genevrier | 💀 pour oublier ma peine immense

Entry tags:

💀 pour oublier ma peine immense

It had been a long and hard three years.

Ladybug had run out of fingers with which to count the sticky situations she and Chat Noir had been in because of Hawkmoth. But finally, finally, she and her partner had him dead to rights. As time went on, they had grown desperate, and they'd made mistakes - but nothing they hadn't been able to fix. He'd made mistakes, too, and that was how the two of them had managed to track him down.

Heart pounding, she cast her gaze down at the man that had been their adversary for so long. Hawkmoth stared back at the both of them with a dark glare full of loathing. There were a lot of things she had wanted to ask him when she finally caught up to him, but there was only one question she was actually able to form.

"How could you?" She whispered, her voice ragged. She was breathing heavily - the fight had taken a lot out of her. Out of her partner, and out of their enemy, too; had it gone on much longer, they all might have dropped dead out of exhaustion. "You hurt so many people."

Hawkmoth's eyes glittered, and he pressed his lips together into a thin line. Ladybug felt something roll down her cheek - sweat, she hoped, and not blood or tears, but she'd taken a hit to the temple earlier and she couldn't be certain that it wasn't bleeding (and in fact it was). But she was in better shape than him, at least. He was beaten down, he had lost.

All that remained was to take his Miraculous and make sure that Nooroo's power never, ever fell int the hands of someone like him ever again.

His refusal to answer stirred anger in her where there had once been pity.

"Men. Women. Children. You used them all - and for what? What on earth could have been worth it? I don't understand. Explain yourself, Hawkmoth."

He didn't answer. He looked between the two of them, seething. Ladybug scowled and knelt down in front of him, curled her fingers around his brooch, and yanked it away from his suit.

The magic holding his transformation together fell apart, and Nooroo emerged from the butterfly Miraculous at long last. Ladybug cradled him in the crook of her arm and watched as the facial features of their nemesis became clear.

A well-dressed man, middle-aged. Nobody she recognized. Without his Miraculous, he should have been powerless. Defeated. Done for.

She didn't catch his smirk until it was too late.

His hand darted into the suit jacket that hadn't been there before, and his fingers closed around something she couldn't see. "I'll make you understand," He snarled, and the next thing she knew his hand emerged from the jacket and the crack of a gunshot split the air. "Perhaps now we'll share the same wish."

There was a gun in his hand, Ladybug realized, as a dull roar and the man's twisted, bitter laughter filled her ears. He hadn't aimed at her. She turned toward her partner with dread.

He had aimed at him, and his laughter was not the laughter of a man who had missed his mark.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Of course," Marinette replied softly. She didn't turn away from his gaze when he shifted to look at her, and there was a part of her - a big part - that willed him to know what she meant by of course.

I'm your partner.

I wouldn't leave you.

I love you.

But then doubt seized her - the same crippling self-doubt that had kept her from confessing to Adrien, that had kept her from revealing her identity to Chat Noir, for three years, and she bit her lip, dropping her gaze to her lap. "...is, is that okay? If it's weird for me to be here, I can..."

...go.

She didn't want to go, but Adrien's wants and needs were most important here.

Another twinge.

Instead of answering, he took her hand in both of his, as if he were worried that she might draw away from him, holding it a little bit tighter. He looked down at them, trying to ignore the pounding, throbbing feeling in his head, the pain radiating out from behind his eye.

He was only just starting to clue in. This was more than pain, more than confusion due to the injury. There were things here that weren't adding up, things he didn't know.

Originally, he'd thought she might have been someone he stepped in to help. A mugging victim, maybe... some chance encounter. But the look in her eyes told him otherwise.

"I don't want you to go," he whispered. He couldn't look her in the face when he said it.

"Then I won't."

She brought her other hand over the hand on top of hers and took a breath. What Adrien wanted, he was going to get. It was as simple as that. Now that Marinette knew he wanted her to stay, even if things turned out badly when it came time to ask Gabriel about Plagg, she wouldn't let the man throw her out.

...even if it was his own house and staying after he told her to leave would be trespassing. She'd sneak back in as Ladybug, if she had to. If it was for Adrien's benefit, it wouldn't be using her powers for a purely selfish reason.

"I'll stay with you for as long as you want me to. That's a promise."

... how was he going to tell her that he didn't remember her name?

The pain increased, throbbing in time with his heart, and he felt sick again. Adrien squeezed as he settled back down into the pillows, forcing himself to take a full breath and focus on her as best he could.

A coughing fit interrupted him, pain lanced through his chest again, and he was momentarily speechless with it. The color left his face, and he shut his eyes, breathing slowly.

"How bad am I hurt?" he asked.

If Marinette had a list of questions she didn't want to answer, "How bad am I hurt?" was definitely among the top three. She bit her lip and took a breath in an attempt to keep herself steady as she thought over his injuries.

The memory of how pale and lifeless he'd been, on the ground in a pool of his own blood, came to mind unbidden, and she visibly winced.

"Bad," She managed after a moment. "You... we weren't sure if you were going to make it. We're all so glad that you did."

Adrien squeezed her hand in response to the wince, listening carefully. He knew his ribs and head were a mess. Bruises, broken bones, but it felt like more.

Much more.

"... my head?" he asked, carefully this time. She didn't seem to want to talk about it, but he needed to know.

Her stomach churned as she tried to figure out how to answer him. There really wasn't any avoiding it, and he was going to have to get an answer sometime, but Marinette wished there was some easier way of breaking it to him.

There wasn't. In the end, she just had to come right out and say it.

"...you were shot."

It could have killed him. It probably should have killed him, and it was a miracle he was still alive; she wasn't sure how much of that Tikki and Nooroo had been responsible for. It was terrifying to think about.

... in the head.

Adrien's eyes widened. His stomach flipped over, and he felt a sick heat rise up in his gut, saliva pooling in his mouth. He left off her hand to reach up and feel the bandages, the itchy places. Putting any sort of pressure on it left him lightheaded.

"How-" he paused, wetting his lips. "How long was I out?"

Another hard question.

The answers seemed to be distressing to him, but refusing to answer... probably would just make it worse. He was strong. He could handle this, couldn't he? The sooner he knew about it, the sooner he could overcome it.

"...more than a week," She whispered. "But none of us gave up on you."

It was distressing, but he'd been through worse. Adrien could handle this, horrifying as it was. When it came down to it, he was alive, and so was everyone else... everything else could be improved upon.

More than a week.

A week of being asleep. A week of laying half-dead on this bed. He hadn't seen himself in a mirror, but from the look of mottled bruising on the skin disappearing under his pajamas, he must have been a wreck.

"You must have a lot of faith in me," he whispered, running his thumb over her knuckles.

Marinette's voice caught in her throat.

If things were different - if she hadn't witnessed the fact that he was having memory problems - she might have made a joke about the cat coming back the very next day. Chat Noir would have appreciated it.

...but if Adrien didn't remember he was Chaf Noir...

"You've given us every reason to," She whispered back, her eyes on their hands.

Even if he didn't remember, he was still her partner. She knew he would never willingly leave her all alone.

The emptiness felt like a dull ache in the back of his head, and he stared down at their joined hands, running his thumb back and forth. He would have to say it eventually. Best to do it now, before he was tempted to lie to her, to hurt her more.

"... I'm forgetting things," he whispered. "I know I am. I-"

He trailed off, made himself look up. "I should know your name."

...part of her had suspected it when he'd asked for his mother.

He hadn't met her until long after his mother was gone. He didn't remember being Chat Noir, and he'd become Chat around he same time he'd met her. There was no reason for him to be able to remember her name, and yet - she'd hoped.

She kept her gaze on their hands in an attempt to hide the hurt in her eyes.

"It's Marinette," She said quietly after a long moment. "We..."

She swallowed hard.

"...we went to school together."

... we went to school together.

"... I went to school," he repeated, watching her face. He could sense, even addled as she was, that they were things she was leaving out. But the sheer wonder of having gone to school was...

"Mom takes care of my school," he murmured, shaking his head.

She nodded as he repeated the words, but when he mentioned his mother again, she winced. No, no. Marinette had absolutely no idea how to approach that topic. Adrien's mother wasn't someone he'd spoken about to her often... it probably had a lot to do with how they were friendly but not close without the masks.

Not as close as she had dreamed about being all through school, anyway.

Her mouth felt dry, and she grappled for some explanation - any explanation - she could give him that wouldn't upset him too much. Finally, she hit on it.

"...do you remember Chloé?" She hoped that he did, because the girl was a part of his childhood; at the same time, a selfish part of her hoped that he didn't, because it would really sting if he remembered Chloé but not her. "She finally got you to come during our third year of collège."

It took several moments for Adrien to struggle through doing the math. Abstract thought was still so difficult, but he never let go of her hand.

"... a year, no-"

He mumbled, and the ache began to radiate out for behind his eye again. He was pushing himself and he knew it, but it was frustrating, terrifying, and only beginning to grow worse. He felt misplaced from reality when he considered what was happening, how his mind was betraying him.

He felt like something was missing. Something was stolen.

The room seemed too close, too warm.

...she'd hecked up.

Adrien's distress was written all over his face, and her stomach churned as she looked up from their hands and saw it. She should have been gentler about it, somehow; eased him into it.

Maybe Gabriel had been right. Maybe she should have played along until he was recovered.

"Adrien," She whispered, shifting her hadn to give his a light squeeze. "Shh. Don't push yourself."

It wasn't her fault. It was Hawkmoth's fault.

Adrien shook his head, pressed his lips together, holding it back as best he could, squeezing her hands, struggling to contain the rising panic. Trying to take deep breaths only made it worse because it hurt.

Breathe. Breathe.

He couldn't really get a full breath. His heart was racing, and he felt vaguely lightheaded.

Adrien.

His fingers twitched in hers, and slowly, he squeezed back, holding onto her voice, following her back like a lifeline.

"Keep talking?" he asked, shutting his eyes. "Anything. Doesn't matter."

"Alright," She mumbled, mentally grasping for something, anything, she could talk about at length. Telling him stories about school wouldn't work; the disconnect between what he remembered and what she had brought up had helped to trigger this.

Marinette shifted in her seat to allow her to hold onto his hand more easily, and her foot nudged her sketchbook, which was on the floor just next to her seat. It hit her in a flash.

Something simple, mundane, normal. She could do this.

"Your dad is sort of a slave driver," was what she started with, which in retrospect might not have been the best of starts. Oh, well. "Sometimes he comes in here and has me color in patterns with him. I'm not sure if he's actually going to use them or not. Probably not, because they're not very good. But you know - I gotta wonder. Do you think that's his way of charging me rent? He's probably not going to come right out and ask me for money but I have been staying under your roof so you know, billable hours and all..."

She was babbling, but if he just needed to hear a voice to keep him grounded, she'd keep at it.

It took a moment for it to sink in, but it brought him back, let him focus. His bright eyes found hers, and for a moment, he was all there, a growing smile as she spoke about his father.

"He's giving you things to color?" he asked, amusement settling in his voice.

"Probably, he never even let me do that with his patterns. You must be really talented."

"I dunno if I'd say talented," She said, trying to appear modest and failing miserably. She was talented, when she was on her game. It was just that, as of late, she couldn't be more off it. "I think he just knows a good deal when he sees it. Letting me crash in a chair next to your bed is a small price to pay for getting some of his work done."

She tilted her head to one side and studied him. Good - he seemed a little more focused.

"...he can be a little scary sometimes and a little distant, but he means well. He's been here every night to see you."

Modest or not, she was making him smile. It hurt a little, but it was the most human he'd felt since waking up, and just for a little bit, he could forget the pain, forget the hole in his head.

Her voice was familiar, and he hung on her every word as if he could read a cipher of their past in the syllables.

"Scary is what his interns usually say," Adrien chuckled. "But it doesn't sound like you're all that intimidated by him."

Which was no small feat.

"I'm not," Marinette replied with a shrug.

Yes - she was a little afraid he might decide that, being Ladybug, she posed a danger to Adrien, and she was a little afraid he might come to the conclusion that she needed to leave, but...

The man had saved her life. She wasn't actually intimidated by him.

(Which was a feat, considering he was her fashion idol and all.)

"I'm intimidated by him."

Adrien admitted it freely, no apologetic smile. His dad could be really hard to stand up to, and when push came to shove, he usually would give in if his father gave him a direct order.

"So- a secret. He kind of likes it when people stand up to him."

People that weren't Adrien, of course.

She thought about it and came to the conclusion that he was right.

"He's probably used to people doing whatever he says just because he's the one who says it," Marinette replied after a moment. "It must be refreshing when people tell him no."

Refreshing and probably a little aggravating, but Gabriel Agreste was someone who didn't get where he was by just following orders. She imagined he probably enjoyed seeing the same kind of spark that had driven him to where he was, when he saw it in others.

If there was ever a time when Adrien could get away with standing up to Gabriel, it was most likely now. That was a little bit of a morbid thought, so she kept it to herself.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject