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“I need you to go to the council meeting for me,” Alec declared as soon as he entered the Institute’s kitchen, where Isabelle was cooking something undoubtedly sacrilegious. He waited impatiently while she slowly finished cutting up an indiscernible vegetable, her eyebrows raised.
“Hello to you too, Alec. And how are you doing this fine evening? I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”
Alec exhaled carefully. He crossed the rest of the room to the counter she was working at, placing his hands down until she got tired enough of looking at them to look him in the eyes instead. Her eyebrow remained raised.
“Iz,” he said, not doing anything to conceal the urgency in his tone. “We have a lead on the kids. I need you to go to the meeting for me while I check it out.”
Immediately, all humour dropped from her expression. She set down her knife. “I’ll come with you. Get Lydia to cover the meeting.”
“Lydia’s in Idris and you know you shouldn’t be involved. You’re too close to this.”
Izzy bit her lip, blinking hard and trying to mask the hurt on her face as she did every time he had to block her out of this case. It pained him, as it always had whenever he saw his siblings in distress, but it was for her own good. As much as it hurt her not to be able to help, he knew it would be much more devastating if she was involved and this didn’t end the way they hoped. She was already struggling enough with feeling responsible for her trainee going missing, despite it not being her fault.
“Fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t mention this at the meeting?”
Alec circled the counter to hug her and drop a quick kiss to the top of her head. “No, you shouldn’t. Thanks, Iz.”
She hummed in agreement as he left. He should probably be worried about her, or have stayed to talk her through what she should and shouldn’t say to the council. She had never been before, and she was Isabelle. She had a way with words, but he couldn’t say how she’d use them on behalf of the Clave. There was definitely no love lost between them.
He didn’t have time to worry about it, though. The lead had come in suddenly — a fire message from an unknown source that’d dropped on his desk in the middle of a heated discussion with Raj about that week’s patrol. It was possible, and even likely, that it was a prank or a red herring. It could even be whoever was responsible for taking the children leading them in the wrong direction.
But it was all they had. An address and a note that the children would be there. If they were being misled, it didn’t matter. They had nothing better to be doing with their time when every search party came back empty handed. If it was a trap, it didn’t matter either. The chance that it wasn’t made it worth anything it might cost them if it was.
Still, they would have to be cautious. Alec took an extra minute to make sure everyone had suited up with the appropriate gear and another to make sure every one of them who grabbed a weapon knew exactly what they should be doing. It was a very large team that left the Institute, but most of them remained two blocks away, waiting for someone to call for backup. It was a significantly smaller team that approached the building.
Alec crouched on the rooftop across from their target. It was an old textile factory in the industrial district, surrounded by loud, sprawling warehouses. It stood out. Beautiful, historic architectural design in the middle of a sea of metal and concrete. It immediately drew your eyes to it, except for the fact that it was glamoured, and so you would have to have activated your sight rune to see it at all.
Alec had. He crouched just behind the ledge of the roof, carefully keeping an eye on the entrance to the factory. They’d looked at the blueprints when they’d gotten here, and it was the only way in or out.
The place looked abandoned. The windows were smashed and boarded up. The lawn was an expanse of overgrown shrubbery that had died and turned grey a long time ago. The roof caved in in a few spots.
It was the perfect place to hide.
An hour passed. No one came in or out. There was no sign of life at all. Not a sound, even with their hearing runes activated.
Alec bit his lip. His stomach turned over with doubt as he decided what to do. Eventually, he decided there was nothing to do but to go in.
The inside of the factory was not as decrepit as the outside. Old textile machines were lined up in neat rows, just enough space between them for one person to walk. Support beams intersected the space, mostly in good repair. The wooden floor was also mostly in good repair, though Alec didn’t doubt it would be squeaking if they didn’t have their runes activated.
They fanned out, but from a first glance it didn’t seem like there were two dozen half-grown shadowhunters tied up anywhere. Underhill was here, despite Alec having avoided him the last week, because he had a good record and they needed the best they could get. Raj was, too, already halfway down his chosen row. He frowned at Alec, who frowned back, and neither of them needed to say what they were thinking. It was a false lead after all.
Just as Alec was thinking of calling everyone off, having checked every row and seeing no signs of life, there was the very, very faint sound of metal clanking against something below them. The six shadowhunters in the room looked at each other, frozen, and then at the floor. For a second, all they did was listen. The sound didn’t come again.
“There must be a way down,” Alec said quietly, already looking for it. The blueprints hadn’t shown a basement, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. It was nothing for a warlock to summon up another room, or for it to have fallen to disuse at some point and not made it into the updated floorplan.
There was not a door, or a hatch, or a hole in the ground to be seen, but there was an exceptionally wonky floorboard in one corner near the back of the factory. Alec prodded it with his toe, first, before he crouched down to rip it up, along with the boards around it. Beneath it was a hole that must have once been a hatch and a ladder that disappeared into the dark two feet down. Alec shone the light on it. An ordinary concrete floor stared back at him.
When he steeled himself and took the rungs to head down, the rest of the team behind him, he didn’t let his heart nor his stomach climb up into his throat, no matter how much they wanted to. He skipped the last few rungs and jumped down, landing gracefully. Immediately, he shone his witchlight around the room.
Fearful, blinking eyes looked back at him. About two dozen pairs. Alec’s breath escaped him.
They weren’t in as terrible shape as he’d feared. For weeks, the Clave had been trying to convince him they were dead or, if they weren’t, they would be soon. Who was going to feed over twenty children for so long?
But they were fed, they were clothed, and the most noticeable pain they felt was only when they were brought upstairs and their eyes were forced to adjust to light they hadn’t seen in ages. They were covered in dirt and filth, but they were alive. Alec counted heads as they helped them up the ladder, and they were all accounted for.
The area was soon flooded with shadowhunters as the children were brought outside. Medics looked each one over carefully before they were slowly shuffled through a portal to the Institute. Half of the smaller team left, too, along with the backup they’d brought along.
Alec couldn’t believe it. They’d found them. All these months of searching, all these months of waning hope, and here they were. Safe and sound. It was almost too good to be true.
Raj and Underhill stayed only because Alec did. They stood in the doorway, watching him stare at the hole they’d made in the floor.
“Alec?” Raj prodded.
“Something’s not right,” he said offhand, thinking out loud. He looked around the factory again. “We should look around again. We still don’t know who did this.”
Underhill took a step back into the factory. “We’ve looked, Alec. There’s nothing else here.”
Ignoring him, Alec picked up one of the boards they’d ripped up from the floor. “The basement was boarded up years ago. Which means they must have portalled in and out.”
“So it’s a warlock?” Raj replied. He scoffed. “Figures.”
Alec turned his head to pin him with a look. “It could’ve been a shadowhunter.”
Raj blinked back at him, taken aback. Underhill glanced between them warily while Raj shook his head, immediately dismissing the idea. “We wouldn’t do this to our own.”
Our own. No matter how hard Alec and the others here had been working to fix things between the Shadow and Downworld, there was still a rift. It was still us and them. There were shadowhunters who were very vocal about their prejudices, who it could be expected from, but then there were shadowhunters like Raj, who listened and mostly respected Downworlders, but whose prejudices came out in rare moments like these. Slips of the tongue that showed how ingrained this racism was in their culture, how long it had been there that it was second nature to so many.
Alec didn’t grace him with a response. He gave the wooden board in his hands another glance before he tossed it back. “There’s nothing here,” he finally acknowledged. “Let’s go.”
The portal had closed, so they would either have to make their own or walk back. Alec thought the walk might do them all some good, give them a second to think and gather themselves before they were faced with what was no doubt chaos back at the Institute as the children were reunited with their families.
Raj left immediately, but Underhill hovered in the doorway until Alec reached it. He fell into step with him as they exited the factory.
“Do you really think it was a shadowhunter?” he asked.
Alec gave him a sideways look. “I don’t know. I don’t think we should rule it out.”
“Right,” Underhill hummed. He looked a little faraway. He offered Alec a polite smile. “At least we’ve found them. All thanks to your persistence.”
“It was a team effort,” Alec replied, but he smiled back. They walked in step for a while, making their way through the warehouse district. They’d gotten the tip off in the late evening, and it had since crossed over into early morning. The sun was just starting to come up.
“I’m sorry,” Underhill volunteered after they’d walked in silence for a few minutes.
Alec glanced at him. “For what?”
Underhill looked conflicted. “The other night. I shouldn’t have assumed. I know it made you uncomfortable.”
Alec sucked in a breath. He chewed on his lip, then shook his head. “Like I said, it’s fine. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”
Underhill was quiet for a second. Their boots collectively crunched the gravel under their feet. After a beat, he said, “I haven’t seen you around much.”
The implication that Alec had been avoiding him was clear, and it was also correct. Alec had been avoiding him, so Underhill had made the logical leap that he was uncomfortable around him, which was true, but not for the reason Underhill probably thought. Alec’s chest felt tight, like it was trying to keep him from breathing.
If Underhill was out, at least to anyone it’d come up with, then he had probably been through this before. Alec could picture it clearly, because he’d had nightmares about it when he was younger and still struggling through denial. The people who found out, who looked at you differently, who didn’t say it to your face, who switched their patrols and surveillance duties and quietly slipped out of the room when you entered. The more insidious kind of disapproval. To Alec, the fear of it was worse than the fear of outright disgust.
Alec swallowed hard. He stared at his boots.
“You were right,” he confessed. “About me. I’m sorry.”
Underhill didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look not surprised either. Alec couldn’t look at him for long enough to figure out what expression he did have.
“Alright,” he said easily. His hands were in his pockets, and his elbows swung a bit with every step he took. He shrugged. “I get it. You weren’t ready. I’m glad to know it’s not because you’re homophobic.”
Alec struggled to find words. He found himself blinking hard. He curled his fingers and dug his nails into his palm until it was easier to think. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I just…”
Underhill cut him off, going so far as to put a hand on his arm to pull him to a stop. “Don’t. Don’t feel bad about it. Everyone in their own time, right? I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn’t have assumed, even if you were gay, that you’d be in the same kind of place with it as I am. And if you felt pressured to tell me just so I wouldn’t accuse you of being an asshole—”
“No,” Alec said, with a short, breathless laugh. He tried to smile. It was tight and felt unnatural, but he managed nonetheless. “I mean, yes, I didn’t want you to think I’m homophobic, but you didn’t force me to say anything.”
Underhill smiled back. “Okay, good.”
He picked up walking again. Alec followed. A bit further down the road, he felt his breath coming back to him. He could leave this here, and everything would be fine. He’d said enough. But, for once, he felt like it might be okay to say more.
“I’ve only said it once,” he confessed. “I mean, people know. Izzy, Jace, Lydia. Ma— Some friends. But I’ve only ever actually said it once, and even then I haven't been able to say it since. I want to be there. I should be there. I’m 26. I shouldn’t still be so caught up in what everyone thinks of me.”
Underhill hummed thoughtfully. “It’s not just about that though, is it? For me, at least, the reason it was so difficult was because I was caught up in what I thought about myself. We’re taught that it’s wrong, unnatural, dangerous. If you hear that enough, you start to internalize it. It’s hard to stop feeling like those things are true.”
“Yeah,” Alec agreed, a bit surprised. This was going much better than he’d expected. He’d thought maybe Underhill would politely back out of the conversation because what did this have to do with him? Just because he was gay didn’t mean he had to walk Alec through his feelings. But it felt like he cared, and like he understood, and Alec had to bite his lip hard enough it bled to stop himself from doing something embarrassing like crying.
Like he’d read his mind, Underhill clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s nice to not feel alone. If you ever want to talk, I’m here. And not as someone who’s expecting anything to happen, but as a friend. Seems like maybe we could both use one right now.”
He held his hand out between them, his fist closed. Alec stared at it. Then, he let a tentative smile cross his face and bumped his fist with his own. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Underhill.”
Underhill winced, retracting his fist a bit dramatically. “Andrew. Real friends use first names.”
Alec smiled again. It felt easier. “Andrew,” he amended, nodding graciously.
Andrew smiled back. He checked behind them quickly. They hadn’t covered much ground. “We should probably head back before everyone assumes something happened and sends out the rescue squad.”
Alec agreed, and they picked up their pace.
.
When they returned to the Institute, it was still in total chaos. It was at twice its usual capacity, with the children and their families and seemingly every high ranking member of the Clave milling about the ops centre. Isabelle flagged him down from where she leaned against one of the computer stations, a young boy spinning around in the chair in front of her.
She pulled Alec into a tight hug the moment he was within reach. He hugged her back twice as tightly.
“Thank you,” she murmured when she pulled back. Discreetly, he pretended to be affectionately putting his hand on her cheek while actually wiping away her tears.
“Thank whoever sent in the tip,” he told her, squeezing her shoulders.
Her brow furrowed. “Do you know who it was?”
Alec shook his head. “No, no idea. I think that can wait, though. Everyone deserves a second to just be happy that we found them.”
Isabelle smiled. She looked at her trainee, still gleefully playing with the spinny chair. He looked entirely unaffected by the fact that he’d been kidnapped and held in a dark basement for some time.
Leaning in closer so she could lower her voice, she told Alec, “He doesn’t remember. None of them do.”
Alec frowned. He looked at the boy, who’d discovered the lever that raised and lowered the seat. It definitely seemed like he was acting like nothing had happened. It was of both major concern and great relief. Concern, because someone had wiped their memories. Relief, because they wouldn’t be traumatized by what they’d been through.
Izzy turned to lean against the desk again, surveying the crowd. “Should we tell the Downworld? Raj said it might be a warlock.”
Alec contained a frustrated groan. “Might be doesn’t mean that it was, and it’s too soon to jump to any conclusions. We’ll tell the Downworld we’ve found the kids and there’s nothing more to worry about.”
Isabelle was quiet for a very long moment, which was her silent way of communicating that she thought this was a bad idea. “What if they could help? We still need to find who did this.”
“And we will. But we don’t want people throwing blame around and turning on each other before we have all the facts. It’s better if we keep this quiet for now.”
“What about Magnus?” she asked.
Alec frowned very deeply. “What about him?”
“He could help,” she pointed out. “He’s the most well-connected Downworlder in the city. And the most in tune to the gossip that goes around. If anyone could find anything out, it would be him. What if we just told him?”
“I…” Alec began, fully intending to dismiss the idea but struggling to come up with the justification necessary to do so. “I guess… that’s not… a terrible idea?”
“Thanks,” she said, bumping his shoulder. “You should be the one to tell him. Since you’re friends now.”
Alec gave her a withering look. He had taken Magnus’s advice the other week and done his best to have a real conversation with her and Jace. Separately. With Izzy, it was painful and he’d struggled to figure out how to voice everything he felt, but it’d also been easy because she’d understood very quickly what he was trying to talk about. The hardest part had been when she’d started crying, because Izzy had always felt her siblings’ pain like it was her own.
It was the reason Alec had never really been angry with her. She often crossed the line and she pushed too hard and she wanted things for him that she didn’t realize he wasn’t ready to want for himself, but she also loved him. She was the first person in Alec’s life whose love he had never had to doubt. She’d been his safe place for a long time before Lydia, someone he knew would listen, even if he never wanted to talk.
He was trying to talk more, now. He was starting to realize that he felt a tiny, tiny bit better every time he did. And the fear that accompanied that was starting to lessen a little each time.
Jace was harder, because conversations with Jace about feelings were always stilted and awkward. It was partly because of who they were as people, but it was also because they were parabatai. Most of the time, they didn’t need to talk. When you could feel part of what the other felt, a lot of things could go unspoken.
So the conversation had pretty much just summed up to Alec telling him it’d hurt him that Jace had been so against his marriage for its duration and Jace clapping his shoulder and telling him he loved and supported him no matter what, dude, and that he'd been much younger and stupider then. He was a married man now, almost a father, which meant he was totally chill, king of relationships and all feelings that might accompany them, and so he totally got it now. Or something like that.
So, they’d talked, and it’d felt much better, but Isabelle was still Isabelle and, though she was trying much harder now, it was difficult for her to leave things alone entirely.
“I told you we’re not,” he said patiently. He folded his arms.
“And I heard you,” she assured him. “I also heard him asking where you were at the meeting tonight, and he sounded very concerned.”
Alec began to process that information, then filed it away for later. He huffed out a breath. He scrubbed a hand down his face, surveying the room. He spotted Lydia at one of the other desks, speaking to one of the children while their parents hovered at their shoulder. Clary’s distinct head of very red hair also stood out across the room, frowning unhappily at one of the Clave officers. She probably shouldn’t be here, with all of this stress and her nearing the final stretch of her pregnancy, but Alec pitied anyone who might try to tell her so.
When he didn’t say anything, Izzy added, “I’m just saying. If you’re not friends, maybe you should be. Hence, you should talk to him.”
Alec sighed. He looked at her. She looked back, raising an eyebrow. He huffed, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, okay. I am the Clave representative for the Downworld council. It is kind of my job.”
Izzy snorted. “No need to flash that title here, Mr. Diplomat. ‘It’s my job’,” she mocked his tone of voice haughtily, bouncing her shoulders. “So noble.”
He shoved her, but it was all in good fun. He caught the eye of Jace across the room, standing behind his wife. Jace pointed at her head where she couldn’t see, made wide eyes at the officer she was telling off, then mouthed the word ‘help’.
Alec shook his head and went to help Lydia talk to the children instead.