AN: The update NO ONE WAS WAITING FOR. Do people still even use FFnet? Hope so. Ummmmm...Maybe go back and read the last chapter before diving into this one? Just a recommendation.
Thank you, Maggie, for picking up the beta work 5.5 years later. You're amazing.
Compulsory Butterflies: Part VI
Clary's drawn from sleep by the kiss of fingertips against her cheek. The light touch traces her jaw and continues down the slope of her neck, slipping over her shoulder. She's certain it's not meant to wake her, but dreams are already slipping from memory, and she can't help stirring. Another hand lightly braces her knee as carefully as if she were made of glass. It's a half-dream. The dark, quiet of night clings to the bedroom air. Her throat is thick and dry with sleep.
A rough palm slides up the back of her thigh. She turns into the heat, falling into the weight of his body. She tries to stretch awareness into her body as the skating touch finds the sensitive curve of her belly. She hums, tired but pleased. She reaches for his wrist, following the warm underside of his arm upward, passing over an endurance rune…
Clary stops. She breathes deep, and the scent of incense and pine has her jerking backward. Her shoulder slams awkwardly into the headboard, causing her eyes to water. His name catches behind her clenched teeth. "Jonathan!"
"Clary."
Her heart is pounding. She feels hot and twisted tight. "What...what are you…"
"You looked so peaceful."
"Alec!"
There's movement beside her on the bed, a subtle shifting of weight.
"Alec!"
"I'm awake, Clary. I'm here."
"I-" She doesn't know what to say. She tries to smother the nameless roaring in her ears. And then she hears it-soft and steady. Alec's breathing is easy, rhythmic-normal. His voice is clean of any sleep. The only betrayal is his heartbeat-shallow, quick skips beneath the surface of a serene pool.
Clary's eyes start to burn.
"Clary." Jonathan's fingers graze her arm. She smacks his hand away.
"Don't touch me!"
"But you liked it when I touched you." His voice dips closer to her ear. "Didn't she, Alec?"
Alec says nothing.
"It's natural to want the things that bring us pleasure," Jonathan continues. "And you bring us so much pleasure, Clary. It doesn't seem fair not to give back." He sets his hand on her thigh.
Clary feels sick. Biting the inside of her cheek, she turns her face from her brother. "Get out, Jonathan."
He stands. "You're not ready. I understand. You two should get some more sleep. Dawn is hours away."
As Jonathan's footsteps disappear down the hall, the silence in the bedroom grows. There's something unspeakable between them. It's something terrible. The back of Clary's throat aches with it.
"I was awake."
"Don't," she pleads.
"I was awake when he came in. And the thing is...I wasn't surprised to see him. Why wouldn't he be here with us? And I knew he wanted to touch you, and I didn't stop him because…"
"Alec, please."
"...I wanted him to touch you, too. I thought that somehow it would make all of us happy. And now..."
"It's not your fault. It's the rune-where are you going?"
He's pulling on pants and a clean shirt from the closet. "How can he do that?"
"He isn't right." She turns her body towards him. "Valentine did things to him. It's more than demon blood-"
"No. How does he do it? How does he make me feel those things? We both have the rune, but somehow I'm the one without control. I'm the one who gives in. I'm the one who's weak."
"You're not weak. You're just not...manipulative. You keep your feelings to yourself."
"I'm going for a walk."
"Alec."
"I'm sorry, Clary. I'm really, really sorry."
"I know."
Once she's alone, Clary thinks about her childhood. She thinks about the long spans of silence between the only two voices she grew up hearing. She thinks that knowing better is only barely worth the pain of knowing. She knows that things are much worse than she wanted to believe.
\ /
"This is ridiculous."
Clary grabs her designated pillow and angrily fluffs it against the headboard. She hears Jace padding around the room, his steps quiet but audible to her trained ear. He's beside the window, the wardrobe, the bathroom, the bedroom door. His room smells like sage, soap, and sharpened metal.
He retraces his steps, circling back around the perimeter of the room.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking for any signs of dark magic. Making sure my wards are still in place."
"Wards?"
"Protective runes."
"They're there. I can feel them." Clary fingers the blanket covering the bed but doesn't move to climb under it. "They won't keep Jonathan out."
"No. But it will keep out any of his demon bosom buddies."
"I could sleep next door." She spreads her hands over the nightstand, searching the boundaries of the corners—measuring its size before carefully placing her stele down. "I don't need you to protect me."
"Maybe not. But Alec does."
"Well, I don't need Alec to protect me either."
"I'm tired." Jace pulls back the covers on the bed. "You can get in and go to sleep, or you can stand there all night, dreading the prospect of sharing 10 square feet of space with me." When Jace settles on the bed, it causes the mattress to jump against Clary's thighs. "And I should warn you, I sleep in the nude."
Clary toes off her shoes and unbuttons her pants. "So do I."
\ /
When she presses her hands to Alec's face, she can feel his exhaustion. "How did you sleep?"
"Not well."
"Me either."
His lips skim her wrist.
"Can't I come back to our room tonight? I could put a locking rune on the door. A really big one."
He squeezes her hands. "Clary…"
"Stop apologizing!"
She draws away, sweeping her cane across the floor to detect any obstacles between her and the coffee maker. The carafe is full and steaming, and Clary knows that Jonathan made the pot before he left the house this morning. He made it for her because he doesn't drink coffee himself. He made it for her because he knows she's come to enjoy having a big cup of it every morning. The vanilla creamer in the fridge is there because he bought it, knowing that she would like it.
Clary picks up the mug Jonathan set out on the counter. She throws it and enjoys the sound of the ceramic shattering against the wall.
The ensuing silence is broken only by Jace landing in the living room after vaulting off the second-floor landing. His running steps slow only when he enters the kitchen.
She knows both of them can tell she wants to cry. "We need to find Jonathan's adamas cup, and we need to get rid of it."
"Okay." Alec moves toward her. "Okay."
\ /
Clary stands from the couch as soon as she hears Jace's footsteps on the stairs. "Did you find anything in his room?"
"Did you know that your brother is a complete slob?"
"Yes."
"That's good. It should make it harder to tell we were snooping."
"Did you find anything?"
"No."
"Did you search the bathroom?"
"Shockingly, he doesn't use the Infernal Cup as a toothbrush holder."
"Ugh!" Clary falls back to the couch, hands in her hair. "You've looked everywhere and found nothing. There's no way he keeps it on him. It has to be here somewhere."
The couch shifts slightly beneath her as Jace sits on the opposite end. "Well, you can hardly expect him to leave it lying around where we could easily find it."
She sighs. "How much longer before they get back, do you think?"
"They've been gone for just over an hour. Not really sure how long it takes to track down a warlock and bribe her into designing a ritual that will summon the mother of all demons. Two hours? Maybe three if traffic is bad."
"Alec said he would try to buy us extra time."
"I wonder how many bathroom breaks he'll take for before Jonathan becomes suspicious."
"If we can't find the cup, we have to find something. The location of the ritual or when it will take place."
For a moment Jace is quiet, then, "You really think you're going to get us out of this mess, don't you?"
Clary leans back, resting her head against the couch. "I think that I have to try anything and everything. Maybe you can imagine living in a world where Alec is dead, but I can't."
Jace doesn't say anything to that. For several moments they sit in silence. Then Jace is sliding towards her along the couch. He takes her hand and puts something made of warm metal in her palm. "I didn't find the cup or an outline of Jonathan's evil master plan, but I did find this."
"A ring?" But not a normal ring, Clary realizes. It's thick, with a groove along the middle. One half is textured with smooth indentations. "This is my father's. He would use it to move from one place to another instantaneously."
"I've seen Jonathan use it once. He just twists it and disappears."
"It's very old." The story of its origin floats distantly at the back of her mind, just beyond her recollection.
She goes to hand it back to him, but he stops her. "I want you to keep it. In case 'anything and everything' doesn't work."
Reluctantly, she nods and slides the ring into her pocket.
"That's not the way most girls respond to getting expensive jewelry."
Curious, Clary asks, "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No."
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't need one. I like the time I spend with women to be brief, satisfying, and brief. If you let it drag on, she starts talking. And usually it's not about anything interesting. Something about her social life, her ex, or, Angel Forbid, her feelings."
Clary almost smiles. "Jace Wayland. Terrified of making small talk with women."
"I'm not afraid. I just find it tedious."
"You'll fall in love someday."
"I already have."
Clary turns in his direction. "With who?"
"Myself, naturally."
Naturally.
Clary shakes her head. "You know, I basically lived alone at home. Valentine ignored me most of the time, and Jonathan was always busy training. The servants never spoke to me unless they had to. I spent most days by myself, doing whatever I could to pass the time. But I never felt lonely. Not until I met Alec. And then I realized how lonely my life was, how unhappy I was."
"Being in love sounds delightful."
"You're being sarcastic, but it is delightful. Because once you realize how unsatisfying your life is, you realize how much better it can be when you're with that other person. You want things you never wanted before, and the only way you can get them is if that other person helps you. It's like it makes the world bigger and smaller all at the same time."
"I like the world just as it is-with me at the center of it."
"That's not true. Otherwise you wouldn't be fighting so hard." Clary prods his shoulder. "Someday, you'll meet someone who makes your world bigger."
"And smaller."
Now, Clary does smile. "Yes. Exactly."
For several moments neither of them speak. Then Jace sighs. "I hope she's tall. With large breasts. And nice teeth. I refuse to fall in love with someone who has crooked teeth."
"You don't get to choose who changes your world."
"Well, not with that attitude you don't. It's not my fault you got saddled with Alec."
"Rude."
"Or...are you the one who's usually saddling him?"
"I can draw a rune that makes it feel like your bones are crumbling inside your body."
"I think that answers my question."
\ /
Jonathan sounds pleased when he and Alec return to the flat a couple of hours later.
Alec hugs Clary close and murmurs, "Don't tell me anything."
She nods and tightens her hold on him.
\ /
The pain comes swiftly and viciously. One moment Clary is climbing the rock ledge behind her home, and the next she is lying in a strange bed, barely awake, her right calf feeling as if it's been set on fire.
She chokes. She cries out.
The bed shudders. Jace's breath is on her neck. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"My leg!"
The blanket is gone. Everything is cold air and Jace's warm hands on her knee.
He forces her leg straight, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out a second time. His fingers work the muscles of her calf, pressing and massaging. The burn of the cramp slowly simmers into an uncomfortable stiffness. As Jace continues his ministrations—her leg slung across his lap—Clary thinks she ought to use her stele for the rest. But the press of his tapered fingers is more pleasant than the burn of a rune. He seems to know what he's doing.
Clary's relief is tempered by her embarrassment.
"Do you often get muscle spasms?"
"No." She pushes hair out of her face. "So, you don't actually sleep in the nude."
From what she can tell his legs are covered in soft, warm cotton from hip to ankle.
"Neither do you."
She shrugs, tugging at the hem of the t-shirt she borrowed from Alec's closet. It's more than she usually wears to bed. "I didn't want to give you the wrong impression."
Jace makes a sound that presses his ribs against the ball of her foot.
"Were you having a nightmare? When you woke up?"
It's perhaps the most intimate question he's ever asked her. Certainly the most sincere. For several moments, she considers her answer. Jace waits without comment.
"I was dreaming that I was climbing to the top of a tall wall. Somehow I knew that Jocelyn would be on the other side. And I needed to find her. But before I got to the top, I fell and woke up."
Jace says nothing. His hands slow on her leg, his mind somewhere else. She wonders who his mother is, if he's ever met her. Clary wonders if his mother is dead. Clary has never thought to ask.
She withdraws her leg from his grasp, turning onto her side. She gestures for Jace to follow suit, and he hesitates only a moment before lying down beside her, his face almost uncomfortably close.
"I haven't told Alec why I really went back to my brother and father." Tentatively, she pulls out the necklace beneath her shirt, the chain with the tiny vial hanging at the end. "I told him that this was just a good luck charm." The bottle pulses like a heartbeat in her palm. "At first, I wasn't sure why I lied. I've never lied to him before. But then…"
"The blood rune."
"I'm afraid that if I tell him, Jonathan will know, too."
"Know what?"
"I need to find my mother. I need to wake her up."
\ /
"I need an army."
They've gathered in the living room. There's music playing. It's full of low, unmeasured bass layered under quietly drawn French lyrics. The obscurity of the song soothes Clary nerves, and she's almost comfortable, sitting beside Alec on the couch, holding his hand while Jonathan pours fingers of whiskey. Jace is drinking somewhere on the other side of the room, pretending that he wasn't summoned to this impromptu tactical session.
Jonathan's voice sounds like white noise Clary could tune out.
"My father has had command of the Nephilim for too long. He should have crushed the Resistance months ago. Those loyal to him are beginning to doubt his ability to win this war. Not to mention that his own children have abandoned him. The Nephilim want a new leader."
"And you think they'll follow you?"
Alec doesn't sound convinced. Clary remains silent about her own doubts. Her brother inspires fear, not loyalty. He repulses every human he meets. No human would follow him willingly.
Jonathan's voice doesn't betray any concern. "They want to survive. They've come too far to turn back. If their side loses and the Resistance wins, those who supported my father will be punished. They remember what happened to the members of the Circle. Not everyone received the leniency your parents did, Alec. The Nephilim just need to know that we're the ones who can win. And Jace is going to convince them."
Alec startles beside her. Clary can tell he wants to say something.
Jace beats him to it. "Are you sure you want to send me? I might tell them you have rainbow unicorn bed sheets."
Jonathan laughs—a hard, empty sound. "Your peers have always looked to you, Jace. First, the Lightwoods. They took you in, trained you, called you their own. Alec chose you as his parabatai. Then, the entire Shadowhunter world saw the way you stood against Valentine's armies in Alicante. Now, Clary thinks the safest place is at your side, in your bed." Jonathan replaces the stopper in the crystal decanter. Clary's teeth grind. "You'll go to Valentine's commanders in secret. You'll take their unrest and turn it to our advantage. You'll let them know what we have to offer them."
Jace walks over and slides an empty glass tumbler across the coffee table. It stops before falling onto the floor. "What makes you think I'll agree to do that?"
"Why wouldn't you?" Jonathon pours and slides the glass back in Jace's direction. Whisky sloshes. "We all want the same things."
\ /
Jace is good at sitting still. It's almost unnatural—the way he becomes motionless the moment Clary's stele touches the skin above his right shoulder blade. While tracing a deflection rune, she presses harder than necessary, testing his silence. He doesn't complain or even flinch. It's almost unnecessary to brace a steadying hand against his shoulder, but she does it out of habit.
She grips the scars Alec has left there.
"Sorry I can't portal you into Alicante. But I'm pretty sure the wards would drop you in Lake Lyn."
"Sneaking in quietly isn't my style anyway."
"Killing them isn't going to win them over to our side."
"Neither will a pep talk."
She steps away, the bedroom air subtly smoldering with ready Marks. "Jonathan might be right, you know. Everyone assures me that you're charming and a pretty good smooth-talker."
He stands, pausing before pulling on his shirt. "I feel…"
"Stronger?"
"Filled in. Fuller."
Alec has never described it that way to her. He's always said that her runes make him feel as if he's been painted into a new skin, that the lines she draws lie like armor welded to his body. But Clary has stopped being surprised by how different these Parabatai are.
She tucks her stele through the knot of hair atop her head. "You're sticking to Jonathan's plan, right? Sneak in, confront the Nephilim at the bottom of Valentine's ranks, exploit their discontent, gain their support, and confront his lieutenants only if they seem likely to be swayed."
"And find Joceyln."
Clary doesn't like his confidence. He honestly believes that he'll walk into Alicante, penetrate Valentine's fortress, discover where Jocelyn is, and steal her and half of Valentine's forces out of the city. Never mind that the underground tunnels are compromised or the fact that Valentine must be expecting a move like this from them.
She doesn't like his confidence because it makes her hope he might actually pull it off. And she doesn't know what to do with hope.
"Don't do anything that will get you caught by Valentine."
He straps on his weapon belt. "I'm not doing it for you."
"What?"
"Finding your mother is necessary to stop Valentine. Jocelyn knows where the real Mortal Cup is. It won't be long before he finds a way to rip it out of her. We may be fighting with and against Jonathan now, but Valentine is the one who started this war. I know he intends to finish it. And if he does, nothing you, Jonathan, or I do will matter."
"I know." Clary's job here is done. Her hands are empty. The space around her feels too big to fill with any more talk. She moves towards the door.
"What will you do while I'm gone?"
"Whatever I have to."
"I would be careful if I were you."
"No, you wouldn't."
Jace hesitates, and Clary pauses with her hand on the doorknob.
"Jonathan told me that I can promise the Nephilim a new, previously unharnessed power. He says he can give them a strength once hidden and hoarded in the depths of the universe's darkest Hell."
He means it, of course. Coming from anyone else, that claim would be mere euphemism. But Jonathan has the drive and the fortitude to see it through.
"I'll do what I have to."
\ /
"Ow."
"What?"
"Oww. Stop that."
"Hm?"
"What are you doing? Stop."
"I'm punching you."
"Well, quit!"
"Try to stop me."
"Jesus, Clary! Stop."
"Just try."
"Clary!"
"Alec!"
Finally, Alec catches her wrists. He tugs, and they roll across the training room floor until Clary's back hits a pile of free weights. It hurts, but Clary doesn't care because Alec just touched her for the first time in a week. And he doesn't flinch away like she's made of fire.
"You're abusive," he complains.
"And you're neglectful." She inhales his smell, takes in the texture of the coarse hair on his chin. "But I still love you."
"Still?"
"Mmhmm."
Clary's glad he doesn't move to get up. "Do you think Jonathan felt that pummeling?" she wonders.
"Cut me, and he'll bleed," Alec quotes tiredly. Something about the phrase makes him snort in amusement.
The sound fills Clary with something lighter than air. "I know I said I wouldn't kill you, but I might be okay with some light maiming. If you agree to it."
"Don't move."
Clary goes still. "What is it?"
Alec's fingers are on her lips. "You're smiling. I can't remember the last time I saw you smile."
She mirrors his gesture, running a nail over the indentation beneath his nose. "When was the last time you smiled?"
The room is quiet, and they're so close that Clary doesn't mind it when he doesn't answer her.
"You know," he says instead, "a little bit of light maiming might not be so bad."
"Hmmm. But where to start?"
Her hands find their way beneath the hem of his shirt. She traces the gentle slope of muscle along his abdomen, enjoying the way his breath catches and heart races. Her index finger finds the bottom flourish of the blood rune on his chest. She traces the bold, elegant curve of the rune. Unity. Self. Sacrifice. She feels all of these thrumming beneath the surface. If she doesn't concentrate, she finds her finger slipping from the Mark, losing track of where it ends and the rest of Alec begins.
"Are you getting anything?"
"Shush."
Alec dutifully goes silent, and Clary continues her examination.
She tries to open her mind to that distant part of herself which so seldomly allows something old and hidden to rise to the surface of her consciousness. She opens the box that holds all of her desperation-her need-to fix what is happening to him. It washes over her like cold water.
She shivers. Her bones ache.
Please, please, please…
Help me.
But there is nothing. Just darkness.
Alec squeezes her hip.
Clary shakes her head, tries to hide her heartache by rolling on top of him, head against his chest. "It's so powerful."
"There's a reason blood runes are forbidden."
"There's a reason they were created."
"Not for this."
"No. Not for this."
\ /
There's a library on the first floor. It's small, with bulky furniture that takes up too much space. Clary doesn't have a reason to spend anytime inside. There's no reason for her to stop when she walks past and catches Jonathon's voice mingling with Alec's scent.
"...what we need to complete the ritual. We just have to wait for the Devil's Solstice. In the meantime, Jace will bring us soldiers."
"You're sure that's the right location?"
"The Seventh Sacred Site is the place where the wall between our worlds is the weakest. It's the perfect place for the war to really begin."
"What about the cup? You can't know for certain that it will work. Maybe we should test it. We'll only have one shot at the real thing. If it doesn't work—"
"You worry too much. You trust me, don't you, Alec?"
"Yeah, but…"
"Then you can trust me when I say that it will work. It's Lilith's blood that will give the cup any real power."
"Fine."
There's no reason for Clary to stop walking, so she doesn't.
\ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ /
"I've missed this."
The touch of Clary's skin against his as she slides her palms over his ribs makes his muscles quiver and jump. He nods, helplessly. She shifts on his lap, and there's no way to lie about not wanting to go farther. The feeble excuses he's come to rely on since Jace's departure seem even feebler when her hand is on the buckle of his pants, seeking to undo his confinement.
Jonathan may be just down the hall, but Alec is painfully hard, and it's difficult to remember Jonathan at all when Clary is on top of Alec, her hair falling over his shoulders, her scent everywhere.
It's been a while.
For them, it's been a while. Days, weeks—somewhere in-between.
Alec, who has always taken a certain amount of pride in his self-restraint, doesn't bother fighting Clary. Her legs are naked and clutching his thighs, and maybe this is a small taste of the afterlife—a limbo where you're fated to eternally wait for all the good things you've been damned for wanting.
There's a permanent rune just above her knee.
All it takes is the brush of her eyelashes against his cheek, and Alec is rolling on top, lifting off her shirt, and reaching for the drawer of the bedside table.
Minutes ago he was refusing to let her sleep here. Now the thought of her leaving has him tugging at her hair, bruising her hips, and pinning her arms to the mattress.
Afterwards, she smiles, and her satisfaction doesn't wane until sleep pulls her limp and restful against Alec's body. He threads an arm through hers and doesn't close his eyes until hours later, when hers open and catch the sunrise slanting in through the blinds.
\ /
Even with the blood rune beating on his chest like a second heart, Alec has never found himself liking Jonathan. Whatever binds their life forces and instincts so closely together has failed to foster any tender feelings between them.
Of course, Jonathan is incapable of tender feelings toward anyone. Even his infatuation with Clary and Jace as members of his family does not stem from a place of love. He craves their submission. He craves their power.
So when Clary curls against Alec's side with the bed covers pulled up over their heads and she whispers, tell me his weakness, the answer comes easily.
"You."
\ /
"Any word from Jace?"
"No. I told him only to contact me if he hears anything important about our father's dealings."
Clary bobs her head in understanding. She's lying across the couch with her head on Alec's lap. Together, they're attempting a crossword puzzle in a newspaper Alec found in the back of the library.
Their progress is brutally slow. It turns out that Mundane word puzzles require Mundane knowledge. Pop culture. History. The only answer Clary has managed to help supply so far is "viscous."
Alec enjoys it though. He likes the way Clary furrows her brow while listening to the clues. And she laughs whenever he gives up and just adds extra boxes to make his own words fit.
Across the room, Jonathan stands at the kitchen table, methodically cleaning and sharpening his weapons.
In the 10 days since Jace's departure to Idris, Jonathan has been...restless.
Now that he has everything he needs to complete the ritual, Jonathan is simply waiting for the right time and for the recruitment of allies.
He does not like waiting.
"Ugh. This is a terrible game." Clary turns onto her side, batting the paper away. "We should come up with our own."
"Only children play games," Jonathan says without looking up from the bow string he's methodically waxing.
"I don't care. I'm bored," Clary declares. "You say we have to wait, but you won't give me any information, like where we're going or how much longer until you plan to do the ritual."
"You'll get the information when you need it, and not before."
Alec realizes he is a terrible person for not sharing this information with Clary himself. He should have told her when he found these things out almost a week ago. He wanted to. It's good information to have. Something they could use against Jonathan.
But then he thinks about betraying Jonathan, and the words dry up like dust in his mouth.
"Will I have to drink from the cup?"
Alec looks down at Clary, startled.
"What makes you ask that?"
She shrugs, absently tracing a circle over Alec's knee. "Maybe if I did, I would finally be able to fight. Maybe it would give me my sight. Isn't it supposed to make Shadowhunters stronger?"
"Of course she won't have to drink from it," Alec says quickly, looking to Jonathan for confirmation.
He is now watching them carefully. In the moments of silence that follow, Alec is confronted with the image of Clary-the girl now sprawled so trustingly across his lap, the girl fearlessly fighting for his freedom-drinking deeply of Lillith's blood and transforming into something dark and inhuman, something powerful but soulless.
Alec buries his hands in her hair. "Jonathan-"
"No," he says finally. "Of course you can't drink from the Infernal Cup. We wouldn't want to risk it leaving you infertile somehow."
Clary's nails dig into Alec through the denim of his pants. "Of course."
\ /
Alec enters the kitchen that night to find Clary sitting on the counter, swinging her heels back and forth so that they bump gently against the cabinet doors.
Jonathan stands next to her, unpacking a large takeout bag of Turkish food.
The two of them are talking. Alec can't make out the words.
\ /
"Where are you going?"
Clary is cross legged on their bed, head tipped toward him. She's freshly showered and wearing a soft tank top that clings to her breasts and reveals the freckles on the small of her back. Alec very much wants to take off his jacket and stay locked in this room with her for the next several hours.
"Jonathan wants me to check and see if the local Institute is abandoned or not. If it's empty, I'm supposed to check for any weapons left behind. If it's occupied...Hey, what's that?"
Clary has slid to her feet and begins pulling items from the drawer of their night stand. Carefully, she crosses to him, holding up a folded sheet of paper. "This is for Jace. Give it to him. Don't read it."
"I'm not going to see Jace. He's probably in Alicante. We're in Hong Kong."
She presses something into his grasp-a familiar family ring engraved with a "W." Then she turns his hand and begins carefully drawing the location rune she had once used to find Isabelle.
"Clary-"
"Give it to Jace. Then hurry back." The rune completed, she slides Jonathan's silver, enchanted ring onto his finger.
"I can't. Jonathan..."
"Alec." Her hands on his face are soft and unblemished. They are not the hands of a Shadowhunter. And they are no longer the hands of a lonely girl waiting in her tower. "If you love me, you will do this for me. You will do it for Jace, for your family, and for you. And you'll do it now. Please."
She is all courage and strength. Somehow, she has destroyed and rebuilt his understanding of bravery. He used to think it meant picking up a sword or a bow without worrying that you might never get the chance to set it back down. Now, when he thinks of bravery, he thinks of Clary's hands tentatively taking hold of his arm as she inks a Fearless rune onto his skin.
When he nods, she closes her arms around him, and he is metal finding its shape in the heat of the forge.
\ /
Jace gapes at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"
"Hi, Jace. Nice to see you, too. I'm fine, thanks."
He shakes his head. "Is Jonathan here? Clary?"
"No. Just me. I'm supposed to give this to you."
Jace looks at the paper suspiciously. "What is it?"
"I don't know. Clary told me not to read it." He doesn't quite manage to keep the sting out of his voice.
As Jace unfolds the page, Alec takes in their surroundings. A dark corner on a dark street in the middle of the night. How many times have the two of them stood in a place just like this, only on the other side of the world? Starting a patrol. Seeking a demon just out of sight. Would they ever find themselves in New York again?
Jace swears. "By the Angel, she's something."
Alec raises an eyebrow, but Jace doesn't comment further. He tears the note to pieces and drops it into the sewer grate by their feet.
"Careful, Jace. You almost sound impressed."
"I'm not impressed. I'm exhausted. Do you have any idea how hard it is to convince people that Jonathan Morgenstern is the man they should pin their hopes and dreams on? I've had to stop referring to him by name. I've given him a new moniker: The Silver Goon. Do you think he'll mind? It's really gaining traction here."
"I'm sure he'll love it."
"Maybe we can have some posters made up? I could paper the drinking houses."
Alec shakes his head. "That desperate, huh?"
"Actually...no." Jace leans back against the brick facade of the nearest building-an innocuous German bar. "There are a surprising number of Valentine's men who think he's floundering. He still doesn't have the Mortal Cup. The resistance hasn't been stamped out. They thought the fighting would be all but over by now."
"That's good news."
"Maybe."
"What? If Valentine's forces are fractured, he's weaker."
"Yes. More susceptible to the efforts of Maryse and the other resistance fighters. But also possibly more susceptible to Jonathan's promises. Remember, we don't actually want Jonathan to win."
Alec turns away from the look Jace gives him. "Right."
For a moment, neither of them says a word. That they're even standing here having this conversation...it seems like a dream. A God-awful, fucking nightmare of a dream.
"What's it like? The bond."
Alec shrugs. "I don't really know how to describe it. It's like...I notice myself doing things or thinking things that I know I wouldn't usually...but it feels right. Like...It's like I'm coming to terms with a new part of me that, rationally, I know isn't me at all. It's Jonathan. But it is me. Fuck. I know that doesn't make sense. There's no internal struggle or anything. I do things that I feel bad about later, but in the moment I believe it's the right thing to do."
Jace is silent.
"I should ask you to kill me. Right now, when there's no one around to stop you. But I can't. What does that make me Jace?"
"You can't ask me to do it," Jace says quietly, "but I shouldn't need to be asked. I could run you through with a seraph blade but I haven't. What does that make me? Weak? Strong?"
"I don't know."
"Either way, the battle isn't over yet. We can still stop him."
"I don't see how."
"That's probably for the best. If you don't see a way, then Jonathan might not either."
"Yeah, well that-ugh." Alec grabs at his ribs. "Ow."
"Ow?"
"Yeah, I...It feels like I just got hit. Hard. It must be..."
"Jonathan."
Alec nods.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"You're bleeding."
Alec raises his hand to his stinging cheek. His fingers come away wet with fresh blood. He sees the way Jace is watching him and rolls his eyes. "It doesn't really hurt. You don't need to look so worried. He wouldn't have done anything really dangerous without backup."
"And what if he's at the house?"
"You really think someone's found that place-"
"Alec." Jace grabs him-hard. "Clary."
\ /
In his rush, Alec ends up teleporting back five blocks away from the flat. He closes the distance in a sprint, dodging pedestrians when he can and shoving them aside when he can't. He almost overruns the inconspicuous door tucked in the middle of a rundown row of apartments.
Inside, the first floor of the house is completely silent. The lights are off, but the darkness doesn't hide the overturned chair, the water puddled on the floor, the shattered coffee table. Alec's breathing sounds like screams in the quiet.
"Don't worry about the mess. I'll have it cleaned up later." Jonathan walks down the stairs. He is calm. Collected. Three pink lines are fading on his cheek.
"Where's Clary?"
"Where were you?"
"You said you wouldn't hurt her."
Jonathan stops in front of him. "I changed my mind."
Alec moves to push past him, when Jonathan catches his arm.
"You've known my sister for a few months. I've known her for her entire life. I held her when she was just a baby wailing for the mother that had abandoned her. I taught her to walk. I showed her how to hold a dagger. I convinced my father not to punish her the way he punished me. I placed the first Marks on her body. And when she was all alone, I gave her you. So, if you think you're entitled to parts of her that I cannot share in, you are mistaken. We are one, you and I."
Alec thinks he might vomit.
As soon as Jonathan releases him, he takes the stairs two at a time.
\ /
She's in Jace's room. In the bathroom, standing in front of the steam-fogged mirror with the lights on.
"Clary?"
She says nothing.
She's clean. Her hair is dark and wet. She's not wearing any clothes, and Alec looks her over for any sign of injury. He only finds the last, fading shadows of an Iratze on her neck.
He steps closer.
"Don't."
"Clary, what happened? I felt…"
"Did you find Jace?"
Her voice sounds distant and carefully clear.
"Yes."
"You gave him the note?"
"Yes, but-"
"I can't talk with you about it. Do you understand?"
In the mirror, their reflections stand in stark contrast. She is motionless, unwavering. Her borders are clear and formidable. He is frayed, splintered. There is no single, coherent person staring back at him.
She could unravel him with a touch, if she wanted. She could reduce him to a pile of the unfamiliar parts and pieces that so precariously hold him together.
"I want to help. Tell me how to help. Please."
For a moment she is silent, the humidity in the room building like a solid wall between them. Then, "When this is over, promise we can go somewhere to be alone. Just the two of us. Someplace far away. For a little while."
When this is over. Yes. When it's all done.
"I promise."
She turns her head towards him. "I'll be fine. Tomorrow I'll be fine."
AN: Well. Well. Well.