Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books. Any recognisable dialogue is from the books or TV show – some lines may be included verbatim, others in an amended form.

Modern, no powers AU. Warnings for brief domestic violence by Mal against Alina. Warnings for emotional cheating by Alina and physical cheating by Mal.

it was a murder but not a crime

It's just another argument, until it isn't.

Until Mal's fist collides with her face.

Until it's all just too much.

Until she accepts that, somewhere along the way, she stopped loving her husband and started hating him.

Alina doesn't remember picking up the kitchen knife, can't ever recall exactly what follows.

But, when she comes back to herself, there is blood everywhere and Mal is on the floor, his chest and arms a mass of stab wounds, his body still.

Alina screams.

She screams and she shouts and she cries.

Not entirely sure if it's from anger or shock or grief or sheer relief.

(she's glad, for once, that they live on this farm Mal insisted on, miles away from any other houses).

Eventually, hoarse and overwrought, she drops the knife into the sink and washes her hands carefully and methodically.

Then, she grabs her phone and calls the one person she trusts to help her.

Aleksander picks up immediately, despite the fact that it is past 11 at night, "Alina, I was just thinking about you. There's a wonderful exhibit on at the Os Alta Museum next weekend that you'll love."

She croaks out his name, her throat raw enough from screaming that she can barely get that one word out.

"Alina, solntse … what's wrong?"

He sounds worried, repeats her name once, twice, three times.

"Mal," she whispers.

"Did he hurt you?" Aleksander's voice has gone eerily cold, the same kind of tone he uses in the courtroom right before he verbally eviscerates his opponents.

"I … I …"

She doesn't know how to say it, can't quite bring herself to speak the words out loud.

"Are you at home?" he asks, "is Malyen there?"

"He's gone," she tells him.

And that's true. His body is still here, but it's cold on the floor, an empty shell.

"I'll be there in an hour," Aleksander promises, "stay there."

The call cuts out before she can remind him that he lives at least an hour and a half away, that she doesn't want him getting into an accident because he's speeding.

There's not much point protesting, though. Aleksander has never had a particular care for speed limits (or laws, or any other obstacles) when it comes to the people he cares about.

She stumbles through the doorway into a different room, slumping down onto her couch, eager to be away from the body and the blood pooling on her kitchen floor.

Her phone starts to ring – Aleksander again – and she manages a hoarse hello.

"I'm on my way," he tells her, all soothing tones now, "will you stay on the phone with me, milaya?"

"Can't … can't talk much," she says, "sore throat."

"That's ok. I just … I just want you to be able to let me know if something happens before I get there."

Alina smiles, in spite of everything, no matter the horror show of the past few hours.

Saints, why couldn't she have met Aleksander earlier. Before she married Mal, before her childhood best friend turned into a man she couldn't stand.

"Will you tell me about the exhibit?" she asks quietly.

So, he does. It is a cartography collection. Maps of Ravka, Shu Han, Fjerda, Kerch, the Wandering Isle, Novyi Zem, the True Sea and even further afield.

"Some of the maps are over five thousand years old," he explains, "it's supposed to be a fantastic exhibition."

Unlike Mal, Aleksander has never teased or judged Alina for her fascination with old maps. It isn't his preferred area of history, but he always listens attentively when she rambles about why she loves it.

"I like watching you talk about maps," he tells her one afternoon, less than a year after she joins his firm, "you light up like the sun. It's beautiful."

He starts calling her solntse not long after. She's never had a nickname she likes more.

Aleksander talks and talks. About the exhibition, the museum in general, their most recent successful case, the new house Genya and David have just purchased, the upcoming event at the Shadow Fold Symphony Hall that he is a patron of.

Saints, she loves his voice. Zoya likes to joke he'd make a fortune as a phone sex-line operator.

(they rehearse their arguments in the mock courtroom their building contains, recording them to look over and tweak. Alina may have a habit of watching some of Aleksander's rehearsals on repeat when she's had particularly difficult week, closing her eyes and just letting his voice wash over her).

She speaks as little as possible, just a word or two every now and then to reassure Aleksander that she's still there.

And then, almost an hour after she'd first called him, he confirms he's turning down the long dirt path that leads to the farm and he'll be there momentarily, ending the call so he can concentrate on getting down the road without his expensive car getting stuck in one of the many potholes littering the route.

Alina nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears the loud knock on her door, even though she's been expecting Aleksander ever since he hung up the phone a few minutes ago.

Her mind still jumps in a dozen different directions, all of them ending in her being taken away in a police car.

Further knocking, more frantic this time, and she knows she can't ignore it, realises she's being ridiculous and of course it is Aleksander.

When she opens the door, he takes one look at her – red eyes, tearstained cheeks, messy hair, bruise blossoming on one side of her face – and growls menacingly, "where is he, I'll kill him."

Too late, Alina thinks, and then bursts into tears.

In between hysterical sobs, she directs him to the kitchen, manages to tell him what happened.

Mal is late back, drunk and smelling of perfume that Alina has never worn.

She knows she's not perfect, knows she's been engaged in what probably amounts to an emotional affair with her boss for almost three years now, but at least she tries to make this work, expends some effort.

She cooks dinner, asks about his day, attempts to find the boy she'd fallen in love with.

All Mal ever seems to have for her is insults, hands gripping her arms too tightly, arguments about using condoms on the increasingly rare occasions they have sex (because he doesn't like the feeling but she's terrified he might have picked something up from one of his dalliances, and the last thing their disaster of a relationship needs is a pregnancy).

Tonight's particular argument is about the farm.

It's Mal's dream, not hers, but he won't put the effort in to make it viable. Alina's wages – good money that could be put to better use – go on covering the losses, the train pass she needs for the long commute to work, the hotels she has to stay at whenever she has to work overtime (Aleksander and Genya and Zoya and Fedyor have all offered their spare rooms, but Mal seems to hate all her work friends, and it's just easier to get a hotel room and avoid the argument).

Alina insists the farm has to be given up. It's a drain they can't afford, an enterprise too big for one man to run, especially since Mal refuses to hire help.

Mal … well, Mal says a lot of things, none of them helpful, many of them rude.

"And then I told him about the promotion," Alina says, "how I need to be closer to work."

She is snuggled into his side on the couch now, relishing in the feeling of comfort and security that she usually lacks at home.

Aleksander's hand cards through her hair, "what did he say?"

"The usual. That I'm sleeping with you and the reason I got promoted was so I'd have to spend more time with you. That I don't support his dream for the farm. That I was being selfish."

"Unbelievable," Aleksander mutters furiously, "you deserve that promotion more than anyone and everyone agrees with me. And he hit you? For what? Doing well at work, wanting to avoid a horrible commute, trying to get him to give up this money pit?"

"He asked straight out if we'd had sex," she tells him tightly, "I said no. Then he called me a lying whore and hit me."

She laughs, the sound bordering on hysterical, "he comes home smelling of cheap perfume, his fly undone, and I'm the whore!"

A sigh, "I just … I lost it. The next thing I remember is looking down and he was there on the floor, about twenty stab wounds in his chest."

Aleksander says nothing, but holds her tighter, lets her burrow even further into his side.

"Sasha," she whispers a minute or two later, "what's going to happen to me?"

"Nothing," he insists fiercely, "nothing is going to happen to you, Alina. I won't let it."

"You're a phenomenal lawyer, Sasha, but I don't think even you can get me out of a jail term here."

He scoffs, "you think we're calling the police? You believe I'm going to let him ruin your life from beyond the grave. Absolutely not."

"But what …?"

He pressed a soft kiss to her hair, "don't worry about anything, Alina. You need a long bath and a good night's rest. I'll take care of everything."

"Sasha," she protests, "I can't let you do that."

She turns to look at him, sees the emotion shining in his eyes, the almost-feral love there.

He dips his head, presses his lips to hers. Gently, at first, and then he lets out an almost-pained groan, deepening this first kiss between them until it is the most frantic, intense thing she has ever experienced.

Saints … she's dreamed over the years … it's better than she ever could have imagined, though.

"Alina," he breathes out when they break apart, "Alina, I love you."

She knows, of course. A thousand little things have told her during the time they've known each other. However, it's always been bittersweet, her trying desperately to make things work with Mal and him leaving the words unsaid.

Now he can finally speak. And so can she.

Her eyes fill with tears, "I love you too. I'm sorry, Sasha, so sorry I didn't walk away from him before this."

For a few minutes they simply cling to each other, enjoying the closeness, the intimacy between them.

"Will you let me, solntse?" he asks, "will you allow me deal with this for you?"

She knows Aleksander has shady connections, had figured it out barely weeks into working for his firm. She also knows he has moral lines he won't cross, certain things he'll never do.

And she can accept all of him because she knows he is a good man.

Knows she loves him.

"Yes," she tells him, leaning up to kiss him again, "yes, I'll let you."

In Aleksander's arms, Alina knows everything will turn out alright.

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.