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Beau and the Beetle	By : Cat_Eyes Category: +M through R > Miraculous LadyBug Views: 3721 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug. Miraculous Ladybug is the intellectual property of Thomas Astruc and released by Zag studios. No profit was made writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue: Alya
- 2-Adrien
- 3-Felix
- 4-Bridgette
- 5-Adrien
- 6-Sabine
- 7-Bridgette
- 8-Alya
- 9-Adrien
- 10-Felix
- 11-Sabine
- 12-Bridgette
- 13-Alya
- 14-Felix
- 15-Adrien
- 16-Alya
- 17-Felix
- 18-Bridgette
- 19-Adrien
- 20-Sabine
- 21-Felix
- 22-Alya
- 23-Bridgette
- 24-Adrien
- 25-Sabine
- 26-Adrien
- 27-Felix
- 28-Alya
- 29-Bridgette
- 30-Adrien
- 31-Sabine
- 32-Bridgette
- 33-Felix
- 34-Alya
- 35-Adrien
- 36-Felix
- 37-Sabine
- 38-Bridgette
- 39-Adrien
- 40-Felix
- 41-Adrien
- 42-Felix
- 43-Adrien
- 44-Adrien
- 45-Adrien
- 46-Epilogue
- 17
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Sitting across from the detective brought back unpleasant memories Bridgette would rather forget. Her parents had told her of the lengths Tom and Sabine had gone to, to bring Marinette home, and investigators of every ilk had been a large part of that. However, this was a different set of detectives, looking for a boy who could have been Marinette’s opposite in appearance.
She squirmed in her seat, disliking that she was being questioned about a boy she had only recently befriended. They made her feel like a criminal, the way they looked at, and spoke down to her.
Everyone in their school was being questioned, even the teachers and other staff members. Gabriel Agreste had the idea that Adrien was hiding with one of the students, and demanded the entire student body be all but interrogated.
It was slow. No student could be questioned without a parent or guardian present, some students were recalcitrant, while others spoke too much. Now that it was her turn, Bridgette tried to be as honest and succinct as possible, in the hopes that she would be let out faster. But the investigators kept asking her to elaborate on her answers, even when there wasn’t much more to tell.
‘I think that’s enough,’ Sabine cut in sharply, with a scathing glare at the detective. ‘We’ve recently lost a member of our own family. We don’t need the stress of this on top of our grief.’
‘Madame Cheng,’ the man said with condescending patience, ‘this is an investigation for a missing child.’
‘You think I don’t know that? My daughter is still missing.’
‘Then you should be able to sympathise with Monsieur Agreste’s plight.’
‘To a point. I would never consider traumatising children, though.’
‘Which is probably why your daughter was never found,’ he muttered under his breath.
Bridgette snapped her jaw shut, eyes wide, as she slowly turned to look at Sabine. Her usually gentle face had turned a sickly white, before it darkened to a dangerous pink.
‘How dare you?’ she hissed.
Sensing impending doom, Bridgette leapt from her chair. ‘Ok, Aunt Sabine. Time to go.’
The investigator looked peeved. ‘We are not done here.’
‘I say we are,’ Sabine retorted, venomously. ‘Come along, Bridgette.’
Hooking Bridgette around the crook of her elbow, Sabine dragged her from the repurposed classroom with a deep scowl. She shoved by those still waiting to be questioned, ignoring their indignant protests and overt stares. Bridgette apologised to those they bumped into, waving contritely over her shoulder as Sabine hauled her away.
Tom looked up from the register when they re-entered the bakery, his mouth opening to ask how it went. After one glance at Sabine’s face, he judiciously closed it again, and retreated to the kitchen. Bridgette joined him, spending the rest of her afternoon there, hoping that by keeping busy, she could avoid Sabine’s wrath. From what she heard through the doorway, not even the customers dared linger, put off by her brusque manner.
By the time they closed for the day, and retired to the apartment, Sabine had calmed down enough to talk about what the investigator had said.
Tom was incensed.
‘The nerve,’ he exclaimed. ‘To say such a thing to a grieving mother, and expecting her to have sympathy for another, but to deny her the same courtesy. The sheer hypocrisy.’
Bridgette remained quiet as their mutual outrage fuelled each other on. She didn’t like what the detective said either, but there had to be a more mature way to handle the situation.
Eventually, their ire cooled. After dinner, they sat on the couch, staring listlessly at the television. Bridgette ignored the subtle glances Sabine kept giving her.
Finally, Sabine cleared her throat. ‘Say, Bridgette, are you still sleeping on the chaise? I can’t imagine it’s too comfortable.’
Bridgette’s head snapped up, as her mouth fell open. ‘How did you know?’
Sabine’s smile was gentle. ‘Oh, I’ve always known. You regularly forget to put the spare blankets and pillows away, and the bed is always perfect. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.’
Bridgette rubbed her arm, her gaze dropping to the floor. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just weird staying in her room without her there.’
Sabine exchanged a knowing look with Tom. ‘Well, what if we made it feel more like your room? Would that make you feel more comfortable?’
‘My room?’ Bridgette stammered, her mouth dry.
Tom grasped Sabine’s hand, and looked Bridgette in the eyes. ‘We’ve discussed it, and we think it’ll be ok if you redecorate, to make it feel more like home. You are attending school here too, after all, so you need to be properly rested.’
Bridgette bit her lip, her eyes falling to her knees. She was touched by the gesture, and it was true that the chaise did not make for adequate long-term sleeping arrangements. Her back and shoulders ached, her neck was stiff, and her hips were sore. Her sleep was light and unrestful, as she was constantly afraid of falling off while she slept.
Despite her discomfort, she had not thought seriously about sleeping in Marinette’s bed. Even now, she felt more like a guest than a resident, but she couldn’t deny her growing need for a decent night’s sleep.
‘Redecorate, how?’ she asked, timidly.
Tom and Sabine smiled.
‘We can start small,’ Sabine assured her. ‘Like some new bedclothes, and pillowslips. We can pull down the old posters and put them away, maybe even repaint, if we feel up to it.’
Bridgette met their steady looks. ‘Repainting is a huge job, and a big commitment. Are you sure you’re up to something like that?’
‘I think it’s time,’ Tom replied. ‘Marinette would want us to move on, and you to be comfortable.’
Nodding, Bridgette agreed. ‘Yeah, she would.’
‘It’s settled, then,’ Sabine decided. ‘We’ll get started in the morning.’

Saturday dawned bright and warm, with a slight breeze – an ideal day for redecorating.
After breakfast, Bridgette helped Sabine pack Marinette’s unused things carefully into boxes. Some were to be put into storage, others were going to be sold, and the rest would be thrown away. That was the idea, anyway.
‘Is it ok to throw these things away?’ asked Bridgette, as she examined a photo of Marinette’s friends.
Sabine nodded. ‘The ones without Marinette in them can go, but the ones with her can be put in the storage box.’
A small pile of pictures and posters were gathered into the throw away box, along with a few decorative hangings that had no memories attached to them. Sabine assured Bridgette that they were things that Marinette would have thrown out herself, in time. Bridgette pretended she didn’t see Sabine pocket a few photos featuring Marinette. They put the clothes and shoes into storage, as well as some pieces of costume jewellery, folded carefully into her old linens.
However, nothing was taken away to be sold. No one had the heart to treat Marinette’s things so callously, and they didn’t want to risk seeing her belongings in the possession of another.
The remaining items were things Bridgette decided to keep, as she would find a use for the sewing machine, computer, and the dress form.
She and Sabine opened the windows, then dragged the furniture away from the walls, and covered them and the floors in plastic drop sheets. Tom hauled up large buckets of hot, soapy water, then they all got to work washing the walls.
Sabine held a ladder steady while Tom cleaned up high, and Bridgette took it upon herself to scrub the skirting boards. They sang while they cleaned, lifting their moods considerably, and made the hours pass quickly. Bridgette hadn’t felt so at ease in months.
It was a big job, and took them most of the day. They were tired and sore over dinner, but their evening meal that night was more joyous than any Bridgette had experienced there in a long time. They spoke happily of possible redecorating ideas, even though they were largely impractical. Bridgette giggled at Tom’s suggestion of a water slide from the bed.
She spent that night on Marinette’s mattress, dragged down to the living room where she wouldn’t be subjected to the smell of cleaning fluids. She slept peacefully, comfortable for the first time since she arrived in Paris. She even dreamt of Marinette, smiling and happy, just as she’s been the last time they saw each other. Bridgette took it as a good omen.

Right after breakfast the following morning, Sabine took Bridgette shopping to choose new sheets and blankets. She decided upon butter yellow sheets and pillowslips, and a mint green quilt cover with a soft yellow floral print.
They then rushed to the hardware store, hoping to find a paint they liked before closing time. Many shops closed for the whole day on Sundays, but some places remained open to cater to the tourists and immigrants. They reached the hardware store with plenty of time, and browsed the paint section leisurely. Bridgette eventually chose a warm peach colour, a shade of pink she liked, which still honoured, and remained faithful to Marinette’s memory, but just different enough to change the atmosphere in the room. She decided the panels on the lower portion of the walls ought to be fuchsia, to provide contrast without clashing. She thought it would look lovely, and Sabine agreed. They even found a new rug in a soft rose.
They carried their findings home to see that Tom had just finished applying the primer, and was washing out the paint roller.
‘My goodness, you were industrious,’ Sabine observed, approvingly.
Tom stretched his arms above his head with a groan. ‘I wanted to get it done quickly. Painting is the absolute worst.’
Immediately feeling ashamed, Bridgette hung her head. ‘I’m sorry.’
With an undignified squeak, Tom rushed to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘No, it’s ok. We’re the ones who made the suggestion, remember? You have nothing to apologise for.’
Looking up, she bit her lip. ‘Really, you’re sure?’
‘Positive,’ Tom and Sabine replied at the same time.
Encouraged, Bridgette smiled, and showed Tom her new treasures. He praised her lavishly, before they hurried upstairs to see if the base coat had dried. With the windows open, the warm day, and the slight breeze, the primer dried quickly. Tom then armed himself with the roller, Sabine with the edging tape, and Bridgette with a fine brush. He poured paint into trays as Sabine placed the tape around the edges of the windows and the lower panels.
Bridgette was thankful for the drop sheets. She had never painted a room before, so she dripped paint all over. Sabine picked up a wide brush, and painted the mid sections while Tom spread the roller over the high up places. Bridgette smiled at the flawless team they made.
Between them, they applied the first coat in a couple of hours. They took a break while it dried, and had lunch. Sabine switched her new sheets from the washer to the drier, then they went to apply the second coat. Once it was finished, they stood in the middle of the room to admire their handiwork.
Sabine placed an arm over Bridgette’s shoulders. ‘It’s beautiful, Dear.’
‘Marinette would approve,’ Tom agreed.
They gathered the drop sheets, collected the brushes, rollers, and trays, and cleaned up the minor messes. Fortunately, most of the spilled paint was on them, rather than the floor.
Sabine would make the bed while Bridgette was at school the following day, and they would put the room back together after she got home. In the meantime, the windows would be left open and Bridgette would spend another night downstairs. She wasn’t bothered by the temporary arrangement, but she hoped that Tom’s and Sabine’s willingness to redecorate was a sign they’d accepted their loss and were moving on. It was hard to interpret any other way.
Bridgette knew they would all miss Marinette for the rest of their lives. She had been a beacon of optimism, and a stalwart companion. She’d brightened the lives of all who knew her, and would be sorely missed. But, the living had to keep going, which meant looking forward.
Although, it seemed to Bridgette that her aunt and uncle's mourning period had not been long enough. Even when they spoke of her, their emotions didn’t seem strong enough for the loss of a daughter they had fought so hard to conceive.
Bridgette shook her head at her own foolishness. Marinette had been gone for months before she arrived, so it stood to reason that Sabine and Tom had gone through their grieving prior to her arrival. Furthermore, she was still a teenager who knew nothing of losing a child. Her aunt and uncle were mature people who had learned to cope, at least outwardly.
Her friends were probably right when they suggested the Dupain-Chengs mourned privately. Bridgette decided she could be mature too, just like her aunt and uncle.
- 17
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- 19
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Beau and the Beetle