Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a good thing that Hawkmoth’s attacks allowed Marinette to become used to supervillains at this point because otherwise, she would be losing her mind.

Oh, right, context.

Marinette’s class were still on their trip to Gotham. They had forgotten her again, but she decided she could spend the time with Damian. He accepted her offer, and together they toured some of the sights in Gotham during the day. They didn’t look as spooky as they usually did at night, and Marinette quickly wrote down and sometimes sketched out many design ideas during their adventure.

An adventure that was now put on hold because of a villain who thought green was a good color on him.

When outsiders heard of the big bad Gotham villains, they typically talked about The Joker or Harley Quinn, maybe Poison Ivy or Bane or even Catwoman. The Riddler was mentioned often, but he was the bottom of the ones on top. The A- of the A’s if you will.

Marinette knew he liked riddles and traps and he wore a lot of green. That was pretty much it.

Damian and Marinette were in line to get ice cream when the widows were suddenly blacked out. Damian grabbed Marinette’s hand. The doors locked, and the few people in the shop were trapped with the Riddler. He pointed a question mark shaped gun at them and demanded that they go to the back room.

Damian held Marinette’s hand, mumbling that it would be all right. Marinette nodded numbly, realizing that she likely couldn’t escape to become Ladybug if needed.

Tikki was unmoving in her purse.

She looked around her. The Riddler had the cashier, a father, and his two daughters, her and Damian.

The two girls were silent and scared, their shoulders hunched, but they continued to walk. Each held one of their father’s hands. The father himself was steely and glaring, but she saw the tremble in his lip. The cashier was wide-eyed and shaking. Marinette saw the beginnings of an anxiety attack in him. The worker that was dishing up the ice cream had followed them out but put on a mask. Must have been a henchman in disguise.

Damian was angry. He looked impassive at a glance, but his emotionless stare showed the fire in his eyes. Marinette hoped his anger didn’t lead to recklessness.

“Now that I’ve got you all here,” the Riddler cackled, “I need two volunteers to do the puzzle I set up until Batman and his batbrats show up! The others will wait here locked in a room as bait.”

Marinette glanced at the group. Two little girls, one around five and one around eight. A cashier struggling to breathe. A father wanting to protect his daughters.

Two pissed off able-bodied teenagers.

“We’ll go,” Marinette sounded more confident than she felt when she lifted her and Damian’s still conjoined hands.

He hissed something at her, it sounded like a question, but the blood roaring in her ears drowned out the words.

The Riddler grinned. “Excellent! A Wayne and a foreigner! Follow me!”

A Wayne? Marinette glanced at Damian but he started walking, dragging her for a few steps before she caught up.

The henchman locked the door behind them, locking the four others in the hallway. Marinette and Damian were now locked in with The Riddler

It was massive.

The room was the size of her school gym with green and purple squares covering the floor. There were black edges where they were standing now, but the majority of the room was square tiles.

They were on the ceiling too, Marinette noticed. The low hanging lights were still high enough to see the ceiling. Marinette could even see the hinges on the squares – What were those for?. Green squares were above purple squares and vice versa.

“What did you do?” Damian whispers. The blood roaring in Marinette’s ears was quiet enough for her to hear.

“We were the best bet,” she whispers back. An angry protective father would be rash. A panicking employee would stumble. Two young girls would be unpredictable.

Damian is angry, but from the, so far, little time they’ve spent together, Marinette knows he’s smart. He calculates his movements, coordinates the best course of action. He’s angry, but he will hopefully think before being reckless.

And she’s Ladybug, though currently without her suit. She’s dealt with similar things before, and she can do it again.

“As you can see,” The Riddler gestured to the brightly colored room, “there’s a gameboard. And you two are game pieces. Make a wrong step and…”

He reached for his cane that was tied at his belt and pressed a button on it. The green square nearest to them made a beeping sound. The purple square above it opened up like a latch and bricks dropped from it.

The sound of the bricks hitting the ground was loud, Marinette and Damian both flinched. She closed her eyes and gripped his hand tighter.

When she opened her eyes again, she surveyed the damage. The bricks went through the green square, opening up a dark hole below the floor. Marinette couldn’t see how far down it was.

The Riddler grinned, “as implied, if you make one wrong step then you die! Simple enough to understand?”

Marinette had to fight not to shake. She felt anger rising from within her – not fear.

She glanced at Damian. He was shifting his feet, his expression neutral. Was he angry too? Or was he scared?

Marinette’s anger grew. Her friend shouldn’t have to be scared.

She turned back to The Riddler. “How do we know if any of the cubes are fake?” she asked. Her voice shook, but she shifted her feet and didn’t meet The Riddler’s eyes so he mistook her fury for fear.

Villains loved to be feared.

Damian’s hand tightening grounded her to reality.

The Riddler smiled.

“I assure you there is a way to win,” he chuckled. “Now, who wants to go first?”

So, yeah. It was a good thing that Hawkmoth’s attacks allowed Marinette to become used to supervillains at this point because otherwise, she would be losing her mind.

She heard Damian move behind her. He was going to offer to go first, she knew it.

“I’ll go.”

Her voice sounded meek. Good.

“Angel,” Damian hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“No takebacks!” the villain laughed. “Go ahead and choose, but make it snappy!”

Marinette squeezed Damian’s hand before letting go.

She glanced at the floor. All the tiles that were the same color seemed to be made of the same paint. They all had the same texture of wood. They were all identical from what she could see. But there had to be a way to tell which ones were dangerous.

She looked at the ceiling. There was one open tile-door but the others were closed and waiting. She couldn’t see latches. The colors were the same paint as the floor, the same size as each other and the floor. The only real difference from the floor was the hinges but-

The hinges!

The hinge on the open door was large. Likely more expensive, made to hold a lot of weight. But there were hinges on other tiles that were smaller. Likely cheaper and not made to hold a bunch of bricks.

It was the best chance she had.

Marinette looked at the closest one with a small hinge. It was one down from the hole in the floor, two steps and she would be on it.

“Go already,” The Riddler snarled. “Unless you want your friend to go-”

Marinette stepped on the purple square.

The Riddler chuckled, and fear finally overpowered the anger. What if she was wrong? What if the hinges were a fake trap and she was about to die? What if-

He clicked the button.

The square under her feet beeped.

Damian inhaled.

The trapdoor opened.

Marinette did not scream.

She did stiffen. Nothing came.

She looked up in time for a soft feather land on her nose.

“Lucky guess!” The Riddler cackled with glee. “Let’s hope you can keep it up! But for now, it’s your friend’s turn.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Why can’t I play alone?” she asked.

She felt Tikki hit her leg and ignored her.

“What, think your friend isn’t as lucky as you?” he asked. “Tick, toc, Wayne. Don’t keep us waiting.”

Damian looked at the squares on the ground, trying to figure out where to step. He didn’t look up. He wasn’t going to get it right.

Marinette glanced up. The green one to his right should be safe. It was the one next to her.

Damian began to step on the purple one next to the green one. It wasn’t safe. The hinge was too large it wasn’t safe Damian was going to die and-

He looked at Marinette, seeing her panic.

He didn’t step on it.

Marinette relaxed, ever so slightly. Damian looked her in the eyes and she glanced at the safe square.

He stepped on the green square next to her.

When The Riddler clicked his button, another feather dropped down on Damian.

“Seems the little foreigner is helping the competition!” The Riddler growled. “You think I wouldn’t see the silent communication there? Now you have to answer a riddle for every turn, girlie! Answer correctly and you’ll survive.”

Marinette saw Damian get angry for a second before his face became neutral again. She felt nervousness rise within her.

The Riddler was known for his riddles. This may be harder than she thought…

“Take your turn,” the villain growled.

Marinette did, stepping on another safe space. When the feather fell, The Riddler growled lowly.

“Now answer this,” his voice was low.

Marinette’s breathing quickened.

Damian’s fist clenched.

She tried not to shake, she was going to get it wrong and die and-

“What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end and the end of every race?”

Marinette blinked, all her nervousness and fear draining out of her.

This was supposed to be a hard riddle? By the villain named after them? Annoyance was the prickling sensation over and over again that made her skin crawl and want to be itched. This villain is trying to kill them through an elaborate game and gave her such an easy riddle?

“The letter E,” she tried not to growl.

The Riddler frowned. “Take another turn.”

“But what about mine-”

“Shut it, Wayne,” The Riddler growled at him. “Take another turn, girlie. Your luck will run out eventually.”

Marinette took another turn. She got another feather.

The Riddler snarled, glaring at the ceiling.

Did he not know? Marinette mentally shook her head. The Riddler knew which squares were good and which ones were bad, he was simply frustrated that Marinette knew too.

“Go again!” he barked, forgoing the riddle.

Marinette went again. She had to step over a square but was safe once more.

“How can you tell?” the villain was snarling. “How do you know which ones you can use and which ones you can’t?”

Marinette shrugged. There was no way she was giving away the clue to him, he would only fix it the next time. “Just lucky I guess.”

“No, you figured something out,” The Riddler hissed. “How? How did you do it?”

She heard movement behind her and panicked for a moment. What was Damian doing? She scoffed so The Riddler wouldn’t hear him too.

“As if I’d tell you,” she held her head up, haughty.

Tikki hit her leg again but it was too late.

She could see the villain’s resolve snap.

When he lunged, Marinette was expecting it. Distantly, she heard someone yell behind her but her focus was on her immediate surroundings and her movements.

Sidestep to avoid the villain. Sweep under feet to make him lose his balance. Elbow to the side to topple him over. Jump to avoid his attempt to bring her down with him. Kick his remote away from him.

Of course, the villain didn’t stay down. Once she kicked his device away he was up again, this time fighting her with more intelligent movements.

No sweat. She won against akuma smarter than her before.

And it became apparent to her within a few seconds that The Riddler was not very good at fighting hand to hand combat.

She jabbed him in the throat before quickly running off the board to look for Damian.

Instead, she ran into another body.

“Woah, calm down,” Marinette didn’t recognize the voice, but she did recognize Red Robin and Robin, who were both standing where she was running toward.

Robin looked a little messy, almost like he changed his costume quickly. He also looked surprised, but Marinette couldn’t fathom why.

She looked behind them, seeing the door she and Damian entered through open, the other people from before missing.

She didn’t see Damian.

“Where’s my friend?” she asked. “Damian, he came here with me and-”

“It’s alright An- civilian,” Robin stepped forward. Red Robin walked to the villain. “I carried him out while The Riddler was focused on you.”

“You knocked him out,” Red Robin commented from behind her.

Marinette glanced back and shrugged. “Punching faces is stupid, you’re more likely to hurt your hand if you don’t do it right. Going for the throat is a dirty move but more effective.”

Robin looked surprised again, and Marinette was confused. Why was it surprising? Most people in Paris took up basic self-defense, so it’s not like she told him she was Ladybug.

“How’d you figure out his riddle board thing?” Red Robin asked.

Marinette turned to face him and pointed upward. “Anyone can figure it out if they look up! It’s obvious.”

Red Robin looked up. Marinette heard Robin move behind her and assumed he was also looking up.

“What?” Robin sounded confused.

“Oh!” Red Robin snapped his fingers. “The hinges?”

Marinette nodded. “He must have cut some corners because there’s no way the small hinges would hold a bunch of bricks.”

She heard Robin make an, “Oh,” sound behind her.

Red Robin looked back at her. “You’re pretty smart.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, it’s something anyone would notice if they looked up! I just managed to use the knowledge.”

Red Robin didn’t look like he believed her, but Marinette didn’t know what she could do to dissuade him. She wasn’t as smart as Max, or anyone else, she just noticed her surroundings. It was a habit she picked up from being Ladybug.

There were footsteps behind her, too heavy to be Robin. Marinette saw Red Robin nod to them and assumed it was another one of Gotham’s heroes.

“How’d you know enough self-defense to take out one of Gotham’s villains?” Robin sounded suspicious.

Marinette relaxed slightly. “Paris has akuma like, every week. Most citizens learn enough self-defense to stay alive during attacks. I did a little more because my classmates are akumatized the most.”

Red Robin stepped forward. “Is there any more information on these akuma you can-”

“Robin,” a voice said from behind Marinette and Robin. She didn’t jump since she knew someone else was there.

She turned to see Batman, THE Batman, talking to Robin. “Please allow the civilian to leave, we need to get The Riddler to Arkham.”

Robin sighed.

“I’ll guide her out,” Red Robin offered, and Batman cut off any protests from Robin.

Marinette walked away with Red Robin, managing to shake off her starstruck-ness about Batman when they neared the exit.

“You really are smart,” Red Robin told her. “Most people don’t take notice of details like that easily. And I heard you solved one of his riddles.”

Marinette made a face. “His riddle was kind of pathetic. Anyone would have solved it.”

Red Robin shrugged. “Your friend is waiting in the police station down the street.”

Marinette felt her shoulders drop in relief. “Thank you,” she said before making her way to the station quickly.

Behind her, Red Robin smiled and walked back inside. Marinette was a genius, even if she didn’t realize, and he hoped Damian invited her over soon so he could see who was smarter of the two of them.

She may actually be a challenge!

Marinette walked into the police station only to be immediately hugged by the two girls.

“Thank you,” the older one’s voice was muffled by her stomach. “I was so scared. Thank you for not letting him take us.”

“I’m happy to help,” she assured them.

She saw their father talking to the officer. His eyes met hers and he mouthed, “thank you.”

She nodded to let him know she understood. The little girls let go of her and went to their father.

Looking around more, she saw the cashier being talked to by the officer. He looked a lot calmer now, thankfully. The henchman was in cuffs and being escorted to the cells for transfer.

She didn’t see Damian.

Worry was ice water in her veins and she began to shiver. Where was he? Did something happen? Was there another villain on the street that got him? Did anyone even know he was missing?

“Angel!” she turned her head toward the door to see Damian rush in. The ice water drained out, leaving warm fuzzies – hold on when did that happen?

Before she could ponder for much longer Marinette was wrapped in a hug. She returned it without thinking, breathing in and out slowly. Damian was really warm.

“I went back out to look for you, Robin told me you were here,” Damian mumbled. He stepped back, checking over her. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine, Damian. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He sighed in relief. “Don’t scare me like that again, Angel, please.”

It was now that Marinette noticed his slightly unkempt appearance. He was fine when she last saw him, but now his clothes were crooked and his hair was messy. It reminded her of someone, but she wasn’t sure who.

He must have been really worried.

Guilt was heavy on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I should have given you more warning, or only volunteered myself.”

“What?” Damian shook his head. “No, I’m glad it was us two. The Riddler would have killed anyone else. I was more worried when you fought him.”

“You fought The Riddler?” The cashier was staring at her with wide eyes. His voice was loud enough that the entire station went silent.

Marinette laughed clumsily. The guilt had lessened, but awkwardness was chaining her. “He was bad at hand to hand combat. And mad at me. That made him make some dumb moves, most people would have been able to beat him.”

 “Still,” an officer with grey hair and a mustache chuckled. “Quite commendable for a young girl.”

“It’s really nothing,” Marinette tried to wave it off. “We have a lot of villains in Paris. I’d be stupid if I didn’t learn to fight them.”

“The akuma!” the youngest daughter shouted. “I saw on the Lady’s blog about superheroes!”

She felt Tikki shift slightly in her purse.

 “Don’t believe everything on that blog,” her older sister mumbled. “There is no way sausage hair is a superhero’s best friends. Superheroes don’t make friends with civilians.”

“I only watch the videos of fights,” the young girl pouted.

“Miss, if you’re ready,” the greying officer gestured to an empty room. “We need you to retell everything that just happened for the record.”

Marinette nodded. Damian let go of her fully, and she already missed the warmth – what was that? When did these feelings start?

She followed the officer into his office, not noticing the awed looks of those around her as she passed by.

After she left, Damian Wayne pulled out his phone. Someone had to let her teacher know she was alright if they even noticed her missing at all.

They’re fools not to notice her, but Damian was glad he had no competition from those idiots.

Unnamed Teenager From France Holds off The Riddler Until Batman Arrives!

“I was just doing what anyone else would have done,” she says. “He was pretty annoying though. His riddles need work.”

“A teenage girl took down Ed?” she turned to her friend. “After that whole trap he set up?”

“Seems so,” her friend shrugged. “Good for her. Hopefully, she goes back to France before he escapes and exacts revenge.”

“Watcha ladies talking about?” a pop of bubblegum. “Ooh! This lady betta watch her back, more villains might be interested in her if she can defeat Eddie!”

“You mean like us?” she asked.

“No,” her friend sighed. “We should leave her alone. One villain on her trip is enough. And I need to care for my plants, they're important for my next heist.”

The third girl shrugged. “Ain’t up ta me, but I won’t be the one that tells Puddin’ if that helps.”

 “That helps,” she hummed. She would need to catch Batman on patrol tonight and ask him about it. She hadn’t stolen anything in a while, so he would likely talk to her for a bit.

“Of course you won’t tell him! You won’t go near him again if I have anything to say about it,” her friend replied to the third girl.

“Aw, Red, you do care!”

Chapter Text

“Marinette, seriously?” The annoyed voice of Marinette’s once-best-friend Alya Cesaire was grating to her now. “You need to stop running away just for attention, it won’t work.”

It had been a long day for Marinette. It started off well, even after being forgotten by her class, because she got to hang out with Damian. But The Riddler kind of spoiled that. After her talk with the police, Damien waited with her for a teacher to pick her up from the station. They parted when her teacher arrived, Marinette promising to text him when she got to her hotel room.

The teacher that picked her up was Professor Mendeleiev. While the science teacher’s strictness had unnerved Marinette for years, lately she had begun wishing she was in her class instead of Ms. Bustier’s. Ms. Bustier’s tactics of being a better example for a bully were starting to wear on her. Professor Mendeleiev wasn’t perfect, but Marinette would have taken being in her class over being in Ms. Bustier’s now.

When the teacher asked why Marinette had been away from the group in the first place, Marinette told her that she had been forgotten by Ms. Bustier and her class. Professor Mendeleiev went silent after that.

The rest of the ride was silent too.

It was silent until Professor Mendeleiev dropped her off at her room where Alya was waiting to rip into her about being attention-seeking and rude.

“Hello?” she sounded angry now. “Are you even listening to me? Do you think if you ignore us we’ll believe you were ever nice again? Lila told us the truth about who you are, you-”

“Alya!” her teacher snapped. “Your classmate was caught in a villain attack today. Leave her alone.”

Alya gaped. “But”

“That was not a request,” Professor Mendeleiev growled. “Do you think you can escape my detentions because we are on vacation?”

Alya squeaked and ran off to her room.

Marinette blinked, not quite sure what just happened. Relief was the cool feeling applied to a headache, stopping the pain.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. Professor Mendeleiev nodded and stalked off, mumbling something about having a long overdue talk with ‘Caline’.

Alya must have gone back to her hotel room, as Marinette didn’t encounter her or anyone else on her way back to her room.

The relief hit again, but the hint of sadness was like mint in her mouth and wetness on her cheek, despite her not actually crying.

It was hard to remember that Alya used to be her best friend. It got harder every time Alya got after her for bullying or lying or anything else that she didn’t actually do. Marinette almost wishes they hadn’t ever become friends, the betrayal would have hurt less.

It seems some wounds take years to heal.

Marinette arrived at her room and unlocked the door with her room key. She entered and immediately flopped on her bed.

“Marinette, are you alright?” she heard Tikki ask.

“I’m just tired,” she mumbled. “I’m more used to akumatized villains, not insane people with riddle obsessions.”

She felt Tikki brush aside some of her hair. “I’m just glad you’re alright. You scared me for a moment, Marinette. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.”

Marinette smiled. “Thanks, Tikki.”

“It’s simply the truth! Also, didn’t you tell that boy you would text him?”

Her eyes widened. Marinette rolled over and got her phone out of her purse. “Thanks for reminding me!”

Tikki giggled out a, “no problem,” and rested on Marinette’s stomach.

Angel: I’m at the hotel now.

Damian: That’s good
Damian: Did you get in trouble?

Marinette smiled to herself. It felt nice, being worried about… Even if she didn’t want him to worry. But the fact that he cared felt like a warm hug.

Angel: Professor Mendeleiev must’ve been tired or something.
Angel: She didn’t leacture

She frowned. That had to be wrong.

Angel: Lecture?

Damian: *lecture

Marinette rolled her eyes. In the two days she had known Damian, she knew he was a stickler for grammar. Though he wasn’t harsh about his corrections, as he knew English wasn’t her first language, it was a tad annoying. Marinette was much better at speaking and reading in English than she was at spelling.

Angel: Quiet, English is hard

Damian: Understandable.
Damian: In my original question I meant any of your classmates btw

Angel: btw?
Angel: Oh by the way

Damian: yeah

Angel: I’m good at text slang in French, okay

Damian: I don’t doubt you

She rolled her eyes and smiled. Annoying, but the banter was nice. It wasn’t like with Chat Noir when he was trying to flirt with her.

Angel: Anyway Alya tried to bother me but I’m good now
Angel: Professor Mendeleiev told her off for bothering me after my ‘traumatic’ encounter with a Gotham villain

Damian: Speaking of, are you SURE you’re alright Angel

Ooh, capital letters. He must be really worried. Guilt rested on her shoulders again on that day.

Angel: I’m fine
Angel: I’ve survived akuma for three years, I’m not about to let some riddle fanatic with terrible clothing choices ruin my day

Damian: His clothes are that bad?

Good, subject change. Maybe she can get him to stop worrying.

Angel: Too much green, for one
Angel: Green shouldn’t be used in large portions when it’s that bright of a shade
Angel: Also the cloth itself was cheap, but the kind of cheap meant to look expensive if you don’t know cloth good

Damian: *well

Marinette smiled. She hoped her little intentional mistake would make him stop worrying.

Angel: Whatever
Angel: Also his hat didn’t match the type of suit he was wearing
Angel: If he wants to go old fashioned he should at least match the time period
Angel: Longer coat, more layers
Angel: He is an atrocity

Damian: he is

Angel: If I had time to cry then my tears would had been blood

Damian: *have

“Seriously,” she grumbled to herself. The guilt had long since lifted but Damian’s need for correct grammar was going to drive her mad.

Angel: istg

Damian: It appears you’re learning

Angel: Yepp

Damian: Also the Gotham news posted an article online about you
Damian: “Unnamed Teenager From France Holds off The Riddler Until Batman Arrives!”

Angel: Wait what?
Angel: But we both held him off?

Damian: I was kind of useless, you did most of the work
Damian: I left shortly after you solved his riddle because the Robins had arrived

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. She had been scrolling through the article Damian had mentioned, realizing that it did not have any mention of her throat punching The Riddler. It did say she took him down with physical force, but it was in self-defense and she was okay.

She just didn’t want Damian to find out she punched someone in the throat. It would make him think she was violent and he’d hate her forever and never talk to her again and she’d loose the only friend she’s made in the last three years and-

Her phone, which had fallen asleep, buzzed again.

Damian: You there?

Marinette sighed, mentally reining her anxieties in.

Angel: Yeah. I was just reading the article
Angel: The Riddler was bad at hand to hand combat. It was easy to take him down with the practice I have from Paris

Damian: I bet.
Damian: It’s getting late, Angel. We should go to bed.
Damian: Goodnight

Angel: Goodnight
Angel: Also I’ll find a chat name for you soon, promise

Damian: lol okay

Marinette smiled and put her phone away. Hopefully, she would get to spend more time with him tomorrow.

This was day three of their trip to Gotham. The entire trip lasted nine days. She wanted to make the most of her trip by spending time with her friend until she had to leave.

While the thought brought a brief sadness, she put it out of her mind and continued to get ready for bed.

Marinette managed to get up on time this morning.

Meaning, she woke up from a nightmare at around four am and couldn’t go back to sleep after that because she started fully sketching out some of her outfit ideas she had yesterday. She even made a few based off the Gotham heroes, coloring those ones in.

Despite all the designing she finished, Marinette was still the first one ready and in the lobby where the class is supposed to meet every morning.

Marinette was wearing her messier clothes today. After yesterday where she confronted The Riddler in leggings, she decided to stick to pants today too. She loved the dress she brought but it would not work if she managed to confront another villain.

Besides, the dress code was more lenient today. Marinette had on a white crop top with her signature flower pattern and dark gray overalls on. She had her hair in a French braid so it was out of her face. Her tennis shoes were the same pink as the flowers and as always, she had her purse for Tikki.

When the teachers came down to wait for the class, they saw Marinette there. Professor Mendeleiev gave her a nod, to which Marinette smiled. Ms. Bustier looked conflicted for a moment before ultimately deciding to sit down away from both her and Professor Mendeleiev.

The class began to filter in. Marinette made sure to stay out of sight from everyone but the teachers. They grouped together, talking about mindless things. Mostly about what they’d do with their afternoon. Today they were going to the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum in the morning, then after lunch the rest of the day was free until 5:30 pm.

Lila arrived last. Marinette knew that she likely did it so everyone noticed her entrance. She also realized that Lila arrived a few minutes before everyone had to get on the busses, so people had time to talk to and about her.

The designer simply tuned the liar out. She didn’t care anymore.

Well, she didn’t until she heard a certain name.

“Damian is such a sweetheart,” Marinette glanced up from her phone. “We might get back together again soon, I’m not sure though. I hope so.”

“I forgot that you’re on and off,” she heard someone else say, though who didn’t matter.

“Did you say Damian?” Marinette asked before she thought out the action. Her voice was loud enough that suddenly everyone was staring at her as if they forgot she was there in the first place.

They likely had.

“Uh, yeah,” Alya scoffed. “Lila and Damian Wayne are an on and off thing. You’d know that if you weren’t skipping the field trip for attention.”

“Alya, it’s alright,” Lila sighed. “We keep it out of the tabloids and Marinette doesn’t like me, it’s not her fault she didn’t know.”

“That sounds like it’s her fault! Marinette just needs to get over herself!”

Marinette was tuning her classmates out. She felt like an idiot. But at the same time, he never told her. He must have had a reason for telling her.

But there was no mistaking it. The Riddler called him, “Wayne.” They met when she was trying to get into Wayne Enterprises. His first name was Damian and he knew the tour guide…

She tuned back into her classmates’ conversation.

“Anyway, Damian and I went and got ice cream last afternoon. That’s why I was gone, you see. He would have walked me back, but we would have attracted a crowd. Plus he got a little chocolate ice cream on his shirt, he’s so messy.”

Marinette closed her eyes. Rage is hot and fiery, her nails dug into her palms.

Calling Lila out does nothing.

But she couldn’t help but remember Damian telling her that chocolate ice cream was among his least favorites when they went to get ice cream yesterday.

And he isn’t messy.

Marinette found the museum interesting. It gave her some anxiety, learning about everything villains did to the city was nerve-wracking.

She wondered if there would ever be a Paris Museum for Akuma.

It also gave her some ideas. Learning about the Gotham Hero’s greatest feats and how they accomplished them was eye-opening.

She was doing this whole battling-Hawkmoth-thing wrong! Instead of a case by case akuma battle, which are much less frequent nowadays, she should partner with the police! There were cameras all over Paris and, unlike Kwami, corrupted butterflies appeared on them. Hawkmoth may only be attacking around once a month now, but he still needed to own up to the terror he reigned on Paris and the world.

Marinette felt a little stupid for not realizing all of this before, she realized as she whispered her ideas to Tikki in the bathroom. She could have ended it sooner if she thought to get investigative about her enemy.

But as interesting and terrifying as the museum was, the trip only took the morning. By lunch, her classmates were waiting for the teachers to decide who to take where, as no restaurant had enough room for all of them.

She pulled out her phone and opened her text chat with Damian.

Angel: Kill me now

Damian: What’s wrong?

Angel: We have to all get lunch as a class before I’m free
Angel: I’m in the group with Liar Rossi
Angel: Death would be sweatier

Marinette mumbled a curse under her breath. She meant sweeter! Stupid autocorrect.

Damian: *sweeter

Angel: Rude

Damian: Anyway
Damian: You can’t die yet
Damian: We still technically didn’t get ice cream

She managed to smile. Damian made her do that a lot now that she thought about…

Her phone pinged again.

Damian: Also you’re at the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum right?

Angel: Yes I am

Damian: I’m nearby

Marinette’s eyes widened. What?

Damian: I can pick you up for lunch

Angel: OMG really? Please do I’d really really like that

Damian: omw

She looked up, seeing that her teachers were still discussing. She walked up to them, waiting until they saw her.

Ms. Bustier did first. “Marinette! What did you need?”

“My friend invited me to eat lunch with him,” she looked at Professor Mendeleiev as she spoke, not Ms. Bustier. “May I go?”

“After what happened yesterday? I don’t thi-” Ms. Bustier was cut off by Professor Mendeleiev.

“Is this the friend you were at the station with?” she asked, voice sharp. Marinette nodded.

Professor Mendeleiev hummed, contemplating. Ms. Bustier gaped at her. “You can’t be considering allowing her to go!” she said, “Not after how mad you got at me-”

“Caline, I got mad at you for forgetting her. Allowing her to go is not the same thing,” Professor Mendeleiev glared at her, “We’re allowing you to go on your own after lunch anyway, as long as everyone has a buddy. Finding you a buddy in this class, however, is likely going to be difficult…”

She trailed off before digging into her bag. “We got trackers for this free afternoon, though we couldn’t afford them for everyone,” she brought out a black bracelet that looked plastic. “This will only give me your general location. We will still have enough for everyone else as long as they’re in pairs. If you take one, I will allow you to go to lunch and such with your friend.”

Ms. Bustier’s brows furrowed. “You’re giving her special treatment? But-”

“Caline, you forgot her twice,” Professor Mendeleiev sounded patient, as if she were an adult talking to a toddler. “Marinette earned this and she will be with a friend from Gotham, something nobody else in this class truly has besides her.”

“This is my class,” Ms. Bustier was beginning to fume. “You accompanied because two teachers were needed, but these are my students-”

“Caline,” Professor Mendeleiev sounded more annoyed. “I am allowing her to go. Since I’ve been teaching for longer and because you told me to hand out the tracking bracelets, my decision overrules yours. Your argument is pointless.”

Marinette stared as Ms. Bustier tried to find words to retaliate with and failed. She took the bracelet from Professor Mendeleiev and thanked her.

It felt nice to have someone stand up for her again.

In the corner of her eye, Marinette noticed Alya walk toward the teachers and her. She looked angry and upset, a face she nowadays wore often around Marinette.

She remembered what she thought last night, about Alya’s betrayal. How it hurt remembering the good times they shared. Marinette took a deep breath.

It still hurt. It still hurt remembering the good times they had as friends, but she had to be fair to herself. She had to remember the bad times too.

She had to remember the times Alya demanded every detail, said friends tell each other everything. She had to remember the times Alya pressured her into things she wasn’t comfortable doing. She had to remember the times Alya took her for granted, the time Alya decided she wasn’t worth as much as a liar.

She has to remember what Alya is doing to her now.

“Where is the liar going now?” Alya scoffed. “Getting permission to run away this time?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and slipped the bracelet on. She would be okay. Alya wasn’t her friend anymore, she had better ones to look out for her.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Alya gaped.

Luckily for Marinette, Alya didn’t have time to think of a response. A car drove up, and Marinette saw Damian wave to her from the backseat. She smiled.

The door was unlocked, so she opened it and got in. She didn’t look back at her classmates faces as the driver, an aged man in a suit, drove away.

“Where would you like to eat, Angel?” Damian asked.

Marinette shrugged. “I’m not sure, I don’t know what’s here.”

Damian frowned. “Angel, you okay?”

That’s when her previous realization hit. He was Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne. He was one of the celebrities Lila liked lying about the most. And he was her friend, currently best friend.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

Damian looked like he wanted to press the issue, but decided against it. He told his butler to take them to a restaurant she didn’t recognize the name of while she took deep breaths. She felt Tikki press gently against her hip, trying to reassure her.

Alya was a bad friend. Marinette wanted to be a better friend to Damian. He already made her so happy! Warm fuzzies and smiled and giggles were rare in the last few years, but she experienced them all with Damian. He kept a secret from her, likely for his own reasons, and she found out what it was behind his back.

Damian deserved better than that.

“I know,” she blurted out. “I know you’re Damian Wayne. I just want you to know that doesn’t change anything. You’re still my friend, and I don’t care who your dad is and who you are.”

Damian gaped at her for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry you had to find out on your own. I should have told you-”

Marinette interrupted, “you didn’t have to. You don’t owe me that.”

He looked confused. She chose to elaborate.

“As a stranger or even a friend, you don’t owe me any details about who you are. Ever,” Marinette told him. “You’re allowed to keep secrets and not tell me things you aren’t comfortable sharing. It isn’t fair of me to demand you tell me everything.”

She was going to be the friend she needed to Damian. It was the least he deserved.

Marinette pushed down any disappointment that came with the word friend, not knowing why it was there. Maybe it was left over from her classmates’ treatment of her.

Damian was staring at her. She wasn’t sure what his expression meant, but it looked… Awed?

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I… nobody’s ever said secrets are okay…”

Marinette shrugged. “I can’t help if I feel left out, but forcing you to tell me everything isn’t how friendship is supposed to work. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

Damian’s smile was small, but it made Marinette feel warm. Was he the sun?

“Perhaps instead of a restaurant, I can take you both to the mansion for your lunch?” the driver said, his accent different from Marinette’s.

“You sure Alfred?” Damian asked.

She saw his nervousness. “You don’t have to if you aren’t comforta-”

“No, it’s not that,” he assured. “My brothers can be… rambunctious.”

Oh. Marinette smiled. “I can handle them if that’s the only reason you’re nervous.”

Damian thought for a moment before sighing. “Alfred, please talk us to the mansion.”

“My pleasure, Master Damian.”

Chapter Text

Once Marinette got over the hugeness of the entire house – The entrance was roughly three times as big as her entire house, bakery included – it was fun. Damian didn’t take her on a tour, as he wanted to eat before talking to his brothers, but the places she saw were amazing.

Alfred showed her the kitchen – she stared at it open-jawed for nearly a minute – before having them sit in the dining room and wait until he had prepared their lunch.

Lunch was amazing, to put it lightly.

Alfred whipped up some amazing food and desserts – sugary sweets that her parents didn’t typically make. He left her and Damian alone for the most part, though she kept asking if he wanted to eat with them. He assured her that he already ate and continued to leave them alone.

It was really fun. Damian was just, in general, an awesome person, and Marinette was having more fun than she had in years.

He made her happy.

She really, really liked being happy.

But, of course, the quiet lunch didn’t last. The food was finished, Marinette was full, and she couldn’t reasonably slip anything else into her purse for Tikki. Plus, she knew some of Damian’s brothers were in the house. According to Alfred, Dick and his father were working, but the other two were home.

“Do your brothers know we’re here?” she asked while helping Alfred and Damian clean up.

“No, and we can leave before they find out if we’re quick about it,” Damian told her.

“What if I’d like to meet them?” she teased. “They sound fun!”

Damian paled, though his expression hadn’t changed.

“Alright Angel, if you’re sure,” he pursed his lips, “but if you want to leave for any reason, just tell me.”

“Master Damian, I do believe that Miss Marinette is capable of taking care of herself,” Alfred chided him.

“What he said, Damian,” Marinette giggled. “I’ll be fine. They can’t be worse than The Riddler or Hawkmoth, and I survived those two.”

If anything, that made Damian look more… upset? He didn’t look nervous anymore. More… angry? His shoulders had tensed and he gripped the plate he was holding. But before Marinette could properly decipher his emotions, his grip loosened and his shoulders relaxed.

“Todd,” his voice sounded annoyed. Marinette turned around to see who he was talking to.

A very tall man with a white streak in his hair was smirking. “Demon Spawn! I thought you went somewhere else!” He glanced down and saw Marinette. “Timmy! The Riddler girl is here!”

The Riddler girl? Why was she referred to as-

Marinette heard a crash, running footsteps, and suddenly another boy was there. He had dark purple bags under his eyes and smelled of coffee.

“Holy sh-

“Language,” Alfred tutted.

“You’re actually here! I didn’t think Damian would let you near us!” he chuckled. “I’m Tim Drake-Wayne!”

“Jason Todd-Wayne,” The tall one with the white streak said.

For a moment, she blinked at them. These were Damian’s brothers, members of the Wayne family which is very prestigious and rich and well-known.

One of has a dye job and uses nicknames. The other looks like he hasn’t slept in a week and smells like his blood is entirely coffee. They were people.

Marinette liked being reminded of that.

She smiled. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng! A pleasure to meet you!”

“So you solved The Riddler’s riddle, right?” Tim asked. “Like, knew what the answer was?”

Marinette nodded. “He probably googled it. A toddler could do better.”

Tim seemed to light up. She wasn’t sure why the riddle was ridiculously easy. She was expecting a challenge from the villain named after them.

Tim opened his mouth to add more when Damian cut in from behind her. “Drake, don’t harass her with your questions!”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“She isn’t uncomfortable-”

“You’re asking about her first and only encounter with a villain of course she is-”

“Are you even looking at her she isn’t-”

“Hey!” Marinette jumped at Jason’s voice. It wasn’t loud, but the argument was putting her on edge. Tikki in her purse pressed closer to her. It was comforting.

“Yeah?” she asked, facing him. The brothers were still arguing behind her, but her focus was on Jason now.

“So you took down The Riddler, right? Like with hand-to-hand combat?”

Now that she thought about it, the uncertainty in her was beginning to rise. how did Jason and Tim know? Her memory then decided to remind her that Damian, the two’s younger brother, had also been there. Plus there’s the article online. Damian didn’t know she had taken down The Riddler combat wise until he read it

Marinette nodded. “You must have read the article. They really made it a lot more amazing than it was.”

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. She took that as a sign to continue.

“The Riddler clearly has very little combat experience,” she moved her hands in an exasperated gesture. “In Paris, we have akuma that turn people into temporary villains, so most people learn basic combat to stay alive.”

Jason huffed. “Are you saying you only know the basics?”

Marinette tried not to freeze. If she said she only knows the basics, she’s lying. If she says she doesn’t, he might figure out her identity – the Wayne family was supposed to be smart!

“My class is attacked by akuma often,” she says instead, allowing him to come to his own conclusion about her words.

Jason hummed, contemplating. Then he grinned.

“Want to spar with me?” he asked. “I’m not a slouch in combat myself, and I’d like to see how good you are.”

No. Marinette should say no. Jason would respect her answer and she shouldn’t fight someone else in Gotham when the news already made an article about her. She needed to draw less attention to herself she should say no-

“Sure!” her mouth moved on its own.

Curses!

“What?” Damian asked, interrupting Tim during their argument.

She spun around to face him and Tim while Jason slung an arm over her shoulders. “Freckles here just agreed to spar with me!”

Marinette almost expected the sudden physical contact to make her tense but it didn’t. Huh. Maybe she was doing better than she thought, dealing with… well, everything.

She turned her head to look at him. “Freckles?”

“It’s your nickname. ’Cause you’ve got Freckles.”

Marinette shrugged. It was better than Princess. Plus, it would be weird if he called her Angel too – wait why would that be weird? It’s just a nickname between friends!

“Do you seriously want to duel her because she beat The Riddler?” Tim scoffed.

“You wanted to question her because she solved his riddles! Plus-”

“Todd,” Damian hissed.

“Yeah demon spawn?” Jason went from annoyed to bored pretty quickly.

Marinette felt like another argument was going to happen. “Damian, I agreed to it,” she told him, meeting his eyes. “Plus, akuma are typically much larger than me anyway. It’s not like I’m going to break from someone as small as Jason!”

Jason and Tim both laughed at that, but she paid more attention to Damian. he seemed to tense for a moment again before his shoulders dropped. He grumbled something that Marinette couldn’t understand and turned around.

“We have a gym down the hall,” Tim helpfully provided. Jason was still giggling, his arm removed from her shoulder.

Marinette made her way there, following Tim. Damian walked behind her, and she heard him talking to Jason, but she wasn’t sure what was being said.

Plus, they just had this whole conversation about the right to secrets! If Damian didn’t want her to know, she wouldn’t eavesdrop.

“Do you know your IQ?” Tim asked.

Marinette blinked at the sudden, and odd, question. “No, I don’t think I ever took the test.”

She did remember taking a test when she was younger, but that couldn’t have been the IQ test. It was difficult, and there were things she didn’t know, but the IQ test wouldn’t be as easy. Plus, her parents would have told her if she had taken an IQ test!

Tim seemed to deflate slightly. “Do you have any measurement of your problem-solving skills?”

Marinette had a feeling that Tim was trying to compete without telling her the rules of his competition. She played nonchalant though, shrugging it off.

“My parents don’t like playing strategy games with me,” she said, remembering how even as a young girl she always won. They pretended to like it because she liked them, but she could tell it wasn’t fun for them after a while. She’s not sure that they weren’t just pretending to loose for her though.

“You always win?” Tim asked. She nodded.

“Hey Timmy, stop holding Freckles up!” Jason called from ahead of them. Marinette jumped this time, wondering how he snuck around them without her noticing.

She checked – Damian was with him too. What the hell?

“Alright, alright,” Tim grumbled. The two sped up and soon entered the gym.

It was huge, much like everything else in their mansion. There were several treadmills, punching bags, different assortments of weight lifting equipment, and a large mat in the center. Likely for sparring.

Marinette was glad she had chosen her overalls instead of her dress.

Jason took off his jacket and took a position on the mat. Marinette followed suit, setting her purse with Tikki inside near his jacket. When she took a position, she made sure that it was off slightly. She didn’t want to try her hardest, just in case the brothers realized something about her. Something about spots.

Jason lunged, Marinette ducked his punch and maneuvered behind him, driving an elbow into his back. He dodged, barely, and went for a swipe under her feet.

She let herself be tripped, maneuvering her fall so she wasn’t hurt.

“Well, that was fu-”

“You can do better than that!” Tim cried. “There’s no way that’s it.”

“Drake,” Damian grumbled.

Jason paused. “Wait, you weren’t really trying?”

“I-” she hated liars, she didn’t like lying, and usually preferred telling half-truths “What makes you think that wasn’t my best?”

“The Riddler is bad at combat,” Tim leaned against the wall, “But he’s better than that. Why are you holding back?”

“She can hold back if she wants to,” Damian grumbled.

“Jason wanted to see how good she is,” Tim retorted. “If she’s holding back, it’s like purposefully failing a test or losing a game!”

“No, it’s not!” Marinette responded before thinking, her competitive side awakening. It was hugely different! It wasn’t a game and-

“Why are you not trying to win, Freckles?” Jason asked. “This is sort of a competition.”

Marinette’s eye twitched. She was losing the game!

She got up and assumed a better position. “Fine then,” she huffed, deciding to make this quick. She could get her parents to vouch for her if needed, as she did actually sign up for combat lessons.

Jason got into position and this time, she attacked first.

She knew he was likely too heavy for her to swipe under his feet, so she instead went for a fake punch to the throat. He grabbed her fist to block and she grabbed onto his other hand to swing onto his shoulders. He attempted to pull her down with the hand she grabbed but she managed to remove it from his grip and grab it with her own.

“What the hell!”

Jason’s wrists were held by her. He couldn’t shake her grip off him, her hold was too strong. He was attempted to buck her off his shoulders, but Marinette’s legs wrapped around him too tight to be shaken off. As he struggled to get her to let go, she began to swing around to make him lose balance.

He didn’t have his arms to stabilize him or catch his fall. His bucking made his lack of balance worse, and with several curses, he began falling backward. Marinette let go of his trapped hands mid-fall flipped off him, somehow dodging his head.

When Jason landed face-first on the mat she was there quick as lightning, pinning his arms behind him and his legs with her weight.

“I win,” she grinned.

Jason responded with more muffled curses.

She got off of him and helped him up. After he was standing, she spared Damian and Tim a glance.

Tim’s mouth was open, likely because she climbed all over his brother to beat him – but Jason’s much bigger than her, so she had to use his weight against him somehow!

Damian… Damian’s expression seemed neutral, but his hands were open instead of fists. They shook slightly too.

She wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Holy hell what are they teaching you in Paris?” Jason grumbled, pupping his back.

Marinette bit her lip. She should have gone easier on him. “I’m sorry-”

“Why?” Jason asked. “I asked for you to fight me. This was fun even if I got a mouthful of matt.”

“Do you work out?” Tim asks.

“Not regularly,” she says. “But my parents own a bakery and the flour bags are heavy. Plus, sometimes someone orders a huge cake, and those can get heavy too!”

Tim nodded.

Damian was still silent. She frowned.

Jason spoke before she could. “Hey Demon Spawn, are you rebooting or something?”

Damian blinked. “Apologies. I’m a bit surprised, as I didn’t see Marinette actually fight The Riddler, I didn’t know what she was capable of.”

Marinette felt her dread building up. He was afraid of her and he hates her and she wouldn’t have him as a friend and she’d be heartbroken and because of his rejection and – wait what?

“What?” she said out loud, “I’m sorry I zoned out.”

“He said you did a good job, Freckles,” Jason interrupted Damian. Jason seemed smug for some reason. Damian’s eyes looked greener – or was his face redder?

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled.

“Okay since that’s over now,” Tim rubbed his hands together. “Marinette-”

“Please tell me none of you died,” Bruce Wayne, as in THE Bruce Wayne walks in, surveying the room. “Huh. I’m surprised there isn’t any blood. Alfred told me you were sparring.”

“Jason decided to spar Damian’s girl-”

“Marinette,” Damian interrupted. “My friend Marinette.”

Bruce Wayne sees her for the first time and Marinette has to shake off the feeling of being analyzed.

“She’s the girl that punched Riddler in the throat,” Tim says helpfully, and she feels slightly embarrassed but – hang on.

How does he know that? There’s no way he could have known that.

She abandons that thought and decides to introduce herself.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” she goes to shake his hand since that’s how Americans greet each other. He takes it and shakes.

“She won against Todd by the way,” Damian says and Bruce stiffened? She’s not sure what that’s about.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bruce says. “Alfred wanted to invite you to stay for dinner.”

Marinette paused. “I apologize, but I must be returned to my class by five-thirty pm,” she says. American time is really weird.

“Uh, it’s four forty now,” Jason points out, “How long is the drive, Freckles?”

Marinette pails. “I should probably head back-”

“I’ll go with you,” Damian says. “Alfred can drive us if that is alright with you.”

She nodded, going over and grabbing her purse. “Thanks for inviting me over,” she smiled at Damian. She turned to his brothers and father, “It was wonderful to meet you guys!”

“I’ll win the sparring match next time, Freckles,” Jason told her. He was smiling though, and so was she.

Tim grumbled something about not getting to test something. “You better come back,” he said out loud.

Marinette a mixture of sorrow and guilt in her chest when she remembered her limited time here. Her smile turned to more of a grimace. But she shoved the nasty emotion away. “I’d love to return if I’m invited.”

“When,” he told her.

She managed to smile again. “When.”

She and Damian left the room. Alfred, who already seemed aware of the situation, escorted them to the car.

The ride was silent at first. Marinette couldn’t tell if Damian didn’t know what to say or was comfortable with simply sitting there.

“The brothers I met were nice,” she told him. “They seem annoying-”

“You can say that again,” he grumbled.

“-but they seem like decent brothers,” she finished. “They’re fun people too.”

Damian shrugged. “Sometimes.” Marinette saw his lip twitch though and knew he was happier than he let on.

“Do you have secrets?” he asked suddenly after a few more minutes of silence. “You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but you’re aware that there are things I’m not comfortable telling you yet and-”

“I have secrets,” she said, feeling Tikki nudge her. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday,” Tikki nudged harder.

Damian smiled slightly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to, Angel. It’s only fair that I give you what you’re giving me.”

Marinette grinned wide. “Thank you,” she said earnestly.

“We have arrived,” Alfred said from the front seat. Damian opened the door and got out, holding it open for her, and she mumbled a quick thanks.

As she got out, the worst happened. Her clumsiness, while rarer nowadays, sent a curse from where it resided in her Paris bedroom.

She tripped over Damian’s feet.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry,” she struggled to get the English out while scrambling to get off the ground.

“It’s alright Angel,” he said from behind and Marinette stiffened, ice water filling her veins.

Oh no, no no no.

Damian helped her up, and she turned to face him. The sun wasn’t setting, it was still low in the sky and she was seeing him in a new light.

“Is something wrong?” he sounded worried.

The ice water got colder.

“I’m okay,” she said, brushing off her knees. “I used to fall like that all the time, but I’m okay, I promise.”

Damian’s face smoothed back to its neutral expression, but Marinette knew he was still worried. She wasn’t sure how she knew though.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask,” he told her.

She felt numb. “I won’t,” she said.

They said their goodbyes. The car drove away. Distantly, Marinette realized that the sun was setting.

The ice water froze her to the core, it’s dread soon becoming a guilty weight to carry on her shoulders.

“Tikki,” she whispered. “I think Damian is Robin.”

“He knows. He’s going after her,” her friend sounded tense. “The girl from the article.”

“The one that took down Riddler?”

“The same one.”

“That’s not good,” she mumbled. “I haven’t even gotten to talk to Batsy yet.”

“Don’t tell her, okay?” her friend’s tenseness bled into worry. “She doesn’t ever need to see him again.”

“She doesn’t know?” she asked. “Don’t you two tell each other everything?”

“Just don’t tell her,” her friend stood. “I will when I’m done.”

“Done with what?” she asked, turning to watch her friend leave.

Her friend didn’t answer.

Chapter Text

Her hotel room was bland. There’s a creepy painting of two children in a bucket on the wall. The bed was stiff and the sheets are scratchy.

Marinette wasn’t sure when she got to her hotel room. She couldn’t remember walking in. She didn’t know what time it was or how long she stood outside in the first place. She was a puppet on strings. She didn’t know who was pulling them.

Distantly, she heard someone talking. She knew it had to be Tikki, nobody else was in her hotel room, but she didn’t have the energy to answer or to even fully listen.

Damian Wayne was Robin.

Of all things, she recognized his voice. He almost called her Angel during The Riddler incident too. She didn’t know why it clicked then, perhaps the similar wording?

It was easy to deduce the identities of Gotham’s other heroes after that.

Tim was obviously Red Robin. He complimented her ability to solve The Riddler’s riddles when he rescued her and was questioning her IQ as Tim after that. Jason clearly went easy on her during their spar, because Red Hood had many more skills than he showed then – not that Marinette cared about the spar now. Or anything else really.

Nightwing must be the brother she didn’t officially meet, though she did see him on her first day here at Wayne Enterprises. And Bruce Wayne was Batman. Marinette hadn’t met all the Gotham heroes or all the Waynes, but what she knew matched up.

She ignored the sheets, the bed, the painting, and the room for a moment. “Tikki,” her voice was hoarse – how long had it been since the goodbye? – “How did I figure out Damian was Robin when it took me so long to figure out Adrien was Chat?”

“I’m sorry Marinette,” Tikki’s voice sounded far away, muffled. “The magic of the miraculous must have tampered with your reasoning for Adrien. I assume that since you know it’s him now, there was no use of it anymore. You likely would have known Adrien was Chat from the beginning if it was never there.”

Tikki might have said something else, but she didn’t know. The ringing in her ears was louder than her kwami. The hotel room seemed to fade away, and she was trapped in the hollow darkness.

Marinette was a horrible person and friend.

Dread was ice water coursing through her body. It was freezing, she wasn’t sure if she had any real blood anymore.

It was her fault. It was her fault that she knew Damian was Robin, she has no right to know that he’s Robin when he’s clearly keeping it secret to protect himself and his family. Marinette didn’t deserve to know.

Guilt was the crushing weight chaining her to the ground. It got heavier and heavier. She struggled to stay upright.

Why did she have to be such a screw-up? She and Damian even discussed this, they talked about how friends didn’t have to tell each other everything. Marinette didn’t deserve to be his friend.

Sadness was mint in her mouth and wetness on her cheek. The wetness was real though, surrounding her and drowning her. She struggled in it, her movements sluggish under the pressure.

She betrayed his trust. She found out something he wasn’t comfortable with her knowing. Marinette was worse than Alya.

Her throat felt tight.

Marinette should have never tried to have friends again, not when she always screwed up. Damian didn’t deserve to have someone as awful as her as a friend.

Her lungs ached.

Damian deserved better.

She couldn’t breathe.

She wasn’t breathing.

Distantly, Marinette thought that she didn’t deserve to.

“Marinette, please calm down please,” the voice sounded desperate. “Marinette you’re having a panic attack and you aren’t breathing, please-”

She gasped for air as if she had been drowning. Her breaths were heavy, her body desperate to gain back the oxygen she deprived it of. Marinette tried to calm herself, she needed to stop herself from dissociating, from spiraling.

Deep breath.

She needed to focus.

Deep breath.

The sheets are scratchy. The fabric was clearly cheap, she often saved her allowance to try and afford better supplies when she designed.

Deep breath.

The bed was stiff. Marinette wished it had more pillows like hers at home. She wished it was soft, more relaxing. It was hard sleeping on it, but it was hard sleeping anyway.

Deep breath.

She could see the creepy painting of two children in a bucket on the wall. It was black and white except for the blue color of their shirts. Their eyes were wide in surprise or fear she didn’t know.

Deep breath.

Her hotel room is bland. The off-white color of the walls matched the off-white carpet and the off-white sheets. The furniture was also all white. It was a little bright, but it needed more color. More design to it.

Deep breath.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked.

Deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry I-”

Tikki shook her head. “Are you alright?”

Marinette shook her head. She hadn’t had an attack that bad in years. Not since-

The memories came hurtling back, and she gripped the sheets as if they could save her. She didn’t want to remember don’t make her remember please don’t please-

Deep breath.

She was disassociating again. She needed to find a way to stay present.

“Why don’t you try designing?” Tikki’s voice was far away again, but Marinette clung to it like a lifeline.

She might have nodded. She didn’t remember. She didn’t remember moving. But suddenly she was sitting at the white desk with her travel sewing machine and her sketchbook. She had the fabric she bought here before The Riddler incident. She and Damian dropped it off before going for ice cream.

Deep Breath.

Her sketchbook was open but her brain wouldn’t let her process what was on the page. It was colored though, red and black. She bought red and black fabric for her ladybug inspired jacket, but she had no problem using it now.

She wanted out of her own head. Designing, making clothes, those things grounded her.

Tikki was telling a story in the background, of what Marinette didn’t know. She couldn’t pay attention right now, she wasn’t even fully aware of what she was making.

But it was calming her. She was able to focus on her movements instead of her thoughts, go through the motions of something she loved.

Lila had taken many things from her, but she never did take her joy for designing.

The measurements she was following were on the page. She wasn’t conscious of what they actually were. But she measured, she cut, and she sewed.

She could feel the fabric under her fingers, the coolness of her sewing machine. Her vision was blurred and her cheeks were wet.

Measure, cut, sew.

She needed to make it up to Damian somehow. Should she reveal herself to him – a quid pro quo?

Measure, cut, sew.

No. She didn’t know how many villain fights or what type Robin got in but if he accidentally told anyone she would be in danger. Whether another villain made a deal with Hawkmoth or somehow got akumatized – her identity was secret for a reason.

Measure, cut, sew.

She had to protect her family first and foremost. But Damian… she ruined her friendship with him. She made a huge, unfixable mistake and there’s no way he would ever want to be around her anymore once he knew.

Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew.

That’s to say… If he knew…

Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew.

But Marinette couldn’t do that! That would be even more of a betrayal of trust to keep a secret about him from him, and she personally would like to know if she compromised her identity…

Sew. Sew. Sew. Sew.

If Hawkmoth wasn’t a threat anymore, she would tell him. He clearly knew how to keep a secret, though her figuring it out wasn’t exactly a good moment.

Sew. Sew. Sew.

And she did have that plan for getting rid of Hawkmoth, the one she got from the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum. She became inspired by Damian and his family to track the akuma and find Hawkmoth.

Sew. Sew.

Fight him face to face. End the terrorism and suffering once and for all.

Stitch.

Marinette blinked through her tears. It seemed they finally stopped. Her half-baked plans paused, and she looked at what she created.

A hand immediately flew to her mouth to stifle the new wave of sobs rising in her throat. A fresh wave of tears fell, spilling onto the fabric in her other hand.

She made the Robin hoodie.

She made the Robin hoodie that she designed.

It was red, though the bottom hem of it was yellow. The sleeves were black and the torso part of the hoodie was red. The string to the hoodie was also red, but it has thick yellow stripes, like the yellow marks down the middle of Robin’s suit.

The cuffs of the sleeve were green and had little cloth triangles on them. The triangles were smaller than the ones Robin had on his gloves, but the cardboard in them helped them stick out as they did on the hero's costume.

The hood, like the sleeves, was black, but the inside was yellow, much like Robin’s cape. Robin’s label was on the shoulder, black and yellow.

Marinette glanced at the sketchbook page that she was going off of. It sprinkled in wet marks – likely her own tears – but the measurements she remembered writing.

She remembered writing them when she and Damian got lunch before ice cream.

She remembered trying to estimate his measurements without asking for them.

She remembered adding a few centimeters just in case…

She made Damian a Robin hoodie. She made Damian a hoodie of himself.

She glanced back at the hoodie, recognizing the yellow and green fabric. It was from the old sweater that she brought in case she got cold at night… she didn’t even remember getting it out…

Of course she made this of course her subconscious is aware of how awful she is. She’s despicable and doesn’t deserve Damian-

“Marinette?” Tikki’s voice was quiet. Tired.

“I’m okay,” she said, mentally digging her heels into the present moment. She could not dissociate again. She could not spiral again.

Deep breath.

Marinette carefully hung up the hoodie she made in the small hotel room closet. She threw away the sweater and saved whatever scraps of fabric left behind – maybe she could make a hat.

“I’m sorry Tikki,” her voice was wobbly and hoarse. “I’m so sorry I-”

“Marinette,” Tikki flew to her, face full of pity – no, understanding. Sympathy. “It’s not your fault.”

“But-” it was! She found out his identity she ruined their friendship and anything else they could have had and it was all her fault-

“Panicking and anxiety is normal,” Tikki told her. “You don’t have to apologize for your emotions.”

Marinette nodded. What Tikki said made sense. She needed to compartmentalize her emotions for the moment and get herself together.

She couldn’t make this up to Damian, and she didn’t deserve to. It’s her fault and he shouldn’t be around someone as awful as her.

It would hurt her more than him, but she needs to save him. She’s too much like her classmates, like Alya and Lila, to continue as his friend. She didn’t want to hurt him.

The room was stifling. She wanted out. She couldn’t leave the hotel though, that would be too dangerous – and she might run into Dami- Robin.

“I’m going to go downstairs,” Marinette mumbled to Tikki. “See if I can get anything out of the vending machines. You stay here, I don’t want to accidentally talk to you around others.”

Tikki nodded, clearly not happy about it but understanding. “You wouldn’t want to wake anyone up.”

“What?” Marinette turned to the clock on the desk and-

Four A.M. She lost eleven hours to an attack.

Deep Breath.

Marinette squared her shoulders. She would go downstairs to get a snack, come back up and try to fall asleep. With any luck, she would miss the class’s trip to GothCorp tomorrow if she turned off her alarm…

She moved like a zombie in the halls. Her room key was in her Tikki-less purse with some stale cookies. She had her slippers on. She hadn’t changed completely into her pajamas, as she still wore her white crop top, but her pajama bottoms were on instead of the overalls. She didn’t have her phone.

Marinette arrived at the lobby and walked to the vending machine area. In her hand was a few US dollars with the green and the old men’s faces. She figured she could maybe afford one of the candy bars here. Damian mentioned liking things with dark chocolate – despite not liking the, “too sweet,” chocolate ice cream at the parlor. He was going to get the salted caramel until-

She paused, mentally reining herself in. If she thinks about Damian, she’ll spiral again. She needs to get the candy bar and head back to her room.

That’s it.

Marinette began to walk again. The lights were on behind the desk, and the vending machines had light. Other than that, the rest of the lights were off. She didn’t really mind though, simply going over to the machines.

Her ears picked up on someone moving around in the dark, near the couches in the lobby. She turned, immediately getting into a fighting stance when-

“Have you been crying?” A sickly-sweet voice said, and Marinette knew immediately who it was. The girl walked toward her, stopping a few feet from Marinette so she was visible in the light. She turned away from Lila and back to the vending machine, ignoring the footsteps behind her.

When Marinette didn’t answer Lila took it as a sign to continue.

“You know, when you passed here earlier you seemed really out of it,” Marinette straightened out her dollar bill.

“I was waiting down here to comfort you, thinking you would return, but I fell asleep on the couch.” She didn’t know how much of that was true. She put the bill into the vending machine.

“I just wanted to see if you were-”

“You can stop lying,” Marinette’s voice was still wobbly from crying, but she didn’t care. “I haven’t bought any of your crap yet, no need to continue selling it to me.”

There was a moment of silence. More footsteps, but they sounded further away.

“Fine then, Dupain-Cheng,” Lila growled. “I wanted to warn you.” Marinette tried and failed to refrain from rolling her eyes as Lila talked.

“You think that when you leave this school, when you graduate early, I’ll be gone?” What button should she press?

“Your useless sheep classmates will always be wrapped around my fingers, coming to my every beck and call.” The label next to the dark chocolate Hershey’s bar said B2. She pressed B then 2.

She heard more footsteps. They sounded closer. Lila was probably trying to intimidate her.

“You’ve even lost Adrien,” Lila sounded haughty about that, but the words relieved Marinette. “You are nothing, Dupain-Cheng.” The Hershey’s bar fell to the bottom of the vending machine.

“Are you done?” she asked, leaning down to get her prize. “I couldn’t care less about any of what you just said. Might as well talk about Physics if you want me to pay attention more.”

She looked over to Lila-

Wait.

Lila stood in the same spot as she was before, looking flabbergasted that Marinette didn’t care about her power trip tirade.

She hadn’t moved.

More footsteps, even closer than before. Not as close as Lila was.

Marinette grabbed her chocolate bar and stood up slowly. If someone else was here…

“What do you mean you couldn’t care less?” Lila suddenly shrieked.

“Lila, calm down,” Marinette saw shoes appear at the very edge of where the light from the vending machines reached. Shoes and the hems of purple pants.

“You think that if you just brush me off, pretend you don’t care, that I’ll go away,” Lila hissed. “I am your worst nightmare, Dupain-Cheng. You will never escape me!”

“Lila-”

“No! You will listen to me!”

She heard movement. They were moving. Without thinking she reached over and grabbed Lila’s arm and yanked her behind where Marinette stood.

A spray of liquid erupted from the shadow, hitting where Lila was once standing.

“Why so serious, little girl?” there was a giggle, and Marinette suddenly deeply regretted leaving her phone upstairs.

“Call the police,” she mumbled. She heard Lila desperately searching through her pockets.

If this is who she thinks it is… Ice water ran through her body instead of blood, but the buildup of dread kept her shivers at bay.

“Looking for this?” A gloved hand displayed Lila’s phone in its orange case.

Marinette held Lila back just in case. “Please!” the lair called desperately. “S-several people have me as their emergency contact, Clara Nightingale, Damian Wayne, Jag-”

The hand threw the phone to the ground and the shoe stomped on it.

“I wish your little friend didn’t pull you out of the way,” the voice dawdled. “It would have been fun to see you with a smile on your face.”

The feet stepped forward.

Purple pants.

Purple suit.

Green undershirt.

Purple tie.

White plastic flower.

White face.

Green hair.

Crazed eyes.

The Joker stared at them, smile just a bit too wide. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“When I heard you beat The Riddler at his own game,” Joker’s tone was full of amusement, but Marinette didn’t feel like laughing. “I decided I just had to see what you were made of myself.”

He tilted up his flower. “Get ready to smile!”

Chapter Text

As soon as Joker said those words, Marinette threw her chocolate bar at his face.

It wasn’t much, obviously. It was just a chocolate bar. But it still hit him across the eyes and distracted him long enough for her to grab the vending machine and throw that too.

Well, throw is the wrong word. She wasn’t able to pick it up and hurl it like Superman would a building, but she was able to quickly move it and sent it falling in the Joker’s direction. She saw it land but didn’t want to stick around to see him get out from under it.

“Run!” she yelled at Lila. She didn’t move right away so Marinette grabbed her wrist and pulled.

Lila began to run with her. Then she changed their course toward the elevator. Marinette didn’t like that – having to wait was bad enough, but the doors wouldn’t shut the Joker out if they sensed his limb in the way. She tried to lead Lila toward the front doors so they could get some help.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lila hissed.

“We can’t lead him to the others, and I don’t want to be trapped in an elevator with the Joker,” Marinette let go of Lila’s wrist. “Besides, the vending machine won’t hold him for long-”

Lila growled and grabbed her wrist. “I am tired of your superiority complex, Marinette-”

She ripped her wrist from Lila’s grip. “Look who’s talking! Besides, I’m only being rational. We can’t win, we need help, and our teachers and classmates won’t be able to do sh-”

The vending machine’s glass shattered when it crashed to the floor. Joker staggered up, clearly injured. Even in the dying light of the vending machine, Marinette could see his wide grin. It made her bones shiver.

“You certainly are a challenge, Parisian brat!”

She reached for her purse. She had two stale cookies, her key card, and the purse itself. She could maybe use the cookies as-

A playing card, razor-sharp, whizzed by her hand. Her purse fell to the ground, clearly cut by it.

He had projectiles. He had a deadly chemical. She had to assume that nobody was coming for her, that Joker somehow distracted them or they just didn’t care. She had nothing. She was nothing she wouldn’t ever be anything she was useless, unworthy, unlov-

Marinette ducked automatically to avoid another round of the sharp cards, the movement jarring her mind. She had to focus! She didn’t have time to panic now!

Deep Brea-

“I’m going to take great joy,” The Joker laughed, “In watching you laugh and seeing you smile, girlie. Maybe I’ll even see what you look like under that spotted skin of yours.”

Marinette tried to keep the imagery of him peeling her freckled skin off her face out of her head. It didn’t work.

His gait was slow. He was bleeding through his suit. He had to rely on the cards more. These were all good things.

Her earlier maneuver caused her to end up next to the front desk, where she was entirely visible in the only remaining light source. She could still hear the Joker’s steps and see his shadow in the dim light, but it wasn’t much. Her purse was on the ground, a few feet away, the strap cut off. These were all bad things.

She couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in, she was drowning, her lungs screamed.

But she had to do something.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lila continuing toward the elevator. When it opened, a new light source from the inside of it illuminated her and her position.

The Joker noticed – of course he did he wasn’t as stupid as Hawkmoth – and threw several sharp cards at her. Marinette yelled a warning and Lila screeched, dodging barely.

Well, mostly dodging. Several chunks of her hair were cut by the cards, but right now Marinette couldn’t care less. The elevator closed when Lila didn’t enter it.

The Joker was heading toward Lila still – No! Marinette reached up onto the desk and grabbed the first thing she could and hurled it at him.

She saw it flying – a landline phone – and heard it made contact. It was only after she threw it that she realized she should have maybe used it to call the police.

Oops.

The Joker growled. “Ed failed to mention how annoying you are. I can’t blame him. He prefers rules, regulations, patterns. He doesn’t understand anarchy. He doesn’t understand that chaos is-”

Marinette cut him off by throwing the battery-powered lamp from the desk at him. The lightbulb shattered on his jaw and plunged the entire hotel hobby into pitch-black darkness.

Marinette was now heavily disadvantaged, but so was her adversary. And hopefully, her experience in swinging around rooftops at night, and fighting akuma in pitch black rooms would help her come out on top.

Two sets of footsteps. One pair heavier, gait slow and uneven due to injury. The other lighter, along the walls across the room.

Marinette tuned the other out, focusing on the footsteps that were trying to end her life right now. She could feel the carpet underneath her bare feet, the slight sting of rugburn. It grounded her, kept her from spiraling.

“Where are you, girlie?”

She silently rolled over to her purse. The clasp would make a click when she opened it, so she didn’t. She picked up the card used to cut it, carefully, and cut it open.

Two stale cookies, her key card, and the strap that was removed from the purse earlier.

She heard his footsteps move past her and put a hand to her mouth to muffle her breathing. She heard the sound of wood being sliced – he must have thrown a bunch of cards at the desk where she once was.

Marinette, as silent as a cat, crawled along the carpeted floor toward the front doors. She still remembered the layout of the room, luckily.

“Do you know the power of laughter?” The Joker sounded further away, but not by much. His footsteps were walking away from her, toward the elevator.

It was only after Marinette had been blinded by a light that she realized she should have paid more attention to where Lila was. The girl has walked along the wall behind the desk and turned on the lights by the front door.

The Joker whirled around to see her, grabbing some cards-

No.

No, Marinette couldn’t let him do that, no no n-

“No,” she screamed, throwing a crumbling and stale cookie at the eye she could see from the side angle. It hit, and the Joker let out some strong obscenities as it did so.

Marinette noticed him trying to regain his balance and slid her room’s key card under where his feet landed. Luckily, her plan worked and he slipped cartoon-banana style onto his back while still rubbing cookie crumbs out of his eye. His fall aggravated some of the still bleeding cuts on his body if his angry scream had anything to say about it.

Lila had begun to run to the elevator. As stupid as her classmate was, Marinette was glad. The Joker was fully focused on her, and wouldn’t care that the elevator was being used so long as he was occupied with Marinette. She wouldn’t have to worry about Lila’s life.

The Joker turned to face her, eye still red from the cookie. His pant leg seemed to be more blood-soaked now and he had a few newer cuts on his jaw and neck from the lamp. And he was furious.

Very furious.

Marinette couldn’t count on any help. There was a chance that Lila would leave her to die to the Joker, hoping he would go away after she was finished. She didn’t want to assume any of the heroes were coming, she didn’t want to think of them right now.

There was no way she’d beat the Joker.

But she had to stay alive long enough to call for help herself.

“If you weren’t so resistant and,” The Joker lolled his head and grinned, “Dull, I’d consider allowing you to become my new Harley-girl.”

“I’d rather die,” Marinette said without thinking, slowly standing from the floor. She clutched her purse strap tight. Her last cookie was too crushed to use.

“And so you will,” The Joker raised his cards.

Marinette wouldn’t be able to dodge fully, but if she could avoid dying instantly she can still fight while injured – she’s done it before.

But then a vine grabbed his arm from behind her.

No, not a vine. A whip. A whip made of a vine.

“I suggest leaving the girl alone,” Marinette glanced behind her to see a woman with bright red hair and an outfit made of plants.

Poison Ivy.

She looked back to Joker, who’s grin was now a snarl.

You see, Joker was the A++ of the villains because he’s the one that got all the normal questions and all the bonus questions right. Everybody in the world knows about him. Ivy, in terms of ferocity and general evilness, she scored lower than Joker.

But the Joker is injured. He had a limp and he’s bleeding and Ivy isn’t. Plus, for all Marinette knows, the Joker has been cheating on all his tests.

Though right now who was the better villain didn’t really matter because one was trying to kill her and one was trying to save her.

Marinette rolled out of the way of the two villains and stood. Joker wasn’t focused on her; his angry eyes were trained on Ivy.

“You stole my Harley,” he growled. Marinette couldn’t find it within herself to feel an ounce of sympathy for him.

“She wasn’t ever yours,” Poison Ivy spat the name ‘yours’ like a curse.

Marinette felt like they were two nuclear bombs about to go off and she was just waiting to see who would blow up first.

It was Joker.

He grabbed onto the vine wrapped around his arm and pulled. Ivy lost her balance but let go of the vine so it hit Joker in the face as he yanked it. The vine landed near his eye that still leaked cookie crumbs and Joker howled.

Marinette tried to remember something about Ivy’s powers. She was immune to all poisons and toxins. She could make other people immune too. And…

Marinette’s eyes went to the plants by the hotel lobby’s windows. She knew they were real, she could smell it when she first walked in. Fake plants didn’t emit the same scent that she started picking up on the longer she was Ladybug.

While Joker and Ivy were fighting – Ivy just kicked him in his bad leg after he tried to use Joker Venom on her and failed – Marinette ran to the plants.

“Let’s see if I can help her,” she mumbled, picking up one of the larger pots. It had a rock about the size of papa’s fist in the pot, likely to keep it from falling over. It was still light compared to the vending machine.

“IVY!”

Poison Ivy glanced at her, then Marinette threw the pot, hoping she wasn’t skinned alive for throwing a plant. But she seemed to get the message and extended a hand out to the plant.

In midair, it expanded. Grew. The plant was well taken care of, so it grew enough that the pot burst, it’s roots hit the ground and its rapidly expanding stalk punched Joker in the throat.

It stopped growing once it hit about four and a half meters. The high ceiling of the hotel was about six meters, so nothing stopped it from falling.

She heard someone say something. It sounded like, “look out,” but Marinette was more focused on scrambling out of the way of this plant that chose to fall toward her instead of Joker.

It crashed through the window, spilling shattered glass onto the street. The sound was loud and Marinette flinched, her back against the wall adjacent to the window to avoid becoming smashed like a bug.

She barely had time to think before more playing cards were thrown at her. She hit the ground, using the huge plant as cover.

“You dirty rat,” he spat out. His voice was raw, and she couldn’t see the bruise forming on his neck. She could imagine it though.

Her lungs ached. Marinette covered her mouth and breathed in, trying not to make noise.

“You best leave her alone, Jester,” Ivy snarled. She sounded fine, slightly winded, but uninjured.

“I wanted to see the little Parisian smile,” he sounded wistful, sad. Marinette closed her eyes and remembered his face. She wouldn’t fall in his little trap. She hoped Poison Ivy wouldn’t either.

“You wanted to kill her.”

“Killing you would be a dream come true too.”

She heard more cards. She heard the vine whip being used. She heard something be sliced – the door? She heard Joker laugh.

She smelled blood.

“What?” Ivy’s breathing was labored. “You think a little flesh wound would bother me?”

“It’ll bother that brat you stole from me,” Joker sounded utterly delighted. “It’ll bother her more if she finds it on a lifeless body!”

Marinette’s heart lurched into her throat. No, no she couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t expect Ivy to save her without risking Ivy.

She still had her purse strap. Silently, Marinette moved around the plant.

She heard Ivy lash out with her whip again. It sounded slower.

Marinette ducked and rolled under a stalk that was high enough off the ground to go under.

After a brief scuffle, she heard something else being sliced. It hit the ground, and for a moment Marinette panicked before realizing it was too light to be Poison Ivy.

While crawling, her hand landed on some far-reaching glass from the knocked over vending machine. The pain registered, but Marinette didn’t care about it for long.

“You bastard,” Ivy sounded winded. She had to help, please let her be able to help.

Her eyes landed on a rock, one about the size of papa’s fist. The one in the pot earlier. She picked it up carefully and began tying her purse strap around it. It wouldn’t have as much range as her yoyo, and it would be heavier, but it was better than nothing.

“Afraid you can’t beat me without your little plant?”

She turned, now past the plant and on the side with Joker and Poison Ivy. Her newly-made weapon in hand, she crawled slowly and silently behind Joker. She was still under a large leaf, so Ivy didn’t see her. She could see both their legs and the cut whip at the ground.

“I think you’re underestimating me.”

Marinette could see blood trickling down Ivy’s left leg. She was bleeding much faster than the Joker was. She pushed forward, ending up behind Joker. His legs were within arm’s reach.

“There’s not much to underesti-”

She swung her rock-and-purse-strap yoyo as hard and fast as she could at the Joker’s injured knee. She heard his leg crunch under the force, saw his leg beds an unnatural angle before he fell, heard his scream.

Marinette felt sick.

All she could cause is pain all she can do is hurt she’s useless she can’t save anyone-

“You,” Joker’s words are muffled against the carpet of the hotel lobby. He calls says a word in English she doesn’t know. It rhymed with the English word witch.

“Takes one to know one,” Poison Ivy huffs out.

Then the other window – the one that wasn’t shattered by the plant – shatters. A dark and cloaked figure looks odd standing under the lights of the hotel lobby.

“Poison Ivy,” he paused, just then noticing the Joker.

“I can see I’m not needed anymore,” she turned around, “I was just here to save the kid, no need to arrest me this time.”

The Joker laughed. “You call her a kid?” he asked. “She threw a vending machine at me! Broke my leg! This brat is not a kid, she’s a menace!”

Her breath left her. She’s a menace, a villain, a revolting person…

Marinette looked at her hands. They were bloody.

She barely heard him repeat menace a few times before his breathing evened, likely falling asleep. Poison Ivy made no further comment as she walked out of the miraculously still functioning door. Marinette didn’t hear it close until two pairs of footsteps walked in.

“Batman, why’d you let Ivy walk ou- oh,” a voice she didn’t hear at the manor, Damian’s older brother, spoke. Dick Grayson, his name was.

“Father,” Marinette froze at Damian’s voice. “What is Joker doing here?”

“It appears she was rescuing…” Batman paused, clearly still trying to asses the situation.

Marinette is an idiot. She must be, because she chose that moment to shakily stand up, revealing herself to Batman and Nightwing and Robin.

Robin’s breath hitched.

And that little sound is what made the dam break.

“I’m sorry,” she was spiraling, but she didn’t care anymore. “I’m a hor- horrible person and-”

“Hey now,” Nightwing took a step closer. “I’m sure you’re not-”

She held up her hands, showing the blood on them. Her blood, but that didn’t matter.

“I broke his leg,” she took a big gulp of air. It sounded like a sob. “With a rock. And I threw things at him. A chocolate bar, a cookie, a phone, a lamp, a vending machine-”

“A vending machine?” Batman sounded far away, muffled.

“Miss, please calm down,” Nightwing’s voice was grainy. She wasn’t hearing it fully, she wasn’t there she was away, far away.

“I’m terrible, horrible, I shouldn’t have done this,” all she could hear was her words – were they thoughts? She didn’t know anymore.

She wished she didn’t exist, then she couldn’t make mistakes.

Her vision began to grow spotty. She couldn’t tell what was up and what was down.

“Angel,” Damian’s voice seemed to whisper. “You need to breathe.”

Her lungs ached. She didn’t care though. She didn’t need to breathe. She didn’t matter that much.

The world went dark around her.

Chapter Text

The Unnamed Teenager That Defeated The Riddler Cripples Joker!

Just days after beating The Riddler at his own game, the same teenage girl holds off The Joker until Batman arrives!

“We had to amputate him below the knee,” Arkham doctor says. “There was too much glass in the wound, it cut several muscles, tendons, and arteries. The shattered bone didn’t help.”

French Teenager Unavailable for Comment.

[Read More]

Their trip to Gotham was ending early, all because of her.

Marinette woke up in the hospital. Professor Mendeleiev was there. She apparently fainted due to asphyxiation. She had a cut on her hand, and rugburn on her feet, and had been out for nine hours. The doctor told her it was a miracle she wasn’t more heavily injured after encountering the Joker. Professor Mendeleiev glared at them until they stopped talking about it.

She was discharged soon after. On the way to the hotel, Professor Mendeleiev told her what happened while she was out. The rest of the trip was canceled because of two students being attacked by the Joker, though Marinette’s confrontation with the Riddler hadn’t helped the case. They would be going home that evening. They’re leaving for the flight in two hours – 3:30pm.

“Bruce Wayne graciously paid for our flight back,” Professor Mendeleiev said. Marinette would have felt sick hearing it if she wasn’t so numb from everything.

Her parents had been informed about what happened. She should probably call them soon.

“Your friends tried to visit you in the hospital,” Professor Mendeleiev finished as they pulled up to, the now heavily guarded, hotel. “Unfortunately, only your guardian for the trip was allowed visitation, which is me.”

Her mind instantly went to Damian but- “Friends?”

An almost sad look appeared Professor Mendeleiev’s face, but it was gone so quick Marinette believed it to be imagined. “Yes. The Wayne boy and some classmates. Kim and Alix.”

Her heart lurched to her throat. Kim? Alix? She didn’t think anyone else cared anymore but…

She and Kim had distanced over the years, but when they were younger he was like her brother. She and Alix hadn’t talked much. She didn’t think either of them cared anymore.

She got out of the car. Professor Mendeleiev had brought Marinette some of her other clothes so she wasn’t wearing the bloody crop top and pajama pants. Her t-shirt and jeans were plain enough that she might be able to slide past the others she could see in the lobby.

Marinette hoped.

She walked in, Professor Mendeleiev behind her.

“Marinette!” A huge body slammed into her. Its arms wrapped around her and soon she was spinning.

“Careful, idiot,” she heard Alix say. “Don’t break her!”

The arms set her down and – oh it’s Kim. His eyes were red and puffy. A glance showed that Alix’s eyes were too. Why were they like that?

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said genuinely.

“Me too,” Alix playfully punched her shoulder. “You beat the Joker! You’re bada-”

“Get away from her,” Another voice cut in, sharp. Marinette glanced up to see Alya keeping her distance from them, standing in front of Lila. From what she could see of the Italian, her hair was now in a single much shorter ponytail – or bun? Maybe it was a braid.

Alix crossed her arms in front of her chest. “What if I don’t want to?”

“You heard what Lila said,” Alya’s voice was angry. Marinette was numb to it. “She-”

“Alya,” Professor Mendeleiev chose that moment to step in. “I don’t care what Lila has been telling you, but stop yelling at her and her friends.”

Marinette jolted at the word. Friends.

“She needs to go to her room and pack for the flight back to Paris tonight anyway. Allow her to leave.”

Her class, most of them surrounding Lila, stared in stunned silence.

After a moment, Marinette went to the Elevator. She was given a new room key during the drive to the hotel.

She felt like the hallway security police were staring at her as she walked to her room.

They thought she was a freak. Everyone did.

When Marinette entered her room, she was immediately hit in the face.

“Marinette!” Tikki whispered, knowing there were others outside her door. “I’m so sorry, I should have gone with you I-”

“It’s okay Tikki,” Marinette was still numb, but it was better than dissociating. It was better than crying.

“No,” Tikki’s eyes were filled with shining tears. “It’s not.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t alright.

Instead of answering, she focused on her room again. She still remembered everything from the other night, but this would be her last time seeing it.

The sheets are scratchy, she remembered. The fabric was still clearly cheap.

The bed was stiff. She knew it was hard sleeping on it, but it was hard sleeping anyway for her.

Her entire hotel room was bland. A mess of off-white and white. It was bright, and it needed more color. More design to it.

She could see the creepy painting of two children in a bucket on the wall from the door. It was black and white except for the blue color of their shirts. Their eyes were still wide, but they seemed to stare at her now. Maybe they thought she was a freak too.

The familiar surroundings made it easy to spot the not-so-familiar changes she made. Her sketchbook was brightly colored, closed on her desk. Her dirty clothes were on the floor in the corner. The entire room was a mess of cut fabric and cardboard from the previous hours she spent designing and making-

The Thing.

She’d taken to calling it The Thing. She felt that if she acknowledged what it was, even in her own mind, she would break. She would break and someone would have to pick up the shattered pieces.

She cleaned up the mess. The few scraps of fabric left weren’t enough to make a design out of so she threw them away.

Marinette repacked her suitcase and backpack, making sure to account for absolutely everything. She checked once, twice. Tikki checked. Then she checked again. The only things she hadn’t packed were her phone and her sketchbook, both of which currently laid on her bed.

She still had an hour before they left to go to the airport.

The Thing was still hanging in her hotel room’s closet. It was small and cramped with only two hangers, a small shelf, and no door. She had shoved The Thing to the very back so she couldn’t see it unless she stood directly in front of the closet.

She went there now. She was staring at it.

She didn’t break, but she could feel cracks. Chips and pieces of herself fell to the ground.

Marinette’s hands shook as she took it from the closet.

She glanced at her sketchbook.

“Hi Maman, Papa,” Marinette greeted her parents.

After she finished with her little project, Tikki convinced her to call her parents. Though, she didn’t need that much convincing. It was a long flight, and she wouldn’t be able to call or message them while on it.

She still had fifty minutes left until she needed to go to the lobby.

“Marinette!” Her papa’s eyes were red and puffy too. Maman was still crying. “My little girl! Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” her voice sounded wobbly and wrong. “I wasn’t even heavily injured.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Maman’s eyes had a fire in them. Marinette wished she still had hers. “I’m just glad you’re coming home soon.”

“We’re going to wrap you in bubble wrap,” her Papa’s voice was also wobbly. “So this can’t ever happen to our baby girl again.”

Marinette tried to imagine that, for a moment. Ladybug fighting akuma while wearing bubble wrap armor.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I know it was scary-”

“Understatement of the year!” her Maman grumbled.

“But I lived!”

“Yes, you did,” Her Papa’s voice was still wobbly, but proud too. Marinette felt her heart lurch to her throat again.

She hated it when people were worried about her.

“You not only lived,” her mother wiped her eyes, “But Marinette, they had to cut off one of his legs-”

What?

“He’ll be down for the count until he can properly use his prosthetic!”

She what?

“You may have saved more people, doing that-”

She… she did that…

She permanently and irreversibly damaged someone beyond repair.

“They even did a news article about it! My baby girl, making Gotham’s news!”

The entirety of Gotham knew she hurt the Joker. Hurt him so bad he didn’t have all of his body left.

“She’s anonymous in it though, Tom.”

No wonder the security guards were staring at her.

“Even better! We know who she is but others don’t! I’m even more proud.”

She wasn’t just a freak.

“You would be, darling.”

She was a monster.

“Marinette?” Tikki whispered.

“Honey?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she tried to sound normal. Look normal. Hide her claws and flaws.

She’s a monster.

“I’ve got to finish getting ready,” she lied. It was heavy on her tongue but she didn’t care. Guilt was heavy, too heavy, but she didn’t care anymore.

“Thank you for calling us!”

“Try not to look for anymore villains!”

“I won’t,” That, she could answer honestly. “Goodbye, Maman, Papa.”

“I swear you’re her favori-” her father’s grumblings were cut off as Marinette hung up the call.

“Marinette?” Tikki tried again.

Marinette stared at her hands. She couldn’t see the blood, it wasn’t there anymore, but she could still picture it there. Blood that she caused.

She was a horrible person. Her actions were inexcusable. Monstrous.

Guilt was crushing her. It weighed on her shoulders and tongue, pushing her down and down. She waited for it to squish her like a bug. She hoped it would squish her like the bug she is.

Someone knocked on her door.

Marinette was numb. Like a zombie, she got up to open it. She already knew who it was.

Damian’s hair was messy. He wore a gray hoodie. She suspected he had the hood up until recently to try and conceal his identity as Damian Wayne.

She remembered how as Robin, when she punched The Riddler, he had been messy then too. Now she knew why – he had rushed to change into costume to help.

The memory hit her hard. She could see both of them standing there – Damian and Robin.

She looked at him. She didn’t break. It was a close thing.

His eyes weren’t red or puffy. His hands were stuffed in his pockets.

He looked normal.

Marinette wondered how much makeup he wore to hide his lack of sleep from being a superhero. She didn’t have hers on right now.

“Angel,” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Are you… okay?”

She managed to smile. It was fake. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she tried to joke.

It fell flat.

Without another word, she stepped back and opened the door wider for him. He walked in, pausing on the creepy painting.

“I know,” she mumbled. “It’s weird.”

He huffed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he says, and Marinette understands.

She knows he isn’t apologizing as Damian. He’s apologizing as Robin. She can remember doing this when she had friends who got hurt. ‘I’m sorry, I should have been there.’ She knows what the meaning is beyond the words he actually says.

She knows he’s apologizing to a monster.

“You didn’t have to be,” she says, speaking to Damian. “I would have been too worried about you to… to…”

The words die in her throat but she knew what they were. To hurt the Joker. To damage him beyond repair.

“I was still,” he seemed to fight with his words too, “worried.” He spits it like a curse, like he hates saying it. Like he hates her.

Marinette could understand that. She hated having to be worried about Lila last night.

She ignored the hurt.

“You don’t have to be,” she mumbles, going over to the desk so she can sit.

“Are you fully packed?” he changed the subject.

“Yeah,” she sat at her desk. Her sketchbook, missing a few pages, was on it. Her phone was in her pocket. The rest of her suitcase and backpack were gathered by the foot of her bed.

The clock on the bedside table had a bright red glow. It was one of those electric ones.

She had forty-five minutes left.

The conversation lulled.

“I’m a bad friend.”

She ignored the pain.

“What?” Damian jerked. “What makes you say that? Why would you say that? There’s no reason for you to think that, Ange- Marinette.”

She tried not to flinch.

“There is,” she said slowly. “I don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t have to suffer a friendship with me.”

“What? Angel-”

“I’m a horrible person, and you shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

“What are you saying?” His eyes were wide, almost frantic. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m not supposed to,” she could feel a tear slide down her cheek. “You… you’ll understand soon.”

Damian looked lost. “Angel-”

“I’m not an angel,” she got up, heading to the closet. “I don’t deserve that name.”

“Please, you’re not making any sense,” she paused outside of the closet. Why did he sound so hurt? He had to hate her.

She was a monster, and monsters deserved to be hated.

“I’m an awful person, a horrible friend,” she whispered. “I’m protecting you from me.”

“I don’t need prote-”

In one quick move, she grabbed a shoddy sketchbook paper-wrapped rectangle and threw it at the bed next to him.

“That’s yours,” her voice was wobbling. Tears were falling off her face and onto her shirt. “Open it when I leave, then you’ll understand why I can’t be your friend anymore.”

This was the most expressive she’s ever seen Damian. His face seemed to fall, and he picked it up carefully.

“You don’t want to… to be my friend?” he whispered. His eyes were shiny, and he sounded like he was about to cry. It was probably from relief.

She was a monster, and monsters didn’t deserve happiness.

 “I don’t deserve to,” Marinette corrected.

She betrayed his trust. She went behind his back and discovered something about him that she wouldn’t ever be able to forget – not in this universe.

He didn’t deserve someone like that. He wasn’t a monster like she was, and deserved someone better to be his friend and to comfort him and-

 “I need to call my parents,” she lied again. She loathed liars and now she was one. But that was okay.

She was a monster, and monsters deserved to be loathed.

If anything, Damian looked even more hurt. He didn’t say anything though, simply taking the package and walking out the door.

He didn’t slam it. He closed it with a soft click.

“Marinette,” Tikki sounded horrified. “What did you do?”

“He-he deserved better,” Marinette sobbed. “He doesn’t-doesn’t deserve… He doesn’t deserve…”

She broke down into sobs then. Ugly, horrible sobs that her hotel room pillow didn’t fully muffle.

“You can still fix this!” Tikki cried. “You can call him, you have his number, or-”

Marinette shook her head. She couldn’t.

She was a monster, and monsters didn’t deserve to love.

Oh.

Oh no.

She loved him.

She…

She was in love with Damian.

Marinette’s tears started fresh. She was in love with Damian. She couldn’t pinpoint a when, but she was…

It felt soothing, for a moment. It was not as obsessive as her crush on Adrien was, but something calmer. It flowed like a stream, natural.

But now, the stream was boiling. It hurt to breathe, to move, to think, because she loved Damian.

And she didn’t deserve him.

She now felt all of the hurt, the pain, everything she had been ignoring, full force.

It was mint it was chains it was tight throats and burning lungs and sobs.

It was painful.

Five minutes until they leave the hotel for the airport. Marinette had her backpack on her back, her suitcase in hand, and her sketchbook under her arm. Her phone was in her pocket and Tikki was in her backpack.

When she arrived at the lobby, everyone was waiting in groups. She saw several red and puffy eyes, none as worse as Lila Rossi.

Oddly enough, she sat alone.

Kim was the first to see her. He was pacing and looked up when he heard her quiet footsteps. “Mari,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

What?

“What?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t wobbly, but it cracked.

“I’m sorry too,” Alix piped up. “We may have gotten suspicious toward the end, but we still believed Lila for years. I’m sorry.”

What?

They… didn’t believe Lila?

Other classmates began to step forward, shame-faced. Rose was still crying. Juleka’s hair hid one eye, but the other was still shining as well.

“Marinette, I’m so sorry,” the small blonde cried. “Lila, she did that, and-and you’re you and you don’t deserve it and-”

“What?” she was still confused. What… what happened? Why were they…

“Damian Wayne was here earlier,” Alix stepped in. “He called Lila out on her bullsh-”

“Alix!” Ms. Buistier cried.

“He called you out too, you know,” Alix snapped back immediately. “And don’t think I’m not going to bring up all the points he argued about you to the school board.”

Ms. Bustier paled considerably. Marinette was worried she’d faint.

“The point is, he called Lila out for all the lies she told,” Kim frowned. “Well, the ones he knew of. The rest of us filled in the blanks for him.”

“It helped when the police showed us the security footage of last night,” Juleka mumbled. “Alya couldn’t argue with facts.”

Alya, also sitting alone, flinched.

“You don’t have to forgive any of us,” Rose was still crying. “We don’t deserve it. But I- I still wanted to apologize.”

“Same,” Alix grumbled. Kim nodded.

Marinette was still confused.

She was a monster, and monsters deserved to be detested.

But they didn’t detest her.

At least, not anymore.

Professor Mendeleiev clapped her hands to get the class’ attention. Everyone began to file into the bus to go to the airport.

The security officer policeman nodded to her on her way out. Marinette wished they hadn’t seen her.

On the bus, she still sat alone. She knew they wanted to give her space, but Marinette didn’t care.

Her phone was in her hand. She opened up her and Damian’s text chat. She was going to delete all the messages. She had to delete them. She had to…

She didn’t want to. These were the only proof she had that their friendship existed.

She found herself rereading messages on the way to the airport. She’d never find a nickname for him in the chat, she realized. Her endeavor failed.

But Marinette already felt terrible, so what was a little more scorn? After all, she betrayed her best and only friend. She betrayed him. She ended their friendship because he deserved better. She made sure he hated her. And she couldn’t even delete her only reminder of the whole thing. She was pathetic.

She didn’t break.

She wished she did.