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The edges of reality are starting to blur, but Adrien’s stopped whimpering, stopped trembling. He’s just limp against the cold tiles. It doesn’t make a difference if he closes or opens his eyes. Either way, all he can see are blinding white prison walls, and trembling white gloves, and white, white ashes raining down from a pale white sky.
He hears the door crack open slowly, the sound deafening and harsh after so long alone. He can’t even find the energy to flinch, though. His father will be upset about his laziness, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels too untethered from reality.
Then, there’s a horrified gasp, and a strangled, pained, “Adrien?!” and he’s sitting up immediately, ignoring the way spots dance in his eyes and numb, tingly fatigue rolls down his spine, because that’s Ladybug’s voice.
She slams into him, knocking the air out of his lungs, and then her hands are all over him, feeling for a pulse, staring at his face, like she’s doing some kind of medical check up. And oh— oh , her eyes are neon green with little black freckles, and she’s got red and gold cat ears, and she’s wearing his Miraculous, she’s wearing both of theirs, and he can’t even process what that means because he’s too busy being tugged to his feet so she can dust off his shoulders, make sure he can stand alright.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she murmurs, and it sounds like she’s reassuring herself of something more than she’s talking to him. “He didn’t hurt you. He didn’t trade… of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t. I would have killed —”
She cuts off most of the way through the word, makes a noise that starts as a growl and ends as a whimper, and then tugs him into a tighter hug. Her claws—she has claws in this form, apparently—are digging into his neck and back, but he can’t bring himself to mind, not when he’s finally not alone. Not when it’s her, her, her .
She finally pulls away, her hands gently holding his, as her ears twitch nervously. It’s so sweet, he feels the corner of his lips twitching into an involuntary smile.
“How—how are you feeling?” she asks.
And then, because the universe hates him apparently, the terror-guilt-helplessness is washing over him again. It’s blinding blinding white, and the room is swaying, and she’s shouting, and his head is pounding, and it’s too too much.
He wakes up a moment later, being cradled in her arms, as she mutters to herself.
“I’m so sorry, I forgot… such an idiot...”
Her eyes gleam in that bright bright green, so captivating, he can’t look away.
She stretches out her hand into the empty air beside her, bites her tongue in concentration, and his ears pop as electricity hums through the air, covering his body in goosebumps.
“Here,” she says, pressing a black metal orb into his hand.
It almost burns his palm, it’s so full of buzzing hot energy. He has a delayed reaction, but when he finally glances down at her black and red gloves, he sees a pendant that’s almost like one of her anti-akuma charms, except heavier, and engraved with a faint, glowing yin-yang symbol instead of the normal ladybug pattern.
“This’ll keep the nightmares away, until I get a better solution,” she explains, clearly trying to keep her voice steady. She’s not doing the best job of it, but a part of him admires how much effort she’s putting into the brave act. “Or until I destransform. Um. I didn’t design it to be permanent. So it’s probably fine. Or like, someone else can have nightmares, I don’t care, you don’t deserve—!”
She cuts off with a frustrated groan.
“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”
He tries to reach for her hand, but she brushes him away, not meeting his eyes, swallowing loudly.
“Don’t worry, this is on me. It’s my own problem. I’m—I’m just being a little selfish, right now.” Her voice cracks hard, and it feels like his own heart is fracturing too. “This—it’s not for you to worry about. Don’t worry. You—you’re going to be okay. I promised .”
He’s starting to worry for real, now. The numbness and surrealness of her appearance is starting to fade away, and he can see how scared she is, which isn’t good.
“Where’s Chat Noir?” he blurts out.
Ladybug flinches like he’s slapped her across the face, and her tail cracks like a whip behind her. Then, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath.
“He’s alright,” she says, with clearly forced calmness. “He fought really well today. He did all he could. He was—sorry, he is really brave, and kind, and dependable.” She laughs hollowly, rubbing at her arm. “I don’t know why I was talking about him in the past tense, it’s not like he’s—“
And then she flinches again, won’t meet his eyes, but he can see how fast her chest is moving, can tell she’s absolutely terrified right now, and he doesn’t understand why . Doesn’t know what she’s just been through. He fought an akuma without her a few days ago, and was left with the horrible nightmares clawing at him. He hopes that, whatever akuma she just faced, she fared better on her own than he did. But that’s getting harder to believe by the second.
“Do you need to talk to him?” Adrien asks.
Somehow, that’s the thing that gets her to stop hyperventilating. She snorts, rubbing at her eyes. She meets his gaze for a second, and then she’s laughing hard , shaking, and he doesn’t know what’s happening, doesn’t know why . He smiles nervously.
“That’s such a sweet thought,” she says, finally, when her laughing subsides enough to let her breathe. “But he can’t help me with this. Not this time.”
She smiles at him, and it’s almost playful, except her eyes are sparkling with moisture, and her face is a little bit red, and there’s something in the way she’s holding her shoulders that looks so unbearably sad.
“Are you mad at him?” Adrien asks, because he’s stupid and can’t control his mouth.
She gasps, and shakes her head frantically.
“Of course not! Why would you say that? We— we’re a team. And we always, always support each other. And—”
She gulps, and he pulls her into a hug, because there’s guilt and fear and frustration bubbling up in his chest and he doesn’t know what else he can do about it.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “You’re so good. I don’t deserve you.” And heck if that doesn’t make the mess of emotions in his chest swell painfully.
“Yes, you do,” he says.
“No, you don’t understand—”
He shushes her, because—he doesn’t even know what’s got her so panicked—but he knows he needs to help.
“You deserve to be loved and supported,” he insists. “You’re the best person I know. You keep this entire city safe—” she whimpers at that, but he doesn’t stop. “You deserve to have all of Paris helping you out whenever you need it. And I want to help. Just, tell me what you need? Please?”
She’s shaking, actually shaking, and it’s hurting his heart so badly. He’s forgetting where the line between Adrien and Chat Noir is, but it’s not like he can duck away and come back as her partner when she’s still wearing his ring. At least he knows he made the right choice sending Plagg away instead of hoarding the ring in his cell of a room, because clearly Ladybug had needed it.
“Do you know how to hold a press conference?” Ladybug asks, so quietly he’s not sure if she wants him to hear. “Or—or like—I don’t know. Do you know how to make a public appearance to announce something major? In—in front of—you know—everyone?”
“Um… yes?”
He definitely has experience there, both as Adrien and as Chat. But so does she . He’s seen her address all of Paris in interviews and news stories, seen her take the lead as the face of the team, seen her stand outside in a storm and face the crowds. He can’t think of any reason she’d need anyone’s help on that front. Let alone his .
She seems to read the confusion on his face, because she swears and starts frantically apologizing.
“No no no,” Adrien interrupts her before she can insult herself more. “It’s fine! I can help! You don’t have to apologize.”
She moves to shake her head, but catches herself halfway through the motion.
“Okay,” she says. “Okay. Yeah. You. You should be a part of this. I just. I can be brave.”
Adrien squeezes her hand.
“You’re always brave,” he says, and she lets out an actual sob in response.
The room is quiet again for a moment. Uncomfortably so. He yearns to ask her for more, desperately needs answers, but he can tell that she’s working up the courage to say something, and doesn’t dare interrupt.
“Monarch is dead,” she blurts out.
He freezes. The world stands still.
“What?” he asks, sure he’s misheard.
She doesn’t respond, just looks at him sadly, and he feels the weight of her words trickle into reality.
She didn’t—not without him —what—what happened ? Maybe laying on the floor in this cell for so long has had lasting effects on his health, actually, because he can’t breathe , can’t feel his limbs.
“Chat wasn’t there,” he says without meaning to.
“Yes he was!” Ladybug snaps, startling him out of the spiral. “Don’t jump to conclusions. You don’t know anything about us.” Her gaze is burning. “We had a plan , because we’re partners , and we trust each other, and—and you don’t need to know it because it’s none of your business , but—but of course I wasn’t alone.”
“Sorry,” Adrien mumbles. He’s not sure if he’s apologizing as Adrien or as Chat. He’s not sure if it matters.
“Me too,” Ladybug says, voice softer, but still with the same trembling, emotional edge. “I shouldn’t have exploded on you like that. I’ve… I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of today… and… and you don’t need…” She hugs her arms tight around herself, looking so small and scared he could sob.
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks suddenly. “It’s kind of stuffy and weird, isn’t it? Do you want to like, get some coffee, or something? Do you have any places you feel calm and comfortable in?”
“Huh?” Adrien can’t even formulate a response, he’s too busy reeling from the tonal whiplash.
“No, you’re right,” she says, gritting her teeth. “There’s too many people outside. I have to stop being a coward and just… get a plan together… talk to the news or whatever so they know what… what I did, I…”
He reaches for her and she shrinks away. He lets her have the space. Tries to control his own heart rate and not panic at the distance she’s putting between them..
After a long moment, she extracts herself from her own arms, sits up tall, and meets his eyes with forced determination, even though she’s now seated several feet away from him.
“Your father is dead,” she says, firmly.
Later, he’ll feel horrible for it, but his first thought is “thank goodness,” because he’s spent years with everyone dancing around his mother’s death, and at least this time it’s Ladybug, and she’s not mincing words or trying to make him play stupid mind games.
She must see his sigh of relief, because her eyebrows raise, and she tilts her head a little.
“Did you—do you want—I mean—ugh,” she tugs at her hair. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Adrien says.
Because he’s been through this before. He knows that the numbness and shock will last a while, which is kind of a blessing, since he still has to talk to Ladybug. He knows it’ll hurt later. That it’ll consume him and burn and ache, maybe as badly as the nightmares had. And he knows, with time, he’ll learn to be okay. And—as much as he’s a terrible person for thinking it—losing his father isn’t nearly as deep of a cut as losing his mom.
He also knows that Ladybug doesn’t know this, hasn’t learned it gets better yet.
“Don’t worry, I’ve done this before,” he says, with a half smile.
Ladybug winces, then shuffles closer to him.
“Adrien,” she says his name so tenderly, he shudders. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay. You can be mad, or scared, or—whatever you need to be.”
“Thanks,” he says, trying to be lighthearted, but his voice cracks and—oh, oh, Ladybug’s shaky hug is so tight and raw, it might be the thing that breaks his armor down.
“He was a hero,” Ladybug says, suddenly. “He—” she’s shaking much harder than he is, and he realizes there are tears streaming down her face.
The need to cry vanishes, because she needs him, and that’s more important than anything. Because his Ladybug is coughing and sniffling and half-choking on her own mucus, and Chat never came, but somehow she found him anyway, trusted him with this moment, and that counts for everything.
“Breathe, Ladybug, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he says.
She’s fighting with herself, gagging for a second when she coughs too hard.
“You’re going to make yourself throw up if you don’t breathe,” he says, not sure if she’s listening.
“He loved you,” she says, frantic. “He—he loved you. And he—he fought for you. He—he’s the one who ended Monarch’s reign because I couldn’t —And—and I couldn’t save him and I should have been better but I couldn’t and he’s gone and—”
“I know,” Adrien says. “I know. It’s gonna hurt for a while. But I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?”
“Y—yeah,” she says. “Yes. Okay. God, I’m being so selfish.”
He shushes her again, readjusting the hug.
“It’s okay to have emotions. It’s okay to feel.” Especially now that Monarch isn’t here to take advantage of any chink in her armor. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She whimpers, but eventually she lets her weight fall against him, and her breathing steadies. He almost thinks she’s fallen asleep, until she groans in annoyance.
“I still have to do an—addressing the public—or like—murder confession—or whatever.” She says into his shoulder.
“Do you still want help with that?” Adrien says. “Because I can do the talking for you, if you want.”
She lets out another sob.
“I can’t—I can’t send you out there alone. I have to take responsibility—I—I did this—and—“
“What if we did it together?” Adrien asks. “Would that make you feel better?”
She swallows, glances away, eyes guilty.
“Maybe.”
“Then we’ll do it together,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready. We’ll get through this, I promise.”
She tackles him into another hug, sniffling, and then he’s holding onto her, grounding himself with her soft presence, and cinnamon-sugar smell, and they don’t talk any more for a while.