Author's Notes: This is written by a combination of two prompts - 'a moment's respite' and 'one missed call'. I hope you enjoy it!

No one would have let him keep the phone on the ship if they'd known about it; that much Jace was sure of. That didn't mean he was surprised to still have it - even when still wearing the face of Michael Wayland, Valentine had never been one for detail. He'd always gone for the big picture and now was no different - taking Jace with him had been his main goal and he hadn't paid attention to anything else, even something as painfully obvious as a phone.

Well, Jace wouldn't be the one to point that out to him.

The service was - predictably - too poor for him to contact anyone. He didn't know what Valentine was doing on the ship, but the fact that he was sustaining at least one portal in a body of water was enough to explain that. Portals were better suited for building; places where nothing would disturb the connection between the here and now and the world beyond it.

And even if he'd been able to, Jace knew that he wouldn't have called anyone. His father would know, he was sure of it. He wasn't sure how, but he was sure that someone would tell him, or he would get suspicious and then he'd take it away and the only potential way out - no matter how fragile it was - would be lost to him.

He couldn't risk that. Right now - alone, away from everyone and everything he held dear - that was the only thing he wasn't willing to risk.

The phone would die sooner rather than later, he knew it, but he still unlocked it, desperate for any distraction that could come his way. He was supposed to be asleep; his father had sent him to bed, just like he'd done when Jace was just a boy, and had told him that he'd need his strength tomorrow. It was the one thing Jace didn't want to dwell on just now and he was almost grateful for the bright number 1 over the phone icon. A missed call.

Someone had tried to call him, no doubt, but they must have known that the chance of it coming through were rather slim. Still, he wasn't surprised when the name that came up was Alec and he stared at it for a moment or two before pressing the phone close to his ear, making sure that even the guards outside couldn't hear anything.

He was grateful for how cautious he'd been just a moment later when Alec's voice floated over the line, loud and frantic in a way that could only signify panic he was trying to keep on a leash.

"Jace, whatever you're planning, you don't have to do it. We'll figure it out. We'll figure something out. Just..." On the other end, someone called Alec's name. "You said it yourself," Alec added and Jace could almost see him walking down the street, presumably towards Camille's apartment when they'd ended up later. "We have to do this the right way. Together."

The sinking feeling in Jace's stomach had started ever since he'd heard the first sentence, but his fears had taken shape now, confirmed by everything about the message he'd just heard. Alec had left it before Valentine's arrival; before Jace had been taken away. Even if he'd tried to get through later, he hadn't managed it.

He was on his own.

o.O.o

Back when he'd first taken a bow into his hands, Alec had been warned - by Hodge and by any other martial arts teacher sent from Idris - that it was a tough weapon. It didn't change shape to fit in your hands but rather made its place there in any way it could. It had proved to be true in the years to come - the calluses on Alec's fingers had faded and roughened his hands in a way that made Isabelle squirm and vow that she'd never touch the bow unless it was the last weapon on Earth. He'd got used to it, at last, and the bow had got used to him - the magic within it was so deeply connected to him that it was almost a part of his body.

And yet, he could see the bruises on his hands today. It hadn't happened in years and it only testified how much use he'd had of it in the last few hours.

So much death. Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike had lost their lives in the last, desperate battle with Valentine's armies and Alec was covered in ichor and blood. They stuck on his skin and in his clothes and his hair and he wouldn't have been able to tell them apart if not for the colour, and it was revolting, but not enough for him to find the nearest bathroom and wash it all away.

"You look like shit."

Alec looked up - not that he'd needed to; he'd already recognised the voice - and managed a smile.

"So do you," he countered, "so we make a good team."

It wasn't exactly a lie, and it wasn't the truth either, but somehow Alec had a feeling that you look like death warmed over might have seemed untactful even for him.

But the horrible reality of it was staring him in the face - even the deep cut on Jace's left cheek couldn't distract from the deep shadows under his eyes or from how limp his movements were now that the fire of the battle had died out inside him. He took his place by Alec's side on the bench and leant his head on Alec's shoulder. His relief was almost tangible and Alec realised that he'd lost any motivation he could have had to get up - if this was where Jace wanted to be, he had no intention to make him move.

He felt something land in his lap and looked down to see Jace's phone, battered and covered in dirt. "It's dead," he said when it didn't react to his touch and felt Jace nod against his shoulder.

"And I would have been too, if it hadn't been for you," he said with a deep sigh that almost radiated finality.

Alec frowned and was ready to probe further, but stopped himself from saying anything. He'd ask his questions later; if he could, he'd get every detail of what had happened to Jace during the months he'd been on Valentine's ship. For now, he just pocketed the phone and leant against the wall, making sure that Jace was as comfortable as possible.