Life was finally back in those blue eyes. Seeing Erek every day had been, in a sense, therapeutic. Alya didn't seem the least bit surprised at Marinette's little "miracle." She hadn't completely recovered, the doctors said she was maybe halfway there…and that was being generous.

Her attitude improving obviously had some sort of effect on her rate of recovery, and it probably helped a lot that she was eating again. Her meals weren't exactly something to write home about and there still wasn't a time when she wasn't hungry, but the food she had been forcing herself so hard to keep down soothed the stomach pains. A growling stomach was something she could deal with more easily, and something she could joke about with Erek so he didn't have to worry about her.

She wasn't gaining any weight just by eating tiny rations a few times a day, but she did get some small amount of energy back that she didn't have before.

Most patients wouldn't have a shot at getting out just yet but Marinette's improvement over the next month had let her parents bargain for their daughter's freedom. While there were many obvious reasons keeping her locked up in a hospital was a good thing, everyone there knew Marinette would only take so much more time before she decided enough was enough and fight for her freedom, potentially using her rights as the patient against the hospital. From that point it could turn into more of a legality since she both did and did not have legitimate reasons for denying the continuation of medical care.

After hours of discussion and an extra few days of consideration, the hospital struck a kind of deal with Marinette's parents, which would later extend to Adrien himself. Marinette had to be watched at all times, very closely monitored, and had to have access to immediate medical attention. She would also need to use medical equipment responsibly with supervision from a caretaker.

In this case…him.

When the deal was first proposed to Marinette, she struggled with the decision. She was still so stubbornly against living with Adrien, but eventually all information about the akuma attack had to be disclosed to her so she could make an informed choice. She knew her house had been demolished during the attack, she knew she had been in a very dire and delicate condition after, but she took spending months in a coma the hardest. She said she had already suspected that maybe she'd spent longer in the hospital than she originally thought, and that being in a coma wouldn't have totally surprised her, but months? She demanded to look at multiple phones to confirm the dates.

But after the shock of being told she had essentially died, come back to life, died over and over, came back to life again and again, and even after that didn't wake up for months longer finally wore off…the topic of where she would go after she left the hospital, regardless of when or with whom, took its place at the forefront of her mind. Nobody had taken pictures of what was left of her house but her parents, Erek, and Adrien all had the same story and she took their word for it.

There was much deliberation on the subject and she borderline begged her parents to watch her instead, but she was told bluntly that it simply couldn't be done the way the doctors said it had to be done—they couldn't watch her that closely and run a business on their own, and she would be incapable of helping them. She was equally as reluctant to turn to Alya and Nino, who had both shown up to help coax her towards accepting Adrien's offer. She did mention to them that if they took her, she promised she wouldn't be any trouble, but as soon as their kids were mentioned, Marinette fell silent in understanding.

Which left him. Being her absolute last resort wasn't the best feeling in the world, but he could provide her with everything she needed and watch her as closely as the doctors wanted him to. He was instructed on how to handle the equipment she would be discharged with, which medications she was prescribed or allowed to take, symptoms to keep an eye out for in case of an emergency, and even how to touch her. He didn't need to know how to touch a woman, he wouldn't be touching Marinette if he could help it…but they more so focused on certain pressure points around her torso that he was to be mindful of if he had to carry her somewhere.

Not that this was ever an issue anyway.

Marinette finally agreed to all this and was ecstatic to be free from her sanitary prison at long last, but she would not tolerate being treated like a child. Despite what the doctors had very explicitly told her, there was a point in time when she had looked him straight in the eye and, in a moment of frustration with all his doting, ordered him to punch her.

He knew it was meant to challenge him in a way that would give her some space, and there was no doubt she knew he would never do such a thing, but it still came as a surprise. Truthfully, he didn't need to watch her as much as everybody thought he did. Did he watch her? Aaaaaabsolutely. Was it completely necessary? Not really… It just seemed to drive her up the wall in ways even Erek had never been able to accomplish. Marinette was already highly self-sufficient and rarely needed help.

In fact, over the approximate month she'd been staying with him, the only time she needed help was the first week. Walking and standing were difficult for her. All that time spent trapped in a bed with little to no exercise caused her muscles to atrophy, especially in her legs, so she would often cling to him if she needed to stand up from the couch or walk across a space without anything else to hold onto. She still couldn't run but she made it a goal to walk around as much as possible each day to build her strength back up. She had crutches and a wheelchair she could use but she ignored them because…she was Marinette. And for no other reason. It was frustrating at times.

Finally, although she fought him all month, every step of the way, and it took him an enormous amount of effort to win those battles, he eventually got her to do most of what he wanted. He never pushed her to do anything that wasn't in her best interest, but a prime example was the bed. He wanted her to have it while she insisted on taking the couch, and for a while neither of them would back down. It took him physically carrying her to the bed, knowing she couldn't fight back, for her to relent. Her having the bed wasn't just out of courtesy. She was steadily doing better with oxygen and seemed to need the mask less and less, little by little, each day. But at night she was required to wear it whether she felt like she needed it or not, and he didn't want her potentially falling off the couch or turning in some uncomfortable way that would knock it off in her sleep.

But, after a lot of hardship, he could finally relax and see Marinette doing whatever. Sometimes she cooked—a fight he lost—and sometimes she took it easy. She still slept a lot, most of the time just naps on the couch, but would usually try to busy herself when she was awake. He would allow her to cook if she wanted to, but he had to serve her food to ensure she was getting the right amount for each meal. She could go on walks if she felt like it, but he had to be there with her. The walks were usually very short and stayed close to his apartment complex. It never took very long for her to start running out of breath. They would go back and she would put on the oxygen mask. Her breathing would return to normal within minutes.

She had also started working again—another fight he lost. She took over a desk and about half the bedroom. He couldn't actually prove anything because Marinette wouldn't talk much about it, but she got really busy after an anonymous phone call. To him, this suggested his father had said something to her about deadlines he already knew she would be stressed out by. After all that time in the hospital, she had undoubtedly missed a lot of them.

He wanted to talk to his father about this but Marinette wouldn't take too kindly to him getting so involved in her job, something that wasn't his business to begin with. He decided to support her instead, buying her any fabric she needed, a new sewing machine, a filing cabinet, a much wider assortment of colored pencils than Erek had, several large sketch pads, binders and folders, a pencil sharpener, a thimble that she never used, and a sewing needle. And that was just for the desk. In the bedroom he had three different mannequins up against the wall. He felt colorblind, unable to differentiate between the barest shades of reds that all looked exactly the same to him, but he managed with her help.

He still wished she would continue to rest rather than trying to jump straight back into her old life, but doing all this for her made him feel proud and useful. Proud of her, but useful because he was finally doing something good for her instead of helping all her medical issues exacerbate and pile on top of one another. None of this even began to compensate for what he made her go through in the past, but aside from putting a roof over her head, it was one of few things she genuinely appreciated. She didn't try to fight him. She thanked him, she smiled at him, she hugged him, she was clearly relieved.

And now she was stressed out and snappy because she had such a short time to prepare an entire line of clothes—he only knew about it this time because he was supposed to model all of them if they were approved by Agreste.

To his delight, she decided against quitting…just, not for the reasons he'd wanted. After a long hospital stay and so many missed deadlines, she worried that any other brand would see her as unreliable and figured it wasn't a good time to switch jobs right now. At least Agreste knew her history. She felt she had better job security with them.

He could do nothing else besides watch her mumble incoherently under her breath in a language he couldn't understand. Colors, fabrics, yardage, all the things he didn't have to think twice about as a mere object to show off all the hard work someone else had done.

It was only during a conversation with Erek, in which the boy mentioned his mother's special clothing book again, did he think that perhaps he could ease her stress a bit. She had felt terrible when he "blew off" her designs last time she attempted to show them to him, and from the way she was constantly throwing away crumpled wads of paper, he gauged how nervous she had to be about new designs. Ones that, if he himself approved of, his father would approve of as well.

He left Erek to copy his mom and color in shirts on cartoonish animals in his coloring book—nothing at all like Marinette's original designs but points for effort—to peer over Marinette's shoulder as she began sketching what appeared to be some kind of hat. The sketch was so early that he couldn't tell what kind of hat yet, but she obviously had an idea in mind.

"Could I take a look?" he asked, trying to sound sincere.

She jumped in her seat, startled as she was yanked from her laser focused state.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just noticed you were drawing and…"

"Yeah, no, of course," she said. "But…um, maybe you should wait. Most of them aren't finished and even the ones that are, just, aren't…really…good."

She refused to continue her hat sketch with him looking over her.

"May I be the judge of that? I've heard artists are too critical of themselves and besides, I am the one modeling these clothes."

She bit her lip and hesitantly passed him her sketchpad. It was only half full, which was surprising given how much time she'd spent at this desk. She was also right in that most of these were unfinished, most likely ready to be scrapped if she decided they weren't good enough for Agreste's image.

This time, instead of skimming it over and saying it was good just to boost her spirits, he put the pad down in front of her on the desk and started pointing out certain clothing articles he liked best and why, and then started mentioning how this and that would look great. He was, of course, being serious about it all, but he knew she wouldn't believe him if he didn't have a problem with any of her designs at all, so he faked those. One of her hats had a feather in it, kind of like the derby hat she made when they were in high school. Instead of putting the hat down like his father might've if he was the one criticizing her designs, Adrien simply requested that the feather be fake or perhaps gone altogether.

As he continued to speak up about her designs, obviously paying attention to each one and not "blowing them off" like last time, she tapped her pencil against the desk in thought. She was listening to him but as she was, she was also considering what to improve or maybe finalize. He assumed she would use his constructive criticism to decide which ones would make the cut and which ones would be archived.

"I especially like this one right here…" he kept going, pointing towards a jacket that hadn't been finished yet. "It looks manlier than what Chantal makes me wear."

Chantal was a different designer for Agreste but did not have the same affinity for style as Marinette—or anyone else, for that matter—did. He really didn't understand why his father kept her on, her designs were nothing to brag about.

"You sure? That's supposed to be denim, not leather."

"Did I stutter?" he chuckled.

She finally gave him a little smile. It wasn't much but that was a personal victory.

"Well…I guess I could keep that one. A-As long as your father agrees with it too…"

He smiled back at her, this time to reassure her.

"Look, my father and I disagree on a lot—and I mean a lot—of things, but fashion isn't one of them. Most of these are practically flawless and they're a hundred percent Marinette. My father hired you because he likes the Marinette style. Don't change that."

"I don't… I…" Suddenly the smile dropped and was replaced with a look of uncertainty. "The ones you said you liked were some of the original sketches I tried to show you before…and… I don't think you liked them… I don't want you to say you like them now because I'm sick, I just want to be good at my job again…"

He inhaled, knowing deep down she would come back to the one time he couldn't have possibly cared less about her work.

"Listen, Marinette, you have the wrong idea. I really didn't even look at them, I swear, and I know that sounds bad, but the truth is, I came to your house that time with a different goal."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I remember…"

"I know it was selfish of me to expect you to uproot your life just because of something I wanted, and I didn't know about Erek then and I didn't think it through well enough. Your designs and your job weren't on my mind at the time and I just didn't want to derail the conversation. That's all there was to it, I promise. You've always been a top tier designer and if I had taken the time to look over your work, I'm sure I would've loved all of it. But if I had…well, I think I probably would've forgotten some of what I wanted to talk about. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings and I'm so sorry I made you think your designs weren't good enough anymore."

She was shockingly quick to accept his response for face value.

"Yeah, you…you did sort of rush everything to make your point," she murmured. "And if you ever do have an issue with my designs, tell me. But…"

She twiddled her thumbs and looked away.

"Th-Thanks for…you know…going over them with me now…"

"No problem. Make sure you show them to me again when they're finished, or even if you're unsure about something. I'll be happy to help."

It was the very least he could do, visions of her coughing up blood on him intruding on his thoughts again.

He did have a fleeting thought of Marinette replaced by Ladybug. Not Marinette lying dead on the ground, but Ladybug. The same image. The same situation. Ladybug…had disappeared for years…and so had Marinette, albeit she had done so over time instead of instantaneously. Ladybug risked Paris to save Erek…threw both of them off the top of a building to stop him from hurting the snake…which she seemed to have a personal connection to, and looking back, called the snake "him" while he called the snake "it." Ladybug had an increasingly difficult time moving, then breathing, and by the end she was also coughing up blood. Ladybug had gone away and he couldn't see where, but not long after, Marinette was found in the park, curled up and exhausted, and closer to where Ladybug had left. Marinette could hardly move, using willpower alone to keep going, as if perhaps she had already been moving around before collapsing into a tree.

And the doctors said…that the blood in Marinette had been building for a month…but that…when she died…the large tear… Blood rushed in… And movement…with the storm… She had been out in that storm…and…hadn't…

Taken…

Shelter…

"Adrien?" Marinette said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"You're, uh…staring at me," she answered uncomfortably.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I was just lost in thought," he replied.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked as she reached beside her to strap on her oxygen mask.

He tried to picture her in Ladybug's costume but for some reason his mind wouldn't allow it. Was it the oxygen mask? Or did he realize that coincidences happened all the time and he could very well be overthinking it?

He was probably overthinking it… Of course Marinette had been in the storm. She wouldn't have just left Erek alone, even if it meant risking her health. And Ladybug could've been mad at the snake because Marinette was mutually known to Chat and Ladybug.

"Um…there was this video on the Ladyblog. Very controversial but it was posted months back," he said truthfully.

"Is it the one where people kept arguing about the red person who knocked Chat Noir off a roof?"

She saw that?

"Yeah. Sometimes it still comes up and I wonder."

"What's your take on it?"

"I'm not sure," he lied. "I looked through the comments to see if I could get an idea but it's still just a video and it's so unclear that there's no actual proof it was Ladybug. What about you?"

"My ex kidnapped my son," she said, the slightest bit of anger in her voice. "I don't know who it was but I'm glad they stopped Chat Noir from hurting him."

He wanted to say something against it but didn't. She had every right to be mad at that snake, go figure she already knew the snake was Pascal, and naturally she would value her own son the most.

"And for the record," she added, "I did see that video of myself…on the ground that day…"

The bloody one of Chat screaming for help while Erek was confused, terrified, and also screaming.

"Did I really stop breathing?" she asked quietly.

Adrien looked down and answered, "Yeah."

"What happened after that video ended?"

"Alya said she held onto Erek and Chat took you to a hospital. The doctors said you had too much blood in your lungs. Your heart kept failing, they couldn't identify where the blood kept coming from, and you never really woke up from all that until months later. We were told not to tell you any of that because your body might not have been able to handle any shock or stress."

"And Erek?"

"He stayed with Alya while I got my apartment ready, then I took him. He saw Chat revive you…the whole thing…but I never let him visit the hospital. I didn't want him to see you that way and I didn't think you would've wanted that either. I only brought him when I did because you…eh…weren't…doing well… Mentally, I mean. He wanted to see you though. He would ask me every day."

"What did you tell him?"

"I just told him you were sick and needed lots of sleep."

"What would you have told him if I never did wake up? Or if I died?"

Adrien wasn't completely taken aback by this question but he also hadn't prepared himself for it.

"I don't like to think about that, Marinette…"

She nodded her head in understanding and pulled her sketchpad closer to her. He took the cue to leave and let her focus. He didn't know she kept up with the Ladyblog anymore and he didn't know when she'd seen those videos, but he wished she hadn't. There was no way she felt nothing upon seeing herself die on video, with a six-year-old witnessing it all and Chat Noir on the verge of losing his ever loving mind. He imagined she saw that video when she was alone, perhaps at night when he thought she was already asleep.

He didn't know how many others she'd seen, or if she planned to watch more of them later—probably not since so much of her time was consumed by work. He hoped she would never have to see such an awful sight again.

A/N

Marinette's out at long last~ This wasn't a super long chapter but I think almost 4,000 words is still okay.

I've been wondering lately if I should make a parallel fic in Marinette's POV. But, to do so, I would need to rehash the same territory already covered by this one... If anyone has thoughts on this, I'd love to hear them.