#she buys it for tikki and bakes into brownies

[notoriously-blonde]

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The Forgotten Chapter Three: Half-Reveals and Trying Times

Read on Ao3 here

[Summary] When you're a ghost you can go anywhere you want, but you also have to adjust to the new way of life. That can lead to you finding out things you probably shouldn't know. 

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[Tuesday, The Day After The Akuma]

Life was good for Marinette. She had two parents who loved her. No siblings to fight with or get tattled on by. Her grades were good, despite the past few years being Ladybug. She had three good friends, one of which she has a massive crush on. She has insanely old earrings that not only allow her to become a magical hero but gave her an also absolutely insanely old companion/friend, Tikki. With the powers that come with being a magical hero, she can save multiple people every week, sometimes more than once a week. She gets to save the city she loves with a boy who wears a magical suit inspired by a cat, bestowed upon him by a creature like Tikki. This boy gives her the support she needs to be the hero she is, at his own expense.

She was finally able to stand up to her long-time school bully when she became Ladybug. She’s been getting better at that too, ever since she became one part of Paris’ Superhero duo.

So why had it turned around to badly?

She’s been with Master Fu and Tikki since IT happened. No matter how hard she tried to touch or talk to them, they could never hear her. She could never touch them. She’s been forced into a horrible, isolated world, where she can see and hear everything happening around her but never interact with anyone or anything ever again.

That’s why she finds herself floating through the streets. Through people. She needed a fresh breath of air. She needed to see more than tan walls with red floral print. She needed to smell more than tea. Hear more than speculative things about her and the earrings.

She needed to feel alive again.

But floating through people, cars, and buildings doesn’t really help.

Stopping in front of the bakery that is was her house, she takes a few deep breathes. The people walking through her doesn’t help to calm her down.

Feeling steeled enough, she floats forward, reaching for the door knob.

Floating through doors instead of opening them like everyone else will never get easy.

Floating in the middle of the front space where you can look at what baked goods to buy, she looks around, a familiar sense of longing burning inside her.

All the pastries look as good as ever. The cookies, the tarts, the éclairs, the brownies, the cupcakes, the cakes, all of it. Everything looks like it usually did, only, something was... missing. All the baked goods had the signature look of Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng. But, looking closer at the goods, she finds what is missing. Her signature style of baking. Ordinary people wouldn’t notice, but as a baker’s daughter, it was a bit easier. The way frosting was applied. The way something looked just slightly different than the rest. A slightly different tone from baking.

She jerks back from the displays, ones she didn’t even realize she floated closer to, as she realizes something. The akuma (he never said a name or a purpose, only: “The only way for me to be noticed is for you to disappear.” It was strange and doesn’t make sense. She would know, she’s had a week to pour over her memories.) not only made her intangible, or eliminated her need to eat, drink, or sleep, (long story) but basically erased anything that involves her.

Oh, she can’t wait to get back and permanently take down Hawkmoth.

Turning from those thoughts, she focuses back on the present. This is the first time she’s been back home in a week. It was just so scary to think that she could go home, and her parents wouldn’t not only not see or hear her, but completely forget about her. Not rely on her to help in any way because she isn’t there. It was just too much. It might still be too much.

Shaking her head to clear herself of those thoughts again, she turns to the counters.

Of course, there is a line of at least 10 people, she doesn’t really feel like counting the exact number. Maman, bustling between the kitchen (most likely belong out Papa,) and the register, making small talk with the customers. All normal. Papa, even though she can’t really see him, nor really wants to, is baking and frosting the goods, getting them ready to put on display to be chosen and eaten. Considering everything, she probably should t have been surprised by the fact that her parents have hired help, but it surprised her nonetheless when she saw uniformed people walking to and from the tables in the eating area and the kitchen. or to and from the kitchen to the displays. At least that means papa isn’t overwhelmed.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her just a bit.

Taking a few steadying breathes, she decides to try the one thing she knows won’t work. “Maman! Papa! I’m home!”

No one responds. No one shows any confirmation that they heard her.

Not that she expected any.

Sighing, she floats forward to and through the Employees Only door, the employees shouting orders and walking through her.

No, this is definitely not what she thought her life would end up being.

Trying her best not to get too depressed, she floats to the door that leads to up to the apartment.

She stops only when her foot phases through the first step. She stares at the stair, the bottom of her half just above the surface of the stair. With a light huff she floats back and closes her eyes, just now realizing that she has absolutely no idea how to traverse the stairs since she didn’t have to do that before at Fu’s

That’s when the reality of her situation really hits her, her eyes flying open. She can’t walk up stairs anymore.

She must learn to fly.

So, she does the reasonable thing that anyone who must learn to fly says: “Up!” She shouts

Nothing. It must be another phrase.

“Away!” She shouts.

Still no flying. She hasn’t moved in any direction.

How does one who’s learning to fly think about flying. What goes on in their mind that gets them to fly?

Despite she herself being a superhero, she doesn’t actually fly, her yo-yo does that for her, so she turns to the only superhero she can think of that can fly: Majestia.

How would Majestia fly? Does she just will herself to fly? Could she will herself to fly just like she could will off her transformation?

She’s never really thought about how she wills off her transformation, it’s always just sort-of happened.  Could she just picture her suit melting away?

Could she do the same thing with trying to fly?

It can’t hurt to try.

So, a little hesitantly, she closes her eyes, and pictures herself floating upward. She pictures it like she would a budding design.

At first, she feels just a little bit lighter. But she doesn’t open her eyes. Only focusing on getting up the stairs. Picturing herself floating up through the stairs.

Suddenly, her stomach drops, like when she would drop off the edge of a large building, or when a particularly strong akuma throws her, a short shriek escaping her lips, her eyes flinging open.

She didn’t expect to see herself floating in the air, half way through a step.

Looking down, she sees that she managed to get half way up the stair case.

Well, at least she knows how to fly now. She just needs to take it a bit slower.

Without closing her eyes, she wills herself to float up at a more reasonable pace. Within moments, she’s at the top, looking at the door to the apartment:

She allows herself a small half smile. She can fly now! That’s got to count as a victory. She’ll count it as a victory.

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she would see on the other side of the door.

She instinctively reaches for the door knob, but her hand phases through it once again. Right, I’m a ghost. I’m not bound by the same things normal humans are, she reminds herself: she finds she does that a lot lately.

She floats through the door instead of thinking on that more. It’s an odd feeling floating through something. When she thinks about what she’s floating through, she can practically taste it. It leaves a weird aftertaste of door or person for a few minutes afterward. Which is why she prefers to not think while phasing through something.

Once through the door, the weird door aftertaste fresh on her ghostly tongue, she looks around the familiar, small apartment.

The kitchen looks the same as when she left a week ago: pristine and clean. Nothing out of place. She can thank her Maman for that. The living room is the same. Just no game console.

Looks like Papa isn’t as much of a light spirit these days.

Looking to the wall beside the door she came through, she finds tons of pictures of her Maman and Papa with their respective families, and pictures of the families mixed in together. She doesn’t want to dwell on them, because they’re a painful memory of what she lost. Of what her parents lost.

Prying her gaze from the pictures, she floats to the stairs to her room - no, what was her room, trying to not dwell on the pictures. Unfortunately, her mind decides to dwell in the pictures, the traitor. While she refuses to look at them anymore, her mind can’t help but tell her that there aren’t any pictures of her. Which is extremely saddening, but not exactly surprising.

She really doesn’t want to think about it anymore, so she looks to the door to her room in search of a distraction. Luckily, it provides her with one.

The door is locked by a pad lock.

Why would it be locked?

This can’t be right. It looks like it’s an attic door. Like it’s been forgotten. But something’s off about it. Now, she’s forgotten stuff in her closet before. She’s also deliberately forgotten things in her closet. This looks like it’s been deliberately forgotten

Like it’s blocking something... something important.

She must check it out. It’s calling her.

Slowly, as her curiosity gets the better of her, like an uncontrollable force is pulling her by her collar, but also pushing her away, making her wary, she finds herself floating up to the door. To the lock. Floating up to go through the door to find what it’s blocking. One of her hands reaching out to the lock.

Just as her fingers are about to touch the lock, a sudden blur of black catches her eye.

Whipping her head around to pinpoint the black thing, she catches just a brief glimpse of the end of a black belt.

A smile slowly creeps onto her face. There is only one thing that is that shade of black, moves that fast, and has a black belt that flaps behind them. And that, that is her partner. Chat Noir.

A partner whom she hasn’t seen in about a week. Well, not really. She’s seen him come by to drop off akuma for Master Fu to purify. But he’s always only just dropped the akuma in the jar just outside the door to the parlor.

She wants to see how her partner is doing without her.

So, she floats out the window, her mind too preoccupied by trying to find her partner to register the taste of glass and dust.

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[Present Day]

She’s snapped out of her thoughts as a sudden clap of thunder sounds throughout the room.  Fu moves to leave the parlor, Tikki asking why he’s leaving so suddenly. Master Fu reassures her by saying he’s just going to go check on something.

He didn’t say that to reassure me, though. He doesn’t know I even exist. She thinks just a bit bitterly. But her bitterness melts into sadness as she looks at Tikki. Her little features contorted in worry.

Tikki doesn’t deserve any of this. But she can’t figure out a way to reverse any of this.

Reluctantly she fades back into her thoughts, as another clap of thunder sounds. This one slightly farther away, so it ends up more soothing than frightening.

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[Tuesday, A Day After Her Visit To The Bakery]

She has found Chat.

He looks different this time. His suit isn’t like hers anymore. (It was never really like hers, but this time it’s much, much more different.) His suit is no longer as smooth as it was before. It no longer has bulbous guards around his wrists and ankles. His tail isn’t the same either. She can’t even see a bell or the familiar mop of blonde hair. It is also no longer mostly black but marred with silver blotches on his arms and legs. This was probably the most concerning.

She stands corrected.

Getting a closer look, she finds much more discrepancies. Like, for instance, Chat Noir is extremely muscular, more so than he was before, his suit leaving nothing to the imagination, despite being covered in protective padding. It’s not like he wasn’t ripped before she disappeared. She even marveled at the muscles she managed to build after a few months, this - the amount he’s sporting now - is insane. It’s like a professional body builder who had been in the business for years, had been stuffed into the body of a 15-year-old. It's intense just looking at him.

His head is completely covered in black leather, and from what she could see from when he flipped around, the only skin that showed on his entire body while transformed was mouth, cheeks, and chin.

The leather helmet ends just below the base of his skull and ends just above the tip of his nose. Like his original mask was stretched out into a helmet. The helmet is lined by silver metal and spread across the entire thing like spider webs. Making it look sort of like fur. Atop his head sit his cat ears, but they were different too. (Really, the cutest thing about him was changed to look darker?! Why universe, why?!) The ears are black but are lined with the same type of metal as the rest of his head. The helmet seems to have holes for the cat ears to move around freely, out of these holes poked tufts of blonde hair. Okay, so maybe the ears aren’t that dark, maybe seeing tufts of blonde hair poke out of them made them look more adorable. But thats' not the point.

Black, magical leather extends from the helmet to cover his neck completely and the rest of his body. On his shoulders, biceps, and outside of his forearms sit silver pads, spaced far enough to allow comfortable moment, but close enough to provide adequate protection.

His chest has leather padding lined with silver metal covering his left and right pecks, as well as his sides and down the middle, these also have enough space in between to allow for uninterrupted maneuverability. The leather pads have thin sliver lines spreading like webs across them all. His back is covered in a similar fashion.

His hips sport padding like his chest does, leather lined with metal, sort of like American football players have at their hips. His thighs are also covered in kind. His shins and knees sport metal coverings, once again, with enough gaps to make movement comfortable. His boots are tipped with metal at the heels, and sport metal claws at the toes. The sides are lined with metal also.

His fingers and knuckles have metal coverings. The fingers tipped with metallic claws. Seemingly to not be retractable. Around his waist sits his black leather belt tail, only the sides are encased in silver, and the end is pointed. From his belt, around his hip, hangs a jar. She has no idea why he has a jar, since Akuma can phase through anything, but he has it.

His right ring finger, which is where his miraculous sits, has a black leather strip connected just under the knuckle casing and the ring’s band, then seems to connect to his palm. It's hard to see, which would make sense. But she’s been Ladybug for nearly four years now, she’s been trained to look for nearly imperceptible details.

On the inside of his left forearm sits his baton. From what she’s seen before the Akuma a week ago, he could use it expertly as a staff, like a sword, and thrown projectile. He could also split it in two. Now, if possible, he seemed to be able to use it even more expertly. Like he’s the one who created all forms of martial arts.

He is extremely serious, his tone dark and dangerous. It holds a certain power to it. A dangerous, dark, terrifying edge to it. Like he’s seen the worst of humanity and can never unsee it. A power only superhero’s have. A power she’s never heard before. He doesn't speak during attacks unless he had to. No puns. No quips. Nothing, and combined with the glimpses she's gotten, (his eyes didn’t change. Which was good. But also, bad, because she could clearly see something dark behind them. Something that would chill her to the bones if she still had her body, but literally made her feel 10 degrees colder. Which was impressive since she can’t actually feel cold or heat) makes him even more terrifying.

He is also extremely agile, fast, and strong. Being able to dodge pretty much anything. The akuma he’s currently fighting seems to be a heavy weight. A powerhouse. This Akuma (the Blacksmith, was it?) can form and use any weapon that has ever been, and that has been imagined. Literally so many weapons, she can’t count them all.

The akuma throws so fast and at such fast intervals, she's thought multiple times that he had finally hit her partner. But Chat's somehow managed to maneuver around it effortlessly. Like he sees everything in slow motion. Sometimes he even catches and swings the thrown weapon back at the akuma with much, much more force than it had originally been thrown. The weapon always melts before it hit the akuma.

When the weapons collide with the buildings around them, (which Chat has somehow managed to contain it to a small area which somehow seemed to be where other attacks happened) Chat catches the falling rubble with absolutely no effort. Seriously, this kid is jacked!

Maybe, she thinks angrily at herself, he’s always been like this. Maybe he’s always been so good at fighting but was never able to show anyone any of this because he had a partner to look out for. A partner to protect. He always protected me from danger, which made him look weaker. It makes her stomach fill with dread.

During this whole attack, Chat's flipped/slid/caught multiple flying swords, hammers, mauls, mourning stars, flails and various other weapons. He's an unstoppable force that no one want's to fight. Even the akuma seems to be absolutely terrified of him.

Sliding around one last maul, he darts up close, so fast it looks like he's teleported, and grabs the helmet from the Blacksmith’s head while kicking him hard in the gut. While the akuma is sent flying from the force of the kick, Chat lands with the grace of an angel, shouting “Cataclysm!”

Wait... an angel. Where did that come from?

Shaking her head, she returns her attention to her partner.

As the helmet crumbles from the destructive magic, he grabs the akuma that flits out with the hand that has the miraculous. It seems to not be able to escape his grasp.

He then grabs the jar from his hip, uncaps it, and shoves the akuma inside, then quickly recaps it. The jar seems to darken. Maybe it’s enchanted?

Sighing, he turns around, clipping the jar back onto his belt just as Alya runs up to him.

“What does Paris’ Spirit of Vengeance have to say about this akuma attack?” Alya says while shoving her phone into his face. Turning, his gaze seems to soften, but that dangerous glint seems to never leave.

“Stay out of the way. I can’t have anyone get hurt again.”

Then he unclips his baton from his arm, and vaults away.

Alya doesn’t seem to be taken by surprise by his short statement, her eyes softening into a sad look, watching him jump away.

“There you have it! Chat Noir, Paris’s Spirit of Vengeance, saving his beloved city once again. Catch you on the flip side!” Alya then turns off her phone and starts climbing out of the rubble.

But she didn’t notice. Because he said again. He doesn’t want someone to get hurt again. Again. As in it’s happened before.

She floats after Chat.

She doesn’t believe he didn’t try to protect them. But people get stupid when there is a superhero around. Maybe they’re more cautious because he can’t return everything back to the way it was before, but apparently, there will always be stupid people. She thinks deludedly as she silently follows her partner back to Master Fu’s.

During this trek, she can’t help but reminisce about older times. When he was a lighter spirit, not burdened by being alone. She missed his easy, playful tone. His puns, no matter how horrible. His quips. He isn’t the same, and it broke her heart.

She stops in the middle of the street while Chat Noir hurries inside. She wants to go inside, to see him. But it wouldn’t be fair. She just stands there in the middle of the street, focusing on the weird taste of metal and gas as cars pass through her. He comes out a few minutes later and vaults off onto a roof.

She almost follows him, but… she just can’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to him. So, she decides to stay at Master Fu’s again.

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[Thursday]

That was two days ago.

Marinette is once again snapped from her memories, but this time it isn’t to thunder. Doors are slamming, Tikki and Wayzz are buzzing around frantically.

Suddenly, the door to the massage area slams open, starling the kwami and herself, while Master Fu heads straight for a futon to pull it into it’s couch position.

Not far behind the master is…Nino! Why is Nino here, has Master Fu finally decided to get Chat Noir a fighting buddy?

“Chat!” she all but screams as she realizes that Nino is carrying a limp Chat Noir, who isn’t opening his eyes. “What happened?” she says, forgetting no one can hear her. “I leave him alone for two days and he turns out like this?”

“Hurry!” Master Fu tells Nino, startling him out of his daze. “Over here.”

Nino places Chat Noir on the futon and takes a step back. Master Fu turns around and grabs the Fox Miraculous from the ancient container, which he somehow opened during the chaos.

Chat Noir’s ring lets out a few beeps, She should probably look away, but before she can tear her gaze away, a flash of green light temporarily blinds her.

And in Chat Noir’s place, lays the sleeping, battered, bruised form of her long-time crush.

Adrien Agreste.

“No, no, nononononono, no!” She screams. “No! This can’t be! He can’t be Chat!” But her screaming pleas fall on deaf ears. His kwami, (Plagg was it?), is laying on Adrien’s chest, looking utterly exhausted. His black body covered in purple splotches.

Then she goes emotionless. Sure, she hates that Adrien is Chat Noir because that not only means that he is the brave, kind, clever, obnoxious, adorable, funny, leather clad superhero by her side always, and always made sure she could get the job done, while also supporting her in any way possible, but that he is also this dark, depressing, terrifying shell of Chat Noir. No longer a savior of Paris, but now dubbed as Paris’ Spirit of Vengeance.

He just can’t be that. She can’t accept it. But everything is telling her that it is the truth. So, her brain shuts off all emotion. Filing it for later.

She looks over to Nino. He seems to be completely shocked. But also seems to be taking the news better than she is. He also looks like his brain is connecting the dots finally. She gets the feeling like maybe her brain would be doing the same thing, only if it weren’t so accompanied with powerful emotions and memories.

Master Fu clears his throat and Nino startles at the sound. It had become uneasily silent.

“Ahem, I know this must be a lot of information to handle, but we need another Miraculous user. He is clearly not fit to fight for a while, and I am too old to be running around town in a super suit.” Master Fu explains as he unties his bracelet from his wrist. “This is the Miraculous of the Turtle. It has the power of protection. You will use it for good. I will find you when it is time to return it, use it wisely.” He says as he hands it over to Nino.

Nino wouldn’t need the whole speech about the miraculous if he had been Carapace in this universe, but it seems to be that her partner was never allowed a partner. Which is downright stupid.

“Sir, I can’t, this is yours. I’m not fit to be a super hero.” Nino says, uncertainty lacing his every word, as he tries to hand the miraculous back to Master Fu.

“Of Course, you are.” Fu reassures him. “Otherwise I would not be handing this to you. I know you know you are perfectly capable of being a good user, unless your new-found memories serve you wrong?”

“How’d yo- “Nino is cut off by Master Fu holding out his hand.

“Do not question, it will only bring confusion.” Fu says with a wink. “Now go! You have a city to protect!” And pushes Nino out the still open door. “The phrase is Shell on!”

“Shell on?” Nino asks, then a flash of green and a scream from Nino. Then the sound of something falling to the ground with a thud.

Master Fu turns to Tikki, “Take care of Plagg please, he surely must be exhausted, while I go find a holder for the Fox.” Master Fu says, before walking out of the room.

Nodding, Tikki zips into Adrien’s shirt, then darts out with a chunk of what seems to be camembert.

Carefully holding a sleeping Plagg, who is too tired to even eat, Tikki starts to buzz softly. She’s only ever done that when Marinette was in a dark spiral because of Chloé, Lila, or Hawkmoth.  Nino is now running around Paris as the new user of the Turtle miraculous and Master Fu has left to go find a holder for the Fox Miraculous, she hopes it to be Alya.

Hovering over Adrien, Marinette finally lets emotion come back, and tears start to fall unbidden. “I wish I could touch you; I wish I could be there for you.” She says through her tears. “My poor kitty, fighting alone. At least you won’t be alone anymore…. Just stay alive. Bring me back so we can spend the rest of our lives together.”

They believe the Ladybug Miraculous to be lost. It’s not lost, they’re still in my ears. Of course, they don’t know that, but still. How can I fix this? She thinks with renewed determination.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien. Please, just find a way to bring me back.” She says as her silent crying turns to weeping. “I... I…” Her voice breaks with another sob before she can make a confession or say anything else.

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It was weird. All Adrien could see for a while was red and black, with blue. Dark, raven blue, and bright, piercing blue. A voice like the heavens.

The only words he could make out were “kitty”.

Then the dreams shift, and he can only make out crying and “please... bring me back.” The normally angelic voice sounded so broken, he can’t let that be!

So, as the dream seems to end, Adrien stirs. His eyes open only a crack, they feel far too heavy to open any further. He sees a girl. She’s just hunched over him, her hands hovering above his broken feeling body. She seems to be weeping.

Why is she weeping? Why would she be so sad? No random girl would be so sad to find him like this, would she. No, it doesn’t make sense. Not unless...

Yes, the only reason she could possibly be so sad about him is if she were his girlfriend. That’s must be it. Other wise, that would just be creepy.

His eyes are threatening to close again, but he fights against it, his girlfriend is saying something, and he needs to reassure her that he’ll be fine.

The only thing he can make out is: “-n please, just find a way to bring me back.” Then her voice breaks with yet even more sobs.

His eyes are too tired to be open any longer, so he decides to close them. He wants to reach out to her, but his limbs are detached, which is concerning. Last he checked, he had limbs. This won’t due. He can’t leave her like this. He experimentally opens and closes his mouth. It seems to be in working order. He still needs to reassure his girlfriend before he drifts off again.

With determination, he murmurs “I…Promise….Milady…” before dreams carry him away again, feeling that what he said was good enough since his girlfriend seemed to stop sobbing.

All’s well that ends well, right?