A Masked Mistake

With Tired Eyes, Tired Minds, Tired Souls, We Slept [28: Realisations]

"Marinette?" Chat Noir cradled her head into his lap as her body lay limp over top of his legs. "Marinette? Princess? Come on, speak to me."

He stroked a hand through her hair noticing how her skin had begun to turn steely grey, and a slight sweat sheen was taking over her forehead. She needed medical attention and fast. Keeping her cradled in one arm, he reached around his back aiming for his baton, the tremble of fear making it a lot more difficult than intended.

It took him a few attempts to grasp it before dialling the right number.

"Do you need any help?" A new voice sounded in the alleyway and Chat Noir noticed an older lady with a young boy.

They approached him cautiously, the woman slowly lowering herself to settle beside him, her hand coming to rest upon his forearm attempting to steady his movements. "Can we help in any way?"

"Can you just," he took a deep breath, closing his eyes to control his breathing, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Now was not the time for him to have a panic attack, not when his almost certain wife was laying in his arms unconscious. "Could you just speak to the hospital and let them know Chat Noir is bringing someone in?"

He handed the baton over for her to talk to the medics as he begged for his best friend (his wife) to wake up. How had they gotten to this point? He was sure this was his fault? He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her, he would never forgive himself! He'd only just realised the depths of his feelings and he'd already screwed it up; he should have pushed her to see the doctor, been more concerned and caring.

This must be some sick joke. Maybe she was pulling a prank on him? She liked pranks, she was a prank queen afterall! She was getting him back for being so insensitive, yes - definitely. Only he knew that was a lie. She wasn't getting him back; she was sick. He was losing her, and he knew it.

He stroked his claws through her hair as he studied her ashen face; the face which meant the world and more to him. His knees began to ache, yet he didn't want to move her in fear of making her worse, he needed to protect her, his job was to protect her. God he just wanted her to spring up and tell him what a doofus he was for believing it, that she could act like a statue too.

"Hey, sweet girl, you need to wake up. Come on Marinette, please." His nose was tingling and voice breaking as he tried to speak to her, coaxing her to come around and back to him.

"Are you her next of kin?" The woman holding his phone asked, looking between the two of them. The way he was cradling her, he wasn't surprised that had been brought up.

"Oh - um - no, yes, I - um - maybe? No, I'm just a friend." As soon as he said it his heart constricted, he hated having to lie, but he couldn't exactly say he was her husband. All Paris knew the heroes were married, it wouldn't take long for the woman to place two and two together and sell their identities to the press. So for now, Marinette was his friend, his friend who he needed to get to hospital asap.

"Okay." The woman continued talking to the paramedics, every now and then looking down to check on Marinette. "They want to know if you can feel a pulse?"

Chat moved around, pressing his fingers to her neck before counting slowly back from 20, yes there was a pulse but it was faint and the gaps between each were far too long for his liking.

"Yes, but it's not regular."

He heard the woman relay that down the phone before asking him another question then another then another. This was going on too long, he just needed to know someone would be there when he brought her in. Grabbing his baton from the woman a little more aggressively than he should have, he placed it to his ear and spoke into the microphone.