Alec Lightwood Strikes A Match: a cautionary tale
by alicecullengirl
He didn't have to. After everything, the fall of Valentine, building up the courage to face his parents, and Jace adopting the Lightwood name, Alec shouldn't have let this one thing get to him.
He called them all into a room. Jace and Clary, Isabelle, Maryse and Robert. Even Simon, who stank of Brooklyn. Even Jocelyn and Luke, whom he'd never even properly met. He called them all to sit and watch. He'd slain demons, cradled his dead brother's body against his own, fought in the final battle. He shouldn't have felt the need to prove himself. But he did.
He pulled a matchbook from his back pocket. The name of a club downtown was emblazoned on the face in glittery purple letters. All of the matches were there. They were mocking him. They said, You've never done it, and you never will. It is simply beyond you.
No, he would not bend to the mockery of a matchbook.
One match in particular caught his attention. It dripped with malice as he heard it in his head. Jace has done it. And you will never be as good as Jace.
"Damn you!" he yelled to no one in particular, ripping the match from the book. Maryse Lightwood arched an eyebrow. Clary gasped. Simon's face was blank, but he questioned the Shadowhunter's sanity.
Alec brought the match down against the coarse surface of the book. He drew the match quickly across in exultation. The room held its breath.
Nothing happened. The match bent, and they all breathed out. Furious, Alec ripped another match, sliding it across the surface. Again, there was no result.
"You want to try and hold the match tighter," Clary spoke quietly.
"And strike with more force," added Luke.
"Or buy a lighter at the bodega," Simon deadpanned. "They're, what, forty-nine cents high-end? You can even get one that says 'I Heart New York' and give it to someone as a souvenir."
Alec's eyes blazed with determination. No, it had to be this way. This glaring failure, to have never lit a match, haunted even his most pleasant dreams. Mocking him, always mocking him.
Alec pinched his fingers around one last match. He held it against the rough surface and caught Jace's eye from across the room. Jace nodded, and so did he. They were parabatai. Closer than brothers. This one's for you, said Alec's eyes. I love you, said Jace's.
He struck the match.
And it ignited.
Alec's eyes streamed. He had triumphed over the failures of his past. Jocelyn gasped. Robert Lightwood clapped, and Maryse covered her mouth with a hand. Clary's smile was warm as butter, and Jace closed his eyes against the rush of emotion. This was the best day of Luke Garroway's young life. Simon had reached a very high degree of vexation. He was extremely confused.
"Thank you all so much," Alec wailed. "This couldn't have happened without you." Alec held the match up for all to see, then cursed and dropped it.
Because it was a lit match and he hadn't put it out in time.
A/N: (awkward silence) Maybe the strangest FF ever written. Not supposed to make all that much sense, but I laughed so hard while writing it. Poor Simon, to be sitting there wondering if this was some kind of Shadowhunter thing he didn't understand. Ah well. Alec's been through a lot. The Mortal Instruments is the BEST SERIES EVER (so read it if you haven't yet. it is boss) -ACG