The Institute
a multi-chapter fan fic by ariviand

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

A/N: All right. Last update I promised action. Here you have it. Sorry again about the wait.


Chapter Twelve: Identity

Alec could hear Isabelle's boots clicking down the hall beside him, but fortunately, his sister hadn't brought up last period or tried to tease him about their professor. The only thing she had said was "it feels so much better in here," to which he nodded. The AC was welcome, though it would feel even better if they could take off their jackets, or even change into something more comfortable altogether. Like a baggy sweaters and slacks. His usual.

Alec had vaguely wondered if one of the students in the class was not as clueless as the rest of them seemed to be. Someone was always leading the line exactly where they needed to go, while the rest of the first years hadn't even been provided with a proper schedule. There was something strange about that, but Alec didn't have much time to investigate the theory, because a door was creaking open ahead and the others were filing into their next class room.

Soon Alec was walking through the open door as well, right after Isabelle.

No, it wasn't a classroom. He recognized the smell of body heat, of hardwood and resin, of metal weaponry and determination.

It was a training room.

Suddenly, all the indecision from the last class faded into insignificance and Alec could actually feel a smiling tugging at his lips. Jace was beaming, cracking his knuckles like he couldn't wait to get to work. Isabelle looked nonplussed, though Alec knew she would enjoy the class just as much as they did - although she definitely needed a change in footwear.

"Good morning," a friendly voice greeted from the corner of the room.

There was a little gasp from the redheaded girl. She obviously recognized their professor.

The broad-shouldered man gave the girl a little smile, before addressing the class again. "Welcome to your favorite class at the Institute: Combat training."

There was a pleasant hum and a number of grins going around as the first years received confirmation. Of course, shadowhunters were eager to take a break from book-learning and get down to the physical component in their education. Their bodies were primed for the exercise, and there was an undeniable thrill every time they entered into a fight. Alec could feel the energy and exciting thrumming throughout his entire body, from his temple down to his fingertips, which he curled in restlessly against his palms.

"My name is Luke Graymark." A few students gasped in delayed recognition. The man continued to scan the room, leaning back against one of the mirrors set against the wall. There was something about his eyes, so bright even in the shadows of the room.

"You were a member of the Circle," Jace said, his tone respectful and in awe.

"Yes," The man answered, but paused so long Alec wasn't sure if he was going to say anything more on the subject. If he didn't, well, no one would blame him. But then Luke Graymark cleared his throat. "I was a young shadowhunter once, like you. Before there was any thought of war, I was just a student. A very bad student, at that." The professor chuckled, crossing his muscular forearms across his chest. Alec studied that detail distractedly. He was so toned. But there was something else, not just the mark of a seasoned fighter.

Strangely enough, Alec could make out a few scars across the older man's arms, the pale, shining white of trace scars on his throat, but no prominent, remotely fresh Marks. Maybe he didn't apply them anymore, being retired from active duty, so to speak.

"Intense training allowed me to bear my first Marks, to kill my first demon, to have any chance of calling myself a shadowhunter. Of course, it was in my blood, same as it is in yours. But not everyone has the power and the will to fulfill their destiny. I nearly lost hope."

This seemed like such a strange confession coming from the infamous Lucian Graymark, who had fought beside Valentine. He had had the courage to walk away from the Circle, though there had been a big question mark as to what had become of the man after that. Some suspected he had been murdered by Valentine. Others thought a natural death for a shadowhunter - a premature death, had found Graymark during the troubled time. But the former seemed more likely; no one crossed Valentine. He was like the evil villain in children stories, devious and powerful and willing to go to terrifying lengths to meet his goal. It was a name that still caused the younger generation to shudder and recoil when they heard it - even when the man was supposed to be dead.

"How did you-" Alec caught himself asking, then his face heated up, and he trailed off, realizing it sounded impertinent. Besides, he was interrupting.

"Survive him?" Luke guessed. Alec was keenly aware that he still hadn't mentioned Valentine's name, and that was just as well. It was uncomfortable for everyone involved when the subject came up, that dark splotch on shadowhunter history.

"I nearly didn't," the professor answered, his tone grave. Everyone was quiet, and the silence was awkward.

"He was my parabatai once. It was only with his tutelage and his urging, that I made anything of myself. I nearly chose the existence of a mundane to escape my own overwhelming failure. It should have been my birthright, and maybe I naively thought it would come naturally, but as you know by now, it's something you must work at. It takes great concentration, courage, and heart. But with the proper encouragement, and the support of your brothers, you can work on your weaknesses and regain your sense of self. That is something you must never lose, the belief in what you are. Find strength inside you. You shouldn't have to give yourself over completely to someone else to find your own worth."

Not satisfied that the original explanation had veered off course, one of the students worked up the nerve to ask, "But what about Val-"

Luke Graymark cut him off just in time, before the name was spoken. "I didn't share his hate or his vision of the destruction of our world as we know it. I left before the worst of it, and I paid a high price for what he considered a betrayal of the Circle. And as it happened, I became the very thing he hates: a Downworlder."

If the silence was awkward before, it became painfully thick.

But Alec's mind was spinning ahead, making sense of all the details that had been bothering him: the lack of Marks, the strong build, the shining eyes. If he had been a Downworlder as well, he might have even noticed the scent of the man was off. He would have known immediately upon walking in the room, instead of spending several curious minutes on guesswork, staring at Luke Graymark looking for answers.

He was a werewolf.

Alec's heart sank for him. Everyone knew enough about lycanthropes to figure out what had happened. Lucian was born a shadowhunter, a part of their world. At some point he was bitten and turned into something else.

But if that fact bothered him, Luke still seemed confidant in his own skin. There was no regret on his face. He didn't shy away from a class full of first years as they studied him with interest. Eventually the professor pushed off the wall, straightening to his full height. And then he reached into the vee of his shirt and removed a pair of eyeglasses, sliding them into place over his blue eyes. The effect was kind of strange, a werewolf needing prescription glasses.

"So, enough about me. Why don't we get started?" Luke invited.

Jace was among the first to throw off his uniform jacket in the excitement, eager to train.

Alec followed suit, glancing over at his parabatai. It was reassuring. Usually when the subject of Valentine came up, Jace got really irritated and shut himself off. Unfortunately, he hadn't been watching the boy during Luke's introduction, too distracted by the were to notice. But if he had been looking at Jace instead, he would have sent him reassuring glances, hoping to comfort him, even if it was never something Jace seemed to want, sympathy or comfort. Still, that didn't change the fact that he needed and deserved it.

"For those of you who don't want to get your fresh new uniform dirty, I'll give you five minutes to run back to your rooms and change. Girls, this especially means you. You can't fight in skirts. Sorry, boys."

Several boys, including Jace, chuckled at the thought. Alec merely scowled, not seeing the appeal.

Alec waited impatiently for those five minutes to be up, having rolled up his sleeves and removed his shoes. Jace had removed his shirt entirely, a fact Alec was trying not to notice. But that was like trying to ignore the fact that the street had opened up in central Manhattan and a huge blue, fire-breathing dragon was picking off pedestrians and taxi cabs. There was no way you could not notice something like that. And the color of Jace's skin was this fine gradient between pale and tan, a kind of honey gold, and it was so smooth in spite of the scarring and Marks, so smooth that Alec really wanted to-

Digging his fingers into his palms, Alec tried to think of the redhead, Clary, doing a roundhouse kick in a skirt. He imagined she was wearing granny panties and had massively hairy legs, until the image was so revolting that he was able to get control of himself again.

And then the other students were filtering back into the room and Alec let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"All right. We're going to pair off in a minute. You can pick your partners." Alec knew immediately who his partner was going to be, and he didn't doubt for a moment that Jace would accept without thinking. But then the door creaked open again and a group of unfamiliar students entered the training room. Alec frowned at them, annoyed by the interruption.

"First years. These are the students in the class ahead of you. As has been tradition in combat training for generations, you will be training alongside older students. I want you to be challenged. I want you to fight with people who have some experience. You'll be helping each other out in this class, and if at any point you feel like this isn't fair, just remember: next year you'll have the privilege of taking on our new first years. Maybe that will sustain you," Luke chuckled. Alec spared Jace a glance. The blond was smiling, although that smile looked hungry.

He was too ready to pound a second year into the ground. It was exactly what Jace wanted.

So much for sticking together. Alec glanced back at the row of new students dispassionately, taking their measure. If he couldn't pair off with Jace, then he supposed it didn't really matter who his partner was. He wasn't going to be intimidated by someone only a year older than he was.