Chat Noir clutched his partner to his chest, panicking at the sight of her blue lips and alarmingly pale skin. "Come on LB, stay with me!"

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she snuggled tighter against his chest. "Warm. Want to sleep."

Chat's eyes widened in alarm. He was no doctor, but he knew it was bad when someone was freezing, but started feeling warm. "Oh, no. You can't sleep, Ladybug! I need you to stay awake! Stay with me, just a little longer!"

"Can't. Want to sleep."

Shit. Shit shit shit! What could he do? Take her back to his house? Or maybe, to Marinette's? He knew she would help, and could be trusted. He looked around frantically, trying to get his bearings, and stood with her over his shoulder, his staff extended.

"Chat Noir! Chat Noir, wait!"

He turned, and saw Alya and Nino racing up to him, their faces drawn with worry, and their teeth chattering in the cold.

"Take her—to my house," she panted, hands braced on her bent knees. "It's close."

He regarded her uncertainly. He loved Alya, but he wasn't sure he could trust the Ladyblogger to keep her journalist's nose out of things she didn't need to know.

"Dude, I know your identities are important and all, but her lips are blue. She took a direct hit, right?" Chat grimaced, and nodded.

"Come on, you have to get her warm, and that akuma isn't going to stay unconscious long. Please let us help."

Chat hesitated a moment longer, weighing the earnest expressions on his friends' faces, and shifted her in his arms so that he was cradling her, bridal style. "Alright. Yes, thank you. Where are we going?"

"Just here, come on!"

Chat Noir followed the pair around the corner, and up the stairs into an apartment building only halfway up the block. Alya hadn't been kidding; it was close.

"Almost there, my lady. Hang on."

A quiet moan was her only response.

Alya led the way up to her apartment, and threw open the door for him to precede her. "Go into the bathroom, second door on the left, and get the hot water going in the shower. It'll warm up the room while you get her undressed. Don't put her into the water!"

His heart pounding, he strode past the wide-eyed faces of Alya's family and into the bathroom without pause; someone closed the door behind him. He dropped her legs to free a hand, and turned on the hot water. It was so, so tempting to hold her under the rapidly warming stream of water, but he knew even without Alya's warning not to do that. Still holding her, he dismissed his transformation, and began rubbing at her arms.

"Plagg, can you communicate with her kwami? Get her to drop the transformation? I need to get her out of the wet things, and—"

There was a flash of pink light, and suddenly it was a pajama-clad Marinette groaning in his arms, with unnaturally pale skin and blue lips. Something tiny and red fell from her earrings, and Plagg flew to catch the little red Kwami.

Adrien felt his heart stutter. "Oh, God."

"Don't just stand there, kid!" Plagg shoved tiny paws against his cheek, the red kwami floating just behind him. "She needs you!"

Adrien shook himself, and with trembling hands, he stripped the flannel pants from her legs and tossed them with a wet plop into the sink. At her top, he hesitated, recognizing that she was definitely not wearing a bra beneath it.

Her kwami tugged weakly at his hand. "Adrien, this is no time to be worrying about modesty! Please, hurry!"

"Pretend she's just one of your father's models—this isn't anything you haven't seen before! Get on with it!"

Adrien nodded and fumbled with the buttons a bit before giving up and simply tugging the two sides apart, sending the little buttons flying. Then he peeled the shirt from her body, while trying to keep his eyes focused on anything but her nakedness. When the shirt had joined her pants in the sink, began trying to work off his own clothing without releasing her, knowing that his body heat would help to warm her up. He was shoving his sodden jeans down one handed when there was a knock at the bathroom door.

"Chat Noir? There are big fluffy towels in the linen closet next to the sink. Once you get rid of her wet clothes, wrap her up! My mom is heating up some soup, to warm you guys from the inside, too."

He nodded gratefully, though she couldn't see it. "Thank you!" He called through the door, kicking the wet denim from his feet. "I can't tell you how much—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. With all you do for Paris, it is literally the least we could do, to offer help when you need it."

He braced her against the wall and pulled off his tshirt, then dumped it into the sink with her things. Then he pulled her back to his chest so that they were clammy skin to clammy skin, and moved to the closet Alya had mentioned. He opened it to find a whole stack of the big, oversized bath sheets similar to the ones in his own bathroom. "Perfect," he breathed, tugging one from the top of the stack. He wrapped it around their shoulders, pressing her close to his body to share his warmth. Later, he would relish the memory of her bare body pressed flush against his own, but for now, he was too preoccupied with worry to be anything more than dimly aware of anything else.

She groaned, shivering again, and he looked down to see that she wore a pained expression. He grimaced at her discomfort, but also felt relieved—it meant she was warming up. He held the towel around them with one hand, and used the other to vigorously rub her back beneath it. "I'm so sorry, my lady. I know that it's uncomfortable now, but we'll get you warmed up and then you'll be all right."

She groaned again, and he pressed a kiss to her still cold brow.

"I almost lost you," he whispered. "Next time, my lady, just let me take the hit."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, and did her best to glare at him. "No," she said simply, and dropped her head back down to rest against him. "Remind me to freak out about our identities later," she mumbled through her chattering teeth, as her arms snaked around his waist.

He grinned. "There she is," he said happily, squeezing her.