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Alexander Lightwood had pictured his death an innumerable amount of times. He had thought of all the various ways that death could find him, all the ways he could be ended. It was a shadowhunter’s nature to have death at the forefront of your mind.
He never imagined his death quite like this though.
The empty shipment yard was eerie in the way that most abandoned places were at night, the cool silence that blanketed everything. Every corner he turned was a dangerous calculation.
Valentine’s men could be anywhere.
His minions of these illegitimate shadowhunters, overpowered and underprepared, seemed like a misstep to Alec personally, but alone in the dark, the threat was admittedly terrifying. He had ditched the seraph blade as it was too bright in the small area of darkness and instead held one arrow in his grasp, hoping it would be sooner rather than later that he could declare the area cleared.
He didn’t want to leave Jace for too long, even now he could feel lingering pain radiate his parabatai rune. He didn’t want to leave Magnus either in truth, they were on the precipice of something, and most of the time they spent apart now Magnus occupied most of Alec’s mind. The sooner this mission was over the sooner he could refocus his efforts where they were needed back at the institute.
The universe seemed to have something else in mind altogether because just as Alec was about to message to Izzy that the area was clear, in the nanosecond he wasn’t ready, he got jumped from behind and pushed to the ground. He gasped as the air was knocked completely out of him, scrambling to get a hold on something, anything, to get the upper hand now that he was startled.
He struggled to turn around so his back was on the concrete, and he could face his sudden attacker. The man’s eyes looked so far away, his skin was clammy, but his hands were strong. The guy was probably a bodybuilder, Alec would have wagered had he been in the position to. His grip strength was so much more than Alec’s own, and no matter what he did he couldn’t get free.
His hand reached desperately for the arrow that had been knocked from his grip, and once the man noticed he grabbed it, snapped it in half, and tossed it away. Too much of Alec’s body was pinned underneath this man that there was no way he could reach any of his seraph blades or weapons on his belt.
It wasn’t looking to be a promising sparring match.
“Argh!” Alec let out a scream that was part genuine fear and part frustration. He shouldn’t have let his guard down, not alone, not for a second.
“Shut up,” The man speaks, voice droning and devoid of any actual emotion. Whatever drinking from the cup had done to these people, it wasn’t good. Valentine had too much power, and Alec was stuck here instead of doing something about it.
Apparently, when he said shut up though, he meant it. Because one second Alec was screaming out for help, and the next he was gasping for air. The man’s hands were huge, and they were so strong. Alec could feel the rough calluses digging into his neck as he was strangled in the dark by this mundane turned monster.
“Mag-” He gasped, trying and failing to claw this man’s grip off of his throat. He was starting to see black spots in his vision. He had thought it was dark around him, but he was beginning to realize he had no idea what dark was, not really, not against this.
“Ah,” Air was choked from his lungs as he tried to get a breath, body thrashing and desperately fighting to get air. He was kicking and punching and serpentining his body, anything to get an advantage.
In what felt like forever but was really no time at all, he began to lose consciousness. His body was out of air and out of fight.
Really? This is how Alexander Lightwood was going to die?
His last thought before he was lost to the darkness was one that he thought of often, one that he was sure would be the phrase written on his stone in the City of Bones.
I’m so sorry.
--
The next time Alec opened his eyes, he was sure that he had somehow found his way into heaven. The light was so bright that he had to immediately close his eyes against it.
Everything hurt.
Did you carry all the hurt you had ever had to heaven? Was that it?
He felt fingers combing through his hair, a nice gentleness against all the fiery pain. He was sure it was an angel, because who could ever take his mind away from every other feeling with nothing but gentleness?
The angels they learned about were warriors, strict, rigid. He can’t remember any of them who would offer Alec any kindness.
He prepared his eyes now, blinking rapidly to quell the burning at the brightness, blinking until he was adjusted enough to not feel the hurt.
It wasn’t actually that bright, he realized. The room he was in was pretty dark in comparison to the bright white light that seemed to pour in from underneath the door. He tried to speak, but every muscle that he needed to do so was ruined. His lungs strained to get enough air, his throat clawed the word apart until it was just a noise, and his mouth was covered by some soft plastic. What he meant to be a word came out to a garbled, “Hhhhnn.”
“Alexander!” Suddenly, Alec’s view is blocked by Magnus Bane. Definitely an angel his muddled brain supplies. “Thank the angel you are alive.”
His lap is suddenly laden as Magnus’ head falls forward in relief. When he lifts his head there are tear tracks down his cheeks and fresh tears lining his eyes. Alec thinks it’s probably the most heartbreaking thing he has ever seen. “We were all so scared, Alexander.” Scratch that, the hurt in Magnus’ voice is the most heartbreaking thing he’s ever experienced.
In his attempts to lift his hand he realizes he is leashed to an IV. A sudden panic settles over him as he tries to remember what got him here, why he’s in so much pain. He grabs for the plastic over his mouth, hyperventilating as much as he can with his minimal lung capacity. “Hey Alec no,” Magnus’ arm darts out and grabs his hand, pulling it away from his face. “Leave that love, you need the oxygen.”
Alec’s panic must be evident in his eyes, because one look at Magnus and he feels a wave of calm wash over him, dulling some of the pain, enough for him to relax. “They don’t want me to do magic on you, I can’t do anymore Alexander, I need you to try and stay still okay? Do you remember what happened? Just move your head.”
He shakes his head no, feeling the pillow give way beneath his movements.
“Okay, that’s okay.” Magnus kisses his hand before placing it gingerly back down to the bed at his side. “You were out on a mission, at those docks near Valentine’s last known location? You were scouting the area alone and got attacked. The man was choking you, and before Izzy reached you, you were already unconscious. She thought you were… Never mind that. She sent me a fire message and we rushed you to the infirmary. You’ve been unconscious for just over a day. But it’s okay. You had a fracture in your wrist, and part of your leg broke and your collarbone. And of course, your neck was a mess. You were covered in iratzes by the time they would let me see you. All your bones are healed fine, I checked myself, you’re just badly banged up.”
It came back to him as Magnus explained everything. His pain made sense, his faux death making sense in his own head now. He recalled all that frustration, all that anger he felt while on what he had thought was the brink of death. How could he have let himself get in that situation? He felt two single tears of frustration fall from his eyes. “Sorry.” His voice was a wreck. It sounded like he was trying to talk through a straw, the word was barely audible and it hurt like hell.
“Shh,” Magnus resumes, raking his fingers through his hair. “You just rest now, love. Don’t try to talk yet. I promise it’s going to be okay, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Time?” Alec suffers through the pain to ask, he needs to know everything, it feels so disorienting to be like this.
“It’s around 4 in the morning right now,” Magnus softly tells him, “I told your sister to get some sleep, but she will be here as soon as she’s awake I’m sure of it.”
“You sleep,” Alec urges, noticing now the small things that are evidence of Magnus’ own exhaustion.
His boyfriend takes a seat in the chair behind him, pulling it right up to Alec’s bed, the two of them nearly eye level now. “I’ll rest if you stop talking.”
Alec simply nods once, and watches Magnus nod back, taking his hand and squeezing it so softly it’s barely anything.
Alec lets the darkness take him again as he closes his eyes. When his dreams come, he dreams of nothing but angels.