"Alright, what's wrong with you?"

"What?" Chat Noir asked, sounding as though he'd been slapped out of a vivid daydream.

Ladybug pursed her lips and swung around to peer down at her partner. The two superheroes had come to a dead stop on the side of a building, and Marinette saw he had braced himself up on the windowsill beneath her. The dusky lamplights dotting the streets below were not enough to dispel the shadows cast over his face, but no shadow could hide those gleaming green eyes from her.

"Why have you stopped?" he called up to her. "We have half of our route left!"

Easing up on the tension of her yo-yo string, Ladybug abruptly dropped to his eye-level. Obviously, the move was unexpected, and he started and hissed, nearly slipping off the ledge upon which he was perched. If he had any real fur, it surely would have been standing on end.

She laughed, steadying him with a gentle hand. "Careful there, kitty. What happened to your cat-like reflexes?"

She expected him to roll with her joke—laugh it off, even—but when he only offered a half-hearted and sheepish smile, unease rolled down her spine.

Something's very wrong.

Without taking a single second to consider, she said, "I think we're done with our patrol tonight."

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "No! I've already had too many nights off! I'm feeling fine! I mean, I can—"

Her hand still rested on his arm, and she shut him up with a gentle squeeze. Once, Marinette wouldn't have allowed herself to get so close, to touch him so casually, but that had changed. It still shamed her to think it had taken a single hard hit—one even her Miraculous Cure couldn't fix—for her to realize just how much her partner meant to her.

She'd been an idiot to take him for granted.

"Feline," she muttered under her breath. "I'm feline fine." When Chat gaped like a beached fish, she gave him a sad smile. "Paris can hold its own for another night, Chat."

"But… what? Did you just pun? What's going on, my Lady? Is something wrong?"

Yes, she wanted to say. What's wrong is you're not okay.

Without another word, Marinette launched herself up and flipped onto the roof. Knowing Chat would be nothing less than a step behind her, she started rambling before his boots could so much as touch solid ground. "At first I thought it was nice—this silence," she said, a clumsy attempt at humor. "I thought, 'hey, I can actually focus tonight without my silly partner distracting me when we should be looking out for trouble,' but within the first minute, it got weird. Really, really weird."

Chat, who landed on the roof on all fours, eased out of his crouch and winced. Ladybug did not like the look on his face. His expression was carefully blank, more a mask than the one he was chosen to wear. It wasn't right, and her heart ached to see him so…

Disengaged.

This isn't Chat.

"I was kinda hoping—"

"What? That I wouldn't notice?" She placed her hands on her hips. "You always find an excuse to play around during our patrols, even when you're not feeling well! It's always amazed me, really—how you can be so perpetually cheerful—but it was like you weren't even here tonight! You didn't tease me when I slipped earlier! You didn't laugh or yell or joke or try to sneak up on me once, and there wasn't a single pun! And there were at least, like, two awesome opportunities for one, and you just didn't—"

Marinette trailed off, noticing Chat's magical ears beginning to flatten to his head, his posture and expression crumbling like a crust of dehydrated bread. He wasn't even trying to hide it any longer, and he stared at her as though she held the cure to a fatal disease he alone suffered from, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to hold it together.

For the first time since she had seen him go limp six weeks ago—the day he'd been cornered, helpless, and she'd been too late to prevent him from getting hurt—she felt genuine fear.

Whatever was bugging him (pun completely not intended), it was something worse than Marinette originally thought.

"Chat?" she asked, approaching hesitantly. "Is it your ribs? Are they still sore? I thought you said—"

He shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm fine. Can we continue? Please?"

Said the mess before her. She folded her arms, not buying it for a second. "You're not fine, kitty."

"I'm healed," he argued. He twisted agilely at the waist and stretched up to the sky. It was a relief to see he did so without grimacing in pain. Marinette could only thank her Ladybug luck that the very same akuma victim they fought that day was also a nurse who felt obligated to treat Chat in recompense for the damage she'd done…and continue to follow-up with both superheroes after the fact. They needed more civilians like her in the world. Heidi was a true angel, and without her help…

Ladybug shuddered to think what could have happened.

A hint of a genuine, victorious smirk touched Chat's lips, drawing her attention back to him. "See?"

Cocking her head, Ladybug considered her partner. It was obvious to her that he was trying—trying so, so hard—to prove he wasn't a liability. This was one of the first full patrols he had been allowed to accompany her on since he'd been injured, and since she (on Heidi's strong recommendations) had been the one to put him on house arrest, it was important to him that he show her he was ready to continue his duties.

He must have gone completely stir crazy, aching for the day he could return to the streets. He must have been beyond frustrated by how slow his recovery had been, by how patient and careful he had needed to be to divert attention from himself as he healed.

But this was the first time Marinette had seen him show any of this. The past few weeks, Chat had been nothing but a ball of cheer whenever she called to check up on him, his smiles broad and his optimism as unyielding as ever. Never once had he been bitter that she had mothered him for a majority of the last month, and never once had he blamed her for not getting to him in time that day.

If she were him, she would have exploded well before now, but then again, Chat had always been the stronger one. This, Marinette knew well.

But whatever this was? She didn't understand. Something was eating him alive, driving him to the point of breaking, and as he fidgeted restlessly, looking everywhere but at her, she couldn't tell if he was struggling to restrain himself from screaming at the heavens or if he wanted nothing more than to run away, as far and as fast as he could go.

Innately, she knew she had to hold him here this time. There was no running from this.

I need you to be okay, kitty.

"That doesn't mean you're fine," she whispered.

Chat blinked slowly at her. He took a deep breath, but before her eyes, he slumped forward, his nervous energy giving way to a bone-deep exhaustion. "No…" he admitted, his voice tiny. "No, it doesn't."

I should have known.

"You…You know I'm here for you, right?" Ladybug asked. "That you can talk to me?"

She reached out to him, but Chat rejected her touch. With a soft, strangled growl, he spun around, away from her, dragging his claws through his wild mane of hair.

"Ch—chat?"

When he shook his head, Marinette decided to hell with it and rested her hand on his tense shoulder. He might not have wanted it, but he needed it. His muscles loosened at her touch, and without saying a word, she encouraged him to sit beside her. For several moments, they sat across from each other on the edge of the twilit roof.

"I wanted more time," he muttered suddenly, breaking the silence. "I've been trying to think of way to say this. To explain how much I need...I mean, I can't—I didn't know..." He wrinkled his nose, looking disgusted with himself for attempting and failing to communicate what it was he wanted to say. His hand, still tangled in his hair, finally dropped from his head, and achingly desperate green eyes latched onto hers. "Are you ever afraid, Ladybug?" he blurted.

She didn't hesitate to respond. "The akumas are becoming stronger. Of course I am afraid."

"I…I'm not afraid of the akumas. I'm not afraid of Hawkmoth."

"Of getting hurt?"

He snorted. "Hardly."

"Chat Noir."

His eyes widened at her reproving tone, and he was quick to throw his hands up in an attempt to mollify her. "No need to throw a hissy fit, Maman." He looked pleased when Marinette shot him an unamused look at the pun, and it almost felt normal until he looked away and mumbled, "I don't need another lecture about throwing my remaining lives around like they're not worth anything. I've gotten enough of those already, I think."

Marinette didn't respond, not even to attempt a scowl or smile at him for calling her out on being a mother-hen. Instead she waited, hoping he'd continue without prompting.

"It's just…getting hurt made me realize…no one notices."

The words were nothing more than a whisper, nearly stolen by the Parisian winds. Marinette almost missed it, and when the full impact of his last three words hit her, she stiffened. "What?"

Chat's smile was self-deprecating. "No one notices," he said. "No one. I…" he looked at her, as though searching for permission to continue. Whatever he saw on her face must have been encouraging, for he plowed on. "There's no one. I'm surrounded by people all the time, but I don't have very many of those to call my own. It feels like it's just me and Plagg. And—and you."

She had suspected he hadn't the best home life for some time now, but this was the first time in the entirety of their partnership that her suspicions had been confirmed. "Oh, Chat—"

He interrupted her, swinging his legs and bouncing his heels off the brick beneath them. "I know that was sort of the point—keeping what happened to me out of the media so that Hawkmoth couldn't take advantage of us. It was important to keep the limelight off my civilian identity, too, especially when we were so vulnerable, and I get it. I do. I did it well. It's just that…my family…" He shook his head, deciding not to finish the thought.

It was enough for Marinette to fill in the blanks.

"And even for the few friends I have who are close," Chat continued, "I've become such a good actor it's scary. I sometimes hate him, the part I have to play for everyone else, and that terrifies me, too, because he's me. He's supposed to be me, I'm supposed to be him, but I…no one knows. It's…It's…"

He inhaled shakily, his voice cracking, and with her heart throbbing with his pain, Ladybug shifted closer to him to lend all her support. "There's no one?" she repeated softly, trying so hard to understand.

"None," he choked.

This life wasn't always easy. It was lonely and grueling, and if she were being honest, it was sometimes thankless. Without Chat and Tikki, she'd be lost. Without her family's unending support, without Alya's kindness? Well, they might not know her as Ladybug, but they were there to keep her sane. They helped her retain some sense of normalcy. Despite her suspicions about what went on in his civilian life, she had thought that Chat was dealing with it all in the same way she was, and it rocked her to the core to realize she had assumed far too much.

Their secrets were tearing him apart, and she couldn't fathom experiencing even a sliver of the desolation he must be feeling. And this was her chaton. Her fun-loving, laughter-filled, hot-headed Chat.

"Even…even you don't know everything, do you?" Chat barked a humorless laugh. "You can't hide it, 'Bug. Even you're looking at me like I should be someone else."

A slash of guilt robbed Marinette of her breath. She couldn't deny it. "Someone did once say that the saddest people smile brightest," she murmured, smiling weakly when he snorted at the cliché. "Knowing that doesn't make it any easier. I'm sorry, Chat."

I haven't been there for you.

He nodded absently and took a steadying breath. "I just—I just keep thinking…what if something happens? What if Hawkmoth gets me? Or the akuma doesn't end up being a nurse like Heidi? What if what little luck I have runs out? What then? I'd never have the chance to really—"

"Don't think like that! We're going to get him, chaton."

"That isn't it. That isn't…" Chat leapt up, tail flicking in his aggravation. "This isn't about us, and it isn't about him! For once in my goddamn life, I'm making this about me. Call me selfish. Call me childish, but I'm terrified that if something happened…no one would know. No one would know what really happened to me and why it happened. No one would understand. And who—" his voice failed him, and the passion from his tirade went with it. He spun on his heel, and looking out over the city, he finished, "—who would even care to?"

Ladybug surged to her feet, and before she knew it, she uttered, "I would."

Wide, guarded green eyes flashed back to her. He truly was a good actor, she noted, but maybe it was a testament to how close they were that she could sense just how much hope was threatening to overwhelm him. "Would you?" he breathed.

A dollop of fear oozed in her belly, her own insecurities rushing ahead of her logic and his needs. Because there was no doubt in her mind that Chat needed this. Desperately. Before things started getting serious, before Dark Cupid's arrow and Timebreaker's touch and Bone Surgeon's tools, she had always thought of Chat as a goof, someone who saw everyday life as his playground. But now, in breathtaking—heart wrenching clarity—she saw through his carefree act. She saw sorrow eating away at the sunshine and laughter that was this amazing boy. She saw his loneliness and his fear that, one day, he would not be remembered, that he'd leave the earth without having made a single mark upon it…or upon someone.

Chat suddenly smiled, his edginess replaced with an odd sort of peace. With a single nod to himself, he stepped forward, taking one of her hands in his. "I'm going to tell you," he said, and her breath caught in her throat. Mistaking her reaction for disapproval, he gently traced comforting circles on the back of her hand with his claws. "Please. I don't expect you to return the favor. I don't want to know if you're not ready, but I need to tell you who I am. For me. Because I don't want to…" He skipped over the word and looked away. "Well, I wouldn't want to go without someone seeing me…for me."

Marinette took a deep breath. She was glad he was the one to jumpstart this conversation, much in the same way he jumpstarted everything in their relationship, because now there was no turning back, no reason to give excuses. She always did work better under pressure. "You don't think I haven't been thinking about this?" she asked softly.

Chat stiffened, looking as though he could hardly believe his ears. "…what?"

"I've been thinking," Ladybug said, "And it's getting too dangerous for us not to know. I keep wondering what we could have done better, what we could have done to prevent you getting hurt…"

"Hold on there, m'lady!" exclaimed Chat, holding up a hand. "If you're attempting to shoulder the blame again for this—"

"No, no. I—maybe," she conceded. "But that's not the point! The point is that there is no reason to hide our identities anymore, is there? If we knew, we can plan better, train better, be better. You're not the only one who wants to be free of this secret. I was selfish to hide from you for so long. I was wrong, and my stupid excuses hindered more than they helped. I see that now, and I trust you, Chat. I trust you with my life, and I'd trust you with my family's and my friends', if it came down to it. It has come down to it."

Silence descended upon the two heroes, the significance of what they had agreed to do crashing over them like a tsunami. She waited in anticipation for his reaction, but of course, Chat wasn't reacting much at all, his shell-shocked expression frozen in time.

Much to her surprise, he ended up laughing. It was nothing like his amused snickers, his whoops of joy, or his true laughter, which was adorkable (though she'd never admit it aloud) and a really rare thing to behold. This laughter was thin, but it was rich with relief, and before she knew it, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Unprepared for his hug attack, Marinette allowed him to lift her and spin her around in a circle.

Who was she kidding? Even if she had expected it, she would have allowed it. Her heart pounded in her ears.

"So you do go to my school!" Chat whispered excitedly as he pulled away, his luminous eyes scanning her face. Ladybug's eyebrows shot up, and he winked. "What else can a cat do but daydream about his lady when he's out of costume? It was pretty easy to figure that much out, especially when approximately sixty-nine percent of the akuma attacks that occurred in the past six months originated at that school…and seventy-four percent of those times you were on scene before I was."

Marinette didn't know where to begin. It was shocking enough to realize those statistics were rather damning, which meant there was a high possibility she and Chat knew each other in their civilian forms, something she had never really anticipated given the size of Paris. After shock came a surge of shame and disbelief at her own obliviousness. Chat was right: it was obvious. So stupidly and mind-blowingly obvious she wanted to kick herself. In the end, there was only thing she couldn't wrap her mind around. "…you calculated…?"

"That's cat-culated, mademoiselle," Chat corrected giddily. "Monsieur Girard isn't exactly stimulating in maths, is he? I find other ways to entertain myself."

Oh my God. Marinette's hand soared to her forehead, and she took a few steadying breaths. He's in my class. He's…

Shards of observation, half-forgotten and long dismissed, began to fit themselves into the greater picture, and an awe-inspiring sense of destiny settled over her.

"My Lady?" Chat asked. Hesitance, fear, and concern had broken his gleeful smile, and in that moment, she would have given anything to have that smile back. "I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean…to push. Or get so overexcited. If you're…if you're not ready, not as comfortable as you thought, it's okay. I can—we can just…"

Ladybug shushed him with a nose boop. "Not likely, you big dork. If you need to reveal your identity, then I need to as well. We're in this together."

Chat's smile was blinding. Marinette's heart swelled to accept its warmth, and there, on that random rooftop in the dusky autumn twilight, she was ready to accept that she loved him with just as—if not more—ferocity as she did Adrien.

And she was surprisingly okay with that.

It felt as though a dozen of Hawkmoth's akumas floated around in her stomach as she looked up at him. He grinned at her—to put her at ease, to reassure her? She didn't know, and swallowing, she grasped his hands.

She couldn't be sure how he'd react to finally learning who it was he placed on so high a pedestal. She couldn't know how she would react to knowing this boy under the mask, the one who inspired her every day to be the hero Paris deserved. Not even two months ago, the utter fear she experienced even thinking about this moment was crippling. The anticipation now was no less nerve-wracking, but it was…somehow bearable. What was there to be afraid of in the end? A few moments of awkward floundering and staring? She could tolerate that: she had plenty of experience in that department with Adrien over the last two years, something she looked back on with red-faced embarrassment now that she and he were such good friends.

What she would not tolerate was losing Chat. Not after everything.

"I can't promise you that this—" she gestured between them, avoiding eye contact "—won't change."

"Together," he reiterated. "It doesn't matter what happens now. We're in this together."

With him looking at her like that—like there was nothing on this earth that could change his opinion of her—she could believe that it would be oath he'd never break.

"Okay," she said, smiling shyly. "Sur trois?"

Chat nodded. "Un."

"…Deux…"

"…Trois."