A/N: I am so terribly sorry for the horrendously long delay. Real life is busy and I don't have a lot of free time for writing. I shall try to keep future waits as short as possible!

Chapter 8: Doubt Whisperer

"I'm booooreed!" Plagg whined piteously, sprawling dramatically across Adrien's desk. He stretched out a paw to cover part of the sketchpad the boy was drawing in. "You've been scribbling all weekend. You should go out. And get me cheese. I need Camembert."

Adrien pulled the drawing tablet away from the kwami, giving him a half-amused look. "I haven't been drawing all weekend," he said. "Besides, why would I go to the trouble of buying you Camembert when you just sneak over to Ladybug's to eat it?" The boy pouted a bit, recalling how Plagg stubbornly refused to even hint at his partner's identity.

"If you'd buy it for me, I wouldn't have to go over there," Plagg said. "I only go over there because you expect me to eat pastries all the time. Blegh."

"We have cheese. You're just picky," Adrien argued. Scooting his chair back, the blond stood, picking up his drawing pad and carrying it with him to the trap door leading out of his room. "Let's see what we have. If there's really nothing you like, I guess I'll go out and buy you something."

The kwami perked up at this, zipping across the room to float in front of the boy. "Really? Promise? Let's go! Beautiful cheesiness, here we come!"

Adrien chuckled at his antics. "You really are obsessed with cheese," he said. Plagg just harrumphed at him, settling on the boy's shoulder to ride down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Pausing a moment to frown thoughtfully at the sketch he'd been working on, Adrien laid the tablet down on the counter before turning to browse the refrigerator contents. The drawing was missing something, he just couldn't for the life of him figure out what. Maybe taking a break wouldn't be such a bad idea. Then, he could go back to it with fresh eyes.

"Oh? What's this?"

Plagg dove underneath Adrien's over-shirt as the boy straightened abruptly, whirling about in surprise. "Mum!" he exclaimed. What was she doing up here? He knew it was Sunday, so the bakery closed early, but surely it wasn't that late in the day, already? A quick glance at the wall clock confirmed that it was well into the afternoon, so it really was that late.

Aurélie Agreste shot a grin at her son. "Did I surprise you?" she asked. "That's what you get for trying to sneak food." She turned her gaze back to what had first caught her attention and Adrien felt a thrill of a alarm to realize she was looking at his sketches.

"Ah, those are just.. that is," he stammered.

"Did you draw these, Adrien? I didn't know you had an interest in fashion. You should show your father," the woman said, turning through a couple pages.

"No! I mean, yes, I drew them, but I was just bored," Adrien responded, reaching for the sketchpad even as his mother stepped away with it.

"Show me what?" his father's voice questioned as the man walked in.

"Nothing!" the boy yelped, a flush rising to his face. It was one thing to draw that stuff, but for others to actually see it?

"Gabriel, look at these," Aurélie said, moving closer to her husband so he could see the drawings. Adrien gave a soft groan as his father took the drawing tablet to study his sketches with a critical eye.

"You drew these, Adrien?" the man questioned without looking up.

"Uh... yes?"

"Reminds you a bit of someone else, doesn't it?" his mother asked with a grin.

"Indeed, it does," Gabriel agreed thoughtfully. "These are very good, son. You have a good eye, if a bit untrained. Is clothing design just a hobby, or were you wanting to do more with it?" The man glanced up to raise a questioning brow at the boy.

Adrien must have missed something, because now, he was just confused. "I... I don't know?" he replied. "I mean, it's just... something I thought might look cool, I guess."

Aurélie gave a soft laugh. "You look so confused, Adrien. Your father studied fashion design, you know," she said.

"He did?" Adrien asked in surprise, turning to look at his father.

"Once upon a time. I found a new aspiration," his dad replied, sharing a small smile with his wife.

"Honestly, Adrien, you know your father does most of the cake decorating," his mom teased. "You didn't think that creativity was developed only for baked goods, did you?"

"Not at first," Gabriel murmured in amusement. He handed the sketchpad back to the boy. "What you've designed so far shows promise, Adrien. If it is something that interests you, you should pursue it. Perhaps in few more years, Madame Cheng will have some competition."

"Really?" Adrien couldn't help but glow at the praise. "Thanks, dad!"

Aurélie wrapped her arms around the boy from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. "You're so silly, Adrikins," she said fondly. "You needn't hide anything from us. We will always support you, no matter what you choose to do." She ruffled his hair as she pulled away.

"I know, mom. Thank you." Adrien reached up to try to put his hair back in place. What was it with moms and messing up your hair?

"So, what were you looking for in the refrigerator, anyway?" his mother asked with a knowing smirk. "Were you raiding the cheese, again?"

Adrien felt his face turn red. And now his parents thought he was the one obsessed with cheese. Plagg really needed to broaden his tastes – and quick.

0o0

Marinette hummed quietly as she returned home from her piano lesson. She had finally mastered the song that had been challenging her abilities for the last few weeks. Her piano teacher had praised her for her success, urging her to keep up the good work as she practiced the new pieced he'd assigned.

It had felt nice, being complimented for something she'd done.

"Marinette." The girl felt her spirits drop as she looked up to find her mother waiting for her on the landing. "My study. Now."

Closing the door, the teen trailed after the woman, mindful to not trip on the stairs on her way up. That would have only made her mother even more exasperated with her, and she wasn't even sure why she was annoyed in the first place. So much for her pleasant mood.

"Sit," Sabine commanded curtly.

Marinette promptly obeyed, sitting in the chair in front of her mother's large desk and resisting the urge to hunch in on herself. It wouldn't do to have bad posture, now. That would just be another thing to be criticized. She wondered what she had done, now.

The girl watched as her mother took her own seat, then proceeded to open the folder sitting atop her desk. Picking up the first page, she peered unhappily at it before tossing it towards her child. The next several pages followed and as Marinette leaned closer to look at them, she realized they were the pictures from her last photo-shoot.

"Well?" her mother questioned archly. "What have you to say for yourself?"

Clearly, something was wrong with the pictures, but Marinette was at a loss as to what that might be. The pictures looked perfectly fine to her. She gave a confused frown. "Maman?"

Sabine let out a put-upon sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "The photographer said you were being difficult," the woman prompted.

"I wasn't!" Marinette protested bewilderedly.

"He said you were distracted, that you kept checking your phone, and that you insisted upon leaving early," her mother countered.

"The shoot went overtime! I was checking the time. I had my Chinese lesson after – I didn't want to be late!" the girl protested, upset.

"Tone," Sabine said impassively. "And very well. I suppose I cannot fault you for trying to be responsible. I'll have Nathalie reschedule the shoot for a time when you don't have something afterwards."

Marinette couldn't help but gape at the woman for a moment. She had just explained what had actually happened, yet it didn't feel like her mother was any less disappointed in her. No matter how hard she tried, it was never good enough.

"You are dismissed, Marinette," the woman prompted, having already turned her attention to another task. "Oh, and Marinette? No phone, next time."

"Yes, Maman," Marinette replied, enough bitterness bleeding into her tone to earn her a sharp glance. She rose quickly and left the office, fleeing to her room as tears stung her eyes.

0o0

"Ah, yes," Papillon murmured aloud to the vacant chamber. Pure white butterflies fluttered about him as he stalked toward the window opening onto the sky of Paris.

The man shook his head, expressing a false sympathy that remained unwitnessed. "The high expectations of a parent, demanding more than you have to give, setting you up as a constant disappointment," he practically crooned, "destined to never being good enough.

"Why, such impossible standards would get under anyone's skin, would they not? Eating away at your confidence, filling you with hopeless doubt... and bitter resentment," the supervillain purred.

"Fly, my vicious akuma," Papillon commanded, setting the insect loose, "find this degraded youth and darken her heart!"

Ignorant of the coming danger, the girl sobbed, tucked into the most private corner she'd been able to find. Her trembling hands were tangled in the long length of satin she still held, tightly enough for its edges to start leaving red marks on her skin. Why was she never good enough? She tried so hard, so very hard, yet only her mistakes received notice.

It wasn't fair! And just when she had started feeling more confident, too.

She didn't notice the dark insect which fluttered in through a window. Even if her face hadn't been pressed into the back of her knees, it would have escaped her attention due to the tears blurring her vision. In fact, the akuma never received any regard, flying freely across the room to alight upon the length of bamboo pressed loosely to one of her palms.

"Doubt Whisperer," a voice spoke inside her mind, "I am Papillon. I offer you the power to make others suffer as you have done, to let you peer into their mind and make their doubts consume them. For this, I ask but one small price: bring me the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir!"

The girl raised her head, blue eyes shining vividly from within the malevolent purple outline of a butterfly. "Yes, Papillon!" she agreed, rising to her feet. Within seconds, the akuma consumed her.

0o0

"Oh, dear," Aurélie sighed as she settled onto the sofa beside her husband. Even Gabriel had lowered his book give the news report on the television his attention. "Not another one." Adrien paused in going up to his room, frowning at the screen.

"... as a new supervillain terrorizes the city," Nadja Chamak was reporting. Footage of the newest akuma victim appeared on the screen.

It was a girl, probably around Adrien's age or a bit older, although her hair was as white as snow. Her skin, where it was visible – and a lot of it seemed to be – was a dull gray, nearly blending into the leotard she wore. Its pattern was a collection of geometric shapes of black and white and gray, forming an optical illusion that was somehow both restive and disorienting. She stood balanced atop a wooden hoop within which several small balls jostled like angry insects. A pair of clubs hovered readily over one of her shoulders and she wielded some sort of wand connected to a long length of writhing black ribbon.

As he watched, the images cut to a reporter near the scene. He stood with a rather distraught looking police officer. "Sir, what can you tell us about this latest supervillain?" he asked.

The officer mournfully shook his head, tears suddenly brimming up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. "I don't do enough," the man murmured thickly. "I do my best, but I – it isn't enough! For every criminal I help put away, another just comes along to fill their place. How can I protect my community this way? How do I look after my family? Why can't I do more?!"

"Um," the street reporter responded uncertainly, hastily turning to the camera, "back to you, Nadja."

Adrien didn't wait to see more, turning instead to bound up the stairs two at time, missing the glances his departure drew from his parents. Climbing up through the trapdoor into his room, he quickly shut it again.

"We've got to get out there," the teen declared.

"I knew you were going to say that," Plagg sighed. "And here I thought we'd at least get the weekend off."

"You don't even do anything most of the time," Adrien pointed out with a shake of his head.

The kwami gave a huff. "I see no reason why I should work if I don't have to."

"Time to earn your keep, then," the boy told him. "Plagg, transform me!" A moment later, Chat Noir exited out through the skylight and vaulted through Paris towards where the akuma had last been shown.

As he drew closer, the superhero's pace slowed, becoming instinctively cautious. It was unnervingly quiet. There was usually a lot more noise and chaos – the akuma had certainly appeared to have weapons at her disposal. So, where were the sounds of car alarms and breaking glass? Where were the shouts of people calling out in fear and alarm?

Chat paused atop a lamppost, listening warily, the hair at the back of his neck on end. There seemed to be nothing, at first, but then he heard something. Dropping down to the sidewalk, he cautiously moved closer. It sounded like... crying?

Seeing no immediate danger as the civilian came into sight, Chat Noir hurried over to them. "Hey," he said, "are you alright?"

"Of course, I'm not!" the woman burst out, smacking away the hand that reached to comfort her. Her sobbing seemed to get worse. "How can I be? No... No one actually cares about me. People are only nice to me because they know I'm a pushover. I'm just a doormat. With my friends, my family, my kids..."

Only just resisting the urge to pat the woman's shoulder, the teen hero moved further along the street. There were other people around, after all. Unlike the sobbing woman, most seemed to have drawn into themselves, looking small and insecure. One youth was muttering to himself, speaking of how he was going to fail his classes and never get a job and derail his entire life.

"Crap," Chat Noir said to himself, looking about at all the people practically immobilized by their uncertainties. "What is this akuma doing to these people?"

"I'm showing them what's really in their hearts," a quiet voice responded.

He whirled around to see the akuma, the hoop she'd been balanced upon rotating forward to deposit her on the street. She held a blackened handle down by her side, the ribbon it was attached to slithering through the air around her like some flying snake. The supervillain canted her head to one side and smiled at him. Chat Noir found himself unable to look away.

"I've showed them the truths they so desperately try to ignore," she continued lightly, tone disconcertingly earnest, "that no matter how hard they try or what they do, they will never feel good enough. And they're probably right."

Somehow between the distracting design of her leotard and her soft-spoken words, Chat found himself relaxing without realizing it. It wasn't that he felt any less threatened so much as a sense of inevitability had seemed to creep over him. When she moved abruptly for the first time, flinging an arm out to send balls and clubs hurtling towards him, he was nearly caught off-guard. As it was, he barely lifted his baton in time to ward off the attack.

"Nice try, ponytail," Chat Noir called, putting distance between himself and the akuma. "What do I call you, anyway?"

"I am Doubt Whisperer," she stated calmly, stepping towards him. "Now, stop resisting, kitty cat. It's time to see what you're hiding behind those clever quips and that shiny black armor." Doubt Whisperer whipped the handle of her ribbon around her head, sending its tip and the wooden hoop flying towards him.

Chat Noir batted the hoop away with his baton and narrowly dodged the ribbon. He avoided a second assault by the balls and clubs only by ducking behind a car. There was the car alarm that had been missing earlier.

The boy took to a nearby roof, turning back to see Doubt Whisperer balanced upon her hoop once more, pursuing him with unnerving speed. Heeding the better part of value, Chat Noir continued to flee. This villain had far too many weapons to risk taking her on alone. He would definitely need a hand.

"Where on earth is Ladybug?" he wondered worriedly.

To be continued...