Chapter Two

ALYA

Adrien was conscious again, some seven minutes later. The cops still stood around where he lay, watching with wary expressions as his eyes flew open. His breathing became immediately harsh, ragged, and his attention flitted between them quickly—too quickly.

And then he was on his feet, faster than anyone could really register. Grabbing the cop closest to him by the collar with his bloodied hands, he shoved him harshly into the lamppost nearby, lips curled into a snarl as he pushed him up off his feet.

"Where is she?!" he growled—really growled—and the other cops were fumbling to draw their Tasers.

"T-the hospital!" his victim sputtered out, one of the cops finally managing to pull out a Taser. Taking aim, they pushed the button just as Adrien dropped the man he'd been holding to the ground.

With unexpected grace, he spun and ducked, the Taser shooting right over him as he flew forward. Alya gasped, Adrien reaching out with strong, steady hands toward the man who'd taken aim. He grabbed the cop's wrist and twisted, perhaps with the intent to break the bone, and the cop yelped.

This was out of control. She hadn't been able to do something before, but Alya could try now.

"Adrien!" she shrieked, pushing herself away from Nino. "Stop it!" She'd closed her eyes, not wanting to see any more, and balled her hands at her sides. "Stop it right now!"

When silence was what followed, she found the courage to look again.

The cops still had their Tasers drawn, but they weren't firing. Rather, Adrien was standing in the middle of them, fingers still curling into claws as he stared directly at Alya. He was breathing through wide nostrils, his arms coated and his shirt soaked in red. It was a gruesome, terrifying sight, and Alya almost wanted to run.

But, as though seeing the terror in her expression, his own finally cleared some. He blinked, his snarl becoming a gape. Realization dawned on him, his attention flitting around to cops still on alert. But he didn't go for any of them. Rather, he seemed to sway some on his feet, one of his hands coming up to his forehead, leaving a red smudge in its wake.

"I'm sorry," he managed to sputter out, not heeding the warnings from the Tasers as he stumbled forward. The cops didn't shoot, and so he fumbled his way past Nino and Alya, up onto the sidewalk and into the yard beyond. It was the outskirts of a park, his march coming to a stop when he found some leverage against a tree. There, he began to shake again, falling to his knees.

"We'll take care of him," Nino was saying behind her, Alya watching as Adrien folded in on himself, bowed over as though he might be sick. "Don't worry, he's just upset. He'd not dangerous."

Clearly he was, but the cops still had to deal with the accident, with the blood and the onlookers and the driver of the truck. They didn't have time for a melodramatic teenager, and so they nodded and headed off with one last look in Adrien's direction.

"Holy shit," Nino was muttering over and over again as he came up beside her, sweaty as he rubbed his hands together. They were both watching Adrien now, until a police officer came up and distracted them. They were asked who the girl was, who her parents were, how they could contact them. Alya gave out all the information robotically, told shortly after to make sure she and Nino stayed at the scene for further questioning.

That was when it caught her eye. The slight movement in the grass beside Adrien. She'd been about to set her attention back on him. He was curled up against the tree now, crying and staring out at nothing—like he was seeing something else entirely. But beside him, something was moving. Something Alya had seen before.

"Marinette's purse," she murmured before beginning to head forward across the grass. Her eyes zeroed in on it. It must have flown off when she'd been hit, tossed aside. But now it was being dragged through the grass, somehow, and had come to a halt just beside Adrien.

But he wasn't paying attention, and so it was Alya that fell down beside it, picking it up gingerly. She could feel Nino hovering just behind her, looking between herself and Adrien warily, but she didn't let it faze her. Rather, she gaped down in shock at the two big, green eyes blinking up at her. A small black body had been under the purse, dragging it across the lawn. And even as she held the purse, Alya could feel movement inside it.

Not knowing what she was looking at or what to think, she popped the clasp on the purse, a red blur shooting out the second she did.

"Marinette!" a small voice screamed, zooming off before coming back and zooming off again. "Marinette!"

"Tikki! Calm down!" the black smudge scolded, zipping up and grabbing the red blur before yanking it back down to the grass again. "You're going to make it worse than it already is!"

"Plagg!" the red blur—a small, black spotted thing—pleaded, grabbing the black one with tiny arms. "Where is she?! Where is Marinette?!"

"They took her to the hospital," Plagg said quietly.

"I need to go see her!" Big blue eyes were crying. "If you're here, then where's Chat Noir?! He'll get us there, right? Right?!"

Plagg didn't say anything, instead seeming to gulp (if such creatures could do so), before glancing hesitantly up at Adrien. Adrien, who still seemed to be in some kind of silent shock.

Tikki caught on immediately. "Chat Noir!" She zoomed up into Adrien's face, her tiny voice squeaking. "We have to go to Marinette! We have to-"

"Tikki! Stop! Someone will hear!" Plagg hissed, grabbing her before dragging her back down. "We can't risk-"

Approaching footsteps caught Alya's attention. Reaching out, she quickly herded the two creatures into Marinette's purse, ignoring the squeaks of protest, before turning her head over her shoulder to face the two police officers heading toward them.

More questioning. More remembering. No answers. Alya just wanted it to be over.

oOo

ADRIEN

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there. He wasn't sure of anything. His whole body felt numb and he just wanted to lay down and die. Maybe that was what he was in the process of doing. It was cold beneath him, and the lights above his head flickered some. His cheek was flattened, telling him he was in fact lying somewhere.

But he didn't have it in him to care where. Because everything was red and Marinette's words were still in his head, banging around so hard that it was giving him a headache. Or maybe that was just the pain, the agony he knew his body was numbing him to because it was too much. Overload. It was easier to die than face this. To live without her.

Ladybug.

"He's awake," someone said above him, their voice sounding slow. "Here, see if he'll sit up and drink something." It was familiar. Alya, maybe. Perhaps that made sense.

"Hey, c'mon man, you got to sit up." That was Nino, Adrien's brain finally managing to catch up with their words. "You've been in and out for the last two hours. You got to drink something."

He didn't want to get up. He wanted to lie there forever. But Nino was pulling on his shoulders, as if to force him up, and the jostling shook some kind of movement into him. Bracing his hands against the chill of the floor, he sat up, his head swimming and dizzy as the room threatened to upend itself before him.

"Hey, you're alright, man," Nino muttered. "Deep breaths."

He didn't bother with the command, instead swallowing hard. He was hit by the pain then, the dryness of his throat as it burned, and he cringed against it.

"Here, drink this." Alya held a cup rather forcefully up to his lips, drawing his attention despite himself. Reaching out with a shaky hand, he accepted the offered beverage, only taking physical satisfaction as the cool liquid coated his throat. But, without the burning, it made everything else come into focus.

He wasn't sure if he wanted that or not.

"I'm not trying to be pushy," Alya said a second later, Adrien's eyes slowly looking her way, "but I found this." Was that Marinette's purse?

Marinette.

"And there are these… things."

"We're not things!" Plagg yelled from inside the purse. "Will you let me out?! You cannot continue to hold me prisoner, foul woman!" He must be really angry, or so Adrien thought only quickly. He only let loose the dated insults when he was at his worst.

Reaching out and ignoring the constant quiver in his hands, Adrien popped the clasp on the purse, Plagg bursting out a second later. He zoomed immediately into the collar of Adrien's jacket, glaring out at Alya and Nino through slitted eyes.

The other kwami floated up out of the purse at a considerably slower pace.

Adrien had never seen her before, Ladybug's kwami. But he could tell by the way her arms and legs sagged, and how her antennas hung, that she was in bad shape. Cupping his hands together, he held them out. The little kwami floated down into them, looking up at him with sad, hopeless eyes.

"Chat," she squeaked out. "Is Marinette okay?"

The question hit him like a spear to the gut.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, his voice scratchy and strained. "I don't… I don't know anything."

"She's in surgery right now," Alya cut in, the red kwami—Adrien remembered her name was Tikki—turning to look up at her. "She's been in surgery for two hours, and I… I think it's probably going to be a long time yet."

"She's…" Adrien found the words were choking him as he tried to get them up. "She's alive?"

"I… For now," Alya said carefully. "They… they warned us before she went into surgery that…" She tried to gulp back her tears and failed. "That she might not make it. She's in really bad shape."

But, for the moment, she was alive. As if he'd previously been floating, Adrien's whole world abruptly rocked back into place. So harshly, in fact, that it sent his stomach churning, the nausea riding up through him before he could do anything to stop it.

"Oh shit," Nino swore, standing abruptly. He grabbed the trashcan nearby, slamming it down before grabbing Adrien by the arm and hefting him to his feet. His quick thinking paid off, Adrien's whole body lurching as he gripped the edges of the trash bin.

As if recoiling from the previous fear of having lost her completely, his stomach threw everything up. He heaved, unable to control it, and was only minutely aware of the supportive hand on his back. And yet his body continued to retch, even long after his entire day's worth of food was gone.

By the time it was over, he was trembling all over, sweating, and once again watching the room dance in front of him. Carefully, Nino helped him sit back down on the floor, pushing the trashcan back with his sneaker.

Alya came jogging back a second later, paper towels in hand. She gave them to Adrien, who did his best to wipe his mouth even as his body clattered all around him.

He could feel it now, the actual cold, which only made his shivering worse.

"Where are we?" he asked a few moments later, leaning his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes.

"We're in the hospital," Alya explained. "The police gave us a ride here after they were done questioning us. They… they tried to question you, but you never gave any response. We told them we thought you were… in shock."

"They tried to call an ambulance for you too, but then you got up." Nino took over. "You never said anything, but you were… calm enough. You rode with us here and everything. And then you just wandered down the hall."

"Like you were looking for someone…" Alya finished quietly.

"We trailed you, and eventually you collapsed here. We've been sitting with you since." Nino pursed his lips. "You don't remember any of that?"

"No…" Not that he was entirely surprised.

Alya gulped. "Marinette's parents got here a little after we did. I still can't believe this happened."

Neither could Adrien. Marinette—Ladybug—was supposed to have the best luck in the world. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wouldn't be surprising if Adrien got hit by a truck, but there wasn't even an akuma involved.

"This is fucked up," he said aloud, quite unintentionally. Both Alya and Nino appeared surprised at his language, but he didn't bother acknowledging it. After all, they had to of put the pieces together by now. Not like Chat Noir was the type to watch his language. "How many people saw the kwami?" he asked a second later, if only to distract himself. It didn't bother him how steely his voice sounded.

"Uh, n-no one," Nino replied quietly. "Except us."

"And we kept them hidden," Alya finished.

"Good. Thank you," Adrien said a bit too formally, aware of the way both his friends shied a bit at his tone. Much like he had when his father had addressed him, once upon a time. Before he and Ladybug had put the man in prison.

Brushing such thoughts from his mind, Adrien suddenly pushed himself to his feet. He swayed a bit and Nino braced to catch him. He didn't fall, however, Plagg's tiny claws clipping his neck to hold on as Tikki floated up beside him. She must have darted out of the way when he'd puked his guts out.

She settled into the other side of his jacket collar, quite as though she belonged.

"You didn't know, did you?" Alya asked as he'd begun to walk away. He froze at her words, a chill running down his spine in the same moment. "You didn't know until today, did you?" she continued on bravely. "That Marinette… That she was Ladybug."

His lips pursed some, his insides once again fighting themselves as he tried to come up with an appropriate answer. "We agreed not to tell each other," he said stiffly.

"You two have been fighting together for over two years," Nino stated. "And you never knew?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" he replied. It was too sharp, he knew that. Unnecessary. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he pulled his attention away from them, dragging his feet down the hall, though he knew not where it lead.

Hospitals weren't exactly that difficult to maneuver in, though, and soon he was walking through a doorway that opened up into a waiting room. And, apparently, it was the right waiting room, as Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain were sitting there. They turned to watch as he entered, probably hoping for someone else, and gaped soon after.

Which, really, he couldn't blame them for. Guilt over his conduct hit him for the first time after that. Because he'd blown his way into the waiting room covered in Marinette's dried blood without even a single consideration for the affect it'd have on anyone else.

"Sorry…" he mumbled out shortly after, his eyes darting to the men's room on the right. Yanking his gaze from the Dupain-Chengs, he went right for it, swinging the door in rather violently as he entered.

Taking a steadying breath, he went to the sinks, seeing himself for the first time that afternoon.

He was a mess. Not that this surprised him. His hair was disheveled, messy, and his skin was a clammy pale. His eyes were red from crying, and shadowed beneath from exhaustion. Dry lips completed the looks, as well as the stains splashed across his arms and front.

The sight nauseated him again, and he had to close his eyes against it. Putting his hands on the sink for support, he balanced there for a moment. Just long enough to find some kind of leverage. And once he had, he set his attention on his arms in the sink, turning on the water and grabbing paper towel that he then used to scrub at the bloody stains.

He knew he was rubbing too hard, that it wouldn't take much to wash the evidence away, but it felt satisfying to do it. To scrub at his skin until it glowed a bright, painful red. Not red like blood, just red with grief.

"I think you've done enough, man," Nino said quietly, coming up behind him. He removed the paper towel from Adrien's hands, shutting off the water shortly after. "Here, I bought this for you in the gift shop." He was holding out a clean, white shirt. "Do us all a favor and put it on before Marinette's parents see you again."

Was he being reprimanded? Adrien figured he probably deserved it.

"And get it together a bit, will you?" Nino dared to say. "I get that she's your partner and everything," understatement, "but if that's true, then the least you can do is quit acting like an asshole. I doubt Ladybug would approve."

Adrien wanted to snap back at him, to tell him that he didn't know the first thing about Ladybug or what she'd think, but another part of him knew his friend had a point. He was in the same boat as the rest of them. All they could do was wait. An out of control temper wouldn't help matters any.

"Alright," he agreed softly, taking the shirt from Nino. With a nod, his friend exited the bathroom again, Adrien swiftly changing before throwing his old stuff in the trash. He wasn't sure how kosher such was, but that certainly wasn't something he had the attention span to worry about. Instead, he brought his jacket to the sink and scrubbed at the dirtied parts of it, Tikki and Plagg doing their best to help him. It wasn't totally clean, but it was black, so it hid most of the stains.

Pulling it back on, the kwamis slipped into his collar again, hidden away and watching all the same.

There was blood on his pants too, but there wasn't much to do about that other than scrub. And so he emerged from the bathroom still red-stained and damp as well. But not nearly as gruesome, which was probably what mattered.

Alya and Nino were sitting with Marinette's parents, all of them looking up as he appeared. But he didn't know what to say to them, too ashamed of his failure. So he cast them a sympathetic look instead, before making his way over to the far seats beside the windows.

Slumping down, he glared out at the setting sun and tried to think of anything but what was happening.

Of course that didn't work. He was only able to sit there for about an hour before his nerves finally got to him. Huffing, he stood up and began to pace, aware of how the others watched him for a minute before going back to their own thoughts. He didn't bother correcting his posture or his gritted teeth, which meant he knew he looked like some kind of loping cat walking back and forth from one side of the room to the other. It was the walk that had first drawn the attention of so many designers—that, when perfected, worked wonders on a runway. In those moments, though, it'd lost its polish. He was all edges and no silk. But he was too agitated to care, his mind racing around what had happened over and over and over again.

If there was something he could have done—if he'd been too slow or unobservant. These thoughts tortured him, strangled him, and it was only the knowledge that they were, in fact, waiting for news that kept him above water. This fact had him slipping from one side of the room to the other, sitting, crouching, pacing. It was only when they were breaching the five-hour mark—once that sun had gone down completely—that someone finally broke the silence.

"I'm going to go get us something to eat down at the cafeteria," Tom said quietly, laying a hand on his wife's leg. "Do you two want anything?" He'd turned to where Alya and Nino were sitting across from them.

Hesitant orders were given, Adrien drowning them out until it was his name that was spoken across the room.

"What about you, Adrien? Do you want anything?" It was Tom still.

Adrien shook his head, casting them a single look before returning his attention to the window.

"Alright, then you might as well help me carry it back," Tom continued, Adrien looking back at him again. "C'mon," he gestured to him as he stood. "A walk will be good for both of us."

Supposing there was no reason to say no, Adrien cast only one more look at the doors behind which Marinette resided, somewhere, before shoving his feet after Tom. He tailed the big man down the hall without a word, the two only getting somewhat close when they had to step into an elevator.

"She'll be alright, you know," Tom said once they were headed for the basement level. "She's strong. You know that."

Adrien flicked his gaze up to the other man, but still remained silent. Apparently, his look justified some kind of continued discourse.

"You can't honestly think I didn't know," Tom said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. He wasn't looking at Adrien as he spoke. "Your disguises might have some sort of cloaking thing that hides your identities from other people, but a father knows his daughter."

Adrien had long since started listening intently, uncertain what to make of what was being said.

"Besides, she wasn't always as quiet as she thought, coming in late. It really wasn't that difficult to put the pieces together." He sighed as the elevator doors slid open, the both of them staying side by side now, as they walked. "Sabine doesn't want to see the reality of it, so she refuses to, but we're well aware."

Adrien didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all. He wondered, fleetingly, if his father would have recognized him more quickly if he'd been the kind of parent Tom was. But, then again, if he was like Tom in any way, then he wouldn't be in prison.

"What I'm trying to say is," Tom came to a sudden halt, his big hand turning Adrien toward him by the shoulder, "this isn't your fault. True, it was only Marinette that I recognized before, but as soon as I saw you pacing, I knew you were more than just Marinette's model friend, Adrien.

"I know you two are close—that you're partners—and that you're suffering just as much as we are about this." Adrien couldn't help looking down at his shoes, his shoulders tensing some. "What happened couldn't be helped—there was nothing you could have done. Sometimes even Ladybug gets unlucky."

"It's my job to protect her," Adrian admitted despite himself, his mouth clamping closed as soon as the words had escaped.

"I know," Tom said, tone far more understanding than Adrian felt he deserved. "It was mine too."

They didn't say anything else on the subject after that, instead going about getting the food with as few words of direction as possible. When they returned, the silence was just as stuffy as when they'd left, but Adrien tried to be a bit more civil. He paced just behind them now, instead of all over the room, and occasionally took a seat next to Alya or Nino before beginning his marching anew.

They were in the waiting room for nearly eight hours before one the many nurses and doctors that had come through the door finally called them.

Knowing his place, Adrien hung back a bit, listening intently as the doctor discussed the situation with Marinette's parents.

"We've managed to correct as much of the damage as possible," the doctor, still blood covered from surgery, began to explain. "She suffered a lot of damage internally," she gestured to her stomach area, "as well as multiple fractures, broken bones, and a serious head injury. We're keeping her in ICU for now, as she's still extremely unstable, and ask that only family be allowed back to see her."

That was enough for Adrien. Slipping away as silently as his experience had taught him, he headed down the elevator and out the door into the night air. Calling Plagg, he quickly transformed, Tikki propped on his shoulder as he extended his baton and shot up to the top of the building. Hunting around quickly, he located a door on the far side and used his advanced strength to force it open despite the lock.

He headed straight for the stairs, jumping down as many as he could until he was back on the seventh floor. Checking to make sure no one was around as he slipped into the hall, he then balanced on his baton and shot it up a few inches, until he could access the ceiling panels.

Shifting one quietly aside, he pushed himself the rest of the way up, pulling his baton after him. Replacing the tile, he watched with his night vision as Tikki flitted back and forth in the cramped space.

"This way," she whispered, Chat creeping across the supports after her. He didn't question how she knew. Like he and Plagg, Marinette and Tikki had a bond. And with that came certain, unexplainable advantages.

It took them some minutes, but eventually a familiar set of voices caught in Chat's twitching ears. Pausing to listen, he remained stock still, Tikki landing on his shoulder. The voices were directly below them.

"They don't even know if she'll wake up, Tom," Sabine was saying, her voice clogged and shaky. "What if she doesn't wake up?"

Chat pursed his lips, closing his eyes as he tried to settle his own nerves. The last thing the family needed was him up there, breaking down and interrupting their visiting time. He was Ladybug's, Marinette's, friend, but he didn't come first. Not in this. Not ever, really.

"She'll wake up," Tom assured, and Chat could almost envision how his big arms encircled her. "She's a tough girl. Nothing, not even this, will keep her down." Chat wanted to believe those words. Desperately. He couldn't even consider his life without her—all of her. Doing so, having to face that reality, had bent his world beyond repair.

If she didn't wake up, if she didn't survive.

He didn't know what he'd do.

It was selfish, and stupid, but she was more than just a friend. More than just his partner. He wasn't meaning to imply anything romantic, because there was no truth there (whether he wanted that to change or not), but whatever was between him and Ladybug was bigger than both of them. Was something he didn't know how to describe. Because when she swung, he jumped, and when she fell, he chased. And when she smiled, he did too. Maybe it was crazy, feeling that kind of attachment to someone, and maybe it was one-sided, but, even so, without her, he was nothing.

She was his heart. She was his everything.

Gulping back on his own emotions, he listened a while longer as Sabine and Tom spoke, as they stayed in the room as long as they could before the staff came to get them. He heard mumbled apologies from the nurse, who tried to justify why they couldn't stay, and soon he heard the door to the room click closed.

Tikki was practically vibrating on his shoulder, and so he didn't postpone their visit any longer.

Slipping his nails between the seams, he shifted one of the tiles aside, glancing around the room below to make sure it was clear. Satisfied that no one was there, he dropped down and quickly surveyed the rest of the unit.

He wouldn't be able to stay long. Reaching up, he cupped Tikki with his gloved hand, hiding her. This was the intensive care unit, which meant it was on watch by the staff at all times. This was made abundantly clear by the viewing windows lining one side, which stared out into the hall. No privacy. He'd be seen—there was no getting around it.

Knowing his time was limited, he turned to the bed. So many machines, so many tubes and ties and needles. She looked so small beneath it all, her black hair loose and fanning her face. She was covered, so he couldn't see anything but her head. There were a few bandages on her face, mostly along her right ear. But even that was difficult to really examine. Because there was a mask helping her to breathe, and all of it, every piece, was like a barrier between them.

He couldn't help with this. Even as he crept up along the side of the bed, as close as he dared get, he knew there was nothing he could do. This was one battle she had to fight without him, despite how that fact ripped at his insides.

"I'll help her," Tikki squeaked out, slipping out of his grip and onto the sheets. "I'll stay with her. I'm good luck, you know." She smiled. "I'll stay."

"You'll have to stay hidden," Chat murmured. "There'll be doctors and nurses in and out of here all the time."

"I'll be careful," she said simply, before fluttering under the sheets and out of sight.

As if to fulfill his prediction, two nurses walked by the windows, coming to a dead, gaping halt when they saw him there, beside the bed. He looked at them only quickly, knowing his time was up.

Leaning down, he cupped her cheek as best he could, avoiding all the machinery. Hovering above her for just a moment, he flicked is focus to every part of her face, to every bit of her he could, before closing his eyes and committing it to memory.

He could hear more people gathering outside the viewing windows. He had to go.

Gently, he placed his lips against her forehead. He paused there a moment, giving himself that, and let his heart splinter a little further inside his chest. It was hard to breathe; hard to be with her and know she wasn't really there. Not then. Maybe not ever again.

Pulling back despite how his body ached to stay, he avoided the viewing windows as he went to the exterior ones. Glancing only once more over his shoulder at the bed, he watched, waiting for the silence to break and knowing it wouldn't.

Pulling the window open, he slipped out into the night, only pausing long enough to make sure it was closed securely behind him.