"Chat, you have to go," Ladybug hissed through gritted teeth, "I'll handle this. I have cookies for Tikki to recharge."

Her breathing was getting heavier. Adrien knew that within a minute, she'd be detransformed – her last beep had already sounded.

"But with that leg, you aren't going anywhere, even as ladybug," Adrien protested. How could Ladybug think he'd be so foolish as to leave her alone when she was injured? She needed his help!

"Go, or our identities will be revealed and then we'll have to give back our miraculous!"

Adrien would always put Ladybug's safety above his ability to become Chat Noir. Always. He shook his head in disgust. He wasn't going anywhere. He respected Ladybug's wishes for her identity to remain a secret normally, but this – this was for her safety, not just to satisfy his curiosity.

"Look, I'll call a friend and tell them I got injured in the akuma attack. They can pick me up. I'm Ladybug – I can work out a plan. This is not the time or place for a reveal, Chat. Ok?"

Adrien needed to go – he needed to talk to the akuma – he needed to get home. But his Lady was more important.

"I will be fine," Ladybug was yelling now. "GO away you stupid, mangy, cat! You're being a Stupid! Useless! Idiotic! Excuse! For! A! Hero!"

She needed his help. She needed his help. She needed his help. He couldn't leave. She needed his help.

"I will be fine. You're doing more harm than good. You'll never be a hero again."

Ladybug started crying as she hurled meaningless insults at him.

Adrien turned tail and fled.

It wasn't his proudest moment. It was never going to be his proudest moment, whatever happened. Feelings of guilt washed over him, and the voices inside his head reminded him that Ladybug was in danger, and he was running away. They told him that he was being a coward after all. Niggling little thoughts that he didn't want to listen to, because he'd done what Ladybug wanted him to, hadn't he? She'd yelled at him for the first time he could remember. She'd started crying. She'd wanted him to leave. This was the better option. This way they didn't have to give up their miraculous. This way he wouldn't cause tears to stream down her face. This way he wouldn't have to hear her echo his father's opinions of him. This way everything could go on as normal.

Even if Adrien didn't want it to.

Focusing on the akuma in front of him couldn't calm his swirling thoughts either.

She'd been the one that hurt Ladybug like that. She'd been the one that had slashed a scythe through his Lady's leg. She'd been the one that had made him want to scream and cry.

But he was nothing if not a model. And he needed to put up a front.

Akuma victims aren't responsible for their actions as an akuma, Chat.

Their lives are miserable – that's why we talk to them afterwards, to help them, to stop this happening again.

Adrien had always agreed with Ladybug before, but the image of her slumped on someone's roof-top, wild-eyed and blood-soaked, and yet still smiling at him was hard to forget.

"Miss, you've just been an akuma," he said kindly to the woman collapsed on the floor in front of him. Even as his mind screamed that, she was evil - she had done this to Ladybug.

"Oh. I don't remember."

"Akuma victims never do." That choice of wording. How were they victims when they were the ones destroying things? Because it isn't their choice, whispered a memory of Ladybug. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can help you with? I'm sure this has been a traumatic day for you." Traumatic for her, sure.

"Oh, I'm…I guess I was just a little too busy today, Chat Noir. I just needed more time." The akuma - no, she isn't an akuma anymore – the woman pushed her hands through her hair. "You know, my boss had just given me even more work to do, and my fourth kid was sent home from school and I really just need a break sometimes. You look like you know."

Adrien was half-tempted to be insulted by what he was sure was a reference to the bags under his eyes, normally so well-covered with concealer.

"I'm sure, miss. And if there's anything I can do, just let me know."

"Where's Ladybug?"

How should he answer that? She's injured because of you? Or a lie? Surely this woman deserved to feel the weight of what she had done. But it wasn't her - it was Hawk Moth, reminded the little voice in the back of his head he was fairly sure was his conscience. In the end, he settled for something vague.

"Her earrings were running out. And speaking of, I need to dash as well," Adrien smiled. This woman didn't need to know the pain he was going through, because it wasn't her fault. She had just been feeling the wrong emotion at the wrong time. She was the victim here.

He nearly believed himself.

For the second time that day, he fled. A coward to the bone. His ring had only just started to beep, but he couldn't stand to talk to her anymore. Not when he was still flooded with memories of wonderful, strong Ladybug wincing in pain – fear in her eyes. Not when he had seen Ladybug and his first thought was that this would just be another of the most important women in his life slipping away, leaving not a trace that they were ever there at all. Not when his shoulder was screaming in pain at him, because he had misjudged the vaulting on his way to an injured Ladybug, wracked with worry for his partner.

Not when he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry because it felt like they had won the battle, but lost the war.

Line Break

So Marinette was in a predicament.

A narrowly avoided identity reveal was just the sugar dusting on her problem pie. Avoided being the key term, though, Tikki reminded from the depths of Marinette's subconscious, along with a warning to drag herself behind a chimney pot before she de transformed.

Pain shot through her as she did so – the effects of whatever Tikki had done to get rid of the pain were fading which was not great. The pain only got worse when a burst of magic encompassed her and Tikki flew out of her earrings – except it wasn't flying, it was barely controlled falling. It looked like Marinette wasn't the only one suffering from the battle.

There was the beginnings of a plan forming in her head. If she fed Tikki and re transformed into Ladybug she should be able to yoyo away without too much difficulty. It wasn't going to be fun, but it was the best option she had. Although maybe going straight to a hospital would be a better idea – except she didn't want anyone getting anywhere near her suit (what if they drew her blood and tested it?)(what if they stole a piece of the suit?). The former plan was the best (she wasn't going to think about how she would have to treat the wound herself to avoid suspicion – she wasn't).Until Tikki, finished gorging herself on the cookies Marinette kept in her bag, raised her head to look mournfully at Marinette and offer an alternative suggestion.

"I can convert your wound to an illness. It's a safety mechanism built-in to protect your identity," Tikki paused, "but Marinette, it only changes the pain – I can't heal you."

Well wasn't that fun. Marinette had been half-hoping that Tikki would be able to miraculously cure the wound once she had more energy, but no, it looked like she was going to be ill instead. She hated being ill. Last time she had had a cold, it had lasted for a month – by the end of it, she'd had a rash under her nose from her extensive tissue usage. An illness, however, was still better than trying to explain to her parents, or worse, Alya, why she had a scythe wound on her leg, so Marinette resigned herself to her fate. School would be easier this way as well: she would be able to get a legitimate doctor's note easily and without anxiety. It really was the better option. Marinette hated it with a vengeance anyway.

"All right Tikki, spots on," she sighed. Now, she could look forward to a month or more of misery. Marinette was tempted to thud her head against the chimney as she thought about it.

The transformation took longer than usual, and failed to clear away Marinette's exhaustion. Instead, her throat suddenly felt like she'd taken to gargling sandpaper, her first breath in through her nose nearly made her choke, and a particularly destructive akuma seemed to have made a home in her skull.

Time to go home and curl up with a hot water bottle and a mug of lemon tea.

A moan nearly escaped her at the thought of it.

Aching arms and legs carried her back home, where she promptly collapsed into bed and vowed to herself that she was never going to get injured in battle again. Already, she wanted to crawl into the depths of hell. If this lasted for too long, she might just take up permanent residence there – buy a hole to curl up in – she'd heard that hell contained prime real estate.

Maybe she was being a little bit dramatic, but she couldn't bring herself to care, not when everything hurt – her throat, her nose, her stomach, her head, even her ears ached.

Sleep wouldn't come either. She tossed and turned, but she was always either too hot or too cold or just plain uncomfortable. Every movement hurt but she hadn't wanted to stay still. When she'd called for Maman, she'd simply received a pitying glance and a check with the thermometer.

"You look like you have the flu, sweetie," Maman had said.

Marinette wanted to cry just thinking about it. She was never going to get all the things that needed doing done now. Although, Maman had also mentioned something about taking some time off of school if the flu didn't clear up quickly, so maybe she'd be able to use the time off to… to …

The thought drifted away. The harder she tried to grasp what she'd been thinking about, the worse her headache became, so she settled for a few more sips of her tea.

Eventually (eventually), she managed to get some sleep.

But bright and early the next morning, she woke up with hacking coughs and feeling too hot, boiling, blazing. When had her parents turned the heating up? Struggling out of the piles of blankets, she staggered to the bathroom, where she splashed her face with not-cold-enough water.

Had Marinette mentioned that she hated being sick?

An energetic Papa appeared in the doorway, his bright-eyes mocking her sticky, half-shut with sleep ones.

"C'mon Marinette, back to bed. I'll bring you up some more tea, ok? Try to get some sleep."

He sounded concerned.

Hours later, and Marinette was finally feeling semi clear-headed. Her mouth still felt like something had died in it – and she was still exhausted, but she could think straight. At least, she thought she could think straight. The headache had eased a bit, but in its place came a complete lack of appetite and slight nausea. Not to mention the self-pity she was wallowing in.

Akumas sucked.

Over the course of the weekend, after a bought of throwing up, and absolutely no sleep, Marinette finally managed to feel well enough to mentally tackle her most pressing problem: why she'd gotten injured in the first place. Or, she would have been, except that damn cat knocked on her trap door and let himself in.

"Purrincess. I was just on my Monday evening patrol and thought I'd stop…oh."

Chat took a moment to survey his surroundings – from the mountains of tissues to the huddle of blankets that housed Marinette, to the assortment of crockery stacked on her side table.

"Are you ok?"

Marinette huffed. How did her kitty think she was doing?

"I have the flu," she sighed.

"Ahh." Chat backed cautiously away towards the trap door, only to tangle his foot in a discarded blanket and crash to the floor.

"Will you stay?"

In Marinette's defence, she was going out of her mind with boredom. Her limbs were still too exhausted for her to even think about doing any of the things she'd initially planned on doing over the weekend – like designing, or taking care of her garden; Alya wouldn't come near her so that she didn't catch the flu and give it to her sisters; and there was only so much TV she could binge before she gave up on finding anything worth watching. Some company would be nice.

"I'm bored," she added, in the hopes of convincing him to stay.

"I…uhm, I don't want to catch it."

Chat backed up a little bit more.

"Won't your superhero-ness stop you from catching it?"

Marinette knew full well that they couldn't catch anything when suited up – allergies were fair game, but they were invulnerable to illnesses.

"Oh, uh yeah," Chat said, cheering up. "How long have you been sick fur?"

Gradually, Marinette began to untangle herself from her huddle of blankets.

"I've been sick since Friday, but I'm recovering - slowly. It must be my weekend immune system," she grinned. Some puns should help lift the boredom and take her mind off of her woes. She'd missed her kitty over the weekend. (The return of the Timebreaker nightmares hadn't helped.)(She was getting little enough sleep as it was, the nightmares weren't fair.)

Chat snorted.

"I'm sorry, you're ill. It's snot funny."

"I'm glad you think so, because I'm sick and tired of your immature humour. I'm suffuring over here."

"Yes, that was cold of me not to think of your pain. Judging by the state of your room – the tissues littered everywhere - you are in terrible danger from this disease."

"Exactly. You know, it should be illegal to be this," Marinette paused to sniff, "…this unwell."

"Well, I can only offur my condolences and my company, purrincess."

"Thanks. Sickstremely nice of you to stay and entertain me," Marinette smiled.

"You can pay me in coughee. I hardly slept at all last night," Chat groaned.

"I know what you mean. I've had no sleep because this weekend has just bean one recurring nightmare. It's like I have deja flu."

It was truer than Marinette cared to admit. Nightmare after nightmare. Being ill was monotonous – repetitive. No cure for flu except rest and relaxation. Neither of which were particularly appealing at the moment, which meant she was going stir crazy.

"I'll ask Maman for coffee. At this point, I think it will make me feel a latte better."

Despite what her sniffing and the mountains of tissues suggested, Marinette was feeling well enough to hobble downstairs. Besides, the idea of coffee was motivation enough for her to do anything. Pausing when she got to the entrance to the bakery (Marinette didn't want to infect any of their customers, or leave germs anywhere), Marinette motioned for her Maman to come over.

"Sweetie. Do you need something?"

"Chat came over to say hi, and we were wondering if we could have some coffee," Marinette sniffed, trying her best to look pathetic and exhausted – which wasn't hard – that pretty much summed up how she'd been feeling since she woke up this morning.

As soon as she'd said it, Marinette realised that perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned Chat, as her parents would have seen him if he'd come in the 'correct' way – and she wasn't sure she wanted to rub it in their noses that Chat could come and go without their knowledge, through her trap door. Her Maman must not have noticed, though, because she simply smiled and prepared two cups of strong coffee.

"Is your young man sleep-deprived as well then?" she teased as she handed Marinette the mugs.

"Mamaaaan," Marinette whined. "Don't call him that."

She pouted and escaped up the stairs before the twinkle in her Maman's eye could manifest in more teasing. Only coffee could be worth the trials she had to go through just to go downstairs.

By the time Marinette made it back up to her room, coffee mugs in hand – hers only half full (she needed the caffeine to even consider dragging herself up the stairs) – her kitten had opened the curtains to let some light saturate the space.

"I can't expresso how much this coffee means to me," Chat laughed, but if Marinette wasn't wrong, there was a hint of nerves to it.

"I know what you mean. Also, I was just talking to Maman, and I realised you should probably start coming through the front door if I don't want to be grounded."

"That's a good point." Chat rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Anyway, I didn't come over just to say hi," he remarked shiftily.

Marinette let her blank stare speak for itself.

"As much as I love trading puns with you, I did have a reason for coming here. I wanted to ask you if you could convince Alya to do something about her latest blog post. It isn't true and I…I don't want Ladybug to have to deal with it."

Confused, Marinette opened her phone to the Ladyblog – she didn't make a habit of checking it – an alert would go off if there was an akuma attack, and it wasn't much use otherwise.

What she saw made it difficult to stifle a growl.

Alya was so, so dead.

A/N:

To all of you who were expecting a reveal:

Sorry. Not sorry.

In other news, I spent way too much time looking up puns for this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed the measly few I found.

In even more unnecessary news, this chapter was mainly filler and set-up, so beware that things are going to get more…interesting, from here on in.