A/N Okay so btw update for you all, I'm pretty close to being done writing ahead to the end so now that I know I won't fall behind, I'm gonna go ahead and standardize the chapter updates to Fridays! And it looks like it's gonna turn out to be somewhere in the 14-ish chapters range, give or take depending on where I place the breaks, so we're getting close to all the pieces coming together!

Chat's head snaps up when she raises the cutlass, another hiss escaping his mouth, only to cut it off when the weapon goes flying away from him. She can see the slight confusion as he blinks toward where it went, and that little bit of familiar emotion spurs her on, muting down the fear she's already trying to ignore. He's in there somewhere, and if she's careful, she knows he can come back. She doesn't know why she's so sure of it, but she is.

He looks back to her, his eyes still empty of nothing but intimidating wariness. He's stopped creeping toward her like a predator, though, the fins on his head perking up slightly as he looks at her. Raising her arms, slowly, showing her empty hands to him, Ladybug sinks down to her knees, reducing her height submissively. Chat watches her go, the spines on his back slowly laying down some, and they've stopped dripping acid.

"Chat." She calls in a whisper, and he drops the snarl, his face falling neutral. "It's me. It's okay."

He starts coming toward her again, slowly inching his way across the boards, and she has to swallow the fear she feels as he does. She keeps her hands out and her face as friendly as she can, trying to keep the fear off of it, and waiting with baited breath for what he'll do. The pirate can't be sure this will work, and if it doesn't, her death is creeping closer with each pull of its tail.

She's not ready when he reaches her, she's not ready for the lack of recognition on his face or the cautious way he reaches out for her hand. She's not ready for seeing the blood still under his nails, or the unfamiliar way he grips her skin with too much force. She isn't ready for any of it, and her heart is beating out of her chest, fear trying to choke her. It takes all of her willpower not to jump, not to back away, to make any sudden movements. Part of her knows he won't hesitate if she does, even now, as he leans toward her face and his pupils start widening ever so slightly.

Soon, his face is right in front of hers, and though the murderous vibe is draining away from him, the tension is still palpable, and she can barely breathe. When he touches her, his nose meeting her cheek, she does flinch, and his grip on her hand tightens.

He breathes in. She stops breathing.

Faster than she can realize what's happening, he's lurched forward, knocking her backward and pinning her to the floorboards under his weight. It sends an overwhelming spike of icy adrenaline through her, and she shivers, suddenly torn between intense fear and a fluctuating sense of hope. His other hand finds her free one, and then he's pinning both to the deck as well, leaving her well and fully immobilized beneath him. All the while, his face doesn't leave where he has it pressed against her cheek, until he moves down and she feels his breath on her throat. There's a deep, ominous growl rumbling from within him, and she can't stop herself from trembling. This is it, this is where her luck has decided to abandon her. She was too cocky to think she knew him enough to bring him back to reality.

At least, that's what she thinks.

But instead of feeling teeth and pain when his mouth connects with her neck, there is only a gentle softness, and she squeaks. He breathes again, and she dully thinks he must be recognizing her scent, before sighing and relaxing slightly against her, growling louder. Another ghost of a sensation of his lips across her neck, and he finally releases his hold on her hands, the tension draining from him with each passing second. When she carefully, fearfully, wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him, he collapses completely against her, and finally she can breathe again.

Her heart is still hammering away in her chest, her nerves completely frayed, but the danger has passed and she knows it. Absently, still not entirely back to his senses yet, Chat nuzzles her neck and sighs again. He sounds content, and that's better than before, so she raises one hand from his shoulders to card through his grimy hair, and she finally realizes the growls have turned to a purr.

In the back of her mind, a tiny voice jokes that he needs to decide whether he's a cat or a fish already.

Several long minutes pass, until eventually she hears him mumble something against her neck. She doesn't understand what he said, but it sounded like words instead of a growl, so she stops petting him and cranes her neck to look at him. "Chat?" She asks, quietly, still sort of afraid of sending him off the deep end again. The name is enough to get him to stir, and he pulls away enough to meet her gaze.

His pupils are back to the normal size, and there's a peaceful look on his face for just a moment that she can see. Then he seems to snap out of whatever fog he's in, when he gets a good look at her, and startles fully back to reality.

"Ladybug?!" Chat shakes his head, and finally realizes he has her pinned down to the floor under him. He jolts upright, though he can't seem to figure out how to actually back away from his position between her legs, and she hasn't actually let go of him yet, leaving him stuck where they are currently.

"Glad to see you're back with me." She just jokes, too emotionally drained from that entire experience to actually care about how flustered he's getting.

"I am so sorry, I… I don't know…" He's looking around, trying to piece everything together, and she thinks he's avoiding looking at her. His brows are drawn together, his face tense with apprehension. "I thought I was seeing things that I wasn't, and I… lost it."

"What did you think you saw, Chat?"

"I…"

She waits. He'll find his words eventually.

"I thought… I thought you were hurt."

"How?" She doesn't know why he cares, why he'd go feral over her potentially being hurt when he barely knows her, but she can't really be bothered to question it right now. It's a thought for later, when she doesn't feel like her limbs are made of lead and she wants to sleep off her anxiety for a week.

"I thought she had, c-cut you, with that…" He's struggling to put his thoughts together, his eyes going dark with that same kind of sadness she's noticed in him before. Silent, he just gestures vaguely toward his own stomach, unable to explain further.

Maybe it's because she's so emotionally drained, maybe it's the near death experience, maybe it's the position they're currently in, but whatever it is, what little shame she had is completely forgotten at the moment. Ladybug takes one look at his vague gesture, and wordlessly, pulls her own shirt up to show her perfectly injury-free stomach. "I'm fine, see? You… stopped anything from happening to me."

But her awkward words seem to fall on deaf ears, as he stares wide eyed down at her bared skin, prompting her to raise a questioning eyebrow. It's not until he speaks that she understands why he's staring.

"Is… is that a scar?"

At first, it doesn't immediately click, exactly what he's talking about. But sitting up somewhat, unintentionally leaning into his space and making him go red, allows her to look at her own skin and see what his deal is. The answer snaps into place when she sees it, the patch of paler colored skin on her own stomach not really something she paid much mind to. Ladybug looks back up at him, still confused. What's the big deal about her having a mark on her skin? "I don't really know? It's always been there, it's like a birthmark or something."

She doesn't understand why he looks like he's seen a ghost.