It had been a couple of weeks since that dream. He found himself doing two things: researching how to be a better kisser and using a massive amount of willpower to force himself to believe Marinette had no connection to Ladybug.

The dream rattled him but he hadn't had another one like it. He did his best not to think about it, although sometimes it did slip into his thoughts. It was more so the kiss he forced on Marinette, something he felt awful about and had apologized to her for several times. She had more recently begun expressing irritation when he did that so he'd decided to stop, but sometimes he would still send mental apologies. She couldn't get upset over those. He did continuously wonder if her annoyance meant she'd forgiven him and wanted the topic to die. He could also understand if it embarrassed her to think about. But it also kept bringing him back to being a bad kisser. Marinette still hadn't figured it out but she had told Chat Noir that he was a bad kisser to his face. And it wasn't like he could ask her about it. He certainly wanted to though…

She had started allowing herself to be closer to him again and, from what he was seeing at least, she was growing more comfortable. He took every opportunity to be the trustworthy, honest man she saw before. He wasn't over the top with anything, still wondering if he was standing on thin ice, but he was involved in the mundane. He would periodically go over her work, maybe once or twice a week, and was attentive to her needs. He offered to cook for her on several occasions but had to face the harsh reality that his cooking was edible at best. Nothing like her premium homemade meals. It was a luxury to come home from the modeling agency and be greeted with the aroma of her cooking. It was pure comfort food when he had been butting heads with his father and boss all day.

Today had been one such day. His father was trying to groom him to take over the Agreste label. It was the one thing Gabriel seemed to be proud of but hadn't once asked him if he'd been interested in inheriting a company. It was like everything was just expected of him, but then again, that had been the same structure he had since childhood. Sometimes Gabriel cared deeply, something he didn't realize as a kid, but other times Gabriel was completely negligent, also something he didn't realize as a kid. Only when he was old enough to look back on specific moments in time and truly understand what was happening did he get it. Gabriel just didn't really know how to be a father.

The man was an expert in fashion though and had brought up Adrien to have that same discernment. The only reason he hadn't already rejected his father's expectations was because he himself wasn't sure what he wanted. On one hand, he could finally kick modeling to the curb while still having a well-paying and very secure job. On the other hand, he wouldn't have as much time on his hands for other activities. Chat Noir was needed and modeling was flexible, for the most part. More because he was the son of Gabriel Agreste though. He could do practically whatever he wanted but knew he still had a responsibility to the company he worked for. He'd taken a lot of time off to look after Marinette and Erek so getting back to work became one of his priorities.

At night, Chat patrolled the city. He'd maxed out his stealth stat and was convinced by now that he could put a ninja to shame. Marinette wasn't monitoring every little thing he did but he was so much more paranoid after that dream that no precaution he took seemed too far.

But he'd discussed that dream with Plagg shortly after having it, wholly expecting his own kwami to reassure him and maybe even make fun of him for subconsciously trying to connect Marinette and Ladybug. Plagg looked very uncomfortable during the entire conversation. Plagg and Tikki had switched with each other before so Plagg knew Ladybug's identity. All the more reason he had to force himself to believe Ladybug and Marinette were nothing to each other, let alone the same person.

Being at odds with his father all day was mentally taxing as it was, but it was only after dinner that he noticed Ladybug's ring—well, the ring he was going to propose to her with so many years ago—sitting on top of his desk. Marinette primarily worked from home and needed a lot of storage but he couldn't think of a single reason she would go about digging in his drawer. Not that he cared since the only thing he made an effort to hide was Chat Noir, but it was strange to find it lying around. Maybe she'd lost something.

The realization of what Marinette might've thought about this ring hit him the moment he went over to pick it up. After that drama with the kiss this little metal circle could have an entirely new light to her. He wasn't seeing anyone and had no plans to in the foreseeable future, however, Marinette didn't know that. He hadn't discussed his relationship status with her, hadn't mentioned any other women he might've been seeing. She had probably suspected he was single all this time but he had never confirmed it for her. In his defense, she hadn't asked and there hadn't been any reason to bring the topic up.

"Sorry," Marinette said, peeking her head from his room with a guilty expression. "I was looking for my scissors and thought I misplaced them. Found that in the drawer…"

And she'd left it out why…?

"Oh, it's no big deal," he replied truthfully, now idly thumbing the ring.

"It's very pretty, I'm sure the lucky lady will love it," she said, this time less guiltily and more awkwardly.

Did Marinette think him being in a relationship was awkward? He was an adult. Unmarried. They weren't dating, he was just looking after Erek and her. It really wouldn't have been a weird situation… Or perhaps it was less of a relationship and more of him never mentioning one.

"She, uh, hasn't seen it."

He put the ring back in the drawer and closed it.

"Oh?" Marinette positioned herself outside the room entirely, as if overcoming a shyness. "You should talk to her."

He briefly chuckled but quieted down that same second.

"I did," he said absently.

Marinette suddenly expressed regret and she tried to backpedal, but her words jumbled and were incomprehensible. In the end she could only apologize.

"It's been over for a long time, actually," he assured her. "She made it pretty clear it wouldn't work out. Looking back, she was probably right."

He wouldn't have handled Ladybug being so sick very well, particularly now that Marinette was too. He just really wished she'd kept him in the loop… Maybe one day he would have the chance to ask her what he did that made her think it was a bad idea to tell him what was going on. Maybe he could somehow make amends before the inevitable happened…

"I asked my parents for a favor while you were gone," Marinette said, interrupting his thoughts before they became too depressing.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, they stopped by to drop something off. Hope that's okay, I know I didn't have permission."

This time the chuckle he let out was genuine.

"This is your home for as long as you stay here. You don't need my permission to have guests over."

Not that she actually had a choice in where she stayed or how long, but she had definitely made herself comfortable in his apartment and seemed quite settled. He just wanted to make sure she felt like she had some claim to this place too, thus permission was unnecessary. Besides, she was never the type of person to drag complete strangers or shady characters into her residence so he didn't feel the need to be concerned. The only character he would feel uncomfortable with would be Pascal but Marinette was adamantly against seeing or talking to him any more than she had to.

"Still." She shrugged. "But anyway, look what they dropped off."

She went to the kitchen and opened a cabinet. Curiosity prompted him to follow and he craned his neck to look over her shoulder as she opened a brown paper bag. What she pulled out nearly floored him.

"Are those…" he gasped.

"They are."

"Oh, no, Marinette!" he cried, momentarily confusing her. "Do you have any idea how dangerous these things are for me?!"

He snapped up a passionfruit macaroon and bit into that delightful piece of happiness and purity.

He moaned in bliss.

"Don't do that to me again, Adrien, I thought you developed allergies or something!"

He moaned again. "I haven't had one of these in years."

"What, why? The bakery still sells them."

"Because I can't feed my addiction."

His response somehow brought her to laughter but he was being dead serious. He had major self-control issues when it came to passionfruit macaroons. Each bite was throwing his taste buds a party.

"It's just one box, eat them in moderation," Marinette snorted.

"My entire modeling career will be over if you bring any more of these things," he said as he snatched up another in pure hypocrisy.

The greatest love-hate relationship in the history of mankind…

He threw his head back, this time intentionally just to be silly for Marinette. It didn't get the humorous reaction he tried to elicit from her, but he didn't have time to add a third moan to his act before she slammed herself against his chest and knocked him to the floor. The first thing he felt was confusion. The next, pain in the back of his head from banging it on tile. The third, absolute terror as he lifted his head to see her writhing on him.

At first he didn't know what had happened, it had all been so sudden. It didn't take long to understand that her writhing was actually convulsing. The sounds she made as she struggled to breathe, like strangled gasps for air, were downright horrifying to listen to. As Chat Noir he was expected to keep a level head under any and all circumstances, be they medical or otherwise. He'd talked to medical professionals before for the sake of his performance regarding citizen safety, primarily concerning first aid and different approaches for various situations. Seizures had been included but he only knew the basics, he didn't know how—or even if—he could stop one.

He rushed to get out from under her and dragged her out of the kitchen area. Too many things she could bang her head on. Right outside was a clearer, more open area. He turned her onto her side and watched her. Helplessly. Again. He needed someone to call an ambulance. Erek was supposed to be taking a bath and besides, he didn't want a kid so young to see his mother like this. She had probably been overdue for a hospital visit but he hadn't prepared himself for anything beyond respiratory issues.

A mixture of blood and saliva began leaking from her mouth. He had no idea where the blood was coming from, but it brought back awful memories. He didn't imagine he'd have to deal with it twice.

"It's okay," he whispered to himself. "It's okay, stay calm."

Her seizure continued for what seemed like hours, days even, though in reality it was only about five minutes or so. The only way to call an ambulance would be to leave her or have Erek do it, but he honestly couldn't trust Erek to relay proper information back and forth, let alone stop crying long enough to speak. It was best to let him play peacefully in the bathtub. He had to let Marinette ride it out in the meantime.

When she did finally stop convulsing, she looked as if she was asleep. He only knew what to do during convulsions, he wasn't informed of any actions to take in the aftermath. He had never once encountered someone seizing before either.

Was it safe to leave her now? What if she started convulsing again? Was it better to wait until she woke up? How long would that take? How soon did doctors need to see her? Was it even okay to move her?

"Don't worry, she should snap out of it soon," a voice said next to him.

"When?!" he hissed. "I need paramedics! Chat doesn't deal with these things!"

"Don't worry," Plagg emphasized. "One of your predecessors was epileptic, I've seen dozens of these."

What were the odds of that…

"My predecessors? You mean the Chat Noirs in the past?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately this was at a time when treatment for epilepsy wasn't really available and the rest of humanity thought seizures were due to insanity. Ironically this worked in his favor, all those absences were thought to be, you know, his insanity. Not many people questioned it. Made all the superhero work a lot easier and the Ladybug of that time was a huge help in keeping them under control, at least while Tikki was nearby."

"What…do I do?"

"First of all, calm down. You're about to cry and it isn't a good look for you."

He wiped his eyes and sniffled, unaware of the tears building up until now.

"Good, good, now take a deep breath."

He inhaled as much air as his lung capacity would allow before slowly exhaling.

"Marinette will wake up in a bit. She'll be confused at first, she might not know who you are or where she's at. It'll pass soon—"

"How soon?"

"Eh…varies, but in my experience within a few minutes."

"Few minutes, got it."

"After she's back to full awareness—and trust me, you'll know when she is—you can take her to the hospital."

"But an ambulance—!"

"Absolutely not," Plagg interrupted. "Between Erek and Marinette you're already risking enough attention. We don't need headlines and publicity about your designer who is living with you having a medical emergency. It won't be good for her or Erek either. Dress incognito and take her yourself."

"What about Erek?"

"Call Alya, call Marinette's parents. There must be someone available."

He exhaled again and nodded. Never did he think Plagg had valuable information to share that didn't involve cheese or the miraculous, but he couldn't be more thankful for it now. He hadn't needed Plagg's instruction in a long time.

As if on cue, Marinette groaned and slowly opened her eyes, lazily looking around. Plagg had already zipped out of sight. She looked dazed, her eyes glossy and unfocused. Definitely confused, as Plagg said she would be.

"What happened?" she slurred.

Her tone of voice seemed far too casual for him to assume she was aware again, but he answered her question anyway and she merely grunted an, "Oh."

He wondered if perhaps Marinette thought she was in a dream, or if she was even conscious enough to conceive of that possibility.

For the next few minutes, she kept asking what had happened and each time he answered. He could tell she was starting to come out of whatever stupor she'd been in when she began trying to move around. He couldn't phrase this sight as anything except pitiful. He wasn't completely certain of what was going on right now, in this phase of post-seizure activity, but to him it looked like she didn't have control over her body. Her arms would barely lift off the floor and her wrists wouldn't lift at all. Her fingers wouldn't bend to grip anything. Her legs weren't so much as twitching, and he knew deep down that she had to be trying if she was red to get up. Even her head wouldn't lift itself more than half an inch off the floor. Each time she tried to move she would wince. The way she looked around still seemed unfocused, but she was able to formulate more appropriate responses now and didn't ask what happened again and again.

Was this normal? Did she need help getting up? He could help her.

He tried to help her, but she was less than appreciative of his efforts. All he tried to do was sit her up and hold her so she wouldn't fall back over, but she groaned and said, "Don't move me."

He didn't realize why she'd said that when she so obviously was trying to move herself…until she threw up on the floor, her pants, and some of her hair. She could've just told him she was nauseous but nevertheless he pulled her away from the mess and she squeaked in embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine," he assured her in the softest voice possible. "We need to get you to a hospital; I need you to try to walk."

Her legs managed to bend a little at the knee, but aside from that wouldn't move.

"Can't…" she mumbled.

He hooked his arms under hers and tried to stand her up, but it was a fruitless attempt. He was convinced now that she truly could not control her body. Her head fell forward, her arms were limp, her legs were jelly, and she felt like dead weight. He was doing all the work in keeping her somewhat upright.

"Bed…" she sighed tiredly, looking through half-lidded eyes at his bedroom.

"Hospital bed," he corrected her. "I'll carry you, okay? I just need to change first."

He dragged her over to the couch and allowed her to rest on it while he changed into a hoodie, jeans, and dark sunglasses. He made sure to check on Erek one last time and confirmed the little boy was still pretending he was a diver in an ocean full of sharks. He would call Alya on the way and if she didn't answer or couldn't come, one of Marinette's parents surely would. He would leave the door unlocked but arm the security system, then give them the code so it would turn off once the door was opened.

Agh. No. He couldn't call someone on the way to the hospital. Erek was just too young.

He grabbed his phone and jammed the screen until Alya's picture showed up, followed by ringing. He hoped she would pick up. To his understanding she wasn't working today, but she did have three kids to manage and that in itself took up a huge chunk of any free time she had.

He felt he could only afford to wait about a minute before shifting the call to the bakery, where one of Marinette's parents would answer. Surely they wouldn't be too busy for a quick phone call… Sabine had found time to drop by earlier.

"Hello?" It was Sabine.

He let out a huge sigh of relief and rushed through everything that had happened, explaining it in less than thirty seconds. A record time for him. The seizure, the macaroons for some reason, his dilemma with Erek, and he was pretty sure the rest was just him spiraling. Either way, Sabine caught onto his request without him actually asking anything of her. He quickly blurted out his security code but clearly wasn't calm enough to carry on a proper conversation because Sabine had only understood one digit. She seemed much more accustomed to these types of emergencies. Made him wonder how many she had been through…

He repeated each number slowly and carefully, trying to match Sabine's mellow energy and respond appropriately to her soothing voice. Did Marinette have a history of seizures that he didn't know about? Was that how her mother was able to steady her breaths and not freak out like he apparently was?

By the end of the call, he was slightly more relaxed. Erek couldn't be left without supervision of some kind, but a genius idea struck him the moment he put his phone in his pocket in preparation to leave. He did have a little babysitter on demand. Perhaps this one wasn't the most orthodox but short-term, it would be fine.

"Plagg," Adrien mumbled, mindful of Erek in the bathtub. "Got a special mission for you."

"Mission? Where are we going?"

"Errrrr…well, more like I'm going. You get to stay and keep an eye on Erek—"

"What?!"

"—until Sabine gets here."

"I'm the kwami of destruction, an omnipotent being, a destroyer of entire civilizations, a devastating weapon! And you want me to babysit?!"

"For like fifteen minutes," he muttered. "It won't kill you."

"Of course it won't kill me but what if an akuma pops up? They always have terrible timing."

"Would you stop thinking about Chat Noir for once and focus on the reason all your Chats existed in the first place? I don't need you right now, Marinette does. Please, Plagg, help her."

Plagg opened his mouth to object, but no words came forth. He knew Plagg wasn't necessarily agreeing to do what he asked but at least he was considering it. The whole "she's dying anyway" argument would never work and that was pretty much the only ammunition the kwami had.

"Fine," Plagg growled. "But I fully expect extra camembert when you come back."

"No need. You'll come to me once Sabine gets here. Same hospital as last time."

For the second time in no more than ten mere seconds, Plagg was left at a loss for words.

The cat wouldn't be of much use by just watching Erek but any supervision would have to do. Right now Marinette needed to be taken to a hospital and treated. Maybe she would get lucky and the doctors would finally conclude a diagnosis.

He hastily went back to his living room, where Marinette lay motionlessly on the couch. She was slightly turned to her side. He hadn't left her like that. Had she been able to move, even if just a little?

He gently shook her shoulder when he noticed her eyes were closed and her breathing steady. Her eyelids fluttered open and she groggily looked at him. She seemed more aware and her eyes more focused now.

"Can you walk?" he asked, trying not to let his edging concern leak into his voice.

She blinked and sighed—not an annoyed sigh, though, more like an exhausted sigh.

Marinette clearly still had difficulty trying to prop herself up, but she definitely had more control and strength than she did when he left to change clothes. She still couldn't sit all the way up despite her best efforts, so he helped push her to her feet. She could stand, which he saw as progress, but she was extremely uncoordinated and her balance was atrocious. She leaned most of her weight on him as her legs were like those of a newborn fawn's.

On one hand, he was glad she was regaining control over her body. On the other hand, his mind kept questioning how much control she had permanently lost. Perhaps none, in the best case scenario.

He also noticed how quiet she was. Was this normal? It seemed normal, from everything he was observing. Marinette was acting like she had something worse than the flu and he didn't know one person alive who liked to gab during their suffering. And Marinette did indeed appear to be suffering.

"We're going to walk to the car now. Do you need me to carry you?" he asked her.

Marinette weakly nodded her head and he needed no further permission. He sat her back down just long enough to arm his security system and rushed to get her to his car, obviously ensuring the door had locked. Never had he been so grateful for a door that automatically locked when closed and unlocked with a code rather than a key.

He gently set her in the car and leaned the seat back so she wouldn't fall forward. He strapped her seat belt in, made sure it was secure, and then readied himself in the driver's seat. Sometime during the ride, Marinette mumbled a few sentences, but he couldn't bring himself to pay enough attention to what she was saying. His sole focus was getting her to the hospital without breaking every traffic law in Paris.

He tried to make the drive smooth for her sake, slowly down at the very few turns he would have to take and riding his brakes well before a stop light. She didn't seem to notice, but perhaps that was a sign that he was doing a good job. He chose to believe the latter.

By the grace of some greater power, he managed to keep his cool even when he arrived at the hospital. He parked the car and, while it wasn't the shortest walk to the entrance, he helped Marinette stumble out of the car. She wasn't in the best shape, which was to be expected, but she could somewhat steady herself now. Walking was challenging for her, he could tell, but she tried to compensate for poor coordination by waddling. He had to make sure his own feet weren't in the way of hers while holding her in case she tripped. He allowed her to set the pace.

He wanted so badly to carry her in but at the same time he wanted to respect her independence. She didn't want to be carried and although she had agreed earlier—when she couldn't walk—she was unlikely to agree now. But if she so much as hiccuped he would scoop her up and make a mad dash to the ER whether she liked it or not. She really had no clue how on edge he was at the moment. He was holding himself together with duct tape and a prayer.

It only took an eternity to get through the doors, where he called for help on Marinette's behalf. Unlike with Sabine, he didn't dump every bit of what happened on the nurse that came up to them, but managed to tell them she'd had a seizure and nothing beyond that. Her sorry state was already cause for concern among the hospital staff and two nurses jogged over to aid him in helping her to a bed.

He sat beside her as he waited for the doctor. The nurses tried to explain something to him, almost like they were briefing him, but he couldn't focus on what they were saying. Now that Marinette was safely inside a facility that could help her, and maybe figure out what was going on after all these years, he had time to think about all the questions he had and unfortunately imagine a lot of terrible things happening to both mother and child. He had already lost his mother, he could not let Erek live that life too. But he had never lost a friend before, and he could not accept losing one now. Marinette seemed to have already resigned herself to her fate but he wasn't letting her go that easily, he wasn't ready to see her in a casket anytime soon.

He was Chat Noir. Chat. Noir. He couldn't just sit back and watch this all happen. He had to intervene; he had to do something. Somehow. Surely he could help the doctors. He was no medical professional but he was trained and certified in basic life support. That…had to count for something, right?

A doctor finally came in and assessed Marinette, checking her pupils, asking her questions, listening to her heart, looking at her vitals, and asking her a few more questions. He was barely wrestling his own thoughts down as it happened. His body went on autopilot and one second he was being told to wait in the lobby until they called him, to which he gave his first name and last initial, and the next he was sitting in a chair only on the alert for his name to be called.

He tried his best to suppress flashbacks and tried just as hard not to ask himself questions he knew he couldn't answer. It didn't make a difference. He pulled the strings on his hoodie and the hood tightened over his face. At first he just wanted to hide from society, anxiety trying to reach its maximum peak as he imagined the worst news possible being delivered to him by a doctor who'd looked over Marinette's condition, but then he came to the realization that if the hood was too tight, there was a chance he wouldn't hear his name. So he tugged on the edges of the hood to loosen it back up. The sunglasses he still wore helped him feel less noticeable. Adrien Agreste was hands down the worst person to be right now.

"Adrien A."

What? Oh. That was faster than he expected. How long had he been stuck in his own head?

He got up and power-walked to the nurse who had called him over.

"Here to see Ms. Dupain-Cheng, correct?" she asked.

He nodded anxiously.

"She's okay, right?"

"She's just been transferred to the neurology wing," the nurse answered. "I can take you there."

"Please do."

"Right this way, sir."

The nurse didn't have to motion for him to follow her, he was practically on top of her the whole way, allowing her to be the guide but also overly eager to see Marinette. Thankfully, the poor nurse didn't seem to mind it much, giving him the impression that this wasn't the first time she'd dealt with people tailgating her on their way to see a loved one.

The nurse's pace was incredibly slow to Adrien but she eventually led him to his destination. As much as he wanted to burst through the door to see her sleeping peacefully, he asked the nurse's permission before entering.

Marinette both was and was not the sight he expected. She was hooked up to several less devices than when she had her lung issues, which was a relief, but she was crying. They were silent tears and at first glance she appeared depressed—something he absolutely could not blame her for—but closer inspection revealed an expression indicative of pain. Why wasn't she sleeping? She was knocked out on the couch not long ago. Why was she hurting? And where?

"We gave her some medicine earlier. Give it a little time to work," the nurse said beside him, as if answering a question he had yet to ask.

"Why is… Is she okay?"

He bit his lip nervously.

"About as okay as she can be after a seizure. The numbness is wearing off and she's really feeling the aftermath now. I have yet to meet a single person who calls it a pleasant experience."

He turned his attention from the nurse to strictly Marinette and walked up to the side of her bed. He took her hand in his to let her know that somebody was there, that she wasn't alone. She weakly squeezed his hand in response but her eyes remained closed and her lips tight.

"How are you feeling?"

He regretted that question the moment he asked it.

"My head…" she choked out.

"The nurse said the medicine will work soon."

He didn't know a ballpark estimate of "soon", but the nurse had told him it would work and he had to trust that.

He wanted to say something else but he was stopped when he heard quiet sobbing interrupted by tiny gasps. He had never seen Marinette in this much pain before. The nurse simply looked at the pair with sympathy but left. In an odd way this was reassuring. If anything was out of the ordinary with Marinette, the nurse would've taken action. Her leaving them alone was a clear sign that yes, this was normal.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and although he didn't want a distraction from the woman in obvious agony lying before him, he knew it was likely one of Marinette's parents. She looked at him through cracked eyes upon hearing the vibration in an otherwise silent room.

It was a text, not a call or a voicemail, and simply said, "I'm here with Erek, please keep me updated on Marinette."

He could at least rest easy knowing Sabine was babysitting Erek, but he did feel a twinge of guilt over that. Sabine was her mother and had to stay behind instead of being here supporting her daughter. He should've been the one to stay behind, but the circumstances hadn't allowed for it. He knew this but nevertheless, he wasn't as important as her parents and his company was probably less desired than theirs. Still, even though he couldn't compare to her parents, at least he was able to offer her some form of companionship in her time of need.

Well, one of many times of need, as he understood.

"Is your head starting to get better?" he asked Marinette, trying to keep his voice down so he wouldn't cause her more pain.

She slowly nodded her head and sniffled, her sobs finally calming but her face still telling of the pain she was in.

"Is the medicine working?"

She nodded again. Her blinks now were slowing down a bit. He wanted more than anything for her to sleep for a while. Hopefully she would sleep off the headache and wake up feeling better. And sleep promoted recovery anyway.

A/N

Yikes. Been a while. I'm very sorry. I hope the story remains enjoyable despite the slow updates!