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Ladybug landed discreetly by the back entrance of the bakery, carrying the still unconscious Chat Noir in her arms. Peeking her head into the house and finding the coast clear, she slipped in and gingerly propped Chat up against the wall, careful not to slip on the slick, wet floor. Releasing her transformation, she immediately missed the increased strength and energy that her superhero form bestowed upon her, leaving fatigue and listlessness in its stead.

Tikki flew into the back of her shirt to hide. Poking her head out, she whispered, "Are you ready, Marinette?"

The latter replied sarcastically as she squeezed the excess water from her hair, "Oh sure, no problem! I'll just pop in and say, 'Hey, Mom and Dad, I found a stray! Can I keep him? He's litter trained! Pretty please??' Yeahhhh, that'll work for sure." She grimaced, wrinkling her nose.

Tikki giggled, patting her wielder's shoulder. "Trust your instincts, Marinette. Your parents will understand."

Marinette exhaled, cocking her head to the side wearily. "Not like we have a choice." She squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath in. "Here we go."

The door to the Dupain-Cheng living area opened with a small creak. The subtle smell of pastries and oolong tea wafted through the air, familiar and sweet, enveloping the room in a comfortable atmosphere. There was friendly chatting amidst the indistinct clattering of dishes and running water, while a cheerful song by Queen played on the radio.

Marinette's father called from the kitchen, "Hi, sweetie! I'm gonna make some hot chocolate as soon as your mom and I finish with these dishes. Would you like some?"

There was no reply; only some shuffling and struggling noises. The lack of response drew the couple's attention. Looking up from their task, they noticed them immediately.

There at the threshold, in stark contrast with the pleasant, homey surroundings, stood a sopping wet Marinette, laboriously holding up a much taller and equally soaked young man, a dark hood obscuring his face and hair; body limp and battered. Marinette's pastel colored clothes were stained bright red, and, despite it being black, that same red stains were visible on the young man's outfit as well.

Sabine stared in fear and shock, breaking the silence as the mug she was drying slipped from her hands onto the floor, shattering on impact.

"Tom—" she croaked out, shaking her husband out of his own horrified stupor, never taking her eyes off her daughter. She rushed to her with outstretched arms, stepping over the broken shards.

The large man scrambled towards the pair and scooped up the unconscious youth. "Marinette, are you injured?! You're covered in... in...!"

"Papa, I'm okay," Marinette reassured him. "The blood isn't mine; it's his," She pointed to the person in Tom's arms. "And he's badly hurt!"

Tom nodded and walked towards the living area, placing the lanky young man onto the long side of their sectional couch. Sabine reappeared with a basin full of warm water and a few washcloths to clean up the wounds.

Kneeling by his side, she soaked a washcloth in the basin to clean the mystery man's face. Marinette scrunched her eyebrows in unease as her mother reached for the hood.

She held her breath, suppressing a flinch. This is it. Moment of truth.

Sabine pulled back the fabric, revealing a striking face with sharp features and a mess of golden blond hair. His skin was pale from blood loss, his lips colorless, his sickly sunken eyes noticeable despite the black mask that framed his face.

Pulling her hand away as if she'd been burned, Sabine leapt away, almost tripping on the coffee table behind her. "I-IT'S CHAT NOIR!?"

"WHAT??!?!" Tom shouted, eyes popping wide open in alarm. He rushed to his wife, pulling her behind him, effectively shielding her. "Honey, call the police!" he cried to her. "I'll make sure he doesn't try anything!" Sabine nodded and ran towards the kitchen area across the way.

"Mama, wait!!" Marinette yelped, reaching for the hem of her mother's shirt. Her mother stopped short of the countertop where the phone laid, looking back in confusion.

Marinette explained, "Don't call the police, they'll just lock him up; he needs medical attention!"

"They can give it to him in prison," her father replied, baffled by her response.

"But they're not going to care about what happens to him! They might even leave him like this just so he won't escape!" Marinette insisted.

Tom scratched his head in confusion. "What else are we supposed to do? We've got nothing to do with him. Like I said, we'll let the police deal with it," he retorted.

"We can take care of his injuries ourselves," she proposed.

Tom's eyes grew wide in alarm, head whipping back as if she'd slapped him. "WHAT?! Are you nuts??"

"I know it sounds crazy, but I think we should let him stay until he feels better," Marinette argued.

Tom crossed his arms. "You can't be serious! This criminal not our responsibility! We can't get involved!"

Frowning, Marinette scurried next to him and took a wide stance, hands on her hips, with the most intimidating look she could muster, appearing taller than she ever had. "Just a moment, Papa," she said, holding up her index finger for emphasis. "Under Article 223 of the French Penal Code, 'anyone who willfully abstains from rendering assistance to a person in danger will be found liable before the French criminal court. This offense is punishable by five years imprisonment and a seventy-five thousand euros fine.'"

"Wha-WHAT?!" Tom sputtered. "How the heck do you know that?!"

"I got a perfect score in the law enforcement unit of my social studies class," Marinette replied without missing a beat. She had to suppress a smirk upon seeing the stupefied expression on her father's face. Years of being the sole protector of the city of Paris meant that she'd become very familiar with its legal procedures and rules. But her parents wouldn't question the validity of her claim if she used school as an excuse. "That means we have to help him! It's the law!" she insisted.

Tom argued, "Absolutely not!! Law or not, it's too dangerous! He could wake up any minute and kill us all!"

"He won't!" Marinette stated with conviction. "Have you ever actually seen Chat Noir attack a civilian?" she countered. "Just think about it! Remember when Grandpa Dupain was akumatized? Chat stopped him from destroying the bakery and lured him away from you guys. Or when he saved me from getting turned to stone when Nonna was akumatized? He wouldn't hurt us!"

Recalling the events, Tom paused to reflect upon all the possible reasons why Chat Noir would have done that. It didn't make any sense. What ulterior motive could he have had at those moments? Surely there was something. He was evil. Why would he rescue them?

"Regardless," Tom finally answered. "He was still an active participant and Hawkmoth's accomplice. We have to turn him in to the authorities."

Marinette continued to stall. She couldn't reveal that Chat was Ladybug's friend now without arousing suspicion and being asked questions about how she'd acquired this undisclosed information. "Couldn't we at least treat his injuries up before we do that? In spite of everything else he's guilty of, we should pay him back for saving us, don't you think so?"

"Even if we wanted to, we only know basic first aid. We're not equipped for anything more serious," he replied.

"His miraculous will help him heal; he'd just need a place to stay while he gets better. Papa, he could die! Even if he's a criminal, we can't let a person die under our roof. Not when we can do something about it!"

She whipped her head towards her mother, hoping for backup. "Mama, it's pouring outside. Can't we let him stay, even if it's just for a few hours? He may have committed crimes, but nobody deserves to suffer like this!"

Sabine had been silent during their dispute, carefully assessing the situation, fingers tapping on her chin as she always did whenever she was deep in thought.

"Mama, Papa... He needs help... Please." Marinette implored, eyes shining with unshed tears, wringing her trembling hands together. Even though her parents knew nothing about her relationship with Chat, it was impossible to conceal how much this mattered to her.

"Dear, will you excuse us for a moment?" Sabine finally answered her daughter. "Your father and I need to deliberate." She took Tom's hand and headed towards the spare bedroom next to the living area.

"Deliberate?! What is there to deliberate?" He planted his feet and replied urgently, "A-and we can't leave Marinette alone with him! Darling, we're all in danger right now! This crook is like a bomb that could detonate at any moment! We know what he's capable of! He could Cataclysm this entire building the moment he wakes up."

Sabine's expression turned grave and resolute, looking straight into her husband's eyes. She firmly squeezed his much larger hand, wordlessly beckoning for his cooperation.

A few moments later, Tom sighed. Sabine was taking advantage of his biggest weakness: he could never say no to her.

"Alright," he complied at last. Turning towards Marinette, he instructed, "But holler if you need us."

The pair entered the next room, not quite shutting the door all the way so they could still hear their daughter in case of emergency.

"We should hurry, I don't like leaving her alone with that guy," Tom fretted. "What's on your mind?"

Sabine replied, "I think we need to know more about what happened. Like who did this to him."

Tom flailed his arms in bewilderment. "Wait, why does that matter? What is this all about?"

Sabine crossed her arms, scrunching her brow in concentration. "I don't know... Something just isn't adding up."

"Maybe he got jumped by an angry mob, or by people who've been akumatized," Tom speculated. "He and Hawkmoth are everyone's enemies; it could've been literally anyone!"

"There's just something really odd about this whole thing," she pressed. "Why did it happen now? And why didn't Hawkmoth save him?"

"Sabine, there's a supervillain on the other side of this door!" Tom sputtered. "We're not detectives! This isn't our responsibility. We need to call the police and get this thug out of our house now!" he cried desperately.

"Tom, he has superpowers. What chance would they have? As you said, he could Cataclysm his way out of jail. Just hear me out first," Sabine insisted. "Remember earlier today on the news, during the akuma attack? They showed Chat Noir defeating the akuma himself. They showed him leaving the scene with Ladybug. What if something happened between him and Hawkmoth, and now they're at odds with each other?"

"All the more reason to get rid of him immediately," Tom argued. "We can't get caught in the crossfire of two superpowered villains. We need to think of our family!"

"But Tom, he's just a child. He's not a full adult yet, just like our Marinette, and most likely still in lycée. Probably not even old enough to vote. And where's his family right now?"

"Are you seriously considering that we let him stay?!" Tom stared at Sabine as if she'd just suggested he drink a gallon of poison.

She tilted her head in thoughtful concern. "I'd feel terribly guilty if we turned out an injured person, even if they have a bad past. Especially someone so young," she iterated.

"Being young is no excuse," Tom retorted. "If he's old enough to terrorize a city, he's old enough to accept responsibility for it."

"You're right. He is old enough to be held accountable for his actions," she conceded. "But could we at least wait until morning? It's late, it's thunderstorming, and we should find out more about the situation before we do anything rash. Ladybug should be the one to take care of this, not the authorities," she reiterated. "If there's even the slightest possibility that he's working with her now, I'd hate to deprive of her an ally. Heaven knows that poor girl has been alone for so long. We have to find a way to contact her."

Tom groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know, Sabine... You're right too, but still... I don't like this."

"I know, honey, and I'm sorry to ask this of you," she said softly, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. "But it feels right. And it's important to Marinette. I really don't think he would hurt her. Plus, he did save us."

Her husband nodded at that, considering her words. A whole minute passed, neither of them speaking as they held hands.

Finally, Tom spoke, "Well... You always were an excellent judge of character." He sighed deeply, biting his lip in trepidation. "I trust you. And I'll trust Marinette."

Sabine gave him a soft smile. "I think Chat Noir ended up on our doorstep for a reason. I don't believe it was a coincidence." After a pause, she added, "And if we don't help, nobody else will."

The Dupain-Chengs re-entered the living room hand-in-hand. Across the room, a tired looking Marinette was hard at work cleaning up Chat Noir's face and arms. She had removed his cowl and staff, and laid them carefully on the coffee table.

The pair glanced at each other, mutually acknowledging and admiring their daughter's big heart and capacity for compassion.

Sabine knelt next to her, placing her hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you go shower and change? You'll feel a lot better. I'll keep fixing him up."

Marinette whipped her head around, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"Let me move him to the guest bedroom first," Tom interjected. "It'll be easier in there."

Gaping like a fish with her jaw somewhere on the floor, Marinette struggled to formulate a coherent sentence. "D-does that mean that you– that we're letting him– that you're gonna—!"

"Yes, he can stay." Tom suppressed a grin and did his best to put on his Stern Father Face. "But just until tomorrow, after we find out more about what happened. We're going to try to get in contact with Ladybug. Maybe if we get word to her first, she could sort this out."

"Thanks, Papa! Thanks, Mama! You're amazing!" Marinette cried, eyes glistening with relief. She reached over to hug her mother, but was stopped halfway as Sabine held her back by the shoulders.

"Ummm, maybe we hold off on that hug until you've changed out of these dirty clothes," Sabine said, mouth quirked to the side in amusement.

Marinette glanced down at her filthy, blood-stained shirt. "Oh! Right!" She shot up and dashed up the stairs to her bedroom, tripping on a step in her haste. "THANK YOU GUYS!!!"

Her parents smiled at each other, then set about moving the subject of tonight's commotion into the guest bedroom.

Freshly bathed and changed, Marinette assisted her mother in patching up Chat Noir, applying bandages and antiseptic where needed, and removing articles of clothing to treat the areas underneath. They worked in quiet conversation, and before long, it was time for Tom and Sabine to head to bed so they could open the bakery at dawn, as they always did.

"Don't stay up late," Sabine called. "I'll check in on him in the morning, so don't worry about a thing."

"Yes, Mama. I'll just stay here for a few more minutes. Good night," Marinette chirped contentedly.

Sabine kissed the top of her daughter's head, then exited the room. Once again Marinette was left alone with Chat. The room was silent but for the sleeping boy's soft yet steady breathing and the continuous splattering of rain outside.

Tikki cautiously peered out of Marinette's shorts pocket, whispering, "I'll be under the bed to speed up his healing. Sneak me some cookies now and then, okay?"

Marinette nodded. "Can do," she whispered back. "Thanks, Tikki."

She watched her kwami disappear under the bed frame, a myriad of thoughts swirling around her head. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful and relieved that her parents let Chat spend the night, or to fret about how she would convince them to allow him to stay for longer than just overnight, as Fu had instructed.

Finally concluding to tackle the situation one problem at a time, she grabbed up a nearby pillow to sit on and held Chat's hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb.

Despite being asleep, she noticed how much more at peace he appeared, physically. The pained scrunch that had been fixed on his brow was gone; a softer, more relaxed expression had appeared in its stead.

She sat comfortably by his side, watching his bare, muscular chest slowly rise and fall as he slept deeply. A pleasant shiver traveled down her body and she bit her lip, blushing.

Somehow, despite being covered in bandages and scratches, he was still exceptionally handsome. He must be even more gorgeous under the mask, she surmised. Sighing dreamily, she placed her hands under her chin, eyelids fluttering slowly as she dumbfoundedly gazed upon his sleeping form.

So... beautiful...

Her brain screeched to a halt. Wait, what?? Realizing where her thoughts had wandered, she squeezed her eyes shut with a wince and frowned. Marinette, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!! This is literally the most inappropriate time to be ogling your new partner!!

She shook her head, inhaling sharply in stubborn denial.

No, not ogling... You were just... admiring! Yes! In a totally not-creepy way! He would make a fantastic model for your designs! For sure! That's all it is. Yep.

Despite herself, she opened one eye and peeked at him, heat blossoming within her chest yet again.

You were most definitely ogling your partner. Your extremely attractive and sweet partner, who shamelessly flirts with you but is actually ridiculously kind, whose broad shoulders and strong arms give amazing hugs and make you feel safe and warm, and whose hair is so silky it may as well be in a shampoo commercial, and– GAAHHH, WAIT, NO!!!

Mortified, she curled in on herself with a long groan, covering her now ruby-red face with her hands.

Distraction... need a distraction!!

Marinette looked Chat Noir over for the hundredth time, searching for anything else she could do to make him more comfortable, since making herself useful would be a sure way to keep her tired brain away from any further indecent thoughts.

Her gaze landed on a speck of dirt in his hair that markedly stood out against the light-colored tresses. Now, this wouldn't do. She plucked off the offensive particle, only to discover a few more stragglers hidden under some tangled strands.

Hesitantly, she threaded her fingers through his blond locks, tenderly smoothing it and picking off any remaining bits of debris and dust. Satisfied she'd done the best she could short of actually bathing him (DON'T THINK ABOUT HIM BATHING, DON'T THINK ABOUT HIM BATHING), she continued to stroke and massage his scalp, set on offering him as much relief as possible. A low, fluttering sound emerged from his throat in response.