Summary:
I'm not going to let anything else happen to you, she repeats again and again to herself like a mantra, engraving it into her heart to make sure she never forgets it-to make sure he doesn't have to spill another drop of blood for her sake; to make sure something like this will never happen again. It was her fault Chat had gotten hurt in the first place; her fault he was going to have that ugly scar forever engraved into his skin; it was her fault for everything, yet he still looked at her with those beautiful shimmering emerald eyes of his, like she was the most important thing in the world to him. He deserved so much better. Drowning in her own guilt and suffocating in her anxiety, not wanting to risk putting Chat in any more danger, she seeks out the help of another miraculous user to help her fight akumas while Chat's out of commission. Viperion was only supposed to be temporary, but the more time they spend together, the more and more apparent that there's unspoken chemistry between the two of them. Stricken with betrayal, in Chat's eyes, the snake starts feeling more and more like a replacement. Too blinded by her guilt, Ladybug doesn't realize that she's only been clawing her partner's wound even deeper by trying to protect him.
A/N: This is also cross-posted onto AO3. Summary subject to change in the future.
Ladybug sucks in quick labored breaths, her hands clawing and balling up the fabric of her suit in her hands, knotting up the excess in anxiety. She tries to breathe but her lungs quiver and refuse the air she so desperately needs. It's like her lungs have forgotten how to function. It had all happened so fast. No matter how hard she tried to wrap her head around what had happened—how it had happened; she couldn't. He had been perfectly fine. But then suddenly, he wasn't.
She runs her hands through her messy tangled hair, not caring that her hands are still slick with blood—his blood. Her fingers catch in the knotted fray of her dark hair. Her eyes sting with warm tears, but she refuses to show weakness and let them fall. For the first time since she had gotten her miraculous, she was scared, actually scared; terrified out of her mind, actually. Sure she'd had more than her fair share of close calls, but every time, casting Miraculous Ladybug had always turned everything back to normal, fixing everything, no matter how badly she'd managed to fuck up. But this time, it hadn't. Chat's wounds hadn't healed, if anything, they had gotten worse.
"Wh- What am I going to do?! Why- Why didn't it work?! H- How am I going to fix this?" She all but whispers, her voice broken as she stutters, words barely even forming on her lips. Her breath hitches as her eyes are met by Chat's sparkling emerald.
Her chest hurts. Her heart is thrumming against her ribcage, battering and battering against the barrier of bones. She's convinced it'll burst through her chest cavity any second now. Blood roars through her ears while anxiety and adrenaline flood and clog up her veins and cloud up her rational thoughts.
One thought echoes and carves into the crevices of her brain, etched into every nerve, making her knees go weak and making her blood run cold. It's my fault.
If she had been paying more attention, if she had reacted faster, if she had been a better partner, he wouldn't of had to shove her out of the way, he wouldn't of had to take the hit for her.
Seeing the pity in his eyes makes her stomach churn and feel heavy, knotting and twisting it with guilt. It's like someone had taken all of her vital organs and had plunged them into her stomach so they could corrode away into nothing more than sizzley goop.
"B- Bugaboo don't cry." Chat says meekly, stumbling as he attempts to pull himself up, outstretching a trembling hand to reach out and cup her face. He winces, letting out a yelp of pain, his arm pausing mid-reach as agony shoots up his lean frame. He instantly curls in on himself, sucking in a sharp breath, curse words knotted up in the back of his throat. Instinctively his hand falls to his abdomen, his teeth gnawing into his lips to distract himself from the white hot pain that seems to pulse through his chest. He feels sick to his stomach as his gloves become coated in garnet, the dark leather tainted and dripping off thick, sticky rivulets of crimson. He doesn't have the stomach to glance down at the wound himself, but he knows it's deep. He can feel the warmth and strength draining from his veins with each rushing drop of blood that oozes from his abdomen.
He squeezes his hands against the rift in his skin, pressure tight as he tries to conserve every drop of blood, but no matter how much he wills it to stop, the wound continues to gush garnet. He can feel it slipping through the cracks of his fingers, his very life essence seeping out of him with each passing second.
Glancing up through lidded eyes and gritted teeth, breaths conflicted and sharp, he scrunches up his face, trying to contain the pain that screams through every nerve. His eyes meet his partner's; stormy ocean blue, shimmering with something vulnerable and unfamiliar. He can tell she's trying to hold it together for his sake, but he knew her too well to not read between the lines of her 'steady' facade. He could easily read the concern that radiates from her, just by the ever-so-slight crease in her brows, and the way the corner of her lips were pulled into an uneasy frown.
"Don't worry, I'm fine M'lady. It's nothing a bandaid can't fix." The blond attempts, trying to keep his tone light and reassuring, a dopey smile forming across his lips.
Ladybug couldn't understand why there was no bitterness in his voice, or why he was still looking at her like she was only thing that mattered to him in the whole universe. The longer the silence between them drew out, the more and more she saw the expression slowly fade from his face, cat ears arching down as a somber, deflated look came across his features instead.
"H- How bad is it?" Chat finally manages, voice weak and breathy, as he looks to his partner with pleading eyes. Tentatively, he eases his hands off the wound, withholding the shudder that threatens to overtake him as pinpricks of pain jab into his side. He feels his stomach lurch into knots when he glances down at his gloves. The fabric is now soaked and dripping, almost as if it were alive itself and bleeding out.
Ladybug tries to stifle the gasp that hikes up from her lungs, eyes blown wide and pupils dilating in tenfold. She feels like she can't breathe, like oxygen was now a foreign currency to her body. She opens her mouth to say something, but she finds her words jumbled and caught in her throat; she's choking on them. She tries to meet his eyes, tries to focus on his face or anything other than the gut-churning reality of the gash in her partner's abdomen; but no matter how hard she tries, her eyes are still drawn right back to the wound in question.
It was worse than she had thought; so much worse. She purses her lips, biting on the bottom one in hopes it'll stop quivering. She can't help the nausea that quakes her stomach as the coppery, pungent, stench of blood in the air, only seems to be that much thicker.
The wound is deep. Around the puncture, a sharp, jagged slit of his skin had been ripped open, the leather around it torn to shreds.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. Her eyes feel raw, she doesn't how much longer she can hold back the floodgates. It's my fault, she can't help but think, teeth gritted and jaw clenched as she tries to stop her bottom lip from quivering.
She had had nightmares of this exact scenario before, but those hadn't been reality. Everything was finally weighing in on her that this was painfully real, and now, losing her partner, her best friend, her anchor; was also a very, very real seemingly impossible, possibility.
She knows she needs to stay strong. For him. But she can feel herself breaking and falling apart, more and more cracks tearing away at what little solid foundation she has left. She knows there's only so much more lying to his face she can do before she breaks. He's not okay. No matter how many times she spews that he's fine, that isn't going to change anything. There's only so much sugar coating she can do before the words start to taste sour on her lips.
"Chat I-" she pauses, her breath hitching as her bluebell eyes shift to the ground in shame. "I'm sorry!" She whimpers, tears freely flowing down her pale cheeks. "This was my fault. I never should've-"
"Hey, it's not your fault." Chat interjects. "It was my choice to protect you from that akuma attack. I don't regret anything." Removing one hand from his side that had been applying pressure to the injury, he meekly takes her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Managing a coy smile he then says playfully, "Besides, haven't you heard? Tear stains are out of season. They don't suit you." He adds gently with a genuine, warm smile, wiping the stray tears that linger from her eyes.
He lets out a nervous laugh, pursing his lips as his gloves accidentally smear blood onto her face, just below her eyes. "Sorry, I forgot." He says innocently, even holding back a laugh, as if it had just been something as simple as frosting, rather than his own blood. He didn't care what the circumstances were, as long as he was with her, everything was fine. Just being around her seemed to melt all of his problems away, even if it was just for the briefest of moments.
If it had been under different circumstances, she may have found his little ploy amusing, but it only seemed to make the pit in her stomach deeper. The urgency of the matter crashing back into the forefront of her mind, she pushes Chat's hand away and presses his palm over the wound.
"Keep pressure on it." She says firmly, snapping out of her panicked frenzy, shaking her head and clearing her thoughts. Her partner wasn't going to get any better with her being a being a sobbing mess that couldn't get her act together. He needed medical attention, pronto. "Can you walk?"
"Of course, I'm fine as long I'm with you M'lady." Chat says almost cockily, as he shoots her an arrogant smirk, a wink sprinkled somewhere into the mix. He manages to bring himself up into a standing position on wobbly legs, though his knees buckle under his weight, head swimming like someone had knocked him upside the head with a bat. Not even seconds after, he stumbles backwards and slides back down the brick wall, pain scrunched up on his face as his ragged breaths condense into the frigid air.
"You're losing a lot of blood." Ladybug murmurs, more to herself than to him, as she crouches down next to him. "Quick, what's your type? I'm gonna try and get you to a hospital."
"Wh- Hey, what are you-" Chat yelps embarrassed, cheeks burning red, a soft, warm, pink tinge spilling past the edges of his mask. His emerald eyes go wide as Ladybug snakes one of her arms under his legs, beginning to pick him up bridal style, holding his form close to her chest. He call feel his pride oozing straight though his fingertips. Heat tearing and corroding through his face, he averts his eyes from her's, voice dying in his throat.
"Your type?" Ladybug reminds again, a bit more urgency in her tone, as she leaps onto the next rooftop, holding onto him like her life depends on it.
"Hmm..." he lets out a sound of acknowledgement, as he seems to go deep into thought, muddling it over in his head. "Well...hair as dark as night, pretty bluebell eyes that shimmer like the ocean, polka dots-"
"BLOOD TYPE, Chaton."
"Oh." Chat glances down at his hands, turning them over, examining them. "Red."
The scarlet clad heroine lets out an annoyed sigh, and if she could, she'd pinch the bridge of her nose. Gosh, how much of an airhead was her mangy, alleycat of a partner?!
"I may not know my blood type, but I'm O positive, I'm attracted to you." Chat says slyly, the wide grin on his face making it evident how proud of himself he was for coming up with the pun.
"Not now Chat." Ladybug all but growls under her breath. She didn't understand how he could remain so carefree and laidback right now. She was everything but having a fucking panic attack—and she wasn't even the one who had been injured!
They both let out a small noise of surprise as Ladybug's earrings begin to chime, warning of her inevitable detransformation soon. Ladybug grits her teeth, cursing her miraculous for giving out now of all times. She nearly screams as another problematic issue screeches to a halt in the forefront of her brain. What were they going to do about Chat's identity? There was no way they could operate on him while he was still transformed, but they also couldn't risk revealing his alter ego either.
"Your earrings-" Chat starts, but cuts himself short, mid-sentence as his partner makes a sudden stomach-churning drop, landing raggedly onto a rooftop balcony. Ladybug nearly clips the edge and falls herself, having underestimated the distance between the two buildings. Her train of thought was racing a million miles a minute, pulse pounding up into her temples.
"Ah- shit..." The blond hisses in pain, immediately scrunching his eyes closed, white hot agony firing through his veins, the harsh jostle from the landing, practically sending his already-reeling head into vertigo. He nearly has the breath knocked out his lungs when to further the matter, Ladybug roughly sets him down, practically all but flat-out dropping him. "H- Hey! Where are you going?" The blond calls distraught, breath tangled up in his lungs as he sees the scarlet clad heroine dart off, his hands still desperately clutching his abdomen, the pain nearly making him sick to his stomach.
"This'll only take a second Kitty, I'll be right back, I promise." The bluenette calls over her shoulder, some of her inner anxiety manifesting itself with a waver in her voice.
Clawing her way over to the glass, screen door, she frantically pounds at it, hoping to god that someone's here. She continues to bang her fists against the glass with seemingly reckless abandon, occasionally stopping to cup her hands around her eyes so she can peer inside. Disheartened, and nearly turning to leave, Ladybug's caught off guard when the door is thrown open with a loud thud, and a sudden shrill voice erupts behind her; though as annoying at it was, Ladybug couldn't have been more relieved.
"Ladybug? It's about time! Do you know how long it's been since you've asked for Queen Bee's help-"
"Chloe, please, not right now." The bluenette all but begs.
The blonde girl immediately goes silent upon seeing the distress in the heroine's face, something in her eyes screaming that something was wrong. She could even hear the anxiety that was thickly laced into her tone. She also didn't miss the way Ladybug's hands were trembling, or how the girl's face was nearly as pale as a ghost's.
"Is that blood on your face? And on your hands?" Chloe asks slowly, a bit of fear and hesitation lingering in her tone as she points at Ladybug's hands. Her eyes drift from the slate haired girl's fingertips, up to her face. "Are you okay?" She asks, though she already knows the answer.
"It's Chat. He got hurt really badly by the last akuma we went against. I already cast my miraculous, b- but it didn't heal him. So please, I need your help." Ladybug blurts quickly, words tumbling out of her mouth faster than she can even process that she's saying them.
"Yes! Queen Bee is always at your service!" Chloe cries triumphantly, holding her hand out expectantly, waiting for her miraculous like a greedy child. Her fingers twitch in giddy anticipation. "You need another sidekick, right?" The girl dramatically tosses her ponytail over her shoulder, giving the dark haired girl a smug expression.
"Sidekick? He's not a sidekick, he's my partner- uh- wait, NO! That's not why I'm here." Ladybug cries a bit harshly, feeling pressed for time as her earrings give their final warning beeps. "I need your Chat Noir costume, and a change of clothes."
"Ooh I have this really cute blouse you can borrow!"
"NO! I mean, no, not for me, for Chat." Ladybug corrects herself hastily, her already dwindling patience stretched thin.
"I don't have anything that's gonna fit him." Chloe says shaking her head, brows creased, and eyes narrowed.
"C'mon you have to have something!" Ladybug all but demands, the desperation in her voice evident, the heroine wanting more than anything to just pull her own hair out. Trying to talk to Chloe was like talking to a brick wall.
"I mean, I might have something of Adrien's around here somewhere." The blonde says nonchalantly with a haphazard shrug; the statement a bit more open-ended than the bluenette would've liked.
"Please and thank you!" Ladybug calls as she quickly darts into another room, slamming her back against the door and locking it, just in the nick of time.
The room radiates in a flash of pink as her transformation releases, her kwami collapsing into her palms. "I'm sorry to push you like this Tikki, but it's an emergency." Marinette blurts apologetically as she rummages through her bag for a cookie. Fingers clasping around one, she quickly puts it in her kwami's hands. She feels a bit guilty, but she urges the little bug to eat faster as she paces in anticipation. She had so many questions she wanted to ask her Kwami; like had this situation ever happened to any previous miraculous holders? Had a previous Ladybug ever had a Miraculous Cure fail and not undo all the damage? Would Chat's Kwami feel the same repercussions Chat did? She frantically shook her head, taking a deep breath trying to clear some of the tension in her shoulders. She'd figure it out later, now wasn't the time or place.
After getting approval from her Kwami once the little bug had finished the pastry, Marinette called out, "Tikki, spots on!". And with another blinding, radiant, flash of pink, her alter ego re-emerged. Stepping out of the room, the dark haired girl scanned the area for Chloe, but the blonde was nowhere to be found.
She taps her foot impatiently, stealing constant glances at the clock tacked up onto the wall, the seconds ticking by so quickly, it was like literal granules of sand slipping through her fingers. Being able to hear each individual cog shift and click, did nothing to calm her nerves, only making it that much more apparent how much time she was wasting. Come on Chloe, she thinks irritatedly to herself.
What she knows only could have been a few mere minutes, feels like an eternity and a half. Without even thinking, she snatches the bundle of clothes from the blonde's hands the second Chloe returns from her closet. Chloe's left standing there stunned, as the scarlet clad heroine grabs everything from her hands and bolts. Grateful, Ladybug turns and shoots an apology over her shoulder, promising to give the girl something back in return for the major favor. Legs seemingly reimbursed with newfound drive and vigor, she runs towards the door leading to the balcony, the clothes bundled tightly in her arms.
The second she lays her eyes on Chat, she immediately feels an overwhelming wave of guilt wash over her, like someone had decided to toss a bunch of skipping stones in her stomach. It nearly stops her dead in her tracks. He looked so vulnerable and helpless; eyes clenched so tightly shut, it was as if he were trying to block out the very existence of the world around him. His normally, wild and fluffy hair, was wilted and limp against his forehead, clinging to his skin from sweat. His chest raggedly rose and fell, frigid air materializing as hazy puffs as his breath tainted it. It was as if just breathing, was a horrid, and troublesome task his body struggled to accomplish. In this moment, she couldn't get over now much he reminded her of an angel who had fallen from grace.
He flinches violently when she reaches out to touch him, muscles instantly jolting, and eyes flashing open. She can see the almost animalistic terror that graces his serpent green irises, the few seconds it takes for him to readjust and process what's going on. His clouded mind and half-lidded and unfocused eyes, taking just a fragment too long, in recognizing it's her.
In this brief moment where she had caught him with his guard down—without that dopey smile, without that almost too-cheery attitude, without that confidence and cockiness that radiated he was on top of the world—Ladybug saw something. For just a flicker of a second, she saw something broken from beneath the mask he always wore, an almost longing, hollowness that resonated much deeper than the skin. This brief crack of vulnerability, with the way his muscles spasmed at her gentle touch, the way his feline ears had swiveled back instantaneously, the way he had froze up in fear; staring at her like a deer caught in headlights, the way his hands had instantly flung up in front of his face as he curled in on himself.
She almost flinches backwards herself, drawing her hand back as if she'd grazed the edge of a hot stove. Her brows can't help but furrow at his out-of-place reaction, time seemingly stilled as she tries to process what exactly had just happened. Maybe she was reading into it too much. Maybe it was just her over-bearing anxiety nipping at her thoughts. Maybe it was just the cautious, caring, Marinette side of her that was trying to make something out of nothing. But it felt like there was something else going on, something else he hadn't been telling her, something more than just the pain from his injury.
"Easy, it's me, Chaton." Ladybug coos gently, trying again, as she brushes his bangs away from his face. Careful not to shift or shake him too much, she picks him back up in her arms, still just as surprised as the first time, at how light his lean, yet muscular form is. She can feel him shivering in her arms, every one of his muscles quivering from the cold.
"Oh, L.B.," Chat Noir says, perking up a bit as he peers up at her, though there's still something solemn that lingers in the tone of his voice. "I was beginning to think you were going to leave me in a cardboard box for someone else to find."
She winces at his words even though she knows he's only kidding. "I could never do that to you Chat, you may be a mangy alleycat, but you're my stray Kitty. So I'm gonna take care of you. I'm not gonna let anything else happen to you."
I'm not going to let anything else happen to you, she repeats again to herself, engraving it into her heart to make sure something like this will never happen again. She couldn't believe it had taken her this long to realize just how many times Chat had taken hits for her, just how many times he had taken the fall so she wouldn't have to; she couldn't believe it had taken something of this caliber to open her eyes for God's sake!
Nearly out of breath, lungs huffing and puffing like she were on the bout of an asthma attack, she just barely, manages to skid to a stop before reaching the entrance of the hospital, underestimating the reaction time of the automated doors.
"Hello, can I help you-" The receptionist begins in a perky tone, but is caught off guard as Ladybug dashes past her desk without a second glance, motion swooshing the paper's straight off her desk and sending them flying. "Ack- Hey! You can't just-"
"Sorry! It's an emergency!" Ladybug calls over her shoulder flustered.
A small noise of surprise escapes her mouth when she hears Chat laughing, feeling his chest and his stomach shake gently in her arms, a grin stretching across his face like a drawn back rubber band. "M'lady did you see her face a-and the papers!" He says, a soft joyous laugh of warmth spilling deep from his sternum, his arms briefly coming up to wave all around them to simulate the papers. She can't stop the brief smile that graces her lips. Hearing his laugh was like seeing a pinprick of light shining in the darkness.
She hooks a sharp right, dashing down a wide corridor with dozens of rooms lining either side. She scans each one as she passes, hoping to find an empty one. Nearly running past it, and having to backtrack, she finally finds one, at room 124. Closing the thick, beyond-heavy door behind her and clicking the lock into place, she carefully sets her partner down on the edge of one of the beds, gingerly handing him the bundle of spare clothes.
"Change into these so it's easier for the surgeons to operate on you, and so we don't risk anyone finding out your identity—also so you don't risk hurting your Kwami by staying transformed for such a long state." She starts, beginning to unfold the fabric and lay each individual piece of clothing out on the bed, not even looking up at Chat once as she spoke.
"I don't mind if you know, M'lady." Chat chimes weakly, cracking that stupid dopey grin of his again. The scarlet clad heroine can't help but roll her eyes. "Don'tcha wanna know who your charming devil-of-a-partner is behind this mask?" He continues, voice charismatic and silky-sweet as he forms a 'picture frame' with his gloved fingers, framing his eyes as he winks at her, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.
"Devil is right." She mutters under her breath, just quiet enough Chat doesn't catch it. She can't help but pinch the bridge of her nose.
She wants to scream at him, to tell him to get his shit together, to take this seriously, to quit playing around considering how much is at stake right now.
In...Out...In...Out. She takes several deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves, trying to stop the jittering of her fingers, trying to stop the way worse-case-scenarios are crashing through her mind like a derailed freight train.
She's scared to death that her partner's gonna die right in front of her eyes; that he's just gonna keel over any second now; because the longer they spend talking, the worse his wound is going to get, and that's more and more time that they're not gonna get back.
"We can't know each other's identities." She says firmly, looking into his tired, serpent green eyes. "You know that."
She knows she shouldn't take out her own muddled fear and anger on him. She knows she has no right to snap at him. She knows deep down he has to be fucking terrified—hell, she can feel her own heart thrashing against her ribcage like her heart's running a fucking marathon. She knows this is just a facade to help keep himself calm. She knows it's just his way of dealing with the situation, cracking jokes and flirting with her—keeping himself grounded, giving himself something to focus on to keep from letting his panic run rampant. She knows! But that doesn't stop her brain from running on autopilot.
"Why not? Who cares!" Chat pouts, voice full of hurt. "It can be a secret, just between the two of us."
"You know why Chaton," Ladybug says a bit solemnly as she reaches up to caress his cheek, though there's a certain emotionlessness to her tone and her gesture, as if she's had to rinse and repeat this very scenario hundreds of times before. She can't help but purse her lips as she feels Chat pull away from her.
"Will you be able to stand and change on your own?" Ladybug asks, concern and worry laced on her face as she eyes his wound again, noticing the surrounding skin has formed a swelled lump around the puncture and is saturated thickly in blood. She swallows thickly, feeling a bit faint just looking at it. It's bound to feel like dozens of knives rippling up his nerves.
"I'll be fine." Chat says a bit moodily, cat ears drawn back, as he uses his hands to push himself off the edge of the bed. He wobbles as he's brought to his feet, having to quickly clamp a hand at his mouth to stop from losing the contents of his stomach. He can't help the wave of vertigo that suddenly crashes down on him, causing him to stagger backwards into the frame of the bed with a thud. "I'm f-fine," he repeats, his own words sounding garbled in his head.
Regaining a normal, conscious-aware state of mind for just a fraction of a second, he thinks to close the room divider curtain, and with that, he hastily yanks on the fabric, bringing forth a wall between himself and his partner.
Ladybug can't help but feel a bit guilty for how harsh and stern she had been with him. He was hurting and wasn't in the right state of mind, she should've just played along with his little charade for a bit. It wasn't like he was going to remember much of this after all of the anesthesia anyway. She chews her bottom lip in worry as she watches the lanky silhouette of her partner through the curtain.
"Claws...claws out." Chat calls out weakly, having to search his muddled mind for the right vocal cue.
With a bright flash of blinding green illuminating the room as his transformation releases, Adrien nearly topples to the floor like a rag doll, feeling like someone had taken a vacuum and sucked the very life out of him. What had only been a downpour of pain, had suddenly surged into a raging tsunami; pure white, hot, agony washing over him the second he had released his transformation, amplifying its strength by thousands of measures.
His legs were so unsteady and wobbling so badly, it was a wonder he didn't trigger an earthquake. His knees buckle beneath his weight, so without even thinking, he falls back against the bed, struggling to breath, lungs refusing to cooperate, and his eyes feeling like any second now, they'd pop out of his skull with how rapidly his heart was pounding up into his ears and vibrating up into his temples. Each and every individual nerve entangled up through his guts and connected to his spinal cord, is screaming bloody murder at him.
"S- Shit." He chokes, lunging forward to catch his kwami; his senses are dulled and his ears are ringing, and he's having trouble trying to get his body to react the way he wants it to; but somehow, he manages to catch the little black ball of fur in his hands, though he tumbles to the floor himself in the process. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, desperately trying to suppress the cry of pain that threatens to spew from his lips.
He cups Plagg's small form in the palms of his hands, taking his thumbs and stroking the kwami's soft fur. Plagg feels warm in his hands, the dull vibrations of purring shooting up through his fingertips. He holds the small cat against his chest, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, thankful he can feel the kwami's rhythmic breathing brushing in and out.
"Sorry Plagg." Adrien whispers, gentle breath blowing each strand of fur on the kwami's back. "Didn't mean to drag you into my reckless actions too."
"Don't worry Kid, we're in this together. You did good." Plagg husks back weakly. "I just need a nap and some camembert..." he trails off, falling unconscious in the blond's hands, curling up into a tight ball of floof.
"In- In this together." The blond murmurs aloud, tasting the coopery tang of blood in the back of his throat. Edges of his vision corroded in darkness, and fingers going numb, he pitifully struggles to pull himself back up onto his feet. His arms quiver from the tension as he puts all of his weight into his wrists, the bones and muscles in his legs having seemingly melted into mush. With limp, flimsy arms, seemingly having the weight of lead, with one hand he manages to slip on the Chat Noir mask and ears Ladybug had borrowed from Chloe. He was running off the fumes of what had been pure adrenaline; the thin trickle of energy surging through his veins, the only thing keeping him going right now.
He begins to edge up the hem of his shirt to change into the hoodie Ladybug had given him, but nearly finds himself sick when the fabric of his shirt clings, seemingly merged to his skin due to the saturation of blood. Biting the inside of his cheek and clenching his eyes shut to keep from looking at the wound in question, with one quick, swift, motion—like ripping off a bandaid—he slides the shirt up, off over his head, and carelessly tosses it to the ground. A shudder traces all the way up his spine, almost like a bad omen whispering his name.
His body was on its last leg, fighting to keep him conscious, and fighting to keep blood and oxygen pumping through him. His stomach felt like it was on fire, and his lower abdomen throbbed with every pounding heartbeat. He cups his hands over the gaping gash in his lower flank, sucking in a sharp breath when he feels sticky warmth seeping through his fingers. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, harder and harder to push his body to keep going when it was already over it's limit, harder and harder to keep the agony at bay, harder and harder to fight off the ebbing darkness that called him to sleep.
"M'Lady-" He wheezes, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. One hand outstretched, the other desperately clasped around his flank, he takes one final lunge forward towards the divider curtain before collapsing onto the floor, curling into himself, breathing harsh and ragged, beads of sweat dripping from the sides of his face.
Ladybug flinches back violently when a bloody handprint suddenly trails down the off-white curtain, ivory fabric instantly stripped of its innocence with the stain of wet crimson. The cataclysmic crash that accompanies it a few seconds later nearly has her crawling out of her skin.
"C- CHAT!" She cries hysteric, nearly diving on her knees to get to her partner, pulse increasing tenfold as her heart pounds against her ribcage like a sledgehammer. She rips open the curtain in desperation, nearly tearing the fabric down from the hooks that uphold it.
The second she lays eyes on her partner, she's convinced she somehow swallowed a whole-ass fucking watermelon in the span of 3 seconds with the weight that's settled in her stomach. She feels like she's just taken a sucker punch to the gut. His face is ghastly pale and drenched in sweat, hair fastened limply to his forehead and pain etched into every muscle of his face. A thin rivulet of garnet dribbles from the corner of his parted lips, like a rose blossoming from crisp snow. She almost could've swore up and down that someone had taken a vacuum and sucked the very essence out of her partner. The cat ears fastened in his golden hair are crooked and askew, just like her frazzled state of mind.
Tremors wrack her hands, shaking in sharp jerks as her pupils are blown wide, heart pounding faster and faster up into her ears. She begins to hyperventilate, breathing getting shallower and shallower as her hands grip the sides of her face.
Fuck. She didn't know what to do. Even though he'd just changed into it, blood was already seeping through the hoodie, leaving a growing dark, splotchy patch onto the maroon fabric. She was just a normal—well almost normal—teenager for crying out loud. A clumsy dork who'd lose her head if it wasn't attached to her; someone who slept through alarms and couldn't even make it to class on time if she were left to her own devices; someone who was a flustered, indecisive, train wreck. She couldn't even properly confess her feelings to boy she loved—or for that matter, even decide who she actually liked. She wasn't supposed to have to make decisions like this. She wasn't supposed to have the people she cared about suffer like this. She wasn't supposed have to handle everything on her own. She'd been thrown into the role of Ladybug. She didn't get a guidebook for dummies™ on all of the responsibilities that came with being a superhero, she didn't get an instruction manual or a step-by-step how-to on what to do. She wasn't trained or equipped to deal with situations like this, she had grew up kneading bread and absentmindedly burning her fingers on too-hot baking sheets for god's sake! Not how to make quick, rational life-or-death decisions; not how to ignore her fear and get over herself; not how to stay calm and grounded even in the worst of scenarios.
"Fuck," she breathes. Frantically shaking her head, she slaps her hands against her cheeks as hard as she can. "SNAP OUT OF IT!" She cried. Her skin stings with a dull rhythm of pain, handprints glowing almost as red as her suit are imprinted across her cheekbones. She absolutely could not panic. She bites down hard onto her lips until she tastes blood. She needed to get a grip. Chat needed her now more than ever. He trusted her with his heart and his soul, and was counting on her with every fiber of his being. His Kwami too, was relying on her to protect his charge.
Letting out a sharp breath, she decompresses some of the tension in her shoulders. Getting back in control of herself, she hoists Chat up into her arms and carefully stows Plagg's small form into a pouch on her side.
She runs down the pristine white hallways, head jerking so frantically back and forth as she looked for a doctor or a nurse, it was wonder she didn't get whiplash. "Please! Someone! We need help!" She yells in anguish, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. "SOMEONE, ANYONE, PLEASE!" She cries out in desperation. Like seeing water in an oasis in a scorching desert, Marinette can't explain the relief that pours through her veins when she spots a man with a long, trailing white coat, violet latex gloves adorned on his hands.
"Sir!" She yells, panting raggedly as she plants herself to a stop in front of him. "It's M- My partner- Chat- He-" She rasps quickly between breaths, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stumbles over her words, mind racing five times faster than her mouth, lips unable to keep up. It's like her words are all caught up in her throat like she'd swallowed her tongue and forgotten how to speak.
With one glance down at the unconscious boy limp in Ladybug's arms, the doctor immediately rushes over to a nurse, face stern as he barks out orders at her. Within seconds, Ladybug hears that same nurse chime over the intercom, "CODE BLUE! Incoming priority patient, west wing, oncology ward."
"I need a gurney stat!" The doctor orders. "He'll need a blood transfusion and an IV drip pronto! Go ahead and get the anesthesia ready and prepare an analgesic injection with naproxen to limit inflammation in his lower abdominal region. Someone page Dr. Anaheim, he needs immediate medical attention and requires surgical care ASAP!"
Ladybug's head is spinning as she tries to keep up with all of the medical terminology the doctor spews out. In some instances he may as well of been speaking a foreign language to her. The next thing she knows, Chat's ripped from her arms and haphazardly thrown into and strapped down to a gurney, and within seconds he's vanished down the long corridor, a team of doctors sprinting the cart down to the operating room. She can't help but feel as if they'd also ripped out a piece of her when they'd taken him away from her. Her chest hurts and aches, blame and guilt oozing through every cell of her body.
She stands there for a moment, still, almost paralyzed. It had all happened so fast, she can't process what exactly had just happened. She looks down at her hands; they're trembling so badly it's as if she's in an etch-a-sketch and someone's trying shake the box to erase her. She swallows thickly, a sob getting hitched in her throat as she turns her hands over and looks at the blood that stains them. His blood. Floodgates wide open, tears freely stream down her face, ebbing from her melancholy bluebell eyes. Her bottom lip quivers as she falls to her knees, hands furiously swiping at her eyes trying to wipe away the tears. She was making a scene. She was supposed to be strong and invulnerable to everyday civilians, she was supposed to be a beacon of hope who never faltered—but she couldn't stop herself. No matter how hard she willed herself to stop crying, to get up off the floor, the more tears that seemed to trail down her face, and the heavier her legs seemed to become. People were beginning to stare. Right now more than anything, she wished she wasn't put on such a high pedestal, because after all, no matter how much people idolized her, behind the mask, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she was just an ordinary girl. There was only so much emotional trauma she could take. She was only human after all.
"Chat Noir, I'm sorry." She hiccups between ugly sobs, face buried in her guilt and her blood-stained gloves.
A/N: So basically, this was just an angsty fic idea that I impulsively wrote tbh. Part of this was inspired from a tumblr post lol. I think I'll probably continue this and make it a multi-chapter. Please lmk if you guys would be interested in seeing more?
Also, shameless plug because why not?—-follow my insta candycravingdemon