Chapter Text
The streets of Paris slept beneath a quiet veil of moonlight, the city’s hum dimmed to a hush. For most, the night was peaceful. But for Cat Noir, the night was never still.
Patrolling alone tonight, he moved across the rooftops with the casual grace of someone who’d done it a hundred times. The quiet usually helped him think, distracted him from the constant pull of expectations—school, his father, the loneliness he wore like a second skin.
Until he heard it. A sound too soft to be wind. A breath. A sob.
He landed silently on a low rooftop and tilted his head. There. In the alley below. A sharp intake of breath, a choked whimper.
Cat Noir narrowed his eyes and dropped soundlessly into the alley.
At first, he didn’t see her—just the shifting shadows of the narrow passage. But as he stepped forward, the scent of stale alcohol hit him like a slap, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps storming away.
Then he saw her. Huddled between a dumpster and a stone wall, a girl with her arms over her head, curled in on herself like she was trying to disappear.
His heart stopped.
She was trembling violently. Thin, bruised arms wrapped around her knees. Her brown hair was tangled and dirty, partially hiding her face. A ripped backpack lay nearby, its contents spilled and stepped on.
"Hey..." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "You're safe now."
She flinched, scrambling backward until her back hit the wall.
"I’m not going to hurt you," he said quickly, raising both hands. “I promise.”
She looked up for just a moment—there was a flicker of familiarity in her haunted grey eyes.
“Did someone hurt you?” he asked gently.
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She shook her head rapidly, but he saw the fear in her eyes.
Cat Noir’s ears twitched. A creak behind him—someone returning. A low voice cursing under their breath.
He turned just in time to catch sight of a man stumbling into the alley, clutching a cracked bottle in one hand, dragging his coat like it was made of lead. The moment he saw Cat Noir, his expression twisted into something mean and ugly.
“This isFamily business.” the man growled, pointing the bottle like a weapon. “Don’t get involved.”
Cat Noir stepped in front of the girl, his baton already in hand.
“You just made it my business.”
The man lunged, but Cat Noir was faster. With a single clean movement, he knocked the bottle aside and sent the man crashing into a pile of garbage bags. He groaned, dazed.
Cat Noir grabbed his communicator. “Ladybug, I’ve got a civilian in danger—domestic abuse. Sending location. Please alert the police.”
“Acknowledged,” came the quiet reply. She didn’t ask questions—she knew when he was serious.
He turned back to the girl, crouching in front of her again. “He’s not going to hurt you anymore. The police are on their way.”
This time, she looked up. Really looked.
That’s when it hit him like a slap.
“...Natasha?” he breathed.
She flinched, her lips parted, but no sound came out. She was pale and shaking, clearly in shock.
He knew what the police would do. Take her to a shelter, maybe. Question her. Let her fall through the cracks. That wasn’t enough. Not this time.
“I’m taking you somewhere safe,” he said.
She didn’t move. Just watched him with those hollow, frightened eyes. He stepped closer, slowly extended his hand.
“Will you come with me?”
After a long moment, she nodded.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the Agreste estate. Cat Noir stayed to the rooftops as long as possible, only dropping to ground level when the lights of his family’s mansion came into view.
She was silent the whole way, clutching his jacket like it was a lifeline. He could feel how cold she was.
When they finally reached the gates, and she swayed as he placed her down.
“Just a little farther,” he said, looping an arm around her shoulders. “You’re almost safe.”
But she didn’t respond. Her legs gave out—and she collapsed.
“Natasha!” he caught her just in time, cradling her against his chest.
Her breathing was shallow, her skin clammy.
There was no time to think.
He ducked behind a tree, whispered, “Plagg, claws in.”
The light of transformation glowed and vanished.
Adrien Agreste sprinted up the front steps, the girl limp in his arms.
“Nathalie!” he shouted, kicking open the door. “Father!”
The foyer flooded with light. Nathalie appeared almost instantly, tablet in hand. Her eyes widened as she saw the girl.
“She collapsed,” Adrien said, trying to catch his breath. “I found her just outside the gate. I—I don’t know what happened.”
Gabriel appeared at the top of the stairs, his robe pristine, his expression unreadable.
“Adrien, what is the meaning of this?”
“I found her on the street,” Adrien lied smoothly, desperation laced in every word. “I didn’t know what else to do—she needs help. Please.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed as he descended the stairs. His gaze landed on Natasha’s bruised cheek and the torn collar of her sweater. Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
“She needs medical attention,” Nathalie said at once, her voice tight.
“We can’t just send her away,” Adrien added quickly. “Not until we know she’s safe.”
Gabriel said nothing for a long moment.
Then, finally: “Put her in the guest room. Nathalie, call a doctor. Discreetly.”
Adrien didn’t waste a second. He carried Natasha down the hallway, heart pounding, and gently laid her on the bed. Nathalie followed moments later with blankets, water, and antiseptic.
Adrien sat beside the bed, staring down at her pale face. Her brows were furrowed even in unconsciousness, like she was still fighting to survive.
He felt something twist in his chest.
“I should’ve noticed,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “She’s in my class. I saw her every day.”
“Children like her rarely lets on what’s happening at home” Nathalie said quietly as she set a cool cloth to Natasha’s forehead.
Adrien grasped the sleeping girl’s hand, his jaw tight.
“Will she be okay?” he asked.
“She’s stable for now,” Nathalie said. “The doctor will be here within the hour.”
Adrien stayed where he was, one hand gripping hers like a life line.
“Adrien,” his father’s voice came from the doorway. “May I have a word?”
He stood, reluctantly following Gabriel into the hall.
“This is not a normal situation,” his father said quietly. “Bringing a girl into our home without alerting authorities could have serious consequences.”
“I know,” Adrien said. “But I couldn’t just leave her.”
Gabriel studied his son for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.
“Very well. She’ll remain here for now.”
Adrien blinked in surprise. He had expected resistance. Cold dismissal. But his father’s voice was… subdued.
“Thank you,” he said.
Gabriel turned without a word and walked away.
Later that night, Adrien returned to Natasha’s room. She hadn’t moved. The doctor had cleaned her wounds and given her something to help her rest. Nathalie had left a light on.
Adrien pulled up a chair and sat beside her again.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like Cat Noir. He didn’t feel like Adrien Agreste. He just felt… helpless.
But one thing was certain.
He would protect her. No matter what it took.