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Pigella cowered behind a chimney, wincing as the ground shook below her. Today’s Akuma was a tad more explosive than the usual fare, and even though Pigella felt somewhat guilty hiding up on a rooftop, she was glad to be out of harm’s way. Besides, Ladybug had asked her to stay put until she was needed, so it wasn’t like she had reason to feel bad.
In any case, any relief she might have felt evaporated the second Ladybug dropped down beside her, clutching Tigress’ limp form in her arms.
“I need you to stay with her,” Ladybug said simply.
She tried to pass Tigress over, but Pigella instinctively stepped back upon noticing the smears of red staining Tigress’ suit along the edges of a red cloth bandage—well, Pigella hoped it had been red to begin with. Because, if not…
Pigella shook her head. “I’m not great with blood.”
Her heart thudded as she waited for a response. Was she even allowed to say no to Ladybug? Then again, if a teammate’s safety was at stake, it didn’t seem fair not to be upfront.
The sight of blood reminded Pigella of uncomfortable chairs and impatient nurses. The smell reminded her of emergency room visits where her mother fought back tears. Even the thought of blood made Pigella weak in the knees, and Ladybug really needed to know that she wasn’t the person best for this job.
Except…Ladybug didn’t seem to get it.
“Please,” she said. “Take her someplace safe. She…” Something unreadable passed through Ladybug’s eyes. “I really think she’ll feel safest with you.”
Pigella highly doubted that. She and Tigress hadn’t had many interactions—Tigress was a fairly regular part of the team, but Pigella’s powers weren’t as well-suited to combat. As such, the Akumas they were called upon to face didn’t normally overlap. And whenever they did work together, Pigella had the oddest sense that Tigress didn’t really want to talk to her. She was never rude or anything, just…distant. Which was odd, because Tigress seemed to have a really good time hanging out with the rest of the heroes.
As much as Pigella tried not to take it personally, well…she was used to people liking her. Despite her best efforts, it bothered her when people didn’t, especially when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. But Pigella wasn’t being spiteful here: she genuinely didn’t think she was equipped to handle this.
She didn’t get a chance to plead her case as another explosion shook the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Ladybug said, transferring Tigress into Pigella’s arms before she could protest. “I’m running out of time—I’ve got to get back to Chat and the team.”
Pigella didn’t miss the glint of fear in Ladybug’s eyes, or the way she separated Chat from the rest of the heroes. It reminded her of the looks Juleka gave Rose on the days she had doctor’s appointments. And that kept Pigella from arguing any further.
She could understand Ladybug’s fear of being separated from someone she loved.
“Okay,” Pigella whispered, trying not to let her arms shake.
“Thank you,” Ladybug said, the relief on her face evident. “Just get her someplace safe and lay low. I’ll call you if we end up needing your power, but I think we’re going to have to change strategies anyways, so don’t worry too much.” She paused. “She’ll need something new to stop the bleeding—I used my Lucky Charm to stop the bleeding, but I’ll have to detransform and recharge my Kwami soon. I’ll…try to give you as long as I can.”
Pigella took a deep breath through her mouth and chanced a look down, noting that the bandage did in fact have black spots on it, and the red wasn’t entirely from blood. The folded cloth was secured to Tigress’ midsection with what looked to be a belt—wait, was that Chat’s belt? This was insane; Pigella couldn’t do this. Nobody had taught her how to handle a situation like this.
But then…she doubted anyone had taught Ladybug or Chat Noir these sorts of skills either. They were about her age, and they dealt with the kinds of things nobody should. And if they were counting on Pigella, just this once, she could do it.
She relaxed a little, her heart squeezing as Tigress let out a grunt and shifted in her arms. She didn’t open her eyes, but shivered and leaned her head closer to Pigella’s chest. Hopefully Pigella’s pounding heartbeat wouldn’t wake her up.
“You can count on me, Ladybug,” Pigella said, trying to sound determined.
Ladybug smiled. “I know I can.”
She tossed her yo-yo and disappeared into the smoke-filled sky. Pigella had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from calling Ladybug back.
A couple minutes later, Pigella found cover, ducking through the smashed windows of a five-star restaurant. The Akuma seemed to be heading away from the area, so she assumed it would be safe. With any luck, she might also find some help.
“Hello?” she called out, her trembling voice echoing back. “Is anyone here?”
There was no response, not even when she crossed to the other side of the restaurant and tried again. They were on their own.
Tigress groaned, bringing Pigella back to the problem at hand. She didn’t know how much time she’d have before Ladybug detransformed, so she had to work quickly. A quick glance around revealed a long table which was bare save for a tablecloth and cloth napkins. Perfect.
Pigella carried Tigress over and set her down. Tigress’ head turned to the side, and she let out a grunt, her face scrunching up in pain: she must not be as out of it as Pigella had thought.
“Hey,” Pigella whispered, grabbing one of the napkins and trying not to think about what she had to do next. Her voice trembled as she continued, “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
She hoped it wasn’t a lie.
Pigella pressed down on the cloth covering Tigress’ wound. She might not know much about first aid, but applying pressure was the most basic thing. At least, she thought so.
Once she’d secured the cloth with one hand, she used her other to undo the belt with shaking fingers. Tigress whimpered, and Pigella blinked back tears. She grabbed the napkin—the very white napkin, although it certainly wouldn’t stay that way—and pressed it over the spotted, red cloth. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped for the best.
She only noticed when the Lucky Charm disappeared because her hand slipped. It slipped too much, which Rose took to mean that Tigress’ suit must have been coated in blood. She took a deep breath and chanced a glance, freezing up for a moment when she noticed blood seeping through the edges of the napkin. Then Tigress let out another moan, and a wave of fear snapped Pigella out of her trance.
Her whole body trembled as she reached over Tigress to grab a second napkin, but she managed to secure it on top of the first. Hopefully, that would be enough. She inhaled sharply through her mouth when a spot of blood appeared some time later, but it didn’t grow much larger as the seconds ticked by.
Her relief was short-lived, demolished by the realization that there was nothing left to do. No more distraction. She was the only person keeping Tigress alive at this point, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to re-secure the belt while keeping pressure on the wound. All she could do now was sit there and wait.
She almost felt like she could taste the blood—her mouth flooded with the bitter, metallic tang of fear. Her vision blurred with tears. She felt like the walls of the room were closing in on her, stealing her breath as though she were the one bleeding out.
Tigress coughed, her abdomen seizing under Pigella’s hand. Through her blurry vision, Pigella couldn’t even tell if the napkins were still in place. This was too much. Too heavy.
Her limbs felt heavy.
Somehow, she managed to pull out one of the chairs with her free hand, kneeling down before her knees gave out. She let out a shaky sob and focused on taking slow, steady breaths through her mouth.
She wished Juleka were here. Juleka might not have known what to do either, but at least the sight of blood didn’t render her useless. And she would have known how to distract Pigella by whispering sweet nothings in her ears or squeezing her shoulders in encouragement.
If it weren’t for the Akuma, she’d be with Juleka now—a thought that made her heart squeeze with guilt. They’d made plans earlier to bake cookies. Giant chocolate chip cookies with gooey centers. Pigella knew the recipe by heart, like she knew the way Juleka always smiled after she took her first bite or what her laughter sounded like when Rose bounced impatiently by the oven.
Right now she must be confused as to why Rose hadn’t bothered to show up. Or, worse, she might have realized her girlfriend was caught up in the attack, and she might be sick with worry.
Pigella shook her head, trying to dispel those thoughts. She needed something else to focus on, so she started whispering the cookie recipe. “Three cups flour, one teaspoon baking soda, a half teaspoon baking powder…”
Pigella’s eyes flew open when Tigress shuddered, and she immediately latched onto Tigress’ unfocused gaze. Tigress was awake. Pigella wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
Tigress mumbled something, her words indecipherable as her face scrunched up with pain.
“Wh-what did you say?” Pigella asked.
Tigress groaned and let her eyes flutter closed. She forced them them open again a few moments later, her gaze more focused. “Don’t forget the salt, Ro.”
Ro? There was no way Tigress had called her that. Pigella must have imagined it—she had been daydreaming about Juleka’s hands around her waist, after all. Even if Juleka did like to tease Rose about adding salt ever since that one time she’d accidentally added a tablespoon instead of a teaspoon. But it had to be a coincidence. Nobody save for Ladybug was supposed to know her hero identity, and even if they did, the only person who called her Ro was…
No. Absolutely not.
Pigella couldn’t think about that possibility. There was no way she’d keep herself together if the person on the table was…No.
“Y-you’re right,” Pigella said, straining to keep her voice even. There probably wasn’t much point in that—she was certain her expression spelled out her terror, clear as day. “I almost forgot the salt.”
Tigress gave a strained smile and shifted her arm, wincing as she moved. She wrapped her fingers around Pigella’s wrist—the one that wasn’t pressing down on the napkins. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Pigella could only nod, worried that if she spoke she’d blurt out that this was the last place she wanted to be.
Tigress studied her. “How bad is it?”
“It’s…” Pigella glanced over. Was the spot of blood she’d noticed earlier starting to grow? She pulled her hand free from Tigress and grabbed another napkin to press on top of the other two. “You’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure.” Her voice was small, and when Pigella looked over again she noted Tigress was considerably paler than before as her eyes fluttered shut. “How are you hanging in, Ro?”
Ro? Again? And why was Tigress asking about her?
She opted to ignore the question. “I’m Pigella.”
“Mhm.” Tigress’ tone was hard to interpret through her rattling breaths, but she didn’t sound convinced. Pigella shook away the thoughts as Tigress shuddered.
“How do you feel?” Pigella asked.
“Cold. Tired.” Tigress gritted her teeth. “Also, ow.”
“Can I do anything?”
Tigress smiled, and this one seemed more relaxed, somehow. Pigella wasn’t convinced that was a good thing.
“Tell me a story?” Tigress asked.
Pigella couldn’t help but smile. “My girlfriend always asks me to do that when she wants a distraction.”
“You must be a good storyteller, then.”
“I don’t think so. I think she just loves me.”
There was a long pause before Tigress said, “I imagine she does.”
Pigella hummed noncommittally. Thoughts of Juleka were suddenly too scary to dwell on, because Juleka called her Ro and teased her about salt and asked her for stories. How could Tigress treat her the exact same way?
“You love her, too?” Tigress asked suddenly. She reached for Pigella’s hand again, squeezing when she found purchase.
“So much,” Pigella said. “Loving her is as easy as breathing.” Actually, loving Juleka was currently a hell of a lot easier than keeping her breaths steady. “I’d do anything for her.”
Tigress sighed, releasing Pigella’s wrist. She mumbled something, but Pigella couldn’t interpret it. Pigella searched for something—anything—to say, but her mind was blank. And she couldn’t very well tell a story when her words were glued to the back of her throat.
There was something she could do, though. Ladybug had said they probably wouldn’t need to use her power…so, maybe she could at least put it to some other use.
“Gift,” Pigella whispered. Tigress’ eyes blinked open again as Pigella waved her tambourine, and a gift box appeared in the air. Pigella reached out and lifted the holographic lid. A projection shone in the air between them, ringed with pink—but the background inside had the same awful, blue and yellow tiles as the Couffaines’ kitchen.
For a moment, Pigella thought she’d somehow used her power wrong—that she’d somehow summoned her own greatest desire. But if it had been her fantasy she’d be looking into Juleka’s warm, brown eyes. Instead, she saw her own blue ones sparkling back at her.
“Oh my God,” Pigella’s voice quavered. “Oh my God.”
Tigress’—Juleka’s—fingers found hers again and squeezed. “Shh, Ro. It’s okay.”
It was Juleka’s wish.
That’s why Pigella watched herself twirl around the kitchen, pretending her spoon was a magic wand. She fought back a sob when she heard Juleka giggle in the background. What if she never heard that laugh again—her favourite sound in the world?
Juleka was often quiet, but the way she loved? That was loud. That was Pigella’s entire world, and she’d be lost without it, lost if she ever had to bake cookies without someone to tease her about the salt.
The image faded, and Pigella panicked when she realized Tigress’ eyes had fallen shut again. But there was still a small smile on her face, one which widened when Pigella threaded their fingers together and squeezed.
“I l-ove y-you, Jules,” she managed, choking on sobs. “J-just ha-hang on, m’kay?”
Pigella wanted nothing more than to crawl over and kiss every inch of Tigress’ face. To run her fingers through her hair and whisper sweet nothings in her ears. She wanted the vision to come back, so she could dive inside it and finish the cookies. They’d take them to the park—maybe invite some friends, or maybe not. She’d pick flowers and tuck them into Juleka’s hair.
But she had to keep holding the bandages, so instead she settled for picking up Tigress’ hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She held on tight as she closed her eyes, feeling tears slip down her cheeks. She did her best to shut out the world and focus only on Tigress’ breathing, which grew weaker and weaker the longer they waited for the cure.
It probably didn’t take that long, but it felt like a lifetime.
Pigella didn’t notice anything had changed until she felt Tigress shift beneath the napkins. Napkins that were now clean, Pigella realized when she dared to take a peek. She stared, wide-eyed, as Tigress sat up and swung her legs over the side of the table, then she launched herself into Tigress’ arms, the force almost knocking them both onto the floor.
Tigress let out a stuttered laugh as she tightened her arms around Pigella, and suddenly it was too much. Any tears Pigella had managed to suppress before burst free like a dam breaking, and Tigress’ arms holding her tightly were the only things keeping her tethered to reality.
“Shhh, Ro. I’m okay. I’ve got you.”
Pigella squeezed her tighter.
The cure had brought people back into the restaurant—Pigella could tell from their scattered conversations—but Pigella couldn't care less what they thought of seeing a hero in tears. All she cared about was Juleka’s heart beating beneath her ear. Juleka’s arms encircling her and lifting her up. Juleka’s lips pressing a gentle kiss to Pigella’s forehead as she carried Pigella out of the restaurant.
Pigella didn’t care where they were going, so long as Tigress was by her side.
“Don’t do that again,” Pigella whispered as they turned into an alley. Her transformation timed out as Tigress set her down and whispered her own detransformation phrase.
Juleka kept her arms wrapped around Rose as she spoke. “I can’t promise that, Ro. You know that. We’re heroes.”
Rose shook her head against Juleka’s chest. “I didn’t feel like a hero today.”
Juleka’s breath hitched. “Me neither,” she whispered. “But you were. And you’re my hero every day. There’s a reason I recognized you right away, you know? You just…you make the world a better place. I always avoided you as a hero because I was afraid I’d give my identity away too.”
“I should have figured you out. I feel like I let you down.”
“Never,” Juleka insisted. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look Rose straight in the eyes. “Nothing you do could ever disappoint me.”
Rose shook her head, trying to keep her eyes from filling with tears once more. “It’s not fair. What Hawk Moth’s doing, putting people in danger…putting you in danger...”
“No,” Juleka agreed, “it’s not. But how fair is it to the rest of the world that I’m lucky enough to be loved by you?”
Rose’s heartbeat sped up, and this time it had nothing to do with fear. It had everything to do with Juleka’s eyes filling her with a warmth she could scarcely compute. Rose stretched up onto her tiptoes and slid her hands up to Tigress’ shoulders, breathing in the faint scent of vanilla body spray—Juleka already smelled like cookies.
“I’m the lucky one,” Rose whispered.
Juleka leaned down, her breath warming Rose’s lips as she spoke. “Agree to disagree.”
Seconds later their lips met, and the kiss was every bit the story Rose hadn’t been able to tell earlier. Juleka’s hand cupping her cheek told the tale of their tender movie nights spent cuddling on the couch. The hints of mint on Juleka’s breath were reminiscent of candy cane kisses they’d shared after going ice skating for their first date. That might have been one of the first times Rose had fallen for her—quite literally when they stepped on the ice, hand in hand, and she stepped right onto a rut—but she’d only fallen harder every single day since.
When they pulled away from each other, the look in Juleka’s eyes was everything Rose could ever need.