"The day a bullet decides your fate is the day your life is out of your control."

— Forbidden Fruits

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

»»☆««

The sun was barely over the horizon as Chat Noir stepped out into the town's already barren square, but the wind was already strong and gusty, sending sand rushing through the streets. Several bystanders stood off to the side or from behind the glass of a window, intending to be witnesses to what was about to unfold. Across the barren road stood Carter Grimes, dressed in denim, a black colored shirt, a red checkered neckerchief, a black ringo hat on his head, and black chaps with flowing leather pieces being pushed behind him in the wind.

But Chat Noir's attention was hardly on that. It was mostly on his choice of weapon—two dainty pistols strapped to his hips, poorly hidden under his partially untucked shirt. So... he intended to play dirtier than he imagined then—

"Well, well, well," Carter chuckled in amusement, cutting off Chat Noir's thoughts. "If it isn't my old friend. I've heard quite a bit 'bout you and what you've been up to as of late."

"I'm sure you have." Chat Noir's leather-gloved hand slowly moved to rest atop the hilt of his revolver.

Carter's eyes quickly darted to the movement, but his gaze held no worry. He looked entirely amused. "I see you're eager to settle the score. Reminds me of the days when we used to work together."

"The only score I plan to settle is sendin' you back down to hell."

"Hm." Carter pouted dramatically. He wasn't at all phased. "Well, that's no fun. The last hole you left me to rot in was the pinnacle of your betrayal."

"Don't get it twisted. You betrayed me."

Carter let out a head-splitting, detestable laugh at that. "It's called business; a vision I thought we both shared. But now I see you've decided to take her all for yourself."

Chat Noir's eyes darkened dangerously. "She doesn't concern you no more. You would be wise to remember that."

"We'll see 'bout that." Carter's hand hovered over the hilt of his revolver. He only seemed to be intending to use one, but Chat Noir knew better. If he knew Carter Grimes well enough, he knew the man intended to make sure this was the last sight he ever saw.

At the sound of a bystander's whistle, they turned their backs to one another. Another whistle sounded and they began the start of their twenty steps. With each synchronized step they took, the ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet. The witness of his second, Nino, and a couple of his men accompanying him, stood amongst the bystanders with worried and conflicted expressions, whereas Grimes's witnesses were smirking, looking arrogant and dastardly.

They all intended to witness a murder this fine morning, Chat Noir was sure of it. However, what they weren't prepared for was who exactly would be the one murdered.

As they reached their twentieth step, they each stood incredibly still. Chat Noir's hand hovered anxiously over the hilt of his revolver, his fingers twitching in both nervousness and anticipation. Finally, another whistle sounded, and that was their cue to turn around as fast as they could and fire their weapons. Not stalling for a second, Chat Noir whipped around, raised his revolver, and fired right at Carter's head.

The sound of three bullets piercing through the air was all that could be heard across the barren, silent streets. It should have only been two bullets, but Carter had done exactly what Chat Noir had anticipated he would and had fired both of his revolvers.

One of his bullets had been aimed at Chat Noir's heart. It bounced off of his chest, for Chat Noir was wearing a vest that prevented any piercing.

The second bullet was off. Chat Noir knew this because Carter Grimes was not left-handed. It was meant to have been shot at his head, but instead, the bullet grazed his right shoulder. Chat Noir let out a silent wince behind gritted teeth. A graze was nothing to be concerned about, but it was painful.

Carter, however, hadn't been so lucky. Chat Noir had aimed for his head, and rarely ever did his bullets miss. With eyes blown wide in the realization of his fate, Carter Grimes fell backward into the dusty road. Blood was oozing out from his front brow and his fear-stricken eyes were left thrown wide as he took in his last breath.

Chat Noir blew at the smoke rising from the end of his revolver before he returned it to his holster. Grimes's men rushed to his aid, but there was nothing they could do for a man who was already dead. Chat Noir's men also rushed to his side—Nino in particular, who looked relieved to see that his leader was alright. Holding his bleeding shoulder, Chat Noir simply watched with no emotion as his old foe and friend, Carter Grimes, was lifelessly lifted into the arms of his grim and defeated followers.

"Let that be a lesson to you all." Chat Noir said when his eyes met with the vengeful gazes of those who once followed a man who was no more. "Any man who thinks my woman belongs to him shall never see the light of day again."

They silently disappeared into the dust of the air without another word after that, but the quick glance of fear in their eyes was all Chat Noir needed to see. With Carter Grimes gone, the news of his death and how he died was sure to quickly spread across the desert. When the news reached those who wanted Marinette for themselves, he was certain most of them would give up on whatever schemes they had up their sleeves.

The only one he knew wouldn't be perturbed by Grimes's death was the Reaper.

"We should leave immediately." Chat Noir told his second. Nino's concerned eyes were already fixated on him. "The Reaper is bound to hear of this, which means Marinette certainly isn't safe anymore."

"I agree," Nino answered. "Except you should probably attend to your injury first—"

"No time." He quickly cut him off. "Besides, it's only a graze. I'll be fine."

Nino didn't seem to agree, but he wouldn't dare argue against the matter either. Instead, he gave Chat Noir a curt nod and signaled the rest of the men to follow. Only a few stayed behind to guide their injured leader back to his room (lest he be ambushed by any men angered by Carter Grimes's death.)

One of the men who had accompanied him knocked on the room door. It was the signal for the man guarding Marinette on the other end to open the door. As he did so, Chat Noir was greeted with a poorly lit room with Marinette sitting up on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chin. Her head whipped in their direction as soon as she heard them enter, and that was when he noticed her cheeks were stained with tears.

"Leave us." Chat Noir said to the remaining men in the room. They all scurried without protest, leaving him and Marinette alone once again in such a chilly room.

Sighing through his nose rather heavily, he slowly moved across the room to join her on the bed. Much to his relief, Marinette didn't scoot away when he sat down beside her.

"This might seem inconsiderate of me..." he began softly, a bit of humor laced in his every word. "But would you mind stitchin' up my shoulder?"

She turned to look at him then, her eyes incredibly saddened. It broke his heart to see.

"You shouldn't be distraught." He tried to assure her when her silence stretched on. "It's just a graze—"

"And what if it hadn't been?" Her gaze was hard now, conveying all of the anger that was laced behind her worry and sadness. "What if he had killed you?"

"I knew he wouldn't have."

"But what if he had? I heard the man tried to cheat. He could have won—"

"Such little faith in me." Chat Noir chuckled, but there was no humor behind it. Placing a hand on Marinette's knee, he said, "Dwellin' over the what ifs is a form of pointless sufferin'. It didn't happen. It will never happen. It takes more than a little bullet to kill me."

"How can you be so sure?" There was desperation in her voice. "You can't tell the future."

"No, I can't." He could agree with that. He wasn't a fortune teller, but he was particularly skilled in being able to read and anticipate his opponent's next move. This usually granted him a ninety-nine percent chance of success but saying so aloud wouldn't soothe Marinette's nerves. He knew her well enough to know that she would still worry over that one percent.

Marinette let out a sigh when the silence had grown too great for her liking. "How bad is it?" She jerked her head toward his shoulder, her eyes particularly glued onto the blood that had soaked into his shirt.

"Just a few stitches should do the trick." He answered. In other words, it could have been worse.

Marinette grimaced. "Let me get my needle and thread."

He watched her stand and move across the room. At the far end of the room, a bag she had claimed as her own sat, filled with clothes she had been given and other things she deemed personal. She pulled out her finest needle and a bit of thread. When she returned to the bed, Marinette sat back down beside him and briefly examined his red-stained shoulder.

"I'm going to need you to remove your shirt," Marinette said evenly. He couldn't understand how she could be so calm. She hadn't even touched him yet and he was already shivering.

Deciding not to respond verbally (lest his voice be a shaky mess), Chat Noir carefully removed his shirt over his head. It was hard to do with one arm, he'd admit, but it was fairly manageable. With the ruined garment discarded off to the side, Chat Noir sat before her entirely bare from the hips up. Although he'd been in this state in front of her before, it had been when they were trying to sleep. This felt entirely different. He felt exposed.

He felt a damp cloth touch his wound and he winched.

"Sorry," Marinette whispered softly, "I have to clean it first."

He exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to calm his nerves. "There's nothin' you to need to apologize for. In fact, I thank you for this."

"It's the least I can do when I know you're fighting for my life."

He met her eyes then, shocked by her earnest words. However, by turning his head so suddenly, they were not prepared for their faces to be so close to one another. Her damp cloth was now pressed against his wound. She hadn't moved her hand, just as she hadn't pulled away.

He swallowed nervously. He could have sworn her eyes flickered down to his lips.

He licked his lips. "I would sacrifice anythin' for you. I hope you know that."

Her eyes seemed to study his for the longest time. Neither of them could look away from the other. He idly wondered if she was beginning to understand this pull that lingered between them; the hidden force that wanted them to be closer.

"I'm beginning to understand that." She whispered.

He couldn't help it—his eyes darted to her lips. They were perfect in every way, and all he wanted was to press his lips against hers. He wanted to know if they fit together as well as he dreamed. He wanted to taste her, to be intoxicated by her, to be consumed in her...

He exhaled shakily. They were already so close. If she would allow him...

He leaned upward, inching closer to her mouth. Marinette didn't pull away, even as his nose lightly brushed against hers and their breaths came to mingle. She let out a shuddered breath. He shivered when it kissed his skin. He felt his eyes flutter close.

But he didn't close the distance. He wanted Marinette to be the one to decide that.

"What are we doing?" She whispered against his lips. He could tell she was conflicted, unsure of what she really wanted.

"What do you want us to be doin'?" He whispered just as softly. He wanted the choice to be entirely hers to make.

She whimpered in response, and he wasn't sure what that sound meant. It could have many meanings. It could be a desirable sound... or it could be originated in fear.

His breath brushed over her lips as he asked, "Do you want me to pull away?"

Marinette shook her head in response. Chat Noir found himself unable to contain his smile at that, but then, she did what she didn't want him to do and slightly pulled away. She didn't go far, but he wasn't about to chase after her if she wanted space.

His smile fell slightly, but he wouldn't dare make her feel bad about her choice. He opened his eyes, finding her blue-bell irises already bleeding into his own. There was an emotion swirling in her eyes that he couldn't decipher.

His smile was smaller now, but it was still genuine. "I will never force you to do somethin' with me that you're not comfortable with."

But even with his words of assurance, she still seemed conflicted. He couldn't help but tuck a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. "What's the matter?"

She pressed her lips together as she considered her response. The wait was agonizing, but he was patient. Finally, she admitted, "I-I'm frightened, I suppose..."

He frowned slightly. "Of me?"

She shook her head. "Of... of these feelings. Of what I'm feeling."

His expression softened. Perhaps he understood her troubles. "Feelin's for me?"

She exhaled a shaky sigh and looked away. It was enough to confirm his suspicion, and it elated him. A big grin pulled at his lips before he even realized it was there, but he had to shove it away for her sake. Now was not the time to celebrate that his feelings were returned.

"It's okay." He tried to assure her. He somehow found her hand in the process, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't need to understand what you're feelin' right this second. You don't need to express those feelin's either. Take as much time as you need to understand them."

"There is no doubt in my mind. I do understand them." Her eyes met his once more, this time filled with determination. It had him swallowing in awe. "But I fear them. I fear what it might become. I fear what others might say, what the future might look like for me now—"

"All of these are valid concerns—"

"You don't understand." Marinette snapped suddenly. He found it to be a bit harsh, but he would take it for now. "My life has been planned out for me since the moment I was born. Everyone has always expected something from me; my father has always expected me to marry a respectable man... and now..."

She choked back a sob, and it took everything in him not to pull her into his arms.

"And now..." she breathed out shakily, "Now I have feelings for you. A bandit. An outlaw. A man who will always be on the run from the law. A man who is wanted dead."

He wasn't sure why, but her words caused his heart to ache. He knew all of these things were true, and yet, hearing them from her mouth only made him realize just how realistic they were. This was why they could never be together. Because of him. Because of his reputation. Because of his occupation. That wasn't the type of life Marinette deserved.

"What would my brothers say if they were to know of this?" Marinette continued on in worry. "They would think of me disgraceful... would probably never meet my eye again, and my father? My father would loathe me even more than he already does."

The more she continued to speak, the more his heart began to break.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with what other people think of you. Of us."

Marinette's eyes narrowed at him. "Easy for you to say. You haven't been raised under a scrutinizing eye all your life."

"Quite the contrary, actually. Many eyes scrutinize my every move."

Her eyes softened slightly at that. It was enough to give him the opening to continue. "Those same eyes scrutinized my father as well. Every decision he ever made. The same goes for me. Do you not think some of my men might question my judgment when I am puttin' everythin' I have ever built on the line for you?"

Marinette seemed shocked by his words. To that, he added, "And since when have you ever been known to be a woman who believes that what you do with your life is based on what your father, your brothers, or what any man says? Last I recall, you are in control of your own life."

She sniffled, but that was her only response. So, he went on.

"To hell with what your father or your brothers think. Do what makes you happy. If you wish to return to Deadwood and follow your father's orders, you may do so once I know you will be safe from the Reaper. If you wish to spend the rest of your days out in the desert, chartin' every inch of sand, then so be it. If you wanted to spend the rest of your days with me, then I would be honored. But you are the one who must decide what you want."

When he was finished, she simply stared at him in awe. For a moment, he would've thought she was speechless, until she said, "You're right."

And then she did the unthinkable. She closed the distance between them and kissed him.

Caught off guard, Chat Noir remained frozen for just a second, almost as if he couldn't believe what was truly unfolding. But then his eyes fluttered closed, and he sucked in a harsh breath as he quickly began to savor what he had longed to feel for so long—what he'd longed to taste and claim as his own. Her lips were soft, so incredibly soft and plump, perfectly fitting with his own. They fit together even better than he could have ever imagined.

She pressed them against him with just as much eagerness, her intentions clear on what she wanted. The sexual tension between them these last few days had been maddening, only fueled further with every glance, every smile, every tease, every flirtatious remark, every wink, and every brush of skin.

Her lips slowly parted in a breathless gasp, allowing his tongue access to slip into her mouth. A moan rumbled from the pit of his throat as their tongues mingled, silently having a duel of their own. Marinette's hands slowly worked their way up his chest, caressing and kneading his bare skin. He found himself suddenly grateful for not wearing a shirt in that moment.

His hands lifted to cup her cheeks. His body was on fire, eager for her. Chat Noir could feel the desire to slowly lose himself creeping into his thoughts. He wanted to get lost in her, he wanted to claim her, he wanted to love her...

But his bloody shoulder had a better idea. As he found himself falling backward onto the bed, his shoulder began to flare with immense pain. It caused him to wince, which quickly broke their kiss with a loud POP.

Marinette gasped in realization. "Oh my, your shoulder! I'm so sorry—!"

"No, no don't apologize." He couldn't help but wince again when he tried to sit up. "It's not your fault."

She insisted, nonetheless. "I should have tended to that first... not kissed you—"

"Nu-uh. Don't you dare apologize for that kiss. I'd take kissin' your lips over stitches any day."

That earned him a lighthearted laugh, which brought a grin to his lips. Realizing he wouldn't be able to sit up on his own, he remained lying on his back, simply staring up at her with one of the widest smiles he'd ever worn in his life.

She was staring down at him with a fond smile. For a moment, they shared a silent gaze with one another which spoke more than any word could. It was a mixture of understanding, gratefulness, and desire for each other.

It was a look only soulmates could share; he was sure of it.

Much to his surprise, Marinette decided to lie down beside him. Because his shoulder was injured, he couldn't turn on his side to face her, but he could still feel the heat from her body radiating off of her, and the softness of her skin as she delicately ran her fingers along his chest and abdomen. Her touch alone sent chills running down his spine.

"Do you have feelings for me as well?" Marinette suddenly asked him barely above a whisper, which overall broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

He let out a fond chuckle. "I thought I was pretty obvious... perhaps a bit too obvious, but yes, I do, very much so."

Marinette hummed contently, "When did you start having feelings for me?" By now, she had thrown her arm over his abdomen, and he had inclined his neck to meet her eyes. "Was it that day you entered the bar? My brother Elias said you'd seen me even though you never looked my way—"

"Your brother was right. I did see you." He interrupted her softly, "But that wasn't the first time I had seen you."

Her eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "You had seen me before? When?"

The words were on the tip of his tongue. When we were children... only days before my parents were murdered after they tried to warn your father of the Reaper's intentions.

"The first time I ever saw you... we were children." He answered carefully. He wouldn't dare tell her the whole story now, but perhaps a bit of insight wouldn't hurt. "I was twelve at the time. My parents went to your father to warn him of the Reaper's intentions. I remember standin' beside my father when the mayor stepped out. You were on his arm, and you looked fearful... of us."

Marinette's expression morphed into genuine confusion, along with a bit of hurt. "I don't... I don't remember that."

Chat Noir offered her a sad smile. "It's okay, I do. I remember when our eyes met for just a second. It was then that I developed one of those silly childlike crushes on you, but it never went away. As the years went on, so did my feelin's. Of course, I never said anythin'. I never intended to."

Her expression fell ever-so-slightly. "What did my father say in response to your parents' warning?"

"He didn't believe them." He answered. "In fact, he accused them of workin' with the Reaper. He said he wouldn't be fooled into such trickery."

"So... he didn't... he didn't hurt you or your parents... did he?"

Chat Noir swallowed. Not quite. "No, he didn't. We were able to get away."

"Oh good," Marinette exhaled in relief. Even a smile of solace pulled at her lips. "Because if my father had hurt you or your family, I think I'd be really distraught by it all... knowing he did those things."

Chat Noir said nothing in response to that, but no matter how many times he swallowed, he couldn't seem to get rid of the lump suddenly lodged in his throat.

If Marinette was saddened by the idea of her father causing harm to him and his family, how would she react to knowing it was actually her who had caused said harm?

_______________________________

FIRST KISS?!!! You weren't expecting that so soon, were you?

Hehe. Well... they might have sealed the deal... but it's not going to be that simple muahahahaha. There's still so much to unpack.

I'm sorry to say that the date for the next update is unknown, as I will be taking a well-needed break.

I hope to see you all again soon!

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