Chapter Text
Max is hesitating on his childhood doorstep. He's gone to do what he'd set out to do, and filled his Papa's book with all new stories. He knows his Dad better now than he had when he was alive. He knows just what his Dad meant to so many people now.
He knows his Dad as the protective older brother.
He knows his Dad as the parabatai and best friend of the great legend Jace Lightwood.
He knows his Dad as the respected Consul, who changed the world.
He knows his Dad who had fought for equal rights, and equal love.
He knows his Dad as the friend, who helped others before he was asked.
He knows his Dad...he knows his Dad as Dad. He knows his Dad as his and Rafe's hero with the impossibly big heart. From the moment both of them had been adopted, their Dad had loved them unconditionally.
He knows that same love had been given to his Papa, and that is how Max finds the courage to open the door.
"Papa?" Max calls out when his presence isn't immediately acknowledged. He's a little worried when he still doesn't hear anything. Maybe his Papa went out? That would certainly be an improvement from the state his Papa was in when he left him.
He's a little surprised, and a little relieved when he finds his Papa at his work table, with his headphones in. It's obvious he's not completely over the death of Alec Lightwood-Bane, or else he'd be humming and dancing, the way he always had, but he's working, which is a good sign. Of course, then an anxious thought creeps into Max's head, that maybe it was him holding his Papa back from recovering. Maybe it was his fault his Papa could barely get out of bed before. Maybe he reminded his Papa too much that his Dad was-
"Blueberry?"
Max startles out of his thoughts at the sound of his Papa's voice, and he looks up to see him pulling out his headphones and looking straight at him. Max hadn't thought he could be seen from behind the corner, but obviously he was wrong. It's just like it was growing up, spying with Rafe, only for their Papa to invite him over to learn his spells.
What startles him most though is the growing smile on his Papa’s face as he steps around the work bench and comes towards Max. It's small, but it's still a smile. "C'mon, I see you there. Do I get a hug?"
It's instinctual, the way he falls into his Papa's arms. "Welcome home," is whispered into his ear, and Max can admit to himself that he missed this. This easy affection that has never been in short supply in their family. With a final squeeze, his Papa pulls away, but is still in easy arms length, as he pulls Max back with him. "You can help me with this potion, while you tell me about your trip to Idris," Magnus says, and turns back to his work table.
Max is still confused, but follows without a word. One thing that stands out is just how tidy and organized the work space is. His Papa has always believed in organized disasters, even when it drove his Dad up the wall. Max realizes quickly after that, that the organizing shelves and jars that his Dad got for his Papa years and years ago are set up, and actually being used. His Papa must notice where his gaze is, because he looks almost shy when he explains, “I thought I might try it out. Something new. I have to admit everything having its own place for me to always find it, isn’t terrible.” Magnus rolls his eyes jokingly, and that doesn’t quite answer all the questions Max has. “And how are you? How was Idris?”
Max just shrugs. Things aren’t going as he’d planned, so now he doesn’t really know what to say. So instead he looks at the spell book on the table, and starts putting together the potion his Papa was working on, just to have something to do with his hands. His Papa joins in, not minding the silence, or else just waiting for him to eventually say something. Once the potion has started bubbling, Max doesn’t really have any other way to avoid speaking, so as always, he just blurts out the first thing on his mind. “You-“ he pauses as if thinking will make the outcome any better.
You’re smiling.
You’re out of bed.
You took a shower.
You look…like you’re not dying.
“You seem better,” he finally settles on, and forces himself to look at his Papa as he says it.
His Papa is scratching at the table with his nail, and avoiding his gaze now. An old habit, he’s explained, from days when he used to carve sigils and summoning circles with his bare hands. “Your Auntie Biscuit called and told me to pull my head out of my ass. Well, she didn’t say it quite like that, but the thought was there. Your Uncle Jace on the other hand used those exact words.” He snorts at his own explanation, “So while you and your brother were away…well, I won’t say I’ve gotten myself completely together yet, but I can at least say I’m no longer wearing my ass as a hat. I’ve…stopped wasting time. I know I have all the time in the world, but that’s no reason to miss what’s happening now.” His Papa looks up, and looks his straight in the eye. “Thank you for being so patient with me Blueberry.”
Slowly, a smile forms itself on his face. Of course, the potion chooses that exact moment to boil over. His Papa flinches away from the table, and quickly swoops in to save the day as always. Max jumps away, and clutches his bag out of the way of any possible spray. He’s learned the hard way enough times to not trust a magic potion to not explode. Just to be absolutely safe though, he takes his book out of the bag, and inspects it for any signs of magical damage.
He’s just flipping through the pages when his Papa speaks up again. “That’s…the book I gave…” The absolutely devastated expression on his Papa’s face is one Max has been more familiar with in the months since his Dad’s passing. His Papa is trembling, and Max only knows this from the shaking ladle in his hand, giving him away. Max has no idea what to do, and he normally hates going by his guts, but just this once, he wants to follow his instincts.
So, he grabs his Papa by the arm, and sits him down on the table bench. With a look more determined than he feels, Max almost pushes the book into his Papa’s hands, and Magnus looks at the book, a little lost, and clearly confused by the much larger size. Max takes a deep breath, and tries to explain around his stutter. “It-it's...it's..." Suddenly what had seemed so difficult to grasp before is blatantly obvious.
"It's Dad's story. Right next to yours. It's his story, through the eyes of everyone who loves him." Max didn't stop to correct himself. Like his Papa had said all that time ago, Alec Lightwood wasn't past tense yet. "He...Dad was so important, to so many people Papa. He did so much."
His Papa looks back down at the book, with this new light shed on the matter. He looks almost reverent as he opens it, passes the earlier pages of his own life, and goes on to where his life with his Alexander begins. He flips through page after page, at times reading parts very quickly, as if he needs to know what happens next. Sometimes slowing down to read, and read, and Max can only imagine he’s either reading certain passages over and over again, or else he’s lost in his own thoughts, in a different time and place. More than once, he stops and brushes his fingers over the obvious tear stains left by more than one person. Max doesn’t want to admit how many of the tears wrinkling the pages are his own.
Eventually, his Papa comes to the very end. The sun has long gone down, and Max has been holding his breath for a while, wondering more than once if this was a good idea or not. Magnus stares at the few blank pages at the end of the book in silence. Then, without warning, he speaks for the first time in hours. "Alexander," he whispers, and with a sniffle, he looks up to the ceiling, smiling, blinking as if to keep the tears out of his eyes. "Look at our son Alexander. How did we get so lucky?" Max can only stare, dumbfounded as his Papa closes his eyes, and looks like a great weight has been taken off his shoulders.
After what feels like a small eternity, Max sits down across from his Papa, and puts a hand above the one holding the book open. Magnus blinks back to reality, a few stray tears rolling down his face. His Papa smiles, and that says more than words could ever hope to.
Thank you.
I love you.
I miss him.
He would be so proud of you.
I am so proud of you.
And so much more.
"There's still room in there for the most important story of Alexander Lightwood-Bane," Max says quietly, brushing the book with his magic to add more pages.
His Papa laughs, and nods. However, when Max tries to take the book back, Magnus holds on, and there's mischief, and an infinite amount of love in his eyes. He picks up a pen from the table, and pulls the book out of Max's hold. "You're right. So Blueberry, tell me your story of Alexander Lightwood-Bane."
Max blinks in surprise, his mouth hanging open. This is the last thing he was expecting when he made his way home today. He stays that way until his face breaks into a smile, and his throat makes a sound that’s half laugh, half sob. He hangs his head, and can’t help the smile still on his face. With a nod, he reaches again for his Papa’s free hand, and takes a deep breath. It’s a long story after all.
“Well, it begins with a man who answered the question ‘Who could ever love it?’ by saying, ‘I can’.”