Twenty-Three: Sobering Reality Check

Author's Note: Having unwittingly locked Ladybug in a closet and consequently seriously injuring his ankle, Chat finds himself shorthanded against a Halloween-themed akuma.

Frustrated that I still couldn't reach Ladybug, I snapped my baton into halves and hurled them at the onrushing ghost-like creatures. Predictably, they simply parted around the weapons as they carved a pathway through the room. I wasn't particularly hoping to disable any; instead, it was more of a distraction tactic, allowing me to scrabble my way across the industrial linoleum toward a massive mixer. Not entirely sure what I might do with said mixer, I leaned a shoulder into it and managed to move the bowl off its base, grimacing with the effort against my bad ankle.

I captured the halves of the baton as they returned to my waiting paws and reconnected them, then extended it enough to push myself into a stand. Planting myself firmly and ignoring the shockwaves as they reverberated through what I now knew was broken ankle, I gripped both sides to the massive silver bowl and decided a bit of physicality was in order. Growling with a mixture of frustration and pain, I hoisted the bowl with my super strength and sent it sailing through the air, using my feline hearing to time the toss just as the Wicked Witch burst through double doors.

Not waiting to see if I was even remotely successful, I quickly extended the baton again, rising to the ceiling. My bowl hit its mark with a resoundingly satisfactory thud, and the Witch screamed in anger as she fell to the floor in a heap of wicker and fabric. Fortunately for this overgrown cat, there was a well-built HVAC hood over the space; as the Witch tried to regain her footing, I extended the baton even further to push myself through the grill an into the duct above.

Using my claws, I hauled myself over the edge of the perpendicular connecting duct and then crawled on paws and knees away from what was left of the grill as fast as I could. I'd just rounded the corner of a T-intersection when the Wicked Witch appeared in the space, hovering on her broom. Cackling wildly, she tossed some of that innocent looking but insanely dangerous candy corn at me; it scattered along the metallic walls, reverberating through the space.

For once, I was at a loss for puns, my entire focus on getting as far away from danger as I could. My ears were flattened against my mane, frantic masked eyes making the most of my night vision in an attempt to escape. Another T-intersection appeared, and I paused for a fraction of a second before darting left; the floor to the right exploded as the Witch again appeared, having come up from a room below. Pulse pounding, I tried to listen again as I moved as fast as my injured ankle would allow. Another right, another left, and I was pretty sure I'd put some distance between me and the kitchen.

Witch surprised me one more time, having somehow gotten to a room at the same level as the duct and bursting in through a grill a moment after I'd skittered past her. I tried hard to ignore how confining the space was, focusing instead on the steady increase in what was outside air, replacing the very smoky smell trailing me from behind.

Turning one last corner, I encountered the fan for this level, which had direct access to an alleyway behind Le Grand Hotel. The massive blades were still turning, albeit slowly, but fast enough that they would easily slice me in half without a second thought in a really bad version of an Indiana Jones -style temple booby trap. Using my claws, I frantically peeled back the grill that was protecting the fan from the inside, then leveraged my baton between two blades to seize up the motor. While the engine started to overheat, smoking and sparking in protest, I went to work on the exterior grill with my claws, hoping beyond hope that the Wicked Witch hadn't gained access to the plans of the hotel and had guessed my exit. Claws, then boots, then claws again, but my progress was agonizingly slow, and with my ankle, agonizingly painful.

Just as I thought my trusty baton was about to give up the ghost (pun intended), the exterior grill gave way and I slid through in a quick motion, grabbing my baton as I exited. I tried to extend it to gracefully reach the concrete but mistimed it, landing will full force on my ankle.

My vision went white, then stars, then black for a moment as I keeled over into a fetal position, curling around the injury. It took every ounce of willpower I had left not to mewl miserably and sob with the pain. When my vision cleared, I could see the ankle was no longer remotely viable; fortunately, the compression of my costume (and the magically infinite flexibility it also had) seemed to be keeping the fracture splinted and the swelling reasonable. But even the fact that I could tell it was misshapen was a bad sign, even with my quick healing abilities.

At that particular moment, my baton chirped.

Sliding it into phone mode, and grinding my teeth against the throbbing pain, I saw my partner. She was clearly running from somewhere. "Chat! Where are you?"

"Alley…" I said. "Behind the… hotel," I added, each word a fight against the blinding pain.

"Can you move?"

"No," and this time I did mewl. "I'm a sitting… cat…" I replied. "I'm sorry."

She may have replied, but my world blacked out again. When I returned to some semblance on sentience, I was staring at the stars, my back on the tiles of a roof. A vaguely fox-like face appeared, and it occurred to me that I should know who it was.

"Chat?"

"Rena," I said. "How long…?" I got out before groaning again.

"Just a few minutes," she said, lifting my head up slightly. "LB is down there with Viperion, Cap and Pegasus," she said, and the worry in her expression told me it wasn't going well. "I drew the short straw," Rena added, trying for humor.

"Sorry," I smiled. "Cats are needy by – oh, damn, that hurts," I mewled again.

"I don't doubt it," she said. "Your costume is keeping it more or less stabilized, but we need to get you to a doctor."

I rolled my eyes. "Not really an option for a superhero," I managed to get out before squeezing my eyes against the pain and letting the world go away again.

This time I came back partially a few times, catching snatches of conversation. I was reasonably sure that Ladybug and the rest of the crew had returned, which should have indicated they'd defeated the akuma; fading out again, though I wasn't entirely sure if that was true or not. I woke with a start when someone put their hands on my ankle, the searing white pain enough to shoot me through with adrenaline. I may or may not have also sworn in several languages simultaneously.

"Chat," Ladybug said. "Are you with me?"

In a haze, I could see she was beside me, cradling my head in her arms. I nodded. "Yes, Milady," I said weakly. "I made a mess of this."

"Parts," she smiled softly. "But not all. You cleared the building and got everyone to safety. That's quite a feat for anyone with two working ankles."

"Still—"

"Hush and listen to me," she said urgently; I picked up the urgent chirping of her earrings as she continued. "I still need to call the Miraculous Cure, but I'm not certain it will repair your ankle. It should since it happened as a result of the akuma, but if it doesn't, I'm going to have to take you to that doctor we know. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"I'm going to need help getting you there, so Viperion and Cap are recharging their kwamis now. We don't have a choice, we'll need to go en masse."

"She'll be… okay with it," I said.

Gently, Ladybug brushed back a sweaty lock of my wild mane. My costume generally regulated my body temperature, so it was another sign of extremes; this night had been full of new experiences. "Here we go."

I nodded again.

"Miraculous Ladybug!" she cried as she tossed what looked like trick-or-treat bag into the air. The night sky burst into red-and-white light, and her millions of helpers swarmed the city, including no little amount that encircled my injured ankle.

I could feel a bit of a weird tingling that became insistent and intense; for a brief moment, a massive jolt of pain hit me like a ton of bricks, causing the world to go away once more. This time I was definitely out for a longer period, for when I awoke, I was in my own bed back at the apartment.

Blinking, I realized it was still night and still dark; I could smell the odd but strangely purrfect perfume Marinette had worn for years now and shifted slightly to see she was curled up against a pillow facing me. "Princess?" I asked quietly.

Her eyes popped open immediately, and she reached back to turn on the light on the nightstand. Sitting up, she smiled warmly. "Feeling better?" she asked.

Doing a bit of a mental and physical inventory, I realized the insane pain had receded to a dull ache; gingerly, I tried to swivel my ankle and only felt a vague twinge – the only remnant that it had been injured, really. "Much," I said, a bit amazed. "It feels a bit tender, though." I looked back at my girlfriend. "How…?"

"Ladybug," she said simply. "She was here when I got back from the hotel. I was going nuts when you weren't answering your baton," she said pointedly, "so I just about hit the floor when I saw her in the living room. I assumed it was really bad news."

My eyes widened. "Oh, Mari – I had no way to tell you—"

"I know," she said, "she told me everything. It took both her and Viperion to get you back to the apartment, and then she stayed behind to keep watch over you until I returned."

I pulled her close, feeling tears nipping at my eyes. "I am sorry," I said. "I guess this is the closest we've come yet to the worst-case scenario, given my superhero gig."

"Too close, if you ask me," she said, putting her head into my chest. "I'm not sure I'd like a repeat of this. Anytime. Ever. Again."

I stroked her hair, still somewhat amazed that Ladybug had managed to both fix my ankle and assuage my girlfriend's worst fears. "We did talk about this," I said gently. "Until my time is done as Chat, there is a real possibility I might vault out into the night and never return."

"I know," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric on my chest. "I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I committed to this relationship." Marinette looked up. "And for the record, I've not changed my mind."

"Good," I said, purring slightly. "Because I'm not intending to give up being Chat anytime soon."

"That is a truism if I've ever heard one," she chuckled. "Nor would I want you to give it up."

I thought for a long moment, then added, "I would give it up. For you."

She pushed back from my chest. "What?"

"Being Chat. If I had to choose between being Chat and being in love with you?" I ran a claw through her hair. "You'd win. Every time."

The look of shock on her face had me a bit worried. "You'd do that? Seriously? Give up all that Chat gives you?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"Wow," she said as she settled back into my chest. "Well, the good news is, I like you in black spandex."

I rolled my eyes. "For the millionth time—"

"I know," she laughed, "but my point is, I won't make you choose. Ever." She looked at me, those deep blue eyes blazing with love. "If you give up being a superhero, it will be for another reason entirely – especially given how Chat is such a part of who you are."

"It's me either way," I replied. "I'm just more me with the mask and feline ears."

"And insanely cute with them, too," she laughed. Waiting for a beat, she added playfully, "Not that I would mind leaving the worry behind."

"I know," I said as I pulled her close to me again. "Me, too."