Okay, I see everyone here freaking over what Chats gift is and whether it’s for Ladybug or Marinette but hear me out…
What if its for Gabriel?
Like, what if Adrien got his dad a really heartfelt gift, only to have Nathalie tell him his Father was too busy to spend Christmas with him? Cue Chat Noir running away from home as a ball of teenage emotions, Troy Boltening his way across Paris etc, but he for some reason takes the gift with him??? Then, later in the episode after all the akuma fighting and stuff, we get Gabriel finding his son after literally tearing the town apart and Adrien being shocked because his dad is like hugging him??? And cr y I ng??? And Gabe does the whole “dont you ever do that again I was so worried spiel” and Adrien gives him the gift and we could have this beautiful juxtaposition of father and son hugging in the snow and Marinette surround by her entire extended family around a table teeming with food and it would be heart wrenching and I’d cry and I KNOW it’s not going to happen but let me dream
those feelings you get when you watch the episode where Deanna loses her powers and you know that Tasha would be right there to help her friend deal with this including dragging her to the holodeck to work out some of the frustration she’s feeling and giving Deanna a hug when she feels too closed off from people around her with the loss of her powers.
Furia hadn’t fallen asleep yet. After weeks of watching her
sleep, Johnny knew the differences in her breathing.
“You doing all right?” he asked.
“I miss him.”
“I know.” He turned and curled himself around her, pulling
her tight against his chest.
A soft sniffle broke the silence. “I mean Eli.” Trying to
hold back her emotions surrounding Troy’s death dammed up more than just her
Johnny brushed his lips over her shoulder. “Go see him.”
“I want to …”
He heard that, too, the unspoken word. “But?”
She turned in his arms. Even in the faint light he could see
it, the glisten in her eyes. “I closed the rift without talking to him.”
“I thought you sent him a note.”
Furia sat up and shifted to the edge of the bed. “That’s not
talking. That’s just telling.”
Johnny moved, pressing his hand over her back.
“I thought it was the right thing. I wanted to protect him,
the kids, all of them. If I was captured and the rift was open, anyone could go
through. Hell, even if I died it could have happened for all I know. Some
people’s rifts are out in the open. Anyone who went through ours could have
walked into theirs, and it would have all been because …”
The bed telegraphed his movement in the dark behind her, and
when he tried to comfort her she retreated. He hated when she did that. It was
like the fights, letting the bruises linger so she could wallow in the pain.
She hurt someone else so she should hurt as much or worse; she’d pull away from
comfort because she felt like she didn’t deserve it.
“It wasn’t fair. I pushed him away.” Her voice cracked and
softened as she shared something she only barely admitted to herself. “Then,
when I needed him, he couldn’t be there.” Her breathing quivered in the
darkness. “He must hate me,” she whispered, her uneven tone betrayed the tears
hidden by the night.
Johnny couldn’t be surprised that she had not told him she
needed Eli. She hadn’t told him a lot of things over the last several months.
Like Eli, they’d all been blocked out. Only in the past few days had she started
facing what happened, what she’d refused to deal with.
Silence hung between them in the shadows. Her scrunched up
form only visible because of the stark white T-shirt she wore. Johnny wanted to
tell her Eli didn’t hate her, but he knew it wouldn’t help. She’d torture
herself until she saw him and got the conformation or denial of the same from
the horse’s mouth.
Finally, he climbed to the edge of the bed. “Put your boots
on,” Johnny said, opening the drawer of the bedside table. He pulled on the
first pair of pajama pants he found then tossed her a pair. They were far too
big for her, but more than once she’d stolen a pair and just cinched them
They made their way to Matt’s room. Furia pounded on the
door with a frenzy. Matt pushed his hand through his hair, yawning as he opened
the door. “What’s up?”
“I need you to open the rift,” Furia told him in a rush of
“A few days ago.”
Matt chirped when Furia grabbed him by the collar of his
T-shirt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Calm down,” Johnny cautioned giving Matt a stern glare as
he tried to peel Furia’s hands off of the kid. “You can throttle him, or we can
go see Eli.”
“Kind of surprised he hasn’t come by himself,” Matt opined
without thinking before he said. Johnny almost let her go that time. It would have served him right.
As if Johnny’s trade-off finally hit home, Furia gave up her
lunge for Matt and slipped out of his grip to bolt down the hall. Gat glared at
Matt and followed after her.
“Sorry,” the hacker called after them.
Furia jumped through the rift at a run. And though she
dodged through the detritus of the building the sight of it did not seem to
sink in. Her mind raced along another track, toward one singular goal. Of
course, she still had no idea what she was going to do when she got to Rougher
Sounds. She hadn’t thought much past that.
Three months, three weeks, six days, thirteen hours, and 42
minutes—give or take. That’s how long it had been since she sent that message. It’s been nearly four months, she
thought as she ran through the empty streets, like she was being chased (which
she was). More than enough time for a
person to move on.
That thought made her turn her focus to the minute details
of her stride, the muscle sensation of her arms, the pattern of her breathing,
anything to keep from letting her mind wander on its own. Those thoughts scared
her, made her throat and chest tighten with the prospect of losing Eli, too.
She didn’t have enough in her for another wall.
By the time she reached the block Eli’s music store sat on,
she was slick with sweat, her cheeks and chest pink from exertion, and
breathing heavy, but it didn’t slow her stride. Her hair was a stylish
combination of windblown bed head, but she didn’t care. She dashed up the
street, into the alley, and up the stairs. Johnny managed to keep up with her,
almost. When he joined her on the stairs, she’d already rung the bell, and a
moment after his arrival, she pounded on the door, just in case no one heard
“It’s like 3 a.m.,” Johnny explained, “give them a minute.”
He was right, she knew he was right, but she didn’t want to
just stand there and wait. Of course, that’s all she could do.