Eight-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng woke with a start in the middle of the night.

The wind howled outside, and rain pounded against the windows of her small but cozy attic bedroom. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and glanced at the alarm clock that sat on her desk. The bright red numbers read 12:13 AM. She sat still for a moment, wondering why she had woken up, then jumped out of bed when she remembered the reason - it was because she had heard a loud thump come from downstairs. It couldn't have been her parents - they were heavy sleepers and usually didn't wake up until morning. So what could that noise have been?

A small voice in the back of her head protested that she should be a good girl and stay put. Who knew what had happened down there? What if someone had broken in? What if... what if it was Chat Noir? She shuddered, just thinking about him. Chat Noir, a mysterious young man donned in a black suit that paid homage to his name, was a thief and Paris's number one wanted criminal who worked alone to cause havoc on the city. Just that evening, she had heard on the news how he had been involved in a street fight and had gotten away with it. And right now, he could be anywhere.

But she couldn't help but be curious. And besides, what were the odds of him ever stealing from her family's tiny bakery, right? It wasn't like her family had a lot of money. They made enough to get by, but they weren't rich. They definitely weren't the type of people a thief like Chat Noir would be interested in. She snorted. Yeah, like he would ever show up here. Making up her mind, she took a deep breath and tiptoed to the door. She pushed it open as gently as she could, then sneaked down the two flights of stairs that led to the bakery, also known as the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, on the first floor. She held her breath as she unlocked the door, careful not to make even a single noise.

The familiar bakery, complete with a few round tables and a large glass display counter, was completely dark, and the silence that greeted her made the room feel almost eerie. With a trembling hand, she switched on the flashlight she'd grabbed from her desk and shone it around the room. Everything looked normal, as though her parents had just cleaned up for the day and had left to go upstairs not even a minute ago. Just as how it should be.

She was about to give up and turn back - telling herself how ridiculous she was to even expect that there was anything there - when her gaze fell on a body collapsed on the floor by the front door. She froze, her mind whirling as she debated on what she should do.

When she saw that he wasn't moving, she inched closer, shining the light in the person's face to inspect them. In the dark, she couldn't quite tell whether they were a man or woman, only that they had a rather thin but strong build. But as she got a better look, she almost dropped the flashlight in terror as she took in his dark suite and messy blond hair. She could recognize that outfit anywhere.

Her blood ran cold.

It was Chat Noir.

She opened her mouth to scream, but quickly thought better of it. If she screamed, he could wake up. But if she backed away now, he wouldn't even notice her...

That was when she became aware of the sharp tang of blood mixed with the usually sweet aroma of the bakery. Her stomach churned. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

She peered closer at him, gasping when she saw that blood was pouring out from a nasty wound close to his stomach. She couldn't see his expression behind the black mask, but if she could, she knew it must be twisted in pain. Feeling brave, she took a step closer to him.

Chat Noir lifted his head when he heard her approach him. His pained eyes made her stop dead in her tracks. "Who's there?" He growled, still sounding intimidating despite the pain from his injuries. He whipped his head around to study his surroundings, stopping when he spotted Marinette lingering by the corner. "You...you're a girl," he muttered awkwardly. Was she imagining it, or did his voice soften just a little when he noticed her?

"I'm a girl. How wonderful for you to notice," Marinette said dryly.

His piercing green eyes narrowed into slits as he studied her. But Marinette wasn't scared. Maybe it was because he was hurt, or maybe it was because she was curious about him. She lifted her chin defiantly and gazed back at him.

Finally, after a few painful moments, he broke the silence and took a ragged breath. "I'm not going to hurt you, little girl. I...can you let me stay here just for a few minutes? I won't bother you at all. Just a few minutes, then I'll be on my way. It'll be like we had never met."

Marinette hesitated. She knew that the sensible thing to do would be to call the police, and then they can finally capture Chat Noir and lock him behind bars. But if he got locked away, she would never get a chance to talk to him. She didn't know why, but she didn't want that.

"Are you bad?" She blurted, unable to stop herself. Everyone said he was dangerous. Even her teachers at school had taught her to be wary of criminals, and not to go out after dark in case Chat Noir attacked them. But meeting him tonight, he didn't seem as bad as the tabloids painted him out to be. And he appeared only a few years older than her - was he fifteen? Sixteen? She wondered what brought him down this path.

He remained silent, as though he was deciding how to answer her question. Then he shrugged, wincing as he did so. "I'm as worse as they get," he let out a humorless laugh. His hand tightened into a fist, the claw-like knives attached to his gloves gleaming under the dim light. "I'm a criminal, little girl. Haven't your parents taught you to stay away from bad guys like me?"

She took a step forward. "But you didn't hurt me," she pointed out. She knew he could've killed her if he wanted to - there had been so many chances that he could've taken - yet he hadn't. That had to be saying something, right? "I don't think you're bad. And I'm not a little girl," she pouted, making a face at him. She wasn't a little girl anymore. She had just turned eight. Her parents had thrown her the best birthday party and had baked her a cake so huge that even the Mayor's daughter, Chloe Bourgeois, would have been jealous of.

Chat Noir barked out a laugh. Marinette decided that he was much less scary when he was smiling. "That's what you're worried about, eh? Well, what if I call you little lady?"

She shot him her best glare. "I have a name, you know. It's Marinette. And I'm going to help you. So wait right there." Her Maman had always taught her to be kind to others, and she was going to help him even if it was the last thing she did. She didn't want to see him, to see anyone, get hurt.

He closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. "I'm not going anywhere, little lady." He added, just to rub it in. She stuck her tongue out at him before she hurried back to her room to find her sewing kit.

Marinette had always held a love for fashion. Her favorite hobby was sketching designs of pretty dresses and cute outfits in her sketchbook. Her mother had gotten her a sewing kit for her birthday, and she absolutely loved using it to make her designs come to life. But she wasn't planning to use it to make a dress now. She recalled an incident her parents had had in the kitchen last year when her father had cut his hand in the bakery. Her mother had used thread to stitch his wound together...perhaps that was what she had to do help Chat Noir.

She grabbed the kit and headed to the bathroom to find her towel. Marinette had always been known to be super clumsy, constantly getting hurt one way or another, and her mother had always cleaned her injuries with a wet towel before treating it. She was glad she had that knowledge now. She took the towel, red and black with ladybugs flying across, and soaked it in water before she practically flew down the stairs in her haste to return to the bakery. She stopped by the door, panting, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw that he was still there, just as he had promised.

"You're still here," she echoed her thoughts out loud.

He turned toward her at the sound of her voice. "Told ya I'd still be here. Chat Noir never goes back on his word." His voice sounded strained. Marinette guessed that he had lost a lot of blood. She didn't need to be a doctor to know that that wasn't good.

"How did you get hurt?" she couldn't help asking as she walked closer to him, clutching her sewing kit to her chest.

He grunted, watching her warily as he tried to figure out what she was going to do. "That doesn't concern you."

"It does concern me when you're here, bleeding, inside my house. How did you even get in here anyway?" she retorted. She didn't know how to take the fact that Chat Noir, Paris's most wanted criminal, had decided to break into her house just so he could get some rest while he was injured.

"I...I broke in? Your house's security system isn't the best. Tell your parents to get a better lock." he advised with a smirk. His expression darkened as he continued, "But take my word, little lady. There are some things in this world that you're better off not knowing."

"Oh," Marinette mumbled reluctantly. She wasn't ready to give up, but she knew they had more serious matters to deal with. "Anyway, I'm going to help you. Can you take off your clothes?"

He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What are you going to do?"

"You lost a lot of blood, right? I'm going to stitch your wound up," she said proudly. She didn't dare tell him that she had never stitched a wound before, but she had to try.

"Do you even know how to sew?" he asked skeptically.

"I love to design and make clothes, of course I would know how to sew!" Marinette said indignantly.

He hesitated, then unzipped his suit and slipped it off. "Well, it's worth a shot, I suppose" he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Marinette's breath caught as she stared at the wound. She had predicted that it would be bad, but she hadn't realized just how deep and awful it was. She gulped. What if she messed up and made things even worse?

She almost jumped when Chat Noir leaned closer to her and caught her hand in his. She hadn't noticed how hard her hand was shaking until he took it in his own. "It's okay, little lady. You don't have to do this. I've rested enough. I'll just be on my way - "

"No!" she protested. He was clearly treating her like a child, but she was already eight years old. She wasn't a child anymore. "Let me help you!" Determined, she took a deep breath. She gently placed the towel over the wound to clean off the blood - it was instantly soaked - before setting it onto the table next to her and getting to work. Her hand dug through the sewing kit, her eyes lighting up when she located the spool of thread. But then she frowned. How much thread would she need to stitch up the wound?

Marinette thought back to when her mother had helped her father fix his wound. She had cut quite a long piece. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to use a longer piece of string, just in case. Making up her mind, she cut the appropriate length of string and expertly thread the tip through the needle's eye. She was painfully aware of Chat Noir's eyes following her every move. She quickly secured the thread and knelt down next to him, her hand hovering over the wound as she tried to figure out where to start. She hesitated. She didn't want to hurt him further by piercing his skin with the needle.

"It's okay," Chat Noir said quietly. He covered her hand with his own and guided her hand to the tip of the long gash. Marinette's heart thudded as she struggled to push the needle in. Even with his help, it was definitely a lot harder than she thought. He gritted his teeth as the point of the needle came in contact with his flesh, making Marinette stop and stare at him with wide bluebell eyes. What if she had hurt him? "I'm okay," he repeated, dismissing her concern. "Go on."

Now that she had gotten the hang of it, Marinette began working her way along the wound, carefully stitching it close with the thread. She let out the breath she had been holding once she reached the end and tied the string off with a double knot. Just in case.

"Nice work, little lady," Chat Noir praised, a real smile dancing on the edge of his lips. He gingerly touched the wound with his hand. "I feel much better thanks to you."

She grinned, revealing the tooth she had just lost a few days ago. "I told you I'm good at sewing."

"Well, what do ya know. I suppose you are. Maybe one day I'll get to wear the clothes that you'll design." He slipped his suit back on and pushed himself up. He staggered a little as he stood, still weak from the loss of blood, but leaned against the counter to help support his weight.

She felt warmed by his praise. It was then that she knew that she would become a fashion designer when she grew up no matter what it took, just so he could wear the clothes that she would design one day.

"Are you leaving now?" she asked, watching him curiously.

He nodded. "I said I wouldn't stay long. I don't want to trouble you any further. Besides, I am a thief. I shouldn't just be hanging out with a little lady like yourself, right?"

She knew he had a point, but she didn't want him to leave. Not yet. There were so many questions she still wanted to ask. But now she may never get that chance...

"Wait!" she said as an idea flashed in her mind. She headed to the back of the kitchen for the tray of leftover macarons that she knew would still be laid out in the fridge. She took the tray and brought it back out, holding it up for Chat Noir. "Here, have some. They're leftovers from the day so they could be a little stale, but that's all we have right now. Maman always said that sweets make you feel better."

"Well, then, I suppose I will," Chat Noir said, looking at them thoughtfully.

"Oh! The top ones are vanilla, that one's strawberry, and this one is passion fruit," Marinette said quickly when she saw that he was hesitating. He picked the passion fruit one - his favorite flavor is passion fruit, Marinette noted in the back of her mind - and popped it into his mouth, relishing in its taste. "Mmm. Delicious."

Marinette beamed at him, feeling proud at the thought that Chat Noir liked their macarons. He paused, as though he was debating something, then took off the ring that he wore on his middle finger. "Thank you. I owe you one, little lady. I...I want you to have this."

He placed the ring in her outstretched hands. Marinette gasped as she studied the ring that now sat in her palm. It was black with a green paw print design in the center. To her, it was beautiful.

"This is my symbol," he explained. "Other criminals wouldn't dare touch you when you're under my protection. And if you ever get in trouble...just call for me. I'll be there." He fumbled through his pockets for a few moments, then made a noise of satisfaction as he found a receipt in his back pocket and scribbled down a number on it. He pressed it into her hand.

"Promise?" Marinette asked, wrapping her hands around the tiny piece of paper as though it was the most precious thing in the world. She held up her pinky to him.

"Thieves' code. Chat Noir never breaks his word," he reassured her, taking his own pinky and hooking it through hers. He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head. "And who knows? Maybe I'll call you by your name next time when we meet." He winked and gave her a wave, and then he was gone.

Marinette stared after him, feeling giddy at the thought that she would see him again one day. She tried to put on the ring, but gave up when she realized that it was too big for her small fingers. Maybe she would wear it as a necklace instead.

Light shone through the bakery's windows, breaking her out of her reverie. Sunrise! Her eyes widened.

She hadn't realized how fast time had passed. Without a second glance at the door, she turned and quickly cleaned up the mess, then dashed back upstairs to try and get some sleep before she had to get ready for school.

It was definitely going to be a long day...

A/N: I'm a sucker for thief!Chat Noir and Marichat stories, and couldn't stop myself from coming up with another story idea /shot. Hope you like it! Leave a review if you think it's worth continuing? :)