Plot: What if the vampire that killed Camille was an unknown character who isn't exactly in good terms with Magnus? What if he held a particular resentment for the warlock, hence the murder of his ex-girlfriend? And when the unknown character is found by Alec, who is physically exhausted and mentally vulnerable...
Disclaimer: The plot and characters of the Mortal Instruments series belong to Cassandra Clare. I own nothing.
Warning: slash, spoiler, alternative ending, inaccurate details, OOC
Notes: Here's the second chapter! I decided to cut this into two parts to maintain an average of a thousand words per chapter. Thank you to my reviewers (Brittanysway, viri24, crazycomedian, IndilwenAranionell), to those who added this to their list of favorites, and story alerts, and to the ones who contributed in the hits, and visitors count. Your positive feedback allowed for this chapter to finish writing itself! Hope this one does not disappoint. :)
2
It was hours past midnight when Simon was woken up by an incessant ringing sound. With slow and groggy movements he checked his alarm, which is how he knew it was an obscene time to be awake after a long day. Despite the lack of alertness in his consciousness, he knew for a fact that he was not the type to snooze his clock at two in the morning. So when his bearings finally sunk in, he scrambled for his phone. Which, he thought in the back of his mind, would be looked down upon by his vampire buddies, if he had any, just for the utter lack of grace and agility in his movements.
Then the ringing stopped, just when Simon got a hold of his phone. Scrolling for the name of the missed call, he had to do a double take and ensure he was really awake.
It was Alec.
Which was surprising.
And rare.
And worrying, knowing the type of person he is.
So when his phone was once again brought to life by the incessant ringing, still in mid-panic, he didn't waste a second to answer it.
"Hello?" he started, but there was no immediate reply. All of a sudden, Simon thinks that the call was brought on by some accidental press of the buttons. Which happens a lot to people, and with Simon being the poor victim on the other end of the non-existent conversation. For a split-second, he thought about the disrupted sleep and the wasted effort of getting up. But then, his hearing detected the barely there sound of hitched breathing, which he cringed to think came from severe pain, and eventually his name rasped out in a way Simon would never wish to hear again from someone he knows.
This call was no accident.
2
It hurt to breathe. So much so that Alec tried not to go through the process of getting air in his lungs. Damn the consequences. He could be found as a corpse, see if he cared. Between being alive and being dead, Alec thinks the latter looks more appealing. Peaceful and painless.
But his brain screamed for air, despite the protests of his body, and his mind was honed to tolerate pain and survive through it. So he had no choice but to inhale, gasp at the sharp pain, hold back a scream, and exhale.
Then do the process all over again.
His arms and legs felt unattached to his mind. He could not feel them anymore. Which, in a disturbing way, worked in his favor. He did not want to feel them. It was dark, but he didn't need to see to know the damage done on his body.
He tried to keep his eyes open. He fought hard to remain conscious. But when his thoughts drifted to the events that brought him to this state, Alec thought he'd rather take a chance with death and let sleep take him a way.
2
Something liquid, metallic, and burning entered his throat and mixed into his blood that brought him back into awareness. It felt like his insides were on fire. He couldn't breathe. It was what hell would feel like. He wanted to scream. Lash out. Cry for help. But something held him back. A thought kept him shut. He didn't know what exactly, but there was something that stopped him from uttering a single sound, something that told him that only bad things would come out of it.
Then it was over in an instant. The next thing he knew, he stopped seeing red. His breathing was back, and it hurt and felt like the post-effects of being suffocated by smoke. There's air, but it was never enough.
"About time!"
Sensing danger, his eyes instinctively moved to the source of the voice. He didn't have to look far. The source was sitting over him, holding a bloodied dagger, with the point directed to his neck, while grinning like a madman.
Alec hoped his eyes conveyed the loathing and rage for the deranged vampire.
"You up for another round? You did well in the last one, let's see if you can keep up!"
Before Alec could see where the dagger lands, he shuts his eyes tight and hoped for unconsciousness to take him back.
"What a weak spirit you have!" the vampire cackled. Then the vampire's mouth formed a sneer and his eyes shone with disgust. "No wonder your warlock left you."
2
Alec was startled awake. He wasn't sure by what, but he was grateful. He dreamt of maniacal grins and of endless cackles. To his horror, he could still hear echoes of the deranged sound reverberating in his ears. He took a deep, slow-painful-breath as he tried to tune it out.
When the adrenaline of his post-nightmare had died out, his eyes frantically searched into the darkness. He was no longer in the station, definitely. But that just leads to the dilemma of being in a place he didn't recognize. He could tell that he was lying on a bed, which was sort of a relief to his aching back. But its lack of familiarity to him caused a whirlpool of anxiety to form in his mind.
Then something flesh and cold made contact with his skin, startling him out of his thoughts. Funnily enough, he didn't seemed theeatened by it. And when he heard a click to his right, followed by the out pour of light, and a particular vampire's face coming into view, it all made sense.
"Simon," Alec breathed out, without thinking, relieved and beyond glad. All of a sudden, he forgot about the fact that his body was hurting and that breathing had been a difficult thing. He cringed at the sudden sting in his chest, but didn't let that get in the way of his momentary relief.
There was no immediate respond from the Daywalker. Simon just stood over Alec's lying form, unmoving and still. An upright corpse, if there was one. His face held a somber expression, and his eyes seemed unseeing as they wandered over the Nephilim's body. All traces of relief washed away from Alec's face as he followed the vampire's gaze, knowing full well what he'd see.
But knowing and seeing are two different things.
He didn't have a shirt on, so nothing blocked the sight of the long gashes and the dark bruises all over his chest and his stomach. They varied in sizes. Some seemed to have stretched endlessly on his sides and into his back. They were disgusting to look at. They were callously done, made from a carelessly handled knife and abusive fists. They were ugly. They brought back memories of a haunting time that wasn't so far away from the present. And Alec would've lost himself into them, if not for Simon finally initiating conversation.
"I found this, when I got to you..." Simon started. Glad for the distraction, Alec brought his focus onto the vampire, his eyes falling onto the pertained object in Simon's hands. It was a small, plain bottle, simple and ordinary enough so as not to distract anyone from its bright red content.
Recognition hit Alec as if it were a harsh blow, and it was only the vampire's lightning speed reflexes that saved his bed from barf.
2
TBC