Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Mortal Instrument series or the Infernal Devices series.

A Second Chance:

It was on a cold winter's night that Alec found himself wandering the streets of Brooklyn. More specifically, it was a street where a red brick warehouse was located, and in that warehouse was the converted apartment he had once cohabitated with Magnus. Up and down the lane he walked, eyes constantly darting to the large windows of Magnus' loft, looking for a sign that he had returned home. There was nothing, and so he walked on.

As Alec neared the intersection, he heard footsteps other than his own in the empty street, followed by the one voice he most wanted to hear. He raised his eyes just in time to see Magnus round the corner.

It was the first time Alec had seen Magnus since the event in the abandoned subway tunnel, and for an instant his spirit lifted at the sight of the tall, slim man, but dropped just as suddenly when a second figure emerged beside the first—a woman. He quickly slipped into the shadow of the closest building. As they approached, Alec felt a stab of betrayal at the sight of the woman's hand holding the warlock's arm.

Alec had hoped for them to reconcile, had played scenes in his mind of when they would meet again, practiced the words he would say that would allow him back into the other's heart as if he were memorizing a play. But in none of his carefully constructed scripts had there been someone else; in none of his rehearsals had he been replaced so soon, as carelessly as if he had never mattered at all.

The two walked beneath a street lamp and were illuminated in its glow. Alec studied the woman beneath the light, taking in the dark hair that framed her small face, the slim figure and graceful movements. He supposed she was pretty, from an objective standpoint, and it certainly seemed to be the case from Magnus' standpoint, judging by the way the warlock looked at her.

Alec hated her instantly.

"Magnus." It was more of an accusation than a greeting as Alec stepped into their line of sight.

He saw them both start, startled by his appearance, and then caught the grimace on Magnus' face. Was the warlock really that unhappy to see him? Next to Magnus, the girl's eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly in surprise as she looked at him. Did she recognize him? Had Magnus told her about him?

"Will," she said, her body leaning forward slightly.

Her voice was no louder than a whisper, but Alec heard her all the same, and jealousy rose from within. It was Camille in the Sanctuary all over again. He turned accusing eyes upon Magnus. How could the warlock tell this woman about Will, when he refused to tell Alec anything?

Magnus looked weary as he introduced the two strangers to one another. "This is Tessa Gray," he indicated his companion. "And this is Alexander Lightwood," he finished, voice strained.

The woman regained her posture. "It's nice to meet you, Alexander," she said, holding out her hand.

Alec didn't respond, didn't even bother to glance at the proffered hand. Instead, he continued to glower at Magnus.

Tessa looked from one of them to the other, and then unclasped her hand from Magnus' arm. "I'll leave you two alone to talk," she said.

"Can you find your way back to the apartment alone?" Magnus asked her.

"Yes, I know the way."

Alec saw how she gave Magnus a soft smile and squeezed his arm before departing. The sight produced a heavy feeling in his chest. Magnus turned his full attention on him then, his gaze expectant, but Alec didn't know what to say. A moment of silence passed as he scrambled for words.

"How old is she?" Alec blurted without thinking.

"Not nearly as old as I am," Magnus answered dismissively.

"Can she live forever too?"

"If by that, you mean to ask if she's a warlock, then yes, she is."

"Is she my replacement?" he asked bitterly.

"No, she is not."

"The way you looked at her… Are you in love with her?"

"No, we're just friends."

"I find it hard to believe that you're just friends with anyone."

Magnus sighed heavily. "And what if she is my lover?" he asked testily, his patience apparently at an end. "It no longer has anything to do with you. You gave up that right when you tried to end my life."

"I didn't! I was only…" Alec found himself unable to convey in words the thoughts that had carried him through those meetings with Camille, the promises she'd made that had both tortured him and sustained him. All the words he had practiced repeatedly seemed to evaporate into thin air under the glare of those cat-like eyes.

"Does any of this seem familiar to you?" Magnus asked.

Alec stared at the pavement. He had done it again, even though he had promised that he wouldn't. But it wasn't entirely his fault! All he had wanted was for Magnus to forgive him, but the warlock was still dodging his questions. How could he not be jealous when the person he loved kept secrets from him?

No. This was wrong. This wasn't what he had wanted to happen when they finally met again. He hadn't wanted another fight. In the week that they had been apart, he had thought to himself that it no longer mattered what secrets lay in Magnus' past, as long as he forgave Alec, took him back, allowed him to spend what remained of his life with the warlock.

"I'm sorry," Alec said at last, voice quiet, eyes down, afraid to see his ex-boyfriend's reaction. When the other man didn't speak, he finally lifted his head to look Magnus in the face. What he saw were familiar gold-green eyes, sad but resolute.

"I'm sorry, too," Magnus said.

For one wonderful moment, Alec thought that perhaps there was still hope for them after all, that he hadn't blown his only chance at happiness.

"I'm sorry that it couldn't have worked out between us." Magnus took a step toward him, and then walked past him. "Goodbye, Alexander."

Alec couldn't move, couldn't even turn his head to watch the warlock walk away. He could only listen as the sound of Magnus' steps receded with every second, until it disappeared altogether.

Back at the loft, Magnus sat on one end of the couch in the living room, his long frame stretched out across the cushions. Tessa was curled up on the other end, cuddling Chairman Meow to her as she watched Magnus with steady gray eyes.

"You told that boy my maiden name."

"You should have realized what he was." Magnus knew Tessa had spent enough of her life in the company of Shadowhunters to know Alec was one even without seeing the Marks hidden beneath his heavy winter clothes.

"A Shadowhunter," she murmured.

"I didn't think you'd want the questioning that would have come up if he had known you were a Herondale."

"When I saw him, I thought maybe…"

"I know."

"But he's a Lightwood. Of course. That's why he had Wi—Cecily's—eyes." There was a flash of pain behind her eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

She had probably wondered if Alec was a descendant of hers when she first saw him. Magnus wondered whether she felt disappointment or relief that he wasn't.

"I can see why you like him," she said.

"I never said we were together."

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "I still remember the first time we met and you told me that black hair and blue eyes were your favorite combination. And it doesn't look like much has changed in 150 years."

Tessa's words brought up memories of a simpler time, of lavish parties, Camille, a boy with black hair and blue eyes—and then the image was replaced by that of another boy, similar in appearance and yet completely different in personality.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tessa asked, breaking him out of his recollection.

"Not really."

"Magnus," she chided gently.

"I'm fine. There's nothing to talk about."

Tessa raised one eyebrow, gaze clearly challenging. "Magnus, when I first got here, the place was a mess—you were a mess; your eyes were bloodshot, and you reeked of alcohol. It was four in the afternoon and you were still in your bathrobe." She paused. "But do you know what really tipped me off that you were not in a good place?"

Magnus shook his head, wondering if she had noticed the fact that when she arrived, it had also been several days since he'd last bathed. Thinking back on it, he thought perhaps the pervasive smell of alcohol had masked his own odor.

"You weren't wearing any glitter," she said.

Magnus stared at her incredulously for a moment before he noticed her lips twitch slightly. Then he covered his eyes with a hand, tilted his head back and laughed—really laughed—for the first time since the abandoned subway tunnel. When he finally calmed down enough, he looked across the span of the couch and saw Tessa smiling at him.

"You've not spent a day without your glitter, ever since Henry gifted you that first bottle from his lab."

"One of the best inventions of the human race," he stated with conviction.

She shook her head, amusement all over her face. But a moment later, her expression became somber. "So, this Alexander…"

Magnus' smile slipped. He knew his friend could be pretty insistent when she wanted, and it didn't look as if she would give up anytime soon. Perhaps it would even feel good to talk about it. Since he had cut off ties with Alec and his friends, the only one he had left to talk to was Chairman Meow—a great conversationalist, no doubt, but not the best source of relationship advice.

Tessa was looking at him expectantly. With a deep sigh, he told her everything.

When he was finished, a good half hour had passed, during which time she had listened to him with an intense concentration akin to the kind she displayed when engrossed in a good novel. It made him feel rather like an audio book.

"Yao feng de feng, yao yu de yu," she mumbled quietly.

Magnus quirked an eyebrow; he recognized the sounds, though not the words. "You've been brushing up on your Mandarin."

"I was in China a few years back."

"What did you say?"

"It's an idiom, I suppose. Literally, it means that should you want wind, it will blow. If you want rain, it will fall."

"While I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Tessa dear, I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you—I can't control the weather."

"You do know the definition of an idiom, don't you, Magnus?" She didn't wait for a reply. "The phrase refers to someone with a lot of power, who can get whatever he wants… Or whomever."

"Well, I am incredibly handsome, and my charms are many. It's no wonder that everyone would want me," he tried to keep his tone light, but his heart wasn't really in it.

"And yet you choose to be miserable over this boy with whom you broke up," she said, seeing through his feigned levity. "You still love him."

"It's over."

"It looked like Alexander was hoping it wasn't."

"He was conspiring with Camille to kill me," he emphasized, in case she had forgotten that part of his retelling.

"Magnus, I knew Camille, too—I was Camille, for a while, and I know how she works. Alexander was being manipulated."

Magnus laughed, but this wasn't the same sound as the one earlier; this was harsh, imbued with all the hurt and betrayal he had felt since his discovery. "Duress has never been Camille's style. She prefers for those who do her dirty-work to do it of their own free will, and manipulation is the art of making someone willingly do what you want. But there has to be some part of that person that wants to do it in the first place. What would you manipulate if the desire did not already exist?"

"Alexander is young and insecure. He's inexperienced with life. It's not an excuse for what he did, but…" She reached over and placed a soft hand on his. "Take the advice of an old friend. Give the boy a second chance. Give yourself a second chance."

Magnus turned his hand over to hold Tessa's, his thumb tracing the lines of an open eye on her unmarked skin. His heart hurt a little as he thought of another pair of hands, ones rough with callouses from years of handling weapons, scarred from symbols burned into the skin, clumsy from lack of experience with intimacy.

Tessa didn't say anything as she watched her friend become lost in thought.

Moonlight spilled in from the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the wall, bathing the room in silver.

Magnus looked at Tessa now, dozing on the sofa, and saw the crying woman who had appeared on his doorstep in Paris, heartbroken and alone, the pain and despair still fresh on her features. The ones she loved, one had been taken from her early on—not by death, but by fate; and the other taken decades later, but taken all the same. Both were beyond her reach now, but he knew she still carried them in her heart.

Before she had fallen asleep, she had been reading a weathered copy of A Tale of Two Cities that looked older than she did, but handled so lovingly there was no clearer indication who had given it to her. And dangling from her neck hung a pendant of jade, a daily reminder of an engagement that had never been realized. Like a good many of the things she possessed, these were mementos of her former life.

Knowing all these things, Magnus couldn't help but envy her. The burden of immortality touched them all eventually, but they weren't always the only ones to suffer. Sometimes, the ones they loved were affected as well. And yet Will had not begrudged her for her immortality or her love for Jem; she and Will had been able to live out their lives until the end of his days. That sort of boundless love happened all too rarely. He had wanted that with Alec, wanted it still. If only it were possible.