Title: Eternally Bound

Summary: Alexander Lightwood was only three when his parents died. Now he's a servant of the Morgensterns, bound to their secrets more tightly than any could imagine. Now he must free himself and experience life before his runs out.

Note: Huge thanks to harmonized insanity, who beta-ed this at the speed of lightening when I spent two weeks getting it to her and then another day to post after getting it back. Despite what she thinks, that wasn't a slow beta-ing (Yes, I'm looking at you harmonized).

On that note - sorry for taking so long. Writer's block on the first half of this chapter killed me and then school hammered down yet again. But once I got the second half going, I sped through it and finished the entire chapter in two days (I had to go back and fill in the first scene, but I had tremendous fun with the second). And this chapter, you get my version of a happy lemon - which is really the instant powdery lemonade mix before it's mixed with water (as it's been described by a friend). Slightly reminiscent of Calls and Closets, if you've read that (if you haven't check it out - my first Malec fic ever, and prior to this fic, my most popular. Yes, shameless self promotion). Speaking of CoC - the review count has beat it. That was my most reviewed fic for such a long time. Go record setting! I'm shocked at the response this is getting so thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I appreciate you so much, and I really hope you can continue to enjoy this fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own MI. Cassandra Clare does.

Chapter Six

Alexander felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when he followed Robert into a white room.

"This is your room," he said quietly and stepped aside.

It was a large room, but Alexander had been in bedrooms this size. It wasn't as large as Jonathan's had been, but it was certainly bigger than his own and the cell combined. All the furniture and bedding was white to match the walls. He had to blink a few times to avoid being blinded. Sunshine filtered through thin white curtains.

The splash of color across the bed was what caught his attention and took his breath.

A worn, frayed blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the bed. It was a baby blue and clearly once loved, though it had a clean iron pressed look to it. A large square was cut out of the corner that Alexander could see.

He knew what that was.

"My blanket," he whispered in awe. He hadn't spoken much since meeting his family – his siblings were very skilled at filling up the silences by themselves. He and Robert had an uncomfortable conversational relationship that was filled with long pauses and awkwardly phrased sentences. Alexander, as always, preferred to answer questions instead of ask them. Apparently, Robert preferred the same.

However, he quirked an eyebrow and smiled uneasily. "You remember that old thing? Jace found it in one of our storage rooms and Izzy insisted we put it in here."

"I used to have a little piece of it that I carried in my pocket," Alexander said, slightly astonished as the memory came flooding back. "I… I had it during the fire. It was the only thing I had." He limped forward, leaning heavily on his cane. The bed was pushed against the wall, and so seemed an impossibly far distance with his dully throbbing knee. It was no matter though – he had endured more serious injuries and continued with his work. This was nothing.

The dull itchiness under his skin, though, was getting on his last nerve.

Robert laughed a little bit when Alexander finished speaking. "Your mother tried to wash it once and you had a fit. I'm not surprised you had it with you then. If Hell was breaking loose and sending forth demons, you would have toddled through the horde without a weapon for that square."

Alexander suspected that Robert was exaggerating on his love for the blanket a bit, but he smiled as sincerely as he could and said, "I would, sir?"

He didn't turn around, but he could feel Robert's smile fall. "Definitely. You were an odd toddler. I think. Very mature. You were only three but you were very well behaved. So quiet." He sighed. "I suppose that's why we didn't notice when you slipped off to nap that night."

Alexander shuddered and scratched at the hand holding the cane. He didn't recall most of the night, not the kidnapping certainly, but sometimes he dreamed about the flames.

Fire frightened Alexander more than almost anything except Jonathan. He knew that, facing flames or Valentine's rage, he'd choose the rage in a heartbeat. He'd watched flames lick up the sides of the house and distort wood and glass and cloth, he's watched it consume everything in its path. Even while making fires in the fireplace, he was cautious and nervous.

Alexander stroked the blanket reminiscently. It was soft and silky under his fingertips. He didn't think he'd ever touched anything like it apart from skin, and the difference was that he liked this touch.

"Alec?" Robert said quietly. Alexander blinked before realizing that he was being addressed. Everyone was calling him that nickname, a nickname he wasn't even aware existed. He almost preferred Blue Eyes, however much the warlock liked to annoy him with it. It was admittedly excellent incentive to cut out the "sirs" in their conversation, no matter how awkward it made Alexander feel.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you hungry? Tired? You – you probably shouldn't have been putting your weight on that leg all morning."

"It's fine, sir," he murmured. In all honesty, his leg wasn't bothering him at all anymore. His throat felt scratchy and his hand was itchier than before. They were absolutely taking over his senses. "I'd just –" He cleared his throat. "I'd just like a glass of water, sir, please." His mouth was suddenly dry and he couldn't understand why. He was sure a small drink would cure it, though.

"Of course," Robert said and leaned out into the hallway. "Isabelle! Get a glass of water for Alec, please!"

Her heels thumped out of a room down the hall. "Okay!" she chirped.

Alexander smiled. He liked his sister. She was quirky and crazy and downright the oddest person he had met besides Magnus, but – well, after meeting Magnus, he was sure he could deal with anyone. The only problem with Isabelle was her disposition totouch. She was never shy about simply coming up behind him and giving a bone breaking hug that caused him to yelp in surprise and occasionally fall over. Since the time he fell off the bed, she was more careful, but not more gentle. At least, he always forced himself to think, it was all in good meaning.

"You can trust her in the kitchen?" Jace's shout followed. Alexander had resigned himself to the fact that he would always be loud.

"Oh, shut up!" was Isabelle's only reply and he heard her flight down the stairs.

Jace wasn't what he expected the Other One to be like, but he also wasn't not what Alexander expected. He couldn't explain it, even if he was permitted. The itch inched up to the runes and he scratched that too, despite the area still being highly sensitive. He sat down on the bed, still stroking the blanket, and tried to put his thoughts into words for himself.

Jace was arrogant and held himself similarly to Jonathan. As both were raised as sons of Valentine, it was only to be expected. He often boasted of being the best Shadowhunter of their age, but Alexander had yet to see him train. No matter how good he was, it was doubtful that he surpassed Jonathan. Alexander had dodged too many bullets – or knives, in this case – to be able to say otherwise about the boy's skill.

They had the same sly smile, the same dangerous glint in their eyes, the same slinky movements that allowed him to sneak and trap and capture.

But, unlike Jonathan who was trapped in the house with only one victim to hunt, Jace clearly had better things to do, more dangerous demons to test his sleuth on than Alexander.

And unlike Jonathan, when he smiled it wasn't always cold. It was sometimes warm and friendly, and when he laughed it was genuine and even made Alexander smile a bit.

And, most shockingly, unlike Jonathan, his eyes held something more than disgust and contempt. They held fear and memories. He didn't flinch when Isabelle raised a hand for a high five (Tobias had explained how they worked and Alexander still didn't quite understand). His eyes had simply darkened, as if he remembered a time when he had.

Alexander decided that the Other One was a bit more like him than he would have thought.

The short, black haired boy with glasses came running to the doorway with a glass filled to the brim. "Izzy told me to bring this to Alec." Max was carefully balancing the water with every step. Alexander pulled himself up and took a few steps to close the distance. Even with his running tackle display, Max was extremely shy compared to his siblings and tiptoed around Alexander constantly. True to form, as soon as Alexander relieved him of the glass, he bolted.

Alexander watched him go with a slight frown. "He doesn't like me much, sir," he commented after he took a small sip.

Robert shook his head and laughed. "That's just Max. Give him a few days to warm up to you." Alexander doubted this would work.

"Will Tobias be here soon, sir?" he asked into the silence. Tobias had travelled separately from the family in order to wrap up business in Idris. He reportedly had to visit a niece of his in another Institute as well, so he was taking his sweet time.

"Not until later," Robert admitted with a sad grin. "I know how much you two get along. He's a good friend. I'm glad to have him around, even if Maryse isn't."

Alexander gulped. Maryse was frightening. He couldn't ever remember having a mother figure, but from what Jonathan said, mothers were supposed to be kind and sweet and gentle (at least that's what the books that he read claimed). But Maryse had an iron fist. She had yet to do anything but frown or smile tearfully towards him, but he saw the looks she gave the other children when they misbehaved. And he wasn't oblivious to the glares she focused on Magnus and Tobias – even more intense than the glares they gave each other.

"Oh." He set the glass on the dresser and hobbled back to the bed. "Well. He's very nice, sir. He… He found me. I think. I don't remember clearly, I just… Well, I was beginning my vomiting stage." He felt a hot surge rush to his cheeks. Just the other day, the nausea had disappeared without medication. Alexander was elated, but also dreading what would come next – surely something would come next.

"We're all glad you're feeling better," Robert said warmly. "Do you want me to go and let you get some rest?"

The burning in his face increased. "Oh no, sir, you don't have to -"

"It's fine, Alec," Robert assured him, but it didn't work.

Without meaning to, words tumbled out of his mouth. "Please, could you call me Alexander?" He clapped a hand over his offending lips. "I mean – never mind, sir, never mind."

Robert's forehead crinkled like he was thinking. "Oh, of course, Alec – Alexander, I mean. I… I'll spread the word." He looked confused. "May I ask why?"

Alexander looked away, embarrassed. "It's nothing, sir."

"You can tell me," Robert insisted, stepping forward. "Really."

"It's nothing, I just –" Alexander groaned. His brain and the words just weren't cooperating. "It's just… all my life, everything I know has been… wrong. What I've known about my family, what I've known about life, everything that's been done to me is apparently… wrong. Alexander is my name, though, and that's always been right." He shrugged, feeling like a fool. "That's all, sir."

Robert watched him for a moment with the Pity Look that Alexander had received too many times to count. "We can certainly call you Alexander," he whispered and nodded. Something was wrong with his voice, as if he was about to cry. Alexander watched him back, concerned, and bunched up the blanket in his hand. It was bizarrely comforting after fifteen years. "What happened to your square?" Robert asked suddenly, his voice back to normal.

Alexander blinked and tried to figure out what he was referring to. "My blanket square, sir?" Robert nodded. Alexander shrugged and bit his lip. "Burned. After about a week of me asking for the full blanket, he burned almost every blanket in the house including the square. I got over it." Even though he was only three, he could picture the crackling fire and charred blankets. It was his first punishment in the Morgenstern household. Valentine wouldn't replace his blanket for weeks.

Alexander knew what it was like to be cold.

He still wouldn't go near that fire.

Magnus's eyes were felt like they were going to burn out of their sockets.

He groaned and rubbed his eyelids in an attempt to rid them of their soreness. It didn't help.

The words on the page before him were beginning to look like a blur of black ink. He couldn't comprehend them anymore. Then again, there was little in this situation that he couldcomprehend.

There was absolutely no excuse for a man who was willing to torment a person like this. Alexander was so young, so innocent. It sickened Magnus to think of what horrors he had encountered.

Shadowhunters may be Shadowhunters, and they may come across some dreadful things during their adolescence. But Magnus knew that any Nephilim would think twice, think thrice, think a multitude of times, before ever laying a harmful hand to one of their own. Valentine was a twisted man, Magnus was sure of that.

Under most circumstances, Magnus would have relied on Alexander's youth to aid his recovery. With so much time left in the boy's life, it would have been logical. But now, that time was severely dwindled and Magnus simply didn't know what to do.

"This doesn't make sense," he mumbles tiredly to himself and rested his forehead on the spell book. "His symptoms aren't here, the potion doesn't exist!"

"But I do." The quiet voice from the doorway startled Magnus. He jumped and twisted around in his seat to grin at the tall figure.

"When did you get here?" He pushed back his chair from the desk and stood, straightening out his rumpled clothes.

She stepped forward and allowed some of the light from the desk lamp to illuminate her features. Her green eyes showed mild amusement, but Magnus knew better than to believe that she was happy with him. "Four hours ago, Magnus. You haven't moved from your desk."

Magnus's jaw dropped and he checked his jewel encrusted watch. "Four hours?" It felt like he had only sat down for thirty minutes.

She nodded. "I've been here since sunset, and you were already there."

Magnus blinked the blurriness out of his vision once and for all. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Crap. I'm sorry, Camille, really. I completely forgot that you were coming over and – Oh no. I didn't feed Meow!" He headed towards the door, but Camille grabbed him by the wrist.

She pulled him back with one small tug. Her skin was cool and shockingly pale against his tan arm. "You care more for the cat than me," she said in monotone. She stared at him as if she was daring him to deny it.

Magnus laughed and slipped his arm out of her grasp. He bent in to kiss her gently and rested his hands on her hips. "Of course not," he assured her. "But if Meow doesn't eat, then he'll interrupt us when I'm showing you how much I care." He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and planted a deeper kiss on her lips.

She pushed him away too quickly for Magnus's taste. "I fed Meow," she said.

Magnus sighed and stepped back. He slammed a few of the books shut and shoved papers into drawers. "Way to kill the moment, Cammie."

"Cammie?" Camille sounded disgusted as she echoed the nickname.

Magnus wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, you're right. It doesn't fit you. How about Cam Cam? Cutie? Honey buns?"

She was laughing by now. "Magnus!"

He turned around and shook his head sternly. "Your pet name can't be Magnus. That would be weird. Imagine us in bed, me being my magnificent sexy self, getting you all hot and bothered and then I lean in and whisper in your ear –"

"All right, that's quite enough." Camille grinned and closed the distance between them to cup Magnus's face in her hands. "You are incredible, Magnus Bane. I wonder why I put up with you sometimes."

He grinned back and shrugged. "I'm just saying how awkward it would be to start moaning my own name when it gets good. I'd rather you be the one going 'Don't stop, Magnus, don't –'"

He was cut short when Camille practically threw herself on top of him. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't actually seen his girlfriend since he returned to New York. The phone calls hadn't been anywhere near enough to sate the urge that had him holding her closer and grabbing in places that most respectable women would have slapped him for.

Not that Camille wasn't perfectly respectable, of course. They just had a lot of experience with one another. He knew exactly what he could get away with and what he couldn't.

He was the one that pulled back this time, breathing heavily while she didn't breathe at all. "I missed you, babe." They were sitting in his desk chair, though Magnus couldn't remember when they had ended up in this somewhat promiscuous position. He figured it was around the time they had begun their somewhat promiscuous make out.

Apparently, that was something he couldn't get away with. Camille stood up and fixed her skirt with a roll of the eyes. "Babe? Where do you pick these things up? The mundanes?"

Magnus got to his feet and kicked the rolling chair backwards. It banged into the wall with a satisfying thud that simultaneously made him cringe about the damage it might have done to the new paint job. "Well, as I happen to like modern television and movies, and I also like to interact with people –"

"Eavesdropping on mundanes' conversations isn't interaction."

"- I do tend to pick things up. Like babe. What, you don't like it?" He knew she could care less for mundane slang, but it was too fun to bait her. He watched Camille wrinkle her nose in the most dignified way possible.

"No, I don't." She crossed her arms and slid away when Magnus tried to embrace her again.

Magnus sighed. It was time to get his old time courting techniques out of storage. He fixed his clothes, stood straight, and offered her a hand like a gentleman. "Very well, Lady Belcourt. I'll remember to address you properly from hereon forth." A slight London accent tainted his words.

A grin curled Camille's luscious red lips and revealed her pearl white teeth. She took his hand daintily and stepped closer. "You will do good to remember that, Master Bane, if you would like to remain in my favor."

He kissed her knuckles chastely and bowed. "Of course, my lady." He began to lead her towards the office door, and strived to remember what they had done in the beginnings of their on and off relationship – before the sex started, at least. "What would you like to do tonight? A stroll in the park? Perhaps a night at the club?" He dropped the act – accent and all – and twirled her around. Her hips swayed seductively and she continued to walk tauntingly away. Her pale leg peeked out of the thigh high slit in her long black skirt.

Magnus followed her out of the room and placed his hands on her shoulders lightly. "How about we go to a movie and make out like horny teenagers in the back row?"

Even though her back was to him, Magnus could practically see Camille rolling her eyes. She turned slowly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her sweet breath landed on Magnus's face and he swore that he wasn't in control of his actions when his hand found its way up her skirt. It was all her fault anyway. It's not like she was oblivious to what she did to him.

"You've been working all day," she whispered into his ear. "So I have an idea."

"We get bloody drunk?" Camille raised an eyebrow and he shrugged, "I miss England, sometimes."

She shook her head, laughing. "No, we stay one hundred percent sober tonight."

Magnus didn't even try to hide a pout. He pressed his body against hers more securely. "But I like it when we get drunk together."

She disregarded his comment. She probably thought he was already drinking. "You are going to lock up that office until your girlfriend has left. Then that girlfriend is going to make you something to eat. And then you are going to clean yourself up and take a shower." She slinked out of his grip and put her hands on her hips. "And if you're good, that girlfriend might join you."

Magnus bit his lip and regarded her carefully. "You're going to cook for me?" He paused as realization flooded through him. "Oh my God, you fed Meow! Is he okay? Do I need to take him to the vet? Where is he?"

Camille threw her hands up in the air and stalked off to the kitchen. "You're not earning your company!" she yelled and Magnus hurried to follow.

"Of course I am," he said and jumped onto the counter. He swung his legs and leaned back carefully to avoid knocking over the knives and wine bottle behind him. "We all know that the more you're mad at me, the more you'll want sex, and then the better it'll be."

Camille sighed and opened the refrigerator. "What if I told you that I didn't want sex tonight?"

Magnus frowned. "I'd make a lot of innuendos, because I'm seriously in the mood, but otherwise, we could just do couple-y stuff. Non-sexual couple-y stuff, I mean. Really, the offer for the movie or the stroll or something still stands." With her inquisitive glance, he added, "But we can take out the make outs in the movie, if you want. We can see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix."

Camille rummaged through the freezer contents for a few seconds before she found a frozen pizza and laid it on the counter. "Didn't we see that two weeks ago?"

Magnus shrugged. "I missed the entire battle scene except for the part where Daniel Radcliffe had some sort of seizure. You distracted me." He snapped his fingers and the oven knob turned to the correct temperature. "Sorry, darling, I'd rather you not burn it."

Camille ignored him and unwrapped the pizza in one graceful movement. "How long does this cook?"

"Ten minutes or so?" Magnus estimated.

Camille nodded and set the timer after she shoved the pizza onto one of the racks. "Do you think that's enough time for a good shower?"

Magnus frowned. "Wait – so you dowant to have sex tonight?"

Camille laughed and ran her hand down the front of his shirt. "Why wouldn't I?" she whispered and dragged him to stand on the floor with her. Their hips ground together and Magnus's fingers tangled in her curls. She planted a trail of kisses along his neck that left his skin burning despite her icy feel. He struggled to detach one hand from Camille for just a moment, and then flicked his wrist towards the oven.

The oven clicked off and Magnus's mouth found Camille's in the feverish frenzy. There was no way that they'd be done in time for the pizza.

Well, he thought so. Camille left him gasping for air a moment later. He held onto the counter for support while she glided across the kitchen towards the toaster. She leaned down and repaired her hair in the reflection. "Of course, considering the amount of times you've kept me waiting in the past few days, maybe we shouldn't."

He couldn't help whining. "But Camille -"

She turned the oven on again and adjusted her red shirt so it hugged her curves perfectly. "You wouldn't pressure me, would you?" She raised her eyebrows daringly. "You wouldn't try to make me if I said no, right?"

Magnus suddenly felt sick at the insinuations. "Of course not." He stared into her deep green eyes for a few seconds, thinking about naïve Alexander who had been forced to do things he had never wanted. "Damn it, Camille, you just killed my sex drive for the next month."

She set her lips into a straight line and sank into a chair at the kitchen table. "I apologize. But please tell me how that killed your sex drive? Because I was under the belief that I only fuelled it." She gave a pointed look to his crotch and Magnus collapsed into the chair beside her, too annoyed to be flustered.

"I just thought about Alexander," he mumbled and buried his head in his arms.

Camille made a discontented noise. "You know that I really don't care who you sleep with when we're not together, but it doesn't exactly comfort me to know that you're thinking of some man in that way when I'm standing right here." She looked away fleetingly before raising her head to meet his eyes. "So, what bar did you meet at and how long do I have until you're cheating again?"

Magnus gasped at her accusations, but gagged on his own saliva. "Camille, Alexander is my new patient! The Lightwood boy!" He coughed a few times to clear his airways. "The case I've been working on! There's no way – I didn't – I wasn't thinking about him in thatway. Jeez. Do you really have such little faith in me?"

Camille crossed her arms over her bosom. "You've never been one to hold back your advances when you're interested," she said delicately.

Magnus sighed and grabbed her hand. "How many times have we been over this? I'm with you. I'm not going to cheat on you."

"Again," she interjected swiftly.

Magnus shut his eyes and winced. "Again," he amended. "The last time I cheated on you was over fifty years ago. I'm not going to do it again."

Camille didn't take her hand away, but she didn't respond when he squeezed hers gently. "He was married, Magnus."

"It was a mistake. I'm not allowed to slip up every once in a while? I'm over eight hundred, I think that one mistake per decade is permissible." She was silent and Magnus groaned. "I can't believe you're still holding that grudge."

"You ruined a marriage and you cheated on me! Aren't Iallowed to be angry when I find out you've been fantasizing about others?" Camille turned a threatening glare onto him and Magnus backed away.

"Whoa!" He held up his hands with his palms facing her. "I have notbeen fantasizing about anyone besides you, Camille! And I don't think you have a right to be criticizing. What about the One Month Stand Debacle of 1962? That time where you met a guy at a bar and cheated on me one night, and then the next, and then the next, and then the next –"

"I broke up with him and came clean, Magnus," Camille snapped. "I admitted I was cheating on you! Youlet me walk in on you two screwing each other in mybed!"

Magnus reddened at the reminder. "Shut up or get out," he muttered. "I'm in a crappy mood. Alexander –"

"That boy again!"

Magnus couldn't take it anymore. He clenched his jaw and glared at her viciously. "Alexander is a scared little boy who is dying, and all I'm trying to do is save his life. I have nofeelings for him, I barely know him."

"You've never cared much about knowing them before," Camille said bitterly. She stood up and turned away to check on the pizza. "You're always so overtaken by their beauty that you forget I even exist."

Quiet tension rose between them. Magnus couldn't deny that she was entirely wrong about the beauty part. He did happen to appreciate a good looking guy or girl, and sometimes he let go of his reservations. But he also thought twice before doing anything when he was dating Camille.

"He's not beautiful," he murmured honestly. It was confusing – his memory kept showing him those gorgeous blue eyes and warm, blushing skin, but he knew better than to think of him as stunning. He wasn't. "He could be, but… He's broken. The boy's been scarred, mentally and physically. You know how I am with that kind of stuff. I can't handle it."

Camille didn't face him, but he watched her muscles relax. "You never could," she agreed. "And he's a Lightwood," she added, sounding a little more confident. "They're the most uptight Shadowhunting family I've met. He's probably straight as a stick."

Magnus laughed and approached her slowly. "There we go. You've got nothing to worry about. Alexander is my patient. Not only would any sort of relationship be highly inappropriate and likely traumatizing after what he's dealt with, but I've got you."

Camille spun around and closed the distance with a step. "I'm sorry," she muttered. Magnus wrapped his arms around her in an embrace and she melted into him. "I shouldn't have assumed… It's just – you've been around so little since he was found and – it reminds me of then."

Magnus bent in to kiss her softly. "I've missed you." He moved his lips against hers as he spoke.

"I've missed you, too." She allowed a few inches between them and twisted his arm up to check his watch. "I ought to go soon," she said sadly.

Magnus checked his watch. "It's only one! The night's barely started!"

Camille laughed. "The sun rises early in the summer, Magnus," she reminded him. "And the coven expects me back before sunrise. If I'm not, Raphael gets command until I return, and then they'll all murder me."

Magnus snorted. He knew Raphael and had never liked the brat. "Why don't you just get rid of him? Nobody likes him much… I doubt they'd mind…"

"Oh, hush!" She nudged him sharply with her elbow. "He's not so bad once you get to know him. He's just a little… pretentious, sometimes. He lets power get to his head very easily. It's not hard to live with him, just hard to allow him to be in charge."

An idea struck Magnus and he gathered some of Camille's shirt in his hands. "Move in with me," he said forcefully and yanked her closer.

Her expression was confused, but her eyes betrayed her emotions when they lit up in delight. "What?"

"Move in with me." Her sleeve slipped off her shoulder and Magnus pushed it down further. "Come live here. We don't have to worry about not seeing each other often and," he began to nuzzle her neck, "We'll have more time for this."

It was a satisfying moment when Camille gasped. It was rare to elicit an audible reaction out of her in any circumstance, let alone one that they'd been in so many times. "I'll bring my things tomorrow night," she said and Magnus felt the waistband of his jeans loosen with her touch.

"Here?" he whispered, fully aware that she didn't actually care wheredespite her usual fuss about PDA. They'd done it almost everywhere he could think of. The kitchen certainly wouldn't be new. They were even in the best spot. She answered silently – with one hand, she tugged his zipper open and with the other, she pulled her shirt over her head.

Oh, yeah. Here. And now.

Magnus was beginning to think of it as a very productive night. Worked all day, had his girlfriend come over, made out, fought, made up, invited her to move in, and now they were on their way to having inevitable make up sex.

And all in less than twenty minutes.

He had his hand splayed out flat against her smooth, cool stomach while the other travelled up her back, towards her bra hooks. She was still working his pants over his legs – damn, skinny jeans were not a good idea for the night – but didn't seem to mind much.

An annoying beeping startled Magnus. He gasped and pulled back quickly, leaving a trail of spit between them. "Seriously, I have to wake up now? Damn alarm clock… damn dream…" he muttered.

Camille laughed and he blinked, somewhat startled to realize that she was still in his arms. "It's the oven, you idiot."

"Oh. Right." Magnus glanced towards the stove and registered the wafting smell of pizza. His hunger spiked a little, but subsided when he looked back at Camille. "Let's let it burn."

And then the phone rang shrilly.

Chairman Meow came bursting into the room, mrowling and darting between their legs. He got tangled in Camille's shirt, which was lying on the ground, and Magnus sighed. "Dumb cat, it's just the phone," he muttered and pulled up his jeans.

Camille shook the little fur ball out of her shirt and slipped it on as she went towards the phone. Magnus snapped and turned off the oven before he summoned the pizza out and let it sit on the counter to cool.

"This is Camille Belcourt, who may I ask is calling?" Camille tapped her nails on the phone and frowned as she listened. Magnus was slow to button his jeans as he watched her. "Hm. Yes. He's right here. Just a moment." She brought the phone away from her ear and covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "It's Robert Lightwood," she informed him coldly. "Something about his son."

Magnus's eyes widened and he grabbed the phone from her. "Bane speaking. What's the problem? Is Alexander all right?"

Robert sounded flustered. "He's got this really bad rash, all over his body. It's splotchy and red. He said it's… it's itchy. We're trying to stop him from scratching it, but the skin is extremely dry and some of it looks like it's… it's peeling, I think."

Magnus sucked in a breath through his teeth. "That sounds painful." He started mentally preparing what he'd need to bring to the Lightwoods.

"From what he told Tobias, it is. But he asked for you. He won't let us near him. Not even Toby. But he said if we called you, that you could come and help. Well, not in so many words, he's out of it and his mouth is too dry to really make too many sounds, but that's what we inferred."

Magnus pushed aside his urge to comment on Carstairs. "His mouth is dry? Is he dehydrated?"

"We think so. We're giving him fluids, but they don't seem to be working." Robert sounded more concerned with every statement. "It started this afternoon, but we didn't think it was too bad until a little while ago. He was just a little itchy and thirsty. Do you think it's part of the poison? He hasn't been vomiting anymore, maybe…?"

"The symptoms change as time wears on," Magnus finished and sighed. That was exactly what he was dreading. "It sounds like it could be."

"Are there any cures?"

Camille had stalked out of the room silently as soon as he said "Alexander," but Magnus watched her lay down on the couch in a comfortable manner. He shook his head, determined to stay focused on this even though his girlfriend's shirt was all out of place and showing more cleavage than it was supposed to. "Seeing as I still don't know what the potion is, I don't know. But I'll treat his symptoms as well as I can."

Robert sighed in resigned relief. "Thank you."

"It's coming out of your pocket," Magnus reminded him. "I'll be over soon." He hung without a goodbye and dropped the phone beside the untouched pizza. "Camille?"

"You're going. I know."

Magnus zipped up his jeans and summoned all his supplies to the kitchen table while he walked over to Camille. "I was going to say I love you," he said and bent over to kiss her. She turned her head and he got her cheek instead of her lips. Magnus shook his head. "You're really a jealous bitch sometimes," he commented.

Camille gazed up at him seriously. "I love you, too. Even though you sometimes prioritize cats and teenage boys over me." She pushed herself up and dragged him in by his collar for a kiss.

Despite this, Magnus left the apartment with an aching heart and seriously screwed up head.

On the bright side, the make up sex for this fight was bound to be good.

Note: Don't kill me for the Magnille. I've sort of temporarily fallen in love with them. And... that scene was fun. I'm toying with the idea of writing a few Magnille oneshots on the side, perhaps in this universe, perhaps out of it, because they're admittedly hot. I can't wait to see how they REALLY interact in COFA, but until then, I'll have my little slice of heaven. Writing that scene reminded me a little of writing my first Malec fic, Calls and Closets... I got very nostalgic. Writing a new couple (for me) in a situation like that seems to do that to me. It was interesting. I hadn't expected them to fight that much, but I suppose it just sets the ground for them. But it's important to remember that they do love each other. They've been in this relationship on and off for over a century - the fact that they keep coming back to each other must mean something, right?

Well, we'll see what happens next chapter with Alexander and perhaps a continuation of the drama hat is Magnille? I'm not sure, I've slacked on my outline. I'll try to get this chapter out sooner (and I'll try to reply to your reviews quickly this time! I won't get a chance for last chaspter's reviews until later or tomorrow, but it WILL get done!)

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are love.