Five minutes had passed since Chat's world ended. Face-down in the gravel, numb, mind and body throbbing, he focused on his breathing. He couldn't recall anything of the past day. Nothing. Trying to remember only made his headache worse. Focusing on his hushed, shaken breath was much easier. Sensations returned gradually. The silence became a dull ring. The blur that had overtaken his vision earlier had begun to make something feasible. Blood rose to his cold, pale face. He could shake the odd wet warmth at his claws.
Chat's strength returned to him, but only a fraction. He tried pushing himself up only to hit the gravel again. Two more tries at least brought him to his hands and knees before dropping him down again. The numbness drifted away, and he was filled with a stinging pain. His sense of smell returned just after the fourth attempt, and he recoiled instantly. Wherever he was reeked of smoke and something else he couldn't place. He looked slowly to his side at his black gloved hands, seeing they were speckled with dirt and…
Blood?
The hero gasped hoarsely, whipping his gloved hand around, trying to deny it, but there it was in vivid detail. Blood. The sickening metallic scent only made it worse. Gasping and wheezing, he pushed himself up to his rear, his vision finally good enough to get a proper view of himself. His black skin tight suit was covered in grime, gravel and rips in different places. Cuts and bruises of various sizes covered him. He looked down at his right arm, mouth agape. From the forearm down, it was covered in dried blood.
He looked around quickly. Was he in a parking lot of a mall? When did he get into a parking lot? Last he remembered, he was Adrien, studying for a test. Wasn't it midday when that happened? Below was a small trail of blood drops, presumably caused by him. The underground lot looked like it had been struck by an earthquake. Several parts were covered in craters and cracks, with one giant hole in the roof, letting in quite a bit of moonlight.
Panic set in shortly afterwards. He nearly passed out from hyperventilating. Every part of him was screaming for answers. For memories that he should have. But there was nothing to be found. It was like an alarm in his head with nothing inside to shut it off.
He backed himself into the cracked wall, clutching his head, no doubt leaving crimson streaks in it. He had to calm down. Take a breath. Think of anything rational so he could hope to God that he wasn't crazy. Or, God forbid, a murderer.
There was no body in sight. Nor was there a large pool of red where a body should be. There were speckles of blood around him, caused by Chat, and that was all there was. It was almost as if the person he had potentially mutilated had vanished. If he ever mutilated anyone at all.
After a full ten minutes of deep breaths and silence, he weighed his options. As much as he wanted to de-transform, and try to sort this mess out, a model walking around covered in blood would arouse quite a bit of commotion. Not to mention, his father would throw a fit. The best he could do was stop by his princess' house, and hope that she'd be up. Maybe she could tell him what happened.
Strangely enough, parkour doesn't work as well when you're heavily injured. Go figure. Chat learned that the hard way. After a bad landing, he ended up spiraling through the air, and straight onto a balcony, nearly snapping the metal framing in half when he hit it. A scream could be heard Marinette's room.
Chat was too hurt to get up, both body and pride, though when he managed to lift his head, he saw the damage. Cracked floor? Check. Bent metal railings? Check. Blood everywhere? Check. Chat chuckled ruefully. How was he gonna get himself out this one?
When his Princess ran out, and saw the mess that was Chat Noir, she glared down at him, studied him shortly, then cupped her mouth in shock. "What… what on earth happened to you?" She stuttered.
"Evening Princess." He rasped, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"Don't 'evening Princess' me? Wha… who did this to you? Why are you covered in blood?"
"I wish i knew. I just woke up like this. Say, Princess, do you know what I've been up to the last few hours? I can't remember anything." Chat asked, trying to push himself up, but failing miserably.
"That doesn't matter! Get in here!" She shouted. Being mindful of his wounds, she hoisted him, putting his arm over her shoulder, and helping him stumble in. Once in, she dragged him to the bathroom, stretched a blanket over the tile, and ordered him to lay down onto it.
"Ah… Thanks for the hospitality. Even if the beds should be-urgh! Ugh… a little more comfy." Chat commented weakly, shifting and fidgeting around on the hardened surface.
"It's not like I can put you on my bed." Marinette said sharply.
"Yeah. Blood doesn't go well on sheets."
"That's not… Ugh, what is with you? Even like this, you're still wisecracking." She said with a shake of her head. She dug into her medicine cabinet and pulled out a first-aid kit, along with a suture kit that made him seize up and shiver. She looked down at him sympathetically. "Sorry, but if it's deep enough, we're gonna have to do this."
"Hey, you don't hear me complaining." Chat said, relaxing against the blanketed tiles. "Could you just do me a favor and… make it quick."
Now Chat was used to pain. In fact, he'd wager that he was better suited to handle it than his partner, especially with the amount of blows that he shamelessly took for her. When it came to priorities, he was never high on his own list. Safety of civilians and his lady always came first. Even so, pain was still pain. And the hero was feeling quite a lot of it.
Every sore spot that the damp cloth touched felt like a odd cold flame. Dangerously hot, yet chilling at the same time. He gasped and grunted, trying his best to deal with it. All of his cuts and bruises were dealt with in turn until she found a particularly large cut on his forearm. She grimaced, hand hovering over the suturing kit.
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I trust you." Chat said reassuringly.
"Alright… sit up onto the tub. And please don't move." He did as she asked, and dug his claws into the tub, expecting the worse.
Even with his princess whispering heartfelt encouragement in his ear, it still didn't stop him from nearly screaming. Marinette was a skilled seamstress, and there wasn't another person he would trust putting a needle in him, but there was quite a difference between sewing fabric and human tissue. Shirt's didn't feel agonizing pain as far as he knew. Unfortunately, she wasn't used to that.
"Agh!" Chat croaked, the pain temporarily getting the better of him.
"Sorry. This is kinda my first time doing something like this." She said, stroking his pointy cat ears soothingly.
"It's… fine… just please hurry." He wheezed.
In went the third stitch. Then the fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Chat nearly passed out after that. Finally at the seventh and final stitch, she fixed the end, and lay him back onto the floor again. It was over and done with. The pain was still intense, but the procedure was done. He can rest.
He was done. Fatigued couldn't even cut it. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up again. Sadly, Marinette wouldn't hear it, for good reason too. His head rested on her lap, forcing him to look up into her eyes. Those soothing, caring, beautiful eyes.
"Now, Chat, care to explain what's going on?" Marinette asked.
"I was hoping you'd tell me." Chat replied. "I honestly don't recall anything before I transformed this afternoon. Kinda weird, don't you think?" Chat closed his eyes. "Say, do you know what I was up to? At all?"
She shook her head. "All I know is that you've popped onto my doorstep looking like you lost a fight to a blender. Where did you get all of this… on second thought, never mind." She sighed, recalling his apparent amnesia. "I swear, you must've been bashed in the head one too many times."
"Can't deny that." He croaked. "Not to worry though, Princess, I'll get through this. I am a trained pur-fessional after all."
Marinette rolled her eyes. "Always with the puns…" she looked over at his arms and grimaced. "That still doesn't explain… that."
"Hmm? Oh yeah, I don't know either. It sure spooked the hell out of me, waking up and finding that, but I have no idea where it's from. There was no body around, and no blood aside from mine on the floor. No signs or struggles or murder reports either from what I know." Chat shuddered at the thought. Him? A killer? It was like an oxymoron. So insane that it couldn't possibly be true. Looking at it again dredged back some old anxiety he had fought down previously.
Truth be told, he was terrified. Bloodstained and weary, but shaking, not from that, but from the prospects of what could have happened. Did he lose control? Did he really murder an innocent stranger? What if it was a child? What would he say to his family? Sweat poured down his face, heart thudding in his chest.
"Chat, calm down! You're breathing too fast, you're gonna pass out!" Marinette shouted, trying to keep him still. Any more jerking and sprawling, and he'd reopen his wounds. "Chat, please! I'm sure you're not a killer. I know I can't explain what happened, but just know I'm here for you, okay? You're not a killer. You can't be." she gently ran her hands through his hair, brushing against his ears.
Chat didn't know how, but it worked.
It took a little bit, but his breathing calmed down, almost as if Marinette had popped into his head, and finally shut that alarm off. It only struck him now how sleepy he was. What he would give to just sleep here, with his head on her lap, but he had a feeling she wouldn't have it. Plus, his father would kill him for not being home.
Not to mention, Plagg still needed to be talked to. Surely he could recall what happened. Hopefully he could at least.
"Princess, I think I need to leave. My… people back home won't be too happy to hear that I slept somewhere else." Chat said, pushing himself up slowly, letting out a choked groan along the way.
"Uh-uh. You aren't going anywhere. Do you not see how badly you've been hurt? You can't be on the move already." Marinette said, trying to force him back down, but he wouldn't let her.
"Sorry, my Princess. I gotta dash. Thanks for having me, and see you tomorrow, hopefully." And with that, he took off out of the bathroom, and onto the balcony, with Marinette following suit. He gave a two finger salute before jumping off the edge and ignoring Marinette's calls.
All Marinette heard was a sharp crash, a loud car alarm, the yowl of a cat, and a small, choked curse.
Marinette sighed.
The stumble back home via rooftop wasn't half as bad as it was getting to Marinettes house. For one thing, he was patched up. He could already feel the effects of his suit healing him. He just needed to make it home, get a good night's sleep, and get some answers in the morning. Though, he had a feeling sleep wouldn't come easy tonight, no matter how tired he was.
It wasn't until he was about half way to Agreste manor before a noise made him stop. It was subtle, something that no human ear could catch, but he could. Cautiously, he looked behind him, only to see an empty street.
"W-who's there?" Chat shouted. Part of him expected no answer. The other demanded one. Both were surprised when someone did.
"Just an old friend, hoping the others alright." A solemn, masculine voice said. It was deep and resounding, bustling with maturity. Slow footsteps behind Chat caught his attention. Out of the gloomy night, a young man in a strange attire popped out, smiling. "You have some good ears on you. Here I thought I was being sneaky."
"Who are you?" Chat asked shortly, hiding his bloody claws. "Sorry, but if you're asking for an autograph, tonight's not your night. I have to go an-"
"Tell me, how was tonight? Was it fun?" The young man asked.
Chat's blood ran cold. "What did you just say?"
"Ah, you're right. Never mind, stupid question. It was quite a blast. You told me yourself." The young man stepped closer so Chat could get a good look at him. His outfit was strange. Chat would have called it cosplay if he had never been introduced to the world of the miraculous. The young man was dressed in a skin tight grey suit, that was covered in black steaks. Messy black hair billowed out, and covered his human ears, running down to his shoulders. Wolf ears poked out of his head, along with a black mask across his eyes, similar to Chat's. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look good with black hair?"
"What the hell did you-" Chat shook his head, trying to quell the overload in his head. "Who. Are. You?"
The smile on the young man's face disappeared slowly. "Oh what a shame. You don't remember. Common side effect probably." The man sighed. "To answer your question, I am the Loup Gris. Call me Gris for short."
"Alright, another question. How do you know me?"
"Well, we've just spent a wonderful night together." Chat openly cringed. Gris burst out laughing. "Not what I meant. I met you this evening, and showed you who you truly are. You embraced it. You loved my ideals, and wanted to help me. Too bad you don't remember. I would have loved to have you at my side."
"You're making this weird." Chat said, backing up uncomfortably.
"Trust me. That is far from my intent. Just take things slow. Your memories will come back. And when they do, seek me out again, so we can relive old times." Gris said. Before Chat could say anything more, Gris vanished, into the gloom, and out of sight. Chat was left, mouth agape, trying to make heads or tails of whatever that man just said.
Plagg would know. He had to.
Adrien hoped he knew.
The moment Adrien arrived back into the manor, the transformation wore off, and Plagg, to his surprise plopped down onto his bed, already asleep. Adrien narrowed his eyes, poking experimentally at the kwami, and calling his name. Nothing. He must've been just as exhausted as he was.
Adrien swamped his way to the bathroom, and looked into the mirror, unable to recognize who he saw on the other side. The features were still the same. The same handsome face, same messy blonde hair, albeit streaked red with blood. Though his eyes told a different story. It was something he couldn't place. No.
It looked like longing. Desperation. He had the gaze of a man who had the very thing he wanted his entire life only for a few seconds as it was cruelly taken from him, and he had no idea why, or even what it was. Adrien looked away. So many questions, yet so little answers, and it was tearing him apart.
After a while dwelling, he decided it was best to rest. Sunday was tomorrow, and there were no photoshoots, thank God. At least now, he could get some sleep. And some answers. He did his best to wash the blood away, and walked back into his bedroom The moment Adrien's face hit his pillow, he was out like a light.
And here we go with my first Miraculous Ladybug story. I hope you enjoyed! If you could do me a favor, and give this a review. It always helps me out, and inspires me to make more! Thank you all, and goodnight!
