Chapter 11:

He thought he remembered what it felt like to fly…

So the weight he felt now was all the heavier./

The lead that filled his body now dragged him down, making every movement extraordinary in its effort. He frowned in concentration as he focused on making something, anything move. It hadn't been this hard before. Before, he could… He could… His frown deepened as the memory slipped away as quickly as it had arrived.

He slowly gathered his attention, his thoughts feeling as sluggish as wading through the peanut butter that Iz… Iz… wha… His thoughts drifted again for awhile, not really stopping and landing on anyone or anything. There was a light-haired boy and… And fire. Gold and fire. Gold melts in fire. He forgot about the boy as another memory flashed through his scattered, fractured mind. A golden band, with strange symbols on it that gave him a feeling of warmth. Stumbling, he fought to stay on the memory of the band- a ring! He remembered. But with the memory came a feeling. It was heavy and lonely and… Empty… the image of an empty hand, nails painted black, a man's hand. Despite the fractal of memories moving chaotically through his mind, he knew that the ring was supposed to be on that hand. But it was still empty, and he was empty./

He withdrew for a while from the empty, returning to where there was nothing. But soon the nothing wasn't enough anymore.

He decided to start with something smaller. He wanted to see where he was, when he was. But it was so hard. His eyelids refused to rise, or to even flutter- and not for lack of trying. He felt like something was holding them down, or that he was holding himself back. He knew what he wanted to do, but how to get the desire to the action; it was as though his body had forgotten how. Frowning once more, he sent the thought, from his muddled mind to his portals to the outside world, and suddenly, they were open.

Is the world supposed to be this white, he wondered, as he blinked slowly, time and again. But as he continued to stare into the blankness that was the world, he began to make out shapes, textures- variances that suggested a depth to the space that he now knew existed.

His gaze wandered, as far as it could, drinking in everything his vision touched, but understanding very little. After a time, the small piece of his mind that had sorted itself into coherent thought drifted into chaos once again, and his eyes slipped shut, returning him to the darkness.

He knew he was awake again as his eyes flashed open and he was returned to the white space. As his vision cleared for the second time, he remembered what he had been working on before, the last time he had felt light enough. My hand, he thought, I can do this.

Focusing what he could of his still scattered consciousness, he poured all of his attention into the hand that rested beside him. Searching, hoping, to find the connection, he began to sweat (an unpleasant sensation that distracted him momentarily) when the tip of a finger moved, ever so slightly./

YES! He cheered, congratulating himself on the motion. Small though it was, he felt as though Hercules must have when his bow and arrow had cut into the Headless Horseman… He paused for a moment, wincing, as a hundred different stories, a hundred different memories, tried to sort themselves into place, none of them making sense, the language confusing, burning as it pushed into his brain. He squeezed his eye shut, trying to rub out the sharp pain that was growing on the side of his head, when they flew back open. My hand!

In spite of the pain, the memories had triggered something in him, and the digits that he had tried so desperately to move only moments before had somehow moved of their own accord. Trying to replicate the effort, he focused in on a small connection he'd noticed at the back of his mind, a new thread of existence that had formed after the subconscious onslaught. Following the little trail, he reached the mental edge of the line and tugged, feeling a finger move again. Elated, he tugged once more, as hard as he could and felt his whole hand begin to move.

But even as he began to let go, it didn't stop, like it had before. Frightened, he dropped the rope completely, but still his hand shook. Frantic, he retreated, but even as he began to withdraw into the darkness, his safety, something drew his attention. His vision locked ahead on the smudge in the whiteness, and he stared, willing it to come into focus.

It was not an it.

It was a he.

A slender-built man was above him, over him, on the ceiling? The man's eyes searched his own, a light, tentative expression on his face, and he could feel something, a hand? It was gently wrapped around his own, the appendage still shaking, traitor to his own command. The touch drew his gaze down, distracted for a moment by this new ability to sense, but he was quickly returned to the man on the ceiling- He was a cat. He frowned, that's not right. But he couldn't fix it, for he was quicky distracted by the man, who's face was moving. His face was moving, and the lightness that had existed when he'd first floated into his view had been replaced by a dark look, scared. Haunted. His brain helpfully supplied for him.

He tried to mirror the man's earlier expression, he wanted to see it again. The floating man was warm, he made him feel warm, and he wanted the lightness back. But his attempt only brought more darkness to the man's face as it fell even further. The man turned away his face moving more furiously, and something new rang into the picture. Sounds were coming from the floating man- his voice.

His mind was becoming quicker at filling in the gaps, but it was all at once too much and not not enough. Sharp lances of pain shot through his mind, drawing sound out of his own body, and he longed to return to the darkness that teased at the edge of his consciousness. The man-cat had returned his attention to him at the sound of his pain, but even the words he spoke and the grip he kept on his traitor-hand weren't enough. He felt himself slide even further, the world a tilt, and he was ready to fall, when a bolt of fear shot through his left side, as strong as the physical pain in his mind. It was enough, and he slid into the blackness that felt like home./

But as he slid, the sounds congealed into a word. Alec, he thought as he drifted. I like that.

+++++++++++MMMMMMMM+++++++++++++

It had been another long few days that stretched into eternity. The first seizure had developed into many. The first day there were nine- some were small, some- like the first one- happened on a grander scale. But all of them scared Magnus.

Each day there were fewer, but when they'd gathered at the end of the third day, the total had come to sixteen in total, and even Simon had a hard time finding an optimistic angle. Catarina and Isabelle had kept an even closer eye on Alec since the seizures had started, and Magnus while grateful for their help and beyond thankful for their medical know-how, wanted them gone. He wanted everyone gone, except Alec.

When he'd been putting his Alexander together again, he'd learned every nuance of his being and he'd felt a level on intimacy that he'd never known before. But he knew it was one-sided, and he longed to see his soul-match open his eyes, so they could explore this new them, so they could grow into the one that Magnus longed for them to be.

But as the seizures kept happening, Magnus began to doubt that he'd ever find Alexander again. Because the seizures were his fault.

As the first day had bled into the first night, and the last seizure ended, Magnus had been forced out of the room by Clary, who took his place so he could get "fresh air". But even as he left the room, he saw Catarina gently lift off the cannula that had given him so much hope and replace it with an oxygen mask. As Alec's short and shallow breaths began to fog the mask, Cat looked up and caught Magnus staring, his terrified expression matching her own tired visage. She made a few final touches to the archer's lines, before running her hand gently through his curls. She left his side, and taking Magnus by the arm, she led him out to the balcony, gently closing the door behind them.

Sensing his unspoken question, she said "He's okay, Magnus, he's just tired. He's only been at this breathing thing for a little while now, and the seizures have taken a lot out of him. I put the mask on, just to help him get his numbers up a little bit, to help him rest a little easier. But he's fine…"

Magnus hung his head at her words, his emotions mixed. "How can you say he's fine, Cat, look at him. He hasn't woken up, his body is out of control…" He looked up, tears running down his face. "It's all my fault."

Magnus, we've been through this," replied Catarina gently, placing her blue arm around her oldest friends bent shoulders. "You both were lost, and he did what he thought…"

She trailed off as Magnus stood, shrugging off her comfort and her words. "That's not what I meant, Cat, this, the seizures- they're my fault." He took a deep breath, then continued. "When I was putting him back together, that last day, I looked into his center, his core. I know, I know," he held up his hands at her raised brows. "I know that that is sacred to each person, but I couldn't get his permission, and I had to know, I had to figure out where it went. Cat… He is pure light. If anyone ever deserved the name 'Lightwood', it's Alexander. I could literally feel it burning away the darkness in me, my father's touch, my original sin. It was like..." He paused, searching for words. "It was like being surrounded by fire but feeling like you're in the sun on a lazy afternoon. I felt so incredible, I felt so in love with this man that I had to remind him. I took just a sliver of the love I have for him and put it into the final piece, Cat, just a sliver. I couldn't imagine him not knowing, not remembering how I feel. So I put it back, modified, and this is all my fault." He finished lamely. "Why was I so selfish, I should've let him remember on his own, this is all my fault," he repeated. He leaned back down on the balcony rail, head hanging low, defeated, and waiting for the blue warlock's rage.

Instead, she came gently to his side, tucking herself into his side, one dark cerulean arm wrapped around his waist. Magnus tensed for a moment, feeling her touch, but when he didn't feel any anger, he relaxed into the embrace, letting himself relax for a moment./

The two warlocks spent a moment in silence, their mutual grief a comfort to them both, before Catarina spoke. "You want to hear my theory," she asked gently. "Why I think Alec is having these seizures?"

Magnus nodded gently, so she continued. "I think his body is re-mapping itself, neurologically. Magnus, his soul was ripped out, wrenched from his body, leaving his systems in pieces. Yes, you put "Humpty" together again, but Alec's soul still needs to retrace its steps and figure out where the heck it goes. His body is working again, but think of it like someone moving into a new home. The home functions, but it takes awhile to settle in, and there are always headaches and hiccups along the way. These seizures, they're more like headaches than hiccups, but take my word for it, they'll start going away too."

Catarina gently rubber Magnus shoulder for continuing. "So yes, Magnus, what you did was foolish. Trying to change a soul, while putting it back where it belongs- having never tried it before in your extraordinarily long life; that was a foolish thing to do. But after what you've gone through, I don't think any of us would blame you for what you did. And your connection with Alec is as strong as a Parabatai bond, but unique in its own way. I wouldn't be surprised if your little tweak helps Alec return more than it could ever hurt him. But, let's not do that again. In fact," she said laughingly, "let's count this whole experience up to a once-in-a-lifetime thing and never do it again."

Magnus smiled at her final words, and turning, he took his fellow warlock into his arms, and they stayed that way for awhile, taking in the night, before he said quietly, "definitely never doing this again."

Magnus smiled at the memory as he returned to himself,, a few days later and seated at Alexander's bedside. He looked down at the Shadowhunter's tired face and sighed. The oxygen mask had been replaced by the cannula, which had then also been removed as Alec was able to maintain his oxygen, but an NG tube had been added to the Archer's regimen, and Isabelle had taught him, and Jace, how and when to get nourishment into the raven-haired boy's body. He's getting so thin, thought Magnus sadly. Once he's awake, food is going to be a priority, for sure. Once he's awake.

Gently running his hand over Alexander's drawn face one more time, Magnus let his head fall down onto his folded arms as he drifted off to sleep, resting beside the archer's bed, with one hand around the lax one on the bed.

+++11 hours later…+++

Magnus awoke as a faint scrabbling sound entered his consciousness. He started to drift off again, until the noise began again- and didn't stop.

Shit, shit, shit he thought, as he sprang from where he'd fallen asleep. "Jace," he cried as he grabbed ahold of Alec's shaking hand, "Jace, he's having another seizure! JACE!"

The blonde shot up from the messy pile of sleeping bags, but Magnus hardly noticed as his eyes locked onto the most precious view he'd seen in days, weeks even. They were glassy, they weren't tracking very well, but they were hazel and they were open.

Jace stumbled to the edge of the bed, but Magnus held up a hand, forestalling his approach to gently lift up the archer's trembling, shaking hand. Jace caught his gaze and drew in a sharp breath, pressing his hand to his Parabatai rune, hoping to feel his brother's soul. Frowning, he shook his head at Magnus, who returned his attention to Alec.

"Alexander," he questioned, gently moving into the supine archer's sightline. "Alexander, can, can you hear me?" His simple question seemed to have caught the boy's attention, or so he thought, until the hazel eyes drifted back down to where their hands were joined, one stable and one gently shaking. Magnus moved back into Alec's sightline and his gaze followed the motion, but the boy didn't respond to any of Magnus questioning, his eyes glassy as they tried to track the room.

The warlock frowned, his face growing dark at the lack of response and wanting more, when he felt an increase in the pressure on his hand as Alec stared at him. And smiled.

Or at least tried to. But both Magnus and Jace grew more worried as they noticed the ease with which one side of his face responded, and the difficulty the other side seemed to have. Exchanging a quick glance, they both returned their attention to Alec when he let out a soft groan, squeezing his eyes shut again as the tremor in his hand increased.

"Gahhhhhh", groaned Jace, grabbing at his collarbone where his Parabatai rune flashed a brilliant silver before fading to a dull gray. "Alec! Magnus, what's happening?"

Magnus turned to the golden-haired warrior, his attention torn, before quickly returning to his love as Alec let out another groan and sigh, his hand slowly returning to stillness as the archer faded into unconsciousness once again.