Author's Note:

Dear Reader,

Thanks so much for sticking with me into the actual story! And thank you as well for the reviews/faves/follows! They are so very much appreciated.

On with the show then, shall we? :)

Happy reading!

Cheers,
K.

(***)

Retrograde
Chapter 1: Imposter

(***)

Was stupidity a genetic trait? Because if it was, Magnus planned to steer clear of Sandrine's relatives.

He shook his head in disbelief and let out a resigned sigh as he flipped a page in one of his reference books. The light in his workspace was a bit too dim to make out the notes he'd scrawled near the spine over a century ago, and so, with a subdued flick of his fingers, he increased the wattage of the nearby lamp.

How, in all that was demonic, had a warlock portaled herself into a river? He was still scratching his head about that one, about why a concept as simple as spatial displacement had managed to elude even someone as young as Sandrine. Or maybe, he'd become a bit too arrogant in his old age. Then again, was it arrogance if he had the goods to back up the statement? Perhaps his scoffing at the ineptness of those younger than himself was well justified. He couldn't argue with the fact that he'd been the one they'd called at an obscene hour to fix the problem.

And fix it, he had – of course. Quite easily, in fact. Still, professional curiosity had gotten the better of him, and had left him with the need to figure out how she'd accomplished the gross miscalculation in the first place. It wasn't every day that the laws of warlock magic crossed paths with particle theory and quantum mechanics.

He vaguely remembered planning out the minutia of this magical phenomenon many, many years ago. Back then, all the trial and error experiments that he and Henry Branwell had tirelessly muddled over had eventually yielded a mind-blowing breakthrough just when they needed it. But now, well, portal-making had become so second-nature that he'd taken it for granted.

He leaned back in his seat as a small smile tugged at his lips. He'd never been one to dwell on the past – honestly, for a creature with his lifespan, he couldn't if he wanted to stay sane – but sometimes, just sometimes, he allowed himself the luxury of reminiscing on the more pleasant moments. It was rather like taking out an old, faded photograph. He would look on it a bit, let the sepia-toned feelings caress him with gentle, phantom-like figures, and then, tuck the images away in his mind again with a sense of fond nostalgia.

And tuck it away he did after just a few minutes. Even with the bottomless well of memories he harbored, Magnus preferred not to dwell too long on them. He thought himself more of a live-for-the-moment kind of man, and his chosen lifestyle made no secret of that fact.

Straightening, he leaned forward and resumed his perusal of the book. He had only gotten a few paragraphs in when he heard the door open and close on the other side of the loft.

Alexander.

Although he didn't move immediately to greet the Shadowhunter, he definitely did relish the warmth that spread through his chest in knowing the other man had returned. Their relationship had been hard-fought and hard-won, and Magnus was shameless in reaping the rewards. He was old enough to understand that what they had didn't come along often, and he'd be damned if he treated it like any other dalliance.

The sound of Alec shuffling about next door floated into his workroom, and Magnus listened with half an ear as he imagined his boyfriend putting away his gear and likely heading for the shower. He didn't know when or how, but since Alec had moved in, Magnus had begun to enjoy these moments – these casual, everyday moments – more than the overt acts of affection between them. Lovers had come and gone in his life, but these run-of-the-mill actions – coming home from work, or picking up groceries for the pantry – provided a level of comfort and intimacy he rarely experienced, if ever.

On a whim, Magnus decided to stay where he was for the time being. Let Alec seek him out for once. If the Shadowhunter didn't find him in bed fast asleep, Magnus was certain the younger man would search for him to say goodnight. He knew his lover well, insomuch as he was touched by Alec's simple consideration for those around him. Sometimes, though thankfully, not too often, Magnus wondered what he'd done in his debauched life to deserve the other man. He surely hadn't done anything grand to benefit mankind, angel-kind, or demon-kind, so either this was some sort of cosmic prank and he'd yet to hit the big punchline, or the powers that be had made a huge mistake. He preferred to think it was the latter, and when it came time to meet his maker, as they say, he would hopefully be the one to have the last laugh.

His prediction was right on the mark when he sensed Alec standing at the entrance of this workroom minutes later. Magnus gave no indication that he knew his boyfriend was there behind him, and when Alec didn't move, the half smile that had played on Magnus' lips became a loaded lopsided grin.

He was never one to shy away from attention, so, who was he to deny his boyfriend the opportunity to admire him silently?

Magnus didn't know how long they remained like that - him, pretending to work, and Alec, quietly watching - but a spark of impatience ignited inside him at the inactivity. He was just about to say 'screw it' and acknowledge his boyfriend when a strong arm wrapped around him, and warm lips pressed a reverent kiss on the side of his neck.

He savored the warmth and the touch. "Well, hello to you too, Alexander."

Alec didn't respond immediately. Instead, the Shadowhunter continued to work his mouth up along the side of his neck to a sensitive spot beneath his ear. An involuntary shiver worked its way down Magnus' spine as a quiet chuckle escaped his throat.

"If this is the reception I get when you work late, then I should encourage it more often," he murmured good-naturedly. Not that he didn't welcome the initiative, but Alec was rarely so assertive. "What's gotten you so frisky?"

Alec mumbled some unintelligible words against his skin, but didn't break from his task. Deciding to let the question slide - mainly because the actions in lieu of answers were so damn enjoyable - Magnus turned in his seat, and captured his boyfriend's wandering lips with his own.

Magnus had established long ago that he could kiss Alec for the next millennium, and never tire of it. The younger man tasted of innocence, and mint, and something uniquely Alec. He grabbed the back of his boyfriend's neck, fingers threading through that soft hair, and deepened the kiss. His tongue darted out, playfully taunting his partner's lips before demanding entrance. A pleased moan vibrated through Magnus when Alec complied without any resistance, and all of a sudden, the tone changed. It was as if that one little sound had opened a floodgate holding back a tide of need and hunger. Assertiveness gave way to aggression, and reverence became urgency.

Magnus hit the edge of the table at the force with which Alec had pushed forward, and through the heated haze of desire, his internal warning bells rang. Frustration and worry mixed together for a sobering slap as he pulled away.

"Alec," he said lowly between heavy breaths. "What's wrong?"

He stared directly into that focused gaze, searching for some physical clue as to why the Shadowhunter seemed so ... so off. Behind those passion-infused eyes was a haunted quality that squeezed at Magnus' heart. He found himself mentally going through a list of what could've happened during the younger man's patrol tonight to put that look there.

But Alec didn't answer. Instead, he leaned in again to continue where they'd left off. Magnus had to place stilling hands on both sides of his face to stop him.

"Alexander." He spoke more firmly this time, fully expecting an answer. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Usually, the younger man was easy to read. But tonight, Magnus couldn't discern a single thing from his boyfriend's expression or words.

"Just leave it, Magnus." Alec avoided the question again, and recaptured his mouth with a force more brutal than before. Magnus found himself standing, the back of his legs pressing against the edge of the table. The need to find the source of Alec's pain warred with the liquid heat that languidly tainted every thought and action in his body. Books he'd been flipping through just minutes ago fell to the floor with dull thumps, but they were afterthoughts now. He couldn't have cared less what happened to those old things.

Desire had won out, seizing control and dictating terms. Within seconds, Magnus was giving as good as he got, his tongue matching his partner's stroke for stroke, and hands working frantically on belts and buttons in anticipation of feeling bare flesh. And holy fuck, was he ever aroused. It would likely remain a mystery until the end of time how all Alec had to do was look at him the right way, and he could have a full erection.

His fingers moved quickly, deftly, as they worked their way across familiar rune-covered skin, absently registering the firm muscle straining beneath it all. They made their way down, exploring, kneading, but when they slid under the waistband of Alec's unbuttoned pants, they were abruptly brushed away.

An elegant eyebrow rose in question. Magnus broke their contact to ask what the younger man was up to, but all he could do was gasp as Alec reach down and grabbed his cock.

"Shit, Alec-" His breath hitched in surprise as the other man started to stroke and fondle him. Where in bloody hell had his usually shy boyfriend learned to do this?

Without pause, Alec's mouth worked its way down his neck again, licking and sucking and biting, leaving a rapidly cooling trail in its wake. Somewhere, sometime, Magnus' shirt had been ripped open, the buttons having flown to who knew where. Which was a pity, the warlock mused, watching with hooded eyes as his lover's dark head move lower. It was a John Varvatos, and he'd really grown quite fond of it.

A rush of scorching blood carried pinpoints of fire to every atom of his being, dancing along his skin and pooling in his dick. It caused a hypersensitivity that Magnus both hated and relished. And when those warm, moist lips clamped down on a nipple, he found himself surrendering a battle he didn't know he'd been fighting. His hand came up, and he threaded his fingers through his lover's hair, pulling him closer. He tilted his head back, and hissed in pain when Alec's teeth nipped at the hardened nub, but a sound of pure pleasure quickly followed when the younger man began to lave it with his tongue. The glamour dropped from his eyes just then, and he knew they glowed with an otherworldly light.

Magnus let the Shadownhunter throw all the attention he wanted on his body, mainly because he simply didn't have the strength or will to do otherwise. Alec worked his mouth masterfully, going from one nipple to the other, and taking care to ensure not an inch of skin was neglected. Belatedly, Magnus realized that his pants and underwear had somehow pooled around his ankles, exposing him in all his erect glory to his lover. The hand that had been so expertly stroking him disappeared, but before Magnus could protest, Alec dropped down on his knees and replaced it with his mouth.

"Fuck, Alec..."

The corners of the lips wrapped around his cock tilted up wickedly. He saw the intensity in the Shadownhunter's eyes beneath those impossibly long lashes, and in that moment, had Alec asked for the sun, the moon, and the starts, Magnus would've moved heaven and hell to wrap them in a tidy little bow for him.

And then, Alec's mouth began to work - sucking him, teasing him, killing him, right from the base to the tip. Magnus gasped as his lover's tongue slid over the slit with its velvety texture, one arm moving quickly to brace himself on the table as his legs lost the ability to support him. Instinctively, his back arched, and he thrust his hips forward, wanting more, even as the built-up tension became unbearable. His breaths became heavy, his pulse racing, and just when Magnus thought his body would expire from overstimulation, he came.

He blanked out briefly, existing in a state where sight and sound and life were inconsequential, but slowly, surely, the world began to right itself. He noticed the shelves, the books, and all the ornamental knick-knacks in his workroom come back into focus with heavy-lidded eyes, and wished reality would stay away for just a while longer. He liked it here, here in this space where it was simply his Alexander and himself, and where nothing and no one else mattered.

But Alec rose, and his little self-illusion shattered. Magnus watched, intrigued, at the inexplicably sinful expression on his lover's face - eyes shining with dark intent, and lips coated with his semen. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to assure himself that this beautiful creature was truly real and truly his. Yet, before he could find the strength to move, Alec leaned forward and kissed him again, deeply, passionately, and desperately. Magnus tasted the bitterness of his earlier ejaculation lingering in the younger man's mouth, but it was quickly eclipsed by a need and a want that pierced soul-deep.

With willpower he didn't know he still harbored, Magnus broke their contact, and pulled back. He didn't know what had gotten into Alec - what he had seen, or what he had done - but he would gladly, and without hesitation, do what was necessary to ease whatever was haunting his lover.

"Let's move this to somewhere more comfortable, shall we?" Magnus said breathlessly, surprised his voice still worked.

Alec paused for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, without a word, he nodded, and pulled Magnus hurriedly toward the bedroom.

(***)

Magnus didn't know what woke him up. His eyes opened slowly, and in that moment between wakefulness and sleep, his heart skipped a beat, and his stomach fluttered as if his subconscious was trying to warn him of some impending danger. But then, full consciousness took over, and he realized he was safely ensconced in a warm cocoon of blankets. He shifted in his bed, and smiled sleepily as a number of sore muscles throughout his body reminded him of what he'd been doing the previous night. Or was that, this morning?

The gray, pre-dawn light that filtered in through his curtains told him it was early. Very early. Ungodly even. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. He and Alec had been so involved in their 'extracurricular activities' that he was fairly certain they hadn't fallen asleep, exhausted and spent, until the wee hours of the morning. And while he could appreciate the work that went into causing his body's delicious soreness, he had thought that fucking his brains out all night would've entitled him to at least sleeping in.

Which brought him back to his initial question: what had woken him up?

His arm slid out to the right side of the bed, expecting to find another warm body just as tired as he was. Instead, it met cold, empty space. His brows drew together in concern. So much for some early morning cuddling. He hadn't forgotten about what had precipitated Alec's and his diversion earlier. Something must've happened last night to prompt the neediness in the Shadowhunter, and he intended to find out what.

He made to turn over, but as he did so, he had a strange feeling someone was watching him. It was an odd sensation - much like a spider dancing along the back of his neck - and one he wasn't used to in his own home. Reluctantly, he pushed the bed covers down, and looked over at the bedroom door.

Nothing.

Goosebumps formed on his bare skin, and he shivered. Whether that was from being exposed to the cooler ambient air, or this feeling he couldn't explain, he didn't know, but the unease remained, sitting heavy in his mind.

"Alec?" he called out. Surely it was too early to head into the Institute for training already, even for someone as dedicated as Alec. He didn't hear a response, but he did pick up on some movement in the next room. Bidding a fond farewell to his comfortable, cozy bed, he got up, grabbed his robe off the nearby chair to ward off the morning chill, and padded softly toward the sound.

He stopped short of fully entering the common area. One of the benefits of living in a loft was the open concept design, and being able to take in everything with one quick look. And so, as he stepped into his dining space, he could see Alec standing on the other side in front of the large window, staring out into the dimming lights of a waking city. Magnus didn't know if the Shadowhunter was aware of his presence, but he certainly took a moment to admire the broad shouldered figure of his boyfriend. The sight had a rather artistic quality to it: the expert strokes painting an outline of a brooding warrior against a backdrop of the emerging sun, looking out beyond those windows into an endless sea of unseen battles and endless conflict. Magnus was almost loathed to disturb it.

But he did. Quietly, he approached the other man from behind, and wrapped his arms around that narrow waist. Judging from the non-reaction he received, Alec had probably known he'd been there the whole time. Magnus pressed a brief kiss to the bare shoulder, and savored the warmth that came from his lover's shirtless torso.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Nothing's wrong, Magnus," Alec replied after a few seconds. He neither turned around nor moved away, so Magnus reveled in their contact and the comforting rumble of his companion's voice a little longer.

He would never have pegged Alec as enigmatic or mysterious - his emotions were often written on his face or evident in his tone for all to see and hear - but that response was a perfect example of an answer that answered nothing.

"When did you become such a good liar, darling?" Magnus stepped away and moved to stand beside the younger man. He stared out at the fading city streetlights, so tiny and insignificant in scale from where they stood, and wondered what his boyfriend found so fascinating about them.

"I'm not lying."

Magnus cast a sidelong glance toward the Shadowhunter at those flat words. The early morning light bathed that handsome profile into harsh angles and planes, and for the first time, Magnus couldn't read the man. He didn't like it.

He watched Alec closely for a moment, his mind working frantically to figure out what was going on. "Alec -"

"Do you ever wonder what our lives would've been like if we'd never met?"

The abrupt question silenced Magnus completely. Where had that come from?

"Alexander." He stopped. This was perhaps one of the rare occasions where he didn't know what to say. He set his mouth into a more serious line, and opted not to play the charming, feckless warlock he was accustomed to. In its place was a somber, more business-like demeanor. "No, I have not wondered such a thing," he said in a low tone. "It was a conscious decision that I made long ago. I can't dwell on the 'could've beens'. If my thoughts strayed that way, I would slowly lose my mind. It's simple self-preservation. Unlike you, I don't think in terms of years or decades. My frame of reference is in centuries and millennia, and suffering any kind of regret for a decision I made or didn't make for that length of time would drive even the strongest mind crazy. And frankly, despite all my bragging, I'm not really that strong."

Magnus watched Alec's expression harden as he spoke, and for a fleeting second, he almost didn't recognize the man who stood beside him. His heart broke to see this happening and not know what had caused it. He reached out to touch him, wanting to erase those inexplicable lines that had formed on the Shadowhunter's face, but before he could, Alec turned away.

"I'll be at the Institute," the younger man said as he made for the bedroom, presumably to get dressed.

Magnus stood frozen for an instant, arm slightly raised and mouth partially open. Well, that was unexpected. Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, did not get brushed off like that, least of all by his own boyfriend. It stung. He knew he hadn't done anything to warrant such treatment, but it still hurt that Alec hadn't sought him out and shared what was bothering him.

He considered following the younger man, and questioning him until everything was out in the open, but he was not 'that' type of boyfriend. Flirtatious and bold, in an endearing sort of way, yes, but there was one thing he was not, and that was clingy. Although a part of him hated the idea, he reminded himself to let the Shadowhunter be, and trust Alec to confide in him when he was ready.

Within minutes, Alec emerged in his habitual dark attire. He quickly gathered the gear he'd discarded by the door the previous night, and didn't spare a glance Magnus' way, which hurt more than the warlock cared to admit. The whole time, Magnus watched without a word. He wanted to say something, but the serious set of his boyfriend's features stayed his tongue momentarily. Still, long silences had always made him uneasy, and he didn't like the oppressive one that had fallen over them.

"Don't forget my party tonight," he ended up saying with false cheer, thinking it was a neutral enough topic to mention. "Being the High Warlock of Brooklyn for twenty years deserves some sort of celebration, I would think!"

Alec paused briefly at his comment before he inclined his head slightly in response. Then, he exited the loft, leaving Magnus with the uncharacteristically loud click of the door latch.

(***)

The air seemed colder than usual.

Or so Alec thought when he turned over. His groggy mind took a moment to register the hard pressure points against his body when the startling realization finally sank in. His eyes popped open, and his lungs suffered a sharp intake of breath.

This was not the Institute. Nor was this Magnus' loft. No, wherever he was, it was cold and dusty and just a little bit damp. He didn't move right away, preferring to carefully assess his immediate environment for danger before letting on that he was fully awake.

He was alone. That much he could tell by sound. There was no movement, no shuffling, no breaths save his own. The only thing he could make out was the distant, rhythmic echo of dripping water.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and had to wait a few seconds before the room stopped spinning and his nausea subsided. Memories started to slowly trickle back into his molasses-thick brain: the routine patrol, the long walk home, the surprise attack.

Shit, what kind of mess had he gotten himself into now?

He looked around at his surroundings as he rubbed his temples and willed the throbbing to stop. There was nothing but gray walls on all sides, the dull monotony broken by one small window eight feet off the ground and a heavy-looking door that Alec bet was locked. A prison... he was in a makeshift prison of concrete and steel.

"Well, aren't I the lucky one?" he muttered to himself, and noticed the dryness in his mouth. He felt around his waist, and checked his pockets. No weapons, no phone, and no stele. Nothing. Not that he'd expected otherwise.

With a pained grunt, he pushed himself up. His body didn't like the new position, and he had to will his legs to remain steady to avoid a graceless tumble back onto the hard floor. Moving with the speed of a man five times his age, he made his way to the door, and tried to turn the handle on the slimmest chance his assumption had been wrong.

Locked.

He rammed it a few times with his shoulder, and met with no give. It was solid and likely bolted from the outside.

Fuck.

He leaned forward, rested his forehead on the frame, and breathed deeply to maintain some semblance of calm. It was then that he noticed all the provisions. A pile of canned food, bottles of water, and even a bucket for what Alec assumed was waste all sat innocently in the far corner of the room, tucked away from view until that moment, when the light from the window made it visible. He walked over, his strides steadier now that the effects of whatever drug had been in his system began to fade, and grabbed a bottle of water. Breaking the seal on the lid, he downed the whole thing in record time, and basked in the feel of the liquid against his parched throat. He didn't know who or what had attacked him, but if he had to face that enemy again, he might as well do it well-hydrated.

Letting out a tired sigh, he sank back down on the ground, and leaned up against the wall. A quick glance at his watch told him it was early morning. He was sure Magnus would've noticed his absence by now, and likely raised the alarms. And if not, if Magnus hadn't noticed his absence and assumed he'd stayed overnight at the Institute, then Jace and Izzy would definitely realize he was late for training. And he, Alec Lightwood, was never late.

So, by his estimation, all he had to do then was wait.