Being the ray of sunshine that I am, I have a hard time believing that everything will work out perfectly for Magnus and Alec in the end. HOWEVER, I do believe that our boys have something special, and this is my way of ensuring that Magnus has a piece of Alec forever. It was fun to write a one-shot, so I hope you enjoy :)
Disclaimers: The Mortal Instrument Series belongs to Cassandra Clare, The Dresden Files to Jim Butcher, and Brian Kinney is a character from the television series Queer As Folk.
It wasn't often that Alec was able to stay at home and Magnus wasn't. By virtue of being the best – as Magnus was wont to remind each and every one of his customers – Magnus's schedule revolved around no one but him. That meant whenever Alec actually had a spare hour to relax, Magnus was free. Ironic that now, when Alec had a full day – and night, hopefully – to himself, Magnus was hauled away on urgent business.
Admittedly, things were different with Jace and Clary gone. Everyone was a little less willing to relax, a little more willing to jump into action. Even Magnus, the most collected of them all, was noticeably on edge. The fact that things were so terrible only made Alec want Magnus home even more. The perpetual ache created by the loss of his parabatai could only be filled by one person. The steadying beat of Magnus's heart, the heat that seemed to rise from his body in waves, the soft smile that nobody else in the world got to see; Alec needed those things more than he needed training or pep talks or promises from the Clave. Still, Alec appreciated the fact that Magnus was so keen to help. If anything, it made him love the Warlock even more. He could handle a few hours alone.
After pouring up a bowl of cereal, Alec grabbed the canary comforter from Magnus's bed and dragged it out to his sofa. Magnus would probably be furious if came home to find spilled milk on his blanket, but Alec didn't care. The fabric smelled like Magnus and trapped heat in a way that hinted at magical intervention, and it was bloody cold in the drafty loft when there was no one to cuddle up next to. Much like the kinks from hunting the night before were a lot more painful when there was no one with magic fingers to work them out. Wincing a little, Alec stretched his legs out and buried himself in the downy material of the comforter as the show Magnus had recorded for him started up in the background.
By the end of the first episode of Game of Thrones Alec was shivering. As pathetic as it sounded, he had relied so much on Magnus's finger-snapping to adjust the heat, that he wasn't even sure how to do it himself. And it was certainly too cold to wander around trying to find out. Wrapping the blanket around him like a shawl, Alec shot across the room to the closet and whipped it open to grab another. Unfortunately, as he pulled, the overused shelf collapsed in a heap. Dust and old potions billowed up, enveloping Alec in a silvery haze. Apprehensive about breathing the stuff, Alec swatted around to clear the air before carefully trying to sort through what he had destroyed. According to the amount of junk Magnus had shoved in this closet, it would probably take a while.
Once the broken glass had been separated out and the knickknacks moved to the shelf that was still standing, Alec gingerly removed the chunks of splintered wood, revealing something that had been hiding under the rubble: a wooden trunk. The trunk had a lock, but it was hanging on its clasp instead of being clicked shut, almost as if someone had been in a hurry to shove the trunk away. Curiosity bit at Alec, and his fingers twitched, moving toward the lock seemingly of their own volition.
It's probably just spell books and valuable potions, Alec thought, trying to stifle his imagination. Magnus had nothing to hide from him. Despite his jealous outburst at Luke's party, Alec trusted his boyfriend. Magnus was a good person. A little snippy and cynical sometimes, but not conniving or cruel. Alec knew he should just lock the trunk and push it back in the closet where it belonged.
And yet, he couldn't ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind. The low, seductive, voice with the hint of a French accent that came attached to an incredibly alluring vampire. A vampire that Magnus used to be in love with. If Camille had been telling the truth, that there was some other way for him to become immortal, maybe it could be found in exactly the kind of books Magnus would keep locked away in an old trunk. He would just take a quick look – a glance, really – and have everything packed away before Magnus got home. No one would ever know the difference.
Crossing his legs, Alec pulled the trunk closer, slipping the lock out and tipping back the lid. Instead of being greeted by another cloud of dust, or a stack of papers, or the musty smell of old books, Alec was surprised to see a hodgepodge of the most curious items. Using the utmost care, he reached inside and pulled out a few things: a poem, which, despite his increased tolerance for sexual innuendo, made his neck heat up as he read it; a cream colored ribbon that for some reason made his stomach roll uncomfortably; and a worn old photograph. Despite never having seen any of the people before, Alec knew he must be looking at Magnus's old Shadowhunter friends from London. Immediately his eyes settled on the one he knew must be Will. Camille was right; they did look a lot alike. Except, Alec acknowledged with a scowl, Will seemed like the kind of person who drew a lot of attention. He was beautiful, that was certain, but Alec was sure that the boy had known it. His heart twisted and he felt the slow burn of jealousy. Funny how such an innocuous object could draw such a visceral reaction. Though Magnus was not here to witness the change, Alec still felt ashamed. Ashamed that a crinkled black-and-white photo could make him feel like a gangly, gawking child playing at love. Ashamed that he was so insecure in his trust that a long-dead Shadowhunter could upset him.
Although, there was something that upset him even more than Will's picture. After carefully sifting through the paraphernalia, Alec was certain that these items were among Magnus's most treasured possessions. They were mementos from times past; pieces of himself that he didn't want scattered or swallowed by time. These few precious tokens represented the fabric of Magnus's life. And there was one extremely recognizable absence: one Alexander Lightwood.
Alec knew that he hadn't been a part of Magnus's life for very long, but he had truly believed that their relationship was something important. Something special. He had given Magnus everything he had to offer: his first kiss, his virginity, his love. He probably wasn't the most romantic or the most exciting boyfriend a High Warlock could have, but he would have thought that something of his would have made it into Magnus's pile. Opera ticket stubs from Vienna, pressed flowers from the bouquet he'd gotten him in Amsterdam, hell even a receipt from their first date at Taki's would have been sufficient. But there was nothing.
It's because you're not dead yet, the little snake in his mind hissed. And maybe that was true. Magnus was a pretty live in the moment kind of guy. Alec knew he shouldn't take this to heart – there were pictures of the two of them scattered all over the loft. Magnus wore Alec's ratty t-shirts when he spent the night alone. There was a playlist of songs that reminded Magnus of Alec on his Ipod. He was important.
Not wanting to dwell on this and end up causing another fight, Alec starting carefully placing the items back in the trunk. While smoothing out a spot on the bottom for the wrinkled photo, a necklace caught Alec's eye. It was rope of bright blue jewels, spilling out of a small black velvet pouch. It looked old – like something from a different century. It sparkled as the light bounced of the delicate curves of each gem, and Alec was not surprised that it was something Magnus had decided to keep. Magnus never shut up about Alec's eyes, and this piece matched their color almost exactly.
Unable to stop himself, Alec picked the velvet bag out of the trunk and tipped the necklace into the palm of his hand. It slipped around his fingers, and Alec just had time to notice that it was unnaturally warm before the room started to shift.
An immediate sense of vertigo overtook him as the colors started to swirl around him, and before he could cry out, he found himself back in the Hall where he had asked Magnus to be his partner for the battle against Valentine.
Unlike the actual day of the battle, all the chatter of the people around was muted. Alec watched with a combination of awe and unease as he saw himself push through the crowd toward Magnus. At first, he tried to avoid touching anyone, unsure of the limits of whatever magic was controlling this hallucination, but once he found he could pass right through them, he made a beeline for Magnus.
Once he was close enough to reach out and touch his boyfriend, the character of the memory changed; everything seemed sharper and brighter. People's faces were obscured as Alec, in what was perhaps the most surreal moment of his life, watched himself approach.
As his doppelganger came closer and closer, Alec felt a rush of emotion that left him dazed and confused. It wasn't the intense reaction that startled him; after all this moment had been one of the most important of his entire life. Perhaps the most important. No, what was completely insane was the fact that the emotions Alec was feeling were not his own. It sounded impossible, but Alec knew, as truly as he knew that he loved Magnus and that he missed Jace and that he hated Sebastian, that he was experiencing Magnus's emotions.
For someone who had spent more time than was healthy obsessing over the inner thoughts of his immortal boyfriend, the experience was a little overwhelming. Magnus's conscious was calm and steady, layered over with centuries of experience and a deep sadness that seemed to penetrate Alec's bones. The fact that Magnus carried this weight with him every day made Alec ache in a way he'd never experienced before. For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to be something other than mortal. He understood why Magnus wanted to protect him from this future. Still, on the surface, there were distinct jolts of emotions that Alec understood quite well: anger, hopelessness, pain. And then, as memory Alec mumbled out, "I was hoping you'd be my partner", the tiniest flicker of hope.
As the conversation in front of him continued that flicker of hope grew until memory-Alec, in a fit of well-remembered desperation, flung himself into Magnus's arms and kissed him with everything he had. Alec stood, stunned, as a wave of affection so strong poured through his mind, that soon it was the only thing he could feel. It meant everything to know that that moment had meant as much to Magnus as it had to him.
When the kiss was finished, the room shifted again, and Alec was watching himself sleeping on Magnus's bed, sleeping softly. He recognized the scene instantly: the bloodstained t-shirt in the corner gave it away as a few nights after they returned from Idris. Alec, lost in a tide of anger and sorrow, had gone hunting alone, only to end up in the middle of an ambush. In his fury he had managed to kill most of the demons, but in the end he was overwhelmed. When they left him for dead, he had dialed Magnus's number. The next thing he remembered was waking up in Magnus's bed, the sparkly Warlock grinning down at him.
The Magnus in this memory was anything but sparkly. His eyes were wide and frantic, his face covered in blood, his hair lank. He was sitting by the bed, eyes suspiciously red, and just like the last time, Alec could feel his every emotion. There was mostly pain, mixed with an increasing amount of panic and a deep sense of guilt. Alec wanted to go over and wrap his arms around his boyfriend, but he knew that he couldn't.
Just as the fact of standing and watching Magnus suffer – real or not – was becoming too much, Alec saw himself fidget beneath Magnus's blanket. Magnus's sharp intake of breath actually made him jump, and Alec felt his face flush even though there was no one there to witness his fright.
Alec moved closer to the bed, mirroring Magnus's own movement. Magnus reached out and grasped memory-Alec's hands, squeezing them between his own. A single tear fell on the clasped hands, causing Alec's heart to stutter; he had never once seen Magnus cry. He always seemed so assured, even when everyone else had given up hope.
Alec watched himself twist around a bit more, and could feel Magnus's silent supplication. When his sleeping form finally whispered a weak, "Magnus?" the sense of relief that permeated the memory was so strong Alec's own knees felt weak. He watched as his boyfriend dissolved, crying undecipherable tears and climbing into bed to take Alec in his arms.
The third time, Alec was ready for the sudden twisting and change of scenery. When he landed in the hotel room in Paris, he knew exactly what he was going to be watching. He didn't need to hear his own small pants, or Magnus's groan of pleasure, or the whispered "I love you" that had almost made him cry to know that this was the night that everything had fallen into place. The night that he realized that no matter what happened, no matter how long or short his life, no one would ever come close to Magnus Bane. If there was any event that could surpass his moment of truth in the Hall in Idris as most important, it was this one. He had relived it himself a hundred times. His own memory was as clear as this magical reinvention. It had been a perfect night. A perfect first time. Maybe the first perfect thing in his life.
But he didn't want to relive it – not like this. He didn't need the help of magic to know what Magnus had felt that night, because he had shown Alec with every whisper, every touch, and every kiss. There's no way to fake the kind of intimacy Magnus showed him that night, and for once Alec didn't question his boyfriend's sincerity for half a second. These private emotions would always remain Magnus's alone. With only a quick glance back to admire his boyfriend's body, Alec hurried out the door and walked directly into the next memory.
This time, Alec was surprised. This memory was different. For one thing, for the first time it was out of sequence. This memory was from before the fight with Valentine. Before Magnus told him he loved him. Before Alec could admit that he loved Magnus. For some reason that Alec would never in a million fucking years understand, Magnus had chosen to immortalize that moment in his life that he was the most ashamed of. The moment that catalyzed the time that Alec remembered as "the eternity of unanswered messages", when Magnus fastidiously ignored him and Alec thought that he had fucked up his chances with the Warlock for good.
Frozen in shock, Alec didn't even think to exit this memory like he had the last. He sat through, listening to his own selfish whining, feeling every stab of exasperation, hurt, and irritation that Magnus had felt. He sat through the tipped over chair, through the frightened hiss of Chairman Meow, and through Magnus dropping his head on the table, refusing to look at him.
Just as he opened his mouth to scream the words that he had regretted ever after – "Don't tell me what I want! I want him, okay? Not you. Him." – he felt himself being pulled forward. The disjointed, navel ripped out through your ears feeling was back, and this time he landed on the floor in a canary-colored heap. He was back in Magnus's loft. Present-day loft. With Magnus slipping the necklace back into the velvet bag and looking not at all pleased.
"Magnus," Alec said, his face flushing. "You're home."
Magnus's eyes narrowed, but he took a seat beside Alec, draping his legs over his boyfriend's and taking a share of the blanket. "Yes, love."
Alec had no idea how he did it, but Magnus had this way of looking at him that made him want to confess any terrible thing he had ever done. Maybe it was hundreds of years of fighting for his life, or maybe it was just because people that sexy are used to getting what they want, but whatever it was, it always worked. "Magnus I – "
Magnus held a finger up to Alec's lips and the leaned in for a quick kiss. "No explaining," he said when he pulled away. "I can see the broken shelf and the canary cocoon. You don't need to be Harry Dresden to know what happened here."
Alec gave a small nod. "Right," he agreed. "Wait, who's Harry Dresden?"
Magnus laughed – a light, tinkling sound that did not at all match his flamboyant personality – and leaned in for a second kiss. "I love you," he whispered.
Feeling more confused than ever, but intoxicated by Magnus's laugh, and Magnus's smell, and Magnus's touch, he decided that it didn't matter.
"So," Magnus said, drawing away and leaning back on his hands. "If I know you as well as I think, I'm fairly certain you have a few questions right about now."
Alec lifted Magnus's legs off his own and slid across the floor until he was nestled between them. "Well, when I found the box I was a little upset that I wasn't in there. I just saw all these things – these incredibly important mementos – and I wasn't there. Will was there, but I wasn't." It was hard to keep the acid out of his voice, but Alec at least had the decency to give a sheepish smile at the comment.
"And then you found the necklace," Magnus answered.
"Yeah. It's an incredible spell." Alec was sincere – the magic really was brilliant.
"Of course it is," Magnus agreed with a smirk. "I created it."
Alec laughed. "You know I'm not even surprised."
Magnus leaned forward, resting his head against Alec's. "You still seem upset. Was the whole idea a little too creepy for you?"
This time the flush spread right down to his back and Alec was sure that Magnus could feel the heat on his own forehead. "No, it's not that. I mean, thinking about that…subject will always be painful, but the fact that you made a spell like that, and for – " Alec frowned. "I mean, you did make it for –"
"For you?" Magnus drew back, slapping the back of Alec's head as he did so. "Of course I made it for you, you ass."
"Okay, just checking. I mean, when your boyfriend has had more lovers than Brian Kinney, you can never be sure."
Magnus looked torn, but he reached out to swat Alec again. "I don't know if I should be pissed at you for saying that, or proud that you made your very own pop culture reference."
"Well, you've made me watch enough episodes," Alec mumbled. "Anyway, that's not the point. I guess what I'm a little confused about is why you chose some of the memories you did."
"What did you see?"
Alec raised his head, locking eyes with his lover. "Mostly I saw that you loved me," he answered. "I saw you, with no barriers up and nothing hidden or downplayed, and I can't even describe how much that meant to me. But, I also saw something that I've tried so hard to forget. Something I have no idea why you'd want to remember."
"The fight?"
Alec nodded.
"Alec, when I look in that box, there are memories that take minutes to resurface, and even then they're blurred around the edges. Full of faces and names I can barely make out. Even my time in London, with Will" – he noticed how Alec still recoiled a little at the name – "is tainted by time. It's like the view through a stained glass window; something you know is beautiful, but never quite clear enough. I try to bring back the sympathy I felt the night that Will showed up on my doorstep, begging for help, or the vindication of pulling one over on Camille when she betrayed me, but the feelings are just a hollow replication of the moments themselves. I know that you hate thinking about your mortality, but at least when you're gone, you won't be forced to forget."
Alec saw that Magnus's eyes were shining, and felt a familiar burn in his throat.
"One day, I'll be fighting just to hold on to the memory of your face. I'll forget what your laugh was like, or your sneeze, or the exact color of your eyes. I'd like to think that that won't happen for centuries. That what we have is so important it will take Millennia to fade. And if I had it my way, that would be true."
A tear traced its way down Magnus's cheek, and Alec reached out to wipe it away. Magnus grabbed his hand and placed a soft kiss on his wrist.
"But the truth is, no memory – even a Warlock's – can hold on to something forever. So I made the spell. I made it so that every time I take out that necklace I'll remember exactly how you looked and sounded, and exactly how I felt."
"But why do you want to remember the horrible things?" Alec asked, his voice thick from holding back his own tears. "To remind yourself I wasn't perfect?"
"People do have a tendency to idealize the dead," Magnus agreed. "But that's not why I did it. If you look at any photo album, or personal website, or scrapbook, you will find the happiest collection of memories. But that's just an imitation of a life. What I have with you is the kind of thing that almost never happens. It's real, Alec. Real enough to break down centuries of cynicism and make me forget every promise I made to myself. To forget that mortals weren't worth the trouble. What I have with you is the only thing I've ever believed in. I put the fight in there because you were the first thing I'd fought for in a long time. You made me fight like a mortal – like someone who didn't have infinite wisdom, or patience, or time. You made me feel like the world would end if you walked out the door. You made me feel human."
Magnus reached forward and kissed Alec's forehead, wiping away his tears. He nuzzled his face into Alec's neck, breathing in the sweet scent of the Shadowhunter. "I don't want to remember an idealized version of you," he whispered, his breath ticking Alec's ear. "I want to remember you. My Alexander."