Author's Note: This is a rewrite
Pairing: Magnus/Alexander
Rating: T, may stay that way, may not
Reviews are very welcome
The Mourners & The Manic: Part I
"I said shh," Alec whispers, running his fingers along a piece of paper. Flimsy and thin, so patients didn't get any ideas... but what kind of patient would try to harm themselves with a piece of paper? Then again, there were some pretty strange people in here. Either way, there was thick books and there thick and sturdy paper pages were still in the lounge area, able to be accessed by all patients. So there was not a shortage of hard paper. He looks up and down the hallway again, sitting in a chair waiting to be called to see his new counselor. A counselor, not a psychiatrist, came in on Monday, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, usually running late, usually tired looking and ready to move onto the next patient. But they were all supposed to want to help.
"Alexander, your new doctor is here." The nurse calls him Alexander, not Alec like he requested. He was always requesting things. One did find boredom in these places rather easily. He slowly stands up and walks down the long hallway, through the round bright lounge, and into a small room. The nurse, a tall blonde hair with vibrant blue eyes, stands aside with a smile as he enters.
There is a dark blue carpet, a dingy white sofa with stains on it, a wide window behind the dark desk, and behind the desk sits man. Dark hair combed back, light eyes, wearing a friendly look.
"Hello, Alexander, I'm Bane. Please sit," the man speaks with a slight, unnameable accent, leaning back in the chair and extending a hand to the sofa. Alec moves forward quietly and sits down, crossing his arms in front of him. He looks down, staring at the legs of the desk, noting the screws in the bottom to keep the desk from being lifted.
"So, how are you, Alec?"
"What kind of question is that in here?" Alec retorts smoothly, keeping his eyes low. Bane chuckles nervously, and Alec can see him lean forward on the outskirts of his vision.
"It's a normal question. That was rather defensive. Mind if I ask you some questions?" Bane opens a binder and pulls out some papers, grabbing a pen while talking. "I'd like to start my file on you, so I can help you, give you the right treatment, heal you basically. We can start with your symptoms."
"Anti-social, over-eating and under-eating, thinking the world might end occasionally, low self-esteem, hearing things, seeing things, often wondering if I should even live," Alec says smoothly, a strange feeling squeezing his chest and making him giddy. Haughtiness, that was the feeling. He'd been through this type of intake so many times before that he had his answers all figured.
"Well, that's a lot. Very good that you know all that already. Let me just write that all down," Bane pauses, pen scrawling. "How often do you think of harming yourself?"
"I don't much anymore."
"How much is much?"
"Maybe once a week." That was a lie. The thoughts occurred to Alec daily. He could be happily cooking and suddenly the thought would come. What if I just died? Killed myself? Right now? Would I be missed? Would anyone care?
"Not too bad, for a place like this. You should never want to hurt yourself, Alec. Once a week..." Bane writes that down too. "Tell me about what you hear and see."
Alec contemplates lying, but something tells him to tell the truth, something building him up inside him that says, he can trust this man. "I hear voices. And see things different about.. people."
"What kind of voices?"
"My sister and brother," Alec says as he looks up, to find Bane calmly staring back. Bane smiles; Alec looks back down.
"Are you close with your sister and brother?"
"Not anymore," Alec shakes his head slightly.
"Tell me about them."
"They're dead," Alec says, and a laugh almost escapes. He bites his tongue, his fingers nervously reaching down to pull lint off the couch. There was a brown stain to his right, and a yellow-orange one to his left, bigger and sicker looking than the brown one. Bane clears his throat.
"I'm sorry. About your siblings I mean." Bane stops talking, and after a while Alec looks up to see the man's hands clasped under his chin, eyes gazing intently at Alec. "Tell me about the things you see."
"I see things that are different about people. Different colored hair, skin-" he stops, wondering if he should talk about the strange sights, horns, clawed hands. Creepy and unsettling images.
Alec, stop, don't tell him too much. A male voice.
Shut up for now.
Now a female voice, tell him everything. He'll help you, just wait and see. I like him.
"And what?" Bane raises his eyebrows, but Alec shakes his head, looking down.
"Just different features."
"And what do you see in me right now," Bane says carefully, and Alec looks back up, starring at the hair, still black, and the skin, a dark caramel, the face was relatively normal, no claws on his hands. He stares straight into his eyes, hesitating. Instead of the light brown he had first mistaken them for, they were a greenish yellow now, and the round pupils were dark thin slits. A striking set of eyes.
"You look normal."
"Well, that's good, certainly," Bane says, a small smile briefly on his face. "I talked to your nurse. I'm good friends with her."
"You did?"
"Yes. Catarina. She said you have different categories-"
"Based off appearance," Alec finishes, looking back down. His throat was itchy. He lets out a breath, reminding himself to breathe deeper. He never did breathe deeply.
"Can you tell me these categories?"
"Well... human. Angel-blooded... demon-blooded..." Alec shrugs, looking to his right. A black white wall with another dark brown stain.
"The symbolism of angels and demons are good and evil. Do you base people off of that type of scale?"
"No."
Now he's going to try and understand, the male voice sighs. Alec take in another deep breath.
Jace, calm down. The doctor looks alright, doesn't he, Alec? The female voice says suggestively. Alec had taken to calling the voices female and male, not Isabelle and Jace. Isabelle and Jace were long gone.
"Alexander?" Alec looks up to the call of his name, finding Bane staring at him. Nervously, he looks for a distraction, settling on a nameplate.
"Magnus Bane. That's your name."
"It is indeed. Alexander, you seem distracted." Magnus shrugs, his shoulders falling. "We can stop early if you want."
"I'm fine."
"Good to hear. You know I'm going to be here for a long while, so I'm really hoping to go far with you. I hope you know that." Magnus sighs, and Alec looks back up to see a hopeful look.
"Why a long while."
"I just moved here."
"Like New York?"
"It's OK. Busy busy busy," Magnus chuckles softly, the laugh not reaching his eyes, and Alec nods before looking down. "How are you feeling now?"
"Okay." Alec looks to his left, staring at the clock. If he could just make it through this, he'd be in the clear. He lets his gaze fall down the wall, looking for any special irregularities, anything unusual. But this wall seemed clean and normal. Alec looks back at his counselor. "Why did you move back?"
"A friend passed away," Magnus says, eyes looking sad, then a look of contemplation follows his face, followed by another sad wave. "I was here for moral support for my friend."
"Catarina?" Alec makes a lucky guess. He suspects there's more, but doesn't push. Magnus simply nods.
"Yes. I'm sorry Alec, but it seem to be the end of our appointment now." Magnus stands up, walking around the desk to the door. "There will be more, longer ones, this is just so I can get to know the basics of you."
"Okay." Alec exits, walking down the hallway to go straight to his room. Unnerved by the counselor, who seemed more emotional than most professionals And decent looking, Alec had to admit that. Young looking.
Alec walks into his room, taking his seat near the window. The second floor had a pretty view. He sits down, pulling at the blankets, yellow, yellow, yellow. Yellow curtains too, separating him from his roommate Raphael. Nice guy, cold like stone though, and very opinionated. They'd only known each other for a week, told each other stuff you might not even talk about with your mother, and they often swapped pieces of their meals.
Alec lays out, looking at the book on his nightstand, then the chair with his jacket on top. He currently wasn't allowed to go outside for breaks, it would be another day before that happens.
Downworlder. We can't trust them.
Quit jumping to conclusions, Jace, the female voice replies. They were continuing on with their conversation, and Alec runs his hands through his hair, rubs his temples.
Someone has to be the smart one, the male voice answers cockily.
I don't hear Raphael.
Lucky bastard, must have gotten out.
Or he's running late.
Alec groans, turning onto his side for a nap.
"Leaving so early?
"I have a train to catch," Magnus says, turning around to see Catarina next to him, messenger bag over her shoulder and a grin on her face. He juggles his water to his other hand, opening the door without a smile. Today was tiring, getting up early and preparing files at the last minute, rushing to work.
He turns to Catarina, forcing a smile; he liked her, but sleep was weighing him down. He looks at her hands, seeing a brown folder. "More files?"
"Two patient files," she says, holding it out. He takes it and holds it under his arm, letting a long sigh escape. "You sleep OK?"
"Was up early. I'll admit, I've been procrastinating," he laughs, shrugging it off. She nods, following him down a set of stairs into a lobby. The hospital had an airy feel to it, spacious, and not super busy. Quiet. He looks through the doors outside, ready to inhale fresh air, and he turns to find her staring back at him still.
"See something you like, Cat," he jokes.
"Not even close," Catarina snorts. "I'm just wondering how you're doing...?"
"Fine. Perfectly fine." He nods, turning his gaze back onto the busy street. She keeps watching him, a curious face against a guilty one.
"Fine. Alright, just take care of yourself," she says, and they exit together, her going right to the parking lot, him going left. Happy to have some alone time and be out in the cool air, he lets a smile break on his face. New York wasn't exactly nature-like, but it still made him feel good. People walking by, everyone moving, glimpses into people's lives. All very life-romantic.
"Hey, wait, Magnus," Cat calls, and he turns around. "I'll drive you."
"You don't need to," he says, turning fully to look at her approaching.
"I want to. I insist. Come." And together, they walk to the parking lot. Her car was yellow, an Audi, suited to her bright personality. Cat could always see the brigther side of things, where Magnus was more prone to see upsides and downsides, but he tried to not let the downsides weigh him down. Sometimes a burden could be too heavy. He climbs in, setting the file on his lap.
"Mind if I read this here?" he asks.
"Go right on ahead."
He looks at his watch, reading 9:21 PM. He has lot of time tonight to relax in his little apartment, made up of glittery and bright things. A lonely and quiet apartment though. The place was practically a shrine, decorated like makeup covering and old woman. But he doesn't want to think about that now. He opens the files.
Name: Alexander Lightwood.
Age: 22
City: New York
Boring. Magnus flips to the next page, a series of different doctor's notes following. Glancing at the dates he sees that some were from a couple years ago.
Grew up with family in NY. Mother, father, brother and sister. Deceased. Car crash. He moves to another state, then moved back with a family friend- Luke Garroway.
Most prominent symptom is hearing things. He has been shown to classify people. No one is an exception. Will look into this later. Has shown negative effects to Haldol, will be using Seroquel. Suggestions: counseling, cognitive behavior exercises. Will attempt to set Alexander back into everyday life.
Magnus skips a few more pages.
Seroquel works. Likes cognitive behavior therapy. Hates counseling. Future therapists should be warned, can be an un-agreeable patient if he chooses. Occasional outbursts of anger.
Another page flip, Magnus goes ahead a year.
Classification: considers 'demons' to be least trustworthy. 'Downworlders' have multiple subcategories, almost all unknown, besides 'vampire'. Vampire is the word he chose to use to describe it. Claims Beverly, the janitor on floor 1, is a vampire, and his roommate too. Has not elaborated past this.
Now intrigued by this patient and his world, Magnus flips a page, glancing at his watch. 9:23.
Attacked Beverly last Tuesday, was placed in solitary. More counseling has proven that the voices were once people he knew. Trauma is evident. Possibility of changing roommates. Says there are Fae-folk as well, a sub-cat of downworlders. Beverly is not coming back.
Categories are based on hallucinations the patient has seen. Says demons have the strangest appearance. Claims he is 'nephilim' a type of savior. Latent grandiose ideas. Nephilim are supposedly different from downworlders. He indicated that 'normal people' exist as well.
Magnus puts the files away, looking up at the ceiling, then at Catarina. Her eyes were on the road, focused, her tongue sticking out slightly between her teeth. Magnus didn't know what he'd do without her. She was always there, right around the corner, her patience and willingness to help was strong. But she had her own problems to worry about, and though he could be a shoulder to cry on, his own patience for sadness was limited. Things were complicated. Life was complicated. And he had money troubles to worry about-
Sighing loudly, Magnus stretches his long limbs as much as the tiny car will allow. Complications. He was now taking on a complicated case. He had a dinner coming up. It would also be Chairman's birthday soon. Most might say a cat wasn't deserving of a huge party, but a huge party he would have, even though the bugger would probably just hide under a bed.
"What is it Magnus?"
"Nothing. Just tired. I want to rest," Magnus says as he looks outside the window. It was tacky to always complain, but Magnus was finding more and more things to complain about. He could travel, if he had the funds, traveling was his cure for depression. The only way he could acquire that kind of money was working for his father, and he wasn't willing to. Not yet, anyway. He looks back at Cat.
"You're a good friend, you know."
"I know. It takes a lot of work to be a good. Why do you say so?"
"Everyone needs a good reminder."