AN: SURPRISE! The story isn't really over. After some lovely encouragement on the part of my readers and some insistent nagging on the part of the characters, I have decided to undergo the task of making this a multi-part story. Tah dah! So here is part two. And part three is already underway. Not sure how long this fic will end up being, so we'll just have to find out together.
Thank you, Maggie and Rachel, for giving me feedback and correcting my many mistakes. You ladies are awesome!
Compulsory Butterflies: Part II
Alec wakes to the brush of fingertips along his arm. Clary leans over him, a long braid falling over one shoulder. He touches her wrist to let her know he's coherent.
"It's time," she says quietly.
"We're leaving now?"
She nods and then retreats so that he has enough space to push back the covers and swing his legs over the side of the bed. He pauses there, feet on the floor and heart quickening in his chest. This is not a dream, he realizes.
"Here." Clary hands him an unzipped canvas bag. Inside there is Shadowhunter gear, a seraph blade, dagger, witchlight and stele. A matching bag clings to Clary's back, snug against her shoulder blades. "We should hurry. I'm not sure how long the sleeping drought will last."
He doesn't need further prompting. Quickly, he changes out of his sweatpants and into the protective gear. The fit isn't perfect, but it's close enough. Alec knows it must have belonged to Jonathan, but he doesn't have time to linger on the fact. After lacing up the boots, he tosses a change of clothes into the bag as well. Clary is standing at the foot of the bed, clutching her stele in one hand. Her other hand is trembling at her side.
Alec shoulders the bag so he can take her face between his palms. Her skin is warm, and it reminds him of their first time. He was nervous then, too. And just as certain that they were doing the right thing.
"Thank you." He brushes his lips across hers. "Thank you."
\ /
She's a half-step ahead and leading him by the hand through the grass that slopes away from the east wing of the house. Here, in the countryside of Idris, the nights are black as pitch. But Clary has no use for a rune stone. They move from the grass and into the trees, which grow closer and closer together the farther they walk. And then she stops.
She releases his hand and raises her own out in front of her, searching the air. Fingers outstretched, she tentatively begins inching forward into the space between two trees. It's the first time she's actually looked blind.
This is it, he realizes. If the wards aren't actually down…
The memory of the pain after his last failed attempt is nearly as intense as the pain itself.
Clary takes a cautious step forward. Then another. And another. Finally she stops. Her shoulders drop as she turns toward him. "It worked."
She doesn't sound pleased. She doesn't sound disappointed. She sounds lost. This is the farthest she's ever been from home.
Stepping to her side, he reclaims her hand and takes the lead. Together they keep moving east.
\ /
It's stupid. There's no reason to be self-conscious. He's touched her, kissed her, had sex with her—multiple times. So sleeping beside her shouldn't be a big deal, even if it will be the first time. But somehow he's stuck. He stands holding the thinly padded pallet she handed him while she unrolls her own and spreads it across the ground.
There was no gear at the house that would fit her, so she's wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a jacket tied around her hips. She looks different. Or maybe it's just the place. Out here in the wild woods she seems even less like a Morgenstern.
"Is something wrong?" Her hands roam over the sleeping pallet, checking for bumps and creases. He's gotten used to her not looking at him when she speaks.
"No. I'm just tired."
"You should come and lie down. The ground's pretty even."
He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until it leaves him in a rush. She's silent as he lays his bedding out next to hers. As soon as he's on his back, she crawls over and stretches out beside him, an arm tucked around his waist.
It is only then, in the silence that follows, that Alec thinks of the house they left half-empty. They've been gone a day, and by now Valentine has likely been informed of their escape. Alec thinks of the wards that had been in place long before he ever arrived and the meaning of a father's constant absence.
Sleep doesn't come easily, but it comes.
\ /
"And you're sure this is all there was?"
"I think so."
"You think?"
"I grabbed whatever I could get my hands on. But it's all paper to me. I couldn't tell which were maps, receipts, or just notes. Anyway, I doubt my father leaves important things lying around his study—even if he doesn't think I can get inside."
"And there was nothing else?"
"I don't know, Alec. I told you; I took whatever I came across, and I tried to search the entire place. But I can't promise there wasn't something that I missed."
"You should have had me help you."
"We were sort of pressed for time. The wards—"
"There could have been something important. Battle plans, rosters, something indicating where they keep prisoners like my brother."
"That's why I took all of these!"
"You should have told me Valentine kept things in the house! We could have searched it sooner; we could have found something useful. None of this is going to help us."
"I didn't think—"
"Of course you didn't! You don't understand how serious any of this is! My family's lives are at stake, and I'm not going to lose them. This is all just your big chance to get out, but for everyone else it's about fighting for something we—what are you doing?"
Clary pulls her arms through the straps of her backpack and lets it drop to the ground with a heavy thud. One hand stretched out in front of her and the other maneuvering her cane, she begins to walk away.
Alec grits his teeth. "Where are you going? We need to keep moving before it gets dark."
"I don't feel like holding your hand right now."
\ /
Evening begins to creep in. Alec is caught looking back and forth between the bruising sky and the trees Clary disappeared through more than an hour ago. He has felt uneasy ever since losing sight of her, and now he is beyond restless. Soon it will be too dark to go looking for her. But if he moves from where she left him, he'll be sabotaging her only point of reference for when she retraces her steps.
It's best to stay put.
\ /
After another 20 minutes of waiting and mindlessly digging at the dirt with his stele, he hears the unmistakable sound of something moving through the nearby foliage. He jumps to his feet and has a dagger drawn just before catching sight of red, curling hair.
As she approaches, he looks for injuries and finds nothing out of place save for the puffiness around her eyes. She's been crying.
Alec experiences the stirrings of self-loathing.
"I'm ready to go now." She kneels beside her pack, opens it to slide her collapsed cane inside. Shouldering the bag, she stands and awaits instruction. He doesn't like how she expects him to make the decisions, like he's in charge. It's not the case.
"I'm sorry." He's not used to apologizing to someone who isn't family. Blood always forgives. And now he's nervous of Clary's response. "I shouldn't have gotten upset with you. It isn't your fault; it's just…how things are, and I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"I don't know what I'm doing."
Her words sound like permission, so he closes the space between them. "Neither do I." He slides his fingers beneath the straps of her backpack and feels the heat coming through her thin shirt. A tug sends her body forward into his. She doesn't push away. "We'll figure it out though. Soon."
She nods, her nose bumping against his chest. "I know."
With what little light they have left, Alec splays out the map of Idris that was tucked in the shuffle of papers. He calculates a rough estimate of their location and marks a few points he considers probable locations for holding prisoners.
\ /
Maybe it's because she can't see or maybe it's because she's her, but either way, Clary's shameless about being naked.
It's something he first noticed that hot day she took him outside the manor for the first time. She had stood and stripped down to her underwear right in front of him as if were nothing. Because she wanted to go for a swim.
Now she's stripping again. Only this time, her underwear and bra joins the careful pile of clothes on the river bank.
They were relieved to find the Able. It's the largest river in Idris and runs roughly north-south through the eastern third of the country. Alec is glad to have found a recognizable landmark and Clary is glad to have a place to bathe after three days on the move.
One hand on a rock face that cuts into the water, she wades out into the river until she is waist-deep. Then she ducks under the surface and emerges just a few feet to the right, dark hair plastered to her head and back. Her smile is the first one he's seen since they left.
His clothes join hers on the ground. It doesn't take long to make his way out to her. As soon as he's within reach, she takes his arms and leads him deeper until the water is lapping at undersides of her breasts.
"Clear," she says, cupping water in her palm and then spilling it over his shoulder.
"Not really."
"No?"
"More of a murky green."
"Hmmm."
He lowers his head and tastes her wet collarbone, kisses the smattering of freckles across her shoulder. There's a mark on her neck—one of his—and the fading bruise is sensitive. A caress from his lips causes her to shudder.
He guides her backward through the water with ease. When her body is trapped between him and the rock face, she raises her face to finally accept his kiss. The hand not curled around his bicep trails over his chest and down his abdomen, disappearing beneath the water. His breath catches as she strokes him.
In one fluid motion, he has her halfway out of the water, her legs thrown around his hips and her back braced against the bleached rock as he pushes inside of her. They've gotten better at this. It doesn't take long to find a satisfying rhythm, even with Clary's lips against his jaw, distracting him and driving him crazy.
Beads of water drip down her neck, and he catches them with his tongue as they land on her chest. She shivers and gasps. Shifting together, they negotiate a new angle that takes him deeper.
The sun beats down on his back. It bathes Clary's face, painting her eyelashes, her cheek, her open mouth, the small scar above her left temple. Her eyes are shut against it.
There's a familiar tightening of his muscles. "Clary, I'm…" He groans, half in want and half in frustration, as he begins to pull away. But her hands clutch adamantly at his waist, keeping him inside as she continues to rock and buck against him.
"I want to feel you."
"We can't. We—"
"I'm so close. God... can you feel it?"
"Fuck. Yes. But it—"The hot press of her body starts to become desperate, and he doesn't care about anything else. One hand tightens around her wet thigh, and the other slides to where their bodies are joined, seeking her beneath the water.
Blunt fingernails bite into his shoulders as she cries out. She arcs off the rock, taut and trembling. He lowers his head to her shoulder and finally finds his own release, coming inside her for the first time since their first time.
When they've stilled and the water has stilled, he turns his lips to her ear and wonders, "What color was that?"
She shivers. "Not murky green."
\ /
The woods of Idris are a far cry from the skyscrapers of New York. The trees are never-ending, the bugs are inescapable, and the quiet is unsettling. And everything is green. Or brown. Or a varying shade of green or brown. Alec's sick of it.
Five days. They've been on the move for five days, and they haven't encountered a single living soul. They're short on food and patience, and they're no closer to finding…well, anything. He's beginning to suspect that they've fallen prey to misdirection wards on more than one occasion.
"Listen." Clary's hand grips his arm as they stop.
At first he hears nothing but their own breathing. Then, faintly, the sound of a horse's stride. Two horses.
"Stay here."
"Alec!"
He moves quickly in the direction of the noise. Up ahead there is a ridge just before the ground slopes down at a gentle slant. He hides behind a tree while staring down into the shallow ravine. It's not long before two horses come into view, their riders dressed in black Shadowhunter gear. Alec's heart quickens in his chest, but when he catches sight of the third figure on of the horses was bearing, it stops completely, slamming against his ribcage. He knows that unruly black hair, that small, limp frame, those crooked glasses.
Max.
"What is it?"
Clary is at his side, but he's stuck gaping at the riders as they pass beneath them, ignorant of being watched. "That's my brother. They have my brother."
"Jace?" she whispers.
"Max."
"Do you know them?"
"No. And his hands are bound."
"How many are there?"
"Two."
"Okay, well I'll distract them, and you do something involving weapons."
"What—"
She takes off, half-running, half-sliding down the hill. As soon as she hits even ground, she begins waving her arms and jumping up and down. "Help! Please, help me!"
Taken by surprise, Alec barely has the good sense to duck behind the tree again before he's spotted. One of the riders, the woman, shouts something, and both horses come to a stop. Clary keeps yelling something about being kidnapped and the Clave, and Alec risks a look over his shoulder to see that the man and the woman are cautiously making their way back in her direction. Max is slumped back against the male hunter, unconscious.
He removes the dagger from his belt and fingers the blade. Eyes closed, he listens in on the exchange. Clary says that she's Valentine's daughter, that she was taken against her will, and that she has just managed to escape her captor.
"I knocked him unconscious and ran."
"Where did you leave him?"
"Back that way."
Alec steps out from his hiding place, takes in the sight of the hunters both turning to look in the opposite direction, and lets the dagger fly. It embeds itself in the woman's thigh. Her cry of pain echoes amongst the trees.
\ /
His seraph blade cuts through gear and flesh, and before the man has a chance to recover from the blow, Alec brings the hilt of the sword down on his temple. He crumbles to the ground with a groan.
The woman remains atop her horse, clutching the seeping wound on her leg. She looks from Alec to Clary, who holds the reigns of the horse bearing Max.
"Girl," she hisses, "get on and keep riding."
Clary leads the horse closer to Alec.
The woman's eyes narrow. Her humorless laugh is muffled beneath a grunt of pain. "I see."
"Leave or get down and fight me." Alec advances toward her with his seraph blade raised.
This time, the woman casts a glance at her incapacitated companion before glaring at Alec. "You won't get far."
She digs her heels into the horse's sides and they shoot off in the direction they were heading in before.
Alec lowers his weapon and sighs in relief.
\ /
"Is he alright?"
"He'll be fine. They knocked him out with a Mark. It should wear off soon anyway, but I can just…" She traces an awareness rune on the inside of Max's arm.
Alec holds his breath until Max's eyes flutter and then slowly open. He squints up at Clary.
"Who are you?"
"My name's Clary."
"Where are—Alec!"
Max launches himself at Alec, and the collision is almost enough to knock them both over. Alec hugs his brother and thanks the Angel for allowing them to meet again. "I was worried about you. What are you doing out here?"
"I don't know. They came this morning. They said you did something and that I had to come with them." Max pulls back. "What did you do?"
\ /
Alicante is overrun by demons. It has been for months. Valentine disabled the towers a month before Alec and Max's capture, and Alec can only assume that since then the Clave has regrouped and established a counter-attack. And as long as Valentine doesn't possess the Mortal Cup or the Mortal Mirror, there's still a chance. A good chance.
The three of them need to find their allies.
"Max, did you ever hear the guards or any of the other prisoners mention where Shadowhunters are stationed in Idris? The ones who haven't joined Valentine?"
Max's face pinches with concentration. "No. No one ever said anything like that."
"But there are other good guys here somewhere, right? Some of the newer prisoners who were caught in Idris?"
"I think so." Max sighs. "Can't we go find Mom and Dad? I want to see them. And Izzy and Jace."
"I do, too, but we don't know where they are right now."
Shoulders slumped, Max frowns down at the red pendant hanging from around his neck, twisting the gem between his fingers.
"You still have Isabelle's necklace."
"That belongs to your sister?" Clary pauses in her task of rifling through the horse's saddle bag. "How long have you had it?"
Max shrugs. "She gave it to me months ago. To help keep me safe."
"Did she wear it a lot?"
"All the time."
She reaches into her pocket and withdraws her stele. "Then this might work."
\ /
They can't all fit on the horse, and keeping him will only make them more conspicuous and easier to track. So they send him off in the opposite direction. Max becomes their compass, a tracking rune on the back of his left hand and Isabelle's necklace clutched in his fist. Alec and Clary follow a couple of paces behind.
"It's how I would find Jonathan or my father on the estate." She speaks quietly so as to not break Max's concentration. "When they were home, I would keep something of theirs in my pocket. All I had to do was use the rune and focus. The more personal the item, the better."
"What other Marks did you use?"
"Whatever made life easier; heating runes in Winter, cooling runes in Summer, iratzes for skinned knees."
"Did you ever try finding a rune that would give you your sight?"
She's quiet for several moments. Alec looks over and tries to gauge the expression on her face. He can't.
"I did. For a while. My father was determined to cure me once he realized what I could do. Nothing ever worked though."
"Did you want to see?"
"I wanted to make my father happy."
\ /
They find a rock overhang that should provide them with enough shelter for the night. It's getting too dark to keep moving. Max half-jumps, half-slides down the overhang and lands unsteadily on his feet. Alec easily follows after him and then turns back to help Clary, who's sitting on the ledge, arms already outstretched. He lifts her, and she wraps her legs around his hips before he can set her down again.
"Thank you," she says and kisses him sweetly.
He squeezes her sides.
"Is she your girlfriend?"
Clary drops to her feet, and Alec turns to find Max watching them, head cocked to one side. Alec feels his face heat. "I…yeah. She is."
Max grins. "Do Mom and Dad know you have a girlfriend?"
"No. Remember, I haven't seen them in a while."
"I think they'll like her." Max switches his attention to Clary. "Jace will, too. He likes girls who're pretty."
\ /
They forgo building a fire. Not only would it draw unwanted attention, but it's a hot evening, and they don't have food to cook anyway. Alec divides up the dried meat Clary salvaged from the saddlebag while Max shoots off question after question.
"You were born in Idris like Alec was?"
"That's right."
"But you've never left before?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"My father didn't like the idea of me traveling."
"Why not?"
"He was just protective, I guess."
"Because you're blind?"
Alec sighs and tosses his brother a ration. "Next question, Max."
He takes a moment to consider and then visibly perks up. "So if you can make new runes, does that mean you can draw a rune that would make me fly?"
Clary shrugs as she finishes untying her hair from its braid. "I don't know. I haven't tried. I prefer having my feet firmly on the ground. Less of a chance that I'll get caught up in some tree."
"I'm good at climbing trees." Max takes a bite of his jerky. "There's this really big one back home, and I can get to the very top. I'll show you some day." He pauses mid-chew and frowns. "Well, you won't actually see me climb it, but I'll shout down at you from the top so you know I made it."
Clary smiles as Alec finally takes a seat on the ground beside her. "I'd like that."
\ /
After a five minute argument about who's going to sleep without a cot—Alec, Clary, and Max all vying for the honor—Clary huffs and rolls both pallets out side-by-side so they form one larger bed.
"We'll squeeze," she says. "All of us."
Max innocently suggests that Clary sleeps in the middle. "Because it's safer if we get attacked by wolves or something."
Alec rolls his eyes and Clary barely stifles a grin. His brother is only ten, Alec reminds himself. "That's okay. I'll sleep in the middle."
Max looks a little disappointed.
\ /
The sun is high in the sky when Max suddenly stops walking. He looks down at the rune on his hand and then turns to Clary, perplexed. "It stopped working. I don't feel anything."
"Then she must be here somewhere. What do you see?"
"Trees," Alec mutters.
Clary shoots an annoyed look in his direction. "Anything else?"
"Stone." He kicks at the stunted rock formation. If it weren't for Clary's hand in his, he would probably collapse on top of it and refuse to get up.
"There must be a glamour or—"
"What?"
Clary has gone still. Her brow furrows in concentration. "We're not alone. There are other Nephilim here. I feel their Marks…"
The tree branches shake as four black-clad figures drop fluidly and silently to the ground.
\ /
"There are so many people," Clary murmurs. "How do you keep track of them all?"
He squeezes her hand. "You'll get used to it. And not everyone will be important to you."
They've just emerged from a narrow tunnel into an open courtyard. The afternoon sun is staved off by the tall ravine walls that climb steeply into towering hills. The sky, choked with clouds, has an ethereal effect on the stone fortress looming ahead of them. Amidst the striking natural surroundings, the medieval fort looks crude and painfully man-made. The courtyard is bustling with activity. People, wagons, crates, and livestock. If it weren't for the modern clothing everyone was wearing, Alec would have suspected he'd just stepped back through time.
When Isabelle says his name, he still can't quite believe she's actually here.
"So this is it." She shrugs. "Home sweet place-with-shitty-plumbing-and-no-electricity. I guess we should just be grateful no one's tried to burn it down or ransack it with a demon horde."
"Valentine doesn't know we've set up base camp here?"
When Isabelle tosses her hair, Alec notices a new scar running from her left cheek down to her neck. It makes her look older. "He's clueless. Every once in a while we'll find an oath traitor wandering around near one of the hidden entrances, but they either leave or we take them out. It's a good thing you guys were so noisy. We mistook you for a herd of elephants instead of a team of infiltrators."
"What are oath traitors?"
Isabelle looks to Clary as if noticing her for the first time—even though Alec introduced them ten minutes ago in the woods. "Nephilim who betrayed the Clave to join Valentine. Cowards. Men and women too weak to stand against the ragings of a psychopathic murderer."
Well, the introductions hadn't been very thorough. First names only.
\ /
It isn't long before news of their arrival spreads. Alec hasn't taken two steps through the door when he's grabbed roughly and hauled into his mother's arms. She says something against his shoulder before releasing him and taking up Max.
Alec doesn't realize how much he has missed his mother until he finally sees her.
She pulls back, and her gaze inevitably flickers to Clary. "Who's this?"
"This is Clary," Max answers quickly. "She's Alec's girlfriend, and she's awesome."
"Oh." Maryse is startled but offers her hand. "It's…nice to meet you."
Before Alec can move, Max has jumped over to Clary's side. He takes her hand and guides it toward Maryse's. "She can't see, Mom."
Clary grins. "Thanks, Max." She shakes his mother's hand. "It's nice to meet you, too."
\ /
The original foundation and outer walls of the fort date back to the time of the Crusades. A small but wealthy group of Shadowhunters sympathetic to the Christians' cause built the stronghold in Idris as a refuge for those soldiers traveling to Jerusalem. When the Clave learned of its existence, they punished the Nephilim who had broken the Law by allowing Mundanes to pass into their country's borders. They confiscated the fort and turned it into a safe house, should Idris ever suffer invasion.
From the look of the interior, it hasn't been renovated for at least 50 years. The stairs and halls are narrow and winding, linking a labyrinth of rooms that have been converted into sleeping quarters and other amenities necessary for housing some 75 Nephilim.
Maryse leads Alec to a bedroom on the second floor. The light walls and sparse furnishings remind him of home.
"You'll find clean clothes in the dresser. We don't have spare gear so you'll have to make-do with the set you're wearing until the next shipment arrives. If you need anything else, the storeroom is downstairs, next to the kitchens."
"Where's Clary?"
"I put her in a room down the hall. Next to Isabelle."
"It'll be easier if she just stays in here with me."
Maryse falters while closing one of the drawers. She looks at the single bed and then at Alec. "How old is she?"
"Seventeen." Barely.
"Just because her parents aren't—"
"Her parents are a comatose woman she's never met and a man who's too busy planning the destruction of his own race to pay any attention to the daughter he's imprisoned."
Maryse frowns but doesn't disagree. Not that she could.
"I just don't think it would be appropriate for you to share a room with a young girl who is now under the guardianship of the Clave."
"Mom." Alec has to look down to meet her eyes. "She'll be in here whether it's her room or not. But it will be easier if she has changes of clothes and, you know, stuff for her hair. We sort of have a routine."
Alec does not understand the expression that crosses his mother's face. Almost like surprise. Or realization. Maybe even disbelief. Something that he can't recognize because he has never experienced it himself. What he does understand is the sigh that comes afterward.
"And you're"—Maryse hesitates—"being careful?"
By the Angel.
"Yes," Alec says. "As careful as we can be." He won't give his mother a rundown of that.
\ /
Alec likes his room better once Clary is sitting cross-legged on their bed, hands twisting the end of her braid.
"I like your mom."
"Did she say something to you?"
"No."
Alec sprawls out beside her on top of the covers. She immediately begins combing her fingers through his hair. "And Isabelle?"
"She loves you. A lot."
"And?"
"And what else is there?"
\ /
"And you remember nothing of your journey from the prison to the house?"
"No. They knocked me out. The same way they knocked out my brother."
"By your estimate, you were at Valentine's home for nearly three months. And yet you never saw Valentine himself. Even though you had unrestricted access to most of the premises."
"Is that a question?"
"Do you find it unusual that you never saw him once during your captivity?"
"Not really. Clary said that—"
"What do you think Miss Morgenstern's motives are?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why do you think she befriended you and then helped you escape?"
"Because she started to realize the truth. She knows that what Valentine is doing is wrong. And only the Clave can protect her from him."
"You think Valentine wants to hurt his daughter?"
"I think he will once he realizes she's switched loyalties."
"We're done for the day, Mr. Lightwood."
\ /
Alec waits for an hour outside the room where Clary is undergoing questioning. When the door opens, she steps into the hallway, looking angry and disoriented. Alec takes her hand.
"How did it go?"
"I kicked her in the shins."
"On purpose?"
"Not as far as she knows."
"It's their job to be difficult. That's how they figure out whether or not we're lying."
"Innocent until someone can invent evidence that makes you guilty," she quotes as they start down the hall. "My father told me that about the Clave."
"He's wrong. The Clave is fair. At least, they try to be. It's harder now when they're worried about spies."
"And are you worried I might be a spy?"
Alec stops walking, catching Clary off guard. She stumbles into his side.
"I want this to be the only time we have to talk about this."
"Okay."
"Are you a spy?"
"No."
"Good. Neither am I. Do you want to eat some dinner now or wait until later when my mom might be willing to cook?"
\ /
Alec watches his mother at the stove. Really watches her. He's gotten good at reading hands, and hers are hesitant and white-knuckled.
He's not surprised when she says she needs to speak with him. Alone.
\ /
He bruises easily. He has since he was a child. Before he was old enough to receive iratzes, his mother would put bandages over his bruises the same way she did for his cuts and scrapes. He hadn't known any better. He only cared that when the bandages came off, the bruises were gone, the skin as good as new.
No hurt ever lasts longer than the touch of bandage or a stele. That's the sort of simplicity that permeates a Shadowhunter's life.
Or, at least, it used to.
"Isabelle told me about your father." Clary's arms wrap around him from behind. Her chin dug into his bare shoulder. "Can I do anything for you?"
"He's been dead for five months. It's been seven months since the last time I saw him."
Her hands slide down his chest, inadvertently caressing the angry welt from his impromptu training session. He flinches.
"Do you need a healing rune?"
He laces his fingers through hers and inhales in the scent of her new shampoo. "I'm out of shape. My reaction time is off."
"Then you'll have to practice."
They sit in silence on the courtyard floor, and even though Clary's crouched position must be uncomfortable, she doesn't move. Other Nephilim pass by. Alec doesn't see them.
"He's dead. He's…gone. And Jace is missing."
"We'll find him," she promises.
\ /
He slips easily back into the routine from his training days in New York. Early mornings, light breakfasts, and long hours practicing in the courtyard or the converted gym. Afternoon intelligence meetings have replaced the study sessions, as scouts and ambassadors report back to the Nephilim's new unofficial headquarters. Dinner is still at seven.
The biggest difference is that he doesn't get as much sleep.
\ /
"This is a condom?"
"Yes."
"It's not what I expected."
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't know. I never really thought about it. How does it go on?"
"Here. Give it to me."
"Huh. It feels…strange. Does it feel strange to you?"
"Clary…"
"I'll take that as a 'no.' Hey! What are you—oh. Oh. Mmmm."
"Still think it feels strange?"
"No. Yes. I mean…please, don't stop."
\ /
Two hundred and sixty seven. That's how many people are living at the fortress on a permanent or semi-permanent basis. More come every week. Refugees from places around the world—survivors from the Institutes targeted by Valentine in addition to hunters who have come to help the cause. Forty-two of the two hundred and sixty seven are orphans under the age of 18.
Alec recognizes them all by sight. Their searching eyes, their aimless walk, their family ring hanging on a chain. It gives them away.
\ /
"I feel useless. All I can do is hold crying babies. And the babies don't even like me."
"That's not true." Alec remembers seeing her with them the day before. They like to touch her hair.
"But it's not even that helpful. Isabelle does local patrols. Your mom practically runs the place. You're training to get back into fighting condition. And even Max is helping out in the kitchens. I'm just sitting around collecting dust."
He pushes her wet hair back over one shoulder. "Switch with me."
They shift, and she steps past him into the spray of the shower. Alec grabs their body wash.
"You should ask my mom if you can get involved with coordinating the offensive. They've decided to put a new task force together. Things have been moving too slowly."
Clary finishes rinsing the conditioner from her hair. "The Inquisitor won't let me do anything like that. I've told him everything I know about my father, and he still treats me like I plan to set this place on fire."
Brushing aside her extended hand, he reaches for her waist and pulls her toward him. "The Inquisitor doesn't get the final say in everything," he says and draws the washcloth down her spine. "You just have to show them you can be useful."
"That easy, huh?"
"For you? Yes." As he washes the apex of her thighs, she leans into him—her belly against his hips and her breasts pressed to his chest. Slowly, she lowers herself to her knees.
"Can I show you something first?"
\ /
"What's going on?"
Isabelle doesn't look up from her bowl of cereal. "We're eating breakfast."
"Right."
Clary smiles into her orange juice and pats the spot on the bench beside her. Alec sits and says near her ear, "Why are you and my sister eating breakfast together?"
"Isabelle is going to take me shopping."
"Where?"
"The storeroom." She offers Alec one of her toast slices, which he absently accepts.
"I don't understand."
Isabelle pushes away her empty bowl. "My friend down in inventory told me that a new shipment came in last night and that it contains certain luxuries like new clothes and body lotion that doesn't leave your skin feeling like bacon grease. My friend has also agreed to let Clary and I have first choice."
"Your friend?"
"I would invite you to join us, but you're the reason I need to stage an intervention in the first place."
Alec frowns. "Me?"
"Yes." She points an accusing finger at him. "The days of you dressing Clary are over. Just because you don't mind looking like someone who fell out of a Sears catalogue from the late 80s, doesn't mean that Clary should have to endure the same fashion handicap. I'm stepping in to take over her wardrobe."
"She looks fine." Alec turns to Clary. "You look fine. More than fine."
Isabelle snorts. "This coming from the guy in a wrinkled gray t-shirt."
Clary shrugs but looks amused by the accusation. Pressing a fleeting kiss to Alec's cheek, she gets to her feet. "I'll take the dishes."
\ /
As soon as Clary is in the kitchen, Alec leans across the table toward his sister. "What are you doing?"
"I told you. We're going to go pick out clothes. If you're lucky, I'll send her back with something you can thank me for later."
He shakes his head. "Why are you helping her? You haven't done a single nice thing for her since we got here."
"I'm in a good mood."
"Isabelle."
"Fine." She crosses her arms. "I'm bored, okay? There aren't enough guys my age, and the girls are all stuck on themselves. Besides, everyone's too busy to hang out anyway."
"So…Clary is just your last resort?"
Shrugging, she looks away. "Yeah, well, she's not that bad. She doesn't talk until my ears fall off, and she's not as self-important as I first pegged her. Plus, she hasn't killed you in your sleep yet. We both know she's had plenty of opportunities."
"Very heartwarming."
"Hey." She flicks a breadcrumb at him. "I'm trying, okay? You've been smiling a lot lately and getting laid can't be the only reason."
Alec snorts but chooses—wisely, he thinks—not to comment.
"Wow." Her eyebrow quirks. "No blush. So you haven't just been playing king of the hill every night like Max suspects."
\ /
When Alec arrives in the council room, he's surprised to spot Clary's unmistakable red hair amongst the senior Clave members. As soon as he enters, she turns to him. Even from across the room she recognizes the presence of his runes.
"What is Mr. Lightwood doing here?" Inquisitor Hrosmund growled. He's a brawny man just over five feet tall. If the scar running the length of his face doesn't intimidate most people, then his perpetual scowl is usually enough to set them on edge.
Maryse steps forward. "I've reassigned him to the counteroffensive task force. He should be present for this. Shall we sit?"
There's some grumbling and gruff words, but people begin taking their seats. Clary makes her way toward Alec, and he pulls out chairs for the both of them. They don't get a chance to speak before Inquisitor Hrosmund calls the room to order.
"We've received correspondence from Valentine. His son Jonathan passed on a message to one of our fighters in the field. The letter was shoved inside her chest cavity."
Clary starts at her brother's name.
"He's proposed a prisoner exchange."
One of the men scoffs. "He's never been willing to do one before."
"Yes, but now we have his daughter."
Clary frowns. "I'm not a prisoner."
"According to Valentine, you are. And if we return you to him, then he's willing to release a dozen of our fighters from his holding cells."
"No."
Everyone turns to regard Alec. Clary's hand is on his arm. She speaks softly. "Alec, Jace could be—"
"No." He shakes her off. "Valentine's not a fool. He knows where your loyalties lie now, and he knows what you can do. He would rather see you dead than fighting for us."
"He wouldn't. He would never hurt me like that. You don't know him."
"And you do?"
Her face pinches. The tick of her jaw tells him not to go any further, so he shuts his mouth around the words, He's lied to you your entire life.
"It doesn't matter." Maryse sounds tired. "Clary knows too much about our operation. And even if we set up new misdirection wards, there would be nothing to keep her from finding us again the same way she did the first time—of her own volition or otherwise. Turning her over to Valentine would be too great a risk."
"Maryse is correct." The Inquisitor tapped his fingers impatiently against the tabletop. Unfortunately. It would be in our best interest for the girl to remain in our…custody."
"My name is 'Clary.'"
Inquisitor Hrosmund purses his lips. "Miss Morgenstern. Perhaps it's time that you show us just what it is about you that Valentine finds so irreplaceable."
\ /
It's the dead of night when the fire message arrives. Valentine's forces have attacked the Sao Paulo Institute—a place the Nephilim have been using as a makeshift hospital for their critically injured.
As options are considered, discussion quickly turns to argument, and argument devolves into shouting. Half the fortress is awakened in a state of alarm, and no one seems capable of achieving consensus.
"The closest reinforcements are in Rio de Janeiro."
"Only a skeleton team."
"Do we know a warlock in the area?"
"A warlock?"
"We don't have time for bigotry, Greenfield."
"Why don't we—"
"You'd put their lives in the hands of some Downworlder For Hire?"
"Send a message back. Tell them—"
"We can't just sit here!"
Alec stands in the corridor, clutching Clary's hand amidst the glow of half-a-dozen swerving witchlights and twice as many restless bodies. He smells blood, but it's only his imagination—only his body preparing for a fight he can't be a part of. He focuses on his mother's solemn face and tries to breathe slowly.
Clary's blunt fingernails dig into his forearm. "They have to do something."
"Yeah, but—"
"Those people could be dying." And then she is gone from his side.
Stele in hand, Clary stumbles toward the nearest wall. Alec cranes his neck and watches as adamas is pressed to stone. Thick, black lines appear in the stele's wake. She moves methodically, not hesitating until a complete rune is before her, stark and unrecognizable. The wall fades beneath a pinprick of light that expands into the churning luminescence of a portal.
The room has gone silent.
\ /
"How is he doing?"
Clary withdraws the damp cloth, replacing it in the bowl beside the bed. Gently, she runs a hand over the sleeping boy's forehead. "His fever is gone, but he won't wake up. We've tried everything."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Sybil says there's a warlock coming to heal anyone beyond our help. He's supposed to arrive tomorrow morning with a group of returning hunters."
Alec takes in the sight of beds crammed wall-to-wall in the infirmary, each occupied by someone recovered from Sao Paulo. Although the number of casualties is unforgivable, it could have been worse—much worse.
"His parents died in the night," Clary whispers. "Maybe it's better that he's asleep."
"No." Alec pulls the blanket up to the boy's chin. "No, it isn't."
\ /
When Alec hears raised voices coming from his room and echoing down the hall, he picks up his pace. The door is wide open, and the first thing Alec's stunned mind takes in is Jace standing just a few feet in front of him—standing, and alive, and seemingly not maimed in any serious way. The second thing Alec notices is Clary sitting on the bed with the sheet twisted up around her. She looks harassed, and Alec can guess that his parabatai has already offended her in some way.
"Jace."
He turns around, and Alec is face-to-face with Jace for the first time in six months. Nothing could be more reassuring in that moment than the familiar quirking of Jace's eyebrow and the imperious tone with which he says, "Alec, did you know there's a naked girl in your bed?"
He has noticed that. And now he moves to position himself directly in front of Jace, blocking Clary's state of undress. "Yes. I know."
"Why is there a naked girl in your bed?"
Behind him, Clary sighs. "Oh dear. That really is a conversation you should probably have with your mother. I'm sure Maryse can find some books with some very helpful diagrams."
Alec snorts and Jace's wide eyes whip to him, bright with disbelief and indignity. "That was not funny. And she's not…you're not…she's…"
Jace is completely baffled, an occurrence rare enough to garner Alec's amusement and a strange sense of pride. But then he really thinks about it, and Alec realizes that there isn't anything particularly funny about this situation. In fact, the more he thinks, the more anxious he begins to feel.
"You're not with her," Jace manages finally.
This time Clary's voice is quiet. "Maybe I should go."
"No," Alec says quickly. "Jace and I will leave. We've got a lot to talk about." He looks pointedly at his parabatai.
Jace's mouth snaps closed. "Yeah. I guess we do."
\ /
"But you're out. You don't need her anymore."
"I wasn't using her to escape."
Jace crosses his arms. "I don't understand."
Alec sighs. "I like her, Jace. A lot. And we're together."
"You can't be serious."
Alec expected this conversation to be difficult, so he's not deterred by Jace's antagonism. Actually, Alec is relieved. They're standing together in the kitchen's washroom, and although this is the closest he's been to Jace in months, he experiences no heart-racing uncertainty. No suppressed anticipation. No clammy hands. He's glad Jace is here and that he's safe, but beyond that…
Alec doesn't feel like he has to hide something more.
"You don't like her?"
"It's not about liking her," Jace retorted. "I'm sure she has many winning qualities if you let her lie around naked in your bed all day. But you can't trust her."
"Oh, really?"
"She's Valentine's daughter. He raised her, taught her. You really think her loyalty is to you?"
"That's kind of ironic considering that just last year people were wondering the same thing about you."
Jace is silent.
"Look. I'm not asking you to trust her. I'm asking you to trust me. So, can you please just…do that?"
He doesn't seem pleased by the prospect, but Alec can tell he has relented the moment he shakes his head and moves on to the subject his recent whereabouts.
\ /
"I didn't really offend him, did I?" Clary asks when he returns to their room.
"Hm?"
"With the sex comment. I didn't actually take him for a virgin. Not after what he said when he first barged in here."
"No, he wasn't offended." Alec doesn't think he wants to know what Jace said. "And he's definitely not a virgin. He always has girls throwing themselves at him."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do girls throw themselves at him?"
"Because he's"—Alec flushes—"attractive. I guess."
Clary makes a face. "That seems like a silly reason to sleep with someone."
She means it, of course. She doesn't say it pretentiously or disingenuously, the way other people do when making those sorts of comments. Looks don't mean much when they can't be seen.
Jace is definitely going to be a hard sell.
"And what do you think a good reason would be?" Alec sits down on the floor next to where she is sprawled on her stomach, a notebook open in front of her. Leaning back against the foot of the bed, he watches in fascination as perfectly formed lines appear beneath the point of her pencil. Slowly, they take the shape of a rune he doesn't recognize.
Clary smiles to herself. "You mean, why do I sleep with you?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
She lifts the pencil from the page. "Well, I like the way you talk to me. You're not condescending like Father or Jonathan. And you're not scared of me like the servants always were. You talk to me like I'm a normal person."
Alec raises his eyebrows. "If that's all it takes, then we may be experiencing some problems in the near future because—"
"Hush." Lead touches paper. Another rune begins to form. "I also like how you help me see. And I don't just mean the physical things. Anyone with some patience could do that. You've helped me see a lot of things—some stuff that I never really wanted to see in the first place." Her hand pauses after guiding the pencil through a sharp angle. A moment later, it resumes its journey. "You've taught me about colors. I like the colors you make me feel. I like your colors. A lot. Sometimes I wish I could make you see them, too. I like the way you touch me. Like you've never touched someone like me before, and like you don't want to stop. And I like touching you—"
Alec has her flipped over on her back before she can finish the thought. He kisses her and she smiles against his mouth. It's a kiss that tries to say many things at once.
- TBC -
AN: Thanks for reading! This goes out to all the Fraywood shippers out there. :)