Chapter Text
Alec was dying. Alec was dying and Magnus had used the last of his magic freeing Jace from Lilith’s hold. Alec was dying and Magnus couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He just had to hold Alec and wait for a Shadowhunter to come and help him, give him an iratze and stop him wheezing like that. Stop the blood from dripping down his chin. Magnus wasn’t ready to lose Alec to his box of lost loves. Not now. Not ever. Alec was gasping, clawing for breath. Magnus felt powerless in more ways than one.
“You’ll be ok,” he kept promising until help came, holding Alec’s hand in a vice-tight grip. “You’ll be ok.”
***
Jonathan had taken Clary, Simon was distraught, Jace was crushed and suffering with the guilt, Raphael was still gone. And Magnus’ magic was still gone, too. He had to ask Catarina to send Raphael a message and tell him what had happened, because Magnus couldn’t even send a fire-message, let alone portal to him, like he had been doing since Raphael left. Magnus had never felt so weak, so useless, so old.
He and Alec returned to his flat one evening and found Jace on his balcony, sitting amongst the cats like he used to during the short time that he lived with him. Jace was crying. Alec sighed sadly, sat down beside him and wrapped his arms around him. Told him that they would find Clary, that they would get her back.
“I’m so sorry Alec,” Jace whispered for the millionth time, clutching at Alec’s shoulders, at the place the arrow had been stuck through Alec’s chest. They had been so very close to losing him. Losing them both, in one way or another. “I’m so sorry.”
Alec grabbed Magnus’ arm for support and pulled him down into the hug and for a while they all sat together, holding each other tightly.
“It’ll be ok,” Alec told them. “It’ll be ok.”
***
Sometimes Alec would wake up gasping, hand scrabbling at his chest for an arrow that wasn’t there as he struggled for breath. Magnus would hold him through it, resting Alec back against his chest and wrapping his arms around him, holding him safe and close as he murmured reassurances in Alec’s ear, palm splayed over the spot the arrow got pushed through skin and bone and muscle. He would remind Alec that he was alive even as he also took reassurance of the same from the beat of Alec’s heart under his hand.
“We’ll be ok,” he promised, pressing a kiss to Alec’s hair. “We’ll be ok.”
***
Izzy was running herself ragged. She and Maryse had been running the Institute during Alec and Jace’s recovery. Izzy had been leading the hunt for Clary and Jonathan. She looked exhausted, bags under her eyes and so unlike herself.
Magnus kept an eye on her, worried that she would be tempted to return to Yin fen for a boost, just to keep going. But he should never have underestimated Isabelle’s strength.
“Are you ok?” he had asked her, encouraging her away from her desk and doing her make-up for her, covering up the tired circles under her eyes. Izzy loved it when Magnus did her make-up for her. She looked cheered up and so much better for the break, and after Magnus had encouraged her to eat something.
“Are you ok?” She asked him. He didn’t know how to answer her.
***
Life without magic was tough. It wasn’t until he was left completely and utterly empty of it that he realised quite how much he relied on it in his everyday life. That book wouldn’t fly to his hand when it was beckoned. That meal wouldn’t taste quite as delicious as it once did. He couldn’t just portal anywhere in the world that he wanted. He couldn't just click his fingers and having a cup of coffee in his hand.
He was no longer as accepted in warlock circles. He could no longer cast spells for people, only sell them potions. He had become a source for knowledge and potions and ingredients, but could no longer create anything with them. He did not know how to feel about it. He couldn’t feel the spark under his fingertips. He missed the spark under his fingertips like nothing else. Well, actually, that wasn't strictly true; he also missed his glamour. He had to wear contacts when out in public now, because his loss of magic meant he couldn’t glamour away his warlock mark. His cat eyes were permanently on show, now. He wasn’t ashamed of them, of course, and Alec complimented them always, found them incredibly attractive, in fact. But they were such an obvious warlock mark that it made daily life and helping the Shadowhunters that weren't family increasingly difficult and awkward without contact lenses.
Simon was sitting on Magnus’ couch, his knee bouncing with the nervous energy that he had been filled with since Clary’s disappearance. Maia was sitting next to him, holding his hand. Luke was pacing by the window, a nervous wreck since Clary had gone. Catarina was opposite Simon and Maia on the other couch, only half-focused on keeping Madzie entertained, because Magnus knew she was preoccupied with watching Magnus carefully.
Magnus tuned them out and attempted to summon the next book to pour over to try and learn more about Lilith’s resurrection and what it meant for Jonathan and Clary. They were also trying to figure out where he had taken her and what magic he was using to keep them so concealed to every tracking spell tried. Obviously, the book did not fly to Magnus as he wanted it to.
“Damn-it!” he hissed, storming over to the book and snatching it up, heading back to his desk and slamming it on the wood, grabbing his cocktail glass and downing his third drink of the hour.
He did not miss Catarina and Luke exchange a concerned look across the room. But he did not care. He was too focused on flexing his fingers, so devoid of magic and the familiarity of it that it was almost painful, frustration aching in his joints, the deep anger that the magic wasn’t there. The fury and betrayal that his father had taken it from him, of all things.
His hand was beginning to cramp with the way he was moving it. His unglamoured eyes were wide and livid as he stared at them. It was Simon that got up and cautiously approached, gently taking hold of Magnus’ hand and prising the cocktail glass from the other. Simon was easing his rigid fingers, familiar with guitarists’ cramp and the frustration of consistently hitting the wrong chord. Magnus almost snorted at his own comparison; he was an out-of-tune guitar that had lost its magic, its harmony. He only truly softened when Madzie approached and tentatively took his other hand.
“It’s ok,” Simon told him.
“It’s ok,” Madzie repeated, looking up at him seriously.
Magnus gave them a small smile and forced himself to believe it.
***
Maryse found him sitting in Alec's office in the Institute. She gave him a tired smile and pulled him into a hug. She had been the strong one, even through her worry over Alec's injury, her concern for Jace, her support of Izzy, the search for Clary. She had shown Magnus how much she truly respected him too, how much she had come to accept him. How she had thanked him with tears in her eyes for saving her boys that night.
"You're ok, Magnus," she held him tight and told him with such fierce certainty. "Alec's ok. And Clary will be too."
Magnus started to believe it even more. And hugged her back just as tightly.
***
They got a message from Clary. Finally. She was with Jonathan, yes, but she was on her own mission. She was spying on him, able to provide information now that she had figured out a form of communication. Jonathan was plotting something, something world-threatening, and Clary was going to do everything in her power to stop it. Ever the Shadowhunter, Clary. Magnus felt a weight lifted with the elation, the knowledge that she was alive and still fighting. He knew everyone else did too. Alec sagged into Magnus’ side with exhausted exhilaration. Later that night Alec slept like the dead, and slept all night, something he hadn’t done since that awful, cursed night he had been stabbed, Magnus' magic taken, Lilith destroyed, Jonathan awakened and Clary kidnapped.
“She’s ok!” Jace laughed with relief as Luke reached out to squeeze his shoulder, the werewolf tipping his head back to release a breath he likely had been holding since she’d vanished. “She’s ok.”
***
Alec finally convinced Magnus that he was fit enough to return properly to Shadowhunter training, and then encouraged Magnus to do it with him.
“You don’t have your powers to rely on anymore,” Alec reasoned, ducking his head apologetically. “I think you really should learn hand-to-hand combat and weaponry just in case.” He shifted. “It’s also really good for relieving stress.”
“Who says I’m stressed?”
Alec looked pointedly down at Magnus’ tensed hands, which were still feeling the loss of the buzz of magic.
“Fair enough,” Magnus allowed, if only to see Alec smile and have him kiss him.
To be fair to Alec, training was a good way to relieve tension. And build it, in other, sexier, ways. Because nothing could distract Magnus from the loss of his magic quite so effectively as the sight of Alexander shirtless and sheening with a light sweat, twirling a blunted practice seraph blade confidently in his hands.
Normally Alec wouldn’t look so effected by a workout session, but he had been out of physical action for a little while. Magnus’ eyes fell to the clear space of skin on Alec's chest where the scar of the arrow had been for a long time before the Shadowhunter runes had been able to erase the wound entirely.
Alexander was undoubtedly impressive and an absolute pleasure to watch train. And from the way Alec’s eyes were fixed on Magnus’ equally shirtless torso, he reckoned that Alec thought the same of him. Magnus grinned and danced out of the way of the blunted blade when it came at him, twirling, his loose sweatpants ballooning for a moment with the spin. He knew he looked good, like an exotic dancer. Alec’s pupils were a little blown.
Magnus reckoned he had the upper hand, until Alec dropped the blade and charged him, wrestling him to the ground and pinning him easily.
“You good?” Alec grinned a little cockily, tilting his head as he looked down into Magnus’ cat eyes. It was a good look on his Alexander. And Magnus really liked the way that Alec had a hold of his wrists, looking down at Magnus like he could happily devour and worship him, pressing that sculpted body down onto Magnus’. Magnus could have stayed there forever.
But, alas, he had a point to prove. Alec kept telling him that he needed to work on hand-to-hand combat, because Alec assumed that Magnus wasn’t as much a physical fighter because it hadn't been necessary when in possession of such powerful magic.
With a couple of easy moves Magnus proved him wrong, expertly knocking Alec’s balance and flipping them. Just because Magnus had had magic did not mean he did not know how to fight. He had lived for centuries. He had taken martial arts and become a master just for fun. It was something he had never told Alexander and it was worth it for the utterly stunned look on Alexander’s face.
“You good?” Magnus parroted, grinning smugly down at him.
Alec pressed up into Magnus’ grip, testing his hold, and finding himself immobile, lay back, mouth slack, eyes wide with surprise and pupils blown as his rune-painted chest lifted and fell with the exertion of training after some time away from it, and at how quickly he had been bested. And goodness, that was a good look on him too.
“Actually,” Alexander said, lifting his hips, biting his lip, tilting his chin up, “I think I am.” Magnus allowed him to turn his hands over so their fingers laced together. Alec looked at him earnestly, “Are you?”
“Yes,” Magnus surprised himself with his immediate response. He leaned down to capture Alec's lips. “Yes, I think I will be.”