AN: This story happened on some dark and stormy night when I considered what would have happened if things for Alec had turned out differently. Surprisingly the short scene was very obstinate about being written so here it is.
When Alec whimpers and calls out in his sleep, it is not for Magnus or Jase or Isabelle. In his sleep he calls for his mother. The first time it happens, Magnus cannot help but marvel at the impact of the bond between a mother and her child, because Maryse is anything but maternal, and Alec brought up to be a battle-hardened warrior with walls thicker than a pharaoh's tomb.
But still a teenager, Magnus reminds himself as he rubs soothing circles into his boyfriend's back, mussing his hair in soft kisses as he promises that everything is going to be okay. What he doesn't say is how long it is going to take for him to feel even remotely normal again. How it's going to feel like the hunger will drive him half mad, dividing his world into food and dust. How he already misses the warmth of his lover's body or will mourn the prudish blush that used to follow every euphemistic thing. What he does say is promise that he is always going to be there and that they would figure it out together.
It's Magnus who finally calls Maryse despite both Robert and Maryse's initial murderous outrage and then cold, heartbreaking silence. He knows he needs to set boundaries with her if she is to come into their home, but when the door buzzes there is a mother bear in the living room and if looks could kill he would be bleeding out on the carpet. It is only as she approaches the bed that he sees her clearly, and unlike before, her initial movements are hesitant and awkward, though eventually something kicks in because she reaches out with long, callused fingers to softly stroke jet black hair, tears tracking their way down her cheeks.
My baby, he thinks he hears her whisper, but the words are cracked and unused and rusty, and so soft that even with enhanced hearing Alec doesn't stir at first, though eventually he senses her and opens his eyes before propping himself up by his elbow into sitting position when he realizes who she is.
"Mom. Is everything okay?" His face is filled with concern because her being there has him anxious by default. Worried about Isabelle, Jace, his father and her, and it is absurd given the current circumstances but that's just who Alec Lightwood is. And would continue to be, Magnus realizes with a selfish jolt, for at least the next few hundred years or so. Even as a downwolder, Alec Lightwood would never be anyone else but himself. He had never known Alec as a child, but Magnus can imagine what he would have been like. Small and serious and responsible. In his mind's eye, a softer, younger version of Maryse reads stories as they curl up before bed. Tales of Jonathan the Shadowhunter and wild adventures to slay even the greatest of monsters. And yet, even fraught with peril, those stories are safe, filled with the kinds of demons you can kill with a seraph blade instead of the kind that haunt and linger, born from prejudice and abandonment.
Next to Alec, Maryse finally nods shakily and gives him a small, watery smile.
"Yes," she manages as she reaches out to hold him, pressing a kiss to the cool skin of his forehead "You're my son and no matter what happens, it's going to be okay."