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part two

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The Fourth District was bordered all around by a deep and dark forest. It was such a cliché, there was no two ways about it. Even in the middle of the day, it seemed like the dead of night inside those woods. The trees were the type you gave a wide berth to as a child, frightened of those branches that looked so much like claws, just waiting for you to stray that little bit too close. The forest floor was never smooth. Rocks and twigs, hidden roots that almost always succeeded in tripping you, a layer of slick moss coating everything just in case the roots failed to send you flat on your face. Even the animals seemed to realise the ridiculous Grimm origins of their surroundings and conformed to expectations; birds with talons as sharp as knives, always swooping too low and almost getting you; wolves with eyes of glowing amber and howls that waited for the stillest moments; even the harmless animals like deer and hares played their part, rustling the bushes to scare the passer-by, trampling on the crunchiest leaves and snapping twigs, inspiring the mind to conjure up monsters instead.

It was through this forest that Alexander Lightwood trekked with his companions. The eeriness of the setting was completely lost on them. They were a stab first, ask questions later kind of people, and hunting the monsters in those bushes was just another day at the office for them.

"Well, that was a bust," Jace huffed exasperatedly, hopping over a mostly-hidden root peeking out of the ground, "I don't know where Hodge is getting his information. Reckon he's going senile?"

"He's not that old," Sebastian replied, rolling his eyes, "And if there's even a hint of the Instruments then we should always check it out."

"I know that. I'm just not seeing where exactly the hint came from. Even if the Instruments had been there before, the Downworlders would've moved them after we took care of that Klaus," Jace snapped. Sebastian always had that way of speaking to him like he was the kid at nursery that kept sticking the lego up his nose.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. She knew how this went. Sebastian would respond with a barely-veiled insult, Jace would snark back ten-fold, and the rest of them would have to endure their pointless argument all the way back to Alicante. Already in a dark mood from what she considered to be their failure, she dropped back to walk with Alec, who had been lagging behind.

She frowned, taking in just how out of breath he was, how much paler than usual. She'd been against it, the whole using Alec as a decoy plan, but of course Alec hadn't wanted to look like he couldn't handle it and had gone along with yet another of Jace's schemes.

"The rune worked, right?" she murmured, falling into step beside her brother, "None of its spells got you?"

"No, I'm fine. Just drained." Even his voice sounded like it wanted to slip into a week long sleep. He stumbled once more and she almost offered him her shoulder, but just righted him instead. He'd have only said no anyway, not wanting to be seen as weak.

"They're not going to be happy, huh?" Isabelle sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as the wind picked up.

Alec loured, "Nope. Like Jace said, complete bust. There wasn't even a hint of the Instruments there?"

"Honestly, it looked like they've never even seen the Fourth District. I've got to agree, where is Hodge getting his leads?"

"Don't let them hear you ask that. Questioning nonsensical orders? Must be a traitor, Iz," he replied, only half joking.

Soon enough, they broke through the swarming mass of trees, once more in Alicante's borders. There was something about knowing they were once more in their own city that seemed to ease their aches and pains, a strong feeling of security that the young hunters were very rarely allowed washing over them. Sebastian and Aline broke off from the group at the bottom of the hill, leaving only the three of them on their trek back to the Lightwood manor.

None of them were surprised when, as their home came into view, a silhouette stood before the open door. As the oldest, it fell to the exhausted Alec to inform his Father of their failure. As the oldest, it fell to him alone to shoulder the responsibility of that failure and bear the weight of Robert's disappointed stare.

Oddly enough, it was not the thought that he had disappointed his parents that was on his mind that evening as Alec lay in bed, counting the ceiling tiles.

Despite the overwhelming lethargy, he couldn't sleep. He'd usually take advantage of a night off to hang out with Max or train, but Isabelle had put on her Man Pants and forbidden him from getting out of bed until he'd gotten some rest. He may have been the oldest of the Lightwood children but there was no doubt about just who was in charge.

So under threat of his sister's wrath, Alec did as he was told. Sleep eluded him though. He was too switched on, mind buzzing too loudly, all around the one subject; the warlock.

It just – it made no sense. Alec had been on his back, his weapon fallen well out of reach, more than a little distracted by the feline getting too familiar with his face. You couldn't have painted a more fitting picture of vulnerability. And yet, the warlock had laughed. Laughed and sounded so honest-to-god human while he did it. The only way the man could have had an easier victory would have been if Alec had tripped and fallen on his own Stele, but no, he had laughed and let the moment of open attack pass.

Alec couldn't get his head around it. If it had been the other way around, he would not have hesitated to use the man's display of weakness against him for all it was worth. War was war, after all. The fact that he was still breathing was so difficult to process. It just didn't make sense.

Downworlders were ruthless monsters. That had been the very first thing he had learned. Shadowhunter 101. They were evil and cruel, wearing the mask of human to mock and fool us, and they were as likely to eat your hand as they were to shake it.

The images didn't correlate. The facts about his enemies that he had been raised upon contradicted what had happened that day. There had been nothing evil or cruel in the way the warlock had spared him despite Alec being the one who had sought him out for attack. There had been nothing ruthless in those laughter-filled eyes as the warlock had spoken to him, the same way his family did, the words sounding just the same even though they were coming from a Downworlder's supposedly poisonous tongue. He didn't match the image of Downworlders that Alec had been taught at all.

"Alec?" A soft voice pulls him from his thoughts with a jolt. Alec struggled to sit up, glancing over to the doorway.

"Hey, Max. What's up?"

Max shifted from one foot to the other, a mischievous little smile forming on his lips. "I was gonna ask Jace but he's going at it with Sebastian again-"
"I thought they went home?"

"Dunno, him and Aline are downstairs, guess they came back," the boy shrugged, "Anyway, wanna spar? Izzy's with them so she won't notice."

Well, when the cat's away...

"Sure, just let me grab my stuff," Alec replied, rising from the mattress. At least for that day, he pushed the warlock to the back of his mind.

Not that he stayed there for long. A week passed from that day and the warlock was never far from his thoughts. Despite his constant presence, however, his reasoning was still as much a mystery to the Shadowhunter as day one.

And then Alec had the dream.

Smoky lights flickered across the cramped and crowded room, a haze of blues, pinks and greens, casting an eerie glow upon the mass of swaying people. There was barely a corner of the lavishly decorated room that didn't have two or three people huddled within it, closer than was decent or even practical for a conversation. And the people – Alec had never seen such an array of difference. Men and women, with hair of vibrant colours and eyes that glowed brighter than any light, skin that seemed to move even when they were still, clothes that clung to them tighter than their own shadow. One dancing woman appeared to leave behind a quickly fading blaze of white wherever she moved.

Alec had never been inside a club before. He knew of their existence, obviously. However, they were considered a strictly Downworlder environment, overrun with filth and things that the children of Angel blood should never allow themselves contact with. No, he had never been inside a club, but he knew one when he saw it.

The music was blaring from unseen speakers, the air torn apart by the sharp beats and cutting vibrations. It entranced Alec to watch the writhing fray on the dance floor manage to follow such a chaotic sound with their bodies, to twist and twirl to keep up with the noise, moving in a way he couldn't fathom being capable of himself. He knew how to dance, but not to music like that, not in such an unrestrained way. If someone moved like they were at a Shadowhunter gala, they'd be thought possessed.

It was the most intense dream Alec could remember ever having had, so overwhelmingly vivid. He could feel the floor vibrate beneath his bare feet. He heard the music, the laughter, the bellowed words as clearly as if they were truly standing right beside him. The air felt hot on his dampening skin. People around him bumped shoulders or stepped on his toes and it felt so damn real.

"FYI, you should never give a Warlock your real name," a voice stated lightly from behind him, making Alec jolt. He spun around, hand automatically going to his hip but finding only the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, no holster, no blade.

The Warlock was perched atop a bar stool, drink in one hand, cheek resting lazily in the other. His oddly golden eyes glinted, a flicker of amusement as Alec pawed uselessly at his hip for a weapon he didn't have. He was dressed differently than he had been before, the drab black uniform traded in for bright leather, a slight sheen of glitter making his skin glisten in the strobe lighting. His raven hair, which had fallen about his face in waves, was now gelled up into colourful spikes. He took a small sip from the glass, staring at Alec expectantly.

Just what he was expecting, the Shadowhunter had no idea. If it was anything other than a baffled and uneasy silence, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"Would you like a drink?" the Warlock asked after the wary stare he was getting proved unrelenting, gesturing to the menu nailed over the bar, "I've found you can't go wrong with a Slippery Nipple."

Alec was fairly sure he'd never heard of a drink with nipple in the title, slippery or otherwise. Nor had he ever been inside a club, even seen one long enough to be able to recall such a degree of detail that he could recreate it so realistically.

"Am – Am I dreaming?"

The Warlock's lips curled into a little grin.

"You're... sleeping. Anyway, sit down, you're getting in people's way."

The man wasn't wrong, people shoving past him to get to the bar or the dance floor, caring less and less by the minute if they trod all over him. Gingerly, Alec stepped closer to the bar, missing out the stool next to the Warlock and hopping up on the next one. If the golden eyed man was bothered by the careful space placed between them, he showed no indication, grin growing as he gestured for the barman.

"So yay or nay on that drink?"

Alec barely heard him. His eyes flickered around the room, searching from corner to corner, but finding nothing. There were no doors, not even at the sides of the bar, not so much as a fire escape. God only knew how people managed to get in but there was sure as hell no getting out. His palms were quickly becoming clammy and it had nothing to do with the heat of the room. He was itching for the feel of cool metal in his hand, the comforting weight of that worn handle he never went anywhere without. Panic had flooded him now, seeping into every bone and muscle, a tension he was in no situation to dispel.

If the Warlock attacked, he was fucked. No Stele, no runes, not even an escape route. He had been so confused about why he had been let go that night. Well, the answer was obvious now; he hadn't been. The Warlock was just waiting to finish their fight by his own terms. Alec, defenceless, trapped and apparently not even conscious.

Years of instinct boiled beneath his skin, urging him to make the first move, his pride compelling him to at least be the one to draw first blood. Logic knocked that instinct clean away, however. Even if he did attack first, who was to say the room full of people weren't on the Warlock's side? He was not only without weapon and retreat, he was vastly outnumbered.

"...They have coke? I mean, I'm not sure if you're even old enough to drink. Look like you could use something stiffer though."

"What do you want?" Alec was all hostility now, hunched in on himself defensively, watching the passing people as though they'd killed his puppy. All that was running through his mind was how the Warlock planned to off him. All that was running through Magnus' mind was how much the Shadowhunter now looked like Chairmen Meow when he accidentally trod on him.

"Nothing in particular. Just fancied a chat," Magnus replied, nonchalant. He wasn't oblivious to how defensive the boy had become, going from wary to defcon one in the space of a minute. He counted himself lucky that weaponry didn't translate over to dreams. He'd have been minus an eye, for sure, and they really did work best as a pair.

Sceptical barely covered the expression on Alec's face then.

"Am I... really here?"

"You're here as much as I am," Magnus assured, for all the good it did.
"And just how 'here' are you? And where exactly is … here?" Making chit-chat with his potential killer, this was far more Jace-like behaviour than was safe, Alec was sure.

"I'm very much here. As much as it's possible to be, anyway. And 'here' is in your head – Like I said before, you're asleep. I wouldn't call it your dream though, since I've hijacked it for a bit, hope you don't mind. I imagine you've never been anywhere like this before. Do you like it?"

"...What?" Magnus may well have been speaking Swahili for all the sense he was making to the Shadowhunter. The most he managed to grasp of what was said was... "Wait, you're in my head?"

Magnus winced, both at the tone and the expression on Alec's face. He had rather been hoping they could gloss over the tiny issue of mental invasion.

"When you say it like that, it sounds weird," Magnus sighed, turning on the stool to face him properly, "It's really not as bad as all that. Your mind's all in one piece, isn't it?"

Apparently not as much a comfort as it had been intended, Alec suddenly going pale.

"If you're looking for plans, you've wasted your time. I have no information that could be of use to you," he stated, voice turning business-like and impersonal, a careful monotone.

"Relax, darling. I'm not here under orders, not planning on screwing with your mind until you're convinced your name's Alexandra. Like I said, I just fancied a chat."

Alec wasn't convinced. There was an enemy inside his head. One he was powerless to do anything against. Warlocks were notorious for their powers, though he had no idea they went so far as taking over someone's dreams. If he was really inside Alec's head, he could do anything. Steal any Clave information Alec had, manipulate his memories until his mind was filled with nothing but lies, turn him against his brethren and his family, the man could even break him down until Alec was nothing but a mindless servant to him. Even if he tried to wake himself up, which he had no idea how to go about, if the Warlock didn't leave first, his consciousness might still stay inside Alec's head. The possibilities were terrifying, his helplessness against them smothering.

He was completely at this Downworlder's mercy.

The awkward silence was somehow louder than the music blasting in the room, and silence was never something Magnus had handled particularly well. There was half a seconds thought that maybe this whole thing hadn't been such a good idea, but it passed quickly. He'd just have to make it a good idea then. He'd come a little too far to be retreating now. Magnus Bane – no, General Magnus Bane never said die.

"I don't think I introduced myself the last time, did I? Magnus Bane, High Warlock, General of the Fourth District, big fan of blue eyes. And you are?" He extended his empty hand towards the boy, having to stretch over the empty stool between them. Rather than shake it, Alec just looked at it like it might be infected.

"...I already told you my name," Alec replied, then added beneath his breath, "Which was probably a really stupid thing to do, in hindsight."

Magnus retracted his hand just short of leaving it hanging there an awkward amount of time. The kid really wasn't holding up his end of the conversation.

"Mm. For future reference, I don't advise it. But what do you prefer? Full on Alexander or something shorter; Alex, Lex-"

"Alec."

"Right! Alec it is," Magnus beamed. At least they were finally getting somewhere. Or not, as Alec just continued to look at him mistrustfully. Dear lord, it was like talking to a brick wall. A very uneasy brick wall. "Look, I get it. Hopping into your head was not the best way to introduce myself. In my defense, I can hardly come knocking on Alicante's door to ask if you can come out to play, can I?"

"Normal people use the phone," Alec couldn't help responding, though fairly sure there was nothing ordinary about the heavily glittered man sitting across from him in an imaginary club sipping at an obscenely named cocktail.

"Normal people don't break in to people's bedrooms. Neither of us are really in a position to judge," Magnus felt the need to point out, "And I don't own a phone. When I can do things like this, there seems little point."

"You do this often?" Alec asked, incredulous. Downworlder or no, he couldn't imagine any society considering this the communication norm. Then again, he himself had enough trouble grasping the concept of touch screen phones, so he probably wasn't the best judge there either.

"It's not like I'm popping in to someone's dreams every time I need to borrow some sugar! There are rules against that, trust me. But it was the only way I could think of to get in touch."

"Why are you going so far to get in touch with me? Are you bothered about the fight or something – want to finish what you started?"

Ah, but that was just it, wasn't it? For the first time since Alec had arrived at the club, Magnus hesitated to answer. Why exactly had he gone so far just to talk to the boy again? One fight, barely two or three sentences, and he had found himself wanting to see the Shadowhunter he hadn't been able to beat again. The simple answer was, just because. Magnus could barely justify it to himself. He knew it was foolish. They were enemies, by blood and by nature, and the only reason they had met in the first place was because Alec had launched an assault on his home.

It had been that very attack, though. Tooth and nail, every breath, they had been desperate to land a single hit on one another. No punches had been pulled in that fight. Magnus had used the most vicious spells. Alec had lunged with the intent of plunging that poisonous knife right into his heart. They were trying to kill each other, plain and simple.

Then Alec had faltered, been taken off guard and left open for attack. It was so... human. Magnus had never seen a Shadowhunter fall before, unless it was because their bones had broken or their heart stopped beating. The blue-eyed nephilim had made a mistake and stumbled to the ground. And Magnus had found it so honest-to-god human that he hadn't even been able to bring himself to take advantage of it.

And then... they spoke. Barely enough to constitute an actual conversation, but it had been enough. Easy words shared between them, without malice hidden beneath the boy's breath, no taunts rolling off his tongue. There was none of the arrogance he was so used to having flung at him, none of the groundless hate from a stranger just because his eyes were different or his blood of other descent. It had hardly been like speaking to a Shadowhunter at all, and Magnus couldn't help being struck by that thought.

What had really done it, though, was that Alexander Lightwood had remained. Magnus had seen the boy leap from the window, disappear into the shadows to join up with his companions, but he had not disappeared from the Warlock's mind. It... was new. Usually, people were forgettable. He met so many, all the same – a mass of faces that just became one in his memory, no personality distinguishable from the last, just a horde of the power-grabbing and glory-seeking. But not with Alec. Magnus had remembered him entirely, even though the encounter was so short it barely seemed worth remembering.

It was the fact that Magnus had remembered that boy despite happily forgetting everyone else that made Alec stand out. It was the fact that Alec stood out that made Magnus seek to see him at least one more time. It was no more weird an answer than any he had given so far, so that was exactly what he said, "I just wanted to see you again. No ill intent. No hidden motives. Just... felt like it."

Alec stared at him incredulously. The very idea that Magnus had gone so far simply on a whim made no sense to him. He was not so interesting that someone would go to so much trouble just to share a few words with him. It was unfathomable that he could have made any kind of impression in such a small moment of time. Yet here Magnus was, visiting in his head, making no move to harm him.

His disbelief was irrelevant, Alec decided, since there was nothing he could do about the situation anyway.

"...I'll have a coke," was the only thing he could think of to say.

The entire thing was surreal. Sitting in a club that maybe didn't even exist, and if it did, he wasn't really inside of it, talking to his sworn enemy and the man he had been trying to kill only a week before, sipping at a coke that tasted real but he was fairly sure wasn't. Alec had never been talkative by nature, but that didn't seem to matter to Magnus, who was happy enough to carry the conversation so long as Alec gave his two cents every now and then. He was waiting, waiting for the moment the dream shattered and Magnus attacked, for the other people in the club to suddenly swarm him and for everything to go to hell in a handbasket. The moment never came, the dream drawing on calmly – well, as calm as you got in a bustling nightclub.

It was weird, Alec decided. Not the situation, it went without saying that that was as bizarre as it got. Talking to Magnus, that is. Alec couldn't exactly say he'd ever wondered what making chit chat with a Downworlder would be like. They were enemies, after all, talking was probably the last thing they'd do when in contact with each other. Still, he hadn't expected it to go so... naturally. It flowed, as much as conversation ever flowed with Alec, who liked to choose his words carefully. One topic melding easily into another, harmless little questions that Alec couldn't find any double meaning to, the odd flirtatious comment that took him by surprise and had his cheeks flushing an uncomfortable red.

Eventually, Magnus paused, turning oddly solemn. The club around them slowly began to dissolve. The people just flickered away like the screen had been turned off, the strobe lights disappearing, the walls surrounding them bleeding away until only the two of them remained, standing in a vast emptiness of white.

"There's one more thing I wanted to ask you. You don't have to answer, I'm just curious – when you and your friends came to my District, it wasn't just to attack, was it? You were looking for something. What?"

Alec was only momentarily wary. The question was a straight forward one and one he couldn't believe the man didn't know the answer to. It was certainly no holy Clave secret.

"We were looking for the Instruments."

Magnus watched him then, closely, carefully, as though looking for a hint of a lie on the boy's face. He clearly didn't find one as the tight-lipped expression faded away, a soft smile taking its place.

"It was good talking to you, Alec. I'd like to do it again some time... but, if you'd prefer not to, put a dreamcatcher over your bed. It'll keep me out of your mind," Magnus confessed, voice becoming just an echo as even he began to flicker out of sight. Alec opened his mouth to reply, though ask him later and he wouldn't have been able to tell you what he planned to say, when Magnus blinked out of existence.

He woke with a jolt to the morning light.

Alec debated with himself all the following day, but in the end, logic won out. As harmless as the man had been, Magnus was a Downworlder – no, worse, he was a General of the Downworlder army – and he just couldn't trust the Warlock inside of his mind.

That night, Alec hung the worn old dreamcatcher he'd found in Isabelle's room above his bed. True to his word, Alec's dream was Magnus free that night.

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AN: Thanks to My Imperfect World, Humanized Serenity, merlotte456, SeptemberEnds911, Ryssa1457 and Bookworm24601 for reviewing. Hope you guys liked the chapter!