Chat Noir led them out the room, slamming the door open with enough force to knock it off its hinges, but even the hard sound of wood hitting concrete couldn't stop him from marching out the place. All he could see was red! Gabriel's face! His freedom! Everything was red, including his Bug, who right now he was worried would get the brunt of his irritations.

He couldn't control the explosive feelings of rage inside him. His father, the man who terrorised Paris, was being allowed to once again roam the streets. Where was the justice in that? Not just for him, as Gabriel's son or Chat Noir, but for Ladybug, for his friends who were repeatedly akumatised, for poor Mr Ramier who couldn't even show an ounce of anger or disappointment without his feelings being taken advantage of.

"Chaton, slow down please. You know as well as I do, he's paid the system off. Money speaks."

...And doesn't it just.

Money is what had ruined his life, time and time again. Right from the tender age of 12 when he'd been forced into the modelling world because his hair and eyes would sell. He wouldn't deny that when he first started it was a thrill, that he was proud to be working alongside his father and loved the attention...that feeling lasted about a month.

He could still remember the day Marinette took his hand, supporting him to take the risk and quit; just like he had later that day to her when they'd both adorned their masks.

He shook his head. This was way too much to deal with at the moment. Priorities being not to cataclysm anything or intentionally hurt his bug. Instead he moved onwards, hell bent on getting out of the building.

Chat Noir continued his storm out, slamming each and every door in the way, only stopping to grunt out an apology to those frightened by his actions. Finally reaching the main doorway, he threw it open and headed out onto the Parisian street, straight into the arms of the paparazzi and press, now was seriously not the time.

The reporters called out to them both, asking for statements and interviews. Well they could shove that up their asses! He didn't want to even think about speaking of his father at the moment, and, worst of all, they'd be coming for Adrien too.

A whirlwind of emotions attempted to break free as he pushed his way through the crowds. The sudden realisation that he wasn't alone struck him hard, his body automatically turning back in search of his partner. He saw her standing there, her eyes wide as the press moved in, blocking her and asking her for answers and reassurance that Gabriel Agreste was no longer dangerous.

"Ladybug, what do you think about Gabriel being released?"

"Ladybug, is Gabriel Agreste still dangerous without his Miraculous?"

"Has Gabriel paid the judicial system off? Will you demand a retrial?"

"I hear the jury were going to vote, M. Agreste not guilty. What's your thoughts on that?"

"Will he try to get the Miraculous back?"

"Does he know who you are?"

"Will he come after you both now he's free?"

"If Gabriel was innocent, how many other people have you two put in jail without reason?"

Her head was darting from side to side, fragments of answers attempting to leave her lips as people threw question after question her way.

"I - um - I think, I don't think we have anything to worry about. We're stronger than ever." Through her worried words, she caught his eye and he moved towards her instantly, taking her into his arms and grabbing a hold of his baton; extending and launching onto the roof, before running with his Lady to a quieter area, away from the courthouse.

Eventually, Chat Noir found a quiet alleyway dropping them both down, lowering Ladybug's feet to the ground in an action a lot more gentle than how he felt, the movement not gone unseen by his partner.

"Chat, please, let's talk about this." She moved forward, grabbing hold of his shaking arm as he attempted to move away and out onto the street.

His mind was swirling, the force of a thousand cyclone's spiralling not only in his head, but also in his stomach. Maybe he should have stayed in America? Perhaps it was his want, his need to be happy that had caused this? Bad luck of the black cat? Ha! He'd take bad luck over this anyday. It was despicable, godawful, atrocious, there were no words to label his life. There was only one good thing in it, and he was sure if he didn't control himself he would lose her too.

"I can't, not now," he said, moving out of the alley and into the quiet street near Master Fu's old parlour. He looked at the broken wooden door and sighed. He needed to get a hold on his feelings and not let them rule him. So what if his murderer of a father was walking the streets again? Who cared that his father had killed him numerous times, neglected him and held him prisoner in his own home for 18 years? Who cared if Chat Noir wasn't dealing with the fact the monster who'd tried to kill his Lady time and time again, was back out in Paris, free to do whatever he goddamn pleased?

Who cared?

"Please, Kitty."

"There's nothing to talk about." In other words, he was having a breakdown and had no idea how to handle it. He was meant to be there for her. To be her strength, but right at this moment he didn't have the strength to lift a pencil.

"Kitty, come on. I'm just as angry as you are." She was following him, and he really didn't want her too. His anger was boiling up and over, and he knew if this continued he would firstly say something he regretted and secondly, risk revealing his identity and once again putting them both in danger.

"Just, please, leave me for a while, I don't want to say anything I'll regret."

"Chaton, come on. It's not just you this has affected. Don't you think it's affected me too? Just begin to think how I feel, he stole all my Miraculous' and seemed to have it in for me! You know as well as I do, he seemed to have a vendetta against me."

He laughed bitterly as he continued his stalk back to their apartment, he was too angry to use any 'equipment' to get there, and staying on street level would stop him from 'cataclysming' a house or something. For the first time in the eight years of owning his Miraculous, Chat Noir ignored those around him. Those smiling and greeting him, and those wanting an autograph or a picture. He just wanted to get home, lock himself away and either cry or punch something; releasing his anger until he was safe to see her again.

Before he could get too far away, Ladybug's hand grabbed his forearm and pulled him around to face her. "What does that mean?" she said irritably.

"Forget it." He placed one hand on his forehead and pulled away from her, continuing his journey to the apartment.

"Chaton, stop." Ladybug's voice broke as she spoke, the need for him to respond to her pulling at his heart, but he just couldn't talk about it. He didn't know how! Freezing in his tracks he turned around to face her, his face stone-like as he stared into her eyes.

"Listen, talk to me please. I'm feeling it too, we've worked years for this!" she cried.

He looked at her face, the way she was broken. Not just for him, but also because of him and his good for nothing father.

"I feel exactly the same as you. I know how you feel."

A spark ignited inside him. The tiny flint exploding into a burning inferno! He couldn't control it, it was spiralling out of control.

"You have no idea how I'm feeling! You can't even begin to imagine how I feel at the moment."

Speeding up his walk, he reached the alley near their apartment block, and grabbed his baton from its holder on his lower back. He extended it to their rooftop, launching himself onto their private balcony, before unlocking the door and entering the apartment; his aim, straight for the bottle whiskey he kept for special occasions.

"Then tell me!" she demanded.

Grabbing the bottle, he reached for a glass tumbler in his other hand. The tumbler he had for his first 'Player of the Match' award. He'd done this to himself. Everything that was happening was because he came back.

"I can't! It's too close to unveiling my identity if I do."

"B-but I thought?"

"We can't!" he stated, matter-of-factly.

"Minou, please." Her pleading words hit his ear, and he crumbled. His legs collapsed, sending him straight to the floor; the movement being his body's attempt to ground him. To give him some stability. Her eyes were tearing up but he couldn't feel at the moment, it was too much, the tingling in his nose, the pain under his eyes, his overbearing need to fall apart, it was all there.

"You think you understand the pain I'm in?" he whispered. "You think you know what it's like for someone you trust to hate you, to want to hurt you? You have no idea, Bug." His voice was small, and he felt nothing more than an elementary school boy trying to explain to the teacher why he hadn't completed his homework. He looked down at the bottle and glass in his hands, placing the glass down to pop the top off the bottle and placing the naked rim to his lips, taking a deep, burning gulp.

"Are you hinting at me? I haven't done anything. Why are you blaming me?" She raised her voice, the tone almost a yell and he winced.

The power of her standing over him once again dumbed him down, showing him that she was in charge, she was the one with the power.

"Here we go again." He threw back another long swig of whiskey, a lame laugh leaving his lips along with another bout of tears. "It's not always about you!" He closed his eyes, throwing his head back against the cupboard behind him. He knew exactly what he was doing; pushing her away just like he always did.

Keeping his eyes tightly closed he steadied his breathing before placing the bottle to his lips once more. The liquid gasoline adding to the fire in his stomach, the combination a painful realisation of what was to come.

The room was silent, and he knew she was staring at him. Probably contemplating whether to slap him or leave him; or if he was lucky come and sit beside him and take him in her warm, safe arms telling him to stop being an ass and talk to her.

"I'm going out," she spoke softly, but authoritatively. "Let me know when you're willing to talk like an adult and I'll be back here, but for now I need space."

Bile rose to his throat. That was it. She was done. He could tell from the tone and expression in her voice. He didn't dare open his eyes, he couldn't, not when he'd lost the last and only person who seemed to truly care about him. He'd lost his mother, his father and, now, his wife.

"Go ahead. Leave me." Chat continued downing large quantities of the whiskey, ignoring the intense pain as it burned down his throat. He was already in his coffin, he may now get her to nail it shut. He was hurt and he wanted her to feel his pain too...why couldn't she have just left him alone?. "You're great at running away when I need you. Brushing it under the carpet like it's all my own fault."

He felt the bottle be yanked from his hand. His head remained back against the wall, as he stayed on the floor with his eyes closed. One last look at her and he would be a goner; wrapped into her beauty and his good for nothing ass down on his knees begging for forgiveness. She deserved better than him. For the first time ever, he regretted getting married, he regretted causing the woman he loved so wholeheartedly to be stuck with him. She should be with someone who wasn't such a screw up, someone who wasn't a mess, someone who wasn't destroyed and broken.

He needed to cool down. He needed to remind himself that she didn't know who he was. That she didn't know what he was going through because he was too stubborn to let her in.

"Well, what about when I need you!" Her words were like a stab to his chest, his heart displaying multiple, deep wounds, bleeding out and onto the floor. It didn't deserve to be saved. He didn't deserve to be saved. "You haven't been here for months, I never know what the hell you're up to in your other life, but I know you're not here with me, all I want is to be with you completely and you won't even allow me that. I heard you on the phone as well. Who is this woman you're worried about? If you say she's just a friend, I won't believe it. Not the way you talk about her. You're only an 'I love you' away from talking about her like you do me!"

His eyes shot open, meeting her bluebells as she remained standing over him, the bottle still firmly in her grasp, tears he didn't know she was spilling, running with depth down her face.

"What phone call?" he asked, bewildered, when suddenly it clicked. His phone call to Alya, about Marinette. About her. "You don't understand, you've taken it out of context."

And hadn't she just. He attempted to stand up, to get to her, to make her understand the only person he was worried about and loved was her. But his legs decided not to work. They'd lost their ability to stand and therefore, the ability to stop her from running away.

"I need a break," she said, her eyes looking out the window.

"What time will you be back?" he asked quietly, his legs finally working and allowing him to stand.

"Chat, I love you, I really do! But I can't keep doing this. You won't tell me who you are, you disappear for hours at a time, you're having secret conversations about a woman you seem to truly care about and I..." he watched her gulp, her throat obviously tightening as much as his own. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this anymore. We shouldn't have -" she took a deep breath closing her eyes, "we shouldn't have continued this."

"But.. M'Lady... Just..." All of a sudden his legs came back into control of themselves and he pushed himself to stand, but it was too late. In those measly seconds it took to stand, she'd escaped from him. Making his way to the window he watched as she launched herself into the sky leaving him alone to wallow in his self pity and destructive thoughts.

Dropping his transformation he exchanged anxious looks with Plagg, neither knowing what to say. But he knew one thing was for certain, staying here would be the wrong choice; he needed to venture into the depths of the city and try to find her.