Marinette's POV -
As I opened my eyes, the world around me was initially a blur. But amidst the haze, one thing stood out distinctly: the overwhelming sense of comfort and care. Despite being in a critical condition, I felt at ease. Gradually, my vision cleared, and I saw Damien sleeping in a corner of the room, holding my hand tightly, as if I were about to disappear into the distance. I tried to move without disturbing him, but my attempt failed. Apparently, he was a light sleeper. "Umm... Hi, I guess," I mumbled, breaking the silence. Startled, Damien jumped off the bed and began to yell.
"What made you think you could just faint like that? I was worried sick about you! You almost died... Are you serious right now? You can defend yourself against people twice your size but not someone like him?" I was taken aback by his outburst. What did I miss? Why was he acting like this? We were practically strangers, having only met a few times if that. His yelling was interrupted when Mr. Bruce entered the room, trying to calm him down.
"Hey, calm down. She just woke up. Don't scare her," Mr. Bruce intervened, attempting to diffuse the situation. Turning to me, he asked, "Miss, have you seen the face of your attacker? I can file a complaint and help track him down if we have some details." Mr. Bruce's professionalism was evident. "Mr. Bruce, I apologize, but I can't involve the police in this matter. There's a significant threat to my people. I would prefer to handle it myself. Besides, we have no information about the attacker. He had the audacity to threaten the lives of my loved ones. It's best if I take matters into my own hands." I couldn't let them become targets or be encouraged to harm the assailant.
"But your condition is severe. Please, let me at least help you," Mr. Bruce insisted. "Fine then, let me use your Bat-Wave," I suggested, referring to the advanced computer system Batman uses to gather information on criminals. I explained that I had known about his secret identity from the beginning, thanks to being a skilled tech developer. "I would have used my own equipment, but it's at my house, and time is of the essence. I only have four hours to crack the attacker's identity." I provided Mr. Bruce with a brief explanation. "Alright, as long as I can assist, I'm in," Mr. Bruce agreed, displaying confidence. He led me to the Batcave, where I began searching for data to uncover the identity of my attacker. Meanwhile, Mr. Bruce engaged in conversation with his son, Damien.
Damien's POV -
"Father, how can you trust her? She knew our identity from the beginning, and she claims to be a great tech developer, yet I've never heard of her before... And she mentioned that the man was a threat to 'her people.' What does she mean by 'her people'? Is she involved with some kind of gang?" I couldn't help but voice all the thoughts racing through my mind, although I held back some of them.
"Calm down, Damien," my father responded, attempting to reassure me. "I trust her because I choose to. As for her being a tech developer, I think it's best if you ask her directly. It's her secret to share, not mine. What I can tell you is that she's not a normal teenager. There's more to her than meets the eye."
His words only served to deepen my curiosity and confusion. Who was Marinette really? What was her connection to the incident and the mysterious attacker? It was clear that there was more at stake than I initially thought, and I needed to understand the extent of her involvement and the significance of her "people."
Marinette's POV -
"Well, ethically I shouldn't have listened to your private conversation, but you both were being quite loud. And by the way, thank you, Mr. Wayne, for respecting our boundaries," I said as they joined me at the computer, observing my actions. I attempted to connect to the Stark server, but it was taking too long. So, I resorted to hacking into it. After about five minutes, I received a call from Happy.
"Ma'am, someone broke into our main server, and our tech teams are unable to trace the IP address. Strangely, they're not stealing any data," Happy informed me. Just as expected. "It's me. I'm using another computer, and it was urgent, so I had to access our server. By the way, why did it take you five minutes to call? Shouldn't you have called the moment it was breached?" I ended the call once I had gathered the necessary information about the person.
The name was James Austin, and he was the brother of Samuel Austin, a former partner of mine who unfortunately died during a mission. Samuel and I had worked together on numerous missions, and he was a genuinely good person. I looked at the screen, then back at Mr. Wayne and his son. "Now I understand why his brother was so angry. It's not his fault, but he fell in with the wrong crowd. Mr. Bruce, I have one more request. I'm planning to talk to him calmly and try to clear the misunderstanding, but I'm afraid certain people won't let us resolve it peacefully. I need your help to buy some time and help change his perspective." Mr. Wayne agreed, but his son expressed his concerns.
"Isn't it like a suicide mission? We don't know if he's armed or not. He could attack you again, and this time it could be even worse. I can't allow it," Damien objected, his words filled with anger and worry. I was taken aback, not expecting such a response from him. I never imagined he would react this way. It was a mix of anger and concern.
"I believe in him, and more importantly, I believe in myself. I'm willing to bet my life on it. I've made this decision after considering all the possibilities. I can't stand by and watch the demise of someone who is innocent and deeply lost in grief." I replied, my tone firm and cold, but truthful. I knew I was not innocent in this situation. I was the reason his brother died, and his anger was justified. However, I couldn't let him die. He deserved a chance at redemption. He deserved to know the truth.
After finalizing our plans, we made our way to the library where James had asked us to meet. The plan was set in motion, with both Mr. Wayne and his son hiding nearby in their costumes, ready to intervene if needed. As I entered the library, I locked eyes with James. His gaze mirrored his brother's, reminding me of the good times we had shared during our missions together. It was time to confront him and hopefully find a way to set things right.
"Hello, James Austin," I managed to say, the words escaping my lips with difficulty. I fought to hold back the tears that threatened to overflow. "You have my name, which means you know who my brother is. If not, let me remind you. He was killed by you." James's face contorted with a mix of anger and sorrow.
"I know your brother. We were partners and good friends," I continued, my voice trembling. "What happened that day was not planned. It was an unfortunate and unavoidable situation. And only one of us could survive..." Tears streamed down my cold cheeks, betraying my efforts to remain composed. The pain I carried inside was overwhelming.
"He died in that mission, Agent Red. He died to save you. He admired you, he loved you," His voice was filled with a mixture of anguish and accusation. "He always spoke about you, how wonderful you were. But look where his love for you led him. And to make matters worse, you didn't even pretend to care. The very next day, you carried on as if nothing had happened. You didn't even bother to attend his funeral."
The weight of those words hung in the air, each word piercing my heart like a thousand daggers. The memories of that painful time flooded back, threatening to consume me once again. I didn't want to relive the agony, but I needed James to understand the truth.
"I didn't care, James? I pretended to not care because I couldn't show love to my own people. I live in a constant fear that someone like you would come along and make the people I love disappear. It wasn't an easy choice for me to make. His death traumatized me for an entire month. I was afraid to even close my eyes because every time I did, I would see him dying repeatedly. The guilt consumed me from within."
"I resorted to taking countless medicines just to maintain my sanity and continue with my work. I had to put on a facade of being okay to protect the lives he cared about. Everywhere I turned, there were memories of him. The jokes he made, the food he cooked, his favorite things—each reminder only intensified my guilt, I would often tell myself that it would have been better if I had died alongside him that day, rather than continue living with this burden. Unfortunately, this kind of pain is not new to me. I have experienced it so many times that it has become a part of who I am. Each time it happens, I lose a piece of my humanity."
"You're the first person I've shared this painful memory with," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It was his wish for me to not attend his funeral. Instead, he wanted me to celebrate his birthday every year in our secret spot. He wanted me to remember him, to honor his memory. And I have faithfully celebrated his birthday every year since, holding onto the bond we shared."
As I finished speaking, James rushed toward me, his arms outstretched to catch me. My knees buckled under the weight of my emotions, and I hadn't anticipated that the pain would hit me with such force as it did in the beginning. But he was there, holding me tightly, offering reassurance and support.
"Shhh... It's alright. Everything will be okay. You're not alone," he whispered soothingly, his embrace providing a sense of warmth and safety.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice filled with guilt and sorrow. "I was consumed by my own grief, and I failed to recognize the pain it caused you. I'm sorry for not understanding what you've been through and for accusing you. I hurt you deeply, reopening wounds we both wished to forget and move on from." Tears streamed down his face.
"I understand," I replied, my voice filled with empathy.
"You know, the pain of someone leaving you is unlike any other. It digs deep into your soul and settles there, a constant ache that heightens with time. At first, it's unbearable even, as if your heart has been shattered into countless pieces. But if you endure, if you allow yourself to dwell in that darkness a little longer, something extraordinary happens. The pain doesn't necessarily ease; instead, you become acquainted with it. It becomes a part of who you are. And somehow, amidst the sorrow, you find the strength to carry on. You learn to coexist with that ache, to live with it carved into your heart for the rest of your days. It doesn't define you, but it shapes you. It's a constant reminder of the love you once shared, the memories you cherished.
I have walked through the harrowing depths of grief, a journey that has tested the limits of my spirit. It was a darkness that enveloped me, a weight that pressed upon my very being. Yet, despite its intensity, I have found the strength to endure.
"Marinette, there's a problem. In my quest for revenge, I've put myself in danger. I've come into contact with dangerous individuals who now know about my knowledge of the agency and you. What should I do? Can I ever go back to my normal life?" I reassured him, "Don't worry about them, I've taken care of it. Go back to your family; they need you now more than ever." He nodded, and as he was leaving, he planted a gentle kiss on my cheek.
Damien's POV -
Hidden in the shadows, we awaited their arrival. They appeared minutes later, wearing strange masks. Despite their lack of expertise, they carried heavy weapons. We swiftly subdued them and secured them with ropes to them over to the authorities. Their identities remained unknown, likely members of a new gang.
As I waited for Marinette to finish, curiosity got the best of me. I entered the library and found her in tears, a sight I had never witnessed before. Another man consoled her with a comforting embrace.
An unfamiliar pang of jealousy surged within me. As she regained her composure, she uttered words that revealed a different side of her. It pained me deeply for her, no, it was more than that. I felt a profound sense of sorrow on her behalf. I have experienced my own share of hardships, though not as intense as hers. Yet, she bore it all with an unwavering façade. How many times has she gone through such suffering that it has become an ordinary part of her life? It sent shivers down my spine, a reminder of the depths she has endured.
After the man left, Marinette approached the bound group directly. "Do you recognize them?" I inquired, hoping she had some knowledge of their identities. Her voice trembled as she spoke, hinting at the underlying tension she carried. "Yes, they're sleeper cells, affiliated with the Joker. It's not good," she replied, her expression betraying little emotion. "Sleeper cells?" I questioned, seeking clarification. "They're individuals leading seemingly normal lives, blending in until they receive orders to carry out criminal activities for money. Their normalcy makes them hard to detect," she explained, her voice faltering briefly. Sensing her fatigue, I suggested we head home. "The doctors advised you to rest." We made our way to my bike, and as the ride commenced, exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted into sleep against my back. I could hear her deep breaths, though they lacked tranquility. Even in slumber, she remained alert. Wanting to preserve her rest, I slowed down, ensuring a gentle journey home.