Hi, everyone! So this chapter has been trimmed and cut a bit short since I was crunched for time. It moves along quite quickly. Please remember that I am writing an alternate ending. Please don't hate me too much. I hope there are some tears as well as a slight sense of satisfaction for this one! Enjoy! Thanks for reading!

I was unsure of how much time had passed since Magnus had been taken by the paramedics. For a long while I had simply sat on the floor, staring at the dark puddle of blood as my body went through alternating fits of shivering and stillness. Then I'd felt the burning at the back of my eyes. At first only a few tears had leaked out, then the dam completely burst and all I could do was hold my head in my hands as I sobbed violently. When there were no tears left to cry, I picked myself up off the floor and headed into the bedroom. The shock of what had just happened still lingered in my system and it jumbled my thoughts, creating a haze inside my head. Frustrated, I ran my hand down the side of my face and back up into my hair.

I need. . . to go somewhere. Where did Magnus go? I need. . . the hospital! I need to go to the hospital.

I paused after taking a step. My gaze drifted downward to my clothes. My jeans from the knees down were soaked in blood and my shirt and jacket were decorated with dark red splatter. With jittery hands I stripped out of my clothes and slid on some fresh ones. The gun I'd hid in the back of my jeans glinted in the light as I held it in my palm, debating what to do with it. My brain told me to hide it, to leave it behind in the apartment. But my hand slid it back to its original hiding spot at the small of my back. Without another thought, I raced out of the apartment and down the stairwell to the lobby.

It took several agonizing minutes before I could hail a cab. When one finally pulled over, I all but threw myself into the backseat. The driver stared at me, wide-eyed, in his rear view mirror as I instructed him to take me to the hospital. When he asked me which one, I could barely restrain myself from crying. I did not know which hospital they had taken Magnus to.

Suddenly, with shocking clarity, I recollected the patch on one of the paramedics' uniforms. I repeated the name to the driver and curled into the back seat, not bothering with my seatbelt and instead drawing my knees up to my chest. I tapped my fingers against my thigh anxiously as I stared out the window, inwardly cursing the slow-moving traffic.

As the driver pulled into the drop off area, I reached for my wallet. The driver, still wide-eyed, shook his head and waved his hand, urging me to get out of his cab. I thanked him and threw open the door, racing for the entrance. People hastily jumped out of the way as I stormed through the hospital to the emergency department. When I reached the front desk, the nurse sitting behind it slowly rose from her chair as she looked at me.

"I'm looking for Magnus Bane," I panted.

"Sir, your face—"

"I need to know where they took Magnus," I said, irritated.

Just like the cab driver's, the nurse's eyes were large and round. I noticed that the people around me had given me a wide berth, but I remained oblivious to the fear emanating from their cores. The nurse snuck a quick glance to her left, and when I followed her gaze I saw a security guard slowly making his way over.

I shook my head and pleaded, hysterical, "I'm not crazy. I just need to know where they took Magnus! Please!"

Just before the security guard could reach me, another nurse came up behind the one at the desk and placed a hand on her arm. "It's all right. The medics said this one might be coming in."

The new nurse, a petite redhead with green eyes, slipped out from behind the desk and gently steered me off to the side, away from the eyes and ears of other people. The security guard kept his distance, though his eyes stayed keenly on me. I bounced on the balls of my feet.

"Are you the one from the apartment shooting?" the nurse asked.

"Magnus got shot," I said, feeling the backs of my eyes burn again.

The nurse, Clary according to her nametag, nodded and stared up at me calmly. "What's your name?"

"I'm. . ." My mind went blank and I felt a burst of panic. "I-I don't know."

"It's all right," Clary said. "Can you just take a deep breath for me please?"

I inhaled shakily and let out a long breath when she instructed me to do so. Clary nodded approvingly and repeated the same question.

"Alex," I replied. "I'm Alex."

"Okay, Alex. I know the nurses are trying to contact Magnus's family but there's no one left to get a hold of. Are you his next of kin?"

"I'm. . . I'm his boyfriend."

Clary smiled empathetically. "I'll take you upstairs, Alex. But let's stop by the bathroom first."

"I don't need the bathroom."

"Just take a few minutes to collect yourself, all right?"

I nodded and let her lead me around the corner to the bathroom. She waited outside respectfully as I walked in. One glimpse of myself in the mirror and I realized why I'd created such a scene: blood was smeared from my chin to my forehead on the right side of my face. Half of my hair stood up on end, crusted with blood. Even my hands were still stained dark red. I'd been in such a frenzy to leave to apartment that I hadn't given any thought to washing myself up.

I turned on the tap and slathered my hands with soap before furiously trying to scrub them clean. The water became increasingly hot and my skin was raw from the scrubbing, but I was too numb to feel any of it. When my hands were decently clean, I scooped up some water and splashed it onto my face. The murderer gradually faded from the mirror's reflection, but the guilt remained coiled deep inside me.

Clary led me from the bathroom up to the third floor. She did not speak along the way, which I was thankful for. I could see a small waiting area up ahead, but Clary put her hand on my arm and stopped me.

"They've taken Magnus in for emergency surgery. I don't know how long they'll be, but you're welcome to wait as long as you'd like."

"Is he going to be all right?"

Clary smiled encouragingly. "I'll let the surgeon know you're here. She'll keep you posted."

I seated myself in the waiting area as Clary made for the OR. There were a couple others sitting in chairs around me, reading magazines or fiddling with their phones. None of them seemed particularly worried. I, on the other hand, sat on the edge of my chair, my knee bouncing up and down. Magnus's life hung in the balance mere feet away from me, and if he fell over the edge, so would I.

Hours ticked by and one by one the other occupants began to disperse. Every time a doctor stepped into the waiting room, I was ready to leap out of my chair and beg for more information on Magnus. But he or she always called a different name, and a smiling face was led off in another direction. I was alone, my fingers interlaced and pressed against my lips as though I was praying, when I heard a soft voice.

"Excuse me?"

I jumped, startled by the surgeon suddenly at my side. My eyes had been closed and I hadn't heard her approach. I hesitated before rising to my feet, terrified of what she was about to say. Her face was stoic, impossible to read.

"Are you Alex?"

"I am."

The surgeon nodded. "The bullet that hit Magnus shattered upon impact. The fragments travelled to several different places in his body. One of them punctured his lung and collapsed it."

"Okay," I said, my knees wobbling.

"Another fragment grazed his heart. We were able to stop the bleeding—"

"Is he. . ." I felt my eyes brimming with tears. "Is he okay?"

The surgeon sighed. "I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

It felt as though she'd punched me in the chest. The breath rushed out of me in a gust. I lost my balance and had to use the wall to steady myself. My knees threatened to give out beneath me. I wanted to collapse onto the floor and cry, but I forbade myself from drowning in grief.

"Can I see him?" I whispered.

She paused. "In most cases you'd have to wait. . .but I can give you a few minutes. I'll be right back."

The surgeon left me briefly before returning. She escorted me into the next wing and to the OR door. She gave her condolences for my loss and left to give me privacy. I paused with my hand on the door, steeling myself for what was to come next, before pushing it open.

Magnus lay on the operating table, everything except his neck and head covered by a sheet. I choked back a sob as I approached. They'd cleaned him up a bit, removing evidence of blood and any medical tubes, as well as turning off all the equipment. But despite their best efforts, it still did not look like Magnus on the table. His skin was too pale. His lips did not have the curved hint of a smile he wore while he slept. Even his posture was wrong: he was positioned exactly like a dead body, not like the man who always lay with an arm tossed behind his head or draped across his stomach. I knew the doctors had positioned him like that with the greatest respect, but it felt as though they'd slapped me across the face, beating into me the reality that Magnus was gone.

I stopped a few steps short of the table and stared down at the floor, unsure of what to say. Or even if I should say anything at all. This was where I was supposed to say goodbye. Part of me wanted to turn and run, but that would be the greatest disrespect to Magnus and would later become my greatest remorse.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," I whispered. "When I met you, I knew my life was going to change. Was I scared? I was terrified. I thought my shithole of a life was going to get worse. But it didn't. I thought about you more than I should have. You made my heart race, Magnus, but in a good way. I never felt excited about waking up and being able to see someone until I met you. I never felt excited or brave enough to live my own life until I met you. You made the fear go away, Magnus. You wrapped me in your arms and enveloped me in your bravery, in your kindness.

"I know you told me you were scared that you were changing me. I countered that you were unleashing me, bringing to light a new side of me. I think we were both wrong, Magnus. I think you were the first person to let me be myself. Everyone in my life has been shaping me into a version of myself I was supposed to be. But you. . . you just let me be. You didn't make me be perfect around you, but you always made me feel flawless. I never felt so loved and I can't thank you enough for that, Magnus."

My voice broke and I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. Shakily, I closed the distance between Magnus and I. My hand trembled as I tentatively reached up to stroke his hair and cup his cool cheek.

"We were supposed to move away together. You were going to go to university, and I was going to be in the audience the day you got your degree. I wanted you to kiss me senseless an infinite amount of times. . ." I let out a choked laugh. "You were finally going to eat that damn chocolate bar I gave you."

I watched Magnus's face, desperately holding on to the hope that he would open his eyes or the corner of his mouth would curve into a crooked smile. But he was still. He was gone, far away from me.

"I'm sorry, Magnus. I'm so goddamn sorry. I never wanted this to happen. Forgive me for what I'm about to say next: If I said I wished I'd never stumbled into your path so you'd be alive right now, I'd be lying. It's so goddamn selfish of me, but I will never wish I hadn't met you, Magnus. You were the best part of my life. I wish you were here with me now, but I am so thankful for the memories you have given me. I will never forget you or what you did for me. You gave me my life back. You unchained me."

Without shame, I bent down and pressed my lips against Magnus's. They lacked their usual warmth and there was no pressure pushing back against my own, but I held myself there for a moment. When I pulled back, I wiped my thumb over his cheekbone, erasing one of my tears that had fallen onto his skin.

"I love you, Magnus. I love you."

I reluctantly turned away and wiped my eyes with my sleeve, then I left the OR without saying goodbye.

My apartment had been turned into a crime scene for the remainder of the night. A cluster of investigators had greeted me when I'd arrived. An officer had taken me aside, requesting an interview. I'd told him I'd come down to the station the next afternoon, claiming that it was not a good time. He'd taken one look at my exhausted, teary-eyed face and agreed. He'd given me his card with a meeting time scrawled on the back. I'd waited in the hallway for another hour while they finished up and left.

I now sat on the sofa, arms circled around my knees as I stared out the window at nothing in particular. It was too quiet in the apartment and too loud in my head to sleep. The puddle of blood was finally gone, but a large stain remained on the flooring. A blanket now not-so-subtly covered it.

My phone vibrated on the coffee table in front of me. I glared at it, debating letting it go to voicemail. I knew it was Jace without checking the caller ID. He'd been texting me nonstop since. . . the incident. I'd done everything from begging to using vulgar language to get him to leave me alone, but, evidently, I had not succeeded.

Angrily, I reached down and accepted the call. "I thought I told you to fuck off."

"Alec, would you just give me a minute—"

"I don't owe you anything, and you sure as shit don't deserve a minute of my time."

"I'm your brother."

I clenched my knee in my hand, barely containing my rage. "You are not my brother. You never were and you never will be."

"You deserve an explanation," Jace said, hurt.

I took no pity on him. "Don't call me again. The next time I see you, I will kill you." I hung up and threw my phone at the wall so hard the device shattered into pieces that rained down on the floor.

Jace was stubborn, and I knew he would not take my threat seriously. He was trying to convince me that I deserved an explanation. The reality of it? He wanted to give me some bullshit excuse to ease his own guilt and make himself feel better. He believed that with the right formula of words, he could convince me that his actions were for my best interest. And he thought that I was stupid enough to trust him. Why? Because I'd let him think I was stupid enough to trust him for years.

Sure as hell, there was a light knock half an hour later. I'd left the door unlocked after the police had left, unafraid that anyone else could hurt me any more than I already was. Heavy feet treaded across the floor and I heard someone sink onto the couch adjacent to me.

"Alec—" Jace began.

"I thought I warned you to stay away from me."

"Adopted or not, I'm still your brother. I've loved you for years, Alec. I'm not going to let you go that easily."

"You've known Magnus for years, yet you killed him without so much as a blink."

"I didn't love Magnus," Jace growled, then added more softly, "He was dangerous."

"To you," I scoffed.

He shook his head. "Obviously I can't justify my actions to you—"

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

"I'm here for you."

"What are you going to do? Drag me home to mom and dad?"

"No. I'm here for you."

My heart blazed as I realized what he was saying. Jace straightened as I leapt from the couch and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He looked into my eyes, unconcerned, as I stared daggers at him.

"Are you seriously saying you're here to comfort me after you murdered my boyfriend?"

He nodded. "Yes."

I punched him. I punched him so hard he slipped out of my grip and fell sideways onto the couch. He did not retaliate as I grabbed him and punched him again. After several blows, Jace was knocked onto the floor. He did not try to defend himself as I hit him, over and over. Both my left and right hands were screaming in pain but I did not stop. My cheeks were damp with tears but I did not stop. Jace's blood was splattered on the floor but I did not stop. Only when I was too wrung out, emotionally and physically, did I get off Jace and lean my back against the couch. I covered my eyes with my hand and cried.

Hands found my shoulders and tried to pull me forward. But they were not Magnus's hands. I screamed and wrenched out of Jace's grip. Jace hesitated before launching himself at me and enveloping me in an embrace. I struggled against him, thrashing mercilessly. He only held me tighter, and eventually I sagged against him, clutching onto his shirt and crying into his shoulder.

As the tears began to subside, I gently pushed Jace away and wiped my eyes. When I looked at him I noticed one of his eyes had swollen shut, his lip had split open, and his jaw was splotched with bruises. But there was no satisfaction in the pain I had caused him.

"I will always be here for you, Alec. I'll always protect you," Jace said, smiling faintly. "I always keep my promises."

I remained on the floor as Jace slowly got up. Memories came rushing back to me of all the times he had bailed on our plans, of all the secrets he had kept from me. The man standing before me was not my protector. He was a liar. He never kept any of his promises, and he never would.

But I did.

I got up from the floor and stared Jace in the eye. "So do I."

There was a brief flash of confusion in his eyes before I whipped out Magnus's gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Jace fell to the floor with a cry and I hunched over, groaning against the painful ringing in my ears. I glanced down at Jace and saw red blossoming over his abdomen. He moaned and placed his hand over the wound. My poor aim betrayed that I had never fired a weapon before, but there were still plenty of bullets.

I stepped over Jace's body and aimed the barrel directly at his head. Surprise and terror were evident in his golden eyes.

"Alec, please. . ." he whispered.

"This isn't the life I want for you," I said, my voice sounding cold and detached in my ears.

I pulled the trigger. There was another thunderous roar and Jace's head exploded. Blood, fluid, and bits of brain splashed across the floor. I knew the sight should have made me want to vomit, but once again I was too numb to feel anything.

Someone had most likely already notified the police of the gunfire, so I backed away from Jace's body and hurried into my bedroom. There was only one thing I wanted to do and I did not have much time. I would never survive in prison, and I no longer had a place in the society that was once my life. There was only one place I belonged.

Gun still in hand, I sat on the bed and closed my eyes. Hallways began to form around me. Gray hallways with flickering lights, closed doors, and empty bulletin boards. I was alone, but I should not have been. I stepped forward, gazing down the hall to where Magnus should have been. Confused, I turned around.

Magnus's sudden appearance was startling. He smiled down at me as I jumped, and brushed the backs of his fingers down the side of my face. The fluttering of my heart was replaced by familiar butterflies in my stomach. Magnus touched his palm to my cheek and I leaned into his hand. After softly touching my lips, he pulled his hand away. His smile still remained.

I drew in a long breath and raised my gun. "You like Russian Roulette?"

I placed the barrel under Magnus's jaw. Just like in my dream, he kept his eyes on mine, neither blinking nor flinching. When I pulled the trigger, I heard a sharp bang. Magnus still stood in front of me, smiling and unharmed. I felt a teardrop slide down my cheek as I placed the gun's cold metal under my own jaw. Magnus reached out and wiped the drop away with his thumb. His hand lingered against my cheek. My finger curled around the trigger as Magnus dipped his head closer to mine. I felt the warmth of his lips, the softness and the love behind the kiss. Everything else disappeared: the memories, the pain, the bite of the gun's metal. There was just the two of us.

In that moment, with our lips and our hearts connected, I pulled the trigger.

Bang.