Miraculous Reveals and More (A collection of One-Shots)

Shot in the Dark (3589 words)

She can't look away. The true pain of her injury forces its way through her initial shock.

Burning. A searing heat burns through her core, radiating outwards in pulsing waves. Her hands pressed against the entrance and exit point of the bullet instinctively, just now realizing that blood was seeping down the front of her suit as well.

She almost doesn't notice the half dozen hands easing her down onto the sidewalk. On her knees, concerned faces tower above her, all unsure of what to do. Voices ask her what they can do to help, one voice seems to be on the phone with paramedics, another telling police their location.

But one voice cuts through this cacophony.

"What's going on here? Is everyone alright?"

Hidden by a wall of people, she musters enough strength to yelp out "C-Chat-" his name scrapes along her dry throat, adding to the spreading fire inside her. Even the subtle movements involved in speaking cause her wound to burn; her fingers unable to hold the sticky warmth inside her.

It seems almost instantaneous that her personal wall of people is dissipated by Chat. It's almost as instantaneous as the way his face changes from hopeful to horrified. Silhouetted against a streetlight, Ladybug can't tell the full extent to which his face contorted in pain and confusion. This only worsens when her weak, ironic, smile falls back into a grimace.

He swears he's had a nightmare just like this. It's THE nightmare that usually plays out the nights after particularly close fights. Sure, in Akuma fights they'd sustained a few rare cuts and scrapes that were always healed up by the Miraculous Cure. But now there's no Lucky Charm.

And he's never seen this much blood before.

She always scolded him for taking hits for her, for being overprotective when he fully understood that she didn't need it. He can't help himself. He'd never admitted it out loud, because he knew it'd make her uncomfortable, but long ago he swore in his heart that he would die for her if required. To him, it was impossible to think that the world could simply go on spinning if Ladybug did not walk its surface or breathe its air.

He wasn't sure if the world deserved her, but she deserved the world.

But right now, his love was growing pale under the indifferent, buzzing, streetlights.

Ladybug reaches up to him with a bloodied hand, barely extending it past her chin before Chat takes the hint.

As if she were made of porcelain, he carefully scoops her up into his arms; careful not to twist or put pressure on her unnecessarily. Once up, he easily holds her with one arm while the other grabs his baton. The crowd doesn't say a word as Chat smoothly extends his baton to get them off the street and going in the direction of the hospital.

Once a few blocks away, Ladybug taps his shoulder to stop. When he doesn't, she grunts softly, more urgently motioning for him to stop.

He lays her out on the next flat roof, her head elevated on his knee. Her right side is almost completely blood-soaked now and he can tell her breathing is labored. "We need to get you to the hospital," he says, keeping his tone as level as he can manage and failing. He knows she's trying to stay strong, show a brave face, because that's who she is. But that also tended to make her unreliable when it came to situations when she truly required help.

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head ever so slightly, "I can't go to the hospital" she takes a deep breath, readying herself to say something she'd obviously thought about in case something like this ever happened, "Either I g-go as Ladybug and my transfo-rrmation drops and I'm revealed, or I go as my c-civilian self and my parents and the rest of the ci-city draw its own conclusions after the headlines read 'Ladybug Shot On The East Side Last Night'" she grits her teeth and takes several short breaths.