So many people wanting to shoot me. I FEEL THE LOVE!

Okay, so I tried to make this one longer but…it's still pretty short. SORRY! And I'm not very good at writing awkward conversations (who is good at that???) so bear with me.

A lot of you are on the right track! Thanks for every review; even if you're telling me you want to shoot me in the face. More reviews=faster updates! Tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.

Magnus was half-conscious when the infirmary door opened to admit Maryse Lightwood. It was the sharp click-clack of her heels against the tile that jolted him from his daydream and made him look up at her.

"Oh," he said, getting to his feet. His limbs shook with exhaustion but he managed to stay upright. Beside him, Alec groaned and batted at the sheets with one lazy hand. "Hello Mrs. Lightwood." A wince. "I'll be going."

"No," she said quickly, her eyes widening behind the messy fringe of dark hair. Maryse looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her bun was coming loose, black curls framing her sunken, bony face. Purple-gray bags hung beneath her eyes, the color of the shadows cast by her cheekbones. "No. Stay Magnus. And call me Maryse, please. Mrs. Lightwood makes me feel like an old British nanny." She attempted a smile, but it just came out worried and forced.

"All right, Maryse." Magnus settled back into the chair, absently running one hand through his disorderly hair. Blue-black strands dangled lank past his ears, clinging to his sweaty skin.

Maryse sat down on the bed, springs creaking as she brushed back Alec's hair. Her eyes were haunted, the lines around her mouth deepening into a frown. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Alec will be fine," Magnus promised, scrubbing at his face. His eyes stung. "Your foyer on the other hand…" He gave her a half-hearted grin.

She returned his look with a weak but devilish smile. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about the carpets."

His grin widened, showing off his teeth. "Press ganged Isabelle and Jace did you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Maryse nodded. "The work will be good for them. Character building and all that."

Alec groaned, his face twisting into a pained mask, the sweat that lingered on his skin glimmering as he moved. Magnus placed a hand on the newly made scar that covered the right half of his chest stretched, shiny and palely pink. Alec's breathing was slow and arduous but even, his heart thumping hard under Magnus' touch.

Maryse made a choking sound and when Magnus met her gaze, he saw the tears that glittered in her pale blue eyes and dripped onto the front of her shirt. Her make-up had begun to run, mascara painting long dark streaks across her face. She bit her lip and bunched her hands into shaking fists. "God," she whispered. "How do I thank you?" Her expression was imploring, searching his for some way to make her earnestness clear. "You saved my son's life."

Magnus shook his head, pulling back his hand and tapping his nails against the bed frame. The sound made a tinny metallic ring that echoed off the walls. "You don't need to thank me," he said, his voice quiet and thoughtful. "You not running to grab your torch and pitchfork is enough." Maryse laughed, but it sounded more like a strained cough. "Though, I hope you know," Magnus added, his eyes sparkling with amber color.
"I would be here anyway."

"I used to wonder what Alec saw in you. You, a warlock, a Downworlder. Now I think I know. If there's anything I can do…"

"Tell me you don't mind. Us being together."

"It was never a question of minding." Maryse paused, considering it. "Well, maybe it was in the beginning," she amended with a guilty quirk of her lips. She sighed, her shoulders heaving as if with sobs. "It's a question of wanting what's best for my son, and doubting that you're it." She smiled, looking between her son and the warlock, her face morphing slowly to something mysterious and utterly unreadable. "I don't doubt anymore."

Magnus looked away, pulling his legs up under him, and resting his elbows on his knees. The edge of the chair bit into his thighs, keeping him from slipping into unconsciousness. It had been a grueling task, healing Alec with so much demon poison in him. Almost impossible. If it had been anyone else he would've pulled out his cell phone and told them to call the mortician.

But not Alec. It had almost killed him, but he did it. He dragged him back from the brink of death by his hair. His power was nearly gone, the sleeping animal inside him groaning and pathetic in it's slumber. If anyone else got hurt, they were screwed. It would be forever before he could conjure so much as a spark.

"I can see how much you care about him," Maryse said, wiping her eyes, leaving a mark like a bruise on the back of her hand and make-up smeared across her nose. "And I know he cares about you." She smiled, tired and hopeful. "Forgive an old woman her prejudices?"

Magnus shrugged. "It's not a question of forgiving. Alec loves you,"—he gestured towards the sleeping boy with a jerk of his head—"then so do I."

"Thank you," Maryse breathed, and tears dotted her lashes like a million tiny diamonds. She leaned over and kissed Magnus on the cheek, leaving a pale pink lipstick mark. "But if you ever break his heart," she warned, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction. "I'll feed yours to the fairies."

Smiling, Magnus nodded. "Duly noted."

Then his eyes widened and before Maryse could blink, he was on his feet and halfway across the room. Surely not, he thought, his mind racing. For the first time in days he felt wide awake, his heart beat hammering in his ears. Surely not.

"Where are you going?" Maryse asked, standing. She looked worried, her skin tightening around her eyes as she frowned. Crossing her arms over her chest, she hunched her shoulders, as if she was cold.

Surely not. Impossible. But maybe…?

"I just remembered something," Magnus said, picking the shapeless lump that was his coat off an abandoned bed and draping it hurriedly over his shoulders. The material was cold against his skin, fighting the fire that pulsed in his veins. "I'll be back before he wakes up." When Maryse gave him a hesitant stare, he added, "Trust me."

Maybe. It's worth a try.

She sighed, wrapping her sweater tighter around her slim frame. Everything about her seemed tired, beaten. Everything but her eyes. They sparkled in the dim light like cut gems, piercing him like knives. "You've been warned, Bane." She was only half joking.

"Please," Magnus said, sparing Alec one last look. "Call me Magnus." He strode out the door, letting it slam shut behind him.

I'll be back. I will. I have to be.

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"Hello?" Alec called, and then coughed. His voice was harsh and rough, scraping against the inside of his throat, making him gag. Every part of him hurt, even his toes ached. There was a new scar stretching across the plane of his chest, and his hair stuck to his skin with dried blood.

Everything he knew said he shouldn't be alive. But the heavenly scene floating dizzily before his eyes was a familiar one. The ceiling of the infirmary, angels and clouds drawn out in pastel paints.

All Alec could remember was a flash of blue sparks and a sweet voice in his ear. And pain. Always pain.

"Hello?" he called again, but only the echo answered. The room was empty. "Magnus?"

Alec tried to sit up, but waves of agony racked his body, making him cry out and sink back into the sweat-stained pillows. His breathing sped, his limbs shook and twitched, and his eyes drifted closed. He wanted to sleep, but he was afraid of what might happen if he drifted into darkness.

"Magnus?"

Review, review, review! Please? I know it's vague and I know it's confusing, but, indulge me a little? Keep the theories coming!