genevrier | 💀 pour oublier ma peine immense

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💀 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.

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She didn't feel it, no. But even half a smile from him made things worlds better, and although she was no less anxious, she managed to smile back.

It was progress. He was recovering remarkably quickly, wasn't he?

"Moment of truth." She shifted her hands to offer a more stable support for when he actually stood and put his weight on his feet instead of sitting on the edge of his bed. "Let's get you back on your feet."

Adrien shimmied forward, feet on the floor, and looked up at her face.

It was reflex. He said it unthinkingly, with a devil-may-care smile that showed his teeth, ready to take on the world.

"Don't worry. Cats always land on their feet."

Adrien stood up.

... and was immediately taken by vertigo. His cheeks went pale, his eyes rolled back in his head, and the pain washed over him. It caught him and dragged him violently under. He lost his footing and most of his consciousness.

And then he fell.

She didn't even have enough time for the joke and the smile to register on her - he got to his feet and his knees buckled, and she let out a sharp gasp.

"Adrien!"

Her reflexes were good, at least. She caught him, hooking her arms under his armpits and bracing herself to keep him standing upright, and then eased him back onto his bed with as much care as one might afford a newborn. Her cheeks had paled for a different reason. She might not have been injured, but she was sick - sick with worry that by not stopping him from trying, she'd allowed him to get worse.

Her hands fluttered over him anxiously, tucking him back in and smoothing his bangs away from his eyes.

Adrien came back gradually, blinking himself back awake from the pull of vertigo. His heart had raced, and it left his hands cold and trembling, his breathing shivery. Marinette's hands and voice were grounding, and he came to with a slight frown of confusion, like he couldn't figure out how he'd gotten there.

"... that went much better when I imagined it," he groaned, and shut his eyes.

He was trying to laugh it off, but the dismay settled visibly into the corners of his mouth.

"Those things usually do," Marinette said gently, running a hand through his hair gently before pulling her hand away. At least he was in and settled. "You've been lying down for a long time, though. That's normal. Umm..."

They'd managed to get him sitting up before; maybe they could do so again, after he'd had some time to adjust.

"I'll go get you some water so you can at least have that drink, if you want?"

Adrien leaned into her hand without thinking, tilting and closing his eyes. It hurt, but it felt as natural as breathing. Only when she pulled back did it occur to him that that was a very... intimate touch.

We went to school together, she'd said.

"... yeah."

Don't blush. Don't blush.

"I'll be right back."

She smiled, and she hoped it was reassuring. Leaving his bedside wasn't really something she wanted to do, but it was for a good cause. She slipped out of his room to head for the kitchen in search of a cup and a straw so it would be easier for him to drink without spilling everything.

How hard could it be to find the kitchen in a house like this?

...well, hopefully he'd still be awake when she returned.

Adrien tried to nod, but he hurt too badly to do so. Instead he smiled and sank back down into the pillows as Marinette left, feeling ridiculous. He was literally bedridden, could feel that he hadn't had a proper shower in ages, and he'd recently had some part of his head blown off.

He must have closed his eyes, because when he opened them again, blearily, a small lavender something was on his blankets. It had wings that drifted open and shut, and Adrien stared blurrily at it for a few moments, afraid to focus or blink, or even acknowledge it.

Were hallucinations part of the head injury?

Thankfully, Marinette returned, and the small distraction quickly disappeared. Adrien blinked several times.

"Is there a window open?" he asked softly.

Bedridden, unshowered, and sporting a hole in his head - and yet he was still unbearably attractive. It really wasn't fair.

Marinette returned holding a cup of water with a straw in it and came to Adrien's bedside again, setting it down just long enough to look him over with a little bit of concern when he asked his question. Well... at least he was still conscious. That was something.

"No," She answered. "Do you want me to open one for you once we get you sitting up again?"

"Mmmh? No, I've just..."

Adrien paused, frowning at the blankets. Had he been feeling better he might have realized how crazy this sounded, but for now, he was rolling with what he had.

"... thought I saw a butterfly."

He sounded vaguely confused, and very tired. Still, he attempted to pull on a smile for her and was mostly successful.

"Thanks, Marinette."

"A butterfly?" Marinette repeated. She was confused at first, but then she got it a moment later - the look of realization stole over her face as he frowned down at his blankets.

Nooroo.

It had to be Nooroo. There wasn't any reason for it to be anything else. Hawkmoth was gone, there weren't any more stray akuma to come fluttering in here. It could only have been the kwami, wanting to check that Adrien was okay. She made a small mental note to check up on Nooroo later and see what his thoughts on Adrien's recovery were.

"Huh? Oh, you're welcome..." He didn't need to thank her, but she knew better than to say so. Instead, she slid an arm around his shoulders. "Okay, let's get you sitting up a little... we'll take it slow. Let me know if you get dizzy."

"Yeah, a light purple one."

Adrien mumbled it, feeling a little stupid. It clearly wasn't here now. Was it some kind of impression of memory? It felt so familiar...

He settled as she reached out for him, bracing himself as best he could, accepting her help this time. They went slowly, and while he felt a little less than perfect, it wasn't anywhere near what had happened when he tried to get up.

Adrien figured that if he had the presence of mind to worry about how bad his breath was, he was probably fine.

"You think my hand-eye coordination is good enough for a toothbrush?" he asked, only partly joking.

Yep. Definitely Nooroo.

...and thank goodness, he had an easier time sitting up than he's had trying to stand. That was wonderful. Marinette had been worried that moving him so soon might not have been a good idea.

Had Nooroo used his powers to help him? She hoped so.

"It's a distinct possibility," She said with a small smile as she slid him the cup of water. "I'll go grab one, and if it looks like you might stab your eye out with it, I'll take it from you. Sound good?"

"Let's consider the water a dry run," Adrien answered, smiling before he knew it.

A not-so-dry run, Chat might have said, If this goes badly.

It was hard to say whether he was still hiding his identity, or he didn't actually remember. His quick wit had been slowed by his hurts, but some things were reflex.

Initially he missed his mouth with the straw, but he at least got it in the vicinity of his lower face. After a moment he managed to catch it with his lips, staring down at his bedspread. He was too thirsty to be flustered.

"Remind me to never get shot again," he murmured, when he finally took a breath. It almost sounded like a joke, but it was a bit more gallows-humor than he normally went for.

...that joke was downright macabre.

Marinette could practically feel her face falling, and so she ducked her head to try and keep him from seeing. Hopefully the water was a distraction. She didn't want him to feel badly about it - that he was making jokes about it at all was a good thing, wasn't it...?

But she couldn't get the image of his eyes losing their light out of her mind. Couldn't get Hawkmoth's voice out of her mind...

"Bien joué."

She flinched.

Never get shot again was the one thing she would not allow Adrien to forget, under any circumstances.

"Nobody with a gun is going to get anywhere near you," She said softly. "Not ever again."

Had Adrien had more of his wits about him, had he been entirely there, he might have mistrusted his instincts. But when Marinette's smile fell away, he almost felt her flinch, and he knew that he'd tripped over something huge.

Adrien reached out, fingertips brushing her cheek. They were cool from the cup, but steady. Remarkably steady.

Not for the first time, he felt a comfort, a kinship, a connection with her, this virtual stranger who had been there when he woke up. She'd been alone at his bedside, no one here to comfort her.

"... I'm sorry." He pressed his lips together, then cupped her cheek. "It must have been awful. I shouldn't have said that."

Edited 2016-05-01 01:20 (UTC)

When she felt his fingertips brush against her cheek, she looked up, her eyes wide. She hadn't... expected that, but maybe she should have. Her partner was still her partner, no matter what he did or didn't remember. Slowly, some of the tension went out of her shoulders, and she brought up a hand to rest over his.

When Marinette spoke, her voice was a whisper.

"You don't need to apologize to me."

I should be the one apologizing to you, She thought, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Not yet, not when the explanation wouldn't make any sense to him at all.

Adrien had no idea what she meant by that, but the look in her eyes promised it couldn't be anything good. He ran his thumb over her cheek, tried not imagine what it must have been like.

Just thinking about it made his head hurt, his chest ache with some kind of distant pain he couldn't remember, but still felt the echoes of. It felt like he'd awakened from a dream, unable to attach emotion to reality.

He had no idea what had happened, but he couldn't believe for a moment that it was her fault.

"If even my father doesn't blame you," he finally said, "I don't think you have grounds to blame yourself."

Marinette really wasn't sure about that.

Ladybug was supposed to be the one with a plan, and she'd had one; the plan had just gone pear-shaped and managed to get Adrien shot. She was pretty sure the only reason Gabriel wasn't actively blaming her was because it was easier for him to blame Plagg and Tikki.

But she didn't want to disagree with Adrien, either. Not now.

"...maybe you're right," She conceded. "But it doesn't really feel that way, sometimes."

It might be easier to accept once he was able to sit up without help.

"—but we're not here to talk about my problems. Is the water helping? Do you need more?"

Adrien was far from knowing everything, and there were certain things he'd never get back, parts of his memory that would be obliterated forever and always. He would never remember the gun, or the immediate aftermath. Fighting Hawkmoth at all would be a blur.

But he knew her. At least... he felt he did.

He wished he were in a better place to argue the point, but he let it go when she changed the subject. He had no ground to stand on.

"Yeah, please." He tilted his head down.

"Okay," She whispered, and brought a hand up to brush some of his hair away from his eyes. "I'll be right back."

Marinette eased the cup out of his hands, backed away from his bedside, and turned on her heel to head for his bathroom. It was closer than the kitchen, and a little tap water wouldn't hurt him. Water was water.

When she returned, she took a seat next to him again and put the cup back into his hands. "You still good...?"

Marinette's small touches were quickly becoming his new normal, and he leaned into her hand with a half-smile.

As Marinette turned, Adrien reached back and fumbled a pillow or two up so he could lean against them. Nothing wrong with his arms, just shaky. Probably low blood sugar. Small wonder, if he hadn't eaten anything.

He looked around the room, taking in the supplies close at hand. The tubes, the syringes, the machines... all of it looked deactivated now, but he imagined it all hooked up to his body, what a horrifying sight it must have been.

His arms were still terribly bruised, taped up with bandages from lines run under his skin. He peeked beneath his pajama top, found the livid, fading bruises all over his chest. His forearms were covered in them, like someone had tried to beat him with a bat, and he'd done his best to protect himself.

All of a sudden, he was glad he didn't have a mirror.

"Still good." He half-smiled, carefully reached up for the glass, but he looked worried.

"Just confused. I feel like I was having a really... vivid dream but I can't remember what it was about."

"I did some reading, and that's pretty normal," She assured him, watching carefully as his hand came around the glass. "Well... as normal as anything can be after what you went through."

Marinette didn't want him to worry, and her policy when it came to him was honesty. She wished she could say he'd make a full recovery and remember everything as it happened, not as if it was a dream - but she couldn't. The best she could do was to reassure him that what he was going through was within the scope of the normal recovery from injuries like his.

"If you ever think it might help to just... talk things out, I'll listen," She offered. "Or if you have any questions about before, and you think getting answers might help you sort out the pieces... I'll be glad to answer them for you."

Adrien listened, and all he could think about was that black and white movie about the tornado, a girl with ruby slippers and a little dog, and he was so tired-

"It just that... I can remember things," he whispered, watching the window, the growing, pale morning light.

"I can remember things. Like movie references and... and how things made me feel. But I can't put it in any sort of context. I know you. I know you and I are..."

He paused, pushing against some invisible wall. It felt like navigating in the dark, missing turns.

"But I can't remember how we met, or what your last name is, but-" he shut his eyes, breathing in. "... you... make me feel... happy, when you're here."

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