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I knock the ice from my bones
Try not to feel the cold
Caught in the thought of that time
When everything was fine, everything was mine
Everything was fine, everything was mine
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put me back together again
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put me back together again
~ Karmina, "All the King's Horses"
~~~~~~~~~
"He's going to get himself killed. He's not eating. He's not sleeping. He keeps pretending everything is fine. But anyone can see it's not."
From what Magnus could see, Isabelle Lightwood wasn't doing so well herself. Her hair seemed limp and lackluster, she wore barely a trace of makeup and only a bit of jewelry, and he was certain he had never seen her in sweatpants before. The man he loved was crushed under the weight of his parabatai's disappearance, and as far as the warlock had heard, wasn't interested in any kind of healthy coping mechanisms like sex or alcohol.
"His parabatai rune is infected, Magnus. He scratches it all the time. I think he's subconsciously trying to scrape it off or something." She lay a fine hand on his arm. Her manicure was chipped and broken, and that cinched it, if nothing else could have. Things were not okay in the Land of Lightwoods.
"Please. Please, Magnus. I know you care about him. He doesn't hear me. Mom and Dad are pretty much in hiding back in Idris. Please do something."
He lay his hand over hers, and gave her a soft smile. "You don't have to ask, Isabelle. I was coming to chide him for not calling me anyway."
Her responding smile was weak, and looked like it hurt. He couldn't help but take her into his arms and hold her as she shivered in his embrace. But she pulled away, and her dark eyes were dry. Isabelle was so very much like her stoic brother in many ways.
"I would go out and drag...him...back by his hair myself if I could," she said, tone fierce. "I would kill every one of Valentine's followers with my bare hands and burn down the world. Whatever it took."
In other ways, she was nothing like her careful, reserved brother. When Izzy felt something passionately, she expressed it. Repression was not a word that existed in her vocabulary.
Magnus caressed her lovely face, unable to miss the dark circles under her eyes that even her artistic makeup couldn't hide.
"So would I," he said.
~~~~~~~~~
Magnus knocked on the door of Alexander's quarters for a very long time before he let himself in with a flicker of magic. There was nothing in the large room that gave any hint that something might be wrong to the casual observer. Alec kept the space tidy to a fault, every small thing in its place, and the slightest movement requiring immediate attention to set it right.
The room looked fine, on its surface, but Magnus had been there enough to know that not everything was kosher. In anyone else's bedroom, a watch carelessly discarded on top of a bureau, a single tee-shirt tossed over the back of a chair, a bed pillow still dented with the shape of a head (but the sheets and blankets clearly unused) would mean little or nothing. In Alexander Lightwood's room, these tiny details were sign of a deeply troubled mind, indeed.
Magnus heard the shower, and for a moment, was tempted to just walk in and "accidentally" get a look at that gorgeous, runed flesh in all its glory. But even he, with his lusty nature that trembled always on the razor edge of prurient, knew that there would be plenty of time for that later.
Instead of indulging his own desire, Magnus took the tee-shirt, sniffed it, and tossed it in the hamper. Then he took a seat in the chair, and waited.
A few minutes later, Alec appeared in the bathroom doorway, one towel around his trim waist while he used another to dry his hair. He stared absently into space for a few moments, his movements slow and stiff, before Magnus purposefully shifted, hoping not to frighten his friend too badly.
Alec still jumped and spun to face Magnus, dropping into a fighting stance as his towels fell to the floor.
Magnus studiously schooled his features and tried not to let his eyes fall below Alexander's waist. It was probably one of the most difficult things he had done in over 400 years of life.
"Magnus," Alec said, quickly reclaiming his towel and covering himself. "What are you doing here?"
He decided to go with his original excuse for coming. "You haven't called. I thought I would stop by and find out why."
Alec stared at him as if Magnus just asked why he bothered breathing oxygen. Considering what had happened, Magnus wasn't actually surprised that Alec hadn't leapt to get their romance on the proverbial road, but still... his reaction to Magnus' statement was a little wounding.
"Why haven't I called you? Are you serious?"
Magnus gave an insouciant shrug, hoping he came across as casual when he was really shaking on the inside hard enough to shatter his bones. "I don't like being left hanging. It's rude."
Alec blinked at him, fast and strangely, for a few moments, and Magnus worried he might have had a stroke. But Alec gathered himself once more and turned around, marched to the bureau, pulled open drawers and yanked out clothes (all black, of course), spun, and stomped back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Perhaps Magnus should try actual honesty--the flirty lie wasn't doing it.
Nothing happened again for quite a while, and Magnus knew without having to look that Alec had dressed, and now sat on the toilet, thinking. Or hiding. Or both. Magnus knocked on the door.
"Alexander...I'm not really here because you didn't call me."
"I know," came the soft voice. Magnus' hard old heart clenched like it so often did in Alec's presence to imagine the Shadowhunter might be crying and trying to hide it from him.
"Would you be willing to come out of the bathroom?" Because he could have easily disintegrated the door, if not.
The door clicked, and Magnus stepped aside to let Alec pass. He was fully dressed, down to his socks. He couldn't help but think it was so charmingly Alexander to have socks on even when having a small breakdown in the comfort of his own home.
Alec sat on the edge of the bed and just looked out into nothing, like Magnus wasn't there. For the first time he could remember, The High Warlock of Brooklyn had no idea quite what to do with himself. He stood a few feet away, fidgeting with his rings and just...waiting. For something, anything to happen, to think of something to say. Anything to fill the cutting, grief-heavy silence.
"He's not dead," Alec said without preamble. "I can still feel him. But it's...wrong. I don't know how to describe it."
Magnus came closer to the bed, and gestured to the space beside Alexander. "May I?"
Alec shrugged. His broad shoulders were drooping, and the motion barely lifted them. Magnus did not waste the lack of resistance, and sat.
"Well, if he's not dead, then there's hope, yes?"
Another shrug.
How he wished they had known each other just a little bit longer before something like this happened. Then Magnus could feel comfortable knowing what level of physical touch was okay with Alec under the circumstances. Magnus was a toucher. He preferred laying his hands on skin to just taking up space near someone when it came to giving comfort or affection. Air kisses were one of the most offensive things in the dimension, in his estimation. Unless the kiss-ee was slimy, poxed, or otherwise disgusting, of course.
As it stood at the moment, he didn't dare to touch the young Shadowhunter at all.
Alec sat with his head hung low, and his hand crept across his abdomen, coming to rest on the place where Magnus knew from a single, glorious sighting weeks ago, his parabatai rune was located.
"It hurts," he said, and the agony in those two whispered words ripped through Magnus like a jagged-edged blade. "All the time. He can't have been in this much pain all this time and not be dead. I don't understand it."
Magnus was no Catarina Loss, but he had some small skill at healing. It was automatic--and, honestly, not at all indecent at this particular moment--to reach out and brush Alec's hand away, and tug up the hem of his tee shirt.
The mark was no longer the natural scar of an old rune...it was angry red and actively oozing, the edges almost black with blood.
"Alexander!" he cried. "What is this?"
"Nothing," Alec pulled away from him. "It's nothing. I've just... I guess I've just been scratching it. It's automatic when I'm thinking about...him."
Him. It was difficult to miss that neither Lightwood sibling used Jace Wayland's name. As if he had become the shadow world version of the mundane's legendary Bloody Mary, and if anyone said his name too many times out loud, Jace might suddenly appear with Valentine in tow.
"That's not just from scratching, Alec. That's infected."
Another shrug. "It's fine."
"Damn you!" Magnus snapped, grabbing Alec and shoving him backward on the bed. The only way he could overcome the Shadowhunter with brute physicality was to take him by surprise, so while he had that advantage, he tore Alec's tee-shirt up again and drew healing magic from his center and thrust it outward before Alec could fight back.
Only... he didn't fight back. He just lay there, limp, arms by his sides and staring up at the ceiling as Magnus worked on the nasty looking rune. He had never seen anything like it before, and he had known several Shadowhunters whose parabatai died or otherwise severed their bond. There was pain, there was suffering, sometimes even a deep depression that led close to suicide, but he had never seen a literal manifestation like this.
His magic was barely helping. The wound stopped bleeding, the edges stopped looking quite so necrotic, but it didn't heal all the way. The usually faded scar remained a painful, throbbing red.
"You need to see someone about this, Alec," Magnus said, carefully placing a bandage he generated over the clean sore, and tugging Alec's tee-shirt down again. "I can't heal it."
He took Alec's hand, finding it cold and clammy, and tugged him upright. The Shadowhunter didn't let go even once he was sitting up, and Magnus held on as gently, but as tightly, as he could.
Jace Wayland might be gone, but Magnus would be shredded with a cheese grater and fed to Church before he'd let Alexander fade away too.
"I thought he'd come back," Alec said. "I thought... he must have had a plan, right? He was going to go and kill Valentine, or steal the cup, and then he'd be right back. Every morning, I'd get up and expect him to be in the mess, or on the training floor, just looking at me with that stupid grin and bragging how he brought the whole Circle down single-handedly, and what a wuss I was..." he voice broke, and Magnus moved closer. Screw his personal space. He wrapped his arm around Alec's broad shoulders, that seemed so weighed down now. "I don't know why he hasn't come back."
The silence fell once again, and Alec's pain sat with it, like a boulder on Magnus' chest. He could hardly draw a full breath, and he realized that without meaning to, he had tied himself to Alec somehow, and the young nephilim's soul-deep agony was, to some degree, his own.
Or maybe that was just because he was in love with the boy.
"I wish I knew what to say...what to do to help you feel better," he murmured, gently rubbing Alec's shoulder.
Alec's gaze snapped up. "Bring him back. Cast a spell. Just... force him to come back. Say that you can save him. That you can make it okay."
Rage blazed through Magnus, cold and hard, like nothing he remembered ever feeling before. "I would do anything, Alexander. I would kill or die, use every last ounce of my magick, pull in every favor from every unpleasant creature in this universe or any other, if I could do that for you. I've never wished for anything more than to take this pain away, and bring your brother back to you. I know that doesn't really help, but...there it is."
Usually so strong, so tall and proud, Alec just sagged against Magnus' side, letting his head fall on the warlock's shoulder. "No, it does. I know you would, if you could. I wish you would even just...promise it."
"If that would change anything, I would. But I will never lie to you. And I can't be sure what will happen with Jace. I do believe, though, that somehow, someday he'll return."
Yes, Magnus had nursed a terrible, burning, irrational jealousy toward Alec's golden parabatai, knowing he had been the first man to hold his love's heart, the first man toward whom Alexander realized he had anything more than friendly feelings. There was no one who could ever take the place of a heart's first beloved.
But he loved Alexander, and Alexander loved Jace. While the Jace and Alec would never have a romantic relationship, he knew from being a first hand witness many times how close the bond of the parabatai could be. He would never, ever begrudge Alec that love.
"Magnus...why would he do it? Why would he leave like that and not come back? It doesn't' t make any sense."
"Why did you stop Clary from following him into the portal?"
Alec looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, why didn't you just let Clary go after Jace? Why didn't you go after him?"
"We didn't know where the portal led. There was no way to direct ourselves anywhere. We all would have died...or worse."
"The circumstances dictated that you let him go. Valentine forced all of our hands, and he knew it. Jace knew it as well. There was no other choice to be made, in that moment. Jace did what he did because he needed to discover for himself who he was, what he's made of. He needed us all to live to fight another day. For him, if not with him."
"That's just..." Alec shook Magnus off and rose to pace the room, running his fingers through his still-damp hair. "That's bullshit! We could have taken them all, right there! Jace didn't have to go with them!"
Magnus wished with all of his might that his magick could at least help Alec understand what his foster brother did and why. The terrible weight of not being certain if you were good or evil, down to your very cells. Knowing that your actions could affect everyone you loved in terrible ways. Having bare moments to make a decision that would change your life, and theirs, forever. He knew all of these feelings intimately.
"You know as well as I do that's not true. And even if it was...Alexander, what do you think slowly killing yourself is going to accomplish? What if we do have to go and save Jace? What about when--not if--Valentine comes for us? Will you even be able to lift a sword? Draw your bow? You look...well, you're gorgeous, as usual, but...it's apparent to me that you're sick. Body and soul. Your heart is broken. You can't go on like you have been. It does nothing for anyone." He reached out a hand, and Alec stared at it for a moment, before finally taking it. He let Magnus pull him back down beside him on the bed. "It breaks my heart. It kills me, to watch you die inside. That infection in your Parabatai rune isn't just because of Jace's struggle and absence...it's because you're letting it eat away at you. Taking all the blame as you're so wont to do. It has to stop."
Alec shook his head, and Magnus noticed a tear slide off his cheek and splash onto the leg of his black pants. "I don't know how. I've never had to stand without Jace. Ever. Or at least, not for almost as long as I can remember. It's like I'm missing a limb. Or a lung. It feels wrong."
How much worse would it be if Jace did die? If he did break their bond? The thought of it sent a frightened shudder down Magnus' spine.
He would take the weight. At least as much of it as he was able, not being bound to Alec the way Jace was. He would do it, or go insane trying. Magnus let his magick loose, just a little, to press into Alec where their arms and legs met side by side. It wasn't healing magick, exactly, just... energy. A little of Magnus' own life force to hold together some small part of what Alec had lost. It wasn't much, just hopefully enough to keep him from splintering apart entirely.
Magnus couldn't bear the thought of that.
Slowly, Alec turned to face him once more, and his big, blue eyes were dry. "Just being near you makes it... a little less awful, I guess."
"Gee. Thanks." He leaned just those last few inches, and brushed the backs of his fingers down the cut and slope of Alec's cheek and jaw. Like smooth, perfect marble, but with all of its tender flaws right beneath the surface. He cupped that face in his hand, and kissed the soft lips. Briefly, just for a moment, just another spark of magick--one he didn't mean to send, but that always flickered to life whenever they touched skin-to-skin. Alec gasped softly, his eyes sliding shut, and he brought his own hands up to comb through the back of Magnus' hair.
Magnus intended just that small contact. Now wasn't the time for more, to try and move them forward together when Alexander was drowning in place, thinking himself alone. But for all that Magnus knew he should, he could not pull away. Alec tasted Magnus' lips with the tip of his tongue, and before the warlock knew what was happening, Alec had him flat on his back, his big body straddling him, pressing into him, driving him mad with the friction their damned clothes created. He was a millisecond from making them vanish when Alec cried out,
"Make love to me. I need you. Right now."
Magnus' reaction frightened him. On any other occasion, they would be naked and fucking six ways from Sunday in a blink of his eye. But the words--their inflection, and the desperation behind them--weren't a plea of passion. They were a scramble for something, anything to drug Alec into numbness. To make him not have to feel the horrible strain on his parabatai bond, the sensation of ripping and tearing at his very being. He wanted to lose himself in Magnus, and never come out again.
Normally, with anyone else, that would sound like a capital idea. But Magnus felt something for this mortal that he had never felt for any creature before, and he was not willing to let either of them fling themselves over such a precarious cliff, when the rocks at the bottom would be ragged indeed. When the plunging, falling, delicious weightlessness stopped, there would be nothing of them left.
He was not willing to sacrifice what time they might have together in the future for expediency, for satisfaction of this moment's brief desire. He had lied to Alec after all--perhaps he wouldn't do anything for the young nephilim.
Magnus planted his hands flat against Alec's chest and pushed. "Stop. This isn't right," he murmured against the warm mouth on his. "Alec, we have to stop."
Alec didn't show any signs that he heard Magnus, or wanted to stop at all. He kept pulling Magnus more tightly to him, forcing his tongue in the warlock's mouth, holding his hands down with his superior physical strength. Magnus shot just the tiniest jolt of electricity through his entire body, from fingers to toes, and Alec yelped as he jumped away from the shock, then lay on his back with his hands over his face. Magnus stayed where he was for a moment, running a hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath and get his warring emotions under control.
He was the one with the wisdom of years, here. He was the one who had to make sure that Alec survived, that he healed, that he found the strength to go on, no matter what happened to Jace Wayland. He had to be a support for this man he cared so much about...not a crutch.
"I'm sorry," Alec lamented from behind his arm. "I... I shouldn't have done that. That was...I can't believe I did that."
"It's all right, Alexander." Magnus tugged Alec's arm away from his face, but he still wouldn't open his eyes. "Look at me, please." Alec did, but the terrible pain dulling their sweet blue almost froze Magnus where he sat. Almost. "Please don't think that I don't want you. I do, very much. But not like this. I came today to help you heal. Not to help you hide."
Alec nodded. "I know." He grabbed Magnus' hand and pulled it to his chest, holding tightly to it like it was the only thing keeping him from blowing away in a strong breeze. Maybe it was. Magnus didn't mind being an anchor. "I keep wanting to move. I feel like I should do something, but I don't know what. Nothing I would usually do seems right."
"You want to go and rescue Jace. Not wait."
"Yeah."
"I understand. That time will come. When he's ready. When you are. But for now, for this moment? You have to let it go. Please. Your sister and Max couldn't bear to lose you too."
Alec's eyes shifted to Magnus' face. "And you?"
"No. Me either," he confessed. "I... need you, Alec. We're connected too, somehow, in a way I don't fully understand yet. I'm not willing to let go until I do." Perhaps it was selfish, but he had promised Alec honesty.
The tiniest hint of a smile quirked Alec's full mouth, but it was gone in a flash. "Will you stay a while? Just... lie here with me?"
Magnus felt something shift inside him. Something that had been hard and frozen for many, many years. It melted into a puddle of aching need and soft desire, and had Magnus curling beside Alec's big body, wrapping an arm across his chest and resting one cheek against his heartbeat, as if he had been doing it forever. Alec encircled him in his arms and held him close, burying his face in Magnus' hair, breathing him in for a long time. They held each other, Magnus listening to Alexander's breath flowing in and out of his lungs, a melody for the vital percussion of his heart. What felt like a sweet eternity passed before he felt Alec go soft and pliant, his embrace relaxing.
Magnus looked up, and found his love fast asleep. Well. At least he had made himself of some use after all. He lay his head back down and let himself drift off. They would need as much rest as possible to face the coming days, and he could think of nowhere he felt safer than in the arms of his Shadowhunter.