It makes me so happy to hear from you guys in the reviews! It's crazy to me how long some of you have been on this journey with me. I've been super invested in this story lately, especially since things are going to be picking up soon ;)

I have a quick question, though. What's the ideal chapter length for you guys? Lately I've been outlining the chapters ahead of time, but they're turning out wayyyy longer than expected. I had to push another scene to the next chapter because this one would've turned out even bigger than the last chapter. I don't want to post a wall of text, and I want this story to have a good pace so you can pause if you feel like it. Most of the previous chapters have averaged 5-6k, with the last one being a little over 11k and this one 8k. Let me know what you think.

Anyway, without further ado, enjoy ;)

Marinette's feet were rooted to the ground, and no matter how hard she tried to move them, she couldn't. She wanted so desperately to run to him where he was hunched over his mother's body, sobs shaking his form as the rain poured over them. Panic was setting in, and her heart pounded in her chest as she willed any muscle in her body to move, but there was nothing she could do. Her eyes were unwillingly fixed on the scene before her.

The sound of breaking glass filled her ears and shattered her paralysis, and she flinched as she raised her hands over her head. Shards fell at her feet, narrowly missing her. Marinette peered over her arms at the new hole in the bakery window, and inside she could see the wreckage of splintered shelves and crushed pastries, as well as the soldiers beating mercilessly on her father.

Anxiety and fear consumed her as she made a move towards her home before stopping to look back at her best friend. She felt a tug to go to him, but she couldn't leave her papa.

But whoever did this to Emilie could still be out here. Adrien was in danger.

A different kind of paralysis set in as two halves of her tried to go in separate directions. Her hands came up to clutch at her head as the rushing sound of her blood pumping swarmed her.

"Stop!" she yelled, and suddenly, the world went quiet. The heavy rain was gone, along with the sound of Adrien's cries and the thuds of blows landing on her dad. She looked around and saw the street was completely empty. The bakery was completely empty.

"Hello?" she called, but there wasn't a soul in sight. It became hard to breathe as she frantically spun around searching for anyone to help her.

She started running blindly. She ran until she was engulfed by trees, and even though she tripped over the brush, she didn't slow her pace. Marinette ran until she saw the glow of a tent nearby, and she felt a glimmer of hope rise in her as she beelined towards it.

She stumbled inside, but the relief she had started to feel was quickly replaced by horror as an irony smell stung at her nostrils.

The table in front of her was smeared with blood, and off to the side, Chat lay motionless on the ground. She dropped onto her knees next to him, tears welling up in her eyes as she caught sight of the long, deep gash on his left hand and wrist. A pool of red had formed under it as he continued to bleed out.

She grabbed his face with both hands and turned him to face her. His foggy gaze focused on her from behind the veil, but his eyelids were drooping. "Chat? Chat, stay with me!" She felt a bubble of anger rise in her as a tear slipped down her cheek. "Why didn't you get help?! We could've fixed this!"

He shook his head as if to brush her off. "I'm fine, M'Lady." His voice was weak and barely audible. "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I'm gonna worry about you!"

He smiled at her as his eyes slipped closed. "It's okay. I can sleep now."

"No! No, you have to stay awake!" She shook his face, but he didn't open his eyes. He had gone completely still, and her gut wrenched as the realization set in. He was gone.

She sobbed freely now. Her arms frantically reached under him, wrapping around tightly as she tried to hold onto what was left of him. She buried her face in his chest, muffling her cries. The world was spinning, and it felt like the ground had been pulled from underneath her.

He wasn't in her arms anymore, and soon she was falling into darkness.

Marinette shot upright in her bed, grasping at her throat as she tried to find oxygen. Her eyes frantically searched the area in front of her, looking for any sign of the dying revolutionary leader, but all she saw was the shadowy interior of her empty tent. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her heart to stop racing, but she immediately opened them again when images of her dream flashed through her mind. She gently laid herself onto her back and stared up at the canvas above her.

Chat had never made his way into her nightmares before. She always saw Adrien and Emilie, and occasionally her parents left to the mercy of the royal soldiers, where she was powerless to stop it. This time, however, she had managed to run for help, and for a fleeting moment she thought she had found it with Chat. But then…

Her eyes teared up as she was immersed in that moment again. She knew now that it wasn't real, that it was just a dream, but she could still feel all of that pain as if she had just witnessed his death. It was a vivid memory now.

Marinette swiped at her eyes as a tear trickled down her temple. Chat's alive, she reminded herself, but she couldn't help but wonder why her mind had chosen to include him in her nightmare. She was used to the images of Adrien as she'd experienced that moment in real time, had been dealing with the fallout for over a decade, but with Chat, she wasn't prepared for that at all. It caught her completely off guard, and she had never felt so terrified.

I'm fine, M'Lady. Don't worry about me.

She could hear those words clearly in her mind, as fresh as if he had just spoken them to her. The longer she was able to collect herself, the more she understood what had happened. In the dream, Chat wasn't taking care of himself, and he had let his wound bleed until he collapsed, except Marinette couldn't revive him this time.

I can sleep now.

Her heart clenched at the horrible irony. With everything going on with the rumors and then her exam, she never followed up with Chat about how he was doing or if he had started sleeping more. She doubted he did. Enough time had passed that Squad D's fate had sunken in, and life in the revolution moved on as normal. Chat wasn't distant anymore, and he seemed to find joy in the time they spent together in their new secret place.

But she knew he had other memories that plagued him as she had witnessed in his tent the night he collapsed. He admitted to her that he couldn't sleep, even if he tried. It was something that he had dealt with for years, just as she did with her trauma from Emilie's death.

If only she could help him somehow, ease some of his suffering…

An idea popped into her head, and although she had no clue what time it was, she sat up and quickly got dressed. Once she had applied a fresh layer of face paint and had her hair secured into her new signature ponytail, she ventured off into the darkness outside of her tent.

Marinette wasn't sure where to go at first, but she found herself wandering into the Central Compound. It was deserted and had an eerie feel to it in the dead of night. She carefully made her way past the small wooden houses and into the collection of larger buildings, biting her lip as she paid close attention to each, trying to figure out which one would hold what she was looking for.

The sound of footsteps behind her caused her to whip her head around. A man with purple face paint came down the path towards her, and he seemed equally as startled to see her. Must be a night guard. Maybe he could help.

"Excuse me," she said, approaching him with a shy smile. "Do you think you can help me find something?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "Maybe. What are you doing out here?" His eyes flicked to the empty street around them.

Marinette fiddled with her hands nervously. "I'm looking for a mattress."

He quirked an eyebrow. "A mattress?"

She nodded. "Do you know where I can find one?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't you have one?"

Marinette was acutely aware of the sword attached to the man's hip, as well as how suspicious she must look right now. She continued to feign innocence. "I do, but…," her mind scrambled for an excuse, "I need a new one."

"Uh-huh," he said, disbelief clear in his tone. "And why can't this wait until the morning?"

Her thoughts raced as she tried to come up with an answer, and before she could really think it through, she voiced the first idea that popped into her head. "Because it's ruined! You know, it's…," she gave him a sheepish smile, "that time of the month?"

His eyes widened, and he immediately averted his gaze. "Oh," he cleared his throat as his face flushed, "I see." Any embarrassment Marinette felt was replaced by relief as he seemed to buy her lie. He kept his eyes on the path and walked past her. "Right this way then."

He led her to a large rectangular building not far from where they stood, and when they entered, she realized it was a warehouse. Despite its cavernous size, the room was packed tightly with more things than she could keep track of. She was able to glimpse crates of shields, armor, swords, spears, bows, arrows, pretty much any type of weapon she could come up with. There was also a wide expanse of tools and lumber and bricks, and she couldn't keep her eyes from wandering from one thing to the next. She nearly ran into the guard when he stopped in front of a stack of mattresses.

He grabbed one from the top of the pile, and before he could move to leave, she spoke. "Could I also get a bed frame? And a pillow?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "Mine didn't come with a frame," she supplied weakly, "and my pillow is… well…"

He averted his eyes again and nodded, and she was grateful she didn't have to continue the lie further. By the time they left the warehouse, Marinette had a sack strapped to her back containing disassembled pieces of a bed frame, as well as a pillow and a fresh blanket crammed inside.

The guard helped her carry the mattress to the treeline, where Marinette thanked him for all his help and insisted she take it from there, not wanting to distract him from his duties. He awkwardly wished her well, and she was grateful when he finally left. It took every ounce of strength she could muster to haul the mattress through the forest, the weight of the bag on her back draining her with every step.

For once, she was glad to see Chat's light on in his tent. She pushed away the flooding memories of her dream as she stopped in front of it, and with one last burst of energy, she stood the mattress on its end and pushed it forward. It fell through the slit in the canvas and flopped with a loud thump on the ground inside, and she followed quickly behind, collapsing on top of it.

Chat, who was seated on a stool at the table and had been lightly dozing off, sprung awake at her arrival. For a brief moment she felt guilty for waking him, but her exhaustion quickly took over all of her senses as she pointed an unsteady finger at his shocked face. "This," she panted, face flushed and shining with sweat, "is for you."

He stared at her with wide eyes, mouth dropped open almost comically. He spluttered for a moment, eyes raking over her weak form and all of the materials she brought with her. He finally settled with, "Shouldn't you be sleeping?!"

She slid the sack from her back and propped it up in front of her. "Yes, and so should you." She gave him a stern look. "On a bed." Marinette upturned the bag and dumped its contents onto the mattress.

Chat continued to stare at her, unable to come up with a retort as she started sorting through the wooden pieces in front of her. He stood up and began approaching her. "Look, this really isn't necessary-"

He stopped short when she sent him the most intimidating glare she could muster, which wasn't too hard considering everything she went through to get him this. Add in the resolve she gained from her nightmare this morning, and it was clear on her face that she was not to be argued with. "You're not gonna fight me on this," she said firmly. "And I'm not leaving until I've put this stupid thing together." She held two long pieces of wood out in front of her, experimentally putting them next to each other to see if they fit.

Chat stared for a long moment. Then, he let out a resigned sigh, and she knew she had won. He crouched down next to her and took the wood from her hands. "Just when I thought you couldn't surprise me more…"

They spent the next half hour on the ground assembling the bed frame. Chat seemed to have done this before, so Marinette let him take the lead, helping him hold pieces together while he put the screws in. They had just finished the final piece and were standing above the frame, admiring their work, when Chat gave her a curious look. "How did you even get this?"

She flushed and averted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

A smirk crept onto his face and he ducked slightly to meet her eyes. "Oh, now you have to tell me."

She silently wished he would stop looking at her like that with his stupidly handsome face. Her flush deepened as she mumbled out the excuse she had given the night guard. Immediately, Chat barked out a laugh and doubled over, and she couldn't help smiling herself as he cackled beside her.

"Look," she said, fighting to keep the grin off her face, "I did what I had to do, okay?"

Chat reached his fingers up under his veil and wiped tears from his eyes. He went to speak but was interrupted by another round of laughter, and she couldn't help but appreciate the sound. He had never laughed this hard before, and she wanted to enjoy every second.

"Who," he let out a breath that turned into a giggle, "Who was it? The guard?"

"I didn't get his name." Marinette finally allowed herself to chuckle too as she remembered his shocked reaction when she first told him the excuse. "He had purple face paint?" she offered.

Chat's eyebrows rose in recognition. "Must have been Falcon! That's even better." His laughs had died down by now, but his eyes still sparkled with mirth.

She gave him a slightly puzzled look. "Since when are falcons purple?"

He shrugged. "That's the color he chose. I don't make the rules."

She placed her hands on her hips and turned her whole body to face him. "Actually, you do make the rules. Unless that's not part of the revolutionary leader's job description," she teased, giving him assessing once over.

He tilted his head at her. "Fine," he said, and her heart rate increased as he took a step closer to her, "then from my expertise as the revolutionary leader, I know that ladybugs have black spots." He reached up and booped her nose. "But I don't see any here."

She scrunched up her nose, ignoring how the feeling of his touch lingered on her skin. "Touché. But," she gestured down to her red and black outfit, "at least I've got the color scheme down."

His eyes drifted down to scan her body before his gaze snapped back to her. "True. You've got all the makings of a Black Widow."

She shuddered at the thought of the spider before her face turned defensive. "Oh yeah? Well you make a nice tree frog."

His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Wow," he drew out the word, but a smirk was tugging at his lips.

She leaned forward slightly, and his head tilted down to keep his gaze fixed on her. "You started it, Kitty Cat." It was only after the words left her mouth that she realized how close they were. He said nothing, and they stared at each other for a brief moment, which felt like a lot longer to Marinette as she became hyper-aware of their proximity. She cleared her throat and leaned back, and he did the same as they both seemed to snap back to the task at hand. "So the bed," she said, turning to look down at the finished frame.

"The bed," he echoed, surveying it as well. "Wanna give me a hand with it?"

They positioned themselves on either side and carried the frame to what would now become Chat's bedroom. They retrieved the mattress afterwards, and Marinette busied herself with making the sheets while fighting thoughts of being so close to Chat's perfectly sculpted face. While she finished tucking the blanket under the mattress, she felt the prickly sensation of being watched, and turned to see Chat standing in the doorway, pillow in hand. He quickly flicked his gaze away and walked the rest of the way inside, dropping the pillow at the head of the bed.

She stood straight and admired the result. An idea popped into her head, and she gave him a mischievous look before starting forward and pushing him out of the room.

"What are you-" he started to say, but she shushed him until they were standing just outside of the slit in the canvas.

She grinned at him. "I have a surprise for you."

He raised his eyebrows as his gaze flicked from her to the canvas next to them. "Oh really?"

"Mhm." She rocked back and forth on her heels. "Close your eyes."

He rolled his eyes before slipping them closed, and she grabbed his hands and led him into the room. Once he was positioned inside, she said, "Okay, open them."

He opened his eyes and plastered an overdramatic look of surprise onto his face. "A bed?! No way!"

She couldn't help but giggle as he played along with her antics, but then her face softened as she leaned over slightly, willing him to look at her. He did, and his own face settled back to normal as he turned his body to completely face her.

"You need this Chat," she implored, hoping he could pick up on the seriousness in her tone. "Please use it."

His eyes looked between each of hers as a troubled expression spread across his face, and she desperately wanted to know the reason why this was so hard for him. Slowly, his face relaxed as he conceded. "Okay." She felt her heart lighten, glad he was finally listening to her. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. She wasted no time in returning the hug, wrapping her own around his torso. He rested his lips against her hair. "Thank you," he whispered, and she squeezed him tighter in response.

They stayed like that for a few moments, neither wanting to be the first to pull back. "While you're here," Chat said, and Marinette could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest against her ear, "I want to show you something."

She pulled back just enough so she could give him an inquisitive look. "What?"

He unwrapped his arms from around her, but rather than pulling them away, he slid his hands down her shoulders until he was grasping both of hers. He took a step back, gently pulling her with him. "Come with me."

Marinette felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach as he guided her back to the main room, not breaking eye contact until he needed to turn them towards the door. He dropped one of her hands, but his other stayed firmly clasped around hers. "The last time you did this you took me to the apple tree," she said. "Not sure how you're gonna beat that."

He glanced down at her with a twinkle in his eye, squeezing her hand. "Just wait."

They stepped out into the night, but it had grown lighter outside. Shadows danced on the grass before them as they weaved through the trees. For once, Marinette's mind wasn't plagued with worries of being seen with Chat. She contentedly followed him as he led her to their secret spot.

When they entered the clearing, she gave a mock gasp and turned surprised eyes over to him. "Wow! It's beautiful, Chat!"

He rolled his eyes but played along anyway. "That's surprise number one."

He pulled her past the apple tree and up the rising slope, leading her all the way to the treeline. It was there that he stopped, and she tried not to feel disappointed when he dropped her hand. He gestured his arm up the tree. "M'Lady."

She gave him a bewildered look. "You want me to climb it?"

He nodded, and at her hesitant stare, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Trust me."

She watched as he hooked a gloved hand around a low branch and pulled himself upwards. Once he had settled, he offered it to her. She placed her hand in his, still slightly doubtful, and let him pull her up. They continued this process, him climbing and then turning to help her, until they reached a sturdy branch near the top of the tree. It was surprisingly wide considering how far up they were, and another branch grew directly behind it, acting as a sort of backrest as they settled down on the wood.

Chat gripped her arm to help her keep her balance until she found a comfortable position to sit in. Once she did, she was able to look out at the view in front of her.

Her breath hitched at the sight. There was an opening in the branches, so their view of the expansive landscape was unobstructed by leaves. Marinette could see miles and miles of treetops laid out before them, but that wasn't what caught her eye.

No, she stared in awe at the brilliant hues of red and pink and orange that lit the horizon, dancing across the skyline and illuminating the scene before them. Just as she thought nothing could be more stunning, a glimmer of yellow shone through as the sun began its ascent into the sky. Her eyes were transfixed on the sight, and never before had she felt so small, so insignificant, in the presence of something so beautiful.

She tore her eyes away to look at Chat beside her, a look of reverence on his face as he gazed out at the landscape. Marinette thought of his words from earlier: just when I thought you couldn't surprise me more. She couldn't help but stare in wonder at the man beside her, his golden hair and skin practically glowing in the light. The sunrise wasn't the only thing leaving her breathless.

Her turned his gaze to her, and although the veil tinted his eyes to a gray hue, she caught a glimpse of gold shining in them too, and for the first time she found herself wondering what shade they were. She could tell they were a light color. Were they blue?

"It's gorgeous, Chat," she said, and she found her voice coming out soft, not wanting to shatter the serenity of the moment.

He gave her a gentle smile, matching her tone. "It is." Her heart fluttered in her chest as he continued to look at her, tenderness in his eyes. "I like to do this from time to time. It helps remind me that everything down there," he motioned to the ground, "is trivial compared to this."

Her eyes followed his hand before rising to the scene before them. He was right. In the chaos that had become her life, it was so easy to get caught up in everything that was wrong, not knowing that something like this existed in the treetops.

Every day, the sun rose and fell, whether it be over a thriving country or the ruins of what it was now. Despite everything, it was a constant presence over them, a beauty that could never be taken away.

In that moment, as she sat high above the world, Marinette had never felt more free.

This surprise was far better than anything she could have imagined, and a thought came to her as a thread formed between different memories she had of Chat. No matter where they were, or at what point in their friendship, Chat was always staring at the sky. She recalled him complaining every now and then when it was cloudy, or just basking in the sunlight as it shone down on them as they trained together.

She turned to him again. "Is this why you love the sun so much?" He looked taken aback, and she continued. "You're always looking for it in the sky."

He stared at her in amazement. "You noticed that?"

She nodded, a smile creeping onto her face as she nudged him with her shoulder. "I've spent enough time with you to pick up on those things."

His eyes softened as he looked at her. Then, they became downcast. He looked back out at the scene before them, and she noticed a sorrowful expression leak onto his face. "You know, I always took it for granted."

She was slightly puzzled by his sudden mood change. "Don't we all?" She attempted to make her tone light, but it was hard as she looked at him, a painful longing growing more apparent in his gaze as he stared ahead. When he said nothing, she spoke again. "What changed?"

Chat exhaled softly, and he brought his foot up onto the branch, resting his chin on his knee and hugging his leg with his arms. She couldn't help but think how much smaller he looked, not at all like the strong, revolutionary leader he was, but like a boy. A vulnerable boy.

It took a few moments for him to speak, and when he did, it was with a note of hesitation. "There was a time in my life… when I thought I'd never see this again."

Her eyes were fixated on his profile, widening with concern. Never… see the sun again?

Let me out of here. Help me.

Her breath caught in her throat, and before she could work through the jumble of questions forming in her mind, he continued, eyes raking over the collage of colors, drinking in every last drop. "I've come to appreciate it a lot more, and if this is the last time I see the sun," he looked at her then, and her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the pain in his eyes, "then I want to remember it."

Marinette felt her heart clench, and she was overwhelmed by a wave of sympathy for the man before her. What happened to you? She wanted so badly to say the words aloud, but it was like her voice had been stolen from her, and the longer she stared into those gleaming veiled eyes of his, the less sense she could make of her own thoughts.

She gave up trying to reason through what he just said, instead choosing to be there, to comfort. She scooched herself over until their shoulders were pressed firmly together and laid her head on his shoulder. Her hand came up to grab his bicep, and she rubbed her thumb across the smooth surface of his skin. He stilled at first, but then she felt him slowly lay his head on top of hers before dropping its entire weight as he leaned against her.

Marinette had no idea how long they stayed like that. It could have been ten minutes, or maybe an hour, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the man beside her and the unknown wounds he carried with him, wounds she now realized bled into his actions every day. One of the many quirks about Chat had a much deeper meaning to it, and she longed to know what had caused it.

She squeezed his arm, and she felt him press his head further into her hair. Whatever had happened, he would tell her when he was ready. She wasn't going to press him about it; she had her own traumas she had yet to disclose to him, and when the time was right, she would.

But for now, they snuggled deeper into each other. She didn't notice the way his hand traveled up to his eyes, lifting the veil so he could truly take in the magnificent spectrum of warmth unfolding in the sky above.

Once they were on the ground again, Marinette prepared herself to part ways with Chat. She may have a few days off, but he was the revolutionary leader, and although she wasn't sure of all the duties his job entailed, she knew she couldn't expect him to stick around.

But yet again, he surprised her.

"I could use a day off," he said, his face much brighter now than it had been in the tree. "And I don't know about you, but I'm famished." He placed a hand on his stomach to emphasize his words, and she realized her own stomach had been grumbling on and off for who knows how long.

She gestured to the apple tree beside them. "Do you think you can handle giving me a boost again?"

He chuckled. "Of course I can, but the last time you picked an apple for me it didn't turn out too well."

She crossed her arms over her chest as an amused smile crossed her face. "I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah." His expression then turned mischievous. "But I know where we can get something a little more filling."

They walked to the Central Compound together, and as they passed a few Northern soldiers by the tents, Marinette felt that familiar feeling of unease and hyper-awareness of how she appeared next to Chat. He, on the other hand, maintained calm and collected as he greeted them cheerily.

Her worried thoughts paused as her eyes fell on Chat next to her. Despite the rumors, he continued to act as he always did, and from the way the soldiers greeted him back, it didn't seem as though he had been affected at all by the gossip. Perhaps it was simply because the Northern soldiers didn't care as much, or maybe it was something else.

It was hard for anyone who met Chat to not instantly like his personality, and she knew the reason why. He was always so genuine, and even though she knew he was sometimes masking his own issues, he was never fake. He had such a kind heart, and he displayed it openly to all of his soldiers.

A new perspective popped into her mind as she reflected on herself.

Throughout most of her time here, she would admit she hadn't been the most approachable person. Actually, this was done on purpose, to prevent anyone from getting too close to her and figuring out her identity as a woman. However, that wasn't necessary anymore. Her continued standoffish demeanor towards the other soldiers wasn't doing her any favors, and as they passed yet another Northern soldier, Marinette realized she had never attempted to greet one of them before.

While Chat was open and friendly to everyone he met, Marinette only allowed her personality to shine in front of him, Alya, and Nino. Sure, she had displayed her kindness a few times to her troop members, like when she helped Pegasus after he sprained his ankle, but she never went out of her way to approach or befriend anyone. Now that she didn't have to hide anymore, didn't have to fly under the radar in fear of being discovered, she realized that if she ever wanted to walk freely and without worry, she needed to start with how she carried herself.

As they passed another Northern soldier, she found herself waving to him as well, a pleasant "good morning" leaving her lips. The soldier gave them a curt nod and returned the sentiment before heading off in another direction.

Chat turned to her, slightly surprised. "You're being friendly today."

She shrugged. "I don't have to use that horrendous guy voice anymore, so I feel free to talk."

His eyes light up. "Your guy voice?!" He brought his hands together in a pleading manner. "Please can I hear this."

She crossed her arms over her chest and fixed him with a defiant stare. "Not a chance."

Chat bugged her about it the entire walk to the Compound, even going so far as to give her his best impression of a girl voice in exchange -it was terrible, by the way- but she refused to budge. As they passed the farmers on the edges of the path, Marinette greeted them warmly. It was strange how much lighter she felt with every interaction, and soon she found herself wondering what kept her from doing this before.

Back at home, she knew all of her fellow townspeople by name. It was comforting to be so familiar with them, to have a sense of community despite their oppressive circumstances. Here in the revolution, they were safe in the little world they had built, thriving in their sanctuary. She had passed them every day on her walk back to the South. Why hadn't she taken the time to get to know them sooner?

It was like a veil was slowly lifting from before her eyes, no longer lost in her head. She could see the world much clearer now, and she was finally ready to interact with it.

They approached the building with the chimney, a steady cloud of smoke rising from the top, and Chat held open the door for her. She bowed her head at him in thanks before entering, and he followed close behind.

Marinette hadn't been in this building since that first day when she arrived with Alya. Her face became reminiscent as memories of that time flooded her mind. She had been so apprehensive, so suspicious of her surroundings. A laugh almost escaped her as she recalled her previous impressions of Chat. She had thought he was a scary, older man, which couldn't have been farther from the truth. That felt like so long ago, and suddenly she was confronted with the fact that she had no clue how much time had passed since then.

Her eyes landed on the kitchen behind the counter, and a sudden, strong pang of guilt stabbed her when she saw the familiar layout that reminded her so much of the bakery's kitchen.

God, her parents must be so worried. She had sent them a letter explaining that she was safe but that she couldn't contact them anymore, and then she went silent. Despite her assurances, she knew her Maman and Papa would always be thinking of her, wondering how she was or if she got into trouble with the royal guards. The guilt grew stronger as she admitted to herself that she hadn't done the same for them, and she made a mental note to talk to Alya about sending them another letter.

Alya's mom had been standing near the back wall, but she approached the counter when she noticed their presence. "What a surprise!"

Chat beamed at her. "Good morning, Marlena!"

Marinette snapped from her trance and plastered on a large smile. "Hello! How are you today?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. What brings you in?" She looked between the two of them.

"To say hello of course!" Chat said, but when she raised her eyebrows at him, he sighed before leaning his elbows on the counter, bringing his hand up and leaving a small space between his thumb and forefinger. "But we're also just a tich hungry."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression becoming stern. "Are you trying to sneak snacks, Chat Noir?" She looked like a mother about to scold their child, and he cowered slightly under her gaze. Marinette watched them, entertained.

"I wouldn't say sneak. We're here asking, aren't we?"

"Don't loop me into this," Marinette said. He shot her a look over his shoulder. "What? This was your idea."

He pressed his lips into a pout and turned back to Alya's mom, plastering on his best puppy dog eyes. She stared at him, completely undeterred, before she turned her head to consider the kitchen behind her. "Okay," she said, and a large grin had just begun to spread across Chat's face when she continued. "But only on one condition."

He blinked. "What is it?"

Five minutes later, the two of them stood side by side at the kitchen counter, aprons tied around their waists. Marinette caught sight of Chat beside her, and she covered her mouth with a hand as another laugh bubbled up.

Marlena was making them work for their meal, and since they were going to be making bread, it only made sense that they wore the appropriate attire so they didn't get flour all over their clothes. But of course, the only available aprons were decorated with delicate pink flowers, and Marinette had burst into giggles at the expression on Chat's face when he was handed his.

"Are you still laughing at me?" he said, looking disgruntled.

She chanced another peek at him out of the corner of her eye, but that only caused her composure to crack as the laugh finally escaped her. His frown deepened, and she swiped a hand through the air. "I'm sorry, it's just so funny." She looked over at him, and he had his arms crossed, sulking like a child. "It's just so not your style."

He huffed out a breath before uncrossing his arms and cracking his knuckles. "You know what? Laugh at me all you want. I look fabulous." He dramatically flipped his head to the side, his bangs momentarily rising before falling again at his eyebrows.

Marinette watched him with amusement. "Own it, girl," she said before jumping back as he attempted to throw a pinch of flour in her face.

"Chat Noir!" Marlena's voice snapped their heads to attention. She had gone into the pantry to grab the yeast, and she now stood before them with her hands on her hips. "I leave for one minute and you're already making a mess!"

Chat shrunk down sheepishly. "Sorry."

Marlena proceeded to demonstrate to them how to make the dough, although none of the information was new to Marinette. She had done this countless times with her papa, and by now it was second nature. Chat listened to the instructions attentively, not wanting to be scolded again, and she found it hilarious to see him this way. Here he was, the revolutionary leader, normally so suave and relaxed, nervously standing at attention while he learned how to make bread.

They were left to knead the dough while Marlena ventured down the street to pick up more clean aprons from the seamstresses. Marinette easily fell into a rhythm as her hands skillfully maneuvered the dough, and she noticed Chat pause beside her.

"Have you done this before?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, Papa taught me when I was younger." She smiled fondly as she continued to work, thinking about all those times they bonded together doing exactly this.

Chat watched her hands before trying to mimic the movements. She silently assessed him from the corner of her eye. "Hold on," she said, grabbing his wrist. "You're using your fingers too much. You're gonna want to use the heels of her hands. It spreads the dough more evenly." She gave him a demonstration, flattening the dough before grabbing the end and neatly folding it in half. "Then you want to do this, and you repeat the process." She looked up at him. "Got it?"

He gave a short nod before attempting to do as told. She watched him as he hesitantly pressed down before awkwardly folding the misshapen pancake in half, and although he didn't look comfortable with the movements yet, the more he did it, the more confident he became.

Marinette dropped tips to him every now and then, and she couldn't help but muse to herself about how the tables had turned between them. Chat was always the more experienced one as he shared his knowledge of combat and exercise, but now here he was, completely out of his element, while she felt at home.

She stilled her movements once she deemed that her dough had been kneaded enough, and she stood next to Chat while he continued to work. His was far from ready.

"I don't like you watching me," he said suddenly.

"Why not?"

"I feel like you're judging me."

She hummed to herself. "Now you know how it feels." His hands stopped as he looked over at her questioningly. She raised her eyebrows at him. "I didn't know what I was doing when we started training, but you had to be there to see what I was doing wrong."

He pressed his lips together as he thought about it. "Fair enough." He started kneading again, but a smirk appeared on his face. "But I have to say, I'm a far funnier instructor. The yeast you could do is crack a joke every now and then."

She gave him a deadpan look. "If I did that, the jokes would get stale pretty fast."

His eyes lit up as they met hers again. "Rye so serious, M'Lady? Afraid you can't beat me at another pun war?"

A determined look solidified on her face as she prepared to accept the challenge. She had grown up in a bakery, so this topic was her domain. She had all the vocabulary engrained -ha, engrained- in her mind, not to mention she and Adrien used to pun incessantly about pastries in her father's kitchen, so she had a wide array of phrases locked and ready.

"It's scone to be a harder battle for you this time, Kitty Cat. Get bready, because you're toast."

Chat had never looked more thrilled, his dough completely forgotten as he zeroed in on her. "You sure about that, Buguette?" He leaned closer to her. "Because I'm ready to crumble."

They were practically nose to nose, and she had opened her mouth to retort when the sound of the door opening caused them both to jump apart. Marinette quickly put her hands back on her dough before she remembered it didn't need anymore work, so she awkwardly rested them there, face slightly flushed. Chat stared down at the counter, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Oblivious, Marlena entered with a bag of fresh aprons clutched in one hand. She dropped it off to the side before approaching them, gaze dropping to evaluate their work.

Her eyes brightened at Marinette's dough, and she prodded it to test the consistency. "Excellent job! It's perfect!" Marinette beamed, and Marlena moved onto Chat's lumpy pile. "Hmm," she said, "still not quite there yet."

Chat let out a quiet huff, and Marinette shot him a triumphant smirk. He stuck his tongue out at her in response.

Marlena enlisted their help preparing a few other dishes, but for the most part it was Marinette that assisted her. Chat was spectacularly good at making a complete mess of anything he touched, so he spent most of his time cleaning up whatever ingredients he spilled on the floor.

They had been in the kitchen for two hours when Marlena's assistant chefs arrived, and Marinette and Chat were relinquished of their duties. They were seen off with a small basket of food, their stomachs grumbling loudly from the hours of work in the pleasant aroma of the kitchen. The two of them all but ran back to their clearing to dig into their meal.

Marlena had been kind to them, packing half a loaf of the bread they had made along with two bowls of the best beef stew Marinette had ever tasted. She took to dunking pieces of bread into her bowl, unable to contain the moan that escaped her lips at the wondrous flavors exploding on her taste buds.

Chat, who was seated next to her as they both leaned against the trunk of the apple tree, raised an eyebrow. "Do you need some alone time? I feel like I'm intruding on something."

She gave a blissful sigh and let her eyes slip closed. "Shh, just let me enjoy this."

A chuckle came from beside her. "I think you're enjoying it a little too much."

They finished their food, Marinette practically licking her bowl clean, before settling on their backs in the grass, basking in the light of the sun high above them. They watched the puffy white clouds slowly roll by, pointing and trying to recognize shapes before they morphed into another. Chat insisted almost every cloud looked like a cat, and he almost gaslit her into believing him at first. She was far more creative with her ideas, spotting the outlines of scenes with many components. She saw a man on a horse, a book with a quiver and ink, and even a castle equipped with towers and small empty spaces for windows.

After a while, their aimless chatter died down, and they both laid there, simply enjoying each other's company and the warm light burning pleasantly on their skin.

As Marinette stared up at the brilliant blues and whites and yellows in the sky, a light breeze tickling her hair, she felt so… peaceful. That wasn't a feeling she was familiar with, not anymore. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt this way. If she had to guess, it was probably while doing something so similar to this, but in the apple orchard, alongside a different blonde boy she had known.

She turned her head to the side to look at the man beside her. His hands pillowed his head, eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell in a slow, shallow rhythm. Her gaze softened as she watched him, realizing he had fallen asleep. She found herself turning to lay on her side, her arm folded beneath her head as she allowed herself to truly take him in.

His hair was as wild as ever, and she noted how it had grown a bit since she first met him. It now fell past his ears, his bangs hanging more in his eyes every day. It suited him, though, complementing his playful personality. Her eyes traveled down to the veil over his eyes, underneath it a smear of black paint covering his skin. Some of it had faded from his lower eyelids, and a smile grew onto her face as she thought of him back in his tent earlier this morning, wiping tears away as he tried to contain his laughter. Continuing down the straight bridge of his nose, she reached his lips, slightly parted as he breathed softly.

She froze when his mouth suddenly closed, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He rolled onto his side, and her eyes blew wide as the movement caused his face to come directly in front of hers. He didn't seem to notice, though, his breaths falling back into their rhythm and eyes remaining firmly shut.

A blush rose to her cheeks, and for a brief moment she considered scooching away, but then she realized: he's sleeping. Peacefully. He looked so calm, so at ease, no sign of scrunched eyebrows or grimaces from nightmares. She allowed her body to relax again, feeling like she might regret it if she pulled away now. Technically, he had been the one to move closer to her, so it wasn't on her to keep the distance.

Marinette snuggled deeper into her arm, resting her hand on the narrow space of grass separating them. She allowed herself a few more moments to look at his face, now close enough that she could see the hint of a freckle here and there on his skin, before her eyes began to feel heavy. The nightmare that had woken her up this morning felt like ages ago. It was distant, no longer a distress to her as her mind was filled with the memories of the last few hours with Chat. She let her eyes slip closed, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to her.

Minutes later, her breathing evened out as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, not feeling the gloved hand that had laid unconsciously on top of hers.

The next chapter is called "Falling"