Disclaimer: Je ne possède pas Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir, et je ne parle français. Est pas Google Translate merveilleux?

Title comes from a Google Translated lyric of Starset's "Dark on Me".

This is technically a prequel to "Et Maintenant il est parti", but you don't have to read it to understand this. It's a timebroken!AU, so if you haven't seen the Timebreaker/Chronogirl/akuma!Alix episode then I highly advise that you don't read it to avoid major spoilers. Also, I am naming Adrien's mom Victoire in this fic since as of writing this she has no name.

Beep, beep, beep. The heart monitor droned on next to the sleeping boy. Grey has always looked good on Félix, but not in the form of hospital gowns. A couple of his favorite books lay on the nightstand so his parents could read to him, or if he got bored and they were with his other son. Sometimes, when they brought Adrien with them, they'd read to him. Normally, however, when Adrien was there Félix would want to play with his brother if he wasn't in too much pain. Right now, he mostly slept.

Victoire Argeste stroked her son's forehead. She would have been carding her fingers through his hair, but it had fallen out three months ago. Her husband sat on the other side of the bed, holding his hand and staring at the heart monitor. It was slower than normal, but it still looked healthy. A loud vibrating came from his pocket. Her green eyes met his blue ones. "You may as well take it," she said in a matter-of-fact way that made it clear that she was trying not to cry. "In the, what, fifteen minutes that it'll take it's not likely that his condition will change. I'll call for you if he wakes up."

Gabriel pressed a kiss against his son's forehead and then his wife's hand before walking out of the room and speaking to the person from Numéro about the ads that would be featured for his women's fall line. It was a heated conversation that would normally make him wonder why he even hired assistants. However, he needed the distraction. He needed it so badly, yet it was hard to stay professional when he wanted so desperately to either break down in tears, or go back to his sons. Either of them would be good. In fact, he wanted to distract himself from the pain that was seeing the tubes coming out of Félix's nose by going and playing with Adrien. Yes, he would do that.

"Gabriel! Come quick!" came the shrill scream that cut through the air.

"Sorry, I have to go, it's my son," he said to the magazine worker with enthusiasm. It was only after he hung up that he realized that the scream was, in fact, a scream. It was not a call of joy.

Nurses and doctors pushed past him and pushed Victoire out of the way in attempts to stop the monotonous drone of the heart monitor, to bring his precious child back to life.

He should have been there.

"Your parents are here," Chloé told her friend, seeing the white limosine pull up. Adrien had been staying at her house quite often lately, although his brother hadn't. She had once asked about it, and Adrien had told her that Félix was at the hospital for something called leukemia. When she had asked him what that was, he had shrugged and said that it had made his brother's hair fall out. She had screamed in horror because she certainly didn't want her hair to fall out, despite being assured that it wasn't contagious.

Adrien ran up to them and noticed something was off the second his parents exited the car. "How's Félix?" he asked. It had been a while since his voice was truly hopeful.

His parents looked at each other. They had spent the entire drive trying to figure out what they were going to do.

"Adrien," Gabriel said, genuflecting so that he was eye-level with his... remaining son and ignoring the dirt getting on his crisp, clean, sterile white suit. "Do you know what it means to die?" The words felt so wrong in his mouth, and he silently resolved that if there was ever a way to bring his child back to life, he would take it.

Adrien's eyes widened as a thousand images flashed through his mind. In some, he was holding someone, usually a girl. In others, he was being held. The other person varied greatly when it came to their appearance, but usually they were wearing red with black spots, like a ladybug. And even when they weren't wearing a spotted outfit, he could easily place a spotted domino mask over their features. They spoke a thousand languages, but the exchange was always the same: please don't die on me. And then the person being held did. Well, the ladybug-person did. Everything either went black or faded to white when he died.

He blinked once, and the images left his mind as quickly as they had entered it. "It means," he said slowly, swallowing a lump in his throat so he could speak. "It means that Félix isn't coming back from the hospital, is he?" The sudden embrace and tears from his parents confirmed this as true.