It was just a flash of red in the distance. One fleeting sparkle that could easily have been anything else, but it was enough to send Marinette flying across Madrid's Plaza Mayor at a dead sprint.

It didn't matter that she had been in the middle of telling her newly-wed husband an important anecdote about her family. It didn't matter that she was in a foreign country of which she didn't know the language. It didn't even matter that she was on her honeymoon.

She had to make sure that she wasn't going crazy.

"Marinette!" The sound of her husband's startled cry almost gave her pause, but she plowed on through the crowd without a second thought. She had faith that he'd catch up to her eventually. She would explain afterwards.

He, of everyone she knew, would understand once she did.

There was no shortage of people in her way, but Marinette pulled from under practiced dexterity in an attempt to weave through the crowd. But, because she was simply Marinette, she couldn't do so without some mishap. She had been doing so well- deftly avoiding an elderly couple, a class of children, and a group of friends who had been taking a group photo, but, as she approached her destination, she found herself accidentally tripping over the guitar case of a street musician.

Marinette braced herself for the inevitable fall, but found herself stopped short as two foreign hands seized her shoulders from behind. She turned around to give her savior, the musician whose case she had tripped over, a quick thank you. But, as her eyes lit upon his face, she caught sight of a pair of eerily familiar earrings on his ears.

Marinette righted herself before taking a step back as she looked at him more closely. The first thing that she noticed was his long and curly brown hair that fell back to hide the earrings that she had spotted. He had to be a few years younger than she, but there couldn't be many years between the two of them. As her eyes took in his comfortable yet somewhat dressy clothes she noticed his discarded guitar, amplifier, a guitar case as well as a small stool that must have been upset when he had rushed to catch her.

"Esta bien?" The man asked as he also took a step back to check to see that she was unhurt.

"Y-yes," she responded in French without realizing it. From the surprised look on his face it appeared as though he had expected her to either respond in-kind or in another language, but he took the change in language in stride.

"That is good!" The man said jovially in accented French as he carefully leaned over to right his stool and pick up his fallen guitar.

"You know French?"

"Some," the man said as he took his seat again and began to tune his guitar absently. "I took lessons when I was younger. I try to stay as fluent as I can. It helps with business."

"Ah." Marinette felt at a loss for words as she tried to think of things to talk to the man without seeming obvious. If he was indeed her successor, then his identity would be important to keep. Biting her lip, she spied her husband, Adrien, making his way towards her with a worried look on his face. She would certainly have a lot of explaining to do once he caught up with her.

"You wouldn't happen to have any news about La Mariquita Musical, would you?" The musician paused in the middle of his task for a moment before forced a mask of disinterest upon his face. To the unpracticed eye it may have appeared as though he had simply paused to listen to his guitar more carefully.

But, unfortunately for the man before her, Marinette was no novice at spotting secrets.

"Have you ever met him?" Marinette asked before he could come up with a reply that would surly have been a lie. She made sure the pour on the avid fan act in an attempt to learn more. If she could just get him talking then perhaps she could pass on the message that she had been holding onto ever since she had said goodbye to her tiny companion.

"…Once," the man said as an amused spark to his eye. "He saved my life when this man attacked the Plaza. Nice guy, really. Though I only spoke to him once, and I don't imagine that I'll ever see him again."

"If you did, do you think you could pass along a message to him?" The man gave her an odd look as he took in the intensity of Marinette's gaze. It seemed as though there were two sides of him warring over her request. She watched as he hesitated. It looked as though he was going to shut her down. "Please?"

In the end his ego won out.

"I can try," he hedged as he looked at her suspiciously. "Though I can't promise anything will come of it."

"That's fine," Marinette took a calming breath before she continued. "Please tell him to take care of Tikki. And-" Marinette swallowed the rising lump in her throat. "Let her know that the Ladybug of Paris is happy now and hopes that she's happy here." She watched as his hand tightened on the neck of his guitar and his eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline.

"Wh-" The man coughed in an attempt to cover the nervous crack of his voice. "Who's Tikki?"

"No one that you need to worry about. I'm sure he'll understand when you tell him." Marinette looked up just as Adrien finally caught up to her. She reached into her purse and pulled out a generous amount of money and a small package of cookies that she had bought earlier that day. She threw all of it into the man's case.

She could see the gears moving in his head as he looked back and forth between herself and her slightly out of breath partner and then finally to the cookies that she had thrown in amongst the money that he had earned that day. "Sorry for taking so much of your time. Have a good day!"

Before either man could get a word out, Marinette grabbed her husband's hand and began walking in the direction that they had come from. She turned to wave at the flabbergasted musician as he looked after her with wide eyes.

She was about to turn back around when she noticed a small red hand wave to her from inside of the body of the guitar slung around his neck. There was a distinct hole in her heart that began to throb at the sight. Her steps faltered as she realized that her intuition had been correct. It took everything in her to not start walking back to the now-confirmed superhero, but she couldn't keep herself from saying one last reminder.

"Don't forget: She might be able to eat any sugar, but she prefers chocolate chip cookies."

There was a moment before understanding dawned fully on his face.

"I won't forget!"

There was so much more that Marinette wished to say, but she knew that she couldn't risk saying any more in such a public place. So, with one final nod, Marinette turned around and began walking forward again.

A/N: Just a short piece that came to me the other day. Probably won't add more to this specific piece, but if you have any thoughts, or would like to know more about our La Mariquita Musical hit me up. I don't have a lot established for him, but it'd be fun to theorize more about him.

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think by reviewing!