A/N - The time period for this story is around the 1860's. The story however is set in a fictitious world and is not intended to be historically accurate. I hope you enjoy 💜

When there's love inside
I swear I'll always be strong
Then there's a reason why
I'll prove to you we belong
I'll be the wall that protects you
From the wind and the rain
From the hurt and the pain

Let's make it, all for one and all for love.
("All For Love" by Bryan Adams)

~~~~~

Marinette collapsed onto the small cot that had been allocated to her. She was so exhausted it felt like the exhaustion had seeped into her bones. She desperately wanted to sleep, but the sound of canon fire in the distance made it difficult to relax. The battle had been steadily getting closer to where the field hospital was set up inside an old cathedral. Where rows of pews had once been, now there were rows of makeshift beds full of young men caught up in a war not of their choosing.

"Marinette?"

Marinette slowly opened her eyes and Alya's face came more into focus. She looked about as exhausted as Marinette felt.

"I'm sorry to wake you honey, but there are more casualties coming in and they need all hands on deck."

Marinette nodded her head and Alya helped her to sit up. Outside the door they could hear the rushing of feet, the field surgeon calling out for morphine and more bandages, both of which were in short supply.

"Have you heard from Ivan and Mylène?" She asked, but Alya shook her head.

"There has been heavy fighting near the river. The underground is trying to get supplies through, but it's been difficult. Come on. The head surgeon is looking for you."

Marinette grabbed a stained but clean apron and put it over her pale blue nurses outfit. Tucking her hair up into the matching bonnet she looked somewhat presentable as she caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked pale, the lack of sleep over the last few nights of heavy fighting taking a toll and making her look older than her 19 years.

The lateness of the hour meant most of the patients were in varying degrees of sleep, but that didn't stop the groans of pain that would escape their lips. Marinette stopped to scoop water from a bucket into a cup and hold it to the parched lips of a soldier, begging to quench his thirst.

"Bless you." He whispered. "Bless you." As he sipped the water. Beside him, two men were talking quietly by candlelight.

"... I heard he single handedly rescued three men that were taken as prisoners of war."

"I heard he went behind enemy lines and documents were stolen. I hope he got out with them. We need a lucky break in this war."

"I'm sure he did. He seems to be invincible. They say he has reflexes like a cat and no one can touch him."

"Stealth too. He slips in and out of the shadows. I guess that's why they call him Chat Noir."

"I wish I could meet him and shake his hand. The man is a hero, even if we don't know his name."

It wasn't the first time Marinette had heard the men talking about Chat Noir. Over the two years since the war began, the exploits of the hooded hero and his comrades had been stirring passion and patriotism among the soldiers of DuPont and they often speak of him in revered hushed whispers. Being on the edge of the border so far from the Capital, Marinette wondered if the King even knew about the bravery of those who fought for their country. How individuals, like Chat Noir, risked their lives and inspired those around them to keep fighting. She wished him luck with his mission. God knows they could use some good news in this war.

"Marinette."

She looked to find the head surgeon beckoning her at the door. The priest's sanctuary had been converted into a makeshift operating theater, and the smell of blood clung so heavy you could taste it, despite having been washed down. Marinette hoped when the war was over to never have to witness another amputation or smell that sickening metallic smell again.

"There are more casualties arriving." The surgeon said gravely. "Are there any new supplies?"

She shook her head. The surgeon rubbed his temple with his hand. "Then we'll just have to make do with what we have. You'll have to triage the casualties as they come in." He then let out a heavy sigh. "It's so easy for Kings in their castles to swipe a pen across a paper and declare war. I wonder if they even remember that it's their own sons who are paying the price for their vanity."

Marinette wondered as much herself. Their own Prince, Adrien Agreste of DuPont, was believed to have been deep within enemy lines. Rumour has it he defied his father's orders, sneaking out in the dead of night to go and serve on the front line. No one had heard from him in so long, many wondered if he was even still alive, and yet the King was still unwilling to negotiate.

The House of Bourgeois had long placed claims that the Kingdom of DuPont was rightfully theirs. DuPont had broken away from the House of Bourgeois over a century ago, yet despite this the Bourgeois', or more specifically Lady Audrey, demanded at the very least that their daughter Chloé should marry Prince Adrien and form a new alliance. King Gabriel refused, and the powerful House of Bourgeois declared war.

The clatter of horses and carts alerted Marinette to the arrival of more wounded men. Grabbing Alya on her way pass, the two women began allocating the most critical of cases to surgery. Those they knew couldn't be saved were given what morphine they could to make them comfortable. Thunder rolled in the distance, warning of an approaching storm.

"Alya, we need to get these men indoors. Round up a few orderly's to move them." Marinette said, wiping the mud from a young boy's face before an orderly took him. He looked up at her with distant eyes, the shock of the trauma he had seen written in his face.

"It's alright." Marinette said to him kindly. "You're safe now. We are going to look after you."

"They seem to be getting younger." Alya said, shaking her head as the boy was carted away. "He didn't look any more than sixteen.

"Another one that lied about his age I suppose." Marinette wondered out loud.

Alya placed a hand on her shoulder. "If the front line doesn't get pushed back soon, I'm afraid they will have died in vain."

"We can't give up hope. You've heard the men talking about Chat Noir. While ever there are men like that fighting in this war, we still have a chance."

"Do you really think they are so willing to die for their King? They say he's a tyrant in private. You've seen that for yourself haven't you."

Marinette shot Alya a warning glare before her face softened. "They aren't doing it for the King, they are doing it for their Prince, the rightful heir of DuPont."

"And if the Prince gets himself killed? I know he probably thinks he's being noble and all running headlong into war, but with no heir without him..."

"Miss! Miss!"

Alya was cut off by the frantic calls of a soldier leading a horse with what looked like a body hanging over it. A second man followed on another horse. Both men carried muskets and swords, the butterfly insignia of the King on the sleeves of their jackets. Members of the Royal Guard Marinette noted. Alya and Marinette rushed over to meet them, the men stopping to address them.

"Is this the field hospital?" The first man asked.

"Yes." Marinette replied.

"Here take these" The second man added. "Maybe it will help."

Marinette cautiously took the saddle bag he offered out to her while Alya helped the first man with what appeared to be a wounded soldier in a dark hooded cloak. She opened the bag to find morphine and clean bandages. "Thank god." She sighed in relief. "Where did you get these?"

"Don't worry about it, just help him please."

"Orderly, stretcher!" Alya called out, bringing Marinette's attention back to the wounded man. "He's in a bad way. The knee looks a mess."

Marinette, Alya and the two men followed the orderlys carrying the injured man on a stretcher. Another nurse threw a bucket of water across the table that the operations took place on, dispersing the blood of the previous man to the floor. The hooded man groaned in pain as his two companions lifted him up and onto the table. Under the hood, Marinette could see him grimace .

"Where am I?" He mumbled. "Nino, Luka, where are you?"

"I'm here." Nino said, grabbing his hand. "Luka is here too. Just hang in there Sir."

"Can't see." The man said anxiously, shaking his head from side to side. "I Can't see."

"Hold him still." The Surgeon ordered. Marinette held the man's arm while Alya carefully cut his long pants and exposed the wound. The surgeon inspected the leg. "Alright, get him ready." He indicated to Marinette.

"What are you going to do?" Nino asked.

"Take it off."

"No." Luka protested. "You can't cut his leg, it could kill him."

The Surgeon looked at the young man irritated. "Listen, I know you're worried for your friend, but I do dozens of amputations a day and more than half the men survive."

"You don't understand." Nino pleaded. "He isn't just anyone." He made sure no one was near the doorway and lowered his voice. "He's Chat Noir."

Marinette and Alya looked at each other in disbelief then back at the surgeon. He pulled back the hood that had been covering the man's face and a mop of blood stained and muddy blond hair fell out. Outside the thunder crashed and the clouds opened up, the rain pounding on the roof above them. A small gasp escaped from Marinette's lips, but she covered it before anyone noticed.

"So this is the hero of DuPont?" He said, looking at the two men.

"We are under strict orders from the Prince himself to deliver these documents into the hands of the King."

The surgeon seemed to have been contemplating his words. If they were still beer orders from the Prince, it meant he was still alive.

The surgeon looked over Chat Noir's face and inspected his eyes. A cry of pain fell from the man's lips at the intrusive touch. The surgeon then let go and folded his arms.

"The burns to his eyes should heal."

"Will he be able to see again?" Nino asked. The surgeon nodded.

"I would think so. It will take time so don't rush it. As for the leg though... if that fever doesn't break he won't make it through the night."

"I'll watch him." Marinette volunteered. "I'll stay with him all night. I'll get the fever down."

Luka looked at Marinette curiously.

"Marinette..." Alya hissed under her breath. She wanted to scold her that she was already sleep deprived, but Marinette shot her a look and she backed off.

"Alright, I'll give you until morning. But if that fever hasn't broken by sunrise, or that wound becomes infected that leg comes off, regardless of who he is, understand?"

Marinette nodded and the surgeon stitched up the open wound around the knee before he called the orderly's back to take the man to a spare bed. Marinette took her time and care to wash down Chat Noir's wounded knee and carefully wrap it in the new supplies Luka had passed on while Alya showed Nino and Luka to where they could find some food and rest.

Carefully, Marinette washed as best she could his blond hair and the grit and dirt from his face. He had superficial scorch marks around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. They were red and already starting to blister. After washing his face she wrapped a clean bandage around his eyes. In his delirium, Chat Noir was fairly unaware of what was happening to him, continuing to mumble in his restlessness. Marinette finished up by wrapping a bandage around his head to protect his eyes.

"How is he?" A male voice asked. Marinette looked up to find a more cleaned up looking Luka.

"Restless." She replied. "How are you and your friend, Nino was it?"

"I'm sorry, we didn't really introduce ourselves properly. I'm Luka Couffaine, Captain of the 1st DuPont SharpShooters. Our friend is Nino Lahiffe, my Lieutenant. Nino's sound asleep. The other nurse, Alya, took care of us and got us some food but I think exhaustion finally caught up with him."

"And he is...?" Marinette asked, nodding her head over towards her patient.

"He is Chat Noir." Luka replied with a cryptic smile. "Our fearless leader, or fearsome depending on who you talk to." He chuckled to himself at that. "We've been through quite a few adventures over the last few years. He didn't serve this."

"You respect him a lot don't you?" She asked, seeing the concern in his face at Chat's state.

"He is the very best of men." Luka replied reflectively. "We thought we were far enough away from the fighting to avoid coming under fire. I guess it must have been a rogue shot."

"So you weren't fighting on the front line?"

Luka shook his head. "Not intentionally. We've been traveling for days from deep within Bourgeois territory trying to reach the border." He tapped a satchel bag hanging across his body. "We intercepted critical information that we must get to the King. I can't tell you any more than that for your own safety."

There was a gentleness in the way he said that which struck Marinette. Then again, it was clear to her that Luka and Nino were gentlemen. Only the sons of nobles or high ranking officers were part of the King's detail, or the Prince's for that matter. She gave him a small smile. "Is that why you won't tell me his name? For my safety or his?"

Luka simply smirked. "What about you? Do I get to know the name of the woman who saved my friend's leg?"

"Marinette. And I haven't saved it yet, we still need to get through tonight first."

"Marinette...?" He raised an eyebrow at her expectantly, but Marinette shook her head.

"It's just Marinette here. Like your mysterious friend, we nurses have our secrets too, plus most of the nurses don't give out their full names to protect themselves against unwanted admirers."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"More than you think. Maybe it's the morphine, or gratitude or just seeing a female face, but sometimes the soldiers can be more amorous in their affections than others."

"I understand." Luka looked over to where Chat was shivering on the bed. "Is he cold?"

"It's the fever." Marinette replied, taking the wash cloth from Chat's face and dipping it into the bucket of water next to the bed. She wrung out the excess water and placed it back over his forehead. "He shivers because he feels cold, but his body is still overheated. It's just the body's way of fighting against the infection. If this fever doesn't break over the next few hours, the head surgeon will overrule me."

Marinette placed her hand over Chat's restless one. Her fingers grazed over a ring on his finger. It was a silver ring with an insignia on it, a paw print which was quite unusual. Luka watched her as she rubbed Chat's hand soothingly.

"You're alright." She whispered to him. "You're safe here. I'm going to look after you."

"Do you mind if I stay?" Luka asked.

"I don't mind." Marinette replied. "But I would rather you rest, Captain."

"I'll just close my eyes here if that's alright. I'd prefer to stay with him if I could."

Marinette nodded and leaned in closer to Chat. She stroked his hair and began to hum a tune. It didn't take long before she heard Luka softly snoring in the chair. Chat too had started to quiet down and she smiled to herself, continuing her ministrations and humming the tune again. As she hummed, Marinette's mind wandered back to a balmy summer night when she had first heard that tune, a night that felt like a lifetime ago now.