The next bizarre thing - in the very long list of bizarre things Ladybug had been doing lately - happened two days later, when she showed up in the middle of his solo patrol.

That by itself was an oddity. (She insisted some of the patrols were separate so they could both have time for homework and spending time with friends, so why would she be out here with him if she had more important things she wanted to do?) But her behavior the entire night was downright alarming. Something was still bothering her.

The patrol had started like any other. The air was still. The night was quiet. And Chat Noir was alone with his worries. Ladybug hadn't contacted him after the gala, and she hadn't answered any of his texts. That was normal for her, but this time he couldn't help but feel like she was giving him the silent treatment. Despite her assurances she wasn't mad at him… he didn't quite believe that. His words had hurt her, but in what way and how deeply? She probably wouldn't give him an answer if he prodded. He knew how stubborn his Lady could be about these kinds of things.

"Chat Noir!" She dropped right in front of him as he was sprinting across a rooftop, making him skid to a stop and nearly topple over.

She smiled too widely, looking directly at him for three solid seconds before quickly looking at everything around him, her arms crossed protectively and her hands tucked into her armpits. "Funny meeting you here."

"No, it's not," he said, regaining the last of his balance. He needed to fix whatever he'd messed up. He would just have to shoot in the dark and hope for the best. "If this is about what I said–"

"I'm normal," she blurted. "Everything is normal. We're normal."

Using "normal" three times in one breath was definitely not. His heart sank. He'd messed up their friendship somehow.

"Definitely nothing is different or wrong," she said, in a way that screamed "absolutely everything is different and wrong!"

Maybe it wasn't what he said that she was upset about, though. (It definitely was.) He shouldn't jump to conclusions. (He definitely wasn't.)

"Is this about you tripping? No one saw," he said, hoping he sounded reassuring and not slightly desperate. (It was too early to be desperate, right?) "I checked all the blogs and tabloids already. No one saw anything." He took a step forward and laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"No!" she yelped, taking a step back far enough that she slipped out under his touch. "I good you. We're told– Wrong is nothing! Uh. Super duper!" She shot him two thumbs up as she made eye contact with his bell. "What makes you think–" She swallowed hard. "I mean, why wouldn't I be?"

"M'lady?" Chat Noir felt like he'd been dunked in ice water. The last time he'd seen her this flustered was years ago, when she thought she'd walked in on him naked while taking a shower. If she was at that level of uncomfortable and upset– And he didn't even know– "What did I do?"

"Nothing!" she squeaked, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Ladybug." It sounded like a whine, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "It's something. I did something. I'm sorry! Just tell me how to fix it, please!" Please, I don't want to lose you!

"You didn't do anything wrong." She slapped her face into her palms and rubbed furiously.

If he didn't do anything wrong, that could still mean he'd done something.

"It's not you." She looked up, eyes bright against her pink face. "It's me. I'm just being super dumb. Sorry, Chaton."

Her bangs were disheveled. He fought off the urge to drag his finger across her forehead to straighten them for her. Now was not the time. "Are you sure it's not me?"

"Yes," she said emphatically. "I think I'm just–" Her hands ran through her hair, then gestured around her, and finally rested on her hips when she couldn't figure out what else to do with them. "I'm just going through some stuff."

"Oh." She might have been lying to make him feel better. It was a distinct possibility. But even if she was, it meant she didn't blame him. They were going to be okay. The itching worry between his shoulder blades lessened slightly. And she might be telling the truth too. "Could you tell me about it? Maybe I could help."

Ladybug responded with a silent stare and rapidly deepening blush.

Okay, she doesn't want to share. The prickling disappointment that she didn't trust him with what was bothering her tasted bitter in his mouth, but it wasn't his place to pry it out of her. Constant support was his place.

He took both of her hands in his. "I'll help you any way I can. Is it personal stuff?" It seemed like a safe guess, if it wasn't him and she couldn't talk about it.

Her blush only deepened and she strengthened her grip on his fingers. "Very personal." And then more quietly, "I wish I could talk about it."

Ladybug bore the brunt of the responsibility in their partnership. He knew that. Making the plans. Using her Cure and her Lucky Charm. Being the guardian. And that was on top of school work and friends. She might have a job or be learning how to drive. The list of pressures she was potentially carrying every day was long. And she deserved the best partner. He wanted to be the best part and supporter for her.

"Do you want me to take more of the solo patrols for a while?"

"Huh?"

"If things are too stressful right now," he clarified. "It would give you more free time to take care of whatever it is." It wasn't like he had a lot of free time as it was, but he'd give it all to her if that's what she needed. "If it's school related, I could tutor you? Or maybe we–"

"Oh." She dropped his hands to hold hers up placatingly. "You don't need to do that. I'm fine."

"I want to," he said simply. "You're important to me. I want you to be happy."

"O-okay," she said, and it sounded a little breathless.

"Okay," he echoed. Would it be too much to grab her hands again? She'd been willing enough the first time, but a repeat might be pushing his luck. He clasped his hands behind his back.

On second thought, maybe he should have risked it. She stepped forward, hand coming up to touch his… uh, upper arm. Not his bicep. She does NOT want to feel my muscles. Stop it, brain. Her fingers brushed his suit, a quick movement, before she dropped her hand and clutched it to her chest.

He needed to focus on whatever problem she was having. For her sake. Mostly so he didn't do or say something stupid. "Um. What do you need right now?"

"A distraction," she said quickly. "I just need to not think about it for a while. Then it'll go away on its own."

"That sounds like avoidance. Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, emphasizing the word. "Very."

"Race you to the Trocadéro?"

"Great! Perfect! Awesome!" Ladybug took off so fast he didn't have a chance to tell her she was going in the wrong direction.

Author's note: I changed the title! It's still the same story, though. Thanks to jheqiawrites on Tumblr for the suggestion! I like it a lot more.