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Magnus forced himself off of the doorframe, and with a last glance to the ashes that were his bedroom, he staggered over to the couch, curling up on it on his side, wrapping his arms around himself.
Alec followed him carefully, keeping a respectful distance.
“I’m just going to sleep here tonight.” Magnus said, trying to keep the devastation in his heart out of his voice.
“Do you want me to get you a blanket?”
“No. I don’t need one.”
“Do you want me to go?”
Magnus laughed wetly. “I want you to go. But I need you to stay.”
Alec furrowed his brow in confusion but didn’t say anything.
“Alexander, I know myself, and I know trauma, well enough to know I shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Alec let that heavy phrase settle on him, expression pained. “I can call someone for you. If you’d rather someone else was here, I’d understand…”
“There is no one you could call.”
“But you have friends, acquaintances, allies… all throughout the Downworld.”
Magnus sat back up, still keeping his arms around himself. “Allies, acquaintances, even some people I would consider friends. Yes. But true friends? Friends that I can talk to and trust with something like this? Who I can talk to about how my very soul was violated by what Azazel did to me? I’ve had three friends like that in my life. Ragnor, Catarina, and on her good days, Camille. Ragnor is dead. Camille is in some dark Clave dungeon.”
“But Catarina’s alive.” Alec said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “I can call her for you. She can come here, I’ll take care of Madzie-”
“If I told Catarina what happened, and your part in it, she would drop-kick you into the next century and she would never let you near Madzie again.”
“I thought she was a healer.”
“She is. And she has her own definition of what that means.”
Magnus didn’t say anything more, and Alec didn’t push him. Magnus returned to his curled up position on the couch. Alec didn’t like how he was standing, feeling like he was looming more than usual, and he paced a bit before finally kneeling down on the floor next to the couch, next to where Magnus had rested his head on a pillow.
“Is this too close?” Alec asked softly.
Magnus shook his head. “It’s fine. Just… don’t touch me unless I ask you to. Or if I have a nightmare. Then you have permission to touch me - gently - to wake me up.”
Alec nodded, sorrow etched into every line on his face. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I know it is completely inadequate but… I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. Intellectually, I know you were in an impossible situation. Rationally, I understand every step you took. I know that you couldn’t afford to be anything but 110 percent sure that I wasn’t Valentine. And I understand that because you weren’t 110 percent sure is why you came with the Inquisitor to execute me. So that you could stop her when you changed your mind. And even if you didn’t…” Magnus’ voice broke again. “… you needed to be there to witness it so that you could live with that pain for the rest of your life. Because that’s what you do. Run straight into the pain and guilt with a recklessness that makes Jace look responsible.”
Alec blinked back tears, nodding, knowing that Magnus was right, remembering their conversation after he’d killed Jocelyn while possessed.
“But emotionally… none of that matters. Emotionally, there is only pain. Sorrow. Anguish. Disappointment. Devastation. Fear. Terror. Violation. He was inside of me. I can still feel him. Valentine. The man who stands for everything I hate. Who hates me and my kind. Who tried to destroy us all. And you couldn’t tell us apart. Not just that you didn’t recognize me - I know how hard it would be to accept anything out of Valentine’s mouth - but that you couldn’t tell that I wasn’t myself. That someone else was walking around in my body.”
“Magnus, I…”
Magnus held up a tired hand. “Not right now. No more. Please. I didn’t want to get into this tonight. Not while it is all so fresh. So please… just let me sleep.”
“I’ll stay right here. I won’t leave you.”
“I know. I know you won’t.”