Murphy's Law
Part II: Conflict
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[2 years ago]
"I wish you'd stop doing this," Ladybug says through grit teeth, hands steady as she wraps the thick bandage around his blood-soaked arm. "God, Chat."
He laughs weakly, wincing when she pulls the binding too tight. His face is noticeably paler, and his breath is shallow. There is no regret in his eyes, not even a flicker of it, and the lack of it makes her heart hurt. She wishes he did regret it. It would make things so much easier.
"What, no thank-you kiss?" he asks, a pale imitation of his usual smile pulling at his lips. "C'mon, Lady. I couldn't just let you get hurt."
"You could've let me try and defend myself—"
"There wasn't time."
"I know there wasn't time!" she snaps, and unintentionally yanks on the bandage, making him yelp. She immediately lets go, guilt rising. "Sorry."
"'S okay," he mumbles, letting his head fall back against the wall. The air is freezing cold, rain drizzling outside their make-shift shelter under the canopy of an empty shoe store. The wind blows the droplets beneath their refuge, soaking through their suits, beading on their skin.
Chat keeps shivering, involuntary shudders wracking his small body. She makes sure to keep close to him, sharing their heat as she returns to bandaging his arm. This time she makes sure to be gentle, to wrap the bandages as secure and tight as they can be without pressing the gauze too forcefully against the wound.
"I know there wasn't time," she admits softly, refusing to look at him. "I just… you don't always have to be the one to take the hit. You do it all the time, Chat. For me, for civilians… you have to be more careful. You don't have to sacrifice yourself to save someone."
"I get it."
He doesn't, or he wouldn't be saying that. She takes a deep breath, pressing her lips together tight. She wants to scream. "Chat—"
"I do!" he insists, and when she looks up his distressed gaze captures hers. He looks at her imploringly, begging her to understand. "I get it," he repeats. "But, well—we're a team, aren't we? So I'll watch your back and you'll watch mine, and that way neither of us will ever get more than scratches."
Scratches, he calls them, but they both know this one will scar. If this is a scratch, what is a wound? She's already taken to wearing long sleeves to hide her own scars, the curved one on her shoulder and an ugly line, pale and splotchy on her forearm. If those are scratches, what sort of mark would a wound leave?
He must see the gloominess on her face because he nudges her with his shoulder, concern shining in his eyes. "It's a promise," he offers tiredly. "We'll… we'll always be okay, so long as we watch each other's backs." His eyes roam her face, searching for something she can't fathom.
"Deal?" he asks, voice small. He's probably her age. He sounds like it. Neither of them are much more than children, but here they are, fighting monsters and escaping injury by the skin of their teeth.
It is a shaky promise, a weak one. What if one day they are separated? What if one day they slip up? They're only kids. Only children. And this is a world they have only just entered.
Ladybug forces a smile and squeezes his shoulder. They both pretend her hand isn't shaking.
"Deal," she says.
[Present Time]
Marinette throws herself to the floor with seconds to spare.
By some miracle her instincts react just in time, and she hits the cold tile just as the light slams against where she'd stood not a moment ago. Her shoulder aches from the rough landing, and her hands are killing her, but Marinette is alive.
To her relief, no attacks follow that first attempt at ambush—Chat reacts as any hero with a few years' worth of experience would, throwing himself into battle without a second's hesitation. His only pause is to see if Marinette is all right, and then he pays her no more mind, completely swept up in the battle taking place.
With a furious cry he launches himself at the Lantern, staff gripped firmly in his hands and swinging ruthlessly. She ducks under it, darting forward to strike, but he flips over her head with ease, staff shrinking and separating into two batons. He lands lightly and rolls, lashing out at her feet and catching an ankle, and the Lantern falls with a surprised cry, the light blast she'd been creating slipping from her hold and slamming up into the ceiling.
Debris rains down, and Marinette scuttles away, one eye on the fight and the other scanning her surroundings for a weapon. She finds a large bit of broken wood and hefts it in her hand; it would make a good projectile.
She waits until their focus is diverted away from her again, worry increasing as the fight drags on. Chat is used to fighting with a partner, with Ladybug, and sooner or later that dependency is going to bite him, and the Lantern will gain the upper hand.
She cannot let that happen.
Marinette closes one eye and aims, carefully pulling back her hand. The rough wood is torture on her burned and bleeding palms, but she ignores the spasms of pain best she can.
The Lantern lunges and Marinette reacts, letting the piece fly with an aim borne from years of handling her yoyo. She doesn't miss—the wood slams into the side of the Lantern's head, and she stumbles, mouth dropping open in surprise and a hand reaching for her head.
With a triumphant yell Chat swings, but either the Lantern is too quick or he too late to react to the sudden opening, because one minute her friend is reaching for victory and the next he is being brutally blasted back, slamming through the broken pipe art and into the wall beyond it.
Marinette cries out, horrified, but she is too far away and the Lantern too close, stumbling towards her fallen friend with a pained laugh bubbling from her throat. Chat is stirring, eyes fluttering open, but the Lantern seizes her chance with a desperation only the akuma victimshave, reaching out her painted hands and placing her palms flat against his eyes.
A bloodcurdling shriek rises from Chat's lips and he throws himself back, slamming his head into the wall with a sharp cry. The Lantern is laughing, pale light whipping away from Chat to curl around her, fading into her skin.
The light seems to rejuvenate her: her skin glows, her wounds heal over, and a new luster seems to coat her from head to toe. She cackles and spins away, and fallen beads from her dress fly up and reattach themselves to the heavy yellow fabric, seemingly immobilizing but somehow surviving her fist fight.
"They took the light of my life away," she croons. "And so I have taken your light. I will be the only light! The only lantern!"
Chat gasps put a pained breath, his hands pressing against his eyes. His feet kick out but this time the Lantern dodges, light cloaking her hand and hardening into claws. She grins, striking at his face. He stumbles away, but not soon enough, for one long clawed finger catches his shoulder and rakes down his back.
He yelps, slipping on his feet and falling hard with a pained yelp. Marinette cries out wordlessly, aching to go to him, but a sharp glance from the Lantern stills her in her tracks.
"Do not think," the Lantern hisses, standing tall and proud over Chat's fallen form, "that I have forgotten about you."
"No!" Chat shouts, but the Lantern ignores him, turning her sights back to Marinette. He is injured, and both the Lantern and Hawk Moth know that there will be no more danger from him.
Marinette is alone in this fight.
The first burst of light booms above her head, and Marinette jumps away, landing on her hands. She intends to use the momentum to push herself up and out of danger but her skin screams and she drops hard onto the floor, her palms swollen and turning a molted red. She'd forgotten about her injuries.
Claws rip through the floor towards her and she rolls, tucking her injured hands close to her chest and flat out sprinting to where Chat lies, barely managing to keep her feet among the obstacle course of debris and broken tile.
The Lantern slams into her before she can reach him, weaponized fingers brought up to her face, but Marinette brings up her elbows and slams it onto the girl's temple, and she drops with a scream of pain too human to be comforting. Marinette pushes the writhing form off her and practically falls into Chat, who hisses loudly and makes to attack her.
"Chat!" Marinette cries out, alarmed, and he seems to stumble, his fingers unclenching and a mix of emotions flashing over his face: fear, horror, confusion.
"Marinette?" he asks, voice breathy with pain, arm still pressing against his eyes, "Marinette, you have to run!"
"I can't get out," she admits helplessly, climbing unsteadily to her feet and pulling on his free arm. "She welded the door shut with her heat-light blast thing, I can't… we have to find another way! She's getting up, we have to…" she trails off when he fails to move, when his hand remains pressed against his face. She remembers the victims she saw earlier, weeping and moaning and all, each and every one, with their hands over their eyes.
"Chat," she whispers, "what did she do?"
"I don't know," is his reply, shaky and uncertain and painfully young. "I don't know what she did but I—" He stops, breathing heavily, letting his arm fall, eyes screwed shut. "But I can't see."
He opens his eyes and Marinette sucks in a sharp breath, horrified at the sight. His iris is empty. There are no burns like she'd feared, but somehow this is almost worse. His pupils, slit like a cat's and the most expressive part of his eyes, are gone.
He seems to sense her horror, a stricken look passing over his face as his hands fumble blindly to her shoulders. "What is it?" he asks, and his clawed fingers dig into her skin. "What did she do?"
Marinette opens her mouth, mind blank and thoughts gone dark, but before she can even attempt to reply a hand grips her hair and yanks her back. She screams, the sharp pain sudden and unexpected, landing awkwardly on the rocky ground and blinking teary eyes up at the Lantern.
The akumatized girl leers back, her hair a tangled mess and smile like a crescent moon carved upon her features. She reaches out her hand and the beads on her dress dangle. Small, dark reflective beads, like the pupil of an eye. The sight makes her feel sick.
"Say goodbye to the light," the Lantern hisses, and her hand darts like a snake toward her face.
Marinette falls back on instinct, no longer caring about holding back for the sake of the victim. Chat is blinded and she is trapped, and there is nothing else left to do but fight until she breaks.
She lashes out first, slamming her forearm to block the hand with a vicious sweep. The Lantern stumbles, taken off-guard, and Marinette brings up her legs and kicks out, catching the other girl in the stomach and sending her falling back.
"Marinette!" Chat shouts, and she wavers, uncertain, brought out from her concentration by the fear in his voice. "Marinette, run!"
"Chat," she says, because he is an idiot and a fool and her best friend, and she really can't afford distractions right now, "please, shut the fuck up."
She rolls into a crouch, making sure to keep herself between the akuma and Chat. Vendetta or no, Hawk Moth will instruct the Lantern to take Chat's Miraculous, and there is a snowball's chance in hell of Marinette allowing that to happen.
She pushes up to her feet and slides back into a stance, wishing desperately for her weapon. Her foot taps against something on the floor, which pings in the soft irritating way metal does when you drop it on tile. She looks down. Chat's staff, abandoned after his fall, shines in the light.
It is not a yoyo, but it is a weapon, so she toes it off the floor and rolls her wrist experimentally, trying to get a feel for it. It feels right in her hands, not in the way her yoyo does, like it was made for her and is more an extension of herself than a weapon; it is instead right in a more symbolic way, as if by using Chat's weapon she is defeating the akuma the way she always does: with Chat by her side.
The Lantern attacks again, rage twisting her pretty features into something ugly and cold. Marinette sets her shoulders and swings moments before those deadly claws skewer her through, throwing her whole weight and every last bit of her frustration into the blow.
The staff hits the girl's jaw with a sharp crunch, snapping back her head and forcing her to stumble away. Something gives beneath the metal, bone breaking. The Lantern leans back and wails, blood dribbling from her mouth, rage and hurt warring across her face as her hands cup her shattered jaw.
Marinette doesn't hesitate, not allowing herself to feel guilty as she throws herself atop the girl and scrambles at her neck. She finds the smooth, almost plastic cord and the solid stone hanging from it like a droplet and yanks, hard. It snaps evenly but the Lantern shrieks again at the sudden burst of pain, the metal clasp no doubt biting into her neck.
Marinette climbs heavily to her feet again, swings the chord of the necklace around her hand once to secure her hold on it. She rests one hand on the wall and brings back the other, and with a furious yell smacks the crystal necklace against the smooth stone.
It doesn't break, not that she expected it too, so she grits her teeth and keeps swinging. Someone is screaming—whether it is herself or Chat or the Lantern, she can't tell—and the sound rings in her ears, an insistent buzz bordering on white noise, blurring her vision and making it hard to think.
She swings again, harder, angrier, remembering the look on Chat's face when he'd crashed into the wall, when the Lantern's claws had dug viciously into his skin. The crystal remains intact, but cracks are starting to show. She takes a breath, making to swing again—
A hand grips her forearms and wrenches her away. She struggles, slamming her elbow back, the Lantern squealing in her ear. The akuma's skin burns like fire, her eyes empty and hollow and cold despite the anger that clouds her features.
The Lantern holds tight so Marinette takes a breath and slams bodily into her, pushing her shoulder into her gut and slamming her foot against her shin. The Lantern's nails dig into her skin and pull, leaving little trials of red behind, irritated and burning and painful, blisters rising from the burn on her arm—but she lets go, and with a triumphant yell, Marinette swings the crystal down on the wall one last time.
It shatters like a glass window hit by a projectile, pieces blown out everywhere, sharp and sudden and possibly deadly. It strews in multiple pieces across the floor and a black butterfly pulls away from it, fluttering up into the air.
She pulls her hand down to her side for her yoyo and finds empty air.
Too late Marinette realizes her mistake, and her moment of hesitation costs her, the akuma fluttering up through the glass and disappearing from sight. She stares numbly at the ceiling until a small hand waves in front of her, Tikki hovering worriedly before her.
"Tikki, I—"
A quiet whimper draws her attention and she stares down at the Lantern, who is slowly and painfully climbing to her feet. Her heels are broken, the black beads on her dress clattering to the floor with a sound similar to falling rain. As each hit the ground they evaporate into black smoke, swirling away out into the open air, some of it even enveloping Chat. Blood dribbles steadily from the Lantern's lips; her chin is puffy and swollen, her eyes red and angry.
She smiles at Marinette, perfect teeth stained red with blood, and vanishes away into light. No words are said, but Marinette gets the message. She hasn't purified the akuma. This fight is not over.
"Marinette?"
She turns away, glancing over at Chat. He is standing now, shoulders hunched uncertainly, favoring his left leg and careful not to move his arm too much. His gaze is unfocused and fearful, head cocked in an attempt to hear better.
"I'm here," she says, and his head tilts in her direction, relief written across his face.
"Thank god," he whispers, sagging against the wall. "The Lantern?"
"Gone." She swallows hard, feeling irrational tears well up. She's so frustrated she could scream. "I'm—there was a black butterfly, when I broke the necklace—it flew away, I'm sorry, I couldn't…"
It is as much an apology to him as it is to Tikki, who rushes close to nuzzle her cheek, the silent affection easing her guilt. Marinette feebly cups her hand around her friend, relieved at her lack of anger, but her eyes lingering on her partner.
Chat shakes his head, smiling weakly. "It doesn't matter. Ladybug and I—" he stops, wavering, then forges on, "Ladybug will find it soon. I'm just glad you are okay!" His smile fades. "I'm sorry, Princess. Looks like your knight ended up being pretty useless. Though, how did you…?"
"Oh." For a horrifying moment she blanks, but Tikki is quick to come to her rescue, flicking down to where Chat's staff lies discarded on the tile. She kneels, picking it up, offering it guiltily to him before she realizes he can't see it and brings it close to her chest instead. "I… kind of used your staff-thing? Um. I hit her with it. I think I broke her jaw?"
Chat gapes at her. It's kind of funny, but she suppresses the giggles. She can be hysterical later. "You… hit her with my staff?"
"Yeah…" she glances down at it, suddenly self-conscious. Too late, she realizes that it's not a very Marinette thing to do. Does he think her strange? Or overly violent? She hopes not. "Um, sorry for using it. And, uh, she kind of spat some blood on it when I, ahaha, hit her… so it's a bit gross now. Um."
Chat starts to laugh, low and long and hard. He presses his good hand against his mouth but the action does little to stifle his high-pitched giggling. She blinks at him, too stunned to do more than stare.
After a few minutes of helpless laughter he finally straightens, his good arm wrapped around his middle. "I think I may have underestimated you, Princess," he says, still giggling like a child. The fit of mirth has undoubtedly jarred his injuries but the wide smile stays etched on his face.
She feels heat rise to cheeks and ducks her head to hide her smile. "Thanks…"
She watches as his laughter dies off, feeling worry seize her chest tight at the discomforted look that replaces it. She moves to his side, placing an unsure hand at his shoulder. He shudders at her touch, flinching away and then biting back a cry of pain when the motion jolts his injuries.
She can't leave him like this. The akuma is still out there, and he wavers on his feet. Besides which, he is Chat Noir; her partner, her best friend, someone she trusts with her life on a daily basis.
He's her partner, he's hurt, and there is no way Marinette is going to leave him alone in this state.
She carefully guides his arm to drape around her shoulders, supporting his weight when he slumps against her, breathing labored and hissing through grit teeth. This close, she can see his pupils have returned, but they're so constricted and small she knows that it will be some time before he can see again, if he will see again at all.
She squeezes his hand, ignoring the ache of her own injured palms. She hopes, desperately, that she hasn't made a huge mistake. If Chat Noir lost his sight because of her own desire to protect her secret, then she doesn't know what she would do.
"C'mon, kitty," she murmurs, voice soft. "Let's go."
