The reception on this story is incredible to me, and I'm so thankful for everyone that's reading this. I have some things to say to you guys that I'll put near the end.

Enjoy ;)

It took a few days for things to go back to some semblance of normalcy. The memorials were left up, and Marinette heard a rumor that the engineers in the compound were working on permanent structures to honor the fallen soldiers.

She woke up in the early hours of the morning, right around when Chat Noir used to show up to drag her out of bed. It was almost like her body knew he wasn't coming anymore, so it started waking up on its own. Unfortunately, all it did was leave her wide awake in bed for hours until the rest of her troop was up.

Marinette didn't know what to do. Her feelings toward Chat Noir had changed so much in a small amount of time, leaving her muddled and confused. She wasn't angry anymore, but she wasn't on the best of terms with him either. Most of her animosity towards him had been about Squad D, but all of that vanished when she stepped up to that clearing.

She didn't tell a soul what she saw in the woods. It was a private moment, and she knew she shouldn't have been there, but she couldn't stop her mind from replaying it over and over.

She felt like the heartless one. Why was she blaming Chat for Squad D's demise? It's not like he meant for their mission to fail, whatever it was. If she was so quick to blame him, how did he feel about himself? She couldn't imagine the guilt, and it must have been unbearable when he had to face their families at the funeral service.

He was probably trying to hold himself together when Nino came with the news, staying stoic because if he let himself feel anything, it would all come flooding out at once.

She had let go of her anger towards him for that, but she was still feeling ambivalent about him keeping the coup a secret. She had lived on the citizen's side for ten years, and if she was given information that could end this nightmare sooner, she would take it in a heartbeat. That's why she came here immediately after the procession.

She didn't understand how Chat could choose to wait this out, but to be fair, she was pretty fired up when he was explaining himself. There was nothing he could have said to change her opinion.

Looking back, she felt slightly ashamed of how angry she got. Yes, she was very passionate about the topic, but she could have handled it a lot better.

One thought kept cropping up in her mind: How did Chat find out about the coup? It must have been when he broke into the prison, but that would mean he either saw the fake King like her or…

Adrien.

Her mind ran wild with questions and possibilities, and she reached into her bag and pulled out the ruby earrings. She held one over her face and spun it, watching the low light bounce off the dimensions in the stud to create moving patterns.

Maybe Chat saw Adrien in the prison. Maybe Chat freed him, or maybe he couldn't. Maybe Adrien was still there, waiting for the nightmare to be over.

Or maybe he was somewhere else, kept in a separate part of the castle, far away from any prying eyes.

Tears stung her eyes as another thought came to mind.

Maybe he wasn't there at all. Maybe he hadn't been for a long time. Maybe he was…

Emilie's death had shaken her to her core, but if something happened to Adrien, she would never recover. God, she missed him so much. They were each other's comfort when they were kids, back when their problems were so minuscule. He was there to support her, and she was there to support him. Now, they've both been through hell, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him tightly and never let go.

She wanted so badly to hug him and be there for him as he mourned his mother, mourned the loss of his entire life, but she couldn't. Not knowing where he was, how he was, if he was even alive, was tearing her apart inside.

A smile crept onto her face as she stared at her dummy. There was a long slash across the front, by no means deep, but it was a cut nonetheless. She looked down at her arms, feeling her biceps and noticing they were a little more firm. She reached a hand out and felt along the burlap, admiring her work.

Chat would be so proud of her.

Her smile faded. No matter how many issues they had, that didn't stop her from missing him. Their training sessions were once the highlight of her day, and she had a feeling they were his too. She had her demons that haunted her at night, but when she was working with him, she forgot about it all. The pure joy and cheer that radiated off of him when they were together couldn't have all been fake, right?

She had trouble getting to sleep that night, so she gave up entirely. It had been a while since she did any extra training, so she headed to the North to do some on her own. When she reached the northern tents, she paused. With light footsteps, she broke off the path and walked for a few minutes, eventually coming close enough to see Chat's tent.

The light was on inside, the canvas glowing a soft yellow.

So he's awake.

It was practically the middle of the night, but she wasn't one to judge; she was up too. Marinette briefly considered going in to talk to him, but she decided against it. She turned around and made her way back to the path and towards the Training Grounds. The shed was unlocked, and she retrieved her bucket of rocks and hauled it past the posts and into the clearing.

She set the bucket down on the grass, her eyes drawn to the treeline where Chat had disappeared a few days prior. As intrigued as she was about the area, she resisted the urge to go back. This was her time to train, and she wouldn't let herself get sidetracked.

She made another trip for the second bucket and the pole, and for the next hour, she trained. It wasn't nearly as enjoyable as when she was with Chat. She would admit that. She felt lonely standing in the clearing by herself, and it was difficult to encourage herself to do better and push beyond her limits.

On her way back, she stopped by his tent again. The light was still on.

Marinette woke up, her hand immediately shooting to her neck. It ached, and as she shifted, she felt the hard ground press into her shoulder and hip. She blearily looked at her surroundings, realizing she had fallen asleep in the clearing after training. She had been so exhausted, the second she laid down to rest her muscles, she was gone.

It was a different kind of exhausted, though. When she was tired after a workout with Chat, her body was the only thing that needed recovering, and after a few minutes sprawled on the ground, she would be okay.

Now it felt like her mind was drained. This was her fourth day in a row coming out to train alone, and she felt worse each time she faced the silence here. This clearing was never meant to be silent. It was supposed to be filled with her cursing and Chat laughing and punning at her.

She thought coming here would be an escape from her thoughts, but instead it enhanced them. Everything here reminded her of him, and when she thought of him, she thought of their fight, and when she thought of their fight, she thought of Adrien.

She sat up and massaged her shoulders. It was dark out, but the sun would rise soon. Her bones cracked as she got to her feet. All of her training equipment was on the ground next to her. She really didn't want to carry it all back, so she left it.

Nobody uses this clearing, right?

She didn't bother putting the cloth back over her mouth, instead tucking it into her pocket. It was early enough that it didn't matter. Nobody was out. She stumbled down the path and out into the Training Grounds, making her way across it and into the forest again. By the time she reached the tents, she was fully awake, and again, she wandered over to Chat's tent.

Marinette stopped in place when she saw it, glowing with light as always. She looked at the night sky before returning her gaze to the tent.

Did he ever sleep?

Every time she came by here his light was on, even in the depths of the night or at random hours in the morning. Did he sleep with it on or something?

She hesitantly stepped forward, slowly making her way towards it. When she got close enough, she peeked through the canvas. Chat stood off to the side, his hands braced on the table as he stared down at it. The sheet was gone, something like a map spread across the surface in front of him, along with various papers with notes. Her eyes returned to Chat.

He looked terrible. His hands were bandaged up, but blood soaked through the white cloth. His face was pale, and even though the veil and black face paint covered up his eyes, she knew he had dark circles under them. Everything about him screamed exhaustion.

Without thinking, she stepped forward into the tent. He didn't look up; he didn't even move. She walked a few steps forward until she was sure she was in his peripheral, but he still didn't react.

She cleared her throat. "Hey."

Now that she was closer, she could tell his eyes weren't moving. He was simply staring at one spot on the table. It took him a few moments to respond. "Hey."

Marinette folded and unfolded her hands, hating how awkward this felt. She had never felt awkward with him. He always filled the air with random chatter, but not now. She knew she was partly to blame for this, but that didn't stop her from missing the way they used to be.

Her gaze fell to the table. The map made little sense to her, but she didn't let herself stare at it for too long. This was probably private, and she felt she should at least respect that.

She looked back at him, still in the same position. How long had he been standing here? Was this what he was doing every time she stopped by?

"Do you wanna take a walk?" she asked. "Clear your head?"

"No."

She bit her lip. She had expected that. "When was the last time you slept?" She tried to keep her voice gentle, communicating she wasn't here to fight with him again. He stayed silent, and she stepped closer. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

He sighed, finally looking up at her with hooded eyes. "I said I'm fine." His voice wasn't harsh. It was quiet, but it lacked any warmth.

She couldn't stand the tension between them. They needed to clear this up, or at least try. She would never find Adrien like this, and if she was being honest, she couldn't stand losing Chat as a friend. Her anger clouded so much of the good memories they had, and she refused to let that happen again this time.

She moved to stand on the same side of the table as him, and his eyes followed her, although they were slightly delayed. "Can we talk?"

He watched her for a few beats before he sighed, exhaling through his nose. He pushed off the table and turned to face her completely. "Look-"

He stopped short. Marinette's eyebrows furrowed as he blinked heavily at her, but then her heart leaped to her throat as he began to sway. In seconds, he was falling, and she rushed forward to grab his shoulders. He collapsed on her, and she tumbled with him. She used all her might to keep his head from slamming into the ground, breaking the fall with her knees and lowering him into her lap.

"Chat?" She brought her hands to his cheeks and looked down at his face, her heart pounding in her chest. His eyes were closed, his face void of any expression. She tapped his cheek. "Chat? Hey, wake up." He remained limp in her arms.

Marinette felt herself panicking. She repeated his name over and over, trying to nudge him awake. She put a finger under his nose, feeling his soft breaths on her skin.

Good, he's still breathing.

She glanced around the tent. Should she go get help? It was the middle of the night, and the only people she imagined would be awake were the patrolmen. She debated leaving to find someone.

There's no way Chat would want anyone to see him in this state, but there could be something wrong with him. She had little medical experience, so if things turned bad, she wouldn't have a clue what to do.

She turned to get up but stopped short.

Or maybe he would wake up at any moment. She couldn't just leave him here all alone, especially if something happened while she was gone.

She cursed under her breath and turned back to Chat.

She cradled his face again. His cheeks were burning, and she moved a hand to feel his forehead.

"Oh, Chat…" He most definitely had a fever. In her peripheral, she caught a glimpse of his wash basin. If she wasn't going to get someone, the least she could do was try to control his fever. She knew how to do that.

She gently lowered him to the ground and approached the basin, grabbing a washcloth and dipping it in the cold water. She wrung it out and made her way back, crouching beside him and dabbing his forehead with the cloth.

Her eyes roamed over him. She never would have imagined him in this state. His skin was gray and clammy, his breaths were shallow, his hands were bleeding through their bandages, and he was still. So still.

Chat wasn't a still person. She picked up on that fast. He was always overflowing with excess energy, always bouncing on his feet and always wide awake and ready to take on the day.

How could he let himself get to this point? She was almost positive he hadn't slept in days, and if he had been standing there for hours, no wonder he finally collapsed.

Nothing from the last few days felt real. She didn't realize how much she missed her friendship with Chat until it was gone. His presence alone was enough to make her smile on a tough morning, and his stupid puns were so bad that she couldn't help but laugh.

But now, their entire dynamic was shattered by the reality of their situation. She was there to find Adrien, and he was there to train and lead an army into battle. It didn't matter if they were friends or not when they could both be dead in a few months, just like Squad D.

Marinette peered up at the table, her curiosity getting the best of her as she craned her neck to look at the surface. It was most definitely a map, and the longer she stared at it, the more she started piecing together.

The map was of the castle, and the notes were battle strategies. Ever since Squad D's demise, Chat had been spending all of his time in his tent. He must have been throwing himself into his work, as if that would distract him from what happened. He probably couldn't stop thinking about it, and maybe that explained why he wasn't sleeping.

She couldn't imagine how he must feel, being responsible for the deaths of five people, people he was close to as well. She felt like a fool for letting herself be mad at him for that. The mission wasn't supposed to fail. They weren't supposed to die.

Marinette shifted on the ground. Her legs were aching from sitting on it. She looked over Chat again. He couldn't be comfortable either. Her eyes traveled to the split in the canvas, leading to what she assumed was his bedroom.

Maybe she could move him to his bed? She wasn't sure how she would do that by herself, but she got up to look anyway.

When she stuck her head in his room, she was shocked to see nothing but some blankets and bags tucked in the corner. Other than that, the space was empty.

Where's his bed?

She glanced around behind her as if she somehow missed seeing an entire mattress, but there wasn't one in sight. She turned back to the space in front of her. There wasn't even a pillow.

She thought Chat slept here, but now she wasn't so sure. Did he have another tent? If he did, it seemed strange he wouldn't just sleep here. Her plan to move him went right out the window, but as she was about to leave, she caught sight of something white In the outside pocket of a bag. Bandages.

She thought about the ones he had on now, dyed red and brown by his wounds. She couldn't imagine it would be easy for him to change them himself, and they desperately needed to be changed.

She moved forward and grabbed the roll before walking back to the basin and wetting another cloth. She kneeled beside him and tenderly grabbed his right hand, slowly unwrapping the bandage.

Marinette cringed at the sight of his hand. His knuckles were black and blue under a layer of dried and fresh blood. It had been nearly a week since he did this to himself, but the wounds still looked fresh. She subconsciously clenched her fist at the sight.

She held his hand in her palm and set to work dabbing his skin with the cloth. He had nasty scabs on his knuckles, but a few had broken open. She worked around them to not irritate them, focusing on the back of his hand and his fingers.

While she held his hand up, she could feel the thick calluses on his palm. She momentarily paused to feel her own. She had developed some calluses from the blisters she got the first week of training, but they were nothing compared to his. She'd only been training for a little over a month. He had been training for years.

She forgot he was a soldier too. Although she'd never seen him do anything other than train others, she was sure he had his own regime he kept up with.

She swiped the cloth over his middle finger and paused. There was a purple bruise just below his knuckle, separate from the rest. It was shaped like a band.

Her mind flashed to the silver ring she saw on him the day they trained in the North Training Grounds. He must have had it on when he was punching the tree. She briefly wondered where it could be now.

After gently wrapping his hand with fresh bandages, she reached for his left. This one had significantly less bruising, most likely because it was his non-dominant hand, but the sight still made her cringe.

She readjusted her grip so her fingers brushed across his palm, and she paused as she felt something. She furrowed her eyebrows and turned his palm towards her, her mouth dropping open at the sight of the long scar spanning his palm and wrist.

It was old, but it was a mess. The skin obviously didn't heal correctly; it was patchy and jagged and rough, like a pink and white lightning strike across his hand. She ran her fingers over it, her gaze flicking between his palm and his face as her mind ran wild with questions.

What happened? This must have happened here, right? Maybe at the beginning of the revolution he hurt himself training, unless it was from sometime before...

This wasn't the first time she had wondered about his life before the revolution. If she was right to assume he was around her age, he had been just a kid when the world changed. Hell, he must have been just a teen when the revolution started, when he raided the prison and single-handedly started a movement in the country.

He must have experienced firsthand just how cruel the royal guard was, and she hoped this scar wasn't proof of that.

She imagined a young Chat Noir, fighting to feed his family like every other man in France. She imagined him finally snapping, grabbing his dark clothes and mask and setting out during the night. She couldn't picture how he got in and out of the prison, so her mind skipped to him returning in the night, taking his family and the prisoners, and going off the grid. She imagined him finding this place and building everything here.

She was filled with so much respect and admiration for him at that moment. Marinette knew she would never have enough courage to do what he did, to uproot her entire life and risk everything for the sake of her country. Sure, she was risking a lot by being here now, but all she had to do was find this place and she was safe. Chat didn't have that. He had to build it himself, and not just for his sake. He had the prisoners and their families to care for, and as the revolution grew, he had more and more people he was responsible for.

Did he ever catch a break?

"No…"

She snapped out of her thoughts, her eyes shooting to his face. His were still closed, but his brows were creased. She quickly moved to hover over him.

"Chat?"

He didn't react, and it was then she realized he was still asleep, just dreaming. He turned his head away from her, flinching. "Please…"

His voice was pleading, a soft and vulnerable sound she didn't think he was capable of.

She didn't know what to do. Should she try to wake him up again? She raised a hand, and just as she was about to cup his cheek, he spoke. "Let me out of here… Help me…"

She froze, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of chills came over her. Whatever dream this was, it wasn't good. For a split second, she questioned whether this was a dream or a memory, but then he went still.

His breathing pattern changed, and he began stirring awake. She turned his face towards her. "Chat?"

His eyes fluttered open, his eyebrows creasing as he stared up at her concerned expression. His eyes refocused on the tent behind her as he realized he was lying on the ground.

"You fainted, Chat," she said, leaning back to give him some space. "Are you feeling okay?"

He propped himself on his elbows before sitting up. She watched him warily as he swayed in place, still looking drowsy. He moved to stand, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe you should stay down for a few minutes." She was afraid he would faint again with the way he could barely hold himself upright.

He let her push him back to the ground. She told him to stay put and got up to retrieve one of his blankets. When she returned, she placed it under his head, propping it up.

He said nothing, simply watching her as he became more and more lucid. She could tell he was feeling vulnerable with the way he shifted uncomfortably, but she made no move to leave. She grabbed her cloth and started dabbing his head again.

He leaned away, eyeing her strangely.

"You have a fever."

She moved towards him, but he blocked her hand from his face. "I'm fine, I can take care of it myself."

He tried to get up again, but she firmly held his shoulder to the ground. "You just collapsed, Chat. Give your body a break for once." She gave him a slightly scolding look. "Every time I come by here, your light is on. When was the last time you got some sleep?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Every time you come by here?"

"I started training alone at night." She distracted herself by dabbing his forehead, and this time he let her. "I see your tent on my way."

They both knew it was definitely not on the way, but he said nothing.

"You didn't answer my question, by the way," she said.

"I know."

She pressed her lips together. She couldn't keep doing this. They couldn't stay like this any longer. She had always been a stubborn child, so apologizing was like pulling teeth, but she needed to do it. Now.

Marinette sighed. "I'm sorry."

Chat looked at her.

"I got angry with you, and it clouded my judgment. I jumped to a lot of conclusions and said some things I shouldn't have." She stopped and looked him in the eye, hoping her face conveyed how she felt. "And I'm sorry about Squad D. I know you were close with them."

He broke eye contact and stared down at his feet. She could see him fighting to keep his face blank, but remnants of the pain she saw on him the other day seeped through.

She gave him a moment before she continued. "And I didn't come here just to join the revolution."

He met her eyes again.

She searched for a way to explain herself without openly telling him everything. "I came here to find answers. If there's someone else on the throne, then what happened to Prince Adrien? I thought maybe when you broke into the prison, you could have seen something."

Chat's eyebrows furrowed. "You're looking for Prince Adrien?" She nodded. "Why?"

"I thought if I found him, we could restore the monarchy, and then maybe all this madness would finally be over."

Chat frowned and narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think he would fix things?"

"Because…" She was at a loss for words. Chat obviously thought she believed in the Emerald superstition, but she needed to convince him otherwise. She felt weird telling him about her memories with Adrien, it was too personal, but maybe she could get away with half-truths.

"I met Emilie once."

The irritation faded from his face as she continued.

"She came through my village when I was young." Marinette smiled softly as she remembered the woman. "I'd never met anyone like her. She was the kindest soul, and you could see the love gushing from her at all times. All she wanted was to talk to her people and get to know them. She truly cared for us. If anyone could raise a King suited for the throne, it was her, and I trust she did just that."

Her eyes were imploring. "I don't believe in the Emerald superstition, but I believe in people. If anyone can pull us out of this, it's Adrien."

Chat looked away, so many mixed emotions on his face she couldn't keep track of them all. She so desperately wanted to know what was going on inside his head. Was he still mad? Did he even believe her? His silence was killing her, but she stayed quiet, waiting for him to respond.

His face became resolute and he sighed, giving a nod. "Okay." He looked at her again, all traces of coldness gone. "I'm sorry too. I lost my composure."

She shook her head. "I yelled at you first."

"Doesn't matter." He gave her a soft look. "I know where you're coming from. Trust me, I've been there. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to drop everything and tell everyone about the coup, but I can't.

"I can't risk this happening again, Ladybug. The people of France need to fight for themselves, not their monarch. It kills me to see the state of things out there, but I'll never forgive myself if I take the easy route now and let the country crumble later, because I know I won't be around to do anything about it."

Marinette stared at him, and for the first time, she allowed herself to understand. She knew that if she had been in charge, she would have told everyone in a heartbeat, but she wasn't. Chat had thought this through, and his plan dealt with something far greater, an issue spanning hundreds of years that finally needed to end.

She still had her issues with his course of action, but if she thought about it, she would hate to risk this kind of life for her descendants. Both paths had their risks and their sacrifices, but at the end of the day, she wasn't the one to make that decision. Chat was, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

"Okay. I'm not gonna tell anyone about the coup, but could you tell me something?"

"What is it?"

Her heartbeat increased as the question that plagued her mind day and night finally slipped from her lips. "Was he there in the prison? Adrien?"

Chat looked between her eyes, hesitating before responding. "No, I didn't see him."

Her heart dropped, but she refused to let it deter her. So what if he's not in the prison? He could be somewhere else in the castle. He has to be.

Another question escaped her. "Do you plan on taking the throne when this is all over?"

"No." He thought for a moment. "If the people want me there, then I will, but that's not what this is about. I couldn't care less about being King, I just want my home back."

His gaze was distant, a longing in his eyes as he stared off, and she knew he wasn't lying. He lost something from this, just like her, just like everyone. She wasn't sure if it was just his freedom, or maybe it was a person, but it didn't matter. He was just as broken as the rest of them.

They stayed like that for a while longer. Marinette felt like a weight had been taken off her shoulders, and she was sure Chat felt the same. The tension between them was gone, and he seemed completely at ease while she tended to his fever.

The sun rose outside. Marinette needed to head back for her early morning training, so she convinced Chat to go to a medic. She helped him sit up and was pleased to see he wasn't swaying anymore. She placed a hand in the crook of his elbow and guided him to his feet.

He wasn't perfectly stable on his feet, but she kept him steady as they walked out of the tent and towards the nearest infirmary. It was near the path, and she stopped right outside the entrance. "Hey, Chat?"

He stopped too, giving her a questioning look.

She bit her lip. "So are we… good now?"

His face softened, and he gave her a warm smile that melted her heart. "Yeah. Can we not be mad at each other ever again, though? It kind of sucked." His voice was quiet and his eyes were tired, but a glint of the Chat she knew shone through.

She laughed and raised her fist between them. "Make-up pound it?"

He chuckled, raising a bandaged fist and pressing it to hers. "I'll let you know when I'm better, then we'll meet at our usual time, okay?"

She grinned. "Okay."

They parted ways, and on the walk back to her tent, she felt light as a feather. She and Chat had finally been transparent with each other. Sure, she didn't tell him about her personal connection to Adrien, but that wouldn't have made a difference.

She was disappointed Chat didn't have any information on Adrien, but that didn't set her back. There was a chance Chat just didn't see him, or maybe Adrien was somewhere else in the castle.

It was almost better this way. Her mind had been imagining the worst with Adrien being locked up in a cell, but maybe whoever was controlling the government wasn't that cruel. Adrien was still royalty. Maybe he lived in the castle somewhere, his voice drowned out but still living some sort of life.

This new picture comforted her, and for once she felt optimistic. Maybe things would work out. She and Chat were back on good terms and communicating more than they have before, and there was a chance Adrien wasn't suffering in a cold, dark cell like she used to think he was.

She crept into her tent and laid down on her bed. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, rolling onto her side and letting her mind replay her conversation with Chat. A smile crept onto her face as she recalled their parting.

Unbeknownst to her, someone had heard her creep back in, and a pair of narrowed eyes now stared at her back.

I want nothing more than to give you guys a regular posting schedule, but I can't see that happening any time in the future. A lot has happened to me in the past year, and during it all, I used this story as an outlet to deal with it. I wrote most of this story while I was in a really bad mindset. I'd get so lost in my head that I would isolate myself for days, and I'd have a hard time coming back to reality.

I've really grown as a person these last couple of months, and I'm afraid of reverting back to how I was. I'm not giving up on this story, I never will, but there may be times when I can't give you an update for a while. I'm trying to rewire my mental relationship with this story, and it might take some time.

I appreciate all of you who have been patient with this story, it means a lot to me, and I hope to see you soon.
-Lori

The next chapter is called "I'm Fine"