17. You Don't Know Me(1)

Adrien’s breath stilled, his unblinking gaze locked on her drowsy, half-lidded eyes. Her pink lips were slightly parted with her slow breathing, her now longer hair disheveled and falling around her flushed cheeks.

A thought came unbidden to his mind, a memory locked in a dream:

When I wake, I want you to be the first face I see...

“M-Marinette?” Adrien said, choking on his breath, absently realizing the pressure around his fingers had been Marinette’s hand firmly clasping his own.

She was looking at him, right? She seemed out of it, blinking lazily at him, chest rising and falling slowly. She shifted her head, squinting at his shape in the dark.

“Hey, Marinette…” Adrien tried again, the corners of his lips twitching into a shaky smile as his eyes quickly became glassy with relief. He rubbed her fingers with his thumb, noting the sudden warmness in them. “Welcome back...”

She sighed softly in response, eyes blinking as she tried to shake the sleep off them. She looked like she was struggling to see, and Adrien quickly released her hand to move to turn on the lamp on her bedside table.

As the meager light shone on her face, she squinted at the sudden intrusion. As the world around her seemed to clear, Adrien watched her reaction with bated breath, silently giving her time to assimilate her situation.

At first she simply looked around her, trying to take in the details of the room.

Her face scrunched up in an expression of deep thought, brows furrowing as her breathing became shallower, faster. She shifted on the bed, fingers fisting over the covers, eyes fleeting as she looked at all the strange monitors connected to her.

Then, when her glassy eyes met his again, Adrien saw an emotion he couldn’t quite describe in them. With growing unease, he realized they were not full of love or happiness like he had expected. No, there was something else in them, something different and unsettling...

And it was when she tried to move her bound hands - eyes growing wide as she looked down to realize what was stopping her - that Adrien finally placed what it was…

Fear .

It happened so fast.

Her eyes widened in terror, and she tugged at her bonds aggressively, her shoulders tightening as she desperately tried to pull away between desperate whimpers.

“Shhh, Marinette it’s okay !” Adrien hushed, trying to grab her thrashing arm. “You’re okay! It’s fine !”

She ignored him, her eyes squeezing shut as she struggled in between noises of protest. She jerked, arching her back against the bed and her eyes suddenly popped open, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she tensed with what looked like pain.

She plopped back down and moaned pitifully, tears beginning to build up in the corner of her eyes.

“No, no, it’s okay Marinette, it’s okay!” Adrien tried to soothe, his heart tightening at the sight of her tears.

Seeking to placate her, Adrien quickly moved to free the arm closest to him, undoing the strap that held her down. But as soon as her hand was free, Adrien watched in horror as Marinette jerked aggressively again, moisture leaking from her eyes as she grabbed every tube and wire she could get her fingers around and ripped them right off her skin.

Alarms started ringing and Adrien panicked, trying to hold on to her wrist before she hurt herself further. “Marinette, stop ! Don’t do that!”

Madame Cheng awoke with a start at the commotion, knocking a squeaking Plagg off her.  She looked around her in confusion, freezing when she caught sight of Adrien struggling with a very awake, very upset Marinette.

“Madame Cheng!” Adrien yelled as their eyes connected, trying to hold on to Marinette’s flailing arm. “ Help! ”

Whatever relief or joy Madame Cheng could’ve felt at seeing Marinette had woken up from her months’ long coma had to be pushed to the back at her mind as she jumped off the couch to hold her struggling daughter, locking her arms at her sides to avoid her hurting herself.

“ Shhh! Marinette, sweetheart, I’m here!” Madame Cheng said, holding Marinette’s flailing arm against her side in an embrace as her other hand came up to caress her head gingerly. “I’m here. It’s okay Marinette. Shhh...It’s okay, it’s okay...”

At the sound of her mother’s voice and her warm touch on her head, Marinette seemed to pause, her thrashing easing to a trembling stop, moans lowering into sobs.

“There there… I’m here love, I’m here…” Madame Cheng whispered soothingly, kissing the top of Marinette’s head repeatedly as her eyes became glassy with relief. She held her to her chest, rocking her slightly as one of her hands lowered to press the button on the bed’s railing to call a nurse, “You’re safe, you’re okay… ”

Marinette remained with her eyes shut tightly, her face constricted in an expression of deep pain as she sobbed inconsolably against Sabine’s chest, a trembling hand going up to clutch at her mother’s tunic.

Madame Cheng looked at Adrien sympathetically, her eyes filled with as much doubt as his. Adrien found he had nothing to say. All he could think about was the image now burned into his mind;  Marinette’s expression of utter fear at seeing him.

It had been hours since Marinette had woken up and Adrien was wheeled back to his room to wait in numb silence. Hours since she had looked at him with nothing but terror in her eyes, struggling wildly to get away. Hours since she had been sedated, strapped back to the bed, and taken away to be subjected to a number of tests and scans to assess her condition...

Hours since he had been fighting the growing feeling of terrible dread in his chest.

And all through that time, all that was in his head was… what went wrong?

What had happened to her? It had been so unsettling to see Marinette - Ladybug - in such crazed distress, and him, hopeless to help her. Hopeless to soothe her. Instead, the sight of him had caused her more woe, sending her on a frenzy...

Plagg had sat silently beside him, eating Camembert without a word. He would occasionally look up at Adrien to see how he was doing, but Adrien was numb, expressionless, vacantly staring at the ceiling.

After a few moments, Plagg felt leaving Adrien to his own mind would do him more harm than good, so, after gobbling his last piece of Camembert, he floated up to sit on his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up.”

“What happened, Plagg?” Adrien croaked after a moment, eyes still scanning the plaster in the ceiling as if it held the answer to his query.

“She freaked out.” Plagg said with a shrug, “So?”

“What do you mean so ?” Adrien raised an eyebrow at him “She was terrified, Plagg! I’ve never seen her that scared...”

“Kid, she’s been sleeping for months. She most likely thought she was having a nightmare or somethin’. You know how you sometimes see shapes in the dark and your mind makes you think they’re monsters? Something like that,” Plagg said matter-of-factly. “You’re overthinking it. It doesn’t have to be about you.”

Despite the logic in the Plagg’s explanation, Adrien was not assuaged and he sighed.

There was suddenly a knock on the door and Adrien quickly ushered Plagg into a hiding place under his blanket. The door opened slightly, revealing Doctor Longuevie peeking through the gap.  

“May I come in?” he asked. Adrien nodded wordlessly.

Dr. Longuevie walked in, silently closing the door behind him and walking to Adrien’s bedside. He took a seat on the edge of his bed and looked at him sympathetically.

“How are you doing?”

How was he doing?

The girl he loved above all else - the girl he had endured torturous battles for; for whom he had nearly died for, whose absence had plagued his nightmares and had sunk him into solitude - had finally woken up after months of silence… and her reaction towards him had been one of utter terror.  

There was no warmth or yearning in her eyes.

But why… why did she fear him so much?  Why had she reacted that way? Hadn’t both Tikki and Alya confirmed that Marinette loved Adrien? Hadn’t they both confirmed that she was head over heels for him?

Then what went wrong ?

Unable to externalize these questions though, Adrien just looked at the doctor then lowered his eyes dejectedly.

“I see…” Dr. Longuevie said knowingly, immediately picking up on Adrien’s mood. “I understand that what happened this morning may have been unsettling for you, but I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. ”

“How is she?” Adrien asked softly, looking at his doctor. He recalled that she looked like she was in pain, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. He feared she had hurt herself seriously in her thrashing.

“She upset her hip in her struggling, but it’s under control. She’ll be okay,” Dr. Longuevie reassured him with a calming smile. “She’s stable and we gave her a tranquilizer. She’s resting right now…”

“I’m glad…” Adrien said. He was genuinely happy that she was okay after all, but his heart still ached.

“I’m frankly surprised you aren’t asking me if you can see her...” Dr. Longuevie commented.

Adrien looked down, rubbing his arm sheepishly.

“I don’t think she wants to see me.”

“Is this because of how she reacted when she woke?”

Adrien nodded silently.

“Adrien, that wasn’t about you…” Longuevie said. Adrien suddenly felt a poke on his leg that felt distinctly like a I told you so.

“But she was fine with her mom…” Adrien said, failing to hide a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“How would you react if you woke up in a strange, dark room, with no recollection of how you got there, tubes all over the place, and tied to a bed?” Longuevie posed. “I’d personally be very disturbed.”

“I thought I could calm her,” Adrien said. “But she wouldn’t listen to me. It was like she didn’t even recognize me.”

Longuevie paused momentarily, like a thought had just struck him. He hummed pensively, taking off his glasses and cleaning them idly on his robe. He looked uncomfortable, Adrien noticed,  avoiding Adrien’s gaze and paying too much attention to his glasses, which Adrien noticed were spotless.

“Adrien… I need to ask you something. When did you meet Marinette?”

“Like a year and a half ago, I think,” Adrien said.

Longuevie sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “I see...”

Adrien blinked. “Why?”

“...There’s something you should know about Marinette…”

DAY 1

Adrien inhaled.

Then exhaled.

He did it once more, two times, three… Trying to calm the jitters, but they remained deeply rooted to the pit of his stomach.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Adrien?” Longuevie asked him, standing behind Adrien’s wheelchair as they waited at the door to Marinette’s room.

Adrien’s hand tensed over the armrest, fingers curled and digging into the soft material, trying to assuage the mounting feeling of pressure within his chest.

“Positive,” Adrien said flatly, his face guarded.

Longuevie nodded and Adrien took a deep breath again. His conversation with Longuevie yesterday morning filtered into his head, echoing over and over again, his mind not quite wanting to wrap around it, wanting to find a loophole in it.

...We ran Marinette through some tests, to make sure there was no deep neurological damage… the memory echoed in his head as Longuevie slowly opened the door to Marinette’s room.

...At the moment, she has something called dysarthria, so she cannot speak, but she can understand you just fine, albeit a bit slowly. With therapy and good care, she should be able to speak again soon…

Adrien was wheeled quietly into the room. Marinette was resting on her side, her back to him, pillow stuck between her legs under the covers to soothe her hip. Madame Cheng sat at her bedside, her face tired as if she hadn’t slept a wink, hand idly stroking Marinette’s hair. As he was guided around the bed, Adrien closed his eyes momentarily, willing his dread and anxiety to subside.

...we asked Marinette several questions to see how her cognition and memory may have been affected by the blow to her head…

He was guided to rest beside her bed. She didn’t look at him, the side of her head sunk in the pillow, her eyes downcast, staring at nothing, sad, exhausted...

A small whiteboard lay in front of her on the bed, a black marker hanging loosely from her hand on top of it. Adrien could distinguish two words written on the board in all caps:  OUI. NON . Yes. No .

Adrien swallowed, and after a few moments of silence, Longuevie left his side and cleared his throat,  kneeling beside Marinette’s bed.

“Miss Marinette?” Longuevie said slowly in a soft, gentle voice, “I’m sorry. I know you’re tired, but there’s someone here that I want you to see. I need you to look up for a bit, please.”

Marinette heaved a heavy sigh, and raised her gaze towards Adrien. As their eyes connected, what he saw in her eyes was… nothing.  They were dull, vacant, melancholic. Adrien saw the distinct glistening of tears at the edge of her swollen eyes, like she had been crying, dark circles around them.

But despite how seeing Marinette cry made his heart clench, it wasn’t the tears that sent a cold feeling coursing through Adrien…

It was the emptiness in her eyes, the blatant disinterest in seeing him, like he was nothing more than a stranger in her midst. Nothing but someone that could go on his merry way and she would be none the wiser, ignorant to his feelings and thoughts...

...I’m afraid that Marinette may not be quite herself for a while, Adrien…

“Marinette, this boy right here, his name is Adrien Agreste…” The doctor began slowly and a shiver ran down Adrien’s back at the introduction.

It was so surreal, so… bizarre to be introduced, as if they were strangers. He could feel his heart thumping hard against his chest, reverberating in his ears, a cool sensation running up and down his back.He thought of everything. Absolutely everything... every adventure, every class, every… interaction…Could they truly be…?

“Remember the picture we showed you earlier? You and Adrien went to school at Francois Dupont. He was your classmate and sat in front of you in class…” Longuevie continued and the more he talked, the bigger the lump in Adrien’s throat grew and the tighter the knot in his stomach became.

“Do you remember him, Marinette?” Longuevie asked. “Do you remember Adrien?”

Time stood still, and Adrien held his breath.

...The reason she was scared of you….

Marinette looked at him for several moments, blinking slowly, taking in every detail of his person. Adrien remained stone still, voice stuck in his throat. He couldn’t even bring himself to smile at her. He was frozen.

...The reason she didn’t seem to recognize you…

They locked eyes for a time, and in his head, he begged her to see how much she meant to him, how much they had shared together, to look inside herself and find him...

. ..was because in her mind…

Marinette’s hand twitched, her hand hovering over the whiteboard, fingers trembling with the effort as she processed the question. The more she looked at him however, the more forlorn she seemed to become. Soon, the tears she had kept at bay spilled, trickling slowly down her cheeks, and she looked so remorseful it broke his heart in two…

Her hand moved toward one of the words, and Adrien felt his heart stop in his chest.

No .

...she never met you.

The moment her marker touched the damning word on the whiteboard, Marinette watched the face of the boy in front of her pale and fall instantly. It was so quick and poignant that it was as if his bright green eyes were wide open windows to his soul, and through them, she saw everything break into pieces within him.

She saw confusion, hopelessness, pain, and heartache flash through his eyes in quick succession… like his whole world had come crumbling down. His mouth opened and closed several times, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

His eyes turned glassy, but he chose to look down at his lap in an attempt to hide it, his mouth forming a straight line, although she could more than see the tension in his jaw.

She wanted to say sorry, but she couldn’t. The muscles in her jaw felt strange, foreign. She couldn’t articulate, she couldn’t form words. So she wept instead, unable to stop the tears from flowing.

From the moment she had woken, she found she could only cry. She couldn’t plead to her mother to help ease the pain she felt in her body, as if she was broken. She couldn’t plead to her father to hold her close and tell her things would be okay. She couldn’t plead to the boy in front of her to forgive her for causing him pain.

She just wanted to go back to sleep and pretend none of this was happening.

She thought that if she was lucky, this would all be a bad dream and she would wake up in her bed, late to school as she usually was, cramming breakfast in her mouth as she ran to class, and this would be but a nightmare she would forget by the end of the school day.

But no. She wasn’t that lucky, and everything was very painfully real.

A heavy silence fell between them. Her parents kept their gazes elsewhere, unable to look at either of them, while her doctor kept his on the boy - Adrien, was it? - looking sympathetically at him. From the heavy atmosphere in the room, it seemed to Marinette that she had forgotten someone that had been of great importance to her, so much that even her parents and doctor seemed to feel his sorrow.

And it was making her heart clench.

Who exactly had she forgotten?

Why had she forgotten?

What happened to her?

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, of neither of them doing anything to acknowledge each other, the doctor moved, kneeling beside the boy in front of her.

“Do you want to go back?” he asked him softly.

The boy didn’t move for a moment, then nodded hesitantly, still not looking up, his hand clenching on his lap and his shoulders stiff with concealed tension.

“Alright,” the doctor said.

He rose to his feet, thanked Marinette, and silently wheeled the boy out of her room.

And the only thing in her mind in that moment was her wishing she could remember why he was so important to her, so that she could stop feeling that terrible ache in her heart as if a part of her had been ripped out of her chest.

He felt like there was a hole inside him. A big, gaping hole that was aching to be filled, but throbbed with the desperation of knowing that it would not be. He suddenly felt so weak, so defeated, he didn’t see the point in pursuing a conversation with his doctor, or anyone for that matter.

He just wanted to be left alone.

But Longuevie lingered, not taking him immediately to his room, but wheeling him down the hospital corridors, through the gardens, and around the courtyard.

He was mostly silent, letting Adrien sort his thoughts, limiting himself to only telling him it was okay to let it out to ease his troubled heart after the revelation that Marinette, the girl he was in love with, didn’t even know who he was anymore.

It had felt worse than a punch in the gut.

So Adrien took his offer and let the silent tears flow. Tears of impotence, of sorrow, of helplessness. He curled in on himself and wept quietly, his hand fisting over the blanket on his useless legs or dabbing at his eyes in a poor attempt to appear composed as the cool air dried the moisture on his cheeks.

What had been the point of it all? What had he endured so much for? What was the point if she didn’t remember him anymore? If he was left in the same position as before: in pain and alone?

After letting him cry his fill, Longuevie wheeled Adrien back to his room.

“It’s called Retrograde Amnesia,” Longuevie explained once he had settled Adrien back onto his bed, while Adrien listened on numbly, head downcast. “That means that her memories before her accident have been compromised, and it’s very common in accidents like Marinette’s for this to happen. And judging by the content of her answers, it seems Marinette thinks she is back to being 12 years old and just beginning her first year of collège.”

“So... the last two years…” Adrien said, his voice raspy, not looking up.

“They’re essentially nonexistent. For her, none of that ever happened,” Longuevie confirmed and Adrien felt the rest of his heart break.

So to Marinette, she never became Ladybug, Chat Noir didn't exist, and Alya, Nino and Adrien… were strangers. No memory at all of their shared victories, their shared laughter, their friendship… Everything was gone. Everything was as if they’d never known each other… and it tore what was left of his heart to pieces.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Alya would take it.

“I know this is difficult Adrien, but I ask for your understanding,” Longuevie pleaded, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s a very trying time for Marinette. She has lost part of her identity and she has to come to terms with that on her own. It won’t be easy, especially with all the physical limitations she now has to face. She will be very sensitive for a while, and it’s in her best interest that we’re all patient with her and support her during this time.”

Adrien’s spirit plummeted further, momentarily feeling ashamed of his own selfishness, only worrying about what he had lost. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Marinette, to be completely fine one day and suddenly wake up to be crippled and with your mind a mess… He understood now why she looked so despondent when they saw each other.

“Will she ever get those memories back, though?”  Adrien asked, looking at his doctor.

Longuevie sighed, scratching the back of his head with a hand. “It depends on the patient. She may, or may not. It may be quick or it may be slow. It could take days or it could take years. We’ll have to see and do our best to jog her memory little by little, and slowly reacquaint her with all she lost. I will have to talk to your friends first before they see her.”

“Right…” Adrien said non-committally.

They both fell quiet, and Adrien saw Longuevie look at his hands, as if he was considering something. After a moment, he stood up from his bedside, and went to the door, and to Adrien’s surprise, instead of leaving like Adrien thought he would, he locked the door.

Adrien’s heart jumped in his chest at the motion, and he cocked his head in confusion.

“Dr. Longuevie?” Adrien questioned.

The doctor turned to look back at him, and his eyes were soft but unsure, as if he was considering telling Adrien something but was gauging if he should. After a moment, Longuevie walked back and took a seat on the chair beside Adrien’s bed. He looked him in the eye, his mustache twitching.

“I know it’s been a tough day,” he began quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. ”But there’s something else I need you to know, and that I've been meaning to tell you for days.”

“Why did you lock the door?” Adrien questioned him, suddenly wary.

“Because of what I’m about to tell you. I consider you’ll agree that we should keep it between us once I explain.”

“I really don't think I can handle any more news today, Dr. Longuevie…” Adrien said softly, looking at him ruefully. Whatever it was he wanted to tell him, if it was so important he needed to lock the door to avoid eavesdroppers, Adrien wasn’t sure he could take it. “I really just.. want to take a break from things for a bit.”

“I actually think you may find this to be positive news,” he said. “Or not, I honestly… can’t tell, it’s not a situation I commonly come across…”

“Positive?” Adrien asked, not really buying it.  

“Yes, but I think I want to begin by first saying that I’m sorry, Adrien…”

“Sorry? For what?” Adrien asked arching an eyebrow.

“If you hadn’t been in the room yesterday, you wouldn’t have had to face that reaction or any of this heartache,” Longuevie explained. “I should’ve had you taken to your room the moment I discovered you were gone, but I decided not to…”

Adrien’s interest peaked. “And why was that?”

“I wanted to see what would happen if you were closer to Marinette.” Longuevie said warily, locking eyes with Adrien.

Adrien’s back tingled. “What for?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while but I was waiting till you were a little bit better to broach it with you.”

Adrien gulped. “Okay…?”

“As you know, your recovery has been… slow .”

More like nonexistent , thought Adrien ruefully, though being able to eat and get out of bed without wanting to die had been a big step forward.

“Though lately you’ve been taking some small steps into significant recovery.”

Adrien shrugged noncommittally. “I guess so.”

“I wish I could say it’s because of our care, but that isn’t entirely true. I’ve had some help to deal with your...condition.”

Adrien turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. “Help?”

“Yes. I was running out of options, and we were risking your father transferring you to another hospital, so I had no choice but to accept this help.”

Adrien was getting more and more nervous by the second. Who had been helping Longuevie deal with Adrien?

“It’s not to worry of course, as I’m pretty sure you’re very familiar with them…”

“Sorry, I don’t think I follow,” Adrien said, nervous.

Longuevie looked at him for a moment, then grabbed the edge of his white coat, lifting it slightly.

“You may come out, now,”  Longuevie said toward the interior of his coat.

And suddenly, out of his coat shot a glowing red blur, a creature so familiar it caused Adrien’s blood to run cold as it flew up to his face.

“Adrien! Oh, goodness, it’s been so long! I’ve been so worried!” Tikki said

“T-Tikki!?” Adrien choked. He tensed and it suddenly felt like a whole bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on him, his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach. His heart had began beating so fast that the heart monitor gave a warning beep.

“Adrien, you need to calm down,” Longuevie warned, “Relax...”

“It’s okay, Adrien!” Tikki piped in, “I promise it’s okay, don’t worry!”

He tried to calm down, willing the ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach back down and his breathing to even.

“Y-You know e-each other…” Adrien said, eyes wide.

“Yes, somewhat.” Longuevie said, shrugging. Tikki nodded in turn.

“So you… you know t-that…” Adrien said, pointing at Tikki. “I mean, you know ab-bout…”

“That Marinette is Ladybug? Yes...” Longuevie confirmed, looking at Adrien sheepishly. “And I also know… about you.” Longuevie said meaningfully, glancing at Adrien’s ring.

“How!?” Adrien squeaked, covering his ring on instinct.

“I will tell you once you calm down.” Longuevie said sternly, “Breathe. Go on.”

Adrien obeyed without a word, giving a few well practiced breaths. However, the moment he began to calm down, Plagg poked his head out, floating beside Adrien.

“Ugh, guess the cat is outta the bag…” Plagg grumbled.

“Plagg!” Adrien screeched.

“Whatever! He knows already!” Plagg snapped, crossing his arms.“I wonder who else knows. Maybe the neighbor next door. Or maybe the lady down at the flower shop or I don’t know MAYBE THE GORILLA? Swell, awesome, perfect, just what we needed!”

“He’s very... different,” Longuevie commented softly, looking at Tikki, eyes slightly wide in wonder.

“A bit…” she said, “It’s okay, Plagg! Only he knows!”

“Yeah right, lets see how long that lasts.” Plagg said with a huff. “At this rate the whole lot of Paris will find out.”

“If it helps assuage your fears, I’ve known for nearly a month and I’ve taken special care that the nurses or other visitors don’t find out about you.” Longuevie reassured him.  

“A month?” Adrien asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

“Yes,” Longuevie said, taking off his glasses to clean them idly with the hem of his coat, “I had only found out about Marinette, but it didn’t take long for me to put two and two together after I saw your ring and was told just where you were found during your accident .”

“He told me his suspicions about you, and I had to tell him, Adrien,” Tikki confessed, “I’m very sorry, but it’s for the best. He can help you!”

So the person Adrien had caught Longuevie whispering to in his room… the red light bobbing around him… was Tikki ?

Adrien gave a deep breath.

“You need to backtrack a bit, this is a bit much for me…” Adrien said, rubbing his temples, “Okay, so how did you find out about Marinette? I thought I had been careful to protect her identity...”

“Yes, quite. The funeral was the perfect smokescreen,” Longuevie agreed. “And I’m sure Marinette would’ve appreciated it, if only she could remember who she was.”

“Then how did you find out she was Ladybug?” Adrien asked.

“After your… accident , I received a tip off,” Longuevie started slowly, “from someone who told me about Marinette and who wanted me to look after you, as well as her, to the best of my ability..”

Adrien’s brows knitted in a frown. “Who?”

Who else could know about his secret and tell Longuevie about him specifically?

“You’ll meet them soon enough. But after you were wounded, I was asked to take you on as my patient, as well. At the beginning, I didn’t know why, but I trusted their judgement,” Longuevie explained. “You never once wondered how much of a coincidence it was that I was taking care of both of you?”

“I guess I did, once,” Adrien admitted. “But I thought it was just luck finally being on my side.”

“In a way, it was,” Longuevie chuckled. “It came as quite a shock to me as you can imagine. Taking care of the one and only Ladybug, whose survival hinged purely on my abilities? No pressure.” He showed Adrien a gentle smile that looked slightly nervous.

Adrien winced, imagining how much stress that had put on Longuevie, to be responsible for Paris’ guardian and protector, and later to find out he was responsible for not one, but both of them. It was no little thing.

“So I accepted, and after being explained Marinette’s situation , I wondered how you fit into the picture, and why exactly they asked me to take care of you as well.  I started having suspicions,” Longuevie continued explaining, “The mysterious nature of your wounds, the place you were found being the last place Chat Noir was seen at, your ring, your devotion to Marinette, who was Ladybug… After convincing her to show herself, I asked Tikki if my guess was sound, and she confirmed your identity to me. I had been trying to get you to tell me yourself, but you did keep your secret well hidden.” Longuevie gave him a good natured smile.

“I see,”  Adrien said, reeling from the barrage of information. “Why did you want me to be close to Marinette, though?”

“It was the effects it was having on you,” Longuevie said.

“What effects?” Adrien said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Forgive me, I’m not exceedingly enlightened in the nature of your powers, although I do grasp some of it, but I think Tikki should be the one to explain that part to you.” Longuevie nodded at Tikki and she nodded back, floating closer to Adrien.

“It turns out we were healing you!” Tikki said.

“Really?” Adrien asked.

“When you first got here, you were placed in this room, and Marinette was two floors down,” she explained. “During that time, you barely showed any sign of improvement, in fact, they were close to losing you again, right?” Tikki asked Longuevie.

“Yes. After you were revived, your health kept deteriorating, no matter what we did,”  Longuevie said, a hint of sadness in his tone. “You were in so much pain all the time... You were barely hanging to life by a thread.”

“I found out you were here because I overheard Madame Cheng mentioning it,” Tikki continued, “So one night, I snuck into your room to see how you were doing, but I was so worried about you that I had not noticed that Dr. Longuevie had been sleeping in a corner of your room because of how frail your condition was.”

“Oh, so like a babysitter, only for stupid teenagers,” Plagg added. Adrien frowned at Plagg, pouting.

“He did it so he could look after you, to rush to your aid if something went wrong since you were in such a delicate state.” Tikki continued.

Adrien turned to look at his doctor. The fact that he had kept tabs on him, going above and beyond duty, almost as much as a real father would, was heart warming.

Adrien smiled sincerely. “Thank you…”

“Ah well, sleep is overrated,” Longuevie said with an amused smile. “But indeed, this is also how I eventually found out about your friend here.. Um…”

“Plagg,” Adrien said. “His name is Plagg.”

Plagg fidgeted, uncomfortable, “So uh, you… you saw me?” Plagg seemed nervous all of a sudden. Very nervous. How had he been so careless to not notice Adrien wasn’t alone?  “You heard everything?”

“Oh, I didn’t actually see you, but Tikki told me about you. You kept yourself well hidden.”

Plagg visibly relaxed. “Oh great, wouldn’t want you thinking there was anything… uh, odd…” Plagg chuckled.

“What are you talking about?” Tikki asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Plagg hesitated, “Well, the Miraculous and stuff! It’s supposed to be secret remember?”

“Oh… right.” Tikki agreed. “So anyway, I didn’t know he was doing this, so I would hang around you, and Dr. Longuevie saw everything. By this time, Dr. Longuevie already knew Marinette was Ladybug, but he had no idea about me because he was not told details about her powers, just why it was so important that she survived.”

“I treated her as an hallucination caused by sleep deprivation,” Longuevie chuckled.  “But she kept appearing. So one night, I waited till she snuck into your room and followed after her. When I came in, she hid, but I called to her and told her it was alright to come out, and told her what I knew about Marinette.”

Tikki nodded. “We started talking and I explained a little to Dr. Longuevie about how your powers worked so he could understand why you were so hurt. But Dr. Longuevie made an observation, something I hadn’t noticed.”

“Which was?” Adrien pressed.

“You seemed to do better whenever Tikki visited,” Longuevie said. ”On days she didn’t, you either stayed the same or declined. So I asked Tikki to visit more often so I could prove my theory.”

“And he was right!” Tikki said, “Every time I visited, your readings were slightly better at the end of every day.”

“Well, it’s what happened with Marinette, too,” Adrien explained, “right at the beginning, remember? We noticed Marinette started to heal whenever you stayed with her the night. That’s how her lung healed so quickly.”

“Precisely,” Longuevie said, nodding, “But…”

“But?” Adrien repeated.

“I didn’t think that was all. Marinette healed exponentially fast, whereas you healed only a little.” Longuevie said. “So I asked Miss Marinette to be moved beside your room, now that M. Agreste had so generously paid for Miss Marinette’s recovery and upgraded her care.”

“Why would he do that?” Adrien asked. Adrien had never figured out why his father would go out of his way to pay for one of his friend’s recovery. It was so unlike him to be that generous to anyone at all, least of all a girl he didn’t even really know beyond partaking in his contests.

“I’m afraid I have no clue. I did find it rather odd with how… your father is,” Longuevie said cautiously, “But anyway, there were no objections from the Dupain-Chengs, and Miss Marinette was moved to the room besides yours.”

“And?” Adrien asked, “Any change?”

“Absolutely,” Longuevie said with a smile, “Your condition stabilized, and although it’s been slow, you’ve been healing steadily. The very fact you’re awake right now, having a conversation and talking to me as if nothing had happened, is nothing short of a miracle, considering a few weeks ago we couldn’t even keep you conscious long enough to even get a word in. You were in so much pain every second you spent awake was torture for you.”

“Wow…” Adrien said, eyes widening. Now that it was being put in perspective, it all really sounded incredible, how Tikki had this effect on him. How the Miraculous alone had this sort of influence.

“Indeed. I cannot explain it, as I don’t completely understand it,” Longuevie continued, “but it’s like having Tikki and Marinette close to you amplifies their healing influence, so Marinette has been like a lifeline for you.”

Adrien managed to smile a bit. Even though Marinette no longer remembered him, she was still a blessing in his life, protecting him in her own way. Was this how he and Marinette were able to share their dreams? Was this connection between them, this influence, the whole reason behind it?

“So that’s why I allowed you to stay in Marinette’s room last night. I wanted to see if the proximity would speed things in any way.”

“Did it?” Adrien asked.

Longuevie shrugged, “Too soon to tell… but how do you feel about getting that cast off by the end of this week?”  Longuevie asked, pointing at Adrien’s bound arm.

Adrien looked down at his arm and wiggled his fingers experimentally. They tingled somewhat, but didn’t hurt as much as before, so he turned to look back at Longuevie and nodded, “More than ready.”

Perhaps, despite everything, despite Marinette’s memory loss, things could still look up. Perhaps, with this uncanny ability of Marinette’s to heal even outside her suit, as if she had absorbed Tikki’s power over the last two years, she would improve as well and maybe with time… remember him.

He felt the slightest pang of elation throb in his heart.

And now that Longuevie knew about him, he felt safer. Someone was watching over him. Maybe Adrien could finally tell him what happened to him so they could figure out what to do together. He still didn’t know who Longuevie’s mysterious confidante was, but they were clearly on his side.

Adrien’s heart swelled with hope for the first time in days, and not even Plagg, who had remained quiet the rest of the exchange with a concerned expression on his face, could knock him out of his high.

DAY 3

My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m 14… I’m 14 years old… I attend Collége Francoise Dupont. I’m in third… year. I like fashion, drawing, and baking-

Marinette winced at the flash of pain that suddenly shot up her back.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the nurse apologized, catching  Marinette’s expression as she massaged her leg, as had become their routine ever since Marinette woke up a couple of days ago. Marinette shook her head, signaling it was okay. The nurse resumed her exercises.

My name is… Marinette Dupain-Cheng… Ugh…

She winced again.

Marinette had to go through this at least two times a day, but she dreaded it every time.  It hurt to have her legs manipulated, but she found she couldn’t move them herself, feeling weakened and unresponsive when she tried.

Other people had to do it, to keep the blood flowing and prevent muscular atrophy, or something of the sort. But every time they did it, her half-healed hip retaliated with a vengeance and Marinette was sunk in a world of pain.

Marinette took a long, steadying breath.

My name… my name  is Marinette Dupain-Cheng...

Marinette recited in her head again; a familiar mantra her doctor had told her to recite to herself so she could help the connections in her brain heal...

I’m 12… no,  14 years old…

Fourteen still felt like such a foreign number to her. Something she couldn’t quite associate with herself… but her physical attributes, as well as the dates in every piece of technology around her told her otherwise. It was such a bizarre feeling to have to force her mind to jump in time two years to catch up with her current reality…

She breathed in again.

...I attend Collége Francoise Dupont. I’m in third year. I like fashion, drawing, and baking. My mom is Sabine Cheng. My dad is Tom Dupain-

Marinette gasped in pain, fingers digging into the mattress.

“Only a little bit more to go,” the nurse coaxed, lifting Marinette’s leg and folding it at the knee slowly and methodically, over and over.

Marinette huffed, squeezing her eyes shut.

My name… my name is Marinette…

My name is Marinette…

She sniffled, eyes blinking with unshed tears as her arms tensed, riding out the pain.

Not again...

Marinette thought she was fresh out of tears. She had wept so much the past three days that she thought she’d be dehydrated by now, but she kept tearing up. Sometimes she would even start crying for no reason...

“There, there… we’re done,” the nurse soothed gently, laying down her leg and setting her bed up straight again so that Marinette was in a sitting position, covering her legs with a blanket. “Now that that part is out of the way, let's try something else, okay?”

Marinette nodded numbly, dabbing at her eyes as the nurse moved out of her line of sight to fetch something. Her legs throbbed painfully, her hip feeling hot and in pain, and she was so tired. Always tired, all the time . She sighed despondently, lying back against the pillows and closing her eyes.

She then felt a warm weight on her hand and turned to look her father, laying his big, warm hand on hers, a sympathetic smile on his face. He had been quiet the whole session, letting the nurse do what she had to do, no matter how much it pained him to see his little girl hurt.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Tom told her softly, rubbing her knuckles soothingly with a thumb. Marinette smiled weakly, though not feeling nearly as hopeful as he did. She wished her mother was there too. They were both such a soothing presence, but her mother was currently gone to tend to the bakery for the day.

Marinette sighed and squeezed her dad’s hand back as she waited. She stared at the round clock on the wall, its almost imperceptible ticking breaking the silence as its hands seemed to take forever to travel around it.

Forever. That's what everything seemed to feel like ever since she woke.

Things just seemed to be running at a snail’s pace. Days were eternal. Minutes felt like hours. The world around her moved slowly. Most of the time it seemed she went through the day only half awake, drifting in and out without realizing, lulled by the monotony and silence that not even her parents could break as they tried to make small talk with her.

Sometimes she would suddenly fall asleep in the middle of a conversation before she could even feel it. She didn’t mean to be rude, but it seemed that at times her brain just… disconnected, causing her to black out.

When awake, she found herself processing things with difficulty. People needed to talk slowly to her or she’d get lost in the conversation. She would miss words, as if sound drowned out suddenly. They needed to repeat things often, as if she couldn’t understand them, and Marinette just felt so slow, like in a constant state of lethargy.

Then there were the hallucinations. Sometimes she would get them, sometimes she wouldn’t. Everytime she woke up, it was a gamble between being fully aware of reality, or waking up to a strange alternate universe where nothing was right and she lost sense of who she was or where, sometimes even thinking she was in a different country altogether.

Sometimes the visions were inconsequential, but most of the time... they were terrifying.

She’d be sunk in a constant state of fear, trapped in a living nightmare, strapped to her bed, feeling abandoned, her voice silent, no matter how much she tried to scream. She’d see shadows move across her room, watching her, like creatures waiting to pounce, glowing eyes glinting maliciously in the dark.

At times, she felt like she was in a laboratory, being tested on, lied to, being told she had had an accident… But what was real and what was fake? She’d feel restraints around her wrists and ankles, even when there was nothing even touching her skin, feeling needles in her arms, blinding lights upon her head.

In particularly terrible hallucinations, she would sometimes hurt herself struggling against a force that wasn’t really there. A force she felt was trying to clutch at her, shadows snaking around her arms and black butterflies fluttering around her vision.

The black butterflies.

They had become a constant. She felt them crawling on her skin in droves, fluttering near her ears, nipping at her earlobes. But no matter how much she shook her head, they never disappeared and she would clap her hands over her ears, curling into herself in an attempt to shield herself from their assault.

But they would never go away, not until she felt a prick in her arm, and then suddenly everything faded to black, waking up what felt hours later with the butterflies gone and everything back to normal.

She had come to welcome the sting in her arm as a sign of deliverance from the visions that assailed her, many times pleading to feel it again. Many times pleading she could remain asleep.

But despite being told that this - the memory loss, the visions, the pain - were normal, Marinette felt nothing but concern. Concern that she would never, truly, be okay again.

The door closed suddenly, making her jump and snapping Marinette out of her thoughts. The nurse had come back, holding a basket full of different materials.

“We’re going to work with these today, okay Miss?” the nurse said softly. “Take your time with them.” Marinette nodded numbly and the nurse started laying out several items on Marinette’s lap; a pencil, a basic sewing kit, a notebook...

“Let’s start with the sewing kit, okay?” the nurse instructed.

Marinette knew the drill by now (having started this routine almost immediately after coming out of her coma) but she reached out for the objects hesitantly. Ever since she woke, she realized there was a slight tremor to her hands, and no matter what she did, Marinette had no control over it, causing her difficulties on seemingly simple tasks, like the one she was trying to do now.

She had found it so odd at the beginning to be asked to do such simple tasks… but even odder to find she was unable to do them… It was a bizarre and unsettling feeling, like her body wasn’t her own, like all she wore were prosthetics which she was trying to get acquainted with.

After a few tries, Marinette managed to grab a needle between her index and thumb, and wrap her fingers around a spare piece of thread.

“Now -  the thread - eye,” the nurse said.

Marinette paused, blinking at the nurse.

What?

It was as if the nurse’s voice was a skipping record, missing pieces in it. Marinette’s brows furrowed in worry and she swallowed uncomfortably, waiting.

Understanding right away why Marinette was pausing, the nurse motioned with her hands.

“Put the thread through the eye, Marinette,” the nurse repeated slower this time, imitating the described motion with her fingers.

Marinette made an “ o ” shape with her mouth, and tried to do as told. She gulped, and moved her fingers. Shouldn’t be too hard , she thought, just put the thread through the eye . It’s a big eye, should be simple...

Marinette’s hands trembled and she brought the purple thread to the eye of the needle a little too fast, causing it to fly right over it. Marinette huffed, and tried again. She could do this, she had become an expert at this since she spent so much time sewing.. She could do this, she could do this…

Darn !

Missed again.

Gritting her teeth, Marinette tried again and after several minutes, she finally managed to put the thread through the eye, heaving a sigh of relief as the nurse tied the knot for her. She then gave her a piece of fabric.

“Good. Now, try to do a simple stitch on this,” she said.

Marinette grabbed the scrap fabric with trembling fingers, feeling the soft satin texture.

Swallowing, she tried to put the needle through it, but she ended up missing, the tip of the needle sliding over the smooth surface. She tried again and again, skewing her eyes to focus better.

On the last try, Marinette managed the feat, poking the needle through the fabric, but she gasped as she ended up pricking herself, dropping the items as she nursed her finger in her mouth, tasting copper.

Marinette looked up at the nurse in shame.

“It’s alright miss, you’re just starting. This is completely normal,” she encouraged, taking Marinette’s hand and covering the miniature wound with a small bandaid before proceeding. “Let’s try something else.”

She passed Marinette the notebook and a pencil, which Marinette grabbed shakily.

“You like fashion right? How about sketching a simple dress?” the nurse asked.

Marinette bit her lower lip, propping the notebook on her knees.  She put the pencil to the sheet and tried to sketch something. Her hand moved slow and unsteady, leaving a shaky line in her wake.

But no matter how much Marinette tried to keep her arm still, all that came out from her drawing attempt after several minutes was a mess of shaky lines only she knew had been meant to be a two-piece dress.

Marinette felt her eyes water as she regarded the result. Shapeless, deformed… no head or tails could be made of it. It was unrecognizable. Like the drawing of a 2 year old child scribbled on a wall.

She took a sharp intake of breath as an unsettling feeling began to build in the pit of her stomach, and she looked down in disappointment.

“It’s okay, you’ll get it soon. Let’s try writing your name shall we? Can you try that for me?” the nurse asked, turning the notebook so Marinette could write on a fresh page. Marinette knew this was probably the most important test of the three, and she swallowed nervously.

Since she couldn’t speak, her only means of communication were vague hand gestures and writing, so she put the pencil to the paper and, holding her wrist down with her other hand to keep it as steady as possible, Marinette slowly attempted to write her name...

But it was no use. It was as if her hand rebelled against her, shaking fiercely in her grasp. As if her brain kept sending the wrong signal, and the pencil went off in another direction. Frustration mounted within her, mingling with her sadness.

She couldn’t do this anymore...

A lonely tear freed itself from her eyes and fell to the sheet, staining what she had intended to be an r. A broken whimper escaped her and she dropped the pencil, ripping the sheet off the notebook and crushing it in her fist.

Dropping the paper ball, she curled in on herself and brought her hands to her face, sobbing into them.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sew. She couldn’t draw. She couldn’t write .

She couldn’t do anything.

“Oh, honey,” Tom said, standing from his seat to wrap his arms around Marinette, “It’s alright, you’ll get better soon, I promise. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

Marinette clung to her father, burying her face in his chest. He rocked her gently, patting her head comfortingly as the nurse picked up the objects and left to give Marinette some privacy, her expression sympathetic.

Her dreams of being a great artist, a recognized fashion designer working for the biggest names in the industry, had been dashed in one fell swoop. She didn’t even know how, not completely. She didn’t understand how she had ended up here; so messed up that everything she had dreamed about achieving was but a distant memory now.

All she was told was that she had been in an accident; a grievous accident where some sort of supervillain - Marinette could hardly believe they were actually using that word unironically - had blown up several buildings, and she had been caught strolling down the wrong street at the wrong time.

A building had collapsed on her, leaving her fatally wounded, but then, someone named Chat Noir - odd choice for a name, she thought - had rescued her from the rubble and brought her to an ambulance. She had been saved from the brink of death at the hospital, but fell into a coma for at least two months, having finally woken up mere days ago.

So here she was now. Numb. Lost. Confused. Scared. Being unable to do basic things like talking, walking, writing, and not knowing if she would ever go back to being normal again…

She was completely, and utterly crippled when for her, it had just been yesterday that she was attending her first day of school on the first year of collége , completely healthy, completely functional, happy, full of dreams, full of hope…

All gone.

And that wasn’t all she had lost. She had lost memories. Two years worth of them.Two years worth of ideas, of designing, of experiences...Two years worth of new people that had probably meant a lot to her but were now strangers.

Like Adrien.

Besides her parents, he had been the first person she saw after waking up. Before he was brought to her room, she had been shown a picture of her supposed class of third year, to see if she could remember them.

She was told the names of each of them. Some she remembered meeting the day before (or two years ago? Time had become irrelevant to Marinette), some were entirely new faces. They had then pointed out specific people who had been of special importance to her. Her supposed best friend, her best friend’s boyfriend - whom she recalled seeing before but never really talked to him. Nino she believed? - and another boy.

Adrien.

He had looked different. Polished, clean, handsome. One could say he was modelling for a fashion magazine with how flawless his posing was and how photogenic he looked. His smile was perfect and white, his eyes a pure, vibrant green.

She recognized him from somewhere but couldn’t place it. It was somewhere impersonal, like a picture of him on the internet, but nothing like interacting with him, or being friends.  He was good looking though, that much she could tell.

But now, he was a mess. He was pale, tired, damaged. Had he been in the same accident as her? She was curious but couldn’t bring herself to care enough to ask. She was still dealing with her own problems, but...

He had looked so hurt when she told them she couldn’t remember him. Could it be that… they were more than friends? She couldn’t tell, since she didn’t feel anything when seeing him, but by his destroyed expression, she assumed she had been really important to him, which made her rejection all the more difficult for her to admit.

But she just couldn’t do anything about it. There was so much in her head. So much frustration and dejection in heart, so much loss in her present, and hopelessness in her future…

She couldn’t stop the new round of sobs that started wracking her body and she wrapped her arms around her dad, wondering if waking up had been a good thing at all…

DAY 6

“Alright, how’s that feeling?” Longuevie asked Adrien.

Adrien wiggled his fingers slowly. His arm had been freed from the cast at last, and it felt stiff. He couldn’t move it as freely as he used to be able to, but his hand and fingers were responsive.

“It feels a bit sore but everything works,” Adrien said, bending his arm experimentally and carefully lifting it to test his shoulder, wincing when he realized he couldn’t lift it all the way. “Shoulder not so much.”

“Yes, that’s normal, it was dislocated from the shoulder joint, and the rest of your arm had several fissures in it,” Longuevie said, grabbing his arm and squeezing specific parts to feel the bone. “The fissures have closed but the dislocation may have made the joint clam up. You’ll have to do some exercises to get your full range of movement back, but if you’re dedicated, it should be back to normal before you know it.”

“Hope so,” Adrien sighed.

“It’s very likely that you’ll be sharing a few therapy sessions with Marinette, actually,” Longuevie said, idly massaging his shoulder gently. “She also needs physical rehabilitation, and interacting with someone she knew from the last two years should help jog her memory and get her reacquainted with her former life.”

Adrien felt a tingly feeling in the lining of his stomach. “You really think seeing me often will make her remember me?”

Longuevie shrugged, “It is recommended to constantly try to remind people with amnesia about what they used to know and do while the connections in their brain are still healing. It may improve her chances of recovering the memories she lost if she’s around people she used to know. Showing them pictures and other objects helps, too.”

“I see,”  Adrien said, “Alya and Nino have been desperate to see how she’s doing. Will they be able to visit her soon?”

“Hmm…” Longuevie said, twisting Adrien’s arm in experimental ways to see the extent of his range of movement, “I’ve asked them to wait till next week since everything is still rather… overwhelming for Marinette and her mood to entertain visitors hasn’t been the best lately, so for the wellbeing of both parties, I suggested we hold out until next week.”

“How did they take the news?” Adrien asked.

Longuevie hummed to himself, pensive.

Longuevie had asked Adrien to avoid telling Nino and Alya about Marinette’s condition, preferring to explain it himself to let them know the emotional and physical repercussions these kind of conditions put friends and family through and how to deal with them.

“Well, it was hard to tell on the phone,” Longuevie said, scratching the back of his neck, “but Miss Alya did go quiet. Nino had to continue the conversation and hang up for her. He took it a bit better but he did sound low-spirited. But it’s to expect for Miss Alya to take it harder. They were best friends weren’t they?”

Adrien’s face fell, “Yeah, they were practically inseparable.”

“I will be asking Miss Alya, once she feels better, to visit Marinette frequently during the week. It’s important to have someone beside her parents tell Marinette about what she used to do during her times of leisure, show her pictures, videos, tell her stories, and I think Miss Alya may be perfect for the role. This may just help Marinette improve faster.”

“I sure hope so,” Adrien said. “How is Marinette doing? Tikki hasn’t been telling me much, but she looks really sad everytime she visits me. Is everything okay?”

“It’s been… complicated ,” Longuevie said vaguely. “Marinette is having a really hard time dealing with her condition. She’s been closing off, turning a bit... uncooperative. But it’s common in the beginning for her to be like this. It’s a lot to take in, so frustration is normal. That’s why I’m hoping having therapy with you and recall sessions with Miss Alya will help keep her mind off things and speed up her recovery.”

“Will I be able to see her soon?”  Adrien asked. Truth was, he was starting to get antsy.  He hadn’t been able to see Marinette in his dreams. Either because she didn’t sleep, or because the connection may have gotten severed when she woke. He wasn’t quite sure and it was starting to make him nervous. The fact Longuevie had just confirmed that Marinette wasn’t doing too well, at least on the emotional side, worried Adrien deeply, too.

“Let’s give her some space for now. Once she’s calmer and more willing to see people, I will take you to her. I will have Miss Alya see her first, and then visit you so that you can sort out things together. In moments like these, it’s important to have support from all parties. I’m sure Miss Alya will be seeking some comfort as well. You should all look after each other.”

“Got it.” Adrien said, nodding. He sighed inwardly. The way it sounded, it was going to be a heavy couple of weeks ahead of him.

“Well then, back to you. Since we’re now on the same boat, care to tell me how this happened?” Longuevie asked, tapping Adrien’s shoulder lightly. “Aren’t your suits supposed to be like armor of some kind?”

“Yes, but they have limitations, at least when it comes to other magical beings. Normal stuff doesn’t affect us, but anything supernatural has a better chance of damaging us,” Adrien said. “As for how I dislocated my arm, a stupid dragon dropped a boulder on it, and when I had it put back, he bit it out of the joint again.”

Longuevie winced, “That explains the fissure. I suppose the burn on the back was caused by the aforementioned dragon too, right?”

“Pretty much.” Adrien nodded.

“What about…” Longuevie motioned towards his stomach, “Was it really the dragon's breath that caused all that?”

“No, that’s what they thought happened. That one is a little bit more complicated to explain.” Adrien put a finger on his chin. “How much do you know about our powers?”

Longuevie hummed in thought. “Ladybug fixes things, you destroy things. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Right. So I’ll put it this way. Ladybug ‘fixes’ or purifies Akumas, and only she can do it. If she doesn’t purify them, Akumas multiply and a whole army of monsters attack at the same time. I can’t purify Akumas, but since she was out of commission, I tried to use my power on an Akuma, thinking I could just destroy it, but it backfired on me.”

Longuevie winced again. “So it… destroyed you on the inside?”

“Kind of. Cataclysm can have different effects. In my case, it was kinda degenerative. At first, I only got sick. I had a cough but nothing too serious, but it started getting worse till I started coughing up blood.”

Longuevie made a face. “And you didn’t seek out help when that started happening?”

Plagg, who had been sitting on a pillow beside Adrien eating Camembert silently, cleared his throat rather noisily.

Adrien threw him a dirty look. “I… put it off.”

“How could you put off something like that?” Longuevie asked, appalled.

“I was scared of what would happen if someone found out who I was!” Adrien said, putting his hands up defensively. “I didn’t know how to explain what was happening to me, and I didn’t want my father to know, especially.”

“You should’ve seen him. He was a walking wreck,” Plagg pitched in. “Went to school with a fever and passed out in front of everyone. But did he listen to me? Noooo.”

“How come no one in your family noticed?” Longuevie said, his expression getting more and more concerned.

“Well it’s… uh, I guess I was good at hiding it,” Adrien said.

“Not really,” Plagg said, huffing, “But his assistant would only talk to him when there was an appointment and his dad is never home so no one really looks after him. How do you think he manages to be Chat Noir all the time?”

Longuevie made a disapproving face. “So they neglect you?”

Adrien felt his insides go cold at the tone with which Longuevie said it. It seemed angry, disappointed.

“I-I wouldn’t say that, I mean it’s not… it’s not like my father doesn’t care about me,” Adrien tried, but even his heart refused to jump to his defense, “He… he just shows it differently. He’s been different since mom left, and he’s busy all the time, but Nathalie takes care of me, I get food, and transport and everything...”

“Neglect involves more than just physical necessities, Adrien. They involve emotions too.”  Longuevie said in a low voice, and Adrien could distinguish a hint of spite in his tone. He had the distinct feeling Longuevie didn’t like his father very much.

Adrien himself didn’t know what to say and he went quiet, rubbing his arm awkwardly. Even he couldn’t deny he had begun to feel pushed aside most days.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mother?” Longuevie asked, his tone softening.

“We don’t know. Mom and father went on a trip one day  and she was just…. she was gone…”  Adrien said, lowering his head. His heart started throbbing, a lump forming in his throat. “We don’t know what happened to her. I’ve always been wondering if maybe she just left? My father was absent most days but we were okay, she would homeschool me and things just… seemed to be o-okay… she didn’t look… unhappy...”

Much to his despair, Adrien began to notice his voice break, his head bringing up memory after memory with his mother.

“I’m sorry, I-I….” Adrien started, trying to apologize, but he was surprised at the feeling of warmth suddenly enveloping him, Longuevie having surrounded him with his arms in a warm embrace.

“It’s okay Adrien,” Longuevie said. “Whatever her reasoning was, I’m sure you had nothing to do with it. You’re a great kid, and I’m sure your mother loved you very much. She must’ve had her reasons, but you mustn't ever blame yourself for this or apologize for your feelings. Alright?”

Adrien breathed softly against his white coat, gingerly bringing up his arms to return the hug. “Yes, sir.”

They parted and Longuevie patted his head gently, “Now let’s see about setting you up for some therapy sessions, alright?”

She was crying in her asleep again. Tossing, turning… Her fingers grabbed at her bedsheets, knuckles white with the effort, her forehead glowing with sweat, face contorted in a grimace.

Tikki hid in a corner of the mattress, watching helplessly as Marinette struggled on her bed, breathing quick and heavy. She looked around, making sure Marinette’s mother was fast asleep before floating off to her charge. She carefully approached her, laying a paw on her tearstained cheek.

“It’s okay Marinette,” Tikki whispered, caressing Marinette’s cheek in a futile attempt to calm her. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

But far from being assuaged, Marinette started struggling with renewed vigor, until suddenly, her eyes snapped open, causing Tikki to freeze in place.

Tikki paused, holding her breath, fearing having been seen, but even though she was right in front of Marinette’s face, she seemed to be unable to see her, looking past her. Tikki looked behind her, curious, but saw nothing on the ceiling beyond.

When she turned around again however, she realized Marinette’s face had now contorted in an expression of horror, pupils shrinking in terror as she pulled herself all the way back against the back of the bed, her eyes flitting around the room in panic. She then started slapping at her arms and chest between whimpers, as if she was trying to get something off her.

The butterflies .

Tikki knew about them since Marinette had once drawn what looked like a black butterfly on the whiteboard when her parents asked her what kept scaring her so much during her hallucinations.

Marinette couldn’t remember who she was, who she used to be…

But she could remember the feeling of apprehension that black butterflies brought her as Ladybug. The fear that consumed her whenever Hawk Moth came too close to stealing her Miraculous...

Marinette sobbed, shaking her head, clutching at her ears, trying to shake off creatures that weren’t there. Tikki watched in horror as Marinette bumped her head against the wall in her thrashing, trying to scare off the dark insects, scratching at her arms and leaving angry red marks on her skin.

Before Tikki could do anything however, she heard shuffling, signaling Marinette’s mother had been woken up by the noises. She quickly hid under the bed to avoid being discovered, throwing Marinette one last sad look.

Now used to Marinette’s vision-induced panic attacks, a drowsy Sabine automatically jumped off the couch and ran to her daughter, quickly holding her thrashing arms against her sides and pressing her to her chest, as had become the routine after the hallucinations had become more and more recurrent and violent.

“ Shhhh , Marinette. There’s nothing there, sweetheart,” Sabine whispered soothingly, pressing the button on the side of the bed, and rapidly surrounding Marinette with her arms. “There’s nothing there. It’s okay, I’m with you. Nothing will hurt you, I promise. Shhh …”

Marinette sobbed, pressing her face against Sabine’s chest, trembling fiercely, kicking her legs against the invisible insects still trying to crawl up her skin.

“There’s nothing there,” Sabine repeated, “ There’s nothing there… ”

Before long, the door opened and Longuevie came in, panting as if he had run, his face apologetic.

“Another one?” Longuevie asked.

“Yes, a bad one,” Sabine said sadly, gently nursing a bump on the back of  Marinette’s head that had formed after hitting herself against the wall.

“I understand. Please hold her still,” Longuevie said, lifting Marinette’s sleeve and cleaning the skin to prepare it for injection as Sabine tightened her hold around Marinette. Marinette whimpered, struggling in Sabine’s hold.

“ Shhh , it’s alright, Marinette,”  Longuevie whispered, taking out a syringe from his pocket and slowly sinking the needle into her skin, pumping the antipsychotic sedative into Marinette’s arm. “You’ll be fine...”

Marinette’s movements gradually began to slow, the medication quickly taking effect. Tension seemed to melt away from her body, and her breathing slowed down as the ghastly images in her mind seemed to fade from existence.

“Good girl,” Longuevie soothed gently, covering the area of the injection and rubbing Marinette’s back reassuringly. “You’ll be okay, now…”

Marinette sagged against Sabine with a sigh, her limbs now going slack, her eyelids lowering to half mast as her breathing evened. Sabine softened her hold, moving to lay Marinette down on the bed until Marinette stopped her by reaching up with a trembling hand and tapping a finger three times against Sabine’s arm, looking up at her pleadingly.

Being unable to talk, Marinette and her parents had decided to begin creating a set of simple hand gestures Marinette could use to transmit basic ideas.  Hungry, thirsty, pain, cold, hot, I love you...

Marinette tapped Sabine’s arm three times again.

‘Stay with me, please.’

Sabine nodded gently, kissing Marinette’s forehead before she climbed carefully on the bed and laid down beside her, as they did sometimes during particularly bad nights. Marinette curled into her mother, taking refuge in the warmth of her arms, hiding her face in her neck and closing her eyes against the welcoming darkness that was now taking hold of her senses.

“How long will the hallucinations continue for?” Sabine asked softly, caressing the hair of a now sleeping Marinette.

Longuevie sighed. “It’s uncertain. We’ll continue treating her and see if that helps alleviate them until they stop.”  

“I just hate seeing her so scared,” Sabine lamented, “I feel so useless.”

“I understand madam, but there’s really not much we can do but be there for her, keep her calm, and give her medication for them until it stops.“ Longuevie explained. “It’s just part of her healing process.”

Sabine nodded with a sigh.

“We will be holding back on visitors for a couple of days until we can bring the visions under control, or it may just stress her further. Is this alright with you?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, then. Call me if you need anything else.” The doctor bowed courteously, and left the room.

Sabine continued caressing Marinette’s hair as she breathed softly into her neck, wondering, sadly, when she would have her daughter truly back again.

DAY 11

“Why do you think I can’t see her in my dreams anymore?” Adrien asked the Kwamis, pensive.

He was alone in his room and they had taken the chance to hang out with him for a little bit before the next nurse came around. A plate sat between them and Adrien on the bed with an assortment and cookies and pieces of camembert on it (having earned him an odd look from the nurse when he said he had a craving for a “snack”).

“She hasn’t shown up in them at all?”  Tikki asked.

“Not once,” Adrien continued, scrolling idly through his phone, not really paying attention to his messages or social media, which he had given up on after he realized it was filled to the brim with get well messages from admirers and other celebrities, so many he couldn’t possibly reply to all of them.

He had finally told Tikki about the dreams they had shared in detail, and how he was able to talk to Marinette through them before she woke up, realizing as he told the story, that the reason she couldn’t see him in her dreams was probably because she couldn’t remember him, so she couldn’t connect a face to the voice and her imagination couldn't conjure it up for her.

“Well, she hasn’t really been sleeping well,” Tikki offered, “so maybe it’s because of that.”

“But you told me they’re always putting her to sleep,” Adrien argued. “Because of the hallucinations?”

“Yes, but those are in short spurts, not enough time for her mind to enter the deepest state of sleep when dreams happen. And it’s mostly to calm her, so most of the time she’s not even fully asleep, just out of it,” Tikki explained, munching on a cookie. “Plus, the medication is supposed to prevent her brain from conjuring up images of any sort, so if she’s put to sleep, she’s not supposed to dream.”

“You mean to tell me she hasn’t had a full night of natural sleep at all since she woke?” Adrien said, putting down the phone to look at Tikki, concerned. Tikki looked down, her feelers drooping.

“No…” Tikki said. “The few times she’s fallen asleep on her own, she’s had nightmares. Every single time. Her sleeping cycles don’t last. That’s why she’s been so exhausted and disoriented ever since she woke up from her coma. She just can’t sleep properly. Her parents have to tell her what day it is and how long she’s been knocked out every time she’s put under for her to keep track of the days. She’s become a bit irritable because of it, but nothing too bad.”

“Dang, that must feel terrible,” Adrien said, feeling a horrible pang of sadness for Marinette.

“Yeah well, you must know what that’s like, huh?” Plagg said, gobbling a piece of the offending cheese. “It hasn’t precisely been smooth sailing for you either, Sleeping Beauty. But look at you, suffering together, definitely made for one another. I think Romeo and Juliet is a more apt description.”

“Not funny, Plagg,” Adrien pouted.

“But you’ve been getting better, right?” Tikki asked. “You have been awake more and more these past few weeks.”

“Yeah it definitely has been better, but I have you and Marinette and Longuevie to thank for that,” Adrien said, smiling and stroking Tikki’s head with a finger. “I just wish it was the same for her.”

“Give it time, hopefully she’ll start getting better soon, and you’ll be able to dream with her again!” Tikki said positively.

“Let us hope,” Adrien said with a half hearted smile. “I really miss her.”

My name is Marinette…

Mari… nette...

She sighed.

No point.

There was no point to anything. Not anymore.

Marinette stared at the objects in front of her. The notebook. The sewing kit. Everything.

But what was the point?

Nightmares by day. Nightmares by night. Constant pain. No rest. No voice. No progress. No improvement.  Nothing changed.

The hands on her lap trembled. A constant reminder that it would never be the same again. Exhaustion assailed her. Every day, every night. Sedatives, tranquilizers, antipsychotics. They did nothing. Nothing but encase her in a  temporary darkness where she could see nothing, feel nothing, do nothing. But it never fixed anything.

She no longer had dreams. Just nightmares that followed her even when she woke. She was trapped within her own mind, the silence being more deafening than any sound, unable to tell what was real and what was an illusion, confined to a bed every hour of every day, because she was still too frail to be moved around, even with a wheelchair.

She was going insane, grabbing at the bedsheets, overcome with anxiety.

She was tired. Tired of feeling pain, tired of feeling numb, tired of feeling exhausted , tired of feeling fear . Tired of being reminded of all she lost, and all she wouldn’t ever get back

She could no longer cry. Day by day, she began to feel less and less. She had long since ran out of tears.

Speech therapy didn't work. Physical therapy didn’t work.  She was still mute, and her legs still hurt.

Nothing worked.

She was broken.

“Miss? Could you point to the the object you want to start with?”

Marinette heard the nurse, speaking slowly so she could understand her, but she didn’t look at her, keeping her eyes staring vacantly at her hands. Her useless, trembling hands.  

She didn’t move.

“Come on, sweetie. You need to practice. It’s the only way to get better,” she heard her dad say beside her, but she didn’t look at him either. Even their comfort had become pointless. A ruse. A fleeting, false sense of security.

“Miss? How about we start with this?”

The nurse tried to press a pencil to Marinette’s hand, but she quickly pulled her hands away, hugging herself and hiding them under her arms. She didn’t want to be touched. She didn’t want anyone to touch her. God , she just wanted to be left alone.

“Marinette?” her dad pressed.

“You have to do this, honey, for your own good.” she heard her mother say on her other side.

Marinette shook her head. She didn't want to have to do anything with those objects. It had been more than a week and nothing had changed after the countless times they had done this same, stupid routine.

There was no point to this. There was no point to anything and it was grating at her that they didn’t realize it.

After a while of being ignored, the nurse finally seemed to move away.

“It’s alright. We‘ll try later.” the nurse said, taking the objects and leaving the room quietly. She then heard both her parents sigh and Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at any of them. She loved them dearly, but they couldn’t make things better.

No one could make this better. It would never be better.

It was over.

DAY 14

Several days passed, and things started getting more active for Adrien.

Although he had had absolutely no contact with Marinette, he slowly but surely continued to improve. He couldn’t yet walk on his own, but he could already keep himself seating for extended periods of time without suffering for it, allowing him more frequent strolls in his wheelchair.

His arm was also less stiff. He could already hold things steadily with it, and even text properly on his phone. He still couldn’t lift his arm as he used to, but it was functional for everything else.

His doses of morphine had been steadily lowered, though he realized he found himself needing them less and less each day (much to his relief), which allowed him more awake time. The pain that persisted throughout his body was becoming manageable, and the burns on his back had already started healing, lowering the sting considerably.

Adrien was fully aware there was going to be a large scar left on his back, but he had come to terms with that fact. He had always known modelling wouldn’t last forever, and even then, it was not something he visualized himself doing for the rest of his life anyway. He’d be okay.

He was actually quite looking forward to the upcoming days.

In fact, he was anxious but excited about today. It was the first time he’d be seeing Nino and Alya in several days after his father had imposed a temporary ban on visits so Adrien’s arm could heal in peace, and the first time since Marinette woke up.

Longuevie had already explained to Adrien that Alya and Nino would be re-introduced to Marinette, and then brought to his room to talk about their collective feelings on the situation. After that, he was having his first solo therapy session for his arm and legs.

It was going to be a long day, but to Adrien it felt like progress, and any progress was good progress to him, given the circumstances. He couldn’t wait to finally have some company again.

“You look chipper today, Mr. Agreste,” the nurse wheeling him down the hallway commented with a smile.

“I do feel pretty well today, thank you for taking me out, Miss Lisa,” Adrien said, smiling back at her, having now forged an amicable relationship with his nurses.

“Will your friends come to visit today?” she asked.

“Yeah, they will, but they’re going to see my friend Marinette first.” Adrien said, checking the messages on his phone, though there hadn’t been updates for the past hour.

“It’s good that you get to see them again. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said half heartedly, “My father can be a bit… particular…”

“Well, maybe he’s softening a bit,” she joked in a low voice.

Adrien laughed, “Wouldn’t that be something.”

“Would you like some breakfast, Mr. Agreste?” Lisa asked him as they rounded a corner and approached the hallway to his room.

“Oh, I’d love to - huh ?”

Adrien was interrupted from his thoughts and requested to be stopped when he saw Tom hanging at Marinette’s door, his face crestfallen. Adrien could notice black circles had formed around his eyes.

“Monsieur Dupain?” Adrien asked, “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, as if he was debating if telling Adrien was a good idea, but he gave in to the pressure of Adrien’s inquisitive gaze and gentle demeanor.

“Marinette is not eating,” he said softly. “Not one bite, not even her mom can make her. It’s been like this since two days ago. She refuses everything she’s given.”

“Really? Why?” Adrien asked.

“She’s just.... really sad. The doctor says it's common for people in Marinette’s situation to feel like this after they wake up,” Tom explained, “But it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”

It had been two weeks already, but the more Adrien heard, the more it seemed like Marinette wasn’t improving, at all… And it was eating at him to not know to what extent that was.

“May I see her?” Adrien asked.

Tom hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck apprehensively.

“I guess... you can, but I can’t guarantee you will be well received. She really hasn’t been… herself,” Tom said apologetically. “At all…”