Dr. Ernest Boucher would consider himself lucky. He had a loving wife, and a patient son, who understood the importance of his father's job and didn't take it personally when he had to suddenly leave.
And now, after a 48 hour shift, he was returning home. Exhausted, hungry, and stressed, but home.
"I'm home!" He called in the door.
"Oh honey!" His wife called from the other room. "We just sat down for dinner! Come take a seat, I'll make you up a plate!"
Ernest hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. Home cooking, a hot shower, and to sleep for a few hours in his bed…that's all he wanted.
His wife wrapped an arm around his waist and smooched his cheek. "I made Lasagna."
"Lasagna…I love lasagna…" He said dreamily.
As he came into the kitchen, he saw his son, pouring himself a soda. "Hey Pop! You look like you got hit by a truck!" The boy laughed.
His son was 17 years old, blonde hair, athletic, looked a lot like Adrien. Several times during the surgery, Ernest imagined it was his boy on the table.
He sympathized with Gabriel Agreste, who looked like a complete mess.
"Pop? You good?"
Ernest yanked on his son's arm and pulled him into a tight hug. "Just happy to see you, Kiddo."
With a shrug, Ernest's son hugged his father back.
—
After a filling dinner and a 8 hour night's sleep, Ernest arose. His pager hadn't gone off in the middle of the night. So surely Adrien and Marinette were either in the same place they were, or any minor problems were solved by the team.
He showered, shaved, and got dressed.
His boy was already at school, but had left him a text in the morning.
"You're my superhero!" It read, simply.
The words brought tears to his eyes.
His wife made him breakfast, a big one with lots of protein to keep him full until he had a late lunch. She also filled up his coffee mug with a fancy kind that outdid the hospital brew.
And then, with another kiss, he was back off to the hospital.
Or at least that was the plan. He was not expecting to be swarmed outside his house by the media.
"Dr. Boucher! What kind of surgery did Adrien have?!"
"Is Marinette alright?"
"Did Chat lose his arm?"
"Did Adrien survive from the whipping!?"
"Have you talked to the families yet?!"
"Dr. Boucher!"
"Dr. Boucher, over here!"
Completely overwhelmed, his head swiveled everywhere his name was called until he was dizzy.
"Stop!" He shouted, hands out.
The crowd calmed to a murmur.
"Everyone be quiet! Just give me a moment!"
Well, if he was a little dazed before, now he was wide awake.
The media settled down, waiting to hear him.
"Bring the mics closer, I'm only going to say this once. Then I must get back to the hospital!"
Obediently, the news crews all passed microphones up to the front, where some poor intern was put in charge of holding them up like a bouquet in front of the good doctor.
Ernest clear his throat. "Alright. Due to patient confidentiality, I can't get into specifics. But I can tell you that as of when I left last night, both Marinette and Adrien were alive and asleep. They both received care for several wounds inflicted from Salo, including the flogging. Adrien's arm has not yet been addressed, because of other more serious surgeries first. That is all I can tell you now, thank you."
The crowd parted as he headed to his car, but they continued to ask questions as he climbed inside.
Ernest took a sip of his coffee as he started the car. He wasn't sure how the media found out he was in charge of the team. He didn't worry about it, but it wasn't expected. Some nurse who hadn't read their email probably blurted something to someone.
Oh well. He supposed the nugget he gave was fair enough. After a month of knowing absolutely everything happening to the heroes, and then knowing nothing? It would leave people asking questions.
And with Hawkmoth battling with the auxiliary heroes on the Arc de Triomphe, there probably weren't any more threats to worry about.
He hoped.
—
A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away—away—to an indefinite distance—it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said—
"Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another."
"I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return."
It was a weird dream. No visuals, no feelings. Just a soft voice of a mother recanting a story. She spoke quietly, tenderly, just a hum above a whisper.
Then she felt sensations. Pins and needles of sleepiness in her toes, the ache and twinge of long set wounds.
Her knees ached, as they were unaccustomed to having her legs stretched out. But she found she lacked the strength to move.
Was she awake? Or asleep? Neither, she supposed, balancing on the edge of both. That blissful state of absolute comfort.
Slowly, Marinette back tracked in time. What did she remember?
The haunting image of Adrien bleeding out in that chair, watching him collapse in the hall, his slowly languid breaths in that room.
And then a haze. They moved, somewhere. Wetness, like rain. Running?
It was like looking through a thick cotton curtain, muffling sound and sight.
And now she was here. Wherever 'here' was.
Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I was still incredulous.
"Do you doubt me, Jane?"
"Entirely."
"You have no faith in me?"
"Not a whit."
It was the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. A soft bed, cradling her as if she was fragile, and a warm blanket weighing her to the bed. A soft ambient light held back the darkness, but didn't pierce through her lids.
Marinette tried to open her eyes, caked as they were. The light was dim, illuminating gridded ceiling titles immediately above her. It smelled faintly of chemicals, while a droning hiss carried through the air. Her neck ached, but as she tilted her head, she briefly looked around the room. No one to her left, though she did see a strange machine and a metal stand, an IV stand. A tube ran from the bag down to her arm. A door cracked open revealed a bathroom and another door on the far side of the room was closed, but silhouetted figure stood in the window.
To her right, she found the owner of the voice, her own mother, sitting in a chair by her side, hand in hers, and reading from a book. Jane Eyre, as it looked. Farther down the bed, her father sat in another chair, his hand wrapped loosely around her foot.
Behind her parents, orange light filtered through the light curtains.
A bright red blob caught her attention. Tikki laid curled up on her chest.
A moment more, allowing her brain to digest all she could see, and she realized she was in a hospital.
The how and when escaped her.
"What, me!" I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness— and especially in his incivility—to credit his sincerity: "me who have not a friend in the world but you- if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?"
"You, Jane, I must have you for my own—entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly."
"Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight."
"Why?"
"Because I want to read your countenance—turn!"
"There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer."
"Marinette?" Her father interrupted.
Marinette didn't respond verbally, not knowing if she had the strength to do so. Instead, she squeezed her hand and twitched her foot.
Warm lips pressed to her forehead, as she came to find a mask on her face. She couldn't speak, even if she wanted to.
"Just sleep, my darling." Sabine said softly. "You're very tired."
She was. That was true.
The warmth, the quiet, the softness, it was soothing.
Safe.
Sleep.
Safe.
Safe.
Adrien.
She awoke with a jolt. It had only been a few minutes, so she thought, but the room was different. Brighter. Day light peered in the window, and her father was gone.
"Honey? Are you okay?" Sabine asked, seeing Marinette startle awake. That wasn't supposed to happen.
"Adrien." She said, in response.
Understanding came over Sabine's face. "Yes darling, he's here. He's in ICU. He'll be okay."
She pulled on the mask that covered her face, immediately struggling to breathe. "I need to see him!"
Sabine just calmly replaced the mask. "You're in no shape to go anywhere."
Marinette grabbed her wrist. "Where is he? Where's Chat?" She began to cry.
Sabine pressed a button nearby. "Ssh, darling. He's alright. Just relax."
Marinette shook her head, forcing the mask from her face. "I don't believe you! I need to see him! Adrien!"
A female nurse hurried into the room. "Oh dear, she's up!" The woman smiled.
"She wants to see Adrien."
The nurse came to the bed, clasping Marinette's hands. "Oh honey, I know you do. But you're in no shape to get out of bed."
"I don't care! I need to see Adrien! Please!" Her voice was breaking, as she desperately tried to get out of the bed. She was exhausted, and everything hurt as she moved.
"I'm sorry dear, but you need to calm down." The nurse pressed the mask back to her face and held it there, as her other hand went to the machine at her side.
"Let me go! He needs me! Please I don't want to leave him alone!"
The nurse petted her hair gently. "Shh, just relax. Breathe. Breathe nice and deep."
"No! No! No…no…" she felt weaker. Her vision blurred as the room tilted.
Sleep. Her brain demanded.
Sleep.
Sleep.
Sleep.
Adrien.
She jolted again. Wakefulness coming to her quite quickly. Things had changed again, though she was only out for a few minutes, right? Except, now it was dark outside, and both of her parents were missing.
"Marinette! You're awake again!" Tikki chirped, floating in front of her.
Marinette stared, not knowing what to say. Surely there should be some tearful reunion, right? Or perhaps shame or guilt?
But her mind was in one place.
"Tikki, spots on."
Tikki had a millisecond to gasp before being sucked into the earrings.
The suit disconnected her from all the tubes and wires. The needles in her veins were forced out, the pads on her chest were peeled off. She ripped the mask off, finding it difficult to breathe again, but not eager to go back to sleep.
All resulting in alarms blaring.
Ladybug had to act quickly to find him. She pushed up, her arms trembling with the action. Her back twinged, as her torn flesh stretched and twisted.
By time she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the nurse appeared. A male nurse this time, roughly the same age as her father, and built like a fridge.
"Whoa there, little lady!" He rushed to her. "You can't be getting up. Do you need to use the bathroom? We can get you a bedpan."
She swatted him away, "don't touch me!"
"What are you trying to do, Ladybug? Let me help you before you hurt yourself."
"I'm going to see Chat! And you're not going to stop me!" She glared at him, daring him to try to stop her.
He studied the intensity of her glare, and sighed. "Alright. Just relax a second, alright?"
She didn't, but stopped trying to stand.
"My name is John, I'm the night shift nurse for you."
She looked at him blankly.
"Now," he took her hand gently. "I will take you to Adrien, but we have to do it the hospital way, okay? You don't want to hurt yourself more, right? Chat wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
She softened at the tone. "You'll take me to him?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I'll take you to your husband."
Husband.
So that wedding really was official after all? It hadn't felt real. No one treated them like husband and wife. They were only treated like garbage.
Her shoulders relaxed, fist uncurled, jaw unclenched. "What's the hospital way?" She asked.
"I'm going to get you a wheelchair. We'll reconnect you to the IV, because you've got to get your fluids up. Then we'll stay for a little while, but when it starts hurting too much, we'll bring you back."
"I can't stay with him?"
John knelt in front of her, and held her hands tightly. "Ladybug, Adrien is in critical condition. He lost a lot of blood. We gave him a blood transfusion, but the rest is up to him. He needs constant surveillance."
"Is…is he going to be okay?"
"I think so. He hasn't passed yet."
"How long was I asleep?"
"You were admitted four days ago. You've been in and out of sleep for the last two."
She frowned, considering this. Finally, she relented. "Spots off."
In a flash of pink, Marinette returned, and with her, more pain. She cried out, as John squeezed her hand.
"I'm going to go get that wheelchair, alright? Stay seated, please." And he hurried out of the room.
Marinette rested her hands on her knees. Her very knobby, scabbed over knees. She wore thick socks, which made her stick legs look even smaller. She was covered in all sorts of cuts and bruises she hadn't seen in the dark, and her right hand, which had been branded, was wrapped with thick gauze.
She dared not look in the mirror.
"Marinette?" Tikki asked, sadly.
"I'm sorry, Tikki," was all she could say.
"You don't need to apologize." The kwami nuzzled against her cheek. "I'm just glad you're safe now. Things are going to be weird, and you might be a little irrational. But that's okay. I still love you."
Marinette shuttered at the affection, reaching up to hold her against her cheek. "I love you too Tikki."
John returned shortly, pushing a chair along. "Here we are."
At his arrival, Marinette pushed against the mattress and tried to slide to the floor. But as her feet made contact, a sharp pain bolted up her legs and she moaned in pain.
"I gotcha," John directed her to sit, not allowing her to stand for more than a second. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you."
"What…what's wrong with my legs?" She asked as the pain subsided.
"You have infection in both of your feet. From running around the catacombs for several hours with no shoes on."
She hummed in understanding.
Carefully, John eased her into the foot rests. Then he had her hold out her arm so he could reattach the IV. "This is a saline solution, just to get your fluids up. You're still pretty dehydrated."
"I'm thirsty." She admitted.
"I'll get you some water in just a second, okay?"
Marinette couldn't watch as he inserted the needle, but did look after he started to secure the tube for the IV. "Its…bizarre."
"What's that?"
"It's…so strange to have you be nice to me. Like…I know you're a nurse, and that you're only trying to take care of me…"
"But you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, right?"
She nodded.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Marinette. I might boss you around a little, but I only have your best interests at heart."
She decided to relax then, leaning back. Her back twinged with the movement. "Agh," she hissed.
"When we get back, I'll get you some pain killers."
"…thank you."
Marinette was escorted into the hall, and they almost immediately were stopped by a man in a white coat.
"John? What do you think you're doing?" He spoke firmly, but calmly. "Miss Dupain-Cheng should not be out of bed."
"She shouldn't." John agreed. "But I found that she is liable to hurt herself if she doesn't see Mr. Agreste. She transformed."
"Ah," the doctor nodded, in understanding. Then he crouched so that Marinette didn't have to crane her neck to look at him. "Hi Marinette, I'm Dr. Boucher. I'm the main physician for you and Adrien."
She didn't say anything, just studied him.
"I know you probably have a hard time trusting anyone right now, but I promise—"
"Stop wasting my time." She bit, pain starting to creep into her body without the aid of painkillers. "I was promised to see Adrien."
The doctor smirked. "Yes, of course my dear. John, I will relieve you, if you would go tell the parents where Marinette will be? I believe they are having dinner at the cafeteria right now."
"Yes sir."
"Thank you. I'll meet you in ICU." He took hold of the chair and started to push her towards the elevators.
"Are you sure I can't stay with him?" Marinette whispered.
"No, my dear. I'm very sorry. I'll take you to see him, but I'll warn you that he looks very scary right now. A lot of tubes and wires all over him. But I promise it's very his best interest."
Marinette didn't outwardly react, but she did feel saddened.
Over the years, Ladybug had seen Chat Noir die several times. Whether it was turning into something, vanishing completely, or hitting the side of a building too hard.
But after the cure, he always bounced back to his normal pun-loving self.
However, this was different. Of course it was. No kwami, no powers, no five minute alarms blaring in her ears. All of it was permanent. She knew that in her head.
But her heart didn't want to see his scars.
Dr. Boucher wheeled her to an elevator, and then pressed the button for the ground floor. The back wall of the elevator was a window that looked out into the courtyard. In the night, she could look across the yard to a set of large windows, showing the cafeteria, busy with people.
The elevator came to rest, and she was led into the hall.
This was a very nice hospital, with art and sculpture along the walls. As they passed various rooms, nurses and doctors alike spotted her and stared as she went.
"They're looking at me." She told the doctor.
"They mean no harm." He assured. "You should know that you and Adrien are the biggest topic of conversation in Paris right now. Everyone is curious to hear how you are."
"It's none of their business," She bit.
"It's not." He confirmed. "But…that woman made it everyone's business. They just want a happy ending."
Marinette gripped the armrests. "So do I."
"Recovery won't be easy, but you have a wonderful support network. And I have several therapists for you both to utilize. That should make it easier for you."
Marinette didn't respond, only digested the information given.
Before too long, they arrived at a room in ICU, being guarded with a police officer. He frowned when he saw Marinette.
"I'd like to see Adrien." She said sternly.
The man just looked at the doctor. "Far be it from me to stop this…but she should be up?"
"It's only for a visit. It's alright."
The man nodded, and allowed them in.
Marinette's eyes immediately fell on the figure in the bed. He was barely visible under all the tubes and wires, and bandages. He was leaning to his left, propped up with pillows, so he wasn't resting flat on his back. She could see his bruised eyes, as his face had a heavy mask strapped to it. Some stray locks of hair stuck out from the strap that led over the top of his head. His left hand had a tube taped to it and a oximeter clamped on his finger. A blanket was pulled up to his sternum, making his chest visible, but it was covered in pads and wires, as well as the tubes that ran into his mask. Under all that was a thick gauze right in the middle of his breast bone, taped on all sides. His right arm, which had been dislocated, was in a sling, resting against his stomach. His hand, wrapped in gauze, rested on top of a Ladybug doll, the one she had made herself. Plagg rested in the crook of his wrist.
"Adrien?"
"He's sedated right now, which is for the best. He's intubated so he can breathe better. It would be painful if he was awake."
"Bring me closer."
"Please don't move him."
Marinette reached out and rested her hand on his wrist, careful not to accidentally nudge his arm. Her thumb rubbed over the frigid skin, trying to give him some heat.
Plagg awoke at the movement, flicking his eyes up. Many hands had come and gone in the few hours he and Gabriel had finally been allowed to see Adrien. Ever watchful, he took note of the nurses, and what they were doing, what they were checking, applying.
But seeing Marinette had confused him for a moment, because he hadn't recognized her immediately.
But then he saw Tikki on her lap.
"Pigtails?"
"Hi Plagg," though there wasn't much warmth in the greeting. She did scratch him between the ears with her finger. He only looked at her sadly.
"He's cold." She told the doctor.
"I can get him another blanket." He stated as he moved from behind her. "Stay put."
She studied Adrien's eyes, closed to slumber, but twitching slightly. The ECG graphed his steady heart beat, and the ventilator pumped air at a calm rate. Yes, he looked scary right now, but admittedly, he looked better than he had in the hell hole. He looked peaceful, comfortable, and not at all like he was fighting for his life, though he very obviously still was.
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to that sliver of skin. "I'm right here, Kitty. I want to stay with you, but I'm not allowed to." She wiped a gentle tear from her eye. "But I think we'll be together soon. Once you're healed enough. So get better soon, please."
Tikki floated from Marinette's lap and hovered over him. "Plagg? Where's the worst injury?"
"…I don't know." Said the kwami. "It's…it's all pretty bad."
"Probably his back." Provided Marinette. "It was right…right down to the bone."
Tikki nodded and flew over to his other side. Very gently, she nuzzled into his spine.
Adrien's eyes twitched more, before they settled.
"It probably didn't do much," Tikki stated. "But it will help."
"Would it help if you stayed with him?"
"He'd have to wear the earrings to get any benefits from me." She looked meaningfully to his ears, which were bright red in most spots, while the top of his left ear was gone, stitches in place. "I don't thing we should attempt that now."
Marinette moaned, feeling helpless.
But Plagg wouldn't stand it. "Hey, I've got some healing properties too, you know!" He floated into her face and nuzzled against her cheek, purring. The sound reverberated into her skin, her sinuses, her skull, her spine…she felt a little better. "I just have to keep purring. So tell someone to make sure I'm properly fed with cheese."
"Oh Plagg…I will. I absolutely will." Her voice filled with emotion.
"Oh kid…don't cry. I'm just trying to keep things light."
Doctor Boucher had returned to the room, but stayed in the doorway, watching with curiosity but privacy. When he noticed Marinette's tears, he approached her. "How is your pain?"
"I'm not ready to leave yet." She answered by deflecting.
"Okay. Just let me know." He unfurled the blanket he'd fetched, and carefully started to drape it over Adrien's legs.
"His hands are cold." She argued.
"That's normal for someone with blood loss. Though he's had a transfusion and should be alright now, he's not moving, so his circulation isn't very good."
"But he's cold. Can't you cover him?"
"Not just yet. You can hold his hand though. Just watch the bandages."
Marinette said nothing, just held his fingers a little tighter.
She wanted to climb up on the bed with him, snuggle up under his chin, and press delicate kisses to his cheek. But hearing that it would be bad for him stopped her from just ignoring everyone and embracing him.
This wasn't fair.
"When do you think he'll wake up?"
Dr. Boucher sighed. "We'll keep him sedated a week, at least. Maybe more. We will bring him out of sedation for about an hour a day, but the goal is to keep his anxiety reduced, especially while he's on the ventilator."
"So I won't be allowed to see him." Marinette finished.
"Unfortunately, no. His father and Plagg will be here for him, though."
It was then that Marinette realized that Adrien wasn't wearing his Miraculous. "Plagg, where's the ring?"
"Gabriel has it."
"Shouldn't Adrien be wearing it?"
"You'll have to forgive me, Marinette." Said the doctor. "I'm the one that suggested he not give it back to him just yet. I worried that Adrien might try to transform at the first chance he was given. And given that you did, my theory is correct."
Marinette sighed, hating that she had been caught.
"You're not in trouble, and we don't blame you for doing it." The doctor clarified. "We just can't have either of you doing that. It won't help."
"I understand." She rubbed her thumb over Adrien's knuckles. "Thank you for letting me see him. I've been worried."
"Of course. What's your pain level?"
"Just a little longer, please."
"Alright."
It was then that nurse John came, accompanied by her parents, and a disheveled homeless man.
"Marinette! You shouldn't be out of bed!" Her mother scolded.
"She knows." Said Dr. Boucher. "But this is necessary to keep her calm. I'm watching her."
The nurse brought over a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw. "Here you are, Marinette."
"Thank you." She said, taking it skeptically.
Everyone watched as she popped the lid, shook the ice around, and smelled it. Then she sipped a little bit through the straw. At the relaxed look on her face, it was obvious she found the water to be clean. She popped the lid back on and sucked more down. "This is really good."
"It's just water," said Sabine, eyes watering.
"It tastes good."
The disheveled homeless man spoke. "I'm so glad to see you awake, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I hadn't get to check in on you since you were loaded into the ambulance."
She hunched her shoulders. "Who are you?"
He chuckled weakly, rubbing a hand over his short beard. "I'll admit I look pretty bad. But I didn't realize I was unrecognizable."
"It's the beard, Gabriel." Said Sabine. "It suits you though."
"Gabriel? Gabriel Agreste?"
"Who else would be here with Adrien?"
She frowned. "Don't know. Anyone else. Nathalie? The Gorilla? Never like you supported him before."
"Marinette…" Sabine chastised, horrified at her behavior.
But the Marinette from the torture chamber was not known for kindness or tact. She didn't flinch at her mother's rebuke.
"I suppose I deserve that." Gabriel said sadly. "Plagg has informed me that I…I may be a sociopath. This was something I wasn't aware of before. I'm trying to improve my behavior. I'm sorry if you felt like I neglected Adrien. Things are going to be different now."
Marinette cast her eyes over to Adrien, to her husband. "A shame this had to happen for you to see that."
"Marinette!" Sabine exasperated.
Marinette winced, as a headache started to grow, and her wounds ached.
"I think it's time we got you back." Said Dr. Boucher. "We'll get you some dinner too, hm?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Do you think you could choke down some soup? You really need to eat something."
"I said I'm not hungry!" She barked, triggering a coughing fit. The doctor simply rubbed her back as she rode it out. After it subsided, she sobbed. "I don't want to leave him!"
The doctor crouched at her side. "Marinette, I promise you, Adrien's not leaving this hospital without you. He's safe. You're safe. It'll only be for a little while, and then we'll put you in the same room together. Okay?"
She glared at him.
"But you're making yourself worse by staying here like this. You're so brave, and so smart…but let me take care of you for a little while, okay?"
A few more tears leaked out. "It hurts."
"Then let's get you back upstairs, and we'll give you pain killers, okay?"
"Okay."
"Thats a good girl!" He smiled.