Hey, guys and gals. As promised, here is the alternate ending to Crossfire. Don't be alarmed when you see the same beginning as the original. If you don't want to read it again, just scroll down a little bit and you'll find brand new stuff waiting for you. I hope this ending is to your satisfaction. I'd like to thank you all for reading this and leaving me such kind comments! Your support keeps me going. I have a new story coming soon. If you like thrillers, you're in for a treat. :) It's another Malec fic, of course. RandiGirl17 will also be writing an Infernal Devices fic soon, so check that out if you'd like. Thanks again, everyone! Enjoy.

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's eyes became grim. "Magnus's heart stopped several times throughout the surgery. He also suffered through multiple seizures."

"What does that mean?" I whispered, swiping angrily at the tears on my cheeks.

"The intermittent lack of oxygen has caused concern for brain damage."

I put my hand against the wall to steady myself. "Brain damage? H-how severe?"

"We won't know until we run more tests."

"No." I shook my head, willing the devastating news away. "Magnus is fine. He'll wake up and be the same person he's always been."

"Alex." The surgeon reached for my shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and pulled her hand back. "I'm afraid Magnus has slipped into a coma. I don't know when, or even if, he will wake up."

My legs collapsed under me and I sank into my chair. Every ounce of my strength vanished and I slouched forward, crying into my hands. I could feel the surgeon's presence beside me, but she made no move to comfort me. She waited patiently as I sobbed and wailed. When the tremors of grief finally began to subside, I rose onto shaky legs and looked her in the eyes.

"Can I see him?"

"He's being transported to the ICU." She paused for a moment, contemplating. "Give me five minutes and I'll take you to see him."

She turned away and disappeared down the hall. I dropped back into my chair and drew my legs up to my chest, hiding my face behind my knees. I wanted —needed— Magnus's arms wrapped around me, holding me close. But I did not know when I would feel the comfort of Magnus's embrace again. My brain rambled on, tossing out terrifying thoughts of paralysis and long-term amnesia. I did not know which was worse: having Magnus's shell but not his memories, or not having Magnus at all.

The surgeon finally returned and motioned for me to follow her. It took a couple attempts for me to lift myself out of the chair, but I soon followed her on weak legs. She steered me to the elevators wordlessly. On the next floor, she took me past the front desk, shaking her head at the nurse watching her with an inquisitive look. I shuffled on down a hallway and came to a stop at her side in front of a closed door. My hand reached for the handle, but froze before turning it.

Sensing my distress, the surgeon asked, "Is there anything I can get you, Alex? Someone I can call?"

I shook my head, blinking back more tears.

"Take as long as you need."

"Do you think," I said, stopping her mid-step, "I can stay the night? Just in case he wakes up."

Her smile was sympathetic. "I'll have a cot brought up for you."

I thanked her and listened to the softness of her retreating footsteps. Hushed voices could be heard at the end of the hall, but the sounds were jumbled with the blood pounding in my ears. After a deep breath, I turned the handle and pushed the door open.

It was all I could do not to collapse at the sight of him. His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed, but he did not appear as though he was simply sleeping. Magnus's essence was missing, lost among the various tubes snaking into his body and mechanical beeping and whirring. A breathing tube jutted out of his mouth. There was no faint trace of a smile on his lips, no fluttering to his dark eyelashes. A blanket was pulled up to his middle and his hands were at rest at his sides. He looked . . . posed, not peaceful.

After quietly closing the door, I stepped up to his bedside and gazed down upon him. My heart paused in my chest as I waited for him to sense me and open his eyes. When he remained immobile, I let out a shaky breath and reached for his hand. His skin was cool and dry against my own; it felt so . . . wrong that his fingers did not curl around mine.

Of the million things I wanted to say, all I managed was, "Hi, Magnus."

The rhythmic beeping on his heart monitor was the only response.

My voice wobbled as I struggled not to cry. "How do you manage to look this attractive while laying in a hospital bed?"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, but, not wanting to hurt Magnus, I grabbed a nearby chair instead. It let out a loud groan as I pulled it across the floor. I flinched at the abrupt and shrill noise but Magnus did not. Still clutching his hand, I sat down and traced small circles and lines across his fingers.

"You take as much time as you need to get better, Mags. But no flirting with the male nurses, okay?"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my free hand. "I can't say I'm sorry, Magnus, because that's not enough."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"I ruined everything. I'm the goddamn smear of ink on the calligraphy that is your life. I know that you would have been much better off never having met me, but I can't deny that stumbling across you was the greatest moment in my life. I was a slave to routine. . . and then you came along, this hidden truth inside the sham of my life."

My eyes found the IV jabbed into his other hand and followed the tube that led to the bag hanging above him.

"I don't know what's going to happen, Magnus. All I know is that I'm terrified and I need you. You have to fight this. For me. Please." I lifted his hand to my mouth and gently kissed his fingers. "I'm fighting for you. I'm not letting you go. I can't."

I struggled to open my eyes with the crust that had formed over them. My neck cracked as I looked around to get my bearings. I had fallen asleep on my arm, which was propped up on Magnus's bedrail. A cot had been set up only a few feet away, complete with blankets and pillows; my back and neck ached as soon as I saw it, but I made no move to leave Magnus's side.

A clock mounted on the wall told me it was just past six a.m. Stifling a yawn, I unwrapped my fingers from Magnus's and sat back in my chair. I stared at him, feeling empty and drained. The machine's beeping drowned out my thoughts. No part of Magnus had moved even a fraction of an inch. He was still, alive but lifeless.

Without conscious thought, I got up from my chair and left the room. My legs took me through the hospital and outside. My arm hailed a cab and my lips uttered my address to the driver. After a wordless monetary exchange, I climbed out of the cab and took the stairs to my apartment. A notice had been placed on my door, informing me that an investigative crew had been inside. Attached to the notice was a business card. One of the officers was requesting an interview. I left the note and card on my door and stepped inside.

The blood on the floor had been cleaned up, though a stain remained on the floorboards. I walked past it numbly, slipping off layers of clothing as I headed for the bathroom. Not even the scalding water could take my mind off the emptiness dwelling inside me. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair with my fingers, all without looking in the mirror. I did not want to see the miserable wretch who had been an unknowing accessory to my boyfriend's attempted murder.

My forehead pressed against the cool glass of the bus's window. The people around me seemed to sense my feral yet broken mood and wisely left the seats on either side of me vacant. As I stepped off at the university, I swung my backpack onto my shoulder. It seemed heavier than normal, as if the entire bag and its contents had been drenched in water. I thought of the gun I had slipped inside it before leaving the apartment. Something as small as that was weighing me down, making me drag my feet. I thought of Magnus and my love for him. Funny how love, little more than an emotion, could have such a catastrophic effect.

Eyes peered at me throughout my entire class. Amidst the whispers I caught people making mention of Magnus, though not by name. They wondered aloud where he was, why I, as they put it, 'looked like shit.' I tried to ignore them and pay attention to Morgenstern's lecturing, but all I could hear was Magnus's heart monitor beeping inside my head. His heart was beating inside me.

The class shuffled off in a hurry after Morgenstern's dismissal. I hung back, letting the others go first. Quizzical glances peered back at me. Morgenstern called out to me as I left, but this time I did not turn around. I kept walking, leaving him behind. Once outside the university, I pulled off my backpack and rifled through my supplies for the gun. After making sure no one was watching, I pulled it out and slipped it into the back of my jeans. Next I pulled out one textbook. The rest I left in my backpack, which I then shoved into the nearest garbage can. I boarded the bus, sat down, and left my old life behind without a backward glance.

I was just getting ready to leave the apartment when there was a knock at the door. I'd barely pulled it open when Jace stormed in, slamming the door shut behind him. His momentum drove me back into the living room where we glared at each other, tempers silently flaring.

Jace collected himself first. His eyebrows crinkled with concern and his golden eyes searched my face. "Your professor called me."

"Why?" I asked, tearing my gaze from his.

"He said he's been troubled by your behavior lately. I'm listed as your emergency contact, so he gave me a call."

"Good for him," I said icily.

Jace bristled. "He's not the only one who's worried about you, Alec."

"Are you really going to stand there and pretend you give a fuck about how I feel?"

"I'm not pretending. I'm your brother."

"Don't flatter yourself. You're adopted," I said bluntly. "You were never my brother and you never will be."

"Hate me all you want for what I did to Magnus, but I did it for you. I had to protect my family."

"You were protecting yourself. You thought Magnus was taking me away from you, so you eliminated the threat. Now your worst enemy is out of the picture and you still have me to jerk around and manipulate."

Jace's eyes flared to a molten gold. "Those are not my intentions with you, nor have they ever been."

"Okay," I said, making it perfectly clear I did not believe him.

"Alec, I am sorry that you're in pain, but why can't you see that it's better for you this way? Just forget about Magnus and focus on graduating. Make your family proud."

"Right," I scoffed. "How could my family ever be proud of me if I were happy?"

Jace inched closer to me, lethalness crackling around him. "Of course we want you to be happy, but not while making stupid decisions."

I stared him dead in the eye. "I can see why your old family didn't want you."

He recoiled from me, his eyes wide, before throwing his fist into the side of my face. Jace's hand curled into the front of my jacket, catching me before I could fall. He hit me again, smashing his knuckles into my cheekbone.

Again, I thought. Hit me again.

I needed him to aggravate me, to provoke me.

When Jace punched me for the third time, I slipped out of his grasp and fell to the floor. Blood dripped from my lips as I slowly pushed myself from my side into a sitting position. Jace crouched in front of me, fist poised to strike again. I flinched involuntarily, making him freeze. With glimmering eyes, he unfurled his fingers and brought his hand to my face, cupping my cheek.

"I came here to comfort you," he said between clenched teeth, "but you're pushing me away. You're always pushing me to the brink, Alec."

Those words were exactly what I needed to hear. Jace was trying to twist the situation to make everything my fault. He was making himself out to be the hero. Classic villain. In his demented mind, I was the reason he was forced to do horrific things. I was the sole cause of Magnus's predicament.

My fist slammed under Jace's jaw. His head snapped back and he fell away from me. In one fluid motion, I rose from the floor and pulled the gun from the back of my jeans. I stood over Jace's body, my feet straddling his hips, and aimed the gun directly at his face. When the disorientation cleared from his eyes, he held up his hands and his breath caught in his throat.

"Alec, don't—"

"The moment you fired that gun, you killed the only part of me that had any respect for you. You tried to murder Magnus Bane, but you killed me. I want you dead, Jace."

"Please—"

"Shut your fucking mouth."

I dropped down, clamped my hand over Jace's mouth, pressed the barrel of the gun against his shoulder, and fired. Jace arched below me and screamed against my palm. Still covering his mouth, I rolled Jace partway over. A bloody hole could be seen on the posterior side of his shoulder. The shot was a merciful through-and-through.

"Shut up," I commanded again.

Jace quieted and I pulled my hand from his mouth. He whimpered and raised his hand to apply pressure to the wound. Blood welled between his fingers. He trembled as he stared up at me, breathing hard.

"I let you live when you deserved to die. Remember that. But I'm making you a promise, Jace. If I ever see you again, I will kill you." I aimed the gun at his heart for emphasis. "Move out of the city, barricade yourself inside your apartment, I don't care. You just be damn sure you never cross paths with me again."

With an unfathomable calm, I tucked my gun away, grabbed my duffle bag from the couch, and left the apartment, leaving my ex-brother to bleed on the floor.

ONE MONTH LATER

"Alex!"

I turned, hand still poised on the door handle. A petite figure with fiery hair jogged up to me. Clary smiled, her green eyes twinkling. She touched my elbow and flicked her head at the door.

"How's he doing?"

"He's good. Can't get him to stop talking," I said good-naturedly.

"And how are you doing?" She looked at the lidded cup in my other hand. "Coffee break?"

"There's a chance this is vodka."

She clucked her tongue. "And you're not even sharing with me."

"I keep offering to slip a flask into your scrubs but you keep turning me down."

"If only Magnus hadn't claimed you first," she teased. Clary looked at her watch and began backing away. "I've got to run. I'll catch you later, okay?"

I gave her a two-fingered wave around my coffee cup. She disappeared down the hall in a flurry of red hair and blue scrubs. Clary and I had come to be friends ever since I'd started coming to the hospital on a daily basis. She'd taken care of me the night Magnus had been brought in and she'd been a supportive friend ever since. We chatted when she was on shift and she'd even coaxed me to hang out with her outside the hospital. Though I was always reluctant to leave Magnus's side, I was grateful for her giving me moments of escape, moments where I could breathe.

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, murmuring a quick apology to Magnus. I set my coffee aside and settled into the chair beside Magnus's bed. His heart monitor beeped quietly in the background as I picked up my chemistry textbook.

"Clary says hi," I said, watching his motionless face. I set the textbook in my lap and searched for familiar words. "Where did we leave off? Oh, here we go. 'Bond order is the number of electron pairs that hold two atoms together. Single bonds have a bond order of one, and multiple bonds with bond orders of two —a double bond— and three —a triple bond— are quite common. In closely related compounds with bonds between the same kinds of atoms, the bond with the highest bond order is both the shortest and the strongest. In bonds with the same bond order between different atoms, trends are observed that, with few exceptions, result in the strongest single bonds being formed between the smallest atoms. Tabulated values of average bond energies can be used to calculate the enthalpy change of many chemical reactions. If the bonds in the products are stronger than those in the reactants, the reaction is exothermic and vice versa.'"

Amidst reading aloud about bonds, my thoughts drifted to Jace. I hadn't seen or heard from him since our dispute at my apartment. He'd heeded my warning and cut off all contact with me. Evidently, he hadn't ratted me out to the police, which I appreciated. He'd fallen off the grid. I'd meant it when I said I never wanted to see Jace again, but remnants of him still lurked inside my mind. I thought of him from time to time, sometimes out of spite and other times out of fondness. I hated myself for the latter.

As I delved into more chemistry, something flickered in my peripheral vision. My voice cut off and I lifted my head. Magnus's face was still. I turned back to the textbook and began reading again when it happened for a second time. My glance drifted upward.

And I saw it. The tiniest movement, ever so slight, but magnificent to behold.

Magnus lifted his index finger.

The textbook clattered against the floor as I jolted to my feet. I stopped breathing as my eyes shifted from Magnus's face to his hand and back again. "Magnus?"

He lifted his finger, the first answer I had gotten out of him in one month.

I pressed my palm against Magnus's cheek and wrapped my other fingers around his hand, squeezing. My forehead rested against his as I leaned forward, tears prickling at the back of my eyes. He can hear me. "I'm here, Magnus. I love you so much. I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

His finger twitched in my hand and he managed to curl it around my fingertips. He was squeezing back, holding my hand and comforting me as he had when he had changed my life forever.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my free wrist and pressed my lips across Magnus's face. I kissed his temple, the corner of his lips, his cheek, his eyelids, everywhere I could reach.

After all this time, Magnus had never stopped fighting. He'd held on as I'd begged him to. I could see him coming back to me now. Today it was moving a finger; tomorrow it could be opening his eyes. If he was only able to lift his finger for the rest of the month, I'd take it. The road ahead was going to be long and arduous, but I needed Magnus to know that I wouldn't be anywhere but at his side. He was loved and needed. Above all else, he needed to know that in our little world of bonds, complicated formulas, and reactions, our bond was unbreakable.

I do not own the chemistry passage added to this story. It was borrowed from site/textbooks/General%20Chemistry%20Principles,%20Patterns,%20and%