The plan was to wait a week…maybe longer, if he couldn't work up the nerve to face his most important victim. It did end up lasting longer… He—Chat—probably should've visited earlier. But it had been two months. Part of this was due to akumas, yes, and while Adrien still had photoshoots, both Chat and Adrien had spare time in between. Instead of visiting Marinette as Chat, he would constantly make excuses or talk himself out of it.

One excuse—and only one—was actually valid. He did go to see Marcel and check up on Alya, Nino, and their two girls. As with Marinette, Marcel hadn't been in such great shape upon his arrival at a hospital closer to the scene than Marinette's. The little boy had no bleeding, internal or external, and no physical wounds, nor did he show signs of neurological damage. He did, however, respond poorly to treatment for hypothermia. While Marinette had steadily recovered, Marcel came down with an infection that put him inches away from being diagnosed with pneumonia. He was still sick but thankfully he would be okay with proper home care.

But the news riddled Adrien with guilt. As if the idea of failing Marinette hadn't been bad enough, he learned he could've killed his best friends' only son—a boy four years old, a boy who had barely begun to live. And Chat could've taken that away so easily.

Worse was that Marcel's condition had been relayed to Adrien over a phone call. It made it all the harder for him to face Alya and Nino in person. The parents' relieved attitudes were reassuring to some degree, but it didn't change the fact that none of this would've happened if he'd only defeated that snake sooner. Paired with all that went on with Marinette, it had been so crushing.

Maybe that was one reason he was so reluctant to visit Marinette as Chat—he had no clue how many other people he'd hurt or, worst case, killed by standing around knowing and seeing the danger.

But while Chat had stayed out of the picture, Adrien had been making progress towards Marinette. Hopefully. She still didn't respond to the majority of his texts and had only ever answered her phone twice—both conversations lasted a meager few minutes and were nothing more than casual small talk—but he had visited her three times, spacing them out until the speculation of him having a "secret liaison" somehow hit the newspapers. The last thing he needed now was to put pressure on Marinette. He was used to this kind of thing. She wasn't. So his visitations came to a stop and he, in the privacy of his own apartment, sent her an email explaining why. She didn't reply.

He had asked about her decision to either stay home or move in with him, but she was "still thinking about it." The chances of her actually considering moving in with him were slim to none and by now, he almost wished she would just say no and be done with it. But if she said no, there would be no more reason to ask, and he just wasn't ready to give up on the teeny tiny possibility. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe part of it was paranoia… He couldn't watch her every second of every day and he didn't have anyone else to do it for him. Every time Marinette waited or refused to reply, he was faced with the very real chance that she'd died. Staying away from her knowing she could die any time was a struggle in itself.

Yet, standing alone at her doorstep as Chat was proving to be even more of a struggle. While dusk was beginning to provide him with the cloak of night, thereby letting his presence here be more private than Adrien's, he debated even now whether or not it was the right time to see her as Chat again. He also wanted his arrival to be warmly received by her. But pulling that off was hard. He could've gotten food for her before coming but that might come across as too much. Flowers could come across as romantic and that was the last idea he wanted her to get. So he'd just come empty handed…wondering if he was overlooking a gift he should've gotten to greet her with. Maybe a scented candle, unless she had respiratory issues that she simply hadn't shown yet.

He reached out a finger to ring her doorbell. It immediately grew shaky when he imagined her inside, coughing up blood. It wasn't so much that he was squeamish, it was just…he didn't want to see her that way. It was a total disconnect from what he so desperately wanted her to do, including her health problems and their side effects, blood possibly included, in his daily life. He'd kept telling himself he could deal with it for her sake but he never made any promises because he knew he could be lying.

He took a deep breath to stop those thoughts—she hadn't even said yes and there was no way he could legally make her. In addition, he might receive a very warm welcome as an old friend.

His sharp ears heard footsteps lightly thudding towards him. In his mind he pictured her severely underweight despite having already seen her multiple times. If she had lost a noticeable amount of weight, it was hard to tell. She always dressed in warm clothes so she was covered, but the clothes were never sagging off her body and her cheeks weren't sunken. Her fingers weren't skeletal and her skin wasn't thin. She wasn't gray and as sickly as he kept imagining her to be. She wasn't completely healthy but she didn't look as bad as he continued to expect.

Marinette casually opened the door and she was clearly tired, like she'd had a long day of manual labor at a fast-paced and stressful job that kept her on her feet.

The moment of truth. He readily braced himself for a negative reaction but did his best to seem as friendly and cheerful as he could without overdoing it.

"Hey there, princess, it's been a while," he said.

Her expression was neutral and he took that as a bad thing, but a smile spread and she quickly jumped forward to pull him into an embrace.

"Chat!" she cried happily. "It's so good to see you again! Come in!"

She didn't give him a chance to actually walk through the door on his own and yanked him inside. Her slow reaction was a slight concern but she was sick and was probably supposed to be in bed by now. He may have woken her up, maybe she was just groggy.

"How's the fashion field working out for you?"

Her initial giddiness quickly switched over to nervousness and she twiddled with her her thumbs.

"It was going pretty good," she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Was?" he quoted.

She took a nervous inhale and nodded.

"What happened?"

"I'm not really sure, actually. I mean I fell behind on some deadlines and then right after that my boss stopped giving me as much work. I think, maybe, he might be pushing me out? I'm starting to wonder if I should just try to find other work. There's another label that's interested in me so I already have somewhere else to go," she explained.

"I…I don't think that's such a great idea," he carefully replied, reminding himself that Chat wasn't involved at all in her professional life and the Agreste brand meant nothing beyond her source of income. "I mean, haven't you been with Agreste for years? There's no way you would be fired over some homework, princess."

Apparently the talk he had with his father was backfiring. He had to do a lot of convincing to lighten Marinette's workload, especially since his relationship with Gabriel wasn't the best to begin with. But he wasn't aware her workload would be cut back so much, let alone that she would perceive it as an attempt to quietly shoo her away from the company.

But what now? Go back on what he'd borderline begged his father to do because something went wrong with the rare favor Gabriel had graced him with? The one he'd spent a solid two hours negotiating?

And worse, it wasn't like Chat knew about that little father-son discussion so Marinette wouldn't find out right now. Adrien couldn't even be seen at her place anymore and he highly doubted she paid much attention to any efforts to communicate with her.

"I don't know," she said. "I haven't decided on anything yet. Every artist has their own style and maybe I've been with Agreste so long they got bored with it."

"I really doubt anyone's bored with your style."

Marinette rolled her eyes.

"Gabriel Agreste's son is the usual model even for me, and when I showed him my plans for next season he took one look and blew them all off."

Part of him wanted to be agreeable and call himself rude but she'd taken that the wrong way. He had merely come in with a different purpose and wanted to stay on that track. But lesson learned: next time she shoved something in his hands he'd completely look it over and praise it because he already knew how good it would be.

"Maybe you're just reading too much into it. I've talked to Adrien a few times before and he doesn't seem like the kind of person who would do that."

"Maybe…" she mumbled. "He did seem to have other things on his mind…"

"Like what?"

"Well, he suddenly came by a while ago just totally out of the blue. He looked so upset when I asked him what he wanted. We talked for a while and, don't get me wrong, I was really happy to see him after all this time, but he asked me to move in with him. He hasn't left me alone since and, I mean, I talk to him sometimes to be polite but…I really don't… I don't even think he cares about me like he says, why would I even consider moving in with him? Why didn't he drop by to say hello or something?"

As before, her words stung. Maybe she was right though, she clearly wanted him to reestablish a friendship and he did sort of rush forward with an idea that would pull her away from everything except her job.

"Did he know you were sick?" Chat asked, determined to convince her anyway.

Friendship could be reestablished either way…but he still thought this was the best way to help her in her trying time. Her limited time.

She chuckled as she guided him towards her couch and sat down.

"Figures you would find out," she said.

He sat down beside her and noticed how much more open she was being with him—with Chat Noir. It had to mean she saw Chat as more of a friend than Adrien despite the exact same time gap. He wan't sure why though. Adrien hardly had any excuses, what reasons could Chat Noir have?

"I was at the hospital," he needlessly reminded her, knowing that even if she didn't remember, the doctor there had promised to tell her he came by.

"Yeah, they told me that. I probably didn't look great, huh?" she laughed.

He still couldn't figure out why she was treating Chat so differently than Adrien. Even a quick mental analysis of his behavior didn't reveal any differences. He called her princess earlier…maybe that was it?

Or maybe she assumed Chat had more valid reasons to never contact her in a very long time.

"The doctors aren't optimistic about your diagnosis, they—"

"I know I'm dying, Chat," she interrupted. "I came to terms with that a long time ago."

"Do you know how much time you have left?"

Apparently Chat was allowed to ask such questions without upsetting her.

"Nope," she answered. "But I'm glad I got to see you before I'm gone. I have a question I need to ask you."

"Anything at all."

"You save people all the time. You've probably gotten to know several akuma victims. I'm getting worse and so I was wondering, do you know anyone who might be interested in adopting a kid?"

…A what…

A/N

Ohhh! She is very excited to see him! That's good!

Also...ouch. Poor Chaton. Was not expecting to be hit with that today. What will happen next? Where has this kid been all this time? Is it hers? Am I teasing you? Am I planning a twist?

Sorry it's been so long! I lost a lot of interest in the show because the episodes were delayed THAT LONG, then I just lost interest in this fic. I was almost done with the chapter anyway and I have an idea of where to go next. Hope you enjoyed it!