LADYBUG TUCKED HER LAPTOP INTO a plain burgundy messenger bag and picked up her yo-yo from the coffee table, absently giving it a whirl.

"What are you doing on the twenty-third of December?" Ladybug asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"Apparently being busted out for a party," Adrien quipped, returning her smile. The Christmas party would be held at the Couffaine twins' houseboat, which meant the night would inevitably end with a concert, planned or not. The family was too musical for their celebrations to go any other way.

It seemed Rena Rouge and Carapace had been successful in gaining Ladybug's help. Adrien wanted to ask Ladybug about her relationship to these two teammates in particular—where did you meet Alya and Nino? How did you choose them to be holders? Have I met you before?—but that was too large a conversational pivot to make just as they were wrapping up.

Too large a pivot to make at any time. Plus, why was he trying to dig into her other relationships in the first place? He'd drawn the line in the sand. Friends, partners, nothing more.

From the messenger bag, Ladybug withdrew a dark tangle of hair and a vacuum-packed black parcel. "Good, you've been briefed. This handsome attire is what you'll be wearing in transit," she gave a mournful chuckle at the wig, "I mean, it's less fashionable than what you're used to, I imagine, but—"

"I already have my disguise." It was sitting in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, opened once and meticulously repacked.

"Oh." Ladybug's eyes slid to his. "Really?"

"One of my classmates delivered it to me."

"Who?"

"Lila Rossi. I think my whole homeroom class is in on the plan to break me out."

"Heh," she chuckled weakly. "That's what I heard. Whe— where did Lila meet you? I thought you weren't supposed to receive visitors here."

"Oh, she didn't do anything illegal. We briefly met in passing at the hospital where my mother is, that's all."

Ladybug's shoulders relaxed, slightly. "Right. Well, I'm glad you have so many supportive friends around you."

Adrien, hesitating, took her hand and Ladybug's mouth snapped shut. "I don't think I've told you that I appreciate what you're doing. I'm not the only one carrying the burdens of this investigation," he added quietly, giving Ladybug's hand a soft squeeze and stepping back. "Thank you."

He was remembering their last patrol on Friday, the warmth and softness of her body, the utter tranquility and acceptance he'd felt in her arms. Ladybug's face had gone slack, a blush creeping out from underneath her mask. "W-wow. That's really nice to hear, Adrien. But, well, it's not just me. My teammates, my partner, Chat Noir, we're all here for you."

"I know. Your work is really saving me."

Come December twenty-third, five minutes before seven o'clock, Adrien was already waiting on the balcony of his hotel suite.

The wig was a synthetic monstrosity of black plastic fibres, though it didn't matter much when he donned the full-length black rain jacket and tightened its hood over his head. He looked like a tacky Halloween costume, but nothing could dull his spirits. It'd been so long since he'd seen his friends in person. He was trembling with excitement.

When Ladybug appeared in the distance, slinging herself from building to building, Adrien thought she would land on the balcony before they set off. But she grew closer and clearer, still speeding like a bullet. Blustering past the railing, she fastened one arm around his ribs, strong as cement, and plucked him right into the air with her.

When Adrien's surprised yell faded, he could make out her laughter over the rush of the wind. "Sorry! I thought you were ready!"

"I was ready! I just wasn't expecting such a rapid turnover," he defended himself.

"Hold tight, okay?" Ladybug said, as if his arms weren't already locked tightly around her shoulders.

The view was so familiar—after all, he'd seen this carpet of blinking lights and faded buildings from the sky hundreds of times—but the cold wasn't. Without his Miraculous quantum suit, he was freezing. The rain jacket helped marginally to keep out the icy breeze, but his face was stung red and his nose drippy by the time Ladybug reached the shadowy port.

The tension in the string of her yo-yo increased, and they lowered to the ground with tremendous care.

"You should stay," Adrien found himself saying, arms still around her. "My friends would love for you to join."

"I can't," she said without blinking. Would it be so unappealing when she already worked with Alya and Nino? Or was that why she wouldn't cross the line? "I have my own celebrations to attend."

"Right. Of course," Adrien blushed. "Sorry, I should have guessed."

"Adrien!" a deep voice blared, like a foghorn across the still water.

Jesus fucking Christ, was this not supposed to be a covert breakout?

Kim leaned far over Liberty's railing and waved enthusiastically. "Get your pale ass on this boat!"

Ladybug burst into laughter, the sound like wind chimes, birdsong, a swelling tide. "Well, you heard the man."

"Yeah, I guess I'll see you after the holidays," Adrien chuckled, reaching to scratch the nape of his neck before he remembered it was obscured under polyester and what felt like a mile of synthetic hair.

"Joyeux Noël, Adrien," Ladybug said.

Adrien touched his fingertips to her forearm, leaning in.

Ladybug's eyes went wide before her awareness caught up to her, and she reciprocated la bise with a split second delay. She kissed one cheek, and then the other, and smiled breathlessly at Adrien when he stepped back.

"Joyeux Noël, Ladybug."

"—do I have to swim over there and get you?" Now a crowd of Adrien's friends had gathered around Kim, all beckoning and whisper-shouting their well wishes to Adrien.

"Adrien! You look good!"

"We missed you!"

Adrien cupped his hands around his mouth. "I'm coming, everyone."

Smiling again, Ladybug secured her yo-yo around the beam of a nearby underpass, and was gone.

Adrien raced onto the boarding ramp and practically dove into the sea of hugs and kisses. Nino and Alya were in the centre of the crowd, wrapping him into their joint embrace. "Welcome back, Adrien!"

Nino wore a rich hunter green sweater, a brown blazer on top, an elegant golden chain around his neck. Alya had a two-piece jumpsuit in dark ochre, accentuating her natural tan and fiery hair.

Next were all the girls, dressed in their party finery. "We've missed you so much!"

"Merry Christmas!"

The boys: "It's so good to see you!"

"Adrikins! Give me a squeeze!"

"Joyeux Noël!"

Kim wore suspenders and a smart-looking bowtie. Cheeks flushed like a tomato, he placed both hands—warm and meaty—on Adrien's cheeks and stared deep into his eyes. "Adrien, man, I want you to know that our love for you runs deep and unstoppable as an underground river."

Adrien laughed, putting his left hand over Kim's. "You've been drinking."

"Extremely."

"Wait," Adrien paused, overjoyed but alert to someone's absence. "Where's Marinette?"

Ivan, using his height, peered over everyone's heads around the deck. "I can't spot her. But she's here, setting out the pastries." Everyone had brought a plate to share tonight; Adrien felt bad he couldn't contribute.

"I think she's still inside," Alya interjected casually, pointing to the hub of the houseboat. "Shall we all go in? It's cold as balls out here."

The students funnelled inside and downstairs, to the living room of the Liberty. Lila wove through the bodies and looped an arm around Adrien's. Not too soon after, Chloé did the same. "Look at the decorations, Adrikins—don't they just transform the space?"

Satin streamers in jewel tones—gold, ruby, sapphire, emerald—wound around the upper walls, pinned in place by bunches of golden balloons. Fairy lights encircled the ceiling, and at Max's press of a remote, and Adrien realised they were fairy lights but strobe lighting (previously set to a warm yellow glow, now blinkering through the shades of neon.) At the far wall, a table offered finger food, snacks and desserts a plenty, while a cooler bin full of cheap bottles of wine and cans of ale sat on the floor adjacent.

Where was Marinette?

"—I chose the theme," Lila said proudly, gift-wrapped in silver sequins.

"Wow," Adrien said. "Everything looks fantastic."

Chloé harrumphed, wearing a golden cocktail dress that hugged her to the knees. "Well, I actually picked out the individual decorations."

"Yeah?" Lila smiled sweetly. "And Sabrina bought them, so—"

The door to the top deck opened and Marinette barrelled in, brushing her fringe back with a bashful smile.

She wore a thick winter coat, under which a pale pink dress peeked out. Some type of metallic thread had been woven so finely through the fabric, which itself was layered in artful slivers and drapes, so that when she moved, the whole rainbow rippled up her body. She held a tray of profiteroles and wore an apologetic smile, eyes teary with wind but glittering bright.

Had she been on the deck this whole time?

"Marinette!" Alya cheered. "With dessert! Woo!" (Alya had been drinking, too, a glass of wine clutched elegantly but extremely loosely between her fingers.)

"Sorry, everyone! I was looking for a bin to put all the packaging in," Marinette explained.

Adrien smoothly slid his arms from the grasps of the ladies beside him. Marinette, stabilising the tray beneath a cake stand and beside the cheese board, yelped when she turned around and saw him so near.

Then she squealed and threw her arms around him, saying, "Oh, my God, I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too," Adrien grinned, locking his hands around her waist.

"Are you taller or have I just been deprived of seeing you in person?" Marinette blurted. "Wait, that was a weird question. Do not answer."

"Alright," Adrien snorted, unable to stop smiling. "Thanks for doing this."

"Whaaat?" Marinette laughed nervously, fidgeting with the dainty silver rings on her finger. "N— no, I didn't do this. It was a total team effort."

He leaned in conspiratorially. "The team is competing with each other about who contributed what, when, where to the party and-or halfway to being hammered. So thank you for wrangling that, at least."

Adrien took a profiterole and popped it into his mouth. The Dupain-Chengs' baking was as sublime as ever.

Nino suddenly draped himself over Adrien's shoulders, smelling of sweet ale and cologne. "Speaking of halfway to being hammered—are you joining me?" Nino wafted a beer bottle underneath Adrien's nose.

"I better not risk it," Adrien declined. His relationship with alcohol was rocky, and he also didn't want to be sneaking back into the hotel wasted. "By all means, drink enough for the both of us."

"Don't encourage him," Marinette warned, too late, because Nino had formed a vortex in the bottle and was sucking the contents out.

"The only two people allowed to stay sober are you and Captain Luka." From a pocket in her coat, Marinette withdrew a handheld radio and spoke into it. "Ready to depart!"

Luka's voice chimed in with a crackle. Marinette held the radio high above her head, just in time: "Alright, everyone, we're setting sail! If you can't handle your alcohol and-or nautical travel, please direct your complaints far off the top deck railing!"

The Liberty's engine roared to life. The room erupted into laughter and cheers as the lights of the riverbank started drifting by. This was truly Marinette's element. She could create moments of pure beauty from the darkest of situations, shining like a star.

"Hold up," Adrien said, his lips curving into the closest he'd ever been to a smirk. "If Luka and I are the only two sober, does that mean—"

Marinette inverted the left panel of her coat, flashing Adrien a glimpse of the bottle of wine nestled in her interior pocket.

She giggled. "Trust me—" The boat lurched, sending her stumbling on her feet. Adrien tried to steady her with a jocular warning look. "Don't look at me like that! That was the boat. I'm not drunk."

"But you will be."

"Damn right I will." She winked, took his hand, and walked straight into the crowd to dance with Alya.

For the first Christmas in years, Adrien felt like everything was right with the world.

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After midnight, it was officially Christmas Eve, and everyone—emerging from the bottom of their bottles, now pleasantly buzzed—swept Adrien onto one of the couches to be presented with his gift.

The entire homeroom class clustered around him, plus Luka. Once Liberty had travelled far enough away from the heart of the city to avoid being spied on, Luka had dropped anchor and joined the festivities. There had indeed been a concert, and Adrien had even consumed a few glasses of wine and two bottles of beer. These drinks were nothing like vodka, or the total time-wipe that he'd seen seeking in its burning aftertaste. Adrien stayed aware and in control; he was simply buoyed by this energy in his limbs and this sense of what can go wrong? He danced, he sang, he played the keyboard.

Now, numerous hands stretched taut a quilted blanket for him. It comprised a couple dozen square tiles, four by six, all decorated in a different manner, stitched together into one larger rectangular garment. He blinked rapidly, emotion welling up in his throat.

Nino had wrapped himself around Adrien before he could even part his lips to thank anyone. "We made you something, bro." Adrien clasped his hand around Nino's wrist, holding his best friend tightly. "Considering that fancy hotel is probably lacking domestic touches—"

Chloé bristled. "Le Grand Paris lacks nothing, excuse you—"

" —it'll remind you of us. It was all Marinette's idea! She stitched everyone's tiles together."

The black-haired girl jumped, hands immediately waving dismissively. "Oh, no, really, the team took a lot of effort—" She paused to hiccup, her cheeks flushed rose. "I mean, it was a team effort. Everyone participated."

Marinette, who always made the most thoughtful gifts, who'd messaged him something short and sweet and uplifting every week for the last four months. Marinette, and Nino, and Alya, and even Chloé, who'd participated in her own way.

His eyes roamed over the blanket, which was exactly the personalised and quirky piece of bedding that would have been ridiculed in his childhood home. Behind the blanket, his classmates all helped to spread it horizontally, so that each tile was proudly displayed.

All their smiling faces, not an inch of resentment or suspicion. In his gut some dark ball of fear untangled itself and vanished, replaced by a soothing warmth. They didn't doubt him, fear him. They'd waited for his return. Celebrated it, even.

"Thank you, everyone. This is perfect." Adrien inched closer to the blanket and reached out. The first tile he touched was crocheted from pink wool.

"Rose made that," Nino announced, crouching down so that their faces were inches from the wool. "Smell it. She scented the whole thing with perfume. It's so good."

"It's rosehip and lavender," Rose Lavillant explained, eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Short of sunshine and rainbows, it'll bring you peace and comfort."

"This one is Ivan and Mylene's joint effort." Nino pointed to a white tile with words stitched into it. "Ivan wrote the poem and Mylene embroidered it." Adrien vowed to read and digest the tribute later.

Nino pointed to the upper left corner. Nathaniel Kurtzberg had painted his fabric square, displaying a familiar scene that Adrien had stored in his photos folder: their class picture taken in the Places Des Vosges. Juleka Couffaine had used iron-on transfer paper to reproduce the logo of Kitty Section. Le Chein Kim had—

"No!" Adrien baulked, eyes widening at the familiar athletic brand stamped across his red square of fabric. "Your favourite shirt?"

He'd cut it up.

"It's lucky, man, I swear," Kim boasted. "You're gonna need it for the trial."

Several feminine voices scolded him. "Kim!"

"What?" The athlete's expression was innocently confused. "I thought we don't treat anyone differently just 'cause their life sucks. Which, I'm sorry, Adrien, yours totally does."

Adrien laughed through his teeth, his throat clenching with relief and gratitude. Seeing his amusement, the girls relaxed and unfixed their glares from Kim.

"I hunted down the most elusive textile maker in Paris. All handwoven silk, look, Adrikins." Chloe pointed to her tile, an unadorned square of pristine white silk that shone with gold thread.

Not to be outdone, Lila pointed to a similar white tile with gold thread and a red lipstick print. "Well, this fabric is organic taffeta—it's been out of production for years. My mother had a bolt leftover from before I was born, when she was stationed in Achu. It's priceless nowadays."

"Wow," Adrien widened his eyes at the taffeta, which was... honestly, indistinguishable from Chloe's fabric. Lila had a sense of grandeur that needed to be stroked, so he humoured her even if he didn't believe a word. "This is so amazing, Lila."

Nino, lacking crafty talent but making up for it with enthusiasm, had hijacked some of Juleka's transfer paper and printed a QR code onto his square of cotton. (Later, when Adrien scanned it, it would take him to a curated playlist called happy tunes for sad boi hours.)

Adrien perused all the tiles, his eyes stinging with tears, until his eyes landed on a sight that made his heartbeat stop dead. Slivers of fabric had been sewn together into an image: a red heart on a black background. In different shades, the mosaic effect was like looking at a heart cut from a ruby, with pink and white and red fabric scraps casting the illusion of the facets of a gemstone.

"Is this yours, Marinette?" Adrien whispered.

"Yeah," Marinette murmured, shifting her weight between her toes. "The stitching needs some work around the smaller fragments, but—"

"What do you mean? I love it!" Adrien grinned, every inch of him flooding with some warm type of gratitude. It felt good to have people care about him—not because they wanted a photograph or autograph from him, but because they wanted him to be happy.

Alya and Alix Kubdel expertly folded the blanket together, arms reaching end over end, and deposited the bundle of pure love in Adrien's arms.

"Thank you so much," he said for the umpteenth time.

Adrien ambled about and spoke with everyone, trying to press their faces and laughs into his memory, to tide him over until the next time they could all meet in person.

The night grew darker and colder. More dancing with Marinette. "One more drink," with Alya, "come on, just one more. I know you can handle liquor better than me." Letting Chloé embarrass him with pictures and stories from their childhood (to everyone else, Chloé looked like she had a crush, but Adrien knew she was just possessive about him).

Rubbing soothing circles on Kim's back when he projectile-vomited off the side of the boat.

Climbing onto Liberty's uppermost patio and talking with Nino about all their plans together after graduation, each wrapping a corner of the latter's new quilt around their shoulders, leaning against the wall of the captain's cabin to shelter from the wind. They talked about university applications and majors and Nino's intention to join a campus radio network and gig as a DJ for income.

Adrien held off making such grand plans—who knew what his life would look like nest year, when so much remained uncertain now?—and Nino, sensing it, didn't press him.

The engine revved. The Liberty started its journey back to the port.

"Thanks for sticking by me, man," Adrien said. As Nino, as Carapace, you have done so much for me. "I can't wait until everything goes back to normal."

Nino manoeuvred his hand out of the blanket to clap it down on Adrien's shoulder. "No sappy. Only happy. I'm going inside to drink more. Are you coming with me?"

Adrien chuckled, nodding. "I'll be in soon. I want to take in the view a bit more."

"Don't freeze out here."

Nino climbed down from the top deck and slipped through the door on the main deck. Adjusting his wig and disguise, Adrien stood at the railing. The golden streetlights, black water, rippling slivers of light, illuminated bridges across the Seine.

With the quilt, his surprisingly insulating rain jacket, Adrien couldn't even feel the cold. The boat rocked lightly on its smooth path back to the boarding point. He almost didn't notice the flash of colour to his side.

At eye height hovered a feather, about as long as his pinky finger and brilliant cobalt blue. An amok. A token from the kwami of Emotion, which could manifest sentient creatures from a person's strongest feelings.

"Plagg," Adrien murmured, shrugging the blanket against the wall and back slowly away. "Plagg. Come out."

Plagg nudged his head out of Adrien's clothing, magically traversing solid fabric, and said a very bad word. "So Duusu has a wielder. We have to tell Tikki."

Duusu had a holder. Why hadn't the holder reported the lost Miraculous to the investigation team? Why had they not reported it to Ladybug herself?

Adrien suspected on this dishonesty alone that the wielder's intentions weren't honourable.

Plagg was zipping towards river bank, nearly out of reach, when Adrien deftly caught his fuzzy tail between his forefinger and thumb. "I will tell Ladybug after the holidays are over."

"But Duusu—"

"She's done so much for me, Plagg." Following countless rules to bring the city justice, breaking countless more to bring Adrien some joy. I have my own celebrations to attend, she'd said. "I want her to be able to enjoy her holidays, too."

Adrien watched the amok drift closer to the wooden planks, and debated finding a bottle or mug to trap it like an insect. But would that amokize the object, did they count as his objects? He really needed to brush up on his Miraculous lore.

"And right now, we don't know anything about the new wielder or what their motives are. It could be someone we know—" Despite his father's and Nathalie's convincing testimonies, Adrien would be foolish to believe they weren't just lying through their teeth when they said they'd lost the Peacock Miraculous. "—or it would be a complete stranger. If we tell Ladybug, it'll be another useless weight on her shoulders," Adrien said, cautiously taking step closer.

There had to be a better strategy this time around. It was his job to find the Peacock Miraculous; that was the role Ladybug assigned Chat Noir when he returned from hiatus.

He raised his foot and, quick as lightning, trapped the feather between his shoe and the deck. Plagg drifted down, tail whipping, nose sniffing cautiously.

Adrien felt a prickle of unease. He waited for a shoe-shaped sentimonster to burst into existence, a telepathic voice to enter his mind. From what he recalled, sentimonsters needed powerful emotion and the consent of the host to manifest. Today, he was cheerful and far from agreeing to be amokised. Calm down. Think logically.

What was going on?

Was someone targeting him, or was this truly a coincidence?

"Nothing's happening," Plagg whispered, flying up to Adrien's breast pocket and nestling back in. His small body was a comforting weight against Adrien's frantic pulse, the cold that he suddenly could feel now.

Adrien stepped off the feather.

The feather had turned white.

Whatever magic it had possessed, the feather was now so limp that the gusts from the boat's movement nearly swept it sideways into the air, before Plagg pounced and took great pleasure in tearing it to shreds.

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a / n :

end of Act 2! 

I know observant and invested readers such as mine will have lots of speculations to make going into Act 3, and I definitely encourage this discourse: but note I won't respond to hypothesising comments/parts of comments from here on out. This is just so that I don't appear to confirm or deny plot events with my potentially uneven responses.

(praise, criticisms and other questions I will respond to, of course)

aimee x