7. Red Like Roses

A/N: Hi, wonderful readers. So...this terribleness happened. I swear, the initial drafts had a happy (uh, happier?) ending. But, as you probably know, sometimes writing doesn't go the way you want. It takes on a life of its own. And this story just needed to be told.

A quick warning - there are mentions of injuries/blood, but nothing above the T rating. And I do not own the quotes from Hamlet, they belong to Shakespeare.

If you have story idea requests, let me know! Otherwise, enjoy. I'll put together something happy for the next chapter, promise.

Red Like Roses: Ladybug gets injured during a fight, and Chat Noir races to get her to the hospital. Their time is running out, not just for her secret, but also for her life.

This was one night Chat Noir would never forget. It was the night of the roses.

It was a lazy summer night, but he was sprinting down the sidewalk. The street was cleared around him to prevent civilians from getting caught in the battle, but he could hear sirens blaring behind him. The lamp lights cast eerie yellow glows onto the sidewalk, but he was seeing in only black and white and red.

They'd just saved the city from another attack, but he was losing Ladybug with every moment he wasn't at her side.

He pushed himself harder, almost wheezing with the effort. The slash on his leg was still bleeding and it took everything he had not to limp, but he kept on running until he found where she lay.

He crumpled to the ground beside her, breathing hard. "Can you hear me?" he asked, touching her cheek gently. "I'm going to get you to the hospital. You're going to be okay, okay?" He said it just as much for himself as it was for her.

His heart leapt as her eyes fluttered open. Even in this current situation, her eyes could still disarm him. They were the kind of blue that swirled like the ocean, constantly making him feel like he was in motion. Like he was falling.

"What happened?" she whispered. She tried to sit up but gasped in pain. Chat put a hand to her shoulder and made her lie back down.

"Don't try to move, you got hurt fighting Knifeblade. Do you remember?"

She nodded slowly, her hand going to her side. Chat knew what was there. He'd seen it all happen. She hadn't been quick enough to dodge the razor. But he couldn't look directly at the wound. It was gruesome. He knew it was bad. Really bad.

Where was that ambulance? His heart was pounding. If they weren't here soon, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Ladybug's eyes started to close again. He tapped her cheeks to wake her up.

"No, my lady! You're going to pull through, just stay awake."

She gave him a sleepy smile. "To sleep, perchance to dream."

"No, no sleeping. Stay with me." Chat's green eyes were wide and alert. He wondered if she could tell he was scared.

She laughed a little, but then stopped, wincing. "It's Hamlet, silly. I have a test tomorrow…on…Hamlet."

"I don't think you're going to be taking any tests anytime soon," he said, getting more and more worried. Usually Ladybug was so careful about her identity. She'd never told him anything like this before. He never knew what her alter-ego was up to.

Some distant, unimportant thought occurred to him. Didn't he have a test on Hamlet tomorrow?

But that thought was swept away almost instantly. He couldn't worry about that now. Ladybug was injured and it was his fault and the ambulance wasn't getting here fast enough. One look at her pale face told him she'd already lost a lot of blood.

"Okay, I'm going to pick you up. We're going to the hospital."

Her eyes widened in fear. "No, I'm about to de-transform!"

Chat took a hesitant look at her side and his heart fell into his stomach. "My lady, right now, your life is more important than any secret. And, right now, it's critically hanging in the balance."

He braced her head and neck against his right shoulder as he sat her up. She gave a sharp gasp as he picked up her legs with his left arm, and tensed as he lifted her up from the ground.

"I'm trying to be gentle, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He couldn't stop saying it. She clung to him with all her might as he dashed through busy streets and nimbly jumped from steps to ledges to balconies to rooftops. He could feel her warm blood running onto his arms – the gravest reminder that their time was running out.

They were nearly there when Ladybug's costume became normal clothes. The mask around her eyes disappeared, and it became very obvious who Chat was holding.

He was so surprised he nearly dropped her. Of all the times to make this sort of discovery, Chat wished it had been one with more kissing and less blood. But he didn't get to pick the story. Sometimes things ended in tragedy. Just like Hamlet.

But he quelled his emotions. He could sort out his own feelings later, once she was getting the help she desperately needed. Because if he didn't make it in time, Marinette, the love of his life, was going to die in his arms.

Chat knew he had only seconds left before he changed back, so he made sure that he was back on solid ground – without his catlike agility, he'd never be able to get down from a balcony or ledge while holding Marinette.

His own disguise expired just as he crossed the street to the hospital and Plagg appeared at his shoulder, drooping and exhausted. Thankfully, his kwami knew better than to say anything – the situation was too serious for him to start cracking jokes.

As he sprinted, Adrien looked down at Marinette, whose eyes were closed again.

"No, stay awake, you can do it," he cried, hardly able to breathe. "Marinette! Don't do this to me."

She opened her eyes to see Adrien, not Chat Noir. Her face contorted with pain. "You were in my dream. You were Chat...am I still dreaming?"

"If only," he said grimly. "We're nearly there, just hold on."

"I…I…"

She seemed to be trying to say something, but one look at her face told him something was terribly wrong. Adrien raced through the sliding doors, shouting someone please somebody help me please the girl I love is dying. But as commotion swirled around him and nurses ran in different directions gathering supplies for Marinette, he wondered if maybe he was too late. She was already limp in his arms.

He looked down at her, and her ocean eyes swallowed him up again. She was deathly pale – almost grey. She lifted a bloody hand and touched his cheek.

"You're an angel," she said softly. Adrien blinked, his vision blurring. Her hand slipped back to her side - her strength was giving out. Adrien felt tears drip down his cheeks.

"You can't leave – please, I can't do this without you. Any of it. I need you!"

"Find another Ladybug," she whispered, her head resting against his chest. "Take the earrings…" He felt her pass them into his hand.

"No, no, don't! Marinette! I love you." He said it without thinking, but she responded with, "I love you too," before he even realized what had happened. They shared a sad silence, and then the nurses arrived with a gurney.

"Goodbye," she whispered as they lifted her from his arms. Then her ocean eyes closed and stayed closed.

They told him an hour later that he'd been only moments too late.

Adrien stayed in the hospital waiting room, alone, for a very long time after she was gone.

The waiting room had been closed to the press and the healthy public to ensure privacy. Through the lamplit glass doors, he could see people holding lit candles and bouquets of roses. They were scattering the petals onto the ground outside the hospital.

The roses were red– so red they looked like blood. And Adrien found himself staring at the petals with a pained expression – he knew they could see inside the hospital but were unable to enter, unable to help. Yet they were dedicatedly holding a night vigil with as many flowers as they could muster. They were enduring.

But how could he?

He didn't know where to go from here. The hospital staff had bandaged his wounds, and then they'd told him he could stay in the quiet shelter of the waiting room as long as he needed to. Adrien sat rigidly in the black plastic chair staring at Ladybug's earrings, which lay innocently in his palm. He hadn't changed out of his bloodstained clothes or washed up at all. He could still smell her perfume – honeysuckle – and he could still feel her warm hand on his cheek. He didn't want to wash all that away. Not yet. Once that scent was gone, he'd never catch it again.

His face was still covered with blood and salt water and grime. But underneath all of it, underneath his Chat Noir mask and underneath his very skin, he was just a boy going through the unimaginable. He was a boy with the worst luck. He was a boy covered in blood that wasn't his own. He was the boy with superpowers that still couldn't save his friend. And now he was burdened with another task – he'd have to choose a new Ladybug.

Passing on her earrings was more than just giving someone superpowers – he understood that now. It was about choosing someone who could continue Marinette's legacy. It was putting someone else in danger. It was inviting someone else into the part of his life he'd always guarded.

Adrien and Marinette finally knew the truth about each other, but he was the one who'd be around to work through it all alone. She had gone to sleep - to dream. And he was living in a nightmare.

A teacher had once told him, The heart is a rose; blossoming with love, withering with loss, but always ready to bloom anew when the time is right. But at this moment, on the night of roses, Adrien knew nothing would bloom in his heart for a very long time.