Chapter 1: Too Little, Too Late

Chat encounters Hawkmoth, and Hawkmoth learns more than he ever bargained for.

He wasn't entirely certain how he managed it. By all accounts, they had taken care of the problem. Or so he thought. It had been a day like any other... At least like any other day within the last year or so, anyway. Akuma attacks were regular occurrences, predictable and regular as clock-work. So at least Hawkmoth's efforts were predictable in that sense. What wasn't predictable was the nature of motivation the mad man necessarily exposed or rather employed, with each new pawn. Fortunately, that unpredictability kept things interesting as it kept Chat Noir and his lady on their toes- day in and day out. But the lack of monotony came at a price.

Day in and day out, predictably unpredictable became taxing. Trying to keep up with school let alone extra curricular engagements was no picnic, and this didn't include the extensive list of photo shoots he was scheduled for with the upcoming new summer line. Adrien Agreste was up to his ears in responsibilities. In addition, recently, the akuma attacks were taking longer to resolve, creeping into the evening or sometimes into the early night. It ate into additional study- or cram time as it were, steadily chipping away at what little time for sleep he had allotted himself. He was tired, and he could only assume Ladybug was experiencing something of a similar nature, since her schedule appeared to echo his.

To further complicate the matter, the akuma attacks also seemed to be consistently more violent with each new entry. Hawkmoth must have determined the halfhearted villains he created were insufficient for the job. In order to secure acquisition of their Miraculouses he'd have to bring Ladybug and Chat to their knees. Literally. And that's just what was happening. The combination of increasing fatigue and the amassing pressure of each attack was starting to reflect in their performance, at least Chat's anyway. He couldn't speak for his lady, but he was confident he had never been quite this clumsy or quite this unlucky.

Somehow, they were still fighting the problem.

Chat's face skidded to a halt along the concrete. He looked up to see a brick wall a couple of inches from him. It appeared he wasn't as unlucky as he could be. He shrugged internally, wiping haphazardly at his shredded chin as he leapt to his feet again and whipped his baton to the side. He shot a glare at one of the many copies of Split Personality. Chat was out of jokes. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Unlike Timebreaker from months ago, Split Personality multiplied more regularly and free of charging up in order to duplicate. The man replicated himself every fifteen minutes or so, like an amoeba undergoing mitosis. A physically perfect copy resulted and doubled his number with each split but the personalities of each individual seemed to vary. He was probably up to sixteen replicas already, if the pattern held true, but Chat could only see eight. The others were probably after Ladybug. They had been separated over what felt like ages ago, and their efforts to rid themselves of their assailants and had only driven further apart. He needed to get back to the roofs to find Ladybug.

The duplicates circled where he stood, closing in at each side. The closest to Chat's right flicked a switchblade open and lunged toward him. Chat extended his baton at the ground, rocketing himself from the midst of them. He vaulted himself from the end of his pole, flipping himself to the eave of the building only to stumble over his own foot upon landing. Retracting the baton, he ignored the akuma minions scrambling up the building at him and darted to the top of the nearest chimney. His ears perked up to the sight of a figure, no doubt his lady, zigzagging about against the dark horizon.

"Perfect."

Chat grinned as he felt a new wave of energy surge within him. She made everything better. With Ladybug, he could do anything- even defy the sleep deprivation that threatened to take him down at every movement. He sprang to action, sprinting off toward her, leaping with a renewed gusto up and over the alley to the next building. Only, he didn't quite make it. Mid jump, something caught him from behind latching onto his belt tail, steering him off course. His claws dug into the edge of the building, grabbing desperately in an effort to pull himself up. The weight on his tail determined another course of action, however, swinging into the wall and bouncing off, the weight jerked Chat from the wall in its ricochet. The boy let out a terrified yelp as his claws broke from the brick surface, sending him hurtling toward the pavement two stories below.

The duplicate clinging to his tail released him in time to grab the arm of another clone and pull himself to safely. Chat's back knocked into a protruding ledge before he folded over a railing of an emergency stairwell at the waist like a human towel, the momentum then bounced him back over the rail to resume his downward trajectory. Fortunately, he managed to grip the edge of the metal platform for just long enough to reposition his baton. Extending it horizontally between the two buildings, he managed to stop his fall a few feet from the ground.

He dropped to the ground only to be met with a kick aimed for his head. After blocking it, he returned in kind, kicking his oppressor in the gut managing to hit the man backward into another copy. Another replica came from behind, but Chat was too quick. He gabbed onto his baton which remained between the two walls, flipping himself over the man who lunged at him. After missing his intended target, the man stumbled forward and contacted the baton with the bridge of his nose, causing his vision to black out. The man fell in a heap with a gurgled groan. Chat landed a pace from where the man lay, allowing himself a victorious 'heh' in light of his momentary success. His laugh was interrupted by a pained grunt after he landed, however, and he involuntarily doubled into himself. His abdomen throbbed with a dull ache reminding him of his fall from just moments ago. He staggered backward against the side of the building to get a better view of both sides of the alley. Duplicates approached him from both sides, but this time his baton was still lodged in the brick and now rested a couple of meters from where he now stood.

"Fine. Let's play this game," he growled, clenching his fist. He straightened up, raising his right hand above his head. "Catacl-"

A kick hit him the gut, stopping his call short. He doubled over with a hacking cough as pain seared across his ribs. Another kick sent him sprawling before he could respond, followed by a series of subsequent strikes that rained down on him. He protected his head with his forearms, rolling to the side as he saw them coming, but he was sorely outnumbered. The bumps and bruises were rapidly multiplying, and while he was still managing to mostly protect his head, his fatigue was catching up to him and his vision was tiring. That's when he saw the knife-happy copy out of the corner of his eye, driving the blade downward. Chat pulled his lower half away at the last second, resulting in a laceration to the side of his thigh rather than his gut.

Gritting his teeth, he thrashed about more desperately. A couple of successfully connected punches to a couple of faces, and Chat managed to scramble out of the mob for a brief moment. A shriek rang out behind him causing him to whirl around, only to find himself at the pointy edge of the switchblade a third time. The knife point embedded itself in Chat's shoulder eliciting a gasp from the hero, before it was torn out only to be thrust again. Chat managed to grab his baton, striking the hand holding the blade just as it met its mark. The knife glanced down his side, shallowly penetrating his lower ribs. Chat hissed as he extended his baton into the man's face, launching him into the air beyond the other copies. The leather clad boy, scrambled backward, panting as he blinked heavily. If he was going to survive, it would take a miracle. At this rate, he wouldn't last much longer.

As if his thoughts were heard, Chat looked up to see a bright wave flash across the sky. The men all startled, turning their attention upward. Chat Noir watched slack jawed as men disappeared one by one from in front of him.

"The Miraculous Cleanse!" he exclaimed.

Chat grunted again, as he turned over to push himself up.

"Too bad it doesn't rid us of all injuries..." he mumbled, looking himself over, blood decorating the newly acquired holes in his suit.

He extended his baton enough to raise himself to his feet and rested himself against a wall to catch his breath. The ground came in and out of focus as he attempted to blink the weariness away. Ladybug would surely come looking for him after her kwami recharged. Or at least that's what he hoped. But if she was going to find him, he'd need to be either higher or on a main road. He looked down either direction to determine the quickest course back to a main thoroughfare.

He let out a sigh as he prepared himself physically for the last stretch when a black shape fluttered into his view. It fluttered past his nose and Chat realized it was a butterfly void of light.

"An akuma?" he muttered aloud, peering quizzically at the form. "What is it doing all the way out here?"

His thoughts were cut off when he felt a immense pressure suddenly appear above him. Craning his neck upward, he tensed as a mass of darkness fell upon him. Chat yelled for Ladybug and tried to the leap out of its path, but his voice on the air was silenced immediately by the beating of tiny wings as the mass devoid of light smothered him. He swung madly against the cloud of butterflies to no effect. It was difficult to tell if his eyes were even open. He gasped desperately against the suffocating darkness when his limbs grew exceptionally heavy. The sound of his baton clattering against the ground reached his ears as he descended into the darkness.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Adrien opened his eyes. Or, at least he thought he did. Every direction he turned his head he couldn't see any trace of light. The floor he lay on was smooth, most likely a finished tile floor, but the last thing he could remember was passing out on the street. So he had been moved by someone, somewhere, but surprisingly, he found his limbs hadn't been restrained. He flinched at a burning sensation in his shoulder when he tried to push himself onto his knees. Hissing, he grabbed at the wound in an attempt to soothe the angry reaction when he realized he was still clad in leather. Reaching to his head, he found a set of pointed ears still in place, which meant he was still Chat Noir. But he couldn't see. Had he gone blind? Or perhaps- His senses seemed to be returning, as he heard an irregular hum of thousands of beating wings. Surely, he must still be in the cloud that surrounded him earlier. But then, that would mean-

"How nice of you to rejoin the realm of the conscious, Chat Noir."

Chat bristled at the icily calm voice.

Hawkmoth. But if it was really Hawkmoth, why hadn't he-

"You're probably wondering why I didn't take your Miraculous while I had the chance."

'Genius.' Chat rolled his eyes but didn't feel quite fresh enough to mouth off with a clever joke about monologues.

"Because," Hawkmoth continued, "you, my dear Chat Noir, will bring me Ladybug's Miraculous before I relieve you of yours."

This time Chat's incredulity escaped verbally in the form of a wet raspberry.

"You don't believe me?" Hawkmoth asked.

"You'd have more luck if if you just took mine and tried to take hers yourself," Chat chided. "As if I'll willingly help you. Isn't that what your akuma are for?"

"Precisely."

"Last I checked, an akuma victim needs a motive. Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have one."

"You know- and I think you'll find this interesting- I've found there are many ways in which to impose one's will on another."

"Enlighten me."

Chat didn't know if Hawkmoth could see him, but his expression remained deadpan all the same.

"Besides," Chat interjected before Hawkmoth could continue, "I've seen enough akuma victims to know how you work. I wouldn't agree to anything."

A thin smile spread over Hawkmoth's lips.

"Let's just see about that, shall we?"

The flutter of beating wings seemed to intensify suddenly. Chat felt the wings brush more frequently against his face. It felt like some of the butterflies were even crawling on him. He wiped at his face, the butterflies flitting away before getting smeared, only to land once again in the same place they had occupied before. It was mildly aggravating, but it was tolerable Chat thought, only to have something bite him on the laceration he had received on his leg earlier. Chat cried out as it felt like something wedging itself into the wound, intensifying the burning sensation. But it didn't stop there. Something else dug at his shoulder, side, chin- wherever there was an artificial opening, it seemed. Digging, burrowing. It was if the akuma were actually entering his flesh.

"G-get out!" the teen shouted, recklessly tearing at the injuries in order to remove the invasion.

But with each attempt to remove them, more butterflies flocked to the sites. Chat swiped more violently, trying to take down more of the insects in a single effort. Clawing over and over, following gnawing bite after bite, Chat could feel the wounds growing larger and deeper with each contact.

Chat's breathing was growing heavy again. His equilibrium was failing as he tipped to one side, falling to the floor again. Not knowing how else to respond, Chat curled in on himself in a sad effort to protect his body from further damage. But the insects followed him like hounds to the scent of blood, they crept in between the gaps, continuing their feast- or whatever was actually happening. It was too dark to tell, and Chat didn't really care. It hurt all the same. He rolled over, laying face down on the floor, only to find himself covered in a slightly sticky, viscous substance. The liquid coated the side of his face and contacted his lips. His eyes went wide with dread as he made the realization. Tentatively, he licked at the corner of his mouth. The bitter, overpowering flavor of iron saturated his taste buds and he gagged.

"It's your choice, boy. If you assist me, the process will be much easier on you. If not, we will continue until you no longer have the will to resist."

Chat's ears perked up in the direction of Hawkmoth's voice. Whether it was desperation, fatigue, his critical state, or a combination of each that honed his senses, Chat did not know. All he knew was he could now hear beyond the beating of wings. He would hear his own labored breath, the occasional pace of Hawkmoth's shoes hitting the floor, Hawkmoth's voice as clear as day. He might not be able to see him, but he was certain he knew in what direction the man stood.

Leaping up on all fours, he dashed at the voice. Blinded by the blackness as he was, he knew he was right on track when the footsteps stuttered backward.

"What do you think y-"

"Cataclysm," Chat bellowed, slashing his right hand up and over his head as he pounced with all his might.

Light opened up in a gap created through the butterflies as the ones in the path of his hand disintegrated. Chat found himself falling atop Hawkmoth, as his cataclysm scraped the surface of of the man's shirt collar, barely missing the man's face. Rather, it knocked a butterfly shaped broach clean off of Hawkmoth's collar, sending it clattering to the floor rather than disintegrating. Chat collapsed on impact, landing to Hawkmoth's side in a bloodied heap. A light covered the man as he transformed from Hawkmoth back to his original state.

"NOOOO!" the man shrieked. "Wretched, meddling, boy. Just what have you done?!"

The man grabbed Chat by the collar, furiously glaring at him as he shook the boy violently. Chat was unresponsive beyond the weak fluttering of his eyelids in an effort to stay awake. Blood dribbled all down his front to his abdomen, down to his leg. A purple, butterfly kwami with a swirl on its forehead timidly hovered over to the man.

"Gabriel, I think he passed out again," Nooroo suggested quietly, trying to reason with the man without angering him further. "He exerted too much energy for his current state. Even his kwami couldn't prevent it from happening."

"The broach," the man shouted, turning his furious attention to the small entity to his side. "He fractured the broach!"

A small beeping noise sounded as Chat's miraculous flashed a couple of times before a yellow-green light enveloped the boy. A black, cat like kwami appeared unconscious next to the boy. Gabriel looked back to the boy, only to find the bloodied face of his son, Adrien.

Gabriel stared at the teen, mouth agape. Nooroo gasped, quickly covering his mouth with his tiny hands before darting behind Gabriel. Gabriel's hands trembled, still gripping Adrien at his shirt. Realizing this, the man quickly, but gently released him back to the ground. His eyes traveled over the entirety of the boy, noting the deep wounds at the holes in his clothing. Bile rose in his throat at his disgust and he turned aside and retched. Briskly wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Gabriel returned to his son's side. His hand shook madly as he tried to gently brush the blood matted hair from Adrien's face.

"No. No, no no nonono. . . What have I done?!"

Gabriel pulled the teen from the ground into his lap, cradling his body against his chest as he rocked erratically back and forth, continuing to mutter the word 'no' as if it were a mantra. A foreign, cool flow of tears carved paths through the heat in the man's face. He hadn't cried since the disappearance. And now he wept again, his body shaking uncontrollably as he held the person most dear to him. The child he had striven to protect. The boy he worked so hard for was now dying and by his hand, no less. How could he have been so foolish? He had completely lost interest in the Miraculous that was now within his grasp. None of that mattered now.

He needed to get help. His son needed help. Gabriel gingerly lifted the boy into his arms, hoisting him off the ground, Adrien's form drooping limply in his grasp. He exited the chamber leaving a troubled Nooroo alone with his thoughts. An alternate route took him to a side entrance at the kitchen as coming from his office at the center of the house would raise too many questions. He staggered into the room, disregarding the blood he tracked across the floor as he half ran, half stumbled through the hallway.

"Nathalie! Nathalie, I need your assistance."

He tried to regain composure and stiffened up as best as he could manage. Nathalie's head jerked up from her paperwork and she quickly left her desk where she met Gabriel in the main entrance. She lost her professional air when her mouth fell open to the sight of her boss and his son drenched in crimson.

"S-sir..." she stammered, not knowing how to respond.

"Adrien! He was attacked by an akuma. I need you to call an ambulance immediately!"

"Yes sir," Nathalie responded, snapping upright. "Right away."

She dashed back to her office dialing furiously on her cell phone as she went. Her voice drifted to the back of Gabriel's mind as he looked down on his son, only to lose his composure once again. He rattled as overwhelming grief and adrenaline surged through him. Pulling the boy closer to him, he wrapped him against his chest as tightly as he felt was allowed, taking care to not cause additional harm to the wounds. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, spattering on Adrien's face, revealing streaks of pale flesh from under the blood that coated him. The man sniffed angrily as he wept, cursing himself for his carelessness and cursing the emergency services for taking so long. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Adrien groaned weakly, blinking blearily at his surroundings. Everything was so out of focus and indistinguishable. A sniffle resonated above his head as something dripped on him. Was someone crying? He squinted in an effort to focus, but it hardly helped. The person above him seemed to notice his movements.

"Adrien?" The voice was regretful, but gentle. "Son... I'm so sorry."

"Fa-ther?" Adrien managed to rasp out. His throat felt so dry.

"Yes, son, I'm here. I'm s-so sorry." He broke down again.

His father was crying. And he- Adrien, was in his arms. The arms of the man who rarely made any physical contact, let alone hugged him. What was he apologizing for? And why, how was Gabriel Agreste of all people, crying? His memory was so foggy, he couldn't quite remember what had transpired, or how he came to rest in his father's arms. He allowed his eyes to drift shut again. His eyelids just felt so heavy.

"Adrien? Adrien!" Gabriel shook him gently, but his voice was desperate. "Son, stay with me!"

Adrien slit his eyes open a crack.

"Father."

Gabriel looked down at him, daring to hope.

"I'm happy you're with me," Adrien breathed out laboriously, a small smile spreading over his lips as he allowed himself to sink further into his father's arms. Whatever happened was okay with him. This was the happiest he'd been in years.

Gabriel's heart shattered.