Chapter 9

"Hmm…maybe lower the pitch a bit." Nino showed the younger male what he meant, moving the buttons to suit his needs as he listened carefully for the changes, replaying the track over and over, "Ah, see? It sounds better if the pitch drops here and starts back up after the chorus."

The younger intern glanced up at the more experienced DJ and grinned, nodding, "Thank you sir!"

Nino grinned and fist bumped his shoulder playfully, "No problem dude! And I told you there are no 'sirs' here!" he winked before exiting the studio, walking down the hallway towards the vending machine.

As he threw in a few coins and watched the metal string slowly pull away from the water bottle, he heard a faint melody from one of the other recording rooms.

It was a sad tune, slow, played from a piano.

Nino didn't know why, but it strangely reminded him of Chat Noir.

He thought back to the encounter he had with the criminal in Marinette's apartment.

He was standing before one of the deadliest criminals in his country, he should've felt terrified.

But all he'd felt was annoyance when the man kept hissing and trying to evade the showerhead like a demon avoided holy water whenever Nino tried spraying him with water, "Dude! Calm down it's just water!" he tried aiming it differently and finally got him when Chat Noir was literally cornered against the side of the bathtub, the mask still planted firmly on his wet face as the water droplets cascaded down his cheeks and jaw, Nino's hands furiously scrubbing the messy blond hair while wedging the shower hose between his legs.

"It's fucking cold water!" it was the first time he heard the criminal cuss and Nino would've laughed had he not been so busy trying to scrub behind the ears.

Thank his headstrong, sweet mother.

Chat Noir hissed again and Nino knew then and there.

He never wanted a cat after that.

But his second encounter with the criminal made him think, after Marinette had called in a frantic panic to dress him.

When the DJ had grabbed a, in his opinion strange shirt from the pile of clothes strewn on the bed, Chat Noir had stopped him and said, "Can you give me the black one? I don't want to make the lady uncomfortable."

Lady.

He had called Marinette lady.

While he wasn't a policeman, he had heard his fair share of rude words used to describe the police, particularly female officers. Even his fellow rappers and DJ men, to his disgust, used the terms in their songs. He was sad to say most of them were told to Marinette at one point or another in her career. He wished he could stop them, but he knew better.

But he rarely heard a criminal address the cop that busted his ass so politely.

The grim look about Chat Noir hadn't helped at all. With his chained feet and hands and matted down hair from the water, he looked more like a victim than a criminal.

Maybe Nino's eyes had been playing tricks on him, but he swore he saw something like guilt in those distracted, green eyes.

A sudden slam made Nino jump and when he looked down, he realized the bottle had finally fallen to the flap entrance.

He bent down, taking it out and grabbing his change, heading back to the studio.

The sad tune was still ringing in his ears, with Chat Noir's sad green eyes in the forefront of his mind.

"Girl, hey! Easy, take it easy!" Alya quickly supported her friend, who nearly fell to the floor in her haste to grab her jacket and duty gun, "You can't go over there! You're hurt!"

Marinette gently pushed against Alya's arm, her other hand supporting her weight against the nearby wall, "Alya, I have to! Something happened in the cell housing Chat Noir and I need to see what."

The reporter grabbed her friend's shoulders, staring into her eyes, "What if you-"

Marinette's bluebell gaze was as fierce as ever, "I won't. I promise Alya, I won't get hurt!" her voice softened slightly, but the undeniably edge in her eyes still burned brightly, hotter than the sun, sharper than a blade, "I'm going over there to see what's wrong, you can come with me if you're worried or stay here and wait for me to come back."

It didn't take long for Alya to decide, she knew how stubborn her friend could be once her mind was set. She helped her dress in her uniform jacket and strap the gun to her hip, wrapping an arm around her waist and slinging Marinette's arm over her shoulders and together, the two women walked towards the car.

The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller, as if the walls were closing in. The shadows of the steel bars barring his freedom reflected on the empty walls, a small window with the same steel bars adorned was located high up on the wall.

Chat Noir felt his hands shaking, the fury rising in his chest.

The vertical shadows of the bars reminded him of old memories, memories of splintered doors and worn wooden floors, of dirty windows and tall gates.

His body trembled violently.

Some of the men shifted uneasily, not knowing whether to intervene or not until only one hesitantly, with shaking feet, slowly approached Chat Noir, as if approaching a wild animal, "Uhm…h-hey, C-Chat Noir, sir, a-are-are-"

Chains rattled loudly as hands pushed against the man's chest, the criminal falling against his inmate behind him in fright.

Chat Noir's green gaze seemed toxic, like the eyes of a predator giving a warning glare at his opponent before ripping them into shreds, his voice dripping with poison, "Stay away."

The inmates, despite being criminals, knew better than to square up against Chat Noir of all people in the world, they froze like statues, not moving a muscle as they watched, petrified, how Chat Noir's body trembled violently, nails digging into his shaky forearms, the chains brushing against the cold floor rhythmically.

Until a shadow passed over the steel bars and the sounds of keys cut through the tense atmosphere, "Well, what do we have here, a captured little kitten."

Another voice, a familiar one, "Look, he's even injured, makes me wonder what hurt such an animal, perhaps the Lieutenant?"

The first voice replied, all too familiar to Chat Noir's ears, "Oh, I'm sure, why don't we finish the job, hm?" the clicking of something metallic made Chat Noir's eyes widen and his trembling stilled.

The door to the cell opened eerily loud, none of the occupants in the small space moving a single muscle, as the dark metal of the gun barrel pointed straight at Chat Noir's lowly bowed head.

A snide smile stretched the former policeman's lips, eyes alight with satisfaction as he released the safety on his gun, "Makes me glad I kept the keys and gun, otherwise we wouldn't even have this opportunity."

His colleague snickered, until a voice from the back called out, "H-Hey! What did he do to you?! He's injured for fucks sake!" the gun lifted abruptly and wide, terrified eyes stared at the pitch blackness of the gun barrel.

"Scum like you don't get to talk!"

A click and the man's finger pulled the trigger, an ear splitting shot echoing in the tiny cell and freezing everyone in their tracks.

Bang!

Time seemed to stand still, at least in the cell.

And then a bloodcurdling scream.

"Arghh!"

Movement, frenzied and uncoordinated broke the spell and mayhem erupted within the four walls. Shouts and angry grunts followed, several bodies moving in disarray as three figures at the entrance of the cell door wrestled with each-other, "Fucking damn it get him off me! My eyes!"

"He-Hey!" a stunned voice echoed from somewhere farther into the corridor, "We need help! Prisoners trying to break out! Call everyone in!" the voice of a distant police guard rang loudly through the echoing hallway.

A blaring noise rang over their heads, signaling the outbreak of a calamity, a calamity far greater to come than any of the officers upstairs are aware.

Chat Noir's elbow slammed itself against the stomach of the second man with the gun, knocking the breath straight out of him. His uninjured leg swung out and delivered a powerful kick to the first corrupt cop, followed quickly by a rough shoulder thrust to daze him. A hand grabbed at his shirt, the material ripping from the force of Chat Noir twisting out of the way with a sharp hiss.

Pain, pain was all Chat Noir registered, but he also felt anger, insurmountable anger for the audacity of these men, barging into the cell and threatening not only him, but an innocent bystander, who had tried defending him.

He would not show mercy.

Years of honing his skills made him duck in time before the fist could connect with his head, surging forward to deliver two quick jabs to the first idiot's ribs before delivering an uppercut to the jaw.

It was after the former police officer with the gun was slammed against a wall that the commotion stilled.

A hand was curled around the man's throat, fingers digging into the frantically beating pulse as Chat Noir's furious green eyes stared the man down, sheer fear reflected in the man's wide blown eyes.

Chat Noir felt intense pressure applied to his still injured leg, crawling sensations running up and down the length as if a colony of fire ants danced on it but he ignored the searing pain. His fist only tightened around the asshole's throat, a bloodthirsty grin curling his lips as he tilted his head to the side, "You want to shoot, did you? You wanted to kill him?"

Eyes the color of poison and seemingly the shape of a feline, narrowing into dangerous slits that robbed the man of his breath as his heart pounded violently in his ribcage when the iron hold around his neck constricted further.

The inmates in the background were all clutching at their petrified friend sitting on the floor, eyes wide and uncomprehending, locked onto the commotion in front of him. The bullet had missed its mark, his head, by inches, due to Chat Noir moving before his opponent did and shoving the gun just when the shot was fired.

Chat Noir had saved his life.

Sickening gurgling sounds echoed in the cell and the other former police officer's distressed voice accompanied them, "Fucking damn let go you scoundrel! Let him go! You'll kill him!" hands were trying to pull Chat Noir away, a booted leg hysterically stomping down on Chat Noir's bandaged leg, but the blond did not budge.

Instincts screamed at him to do something, to fight, to push the source of his pain away but the absolutely mortified expression of the man in front of him kept him grounded, he didn't even feel the burning from the frantic clawing at his arm anymore. Rivulets of blood trickled down the expanse of his arm, it had burned at first, but Chat Noir's attention zeroed in on the panting man, memories of him bruising his leg in the infirmary burning brightly in the forefront of his mind.

All he saw was the violent trembling of the man's body, the drool running down the corner of his mouth in rivulets.

The gunshot flashed in Chat Noir's mind, how it almost hit the innocent inmate who tried defending him. He tightened his grip again like a constricting vice and he angled his fingers directly over the bobbing jugular, preparing to finish it quickly.

Until Chat Noir felt the cold press of metal against the back of his head, shaky but insistent, the release of the safety clicking directly behind his ears, "I'll fucking s-shoot you if you don't let go!"

His body stilled, anger increasing tenfold at the threat, mind calculating the best time to move and angle his body so the fired bullet would hit the idiot he was choking. His leg was still screaming in pain, but he would bite his cheek to curb it and fight. He would not let himself get kicked around like an animal.

Not again. Not here.

He would fight.

The blood rushed loudly in his ears, like the crashing waves of the sea.

All he felt was his rapidly beating heart and the white hot rage boiling deep in his chest like molten lava.

His body tensed, preparing to maneuver around and disable his next threat. Chat Noir released his choke hold and pressed his foot against the ground, preparing to move.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced." Chat Noir froze, his back was to the new voice that entered the chaos in the cell, but from weeks of being captured, he'd memorized it well.

The corrupt former cop turned around slowly, the gun pointed at Chat Noir lowering only for his face to be struck harshly with the back of the gun and a pair of angry bluebell eyes staring him down, "I'm the lieutenant that reported you and that's my stupid cat you're trying to shoot." Marinette released the safety on her gun, eyes never once straying from the two men, one who was now released from Chat Noir's clutches and breathing heavily against the wall.

Chat Noir panted from the exertion from the fight, green eyes never once moving from the female, dressed in what looked like clothes she wore at home, only donning the blue, unbuttoned jacket of her uniform as proof of her status.

Keeping her gun aimed steadily at the two injured men, Marinette's gaze briefly moved to the inmates huddled in the far back, "Are you alright?"

Everyone mutely nodded, except the one whom the gun had been pointed at earlier, he shakily stood up from his crouched position, "H-He saved my life…Chat Noir."

Marinette's eyes flew open, looking down at the criminal in question, whose surprised face was seemingly set in stone.

'Chat Noir…had saved his life?' the woman's mind was racing, her hands clammy and trembling when the rapid bursts of pain kept shooting up her sides, the bandages around her midsection feeling far too tight.

Her body felt weightless and her legs shook, feet skidding across the floor unsteadily.

An arm, with a broken chain attached at the wrist, kept her from falling, wrapped around her shoulders securely. Marinette's fluttering eyes flew open and her body tensed instinctively, as if preparing for a physical blow.

It never came.

She heard Chat Noir's voice whisper close to her ear and a solid warmth that surrounded her all around, "Thank you, princess." Her vision was filled with gold blond hair, messy from the fight.

She wanted to argue, she could feel the beginning sparks of annoyance flare within her at the derogatory pet name, but she didn't have the strength to correct him.

It was Luka's voice that ripped her from the shock she was in, "What do you think you're doing to her?"

They broke apart, Chat Noir's arm was still around her shoulders to keep her upright, while her hand was resting on his shoulder, feeling the pulsating warmth beneath the shirt.

Marinette could see the range of emotions crossing Luka's face, most notably anger and a look of betrayal, "Luka, wait-"

"Handcuff him." Two lower ranked police officers moved pass Luka's broader frame towards Chat Noir, but Marinette resolutely stepped in front of him, still feeling a bit dizzy, "Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng, I ask you to move."

The look she sent him could topple mountains, "And I refuse, Colonel Couffaine." Aqua eyes narrowed suspiciously at her tone, but Marinette held her ground, motioning towards the two former cops on the ground, "These men are the same officers I had reported for abusing Chat Noir during his recuperation, they had stolen the keys to the cell and kept their duty guns to shoot Chat Noir. They'd also tried killing the inmates within this cell, had Chat Noir not intervened."

Luka remained quiet, the two officers standing in front of Marinette nervously looking at each-other, not knowing how to act.

The colonel cleared his throat, stepping forward himself, "Without any solid proofs, I'm afraid you're overstepping your boundaries."

"Check the video footage of the cameras if you don't believe me, there are also several inmates here as valuable eyewitnesses. When I arrived on the scene this man held Chat Noir at gunpoint." She pointed to the man she'd backhanded, sporting a bloody lip now, "If you punish Chat Noir then you'll have to punish me as well."

Luka moved even closer to Marinette, but Chat Noir himself limped forward in-between them, head bowed so he didn't meet the man's eyes directly, "I accept." He shifted his feet, favoring his injured side, "I accept sole punishment for acting out of line in confinement."

When he lifted his head, his eyes held a fire in them, an expression that meant he still held life in him, still had the will to fight.

Luka held his stare, trying to determine whether to trust his words.

I didn't steal anything from you, marine.

Words uttered so long ago came flooding back to him and Luka sighed, breaking off his staring contest with Chat Noir. Instead, he motioned towards the two officers to move.

Marinette was about to wedge herself in front of Chat Noir again, but the two policemen bypassed the criminal in favor of picking up the groaning heaps on the floor, dragging the two former officers away for questioning or isolated confinement.

Marinette stared at her superior, who cleared his throat and looked at the still cowering bunch of inmates, "Any of you injured?"

All shook their heads in the negative and Luka sighed, "Good. If any of you want to testify, ask one of the guards to accompany you upstairs, our reporter will record your reports." Luka closed and locked the cell door again, sharing a look with Chat Noir, "As for you, get upstairs, your wounds reopened."

Chat Noir hadn't even registered the warm wetness trickling down his leg was blood from his reopened injury. He did however register the arm suddenly wrapping around his waist, slinging his other arm around thin shoulders.

It was the lady cop.

"You're limping, let me escort you upstairs."

Chat Noir tried moving away from the woman, noticing the former marine's frown from the corner of his eye, "You're injured yourself, I'm-"

"-My criminal and you're injured. It's my duty to keep an eye on you." With renewed vigor, Marinette firmly wrapped her arm around Chat Noir and grabbing his arm, resolutely glaring up at him with those fierce, bluebell eyes.

She wasn't the woman he'd hurt, now she was the fierce cop that had detained him and her glare left no room for objection.

With a sigh, Chat Noir allowed himself to slightly lean against the shorter woman, noting her firm stance despite her injuries and smaller stature effortlessly supporting his greater weight and size. He noted the smallest grimace of pain and carefully adjusted himself, leaning his weight away from her body and supporting his own, refusing to further injure the woman who'd just saved his life.

As they were making their slow way out of the cell rooms, the inmate from before quickly walked to the cell door, "Chat Noir sir! Thank you!"

Luka had stopped in front of the entrance to the door, as did Chat Noir and Marinette.

The criminal allowed a small smile to grace his lips, "Of course, kitten." With that, they resumed their slow walk, Luka's hand tightening its grip against the doorframe before he made way for the two limping individuals.

When he closed and locked the door again, Luka was sure he would have the expression on the inmate's face on his mind for some time.

It was one of gratefulness.

A few hours later…

"Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng, come into my office for a minute." Luka's voice made Marinette turn her head, internally sighing before she set aside her paperwork and stood from her chair, walking towards him.

He held the door open for her and stepped aside, waiting until she was inside before locking the door and pulling down the blinds.

Marinette waited patiently, standing in front of the vacant chair in front of Luka's desk, before the man himself walked around his desk and sat down, gesturing for the woman to follow.

"I rather stand, thank you."

Another deep sigh and Luka shook his head, "What you did today was beyond reckless. You should've stayed at home , who even informed you of the situation?"

Marinette hesitated, not willing to expose her friend and get him in trouble but the calculating look in Luka's eyes cleared with understanding, "Ah, it was Ivan, right?"

At her tense expression, Luka waved his hand, "Relax Marinette, I won't do anything to him, he wasn't stupid enough to tell you to come here, he just informed you of what was happening. The decision to come here was still yours and it was stupid." At the blunt lecturing from Luka, Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Her gaze was downcast, contemplating the right words to use next, "You…would've done the same Luka. He was my criminal, I had a duty to keep an eye on him, letting him get killed inside the cell within our very own precinct, by two former police officers that worked for us would've been disastrous and you know it. The press would've eaten us up for breakfast."

The former marine rose an eyebrow, folding his hands, "But you never cared for the press." He waited a beat or two but Marinette didn't reply, "Marinette, why did you come?"

When she looked at him again, he was reminded of why Marinette was one of the best on his team, the fierce look in her eyes even sent shivers down his spine, "I did my job when I came here and I did it well. A person's life was endangered, due to my incompetence as a policewoman. Chat Noir acted like any criminal would, the blame is on me."

Another sigh, "Chat Noir is no ordinary criminal, he needs to be supervised under the highest security measures."

"Despite his criminal status, he is still a human, have you heard the doctor's report?"

Surprise filled the colonel and he shook his head, he'd forgotten about that due to the onslaught of testimonies coming in from the inmates.

"Chat Noir had apparently suffered a panic attack prior to being antagonized by the two former cops, he'd naturally lashed out when he was threatened and according to an inmate reacted aggressively to save his life, he'd shown no aggressive behavior until one of the men pulled out his gun." Marinette's tone was crisp and clear, as if she'd memorized the entire medical report by heart.

"…I see." That changed things, as much as Luka disliked to confess this, even to himself, Chat Noir had little going against him, "So he was…claustrophobic?"

Surprised eyes blinked at him, "Y-Yes, how…did you know?"

Sorry marine, but I don't like to be stuck in tight places, I'll sit this round out!

Another memory, oh so long ago resurfaced freshly in his mind but Luka dismissed it, even if the words spoken years ago finally made sense now. He would have time for that later.

"Call it an educated guess." He leaned back against his chair, "Where is Chat Noir now?"

She shifted her weight, as if the question made her uncomfortable, "Recovering in the infirmary, the doctor said he should be good to go tonight."

The man stood up to his full height, rolling his shoulders and fixing Marinette with a saddened expression, "Marinette, how are you feeling?"

The woman caught herself, not expecting the sudden question, before she cleared her throat, "Fine, thank you sir."

"Drop it." Luka's tone softened, a hand moving to the back of his neck, "Drop the formalities, it's just us in here."

The dark-haired woman shifted her feet again and finally slumped her shoulders, "I feel tired actually. Really tired."

Luka hummed in understanding, walking around his desk to stand directly in front of Marinette, "How many times do I have to tell you not to be so reckless?" he gently grabbed her shoulders and squeezed, "The doctor told me you shouldn't move, your ribs are swollen and you need rest."

Her eyes briefly roamed around the room before they nervously lifted up to meet his, "I-I know, I was just…on edge, from everything that happened. The fight, Chat Noir being sent to the cell and…"

Luka rose an eyebrow, "…And?"

Carefully, Marinette retrieved a small slip of paper from the inside of her jacket, folded over four times and handed it to Luka.

It was Alya's script from what he could recognize and the information on it sent a shock through his system, "Where did you get this?"

"Alya gave it to me, she met up with Kim and Alix this morning, Alix sent a report of her own team about the crime scene." She pointed to a paragraph on the second paper, "This is from Juleka, she wrote down her first findings but expect a report from her tomorrow." Luka nodded attentively, recognizing his sister's handwriting, he would expect the first details tonight when he got home from her surely.

"So…Chat Noir was set up?" he met Marinette's gaze, who looked conflicted herself.

"…Apparently so. It…kind of made sense." She played with a strand of her hair before firmly wedging it behind her ear.

"Really? Why?" Luka leaned back against his desk, eyes transfixed on the words written on the paper.

"It's not his usual M.O. He didn't leave a claw mark like he left one every time. The killed prostitutes and children had signs of physical abuse." She rubbed her arm, biting her lip uncomfortably, "We never had any recordings on Chat Noir nor any gang directly associated with him harming children before, women were a rarity, if there had been any on his hit list, they were long standing criminals usually drug dealers or contract killers."

"You're saying the cat has a soft spot for kids and women?" Luka sounded skeptical but his eyes didn't look the same, they shone with understanding, as if deep down, he knew that information himself but didn't want to believe it.

Marinette curled her fingers into a fist, trying to refrain herself from grilling for answers. The day had been rough on everyone, they all needed sleep. She would get answers as soon as Luka was ready to deliver.

She would wait.

If there was one thing she had learned exceptionally well during her police training, it was biding her time.

And waiting for an opportunity to strike.

The car ride home was quiet for now, it was only about halfway home when the quiet criminal sitting beside her on the passenger's seat began to speak since she'd helped him get inside her car, "Did Couffaine authorize this?"

A small smile crossed Marinette's lips, her mood surprisingly… good, "I authorized it myself, since I'm able to do that."

The silence settled between them again, only to be broken by Chat Noir a few minutes after, "You…" he cleared his throat and Marinette listened attentively, eyes still on the road but her ears all to him, "You…didn't have to do that, in the cell today." He turned his head away, face towards the window, "You shouldn't have come."

There was a sharp turn coming up but instead of turning, Marinette slammed her heel on the brakes, the car stopping suddenly and throwing Chat Noir forward, only stopped by the seatbelt strapped across his chest.

He hissed at the pain the impact brought and whirled his head around to look at her, "What was that-"

"Of course I had to. It was my duty." Her eyes looked the same like they had in the cell, fierce, ready to fight, like a lioness protecting her pride.

The criminal's lips formed into a thin line, "Tell me something lieutenant, are you doing this solely for your occupational responsibility?" he watched her carefully, watching the emotions play across her face in the darkness of the night and small light the car provided, "…Or is there something more fueling your motivations?" he waited, eyes locked onto her form, eager to hear her answer.

Surprisingly, it came quick, "You're the criminal I apprehended, therefore it's my responsibility to keep you safe until-"

"Bullshit." Chat Noir's sudden swearing made Marinette stop, staring at him with widened eyes, "You know as well as me that any other cop would've stayed at home despite receiving a call. They wouldn't care. In fact, it would get a load off their hands, not bothering to babysit a troublemaker and go on with their comfortable desk work." His eyes briefly strayed to the street outside, but returned back towards her, "But…you still came."

She stayed silent, eyes downcast, partly covered by strands of her hair.

Chat Noir thought she wouldn't say anything more but he was startled when she lifted her head back to look straight at him, her voice clear and resolute, "Of course I did. You're still a human beneath that mask." The black mask still covering his face felt like it was made of lead, so heavy it was protecting his identity, "Whether you want to admit it or not, nobody deserves to be killed, especially not someone who was chained and injured."

"I'm a criminal." He threw that into the room like a brick wall, a very true brick wall.

"I know that." The look in her eyes told him she would never forget either, "Criminals are humans too. I confess, some of them out there are irredeemable, but others are not so bad. The word 'criminal' just means you did something that was against the law, you could be a murderer or just a person who piled up too many tickets. It's not words that make people into who they are, it's their actions." She smiled, as if firmly believing in the words she was uttering and Chat Noir scoffed lightly, surprised but secretly touched at her answer.

He thought the discussion was over now, but she surprised him again with her following words, "There's a saying about how villains came to be." She paused, as if remembering the exact phrase and Chat Noir listened, "They used to be princesses and princes who were failed to be saved, but they used to be good." The engine started again and the car hummed with life, moving back on the road.

Chat Noir sent her a side glance, "I'm impurrssed, didn't take you for someone that was into romance."

Her voice was soft when she replied, "Well, I never took myself for someone saving a criminal either."

This time, a small smile curled Chat Noir's lips and he hid it with his fist propped against his chin.

At Marinette's residence, preparing for bed

She watched him from the kitchen, drinking a glass of milk, watching how Chat Noir winced imperceptibly when he bent down to pick up a loose shirt for PJ's.

Marinette winced in sympathy, pressing her hand against the thick compression band still wrapped around her ribs. It would be heavenly once she took it off for the night, as the doctor ordered.

She set aside her cup and cautiously walked towards the man, hearing him curse softly beneath his breath, "Need some help?" she waited until he answered and his face twisted into a grimace of pain and discomfort.

"I'm fine." The policewoman scoffed, taking the shirt out of his loose grip, "Hey!" annoyed green eyes met her defiant bluebell stare and Marinette rested a hand on her hip.

"I'm not one for overstepping boundaries, but you're hurt."

Chat Noir tried grabbing the garment from her hands but she only pulled it away, "I can dress myself."

She sighed, gathering her courage, "It's late and I don't want to wake up Nino, it's just the shirt, please let me help you just this once."

It were several minutes of tense silence, until Chat Noir heaved a great sigh, the mental war he'd had with himself obviously lost and carefully raised his arms in the air, pointedly looking up and away from her.

Marinette blinked, before she shook her head, not expecting to get consent so quickly. Nevertheless, she threw the fresh shirt over her shoulder before slowly grabbing the edges of Chat Noir's tattered black shirt, as if the attire would burn her. Giving herself a quick, mental pep talk, Marinette began lifting the shirt slowly over Chat Noir's torso, bare skin covered in bandages exposed to the dim light of the kitchen.

When she got the shirt over his head, Marinette's eyes were a bit shiny, her heart heavy at the horrid sight before her.

Chat Noir's torso was littered in bruises and scars, mostly wrapped in bandages.

A purplish-red bruise was peeking from under a thick bandage wrapped around his waist, scars and scratches of varying sizes littered on patches of skin not covered by the white fabric. His arms were wrapped in bandages as well. He looked like he'd been in a warzone.

"Are you done staring?" his clip, sharp tone suggested he wasn't comfortable at all, nor very amused.

Seconds ticked by where none of them moved a muscle, the rhythmic ticking of the clock their only companion to the shared silence between them.

Marinette swallowed thickly and before she could stop herself, before her brain caught up with her actions, her hand rested lightly in the middle of Chat Noir's bandaged chest, the skin beneath her palm warm and jumping slightly, as if frightened at the unexpected touch.

Chat Noir himself stood petrified, eyes never once leaving her face, throat dry, palms sweaty, trying to make sense of the very unexpected situation.

He didn't dare move, waiting with baited breath on what she would do next.

Her voice came out in a soft, apologetic whisper, "I'm so sorry."

Fingers curled slightly into the fabric of the bandages but otherwise she made no other move and Chat Noir swallowed, stomach quivering until he took a deep breath, the warmth from her hand seeping into him, the spot feeling entirely too warm, "You're-"

She drew back unexpectedly, wide eyes and jerky movements, hand curled protectively against her chest, like a frightened deer, "I-I apologize!" her voice was higher and louder, as if she'd only now realized what she'd done.

The blond man took a step forward, trying to explain she hadn't offended him, but she was already holding the new shirt up and waiting for him to bend down so she could get it over his head.

Semi-grateful for the silent agreement of not, for now, bringing the…the moment up, Chat Noir bent slightly, hissing through clenched teeth at the pain that shot down his spine and through the rest of his torso.

Marinette worked quickly but gently, helping pulling the shirt over his head and carefully pulling his arms into the sleeves, straightening the shirt before quickly removing her hands and turning on her heel, pretending to drain her already empty cup of milk, with her back turned to him.

Chat Noir felt a little awkward, shifting his weight from foot to foot and rubbing his neck, still trying to process the…the…moment from before.

Was it even a moment? Had he hallucinated? That doctor did give him painkillers, painkillers which he felt were beginning to wear off rapidly, if the stinging on his wounds was any indication.

He wished he could've clawed those idiots faces in, if only he'd had his equipment with him, he wouldn't have been hurt like he had.

Shaking his head, Chat Noir turned around, silently thankful that the lady cop already made the bed for him before a thought hit him.

Clearing his throat, Chat Noir sensed eyes on his back, clearly having her attention, before he finally got the words clearly out of his mouth, "…Good night."

He waited for a beat, maybe two, trying to pretend he wasn't waiting for her answer by rearranging the blanket, trying to ignore the small bursts of pain rushing through him like trails of fire, until soft but hurried footsteps rushed past him.

"Good night!" It was a sound he remembered hearing from small girls playing together or women trying to sound coy in front of men they fancied.

Did…did the lady cop just…squeak?

Chat Noir whipped his head around, but she was already gone, the door to her bedroom nearly slamming open, the lock setting into place.

He blinked, once, twice, before shaking his head.

Maybe he'd imagine the sound.

He couldn't imagine a tough woman like her making such a sound.

Trying to mentally calm down from everything that had happened today, Chat Noir switched off the lights and slowly settled down into the couch, mindful of his wounds.

Was the padding softer? He remembered the surface of the couch being slightly tougher, but for some reason it felt softer now.

His imagination, most likely.

Setting his arms on either side of him, Chat Noir stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim his tired body.

It was only after hours of failed attempts at falling asleep, that Chat Noir heard a noise outside.

It sounded like a twig, or the rustling of leaves, but to his trained hearing, the sound wasn't anything accidental.

His eyes were good enough to recognize a shape casting a shadow against the windows. And when he carefully rose from his bed and walked towards the windows, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Chat Noir! My lord, it is you! I've finally found you!"

Thanks for reading everyone! Any thoughts on this chapter? :3