A/N: I KNOW, IT'S A LOT OF ANGST TO START OFF WITH. i promise there are lighthearted scenes to come eventually! thanks to everyone who has taken the time to write a review, it's much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

iii.
irréprochable

Non, nous sommes tous à blâmer.

What a situation this was.

Forcing herself to dismiss her guilt at the sound of his laugh, she irrigated the gash with the cold solution. Chat Noir sucked in a sharp breath.

Thankfully, it didn't hurt as badly as he had expected. He would have to find a way to sneak a suture kit into his room. It would certainly make treatment easier if he didn't have to use rubbing alcohol. Marinette was cautious and attentive as she cleared away blood, small pieces of dead skin and torn leather from the area.

As Ladybug, she knew that her Miraculous extended her pain tolerance as well as healing abilities. Not by much, but enough that she was aware that any normal boy would likely be doubled over and sniffling.

"I'm sorry." She cast a sympathetic gaze over the cat once his wound was cleaned. He shrugged the opposite shoulder, trying to give her a reassuring look, though he was unsure of how well it came off with pain mixed in. Noting this, Marinette only felt more at fault; she wanted to reach out, ruffle his hair, cup his cheeks in her palms and assure him again that he would be okay, but the bluenette didn't think she had the capability to brush him off with such useless words of comfort.

Wiping the blood from her hands, she reached for the scissors she had washed earlier and mumbled, "I need to prepare the edges for stitching. Try not to move, ouais…?"

It still hurt, [such was the fate of an open wound], but the superhero nodded and gripped at the edges of the tub. He was already braced for pain, and he didn't want to unwind just to rewind again and, well, talking while gagged wasn't very charming. He sighed at the sight of those scissors, trying to not dig claws into porcelain.

He had no interest in making this harder for himself and if he had to be still, then he'd be still.

Marinette snipped away the jagged parts of his skin, careful not to make the opening even worse. In her concentration, she leaned close and gently peeled the edges of his wound apart to make sure they were even for stitching. Chat Noir hunched his shoulders, knuckles white from his grasp on the tub, though he kept his abdomen still. He didn't flinch or jerk away. At the very least when he was given a task, he followed through on it. He just closed his eyes and remained silent.

With Chat Noir calm and unmoving, save for his heavy breathing and twitching hands, Marinette took this opportunity to finish the job.

"You okay?"

She didn't expect him to answer her either, aware that it was difficult to speak in his current condition.

"Mm—" Even with the makeshift gag, he couldn't repress all the noise. What had been quiet whines were now more agonized, if aborted, sounded. Sadly, there would be shallow marks in the tub from his claws as he fought to keep still. At least some of the distress could come out with his tail safely. He still wasn't sure how that worked, but it seemed to react to his emotions and it helped. In a strange way.

He took about half a minute to relax before straightening up for the rest of the treatment. All excess blood was wiped away and now with his wound neatly trimmed, she wasted no time in slipping the non-absorbable suture material into the needle provided. Marinette held her breath, brow furrowed as she began to stitch the edges of his skin together. Using some kind of modified sewing method … skin wasn't nearly as easy to puncture as fabric.

She didn't want to put him any unnecessary pain. "I'm... doing this wrong, aren't I?"

Chat Noir whined and lifted a hand to remove the glove from this mouth. "It… It has to be deep enough the skin won't tear, but a-as close to the edge as you can manage. I can… do the first stitch so you can see how far it is… just… kind of need a minute to steady my hand."

Her eyes shifted only briefly from his injury to the cat in question. There were indentations in the tub from where he had been sinking his claws, and the blonde looked terribly dizzy, disoriented.

Marinette felt terrible.

What could she do? Again, the guilt returned at full force. She'd never meant for any of this to happen.

Even though Chat was the one in agonizing pain, the girl finally felt her own eyes well up and vision grow blurry. [But she couldn't cry, not when he wasn't, not when she had an important task to finish and not when he was depending on her for help.]

And, really, he wanted to. But, he was fighting onto his control with every fiber of his being, pulling on everything that let him push through exhaustion and pain and mask to keep some sort of composure.

He could see how it was tearing Marinette apart. Of course, he could. It was plain as day that she cared about people and seeing him in such pain had to be eating her up inside.

With a quiet whimper, Marinette drew her left hand up to her face and used her forearm to quickly wipe any traces of emotional distress, the tears that threatened to spill. "Ah, alright," she muttered and dropped her gaze down to the gash on his side. At least the bleeding had slowed.

Heeding Chat Noir's advice while still holding the needle, the girl refrained from making another stitch and decided to wait until he was ready to show her the proper technique. She reached out to hold the hand he was attempting to steady, squeezing his palm gently and avoiding all eye contact.

He hummed in response, taking deep, gulping breaths, trying to calm himself down again. Clinging to her hand and having just enough presence of mind to not actually bruise her, he attempted to find his voice again. "You are… doing quite well, Princess.~ For your first time!"

Anything to help ease the thickness of this air. "This isn't easy. Especially when you haven't prepared for it ahead of time."

His grip on her was beginning to hurt, but it was nothing compared the lump in her throat and the ache in her chest. At his kind words, Marinette couldn't help herself—and a few tears finally rolled down her cheeks. With both hands occupied, she sniffled noisily and ducked her head, using her shoulder and upper arm to dry her eyes. "Silly cat..." Her tone held no malice, no annoyance, and no exasperation. "You should have been more careful."

Chat Noir slumped forward as he let the tension melt out of his body, the sight of her tears sending his mind in a spin. He'd need to let it out if he was going to be able to start the stitches. The tautness would be back soon enough, but he would just deal with the knots in his body later. "Yes, I know. I have to remember just because someone isn't Akumatized, it doesn't make them any less dangerous," he said, exhaustion creeping into his tone.

Marinette knew it wasn't his fault. There had been muggers and who in their right mind tries to get shot? None of this had been caused due to carelessness on his part. "—And Ladybug should have been with you," she murmured without thought, as though seeking to put some of the blame on the superheroine. In all honesty, she was chastising herself, but Chat Noir couldn't have known that.

He frowned at this. "Ladybug has a life. One that she values dearly and demands her attention when she can give it."

And he may not know much about her personally, but the fact she wanted to keep her hero life and her normal life so separate implied she had something to lose. That it was important to her to keep it as safe as possible, to not risk even telling her partner. "The mugger and myself are the only ones to blame for my getting hurt." Perhaps it was due to the stress on his body, he had let more slip than he intended as he added, "If I had been smarter, I wouldn't have gone out alone, but I'm the one who prefers to be in the mask."

Just as Chat Noir knew little about Ladybug out of costume, Marinette couldn't help but wonder about him – what kind of person was he? Behind the mask, flashy behavior, dumb puns. There may have been someone just as ordinary as herself, with a life he valued all the same… No?

"I… guess you're right."

"I am right. Being a superhero isn't a game, as much as we may joke and be charming. There are certain risks involved. I accepted those when I decided to be Chat Noir. I-I can't be afraid to take the hit."

It was a lot more firm than when he usually transformed, but the last thing he wanted was for Marinette to doubt him or his Lady. "For example, I got shot and decided to do parkour anyway…"

She hardly needed to be told that being a superhero was serious business. Marinette knew all too well what Chat Noir meant and for a moment, she wondered if she'd had actually caused him to become upset for putting this on Ladybug. It just went to show how much the blonde cared for her alter-ego; some combination of warmth and uneasiness settling in her stomach.

"Yeah, probably not one of your best moves. You could have gotten even more injured leaping and vaulting around!" Instead, he'd landed on her balcony and call it fate but Marinette had been there to help at the moment's notice.

"I, um, may have panicked a bit… I see in the dark. How did I not notice him?"

It was a lot different, getting hit by some ridiculous magical weapon and getting hit by a bullet. He had just wanted to get home and patched up and curl up in a ball of pain until sleep took him. "Really, I'm kind of glad My Lady didn't see me blunder. She has ways of making me feel like a kitten when she's worried."

Marinette couldn't help but laugh brokenly when he admitted this. The other was a little endearing when he wasn't putting up a front to appear super cool around her all the time.

However assumptions were not safe and she understood that if he was, 'the one who prefers to be in the mask,' there must have been much more to his situation. He sounded so tired. Marinette relaxed, her quiet sniffles dissipating into slow breaths. By now, she felt a little more assured.

Chat Noir didn't blame Ladybug, and it was enough to draw her attention back to the more serious matter at hand. Her knees ached from kneeling on the tile for so long and as the blonde's body seemed to loll forward, she moved closer so that he could lean his uninjured half against hers. Propping her chin on the cat's shoulder, Marinette remained silent as he took his time in calming down.

Eventually, she spoke up, gently squeezing his hand in her own again. "How do you feel?"

He sighed and checked the knot of the thread as he leaned against her.

"Fine. I can show you now, I think."

"Show me," she requested softly, angling her body away so that Chat Noir could get a firm grip of the needle in her other hand. Until they finished patching him up, she wouldn't allow herself to feel completely relieved or drop her guard.

The superhero bit down on the leather glove again before taking the needle. He gritted his teeth while stabbing the needle into his skin—one stitch, two stitches, showing how much skin was necessary to keep from tearing later. He offered the needle to her, making a questioning noise to see if that was enough.

She nodded calmly, putting all her focus into stitching him up properly. Marinette mirrored his technique thoroughly and slowly, which meant that Chat Noir was to try and endure it for the time being. She knew he must be drained but if he could stay with her a little longer…

"Almost done."

"Hmm." Chat Noir did his best to remain cooperative; it was a bit harder with someone else doing the stitches since he couldn't prepare for the stab. But he endured the touch, clenching his jaw. The glove was probably ruined. It was a good thing that magic provided the suit.

Marinette had made a few more stitches before knotting the suture material and trimming away the rest. "There—"

Pulling away to observe the handiwork, she released a deep sigh and began to clean up. At hearing this, Chat Noir allowed himself to slump over completely, slipping off the edge of the tub to the far more stable floor. His head tipped back against the tub with a soft thud and he allowed himself to whimper and tremble now that he didn't have to be still. He needed to never get shot again.

She stood and washed the equipment, drying them off and storing them under the sink before attending to the blood-stained tub. It was a relief to be able to watch the other come undone, as painful as the procedure has been. He deserved this much. "Do you need help standing?"

"Yes. In a few minutes. Maybe… twenty? What time is it?"

"Almost half-past-one," Marinette responded after a quick glance toward the clock above the sink, finding it difficult to look back at the other. He appeared deep in thought, staring at the ceiling.

He hadn't used Cataclysm, but hours transformed took Plagg's energy, too. A smile tugged the edge of his lips. "I… may need to ask for some cheese."

"Cheese?"