Chapter Text
Chapter 1
There wasn’t much Marinette Dupain Cheng couldn’t do. She was the Ladybug, creation incarnate. She was the guardian, she was responsible for nineteen pocket sized gods. She was in regular communication with the Justice League, commanding the respect of all of them. She defeated Hawkmoth, she defeated her ex-partner Chat Noir, she had never been defeated. Not officially anyway. She was the famous, faceless MDC, head designer for Jagged Stone. She was moving to Gotham, to start a new life, working her dream job under her honorary uncle. She was going to open a shop, a physical place to take on clients, hopefully more of the celebrity caliber. Though admittedly, she already had plenty of those lined up. Everything was coming together. In theory. On paper, Marinette Dupain Cheng was a badass, on paper she had her life together.
In reality, Marinette Dupain Cheng was crushed. A shadow of herself. Completely and utterly broken by Adrien’s betrayal; by her superheroing; by the fact she was alone in it; by the expectations; by all of it.
She spent her nights plagued by nightmares and flashbacks. She spent her days chasing inspiration, chasing an escape, a way to hide from the night, forgetting to eat or drink anything besides coffee. Her friends were just as broken as her, after spending years as child soldiers, Marinette was the only one still in the hero business. She rarely saw them outside of her Instagram feed. Part of her, the part she liked to ignore, missed them. But it was all probably for the best, Marinette was better off alone.
It was better that no one could see her in shambles.
The kwamis were worried, it was them who’d suggested moving with Jagged. They were scared for their guardian, not that they’d tell her to her face, though Marinette could tell anyway. Everyone still in her life was scared for Marinette, not that there were many of them left after the team went their separate ways to grieve privately. Upon reflection, Marinette realized there was nothing left for her in Paris. No friends, finished uni two years early, a job that is worked remotely, a flexible lease. Paris was just a nasty reminder at this point, a trigger for her PTSD. She rarely saw her parents outside of their weekly phone call anyway.
That’s how she found herself giving into Jagged’s demands, or requests, as he called them. That’s how Marinette found herself on a plane, headed to Gotham. She sat in first class, basking in the silence, basking in the feeling of loneliness, however temporary it would be. She knew when she landed, she wouldn’t be able to shake Jagged for a few days. However bored she was on the plane, something about sitting there, the distance between her and Paris growing by the second felt unequivocally right. She didn’t mind the boredom, she didn’t mind the fact she couldn’t go to sleep without worrying the entire plane with her terrors, flashbacks and nightmares. She couldn’t think of anything to complain about, for the first time in a long time, nothing felt out rightly wrong.
Until something did. Six hours in, while the flight was in the home stretch, they were set to land in New Jersey in less than an hour. But something was wrong. Marinette felt it in her bones. She sat up straighter, starting to take stock of everything going on. There were six people around her in first class, one flight attendant on this side of the curtain as well, preparing a mimosa with shaking hands. She pulled out her tablet and started writing out her worst case scenario confirmation form. She hoped she was wrong. Hopefully she was wrong, but she very rarely was, Marinette had a way with this kind of a thing. Subtly, Marinette flagged down the nervous stewardess.
“Excuse me ma’am,” she said quietly in heavily accented English, trying to come off as unassuming as possible. After all, one never knew who was listening. “Is everything okay?” She slowly slid her tablet across her lap with her drawing app open. She had written ‘Is someone here? And where?’ With all sections of the plane listed so the woman could circle where the threat was. Her worst case scenario confirmation form.
The woman looked shocked for a moment before stealing herself. That answered the question. “Yes, everything is perfect, we should be landing shortly.” The untrained civilian wouldn’t have noticed the shake in her stance. A civvy wouldn’t have noticed how pale the woman was, or the way she fidgeted nervously, or the waver in her voice. An onlooker would’ve never noticed the little checkmark the flight attendant put next to “cockpit.”
Marinette nodded, “That’s wonderful to hear. This bathroom is occupied, yes? But there is one upfront as well?”
“Oui, mademoiselle, do you need me to escort you?” The woman had a pleading look in her eyes, the same look she used to get when she interacted with villains as a civvy. The look of doubt and ‘please don’t hurt yourself.’ And while she appreciated it, she was looking to get to Gotham in one piece and was really looking to hit someone in the face.
“Non. I will be fine.” She nodded smally at the woman one last time before getting up and beginning her journey to the front end of the plane. She passed through business class then economy taking stock of the number of passengers and stewardesses. She kept an eye out for anything suspicious, she wanted to find the bad guys, she knew there must be more, but she couldn’t draw attention to herself. None of the passengers seemed to have any idea what was going on, everyone looked completely normal, nothing was out of place.
That was, nothing was out of place until a man from first class appeared at the entrance to economy. He walked, to the untrained eye, quite casually, but Marinette saw the tension in his shoulders, the slightly too fast speed to his gait. She also saw the flight attendants around her notice him too, surely others would as well. They made eye contact and she smiled widely.
“There you are handsome,” she said, casually, sensually, as he got close enough, “I was wondering when you’d meet me. Follow me darling.” She took a light hold of his wrist and dragged him to the bathroom. She pushed him inside, closed the door behind them and turned on the water.
She dropped the façade quickly, opting to show her true, truly annoyed colors instead. “I get it, you woke up, you were disoriented and you knew something was wrong. So you followed the only other person who seemed aware, but don’t blow this. Everyone on board is in danger and you almost showed my hand.” Marinette seethed quietly, making sure the water was louder than her.
“Who are you, and what is going on?” The man shot back without a beat.
Marinette looked him up and down, it looked like he needed every second of sleep he was getting back in first class. He looked more tired than her. She looked for all the telltale signs, sure enough she noticed that the bags under his eyes were darker than her hair, his hands shook with caffeine intake, and she could tell by his stance that he was only standing via sheer will. A fellow insomniac. She smirked at that, maybe they were more alike than she’d anticipated. But the small smile evaporated as quickly as it had appeared as she realized there was almost no way this man was trained in combat, surely no way he had PTSD. There was no way that they were alike.
“I humbly feel like the answers to both of those questions would be better left with me.” She answered haughtily, “I also think that you should stumble your way back to first class looking satisfied. That would be the best thing you could do to help me, monsieur.” She made sure the innuendo was dripping from her voice.
The man looked conflicted for a moment before holding out his hand. Marinette shook it warily. “Tim Drake Wayne. Son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Meaning I’ve been kidnapped more times than I can count,” He held up his wrist, showcasing a watch, “Meaning I have a direct line to the bats.” He smirked at her for a moment. “So maybe you should let me tell them what’s going on and let them do their thing.”
Marinette shook her head at him. “Very nice to meet you Monsieur Drake. I will tell you what I know, if only to convince you that calling the bats in would be foolish.”
He opened his mouth to argue but she held up a finger and kept talking. “I flagged down a stewardess. Something felt wrong. I wrote down a bunch of options on my tablet and had her indicate what was going on. There is someone in the cockpit, someone who is not the pilot. There are six people in first class, four with you and me up, thirty four people in business and seventy nine in economy. Seven flight attendants. None of the passengers had any obvious tells, but I’d wager there’s at least one bag guy in each section. I didn’t want to stick around and make a show of identifying them though. I have a bug, I always have one on me. When I leave, I am going to stumble, and slide it under the door, that way I can see what’s going on in that room. I’ve also placed them at each doorway, so I can see what’s happening in each section of the plane. When I stumble, I am going to make sure to look sick enough to warrant me coming back into this room. When I have enough intel, I will go in there, kick some ass and keep it quiet so the other bad guys are none the wiser.”
She paused, looking Monsieur Drake in the eyes very seriously, “Is there room for error? Yes. Plenty. However, I am already on the plane, I am small, I am a woman, I am unassuming. Should Monsieur Batman come in on the Batjet, or whatever the hell he calls it, the baddies will surely notice non? Will surely take hostages, non?” Her eyes narrowed, “My way is better. Non?”
“Who are you?” The man asked her again.
“That is above your paygrade, Monsieur.”
“And if it’s not me that wants to know?” He tapped his wristwatch three times.
“It is above his as well. I will tell him why when we land.” She smiled sweetly, “Now, Monsieur Drake, it is time for you to return to your seat. Non?”
“Do you have parents?” Monsieur Drake asked seriously.
“Excuse moi?” Marinette asked incredulously.
“Never mind.” He waved a hand. “I can help you. I’ve been trained.”
“You can say that, but I have no way of ensuring you are up to standard, you would be a liability.”
Again, the man looked conflicted before taking something out of his ear and handing it to Marinette. She looked down, and nodded before putting the earpiece in.
“Bonjour Monsieur Batman.” Marinette said with a smirk.
“I’ve trained all the Wayne boys, I will vouch for him.” Right to the chase, as expected.
Marinette hummed. “You are familiar with Team Miraculous? Is he up to their standards?”
Batman hummed back. “I haven’t tested their skills in person, but from what I’ve seen, yes.”
“Who on the team is he most like?”
“His fighting style matches the Bee’s. Miss Bourgeois I believe.”
Marinette smirked. “Name dropping will get you everywhere Monsieur Bat. I’ve missed fighting with Chloe. We will get this plane to safety.”
“Who are you?”
“Check the Bug’s list Monsieur Bat. Marinette Dupain Cheng, my name should be at the top.” And with that she took out the earpiece and handed it back to the surprised man across from her. “Let us get to work, Monsieur Drake.”