Revelations

&&. PROLOGUE

Gone.

Just one simple word, and it all had happened so fast that she didn't know what to do.

It... it felt like she was going to be sick, what with the feeling that shot through her gut at the singular moment. Her heart had skipped a beat, and not in the good way, faltering for a moment before threatening to thud its way right out of her chest.

She was Ladybug. She was supposed to be confident, unwavering, intelligent and brave. Yet right now all she really wanted to do was curl up in the corner and cry.

Maybe, without that signature red suit and yo-yo, she really wasn't strong at all.

Sure, it had always been upsetting when people disappeared, but... the few times they'd been in this situation before due to attacks, there had been no consequence besides the slight initial panic. Nobody really truly bothered to consider the fact that people died-or were sent into another plane of existence, at the very least- quite often- they'd always be brought back, right?

Ladybug had never thought much of it when she tossed her Lucky Charm back into the air with a shout, watching as whatever damage done was erased.

--It was always erased.

Everything returned to a perfect little peaceful world, despite the lingering sense of fragility.

But now?

This time it couldn't be chalked up to just a regular, run of the mill akuma encounter- despite the destruction the butterfly demons created, they were honestly rather harmless as long as they could be captured.

This time it was something real, something dangerous that couldn't just be solved with a few magic words.

But as Marinette sat with her back against the cold, hard wall, knees brought up to her chest, she couldn't help but wish that it could be.

Even Alya's familiar, comforting presence was of little to no help to her right now, despite the hand resting on Marinette's shoulder in consolation.

She barely knew him, she realized, eyes squeezed tightly shut. She'd always thought that she was an expert on all things Adrien- but none of that was anything she'd found out herself. She called herself in love with this boy, but... she'd hardly even gotten to talk to him. It disgusted her now, how she realized she was no better than any of those other manic fangirls, plastering their walls with photos and generally obsessing over the blond.

Would she even have loved him if she had gotten to know him past the sweet, but honestly a bit quiet disposition? Thinking further, could she even call it love rather than a glorified schoolgirl crush over him- admittedly adorable as he was.

Covering her face with her hands, fat, wet droplets began to track their way down her cheeks, cutting a faint line through the small bit of grime that had accumulated due to the day's events.

Alya didn't dare speaking for once, instead slipping an arm around the other girl and pulling her close so that their heads rested gently against one another's.

Ladybugs were supposed to be lucky, right?

But with Adrien gone, it seemed as though Marinette Dupain-Cheng's luck had run out.

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"Open the doors!" Chat cried out, trying to claw his way past the large group of officers blocking the way. "Please! Sh--she's still out there, you have to let me out there!"

A strong note of desperation echoed through his words, the slightest crack tearing through the usually smooth banter.

"I'll- I'll fight my way out if I have to!" The boy's eyes were wild, bits of his ruffled hair sticking up in all directions. He was so very tempted to use his Cataclysm on those reinforced doors right this second, break his way right out of the building, but...

He'd be endangering innocents.

Bugaboo- Ladybug- wouldn't want that.

Even if Chat Noir wanted it more than anything.

What would he do without her? He was... useless. Merely another force of destruction. Sure, he could break akumatized objects, freeing their victims.

But only temporarily until it just made everything worse.

He couldn't purify things.

He didn't have luck on his side.

He was impulsive, more than a bit reckless, and never took anything seriously enough until it was way too late.

Chat Noir was nothing without his Lady.

All he had was a stick and an extraordinary talent for screwing everything up.

Raking a black-clawed hand through his already mussed hair, he sank to his knees against the floor, desperately trying not to cry.

He had to pretend to be strong now.

For her.