Sequel to IRONY

Plans

Thanks to all those lovely people who reviewed the previous chapter. I want to hug you... *offers cupcakes*

And thanks to some special people who stayed up with me and supported this book!!

Okay, here you go :)

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Marinette was in a state of paranoia again, pacing around the living room like some mad woman ready to murder anyone she could get her hands on. She was pulling her soft, curly locks and shouting obscenities in the air. She was jumpy and shaky and she felt as if the whole world was out to get her. Her best friend was seated on the couch, rubbing her temples roughly. She looked like she was in immense pain... or positively constipated.

"—and then he has the nerve to say he wanted nothing, NOTHING—!" she yelled, her voice abnormally high-pitched in uncontrolled anger. "It's just not—just—AGH!"

She grabbed a pillow from the couch and slapped it furiously to her face to muffle her shrill screams.

"Marinette," Alya said, eyeing her pacing form tiredly. "You're making me dizzy. Will you just calm down for a moment?"

"Calm do—How can I calm down when he's obviously using this as a ploy to get to me?" she moaned in frustration.

Hours and hours of research and reading contexts would do her no good this time. Damian was a complicated being. He had a different way of thinking, of doing things, and although his methods were extremely immoral and downright inhumane, she could not deny that they were effective.

She felt absolutely stupid when compared to him.

"What am I going to do!"

"Breathe," Alya suggested, as if it was that simple. She glared at Alya and then continued her frivolous pacing. "Look, there's no use avoiding him, since it's obviously not going to work. Just be on guard. Oh, hang on." Alya got out of nowhere, a pen and a piece of paper. She started writing quickly.

"What are you doing?"

"Sending a note to my associates," she said as he continued to scribble on. "We'll have your flat and your office warded, so he can't use dark arts if he gets inside."

"That's not going to stop him."

Alya glared at her. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

She whistled and her fox kwami flew in through the open window and into her lap. She tied the letter to its leg and it flew off. "I've done some investigating and it turns out that for the whole five years he'd disappeared, he'd been staying in France."

"France?" Marinette stopped her strides momentarily. "Damian Wayne? living there?" She looked at Alya as if she was joking.

"Yes, no wonder we couldn't find him. It was the last place we would ever think to look," Alya concluded.

Placing her palm on her forehead, Marinette gazed at her best friend more closely and frowned. She really looked exhausted and miserable and there were bags under her startlingly brown eyes, tell-tale signs of lack of sleep. Marinette suddenly felt a pang of guilt build in her chest.

If it weren't for her, she wouldn't have been dragged into this mess.

She always caused trouble for everyone.

"What?" Alya looked at her questioningly, noticing her sudden silence. She shook her head and stared at the floor. She could feel Alya's eyes on her. "You do know that this isn't your fault, don't you?"

She didn't say anything. She was wrong. If it weren't for her so many people would still be alive today.

"Listen to me, Marinette. You are not a bad person. You're a very good person who bad things have happened to, you understand?" Alya told her in a serious tone. She grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. "It's not your fault. Now, tell me exactly how it happened again."