrien.
Adrien. Adrien. Adrien. All these years, her beloved leather-clad parter has been the handsome, kind-hearted Adrien Agreste. Not to mention she had the hugest crush on him. The memories come flooding back like photographs, like puzzle pieces slowly connecting to create a large picture. Chat Noir, the flirty egotistical hero, was the timid and ever-gentlemanlike model civilian Adrien Agreste. They seem so different; but once she parallels their similarities, the same emerald eyes, same sun-kissed hair, same laughter as light as rays from heaven—she realizes how ignorant she was not to see it. She realizes she kissed Adrien. Adrien kissed her. Adrien flirted with her. Adrien loved her, Ladybug...Adrien is the same goofy idiot as Chat, and Chat is the same courteously composed model as Adrien.

She loves him, God, she loves him. With every fragment of her inner-being, with every thumping beat of her heart, she withholds a love for this stupid boy who has sacrificed himself for her time after time after time. She has to protect him. She put him in danger that night. She was risking everything, everything for the sake of Paris, for every civilian sitting behind their televisions, for the police officers whose cars were overturned and burning, for the children who placed their trust in the heroes. Every life would be safe, she swore, except hers and Chat Noir's. If she would've lost him...

"Ladybug," his hands rest on her shoulders. "I know this is a lot—"

She shakes out of his grip. "You shouldn't have saved me," she cries, voice steadily rising. "You shouldn't have done this, Adrien!"

Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir, is perhaps the most selfless person she knows—she realizes that the cocky demeanor he wore was to impress her, but really, he genuinely loved her. He didn't know how else to impress her. She thinks about the times he's thrown himself in front of her to stop an arrow, to save her life—and how dangerously close death has dangled before his eyes. She can't let it happen again. Not like this.

"Adrien," her voice cracks, "if they find you, they'll—"

"No! No, Ladybug, I'm not taking you back! God, I've searched so long to find you and I wish I could've found you sooner! And you're here, and heaven forbid anything happen to you! Please," he begs, opening his arms to her as a flower parts its petals as they are touched by the sun. "Please, let me protect you."

Marinette gazes at him in disbelief. "Th-they tortured me back there, Adrien. Th-they...th-they'd hurt you worse. Your powers...your powers destroy..."

Adrien just frowns. She takes a moment to observe him. He's more pale than she remembers; but his jaws curve sharply into his cheeks, and she's sure that angels envy his beauty. He's more toned, and her eyes trace his defined collar bones to his toned arms. He still has the same beautiful jade eyes, but a certain pain resides within them. Those jade eyes have seen things; those jade eyes have aged. Adrien grew up too fast.

"And...I-I'm Marinette, you know," she says weakly, averting her eyes.

Adrien pulls something out of his back pocket: a box of cigarettes. He plucks one out of the container and flicks open a lighter, igniting it. Once he is content, he props the cigarette between his snow-white teeth and presses a hand to his temple as the smoke hisses through his lips. No wonder he appears so worn; he must've acquired a new habit in her absence.

"I know," he says, removing the cigarette from his lips to respond, fixing them between his fingers. "I've known for a long time."

She turns away from him. She has to escape and return to that facility. Not now, but somehow, eventually, she must.

Hey howdy hey guys !

I hope you all liked this chapter. If you did like this chapter and you want more, it'd help me a lot if you'd press that little star button :) thank you!

This chapter is cruddy...lol. I wish I could write better but y'know. I'm trying. RIP...

- lilacfrost021