Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s in Pandemonium, staring across the room at an apparition with a bow in his hand .

He’s in his loft and standing over a pentagram, an electric jolt going through his body as he links hands with someone.

He’s kneeling in his living room, pulling energy from the hand in his, stumbling back against a lean and muscular body, exhausted.

He’s holding up his glass and toasting with a tall man, whispering words, flirting.

He’s watching the man train, shirtless, swallowing back his desire and trying to find the words to say how much he wants him.

He’s standing in a corridor, hurt and heartbroken, the man turning his back on him.

He’s storming into a wedding, and the man is striding toward him—

Wait .

Back up.

*

Back to the start.

*

There’s something bittersweet about being back at Pandemonium after all this time. They’re not here to chase a demon this time, or to offer a priceless jewel in exchange for a summoning. They were trying to get Clary’s memories back then, too, Alec remembers. He was against that plan from the beginning, but it led him to Magnus.

He thought himself in love with Jace, back then.

It’s a strange and painful turn of events that leads them back here. He’s not in love with Jace anymore. Clary isn’t the only one missing her memories. Izzy isn’t wearing that necklace today, though it’s been around her neck every day since—

Alec stops his recollection right there, before it turns into something else. He struggles inside, leaning heavily on his crutches. The music assaults his ears as soon as he’s past the door and he winces. He stays back as Jace and Izzy lose themselves into the crowd. He shouldn’t even be here. He doesn’t know why he decided to come, beside to punish himself.

He adjusts his grip on the crutches and looks around the large, dimly lit room, his height allowing him to scan the crowd easily. He can still see Jace and Izzy making progress toward the mezzanine on the other side of the room. The raised space is less crowded, reserved by the bouncers as a VIP section. Alec can distinguish the couches where a mix of Downworlders are lounging, Seelies blending in with vampires and werewolves.

And a single warlock.

Magnus looks different. He’s let his hair grow a little, and it’s not styled up but to the side, streaked with green and purple — or maybe that’s just the light playing tricks on Alec’s eyes. His outfit is flamboyant, gold brocade on a deep red velvet, the high collar opened on his chest to reveal multiple necklaces. Alec swallows hard.

Alec wonders, even now, if Magnus toned himself down for him when they were together, or if he simply didn’t feel the need to be noticed by other people as much when he was with Alec.

Jace and Izzy reach the stairs and briefly argue with the bouncer at the bottom. After a minute, Magnus makes a gesture and they’re allowed in. Alec can’t hear them, not over the deafening music. He forces himself to take his eyes off Magnus and slowly, painstakingly makes his way around the room, circumventing the crowd to avoid getting toppled over. His balance isn’t good enough anymore to risk the dance floor, and he’s in enough pain as it is without taking a fall.

Izzy and Jace are arguing with Magnus, clearly agitated, when Alec makes it to the mezzanine. The bouncer lets him through without protesting. Alec doesn’t look up until he’s made it up the stairs, and when he does, he can hear bits of shouted conversation amid the music.

“—for a bunch of Shadowhunters to come to my club—”

“Magnus, I know you’re angry, but this is about—”

“I don’t know why I’d even listen to Lightwoods of all people—”

“Magnus! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

That’s Jace. Alec wants to intervene, but he can’t bring himself to yell from across the room. He’s not sure he can speak at all.

“I know Alec broke your heart, but—” Izzy starts.

Alec braces himself. Magnus’ eyes land on him, but there’s no recognition in them, only a frown. The truth feels like a knife twisting in Alec’s gut. He was still holding on to hope but his mother was right, there’s no denying it now. Then Magnus looks at Jace and Izzy, his gaze turning angry, and back at Alec. There’s a vague curiosity on his face, a slight tilt of his head Alec knows well — but not anymore, because it’s not meant to be this way—

“Who’s Alec?” Magnus asks.

The knife twists again. Alec stumbles, hissing in pain. It feels like an actual, physical wound. His throat knots up, and he turns away from Magnus. He needs to get out of here.

He ignores the stabbing pain in his hip as he stumbles down the stairs, a mess of crutches and barely controlled steps, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t end up face down at the bottom. He runs out the backdoor as fast as he can, into a back alley smelling of piss and forgotten garbage. The contents of his stomach make it to the floor, behind a trash can.

He leans against the wall, barely avoiding stepping into a puddle of his own vomit, and stays there until breathing doesn’t feel like swallowing needles anymore. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when Jace and Izzy find him. He can’t get Magnus’ face out of his head. The way his eyes slid over Alec like he wasn’t even there. Who’s Alec?

“Alec,” Jace calls him. He must have felt Alec’s distress through the parabatai bond. Though Alec isn’t sure what Jace feels from him anymore, these days. Between the agony of leaving Magnus and his injury, Alec has tried his best to close his side of the bond.

And the last few days, he’s pretty sure Jace has tried to do the same for him. He looks rough, like he hasn’t slept in days — none of them has. Not since Clary left.

“Did he agree?” he asks.

Izzy scrunches up her face in pain. “Yeah, but—”

“He doesn’t remember us,” Alec states.

“Alec—”

“He erased his memories of me, and by extension, you. I hoped he’d remember Clary, since he knew her from before.”

“He does, that’s why he agreed to help,” Jace says. There’s hope and sorrow mixing on his face, warring with each other like he doesn’t know how to feel either. “But how could he—”

“I broke his heart,” Alec murmurs. “He has the power to erase me, so he did. At least he’s not hurting.”

“You knew?” Izzy asks, shocked.

“Yes. Mom went to see him, before the battle. She figured out what I’d done and she tried to tell him. He treated her like she was still a Circle member and he shut the door in her face. She told me once I woke up.”

“Oh, Alec,” Izzy squeezes his arm. Alec leans into her touch, even though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want comfort. He wants...he wants the sweet relief of oblivion, too. But he’s not going to get that. Not yet.

And he wouldn’t want to forget Magnus for the world.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jace asks.

Alec looks away, fighting back tears. It’s answer enough. He didn’t want to believe it, not really. He knew. He knew when Magnus didn’t come after the battle of Alicante. Catarina confirmed it, with a gentleness that surprised even Alec.

But everyone is gentle with him these days, like they’re walking on eggs. He’s become fragile. No, broken.

Broken beyond repair.

*

Magnus sighs. Having Shadowhunters in his loft makes his skin crawl. At least when he told them to bring a fifth they chose someone decent, Clary’s vampire friend Simon. It might make it harder to do the ritual, but Magnus won’t have to clean up after a fourth thoughtless Shadowhunter.

The two he’s already interacted with — Jace and Isabelle — are brash and annoying, clearly used to the spotlight. Simon seems to be dating Isabelle, though Magnus can hardly see what he sees in her beside her looks. She was downright rude the other day.

The third Shadowhunter is more interesting. He’s tall and handsome, honestly one of the most beautiful men Magnus has ever seen, though he looks sad and drawn. There’s something familiar about him that Magnus can’t place. Unlike his sister, he doesn’t particularly look like either of his parents, so it’s not that. Maybe something from one of the other Lightwoods or Truebloods Magnus has known over the years.

He’s avoiding Magnus’ gaze with a consistency that would be admirable if it wasn’t uncomfortable. Is he really so sure of his superiority that he won’t even look a Downworlder in the eyes?

No, it’s not that. Magnus is almost sure there’s something else, something he should know. Something...something to do with the box in his nightstand, the one with a carved bow and arrows on the lid.

He knows what the box is. He knows it contains memories he chose to remove from his mind, memories that must have been painful – Magnus knows himself. If the memories had been dangerous, he’d have put them somewhere safer. This is something else. This is personal. And something in his subconscious is telling him that these Shadowhunters have something to do with it.

It’s only one more reason not to trust them, as far as Magnus is concerned. If they hurt him badly enough that he had to remove his memories...that means heartbreak. Did they do something to his lover, somehow? Did they kill the one Magnus loved?

The tall Shadowhunter – Alec – talks quietly with his siblings in a corner of the room. He’s walking with difficulty, leaning on metal crutches that make a soft tap on the floor each time he takes a step. Magnus tracks him through the room that way, watching him through the corner of his eyes. Each move looks painful, and there’s something emanating from him, like an unknown sickness. Some sort of battle injury, Magnus guesses. From fighting demons in New York, or from the now infamous Battle of Alicante four months ago? He knows there were many casualties, and there must have been wounded Shadowhunters too.

“Magnus,” Isabelle calls him quietly. Magnus snaps back to the task at hand. They’re not here for a social call.

“What?” he snaps at her.

“I know you don’t remember us, but you know you’re missing memories, right?”

“Yes,” Magnus sighs. “I’m not interested in knowing more about them, especially not from you. I removed them for a reason.”

“Alright, alright,” Isabelle relents. “So, do you think you can help Clary?”

“If the Angels took away her runes and her memories, it’s not going to be the same as simply unlocking a mental block or retrieving memories,” Magnus says. “This won’t be easy, and I’m not sure it can be done.”

He sees the others, except Alec, gather around him to listen. “Once, you helped her get back her memories,” Jace said. “It didn’t work—” he glances at Alec across the room, “—but it could have.”

Magnus’ memory of that day is present, but incomplete, full of holes he knows are due to a memory spell. He doesn’t remember why it didn’t work. He hopes it won’t matter today.

“Those memories were ones I took myself,” he says. “I fed them to a memory demon. Biscuit’s current situation is a tad more complicated.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Isabelle asks.

“You said she has pure angel blood, didn’t you? And so do you,” Magnus points at Jace. “The same blood, in fact.”

“That’s right.”

“We’re going to use that. We’re going to ask for her memories back directly from the source. We’re going to summon an angel.”

“Is it safe?” Alec asks, approaching them, and Magnus realizes that this is the first time he’s spoken aloud in his presence.

“No,” Magnus answers.

“Alec, if there’s even a chance—” Jace pleads. “We have to.”

Alec closes his eyes, looking pained. “Jace—”

“No, Alec. It’s not fair. She didn’t chose this.”

Alec opens his eyes again, his whole body stiffening. Isabelle’s eyes widen as she looks between him and Jace, and even Jace seems to freeze in shock at his own words. The whole room appears to hold its breath, waiting to see Alec snap.

“You’re right,” Alec says after a moment, his shoulders slumping. He looks like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. Magnus feels a strange instinct to help him, to offer a body to lean on – but he doesn’t move. “She didn’t. We’ll do it.”

He’s clearly the leader of their group, because after that, there’s no protest, no question, not even from Simon. In fact, Simon looks at Alec with a mixture of admiration and sadness in his eyes, and his gaze is hard when he turns back toward Magnus.

Magnus doesn’t know what he’s done to provoke this kind of hostility. From cocky Shadowhunters like Jace and Isabelle, he expects it, though he’s starting to suspect that their carelessness is only a facade. From Simon, with whom he’s only had friendly, even fatherly interactions? Not so much.

Alec seems to be the only one not angry with him in some way. Instead, he steals looks at Magnus when he thinks Magnus is not looking, and his gaze in those moments is too intense, filled with emotions Magnus can’t even begin to comprehend.

Isabelle makes Alec sit down on the couch while Magnus prepares the ingredients needed for the ritual. Alec refuses at first, looking around him like he doesn’t want to touch anything in the loft, but he relents after half an hour, clearly in a lot of pain. He stays with his back ramrod straight, refusing to relax. He touches the leather of the couch almost reverently, and Isabelle just tilts her head sadly.

Magnus is being far too curious about them. He has no reason to be. They’re just Shadowhunters paying for his services, that’s all. He needs to focus on helping Clary.

The ritual involves painting the ceiling as well as the floor, so he concentrates all his magic on the intricate drawings. “Is this some kind of angelic pentagram?” Simon asks curiously.

“Not exactly,” Magnus answers. “There are similar elements, but this is an angelic Seal.” He doesn’t add that it’s the archangel seal he inherited from his father. An entrance to Heaven, right here at his doorstep, even for a Fallen angel. “It still needs five people to activate it.”

“Summoning an angel,” Simon says. “It’s gotta be dangerous, right? I mean, not for them, but for us?” he gestures to Magnus and himself, excluding the Shadowhunters.

“It could be painful, if the angel doesn’t like our demon blood. Are you ready to do that for Clary?”

“I’d go to Hell for her,” Simon says, tilting his head. “And further.”

Magnus nods. “Angels are unpredictable, but this one will be bound by the Seal. He shouldn’t be able to do true harm.”

“So we just ask him to give back Clary’s memories?” Isabelle asks.

“I’m just handling the Seal,” Magnus says. “It will take all my energy. Jace will ask the question. I suggest you think about what you want to ask.”

Jace nods from where he’s standing in parade rest by Alec. “I already know,” he says.

“Then gather up,” Magnus says. “I’m ready.”

They all stand around the circle he painted on the ground, each going inside one of the smaller circles linked by a network of white lines. Alec leaves his crutches on the floor outside of the Seal area and limps over to his spot with a grunt, standing with his full weight on his good leg.

“Link hands,” Magnus orders.

Isabelle and Jace exchange a look Magnus can’t interpret. They’re on each side of Alec, with Simon beside Isabelle and Magnus completing the circle between him and Jace. He reaches out and clasps his hands with the two men.

The pull on Magnus’ power, as soon as the circle is closed, is immense. If he hadn’t recently received an enormous boost, thanks to his father’s death and Edom’s destruction, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He focuses his energy on keeping the Seal stable, between the floor and the ceiling, a column of light with them on the outside.

The form of the angel starts to shimmer inside the light, wings folded back against his back. He doesn’t become fully solid, instead remaining ethereal, almost see-through.

“Who dares to summon an angel?”

His mouth doesn’t move, but the voice rings in all their heads.

Magnus grits his teeth against the pain blooming in his chest, tightening his hold on Simon and Jace’s hands. It was always going to be painful. The angels hate nothing more than demon blood, even – especially – when the blood is from a fallen angel. It hurts like hell, but Magnus has been to hell, and he’s come back. He can do this. Simon is wincing, but not as badly, his own demon blood more diluted.

What Magnus doesn’t expect is for Alec to cry out and crumple, barely holding onto his siblings’ hands. He’s angel-blooded. He shouldn’t be in pain. Or is it just his injury acting up under the pressure of the Seal?

He looks barely conscious, his mouth half-opened in a cry of pain. Magnus swallows against his own throbbing chest and signals to Jace to get a move on.

“Raziel’s soldier, and Ithuriel’s child,” he answers. “I am of angel blood.”

The angel turns toward him. “Jonathan Herondale. Yes, we know of you. What do you want from the Angels?”

“My lover, Clarissa Fairchild. She’s one of your children, too. You took her powers and her memories.”

“She played with powers beyond her understanding,” the angel says. “She was punished.”

“I’m asking the angels for forgiveness,” Jace says. “Forgive her, and she and I will be your soldiers on Earth, for as long as you desire.”

Magnus grimaces and hopes Jace knows what he’s doing. He hasn’t had much dealings with the angels before, but this is a not promise that can be taken lightly.

The pain is getting harder to bear, and Magnus wishes Jace would hurry up. Simon is looking a little frayed around the edges, his face screwed up in pain.

Alec looks like he’s hanging on by a thread.

“It is not in my power to decide,” the angel says. “But the Angels are fair. We do not deal punishment unjustly. Her sentence is not forever.”

“She’ll be forgiven?” Jace asks, his surprise showing through his facade. “She’ll get her memories and her runes back?”

“Eventually.”

“But when?”

The angel opens his mouth, but before he can answer, Alec lets out a cry of pain and his hands slip out of his siblings as he falls to the floor. The circle breaks, and the pillar of light disappears, taking the angel with it. “No!” Jace cries out, but he doesn’t reach for the angel. He reaches for Alec instead.

He falls to his knees beside his brother. “Alec!”

“I’m fine,” Alec grunts, through he’s clearly anything but. He’s curled up on himself, his face white with agony, even now that the angel is gone and the pressure on Magnus’ chest has left. “I’m sorry, Jace.”

“It’s okay, brother,” Jace murmurs. “Why did he react like this?” he asks louder, looking up at Magnus.

Magnus shakes his head. “I don’t know. It should only have done that if he had demon blood.”

Jace and Isabelle share a look, and Simon’s breath hitches. Magnus looks between them, but none of them is forthcoming with whatever knowledge they have that Magnus doesn’t share.

Alec sits up with Jace’s help, his hand going to his right hip as he groans in pain. “Help me up,” he asks his brother. Jace seems ready to protest, but he must see something in Alec’s face, because he gets Alec’s arm around his shoulders instead. Isabelle goes to retrieve the crutches and gives them back to Alec, who takes them with trembling hands.

Magnus’ heart tightens, seeing him in such obvious pain. He doesn’t know why—

Or maybe he does. The signs are all there, and it’s time he stopped pretending not to see them.

These Shadowhunters didn’t hurt his lover or his friends. These Shadowhunters were his friends, somehow. And Alec…

Alec is the one who must have broken his heart. That’s the only explanation for what Magnus feels right now. It’s like body memory, almost, a level of compassion and love that cannot possibly come from the few interactions they’ve had that he remembers.

Magnus steels himself against the part of his brain that wants to get the memory box from his nightstand right now and open it. He removed those memories for a reason. Because living with them must have hurt too much.

He’s not going to go back on that and expose himself to that kind of suffering just because he’s curious.

“What does it mean for Clary?” Simon asks.

“I don’t know,” Jace says. “He said she’d be forgiven eventually, but—”

“Angels don’t see the passage of time like you do,” Magnus cuts in. “It could be years. Decades.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Isabelle asks. Alec remains quiet, head down, still leaning against Jace.

“Nothing I can think of,” Magnus answers. He stands up straighter. “Which means you’re no longer in need of my services. Please refrain from coming back here unless there’s a true emergency.”

He doesn’t want the reminder that he decided to erase the last — what, three years? — of his life.

Isabelle looks visibly shaken by that, and she swallows. Alec doesn’t look up at all. He turns away like he doesn’t want Magnus to see his face, and Magnus wonders what he’s trying to hide. Jace throws him a murderous look, and Simon shakes his head in sadness.

“We’ll get out of your hair, then,” Isabelle says quietly. “We won’t bother you again.”

Good riddance, Magnus thinks.

It rings wrong even in his head.

*

“How are you doing?”

Izzy leans against the door frame of Alec’s office. She looks tired, overworked. She’s taken on so much in the last few months.

It’s been two weeks since Alec collapsed at Magnus’. He can still feel the pain burning through his veins, eating away at his body, each day bringing him closer to the edge.

“I’m fine,” Alec says, putting down his pen. He shifts in his seat painfully, his hip seizing. He’s been sitting still for too long.

“I wish you would stop saying that,” Izzy sighs.

“I wish you would stop asking me,” Alec shrugs.

They’ve been beating around the bush, trying to ignore the elephant in the room. It’s too big to tackle during work days. They go through the motions like it all still matters, the Clave, the Downworld Cabinet, the patrols. Alec can see Jace and Izzy struggle with it, but he can’t do anything for them.

Clary’s gone back to art school, all knowledge of the Shadow World erased from her mind. Alec has made sure that she’s safe and settled, and all that’s left is watching Jace tear himself apart as he grieves. The hope that the angel brought them isn’t enough. Not when it’s so vague.

Not when everything else is falling apart, too.

It’s been just over four months since it started, since the day Alec made a deal with Asmodeus. It feels like an eternity ago, and yet also like it was yesterday. Magnus’ desperation as Alec broke up with him is seared in his mind forever, and it accompanies Alec’s every waking thought.

Magnus doesn’t remember.

It’s a comfort, these days. Losing Magnus will remain the hardest thing Alec has ever done, but he’s thankful for it, however much it hurts. Because it means that Magnus has his magic again, that he can be happy.

Because it means that Magnus doesn’t have to live through the aftermath.

It’s been four months, too, since the Battle of Alicante. Magnus missed it all. He wasn’t there when they all thought they were going to die there, trapped by the demon hordes, caught in between two forces of evil. He wasn’t there to hold Alec’s hand when he woke up in the hospital to a broken body and demon venom coursing through his veins.

He wasn’t there, when they figured out that it was a death sentence.

Catarina slowed the spread of the venom, but nothing she or the Silent Brothers tried could get it out of his system.

“You’re hurting,” Izzy says, walking in fully and closing the door behind her. “I can see it. I know you don’t like the painkillers, but you need them.”

Painfree runes have long stopped working on Alec’s abused body. The mundane pills were Catarina’s idea. She was there in the aftermath of the battle, when Magnus wasn’t, she ran triage with the Silent Brothers and saved countless Shadowhunters. She did her best to piece Alec’s shattered hip back together and she was the one who figured out what was wrong with him.

“They’re not much use anymore,” Alec admits. The pills are some of the strongest on the market, but his Nephilim body metabolizes everything faster than a mundane, and they barely take the edge off.

No, it’s better that Magnus isn’t here. That he didn’t have to sit by Alec’s bedside after the battle, praying at every new treatment, every test, that something would change. That he doesn’t have to watch the venom slowly win over Alec’s body, leaving him weak and trembling. That he won’t have to wait with them for the day it will reach his heart, and it will all be over.

Maybe a year , Catarina told him . If you stop working and rest most of the time.

Alec has done neither. He can’t. He’ll go out of his mind if he tries to rest anymore than he already does. Work takes his mind off things.

He’s still the Head of the Institute, if only because there is barely enough left of the Clave to hold Alicante together, and appointing new Heads has been the least of their problems.

“There has to be something else we can do,” Izzy says. “To relieve the pain, at least.”

“You know there isn’t,” Alec sighs.

She’s not doing well. None of them are. They’re barely holding themselves together.

They lost their father, the day of the battle. Robert Lightwood didn’t make it out of the destroyed city. They’ve lost Clary and Magnus, and now they’re losing Alec too, as his deterioration accelerates with each passing day.

Their whole family is falling apart.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Izzy says, faking lightness. “We can meet Simon and Maia at the Hunter’s Moon. It will be nice.”

Alec wants to say yes, to give her that, a moment of normalcy amid the chaos. But he’s exhausted and in pain, the ache in his hip never letting up. He’s tired of people watching what they say around him. Looking at him like he’s going to disappear any minute.

He shakes his head. “I think I’ll just go to bed early tonight. I could use the rest.”

Izzy nods wordlessly, disappointed but understanding. “I love you, big brother,” she says.

She says it a lot, these days.

“I love you too,” Alec replies, like every other time. There’s nothing else to say. No it’s gonna be okay, Izzy because it’s not, and they both know it.

Someone knock on the door. “Yes?” Alec calls.

Underhill pokes his head in. “Sir, your mother is here.”

“Let her in,” Alec nods. Maryse has been hovering, and he can’t blame her. Looking at Izzy, he can’t deny her the little bit of hope in her eyes. “Let’s make it a family thing,” he says. “Go get Jace and Max.” He can hold off his exhaustion for a few more hours, for them.

Izzy slips out with a smile on her face and Underhill comes back with Maryse in tow.

“Hey, Mom,” Alec smiles weakly, pushing himself up to greet her.

Maryse strides to his side and hugs him tightly. “Alec,” she breathes, love and pain warring in her voice. “How do you feel today?”

“Not great,” Alec murmurs.

He finds himself honest with her, these days, more than he is with his siblings. She’s been his strongest support, despite their once strained relationship, and Alec is too spent to be angry with her as he once was. All of that doesn’t matter, anymore.

Maryse doesn’t break down, at least not in his presence. But Alec is too much like her for his own good, and he can see her pain in every gesture, in the way her hugs last a little longer, the way she tightens her hand on his arm, the way her voice hitches every time she says goodbye after spending time with him.

She hands him his crutches and supports him as he gets situated. Walking is getting harder every day, as the venom lights his nerve endings on fire with every step on his already unstable hip. Maryse just squeezes his shoulder as he hobbles around his desk and hovers until he’s safely sitting on the couch.

“Tell me,” she says quietly, kicking off her shoes and curling up beside him.

They’ve become tactile in a way they never were before. Neither of them likes being touched much, but as it turns out, terminal illness has a way of making you reevaluate your priorities. Alec lets his family hug him as much as they want to now, even on the days it makes his skin crawl.

He sighs, leaning his shoulder against his mother’s. “The new Inquisitor is a homophobic dick. And he wants me removed. He says I can’t do my job anymore.”

“Jia won’t let him do it,” Maryse says.

“I don’t know. He’s not wrong.”

Maryse takes his hand in hers. “Alec, even now, you’re a much better Head than I ever was. You’re holding up admirably in the worst of circumstances.”

“I’m tired,” Alec murmurs. “I don’t know how long I can do this.”

She squeezes his hand, and he sees her swallow back her emotions. “If you feel like you should step down to rest, I’m sure Jens can handle the fort for a while. Until Izzy’s ready.”

Not until you come back. She’s the only one of all of them who faces the inevitable and doesn’t try to pretend that Alec is going to get better. If nothing else, she’s never been one to shy away from the hard truths.

“Maybe soon,” Alec says. He doesn’t want to, but he’s quickly getting to the point where he won’t be able to work anymore. “I miss him,” he adds, his voice breaking. “I can’t stop.”

Alec can’t get Magnus’ face out of his head. The way Magnus looked at him like he was nothing to him. Alec is nothing to him, now. Magnus doesn’t remember any of their time together.

It hurts more than Alec would have thought possible. He’d thought he’d already reached rock bottom, that nothing could possibly hurt worse than breaking up with Magnus. Than waking up in that hospital bed, having lost everything. But that look haunts him.

Maryse just hugs him without a word.

“Alec!” Max exclaims, rushing into the office with his usual energy. Izzy and Jace are on his heels. He jumps on the couch on Alec’s other side, missing Alec’s quick wince when it jostles his leg.

Max is old enough to understand what’s happening, and not quite old enough to know what to do with his emotions. He alternates between acting like everything is fine and randomly bursting into tears, with no in-between. Today seems to be the former, because he starts rambling about his training without a care in the world.

Alec looks up at Jace and they share an entire conversation in an eyebrow raise. Alec keeps his side of the parabatai bond firmly closed, but he knows that his pain leaks through anyway. He can feel Jace’s despair, the way he’s barely hanging on by a thread.

They say the worst pain a Shadowhunter can endure is the loss of his parabatai. Alec remembers the words. It’s one of the things they learn, in the initial parabatai testing. They’re asked if it’s worth it, risking that.

When they gave a resounding yes, their fourteen-year-old brains had no space to comprehend the pain of today.

Jace and Izzy watch Alec like he’s about to disappear, and he knows, he can see, that they can’t yet imagine what will happen after.

They don’t talk about it during the day. It’s too heavy, to much to bear for all of them.

At night, Alec finds himself more often than not sandwiched between Jace and Izzy in his bed. They come claiming they have nightmares or can’t sleep, never quite saying that they just want to feel close to someone else, close to Alec. They say the words, quietly, the words that won’t come out during the day. It was worth it.

And sometimes, where thou diest, I will die. On those days, Alec hugs Jace tight as he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t mean it, that he will go on.

“—and Kara keeps saying I need to work on my defense, but she’s not a teacher!” Max is saying when Alec tunes back into his surroundings. He’s absently drumming his fingers on his good leg, his other hand still in Maryse’s.

“You should listen to her, Max,” Izzy says. “She’s one of the best fighters of her generation. She’s a fairly new transfer,” she explains to Maryse.

“She’s not even a grown-up!” Max protests. “Besides, Aline said she needs to stop overthinking every fight. So she’s not that good.”

“I don’t think you were supposed to hear that,” Alec says, fairly sure that Aline was not referring Kara’s training but rather the frequent phone calls with her deeply transphobic father that send her crying to either of their offices. “You should spend more time training and less time eavesdropping.”

Max pouts and they all laugh, the lightness of the moment freeing them from the stifling sorrow that’s settled between the adults in the room.

Maryse makes the effort to keep the conversation going after that, though she never releases Alec’s hand. It feels good, to have a normal moment with his family. Jace still has shadows in his eyes, but he settles in a chair and even smiles. Izzy’s cheerfulness sounds a bit fake, but she tries. Alec struggles to keep the pain from showing, but he watches them and feels a deep swarm of love for all of them.

After they’re all gone, Alec painfully stumbles back to his desk and pulls up a piece of paper and a pen.

Dear Magnus, he writes. He pauses, and wishes that even Magnus’ name didn’t make him want to cry. Every minute I spent with you was worth the pain it causes me today.

He writes on, until his hand shakes too much to continue. He doesn’t cross out anything, or bother censuring himself. He puts down his pen, finally, and folds the paper carefully.

He unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk with a rune and opens it. He goes to slip the letter he’s just written inside, but he can’t help but stare at the small box there. He doesn’t open it. He knows its contents by heart. He can almost feel it under his finger, the raised edges of the Lightwood crest in smooth silver, the ring he was going to give Magnus. It will go to Izzy, now. There’s a letter for her, underneath the box.

There are other letters, too. One addressed to the next Head of the Institute, instructions on how to keep the Downworld Cabinet going. Alec’s will, freshly updated. Every Shadowhunter is required to draft a will before their first mission in the field, and rewrite it every year. They know better than any other mortal that they can die at any time.

There’s a letter for Jace. One for Maryse. One for Max, who will have to finish growing up without a father and down one brother.

The rest are for Magnus. During the endless days he spent laid up in the hospital, Alec took to writing him letters. In them, he recounted the strongest beats of their relationship, the sweet moments, the hard truths. Everything Alec can remember, since he now has to remember for them both.

He doesn’t think Magnus will ever read them, but he’s not doing this for Magnus. He’s doing this for himself. One last indulgence, since he’s no longer good for anything else.

A drop falls on the top letter, turning the paper darker. Alec jumps and realizes it’s sweat falling down from his hairline. He puts down today’s letter, carefully tucking it in to make a tidy stack, and closes the drawer, his hands trembling a little. His fever is spiking again. In a few hours, he’ll be delirious and out of his mind.

Jace says he cries out for Magnus, in the worst moments. Alec has stopped letting anyone else into his Soundless-rune proofed room. It’s getting worse. It used to happen every few days, but recently, he hardly ever goes a night without losing himself to the venom in his body.

He’s slipping away.

He doesn’t want to die, if only for the pain he knows it will cause his family. But more and more, on days like today, he thinks it might be a relief.

Chapter Text

Magnus curses when he feels his wards being breached. It’s someone his magic registers as a friend, but it’s still nearly midnight and he was ready for bed. He’s spent fewer nights at Pandemonium recently, discovering that he’s not in the mood for dancing and hooking up with strangers.

He’s trying to breeze through life like he’s always pretended to do, but there’s something missing. He doesn’t know what. It’s like there’s a hole in his life whose shape he can’t quite make out.

Or can he? His dreams have been filled with bows and arrows lately. And Shadowhunters. He glances at the box still on his nightstand, that he can’t seem to stop staring at every night, idly wondering what it contains.

With a wave of his hand, he changes his outfit for something more socially appropriate and unlocks the door of his loft. Which of his friends would have come at this hour, unannounced? It can only be an emergency.

“Magnus! Please, we need your help!”

It’s not a friend at all, it turns out – Magnus will have to figure out later why his wards would let any Shadowhunters through. It’s Jace Herondale, of all people. His voice is tense and scared. Magnus takes a few more steps into the living room to see him, and finds him and Isabelle carrying a barely conscious Alec between them. They’re followed by a fourth person, one that immediately makes Magnus’ blood boil. Maryse Lightwood.

Magnus entertains the thought of just throwing them out, briefly, but he can’t. He’s not the kind of person to refuse to help someone who needs it, even if that someone is a former enemy turned – whatever it is they are, after the Angel summoning the other week. And his eyes are undeniably drawn to Alec’s trembling form, as Jace and Isabelle lay him down on the couch.

He has a vague memory of another man on this couch, years ago – Luke, with Clary hovering and—

It slips away.

“What happened?” he asks.

“He was wounded by a Pervious demon a while ago,” Isabelle answers, nervously pulling at her hair as she turns away from her brother and looks at Magnus.

Magnus’ stomach drops. “There’s no cure for that,” he says. “ Their venom spreads through the body until it’s destroyed all of the organs.”

“We know, but Catarina said… She slowed it down, he was supposed to have more time. But he’s been like this for three days, and we can’t reach her.”

“Catarina Loss healed him?” Magnus frowns. “Why—”

“She’s Alec’s friend,” Jace says coolly.

Magnus files that away for later, coming closer to Alec to take a good look at him. He doesn’t look good. His face is pale, bordering on gray-toned, and he’s sweating profusely. He’s restless, in the throes of a high fever. “She’s held up at the Spiral Labyrinth,” Magnus says. “I’m not a healer.”

“We didn’t know who else to go to,” Isabelle breathes.

Magnus runs his hand over Alec’s body, letting his magic confirm that the venom has spread through his nervous system, and his organs are failing. Magnus swallows. There’s nothing left to save. It’s too late.

Unless…

He eyes the prominent rune on Alec’s neck, then Jace, with his pure angel blood. The power Magnus recently inherited is the power of a fallen angel. Here on the Earth plane…

There are very few limits to what it could do. Magnus isn’t used to the idea yet, and he’s more than a little scared of what it means, what it would be like in the wrong hands, but it’s a truth he will have to face.

Maybe Alec is already too far gone, but if there’s anything in the world that could help him now, it’s Asmodeus’ power. And if it gives Magnus a little more time to understand why his throat knots up and his eyes tear up at the thought of Alec dying, then it’s for the best.

“I can’t promise anything, but I will try to help,” he says slowly, stepping back. “He’s very ill, and it’s probably too late already, but maybe I can...give you some more time, at least.”

He doesn’t have to like the Lightwoods for the sliver of hope mixed with despair on their face to be heartbreaking. Isabelle immediately thanks him. Jace takes Alec’s hand in his own like it’s a lifeline. They’re not ready to let their brother go.

And Maryse… She looks vulnerable, more than Magnus has ever seen her before. This isn’t the high-and-mighty Shadowhunter who once stood opposite him on a battlefield. Her neck is strangely bare of runes, and she looks small, defeated.

But she’s still Maryse Lightwood.

“I don’t want this woman in my apartment,” Magnus points at her.

Maryse straightens up a little. “Magnus, I know we have history, but he’s my son.”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Isabelle gently takes her arm. “You need to go take care of Max. We’ll take care of Alec. It will be okay.”

Maryse hesitates, her pleading look going from Isabelle to Alec on the couch, and finally to Magnus. Magnus gives her a hard stare back.

“Okay,” she murmurs. She takes a step forward, and Magnus stops her with a raised hand. “Magnus—” she starts.

“That’s Warlock Bane for you,” Magnus growls.

Maryse flinches, despite Isabelle’s hand still on her arm. “Warlock Bane,” she corrects herself , her voice almost breaking on the last word . “Please let me say goodbye to my son.”

Magnus hesitates, his skin crawling at letting someone like Maryse Lightwood into his lair, but he relents. He knows too well the pain of loss, and the loss of a child must be… Even he can feel some compassion for her.

She kneels down by Alec’s side and brushes his hair off his sweaty brow. “Alec.”

Alec stirs a little in his delirium, half-opening his eyes. “Mom?”

“I love you,” Maryse murmurs, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

She stands back up, staring down at him with her back to Magnus and her other children for a moment. When she turns around, there are tears running down her face. “I know my pleading won’t mean much to you,” she tells Magnus, her voice raw. “But please save my boy.”

“I will do my best,” Magnus promises. “But I won’t do it for you.”

Maryse nods and flees the room, only stopping to squeeze her children’s hands. Even with the door closed behind her, there’s no mistaking the sound of her sobs, and Magnus swallows bile.

“No Robert?” he asks.

Jace makes a pained grimace. Isabelle looks away, tears in her eyes, and Magnus can see that he touched a sore point.

“He died five months ago,” Jace says. “In Alicante, at the same time as Alec got hurt.”

M agnus just nods and kneels by Alec, who turns half-lidded eyes to him. “Ma’nus,” he murmurs. There’s a desperate relief in his eyes, and he seeks out Magnus’ hand, Magnus only hesitates minutely before he squeezes Alec’s hand in his.

“Tell me more about what happened,” he says.

“He was poisoned through a deep cut in his side,” Jace says, not letting go of Alec’s other hand. It makes their positions awkward, so Jace moves to the side of the couch, at Alec’s head. “It spread rapidly, but we got him to the hospital just in time. Thankfully Catarina was there and she slowed its progression. She did some kind of ritual to keep it contained, but she said it would keep leaking until—” he chokes on his words, making a helpless gesture with his free hand. From up close, he looks terrible. He has dark circles under his eyes, and a slight sheen to his brow that tells Magnus that he’s probably running a low fever himself.

“He’s been having bouts of fever,” Isabelle takes over, standing behind Jace. “He’s in a lot of pain, but it’s hard to tell if it’s only from the venom, because his hip is bad too.”

“And the fever hasn’t come down?”

“Not in a little over three days. Catarina gave him a year, but I think the angel summoning made it go faster. That’s when he really started to get worse.”

M agnus nods and slips his hand out of Alec’s . He gathers a magical probe into his hand and runs it over Alec’s body once more, deeper this time.

“If we leave him like this, I’m not sure he’ll make it through the night,” he murmurs, standing back up. “I don’t know if I can do anything more than contain the venom again, and even if I manage it, there a chance that his organs won’t be able to take the shock,” he warns.

“Do it,” Jace says. “We’ve got nothing to lose.”

“It will be extremely painful for him. And there’s no guarantee that it will help.”

“Please, Magnus,” Isabelle says. “We’ll pay anything you want.”

“It’s not about the money, not when it comes to saving a life,” Magnus shakes his head. “Though I’ll be sure to send my bill. But you need to be certain that this isn’t just prolonging his suffering. That this is what he would want. I don’t think he’s lucid enough to make the decision himself.”

Isabelle nods to Jace, still prostrate over Alec’s trembling body. “Jace is his parabatai,” she murmurs . “Their souls are connected, and Jace already lost Clary. I fear i f we lose Alec , we’ll lose them both.” She swallows a sob. “ Please just try.”

“Alright,” Magnus nods.

H e kneels by the couch again and takes a moment to center himself. He can’t afford for his father’s magic – his magic, now – to spin out of control. Magnus has been testing it, step by step, but he knows he’s not ready for such a large expenditure. It could go horribly wrong.

He doesn’t think he could get Jace and Isabelle away if he tried, whatever the risks. He’ll just have to make sure that if he destroys something, it’s only furniture.

He focuses on his magical core for a while, doing what he can to prepare himself. When he opens his eyes, neither Isabelle nor Jace have moved.

“I’m going to need your strength,” Magnus tells Jace on a hunch. It’s not strictly true, but Jace’s connection to Alec could make things smoother, and serve as an anchor. And it will give Jace something to do other than wait and pace. “Isabelle, you better make yourself comfortable. It’s going to take a while.”

Isabelle bends down to stroke Alec’s cheek, her lips moving as if she’s praying. “Hang on, big brother,” she murmurs. “Just a little longer.”

Alec is too far gone to even acknowledge her. He’s shaking violently, his teeth chattering despite the fact that his skin is far too hot to the touch. He lets out low moans of pain every few moments, curling in on himself further.

Jace offers Magnus his hand, palm wide open. Magnus nods at him gravely and takes it, placing his other hand on Alec’s chest. Isabelle steps back, curling up in one of the armchairs to wait.

“Let’s do this,” Magnus murmurs to himself.

He doesn’t draw strength from Jace right away. He starts slow, searching for the edges of Alec, of the spread of the venom inside him. It’s a magical venom, coursing through his nervous system rather than his blood, and it’s everywhere. For the first few minutes, Magnus can barely find where it ends and where Alec begins.

He pushes it back, slowly. He prods at the magical signature of the demon and pushes until it recoils away from him. Alec’s body arches on the couch, and he cries out, while Jace lets out a groan of pain. Magnus barely lets them recover before he pushes again.

It’s a long process. Alec’s whole body is overrun by the venom, and Magnus is honestly impressed that he’s held on for so long. He should be dead already, by all rights. Magnus wonders if he hung on by pure willpower and if so, why. Was he thinking of Jace, of Isabelle in his fever? Of his mother?

Of someone else?

Magnus feels himself sagging. The process of cleaning up every inch of Alec’s body is exhausting, and his own physical body is feeling the strain. He struggles to keep himself up and leans on Alec’s body, until he feels a strong physical presence anchoring him. Jace.

“Take my strength,” Jace urges.

“Thank you,” Magnus murmurs, drawing some energy from Jace to keep his head up. He opens his eyes briefly. Jace has moved to kneel behind him and support him, though he still has one hand on Alec. He has tears of pain running down his cheeks, but his expression is steely, determined.

Magnus’ magic is far from depleted, the expenditure barely making a dent – once, it would have been the end of his reserves – but his body is still half-human. The magic that courses through him, using him as a vessel, takes a toll.

Magnus leans back against Jace, allowing himself one deep breath before he goes at it again. But this time, it feels different. Jace’s strength leads him in, connected to Alec in a deeper way than Magnus anticipated. He knows little about the parabatai bond. It’s a soul bond, but it has a physical component, Magnus can feel it.

Of course – the rune. The runes all over Alec’s body. Magnus can use them. He can wield angelic power, so he can use the runes to strengthen Alec’s body as he works.

“Isabelle,” he calls.

Isabelle is kneeling at his side in a fraction of a second. “What can I do?”

“Activate his healing rune. As many times as you can.”

“It will be stronger if Jace does it,” Isabelle says.

Magnus focuses on Jace briefly. The pull on his energy is clearly making him lethargic, and he blinks like he’s struggling to follow their words. “Then help him,” he tells Isabelle.

He tunes them out as Isabelle puts a stele in Jace’s hand and uncovers Alec’s stomach. He can feel the healing rune – iratze, was it? – working as soon as it’s activated, sending a pulse of magic through Alec’s body. Magnus rides on its wave, going in deeper.

He’s fairly sure it takes hours before he can actually reach Alec. His soul, the part of him that’s still trying to fight back.

Alec’s angelic core is weak, too weak. It’s barely pulsing. Magnus tightens his hand on Jace’s and follows the parabatai bond straight into Alec’s soul. Unlike any mundane venom, the demon venom has its claws there, too, ripping it bit by bit until there’s nothing left. Magnus isn’t sure that there is still time to save it. And while Alec’s body will die if the venom reaches his heart, a crisis that Magnus has at least averted for now, Alec’s soul is just as necessary for his survival.

Magnus begins the tedious and taxing work of removing the venom. He coils himself tightly around Jace’s part of the soul, that’s still open and untainted. That’s what Alec is protecting so hard, Magnus thinks. His brother. The rest of Alec’s soul is wispy, barely there.

Alec trembles all the way, muttering unintelligibly. His face is scrunched up in pain, and Magnus can feel the tension in his body.

Magnus hacks away at the venom tendrils. The first time his magic fully touches Alec’s soul, the part that’s only him, he’s almost ejected out in surprise. Maybe partly fusing with Jace is what takes him this far. He sees flashes – memories.

It’s just Alec and Jace, at first. Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee. The foundation of their soul bond. Magnus sees them as teenagers, taking the oath to always be there for each other. Then again as adults, Jace murmuring the words over a feverish, ill Alec – is that recent? Magnus glimpses other people, but the memory only lasts a second in his mind. It’s not his to keep.

Magnus frees Alec’s soul from another trail of venom. Isabelle jumps out at him, hugging her brother tight, training with him, sleeping in his bed at night, curled up against him. Alec’s love for her is self-evident, permeating every moment of the memories.

Magnus wants to pull out. These memories aren’t for him to peek at. He’s a skilled mind traveler, and he’s even dabbled in mnemopsionics, but he knows how dangerous this branch of magic is. Who knows where Clary would be now if Magnus had never messed with her mind?

Besides, that’s not what he’s here for. He just needs to focus on the venom.

But Alec’s soul doesn’t let him. Magnus pulls harder at the venom tendrils, with a desperation born out of exhaustion, and finds himself yanked back inside Alec’s mind.

He’s in Pandemonium, staring across the room at an Alec with a bow in his hand .

He’s in his loft and standing over a pentagram, an electric jolt going through his body as he links hands with Alec .

He’s kneeling in his living room, pulling energy from the hand in his, stumbling back against Alec’s lean and muscular body, exhausted.

He’s holding up his glass and toasting with Alec, whispering words, flirting.

He’s watching Alec train, shirtless, swallowing back his desire and trying to find the words to say how much he wants him.

He’s standing in a corridor, hurt and heartbroken, Alec turning his back on him.

He’s storming into a wedding, and Alec is striding toward him, kissing him—

No.

Back up.

Just like that, he’s back into his own body. The shockwave sends him backwards against Jace, who only avoids hitting his head on the edge of the coffee table thanks to his Shadowhunter reflexes. Magnus breathes hard under Isabelle’s concerned gaze, as she hands him a glass of water.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m almost there.”

But he can’t go back in there. What were those memories? Memories of him in Alec’s mind, and his love, his deep, untouchable love that’s not supposed to be there because there are no matching memories in Magnus’ mind. When did this happen?

Magnus’ thoughts stray toward the box on his nightstand. Memories. Memories he’s erased, that are still in other people’s minds. Jace and Isabelle’s familiarity with him, Alec’s—

He erased them for a reason, he reminds himself. But his heart tells a different story. It yearns for Alec so much it hurts.

“Can you save him?” Isabelle asks quietly.

Magnus swallows several times, the water failing to erase the taste of bile. “I’ve almost contained the venom,” he explains. “But that won’t save him. It will give him another few months , maybe, until he’s back in the same place.”

Isabelle hangs her head, and Magnus’ heart constricts even more. He can’t let Alec die. Not now, not in a year. If it’s in his power to save him…

It might be. No one has ever been cured of Pervious poisoning before, but there’s a first for everything.

“I’m going to try to overwhelm the venom with my magic,” he says. “But it’s going to be dangerous. It could kill us both, and you with us. You should get out, come back when I’m done.”

Isabelle and Jace visibly hesitate. “Are you sure?” Jace asks. He’s still weak, swaying a little where he kneels. Magnus doesn’t feel much better.

“At the very least, Alec wouldn’t want you to risk your life needlessly. Go. I’ll call you as soon as it’s done.” If it goes well, is the unspoken subtext.

“Alright,” Jace murmurs.

Isabelle supports him as he stands up. They both touch Alec lightly before they turn away and leave.

Magnus observes Alec for a moment. He looks better. He’s still sweaty and feverish, but his skin has lost the gray undertone, and it’s flushed instead. Magnus takes his clammy hand in his own.

So Alec was, as he was starting to suspect, the lover Magnus erased from his memories. The one who broke his heart so badly that Magnus couldn’t stand to remember it.

What is he supposed to do now? Now that he knows? He can pretend that he doesn’t know, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. He knows how it started, but not how it ended. What could have been so awful that Magnus chose to erase all trace of him from his life?

Or did he fall in love so deeply that the breakup itself, the simple thought of living without Alec, was unthinkable?

There’s only one thing clear in his mind: he needs to save Alec. He can’t stand the thought of him dying.

Magnus hangs on to that thought as he throws himself into Alec’s core again, ripping apart the contained venom with all his power. He breezes past his former limits, where he would once have collapsed from magical depletion, and keeps going, deeper and deeper. The venom is not sentient, but it resists all the same, deeply entrenched into Alec’s body and core. It’s woven in with his angelic magic, where no demon energy should ever reach. It won’t just leave. It can’t.

Magnus gathers his magic into his fingertips, now resting on each side of Alec’s neck, and pushes . It’s the strongest magic he’s ever yielded, the full force of his father’s fallen ang el magic. It sweeps into Alec, and for a moment, Magnus is afraid that it will overwhelm not just the venomous energy but also Alec’s core. But it doesn’t. Instead, it coils around Alec like a cat, filling the wounds left behind by the venom.

A lec’s mouth opens in a silent scream, and he seizes, his body arching and his head hitting the arm rest of the couch repeatedly. But the venom has finally released its hold.

M agnus collapses against Alec, spent. He uses the last of his energy to check that Alec is breathing properly and to text Isabelle to come back, then he lets himself slide down to the floor.

H is work is done.

*

Magnus comes to with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his shoulders. He’s still lying between the coffee table and the couch, the rug barely providing a buffer between his body and the hard wood floor, but someone’s been here to take care of him.

“We didn’t know if we should move you,” comes a voice.

Magnus hoists himself up onto his elbow, with some effort. Isabelle is sitting in one of the armchairs on the other side of the coffee table, looking at him curiously.

“How long has it been?” he asks. He sits up fully, finding himself face to face with Alec, who is still sleeping – unconscious? – on the couch.

“About two hours since you texted me,” Isabelle answers. “We tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t move. Alec seemed better, so we decided to wait.”

Magnus doesn’t try to check on Alec magically – he probably couldn’t light a fire right now if he wanted to. “The venom is all gone,” he says. “He’s probably going to need a lot of rest for a while as his body recovers, but he’ll live.”

Isabelle gapes at him. Her face morphs into a slow smile as she processes it. “Magnus, that’s incredible! You did it! Jace! Alec is going to be okay!”

She plops down from her armchair and crawls around the table to hug Magnus, who is too stunned to stop her. “Thank you,” she whispers in his ear. “Thank you so much.”

“You fixed him?” Jace asks, coming from the kitchen. He has a tea pot in one hand and a bunch of mugs in the other.

Magnus nods in confirmation. Jace calmly puts down what he has in his hands on the coffee table before he lets himself drop onto an armchair, staring at Alec, almost in shock.

“Thank the Angel,” he murmurs, tears welling up in his eyes in relief.

“In this case, thank the demon,” Magnus says as Isabelle helps him up and into the other armchair. She sits down on the corner of the table.

“You used Asmodeus’ power, didn’t you?” Isabelle asks. “Your father.”

Magnus starts. “How do you know he’s my father?” He doesn’t tell that to just anyone. In fact, the only people who know have been his friends for a long time. How does a Shadowhunter—

“You told me yourself, Magnus,” Isabelle sighs. “A few months after you told Alec.”

Magnus closes his eyes. If she’s telling the truth, then whatever memories are in the box are worse than he thought.

Or maybe they’re exactly what he thinks they are, and he just doesn’t want to admit it to himself. The heartbreak would have had to be agony for him to decide to erase his memories. Camille-level of agony. No, worse: he never erased Camille from his memories.

And Alec was at the center of it. Was he abusive? Did he hurt Magnus so badly that remembering it was unbearable?

Magnus looks at him, vulnerable in his sleep, his face still lined with pain. It seems impossible. But it happened. It must have.

Magnus shakes the thought out of his head. “Yes, I used my father’s power. I inherited it when he died.”

Jace nods. “We saw it happen,” he says in a low voice. “We didn’t know then that you’d—erased your memories.”

“You saw it?” Magnus frowns. “Tell me what happened in Alicante.”

He knew – he felt – that a major magical event happened in Alicante that day, that coincided with his father’s death, but no one has been able to tell him what, exactly. Idris is closed to Downworlder, and even the Spiral Labyrinth researchers aren’t good enough to see through its wards.

“Jonathan – that’s Valentine’s son – opened a rift into Edom, just over Alicante,” Isabelle starts. “The sheer number of demons overrode the demon towers quickly and we couldn’t do anything. There were too many to fight off. Then Lilith came through.”

“Lilith,” Magnus murmurs to himself.

“We thought it was over,” Isabelle says. “We saw Dad go down trying to protect Max. Our little brother,” she explains at Magnus’ confusion, with another of her sad looks. “He’s okay, he got to us eventually, but Dad—” she makes an aborted gesture, swallowing. “Lilith was ready to destroy everything, but she was stopped.”

“By Asmodeus,” Magnus breathes, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his head. “They’ve been rivals for forever. He was already on this plane... Of course he would see it as an occasion to finally get rid of her.”

“Yes,” Isabelle confirms. “They fought over Alicante for a while. It was...terrifying. We were just running for cover as they destroyed building after building, and it was still swarming with lesser demons. Alec must have gotten bitten at some point, but we didn’t realize it.”

“How did it end?” Magnus asks.

“They obliterated each other,” Isabelle says. “When their powers met on this plane, it didn’t just kill them and send them back to Edom, it made them stop existing entirely. And since your father was King of Edom and it was tied to him somehow, it imploded in the process. The blast took out a whole chunk of Alicante and killed everything in its path.”

“How did you make it out?”

“Clary,” Isabelle says. “She has—she had a special ability thanks to her angel blood, she could create new runes. She made up a shield rune so powerful that it protected all of us. But Alec was weakening and he was a bit too slow to get to cover. He wasn’t entirely behind the shield and his leg was shattered. It’s more than what iratzes and Catarina’s magic could heal.”

M agnus nods. “I saw he was struggling to walk. That requires delicate healing rather than brute force magical strength, so I’m afraid I can’t help with that. If Catarina couldn’t do anything, I won’t be of any use.”

“You did so much already,” Isabelle shakes her head. “You saved his life. We thought—” her voice breaks.

Magnus reaches out to squeeze her arm. “The last few months must have been hell for all of you,” he says sympathetically.

“You have no idea,” Jace mutters. There’s more than a little resentment in his voice, but Magnus chooses to ignore it.

“Ma’nus?”

Magnus starts and looks over at Alec, who is stirring, weakly searching around with his hand. His breathing has picked up, and he’s frowning in pain. Isabelle, who is the closest, gives Magnus a look and catches Alec’s hand in her own. “Alec, it’s Izzy. Open your eyes for me.”

Alec seems to struggle for a moment, then his eyes open a fraction. He looks around the room blearily, settling first on Isabelle, then on Jace, and finally on Magnus. “Ma’nus,” he repeats, the word slurred but unmistakable.

Magnus makes an aborted move to stand up, but Jace stops him with a glare. “Don’t give him hope he doesn’t need,” he says through his teeth. Magnus swallows and relents with a gesture.

Isabelle looks torn, and she bites her lip as she turns back to Alec. “We’re all here,” she says. “Magnus healed you. Now I need you to wake up properly so we can celebrate.”

Alec chuckles, though he’s obviously confused. “’kay,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes again and his breathing evens out, though the lines of pain remain on his face.

“The pain will fade with time,” Magnus says, trying to reassure the Shadowhunters. “At least the one from the venom,” he adds, remembering Alec’s other injuries.

“We’ll get back to the Institute as soon as he’s awake enough to move,” Jace says. “We’re truly grateful, Magnus, but we won’t take any more of your time.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I’m not throwing you out.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think staying here is good for Alec. We only brought him here because we were out of options.”

“And I’m glad you did,” Magnus says.

“But we can’t stay. He’s...vulnerable, right now.”

“You think I’d take advantage of him?”

Isabelle winces. Jace sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No offense, Magnus, but you made your choice. Maybe it was to protect yourself, but we need to do our job and protect Alec. And right now that means keeping him away from here. From you.”

Magnus stands up forcefully , overwhelmed by the need to go . To be alone with his thoughts long enough to figure this out. He hasn’t processed the things he saw in Alec’s mind, or the feelings that keep arising in him every time he looks at Alec. He doesn’t know what to do with the near-hostile guardedness in Jace’s posture, the sorrow in Isabelle’s eyes. He doesn’t know what he did – or didn’t do – to deserve them, only that they know more than him about his own life, and his entire being is screaming that it’s not safe .

He flees to the kitchen, where he spends several minutes riding out a near panic attack.

What is he going to do now? Now that he knows something of the memories he’s missing, something more than whatever his mind could conjure to fill the holes and the little Catarina deigned to tell him, how can he go back to normal? He was doing just fine, before these damn Shadowhunters barged into life!

No, that’s not true. Magnus may be an expert at deceiving other people, but he doesn’t lie to himself. Or at least he didn’t use to – he feels like he’s been doing it a lot, recently. He’s not doing well. He’s going through the motions, but nothing in his life feels complete, feels right . He knows what depression looks like.

Can he pretend that he doesn’t crave whatever memories are in that box? The brain isn’t made t o suddenly lose a part of itself like this. The neural pathways that have ruled Magnus’ emotions for however many years he erased a re still here, and he doesn’t know how to fulfill them anymore. He’s physically and mentally craving something that isn’t there.

Maybe that’s why the glimpses he got from Alec’s mind have left him shaking and yearning .

Yes. It’s all a physical reaction from his brain. It’s an addiction. He just needs to treat it like any other addiction: wean himself off. Stay away.

That means staying away from Alec. At least he can agree with Jace on that. However much it will hurt, Magnus needs to remove himself from this situation.

When he walks back into the living room, hiding his trembling hands behind his back, Alec is awake and mostly alert. He’s sat up partially on the couch, propped up on the arm rest, and Isabelle is quietly talking to him. The tea has finally been served, and the three siblings are each holding a steaming mug, a fourth one awaiting Magnus on the table.

“Magnus,” Alec says when Magnus gingerly sits back down in his armchair. His voice is stronger than before, and his tone is no longer hopeful and confused, but pained. “Thank you, for saving my life. We owe you a debt beyond what we could pay you in money.”

Magnus takes his mug in his hand, trying to draw comfort from the warmth. “You don’t,” he says. “I was glad to help. And…I don’t know exactly what we...what happened between us that I’m missing, but it would be better for everyone not to keep score, wouldn’t it?”

Isabelle chokes on her tea. Alec just looks infinitely sad. “Okay,” he murmurs. “ Whatever you want, Magnus.”

“Drink your tea,” Magnus says, feeling guilty for no reason he can understand. “Then I’ll make you a portal to your Institute.”

Alec nods. “Thank you.”

Playfully, Magnus leans over the coffee table to clink his mug with Alec. Alec meets his eyes and swallows . “To us,” he murmurs.

Magnus tilts his head, the words echoing strangely in his mind. “To us,” he repeats.

Alec looks away, letting out a small wounded sound. Magnus retreats, trying to give him space. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, but it obviously has to do with the memories he’s missing. Besides, he promised himself to detach himself, and he’s already getting too close again.

They sip their tea in silence, until Alec gives some kind of invisible signal and Jace hoists him to his feet. Magnus doesn’t say a word, a knot in his throat, as he throws open a portal and stands aside to let them through.

He already feels bereft, before the portal is even closed.

Chapter Text

Alec lowers his center of gravity, wincing when it pulls on his hip, and turns to face the petite form of Helen Blackthorn. She looks back at h im steadily, taping the wrapper around her wrist in place.

She was transferred with him from the overflowing Alicante hospital to the New York infirmary after the battle, along with many other wounded Shadowhunters — Catarina probably save d hundreds of people single-handedly that week. Helen stayed in New York to recover and they became good friends, helped along by Aline who, as Alec discovered, followed where ver Helen went. She’d managed to get her mother to assign her as permanent Clave liaison to the New York Institute.

“Ready?” Alec asks.

Helen just nods and slips into a fighting stance. They’ve been training together as she learns to adapt to the loss of her lower left leg. Now eight months in, she’s already back at the level of most fifteen-year-old Shadowhunters, thanks to Izzy’s creative rune work on her prosthesis and her own stubbornness. She’ll be ready for the field soon. Alec sometimes feels pangs of jealousy as he struggles to keep up, knowing that his shattered hip will never let him get back to where he was before.

“I’m slowing you down,” he says as he picks himself up from where she just threw him on the floor. “I should assign you to train with someone else. Maybe Izzy? She’ll understand the readaptation process.”

H elen offers him a hand to stand back up. “You’re not slowing me down,” she says, shaking her head . “Sure, maybe I could keep pace with Izzy, but I think you underestimate the value of what we’re learning together. Being aware at all time s of what the other is feeling, what our bodies are telling us. It’s like...parabatai training, but without the rune. I don’t want to stop training with you.”

Alec blinks in surprise. “I hadn’t really thought about it that way,” he says.

“I don’t have a parabatai,” Helen says. “I dreamed about it as a kid, but I figured out pretty quickly that no one would want to be bound to a half-Seelie. But I wanted to know someone so well that I could tell how they were doing at all time and be known in return.”

“It’s not exactly like that,” Alec says, rubbing at his parabatai rune. He hasn’t opened the bond in months, and yet he knows that Jace still feels the pain that leaks through. There’s so much pain, now, for both of them.

It’s a strange kind of irony, that they would both lose their lovers to amnesia, only weeks apart. Clary still remembers nothing, going about her mundane life, and Alec knows that Jace spends too much time watching over her. Alec avoids Magnus, now. It’s not hard, since Lorenzo Rey is still the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Magnus hasn’t tried to contact him since he healed him.

C lary was forced to leave their world, and Jace hangs onto the hope the angel they summoned gave him, that she will be forgiven eventually.

Magnus made his own choice. Or rather, both Magnus and Alec made choices that led them her e – separated and alone . There’s no going back.

“Being parabatai… We feel each other, but that doesn’t mean we know each other”, Alec says. “Jace didn’t know I was gay for the longest time. The bound was made for battle, to make parabatai the best warriors.”

Helen nods. “I’ll never have a parabatai, but I like training with you. I don’t want to stop.”

Alec opens his arms in surrender. “Fine, okay, I like training with you too. I’m getting a feel for your style, finally. And you’re starting to really take advantage of the way your body moves.”

“Seelie flexibility,” Helen winks. “You should try sparring with a full Seelie.”

“Yeah, well, right now I need a break,” Alec says, limping back to the bench at the front of the training room. “How are things with Aline?”

“She’s freaking out,” Helen laughs. “The wedding’s in two months and we’ve barely started planning. I don’t care, I’d elope to Vegas with her, but she wants it to be a symbol.”

“The first official Nephilim gay marriage,” Alec mutters. He swallows, looking down at his hands.

H e had all these dreams, once. He wanted to marry Magnus in front of the whole Clave, show the world that relationships like theirs could work. It would have been beautiful. The first gay, inter-species marriage recognized by the Clave.

Now he’ll have to leave those firsts to others. Helen and Aline. Izzy and Simon. Hell, at this pace, even Underhill and Lorenzo Rey. Alec will get to watch them and see through them everything he gave up.

Alec’s dreams went up in smoke the day he made that deal.

Helen lays a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Alec.”

Alec shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize that things are working out for you.”

“No, but I know how you miss Magnus.”

“I was going to propose to him, you know?” Alec sighs. “I had all these dreams about our wedding. And then I broke up with him the next day.”

They’ve talked about it, a lot. When Alec was in the hospital and his siblings had to handle the Institute, Helen was there with him. They have things in common that Jace and Izzy will always struggle to understand.

“You tried to help him,” Helen says.

“I broke his heart so badly that he couldn’t stand to remember our time together,” Alec murmurs. He nervously runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

Even now, there’s a knot in his throat so large that he can barely breathe. He hasn’t had a chance to heal. For five months, his whole life was reduced to the venom slowly overtaking his body, to the knowledge that he would not see the end of the year.

When he was dying, it was easier, in a way. He could tell himself that it would be better for Magnus not to remember. He could tell himself that his own suffering would soon be over, anyway.

Now he has to learn how to live without Magnus.

“Alec,” Helen says slowly, after a long pause during which she supports him silently, a hand on his arm. “I would understand if it’s too hard for you, but I want to ask you to be my suggenes.”

Alec chokes on his breath and coughs. “ Me?”

“Yes. You’ve been...you’ve been my best friend, these last few months. I don’t know how I could have made it through all this without you. And...it seems like a good way to show that we’re both still standing. Together.”

A lec swallows and opens his arms to hug her. “Of course I’ll do it,” he says in her ear. “ Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Helen says, hugging him tightly.

J ust as they pull apart, all hell breaks loose. They hear a commotion coming from the outside, at the back entrance just below the training room, people shouting like there’s a fight going on. Helen jumps to her feet and Alec follows as quickly as he can, grabbing his cane. He takes his bow and quiver from the weapons rack as he goes.

Two Shadowhunters are fighting by the elevator against three people clad in all black, including ski masks, wielding swords. Seraph blades. The intruders are also Shadowhunters. By the time Alec makes it there, Helen has joined the fray, making the match more even.

Alec lets his cane clatter to the floor and nocks an arrow. The closest intruder, the one now fighting Helen, is an easy target, and Alec shoots him in the shoulder, trying to incapacitate rather than kill him. The arrow flies a bit to the side and almost misses, but it gives Helen the time she needs to bring her opponent to the floor.

Underhill is already sitting on his own opponent, roughly pulling his arms behind his back. Alec concentrates on the third man, who is fighting an unarmed Jens. Jens is Alec’s second-in-command who handles the administrative life of the Institute, and he’s an older Shadowhunter who hasn’t been in the field in years. Against a well-trained opponent armed with a sword, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Alec’s shot flies wide. Jens’ opponent throws him to the floor and turns to Alec, rushing toward him blade first. Alec parries with his bow, but he’s quickly forced to let go of his bow and duck another blow. The blade glances off his shoulder, slicing through his shirt and his skin. Alec hisses and swipes at his opponent’s feet, making them both fall to the floor.

A lec cries out in pain as his hip gives out. His vision black around the edges, he struggles to get out from under the other Shadowhunter, who isn’t moving.

“Alec!” Helen calls from somewhere above him. Alec feels the dead weight of his opponent being lifted, and he scoots back hurriedly. Helen’s blade is protruding from the man’s back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alec says, though he doesn’t try to stand up. He tries to stop the flow of blood from his shoulder with his hand. “Thank you.”

Helen nods and digs her blade out of the body.

“Alec!” It’s Jace this time, who must have felt the pain. Alec can block the constant hum of pain from the bond, but not sudden bursts – that’s what the bond is for, after all, having each other’s back. Jace kneels in front of him.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Alec repeats. “Remove their masks,” he tells Helen. “We need to find out who they are. And how the hell they got in.”

Jace already has his stele out, and he hitches up Alec’s shirt to draw an iratze. It stems the flow of blood, but the wound is too deep to heal completely. That’s fine. Alec can deal with it.

(Magnus would have healed it with a swipe of his hand.)

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Jace says.

He guides Alec’s arm around his shoulders and hauls him up. Alec bites hard on his tongue as his hip seizes violently, and he hops on his good leg for a couple of steps. Jace gives him time to get his bearing. They’re good at this, by now. They’ve done this too many times.

A lec gives out orders all the way to the infirmary, even as he struggles to walk, and only reluctantly lets Izzy take over once she gets to the scene, after she’s fussed over him for a good five minutes. He lets one of the medics bandage his shoulder, as it doesn’t even need stitches after two iratzes.

O nce they leave him there, sitting on one of the beds as he waits for someone to bring him his cane, he groans in frustration and runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it.

“Alec, what’s wrong?” Jace asks. Damn. Alec thought he’d left. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Alec shakes his head. His injuries are minor, something he’d usually shake off and go on like nothing happened. But unknown Shadowhunters somehow got into his Institute and attacked his people. “I missed,” he says.

“What?”

“I shot at him, and I missed. And my first shot was way off the mark. I’m not good for anything anymore.”

“You’ve missed hundreds of times,” Jace says. “You’re the one who keeps telling me that. In the middle of the battle, more arrows miss than reach their target. Things move too fast.”

“He wasn’t moving fast,” Alec protests. “I had a decent shot. But my balance was wrong. I shouldn’t have missed.”

Jace sighs. “You’re not back to a hundred percent yet. That’s okay.”

“I’m never going to be, Jace!” Alec snaps. “This,” he points down to his hip, “isn’t going to heal anymore than it already has. I’ll never go back to the field. I’m useless as a Shadowhunter.”

He’s useless, period. He hasn’t had his head in the game in month. Since Alicante. Since Magnus. He’s lucky that nothing major happened to the Institute since Jonathan’s death because he’d probably have messed up everything.

“So you’ll focus on the political stuff. You’re good at that. Practically no other Head does fieldwork anyway, especially in an Institute as large as this one.”

Alec shakes his head. The political stuff, as Jace puts it, has largely consisted in arguing with the new Inquisitor – an old-school homophobic asshole named Goldstream – and desperately missing Magnus at every Downworld Cabinet meeting, unable to focus to the point that the Lorenzo Rey has been threatening to stop coming altogether.

“I can’t, Jace,” he says, hating the unsteadiness of his voice. “I can’t do it. I should step down, let Izzy take over. She’s got the head for it.”

“Alec, you’re the one who created the Downworld Cabinet. You’ve always been the best at this. I know you miss Magnus, I know you’re hurting, but don’t throw away your career.”

“I’m never going to have a career,” Alec sighs. “The whole Shadow World knows me as the Nephilim who fell for a warlock. Most Shadowhunters think I whored myself out and the Downworlders hate me for breaking Magnus’ heart. Not very conducive to good cooperation.”

J ace closes his eyes in dismay. “Alec—”

“Whatever,” Alec waves dismissively as Helen knocks on the door. “Let it go.”

He steps down from the bed. His hip is still more sore than usual, but it will hold. “Any word on who those Shadowhunters are?” he asks Helen.

“We’ve identified them,” she says. “They’re separatists. Not Circle members, but part of this fringe of Nephilim who think we should stop dealing with the Downworld altogether. They swear that the dead one was their leader, but they couldn’t have been working alone. The wards shouldn’t have let them through, for one.”

“After the mess with the Forsaken, Dad had Magnus update them to let in only authorized people, rather than all Shadowhunters,” Alec says. “If they weren’t on the list, they shouldn’t have been able to get inside. Either the wards are weakening for some reason, or they had help from a powerful warlock.”

“Someone more powerful than Magnus?” Jace asks. “There aren’t many.”

“Or someone who knows how he works,” Alec points out. He learned a lot about warlock magic, dating Magnus for over two years. He takes a deep breath. “We need to call him.”

Jace tilts his head. “Are you sure?”

It took Jace and Izzy a long time, after Magnus had healed Alec, to accept Alec’s decision to stay away. They still think they could have convince d Magnus to take his memories back.

Alec doesn’t even know if it’s possible. Magnus is nothing if not thorough. He might have erased the memories completely, just so he wouldn’t be tempted to take them back. To hurt like that again.

Unbidden, Alec thinks of the stack of letters in his desk. Sheets upon sheets of paper detailing each moment of their relationship, the good and the bad, everything Alec can remember. He hasn’t looked at them since he woke up in Magnus’ loft.

He needs to learn how to live without Magnus . It will hurt, maybe until the day he dies, but Alec will do it for his family, for this Institute, for whatever good he can still do.

“He’s the only one who will know how the wards went down. And we need him to pull them up again.”

Seeing Magnus, though… Alec is tempted to hide, to let Izzy or Jens handle it and pretend he’s occupied elsewhere. But he can’t do that. He’ll need to learn how to function around Magnus, too, as long as they live in the same city. Even if it feels like a hundred stab wounds to his heart every time Magnus’ eyes cross his.

There’s a terrible kind of comfort in knowing the pain will never end. Like any grief, it will fade with time, until it doesn’t feel like he’s dying every time he thinks about it, but it will never go away fully. Nephilim only love once.

Alec feels a surge of sympathy for Lydia, who stood with him at the altar and would have married him, with her heart in shambles like Alec feels right now. She hugged him tight, when she came to visit while he was in the hospital, and back then Alec didn’t fully comprehend that she understood him like no other.

B ut Magnus isn’t dead. Alec still has his number in his phone, their endless thread of loving text messages now another gaping wound. He doesn’t pull out his phone, and instead asks for some pen and paper. He sends Magnus a fire message, formal and distant, and stares after the vanishing flames.

“You gonna be okay?” Jace asks.

Alec nods. Helen squeezes his arm and hands him his cane. His injured arm is thankfully not his cane arm, and his hip seems to be holding up. He hobbles out of the infirmary and down to his office to start dealing with this mess.

*

M agnus doesn’t reply for several hours. Alec figures that he must be with a client, or maybe the Institute has simply dropped to the very bottom of his priorities and he won’t bother coming until tomorrow. But in the early evening, he gets a fire message back. I’m outside.

He painfully drags himself over to the Institute’s entrance. His hip has seized up again, and even mundane painkillers aren’t doing much to help.

Magnus is waiting at the bottom of the steps, his outfit sharp and almost too shiny – armor. Alec can recognize it easily, the way his make up is a bit too pronounced, the unnatural shine in his hair. That’s how he dresses when he’s unsure and scared.

A lec hates that he notices it all, when all Magnus probably sees about him is the cane. He waves at Magnus to come up the stairs – he doesn’t think he could walk down and back up if he tried – and lets him in. He summarizes the events while they walk into the ops center, keeping it business-only.

“Alexander,” Magnus stops him, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. Alec flinches back, because the name feels like a balm and a match to his heart at the same time. He doesn’t know what he’d do with Magnus actually touching him. “How are you doing?”

Alec frowns and leans away from him. “I’m fine,” he says. Right, Magnus wants to know if his healing stuck. “Free of venom and all recovered.”

Magnus’ eyes travel down to his cane. Alec swallows under his gaze. He keeps wondering how it might have been, to have Magnus beside him as he got used to this new reality – that he’s never going to go back to the field. Never going to walk unaided again, to run, to move without pain. He wonders what Magnus – his Magnus – would have said and done.

He doesn’t want to hear what this Magnus, this version of him that Alec doesn’t know, has to say about it. “ This has nothing to do with it,” he says curtly, gesturing at his leg. He turns away, waving at Izzy to come over. “Can you check the wards?”

“Of course,” Magnus says. “I will need some time to get through all the layers, if you want me to be thorough.”

Alec nods. “You can give me your bill along with your report when you’re done. I’ll see that it gets expedited. Thank you for coming so fast. Izzy, will you show him around?”

It’s hard, to remain all business like that, but it’s better than any alternative Alec can come up with. He watches Magnus walk away with Izzy and he can’t help noticing the little details, the way Magnus’ longer hair sits on his head, or his blue-painted nails. He aches to holds these hands in his own.

It’s been eight months, and the pain isn’t quite as fresh as the first day, but it’s not gone, either. He’s not at the point where he can fondly remember Magnus and not ache fiercely for what he has lost. The way he misses Magnus is visceral, and he can barely stand it some days, the way his insides feel twisted. He struggles to get up in the morning. He struggles to eat anything, and he knows he’s lost weight, even since his body is free of the demon venom. He sees himself gaunt in the mirror, and he can’t bring himself to care.

The worst is trying to sleep. Alec has never been a sound sleeper, but it’s gotten worse. In the year before their breakup, he and Magnus slept together every night, and any bed without him feels cold and empty. His nightmares feature the break up most nights, or the battle of Alicante, a mix of all the stress and trauma of the last few years – Angel knows he has enough bad memories to fill his nights.

But it’s the good dreams that Alec dreads. The ones where he’s in Magnus’ arms, all warm and soft. Because then he has to wake up to an empty bed and remember what he’s lost all over again.

“Sir?”

Alec starts and almost overbalances, catching himself on the corner of the ops table. “Sir, are you okay?” It’s Underhill, who is frowning in concern.

“I’m fine,” Alec grits through his teeth.

Underhill doesn’t argue . “This came for you from the Consul’s office,” he says, handing Alec an envelope. “I put the rest of your mail in your inbox, but this seemed important.”

Alec takes the envelope and quickly opens it, while Underhill politely takes a step back. He skims through the letter from Jia Penhallow, then frowns and reads it again, more carefully.

It’s a job offer. An entirely unexpected one.

Alec stares for a moment at the letter, a little stunned, then he slowly folds it back into the envelope. It doesn’t call for an immediate answer, and he has a lot to think about – not to mention urgent issues to fix, namely the intrusion, before he can even start to think about it.

“Put this on my desk, I’ll deal with it later,” he give it back to Underhill, who watches him curiously. “If anyone looks for me, I’ll be in the training room.”

“Sir, are you sure you should?” Underhill dares to ask, hesitant.

Alec just glares at him until he backs off. “I want detailed report on the interrogation of the intruders,” he says instead of answering. “Yesterday.”

He’s rarely this stern with his people, but he’s too tired and frustrated to police his tone. Underhill straightens and nods formally. “Yes, sir.”

A lec turns away and makes his way to the training room. He changes into sweats, careful of the new bandage on his arm, and takes out his bow and his quiver.

He tries not to think about Magnus being in the building. The attack on the Institute just showed him that he’s been resting on his laurels far too much in the last few months, since Clary killed Jonathan. They haven’t had any major threat, nothing beyond the usual demon nests sprinkled over the city and Downworlder/Mundane issues to settle, and Alec has lapsed in his duty. He hasn’t asked anyone to take care of the wards, or implanted the exercise routine he was working on before Alicante, before he broke up with Magnus. He’s let his personal life interfere with his duty.

Worse, his performance today was abysmal. Alec has had to adjust his expectations of himself a lot since his injury, but missing his shot like that… It shouldn’t have happened. If he can’t fight enough to defend himself, he has no business running an Institute. He’s a liability.

Jia’s letter comes to his mind again. If he’s to accept her offer...

He empties half his quiver into the fifty yard target. His arrows all hit the target, but some of them are nowhere near the bullseye. Alec groans and tries to focus, taking a painful step to align with the second target, at sixty yards.

In a practiced move, he nocks an arrow, ignoring the way his arm stings. He draws the string up to his chin and settles there, paying attention to his posture. His hip isn’t strong enough to take most of his weight anymore, and too stiff – he has to lean on his left leg, throwing his whole body off balance. He’s started to adjust to that, but his posture is still too unstable.

He lets the arrow go. It hits almost an inch off the bullseye, and Alec sighs in dismay. He empties the rest of his quiver, taking the time with each arrow to adjust his posture, and his aim gets progressively better, but still nowhere near his previous level.

Yet another thing he’ll have to get used to.

The walk up to the target to retrieve his arrows and back is painful and harrowing. Alec leans into the pain almost in spite of himself, letting the burn in his lungs and the throbbing of his hip feel like punishment.

After two repeats of this, he’s holding back tears of frustration and pain. His entire body is sore, his shoulders aching from the undue strain and his hip sending shooting pains down his leg and all the way up to his neck. He powers through until his aim is good enough to satisfy him, even temporarily, then stops caring and keeps shooting for the sake of shooting. He gets a second quiver of unruned arrows just so he won’t have to walk all the way to the targets again and shuts out the outside world, narrowing it to just the tip of his arrow and the target.

It’s easy. It feels good, even if he knows he’s abusing his body in a way he’s going to pay for. He can’t bring himself to care.

He’s almost forgotten that Magnus is even there when he’s interrupted mid-draw.

“Alexander! I’m all done.”

Alec’s arrow flies wide and he curses under his breath. What kind of archer is he if he gets distracted so easily?

“Magnus,” he says, lowering his bow but not looking at his—at him. “Did you find anything?”

“A warlock helped take down the wards, but I could not identify them,” Magnus answers. Alec squirms under his stare. He hates that he both wants nothing more than to be somewhere else and wants to hug Magnus and never let him go. “I pulled them back up and fortified them, so that a similar attack cannot happen again.”

“Thank you,” Alec says. “Is there really no way to know who it was? Wouldn’t they have to be more powerful than you to take down your wards?”

“Or know my patterns,” Magnus agrees. “But in this case, they exploited a flaw that was there because the wards hadn’t been updated in too long.”

Alec grimaces. It’s his fault. He knew the wards needed work, it’s been on his to-do list for months. He put it off because…

Because it required calling Magnus in.

He put the whole Institute in danger because he can’t keep his personal life separate.

“Do you need a little warlock TLC?” Magnus asks.

Alec looks up sharply, the flashback jarring. Magnus must take his shock for confusion, because he gestures to Alec’s arm. “Your sister told me that you were injured in the fight.”

“My sister should mind her own business,” Alec mutters, trying to hide the pit opening in his stomach.

“She was simply recounting the events, as it is,” Magnus defends her. Alec doubts that Izzy lost an occasion to meddle at least a little, but he doesn’t comment.

“I’m fine,” he says instead.

“You don’t look like you’re fine,” Magnus insists. His voice is gentle, though it lacks some of the warmth that Alec has come to associate with him, the familiarity that his heart is weeping for.

Alec stares for a moment, eyes riveted to Magnus’ lips, to the curve of his nose – everything but his eyes, too intense and soulful, unbearable. He’s about to turn him away with something scathing, but he almost wants to—

He wants to hug him, to feel safe like he never has outside of Magnus’ arm, to let go for the first time in months. He wants to cry his heart out and be held.

He wants Magnus.

“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs.

It’s a bad idea, and he knows it. He’s staying away from Magnus for a reason. He has to respect Magnus’ choice, especially now that Magnus doesn’t even remember making that choice. Anything else is abusing his trust.

But now that the word are out, Alec can’t stop. “It’s like...everything’s been turned upside down. I’m trying to run this Institute, and work with the Downworld Cabinet, and it’s everything that I dreamed of growing up and yet...I can’t do it, Magnus. I can’t be what they expect me to be. I can’t—I can’t live like this.” I can’t live without you.

“Alexander,” Magnus starts, but he trails off. He reaches out, and this time Alec lets him, leaning into his touch. It’s just a hand on his arm, light and unsure, but it feels—

Wrong. They can’t do this. Not now, not like that. Alec would give almost anything to go back in time, to fix this, to stop Magnus before he removed his memories, but – no, he wouldn’t . Magnus is happier with his magic and without his memories. What Alec feels doesn’t matter.

“I don’t know what to do,” he repeats brokenly.

“You can’t change things outside your control, but you can change your own life, Alexander,” Magnus says compassionately. “Do what’s in your heart.”

A lec makes a strangled sound and closes his eyes, stepping away from Magnus. “I can’t,” he chokes out.

He flees. As much as he can when he first has to put back his bow and get his cane. His arrows stay scattered on the targets, and he abandons them and Magnus, limping to his bedroom.

He hops into the shower, cursing at the time it takes him to undress and walk in. He runs water directly over his face and lets it hide the pouring tears. He collapses onto the recently installed shower seat, sobbing.

He can’t breathe. He swallows water and tears, choking, and hits his head hard on the shower wall . He hasn’t broken down like this since Magnus healed him of the venom – maybe since he was in the hospital in Alicante . Since the day Maryse quietly announced that Magnus didn’t remember any of them.

H e doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower, but when he finally calms down, there is no light coming from the tiny window in his bathroom and his hip is killing him. He narrowly avoid falling on his ass as he gets out, hopping on his good leg, his head swimming from exhaustion.

He goes through the motions of drying himself and pulling on clean sweat pants, groaning when his body refuses to bend. He hates how hard everything has become, even dressing himself. He re-bandages his arm and runs the towel over his face a few times, trying to erase the redness of his eyes to no avail.

When he comes out of his bathroom, Izzy and Jace are both sitting on his bed. Figures.

“Alec!” Izzy welcomes him with too much brightness for it to be genuine.

Alec doesn’t answer and collapses between his siblings. They scoot over until they’re all lying on the bed, with Alec in the middle. He slips his arm under Izzy’s head, relishing the pressure of her weight on him.

“Magnus was here,” Jace starts in a low voice. Alec wonders how long they’ve discussed what they’re going to tell him. He knows they’re worried. They’ve had a rough year. He wishes he could erase it all, make things easier for them. Erase the concern, the fears, the pain.

Erase himself from their lives.

Alec blinks against the thought and breathes through his mouth.

“Yeah,” he forces out, his voice hoarse.

“How did that go?”

Alec shrugs, his shoulder hitting Jace’s. The wound on his arm stings.

“He was concerned,” Izzy says. “I walked him out. He said you ran away.”

“He—” Alec trails off. He doesn’t know how to express it. “Seeing him, it’s hard. I’m not ready.”

Izzy sighs.

“Look, I know we’ve had this conversation a dozen times, but I still don’t get it,” Jace says. “Why don’t you just tell him everything? Asmodeus is dead. All of Edom is gone. Your deal doesn’t hold anymore.”

“You don’t know that,” Alec sighs, not in any mood to rehash this again with his siblings.

“Come on, that’s a bogus argument and you know it. You only broke up with Magnus because of the deal. Doesn’t he deserve to know that?”

Alec shakes his head. “I need – we need – to respect his decision.”

“But he wouldn’t have made it if he knew about the deal!” Jace exclaims.

“You don’t know that,” Alec repeats.

He doesn’t believe it, not completely. Things would have gone down differently, had Magnus known about the deal. But that’s exactly the issue: he didn’t. They don’t know what could have happened, and they can’t make decisions based on that.

“Alec,” Izzy starts quietly. “What’s the real reason why you won’t tell him?”

“He’s okay,” Alec says in a low tone, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“He’s happy. Or he will be. He has his magic back, and he can go on with his life. All I brought him was pain and heartbreak and danger.” Alec swallows. “Even if we’d managed to be happy together, it would have been just a few years, a blink in his lifespan, before more heartbreak. It’s better that way.”

“But what about you?” Izzy asks. She has that same look on her face, as the first time she asked him that. But she was sad and resigned, then. Now she’s...angry.

Alec shrugs. “I’ll survive,” he says.

“Bullshit,” Izzy says through her teeth. “Surviving isn’t enough, and you’re barely doing that.”

“You think we can’t see how badly you’re doing?” Jace asks, now just as angry. “You’re not sleeping, Alec. Not eating. I can feel your pain, twenty-four seven. You can’t go on like that.”

Alec closes his eyes. He’s just admitted the same thing to Magnus, but hearing it from Jace and Izzy, from the people in his life who actually know what’s happening…

“I have to,” he murmurs. “It will get better, eventually.”

He doesn’t believe it, even as he says it.

“Will it?” Izzy asks doubtfully.

Alec doesn’t answer and buries his face in his pillow.

Chapter Text

If there is one thing particularly troubling about missing memories, it’s having no context to understand your own actions. Magnus asked Catarina, early on, to summarize the things he’s forgotten that are relevant for his job and political position, and it was one of the most bizarre conversations of Magnus’ life.

It seems that an impressive number of things happened in the last three years that he felt the need to erase from his memories, and Magnus doesn’t understand how any of them came to pass. The most baffling to him is his apparent decision to ally with the Seelie Queen, of all people, which led him to losing his position as High Warlock of Brooklyn. He has vague memories of getting half the warlocks in the city to erect wards to keep in Valentine – and none of Valentine’s eventual demise, or how it all ended.

He remembers his annoyance toward Lorenzo Rey, but not how the irritating warlock handled his first year as Magnus’ replacement. And he definitely doesn’t remember whatever it is that made the warlock look at Magnus with the strange mixture of hatred and compassion that has characterized every one of their interactions in the past year.

Which is why, when he finds himself on the steps of the New York Institute for the second time in a month, charged to argue for his recently-arrested colleague, Magnus feels singularly out of his depth.

“I’m here to see Jace Herondale,” he says when the door opens. It seems safer to start there than to go straight to Alec, which is why Magnus texted Jace first.

Magnus hasn’t talked to Alec since Alec essentially ran out on him in the training room, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about the Shadowhunter. Alec’s body language last time was highly confusing, like he wanted to be close to Magnus and far away at the same time, and for the life of him, Magnus can’t figure him out.

It’s another thing hindered by his missing memories.

Magnus knows he’s obsessing over them. It’s not healthy. He removed them for a reason, and maybe he should have destroyed them fully, just to save himself the temptation. It’s very hard to keep yourself to a past decision when you can no longer understand what drove you to make it. He spends too much time staring at the box, day-dreaming at what is inside, when he should be scared of its contents.

“He’s waiting for you,” the blond Shadowhunter at the door says. He guides Magnus inside, into the large room buzzing with activity that Magnus has crossed a few times already. Their operation center. Magnus spots Jace and Isabelle on one side of the central table, talking with a pre-teen who already has runes apparent on his body. The three of them turn toward him at the same time.

“Magnus!” the boy shouts, running up to him. Magnus frowns, but he lets himself be manhandled into a hug.

Jace curses under his breath. “Max,” he calls. “Let him go. I told you, Magnus doesn’t—” He trails off, looking embarrassedly at Magnus, but Max steps away from Magnus. He bows his head and clasps his hands behind his back, in a miniature version of the pose Alec takes so often. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Isabelle puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Max. You should go get ready. You have a patrol tonight, remember?”

“It’s not fair,” the boy mutters. He looks up and glares at Magnus. “It’s not fair!”

“Max!” Isabelle snaps. “Go. Now.”

“Sorry about that,” Jace says as the boy runs out. “He’s our little brother.”

Magnus looks at them, seeing the sadness in their eyes that’s been present ever since he met them. This boy knows him. He knows Magnus well enough that he would hug him, a warlock, without thinking. Things related to his missing memories keep coming up, even when Magnus tries to focuses on something else.

“What are you doing here, Magnus?” Jace asks. “I was surprised you’d want to come to the Institute. The wards are fine, and Alec is—”

Magnus doesn’t want to find out what Alec is doing. “I’ve been asked by my brethren to intercede in favor of Lorenzo Rey,” he says. “I heard he was arrested.”

Jace and Isabelle exchange a look. “It’s a strange case,” Jace says. “Why would they send you?”

Magnus shrugs. “Because I have the interim High Warlock position by default, as the last person to hold that job.”

“Right,” Jace nods. “I thought it might be because you worked on the wards that were breached. Unfortunately, the case against him is strong. Unless you have new evidence to give us—”

“Lorenzo didn’t breach the Institute’s wards,” Magnus interrupts him. “I would have recognized his style. I may dislike him, but even I will admit that he has...distinction. The work was far too sloppy to be his.”

Jace makes a distasteful grimace. “I’m sorry Magnus, but I doubt that comments about style will be enough to clear him.”

“Don’t you find it weird, that you were handed a suspect on a platter nearly a month after the fact?” Magnus asks.

Jace and Isabelle look at each other again, as if measuring what they can say. Isabelle takes a step toward Magnus, her voice low. “We know he didn’t do it,” she says. “But we can’t prove that he’s being framed. We’re working on it, but it’s not looking good. If you have any actual element to give us—”

“You’re just going to accuse and convict an innocent Downworlder, as usual,” Magnus spits out, more bitterly than he really means to. “One more, one less, it doesn’t make much of a difference to you, does it?”

Isabelle freezes, her hands turning into fists at her sides. Jace turns around and bows his head, hands tight on the display table , as if he doesn’t want Magnus to see his reaction; but what hits Magnus is the gesture itself: a Shadowhunter trusting him enough to turn his back on him is unheard of. He doesn’t know what in his pronouncement angered both siblings so much – th e se two deal with Downworlders regularly, this can’t be the worst thing they’ve heard.

N either of them responds violently, though. “As hard as it may be to believe,” Isabelle says slowly, articulating every word, “Lorenzo is a…friend. None of us wants to see him convicted.”

A friend? Lorenzo Rey, friend with Shadowhunters? Magnus recoils in surprise. Of course, Lorenzo would have to be working slightly more closely with the Institute as High Warlock, but when Magnus had the job, he never even met the Heads. He’s heard through Raphael about the Downworld Cabinet that Alec instituted, but he took it as no more than some superficial formality made to appease the various factions than something serious.

“What do you have against him?” Magnus asks.

“An eyewitness,” Jace says. “A Shadowhunter, from this Institute. He swears he saw Lorenzo in the greenhouse right before the attack, using his magic for something.”

“That’s not very solid evidence. Do you have a motive, at least?”

Isabelle sighs. “It’s enough for the Inquisitor to find him guilty. There’s no need for a motive other than being a warlock, unfortunately.”

Magnus bites back a scathing remark under the weight of Jace’s warning glare.

“Changes in the Clave are slow, and people aren’t ready to be progressive,” Jace says. “It doesn’t mean we agree with it. But if we want to help Lorenzo, we have to work with the system.”

“A system that will execute him sooner than release him,” Magnus points out.

“Clary was sentenced to death once,” Jace says with a sad nod. “I almost was, too. You were nearly executed in Valentine’s body – that’s a really long story,” he stops Magnus from asking. “My point is, we all made it out.”

Magnus gapes at this new piece of information. He has nothing in his head to connect it to, and it feels more like a lie, a story invented on the spot, than something that actually happened. What on earth could have led him to body-swap with Valentine ?

“We need to find the warlock who really breached the wards,” Isabelle says. “Quickly. Can you help us?”

Magnus nods, still reeling. “I can try.” Suddenly feeling the need to be elsewhere, he turns around toward the exit.

“Magnus,” Isabelle calls after him.

Magnus stops and looks back at her. “ Yes ?”

She shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

Her and Jace’s hesitation makes Magnus forget his disquiet. Curiosity replaces it, and he turns fully toward them again. “What is it?”

“It’s about Alec. He’s, uh, he doesn’t want to talk to you about this, but—”

“But you think you should talk to me behind his back,” Magnus finishes with a small smirk.

He doesn’t know what to think of it. He doesn’t know if he wants to know whatever they have to say, if it has to do with his missing memories – and it has to, doesn’t it?

But then… Magnus hasn’t been able to get Alec out of his head, the past few weeks. Months. Ever since he healed Alec, and saw those memories inside his head, memories of himself that he doesn’t have anymore, he’s been obsessed with them. Him, kissing Alec. He finds himself daydreaming about what Alec’s lips might taste like – that’s how much of a disaster he is.

“He’s not doing well,” Jace says darkly. “I’m his parabatai, I can feel what he feels. We wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t important.”

Alec, the last time Magnus saw him, had managed to lose weight, from when he’d been dying from demon venom. He’d been hurting himself, hurling arrows at the targets with no regards for his own body. Yes, Magnus could see it. “What am I supposed to do about that? I don’t know him.”

“But you did,” Isabelle says. “Look, I know you don’t remember, but he’s been torturing himself over what happened, and—”

“From my point of view,” Magnus stops her, “whatever happened was so bad that it led me to choose to erase my own memories. Why on earth would I risk going through it all over again for a virtual stranger?”

“Because it wasn’t Alec’s fault,” Jace says.

“Because I can’t – I won’t believe that you don’t still feel something for him,” Isabelle whispers at the same time.

Magnus swallows. He can hardly deny it, can he? That Alec is present in so many of his thoughts, so many of his dreams.

“If it wasn’t his fault, as you say, then why—” Magnus gestures helplessly.

“Because he loves you more than he loves himself,” Jace hits him with. “He’s convinced himself that you’re happier for not knowing him. But he doesn’t see what we see.”

“What is it that you see?”

“I don’t think you’re very happy,” Isabelle says. Magnus opens his mouth to protest, but she shakes her head. “I’ve seen you happy, and it didn’t look like this. And Alec…”

“Alec won’t ever be happy without you,” Jace finishes. “It’s not even about the ‘Nephilim only love once’ thing, because we know that’s not always true, but he’s even more closed off now than he was before he met you. It’s like he’s given up.”

Magnus closes his eyes. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He doesn’t expect either of them to give him an actual answer. However much he doesn’t want to see Alec suffer, even though he doesn’t really know him, he also has to protect himself. Why should he trust the word of two Shadowhunters over his own choice to erase his memories?

And why, why does his brain betray him like this and want to listen to them?

He could just leave. Move away from New York, maybe to London – or not, because Magnus can’t quite think of Ragnor being gone yet – get away from this whole mess and start over. He’s done it enough times. He doesn’t have to hear of these Shadowhunters ever again. Soon enough they’ll be a thing of the past, anyway, and Magnus will live on.

So why can’t he bear the thought of that?

He needs more information, he decides. He can hear about what happened second-hand, and without the burden of the emotions tied to it, he’ll be able to make a rational decision, right?

“In his office, in the third drawer on the right in his desk, there are letters,” Isabelle says quietly, looking around her as if she expects Alec to show up any minute. “They’re addressed to you. I don’t know what’s in them, I didn’t snoop, but don’t you think you deserve to know?”

“How come you know they exist, if you didn’t snoop?” Magnus asks lightly, even though he feels anything but. Letters, addressed to him. A box, on his nightstand. He swallows around the crushing weight of the emotions raging inside him.

Jace looks briefly amused at his sister being caught , but Isabelle sobers. “Alec took me and Jens aside and showed us the drawer,” she says. “When he was sick. It has letters for all of us. Instructions on what to do after he died.”

Magnus averts his eyes, the rush of emotions unexpected.

“You don’t think he removed them?” he asks once he’s sure he can trust his voice not to waver. “Now that he’s not dying anymore?”

“We’re always one mission away from dying,” Jace shrugs, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to say. “It’s best to be prepared.”

And maybe that’s the rub. Relationships with mortals always end in heartbreak. Maybe Magnus simply couldn’t stand the thought of being left behind again.

*

Magnus feels more than a little uncomfortable, loitering outside Alec’s office. When he let Jace and Isabelle talk him into getting the letters, he didn’t think Alec would be present. He figured he’d just take a peek inside, locate the desk, and conjure the letters out of the drawer once he’d seen it.

But now he’s here, and he has no real choice but to go through with it or give it up and go home, in which case he’ll probably never get another chance to understand what really happened.

Darting a few looks around to make sure that he’s alone, he holds up his hands to make a frame and lets his magic do the trick. A portion of the wall disappears between his fingers, making a peephole to look inside the office.

Alec is standing by his desk, his shirt hitched up on his right side and his pants pulled down as far as they will go without undoing them, contorting to draw runes on his hip. Magnus watches him for a moment, fascinated and uncomfortable. He recognizes the runes, Heat, Painless, Protection, without knowing where this knowledge comes from.

S haking himself, he focuses on the desk itself, trying to guess the position of the third drawer on the right from what he can see from here. He brings the drawer’s content s to himself and sorts through them quickly, only keeping the stack of letters with his name on it and sending the rest – a small unmarked box and a second stack of envelopes – back into the drawer . He won’t push so far as to read letters not addressed to him.

He already feels bad enough as it is to have agreed to violate Alec’s privacy like that. The only thing that made him decide was hearing from his siblings how badly he’s been doing.

It’s obvious, looking at him. Out of a morbid kind of curiosity, Magnus reforms the peephole with his fingers, and he can see the way Alec’s ribs stick out, the gauntness of his face. The pain in his features as he shifts and grabs his cane, slipping his stele back into his pocket.

M agnus drops his hands just in time for Alec to walk out, and he tries to feign coming toward the door. Alec halts his steps as soon as he sees Magnus.

“Magnus,” he says, his voice almost breaking. He clears his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Advocating for Lorenzo Rey, apparently,” Magnus affects lightness. “He didn’t do whatever it is you’re accusing him of.”

A lec sighs. “ Y ou should talk to Izzy, not me. She’s the one in charge of the case. ”

“I just did,” Magnus nods. “I was just coming here to say hello.”

Alec narrows his eyes in suspicion, like he knows Magnus is lying, but he doesn’t push. “I have to go,” he says. “I have an appointment in Alicante in an hour.”

“Alicante?” Magnus frowns.

“Clave business,” Alec shrugs. “I should thank you, actually.”

“What for?”

“You told me to...follow my heart,” Alec grimaces, like he’s just swallowed something sour. “I mean, change the things I can control. So I did.”

Magnus shakes his head in incomprehension.

Alec works his jaw. “ Alicante is still under reconstruction, and we lost so many people. There are a lot of position s that haven’t been filled, and some that Jia Penhallow had to fill with people who don’t agree with her politically. She’s trying to even things out, but we’re rebuilding the Council from scratch .”

“Alexander, why are you telling me this?”

“The current Inquisitor is a...well, an asshole. He’s technically only Acting Inquisitor, because there hasn’t been a proper vote from the Council, since it was incomplete. Jia has asked me to consider running against him. I accepted. She wants me to work with her until the vote, so I’ll be moving to Alicante in a month.”

Magnus feels like he’s just swallowed a golf ball. “ What?”

“Izzy and Jens Storberg will be in charge while I’m gone,” Alec continues, oblivious to Magnus’ dismay – or pretending to ignore it. “If the Council decides to give me the job permanently, someone else will be named Head. I won’t come back to New York.”

“But this is your Institute,” Magnus protests. “Everyone I asked was adamant that you made it what it is.”

Alec swallows. “I can’t stay,” he says.

“Why?” Magnus asks, with a sinking feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alec doesn’t answer, looking down at his feet. His grip on his cane is so tight that his knuckles are white.

“Is it because of me?” Magnus asks in a breath.

Alec looks back up, slowly, never meeting his eyes. He settles his gaze somewhere over Magnus’ shoulder.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes, his face a mask of pain. “No. That’s not true. It’s what I thought when I first met you, that I couldn’t have all those things, but it turns out that I could. I did. And I ruined it all.” He opens his eyes again. “I’m sorry, Magnus. I know you don’t even remember, but I am so sorry.”

“Alexander—” Magnus reaches out.

Alec shakes his head, stepping away . “I have to go. I— I’ll be very busy for the next few weeks. I probably won’t see you again before I leave. ”

Magnus drops his hand in defeat.

“Goodbye, Magnus,” Alec says softly before turning away.

*

The trouble with a private meeting with Jia Penhallow, with no one but Aline as their audience, is that there is no room for Alec to hide how awful he feels.

They notice. Jia stops in the middle of a sentence twice to ask him if he’s okay. Alec would be worried about his future job if he didn’t know that he already has her full support, and their main hurdle will be the Council. He still tries to play it down, but neither woman looks convinced by his protests that he’s fine.

“Alec,” Aline takes him by the arm as soon as they’re out of Jia’s office. “What’s going on with you?”

Alec shrugs, swallowing down the knot in his throat that threatens to spill out. “Nothing.” He winces when Aline tugs at his arm and it forces him to put his weight on his bad leg.

Aline catches it. “Are you in pain? If it’s a physical issue, you know Mom won’t think any less of you for that. We could have postponed the meeting.”

“No, I’m good,” Alec shakes his head. It’s the truth, he’s not in any more pain than he always is.

“Then what’s wrong?” Aline pushes. “Come on, I’ve never seen you this distracted.”

Alec sighs. All he wants is to take the portal back to the Institute and hide in his room for the rest of the day. Let go, finally, of everything he’s bottled up. But he doesn’t have that luxury.

He did what he had to do, he tells himself. Magnus is getting too close, and it’s not good for either of them. He promised himself he would stay away, and that’s what he’s doing.

H e shouldn’t feel like he’s losing Magnus a second time.

“Earth to Alec,” Aline waves a hand in front of his face. “Angel, you’re really out of it. Come on, I’m taking you to lunch and you’re going to tell me what’s going on. That’s non-negotiable.”

Alec huffs in defeat and follows her. When she gets in a mood, Aline is a force of nature, and he knows he won’t be able to argue his way out of this. “How’s the wedding coming along?” he asks in a weak attempt to distract her.

“Oh, just fine,” Aline rolls her eyes. “We’ve got five weeks left and we still don’t have a venue. Apparently no place in Alicante is willing to host a gay wedding where one of the brides is a half-Seelie. I thought my last name would help, but we’ve been rejected everywhere.”

Alec stops walking. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t know you were having trouble with that. If you don’t mind getting married outside Alicante, we can do it at the Institute.”

Aline’s eyes widen. “Really? Alec, I—I didn’t want to ask, because I know this is hard for you—”

“Helen’s asked me to be her suggenes,” Alec says, swallowing. It is hard, thinking of Magnus and the ring in his desk drawer every time he hears about the wedding, but Aline and Helen are among his best friends. They deserve this. “I’m happy for you both, and I would be honored to host your wedding, Aline.”

Aline pulls him closer to hug him and Alec does his best not to stiffen, bracing himself on his cane to keep his balance. “Thank you,” she says in his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

“Eat,” she glares at him a few minutes later, once they’re seated in the small restaurant and their dishes have been served. “I’ve seen you skip too many meals.”

Alec takes a bite of his steak. It ta st es like cardboard, like everything does these days. He doesn’t have any appetite. “You have no idea if I skip meals or not,” he retorts. “ One of the perks of being the Head of the Institute is that I get to have my meals brought to me.”

“Yeah, and you send them back untouched,” Aline says. “I happen to be friends with one of the cooks.”

“So what, you monitor everyone’s eating habits?”

Aline shrugs. “Nope, just yours. Need to make sure my boss isn’t going to topple over in the middle of a meeting with my mom.”

Alec glares at her. “I wasn’t going to pass out,” he says.

“You’re depressed, Alec,” Aline grows serious. “We’ve all noticed it. Jace and Izzy are worried out of their minds for you, and Jens is hoarding paperwork trying to lighten your load. Even Kara came to ask me if you’re okay.”

Alec leans back in his seat and sighs. He knows he’s not doing well. His siblings have tried to talk to him about it multiple times, and even his mother keeps trying to invite him over to discuss it. He hoped he was doing a better job than this at keeping his private life separate from his work, but he’s obviously terrible at that, too. Between that and his failure to keep the Institute safe…

“I’m not being a very good Head, am I?” he says bitterly. “I’ll probably do even worse as an Inquisitor.”

“Alec, this isn’t about your professionalism,” Aline says. “You’ll be a great Inquisitor, if you get the job. Your head isn’t in the game right now, and that happens to the best of us. But you’ve got to take better care of yourself.”

She leans over the table to lay her hand on his. “You’ve been through a lot the last few months, more than I can imagine going through. And the whole time you’ve still managed to run one of the largest Institutes in the world and do it well. It’s okay if you need to take some time for yourself.”

“I can’t,” Alec mutters.

“Why?”

Because if he does, he’ll collapse. If he stops filling his head and occupying his hands with the dozens of decisions and paperwork he does for the Institute every day, he’ll be left with nothing . Nothing but the hole inside him in the shape of Magnus.

“I just can’t,” he says, pushing back his half-eaten plate. “Thanks for the lunch, Aline. I’ve got to get back.”

“Alec,” Aline catches his wrist as he stands up, forcing him to sit back down. “You’ve got friends and family who love you. Don’t push us away.”

Alec just stares at her hand until she lets him go. He doesn’t feel capable of responding without bursting into tears, and that’s the last thing he wants.

His phone assaults his ears just before he steps through the portal back to New York. He waits until he’s made it back to his office – thankfully right beside the portal room – to pick up. Jace’s excited voice greets him, and Alec simultaneously becomes conscious of the warmth radiating from his parabatai rune. Good warmth. Jace is happy, in a way he hasn’t been since—

“Clary’s recognized me!” Jace almost shouts into the phone.

Alec lowers the volume and limps to his desk to sit down. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“She knows who I am. She said my name and she remembers how we met. Alec, I think the angels have forgiven her!”

Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s great,” he says. It really is. He won’t admit it – okay, maybe he will – but he’s missed Clary like he’d miss a little sister. And Jace needs her. Izzy, too, he thinks. But he’s also really, really not in the mood to deal with Jace’s happiness right now.

It would figure, that Clary would start regaining her memories on the day Alec definitively says goodbye to Magnus, right?

“Where are you?” he asks.

“At Clary’s art school,” Jace says. “I was thinking of bringing her to Luke first, since she didn’t completely forget him. Familiarity would be good, right?”

“Right,” Alec agrees without trying to think about it. “Do that. Call Simon, too. Give her time, okay? Don’t push her too quickly.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Jace says. “I just—I thought you should know. But we’ll go slow.”

“Thank you,” Alec breathes.

H e hangs up before Jace can say anything else. Before he can even take a minute to process, someone knocks at his door. Alec throws his phone on the desk and grits his teeth. “Yes?”

I t’s Underhill. Alec is almost ready to tell him to get lost, before he notices Underhill’s solemn demeanor, as he steps through and immediately stands at attention. He doesn’t look good, Alec notices. Of course. Lorenzo is still in the cell below the Institute, and they’re no closer to getting him free than they were two days ago when he was arrested.

“Come in,” he gestures Underhill closer. “I assume this is about Lorenzo.”

“I just wanted to know—”

“If I have news from the Consul,” Alec finishes. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything good. Her hands are tied, as long as we don’t have any other convincing suspect.”

“He didn’t do it,” Underhill says.

“I know. But the evidence is against him. The best I can do is push to have the trial here. He’s going to need a defender.”

“He can defend himself.”

Alec shakes his head. “ Not this time. Not against the Clave . I would do it, but as the Head of the Institute, I can’t. Neither can you,” he adds before Underhill can open his mouth.

“Then who?”

Alec watches the desperation on Underhill’s face, the fear, all too familiar, and he sighs. “Hire Magnus,” he says. “For the right price, he’ll do it, and he’ll do it well. He defended Izzy, once. It was before yo u came here , but the Clave was dead set on punishing her for something she didn’t do, because Downworlders were involved.”

“Alec, I—are you sure?”

Alec nods. He’ll do anything to give them the happiness that he and Magnus were robbed of by the circumstances, he decides. Underhill and Lorenzo deserve it. Alec may have started out despising Lorenzo, but they’ve grown much closer since they’ve been working on the Downworld Cabinet together, and he’d be willing to call him a friend, now. As for Underhill, he’s been an invaluable support in the last few months. Not just to Alec, but to Kara as well, to Max and all the other young Shadowhunters they’ve taken in since Alicante.

A nd this whole mess? It feels like Izzy’s trial and Jace’s imprisonment and the GPS chip disaster all over again, like another occasion for the Clave and the Circle – or whatever they call themselves now – to mess with them until they lose everything.

Alec won’t let that happen again.

“Go to Magnus,” he says. “Tell him I’ll pay the price myself, if he requires it. We’ll get Lorenzo out of there if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

“Thank you, sir,” Underhill breathes.

A lec can’t salvage what’s already broken, but maybe he can make things right for someone else.

Chapter Text

Magnus claps his hands and lets his magic wash over him, changing his day outfit into a pair of silk pajamas. He stands in front of his full-sized mirror and guides his power to remove his makeup and his hair gel, taking a critical look at himself.

His reflection looks tired. Concealer has been his friend, but here in the harsh light of his bathroom, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days – which isn’t far from the truth. His sleep has been plagued with confusing dreams for weeks, and he spends more time tossing and turning than actually resting.

He sighs and walks back into his bedroom, letting himself drop onto the bed. If only he could get Alec’s infinitely sad face out of his mind. “Goodbye, Magnus.”

The stack of letters has been sitting on Magnus’ nightstand for days, beside the memory box. Magnus runs his finger over the carved bow on the box, the red of the arrow fletching the only touch of color on the dark wood.

He hasn’t opened the letters yet. He feels awful for even taking them, for betraying Alec’s trust like this. He has no right to them, whatever Alec’s siblings might say. And yet they attract him almost ineluctably. He can feel their pull, taking away his concentration, rendering him unable to think of anything else.

His hands move almost without his consent. The first letter, at the top of the stack, seems to be the oldest, and that’s the one Magnus opens. He scoots back on his bed until he’s against the headboard, pulling the covers to himself.

He almost jumps at his name, at the top of the letter. It feels wrong to see it there, in a stranger’s handwriting, and yet something in him calls for familiarity. He traces the name with his thumb without thinking.

Dear Magnus,

I don’t know why I’m writing to you. I guess that a part of me doesn’t want to believe that you really don’t remember me, us, and I’m trying to hang on to you in the only way I know how. It hasn’t even been a week since I broke up with you, but it already feels like an eternity. I wonder what time feels like for you, if it still stretches and snaps after living for centuries.

I don’t know if I can face the thought of living the rest of my time on Earth without you. The fact that it won’t be long is almost a consolation. Almost.

I guess it’s better this way. You’ve got your magic and your immortality back. You can move on, be happy. I’m relieved that you won’t have to watch me waste away and die. I know that was one of your biggest fears, our biggest fear, that I would eventually die and you would live on.

I hoped that we would have more time. Our time together was like a dream come true, but life has a strange way of catching up to you.

The handwriting is shaky and sloppy, like the hand holding the pen was trembling. It’s barely legible in places, the paper almost torn through. Magnus looks up at the date. Five days after the Battle of Alicante, if he’s not mistaken. With the Pervious venom in his system and a shattered hip, Alec must have been in agony.

But more than his physical pain, what transpires through the words is the depth of his emotional distress.

I’m dying. Catarina said that the venom cannot be purged, that if I’m lucky, I have a few months left. Maybe a year.

I’m terrified, Magnus. I shouldn’t be. We Shadowhunters prepare for death and pain from the first day of our training. I used to think that when death came for me, I would welcome it, and there was a time when I might have. But now, I realize that I’m not ready to die.

You’ve taught me that every moment is worth living. I was barely surviving when I met you. I was just going through the motions. The burden of my family and the Clave was too heavy on my shoulders for me to see life as anything more than a duty. I didn’t know how to enjoy waking up to the sun shining on my face, or watering flowers and watching them grow, or smiling at another person just because I can. You taught me all of that.

Magnus blinks back tears, smoothing the letter with his thumb. He stops reading and stares at the wall without seeing it. His mind is desperately trying to fill in the blanks of the time he’s missing, and the box calls to him more and more.

This is almost too intimate. The letters are addressed to a person that isn’t him. A stranger. Someone who shared Alec’s life for the last few years and loved him. Magnus shouldn’t be reading them.

But now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

The very first time we met, at Pandemonium, I barely got a glimpse of you. I shot a Circle member that was about to attack you and you opened a portal and left. I don’t think I even registered your face and how it made me feel until hours later.

I used to think that I was in love with Jace. How wrong I was. What I felt for him, beyond our parabatai bond, was a pale imitation of romantic love, something I’d convinced myself that I felt because Jace was unattainable. He was safe.

You were not. I was terrified of the feelings that you brought up in me. I felt a pull toward you that was almost irresistible, even though I tried. I’d never felt that way before. I don’t think I knew what attraction was before I met you.

I didn’t know what happiness was before I met you.

*

Magnus startles at a knock on his front door. He frowns, putting down the letter in his hand.

He hasn’t been able to go to sleep, so he’s been slung over his bed in his pajamas, slowly making his way through the letters. He can only read so many words at a time before emotions grip him again and he has to stop and breathe. He can make himself forget memories, remove them from his brain, but he can’t remove the emotions. His brain still knows them, and it’s mending those neural pathways as Magnus reads.

He was a fool to think it would be safe. He should stop reading right now, banish the letters back to Alec’s drawer. This is dangerous.

Grumbling as a second knock sounds through the loft, he jumps to his feet. Is it already late enough for a social call? Who is knocking on his door at – he checks the time magically – nine in the morning? Not a vampire, that’s for sure, unless it’s the Daylighter.

Magnus changes his outfit with a flap of his hands, regretting the nice and warm shower his sore back is crying for, and he tucks the letter back into its envelope. It wouldn’t do to leave it lying around, in case it’s Alec at the door.

He feels his heart skip a beat at that thought, but it won’t be Alec. Alec is moving to Alicante. Alec said goodbye.

Fuck.

He’s more than a little annoyed when he throws open the door of the loft, to find a Shadowhunter he barely knows on the other side.

“What do you want?” Magnus asks through his teeth.

The blond Shadowhunter bows his head slightly. “Warlock Bane. I am… I’m in need of your services.”

Magnus blinks. “My services? You’re one of Alec’s lieutenants, right?”

“Andrew Underhill. I’m his Head of Security. But I’m not here for him, I’m here for Lorenzo Rey.”

Magnus stays frozen for a moment, trying to process that. A Shadowhunter at his door, asking for his services, for Lorenzo Rey of all people. Sure, Magnus has been trying to find whoever framed Lorenzo for days, because the Council has asked him to, but he didn’t expect this.

“Come in,” he grumbles eventually. He shows the Shadowhunter to his couch and makes himself a drink, not bothering to ask Underhill if he wants one. “Why do you care about Lorenzo?”

Underhill hesitates almost imperceptibly. “He’s my partner,” he says.

Magnus freezes, still with his back to Underhill. A Shadowhunter boyfriend. Sure, he’s heard rumors, but no one ever confirmed them, so he didn’t put too much weight behind them. People usually gossip to Magnus. He figured that if it was true, he’d have heard it from Catarina or Dot.

But then again, everyone’s carefully avoided telling him about another mixed relationship: his own. It’s only just starting to sink in that whatever he had with Alec was far more than a fling, a short-term thing that ended in disaster. And all his friends have so carefully avoided the subject that Magnus heard nothing about it until he crossed paths with Alec again.

It feels like every move he makes brings out the things he’s missing in sharp relief.

“Lorenzo,” he says, a little stunned. “And you?”

“Yeah,” Underhill shrugs as Magnus turns around to face him. “I know, we’re very different.”

“If it works for you, who am I to judge?” Magnus says almost reflexively, taking a large sip of his drink to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.

Underhill winces a little. “I know you don’t like him, but...he’s not what most people think. Not really.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The Clave has set a trial date, in two weeks. Lightwood pushed for it to be at the Institute. We want you to be Lorenzo’s counsel.”

Magnus stares. “Why me? The Spiral Council has lawyers for that purpose.”

Underhill considers him for a moment, and Magnus holds his gaze, even with his mind going through the options opening in front of him. Whatever he may think of Lorenzo, he doesn’t want to see him burn for something he didn’t do. That, and a High Warlock being executed for attacking his local Institute would hurt their standing a lot. His arrest is already making things complicated.

Magnus is no lawyer, but he has more experience than most to weigh against the Clave, and it was his wards that were breached. It could be a good move. But he doubts that Underhill came up with it himself.

“Lightwood suggested you,” the Shadowhunter admits. “He said that he’s seen you do it before. With his sister?”

“I’ve never—” Magnus starts, but he stops abruptly. With his memories gone, never has become overrated. I’ve never defended someone in court. I’ve never been friends with Shadowhunters. I’ve never loved a Nephilim. Who knows what other impossible things he’s done in the last three years?

“Lorenzo fought the idea, but even he admitted that you’re the best option,” Underhill says.

“You got to see him?” Magnus asks in honest surprise. “I thought he’d be in the Gard by now.”

“No, he’s still at the Institute. Another thing Lightwood pushed for.”

“How is he doing?”

Underhill sighs. “As well as possible. At least he’s not being treated badly. But unless we find out who framed him, it’s not looking good for him.”

Magnus takes another swig of his drink and sinks into his favorite armchair, more dramatically than he would if he were alone. “Alright. But I’m not going to do it for free.”

To his credit, Underhill nods immediately. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“I’m sure I can come to an agreement with Lorenzo on a few items I’d like when I go see him,” Magnus says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But I want other things, too.”

Underhill straightens his posture. “Name them.”

“I want my old position back,” Magnus starts. He doesn’t remember what on Earth he could have done to get himself voted out, and that bothers him even more than not being the one other warlocks come to with problems anymore.

Underhill winces a little, but he nods. “He won’t be happy, but it’s better than being executed. I’ll make it happen.”

Magnus blinks at his certitude. A Nephilim confident that he can get a warlock to do something he doesn’t want to do – that’s peculiar. Especially when the warlock in question is the annoying, master-of-bad-faith Lorenzo Rey.

“You’re aware that it’s an elective position, right?”

Underhill shrugs. “I can’t sway the warlocks’ votes, but I can get Lorenzo to give you his support. If you get him out of this, the other warlocks will be thankful. And if...if it goes wrong, you’re the next in line anyway.”

Magnus stares at him for a moment. Not only is this Shadowhunter in love with a warlock – and for all his face remains mostly expressionless, the love is obvious – but he’s also knowledgeable in warlock politics. Where has the world gone?

“I want something else,” Magnus says. “But not from you or Lorenzo.”

Underhill nods in understanding. “Lightwood—Alec said that he’s willing to pay the price if that’s what you ask.”

Magnus assesses the Shadowhunter, wondering how close he is to Alec. He’s a gay Shadowhunter, in love with a warlock. They have things in common.

“I want a meeting with him,” he says. “Here.”

“I will pass that on,” Underhill nods. He hesitates. “I know I have no right to ask you this, given that I’ve come for help, but...Alec’s one of the best people I know. Please, don’t ask too much of him.”

Magnus tilts his head, seeing an opportunity. “I won’t,” he says. “If you tell me everything you know about him.”

Underhill blinks. “I—he’s my boss. I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you for details about his private life,” Magnus rolls his eyes. “Just tell me about him. What kind of boss is he?”

Underhill gives him a wary look, and he sits forward, his back ramrod straight, his hands crossed on his lap. A soldier in every way.

“He’s the best Head I’ve ever had,” he says slowly, uncomfortable. “I’ve only been in New York for two years, but he’s the reason I want to stay. I’ve had a lot of commanding officers, and he’s not like any of them. He’s...he’s patient, always kind, and he never asks any of us to do something he wouldn’t do himself.” He pauses. “He’s the reason why I came out. Without him showing us the way, we would all still be in the closet, maybe for the rest of our lives.”

“We?” Magnus notices.

“There’s been dozens of transfer requests from Shadowhunters all over the world,” Underhill explains. “People who’ve heard of Alec and...well, you, and who want to work with him. Before your relationship became public, it was almost impossible for us to be out as LGBT+, or mixed-race couples. It was something that was hidden and never spoken about. Now we have weekly meetings at the Institute.”

Magnus stares in surprise. Of course, the Nephilim are traditional and bigoted, he’s always known that, but he didn’t expect to hear this. There’s still so much he’s missing, he realizes. He kind of assumed that his and Alec’s relationship, whatever it really was, was something they kept private – it would make sense for Alec’s family and Magnus’ friends to know, but the entire Shadowhunter society?

“When did he come out?” he asks.

Underhill hesitates. “It was before I got transferred,” he says. “I only know what I’ve heard, and I’m not sure I should—”

Magnus waves a hand in annoyance. “If you want me to help Lorenzo—” He knows, vaguely, that it’s low and uncharitable, but he feels unmoored, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Underhill stiffens. “Fine. Word of mouth is – and I don’t know how much of this is true – that Alec was going to get married to a Nephilim woman. Apparently you showed up in the middle of the wedding and he stepped down from the altar and kissed you in front of everyone. It made a lot of noise at the time, it’s the first time I heard of him.”

Dramatic. If this is true, Magnus doesn’t know Alec anywhere near as well as he thought. He feels a pang in his heart at the thought, something that feels suspiciously like jealousy – toward who? himself? – and his queasiness only grows stronger.

“I don’t know exactly what went down between you two,” Underhill says in a lower voice. “It’s none of my business. But you should know that we’re all really thankful to you for healing him.”

“We?”

“The Institute,” Underhill clarifies. “Lorenzo and the Downworld Cabinet, too. Alec has made a lot of friends over the years, and the Lightwoods are central to the local Shadow World. Watching them fall apart like that...it was heartbreaking.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to do with that, so he stands up brutally and goes to refill his glass. He needs to hold off on the drinking, it’s not even ten in the morning, but his hands need something to hold.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” he says coolly, his back to Underhill, because he can’t deal with his emotions while the Shadowhunter is still here. “Tell Alec I’ll be in touch with him for that meeting. I’ll come to prepare Lorenzo’s defense tomorrow morning.”

He hears Underhill stand up, but he doesn’t turn around. “Thank you for helping us, Warlock Bane. I’m leaving a card with my number so you can reach me. I’ll make sure that the rest of your payment is ready as soon as possible.”

Magnus just nods and doesn’t move until the front door closes behind the Shadowhunter. He puts his glass down on the bar and finds that his hands are trembling.

What is happening to him?

*

Dear Magnus,

Every time Mom comes to sit with me, I keep thinking about how much she’s changed in the last three years. She was so cold and distant through my childhood, and now she’s grown into this caring, warm person that I don’t even recognize.

I remember how she would barely speak to me after I kissed you at my wedding. How enraged she was that I kissed a warlock and embarrassed our family. You were an incredible support that day, on top of the best first kiss I could have hoped for. Without you, I would have caved and obeyed her. I almost did.

She’ll never be the perfect mother to me, to any of us except maybe Max, but she’s really trying to make up for her mistakes. I thought getting deruned would destroy her, but it did the opposite. She’s more open than I’ve ever known her, and I think she’s even happy. Or, well, she was.

She’s mourning. We all are. She had to get a special permission to even come to Alicante to watch over her dying son. I was too sick to go to Dad’s Rite of Mourning.

I feel like the whole world went upside down, Magnus. I feel like you were my light, and now I’m lost in the darkness. I don’t know what to do.

*

“Alec!”

The voice comes as a surprise, just as Alec makes it inside his office. He barely has time to brace himself on his cane before he’s hit by a hundred-something pounds of red-haired girl. Clary wraps her arms around his chest and buries her head in his lapel, hugging him tight.

After a moment of surprise, Alec squeezes her back with his free arm. “Hey, Clary,” he murmurs.

She looks up at him without letting him go, her face full of tears. She tries to say something, but it comes out as a hiccup.

“Wow, I didn’t know you liked me this much, Fray,” Alec jokes, even though his throat feels tight.

“Me neither,” Clary smiles through her tears. “Sorry, I just...when I got my memories back, I thought you might be—”

Alec nods and pats her back. “I’m fine. Though I’m going to fall over if you don’t let me go.”

“Sorry,” she winces, taking a step back to let him regain his balance. “You still—” she gestures to Alec’s cane.

Alec turns away and closes the door behind them without answering. He feels Clary’s heavy gaze on him as he limps through his office to sit on the couch. “Didn’t get any miraculous healing,” he says. “Just a load of raw power from Magnus. Took care of the Pervious venom, barely, but he couldn’t help more than Catarina for the rest.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Clary hesitates, drying her face with her sleeve.

Alec shakes his head and pats the couch beside him. “So, you’re back.”

“I’m back,” Clary beams at him, dropping onto the couch.

“How does that feel?”

“Good! I don’t know. Weird, too. I’m scared,” she admits.

“That it won’t last?” Alec asks. He knows Jace feels the same way, and he understands where they come from.

“Yeah, I guess. If the angels took my memories and my runes and then gave them back...what prevents them from taking them again?”

Alec turns toward her fully and puts a hand on her shoulder. “We’re all there, Clary. One bad day away from...death, losing someone we love, a lifelong disability. Especially us.”

Clary makes a face that’s too close to pity and Alec realizes a little too late that he’s just described everything he lost in Alicante. He winces and shakes his head. “What I mean is: just take it. You’ve got your memories back. Take it and enjoy it.”

Clary takes a breath. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

“How was art school?” Alec asks.

“Not as good as I thought it would be!” Clary shrugs with a smile. “I mean, for mundane-me, it was a huge dream. Dreams are always better in your head. And this—” she waves her arm to encompass the building around them, “—this is what I’m really meant for. The whole time I felt like something was missing.”

“What was it like?” Alec asks as lightly as he can. “Missing memories like that.”

“Weird. I didn’t have a good explanation for it. Luke kept saying that I’d hit my head and I believed him, but it didn’t really make sense. Now it feels like...a dream.” She pauses and assesses Alec critically. “Magnus still doesn’t remember, does he?”

Alec shakes his head wordlessly.

Clary deflates a little. “How are you really doing?” she asks.

“I’m okay.” Alec doesn’t let Clary’s disbelieving frown stop him. “I’m, uh, moving to Alicante in three weeks. Looks like I might be the next Inquisitor.”

“What? That’s amazing! That’s a huge promotion, right?”

“It’s not a done deal,” Alec tempers. “But yes, it would be pretty big.”

“I’m happy for you,” Clary smiles, and there’s so much sincerity in her voice that Alec has to swallow around the knot in his throat. “You deserve it so much.”

Alec smiles back tightly. “I don’t know about that. But I’ll do my best to prove worthy of it.”

“Come on, Alec! I know I haven’t been around, but even I know that you’re single-handedly responsible for the Shadow World’s good relationships right now. You’re our rock, you know? You’ve carried us all through the last few years. I might not always have liked it, but we couldn’t have done anything without you.”

Alec stares at her in disbelief for a moment. “Seriously?”

Clary straightens and grows more grave. “Yes. You know, getting my memories back after losing months like that, it’s an interesting way to acquire perspective. Maybe I’ve grown while I was gone, or I was just too deep into my problems before, but I can see how self-centered I was at times. I didn’t see the burdens that you were all carrying long before I came along.”

Alec nods slowly, putting his hand on hers. He meets her eyes briefly, then smirks to break the tension. “Little girl, all grown up,” he teases.

Clary gives him a mock-slap on the arm. “Hey, I still have a name!”

“Thank you, though,” Alec says more seriously. “You sure were infuriating at times. But I misjudged you too. I shouldn’t have resented you for not being as mature as we were forced to be. You got a chance at a real childhood, and that’s a good thing.”

“I’m ready for more, now,” Clary says with a grateful nod. “I want to finish my training properly. Get my runes in order this time.”

“I’ll sponsor you for the Academy,” Alec offers. “They should be able to give you accelerated basic training, and let you choose a specialty within a few months.”

“That’s awesome, thank you,” Clary beams at him.

They talk for a little while longer about the Academy and Clary’s options before Alec forces himself off the couch. “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to work,” he says. “Thank you for coming. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Of course, I shouldn’t keep you!” Clary jumps to her feet. “I’m so happy you’re healed, Alec. Really.” She nearly saunters to the door in her enthusiasm. “I’ll see you soon!”

“Clary,” Alec calls her back quietly before she opens the door. “Magnus—Magnus helped us, helped Jace while you were gone. Did Jace tell you?”

Clary nods silently, looking unsure.

“He remembers you. He should know that you’re back.”

“I—” Clary hesitates. “I’m going to see him. I wasn’t sure you’d want to know.”

“That’s good,” Alec nods, too stiffly. He swallows. “He did a lot for us, even without remembering us. He’s...he’s still Magnus.”

“Fuck, Alec,” Clary mutters, retracing her steps to hug him again. “I’m so sorry.”

Alec hugs her back and sighs, closing his eyes.

*

Dear Magnus,

I’m finally back in New York. Being stuck in Alicante was awful, but I didn’t anticipate how much I would feel your presence here in the Institute. You’re everywhere. I’m still in the infirmary and not leaving anytime soon, but I’m in the same room where I waited for you to wake up after you rejected Lorenzo’s magic. I can still see your face if I close my eyes, remember how terrified I was. I can’t believe that it was only a couple months ago. It feels like an eternity.

Catarina looks even sadder when she looks at me now than she did that day. We haven’t told Madzie that I’m dying. She’s lost too much already in her short life, and I don’t know how she’ll handle it.

I hope you remember enough of her to love her. I would never forgive myself if my own mistakes took that away from her.

Us babysitting her at the loft is one of my favorite memories of us. It only happened a few times, before and after you lost your magic, but she never failed to put that beautiful smile on your face. I found myself dreaming for things I’d never dared dream of, Magnus. We never spoke about it, but I dreamed about having children of our own. Maybe adopting a young warlock and sparing them a childhood like yours, or taking in one of the Nephilim war orphans and giving them a better future. I wanted it so badly.

I hope you find someone who loves you like you deserve. Someone who can give you what I couldn’t.

*

Magnus thought that meeting up with old friends would take his mind off his unhealthy obsession with Alec’s letters, but instead he finds himself annoyed and itching to go back to them. He fidgets with his glass. His first meeting with Lorenzo in the Institute cell showed him that the other warlock is in fact well treated, and that he has no idea who would frame him that way. Magnus didn’t see Alec, but Underhill told him that he accepted the meeting Magnus requested, and that it would take place at his convenience.

Magnus has already decided to wait until he knows what he wants from Alec. The least he can do is respect him, and Alec is clearly hurting. Magnus won’t toy with his feelings that way. Not when his heart breaks for him every time he opens a new letter.

But it’s hard to wait. There’s a burning curiosity, a yearning that makes Magnus want to just open the box and take the memories back, pain be damned. If Alec asked him to do it, he probably wouldn’t even hesitate.

The one thing staying his hand is the fact that he still doesn’t know how they broke up.

“You’re moping,” Raphael says dryly, kicking his shin to startle him out of his thoughts.

“Ow!” Magnus glares at him.

“Uncle Rapha! No kicking!”

Magnus and Catarina exchange a look over Madzie’s head as she rushes over to Raphael to scold him and they can’t help bursting out laughing. Raphael just scowls at the little girl, but with so much fondness in his eyes that his love is evident. “Sorry, Madzie, you’re right,” he opens his arms in surrender. “I won’t do it again.”

He sends a warning glare to Magnus to tell him that he will very much do it again as soon as Madzie turns her back to him.

“What’s wrong, Magnus?” Catarina asks from where she’s sprawled over the couch. “You’ve been maudlin for months now.”

“I just—” Magnus hesitates. Does he want to talk about it with his friends, the same friends who didn’t tell him he was in a relationship with a Shadowhunter?

More to the point, can he blame them when he doesn’t know what he may have told them that he forgot about?

“How much do you know about Alec Lightwood?” he asks. Raphael is part of the Downworld Cabinet. Catarina was called a friend by Isabelle and Jace. Magnus knows they know something.

They both freeze and send each other a panicked look. Magnus sighs. “I know I erased my memories of him,” he says. “I know I was in a relationship with him. I’m just...we’ve crossed paths a few times, and he confuses me.”

“Magnus, are you sure you want to know?” Catarina asks, frowning.

“No,” Magnus admits.

Raphael leans forward. “Then what do you want?”

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. Something. I can’t get him out of my head, and without more elements, I can’t figure out if I want him there or not.”

Madzie has gone back to her drawing on the table and she doesn’t seem to be listening to them. Catarina sits up on the couch and crosses her legs, staring at Magnus like she’s trying to read him.

“It’s been strange, acting like nothing’s happened in the last four years around you,” she sighs. “But with time, it will even out. Are you sure you want to know?”

“No,” Magnus says. “But I want you to tell me.”

“Tell you what exactly?” Raphael asks.

“How did it end?”

They exchange a look again. “We don’t know,” Catarina says slowly. “You...your father took your magic and your immortality. You weren’t happy, or even okay, but you and Alec were fine. This boy would have done anything for you, and you were head over heels in love with him.”

“The next thing we knew, your magic was back and you didn’t even remember him,” Raphael finishes. “Whatever happened, it was fast.”

“My father took my magic?” Magnus gapes at them. It’s one thing that Asmodeus died and Magnus inherited the power of Edom from him, but this? He’d thought he’d left his father and his manipulations in the past.

“You made a deal with him,” Catarina says. “You needed his power to save Alec’s parabatai.”

“Magnus,” Raphael raises a hand before Magnus can react to that. “You either need to know nothing or everything. If you only get fragments of the story, you’ll be judging yourself and all of us on half the facts.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Magnus sighs. “I’m—” I’m falling in love with Alec. He almost says it out loud, but he hasn’t even admitted it to himself. “I’m confused.”

“Have you actually talked to Alec?” Catarina asks. Her voice is soft and caring, with a tenderness that Magnus feels is directed toward Alec even more than him. Alec’s siblings said that she was a friend, but Magnus assumed that it was more of a patient-healer relationship than an actual friendship. There’s something in Catarina’s demeanor though, something almost protective of Alec, that Magnus didn’t expect at all.

“I’m pretty sure he’s avoiding me, and I don’t blame him,” Magnus shrugs. “He told me that he’s moving to Alicante.”

“He told us that at the last Cabinet meeting,” Raphael confirms. “As much as I dislike Nephilim as a rule, I’ll be sad to see him go. At least we know that Isabelle is the most likely to replace him, and she’ll carry on his work.”

“Isabelle?” Magnus repeats. The way Raphael said the name… “You had a relationship with her?”

“You’ve missed a lot of things, Magnus,” Raphael says quietly, sadly. “Isabelle and I didn’t work out, but she’s no less an incredible woman.”

Magnus takes a moment to process that – from the little he knows of Isabelle Lightwood, he would never have imagined her with Raphael. “What about Alec?” he asks. “What do you think about him?”

Raphael stares at him silently for a while. “He’s a protective brother, and a solid leader,” he finally says. “He’s willing to work with us, and he doesn’t compromise on what he thinks is right. I admire that. He’s also depressed and not taking care of himself and he’s going to burn out.”

Magnus blinks at Raphael’s bluntness – not that he expects anything else, but hearing this from someone else than Jace and Isabelle is a little jarring. Alec is not doing well, and he can hear the implication behind it, the thought that they all have and don’t dare to voice:

“And that’s because of me. Because of whatever happened between us.”

“No,” Catarina reacts forcefully. “You’re not responsible, Magnus. Even if we don’t know how it ended, you can’t be blamed if you don’t even remember.”

“But I’m not wrong, am I? Alec’s depression dates back to when I erased my memories.”

“Which is also when he was injured,” Catarina points out. “He lost his father that day. He lived for months thinking that he was going to die. He sustained a life-changing injury. Each of those are cause enough to spiral down, and I’m not even touching on his pre-existing issues.”

“The real question here, Magnus,” Raphael straightens in his seat, “is why are you so worried about him?”

“Because he’s—” Magnus starts forcefully, and he finds himself like a fish out of water when he doesn’t find the words so say what Alec is, exactly. Raphael isn’t wrong. He doesn’t know Alec. He shouldn’t care about him.

But he does.

“Mommy?” a high-pitched voice asks, and they all turn to look at Madzie, who has approached them from behind Magnus’ armchair.

“Yes, sweetie?” Catarina’s whole face softens as she looks at her daughter.

Magnus is reminded of Alec’s letter. I hope you remember enough of her to love her. He’s fuzzy about how exactly Madzie came to live with Catarina, and he hasn’t seen her much in the last few months, almost like Catarina purposefully avoided taking her along. What does Madzie know of everything that’s happened? Alec obviously knows her, and loves her.

“Are you talking about Alec?” Madzie asks, unwittingly confirming his suspicions as Catarina winces.

“Yes, we were,” she answers truthfully, not one to lie to her child.

“I miss him,” Madzie says, climbing in Catarina’s lap. “We haven’t gone to the Institute in weeks.”

“Alec’s been really busy, but I’ll call him to ask when we can come, alright?” Catarina tells her, grimacing a bit toward Magnus.

“He used to come here,” Madzie says wistfully. “It was more fun when Alec and Magnus played with me.”

“Madzie!” Catarina stops her. “We talked about this.”

Madzie bows her head and crosses her arms against her chest, sulking. In this moment, although she’s nothing like him, she reminds Magnus of young Max Lightwood the other day.

Maybe the truth really comes from the mouths of babes .

“It’s okay,” Magnus says. “Let her. You don’t need to tiptoe around me.”

“Tiptoe?” Madzie asks, tilting her head. She points to her feet in confusion.

“I mean that you can say anything you want to me,” Magnus explains.

“Mommy said we don’t talk about Alec with you,” Madzie frowns.

Magnus leans toward her. “Well now you’re allowed. Do you see him a lot?”

“Magnus,” Catarina warns.

Magnus waves a dismissing hand at her, and she frowns in annoyance.

“He was very sick,” Madzie explains seriously. “And his leg doesn’t work anymore. So I can’t jump in his arms. But he’s not sick anymore so we can see him more.”

“That’s very good,” Magnus nods.

Madzie saunters over and stomps right in front of him. “Magnus, why are you and Alec not together anymore?”

Magnus freezes. Catarina and Raphael seem to be holding their breath, and Madzie watches him with too much intensity for her young age – like she’s been waiting to ask that question for a long time. Why, indeed.

How does he explain to an eight-year-old that he chose to remove his memories of his...boyfriend, or whatever they were, and doesn’t remember why?

He stays silent for too long, and Catarina stands up. “Madzie, come on, leave Magnus alone for now. How about you go play with the cats upstairs?”

“No!” Madzie shouts. “I want to know!”

“Sweetie, I told you, Magnus and Alec don’t love each other anymore,” Catarina says with a sour look on her face, trying to take Madzie’s arm to guide her away.

Madzie pushes her off. “But Alec is always sad when we speak about Magnus!”

“You’ve been talking about him with Alec?” Catarina’s eyes widen, and Magnus can’t take his eyes off them.

“He tells me stories,” Madzie says quietly. “About the Downworlders and the Shadowhunters, so I can help us all make peace when I’m older. Magnus is in all of the stories. He always helps the people who don’t have anyone to take care of them.”

Magnus bows his head, his eyes suddenly filling with tears under the heavy gazes of his friends. Madzie grabs his hand and taps it until he looks up at her.

“I think maybe Alec needs help,” she whispers loudly.

*

I miss you, Magnus. I miss you more than I can say in words.

Everyone is walking on eggshells around me, and I keep wishing that you were here. I dream of you, and when I wake up, I have to remember all over again, every time. I envy you sometimes, for being free of this pain.

But I will never regret our time together.

Chapter Text

Dear Magnus,

I saw you today. You don’t remember me. I can’t—

*

Dear Magnus,

Today was both the sweetest and the most painful day I’ve had since Alicante. I’ve dreamed of coming back to the loft so many times, of showing up at your door and telling you everything, but I know now that I did the right thing. You kept staring at me with no recognition in your face, and it was agony, but it was the kind of agony that I would inflict on myself every day if it means seeing you happy, with your magic back. Seeing you use magic so effortlessly, even summoning an angel for us – that’s everything I wanted for you.

But it hurt, too. It hurt so much. It kept reminding me of the first time we really met, in your loft. We were there to get Clary’s memories back, just like today. You kept flirting with me so obviously, even as we stood over a pentagram to summon a demon, and I didn’t get it. I couldn’t see what you saw in me.

I still don’t, not really, but your gaze on me always made me better, stronger, bolder. Today it just made me want to cry.

*

The park isn’t crowded despite the warm weather, not at ten in the morning. The preschool children and their parents are gathered in the play space, and Magnus and Clary have settled at the opposite end, so the only people who come past them are joggers and a few elderly mundanes.

They had bought coffee and large cookies from a street vendor and then took over a bench, looking perfectly mundane but for the discreet muffling ward Magnus had extended around them. Clary looks radiant. Her hair cut is different, bangs falling over her eyes, and her skin, still devoid of any rune, is flushed with excitement.

Magnus watches her wave her hands, telling him some story involving her art school, Luke and a poor IT technician. She’s genuine and enthusiastic as always, but he can’t help wondering what she’s really thinking. She hugged him warmly when she first saw him and gave him that luminous smile of hers, but she’s so far carefully avoided any subject that could bring them back to the Shadowhunters. Magnus’ own contributions to the conversation have consisted of making noises in the right place.

His memories of Clary are jumbled and fuzzy. He recognizes her face, and her words and facial expressions echo other times in his head, but he struggles to connect them together into an ensemble. He remembers clearly erasing her memories at Jocelyn’s demand when she was a child, but past that, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the images he has of her in his loft, with Simon and Luke, no thread to follow. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, and that’s the most frustrating part.

“Magnus?”

“Sorry,” Magnus shakes himself out of his thoughts. He takes a sip of his latte to try to put up a front. “You were saying?”

“Just that your cookie is melting,” Clary frowns a little.

Magnus looks down and, sure enough, the chocolate chips of his cookie are spreading all over his fingers. He curses under his breath and magically cleans his hand. “Right, thank you.”

“You’re distracted,” Clary remarks.

“I’m sorry, biscuit,” Magnus tries to smile. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Clary bites her lip. “I wanted to thank you for doing the angel summoning,” she jumps in.

“It didn’t give you back your memories,” Magnus points out.

“No, but it gave Jace hope. Alec said it was the only thing that held him together.”

Magnus carefully doesn’t flinch at Alec’s name, even though the letters he read this morning are swimming in his mind. “Then I was glad to help,” he shrugs.

“You also healed Alec,” Clary states, her eyes searching for something Magnus isn’t sure he can give her.

Magnus tenses, reminding himself that Clary is as genuine as they come. She’s not trying to trick him. “It was within my abilities,” he says, a bit curtly. “I wasn’t going to let him die.”

“Before I lost my memories—” Clary pauses, hesitating. “We didn’t know what had happened between the two of you. He just told us that you’d broken up. I found out through Simon, just days before I killed Jonathan, that you’d...forgotten. He found out through Raphael. Do you really remember nothing?”

Magnus looks away, almost annoyed. Her question is fair, she’s in some of those memories. But admitting how much he’s missing – worse, admitting that he’s not sure he wants to stay that way – feels far too much like showing vulnerability.

“I remember what I need to,” he bristles.

“Magnus, it’s okay,” Clary gently lays a hand on his arm, and Magnus forces himself to stay still. “I don’t blame you. You’re my friend just as much as Alec, and I’m sad about what happened, but I’m not going to take sides. I love you no matter what.”

Magnus releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you. I don’t know what to do,” he sighs. “Now that I know who he is and some of what we had, I can’t get it out of my mind.”

“What do you want to do?” Clary asks with a compassionate smile.

“I don’t even know. I erased those memories for a reason. I’ve lost a lot of people, biscuit. Some losses hurt so much that...that you find yourself standing on the railing of a bridge in the middle of the night. I don’t think I can live through that again.”

Clary tilts her head. “Even if it gives you a chance at something better?”

“I think I’m tired of taking chances and getting hurt again and again.”

Clary doesn’t immediately answer, taking a bite of her cookie. “When I lost my mom, I was ready to do anything to get her back, to make the pain go away. I dragged Alec with me and it nearly ended in disaster, and I didn’t get her back. I wanted to swear off ever loving anyone again, because it hurt so much. And then Jace died, and I did it all over again.”

“Jace died?”

“It’s a long story, and it didn’t last. What I mean is, maybe I’m just a twenty-two-year-old not-even-a-Shadowhunter and I don’t have your life experience, but love is always worth it.”

Your gaze on me always made me better, stronger, bolder. That’s what Alec’s been telling Magnus in his letters, too.

“What do you think I should do, biscuit?” he asks.

Clary shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think...I think I know what I would do, but I’ve been told often enough that I’m impulsive and look where it landed me. So, you’re right to be careful. It’s just that the entire thing makes me so sad. What you and Alec had was…relationship goals. It was beautiful. And it ended so fast.”

Magnus closes his eyes, the pain in his chest real even though it has no memory anchor. He debates asking Clary what exactly broke them up, but he’s not sure she knows, and he hasn’t finished reading the letters yet. He’s forced himself to go through them slowly, burying himself in work instead so he doesn’t have time to obsess over them. It’s been over two weeks now since he stole them – there’s no other word for it, if he’s honest with himself – from Alec’s office. Two weeks since he’s last seen Alec, and the Shadowhunter’s face is etched into his eyelids.

“Whatever happened,” Clary says softly, “it was really fast. You two were fine a couple days before the battle of Alicante. I don’t know, is it possible that you made that decision too fast because you were hurting?”

Magnus startles a bit at that and opens his eyes again to look at her. “Or maybe it was just that unbearable,” he says, trying to fit that information into the puzzle of his missing memories. “Besides, Alec’s probably moved on by now. It’s been what, nine months?”

Even he doesn’t completely believe it, not when he’s seen the pain in Alec’s eyes whenever he looks at Magnus.

“I doubt that,” Clary confirms. “I don’t he can move on. I’ve been told that Nephilim only love once and I don’t really believe that, but if someone fits into that stereotype, it’s Alec.”

Magnus swallows, the weight on his chest settling and shifting until it’s a little suffocating. He doesn’t know what to do with that, the responsibility that takes him at the throat every time he tries really hard not to think about Alec’s hollowed eyes and the way he stepped away from Magnus, as if it physically hurt him to do so.

“You’ll figure it out,” Clary says softly, as if she can see him panicking. “You always do.”

Magnus seriously doubts that.

*

I’ve never been as scared as the times I thought I might lose you. Even now, my own death feels inconsequential compared to that terror. I can console myself with knowing that you’re out there somewhere, that you’re happy, that you’re not gone. You’re just...out of my reach.

The day of the Soul Sword massacre, I ran around looking for you for hours, and I thought for sure that I was going to find your body lying there somewhere. It would have been my fault. It was my fault.

I feel like our relationship has been full of those moments, of horror and pain and heartbreak, and most of that is because I’m a Shadowhunter. You might never have gotten involved, or at least not to this extent, if we’d never met.

Some days I hate myself for bringing you all that pain.

Some days I hate myself more for wishing that you were at my side now to share the weight with me. I would never wish any pain on you, Magnus.

I just feel so lost.

*

“We’re done with the mission debrief,” Alec says to the assembled Shadowhunters. He raises a hand to stop them from dispersing. “However, I have an announcement to make. You all know that I’m going to be leaving the Institute two weeks from now to work in the Consul’s office.” Several of his Shadowhunters nod, and Izzy holds Alec’s gaze, smiling at him encouragingly. “I’ve started to hand over casework and most of my responsibilities to Isabelle, who will be taking over in my absence. I have made the decision to accelerate the process and step down a little early. As of today, I am on extended leave.”

The Shadowhunters in the room are too well trained to let any reaction show in their posture, but Alec can see eyes widen. He tightens his grip on his cane, missing the ability to stand on parade rest with his hands behind his back. He doesn’t know what to do with his other hand, and it hangs aimlessly at his side, itching to fidget with a loose thread in his sleeve.

“Izzy and Jens are now in charge of all current affairs,” he continues, forcing his voice to keep steady. “Izzy will be Acting Head until the Inquisitor nomination, and then either she will be named Head or you’ll be grumbling about my orders again. I will remain in the Institute for the next two weeks to make the transition as smooth as possible, but you should go to them for anything mission related,” he finishes, gesturing toward Izzy at his side. “Dismissed.”

He sighs internally as the Shadowhunters disperse, some looking a little bewildered. He will have to make that announcement at least twice more for the other shifts. He’s already filled in the paperwork for the transfer of power. Since this morning, he’s officially on vacation.

He has no intention of actually taking a vacation. Izzy, Jace and Jens, helped along by Aline and Helen, have been hounding him about taking some time off before he has to report to Alicante, to focus on his mental health. Alec privately thinks that being left alone with his thoughts is the last thing he needs, but he relented and took a whole two weeks, the longest time off he’s had since becoming an active duty Shadowhunter at age twelve.

He has no idea what he’s going to do with himself.

“Alec?” Izzy prompts him, putting a hand on his arm, and Alec realizes that he’s briefly zoned out. Most of the Shadowhunters have left the room or regained their post, leaving only a few of them at the bottom of the stairs. Alec shakes himself and limps down to the floor level.

Jace is dressed in full tactical gear, ready to spearhead his team into the field to get rid of a nest in the basement of a Queens building. Izzy gives Alec one last concerned look and heads up to Jace to give him his final orders.

Alec waves them off and turns to Jens. “You think Izzy’s ready?” he asks.

Jens gives him a slightly amused look, though he doesn’t break his parade rest. “No. But she will be, or she’ll realize that she’s not made for the job and we’ll find someone else. And in the meantime I’ll steer the ship.”

“I don’t doubt you for a second, I hope you know that,” Alec says, letting his fondness for his mentor transpire through his voice. “I wish I could hand you the title along with the reins.”

Jens has neither the last name nor the field experience the Clave requires of an Institute Head, even though he’s far more qualified than anyone else. He’s taught Alec everything he knows about administration and politics, when his parents didn’t bother to tutor him before leaving him with the entire Institute to run at sixteen.

“You know I don’t want that kind of spotlight anyway. Besides, I’d much rather watch your sister try to handle Goldstream and the other Clave buffoons than do it myself.”

“Fair enough,” Alec smirks. “Just don’t let her undo all the progress we made. Speaking of that,” he turns to get the attention of the other Shadowhunters remaining in the room, “Underhill, Blackthorn, Svec, can I have a word with you three?”

Andrew and Helen frown briefly at each other but they immediately stand at attention. “My office,” Alec indicates, and Kara slips to his side as he starts walking toward the corridor, the other two following them. Jens comes with them up to his own office, the room adjacent to Alec’s.

Alec opens his office with a swipe of his stele and sits down on one of the sofas, setting his cane down beside him. He lets the three Shadowhunters choose where to sit, simply waving them in. Since he’s clearly set the mood as casual with his first move, they don’t hesitate to relax. Underhill takes a chair, Helen sits down on the other sofa and Kara perches herself on the armrest at the opposite end of Alec’s sofa.

“One of the reasons why Jia wants me in Alicante so soon,” Alec starts, “is that there is a law being voted on in two months that I sponsored. She wants me to lobby the Council to get it passed.”

None of them outright asks what it has to do with them, but the question is on their face. “You sponsored a law?” Underhill tries.

“Along with Aline, actually,” Alec turns to Helen, whose eyes widen in understanding. “We’ve been working on it for over a year, in between everything.”

“What is it about?” Kara asks, a little bewildered.

“Anti-discrimination,” Alec says, letting himself smile. “Specifically for LGBT+ people. If it passes, it should guarantee full equality under Clave laws.”

Kara’s face lights up immediately. At sixteen, she’s already far too aware of how the law can work in her disfavor and oppress her. “Really?”

“Aline’s been obsessed with this ever since the marriage law finally passed last year,” Helen says. “But I didn’t know it was so close to being voted on.”

Alec nods. The marriage equality law, the first Clave law proposal he co-signed, passed just a few weeks before he asked his mother for the Lightwood ring. It legalized both same-sex and inter-species marriages in the same swoop, and Alec never even got the chance to tell Magnus about it, because it was the day he collapsed in this very office from magical poisoning.

He tries not to think about the ring still in his drawer, about his crushed dreams.

“Just over two months,” he says to cover his momentary lapse. “The reason I asked you here is because I’m trying to assemble a folder of testimonies about those discriminations. Most of the council has barely met a queer person before, and they have no real idea what it’s like. So if any of you wants to write or record something, it would be really helpful. This is entirely voluntary, of course, I’m not asking you as your Head.”

“I’ll do it,” Underhill says immediately. “I will always owe you for paving the way for us. And the way you’ve been helping with Lorenzo—”

Alec shakes his head. “Don’t do it for me. Do it for her,” he nods toward Kara. “For all the kids who will follow. For yourself.”

Kara swallows, looking between them with wide eyes, and Underhill nods. “Of course,” he smiles just a little. “You’re right.”

“Aline and I were already planning to write a letter to the council, but this is even better,” Helen says. “We can make a video, with those who want from the support group, maybe even ask around at the wedding. Aline has a bunch of queer friends coming from other Institutes.”

“That would be amazing,” Alec nods. As Kara keeps hesitating, he turns to her. “We all get it if you’re not ready,” he tells her, scooting over to sit closer to her. “You don’t need to hurt yourself over this, okay? We’ll have plenty of people already.”

Kara bites her lip. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. I’m still here for the next two weeks, and then I’ll be one text away. Come to me if you need help, okay? I’m on vacation now, so we can write something together if you want.”

“Thank you,” Kara smiles weakly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That reminds me,” Alec hauls himself up off the sofa and grabs his cane. “On a slightly lighter note, I have something for you.”

He makes his way to his desk and grabs a delicately decorated china bowl – a gift from Magnus, he remembers with a pang. “We all have to wear our uniforms to the wedding, except for Helen of course, but I thought it would be a good place to wear those, if you want to.” He extends his arm to show them the dozens of tiny pride flag enamel pins in the bowl. Kara’s eyes immediately go round and she claps her hands excitedly, forgetting all about decorum. Alec smiles at her fondly.

“You can grab yours and distribute them to whoever you think might want them, since we won’t have another meeting until the wedding.”

Kara takes the bowl from Alec’s hand and starts going through the pins, while Underhill sobers. The next meeting of his queer support group for the Institute personnel, which Alec attends whenever he can, should have been on the day of Lorenzo’s trial. They have less than a week left and it’s not looking good at all. They still have no idea who framed Lorenzo, and it’s looking like the Inquisitor is going to try to make an example out of him. Magnus is trying to build him a solid defense, but it might not be enough.

Magnus. Alec hasn’t seen him, though he has come to the Institute several times to talk with Lorenzo or with Jace, who is heading the investigation. Underhill passed along that Magnus requested a meeting as part of his price for helping, but he has yet to contact Alec with a time and place.

Thinking of him hurts. As the days until Helen and Aline’s wedding and Alec’s departure for Alicante tick by, it’s like the weight on his chest gets heavier. It’s not the sharp pain it was at the beginning, the one that woke him up at night and felt like being stabbed over and over, it’s duller now, a constant ache deep inside him. One that isn’t going to go away.

There is no moving on from Magnus, not for Alec. The best he can hope for is that the pain will ease with time. He prays that it will be easier when he’s not surrounded by reminders anymore. Alicante will be a breath of fresh air, a chance to start over.

He wants this.

Right?

*

The venom is progressing faster than we thought. Catarina thinks it’s probably because of the angel summoning.

I’m scared of what will happen to Jace and Izzy when I’m gone. Izzy’s strong, but she never really lost anyone before we lost Dad, and she’s taking it the hardest out of us all. Jace lost Clary already, and I’m afraid that he’s going to lose himself. I felt him die, once. The pain is unbearable, and I only had to live with it for an hour.

They will have each other, and Mom and even Max, but… It’s horribly selfish of me, but I keep wishing that I could ask you to look over them.

Here. You’re never going to read this, anyway, so I can say this. I wish you were here, Magnus. I wish that you were the last face I’ll see before I die. I wish you could hold me in your arms and tell me that everything will be okay.

I wish I could kiss you right now, and tell you how much I love you.

*

“Alexander,” Magnus murmurs, tears streaming down his face. The guilt gnaws at him. He’s told himself so far that the letters are addressed to him, that he didn’t really steal them since they have his name on the envelopes, but now Alec is acknowledging directly that he never intended for him to read them.

Experiencing these emotions almost second-hand is confusing. It feels a little like reading fiction, some really heart-wrenching epistolary novel maybe, and yet it’s also brutal in ways Magnus struggles to comprehend. He can too easily imagine Alec, pale and thin at his desk, painstakingly trying to still his trembling hands enough to write.

Magnus feels like he knows him, through the letters. The picture Alec painted of their relationship is everything Magnus ever dreamed of, even with the heartbreaks and the rough times – everything he’d convinced himself he could never have.

How did he give up on it? How did it turn so sour that he would choose to forget the best thing to happen to him in centuries?

He’s almost at the end of the letters. He feels like Alec talked about everything – except the end. He references it many times, but he never says what actually happened. Magnus can’t make sense of it. If he could lie to himself before, it’s very clear now that Alec didn’t break them up because he didn’t want Magnus anymore, so why?

More and more, he just wants to open the memory box, take them all back. He yearns for it, to finally fill the holes in his mind and – hopefully – in his heart. But he can’t just do that. Clary seemed certain that Alec hasn’t moved on, but even taking his memories back isn’t going to erase the past months for either of them.

And he could discover something horrific inside. Something that would justify Magnus erasing them in the first place. That would justify the fact that Alec has never once tried to talk to him about it, even though it’s hurting him so obviously.

I think maybe Alec needs help.

Magnus closes his eyes tight against the memory of Madzie’s face, earnest and innocent. He angrily wipes his face dry with his sleeve and curses when it comes back stained with makeup. He needs to be at the Institute in less than an hour to work with Lorenzo on his defense, he does not have time to be crying his eyes out.

He calls Catarina without thinking about it first. She’s probably at work at this hour, but she answers on the second ring, her voice as kind as always.

“I don’t know what to do,” Magnus says.

He grimaces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. It’s becoming a leitmotiv, lately, like he’s almost hanging on to his indecision instead of taking the bull by the horns. He’s not usually like that.

“About what?” Catarina asks, and Magnus realizes his selfishness. When was the last time he really asked Catarina how she was? He knows that taking care of Madzie isn’t easy, not while also working full time at the hospital and offering her healing services to most of the New York Downworld. And here he is, complaining about his own life.

“Alec,” he still answers, because he’s started now. He promises himself to rectify this at the earliest chance, and maybe offer to babysit Madzie to redeem himself.

Catarina stays silent for a moment, then, “Don’t listen to Madzie. She doesn’t understand, she’s just really empathetic and she’s sad that Alec is sad.” She takes a breath. “I’ll be honest with you, this boy does need help, but not your help. He needs therapy. Or at least someone to really talk to.”

“But he’s in this state because of me, isn’t he?” Magnus sighs.

“Magnus,” Catarina says sternly. “You’re not responsible for him. Whatever happened, it hurt you badly enough that you needed to protect yourself in such a drastic way. Don’t forget that. Alec’s pain is not your fault, and it’s not on you to ease it, unless you want to.”

“But I do want to,” Magnus breathes. The admission feels like a weight lifting from his shoulder, and yet it is acrid on his tongue. He’s carried it in secret for weeks, if not months, the knowledge inside him that he’s already fallen back in love with Alec. That maybe he’s never stopped, that his body remembers it like muscle memory.

He hasn’t told anyone, because it all feels wrong. Unfair. There is no good choice here. The wise thing to do would be to put it all behind him, destroy the memory box and the letters and let Alec go for good. He should be capable of it. He barely knows Alec, after all. The man Alec loved, the man he wrote these letters to, is not Magnus.

Or he can plunge into the unknown and absorb the memories back into his mind.

The idea terrifies him. It terrifies him how much he wants to do it, in the way that he’s only ever wanted the things that hurt him the most. This is the intensity with which he once wanted Camille.

This is the same despair he once held in his heart, sixty feet above the black waters of the Thames.

In whispers, unable to keep it in anymore, he tells Catarina as much as he dares. She listens without a word, only soft noises of compassion.

“There is a third option,” she points out gently when he’s done. “If you’re scared of taking your memories back, maybe you could…learn to know him again? Just start over?”

Magnus sighs. “That can’t possibly be fair to him.”

“Not everything has to be fair, Magnus. It would be his decision whether to try or not, of course, and you’d need to make sure that he’s not doing it because he hopes for something that won’t happen, but...it’s an option.”

Magnus is still trying to process this when he follows Underhill inside the Institute half an hour later. The ops center is busy, and Magnus feels jumpy, his skin as raw as his mind. He glances around constantly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alec. He almost bounces out of the path of a Shadowhunter who brushes past him.

And then, right as the elevator doors start to close on him and Underhill, he sees Alec at the other end of the corridor, his back to them, leaning down over his cane to talk to his little brother.

The rush of emotions is unexpected and brutal. It’s a wave of yearning and fear mixed, of unnamed aching that tears at his chest. Magnus chokes a little, enough that Underhill frowns and follows his line of sight. His eyes widen when he spots Alec.

The elevator starts moving, and Magnus swallows back the bile in his throat. Underhill thankfully doesn’t say anything, though he watches Magnus consideringly. Magnus internally squirms under his gaze and tries to regain control of his emotions before they get to the third basement level where Lorenzo is being kept.

They bypass the glass cell in the middle, which is empty at the moment as it’s only meant to be used for interrogations and temporary holding, and walk over to the rows of standard cells behind it. They at least afford prisoners a modicum of privacy, and a decent bed. Lorenzo is by no means held in luxury quarters, but he’s treated correctly in a way that Magnus doubts any Downworlder would have been before Alec became the Head of the Institute.

Underhill nods to a guard, who draws a series of runes on the door of Lorenzo’s cell to open it. He explained early on to Magnus that while he has been allowed to see his boyfriend regularly, the obvious conflict of interest means that he’s not allowed to operate the cell himself, or to be part of any transfer.

Magnus steps through the doorway and shivers as he feels the magic always flowing just under his skin suddenly shrink back into his body. The rune wards are strong and unforgiving. He couldn’t make a spark right now if he wanted to.

He absolutely hates it.

Lorenzo doesn’t look nearly as sharp as he usually does. There are bags under his eyes, and his outfit is reduced to a black shirt and a pair of sweatpants, which Magnus suspects belong to Underhill. Beside him, the Shadowhunter makes a small gesture toward Lorenzo, like an aborted wave – the most demonstrative he’s allowed himself to be in front of Magnus, in two weeks of visits.

It’s a routine by now. Lorenzo shakes Magnus’ hand and sits back down on his bed, while Magnus takes the single chair. Underhill stands by the door, his hands behind his back in a posture that keeps reminding Magnus of Alec.

The mood is darker every time. As the days until the trial trickle down, the chances of Lorenzo getting out of this get lower and lower. If he’s convicted of conspiring to attack the Institute, as a warlock, he’s unlikely to escape the death sentence. In the last few visits, Magnus has discovered a new Lorenzo, far from the arrogant, self-serving bastard he’s always known. It may be Underhill’s presence at their meetings, or simply that Lorenzo is losing hope and with it his legendary poise, but he’s been...almost nice.

“I’m afraid my last avenue of recourse has failed,” Magnus begins. He’s hit a wall after another. The Shadowhunters captured in the attack didn’t know anything about their employer – and, of course, they will be punished far less severely than Lorenzo, when push comes to shove. Magnus has tried everything to figure out which warlock got through the wards, but none of his efforts have proven fruitful. From the signature he found on the scene, he’s reduced the list to twelve warlocks, which he’s given to Jace, but they don’t have enough evidence to accuse any of them.

“Then I suppose this is over,” Lorenzo says, his jaw set tightly. He’s looking up at Underhill as he says it, and there’s something eerily vulnerable to him in that moment.

“It’s not over until you stand on the pyre,” Magnus asserts. “I’m not giving up yet. But I admit that I’ve reached the end of my abilities here.”

“Herondale’s team is still looking,” Underhill says. “They could find something, but time’s running out.”

Magnus averts his eyes, trying to avoid betraying his lack of hope. He stares at his hands in his lap while Lorenzo and Underhill exchange a long look that says more than words. When Magnus looks back up, Lorenzo straightens and lifts his chin.

“What options do we have left?” he asks, resolute. Magnus doesn’t know how much of that is bravado, but he nods firmly and starts walking him through what he thinks will be their best defense at the trial. It’s flimsy at best – or rather, it would hold against a mundane court, but it will almost certainly crumble before the Inquisitor of the Clave – but it’s a start.

“At the very least, it might gain us time, even if you’re convicted,” he finishes his explanation. “You’re still a High Warlock. The Clave hasn’t been good at taking Downworlder appeals into account in the past, but if the Spiral Council calls for one, they’ll have to listen.”

“They’ll definitely have to listen if the Head of the New York Institute calls for an appeal,” Underhill says. “Lightwood will fight with us.”

Magnus feels a pang at the reminder of Alec, whom he’d almost succeeded at getting out of his head for a moment.

“I’m not the High Warlock anymore,” Lorenzo points out, his voice regaining some of his usual aplomb. “Or I won’t be, once the trial is over. It was part of your price that I step down, remember?”

“Right,” Magnus nods. He’d actually forgotten. Somehow this part of the bargain took second place to the one he asked of Alec – the meeting he still hasn’t cashed in.

“It shouldn’t be a problem for you to get reelected now, since you’ve gotten back in everyone’s good graces. I don’t think they ever liked me much.”

Magnus grimaces. He’s pieced together what happened to make him lose the position in the first place by now, and he doesn’t know what to think about it. It’s not a good look on him, that’s for sure. “How did you end up getting the High Warlock position in the first place?” he asks Lorenzo, a little saltily.

“I’m just this charming, Bane,” Lorenzo drawls. There’s still an edge to his haughtiness that hadn’t been there, before. “I guess they wanted a change from you.”

There’s no real heat behind his words. Where their relationship used to be nothing but mutual annoyance and rivalry, it has turned into something complicated. Something Magnus isn’t sure he likes. There’s an underlying sadness in the way Lorenzo and Underhill both look at him that he wants to rip off their faces.

“Look at us now,” he mutters without thinking. “How far we’ve fallen. Entangled with Nephilim, of all people,” he punctuates his words with an eyebrow raised toward Underhill, who huffs softly. “How did you two even meet?”

“The Downworld Cabinet,” Underhill explains. “Alec had me replace him with Jens when he was in the hospital.”

“That Nephilim of yours occasionally has taste in who he chooses as his lieutenants,” Lorenzo smirks. “Although those siblings of his are annoying.”

“Careful, Jace is the one in charge of the investigation,” Underhill smiles. “You don’t want to make an enemy of him.”

“I assure you, our dislike is mutual and perfectly cordial.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Magnus grumbles. “Alexander is not my Nephilim, though.”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes. “Come on, Bane. I know you’re a dramatic bastard, but isn’t it time to stop this charade?”

Magnus frowns. “What?”

“That kid’s waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and you’re just flaunting your drama in his face. You’ve gotta make up your mind, Bane. Either get your memories back or do him a favor and disappear from his life.”

“Lorenzo—” Underhill starts warningly as Magnus sputters, too shocked to answer. How did this conversation go from the trial to his personal issues so fast? And why the hell is Lorenzo Rey sticking his nose in them?

“That is rich coming from the man who apparently forbade all the warlocks in the city from helping me when I needed it, leading to this entire mess!”

It’s another thing that Magnus has pieced together, that the loss of his magic – which Alec explained in his letters – is what led to whatever happened between them. And according to both Alec and Catarina, Lorenzo had a part to play in that.

“Yes, you lost your magic because I refused to help you,” Lorenzo admits without hesitation. “You were all high and mighty, lording over everyone like it was your birth right even after you’d been demoted. I was glad, at first, to see the prodigal son taken down a peg, that you were learning that your power doesn’t solve everything.” He says this without heat, and it drives his words straight into Magnus in a way no anger or resentment ever could.

Magnus shakes his head. “Power has never solved anything, Lorenzo. Power is a curse and a drug, and it destroys you.”

“I know. Watching you, afterwards… watching your friends rally around you, I didn’t expect that. When your body rejected my magic transfusion, Lightwood begged me to help you. I didn’t understand what could bring a Nephilim, the Head of the Institute, so low as to beg a warlock. But that was before I met Andrew.” He pauses. “I still don’t like you, Bane. But even I can recognize when the punishment has overpowered the offense. You don’t deserve this, and neither does he. He’s actually a decent man, for a Nephilim.”

“This isn’t punishment,” Magnus remarks. “He broke up with me, didn’t he?”

Lorenzo smirks, then shakes his head, sighing. “This whole thing is so sad that I can’t even bask in knowing things you don’t know, Bane. That’s how low you’ve brought me.”

Even Underhill shifts in surprise, and Magnus stares at Lorenzo. “What do you know?”

Lorenzo stares back, his gaze serious. “I know the Lightwood boy is incapable of being selfish. There’s no way he broke up with you while you were down with your magic gone unless he had a very good reason.”

Magnus frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think it can possibly be a coincidence that your father happened to be summoned topside within a day of that? Or that he gave you your magic back for free?”

Chapter Text

The weeks before Alec leaves for Alicante almost feel like a dream, removed from his reality. He hasn’t taken time off voluntarily in so long that he doesn’t know what to do with it. He tries to spend as much time as possible with his family before he leaves them behind, especially his mother who won’t be able to come visit him in Idris, but he too often finds himself lost in his own head.

There are good days. Alec tries to bask in the naked happiness coming from Jace without feeling too jealous of his and Clary’s renewed love. He has passionate debates with Jia on the Inclusion Laws coming up for a vote in the Council and he comes back to New York feeling invigorated. He sees Izzy or Helen or Kara thriving and pride swells in his chest.

Most days are a mix of good and bad. He tries not to think too hard about how his baseline has shifted, how managing to get out of bed feels like a small victory. Most days the pain in his leg only really slows him down in the evening. Most days he can sit at his desk and be productive for a few hours at a time without losing himself in thoughts of Magnus.

Today is not a good day.

Every little task feels like a chore. Alec’s leg hurts and his Painless rune has been overcharged for hours, barely taking the edge off. He’s sitting on a chair at the back of his mother’s shop, where the shelves give room to the bookbinding counter, and he’s just trying to… hang on.

Maryse has been gleefully introducing him to her regular clients, most of them old mundanes who peer at the even older books over wire-rimmed spectacles and comment on how young and strong he looks, frowning a little at his cane like he’s too young to need one. Alec knows that the shop caters to the Downworld as well, but the only Downworlder he’s seen was a warlock from somewhere in South America who came to fetch a package and barely gave him a glance.

Maryse has truly become a mundane, blending in with ease, dating a werewolf. Everything that she once despised. Alec watches her with some admiration, impressed at how comparatively easy her transition has been. Her shop is successful, and she no longer has the shadows of her past in her eyes, as long as no one brings up her mistakes. She has Max over on his days off and she cooks for him and takes him to the movies and the manga conventions he’s so passionate about.

She worries about them, Alec knows. It seems like she worries more now than she ever did when they were children. The months he spent dying from the Pervious venom were hell on all of them, but if one good thing came out of it, it was that it brought their family together in a way it never was before. Maryse isn’t going to win any mother-of-the-year award but she does her best to support her children in everything they do.

“You’re hurting,” she says suddenly, and it rips Alec out of his thoughts. She’s looking up at him instead of the book she’s rebinding, the shop currently empty of clients. “I can tell, you know.”

“I’m fine,” Alec grumbles.

“Alec,” Maryse sighs. “You don’t have to pretend for my sake. I know we have plans for tonight, but you’ve got a long day tomorrow, so if you need to go back to the Institute and rest, I would understand.”

Alec stares ahead rather than at her, trying to bore a hole into the shelf. He hates that she’s right. He’s done nothing today but come here and sit, and somehow that’s a strain. The trial tomorrow is going to be brutal if he hasn’t gotten some proper sleep before then, and sleep doesn’t come easily.

“Max is going to hate me,” he mutters.

“No, he won’t. He understands. He wants you to be okay more than he wants to watch a movie with you.”

Alec digs his fingers into his thigh, unsuccessfully trying to massage the pain away. He hates that even Max can tell that he’s not doing well. He hates worrying them all. Wasn’t it enough that they lived for months in mourning, waiting for him to die? Do they now have to see him struggle to live?

They would be better off without him.

The thoughts are familiar and persistent. Alec had a moment, a short window of time – a half-year, maybe, with Magnus – when they were gone. Not long enough to notice that they were gone, not before he was right back there – Magnus would have been better off if he’d never met Alec, he would still have his magic, he would be happy – but long enough to learn that they’re not true.

It’s a fine line, these days, one that Alec toes like a tightrope walker. On bad days, it’s hard to remember that his brain is tricking him, to remember the things that Magnus taught him to hold onto. The thoughts are a habit, familiar neural pathways that his brain takes because it’s easy. It’s easy to think that his existence is worthless, because if it is, then he doesn’t have a responsibility to those he loves. He doesn’t have to carry the burden of making his choices if he’s always one step away from the ledge of that balcony. And his choices are heavy.

“Alec.”

Alec starts and realizes that he’s zoned out on whatever his mother was saying.

“Sorry,” he sighs.

Maryse stands up and comes to crouch beside him. Alec keeps fidgeting, uncomfortable. He feels simultaneously like a small child and a failure when she looks at him like this. She knows what he was just thinking, and somehow, after years of dismissing his individuality until he had no self-worth left, she cares.

“Alec, look at me.”

Alec looks up, somewhere over her shoulder. He knows she doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t have the energy to maintain eye contact.

“We love you,” she says. “I want you to take care of yourself.”

“I know,” Alec murmurs. “I just… it’s hard, right now.”

Maryse cups his neck, with more tenderness than she’s shown Alec in his whole childhood. He wants to resent her for that, but he finds that he doesn’t even have that much energy.

“Do you want to talk about it? Is it going to Alicante? Or the trial?”

Alec bites his lip. “I don’t know. I—we still don’t have enough to get Lorenzo off the hook, and I can’t let him be convicted. And…” he hesitates. “Magnus is going to be there.”

Maryse closes her eyes, still stroking his cheek with her thumb. “My boy,” she murmurs. “Do you really have to go?”

“I have to testify,” Alec says, staring down at his knees again. “And I can’t do that to Andrew. They need me.”

“Alec, isn’t it time to tell Magnus about the deal you made? Izzy told me he’s been asking questions.”

Alec’s throat knots up so much that he feels like throwing up. He never told Maryse about the deal, not in so many words, but she put it together herself. She knows, like his siblings, and they’ve respected his wish to leave Magnus alone so far, but they keep asking him, they keep pushing. Like they’re still waiting for Magnus to… what, hear about the deal and immediately take back his memories? For some kind of fairytale ending, a happy ever after that would solve everything?

It doesn’t work like that. Oh, Magnus probably has access to the memories he erased, one way or another, because he’s not foolish enough to erase them completely. He’s a leader of his people, wise with hundreds of years of experience, he would know the dangers of ignorance. But it doesn’t matter. Magnus may not be gone, he may be just a few miles away, but what made them them, Magnus-and-Alec, that’s gone forever. It disappeared with the part of Alec that he left with Magnus, the day he broke up with him, right here in Maryse’s shop.

He can still see it, in his minds’ eye. Their last kiss, the way Magnus tried to hold him back. You’re not this selfish. He was wrong. Alec is selfish. He’s selfish enough that he can’t completely let Magnus go. He’s selfish enough that he’s running to Alicante and abandoning his Institute because it’s easier than facing him. But he won’t be the cause of his suffering ever again.

There is no waiting for Magnus to come to his senses and get his memories back. Alec was just a blink-and-it’s-gone moment in Magnus’ existence, a deleted footnote, and it’s for the best.

He just needs enough time to make his peace with that.

“Mom, I need you to stop bringing that up.” He tries to be assertive, but his voice breaks in the middle, and he just sounds pathetic. “Magnus is gone, and I need to move on. Please respect that.”

Maryse makes a choking sound and looks away as her eyes fill with tears. However much she hated Magnus at the start, he made his way into their family, and Alec knows that they all miss him. It was another loss on top of so much grief, and he can hardly resent them for mourning him – or for mourning the son and brother that they lost along with him. But he doesn’t have the strength to shoulder their grief on top of his anymore.

“Alright, I will,” Maryse whispers. “I’m sorry, Alec. I love you, and I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know,” Alec murmurs. On the table beside him, his phone starts ringing before he can say any more. “It’s Jace,” he says, glancing at the screen.

With a small, teary nod, Maryse stands back up and steps away, giving him privacy. Alec takes the call and brings the phone to his ear.

“Alec, I think I’ve got it,” Jace doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Proof that Lorenzo is being framed.”

Alec straightens. “Really?” He’s been waiting for this call for weeks, but he’d lost hope that it would ever come.

“Yes, but I need you to get me through to Jia directly. And quickly.”

“I’m at Mom’s shop,” Alec says. “I’ll call Gabby, I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

“We’ll be waiting for you.”

Jace has hung up before Alec has time to move. He calls his driver quickly to ask him to come pick him up, and looks up at Maryse, who is pretending not to watch him from behind her counter. “I have to go,” he says. “It’s for the trial tomorrow.”

Maryse nods. “I’ll tell Max. Don’t overwork yourself, alright?”

“I’ll try,” Alec shrugs.

He’s not in any less pain, but hope makes everything a little more colorful, a little more alive. If they can get Lorenzo out of this, then at least he can leave the Institute in peace.

*

Alec tiredly looks up as Jens knocks on the open door of his office.

“Sir, Magnus is here,” Jens says with a worried frown.

Massaging his temples, Alec looks around him. Jace and Clary are half-asleep on the couch, entangled with each other, and Izzy is sitting in an armchair, bleary-eyed, staring at her tablet. Alec himself isn’t in a much better state at his desk, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. It’s five in the morning, the trial starts in three hours and they’ve been up all night working. Alec knows he’s going to collapse once this is done.

He fire-messaged Magnus fifteen minutes ago to tell him that they had news, because Magnus needs to know before the trial starts and Alec has only now managed to get all the information they need.

“Give us a minute,” he says to Jens. “And get Underhill in here as well.”

Jens nods formally and walks back out. Alec feels a swell of gratitude for this man who always knows when to obey his orders and when to speak his mind. Alec is still the Head of the Institute, even when he’s technically on vacation, even when he’s this sleep-deprived – something that his siblings regularly forget.

“You okay?” Izzy asks him before yawning widely.

Alec hums something meant to sound like a yes, straightening in his chair, but he has to bite back a groan when his leg immediately seizes up. He stays very still for a moment, trying to ride out the pain. Fuck. Magnus is going to be here in seconds and he’s not going to be able to stand up.

He hikes up the hem of his shirt and traces Painless and Heat runes on his side, as close as he can get to his hip without moving. The immediate warmth helps his muscles loosen, but not anywhere near enough. That’s what he gets for pulling an all-nighter on top of a particularly bad day.

Jace, Clary and Izzy all stand up when Jens comes back with Underhill and Magnus in tow. The sight of Magnus, already perfectly put together, wearing an overly expensive burgundy suit and a polka-dot tie, makes Alec’s insides ache.

They haven’t seen each other since the day Alec told Magnus that he was leaving. He’s grateful that Magnus respected that, but he has missed him – not just his Magnus, the one his heart hurts for day in and day out, but also this Magnus who doesn’t know him. Who still has the same beautiful soul, just without Alec in it. He reminds Alec of the very early days of their relationship, when Magnus was blatantly flirting with him over summoning circles and late night drinks.

The thought is like a punch to his chest.

Because there is no second chance for them. There won’t be another first kiss in the middle of a wedding. Magnus already gave Alec so many second chances, starting with that day – You have a choice to make, Alexander. I will not ask again. After Alec tried to marry Lydia. After Alec almost executed Magnus in Valentine’s body. After the Soul Sword disaster. And again, and again, and again. Magnus gave up everything that mattered to him for Alec.

And now he isn’t in a position to give any more chances.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, formally but almost softly, ignoring everyone else in the room.

Alec couldn’t take his eyes off him if he wanted to. He nods once, his words escaping him, and gestures for everyone to take a seat.

“Thank you for coming,” he manages after swallowing several times. “I know the timing is not good, but you need to hear this.”

He grabs his cane and makes to stand to join the others in the sitting area of his office. His hip screams as he moves, but he bites back the pain and grits his teeth through the few steps between his desk chair and the comfortable armchair Jens has automatically reserved for him.

They are all staring at him when he looks back up, with various levels of concern in their gazes. Alec winces internally and squirms to find a semi-comfortable position.

“Jace,” he prompts. “Your case.”

“Right,” Jace nods, straightening immediately. At least he hasn’t forgotten that they’re in a work meeting, even if he keeps giving him side glances. Alec checks that his end of the parabatai bond is as tightly shut as always. He has no wish to make Jace endure his pain and discomfort.

Magnus keeps looking at Alec, too, even as Jace opens his mouth. There’s something undefinable in his gaze, like an open question, an alien sort of wonder. Alec doesn’t know what to do with it, or how to keep his heart from beating so fast in his chest that it hurts.

“Yesterday evening, we caught the warlock who breached the wards,” Jace says, and Magnus immediately focuses on him, his eyes widening.

“How?”

“It was Izzy’s idea,” Jace explains, gesturing to Izzy to take over.

“I figured, the warlock who did this had to have cased the place,” Izzy starts. “They knew where to hit the wards where they were the weakest, and how to undo Magnus’ magic. We know that some warlocks glamour themselves invisible from the mundanes like we do, but a lot of them don’t and just live among mundanes with only their mark glamoured.” Magnus makes an impatient gesture to tell her to get to the point. “We have wards to detect too much magic being done around the Institute,” Izzy continues, “so there was a chance that the warlock simply mingled with the mundanes down in the park to keep undetected.”

“It was a long shot, but we printed out photos of each of the warlocks on Magnus’ list, with their marks glamoured,” Jace takes over again. “We passed them out to the regulars of the parks. By the way, several homeless mundanes sleep on these benches specifically because they’re somehow always warm, you wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?” he nods his chin to Magnus.

“Not to my knowledge,” Magnus frowns.

Alec blushes. “They may have a few heat runes carved underneath,” he says, sinking into his armchair. “I, uh, I did that back when I first learned the rune. I’ve been renewing them every year since. I can’t give those mundanes a roof, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

Izzy’s eyes widen. “Alec!”

“I know, we’re not supposed to use runes where mundanes might see. But they don’t even know what they are! Plus, the park technically belongs to the Institute, and I’m still the Head.”

“You’ll never stop surprising me,” Jens shakes his head, amused, and Alec grins innocently at him. Jace snorts. Magnus stares at Alec with that something indefinable in his eyes again, and Alec wants to squirm.

“Back to the topic at hand,” Jace gestures at the file in his hand. “A couple of those homeless mundanes recognized one of the warlocks, said he’d been coming at odd hours just to sit on a bench and wave his arms. He stopped right after the attack on the Institute.”

“Who?” Magnus asks.

“A guy named Theodore Cleft. He was on your list.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I don’t know him personally, but he fit the profile. But why would he do it?”

“We went to question him,” Jace says. “But with only the word of those mundane, when Lorenzo has been accused by a Nephilim? We had nothing substantial on him. But he was waiting for us. He said he had all the proof we needed, if we offered him immunity for his acts.”

“Immunity?” Underhill protests. “The Clave would not have offered that to Lorenzo!”

“He gave us a compelling reason to cut a deal,” Alec answers with a grimace of disgust. Privately, he agrees with Underhill. “He gave us the names of the people who orchestrated the attack. It originated from Alicante, from the office of the Inquisitor himself.”

“Fuck,” Underhill whistles under his breath, forgetting decorum. “The Inquisitor?”

“It looks like it,” Jace confirms.

“I had Jia on the phone,” Alec says. “She’s sending Clave examiners and a contingent to arrest him. The trial will still happen. Jace and I will testify to what we found out, and that’s where you come in, Magnus. You’re doing the cross-examination, so we’ll need you to lead things in the right direction. Cleft’s confession is on record and will clear Lorenzo, but the further we can go with directly incriminating Goldstream, the better.”

Magnus nods.

“Good thing we found that out before you start working under him,” Jace tells Alec. We knew he was an asshole, but this is a whole other level of evil.”

“Why all this?” Underhill asks. “Why frame Lorenzo?”

“I assume he’s trying to undermine the Downworld Cabinet,” Alec answers. “He’s always looked down on that. He tried to make me dissolve it when he first came into office.”

“That’s not enough motive for hiring goons to break into the Institute, though,” Magnus points out.

Alec shares a look with Jens. “We have an idea about that.”

“When interrogating the men we arrested, we never really got a good idea of what they were after,” Jens says. “But Alec’s name kept coming up. Since he’s the Head, we didn’t think much of it, but what if they were coming after him? It was pure luck that Underhill and I found them right as they broke in.”

“You think they were here to, what, kill Alec?” Izzy frowns. Magnus looks a little alarmed, and Alec can’t quite name the emotions that inspires in him.

“Or incapacitate him somehow. Keep him from doing his job, preferably permanently.”

“But why?” Jace asks.

“In his election campaign, Goldstream leaned on the fact that the Council was unhappy with Jia’s progressivism. He wrote a number of pamphlets against every decision she made since she became the Consul. Among other things, he directly mocked Aline’s sexuality, and about half of them have more or less veiled attacks against you and everything you’ve done. His virulence against both homosexuality and inter-species relationship is frankly sickening. He hates everything you stand for, Alec. You’re a danger to him.”

Alec nods his agreement. This is the conclusion they’ve come to after reviewing all the information they had about Goldstream, and it doesn’t entirely surprise him.

“While you were on the line with Jia, I looked into his file,” Jens continues. “Most of it is redacted, but I read between the lines and I took the liberty of contacting Maryse.” He sends Alec a glance, checking for his reaction. Alec just nods, curious as to what he’s going to say next. Jens has a relationship with his parents that dates all the way back to their arrival at the New York Institute, so he’s hardly going to police them. “She said that while he was much older than them and he never actually joined the Circle, his views definitely aligned with them. From what I can tell, he’s a purist.”

“He thinks the Nephilim race should stay pure and that the family lines should go uninterrupted,” Alec clarifies. “Me being the eldest Lightwood heir and very public in my refusal to marry a woman—” he glances at Magnus, who doesn’t quite react except with a raise of his eyebrow. Alec’s insides twist, and he struggles to keep going. “He can’t stand that.”

“But you’re hardly the only gay Shadowhunter here,” Jace frowns. “Why you?”

“I’m the first openly gay Head of an Institute, in a position traditionally held by spouses,” Alec bites his lip. “And a good candidate to become the next Inquisitor.”

“It’s not just that,” Jens says.

“What do you mean?” Izzy asks, tilting her head.

Jens opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself and looks at Alec, eyes widening. Alec sighs. He glances around the room at his siblings, both frowning, and then at Magnus, who is looking at him intensely, with that insatiable curiosity of his that sends a pang to Alec’s heart. He keeps getting hit with these tiny parts of Magnus that he hadn’t even realized he’s missed.

Jens silently asks for his permission and Alec nods. The cat is out of the bag, anyway. He hasn’t purposefully been keeping this a secret from his siblings – they just never asked.

“The upcoming Inclusion Laws,” Jens says. “They probably won’t pass without Alec, and they wouldn’t even be on the table if he and Aline hadn’t done all the preliminary work. Inter-species relationships are at an all-time high, and the Clave no longer has grounds to dismiss them. In less than a week, we’ll be hosting a wedding right here that will be the first gay wedding in the history of the Clave. There are more openly queer Shadowhunters in this Institute than in all the other Institutes combined. Our policies are the most inclusive in the world.”

Jace and Izzy gape at him in shock. They know some of that, of course they do. They have an idea of why Aline and Helen’s coming wedding is so important. Alec can’t blame them for not keeping full track of things they aren’t involved in, even though their support would mean a lot to him. He compartmentalizes, he always has. He has his siblings for the fieldwork, the demon slaying, and for family time. He has Jens and Aline, and sometimes Underhill, for the legal footwork. Each of his lieutenants have their specialties. Izzy and Jace aren’t interested in the political aspects of the Institute, and that’s why Izzy might never be ready to be the named Head.

“You did all that?” she asks in a small voice.

“Not on my own,” Alec answers honestly.

Jens takes a breath and turns back to Alec. “I have traced multiple contacts between Goldstream and Milan Svec at the Prague Institute.”

“Kara,” Alec murmurs, closing his eyes. “Is she safe?”

“She came back from patrol four hours ago. I’ve warned her not to take any calls from her father, just in case. I wanted to talk with you before bringing her up to speed.”

“Thank you. Kara’s father is very transphobic,” Alec explains to Magnus, seeing his confusion.

“If the laws pass, she’ll be the first Shadowhunter to officially change her sex mention,” Jens adds. “In the past, trans Nephilim have either stayed in the closet or opted for deruning. But she reached out to Alec after he became Head and he had her transferred here.”

“You’ve built a whole community around you,” Magnus breathes, with something that looks almost like awe.

Alec fights down the urge to correct him. We did. It was them, together. It was always them. Alec never even entertained having to keep fighting on his own.

But he doesn’t say anything about the nights they spent researching Clave history to draft the Inclusion Laws, the prohibitions they braved hand in hand, the Downworld Cabinet struggles, the endless meetings with Clave and Spiral Council officials. The kiss they shared in the middle of an aborted wedding that started it all. He doesn’t say anything, because Magnus doesn’t remember. Magnus erased himself from that history, and now it’s Alec’s alone to carry.

“Back to the subject,” Alec signals, forbidding himself from going down that train of thoughts. He nods his chin to Jens. “We think Goldstream tried to have me put out of commission because I’m a threat to his ideals. There will be another interrogation of the Shadowhunters who broke into the Institute, and I think we can make a case for a trial under the Soul Sword. Depending on exactly what he told them to do, this might constitute attempted murder.”

Izzy grimaces at Alec, probably at how lightly he’s taking an attempt on his life, but it feels a little hypocritical. They risk their lives every day. Alec is arguably safer now, even with people like Goldstream on the loose, than he ever was when he worked in the field. He’s the one who has to make the decision to send his own siblings, including Max who is still a child, to take risks out there every day.

Jens seems to steel himself, straightening. “I think it might not have been his first try.”

Alec blinks in shock. “What?”

“I haven’t brought it up to you before because I figured you had other things to care about, but I did tell the Inquisitor when he interviewed me. There were five cases of Pervious demon injuries that day. All the victims died straight away, except for you. It struck me as odd, because Pervious demons aren’t actually from Edom.”

“They’re not?” Alec frowns. He researched the effects of the venom when he was suffering from them, but he never really took the time to look for more. There is almost nothing about those demons in the Silent City’s archive, so Alec trusted Catarina with telling him what would happen to him.

“They’re from another hell dimension. They’re also fairly intelligent. I figured maybe one of them had been in Edom, there are some demons that can travel through dimension after all, but what if it was summoned purposefully? What if someone, who had access to a compliant warlock, took advantage of the chaos to eliminate their enemies?”

“Fuck,” Alec murmurs.

In all the months since getting bitten, he’s never once considered that it may be the result of more than circumstances. The battle of Alicante was a mess, a disaster on all accounts, and his injuries were just part of that, just like the loss of Robert. But if Jens is right…

He exchanges a look with Jace, who looks downright murderous. Izzy is equally rattled, and Jens just holds his gaze with a steadiness that’s more resigned than actually calm. Alec takes a shaky breath and shifts in his seat, wincing in pain when it wakes up the abused muscles in his hip. Goldstream may have tried to kill him. Magnus saved him. This is too much to process right now, and he doesn’t have the cognitive space to make sense of it at almost seven in the morning.

“We need to get ready,” he says, as calmly as he can. “Will you be able to use this?” he asks Magnus, nodding at the file Jens has put down on the coffee table between them.

“Yes,” Magnus confirms. “This is solid. But I should speak to Lorenzo before the trial starts.”

“Go tell him the good news,” Alec nods, unable to decide whether Magnus leaving the room is a relief or a wrench. “If it goes well, he’ll be out of there by tonight.”

*

As it turns out, it doesn’t even take until lunch. Magnus is a ruthless counselor when he decides to be, and they get to the crux of the matter in just a few hours, Jace and Alec’s testimonies bringing the entire case down efficiently.

Magnus looks almost exhilarated as he finishes his speech with a grand gesture toward a sputtering Goldstream. “This is his fault! Put him on trial!”

Izzy rises to the occasion with glee. Signaling Underhill and his second Greenmantle, she approaches the Inquisitor with a pair of runed handcuffs. “Darius Goldstream, I am placing you under arrest for the crimes of treason against the Clave, murder and attempted murder by proxy. You will answer for your crimes in front of the Council.”

Things are a blur for a while after that. Noise erupts in the room as conversations overlap each other, quickly overwhelming. Things move around Alec too fast for him to track. It’s a motif of his life, recently. Things are finally changing, in the Clave, in the Institute, change that he has worked so hard for, but it leaves him indifferent, apathetic until he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

He’s reminded vividly of Magnus’ words after he lost his magic. The world keeps on going and it’s like I’m not a part of it.

Goldstream is led away amid cheers. Jace stares murderously at his back and murmurs something to Jens, who frowns before his face lights up with a rare smile. Underhill finds the boldness in himself to kiss a newly-freed Lorenzo in view of all, and Lorenzo doesn’t seem to be in a rush to complain. Magnus hugs Izzy almost naturally, and it tightens the knot in Alec’s throat so much that he can’t breathe.

He tries to stand up to get away, his bad leg barely willing to hold his weight, but he’s sucked into conversation by the Clave representatives Jia sent. He pushes through his exhaustion to navigate the political minefield while ignoring the worsening pain in his leg. By the time they finally leave, he’s utterly exhausted and incapable of keeping track of what’s going on around him.

That must be why he almost jumps out of his skin when Magnus appears right in front of him, still suave and beautiful in his suit, with a hint of lipstick on his lips that Alec can’t stop staring at.

“Will you walk me out? We have some business to settle.”

Alec blinks at him for a moment, struggling to process his words as his brain is too focused on Magnus’ very presence. He’s too close, almost touching. Alec wants nothing more than to reach out and bump his shoulder, or cup his chin, or—

He can’t. It will hurt too much, to see Magnus’ rejection in his eyes. His indifference.

“Yes,” he says a bit randomly. Magnus starts walking in the direction of the exit, so he follows, limping painfully. Magnus almost instinctively adjusts his stride to Alec’s slower speed as they pass the door into the ops center.

“Are you still leaving for Alicante, now that Goldstream is gone?” Magnus asks. “You told me you were supposed to work with him.”

Alec licks his lips several times before he can speak. “The Consul needs a good Inquisitor candidate more than ever.” He pauses. “She’s naming me interim Inquisitor starting next week. We discussed it this morning, once we’d established Goldstream’s guilt.”

“When are you leaving?”

“On Sunday, right after the wedding, as planned.”

They’ve reached the entrance corridor. “Right,” Magnus says. It’s almost a sigh. He seems to hesitate before he stops and turns toward Alec fully. “So you’re not coming back.”

“I don’t know yet,” Alec answers, clamping down on his feelings on the matter. He needs to get away from Magnus, and if he’s confirmed as the Inquisitor, he can do so much more to change the Clave from the inside. The way his gut twists at the idea of leaving New York cannot matter. “The election is in six months. So at least until then.”

Magnus nods, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’ll… I’ll miss you,” he mutters.

It feels like being stabbed. Alec’s breath hitches and he closes his eyes. “Please don’t,” he whispers. “I can’t—”

He feels Magnus move closer, but he raises a hand like a barrier. Magnus stops moving.

“What do you want?” Alec asks, tightening his hand around the handle of his cane to anchor himself. He opens his eyes, but he keeps them fixed on Magnus’ suede boots.

“You owe me a meeting.”

Alec blinks. “And you want to do it right now? I’ve been up for thirty hours, can it wait—”

“No, of course, I just wanted to set a date,” Magnus says in a rush. “But if you’re too tired, I’ll just… text you, or something.”

Alec grimaces, thinking of the long thread of Magnus’ texts he’s kept on his phone, that he can’t stand to delete but can’t bear to look at. “No, we can do that now. It will have to be before Sunday. I—I have to be in Alicante all day on Thursday and Friday to prepare for the move.”

“That leaves Saturday,” Magnus completes. Alec is inordinately grateful that he didn’t try to propose tomorrow, since he’s fairly sure he’s not going to be able to get out of bed. Not with the way his body is protesting now.

“Yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll come over. At two, or something.”

It’s not that he wants to go to the loft. It’s the last thing he wants. But Magnus is noticeably twitchy in the Institute, even more than he used to be, and it’s better, anyway. He can’t imagine what Magnus wants to talk about.

“Good,” Magnus nods. He keeps staring at Alec, and Alec keeps staring at his feet. It’s uncomfortable in a way the two of them being together has never been. The easiness between them is just another thing Alec will mourn.

As the conversation stalls, he sways on his feet, his leg threatening to give out. Magnus almost reaches out to help him, but Alec simply takes a step back to land on the bench behind him, along the corridor wall.

“You alright?” Magnus frowns.

“I’m fine,” Alec sighs. “Just, uh, need to rest. Don’t worry about me.”

Magnus hesitates. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Or do you need me to call someone, to...help?”

“No,” Alec growls, miserable. “Just—” he gestures vaguely to the door.

“I’ll see you on Saturday, Alexander,” Magnus says softly, and Alec stares at his back as he leaves.

He closes his eyes and buries his head in his hands, letting his cane clatter to the floor. He doesn’t even notice the tears running down his cheeks until Izzy finds him there, several minutes later.

*

Dear Magnus,

I was going to ask you to marry me. I asked Mom for the Lightwood ring. I had everything prepared, that night, until you told me that you could never be happy without your magic.

I could see that you weren’t doing well, but I fooled myself into only seeing what you me wanted me to see. What I wanted to see. I don’t, I can’t know what it was like for you.

I think I understand better now, what it’s like to feel the life ahead of you shrink until it’s suffocating you. I understand why it was unbearable.

I let myself believe that you would get better, that we would get through it together, because back then it didn’t seem insurmountable to me. But it wasn’t getting better. You were slipping away, and I was lying to myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

I can see now how foolish I was. I was so in love that I didn’t see that the only thing I could bring you was pain. I am a Nephilim, part of a people who have been oppressing yours for millenia. I am mortal, and that is a reality we can never escape.

I love you. That will never change. I will love you until my last breath.

Chapter Text

Alec eyes his phone before opening another drawer. He’s meant to be at Magnus’ in half an hour, but he’s starting to think that it’s the very last place he wants to be. Some part of him will jump at any chance to see Magnus again, one last time, but the largest part wants to hide somewhere small and never come out.

But he’s given his word.

The drawer yields little more than a few empty folders and a wayward pen. Alec leaves them there, his mind still on Magnus. He’s doing what he should have done days ago, emptying his office to hand it over to Izzy. His personal possessions are few enough that they fit into one box, even including the legal files he’s taking with him.

The third drawer is locked as usual, so Alec grabs his stele and traces an Unlock rune. He swallows before opening it. He hasn’t touched it since Magnus healed him from the Pervious venom. He couldn’t stand to see the letters, afterwards. It was easy to drown in his grief, when he was going to die anyway, but learning to live again is harder. He’s done his best to avoid keeping too many reminders around.

The first thing he sees is the box. The box that holds the Lightwood ring, that he’ll never put on Magnus’ finger. He touches it, trying to decide whether to take it with him to Alicante or give it back to his mother tomorrow, to give Izzy when she decides to take the next step with Simon or another, but before he can choose, he notices the second thing.

Or rather, the absence of it. The bottom of the drawer holds the file Alec recognizes as his will and instructions, but the stack of letters to Magnus is gone.

Alec opens the drawer fully in a panic. He knows the letters were there. Sure, the last time he actually looked at them he was sick and feverish, but he would remember moving them, right? He didn’t do anything with them. He toyed with burning them, but he knows he didn’t actually do it.

So where are they?

There are exactly two people outside of him who know the letters even exist. Alec is certain that Jens would not touch them without telling him for any reason, so that leaves…

Alec’s phone buzzes. He grabs it by reflex and reads the text from his driver, who is waiting for him outside. Dammit. It will have to wait until he’s back, and knowing where he’s going, he doubts he’s going to be in a good mood when he returns.

Alec grits his teeth and closes the drawer again. He doesn’t unclench his fists until he’s standing in front of Magnus’ building, and realizes that the grip he has on his cane is actually painful.

He’s had the fifteen minutes the drive took to figure out what Izzy could have done with the letters, which conveniently solves the pressing question of what Magnus wants to talk about. And he’s seething.

He takes a few deep breaths. He waits until he’s got himself back under some semblance of control to move. He waves Gabby away, telling him not to wait for him, and fiddles with his collar for a bit. The anger at his sister abates a little once he’s made himself breathe through the emotions and come out on the other side. It doesn’t matter. It’s done, now. Whatever the consequences, he’ll have to deal with them.

Alec groans when he limps into the building and sees the familiar sign on the elevator door. For an upscale Brooklyn apartment building, the elevator is out of order far too often. Alec and Magnus used to joke about how many times Magnus has fixed it with magic because the mundane technicians wouldn’t come. Alec enjoyed the workout of running up the fifteen floors, once upon a time – except at four in the morning, coming back from patrol. Now he doesn’t think he could make it up the stairs if he tried.

He’s loath to call Magnus to tell him that he can’t make it. It seems ridiculous, “hey, I can’t come today because I’m stuck in your lobby.” He walks up to the elevator anyway, hoping vaguely that maybe the sign is something else, but the large OUT OF ORDER is unmistakable. Except… except there’s a handwritten note in bright blue gel pen just underneath, shimmering under a glamour. EXCEPT FOR ALEXANDER.

Alec closes his eyes when he realizes he’s blushing – really? he’s still blushing because of Magnus’ flirting, even now? – and pushes the call button. The elevator door smoothly opens, with none of its usual noise. It closes as soon as Alec steps inside.

The door to the penthouse is wide open, and Alec frowns when he doesn’t immediately see Magnus anywhere. He knocks on the door with his free hand as he walks in, not feeling comfortable with not announcing himself.

He carefully doesn’t think about how he was essentially living here before Magnus traded the loft for Lorenzo’s magic. It brings up too many memories. Every room, every nook and cranny is familiar, and he doesn’t want to think about it.

The living room has been emptied, except for the two armchairs and the coffee table set between them. Magnus’ flair for dramatics is something that has always amused Alec, but today it just knots up his throat a little more.

On the table, readily recognizable, is the stack of Alec’s letters, with his handwriting on the envelope. Alec holds back a sigh. At least Magnus isn’t going to pretend that he doesn’t have them. Beside them is a wooden box the size of Alec’s palm.

“You came,” Magnus’ voice comes from behind him.

Alec barely starts, and he doesn’t turn around, keeping his gaze on the little box with a bow and an arrow carved on it. He has a suspicion that he knows what it contains.

“I owe you this,” he says. He doesn’t face Magnus. It still tears him apart to meet his eyes and not find the warmth there used to be there. Even when Magnus was at his worst, he always looked at Alec like he couldn’t quite contain his love.

Magnus sighs softly at his back. “Sit down, Alexander,” he says quietly.

Alec closes his eyes against unwanted tears. “Please don’t call me that,” he murmurs.

He doesn’t wait for Magnus’ reaction and he limps up to one of the armchairs, his armchair. He feels… old, almost, as he lowers himself down carefully and sets his cane between his knees. His hip cracks loudly and he grimaces. Is this what it would have looked like, to age with Magnus? To watch him dance around as Alec’s own body slowly betrayed him?

It would have been heart-wrenching, but Alec can’t quite shush the part of him that screams that it would have been better than this.

“Alec,” Magnus tries as he sits down across from him, and it’s somehow even worse. The table that separates them, with the letters and the box, feels like a physical manifestation of the schism between them. “Thank you for coming.”

Alec tastes bile. “Did Jace help?” he asks bitterly. He knows it’s uncharitable, but he can’t help it. He can’t keep everything in.

Magnus tilts his head. “What? Help with what?”

“Stealing the letters. I know Izzy was involved.”

Magnus sighs. “Your siblings told me where they were, yes. I was the one who stole them.”

Alec closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Izzy and Jace’s actions don’t completely surprise him – they have an impulsive, childish way of looking at things sometimes. They forget to think about consequences beyond the obvious, or they simply don’t care enough about them. Alec protected them too much, maybe. But Magnus’ betrayal stings.

It shouldn’t, Alec reflects. He keeps having to remind himself that this Magnus isn’t his Magnus, despite the evidence before him. This Magnus doesn’t know him, he doesn’t have any reason to be considerate of Alec’s feelings.

It hurts all the same.

“I’m sorry, Alec,” Magnus says gently, and it hurts more. “It was an unforgivable breach of privacy, and I’m sorry.”

“Did you read them all?”

Magnus doesn’t answer, so Alec opens his eyes again. Magnus gives him a tiny nod, and the pity in his gaze is unbearable. Alec looks away.

“Ignore them,” he snaps. “Burn them. They weren’t meant for you to read. They were the feverish delusions of a dying mind. None of it is true.”

“I seriously doubt that, Alexand—Alec.”

Alec grits his teeth. “I don’t think you get to tell me what I feel,” he growls.

He can’t do this. This was a huge mistake. He shouldn’t have accepted Magnus’ price, he should have found some other way. He digs his nails hard into his thigh to keep from exploding – or worse, bursting into tears.

“No, you’re right, I don’t,” Magnus responds, ever gentle. There’s an edge of annoyance in his voice that Alec thinks he can only hear because he knows him so well. “And I didn’t have any right to read those letters, but I did. I can’t change that.”

“You could always erase your memory again,” Alec snarls.

He wants to take the words back as soon as they’re out of his mouth, though a vicious part of his mind really means them. Magnus erased him, erased them, what, a day after their breakup? It shouldn’t be a problem to do it again, right?

Magnus does something complicated with his face.

“Alec,” he starts. “I understand that this situation is impossible for you. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. I didn’t ask you here to make you suffer even more.”

Alec deflates, the fight gone from him. He wants to hate Magnus’ reasonable tone, his calm demeanor, but it’s too easy to tell that it’s just a front.

He hates that he knows Magnus too well to be angry at him.

He hates that Magnus doesn’t know him well enough to be what he needs right now.

He hates all of this.

He hunches over and tiredly rubs his eyes. “Just… just ask me whatever you wanted to ask, or let me go. Please.”

Magnus nods curtly in acceptance. “I need to know what happened, before I erased my memories. It wasn’t in the letters.”

Alec watches him for a moment between his fingers. He expected that, he tells himself. He’s been expecting that since Magnus started showing curiosity about him. It doesn’t hurt any less to hear him ask. “Why?” he asks. “Why would you need to know? It doesn’t matter.”

“You know what this is?” Magnus points at the box between them.

Alec doesn’t even glance at it. He can barely stand to think of it, of this tiny thing that raises a wall between them. “Yeah.”

Magnus takes a breath. “Lately, I’ve been… unable to focus. I keep thinking about it. About you. And it won’t stop until I know exactly what’s in there.”

“What will you do then?” Alec asks, unable to keep the bitter edge out of his voice. “Destroy it? Put it in your memento box and move on? What does it accomplish if you know, Magnus?”

“At the very least, I thought we could both get some closure,” Magnus answers softly.

Alec curls up further around the pain in his chest. Fuck.

There’s no such thing as closure, not for him. He’s already had all the closure he could get – isn’t seeing the lack of recognition in Magnus’ eyes closure enough? – and it didn’t make a lick of difference. The pain is still there, and it’s still so strong that he can barely breathe around it.

But… Magnus looks lost, almost, vulnerable. His eyes dart between Alec’s face and the stack of letters. He’s wringing his fingers in anxiety, tapping a rhythm into the carpet with his foot. Maybe he does need this.

Maybe after all of this, Alec can bring him the closure he needs.

“I broke up with you,” he says.

Magnus just looks at him for a minute, as if trying to read more into him. “I gathered that,” he says levelly. “What I don’t understand is why.”

Alec hesitates. What does closure look like for Magnus? A good reason to put away the box and never think about it again? He swallows. “I couldn’t stand it anymore,” he forces out, even though the words burn the inside of his throat. “You were falling apart, and I couldn’t watch you.”

There’s a silence. Alec can’t bring himself to look at Magnus, so he keeps his eyes on his lap until Magnus speaks up.

“I don’t believe you,” Magnus states. He’s staring right at Alec, and his tone is level but certain. “I’ve read your letters. I don’t believe that you just left like that. There was a reason.”

Alec buries his head into his hands, feeling like he’s right back there, in Maryse’s shop, trying to come up with a way to break Magnus’ heart when he knew perfectly well that it would destroy them both.

“Does there need to be a reason for everything?” he mutters. “It was my fault, Magnus. You lost your magic because of me. I couldn’t stand the guilt.”

“No,” Magnus shakes his head. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have walked away. You would have looked for a solution. Unless…” He trails off, and Alec looks up at him, swallowing hard. “Unless that’s what you did.”

Alec doesn’t answer. He can’t. He can’t tell Magnus about the deal he made, even now. Asmodeus’ restrictions may have died with him, but Alec’s devouring guilt hasn’t.

“Lorenzo said something the other day that’s been eating at me,” Magnus continues, almost as if talking to himself. “He said that it was a strange coincidence that my father gave me back my magic right when you broke up with me out of nowhere. So was it, Alexander? Was it a coincidence?”

Alec barely notices the slip with his name, too busy trying to breathe. He’s panicking. Magnus is too close, too determined. Why is Alec so afraid of him finding out? It should be a relief, a chance… No. Alec can’t afford hope. He can’t. He grips at his hair, pulling until it hurts.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Magnus says, his voice tense and restrained. “You know what I think? I think you decided to take it upon yourself to fix me, and you somehow made a deal with my father for my magic.”

“It wasn’t about fixing you,” are the words that make it out of Alec’s mouth, weak and painful. He forces himself to take his hand out of his hair and crosses his arms against his chest instead, hugging himself. “I didn’t think you were broken. But you were falling apart. You weren’t adapting, you were losing yourself in grief and trying to hide it for my sake. You were… After I pulled my head out of my own ass with my stupid fantasies of growing old together, I could see that you couldn’t live like that.” He swallows harshly. “Without your magic… you couldn’t even see a reason to live, Magnus! You almost died trying to use Lorenzo’s magic and you didn’t care! So yes, you being alive was more important to me than getting to be with you. I wasn’t enough, and I was never going to be. I had to do something.”

“And that was going to my father?”

“He makes deals, that’s what he does. I wanted to know his price. Once I had the thought in my head…” Alec works his jaw. “It was an impossible choice. I couldn’t tell you. And I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I could have helped, and chose not to.”

“Going to him was irresponsible in the first place!” Magnus explodes.

The anger feels familiar, almost. Freeing. Better than this limbo, this confusion that’s been petrifying Alec for months. He knows how to answer to anger, to hurt, to blame.

“Was it?” he shouts in turn. “Was it more irresponsible than you trading your magic to him?”

“He’s my father, I know him!”

“Fine!” Alec chokes on his voice. “I fucked up, and I know it! I did it behind your back and I lied to you and I broke your heart and I’m sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry for that.” His vision blurs, and he realizes that tears are flowing freely down his face. “I just wanted you to be happy,” he adds brokenly.

The fight has gone right out of both of them, and Alec realizes just what he’s admitted to. It needed to be said – he needed to say it. He needed to say it to Magnus. But the expression on Magnus’ face is stricken, and Alec never wants to see it again.

“What about you?” Magnus asks, very quietly, his voice trembling just a little.

What about you? Izzy had asked that day. Will you survive?

“There was no choice I could make that ended with me being happy,” Alec whispers.

Magnus makes a small broken sound and closes his eyes. Alec wipes at his face, the salt of his tears briefly overpowering the acrid taste in his mouth.

“You didn’t have the right to decide that my magic was more important to me than you,” Magnus says after a moment. “You took that choice away from me.”

Alec nods, sniffing. “I know. I’m not trying to find excuses. You have every right to hate me.”

Magnus lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You think I erased my memories because I hate you?”

“No,” Alec replies frankly. Magnus may have hated him in that moment for breaking his heart, but that’s not why he erased his memories. It would be so much easier, if it was. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t remember. And as you said, what I did is unforgivable.”

Magnus grips the arm of his chair tightly. “I did not say that, Alec.”

Alec just looks away. Maybe Magnus didn’t say the words, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

For a minute, they stay unmoving, each trying to breathe and calm down, the schism between them somehow even more insurmountable than before. Alec’s gaze falls on the box again, the offending red fletching of the arrow catching his eyes. He feels like it holds all his dreams and his worst pain at the same time, like the last memento of a lost time. The hope of a fool.

He came here for Magnus. To give Magnus closure.

“Now you know,” he says, his voice still hoarse with tears. “Is that enough for you? Will you finally let me go?”

Magnus looks away for a moment, and when he looks back at Alec, his eyes are shining. “Even without remembering… all of this, I still care about you, Alec. I don’t want to see you hurting.”

The hope of a fool. Something blossoms inside Alec’s chest, and he stomps down on it so hard that he lets out a small, painful sound. Magnus makes an aborted move toward him with his hand and goes to fix his collar instead.

Alec works his jaw. “That ship’s sailed,” he mutters. “Me having a hard time moving on is not your responsibility.”

Magnus sighs heavily. He stands up and walks to the bay windows, losing his gaze in the cloudy sky beyond them. Alec tries not to see the spot of the balcony where he once tried to jump. For an instant, it feels like the pain of that day was so much sweeter than the burning ache in his throat today.

He chases the thought away.

“I still want to know one thing,” Magnus says after a moment, turning back and leaning his body against the frame of one of the windows. “You didn’t seem surprised that I’ve kept the memories close, so you knew that taking them back was possible. So why didn’t you tell me everything, once it was over?”

Alec wrenches his gaze away from the balcony and looks back at Magnus. “It was Asmodeus’ one condition, that you could never know.”

“But he’s dead.”

Alec shakes his head. “By the time it happened, it was already too late. I was in the hospital, and you’d forgotten…”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you got out? Since the deal was off?”

“I was dying. There was no point.” Alec pauses, averting his gaze. He remembers long hours lying in his bed at the Institute’ infirmary, wishing with everything he had that Magnus was there with him – and repeating to his family that they weren’t to go to Magnus under any circumstances. “I couldn’t make you go through that. It was a relief, in a way, that I didn’t have to worry about you.”

Magnus makes a strange sort of grimace. “You’re not dying anymore.”

“I’m still mortal,” Alec shrugs.

“Is that really the only reason?”

Alec sighs. “No. I thought about it a lot, you know. I miss you. I miss you so much that…” He swallows, cutting himself off. Magnus doesn’t need to hear what he was about to say. I miss you so much that I don’t think I can live like that. “I don’t think you’ve ever erased your memories before,” he says instead. “Even people that it hurts to think about, you’ve kept them, even Camille. Or your father. I can barely imagine living with so many memories. So I wondered why. Why did you keep them, when you could have been happier without them?”

“Alexander—” Magnus starts, taking a step toward him.

Alec doesn’t let him continue. “Then it struck me. Camille, Asmodeus, they’re immortal. And they’re manipulative and greedy. They’ll stop at nothing if they want something from you. Erasing your memories of them wouldn’t be safe, because then they would have an advantage over you. But me? I think that even if I broke your heart, you still trusted me not to take advantage of you.”

Magnus stops his aborted movement and leans heavily against the window frame again, curling an arm around his middle. “I don’t know. That’s the problem, I don’t know. I don’t know if anything you’re telling me is even the truth, since you’ve already admitted to lying before. I think we’re in an impossible situation here.”

It’s nothing that Alec doesn’t already know, but the way Magnus says it feels like one more stab in his hole-ridden chest. He can’t take it anymore. He needs to move. He grabs his cane and pushes himself up, going in the opposite direction to Magnus. He needs to put space between them. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he says, looking back at him. He needs to get out of here soon, or he’ll…

Or he’ll fall apart completely. He doesn’t want Magnus to witness that.

Magnus thinks about it. “I thought that knowing what happened would… stop the doubts. Either give me closure or make me realize that I’d made a mistake in erasing my memories. But I don’t know. I clearly didn’t do it with all the facts.”

“You mean the fact that I lied to you?” Alec asks bitterly, feeling like that’s hardly a reason to doubt his decision, despite the sliver of hope still clutching at his throat.

“The fact that even if I don’t agree with the method, you didn’t break my heart because you wanted to,” Magnus corrects him. “That and… you wrote that you were going to propose.”

It knocks the breath out of Alec. He shouldn’t be surprised, he knew that he wrote about it – his memories of the letters are a little fuzzy, given how many of them he wrote while feverish and sick, but he remembers that – but it still feels like a punch to the gut.

Magnus was never supposed to know. Not after the failed dinner. That this Magnus knows…

Alec isn’t sure why it hurts so much. For a moment, his vision reduces to a dot in the middle, and he almost stumbles. He grips his cane tightly to regain his balance, hoping that Magnus didn’t notice.

“Don’t,” he murmurs like a plea.

But Magnus hammers it in. “No one’s ever wanted me enough to marry me,” he says softly, almost dreamily. “But you did. You loved me that much. You loved me enough to sacrifice your happiness for mine, at least in your mind.”

Alec closes his eyes and lets himself lean against the wall behind him. “It hasn’t changed,” he admits.

“You know, the one thing that everyone seems to agree on,” Magnus keeps going, “is that you haven’t moved on. That you’re not going to. Your siblings, Clary, Underhill, even Cat and Raphael and Madzie… Hell, even fucking Lorenzo! They all found some way to tell me that. Shadowhunters only love once, they say.”

Alec swallows. He knows his friends are worried, but he wished they’d stay out of this. Magnus shouldn’t have to deal with that. He should be allowed to be free of Alec and all the pain Alec has brought him.

“It’s just a stupid saying,” Alec mutters, though his heart is beating furiously.

“So are you?” Magnus asks with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going to move on?”

Alec sets his jaw, unable to bring himself to lie. Not when Magnus so obviously knows the truth.

Magnus stares him down. “That’s what I thought.”

“This isn’t about me,” Alec points out.

Magnus shakes his head. “These may be my memories,” he points at the box, “but our relationship went both ways. It is about you, too.”

Alec doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to answer. It’s easier to keep things clear-cut, to make this all about Magnus so he can protect himself even a little from the pain and the hope that shouldn’t be there. He wants to give Magnus his closure, and that’s the only reason he’s here, because if Magnus blows out the flame that he can’t stop from kindling inside him, he might not survive it.

But maybe he doesn’t deserve that protection.

“I made my choice, and I will live with it,” he says, trying to sound more assertive than he feels.

“So you’ll be lonely all your life? You don’t deserve it.”

Alec chokes on the vivid memory this evokes. Magnus said these exact words to him once, a long time ago, in a corridor of the Institute. And I think I don’t, either, he added then.

He doesn’t add anything now.

“You have to do what’s right for you,” Alec murmurs, barely loud enough for Magnus to hear. If he speaks any louder, he might break. “Or you could regret it forever.”

“I might regret it forever if I let you go,” Magnus whispers, his gaze drilling holes in Alec’s soul.

Alec shakes his head. He can’t say anything to that. He can’t let Magnus take his memories back just because he feels responsible for Alec. He won’t be able to live with that.

He’s not sure he’ll be able to live with the alternative, either.

“You have a choice to make,” he says slowly. “And I won’t ask you to choose me. But you can’t make us both stay in this limbo waiting for you to decide.”

“What if I need you to ask me?”

Alec swallows. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

The intensity of Magnus’ eyes, the deep yearning there, is overwhelming. Alec turns away and closes his eyes, cursing his own lucidity for what it’s going to cost him.

“Because if I were in your place, I wouldn’t choose me,” he answers honestly.

Magnus takes in a gulp of air, startled. Alec stays frozen with his back to him, his eyes shut tightly. He can’t be here. He can’t do this any longer. He longs for the ability to flee, that has long deserted him when it comes to Magnus.

He craves every day for one more moment with Magnus, even if it’s a moment of agony.

He almost doesn’t hear Magnus’ murmur, so low that it’s barely more than a breath. “Would you choose me?”

Alec feels a tear run down his cheek. “In every lifetime,” he answers truthfully.

His muscles start working again, and he runs, unable to bear the thought of seeing the rejection on Magnus’ face.

The noise the door makes slamming behind him as he leaves feels final.

*

Dear Magnus,

Every minute I spent with you was worth the pain it causes me today.

Breaking up with you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I will take that pain and that guilt with me when I die, and I hope that it will leave you free to love someone who deserves you.

I’m sorry for everything.

I will always love you with all my heart,

Your Alexander

*

Magnus stares at the spot Alec stood in long after he’s gone. He doesn’t even see it, lost in thoughts. After a while, his legs start hurting from standing for too long, the window frame digging into his back, and he curls up in his armchair instead, kicking off the shoes he only put on to welcome Alec inside.

He conjures a glass and a bottle of scotch from his liquor cabinet. The stack of letters and the box are mocking him from the coffee table. He takes one large gulp of his drink and sets the glass down, trying to calm the storm in his mind.

He feels like he’s just watched Alec fall apart piece by piece in front of his eyes. He feels like he’s caused it, and the guilt gnaws at him. Seeing him curl up on himself more with each question, each accusation Magnus hurled at him, reduced to digging his nails into his skin and pulling his hair out… Magnus almost couldn’t take it. He would have stopped this so many times if he hadn’t been so determined to get answers.

Now he has his answers, and he still doesn’t know what to do.

He thought, somewhere inside him, that finally knowing what happened would magically fix all his doubts, that he would suddenly know for sure which path to take, but it’s still just as confused.

Alec didn’t break his heart the way Camille broke his heart. She’s the only one whose memories Magnus has ever considered removing, and the reason he didn’t is exactly as Alec guessed – he couldn’t afford that much vulnerability with her. But Camille is gone now, and Alec is… Alec is different.

Alec is different, because him breaking up with Magnus apparently hurt so much that Magnus erased his memories without even giving himself time to try to get over it. Because Magnus thought, for some reason, that he wouldn’t be able to get over it at all. And Alec just as much as confirmed that it’s the same for him.

Somehow their love, this unlikely match of a centuries-old warlock and a young Nephilim, was stronger than anything Magnus has known before.

And they ruined it. Magnus can’t say that either of them is solely at fault there. They both did this to themselves, and it was the one big character flaw that they share that was their undoing: their willingness to sacrifice their own happiness to right a wrong.

It sits bitterly in Magnus’ stomach. He understands now, with a clarity born of detached perspective, the chain of events that led them there. One sacrifice after the other, they unraveled their relationship and their entire lives until there was nothing left but the pure, unbearable pain that led Magnus to erase his memories, and Alec to throw himself into a battle he shouldn’t have survived.

If Magnus takes the memories back, can they fix it? Can they go back to where they were, before Asmodeus’ deal?

Before Magnus lost his magic?

Before…

Were they ever really happy? Really okay? Or did they go from one rescue to the other, unable to think about a future that might not even exist, trying to hold onto a fleeting present like a piece of flotsam in the middle of the ocean?

Is there even a them to go back to?

Magnus tries to take another swig of scotch and realizes that his glass is empty. With a sigh, he pours himself another, generously tipping the bottle until the glass is near full.

He stares at the red arrow fletching on the box. Why does Alec, who he’s never seen wearing a color that isn’t black or gray, use red arrows? Magnus has seen them in the training room. They contrast with everything Alec in an almost poetic way – but that can’t be why. Magnus doubts that Alec has this kind of consideration regarding his weapons. Is it a way to announce to his enemies how lethal he is? The other Nephilim have their fancy glowing blades full of runes, but Alec’s weapon of choice is more discreet, almost invisible in the dead of the night, undetectable until the arrow is loosed and its swish announces mortal peril – far too late. The red fletching, moving so fast as to become a continuous line, must be the last thing that countless demons saw on this plane.

Magnus is hopelessly turned on by the idea.

The alcohol isn’t helping his thoughts stay on track, but screw it. He was never going to make this decision sober.

Tomorrow, Alec leaves for Alicante, maybe for good. A place where Magnus can’t reach him. It feels like a finality, like if Magnus hasn’t made his choice by tonight, it will be too late.

It’s probably not as dramatic as that, and Alec will come back to visit his siblings at the very least, but he’s also not wrong. Magnus can’t drag out this indecision forever, keeping them both in limbo. If he’s not going to take the memories back, he has to give Alec at least a chance to move on.

He’ll have to let Alec go.

Catarina was wrong. The third option, starting a new relationship without his memories, wouldn’t be viable for either of them. Magnus thinks that Alec would accept it, desperate for something, but they would never fully trust it, never fully trust each other, not with that weight between them.

No, if he wants Alec, he’ll have to plunge into the unknown.

Maybe it’s exactly like Alec’s choice. There is no path that ends in certainty, but if Magnus lets this go, lets him go, he won’t be able to live with himself. Not now that the option is in front of him. He’ll always wonder what he’s missed. If he decides to destroy the memories, he’ll never stop regretting it.

“Fuck it,” he murmurs under his breath.

He grabs the box and lifts the lid. It comes apart easily, like it was always meant to be opened. No, Magnus internally rolls his eyes at himself. Don’t start coming up with dicey metaphors now.

The box is filled with… trinkets. It’s hard to say more, when they have nothing to associate with in Magnus’ mind, but he knows himself. Those are mementos. The things he couldn’t quite bear to part with, even as he chose to remove the memories they were in. He has nothing of Alec in his usual box of mementos – because they’re all here.

A lot of it is jewelry. Magnus can only assume they were gifts, throughout their relationship. Three years of birthdays and holidays and anniversaries. Three years of a relationship dumped into a box the size of his hand. Magnus wonders what Alec has to remember him by. He’s not a jewelry kind of man. What did Magnus gift him with? Weapons? Magical trinkets? Clothes?

Magnus fingers the silver ear cuffs and the delicate chains. He finds a necklace with a tiny deflect rune pendant, one that he doesn’t think Alec would have gifted him. No, he recognizes his magic on it. He made that one himself – a claim, of sorts. A declaration. A fuck-you to the Clave and the bigots who would have hated their relationship.

Your gaze on me always made me better, stronger, bolder.

Did Alec claim him the same way? Did Alec… Alec was going to propose to him. With the Lightwood family ring.

Fuck.

Magnus rocks back in his seat, his vision blurring.

What is he supposed to do with this? The knowledge that Alec loved him that much, that Magnus loved him enough that he would have said yes to the Lightwood family ring, and they still managed to fuck it all up?

He roughly throws the box back onto the table and stands up, nervously pacing the length of the room. He’s just drunk enough that his head is buzzing a little. He grabs his glass and throws back another overfilled shot, letting the burn of the alcohol in his throat anchor him down.

One of the items in the box attracts his gaze, standing out against the wood and the silver jewelry. It’s red, like Alec’s arrows on the lid of the box. Magnus recognizes a Japanese Omamori charm, the gold and green embroidery worn with use. It buzzes with magic, like what it contains is too large for its small shape. Magnus’ breath catches.

Magnus takes it between his fingers. It feels familiar, like he’s held it so often that his hands remember it even if he doesn’t. Underneath is a picture strip from a photo booth, three pictures of Magnus and Alec smiling at the camera with sparkles in their eyes.

Magnus averts his gaze. It’s been a long time since he’s seen himself this happy in the mirror. It feels almost indecent to be looking at it, like reading Alec’s letters. His heart is beating fast, too fast, pounding in his ears.

He goes back to the Omamori charm. Now that he’s touched it, the magic is growing between his fingers, like its recognizing him as its owner. Magnus feels a spark in his thumb, and it makes his entire body tingle.

It feels strangely good. Like it’s meant to be. Like… like the magic is trying to spill back into his body.

“You lose your breath every time they enter a room. Your heart beats faster when they walk by. Your skin tingles when they stand close enough to feel their breath. I know you feel what I feel, Alec.”

The memory is sudden and startling, familiar and foreign at the same time. It may be because he was standing in this exact spot when he said the words, or because he feels out of breath, watching the threads of magic leaking from the charm, the pounding in his ears deafening. The blue filaments intertwine around his fingers, spreading to his wrist, giving him goosebumps.

He watches in fascination as his own body attracts the magic, sucking it in like it’s a life force.

“They say relationships take effort.”

He doesn’t have time to wonder if he wants it anymore. He thinks that his magic wanted it so badly that it initiated the process without his input.

Alec is shy and so very young, so very quiet. Magnus’ heart aches.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Flashes of cat eyes, of sweet, heart-wrenching acceptance. Magnus almost crushes the charm in his hand from holding it too tight. He sways on his feet and finds himself looking up at the ceiling, like he’s praying to a deity he doesn’t have a name for.

“I’ve always dreamed of meeting someone like you.”

The tears are unbidden, falling without control. Magnus feels them run down his cheeks distantly, as the glowing filaments gripe at his chest and his mind stretches, cracking, to accommodate the new memories.

The holes have filled, in all this time. The neural pathways have rewritten themselves, and now they’re being torn apart.

And Alec is so, so beautiful in his mind, even as he laughs and cries and bleeds in Magnus’ arms. He lies in a dark alley with a red-fletched arrow protruding from his chest, and he loves, he loves, he loves so deeply and completely that Magnus can barely handle it.

“When you walk into a room, there’s a spark in you, magic or not, that lights up everything and everyone around you.”

He holds Magnus up even as Magnus can’t stand on his own two feet. He’s an anchor and a lighthouse and a port in a storm.

Life is a hurricane.

“I won’t lose you. I can’t.”

Magnus lets out a sob.

Life is a hurricane.

Your gaze on me always made me better, stronger, bolder.

People die and mourn and weep around them. The world ends – then it doesn’t. They fight. They hurt. They love.

They love.

“I didn't know the spark inside of you, the one I fell in love with, was out for good.”

Magnus screams, and he finds himself on his knees, without remembering when he fell. His body is on fire, but his mind feels numb, detached, as if the overload has shut it down. He watches Alec walk away in a dream.

There is no coming back. It’s over. Alec is gone.

Alec is gone.

But Alec always comes back.

“You and I, we always find our way back to each other.”

The Omamori falls from Magnus’ hand, its magic sucked away. Magnus feels the carpet under his fingers. He’s cold. It hurts.

“I don’t think I can live without you.”

He can’t breathe. His heart feels like it’s going to explode, beating so hard and fast that it makes him dizzy. His skin is raw, throbbing with longing.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Magnus mouths, his voice unable to make it past his throat. He closes his eyes, tearing at the seams. He falls apart and his head hits the floor, the thud echoing brutally around his brain.

And finally, the dam breaks.

*

He’s in Pandemonium, staring across the room at Alec, a bow in his hand.

He’s in his loft and standing over a pentagram, an electric jolt going through his body as he links hands with Alec.

He’s kneeling in his living room, pulling energy from the hand in his, stumbling back against Alec’s lean and muscular body, exhausted.

He’s holding up his glass and toasting with Alec, whispering words, flirting.

He’s watching Alec train, shirtless, swallowing back his desire and trying to find the words to say how much he wants him.

He’s standing in a corridor, hurt and heartbroken, Alec turning his back on him.

He’s storming into a wedding, and Alec is striding toward him, kissing him.

*

He’s alone on his balcony, surrounded by memories, his heart in pieces, broken beyond repair.

No.

Back up.

Back to the start.

Chapter Text

Alec lets himself lean on the frame of the side door as he watches Helen’s youngest cousins rehearse their bridesmaid duties in the aisle under Jens’ supervision. The wedding isn’t for another few hours, and the decorations were ready last night, so the room is mostly empty.

The Clave officials will start arriving soon, and Alec isn’t looking forward to having to welcome them. Aline and Helen knew what they were doing when they planned this, that it would turn into a political circus quickly – the first gay Shadowhunter wedding, between the Consul’s daughter and a half-Seelie? There was no other way this could go. Alec doesn’t regret offering to host the ceremony here in the Institute, but he wishes this was easier.

He hasn’t slept. He couldn’t, not after his meeting with Magnus yesterday. He’s exhausted, and he’s leaving for Alicante in the evening, his suitcase ready in his room. His office is empty, waiting for Izzy to officially take his place.

It was the plan all along, but Alec still can’t tell if he’s relieved to be leaving or if it’s the last thing he wants. Yesterday was the last time he’s going to see Magnus – maybe for good.

After coming back to the Institute, he spent the entire evening lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. There were no tears, not anymore. He’s already shed them all.

The foolish hope has come and gone. Magnus isn’t going to take his memories back, not now, not after all this time. There is no undoing what has been done. Alec may not be capable of moving on, but it’s time to let him go, all the same.

Alec’s gaze trails up the aisle to the altar, where Aline and Helen will stand later today to say their vows. It should have been them. It should have been him and Magnus, and it never will be. The feeling is bittersweet now, no longer a stab in the gut, as he briefly lets himself picture Magnus in a deep warlock blue suit, walking up the aisle on Catarina’s arm.

He shakes the thought off when Izzy and Jace stride into the room and stop by Jens to ask him something. Jens shakes his head and points at Alec, giving him a slightly apologetic look.

“So that’s where you were hiding,” Izzy calls before she even reaches him. “The guests will start to arrive soon, we need to get ready.”

“Yeah,” Alec sighs. He doesn’t move, though, keeping his gaze past his siblings, on the children in the room.

“You alright?” Jace asks. “You look...spaced out.”

Alec fidgets with his cane. “I saw Magnus yesterday.”

“Right,” Jace says slowly, carefully. “The meeting he asked for, right? How did it go?” His tone is stuck somewhere between sympathetic and falsely light, and it just sounds grating.

“He was in possession of something of mine,” Alec says instead of answering, still not looking at either of his siblings. One of Helen’s little cousins has decided to climb onto the altar, where the Institute’s Core stone has been placed, and Jens rushes to catch her. “Letters. Letters I know I did not send to him.”

Jace immediately ducks his head guiltily. Izzy, however, moves to take his arm, opening her mouth. “Alec—”

Alec shakes out of her grasp. “Magnus assured me that he took them himself. I suppose he thought that it would help your case.”

“No, we did this,” Jace speaks up. “It’s not his fault.”

“It doesn’t actually matter,” Alec points out. “You enabled an outsider, a warlock, to steal something from the office of an Institute’s Head. You had no idea what was in those letters, or for that matter what else Magnus could have stolen. You could be deruned for this.”

“Alec—” Izzy repeats, now sounding horrified.

Alec still keeps his eyes trained on the children. “I always wondered how you managed to steal my personal stele to get the Mortal Cup, but I guess this isn’t the first time you got Magnus to do it for you, is it?”

It’s funny that this is the thing his mind latched onto after he came back yesterday. The rest was just too overwhelming, too painful. He’s had a lot of time to think, overnight, about what to do with his siblings. About Goldstream, who was trying to kill him all the way back in Alicante, who was motivated enough to engineer a Pervious attack in the middle of the fight of their lives. About the Inquisitor job he’s still not sure he wants, the changes he needs to make to the Clave for Kara, for Max, for these kids playing in the aisle of the ceremony room.

He doesn’t even feel betrayed by Izzy and Jace’s actions, not really. They didn’t mean any harm, they’re just… immature, in this way. They forget to think things through, to think of the consequences. As their commanding officer, which he still is in name, Alec can’t completely let them off the hook. But as their brother, he just sees it for what it is: he’s protected them too much. As a reaction to their parents’ extreme punishments, so far beyond the offense that they stopped making sense, he protected Jace and Izzy from suffering any consequences from their acts and allowed them to run wild. He should have corrected course years ago. The failure is his own.

Their silence is as good as an admission.

“Even if I get elected, I can’t in good conscience recommend either of you for promotion unless you’ve shown me by then that you’ve changed,” Alec says. “An Institute Head cannot allow this sort of breach, and neither can a Head of Operations. I hope you’ll understand.”

Izzy swallows and hangs her head. Jace doesn’t look particularly sad about the loss of opportunity, but he still makes sure to show his contrition. “I’m sorry,” he says. “We didn’t think of it like that. I mean, it’s Magnus.”

“No, it’s not,” Alec answers, ignoring the pang in his heart. “He doesn’t remember us. He doesn’t have any reason to trust Shadowhunters, and he has a history with our family. I get that you want to trust him, but you can’t. Besides, Magnus or not, this was a huge breach of privacy. Those letters were deeply personal.”

“I’m really sorry, Alec,” Izzy mutters, sounding like she means it. “I thought it would help, but… you’re right, I didn’t think it through.”

“You thought it would help what, exactly?” Alec loses his cool, finally looking at her. She doesn’t meet his eyes, and he doesn’t try to make her. “The only thing it achieved was airing my private life to a virtual stranger!”

“He was part of that life!” Izzy exclaims.

“Magnus is gone, Izzy! He doesn’t remember any of it! He doesn’t want to remember—” Alec’s voice breaks against his will, and he sinks back down against the door frame. “He doesn’t want to remember us.”

His siblings stay silent for a moment, Alec’s ragged breathing the only thing between them. Jens has managed to herd the children back out of the room, and they’re the only one left.

“Is that what he said yesterday?” Jace asks finally.

Alec shakes his head to get the memory of Magnus’ stricken face out of his mind. “As good as,” he says. “You two need to stop trying to interfere and let us move on.”

Izzy sighs, but she nods. “Okay. I understand. It’s just so hard to see you hurting.”

“I’ll be fine,” Alec straightens. It’s not even really a lie. He will be, by some definition of fine. He’ll keep on living, and that’s better than where he was six month ago.

Izzy doesn’t look convinced, but she sees his movement for what it is. “Let’s go get ready. I need to put some makeup on you. Helen deserves better than a forsaken as her suggenes.”

“I don’t look like a forsaken!” Alec protests.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jace mutters, loud enough for all of them to hear. Alec gives him a betrayed look, but he lets Izzy pull him into the corridor by the arm.

*

Alec doesn’t have a moment to himself after that. As soon as Izzy is done putting concealer under his eyes, he puts on his dark green suit and heads out to start welcoming the guests from the Clave and other Institutes, as well as the invited Downworlders.

The Seelie Queen has sent an entire delegation, headed by Meliorn. They don’t bother to mix with the other guests, staying amongst themselves, but Alec sees Meliorn greet Helen’s parents and her brother rather cordially. Helen has often told Alec how she never feels like she belongs anywhere, too Seelie for the Shadowhunters and too Nephilim for the Seelie, but it seems that today those pieces of her will come together, however briefly.

There are a few members of each of the other Downworld species, though none are here as official representatives. They are mostly friends that Helen and Aline have picked up over the years. Simon came as Izzy’s plus one, Catarina has kept in touch with Helen since saving her life after the Battle of Alicante, and Maia has become fast friends with Aline since the latter moved to New York – if their sarcasm-filled love-hate relationship can be called that. Alec quickly notices that Lorenzo is here with Underhill, and he takes a moment to go greet him.

“Lightwood,” Lorenzo almost smiles. Alec doesn’t let himself think about how much their relationship has changed, too. Once it moved past Lorenzo’s hostility toward Magnus, they found common ground in unexpected areas. “This isn’t really the time and place, but I haven’t had the opportunity to properly thank you for clearing my name.”

“I did very little,” Alec shakes his head. “Jace and Izzy are the ones who figured it out.”

Lorenzo pauses, and his gaze grows intense, not at all the polite stare he had just a second ago. “You are underselling your role. But beyond that, do you really think that your siblings would have willingly helped a warlock they don’t even like, had you not paved the way? This very Institute once executed one of my brethren for using magic in front of a mundane.”

Alec swallows. He can hardly say that this surprises him, and yet he still finds himself speechless with shame every time he hears a new story. “Things are changing,” he says slowly.

“You are the one changing them,” Lorenzo delivers in a tone that bears no argument. “Don’t sell yourself short. Where you’re going, it will not help you.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Alec deadpans at his patronizing tone, but he nods to show that he understands the intent.

Lorenzo gives way to more guests to welcome, now from the Clave delegation. Alec has to step up for a while and navigate the political minefield of talking to the officials he’s going to have to convince to vote for his Inclusion Laws in the next few months. The guests are a mix of progressive and conservative Shadowhunters, though the true reactionaries have refused the invitation. Alec is closely framed by Jens and Izzy, who just stepped into the room, and he grits his teeth as he shakes hands with people he knows were close to former Inquisitor Goldstream. Clary and Jace join them not long later, though they stay in the background.

“Is this wedding even safe?” one of the older members of the Council sneers at Alec, openly sneering at the rainbow pin on Alec’s lapel. “I hear you got breached recently. And with all these… creatures around—” she trails off, but her meaning is clear as she frowns in Lorenzo’s direction.

“Mr Lightwood has made sure to provide us with full security, Griselda,” someone interrupts before Alec can reply. He turns to find Jia Penhallow, looking regal in formal dress, staring the woman down. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been allowed out of Alicante if you weren’t still capable of defending yourself.”

Griselda Vogelspritz turns on her heels, offended, but she can’t disavow Jia in public – especially not in front of Downworlders. Alec watches her retreat with glee, though he’s careful not to let it show. “Jia,” he nods at the Consul.

Just as Alec is serving double duty today as the named Head of the Institute and Helen’s suggenes, Jia is here as Aline’s mother and as the Consul. She shakes Alec’s hand formally, her face serious, but her husband Patrick looks much more relaxed behind her. Out of the corner of his eyes, Alec sees Clary take a step back into Jace’s embrace and murmur him something, her eyes on Jia. She looks shaken, and Alec realizes that the last time she really talked to Jia must have been when she was almost executed. To Alec, Jia is his boss, a stern but fair woman who does her job well, and also Aline’s mother, the woman who once welcomed the Lightwood children into her home over the summer and was always kinder than their own parents. But to Clary, she’s the judge who sentenced her to death, and stood over her to watch her burn.

Not for the first time, the brutality of the Clave’s proceedings hits Alec, and he reflects on how much his own outlook has changed. It was once his normal – letting Downworlders get arrested for minor infractions, enduring brutal punishments for his own mistakes, even nearly marrying a stranger for the sake of his family’s name. He’s a far cry from the boy who stood at the altar nearly four years ago, his heart in his throat. That boy would have seen Clary’s punishment as justified.

That boy would have thought that Magnus forgetting him was what he deserved.

It jolts Alec out of his thoughts. The flow of arrivals has trickled down to a stop, and the ceremony room is not full, people milling about awaiting the start of the wedding. Alec spots his mother quietly talking to Jens in a corner, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

That’s another jarring role reversal. As the Institute’s Head, Maryse once had nothing but disdain for Alec’s chosen Head of Staff, a Shadowhunter from a disgraced family who doesn’t fight in the field. Now Jens is the one guiding her, a deruned Shadowhunter, as she stands surrounded by scornful Nephilim and hostile Downworlders.

Alec watches Jace work his way toward them and loop his arm through Maryse’s, confidently leading her through the crowd toward their seats. Max leaves his group of friends to join them, chattering excitedly about something. Not far from them, Kara is playing a hand game with Madzie, under Catarina’s watchful gaze.

Alec feels a rush of pride for all of them. They’re healing. The last few years have been hell, but they’ve grown and learned and become better people.

Magnus should be at Alec’s side witnessing it.

The sharpness of his loss almost overwhelms him, and Alec sways. He tightens his hand around his cane. Before he can think to move, though, hands are on his arms.

“That’s a lot of people, huh?” Izzy asks him sweetly, the small talk obviously a diversion.

Alec grimaces and nods. “Yeah, it’s—it’s great.”

Izzy gives him a look. “Come on, let’s go sit down for a while.”

“I have to be at the altar,” Alec gestures toward the platform.

“Not for a while. You can rest first.”

Alec doesn’t protest any more and lets her guide him toward their mother and brothers. His face must be eloquent, because none of them try to make conversation. Max jumps up from his seat beside Maryse to offer it to Alec, and Alec gratefully sinks down onto the uncomfortable chair.

He’s going to have to stand for a good while during the ceremony itself, and his hip is already hurting more than usual from the night he spent tossing and turning. He sticks his cane between his legs to take out his stele and renew the Painfree rune on his wrist, but it does little to help.

Izzy sits down beside him. “It’s gonna be okay,” she murmurs in his ear. “You can do this.”

“I miss Magnus,” Alec breathes. “We were supposed to be the ones getting married.”

“Oh, Alec,” Izzy opens her arms. Alec lets himself lean against her a little, sniffing.

“He doesn’t even remember our first kiss,” he whispers. It was in this very room. Alec remembers every detail of it, the determination on Magnus’ face, his own confusion suddenly clearing away to leave only certainty – if only for a minute or so – and the softness of Magnus’ lips. “What’s the point of having all those memories if I can’t share them with him?”

Izzy sighs against him. “I know,” she murmurs. Maryse squeezes his hand, and his parabatai bond pulses with warmth as Jace mentally reaches out. In this moment, Alec doesn’t have words to express how grateful he is for his family’s support.

It’s almost enough to ease the knot in his throat that makes it hard to breathe.

*

Helen looks incredible in a knee-length pale green dress, embroidered vines and leaves gliding along her bodice. Her blond hair is gathered up in a complex braid, revealing her pointed ears, and her neck is decorated with a gold band. Her prosthesis is also plated with golden metal, in full view and attracting stares.

A statement, she told Alec. To show that we’re still standing.

She walks alone down the aisle. Alec tightens his grip on his cane and opens his free arm to hug her as she joins him on the platform. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs in her ear.

She’s come so far since Alicante. She’s back in the field now, working as Jace’s second. Alec knows how much she’s fought to get there, with her own body but also with the Clave’s small-minded administration. A disabled, lesbian half-Seelie, obtaining a respected position in the field and marrying the Consul’s daughter? Less than a decade ago, that wasn’t even within the realm of imagination.

“Don’t make me cry before I even get married,” Helen laughs in his shoulder. She’s wearing flats – she tried to get used to wearing heels with the prosthesis, but apparently it takes training and she decided that she had better things to do – and the top of her head barely reaches Alec’s chin.

“Go get her,” Alec smiles back. The expectant, joyous mood of the crowd – at least the part of it that isn’t here for political reasons – is getting to him and he feels less gloomy than he did an hour ago. He’s genuinely happy for Helen and Aline. They deserve this.

Helen moves away from him and turns back toward the aisle, where Aline comes down on her father’s arm. She’s wearing a floor-length dark green gown, with golden accents at the seams. She takes Helen’s hand to walk up on the platform with a wide smile.

Alec tries hard to be attentive as they exchange vows, though his mind keeps drifting back to Magnus. He was ready to say those same vows. He was ready to marry Magnus and have a family with him. He’d already… in the hidden recess of his mind, he’d already started thinking about how to stay with Magnus for longer than his mortal life would allow.

As Helen and Aline exchange the beautiful golden daggers that they had made for each other, Alec catches a glimpse of the double doors opening, and someone slipping in. In the shadows that the front of the room is plunged in, he can’t see who it is, but he sees his mother stand up and discreetly run up the aisle to meet them. Then Brother Zachariah charges his stele on the core stone and Alec is pulled back into the wedding happening in front of him.

In all the weddings Alec has been to, the exchange of the Wedded Union runes is always an emotionally charged moment that resonates with every Shadowhunter in the room. As Aline draws the rune on Helen’s hand, and then over her heart, Alec feels the familiar goosebumps overcome him. The tension in the room is palpable, and he wonders how it feels to the Downworlders.

Today, the emotions aren’t just tied to the power of the rune. This is the first gay wedding in the history of the Clave. Alec wrenches his gaze away from Helen and catches Underhill’s eyes in the third row, the same feelings reflected on his face.

There are more people in the crowd who look starry-eyed. A few of them wear Alec’s tiny pride pins on their lapels, identifying them as part of the New York Institute’s queer community, but Alec notices several people with their own pride jewelry, or none at all, who have tears in their eyes.

And there, at the very back behind the last row, gripping Maryse’s arm, is Magnus. Alec freezes in place as their eyes meet. What is he doing here?

He’s still half in the dark, but his jacket shimmers, catching some of the light from the stained-glass window behind him. There’s something in his posture, in the way he looks at Alec – something different. Alec stares, transfixed, and almost misses it when Brother Zachariah pronounces the marriage.

Helen’s delighted squeal brings him back and he watches her kiss Aline enthusiastically. The crowd dissolves into cheers. The girls kiss once more, laughing in happiness.

Alec’s own heart thumps wildly, torn between joy and sadness, but every beat is directed at Magnus. He stares at Magnus, still half-convinced that he must be a creation of his sleep-deprived mind, and barely notices as Helen and Aline walk down the platform and up the aisle under the confetti thrown by Helen’s little cousins.

Magnus stares back. Neither of them move as the girls disappear and the crowd starts dispersing toward the reception room. Alec waits until the room has mostly emptied to limp down the two steps, and he can’t look away.

Magnus breaks eye contact for long enough to smile at Maryse, and Alec swallows, the missing piece sliding into place in his head. He can barely remember it, but the last time Magnus saw Maryse, he threw her out of his apartment. His gentleness now, his friendly smile, it’s—

It’s like before.

Magnus remembers. He took his memories back.

Is that really possible?

Alec walks up the aisle as if in a dream. It’s eerily reminiscent of the last time they met in this very room, down to the hope blossoming in Alec’s chest.

Magnus is magnificent – maybe even more than usual, or maybe it’s just that Alec feels like the fog that’s been weighing him down for so long has just started to lift. He’s wearing a black jacket patterned with shimmering swirls and a matching ruffled cravat over an ivory brocade corset vest. His eyes are lined in silver, and his longer hair is artfully gelled to the side, the tips dipped in silver.

As he approaches, Alec can see the cracks in the facade. The tiny lines around Magnus’ eyes that speak of a sleepless night that no one else would notice. The slight tremble of his hands as he takes a few steps toward Alec. The way he doesn’t quite hold Alec’s gaze once they’re close enough to touch.

“Magnus,” Alec murmurs, his voice cracking. “You—”

Magnus nods slightly. “I remember. I remember everything.”

Alec stands in front of him, leaning heavily on his cane, unsure what to do. What if Magnus can’t forgive him? Their breakup… Alec was so cruel, twisting everything meaningful about their relationship into something unrecognizable. He had to be. He had to make it quick and brutal, or he wouldn’t have had the strength to go through with it.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, prompting Alec out of his spiraling thoughts. “I love you. More than anything in the world.”

He reaches out to cup Alec’s neck and stands on his tiptoes to kiss him, until Alec leans down to meet him in the middle. It’s nothing like their first kiss – and nothing like their last. It’s soft and longing and it tastes like the tears Alec hadn’t even noticed running down his face. It’s like a relief, a void being filled, a pain being soothed. It’s like coming home.

It’s like breathing again.

*

Alec can’t say how long they just stand there, their foreheads touching, breathing each other in. He feels like Magnus will disappear the moment they separate, like this must be a dream. Tears keep falling down his cheeks, but he barely feels them, his entire focus on the feel of Magnus’ skin against his own. He has a vague awareness that his family is still in the room somewhere, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He can’t think. Not yet. Because when he does, reality will come crashing back and reality keeps taking away the things he loves.

“Alexander,” Magnus murmurs after another moment – too short. Far too short. Alec grips Magnus’ arm tighter as he leans away from him to look at his face. “I’m not going away.”

Alec finds the words stuck in his throat. He makes a small sound, probably closer to the moan of a wounded animal than anything else, and he tries to relax his undoubtedly painful grip, but he can barely make his body obey him.

“It’s okay,” Magnus says, not letting go either. Alec shouldn’t be the one being comforted, right now. If Magnus took back his memories, after yesterday…

It has to be overwhelming, and painful. He would be right back at that horrible day, with no time to process, no chance to heal—

“I’m sorry,” Alec manages over the tight knot in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Magnus murmurs, shaking his head in distress. “I am. I’m… We have a lot to talk through. But I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Alec nods shakily. He lets go, finally, and stumbles away from Magnus, his leg giving out. He catches himself on the chair behind him and sits down, lightheaded.

Magnus doesn’t disappear. He doesn’t even look away. He follows Alec’s movement until Izzy takes advantage of his distraction to jump in his arms. “Magnus! You’re back!”

“Isabelle,” Magnus says far more calmly, but he hugs her back just as tightly.

“I missed you,” Izzy breathes.

Those are the words caught in Alec’s throat, among so many others that he doesn’t know how to untangle. Izzy always had an easier time with words. He can only stare and hope that his gaze will speak for him.

“I wasn’t gone,” Magnus points out, but even he seems to know how much that isn’t true. Not for them. For Catarina or Raphael, maybe. Maybe for them Magnus was the same, even with three years of his life missing – what’s three years, in a life as long as his?

How insignificant is Alec, in a life as full as Magnus’?

“But you were, a little,” Izzy smiles tearfully.

Alec chokes on his breath and averts his eyes. He can’t process it, not yet. Magnus remembers, but it isn’t real yet, because Alec can’t think.

Magnus lays his hand on Alec’s shoulder as he lets go of Izzy, like it’s something natural, something that he never stopped doing, and Alec wants to sob. He stays frozen, all his focus on the weight of Magnus’ hand.

Jace comes to clasp Magnus’ arm, then he stands behind Alec, a silent presence, a muted support. Alec truly appreciates it, like he appreciates his mother staying several steps away, not invading the moment. She nods at him with a smile, a hand on her heart.

As Magnus and Izzy make idle small talk, Alec soaks up in Magnus’ presence and slowly, the dread fades away. It shifts into something else, another kind of apprehension entirely. Magnus chose to take his memories back, knowing what happened. He chose… He chose Alec. But where do they go from here?

There’s no going back to what they were before. Alec is not the same person as he was then – he’s not the one Magnus knew and loved anymore. What if Magnus sees that and—

Magnus squeezes his shoulder.

“We’ll give you a minute,” Izzy tells Alec, like she’s repeating something that he was too zoned out to hear. “But you’ll have to make an appearance at least,” she gestures toward the reception room. “You’re Helen’s suggenes and the Head of the Institute, you can’t just disappear.”

Alec already knows that, but he has a feeling that she’s saying it more for Magnus’ benefit. It jolts something in him. He’s leaving for Alicante. Tonight. They don’t have enough time.

He looks up at Magnus, and this time he doesn’t let himself get lost in the intricate beauty of his face. Reality is catching up. “What do we do?”

And it’s a staggering thought, that there is a we again. That they can look at each other and make a decision together, instead of each on their own. Yesterday, Alec had never felt further away from Magnus than when he looked into his eyes and saw that deep disconnect between them, an irreparable schism that Alec created.

It’s not there anymore.

“We go make that appearance,” Magnus says. “And then we can talk?”

Alec bites his lip. “I’m leaving tonight.”

Magnus makes a face. “I know. We’ll figure it out. Let’s just get through today.”

“Okay,” Alec mutters, gripping the back of his chair to hoist himself up. He swallows around the pain. “If we go out there together, everyone will know.”

Magnus tilts his head. “I’m okay with that. Are you?”

“Yeah,” Alec nods. “I am.”

Magnus’ gaze moves past his collar, down to his bad leg, then to the other side to the cane Alec is gripping in his left hand. Alec swallows, resisting the urge to squirm.

However much it hurt, he almost got used to Magnus’ detached curiosity, or his uncomplicated concern. The look in Magnus’ eyes right now is something else entirely, sorrow and pain and something far too close to guilt for Alec’s comfort.

Magnus’ hand hovers over Alec’s. “May I?”

Alec shifts his full weight to his good leg and hands Magnus his cane, feeling oddly self-conscious and vulnerable.

Magnus frowns down at the cane. It’s still the one that the medic team gave Alec once he was finally able to stop using crutches. It’s ugly and medical-looking, made of metal with a worn black rubber handle. Alec knows he could – should – have upgraded it months ago, but he never had the energy to browse mundane shops, or even look it up online.

“This is an insult to good taste. Allow me?”

Alec nods, words failing him. Magnus moves his hand over the cane almost reverently, and swirls of blue light follow his fingers. Alec feels a shiver of anticipation, a pull toward this magic he once thought lost forever.

The cane changes as Magnus’ magic touches it, into a deep brown, almost black wood. The handle turns golden, an elaborate shape carving itself under his fingers. Magnus hands the cane back to Alec with an almost shy hesitation.

Alec takes it and runs his hand over the new handle. It’s shaped like a dragon head, he realizes. It has emerald eyes and smooth ridges, fitting into Alec’s palm perfectly.

“It’s beautiful,” Alec murmurs when his mouth allows him to form the words.

“You deserve no less.”

Alec tests it carefully, gradually putting most of his weight on the cane. If anything, it’s sturdier and more comfortable than the old one. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Magnus offers him his arm, and they walk out together.

The reception room is loud and animated, and Alec can feel his brain grind down to a stop. His skin is crawling, too hot where Magnus touched him and too cold everywhere else, the uncomfortable suit scratching at his neck. He’s sleep-deprived and overloaded and he can’t do this.

But there’s Magnus, right here at his side.

It will be alright.

Chapter Text

“First, thank you all for coming,” Alec says, his strong but quiet voice resonating clearly in the huge reception room. He has his back to the large runed banners hanging from the ceiling, and the assembled Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike are standing in silence, hanging onto his words.

Magnus doesn’t know what to do with his hands as he stands a few steps away from Alec’s side, feeling the weight of many pairs of eyes on him. His usual air of confidence is hard to maintain when he feels so deeply out of place.

With the ceremony part of the wedding over, the guests have moved on to congratulating the brides and mingling in the reception room, and now to the customary speech from the host. And the Head of the New York Institute where the wedding took place, at least for now, is Alec.

Magnus will readily admit that he came here without thinking about all that. Searching through his neglected mail this morning, when he finally shook himself out of his shock-like state enough to move, he found the invite to the wedding that Isabelle sent him weeks ago (I know you don’t even know the brides, but I think you should come), and he didn’t think any further than that: Alec said he was leaving for Alicante, and Magnus had to catch him before his departure.

He hasn’t processed it yet. There was no time, not to reabsorb three years worth of emotions-filled memories. The last ten months feel like a dream, reality slipping from his fingers, and he’s half-stuck in the past. He can barely tell what day it is, and it scares that deeply-buried part of him that’s always been terrified of losing his anchor in the present, of becoming an empty, timeless shell like some of the oldest immortals he knows.

He put on clothes like an armor and marched into a wedding eerily reminiscent of the one he once crashed. Despite his confusion, he knows that only one thing matters: Alec.

That’s how he’s now fielding the cautious, distrusting gazes of several dozen Shadowhunters as they look between him and Alec, obviously wondering what he’s doing here. Magnus forbids himself from fidgeting and he crosses his arms over his chest, trying to focus only on Alec.

Alec who was panicking just five minutes ago, and now looks for all the world like the great leader that he is, tall and unflinching, his voice calm with the confidence that everyone will listen.

“In just over two months,” Alec continues, “we will be commemorating the anniversary of the Battle of Alicante, where we lost so many of our own.” The mood change is palpable. As one, the Shadowhunters present renounce staring at Magnus in favor of lowering their heads in remembrance.

Alec takes an imperceptibly shaky breath – so discreet that Magnus doesn’t think he would have heard it if he didn’t know him so well, if he didn’t have his memories back. “In the years before, and in the months since, we suffered many losses, and we’ve had to rebuild our entire community. Not just the Nephilim, but the entire Shadow World.” Alec pauses, and Magnus sees him nod at Lorenzo. “I’m glad that we are able to gather for such a joyous occasion once again, and that so many of you could come here to celebrate. As the Head of this Institute, I am deeply honored to be hosting this wedding, the first of its kind and hopefully the first of many. Most of you know my story,” Alec’s eyes linger on Magnus, who shivers, “and can infer why this is especially important to me.”

He brings his hand up to the small rainbow pin on his lapel that Magnus only notices just now. Looking around, he suddenly sees more pins, on Underhill and the teenage Shadowhunter Alec took under his wing last year, Kara. The brides each have a discreet golden bracelet enameled with the colors of the lesbian flag. “Queer and mixed-species people and couples have always existed. So many of us have been staying in the shadows for too long, afraid to live our truth, and I hope that this is one more step toward freedom.”

“Yay!” Aline shouts, raising her fist, and cheers erupt from the crowd. They’re louder than Magnus expects from an assembly of Shadowhunters. He only recognizes a few of them, people he met during his numerous visits to the Institute, but there are many more making noise, and he can see a handful of Downworlders unabashedly shouting along. The Consul simply watches on, a smile floating on her lips.

Has the Clave really made so much progress while he wasn’t looking? Magnus has a hard time reconciling the memories he just got back and what he’s learned since removing them. Everything is confused in his mind, the associations not quite in place, his sense of time – not great to begin with – screwed over. It feels like it was just yesterday that he stood, powerless and devastated, in Maryse’s shop as Alec broke up with him.

It feels like an eternity ago.

“I have been part of this wedding as not only the host, but also as Helen’s suggenes,” Alec continues when the shouting has stopped. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make a speech about you like some mundane best man,” he adds toward Helen with a smirk. “But I also know why you asked me to be your suggenes.”

He stands up straighter, his knuckles white on his cane. Magnus finds himself transfixed looking at him. It’s like two images of Alec keep superposing in his mind, echoing off each other and making his brain hurt. His memories of a year ago are as fresh as those of the last few weeks, but Alec has changed. He no longer stands tall apart from his people, a leader in every way, hands clasped behind his back and body poised to respond to any emergency. No, this Alec keeps one hand on his cane, his weight unevenly distributed as he favors his right side, the lines of pain indelible on his face. He still shoulders the weight of the world, but he’s surrounded, his friends and family supporting him rather than giving him space. He looks older, more pained but also wiser.

Magnus’ heart constricts in his chest. He’s missed so much.

“Helen and I haven’t known each other for very long,” Alec starts slowly, his eyes sliding over the crowd, his voice strong and low. “In fact, we met a little over a year ago. It might be surprising to some that we became such fast friends, because I’m not known to make friends easily, but we Shadowhunters often bond by fighting alongside each other.”

Magnus sees several people in the assembly nod at that. On the other side of Alec, Isabelle links hands with Simon, and they share a private look. That’s another development that Magnus didn’t see coming.

“Well, that, and being stuck together in the hospital for a solid month has a way of bringing you closer,” Alec tilts his head, a smile floating on his face, which Helen returns. Then he grows serious again. “I saw Helen’s relationship with Aline grow through hardships that most couples never even envision. Many of those hardships were the result of unfair and discriminatory customs that our people still hold to, and laws that should never have been put in place. It’s our job to change that.”

Magnus keeps a straight face, nodding along vaguely, but he’s surprised. He understands the political significance of this wedding, but he didn’t think that Alec would meet it head on in a speech meant to open the party.

“When we think about the things that we want to see change, we always think that it won’t happen in a day, that we have time. Or we think that we need to look to others to guide us,” Alec’s eyes land on Maryse, and Magnus sees her swallows hard. “But the truth is that we never know what will happen to derail us from our plans. We never know if the people we look up to will still be here tomorrow, or if they will prove worthy of the trust that we put in them. And when it comes to people’s lives, there is no later. There is no waiting for the right moment.”

He lets the words land and takes a breath, the shaky edge of it betraying his pain to the people closest to him. “To some of you, it may seem like being unable to marry the person you love, or to be yourself fully, are very small concerns when we spend our days fighting demons and trying to protect the world. I used to think so. I used to think that the weight I was struggling under didn’t matter, because I had a duty. But then I met other people who were carrying the same weight, or a similar one.” Magnus sees Alec meet Kara’s eyes, though he doesn’t single her out. “I met people who I was taught to disparage and oppress,” Alec makes a sweeping gesture toward where the Seelie representatives have amassed. “I met Magnus,” he adds in a lower voice, like it’s only meant for Magnus himself. Magnus wants to reach out, but he doesn’t, too unsure about where they stand right now.

He feels tears pooling at his eyes, and he tries to blink them away. This is the man he chose to forget. The man he left alone through the most painful moments of his life.

He’s hit by the change, the difference between the Alec who ran down from the altar and made his first real stand, and the Alec who stands here today, calm and certain as he speaks his truth and exposes the fight he intends to lead. There is nothing left of the boy who tried to make his parents proud.

And yet this Alec is just as unflinchingly righteous, as staunchly protective of his loved ones, as impossibly selfless. You will blow up the very ground you stand on to make something right, Magnus told Alec once. He’s never been as right as he was that day, before he even really knew Alec, before he fell in love so irreversibly.

Alec will fight for the things that matter to him no matter the cost to himself. He’s already changed the Clave so much that he can stand here in front of an assembly of Shadowhunters and call them out without fear of reprisal.

Magnus aches for the price he’s paid.

Alec straightens again, hiding a wince. “We are a people of warriors,” he says. “And warriors are never as efficient and as powerful as they are when they can be themselves fully. We value training and obedience, but how can anyone be expected to trust their leaders and follow orders if they are not trusted and respected in return? We have a duty to protect, but how can we claim to protect the ones that we oppress ourselves?”

He lets the words settle, and for a moment, no one moves, like time has frozen. Then Underhill breaks his stance to put a hand over his heart, the rustle of his sleeve breaking the silence. Kara follows suit, tears running down her face. Magnus sees a few more Shadowhunters from the Institute imitate the gesture, and Helen is also openly crying.

Alec bows his head to the Shadowhunters, and gives Helen a small smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m done,” he smirks, his gaze sweeping over the most disgruntled of the Clave officials. “This was a beautiful wedding, and we’re going to have a great reception. But mark this night. For us, it is so much more important than just one union, and I don’t think the brides will disagree with me.”

“Never!” Aline shouts, throwing herself in Alec’s arms. Magnus sends a discreet trail of magic behind Alec’s back to help him stabilize, but it’s not even needed, as Alec has anticipated Aline’s weight enough to balance them both.

Helen is more restrained, but she hugs Alec tightly. “Thank you so much,” Magnus can just hear her murmur.

“Congratulations,” Alec tells her, returning her hug. “You deserve it so much.”

There is a look on Helen’s face as she pulls back that Magnus can’t interpret. She turns toward him, and he feels uncomfortable, like he’s missing something. Magnus thinks for a moment that she’s going to say something, but she shakes her head and moves on, with one last squeeze of Alec’s forearm.

Magnus frowns after her in confusion as she turns away. Then it hits him. Alec was going to propose to him that night on the roof of the Institute. If he hadn’t removed his memories, if Alec hadn’t made that deal with his father, this wedding would have been theirs.

Instead, they’re here looking sideways at each other, with no idea how to bridge the gap between them, like they’re right back at the start.

*

“How did you know to invite me?” Magnus asks Isabelle later, when Alec has been swept up by the Clave officials. They’re both standing at the back of the room, observing the brides receiving congratulations.

Isabelle’s mood is indefinable. She seems elated, joyful in an exhausted kind of way, but she stares at Alec’s back for a little too long, and her smile drops without her noticing.

“The wards, the trial, the wedding… I saw the pattern,” she says. Then she smirks a little, turning toward Magnus. “You’ve become predictable, Magnus Bane.”

Magnus laughs. “You’re an incurable romantic, Isabelle.”

“No,” Isabelle shakes her head, a shadow coming over her eyes as she glances at Alec again. “I’m not. But you are.”

Magnus swallows. He opens his mouth, unsure how to answer that – does she really still think that, after he forgot her brother for ten months? But he supposes that from an outside perspective, he and Alec do resemble one of those tragic stories that always make him tear up, no matter how many iterations of them he has seen or read.

He can only hope that their story doesn’t end the way they all seem to.

Jace sweeps in before Magnus can decide on an answer. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

Isabelle gives her brother a dubious look, but she steps back with a nod, heading in the direction of her mother.

“What is it?” Magnus asks Jace.

“I want to talk about Alec.” Jace doesn’t beat around the bush. Magnus looks around for Clary, who he half-expected to find stuck to Jace’s side, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

“We haven’t even talked yet,” Magnus says slowly, unsure where this is headed.

“I know. I just… If you’re going to get back with him, you need to understand something.”

“Is this a shovel talk?” Magnus asks, masking his unease with amusement, faced with Jace’s unusually serious face. We need to do our job and protect Alec, echoes in his head. Right now that means keeping him away from you. With a renewed understanding of Jace’s protectiveness, it resonates differently than it did back then, when he’d just saved Alec’s life. Magnus finds that he can’t predict Jace’s reaction to him taking his memories back at all. Perhaps because Jace, just like Alec, has been through hell, and he didn’t come out the same man that Magnus knew.

“No,” Jace says simply. “You don’t need that. And Alec doesn’t need my help kicking your ass anymore than Izzy, if it comes to that. I can’t even scare Simon anymore. Max, though… Anyway.” He grows serious again, and Magnus braces himself. “I’m really glad that you decided to do this. Give Alec a chance, or whatever it is. But you need to know that what Alec’s been through, it’s… He’s hurting. And it’s not just about you, not just because you didn’t remember him. It’s not going to go away overnight now that you’re back.”

“I know,” Magnus says quietly. “Of course I know.”

“Clary and I aren’t together.” Jace looks straight at him as he says that. “What happened to her, to us, wasn’t something that either of us chose, but we can’t just move past it like that. We’re working through things, but it’s not easy. She’s going to the Academy next month.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“Yeah,” Jace nods gravely. “She needs the space, the chance to find out where she fits in our world. It’s been hell, to have her so close and yet so far away, but now that I know that she’s okay, she’s doing something that she wants, it’s different. I need time, too. The last few years, it’s been one thing after the other, we never got to breathe. I need to figure out who I am, outside of all of that.”

Magnus nods. “I understand.”

“Alec needs that time, too. I’m not… I haven’t been the best brother – he chewed us out for giving you the letters this morning – or the best parabatai, but I will be there for him as much as I can. And I hope that you will be, too.”

“I intend to be,” Magnus says. “In whatever way he will have me.”

Jace exhales slowly and nods. He doesn’t quite look at Magnus as he stumbles over his next words. “I – I don’t have the words to explain how bad it’s been, but I’ve missed you. I mean, I’ve missed you because Alec has, and we’re parabatai, but I’ve also missed you, you know?”

Magnus stares at him, gobsmacked. Jace opens his arms to hug him, and it takes Magnus a moment too long to respond in kind. Who would have thought that Jace Herondale would miss him?

When they pull apart, Magnus sees him with new eyes. He notices the new lines on his face, the weight he’s lost, a mirror to Alec in many ways.

“Thank you,” Magnus murmurs. “For looking after him while I was… gone.”

Jace swallows and doesn’t answer, turning his face away instead to keep his composure. Magnus lets him and turns back toward the crowd.

He spots Alec a little way away, still talking to Jia Penhallow. Madzie has found him, and she’s snuggled against his good leg, timidly looking up at the adults around her. Catarina is patiently watching them a few steps behind. Jia bends down to talk to Madzie, and Madzie buries her head into Alec’s hip.

Magnus’ breath catches at the sight. Who would have thought it possible? The Consul of the Clave, talking to a child warlock at a gay wedding? Already raw with emotions, Magnus’ chest aches with pride and longing.

With a quick check that Jace is alright, Magnus joins Catarina. She tears her eyes off Madzie to look him up and down.

“Since you’re here, I assume that means you’ve made a choice?” she asks neutrally.

Magnus knows her enough to know that her flat tone means she has many thoughts on the subject, but she’s containing herself.

“I reintegrated the memories last night,” he says, just as seemingly detached.

Catarina’s shoulders drop imperceptibly, and Magnus can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment. He hopes for the first, but he also knows how protective of him she can get, when it’s about people who have broken his heart.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks. “Any dizziness? Confusion?”

“I got over the shock in a few hours,” Magnus shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t have done it on your own.”

“I needed to.”

Magnus isn’t sure what would have happened, if Catarina or someone else had been there last night. He stands by his choice, he doesn’t regret it, but he doesn’t know if his friends would have tried to talk him out of it, or if they would have succeeded. His state of mind last night – his state of mind during the whole ten months he spent without these memories, if he’s honest – is hard to hold onto. It feels a bit like waking up from an opium-induced slumber – not that Magnus has done that in many years.

“Alec is good with Madzie,” Catarina says.

She’s relieved, then. Good. Magnus isn’t in any mood to fight with his oldest friend today. He observes as Alec braces himself on a table and picks Madzie up for a hug, briefly, before setting her back down. The Clave officials have moved on, and Madzie takes Alec’s hand to drag him over to Catarina and Magnus.

“Are you two having fun?” Catarina asks.

Alec looks exhausted, but his smile is sweet when it’s directed at Madzie, who launches into a halted recount of everything that’s happened in the ten minutes she was away from her mother. Alec’s gaze turns into something more complicated when he glances up at Magnus, but it’s still mostly wonder.

Madzie is now apparently on a first name basis with Jia Penhallow, and Magnus’ heart gives a pang again. He shares a meaningful look with Catarina before she herds Madzie away gently, leaving him and Alec alone.

“I have to hand it to you, Alexander,” Magnus declares, deliberately echoing his renewed memories. “You certainly know how to make a statement.”

Alec snorts. “So you liked my speech?”

“For someone who doesn’t speak a lot, you sure know how to find the right words.”

The words don’t just apply to Alec’s speech, and Magnus can see in his eyes that Alec knows it, too.

“I’m almost done with my duties for today,” Alec says quietly. “Then we can go up to my room? Would that be okay?”

Magnus hesitates for a second. While he does have good memories there, Alec’s room at the Institute mostly reminds him of the days leading up to their breakup, when he was homeless and powerless – memories that he’s hardly had time to process, given that he put them away for ten months. But he doesn’t offer to go to his loft instead. He understands that Alec doesn’t want to go far, not when he’s leaving in just a few hours, and their talk at the loft yesterday must have been agonizing for Alec. Without his memories, Magnus saw it, but he didn’t quite realize how bad it was.

“Of course,” he nods.

Jens, Alec’s second, walks up to them. He gives Magnus a long look, then nods at him stiffly. Magnus deliberately holds his gaze, but he keeps his arms in front of him, hands in full view, nonthreatening. Jens is protective of Alec – with reason – and Magnus can respect that.

“Is it done?” Alec asks Jens, interrupting their silent conversation.

Jens immediately turns to him. “Yes. Six a.m. It will be noon there when you arrive.”

“Thank you, Jens. That’s perfect.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last look at Magnus – a little warmer, maybe because of Alec’s rare smile – Jens walks away again. Magnus fidgets with a button on his jacket, suddenly unsure what to do.

“I got Jens to move my portal to Alicante to right before my first meeting,” Alec explains. “I leave at six, so we have all night.”

Magnus exhales. That gives them twelve hours. Twelve hours to talk and figure out where they stand before Alec leaves for Alicante for Lilith knows how long.

“Let’s not waste any of it, then,” he whispers.

*

Alec’s room hasn’t changed much. Magnus thought it would make his skin crawl, to be back here where everything fell apart, but it doesn’t. It’s too fresh in his mind. It’s like stepping back here after a few days away, like there isn’t a giant schism in his mind between then and now. It almost settles something in him.

He could retrace that morning, when Alec proposed a dinner on the roof. I’m one lucky man. Their last happy moment before it fell apart.

Before it fell apart again. The whirlwind of their relationship, far too much crammed in too little time, feels like they started to fall apart before they even met, and never stopped falling. That day in Maryse’s shop was just meeting the ground.

And after such a long fall, the landing was harsh. It broke them both irreparably.

“Are you doing okay?” Alec asks almost as soon as they walk through the door, closing it behind them. “The memories, it must have been overwhelming.”

Magnus doesn’t even know why he’s surprised, because that’s Alec through and through. Always taking care of everyone else before himself.

“It was, but I’m alright,” he says. Part of him wants to press Alec with questions, questions about his injured leg, his health, everything that Magnus has seen and yet missed, too detached to truly care. But it’s not hard to tell that it’s not time yet.

There is a suitcase, a smaller bag and a pair of crutches at the foot of the bed. Everything is ready for Alec to leave for Alicante. It seems like very little to take with him, but the room barely has a personal touch anymore. Magnus remembers realizing too late after Alec offered to move into the loft that all of Alec’s scant possessions, save for a few suits, had already made it there, and he’d as good as moved in long before he even brought it up. To Magnus, whose houses and apartments are filled to the brim with various belongings he’s hoarded over centuries, it seemed impossible.

It also means that when he gave up the loft to Lorenzo as payment, he deprived not onlyhimself but also Alec of a home. However comfortable Alec appears to be at the Institute, it’s never been a safe space for him, let alone an environment free of judgment.

Alicante is probably going to be even worse.

“The wedding was beautiful,” Magnus says when Alec stands silent for a little too long. The words that matter seem to be stuck somewhere between them, impossible to articulate.

Alec’s face lights up slightly. “Yeah. I’m happy for them.”

Magnus nods, and they fall silent again.

“Do you mind, um, if we sit?” Alec hesitates.

“No, of course.” Magnus looks around. Neither the window seat nor the armchair in the corner appeal to him. He wants to be as close to Alec as Alec will allow it.

With a few efficient moves, Alec leans his cane against the nightstand and takes off his jacket and his tie. He sits down on the bed and kicks off his shoes. With a wince of pain, he scoots over and slides his legs up on the bed, folding the left one under him. Once settled against the headboard, he looks up at Magnus expectantly.

“You want me to—” Magnus gestures to the bed.

Alec nods, tilting his head slightly to the side. Magnus wonders if they’re that out of sync or simply walking on eggs around each other. He can’t tell what Alec expects.

Perhaps Alec doesn’t know himself, because when Magnus doesn’t move quite fast enough, he drops his head and takes a shuddering breath.

Magnus shakes himself and banishes his shoes before sitting cross-legged on his side of the bed – if they even still have sides. He positions himself opposite Alec, because he wants to be able to see his face.

“Was it painful?” Alec asks.

He’s back to asking about the memories. Magnus scrambles to catch up. “Not for long,” he says. Mostly because he passed out. His synapses rearranging themselves was not a fun sensation. It was just as bad the other way around, but the spell took that memory with it, so Magnus had the displeasure of experiencing both at the same time when they came back. “Everything’s back where it belongs now. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I suspect it’s going to take me a while to rebuild the proper associations. The memories are there, but accessing some of them will be challenging for some time.”

“Okay,” Alec nods, looking like he doesn’t know what else to say. He has a sort of wonder in his eyes, like he still can’t believe that Magnus is here.

“Alexander—” Magnus starts, with no real idea what he’s going to say.

Alec tenses minutely, and then he relaxes and melts, the corners of his mouth coming up. “Magnus,” he smiles, and there’s so much emotion in the name that Magnus feels his throat knot up again. “I thought I’d never hear you say my name like that again.”

It jolts Magnus. Please don’t call me that. Fuck. He can’t imagine how hard it must have been for Alec.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I… The things we said yesterday—”

“It’s okay,” Alec whispers.

“How can it be okay?”

“You’re here.”

Magnus raises his head slowly, hesitantly, to look at Alec. Alec meets his eyes briefly and smiles, before settling his gaze further up, where the silver glitter in his hair must be attracting his eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” he adds.

It’s a simple pronouncement, but the slight rasp in Alec’s voice adds a depth that takes Magnus at the throat. They’re not touching, and it suddenly feels wrong, so Magnus extends his hand.

He understands, and hates, Alec’s slight hesitation before he takes Magnus’ hand in his. For the last ten months, he’s looked at Magnus and a stranger stared back at him. This isn’t a wound that can be erased in a handclap.

“I meant it,” Magnus says, plunging in. Alec blinks. “What I said yesterday. The deal you made with my father, you didn’t have the right to make that choice for me.” It seems better to air it out now, rather than wait. Alec is obviously exhausted, but neither of them will find any soothing until they know where they stand with each other.

“I know,” Alec says softly, unsurprised. “I’m sorry. I meant what I said, too. Every word.”

Magnus searches his memory through the fuzziness.

There was no choice I could make that ended with me being happy.

He closes his eyes. The pain of it is so much sharper than it was yesterday. Because yesterday he didn’t know Alec. He didn’t know how hard Alec had fought to be with him. Not just the Clave and the prejudices of both their peoples, but also the war he had to wage with himself to feel worthy of their relationship. Of the space he takes on Earth.

If I were in your place, I wouldn’t choose me.

Fuck.

“You were wrong,” Magnus says suddenly. “About why I never erased Camille’s memories. Sure, her manipulative tendencies came into it, but… I’ve also had other breakups that hurt like hell. I’ve had lovers who rejected me, who disappeared, who died after decades together, and I always kept their memories.”

“Then—” Alec starts, lost and stricken.

Magnus takes a breath, and makes himself keep his eyes on Alec’s face. “You breaking up with me hurt me more than any other breakup before, because I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else.”

Alec stares, frozen. Magnus realizes that he’s never told him. Sure, he’s told him many times that he loves him, that what they have is special, but… never like this. He’s known almost from the start – since the day of the Soul Sword massacre, probably. Maybe it stemmed from their contrary circumstances, the unlikely love story of a centuries-old warlock and an inexperienced Shadowhunter, but his feelings were always more intense than anything he’s experienced before.

But Alec looked shocked.

“I—I never—” he stammers. “When I made the deal, I thought that… We’d only been together for a couple of years—”

“Almost three,” Magnus slides in.

“I know,” Alec waves it away with some annoyance. “But you’re centuries old, and you’re not even good at keeping track of time. When I offered to move in, you thought it had been a couple months.”

Magnus feels his face heat up in shame. Alec isn’t wrong – he’s terrible at remembering the time – but it doesn’t make each day any less important to him. But through his actions, he must have done something to make Alec feel otherwise.

Their fight over the memento box comes into a new light, once paired with Alec’s specific brand of self-sacrifice. It wasn’t, as Magnus thought at the time, that Alec was jealous of his past lovers, or the ones yet to come. It was Alec questioning whether their relationship was worth the pain it would bring Magnus when it inevitably ended.

And Magnus made him feel like he would easily move on.

Fuck.

“I knew it would hurt,” Alec says, still following his own train of thoughts. “The last thing I wanted was to do that to you. But once I’d heard the deal… I went through it again and again in my head and I couldn’t see any other way.” He takes a shaky breath. “I asked Jace if he’d let go of Clary. He said he wouldn’t. In the end, he didn’t have a choice.”

“What are you saying?” Magnus asks softly. “That it would have happened anyway?”

Alec shrugs, looking away. “Probably. I’m a Shadowhunter. I almost died in Alicante. I should have died. And even if I miraculously live until I’m ninety, won’t that just make the pain worse when I’m gone?”

Magnus’ heart rises to his throat. “No, Alec. It won’t. Every day I get to spend with you just makes the pain worth it.”

Alec shivers and crosses his arms against his chest.

“Even I can’t see the future,” Magnus hammers in. “I could die tomorrow.”

Alec shakes his head in denial, but his heart is clearly not in it.

“I could die tomorrow,” Magnus repeats. “And if I did, then I would rather spend today with you magicless and mortal than be apart from you.”

Alec inclines his head just a little, an acceptance of sorts. He stays silent for a long while, and Magnus respects that, observing him. He had deep circles around his eyes, the concealer Isabelle probably put on him losing its efficacy. He looks tired and gaunt. Magnus can barely conceive what he’s been through in the last year.

He’s still beautiful. He’s still the man Magnus fell in love with – twice. Twice. Magnus feels a pulse of misplaced gratefulness, that he got that. The chance to know that if he was taken back to the start, he wouldn’t change a thing. He would still fall deep and hard for Alec.

“I think I have a better idea of what it was like for you now,” Alec says, and it takes Magnus a moment to understand what he means. “To lose your magic. To lose such a big part of yourself and feel… diminished. I’m not saying that I understand what you went through, but—I’m saying that I definitely didn’t understand then. I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, that I tried to fix you, and you’re right. I had no right to do that, let alone without telling you. I’m really sorry.”

Magnus nods. Alec apologized yesterday, but hearing it now settles something in him. “And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you,” he nods to Alec’s bad leg.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I broke up with you.”

“Yes, and if I’d just waited a little, tried to see if I could get over you at all, I would have figured out what you did and found some way to stop my father,” Magnus says. “Instead, I erased my memories and left you to fight alone in Alicante, to deal with everything on your own.”

His voice almost breaks at the end. Magnus removed Alec from his mind, and the next day, Alec almost died on a battlefield half a world away. He went through months of slowly wasting away, and then the whole process of adjusting to a new disability, and Magnus wasn’t there.

For all his faults, Alec was present and supportive every step of the way when Magnus struggled to adjust to his lack of magic, and the only things he missed were the things Magnus actively hid from him.

“I wasn’t alone,” Alec corrects softly. “And you saved my life. You didn’t even know me, but you still saved me.”

“I couldn’t understand why I felt such a connection to you,” Magnus remembers. “I got a glimpse of your memories of me, you know. When I was healing you. After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“That was months ago.”

“Yes. It took me a long time to figure things out. I’m sorry about that, too.”

Alec sighs. “Magnus, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Don’t apologize.”

“Your letters were heartbreaking,” Magnus breathes.

It’s an euphemism. They were barely tolerable when he didn’t have his memories, but now? He doesn’t know if he could reread them. Which is exactly why he will, as soon as he gets a chance. Alec deserves as much.

Alec bites his lip. “I needed some kind of outlet, but I never meant for you to actually read them.”

“I’m glad I did. I’m sorry for stealing them, but they helped me understand things and make the decision.”

“Do you regret it?” Alec asks almost dreamily. “Taking your memories back?”

Magnus makes sure his voice is strong and clear. There can be no doubt here. “Not for a second.”

Alec lets out a breath, but there’s still that same doubt in his eyes.

“Alexander,” Magnus prompts him to look him in the eye. Alec does, briefly. “Now that I have them back, I can’t even imagine not wanting them.”

Every minute I spent with you was worth the pain it causes me today.

Alec is so much stronger than Magnus. He powered through all this pain for months, with no end in sight, when Magnus made the selfish decision the first chance he got.

“Nothing will ever erase the past months,” he adds. “And I’m so sorry about that. But I don’t, and I will never regret choosing you.”

Alec bites back a sob and buries his face in his hands.

I was so in love that I didn’t see that the only thing I could bring you was pain.

Magnus swallows against the memory of that line from Alec’s letters. When he read it, memory-less and still learning to know Alec, he almost took it at face-value. Now it hits him like a ton of bricks.

Alec may have been trying to rationalize their breakup and his own imminent death, but it doesn’t mean that he didn’t believe every word of it. There are so many things in the letters that they will need to address eventually, so much self-hatred and disregard for his own well-being, all the intrusive thoughts that Alec worked so hard to quiet, back in full force.

But Magnus can’t fix that. He can’t fix Alec any more than Alec could fix him, because it’s not about fixing anything. It’s about loving Alec enough for Alec to learn to love himself.

“I love you so much, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Alec’s shoulders shake with sobs as he finally lets go. “I love you too,” he murmurs brokenly.

Magnus questioningly lays a hand on his arm, and when Alec leans into the touch, he takes it as permission to to gather him into his arms. He hugs Alec tightly and Alec hangs onto him like a lifeline as he weeps.

They sit here for what feels like an eternity, Alec’s sobs slowly subsiding, Magnus sniffling around his own uncontrolled tears. Magnus is acutely aware of their limited time, but he also knows that they need this, badly.

Finally, Alec stretches and gently pushes Magnus back. He shifts his position with a wince and a shaky breath, pained.

“You okay?” Magnus asks.

“Yeah, just need to—” Alec finishes with a vague gesture. He slips his stele out of his pocket and traces a rune on the inside of his left wrist. Magnus remembers glimpsing it before, but he doesn’t recognize the pattern.

“This one’s new,” he says, as neutrally as possible. He feels like he hardly has the right to ask about what Alec does with his body, after everything, and yet he’s as endlessly curious as he’s always been – if not more. This is a body he’s mapped and admired for countless hours, trailing his fingers over each rune, kissing them until he left his own marks. He wants to get Alec naked and catalog the changes, kiss the scars and engulf him with love, but he’s scared, too. He’s scared that it’s not what Alec wants. He’s scared that it’s going to be different – he’s scared that it’s going to be the same, and all they’ve gone through since will feel senseless, purposeless.

He’s scared that it will finally drive home that it’s been ten months and a lifetime of pain, and there’s no going back to the way it was before.

So he just stares at the rune and tries to convince himself that he’s just curious about runes.

“Painless rune,” Alec explains. His body relaxes minutely as it takes effect, and Magnus realizes how tense he’s been.

“I’ve never seen it before,” he frowns.

“You wouldn’t have. Only the Silent Brothers can draw it. We have more efficient pain relief for the field, but this is the only one that works in the long term.”

Magnus is grateful for it and hates that Alec needs it in the same breath. “How painful is it?” he asks softly, his gaze coming down to Alec’s hip again, even though there’s nothing to see. He knows that this is where the injury is, but clothed like this, Alec looks the same.

Alec sighs a little, like he doesn’t really want to tell Magnus. “Most of the time it just aches,” he says. “It’s worse when I spend too much time on my feet, or when the weather is wet. The Pervious venom left some nerve damage, too, and that’s a little more unpredictable.”

“I did my best to get it all out,” Magnus says, biting his lip. He hates this. He hates thinking of Alec in pain. He hates sitting here, inches away from Alec but unable to touch him.

He hates the cautiousness in Alec’s gaze, the way he holds his breath every time Magnus moves, like—

Is Alec afraid of him? Did Magnus hurt him so badly while his memories were gone – or by erasing his memories in the first place – that Alec is expecting more pain from him?

Or…

Magnus shifts his position, and now that he’s looking for it, he sees it, in the aborted flinch Alec tries to hide. Alec is reaching toward him, not away from him. He’s scared that Magnus will leave.

Magnus swallows a sob.

“You saved my life,” Alec whispers. “You did what no one else could have done. It’s okay, Magnus.”

Magnus closes his eyes. It’s not okay. Maybe he couldn’t do more to heal Alec, but he should have been there.

Alec’s hand comes to cover his on the bed, and Magnus opens his eyes in surprise. Alec has leaned over, face taut with pain, to reach him. Magnus immediately scoots over, and Alec takes his hand fully between his own. He fiddles with Magnus’ rings for a moment.

“I’m the same person I’ve always been, you know,” he says.

Magnus’ breath catches. “Of course,” he mutters. “I know. I just… I’ve missed so much.”

“You’re looking at me like… the way people look at me now. Like I’m fragile. Broken.”

Magnus shakes his head and reaches out with his free hand. He waits for Alec’s tiny nod before cupping his neck, keeping his grasp strong to avoid the brushing touches Alec doesn’t like.

“I don’t pity you, Alexander,” he states. “I love you, and I hate seeing you in pain. And I don’t want to let you handle it alone anymore.”

Alec swallows. “I still have to leave.”

Magnus turns his head and eyes the suitcase at the foot of the bed. “For Alicante?”

“Yes. I can’t let Jia down now. Even if I don’t run for Inquisitor, I’ll still need to do the interim until the election.”

“I understand,” Magnus nods, and it’s true, even if his heart is a mess of tangled feelings about this.

“I’ll come back,” Alec says. “Every weekend, if I can get away with it. We can video chat.”

Magnus nods again. Alec searches his face for a moment and takes a deep breath. “I think it might be better for us to have that distance. For me, at least. Not forever, but… I can’t go back and pretend nothing happened.”

“Alexander, whether we’re together or not, we’re not going to do that. We can take it slow, we can—” Magnus’ voice breaks. As much as he wants to advocate for doing things the healthy way, the thought of Alec so far away makes it hard to breathe.

Alec squeezes his hand. “I’m going to go to therapy,” he says. “Mom has a friend, a mundane therapist who knows about the Shadow World. I—I was going to try anyway, but now… I want to work through this and be the partner you deserve.”

Magnus closes his eyes. “You already are. You’ve always been. Therapy is a great idea, but you need to do it for you.”

You have to choose what’s right for you, Alec told him yesterday, an echo that Magnus couldn’t even appreciate of his own words so long ago. He did. He made the hard choice, and he chose to face the truth. He chose Alec.

And now he needs to let Alec go so Alec can heal.

He opens his eyes and imprints every feature of Alec’s beautiful, tired face into his mind. Weekends and video chats. It will have to do. They’ll make it work somehow.

“That’s why I need to leave,” Alec says, his voice soft but unwavering. He reaches out and brings Magnus closer until their brows are touching.

“I know,” Magnus breathes.

“I have no right to ask you this,” Alec murmurs. “But will you wait for me?”

You’ve waited for me for ten months, Magnus wants to answer. I’ll wait for you forever if that’s what it takes. “As long as you need,” he says instead. “I’ll be right here.”

Chapter Text

Six months later

“Izzy proposed to Simon,” Alec announces.

He’s sitting in an armchair in his living room, facing the large bay windows overlooking the city. Alicante is covered in snow and lit by the soft glow of the demon towers. The view is beautiful, but Alec’s entire attention is on the laptop on his lap, which he holds steady with one hand, the other twirling the golden dragon head of his cane by the chair. He has his bad leg elevated on an ornate foot rest, taking advantage of at least some of the ridiculous opulence of the Inquisitor’s accommodations.

Magnus looks back at him from the laptop screen, smiling with his mouth full as he devours a late lunch after a hard morning at work building up wards. The six-hour time difference is familiar to them by now, but it was the cause of many late nights and early mornings in the last months.

Magnus swallows his mouthful before raising his eyebrows. “Really? I thought she was waiting for Simon to get his head out of his ass.”

Alec laughs. “She decided that waiting for the man to propose was letting the patriarchy win. Or something.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to congratulate them when I see them,” Magnus says. “They’re good for each other. Do they have a date already?”

Alec bites his lip. He can’t quite look at Magnus’ image on the screen as he responds. “Izzy… Izzy asked me if I was okay with them getting married before us.”

Magnus’ breath catches, clearly enough that it’s audible even over the sometimes dodgy connection. “Are you?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Alec whispers. “I think so. She said that she’d gladly wait if I wanted her to, but… Helen and Aline’s wedding was hard, but this is different.”

“Because we’re together?”

Alec nods. It took them months to put words on their relationship again after Magnus took his memories back, but they never considered themselves single. They used boyfriends, before. Now it’s more often partners. It fits everything they are, more than just lovers or even boyfriends. For all that they haven’t been in the same physical space often, they’ve grown closer for it. They’ve spent many a night talking well into the early hours – Magnus’ early hours – and learning about each other’s history and inner world.

It’s been a hard journey. The first few months in Alicante were brutal for Alec, the workload near impossible to meet while also lobbying for his Inclusion Laws, trying to fish out Goldstream’s supporters in the Council, dealing with bi-weekly therapy and talking things through with Magnus. Thankfully, Jens did a wonderful job at the New York Institute of picking up the slack that Izzy wasn’t able to handle and Alec didn’t have to handle that transition, as well.

Once the Inclusion Laws passed in the Council, by a narrow margin, things got a little easier. They all celebrated that victory at the Hunter’s Moon, decked out in pride flags for the occasion. It was a truly beautiful moment. Alec doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the face Kara made when he presented her with her new Idrisian ID, in her chosen name and proper gender. Her testimony was one of the most instrumental in swinging the hesitant Council members to their side, and Alec had her papers prepared to be the first ones made, as soon as the vote was tallied.

It also marked the first time Alec and Magnus spent the night together at the loft since Alec left for Alicante. Alec mostly remembers falling asleep at the bar, elated but exhausted by the time difference, and Magnus portalling them both to his bedroom. Since then, they’ve stolen as many hours as they could get away with to cuddle and make out, and occasionally more, every time Alec has managed to come back.

Alec shakes himself out of his thoughts and leans his cane on the armrest of his chair. He leans over to grab the small box he put on the coffee table before he called Magnus.

“I wanted you to see this,” he says.

“What is it?”

Magnus peers at his screen as Alec opens the box and shows him the ring inside. It’s awkward and weird, trying to angle it so that the camera autofocuses on it. Alec hates it a little. But he needs to do this.

“The Lightwood ring,” he answers. “I asked Mom for it just before… before. You were not doing well and it would have been a terrible time to ask you, but I was… I thought in some way I needed to prove to you that I still loved you even without your magic, because for me it only cemented the idea that I wanted to spend my life with you. I wasn’t thinking about—well, I was thinking about what you were going through, but not from the right perspective, I know that now. I didn’t understand it the way you needed me to, and then when you broke down I overreacted the other way and—”

“Breathe, Alexander,” Magnus says softly.

Alec realizes that he’s rambling and hyperventilating. He swallows and forces himself to calm down. “Sorry. What I mean to say is, I love you. I love you so much, but… I don’t want to make the same mistakes again. The past year has been...” he trails off, searching for the right words.

“Spectacularly bad,” Magnus provides when he fails to come up with a description.

“Yeah. So I’m not ready to ask you, not yet. But I want you to know that it’s something I want for us, for the future. I’m holding on to this.”

Magnus watches him silently for a moment, and his eyes look a little misty. “I’ll hold you to it, then,” he says softly.

Alec nods and smiles. He puts the ring back into the box and places it back on the table, giving Magnus time to process his emotions.

“What did Izzy propose with?” Magnus asks after a while.

“The Trueblood ring. My grandmother was the last one to wear it, since Mom’s brother was deruned.”

“He was deruned? I didn’t know about that.”

Alec nods. “Yeah, he fell in love with a mundane and he asked to be deruned.” He swallows. “He was, uh… Mom says he never found his place in Alicante. He was chronically ill and disabled. It doesn’t really mix well with our ways.”

Magnus seems to understand Alec’s dejection right away. “Alexander, just because he couldn’t find where he belonged doesn’t mean you can’t. You’re changing things in the Clave already. You’re making it better for people who don’t—fit in.”

Alec shakes his head to get rid of the sudden bittersweet mood. “Anyway, he died a few years back, but Mom got in contact with his wife when she was deruned. Colleen’s my therapist, actually.”

“Ah, you never told me how Maryse found you a mundane therapist,” Magnus smiles. “I wondered.”

“She’s good,” Alec says.

“I have no doubt. I can see how she’s helped, you know.”

Alec nods and tilts his head. It’s true. Colleen’s help has been invaluable, and he’s made a lot of progress in six months, despite the stumbling stones in his way. He’s still taking medication for his depression and anxiety, and he’s not out of the woods yet, but things are looking up.

“I’ve booked a portal for Friday evening,” he says. He’s coming home, finally. The elections for the new Inquisitor took place a few days ago, and Jia’s candidate, whom Alec has sponsored since he decided not to run, got the majority without breaking a sweat. The transfer of power ceremony will happen on Friday morning, and Alec will be free to come back to New York, where his old job awaits him.

Magnus winces. “I tried to change my schedule, but the Spiral Council meeting can’t be moved, and then I have to be at Pandemonium in the evening. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. We’ll have all weekend to make up for it.” Alec has already planned to spend the entire weekend lounging in the loft before he takes his functions on Monday. “And then we can see each other whenever we want.”

“Three days,” Magnus mutters in wonder, his eyes hungrily searching Alec’s face.

“Three days,” Alec confirms. “And I’m home for good.”

*

“Thank you, Doctor Trueblook.” Alec grimaces comically at his screen. Colleen’s background is much more professional than Magnus’ in her video calls, a simple white wall with a framed picture of a house drawn by a child. Colleen herself has a kind face, her dark brown skin in stark contrast with the wall. “That will never stop being strange. A Trueblood who isn’t a Nephilim.”

“And yet it is my legal name,” Colleen smiles. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, professionally or not, Inquisitor Lightwood.” Her tone is playful. They’ve called each other by their first name since the day of their first session, if only out of practicality.

Alec shakes his head. “As of today, I am no longer Inquisitor,” he says.

“How do you feel about that?”

Alec smirks at her immediate professional tone, compassionate but reserved. “I thought we were no longer in session,” he remarks. “But honestly? Relief. So much relief. Being an Institute Head isn’t easy every day, but it’s a lot more fulfilling, from a personal standpoint. At least I truly know the people I’m giving orders to.”

“That makes a lot of sense. I expect you’re looking forward to seeing your family?”

“Definitely. Between work and trying to spend time with Magnus, I’ve had so little time for them. I haven’t even talked to Mom in weeks, and it’s been all business with Izzy.”

The separation from Jace has been difficult, too. They haven’t been apart for this long since getting their parabatai runes, and their bond is a little frayed from so many months of Alec blocking his end to spare his brother the constant pain. Alec hopes that now that they’ll be working together again, they’ll be able to reconnect properly.

Izzy will be relieved to see him come back. She’s had six months to realize that running the Institute is a lot more work than she expected, even with Jens handling the major part of it. She’s done her best, but she doesn’t have Alec’s years of experience or his diplomacy training. She might make a good Head when she’s older, if that’s where her path takes her, but for now she’s happy with stepping back into the Weapons Master role.

“How’s little Max doing?” Colleen asks.

“He’s doing great! He passed his last field test, so he should be going back to the Academy in the fall to specialize.” Alec pauses. “He’s been asking about his namesake, lately. Since Dad passed, he’s become more curious about Mom’s side of the family. He’d like to meet you.”

“I would very much like to meet him, too,” Colleen smiles.

“We should do a family dinner one of these days. Mom’s become a surprisingly good cook. And now that I’m coming home, I’ll have a lot more time.”

“That would be nice. And maybe I could meet that partner of yours. He sounds like someone worth knowing.”

Alec laughs. “You have no idea.”

He’s spent so many sessions talking exclusively about Magnus that Colleen probably knows more about him than if they had actually met, but she and Alec have learned to accommodate the blurred lines between their professional and personal relationships, and what Alec says in a session stays there.

He looks at the time. “I’d love to chat some more, but my portal is in an hour and I have someone to pick up first,” he says.

“Of course,” Colleen smiles easily. “I’ll see you next Friday for our first in-person session.”

“That will be a nice change,” Alec smiles back.

She ends the call after their goodbyes and Alec shuts down his laptop to slide it into his backpack. Standing up from his desk chair, he takes one last look around the apartment he’s lived in for six months before he puts on his coat and grabs his cane.

His suitcases are already in the departure room of the Gard, he had them taken over this morning. The apartment is empty, and so is his office at the top level of the Gard, ready for the new Inquisitor to take her functions. He leaves the door open and his set of keys on the table as he limps to the elevator.

Angel Square is buzzing with activity at this time of the day. Alec ignores the passersby walking home from work and the group of children running around the large fountain in favor of carefully navigating the icy sidewalk up to the gates of the Academy. They’re wide open, on the first day of the winter holidays, and a few students are milling around.

He spots Clary’s red hair right away. She’s at least a decade older than the kids she’s talking with, and they look up at her with reverence as she speaks. She’s made herself quite the reputation at the Academy, as the slayer of Valentine and Jonathan. She’s made it through almost two years of coursework in six months, as Alec suspected she would, and she’ll be a fully trained Shadowhunter by the end of the school year.

“Alec!” she exclaims when she sees him approach, immediately running over to him. The kids start to follow her, but they stop in their tracks when they understand who he is, watching them in awe.

“You’ve got yourself a flock, Fray,” Alec smirks.

“Be nice to the kids,” Clary shoots back with a wide smile, her voice low enough to escape the young Nephilim. “You intimidate them.”

“If only it was for the right reasons,” Alec rolls his eyes dramatically. He’s been to the Academy a few times to give talks about the Inclusion Laws. The kids, understandably more fascinated by combat prowess than politics, invariably ask him if Jace is really the best fighter of their generation, or what it’s like to spar with Magnus. Alec doesn’t mind. He was one of those kids, once.

Clary shakes her head. “See the girl at the back?” she whispers. The children are talking quietly among themselves now, furtively throwing them looks. One girl is trailing behind, her gaze fixed on Alec. “Her name is Rina. One of her moms was killed by Jonathan at the Denver Institute. She spent the last year being bounced between family members because her other mom wasn’t allowed to adopt her until your laws passed. You’re the reason she gets to go home for the winter holidays. Some of them know exactly how important you are, Alec.”

Alec swallows around the sudden emotion flooding him and looks at the girl, who can’t be more than twelve. She watches him back steadily, shy but determined. Alec clasps a hand over his heart and she responds with the same salute, tears in her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me,” Alec tells Clary quietly, watching Rina run away with her friends.

“You deserve to know.”

Alec shifts his weight. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Clary grabs the handle of her suitcase and follows him across the plaza, to the looming building of the Gard.

When they step through the portal to the New York Institute, they find a small welcoming committee in the arrival room. Alec expected Izzy and Jens, but Jace is also there, and Clary immediately jumps into his arms. They haven’t seen each other in months, since contrary to Alec, Clary wasn’t able to portal back for the weekends.

Izzy hugs Alec warmly and takes the handle of one of the two suitcases he’s struggling to drag behind him with one hand – the one that’s full of work files and random things he’s accumulated since he left. Jens stays back, ever professional. They’ve been in constant contact, especially in the recent weeks as Alec prepared his transition back to the position of Head, but Jens still signs a silent welcome back, a warm smile on his face.

New York is six hours behind Alicante, and the ops center is near empty at this time of the morning. Alec can feel the stares of the few present Shadowhunters, and he answers several waves, but he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to interact with too many people at once. He expects he will get a more public welcome during his first briefing on Monday.

Alec takes his suitcases to his office rather than his old room. He’s not moving into Magnus’ loft quite yet, at least not officially, but he doubts that he’ll be sleeping here very often. He’ll take the suitcase filled with clothes with him later, when Gabe drives him to the loft. He opens the other one and starts sorting the files and piling them up on the desk, while Izzy drapes herself over one of the couch’s armrests. Jens keeps more decorum, sitting in an armchair with his back straight.

They exchange pleasantries and surface news of the Institute while Alec unpacks, without truly going into work matters. Alec will have a lot to catch up on, but he trusts that Jens has everything organized and ready. His mentor has a gift for keeping track of the dozens, if not hundreds, of threads needed to keep the Institute running. Alec has learned from the best.

“Max will probably come to you to complain about ichor duty,” Izzy says with a smirk, when the conversation turns to the trainees.

“The werewolf kids?” Alec asks. It’s been the subject of many of his recent conversations with both Izzy and Magnus. While sneaking out, Max and three of his friends found a group of homeless teenage werewolves who’d made their own pack in a squat, and Max somehow managed to rope Kara into teaching the kids basic self-defense and Shadow World history for months, rather than report them to Izzy or Maia. Jace eventually caught them in the act, and after re-homing the young wolves, Izzy, Maia and Magnus have been scratching their heads trying to figure out an appropriate reprimand for the kids that will teach them a lesson without deterring them from reaching out to Downworlders. In the meantime, they’ve been assigned ichor duty as the standard punishment for sneaking out.

“Yes. I still can’t believe it,” Izzy shakes her head.

“You think we wouldn’t have done the same at that age?” Alec asks, sitting down next to her.

“Mom almost disowned me for going out with a Seelie, and I was over twenty,” Izzy points out. “Do you even remember what you thought of werewolves at fourteen?”

“Yeah,” Alec sighs. And he’s ashamed of it. “Our baby brother is already better than us.” As much as he wants to strangle Max for his antics sometimes, he couldn’t be prouder. “What I don’t get is how he got Kara into this.”

“She’s still a kid,” Izzy shrugs. “A kid who has her reasons not to trust adults farther than she can throw them. And she likes to teach.”

Alec nods. He forgets sometimes that seventeen is a very young age, even for a Shadowhunter. He’d already been informally leading the Institute for a year at seventeen. Colleen helped him see that it was far too young to be made to assume such responsibilities, but Alec still struggles to remember it.

“Magnus actually proposed to let her keep teaching the Downworlder kids,” Jens interjects. “I think it’s a good idea. We could bring in Downworlder tutors for the trainees too, as part of the Cabinet program.”

Alec smiles. Since taking back his memories and being named High Warlock once more, Magnus has really stepped up for the Downworld Cabinet, and he and Izzy have developed the concept even beyond Alec’s original plans. It’s the one political pursuit that Alec thinks Izzy might be better suited to than him, and he plans to leave her the reins even as he settles back into his position.

“I’ll let you put a proposal together, but that sounds good to me,” he says.

People trickle in and out of the office to welcome Alec back, and eventually he migrates back to the ops center. Helen and Aline briefly stop by on their way out, leaving to spend the weekend in Helen’s family, and Underhill joins Alec at the ops table as he starts his shift. He shakes Alec’s hand, looking genuinely happy to see him.

Max won’t be allowed to get off ichor duty until his evening patrol, but Kara makes an appearance half-way through the afternoon, freshly showered but still vaguely smelling of demon blood.

“Sir,” she greets Alec formally, hands behind her back. She looks like she wants to hug him, Alec suspects that the scoldings she must have gotten after her stunt made her remember protocol.

“Kara,” Alec nods at her, suppressing a smile. “I’ve heard your name a lot recently.”

Kara hangs her head. “I’m sorry, sir,” she mutters. Alec doubts that she’s actually sorry for anything but getting caught, but he has no wish to reprimand her right now.

“Have you heard from your parents?” he asks instead.

Her eyes widen. “I just got a call from Mom, actually.” She takes a deep breath. “She says that my father’s been demoted. He’s no longer Head of the Prague Institute.”

“How do you feel about that?” Alec asks.

Kara opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She narrows her eyes at Alec. “You knew,” she states.

“The Inquisitor knows everything,” Alec shrugs.

He sees Underhill’s eyes widen in understanding over Kara’s shoulder. “You did this,” Underhill says.

Kara turns and looks between them, looking briefly like a fish out of water. She stares at Alec until he confirms with a nod.

“By the Angel,” she murmurs. Then she throws herself at Alec. “Thank you,” she cries as Alec braces himself with his good leg to return her hug without toppling from his stool. Kara’s affinity for hugs is near legendary in the Institute, but it’s been a while since he’s been on the receiving end of one. Thankfully, she’s careful not to make him lose his balance. “Thank you so much.”

“I only did my job,” Alec laughs.

The Svec case has been one of his ongoing cases. He couldn’t prosecute Milan Svec for his mistreatment of his daughter, as the Inclusion Laws are not retroactive and child protection isn’t exactly a strong point of their legal system in the first place, but he could prosecute him for conspiracy to commit treason with Goldstream. While Svec never acted on his threats, there was enough evidence to have him removed from the position of Institute Head permanently and forbidden from ever holding office. It was Alec’s last act as interim Inquisitor.

“No,” Underhill says flatly. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking we don’t notice that you go above and beyond for us.”

Alec looks at him over Kara’s shoulder, unsure how to answer that. “How’s Lorenzo?” he asks eventually, as Kara finally lets him go.

“Still gloating that Magnus chose him to represent the Cabinet,” Underhill smirks. He and Lorenzo have been touring Institutes all over the country to set up branches of the Cabinet with the local Downworld. Lorenzo has been surprisingly graceful about Magnus taking back the High Warlock position, and their relationship has been snarky but peaceful since Magnus advocated for him at his trial.

Sometimes, like today, it feels like the months when Magnus forgot Alec were a parenthesis, a dream that never really happened. To Alec, most of it is a blur of agony and despair, and he knows that his mind shies away from remembering that pain. He’s afraid that if he plunges back into it, he’ll drown.

They both emerged with indelible scars, broken parts that will never mend. Alec’s may be more visible from the outside, his limp a permanent reminder of his darkest moments, but Magnus’ are no less extensive. The shattered trust between them still rears its ugly head at the worst moments, tainting every one of their fights. Magnus tries too hard to avoid showing any vulnerability, terrified that Alec will leave again, or do something stupid to help him, and he inevitably lashes out when Alec tries to get him to lower his walls. What if this is the time he regrets taking his memories back? Alec can’t help wondering when it happens, as he desperately tries to avoid conflict, too scared to speak his mind. What if he realizes how much easier it is to forget? How much I don’t deserve him?

Healing is a non-linear process. They’re doing better than they were, but some days, it feels like they’re back at the start, unable to bridge the open wound between them. It’s scabbing over slowly, and Alec holds the hope that one day, it will be nothing more than another scar for their collection, that they will grow stronger for it.

They’re committed to making it work, and they will. There’s a ring in Alec’s bag waiting for them to get there. They’ve both been careful to build better support systems, people they can lean on when it gets bad. Magnus spends a lot of time at Catarina’s, spoiling Madzie and working with his oldest friend. He has Raphael and Luke and even Lorenzo. Alec has his family always ready to stand by him, but he’s found his strongest support in the people who best understand his struggles. Helen has been an incredible friend, and Alec has been over for dinner a lot at the Penhallow mansion where Aline and Helen spend half their time. Underhill has grown from a trusted coworker to a true friend, and Jens is an ever-present confidant that Alec knows he can rely on for anything.

There are hurdles still to come. Goldstream’s trial will start in a few months, and it will be a political nightmare, given the former Inquisitor’s influence. Alec doesn’t know how he’s going to handle it. Finding definite proof that Goldstream orchestrated the Pervious attack sent him into his worst depressive episode since Magnus regained his memories, and he’s still scrambling to find his footing.

The Seelies have been restless since the death of their Queen at Jonathan’s hands, and it’s only a matter of time before a diplomatic incident happens. Things are still tense between Alicante and the Downworld, especially outside of New York’s little bubble. For all of Jia’s and Alec’s efforts, the damage that the Shadowhunters have done over centuries cannot be erased. The Council still has deeply conservative, racist factions that won’t just disappear, and Alec and Magnus, as one of the most influential faces of the Shadow World’s rapprochement, will always be looking over their shoulder for the next threat.

But right now, all these issues feel far ahead. Alec is home, and he’s going to see Magnus in a couple of hours. His entire family – including the one he’s chosen for himself – will gather at the loft for Christmas in a week. Things are good.

For the first time in a long, long time, he feels like instead of looking back, he’s ready to move forward.

*

There’s something bittersweet about being back at Pandemonium after all this time. The room is crowded and the music too loud, and Alec’s leg aches from overuse. He grits his teeth as he limps along the outer wall, trying to avoid colliding with any of the sweaty, excited bodies dancing on the floor.

He hasn’t been here since the day he and his siblings came to ask Magnus for help. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get the blank look on Magnus’ face out of his mind, his gaze passing over Alec with no recognition in his eyes. He shivers at the memory, even though he’s too hot in his suit.

He forces himself out of his thoughts. Today is nothing like that. He could have waited for Magnus at the loft, like Magnus suggested, but it might be hours before Magnus can free himself from the Downworlders requiring his attention, and Alec didn’t want to wait.

The stairs to the VIP section are guarded by a werewolf bouncer, who just nods at Alec and moves aside. There’s an elevator somewhere, Alec knows – no club Magnus owns would fail to comply with accessibility regulations – but he limps up the stairs anyway, for memory’s sake. Maybe retracing his own steps will help get the wrongness out from under his skin, replace the painful reminders with something new.

Something beautiful.

Alec can tell the moment Magnus spots him across the room. Their eyes meet for an instant, and Magnus’ entire face lights up. Hey, he mouths with a smile before going back to his conversation with a couple of young-looking warlocks.

Magnus looks magnificent. His hair is long enough to tie back, now, and he has it up in a small bun, revealing the shaved sides of his head, where he’s painted swirling blue patterns. His dark blue jacket has similar patterns embroidered in velvet and silver thread, glowing under the low light of the VIP section. Like the day of Helen and Aline’s wedding, he’s wearing a corset vest under the jacket, this time black, and over it a single chain dangles from his neck.

The pendant is tiny, but unmistakable: it’s a Deflect rune, identical to the one that adorns Alec’s neck. Alec knows that everyone here has noticed it, is probably commenting on its presence right now. It’s a claim, an announcement to Magnus’ court of Downworlders, to the entirety of the Shadow World.

Magnus holds out his hand, and Alec limps over to him, slipping under his arm to sit down beside him on the couch.

“Who are you?” Magnus murmurs playfully as the two other warlocks make themselves scarce.

Alec blinks back a flashback, but the half-smile on Magnus’ lips doesn’t evoke that horrible day at all. No, it takes him straight back to their first meeting, the glint in Magnus’ eyes as he flirted, Alec’s own painful awkwardness, the instant connection.

“Hey,” he breathes, suddenly emotional.

“Hey, darling,” Magnus whispers in return, taking Alec’s hand in his.

Alec places his cane between his legs, the beautiful golden handle on display – a claim of his own. Even if he can’t see it himself, he knows that the dragon head carving is drenched in Magnus’ magic, and every warlock here will immediately spot it.

“Did you have a good day?” Magnus asks softly, just for them, letting the room stare at them.

“Long, but good,” Alec nods. With the time difference, he’s been up for over twenty-four hours. “I’m ready to go home, though. As soon as you’re ready.”

“Whatever they have to ask me can wait a few days,” Magnus decides, signaling his bouncers with a spark of magic. He waves his free hand and a portal appears right in front of them. “Tonight, I’m already taken.”

“I rather hope you’re not taken just tonight,” Alec jokes.

Magnus leans in to kiss him. “Every single day,” he smiles. “Let’s go home.”

*

Magnus is in Pandemonium, staring across the room at Alec, a bow in his hand.

He’s in his loft and standing over a pentagram, an electric jolt going through his body as he links hands with Alec.

He’s kneeling in his living room, pulling energy from the hand in his, stumbling back against Alec’s lean and muscular body, exhausted.

He’s holding up his glass and toasting with Alec, whispering words, flirting.

He’s watching Alec train, shirtless, swallowing back his desire and trying to find the words to say how much he wants him.

He’s standing in a corridor, hurt and heartbroken, Alec turning his back on him.

He’s storming into a wedding, and Alec is striding toward him, kissing him.

*

He’s alone on his balcony, surrounded by memories, his heart in pieces, broken beyond repair.

Back up.

Back to the start.

*

He’s in Pandemonium, holding hands with Alec, and they’ve got their whole life ahead of them.

Forward.