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He can’t do this.
He stares blankly at the spot where Ladybug stood just moments ago and blinks. The akuma pays him no mind, clearly more focused on the fact that they now have Ladybug trapped in a jar.
Her face is visible, frozen in the same position it had been when she had been giving a plan. He needs to get her out, he can’t do this without her.
Involuntarily, his fist clenches. Chat Noir turns toward the akuma, who now seems to be having a conversation with Hawkmoth.
He doesn’t think, he just lunges, and the urge to use cataclysm is almost overwhelming. He resists though, because she’s stuck in the jar, and the akuma seems ruthless enough to shove it in his path.
He won’t do that to her.
So instead he swings his baton right at the akuma’s head, pretty sure he let out a yell. He needs to be careful, because as previously shown by the akuma, if the jar breaks, she shatters with it.
But then, the akuma waves their hand and the jar vanishes.
“What did you do?” He grips his baton tighter.
“I’d be willing to bring her back for your miraculous. If not, I’ll simply add you to my gallery.” The next jar appears in the akuma’s hand. He won’t let himself become trapped. He’ll save Ladybug.
He thinks about how he didn’t move fast enough, how he couldn’t get in the way of the blast and her. So now he’s got to save her without being able to think like his lady does, without her lucky charm.
He swings the baton again, aiming for the akuma’s chest this time. And it makes contact. They stumble back and he advances forward. He can’t shatter any of the jars around him, limiting his movement. So instead he jumps, trying to slam his baton on their head, to disorient them. He still hasn’t spotted the akumatized object, and he needs to get Ladybug out.
She’s stuck and he can’t do this without her.
He swings his legs at their knees, trying to get them to crumple, giving him a chance to search for the object. Unfortunately, it really only works for a second. They’re down, but the top of the jar is open, aimed at him. He’s dodging, mostly moving on autopilot.
He can only think of her, the way her face looked at him. He thinks about the way her hand had brushed against his arm pushing her. He should have saved her. He needs to save her now. He has to get her out.
Chat Noir lets out a yell of frustration, his hand rising, the words to call his cataclysm on his lips. It’s then the akuma grins and the jar with his lady is back in their hands.
He clenches his fist, skidding to a stop.
“What’s the matter, worried about hitting someone on accident?” The akuma taunts. The jar with her trapped in it is too much. The way the akuma tosses it back and forth, almost like it’s nothing, like she’s nothing.
He sees red and starts running again.
“Cataclysm!” He yells, dropping into a skid and pressing his hand against the glove that the akuma had been summoning the jars from.
It turns to dust under his hand and all of the jars shatter, people appearing in a bright flash in their place. He sits as the black and purple butterfly moves out of the ash, the familiar sound of a yo-yo snapping around it doing little to break his exhaustion.
“Bye bye little butterfly,” A soft voice, her voice. “Miraculous Ladybug!”
He lifts his head up, studying her as she stands in the sun. No longer stuck in that same stupid pose, making the same scared face in that jar. Instead, she’s looking at him, her brows furrowed, hands on her hips. Her hair is in its signature pigtails, and he just keeps staring, keeps looking at her.
“My lady.” He’s not sure what breaks his stupor, but he’s scrambling off the ground, launching himself at her. She catches him with ease, her arms going around his shoulders as he buries his face in her neck.
“Pound it?” She squeaks, her hands moving towards his hair. “I think we should probably take this somewhere else.”
He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that they are likely surrounded by reporters and civilians alike, something he’s become used to, but he doesn’t feel as okay with it now. He nods into her shoulder, pulling away.
She nods back to him, unlatching her yo-yo from her hip and swinging off towards the rooftops. He reaches for his baton, following her. He’s not ready to be alone now.
—-
Eventually the two land on their rooftop. It’s not really their rooftop, but in every way it matters, it is. It’s where he sees her become carefree, it’s where they meet for patrol, it’s where some of his favorite memories with his lady take place.
“Are you alright?” Is the first thing out of her mouth, her hand reaching out gently to grasp his forearm. He almost feels the warmth despite their suits, and he wishes that he could really feel it.
“I’m okay now.” He mumbles, not really making eye contact. He almost thinks she’ll vanish if he looks up.
“Chaton?” Her hand reaches out, cupping his cheek, and he leans into the touch.
“I should have saved you,” He whispers, closing his eyes. “You were trapped because of me.”
She pulls him closer, and he’s able to just lean against her, listen to her heartbeat. It’s steady and comforting and constant.
“That’s not true, it was a misstep. And you brought me back.” She cards a hand through his hair, and it’s soothing. He feels like he can breathe again.
“But you-”
“I’m not leaving you.” She promises, and Chat Noir almost feels like he could cry. She’s here. She’s warm and solid and here and not stuck in that stupid jar.
“I know,” He whispers. He pulls back, studying her, and notes her eyes scanning him. Clearly she’s still worried. “I’m feeling better Buginette.”
“You can tell me how you’re feeling.” Her hand is cupping his cheek again. At some point, they moved to sitting on the roof, and she’s wrapped her legs around him, somehow nearly sitting on top of him.
“Really. Now that you’re okay, and not trapped in the jar.” He reaches out, lightly tapping her pigtails.
She grabs at his hand, lacing her fingers with his. He presses her knuckles against his mouth, brushing a soft kiss against them.
“I’m not leaving.” She’s looking at him again, just watching. Maybe he’s not the only one afraid the other will vanish.
“Neither am I.” He says.
“Well now you know how I feel when you sacrifice yourself during akuma attacks.” It sounds like a joke, but he knows it’s not.
“It’s awful.” He confirms, letting her lean against his chest this time.
“Does that mean you’re done with it?” She asks, her head tilting up as she makes eye contact with him.
“If you never let yourself get trapped again.” He whispers. She nods once.
“The same goes for you.”