Another quickie chapter. Thanks so much for all of the reviews, lovelies.

Somewhere in the heart of Paris, a blossom wilts in the sun.

There are days when it will taste air and sun and rain and seem to liven, only to return to its previously melancholy state, as if burdened by the weight of the world. Its petals scatter when least expected; tears in the wind.

Marinette wanders the border between joy and misery like a ghost of her former self.

The genuine zeal and heroism of Ladybug is reduced to a composed act. As of late the dissolution of her transformation ends in a sigh of relief. Uncertainty begins to gnaw at her like a predator keen on its prey, through the layer after layer of flesh, bone, and sinew.

When will it finally swallow her heart whole, she wonders?

It is approximately three weeks, four days, and ten hours later when the persistent beast finally reaches the core of her pulse. Rattles it like a helpless toy before sinking fangs full of poisonous trepidation into every heaving artery.

Wondering if her luck has finally begun to run out, Marinette crosses paths with he whom she least wishes to see, infamous green eyes trained on her the second she steps out of work.

"Marinette!" Adrien waves at her quickly before his expression settles into something sheepish. Abashed. Smoothing the hem of her soft mauve dress- lovingly crafted from leftover fabric-she approaches the young man on flighty, sandal-strapped feet.

"Hello," he begins almost softly. "Listen, I just... Want to talk to you."

Her jaw hardens as Mari replies carefully. "What about?"

"The photo shoot. I'm not sure what happened, but-"

"I don't want to talk about that." The secret heroine is already descending several steps, cheeks aflame. Why now? Why couldn't he demand this of her years ago, when she still had everything to give?

"Marinette. Please." Something about the way Adrien stresses his need makes her stop (though there's a definite grind of her jaw as she does so) and turn to look at him. She doesn't owe him an explanation. She doesn't owe this man anything.

But she owes herself this much... Doesn't she?

"I shouldn't have done that. Or let you do that." She approaches the taller male until she's close enough to measure the height difference accurately. Marinette's voice simmers into a low whisper. "I had feelings for you years ago. It was just a stupid crush, so I got caught up in the moment."

"So you don't feel that way anymore... Not at all?"

"Huh?"

Those eyes- that particular hue of Agreste green- bore right into midday blue. Suddenly everything seems so familiar that the chill of it burns like an electric crackle along her spine. Why does Adrien remind her of him so very much?

"No." Her answer is gravelly with resolution. "There's someone else I love."

"I know."

"Excuse me?"

"What if... What if the person you love wasn't who you thought he was?"

Her brows furrow. "What are you talking about?"

At this Adrien sighs, staring longingly before shaking his head. "There's something really important I want to tell you. But I can't right now. I just hope the explanation is something you can forgive me for."

As Marinette watches the breadth of his shoulders as he turns to walk away, a hard sound registers. A heaviness of something hitting the concrete steps. It's a small black object that rolls towards her, cold and unyeilding in the warmth of her palm as she picks it up.

A cat?

"You... You dropped this!" She calls out, eyeing the beckoning creature as Adrien makes his way back for it.

"Oh! Thank you. I would have missed this if I lost it."

"Do you mind if I ask where you got it? It's just..."

The rest of the thought dissipates on Marinette's tongue as the blonde's hand cups her own, lingering. "Someone very inportant gave it to me. Thank you."

Is he blushing? Is she? How long has her hand been held to the smooth skin of his own?

"You're welcome." The young intern nods, pulling her hand away swiftly. It feels scalded.

"We'll talk soon? I promise I won't waste your time or do anything you don't want me to."

"I... If it's that important."

"It is."

His eyes hold a glimmer of promise that Marinette is willing to believe. She nods so that they may part ways. But a new question burrows into her mind to nest: Where had Adrien gotten that cat charm?

"It's no big deal Tikki. Adrien is rich. He represents a fashion label. He's probably been to China a hundred times."

The small red kwami sighs, knowing full well that Marinette is musing aloud. She could have gone for a stroll and the heroine would have ranted on, none the wiser to her absense.

"I mean," Mari continues, "it did look alot like the one I gave Chat Noir. Onyx is kind of pricey, but well, he is loaded... Maybe it came in a gift bag from a show or something?" The young woman flops onto her bed with a growl of frustration. All of the sudden her word is a tangled mess. Or a bigger mess than it'd been since becoming Ladybug, anyway. If she could just find the one string to tug on that would undo it all. Or get her away from Adrien's sudden interest, at least.

It has been a while since she's seen her debonair kitty, Marinette realizes against a sudden swell of longing. It's hard to believe that there had ever been a time in which she couldn't stand him. A sigh leaves her just as her fingers dig into a pillow clutched between her hands.

Who was her masked lover once the sun rose?

Who had really been beside her all of these years as their need for one another was slowly woven together?

"I don't know... But I love him anyway." Marinette declares up to the cream colored void of the ceiling above.

"What is your heart telling you, Marinette?" Tikki hums from a desk across the room in between bites of a chocolate chip cookie. The young woman can't help but laugh as she peeks up at the kwami's crumb covered mouth.

"That it's time, Tikki. I need him to know the truth."

"And if he doesn't feel the same?"

She'd shatter silently.

It would end her.

Marinette smiles.

"Then I'll just have to move on, won't I."

There is a definitive, consuming silence as Marinette sits before her vanity before the soft rustling of boar-bristles on thick, dark hair soothes against it. It's an unnecesary but calming process; she watches the reflection of an uncertain young woman beginning to ease at the shoulders with each stroke.

A small smile tugs at her lips as the heroine is reminded of days long gone: her mother standing behind her, a lingering scent of sugar and warm bread embracing them both. In that little atmosphere for two they'd bred laughter and music, every other word a gentle pull on Marinette's sleek locks. By the time her pigtails were lovingly fastened with ribbon the little girl would be a fourth of the way into a land of dreams, eyes heavily lidded and ready for bed.

It seems so long ago.

She'd let time rush by. Marinette is a woman full-grown yet her problems remain the same. Her career. Identity. The years-old gap in her heart that she hasn't quite figured out how to repair.

"Are you ready?" Tikki hums gently, asking only because the answer is already so clear.

Marinette nods, a finger reaching up to stroke the ancient bauble at her ear.

"Tikki, spots on!"