One: After Effects

Author's Note: After watching Puppeteer 2 recently, I discovered I had the perfect vehicle for a third take on my What Came Before He Knew Her series – a chance, really, for me to delve deeply into what makes Chat such a complicated character, and how that affects his ability (as Chat or Adrien) to have people in his life that he truly cares about. And I won't lie: it also gives me a marvelous excuse for a new MariChat storyline.

Fair warning: this is a bit of an experimental piece for me. Unlike my other carefully plotted out stories, I only have a general sense of where I want to go and how to get to that destination. So, as a character once said in a classic movie Chat might recommend, you might want to buckle up – it could be an interesting ride.

This story picks up quite literally after the events of the episode Puppeteer 2, so if you've not seen the third season of Miraculous, there are minor spoilers involved in the telling of this tale. You've been warned.

As always, I have no ownership of Miraculous other than the joy in writing these characters.

I watched, slightly stunned, as Marinette slammed the door shut to the sedan.

The conversation we'd had once we were finally alone had felt as though I'd restored the equilibrium of our friendship; I'd been afraid that my misguided attempts to prove myself to her at the Grevin had irrevocably damaged our relationship. Having an unscheduled akuma in the mix hadn't helped matters, but I'd seen that smile I knew so well a fraction of a moment before I appeared to have once again crashed and burned.

As the sedan pulled away from the Bakery, I kept my eyes planted on her diminutive form as she slowly walked to the door of the shop. Her slumped shoulders and sluggish movements painted a very different picture of my success. Somehow, I had messed up.

I leaned my head back against the seat and let out a long sigh. There was no question I was really, really bad at this whole "friend" thing. My attempt to hang on to one of my closest appeared to have instead increased the distance between us. What had I said that had taken her from that glorious smile to not being able to look at me when she exited the sedan?

Closing my eyes, I let the white noise of the sedan moving through the city wash over me as I contemplated the remains of the day. I'd thought we were friends. Were we still friends? I replayed the conversation over and over again in my head, but came no closer to an answer by the time the sedan slowed to a stop at the mansion.

Somewhat morosely, I unbuckled and exited, traipsing up the marble steps toward Nathalie and my never-ending schedule. She said something to me as I passed by and I nodded automatically as I continued up the steps to my room where I threw myself on the bed. "Plagg, what did I do?" I asked, my voice muffled slightly by the pillow I'd buried myself in. "I think I messed things up worse than they were before we left for the museum!"

I felt my kwami hovering next to me. "Girls are hard to fathom," he said sagely. "Some more than others."

I turned my head slightly and cracked an eye at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Plagg had that Cheshire grin that I knew meant he was holding back something. "Look, kid, you have to admit that little stunt as a statue was ill-timed and misguided. Not only did you embarrass Marinette, you came across as a total-"

"That part I know," I said, cutting him off. "I thought my apology in the sedan and explanation had at least taken the sting out of it." I turned my head back to the pillow. Some of what Marinette had said to me while I was attempting to pretend to be a statue had been quite endearing, actually. She'd laughed it off later, of course, but if even a tiny part of what she had said was true, I had underestimated her feelings for me. Greatly.

"But she said she was joking," I said to Plagg. "Like I was," I added as I turned back to my kwami.

"Were you? Joking?"

"Not about the value of her friendship to me."

"She nearly kissed you," he reminded me. "Call me crazy, but I think that's significant, kid."

"She thought she was kissing a statue, Plagg," I snapped.

"From where I'm floating, the way you've been treating her doesn't seem all that different."

That made me twist around to face Plagg. "I'm not a statue around her!" I said defensively.

"Aren't you?" Plagg narrowed his eyes, and nearly looked exasperated. "Given how oblivious you are to her feelings toward you, you might as well be made of wax."

For the second time that afternoon, I felt like someone had socked me in the stomach. "I'm her friend…" I said, but it was more tentative than I'd intended. "I do tons of stuff with her. I talk to her all the time."

Plagg actually rolled his eyes at me. "Of course. That totally means you're her friend. My apologies." He turned and whisked away toward his stash of camembert, leaving me staring into the space he'd occupied.

Was Plagg right? I had so few friends, maybe my definition of what constituted one was flawed – as well as my own responsibilities along those lines. I had to admit, despite having had the best tutors Father could afford, being cooped up in the mansion with little to no contact with the outside world had not prepared me for the social realities of school.

As I stood and wandered aimlessly toward my couch, I realized I had at least one strike against me. My background as the son of a fashion scion put me into a different strata, one that I was trying hard to break out of. Looking around my room, I realized my personal life wasn't terribly relatable to anyone; for the first time, I found myself truly wondering how others saw me.

My eyes flicked down to the ring on my hand. Chat Noir had become my way of escaping from the confines of being Adrien. He allowed me to be the person I wanted to be, saying and doing things Father would never have allowed; helping people in a way that was not possible as Adrien. I'd even created what I thought was a deep friendship with Ladybug, but given my afternoon, I found myself questioning even that.

What would I do as Chat? I wondered, fussing with the ring as I continued to wander my bedroom. I'd be direct. I'd ask what I'd said to Marinette that had soured her on me.

I smiled a Chat-smile. That was the way I'd handle it, but mostly because I would literally be hiding behind the mask, emboldened by the idea that she wouldn't know who she was talking to.

Or who had hurt her.

The smile widened. If Adrien couldn't get to the bottom of this, perhaps Chat could. My eyes flicked to the open window and the late afternoon sunshine slanting through it. As much as I wanted to sail out into the Parisian sky, I knew I'd be expected at dinner within the hour. Odds were good that it would be a lonely one again, so I vowed to bolt my food as quickly as possible.

Father didn't make an appearance in the dining room, just as I'd expected, and for once, Nathalie didn't stand guard over me, either. It was gourmet as always but, as always, never felt like enough given the calories I burned as Chat Noir. I had a particular body image that needed to be maintained and I couldn't blame Chef for only following Father's instructions.

Slipping extra camembert into my pocket from the cheese and fruit plate on the buffet, I nonchalantly headed back toward the bedroom and had barely closed the door before calling for my transformation. Plagg had started to say something but it was lost in his transfer to the ring. And to be honest, I was no longer in the mood for his less-than-helpful advice.

Grabbing my baton from the small of my back, I bounded through the window and vaulted off the fence ringing the mansion, springing into a helicopter with the baton to reach the first rooftop. From there I ran, leapt and pole vaulted my way across Paris to the building opposite the Bakery, where I dropped down into a cat-crouch on the slanted tile.

As Chat, I had been to the bakery a number of times but only a handful of them were social. My most recent visit had resulted in her father becoming a rather possessive akumatized werewolf, yet one more indicator that I didn't have this whole social thing down with either persona. If I'd learned anything, it was I needed to be more thoughtful in my interactions with Marinette.

A lesson, it appeared, I had forgotten that very afternoon.

The sun's angle had begun to give the rooftop patio she frequented a bit of a warm glow; the space evoked a cozy sense of home diametrically opposed to my sterile mansion existence. The happy party lights Marinette had strung across the space were already on, and the skylight was open; I couldn't see here, but that felt like a good sign she was in.

I took a deep breath. Despite the bravado I normally felt as Chat, I was starting to feel like this was a bad idea. Before I lost my nerve, though, I leapt into movement and swiftly ran across the connecting rooftops in a wide circle that took me just behind the brick wall to her patio. One more leap and I was perched atop a chimney exuding fabulous scents of cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

Closing my masked feline eyes, I imagined myself in the kitchen below, happily sitting and watching Tom working his craft and maybe helping here and there. It was one of many fantasies I had about what real families might be like; despite just the short amount of time I'd spent with Marinette, Nino and Alya, I had come to realize my home life was the definition of atypical. But I so few clues as to what was actually normal.

"Chat?" I heard from below me.

My eyes snapped open, and I flushed slightly with embarrassment. I'd been so lost in what my feline sense of smell had picked up, I'd not heard her return to the rooftop. "Hi," I said simply. "Has anyone ever told you how divine the smells from this chimney are?"

A half smile appeared on Marinette's face. "No," she said. "Then again, most of my visitors don't sit there, either."

"They should," I said, smiling widely. "It emphasizes what a baker your father is."

"I'll pass that along," she said, somewhat bemused. "What brings you to my… chimney… this afternoon?"

"May I?" I asked formally, tilting my mane at the patio. At her nod, I leapt to a railing near where she was standing and balanced on it. I'd spent the afternoon trying to decide how best to broach the conversation; it was now or never.

"I was in the area," I started, "and I thought I'd stop by to see if there were any after effects from the akuma at the Grevin." I paused, my emerald eyes searching her deep blue ones. "How are you doing?"

Marinette looked away, and I had my answer. "Fine," she said.

The Adrien part of me shrank just a little bit. I dropped off the railing and came around to her, then put a claw tip gently to her chin. "Cats have an intrinsic sense, Princess," I said, unsure of when I had started to use that particular appellation with Marinette. "We are drawn to people who are hurting."

"Really," she said softly, still looking at her shoes.

"Absolutely." I paused, hoping she couldn't hear my heart racing while I struggled to keep my cool Chat composure. "It might help if you talk about it. I know it helped me."

Her eyes finally looked up at me. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Chat," she said, "and I have to admit, you're the last person I'd have expected to lend me an ear."

I tried to ignore the implication. "I have some spares," I joked, twitching one of my feline ears as emphasis. "But it shouldn't surprise you," I added. "It's one of my core purposes as Chat: make people feel better."

The shadow of a smile appeared again. "Is it now?"

"Yes," I said, smiling warmly.

"Thanks," she said, "but truly, I am fine. Or I will be."

I found myself frowning. "You might be able to fool most people with that," I said, looking at her carefully, "but it's pawlain to me you are anything but." I stepped back physically, intentionally emphasizing my next point: "I'm here if you want to talk, but I understand if you don't." I waited a heartbeat to push my luck slightly. "You've been a good friend to me; I want to return the favor, if I can."

She continued to look away. "That's thoughtful of you, Chat," she said.

I pulled out my baton. "What's your phone number, Marinette?" I asked, though my alter ego had it on speed dial.

Her head shot up. "Why?"

"I'm going to text you my super-secret Chat Hotline number. If you change your mind, you'll know how to reach me." I smiled. "Of course, as much as I would like it to be the case, I'm not Chat all the time, so there might be a slight delay in my returning your call…"

That made her laugh. "Now that I can believe." She paused and then gave me her number; I quickly tapped out a text message and sent it to her, then added her to my contact list on the Cat Phone.

"When I say any time, Purrincess, I mean it," I said as I leapt to the railing again. It was clear I'd made as much progress as I could that evening and didn't want to push my luck.

"Thanks," she said, and it sounded genuine to my feline ears.

I leapt away into the gathering darkness, wondering if she would ever actually call me.

Over the course of the next few days, I slipped away from my classmates as often as I could get away with it in order to check my Cat Phone; most evenings I spent sitting on my bedroom floor as Chat, one feline ear attuned to unexpected visitors and the other waiting for the baton to ring. Had anyone peeked in on my activities, they would have assumed I had become a lovestruck cat, hanging on the next move of my beloved. Too bad it wasn't true.

By Friday evening, I'd decided my overtures had been politely declined. I'd turned out all the lights in the bedroom to watch the night descend through my open window; on a whim, I put the baton away at the small of my back and leapt to the windowsill and simply perched. I had no reason to go out, yet out I went, prowling the evening skies over Paris all the while trying to decide if I had gone two-for-two with Marinette.

Clearly my reputation as a catsanova was undeserved.

Well past midnight, I landed atop an antenna aerial and perched facing the Eiffel Tower. The lights were on and made it seem more romantic than normal; just what I didn't need to see, of course. We'd gone almost a week without an akuma, which meant it had been that long and then some since I'd seen Ladybug; with no way to contact her, and no reason to meet up, I was feeling a bit alone – especially given how Marinette had continued to give me something of a cold shoulder. I was pretty certain she was still coming to terms with whatever I had done. I tried to engage her in tiny ways, but she rebuffed me completely – even going so far as to sit on the far side of the library with Alya instead of her normal spot next to me and Nino.

"Paris," I said to the Tower. "A city for love? Not so much," I sighed.

I waited a moment more and then made to leap back into the air. At that moment, my baton buzzed; I already had it in my hand, so I snapped it open. There on the tiny screen of the Cat Phone was a text message:

Marinette: Chat, if you are still willing, I could really use that feline ear of yours now.

Chat: Of course, Purrincess. I'm on my way.

Marinette: Thanks, kitty.

I snapped the baton shut and leapt toward my friend.