Sorry this is a little later than planned, I wasn't in a Alec/Magnus mood the past couple of days. To tell the truth, I wasn't really today either, so this kind of sucks. Also the fact that I was crying the whole time I was writing.

(JafaCake: Abuse away! I hope it will be clear now why I was so depressed.)

So, read on, don't kill me, and as always, tell me what you think! (Also, there's a Gandalf [LOTR] reference in here for anyone clever enough to catch it. If anyone does, they'll get virtual cookies and I'll update tomorrow.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Still. Obviously.

Magnus jumped when Alec opened his eyes, sloshing coffee over the rim of his mug and onto his lap. He cussed under his breath and brushed away the beading liquid.

"That you Magnus?" Alec rasped, the sound of his voice scratchy and faint. Magnus winced, and for a moment, his resolve wavered. I can't do this, he thought, watching as Alec looked up at him with huge blue eyes so full of love and trust. I can't do this. I can't.

"No," Magnus drawled, covering his shaking with layers of mockery and sarcasm. "I'm Jace. Don't I just ooze asshole-ishness?"

Alec laughed, a harsh, irritating noise that sounded more like a cough than anything else. "Asshole-ishness?" he scoffed, raising a shivering hand to wipe back his clinging hair. Magnus had to resist the urge to do it for him, especially when he saw the boy's lips quirk with pain. No, he told himself, bunching his free hand into a tight fist around the hem of his coat. You have to do this. There's no other way. You have to do this. No other way. "Is that even a word?"

"It is if I say it is," Magnus snapped, more clipped and terse than he had planned. In an attempt to lighten things, he lifted the mug in Alec's direction, making a face. "Isabelle makes really shitty coffee, did you know that?"

Alec's eyes nearly swallowed up his face. "You're drinking that?" He sounded alarmed, his voice jumping a good couple of octaves. "And you aren't dead?"

Magnus' eyebrows pulled together and he pursed his lips, peering into the depths of his nearly empty coffee. "Should I be worried?" he asked, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"You should be hospitalized!" Alec shoved himself up into a sitting position with a grimace and a tiny moan. Bandages were wound around his torso, looking dirty and yellow against the stark white of his skin. The hint of a burn poked out near his shoulder, the skin puffy and shiny red.

"I think I'll take my chances."

There was a long pause, in which the only thing to be heard was the gentle sucking sound of the coffee splashing against the wall of the mug.

"Where were you?" Alec said finally. The look in his eyes was wounded and withdrawn as he tried to meet Magnus' gaze. The warlock turned his head aside.

"I never left," he lied smoothly. It wasn't hard. Lying never was. Not after nine hundred years. It was easy to ignore the twinge in his chest that throbbed with every untrue word.

Instead of looking to Alec, Magnus focused on the picture resting on the nightstand beside a dirty glass and pitcher half filled with water. The photo was frame in delicately tarnished brass, wrought in the shape of climbing ivy and embellished with tiny gemstone flowers. In the background whirled the Ferris wheel on Coney Island, lit up with a million lights like multi-colored fireflies. Everything else was taken up by Magnus and Alec, both grinning like idiots, their faces pressed close together to squeeze into the frame. There was a piece of wrapping paper taped to one corner.

"Yes, you did," Alec pressed, toying with the edge of the sheets. "I woke up earlier and you were gone. I remember it. Where were you?"

Magnus sighed. "I do have a life, Alexander, I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn after all."

Alec's face fell and Magnus winced. He shouldn't have been so curt. I can't do this. I can't do this. "I know," Alec said. "I just…thought, I don't know." He sighed. "I figured you would stay."

I have to do it. I have to. "There was something I had to do."

"Well, thank you, anyway,"—he gestured to the bandages with one hand, a half smile on is lips—"for healing me." He didn't know what was wrong, but he could feel the tension.

"I almost didn't answer my phone."

Alec snorted derisively. "You always answer your phone."

"But I almost didn't."

"Why?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Does it matter?" Magnus asked, setting down his mug and resting his chin on his hands. "If I hadn't picked up, what would have happened to you? You wouldn't have had time to find another warlock. You would've died."

"But I didn't," Alec said, talking to him as if the warlock was a small child failing to understand why he shouldn't go pet the big kitties at the zoo. "Because you were there."

Magnus shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, leaving a glittery streak of colorful make-up across the back of his hand. It shone in the light as he moved. "What if I hadn't been there?"

"Are you not going to be around?" Alec asked. "Is that what you're trying to tell me? Are you going somewhere?"

"No," Magnus said, and his voice sounded strange. Coarse. Choked. "I'm not going away. I just,"—he paused and ran his fingers through his heavily gelled spikes, making them lean to one side, falling in his eyes—"I just can't be around you. I can't."

There was panic in Alec's eyes but his voice was strangely calm. "At the risk of sounding cliché, are you breaking up with me?"

Magnus frowned and bit his lip. "Well, no, it's not—"

"Is it my mom," Alec interrupted, leaning forward. The sweat on his bare skin glimmered, the sheets rustling loudly in the tense air. "Did she say something?"

And for the first time Magnus smiled. But the smile was so sad that it sent a chill racing down Alec's spine. The boy leaned back into his pillow, the smell of blood and sickness heavy around him, thick and cloying, making him gag with each breath.

"No, Maryse has given me more room to run than I deserve," Magnus said, and his teeth flashed gleaming white in the gloom. "Probably more than what's wise." The warlock sighed and gave Alec a heartbroken grimace. I have to. I have to. I have to. It's easier this way. "It's you, Alec."

"Did I do something in my sleep that I don't remember?" Alec asked, cocking his head to the side, trying to joke. It didn't work, his weak humor falling flat and leaving them both more anxious than before. "Did I drool?"

"You didn't do anything in your sleep," Magnus said, gritting his teeth together. It was harder than he had thought it would be, harder than he'd planned for. The words stuck in his throat, weighed heavy on his chest. It was nearly impossible to force them out. "It's something you will do."

Alec's eyebrows pulled together, his mouth opening and then closing. Lines appeared on his face that made him appear older, worn out, beaten. Magnus' heart throbbed painfully, making him bite back a gasp. I have no choice. "I…don't follow," Alec said finally, the scrunched up appearance falling from his face, just a series of faint creases as a reminder.

"You'll grow out of me." The words seemed to echo in the sprawling room, growing softer, fainter, until they were nothing more than a memory that pounded on the inside of Magnus' skull. There's no other way.

Alec wanted to scream. It wouldn't have been out of place if he had. Everything hurt, a deep, nearly unbearable ache that pulsed with his heartbeat, bathing him in waves of fire. But it wasn't why his teeth tingled with the effort of biting back a cry.

Magnus had to be joking. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. Alec tried to meet the warlock's gaze, but it was like trying to catch smoke. Close enough that he could feel it on his skin before it slipped all too easily away. He had to be joking.

But there was nothing joking about the way he held himself. Shoulders hunched, head ducked, fists clenched in his lap. Alec could see the over-tight muscles in his arms through the material of his jacket. Everything about him screamed of suffering, of pain, of reluctance. But there was nothing to hint that what he said was anything but the complete and utter truth.

"What?" Alec said finally, his voice quiet even in his own ears.

The tendons in the warlock's neck tensed. "Don't act stupid because I know you aren't," he hissed, and for the first time Alec saw a part of Magnus he wished he hadn't. It was a cold part, made of ice and broken glass. There was no amber sparkle to warm his piercing stare. Only irritation. But then it faded and Magnus looked worse for wear, dull. "I'm a phase, Alec, always have been. You'll grow up. I won't. No matter how much I wish I could change things, I can't. It's the way it is."

Alec thought he might break in half. The pain that tore at him had nothing to do with the physical. Or maybe it did. It felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest and tossed to the floor, leaving a ragged bloodstained wound. "Why are you doing this?" he gasped, his fingers tightening on the sheets. He needed something to hold, something to control. "Can't we enjoy what time we have? I mean, I'm not saying you're wrong, but can't we try? Maybe there's something we could do…"

Magnus cut him off with a shake of his head. "There's nothing, Alexander. Nothing we can do. Nine hundred years I have walked this earth and never have I found a way to keep everything I love from fading away. I can't watch you grow up. I won't." There was a finality to his tone that made tears well in Alec's eyes. No, he thought, biting down on his lip. I won't cry, I won't.

"Magnus," he breathed. "Please—"

Before Alec could blink, Magnus was on his feet and looming over him, his hand outstretched and cradling a piece of crumpled notebook paper, covered in dark scrawl. It landed on his lap, bouncing away to rest against his hand. "Here's the contact information for another warlock," Magnus said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "He lives just a few blocks away."

Magnus started to walk towards the door, his shoes making next to no sound on the tile.

"Wait!" Alec cried, struggling to get out of bed. Pain ripped through his chest and he fell back, clutching his stomach, the tears he had fought to keep away streaming unbound down his cheeks. He saw Magnus flinch, concern flickering in his glowing eyes.

"Take care of yourself, Alec," the warlock said as he eased the door open with a creak and a metallic rattle. "Please."

"What does it matter to you?" Alec hissed. It came out angrier than he intended, but he didn't regret it. It felt good to rage. He was rewarded by a sad look on Magnus' face, gone as quick as it had come.

"I love you," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Alec did scream then, the sound of it reverberating against the walls and booming in his ears. It made his head ache.

Raising a hand, Alec swatted at the picture on the nightstand, reveling in the satisfying ring and crunch of shattering glass, relishing every ding in the delicate frame. Reaching for the fold of paper, he tore the corner, letting the curl fall to the sheets.

He fell asleep an hour later, wreathed in paper scraps and fast drying tears.

Don't kill me. Please. I'm begging you. I honestly think this is what would happen. Cross my heart and hope to die. Crap, no, I didn't mean that! Don't shoot! This isn't the end of Alec and Magnus! I promise!