hey guys!
sorry for the late update but time flies! i try to translate at least one page per day but it's hard to keep up with uni :/
anyway, hope you'll like this chapter!
Adrien isn't usually stressed, strictly speaking. Of course, he has his anxious moments; so does everybody. Crowds aren't something that stresses him out this much.
For as long as he can remember, Adrien has always been used to the spotlight: photoshoots, interviews, repeated receptions had forced him to be.
Sometimes, he's grateful for this early fame. Just like at this very moment.
Adrien buttons the last button of his white suit shirt and looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is combed back, leaving his forehead bare—except for a few locks which are already starting to disobey him. The deep black of his pants and belt perfectly contrasts with his suit. These are clothes from Gabriel, of course. According to his father, there are no small opportunities when it comes to promoting his brand. The greatest of stylists could be sitting at the smallest gala reception. Adrien had heard this sentence thousands of times.
He carefully glances at the brand logo, finely stitched into his shirt. Gabriel's picture pops in his head. Adrien doesn't want to be part of the school Christmas show. Especially after hearing that Marinette is going to be part of it. It's the first time that she's going to sing in front of this many people. It's the first time that the world is going to be exposed to her talent, to her voice that never stops making him shiver.
It's very important for her—and for him.
He doesn't want to risk stealing her thunder. It's not self-centeredness, it's a fact: gazes are always on him. When he walks down the school's hallway or when he hangs out in Paris' streets, when he's in the middle of a fencing tournament or in the middle of a piano recital, widespread attention is always focused on him. Even though it doesn't usually stress him, it's not always enjoyable, either.
But his own comfort isn't what worries him, here. It's Marinette. He doesn't doubt her talent, at any time. He knows she'll be heard and listened to. But he wants all the attention to be on her. He wants every person to hang onto her every word. He doesn't want to distract anyone from the real show: her.
But his father utterly wants him to take part in the show. He has greatly insisted on it in a way Adrien has never seen. He almost seemed… desperate.
And they can't do different performances because Marinette needs a piano accompaniment and he's the only one to have presented himself to play the instrument—any rivals have probably been scared away.
So, there he is, on the evening of December 23rd, in an improvised dressing room, ready to play in a duo with Marinette.
"Adrien? Can you help me, please?"
"I'm coming." One last glance at his reflection and he walks behind the screen set up for the occasion.
His heart jumps in his chest when his gaze meets Marinette's. Her almond-shaped eyes are brought out by her makeup, which only stretches them out more. Her lips are shiny with gloss and Adrien can't help but wet his own.
And her dress… Oh, God.
It's clinging to her body like a second skin, hugging her body in all its beauty. The fabric is silver, adorning Marinette with one thousand and one sparkles. It's reaching the middle of her thighs, going up along her body until covering her chest in a neckline that's making his head spin. The dress is fully falling between her two breasts, showing her entire breastbone and the middle of her chest.
He can see in her eyes that she's particularly proud of this dress. And she can be.
Oh, she really can be.
Adrien hopes the public isn't only going to notice her magical voice, but also the magnificence of her designs.
"You're… you're really, really pretty," he says in a voice becoming throaty.
"Thanks, kitty," she answers, smirking and blushing. "Can you…?" she asks, turning around.
Her back has always made him crazy. It's finely muscled, powerful, safe.
The zipper of the dress falls to her lower back. Adrien feels his temperature rise when his eyes settle on the curve of her butt.
He instantly closes his eyelids. Calm down, he tells himself. Calm down.
A hand on her waist, he grabs the zipper between his fingers and pulls it up along her back, enjoying her satin-smooth skin.
"I'm freaking out," she whispers.
Adrien, lost in the feeling of having her body so close to his, takes a few seconds to answer back. "It's gonna be okay."
He looks at her shoulders, rising at the pace of her breathing. The zipper is entirely closed, now, but his hand stays at the hollow of her waist.
His fingers slide down her back, appreciating the softness of her dress. "You're shaking?" he whispers in the hollow of her ear. He can feel her shiver under his hands.
She hums with a trembling voice. "But… I'm not sure it's because I'm freaking out."
Marinette has gathered her hair on the side, leaving him free access to her back. Her nape is freed, too, and Adrien makes the most of it by putting his lips on it. Her skin is calling him. He can't help but kiss her, can't help but strengthen the hold of his hand against her waist.
They haven't done anything—or almost—for a month now. It's the same thing every time: they make out, the kiss gains in intensity and something prevents them from going further. It's Marinette who can't, it's Adrien who's afraid to go too far, it's an akuma, it's time they don't have.
And one month is a long time. Especially for a teenager in love, with boiling hormones pretty much all the time.
"Adrien," she whispers, instinctively tilting her head with his kisses, "I want to…"
He hums against her skin. "It's almost our turn." But Marinette arches her back against him and he forgets what turn he's talking about.
"It's for— mmmhh… for relaxing me…"
Adrien smiles against her skin, his lips drifting along her jaw. "You should've said so sooner."
With his arm around her waist, he presses her fully against his body, feeling himself shiver at feeling her ass squeezed against his crotch.
He has to be careful, though: he can't allow himself to make it obvious what's been going on here when he'll be on stage before hundreds of people.
Before Marinette's parents. Good idea. Think about Marinette's parents. But thinking about Marinette's parents makes him think about Marinette. About her body against his, about this dress she's wearing, about her ass—
Something else, he tells himself. Think about something else.
But Marinette is making all these little sounds and it's very hard to think about something else. "We're gonna have a problem," he whispers.
"What?" Her throaty voice isn't helping him either.
"Oh," she lets out. "Oh."
She can feel it. Fuck, he thinks.
But she ends up facing him the second after and she doesn't seem worried at all. Her anxiety turns into mischief which makes him shiver.
"You're scaring me a little," he confesses in face of her smirk.
"I've got an idea."
"Wha—" He doesn't have the time to say one word as her hand grabs his belt. Belt which is undone in a heartbeat. His pants follow without him even having the time to realize what is going on.
"Mari… you sure?"
His sentence has multiple meanings. Is she sure, because it's only a matter of minutes before they'll be called on stage. Is she sure, because the last time they did something like this in school, it didn't end very well.
But, mostly, is she sure, at all?
There isn't any glint of doubt in her blue eyes. "Yes."
It's as clear as it can be. It's her consent.
And it's enough for Adrien to consider this possibility. He pictures her hand sliding inside his pants, pictures it caress him through his underwear, pictures her fingers wandering against him…
This prospect takes him from hypothesis to want. Want becomes need.
Need becomes a nod. "Please," he whispers. He cannot arrive on stage decently in this state.
But, more than anything, he wants to. He desperately wants to.
"With pleasure."
And her hand disappears inside his pants. Adrien ends up against the wall, unable to stand without hanging up on something.
It should worry him, this feeling of dependence she's creating in him—it's been only a month, after all. But her fingers start sliding against his erection and he can't bring himself to care.
His eyelids half-closed, Adrien lets his head fall against the wall, a hand still pressed around Marinette's waist.
Thankfully for him, she doesn't have the time to tease him or make him beg like she loves to—what a cruelty. Her hand quickly ends up inside his underwear, directly against his skin.
Adrien can't hold back the moaning which escapes the barrier of his lips. "Ma— ah… Mari…"
Her hand wraps around his hardness and starts to stroke him, forcing him to squeeze his hand even more against her waist.
He doesn't need to open his eyes to know she's smiling.
The warm wave at the pit of his stomach is gaining in strength, annihilating everything which isn't Marinette. Sounds coming from the stage become secondary, replaced by his own breathing and by Marinette's.
He's only feeling her. Even behind his closed eyelids, he's only seeing her.
Her moves intensify, from their strength and their speed, making him lose his breath. An uncontrollable moan escapes his lips when Marinette's brush his neck. The feel of her gloss makes him shiver.
He's close. His body starts shaking, pleasured shighs leaving his mouth at every new breath and the tension in his lower stomach seems to be ready to explode—is ready to explode.
"I'm gonna—"
Marinette makes her tongue slide along his neck.
"Mari—"
The speed of her thrusts is overwhelming.
"Hmmm," she whispers against his skin.
Adrien has the presence of mind to reach his hand to grab a tissue in the pack lying around them. Entering the stage with a boner is a really bad idea, but presenting themselves in front of so many people with Marinette dirtied with him isn't really more clever.
Marinette doesn't seem to be in the same thought process, though.
His eyelids now half-opened, he meets her cerulean stare when she moves her mouth back from his neck.
"Don't need one."
"But—"
"Shh," she cuts him. "Relax."
The fact that it's her who's telling him to relax is so ironic that he can't help a smile slip on his lips. It quickly turns into a chuckle when Marinette rolls her eyes.
But her thumb caresses the tip of his member again and she lets herself fall on her knees before him and he doesn't want to laugh at all anymore. "M'Lady…"
"Hmmm?"
Their eyes meet in a glance which finishes setting the pit of his stomach on fire.
"It feels really good," he whispers.
Marinette's stare stays anchored on his when her tongue settles where her thumb has been. His head falls against the wall again in a muffled sound. Overwhelmed by the feeling of her lips around him, he lets his hands drop in her hair, unable to string two coherent thoughts together.
Cheering sound from the other side of the wall, intensifying at the rhythm of his coming orgasm.
Harder, harder, harder, and… boom.
His fingers contract in her hair and an ultimate moan escapes from his lips when Marinette's pleasured groans vibrate against him. Her lips stay around him, swallowing every proof of what has been going on between them.
The tsunami of well-being fades little by little, letting him come to his senses and the entirety of his judgment—or close to it.
Marinette drops a kiss on the bottom of his stomach, making him shiver. His eyes staring at her, he observes her standing up, putting his underwear properly on, unbuttoning his pants and closing his belt.
When she looks up at him, Adrien loses himself in the contemplation of her face. The pretty brightness of her skin, the curve of her nose, the scattering of her freckles, the shape of her lips…
Oh, her lips.
She hasn't erased all the proofs, after all.
Adrien feels himself smile. His hands leave the softness of her hair and he puts his thumb against her mouth, wiping the remnants of his orgasm.
Marinette's cheeks warm up and he only smiles more. But she grabs his thumb between her lips, passing her tongue against his skin, and roles are quickly reversed.
"Thank you," he whispers when she releases his finger and wets her lips. "It was… pretty amazing."
"Very relaxing."
Adrien looks at the smile on Marinette's face—the same one he's wearing himself. The hand wound up at the hollow of her waist goes up along her hair, stroking the few locks disheveled by their activities.
Outside, all the cheering has stopped.
Marinette brushes her lips with his. The high-heels she's wearing make it so that she doesn't need to stand on her tiptoes to reach his height.
And Adrien doesn't need to bend to kiss her.
"Mari? Adrien? It's your turn— Seriously?"
They turn their heads at the same time.
Alya is smiling at them, a brow raised.
"C'mon, kids, it's showtime."
Their gazes meet one last time. Adrien almost imperceptibly nods, trying to spread all the confidence he's vowing to her through his eyes.
"You're gonna do great!" Alya says, passing an arm around Marinette's shoulders when she moves toward her.
That, Adrien doesn't have any doubts about.
Even though he's used to the crowd, Adrien has to admit that the amount of people is quite impressive. There is the whole school, which is already considerable, parents, brothers, sisters, friends… and it's a lot.
Especially for Marinette.
Her hand tenses around his when they move toward the stage. He looks at her eyes wide open to the audience, as if she's trying to count it. Adrien caresses her palm with his thumb, trying to reassure her the best he can. Before them, Alya, who has been chosen to present the show, introduces them to the crowd. Too focused on Marinette, Adrien doesn't really pay attention to what she's saying—even though the sentence look how beautiful they are, slightly catches his attention.
When a bunch of cheering sounds and Alya leaves the stage, Adrien isn't sure Marinette is breathing.
"Look at me," he says, loud enough to drown out the cheerings.
Her almond-shaped eyes turn to him and Adrien feels overwhelmed by their beauty.
"Look at me," he says again, "and everything will be alright, okay?"
She nods. He's relieved to see her chest rise: she's breathing.
Marinette gets into position behind the mic, somehow—stress and high-heels don't mix well together, especially for her. Once he's sat at the piano brought up onto the stage for the occasion, Adrien takes a deep breath.
Marinette looks at him.
He nods again, fingers brushing the keys.
She nods back, and Adrien starts playing. Thankfully, he has repeated this exact same melody tens of times and knows it perfectly, which allows him to glance at Marinette.
Her body is already less tense. It always calms her down, hearing him play.
Her voice doesn't shake when she starts singing.
"I can feel you breathing
With your hair on my skin
As we lie here within
The night
I'll pull the sheets
When it's cold on your feet
Cuz you'll fall back to sleep
Every time"
Oh, he loves this song. His fingers dance on the piano's keys when goose bumps spread on his arms.
"Grow old with me
Let us share what we see
And oh the best it could be
Just you and I"
He looks up, meeting Marinette's eyes straight away. She's smiling. His lips automatically curl up in response.
"And our hands they might age
And our bodies will change
But we'll still be the same
As we are
We'll still sing our song
When our hair ain't so blond
And our children have sung
We were right
They'll sing
Grow old with me
Let us share what we see
And oh the best it could be
Just you and I
And the hairs they stand un
And my feet start to thump
Yer the feeling is dreaming
Around"
Marinette's voice will never stop making him shiver, he's sure about it. Especially when she sings such a meaningful song. It's full of promises.
It's a declaration.
"You'll be the one
Make me hurt, make me come
Make me feel like I'm real
And alive"
His eyes leave the keys again to raise into Marinette's. Her smile is now showing her teeth—she's laughing.
A laugh full of emotion, of pride, a laugh into Adrien quickly joins her.
He loves her so much.
"Grow old with me
Let us share what we see
And oh the best it could be
Just you and I
Grow old with me
Let us share what we see
And oh the best it could be
Just you and I"
The last note rings out. Adrien makes his finger slide until they're on his knees, his stare meeting Marinette's again.
Her smile and her dress and everything about her makes her glow. She looks like a gemstone. A diamond.
Adrien wonders how he can be so lucky that a person as amazing as Marinette is on Earth at the same time as him.
And she's his girlfriend? Wow.
When he stands up, a thunderous applause resounds in the room. The audience stands up, whistles, and cheers them. And Adrien realizes that all the staring are on Marinette.
Everyone is looking at her.
He's so happy.
Marinette, after realizing the same thing, returns her gaze into his again—her eyes are sparkling with emotion.
A completely unreasonable want sneaks in his mind: to hug her, kiss her, right here, right now. Marinette then slightly nods at him—she wants it, too.
But Adrien has forgotten something really important: nothing ever happened as planned.
Because when he's about to launch himself at her, a horrible crack echoes.
One second and they're happy and they laugh and they live. The next one the cheering turns into cries.
Adrien throws himself on Marinette when the ceiling falls down onto them.
Marinette cannot see or hear anything. Everything around her is blurry, as if she's buried in fog. Every sound is inaudible because of the permanent whistling in her ears. The only thing she can make out is her heartbeat. One beat. Two. Three.
Marinette starts counting, counting until finding her thoughts back. Until remembering what is actually happening.
The ceiling. She remembers cries, a horrible crack and an impossible hubbub. She remembers jumping on Adrien, remembers he had done the same thing. They had found each other midway, protecting one another as best they could.
A part of her body is muffled in Adrien's arms. She can feel the warmth and the familiarity of his body.
"Marinette!"
For how long has he been calling her? If she trusts the tremors of his voice, it's already been a while.
Her hearing comes back at the same time as her eyesight. The air is grayish, full of dust. But his eyes are still that green.
"Can you move?"
He sits up, a grimace of pain deforming his features. What little rubble has fallen on them is minimal compared to the cinder block and the joists surrounding them.
"Yes, I think so," she answers with a voice she barely recognizes.
But she can't, she realizes.
Because her left arm is trapped under the concrete. Her heart jumps in her chest. Her eyes meet Adrien's frightened stare—he just realized how much she's stuck.
"Adrien—"
"No," he cutts her, his hands on her body, "don't even think about it."
But she thinks about it anyway. He has to let her here and go help the tens and tens of people yelling of pain and fear and despair.
She has superpowers.
They don't.
"I'm gonna transform, and—"
"No," he keeps saying.
His hair is dusty, grayed by the amount of rubble which has fallen on them—and which keeps crashing down from the ceiling.
A hand behind her head, Adrien meticulously examines the heap of concrete trapping her arm.
"Plagg," he calls. "Is everything okay?"
The kwami doesn't have his cocky air when he arrives in Marinette's field of vision. He seems concerned, when his big green eyes are staring at the same thing as Adrien—her injured arm.
She knows what they're thinking.
Her Lucky Charm only works in some ways. For example, it doesn't work for injuries caused before her transformation.
But, mostly, it doesn't work when it's not a matter of akumatisation. And, for now, there is no sign of a supervillain.
Marinette doesn't feel her arm. She doesn't feel anything.
She's not even sure she still has an arm at all.
"Tikki," Plagg croaks with anxiety. "You here, sugarcube?"
She appears from under a concrete block, passing through the material. Her tiny body is covered with grey dust, too, and is shaken by a cough which is concerning Marinette.
"Tikki!" she cries out.
"It's okay," she answers, somehow. "Oh, God, Marinette!"
Marinette closes her eyelids for a moment, the back of her head against Adrien's palm. The hand which is inspecting the extent of the damage falls at the hollow of her waist.
A sob ties her throat. Despite the adrenaline, despite who she is, Marinette is scared. She's frightened.
Frightened for herself, for all the people in this room, frightened for her parents—
"Adrien," she says, opening back her eyes—she would like them to not be full of tears. "Leave me here, I beg you. I'll find a way, or you'll come back for me later." Her voice is broken, at least as broken as Adrien's expression before her.
"I'm not gonna let you here," he breathes.
"My parents are over there!" she sobs.
"And you are here!"
Saying these words hurts him. She can see it on his face, at the tilt of his brows, at the dampness of his eyes, at the quivering of his lips.
It hurts him, because she could tell him anything, but he would still save her first.
"You'll have to use your Cataclysm," she says with fatigue.
"I can hold it longer after using it," he remembers her. "It'll be alright, okay?"
She would like to nod, but her body doesn't have any strength anymore.
Her eyelids are way too heavy.
"Plagg, claws out!"
The green light of his transformation blinds her.
"Cataclysm!"
An endless relief and first-of-its-kind pain hit her at the same time. A cry escapes her lips when her eyes automatically close. "Adrien," she moans between her teeth, "please tell me I still have an arm."
He hums.
Marinette opens back her eyelids. The shock is visible on his face.
"Don't look," he quickly tells her when he realizes she has her eyes open.
She traps her lips between her lips to prevent them from shaking. Chat Noir's shivering hands start to drag her against him.
"No," she orders him.
The gravity of his gaze meets hers once again. "Mari—"
"No. Go help the others."
"But—"
"I'll be fine."
She knows that letting her go and leaving her here is like ripping his heart apart from his chest. A tear runs down his cheek, forming a furrow on his dusty skin.
Marinette raises her right hand and wipes it away with her thumb. "I promise you."
Chat Noir nods, kisses her forehead and disappears in a second.
It's a nightmare.
Even with his heroic sight, Chat Noir can't see anything. The ceiling keeps falling down in some places, raising a dangerous amount of dust. Because if seeing is difficult, breathing is at least as much so.
A real nightmare.
He doesn't know where to begin. There are so many people, so many screams, cries and so much pain.
Should he just begin with the first person he sees? Should he begin with women and children—working on the assumption that he can identify them? Should he begin with securing the area and making a way through the exit?
With his Lady, he feels invincible. Together, they form a strong and solid and unstoppable duo. Alone, he just feels like he's useless.
His instinct tells him to run at Marinette's side and get her out of here as fast as possible. But, despite the painful contraction of his heart, he knows it's not the thing to do.
Because she has a Miraculous. Because she's Ladybug. Because she's Marinette. And if someone is able to get herself out of a situation as desperate, it's her.
But, when he tries to find what—who—to begin with, Chat Noir can't bring himself to get these pictures out of his head: the tears she tries to hold back, the impossible angle of her arm, the state of Tikki.
But these are not desperate tears, her arm isn't in such a deplorable state and Tikki is going to quickly recover and transform her, he tells himself in a loop.
He hates this. Hates when he has to go against his instinct to go accomplish his superhero role, when his instinct is usually the one telling him to do it in the first place.
Except when Marinette is concerned.
He hates the fact that he's so in love with her that she counts more to him than hundreds of people assembled. He hates himself for being so selfish.
Chat Noir pushes this nub of emotions back deep down inside him. Right now is not the time.
Perhaps his sight is debatable, but his mind is already clearer. His ideas find a sense again, forming a plan in his head. The most important is to secure the room to limit the damage and avoid a second catastrophe.
He looks at the ceiling—what's left of it. Thankfully, there is only rubble which is falling, not huge taluses. It's still dangerous, but not mortal—at least, he hopes so.
He has to open a way to the outside. The door is obviously of no use, completely crushed under the ruins. The most simple way seems to be up. The collapse has already cleared up a large part of the ceiling. small well-placed Cataclysm and they can get out of here.
That's the plan. As wobbly as the ruins around him, but it's all he has. It would be so much simpler to have Ladybug by his side. Even any ally would do the job, at this stage. The power of Protection of Carapace would be perfect, though…
Nino, he thinks. And Alya. Both of them had been in the backstage area—him showing a talent, her taking care of presenting the evening. He hopes, hopes with all his strength that they're safe, that they had the time to escape, that the rescue squad has shelter for them.
The rescue squad. The way. Fast.
It's not time to think anymore. It's time to act, like he knows so well to do.
Helping himself with his baton and his heroic agility, Chat Noir pulls himself up on the unstable concrete blocks, holding himself where he can, trying to be the most deft as possible to not weaken the already uncertain balance of all these ruins.
The room is big, even under rubble and dust. But he succeeds in climbing to the highest point of the ceiling, where the welds seem more fragile. If he manages to kick here and use his Cataclysm there…
A series of curse words escapes him when he realizes that he has already used his Cataclysm. But what other choice has he, anyway? Detransform and wait for Plagg to be rested? Use Plagg's power directly? It's completely out of the question, the kwami is way too strong. It's a precise point he needs to destroy, not the whole neighborhood.
His instinct tells him to use his Cataclysm anyway.
Having everything except the time to hesitate, it's what he does. He observes with skepticism the black dots flickering around his gloved hand, looks at his power act exactly where he puts his fingers. Once again, now is not the time to be delighted. He doesn't let the relief drop his guard when he makes his way through the outside.
December fresh air violently hits his sweating face.
He has never been so grateful for his night sight. The rescue squad is already here: firemen and police officers seem to be thinking about the best way to follow.
Chat Noir does his best not to be seen. Because if someone realizes that he has come from the inside of the catastrophe, this person will know he was there, in his civilian self, at the time of the show.
It would be better to keep the suspicions asleep. Especially since he has no certainty that no one has seen him, below.
He buries this idea deep down his brain and frees himself from the ruins, goes to sit at the top of a building and cleans himself from the dust before meeting the rescuers, as if he'd only just arrived.
"Chat Noir! You're just in time!"
Marinette is hot. Cold. She's sweating. She's shaking. She's thirsty. And then she wants to throw up. The only thing that doesn't change is that she's not fine.
She tries to sit up, easy, easy, really easy. It's like every cell is swelling inside her head, so much that they're ready to explode.
"Marinette," calls the weakened voice of Tikki. "You should stay here until Chat Noir gets back."
Perhaps she should, indeed.
But, under all this heap of cells ready to burst, Marinette isn't sure of anything.
She doesn't know if Chat Noir has managed to get out of here, doesn't know if the rescue squad have reached them, doesn't know how long has passed. Perhaps hours, and perhaps that the hundreds of people are still between life and death, without nobody coming to help them.
Her parents.
Her parents are here.
Aching brain or not, wrecked arm or not, anxiety knotting her stomach or not, it doesn't matter anymore. Marinette closes her eyelids for a moment, trying to ignore the cries and the falling rocks sounds around her.
"You're Ladybug, with or without the mask," she whispers to herself. "With or without the mask."
She opens her eyes back.
It's getting dark and the atmosphere is dusty, but if she focuses on this lighten spot escaping from the ceiling… yes, maybe she can make her way through the audience.
Her arm violently brings her back to reality.
For a second, Marinette is relieved about the disastrous lightning of this place. She can see that the angle twisting her arm is definitely not normal, can feel she has lost blood.
A lot of blood, perhaps.
It's not a limb anymore, it's something useless and painful dangling along her body.
Marinette manages to stand up despite it all. She thinks she's going to fall right after, but her legs resist.
"Marinette, I won't be able to transform you in this state—"
"I know, Tikki. It doesn't prevent me from being Ladybug, does it?"
She throws a brave look to her kwami. Tikki answers her with a knowing nod, even with the pain she can see in her eyes.
She had let Chat Noir leave thinking her transformation was an option. But it's not the case, Marinette knows it well. She can see it in Tikki's look—this look usually so optimistic is now veiled with suffering.
Becoming Ladybug in this state is not only dangerous for her kwami, but seems like a suicide mission for herself, too.
With or without the mask, she keeps saying to herself.
Progressing to the audience is hard work. Every step is risky, every crack terrorizes her. If the ruins destabilize, it's over. And Marinette doesn't wish to die crushed under thousands of tons of rubble, so she calculates every move with precision.
It's nightmarish. This spreading of rocks and joists and dust.
Nightmarish.
How long has passed since the cries have stopped? She can only hear her own panting and the sound of her own fear making her heart beat, now.
She hopes, hopes with all her heart that the rescue squad has evacuated the victims. Because otherwise… she prefers not to even think about it.
"Poppy!"
This, is definitely not her breathing or her heartbeats.
"Poppy!"
Marinette focused on the origin of the sound. She drags herself as best she can through the wreckage, trying to make her injured arm move as little as possible, while constantly checking if Tikki is still holding on to her.
"Poppy!"
It's a young woman—about thirty—who's yelling. Despite the weak light, Marinette can see the russet color of her hair, which seems to be reddened by blood, too.
Her frightened eyes grasp onto hers.
"Did you see a little girl?"
Marinette barely has the time to open her mouth when a sob escapes from the young woman's mouth.
"She's five," she explains through her tears, "she's got long red hair, big green eyes. Her name is Penelope, but she prefers Poppy… Tell me you've seen her, please."
"I—"
A shadow on her right interrupts Marinette. A glance immediately attracts her.
"Marinette," Chat Noir breathes with endless relief.
"Chat Noir," the young woman sobs, "I need your help, my little girl—"
Her tears break Marinette's heart.
"There are a lot of children which have already been rescued," he answers in a soft voice. "Follow me, you gotta get out of here—"
"I can't leave without being sure Poppy is not stuck here, somewhere."
"We looked everywhere, on all the ruins you can get stuck, she has to be outside—"
"But she's so tiny! Maybe you've missed her!"
The pain in her arm feels so pathetic, compared to the suffering of this woman. Especially when a fireman arrives and urges her to follow him.
"Please!" she cries out. "Somebody has to find her!"
"I'll find her," Marinette says.
Chat Noir immediately turns to her. The fireman stops moving and the young woman plunges her teary eyes into hers.
"I promise you, I'll find Poppy."
And it's exactly what she's going to do. Because with or without the mask, this heroic vocation never leaves her.
"Thank you," cries the young woman. "Thank you."
The fireman throws a quick glance to Chat Noir and the latter nods—as if to assure him that Marinette isn't going to go anywhere.
"Keep Tikki with you," she says once they're alone.
"You're not serious—"
"Look, there is a way in, here, between the ruins. It's small, but I think I can get in—"
"Marinette!"
Her eyes, which are studying their environment, look up to his.
He's not scared. He's terrified.
"You can't go in there, you're way too tall. And you already used your power, so it would be useless. Moving the ruins would be useless, too: everything would collapse."
She's right, and the suffering in his eyes only gets stronger.
"I told your parents I'd come back with you. I promised them—"
Alive. Her parents are alive.
Relief brings tears to her eyes.
"And you will, okay?"
Her eyes shy away from his, looking at the grotto which has appeared through the ruins.
"Marinette," Tikki breathes, now perched on Chat Noir's shoulder, "be careful, please."
Her throat tightens.
She nods and wipes her tears with the back of her working hand.
"My Lady—"
The tremor of his voice breaks her heart.
"It's gonna be okay," she whispers, more for herself than for him.
It's gonna be okay.
The tunnel she's sinking into is narrow, dark and very oppressive. Her bare feet keep catching against the walls—even though that's better than her ten centimeter heels. Her dress is showing too much skin, too much skin which is scraped by the rubble. She feels something hot run down from her wounds.
Blood. She's losing lots of blood.
If she wants to get out of this hell one day, she has to hurry.
"Poppy!" she calls. "Poppy!"
Her hands are shaking. Her whole body is shaking.
She's scared to death, completely frightened by where she is and by the perspective of never escaping from it.
"Poppy!"
A mewl echoes.
"Poppy!"
Perhaps has she imagined it—
No. She hears the very same noise across the cavities.
Moving on her hands and knees with a bad arm is way harder than she would have thought. Her back is covered with cold sweat, her hair is sticking to her forehead she knows is bloody and dusty.
She's dreaming of a shower, of a huge amount of cold water and painkillers. Especially the painkillers.
"Help me!"
A sob of relief escapes her when red hair comes to her view. The little girl is in a corner, her frail body curled up.
"Poppy," Marinette breathes. "It's okay, I'm getting you out of here."
"My mommy—"
"She's waiting for you outside. Come with me, and you'll find her."
Marinette smiles at her the best she can. "Is that all right?"
Poppy nods and grabs the hand Marinette is offering her.
A monstrous sound resounds. Marinette's first instinct is to throw her arms around the little girl and to curl up on herself.
She hears the ruins collapse, condemning their unique way out.
When she opens her eyes, Marinette has to restrain the anxiety making her heart jump at every new beat. Poppy is right against her, quaking and sobbing.
"I want to get out…"
"So do I," Marinette whispers. "So do I."
And it's exactly what they're going to do.
Blood and sweat are running down around her eyes, making her blink. Marinette manages to distinguish a ray of light among the rubble.
If she pushes with all her strength, perhaps she can clear a way out.
"Okay," she sighs. "Poppy? I want you to hide your face and make yourself the littlest you can. Can you do that for me?"
The little girl looks up at her with her big green eyes and the resemblance with Adrien's hit her. They're so green.
"I'm scared," she weeps.
"I know, Poppy. I'm scared, too." she confesses.
"Really?"
Marinette nods, offering her the most reassuring smile she can. "It's okay to be scared."
"I want to see mommy…"
"I know," she says again. "I know. We're almost there, okay?"
"Okay."
Something happens in her green eyes. She nods with determination and curls up on herself as she has been asked to.
A deep breath later, Marinette positionates herself such as her legs are against the block of concrete she wants to make move.
Praying that all these years as Ladybug and all these hours spent to muscle up every part of her body haven't been useless, Marinette hits as strong as she can.
She pushes with all she has, crying from pain and fear and hope when she hears the concrete piece move.
Her valid arm is forced to participate, and the beam of light is growing, growing more and more.
Sweat is running down her body, her injuries never stop bleeding and her throat is becoming sore through her yelling.
Her eyelids close, open, close again, and Marinette feels her strength leave her at every second when she realizes how the way out is still tiny.
After an undefinable amount of time, Marinette lets herself fall against the wall of this improvised cavern. Breathing is almost impossible.
"Poppy," she succeeds in saying.
The little girl sits up, her lips shaking, her red hair sticking to her face.
"You can go out, look."
"But, what about you?"
Marinette closes her eyes. "Once you're out, you need to find someone. Try Chat Noir. And tell him where I am. Can you do that?"
Poppy nods when she opens her eyelids.
"Good. You're really brave. Now, go."
She slips herself between the ruins and goes out in a few seconds. The tunnel is not very deep.
"You'll go out, too, and you'll find your mommy," Poppy tells her, her green eyes visible through the way Marinette has extended. "I promise."
Her last strength is used in the smile that curls her lips up.
yep, that was a wild ride.
get ready, the two chapters left are action-packed and everything will accelerate. i'm currently at the 11th page out of 22 for chapter 15, so i hope it'll be online by the end of the month!
can't wait to read your thoughts about today's chapter!
have a nice day!
- lucie