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“What in hell’s name do you—” The words and irritation seemed to die on Magnus’ lips as he took in the form of the boy standing in front of him.
Well, standing was a bit of an exaggeration seeing as Alec was leaning heavily against the door frame, gear ripped to near pieces, hair matted with something— blood or ichor Magnus couldn’t tell— skin littered with deep cuts and gashes. One hand was limp at his side, the other was clutching his ribs in a fashion that had Magnus highly suspecting he was bleeding quite profusely.
“Is now a bad time?” Alec sounded breathless, bright eyes doused in worry and something else — pain, he realized.
“Alexander, what happened?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you but—” Magnus never got to hear the end of his sentence as his body slumped, eyes closing suddenly, head lolling to the side. The warlock was barely able to catch him before he hit the ground, the shadowhunter heavy and unconscious in his arms. Magnus’ heart sank.
It was far from the first time Magnus had dealt with post-battle injuries, but it was the first time he had ever seen Alec like this. They had only been dating for a month, nothing more than a few dinner dates and the shadowhunter coming over to his apartment once or twice for drinks. Yet, here he was, the blue eyed, dark haired boy straight out of Magnus’ dreams, bleeding all over his carpet.
Magnus worked quickly, stripping away layers of shredded gear, healing superficial cuts and scrapes as he went until Alec was bare chested in his living room, a faint sweat casting a sheen over his body. The yellow light coming from the lamps did nothing to help the sallow color of Alec’s skin, and did even less to help sweeten the sickly sight that was the hole in the shadowhunter’s side. It was as if a bear had swiped its paw clean across his side, leaving deep gashes, muscles, tissue, and bone ground to a pulp and rearranged like some demented art project. Magnus didn’t get nauseous easily, especially when healing patients, but something about seeing the damage done to Alec’s body made his stomach lurch, hands going numb for a moment, magic winking out of existence as he tried to recompose himself. He had to get himself together, he had to make sure Alec would live.
“Oh Alexander, what did you do?” he muttered to himself. Magnus wasn’t sure how long he sat there, knitting back together organ and flesh, sinews and cells, making sure that his Alexander would be as good as new. He tried not to look too hard as the small movements Alec made, the wincing, small gasps, the twitching of his hands. Magnus did what he could to help with the pain, but even magic could only go so far. Even when there was no more blood, when Magnus cleaned the mystery fluids from Alec’s hair, when he changed him into a pair of sweats and got him comfortable on his bed, the warlock couldn’t help but worry. Despite the extent of his injuries, and the extensive runes on his skin, there had been no indication, no ghost of the presence nor proof of the present, nothing that indicated Alec had used an iratze. All Magnus could do was sit and hold his hand and wonder why?
It was becoming increasingly difficult to sit still. As much as Magnus wanted to stay posted by Alec’s bedside, stroking his thumb across the top of his hand, pushing his long hair that was overdue for a cut away from his face, he felt like he was going to explode. He was exhausted, using that much magic in a short time would do that to a person, but not so much so that he needed a nap. It was more of a bone-deep tiredness, something that made his body cave to the anxiety gnawing at his gut.
He had texted Isabelle immediately. There had been no obvious sign that Alec had been with her or Jace, but he had to double check. Part of him thought that she might have an inkling as to why he was injured, but another part of him feared they were part of it. However, Isabelle’s bombardment of texts and insistence that she come over to check on her brother simply meant that Magnus was back at square one. Catarina had been next. Aside from being one of his oldest and closest friends, she was a healer, a nurse. If anyone knew anything about bringing people back from the brink of death, it would be Cat. So he should have expected the berating on the other end, recklessness of using so much magic, for not calling for help, and the begrudgingly given advice Magnus had asked for.
In the end, nothing helped. Magnus simply sat and waited, tapping his foot against the carpeted bedroom floors watching Alec’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, checking the bandages every now and then to make sure they didn’t need changing. He wasn’t sure how long he waited before familiar blue eyes swam into his vision, fluttering eyelashes and a deep groan giving way to Alec’s eyes meeting Magnus’ confusion and pain evident on his features, brows furrowed and mouth drawn into a frown.
“What…?” Alec started to say, trailing off as he tried to push himself up, eyes drifting, taking in the familiar interior. Magnus’ hands were on his shoulders in an instant, pushing him ever so lightly back into the pillows.
“Don’t sit up, your wounds are still healing,” Magnus said as gently as he could, hoping to keep the anxiety that was crawling up his throat hidden. He could practically see Alec processing his words, hands finding purchase against the bandages resting over his ribs, memories coming back in a flood, eyes wide and worried.
“Magnus, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” he stuttered, hand raking itself through his hair, no longer matted thanks to Magnus’ magic, “I wasn’t thinking.”
Magnus simply sighed, giving Alec, the beautiful boy who he had somehow fallen head over heels for, the shadowhunter who had gone from a shadowhunter to his shadowhunter a smile before rising from his seat, setting himself down next to Alec in the bed, pulling his hand away from his hair into his lap and interlocking their fingers. He took the rapid flush that colored his cheeks as a good sign.
“I’ll admit, it’s not the first time a nephilim has shown up on my doorstep near the brink of death.”There was clearly a question Alec wanted to ask but Magnus cut him off. “However, it was certainly the first time that it scared me that badly.” He had pointedly not looked at Alec, instead focusing on the callous feeling of his hands, the light scarring across his knuckles, the delicate length of his fingers. Piano fingers , he thought idly.
“Mags,” his voice was a rasp.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Magnus wasn’t sure where his thoughts were going, but he didn’t get a chance to find out, a familiar palm caressing his cheek, turning his head gently. He could tell the effort of even raising his arm pained Alec, but he left his hand there, stroking Magnus’ soft skin, eyes still pain blurred but so blue that he thought he would drown in them.
“I got into a fight,” he started, and Magnus could practically taste the regret tinged in his voice. He found himself cupping Alec’s still raised hand, closing his eyes for a moment, letting Alec’s words wash over him. “I was in the training room, and Dad came in, and starting talking about something with the Clave, I don’t even know what it was anymore, but it blew up into this big argument and I just—” he huffed, which got Magnus’ attention, cat eyes opening to see Alec’s skin slightly flushed. “I lost it. I walked out, didn’t even stop to get out of my training gear, I just… left.”
His eyes didn’t meet Magnus’ as he retracted his hand from the other man’s cheek, running it through his dark locks. “I had my bow and quiver still on me, so I wandered, shooting a few trees or the sky, just… something .” He was far away. His Alexander caught up in a memory, in the regret. Magnus could practically see it playing out behind his eyes, the emotions flashing rapid fire in the back of his mind, like watching a movie at double speed.
“You needed an outlet,” Magnus said, hoping his understanding came through.
“Yeah,” Alec said, though it didn’t sound like he believed him. “Either way, it didn’t matter. I got cornered. A pack of croucher demons. I hadn’t been paying attention and then something got me in the side. I only had one seraph blade on me.” The understanding hit Magnus like a wave. Alec hadn’t been prepared for a night time patrol, his heart was stuck on other matters, he did the best he could. “I’m honestly not sure why, but when I got away, I recognized the area and I knew you would be there. You always seem to be there.” The latter part seemed to be directed more to Alec himself than Magnus, but the thought warmed him regardless. “A bit presumptuous of me,” he chuckled.
“Alexander—”
“Thank you, for healing me. I know you didn’t have to and it’s not like I gave you much of a choice.” There was a deprecation there, something that reminded Magnus much more of Jace than Alec, something he didn’t like regardless.
“I’d bring you back from the brink of death if I had to, Alexander. I just got you, I’m not letting you go that easily.”
“Mags—” Alec’s eyes widened, and there was his shadowhunter. He couldn’t stop himself from dropping a chaste kiss on the other man’s lips, pulling away to see his features soften.
“I mean it, I got you,” he offered Alec a soft smile, heart thundering in his chest, no longer from fear or anxiety, but from care, from the one emotion Magnus swore he’d never give to a shadowhunter. He cut off the thought before it could lead anywhere, hoping to hide his brief realization with a bit of cheek. “Now,” he said, “let’s talk about getting you some healthy coping mechanisms.”