CROSSOVER AUs| Marinette is eight-years-old when her racist grandfather tells that Tom isn’t her dad. Marinette had already been one-years-old by the time Sabine met him.
She doesn’t believe it at first but then she looks in the mirror and sees her blue, blue eyes. No one her family has eyes like hers. Then she really looks at the picture of her and her dad together realizes they don’t look alike at all. It’s not even because Marinette is biracial. There is little to no resemblance.
Her parents find her crying on her bedroom floor, clutching her phone to her chest. They are quick to try to comfort her, try to find out what’s wrong, and when they finally come her down enough for her to speak, Marinette looks at the time with big sad eyes and just asks, “Are you, my dad?”
Sabine and Tom are stunned at first, then her question hits them, and realization slowly inches onto their faces. And its all the answer Marinette needs.
Tom loves the little girl he raised so much and as much as he wished he wasn’t her biological father, “In every way that counts I am,” He assures his little girl, “Except blood. But I am your dad. You are my daughter.”
Sabine apologizes for withholding the truth for so long, “We were a family. I was scared,” She admits.
Cue huge family hug.
A few days go by before Marinette has the courage to ask about her biological father, “Who was he?” She suddenly asked. “My father?” The question caused Sabine to stumble and cause an entire cake to hit Tom in the face.
“His name is Brian,” Sabine said as she handed Marinette an old picture of a young sabine with a handsome blonde man with startling blue eyes, Marinette’s eyes, at a food truck near palm trees. “Brian O’Conner. I met him on a beach in LA. I thought he had a serial killer name. He was wild and beautiful, and so free. You’re a lot like him. You have his eyes and his smile. And his heart.”
Marinette stared at the man in the picture, wondering if he too was clumsy if he was the reason she loved to go fast too because she liked to go really, really fast on her bike if he was where she got her daringness, her need to the right thing. “Does he know about me?”
“No,” Her mom answered, “I had already left for Paris by the time I found out. I didn’t want to upheave his life.” Truthfully, she didn’t know how to tell her daughter that her biological father had been a street racer, on the run from the police and spent quite a bit of time in hiding.
It took an hour after Sabine left Marinette along with the picture for the young girl to get angry. Who was this man? What was so important about his life that her mother wouldn’t dare wreck. Marinette was going to find out.
It took some time but with a little research and luck, Marinette was able to find Brian was still in L.A.
Marinette bought a plane ticket using her mom’s credit card, packed a bag, left a note for parents, and left in the middle of the night on a flight to Los Angeles. It had been tricky. Some people asked questions but Marinette just she was visiting her dad in the U.S. She was glad her mom made her learn English as a second language, though now it was obvious as to why.
It took a few hours and had taken a lot different buses, but Marinette found herself standing in front of a white house that was erupting with noise.
“A party?” Marinette asked quietly.
The bluenette swallowed hard and fought the urge to run away. She had come too far. Ignored too many of her parents’ phone calls to back down. She just texted then every day that she was okay and that she would be home soon.
