Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One second, Ms Bustier was talking about the Napoleonic Wars. And the next, she was gone.

There.

Gone.

No ‘poof’. No explosion.

Just…gone.

Adrien, sitting in his usual place at the front of the classroom beside Nino, blinked at the space Ms Bustier had been occupying only a moment earlier. Slowly, he turned to look at his friend. ‘That…that happened, right?’ 

‘If by that you mean our teacher just disappeared right in front of us, then…yeah, dude, that happened.’

Adrien looked around at the other students, who wore matching faces of incredulity, their jaws hanging open and eyes large.

‘Where’d she go?’ Rose and Mylene asked in startled unison. And maybe Juleka. Sometimes it was hard to tell what she was saying. Or if she was saying anything at all.

Almost at the same time, Ivan spoke. ‘Hey, who turned out the lights?’ 

Adrien looked up to find that Ivan was right. The lights had switched off. His eyes travelled over to the electric heating unit above the blackboard. It usually emitted a faint hum, but was now silent. 

Alya was already out of her seat, stalking to the front of the classroom and kneeling down to inspect the floor beside Ms Bustier’s desk, as if it might hold any clues to their teacher’s whereabouts.

‘Maybe there’s a trapdoor!’ Kim suggested, leaning over his desk. 

Max piped up. ‘The chances of there being a trapdoor in our classroom floor are 0.24%.’

‘Maybe it’s some kind of illusion, then,’ said Sabrina, and there were a few murmurs of assent. 

‘Check for ectoplasm,’ Nino threw at Alya, who was now running a hand over the wooden floorboards. 

She glanced up at her boyfriend, one eyebrow raised. ‘Ectoplasm?’

‘You know. Maybe she got vaporised or something.’ 

She rolled her eyes and stood up, addressing the class as if she were the new teacher. ‘I don’t see anything here to suggest what happened.’ She chewed her lip. She’d never been good with unresolved cases. ‘Marinette, what do you think?’

One by one, every student’s head angled in Marinette’s direction. Adrien, too, turned around in his seat so he could see her. 

‘Why are you asking me?' she squeaked, her shoulders drawn up almost to her ears. 

‘You’re our class representative,’ Alix pointed out. There were several nods of agreement.

Marinette flushed in that adorable way that sometimes came to mind when Adrien was alone at night and having trouble falling asleep. ‘That doesn’t mean I can explain disappearing teachers!’

‘But you always have some kind of plan,’ Nathaniel said, and he was right. Marinette was clumsy and funny and often got her words tangled up, but she was also smart. Not smart like Max. Marinette had instincts. She had imagination. 

‘O-kay.’ Her gaze slowly stopped on each of their peers…except for Adrien. In fact, she seemed to be pointedly avoiding looking at him, instead pinning her stare on Alya. ‘I think we should see what’s happening in the other classrooms.’

‘Great idea,’ Alya said, and she went to the door, throwing it open.

Adrien hung back, allowing their classmates to file out of the room and into the hallway before he stood. He’d never enjoyed crowds. Too many years of dealing with fans who imagined they had a close personal relationship with him even though he’d never met them before. And then there’d been that incident on that coach trip to the Chartres Cathedral the previous year, only a month into the school term, when he’d become a ‘superhero’. To this day, there were still kids who called him Adrien Autocar.

When the room had cleared, he headed for the door too, with Marinette just behind. They bumped into each other when they reached the doorway, and she banged into a table display on Napoleon in the corner. A tremendous cardboard cut-out of the man tumbled over, toppling into a heap of history textbooks that had been stacked on the floor. 

Marinette's hands flew to her mouth. ‘Omigod,’ she mumbled through her fingers.

Wanting to reassure her, Adrien’s next words slipped out without thinking. ‘It’s okay. It was inevitable that someone would overthrow him.’

She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. Then a weak giggle escaped her. 

Through the door, he heard the sounds of other students talking – loudly. Maybe even arguing. And in the other direction, through the classroom windows, came a chorus of car alarms.

What’s happening? 

Marinette had turned to look over at the windows, too, her arms crossed over her chest, forehead creased. As strong as he knew she was, she suddenly seemed so small. His heart pulled, and in that moment, all he wanted was to make her smile again. 

‘Hey, did you know Napoleon died in an explosion?’

Her gaze found him again. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah – he was blown apart.’

She blinked, then let out a laugh. It was perhaps a little louder than was necessary, a little forced –  more of a release of tension than anything else – but a laugh nonetheless. ‘That was terrible.’ She bent down, picking up the card-board cut-out and placing it back on the table in front of her. ‘As was his fashion sense. Do you think he designed his own awful jacket?’

‘I don’t know, but he might have had a hand in it.’ He winked at her, and she groaned.

They were both automatically picking up the books now, their hands shaking. Their fingers brushed each other, sending a shiver down his spine. From the way she drew her hand back…maybe she’d felt it too. 

He bit back an apology – for touching her and for….

No. This can’t possibly be because of….

The noise in the hallway grew louder. Something…something was clearly wrong. But for those brief few seconds he crouched on the floor with Marinette, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. As long as he remained in that classroom with her, he could shut everyone else out and pretend this moment was all there was. They never needed to open that door. They never needed to deal with what lay outside.

‘Is there even any point in cleaning up this display?’ she said, the nerves back in her voice.

‘Yes. Because Ms Bustier is going to pop right back into existence and she’ll want to know who knocked all this over.’

They shared a weak smile.

When they’d finished, he took a deep breath and opened the door, revealing chaos. Students ranged up and down the hallway, some locked in hot debate while others cried and others still hung back with ashen faces, like they’d just seen a ghost. Or the opposite of a ghost. Someone disappearing instead of appearing. 

They joined Alya and Nino, who were leaning over the railing opposite the classroom, peering down at the courtyard below. ‘What’s going on?’ Marinette asked. 

Alya shook her head, looking suddenly older than her fourteen years. ‘They’re all gone. Every last one of them.’

Adrien frowned. ‘…who’s they?' 

‘The teachers,’ Alya said.

‘Some of the students, too,’ Nino added, nervously adjusting his red cap. 

‘You mean they…left?’ Marinette said, her voice hopeful, though with an undercurrent of I don’t believe a word I’m saying.

‘More like they just…poofed right out,’ said Nino.

‘What students?’ Adrien asked.

Alya began listing names, some more familiar than others.

‘What about Chloe?’ he asked. She hadn't come into school that day, he remembered suddenly. There had been a distinct dearth of damning remarks in class that morning. 

Alya shook her head. ‘Sabrina says Chloe had a doctor’s appointment.’

This filled Adrien with relief. He hadn’t really been friends with her in a long time, but he couldn’t just erase the childhood they had spent together, when she’d been his only friend. Even if they never talked again, he’d want her to be safe and happy.

Some of the other students gravitated towards them – Nathaniel and Marc, and Aurore, who was sobbing into her hands. 

‘I c-can’t – I can't believe she just –’

‘What’s wrong, Aurore?’ Marinette asked. She placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, frowning in concern. 

‘She means Mireille,’ Marc explained. ‘She disappeared right next to Aurore, at the same time Ms Mendeleiev vanished.’ He had his head down, his ubiquitous tablet clutched in one of his hands. His dark hair obscured his expression, but it was clear from his voice that he was shaken up.

Ordinarily, the news that Ms Mendeleiev was gone would have been a cause for celebration for half the student body. 

But not now. 

Marinette got that look in her eyes, the same one that had gotten her elected class representative the previous year, and again at the start of term. ‘Wait. What do you mean at the same time?'

‘Exactly what it sounds like,’ Marc said. ‘It was instantaneous.’

‘If you had to put a time to it…when do you think this happened?’ Marinette’s voice was urgent, now.

Marc tossed a lock of hair out of his eyes. ‘10:07. I was…looking at my phone under the desk.’

Marinette’s skin paled. ‘That’s…the same time Ms Bustier disappeared. I was…I was clock-watching when it happened.’

They all shared a look.

‘What does it mean, dudes?’ Nino asked. Notably, everyone looked at Marinette again. 

‘It means,’ she said, ‘something really bad is going on.’ She stepped out of their circle and headed down the hall, into another classroom. Adrien followed, and watched her gaze move around the room, immediately landing on an object on the floor. She knelt down to pick it up and held it out to him for inspection.

It was a piece of chalk. 

His eyes travelled up to the blackboard, where oxyg had been written. The G wasn’t quite finished. As if the writer had…disappeared in the middle of their work.

Alya and Nino came into the room. 

‘I don’t like this,’ Nino said. He wrapped his arms around himself like he had a deep chill, and Alya put a hand on his arm, squeezing it comfortingly. 

Adrien didn’t like it either. He turned to Marinette, who had what he thought of as her Thinking Face on. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth puckered and she was looking around the room, taking in every object, like she was trying to work out what to do with them. More than once, he’d witnessed her contrive some highly inventive solutions to some seriously strange problems while wearing that same face. Maybe she would have the solution now.

‘Fifteen,’ she murmured.

‘What?’

She turned to him sharply, like she’d forgotten he was there. ‘Fifteen. All the students who disappeared were fifteen years old.’

‘And the teachers are all over fifteen,’ Alya said, her eyes lighting up the way they did when she was on the brink of solving a mystery.

Nino frowned. ‘I’m not following.’

‘Everyone fifteen or older vanished,’ Marinette said.

‘But…that doesn’t explain why,’ Adrien pointed out, and instantly regretted it when he saw her shoulders slump and her head hang. 

‘You’re right,’ she said.

‘But it’s a start!’ he quickly added, and his chest warmed when she shot him a small smile.

‘Dude,’ said Nino. ‘You don’t think that…happened only to our school…do you? I mean…maybe there was some kind of anomaly, like we were targeted by aliens or something, and this only happened here. That’s…that’s possible…right?’ His words were more than just a suggestion; they were a plea.

Alya said what they were all surely thinking but hesitating to voice out loud. ‘If this happened outside the school, too, then…our parents....’

They all pulled out their phones.

Marinette frantically swiped at hers, perhaps going through her contacts list. ‘I was so stunned by what happened in the classroom that I –’

‘Me too,’ said Alya. ‘I didn’t even think –’

‘Same,’ said Nino.

Adrien kept silent but dutifully brought up his father’s phone number, then noticed….

‘I don’t have reception,’ Nino said.

‘Me neither,’ they all said at once.

‘What about the internet?’ asked Marinette.

‘Nothing,’ Alya said. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘It’s like the whole grid just went down.’

They exchanged a look, and Adrien thought he knew what his friends were thinking: had their parents just disappeared, with the teachers and the older kids? He did his best to try to mimic their fretful expressions and pretend he was worried about this, too.

They rushed out of the classroom, back into the hall, where every student there was also working their phones, holding them up in the air, shaking them like that might somehow change things.

A couple of the more troublesome kids in the school ran down the hall. ‘No more adults!’ They were shouting, laughing. ‘We can do whatever we want!’

It was the first time anyone had actually said it out loud. The sound of the car alarms outside seemed to suddenly increase in volume, as if to force them to accept what was happening outside. 

‘This isn’t just confined to the school…is it,’ Nino said. 

‘Oh my god,’ Alya blurted, her eyes wide. ‘The twins! And Chris.’

‘Shit,’ Nino said in a hushed voice. ‘The little dude’s probably so scared.’

They were all scared.

Alya put an arm around him and pulled him close to her side.

‘We don’t know anything for sure, yet,’ Marinette said, her tone determined. ‘The only way to find out exactly what’s going on is to go out there and check on our families. Go to our houses and see if anyone’s there.’

‘Yeah,’ Alya agreed. ‘I bet there’s just been some kind of weird power outage and everyone’s at home freaking out because they can’t check if we’re okay.’

Adrien kept his mouth shut. Because power outages, no matter how weird, didn’t make people dematerialise. Especially not according to a pattern.

He glanced down at his hands.

Nino straightened. ‘Good! That’s good! You’re right, Marinette. We need to go home, see what’s up.’

Other students must have had the same idea, because the crowd was swiftly thinning.

‘We could split up,’ Alya suggested. ‘Nino and I will go to the kids’ school. We’ll get Ella, Etta and Chris. We’ll stop by my place and Nino’s place, and then…meet somewhere in like…an hour? My phone’s still showing the time, at least.’

‘Until all our batteries run down,’ Nino said. There was bitterness and fear in his voice.

‘How about we meet at Place des Vosges?’ Adrien said. ‘Then we can decide what to do and go from there, once you guys have Chris and the twins.’

He could feel the anxiousness hovering between them, over going their separate ways. It seemed safer to stick together. But Nino and Alya were right – they needed to get the kids, and they all needed to check their homes. 

Marinette gave a firm nod, and it seemed that they had agreed to a plan.

Alya leaned in to give Marinette a tight hug. ‘You be careful.’

‘You too,’ said Marinette.

Nino gave Adrien a small wave. ‘See you at the park, dude.’

Adrien put up a hand in acknowledgement. Then it was just him and Marinette.

‘I, um.’ She pressed her forefingers together, darting looks at her feet. ‘You don’t need to go with me.’

‘I want to,’ he said, maybe too quickly.

‘You…you do?’

‘…yeah. Is…is that okay?’

‘It’s totally okay!’ she blurted. ‘I mean – no, it’s not totally okay.’

‘You mean you’d…rather I didn’t come with you?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying at all!’ Her hands were flying all over the place, making him blink like he was at a concert with violent strobe lights. ‘I just mean that it’s a normal amount of okay if you come with me. Okay?’

‘…okay.’ She’d dropped back into that strange stammery, flustered mode she seemed to go into whenever they were alone together, and he had yet to interpret what it meant. Hopefully it didn’t mean she found him difficult to be around. For some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of Marinette not liking him. Even after a year of school, he still sometimes felt confused, still sometimes wondered if their friendship meant as much to her as it did to him. 

But then she smiled at him and it was like one of those beautiful moments after a storm, when the clouds suddenly parted and there was the sun.

‘I guess we should…get going, then,’ she said.

He blinked. ‘Oh! Yes. You, um…you lead the way.’

She started down the hall and he kept at her side, struck with the realisation that if his father had vanished too, that meant no extracurricular activities. No Chinese lessons. No fencing. No piano. No photoshoots. No expectations.

For the first time in his life, he was going to a friend’s house after school.

Chapter Text

Marinette’s heart raced as they made their way slowly across the school courtyard. Despite the confidence she had tried to inject into her words when they were in the hallway with the others, now she was charged by a sense of foreboding and dread that only increased with each step she and Adrien took towards the exit.

Groups of kids still mingled on the fringes of the court, looking lost and uncertain, their eyes following her and Adrien’s movements. Someone let out a loud, nervous laugh. 

Perhaps they should have looked out the windows, back in the classroom. But even if they had, Marinette wasn’t sure it would have been enough to prepare her for what they saw when they reached the doors and stood outside on the steps of Françoise Dupont. 

Both lanes of the road were a chaotic jumble of crashed cars, at least thirty of them, lined up one after the other. One car had veered off the road and onto the sidewalk, crashing into the wall of the school. Another was halfway up the stone barrier that hemmed in the riverside, wheels in the air like an upside down bug. A bicycle lay discarded at the foot of the steps. And on the bridge crossing the river to Notre-Dame Cathedral, a bus had tipped over and skidded to a stop in such a way that it blocked off the road. 

A group of younger students had crowded around it. Someone had even used a crashed car beside the vehicle to clamber onto the top (formerly side) of the bus. Other students were wandering aimlessly down the middle of the road, passing through the crumpled cars, taking in the destruction. It was like something out of a zombie film.

Half the bonnets were smoking. Marinette’s face scrunched up, the sharp smell of oil stinging her nose and making her eyes water. In the distance, she could see more smoke. Faint plumes rose up from behind buildings. 

The air filled with the shrill blaring of car alarms. 

Numbly, she made her way down the steps, Adrien at her heels. The closest car, directly in front, had deployed its airbags; limp, white balloons squashed flat against the inside of the windscreen. 

There was no one inside. 

Adrien stepped forwards and tried to open the door. ‘It's locked.’ 

‘But that’s –’ Marinette cut herself off as she realised. She swallowed thickly. ‘Someone was driving and blinked out.’

‘All the others are empty, too.’ 

He was right. None of the other cars showed any signs of life. There were no drivers struggling to undo their seatbelts. No cries for help. Like someone had grabbed a handful of toy cars, expanded them to a thousand times their size, and tossed them carelessly onto the street. 

There was a sudden loud sound of glass smashing. Marinette's head jerked to the left. A little further down the street, a boy she vaguely recognised as being in the year below them was holding up a fire extinguisher he’d just used to break open the front passenger window of one of the cars. 

Another boy, presumably a friend, stuck his hand in through the broken window and opened the door from the inside. There was a pause, followed by a whoop and a shout. ‘The engine’s still running!’

Adrien turned to her. ‘Should we worry about kids trying to drive cars?’

She opened her mouth to reply, when a familiar face appeared, coming to sit on the bottom step beside them. It was Alix, already decked out in a helmet and knee pads. She set down her roller skates and began to pull them on. 

‘What are you doing?’ Marinette asked. 

‘I gotta go home,’ Alix answered, quickly tightening the straps. ‘See if my dad…you know…and Jalil. I’ll get there faster like this.’

Her face was pale, anxious. Without another word, she stood and took off, a green and pink blur tearing past the boys in the car, which had now begun to inch slowly forwards. 

When they lost sight of Alix, they turned their attention back to the boys’ attempt to drive.

‘They won’t get far like that,’ Adrien remarked. ‘There’s a car blocking the way right in front of them.’

‘Unless they go on the -’ No sooner had Marinette spoken than she heard the engine revving, and the car shot over the curb and onto the sidewalk. She let out a gasp, automatically stepping back. It wasn’t going very fast – no faster than a person running – but surrounded by lifeless cars, and driving somewhere vehicles were never supposed to drive, made it seem all the more dangerous. 

The boy in the driver’s seat beeped the horn, and a couple kids standing on the edge of the path jumped out of the way. Anyone else on the street – the kids scattered on the road, and a couple others on the steps of the school – watched, captivated.

The car struggled to go in a straight line, yet somehow reached a corner and turned, disappearing from view.

‘I can’t believe they just… stole a car,’ Marinette breathed.

Adrien glanced at her, and it was hard to read his expression. ‘If there really are no adults….’

He didn’t need to finish his thought. His meaning sank in. If there were no adults, there was no law.

‘On the plus side,’ he said, ‘at least the cars are still running. That might be useful.’

She nodded slowly. ‘We should, um…get going.’

He nodded in return, and Marinette found her legs carrying her heavily towards home, Adrien right beside her. 

From the outside, the bakery looked normal. It wasn’t smoking, like the cars. No vehicles had crashed into it. And at this time of the day, the lights were never on anyway. But it was with great trepidation that they made their way over, sidestepping the car that had ridden onto the sidewalk and crashed into the school wall. At the pedestrian crossing, the lights were dark. 

Even with all the sounds of car alarms and distant shouts, the tinkle of the bell when Marinette pushed open the door still managed to sound too loud. They slipped inside and the door closed behind them, instantly muffling any noise outside. It was suddenly very quiet. 

And the bakery was empty. 

It shouldn’t have been surprising. Not after what they’d already seen. But Marinette’s stomach dropped. Her heart thumped. 

‘Maman?’ she called out. ‘Papa?’ 

Silence.

Her heart more than thumped, now. There were sharp stabs of pain and her vision grew hazy, like she might faint. She swallowed down a wave of nausea, suddenly very certain that she might throw up in front of Adrien.

She blinked away the haze, her ears ringing as she regained focus, then ran for the storeroom out back. It was also empty.

Upstairs was next – the floor right above, with her parents’ bedroom and the laundry and bathroom. Then it was the kitchen and living room. And then finally her own loft bedroom. She tore through the apartment, throwing open doors, yelling for parents she knew would not answer. 

Nothing. 

Her parents were gone. 

They’d met the same fate as Ms Bustier and all the other teachers – everyone else’s parents – all the students aged fifteen or older – and all the adults who had been driving those cars. 

Although a part of her – a very big part of her – had known this would be the case from the moment she’d seen Ms Bustier blink out of existence in front of her very eyes…the empty house was still like a punch to the stomach. Seeing her parents gone – that made it real. Whatever was happening wasn’t a game. 

Numbly, she went back down to the bakery, where Adrien was behind the counter, pulling a tray of half-baked croissants out of an oven that might never turn on again. He turned to her, and his expression told her he already knew what she would say.

She said it anyway. She had to, to convince herself to accept it. ‘They’re gone.’ Her voice wobbled in disbelief. 

How could this have happened? How was it possible for all those people – for her parents – to simply vanish? 

She took in the bakery properly, now. A rolling pin lay on the floor. A tray of chocolate chip cookies had spilled everywhere. There was a broken cookie right next to her foot. Slowly, she reached down and picked it up. It was still warm. 

She stared at it, and suddenly struggled to suck in air. Her vision blurred and narrowed. She swayed slightly. 

‘Marinette?’ Adrien was there, his hands on her shoulders, holding her steady, face only inches from her own. ‘Just breathe…okay? In for three, out for three. I’ll count for you.’

She focused on the sound of his voice as he counted, and sucked in a shaky breath. Then blew it out. In. Out. In. Out. Finally, she felt a little calmer and met his eyes.

‘You okay?’ he asked. ‘I mean – not that any of this is okay, but...’ 

Her eyes stung with the threat of tears, but she blinked them away. Now wasn’t the time for crying. She needed to think. She needed to work out what was going on. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Adrien. Some distant part of her – the part of her that was aware she’d just freaked out in front of the boy she loved – felt embarrassed.

She stepped back, forcing Adrien to drop his hands, and set the cookie down on the counter. ‘Yeah,’ she whispered. Then, in a stronger voice, ‘I’m…I’m okay.’

Like they had done with the books in the classroom, it felt only right to pick up the mess on the floor – to restore some tiny sense of order the only way they could. One by one they collected the cookies and placed them back on the tray. The rolling pin was returned to its position hanging from the wall and the oven was closed. Out back, they discovered three plump uncooked sourdoughs on the counter. After a moment's hesitation, Marinette threw them in the bin. 

When they were finished, they stood, perhaps frozen, just…listening. It was quiet. Too quiet. If she strained her ears – really strained – Marinette could still hear faint shouting from the direction of the school. But other than that, the silence pressed in all around them. The lack of noise was almost painful, and it took her a moment to place what was so unsettling about it. 

There was no electricity. 

That low, background hum they were all so accustomed to, that buzzing of energy from the dozens of electronics and appliances surrounding them almost everywhere they went – but especially here, in the heart of the bakery, where there was always at least one stove and one oven on – was gone.

‘It's so quiet,’ she whispered. ‘Like….’

She shuddered, crossing her arms over her chest. She had experienced a similar sort of silence before, in the early hours of the morning, when, for a few blissful moments as she lay there half-asleep, everything was still and serene. No cars driving on the road. No birds. No wind. 

Now, the silence was the furthest thing from blissful. 

‘Yeah,’ Adrien said in a low voice. ‘I can hear my heart. And this…ringing, in my ears.’

Her eyes widened, remembering the ringing in her own ears when she’d first entered the house. Maybe…maybe she didn’t need to feel embarrassed. Her parents might be gone, but she wasn’t alone. They were in this together.

‘We should go to your house,’ she said finally. ‘To see if…’

He frowned at his shoes. ‘Yeah. I guess.’

She studied him, thinking over how many ridiculous situations she’d got herself into with him since he’d joined their school the previous year, like when they'd evaded his bodyguard and gone to see Solitude together. But in the bakery, in that moment, he was just a boy who looked uncertain. 

She felt uncertain too. Frightened, even. She had never seen Adrien like this before. The only other time that came close was on the anniversary of his mother’s death earlier in the year – the day she’d failed to send him that video of her confessing her love for him. He was usually so strong, so positive. But now….

He had been there for her as she faced her empty home, and now it was her turn to support him. ‘Your house is only about ten minutes away. We can go there and see, and then…head for the park? I’m not sure how long Nino and Alya will be, but…we said an hour, right?’ She checked the time on her phone. ‘We still have, like, thirty minutes.’

She was hesitating a little, too. Torn between wanting to stay in the bakery, to stay close to where her parents had last been, and wanting to leave. Wanting to get out of here and escape the suffocating silence. To put as much distance between herself and the wrongness as possible. 

‘Sounds like a plan,’ he said. But he didn’t move.

‘...and then…maybe we should all think about where we’re going to stay tonight.’

He looked up at her. ‘What do you…what do you mean?’

She thought about how to put it, then went for blunt. ‘I’m scared, Adrien, and…I don’t want to be alone in this big empty house tonight.’ Just thinking about it sent a chill down her spine.

‘I…I definitely don’t want to be alone in the mansion tonight,’ he agreed.

‘So, I was thinking…we should spend the night together.’

His eyes widened.

‘I mean –’ She threw her hands up to cancel out what she’d just said. ‘Not you and me . Like…with Alya and Nino. The four of us. And the kids! A big, friendly, totally platonic sleepover.’ Her heart pounded as she waited for his answer.

He appeared to turn over the idea in his mind, then nodded. ‘I'd like that. Just…not at the mansion, okay?’

She wanted to ask why. After all, it had the most space, and probably the most food. But some urgency in his eyes told her not to voice that question.

‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘I know my place isn’t huge, but maybe we could come back here, later, or….’

He nodded again. ‘Here would be good. It’s…homey.’ He cast one final gaze around the bakery, then let out a heavy sigh. ‘I guess we’d better get going, so I can…pack a bag or something.’

‘I…I guess we should.’ She swallowed, willing herself not to scream or collapse on the floor. Because after a year of silently pining over this boy, he was not only coming to her house, but spending the night.

It didn’t make up for the loss of her parents or any of the other adults. It didn’t cancel out her fear. But it was something good to hold tightly onto as they prepared to step back out into a world that had so quickly become unrecognisable.

Chapter Text

The Agreste mansion was only a few blocks away from the Dupain-Cheng bakery – unfortunately. It seemed Adrien had only blinked and already they were standing outside the front gates, having passed yet more crashed and abandoned vehicles, and lost-looking kids decorating the streets.

Adrien’s fingers hovered over the electronic keypad where one had to enter the right code to make the mansion gates open, unable to bring himself to type in the numbers. 

He let his hand fall, then flashed Marinette a lopsided smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

‘Let me guess. Without electricity, the gates won’t open. We’re going to have to climb over them, aren’t we.’ She said this with complete acceptance, as if scaling ten-foot-tall gates was as normal as brushing your teeth. 

He blinked, then shook his head. ‘I fully expect the gates to work. My father has a back-up generator.’

‘Oh.’ She sounded almost disappointed. Like she’d already been formulating a plan for breaking in. ‘So…what’s wrong? Don’t you know the code?’

‘I do. I don’t remember the last time I actually used it, because normally I just press the call button and someone lets me in – like my bodyguard – but I…I know the code, yeah.’ As he said these words out loud, it struck him just how ridiculous they sounded. In many ways, his life was almost weirder than all the adults vanishing.

Almost. 

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Okay, then…what’s holding you back?’

He looked up at the mansion, too big and too ornate to be a home, and as imposing as his father. ‘I guess I’m…scared of what I might find in there.’ In his periphery, he caught the look of sympathy she gave him, and he knew he’d given her the wrong impression.

‘I – I understand,’ she said. ‘It was hard for me, too, but…you being there with me made it a little…a little easier. And I’m here with you, now.’

He gave her a small smile. ‘I know. And thank you. But, um…I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but…this isn’t hard for me in the same way it was for you. I’m…more scared of myself, here, than anything else.’

She tilted her head in question.

How did he explain this to her without sounding like an ass or a sociopath? How did he tell her he was afraid he might feel relieved, if his father wasn’t in there?

‘Never mind.’ He gave her a practised smile and turned back to the keypad. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’ He punched in the code and waited as the gates opened inwards.

He led Marinette to the steps up to the front door, which had been left ajar. A shiver ran through him at the sight of it. Someone must have been opening the door when they….

He swallowed, and together they crept, cautious as cats, into the mansion. How was it that he could feel like an intruder in his own supposed home?

‘The Gorilla would normally be here,’ he murmured as they crossed the foyer.

‘Your bodyguard?’

He nodded. ‘Or Nathalie – my father’s assistant.’

‘I remember. I don’t think she likes me much.’

‘She’s paid to disapprove of all my friends.’

Marinette’s brow rose. ‘Seriously?’

‘Oh, not literally. I mean…I hope not.’

He led the way up one branch of the tall staircase to the next floor. ‘Hello?’ he called out, his voice echoing across the cold tiles and marble. When there was no answer, not even a hint of sound in response, he turned around on the stairs so suddenly that Marinette bumped into him and he had to grab her arms before she could tumble down the steps.

‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘It’s…it’s okay.’

They held each other’s gaze, before he remembered he still held her, and he quickly dropped her arms. ‘I don’t think anyone’s here.’

‘You don’t want to look in some of the rooms?’

‘I, uh….’ His heart was racing for reasons he couldn’t explain. ‘It doesn’t…it doesn’t feel right.’

‘To look around your own house?’

He shook his head and carried on up the steps, to the landing. ‘If Father finds out….’

She came up beside him and he saw that she was doing it again. Giving him that look of sympathy that made him think maybe she understood more than he was saying. ‘Oh, Adrien. I knew your father was… stern, but…I had no idea you couldn’t even roam free in your own house.’ When she said it like that, it struck him just how wrong it probably was.

‘I’ve…never really thought about it, if I’m honest.’

‘Does Nino know how bad it is?’

He glanced at his shoes. ‘I mean…I don’t often get to have friends over, so….’ When he dared to look at her again, she was frowning.

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘This situation is… insane. We can’t just leave without checking every room. Your father would surely understand that.’

He doubted that but didn’t say so.

‘Besides,’ she continued, ‘don’t tell me Adrien Autocar can’t handle this. You’re the bravest kid in school.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Adrien Autocar. It sounds like some kind of cartoon. Like a bus with a face, who takes little kids on adventures all over France.’

When she smiled, her eyes sparkled. ‘Okay, but you know what I’m saying. The way you leapt out of your seat and grabbed the wheel and drove us all to safety? Come on.’

‘You rang the emergency services,’ he pointed out, just as he always did when they had this conversation.

Her cheeks flushed. ‘But you were the one who noticed the driver was having that heart attack. The nickname might sound like a cartoon character, but you really are a superhero, Adrien. You’re – you're strong, and – you can do this now. ’

He chewed on his lip, then exhaled heavily and gave one firm nod. ‘You’re right – as always. Let’s check out my father’s office first.’ It was the most off limits, and somehow that made it the prime target.

As they weaved their way through the mansion, he imagined pushing open the office door and finding his father standing at his podium, working on his tablet same as ever. 

‘Adrien,’ he would say, then fix him with those cold blue eyes. ‘Why aren’t you in school?’

‘There was an incident. All my teachers just vanished into thin air.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Adrien. Stop this nonsense and go practise your piano. I have work to do. You’re dismissed.’

He was so lost in this morbid daydream that he nearly slammed into the office door. Marinette was watching him, waiting for him to take that step and at least grab the door handle. He took a deep breath, let it out, and threw open the door, bracing himself.

‘Empty,’ Marinette said. 

‘Yeah.’ He waited for that feeling of relief, but it didn’t come. He felt completely…blank. ‘I’ve never been allowed in this room before.’

As if sleepwalking, he pushed in, sensing her following behind. He walked to the podium. His father’s tablet was there, and a green light on the side suggested it was still on. ‘He must have been working when he vanished. He would never just leave this out.’

‘You mean, all his designs are just… there? ’ Marinette nearly squealed despite everything. She hurried over. 

‘The screen is locked, though.’

‘Oh, that’s nothing.’ She picked up the tablet and blew gently on the screen, then tilted it in different directions.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Studying the fingerprints.’

Okay, yeah. She’d definitely had a plan for getting over the gates.

She swiped a pattern on the unlock screen, then handed it back to him. ‘Voila!’

Adrien could only stare at her. ‘Wow, you…really are like Velma from Scooby Doo, or something.’

She gave him a shy smile and peered over his shoulder, close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. ‘It looks like he was in the middle of writing an email.’

He looked at the screen, reading the words – and his breath caught.

N – thank you for your latest update on F and the others. It only seems to confirm my worst suspicions, especially after the recent incident with A. After all this time, I fear that all those stories about the Grimoire and the box may have not been merely myth, after all. I don’t mind sharing with you that all of it weighs heavy on the heart of this ageing man who thought his heart had turned to stone the day of E’s accident. If A is indee –

The email halted there.

‘He must have…vanished right here,’ Marinette said in a soft voice.

‘…yeah.’

Gabriel Agreste was gone. And probably so was Nathalie.

The reality of it pummelled his chest, at last. The room was spinning and he had to prop himself up on the podium.

‘Is A you?’ Marinette asked. ‘And maybe N is Nathalie and E is….’ She trailed off there, as if realising maybe his mother’s death two-and-a-half years ago wasn’t something to talk about. ‘But who is F? Or “the others”? And what’s a Grimoire? Does any of it make sense to you?’

He shook his head – too fast, only making himself dizzier. Hoping she didn’t read the lie in his eyes – he who so adamantly opposed dishonesty of any kind. Because he didn’t have answers to all of her questions, but he knew exactly what ‘the recent incident with A’ was and he…needed to get Marinette out of the mansion before she could work it out herself.

As if reading his mind, she said, ‘I…I guess now we know we won’t find anyone here. Maybe we should go to your room and pack up whatever you want to get and go meet Alya and Nino in the park.’

‘Great idea – but how about I go and you just…wait here or something?’

Her mouth fell open. ‘On my own? Um…well…to be honest…this place kind of gives me chills. It’s like I can feel his presence even when he’s not here, and….’ She rubbed her arms like she really was cold.

Adrien sighed. ‘I…I know what you mean. Even when I’m away from him, I feel like he’s hovering.’ There was no way out of what was coming. The only choice was to give her some story straight away. Something she might maybe – possibly – potentially – hypothetically – theoretically – believe. ‘I’m just a little embarrassed about my room.’

‘I’ve been in your bedroom before.’ Her cheeks went pink. ‘I mean…not often, of course, but –’

‘I know you have. But, um…. See, there was this fire –’

‘You weren’t in it at the time, were you?’ Her eyes went wide with alarm. ‘You didn’t get hurt?’

He blinked. ‘No. Marinette, you’re looking at me. I’m fine.’

‘Oh. Of course.’ She let out an awkward laugh.

‘It’s just…the damage hasn’t been repaired yet and there’s this door that’s….’ He sighed. ‘Just…yeah, let’s go.’

He grabbed his father’s tablet, then led the way again, this time out of the office and across the mansion, to his room, which seemed to have been positioned as far away from his father’s quarters as it was possible to be in the building. He held his breath as he opened his bedroom door and let her in.

If he’d been able to hide the destruction, he wouldn’t have told her that ridiculous story. But it was staring them both in the face as soon as they went in – almost a whole bathroom door conspicuously absent.

Of course , she went right up to it, inspecting the damage. ‘How strange.’

He busied himself with packing the tablet and some of his clothes into a large overnight bag. ‘It’s not that strange. Fires happen.’

‘But there doesn’t seem to be any damage to the surrounding area. It’s like the fire only happened on this door.’

‘Yeah. It was crazy. Never seen anything like it.’ He felt her stare on his back but didn’t turn around.

Because he’d just told her another lie. He had seen something like it before – not once but several times. And it hadn’t been a fire. 

It had been him.

Even now, he remembered the anger he’d felt at his father the previous week. He’d slammed his hand against the bathroom door in a moment of fury, then watched in transfixed horror as the thing had just… burned away.

It had been quick, taking only the time of a single breath. Before, it had been longer. He’d felt that burning anger make its way through his nervous system, finding his hands, making his fingers tingle with energy. Then, the eerie green glow rising from his palm, like a small moon. The moon darkening, until he held a sphere of darkness – a ‘cataclysm’, he'd started calling it in his head. The power of destruction. One touch of his hands and he could turn anything he wanted to ash.

He stared down at his hands now. Was it possible that they had somehow caused what was happening? Did his power extend to making everyone over a certain age just vanish from existence? Even without touching them?

He stuffed a few more items into his bag, realising they’d all left their school bags in the classroom. Not that it really mattered, did it? Who needed a school bag when there were no teachers? Their tablets were useful, but they would be redundant as soon as they ran out of charge. 

He lingered over a photograph of his mother that he kept on the desk, then decided to take it too. Who knew when he’d be back.

‘I’m done,’ he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder and grabbing his coat.

Marinette turned away from the missing bathroom door. ‘Great. But first, maybe we could…get a drink or some food or something? I'm starving.’

Now that she’d mentioned it, so was he. Usually, at this time of day, they would be sitting in the school cafeteria, eating their morning snack. ‘I’ll take you to the kitchen,’ he said, and he led her out of his room, relieved to put as much space between them and that door as possible.

In the kitchen, he paused, staring around the room to get his bearings. ‘I, uh…don’t come in here much. Everything is usually…done for me.’

He risked a glance at her, expecting judgement, then held his head higher when she merely nodded.

‘There's bound to be some glasses in one of these cupboards.’ She started opening them one by one, and he joined her, relieved in a way he couldn’t explain when he found the glasses first.

He filled one with tap water and handed it to her before filling a glass for himself.

‘Thanks,’ she said, and she drank it down in one go.

‘Help yourself to the fruit bowl, too,’ he said as he caught sight of it on the counter, and he filled her glass again.

She knocked back her second glass, then grabbed a banana. ‘We should pack food and bring it for the others. For lunch.’

‘Good idea.’ He drank down his water, then set the glass aside and rummaged around the labyrinthine kitchen, looking for anything worth taking and stuffing it into his bag until it almost couldn’t shut. Then he grabbed himself an apple and they headed back out of the mansion.

When they were back on the streetside, he punched in some codes on the keypad to make the gates stand open. ‘If the generator goes down, we won’t be able to get back in if the gates are shut,’ he explained.

‘That’s what you think. I have some ideas for getting over those things.’

He grinned. ‘I don’t doubt that for a second.’ He adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

‘Hey, Adrien?’ She frowned. ‘What if…what if someone else gets into the mansion?’

The thought had crossed his mind, too. ‘I guess it’s a good thing we’ll be at your house instead,’ he said.

Then he started walking, and she joined beside him, as they navigated their way through the increasingly alien landscape, to meet their friends at the park.

BONUS: A bit of totally random 'fanart' for this chapter

Chapter Text

When they arrived at Place des Vosges, around a third of the park was packed with people – or, more accurately, with kids, perhaps instinctively drawn to the growing crowd.

Standing just inside the entrance gates, Marinette scanned the masses for Alya and Nino. Although they were nowhere in sight, she recognised a lot of faces – it seemed half of Françoise Dupont had made their way here. But there were also younger kids scattered around. Some clung to the legs of older siblings, looking fearful. Others were alone, eyes seeking out anyone who would provide comfort. 

Everyone seemed to have come to the same realisation: there was safety in numbers.

‘Hey, look.’ Adrien pointed at Rose, Juleka and her twin Luka standing together beside one of the corner fountains. 

They started through the park, drawing the eyes of the other kids. In fact, she felt every single one of them watching her – or were they watching Adrien? He was regarded by most of their school as their resident hero. Probably by others, too – the story had made the news. Not to mention the fact that he was a famous model. But those stares were definitely planted on her, as well. Was it simply due to being class representative? Or was it something more?

‘How do you do this every day?’ she murmured to Adrien at her side.

‘...walk?’

‘With everyone looking at you.’

‘Ah.’ He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. ‘You learn to filter it out, after a while. Pretend people aren’t there.’

She glanced at him. ‘You make that sound so lonely.’

He kept his eyes forward.

They reached the fountain and their friends, who were encircled by a group of children she didn’t know, no older than four or five. Some sat on the grass, while two were playing inside the fountain, which was dry. The water that usually flowed from the taps was gone, leaving only small damp puddles at the bottom of the basin. 

‘Marinette! Adrien!’ Rose cried, her face filling with relief.

‘Hey,’ Marinette said wearily. ‘Um, hey, Luka.’ It had been a couple weeks since she’d last seen him, at a Kitty Section rehearsal. As ever, he had his guitar strung over his shoulder.

He smiled at her, but his face was tight with worry. ‘Hi, Marinette. Adrien.’

Juleka gave them a little wave.

Adrien set down his bag and coat, then turned in a slow circle, taking in the sight of all the kids. ‘What’s been happening?’

‘Well, there’s a daycare just over there.’ Rose pointed towards a row of apartment buildings surrounding the plaza. Marinette knew the one she was talking about. She’d gone there as a toddler. It was only a few doors down from the bakery. ‘A couple of kids came out, said they couldn’t find their carers, so we went in. There were about twenty kids total, maybe, in the first room. This one girl had cut her finger with some scissors, so I put a bandaid on, and then…they sort of…followed us out here. The ones who could walk, anyway.’

‘And… there’s no adults?’ Marinette asked, though by now the answer was obvious.

Juleka mumbled something, and Luka placed a comforting arm around her. A pang went through Marinette’s chest as she pictured her two friends arriving at the Liberty and finding no sign of Anarka.

A heaviness settled over them. What was there to say or do?

She looked around at all the young kids. Toddlers, most of them. A few four-year-olds. One was sucking his thumb. Another was carrying a pink rabbit plushie.

‘Is my mummy coming to pick me up?’ a little girl no older than three, with long brown hair and blue eyes, spoke up.

No one said anything for a moment. Then Luka crouched down so he was eye-level with the girl. ‘Not yet,’ he said in a soft voice that made even Marinette want to believe anything he had to say. ‘We just have to wait a little, okay?’

A little. A lot. Who knew how long this would go on for. How long it would be until the adults came back. 

If they came back.

A cold chill ran through her. She shivered despite the jacket she wore.

No. They had to. They had to come back. This was all just a bad dream. Some sick game. At any moment the adults would reappear. Her parents would come running out of the bakery, arms raised, calling her name….

‘Marinette?’

For a moment, she allowed herself to believe the vision had come true. Then she blinked herself back to the moment and turned to Adrien, reading the question in his eyes: Are you okay? She gave him a small nod but knew he wouldn’t buy it.

She turned back to their friends. ‘You’re looking after all these kids on your own?’ She thought of Alya and Nino, fetching their siblings.

The other three exchanged a look, and Marinette understood. None of them had considered that they were looking after those children. None of them had thought about the long term. 

‘Where are some of the others?’ Adrien asked. ‘Like Mylene or Alix?’

‘A lot of them went to their houses, to check for…you know.’ Rose said this in a hushed voice. As though their parents had become supernatural entities you didn’t want to invoke by name, lest they punish you.

‘Others went to get food,’ Luka added.

‘Speaking of…,’ said Rose.

Max and Kim were approaching. As they came closer, Marinette saw that Kim was holding a croque monsieur in a white serviette, nibbling on it as he walked. The sight of something so normal was startling.

‘So we meet again,’ Max greeted them.

‘Hey guys,’ Kim said, standing beside Adrien. ‘What’s up?’

‘Where did you get that?’ Marinette asked.

Kim shrugged, picking out a piece of ham and popping it in his mouth. ‘That cafe-bar on the corner. No adults, obviously.’

‘Did you just…take it?’ asked Adrien.

‘...yes?’ Kim said, licking the grease from his fingers. ‘Is that…bad? I would have paid if there’d been anyone there to pay, but….’

Adrien shook his head. ‘Yeah, I’m…sorry, Kim. You’re right, I guess. It just….’

‘...feels wrong,’ Marinette finished.

They shared a look. How was it that after so long silently loving this boy, in the space of a few hours it felt like he was the only one who understood what was in her mind? Because in that moment, she was certain they were thinking the same thing:

This was like the boys driving that stolen car. One more step over some line that, once crossed, meant a point of no return. Like Napoleon and the Rubicon river.

She surveyed the park again, finding the place Kim had mentioned. It was directly opposite the bakery, right at the entrance to the park. She’d eaten there once or twice. Her parents were friendly with the owners. 

‘I’m hungry,’ one of the little kids spoke up, and Kim startled, only just seeming to notice them. 

‘Feel free to go grab something,’ he said. ‘There’s plenty more where this came from. Soup, too. And cake. And half-eaten food on the tables, but that’s gross.’

Now they were encouraging children to steal. ‘You can’t –’ Marinette started to say, then stopped herself. Because who was she to tell these kids what to do? She wasn’t their mother. She wasn’t responsible for them.

She didn’t want to be responsible for them.

A couple of the braver, and perhaps hungrier, kids got up and walked off in the direction of the cafe-bar. The others then followed. It was past their morning break, after all. Not long until lunch, in fact.

‘So,’ Luka said when the littles had left. ‘What do you guys make of all this?’ He looked at Marinette when he spoke, as though her answer were most important to him. As though perhaps he still had feelings for her. The kind she’d tried to make herself feel for him, but it had proved impossible.

‘I don’t even know where to begin.’ If she said any more, she might break the way she'd started to break in the bakery.

‘Where were you when it happened?’ Kim asked Luka.

When it happened. That was how they would speak of it, now. The way people spoke about wars and terrorist attacks of the past. A major tragedy binding them together for all time, for better or worse.

‘On our houseboat,’ Luka said. ‘I was playing guitar with our….’ He glanced at his sister, then looked back at Kim. He must have meant their mother. ‘She just vanished before my eyes. I tried ringing Juleka, to see if she was safe, but there was no phone reception, so I went to the school to find her. When no one was there, I followed the crowd and ended up here. Thank god she was okay.’ He gave Juleka a long, tight hug around the shoulder and she smiled up at him.

‘Max, you’re smart,’ Adrien said, turning to him. ‘What do you make of all this?’

Max adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat. ‘Statistically speaking, the number of residents in Paris under the age of 15 comprises just 17.31% of the city’s population. The chances of the remaining 82.69% of Parisiens simply vanishing into thin air are….’

They all stared at him, waiting for him to complete that sentence, but he appeared unable to compute the odds, perhaps for the first time in his life. He cleared his throat again and looked sideways across the park, his expression tight.

‘It was probably aliens,’ Kim said, clearly thinking along similar lines to Nino earlier. 

Max looked back at Kim sharply. ‘The possibility of intelligent extraterrestrial life on other planets is there, but….’ He shook his head. ‘At first, I thought Ms Bustier’s disappearance was some trick of the light. There have been optical experiments conducted whereby multiple lenses are used in conjunction to bend light around an object, thereby rendering the object invisible. However, there were no such lenses in the classroom, and this experiment certainly does not extend to every adult in Paris, particularly those driving cars.’

‘Maybe it was magic,’ Rose suggested, her eyes wide. She clapped her hands and gave a little jump, like she’d just solved all their problems. ‘Maybe someone had a magic wish and made everyone disappear!’

Juleka nodded beside her.

Max looked the way Marinette imagined he must have looked when he’d first discovered the internet was down. ‘Magic,’ he scoffed. ‘Magic is not real, Rose. This is the twenty-first century. We have science to light our way, now.’

Marinette wanted to agree but couldn’t. Because magic did exist. She’d seen it with her own two eyes, not just today but before. 

Before everyone had disappeared.

Memories she’d tried so many times to push out of her mind, to pretend had never happened, now slammed into her consciousness – and she gasped.

Adrien turned to her, his brow lifted in alarm. ‘What is it?’

‘Oh god…,’ Marinette whispered. ‘Maman, she…she wasn’t at the bakery today…. She was babysitting Manon.’

‘Manon?’

‘Yes, she –’  Marinette swallowed her growing panic. ‘She’s Nadja Chamack’s daughter. You know, the newsreader? Nadja’s friends with Maman, and she used to babysit me when I was little, so sometimes we – Maman – babysit Manon.’

Adrien was frowning. ‘Manon wasn’t at your house,’ he said slowly, like he was putting together the pieces and now beginning to see the picture that had already formed in Marinette’s head.

‘I’m trying to remember what Maman said this morning. I think they were going out for the day – to the Eiffel Tower, maybe. Oh god, Adrien, what if – what if she’s all alone? She’s only five – she can’t look after herself – she doesn’t know –’  

A horrible image of Manon toppling over the edge of the Eiffel Tower filled her mind, and her throat tightened.

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder, instantly warming her. ‘We’ll go get her. Right now, if you want. It’s half an hour away, if we walk fast. Then we’ll come back here and meet with Alya and Nino just like we planned…okay?’

Marinette swallowed again, managing a nod. ‘Okay.’ She turned to the others. ‘When Alya and Nino get here, could you –’

Her words were cut off by sudden shouts from across the park. ‘Fire!’ someone screamed. ‘There’s a fire!’

Every head whipped around to see. Black smoke billowed out of one of the apartments bordering the park over on the other side, and it was then that Marinette became aware of the smell, strong and acrid. Smoke.

They should have run. Found shelter. But they were a couple hundred kids with no guardians, and they rushed towards the fire to watch, like it was a film rather than real life. Like the danger could not reach them as long as they stayed behind the park fence.

Marinette and her friends watched, too. It felt impossible not to. Flames licked the windows and the smoke swirled up into the sky. Even in those few seconds, the intensity of the blaze seemed to have increased tenfold. 

Then they heard it: a scream from within the inferno.

‘There’s someone in there!’ a boy cried.

Not just someone. A young girl, from the sounds of it. Trapped in there. Scared and alone. 

Just like Manon. 

Marinette’s chest thumped with panic. She wanted to do something, but… what? Perhaps everyone else had the same thought, because they simply stood, not moving, observers captivated by the horror. What did one even do when there was a fire?

Call the fire department.

But there was no way to call now, and no firefighters to answer anyway. 

No help was coming. 

They were on their own. 

A movement at her side tore her out of these bleak thoughts. ‘What –’ she started to say, then stopped, rooted to the spot. Because it was Adrien – running for the building, weaving between the crowd, and shouting for people to move out of the way.

BONUS: A cover image! 

Chapter Text

The apartment building bloomed with flames, seeming to reach for the midday sun. Adrien stared, transfixed. Then he heard the little girl’s cry from within and his feet were moving without a second thought.

‘Adrien!’ Marinette called behind him as he stormed through the startled crowd, towards one of the exits in the fence surrounding the park. ‘What are you doing!’

‘What does it look like!’ he yelled back without turning around, without pausing. If someone didn’t act fast, that girl was going to die.

It was only at the doorway, when he took that step over the building threshold, that a voice in the back of his mind asked why that someone had to be him. But the girl’s cries were louder, so he pushed the voice away and surged forward.

He threw his arm over his nose and mouth. There were no flames on the ground floor, but the building was filled with dense smoke, making it hard to see, and his eyes stung like someone had just sprayed them with lemon juice and maybe rubbed them with chillies. It was already a struggle to breathe, and he coughed, forcing himself not to waste each breath, holding them as long as possible.

The air was thick with the awful smell of burning plastic. At least the fire wasn’t downstairs yet. It was probably confined to where the –

The girl screamed, and he followed the sound, heading for the stairwell. The smoke grew denser as he climbed. When he hit the second floor, he saw the fire within the building.

‘I’m coming for you!’ he rasped out as loud as he could manage, then threw his hand back over his mouth.

By now, he could hardly breathe. He’d be no good to anyone if he passed out on the stairs.

On the landing was a large window, one that could be pushed open when unlocked. He unlatched it and shoved it, but it wouldn’t budge, tight from disuse. He leaned against it, but his strength was fading quickly due to heat exhaustion. He could feel himself slipping, and panic stole into him, surging through him like the flames through the building.

Then – he felt it. The energy brewing in his veins and his nerves, rushing into his hands. He pressed his palms against the window, watching the glowing green dance under his skin, as if it were happening to another person. Watched it go black. Watched the window burn away.

Cataclysm.

Air rushed in. The injection of oxygen would only make the flames blossom further, but he gulped it down with great gasping breaths. It was dizzying and he steadied himself, both hands gripping the window frame, vaguely noticing the crowd watching below. Noticing Marinette staring up at him with frightened eyes.

He turned and continued his mission, hunched over himself, keeping his head as close to the ground as possible without resorting to a crawl. The girl’s screams had grown louder and he scrambled to a door that surely led to her apartment. Without thinking, adrenaline controlling his movements, he slammed his hand on the door and let it dissolve. He was met by a wave of flames, and he doubled backward, his eyes sealed shut against the bright vision.

When he forced them open again, he saw a path between the flames. At the end of the path, like Moses parting the Red Sea, was the girl. Somehow, she didn’t look even slightly scathed.

How is that possible?

He staggered into the room, where the furniture was ablaze and the walls were deconstructing, and he knelt in front of the girl. 

‘I’m here to – get you –’ Coughing fits prevented him from finishing his sentence. He dodged a chunk of ceiling plaster that came down beside them. A long wooden beam that had come off the wall fell towards them, and reflex made him throw out his hand. The beam blackened and disintegrated on impact.

When he looked back at the girl, her face was not what he expected. She didn’t look grateful to her saviour. She looked terrified – and something more.

As if in slow motion, he watched her put up her hands. Flames erupted from her fingertips and palms, and yet her skin did not burn. It wasn’t merely fireproof. The flames were coming from her .

She made this fire.

He wanted to tell her that he was like her. That he did things without knowing how, too. That it was okay to be scared, and he would get her out of there and they could be scared together. But she was already aiming those hands at him.

Fire flew from her fingers as if from a flamethrower, and he threw his hands up too – an instinctive self-defence gesture, to block his face from the attack. That’s what he told himself. But the energy was in his fingers before he could stop it and the green light burst out of his hands the way fire burst from hers.

The light went black as it sought its target – landed – and the girl fell backwards, hitting her head against a wall. There was a loud cracking sound.

He came back to himself and dropped his hands, suddenly too, too aware of what he’d just done. Even amid the walls of fire, time seemed to have stopped, and it was just him staring at the girl. Her skin had gone black, charred from his own kind of fire.

He flew to her, grabbing her and slinging her over his shoulder, then ran out of the room before it could all come down. Without her to control it, the flames were now crossing the open pathway, and he made it out just before the whole place was engulfed.

With fire seeming to follow him, he tore down the stairs with her, coughing his way down each step. If he could breathe, he might have cried. He wanted to cry. He wanted to….

When he made it to the front door downstairs, Luka and Marinette were there, a crowd behind them. Luka wordlessly took the girl from him, while Marinette grabbed his hand and led him quickly through the sea of spectators and away from the building, back into the park and to the fountain in the centre. She was coughing, too, face scrunched up. 

Statue-like, he stared up at the building, which was now coming down fast. There were no firemen. No hoses. No way to save the apartment. But at least it appeared it would not spread, eventually burning itself out. At least no one else would….

He felt Marinette’s hand on his, tugging, reminding him that he was alive. That he was still in the world.

‘Sit down,’ she instructed, and she pulled him down to the grass with her. She’d removed her jacket and maybe rubbed it in the last dredges of the fountain, because it was wet. She started wiping his face and arms with it. The water felt shockingly cold after all that heat, but the gesture felt so warm.

He stared down at the ash coming off on her jacket. What did he look like? What did the girl look like?

He glanced to the side and saw the crowd gathered in a circle.

‘I need space! Move back!’ Luka was yelling from within.

Marinette lightly slapped Adrien’s cheek, bringing his eyes back on hers. ‘Hey. Stay with me, here. Take deep, slow breaths, okay?’

He nodded numbly and did as he was told. He’d always been good at following orders.

‘He said move back!’ Ivan called, and he barrelled into the crowd, causing kids to draw aside like curtains, revealing the body on the grass and Luka kneeling over her. Her flesh looked like it had been eaten right away, the bones visible. Even from where Adrien sat, he could see that her face was partly gone, eyes bugging out of their sunken sockets like someone was squeezing her head. 

‘I said slow breaths,’ Marinette reminded him.

He was trying, really trying, but terrible thoughts were cycloning through his mind.

I killed her. She was just a frightened little girl. How old, even? Maybe eight? Nine? And I…I….

It should have been me. It should have –

The scene blurred. Through the haze came his friends’ voices.

‘I found this tablecloth in the café,’ Kim said.

‘Thanks,’ said Luka. ‘You can go ahead and…cover her.’ The sadness was audible in his voice.

The haze began to clear, and Adrien sensed a shadow hovering over him. He looked up and met Luka’s questioning gaze.

‘What happened in there?’ Luka asked. 

The crowd were now encircling them, all eyes on Adrien. He swallowed. ‘I…couldn’t get to her in time. She’d already been hit by the fire.’

Luka gave him a look so penetrating that Adrien was certain he could read the lie in his face. He only released the breath he was holding when Luka finally nodded. ‘That was a pretty incredible thing you did.’

That was one way of putting it.

But from the looks on everyone’s faces, they all misunderstood. He recognised their shared expression. It was the one they gave Adrien Autocar. That look of awe and respect.

He leaned to the side and threw up on the grass.

Marinette drew back, giving Adrien space to let the tension out of his body. When he sat up again, he looked hollowed out. His face was streaked with grey, his clothes charred and smudged with ash. Bits of sick stuck to his mouth and chin. He wiped it away with his sleeve. 

What had he been thinking, running into a burning building like that?

What had he been thinking the day he’d saved that coach driver?

Probably, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d just run on instinct – an instinct to rescue. Her heart swelled with love for him. 

But also fear. Because this wasn’t like the Adrien Autocar incident. That morning, on the drive to Chartres, she’d been looking out the window, enjoying the scenery. Then cries of surprise had drawn her eyes to the front of the bus, where Adrien was suddenly at the wheel, steering it to the side of the road and shouting for someone to call the emergency services. That had been her cue to spring into action.

It had all happened so fast that she hadn’t realised how much danger they’d been in until it was all over. Then the what ifs began to haunt her dreams, until she finally accepted that they were all safe.

But this time…this time, she’d watched him run into that building. Watched the smoke. Watched the flames. And waited.

Adrien could have gotten hurt this time. Seriously hurt.

She felt like being sick herself.

‘You okay, Marinette?’ asked Luka.

She didn’t have the words to reply.

More friends approached, including Mylene and Alix.

‘Adrien, man….’ Alix shook her head in awe. ‘Running into that building like that…it was sick .' 

‘Incredible!’ Rose agreed.

Juleka nodded and mumbled something.

‘You’re a true hero, Adrien,’ Mylene declared. She was carrying a bottle of water, which she passed down to him. He stared at it like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to do with one, then unscrewed the lid and took a long drink.

He handed back the bottle, then held his knees and stared blankly at his shoes – and Marinette thought she knew why. Because he hadn’t managed to save the girl.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was what he’d tried to do. Even if….

Her head craned around in the direction of the body – the body – now covered with a tablecloth to prevent voyeurism, with Ivan standing guard. Bile rose in her throat as the reality of the situation punched her in the gut. Someone had died. 

Someone.

Had.

Died.

When she looked back at Adrien, she thought she knew what he was feeling. 

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she tried to reassure him, but her words were hollow, and he didn’t look up. He was staring at his hands now, like they were foreign objects. 

‘What happened?’ a wonderfully familiar voice asked behind her.

She leapt to her feet and whirled around. ‘Alya!’ She threw her arms around her friend, never more grateful to see her and Nino, and was blubbering before she could stop herself. ‘There was a fire. We all ran over and heard a girl crying for help and Adrien…he….’ She looked down at him again, suddenly struggling not to cry. 

‘He ran right in there to save her!’ Rose enthused.

‘Whoa.’ Nino adjusted his cap. ‘So she’s okay?’

‘No,’ Adrien suddenly spoke up in the coldest voice Marinette had ever heard him use. ‘She’s dead.’

Everyone fell silent. The new arrivals followed his numb stare to the small shape under the cloth.

Alya let out a soft gasp, and Nino grabbed her hand, pulling her close.

‘Is that….’ Alya seemed unable to finish her question. Probably she didn’t want to hear the answer. Then it would be a reality she had to deal with, a vision to haunt her at night.

Like it will haunt me. Like it’s already haunting Adrien.

Nino whipped off his cap and held it over his heart in respect.

For the first time, Marinette noticed the kids behind them – Ella, Etta and Chris…and others. Maybe thirty children aged six to ten, grouped together, some holding hands, all casting frightened looks at either the body or the burnt remains of the building behind.

‘All those children …,’ Marinette breathed.

With difficulty, Alya dragged her gaze away from the body and back to her friend. ‘Yeah, so…we went to le primaire, like we said, and….’

‘We couldn’t just leave them all there,’ Nino finished. 

Alya nodded, pressing her boyfriend’s hand. She took a deep, shaky breath. ‘And we were thinking: what about all the other kids? All the ones that didn't come with us? Or the ones at other schools?’

‘Babies, even – who’s going to feed them and take care of them?’

Marinette staggered backwards, feeling dizzied. ‘Manon,’ she said so quietly that she didn’t think anyone had heard her.

But then Adrien was on his feet beside her. ‘If this fire hadn’t happened, we could have rescued her by now.’

She met his eyes and nodded, swallowing. 

‘Manon?’ said Alya, and her eyes widened. She’d helped Marinette babysit her sometimes. She knew it was more dangerous for Manon to be out on her own than it would be for a typical five-year-old.

‘We were about to go to the Eiffel Tower to see if she was there, when….’ Adrien swallowed, then held his chin a little higher. ‘We can still do it. It’s only midday.’

Marinette gave a firm nod, then turned to Alya and Nino. ‘We were thinking maybe we could all crash at my house tonight. You know…comfort in numbers.’

‘I like that idea,’ said Alya. ‘Nino and I can go gather some of our things and meet you back at the bakery later.’

Marinette dug into her pocket and handed Alya the key. ‘We might be late. You go there first and wait for us.’

Alya and Nino nodded together. ‘We’ll get the kids some food, first. Someone at the park entrance mentioned a café?’

Adrien nodded and indicated in the direction of the café bar, where others had gathered, the body already quickly being forgotten, like last week’s episode of a TV show.

Or maybe that was unfair. Maybe they were just trying not to think about it. Doing what they could to cope.

‘We also…I brought a bag.’ He pointed at where it lay by the fountain. ‘There's some food in there, too. If you want.' 

Nino and Alya nodded again, then led the kids over to the cafe-bar, some of their other friends heading off with them. The show was over and the crowd had thinned, leaving Marinette alone with Adrien and Luka. 

Adrien went to the fountain, grabbing his coat and bringing it over. He held it out to Marinette. 

‘Your jacket’s still wet,’ he said quietly. ‘You can borrow this.’

‘I'm not –’ Marinette started to say, but she was cold. Being mid-November, it was too chilly for just her shirt. She glanced at the ground, where her damp, dirty jacket lay discarded, and accepted the offer with a tiny nod. ‘Okay. Thanks.’ 

Adrien held open the coat, and she slipped her arms into the large sleeves. Even though he hadn’t been wearing it before, it still managed to feel so warm, like he was wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. 

‘Did you want to get something to eat before we go?’ he asked. 

She shook her head. ‘I just want to find Manon. I want her to be safe.’ She forced herself not to look once more at the shape of the body on the grass. 

He nodded, maybe reading her thoughts. ‘I don’t think I can stomach anything myself, anyway.’

Luka cleared his throat. ‘What should we do with…?’ He gestured with his chin at the body.

Understanding sank in like stones, weighing her down. Because that wasn’t just a body. That was a little girl. Someone’s child. Someone’s daughter.

With a name we don’t even know.

For the second time, Luka was looking to her for the answer.

‘Why –’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Why are you asking me?’

He seemed to bore holes into her with his eyes, like she was missing something obvious. But she was too tired to work out what could be on his mind. Tired and anxious to find Manon. That was something she could do, something to focus on.

‘You should bury her,’ Adrien croaked out. His hands clenched into fists.

Luka blinked at him. ‘Wait, what? Me?’

But Adrien had already started across the park, not looking back. Marinette threw one apologetic glance at Luka before hurrying to catch up.

They couldn’t let another little girl die. They needed to find Manon.

Some art for this chapter:

Chapter Text

The easiest way to the Eiffel Tower was to head west along the path beside the Seine. Perhaps not the fastest route, but the last thing Marinette wanted was to travel through the streets, and she sensed Adrien felt the same.

They needed to be alone.

They walked without speaking, only the sound of their footsteps on the pavement breaking the silence. Marinette had never heard such quiet outside. The car alarms had long ago stopped wailing. There was no sound of traffic. No planes or helicopters. No shouts or talking as they left the park further and further behind. No wind. Everything was still and quiet, as if the world was holding its breath. 

In the park, with so many kids, it hadn’t been as apparent. But now that they had struck out on their own, it hit her just how big Paris was. A tremendous, sprawling city, dense with buildings and cars – cars in collision heaps. Some had burned and charred, but thankfully there didn’t appear to be any more active fires.

For now.

Normally, she would have been hugged by the commotion of the bustling population. Now, she held herself, feeling small in the face of the urban landscape, in the absence of the thousands of people who should have been going about their day alongside her.

She glanced at Adrien. His face was blank, his eyes hollow as he stared ahead. She could almost see him blocking things out, compartmentalising. Focusing on only the task at hand, like she was.

The blankness was a mask, but she could see through it. He was working hard to hold it together, like she’d been doing ever since she’d confirmed her parents were gone. They had to keep moving. If they stopped, they wouldn’t be able to bring themselves to keep going, to make themselves put one foot in front of the other without collapsing.

Her own legs were wobbly, her head woozy from the little smoke she had inhaled as she’d stood in the doorway, waiting for Adrien to come out of that apartment building. She could feel a headache growing and the adrenaline of the last half hour was fading rapidly, leaving her limbs heavy.

Adrien actually went into the fire. He carried that girl out and….

The girl is dead. She died.

Her mind spun with images of the burning building. Adrien rushing in. The sounds of the fire. The girl screaming. Adrien stumbling out. The girl’s body in his arms. Her face….

It was all too loud. The images were too loud, blaring in her head. She resisted the urge to scream. To make some sort of loud noise. Anything. 

‘The water is still,’ Adrien spoke suddenly, making her jump. 

The word ‘what?’ was on her lips, but then she followed Adrien’s gaze to the Seine running alongside them.

No. Not running. There was no more current. It was as flat as the water in a bath. A small boat – a boat that should have, at the very least, been drifting along – stood stranded in the middle of the river, utterly still. 

But how could a river stop running? That doesn't make any sense....

‘There was no water in the fountains,’ Marinette said, her voice hoarse. ‘Running water, I mean….’

Adrien nodded. He had noticed it, too.

Neither of them openly carried that idea to its natural conclusion – that if they didn’t start thinking about these sorts of things, they might soon find themselves in serious trouble.

‘The whole city is…so eerie ,’ she said. ‘All these cars…. There should be people driving them.’

‘Strolling along the river,’ he said.

‘Watering plants on their balconies.’

‘Sitting outside the cafes, drinking coffee.’

‘Walking their dogs.’

Dogs . As if on cue, she saw one in the distance, dragging its leash behind and sniffing the ground, maybe searching for its missing master. There would be more out there – dogs and cats and other animals, needing water and food. Her next-door neighbours had a cat. Who was looking after Mr Whiskers now?

She swallowed down a fresh wave of panic and focused on the sound of Adrien’s breath, loud in the unnatural silence.

Manon , she chanted in her head. We have to find Manon.

They carried on down the riverside, passing Pont des Arts, normally crowded with tourists taking photos and lovers adding their padlocks to the fence. There was no one there, now. Just the locks, remnants of the love of people no longer in the world.

Where had they all gone?

A while later, they passed the Louvre, also eerie in its emptiness, a lone pyramid with no purpose. Alix’s brother and father would normally be working there, at that time. Now Marinette had to hope they were somewhere safe with her parents.

They climbed the steps onto the Debilly footbridge. Her body felt numb as they crossed the Seine. She glanced to her right and blinked at the landscape. It seemed to stop suddenly, no longer extending into the distance. Like all the buildings after a certain point had just…disappeared.

The air was faintly milky, like she was looking through a pane of frosted glass. Was she seeing things, now? She rubbed her eyes, but the strange illusion did not go away.

‘Where’s the Trocadero? And what’s –’ She didn’t finish her sentence, unsure how to proceed.

‘I don’t know.’ Adrien’s voice was quiet. He was frowning at the distant air. If she was seeing things, he was too.

The Eiffel Tower stuck out over the autumnal trees. They stepped off the bridge and took a right at Quai Jacques Chirac, and more of the tower came into view. Immediately she noticed that it too looked strange – and not just because the surrounding park was devoid of visitors. The scene was odd in a way she couldn’t place. Like there was something missing. 

They passed a row of parked vespas that would likely be waiting to be reclaimed for a long time, if ever. The trees stood too still. 

‘There’s no wind,’ she realised. 

Adrien’s brow lifted, and he turned his head in both directions, maybe studying the trees too. ‘You’re right. For November….’

It was unheard of. There was not even the slightest swaying of leaves, the branches instead appearing frozen like statues. 

As she surveyed the park, it hit her what else was wrong. ‘Adrien, the….’

He seemed to have spotted it at the same time. ‘Where’s the rest of the park?’

A hundred feet away, footpaths appeared to halt abruptly. The trees didn’t go far enough back. 

And the tower…the tower only had two legs.

It was as if the other legs and the landscape beyond just weren’t there.

Like the adults.

Without speaking, they made their way down one of the footpaths, to where it ended. Up close, it was clear that the air was not air at all, but a solid wall. A greyish-white, opaque wall.

They stared at it. And stared at it some more.

Then Adrien reached out and placed his fingers on the surface.

‘Wait –!’

‘Argh!’ He leaped back with a hiss of pain, clutching his hand, his eyes wide.

‘Are you okay?' Marinette cried.

He gritted his teeth, face pinched. ‘Y-yeah.’ He lifted his hand in front of his eyes. It was shaking. ‘It just…it hurt. Like – like a bur –’

He cut himself off, but she knew what he’d been about to say.

Like a burn. 

Ash still smeared his fingers, but the pockets of clean skin had turned pink, like they’d spent a little too long in the sun.

She looked back at the solid air. ‘It’s some kind of…barrier,’ she whispered.

He nodded beside her. ‘I wonder how far it extends.’

She swallowed. She hadn’t yet processed the fact that the adults were gone. She wasn’t sure she could take the idea of being walled in, as well.

The wall rose as far up and stretched as far sideways as she could see. Now that she’d opened her eyes to it, it was obvious. Tree after tree had been cleanly sliced in half by the creamy wall. But they showed no signs of collapsing. Almost as if….

‘The other halves of the trees are on the other side of the wall,’ she murmured. ‘And maybe the rest of the tower?’

‘And the rest of Paris.’

She shuddered, thinking of the missing buildings she’d noticed from the bridge. Aliens , Kim and Nino had said. Suddenly the idea didn’t sound so funny.

‘What does it mean?’ she breathed.

‘I don’t know. But it’s not good. None of this is good.’

‘We need to find Manon,’ she said with fresh urgency.

Adrien nodded wordlessly, and they headed for the tower. They’d barely made it ten steps when he paused and knelt on the ground. ‘Is that…a pigeon?’ He let out a loud sneeze, then shook his head. ‘Okay, yeah…definitely some sort of pigeon.’

She did not say bless you , her attention stolen by the dead bird. ‘Are those…claws?’

In the place of normal pigeon legs were two gnarly claw-like limbs, hooked and sharp. Like someone had cut off the claws of an eagle and stuck them to the bottom of the pigeon. Except they melded perfectly, disappearing into the pigeon’s feathers, like they’d always been there. 

Just looking at them made her stomach twist.

Adrien sneezed again and stood up, taking a step back. ‘Sorry. I guess at least that’s one thing that hasn’t changed, though. I’m still allergic to feathers.’ He gave her a weak, lopsided smile, and once again she was grateful that if she had to live through this, at least he was with her.

They carried on walking. When they hit the tower, they walked down one side, peering underneath the enormous structure and inspecting it from all visible angles. Like the trees, it had been sliced in two by the barrier, the back half completely gone. From the top to the bottom. As if someone had cut right through the middle, leaving a cross-section of it. Like one might do with an apple or a slice of bread. Yet it still stood. It had not toppled over in a great groaning of iron.

She stared up the tower. Somewhere up there might be Manon. Unless she was in the other half of the tower. Is she out there, on the other side? Is anything still out there?

If she was up there, on their side of the barrier…was she scared? Had she touched the wall? Had she gotten hurt, like Adrien had?

Marinette was ready to run all the way up the steps until she was holding Manon in her arms, but a sound stopped her. It was coming from around the tower, maybe at one of the entrances on the other side.

Crying.

Adrien was already running straight towards it. She rushed to catch up, and in a few seconds, they reached it at the same time. A lone stroller stranded on the pavement a short distance from the tower, as if the mother had been going for a morning walk.

She gasped in recognition as she spotted the baby in the stroller. ‘It’s August.’ He was wailing, cheeks soaked with tears, squirming and trying to free himself from the straps keeping him in his seat. 

‘Who?’ Adrien said. 

‘He’s –’ Marinette suddenly felt like crying. ‘I come here to draw sometimes, you know? Here or the Trocadero. For inspiration. And August’s mother, Floria…she’s always around here, too.’

Not anymore.

‘So I sort of…. Well, I know them a little. August is…he’s just over a year old, I think.’ It hit her that they were just standing there, watching him cry. She reached down and unbuckled his straps, lifting August out of the stroller and bringing him to her chest, hugging him.

He was probably hungry and scared. He had to have been there for hours, all alone. She squeezed him tighter.

‘Mama,’ he whimpered into her shoulder, his small hands gripping the coat she wore. Adrien’s coat.

‘Shhh,’ she said. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ Her voice was thick, and tears prickled her eyes.

‘Marinette….’ Adrien’s voice was soft. He was watching her, his eyes sad. In his hands were a small unopened packet of baby biscuits, a sippy cup, and a dummy. ‘I found these in the stroller.'

When she nodded, Adrien opened up the packet. She adjusted August so his weight was at her side, on her hip.

‘Here you go, little guy,’ Adrien said, holding out a biscuit. August’s eyes were still wet, his cheeks rosy and puffy. He reached out, grabbing the biscuit and pushing it into his mouth. They watched him eat. Then Adrien handed him the sippy cup, still half filled with water. August drank. They stood there silently as he finished and ate another biscuit, then handed him his dummy. 

Adrien looked down at the ground. ‘We should head up. We’ll bring him with us.’

‘Okay,’ she whispered, and they walked back to the tower. August rested his head on her shoulder, exhaustion seeming to take over. She thought of the other babies who had to be out there, alone and afraid. All the little kids Alya and Nino had mentioned. But what could they do? They couldn’t get to all of them. It was impossible.

She blinked several times to clear the wave of dizziness that had hit her at this thought. A new sound reached her ears. Faint yelling from far up the tower.

They stopped at an entrance and stared up.

‘There are kids up there,’ Adrien said.

‘Manon,’ Marinette said, her heart racing. She glanced at one of the lifts, stopped halfway up to the first floor. Thank god it didn’t look as if there were any people in there. ‘The electricity…the lifts….’ She adjusted August again so he was sitting more comfortably on her other hip. Already he was growing too heavy for her tired arms.

Adrien gave her a long look. ‘I guess we’re going to have to use the stairs.’

She stared up the tower, trying to remember how tall it was. Three hundred metres, was it? More, to the very tip? ‘I once took the stairs up. I think it took maybe twenty minutes to get to the first floor.’ She glanced down at August, in her arms. ‘I guess it’ll take longer, with him.’

‘I can take him,’ Adrien offered.

She shook her head. ‘I can manage. But…maybe we could take turns? If I get too tired?’

‘Absolutely. Just let me know when you want to hand him over.’

Perhaps knowing he was being talked about, August gurgled. He was sucking away at his dummy, but that wouldn’t keep him occupied forever.

One problem at a time.

‘I guess we’d better make a move,’ Adrien said.

Marinette nodded, and together they started up the steps.

Chapter Text

They took it slowly up the steps of the Eiffel Tower, because of August. Adrien also still felt weak from smoke inhalation and the weight of his own guilt. The little girl he’d killed…she’d once been a baby, just like August, gurgling away in someone’s arms, wanting only to be kept safe. And now she was….

He focused on Marinette, who had gained on him despite the extra baggage. Focused on her reassuring presence, and the task at hand. There were other children to save. He would not let them down like he’d let down that nameless little girl.

At some point, he noticed Marinette’s steps slowing, even if she didn’t complain of growing tired, and he nudged her and held out his arms. She gave him a weak smile and handed August over. Holding him was strangely comforting. It gave him something new to think about – the responsibility for this child, and the strain on his muscles as he hefted August with him up all those steps.

Thank god they only had to deal with stairs. If there had been any children trapped in the lifts that had stopped halfway up…. Maybe he could have found some way to summon up his cataclysm and destroy the glass. But how would they reach them? A grotesque vision filled his mind, of babies and toddlers like August, too far up and too far down for anyone to climb to and rescue.

August let out a soft whimper. Adrien’s arms had tightened, and he loosened them now, swallowing down his horror.

They didn’t really speak during the climb. Even for all the exercise he did in his fencing lessons, Adrien felt exhausted and suspected Marinette did too. They just followed the sound of children, growing louder as they made their ascent.

Finally, they reached the first floor, where there were groups of children huddled at tables arranged outside the eateries.

Adrien’s thighs and arms were burning with lactic acid. The smell of waffles suddenly filled him with a hunger like no other.

The children were very young, all under six. Kids not in school when the incident had happened. Every one of them stared at their rescuers with eager eyes. But none came forward – probably terrified.

Me too.

‘There are…a lot of them,’ Marinette said.

She was right. There were about two dozen.

‘At least this should be everyone,’ Adrien said. ‘I saw a sign earlier saying the second floor is shut today. Due to wind.’ 

Of course, there wasn’t so much as a light breeze now. He pushed aside the fresh wave of dread at the reminder. The children came first. ‘What should we say to them?’

She shrugged. ‘A lot of them are probably tourists. They might not even speak French.’

That was a good point. ‘They’ll understand hand gestures, though.’ He handed August back to her, then waved his arms to get everyone’s attention and indicate he was about to speak. Then he called out his words. ‘Listen, everyone! We’re going to help you down. But we need to take it nice and slow, one person behind the other, like a chain.’ He pointed to the stairs, then made his fingers look like they were walking.

He repeated his speech in English, just in case that clicked with anyone else – and then Mandarin, for good measure. He glanced at Marinette. ‘Know any other languages?’

She shook her head. This was the best they could do.

‘But first,’ he continued, one finger raised, ‘let’s all get some food!’ This, at least, was something that could not be misinterpreted. He headed for one of the kiosks, no longer caring about taking food without paying. They had bigger problems, now.

Maybe it was the sight of someone so much older raiding the food supply, but now the littles rushed the kiosks and Adrien started handing out what he could. Packaged sandwiches, salads, cold but cooked waffles, anything he could find.

As they sat at the tables, eating, he noticed the way Marinette was staring at him. ‘What?’ he asked.

She blinked and shook her head. ‘Just…you’re pretty….’

‘I’m pretty?’

‘No!’

‘I’m… not pretty?’

‘Okay, this is coming out wrong. I was going to say you’re pretty amazing.’ She flushed hard.

He smiled faintly. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ You wouldn’t think I was amazing if you knew I’m a murderer. He nibbled away at the baguette he’d picked out for himself, forcing himself to take it slowly even though he felt like wolfing it down in three bites.

‘It’s funny how all the kids huddled together here,’ Marinette said as she fed a biscuit to baby August. ‘I expected them to be running around and…I don’t know. Maybe not playing. They must be so afraid. But…doing something.’

He nodded. ‘Maybe something spooked them.’

‘The barrier?’

He craned his head around, looking for the wall through the scaffolding – when his attention stopped on an object across the platform. Something he hadn’t noticed while focusing on the children. His hand trembled and some of the filling fell out of his sandwich.

‘Adrien? What’s….’ She followed his gaze. ‘What…what’s that?’

He had a suspicion he so dearly hoped was wrong.

He set down his baguette and stood slowly from the table. ‘Marinette…stay here.’

The walk across the platform felt like something out of a bad dream – worse, somehow, than when he’d run into the burning building. He could feel the children’s eyes on his back, waiting for him to find it. 

A baby, no more than a few months old, the head pressed in. Probably from the impact of falling from a parent’s arms and landing hard on the steel flooring.

He stumbled backward. The nausea that had settled in his stomach after the fire was now working its way up through his throat

He heard a gasp and turned to see Marinette was right behind him. Her hands flew to her mouth, and instant tears formed in her eyes. Without thinking, Adrien pulled her into his arms and pressed her face into his chest, to stop her looking at the dead infant. Her whole body shuddered, and he felt her tears watering his jumper, but in that moment, nothing could have mattered less. For the first time that day, tears fell from his eyes too, dripping down his cheeks and falling into her hair.

His arms tightened around her, maybe for his sake more than hers. It was a relief to have someone there, to share this horror. Though he also wished desperately it could just be him – that she didn’t need to live through this. That no one did.

He finally loosened his arms and slowly released her.

She stared up at him before clearing her throat and stepping back, away from him. ‘I’m…I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice cracking. 

‘Don’t be.’

Her lower lip wobbled. ‘This…this isn’t all of it, is it. There will be others.’ None of this was a question, so he didn’t answer. Despite having just composed herself, she looked like she was on the verge of crying again. 

He sidestepped the infant, not ready to look at it again, and leaned against the railing, pushing down the sickness and looking out over the city. Several buildings were up in smoke. Maybe people had been cooking when they’d blinked out and stoves had been left on. There was a petrol station on fire as well, flames dancing in the air. For several moments, he was unable to take his eyes off the fires, imagining the bodies. 

In the distance, what appeared to be a small aeroplane – at least, the remains of one, for it was nothing more than a smoking husk – pressed up against the wall. 

The wall. 

Now, with the full view of the city, Adrien could see it travelled all the way around in a semicircle, at least several kilometres in diameter, touching the horizon. The fuzzy-looking surface stretched up almost as high as the top of the tower, before gradually fading away. He could see the sun. He could see the clouds. But the light, despite appearing like the normal afternoon sunlight, felt all wrong. 

‘It's not a wall…,’ Marinette said in a hollow voice. She’d come to stand beside him. 

He nodded. ‘It's a dome.’ 

A perfect circle, slicing through everything, entrapping them all.

‘It’s like someone’s just…put us inside a giant snow globe,’ she said.

An image came to mind of an oversized child shaking up the dome just to see how they all fell, and he gripped the railing tighter. 

‘I haven’t seen Manon,’ Marinette said.

‘Is there anywhere else you can think that she would be?’

‘Well…it’s…it's a long shot, but…I think I remember Maman saying they might go to Notre Dame today, too...’

He nodded again. ‘Okay. Let’s get these kids down the tower and back to the park, and then we can go to the cathedral.’

She stared at him, not moving.

‘Am I being pretty again?’ he teased weakly, not really feeling his own humour.

She shook her head, averting her gaze. '…you’re really going to drop everything and join me in this search all over Paris?’

His brow rose. ‘Drop what exactly? Helping you find her gives me something to hold onto, too. And I really need that, Marinette. If you knew….’

She looked to him again, searching for an explanation, but he wasn’t ready to give her that. If she knew, she wouldn’t want him to help her anymore. No one would.

He glanced towards the tables, where the other kids sat. One of the older ones – maybe five – was playing with August. ‘You gather them up and start taking them down the stairs.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll catch up. I just want to….’

She followed his gaze towards the infant on the floor. Repeated viewings did not make it any easier to take. Her voice wavered as she spoke. 'You don’t have to do that, Adrien.’

‘We can’t just leave it like that.’

‘...you're really going to carry it all the way down the tower?’ She touched his arm. ‘I know it’s horrible, but…won’t it be even more horrible to do what you’re thinking of doing?’

No. It would be more horrible not to do it.

‘Just take the kids down and I’ll meet you at the bottom,’ he told her.

She held his eyes for a long moment, then nodded and headed back to the tables. She waved to get the children’s attention, before giving them a set of instructions with hand gestures and starting down the steps. 

When they’d gone, Adrien squeezed his eyes shut and took a long, deep breath, before releasing it and opening his eyes, heading for the body. The second body in as many hours.

It appeared to be a boy. He had fallen out of his swaddling and was covered in bruises, his limbs lying at awful, stiff angles, tiny hands curled.

With no further thought, Adrien scooped up the baby as though he were his father and cradled him in his arms, pressing him to his chest. He was cold.

For some stupid reason, Adrien said, ‘Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you now.’ It hit him that he wasn’t just saying this for the baby but for the girl he’d killed. The girl he’d intended to help.

Fresh tears spilled from his eyes, over both children, and over all the countless, nameless victims who had to have died throughout the morning without them even knowing. And even for himself.

He picked up the blanket that lay spilled on the floor and covered the infant with it, over his shoulder, then headed down the stairs after Marinette and the others. He moved as if in a dream – no, a nightmare – and met with her a long time later on the ground.

She went to him immediately and stared at the bundle in his arms. She had August buckled back into his stroller, so beautifully alive and giggling at a textured board book. ‘Are you sure you’re okay there?’ she asked.

Adrien shook his head, certain his eyes must be as red and as swollen as hers. ‘But there’s no time for that, now.’

On that, it seemed they agreed.

‘One of the kids has a burn on his hand,’ Marinette said.

‘... a burn?’

‘He touched the barrier.’

Oh. Hopefully it hadn’t hurt too much. Adrien had felt barely more than a sharp sting himself, but…. ‘I guess we should look for first aid kits, when we get back to the park. Maybe Alya and Nino have some ideas.’

Alya and Nino. As if they were trained in how to look after so many children simply because they had younger siblings.

One problem at a time , he reminded himself, taking in the sea of two- to five-year-olds looking to them for guidance and protection.

‘It’ll take a lot longer to go back than it took us to get here,’ Marinette read his thoughts. ‘We’ll need to take a lot of breaks, so we don’t exhaust them. They’ve already been asking for their parents. I….’ She stared down at her hands, as if they might hold the answers, blinking away fresh tears. 

He took one of them and pressed it, drawing her gaze. He summoned his most reassuring smile, willing himself not to let it waver. ‘Then I guess we’d better get going.’

Marinette nodded and began pushing the stroller, with Adrien taking the rear, and a gaggle of children in between.

Chapter Text

As they approached Place des Vosges, Marinette heard music: the gentle strumming of a guitar, amongst a low murmur of voices.

She led the way, pushing a now-sleeping August in his stroller, with two dozen or so kids trailing slowly after. It had been a long walk for the littles, not used to travelling several kilometres on foot with only a few minutes’ rest. She had done her best to periodically carry the toddlers on one hip, but it had still taken them over two hours to get back to the park. Her back and sides burned. 

Adrien might have helped her with carrying duty, but he had his own burden. He brought up the rear of the group to make sure no one fell behind, the baby’s covered body clasped to his chest, looking impossibly tiny in his arms.

Heads turned and kids gawked at them as they passed through the entrance gates. Although the crowd had thinned since the morning, there were still maybe a hundred kids present. Marinette swallowed down her discomfort and focused on the music, spotting the source immediately – Luka, sitting on the rim of the large central fountain. A group of kids had gathered around him like he was Peter Pan and they were the Lost Boys, sitting on the grass, listening to him play. Others listened from a distance, spread across the park in small social pockets.

There was a stillness to the scene. A sense of unease lingered in the air, but everyone’s movements seemed to have slowed. People were quieter. The exhaustion of the day had caught up with them.

Marinette stopped about ten metres from the impromptu concert. She turned around, waiting for the kids behind her to slow and stop too. They peered up at her, some crying. Adrien walked past them, coming to stand beside her. 

Although she was now one of the oldest people in Paris, she had never felt younger – smaller. She drew closer to Adrien. ‘What do we do?’ she whispered. ‘All these kids….’

His face looked tight – older. Older than she could ever recall seeing him. ‘Maybe they can stay here with everyone else, while we go,’ he said, his voice just as quiet.

‘And when night falls?’

He was silent so long that she thought maybe he expected them to sleep in the park, too. Then he raised one of his arms like he’d done at the Eiffel Tower and made a new announcement to the littles. ‘Marinette and I need to go on another mission. There are more children to save. You’ll be safe here. There’s a café-bar just behind us where you can get food if you’re hungry, and a daycare just over there, where you can sleep tonight while we figure things out.’ He pointed at both locations. ‘If you need any help, you can ask one of the older kids.’

He repeated the message in English and Mandarin, and the children began settling on the grass, huddled together in one frightened group.

Marinette didn’t realise the music had stopped until Luka was beside them, the guitar once more slung over his shoulders. 

‘I can be one of those older kids they ask for help,’ he said softly.

She gave a long sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, Luka.' 

He smiled, and then the smile fell. ‘How did it go?’

‘Well, as you can see, we…found all these kids on the tower, but…not Manon. We think she might be at Notre Dame. We’re going there next.’

‘I really hope you find her there,’ Luka said, his eyes on the bundle in Adrien’s arms. ‘Um, what’s th–’

‘Did you bury the girl?’ Adrien asked.

Luka blinked. ‘We’ve started digging the…the grave,’ he said heavily. ‘Ivan’s helping me out, but some kids asked me to play, and….’

Marinette followed his gaze to the far end of the park, where no children sat. Under a linden tree, she could see Ivan’s large figure, hacking at the ground with what appeared to be a large metal shovel. 

Adrien shifted the baby’s position in his arms until he was cradling it, then held it out to Luka. ‘We’ll need to bury him, too,’ he whispered.

Luka’s eyes widened, fixed on the bundle. Then a look of sad understanding passed over his face and he gave a slow nod. ‘How…?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

Luka took the baby and, with another nod, turned around and started in the direction of Ivan.

Marinette placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and felt him flinch. He was staring down at his now empty arms, still held out slightly in front of him. The words ‘are you okay?’ were on her lips, but she knew they would be hollow, the furthest thing from comforting, the last thing Adrien needed now.

‘We should find someone to look after August, and then go,’ he said thickly.

She looked down at the stroller. Had she just become a teenage mother overnight? Was this one-year-old really her responsibility, now?

She looked back at Adrien, her mouth open to speak, when she spotted a familiar figure running towards them across the park.

‘Guys! You made it!’ Alya reached them, taking in their solemn faces and the kids scattered around them. ‘Are you okay? Where’s Manon?’

It was difficult to speak through the lump in her throat. Marinette swallowed it down painfully and repeated their brief story. ‘We didn’t find Manon. We think she’s at Notre Dame. We need to go now, before it gets dark. But…can you look after August for a bit? We’ll be back as soon as possible.’

Alya looked down at the stroller, frowning, clearly a million questions running through her mind. She had met August before, one of the times she’d accompanied Marinette to the Trocadero, but that was months ago.

Her eyes rounded with recognition. ‘Okay. Sure, yeah, I can do that. I’ll bring him up to your place. Nino’s just gone back to his house to grab a few more things. But…what about all these other kids?' 

Marinette glanced back at them. They wore matching expressions of fear, and some were crying. She suddenly felt more tired than she’d ever felt in her life. Too tired to think, the words heavy. Why was Alya asking her what to do? She’d brought them back. Wasn’t that enough?

She had accepted responsibility for August the moment she’d seen him sobbing in that stroller. But if she hadn't known him…. 

I can’t be responsible for all of them. It’s impossible. I can’t. 

We can’t. 

‘We were thinking maybe the daycare…,’ Adrien said, sounding just as exhausted. Maybe he was having the same thoughts.

Alya’s gaze bounced between the two of them, and she nodded. ‘Alright. Don't worry about it. Nino and I will handle things. You guys go.’ She reached over, taking the stroller from Marinette, her eyes still flickering between her and Adrien.

‘Thanks,’ Marinette whispered. 

Alya nodded. ‘You’ll find her.’ She flashed one of her you got this – we can do anything smiles, but it fell flat. Alya didn’t know what they’d been through. She didn’t know about the dead baby. But Marinette couldn’t bring herself to share the story. It was too terrible to put into words. The baby – the wall – the dome – the strange pigeon…. They would have to tell people, sooner or later. But not now.

Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, certain that they had again been thinking the same things. Somehow, that gave her the strength to say her goodbyes and set off out of the park and into the strange city for the second time.

Notre Dame Cathedral was half a kilometre away, across the bridge blocked by the bus that had tipped over that morning. The colours of the sky were changing, streaks of yellow and orange amongst the clouds as the sun made its slow descent in the sky. Soon it would be nightfall, and with it would come darkness. Without electricity, there would be no bright twinkling lights of the city. No streetlights. No car headlights.

Adrien only hoped there would still be a moon.

He walked beside Marinette, neither of them speaking. It was strange to be alone again, having spent more than three hours surrounded by scared and tired toddlers. And after holding the infant all that time…. His arms felt empty, like there was something missing. Like part of him was missing too. They hadn’t even made it through a day and he’d already handed over two children to be placed into holes, covered by soil.

He glanced at Marinette, hit with the consuming urge to hug her. To bury his head in her shoulder, the way she’d done to him up on the tower, then collapse in a soft, warm bed and fall unconscious until all of this was over. To wake up and find it was all an awful dream. Even if it meant dealing with his father again, that would be okay, as long as it brought back those two dead children.

It should have only taken about ten minutes to reach the cathedral, but they moved so slowly that it took longer. As they neared the spectacular feat of architecture, his legs felt leaden. Each step was strained, like he was trying to lift his feet out of glue. His heart pounded, his breath grew laboured and he felt hot all over. Even when they'd climbed the hundreds of stairs up the tower, it hadn't felt like this. 

At his side, Marinette had gone white and her chest was heaving as if she were in the throes of a panic attack.

‘Do you….’ He swallowed, his mind a swirl of letters and syllables that fought against his efforts to assemble them into a coherent sentence.

She nodded. She felt it too…whatever it was. It wasn’t anything he could put into words, just a… wrongness from within the cathedral.

A memory flashed through his head, of a time when he was little and his father had forced him to do a photoshoot with a clown – some advert for a children’s clothing line. The clown must have been a normal person under the makeup and costume, but she’d seemed to be her own species – not male or female or human or animal, just clown. As little Adrien had been pushed in her direction, he’d felt this same sense of dread, like he was walking towards his end.

They somehow made it to the front doors, one of which stood open for tourists who were no longer there. They were framed by the twelve apostles, who seemed to be watching them with their sharp, stone eyes, warning them not to go in.

But they had to. Adrien couldn’t let Marinette down. If Manon was in there….

He took the lead and headed inside, quickly before he lost his nerve. He’d been in the cathedral several times over the years, usually with Nathalie or his mother, and once with his father, who had walked through the building with his hands clasped behind his back and chin held high, looking as intimidating as the apostles at the entrance.

It was a beautiful building – beautiful didn’t even begin to cover it. Yet nausea filled him and he wanted to get as far away from the place as he could.

The great fire that had occurred a few years earlier had badly damaged large sections of the cathedral, but astonishingly skilled architects and builders had mostly restored it. Still, portions inside were roped off, with signs indicating that visitors were not allowed beyond those points.

‘The crypt, maybe?’ Marinette suggested, pointing to one of the few areas left open. Her voice was quiet and shaky, like she felt the same sense of ‘no, please not the crypt’ that he felt, though he couldn’t have said why.

He nodded and they headed down a set of steps on the right, taking them underground. Without electricity, it was darker than any dark he’d ever encountered, and he pulled out his phone, switching on the torch to light their way. It still had a little battery life left. 

They were met with the ruins of ancient walls, heaps of stone rubble, and tombs. Thank god the bodies had been removed before opening the place to tourists. Still, he gave a violent shudder and rubbed his arms, suddenly cold. Unnaturally cold, in fact.

‘Do you remember what Ms Bustier said about this place?’ Marinette whispered, maybe out of respect for the ghosts that were surely down there with them.

‘It’s…huge.’

‘...yeah. I think about 1,800 square metres, isn’t it?’

He tried to remember that particular exam. ‘That rings a bell.’ It wasn’t like it was a big open 1,800 square metres, either. It was a labyrinth. Where did they even start? Especially with only a small tunnel of light from the phone.

Marinette was staring at one of the crumbling walls that looked more ancient than time itself. ‘I, um…I read that they had to turn off the ventilation system when the fire happened, and all these moulds and microorganisms started spreading down here. They couldn’t re-open it until they’d cleared it out and it was safe again.’

His heart beat even faster. Was this what he’d had a sixth sense about, at the entrance doors? ‘If the electricity is off, the ventilation will be off again.’

She gave him a slow nod.

He swallowed. ‘I guess…we’d better find Manon and get the hell out of here.’

She nodded again. Every minute they stood there was a risk.

They walked on in the near-dark, sometimes having to duck under low ceilings to move through the chambers. Adrien shone his torch ahead and up the sides of the walls, anywhere he could. Once, Marinette stumbled over rubble on the ground, and he grabbed her hand to steady her. He didn’t let it go.

He could feel the walls and ceiling pressing in on him. His breathing was laboured, the air heavy and thick, and he resisted the urge to raise his hands and burn it all so they could burst out into the fresh night air. 

‘Manon?’ Marinette called out, sounding like a disembodied voice in the darkness. ‘Manon! Are you here?’

‘There,’ Adrien suddenly said, and beside him, Marinette jerked to a stop.

A small figure sat cross-legged on the dust and rocks at the far end of the chamber, beside a long tomb, some ancient priest’s stone likeness reclined on the lid. One of the straps of her purple overalls had come undone, and long locks of brown hair had strayed from her pigtails. She was hunched over something in her hands and didn’t look up even when her name was called and the light shone on her face.

‘Manon!’ Marinette lurched towards the girl, and Adrien quickly followed.

She was staring at a small handheld game console. The buttons were large and clunky, the edges rubbery – designed specifically for kids. She was playing some sort of game on it, one Adrien didn’t recognise.

Even as they stood right in front of her, she did not look up. Did not raise her head or give any indication that she knew she was no longer alone. It was the exact opposite to how Adrien had expected a scared five-year-old to react – and he’d seen a lot of scared five-year-olds today. Manon didn’t cry. She didn’t leap up and throw herself at them. She remained fixated on her game.

‘Oh, Manon.’ Marinette’s exhaustion was audible. She knelt and wrapped her arms around the small girl. Only then did Manon raise her head.

‘Marinette,’ she said, and Adrien was shocked to hear her sound like an ordinary girl.

What was I expecting? Some sort of fairy from another world?

‘Yes, yes, that’s me, Marinette,’ Marinette said. ‘We’ve come here to take you home, okay? Me and Adrien. You haven’t met Adrien before. He’s…my friend.’

Manon’s eyes settled on Adrien. She blinked slowly, regarding him without speaking, and Adrien felt suddenly nervous in a way he couldn’t explain.

‘Um, hello.' He gave an awkward little wave. ‘I’m Adrien. It’s nice to meet you.’

Manon said nothing. She looked back down, already focused on her game again.

‘Is she… always this shy?’ Adrien asked tentatively. If he hadn’t met dozens of kids in the last few hours alone – and if Nino wasn’t constantly ranting about how annoying Chris, albeit a little older, was with all his questions – he might have thought this was how all children her age acted.

Marinette fixed her gaze on the crumbling floor, tracing lines in the dirt with a finger. ‘Not really. I mean…she’s not really shy, she’s just…she doesn’t really understand.’

‘What do you mean?’ Adrien said, and because the others were still on the floor, he lowered himself down, too. It felt weird to stand over them.

‘She’s…autistic,’ Marinette said softly. ‘She’s sort of…in her own world, most of the time. She can understand us, but…sometimes she has trouble expressing it. She prefers people she knows. Like Maman. And me.’

‘… oh….’ Marinette’s earlier frantic panic made a little more sense, now. ‘I'm…I’m glad we’ve found her now.’ 

This, at least, was another child they could save. 

‘Hungry,’ Manon said.

Marinette’s attention was instantly on her. ‘Are you hungry? We’re going to go get food right now. Some dinner. Does that sound good?’

After a moment, Manon nodded. ‘Dinner.’

‘Okay.’ Marinette carefully stood, taking Manon’s hand and helping her up. Manon’s other hand remained tightly around the game console.

Adrien, too, got to his feet and held up his phone so he could see Marinette’s face. They shared one last look in the darkness, and then he held the phone out in front of them. ‘Let’s go.’ 

Chapter Text

Adrien led the way out of the crypt, holding out his phone, its torch creating a tunnel of light for them to see just enough to prevent them from tripping with every step over the crumbling ancient walls and stone tombs. 

Manon kept her head down, one hand in Marinette’s, the other clutching her game console. The creepiness of the crypt didn’t seem to faze her. She didn’t appear aware of where they were or that they were walking at all.

There was something unnerving about the silent way she accepted the journey. Shouldn’t little kids be scared of the dark? Because he was, and he was now one of the oldest people in Paris.

Maybe it was a coping mechanism, and she was somewhere far off in her head, where the coldness and fear couldn’t touch her. If so, he envied her. 

Nino and Kim had both mentioned aliens. Walking down there in the dark, stepping over rubble and breathing in who knew what, it was too easy to imagine they were travelling through an alien world. The moon, maybe, with different gravity. It was all he could do to stay grounded.

‘Boom,’ Manon said – the first any of them had spoken since they’d begun the journey back.

That single syllable in the dark made Adrien jerk violently, stumbling over his feet and flying forward. Marinette let out a cry as he threw out his hands, slamming them on the cold wall. The impact stung. He’d probably scraped up his palms. Maybe they were bleeding. Worse, the phone flew out of his grasp, light strobing, and landed hard on the rough ground. The damage was audible.

‘Are you okay?’ Marinette asked through the darkness. Her voice was shaking as much as his whole body.

Too stunned to respond, he focused on his breath, then counted backwards from ten. Slowly, he peeled himself from the wall and took unsteady steps towards the light of his phone, where it lay maybe two metres away. He swallowed and picked up the phone. The screen was a spider web of cracks. But the light worked, and that was the most important thing. It meant he could get them to the exit. He wouldn’t let them down.

‘Let’s…let’s get out of here.’ He held up the phone again, this time taking slower steps.

He focused on Marinette and Manon’s footsteps as they followed him – anything but the panicked doubts screaming through his mind.

‘Why did you say that, Manon?’ Marinette asked. When there was no reply, her voice grew more urgent. ‘Manon, why did you say boom?’

‘Boom,’ Manon said again.

They carried on in silence.

When the torch illuminated the exit, Adrien let out a long breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and nearly dashed out through the cathedral doors, back onto the street.

The sun had set. It was almost completely dark. In a few minutes, they wouldn’t be able to see at all. Adrien squinted through the cracks on his phone screen. Should he tell Marinette the battery was running low?

No – she had enough to worry about. There was nothing they could do about it, anyway.

As they put more distance between themselves and the cathedral, he felt a great weight lifting. It wasn’t just the weight of responsibility – for Marinette and for Manon. It was that sickening, dizzying feeling that had hit him the moment he’d approached the entrance doors earlier that day. It felt like a lifetime ago. A dream, even.

A nightmare.

In the distance, he could see faint lights in the apartments surrounding the park, dotted here and there. From torches, maybe, or candles. There were even a few in the higher windows of Françoise Dupont. Kids seeking shelter inside, a safe place to sleep.

There were still people in the park, though not many. Maybe they’d walked back to their homes. Two kids no older than ten went past them, carrying torches.

‘I think Le Grand Paris is just that way,’ one of them said.

This, too, was a good plan. The hotel was only a few blocks away, and had hundreds of empty luxury rooms. And probably still power. There were solar panels up on the roof, and most likely a backup generator somewhere, too.

Adrien felt an unexpected pang in his heart, and he cleared his throat. ‘Hey, do you think…do you think Chloe’s okay?’

Behind him, Marinette was silent. Maybe thinking of what to say.

They walked on, and she said, ‘Knowing Chloe, she’s probably fine. I bet she’s back at the hotel living a life of luxury while we all wonder what to do. When those kids turn up, they’ll be in for a surprise.’

Despite everything, a smile tugged at his cheeks, the image forming in his mind. In his best Chloe voice, he said, ‘You call those shoes?’

Marinette joined in. ‘Oh my god, do you even know where you are?’ 

Laughing was a release. It was either that or cry.

Manon remained silent. 

The hotel was not the only building with solar panels and power. Opposite the bakery, there were lights on in the apartment above the café-bar.

‘Who do you think’s up there?’ he asked, and he flashed the torch briefly in the direction of the café-bar. ‘I thought maybe everyone went to their homes for the night, but….’

Marinette sighed. ‘Yeah…the barrier. Maybe…maybe not everyone can reach their homes. All those little kids….’ She didn’t finish her thought, and he was glad for it. 

They passed the park, which was now largely empty, and reached the bakery. It looked ghostly with no streetlights to illuminate it, but it still managed to be more welcoming than the mansion.

Someone had closed the blinds. Faint light peeked through. Were Alya and Nino downstairs?

He put his hand on the door handle, then hesitated. At that hour, it felt like breaking and entering.

‘Go ahead,’ Marinette said quietly. ‘You’ve got the light.’

He blinked, staring at his hands and remembering the burning light – then realised she meant his phone.

He turned the handle and opened the door. Other phone lights flashed around the bakery, finding him, Marinette and Manon. Adrien put up an arm to shield his eyes, then squinted and saw that the bakery had been invaded.

‘Who the hell are you?’ demanded a boy whose voice he didn’t recognise.

Adrien shone his torch in the boy’s face, then at the faces of his companions, all strangers, all holding the remnants of that morning’s baking.

Maybe it was the result of what they had been through that day, but Marinette seemed to transform into a creature unfamiliar to Adrien. Her bluebell eyes flared and even in the low light her whole face went a little red, one hand clutching Manon and the other in a tight fist.

‘Everyone out!’ she yelled, making the invaders drop the cookies and pastries they had been devouring in her absence.

‘You can’t make us,’ one of them said – a boy, maybe eleven years old, with a mean mouth.

‘You wanna bet?’ she bit out in a hard voice. ‘This is my house and I am going to give you to the count of three before –’

‘Before what?’ one of the other kids said, arms over her chest. ‘Who are you going to call? The police?’

Marinette let out a low growl. Adrien stared at her in surprise – then clenched his fists, prepared for a fight.

Suddenly, the others started backing away, their eyes on Adrien.

‘It’s him,’ they murmured to each other. ‘He ran into that fire –’ ‘He brought out that girl –’ ‘He killed her.’

‘He didn’t –’ Marinette started to say.

But Adrien talked over her in a low, cool voice. ‘Do you really want to find out if that’s true?’ He gave them all a pointed look. ‘Take your cookies and get out.’

They blinked at him, then hurried around the counter and out of the bakery, letting the door slam behind them with a jingling bell sound.

When they were gone, Marinette’s shoulders dropped and she heaved out a breath. She turned to him, an embarrassed, pained look on her face. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me there. I –’

‘It’s okay. We’ve all had a rough day. Even those kids we just threw out.’ It was hard to stay angry at some scared and hungry kids.

Marinette held his eyes a moment, then nodded and locked the front door. She led them all up the stairs, to the main house, where they went through the kitchen. Alya and Nino were sitting with the kids around the coffee table in the living room, a board game open in front of them. Baby August was with them, sandwiched between the twins, who were giggling and nuzzling his nose with theirs. Chris sat beside Ella, fiddling with a piece from the board game. 

Open backpacks were on the floor beside the kitchen table, with a few other things brought out. Adrien’s bag was there, too. He spotted a couple of rolled-up sleeping bags and what looked like a mini stove. Two lit lantern torches, like those used in camping, had been set up – one on the table, and another beside the TV. They were so bright they lit up the entire space almost as much as the ceiling lights would have, had they been working. 

Alya leapt up when she saw them. ‘Marinette!’ She rushed over and pulled Marinette into a deep hug. Marinette settled into her friend’s embrace like she’d been needing that hug a long time. If Adrien hadn’t been so rattled himself, maybe he would’ve noticed. He could do with a hug himself.

Maybe Nino picked up on it, because he was on his feet too and throwing his arms around Adrien in a way he wasn’t used to. Adrien hugged him back, tightly, before they broke apart.

Nino surveyed him. ‘You look rough, dude.’

‘It’s been a long day,’ Adrien said.

‘Tell me about it. You ever changed a baby when you didn’t have any clean nappies?’

Adrien and Marinette glanced at August, who was clapping his hands badly out of time with the twins.

‘There weren’t any in his baby bag?’ Marinette asked.

‘Only one left,’ said Alya. ‘It got used almost right away, and then they were gone. But don’t sweat it. We improvised.’

Only then did Adrien notice August was wearing an imaginatively folded and knotted up towel. He suppressed a laugh, because it was the sort of thing Marinette might have done. There was a reason she and Alya were such good friends.

‘I’m hungry,’ Chris spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘When's dinner?’

Adrien and his friends exchanged an uncomfortable look.

‘We wanted to wait until you got back,’ Nino explained to them. ‘Unless you took ages.’

‘I checked the fridge and pantry while you guys were gone,’ Alya told Marinette. ‘I hope you don't mind….’

Marinette shook her head. ‘Why would I mind?’ There was an undertone of this home belongs to all of us now.

Alya exhaled with relief. ‘Okay, so I think the food is still alright to eat. The heating doesn't work, and it’s pretty cold, so the fridge is still a little cool. I brought some food from home, too. My mum….’ Her voice cracked and her gaze grew distant, as if she were playing some bittersweet memory in her head. Then she shook her head and continued. ‘My mum had a pot of colombo she’d made this morning on the counter, so I packed that up. We should eat it before the chicken goes bad.’ 

Adrien swallowed. With everything that had happened, he’d almost forgotten that his friends had also gone home and found their parents gone. Marlena Césaire would have been working at the hotel when she disappeared. And Otto Césaire…would he have been at the zoo? And Alya's older sister, Nora…she would be gone, too.

Was the zoo within the boundary? Were there not just dogs and cats but wolves and lions needing feeding?

‘Papa went to the supermarket only a couple days ago,’ Marinette said. ‘There should be plenty of food in the house.' 

No one asked what happened when that food ran out. Maybe the others had their own mental lists of problems to worry about tomorrow.

‘I’m hungry!’ Chris interrupted, thankfully.

‘Okay, let’s get that food out!’ Alya said with a decisive clap of her hands.

‘Can I help with anything?’ Adrien asked.

‘Yeah, all of you can help me serve and carry things to the table.’

As they worked, Alya caught them up on what they’d missed. ‘Kim, Max, Alix and some of the others are staying above the café-bar tonight. I guess a lot of us had the same idea that it’s better to be in a group. Zoe dropped by, after checking the hotel.’

‘Is Chloe okay?’ Adrien asked.

Alya gave him a long look that told him all he needed to know. ‘No one’s…seen her. Actually, Sabrina came by the park too and was really upset about it. I felt so bad for her. I know neither of them are my favourite people, but….’

Nino put a hand on her shoulder, and she flashed him a sad smile, before clearing her throat. 

‘Anyway, Zoe said the stoves had been left on in the hotel kitchen and she had to put out a small fire.’

Marinette glanced at Adrien, and he focused on spooning colombo into bowls, trying not to see the burning building in his mind.

‘And your mum…?’ Marinette said, bringing out a baguette from the pantry. 

Alya shot a brief look at the twins and lowered her voice, speaking to her chest. ‘Not there. No one was there. In the rooms Zoe could access, anyway. A big hotel like that and it was completely empty .’

‘I’m sorry,’ Marinette whispered. 

Alya shrugged, but when she looked up again, the pain was evident in her damp eyes. She wiped at them with her sleeve. ‘It’s what…it’s what I was expecting, anyway. When we didn’t see any adults on the street, and when we arrived at Nino’s house and his dad was gone….’

Mr Lahiffe, too. All of them….

Adrien finished his task and helped the others carry the bowls to the coffee table.

‘Dinner is served!’ Alya announced, as if the previous conversation never happened. She was already slipping into the parental role, pretending things were okay so they didn’t frighten the littles.

‘Yay!’ cried the twins.

‘Finally!’ Chris grumbled. 

‘Gah!’ said August.

Manon said nothing.

Perhaps taking their cues from Alya, Marinette put on her brightest smile and set down the two bowls she held, while Nino gave a bowl to Chris and nuzzled the top of his head.

Adrien knew a thing or two about fake smiles. He plastered on his best modelling shot grin and gave a bowl to Manon, who stared at him like she saw right through him but…didn’t really care.

‘ Bon appetit, dudes!’ Nino said, and they settled in on the floor, the littles digging in like they were starving. Their eyes were underscored by exhaustion from the stress of the day. Wound-up, hungry, overtired children who were…their responsibility, now.

Well, that was okay. As long as they were safe. That was all that mattered.

He glanced over at Marinette, who was watching Manon with glittering intensity. Marinette, too, had exhaustion written all over her face. Her eyes looked red and her skin a little pale. Her shoulders drooped as if carrying some tremendous weight.

Maybe he was a little intense too, because she looked up, as if she felt him watching her. They shared a slow smile that was anything but happy, and he read the question in her eyes.

If they were the ‘adults’, now…who was there to look after them?

Chapter Text

They ate in near-silence, seated together on the floor around the coffee table in Marinette’s living room. As if this were a fun sleepover, rather than the maybe-apocalypse.

August was positioned on a cushion beside Marinette, his back against the couch, eating with his hands. She’d mashed up some potato and shredded a chunk of chicken into little pieces. 

Manon sat cross-legged on her other side. She’d momentarily set down her video game and was nibbling on a chunk of bread. 

Opposite her, Ella, Etta and Chris gobbled up the food, talking loudly as they played through their makeshift dinner. 

Marinette ate more slowly, her movements heavy. Now that she was home, with no plans to go anywhere else, the exhaustion of the day was quickly catching up with her. Even just lifting the spoon to her mouth was a challenge, her shoulders tight and sore from having carried babies for hours. Her legs ached too, from climbing up and down the Eiffel Tower.

Her friends appeared to be in the same shape. Despite the smiles plastered on their faces, Alya and Nino looked drained. Adrien, sitting on August’s other side, stared at the bowl in his lap, only occasionally taking an absentminded bite of his dinner. 

What was he thinking about? The girl, maybe? The baby….

The food was neither hot nor cold. It hadn’t just been cooked on the stove, but it also hadn’t just been taken out of the fridge. No one had really prepared it because there was no one there to prepare it. They were on their own.

She stirred her food around in the bowl, imagining Marlena stirring it in the pot. She would’ve been making this before she disappeared. Each mouthful Marinette swallowed down was one more piece of before disappearing along with the grownups. The same went for the bread she’d found in the pantry, remnants of her mother and father who had baked it the night before.

When she had arrived with Adrien and Manon and she’d seen the lights on upstairs, for a fleeting second she’d thought her parents had returned. When she walked upstairs, there they would be, laughing and teasing each other as they cooked dinner together.

But of course, the lights had only been the lantern torches Alya and Nino had set up, and it had been her friends and the kids who had greeted them at the door. Stepping into her living room again, even after finding it empty that morning, had been like a punch to the gut, further driving home the fact that her parents were gone.

‘Is there dessert?’ Ella asked.

The others chimed in – all except Manon, who’d gone back to playing her game, half her plate untouched. Marinette knew not to force her to finish. She would eat when she was hungry enough. 

‘There’s all the stuff left in the bakery,’ she said. ‘It’ll go stale by the morning.’

‘There’s ice cream in the freezer, too,’ Alya said. ‘But the freezer’s off, so it’s kind of melted. We may as well eat it before it’s wasted, right?’

Chris and the twins let out cries of excitement and followed Alya to the kitchen area.

‘I’ll…I'll get the leftover pastries,’ Marinette offered.

Adrien jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll come with you.’

She nodded. They’d been through so much together already that it seemed right for him to join her, even if it was only downstairs. ‘Could you stay here with August and Manon?’ she asked Nino.

‘Sure, you go. We’re good.’ He grinned and gave August a little poke on the nose. August giggled.

Marinette headed out of the room and downstairs to the bakery, with Adrien behind her. The total darkness gave her chills, magnifying the growing cold in the unheated house, now that night was falling. She rubbed her arms.

Light flashed on – Adrien’s phone. She threw him a grateful nod, and they raided the bakery for any edible remains before carrying them upstairs to the others.

Alya handed them both bowls of soupy ice cream. It was nicer than Marinette had expected. Sadder, too, bringing to mind memories of Andre’s ice cream trolley. This was a far cry from all her plans to share a sweethearts’ ice cream cone with Adrien. Where was Andre now? Was his trolley sitting somewhere on the street abandoned, all the ice cream melting?

They finished eating, and with shaking hands, Marinette picked up some of the dishes. Without a word, Adrien helped her gather up the rest and followed her into the kitchen, where she began loading up the dishwasher. It was only when she pressed the power button that it hit her what a pointless task that had been.

‘There’s no power,’ she said.

‘I know.’

‘And no water.’

‘...yeah.’

She met his eyes and understood. He’d known all along but let her go through the motions because she’d needed to. She’d needed some sense of normality, even if it was only for a few minutes.

‘I guess we…eat with our hands tomorrow?’ she said. 

He gave her a small smile. ‘Like little kids. It’ll be great. Soup might be a little tricky, though.’

Despite everything, she let out a weak laugh. This was why it was good to be with him. 

The sound of laughter behind them made them turn. Nino was crawling around on all fours in the living room with Ella on his back. She was calling out orders, while Etta cried out, ‘My turn! My turn!’

August clapped and giggled.

‘Nino’s a horse,’ Alya explained when Marinette and Adrien joined her beside the couch. ‘Well, actually…a unicorn.’

Chris stood to the side, with Manon, who was still engrossed in her game.

‘You guys are really good with them,’ Adrien said.

Alya raised an eyebrow. ‘Unicorns?’

‘The kids.’

‘Oh. Yeah, well, I guess you get used to it when you grow up with little siblings.’

Marinette had often wanted a little sister. How different would her situation have been right now, if she’d gotten her wish?

Her gaze flickered to Manon.

Be careful what you wish for….

Alya chewed at her lip. ‘So, um…Nino and I were thinking about all those other little kids out there who don’t have older siblings to look after them.’

Marinette exchanged a look with Adrien, then looked back at Alya. ‘Like the kids we found at the Eiffel Tower?’

‘Exactly. And all those kids at the daycare… They need someone to – to take care of them. We can't just abandon them.' 

‘No,’ said Adrien, staring at the floor, maybe seeing the infant on the Tower. ‘We can’t.’

‘I don’t – I don’t even know where most of them will be sleeping tonight,’ Alya went on, her voice wobbling. ‘I led them over to the daycare, earlier, but I…I didn't go in. I could hear crying. There must be so many babies in there. They must be so hungry and scared. But I couldn’t….’ She swallowed.

Nino had put Ella down and joined them now, easing a reassuring arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder. ‘Tomorrow, babe. We’ll help them tomorrow. We’ll make sure they’re okay. Every last one of them.’

Alya gave him a tear-filled smile and suddenly it felt wrong to watch them.

‘Can we go home, now?’ Ella asked.

Alya wiped her eyes and turned to the children. ‘We’re staying here tonight, remember? A really big sleepover with all of us.’

‘But I want Maman,’ Ella said. 

‘Me too,’ said Etta. 'I want to go home.' 

‘There’s no one to go home to,’ said Chris sullenly, causing the twins to look at him with identical expressions of horror. 

‘Why aren’t they home?’ asked Ella.

‘Where’s Maman? And Papa? And Nora?’ asked Etta. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. 

Alya glanced at her friends, then leaned down on her thighs and looked at the children. ‘They’re…they’ve gone away on a little trip. But…they’ll be back soon.’ She rubbed the tops of her sisters’ heads.

‘They won’t,’ said Chris, arms across his chest. ‘Miss Desmier disappeared right in front of us and there’ve been no adults ever since. They’re just gone.’

'They’re coming back!’ yelled Ella.

‘Are not.’

‘Are too!’

‘Are not! They're probably dead.’ 

‘Chris!’ Nino exclaimed.

Manon flinched. Marinette turned to her, alarmed. Her eyes had gone wide, her whole body tensing up. 

August began to cry. 

There was too much noise, now. The twins were talking, becoming increasingly frantic. Chris was arguing with Nino. August continued to wail. Manon had begun to rock slowly back and forth. At any moment the rocking would get faster, more exaggerated. She might even start that high-pitched noise she made when she got really agitated, and that would only set off the others even more. 

Quickly, Marinette crossed the room and knelt before her. ‘Manon, it’s okay, everyone is just excited to have a sleepov–’ 

‘I’m not,’ Chris said from behind her, and Nino hissed at him to be quiet. 

Manon was still rocking back and forth. Marinette tried to stay calm, tried not to show how much her heart was racing, her hands shaking. ‘A sleepover is a kind of party where we all sleep in the same room together so we’re not alone,’ she continued, her voice low. ‘That’s nice, isn’t it? Having all our friends with us?’

In fact, Manon probably didn’t care. Maybe she would have even preferred to be alone. But it wasn’t safe. 

Marinette lifted Manon’s hands, which still clutched the gaming console, up to her face, to redirect her attention. It worked. Marinette breathed out a silent, shaky sigh of relief, squeezing her eyes shut. 

After a moment, she stood and turned back to the others. Chris had turned away angrily, arms crossed. The twins were hugging Alya’s legs, sniffling. Adrien had picked up August and was holding him tightly in his arms, rocking him slightly back and forth. 

‘Come on, everyone,’ said Alya, clearly trying to keep her voice even – confident. ‘Time to go fight some dragons!’ 

‘Where?’ said the twins, rubbing at their eyes. 

‘There are no dragons,’ said Chris. ‘All these games are for babies.’

‘Fine,’ said Alya. ‘Then we can fight dragons and you can just get ready for bed. Happy now?’

Chris grunted. 

‘The dragons are upstairs ,’ Alya carried on.

‘Actually, there’s one right here ,’ Nino said, and he hunched down with his hands up, fingers curved like talons, and lurched at the twins. They shrieked with delight and scrambled up the steps to Marinette's loft with him chasing after, their sadness forgotten at least for the moment. 

Chris sighed.

Alya put an arm around him. ‘Come on, little dude. You don’t even need to wash or brush your teeth. Isn’t that the dream?’ She ushered him up the stairs.

Her movements slow, Marinette stood and went over to Adrien. August’s cries had quieted to soft whimpers as he nuzzled his face into Adrien’s chest, clutching his jumper. Adrien adjusted him in his arms, sniffing him. ‘Do you think he needs changing?’ he asked. ‘I mean, he just ate, so….’ 

Alya’s words came back to her: you don’t even need to wash or brush your teeth. ‘There’s no water,’ she said.

‘...yeah?’

‘So we can’t…we can’t clean him. Like…give him a bath, or anything.’

Adrien mouthed an oh. ‘I guess we just…wipe him off as best we can, then? Like Alya did? And in the morning, we can get some more water from the store. Enough to give him a bath. And us.’ 

Her shoulders relaxed. ‘You’re right. There’s water out there, even if it’s not in the house. We’ll be fine.’ She’d said that maybe too many times.

August did, in fact, need changing. They wrapped their hands in towels while they did the job on the living room floor and threw them in the bin after. It wasn’t exactly the heart-pounding romantic scenario she’d dreamt up all those nights she’d lain in bed thinking of Adrien – but then, nothing they’d gone through that day was.

It hit her that she hadn’t stammered around him in hours. Somehow she had become…comfortable with him. Sort of. After all they had lived through together in just one day – the adults disappearing, Adrien rushing into that burning building, two dead bodies, looking after all those children – worrying about whether he would turn her down if she told him she loved him seemed like the lowest priority.

Adrien carried August and Marinette led a distant Manon up the stairs and through the hatch into Marinette’s loft room, which had been rearranged in their absence. There were sleeping bags and blankets and bed covers strewn on the floor and the chaise. The kids were tucked up under them.

Alya approached Marinette, fiddling with her fingers. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I…went into your parents’ room for more bedding.’

The confession stung, but she quickly brushed it aside. ‘It’s…yeah, I understand. That was good thinking. You could take some of the cushions off the couch, too.’

‘Great idea. Nino?’

He headed down through the hatch. ‘On it.’ 

Marinette led Manon to a spare set of bedding on the floor. There were no pyjamas for her. They’d have to figure out clothes in the morning. ‘Here, Manon. This is where you’re sleeping tonight, okay?’

Manon did not look up from her game.

Marinette gently drew the game from her, setting it on the floor, and unclipped Manon’s overalls, sliding them off. Manon did nothing to help, but at least she didn’t resist. Marinette pointed at the bedding. ‘Bed. Sleep.’

Manon stared at it blankly, then dutifully climbed under the blanket and lay down. She closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep in a heartbeat. She must have been exhausted. They all were. 

Nino returned with a heap of cushions and started arranging them on the floor next to the others.

‘I need the toilet,’ Ella announced.

‘Me too!’ said Etta, inspired.

Alya threw Marinette a look – one of those looks that said Marinette was expected to have an answer.

‘Um…I mean, they can use the toilet downstairs but it…I guess it won’t flush.’

‘Ew!’ the twins said in unison.

‘We’ll make do,’ said Alya. ‘Come on, I’ll take you.’ She led them out of the room and Marinette helped Adrien set up a little bed for August, on the floor but beside the wall, so there was less chance of anyone rolling over on him.

So many kids, so much responsibility…. It was dizzying. People voluntarily had babies? And did this all the time? She’d never felt so tired, and this was just one day . Maybe there was a reason her parents never had more than one.

‘You okay?’ Adrien asked. Trust him to notice. 

She let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’m just…starting to feel it…you know?’

He nodded. Of course he knew.

They got August tucked in as he sucked on his dummy, and in no time he was as fast asleep as Manon.

Alya returned with the twins and settled them back into their makeshift beds before crawling into her sleeping bag near them. Nino was in a sleeping bag beside her. Chris was on the chaise. The torch was left on. The last thing they needed was frightened children in the dark in the middle of the night.

‘I feel like I could sleep for a million years,’ Alya said.

‘Same,’ Nino mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

Marinette felt similar, but when she glanced up the ladder to her bed, she couldn’t bring herself to walk towards it – to climb up those steps – to sleep up there alone. Not after everything that had happened. There were too many images in her head, images she was certain would find their way into her dreams.

‘I’m not sure I can sleep just yet,’ Adrien whispered. ‘Maybe you could…come downstairs with me and keep me company for a bit?’

She turned slowly towards him. Just the two of them? Alone together, at night, with no parents around? In another world, it would have made her tremble. Now, she merely nodded numbly. ‘I’ll just…get changed first.’ 

Adrien nodded. ‘My pyjamas are in my bag downstairs. I’ll go change in the bathroom and…meet you in the living room?’

‘...sounds like a plan.’

He held her eyes a moment, then headed out of her room.

She swallowed and stepped around the children to retrieve her pyjamas, discarded beside her vanity table that morning as she’d hastily got ready for school – late once again. 

School. There would be no school tomorrow.

Pressing back tears, she quietly climbed down through the hatch. The living room was dark, and she could have changed there, but instead she found her legs carrying her down another floor, to where her parents’ bedroom was located, lighting her way with her phone. 

Opening the door without them there felt wrong, but not as wrong as their absence when she crept inside. It was like stepping on hallowed ground. She wasn’t supposed to be here. They were. Why weren’t they here?

Fingers trembling, she got changed, then stood in front of her mother's full-length mirror, holding up the phone to see. God, she looked pathetic. What would Adrien make of her creased pyjamas and the ice-cream stain on her top? Probably think, Typical clumsy Marinette. 

Her hand went to the stain. She’d spilled the ice-cream while laughing at something in the film she’d been watching with her parents the night before. 

How had that only been twenty-four hours ago? 

A knock on the door startled her before the tears could fall. ‘Marinette?’ Adrien whispered.

How had he known she was in here? Swallowing, she opened the door for him, careful not to shine her light in his eyes. ‘...hey.’ 

‘Hey, I….’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I had this feeling like maybe….’ His eyes flickered down at her pyjamas, then back up at her face. His cheeks appeared to flush, even in the darkness. ‘You ready?’

Ready for what? This time alone with you? This night without my parents? The coming morning and whatever we might need to do? No, no, no and no.

‘Yeah.’ She eased out of the room and took one last look in it before closing the door and following Adrien back up the stairs.

Chapter Text

Marinette seemed to be taking a long time. Was that normal? Did girls just…take longer to get ready for bed? Or had something happened? Should he check on her?

He took mental stock of her house, of all the places she might be, and it hit him. Her parents’ room.  

Using his phone to light the way, he found the only room it could be and lifted his hand. Hesitated. Then knocked. ‘Marinette?’ he whispered.

When she opened the door, the sight made him draw in a breath. Gone were her day clothes, replaced with fitted pyjamas. She’d taken her hair out of its usual pigtails, so that it tumbled down her shoulders. Standing there, he was struck by how small she looked. How vulnerable. Almost like a different person. She was…she was….

‘Hey, I….’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I had this feeling like maybe….’ His eyes flickered down at her pyjamas, then back up at her face. He could feel his cheeks warming. ‘You ready?’

She took so long to answer that he thought maybe he’d imagined speaking. Then she said, ‘Yeah,’ and stepped out of the room.

Although it was her house, he led her up the stairs and into her own living room, where he switched on a lantern torch they’d left on the table.

She stretched her head to either side and winced as she rubbed one of her shoulders.

‘You okay?’ he asked, knowing the answer. Of course she wasn’t okay. None of them really were. Not after the day they'd had.

She let out a breath. ‘It – just my back…,’ she mumbled. ‘I think, from carrying August, and some of the other kids…I wasn’t really used to it.’

‘Do you….’ He swallowed, his gaze flickering over to her shoulders. ‘I could…give you a massage…if you want? My mother used to give me one sometimes, after my fencing practice. It always helped.’ 

She was silent for a long moment, staring blankly ahead. Then she raised her head slightly, meeting his eyes. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘But only if…if you don’t mind.’ 

‘N-not at all.’

There was an awkward moment as they thought of a way to arrange themselves. He ended up sitting on the couch, legs crossed, with her on the floor in front of him. As his hands hovered over her shoulders, it hit him what a terrible idea this was.

What if the power chose this moment to work its way through him? 

In his mind, he saw the little girl in the building – her charred skin – her face….

He suppressed a deep shudder. It was bad enough doing that to a little girl. If he did it to Marinette –

‘You okay?’ she asked, jolting him out of his thoughts.

‘Y-yeah, I’m…I was just…preparing. Flexing my wrists.’ He did it now, so it wasn’t a lie. Then, carefully, he placed his hands on her shoulders. He felt her tense, as if she knew what he’d been thinking – what he’d done in that fire.

Or maybe she was just shy.

God, he hoped she was just shy.

‘Is this okay?’ he asked.

‘Y-yeah.’

‘Just…tell me when you want me to stop.’ 

‘Okay.’

Please say stop – right now . A vision filled his head of her skin bubbling under his fingers, red and blistered, sliding off her bones.

He shook the awful image out of his mind and focused on his task – on the way her soft hair spilled onto her shoulders, the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her top, and the small bumps that could only be the straps of her bra. Despite everything, he felt his cheeks warm.

His hands tingled as he began to move them, gently rubbing her shoulders where they met her neck. She let out a soft sigh that made him feel something he couldn’t define. 

‘D-does it feel okay?’ His voice wavered slightly. 

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘It's – good.’

He carried on, digging the heels of his hands into her shoulders.

If he killed her, he’d have to leave – that night. He wouldn't be able to face their friends – or himself.

She kept making little sounds of release, and gradually he felt the muscles shift, knots coming undone. He moved his hands down her shoulders, kneading her upper back.

Maybe if it came to it, he could lay hands on himself. No one would ever have to suffer again.

‘You can stop, if you want,’ she said in a small voice.

He blinked and pulled his hands away, a weight lifting from his shoulders. ‘You’ve had enough?’

She turned slowly and peered up at him under her eyelashes. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, even in the low lighting. ‘Thank you.’

‘It's…no problem.’ He was never volunteering for that again. Not until he got his power under control – if he could control it.

His heart felt heavy with the thought of the dark secret he was keeping from her. She deserved to know, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. If she knew, she would probably throw him out and never talk to him again. That hurt in a way he couldn’t process. How selfish did that make him? 

She got up and sat at the other end of the couch from him, bringing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

He stared down at his hands, unsure what to say, how to proceed. They’d shared so much today, and yet….

‘I don't blame them for being so scared and upset,’ she said softly.

He tilted his head in question. She could have been talking about anyone.

‘The kids, I mean. I…I feel the same.’ She said this like she was embarrassed. As if she thought he would judge her. Even after everything they'd already been through together. 

‘I’m scared, too.’

She met his eyes again and they shared a small, sad smile – the smile of two survivors of the same disaster. Then her smile crumbled and tears were spilling from her eyes.

He quickly scooted across the couch to sit closer to her. ‘What…what’s wrong?’

But she only cried harder, and tears welled up in his eyes, too. Perhaps the real question was what wasn’t wrong? He glanced again at his fingers, then put the horrible thoughts out of his head and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug as he had on the tower. She sobbed into her hands, cheek pressed against his chest, curled up against him, and he held her until the tears quieted and she drew back, her face wet, shining under the light of the torch. He instantly mourned the loss of contact. 

‘I’m…I’m sorry,’ she choked out, her head down, gaze on her knees. 

‘Don’t be. It’s…it's a lot to take.’ Understatement of the century. 

‘It – it hasn’t even been a whole day yet, but I miss my parents so much …. I just – I just want them back.’ 

His heart ached. Why couldn’t he have been given a useful power, like the ability to end grief and make someone instantly happy? Or make missing parents magically rematerialise?

If I could do that, I’d have done it a long time ago.

Words slipped out. ‘You know, when my mother died…it…it felt a bit like this.’

She slowly lifted her head, staring at him with wide eyes. She wiped at her cheeks. ‘God, Adrien, I’m sorry, I should’ve thought –’

He shook his head. ‘No, Marinette, honestly. It’s fine.’

‘You’ve never…you've never really said….’

‘Yeah, it’s…I guess it’s not the kind of thing you bring up casually.’ The near-darkness of the room made the words tumble more easily out of his mouth. ‘When she went…well, that was a kind of poof , too. One minute, she was in the world with me. Then suddenly…she was gone.’

‘...gone?’

‘They…they never found the body. See, she just kind of…disappeared. I was at a fencing lesson and when I came home there were police officers at the mansion, interviewing my father. He looked stricken, like the most emotional and shocked I have ever seen him, trying to answer the officers’ questions. Most of his answers were just I don’t know .’

Her tears had slowed. ‘Why – why were they interviewing him? Did they think he had something…something to do with it?’ 

‘...maybe? But I know he didn’t. The horror in his face…that was genuine, and I think they saw it too. No, my father was in pieces after that. He was never really the same.’

‘He wasn’t as stern and hard before that?’

Adrien shook his head. ‘Always. But he grew colder, more distant after my mother’s vanishing act. And after enough time had gone by, she was declared dead. I decided to think of her as dead, so I could try to grieve but…well, it’s hard, when there’s always a small flickering chance that she might just show up again one day. You know, sometimes…sometimes I have this dream – or maybe it’s a nightmare, I’m not really sure – where she returns. I guess…it’s hard to explain why I might see that as a nightmare. But it's like…as long as she’s gone, she…she just died .’ He let out a humourless laugh.

Marinette sniffed, rubbing at her eyes. Her voice was thick and she looked hollowed out. ‘I’m s-sorry. Here I am, crying about my parents being gone, and it’s only been half a day. Your mother….’

‘It really is okay. But yeah…it’s been nearly three years. The anniversary is coming up in a few months. And in all this time…I’ve never talked with anyone about it before.’

She blinked at him – then reached for his hand. He flinched, then accepted her warmth. ‘Thank you…for telling me,’ she said.

He met her eyes – dark pools in that limited lighting. ‘Thank you for listening.’

She stared back at him for a moment, then let go and wrapped her arms around her legs again. 

‘Do you think they're okay?’ she said, her voice weak and unsteady. She didn't have to clarify who she meant. 

‘I…they must be. I mean, they have to have gone somewhere, right?' He swallowed. 'They can’t have just…vanished from existence. Things – things don’t work like that. It’s only logical to assume they teleported…somewhere else. Somewhere…somewhere outside the dome, maybe? On the other side? Because…the rest of Paris, it has to be there, right?' 

‘...right.’ 

‘And if there’s an outside, there must also be a way for us to reach that outside. To get out. Or for others to get in.’

‘You…really think so?’

He nodded, even though he had no idea. ‘Maybe, right this very minute, our parents are just on the other side, trying to break in. And in the morning, we’ll step outside and find a giant hole in the wall, large enough for us all to go through and get out.’

An image came to mind, of his father with his suit tossed aside and his sleeves rolled up, driving a jackhammer into the barrier. A half-laugh, half-sob bubbled out of him. 

She gave him a thin smile, but fresh tears found their way down her cheeks. ‘It won’t bring back that little girl…or the…the….’

His arm was around her again. Because she was right. Even if they escaped in the morning, those children were dead. He would never unsee those images.

As if reading his thoughts, she whispered, ‘I keep seeing their faces.’

‘I…I do too.’

‘We didn’t even know their names.’

That was somehow the worst part – the unmarked graves they’d left Luka to dig. ‘I can still…I can still feel the heat of those flames, and…and see the girl sitting there, her hands raised….’

He felt Marinette stiffen in his arm. ‘Her…hands?’

Again, the darkness made this easier. As if what happened now, and anything he said, didn’t count. In the morning it would all be a bad dream, like everything else that day. ‘...the girl…she wasn’t…she wasn’t trying to run from the fire,’ he said in a small, tight voice.

‘...was she scared?’ 

‘No. I mean…probably…. Maybe…?’

‘Adrien, you’re not…making sense.’

He pulled away from her. A painful feeling was growing in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. In a rush of words, he let it out. ‘The fire was coming from her hands.’

There was a horrible, long silence, before Marinette said, ‘You mean…she…?’

‘I know.’ He let out a flat laugh. ‘Crazy, right?’

‘No… No, it’s not.’ She looked up at him, her stare penetrating. She absolutely believed him.

‘Right…. I guess it can’t be much crazier than all the adults disappearing.’

She continued to stare at him – then took a deep breath, her hands curling into fists. ‘Did she…did that girl burn herself? Is that why she….?’

This was his moment. He could lie – tell her yes, that the girl had accidentally killed herself. But he didn’t want to. Keeping this secret wouldn’t change what had happened. And someday, he might hurt someone again, and then they would all find out what he really was.

‘No,’ he whispered. He stared at his hands, half-expecting them to start glowing now. The words burst out of him like the energy that had burst from them hours earlier. ‘It was me. I burnt her.' 

There was another painfully long pause in which there was only the sound of the blood rushing in his ears and his heartbeat racing. Surely this was the point when she would throw him out of the house.

‘...like…how you burned away your bathroom door?’

He looked up at her sharply, the breath catching in his throat. ‘How –’

She gave the tiniest of shrugs. ‘I…just now, when you told me she made the fire…it just came to me. I knew you weren’t telling the truth about it, in your bedroom….’

‘Marinette, I –’ 

‘It’s fine.’ The sadness was heavy in her voice. ‘I don’t…blame you.’

‘But….’ His eyes stung. ‘But I hurt someone. Shouldn’t you be throwing me out? I – I killed her.’ 

She shook her head. ‘It was an accident, wasn’t it? You didn’t mean to. I know you didn’t.’ 

‘But I should’ve –’ His own tears fell now, hot and blurring his vision. ‘I should’ve learnt to control it, the first time it happened. I should’ve been more careful. The girl – she was aiming flames at me and I threw up my hands to protect myself and then it just…it just came out of me and I couldn’t – I couldn’t –’ 

He choked on the words, and it was her turn to hug him, leaning over and pulling him into her arms. She didn’t tell him it was okay, because it wasn’t. She didn’t offer him any comforting words. But she held him as he cried, and that was enough. More than he deserved. 

He leaned into the hug, needing it as much as he needed to pull away – to put distance between them so he couldn’t hurt her.

When his tears slowed, he disentangled himself and sat back.

‘We can't tell anyone,’ she said thickly. ‘About the girl, or….’ 

‘W-why?’

Her eyes were fixed on the couch. ‘If people found out that – that some people have powers…can you imagine how they might react?’

‘You – you think other people have powers? Other than that girl, and…me?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but…it makes sense, doesn’t it? For more than thr – two people to have them….’

Makes sense. As much as it could make sense for people to have developed powers. Magic powers. When magic didn’t exist. When magic wasn’t supposed to exist. Because how could they deny the existence of magic after what they’d seen today? 

But she was right. If he had powers, and that girl had powers, then it stood to reason that there could be others out there dealing with the same thing. Were there kids out there at this very moment, scared, confused, hating themselves?

He had no idea how or why he had the ability to burn things with his hands. That day weeks earlier, in his bedroom…it had just happened. Any other time he’d felt angry, he’d never burned things. And yet somehow…somehow now he….

A fresh image filled his mind – of going into the burning building. But instead of the little girl, it was Marinette amid the flames. It was Marinette he killed.

His fists clenched, and he shook his head hard, swallowing the thick lump that had risen in his throat. ‘I'm – I’m dangerous, Marinette. I can’t…I can’t control it. I could hurt y-you.’

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then said, ‘You won't.’ Her voice came out unsteady, in contrast with her determined expression. ‘You can just…learn to control it.’

‘But what if I can’t?’

She took a shaky breath, then reached for his hand, placing hers over his. ‘You will. I know you will.’

He stared at their touching hands. The thought of trying to control the magic, trying to tame it, made him feel ill. ‘This isn’t some awesome superpower, Marinette. It’s – it's a deadly weapon . I don’t want to learn to control it. I just want it gone .’

‘I…I know,’ she whispered, not removing her hand.

He pressed his eyes shut for a moment. Marinette didn’t hate him. She wasn’t telling him to leave. But why not?

He opened his eyes. ‘We should…we should get some sleep.’

She glanced in the direction of the stairs, then back at him. ‘Yeah. Probably.’

Neither of them moved. Then he took the lead and stood, and she stood too, crossing her arms over her chest. He retrieved the torch and lit their way up the stairs, back up through the hatch that led into her loft room. The others were fast asleep.

Two spots were left open for them on the floor, close together. Two pillows and a single blanket. Perhaps they could have tried to arrange more bedding, but Marinette looked about ready to collapse, and he wasn’t that far off himself. 

She was staring at that blanket like she’d forgotten what you did with such a thing.

‘After you?’ he said.

She nodded stiffly, then slowly climbed under the blanket, her body strangely rigid. He climbed in after her, a careful foot away, with August fast asleep on his other side.

Still holding the torch, Adrien turned the other way and found himself face to face with Marinette, who had the blanket bunched up to her neck. 

‘I’ve never had a sleepover before,’ he whispered.

‘I’ve…never had one quite like this,’ she said.

Up close like that, he saw dark circles under her eyes. He wouldn’t keep her up any longer.

‘Goodnight, Marinette.’

‘Goodnight, Adrien.’ She let her eyes fall closed, and he switched off the torch, plunging them into darkness more total than any he’d ever experienced. In the absence of the streetlight outside, there wasn’t even a dim glow. Was the moon hidden too?

Without the hum of electricity, the only sound was of everyone breathing deeply as they slept. Marinette’s breathing grew heavy, too. It was slow and hypnotic, like a cat purring, and he felt his own eyes close. 

All his life, he’d slept alone in a too-large bedroom, with his father at the other end of the mansion. Despite the circumstances, there was something beautiful about sleeping in the same room as his friends. It was an act of trust – trust that they would each take care of each other while they were unconscious and vulnerable.

And Marinette trusted him most of all. He’d shared his most terrible secret, the secret that had been eating him up inside for weeks, and she hadn’t abandoned him. She was right there, beside him, sharing a blanket with him . Never had anyone accepted him so instantly and wholeheartedly.

Maybe the others would be afraid. Maybe they would hate him. He might lose everyone else. 

But he wouldn’t lose Marinette. For whatever reason, that fact made his heart beat more easily and his breathing steady, the memory of her warm skin under his fingertips sending him off to sleep.

Chapter Text

For Chloe Bourgeois, the morning everything changed began as boring as any other. 

She sat in the backseat of the car hired to drive her back from her private salon appointment – doctor's appointment, to anyone who asked – scrolling through social media on her phone. Ugh , it was like a nonstop parade of people of average attractiveness showing off their photos like they thought they were special. It was a shame Adrien didn’t post more. She wouldn’t mind seeing pictures of him . But when he did think to share, it was usually something lame like a picture of the Lahiffe boy DJing.

Even Sabrina was lame, when it came to social media. She was supposed to post photos of Chloe, carefully directed to look spontaneous. But she’d been slacking, lately. Something about needing to focus more on her homewo –

Without warning, the car swerved, pitching sharply to the right with a horrible squeal. Before she could process what was happening, she was thrown against the car door, her phone flying out of her hand. She reached out to grab it before it could fall to the floor, but the car slammed into something hard, flinging her forwards before her seat belt snapped her back into her seat. Another car slammed hers from behind and she was flung forward and back a second time.

Then everything went still and worryingly quiet.

She sat, stunned, blinking.

What – what just happened? 

Although she was alive, her neck and back ached something awful, and her head spun. This…this was her first car accident. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to people like her. What was she even supposed to do?

She swallowed and, with shaking hands, slowly inched herself forward, feeling around the floor for her phone. It felt better when she held it again.

She dared to look at the front seat, where there was…no one. 

'Jean-Pierre?' she made out, her voice strangled. Her gaze travelled over to both the front doors. They were closed. But that didn't make any sense. How could he have left, if the doors were closed? She would have heard them open - she would have seen him. 

Maybe he'd just…turned invisible? 

But there was…there was just no way…. 

As her eyes took in more of the scene, she jolted back in her seat, her heart racing. It was a good thing she hadn't been sitting in the passenger seat, because the entire front half of the car was crumpled against a wall, and it was –

No no no no no!

Panic surging through her veins, she worked at the seatbelt, her fingers no longer knowing how to move and her stare glued to the flames erupting from the bonnet – fire engulfing the front of the car. A loud curse erupted from her throat, and she found the button to release the seat belt. Adrenaline helped her throw open the car door, and she hurled herself to the ground, just as the vehicle exploded. 

It wasn't like one of those Hollywood films where the hero leaped to safety at the last second. Explosions didn't work that way. The fire caught her legs and she felt herself burning. 

She screamed through the pain, scrambling away, slapping herself and remembering belatedly to roll, then rolling and rolling, thinking she might never stop, might never get enough distance between herself and the burning car. 

At last, her energy ran out and she stopped, maybe thirty feet away, sprawled on the ground, panting and staring at the wreckage…allowing herself to take in the wider scene. The ‘wall’ she'd crashed into wasn’t just a wall. At least…not any wall she’d seen before. It was a filmy, milky colour that rose up from the ground right up to the sky, seemingly dividing her from… everything.

Some cars had been sliced straight through by that wall. And as she turned her head, she saw a queue of cars stretching straight down the road, several now on fire. It was as if by taking in the sight of it, her other senses kicked in too. Only now did she notice the sound of alarms going off.

She threw her hands to her ears. The flesh was bubbling. Stifling another scream, she cast her eyes slowly down. Her expensive designer clothing was in tatters, covered in dirt, burned away from the waist down. The skin of her legs was exposed, looking like it had been flayed and then cooked in a frying pan. 

‘Daddy,’ she managed to whisper, her voice wobbly.

The pain became too much, white and blinding, and the world disappeared. 

When she woke again, the searing pain almost had her blacking out again. She let out a choked scream. Her legs, her skin…she couldn't look at her skin – what was left of it, burnt away to the white of the bone in a way that just shouldn’t be possible.

None of this should be possible.

‘Jean-Paul!’ she screamed. ‘Anyone!’

There was no answer. 

I'm going to die. 

Hot tears blurred her vision, her body breaking out into sobs. 

Oh my god, I'm going to die. 

She tried to move, to push herself up, but fell to the ground, weaker than she’d ever felt. Darkness took her a second time.

When she regained consciousness, the car alarms had stopped, but the vehicles still burned, the air full of the sound of crackling and the stinging stench of petrol.

It was difficult to believe she was still alive. The pain was indescribable. Maybe she had died, and this was hell. It certainly had enough fire.

She stared at the infernal landscape through blurred vision, seeing double until it blended into one terrible image. Her body was angled awkwardly, her cheek half pressing into the rough asphalt underneath her. Bits of her hair had come loose, falling across her cheek and neck. She let out a wail. 

Oh god, her hair. She could feel the knots, the tangled locks matted and sticking to her sweaty skin, the rough clumps against her neck.

Oh, this was hell, alright. Her own personal hell. 

When they came across her body, was this how Chloe Bourgeois would be remembered? Looking like some kind of filthy peasant?

No.

No! 

The thought was too horrible to contemplate. She’d rather – she’d rather – 

A choked sob escaped her. 

There was no way she could die looking like this, just no way. She’d imagined her death before – her death pose , anyway. It would be breathtakingly beautiful. Elegant. Fabulous. In death as in life. Not like this. 

But what could she do? It was all too much. The pain was too much. It fogged her brain. Her memories of the moments leading up to now – of the accident – were already fading, becoming feverish and distorted, like something out of a dream. A nightmare.

She summoned her remaining strength and, in one final, meagre attempt at comfort, she wrapped her arms around herself. The movement only brought further agony, tearing another scream from her throat. The edges of her vision grew dark, and she lost all awareness once more.

The next time she came to, she felt heavy, her eyes slow to blink, as if she’d been asleep for a long time. Squinting up at the sky, however, it appeared to be as blue as it had been before. Maybe in hell, the earth didn’t turn. There was no sun. There was just this endless, awful day.

She risked a glance at her body – and did a double-take. 

Had – had she dreamed the burns? Hallucinated them? 

No….

She still ached all over. And the skin of her hands and legs was pink, as if she’d spent a little too long out in the sun. But other than that…her body looked completely healed. As if the accident had never happened. Somehow – miraculously – impossibly – she was okay. 

Except…. 

‘My clothes.’ Filthy, torn, burnt…a thousand euros down the drain. Oh well. Daddy would just have to buy her the outfit again.

She pushed herself to stand on unsteady legs, her arms shaking, then dusted off her hands on her already ruined crop trousers. And there was her hair. She steeled herself and dared to touch it, a violent shudder running through her. So much for her appointment.

‘Ugh! I really am a hot mess.’

 It could have been worse. She could have died. But it felt good to focus on her appearance. To minimise what had happened. If she thought too hard about the accident, she might lose more than her fashion sense.

‘Why is no one helping?' she bit out, angry. ‘Don’t they know who I am? How can they just leave me stranded here?’ She tapped her foot hard on the ground, as if that would bring people running to her aid. But no figures emerged from the wrecked cars, nor from any of the restaurants and stores lining the street. 

It was perhaps the most unsettling part of all this. That in a city as bustling as Paris, she was somehow alone. As if she’d just been transported into a pocket dimension like in that anime she’d watched with Sabrina once and they’d pinky sworn never to tell a soul. Only nerds watched anime. Probably Marinette Dupain-Cheng watched anime.

‘This has to be a dream,’ she decided. Talking to herself felt good. It was comforting. ‘A car can’t just drive itself. And it’s not like Jean-Marc just disappeared from the car.’ She laughed, but it sounded hollow.

An idea struck her, and she started walking on wobbly legs, towards the cars, the ones not on fire. She peered inside, all of them empty but with the doors sealed shut. Maybe people…did just disappear.

‘Chloe Bourgeois,’ she scolded herself. ‘You’re being ri-dic-ulous. Utterly ri-dic-ulous.’

But maybe that was allowed, under the circumstances. Maybe it was the rest of the world that was being ridiculous.

Except….

Her eyes latched onto that wall, again, looming up before her, completely impossible and yet completely there. She stared at it for a long time, then shook herself and stalked up to it. If it really was like that anime that she didn’t remember in vivid detail and most certainly had not cried over…then maybe she could just stick her arm through the barrier and…hop on over to the next world.

Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to base your life decisions on anime, but…who was there to judge?

She finger-combed her hair and fluffed it out as best she could, recomposing herself. Chin held high, she reached for the wall – then leapt back, shrieking and rubbing her hand. It burned, like she’d just been electrocuted. But it was still nowhere near the agony she had been in only a short time ago. 

This was no portal. This was a prison. Like an electric fence you used to keep in livestock. But Chloe Bourgeois wasn’t livestock. Whoever had done this was going to pay – just as soon as she could get hold of her father.

She shook out her hand, wincing, and checked her phone. The screen was a little cracked but still working. Only, there didn’t appear to be any bars of reception. She tried making a call anyway, and of course didn’t get as much as a dial tone. She really was…on her own.

But…but….

She rubbed her temples, thinking, thinking. ‘Ugh!’ She dropped her arms in disgust. ‘Sabrina’s the one who does this for me! Why isn’t she here!’ She stared around the alien landscape again and sighed. ‘Fine. I guess I just have to…walk back to the school. Yeah. That’s where I was headed anyway. I’ll continue with my journey and everything will…just work itself out.’

Which way was the school? The phone was no help. How was she supposed to bring up a map if she had no working data? What did commoners do? Wasn’t there some sort of paper map thingy people used? Where did you get one of those?

With no better idea, she started walking towards the Eiffel Tower, peeking out over the other buildings in the distance. It might have only been a mile but it may as well have been a whole continent away. She always travelled in the back of the car and let Jean-Jean take her wherever she needed to go. She couldn’t be expected to pay attention to the journey. She had her phone to get her through such tedious moments in life.

Now, she wished she’d looked out the window more. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone else. Not that there was anyone else to admit it to.

She happened across a metro stop and paused, chewing on her cheek and frowning deeply.

No, she wasn’t going to do this. No way.

But if she didn’t, she might be wandering around the city for hours. She would destroy her shoes.

She took a long, deep breath and squared her shoulders. ‘Yes,’ she told herself. ‘I can be brave. I can make the sacrifice for my Manolos.’ And she held her nose as she descended the disgusting steps into the underworld.

Her heart sank when she saw the smashed subway train, its doors half-open but not a passenger in sight. No one waited on the platform, either. She’d come down here for nothing.

‘I should’ve known,’ she said to the nothing. Had everyone died? But surely there would be bodies. Unless they were lasered to dust like in that other anime she’d watched and definitely not enjoyed at all.

She tapped her chin. There was no way to climb down onto the tracks, with the train blocking it. Otherwise, she could have followed them to…wherever they went. She’d probably just electrocute herself, too.

‘This is so lame,’ she declared. Then she climbed back out of the subway, pinching her nose shut again. When she released it, the smell of smoke in the air wasn’t much better. How far did the damage extend? Surely everywhere. This was her very own private apocalypse.

At least there was no one around to see the state of her hair.

Get a grip, Chloe! There are bigger things to worry about than your hair.

But she didn’t want to worry about those things. 

Her gaze halted on a map at the metro entrance. ‘A- ha! ’ She marched over to it, hands on hips, and studied it. Then snapped a photo with her phone and started walking with a clearer idea of where she was going.

She walked down a long cobblestone road lined on either side by cafes and restaurants. There were tables arranged outside, covered in plates of half-eaten food. Cutlery had been dropped on the ground, as if people had been mid-mouthful and just…disappeared.

For some stupid reason she couldn’t define, she thought of her shoe collection at the hotel. If this was a pocket dimension, were all the shoes gone, along with the people? Humans she could deal without, but her shoes…her shoes….

Ahhh the peep-toe black and gold sandals with six-inch stiletto heels…the perspex block heels…the mules with turquoise ostrich feathers…the sling-backs studded in genuine Swarovski crystals…. Who would look after them? Who would talk to them and take them out for their daily walks so they knew they were loved?

Tears finally poured out of her eyes, her body racked with sobs. She shook and wailed as loud and as messily as she needed to, not caring. Who was there to hear it? She cried louder, and the crying was cleansing, washing away a little of her misery and probably some of the grime on her face from the accident.

She ran dry when she heard her name.

Chloe….

It was almost a whisper but seemed to come from all directions. Which was impossible. But this was a pocket dimension prison, so all bets were off.

The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place why or where she might know it from. All she knew was that if there was someone to speak, she wasn’t alone after all.

‘Hello?’ she called out.

And she heard it again: Chloe….

This time, it seemed to be coming from one definite direction – and she followed it.

The voice kept saying her name, like an incantation or a prayer. She followed as if in a dream, until she found herself standing above a manhole in the middle of a street lined with smashed up cars.

The haze in her mind dissipated. ‘You’re not seriously thinking about climbing down there, are you?’ she asked herself. ‘It’s disgusting.’

But when she heard her name again, so clearly and distinctly coming from under that manhole, her traitorous hands were on the cover before she could stop them, with no idea as to why.

When she had the cover up, the voice grew louder: CHLOE….

She swallowed. Maybe it was that creepy clown from that horror film about the child killer. That would be just her luck. All the people would pop back into existence after she was gone and there’d be a story about her in the news, with photos of her looking like a…like a….

CHLOE….

The stench of the sewer wafted up through the manhole, crawling into her nostrils and filling her throat. She fought down vomit and stared down at the murky water lying below in the darkness, only partly illuminated by the eerie sunlight shining down through the hole.

If she climbed down there, she’d be in the dark. There looked to be a footpath at the side of the water. She wouldn’t have to swim in the murk. Even so. There were probably rats and spiders and all sorts of other vermin down there. And again…the dark…the smell….

CHLOE….

This time, the voice was physical, like a hand clenching her heart and squeezing it just enough to take her breath away. It felt like a threat, too. If you don’t come down here, I’ll show you just what I can do.

The hand held tight, refusing to release her. She couldn’t turn back if she tried. It was as if the voice were in her mind now, with her, part of her.

You have power, Chloe, power thanks to me. You’re so close to finding me. Come for me and let us be together. You don’t need to know the way. I’ll guide you. I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.

That was definitely what an evil killer clown would say before devouring her whole. And yet her legs were climbing down the old ladder, into the mouth of darkness.

Her final thought as she slid the manhole cover back into place above her head was that at least her clothes and hair couldn't get any more disgusting than they already were.

Chapter Text

Marinette moved from that place of unconsciousness into a dim awareness of the visions in her mind, then awareness of her thoughts. Her eyelids fluttered open, just a little, squinting at the light streaming in through the window, then closing again, unprepared for the day that awaited her.

For some reason, she was on her bedroom floor, rather than her loft bed.

That knowledge was enough to send the memories rushing back in, like she was riding a bicycle down a steep hill, unable to put the brakes on. A lump rose in her throat, tears welling behind her closed eyes.

All the adults disappeared. Adrien ran into a burning building. A girl died. And a baby. We rescued all those kids from the Eiffel Tower. And Manon…. 

She didn’t want to open her eyes. Opening her eyes meant facing reality – accepting that those memories weren’t remnants of some awful, twisted dream. It had all really happened. So she lay there, trying to keep her breathing even, drawing the blanket up over her face.

It was her father’s favourite blanket, passed down from Nona years ago. It still smelt like him – like Papa. And why wouldn’t it? Just a day ago he was dancing around the house, humming to himself as he made her breakfast. A fresh croissant, eggs, a glass of juice made from oranges he’d squeezed himself.

Maman and Papa are gone.

Her lower lip wobbled. Even after all the crying last night on the couch, with Adrien holding her tightly in his arms, a torrent of anguish still rushed through her, threatening to spill out. 

How had the world turned so horribly wrong – and so suddenly? To think that yesterday morning had started like any other…. She’d woken up on the third alarm, already five minutes late to school – raced to get ready, stuffing her homework into her bag. In the kitchen, after a hurried breakfast, she’d kissed her father on the cheek in greeting, then hugged her mother on the way out of the bakery. Her mother had called out something about not forgetting her history assignment, and Marinette had proudly yelled back that she hadn’t this time.

There had been no sign of what was to come. No warning. Everything had been exactly the same as it always was up until the very millisecond Ms Bustier – and everyone else – vanished.

The air had grown thin under the blanket, and she drew it back down, softly gasping in oxygen until her breathing calmed. Judging by the faint light filtering through her closed eyelids, it was early morning. When was the last time she’d woken up this early?

As she’d noted yesterday, there were none of the usual clicks and hums of the household electrical devices. Only the sound of light breathing, and a warmth over on her left side.

Her eyes widened, shapes forming in her periphery. Other people, on the floor with her, like a sleepover. Slowly, she turned her head to her left, her heart jumping at the sight of….

Adrien.

He lay on his back only a foot away from her, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted. His hair was a tangled mess of curls, a far cry from the professional styling in his modelling photos. If everyone could see the perfect poster pin-up Adrien Agreste now…. And yet, he was somehow even more beautiful for it.

She didn’t dare move. That might wake him, and then she’d lose this chance to study him, to take in every impression of his sleeping face. Her gaze travelled to his arm resting on his stomach, her cheeks warming as her body remembered the feel of his careful hands on her shoulders.

Oh.

They'd…they'd gone to bed together, hadn’t they. After talking on the couch. After he’d given her a massage.

A deep, hollow tiredness seemed to have settled in her bones, but thanks to him, her muscles were no longer in knots from the physical strain of the day before. Tense with anxiety, yes, and faintly sore from the uncomfortable position of sleeping on the hard floor…but not from all they'd done yesterday.

If the circumstances had been different, she would have been scrambling to scream about it to Alya. But now….

More memories slammed into her head. After the massage, they’d both cried. Because Adrien had confessed to having a power.

The power to burn things with his hands. 

She had suspected, back when she saw the destroyed bathroom door. That had definitely been caused by something unnatural. But to have him confirm it, and confess to having the power to create a burning light ….

A burning light that had killed that little girl in the fire – a fire the girl herself had created, with her own power. Her stomach twisted, though whether it was from hunger or grief or shock was hard to say.

His words from last night came back to her – his worry that she would throw him out. 

I hurt someone. I – I killed her.

I'm dangerous. 

She hated how he’d said it. As if it was his fault. As if he’d meant to do it. He carried his guilt like he’d carried those children, a dead weight pushing on his shoulders. But it was an accident . Adrien had reacted automatically, in self-defence, unable to control the energy flowing out of him. There was no way he, of all people, had meant to hurt that child. The way he’d held her, coming out of the building – how he’d insisted on giving her a proper burial…you didn’t act that way if you intended harm. It went without saying.

They were dealing with something unfathomable here. Magic. Not knowing how to deal with it was no one’s fault, much less his .

As if sensing her gaze, Adrien’s eyes blinked open. Slowly, his head turned, and he squinted at her in the early morning light. She watched the mélange of emotions shape his face, his expression changing with each memory undoubtedly dropping back into his head. Her heart clenched at a clear flash of pain shadowing his normally sunny features.

He shifted under the blanket, then rolled onto his side, facing her. ‘H-hey,’ he croaked out, his voice a near-whisper and thick with sleep. ‘...you okay?’

She wanted to lie. To say, ‘Yep, everything’s fine! Did you sleep okay? Floor not too cold?’ Anything but what she was really feeling.

She looked away, her hands tightening around the blanket. ‘No,’ she whispered. That no was all she could manage. But maybe he heard in it everything else tumbling through her mind.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know what's going to happen next. 

Will someone else die today? 

His touch startled her from her thoughts. He’d reached over and taken her hand. She allowed her fingers to loosen their hold on the blanket, and he laced his fingers through hers, squeezing. The feel of his skin made her cheeks burn, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to focus only on that small bit of comfort.

Yes. He understands.

A wail broke through the quiet of the room.

August. 

Adrien sighed and removed his hand. ‘I guess that’s our cue to get up.’

‘Y-yeah.’ But she didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to look after a baby or any of the other children. She didn’t want to deal with what the day held. She just wanted to lie on the floor holding Adrien’s hand.

He sat up, and she did the same, slowly incorporating. Around them, the lumps that were her friends, spread out on the floor, were also stirring, heads raising and arms stretching.

Nino’s sleepy face, his hair sticking up at the back, poked out of his sleeping bag.  ‘Whasgoingon?’

‘Ugh,’ Alya said beside him. ‘What time is it?’

As if he’d done this sort of thing a million times before, Adrien reached over to his other side and lifted August into his lap. ‘Hey, little guy, it’s okay. Did you sleep well?’

When August continued to cry, Adrien shot Marinette a helpless look. 

‘Here.’ She cast an anxious glance at the sleeping form on her other side. ‘I’ll take him – before he wakes Manon. Let’s go downstairs.’

Adrien handed him over, and she hugged August to her chest as she stood up on unsteady legs. A terrible thought hit her. Those kids who had died yesterday…they would not be waking up this morning. They would never wake up again.

Adrien, also standing, touched her shoulder. ‘You sure you got this?’

She forced her mouth to form the shape of some kind of smile. ‘I got this.’

Together, they headed down into the kitchen. At this time of morning, this early, she could always expect to see one of her parents in the kitchen. But today, it was empty. The blinds were still down. The lights were off. There was no kettle boiling in preparation for the tea her mother drank to start the day. Everything was still and quiet, except for August’s cries, which had now turned to low sobs. 

‘Maman,’ he whimpered, and a hot lump rose in her throat. 

‘I know,’ she said, her voice wobbling. She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I'm sorry.’

I want my maman too. 

‘We should get him some breakfast,’ Adrien said softly. 

Marinette nodded numbly. ‘I’d…I’d usually suggest cereal, but…the milk will have probably gone bad.’

‘There’s still some pastries left over that we didn’t finish last night.’ Adrien walked over to the pantry and pulled out a few paper bags. ‘And we could chop up some fruit as well? I brought apples and oranges from the mansion.’

A sigh of relief escaped her. ‘Okay.’ That bought them some time.

While she held August, Adrien went over to his bag, pulling out the fruit and setting it on the counter. Then he grabbed a handful of apples and went over to the sink, twisting the knob on the tap. 

Of course, nothing happened. 

They both stared. August whimpered.

Adrien let out a shaky laugh. ‘I forgot.’

Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat. Like I forgot about the dishwasher.

‘Things…things will be okay…right?’ The words streamed out of her mouth. ‘It's not like we’ll…we’ll starve. We have bottles of water, and we can just – we can get more, can’t we? From the supermarket? And food, once we eat everything here? There are dozens of supermarkets and cafes and –’

‘– restaurants and other bakeries.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Even if they don’t hold a candle to this one.’ 

She held his gaze. ‘You’re right. We’re…we’re going to be fine.’

‘Absolutely. We just have to make do until the adults come back. We’ll grab a few more things today, like bottled water, just to have at home. Maybe enough so we can wash the dishes? And give the kids a bath?'

Home. He said it so easily, as if it were understood that this was how it was, now. This was their home. Theirs and Alya’s and Nino’s and the children’s….

Because, like her, deep down he must sense that the adults would not be returning tomorrow. That for all they knew, it could be weeks until they did – maybe even longer – maybe never.

Her heart clenched, her breath shortening.

No. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

She forced her attention on the feeling of August in her arms, soft and warm and there – and Adrien as he started preparing food, cutting up enough fruit for all of them.

By the time he was done, the others had all woken and trailed down from her bedroom. Alya was last, one hand gripping Manon’s as she led her down the stairs very carefully.

‘She woke up a few minutes ago,’ Alya said to Marinette when they reached the bottom step.

Manon went over to the corner of the living room, where she sat down on a cushion, her gaming console in her hands.

Marinette gave Alya a tired smile. ‘Thanks.’ With some coaxing, she managed to lead Manon back to the others, to join them on the living room floor, snacking on stale pastries and slices of fruit. Shared between the nine of them, it wasn’t much – not even a whole pastry each. Marinette’s stomach churned with each bite. 

‘I want cereal,’ Chris whined, prodding a sad-looking piece of apple.

‘Feel free to grab some from the pantry,’ Nino said. ‘But there’s no milk.’

Chris sulked and ate his fruit.

‘So,’ Alya said. ‘What’s the plan for today?’

Plan? Marinette hadn’t thought that far ahead. Had refused to, just focusing on the now. How could you make a plan when you didn’t even know what time it was? Her phone had been left somewhere upstairs, its battery dead.

‘Marinette and I were talking about this,’ Adrien spoke up. ‘We should collect some more supplies. Torches. And batteries. The torch upstairs has already run out. And more water, too. I think there’s only a few bottles left? And nappies, for August.’ 

Alya nodded. ‘Nino and I need to check out the daycare. See if the kids there are okay, and…and help them out as much as we can….’ Her voice cracked, and Nino placed a comforting hand on her knee.

‘I should go to Manon’s house,’ Marinette mumbled. ‘Get some of her things. She doesn’t have any other clothes or anything. And August…we’ll have to find some for him, too.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Adrien said.

She nodded and looked down at her final slice of orange, torn between the private joy of finally building something with this boy and the pain of what it was costing her. What it was costing them all.

‘I wonder what all our friends are doing,’ said Nino.

Silence fell. Maybe they were all thinking the same thing – that it wasn’t just about them. This affected everyone they knew. The others were going through this too, trying to find their way, to figure out what to do. Maybe they were all wondering what the plan was, too.

Maybe they could help each other.

‘Are we going to school?’ asked Ella.

Alya’s mouth fell open, her eyes darting to her friends, seeking support, some answer she could give. But what could they say? ‘Not today,’ Alya told the children. ‘Think of this like…a holiday.’

Chris wrinkled his nose. ‘Some holiday.’

‘But it's not the weekend yet,’ Etta reasoned.

Chris rolled his eyes. ‘School is closed because the teachers disappeared.’

‘Chris…,’ Nino began.

‘What?’ his brother snapped back. ‘It’s true!’

Nino stared at him, then looked away – because he was right.

Without a word, Manon got up, taking her game, and sat a metre away, her back to them and head down, engrossed in play.

With all the subtlety only six-year-olds have, Ella asked in a loud voice, ‘Can she talk?’

Marinette glanced at Manon, who didn’t appear to have noticed she was now the subject of conversation. ‘Yes, Ella. She can talk. She just…doesn’t, most of the time.’ She finished her orange slice, her mind conjuring vicious memories of warm pain au chocolat, and licked her fingers, wiping them on her pyjamas as if she were a little girl again. ‘I’m going to get dressed and then we could…get going?’

Maybe the gesture was too abrupt, because Alya and Nino looked up at her with raised brows.

‘There's a lot to do,’ she said, her eyes on the floor. The list cycled through her head: the daycare…the kids…food…water…fresh clothes…and probably about a million other things no one was thinking of.

Nino looked to Alya. ‘So I guess we just get everyone dressed and head over, check on the other kids and…see what the day brings?’ He gave a helpless shrug.

Adrien indicated August and Manon. ‘What about…?’

‘We can take them with us to the daycare,’ Alya said. ‘Watch them for you, while you do your…errands.’ Maybe she could hear what a parental word that sounded like, too, because her voice grew tight, like Marinette’s throat.

‘Thanks,’ Marinette made out – and she turned on her heel, forcing herself to take it slow up the stairs, to get changed, to face the first full day in this new world.

Chapter Text

Volunteering to go with Marinette to round up supplies that morning hadn’t taken thought. After her acceptance of his confession last night, there was no way Adrien was leaving her side.

When they stepped out of the bakery, Nino, Alya and the kids set off straight for the daycare, which was located just down the street, in one of the buildings framing the park. Adrien watched them go, then turned to Marinette. She nodded at him, as if she’d read a question in his mind, and without words, they walked towards the park gates.

It was still early. There should have been birds singing, but the air was silent. He’d never paid enough attention to identify the birds by song. It had never mattered. Not until it was gone.

But there were still birds. He’d seen one with his own eyes, fried and dead on the ground by the barrier severing the Eiffel Tower in two. Maybe mutated eagle-clawed pigeons didn’t sing. What was there to sing about, in that condition?

The light was strange, too, in a way he couldn’t place. It didn’t feel like a normal sunrise. It was hard to spot which direction the sun was even shining from. More like the light was coming from all directions at once, almost like a floodlight on a set or a modelling shoot. Like they were all under a gigantic spotlight, being watched.

A strange thought came to him – that all of this was an experiment, a zoo, and they were the main attraction. But who would do such a thing? And how? Just saying ‘aliens’ didn’t explain things. His gut told him they were nowhere near close to the truth.

They stopped just at the gates, looking across the park. There weren't many kids up yet – nowhere near as many as yesterday. Probably sleeping in, with no parents around to wake them up and no school to go to. Nothing to be late for. 

The few who were there were dotted around on the grass, arranged in small social groups, some looking lost and unsure. Others bowed their heads toward each other, as if deep in discussion, their voices hushed. Like they were in a church but with no one to give them guidance. 

As if they had a will of their own, Adrien’s eyes travelled over to the building across the park – the building that had gone up in flames with the girl inside. The building he’d run into. A black husk of a structure, now, dark and hollow, seeming to suck away all the light and colour from the apartments beside it. 

He grew lightheaded, the world around him blurring, a rushing sound filling his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut.

It wasn’t a bad dream. It had all really happened. The girl was dead. He could still feel the heat of the flames lapping at his skin – taste the smoke on his tongue, creeping into his mouth and down his throat, choking him.

A hand was suddenly in his, squeezing his fingers. He sucked in a harsh breath, then opened his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Marinette’s skin against his. Warm. Alive.

The rest of his surroundings slowly came back into focus…but that taste of smoke didn’t fade. It wasn’t just in his head. It was faint, but there. Other buildings, buildings in the distance, the ones he’d seen from the top of the Eiffel Tower the day before, must still be burning – because the light wasn’t the only funny thing about the sky. If he squinted, he could see faint grey clouds over the city. 

What would happen when those clouds hit the top of the dome? Would they find a way to penetrate it? It wasn’t a vacuum. The oxygen seemed to be in normal supply. But maybe smoke took longer to filter through whatever was holding them in.

An overwhelming sense of sorrow overcame him. Whatever buildings were on fire…they were too far away. There could be people in there, crying out for help, slowly dying. Or already dead. But there was nothing they could do. They couldn't help everyone. 

The noise of dirt crunching behind them made him turn, only to be met with a familiar face, standing only a few steps away – Luka. He stepped up to them.

‘Morning,’ he said, like he was unsure what else to say. His expression was uncharacteristically serious and difficult to read. 

‘Morning,’ Adrien croaked out, the greeting echoed by Marinette. 

Notably, none of them called it a ‘good’ morning.

‘I wonder how many of us there are, in total,’ Marinette whispered. ‘Like, across the whole city.’

‘I can’t even imagine,’ Luka said, his voice just as quiet.

Adrien’s head swam. At the very least, it had to be thousands. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of kids, across the whole city. It was staggering. Overwhelming. 

Though…there were two less today than yesterday. 

His gaze fell on the trees at the far end of the park, at the dug-up ground underneath. At the dank new home of two kids whose names they didn’t even know. 

Elsewhere in the city, the numbers were no doubt dropping further.

He dragged his gaze away and met Luka’s eyes. He’d been watching him.

Luka exhaled heavily, as if releasing the previous subject, then nodded at the backpacks Adrien and Marinette were wearing. ‘Where are you guys headed?’

‘Just…to get some supplies,’ Marinette said, her voice heavy. ‘We – well we’re sort of looking after this baby I know. And he doesn’t have any clothes or anything. Same with Manon…um, someone I babysit. There isn’t much food left at home, so…we were going to search through some of the shops, see what we can find.’

‘Sounds like a good idea.’ Luka gave Marinette a small smile, like they were friends. But it was as plain as the unsettling sky that he felt something more. He looked at her too long and too hard, like he was trying to memorise her – or like he already had memorised her and was now relishing having the images in his head brought to life.

Adrien’s stomach fluttered, and he cleared his throat. ‘I – there’s…there's something I’d like to do, first, if…if that’s okay.’

‘What is it?’ asked Marinette. 

He swallowed. ‘I…I’d like to pay my respects.’ The words were awkward on his tongue, inadequate. He let the idea hang in the air between them and watched the penny drop, that understanding widening his friends’ eyes.

‘O-Oh,’ Marinette stammered out. She looked away, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly appearing very small. ‘That…yeah, of course.’

Luka nodded slowly. ‘They're…they’re just over there.’ He started forwards, and they followed him, steps heavy, to the two graves he and Ivan had dug. They were impressively flat and tidy, with twin tree branches stabbed into the ground as makeshift markers. 

Adrien stared down, sandwiched between his two friends. ‘You…you did a good job,’ he croaked out.

‘I…did it once before,’ Luka said. ‘I mean – not with a…with a….’ He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them again, taking a deep breath. ‘It was my pet hamster. I…I was nine and insisted on doing it myself. And you know what Maman is like. She likes to let us have our way, so….’

It was hard to imagine having a parent who believed in such a thing. Adrien had never even been allowed to have a pet, let alone bury one. Even when his mother disappeared, there’d been no funeral to attend. No closure. 

‘Do you know which is….’ He could hardly bring himself to finish the question.

‘The, um…she’s on the left,’ Luka answered softly. ‘It’s sort of…first come, first served.’

Marinette gave a sharp intake of breath at the wording. But there really was no right way to talk about this, because there was nothing right about any of it.

‘Thank you,’ Adrien said.

‘Sure,’ said Luka.

The air hovered between them – unmoving. Just like the children at their feet, under the ground.

Marinette shifted beside him. ‘We should…go to Manon’s place, first. It’s not far. I usually walk, if I’m babysitting there.’

‘...okay,’ Adrien whispered. But he didn’t move. Not until she touched his arm, startling him back to the land of the living.

They walked back, slowly, towards the gates. As they neared, the other children in the park raised their heads and looked over, like maybe Adrien and Marinette would give guidance.

Suppressing a shudder, he glanced at Marinette, who’d listened to him without judgement and accepted him into her home. With her innate warmth, she could definitely give some support – but him? No way. If they knew what he’d done...if they knew the girl in the ground was there because of him….

A sound caught his attention. The soft whooshing of wheels paired with a shrill rattling metallic sound, getting closer. The three of them came to a stop just outside the park gates. A moment later, the source of the noise made itself known. 

It was Alix, on her skates. Not an unusual sight…were it not for the large supermarket trolley she was pushing up the road towards them, weaving between the stopped cars. 

They all stared at her, speechless. 

‘Hey, guys.’ She slowed to a stop in front of them. The trolley was laden with supplies – packs of bottled water, bags of food, serviettes, cutlery….

‘What – what’s all this?’ Marinette managed, her eyes just as wide as Adrien’s.

Alix grinned at them. ‘Oh, just stuff for the café. Cool, right? And it was all free!’

‘The…café?’ Adrien asked. 

‘Oh,’ Luka said. ‘Kim's Cafe.’

‘Kim’s café?’ Marinette echoed.  

Alix nodded, pointing over to the cafe-bar at the corner of the square.  ‘Yep. You guys hungry?’

Even though they’d eaten not a half hour earlier, Adrien’s stomach growled. It really hadn’t been much of a breakfast, now that he thought about it. Not after all the food had been split between them. Plus…Kim had opened a café?

He exchanged a look with Marinette, the two of them coming to a silent agreement. Going to Manon’s could wait a little longer. 

‘A little, yeah,’ he said, turning back to Alix.

‘Great, come with me!’ 

Still pushing the trolley, she led the way to the café-bar. Tables were spread out on the pavement outside, some bearing cutlery and plates half-full of food. 

‘I was going to head here earlier, before I saw you,’ Luka said. ‘Juleka and Rose went in a while ago. The place has some kind of generator, so there's power. Last night, Kim found some ingredients and…well, you’ll see.’

Alix threw open a small side door, wedging the trolley into the doorway. It appeared to lead to a kitchen. Brushing her hands on her trousers, she indicated for them to follow, and moved around to the main entrance. 

As soon as Adrien stepped through the door, the smell of food hit him, making his mouth water. 

‘I'm back, people!’ Alix called out. 

To their right, in the corner, was the counter, where Kim stood with an apron around his waist. ‘Hey, guys! Welcome to Kim's Café!’ He beamed at them. 

Adrien took in the rest of the establishment. There were several small tables inside, half the chairs occupied. There were a few faces he didn’t recognise, but Juleka and Rose were also there, seated at the table closest to the counter. They waved at him, and he gave a small wave in return before turning back to Kim. Off to the side of the counter was an open doorway that led into the kitchen. Adrien caught a glimpse of Max darting past. Then Alix, who’d gone in and was now carrying a stack of bottled water, presumably from the trolley. 

‘So, what can I get you?’ Kim asked. 

‘You…you actually know how to cook?’ Marinette said. She seemed at loss for words. Who would’ve thought Kim, of all people, had kitchen skills. 

Kim shrugged, grinning. ‘I guess. I know a few things. Maman always got me to help out in the kitchen, you know? Most of it’s just throwing things together and seeing if they work.’

‘Oh….’

 ‘So, what do you guys want? It’s all on the house!’

‘What do you have?’ asked Adrien. 

‘This morning? Pretty much whatever you want. There’s eggs. Like, six different types of jam.  Toast. Croque madame, croque monsieur, jambon-beurre, soup…oh, and there’s still cake left over from last night. Just apple, though. Chocolate was a big hit. I’ll have to try making some later.' 

‘Oh, um…I – I guess I’ll have a…croque madame?’

‘Me too,’ Marinette said.

‘I’ll have the same,’ said Luka.

‘And – could you make…maybe six others?’ Adrien asked. ‘And we’ll take some cake, too.’ He turned to Marinette. ‘For Alya and Nino and the kids.’

She nodded, biting her lip. 

Kim clapped his hands together. ‘Alright! Nine croque madames and some cake coming right up!’ He hurried out the back. 

They waited awkwardly at the counter. Adrien shot another glance at Marinette, who looked troubled. And he understood why. How could something as mundane and normal as eating in a café already seem so…wrong? Just the previous morning, something like this would have been nothing to think twice about. Yet today….

He twisted around again. Juleka and Rose were sipping on drinks at their table. The kids at the other tables – a pair at one and a group of three at another – were smiling and eating. Everything seemed so normal…but it wasn’t. How could Kim and the others be so casual about it all? Didn’t he know how serious the situation was? 

As if reading his mind, Luka called over the counter, ‘Hey, how long do you think all that food back there will last?’

Kim was doing something with a large metal bowl and some eggs. Without taking his eyes off it, he answered. ‘Well, there’s loads of stuff back here. Heaps of flour and bread and eggs. The freezer room’s full too. And there’s all these boxes I haven’t opened yet. I need to do a full inventory to work it all out, but it’ll last weeks, for sure. Max is helping me figure out the calculations.’

Max raised his head at his name and gave a little wave before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. ‘There are several shops and other cafés and restaurants nearby, as well – not to mention the boulangeries, the patisseries, and so forth. Alix has just brought us some of what we need to keep us going for a while. Bottles of water, mostly.’

Alix looked up from a bag of groceries she was setting down. ‘Hell yeah, I did.’

‘The oven and stove work, and the lights,’ Max explained. ‘But the taps don’t have any water.’

‘What happens when the generator goes?’ Luka asked. 

Kim smiled. ‘You worry too much, my dude. We’ll get the electricity running again before that becomes a problem.’ He said this with such confidence that it was hard to doubt him.

‘You really think so?’ Marinette asked.

‘Oh yeah. Max here is going to sort it out.’

‘Well, I’m going to try to figure out the solution,’ Max said. ‘It’s a strange problem we have, here. It doesn’t make sense for the water and Wi-Fi to stop working. Even if all the adults have disappeared, the satellites should still work, and the taps should still run until the water from the source runs dry.’ He spoke like he wasn’t used to anything stumping him as much as this.

He didn’t know about the dome.

Adrien felt Marinette’s eyes on him, and he forced himself to become engrossed in a handwritten list of specials scrawled in chalk on one of the walls.

‘This will all be over soon enough, anyway,’ Alix said, ripping open one of the packs of water. ‘The adults outside Paris will realise what’s happened when they can’t get through to anyone on the phone or whatever, and they’ll come investigate and then save us.’

‘What if it isn’t just Paris, though?’ Luka said. ‘What if everyone has disappeared? Everyone in France? In Europe? The whole world? ’

What if the adults never come back? What if we’re truly on our own, now? Forever?

Alix, Kim and Max gaped at him.

Then Alix let out a dry laugh. ‘Nah. This’ll be over in a few days, trust me. Meanwhile, I’m gonna have some fun. No school, yeah! I’m gonna try to skate down the school steps later.’

‘But what about your dad? And Jalil?’ Marinette said.

Something flickered in Alix’s expression. Then she shrugged. ‘I’m sure they’re fine. Probably got teleported to a tropical beach or something. Dad must be freaking out about leaving the Louvre unattended, though.’

Kim returned to the counter, handing them three croque madames on plates. ‘I’ll make sure to give you the rest when you go.’

‘Thanks,’ they all said.

They sat at the table with Juleka and Rose, who scooted over to make room. Both of them looked uneasy. They’d clearly been listening to the conversation.

Luka’s forehead creased with his concerns. Maybe they’d been on his mind all night. In a low voice, he said, ‘I don’t think people are taking this as seriously as they should. We have no idea what’s happened. Or what might happen. I don’t think this is just Paris. I think it’s much bigger than us. Much bigger than all of us.’

Juleka placed a hand on her brother’s arm and mumbled something.

He nodded. ‘Exactly.’ He looked at Marinette, and then Adrien. ‘I think you have the right idea, going to find supplies. It might be sensible to stockpile.’

Stockpile? Adrien hadn’t considered what they were doing to be ‘stockpiling’, but…. 

‘…like it’s the apocalypse?’ Rose asked, her eyes darting around the room as if to check no one could hear them. The other kids seemed to be lost in their own conversations.

Luka gave her a long look.

Adrien looked down at his plate of food – focused on picking it up and taking a bite. It wasn’t just Max. None of their friends knew about the dome.

We need to tell them.

But how did you even start to explain something like that?

And what about…what about the powers he had? The powers the girl in the fire had, before she died?

And when had he started thinking of himself and Marinette as ‘we’?

‘You shouldn’t spread that apocalypse talk,’ Rose said, her voice quiet.

‘I just think we should be prepared for the worst,’ Luka reasoned.

‘You’re going to scare people. And they’re already scared enough. I’m scared enough.’ She looked down, her shoulders slumping.

Luka bit his lip. ‘I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean for that.’

‘I know. Just….’

Beside her, Juleka pressed her hand, and Rose leaned in towards her, touching heads.

Marinette cleared her throat. She hadn’t looked up from her plate since this conversation had begun. She gestured at the remains of her croque madame. ‘This is…good.’

Adrien nodded, eager to move things on. ‘Kim can cook.’

It did the trick. The tension broke, and their friends fell into discussion about the food, the mood lightening ever so slightly. But as they spoke, an idea niggled at the back of Adrien’s head – something about belief, and choosing what you wanted to be right, even if it wasn’t. He didn’t want Luka to be right. He wanted Kim and Alix to be.

Even though the dome meant they weren’t.

When they’d finished eating, Adrien, Marinette and Luka said their goodbyes to Rose and Juleka, then carried their plates to the counter and handed them over. ‘Are you going to wash them with the bottled water?’ Marinette asked.

Kim beamed at her, chest puffed up and chin held high. ‘Yep! We’re doing this properly. Kim’s Café will be the most hygienic café in all of Paris!’

This wasn’t hard to achieve when none of the other cafes were open.

He reached beneath the counter and brought out a large plastic bag. ‘Here’s the other croque madames – and the cake – plus a couple of baguette sandwiches too. We have heaps.’

Marinette blinked at the offering. ‘Thank you.’

‘Absolutely. Tell everyone, okay? Tell them: Kim’s Café.’

‘If we tell everyone, you’ll run out of food in a day,’ Luka said.

Kim shook his head. ‘I told you – I’ve got a plan.’ He tapped his temple.

That made one of them.

They headed back outside. The light was somehow dull despite how bright it was – and not because of the faint smoke. There was something dirty about it, like someone had covered the sun in a dusty film. 

There were more kids in the park now, and even more slowly trailing in. It seemed everyone had decided this was the collective meeting spot, even though no one knew what to do – except Kim, apparently.

‘Did you say you’re bringing that food back to Alya and Nino and some kids?’ Luka asked.

Marinette nodded.

‘I can take it to them, if you like – so you guys can get going.’

‘Oh. Th-thank you. Yes.’

‘Don't mention it.’ The fondness in Luka's eyes as he looked at Marinette said he would do just about anything for her. Did she see it, too? And why was Adrien's stomach flip-flopping? 

She handed Luka the bag of food. ‘They're at the daycare, just over there, past the bakery.’ She pointed down the street. 

He nodded. ‘Alright. I’ll…see you later?’

‘Well, it’s not like we’re going anywhere.’ She gave a nervous laugh, but it was hard not to notice the way she’d said ‘we’. She was thinking of them that way too. Again, there was a strange feeling in Adrien’s gut.

They stood a moment too long, not saying a word. Then Luka said, ‘Well…bye then.’ He gave a little wave and headed in the direction of the daycare.

Marinette let out a heavy sigh. ‘Was that awkward?’ she mumbled. ‘That was awkward.’

Adrien gave her a small smile. ‘It wasn’t that awkward.’ It was. ‘So…Manon's first?’ 

She sighed again. ‘Yeah.' 

They started walking down the street, keeping the park to their right. Marinette led the way, her gaze on her shoes, frowning like she was trying to work up the courage to say something. ‘It’s just…you know when you know someone likes you…I mean likes you…but you don’t like them back…? At least…not in that way….’

She didn’t like Luka back? Why did that make his heart flutter? He cleared his throat. ‘Um…to be honest, I’m not really…I haven’t really been in that position.’

‘Of course. Who wouldn’t like you?’ Her eyes widened and she clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘I mean…I mean….’

‘...you mean…?’

Her eyes darted like she was trying to figure out what she meant, too. Then she opened her mouth to say who even knew what – when a young girl came flying towards them, out of one of the park's side gates. Six or seven years old, maybe. She looked like she’d been crying. Her clothes were all wrinkled, her hair matted. She stopped a few steps in front of them, looking like she was on the verge of crying. 

Adrien exchanged a look with Marinette, and they approached the girl. 

‘Hey,’ Adrien said. ‘Are you okay?’

The girl shook her head, sniffling. ‘It's my brother,’ she said, her voice wobbling. 

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Marinette again. Was someone hurt? Or worse? 

‘He's at home,’ the girl continued tearfully. ‘He was sick.’

Marinette frowned. ‘O-oh. Is…is he feeling better now?’

‘I don't know. M-Maman always locks the door. B-but I don't have my own key yet. Maman says I can't have one until I'm t-ten.' 

It took a moment for Adrien to understand what the girl was trying to say – her brother had been at home, sick, when everyone disappeared. When any adult who might have been with him had disappeared. There was no one looking after him anymore.

He knelt down beside her, so they were at eye level. ‘Hey, it's okay.’ He gave her an encouraging smile, trying to ignore the awful feeling in his gut. ‘I’m sure your brother is fine.’ He hoped, anyway. ‘What’s your name?’ 

‘Josie.’

‘How old are you, Josie?’

‘Seven. But Denis is only two.’

His breath caught.

Two years old. 

There's no reason to think he isn’t okay. Not if he’s just been inside the house this whole time. It’s only been a day. 

Still, dread reached into his chest and closed its cold fist around his heart.

‘Where do you live?’ Marinette asked. Her voice was tight, like she was having similar thoughts.

‘Over there.’ Josie pointed beyond the park. ‘Next to Mrs Louise. But she’s g-gone.’  

As if of one mind, Adrien and Marinette both stood. He threw her a questioning look, and she nodded, agreement passing between them. Getting supplies would have to wait.

He looked back at Josie. ‘Can you show us the way?’

Josie nodded, rubbing at her eyes, and they followed her around the square. As they skirted the park, Adrien tried not to look in the direction of the two graves, or to think of all that space around them, waiting to be filled. 

Please, he begged – to whom, he didn’t know. God. The universe. Whoever’s practical joke all of this was. Please, don't let another child die.

Chapter Text

Marinette followed Josie with a heavy heart as the young girl led her and Adrien to an apartment building just a couple streets away from the park. It looked like any other block of apartments – this one five floors high, with pretty wrought-iron railings on balconies that no one stood on anymore. But inside was a little boy, just two years old. 

Another child in need of rescue.

Josie took them through the entranceway, mercifully an open breezeway, rather than one of those automated electronic doors found on fully contained apartments. Were there people in those buildings? Were they all locked inside, looking out the windows and considering whether it was worth risking the climb down?

Josie stopped at a door on the ground floor, then turned to them, her eyes round with worry. ‘It's locked.’

Those two words held all the fear she must have felt when she saw her own teacher disappear. The confusion as she stumbled through the chaos in the streets, until she found her way back home and realised she couldn't go inside, realised no one was answering. What had she done throughout the whole day as Marinette and Adrien travelled to the Tower and then Notre Dame? What had she eaten? Where had she slept?  

Marinette nibbled at her lip as she studied the door. Just how locked was it? Maybe it was one of those old kinds of doors that didn’t fully latch unless you used a key – where if you had a long enough stick or something, you could put it through the letterbox and use it to jimmy the lock from the inside.

She grabbed the door handle and pulled, praying it would jiggle. When it wouldn’t budge, she stepped away, trying not to think too hard on the defeated, desperate look on Josie’s face, and glanced at Adrien.

He held her eyes a moment, then approached the door, leaning on it and giving it a shove with his whole body weight. Predictably, this also did nothing. 

Her gaze went to his hands. He had the power to burn things. If he focused, he could easily destroy the door. He’d done it before, in his bedroom.

An image filled her mind – of him, sitting on her couch in the dark, staring at his hands as tears rolled down his face. He hated his ability. She couldn’t ask him to use it.

His eyes flickered to her, as if sensing her thoughts, and he hastily stuffed his hands in his pockets. She looked away, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

‘Let’s…try a window,’ he said.

Marinette nodded and followed him as he started walking a circuit around the small building, pressing on each window. But all of them were latched from the inside.

When they found themselves back on the street the building sat on, his expression hardened with resolve before he marched over the road to a café, where metal tables and chairs had been abandoned outside. She waited as he grabbed one of the chairs and carried it back.

It wouldn’t work. The windows were double or even triple glazed, like the ones at home. But she stood back to give him space, anyway, not wanting to smash his hope.

‘Keep back,’ he warned as he raised the chair into the air.

She put an arm around Josie’s shoulder and pulled her well away from the window, even though she didn’t expect anything to happen.

He slammed the chair against the window. The noise made Marinette jump, squeezing Josie. But the only damage was a tiny splinter across the glass where one of the chair legs had struck. He tried again – and again – and again – but there was still no useful damage. They were going to be here all day, at this rate, trying to get through two or three panes of toughened glass.

Still, he kept hitting the window, making animalistic noises of frustration. Something told her this wasn’t just about the window. And it wasn’t about that one little boy in there, either. It was about those children buried in the park, and everything else about the situation they’d found themselves in. Sometimes you needed to scream and hit things. So she let him.

With the next strike, he fell against the chair, propped up on the window. His chest heaved with exertion – and maybe emotion. She counted his breaths – one…two…three….

Slowly, he pulled away from the window and turned to her, letting the chair drop to the ground. In his eyes, she saw him form the same conclusion she had. There was only one way to get into that apartment. The fate of that little boy rested literally in his hands.

‘Marinette, could you…keep an eye on Josie here? I’m just going to…check around the corner one more time.’

‘...of course. Maybe we missed a window.’ They hadn’t, and they both knew it.

He held her eyes, understanding passing between them, then nodded before hurrying away where he could work his magic without an audience.

Josie was now crying softly.

Marinette knelt before her, hesitating before wiping away the tears with her thumbs. ‘Hey, shh…. It’ll be okay. My friend is going to find a way in, just you watch.’

‘But we tried every w-window!’

‘N-no, no, I really think we missed one. He’s going to find a way inside and we’re going to get your brother and everything’s going to be okay.’

It has to be. 

She didn’t know this girl. Under ordinary circumstances, she would maybe be a little less familiar. But right now, she was the closest thing to a reassuring adult this girl had, so she put her arms around her and pulled her close, into a deep hug, patting her back and smoothing down her messy hair. The girl’s arms went around her, like she’d been needing this. They were so tiny, it was heartbreaking.

There was a clicking sound. Marinette looked up just in time to see the front door opening, revealing Adrien. His expression was grim. It seemed to say, ‘I don’t like that I did that…but at least it’s done.’

She nodded at him, then drew back from the girl. ‘There, you see? What’d I tell you?’

Josie stared up at Adrien in shock, her tears drying and eyes enormous. ‘How…?’

His mouth tugged into a tiny smile. ‘We just didn’t push hard enough on one of the windows round the corner. Come on in. Let’s get your brother.’

She nodded and rushed past Marinette, past Adrien, into the apartment. ‘Denis!’ she cried. 

Marinette paused in the doorway, holding Adrien’s eyes. Her hand reached for him – then drew back. Then reached for him again, taking his hand and pressing it. ‘You had no choice.’

He sighed. ‘I know. Let’s…let’s find the boy and get out of here.’

She released him, and they hurried down a hallway, past several closed doors, until they found an open one. Inside the room, Josie sat next to a single bed, where a small figure lay, blankets up to his chin, eyes closed, pale and unmoving.

Josie gripped the sheets with two hands. ‘D-Denis,’ she said, her voice cracking.

Marinette’s vision narrowed, seeing only the boy, but in a blur. Her heart dropped and cold horror clutched her chest.

No, no, not again, no –

Then the boy moved – blinked open his eyes – let out a wail. The kind of sound people would huff and sigh at on the Metro, but right now the most beautiful music she’d ever heard. She exhaled sharply, her vision clearing, taking in the rest of the room. Her heart still beat madly in her chest. Beside her, Adrien’s face was pale but colouring again with relief. 

Still crying, Denis lifted his head, rubbing at his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. ‘Maman…Maman….’ His voice was weak.

Josie reached over and took his hand. ‘She’s not here, Denis. It’s me. It’s Josie.’

He cried harder, unsatisfied.

Marinette turned to Adrien. ‘What do we do now? We can’t – we can’t leave them here. He’s sick, and she’s….’

Seven years old. Just seven years old . Too young to be responsible for a toddler.

But I’m not old enough either. Not for so many kids.

A weight sank down on her shoulders, a weight that was becoming bitterly familiar – the weight of having to decide what happened. Why had this girl come to her and Adrien? Why not someone else? Didn’t they already have enough to deal with? 

‘Let's…make sure they’ve eaten something first, maybe,’ Adrien said. ‘Then we could…take them to…to the daycare? And go from there?’

She pressed her eyes shut and let out a breath, then opened them again. ‘Okay,’ she said quietly. What other choice did they have?

We could leave them. We’re not adults. This shouldn’t come down to us.

But as she watched the two children cry together…that wasn’t an option at all. And in her heart, she’d known it as soon as Josie had approached them. Known they were taking on more. Adrien had probably known it, too.

Feeling as though her legs weren’t quite her own, she moved over to the bed and crouched down beside Josie. ‘Hey.’ She gave the boy a faint smile. She’d never felt so inadequate. ‘Denis, right?’

He nodded, lip wobbling.

‘I’m Marinette, and this is Adrien.’ She indicated behind her. ‘I’m just going to feel your forehead for a second. Is that okay?’

He nodded again, his eyes droopy. 

She hesitated, then flattened her hand on his forehead. He was hot . She withdrew her hand and flashed Adrien a meaningful look.

He pursed his lips in concern.

Then they both plastered smiles on their faces, for the children.

‘How about we get you guys some breakfast?’ she suggested.

‘Biscuits,’ said Denis tearfully, rubbing at his flushed cheeks.

‘He likes the normal ones,’ Josie said, her voice wobbling. ‘But I like the chocolate ones more. They’re in the kitchen.’

‘Right. Then let’s go get some.’ Again, she paused, unsure whether she should pick Denis up. He was a little too old to do so without asking him.

Josie solved the problem by taking his hand and helping him out of the bed.

Marinette and Adrien followed the two siblings out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Josie showed them where the biscuits were kept, and they settled the children at the dining room table. It was weird, just sitting here in a stranger’s home, eating their food with their young children. But if they were her kids, she’d be grateful to know someone was with them. She had to hold onto that.

She imagined their parents suddenly popping back. Their relief upon seeing that Josie and Denis were okay – that they’d been looked after.

When her parents popped back from wherever they were…because they would, they would come back, they had to …what would they say? 

Against her will, her mind conjured up an image of a mother screaming as she appeared back on the Tower and realised the baby she’d been holding was gone. She stifled a strangled cry and pressed her fist to her mouth. She couldn’t break down right now. Not in front of the children.

Adrien was staring through the doorway, lost in thought. Without a word, he stood from the table and left the room, his footsteps padding down the hallway.

‘I want water,’ Denis said.

Water was one thing she couldn’t easily get him. Not until they did their supply run – or she took him to Kim’s Cafe. They hadn’t packed any that morning, figuring they’d find some along the way when they got thirsty. ‘Sorry, Denis. The water’s broken. But I know a place where you can get some. You’ll have to come on a little walk with us, though.’

Denis looked to his sister for guidance. It was only natural. His parents were missing and here was this stranger inviting him to leave his house to find water. How was he meant to understand why the water wasn’t running? She hardly understood it herself.

‘It’s okay,’ Josie told him. ‘They’re nice.’

‘Marinette,’ came Adrien’s voice, back in the doorway.

She looked up at him. He had his hands behind his back, like he was up to something. ‘Y-yes?’

‘Could I…borrow you for a moment?’

She glanced back at the kids. ‘You going to be okay on your own for just a minute?’

Denis looked troubled, but Josie nodded. ‘I’ll look after him,’ she said, her expression proud.

Marinette threw her a grateful smile, then joined Adrien in the hallway. ‘What is it?’

He held up two backpacks. ‘I may have done some snooping. I thought we could fill these with whatever food or supplies we find in the apartment.’

Her mind pulled in two directions. He’d gone rummaging through someone’s personal belongings without their knowledge. But…it was a good idea. ‘We should check the medicine cabinets. See if there’s anything for Denis.’

‘Good thinking.’ He handed her one of the bags. ‘How about I do that and you do the kitchen? Teamwork, right?’

She nodded. ‘Teamwork.’

He left for the bathroom, while she went to the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the framed family photos hanging from the walls. On the fridge, a displayed photo of Josie, Denis and a man and a woman who could only be their parents, smiled at her – watching her as she explored their home.

The hairs on her neck stood up, still anticipating the parents returning at any moment, asking just what the hell she thought she was doing. But she would’ve taken it. Anything other than what was actually happening.

With a deep breath, she started rifling through the kitchen, throwing anything of value into the bag. There wasn’t room for all of it, so she had to use discretion. Then she turned and there was Adrien, holding open his bag, only part-full, for her to stuff in more. She peered in, to see what he’d packed. Some tiny clothing that had to belong to Denis, a toy, a book, and a bottle of children’s medicine stuffed in an outside pocket.

She filled it to the top. Then he held the bags firm while she shoved and yanked until they zipped shut. With the job done, they shared a look. It wasn’t a huge victory, but it felt like one.

When they returned to the dining room, the kids had finished eating. Denis had his head on the table, weary from illness.

‘What’s in the bags?’ Josie asked.

‘Food,’ said Marinette.

‘And medicine,’ said Adrien. ‘In fact….’ He pulled out the bottle they’d kept in one of the side pockets and twisted the lid. ‘Denis, let’s get this down you.’

‘And Josie, you should pack a bag too. Clothes, and whatever’s important to you, that kind of thing.’

Josie’s lower lip wobbled. ‘Does that mean we’re not coming back?’

Marinette put up her hands. ‘No, no. We’re just…going on a little trip. And you have to pack for…trips.’

Children weren’t stupid. Neither Josie nor little Denis looked convinced. But Josie slipped off her seat and left the room anyway, while Adrien administered the medicine.

When Josie returned, she wore her own backpack. Adrien and Marinette both put on the bags they’d packed on their fronts, as they were already carrying their own backpacks on their backs, then looked at Denis.

Instinct made Marinette reach for the boy, but Adrien was already picking him up. ‘You did enough of this after the Tower,’ he said.

‘Th-thank you.’

The Tower . Where they’d rescued still other kids. There were so many of them – and this wouldn’t be all of them. How many more were out there, trapped at home, afraid to leave and seek help?

How many babies had – had been – when their parents – 

Terrible images filled her head, making her breath catch and her vision blur. When she glanced at Adrien, something about the way his eyes darkened told her he was having similar thoughts.

At the front door was a rack of shoes, one pair obviously the boy’s. Adrien knelt and slid Denis’ feet into them. Then they headed out of the apartment, stepping back into the sunlight. Denis whimpered in Adrien’s arms, hiding his face in his jacket and shivering, from the fever or from the chill air…or both. 

‘So…the daycare?’ Adrien asked. 

Marinette shifted, adjusting the weight of both backpacks on her and gripping Josie’s hand. There was no practical reason for it. There were no cars to run into, and it was unlikely anyone would kidnap her, but…she wasn’t ready to let go of these little conventions. Wasn’t ready to admit they no longer served a purpose. ‘The daycare,’ she agreed. 

Where the children could become someone else’s responsibility. 

Chapter Text

Marinette held Josie tightly as they made their way back the way they'd come, past piled up cars, past the park, where more and more kids were gathering. 

It was no longer as quiet as it had been earlier in the morning, but there was still nowhere near the amount of noise there should’ve been on a busy weekday. No rumbling car engines or impatient horns. No background chatter as thousands of people bustled around, heading to work or school. No wind rustling the trees. Just the distant, faded sound of people talking in the park. 

‘What happened to the window in my bedroom?’ Josie interrupted the quiet.

Adrien tripped over his feet, before resuming his steps, glancing at Marinette. ‘It…broke when I…when I…I broke it to get in.’

‘But you couldn’t break the windows.’

‘Yeah, um…I could break that one, though. Isn’t that lucky?’ He gave a weak laugh.

‘But there wasn’t any glass on the floor.’

‘I…cleaned it up.’

‘Health and safety,’ Marinette added.

He threw her a grateful look.

Josie grew thoughtful but didn’t comment further.

The daycare was only a few doors down from the Dupain-Cheng bakery, in one of the buildings bordering the park. The building had been divided in two. One section was a crèche, for infants and toddlers, and the other, next door, was an école maternelle, for three-to-five-year-olds. Marinette had gone there as a toddler, as had Nino, Max, Alix and Rose. But other than walking past on occasion, she hadn’t stepped inside since she’d started primary school. Mrs Curie had been her favourite teacher. Maybe she still worked there. 

At least…until yesterday. Because she wouldn’t be there today. No adult would. 

The front door opened up into the reception area. Immediately, her ears were hit with the muffled sounds of children talking and babies crying, and her heart was hit with a wave of nostalgia. In her mind, she could see the vibrant primary colours all over the walls and the enormous number and alphabet charts, written in oversized, child-friendly fonts. Longing pulled at her heart; longing for the days when she was little and no one expected her to be responsible.

No one was at the reception desk, of course, so they saw themselves through, setting off down a corridor until they ended up at the main playroom, stopping in the doorway. Marinette’s eyes widened, trying to take in what she was seeing. The room was huge – but it didn’t really look it when it was so stuffed with kids. Toddlers were crawling around on brightly coloured foam mats, while babies had been secured in travel cot playpens, some giggling as they chased after rattly toys. Older kids sat on rugs, stacking blocks and playing games together. 

Nino was in a corner kneeling before a sobbing child who might have been four or five.

‘...Marinette? Adrien?’ Alya appeared from a doorway across the room. In her arms she held a baby, who she was feeding using a bottle. She quickly approached them. ‘I thought you guys were going to Manon’s.’

‘We – we got sidetracked.’ Marinette indicated Josie, who was gripping her hand tightly – and Denis, in Adrien’s arms.

Alya blinked at them both. Maybe thinking, More kids….

Obviously sharing the same sentiments, Adrien said quietly, ‘There’s…there’s so many kids.’

‘Don’t I know it!’ Alya let out a flat laugh. ‘They don’t even all speak French. The ones you brought back from the Tower?’ She let out a sigh of exhaustion and repositioned the baby, who couldn't be any older than six months old, in her arms. 

‘How many are there?’ Marinette asked, dreading the answer. 

‘Nino and I counted, this morning. Including some of the kids from the Tower…there’s thirty-two toddlers – fourteen babies – and then you know the école maternelle next door? There were kids in there when we arrived. Their teachers just blinked out, parents didn’t show up, and they slept here because they didn’t know what else to do.’

A pang shot through Marinette's chest. ‘Oh….' 

‘Yeah. I think Nino said there’s three classes? So…with the Tower kids….about fifty, in total. Oh…and some older kids wandered in as well. There's an eight-year-old who came looking for his sister, and a twelve-year-old who came to get her little cousin.' 

Marinette’s head spun with numbers, unable to fully grasp what they were dealing with even as she understood that it was too much, just too much. 

Fourteen babies…thirty-two toddlers…fifty kids…almost a hundred in total…. 

At her side, Josie tugged at her hand, bringing her back to the room. ‘Can I go play?’

Marinette glanced at Alya. Could she really dump yet more on her?

But Alya gave her a faint smile. ‘Sure. You go play, girl.’

Josie gave Marinette one last hesitant look, then released her hand and joined some of the kids closest to her age. 

‘Did Luka turn up?’ Adrien asked as he ran his hand up and down Denis’ back in a soothing motion. 

Alya nodded. ‘He’s in the upstairs apartment, with Chris, Ella, Etta and…Manon. Thanks for sending the food over. I mean…it didn’t stretch very far but….’ She glanced over her shoulder, at all the kids.

‘How are you doing for supplies here?’ Adrien asked.

‘Well, when we first got here, we realised the priority was feeding everyone. This place has two kitchens, so we raided those. Oh - and the building has solar panels, so we have some power and can actually cook things. And there’s still water in the taps, but…I don't know how long it’ll last.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ll be honest…. I…I don't know what we’re going to do. It’s been, what, a day? And we’ve already gone through all the nappies and all the food and almost all the formula.’

Adrien gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘That’s…wow.’

‘But…' Alya hesitated, before continuing, '...you guys were going on a supply run…weren't you?’ 

Marinette exchanged a look with Adrien. Alya's unspoken question was clear. 

He let out a heavy breath. ‘Yeah…' He began ticking off items on his fingers. ‘Okay, so…you need…more water. Nappies.’

‘Baby food,’ Marinette said. ‘And formula. And baby wipes.’

‘Those would be good for cleaning all of us,’ Adrien said. ‘And I guess we should also get some food in general, for the older kids?’

She nodded. 

Even though she’d been the one to ask, Alya’s eyes were large. ‘You…you guys really…you'd really bring all that here?’

Marinette gave a tiny shrug. ‘You need it.’ As if doing nothing was an option. Though she really wasn’t sure how she and Adrien would be able to bring so many things back, when there were only two of them. Maybe in supermarket trolleys, like Alix had done that morning…. 

‘You and Nino are doing all of this. ’ Adrien gestured around the room, at all the children. ‘The least we can do is get you some things.’

Alya looked like she would’ve thrown her arms around the two of them, had she not been holding a baby. Still, she stepped forwards and wrapped the arm holding the bottle around Marinette, squeezing her tightly. When she spoke into Marinette's shoulder, her voice was thick. ‘Thank you.’

The baby between them wriggled in Alya’s arms, letting out a noise of protest at the sudden lack of milk, and Alya pulled away. ‘Are you going to leave him here?’ She nodded at Denis. 

‘I….’ Adrien looked down at the boy in his arms. ‘I guess so.’ He angled his head to look at Denis’ hot, red face. He seemed hesitant to let him go. Maybe because this was one child they’d managed to save. 

Alya’s expression was warm with sympathy, like she understood what was passing through his heart. ‘You can pass him to Nino over there.’ 

‘...okay. Marinette…?’

She swallowed. ‘I’m just going to go check on Manon, and then we should get on with…our mission.’ The word was meant as a joke but…maybe it wasn’t.

He smiled thinly, then nodded and headed over to Nino, who seemed to have got the crying child under control.

‘You okay?’ Alya asked Marinette, when they were alone.

Marinette heaved out a breath. ‘No…not really.’

‘Me neither. Who is?’ Alya huffed out a silent laugh. ‘But hey – it looks like you’re getting that time you always wanted with Adrien, right?’ She gave her a small smile that was a painful remnant of a reality that was no longer their own. 

‘I definitely would’ve wished for better circumstances, but…yeah.’ She glanced across the room at him, where he was talking to Nino, both their faces serious. ‘I’d…better go check on Manon, now.’

Alya nodded and pointed to a doorway across the room. ‘Second floor, first door on the right.’

‘Thanks.’ Marinette took a breath and weaved a path through the children – so many children – then followed Alya’s directions.

The door to the apartment stood open. Through it, she could hear Luka’s guitar and Chris and the twins singing. She hovered in the doorway, watching as Luka sat on a chair playing, the other four in a semicircle around him on the living room floor.

When the song finished, she clapped, stepping into the apartment. 

Luka did a double take at his audience before smiling at her. ‘Hey, Marinette.’

‘Hi, Marinette!’ Ella and Etta chorused. 

‘Hey. I just wanted to check on Manon, before Adrien and I head off to get supplies.'

Luka nodded. ‘I think she’s doing fine. Aren’t you, Manon?’

The little girl didn’t reply from her position on the floor beside a couch. Didn’t look up. She was staring at her game console. But she didn’t appear distressed in any way, so that was…good. One less thing to worry about. 

Marinette turned back to Luka. ‘Are you…going to stay here?’

He cast a look at the kids, then set down his guitar, addressing them. ‘Do you guys mind if I go talk to Marinette for a sec? Then I’ll play a few more songs.’

‘Jagged Stone again!’ Ella enthused.

Luka smiled. ‘You got it.’ He stood and indicated for Marinette to follow him out of the room, back into the stairwell. He closed the door behind them, confirming that this was ‘adult business’...even though they weren’t adults at all.

They stood awkwardly, facing one another. His hair was flat in funny places, having slept on it and not been able to wash it or style it like he usually did. The sight made her touch her own hair, feeling for the mess she must be. What had Adrien been looking at all day? Maybe there were bigger concerns but…it felt good to think about something as silly as hair, even if only for a moment.

‘You really –’ she started to say.

At the same time that, he said, ‘I hadn’t realised –’

They both froze, then laughed awkwardly and shook their heads.

‘You first,’ he said.

‘Um. Okay, just…you really have a way with the…with the kids.’

‘…thanks.’ He was looking at her the way he did when he was about to say something nice about her. Like about how she was a melody playing on his mind all night, or something. Something she really wasn’t in the mood to hear, right now.

‘What were you going to say?’ she asked.

‘Oh…just that…coming to the daycare made me realise just how many kids are out there. Not just the ones here, but…kids who may be trapped in houses and cars. Stuck there when their parents…left.' 

A painful lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed. ‘We…I mean, Adrien and I….’ She tried to ignore the way Luka’s eyes flickered at the casual way she’d referred to them as we. ‘There was this girl, and she was crying, and she led us to her house and told us her little brother was inside. We had to break in. Then we brought them here. But…you're right. They…they won’t be the only ones. There must be so many more in the same situation, alone and scared and maybe even hurt…. ’ Her stomach turned with sickness.

Luka nodded. ‘We need to do something for them.’

‘Like…what?’ Please don’t ask me to do it, please.  

‘I was thinking of asking for volunteers – getting some people together, to search cars and apartments.’

‘...volunteers?’

‘Not you, of course. You’re already busy with…Adrien. But…others? I was thinking I'd go down to the park and talk to people. Get something going. The longer we wait….' he trailed off, his words heavy. 

She cleared the emotion filling her throat, trying not to see the awful images now fighting their way to the forefront of her mind. ‘That's…a really good idea, Luka.’ 

‘I’m glad you think so.’ Something about the way he said this made it sound like he’d been asking her permission. But who was she to give that? It wasn’t like she was in charge.

‘I’d, um…I’d better say goodbye to Manon and then…go join Adrien.’

He held her eyes a moment, then nodded and opened the door for her. She gave him a wan smile, then went back into the apartment, where she crouched down beside Manon.

‘Hey, Manon,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving, now, but I’ll be back later, okay? You can just stay up here with Ella and Etta and Chris.’

The little girl didn’t look up, didn’t so much as register her presence. Marinette’s heart constricted. Was it really okay to leave her here? Of course she trusted Alya and Nino. But they had so many kids on their hands downstairs. They couldn’t possibly give any one child all the attention they needed.

And what happened if Manon had one of her episodes?

But the only other option was to take her with them, and that would just slow things down. Not to mention, Marinette needed time without kids. Even if it was only an hour . 

‘Okay, Manon…you just keep playing your game and being a good girl.’ She gave her a pat on the shoulder, then stood on shaky legs, bidding farewell to the others, before heading back downstairs.

Adrien was standing at the far end of the room, beside a row of cubby holes, Josie beside him. As Marinette approached, he handed Josie the backpack he’d packed at her house and said something to her. 

‘Hey,’ Marinette said, stopping beside them.

Adrien nodded at her, but finished what he was saying to Josie. ‘Alya and Nino are really good people. They’ll look after you.’

‘And I'll look after Denis,’ Josie said – proudly, like she was excited to be the big one with the responsibility. She didn't look as scared anymore, like she had before. Maybe being here, with so many other kids, was reassuring in its normality. 

‘That’s right, Josie,’ Adrien said with an encouraging smile. ‘We’ll check on you later, too.’

She smiled back. ‘Okay. Bye, Adrien. Bye, Marinette.’

Marinette gave a faint wave as the little girl rushed back to her new friends, backpack in her arms.

Adrien let out a sigh, like he was letting out all the difficult emotions he’d been hiding for the sake of the children. He stared down at his empty arms like there was something missing. As eager as Marinette had been to drop off the kids, it seemed Adrien was having a hard time letting them go.

‘We should get going,’ she said, her voice soft.

‘Yeah…. It just feels strange, dropping off a sick baby and then…leaving.’

‘I know what you mean. I feel the same way about leaving Manon behind, but…I guess we don’t have any other options.’

He chewed at his lip. ‘You’re right. And it’s not like we’re off to have a party. We’re going to help them.’ He balled his hands into fists of determination. ‘Okay. Let’s get going.’

She nodded, and together, they headed towards the exit. She paused and threw one last look at all those kids…then followed Adrien down the hallway and out onto the street. 

Luka. Luka will sort it out. 

All they had to do was go get supplies.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the sort of thing Adrien wanted to admit out loud…but it was a relief to be back to just him and Marinette, child-free again. Which was a strange thought to have in the first place. Like they were some sort of married couple who’d just dropped off the kids with a babysitter and now finally had some time to themselves. 

Except they were fourteen. They weren’t even dating. And the kids weren’t theirs.

‘So…where do you think we should try?’ he asked as they stood outside the daycare.

‘Well…there’s a Monoprix on Rue Saint-Antoine,’ Marinette said, looking down at her feet. ‘That’ll have basic supplies. And there are other stores around there, pharmacies, that sort of thing, which…should have what we need.’

He nodded. ‘Rue Saint-Antoine it is, then.’ 

They started walking around the park, past the fancy shops and cafés that no longer had any customers. The doors stood wide open, trusting a slurry of children to respect rules on a kind of honour system. At least it was unlikely that kids would think to raid a posh tea shop. Then again…you never really knew.

They hit the end of the road leading away from the park, then hooked a right, onto Rue Saint-Antoine, passing shoe shops, clothing shops, photo centres, cosmetics boutiques…reminder after reminder of what life was like only a day ago. Only…cars had careened into each other, in a pile-up in the middle of the road. And a lone bus had crashed right through the front of a florists. Part of the building had burned, and flower petals covered the front of the bus, like it had been decorated for a wedding at the end of the world.

When the adults returned, what would they make of it? What would they make of Kim’s Café, taking all that food with no one’s permission? What would they make of him and Marinette pilfering things in Josie and Denis’s apartment? Or the theft they were about to commit now? Probably they’d be grateful – relieved that someone was taking care of the younger children. But maybe they’d also feel a little unsettled by the idea of strangers rummaging through their home, handling their kids.

And breaking their windows.

He glanced at his hands. They had begun trembling without him realising. Already, he could feel the power vibrating in them again. Could imagine the black rising off them, scintillating with destructive energy.

‘Adrien?’

He quickly clasped his hands, steadying them. ‘Y-yes?’

‘You okay?’

He swallowed. ‘I, uh.’ His instinct was to…not lie exactly, but make up an excuse.

Okay, that was a little like lying. Which he’d never been good at. And this was Marinette. Just last night, he’d shared with her what he’d done – shared his deepest, most hateful secret – and she’d accepted him. At last, he had someone he could talk to.

‘I was thinking about when I…when I broke that window earlier,’ he confessed.

The look on her face told him she’d already worked this out. ‘How…how did you do that, anyway? Does this mean you can focus your ability?’

Ability. She made it sound like it was a good thing. And maybe it had come in handy today, but…. ‘No. I was…trying, but…it just wouldn’t come. I stood at the back, staring at the window thinking, Come on, hands! Do your thing! And just…nothing. But then….’

This was the part he didn’t like sharing. The part that made him sound out of control, maybe even crazy. Definitely dangerous.

‘It made you angry, didn’t it.’ She wasn’t asking a question. She understood.

‘…yeah.’

‘I thought so. I…saw how you got over the chair.’

His face twisted. ‘I’m – I’m sorry. I guess you’re…not really seeing me at my best, here.’

Despite everything, she gave him a faint smile. ‘I don’t think any of us are at our best, right now. But…you don’t have to feel ashamed or embarrassed over being frustrated at not being able to save a sick child. You had good reason to be so stressed out.’

There she was, doing it again. Accepting him. Accepting his anger. If his father had witnessed that scene, he definitely would’ve had words to say.

But my father isn’t here.

Relief flushed through him, followed by a guilty pang in his heart.

‘So…it’s the anger that – that made your power come out?’ she asked.

‘Y-yeah. I was…well, I’d worked myself up into a state and I…I punched the wall in frustration, and then my fist just started…glowing, and I felt…I felt hot all over…with energy…and I slammed my hand against the window before I could lose the feeling.’

She was nodding, processing his story. ‘You’re a hero, you know.’ Her voice was gentle.

‘I…no.’ He wrapped his arms around himself, hiding his hands.

‘You are. You saved a child, there. If only we could…focus your power, you know? So you feel more in control of it and can always use it for good – like you did today.’

He blinked at her. She was talking about turning his murderous hands into an asset. And saying we, like it was a given that they were in this together.

She stopped walking, and he halted too, looking up at the Monoprix. After all her confidence about his predicament, now she was pressing her forefingers together like she was uncomfortable about something. Or nervous.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘…yeah, it’s just…this is weird, isn’t it? Just walking into a shop and scouring the shelves and taking things without paying.’

‘Yes, but….’ He twisted to glance again at the street, at the cars with their crumpled up hoods and the frames half melted away, blackened from fires that had thankfully died down. ‘Is it any weirder than that?’

She cast a look at the road herself, then bit her lip. ‘I guess you're right.’ She took a long breath. ‘Okay. Let’s get this done.’

Thankfully, the entrance door was manual, so his power wasn’t needed again. He followed her into the shop, half expecting to see people in there. Instead, there were heaps of groceries abandoned at the checkout stations and bags of shopping dropped at the exit doors nearby. Without electricity, it was dark, too. Not quite enough to need a torch, but almost. It really did look like something straight out of an apocalypse film. 

Noticing the way Marinette had paled, he grabbed two empty trolleys by the entrance and nudged her with his shoulder. ‘Hey. Let’s go shopping.’

In a strange way, it was almost exciting. He’d never actually gone grocery shopping before.

She nodded slowly, taking one of the trolleys, and they started moving. In the aisles, there were half-filled trolleys left standing, and baskets dropped on the floor, their contents spilled all over. Tins had rolled to unpredictable destinations.

‘This is somehow even creepier than the streets,’ Marinette said – whispered, for no reason. Maybe just because it was too quiet. Unnaturally so. And the further they ventured into the store, away from the windows, the darker it grew.

‘It is,’ he said, making a point of keeping his voice at a normal volume, giving them both permission to speak freely. ‘So, what kinds of things do we need, again?’

They ran through the list together. She seemed much better when in planning mode, focusing on practical matters, so he let her take the lead. After all, he knew almost nothing about babies. Before yesterday, he’d never so much as held one. They loaded the trolleys with packs of bottled water, pouches of baby food and other purees, bread and spreads for sandwiches, and tins and tins of formula for all ages.

‘What if one of the kids is allergic to cow milk?’ Marinette said. ‘I’m throwing in some goat milk formula, just in case.’

‘You really think of everything,’ he said. 

Her cheeks pinked and she scanned through the other baby items. ‘Maybe some non-food items?’ She started dumping dummies, toys, bottles, and some blankets into the trolleys, which were already very full.

‘And nappies,’ he said. One of the most important things.

‘Right. Nappies.’ They wheeled around to the display of nappies, faced with a wall of plastic packs labelled with all different sizes. Except….

‘I thought maybe the sizes would be in terms of…age or something,’ he admitted.

‘Yeah…h-how are we supposed to know how many kilos all those different kids weigh?’ Her voice had grown strained. ‘I mean, if this were a day ago, I’d have just pulled out my phone and looked up how many kilos the average one-year-old like August weighs, but….’

There was no phone reception. No internet. No one to give them any guidance on this.

‘Maybe it’s not that big a deal,’ he said. Surely, as long as it fit well enough…. 

‘No, it is a big deal. I – I remember when Manon was little. If we get the wrong size, everything will leak everywhere and we may as well not even bother with nappies. We have to get this right, Adrien.’ At some point, her chest had started rising and falling fast.

‘Okay, I worded that wrong. I just mean….’ What did he mean? I was just saying words to make you feel better. I don’t really know what I’m doing. Probably not the best thing to admit right now. ‘What if we just…take one of everything? And…piles and piles of baby wipes and nappy sacks and...hey, you okay?’

She’d started crying.

He ditched the trolley and stepped in front of her, looking into her eyes, the colour of bluebells in spring, and –

Where had that thought come from?

His hands moved to hold her shoulders, then stopped, hanging inadequately in the air between them. ‘Marinette, it’ll –’

‘Don’t say it’ll be okay,’ she bit out through tears.

He closed his mouth – opened it again – closed it – then sighed. His hands might hold magic, but he’d never felt so powerless. If only he’d been granted a useful ability, like the power to take away Marinette’s pain. But there was nothing he could do to fix things. He couldn’t bring everyone back.

‘You’re right. I – I don’t know if it’ll be okay or not. But…look, I’m here…okay? I don’t know if that means anything at all or if it helps anything but…if we get this wrong, we get it wrong together.’ 

She continued to cry, and he let her, just like she’d let him huff and puff and smash that chair against the window even though they’d both known it would never work. He looked away, at the contents of his trolley, to give her space.

When he heard the tears slow, he peered at her again.

She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and swallowed down the emotions…for now. ‘Okay,’ she said, her voice clearer but still wobbly. ‘We take one of every size.’

‘And then we just see what works and what doesn’t.’ Like everything else they were doing.

She nodded and started throwing nappy packs and wipes and sacks into the trolleys. By now, they were heaped high, the contents in danger of spilling out onto the floor.

‘I guess that’ll have to do,’ she said.

‘We can come back for more later. And go to some of the other shops. It’s not like they’re going to disappear.’ Like the adults had.

‘…y-yeah.’

They wheeled the trolleys towards the exit, where she paused, glancing at the checkouts they were bypassing. They had to have at least €400 worth of stuff in their trolleys, and they were just…walking out with them. They carried on through the doors, and he could see her bracing her shoulders to hear the theft alarm sing out. But there was only the continued silence that had swallowed up central Paris.

Thankfully the trolleys hadn’t been equipped with anti-theft devices, so they could wheel them out onto the road, heading back the way they’d come, weaving the trolleys between the cars. 

As they passed the vehicles, an awful thought came to him, and he stopped walking. ‘Hey, do you think maybe…there are people inside any of the cars?’

She stopped too. Maybe trying not to imagine kids trapped in unmanned vehicles, crying out for help since the Poof a full day ago. ‘Before…at the daycare…I was talking to Luka and he…he said something similar. That there must be lots of kids out there. Not just the kids from the Tower, or Josie and Denis, but… other kids also trapped in apartments and cars.' 

Adrien swallowed down an evil thought – that they could just walk on. They already had enough to deal with, as it was. But what if it were him trapped, frightened? No, he couldn’t turn a blind eye.

He left the trolley where it was and stepped up to the closest car, bracing himself as he peered through the rear window, and releasing a heavy breath when he saw that the interior was empty. He turned to Marinette and gave her a nod. 

As they continued down the street, pushing the trolleys, they made sure to check every car they passed. They didn't find any stranded passengers. Or any dead bodies. But this was just one street – one section of one street. His gaze travelled down the road, stretching at least half a kilometre ahead of them, taking in all the buildings that lined it, and all the others that lay beyond. How many kids were stuck in those? The only way to know would be to check every single one. 

‘Luka said he’s…going to organise a group,’ Marinette said. ‘To search for kids who need help.’ They took the next left, onto the street that took them to the park, pausing in front of another car before carrying on. 

‘That's good.’ Especially because it would be Luka this time, not them.

The park was busier than it had been earlier in the morning. More and more people seemed to be gathering. Maybe Luka was already getting to work. But they didn’t stop to take a closer look, continuing on towards the daycare, where they helped each other shove the overloaded trolleys through the doors and down the hall.

Alya was across the large room, tending to some of the kids, but looked up at the noise as they made their appearance. She said something to the kids, maybe 'be right back ,’ then hurried over to them, her eyes large. ‘Wow. Guys, this is….’

‘Not much, we know,’ Adrien said. ‘We’ll go get more now. This was just…the first lot.’

Somehow, her eyes grew even larger. ‘That’s not…. You don’t have to. This is…I mean…it’ll last.’ 

‘For how long, though?’ Marinette said. 

Alya hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe…a few days? But that’s really all we need, right? I mean, this – the adults will come back, soon. We just need to last for a few days.’

Adrien and Marinette shared a look.

‘Y-yeah,’ Adrien said. ‘Still…if you let us know where you want everything, we’ll unload this and then go get more…just in case.’

‘Oh, if you’re…if you’re sure,’ Alya said. ‘There's a dining hall and kitchen next door, in the école maternelle. It’s just back down the hallway, through the sliding doors. You guys can leave it there and I’ll just…I’ll sort through it later.' 

Marinette nodded, then started pushing her trolley back the way they’d come. Adrien followed. 

Just a few more days.

The adults will come back soon.

The lump of doubt and guilt was thick in his throat.

Chapter Text

Luka grimaced as the supermarket trolley whizzed past on the road. The boy riding it hollered at his friends, who cheered him on from the sidewalk.

With a heavy sigh, Luka approached them. ‘Hey, guys, stop it. That’s really dangerous, and in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little short on doctors right now.’

One of the boys stuck up his middle finger, before the group hurried down the road to catch up with the one on the trolley. None of them looked older than eleven.

Sabrina joined Luka, staring after the boys. ‘How stupid are they?’

He shook his head in resignation. ‘I guess I shouldn’t have expected to be able to reason with them. After all, they just witnessed every adult in their life disappear.’

‘So did we.’

‘Yeah, but….’ He sighed. ‘Look, no adults means no one around to enforce the rules. No officer is going to step out of a police vehicle and arrest them for being a public nuisance. No mother’s going to tell them off for crashing into a parked car and causing thousands in damages.’

She winced, especially at the word ‘officer’. Too late, he remembered her father was part of the police force. He opened his mouth to apologise, but she cut him off.

‘So, for most of them…this is all just one big party?’

‘...pretty much. Especially now that a lot of the initial shock of the first day has passed. It’s like a game.’

‘Well, I’m already tired of playing it.’ She crossed her arms, her tone petulant.

He understood – just like he understood what was going on in the heads of those boys, still shouting and laughing down the road. All of this was just a way to cope with the horror and disbelief of what had happened. How could one even begin to process the fact that everybody over fifteen years of age had vanished, instantaneously, without warning? It was easier to have fun. He didn’t want to think about it any more than those kids did. He wanted to go home and fiddle around with his guitar. 

But he couldn't.

He glanced at Sabrina – maybe not his first choice, but hey, she was here when she didn’t have to be. He’d managed to gather a few people in the park – friends, Marinette’s classmates. For the most part, his calls for other volunteers had fallen on deaf ears. Almost no one who didn’t already know him had been interested. Kids were gathering in the park, but with no plan, only doing it because that’s what everyone else was doing.

He’d paired up the handful of volunteers, so they could cover more ground, partnering himself with Sabrina. He didn’t really know her, only that she went to Françoise Dupont and usually followed Chloe around. No one else had wanted to be with her. And no one had seen Chloe since the Poof had happened. Sabrina was probably feeling a little lost without her.

‘Come on.’ He gestured at her. ‘We have a job to do.’

She sighed. ‘So we’re just knocking on doors and windows and checking the cars?’

‘That’s about it, yeah.’

‘Okay.’ They started down the road, Luka taking the left side and Sabrina taking the right.

They didn’t speak as they worked. Each time Luka approached a new car, his breath caught in anticipation of finding someone trapped in there – someone who might no longer be alive. Every apartment or shop door or window he tried, he braced himself for cries for help…or maybe the silence of the dead.

This was probably harder for Sabrina, who hadn’t recently buried two young bodies. But surely he’d reached his quota. He’d already had his fill of death, thank you.

As they moved onto the next street, he asked, ‘What made you volunteer for this?’

She shrugged as she looked through another car window a few metres away. ‘When the adults come back, I want Daddy to be proud of me. I want him to know I did what I could to serve my community, just like he’s always taught me.’

Guilt flashed in his heart. That was…more depth than he’d given her credit for.

Poor Sabrina, so certain her father would return soon. The terrifying truth was that they had no idea when the adults would be coming back…or even if they would be coming back…a possibility he wasn’t letting himself think through. The implications of such a thing were just too horrible.

If every adult in Paris – or in France – had disappeared…well, that was okay. At least…as okay as it could be, in this situation…because help would still come, from other cities, from other countries. But if every adult in the whole world had disappeared…they were in deep, deep trouble.

And what if this disappearing thing didn’t stop with adults? What if they started disappearing, too?

‘What about you?’ Sabrina startled him from his thoughts. ‘No one else rallied the troops, but you did. Why’s this so important to you?’

‘Oh, I…I guess I want my mother to be proud of me, too…like you and your dad. My…mother always raised me to think critically, not to follow the crowd. Besides…you and I are now two of the oldest people in Paris. Someone needs to take responsibility…you know?’

She frowned hard, like she didn’t know what to do with that idea – then looked through another car window.

 He returned to their task, too, focusing on the here and now – on today . There were kids who needed help. Tomorrow, he would start to think more about the long term. Try to work out what was going on. Maybe stock up, like Adrien and Marinette seemed to be doing…just to make things easier.

There wasn’t time to be afraid. He had a job to do.

He moved onto some of the apartments. The problem was, most were locked. Some even needed a keypad to enter. Most windows were also too high or covered in bars, so entering buildings was basically impossible, let alone actually entering individual homes.

Trying not to let helplessness overwhelm him, he banged on a door with his fist. ‘Hello? Anybody there?’

He pressed his ear to the door, listening for the sounds of crying, of distress. But there was nothing, which was either good or…bad. He prayed there was no baby, feeling once again the small weight of the dead infant in his arms the day before. He hadn’t looked at the baby’s face. Hadn’t wanted to look at his face. Just holding him, having to place him in the ground and cover him with dirt, had been enough.

The girl’s face, though…the image swam back into his mind, and he pushed it aside. He couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t afford to get sidetracked when there might be others he could save.

Yet his hands shook as he stepped away from the door and found himself faced with a burnt car, an acrid smell still lingering. He didn’t dare look in the windows. If anyone was in that vehicle, they were beyond help, now. 

Sabrina suddenly let out a cry. ‘Luka, come quick! I found someone!’

Heart racing, he ran to her across the street. The car she stood beside had veered out of control and crashed, wedging itself on the pavement between a pole and the wall of a shop. Another car had banged into it from behind. There was a girl – around ten years old – with her face up against the rear window, and when Luka stepped up to it, pressing his hands on the glass, he saw there was also a baby in a car seat behind her.  

‘We're going to get you out of there!’ he called out, his heart hammering. 

The girl’s face was splotchy. She’d been crying. When she spoke, her voice was thin, faint. ‘The door’s stuck.’

Luka bent down beside the car door. It had been crumpled, but was partially open, leaving a small gap – big enough to stick a hand or a leg out, but not a body. He began to pull and yank on it, trying to open it further. Sabrina joined him, the two of them groaning from the strain. After much effort, the door finally budged, opening another few crucial inches. Muscles burning, Luka stuck his arms and upper torso in.

‘Take my hand,’ he said, holding it out to the girl.

She didn’t hesitate to grasp it.

He helped pull her out of the vehicle, before sticking his head back in and crawling onto the seats, enough to grab the baby – less than a year old – from its seat, then climbing back out again. The baby looked unharmed, although it – she – had to be extremely thirsty and hungry. She wasn’t crying, which was…probably a bad sign.

The older girl cradled her arm to her chest, sniffling. ‘Papa disappeared.’ In the light, the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced. ‘He was driving and he…he disappeared.’

‘I'm sorry.’ Pressure squeezed his chest, the baby in his arms suddenly feeling so much heavier. But heavy was good. Heavy was alive . ‘We’ll…we’ll take you somewhere safe, now.’

The girl stared at him…or maybe stared through him. ‘He's not coming back, is he.’ Her voice was dull with shock.

Sabrina looked to Luka, as if he had some pearls of wisdom to make things better. But how did you comfort two children who’d just lost their parents and spent the last twenty-four hours alone in a demolished car without food or water or the reassurance that anyone would come for them?

Maybe she read all this in his face, because she turned back to the girl. ‘Don't worry – he will! All the adults will be back soon! My papa disappeared too, but he's coming back. I know he is.’

The girl continued to stare at nothing in particular.

Luka swallowed. ‘S-Sabrina…maybe you could take them back to the daycare, for now? I’ll…carry on here and you can meet me after.’

‘...okay. I guess you’d…better give me the baby.’

‘...yeah.’

Sabrina took her carefully, her brow furrowed in concentration, like she’d never held a baby before and was terrified she might drop her. When she had her, she cradled her close to her chest, then turned back to the girl. ‘Come on. Like Luka said, I’ll take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can eat and wash up and play. How’s that sound?’

The girl didn’t say anything, but she followed Sabrina when she took the first tentative step forward. Then they were on their way, leaving Luka alone with the wreckage.

With a heavy sigh, he continued his work. A few doors down, he found a four-year-old boy, shaking with fear, inside the only unlocked apartment out of the dozens and dozens he’d passed.

He ran into Sabrina on the way back to the daycare.

‘Good work,’ she said, nodding at the boy.

But Luka shook his head. ‘We’ve barely covered any ground. Just a couple blocks, maybe even less. All but one of the apartments were impossible to get into, and most of the cars were empty.’

‘It’s good they were empty.’

That was a solid point. ‘But the apartments….’

She didn’t have any reassuring words in reply.

He stared down the road, which seemed to stretch into the distance forever , with no end. They’d barely managed to scratch the surface. What were they supposed to do? Paris was too big. There was just too much to cover. It was impossible with so few people helping.

He pushed down the anxiety before it could swallow him whole. ‘Well, I guess we just…carry on. I’ll take this boy to the daycare and come join you.’

‘Sounds like a plan. See you soon.’ She moved onto the next door, knocking and calling, while he held the frightened boy tightly by the hand, leading him to shelter.

Hopefully, the others were having better luck – wherever they were.

‘Woo! Free popcorn!’

Nathaniel watched with wide eyes from the other side of the street as dozens of kids ran in and out of the cinema, waving around buckets of popcorn and throwing them in the air, sending thousands of kernels falling around them like snow. The smell of the butter was mouthwatering, even if the popcorn was probably stale.

‘This is crazy,’ Marc muttered beside him.

‘Mm.’ But what wasn’t crazy, now? In the past day, the word had been completely redefined. Nathaniel had seen his teacher vanish before his very eyes. His mother and grandmother were nowhere to be found, even though they should’ve been home at the time of the Poof. It hadn’t taken a genius to work out they’d gone to the same place as Ms Bustier – wherever that might be. As had all the teachers in the school. As had every single person fifteen and over.

He’d seen some kids only a couple years younger than him drive a car. Not just yesterday, but today, too, he’d heard another handful had attempted it and crashed into a bookstore. He’d seen Kim manning a café.

He’d seen someone die.

Kids looting the cinema hardly registered on the crazy scale anymore.

One of the kids tipped a bucket of popcorn over her head, tongue sticking out. The sight made his stomach rumble. It had been a while since breakfast.

He glanced at Marc. ‘Let’s keep moving. We have a lot of cars to check.’

They’d been given a job to do. As much as he hated to think of it, Juleka’s brother Luka had brought up the horribly real possibility that there might be young kids out there, trapped and needing help. He’d accepted immediately, needing to occupy himself somehow. Otherwise, he might just lose his mind thinking about what was happening – about Maman and Mamie being gone.

Thank god Marc had agreed to go with him. At least he didn’t have to do this alone. Hopefully, they didn’t actually find anyone.

Marc met his eyes, his expression grave, probably making the same wish – then the two of them headed down the road for the closest vehicle.

Juleka’s heart hammered in her chest as she stared at her hand, half of it visible, the other half passing right through the door handle she’d tried to grasp in her first attempt to search one of the apartment buildings that lined the street.

Her head felt light, her vision going black and starry, like she might faint. This couldn’t be real. She had to be seeing things.

But she knew she wasn’t. Because it had happened before.

‘Juleka?’ came a voice further down the road.

She yanked her hand back, holding it up and examining it. It looked normal. It felt normal.

But it had just passed through solid wood like it was water.

Like that time at school, months ago, when she’d been crying in the bathroom. Chloe had said something cruel to her, and all she’d wanted was for the ground to swallow her up. The next second, she’d found her feet sinking through the floor beside the toilet, down, down, down, until she’d let out a gasp and shot back up, the ground becoming solid once more. She’d convinced herself she’d hallucinated it. Seen things funny through the tears in her eyes. But –

‘Juleka?’ Rose had rejoined her. She’d gone on ahead, to see if she could open any of the doors further down, but the look on her face now told Juleka she’d had no such luck. ‘…are you okay?’

Juleka felt tears prickle her eyes. It wasn’t just the strange things happening to her body. How could she be okay after everything that had happened in the past day-and-a-half? Her mother was gone. And even though Rose had told her not to pay any mind to what Luka, Marinette and Adrien had been talking about in the café…if her brother was worried, then…then he had to have a good reason.

It had frightened Rose, too. That was why they were here, as part of the search party. It was something to do, something to distract them, something to make them feel productive and like everything would be okay. But it wasn’t. Nothing was okay.

But Rose wouldn’t want to think about that sort of stuff, so Juleka mumbled, ‘I’m fine.’

A doubtful look on her face, Rose wrapped her small arms around her. ‘Oh, Jules…you know I’m scared too. But we have to be strong. The adults will come back soon and everything will be okay again. I know it will.’

Juleka clenched her hands into fists at her side. She’d always loved and admired Rose’s bubbly enthusiasm and positivity. But this time…this time it sounded hollow. She wasn’t sure even Rose fully believed in it.

And Rose didn’t even know the whole story. This wasn’t just about the adults disappearing. Something else was happening. Juleka could do something impossible. She could pass through solid matter.

Her stomach twisted. If Rose knew…if she found out…what would she think? How would she react? Would she be frightened of her , too? Maybe run from her – avoid her? Having Rose and Luka here was the only thing keeping her from falling off a mental precipice. If she lost one of them….

She clung to Rose, like a life preserver, her heart pounding with guilt and shame, praying her arms wouldn’t pass right through Rose’s body as she held her. She could never know. Neither of them could ever find out.

Never in her life did Zoe think she’d find herself pulling a toddler out through the smashed rear window of a car.

The child was crying, her face red and scrunched up. Zoe cradled her to her chest, helpless, with no idea what to do now. Beside her, Alix held the metal chair she’d driven into the glass to break it. 

When Luka had rallied them to start searching…she hadn’t actually expected to find anyone. Hadn’t realised just how violent forcefully breaking into a car was. Hadn’t expected her own reaction. Her hands were shaking, even though it was Alix who’d shattered the window. 

It had all happened so quickly – almost too quickly, like something out of a dream. One second, Alix had her arms raised, the chair in the air. Then, without even seeing the chair move, there was the sound of smashing, and a terrified scream from the girl in her car seat.

How…?

Alix was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly and her skin flushed with adrenaline. She set down the chair and shoved her hands in her pockets, as if to steady herself. She was avoiding eye contact.

Zoe winced and glanced at her finger, spotting a thin cut. She must have accidentally touched a shard of glass through the jacket she’d placed over the glass before pulling the girl out. She rubbed her hand against her jeans. The wound stung, but…at least it was only small.

Alix cleared her throat. ‘I…guess we better take her to the daycare, like Luka said.’ Her voice wavered when she spoke, obviously just as shaken by the incident.

It took a moment for Zoe to find her own voice. ‘Y-yeah. Then we’ll come back and keep looking.’

As they set off down the street, Zoe glanced back at all the other cars that might contain more children in need to rescue. Maybe one of them contained her sister.

She wouldn’t have disappeared – as far as they knew, no one under fifteen had. But then – where was she? Was she okay? What if she was hurt? Who was looking for her?

Only Sabrina had approached her to ask after Chloe. Which was understandable, because she’d never been the nicest person. But she was still her sister. And now…now the rest of their family had vanished. Now they only had each other…for who knew how long.

She cast one last look behind, down the road and into the distance.

Oh Chloe. Wherever you are…I hope you’re okay.

Chapter Text

Chloe Bourgeois was not okay. She was stuck in the sewers, with sewer air in her hair and sewer smell on her skin and sewer flavour in her mouth. It was disgusting. It was like that time Rose sprayed her fishy perfume around the classroom – yuck.

Holding up her phone as a torch, she walked along the cement pathway that bordered the gross green water, thick with who even knew what. It was probably toxic and would burn a hole through her shoes if it splashed on her. Could this day possibly get any worse?

What had happened to the other boring kids in her class? They were probably all somewhere boring doing boring things. Yet…she was stabbed with longing to be with them, doing those boring things herself.

Of course, if she saw them again, she’d let them all know she wished they’d all died so she could carry on in peace…but here in the dark, the idea of being the last human alive was all too real and…terrifying. If only she had Mr Cuddly.

Chloooooooeeee….

That voice called to her again. The voice that had drawn her into the sewer in the first place, hypnotic and persuasive without really trying. Each time she heard it, it was like someone else had taken control of her body, moving her onward towards the source, while another voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to run the other way.

CHLOOOOOOEEEEEE….

Apart from the voice, the only sound was the scurrying of bugs and…vermin. That, and a steady dripping, like when you turned off the shower and it took a few minutes for the water to stop flowing. The sewer water was still, too, like all the plumbing had been shut down.

Just like the power.

CHLOOOOOOEEEEEE…!

‘Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming! God, keep your pants on.’ Honestly, there was no need to get pushy about it. No one told Chloe Bourgeois what to do.

So why am I doing this?

She swallowed and carried on. It was the only choice, having come this far already. Besides, she needed to figure out what was going on . There had to be a reason why she was down here in the sewer with her hair looking like a drowned….

Rat.

No… rats, plural.

She froze, breathless at the sight of them. A quick mental count told her there were at least ten, their eyes all glowing a hot red…and they were enormous. More like rabbits than rats…really big rabbits. She’d heard of huge rats before, but these still looked excessive.

She shook her head, muttering to herself. ‘This is ridiculous, Chloe, utterly ridiculous. You’re obviously hallucinating from sewer fumes.’

The hallucination got worse, as the rat at the front – larger than the others, more like one of those papillon dogs, but not remotely cute – stepped forward. ‘This no hallucination, Chloe.’ His voice was gravelly. ‘I Monsieur Rat. I real. This real.’

She rubbed at her temples. ‘Okay, fine, a nightmare. I haven’t woken up since I was hurled out of that car. Better yet – I’m dead! This is all just some kind of twisted afterlife. Except….’ She blinked at her surroundings. ‘That’s impossible! I was definitely meant to go to a better afterlife than this…somewhere it’s always beach weather and I have an infinite shoe closet. I wouldn’t be sent somewhere full of talking gigantirats. The universe just wouldn’t be that cruel to me!’

‘Chloe, shut up and listen.’

It wasn’t so much the impertinence of the words as the voice that grabbed her attention. For a moment, it sounded like her mother. This was definitely Hell.

‘No, no, no.’ She gripped her hair – her ruined hair. ‘What did I do so wrong? I was a nice person! At least…I tried to be. It’s not my fault people like Dupain-Cheng pushed my designer buttons.’

‘CHLOE, SHUT UP!’

She jumped. It was that other voice again – the one that had called her down here. Trembling, her gaze found Monsieur Rat, who was staring at her hard with his glowy red eyes. But it wasn’t the rats speaking. They weren’t the source. They only… served the source and….

How did she know that?

‘You’ve always wanted to be exceptional…haven’t you, Chloe?’

The words were stuck in her throat. It didn’t matter. Whoever was speaking to her already knew the answer.

‘I see you, Chloe. I see your potential.’

She swallowed. ‘Y-you do?’

‘Oh yes, Chloe.’

While the voice spoke, the rats crept closer. Instinct told her to run, but her legs wouldn’t work. She was fighting to keep breathing, and her heart was pounding in time with the incessant drip-drip-drip from the switched-off pipes. A vision came to her, of dying down here, eaten by rats. No one would even know to look for her. No one would find her body.

Maybe that was a good thing. It wouldn’t look pretty.

Monsieur Rat’s mouth started moving. ‘We mean no harm. Not if cooperate.’ This time, the voice was garbled, like multiple voices in chorus – like the whole crew of rats were speaking at once.

There wasn’t time to ask how they’d acquired the power of humanlike speech, or why they talked in that broken way. ‘W-what do you want from me?’

‘Not us who want you, Chloe. Darkness want you.’

That really didn’t sound good.

‘Darkness veeery interested in you. It has eye on you. See you.’

‘That’s…g-great….’

The rats had come even closer, some encircling her feet, brushing against her bare ankles. A scream rose in her throat but wouldn’t come out. Revulsion danced with terror. She’d never been bothered by rats, as a rule. There was that cute, clean, white rat Sabrina once had as a pet…but these weren’t the same. These were black and huge, with long hair, sleek with sewer water and teeming with grime. Their glowing red stares were ravenous, their mouths open to expose their long, sharp teeth.

It was like something out of Little Red Riding Hood…except she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a hood, messing up her hair like that. Who the hell wore all red, anyway? But what she wouldn’t give for a wood axe right now.

‘We bring you to Darkness,’ Monsieur Rat said. ‘Darkness open your eyes, like Darkness open ours.’

So, whatever had called her down here had also done something to the rats. She put up her hands. ‘Yeah, um…I’m good, thanks.’

‘You COME WITH US!’

She quivered in place. She didn’t want whatever they had to offer. All she wanted was to be at home bitching about Marinette. But the rats had other ideas.

One of them nipped at her ankle. With a scream, she toppled over, now even easier to attack. They crawled over her legs, swarming her, licking at the blood trickling from the bite wound. Worse still, they were chewing at her shoes.

Enough was enough! She kicked at them, shoving herself back to her feet – but there was nowhere to go. They waited for her on all sides. There were more nips, more toothy swipes at her pumps, pushing her forward until she was walking, going exactly where they wanted her to go, with Monsieur Rat at the lead.

She let out a long breath, trying to remind herself who she was. If she was going to follow a bunch of rats into the depths of the sewer, she was going to do it on her own terms.

And she would deal with Monsieur Rat and Monsieur Rat only . As if she was going to lower herself to being pushed around by ‘the help’. She gave one another kick, crossing her arms in a huff. ‘ Alright, already. I’m coming! Just…leave the shoes alone.’

They continued to graze her ankles.

Someone ought to fire them.

She walked on, amid the horde of rats, deeper into the tunnel. It was so dark, even with her phone up. The torch light had dimmed, the battery dying. Even if she had her charger, there was nowhere to plug it in down here…and the electricity seemed to be off everywhere anyway.

A deep shudder ran through her body.

I could turn back.

Except…instinct said she couldn’t. It wasn’t just the darkness. She’d been walking so long down here…she’d got a little turned around, no longer confident that she could find the way back. Yes, she’d followed the walkway, but it branched off into other walkways, and she’d lost track of which way she’d turned each time. The only way out was to carry on until she found another manhole exit.

But something told her the rats wouldn’t let her, even then. They had plans for her – their master had plans for her.

Even without the voice speaking to her, she could still feel it in her mind, a second companion making this journey with her, ensuring she didn’t try to run. It was like her brain had its own form of meridian points, only they were doubt points, and the voice was a hand, the fingers pushing on exactly those places.

She must’ve slowed down, because one of the rats bit her leg again. In surprise, she threw her arms up, the phone leaping from her hand and landing in the dirty water with a sickening plop – a plop that spelled the end of light, maybe forever.

This time, it wasn’t just a shudder she felt. Her whole body filled with ice.

They said their master is the Darkness. That’s where they’re taking me – into the dark.

I’m not getting out of this.

I’m being herded to my death.

The only potential I have is for becoming rat food.

I’m going to be devoured down here until there’s nothing left of me to identify my body except maybe my teeth.

The gigantirats will probably dump the teeth in the water.

‘Open door,’ Monsieur Rat said – even more terrifying now that he was a disembodied voice in the darkness.

Still, hostility and defensiveness had always protected her in the normal world, so she crossed her arms and forced a haughty tone, pretending the rats were annoying classmates. ‘I don’t see an open door.’

‘You open door.’

Oh. ‘Um. Which door? I can’t see anything.’

‘Down. On ground.’

Her stomach flopped. Was he seriously asking her to get down on the ground like some kind of common animal and –

Pain spiked through her head. She gripped her ruined hair, grimacing to hold back a scream.

NOW, Chloe.

The voice. The master.

‘Okay, okay! Just – let me go!’

The pain vanished – but it was still there for her if she disobeyed. She could sense it.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she slowly lowered herself, her arms shaking. There was nothing for it – she had to get on hands and knees to feel around for the thing. She fought down a wave of nausea as she touched the floor, patting it in places until she clasped a cold metal handle, covered in knots and lumps as though rusted over.

She moved back and heaved on the handle. A loud creaking sound told her she’d opened some kind of hatch. No one needed to tell her what to do next.

Wincing in preparation for more pain, she eased through the manhole, taking her time down the rickety ladder, descending still further underground. Rats leapt onto her, making her shriek and almost lose her footing. Her breath came short and fast as she steadied herself.

‘Chloe unhappy,’ Monsieur Rat’s voice came, right in her ear – sitting on her shoulder.

‘Yes, Chloe very unhappy! You could’ve warned me that you were coming along for the ride!’

Okay, she really was losing her mind now. At what point had she started interacting with these rats like they were old companions?

Monsieur Rat didn’t reply – thank god.

She carried on climbing, her feet striking thin air. The ladder was suspended and there was no way of knowing how far down the platform was. What if she took a large tumble and broke her legs?

No. They wouldn’t make anything that dangerous for the sewer workers. Besides…apparently I can just heal myself, so….

With a deep breath, she took a leap of faith – and landed hard on another platform. The sound echoed too much for it to be an ordinary walkway. It was more like….

The mouth of a pipe.

‘In.’

She shook her head, even though they couldn’t see her. ‘Uh-uh. No way. You couldn’t pay me enough to –’

That pain sliced through her head again, this time worse than before. She doubled right over so she was already almost in the pipe. ‘Okay, okay, please!’ She sobbed out her plea – and was released.

Swallowing, she remained on all fours and began crawling through the pipe. If only she had some idea of how big it was…or wasn’t. She could reach out for the sides but…maybe it wasn’t a question she wanted answered. Better to imagine it was really wide…even if her mind kept filling with images of the walls shrinking in on her, turning her into a Chloe sausage roll.

Get a grip! If she didn’t control her thoughts, she’d lose her mind and probably beg the rats to eat her.

In here, the dripping sound was gone. All she could hear was the scurrying of the rats as they swarmed down the pipe with her – and her own terrified heart.

What were all her classmates doing, while she was down here? Where was Sabrina? Was she worried about her? Was Zoe? Was their mother?

Maybe with the threat of losing Chloe for good, her mother might realise she cared about her, after all. Maybe she was somewhere out there, wringing her hands with stress and shouting at people to find her precious daughter or they’d be fired.

Or maybe…maybe no one was thinking of her.

Somehow, the idea was worse than being eaten alive.

A dim light pulled her out of her thoughts – a literal light at the end of the tunnel. The light grew as she reached the pipe exit, where she stared out into a large chamber. There was no single source of luminescence. It was everywhere – a sickly green glowing from the walls.

And she wasn’t alone. It wasn’t just the rats. It was…their master.

The rats crawled over her, pushing and dragging her out of the pipe, into the chamber. She lost a shoe in the process but didn’t dare try to retrieve it, her whole body paralysed at what greeted her.

 There were more rats here, all with those same red eyes – and they came for her. Rat feet scrambled and rat fur slid over her skin, covering her until she was clothed in a rat coat…a living rat coat.

Sickness rose in her throat, and a scream, which found its way out as white light exploded. Bright as a bomb, it shoved its way into her head like a physical thing, like claws digging through her eyes and burrowing inside her brain, until the world grew dark, all thoughts of shoes forgotten.

Some art to go with this one, from the very talented @RaspberryCatapult:

Chapter Text

After a few more trips back and forth between the Monoprix and the daycare, Marinette took Adrien to Manon’s house. He pushed a trolley full of supplies they’d collected – baby clothes and nappies and other things for August, plus food, water and torches for the bakery. There were even a couple portable stoves. 

Nadja would’ve been at work when the Poof happened, so the door to the apartment was locked. Adrien grimaced, lifting his hands from the trolley handle, maybe bracing himself to try his power.

But she stopped him. ‘I have a spare key, for when I babysit.’ When she fished it from her pocket, his shoulders dropped with relief. 

They left the trolley out on the street. Inside, they split up, Adrien scouring the bathroom and kitchen for anything generally useful, while Marinette took Manon’s bedroom, a place she needed to investigate alone , just in case anything…happened.

She found an overnight bag in the closet and started stuffing things in. Practical things first, as much as would fit. Then she reached for a teddy bear sitting on the bed.

‘Hey, Marinette?’

She turned, arm hovering in the air. Adrien stood in the doorway behind her. 

‘Yeah?’

‘There’s a bowl and some cutlery that looks like it belongs to Manon.’ He held up a small plastic bowl with a video game console print on it. ‘D’you think we should take it with us? So she has something that’s a little familiar?’

‘Good idea, yeah.’

Adrien gave her a thin smile before disappearing from view. 

She looked back at the teddy bear, her fingers curling around it, and –

It was gone. 

Her hand hung there, uselessly. 

The bed was empty.

But…that was impossible. The teddy bear had been right there… hadn’t it?

No. No. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. She must’ve imagined the bear. It was always there when she came over to babysit, so she must have just expected it to be there this time too. Her brain had filled in the gaps when it wasn’t.

Yeah. That’s all it is – my brain playing tricks on me. There’s nothing weird going on. Nothing like….

Swallowing, she carried on with her task, focused on filling the bag, then met Adrien in the kitchen, where he was packing the last of what he could fit. He slung the bag over his shoulder, wincing at the weight.

Outside, they dumped the bags in the trolley, which was almost overflowing. Marinette grabbed the handle before he could get to it. ‘It’s my turn.’

He gave her a small smile, and they went on their way.

It was incredible how quickly time became irrelevant when you didn’t have your phone. How whether it was 11 am or 1 pm couldn’t possibly matter less. They’d been going back and forth between locations for hours, now. It might be late afternoon, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, but the light from the sun was funny in a way she couldn’t quite place. Some strange effect of the dome. 

The dome. Every once in a while, she would remember that awful, milky wall she and Adrien had come across at the base of the Eiffel Tower the day before, and her stomach would twist with guilt – because they still hadn’t told anyone. As far as they knew, they were the only ones aware of its existence. She wasn't sure when she and Adrien had decided not to say anything, but it couldn’t go on much longer. Alya and Nino and Luka and all the others needed to know. 

They were nearing the park when the thought came to her. ‘The sun is outside the dome.’

Adrien turned to her in question.

She continued to think it through. ‘Otherwise it – it wouldn't fit. We’d all be dead. And the clouds, too. So that…that means the rest of the world is still there, on the other side. It’s not the vacuum of space or anything. We’re still on Earth.’

He stared up at the sky, as if confirming her theory. ‘You're right. That makes sense.’

It was what they’d already assumed anyway, but this was final confirmation. And if there was still a world on the other side, then her parents….

A loud shout broke through the silence. Beside her, Adrien stopped dead in his tracks, and she did the same.

‘What was that?’ His eyes were large with alarm.

‘I don’t know –’

There were multiple voices now, shouting, arguing, getting louder and more agitated. 

‘It’s coming from the park.’ Adrien took off.

Marinette followed. When they reached the gates, she abandoned the trolley, her mind racing with possibilities. Was someone hurt? Was there an emergency?

Were the adults back?

Maybe that was too much to hope for, but…her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest, daring to believe it anyway.

There were more kids now, hundreds more than there’d been that morning, spread throughout the park. It was hard to move through the crowd. Up ahead, Adrien pushed in, leading the way, following the yelling until they made it to the other side of the park, where the crowd was thicker, having formed a semi-circle around the source of the noise. 

Two boys, both fair-skinned, one with dark curls and the other with short blond hair, stood only a metre apart, fury on their faces. At the side was Luka, eyes darting between them, his body tensed in anticipation of something bad. The boys were probably only twelve or thirteen, but – 

Marinette’s breath caught, her eyes widening in horror as her eyes locked onto the object the blond-haired boy held in his hand. 

A gun – a small pistol, the kind police carried

‘It’s not natural! ’ he growled with a slow shake of his head. ‘It’s sick!’ 

‘Just cut it out, Michel!’ the other boy said. ‘I didn’t mean it!’

‘Guys, stop.’ Luka took a step forward, then paused, his eyes on the gun.

‘You don’t understand.’ Michel jabbed the gun in the air. ‘He’s the one who needs to stop. He’s a freak!’

‘Shut up!’ The other boy’s hands balled into fists at his side. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not my fault! I can’t even help it! It just happens!’

‘And that's exactly why you’re dangero –’

BANG!  

The deafening sound ripped through the air.

Instinct made Marinette duck, clapping her hands to her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. Screams rang out across the park. When she opened her eyes again, the curly-haired boy was staggering back, his mouth parting in a shocked ‘o’. 

Everything seemed to slow, the world around her narrowing, until all she could see was the stain of red – dark red, almost black – blossoming quickly across the boy’s left leg. 

Then he let out a horrible squeal of pain, dropping to the ground, and everything came rushing back. 

‘My leg!’ he screamed. ‘My leg!’

There was commotion everywhere, the crowd all shouting at once.

‘He’s hurt!’

‘He got shot!’

The boy holding the gun backed away, shaking his head again. His eyes were wild. ‘I didn’t mean – I didn’t –’

Luka had gone pale.

Marinette was moving before she knew what she was doing. In the blink of an eye, she was crouching on the ground beside the fallen boy. Blood was rapidly seeping out of the wound, pooling underneath the leg, spreading across the dirt path. Her jeans were soaked in seconds. 

‘We need something to wrap around it!’ she shouted, her own voice seeming to come from far away.

She started to rip off her jacket. Then Adrien was beside her, pulling off his own. She grabbed it from him, wrapping it tight around the boy’s leg.

The boy was sobbing, tears streaming down his cheeks. ‘I’m gonna die. I don’t wanna die.’

‘You’re not going to die!’ Marinette snapped. Her eyes stung, her vision blurring. There was blood, so much blood. The jacket wasn’t enough. ‘We need bandages!’

Why was no one else doing anything? People were just standing there watching, the crowd growing around them. 

‘Please – the pharmacy – there have to be some at the pharmacy!’

Her plea jolted Luka back into action. ‘I’ll go!’ He pushed back through the crowd, disappearing. 

Only whimpers escaped the boy, now. Marinette pressed her hands against the wound over the jacket, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

Adrien bent over the boy’s body, his face right beside Marinette’s. ‘What’s your name?’

‘L–Laurent.’

‘You’re going to be okay, Laurent. Everyone’s here with you. You’re not alone. Luka’s just gone to get bandages and we’re going to fix you right up.’

Some part of her registered Adrien's words, wondered how he could sound so calm. His voice was distant, faint, as if it were coming from the other end of a very long tunnel. Soon, everything else around her faded away as well, until all she was aware of was that terrible red staining his jacket, spilling through and onto the ground, unstoppable. No matter how much pressure she applied, it just kept – coming – out.

‘Here!’ Bandages were suddenly thrust into her hands. Time had slipped and – Luka was back.

She fumbled with the packaging. Ripped it open. Unravelled a thick, long bandage. Removed Adrien's jacket, now soaked with blood. 

With Adrien’s help, she pulled off Laurent’s trousers, didn’t hesitate, leaving him in just his boxers and socks. The wound was ugly and red, like some monster had bitten a chunk out of the leg. Her vision spun, bile rising in her throat. 

‘C-cold….’ Laurent could barely get the words out, his face ashen.

With no idea if she was even doing it right, she tried to wrap the bandages around the leg. A word passed through her mind – shock. She’d heard about it before, but she’d never – she didn’t – the worst injury she’d ever dealt with was a cut finger from sewing, or a small burn on her hand from baking – 

Adrien was wrapping his bloodied jacket around Laurent’s torso, tucking the ends under him as he continued to shiver. Dimly, she could hear other people crying. Her own eyes burned. 

He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay. No one else is going to die, damnit! 

She didn’t know how long she lay there, her body pressing down on the boy, her hands squashed between them. The rest of the world stopped existing completely. It was only her, and the feeling of his blood-soaked legs underneath her.

Seconds – minutes – hours later, it was impossible to tell, she felt someone touch her shoulder. Adrien. She blinked, his image swimming in and out of focus. 

‘C’mon,’ he said softly. 

She sniffed and wiped at her face with her hand, blinking again, daring to look at Laurent. His eyes were closed.

‘Is he d-dead?’ she croaked out. 

‘No. He fell asleep a few minutes ago. Or fell unconscious. I don’t know. But…the bleeding has mostly stopped for now.’

‘He needs – he needs –’

Surgery. He needed surgery to close the wound. And medicine. But there were no doctors here. 

Adrien helped her stand up. Only then did she realise her body shaking. Her knees wobbled, struggling to keep her upright, and her head spun, her thoughts unclear. 

‘Where's the gun?’ she mumbled, the words slurring together. 

‘Luka has it. He wrapped it up and took it somewhere, so no one else can…can get hurt.’

‘H-how – where –’

‘A police officer must’ve dropped it when…. Anyway. One of the boys found it, and….’ He glanced at Laurent, still on the ground, looking impossibly small. ‘The other boy ran off. I don’t know where exactly….’

The details of the boys’ argument slammed back into her head.

‘It’s not natural! It’s sick!’

‘I can’t even help it. It just happens!’ 

‘And that’s exactly why you’re dangerous!’

Slowly, she met Adrien’s eyes, afraid to give voice to her thoughts. He gave a faint nod, and somehow she knew he was thinking the same thing.

Laurent had powers – just like Adrien. 

He wasn’t the only one. Something was happening – something beyond all the adults disappearing.

Sickness churned in her gut. Without thinking, she leaned a hand on Adrien’s arm to steady herself. Maybe he read the need in her face, the need to leave, because he placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her away from Laurent, away from everyone. She was only faintly aware of walking through the crowd, people’s eyes following them.

All those kids….

How many more of you can ‘do things’?

Adrien stopped her just outside the gates to the park, in front of the café on the corner – Kim’s Café. He went in, and came out a few moments later with a tea towel and a bottle of water. ‘Here. For your hands…and face.’

She looked down at her hands for the first time. They were covered in blood. Red also soaked her jacket, her jeans, and it must have got other places as well. She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut as a wave of dizziness overcame her. 

Blood. She had blood on her. Someone else’s blood. Someone who’d nearly died. Someone who could still die, because they didn’t have any doctors, and she didn’t know what to do, and –

‘Marinette….’ Adrien's voice was right beside her. Soft, quiet. She opened her eyes, and met his. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask if she was okay. They both knew she wasn't. Neither of them were. 

He pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her back, pressing her head to his chest. His bare chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. When had he taken it off? Maybe to help with the – blood. With each inhalation, she smelled it, sickly and ferrous.

She clenched her eyes shut again. Only a few days ago, she probably would’ve fainted upon simply seeing Adrien’s bare skin, let alone actually touching it. Now, it seemed like the only thing keeping her from passing out, and all she could do was cling to him, taking in shuddering, gulping breaths, and cry.

Chapter Text

As they stood outside the park gates, Adrien held Marinette tight, focusing only on her. In that moment, it was just the two of them – as if encased in their own little dome, separating them from the rest of the city, the park, the other kids….

Her body shook against his bare chest as she gulped down great breaths with each sob. Having her that close, with her face pressed against his skin, her anguish felt like his own, finding his heart, making it hurt as badly as she was hurting. Tears formed in his eyes, his own grief finding a way out.

The smell of blood was overpowering, twisting his stomach with nausea. It wasn’t her blood, and yet…. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of it smeared across her face, her hands, her body. But even then, he saw it – and worse. His mind filled with unwanted images, of her being the one who got shot, her lying on the ground bleeding out, her whispering that she didn’t want to die. Ice gripped his heart.

I’d rather die than see her hurt.

The thought was clear, absolute, and startling.

She felt so soft and fragile in his arms. It was an honour to be the one to hold her in her vulnerability, to be the one she trusted with it. He clung to her in return, wrapping his arms around her as far as they would reach. If only their private dome could stay in place forever – if only he could hold her forever. Because, as she cried, it hit him that he needed this as much as she did. He’d been working so hard to hold it together, but sometimes you needed to break, and she was the only one he felt comfortable enough to break with.

How was it possible that there was a time when they didn’t spend every moment together? When they weren’t this close? When she was just a friend?

And it hadn’t even been two whole days. How had his life managed to turn upside down so completely in that time?

Too soon, she pulled away, her gaze landing everywhere but his face, as if she felt awkward or embarrassed. But there was no need. They’d already crossed some line he hadn’t known existed. But maybe she hadn’t realised this yet, so he let her have her space.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘Don’t be.’ Don’t ever be sorry, Marinette.

Her gaze settled on his chest, her eyes rounding with horror. He looked down at himself and saw the problem. He was now covered in a salty mix of blood and tears, like they were both survivors of a massacre. In a way…they kind of were. ‘It’s okay.’

‘No, I –’

‘Honestly. Let’s just wash ourselves.’ He opened the water bottle he was holding and applied tiny amounts to the tea towel in his other hand. Maybe he was just being overly cautious, but…it didn’t hurt to be sparing with the drinking water.

He started with her. Reached for her – hesitated, the towel hovering by her face – then gently wiped her cheeks, her forehead, her chin. She closed her eyes so he could clean them too. He moved onto her arms. With each stroke, he found himself wondering what it would be like to touch her with his fingers rather than a towel…which was probably not a thought he should be having when washing off blood. What had gotten into him?

And at what point had his hands started trembling?

Finished, he drew back and applied more water to the towel, roughly wiping down his arms, chest and face. He was about to toss the bloody rag into the shopping trolley when Marinette put up her hand, stopping him.

‘You…you missed some spots.’ She put out her hand for the towel.

‘Oh….’ He handed it to her, trembling harder now for no reason he could explain.

She seemed even more unsure than he’d been, about touching him, despite just falling apart in his arms. When the corner of the towel met his face, there was something so warm about it. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such affection that he’d forgotten how it felt. His eyes welled again.

A memory shot into the forefront of his mind. He’d been a small child, maybe five or six, and he’d fallen off his bicycle, skidding across the ground and tearing open his leg on the gravel. He’d hobbled home to his mother, wet with blood and tears. Never would he forget the look of horror that flashed across her face – or the way she swallowed it down, going into business mode, her expression forcibly neutral as she dragged him into the bathroom and calmly cleaned him up.

Once she’d applied the plasters, the wounds weren’t actually so bad. ‘Blood spreads,’ she’d said with a reassuring smile. ‘Sometimes things look worse than they are.’

Maybe this situation did, too…or maybe it was worse than they could imagine.

The image of Laurent screaming in pain returned to him. All that blood…and there was nothing they could do about it. This was serious. This was real . People had died. People had gotten hurt. And people would continue to get hurt. 

‘All done,’ Marinette whispered. She withdrew the towel and tossed it into the trolley, along with the water bottle.

‘Th-thanks.’

‘Do you…do you have a spare shirt?’

‘Yeah, there are a few back at our place.’ Only after the words were out of his mouth did he realise he’d just referred to the bakery as theirs.

She nodded, not batting an eyelid at what he’d done – as if it was understood. ‘Let's just drop off the supplies at the daycare first, then…then head back there.’

‘Good idea.’ Anything to stop drawing attention to being partially undressed in front of her. He took hold of the abandoned trolley. The handle felt good in his grip. It kept him steady.

They headed in the direction of the daycare, away from the park, away from the scene of the crime. With each step, it became easier to pretend what had happened was just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. It had really happened. And they really had to deal with it.

Right on cue, Luka appeared around the corner of the street. He spotted them and walked over.

As soon as he reached them, Marinette asked, ‘Is Laurent okay?’ Her voice wobbled.

Luka gave a short nod. ‘Yeah, Juleka and Rose are with him. You know how Rose has spent so much time at the nurse’s office?' 

They nodded slowly. 

‘Well…she doesn't know how to do much, but…I guess she knows better than any of us what it’s like to be a patient, so she volunteered to watch him. And Juleka…well, they do everything together.’ 

‘So…we’re starting a hospital, now?’ Adrien said. 

Luka shrugged. ‘I mean…we already have a daycare. And maybe we’ll need a prison, next, if this kind of thing continues.’

Adrien gripped the trolley handle so hard his knuckles whitened. If there was a prison, he deserved to be there, for what he’d done to that little girl in the fire.

Marinette shot him a look, like maybe she knew what was going on in his head, then turned back to Luka. ‘Where…where are you headed now?’

‘I’m going to try to round up more medical supplies. There are some other kids with broken bones and cuts and….’ He sighed under the weight of the list.

Broken bones? How were they meant to treat that?

The same way they were meant to treat a gunshot wound. 

They couldn’t.

Again, Marinette read Adrien’s mind. ‘That boy needs….’ Her voice cracked, and she shook her head in despair. ‘We’re not equipped for this.’

Luka sighed again. ‘I know. But we have to do what we can. That’s all we can do.’ He chewed on his lip in a way that suggested there was something he hadn’t shared yet, something that was gnawing at his nerves. The reason he’d approached them in the first place. 

Sometimes it was best to get these things out in the open, even if Adrien dreaded the answer. ‘What’s on your mind?’

Luka met his eyes, holding them, maybe scanning them for some sign that it was okay to say what he was thinking. ‘Well…I just can’t stop thinking about what the boys were saying before the…the gun….’

‘…y-yes?’

‘You two showed up late to the fight, so maybe you didn’t hear the whole thing but…they were yelling about powers.’

‘...powers?’ Adrien’s voice came out as a squeak. Way to go. Not suspicious at all.

‘I know how it sounds, but…Michel – the one with the gun? He accused Laurent of being able to…bring things to his hand, just by thinking about it. Like – like a magnet.’

Adrien and Marinette shared a look – a long look that meant they weren’t responding, were leaving a gap for Luka to draw conclusions, exactly the sort of conclusions they didn’t want him to draw.

He narrowed his eyes at them. ‘Okay…why don’t you two look surprised by this? I know I was – not to mention every other kid in the park watching the fight.’

Adrien glanced at Marinette again. Luka had always been a good guy. And in the last two days, he’d proven himself to be more than trustworthy. He’d been the only one to attempt to stop the fight – stepped right in with the bandages when Marinette called for them – taken away the gun – taken away Laurent – not to mention, he’d buried those bodies….

‘Come on, guys. After everything that's happened….What aren’t you telling me?’ He was usually so calm and collected, but now his voice was strained, clearly holding back frustration.

It was hard to say in what way Marinette’s expression changed but…somehow, Adrien understood that she was telling him it was down to him to answer Luka. It was his choice to share his secret or perpetuate the lie. 

‘Okay.’ Adrien dragged his hands over his face, still damp, and took a shaky breath. ‘Okay, listen. Please don’t freak out – and please don’t tell anyone – but…Laurent’s not the only one who can…do things.’

‘...do things?’ Luka’s eyes slowly widened. ‘You mean… you? You – you’re telling me you can do things too?’

Adrien nodded, his gaze landing on his hands, so innocent looking now, but….  ‘I can kind of…destroy things. I call it a…a cataclysm. I don’t…I don't really have control over it yet. It just…happens.’ He peered up, daring to face Luka’s reaction.

‘Destroy things….’ Understanding filled Luka’s eyes. ‘The girl – in that fire. When I saw her, I thought –’

‘I tried to save her,’ Adrien whispered. ‘But she was just sitting in the middle of all the flames, and she was so scared, and she tried to burn me, and –’

‘ Wait – tried to burn you?’

He swallowed. ‘The, um…the fire…it wasn’t natural. It was coming out of her hands. She’s the one who started it. She was the one shooting out flames, and when she…my hands, they just –’ Emotion lodged in his throat, along with the words. 

‘...but…you didn’t mean to do it.’

‘Of course not!’ Marinette burst in. ‘Adrien would – he would never – it was an accident!’

Luka opened his mouth to say something else, but Adrien pushed forwards, the words spilling out of him. ‘It's like I said – like what Laurent said. I couldn’t help it. My hands were just – just haloed in black and – and suddenly this energy was just flying out. It all happened so fast and then she was…she was dead.’ He pressed his eyes shut. As long as he lived, he’d never stop seeing that moment play out in his head. 

Marinette’s hand wrapped around his, and he took in a shuddering breath, his eyes blinking open, forcing himself to swallow. At least, no matter what…he had her support. 

Luka was looking at their clasped hands, though it was hard to tell what was spinning through his mind. He dragged his gaze away, back to Adrien’s face. ‘Okay.’

‘...okay?’

‘Okay.’ Luka let out a heavy breath. ‘You’re a good guy, Adrien. God, I know you’d never try to hurt someone on purpose. Just…I wish you’d told me sooner.’

‘But you understand why we didn’t,’ Marinette said softly. 

His brow lifted, maybe noting the way she’d said ‘we’. ‘Yeah…I understand. But listen, I don’t think it’s just Adrien and Laurent and…that girl. This feels bigger.’

It did.

‘Do you know of anyone else who has powers?’

Adrien shook his head, then looked at Marinette, who’d fixed her gaze on her shoes. 

‘N-no. I – me neither.’ Her words sounded distant, as if in her mind she’d just gone somewhere far away.

Luka was frowning, studying her…but then, he always seemed to look at her that way. And who could blame him? She was hard to look away from. ‘Okay, well…we need to keep an eye on this. Something about it doesn’t sit well.’

That was putting it mildly.

‘And if anything else weird happens…can we please agree to be honest with each other? We’re – we're all in this together…right?’

‘Of course,’ said Adrien quietly. 

‘Yeah,’ said Marinette.

The words sounded hollow – and for good reason. Because they were still keeping things from him. And maybe he could tell. Luka was anything but stupid.

He gave them both a small nod. ‘Well, I’m going to head off to the pharmacy, like I said. We’ll catch up later?’

‘Sure thing.’ Adrien gave him a little wave, and Marinette did too.

Luka frowned, then waved back and continued past them, down the road. 

Adrien grabbed the trolley handle again. ‘It doesn’t feel good, does it. Keeping secrets and lying.’

She looked up at him. ‘S-secrets?’

‘You know….about the dome.’

‘Oh!’ She let out a small humourless laugh, her shoulders dropping…with relief? ‘Right. Th-the dome. Yeah. It…it doesn’t.’

He’d been about to say they needed to tell the others, but her reaction gave him pause. Now it was his turn to study her, the way Luka had. Not just that dark hair rebelling against her hairbands, falling in little wisps around her face, or the sweet blue of her eyes. The way she kept glancing away, licking her lip, like there were words sitting on the tip of her tongue, words she was forcing back.

What did you think I meant, Marinette?

He held back the thought. She was probably just still in shock after the gun incident. Who wouldn’t be?

But as he began to push the trolley in the direction of the daycare, Marinette at his side, his gut twisted with worry.

What aren't you telling me, Marinette?

Chapter Text

Walking back to the daycare with Adrien, Marinette’s shoulders felt heavy – and her head – and her heart. What had just happened – the gun, the revelation that other kids were developing powers – was a physical weight dragging her down and pressing on her airways, preventing her from speaking. Maybe Adrien felt it too, because he pushed the trolley in silence, his steps slow.

The daycare was quieter than it had been all the previous times they’d visited throughout the day, and when they entered the large open common area, leaving the trolley by the door, the space was empty. Faint voices came from behind a door at the far end – the dining hall.

She took a step forward, but Adrien reached out a hand to stop her.

‘I’ll – I’ll go see if they’re there. You…well….’ His eyes travelled down her body.

She swallowed, realising what he was trying to say. Even after he’d cleaned her with that small towel, her clothes were still soaked with blood. She had to look like something out of a horror film. It was probably best if the children didn’t see.

So she nodded, and Adrien went over to the door and slipped inside

She didn’t have to wait long before the door flew open again.

Alya rushed over. ‘Marinette!’ Her arms were outstretched as if she might hug her, but she came to a stop a foot away, hesitating. Her arms dropped, her shoulders slumping, and she blinked rapidly, as if fighting back tears. ‘Oh, girl.’ Her voice was choked.

‘Hi, Als,’ Marinette whispered.

Alya scanned her up and down, taking in the blood, and maybe something more, something Marinette couldn’t see herself. ‘Adrien told us what happened. With…with the boy.’

Somehow, the euphemism stung. ‘You mean with the gun. Someone had a gun, Alya. Someone got shot and nearly –’ The rest of the sentence got tangled in her throat.

‘Y-yeah.’ Alya’s eyes were warm with sympathy.

Marinette hugged herself, her shoulders drawn inward. ‘Did...did he mention any…details?’

‘He…said the boy was attacked because he could….’ Alya bit her lip. She seemed to be trying to come to terms with what she was saying as she said it. ‘...because he could do things. Adrien…he thought it was best if we heard it from him first….’

Marinette’s heart clenched. He was right. There was no way they could hide this. The only thing they had control over was how they told their friends.

‘I’m sorry. I…this day has just been a mess.’ Alya wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, taking in a shuddering breath in an effort to stay composed.

For my sake.

‘But, look – there’s a shower upstairs, in the apartment. The water’s still working. You should go get cleaned up.’

A shower. Water. As good as that sounded, it couldn’t wash away what had happened. ‘I – it’s okay. We were just….’ It was an effort to speak. Exhaustion was catching up with her and she could barely stay standing. All she wanted was to go home, bloodstained or not.

Alya was shaking her head in that way Marinette’s mother always did. ‘You need a shower. Or a bath. There’s a bath, too. I gave some of the babies one earlier. Though I’m not sure how long the water’s going to last.’

‘But –’

‘I’m not offering, girl.’

She closed her mouth and gave a small nod, too weak to argue.

With heavy steps, she headed upstairs, to the apartment above the daycare, where Luka had been with the kids earlier. There was no one there now, though. Where had they gone? Where was Manon? Probably downstairs, eating dinner with the other kids. And August. August had to be down there, too.

At what point had they all become her number-one priority? When had she started worrying about them before caring about whether she was covered in….

She quickly found the bathroom and switched on the light. There was a small wooden cupboard in one corner, a shower, and a bathtub, as Alya had said. But running all that water seemed like a waste. Alya was right – they didn’t know how long the water would last. It was already such luck that it still ran in this apartment – that it was one of the few buildings that had power.

Even a shower seemed like a waste. And why should she get to have one, but not the others? What about Adrien? Or Alya? Or Nino? If they wanted to have one too, would they be able to? Would the dozens of kids downstairs?

Yet, standing in that little room, the smell of iron filled her nostrils, churning her stomach. And when she approached the sink, looking at herself in the mirror for the first time, she saw why Alya had sent her up here.

A cry rose in her throat, a sound that wouldn’t quite come out. How was that her? How was that the person her friends had been looking at? She looked hollowed out, pale, sallow, like she was the one who’d been shot. It didn’t help that she hadn’t showered in two days.

Swallowing, she dragged her gaze away from her reflection and kicked off her shoes. She slipped off her jacket, then tried to pull down her jeans. They were soaked all the way through, the blood sticky and crusty. As she yanked and pulled, struggling to get them off, frustrated tears filled her eyes. An angry curse burst from her mouth, and she was able to remove them at last, alongside her underwear.

She stumbled into the shower and twisted the knob. Cold water blasted down from the shower head. She gasped, her body shrinking with shock, and twisted the knob again to turn it warm. But the water wouldn’t heat up.

Under normal circumstances, she would’ve shut off the shower and got out, run to her parents to get one of them to fix the problem. But nothing about this was normal, and her parents were….

Rivers of red ran down her stomach and legs, disappearing down the drain. She felt around blindly for the closest object – a sponge – and began to scrub at her skin. She scrubbed and scrubbed, at her hands, her arms, her legs, until the skin was raw and angry, trying to get rid of the blood, trying to wash it off.

But she couldn’t unsee it. No matter how hard she scrubbed, it was still there. A choked sob escaped her, and then another, and another. Her lungs were being crushed. She couldn’t breathe. The scent of iron was suffocating. 

She slid down to the floor, curling up in the corner of the shower, burying her face in her arms, her whole body heaving with each sob. Tears slid down her cheeks, mingling with the shower water. Eyes clenched shut, she put a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs. She didn’t want anyone downstairs to hear – but she couldn’t hold it back. All the events of the past forty-eight hours were slamming into her all at once.

The boy who’d nearly died. The blood.

The girl’s face, burnt away by the fire. By – by Adrien’s Cataclysm.

And then…that small figure, that impossibly tiny body up on the tower, with his head – his head –

A horrible sound escaped her.

She was too young. She was only fourteen . It wasn’t fair. She just wanted to be at home. She just wanted her parents. Why, why did they have to disappear? Why the adults? Why did she have to be one of the oldest?

Eventually, her tears subsided. She didn’t feel better, but she was too exhausted to continue, too drained. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting under the water, but she stood, now, on wobbly legs, and reached for a bottle of shower gel with a trembling hand. It was light, less than half full, and a hair was stuck to the side.

As her head cleared, her surroundings came into focus. It struck her that she was in a stranger’s house, using their shower, their soap. There was something so wrong about it. Here she was, intruding on their private space without their knowledge, just like she’d broken into homes earlier that day and taken their children….

She set down the bottle and rushed out of the shower.

It was only when she reached for the metal towel rack beside the shower that she realised she had no towel to dry herself with. But there was that cupboard over in the corner. Maybe….

She let out a heavy exhale of relief. The cupboard was stocked with neatly folded towels. Clean ones. She grabbed one of them and wrapped it around her body, her stomach twisting with guilt. Someone else’s soap, someone else’s children, someone else’s towel….

As she rubbed the towel over her hair, her eyes found her bloodied clothes on the floor. Those were…those were her only clothes here. She couldn’t put her jeans back on, or her shirt, or her jumper. At most, her bra and underwear, until they returned to the bakery and she could change again. But that wasn’t enough.

Her hands clenched around the towel. Too many decisions to make, too many problems to solve. She grew lightheaded, her vision blurring.

A knock on the bathroom door made her jerk, her heart instantly leaping to her throat.

‘…Marinette?’

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Adrien.

Adrien was on the other side of the bathroom door. 

What was he doing here? Had something horrible happened downstairs?

And when had it become her first instinct to assume something was wrong?

‘Wh-what is it?’ The words escaped her in a strangled croak.

There was a pause on the other side. She imagined Adrien standing just outside the door, his face pressed up against it. That thin panel of wood separating him from her, while she stood in nothing but a towel.

‘I – I went back to your place and – and dropped off the trolley and - grabbed a fresh change of clothes.’ He was spitting out the words, like he was having trouble breathing. ‘Because yours – well – yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to go in your room, but…I just…Alya said you were having a shower and I thought you might…need some clean clothes.’

Her mouth ran dry. Adrien had gone back and brought her some clothes. Some of her clothes. From her bedroom. From her…her wardrobe…oh god….

Shaking, she stepped up to the door, one hand clutching the towel closed around her body. With her other hand, she undid the lock, reached for the handle, and pulled open the door just a crack, enough for her to see Adrien standing right in front of the door.

He jumped back when he saw her, his eyes slamming shut. ‘S-sorry! I didn’t mean to – I didn’t see anything!’ His face was scrunched up. At least he was wearing a shirt, again.

Her own face burned. She must look awful, her face all splotchy and snotty from tears, her pigtails wet and half undone.

Still not opening his eyes, he held out a bundle of clothes. A pair of tracksuit pants and her favourite long-sleeve top. The gesture – what he’d done for her – made her eyes well again.

‘Th-thanks.’ She took the clothes and slipped her hands back inside the door, closing it fast. The last thing she needed was to start crying in front of him. Then he might put his arms around her, try to comfort her, while she was….

She changed quickly. He hadn’t brought any underwear which…thank god. The thought of him looking through her underwear drawer was just too mortifying. She slipped on her old pair, even though they were damp and stained with blood along the top. Then she stuffed the other clothes into a hamper in the corner beside the cupboard. She would never wear those clothes again. Maybe she should ask Adrien to burn them.

When she left the bathroom, he was waiting out in the living room of the apartment, standing beside the couch. She stood in the doorway, watching him, studying the way his back hunched. He was exhausted too.

Clearing her throat, she walked over to him.

He looked up, his shoulders relaxing, as if relieved to see she was fully dressed. ‘H-hey.’

‘Hey.’ She looked away, one arm crossed over her chest. ‘Are you going to have a shower, too?’

‘Oh…no! I just – I thought I’d…wait for you. Up here.’

‘Oh….’

‘Ivan and Mylene are here, too. At the daycare. They came to help earlier. All the kids are eating dinner now. I think they made over a hundred sandwiches.’

She nodded. That…that was a lot of sandwiches. Then again, everyone knew Ivan liked kids. He was always talking about looking after his younger cousins in Versailles. 

Adrien indicated out the door, with his head, and she nodded. They headed back down to the daycare, to the communal area, where Alya and Nino were sorting through a pile of supplies. 

‘Oh, hey, guys,’ Nino said.

She gave a small wave, her heart jittering in her chest. As they handled the items, their movements were slow, as if each object was a weight. Their shoulders sagged and their faces serious, like they were too tired to smile.

But more than that – when they glanced at Adrien….

They knew.

Adrien hadn’t just told them about powers. He’d told them about his power.

Alya paused, a tin of beans in hand. ‘How are you feeling now, girl?’

Not good. She didn’t know how she’d ever feel good again. But she couldn’t add that burden to her friends’ shoulders. They had enough to carry. ‘Better,’ she whispered.

‘Told you.’

‘Yeah…you did.’ She searched their faces. Did they think of Adrien differently? Were they scared? If they were, they weren’t showing it.

‘Are you guys going to crash here tonight?’ Nino asked, his eyes on Adrien. 

Adrien’s brow rose. ‘I – we – we were going to go back to the bakery. Aren’t you?’

Nino let out a weak laugh, running a hand through his hair. ‘Nah, dude. And leave all these kids? Ivan and Mylene said they’d stay, but they can’t look after everyone.’ 

‘Oh…. Yeah, that…that makes sense.’ He threw Marinette a questioning look. Maybe wondering if it was okay, just the two of them in the house tonight. Like they were a…married couple or something, rather than a group of friends looking after a bunch of orphans. 

No! Not orphans. All these kids have families. Their parents are coming back. 

But until then…Alya and Nino were right. They couldn’t just leave all those children they’d cared for all day. They’d taken on the responsibility for them…all because they happened to have younger siblings. Did that really mean they were equipped for such a burden?

At least it’s not on me.

Guilt stabbed her heart at the thought. ‘We – we’ll take Manon and August back with us. We’ve got all their things now, and they know us, and….’ At least that would be two children off their hands.

Alya’s eyes darted between her and Adrien. ‘You sure you don’t want to stay here, too?’ 

Marinette nodded. ‘I just…I just want to go home .’ It was so alien now, without her parents. But it was all she had. She needed to go, needed to return to something familiar.

‘Alright. I’ll go get Manon and August for you.’ Alya hurried across the room and disappeared through the door to the dining hall.

She came out a minute later, holding Manon by the hand and August in her arms. 

‘Manon,’ Marinette breathed. It was a relief to see her looking just the same as always. She didn’t seem upset or in distress. In fact, she appeared calm, holding onto Alya with one tiny hand and the other clutching her – 

Teddy bear.

Marinette’s blood iced.

Don’t jump to conclusions. She probably had it this whole time and I just didn't notice. It’s been a hard day. I’m just…I’m remembering things wrong.  

I have to be.

But every tense muscle in her body said she wasn’t.

‘You okay, Marinette?’ Adrien – watching her closely as he took August from Alya.

‘Y-yeah. Of course.’ She took Manon by the hand. ‘Let’s…get going.’ She turned quickly, to avoid the look the others were sharing, and headed for the daycare exit. 

The daycare.

How long could Alya and Nino manage this? How long would they have to? A few more days? Weeks? Months?

A hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump.

‘Hey, hey .’ Adrien gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Whatever’s going through your mind right now…I’m here. You know that, right?’

She nodded slowly. ‘I – I know.’

He smiled with all the warmth the shower water had lacked, then went out the exit, while she followed after, her gaze glued to Manon’s teddy bear.

Chapter Text

Adrien shifted August in his arms as they headed back to the bakery. He glanced at Marinette again, who gripped Manon by the hand, staring at the teddy bear the little girl held like she’d never seen a cuddly toy before. He frowned. Maybe it was just the stress but…Marinette didn’t seem herself.

They walked in silence, occasionally interrupted by August gurgling for attention. Even without words, it was clear what he wanted. Food. Sleep. And the one thing they couldn’t give him – his mother.

When they hit the bakery, Adrien stood back, letting Marinette open the door even though he could do it himself. It was already strange enough having stopped by earlier to drop off the trolley, bringing supplies upstairs as if he’d lived there for years.

Inside, she let out a sigh. ‘Home, sweet home.’

‘Sorry I didn’t manage to unpack everything earlier.’ He gestured at the abandoned trolley taking up the middle of the bakery floor. ‘I wanted to get back to you with your, um…your clothes.’

Her cheeks darkened, and he felt his warm, too. The image filled his mind against his will, of her standing there in nothing but a towel. He’d covered his eyes pretty quickly but…not quickly enough.

‘It, um.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It’s fine. We’re all exhausted. We can just…deal with it tomorrow.’

She turned with Manon, and he followed them up the stairs. It should’ve felt weird, just the two of them in the apartment by themselves, with a pair of kids. Like they were married parents, when they weren’t even dating. But it felt like coming home…something he’d never really felt whenever he went back to the mansion. That was a cold oversized house, an absent father, a missing mother. And this….

August’s gurgling had turned into loud whining, accompanied by a lot of wriggling, almost struggling in his arms. Adrien held him more firmly, so he didn’t tumble backwards with him down the stairs. As soon as they made it to the living room, he sat with him on the sofa.

‘Hey, hey, shhh. ’ He tried tickling the boy, but that only made him cry.

Manon broke away from Marinette and sat on the floor, pulling out her game console and leaning on the coffee table with it, already absorbed in silent play. It had been two days without their parents and the little girl didn’t seem remotely fazed.

Adrien glanced back at August. Somehow, the crying jag didn’t seem so bad. At least he understood it.

He wiped at August's cheeks. ‘Hey, hey, listen. I know you want your mother. I…I get that. But she…had to go away for a little bit and…she’ll be back, I’m sure of it.’ His heart stabbed with guilt. He wasn’t sure of this at all – wasn’t sure of anything. Who was he to make such promises?

None of it was helping, anyway. And August was too young to understand.

Adrien stood up. ‘I think everyone’s hungry.’

Marinette didn’t answer. She was standing beside Manon, still staring at that teddy bear.

‘Right. Well. I guess I’ll…make dinner, then.’ It was okay. It was good. Something to focus on, something to do. A challenge, too. Being raised with a personal chef didn’t exactly prepare you for a situation like this.

He moved into the kitchen area and stared at the items he’d brought up earlier, from their trip to the Monoprix. They all just looked like things…square boxes, round pots, bags, bottles. Somehow, he had to open them and put things together and make something everyone would like, and August was crying for real now and was maybe in danger of rolling off the sofa in his distress and Manon was either unaware of what was happening or in a total state of traumatic shock and Marinette was –

‘Adrien.’

Here. Right here. Touching my shoulder.

She stepped in front of him, her eyes warm. ‘Breathe.’

He nodded, taking one long, slow breath after another until he felt a little calmer. He glanced sideways, into the living room area. Marinette had set up the kids with paper and pencils. August’s tears had quieted.

How long had he been staring at the groceries like a crazy person?

When Marinette released him, it felt like something had been removed from him, like he was a little lighter – like she’d taken some of his stress. Hopefully not onto herself.

She started digging through the supplies, opening bags, making sandwiches.

Sandwiches. He could do that. Why the hell had it seemed like such a big deal before?

He touched his hand to his forehead, steadying himself, then started helping her. Once he settled into a rhythm…it was nice, working together with her like that. Not like the ice of the mansion, where everyone went their separate ways to do their own things. How good it would be to come home each day to someone like Marinette – a real friend, someone he could discuss things with and make decisions with, as a team. Someone warm and kind and beautiful, who –

‘What’s on your mind?’ Marinette asked.

He jumped, nearly slicing his own finger with the knife he was using to cut a tomato. ‘N-nothing.’

Her brow lifted.

‘Okay, actually, I was just….’ He finished the tomato and set down the knife. ‘I was just thinking this is nice.’

She frowned.

‘I-it is nice…isn’t it? I mean…maybe you don’t think it is. Of course you don’t think it is. I mean, we’re trapped in an inexplicable bubble and have no gas or electricity or running water, and we’re looking after these kids, and our parents are gone, and…. ’ Yeah, the more he said this out loud, what the hell was nice about it? What did it say about his former life that any of this felt good?

And those kids had died – the girl – the baby. Laurent had almost…. 

He ran a hand over his hair – hair that wasn’t nearly as clean as he’d like, especially in front of her. ‘I, um. I just mean. This. Right now. This moment is, um. N-nice. God, for having no heating, it’s really hot in here, don’t you think?’ He fanned himself.

Her mouth twitched. ‘I…think I understand.’

That was a relief. Even he hardly understood what he was trying to say.

She looked away, piecing together the sandwiches with him. Then he helped her carry the plates over to the kids and they sat down to eat. Every movement Marinette made belied her exhaustion. She was slow, to move and to respond, staring at her sandwich like she’d forgotten what to do with it – then staring at that teddy bear again.

Adrien held up a sandwich for August, helping him eat one tiny bite at a time. At this rate, they’d be there all night. He ate his own makeshift dinner in between, casting his mind back to his own childhood. Did his father ever do this with him sometimes? If so, he couldn’t remember it.

His gaze drifted to Manon’s picture. She was still drawing, gripping her pencil so tight that her knuckles had gone white, scribbling hard hard on the page, all in black. On the table were other drawings…also covered in hasty black scribbles, with spots of lurid green, bright and sickly.

Dread pooled in his core. It was just pencil on paper, but…something about it felt almost alive , like it was…watching them. A vision filled his head, of leaping up and swiping the pencil away from her, shouting at her to stop that before she ‘let it in’. His veins tingled and he stared at his hands, expecting to see that awful black aura. But there was nothing but his sandwich.

He swallowed. Why was he so jumpy?

Because you watched a boy get shot and nearly die. You saw Marinette covered head to toe in blood. You’ve seen two children be buried.

But…no, this was…this was different. Manon looked so…intense about her work. And when he looked at Marinette…she felt it too. Her body had gone rigid, her skin pale. August was trembling, his eyes large and haunted as he stared at the drawings.

‘Manon….’ Marinette’s voice was shaky. ‘W-what is that in your…in your pictures?’

Adrien didn’t expect the girl to reply, but she did. ‘Darkness.’ Her voice was deadpan, at odds with her childish pronunciation.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Marinette almost dropped what remained of her sandwich. ‘Wh-what did you say?’

‘Darkness,’ Manon repeated, a little louder. ‘Hungry.’

A shiver ran down Adrien’s spine. ‘If you’re hungry…why don’t you eat your sandwich?’

Marinette nodded and took Manon’s hand, trying to pry the pencil from her. Manon resisted, but Marinette pulled harder, then picked up the plate and set it on top of the latest drawing. 

Sealing it in. Adrien shook away the crazy thought. 

Marinette grabbed the other sheets of paper and stuffed them underneath the table. ‘Come on. You need to eat.’ She picked up the sandwich and put it in Manon's hands.

Manon blinked at it…then slowly began pulling apart the bread and placing little bits into her mouth.

Adrien released a silent breath of relief and focused on August again. But every bite he tried to navigate into the boy’s mouth was met with stubborn refusal and floods of tears. Adrien sighed and pushed the plate away, standing and gathering the inconsolable toddler into his arms. ‘I’m going to put him to bed. Maybe after Manon’s finished, you could…get her to bed, too?’

Marinette nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. That…sounds good. Th-thanks.’

‘It’s no problem. Besides, August and I have bonded, haven’t we.’ He nudged August’s chin, but the boy just kept crying. At least he wasn’t struggling. He looked too tired for that.

I know the feeling.

He carried August into the kitchen, to grab a bottle of water, then headed up the steps. Only after he was in Marinette’s room did it hit him how strange it was, just letting himself in there, as if it were his room too. Up until two days ago, he’d only been there a handful of times, and now he was just…making himself at home.

It was getting dark out, so he switched on the torch they’d left up there, bringing it to the floor, where he sat down on the bedding they’d left there in the morning.

As August’s cries got louder, Adrien wrestled with the water bottle, trying to get the lid off with only one hand. After some manoeuvring, he got it open and gently put it to the boy’s lips, helping him drink until he pushed at the bottle, making it splash on Adrien’s lap. Adrien caught it before it could go all over the floor, then had a drink himself. Then drank longer. He hadn’t realised how dehydrated he was.

The hatch popped open and Marinette looked in. ‘Everything okay?’

Not really, but Adrien smiled faintly and nodded. ‘Yep, I’ve got it all under control, don’t you worry.’

She gave him a thin smile, the kind that said he hadn’t fooled her. ‘I’ll get Manon changed downstairs, then bring her up.’

Adrien nodded. It was happening again. They were working together, each of them taking one of the kids, like this was…a family . A word he’d started to forget the meaning of.

When she was gone, he let out a long breath and laid August down on the floor before rummaging through the baby supplies he’d brought up earlier, doing his best to tune out the crying. He’d never changed a nappy in his life, and yesterday they’d only had towels to work with. When he pulled out one of the proper nappies, he stared at it, figuring it out, then went to work, cleaning August as best he could. Sometimes August kicked his arm, pushing him away, but he carried on, undoing and redoing the tapes of the new nappy to get the right fit. There was no point in telling August to stop or calm down. The boy just needed sleep.

When August was changed and in his night clothes, Adrien stared around the room. Maybe he should…read him a book or something but…that would probably make things worse. So he cradled him in his arms, gently stroking his back and rocking him the way he remembered his mother doing when he was a little boy. He could hear her voice in his head.

‘It’s okay. Sometimes, you just need to cry.’

A tear had slipped down his own cheek…then another…and….

He pressed August to his chest, crying along with him, both of them probably longing for the same thing. When the boy finally fell asleep on his shoulder, Adrien’s nerves seemed to sigh, grateful for the sudden silence.

Yet, he carried on rocking him. There was something nice about holding him like that. A little like it was nice making sandwiches with Marinette.

As if aware that he was thinking about her, Marinette softly pushed open the hatch in the floor, climbing into the room with Manon, all changed for bed. She glanced at August in his arms, then gave him a warm, tired smile. Like she understood.

She helped Manon into her sleeping bag. ‘Would you like a story?’

Manon didn’t reply.

Marinette didn’t push it. She looked too tired to read, anyway. She tucked Manon in, then hovered over her, hesitating…like maybe she was trying to work out whether she should give her a kiss on the forehead or something. She wasn’t exactly their child but…it had to be strange no longer receiving that kind of affection.

Adrien took that as his cue to put August to bed, too. He slowly laid him in the bedding, pulling it up around his chest. August made a little noise, shook out one of his arms, then settled in, oblivious to the world.

Once Manon nodded off, it would be…just the two of them.

Marinette was at her dresser, pulling out her clothes for the night. ‘I, um. I’m going to go get changed and…come to bed. I know it’s not late yet but…I’m shattered and….’

He nodded, also shattered.

When she’d left the room, he located his bag and pulled out his own pyjamas. Somewhere in the middle of changing his shirt, it hit him that Marinette was somewhere else in the house, getting undressed and –

The hatch opened and he quickly pulled his top down, making his expression look as not ‘I was just having possibly inappropriate thoughts about you’ as he could. Which probably looked like he was absolutely having inappropriate thoughts about her.

‘H-hey.’ He rubbed the back of his neck, shooting her a lopsided smile.

‘...hey.’ She looked up, at her loft bed.

Oh. Right. With Alya and Nino gone tonight, she could sleep up there. Which was…good because he was…he was just a guest and…. ‘Maybe I could sleep on the chaise,’ he said.

At the same time, Marinette blurted, ‘Do you mind if I sleep with you?’

He blinked at her.

Her face went as red as those tomatoes he’d been cutting earlier. ‘I mean, could we sleep together? I mean…on the floor. Ohmygod.’ She let out a breath. ‘Like last night, could we sleep next to each other but at a reasonable distance and –’

‘Marinette.’

‘Y-yeah?’

‘I…knew what you meant about fifteen seconds ago. And…y-yeah, that…sounds good. I mean…we should probably keep a close eye on the kids, anyway…right?’

‘R-right. The…the kids.’ She glanced at them like she’d forgotten they existed. Then she turned away from him and lay on her mat on the floor, pulling up the blanket they’d shared the night before. 

He did the same, taking the other half of the blanket. Then they lay side by side, neither of them moving, eyes on the ceiling.

She shot him a swift glance. ‘G-goodnight.’

‘...goodnight.’ He reached over and switched off the torch, plunging them into near-darkness.

He carried on staring at the ceiling, tracing the shapes of the wooden beams. It was so small up there, compared to his bedroom at the mansion. But a good kind of small. Just enough space to move around, but close enough to feel secure, like the walls were comforting them.

Shifting, he rolled onto his side. The sound of Marinette’s breathing was hypnotic, a gentle rhythm that slowed down, down, as she drifted off quickly. August and Manon, too. They’d gone to some other place, and now it was just him…and his thoughts.

Each time he blinked, images flashed behind his eyes. Marinette covered in blood. Marinette in that towel. Marinette staring at that teddy bear. Manon’s drawings.

The drawings, most of all. Only, now, the black scribbles were moving, spiralling around the page – lifting off. They swirled towards him, reaching for him like tentacles, slinking around his body and encircling his throat.

‘Darkness.’ Manon’s voice, but…he couldn’t see her anywhere. He couldn’t see anyone. He was completely alone.

His hands went to his neck, grabbing at the tentacles. But they held fast, making it hard to breathe. His legs thrashed, even though that wouldn’t help. The tentacles gave a hard pull, and he was tugged across the floor, dragged into a gaping pit of black, like the pupil of an eye so large that he couldn’t see the whole thing.

Then – light, a sickly fluorescent green that shouldn’t exist on Earth, a colour you’d never find even in the most generous crayon box. And in the light, he saw his skin, everywhere the tentacles had touched him. It fizzed and bubbled with black. Death – or maybe a complete absence of life – crawled over his skin, like he was being devoured by nothingness, or being….

Cataclysmed.

His blood ran cold, and he went limp with surrender. The little girl he’d killed – maybe this was what she’d felt. Maybe this was what had consumed her. Maybe he would be completely erased. Maybe he would –

He jolted and shot upright, gasping for breath – holding his hand to his chest as he panted – confused. Blinking. Remembering.

 A dream. A bad dream. I’m in Marinette’s room. I’m on the floor, and she’s –

Thrashing. She was thrashing around on the floor beside him, whimpering.

He let out a heavy breath, then turned to her. ‘Marinette.’

‘No – no….’

‘Marinette.’

‘No, no! Get it off me! The darkness – no!’

He froze. It was like she was…having the same dream. Which was impossible, but….

So are magic powers and domes cutting you off from the rest of the world.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She let out a cry, fighting him off like she hadn’t woken up yet. He bore through it, holding her close and smoothing down her hair, threading his fingers through its softness. Then he rocked her, like he had with August, only…his heart hadn’t pounded like this then…like it might burst at the sight of her pain. 

As her sounds of protest turned into desperate tears, her arms found their way around his waist and she buried her face in his shoulder, crying. ‘Maman…Maman….’

He tensed. He couldn’t replace her mother any more than he could replace August’s. But he could hold her. For her sake and for his.

When the tears stopped, she hung in his arms a little longer – then pulled away. Awake, now. Even with only the moonlight beaming through the window, her eyes called to him. She wiped them with her hands. ‘I’m…I’m sorry,’ she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

‘Don’t be,’ he whispered back. ‘You can cry on me anytime you want.’

She let out a broken sound that might have been a half-laugh, then dragged her hands over her face.

‘Do you…want to talk about it?’

‘I…I don’t know. I….’ She let out a long breath. ‘I saw it again…the gun…the b-blood…the boy. And then it…it changed and…this is going to sound so stupid but…it was like Manon’s weird drawing downstairs had…come to life or something, and….’

It sounded more awful than she knew. But she didn’t need to hear that. He was supposed to be comforting her. ‘Is that why you wanted to sleep with me? I mean….’ He shook his head. It didn’t matter. She knew what he meant.

She nodded. ‘All d-day I just…I keep seeing it and…I don’t know if I’ll ever stop seeing it.’ She was crying again now, her shoulders shaking, her voice rising in pitch. ‘I’m…s-scared to sleep. What if I dream about it again? What if I can’t get out and it just goes on and –’

‘Hey, listen – no.’ He took her hand, pressing it. ‘You’re not there anymore – okay? You’re here. And I’m here with you.’

‘You’re…you’re here with me.’ She let out a hiccupping sob. 

‘That’s right. And I’m going to stay here with you…all night.’ Without thinking, he pulled her back into his arms, holding her close, choking down his own tears. ‘You’re safe, Marinette. I – I’ve got you.’

Her arms went around him in return, her face close to his heart, which was beating in triple time – partly because of what they were doing and partly because he’d just lied to her. Just as he’d lied to August about his mother coming back soon. Who was he to say that anyone was returning or anyone was safe?

He rested his chin on the top of her head, nearly kissing her hair, then – holding back. Definitely holding back. Then somehow they were lying back down, curled up together. She nestled in against him, like they did this every night. Soon, her breathing had steadied, her chest rising and falling slowly against his.

Then he closed his eyes, letting the darkness take him again.

Chapter Text

Waking up on the morning of the third day – their second full day without adults – was just as disorienting and gut-wrenching as the previous morning. Marinette’s body was heavy, almost sinking into the mat on the floor, and she couldn’t make herself open her eyes. This time, though…she also felt hollow. Numb. Her eyes welled as memories of the past couple days pressed down on her – but she didn’t cry. She’d been wrung dry of all tears – for now, anyway.

The girl in the fire. The baby up on the tower. Those kids they’d rescued from the apartment. The teddy bear.

A deafening bang. Laurent screaming in pain. And the blood, the blood, the blood that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard she scrubbed.

Then…black tentacles suffocating her, choking her, dragging her down into the darkness –

Adrien had held her as she sobbed and struggled for air, as she tried to reach the surface. It had just been a nightmare. The scribbles on the paper…they were just that – scribbles. They didn’t move, let alone suffocate people. It wasn’t real.

But the girl’s face, blackened and burnt…the tiny, unmoving form of the baby in his swaddle…Laurent’s screams as she bent over his body, blood pouring past her fingers…all of it had been.

There were arms around her now, too. Adrien’s arms. She was curled up against his chest. They’d fallen asleep like this, although she couldn’t remember drifting off.

It was incredible how their relationship had changed so radically in just forty-eight hours. She could actually speak to him now. She felt comfortable with him, physically and emotionally, in a way she never had before. Vulnerable. And it was obvious he did, too.  

If only it were under different circumstances. If only the world was still normal. If only her parents were still here.

But if the adults hadn’t disappeared…would the two of them still be like this? Would they have ever gotten this…this close?

Perhaps sensing her tumultuous thoughts, Adrien stirred, and she tensed, her breath catching in her throat. But then he went still again, letting out a soft, slow breath. Asleep, still.

Does he realise it? Does he realise things have changed?

If he did…it didn’t matter. He only saw her as a friend.

And we have other things to worry about now. So much else to worry about.

All she wanted was to remain curled up at his side, her cheek on his shoulder. But when he stirred again, she pulled back slightly to give him space and blinked open her eyes.

His were already open, that brilliant green she loved so much. Their faces were still so close to each other. For a moment, she watched the memories play out in them as he caught his bearings, and then she pulled back further, heat creeping up her neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

He blinked at her, his eyes tired. ‘For what?’ He kept his voice low, too.

She averted her gaze, focusing on the threads of the blanket around her torso. Papa’s blanket. ‘I…I woke you up. Last night.’

He shook his head. ‘Marinette….you’ve got nothing to apologise for.’

‘But…you were sleeping, and –’

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘I couldn’t sleep, anyway.’

They were both silent under the weight of all that had transpired yesterday, neither of them moving.

‘What are we going to do today?’ she asked.

Adrien rubbed at his eyes. ‘Eat breakfast – that’s the first thing. And then…then I guess get ourselves and the kids dressed and…and check out what’s going on. Go back to the daycare. And….’ He swallowed. ‘We should probably go see how Laurent is.’

Oh. A lump welled up in her throat. ‘Y-yeah. We should.’

They didn’t move, though. There was no point in waking up August and Manon when they were still asleep – when they were, at least temporarily, at peace. It might be the only time all day that they were calm, not upset and afraid.

Although she’d moved away a little, Marinette’s shoulder brushed Adrien’s, her skin tingling even through the two layers of clothing separating them. Did he feel it, too – that urge to put their arms back around each other, to hold on tight and never let go?

‘Day three,’ Adrien whispered, his eyes on the ceiling. ‘I can’t believe it. It feels like it’s been weeks, not days.’ He lifted an arm and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh.

‘What if…what if someone else….’ She couldn’t get the words out, her throat clogging up. Her eyes prickled, and she rubbed at them. ‘I c-can’t, I – I won’t be able to, n-not again –’  

‘Hey….’ Adrien twisted around and found her hand, squeezing it tightly. He pulled her closer, his free arm wrapping around her back, holding her as he had the night before.

She clenched her eyes shut, burying her face in his neck.

‘Marinette, I – I can’t promise you that – that no one is going to….’ She felt a shudder run through him. ‘But…I’m here. Whatever we face, we’ll face it together .’

His words from last night echoed in her mind. You’re safe, Marinette. I’ve got you.

She wasn’t safe. None of them were. But…she had Adrien. They had each other. And when he held her like this – when she breathed him in, her eyes closed – it was so easy to believe she was.

A cry broke through the silence – August’s. Adrien gave her one last squeeze, and then, reluctantly, they pulled apart, sitting up. With silent understanding, he went over to tend to August, and when Manon woke up a moment later and sat up silently in her makeshift bed, Marinette went to her. While Adrien quietened August down and got him changed, Marinette took Manon downstairs.

As she helped Manon into her clothes and got started on breakfast, she couldn’t help but reflect on how bizarre it was to be getting ready like this. Running the house. As if they were adults. As if they were parents . And yet, in a strange way...they’d accepted it. Fallen into a routine, a rhythm, as if they did this every day. As nice as it was…it was also unsettling. She never wanted this to begin to feel normal.

But she also didn’t want to fall apart. She didn’t want to hurt endlessly. And if she didn’t do something, if she didn’t get up and move, if she fell out of the rhythm…. 

Manon had her teddy bear with her. Marinette kept her eyes averted, mentally scolding herself for being so pathetic. It’s just a normal stuffed toy. It’s not going to bite. It’s not going to –

She scanned the room for something to entertain Manon with while she prepared breakfast. Her gaze fell on the paper and pencils shoved under the coffee table, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. No. Not drawing.

The video game console was on the couch, left there the night before. Marinette settled Manon there and got started on cutting up some fruit and bread – not toast, just bread, with spreads and biscuits. As she was finishing up, Adrien came downstairs with August.

They were mostly silent as they ate around the coffee table. August looked tired, subdued, even though as far as she knew he’d slept the whole night through. It was at least better than crying, but seeing his rosy cheeks and half-closed eyes as he slowly nibbled on a biscuit sent a pang through her.

‘Do you think we’ll be able to use the bath upstairs, at the daycare, to give the kids a bath tonight?’ she said softly. All babies liked baths. And Manon…well…she’d appreciate it too, in her own way.

Adrien raised his head. ‘I don’t see why not. If there’s still water.’

If there’s still water….

When they’d eaten and packed, they headed for the daycare. It was quiet outside, the streets cast in that same, unnerving sunlight from the previous morning.

August took little steps today, his tiny hand grasping Adrien’s fingers. Did he realise, in his own way, just how different the streets were? How abnormal? Or was he too young?

Did Manon? Did she even know her mother was gone? Did it bother her at all that she’d now spent two nights away from home? 

If anything, she probably appreciated the silence now. The peace. No cars or people. No sudden beeping of horns or fellow pedestrians shoving past in their haste to get to wherever they were heading. The four of them were alone on the street, their footsteps soft on the pavement and tarmac. It wasn’t that early. But there was no school or work to wake up for. Nothing to be late to.

‘Everything is so quiet,’ Adrien nearly whispered. ‘Like something out of a zombie film.’

‘I’ve…never seen any. I don’t like scary films.’

‘Well…I guess we’re living through one, now.’

At the daycare, the big open space was packed with kids – kids sitting around, kids playing with toys, kids reading books. Some appeared happy. Others kept looking around, as if they expected their parents to appear to collect them, their faces falling with fresh disappointment each time. 

Thank goodness Manon didn’t seem too bothered by the loud chatter and movement. She stared at the console clenched tightly in one hand. The screen had gone black, its battery flat. Maybe she was imagining the game’s visuals in her head.

‘Hey, there’s Ivan and Mylene.’ Adrien pointed to them, seated in a corner with a few children. He headed towards them, and she followed. 

‘Hey Mylene, hey Ivan.’ He waved at them.

‘Hey.’ Mylene gave them a small smile, then yawned. ‘Sorry…didn’t sleep much….’

Ivan flashed them a brief smile before focusing his attention on the toddler sitting beside him, a girl holding out a toy horse. In Ivan’s hand was a miniature toy brush.

‘Did you…stay the night, too?’ Marinette asked.

Mylene nodded and yawned again. ‘We came over to see how things were going, and, well…Alya and Nino really needed help. So we decided to stay – at least for now. Someone needs to look after all these kids until the adults come back, and…why not us?’ She looked up fondly at Ivan, placing a hand on his knee. ‘Ivan’s so good with them.’

Ivan didn’t reply, all his concentration on brushing the horse’s mane. His posture had a heaviness to it, his shoulders slightly hunched.

He had dug the graves.

Marinette’s heart sank down to her stomach.

Mylene was looking at August, who’d sat down and reached for the nearest toy – some sort of baby fidget ball. ‘Who’s this little guy?’

‘August,’ Adrien said. ‘We found him near the Eiffel Tower. Marinette knows his mother, and….’

‘Oh…and this is…Manon, maybe?’

Marinette nodded. Manon had sat down, too, her head down, gaze still on the console.

‘Do you know her?’ asked Adrien.

Mylene shook her head. ‘But Marinette’s told me about her before.’ She narrowed her eyes at the little girl, some question in her head, then looked up at them again. ‘Anyway…Alya and Nino are in the dining room, if you want to see them. You can leave the kids with us, if you like. I mean…I assume that’s what you were planning to do?’

Marinette exchanged a look with Adrien, then gave a soft nod. ‘Thanks.’

‘It’s what we’re here for.’ Mylene gave them another tired smile.

It felt wrong, just leaving their friends with the children…yet a relief, too. In the dining hall, several dozen kids were eating breakfast. Bread with spreads, and cereal – with shelf milk – for some of the older kids.

They found Alya at the far end, talking to a little boy around four years old. Behind her, the door that led to the kitchen area was open, giving a clear view of boxes and piles of food and supplies Marinette and Adrien had collected the day before.

 ‘I don’t want cornflakes!’ the boy was crying. ‘I want Miel Pops! Maman always gives me Miel Pops!’

Alya ran a hand through her hair and pushed her glasses up. ‘Today it’s cornflakes. And then… tomorrow we can open the Miel Pops.’

The boy’s mouth hung open, maybe about to argue further. Then he took the bowl Alya was holding out and started eating.

When she saw Adrien and Marinette, Alya let out a shaky exhale. ‘Hey, guys. It’s good to see you.’ She hugged them both. ‘Sleep okay?’

They exchanged another glance, the memory of last night racing through Marinette’s mind – the nightmare, but also, falling asleep in his arms.

Adrien shrugged. ‘Not really. You?’

Alya let out a humourless laugh. ‘With all these kids around? I mean, Ivan and Mylene helped, but…the babies cried all night. If it wasn’t one, it was another. And so many kids were up with nightmares, calling for their parents….’ She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away.

Marinette blinked away the tears already forming in her eyes. ‘Als….’

‘It’s fine,’ Alya said, but the exhaustion was showing itself in the bags under her eyes, in the paleness of her skin. ‘Anyway, I’m guessing you guys want to leave Manon and August here again?’

She said it like they were two parents dropping their kids off at daycare before heading to work. Marinette’s stomach twisted, and she looked at Adrien.

‘We don’t want to add more to your plate,’ he said.

Alya gave him a weak smile. ‘What’s two more kids? Besides, Mylene and Ivan are helping out, now.’

Two more people. That made four of them, now. Just four, to look after… all these kids…. 

Nino emerged in the kitchen doorway, a sandwich in hand. ‘Oh, hey, dudes.’ He handed the sandwich to Alya, giving her a kiss on the cheek, then hugged Adrien.

‘You looked wrecked,’ Adrien said when they pulled apart.

‘You too, dude. Where are you guys headed today? Getting more supplies?’

Adrien’s smile wobbled. ‘Actually, we…wanted to check on Laurent. Do you know where he is now?’

Nino’s normally cheery expression froze before evening out again. ‘I, uh…I heard he got taken to the pharmacy. I guess they’re turning it into a kind of, um. A kind of hospital.’

A hospital . Only day three and they needed a hospital .

‘Th-thanks,’ Adrien made out. ‘So, I guess we’re…going to the pharmacy.’

There was an awkward silence, none of them knowing quite what to say. Marinette stared at her feet, sore and tired from walking so much in the last few days. A hospital. A hospital….

Adrien touched her shoulder, making her jolt, then dropped his hand, an apologetic look on his face. ‘Maybe we should…get going now.’

‘...r-right.’ She forced a smile, and they said their goodbyes, letting him lead the way out of the daycare. It seemed both of them were avoiding looking at the kids – trying not to think about the day their friends had ahead of them.

Just four people….

Only when they left the daycare did she realise she’d been holding her breath. Now, she released it, and Adrien flashed her a lopsided small that said he understood.

In the time they’d been inside the daycare, more kids had woken up and headed outside. There were several dozen in the park, and outside Kim’s café a few kids sat at tables, eating breakfast.

‘We could go there later, for lunch,’ Adrien said.

She nodded. It was hard to imagine eating anything right now, with her stomach in knots.

The knots grew tighter as they neared the pharmacy. She’d never thought much about the place before. It was just somewhere to get medication. You saw them everywhere. But her heart raced when she spotted the big green cross above the door – usually bright and glowing, but now dull and dark.

A bell dinged as they pushed open the front door and entered the store. Like the sign, the place was dark, only a dim light coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front. There were no other customers. There were no staff.

As they walked through rows of shelves, she shivered. It was so eerie, like the supermarkets. Worse, even. No one was monitoring the medications anymore. And when they passed the first aid section, it was a mess, boxes scattered all over the floor, like someone had been in a hurry.

Like someone had been in trouble.  

Rose appeared in an open doorway behind the counter. ‘Oh! Marinette! Adrien! How good to see you!’

Marinette took a step back, startled, then remembered. Rose and Juleka…Luka had said something about them looking after Laurent, hadn’t he.

‘H-hey,’ she croaked out, while Adrien gave an awkward wave beside her.

Despite her usual enthusiasm, Rose’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and her hair stuck up at the back. She looked different somehow, from when they’d seen her at the café yesterday. It wasn’t anything physical, more like…she’d seen things she’d never wanted to see.

She leaned on the counter. ‘Have you come to see Laurent?’

Adrien nodded. ‘How…how is he?’

Her expression was pained. ‘Come see.’

Marinette tensed. The last time they’d seen the boy, he’d been lying on that blood-soaked ground, unconscious.

What - what if he didn't survive the night?

They followed Rose to the back of the pharmacy, to a storage room lined with shelves of stock. Marinette gasped when they saw Laurent. He lay on the floor, on a camping mat, a blanket covering him to his chest. Beside him, Juleka sat cross-legged, fiddling with a rolled-up bandage. She looked up when they entered and gave a nod of greeting.

Marinette’s mouth had gone dry. Somehow, Laurent looked younger than he had yesterday. Very young. He was alive, but his skin was ashen, his eyes closed. His mouth was slightly parted, and there was a faint rasping sound coming from his lips.

The image of all that blood filled her mind again…of leaning over him as he screamed, the ringing deafening in her ears.

Adrien’s hand was suddenly in hers. She was shaking. He squeezed her hand, and she gripped it tightly, grounding her in the present. She tore her eyes away from Laurent and focused on Rose.

‘We’ve been keeping an eye on him all night,’ Rose said, keeping her voice low. ‘He…he hasn’t really woken up, but he was moaning earlier, calling for his…his mother. He’s still in pain.’

At her words, Laurent let out a whimper, squirming. ‘No. No, please , I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to …I’m not a freak….’ He trailed off, his forehead pulled together in pain. Probably not just physical.

Rose looked away, her eyes haunted. Some of her rosiness had faded. She and Juleka had probably sat on the floor here all night, listening to Laurent cry out in pain, unable to do anything about it.

For the second time, Marinette’s eyes prickled, and she clenched Adrien’s hand tighter.

Rose swallowed, as though bracing herself for what she was about to say, and almost whispered the words. ‘…he keeps going on about…about powers .’

On the floor, Juleka hugged her knees to her chest.

Adrien tensed. ‘P-powers?’

Rose nodded solemnly.

‘Everyone’s talking about it,’ Juleka mumbled, her gaze on the floor.

Rose nodded again. ‘I went to Kim’s Café earlier to get us breakfast, and…it’s all people were saying. Michel – he’s the one who…who….’ She glanced at Laurent. ‘He says Laurent can – can summon things. Like, to his hand. Just by thinking about it. That was what started the…the incident.’

Incident. The word was cold in its inadequacy.

‘So you’re saying he has…magic powers,’ Adrien said.

Rose shrugged. ‘...I guess?’ She let out a funny sort of laugh. ‘And I thought this couldn’t get weirder….’

‘Do you think…do you think other people have powers, too?’

Maybe it was just imagination but…Juleka flinched.

Rose bit her lip. ‘That’s what everyone’s saying. I heard someone say they saw a girl’s arms stretch out to twice their length, like one of those toys kids play with.’

Stretch her arms…. Marinette swallowed, now trembling as hard as Adrien.

She forced her hand to loosen, desperate to change the subject. ‘Thank you for…for looking after him.’ She nodded at Laurent. Even as she said the words, she realised how odd they sounded. As if she were a leader, someone responsible, an adult praising a child. But she wasn’t. She was just as scared and confused as everyone else. It wasn’t like she’d assigned Rose and Juleka to being – being nurses.

‘Can you let us know if… when… he wakes up fully?’ Adrien asked.

When she looked up at him, it was clear on his face that he heard it too. Heard the strangeness of his request, as if anyone reported to him.

Rose gave them a soft nod. ‘Of course.’

‘Thanks….’ He looked down at Marinette, something passing between them. It was hard to know which of them needed to get out of there faster. He looked back at Rose. ‘Well…it was good to…to see you.’

She beamed them both one of her trademark Rose smiles. ‘It was good to see you, too. Please, stop by anytime.’

They nodded and headed out, no one commenting on the implication of Rose’s words – that she and Juleka might be there a long time.

Without discussion, they were heading back to Place des Vosges. Others had the same idea, people congregating there again, like they had yesterday.

Dozens of eyes followed them as they moved through the park. After two days, people were already beginning to look dishevelled. Hair was messy, clothes were wrinkled and dirty, and some kids had removed their shoes. There were a few dogs out too, sniffing the trunks of trees or sitting on the grass, masterless.

‘I know we’ve barely got started, but I’m already wrecked,’ Adrien said.

‘Me too. It’s been a…long few days.’

He released a heavy sigh and stopped at one of the fountains, dry now.

Her mind flashed back to that day last year, when she’d run – well, crashed –  into Adrien whilst wearing nothing but her pyjamas. His bodyguard had been trying to find him, and they’d run off to hide together, ending up at the bottom of this same fountain. Then they’d gone to see the film Adrien’s mother had starred in, Solitude . A strange thing she hadn’t really understood but…the look on Adrien’s face as he’d watched his mother on that screen….

He nudged her shoulder, snapping her out of the memory. ‘Is it just me or…are a lot of people staring at us?’ His voice was low, like he worried people were listening in.

She surveyed the park. He was right. Kids were blatantly staring.

Whispers reached her ears.

She saved him.

Where’d he get the gun?

I heard he’s not the only one with powers….

Adrien saved that girl, too….

A familiar face emerged from the crowd – Nathaniel, closely followed by Marc.

‘Hey,’ Nathaniel greeted them.

‘Hey,’ they returned in unison.

‘So….’ Nathaniel stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘What’s the plan for today?’

‘The…plan?’ Marinette echoed. 

‘Yeah. Are we doing the same as yesterday? You know…looking for people?’

She glanced at Adrien, who looked as confused as she felt, then back at Nathaniel. ‘Why would we know?’

Nathaniel’s face fell, and he exchanged a look with Marc, who appeared just as disappointed. ‘Oh. Sorry if I misunderstood but…. I mean, we were looking for Luka – you know, the blue-haired guitar dude? He gave us instructions yesterday but…I think he’s gone to the hospital or something, to check on that magical kid, and we just thought, while he’s gone, you two are….’

Every word was sharp in her chest – especially the last two, the ones he didn’t say.

…in charge.

Adrien sighed. ‘Listen, we’re not –’

He was cut off by a little boy, maybe eight years old, approaching and tugging on his shirt. ‘Where are the adults?’ the boy asked.

Adrien stared down at him like he’d never seen a child before. ‘I – we don’t know. We –’

‘Is it true some people have powers?’ someone else called out.

‘W-what?’

‘Is he dangerous?’ came another voice.

‘Are there more of them?’

‘Are the powers related to all the adults disappearing?’

‘When are our parents coming back?’

‘Is Laurent going to die?’

‘Are the aliens giving people magic?’

‘Can I go to the Champs Elysees?’

‘I want my dad!’

Marinette drew closer to Adrien, clasping hands with him for the second time, their shoulders pressed together. A crowd had gathered around them without them realising, closing in like hyaenas, all of them calling out, demanding answers.

Her temples throbbed, the tears in danger of spilling out. She didn’t have the answers. She didn’t know what was going on.

‘Listen,’ Adrien said. When the questions kept coming, he dropped Marinette’s hand and climbed onto the rim of the fountain. ‘LISTEN!’

The park fell silent, everyone staring up at him. They wore matching expressions of expectation, like their leader had just taken his place.

He swallowed, his posture awkward, and he jumped down to be on a level with them all again. ‘Listen. I’m not – we’re not – we’re not in charge, here. We know just as much as you do.’

A lie. Because they were keeping quiet about the other powers they knew of. And about the dome. She met Adrien’s eyes, understanding passing between them. We need to tell them. People need to know about the dome. 

Her chest tightened at a flash of blue, weaving through the crowd – Luka . Luka, who knew Adrien was lying, knew there was so much more to this crazy story they’d wound up in.

He fought his way through until he’d reached them, standing by Adrien’s side. Adrien threw him a look of gratitude.

Luka gave a soft nod, then surveyed the mob. ‘What Adrien’s saying is there’s still so much we don’t know. But we need to focus on what we do know. This is serious. There are kids out there who need us. We – as many of us as possible – need to split up, search cars and buildings –’

‘Why?’ someone yelled out. ‘What’s the point? The adults will probably be back tomorrow!’

Luka pressed his lips together, then nodded again. ‘I really hope you’re right, but…if you’re not …we need to help. And we need to be careful . We can’t – we can’t play stupid games or do stupid things. People could get hurt. People have gotten hurt.’

The air seemed to grow thicker, an uncomfortable heaviness settling over everyone as they remembered Laurent’s screams. Some people looked guilty – maybe those who’d taken cars on joyrides and smashed store windows.

Then – a sound cut through the silence. A low rumbling…like an engine, maybe. It was faint, at first, but growing louder… closer .

Marinette met Adrien’s eyes, her mouth dry with shock. A car? 

It didn’t sound like it was being driven recklessly. More like someone…knew what they were doing.

When she looked out at the crowd again, their faces were pale, eyes large with expectation. Maybe…maybe Luka was wrong. Maybe they wouldn’t have to wait weeks. Maybe  –

Her logical side told her not to get her hopes up. But her heart was louder, and she turned towards the source of the sound, her breath short and her eyes filling with tears. 

Maman…Papa…!

Chapter Text

As he stood in the park, the crowd of kids closing in on him, Adrien’s shoulders seized up at the sudden sound. A low rumbling…like an engine, maybe. And it was growing louder… closer.

His gaze went to Marinette – a habit, now. An instinct. A need to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, at every moment. A need he hadn’t even noticed sneaking up on him until it was too late to fight it off.

She’d twisted at the waist, turning towards the sound, staring through the open park gates. His heart tumbled. Her eyes glistened and her lips parted, her face stamped with not just curiosity and confusion but hope.

When he tore his eyes from her, scanning the crowd that hemmed them in, everyone wore the same look. Because that sound…that was a car …the smooth hum of a vehicle being handled by someone who knew what they were doing, not some stupid kid with a death wish.

The words seemed to stand on everyone’s lips. Maman…Papa…!

On his other side, Luka had gone still. Only a moment ago, everyone had been shouting out questions and demands. Now, silence reigned, and the purr of the engines grew yet louder.

As if of one mind, all the kids started stampeding out of the park to get a better look. It was like Jagged Stone had just turned up, a celebrity everyone was desperate to see. Adrien grabbed Marinette’s hand before she could get swept away from him in the chaos. They fought their way through the crowd, now spilling out the park gates and milling around outside Kim’s Cafe, then pushed to the front to get a better view.

The cars were slow to appear, taking their time as they rounded the corner, as if the driver at the head of the procession knew they were all waiting with bated breath. As if whoever sat behind that wheel wanted to make an entrance.

The engines were quieter than normal car engines, and somehow strange. Unnatural. Electric. Designed with synthetic sound to alert pedestrians of their arrival. The head car was bright red, like the first spring of blood from a wound. Behind it, following in single file, were two further cars, both the gleaming silver of clouds after a storm. All three were the same model, the logo only vaguely familiar. They were the most ostentatious vehicles Adrien had ever seen, somehow even more imposing than the rare Bentley he’d glimpsed on trips to London.

And the tinted windows hinted that there was someone important hidden in there.

When the cars came to a stop, Adrien’s heart clenched, Lord of the Flies coming to mind. With cars like that…maybe it was the government, or the National Police. They’d probably step out wearing black suits and dark shades and head straight into the park, nosing out trouble. When they saw the crude grave markers, they’d ask what happened. It was only a matter of time before they worked out that Adrien was the one who went into the building with that little girl. With enough interrogation, they’d dig out the truth, just as Luka and Ivan had dug out those graves. They’d learn that Adrien had killed her. They’d learn about the powers. There would be investigations, maybe even experiments….

At best, they would be deeply disappointed with how everyone had managed. He could already hear the admonishment in his head. ‘It hasn’t even been three whole days! How do you already have a graveyard?’

Or maybe…maybe it was his father in one of those cars.

Somehow, this thought was worse than the government taking him in for top-secret experimentation. It hit him with full force – he didn’t want to see his father again. He didn’t want to leave the bakery or the warmth of waking up with Marinette in his arms. Ironic that it took being locked inside a magical dome to feel free – but it was true. And now….

His hand hurt. Marinette was squeezing it hard without noticing what she was doing, tears forming in her eyes. He could almost see the visions of her parents dancing in her mind.

What was he thinking? This wasn’t freedom. Not for her. Probably not for most of the kids surrounding him. Images of all those tiny children in the daycare flashed in his head, guilt churning in his gut.

He jumped back when the car doors popped open, all twelve at the exact same moment, as if someone were…controlling them. Without meaning to, he was holding his breath, his body tensed with anticipation, preparing to see his father, to see some official in a suit or uniform, to see –

Kids. More kids, their age, stepping out of the cars and lining up in front of them, surveying their audience. And not one of them from the driver’s seat. The cars weren’t just electric – they were self-driving.

They were expensive.

How the hell had these kids got hold of them?

Three stepped forward, away from the vehicles, while the others hung back, watching. Their eyes were glued to the boy who stood at the front, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. The kind that made Adrien’s hands itch to punch him without even knowing him.

‘Adrien….’ Marinette’s grip was so tight, she was in danger of breaking his fingers – and for good reason.

Because the boy standing before them could’ve been his long-lost twin.

You heard stories, sometimes, of doppelgangers. Legend told you everyone had one – someone out there who looked just like you. But this was…this was unreal. Almost like staring into a mirror.

There were differences, of course. Okay, the boy had the same blond hair, but it was more straight than curly. And he’d slicked it back, revealing more of his forehead, as if making a show of his intelligence. His eyes, although the same bright green, were searching and suspicious, but also closed off. There was a hardness to him, his face angled where Adrien’s was soft. Plus, he was dressed in almost a full suit – black trousers, a white shirt, a black waistcoat, all crisply pressed. Maybe no one had told him the world had ended and such things no longer mattered.

Adrien’s free hand went to his own hair, feeling the mess. He didn’t even want to look at his clothes. All that modelling he’d done…god, if any of his fans saw him now….

But even in the face of the apocalypse, this new boy held himself like he thought he was being photographed for the front page of a magazine – maybe about escapees from an insane asylum. 

The girl on his right crossed her arms. She had cropped dark hair and penetrating brown eyes, her mouth curved into a bored smirk. She wore a plaid pleated skirt with a matching tie and tailored jacket. In the same outfit, another girl stood on his other side. Her chestnut hair was long, falling past her shoulders, and her eyes were the pale green of young grass, twinkling with derision as she surveyed the crowd.

Adrien looked past the strange trio, at the other kids who leaned against the cars. Every one of them wore the same suit or skirt and jacket combination. Every one of them was in uniform.

Uniforms Adrien recognised. They were all from L’Académie de Jeanne d’Arc, that ultra-elite rich kids school he’d almost been sent to, until his father had changed his mind – literally overnight, as if he’d had a sudden fright. And thank god for that. It had never been Adrien’s first choice. It hadn’t even been Chloe’s.

His doppelganger’s face stretched into a Cheshire cat smile and he spread his arms out in a show of openness. ‘You can all relax now! I have arrived!’ His voice was loud, carrying across the space, like he’d had stage training. Everything about him spoke of theatrics.

Beside him, the dark-haired girl rolled her eyes. But her lips twitched, as if she also found the boy funny. The chestnut-haired girl’s expression didn’t waver.

The boy’s hands dropped, and he frowned, perhaps disappointed that no one had cheered or applauded. Then he smoothed out his smile again, ready to try a new tactic. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Felix Fathom.’

Felix Fathom? He sounded like a Batman supervillain.

Felix gestured at the dark-haired girl. ‘This is the beautiful Kagami Tsurugi.’ He sounded like a magician introducing his assistant.

Kagami lifted one hand in disinterested greeting.

The chestnut-haired girl cleared her throat, reminding him she was there.

Felix glanced at her as if he’d forgotten she existed. ‘Oh, yes, and this is Lila Rossi.’

Lila flashed them all a wide smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Adrien exchanged a look with Marinette. All the hope had drained from her face, a faint sadness in her eyes. Her parents hadn’t returned. Instead, they had… this.

Hands clasped behind his back, Felix stepped forward, inspecting the crowd from left to right. His gaze lingered on Adrien before it tore away, focusing on the other kids. Then he walked into the crowd, and the kids drew aside to give him room. The dazed looks on their faces suggested they didn’t even see what they’d just done.

A small smile played on Felix’s lips. A self-satisfied smile, accompanied by a nod, as if to say, ‘Very good. This is how it should be.’

He lifted his chin, addressing them. ‘You might have worked out that we’re from the academy. Either that or we have the same excellent sense of fashion.’ He grinned.

There were awkward titters of laughter. 

His expression grew serious – like he thought he was acting out a Shakespearean tragedy. ‘You poor, poor children. The adults have disappeared. Your parents have disappeared. And you don’t know how to look after yourselves. Sure, maybe it was fun for the first day – but now the joke has worn thin and you just want your mothers and fathers back. ’ He spoke with an English accent, reminiscent of Adrien’s mother’s accent. Every syllable was delivered with a dose of drama, like he’d rehearsed this speech over and over again.

How condescending. Who the hell did he think he was? Had he waited at the school, planning his arrival? Maybe practised his lines in front of a mirror until he got just the right intonation – just the right movement of his facial muscles?

‘Do you know what happened?’ someone called out.

‘Yeah, where did our parents go?’ another cried.

Felix looked down at them, his own eyes large with the appearance of empathy. ‘I’m so sorry to say that I don’t know any more than you do. But what I do know is how you all must be feeling – the sorrow – the fear. Yes, Felix feels this too.’ He pounded his own chest twice, as if they might have forgotten who Felix was. ‘You’re all searching for someone to make things better – to restore order. And now, that someone is here. I’m here…and I’m going to help you.’ 

He unlocked his hands and waded through the crowd, pausing to touch the tops of the heads of the youngest children there, who looked up at him with weepy, plaintive eyes. ‘Everything is going to be okay, now,’ he told them. ‘Everything is going to be okay.’ He kept repeating this, like hypnotic suggestion, as he touched each child. They let out little sighs, their shoulders dropping with relief. Whoever this Felix Fathom was, he had so much natural charisma, it was like a drug.

Or so much ego.

Frowning, Adrien caught Luka’s eyes, maybe a metre away. Luka shook his head slowly, just as baffled by what they were witnessing. 

Felix stopped at the centre of the clearing the crowd had made for him, his hands behind his back again. Some of the shorter kids were jumping to get a better look at him, but his gaze was glued to Adrien, his eyes giving nothing away. ‘Who’s in charge here?’

Adrien swallowed, pressing Marinette’s hand as every head turned in their direction. Not this again. ‘W-we’re not in charge,’ he said.

‘But Marinette’s class representative!’ someone shouted.

Her eyes flew wide, maybe wondering how being class rep qualified you to run a group of several hundred children, half of whom didn't even go to Françoise Dupont, in lieu of all adults. ‘S-so is Jean Duparc! And Aurore!’ 

Heads turned again, this time finding Jean Duparc, a boy in their year. He stood near Felix, two girls no older than ten at his side. He took an emphatic step back, shaking his head in alarm. ‘What? N-no, I – I need to look after my sisters! I didn’t sign up for this! ’

Neither had Marinette.

Neither did I.

Heads continued to turn, trying to seek out Aurore, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Throughout this exchange, Felix’s eyes never left Adrien, hands still firmly behind his back as if he had something to hide. His stare was almost physical, rooting Adrien to the spot in a way that was painfully familiar – especially with that pose. It was the way his father stared at him.

With a heavy sigh, Felix strode across the clearing, stopping a couple feet away from Adrien and scanning him up and down before giving Marinette a cursory glance, his gaze flickering to their interlaced fingers before locking on Adrien’s eyes again. ‘Interesting. Just the two of you?’

Irritation made Adrien stand taller. ‘Like I said, we aren’t in charge. No one is. We just sort of….’

‘Stepped up when you had to?’ Felix nodded. ‘I get that. I’m that sort of person, too – and you’re just the kind of people I need.’

The kind of people he needs? Who the hell had died and made him Emperor?

Felix whipped around, turning to the others. ‘Anyone else like that? Anyone the sort of person who steps up when they hear the call?’

God, the call. Honestly, what books had Felix been reading?

When no one answered, he frowned like someone unused to not getting what he wanted.

Then Luka put up a hand. ‘Um. I mean…there’s Kim, Alix and Max…they've started running the cafe.’ He pointed at it.

Felix nodded, his eyes hungry for more information.

‘...and Alya and Nino are running the daycare…and Rose and my sister Juleka are in charge of the hospital….’

Felix nodded again, glancing away in thought before looking at Luka again. ‘Thank you, uh….’

‘Luka.’

‘He made the graveyard!’ someone shouted.

Luka winced, and the crowd fell silent.

Felix’s brow lifted. He pivoted on his heel and turned back to Adrien, as if he were the one to answer for this. ‘...graveyard?’

Adrien forced himself to maintain eye contact. ‘There’ve been some…accidents.’

‘...I see. This is worse than I thought.’ Felix bit his lip in consideration – then smiled. ‘Well. All of that’s about to change, now that I’m here.’ His arrogance fit him as well as his damned tailored waistcoat.

He stepped through the crowd again, brushing past Adrien and pushing him aside, rejoining Kagami and Lila. The three of them looked like they were posing for an advert for some film about angst-ridden teenagers.

Eyes still locked on Adrien’s, Felix said, ‘I’d like to hold our first Council session.’

…Council?

Felix scanned the square for inspiration, then pointed at the Victor Hugo Museum at the corner. ‘There.’

‘...what about there?’ Adrien couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Felix maintained that placid smile. ‘That’s where we’ll convene.’ He looked back at the crowd. ‘Could I have some volunteers to gather all those people Luka just named and send them into the museum for our first meeting?’

Hands shot up, kids eager to please. They tore off in a hurry.

Adrien scowled. Seriously, one poncy boy shows up in his flash car and suddenly everyone wants to do his bidding? Where the hell were all the volunteers when they needed to collect dead bodies from apartment blocks?

Felix motioned at Kagami and Lila, leading them away from the crowd who continued to watch as if the trio were the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen. Luka had vanished.

Guilt pooled in Adrien’s gut, one thought spinning through his head. Thank god it wasn’t the adults. Thank god it wasn’t my father. Because no matter how bad Felix was, he couldn’t be as bad as that .

Marinette squeezed Adrien’s hand, drawing his attention. Somehow, they were still holding each other. Somehow, this had become normal. ‘You okay?’

He’d never been very good at hiding his emotions. ‘I guess I’m just…I’m just surprised, is all.’ Not least because Napoleon over there had his face. ‘So…what do you think? Do we go to this…Council meeting?’

She shrugged. ‘What else do we have going on?’

That was a good point. At least this was something to do.

‘Let’s at least find out what he has to say. I know he acts like he just stepped out of a cartoon but…maybe he has some real plans.’

A soft laugh escaped his lips, and he threw a look at Felix, his head bowed towards Kagami and Lila in private conversation. ‘Do you trust him?’

‘Not on my life.’ She gave him a thin smile. ‘Shall we?’

He sighed. ‘We shall, M’lady.’ And, hand in hand, they walked to the museum.

Chapter Text

Adrien stared at the entranceway to the Victor Hugo Museum, on a corner of the square of buildings surrounding Place des Vosges. He glanced at Marinette, and she gave him a subtle nod. Then they were stepping under the archway, heading inside.

No one waited to verify their tickets or take them through security. They just…walked in, the only sound that of their shoes tapping on the black and white tiled floor.

Footsteps padded behind them, and they turned. Felix had joined them, framed by Kagami and Lila. He stopped and turned in a slow circle, nodding as he took in the decor. An unnerving smile spread across his face, his thoughts vivid in his eyes. ‘Yes…this is just the right place to hold my Council.’

Council. What an absolute –

‘Come on, then.’ Felix gestured for them all to follow him, then pushed Adrien out of the way with his shoulder and stalked off down the hall without looking back. There wasn’t the slightest doubt in his mind that they would do as instructed.

Lila lifted her chin and hurried after him, shooting Kagami a quick look, like she hoped to reach Felix first. Kagami let out a sigh, then followed too.

There was a low growling sound. When Marinette touched Adrien’s arm, he realised it was him.

She rolled her eyes, letting him know she thought Felix was as ridiculous as he did. His shoulders loosened, and they walked down the hall after Kagami.

They found the others in a garish green room lined with antique plates and paintings. On the floor was a hideous patterned carpet bearing the weight of over-upholstered chairs and hand-carved writing desks. The furniture was roped off, but Felix had stepped over the barriers, selecting the most ornate chair of them all, leather the red of the car he’d turned up in. The way he laid his arms on the rests, his back straight, it was like Felix thought he was on a goddamned throne, waiting to be lionised.

There weren’t enough seats for everyone Felix had insisted join them in this circus, and he had to know it. He’d taken the place of honour while most of his Council would have to stand.

Although there were still free chairs for now, Adrien remained on his feet, and Marinette made no move to sit either.

‘Hello?’ voices called from elsewhere in the museum.

‘Lila, go attend to our guests.’ Felix tossed his command over his shoulder, without bothering to look at her.

‘But –’

‘I said…attend to our guests.’ His fingers clenched around the armrests, his face red, strained with sudden anger.

Beside him, Lila paled, the muscles in her face going taut and the veins visible through her skin. There was a strange sound – a rumbling. ‘Okay!’ she gasped out, waving at the air like she was…trying to ward off an attacker….

Felix’s hands and face relaxed, and Lila regained some of her colour, her chest heaving in and out like she was trying to catch her breath, even though she’d just been…standing there.

She hurried off, out of sight. Kagami stared after her, a deep frown etched into her face.

Felix tugged at Kagami’s skirt. ‘Don’t just stand there. Sit with me.’ He gestured at one of the other chairs.

She pursed her lips, glancing at the chair like this decision might determine the fate of the world – then sat down, her shoulders drawn in and her hands clasped in her lap.

Voices carried through the building, the volume growing. Lila returned, resuming her place beside Felix, who didn’t so much as glance at her.

Friendly but confused faces appeared in the doorway, casting tentative looks around before crossing the threshold and joining them in what Adrien could only think of as the drawing room. There was Luka, Max, Alix, a bewildered looking Kim, Alya, Nino, Rose, Juleka and….

Sabrina?

Marinette let out a little gasp. ‘Who’s looking after Laurent?’

Rose gave her a warm smile. ‘Don’t worry, Nathaniel has him.’

Marinette exhaled with relief.

Felix arched an eyebrow, his eyes darting from Marinette to Rose, then to Marinette again. His hands had tightened on the armrests again. He wasn’t someone who liked being out of the loop. Yet, he moulded his mouth into what he probably imagined was a disarming smile and cast a look over his Council. ‘Well. Now that we’re all gathered here…let’s make our introductions. Kagami?’

She tapped one of her feet on the floor, then released a heavy sigh. Standing, she began a slow circuit around the room, shaking everyone’s hands. ‘Hello, I’m Kagami. Who are you? Very pleased to meet you.’ Hardly had she introduced herself to one person before she was moving onto the next, delivering the same speech. It was impossible to sound more bored.

When she held Alix’s hand, she paused…then moved on. She paused with Juleka and Marinette, too. And when it was Adrien’s turn, she drew in a sharp breath, not simply shaking his hand but actually shaking. Her eyes slowly met his, interest showing in her face at last.

He tugged out of her grasp, taking a step backwards, certain everyone could hear his heart pounding.

‘Kagami?’ Felix’s voice was sharp. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Y-yes, I just…sorry, I….’ She cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders before moving onto Luka.

Adrien could feel Marinette watching him – could feel the questions in her eyes. But he was frozen, staring after Kagami as she circled the room, now shaking hands with Max…with Sabrina….

She knows. He didn’t know how or why but…. She knows I have power.

When Marinette’s hand grasped his, he nearly cried out. He swallowed down his nerves, turning to meet her eyes, then pressed her hand in return, reassuring her that he was okay. He was okay, he was okay….

There was no way Kagami knew. She’d probably just been startled by how similar he looked to her boyfriend over there…if that was what he was. His gaze was possessive and hungry, following her every movement as she finished the introductions. And this time, when she resumed her seat, she crossed her legs in his direction, allowing him to lean in close, the pair of them murmuring to each other under their breath.

Still, they weren’t like any other couple Adrien had ever known. Alya and Nino didn’t roll their eyes at each other like Kagami kept doing to Felix. They shared ice creams, made jokes, played video games…. And seeing them in the daycare…they supported each other…like how Adrien and Marinette supported each other at the bakery, looking after August and Manon, making dinner together and –

Not that they were a couple. They were not a couple. They were just friends….

Friends who held each other in the night when one of them had a bad dream….

And woke up in each other’s arms in the morning and….

Lila stood beside Felix’s throne – chair. It was a chair, and she stood next to it, dropping a hand on the top to demonstrate propriety. Felix threw her hand a look like he thought it might spread plague, but he didn’t move her.

Everyone in the room had formed a tight circle. It was impossible not to notice the way their gazes kept darting between Adrien and Felix – impossible not to hear the question running through their heads. Why do they look so similar?

Felix turned to Sabrina. ‘I don’t recall hearing your name mentioned in the park.’

She flushed, fidgeting like a butterfly pinned to a board. ‘N-no, I...I’ve volunteered a little but I’m not…I’m not in charge of anything.’

‘Then why are you here?’ The question was cold.

Sabrina’s eyes were watery. ‘I heard you want to help and…m-m-my friend is missing. I’ve looked all over but no one is helping me find her.’

Felix lifted an eyebrow again, then stared at Adrien. ‘You haven’t helped?’

Adrien’s brow furrowed in frustration. Why was this all down to him?

Luka put up a hand, maybe to stop Adrien from marching over and hitting his doppelganger. ‘We’ve all had a lot to do. There are a lot of kids missing. Sabrina’s right…we haven’t looked for Chloe…but we haven’t not looked for her, either.’

Felix blinked at him. ‘...Chloe?’

‘My friend,’ said Sabrina. ‘You might recognise her. She’s famous – like Adrien.’

Felix’s eyes found him yet again. ‘So that’s why you look so familiar. What’re you famous for?’

Lila gave a loud yawn, not bothering to cover her mouth. ‘You don’t recognise him? He’s that model from all the ads. You know, the perfume – Adrien the Fragrance.’

Felix sat up straighter. ‘Oh yes! Radiant – carefree – dreamy!’ The words were spoken with naked sarcasm. ‘God, I hated those. Everyone kept asking if it was me.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Adrien said, with an equal dose of irony.

‘I accept your apology.’ For the first time since he’d arrived, Felix sounded sincere. ‘Now, then. I’ve called you all here because it’s obvious that everything is out of control.’

Luka frowned. ‘I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s –’

‘We need to get organised – set tasks, so people don’t freak out. We need to get the city in order.’ Felix pounded his fist into his palm, like a gavel.

Luka’s mouth hung open, probably shocked that someone was finally singing his song. Then he nodded with plain excitement. ‘This is just what I’ve been saying! And we need to help people.’

‘People like Chloe.’ Felix flashed Sabrina a smile.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she clenched her fists to her chest with gratitude. God, he hadn’t even done anything yet.

‘But there aren’t enough of us,’ Luka said. ‘That’s the problem. Everyone in this room has been amazing…and there are a few others, as well…but most people aren’t volunteering.’

Felix shot him a look like he was exercising great patience with everyone’s stupidity. ‘You’re leaving it to volunteers?’

‘Well…what else can we do?’

‘Force them.’

Everyone stared at him.

Felix let out a little laugh. ‘Not with violence, of course.’

Kagami snorted.

‘But if we want people to get involved, they need incentives…and consequences. Only if necessary, obviously – and nothing horrible. Just…everyone needs to understand that we’re all in this together. We need to work with each other if we’re going to survive…whatever this is.’

The others were nodding, sharing looks, as if Felix had just provided the solution to world hunger, or ended all war, or figured out how to remove the damn dome most of them didn’t know was holding them in.

Felix nodded back, like they needed his approval. ‘Right, then. Let’s start with what you’re already doing. You, there. Talk me through your part in this.’ He pointed at Nino.

Nino looked startled, adjusting his cap and letting out a nervous sound, like he cared what this freakshow thought. ‘Well, um…my girlfriend Alya and I have sort of been…running the daycare?’

‘All on your own?’

‘Well…not all on our own. Our friends Ivan and Mylene are helping. They’re with the kids now.’

‘I’m very glad to hear this, Nino. Children are so important, don’t you think? Children are the future.’

Kagami rolled her eyes yet again and crossed her legs the other direction. Lila sniggered.

‘But four people…that’s not enough, is it? How many children are there?’

‘We're not sure,’ Alya said. ‘There’s fourteen babies…and lots of toddlers…and then the older ones. Maybe…almost a hundred in total?’

Felix made a tutting noise as he shook his head. ‘That simply won’t do. It’s too much work for the four of you. Finding you more staff should be one of our top priorities.’ 

Alya and Nino released a sigh, their eyes shining the way Sabrina’s had.

‘Thank you,’ Nino said.

Felix gave them a gracious nod, as if to say it was nothing…because it was nothing. Anyone could say a few words and –

It was Kim’s turn. ‘I'm running the cafe. Kim’s Cafe.’

Felix pressed his hands on the armrests of his chair, his back straight like he really did think he was on a bloody throne. ‘What a fantastic name for your business. How are you getting the food?’

‘Oh, it’s easy. Alix and Max have been helping me get ingredients from the local shops and other restaurants.’

‘Excellent. And what happens if you run out?’

Kim gave an irritated sigh. ‘That won’t happen. I’ve been over this before. There’s plenty of food.’

Max pushed up his glasses. ‘Yes, there are several shops and other cafes and restaurants nearby.’

‘And boulangeries,’ Alix said. ‘And patisseries.’

Max nodded. ‘We’re very well-stocked.’

‘You certainly sound it,’ Felix said. ‘But what if other kids break in and raid your stock?’

Kim blinked at him. Max looked horrified that he hadn’t factored human cruelty into his calculations.

‘That’s really cynical,’ Alix said.

Felix gave a deferential nod. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to frighten anyone. I have this terrible habit of thinking of the worst-case scenario. Kagami calls me a worrier.’

‘Among other things,’ she muttered.

He grinned. ‘What you’re doing is very important, Kim. We need to protect your supply. Let’s make our first rule, shall we? Let’s organise a group to round up certain supplies and make sure everyone knows they’re only for you, to keep everyone fed in an organised way.’

The room was silent with consideration. It sounded sensible but….

Adrien shivered. Maybe at the idea of this new boy making rules.

‘You know, all the meat and fish in the stores is already inedible,’ Luka said. ‘The fresh dairy will be off, too – and it’s only day three. In a few more days, the fruit and veg will start rotting and all the shops will stink.’

‘Unless I can figure out the electricity first,’ Max said. ‘There’s simply no good reason for it to have shut off.’

Other than a great big dome cutting us off from the outside world.

Rose’s face was drawn with concern. ‘You really think this will go on a few days more?’

Felix turned all his focus on her. ‘My dear angel, I certainly hope not. But we need to think about these things. We need to be smart about it – take precautions. Just in case.’

Her brow had lifted – maybe at his warning, or maybe at what he’d just called her.

‘Tell me, um…Rose…? What do you do?’

‘Juleka and I are running the Unicorn Centre.’

‘...the…Unicorn Centre?’

She nodded. ‘That’s what we’ve decided to call the hospital.’

Juleka mumbled something at her side.

Felix stared blankly at her, then focused again on Rose. ‘What valuable work you’re both doing. Is that what Marinette here meant when she asked who was looking after…Laurent, was it?’

The room fell silent again.

Then Sabrina stepped forward. ‘He was shot.’

At last, something made Felix’s false smile waver. ‘...shot? There are guns?’

Kagami had gone rigid, her eyes on the floor.

Luka gave an uncomfortable nod. ‘We think it was dropped by a police officer when they…went poof.’

Lila laughed. ‘Went poof. I like that.’

‘Shut up, Lila,’ Felix said without looking up at her.

She scowled but sealed her lips.

Felix smoothed out his smile again like that little outburst never happened. ‘If there are guns…that’s very serious. We should be rounding them up to make sure they don’t fall into the wrong hands.’

Adrien couldn’t help himself. ‘And you can assure us your hands aren’t wrong?’

Felix’s head jerked in his direction, locking eyes with him like a cat attempting to remind him who was dominant. Then he snapped his gaze away, refocusing on Luka. ‘Please – tell me more about this tragic incident with the gun.’

Luka shifted in discomfort. ‘Well, there…really isn’t much more to tell. It was just…it was awful.’ His voice cracked on the word. Maybe because it was inadequate. All language was.

Sabrine let out a growl of frustration. ‘That’s not true. He’s not telling you the whole story, Felix. Laurent got shot because he had powers. You know, like something out of a comic book.’

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath, Nino, Alya and Luka turned to Adrien – then looked away, maybe remembering this was supposed to be secret. Juleka and Alix had their eyes on the floor.

Felix exchanged a look with Kagami. Behind him, Lila scowled with distaste.

No one was looking at Sabrina.

Felix turned to Luka again, waiting…expecting him to explain.

Luka glanced again at Adrien and Marinette, as if in apology. ‘...another boy accused Laurent of being able to…do things…and he shot him out of…fear, I guess. It was…it was an accident.’

‘I see. And is he the only one who can…do things? ’

‘...there have been reports of others.’

Felix was nodding, accepting this information with startling swiftness. ‘If what you say is true…this is quite dangerous, you know.’

Nino was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know if dangerous is the right word. I mean…I’m sure no one wants to hurt anyone. And it was the boy accused of having powers who got hurt. The other boy had the gun.’ He rushed out his words, like he did when he was nervous.

‘He’s right!’ Rose cried. ‘I mean…maybe this is even a good thing! Maybe these people can use their powers for good and help us! ’

‘Hm.’ Lila had crossed her arms and was tapping her chin in thought. ‘Maybe…but how do we control that?’

‘Wait.’ Marinette dropped Adrien’s hand, putting hers up like a wall. ‘Control?’

Felix was nodding again. ‘She’s right. If we don’t handle this right…things could get out of hand.’

Marinette’s face darkened. ‘What exactly are you suggesting? We interrogate people? Maybe put them to some kind of magic test? Round them up and hold them prisoner? ’ She spat out the words with disgust.

Adrien’s insides went hot. She was defending him. No one had ever spoken up for him like that.

Their friends were rigid, as if holding their breath – especially Alya, her eyes large, studying her best friend.

But Felix didn’t even flinch. ‘I sense you’re not taking this seriously.’

Marinette rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. ‘We are not making people feel like criminals.’

The smile had frozen on Felix’s face and his hands gripped the armrests so hard that his skin whitened. ‘So you are in charge.’ That low rumbling sound had returned.

Their friends seemed to step closer to each other without noticing they were doing it, glancing around to find the source of the noise.

But Marinette’s attention was fixed on Felix. ‘I’m not in charge. This is just common sense. You just said we’re all in this together – but what you’re proposing will divide us.’

Felix’s lips were tight. ‘What do you really want to say, Maribelle?’

‘Marinette. And what I’m saying is that I’m not in charge – but neither are you. You can’t just swan in here with your fancy self-driving car and your uniforms and boss people around. It’s great that you want us to get organised, but we are not launching an inquisition to check for powers.’ She was shaking, now, her voice echoing around the room, like some beautiful angry goddess.

Felix’s fists had clenched, the veins bulging in his arms, yet he still wore that damn smile. The rumbling sound grew louder, the floor trembling beneath their feet.

‘What’s –’

‘What the –’

There were cries as the room started shaking like a giant popcorn machine. Unthinking, Adrien’s arms went around Marinette, holding her and hauling her out of the way as one of the tacky statues in the room toppled off its plinth, smashing on the floor. Shards of ceramic flew into the air. There were screams as everyone leapt out of the way.

Then – the floor went still. The vibrations didn’t gradually taper off. They just…stopped.

No one moved, all eyes on the mess on the floor. Breathless, Adrien could feel Marinette’s heart pounding against his as he held her. They’d just…the room had…what had….

Instinct tugged his head up, finding Felix again. Kagami had leaned over and was squeezing his shoulder. His grip on the chair relaxed, his face regaining some of its usual colour.

‘We’re getting earthquakes now?’ Kim blurted. ‘How am I meant to run a kitchen with earthquakes?’

Nino put a shaky hand on his shoulder. ‘Dude, Paris doesn’t…doesn’t get earthquakes.’

Lila gave an ugly laugh. ‘Really? That’s what you’re questioning? That’s where your weirdness boundaries lie?’

Alya took a step forward, looking ready to sock the girl. ‘Hey, don’t talk to my boyfriend like that.’

‘It’s okay, babe.’ Nino pulled her back.

Alya pursed her lips in restraint.

Felix shook himself out. ‘Well, now. This place really is old. It’s falling to bits, isn’t it.’ He was too casual as he said this. Just like he’d accepted the news of powers too quickly.

Slowly, the room was reviving. Adrien disentangled himself from Marinette, catching the look in her eyes. She was thinking the same thing as him.

Felix smiled at Marinette. ‘Come now, let’s not fight. I never said anything about inquisitions or interrogation. Please don’t put words in my mouth. We want the same thing, I assure you. There’s much work to be done so we can help my people.’

‘...your people?’ Adrien said.

Felix blinked at him. ‘Our people. The people! We need to help the people.’

The others stared at him, their shoulders drawn in, tentative.

Then Luka cleared his throat. ‘I guess we…do need to get things organised.’

Felix clapped his hands in delight. ‘Excellent! Now, then. Here’s what we’re going to do.’

Then everyone leaned in towards him, waiting to hear what he had to say. It seemed they had a leader, after all.

Chapter Text

‘I don’t trust him.’ The words flew out of Marinette’s mouth as she and Adrien left the others behind, walking back through the stone archway of the museum and out onto the street. 

Beside her, Adrien had tensed, his forehead pulled together in a deep frown. ‘I don’t trust him, either. I’ve never trusted anyone less.’

She cast a glance behind, at what they’d just escaped. Inside, the atmosphere had been like something on another planet, one that didn’t support human life. Crushing hands clutching her neck and pressing on her chest, limiting her breath.

Even now, she could almost feel the energy reaching out, arms trying to wrap around them, to hold them down. But with each step they took away from the building, her lungs cleared. With each gulp of fresh air, she felt a little better, her nerves standing down.

Except it’s not fresh air, is it? Not when we’re inside a giant dome.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and her footsteps stalled.

‘…Marinette?’ Adrien’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, his eyebrows knitted together with silent worry.

‘Sorry, I’m –’ Not fine. None of them were fine. She wrapped her arms around herself, blinking at the ground. ‘When those cars came, I just…I thought….’

‘You thought the adults had returned.’ His voice was soft. Careful.

‘Y-yes. The driving…it sounded so controlled, like the drivers really knew what they were doing. I thought maybe my…my p-parents….’ She swallowed down a sob. ‘Then we got a look at the cars and – and – I thought maybe it was the military or the President or…. But instead….’

‘Instead, we got whoever the hell Felix and the other two are.’ He sighed.

Her lip wobbled. She shouldn’t have let herself hope. She shouldn’t have….

Adrien stepped closer, pulling her into a hug. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

She let herself be held by him, feeling his warmth – then pulled out of his embrace, lifting a hand to wipe her eyes. ‘You know, when we first saw Felix, I thought…I thought he was weird, but….’

‘But okay.’

She nodded. ‘But now…. ’ She let out a heavy breath, standing a little straighter, though her voice remained thick. ‘I don’t like this, Adrien. The way he was talking in the – the meeting…and….’

Adrien held her eyes – then gave a faint nod, reading the thoughts in her head. ‘He has a power.’

Memories flashed through her mind. Of Felix sitting there on that damned pseudo-throne of his, like he thought he was Emperor Napoleon. The room shaking. The casual way Felix had shrugged off the phenomenon. Kagami and Lila’s complete lack of surprise, while everyone else stared with round, terrified eyes.

‘Not just a power, Adrien, but…a – a strong one. That was no earthquake, back there. And the museum isn’t falling to pieces, like Felix suggested. You saw what happened right before the tremors. He got so angry when I stood up to him, and then he – he made the whole room shake. He broke things. He’s dangerous.’

Adrien flinched at the word. He opened his mouth, perhaps to reply – then went still, something over her shoulder catching his attention.

Marinette turned and saw her, stepping out of the museum, onto the street. Kagami. Trim and beautiful, with dark cropped hair gleaming in the unnatural sunshine.

Like a lapdog, Felix’s eyes had followed her every movement in that ‘Council room’. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, like she didn’t just think but knew she was superior. 

‘They’re self-driving cars,’ Kagami had explained in the meeting. ‘My mother owns the company.’

Her mother owns the company.

She had to be as rich as…as Adrien.

Marinette fought back a wave of jealousy – then noticed the look on Adrien’s face as he stared at the other girl. That wasn’t admiration. That was someone who wanted answers.

With a grunt, he stalked over to Kagami, stopping a few steps away.

As Marinette joined them, Kagami fixed them with an unreadable stare. ‘Can I help you?’ Her voice was as flat as it had been in the meeting.

Adrien cut straight to the point. ‘What’s Felix up to?’

Kagami’s brow lifted – a slow, deliberate action. If she was surprised by the abrupt question, she didn’t show it. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, I think you do. We’re not stupid, Kagami, and I don’t think you are, either. We know he’s up to something. What does he want? ’ He took a step forward, his arms strained at his sides.

Marinette’s mouth parted. The only other time she’d seen Adrien confront someone like this, it was Chloe – her living nightmare, but his childhood friend. It had hurt him to do it, to tell her he was done pretending they were close. It had been clear in his eyes that he hated every moment of what he was doing.

But there was no regret here. No hesitation.

Kagami’s stare had turned cold. ‘I imagine he wants the same as you.’

Adrien’s eyes flew wide. ‘M-Marinette?’

Marinette stepped back. What?

‘Excuse me?’ Kagami said.

‘I –’ Adrien’s cheeks darkened. ‘I mean…Marinette…what do you think Felix and I could both want?’ He stretched out his question, speaking too loudly, then rubbed the back of his neck.

She blinked at him. How would she know?  ‘I…I have no idea….’

Kagami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. ‘I thought you said you were eager to rush off and do your jobs. Isn’t that why you ran out of the Council meeting so fast? I don’t think Felix would be too happy that you’re still hanging around.’

Marinette scowled. She didn’t want to give this girl the satisfaction of thinking she could push them around…but there was no good reason not to try to help people, like they’d vowed to do. ‘We were just on our way – weren’t we, Adrien.’

His lips were pursed, his gaze pinned on Kagami. At his sides, his hands clenched. ‘Yes. We were.’ His voice was tight, like he was holding back a million more things he wanted to say.

When he didn’t move, Marinette took his hand, giving it a slight tug. He turned, dragging his gaze away and allowing himself to be led down the street.

‘Was that a threat? ’ he growled once they were out of earshot of Kagami. ‘Does she think I’m afraid of that puffed-up peacock?’

‘Maybe a lot of people are.’

‘Well, not me – and neither are you.’ He let out a flat laugh. ‘Saying Felix and I want the same thing. I mean, what could I possibly have in common with someone like that? ’

Apart from looking just like him?

She shivered. ‘She’s wrong. He doesn’t want what you want – what either of us want. You heard him in that room. The way he was talking about…about people with powers. About finding them, rounding them up, and interrogating them like – like they’re criminals. And all so he can be the only one.’

Adrien stiffened. Then his hand loosened in her grasp, his shoulders and head dropping. All his anger seemed to melt away, replaced by a weary heaviness. ‘Maybe he’s right, Marinette. Maybe we are criminals.’

Marinette halted in place, stopping him too. ‘What are you –’

‘I can destroy things, too. Burn things. I’m just as dangerous.’ He looked away, avoiding her eyes.

‘What? No – that’s – that’s different! ’

His eyes flew back to her. ‘How is it different? I killed someone, Marinette. I killed that girl.’  

‘No. Adrien, you’re – you’re –’ She grabbed his arms, startling him. ‘You’re a good person. You don’t want to hurt anyone. You didn’t ask for this power – and neither did anyone else who has them. You – you want to help people. But Felix…whatever he says…he doesn’t want that. He wants to be in control. And you….’ She relaxed her grip. ‘I know you, Adrien. I trust you. I don’t trust Felix.’

Adrien held her eyes – then let out a shaky breath. ‘Maybe you’re right – especially about Felix. I just….’ His head hung with the weight of what had happened. What he’d done.

But it had been an accident. An accident. Self-defence. How could he still believe otherwise, after everything? 

‘Anyway…I think…I think Kagami knows about my power.’

‘W-what?’ The sudden change of topic made her release him, alarm shooting through her.

‘I know. I know how it sounds, but I just…I felt it. The way she looked at me, it – it was like she knew.’

Her heart was pounding, memory flashing through her mind. ‘When she held our hands….’

He nodded.

‘...you think she…she could sense it, maybe? Like – like she has a power, too?’ 

He gave a small shrug. ‘It makes sense, doesn’t it? And now she’s probably told Felix and –’ He covered his face, letting out a noise of frustration before dropping his hands again. ‘What do we do now, Marinette?’ His eyes were pleading. He was looking to her for leadership, like so many of the other kids had done in the park earlier.

No, not leadership. Guidance. Support. As an equal. 

She tried for a smile. ‘I guess we…do what we said we’d do. We continue searching buildings and cars for more kids in trouble. I mean…that’s all we can do…isn’t it.’

He pursed his lips, then nodded. ‘Alright.’

They headed out of the square, onto the main road, and further into town. They had a job to do.

Finding new neighbourhoods they hadn’t already searched, they stopped at every car they came across, and tried the apartments, shouting to see if anyone was inside.

As the day progressed, they managed to find a ten-year-old boy who’d stayed home sick like little Denis, twin toddlers trapped inside a car, and a four-year-old girl huddled on the floor at the back of a store, crying for her father.

Each time they found a child, they led them back to the park or the daycare. During one of these trips, they saw Felix standing on the rim of a fountain, speaking to the crowd.

Addressing his subjects.

His back was rigid and his chin held high, his voice booming. ‘Everything’s going to be okay now. We have a plan – but we need your help.’

On the grass below him, Kagami was looking at her nails while Lila grinned at the crowd – a shark’s grin.

Marinette's hands tightened around the toddler in her arms. She should’ve been glad – grateful that someone else was taking charge, managing things, telling people what to do. She didn’t want to be the one to do it.

But Felix…and Kagami…and Lila….

Why couldn’t someone like Luka have taken charge?

Adrien stepped closer to her. ‘It sounds good, doesn’t it.’ He spoke under his breath like he thought there might be cameras watching, recording their conversation.

‘It does.’

'And we do need people to help – people to be organised and – and get supplies.’

‘We do.’

‘But….’

‘But.’

But they didn’t trust him.

When the sun began to make its descent, they made the decision to call it a day. They’d scoured countless streets, searching who even knew how many apartments and cars. Yet there was still so much ground they – and anyone else also helping out – hadn’t covered. Still so many kids who could be out there, scared, hungry, hurt. 

Or worse.

Three days had passed. Anyone unable to get water by now would be….

No. No! Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. 

Tomorrow. We’ll keep searching tomorrow. Every damn street we can. 

On their slow way back, they stopped in one of the supermarkets. Luka was right. Already the fish, meat and poultry had begun looking sad and bad – not to the point of rotting, but smelling in that nauseating, metallic way seafood did, yes. Enough to want to be in and out of the shop as quickly as possible. 

At the square, they split up. While Adrien returned to the bakery to carry up all the supplies they’d left downstairs, she went to the daycare to collect Manon and August.

The daycare was a flurry of activity, even more so than that morning, when a lot of children had still been tired or asleep. And there were more people now – older kids, maybe around twelve years old, roped into helping out.

How had Felix managed it? More smooth talking? Or…something else?

She spotted Manon at a little table with a few other kids, playing with a stack of Lego. Alya, who’d been absent when she’d dropped off the other kids they’d recovered, sat beside her.

Marinette walked over the table, standing beside it. ‘Hey.’

Alya looked up. ‘Marinette!’ She got to her feet, wrapping her arms around Marinette in a tight hug.

Marinette hugged her back, then pulled away, surveying the room. Even just the noise of all those children – the chatter – the crying – was overwhelming. ‘I don’t…I don’t know how you’re doing this.’

Alya gave her a wan smile. ‘It’s only been a few days, M.’

Only a few days. A few days in Hell. ‘Manon – has she – how has –’ She couldn’t think how to finish the question, too aware that she sounded like a parent picking up her own child.  

‘She’s fine. Had a sandwich for lunch and she’s been sitting here since.’

‘Oh, that’s…that’s good. And she hasn’t…drawn anything or…or said anything weird…?’

Alya narrowed her eyes. ‘No? Should she have?’

Marinette shook her head. ‘Of course not. I’m just…and August?’

‘Also fine. He’s in the other room, with the babies. He just had a nap.’

Marinette exhaled in relief. ‘I’m sorry, for – for –’

‘Hey, no. We agreed this at the Council meeting. You and Adrien have your jobs, and this is our job…for however long this lasts. Anyway, it was easier today, thanks to Felix.’

Thanks to Felix. ‘He got you more…volunteers.’

‘Yeah. Four, so far. And he’s organising it so we have even more supplies brought to us, like…like you and Adrien were doing yesterday.’

Marinette opened her mouth – to share her worries about Felix. Then she shut it. The way Alya was talking…. She wouldn’t understand.

One more thing I’m keeping from her.

Like the dome.

She swallowed. ‘I…I should get the kids back. It’s getting late and – and we still need to feed them and get them – get them to bed….’

Alya nodded. ‘Of course. Hey, Manon, you ready to go home?’

Home. Like the bakery was where Manon belonged, now.

Manon didn’t look up. She’d grabbed all the bright green pieces of Lego and made some kind of crystalline structure. Like something out of a geometry textbook. Something most kids her age shouldn’t be able to make. Maybe it should’ve been impressive but…Marinette took a step back, dread crawling down her spine.

‘Come on, Manon. Let’s go.’ She took the girl’s hand, giving a gentle tug when she didn’t respond.

Manon stood, her eyes clouded like she wasn’t…she wasn’t there.

Alya was staring at her, too, questions in her eyes. Questions Marinette didn’t want to answer.

Marinette cleared her throat. ‘You said August was….’

Alya tore her gaze away from Manon. ‘Oh yeah. I’ll take you to him.’

She led the way to another room. As they waded through the sea of children, Marinette spotted two familiar faces over in a corner – Josie, pushing a toy car to her little brother Denis. Josie looked up, catching her eye and smiling in recognition, giving an eager wave. Marinette gave a small wave back, doing her best to look cheerful.

In the other room, August sat on a playmat. Unlike Manon, he seemed to recognise Marinette when he saw her, and when she picked him up, he buried his face in her neck, clutching her shirt with his little hands. He felt so heavy in her arms. Or maybe that was just the responsibility.

With a final hug from Alya, Marinette was leaving the daycare, leaving the noise and chaos of the other children, taking her own kids back home.

Home.

Her parents weren’t there.

But Adrien was.

How easily, how quickly, this had begun to feel right.

Adrien frowned as he read through the instructions for the portable stove he’d set up on Marinette’s balcony.

Voices drew his attention over the railing – one gurgling and the other clear, soothing. Marinette. Coming back with Manon in hand and August in her arms.

His heartbeat quickened for no reason he could explain, and he focused again on the instructions, glancing behind…and behind again…waiting for her to join him.

When she finally popped up through the skylight, she had August with her. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey. Where’s Manon?’

‘Down on the bed. What are you up to?’

‘Well. I found these.’ He gestured at the stove, two bags of ingredients, and some things he’d pulled out of the kitchen cupboards – a large bowl, some cutlery, dishes, a pan, a frying pan. ‘I thought I’d cook something but…to be honest…I’ve never done it before. I just…I wanted to try.’ God, that sounded pathetic. Hopefully, she wasn’t thinking he was as much of a burden as the kids.

She managed a small smile, surveying the selection of ingredients he’d brought up. ‘Maybe start with an omelette. We need to use up the eggs soon, anyway, and that’ll tick a lot of nutrition boxes.’

‘Right. An omelette. And that’s…easy?’

She let out a half laugh that made his stomach flutter. ‘It’s easy, yes. Here, I’ll show you. But first…we need a few more things. I’ll be right back.’ Handing August to him, she disappeared down the skylight.

August stared after her with longing eyes.

Adrien smiled. ‘I know. I’d rather be in her arms, too.’ His eyes widened. Why the hell had he said that?

When she returned, she had jars of herbs. Joining him at the stove, she picked up a box of eggs, the bowl and a fork. ‘Alright, first you tap the egg against the side of the bowl, like this. Not too gently or it won’t crack – but also not too hard. See?’

He watched and nodded. Her voice was calm, patient, soothing. 

‘Then you carefully split the shell – and let the insides fall into the bowl. But be careful not to let any shell fall in…like so.’ She smiled with satisfaction as the contents fell into the bowl with a satisfying plop! ‘Now you try.’

He bit his lip, then handed August back, flexing his hands and picking up an egg. ‘Right. So. First, I tap the egg on the bowl.’ He gave it a gentle tap…but it didn’t make a dent. He tapped it harder…then harder still, until Marinette put up a hand to stop him. Letting out a breath, he held the broken egg over the bowl. ‘Okay…don’t let the shell fall in.’

‘If you do, it’s okay. It’s just annoying, because it’s hard to fish it out.’

He learned this when he did the second egg. But by the fifth, he had the hang of it, and by the sixth he was ready to open his own omelette kiosk. ‘Now what?’

‘Now, you whisk the eggs and add the herbs.’

‘...that’s it?’

‘Well, normally, I’d suggest adding cheese, too, but it’s all spoiled.’ Her words were laced with the fear she wasn’t allowing herself to show.

With the eggs whisked and seasoned, she guided him in how to use a frying pan, and when to flip the omelette. The smell was gorgeous, not just herby and mouth-watering but so…normal. The smell of daily life as it should be.

When she left him to the frying, his chest swelled with pride at being trusted with this job. It may have only been an omelette, but it was a responsibility. He was feeding them. He was keeping them alive.

The first two omelettes were for the kids, the next for themselves. Seated on the balcony together, Marinette fed August, while Manon sat on the floor, picking at hers.

Then August began to niggle, a sign that it was bedtime.

Getting the kids to bed was easier than last night. Already, they’d fallen into a routine. But this time, they didn’t go to sleep right away themselves. Instead, they cleaned up the balcony, then sat up there together, with the skylight left open so they could hear the children if they cried out.

The sun had set and the moon had risen, full and glowing enough to illuminate the city.

‘It’s so quiet,’ Marinette said.

‘Yeah. It’s sort of…nice, isn’t it.’

‘...it is. I don’t like thinking of the reason for it but…I never really noticed how noisy all the cars and people really are.’

They shared a look…then lapsed into silence…savouring this little moment of peace and calm. 

He leaned back against the wall, his gaze lazy. On the deckchair, Marinette was staring at the moon, her forehead creased like she had something on her mind. Something that wouldn’t make him happy, when she chose to share it.

This time, when she turned to him, he shivered, even though it wasn’t really cold.

In fact…that was weird. It should’ve been maybe five degrees, at this time of year. But it felt more like fifteen. Something to do with the dome, maybe?

The dome…which we still haven't told anyone about. 

‘Adrien…I’ve…I’ve been thinking. I don’t really know how to say this delicately but….’

‘...whatever you want to say…go ahead and say it. You can tell me anything, Marinette.’

She pressed her lips together, like she wasn’t sure that applied to whatever she was thinking now. ‘Okay, here’s the thing. Do you remember that email we found? At your house?’

He froze. The email. From his father to Nathalie. He’d almost forgotten. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since they’d found it on his father’s tablet. ‘...w-what about it?’

She let out a troubled sigh. ‘When we first read it…I couldn’t think what it meant. But it's being going through my head and…and your father...he was talking about powers, wasn’t he.’

He shrank back against the wall. ‘...I…yes. I didn’t say it at the time because I wanted to hide it from you but…he knew. He knew what I could do.’

She nodded. ‘Yes. But not just you, Adrien.’

A tremor had taken his hands, and he sat on them. ‘I don’t…I don’t know what you’re….’

‘The email referred to people by initials. It mentioned an A, who was obviously you…and it mentioned someone named F.’

‘S-so? There are plenty of people with names beginning with F.’

‘Adrien….’ She dragged a hand down her face. ‘I’m sorry but…he looks just like you. The hair – the eyes – the everything. Even his mannerisms remind me of your father.’ She blurted this like she’d been thinking it all day, desperate for a moment when she could say it aloud.

‘Just say what you mean, Marinette.’ He rubbed his forehead, exhausted in a way he’d never felt before.

She leaned on her knees, her voice softening. ‘It’s just too much coincidence. We find that email, and then a Felix turns up, out of the blue, looking like your long-lost twin, and he has powers too.’

Adrien flinched. Long-lost twin. That was…that was crazy. ‘You hear stories, sometimes. Of people who look just like you, but they’re not related.’

She frowned, like she thought he was being deliberately obtuse. Suddenly, this chat on the balcony didn’t feel peaceful anymore.

He got to his feet. ‘You know what…I’m wrecked. I think I might….’ He glanced at the skylight – his exit from this conversation.

But she captured his gaze again, holding him there, seeing right through him. Then she stood too. ‘Me too. I used to stay up so late before, but now I can’t seem to make it to ten o’clock.’

He gave a faint laugh, then gestured for her to climb down the hatch first, before he followed.

They ran through their bedtime routines, then lay down on the floor, snuggling under their sleeping bags and blanket. Without thinking about it, he turned onto his side, towards Marinette. She’d turned too, so they were facing.

A pale sliver of moonlight cut through the room, illuminating the edges of her face. As she clutched the blanket at her neck, she looked smaller than she had on the balcony. ‘Adrien, I’m…I’m scared. My nightmare….’

He could feel her trembling, even with that space between them. Whatever discomfort he’d felt with her when she’d pressed him about the email, it dissolved now. Without a word, he put an arm around her, drawing her head onto his chest and holding her close.

For support, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just….

Magic. Holding her there made his nerves tingle with a magic stronger than the one in his hands. Enough to make him believe everything might be okay.

But it couldn’t. Especially not now, with Felix out there. Every instinct in his body told him it was so.

The real nightmare wasn’t in their heads. It was outside.

Waiting for them. 

Chapter Text

Adrien gnawed at his fingernails as he watched Ivan heap soil into the hole.

Three graves, now. Not two – three. There was no debating what this was anymore. They had a graveyard, right there in the corner of the park…with plenty of space for more occupants.

Beside him, Luka stared at the hole, his face white and strained and his hands clenched at his sides. Luka, who’d found this one. Only a baby. Of breastfeeding age. Dehydrated. Cradled in her older brother’s arms in the car they’d been trapped in.

Older. He was still only five years old. Not old enough to be dealing with this.

Neither are we. 

He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. It was colder than the day before, and the sky was grey, threatening cold rain. Almost like real November weather, before the dome had come down. Like the climate was making up for lost time. 

But could it rain? Were there any clouds inside the dome? Or were they all on the other side? 

An awful shudder ran through him. When he and Marinette had run into Luka bringing the child and the…the body back…Luka had been shaking. He hadn’t even reacted that way when the girl in the fire had died, or when Adrien had handed him the baby they’d found at the Eiffel Tower. But it was different, being the one to make the discovery.

He hadn’t spoken a word since.

Marinette had gone back to the daycare to drop off the baby's brother and retrieve Ivan, who’d joined Adrien and Luka in the park. He was the strongest of them – the only one capable of cutting through the hard earth like that.

Ivan had stared at the baby…then got to work, also without speaking.

The silence was so thick, it connected them, like thread.

It had been three days now – three days since Felix had taken over. Five days since they’d been cut off from all the adults. In that time, they still hadn’t begun to cover the area they needed to search. The longer it took, the longer they left children – babies – starving. Dehydrating. Dying.

And at some point, they’d hit the limits of the dome.

Then, everyone would know what they were dealing with. And before that….

Marinette and I need to come clean. Tell people what we already know.

If they left it too late, they’d be trapped in a lie. No one would trust them again.

But how the hell did you just tell people a thing like that? 

He glanced around the park. Most of the other kids had cleared out as soon as they’d stalked in with the baby. But a few lingered a short distance away…watching. Maybe it was voyeurism…or maybe it was just shock. Their bodies were still, their faces blank as they tried to process what they were seeing. To accept it.

To accept that this was their reality, now. A growing graveyard in the corner of what used to be a bustling park they’d all hang out in on a warm sunny day, having picnics and eating ice cream and playing football.

It was hard to imagine anyone playing a game ever again.

‘It’s done.’ Ivan’s voice was weary. He leaned on his spade, wiping the sweat off his brow. It wasn’t a large body, which meant it wasn’t a large hole. But that had nothing to do with how hard the work had been. ‘Please don’t make me do this again.’

Adrien shot a look at Luka, whose eyes were still on the grave. ‘W-we can ask someone else if we….’

Ivan shook his head. ‘That’s not what I mean. I mean, I don’t want any more kids to die. I'm – I'm helping at the daycare, for fuck’s sake. I love kids – live ones running around laughing, or even crying. Don’t let any more of them die, Adrien.’

Adrien swallowed thickly, his mouth dry. Ivan never swore. He really meant this. He really wanted Adrien to make that promise.

But it wasn’t his promise to make. The only power he’d been given was to destroy.

Luka stepped away, turning around and walking to one of the fountains. He sat on the lip, staring across the park. At least he wasn’t staring at the grave anymore.

Adrien and Ivan joined him, sitting on either side. Adrien leaned forward on his knees. They should…they should say something but….

Crunching footsteps drew his gaze up, towards the gates across the park. It said something about how quiet it was, that he could hear them. 

Marinette, Alya, Nino and Mylene were walking down the footpath.

Marinette.

Just seeing her made his shoulders a little lighter, and he sat up straighter.

Their friends joined them at the fountain. Mylene wrapped her arms around Ivan. With him sitting and her standing, they looked about the same height, for once. ‘Oh, my teddy bear.’

He hugged her back, a fierce hug that matched her nickname for him, and sniffed while she stroked his hair.

Adrien looked away, to give them privacy – and to stop the image in his head of Marinette holding him like that. Touching his hair like that.

She sat beside him on the fountain, taking his hand. Hers was trembling, like his. They’d both seen it. The shape of the body wrapped in Luka’s jacket. A shape that was becoming too familiar, too soon.

He squeezed her hand. ‘...how’s the brother?’

Marinette bit her lip, her chin wobbling. ‘H-He’s like…like Manon but…but….’

‘...Manon?’

‘He’s…not talking,’ said Alya.

Adrien glanced at Luka next to him, who was now staring at his feet. Another one not talking.

Beside Alya, Nino was shaking his head. ‘This is…it’s messed up, dudes. I don’t even…. Thank you – for…for dealing with it.’

Dealing with it. Adrien swallowed. ‘Someone has to do it. Thanks for…for coming, and….'  

‘Of course, man. I mean, what you just….’ Nino’s gaze went to the grave, like he couldn’t help it.

‘Who’s – who’s looking after the boy?’

‘M-Marc. It’s not his usual job, but…a lot more people have jumped in to help since Felix rolled in.’

Adrien’s shoulders tensed at the name. ‘Where is our fearless leader, anyway?’

Nino turned back to him, his brow furrowed in confusion. ‘I think he’s at the museum.’

Marinette let out a flat laugh. ‘Don’t let him hear you say that.’ Her voice was tight – bitter.

Alya arched an eyebrow. ‘...museum?’

Marinette nodded. ‘Yesterday, I made the mistake of calling it that, and Felix actually cleared his throat, like, “A-HHHEM!” and said, “The what, now?”’

Adrien lifted an eyebrow. ‘What did you say?’

She shrugged, her shoulders hunched. ‘I said, “The Council Room.” Actually, I…may have shouted it. And Felix said, “Better.” Honestly, who does he think he is?’

Nino frowned. ‘Cut him some slack, guys. I know he’s a little… eccentric.’

Adrien snorted.

‘But you have to admit, he has made things better.’

‘He’s right,’ said Alya. ‘It’s been almost a full week now and…well…as long as we’re here…we need that order. Without it, more kids could die.’

Ivan leapt to his feet, making them jump. ‘I can’t take this. I’m – I’m going back to the daycare.’

Mylene pressed his hand. ‘I’ll go with you.’

He locked eyes with her, maybe reminding himself that there were still good things in this world they’d found themselves in – then bent down to kiss her, before they nodded in parting and hurried across the park together.

As they stepped through the exit, someone else came in.

Lila.

Marinette’s grip on Adrien’s hand tightened. Felix was one thing, but Lila was…something else. The way she strutted around like she owned the place. The sycophantic looks she shot Felix, like she thought she had a chance when it was obvious he only saw Kagami. That exaggerated innocence laced through every word she spoke.

She sauntered towards them, stopping at the graveyard. Crouching down. Angling her head. Studying the damn thing, like she knew anything about digging graves.

Some secret past she hadn’t shared with them?

Then she stood again and joined them at the fountain, standing beside Nino. Whatever their different opinions on Felix, they all seemed to be united about Lila, because Alya tugged Nino away from her.

Even Luka lifted his head, his shoulders squared and his eyes alert, pinned on the new arrival.

Lila smiled. ‘It’s a shame Ivan was in such a rush to get back to the daycare. I wanted to congratulate him on his work. It’s very satisfactory.’

Very satisfactory.

Adrien bit back the words itching on his tongue. How many headstones would you give it, Lila? Come on, out of five, like the stars they give restaurants. Three, maybe? We’ll try harder next time.

Lila crossed her arms. ‘Why are you all just hanging out in the park? You do have other tasks to be getting on with.’

Marinette’s eyes hardened. When she spoke, her voice shook. ‘We just buried a baby. You really expect us to just… carry on with our day? Like the child just – just didn’t mean anything?’

‘...did you know it?’

‘Her,’ said Luka, returning to them at last.

‘Alright…did you know her? ’

No one replied.

‘Just as I thought.’ She dropped her arms. ‘Look. I get that it’s sad. I mean, it’s a baby with those podgy little arms and legs and those cute little eyes. But you still have responsibilities. We all do.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Adrien could barely contain his anger. ‘And what’s yours?’

‘Why…to make sure all of you aren’t slacking off, of course.’

He rolled his eyes.

Her forehead furrowed in irritation. ‘ Someone has to keep order, you know. Before we showed up, you were a mess. If Felix hadn’t taken over when he did, your graveyard would be a lot bigger than it is.’

A shiver raced down Adrien’s spine.

Marinette growled. ‘You can cut the crap, Lila. He’s not here to listen to you sucking up.’

Her smile froze. ‘I’m not sucking up. I’m speaking the truth. I never lie, you know.’

‘Oh, I’m sure. Just tell us, Lila, what kind of power does Felix have over you?’

Her eyebrow twitched. ‘...power?’

‘Yeah – power. You can’t tell me he won you over with his sparkling personality.’

Lila put her fists on her hips. ‘I’ll have you know, Marinette, that there’s no power Felix could use on me.’ She spat out the words, her envy coming out with every syllable.

Adrien’s mouth parted. ‘So he can do things.’

She blinked – then crossed her arms again, her mouth curling into a scowl. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘He can do things – and you can’t. Is that what’s got you so angry, Lila?’

Her eyes flashed.

‘Give it time,’ said Alya, her voice tired. ‘If what people are saying is true…it seems like more kids are developing powers every day.’

‘Just one more reason why we need order,’ Lila said. ‘If people are allowed to run around with these – these abilities, unchecked, then they might –’

Whatever horror scenario she was about to present was cut off by the sound of a child screaming. A girl. 

She was running through the park, chased by two burly boys in the private school uniform, both maybe fourteen years old. Twice her age. 

Adrien’s heart stuttered. The girl’s face…it was familiar. He knew her.

Behind her pursuers was a group of kids he didn’t recognise, their faces animated as they all shouted at once, their words lost in the din.

Spotting them at the fountain, the girl raced towards them. The closer she came, the more detail Adrien made out. Blood streamed down the side of her face, and her clothes were torn, like she’d had a tumble on some very nasty rocks.

‘Josie!’ Marinette cried. 

She ran straight to Marinette, whose arms were outstretched, half falling into them. ‘They – they – !’

The private school thugs skidded to a halt, blocking her in like prison bars, while the other kids crowded around behind.

Lila narrowed her eyes at the thugs, one boy tall with dark hair and an oddly shaped nose, like he’d broken it once and it hadn’t set properly – the other a little shorter, blond, with a slight paunch and a mean face. She turned to the dark-haired boy first. ‘Arnaud – what happened?’

‘She was breaking the rules.’

This wasn’t an explanation. The crowd were grumbling, some even shouting again.

‘They hit her! ’ a girl yelled.

Marinette was inspecting Josie’s face. ‘With what? A metal club?’

The thugs looked at the ground.

‘Oh my god….’ Marinette wrapped her arms around the girl again, holding her close.

‘She was breaking the rules!’ Arnaud whined.

…rules?

‘And she thinks she can run away from punishment,’ the other thug said. ‘She needs to learn.’

When the boy took a step towards Marinette and Josie, Adrien jumped off the fountain, putting himself in front of them.

‘Out of the way,’ the blond boy snarled. ‘This isn’t about you.’

Adrien stepped out his legs to make his barrier wider. ‘I think I just made it about me.’

‘And us,’ said Luka.

Alya, Nino and Luka were on their feet too, standing beside him, extending the wall in front of Marinette and Josie.

Their audience crowded in closer, some on tiptoe to get a better look. Like they expected a fight.

Like they expected blood.

When Arnaud threw the first punch, Adrien dodged, grabbing his arm. Holding it in place. Squeezing it.

‘Ow!’ Arnaud cried.

A very satisfactory response.

Adrien gripped him harder, a tingling in his hand. Like a…a heat or a….

With a jolt, he dropped the boy’s arm, shoving his own hands behind his back, clasping them together. Like….

Like Felix always did.

Arnaud was whimpering and shaking out his arm, shooting him looks like he knew what had been in his mind. What could have happened, if Adrien hadn’t stopped himself.

Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he’ll think twice next time he wants to attack a small child.

Standing between the two factions, Lila let out a grunt, like this was all one big nuisance. ‘For fuck’s sake…. Look, no one wants children to be hurt, but…rules are rules.’

‘But she didn’t do anything wrong!’ a boy yelled.

She turned to the crowd. ‘DID I ASK YOU?’

They fell silent.

She smoothed out her face, a smile forming as she turned to the second thug. ‘Now then. Guy, how about you give us the rundown of what happened.’

He pursed his lips, darting a glance at Arnaud, like he wasn’t sure it was okay to speak without his permission. ‘Um. Well. She was…she was using her power.’

A fresh chill ran down Adrien’s back, even through his coat. People were just talking about it now. In the open. Like it was a fact of life….

Like the graveyard.

Lila’s smile had dropped. ‘Her power.’

‘She was just doing a magic trick,’ someone in the crowd said.

‘She wasn’t hurting anyone,’ another voice said.

Arnaud scowled. ‘She was breaking the rules, and Felix hired us to take care of anyone who –’

‘Wait.’ Alya stepped forward. ‘What are you, the police or something?’

‘Security.’ Arnaud puffed up his chest, a proud grin on his stupid, ugly face.

‘ What? Why do we need –’

‘Enough.’ Lila put up a hand, right in Alya’s face. ‘I’m trying to think here, and you won’t stop with your endless, boring chatter.’

Alya blanched, her mouth open like she was too stunned to say any more.

Lila rubbed her temples like she had a tension headache. ‘Okay, let me see the child.’

Adrien and his human wall didn’t budge.

Her eyes narrowed in irritation. ‘I said…let…me see…the child.’ When that didn’t work, she relaxed her face again. ‘I’m not going to hurt her. What do you take me for? I just want to talk to her. You can keep holding her or whatever you want to do, if it makes you feel better.’

Adrien hesitated…then twisted round to meet Marinette’s eyes, throwing an unspoken question her way. What do you want to do?

She held Josie tight, pressing her before taking a slow step forwards. Adrien gave them enough space to join the line, framed between him and Luka.

Lila leaned forward so she was eye level with the girl. ‘Now, J…Ja…Jo….’

‘Josie,’ Marinette said.

‘Right. Josie. Arnaud and Guy here are much older than you. They clearly know better than you. When they tell you to stop doing a thing, you should stop.’

Josie didn’t answer. She was shaking, the blood still trickling down her face.

Lila straightened, turning to her thugs. ‘But Arnaud – Guy – you shouldn’t have hit.’

Arnaud’s jaw dropped. ‘ What? But you told us to –’

‘I’m sure I didn’t say anything about beating up children for no good reason. Physical punishment should only be used when it is absolutely necessary. You need to remember to use your words, Arnaud.’

He shrank back, even though he was so much bigger than her. ‘I didn’t mean to hit her so hard….’

She patted him on the arm. ‘I know. I’m sure it was all an unhappy misunderstanding. You should apologise. Both of you.’

Arnaud and Guy stared at her, then mumbled out, ‘Sorry.’

She smiled. ‘Wonderful! We can all be friends again.’

Marinette had gone red. ‘Friends? Friends? ’

‘She’s hurt,’ Luka said.

Lila nodded. ‘Yes, it’s very sad. Next time, Josie, just stop when someone says stop, okay? Give her a plaster and she’ll be fine.’

Alya’s eyes rounded. ‘A plaster? For that injury?’

‘This is way out of order,’ Nino said.

She shrugged. ‘None of this would’ve happened if she’d just followed the rules.’

‘ What rules?’ Marinette snapped.

‘...you haven’t seen them? I thought for sure Felix would’ve shown them to you – bearing in mind how important you all are.’ She smirked. ‘Arnaud. Please give them the latest copy of the rules. Felix had them written out this morning.’

Arnaud dug into his pocket, bringing out a crumpled, folded piece of paper and handing it to Marinette.

Without looking at it, she shoved it in her pocket, her eyes never leaving Lila.

Lila grinned. ‘Well. Now you know the rules. And I trust little Josie won’t try to perform any more magic tricks?’

Josie shrank back, burying herself in Marinette’s side.

‘Perfect! My work here is done. Everyone, you can go home or go to your jobs or…whatever it is you should be doing instead of standing around here.’ She stared at the crowd, who stared back…before stepping away, turning, heading out of the park.

Lila snapped her fingers at her thugs, and they hopped to attention behind her, like they’d received some real training – dog training, maybe.

She started walking away…then paused at the graveyard, giving it one last look. ‘It really is very satisfactory,’ she said, before heading out of the park.

When she was gone, Adrien let out a breath. Their wall broke, and they crowded round Josie, inspecting her head.

‘Maybe we should take her to the hospital,’ said Alya.

The hospital. Like it was an actual building with doctors and nurses and equipment, and not the backroom of a pharmacy with two teenagers. 

Marinette shuddered. ‘No. I…I…Laurent is still….’

The image of him crying on the floor was as cold as the park.

Nino put up a hand. ‘I can go. I’ll get some first aid supplies and bring them back. We probably shouldn’t move her too much anyway.’

Marinette gave a small nod. ‘Th-thanks, Nino.’

He nodded in return, sharing a look with Alya before hurrying away.

Adrien glanced around the park. ‘I know what Nino just said, but…maybe we should at least get her somewhere a little more private.’ Somewhere not near the graveyard.

Her eyes wavered, like she’d heard his unspoken thought. Then she started shifting Josie, and Adrien helped Marinette move her to a more secluded corner of the park, with Alya and Luka following.

‘I d-didn’t mean to do anything b-bad,’ Josie said, her voice strangled. ‘I j-just wanted to make Denis l-laugh.’

Adrien tensed, meeting Marinette’s eyes…then Alya’s and Luka’s.

Sitting on the grass with her, Marinette pressed the little girl’s hand. ‘What did you do to make your brother laugh?’

Josie’s lips remained sealed. She was trembling again.

‘It’s okay,’ Adrien said. ‘You can show us. You won’t get in trouble. We don’t even know what the – the rules are.’

Her eyes were wet and uncertain. Then she raised one of her little hands, still chubby with leftover baby fat, concentrating on it. There was a tiny spark – expanding – until a little ball of light hovered in the air above her palm.

Adrien sucked in a breath. Alya was right. There really did seem to be more and more of them developing powers.

The light went out, and Josie dropped her hand, her arm weak like she was exhausted.

Marinette helped the girl lie down, lifting her head onto her lap. Blood gushed on Marinette’s jeans. Her hand hovered over the girl’s head…then dove in, through the blood, stroking her hair like a mother might. ‘You’re going to be okay, Josie. I know the blood is scary, but…it’s just because you hurt your head. There’s a lot of blood in our heads, to keep our brains healthy.’ She kept her voice calm, though the tremble of her hand betrayed just how shaken and angry she was.

Luka knelt beside them. ‘One time, I tripped and my head bled for ages. But then my mum cleaned me up and the cut was so tiny. I bet yours isn’t so bad, either.’

But it could’ve been. If those thugs had carried on…if they’d hit her even harder…it could’ve all been so much worse.

Adrien sat next Marinette – close, so she knew she wasn’t alone with this. She flashed him a weary look of thanks before gazing down again at Josie, whose eyes were haunted, like she was still seeing the attack.

Then Luka started singing. The syllables were quiet, soft, but clear enough to hear.

It was a lullaby. One Adrien’s mother used to sing to him when he was a child. His eyes prickled – at the memory – at the graveyard – at every damn thing they’d been lauded with since the dome had come down.

When the song finished, Luka sang it again.

Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques….

Alya sat beside him, joining in.

Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?

When Marinette added her voice, it was as beautiful as he might have expected. Sweet. Soft.

Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines….

Adrien’s throat tickled, the song drawing sounds from him. Sounds he didn’t know he could make, the final words coming out in a whisper.

Din, din, don. Din, din, don….

In Marinette’s lap, Josie’s eyes closed, her expression peaceful as they waited for Nino to return with the first aid supplies.

Chapter Text

Seated on the grass, with Josie in her lap, Marinette continued to stroke the little girl’s hair. Her other hand gripped Josie’s, reminding her she was there. She was held.

There was still a lot of blood – but it was slowing, now. And as she’d told Josie – as she kept telling herself – the wound wasn’t as bad as it looked…it wasn’t as bad as it looked….

Adrien knelt beside her, rifling through the small first aid kit Nino had brought back from the pharmacy – hospital – Unicorn Centre – whatever. On the grass, he was spreading out bandages and wipes and tape and other medical things Marinette had never seen.

‘Here.’ Alya handed her a bottle of water, then stood back, beside Nino, biting her lip as she watched Marinette work.

Marinette unscrewed the lid and poured the water onto Josie’s head. Some trickled down onto her leg, the liquid cold, but she didn’t flinch.

Josie made a weak noise in protest, her eyes squeezing shut. She was trembling a little – from fear, adrenaline, shock.

‘It’s okay,’ Marinette said, though her own hand shook too. ‘It’s just water.’

Water that washed away some of the fresher blood, but not the dark crust that had formed over the wound, sticking to Josie’s matted hair. 

Matted because her mother was no longer around to brush her daughter’s hair. 

Luka crouched beside Adrien, pointing at the pile of things. ‘Try that there. It’s a saline solution. It could help clean the wound.’

Adrien picked up the item – a thin, cylindrical container with clear liquid inside – opened it, and parted Josie’s hair enough to squeeze some of the solution straight onto the gash. Next was an alcohol wipe, which he carefully ran over the skin. Josie squirmed, and Marinette pressed her hand.

Nino was nibbling at his fingernails. ‘Does she need stitches?’

Marinette shared an uncertain glance with Adrien. ‘I...I don’t know.’

‘I don’t know either,’ Adrien said. ‘I don’t...I don’t think so? If we just bandage it up, it should be fine....’

He unravelled one of the bandages, and the two of them worked together to wrap the bandage around her head several times, fastening it with a safety pin. 

‘There,’ Adrien said.

It looked far from professional, but…it was the best they could do. 

Josie rubbed at her eyes and made to sit up further. ‘D-Denis –’  

‘Hey, no.’ Marinette held her. ‘I’m sure Denis is fine. He’s at the daycare, isn’t he? You need to rest. You should stay here for a –’  

‘N-no.’ Josie tugged out of her arms, pushing herself to her feet and swaying unsteadily. She shook her head, then winced. ‘I want to see Denis. It doesn’t hurt very bad now, just a little.’

Marinette hesitated. She wanted to pull Josie back down, force her to sit...but this wasn’t her child. She wasn’t a toddler you could just hold down. And Josie seemed pretty determined to be on her way.

Alya pursed her lips. ‘We can take her back to the daycare…and then come back in a minute?’ She glanced at Marinette’s jeans – at her pocket. 

The list of rules Lila had given her burned against her thigh. ‘O-okay. Yeah. That’s...that’s good.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ Luka said. ‘I’d like to check on….’

The boy. The brother of the…the baby.

Somehow, they were all working hard not to look in the direction of the graveyard.

All except Josie, who glanced over at the corner of the park, then looked down at Marinette, fidgeting with her hands like she was shy. ‘Thank you for cleaning my head.’

Not knowing what else to do, Marinette gave a small nod.

Then Josie allowed Alya to take her hand, following her, Nino and Luka across the park, in the direction of the daycare.

When they disappeared out the park gates, Adrien placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. ‘You okay?’

She exhaled shakily. ‘Y-yeah.’ And she was. This wasn’t like with Laurent. Josie was fine now. It was nowhere near as serious. And yet….

‘Marinette –’

‘Someone shot Laurent.’

‘...I know.’

‘And someone hit Josie in the head. ’

‘I…I know.’

‘That’s two injuries caused by other people, Adrien. Caused by other kids! Two injuries caused because of – of –’ She broke off in a gasp, lowering her voice. ‘Because of powers.’

He stilled…maybe wondering when it was his turn. The image chilled her blood. If anything happened to him –

She pressed her hands to her eyes. ‘Josie’s only seven – seven! Who attacks a seven-year-old?’

‘I…I wish I could give you an answer but….’

But he couldn’t. No one could. Because there was no reasoning, no explanation. What had happened was just – just –

She dropped her hands, taking a deep breath. When she saw her fingers, her heart tumbled. They were covered in blood – again. Josie’s blood, this time. And judging by the haunted expression in Adrien’s eyes, it was on her face, now, too.

He reached over, retrieving the bottle of water and a spare bandage, spilling some of it onto the fabric and rubbing at her face. There was no thought behind the action. No hesitation. It was expected. It was what they did, now.

When he’d finished, his eyes locked on hers, the park seeming to fade away for one small moment.

A sound made them turn. Footsteps. Alya, Nino and Luka, walking back through the park, stopping and sitting across from them.

Alya tried for a tiny smile. ‘I think she’s…I think Josie’s okay. I mean…physically, anyway. She's with Denis now.'

Adrien turned to Luka. ‘And the…the boy?’

Luka’s shoulders tensed. ‘He’s…still not talking.’

They shared a look.

Then Nino cleared his throat, pointing at Marinette’s pocket. ‘So, are we going to read these rules, or what?’

All eyes were on her, now – Adrien’s, most of all.

‘R-right.’ She reached into her pocket, fumbling until she’d pulled out the crumpled piece of paper that horrible boy – Arnaud –  had handed to her. She unfolded it, staring at it.

It was a list, numbered 1-10 and written in neat cursive. Felix’s, maybe? Trust him to have such fancy handwriting.

Then again, he probably wouldn’t waste time doing work himself. Someone else must have copied it out.

‘Well?’ said Alya. ‘What does it say?’

Marinette flashed her a look – then the others – then started reading. ‘Rule number one...Felix Fathom is the Mayor of Paris.’ 

Adrien scowled. ‘The Mayor? I’m surprised he didn’t crown himself Emperor while he was at it.’

Luka was shaking his head. ‘Do you think he wrote this out himself?’

‘If he did, he’s even weirder than I thought. Who writes about themselves like that in the third person? How full of himself is he?’

Nino sighed. ‘I agree Mayor is a little….’ He seemed unable to find the right adjective. ‘But let’s face it – someone had to take charge. Like we said before…without him, we wouldn't have so many people helping out. No one wanted to do anything before.’

Marinette frowned. Nino was right – but Mayor? After a few days?

‘What’s rule number two?’ Alya asked.

Marinette stared – then remembered she held the paper. ‘Right. Um. Rule number two...Lila is appointed Sheriff and has the power to enforce the rules.’ 

Adrien’s expression twisted, his hands balling into fists. ‘I’m sorry, but I hate that girl.’

It was startling, hearing him speak like this. Adrien, who always wanted to give everyone a fair chance. And they’d only known Lila for three days. Yet, Marinette hated her, too.

Alya was nodding. ‘She’s messed up. She didn’t seem to care at all that Josie was hurt.’

‘And the way she talked about the graves ….’ Luka’s eyes were hard, his hands clenched like Adrien’s.

‘She can’t be the fucking Sheriff ,’ Adrien said. ‘What the hell is Felix thinking? ’

Nino’s brows furrowed in uncertainty. ‘Look, I don’t like her either…but it doesn’t say she gets to do whatever she wants. It says she has the power to enforce the rules. If the rules are okay, then….’ He shrugged.

‘Nino –’ Adrien stopped himself, letting out a breath like he was trying to get under control.

It was probably time to move on. Marinette continued reading. ‘Rule number three...Adrien and Marinette are responsible for emergencies.’

Adrien blinked, his expression just as surprised as hers. ‘What?’

She re-read the rule, half expecting it to say different names. But…no. There they were, in that same handwriting. Adrien and Marinette. Maybe it should’ve been flattering that Felix considered them important enough to write their names on a list of rules – but it didn’t.

And god, it felt weird reading her name in the third person.

Adrien crossed his arms. ‘He’s only done this because he knows people already look up to us. He’s trying to get us on side.’

Nino shook his head. ‘ So? I mean…what’s so bad about that?’

‘Don’t you get it, Nino? He’s manipulating us.’

‘...you really get all that from him honouring you ? ’

Adrien’s mouth fell open…then closed. Because there was no way to put this feeling into words. On the surface, it did look the way Nino had suggested. Yet every hair on Marinette’s arms was standing on end. Luka shifted on the grass like he was uncomfortable, too.

She cleared her throat. ‘Rule number four...no one can enter a guarded supermarket or food store and remove anything without permission.’

‘Well, that’s no surprise,’ Alya said. ‘Felix already announced as much to everyone a couple days ago.’

That was true. He’d even assigned his...friends? classmates? fellow academy students? subjects? and some Françoise Dupont students to begin guarding the two largest supermarkets near the park. So far, guarded just meant a few kids sitting around outside, checking everyone who came in.

‘It was a great idea,’ Nino said. ‘Moving all the food from other shops into a more central location? Dumping all that meat and seafood and rotting veg in the Seine? If he hadn’t got us all organised, we could’ve had deadly bacteria growing all over the place.’

Another good point.

So why had her shoulders tensed?

‘R-rule number five...everybody has to help at the daycare and help with anything Alya and Nino need, whenever they ask.’

Alya let out a breath. ‘Thank god he put that in writing.’

Nino nodded. ‘Seriously. We have eight kids helping us every day now. One of the classrooms is almost completely filled with stuff. We even had someone bring in bags full of clothes and bedding and towels this morning.’

No one could argue with that.

‘Rule number six... thou shalt not kill.’

Adrien’s eyes rounded. ‘What?’

Even Nino looked shocked. ‘No way, dude.’

She glanced up at them all. ‘Just kidding. Six…we all have to help out with jobs, searching homes...etc.’

That was fair.

‘Seven…everyone has to pass information on any bad behaviour to Lila.’

Luka’s brow rose. ‘So we’re…all supposed to be informers.’

Nino scratched his head. ‘ Informers is a strong word, dude. I mean…I’m sure it’s more like…like when we’re at school, you know? If someone does something bad, like they hurt someone or something, you talk to a teacher, don’t you.’

Adrien gripped his hands together in his lap, like he was trying to hold them back. Like he was scared he might do something. ‘One little problem with your analogy, Nino. When were any of our teachers like Lila? ’

Nino’s mouth parted…but no words came out.

Marinette focused on the list. ‘Number eight...people will not perform magic tricks or any other action that causes fear or worry.’

‘Magic tricks?’ Alya said.

Luka gritted his teeth. ‘That’s how Lila described Josie’s power. ’

Oh god. He was right. ‘This is the rule she was talking about,’ Marinette said.

Adrien’s gaze shot to her. ‘And this is just what we were saying the other day. He doesn’t want anyone other than him using powers.’

‘Whoa, hold up.’ Nino put up his hands. ‘What do you mean, other than him ? You saying Felix has a power?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

‘That earthquake the other day, in the Council room….’ Luka murmured. ‘It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural.’

Nino rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Dude… nothing about any of this is normal or natural. You seriously think he made the room shake like that?’

Alya nodded. ‘Yeah, he wouldn’t ban people from using powers if he had them himself.’

Marinette gripped the paper tight. ‘He would if he wanted to be the only one using them.’

Nino exchanged a look with Alya. ‘I dunno…. Why don’t you read the rest of the list?’

She looked back down, loosening her hands and forcing her voice to remain steady. ‘Rule number nine…we are in a state of emergency. During the crisis, no one should criticise, ridicule, or hinder any of the people performing their official duties. Seriously!? ’ 

‘Well, we are in a crisis,’ Nino said.

‘What, so we’re suddenly not allowed to say anything?’ Adrien said.

Nino shook his head. ‘What’s with you, dude? We’ve, like, never had a fight in our lives, and now you’re attacking every word out of my mouth.’

‘I’m not –’ Adrien froze, maybe hearing how loud he was…then lowered his voice. ‘I’m not attacking you, Nino. I just don’t feel comfortable with these rules.’

‘I hear that. The whole city hears that. But like I said before…it’s like school, right? We can’t just insult the teachers.’

‘And like I said before, you’ve never had a teacher like Lila Rossi.’ He’d raised his voice again and didn’t seem to care. ‘Alya, what do you think about this rule?’

Alya’s gaze darted between him and her boyfriend. ‘Well…I mean…I kinda agree with Nino. We are in a crisis….’

Adrien threw his hands in the air. ‘I don’t believe it. What happened to Alya, the Bastion of Free Speech?’

‘Adrien –’

‘ LAST RULE , guys!’

They jumped, waiting.

‘Rule number ten...the Sheriff may decide that the above rules are insufficient to cover some emergency situations. In those cases, the Sheriff may formulate whatever rules are needed to keep order and keep people safe.’

The others stared at her, but she only stared at the paper. Then she crumpled it up again, into a ball, anger hot in her veins. ‘This is wrong. ’

Nino was shaking his head. ‘Again – we are in a cri –’

Adrien put up a hand, stopping him. ‘Don’t, Nino. Just…don’t.’

Marinette shoved the paper back in her pocket. ‘Felix and Lila can do what ever they want, when ever they want.’

Luka nodded. ‘And he’s getting people to start suspecting each other. To turn against each other.’

‘How?’ Alya said.

‘With the powers. Four people have a confirmed power, so far. Five, if we count Felix. And there must be others, too. But some people don’t…as far as we know. Like me – I haven’t been breathing fire or sprouting wings or anything.’ He let out a dry laugh that no one shared. ‘What happened with Laurent…it’ll happen again. People will get jealous. They’ll get scared. And everyone was already weirded out without powers. They’ll look for someone to blame. A scapegoat.’

A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine as they all let those words sink in. She looked at Adrien, who was staring at the ground.

‘Dude.’ Nino’s voice sounded loud after the silence. ‘That’s....’

‘Crazy?’ Luka’s expression was hard. ‘What isn’t?’

Nino flinched. ‘...I just...look, Felix seems like a good guy. He’s trying to help people, not divide them. Sure, having this list is a little weird, but...he’s just trying to keep things organised. We all are.’

Tense silence filled the space between them. Nino looked exhausted. So did Alya. Even with the help Felix had organised for them, there were dark circles under their eyes.

Marinette stood. ‘I’m going to the daycare. I want to collect the kids.’ Her heart stuttered at how easily those words had slid off her tongue. The kids. Like they were hers.

Ours.

Alya blinked at her. ‘Already?’

‘It's getting late.’ It wasn’t. She and Adrien could go out for another hour or two of searching, until the sun dipped below the opaque horizon. But the thought of walking…and walking…only to find…to find….

The image of the small form under that jacket filled her mind, and she wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to look off to the side, at the graves.

The cemetery. 

Adrien stood, too. He didn’t question her. And he didn’t need to speak for her to know he would follow her – that they would go together. She couldn’t think of a single time in the past week when she’d been away from him for more than half an hour.

Alya exchanged a look with the others. Then they all stood, too. She took Nino’s hand. ‘Alright. I guess we’ll go with you. We need to get back to work, anyway.’ 

Marinette forced down a lump forming in her throat. They could quit for the day, but Alya and Nino couldn’t. Little kids…they had no concept of ‘working hours’. When they needed you, they needed you.

Luka’s gaze kept flickering to the graveyard. ‘I think I’ll check on Laurent. See how he’s…and Rose and my sister….’

That awful silence settled between them again. The kind of silence that was heavy with memories.

Flashbacks.

Without further discussion, they started walking across the park. At the exit, Luka gave them a small wave, not even saying goodbye. Then he went one way, towards the Unicorn Centre, while they headed for the daycare.

Alya and Nino walked ahead of them, not speaking.

Adrien kept in step with Marinette, wrapping his hand around hers – a hand that held power.

A power that was now against the rules. 

Chapter Text

Alya was woken by the alarm blaring beside her head. A little clock running on batteries.

A week ago, the sound would’ve meant school. But not anymore. Outside, the sky was still dark. There were no classes to rush to. And Nino was lying beside her, rubbing his eyes, then rolling off the mattress on the floor at the same time she did, groping around for his glasses.

He yawned, stretching his arms high. ‘Our shift already?’

‘Mm.’ That was about as much speech as she could manage, at this hour.

They shared a quick hug – the most affection they had time for. Then they dressed and headed out of the apartment, downstairs, to the nursery. Mylene sat in a corner, cradling one of the infants in her arms and feeding it from a bottle. Ivan was at one of the cots, laying another baby down. 

Alya and Nino approached on soft footsteps. It was an impossible task, trying to manage all the infants in one room. One woke up, cried, and woke all the others up.

Thank god for Mylene and Ivan. Thank god for everyone else Felix has sent. Thank god, thank god, thank god.

She only faintly remembered the twins’ first year. She’d been eight when they were born. Until that first night she and Nino had spent at the daycare, she’d forgotten how much they cried. How much they needed to eat. 

The books they’d found scattered around the place, on how to care for infants…they were all written for mothers. As if that’s what she was. As if these were all her children. All twenty-three of them – eleven under the age of eight months. But reading about it wasn’t the same as living it.

She dropped a hand on Mylene’s shoulder. ‘I’ll take it from here,’ she whispered. ‘You get some sleep.’

Mylene stared back like she’d forgotten what the word meant. Then she nodded, and there was an awkward exchange, the baby passing from her arms into Alya’s, along with the bottle.

Alya took up Mylene’s seat, fighting sleep as she fed the baby. Mylene and Ivan left the room without a word.

Across the room, one of the other babies stirred, making noises, and Nino lifted him from his cot, sitting with him on a bean bag and feeding him before he could wake anyone else.

Before , she’d often daydreamed about their future together. Imagined moments like this. Except, in her mind, the baby was theirs. And they were older. So much older. But here they were, both caring for other people’s children. They didn’t even know the babies’ names.

She stared across the room, her mind drifting as the baby suckled. At this hour, the minutes blurred together.

When a new cry grabbed her attention, she realised the one she was holding had finished eating and fallen asleep at some point. She forced herself onto her feet and laid the baby back in his cot before attending to the next one.

Time passed in a strange haze, she and Nino moving almost on autopilot. Holding the babies when they cried. Changing nappies. Standing. Kneeling on the floor. Then someone knocked at the door, and she looked at the window. The sun had started to rise, faint light peeking through the blinds. From the other rooms, she could hear some of the older children waking up.

The door opened, and two of the volunteers – Bea, just thirteen, with her eleven-year-old sister Madeline – entered the nursery, here to help with breakfast. As if on cue, Alya’s stomach rumbled.

Bea gave a small wave. ‘M-morning.’

Alya yawned. ‘Morning.’

There was another awkward exchange of children, of responsibilities, and Alya and Nino padded out of the nursery, to the kitchen.

The most tedious part of this job was filling bottles with formula. They were making them round the clock, which required meticulous planning, because they needed time to cool.

Plus, the books said they needed to be sterilised, and the water boiled. They had a microwave, an electric kettle, and even a steriliser. But every time they used these, they were running down the generator’s energy. What happened if the power switched off? How would they prevent infection?

Not to mention, it was a nightmare washing out the bottles after use.

And they were using up their water supply every time they cleaned and filled them.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it….

With the bottles made, Nino started organising breakfast in the kitchen while Alya headed for the common area. Older children were already up and about, the more independent ones who slept in former classrooms, now stuffed with bedding collected by volunteers. 

As soon as she entered the room, the kids ran to her. Some she knew pretty well now, and others whose names she couldn’t yet remember, all ready with their complaints and questions.

‘Is my mummy coming today?’

Alya swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, Adelie, I don’t know, but she might come tomorrow….’

‘I’m hungry!’

‘Me too. Breakfast is almost ready.’

‘Alya, Alya, guess what? I didn’t need to poo this time!’

‘That’s…that’s great.’

She led them all to the dining area, just as Nino emerged with the first plates of food, setting them on the tables. Biscuits, rice crackers, fruit, dry cereal. She helped him bring out more plates, until all the food was served. The children would complain. When they finished, they’d say they were still hungry. But there was only so much food volunteers could bring in every day. 

She nibbled on a rice cracker, her eyes on the kids, making sure no one choked, or fell off their bench, or hit one of the other children with a spoon, or grabbed a box of cereal and started throwing it everywhere like confetti, as had happened two days ago.

A boy at her table hopped up, cupping his hand around his crotch. ‘I need to pee.’

She let out a sigh and swallowed the last bit of her cracker. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

He followed her out of the building, to the enclosed stone courtyard at the back. A week ago, it had been a place of play. Now almost all the toys and play equipment had been shoved to one side. On the other side was a drain, hidden from view. The drain grill had been removed with great effort from Nino and Ivan, leaving an open hole so deep you couldn’t see the bottom, which was a relief. A toilet seat had been placed over it, and there was a table with toilet paper, water and soap. 

Outside of the daycare, on some of the streets, similar systems had been constructed with sewer manholes. Felix had even organised for privacy structures to be built. It was disgusting. But with the toilets unusable, it was the best they could do.

Temporary, she told herself as she looked away, waiting for the boy to finish his business. It’s only temporary. All of this will be over soon. Any day now. 

But not for the first time, doubt wormed its way in. 

What if people like Adrien and Marinette and Luka were right? What if this really did go on for longer?

She shuddered, shoving the thought away, far back into the recesses of her mind, then led the boy back inside the building.

The hours passed, and then it was lunchtime. They couldn’t make sandwiches anymore. The bread had gone stale – though she’d heard rumours that Kim of all people was experimenting with making his own. Until he succeeded, it was rice and tomato sauce and beef stock. Lots of stock. Still, it was only enough for a small bowl each.

The sheer amount of food they were going through each day was staggering. There were almost a hundred mouths to feed…and the searchers kept finding more. Each time Adrien or Marinette brought in another small child, an evil voice spoke in her head.

‘Enough is enough. Just stop. Stop looking.’

She let out a long breath.

Any day now. Any day now the adults will come. They have to.

Later, they took the older kids outside for fresh air. Not that the air was very fresh, as there was no wind. Yet another inexplicable thing.

The kids ran around between the building and Place des Vosges – on the street, because there were no cars. Also a sight she’d never get used to. 

Then it was back inside. Checking on the babies again. Changing nappies. Feeding them more milk, or baby puree.

Exhausted, she went into the common area, finding Nino standing with his brother.

Chris was stomping his foot, his voice raised. ‘I want to play video games!’

Nino bit his lip, like he was trying very hard not to curse. ‘There aren’t any video games.’

‘But she’s got one!’ Chris pointed across the room, past dozens of kids, at….

Manon. As usual, she was ignoring the others and staring down at the video game console in her hands.

Alya’s chest tightened. Maybe she should’ve been paying more attention to Manon today. She couldn’t look after herself like the other kids around her age. And Marinette had asked her to look after her.

But there was just so much else to deal with. She couldn’t be watching Manon 24/7. Something Marinette didn’t understand. 

Nino dragged his hand down his face. ‘Chris…it doesn’t have any charge . You know the screen stays black. She’s not actually playing, she's just staring at it!’

‘But she still –’ 

‘No, Chris, enough! If you’re not gonna help, just – just stay upstairs!’  

Alya had never heard Nino sound this frustrated. This angry . And judging by the stunned look on Chris’s face, he hadn’t either. With a huff, he turned and stomped away. 

Nino’s shoulders slumped, and Alya placed a hand on his back. 

He let out a shaky breath, not looking up. ‘I know I shouldn’t get angry at him, but….’

‘I know,’ she whispered. 

‘I guess it’s unfair to expect him to help. I mean, Jesus, he’s only seven. But when he just comes in like this…. It’s too much, Als. Not just him but… all of it.’

‘Y-yeah.’ She rubbed his back in small circles. ‘Maybe we should ask Felix for more help. I know he’s already helped so much, but…we still don’t have enough. Even…even just a few more volunteers….’

Nino gave a heavy nod, then let out a deep sigh. ‘You’re right. He’ll help us. I mean, look at those rules he made.’

Her hand stilled on his back.

He glanced at her. ‘Don’t tell me you feel uncomfortable with them, too.’

‘...not all of them. Just…some of them…I guess I don’t know what I feel.’

He pursed his lips. ‘Look. Like I said in the park, I don’t disagree that he’s a little… strange. And maybe he is a little too eager to be in charge. But so what? At least he’s getting things done. He’s organising things.’

That was all true.

‘And I get that Adrien and Marinette are out there doing a hard job, too, but…they just don’t understand what we’re dealing with here. If they spent one day volunteering here….’

That was true, too.

Alya frowned and dropped her hand, their friends’ words from yesterday swimming in her mind. 

‘He doesn’t want anyone other than him using powers.’

‘...he wanted to be the only one using them.’

She shivered. Could they have been right? About Felix having a power?

The earthquake had been strange. But as Nino had said…what about their world wasn’t strange and impossible now? 

As usual, Nino seemed to read her mind. ‘You’re thinking about that rule…aren’t you.’

She gave a tiny nod, then turned looking around the room, at all the children, until she spotted Josie – a familiar face amongst all the others blurring together. She was technically too old to be in the daycare, but as she had a younger sibling…that was one more set of hands they could use. One more child looked after a little better.

The girl was sitting in a corner of the room, making goofy smiles at little Denis, who was babbling something to her. She looked a little tired, but otherwise happy. Maybe she wouldn’t be too traumatised by what had happened. Maybe she wouldn’t have nightmares.

Nino sighed, lowering his voice further. ‘As long as we’re being honest here…I’m worried about that rule, too. I’m – worried about Adrien.’

Adrien.

If anyone found out….

She opened her mouth to reply, when a noise made her head jerk around. A boy crashed into her. He was maybe four years old, clutching a rabbit plushie by the torso, while another boy around the same age was tugging its legs, both their little faces scrunched up in anger.

‘Hey, hey!’ Alya crouched down in front of them. ‘Guys, no fight –’

‘Lo quiero, lo quiero, es mio!’ the boy who’d collided with her was yelling.

Alya’s heart dropped. Oh no. Spanish. One of the kids rescued from the tower, maybe, or found wandering around. 

‘I want it!’ the other boy shouted in French. He yanked hard, gaining possession of the rabbit, then ran off, weaving between other kids.

The Spanish boy burst into tears and dropped to the ground, wailing. ‘Quiero a mi mamá!’

Alya felt her heart cracking. Mama. A word understood in any language.

She exchanged a look with Nino. There wasn’t anything they could say to comfort the child. She didn’t even want to insult him by trying. So she wrapped her arms uselessly around the boy and held him, letting him cry.

Nino was right. If their friends spent one day in the daycare, they’d see. They had more immediate problems to worry about than powers.

. . .

By nightfall, Alya could barely feel her arms and legs. Her head throbbed with a deep headache that had been building all day, like it had almost every day for the past week. She’d lost count of how many pain meds she’d taken.

The kids had been fed and washed, then herded into their rooms for bed. Another two volunteers had joined them for the night shift. Marinette had collected August and Manon.

She’d made it through another day.

Upstairs, the apartment lights were off, which meant Nino had already gotten Ella, Etta and Chris fed, cleaned and changed. By now, they’d be asleep in the guest room and dining room.

Thank god. Thank god I don’t have to look after any more kids for the day.

As soon as she stepped into the living room, Nino pulled her into a hug, like he knew she needed it. Or maybe he needed it.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, the room spinning around her. A room in an apartment that wasn’t theirs. It belonged to a woman in her sixties, one of the workers at the daycare. Sylvie Curie. Judging by the photos sitting everywhere, she had a grandson, a little boy no older than two.

It wasn’t a face she recognised from downstairs. She didn’t want to think about where he might be now. If he was okay. 

‘The girls have been asking for you,’ Nino mumbled into her hair.

She went still in his arms.

No. No! She was supposed to be done for the day. Why couldn’t she just have five minutes with her boyfriend?

‘I’ll still be here when you get back, you know.’

‘I know, but….’ She released a deep sigh, forcing herself to pull away, out of his arms. ‘Okay. I’ll go see them.’

He gave her a small smile and pressed a kiss on her hot forehead, then stepped back. Like he knew she’d be tempted to hug him again.

She headed out to the dining room, her steps slow, her eyes half closed. When she pushed open the door, the girls shot up, like they’d been waiting for her.

‘Alya?’ they said in unison, their voices strained and hoarse, like they’d been crying. Like they were crying.

Guilt gripped her heart. These weren’t just some kids . These were her sisters . They were all going through this together. All longing for the same people.

‘Y-yeah, it’s – it’s me. I’m here.’ She dragged her feet across the room, sitting between them in the middle of the two mattresses, hugging her sisters to her sides as they cried. 

Maybe this was how Nora had felt, when she’d babysat her once upon a time.

Nora. She’d never missed her so much.

She leaned back against the wall, her eyelids shutting, then shooting open again in a fight to stay awake…over and over again. It was hard to say how much time passed, but at some point the tears seemed to have slowed, the sounds quieting.

Etta looked up at her and sniffed. ‘I want a story.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ella, her voice small. ‘A story.’

A story.

The last thing she felt like doing right now was telling a story. She was so tired her skin hurt. But her sisters were looking up at her with such watery, hopeful eyes….

‘Okay,’ she whispered, and she pressed her eyes closed, trying to think past the fog of exhaustion in her mind. To fish out a story from the many her parents had told them over the years. ‘Okay. Once upon a time, there lived a spider called Anansi.’

‘Anansi!’ Ella said, loud enough to make her jump. ‘Anansi the spider!’

‘Yeah. The very greedy spider who didn’t like sharing any of his things. One day, he collected some delicious yams from his garden and cooked them up. The smell was so yummy it made him even hungrier….’ Just thinking about it was making her stomach groan with longing.

Eyes still closed, she rattled out the story in a bland voice, without any of the energy she would’ve put into it if she’d had some rest. The twins didn’t seem to mind, though, interjecting with excitement. They knew the story well, adding the details where she tried to abridge it.

On and on it went. The turtle knocking on Anansi’s door, asking to stay for lunch. The greedy spider forced to oblige. His schemes to keep the turtle from sharing his meal. Making him wash his hands in the river…then wash them again….

Alya cupped her forehead as a wave of dizziness hit her. ‘So, the turtle went back to the river to wash his hands again...this time, careful to walk only on the grass, to keep his hands very clean. Then he stepped through the door to –’

‘Anansi!’

‘The door to Anansi's house, yeah, and Anansi had –’

‘Anansi’s here! Anansi’s here!’

...what?

Alya forced her eyes to open – then sucked in a breath. Right there, only a few feet away from the end of the mattresses, stood a giant black spider, maybe a metre-and-a-half tall, with long hairy legs and the face of a man. He stood upright on four legs, the other four stretched out to the sides like arms.

Anansi.

Just like she’d always imagined him as a child.

It wasn’t – it wasn’t possible. It –

She rubbed her eyes, her blood cold and her head pulsing. She just – she had a headache. She was exhausted. That’s all this was. She was just –

But – but no, it was still – oh god, it was still there.

She pulled away from the girls, scrambling up as the mattress dipped and the room tilted around her. She shielded the twins with her body as she tried to focus, tried to stare .

It was still there. It was still there.

Anansi took a step forward, and the strangled scream tore from her throat. ‘NINO!’

The spider vanished.

A split second later, Nino burst through the door, his eyes frantic. ‘What! What is it? Are you okay?’

She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t breathe. She took a step back, almost tripping, falling on the unsteady mattress. Ella and Etta’s eyes were wide, staring at the space where Anansi had been. They’d...they’d seen him, too. She hadn’t – she hadn’t hallucinated it. Or –

‘...Alya?’ Nino took a step towards them, his eyes darting between the twins, then back at her. The way he was looking at her…there was a message there. He was trying to tell her something.

She was – she was scaring them. And she was the older sister. She needed to be strong for them.

But the spider –

Taking a deep breath, she turned around, crouching in front of them. ‘It’s…it’s time for you to sleep.’ 

‘B-but you haven’t finished the story,’ Etta said.

Alya shook her head. ‘You’re both very tired. We all are. I mean – seeing things, right?’ She let out an awkward laugh. ‘I can finish the story tomorrow night, okay?’ 

‘No!’ Ella said. ‘Tomorrow morning! ’

‘Okay…tomorrow morning….’ Somehow. Maybe while she changed nappies. ‘But only if you close your eyes and go to bed now. Otherwise – no story.’

They shared a look…then slid under their blankets.

Thank god.

If that hadn’t worked, she didn’t know what she would’ve done.

When they’d closed their eyes, she stepped over them, crossing the room, passing Nino and walking on, out of the room, until she was in the living room. Nino followed her.

They hadn’t been able to bring themselves to sleep on Sylvie Curie's bed, in the master bedroom. Instead, they’d dragged the mattress out onto the floor in the living room, using sheets they’d brought from their own homes. She sat down on the mattress and stared across the room.

Nino sat beside her. ‘Alya…what happened? You looked like you’ve seen a ghost. You – you’re shaking.’

Slowly, she looked down at her body. She was shaking. And her palms were – were tingling . It was almost like an itch, or – or a burn. Warm.

She wrapped her arms around herself, the image of Anansi clear in her mind.

He’d been there.

Because I made him.

Somehow, she knew. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had created him.

And she’d made him disappear, too.

Oh god, this wasn’t just Adrien, or Josie, or Laurent, or any of the others she’d heard about. This was…this was….

‘I have a power,’ she choked out.

Nino’s eyes flew wide. ‘What?’

‘I… I have a power.’ Saying it again didn’t make it feel any more real. ‘I just – I just made Anansi appear.’

‘ ...Anansi? That character from that story? ’

‘Yes! He was – he was there, Nino, in the room with us, right in front of us!’

He blinked at her…then rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Alya…it’s been a long day. We’re both so tired and –’

‘No, Nino, I didn’t hallucinate it. The twins saw him too. Then – then as soon as I called your name, he – it vanished.’

She stared at him, gripping his arm, her eyes urgent. He had to believe her. If he didn’t, then….

I know what I saw. 

I know what I did. 

Nino stared back at her, not breaking eye contact. ‘You…you made…a fictional character…come to life. ’

‘Y-yes,’ she choked out. ‘I know how it sounds, but…it was me. I did it. I can – I can feel it.’

She releases his arm and stared down at her hands. Hands that looked normal. Hands that still tingled.

Oh god, oh god. What was happening to them all? What was happening to her? 

Nino gave a slow nod. ‘Okay…I…I believe you.’

She turned back to him. ‘You do?’

‘...of course I do. You’re not a liar. And Adrien – Adrien can burn things. ’ He let out a strangled sort of laugh. ‘But Alya, if this…if this is….’

They both fell silent, no doubt thinking the same thing. 

Rule number eight...people will not perform magic tricks or any other action that causes fear or worry. 

Magic tricks.

I performed a magic trick.

But she hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t wanted to. She hadn’t even realised she could. 

What else can I do that I don’t know about? 

What else can all of us do? 

She curled her hands into fists, her shoulders drawing inwards, a sob escaping her.

Then Nino’s arms were around her, pulling her to his chest. As he pressed her close, she knew. He was trying to protect her. 

But protect her from what?

How could he protect her from herself?

Chapter Text

Having spent the morning searching yet more cars and apartments for stranded children, Adrien was starving. He’d heard Marinette’s stomach make some telltale sounds, too.

The watch he’d taken to wearing said it was only a little past 11 – but what did it matter? After so many years of having his days scheduled to the second, he could eat lunch at 11 if he felt like it.

Besides…they were finding fewer and fewer people. Each day that passed meant the chances of recovering anyone alive dropped further. Soon, their job would be pointless. Then what would Felix have them do?

They rounded a corner, heading towards the park. There was really only one place to go – Kim’s Cafe. Adrien held the door open for Marinette to go in first, then followed behind. They weren’t the only ones who’d decided 11 am was lunchtime. People sat at nearly every table, filling the place with their easy chatter.

Behind the counter, Kim was fussing with some sort of tin, while Alix and Max were cooking at the back. Indefinable aromas wafted through the air. Seasoning of some kind. Maybe rosemary.

Adrien leaned over the counter, narrowing his eyes at the tin in Kim’s hands. ‘What’s that?’

Kim gritted his teeth without looking up. His arms were strained like he was lifting weights. ‘It’s – tea!’

Marinette’s brow lifted. ‘Tea?’

‘Yeah. You know that Dammann Frères shop down the road? I got a bunch of their tea and –’ He pulled at the thing again, his face scrunched up with determination. Then his hand went flying back, yanking off the lid, and he let out a whoop like he’d just done something incredible.

Alix rushed to his side, looking at the open tin. ‘You did it!’

‘Most commendable,’ Max said from his stove, and Alix joined him at the back again.

Kim gave a proud bow, then set down the tea tin and wiped his brow. ‘Phew! You need muscles of steel to open these things. Who the hell thought square lids were a good idea? Anyway…what can I get you two? Some tea, maybe?’

Adrien’s mouth quirked. ‘Sure. Why not? And we were thinking some early lunch.’

Kim nodded and handed him a sheet of paper. A handwritten menu. ‘There’s today’s special, too.’ He pointed at a whiteboard propped up on the side.

Marinette blinked at it. ‘What’s…The Felix? ’

‘It’s a soup made from the last of the fruit and veg Felix helped reserve for us before it all spoils.’

‘...like what?’

‘Ooh, let’s see, there’s….’ He started ticking items off on his fingers. ‘...potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, asparagus, green beans, bananas, apples, tomatoes….’

‘That…sounds alright, I guess.’ 

‘...plus UHT milk and noodles. For substance.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I take it back. It sounds as weird as the person it’s named for.’

Kim frowned. ‘You don’t like Felix?’

Something about the way he said this made Adrien shiver. ‘We don’t know Felix.’

Kim’s expression softened. ‘Well, I think he’s great. He’s really helped us out here. Got us so much more organised.’

‘Yeah, that’s…what everyone keeps saying.’

‘And…you think that’s a bad thing?’

‘N-no. No, of course not. I just….’ He bit his lip, unsure how to finish his thought.

‘It’s his rules,’ Marinette said.

Kim’s brow went up. ‘What about them?’

‘Nothing! Most of them are great. It’s fantastic that people are helping with the daycare and the – the food. It’s just…some of them are a little….’

She looked at Adrien, maybe hoping he could supply a suitable adjective. But something told him nothing they said would be right.

There was a sound. A squeak. Like a chair moving from under a table. A girl, maybe a couple years younger, had stood up. Someone he didn’t recognise.

She eyeballed Marinette, like she was part of their conversation. ‘Let me guess. You don’t like the one about magic tricks.’

Just like that, the chatter in the cafe ceased. Like they were on TV and someone had hit pause. Without turning, Adrien could feel every set of eyes on them. It was like being stared at by a mob of fans…but worse.

Behind the counter, Kim’s eyes had rounded. And at the stoves, Max and Alix had turned, watching with unblinking eyes.

Marinette turned her head slowly towards Adrien, meeting his eyes. A silent conversation passed between them.

Who the hell does this girl think she is?

How do we get out of this?

Then she refocused on the girl. ‘Being honest here…yes. I don’t like that rule.’

The girl huffed out a silent laugh. ‘So, you think people should be allowed to run around performing their little tricks without anyone keeping an eye on them?’

‘...I think we should be working together . Isn’t that the point of all the other rules? To help each other out? How can we do that if we’re dividing and – and informing on each other?’

The girl took a step forward, her hands in tight little fists. ‘How can we work together when some of us are dangerous? When some of us are –’

‘Okay!’ Kim cut in, his voice high and loud. His gaze darted between Adrien and Marinette. ‘So – did you want The Felix?’

They both gaped at him. So did the unnamed girl.

Marinette shook her head. ‘No, Kim. I don’t want The Felix.’ There was a clear undercurrent of what the fuck.

He gave a jerky nod and turned, heading for the kettle, to make their tea. Marinette drew closer to Adrien, her shoulder pressed against his while they perused the menu together – maybe to give the girl the hint to go away.

It worked. She grunted and sat back down at her table. With the drama over, the chatter in the cafe slowly resumed, and Kim returned with the tea. Marinette ordered for them. Fried greens and potato wedges with ketchup.

Adrien drummed his fingers on the counter while he watched Max stir the greens in a frying pan. ‘It’s so lucky you have a generator here.’

‘Indeed!’ Max called over his shoulder. 

‘Any luck figuring out how to get the power back on for us all?’

‘Negative. I’ve thought of almost nothing else, since the Poof, but the solution continues to elude me.’ He switched off the stove and scooped the greens onto two plates. Alix added the potato wedges and ketchup, then carried their meals to the counter.

They said their thanks, then sat together at the only empty table. It was good to eat something warm and substantial, even if it wasn’t that exciting. The ketchup was sweet, too, and the tea soothing. They’d been cooking dinners on the portable stove most nights, but their lunches had consisted of whatever they could find in shops they passed – packets of chips, fruit, crackers.

There was a smear of ketchup on Marinette’s chin. Without thinking, Adrien reached across the table and wiped it for her. Only when he’d done it did it hit him that this…this was the kind of thing couples did. Not…just friends.

But she didn’t push him away. She didn’t tense. She just… smiled. Like this was okay. Like he was allowed to do this.

What…what did that –

The door opened, stalling that train of thought. The cafe hushed again, heads turning like flowers towards the sun as Kagami walked in.

She weaved between the tables as if she didn’t even see them, stopping at the counter, where she stared at the specials board. ‘The Felix, huh?’ She delivered this in her usual monotone, giving nothing away.

Kim nodded. ‘…did you want it?’

‘No, thanks. I see enough of him at home.’

‘Oh….’ Kim scratched his head like he didn’t know what to do with this remark, then handed her the menu.

Kagami looked down at it, reading. Her posture was immaculate, without a single indication that it bothered her the way everyone was watching her. Then she lifted her head, giving her order in a dull voice.

Kim gave a nod of acknowledgment and joined Alix and Max at the back, while Kagami turned, leaning back against the counter and staring around the cafe. All heads looked down, conversation resuming. Like someone had pressed the play button again.

Adrien took a long sip of his tea. Some fruity concoction, with…. ‘Oh my god…is that passionfruit? ’

Marinette giggled, a sound as sweet as the tea.

He forced himself not to gulp it all in one go, then set down the half-finished cup with a shaky hand. Alix was handing Kagami her order, and it was inevitable what would happen next. Theirs was the only table with a free seat.

In his periphery, Kagami walked across the cafe, her steps slow. When she reached their table, she didn’t speak. She just…stood there. A presence hovering beside them.

They looked up.

Her gaze darted around the room, like she – like she was nervous . Like she expected them to turn her away, maybe. ‘May I sit with you?’

He exchanged a look with Marinette, recalling what Kagami had said to them when she’d caught them loitering outside after the first Council meeting. ‘I thought you said you were eager to rush off and do your jobs. I don’t think Felix would be too happy that you’re still hanging around.’

She’d seemed so tough, then, her words carrying an undercurrent of threat. But right now, she seemed small. Like the new kid looking for a place to sit in the cafeteria on the first day of school.

Marinette gave a slight shrug. ‘S-sure. Go ahead.’

‘Thank you.’ Kagami set down her plate, then pulled out the chair and sat down, smoothing out her skirt. Not her uniform anymore, but just as formal. Like she planned to attend a business meeting after this.

She looked down, eating her meal in small, tentative bites. The tension was thicker than the slightly undercooked potato wedges.

Adrien cleared his throat. ‘So…where is “home” for you, anyway?’

She shrugged. ‘Your old home.’

Across the table, Marinette sucked in a breath.

Adrien’s jaw dropped. ‘...what?’

Kagami peered up at him. ‘You don’t mind, do you? Everyone says you moved in with your girlfriend here, so….’

His cheeks flamed. The instinct was there – to correct Kagami. To say, ‘Marinette’s not my girlfriend.’ But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

When he dared to look at Marinette, she’d gone pink, but…she wasn’t saying anything either. Again, what did that –

A sound made his breath catch – shouting, coming from outside – and his head jerked towards the door again. The cafe had gone silent once more, listening with him.

No, that wasn’t shouting. More like…cries of surprise.

Maybe fear.

He met Marinette’s eyes, reading all his own worries in her face. Was someone else being harassed for performing magic tricks? Or worse – being hurt for it?

Please, please don’t make us watch someone else die.

Kagami got to her feet. ‘We should see what’s going on.’

We?

When he only stared at her, she made an impatient noise. ‘Felix dubbed you in charge of emergencies.’

Right. Of course. But….

I don’t want to be a leader.

Judging by the way Marinette had paled, she didn’t want the role either. But the teacher-like looks Kagami was giving them now told them they didn’t have a choice. 

With a heavy sigh, they both stood, following Kagami outside. Behind them, everyone in the cafe rushed out too, joining the crowd already assembled on the street – including Alya and Nino, who must have been taking a break. 

They were just in time to see someone – a girl – pulling her foot out of an open manhole. Like she’d just…climbed out of the sewer.

When she was out, she gave herself a shake. Her hair was blond but dirty. Scraggly like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in days. Her clothes were torn and darkened with stains. Her feet were bare. But when she lifted her head, facing them all, there was no mistaking who it was.

There were loud gasps, and some cries of shock.

Adrien’s stomach dropped. How…how was that….

‘Chloe?’ Sabrina was shoving her way to the front, rushing forwards. She halted a few metres away, trembling. ‘Oh my god, Chloe. CHLOE!’

Chloe was looking over the crowd with a pleased smile. Like she was thinking, Yes, that’s right, I deserve an audience. When her gaze landed on Sabrina, she stared at her like she’d forgotten she existed until now. ‘Are you just going to stand there shouting my name?’

Sabrina shrank back. ‘I…I’m sorry, I…. Chloe, all the adults are gone! ’

‘Duh , you think I haven’t noticed?’ Chloe shook her head. ‘I’ve been away all this time and that’s what you have to say to me? Why don’t you make yourself useful, for a change. Get me some food or something.’ She waved her hand, shooing Sabrina away. 

‘B-but – but Chloe …oh my god, Chloe, I was so worried! ’ Tears streamed down Sabrina’s cheeks.

Chloe’s brow lifted in interest, and she crossed her arms. ‘...really?’

‘Of course! I’ve been searching all over for you! ’

Chloe let out a derisive huff. ‘You can’t have tried that hard, or you would’ve found me.’

Sabrina’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish.

Marinette stepped forward, walking around Chloe in a slow circle. Examining her. ‘You look disgusting.’

‘Oh, right, and you look any better? Even after roaming the rat-infested sewers, I have better hair than you, baker girl.’ She gave a flip of her tangled hair, as if to demonstrate.

Marinette froze in place.

Adrien took a jerky step forward, joining her. ‘...rat-infested sewers?’

Chloe looked at him like she had no idea why this was so strange. ‘That’s what I said, isn’t it? My driver disappeared and my car crashed. I walked through the sewers to get here.’

Now, Kagami had come closer, giving her own inspection. ‘You were…in a car crash? ’

‘Is there an echo here? Yes , I was in a car crash.’

‘You look unscathed.’

‘I know. I healed myself.’

There were fresh gasps in the street.

Even Kagami looked surprised. ‘...you did what?’

‘I healed myself . What, are you deaf or something? Who are you, anyway? And why are you dressed like you’re about to attend one of Daddy’s political meetings?’

Kagami stared at her, again giving no indication of what she was thinking.

Everyone else had gone still, that tension back in the air. Chloe – Chloe had a power. And she was just – just talking about it. In the open.

She didn’t know about the rules.

Oblivious, she stared at her fingernails, a look of dismay on her face. They were probably as mangled as her hair and clothes. ‘Huh. I must have damaged them when I touched the…the wall.’ Her voice had taken on a funny quality. Like she didn’t realise she was speaking out loud.

Adrien tensed, sharing a look with Marinette. ‘The…the wall?’

Chloe looked up – then resumed her familiar aura of superiority. ‘You’re right. It’s not just a wall, is it. It’s more like a –’

‘Dome.’

One syllable, spoken by three people, without thinking. Adrien. Marinette. Chloe.

Adrien’s blood ran cold. Marinette had gone pale. Maybe he had, too.

Why had he said that? It was like the word had been pulled out of his mind.

After all this time – after keeping the secret – they’d just blurted it out in front of everyone. He could feel the eyes on his back.

Somehow, Alya and Nino were at their sides, a circle forming while the others watched…listening.

Alya’s gaze was darting between them, searching all their faces. ‘What do you mean… dome? ’

Adrien’s mouth ran dry. Beside him, Marinette was shaking.

Chloe gave Alya a look like she thought she was being stupid. ‘You did geometry, didn’t you? It’s like one of those snow globes.’

Alya’s expression hardened. ‘I know what a dome is, Chloe. But what the hell do you mean about it being a dome, not a wall? What – what do you even mean by wall? ’

‘Ugh, I don't know. I barely saw it. Ask them.’ She nodded at Adrien and Marinette. 

All heads swung their way. Adrien reached behind, lifting his jacket a little and fanning his skin beneath. He was sweating, despite the chill in the air.

Alya took a step towards them. ‘Marinette….’

Beside him, Marinette swallowed thickly. ‘When we went to the Eiffel Tower, we noticed this…wall. It had cut straight through the tower, like – like it was dividing it in half. Not just the tower but the – the trees…nearby buildings…the river…everything.’ 

Nino stumbled to Alya’s side. ‘What did it look like?’ His voice was hoarse and strained.

Marinette’s eyes filled, maybe with memory. ‘It – it was opaque. Impossible to see through…except higher up, where it sort of…blended into the sky. Like it was invisible. And when we touched it…it burned …. ’

Their friends’ eyes widened. It seemed like the whole park had gone silent, hanging on Marinette’s every word. Even Chloe was studying her with vague interest, now, while Kagami’s expressions remained unreadable.

Marinette wrapped her arms around herself as if for protection, her shoulders shrinking inward.

Nino turned to Adrien. ‘And…and the dome? ’

Adrien glanced at Marinette, but she was staring at the ground now. Perhaps she could see it all there, looking back at her. ‘When we went up the tower, we could see…it wasn’t a wall. It stretched all the way around the city, and all the way up, in a – in a big circle.’

His friend’s mouth had fallen open. ‘So – so let me get this straight. You saw this when you went to the tower?’

They nodded.

‘A week ago? And you didn't tell us?’

Both of them flinched. Adrien opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Nino shook his head, taking a step back. ‘I can’t believe this. We’re supposed to be friends, man. We trust each other. Why didn’t you tell us about this?’ 

It was a good question. A great question. A question he didn’t want to answer.

‘We wanted to tell you,’ Marinette said. ‘We just…we couldn't think of any way to say it. There was so much else going on and – and you kept saying all this would be over in a couple days anyway. Why give you more to worry about, if it’s all going to go back to normal anyway…you know? And I mean…it doesn’t really change things….’

‘Are you serious?’ Nino cried. ‘It changes everything! You’re telling us we’re completely closed off! That – that there’s a fucking dome around the entire city!’ 

Marinette flinched again. ‘But what are we supposed to do about it?’

‘We could try to break it open ,’ Alya said. There were murmurs in the background, like others agreed.

Adrien shook his head. ‘You don’t understand, Alya. It cut through the Eiffel Tower. You can’t touch it. I only tried for a second, and it burned.’

She stared at him, hot denial in her eyes. She didn’t want to believe. 

Nino was breathing hard, like he had more he wanted to say but some sensible part of his brain was warning him not to. It hurt, seeing him like that. They’d never fought. Not for real. 

Then Nino turned to Kagami, who was watching them like a curious programme on TV. Perhaps a documentary about animal behaviour. ‘Shouldn’t you tell Felix about all this stuff?’

She blinked at him…then sighed, releasing her arms. ‘Yes, I suppose he’ll want to know.’ Her voice was dull, like she was reciting lines. She was telling Nino what he wanted to hear.

Adrien’s mouth parted, understanding hitting him. 

Felix already knows. And so does Kagami. 

She turned to him, giving no indication that she knew he’d seen through her. ‘Adrien – Marinette – I trust you can deal with this while I’m gone?’

Deal with this when she was….

Wait. She was leaving them in charge? Did it need someone to be in charge? What did she expect them to do?

‘Wonderful.’ She gave them a nod, as if they’d agreed, then turned, disappearing through the crowd.

Heading back to his old home, maybe.

Chloe groaned. ‘Honestly, what does a girl have to do to get some food around here?’

Sabrina jumped, almost to attention. ‘I can feed you! Come with me!’ Then she turned, shoving her way through the crowd with more force than Adrien had ever seen her display before, leading Chloe towards Kim’s Cafe.

Chapter Text

Adrien stared after Chloe, his heart pounding as Sabrina barked at the other kids to move aside so they could get through – so they could go to Kim’s Cafe and get Chloe something to eat.

Chloe, who’d been his first friend as a child.

Chloe, whom he’d spoken to less and less since attending school with her and seeing her mean streak.

Chloe, who’d been in a car crash, yet turned up with not a scratch on her – who’d healed herself.

She – oh god, she had powers.

And she’d just told them all…completely unaware that she was breaking a rule.

His heart pulsed for another reason, too – guilt. Sabrina had asked them to search for Chloe so many times …and he’d shoved the matter aside. There was too much else to deal with. Too many other people to look for. Kids to save.

Kids to bury.

But, healed or not, she was a mess. She’d been through hell. At least he had friends to help him get through the Poof. He had Marinette. But Chloe had no one until she found them. She’d gone through it all alone. She’d found out about the dome on her own.

And now, it wasn’t their secret anymore. The news had got out and it would spread before they knew it. Probably by nightfall, everyone would know the truth.

Warmth covered his hand – Marinette holding it, maybe seeking his support as much as giving him hers. Her muscles had tensed, and her eyes were shiny as her gaze flickered between Alya and Nino. Like she was on the verge of tears.  

Because we kept the truth from them. We knew about the dome and we didn’t tell them – our best friends.

Alya’s face looked strained, like she was holding back emotion. ‘This is why the adults haven’t come back yet. Because we’re closed off. Our parents – they can’t – we can’t –’ Her voice cracked, and Nino was instantly at her side, his arm around her shoulder. He shot Adrien a glare – but it wasn’t one of anger. It was one of hurt.

Adrien clenched Marinette’s hand. He hadn’t felt this helpless since his mother had disappeared. ‘I’m sorry. We didn’t – we didn’t mean to keep this from you. Like Marinette said, there was just so much going on, and….’

But that wasn’t really an excuse. He knew that. Marinette knew that. When things were this important, you found the time – a moment – to tell your friends.

Or to search for them.

Again, his gaze darted towards the cafe where Chloe had gone inside, guilt cold around his heart. Then it travelled, scanning the faces of the crowd that remained on the street. The other kids had huddled in groups, talking. There were too many voices to pick out proper conversations, but he could work out enough from the speed of the words and the pale faces.

They were afraid.

Alya and Nino turned away, no longer waiting for a better explanation.

‘W-wait –’ Marinette said. ‘Where are you going?’

Alya glanced in her direction, avoiding her eyes. ‘The daycare. Where else?’

‘I…I don’t know….’

‘You should probably go look after Chloe,’ said Nino, his tone bitter. ‘You’re in charge here, after all.’ He all but spat out the words, his eyes on Adrien.

Adrien shivered under his friend’s glare. ‘I don’t want to be in charge, you know.’

Nino only shook his head. ‘Whatever, dude.’ Then he and Alya walked off. 

Adrien watched them leave, his legs itching to run after them but a voice in his head warning him this wasn’t the time. Their friends needed space…maybe a lot of space. How the hell had things spun so out of control?

Don’t be stupid. They were always out of control, and you know it.

Marinette groaned. ‘What are we going to do, Adrien? What are we going to do?’ She wasn’t just asking about Alya. She was asking about everything.

Adrien cast a look over the sea of frightened kids again.

I trust you can deal with this, Kagami had said, before she’d gone to the mansion. To Adrien’s former home …or at least, the place where he used to live. Now their place of residence.

Kagami and Felix…. Kagami and Felix ….

A wave of dizziness hit him. He felt a little like Baby Bear in that old fairytale, discovering Goldilocks in his bed. Were they staying in his room? Had they gone through his things? Was Felix wearing his clothes?

If only the dome had bisected the mansion instead of the Eiffel Tower. 

He turned back to Marinette. ‘Let's just…check on Chloe, and then…take it from there.’

She pursed her lips, her eyes locked on his. She looked as tired as he felt. ‘Okay.’

As they started through the crowd, he tried not to think too hard about the way people parted to make room for them – or how their conversations quietened. Instead, he focused on the feel of Marinette’s hand holding his, and their mission of the moment.

Speaking to Chloe.

They stopped outside Kim’s Cafe, hesitating at the door and exchanging a look – a look that reassured him she wanted to do this about as much as he did. Then she pushed the door open and they went in together.

At the counter, Chloe was staring at the specials board, ignoring the way everyone in the establishment was staring at her. Even ignoring Sabrina, who hung at her side like a lapdog. She didn’t seem to have noticed his and Marinette’s arrival. ‘What the fuck is The Felix? ’

Behind the counter, Kim flinched. ‘I-it’s a soup.’

‘Yuck. Then again….’ She glanced down at the handwritten menu lying on the counter. ‘Ugh. Okay. Tell me about your soup.’

‘R-right, well…it’s in honour of Felix, who’s been getting us all organised. He wrote these rules, see, and got us all this –’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ She waved it off, her tone bored. ‘But what’s in it?’

Kim rattled off the ingredients.

Her brow went up. ‘Oh my god. It sounds disgusting! And I was starting to fantasise about eating the rats down there. Not that they would’ve let me….’ Her voice petered out, and she looked to the side, as if seeing something that wasn’t there.

Again, guilt twisted Adrien’s stomach. They should’ve looked for Chloe.

They should’ve done a lot of things.

Chloe selected something from the menu – a salad and potato wedges – then drummed her fingers on the counter while she waited for Max to make it at the back. Everyone else in the cafe was just… standing there…watching her every move, like she was the latest film.

When Max handed over her order, she took it to a table and sat down. Sabrina hovered beside her like a fly.

Chloe swatted her away like one, too. ‘God, Sabrina. Either sit down or leave me alone.’

Sabrina’s eyes watered like she didn’t know how to make such a decision.

Marinette gave Adrien a quick glance, like an apology, then released his hand and walked over to the table, taking a seat opposite Chloe. He followed, sitting down beside Marinette. 

‘Chloe….’ Marinette began. 

‘Baker girl….’ Chloe smirked like she’d just said something funny. Her eyes flickered to Adrien, but she didn't greet him. 

Marinette drew in a deep breath, as if gathering strength. ‘About what you said out there…about how you…you dealt with your injuries….’

Chloe eyeballed her over a potato wedge. ‘You mean when I healed myself?’

Again, the room seemed to be holding its breath. All eyes were on them. 

Marinette gave a jerky nod. ‘Y-yeah. That.’

‘...what about it?’

‘Well…it’s just...do you think you could heal… other people?’

‘Ew. Why would I want to do that? ’

Marinette threw Adrien a look. A plea for help.

He sighed. ‘So everyone thinks you’re great, Chlo.’

Chloe frowned. ‘Everyone already thinks I’m great. That’s why they’re all staring at me.’ She waved her fork at her audience.

That definitely wasn’t why they were staring, but…. ‘So they think you’re even greater.’

She narrowed her eyes at him…then shook her head. ‘Nah.’

Marinette reached over the table, grabbing her hand. ‘Chloe, please. If you just saw the boy….’

Chloe stared down at her hand, as if she couldn't quite believe Marinette had the audacity to touch her. Her mouth parted, an insult no doubt lingering on her tongue. ‘What boy? ’

‘Not someone you know. Just…a kid.’

‘And why, pray tell, should I care about some kid? ’

‘Because he was shot, Chloe.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Shot?’

Marinette gave a slow nod. When Chloe turned to Adrien for confirmation, he nodded, too.

Chloe swallowed. She looked like she had a hundred questions – and maybe a few what the fucks. But all she did was yank her hand back, wiping it on a tissue lying on the table. ‘Okay, fine. I’ll look …but I’m not promising anything.’

Marinette let out a breath. ‘Thank you, Chloe.’

Chloe blinked, like she was stunned by the sincerity…then looked down at her food, shoving a mouthful of potato into her mouth. Maybe to avoid further conversation. Her eyes had glazed over, like they kept doing. Again, she seemed to be seeing something they couldn’t.

Sabrina continued to hover at her side, her hands clasped at her chest and her eyes brimming. She didn’t say a word…but she saw it. She saw there was something wrong with her friend. She just didn’t know what to do about it.

For perhaps the first time since Adrien had known Sabrina, he could relate to her.

Chloe seemed to be eating as slowly as possible. Like she wanted to prolong what was coming. And who could blame her?

Adrien tried to put himself in her position. Getting in that accident…maybe being close to death…discovering she had powers…. And now they were asking her to heal a dying child. What if she couldn’t do it?

What if she could?

When she’d finished her meal, she sat back in her chair, staring at the table with those same hazy eyes. As if some memory was playing out in the polished wood surface.

Then she sighed and got to her feet. ‘Okay, let’s go see this boy.’

Marinette let out a breath of what might have been relief. ‘Thank you, Chloe.’

Chloe waved off her gratitude and started out of the cafe as if she were the one leading this mission. Adrien exchanged a look with Marinette, then hurried after Chloe, with Sabrina hard on their heels.

Outside, Chloe squinted in the sunlight, like her eyes weren’t used to its brightness. ‘So…how did this boy get shot?’ The question almost sounded like a demand, but it carried a tremor.

Adrien felt a tingle of energy in his hands, and he stuffed them into his coat pockets. ‘Someone didn’t like that he had powers.’

Chloe sucked in a breath. ‘You mean like….’

He nodded.

Her mouth hung open. Then she slammed it shut, looking forward, not saying another word as they turned at the end of the street and headed out of the square.

They walked to the Unicorn Centre in silence, sometimes glancing at the scenery. At the cars that had long since stopped smoking, now blackened husks. At the smashed glass no one had bothered to clean up. At dark, empty shop after dark, empty shop.

Chloe shuddered, and questions raced through Adrien’s mind. Where had she been when the Poof happened? What part of the city? Had she screamed? Had she cried?

When they hit the pharmacy, Marinette pushed open the door, letting them in. Chloe arched an eyebrow, an unspoken question on her face.

‘This is our hospital,’ Marinette said. ‘We call it the Unicorn Centre.’

‘The Unicorn Centre? That sounds like something –’

‘Chloe!’ Rose burst out from the back of the pharmacy, her face white with surprise. ‘Oh my god, you’re okay! I mean…you are okay, aren’t you? Unless – oh no! That’s why you’re here, isn’t it! Something happened to you!’ She sounded on the verge of tears, her eyes red and tired.

Chloe huffed in irritation. ‘Nothing’s happened to me. I’m here to help your patient.’

‘You…you are? But he’s been –’

‘Shot. I know. Marinette here wants to see if my healing powers are strong enough to cure the kid.’

Rose’s mouth parted, her eyes blinking too fast and too much. Like she was trying to work out if she was dreaming. ‘...healing…powers?’

Chloe crossed her arms. ‘I swear, if one more person repeats what I say….’

‘No, no! I’m…I’m sorry, I just….’ Rose’s bewildered gaze darted from Chloe to Sabrina…before moving on to Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette gave her a slow nod – a reassurance. Chloe isn’t talking crazy this time.

Rose swallowed, then turned back to Chloe. ‘He’s…he’s in the back. Follow me.’

Chloe stared at her, maybe at the instruction – the idea of following someone like Rose. Then she let her arms drop and crossed the room, stopping beside Rose, who was opening the back door. Chloe shot the others a look, as if to say, Well? You brought me here. You’d better not make me do this alone.

Adrien swallowed and started after her, with Marinette and Sabrina following. Then Rose led them all into the back room, where Juleka looked up at them from the floor, her eyes large with surprise.

The sight of Laurent beside her made Adrien’s breath catch. The last time he’d visited Laurent had been days ago. He’d still been crying, then, and sometimes shouting or even screaming. But he wasn’t doing any of that now. Silent, he’d curled up tight on the mat on the floor, his skin grey and his eyes glassy. Unseeing.

Somehow, this was so much worse. Like some essential spark had faded. Like he’d given up.

Chloe’s mouth had fallen open, her eyes hazy again, maybe with shock – or maybe seeing whatever she kept seeing every time she left them like that.

Adrien waved a hand in front of her face, but she didn’t so much as blink. Then he snapped his fingers, and she jumped.

‘God, what? ’ It sounded like her, but…there was an undercurrent of fear. She was trembling, too.

Marinette’s eyes turned downward in concern. ‘Do you…do you think you can do anything for him?’

‘...I have no idea. But…I’ll try.’ Her voice had softened, betraying the heart she pretended not to have. The person Adrien remembered from when they were kids. The person he’d spent so long hoping might still lie inside.

As if sensing that something important was taking place, Juleka got up, joining Rose and clasping her hand. Then everyone stepped back, giving Chloe space.

Shaking, she knelt on the floor next to Laurent, where Juleka had sat before. ‘This is so gross,’ she muttered. Yet her hand reached out towards him.

It hovered over his torso, staying there. Laurent didn’t react. Didn’t show any signs of registering her presence. He just kept…staring.

Maybe this was stupid. Healing powers? Who ever heard of such a thing?

Yet Adrien’s hands were tingling again. Burning. Reminding him of other things that shouldn’t be possible.

Chloe closed her eyes, her face soft and serene in a way that felt more impossible than magic powers. Then she moved her hands through the air above the boy. Not fast. More like she was…feeling the molecules that surrounded him. Like she could sense his shape without looking.

Adrien held his breath as he watched, and Marinette’s hand tightened around his. Juleka and Rose held each other’s hands, too, while Sabrina stood alone, to the side, her eyes watering and her hands clasped together as if in prayer.

And on the floor….

It was like a film running in reverse. The wound in the boy’s leg was – it was closing, the dried blood fading as the skin around the bandages turned pink. All the lost colour was returning to his skin, and the movements of his chest grew stronger, his lungs working harder.

That glassy look vanished from his eyes, replaced with a sudden alertness. Then he was sitting bolt upright, like he’d just woken from a nightmare. 

In a way…he had.

Chloe’s hands wavered, her posture unstable.

She’s going to fall over.

Adrien darted to the floor, catching her before she could tip sideways, propping her up. ‘Chloe? Chloe?’

He looked up, searching for assistance – for an explanation. The others were wide-eyed with astonishment. Sabrina stuffed her fist in her mouth, her eyes streaming.

And Laurent was just… sitting there, staring at them. Did he understand that he shouldn’t be sitting up like that? Did he know something incredible had happened?

Yes. Surely. That much was clear as he looked down at himself, slowly running his hands over his torso – over the bandages he no longer needed – with as much shock as Adrien felt. ‘How….’ 

Marinette knelt with them, gesturing at Chloe, who hung limp in Adrien’s arms. ‘This – this is Chloe Bourgeois. She…she healed you.’ Her voice was thick with awe.

Chloe lifted a hand, her eyelids heavy but – thank god – responsive. ‘H-hey.’

Laurent gaped at her. ‘What? ’

Her hand dropped.

Adrien gave her a gentle pat on the cheek. ‘Come on, Chloe, stay with us.’

Her eyes rolled with dizziness before they found him again. ‘...hungry….’

Sabrina shoved her way in. ‘But – but you just ate!’

Chloe shook her head, the action seeming to exhaust her. ‘So weak…would even eat…The Felix….’

Sabrina gasped like this was the most awful thing she’d ever heard.

Adrien shared a look with Marinette. ‘Let’s take her back to the cafe.’

Marinette nodded. ‘Chloe, can you walk?’

‘I…I think I….’ Just trying to get those words out was draining her more. She was in no shape for exercise.

Laurent was watching her with large eyes. ‘I’ll help her.’

Rose frowned. ‘Laurent, you – you just –’ She seemed unable to finish that sentence. Because what had he just…? How did you explain what Chloe had done for him?

Laurent got to his feet. ‘I feel fine. Better than fine – thanks to you two…and now thanks to her.’ He indicated Chloe. ‘Let me help her in return. Please.’

Despite phrasing it as a request, he didn’t wait for a reply. Already, he was reaching down and helping Chloe up. Although he was younger, and shorter, he slung an arm around her and held her upright.

Sabrina seemed to come back to life, putting an arm around Chloe’s other side. Laurent threw her a look of gratitude, and the two of them helped Chloe hobble out of the Unicorn Centre.

Adrien stared at the floor, where Laurent had lain just a few moments ago. Then he met Marinette’s eyes, reading the jumble of emotions in her face, before they stood up together.

Rose was nibbling at her nails. ‘This is bad. Very bad.’

‘That now we have someone who can actually treat the sick and wounded?’ Marinette said.

‘No! You know what I mean. She demonstrated a power.’

Juleka mumbled something, her expression hard to read with all that hair falling over half her face.

‘Exactly. She did it in public. She broke the rules! ’

Marinette made a noise of disgust. ‘So you think she should’ve just let Laurent die?’

‘Of course not! But it’s not about what I think, Marinette. It’s about everyone else. Do you know what will happen if people find out about this?’

‘Come on , Rose, who in their right mind would tell a healer to stop?’

Rose and Juleka both held their tongues, no one voicing the obvious point – that Felix didn’t seem to be in his right mind. And if he was, then Lila ….

And as Rose said, there were others out there…. If someone had shot Laurent for his magic, then….

Adrien touched Marinette’s arm, the contact making his nerves stand down – for now. ‘Maybe we should…go to the cafe and keep an eye on things. Like Kagami said.’

She looked up at him in surprise, maybe remembering that they were supposed to be in charge right now. They were supposed to deal with things like this. ‘O-okay.’ She turned back to Rose and Juleka. ‘I’m sorry if we…complicated things by coming here.’

Rose released a heavy sigh. ‘It’s okay. I understand. Chloe did a good thing today. Maybe the best she’s ever done. I just….’

Marinette nodded. ‘I know. But what else were we supposed to do?’

No one answered.

After saying their goodbyes, Adrien and Marinette exited the pharmacy, walking out into the unnatural sunlight and back down the street. He squinted, his thoughts as cloudy as that dome they’d kept secret from everyone.

They’d only made it maybe twenty metres when Marinette halted on the pavement, staring down the road. He opened his mouth to ask what was on her mind, when she turned to him. ‘You don’t…you don’t think Rose is right…do you?’

He frowned. ‘...what? About other people having a problem with what Chloe just did?’

‘...yeah.’

‘I…honestly don’t know. I mean…magic tricks are illegal …and Chloe just performed the biggest magic trick of all. She just damn near resurrected someone from the dead.’

‘I know but…. Surely, no one would want to put a stop to that. Who would want to stop a healer? ’

He held his tongue, recalling all his history lessons and semi-regular church sermons. Words like witch and prophet flitted through his mind.

Maybe she read the words in his eyes, because she looked away, then started walking again. Adrien hurried to keep in step with her, then took her hand as they headed back to the cafe.

Chapter Text

When Kagami returned to the Agreste mansion, a chill shocked through her – the same chill that took her whenever she was here. It wasn’t just the cold tiles or the wide open space. It was something she couldn’t put her finger on. Something you couldn’t touch. Instinct told her the place had probably felt empty even when the adults were still there.

She shut the door and started across the foyer, her footsteps echoing on the hard floor. Not just a shiver but a shudder racked her body as she approached the staircase. Even if they had to live here ten years, she wouldn’t get used to that tacky family portrait staring down at her from the wall.

Not for the first time, she paused at the bottom of the stairs, studying the painting. Of all the poses to choose…. Why couldn’t the artist at least have depicted the Agrestes smiling? Why would anyone pay to have misery immortalised? Because there was no doubt that Adrien, at least, was miserable in that image. He looked away from her with an expression of such deep resignation that her breath quickened and legs itched to get away.

She hugged herself, her inner climate dropping a few more degrees. The worst thing about this place was how similar it was to her own home – and Felix’s – both cut off from reach by the dome. Why, why, why had they decided to come somewhere like this? With all those houses at their disposal, they could’ve started over – like Adrien had.

Instead….

‘It’s fate,’ Felix had said when they’d first stumbled upon the place.

‘What kind of fate?’ she’d asked.

But he’d just winked without explanation and carried on exploring the building, declaring it the only house in Paris fit for a king. ‘It’s fortified,’ he’d said, gesturing at the security gates. Not to mention, there was a powerful generator, which meant it still had electricity – heat, not that it was helping the ice in her core right now.

And it had water. She alone got to have showers. All she had to do was stick with him.

Women had made worse sacrifices in history.

She cleared her throat, calling out as loud as she could. ‘Felix?’

After a breath, he replied. ‘In here.’ His voice was muffled and sounded like it was coming from what they’d deduced was Adrien’s father’s office.

She sighed and turned left, heading for the atelier, where she pushed the door open and stepped inside. There wasn’t much in the room, other than some mannequins lining the walls, and a tablet left on a vacant podium. The tablet had provided for some interesting reading before the battery had died. Even now, a certain email flashed through her mind.

‘...thank you for your latest update on F and the others. It only seems to confirm my worst suspicions, especially after the recent incident with A. After all this time, I fear that all those stories about the Grimoire and the box may have not been merely myth, after all.’

There had been no further information stored on the tablet – nothing that could provide further interpretation. Bearing in mind whose house this was, A was surely Adrien. It was tempting to interpret F as Felix. But that would be too coincidental.

Shaking her head, she looked towards the back of the room. Felix was standing at the podium. He didn’t appear to be looking at anything. He was just…staring, as if he could imagine loyal subjects sitting on the benches that lined a recessed section of the floor.

The usual confusion of emotions made her insides tumble like her stomach was a washing machine. When she was away from him, it was so easy to think only of his eccentricities – his plain arrogance – all the little things that made her want to scream. But when she saw him again….

He was so handsome that sometimes it hurt to look at him. It wasn’t just the perfect sweep of his golden hair, or the shape of his face or shoulders. It was the brilliance that gleamed in his green eyes – and the softness that lay in their depths. The heart he didn’t want anyone to know beat in that toned chest.

But he let her know. He seemed incapable of hiding his feelings for her, even if he hadn’t said the words.

God, please don’t let him ever say the words. There was no telling what she might say back.

She cleared her throat, forcing the usual sardonic expression she wore with him. ‘Hello, Your Excellency.’

His head jerked up, his eyes blinking, only just noticing her. But now that he had, she could tell – the rest of the room had dropped away, his attention only on her. No one else had ever looked at her like that – like she was the star of the show. Certainly not her mother. Though the woman was blind, she had a way of staring at others, giving them her whole attention. Yet she’d never once really looked in Kagami’s direction.

He frowned, her words maybe just taking shape in his mind. ‘Hey. Don’t make fun.’ He stepped down from the podium and walked across the room towards her. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’

She kept her poker face on. ‘What did you need me for?’

‘Your company. Isn’t that enough?’ He pushed open the door and gestured through it, as if to say, After you.

She exited the room, and he kept in step beside her, though there was no doubt that he was leading the way. He clasped his hands behind his back, heading for the kitchen.

Again, he held the door open for her, stepping in behind her.

She settled on one of the barstools at the island while he headed for the electric kettle. ‘So, something interesting happened out by the cafe.’

‘What, did Kim think up another recipe for using up the asparagus?’

‘Actually…yes. There’s a soup special called The Felix.’

He stilled, then twisted at the waist to look at her. ‘Huh. It’s something gorgeous, I assume.’

She bit back her first reaction and gave him an innocent smile. ‘Actually, it looked disgusting.’

He frowned. ‘Maybe there should be a new rule. No naming recipes after me unless they’re gorgeous.’ He winked, then turned around again, pulling cups out of the cupboard like he’d lived here all his life. Two cups, without asking.

She let out a quiet breath of relief. It was getting harder and harder to maintain the poker face. Whatever Felix felt for her now…a little voice in her head insisted that the second she returned his flirtations, he’d grow bored of her.

And for reasons she hadn’t yet worked out, the thought of him losing interest in her made her feel colder than the mansion.

She folded her arms on the counter. ‘Anyway, no. I didn’t mean Kim’s latest recipe. I mean something actually interesting happened.’

‘Uh-huh. Please do tell me what the people out there are up to now.’ His tone suggested he didn’t expect her story to be interesting at all, his focus on spooning loose leaf tea out of a tin and dropping it into strainers.

‘A girl climbed out of the sewers.’

‘...the sewers?’

‘Yep. Someone named Chloe Bourgeois.’

He glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘...what, like the daughter of Audrey and Andre Bourgeois? The one Sabrina kept whining about?’

‘The one and only.’

‘...okay. So she’s back. Who cares?’

‘ You care. It seems Chloe can magically heal herself – and possibly others.’

His brow shot up, the tea forgotten. ‘Wow. That is interesting.’

For some stupid reason, her heart swelled with pride.

He tapped his finger on the countertop. ‘Of course, we’ll have to get that under control. There’s no way she can just be healing everyone willy-nilly. We need her on our side. We’ll need to pay her a visit right away.’

‘Of course. But there’s more.’

‘...more than magical healing powers?’

‘Yep. It seems Chloe worked out that we’re all trapped in a dome, and she blurted it out to everyone in the street.’

Felix’s mouth dropped open. ‘She what?’

‘And it transpired that Adrien and Marinette knew about the dome, too.’

‘...and didn’t tell anyone?’

‘Nope.’

They held each other’s eyes, his swimming with ideas she could only begin to guess at.

Then the sound of the kettle clicking off broke the spell and he turned around, pouring the water into the cups. The smell of green tea and cherry blossoms drifted up with the steam – a Sakura-cha blend he’d got from Kim. A gift for her, apparently, to honour her Japanese heritage.

He sat across from her at the island and passed her cup across. Then he looked askance and lapsed into thought.

A memory came to mind, of when they first met, at the academy. He’d had the same look in his eyes, then. Like despite his young age, he’d already spent too much time in this world, surrounded by idiots. He’d learned not to expect much from anyone and was never surprised when people did things that might have otherwise been disappointing. He was as jaded as she was.

But mingling with that air of resignation was another look, like he was up to mischief. Something was cooking in that head of his.

Her tongue itched to ask what was on his mind – but she held it firmly in place, forcing down the question. If she showed too much eagerness, too much fascination with him, she’d disappoint him too. She’d seen it with other people. Like Lila.

She stared down at her tea. Maybe she needed a girl friend to discuss these things with. Maybe someone like Marinette….

But the idea was absurd. As if someone like Marinette could ever understand her.

Felix lifted his cup to his mouth, taking a small, slow sip of it, even though it was still hot. Every movement he made was elegant, like a study for a painting. If only she had some supplies, she might sketch him, but it seemed Gabriel Agreste worked purely on his tablet. Anyway, the last thing Felix needed was for her to announce that she wanted to stare at him for multiple hours and draw his portrait. He’d probably make jokes – ask if she intended to ogle the picture afterwards.

He set down the tea, his eyes hardening with decision. ‘This news about the dome will spread like wildfire.’

‘Yes. And it will raise more questions…like does this mean the rest of the world is still out there?’

Felix shuddered. ‘Imagine, our parents still out there…waiting for us.’

The idea made her flesh creep, and yet her shoulders relaxed at the reminder that in this place, at least, seated in this kitchen with Felix for company, she didn’t have to pretend. He understood her. Still, she shared her thoughts anyway. ‘All those other kids out there are so anxious to have their parents back. But I can’t think of anything worse.’

‘Nor I. And imagine having the teachers back!’

‘I’d rather not.’

They shared a grim smile, and in that moment she was certain she could read his mind. In his eyes, she could almost see the memories playing out – of all the times he’d been held back after class, or shouted at in some small room, for making one of his smart remarks during a lesson.

He drank down more of his tea, then set down the cup with purpose. ‘Now that people know they’re cut off from the rest of the world, they’ll want leadership more than ever. We need to make sure everyone sees us as their source of order and justice.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You see all of this as one big opportunity, don’t you.’

‘You know me, Kagami. I’m an optimist.’

‘Hm. And what does your optimism say about your upcoming birthday?’

His face fell, the colour draining from his cheeks. She’d heard him cry out in the night, sometimes – loud enough to carry all the way down the hall, to the room she’d chosen for her own. But he didn’t often show fear in waking hours.

And for good reason.

His hand clenched the cup handle so tight that his knuckles whitened. On the countertop, a cluster of utensils standing in a stainless-steel cup started trembling, then hopping up and down. Then the whole cup started jumping – as did the toaster behind him, the kettle, even the cabinet doors….

‘Felix.’

He jolted at his name, blinking at her like he’d forgotten where he was. Around the room, the objects settled with his nerves, and his mouth quirked into an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry….’

She sank back on her stool. ‘You were saying something about being a source of order?’

His face pinked with embarrassment. Then he sat up a little taller. ‘As I said, I’m sorry. It’s just…we have to figure out what happens when we turn fifteen.’

She shrugged and sipped more of her tea. ‘If the rest of the world really is still out there…maybe we just leave and join the others.’

‘Yes, but what if we don’t? And if everyone just leaves, then….’ He cut himself off, yet she could hear the rest of his thought in her head.

I go back to the life I used to lead.

His shoulders hunched and he seemed to shrink inward, somehow looking younger than he was – and it was easy to imagine the small, frightened child he became when he returned home to his father’s abuse.

Her heart lurched, and her hand itched to hold his, but she gripped the teacup instead.

Felix looked into his own cup, then pushed it aside with a sigh of disappointment. It must have been empty. ‘Has Lila finished making that list of everyone’s birthdays?’

Kagami shook her head. ‘She’s made good progress, but it’ll take a while to interview everyone in the dome.’

‘If only the schools still kept paper records. Are there any birthdays coming soon?’

‘Yes. I believe a girl named Aurore turns fifteen…tomorrow.’

He blinked in surprise, then nodded. ‘Good, good. I guess we’ll see what happens, then.’

‘Yes. I guess we will.’

They locked eyes again, and this time she could almost see the what ifs in his eyes – all the awful possibilities that lay in wait for that poor girl. The awful possibilities that may await them.

Then Felix stood so fast, he nearly knocked over his stool, and lifted his cup. ‘More tea?’

Marinette sat at a table in Kim’s Cafe, hands in her lap, staring at the crumb-covered plastic tablecloth. Beside her, Adrien also stared down at the table, his shoulders slumped. Not knowing what else to do after witnessing Chloe’s miraculous healing of Laurent, they’d returned to the cafe. They needed to keep an eye on things – on Chloe .

But shortly after they’d arrived, Chloe and Sabrina had left, saying something about a hot shower. Laurent had followed, unable to part with the girl who’d saved his life. That left Marinette and Adrien to face the buzzing crowd packed into the small cafe.

It hadn’t been more than an hour, but news of the dome had spread like wildfire beyond the few dozen kids who’d been present at Chloe’s dramatic reappearance. Everyone was talking about what she’d said – from the existence of the dome to her miraculous healing of herself, to something about rat-infested sewers.

I trust you can deal with this while I’m gone, Kagami had told them before she’d left.

You’re in charge here, after all, Nino had said.

And on Felix’s list of rules…. Adrien and Marinette are responsible for emergencies.

But this went beyond an emergency. This was a crisis. And there was nothing they could do except sit here as kids came up to the table, lobbing question after question at them. There were only so many answers they could give before they were repeating the same thing over and over.

Yes, the dome hurt to touch. Yes, it covered what was seemingly all of Paris. Yes, it was solid.

No, they didn’t know anything else.

Even while she spoke, Marinette’s mind couldn’t be further away, replaying the day’s events again and again, as if doing so would help them sink in. But it was like picking at a scab, or poking a bruise. It only made everything hurt more.

Alya...Nino....

They’d hurt their friends. It didn’t matter that they’d wanted to tell them. At the end of the day, they’d found out like this.

But the truth coming out…all it did was make things worse. Now people were panicking. People were scared, more than they’d already been since the adults had disappeared – since the powers started developing....

Sometimes secrets were necessary.

And even beyond that…telling people about the dome meant admitting they were trapped. They had no idea what to do.

She rubbed at her temples, trying to massage away the growing headache.

Chloe. Chloe could heal people.

She couldn’t stop seeing the small dark room at the back of the pharmacy – the Unicorn Centre, as Rose had dubbed it. Couldn’t stop seeing Laurent, with his ashy skin and glassy, unseeing eyes. Chloe waving her hands over his body. The wound on his leg closing. The colour returning to his skin. Laurent sitting up....

Adrien stood up, the movement sudden and noisy, snapping her out of her thoughts. ‘I need some fresh air.’

She glanced around, dazed. No one was looking at them or trying to talk. It seemed all questions had been exhausted.

Nodding, she stood too, and they made their way through the sea of kids crammed into the cafe, heading towards the exit. She could feel Kim’s gaze on the back of her neck, watching them as they left, and her eyes prickled. Kim, Max and Alix hadn’t spoken a word to them since they’d returned from the pharmacy. They too must have heard not just about the dome, but that she and Adrien had known about it all week and hadn’t told anyone.

More people we’ve hurt.

Outside, the park seemed even busier than usual, with groups of kids scattered about, and others wandering around, looking bored or confused. Marinette was reminded of that first day, when some instinct had pulled everyone towards the park, crowds gathering there because it…just felt like the place to go. The place to find out more and see what was going on.

And each day that had passed, crowds still gathered here. Only now, there was something... different about it, in a way that wasn’t obvious unless you stopped to look, like she did now.

It had been several days since she and Adrien had been in the park. Today, it hit her. Clothes were dirtier, and despite the chill, some kids weren’t wearing any shoes. There was stuff littered everywhere – food wrappers, random furniture that had been dragged out of homes, backpacks, books, toys, bicycles. There were also more dogs, sniffing around and plodding down the streets, looking as lost and confused as some of the kids.

There were cats, too. Two days earlier, they’d found one in a locked car. A poor, starved creature that hadn’t made it. There had to be so many pets trapped in apartments, hungry and scared. But they could barely find and help other kids, let alone animals.

Too much. It was all too much.

Adrien led the way over to one of the few free spaces in the park, under one of the trees up against the fence, and they sat down, neither of them saying a word.

Fresh air, Adrien had said. But even though they were outside, in a park...it wasn’t really fresh. The branches above them were still. The sky was the same endless, open blue. They were enclosed.

An awful thought stole through her.

If we’re trapped here long enough, will we eventually run out of breathable air?

Her throat tightened, and she forced the possibility from her mind, taking in a shaky breath and running her sweaty palms up and down her jeans.

Adrien glanced at her. He had his legs crossed, his arms folded over them. ‘Kagami already knew.’ He kept his voice quiet.

She blinked, turning to him. ‘She...she....’

He nodded. ‘Which means Felix did, too. They both knew...and neither of them said anything, either.’

She opened her mouth, about to ask why? ...then closed it. How could she and Adrien judge them, when they hadn’t said anything to their friends about the dome either?

Yet...they’d kept their silence because the truth would’ve scared people. It had scared people. Could Felix have had the same intentions? The same concerns? Was it possible that she’d misjudged him?

She hugged her knees. How had Felix and Kagami found out? Had they also stumbled upon the dome by accident? Touched it and felt its burn? The private school they belonged to.... Wasn’t it near the Eiffel Tower?

‘Look. Luka.’ Adrien nodded in the direction of the park gates, and she looked over, past the groups of kids. Her heart dropped like a stone, dragging the warmth out of her chest.

Luka was striding towards them, his hands clenched at his sides. Even from this distance, the anger was clear in the way he moved, his steps too fast and too wide and his posture rigid.

He knows. He knows about the dome. He knows we left him out.

She glanced at Adrien, and the two of them got to their feet, waiting for Luka to reach them. Adrien reached for her hand, gripping it tightly, and moved slightly in front of her as if to protect her. But she was just as much to blame for all this as he was, and she stepped beside him again.

Luka stopped a few feet away, his eyes boring into theirs. In the year Marinette had known him, she’d never seen him so upset. Somehow, this was worse than if he’d started yelling. Like when her parents shook their heads and said they weren’t angry, just disappointed.

Adrien put up his free hand in a small wave. ‘Hey....’

Luka continued to stare at them, like he couldn’t believe Adrien was just saying, Hey. Then he let out a heavy breath, his mouth turned down. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?’

Although he didn't raise his voice, and his tone remained flat, Marinette flinched. Never, ever had she heard Luka swear. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, and Adrien gripped her hand tighter still.

Luka shook his head. ‘We said we’d share things from now on. Did that mean nothing?’

Answers flew through Marinette’s head. Of course not. We meant it, Luka, we meant it. Just…this was too much. We were scared. We were….

But no excuse would fix this, and she looked down at the grass. Beside her, Adrien too remained silent.

Luka let out a noise of frustration, drawing her eyes again as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘Look. We need to investigate this properly. Send out teams like the rescue groups. Try to see if there’s any opening, or – or a way to make one. We need to figure out what we’re dealing with, here.’

Marinette’s mouth dropped open. See if there’s an opening…. Make one…. Luka spoke with such resolve that hope sparked in her chest. Was it possible? Could there really be a way out?

Adrien sighed. ‘You’re right, Luka. I don’t…I don’t really know what to say other than I’m sorry.’

‘We both are,’ Marinette whispered.

Luka turned to her, his eyes turned down with sadness, and some other emotion that was hard to define. Maybe it was her use of the plural again, like she and Adrien were a unit. Then he groaned and looked up at the unchanging sky, before looking at them again, his expression smoothed out once more. He’d decided to forgive them. ‘Tell me what’s going on with Chloe. People are going round saying she healed herself.’

Adrien bit his lip before answering. ‘Not just herself but Laurent. She has a power.’

Luka blinked at this new information. ‘She...healed Laurent?’

Marinette nodded. ‘He’s completely better. Where he got shot...there’s nothing there anymore. She waved her hands over him, and he just…stood up…walked out of the Unicorn Centre like nothing had happened.’ 

‘That’s...that’s incredible.’ Luka’s eyes clouded over, maybe remembering how Laurent had looked just that morning. Like someone who wouldn’t survive another night.

But now he would. With Chloe’s ability, nobody else was going to die.

‘But Felix....’ Luka frowned and crossed his arms.

Rose’s words returned to Marinette, from when they’d left the pharmacy. She broke the rules.

Marinette shivered. ‘He might not do anything. Surely no one will think healing is bad or – or scary.’

She must have sounded as unconvinced as she felt, because Adrien and Luka shared a dark look. ‘Lila might,’ Adrien said.

Again, she shivered, and a memory flashed through her – of Josie running away from those thugs of Lila’s who’d hit her over the head with a club. But she couldn’t imagine anyone going after Chloe. The image wouldn’t form. 

And even if they did...she’d only heal herself.

A humourless laugh threatened to bubble out, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

‘Let’s focus on what we can do,’ Luka said. ‘There’s still time today to scope out the dome. We should go gather some of the others.’

The others. He meant the two dozen kids who’d volunteered for rescue duty, who already spent their days wandering down streets, looking for any signs of life.

‘What about Felix?’ Marinette asked, hating how he was always at the back of her mind, how much they had to think and talk about him. ‘If he doesn’t approve....’

Luka shook his head. ‘I don’t care what he thinks. We need to do this.’ He spoke with finality, like he was the one in charge. And after the mess they’d already made of things, there was no arguing with him.

As if that ended the matter, he started walking, eager to get started. Marinette and Adrien followed. They were halfway across the park when they spotted Zoe weaving through the crowd, one of her arms wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. The girl’s head was lowered and she had her face in her hands, like – like she was crying. Heads turned to watch.

Zoe approached their trio, forcing them to stop. It had been days since Marinette had spoken to her. The last time had been a few days earlier, when they’d been out searching cars. Zoe was also in one of the rescue groups.

She looked between Marinette and Adrien, and gestured at the girl she held. ‘She wanted to see you. I’m sorry, I don’t – I don’t really know what she….’

The girl lifted her head, revealing herself. Aurore. Tears slid down her cheeks.

Marinette’s heart ached to see her so sad, and she took a step closer. ‘Aurore? What’s wrong?’

Perhaps a more appropriate question would’ve been what wasn’t wrong?

Aurore struggled to speak through hiccupping sobs. ‘It’s – it’s –’

Drawn to the crying, kids were gathering around them, listening in on the conversation as if this was an exciting episode on TV. Marinette tried to ignore them, focusing her attention on her friend. ‘What? What is it?’

‘It’s – it’s my b-birthday tomorrow.’

Marinette frowned. ‘Your...birthday?’ Oh...that’s right. She vaguely remembered Aurore having a November birthday. Last year, when they were in the same class, she’d brought bags of lollies for everyone to share.

But...why was she crying? Yeah, it would probably be the shittiest birthday ever, given the situation, but didn't they have enough to deal with? Now wasn't the time to be thinking about celebrations.

Aurore sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her hand. ‘I’m turning f-fifteen.’

‘You…. What?’ Again, why was this a big deal? Of course Aurore was turning fifteen. They all were this –

Wait.

Someone let out a gasp, getting it at the same time Marinette did. Maybe the same time they all did.

Fifteen.

A low murmuring had begun amongst the eavesdroppers.

Fifteen.

Marinette’s chest tightened. Like in some weird dream, she saw herself standing in a classroom, staring down at a piece of chalk in her hand. ‘Fifteen. All the students who disappeared were fifteen years old.’

The students....

The adults....

No...no....

She took a step back. ‘That – that doesn’t mean anything. Aurore, that – that doesn’t mean you –’

‘You don’t know that! No one knows! But I’ll tell you what I do know – Mireille was fifteen, and she disappeared right in front of me! And so did everyone else!’ As Aurore spoke, her voice rose in hysteria. And she wasn’t the only one. Panic was quickly rippling through the crowd of onlookers, voices rising.

The air around Marinette was thinning, her vision darkening. What if Aurore was onto something? What if she was going to disappear tomorrow?

Oh god, oh god....

She didn’t want to believe in the possibility. She couldn’t let herself believe in it. But the more she thought about it, the more awful, twisted sense it made – if anything at all in this wretched world of theirs could make sense.

Instinct made her turn, seeking Adrien at her side. He seemed to be staring at nothing, his face ashen. On his other side, Luka was watching him and biting his lip with worry.

‘A-Adrien?’ she whispered.

He didn’t react to his name. Didn’t so much as look at her. Her stomach dropped, her heart growing cold. She opened her mouth to ask him what was going on, when it hit her.

Adrien’s birthday.

Oh my god.

She’d had it circled on her calendar for months. She’d already made him seven gifts she had no idea how to give him, all waiting in the chest in her bedroom. How the hell had she forgotten?

Adrien’s birthday was in just twelve days.

And he was turning fifteen.

‘No.’ She shook her head, as if her denial might cancel out the facts. ‘No, no, it – no!’  

At this, Adrien seemed to snap out of his daze, hearing her above the noise of the hysterical crowd. He turned to her, meeting her eyes. ‘Marinette....’

‘No. No, you won’t – it can’t happen – it can’t!’  Without realising it, her eyes had filled with tears.

He released a soft breath, his eyes warm with sympathy, even though he was the one in trouble. He was the one who –

‘Marinette….’ He reached for her, gripping her shoulders. ‘We don’t – we don’t know what happens. We don’t know if anything even happens at all. And if it does – we’ll figure it out. Not just for me, but for Aurore, too. For all of us.’

 She let out a choked sob. It would be so easy to believe him, to tell her heart he was right. To believe the snatches of speech she caught from Luka, trying to comfort Aurore now. But what if they were both wrong? In twelve days, Adrien might –

His arms came around her, pulling her close, and she squeezed him back as tightly as she could, pressing her wet face into his neck, breathing him in. His arms were strong and solid and warm and alive around her and they were not going to disappear. They couldn’t disappear.

He’s going to be okay, he’s going to be okay, he’s going to be okay….

They all were. They’d been through the worst, and now they’d find some way to move forward. Luka had a plan. They were going to search every fucking inch of that dome until they found an opening. And if that failed, they’d blast the thing open and they’d all go back to their parents. They didn’t need to worry about anyone turning fifteen because they’d all be home soon. Nothing else bad was going to happen. Nothing else was going to –

The sound of shouting sliced through her thoughts, a voice louder than the others, cutting through the panicked din. Marinette tensed in Adrien’s arms, her heart racing for no good reason. Every nerve in her body seemed to be standing on end, instinct telling her she didn’t want to know what was happening.

But her ears betrayed her, listening more closely as the voice drew nearer, the distress clear even before she could make out the words.

Adrien pulled back a little, still holding Marinette’s hands. They shared a look, their eyes wide with alarm, and they turned towards the source of the sound.

Rose.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed her way through the crowd in the park, barrelling past them as if she didn’t see them. At last, she reached Adrien and Marinette, her eyes searching their faces.

Then she dropped to her knees, some weight pushing her down, her words bursting out through sobs and loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘She’s dead! She’s dead!’

Chapter Text

Without hesitation, Adrien and Marinette hurried after Rose, pushing through the curious crowds of kids in the park, exiting onto the street, and running up the road towards the pharmacy. His heart was racing, not just with exertion but with panic. Keeping pace beside him, Marinette had gone pale.

Rose’s hysterical words in the park kept repeating through his mind.

‘She’s dead! She’s dead!’

Josie – little Josie, the first child they’d rescued when they’d begun their searches. She – she was –

They hit the pharmacy, which they’d designated ‘the hospital’. The Unicorn Centre. Now, it seemed it doubled as a morgue. Bleak laughter bubbled in his throat, maybe to counteract the scream that was threatening to come out.

Rose shoved open the door, leading them through the aisles of supplies and to the back room, where she and Juleka had once tended to a dying Laurent. But he’d survived. And Josie….

He didn’t see her at first. Not with Rose standing in front, stock still like the shock was hitting her afresh. Then she made a small noise, almost a cry, and she rushed forward, tumbling to the floor beside Juleka. The two of them held each other tight.

Sitting across from them, Alya cradled the little girl in her lap, silent tears streaking her cheeks as she rocked her back and forth. Beside her was an ashen-faced Nino. 

Marinette gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. Alya seemed to be murmuring something, maybe a prayer, maybe a desperate wish to bring the child back. But Josie lay limp in her embrace, one of her arms hanging down and her head lolled to the side. 

Thank god – thank god – the eyes were closed.

Adrien took a step back, sickness in his stomach. No matter how many deaths they witnessed, it was impossible to get used to. And maybe that was a good thing. As long as he still felt like throwing up, he knew he was still sane.

Rose disentangled herself from Juleka, wiping her eyes with one of her hands, while Juleka held onto the other. As they looked at the dead child, they didn’t look just distraught. They looked bewildered. How had this become their responsibility? They weren’t really doctors. They couldn’t really do anything.

But Chloe could. If only they’d known. If only they’d got here sooner….

A montage of memories flashed through Adrien’s mind. Josie running up to them in the street and begging them to rescue her little brother. Using his unexplained magic to break one of the windows and enter her apartment. Bringing them both to the daycare, reassuring them that they’d be safe there. Josie tearing through the park, bleeding from that head injury caused by Lila’s thugs.

Even then, she’d been so alive, so vital. Now, she might have been sleeping, the way she’d once fallen asleep in Marinette’s arms in the park.

As if snapping out of a dream, Alya lifted her eyes, noticing Adrien and Marinette at last. ‘I – I thought she was napping. But then she – she didn’t wake up. So I took her here, but it was….’ Her voice broke, a sob trying to get out.

Nino laid a hand on her arm, his movements jerky and his voice just as strangled as hers. ‘It’s not your fault, babe.’

‘But – but I should’ve noticed something was…. I should’ve checked on her sooner. But I was….’

Busy looking after so many other kids – the way Ivan and Mylene and other ‘volunteers’ probably were, in Alya and Nino’s absence. There was no way any of them could’ve kept a constant eye on any one child. Whatever had happened to Josie, no one was to blame.

Except Lila and her thugs.

And Felix, for making his list of rules.

Adrien’s hands tightened into fists, the anger a relief. Anger felt better than grief. Better than acknowledging that another child had….

Marinette took an awkward step forward, then another, kneeling slowly in front of Josie and gingerly lifting her limp hand. She touched her wrist, checking her pulse even though it was obvious the girl was dead. There was an emptiness to her that made Adrien shiver. Something essential – her soul, or whatever the right word was for it – was gone. Now, all that remained in Alya’s arms was a husk, a vessel.

And the longer he looked, the emptier he felt, like just being in the presence of this body was sucking the energy out of the room – out of him.

Marinette went still. Too still. Adrien had spent enough time with her now to understand – to read her face, her body language. She was holding it all together, but any moment now she might break. Did anyone else see it? Did anyone else see how much energy she was expending not to fall apart in front of them this very instant?

He took a step forward, meaning to go to her, to comfort her, when she reached for Alya and touched her shoulder. Alya flinched like she’d been burned, then pulled away, shooting Marinette a hot glare. Even now, when they were all sharing this grief, she hadn’t forgotten that Adrien and Marinette had lied to them.

Nino moved in closer to Alya, like a shield. ‘You know, if you’d told us about the dome sooner, maybe we could’ve –’

‘What, Nino?’ Adrien knelt beside Marinette. ‘What exactly could we have done about this?’

‘We could’ve tried to find a way through the barrier. We could’ve escaped and got Josie some real help, instead of this fucking joke we’re calling a hospital.’

Rose winced, and Juleka tightened her grip on her hand. Even Alya gasped, while Marinette continued to stare in mute shock, at a little girl who would never move again.

Maybe Nino realised he’d gone too far, because he dragged his hands down his face. ‘I’m – I’m sorry. Rose…Juleka…you’re doing what you can. I’m just….’ He glared across at Adrien.

Adrien’s fists clenched harder, raising his voice even when a part of him said it was wrong – that they shouldn’t be sitting here arguing over a corpse. ‘For fuck’s sake, Nino, we’re not the only ones who knew about the dome, you know.’

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘It means Felix and Kagami must have known about the dome, too. They didn’t seem at all surprised when the news came out. Your precious leaders were hiding it from you, too.’

Everyone aside from Marinette stared at him, their mouths falling open.

Then Nino’s forehead creased with disappointment, and he crossed his arms in defiance. ‘You think that makes it better?’

Adrien shook his head. ‘I’m not saying that. I’m saying –’

‘Do you have any proof?’

‘...what?’

‘Proof. You know, something to convince us you’re telling the truth, for a change.’

Adrien frowned hard. ‘Nino… Felix’s rules caused this. The no powers rule? That’s what killed Josie. And Felix only made that rule because he doesn’t want anyone to have power but him.’

‘More hunches. Face it, Adrien – you’re jealous. You wanted to be in charge, and then you lost your authority. You can’t stand that someone else came in and took over, and it’s even worse that he’s just a normal person.’

Adrien flinched at the wording. The others winced too, especially Alya and Juleka, who both looked down like they wished they could disappear from this room.

Don’t we all.

Adrien gritted his teeth. ‘I did not want to be in charge, Nino.’

‘Sure. That’s what you want us to think, Adrien Autocar.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Nino, that wasn’t something I even thought about.’

‘Of course not. You’re that much of a hero.’

‘Nino – this isn’t you. This is stress and – and grief talking. You’re not –’

‘What? Capable of calling you out for something when you’ve totally fucked up? Face it, Adrien, you lied to us. You kept secrets. And now, because of your dishonesty, someone has –’

His speech was cut short by the shrill sound of someone whistling, making them all jump. Juleka had two fingers in her mouth, making the loudest sound they’d ever heard from her. When they’d shut up and she had their attention, she let her hands drop and turned to Rose.

‘Thank you’ Rose nodded at her, before turning to the others, anger colouring her face. ‘What the hell is wrong with you all? A child died. We shouldn’t be fighting. We need to…we need to….’

Bury her.

Adrien filled in the sentence in his mind. Maybe the others did, too, because they all looked down, perhaps in shame. An image of the growing graveyard in the park flitted through his head. Now there would be three bodies there.

‘Denis.’ Alya whispered the name, drawing their attention again. ‘Josie’s brother. He’s…he’s all alone, now.’

Adrien’s heart ached anew. That poor little boy. He was far too young to understand where his parents had gone – not that any of them understood. And now…. Even if they found a way to get his parents back, they could never bring back his sister.

A familiar kind of pain throbbed in Adrien’s chest. Something he hadn’t felt since his mother first disappeared.

He used to have dreams – of wandering ghostlike through the mansion and discovering there was an extra room he’d never known existed. An awful prescience always seized him, a sense that something lay in that room, something that made his heart beat faster and his insides twist like snakes. Yet, as hard as he fought to turn around, to run away, his legs propelled him forward against his will, forcing him into the room. His eyes forced him to see – to see the body, laid out on a table, waiting for him to find it.

Each time he went into the room, his mother always looked so well-preserved, exactly as he remembered her. Yet her limbs had been limp and cold – as cold as the chill that burrowed in his core as he looked at Josie.

His chest was tightening, air getting hard to find, and he staggered onto his feet. Marinette looked up at him, a question in her eyes. Are you okay? But of course he wasn’t. How could any of them be okay? They’d just lost another child, and this time not in some horrible accident they could blame on whatever freak event had isolated them here and made the adults disappear. Someone had killed Josie. Kids he’d seen with his own eyes. Kids he could name. And all because of….

Felix.

Just the name made his hand tingle like it was on fire, and he was turning and leaving the Unicorn Centre before he even realised what he was doing.

Footsteps chased after him. Then Marinette was at his side again, keeping in step with him as he pushed out of the building and back onto the street.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘To my fucking house.’ It still didn’t seem real that Felix and Kagami had moved into the mansion.

Probably sensing his black mood, Marinette kept her silence but stayed at his side all the way to the mansion. When they reached the gates, Adrien pushed at them, breathing hard with rage when they didn’t open. Felix had a generator in there, which meant he, out of everyone, got electricity. And instead of using it on something meaningful, or finding a way to share it out, he was using it to power the fucking security system.

God, maybe Nino had a point. Maybe he did resent Felix for taking control. But not because Adrien wanted power. Only because he didn’t want someone like Felix to have it.

Adrien stabbed at the security call button. When there was no answer, he stabbed at it again, restraining himself from punching the box.

At last, Felix answered. ‘Who is it?’

‘The owner of this fucking house.’

There was a pause, followed by the sound of laughter, and then the gates swung open, allowing them entrance.

Adrien stomped up to the door, trying not to notice the way Marinette kept looking at him as she walked beside him. Just as they made it to the front step, the door opened for them, and there was Felix – wearing one of Adrien’s suits from an old fashion shoot. A chocolate-brown number complete with a matching silk tie.

He grinned. ‘Adrien and Marinette. What a delightful surprise. Please. Come in.’ He gestured inside like this was a social visit. Like he couldn’t tell Adrien was two steps away from knocking him onto the cold marble flooring of the foyer. His fucking foyer.

Adrien and Marinette stepped inside, allowing Felix to lead them into the living room. Kagami was sitting on one of the armchairs, one leg crossed over the other, her posture elegant and immaculate.

Felix took the other armchair, motioning towards the sofa for Adrien and Marinette to sit down together, as their guests. Their guests.

They remained standing.

Adrien forced his breath to steady. ‘You’ve really made yourself at home here.’ He himself had never been in this room much.

Felix shrugged. ‘You didn’t seem to want it. It’s a shame to let it go to waste.’ He leaned back in the armchair like he’d lived there all his life. ‘So. To what do we owe this pleasure?’

Adrien bit back a scream, opening his mouth to answer.

But Marinette got there first. ‘Josie died.’ She spoke with simplicity, her voice small and calm. Again, though, all the signs were there. At some point, she was going to break. And when she did….

Felix blinked up at them. ‘Do I know a Josie?’

Marinette’s composure cracked a little. ‘Do you…. Yes! She’s the little girl who got attacked by Lila’s henchmen, all thanks to those rules you made!’

Felix’s forehead creased in confusion, and he looked at Kagami for explanation.

Kagami had paled. ‘I…believe they mean the rule about magic tricks. Josie used her power and Lila’s guards punished her….’

‘You mean brutalised her,’ Marinette said. ‘She was just a child – and now she’s dead, because of her injuries. Because of rules you made and let Lila enforce. Rules you defended even after you knew Josie had been attacked.’

Felix’s eyes widened, his expression frozen in surprise. Then he smoothed out his face and sighed like it was hard work being a leader. ‘I appreciate this is a great tragedy. However, I spoke to Lila about that incident when it happened and no one meant to hurt her. It was an accident.’

Adrien’s jaw dropped. ‘An accident? How many more accidents will happen because of your rules?’

Felix slowly turned his gaze on him. ‘What are you saying, Adrien? You want me to relax the rule about no magic tricks? Now, why would that be in your interest?’

Adrien’s heart pounded, and he went rigid. Because as Felix stared at him, his mouth quirked up at the side, and it was clear – he knew. Somehow, he knew about Adrien’s power.

In the other armchair, Kagami looked at the floor, some private thought running through her mind. Maybe she was reconsidering living with someone who was colder than Josie’s body.

Marinette took Adrien’s hand, pressing it for support. ‘Forget it, Adrien. We’re not getting anywhere with this. There’s no point trying to appeal to someone’s heart when they don’t have one.’

Felix lifted his brow. ‘That’s quite an assessment of someone you don’t even know, Marinette.’

‘Believe me – I know enough. Come on, Adrien, let’s go.’

Adrien gave a numb nod. She was right. There was no reasoning with someone like this.

Felix’s mouth twitched. ‘Forgive me if I don’t get up and see you to the door. I trust you know the way out.’

Adrien’s hand went hot again, maybe with anger, maybe with energy. Maybe with both. A vision flew through his head, of letting the anger find its way out of his fingers, perhaps sending a flame Felix’s way and setting him on fire. His imagination was already filling in details, like the sound of Felix screaming as his hair lit up, his head ablaze like a small star.

Then he gripped Marinette’s hand harder and turned away, hurrying out of the mansion before he could do something he might regret.

Chapter Text

Marinette stumbled out of the mansion, out into the hazy brightness outside, Adrien’s hand firm and hot in her grip. She could feel his anger like it was a physical thing tightening the air around them, thrumming in her chest.

Felix’s words echoed in her head.

Do I know a Josie?

She hurried down the steps and across the courtyard. She had to leave, had to get out, had to put as much distance between herself and Felix as possible. But when they passed through the front gates, she staggered to a stop, unable to breathe.

Adrien let go of her hand, stopping too and turning to her, worry overriding his anger. ‘Marinette?’

She couldn’t speak. She clutched at her chest, her other hand reaching out for something to grab and landing on the tall wall that surrounded the mansion. The world tilted and swayed around her, and she dug her nails into the stone, fighting to stay upright. Each breath was like toxic gas. She couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Adrien grabbed her shoulders, his face right up close. ‘Marinette –’

‘She was – she was okay.’ The words came out in chopped gasps. ‘We fixed her up, and I thought she was okay. I thought she’d healed, but she – she’s – ’

Dead.

Dead, dead, dead, dead.

She dissolved into tears, and Adrien pulled her his arms, pressing her head to his shoulder as her body shook with sobs. Inside, standing there under Felix’s appraising gaze, she'd tried to keep her composure inside. Now, she no longer cared if he or Kagami or even Lila could see them – if they were watching from the great big windows of the mansion. She didn’t care if they could hear her.

‘It’s our f-fault, Adrien. We should’ve checked on her. We should’ve – we didn’t –’

Adrien continued to hold her in silence, his heartbeat heavy. They’d failed Josie. They’d failed a seven-year-old girl who’d trusted them to keep her safe, not just once but twice. And now she was dead. Dead like the other children buried in the park, not to speak of the dozens of kids who had to have died across the city, trapped and scared and alone, because no one had come for them. No one had found them.

Nino was right. If they’d told the others about the dome sooner...if it turned out there was a way out all this time….

God, how would she forgive herself?

She clung to Adrien tighter, and he held her until her tears slowed, her breaths hitching. Even when she’d stopped shaking, his arms remained around her, pressing her close, and she gripped his soaked jumper with weak fingers. Her head pulsed with dull pain, like her brain had been stuffed with cotton wool.

If we’d looked for Chloe properly…if we’d found her sooner...if we’d bothered to check on Josie instead of leaving her at the daycare....

She went still, her blood cold.

The daycare....

Oh god, Manon....

She pushed herself out of Adrien’s arms, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, then began walking.

‘Marinette – what –’ Thinking better on it, he went quiet, falling into step beside her as she hurried down the pavement in the direction of the daycare.

When they reached the front entrance, he pursed his lips in understanding. ‘I’ll get August.’

She nodded without looking at him, pushing open the door and passing quickly into that large open space. Like always, it was packed with at least two dozen kids, most of them playing. Several heads lifted when she entered, and she felt a stab of guilt at how she must look – she didn’t want to scare them.

Alya was nowhere to be seen. Probably still with Nino at the Unicorn Centre, making arrangements for….

Shaking the images out of her head, she scanned the room, her vision blurring as she tried to spot Manon.

There.

She was in a corner, stacking blocks. There didn’t seem to be anyone watching the kids. Not Mylene or Ivan or anyone older than six.

Marinette went straight over, reaching for Manon. ‘Come on. We’re going.’

Any other child might have protested, but Manon only looked up at her silently and allowed Marinette to take her by the arm, gently pulling her up.

‘...you’re taking her already?’

Marinette whirled around. Alya was standing a few steps behind her, watching. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her eyes were shiny, and she looked... small. Smaller than Marinette had ever seen her. A few days ago, the sight of her friend so upset would’ve made her heart swell with worry. Now, anger speared through her, her free hand tightening into a fist. ‘You left her. You left her unattended.’

Alya’s eyes widened. ‘What?’

‘You weren’t watching her . You – you know she can’t – you have to watch her! I trusted you to watch her!’

Alya took a step back. ‘Marinette. I just got back from the pharmacy.’ Her voice was low and heavy with her own anger – and pain.

‘Yes – and meanwhile, no one seems to be looking after the kids. Maybe if you’d kept a closer eye on things, you wouldn’t have had to go to the pharmacy.’

Alya flinched like she’d been slapped. ‘Are you kidding me? We watch the kids, Marinette. Mylene and Ivan are probably just in the kitchen sorting out food. They can’t be everywhere at once. No one can.’

‘Maybe – maybe – but some kids need extra attention. Kids like – like Manon. I trusted you to watch her, Alya!’

‘And I do watch her. I watch her every damn day, while you go off with your boyfriend.’

‘He’s not my –’

‘Oh, give me a break, Marinette. You want to talk about trust? How about hiding the truth about the dome from all of us?’

‘We didn’t know what to do, Alya!’

‘Well, we didn’t, either!’

They stared at each other, both of them shaking. The other children had huddled together in groups, watching them with tearful eyes. All except Manon, who looked out the window, her gaze bland like she had no idea what was going on around her.

Alya wiped at her eye, then turned around and walked away. Marinette’s heart pounded in her ears, Alya’s words hot in her mind. Pharmacy...I do watch her...trust.....

Her heart cracking, she whirled around, almost colliding with Adrien. How much had he heard? Maybe all of it, because he wrapped one arm around her, his other arm supporting August. The little boy rubbed at his eyes like he’d just been woken from an afternoon nap. Without a word, Adrien led them out of the daycare and back home.

It was still early – too early for dinner. But once up in the apartment, Adrien started preparing their meal – packet chips, crackers, canned tuna, and cut-up fruit. Neither of them had the energy to climb up to the balcony and cook a proper hot dinner, like the rice and veggies they’d made the night before.

Marinette offered to help, but Adrien shooed her away, so she sat on the couch, watching August hollowly as he waddled around the coffee table. Manon sat quietly beside her. Did she remember the bitter words that had been slung in the daycare? Had she processed any of that argument?

I do watch her. I watch her every damn day, while you go off with your boyfriend.

You want to talk about trust? How about hiding the truth about the dome from all of us?

Marinette forced down a fresh wave of tears. She’d never fought with Alya – ever. Just the thought of it made her stomach twist with sickness. She’d been unreasonable – unfair. Alya had been watching Manon, just like she’d been watching….

Josie...Josie....

An unpleasant smell drifted her way, pulling her out of her morbid thoughts. She stood and grabbed August. ‘Nappy,’ she mumbled to Adrien as she headed over to the steps that led up to her bedroom.

He nodded, and she climbed up the steps with August resting securely on one hip – something she’d gotten used to doing. Grateful for something to do, she changed August on the floor and got him into his pyjamas, which she must have done at least a dozen times in the past week. Repetition hadn’t made this task any easier. Or less gross.

Finished, she headed back downstairs, climbing backwards down the ladder as she held onto August tightly. In the kitchen, Adrien had finished preparing their dinner. He stood, frozen, a plate in his hand, facing the living room.

A horrible, cold fear dropped through her chest like a stone as she followed his line of sight. There, several feet above the couch, eyes closed, was Manon.

Floating.

Marinette’s foot missed the last step of the ladder, and she pitched forwards with a cry. Adrien twisted around with a yell of ‘Marinette!’ and the plate slipped from his hands, hitting the floor and shattering. He shot forwards, grabbing her around the shoulders to steady her before she and August could fall face-first to the ground.

Startled by the sudden jolt, August began to cry, his wails stabbing her ears. Adrien was saying something, his mouth moving frantically, but all her attention was on Manon. Manon, who was now back on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen opposite.

Weight left her arms – Adrien, pulling August away, holding him to his chest as he murmured reassurances. Marinette staggered sideways, and something crunched under her foot. A shard of broken plate. Her body moved on its own, bending down and picking up one piece of ceramic, then another, and then another –

‘Stop.’ Adrien crouched beside her, a hand on her wrist, preventing her from picking up the next jagged piece. His gaze was fixed on the ground, his grip as hard as his voice. ‘You’re going to cut yourself.’

He was right. Her hand was shaking.

Standing, he pulled her up with him and led her over to the couch. Manon was still sitting on the other couch as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just – just –

Marinette wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her knees to her chest and staring at the empty space beside Adrien’s arm as he sat down beside her.

‘You knew.’ He spoke softly, but she could still hear the accusation – the hurt – in his voice. You knew she had a power. And you didn’t tell me.

Just like she hadn’t told Alya about the dome.

‘Marinette....’

She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear it. The tears burning her eyes spilled, running down her cheeks, and she pressed a fist to her mouth. Was she ever going to stop crying? Would she ever stop having reasons to cry? ‘I’m s-sorry.’

‘...how long?’

She swallowed hard. If only she could stop crying enough to speak. If only she could bolt out of the room and not speak. But she needed to tell him. Tell him everything. She owed him that much. ‘M-months. B-before...before....’

Before all this happened. Before the dome formed. Before other people started showing powers. Before Adrien told her about his.

He sucked in a sharp breath, the sound piercing her heart. But he didn’t ask questions. He was waiting for her to go on.

She shoved a loose strand of hair behind her ear, choking out her story. ‘The f-first time, sh-she – I was babysitting her, and – and she did the same thing. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, she – she was floating. J-just like now. As soon as I said her name, she moved back to the floor.’

For so long, she’d tried to block out that memory, to pretend it never happened. Because magic wasn’t supposed to exist. Powers weren’t supposed to exist.

Adrien remained silent, like he knew there was more.

‘That – that wasn’t the only time. A couple of weeks later, she...she made this toy come to her.’

‘...come to her?’

‘It – it was on the other side of the room, and then...it wasn’t. Somehow it was in her hands. It happened so quickly, I thought I’d just…. But then the other day, she – she did it again. With that b-bear she has. It was in her room when we went to Nadja’s house, but when we got back to the daycare….’

‘She had it with her.’

Marinette gave him a tiny nod, the tears sticky on her cheeks.

When he spoke again, Adrien’s voice was heavy. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I told you about my power.’

The hurt in his voice forced her to meet his eyes. They were soft and tired and…too much like Alya’s, earlier.

She wiped at her face, fighting not to look away. ‘I was – I’m scared. We don’t know anything about these powers, Adrien, and I – I just...I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to admit it because that makes it real. But it is real. She can do things. Like y-you. Like Laurent. Like Chloe. But – but more, and....’

That word more hung between them.

Adrien pressed a hand to his forehead, running it over his hair, then let out a heavy sigh. His eyes flickered over to Manon. She hadn’t moved from the other couch. ‘I understand. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard it was to tell you about my power. But...we can’t keep secrets, Marinette. Not from each other. Not now.’

‘I know. God, Adrien, I – I know. I’m not going to – I’m never going to hide anything from you again. I promise.’

His eyes scanned her face, like he was searching for confirmation of her sincerity. Then he gave her a small nod. ‘Okay. Me neither. I promise I won’t lie to you. About anything.’

Her shoulders dropped with relief, her tears slowing. He’d forgiven her. He wasn’t angry.

The image of Alya’s furious face flashed through her head again. As much as she wanted to fix things with her…. ‘Adrien…we can’t…. Other people can’t know. Ever. Manon, she’s – she’s powerful. But she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She can’t defend herself. And now, with those rules, and – and Josie –’

Adrien moved in closer, drawing her to his side. ‘No one needs to know. Just like with mine.’

She nodded, her face pressed into his shoulder, grateful for his warmth. Even now, Alya’s words still cycled through her head.

I do watch her. I watch her every damn day, while you go off with your boyfriend.

A sudden cry broke them apart. August was at the side of the couch, rubbing his eyes, his lip wobbling. Adrien squeezed Marinette’s shoulder before releasing her. Getting to his feet, he walked over to August and picked him up. ‘C’mon, little guy. Let’s get you some dinner.’

‘I’ll clean up the broken dish.’ Marinette headed for the under-sink cupboard to retrieve the dustpan and brush, then set to work while Adrien fed the kids.

With the room clean and safe again, Marinette ate her own ‘dinner’, the food as tasteless as paper. Then they headed upstairs, Adrien putting August to bed while Marinette tended to Manon. The girl looked so normal, so innocent, lying under her blanket with her eyes closed. But...she wasn’t. In more ways than one. Her brain worked differently to theirs, in a way Marinette didn’t understand. And she had a power.

Adrien went back downstairs to change while Marinette did the same in the corner of the room, beside her vanity table. Hollow eyes stared back at her in the mirror, under a fringe of dark, limp hair. She looked away quickly, undoing her hair ties and sliding off her bra before reaching for the pile of pyjamas on the floor. She hadn’t washed her hair in days. Hadn’t had a shower in days, making do with a bit of bottled water and a towel. The taps had stopped running completely.

Her self from a week ago would’ve been horrified. Now she couldn’t care less.

With her arms wrapped around her chest, she crossed the room to her and Adrien’s mats, lying side-by-side on the floor. Although a decent time for the kids to go to bed, it was still early for her. Yet she crawled under the large blanket anyway, exhausted. Dim light trickled in around the edges of the blinds they left down all the time.

It was colder than the night before. This time of year was usually like that – cold enough that her mother would prepare her a hot water bottle, and she’d snuggle up under all her blankets, hugging it to her chest.

Maman.

The sound of the hatch made her heartbeat quicken. A moment later, Adrien was slipping under the blanket beside her. As if pulled by strings, they faced each other, Adrien’s gaze on the floor. Up close, the dark bags under his eyes were even more pronounced. Neither of them had been getting proper sleep.

Adrien let out a soft sigh. ‘You know, earlier, when we were at the mansion...I wanted to hurt Felix.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You mean….’

‘I was just so angry. Then my hands went all hot, and I...I imagined him burning. But then, we left and….’ His voice cracked.

‘I – I understand. I was – I was angry, too.’

Adrien shook his head against the pillow. ‘No. No, it’s – it’s different, Marinette. When I use my power, it’s like – it’s like I feel this rush. Like I want to burn things. Like – like it’s a good thing. I wanted to hurt him. What if – what if I hadn’t been able to stop myself? What if, next time, I –’

She reached for him, capturing his hand and cutting off his words. ‘You would never do that, Adrien. You just wouldn’t.’

When they locked eyes, his almost burned with doubt. ‘Felix knows.’

Her forehead scrunched up in question. ‘What?’

‘He’s been living in the mansion. He must have seen the door in my room. Whatever else we think of him, he’s not stupid. He’s worked it out. He knows what I can do.’

‘Then why hasn’t he done anything about it?’

‘That’s what scares me.’ He fell silent, letting his worries fill the space between them.

She edged a little closer to him, without thinking. ‘You know what scares me? Tomorrow. If – if Aurore disappears....’

Adrien bit his lip, and she waited for the words. For him to say it. She’s not going to disappear.

Instead, he squeezed her hand tighter. ‘Yeah, that…that scares me too.’

She forced down the hard lump forming in her throat. Suddenly, the feel of his palm wasn’t enough, and she shuffled closer still, their bent knees touching. He went still, and her heart squeezed painfully.

Too much. He doesn’t – he doesn’t want –

Then he shifted, adjusting the blanket so that it covered them more snugly. One arm came around her back, pulling her right up against him. She let out a tiny sigh, closing her eyes.

Adrien....

How quickly it had become normal to sleep beside him. The thought of ever sleeping alone again was more than she could stand. She needed him, not just beside her like all the other nights, but in his arms, feeling him as she was now. His hand on her back...his breath close enough to tickle her nose...the warmth of his body radiating into hers.

His hold on her tightened, telling her he felt the same, and her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed, and her mind grew quiet, the hardness of the mat and the chill of the floor fading away until it was just him.

Chapter Text

Nestled into the armchair he’d selected in the Agrestes’ living room, Felix tapped his foot on the floor and glared at Lila on the sofa – studied her. He hadn’t known her long. She’d only breezed into the Academy last year. In that time, almost every word out of her mouth had almost certainly been a lie, stories told so she could forget the facts of her life. He might have felt sorry for her if she weren’t such a total fucking bitch.

Who fucking cared if she had some tragic sob story? They all did. That’s why they were at the Academy, a fanciful word for school for the troubled and downright unhinged. In that place, they should’ve all had each other’s backs – them versus the world of authority figures who stopped caring the second you left the room. But Lila was the sort of person who didn’t hesitate to throw her peers under the bus. Somehow, while other students were slapped with detentions, she smiled that fucking smile of hers, so sweet it could rot your teeth right out of your mouth, and the teachers ate it right up.

And now she’d landed him in it.

He glanced at Kagami, who sat in the armchair opposite his. As ever, her posture was immaculate and her expression impossible to read as she too stared at Lila. If only he’d been granted a power like telepathy, so he could dig into Kagami’s mind and discover what she was really thinking. Of Lila. Of him. Of this whole situation.

But mostly of him.

Unfazed by their silent inspection, Lila adjusted her position on the sofa and smoothed out her top, a fitted number that showcased her figure more than her Academy uniform ever had. The fact was, she was a head-turner. When she grew up, she’d probably be one of those women you saw on TV, seducing stupid, sweaty men into giving up all their money and self-respect.

‘Felix.’ Her voice was silky and appealing, with a dollop of childlike innocence – completely at odds with her figure…or those eyes she was giving him now. ‘Of course I didn’t want the little girl to die. Who would? The whole thing is a regrettable tragedy, simply a tragedy. But also an accident. You made those rules for a reason, Felix. And you tasked me with making sure they were followed. Poor little Josie was breaking the rules, so….’ She gave a little shrug, as if to say, It couldn’t be helped.

In the other chair, Kagami’s expression remained impassive. But when she spoke, her voice was low and too calm. ‘She was just a child, Lila.’

Felix nodded. ‘She’s right. Your thugs went too far.’ Further than he’d ever envisioned when he’d thought up those rules.

Lila raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you say that to Adrien and Marinette?’ She almost spat out their names – especially Marinette’s.

‘Don’t be stupid. I can’t afford to look like I don’t have things out of control.’

Kagami crossed her arms and gave him a look he felt right in his heart. ‘Looks like they got pretty out of control, from where I’m sitting.’

‘Yes, but I’m getting them back under control, right now, aren’t I. We’re going to fix this.’

‘How? No matter how powerful you are, you can’t bring back the dead.’

Felix flinched, the vision already in his head. He hadn’t seen the body – couldn’t bring himself to look. But his mind was forcing him to imagine it anyway. A child… a child…!

He shoved the thought back, smoothing out his expression before he looked back at Lila. ‘The fact is, you stirred the pot. People are angry now – Adrien and Marinette are angry – and like it or not, others look up to them. We can’t afford to alienate everyone.’

She huffed out a flat, silent laugh. ‘You mean you can’t afford it. I don’t really care if they hate me.’

‘No, I suppose you don’t. Just like when we were stuck in school.’ The thought of the place made his stomach coil with sickness. God, if everyone ran about using all those powers…. It would be chaos. Not just that, but – they might actually find a way out of the dome. And then he’d have to….

He rubbed at his temples, a migraine forming.