Chapter Eleven

In the library of the Lightwood Home, Magnus mixed a concoction for Alec. His finger twirled in constant circles, controlling the spoon that sat in the mug on the table. Jace, Isabelle and Clary sat squashed on one sofa, three pairs of eyes watching the spoon as it moved. Alec sat on the floor by the fire, concentrating on his breathing and trying not to waste whatever air he could consume.

"The book that contained the spell allowing the Downworlders to mark themselves was written with materials only found in the ocean," Magnus explained. "They tried to cover it up, send a different breed of Downworlder all together to the warlock with the book, but I was able to see through them."

"But why?" Isabelle demanded, eyes still wearily watching the magic flowing from Magnus' fingertips. "What do the mer-folk gain?"

"Easy," Jace said gruffly. "The ability to infiltrate Idris."

"I don't understand why that validates them turning Alec into a hybrid," Isabelle muttered.

Magnus stopped moving his finger, and the spoon in the cup stopped moving. The three Shadowhunters flinched, as if the cup was going to implode just because the magic had stopped flowing into it. "It doesn't," said Magnus. "It wasn't part of the original plan."

Isabelle noticed Jace stiffen when the warlock crouched beside Alec on the floor and handed him the cup of potion. There was barely any space between them as Magnus murmured something to her brother, his hand placed on his shoulder in an incredibly intimate fashion. Alec was nodding to whatever Magnus told him, cup clutched in both of his webbed hands. Then, with a gust of courage, he downed the cup in one gulp.

Without so much as explaining to the others what he had given Alec, Magnus stood up again and continued his story like there hadn't been a pause at all.

"Marking Downworlders to infiltrate Idris and creating a hybrid to end the war doesn't add up," Magnus explained, "which is what makes me think that it wasn't part of the original plan of attack. Maybe the mer-folk are going rogue, gone crazy with the desperation for the war to end, while the rest of the Downworlders still want to bring down the Shadowhunters. Still want blood to run through the streets of Idris."

"I will fight to my dying breath before allowing that to happen," Jace growled, standing up with determination.

"Which could happen sooner than you think if the upper hand the Downworlders have isn't rectified," Magnus reminded Jace.

"But how?" asked Clary. "There's nothing the Shadowhunters can do. They think torturing the captives will scare the Downworlders into surrender but all its doing is making them angrier. Hence why the mer-folk did this to Alec!"

"And if we show the Clave what they did to Alec . . ." Isabelle trailed off.

Jace glared at Magnus, enraged that the warlock had dared put Alec in such a position, even though it wasn't at all Magnus' fault. "They'll kill him," the blond spat.

Isabelle looked to Alec again, her heart splintering as she saw him fingering one of his arrows with his clawed fingernail. There would be no way he could shoot with the same accuracy with webbed hands. It could be possible, but not immediately. He'd have to practice, train like he was a novice all over again, all the previous work he had put into his archery forgotten.

"Maybe it's for the best," Alec muttered. The potion Magnus had given him gave him the ability to breath out of water without needing regular top ups of magic. The potion lasted longer and would only need topped up every few days, rather than every few hours. "I'm poisoned. I'm not a Shadowhunter anymore, nor am I a Downworlder. I'm a disgusting inbetween that nobody would want."

"Killing you is not an option!" Isabelle shouted, angry at Alec for so much as suggesting such a thing.

"And what's the other option, Isabelle? Hide from Clave? If you don't remember, I'm in the draft. It won't be long before another battle happens and I get called out. They'll find me when I don't show up and then what? I die anyway," Alec ranted. "Pointless."

"It will give us more time to"-

"I am useless now," Alec interrupted his sister. "I cannot fight in this condition, nor can I shoot an arrow. I have lost every piece of training I ever received, I have been hindered. The Shadowhunters won't want me. I was the best shooter in my Division, maybe even in the whole army, they keep me on the frontline because of that, and because of our parents' legacy. As soon as they find out what the mer-folk did though? As soon as they discover that I can't shoot anymore? I will become disposable. They'll expect me to walk to my execution without a fight."

Isabelle fought for something to say, something to do to convince her brother that his life was worth fighting for, Downworlder hybrid or not. It was difficult, however, because Alec was stubborn and no matter what anyone said, no truth would override his own.

"You could train," Clary said.

Jace leaned against the fireplace with one hand, the other clenched into a tight fist. "Train?" he repeated.

"If we go back to New York, to Hodge's Institute, Alec can train himself to fight again. Learn to use the things that are holding him back as advantages," Clary explained. "If he can maybe prove to the Clave that he is not out of action, nor is he turning his back on them . . . Maybe they'll look past the webs and the gills . . ."

Alec rolled his blue eyes. "And if I get drafted?" he asked.

Clary didn't have an answer. She shrugged, ginger hair falling in front of her fact as she admitted defeat. Isabelle pushed her fingers through her hair with frustration and Jace muttered something unintelligent under his breath. Alec rested his chin on his knees, resigned to his fate.

"Isn't it obvious?" Magnus asked. Eight eyes lifted to look at the brilliantly bright warlock, each one holding confusion. Magnus looked down at Alec, sympathy in his cat-like iris'. "You go on Duty Leave."

~xXx~

That night, Magnus couldn't sleep. The Lightwood home was nice, but had been stripped of any and all life as a result of the war. Everything was being used in the fight, meaning that basic rations for everyone didn't just mean food. It also meant heat; water; materials; furniture. Magnus wondered what the Shadowhunters would think if they saw his apartment. His bedroom alone could probably provide them with all the material they needed for the entire year. Why didn't Magnus give it to them? Because the Clave didn't deserve it.

Magnus sat in the open doorway at the front of the Lightwood home, gazing out at the night like he could find the answers to everything in the stars, two days ago, Magnus had been working alone. Now he had somehow gotten himself entangled with Shadowhunters, with the alleged 'enemy'. If these people, these kids, truly were the enemy, why wasn't he dead yet? Surely, if they were the brainwashed soldiers that Downworlder propaganda portrayed them to be then . . . shouldn't he be dead? Not that Magnus was ever swayed by Downworlder propaganda. He believed the Seelie Queen as much as Jace trusted him, which was very little, if at all.

Alec, however, had somehow widdled his way into Magnus' plain of notice. At first, he had struck Magnus as any other Shadowhunter warrior. Too focused on winning than to think about anything else. As the days have passed and they have gotten themselves into more and more situations together, Magnus had grown to realize that not all Shadowhunters were as victory crazed, and some where simply going through the motions to save their families the pain of the consequences. Alec was the oldest in his family, he felt he had a duty to protect his brother and sister at all costs, which meant fighting in the war; killing Downworlders; hiding who he was . . . If anyone was evidence of how fucked up this war was, then Alexander Lightwood was exhibit A.

And yet Magnus couldn't help caring about him deeply.

"Are you okay?"

Magnus glanced over his shoulder, to where Alec stood a couple of metres away. The moonlight that streamed in through the open doorway painted the Shadowhunter with its pale, white glow. "Just couldn't sleep," the warlock assured.

Alec came closer, further revealing himself to the light provided by the moon in the sky. Even in these circumstances, where he had been beaten and drowned and morphed into a hybrid, the eldest Lightwood still managed to look drop dead gorgeous. His pyjamas were the same ones he had been wearing when Magnus had first met him, and were still as revealing as they had been back then. But for once, it wasn't what captured the warlock's attention. It was simply Alec's presence that had Magnus feeling in awe of him.

"I never thought about it before," Alec said, seating himself in the doorway beside Magnus. It wasn't a huge doorway and for both to sit there comfortably, their elbows had to touch. The contact, as mundane as it was, made Magnus shiver. "Do warlocks even sleep?"

The question amused Magnus, since before the war started he spent 85% of his day sleeping. "Yeah, we do," he answered with a smile.

Alec returned the smile, somehow pleased just by the sight of Magnus' tired old grin. He sighed and looked out at the streets before them, amazed by how still and silent Idris became once night had fallen. Like maybe something as incredible as peace had somehow reached them, as impossible as it sounded. Magnus could understand the desire to want to stay in the night forever, because it was the most peaceful place to be.

"Isabelle called Hodge," said Alec. "We head to New York tomorrow."

Magnus nodded. "Sounds like the best place to be right now," he said.

Alec pushed his webbed hand through his hair, his chin finding its way to his knees where it propped itself up comfortably. "I'll file for Duty Leave tomorrow, as well," he said.

"Will they enquire about a partner?" Magnus asked.

Alec shook his head. "That only happens if the Leave is unsuccessful."

Magnus glanced sideways, at Alec's profile. "Do you think a month will be enough time?"

"Who knows?" Alec muttered. "Only time will tell."

There was a heavy sadness to Alec's voice, invisible to the untrained ear. But Magnus had lived too many lives for too many years, and he knew how to recognize the sound of a burden in a person's tone. "You're scared they'll take Max and Isabelle, aren't you?" he asked.

Alec closed his eyes. "I don't want to lose my family," he murmured. "Especially not over such a trivial matter as a successful duty leave."

Magnus tapped his fingers against the floor, fighting to smother his irritation at how unjustified the Clave were. "Clary is with child," the warlock said, causing Alec to reopen his eyes and frown. "If the worst came to the worst, you could pretend that it is yours."

"I would never do that to Jace," Alec said firmly. If he was shocked at Magnus' revelation, he hid it well.

"Jace is a prattling child, at the best of times," said Magnus.

"His intentions are good," Alec replied.

Magnus could make out the slits that sliced through Alec's neck and collarbone, the fact that his shirt was so big revealing the gills to the harsh glare of the night. It wasn't fair that someone so good had to be put through such trials. Magnus wished that Caspian had dragged himself into the water, and not Alec.

"You're staring at me," Alec muttered, his face turning pink. "Am I really that ugly now?"

"You are not ugly," Magnus said firmly.

Alec shook his head with denial. "Average at best, for most of my life. Now? Now I've surpassed the plain of average and into the pits of unattractiveness. Its fine, I understand. I've never believe anyone could ever want me anyhow. Best be me than someone else."

Magnus took one of Alec's hands and held it between them. The Shadowhunter stretched his fingers on reflex, the webs pulling tight as his fingers tried desperately to separate themselves. Speckles of glitter still clung to Alec's pale hands, glittering in the moonlight like miniature diamonds.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Magnus reminded Alec, softly stroking the web between his fore and index finger, showing him that he was not in the least repulsed by them.

"By in who's eye would what I am ever be beheld as beauty?" Alec muttered.

"Oh Alexander, you are a difficult one," Magnus sighed.

Alec's blue eyes skittered away from Magnus', finding the floor with sheepish conviction. "Not worth the trouble," he said.

Magnus brushed his hand along the younger boy's jawline, bringing his face back so their eyes met again. "Always worth the trouble," he corrected. "Your sister, your brother, you friends . . . they all need you to survive. If they didn't, they would not have come looking for you. They would not have fought so hard to find a solution to this problem."

"It would be easier on them if I never existed," Alec denied. "If the Clave . . ." He squeezed his eyes shut, as if it would ward anything away. "If the Clave discover what I am, they'll take my family away from me."

"Not if you train. Not if you prove your worth like Clary"-

"I'm not talking about the fact I'm a hybrid," Alec interrupted. "I'm talking about the fact that they won't waste the manpower, but they would take my brother and sister from me out of fear of my poisoning them. Of making them like me. Of pushing my lifestyle onto them simply to spite the Clave and their values."

Magnus closed his eyes. Of course. If the Clave found out that Alec was gay, Isabelle and Max would be confiscated from his care. "That's not going to happen."

"And how do you know that?" When Alec opened his eyes again, the blue of them pierced through Magnus' soul. "I can't sleep with a woman, Magnus. I cannot have children with a woman. I will not lead a woman on or convince her that what we will have is genuine. I cannot marry a woman, nor can I pretend to love her. I'm sick of pretending. I'm sick of doing this game. It just goes around and around in these endless circles where I lie and cheat and pretend like everything's okay."

"There is nothing wrong with who you are, Alexander," Magnus said.

Alec touched Magnus' hand, the one against his face, and answered, "I know. But when you spend your life pretending, it's hard to think otherwise."

Magnus let go of Alec's hand and cupped the other side of his face, holding the Shadowhunter almost too tight to be comfortable. "When this war ends, there will be no more pretending," he said.

"If this war ends," Alec muttered quietly.

"It will."

"You don't know that."

Magnus shook his head. No, he didn't know that. But whichever way they spun it around, this war was going to end. Whether it be with the victory of the Shadowhunters or the victory of the Downworlders, or the destruction of them both, it was going to end. And hopefully, when it did, people like Alexander Lightwood would not have to pretend anymore.

Magnus closed the space between himself and Alec, his mouth finding the Shadowhunter's in the dark. Alec sat frozen, his lips parted slightly so Magnus' fit against his own perfectly. His eyes fluttered closed and his hand tightened over the warlock's, wishing with everything he had that this was the reality that he could live in. That this was the life he could lead without having to hide or lie or pretend or worry. That he could kiss someone he cared about deeply, like Magnus, and enjoy it too, and not be judged for it.

But this was not a perfect world.

And wishes like that didn't come true.

Alec pulled away, panic flashing across his blue eyes. Magnus could see the fear in Alec's eyes, the fear of the unknown, and before he could even begin to convince him that it was okay, the Shadowhunter was up on his feet and walking away.

"Isabelle always tries to make breakfast before we leave but trust me, you don't want that," Alec rambled as he left, "I'll make some bacon and sausages for us before she wakes up. Join me in the kitchen if you want some."

Magnus sat in the doorway for a while after Alec disappeared into the kitchen. He looked up, to the moon, and wished himself that Alec did not have to fear. With a heavy sigh, Magnus lifted his finger and wrote Alec's name into the sky with his magic, causing the stars to follow the path and arrange themselves to have it written across the night.

Alexander Lightwood.

Magnus let his finger drop and the stars returned to their normal, random arrangement. He heaved himself to his feet with another sigh and went to join Alec in the kitchen. Someday, maybe soon, maybe in ten or fifty years' time, he would be able to write Alexander Lightwood's name into the stars and not have to hide it.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to come out! I'm hoping I won't have to take another hiatus now until Christmas (: