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It's a morning like any other as Adrien showers, dresses, and heads downstairs to have breakfast with his mother.
Unsurprisingly, his father has already eaten with her—quickly—and disappeared off to work. Emilie spends a significant portion of the meal feeding Adrien indelicate reminders about his private tutoring. He hasn't been meeting their expectations, but what else is new? It's a similarly uneventful car ride over to the school where Adrien has fencing practice. After so many years of private lessons, it's taken an enormous amount of convincing in order to be allowed even this off-site time with other kids his own age. Eventually he won his mother over. Eventually she convinced his father. Now he's here.
The kids who attend the school have almost all left following the final period, now gone off to do whatever kids with more freedom do.
As he ascends the school steps, another student exits—a girl with dark hair in pigtails. She's hastily trying to cram something in her bag, and not watching her step, when the heel of her foot slips off a stair. Seeing the inevitable unfold in slow motion, Adrien lurches forward to catch her before she can crash to the concrete.
His eyes catch hers as his hands catch her and it's like the whole universe goes absolutely apeshit.
The only basis for comparison Adrien can draw from was the time, years ago, when their old driver had accidentally backed up into him with the car. He was generally fine, and the driver viciously fired, but Adrien couldn't get over the feeling of his then-tiny frame being jostled, so hard and so abruptly. It's that but worse.
The closest Marinette can compare it to is like tripping down the stairs, over and over, a thousand stairs per second with the bottom never arriving. Until it does.
They're caught in a whirlwind.
Something like a lifetime of memories—someone else's memories—crash through their brains. Other places, other people, the sensation of flying and floating and falling and being wiped out of existence only to come roaring back. They're wearing masks and then they aren't and then a thousand tears aren't enough to drown out the sound of one of them screaming in agony. She feels the blood drip down her ears and he feels the phantom pain of a hand once lopped off and now returned.
Adrien crumples over on the school steps and vomits.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" Marinette asks, with barely enough breath to call her own.
Adrien is not at all okay.
She collapses down onto the stair above him, legs aching from the jagged impact in a way she knows will bruise, but she's compelled to help. He knows nothing is as important as looking up at her, seeing beyond the grave, or life itself, because he's already there and he's never met her until now.
The words don't even make sense to him but he needs to free them.
"My lady?"
She drags the wretched boy into the bakery and into her home and grabs a bottle of water which he downs in six seconds. Going from nothing to learning about Ladybug and Chat Noir and that they were Ladybug and Chat Noir and that Ladybug and Chat Noir knew each other and that Ladybug and Chat Noir had failed... is a lot in only six seconds.
It's frankly absurd to her that this day could have been otherwise so normal. Her parents were still working in the bakery, she made decent progress helping another student in the arts room, and she was prepared to ignore her homework for a good several hours. Now all of that has been tossed aside, revealed as a sham, an aberration from the rightful flow of time.
Talk time.
"I remember stuff," she says simply.
"I remember stuff too."
They're not sure they should be recalling as much as they are, but memories slowly seep in like a faucet that wasn't closed all the way. Like their knowledge of each other is a glass of water, slowly filling up after someone carelessly dumped it all out.
"He used the wish," Marinette says slowly. "None of this is right."
He breathes a sigh of relief. As far as he can tell, her world isn't greatly affected by this. She could ignore it all, move on, continue on the path she wants to carve for herself. He could too, were it not for this. But they're both conscious of the fact that this is about more than just the two of them. This is about responsibilities that were assigned by others but embraced by themselves, and now felt like second nature. After everything they'd been through, everything they'd sacrificed with and for each other, turning their back on it would be selfish.
But… they're on the same page, both aware and terrified of diving into specifics. They were never really good at verbal communication, were they?
"He used it to bring back my mom," he says, and she nods. She remembers the glass coffin. It was clear even then how much was rushing beneath the surface of a war they only saw their side of. "My memories only go up to when I lost… Plagg." He skips over the word ‘hand.'
"You passed out from blood loss shortly after that," Marinette tells him, as gentle as cashmere. "I watched that bastard steal you from me. I didn't know someone could love you so little. I didn't know it was possible to hate someone that hard."
More than she'd already hated him when, cane-sword to her throat, he'd ripped her earrings off. Adrien wonders if that was the moment that did them in—when his overwhelming shock at seeing her was just enough to distract him at the worst moment. It probably was. He thinks she should never forgive him for it, but he knows that she doesn't even know that's what happened.
"I froze when I saw you," he says suddenly, despondently, and wanting to make sure she knew of his failure. "I thought it might be you once and then never again. I was too shocked to react in time when he tossed you aside and…"
"It's okay," she says, and it's agonizing that he thinks she means it. "I was surprised too."
There's something unsettling about knowing someone she doesn't know, but she has no choice but to lean into it, hard. They've never met before, but she has all the memories of his kindness and loyalty. She briefly considers erecting defenses in case this time around he's too different, but she can tell, innately, that he isn't.
"I loved you, you know," she says. He stares dumbly. "I loved Adrien even before I loved Chat Noir."
"That's really unfortunate," he says. He feels embarrassed that he never considered his classmate as closely as he had Ladybug. He liked her, just not as much. He would have loved her just as much if he'd known.
"It's the most fortunate thing in this universe," Marinette assures him. "It has its advantages right now."
He realizes what she's saying, but feels too much residual sickness to do anything about it. He considers how horrific things might be if he were alone. If he was the only one he knew. If the insane coincidence that caused her to be someone in such narrow proximity to his already narrow life… wasn't. Maybe he'd have just continued on in ignorance. It sounds kind of nice, actually. But…
They have each other.
And God's honest truth, that's the only thing that matters right now.
"I love you," he tells her honestly.
"Good," she says. "I don't think I could stand to be lost in this new world without you or your love."
The fact that Adrien has earned Ladybug's love and she's so graciously receptive of Chat Noir's is a minor miracle in all this.
"But what do we do about… my father?"
Can a man be charged for crimes he hasn't committed in this universe?
Probably not.
"I don't think we can do anything."
The admission feels like a death sentence.
They presume he has the Miraculouses, but Adrien isn't sure where they could be. Something tells him they're not just stashed in a sock drawer. Turning the house inside out to find them isn't an option.
They consider simply killing him. Adrien thinks it could be easy. Even if the man is drastically taller and physically imposing, there are myriad ways they could pull it off. In the end, though, neither have the stomach to seriously consider it.
Adrien isn't enough like his father.
Adrien takes out the cell phone he only ever needs for contacting Gorilla in an emergency and adds Marinette's number. She adds his number to her own phone. They both consider it an essential tether. To each other. To the past. To their sanity.
They're going to text basically non-stop whenever they're apart for the rest of their lives.
Marinette sees her parents and cries because they're exactly the same and she almost wishes they weren't.
Adrien next sees his father, unexpectedly, after fencing. Gabriel doesn't comment on Adrien's absence, though the instructor must surely have reported him. He eyes Adrien carefully, almost warily, before reverting to disinterest. Adrien does everything in his power to not tackle this man he hates and loves and beat him to death with his weak, 14 year old hands.
From his bedroom, he thinks about all the times he's escaped out through the huge windows. The far fewer times he's landed gracefully on Marinette's balcony. He can't do the latter anymore without the suit. He can't do the former anymore because there's bars on the windows now.
School for Marinette is disorienting. Alya is her friend but Marinette has more memories with her than this reality's short friendship has provided. Nino's an acquaintance that she was more friendly with when they were younger. Like trying to recreate a lego building from memory, Marinette tries to reassemble her friend group. Striking up conversations with Nino is easy when she already knows him. Bringing Nino and Alya closer is easy when she already knows them. She doesn't consider it matchmaking. She's just setting things right.
Adrien begins trying to convince his parents to let him attend public school. He swears his father knows why.
For the next several days, Adrien shows up for fencing early and Marinette's there waiting. When he finishes fencing, she's there waiting. They steal a few minutes each day to talk, to reassure each other. One day, Adrien fakes twisting his ankle as an excuse to sit out the last 30 minutes. Conspiratorially, Marinette brings along Alya and Nino to introduce them. His friendship with them is over a month behind schedule.
The overwhelming familiarity is almost enough to make Adrien break down, but that would be a little much for first introductions. The friendships—all the pairings between them—are so much less than he's used to. Starting from scratch is painful, especially limited as it is, but it's so much better than nothing.
It takes over two months, but Adrien eventually convinces his parents to let him attend public school with Marinette. Not that he has ever said a word to them about Marinette. He honestly never thought it would happen. They don't know how much Gabriel remembers, or whether he's still suspicious of Marinette and Adrien for being heroes. Maybe time has buried those suspicions. It apparently doesn't matter.
Coming to class feels like stepping back through time. The familiarity crashes against the novelty. Like with Alya and Nino, making friends with everyone is a thousand times easier because he's already done it. The only trip-up is brushing aside the ghosts of inside jokes that he can't deploy on people. Seeing Marinette every day for hours and hours is the most wonderful thing in the world, and he's furious that he didn't appreciate it more the first time around. The very first day he crashes into her with an embrace that's like something out of a movie. Everyone seems a little surprised at their instant, easy camaraderie and close friendship.
"Have you met before?" someone questions, and they just laugh.
"Are you dating?" basically everyone asks.
They realize they never actually talked about it. She lived a life angling for this boy without realizing she already had him, and this time she has him without any of the work, somehow. It's cruelly delightful. They don't even look at each other before responding "yes" simultaneously.
They take on the reputation of a low-key, basically-married couple. Marinette is consumed by floods of memories of pep talks from Alya's, failed get-together plans with the girls, and weeks, months of pining. Without that, her crush never takes on the tenor of dreamy destiny among her friends, the worst kept secret of their school. Instead, they just are. She kind of misses it, but it's foolish; she doesn't need notoriety when she has him.
Marinette stops wearing pigtails and never does again. He misses them, but this is important for her. She gives him the red bands and he always wears them around his wrist.
For Adrien's birthday, she makes him a sky blue scarf and bakes him a birthday cake. Dark chocolate with lime green icing.
"I love you," she says. "Make a wish."
He does.
For her birthday, he makes her the lucky charm bracelet again, as close to the original as he can recall. If some things are different, others should be the way they belong. He berates himself for not being sure he remembers it perfectly, but she cries and tells him he got it exactly right, because she does remember it perfectly.
To them, the world still feels wrong. 20 degrees offset from where everything is supposed to be. They can look at things, see how they are, see what they were, and never fully reconcile the difference, no matter how hard they try. Their only source of comfort is in each other, clinging to the only other person they know that sees the world for what it is. Their deepest hope is that, with time, they will adapt and come to accept this new reality.
Along the way there are days that, despite being unremarkable, they recall for the akumas they would have contained. Chloe humiliates Kim. Alix never has a watch to lose. Marinette's certain Kagami beats Adrien at fencing. And life goes on.
Marinette's parents are amused that their daughter regularly has a boy over, but she handles their teasing calmy. One time, taking a break from video games, she explains how flustered it would have made her in the past. Before he can fully question why, she kisses him. She enjoys it. They both do. But it's also another reminder that this is all incorrect. They resolve to continue until they get used to it.
When they turn 16, and this problem with the world—the world's problem, not theirs—isn't improving, she proposes therapy. Adrien readily agrees. Marinette gets her parents to agree as well, explaining that she feels stressed and unhappy, and maybe talking to someone would help. Her parents are supportive and promise to pay, while Marinette promises to make all the arrangements. Instead of going once a week, she goes every two weeks. Adrien goes on the other weeks.
They're obviously limited by what they can talk about, but feelings of anxiety, depression, and a lack of belonging and agency and power to change things aren't so unusual for teens to admit to. They almost wish they could go together, to some couple's therapy where they can discuss everything but their couplehood. Instead, they make do with filling each other in on all the details from each session.
They used to have trouble verbally communicating, and now they're prepared to overshare everything they're thinking and feeling until it annoys the other person. It never will.
It helps tremendously, and they grow even closer, even though they didn't imagine that was possible.
They get married the day she turns 18. They consider having Alya and Nino there, but decide against it. With state-provided witnesses, everything is said and signed in mere minutes. It's not at all what she imagined or wanted as a child, but it's everything she needs at that moment. More than anything, he's just overjoyed to be there, by her side, where he belongs.
She slips the ring on his finger and sheds a tear because it's all alone.
Nino and Alya are confused but roll with it, knowing Adrien and Marinette love each other but not quite understanding why they felt they needed to do this so quickly and so unspectacularly. Marinette's parents are generally supportive when they tell them after the fact. Adrien's parents, they don't tell at all.
Their "honeymoon" is just to get the hell out of Paris. They're not needed there. They drive around Europe, taking in the south of France, the Italian riviera, Vienna, Prague. They have no schedule or destination in mind, just seeing things and enjoying each other's company, even when cramped in a tiny rental car. The car breaks down in Vienna. Marinette breaks down in Prague. They get as far as Warsaw before deciding to turn back.
"Do you miss sitting atop the Eiffel Tower?" she asks one night, his arms wrapped around her, as they recover from a day spent lost in Germany.
"Every day of my life," he responds.
Something about Paris still calls to them, despite everything.
Upon returning, they move into a small apartment. Marinette's parents are sad to see her leave, but ultimately support their daughter's independence. They do so against Gabriel's wishes. Once again, Adrien's mother is essential for talking Gabriel into going along with it. Gabriel, for his part, treats it as youthful rebellion. Adrien will get over her, they'll break up, and he can move back in where he belongs. They're all but certain Gabriel knows and remembers who they were, but without their powers he considers them harmless. They are harmless.
Their new home is on the fourth floor of a building and has enough room for them and her projects. It gets decent sunlight during the afternoon and Marinette thinks Tikki would have loved it. They can see a sliver of the Seine from their living room. A flicker of thought passes through them that maybe they should've found one with a balcony for easier access, but they remember that they don't need it in this life.
The first night, they eat takeout Chinese food while sitting on a mattress on the floor. Adrien is astonished that Marinette would betray her heritage with takeout, but Marinette insists that it came from one of the best places in Chinatown, and therefore counts. She promises to cook him the authentic stuff in the future, and it makes him cry.
Marinette continues designing in her spare time, but there's something missing from it. She's good at it. She appreciates the craft. But it doesn't hold the same excitement and pleasure it once did. Only the stuff she makes for Adrien satisfies her. Maybe she'll still do it for a living, but for now she mostly just works at her parents' bakery while doing commissions on the side. Her online store is decently successful, but not earth-shattering. She is, of course, never going to work for Gabriel Agreste.
Adrien does continue to model for his father, but it's not enjoyable anymore. It was barely enjoyable in the first place.
One night he asks if she still hates his father, and she says "yes" before he even says "father." Marinette is endlessly forgiving, but will never be about this. Every so often she remembers their old talk about killing him. As the years go by, she thinks she might have more of an appetite for it, and hates that about herself. She doesn't ask Adrien about his feelings. She knows he's still a mix of disdain and forgiveness and love and acceptance and confusion and fear. He always will be.
They tell each other whenever they're leaving the room, even if it's just to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water. It helps with anxiety. They say I love you every night right before going to bed so it's the last thing they hear in case anything happens.
They're over-dependent on each other, and there's nothing they can do about it.
When Marinette was younger she wanted—needed—to get married and have three glorious children. When they have the conversation now, it doesn't feel right to either of them. They aren't in the proper headspace. The world still doesn't feel real. They're worried about trying to raise children like that. They promise each other they both wanted it, they both hope for it, and they will keep each other updated on their feelings about it. About everything, really, just as they have since starting therapy.
As the years tick on, it never does feel right.
That's not to say they don't enjoy their life together.
They do. Immensely.
They laugh. They work. They travel. They share intimate private moments, and fun nights on the town. They get together for games and drinks with Nino and Alya. They have Sunday dinners with Marinette's parents. They have exciting days. They have boring days. Sometimes it's the boring ones they like the best. They make sure they never lose touch with their friends. They're sometimes overcome with grief, but they always have each other to turn to.
For Adrien, this partnership—friendly, romantic, sexual, past-super, all of it—is everything to him. A connection with another person who loves him faults and all. And she does, wholly, truly. Marinette is regularly overwhelmed by how much she loves this boy she wasn't allowed to appreciate in full until everything came crashing down in a previous life.
Which they still can't move past.
They still know all of this is wrong. They're not wrong. Everything else is.
One night she realizes she's staring at him as he moves his mouth without absorbing a single word of what he's saying. In response to his confused, concerned expression, she blurts out.
"I want to renew our vows."
"Like, tonight?" he asks.
"Soon. With all our family and friends. The ones who are important to us."
Adrien, who could effortlessly recite all the things he loves about her and how much this and her mean to him, merely smiles and agrees.
They do so six months later, around their 8th anniversary, and it's much more expensive and fun, a lot less laid back. Marinette sobs ugly tears as she tells him how much she loves him, how much he means to her, how she would give up everything to make him happy, but hates knowing that he'd never ask that of her. He tells her likewise, and that he loves knowing that he'll never need to. There's a frantic energy that everyone in attendance can't comprehend. They come across like desperate elopers, while everyone remembers their actual elopement was subdued and casual, as though they'd already been married for 8 years.
They don't go on a second honeymoon, because that seems ostentatious, though they both take a week off work. None of their friends or family hears from them during that time. They never leave the apartment.
As the years drag on, and Adrien stops modeling, he takes up a variety of other jobs, all while shutting down jokes from Marinette's dad about taking over the family business. Adrien learns quickly, though. He was always good at picking up new skills with practice, and this is no different. He tries something out, gets certified, and feels like he's making an honest living until he gets bored and moves on to something else. He never gets bored of her, though. He couldn't possibly.
It's enough to pay the bills, anyway. With just the two of them, still living in their cramped apartment, they never really worry about expenses. It's not like they have a lavish lifestyle. Adrien abandons all the fancy technology and clothing of his youth. Marinette embraces frugality. She still loves fashion, but has almost exclusively resorted to wearing jeans and t-shirts. Their free time out of the apartment is still mostly spent with close friends and family.
Alya's husband doesn't really care for Nino and Alya has never understood why. Marinette and Adrien know it's because there's something there, despite how shortly the pair dated for, and are certain it's because Alya and Nino never had their time as heroes to really bring them closer together. So it was just a teenage relationship that ended how teenage relationships end. Most of them, anyway. Marinette privately mourns what they had, but Alya and Nino don't even realize it and they never will.
They're comfortable hanging out with each other, though, even if it's just for their friends' benefit. Adrien and Marinette are immensely grateful, and do everything in their power to prevent Alya and Nino from ever feeling like third and fourth wheels. There's no double dating. It's always a fun time. Long enough to take their minds off the existential nightmare and infrequent enough to not grow too dependent on them. Just mutual friends accompanied by liquor and games.
One night Adrien realizes he's taken the former too far. He's sick all night and of course Marinette is beside him, holding his hair until she slips a red band off his wrist and ties his hair back. Because he worries about temptations, he refuses to let this be a coping mechanism. Adrien barely drank to begin with. He gives it up entirely. He keeps the hair tie.
Around the time Alya finishes university, Nino announces he's moving to America. Marinette will miss him. Adrien will never stop missing him. Even if none of this was supposed to happen.
Marinette's work in the bakery increases as her father's back worsens. Adrien admires that she has a knack for it. He'd learned to cook and enjoys doing it for her often—occasionally imagining he was cooking for five of them—but never got a handle on baking. Marinette wishes she could say that she finally learned to develop a passion for working in the bakery. She really wishes.
But she still can't shake the feeling that none of it matters. That none of it is real. Adrien feels it too. She stopped asking to confirm years ago, and she knows nothing's changed. They don't have the power to change anything.
This is the steady course for the rest of their twenties. Families start to develop health concerns. Friends break up, get married, have kids, move away. The small mercy is that neither develops any medical issues, though Adrien gets glasses and Marinette thinks it makes him look even hotter than before.
One day while walking through the mall, Adrien spots a piano. He sits down to play, rusty but competent. Marinette wonders what else he hasn't done in a while, and whether he'd still be as good. She wonders what he could do with his staff these days. He'd never felt much attachment to the music he was required to play, but looking at her looking at him, playing for her, he wonders why he stopped and how he could ever compose something as beautiful as her.
One day Adrien realizes Marinette hasn't designed or sewn anything in over a year. She merely confirms and he holds her for several minutes. He asks her to knit him a new scarf. She agrees.
One day while waiting for the metro, Adrien notes idly that if they'd had kids, their oldest would be turning 10 soon. The words are out of his mouth before he can question why and Marinette breaks down crying on the platform. Adrien joins her. When people come to check on her, to question if Adrien is bothering her, she physically tries to fight off anyone from taking her away from him.
She doesn't understand how time continues to flow when it was supposed to stop.
It's shortly before their 16th anniversary—just after Adrien's 34th birthday—when Gabriel Agreste dies from a heart attack. It's not exactly mainstream news, but it gets a passing mention. From the public's opinion, it's a shame; the death of a renowned fashion icon and Paris mainstay. For Marinette and Adrien, it just means the monster escaped full accountability. They don't talk very much that night. Adrien goes to bed early and Marinette does several shots in bitter celebration.
Neither of them goes to the funeral.
Adrien's mother doesn't forgive him for that, and their relationship becomes considerably more frosty than it was before. She demands an explanation he'll never be able to provide.
They still help clean out a lot of Gabriel's stuff from the mansion, though. Things even Emilie doesn't want to hold on to. Fashion nonsense that, in another time, Marinette would have been excited to claim for herself. It all goes into a dumpster that Adrien takes great satisfaction in paying for. They're careful to look through everything that's outbound. Searching diligently for any notable boxes or jewelry as they go. They find nothing. They're not sure whether to be disappointed, or why they would have expected to find anything.
Two weeks later, the bank informs Emilie that Gabriel had some safety deposit boxes that will need to be claimed. Thinking nothing of it, Adrien offers to retrieve the contents as a small favor for the woman he's increasingly distant from. It's raining buckets and neither even owns an umbrella.
One of the safety deposit boxes contains another, far more familiar box.
Adrien and Marinette have a joint account in this particular bank. When they discover the miracle box, they nearly have joint something else: panic attacks.
He wants to open it right there in the bank but she insists on caution, so they quietly make the withdrawal and return to their apartment, too nervous to speak. They enter through the front door, hastily lock it behind them, and can't take a single step further before sinking to the floor with the miracle box between them. Illuminated only by the stove light they forgot to turn off, the water dripping off their jackets pools around them.
Marinette lifts the lid, terrified of what she'll find inside.
Inside are the Miraculouses.
All of them.
They stare for a few disbelieving seconds before they frantically snatch theirs back and slip them on. For the first time. But not the first time.
Tikki and Plagg appear, and no time is wasted before their kwamis are hugging them as tightly as tiny little paws allow. They can fly of course, but resolve to sit delicately in Marinette and Adrien's cupped hands.
"Hawk Moth won," Marinette breathes, hoping like hell no further explanation is necessary. That the kwamis comprehend. That they remember.
"We know," Tikki says simply.
Plagg says nothing, and Marinette looks to her husband who's similarly incapable of speech. She can talk for both of them.
"What do we—" she chokes on the words. "What do we do?"
"What do you think we should do?" Tikki asks, and Marinette is horrified there's no urgency, no determination, no implication of any kind of moral imperative.
"We… We fix it, right?"
"Do we?" Tikki asks.
Marinette looks to Adrien, the boy who lost his mother, then gained her back, then lost everything all over again.
"We don't belong here," she says. "This isn't… This isn't right."
"There is no ‘right,'" Tikki explains softly. "This is just what is."
"It shouldn't be, though!" Marinette declares, all fire. "We spent years trying to stop Hawk Moth, to prevent precisely this! You can't instill in us the idea that the most important thing is to prevent this, and then now that's happened just shrug and say oh well, what's done is done! Like it's too late to set things right again!"
Adrien's eyes snap to hers. After this long, they can't help knowing what the other's thinking.
"What are you suggesting?" Tikki asks. She's not confused. She's not even curious. She just wants clarity. Specifics.
"We need to set things back to normal," Marinette whispers.
"You're proposing to unite the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses and use the wish to rewrite the universe? Just like Gabriel did?" Tikki asks.
"No," Marinette insists weakly. "We don't want anything from this. This isn't for gain."
"It is for gain," Tikki says sadly. "You want your old life back, just like Gabriel did."
Tears start to fall, because of course Tikki is right. As much as she wants to think of this as fixing things, equivalent to casting the kind of cleansing cure she remembers doing in a previous life, this isn't restoring the status quo from just minutes or hours prior. It's rebuilding something entirely new, just familiar.
"I just want another chance to win," Marinette sobs. "I want the victory without the cost."
"There will always be a cost," Tikki points out.
"Then we'll pay the cost!" Marinette shouts. "We've used the Miraculous Ladybugs to fix things. We've used Second Chance to try again. We've used Bunnyx to avoid a horrible future. We've used Sass to revert to a previous point in time. How is this any different?"
"It just is."
"Please," Marinette pleads, as the tears continue to stream down her face. "I tried so hard to be good. Not just this life, but before. I tried so hard to do what's right and never asked for more than I felt I deserved. Please give me this, just once. Please give Adrien this."
Tikki considers them.
"What if you remembered it all over again?"
"Then we'll have all the knowledge we need to stop him," Adrien says finally. "We can stop my father. We can give up all the Miraculouses after if we have to. We can be normal, and together, and suffer, but at least have done things right."
Tikki smiles softly.
"I was hoping you'd say that. Plagg and I intentionally included you two in the wish so that you would remember."
Marinette's breath catches. Did they just…?
"What… What does that mean?"
"You were Ladybug," Tikki says simply. "You don't have to remember this time. Do you think this is the best plan?"
It's selfish and selfless all at once, yet Marinette can't conceive of anything but this torturous choice as the right one, no matter what. She turns to Adrien and asks the question silently.
"I think we should do this," he says. "I don't think it makes us like him. We're basically just going back to the point we left. Like putting a book down to read a different one, and now we're picking it back up."
Marinette takes a minute to soak in every detail of her husband she can. His prematurely graying hair. His sallow, lined face. His tired eyes that still look at her like she's the most wondrous thing he's ever seen.
They don't know what lay on the other side of this. They'll see each other again, but not like this. So much they now know but won't remember. Yet they'll learn it all over again. There was pain then, there's pain now, there'll be pain again. But they know there'll be beauty waiting for them, even if they won't remember what they've shared.
"What do you say, m'lady?" he sobs with a trembling smile. "Want to go around again?"
Nearly blinded by her own tears, she nods fervently and they meet for one final kiss.
Kneeling on the worn wood floor, Adrien slips the ring off his finger, takes her hand gently, and slides it on right next to her wedding band. He doesn't let go of her hand. Marinette knew he wouldn't.
She transforms and makes a wish.