Chat kept up with Marinette's ambulance as best he could. From rooftops to beams and even a flagpole for a little extra bounce, he wanted to keep that specific vehicle in his sights at the very least. In a way, he owed this to Marinette—he owed her his vigilance to make sure no more harm could possibly come to her. He owed her a watchdog on the way to a hospital. He owed her that and so much more. Knowing Marinette, she would think of herself as an overcomer, but he knew she was just another casualty, another undeserving victim, of his failures today.

And those sirens had never been so ear-shattering. Those lights had never burned his eyes so much. The sight of an ambulance running away from him had never struck a cord of fear more powerfully than it did now. A fear he honestly didn't know he had until now.

Part of him wished he hadn't closed his eyes. She was in terrible shape. It was a strong possibility that he would never see his closest friend alive again, that the next time he would see her would be as Adrien mixed with a crowd of mourning people all dressed in black attire fit only for one occasion. The tears and sorrow would get to him and he would be the one to stay by her tombstone through the night knowing she never died of an akuma attack as everyone else declared.

If he had been at her side sooner, maybe he could've protected her. Maybe he could've at least seen what happened. What was he supposed to tell her family? What would the doctors tell her family?

He tried to keep his questions at bay. He had enough to worry about as it was, and wondering about the Dupain-Cheng family's future wasn't really a priority right now. Or at least, it shouldn't be.

The ambulance docked in the emergency bay and he took the opportunity to shake himself off, water droplets still flinging off his body. Only his hair was actually starting to dry. Even if his suit wasn't so tight-fitting, his clothes still would've clung to him. Now that the sun was out and the temperature was ever so gradually starting to warm again, maybe he would dry off sooner than later. The staff probably wouldn't let him or Adrien into the hospital so soaked unless he was a patient himself. A mere scratch on his throat from Ladybug's switchblade probably wasn't enough to qualify for a hospital visit. Especially not from Chat Noir who had suffered much worse injuries and still shrugged them off. Adrien would have that scratch but even his inner model wouldn't land his dainty little frame here.

He could be a visitor, perhaps, if he could dry off enough to be damp—still sort of dry, hopefully the staff would consider it passable. Besides, it would be in Marinette's best interest to let medical professionals care for her without his interruptions of curiosity. At that thought, he resolutely stayed hidden in the shadows cast on the walls on the other side of the hospital, unfortunately away from the emergency wing.

As more ambulances would dock in the same bay and move people into the wing to triage, he slowly—agonizingly slowly—dried off with increasingly warmer outside temperatures. He no longer dripped and the water in his suit was evaporating at last. It was a very long wait and during that time he wondered if it was a good idea to go in even after he'd dried off. He didn't know her condition. He didn't know how long it would take to fix her back up. The worst thing he could do right now was barge in while doctors were still working on her. And if it was head trauma…what if she broke something…? What if her brain had been knocked around? What if her spine had been damaged? What if she lived but came out mentally askew or paralyzed for life? What if she woke up with amnesia? What if…she never woke up at all…?

And he would be directly responsible for any of those outcomes.

And what of Marcel? Had Alya been overreacting as a mother might do? Marcel hadn't been moving the last time Chat saw him. Chat had busied himself following Marinette and worrying about her that he really hadn't given much thought about anyone else, even though several people in this hospital were victims like Marinette. Yet he wasn't nearly as concerned about them. Here he called himself a hero… Picking favorites based solely on personal connections… Not giving two cents about his other victims… Paris called him perfect but how much more flawed could anyone possibly get? Acting like his deeds were selfless and hurting so many people but only caring about one. He was no hero. He was just a man with a special ring.

Finally, once he was completely dry, which had taken quite a while in the cooler shade, he decided on his own that the doctors had had enough time to at least stabilize Marinette. He stepped out of the shadows and walked calmly into the emergency wing. If they needed more time he would simply turn heel and leave for a few more hours, then try again as Adrien.

He was careful to avoid interrupting sad families by being as quiet as he could, and made his way to the nearest doctor he saw, intentionally ignoring the front desk.

"Excuse me," he said, clearing his throat.

The doctor who had been staring at a clipboard he held looked up. "Yes?"

"I need to find a patient named Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It's very important."

"I'm aware you need to keep your identity a secret but right now the law requires that I allow only family in the room."

Time to exercise the privileges of Chat Noir—who was constantly allowed to disobey the law under certain circumstances.

"I believe she may be in danger. In fact, I believe if she does become akumatized, all of your patients and staff may be put in peril as well. This is extremely important."

At first the doctor looked uneasy, more about the prospect of disregarding strongly enforced laws rather than an akuma attack, but quickly shook the law idea out of his head with the prospect of his hospital overflowing with more patients then anyone could treat or even save.

"Come with me," the doctor—Dr. Martin from his name tag—said.

Chat followed him through about three hallways before reaching an elevator to the second floor. It was a very spacey elevator, plenty of room to move entire beds in and out if needed. Just thinking about Marinette having been in here was unnerving. The doctor seemed to sense his dark anticipation.

"She's stable for now," Dr. Martin explained. "She's drifting in and out of consciousness. Her mind a bit foggy so don't take it personally if she ignores you at first. She may also be a little confused depending on which questions you ask her."

"Will she remember who I am?" Chat asked as the elevator came to a stop.

The doors opened and the two stepped out into another hallway complex.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no, always seems to depend on what day it is…"

For a moment he didn't really catch it, and his response was delayed just in time to reach Marinette's room.

He was hoping she would be awake. He was hoping to see a smile even if it was small and fake. Instead she was hooked up to two beeping machines with monitors and an IV with two bags. She was asleep. No smile. No questions.

Except for Dr. Martin.

"Are you saying she's been here before?"

"Every month or two," he answered. "We've gotten to know her very well, she's a sweet girl."

Another delayed response as he processed the new information that Marinette had ended up in this hospital long enough to develop a more personal relationship with the doctors here.

"How long has this been going on?" Chat asked.

"Five or six years, I believe."

For the third time in under a minute, his response was delayed as his brain was cranking gears twice as fast to actually process this new and horrible information. From a doctor. From someone who could, perhaps, be categorized as a friend or friendly acquaintance by now. From someone who had worked with Marinette for half a decade.

This brought up so many new questions at one time. It would've been easier to write a list and just have someone answer them from there.

"Who…who else knows about this…?" he absently asked.

"She doesn't talk about it much. Her family knows for sure, they visit her each time."

Then only her family knew. Adrien didn't. Alya and Nino didn't otherwise they'd have told him by this point—Alya rarely kept her mouth shut when something happened within her mutual friend circle.

"What is she usually in here for?"

"One moment."

Dr. Martin went over to Marinette while Chat stayed put at the entrance of the room. A thermometer that had been resting on a small metal table at the far end of the room was uncapped and stuck under her tongue. He didn't fail to notice the sharp color contrast between lips tinted very pale pink on the outside but rimmed with dark red on the inside. At least they'd managed to stop wherever the blood from her mouth was coming from and had wiped it off her cheek and neck.

The doctor took it out after a set amount of time and gave the reading a quick glance before setting it back on its table. He went over to an air vent against the far wall and fiddled around with a button and knob. He muttered something about warming her up and something else irritably questioning who turned the vent off.

It wasn't until this point that Chat realized how warm this room was as opposed to the rest of the hospital. It wasn't quite hot but if he stayed in here long enough he'd probably start sweating.

"Chat Noir, could you shut the door, please?"

"Yeah…sure."

Chat took a step farther into the room and quietly closed the door behind him, trapping the heat. Marinette was still ghastly pale but some pigment was returning to her lips and skin, an encouraging sign of progress after being in a storm that should've turned even Chat Noir to ice.

"She'll be here a few days, week at most, then she'll force us to send her back home," Dr. Martin sighed.

"What is she usually here for?" Chat repeated.

The doctor took a deep breath.

"It's almost always bruising or internal bleeding, sometimes both. It's just one big continuous cycle, I'm surprised she lived this long. But she is sick, and her days are numbered."

It was the last thing he needed to hear. He hadn't just hurt Marinette, he probably sped up her death.

He choked down a lump trying to form in his throat.

"What's causing all this?"

"We can't actually prove anything, but we think it could be domestic abuse."

This day, this situation, kept getting worse each time he thought it couldn't possibly get any worse. But domestic abuse would explain a lot of things about Marinette and her behavior over the years. How long had he had such a strong tendency to assume everyone was okay? In his fluffy world it was like she had her own reasons that weren't too concerning. Her dismissive response each time should've eventually given him clear signs that something was wrong, that she needed help, but somehow he never picked up on that.

"Didn't she ever say anything?"

"We stopped trying to get her to a long time ago."

"You said there were bruises though. Isn't that enough?"

"If they were shaped like handprints or any other unique shape then yes, it would be enough to at least bring this to the attention of authorities, but most are round and vary in size. Without her word, there's not much we can do," the doctor explained.

"What did she say when anyone asked her about it?"

The man shrugged. "She would smile and tell us she was fine, there was nothing to worry about."

So probably what she would've told Chat or anyone else who asked.

A/N

Awww, thank you guys for all your reviews and support, it means the world to me! *u* I'm so glad to know you like it and that I'm doing a good (or decent at least) job!

Who has Marinette moved on to? Why does she stay with him? Will this new information destroy Chat's trust in her?