ADRIEN STARTED STUDYING ON THE balcony.

School stopped for no man, not even Hawk Moth. This morning he set his science textbooks and digital devices on the small bistro table outside, the grand piano just visible inside the window. A light breeze stirred fallen leaves and at his books, but the weight of the hundreds of pages won out. Behind an even layer of clouds, the sun painted the world white.

Adrien could claim this arrangement was better than his stuffy bedroom for mood or for focus—natural lighting, fresh air, feng shui, whatever—but it was because of Ladybug, as always. She had a grip on his mind like no other.

If she happened to swing by again, she would see a perfectly functional, perfectly organised young man keeping up with his studies. Not the drunken, pathetic mess she'd found on Sunday. Adrien cringed and laid a palm on his forehead, the cold shock of seeing her ghosting down his spine. The embarrassment of how low he'd fallen. His inability to pick himself back up.

It was the most humiliating moment of his life—and he'd been through lots of humiliation in the last two weeks.

After a few hours of lecture revision and assignment work, Adrien walked past the scene of the crime on his way to the kitchenette—the couch where he'd woken to that magnificent, heartbreaking woman backlit by sunlight from the window, disorientedly thinking she had to have been a dream—for a study break. Coffee.

While the machine frothed out a cappuccino, Adrien drew his iPhone from his pocket. He punched in the private number for his Cat Phone and then the encrypted PIN, the bypass for checking his superhero voicemails with his civilian cell service provider. Not that he needed to check. There was only one message, and he'd replayed this voicemail so many times that he could probably recite it from memory.

"Hey, kitty. I have something important to discuss with you, and it's probably easier to talk in person. I'll be at our usual spot," Ladybug said, stating a date and time. "See you there. Bug out."

He'd immortalised the lull between there and bug as if his Lady might have wanted to say something else but decided at the last minute to hold her tongue. He'd branded into his head the way kitty rolled so naturally off her tongue, the results of years of partnership and camaraderie.

Plagg was getting annoyed at him, frankly, because he listened so much and never did anything about it.

"You ever think of, you know, replying?" he asked, eyes fixed to the TV screen.

The wiry strands of the kwami's whiskers shook wildly as he jumped across the buttons of the PlayStation console. (Adrien had initially told Mayor Bourgeois that he didn't need any of his personal items delivered, until Plagg indignantly corrected him.)

"I've thought of it," Adrien answered, the emphasis putting a frown on Plagg's face.

"Even just a text, Adrien?"

Adrien placed the iPhone and cappuccino on the coffee table as he sat down and watched Plagg's current round of Ultimate Mecha Strike III. "I don't have the energy to be her sidekick right now, and Chat Noir has nothing to say to her."

Plagg paused his video game. "What do you mean? You're her partner, not her sidekick."

"Really, Plagg? She's the Guardian." Distributing Miraculouses, collecting identities like passport stamps—entrusting him with little of them—and sending civilians into the front lines of law enforcement. "Ladybug has a whole team of assorted superheroes now, and she hasn't needed or wanted my help for the last two weeks."

Ever since she thrust that iPhone into his hands again, pieces of the outside world had lodged in the chinks of his armour. News reports and Ladyblog updates that he couldn't escape—couldn't resist checking just to see her face, even if it wrecked him. Rena Rouge and Carapace were poring through the police's akumatisation databases to consolidate evidence, together, of course.

Viperion and his retrograde powers were being used to expedite interrogating his father, with Purple Tigress as a bodyguard and Pigella as subtly-wielded emotional blackmail. Pegasus had already written an image recognition algorithm for searching through the city's CCTV records and spitting out sightings of Hawk Moth or Mayura. Ryuko had been based at the Agreste mansion for the last few days, searching through the building as swiftly as the wind. Polymouse could visit and collect testimonies from hundreds of witnesses in a single hour.

So Adrien understood why Ladybug didn't need Chat Noir. But it would have still been nice to be asked first. Now she was probably divvying out the pity jobs, and here he was, last on her list.

"Well, maybe she has a job for you now."

"That's just it," Adrien exclaimed, his coffee untouched. "I'm just a job to her, not a person that she cares about or even likes that much."

How had Carapace put it? Oh, yes. Ladybug thought Chat Noir was an obnoxious jerk.

And he didn't blame her. Even without his friend's reality check, Adrien had to admit to himself that he'd known, deep inside. There was a chasm between them, and it had been his own doing. Making advances that Ladybug never asked for, throwing himself between her and danger, pushing too hard to know her underneath the mask.

She was obviously tired of Chat Noir, demoting him from long-time partner to just another one of her doting freelancers. An afterthought. And it was his fault.

But as Adrien. . .

Ladybug didn't hate Adrien Agreste, even despite what his father had done, even despite the steaming pile of malfunction he'd been on Sunday. Ladybug was kind and patient and understanding. She had delivered reassurance that he hadn't even known he needed, and he was reconnecting with his friends because of it.

Since that afternoon encounter, he was slowly sinking back into the group chat and exchanging study notes with his classmates and taking video calls with Nino, Alya and Marinette. Adrien Agreste still had a chance.

Chat Noir never had.

"You're still a team," Plagg protested. "The original team. Of course you want to see Ladybug."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't. I'm giving up, Plagg."

Plagg was not budging on this, whiskers taut and tail whipping. "Why?"

Adrien picked up the coffee and drank in dainty sips, giving himself an excuse to reply slower.

"Because it hurts too much."

Plagg's ears flattened and he floated closer to Adrien.

Before the world knew who Hawk Moth was, all Adrien wanted was to share his identity and have it reciprocated. Now he would die before he let that happen. If he met Ladybug, he would have to be flawless lest she connected the dots and recognised him. He couldn't allow that. She'd take his Miraculous back, whether out of pity or fear.

Or she would never say kitty as easily, without thinking, like she did now.

Or she would only see damaged goods.

Adrien sighed, meeting Plagg's concerned eyes with his own flat stare.

"It hurts to see her using other Miraculous wielders to avoid me. It hurts knowing I'll have to fake all of our interactions so that she doesn't figure out that her partner is the son of her nemesis. It hurts because I'll never be the partner she wants."

Ladybug was Creation to his Destruction. Brain to his brawn. Head to his heart. Yin to his yang. He loved her so fucking much and he had been the one to ruin his own chances. No take-backsies. Why would he want another reminder of it?

"As long as I am who I am and I feel what I feel, that hurt is never going to change."

His kwami frowned, and said nothing.

Adrien made a huffing sound low in his throat. Plagg said nothing because he knew Adrien was right.

Ladybug wanted unfeeling perfection from her partner and he was a bleeding disaster. He loved too much and he hurt too deeply and he pushed boundaries and he destroyed things.

"I'm never going to be the Chat Noir she wants," Adrien whispered, the corners of his eyes stinging. Fuck. Stop it. He scrubbed at his face with his palm and tried not to glance at the mini-fridge, where sweet salvation lay.

This coffee was really too hot for his tongue—he wanted something ice-cold—but he kept drinking anyway.

"But Ladybug is still expecting to see Chat Noir," Plagg argued. "Are you just going to stand her up?"

Adrien pushed his chair out and strode across the carpet to the mini-fridge. "I guess so."

A shame that he wouldn't be able to study more today, but a necessary sacrifice. Plagg hissed with displeasure. "Wait, wait, wait," his kwami said, darting forward to clutch onto Adrien's ring and drag him back.

"Let's not be hasty. I have a plan."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Ladybug sensed something was off.

Around her Paris slept, a dark curtain of midnight draped over the city—stars hidden by the light pollution. She was due to meet Chat Noir in two minutes, and for some reason, she felt herself preparing to be stood up. It wasn't that she didn't trust her kitty nor that there was a precedent of being stood up.

He just hadn't replied to her voicemail. Usually he would call back, or send a horrible pun, or even a smooth pick-up line knowing it would get shot down. This time, there was no indication he had even received her message.

But then midnight struck, and she saw a dark silhouette leaping through the air, tail whipping behind on invisible wind currents. He landed on the rooftop at their special spot, and relief coursed over her skin like cool water on a summer's day.

"Hey, kitty," she began, standing to meet Chat Noir.

But the man who stepped out from the shadows and into the moonlight was completely unfamiliar. The cool relief swiftly turned to ice in her veins.

She halted in her tracks, immediately spinning her yo-yo in a defensive stance. "Who are you?"

He was tall, about as tall as her kitty—if not taller. His sage green hair was brushed into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, the colour somehow coordinating perfectly with the black and grey in his costume. The clothing hugged a lean body and fair skin, with pops of gold hitting Ladybug's eyes in the form of buttons and trim and paw-shaped accents on his chest.

"Good evening, Ladybug," the man said, bowing low at the waist. "I'm Cat Walker."

"What?"

"Cat Walker," the man repeated, tipping his head again. When he looked up, his face was calm and friendly. He took a step backward, one hand rising politely. "I understand that this is a shock. Let me explain."

"You'd better," Ladybug muttered, glancing around the surrounding buildings to check for an ambush. She had the Butterfly Miraculous back, but there was no telling if Nathalie still had the Peacock Miraculous, or if it had fallen into even darker hands.

Where was Chat Noir? Was he okay?

"Chat Noir is briefly out of town," Cat Walker said. "I am his replacement in case danger befalls Paris and the powers of Destruction are needed."

Ladybug didn't believe that. Surely her kitty would warn her if anything like that happened.

"What? Where has he gone?" she said, tone flinty and shamelessly suspicious. "How do you two know each other?"

She caught her yo-yo in her palm. If anything had happened to Chat Noir, she wouldn't even need it to take this imposter down. She would get the truth out of him with her bare hands if she had to.

"I am unable to answer that, seeing as it would compromise both our secret identities. I assume that was a test to determine whether the old Black Cat—"

The old Black Cat? Ladybug bristled, mouth ready to shoot off, but she caught herself. A deep inhale helped to clear half of her shock and her outrage, but the other half settled weirdly in her gut, bubbling away like a vat of melted sugar.

"—and Plagg trained me correctly, which I assure you, they did." Cat Walker dipped his head again, a stray lock of hair hanging low over his eyes. "I will do nothing to compromise Chat Noir's privacy."

Goddamnit. This guy was. . . good. Which fucking sucked.

"Chat Noir asked me to deliver this," he continued, posture confident but not imposing.

He truly didn't look malicious, but Ladybug still had her guard up. Where the hell was Chat Noir? Why had he not warned her himself? From behind his back, Cat Walker pulled a rectangular parcel, wrapped in thick linen.

"He would like you to know that he has been looking for the Peacock Miraculous in his spare time. During one search of the Agreste mansion, he recovered this ancient tome and would like to rightfully return it to the Guardian of the Miraculous."

Was this a trap?

"You can verify the contents of the parcel, if you like," Cat Walker offered.

Ladybug took the package. The weight and dimensions were familiar. She unwrapped the linen. The grimoire did look exactly like the one that she had returned to Gabriel Agreste. She had a digital copy of the spell book, but her tablet was nothing compared to the real thing.

Before Master Fu had his memories wiped, he had taught her invaluable lessons. Fu taught her that there was no such thing as a rule book when it came to the Miraculous. Fu taught her that everything was fleeting and fragile, even memory—so she documented every single day in her diary.

Most importantly, it was better to write history than to inherit it.

With the grimoire back in her possession, Ladybug felt like a part of her chaotic world's shifting tectonic plates had clicked together. Solid, stable.

The strangest feeling washed over her. She wanted to cry, weirdly. It felt like something beloved and lost returning home. The relief was sweet and sharp. Cat Walker didn't move, waiting with hands folded behind his back and a patient little smile on his handsome face.

"Is everything okay, Ladybug? I am at your service."

"No— um, yes," she said tersely. "Everything is okay."

As much as she was startled by the strange appearance of Cat Walker, no-one else knew about their special spot. No civilians would know as much about Plagg and the Miraculous and the grimoire. Maybe he had truly been sent by Chat Noir?

Why, then, did she still feel so irritated toward this ponytailed mirage in front of her?

How could she take Cat Walker's words as truth?

What if Chat Noir was forever gone—leaving her behind, without an explanation or a way to contact him?

Her throat started closing up, the ache bittersweet. God. This was how Chat Noir felt when she sent Scarabella in her place.

Ladybug understood it now. Having no reason to panic because there was no sign of trouble—no SOS messages, no cry for help from Plagg, no monsters terrorising the city, no sign of kwami magic running wild—and yet panicking still. Panicking because if her partner wasn't at her side, then her entire body felt cold. Exposed.

Not. Right.

Ladybug tucked the grimoire against her chest and sighed, leaning her chin down on the fluffy edges of the pages.

She didn't know. She hadn't known what a shitty move Scarabella had been. She had to make it up to Chat Noir. Her kitty had earned some patience and understanding from her. Trust him, and hope for his safe return when he was ready. That was all she could do.

"Thank you for getting this to me," she forced herself to say. "But I'm not in the market for a new partner."

"I understand, Ladybug," Cat Walker replied, his tone still not shifting from that placid, friendly lilt. "What would you like to tell Chat Noir?"

"What?"

"Chat Noir informed me that you had a message to deliver to him tonight. What was it?"

"Oh. Nothing urgent."

Lies. It was urgent. She was distributing and recollecting the Miraculous on the daily now, so sleep was unheard of. She needed to determine the innocence of a struggling Adrien Agreste before Hawk Moth's first court hearing arrived, find the Peacock Miraculous with the wealth of resources now available to them—Pegasus' curated CCTV records, the police force, access to Gabriel and Nathalie—and keep her civilian life from falling apart.

In the absence of Adrien, the deprived press had targeted his friends. Alya's Ladyblog had become the site of countless comment wars. Faceless internet cowards calling Adrien a villain or painting him as just a sentimonster, helpless to do his father's bidding. She was constantly moderating the threads now. Nino's DJing Instagram account was flooded with message requests from the paparazzi and reporters asking for an interview, and he responded by going private and muting anyone he didn't follow.

Reporters would come for a pastry at the bakery and leave their phone on the counter, obviously recording, while they probed for information about her relationship with Adrien. Tom and Sabine had relieved her from all public-facing shifts, which was a blessing—to regain some privacy—and a curse—because she kept burning and breaking things in the back of house.

Most of Miss Bustier's class reported a similar trend, frustratedly, except for Lila—who loved giving interviews about how Hawk Moth had dashed their chances for a budding romance, a romance that she hoped to rekindle once Adrien returned to school. Ladybug didn't even have the energy to get mad about Lila's lies anymore.

She was tired.

Shrugging in a very purposeful gesture of noncommitment, Ladybug smiled at Cat Walker. "I can just tell him when he gets back. When do you think that will happen?"

Cat Walker stiffened and raised a finger.

"Right," she huffed. "Secret identities."

Sometimes Ladybug hated how strict she forced herself to be. She would never take any information about Chat Noir and attempt to track down his real persona with it, and she placed the same implicit trust in him. Neither of them would ever try to uncover each other.

But she had to be so painfully careful because they could be uncovered without trying.

The most innocuous of clues could bring everything crashing down—a gift card, a signature. . . any question that accidentally probed too deeply.

"Is there any other way I can aid you?" Cat Walker asked. "You are the Guardian. I will do whatever you ask of me."

She shook her head. And that was all it took.

"Okay." Cat Walker didn't try to make himself useful. He just nodded and placed a foot on the ledge, ready to leap away. "Don't hesitate to call if you need any help, Ladybug."

"Hold up."

He paused in the midst of an excellent twirl of his staff, grace and power and expertise condensed into one clawed hand. The moonlight glinted off the metal, and Cat Walker cocked his head. "Yes, Ladybug?"

"If you are in touch with Chat Noir, tell him," she chuckled, "I hope he's feline happy."

Cat Walker nodded and punched her exact words into his phone. "Message received, Ladybug. Good night." His face was completely flat.

Ladybug scoffed. Seriously? Nice to know Cat Walker had a sense of humour.

Ladybug watched Chat Noir's replacement spring off into the night, his staff propelling him across entire blocks of the street. He was outwardly perfect: respectful, intelligent, accommodating—almost like Chat Noir had told him exactly how to behave.

She could imagine her kitty's quick tongue and flirty gestures as he demonstrated his idea of her perfect partner—which, oddly enough, wasn't Cat Walker—but her imagination crashed into a brick wall when all that existed of Chat Noir's civilian face was a smudge of skin. She didn't even know what he looked like. Or his name.

Who knew how long he'd be away for?

Kitty, she sighed, beholding the moon behind the Eiffel Tower, where are you?

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

A / N :

Ladybug on the roof, all alone without her kitty...

This was one of my favourite chapters to write. Firstly, I love writing angst, secondly, the responsibilities Ladybug (I?) thought of for the other wielders are so fitting, and thirdly, it was rewarding mental exercise to find a way to incorporate the arcs and themes of Kuro Neko into the plot of this fic. 

Adrien ready to give up on his role as Chat Noir, and a reversal of when Scarabella showed up to help Chat Noir. Unfortunately, unlike the end of Kuro Neko, Chat Noir does not come back all shiny...

Until next time!

Aimee x