04: Aphasia
Raphael's departure leaves them strung up with furyand uncertainty, the residue of what has been said still settling in and around them. Neither pays attention when Jace mutters an excuse to go after the vampire. They stand apart, bodies taut and faces grim, fists clenched and trembling by their sides. Alec awaits the first hit which will dictate the entire quarrel, refusing to pull the trigger but craving the bullet, aching for a fight.
"I don't like him," Magnus finally says. Alec almost laughs.
"He saved my life."
"He had an entirely selfish reason for doing so."
"So do you."
"Desire is not the same as lo-" Magnus stops himself; it's an antebellum and a relief. The surrendered first syllable may not be as big as a whole admission, but it is strong enough to set aflame the bubbling anger in Alec's stomach. Fear clots his veins and his pulse turns erratic until the only sound he can hear is the rush of blood through his temples.
"I don't like the way he's looking at you," Magnus averts with a quiet, subdued tone Alec can barely hear through his surging panic.
"And I don't like Will, Camille and Helena." The names sear his tongue.
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"It's got to do with you," Alec snaps, one hand weakly gesturing at Magnus and the space between them.
"I don't see the problem," Magnus tells him. "I'm with you."
"I don't see the problem, either." Alec barely keeps himself from lashing out. "Raphael was just looking."
"He wasn't just looking, Alec."
"And were you just dating them?" Magnus' eyes widen at Alec's tone and implication. "How many of 'them' are there?"
"Do you honestly expect someone as old as I," Magnus steps closer, looming over Alec and effectively enhancing what was an insubstantial height difference before. Only there are more than just a few centimeters between them now- there is jealousy and juvenile stubbornness, biting words and fervid flames of anger. There are centuries and a tally of bloodshed and hate to outlast them both. "-to live for centuries without falling in love?" Alec knows he shouldn't, really, yet he does. He expects a perfectly white tabula-rasa, and cannot, for the life of him, rationalize or regret it. "It only stands to logic that I have fallen for others before you."
"How many times have you fallen 'before me', exactly?"
"Enough." Magnus eyes are bright and determined, open and clear like a summer sky. "I am centuries old, Alec. You are barely eighteen and I met you already infatuated with someone else."
"Don't you dare go there-" Magnus' eye light at the implied threat.
"How's Jace any different?" he demands. Alec sucks in a breath. It's the first time someone has been so direct about his dirtiest secret since Clary. Rage festers inside him rapidly, demanding immediate release. He doesn't know what to say though, no response lying on the tip of his tongue, no quick fire to retaliate with.
"I think Jace's is a much bigger problem than any of my exes."
"Stop it," Alec demands, nearly growling. "Stop."
"Why should I?" There's arrogance in that statement, the confidence one feels when righteousness befalls him, when anger turns into indignity. Alec can't find a good enough reason other than 'I want you to', though he is certain they are well past considering hurt a good enough reason to stop.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, that's too bad, darling, because we're going to."
"We're not," Alec practically barks.
"Not talking about it is not going to make it go away, Alec." Magnus' eyes darken. "Jace-"
"I said don't."
Magnus' mouth clicks shut. "So it's alright to talk about me but not about you?"
Alec doesn't know what to tell him; Jace is an issue he can barely admit to having, much less discuss with his boyfriend. He's the unresolved dirty laundry he's been keeping and hiding from the maid. He's the 'Do Not Touch- Fragile' stamp across his forehead. He's what Magnus can't and should not approach.
"There's talking about me, and then there's talking about that," he says, as if it'd make sense to anyone but him. Magnus frowns at him.
"It's the same thing."
"No," Alec shakes his head. "It isn't," because he doesn't want to believe it is, because he's always treated it like a benign tumor radiation can't fight, a separate evil that has nothing to do with who Alexander Lightwood is or supposed to be.
The door opens and shuts discretely enough, but Alec is anxious for any excuse to cut the conversation short. He doesn't wait for Jace to enter the kitchen, just bites out, "He's here," and bolts. Jace quirks an eyebrow when Alec storms into his line of vision, but doesn't ask anything. Alec's out the door on the first syllable of Jace's, "What's up with him?".
The stairway is cold and dark, but Alec doesn't bother with the light. He settles halfway between the first and second floor, leaning against the wall and listening to the people bustling about behind it; there's family with a newborn right behind him. He can hear it crying, though the sound is faint through the thick wall and easy enough to ignore. Silence takes over quickly, but the uproar in his mind does not yield to the relative peace of Alec's surroundings.
The turmoil of emotion does not cease even as time goes by. The hurt look in Magnus' eyes is firmly stuck to Alec's eyelids, his words ricocheting in Alec's skull and emptying his lungs of their oxygen.
Jace is a much bigger problem, Magnus has said. In the oppressive silence, Alec is willing to admit he is right. Admission, however, does not provide him with a solution, but with a bigger headache. His head throbs with vigor- persistent, relentless. For a while, it serves as a distraction from his thoughts: from Jace and Magnus, from Magnus' previous lovers and from them and their relationship.
He doesn't realize he's dozed off until Jace trips on his legs and lands a few stairs down with a crash.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jace asks.
"Where did you think I was?" it takes Alec a few moments to realize it wasn't him Jace was out looking for. "What are you doing here?"
"Can you pretend I am looking for you?" Jace seems desperate.
"No." Alec replies. Because you never do. "What are you doing here? I thought the deal was you not going anywhere without Magnus."
"It was." Jace's eyes shift to look at the darkness of the floor below them. "He doesn't know I'm out."
"How come?"
"The wards are down," he makes a gesture with his hand. "Because of the potion. Apparently it takes some mojo to concoct it."
Alec nods. "That makes sense."
Silence follows Alec's statement. Jace narrows his eyes. "Are you going to tell him?" he asks, because they both know the most Alec can do without the help of his marks is play rat. He's not nearly fast or strong enough to stop Jace from going if he so desires.
"It depends on where you're going," Alec says, though he knows he won't say a word. He thought Jace knew that too.
"Valentine." At Alec's confused look, Jace elaborate, "I'm going to see Valentine."
Alec gapes at him. "What?" he practically hollers. Jace moves, lightning-fast, and clasps his hand over Alec's mouth. Alec waits for his heart to explode. It doesn't. Jace lets Alec go a few moments later with warning clear in his eyes.
"What?" Alec repeats. His tone is hushed. "Why?"
"I'm not going to join him or anything."
"I know that," Jace's eyes widen at the conviction in Alec's voice. Alec doesn't get why he seems so surprised. "I asked you why you are going, not what you're not gonna do when you get there."
"I need to talk to him," Jace admits grudgingly.
"What on earth do you want to talk to him about?"
Jace's voice turns defensive. "He's my father."
"He's also an asshole."
Jace eyes harden and he glares. He opens his mouth to protest but shuts it before the words have a chance of escaping. He can't deny what is clearly the truth. "I need to talk to him," he maintains instead.
"You can't." Jace bristles at that. Alec gives him a stern look. "Jace, the Inquisitor is after you. It won't be wise to piss her off."
"She won't know," Jace insists sullenly and tucks his hands into his pockets. He lifts his gaze and eyes Alec carefully. "Unless you tell her, that is."
Alec knows better than to rise to the bait. "You know I won't." Though he doesn't act as though he does. "It's still stupid though."
"It's not," Jace says as he gets up. Alec follows.
"Yes, it is." Alec blocks the stairwell bodily. Jace's lips twist in distaste. "He's a murderer, Jace. He's been killing Downworlders for some sick ritual for months now. He might kill you. He almost did once." Alec levels Jace's furious stare. "Don't go to him. It won't end well."
"Move." Alec doesn't. He's taller than Jace, and his arm span is just wide enough to prevent him from going through. "Move."
"No."
"Alec," Jace growls in warning. "Let me through."
"You're not going anywhere." Alec remains stationary, feet firmly planted on the ground.
"You can't stop me," Jace grumbles, but doesn't move to push Alec away.
"Unless you want to push me down the stairs, I think you're out of options." Jace's gaze hardens, but Alec doesn't feel inclined to feel fear. He knows Jace won't do it and judging from Jace's expression- so does he.
Jace pulls one hand out of his pocket to clutch at Alec's shirt, intent on pulling him away from the stairs. His hand leaves a bloody imprint on Alec's chest. Alec grabs Jace's wrist before he has the chance to throw him against the wall.
"What's that?" there are cuts along Jace's palm, two of them quite deep. Jace shrugs and shakes Alec away. He puts his hand back in his pocket and gets out a small shard of mirror.
"I cut myself," he says, but doesn't let Alec see the bloodied mirror. He is clutching on to it as if it's a lifeline he can't bear to lose.
"You are not going anywhere," Alec tells him as Jace takes another step forward. When Jace tries to push him, Alec grabs his wrist again. Jace is faster, though, and his calf is already behind his. Alec is falling on his back before he has enough time to kick Jace away. So he takes Jace down with him, pulling his wrist, and the small mirror shatters between their bodies and the floor. Jace gives Alec a poisonous glare that is icy cold, yet blazing. He doesn't say anything as he gets up, but Alec can read it on his face- the hurt for something he doesn't fully understand the extent of.
Jace steps over Alec's fallen form briskly, fading into the shadows before Alec has the chance to apologize or stop him. He doesn't look back once. Displaced rage fills Alec to the brim, his whole body trembling with it so bad he can barely move. Doesn't want to. So he lies there, catching his breath and suppressing the overwhelming childish notion to curl into a fetal position on the floor by the door of apartment number six. This has to stop, he thinks, over and over. I can't keep doing this, but he doesn't know how to stop.
Alec leaves not long after Jace's exit, following the urge to get away.
The streets are surprisingly quiet. He stays out of the alleyways, walking briskly under the harsh light of the streetlamps, not once straying into the shadows. He knows he won't be able to fight what he might encounter there.
It's an area of New York he isn't terribly familiar with, but the structure of the city enables him to navigate easily enough. He comes across the right neighborhood quicker than he thought. He doesn't know the exact address, but he figures he has the whole night to go from door to door looking for the surname Lewis. He doesn't plan on meeting Simon, not really, doesn't plan to fight, or apologize or yell- just search, walk the length of the street until the sun goes up.
He doesn't have to. He meets Simon on the porch of the seventh house, and they are both surprised at the encounter.
Simon looks well for someone who's been dead not a week ago. He's pale, but it's the kind of white one can attribute to a severe lack of sun rather than demon energy infused with human blood. His face looks the same- if slightly sharper, a tad more defined at the angles. The only noteworthy change, Alec reckons, is the startling lack of glasses. He figures it makes sense.
Simon opens his mouth, but Alec beats him to it. "Do you hate me?"
"No," Simon shakes his head. Alec's guts unknot and his shoulders slump visibly in relief. It's good to hear- the answer he wasn't expecting but secretly hoping for without knowing why a negative would be so important.
"Good," Alec lets out a deep sigh and a slight smile. "Can we not talk?"
"But we are."
"Can we not talk about why I'm here, not wanting to talk?"
"Sure," Simon nods and gets up. He must have seen something on Alec's face because he opens the door to his house next and gestures for Alec to get inside. "It's warmer inside, and there's pizza." His tone is purposefully soft, gentle even- as if Alec's an animal he doesn't want to scare away. "Did something happen with Jace?"
"That'd be talking," Alec says far more harshly than he's intended. Simon frowns.
"Fair enough," he concedes after a brief pause, nodding, concern still etched on his features. They enter the empty living room and Simon turns on the lights. It seems comfortable enough. Comfortable and empty. Alec wonders if it's his place to ask about Simon's family.
"My mother's on a nightshift," Simon explains without being prompted, his voice wavering. "She doesn't know," he says in way of explaining, settling back on the sofa in the middle of the room, gesturing towards the couch. Alec sits.
"It's been a week," Alec says and trails off. He doesn't ask, giving Simon the option to avoid the subject altogether.
"She isn't terribly invested in me," Simon replies. Alec can relate. Simon's eyes focus somewhere above Alec's head when he adds, "I've been 'staying at Clary's' for the past couple of days. I'm planning on feigning the flu next."
"What'll you do after that?"
Simon remains quite for some time before muttering, "I don't know." He looks up at Alec with a sheepish grin, "Can we not talk?"
Alec nods. "Sure."
They keep silent for the first hour, content with the solace television has to offer. Alec finds the quiet oddly comforting, numbing even- an undemanding atmosphere in which words are unneeded and unwelcome. The couch is comfortable, and for a while, Alec's brain shuts up and shuts down. He sleeps. Simon remains awake to watch cartoons in a language Alec does not understand but finds lulling.
He wakes up four hours later, but it's already closer to dawn. Simon's half sprawled on the sofa next to him, but his eyes are open and troubled.
"You're Jace's bestie, right?" he asks. Alec snorts in response.
"That's one way to sum up my problems, yes," he replies and awaits Simon's forthcoming question. He knows there is one.
"He's still in love with Clary, right?"
Alec doesn't even have to mull that one over. He forgets his tact, firing a harsh yes, unsure which of them it might hurt more, not quite caring either.
Simon nods. "Do you think she is?"
"You know her better than I do."
The expression on Simon's face is unreadable. "Sometime, I don't think I do."
Alec has nothing to say to that. They aren't close enough to disclose this sort of information yet, and although he wants to respond with 'Sometimes, I don't think I know myself either', he reckons it's a bit much and way too soon. He settles for a noncommittal grunt.
"I'll risk our newfound friendship's boundaries here and ask: do you think I have a chance?"
Alec blinks in surprise at the 'friendship' card thrown in so carelessly. He looks at Simon's expression- the earnest twist of his mouth and the darkness beneath his eyes- and figures it's only a big deal because Alec's making it one. He sometimes forgets friendship is not exclusive to family members. "I don't think I'm qualified to answer that. Relationships aren't my forte," he tells Simon truthfully.
"Humor me."
"I don't think you do," Alec tells him bluntly after a pause. "They are so obsessed with each other there's little room for anyone else." It is probably the first time he has admitted that, to himself and to someone else. He's not sure how he feels about that.
Simon slumps down and scowls. "Life sucks," he concludes. Alec nods slowly in agreement.
"Sorry for ruining yours," Alec offers cautiously. Simon looks confused. "Sorry that you've died because of me," Alec clarifies.
Simon rolls his eyes, but his lips thin ruefully, his expression now a tad harder. "If I had known you'd end up feeling guilty over it I wouldn't have asked you to come." His eyes are determined when he adds, "It's not your fault." As if he expects Alec to believe that.
Alec doesn't. So he tries again, picking through the unused words he never had uttered in search of the proper ensemble of an apology.
"It is. I am sorry I let you die."
Simon's groan is one of utter exasperation. "I'm sorry I asked you without revealing the details," he shoots back. "It was insensitive."
Alec narrows his eyes. "I'm sorry I never asked for details. It was stupid."
Simon's voice is tight when he says, "I'm sorry I didn't bother checking what the curse was all about," It's not your fault the undercurrent to his words Alec doesn't wish to hear.
"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough." Judging from his expression, Simon can hear the Yes, it is.
"I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough."
"I'm sorry I didn't try harder."
"I'm sorry I thought you won't care." Simon buries his head in a pillow with a deep sigh like a white flag. "We sound like a Sara Bareilles song."
"I'm sorry I have no idea who that is." Simon throws the pillow at him. Alec snickers, but it's a weak, choppy sound, and the smile doesn't reach anywhere near his eyes.
"And your 'Let's Not Talk' plan goes straight out the window."
Alec nods slightly.
"If I don't think it's your fault, it's what counts, right?" Simon remains hopeful. Alec doesn't want to tell him it doesn't, only he does, but knows better than to try. "Since I'm the allegedly wounded party."
"I'm still sorry."
"And I still think you have nothing to be sorry about."
"You're a vampire because of me; I'd say that's something." Simon's shoulders stiffen, but he doesn't lift his face from the cushions.
"I'm a vampire because I was an idiot," Simon's reply is slightly muffled, but it rings strong in the uncomfortable silence. "I'm a vampire because I tried a shady drink in a warlock's party, got turned into a rat and bit a vampire." His voice acquires a defeated note when he mumbles, "I'm a vampire because I was stupid enough to return to their den and think I will get out alive."
"I was supposed to help you with that."
"Stop blaming yourself, it's stupid and it hurts my brain."
Alec snorts but doesn't reply. Simon lifts his head to deliver a pensive look, his eyes hooded. "It's not your fault. You're smart enough to know that without me having to drill it in." Just then, Simon sounds like his father. Alec's back stiffens automatically, the yessir on the tip of his tongue, practically out. He seeks the lie in Simon's eyes but finds nothing but genuine concern and the need to reach out. He nods curtly, and that's that.
"Do you mind closing the blinds?" Simon asks, pressing his head to the sofa cushions against the light. They have nothing more to discuss. Alec does as he's asked. There are two windows in the living room, one in the kitchen. The apartment dims with each closed window, and when the last one is shut- Simon is out cold.
Alec settles on the sofa with his knees bent up to his chin, folded like a child. He takes out his phone and texts how was the hunt? hope u r alright when all he really wants to say is I miss you and today was shit.
There's no answer.
It's four in the morning- the night's over. Alec truly wants to believe that.
x
"I can't believe she said that," Simon grumbles as they head toward Luke's. "She owes you an apology the size of J-lo's ass."
Alec gives him a sidelong glance. He doesn't see the point in arguing. "She was upset. It's understandable."
"You just think she's right." Simon turns on him. "She's not. It wasn't your fault and she has no right blaming you."
Alec doesn't reply. "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking-" Simon scowls at him as they round another corner. He sounds like the lovechild of Izzy's bad temper and Magnus' exasperation. "Stop it."
Alec sighs. With another turn, they finally make it to Luke's block. The house itself is further up and the street's quiet, East River humming to their left, a thousand suns reflected on its smooth surface. There's a warm, yellow tint cast on everything nearby, houses and trees set afire with the progress of twilight. The evening is colder than it's meant to be. Alec's gloves are ultimately useless.
They approach the house just as Luke's car stops by it and Clary's opening the door. Luke waves at them, says something to Clary and speeds away. She remains standing there, awkwardly waiting for them both to come closer.
"I'm sorry," she says as soon as they're close enough to hear. Her eyes remain fixed on the dirty pavement, and she's biting her lip and fidgeting something awful. When Alec doesn't reply, she lifts her eyes to meet his, and repeats, "I am so sorry for what I've said."
"And I didn't even have to do anything," Simon mutters under his breath.
Alec remains silent. Clary stares at him, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her shirt. "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have said what I did."
Simon tries to disguise 'true' in a cough. Clary scowls. "Just because I don't have super-hearing doesn't mean I can't hear you."
She doesn't seem perturbed by his innocent, unoffending stare. He shifts his expression to sheepish, but doesn't offer an apology. She turns to Alec again, but has nothing more to say than what she has already. She awaits an answer, acceptance or rejection for an apology she's been almost too late in delivering.
"Okay," is Alec's reply, a vague enough response that neither confirms he has forgiven her nor one to reject her heartfelt attempt completely. He doesn't feel angry or hurt; detached from the whole experience from the moment she's opened her door and yelled accusation in his face. She nods, a slight, timid smile spreading across her lips.
"I'll make it up to you, Alec," Clary says. "I promise."
Alec nods. Her smile grows wider. She mouths 'thank you, sorry' again, before turning to Simon. They reach the porch, and while the two of them decide to sit on the stairs, he remains standing by the bushes in the entryway, far enough so he won't hear a word.
The air gets colder as the sun sets further beneath the sea. Colors dim about him, saturation lost as evening arrives to claim its rightful place. The road is deserted and the breeze is cold. The only figure in the distance seems unthreatening and distinctively human. As the distance grows smaller, the hazy blur turns into a girl- her hair braided, skin dark.
Alec hears the noise before he sees its source. The girl is down in an instant, the flickering image of a demon above her. Drevak, he thinks, instinctively running to rescue a stranger when all he can really do in his condition is shout at the demon, and maybe poke it. He can hear Clary screaming something behind him; when he gets to the girl and the demon, Simon's baffled self is on his left, saying something Alec can't hear over the rush of blood in his ears.
The demon veers on them, snapping his jaws with a hiss. The sound reverberates in Alec's ribcage, slowly traveling from the ground to his bones. The poisonous needles in the Drevak's mouth shine in the faint light, numerous and sharp. It jumps.
Alec falls on his back before the demon hits him, rolling to the left and out of its reach. Simon screams. Alec doesn't care. He moves without knowing what his next step might be and it's exhilarating. He can almost forget he's lost a quarter of his marks in the past week, that he can't even see the thing properly, and just fight.
The demon lunges again, following his scent like an animal. It's a near hit. Its weigh shoves Alec onto the ground, but its jaws are nowhere near his body; luck's on his side. He lands by the fallen girl, but her eyes are glazed and she seems too out of it to inquire for her health and receive an answer.
Alec springs to his feet when he feels the air move next to him, the beast shuffling on the grass. He moves away from the girl, trying to get the demon as far away from her as he can.
One of the needles has grazed him, leaving a superficial mark on his cheek. Alec recoils.
"What the fuck is it?" he hears Simon scream.
"Find something to hit it with," Alec shouts back before attempting to lead the demon away from its previous prey. It remains hot on his heels throughout the whole run, occasionally trying a pounce. They are three blocks over, but there's no sign of Simon.
He's not fast enough. He knows that, but as the Drevak demon sinks its needles somewhere in the vicinity of his neck, he gets just how much slower he got. Alec falls onto the hard, cold ground and screams as the poison hits his system, flowing with his blood, burning in his veins.
It feels like forever before the demon is off. A voice asks him if he's alright, but he doesn't recognize its owner- the face above him a blur, the world in general a haze.
He blacks out soon after, wondering if that's how he's going to die.
A/N:
Aphasia- People with Wernicke's aphasia may speak in long sentences that have no meaning, add unnecessary words, and even create made-up words. People suffering from the disease may intend to say "My head hurts" but say "I want smooth cat" instead, without being aware the words don't mean what they want to express. In this chapter it's meant to represent the communication breakdown Alec's experiencing with, well, everyone.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)
Excerpt from next chapter: He drifts and forgets, waking up an hour later, and several times after that- screaming.