For Random Reviewer 1

Chat Noir had been waiting for Ladybug to show up for patrol for several hours now, he had spent the first hour imagining her final, inevitable (he hoped) return of his feelings. The next hour was spent in their wedding, life together, and their eventual death of extreme old age. Many tears were freely shed at this part of his fantasy. The following hour was in panic that she would never return his feelings. Determined to never let that happen, he spent the next two hours practicing pick-up lines and puns. After five hours spent waiting on the pinnacle of the Eiffel tower, he was worried that she hadn't shown up.

"Ladybug?" His voice was whisked away by the wind. "LADYBUG?!" The cat's call echoed empty in the Paris night. Hopping down from his perch, he leapt onto a roof and made a loop around the city. He didn't find her. He made a second loop. He began to think Hawkmoth had gotten her. He made a third loop. His sides were aching and he was starting to pant. Ladybug could take down four akumas and his own stupid mind-controlled self with no problem. Hawkmoth couldn't have gotten her. The fourth loop had him exhausted and despairing. Maybe she hadn't shown up just because she couldn't stand him. He ended his fifth loop, legs shaking with strain, shoulders shaking with sobs. He turned his tear streaked face to the full moon. Chat Noir had never felt so alone.

He didn't know how long he sat there, quietly crying. All he knew that he didn't stop until he saw a moving little red dot out of the corner of his eye. He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes with the back of his clawed glove and looked up. The little red dot had settled itself on the corner of the roof and way agitatedly buzzing its wings. It waddled this way and that, six dainty feet supporting a body like a spotted tank.

"Hey there, ladybug." He gave a small smile. "Not exactly the lady I was out looking for tonight, but it's nice to not be alone."

"So, what are you doing out at night, Babybug?" he managed to get a laugh out of himself at the nickname. For a creature with no recognizable facial features, the ladybug managed to look offended. Chat threw his hands in the air. "Well, I can't call you Ladybug! That's too weird!" The insect still looked miffed, but seemed to accept the explanation.

"Why are you out at night? I thought ladybugs were diurnal." The antenna twitched as if in question. "Coming out during the day." Chat explained. The ladybug buzzed bit, then took off, flying in circles around Chat, who twisted and turned trying to keep it in sight. Tripping over a loose shingle in the roof, he fell flat on his back, knocking the wind out of himself. His ragged breath fogged in the colder night air. The ladybug landed lightly on his nose. He crossed his eyes to look at it, then looked at the sky.

"I read once that the moon was the loneliest thing in the world. Sitting smack dab against a thousand stars, with no arms to reach out and hold a single one. Sometimes…" Chat's foggy breath floated up to the stars, past the ladybug sitting on his nose, listening. "that's exactly how I feel."

Neither of them moved, for what could have been a moment or millenia. As another tear crawled down his cheek, the bug crawled down to intercept it. Chat stood up and extended his hand, claws and all. The spotted insect settled down in the palm of it, bright as a red star against the midnight black of the leather. Chat's smile glowed like the moon.

"Thanks, Babybug."

He never closed the jar. He felt so guilty when he went down and got it. It wasn't some cleaned out plastic jelly jar. It was delicately carved, real glass, and had once held expensive caviar. But as soon as he looked at the trusting insect in his palm, he couldn't bring himself to put Babybug in a jar, no matter how pretty it was. A jar was a prison, and if he couldn't be free, it was the least he could do to let a friend of his remain so. Gently shaking Babybug off his palm, he raised the fist with the glass jar.

"Cataclysm!"

There were some things that needed to be destroyed.

As soon as they got to his room, Babybug had immediately bugged out. After first entering, she had frozen in his clawed hand. He had had to push her off onto his desk so he could detransform. Once he did though, Babybug hadn't moved for at least twenty minutes. He had actually poked her gently with a pencil to make sure she hadn't died. Plagg had laughed hysterically the whole time.

When the little insect had finally snapped out of her shock, she had flown frantically around the room in a tizzy. At first it had seemed she was trying to escape, but when she hadn't zoomed out the window Adrien had opened for her, he was stumped as to why she was flying around so crazily. The nearest he could figure it, she was she was checking things out. He could have sworn he had seen her go bug-eyed at all the Ladybug merchandise he had.

Maybe Babybug just liked all the spots?

Every day, he would come home expecting to find her gone. But Babybug was always there. The little insect was certainly attracted to pretty clothes. Once she had followed him to a shoot, and had him mad with worry with her super speedy flying from one model's clothes to another's. She would often land on his clothes as if to inspect them, or fly into closets. Ladybugs didn't EAT clothes, did they? His father would kill him if they did. No, that was moths, right?

Babybug would also sit near him when he would talk. He would talk about his job as a model, his father, his memories of his mother, and Babybug would twitch her antennae and buzz her wings at all the right times, as if she understood.

Once he had found her desperately trying to turn a page of one of his father's sketchbooks. He had helped her, and the spotted bug had immediately pored over every detail of the sketches. Since then, he had taken to leaving open sketchbooks in his room.

Babybug was a godsend for what would have been the worst week in his life. Ladybug still hadn't reappeared, and to make matters worse, Marinette, sweet, clumsy Marinette, who never failed to wave or say good morning, even if she did say "Morning Good!" most of the time, was missing and presumed dead. Adrien had been working as Chat Noir with the police and the Dupain-Chengs , spending nights patrolling for clues and days poring over leads. But there was no sign of either girl.

Adrien was working with some fresh fingerprints the police department had given Chat Noir to look at. He had also used an inkpad and his superhero status to get the fingerprints of everyone who could possibly have been with Marinette the day she had vanished.

"So these are Ayla's," he spread out the sheet with dozens of still inky fingerprints on his desk. ",and these are Nino's and… Babybug! Don't step on the inkpad! You're going to get your little feet all dirty! What are you…doing?"

Babybug was flying to the inkpad, landing on the paper, walking a little bit, then flying back to the inkpad, to the paper, crawl a little farther, back to the ink….

And on the paper, scrawled between the ink fingerprints, was a message written by the insect who had brought him so much comfort when he thought his partner had abandoned him. It was crooked and tiny, but perfectly legible.

I AM LADYBUG