Disclaimer: All characters belong to Cassandra Clare

A/N: I know little about human anatomy so just state in advance if the medical things are wrong. More at the end.

Chapter 15: Tiny Steps

Alec flinched when there was a hand on his shoulder. He curled to himself on the wingback armchair while looking up, relieved as the tanned frame appeared in his vision.

"Alec." Magnus was kneeling in front of him, hands unfolded the ball of Alec and knees spread to trap Alec's legs in the middle, once he let Magnus to bring his feet down back on the floor. Alec felt so embarrassed that Magnus saw him in such state. Tears rolled down and he wiped them with his sleeves, yet they seemed to be unstoppable and infinite. No matter how hard he rubbed it they just kept coming.

"You're hurting yourself." His soaked sleeves were tugged down and Magnus gently ran his thumbs across the wet cheeks. In the aftermath of crying Alec was hiccupping, hands and legs numb. Magnus's hands were warm against his cold pale skin. In his blurry sight and throbbing headache, for a second he mistook Magnus as a human. He was this beautiful and handsome, exquisite.

He didn't know what made Magnus so different, but Magnus held a unique position in Alec's heart. He had a feeling – which he hoped was not his wishful thinking – that Magnus treated him like a lover more than a child. He looked at him with love but not pity nor sympathy. Those were the least thing Alec desired in his life.

A pair of hands held his and they rested on Alec's knees. Alec closed his eyes when Magnus opened his mouth. "Come here."

Then his hands were let go and Alec tried to reach for it, yet he was embraced into Magnus's arms. He was wrapped by the strong hands and Alec found himself clutching to it, to the chest that had a heart beating. It was steady but slower. Alec listened to the heartbeat and slowly calmed down, the production of tears ended.

They were so close that Alec could feel Magnus's breaths on his neck. They were tickling his sensitive skin and he quivered. As if thinking he was cold, Magnus rounded his arms tighter and Alec bended into his chest more, wanting to be melted into the warmth. Even Ragnor and Aline wouldn't give him a hug like that. They were always careful as if he would break like a piece of China. However Magnus seemed to know what he was doing. He had the pace right, pushing Alec's limit inch by inch. Now he still held Alec's hand when he was sleeping, but he wouldn't dare come up to his bed anymore after a warning.

From his cat-like eyes though Alec saw his eagerness. And Alec admittedly yearned for someone – or something that could give him a sense of security. Magnus did it perfectly, it was Alec himself that wasn't used to such gesture. He wanted to. He needed to.

They remained still until Ragnor came back. Reluctantly Alec released Magnus and told him to do his work. The robot winked. "I thought my job was to take good care of you."

"One of them." His voice was weak from the emotional outburst. His throat was so dry that every vowel pained him. Magnus put a finger on Alec's lips. Consciously Alec pursed them into a thin line.

"Don't speak. Your throat must be hurting after all this. I'll get Aline to cook you something smoothing. Meanwhile, go take a bath." He stood and yanked Alec up, a hand sneaked around Alec's waist to support him. With a flushed cheek, Alec mumbled a protest. "I can walk myself."

"Okay."

Magnus moved his hand up to Alec's shoulder. They walked to the bathroom while the sounds of fire lit up coming from the kitchen. The robots must have communicated through the intercom. Ever since Alec gave life to Ragnor and Aline, they tended to talk verbally and they knew Alec hated the intercom because he felt that they were talking behind his back. He couldn't stand the thoughts of them holding back information from him.

Alec took a long bath and ate a bit of his dinner. Obediently swallowed his meds, Alec slipped into slumber and only in the morning he received the news of Jeremiah died from a heart attack.

Jem received the phone call of hospital around midnight; he was at home sleeping at that time. Quickly changed his clothes he rushed to the hospital. Arriving at the morgue, there were countless of coffins deposited. Inside one of the transparent coffin, his tutor's lifeless body was waiting to be burnt. The coldness of the morgue had his exhaled breaths visible in the air. Jeremiah's family was sobbing, his wife touched his life-long husband for one last time and the coffin was pushed back to its place among the deads. The lawyer had gather everyone outside the morgue, announcing the will. They formed a small circle.

As expected, Jeremiah had asked Jem to take all his cases. His mind wandered off to the time which his tutor visited him unexpected one day after he made the delivery to the Institute, pleading Jem if anything happened he shall continue his work. He was woken by the voice of the wife of his tutor.

"Jem, here… is the pass." On the shaky palm laid a pass that granted him access to Jeremiah's room. "He told me all the good things about you. Carry on his spirit, child."

Looked in the teary eyes Jem controlled himself and shook hands with the woman. Excusing himself from the two daughters and the mother he shambled to the room, following the signs. He lost his speech and emotions that his humanity was extracted for a period of time, only gaining them back as he slid the pass on the scanner.

The beep was grating to Jem's Aristo ears. He frowned as he stepped in: the room was tidy, work desk was neat with few photo frames on it. Sighing Jem walked around and turned on the screen, retrieving the file.

What caught his attention was, that Jeremiah had only been responsible for a single case in the past two years.

It must be a serious patient. He thought and pressed a button, sending the file back to his home's computer. It didn't have a file name, only it was under the designated file holder indicated its nature. Glancing around, Jem again smelled the familiar scent of spice. It was soon, however, evaporated when a cleaner came to replace everything so as to give the room out to another person.

Mundanes averagely lived a shorter life than Aristo with a life span of ten years more. Jem couldn't think of how he or Will would feel if one of them died before another. If Will passed away first, Jem would live without a heart. His would be long gone, following his lover to the final resting place.

Fondling the tattoo on the back of his hand, Jem took off. The nights in Vikram were not as busy as before, night clubs and parties still existed yet people had no interests in participating. They were preparing for any possible attacks, building shelters underground and such. However, Jem knew it wouldn't provide enough protection if the news were accurate. Those transformed were too primal and with the help of the Institute, nothing could block them out. The organization he once worked for was strayed from its original course.

He laid in his bed. Tossing and turning Jem found sleep didn't welcomed him. His mind was still awake from the news. Jem had never experienced this sudden panic: there were potential dangers which could end their lives within second. And he wouldn't be next to Will's side.

His lover had been busy with a serial killer prowling in Vikram. From John's database, Will hadn't gone home for three days now. Knowing the man would devote all of his time to catch the killer, he didn't want to bother Will. Jem sighed – and realized the times he had sighed for this short night probably could top the world record.

The sky was lightened up gradually by the sun. Jem wasn't aware that he had been wasting his time for few hours. Therefore, he got out from his bed and called for his butler. After ordering the robot to deliver a coffee to his study, Jem freshened up and went to his computer, thinking it would be the best to pick up Jeremiah's case as soon as possible.

Sipped the coffee he put the mug away and clicked on the screen. The document zoomed to full screen and Jem gasped. He scrolled down: information was listed on the left with notes written by Jeremiah inserted randomly along the text. It was a long document with at least 100 pages; texts, photos and medical and therapeutic reports mixed into a comprehensive report.

The name of the patient was a shock to Jem.

Alexander Lightwood. The boy that Will attempted to rescue and the boy Jem had offered help to. After the night two years ago he never foresaw a day of this to the first page, Jem began to read and his skin prickled after each.

For Magnus and Woolsey, their relationship was more based on physical needs. Woolsey, a person who did not wish to be bounded by promises and Magnus, a foreigner in this lavish city. There might be differences but in the end, both men did not want to put down roots. To Magnus, at least not this place.

Still, Magnus couldn't deny that there was attachment to their simple relationship. Woolsey might be one of the many partners in his life, yet he did not wish to see him vanish that fast.

It was the day before his next deployment. They were lazily spreading on the couch, legs tangled, and watching boring soap opera. Theirs hands were holding bowls and spoons as it was dinner time.

"Magnus, I don't want to see you anymore." The blond man suddenly said.

"What do you mean?" He lowered his spoon. Brows furrowed in question.

Woolsey took a bite of his Galinha à Portuguesa, spared a glance at Magnus before turning back to the TV screen on the wall. "I think we should say our goodbyes, that's all. We've been together like, a year?" His head tilted to the right as he traced back his memory. Magnus waited for his next words.

"I'm just tired of your companionship." Finally he looked Magnus into the eyes, clarified. "Not that I don't like you; but I know you want to go back to Vikram. We will part well."

Put his bowl down on the table, Magnus extracted his limps from Woolsey. There was a sick feeling lingering in his stomach. Magnus never pried his missions, but he knew it had something to do with it. Wars always had Magnus felt ill and he didn't feel like eating anymore.

"I do. But are you sure about that? Because I got this feeling that – "

"Hey," Woolsey interrupted and he shook his head fondly, "don't over-think."

Then he returned to the tedious program in a rather amused expression. Although most of the time they were on equal ground, when it came to important decision – like now – Woolsey always turned up to be the dominant one. He was a leader in nature. Magnus wasn't surprised about his strong side. Of course he didn't mind their relationship came to an end. And he believed in Woolsey's reasoning. Yet there was something more.

"Does it have something to do with your deployment?"

He asked carefully but got in return an annoyed glare. "I told you not to over-analyze things." Their staring held for a while and it was Woolsey whom first cut it. Magnus knew what his eyes could do to people. He wasn't regretting using it on the blond Colonel.

"There is a very high chance of me dying in the next mission." Hearing upon this Magnus immediately sat up and opened his mouth, about to say something. But he was shut up by the man's calm tone. "If this is the case, we should end things between us. You know my brother, he thinks we are a couple and he definitely is going to invite you to my funeral. And I don't want you to."

"What?" Magnus raised his voice, said in a pretended shocked manner. "You think I would go?"

It hurt him that Woolsey wouldn't want him to attend his funeral because he understood this was a fling, but Woolsey was still a friend. Magnus didn't know much people in this city, many lonely nights he was glad to have him by his side. Maybe they didn't share love between them, there was friendship that Magnus treasured.

Woolsey choked out a laugh and nearly spited his food out. "You would, Magnus. I know you would. As a friend, of course. But I don't want anyone mistake our relationship that way. If you do mourn me," He leaned forward, licking his lips clean of sauce. "Don't cross path with any Scott. It's the only thing I ask from you."

While he was speaking Magnus moved his stare from Woolsey's eyes down to his mouth. Sensed his attention drifted to another place, Woolsey shut up and hoped to Magnus, kissed the tanned man passionately.

"Does this serve right as a compensation?" He pulled away and asked huskily to Magnus, who moaned when Woolsey put down bowl aside on the table and ground their hips together.

Grabbing handfuls of the blond hairs, Magnus planted gentle kisses on his nose tip, on his jaw then back to the lips. He nodded as he thrust upward, rubbing their semis through layers of clothing. "Yes. This is fine with me."

Then their lips crashed, both fighting to have the upper hand.

It was a typical sex of them, sweaty and fervid. They ripped the clothes and drowned themselves in the pure pleasure. For once in weeks Magnus forgot about the wars, about anything. The lust and euphoria came so strong that Magnus literally moved on his instinct: he couldn't think and let his body take full control. The only reminder of their brutal sex was the bruises all over the two lean and muscled bodies. He enjoyed it. However, sometimes he wanted gentle sex.

Right now, he wouldn't complain. The very last time of sharing: Magnus allowed himself to put behind the fact that Woolsey was going on a dangerous mission, which even the confident man believed he was going to die during the course.

With Woolsey leaving, there was no one thing that had Magnus's heart in Saidah. Maybe it was about time to go home.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Collins?" Raphael asked, eyes darted between the three. The blue-eyed human was laying on the bed, strapped. The two male robots said nothing. The guard with green skin was guarding on the door, as if Raphael would run away. The other Asiatic one stood next to the bed, feline-like pupils inspecting Gideon who stared blankly at the peeling ceiling and the bronze oxidized concrete irons.

He knew though, the two robots were not exactly the traditional kind. It wasn't unheard of that Gideon Collins the Mechanic, created robots with human hearts. But he had seen stranger things in his life. People's secrets were always safe in the black market as long as the active members recognized you, probably because everyone here had their own skeletons in the closet.

The man on the bed bit his lips and nodded. "Yes."

"Gideon." The nurse said with a frown. The way he spoke of Collins's name was peculiar, Raphael noted. Gideon's blue eyes focused on the nurse's, blinking as he said. "I want this."

"Gideon." He repeated. "I didn't mean that. Do you want me to stay with you?"

Raphael turned away, busing himself with the preparation of a recollection. Their little argument was growing hotly. In the black market – the underground world – people had asked him to preform many ridiculous physical modifications. Mostly mundanes who thirsted for a body similar to Aristo. Collins's request was rather plain, yet outstanding from his work. No one had ever asked for a recollection, not in his 10 years of experience. Those who agreed to a memory wipe were despaired to forget completely.

The memory must be invaluable for Collins that he sought help from him, knocking on his door this morning and demanded his service right away. Raphael sterilized the needle and swung his body to the arguing two, cleaned his throat asking for attention. He felt that he was intruding a moment for Collins and the nurse radiated a romantic atmosphere. If not that, at least caring. However, the nurse looked nothing like a sex bot and Collins wasn't that kind of person either.

He said as pairs of blues and golden-greens moved to his face. "I have to inject sedative for you to relax completely." He walked near and saw the tremors of the slightly toned body.

When Collins first came to him, he was in all black. They, the three of them seemed to have an inner conflict after Raphael had explained Collins had to lay on the bed with his neck and chest exposed. It was necessary in order to carry on the procedures. A few deep breaths later Collins stripped his cloak and unbuttoned his shirt, obediently climbed on the bed. His guard took the cloak and the nurse followed him, unable to leave the blue-eyed man a feet away. Despite the fact that the guard was farther away, his eyes too tracked Collins wherever he went. Raphael was sure the tiniest movement wouldn't sneak away from his sharp eyes.

Collins shook and he tilted his head to his left, away from Raphael and facing the nurse. His hands clenched into fists and the unlicensed doctor could see the tight straps were leaving bruises on the pale wrists and ankles. Watching his reaction, Raphael handed out the syringe to the nurse.

"Why don't you do it? He seems comfortable under your touch." He said based on his observation. It was the nurse who secured the restraints on Collins in the first place. The robot volunteered and Raphael didn't give it a thought until now. Apparently Collins wasn't familiar with human contact. People had eyes could see that.

The nurse took the syringe with brown fluid inside from his hands. Collins closed his eyes when the robot touched his temple, down to his cheek then jaw. "I'm doing it on your left." The robot said and pulled up the loose sleeve up, a pale wrist with evident vessels brought under the light. The pulses were quick.

"Gideon, you're too tense." The robot leaned into Collin's ear and whispered, the hand spare was brushing the inky black hairs. The guard by the door perked, but remained silent. His hands tightly grasped on the cloak.

"It won't hurt at all." Raphael jumped in and crossed his arms. "I have a client an hour later, you know. If we don't do this quick I am afraid you have to make an appointment in the future."

It was a cruel thing to do. However, they had to wait for the sedative to take effect and all those procedures took time. He wouldn't risk losing a client for Collins: the man was not a royal customer of his. To be frank, this was the first time they ever crossed path.

"Okay. Do it." Collins said without opening his eyes. Raphael saw his chest rose and fell deeply. Within a blink of an eye the nurse stuck the needle in and finished the first small step.

Raphael ordered the nurse to put the syringe down with his chin pointing at the table. Caressed once more the nurse followed his command, but soon returned to Collins's side. The guard, too, approached.

Two pairs of eyes landed on his back, as he turned to prepare the device. The guard spoke worriedly, like a parent. "How long does it take?"

Lubricating the small transparent plastic tube with wires inside and a metal ball on the tip. Raphael sighed. "Two minutes for the sedative. Now move away: ten steps from the bed."

"Why?" The guard demanded. The other robot simply ran his hand along the Collins's jaw and neck, whispering soft words to the unconscious man. Raphael rolled his eyes and tutted, nipping the tube between his fingers and waved dramatically in the air, signaling them to retreat.

"Because," he said with annoyance, "the recollection needs to be carried out in an undisturbed environment. The device is only affected by objects within five feet radius. But for precaution, ten please."

Rested his hands on the hip he watched the two robots withdrew until their backs touched the door. Raphael smiled proudly as he managed to convince souled robots listening to his orders. He wondered if Collins felt this sense of pride when his commands were obeyed.

Raphael shook his head and focused back on his work. He brushed the strands of hairs from Collins's right ear and turned on the device, the head of the tube wriggled like a worm and instantly knew its way, crawling into the delicate ear and Raphael saw the length of the tube shortened. Collins arms jerked but it was only out of instinct.

Then he pasted the heartbeat detector on his bare chest, looked to the screen at the far corner to see the line jumped along. The detector was only in size of a fingernail, buried within the sticky substances daubed on the left side of the lean pale chest. He resigned to a dark corner of the room after that, keeping his distance.

The end of the tube linked to a computer screen, enabled him to inspect the inside. It had reached into the brain. Collins had reported to him that he had been taking drugs on time: those meds targeted the wiped memories and repressed them, made it easily to track as they left traces all over. The tube was designed to find out those trails.

The first dot was tiny, but the tube found it anyway. Raphael eyed the two robots before he pressed the button.

Collins's body jolted as a moan escaped the parted lips. His eyes were still closed. The straps held him in place as his hands and feet jerked violently. The heartbeats accelerated to an unimaginable rate; Raphael's eyes moved between the two screens, watching closely. The two robots nearly leaped to Collins, but they both controlled themselves. Their hands clutched onto each other, as if trying to restricting their wants to check on their master.

Raphael had to do it. He had explained the process would be painful and Collins had insisted. Who was he to deny one's decision?

The screen was blank now as the electricity was shooting at the spot. As the vision returned, the once stained area was now clean. Rate of heartbeat slowed down for a short while before the tube moved to the next, and continued cleaning for the following half an hour.

Finally, when the clock ticked a quarter to ten Raphael turned off the device. The tube, like it had its own consciousness, wiggled itself out and dropped on the floor. Raphael nodded towards the two rigid robots and walked towards the bed, while the guard and the nurse sprinted.

The pale face and body were soaked with sweats, the black shirt and jeans clung to Collins as if they were parts of him. The breathing was rapid, but not quick enough to stir Raphael's attention. The effect of this recollection was more of his concern. However, the memories would not surface this quickly.

Raphael said while picking up the tube. "You can untie him and take him home. Around two to three days the memory will come back in all sort of formats, so watched carefully. If my estimation is right, this session only recalled one tenth of the wiped."

The two instantly loosened the straps and the nurse held the sweaty head to lean on his shoulder, soothing the tensed body. Collins whimpered and his knotted brows never relieved. His hands and feet sprawled feebly on the bed.

"Then?" The guard asked as he examined. Red lines and bruises were on the ankles and wrists. He sighed and looked to Raphael, who amazed by the behaviors of two robots.

Never in his life time had Raphael witnessed such voluntary gentleness coming from robots. The Clave banned any forms of them. Rumors had it that a company had developed one but was rejected by the conservative council. What a pity. He thought as he answered. "Then you pay. If the memory doesn't surface consider this session free. I would not have you paid for some ineffective treatment."

The guard nodded and extended his hand to Raphael. Without hesitation he took it and shook. Raphael's eyebrow raised at the hot and sweaty palm. "Thanks." The green skin robot said and backed a step, letting the nurse to have enough room lifting Collins in his arms. The nurse smiled at Raphael and both strode to the exit, their car parked outside.

He knew Collins would come back to him whether the recollection worked. The resolve in those bright blue eyes was not easy to forget. Those memories seemed important to him, yet two years ago he signed the agreement, allowing the hospital to wipe it for good. It must be painful, for one to give up memories. Yet Raphael shouldn't be judging. Everyone had their painful but inseparable memory.

Stripping the bed sheet Raphael tossed it into the bin, his keeper would clean it later that day. He paced to the corner and neatly stocked the tube back on the rack. Ungloved, he threw himself on the chair and eyed the screens. Stroking his chin, Raphael relaxed and waited for his next appointment.

He turned his head away weakly as someone was pouring fluids into his mouth. With great difficulties he kept his lips sealed and surprised to find the person didn't nip his nose to force him open his mouth. Instead, the man coaxed in an urgent voice.

"Drink it, Come on!" It was familiar. Alec blinked but was disappointed that his vision hadn't come back yet. He could feel a presence in front of him and that was all. Let out a small nasal groan Alec heard the man tsked and something dropped on the floor. Soon, the hands went to his neck.

Alec thought the torture began again. He thrashed and the chains on his limps lashed largely. He backed up to the corner of his cage, trying to hide from the danger. However, his struggle was weak like a kitten, still exhausted from the early activities. The man easily gripped his wrists and pinned his legs down. Alec had no idea how he achieved inside this small cage with a ceiling only to his waist.

"Alec, it's me. Luke!" At that Alec opened his mouth yet only some throaty noises were emitted. He couldn't form words as he had screamed too hard. His body was dehydrating. Finally! He thought, Luke was coming to rescue him. For a long time Alec hated him, hated the man wasn't keeping his promise and allowed those men did bad things to him. He didn't know how long he had been to the cage.

A small vial was touching his lips and his chin was lifted. Luke urged. "You have to take it – we don't have much time!" And obediently he opened and the fluid slid down his throat. He coughed; it was burning and his whole body shook with his violent fit of coughing. A pair of hands landed on his wrists and ankles, Alec immediately recoiled.

"Sh, I am untying you. Don't make a sound." Quickly his fetters were gone, then the shackles. The chains connected to them were threw away and Alec was carried in Luke's arms. His hands clutched tightly on Luke's shirt: he was afraid that Luke was going to abandon him again. Last time he disappeared for god know how long! Alec wouldn't let him to.

Luke stealthily crept out of the cage, and put Alec down on something flat but with four walls surrounding. He yelped as Luke lowered him, and he glued to the piece of clothing. Even he was temporarily blind he could practically see Luke freaking out in the middle of the hallway. "Okay, okay. Alec let go first. I have to hide you."

"NO!" At least Alec was able to speak, not loud but yes. A hand rapidly covered his mouth and pushed his shoulder down into the small box. His flabby limps reaching out: why would Luke wanted to leave him in a cage smaller than the last one? He bit down the palm and earned a hiss from Luke. The next second, something jabbed his neck – a needle. Alec cried out but the drug paralyzed him. He slumped and limps were picked and stuffed into the box, laying inside in a foetal position.

Something covered up the top and Luke's footsteps faded. A minute later he returned and the cart – which he thought it was – was moving. There were bumps and stops on their way, occasionally he heard someone greeted Luke and said man politely returned the same gesture. After many turns and corners, they stopped.

Alec was still disabled. Luke wrapped a blanket around his torso and picked him up from the box, cold winds brushed against his bare legs and feet. Inside the strong arms Alec felt Luke struggled to get into something.

"How is he?" Another low male voice came from the front. It was soft like Luke's. He replied. "I have given him the interference and sedative. We can make it on time."

Then Luke left him there, possibly the backseat of a car. Alec heard something was brutally shoved into the trunk and Luke was back in no time. Followed the sound of door shut was the screeches of tires on dusty road.

His head was lifted into Luke's laps, a hand gently combed his messy filthy hairs. The temperature inside the car was cold; he quivered and he was tugged closer, the blanket around him strained trying to keep him warm. He moaned and opened his eyes tiredly. He couldn't believe this: he had to see it himself.

"Alec, don't say anything." Luke ran his fingers to the collared neck, measuring his heartbeat rate in the old fashion way. "I will tell you once we arrive. But now you have to stay quiet."

Alec couldn't do anything besides moving his eyeballs. It was dark outside the window. He didn't know if it was because of the night or the window was painted. He were outside. Away from the cage. A silhouette was in the driver seat and from the seldom street lights reached through the window, he saw sliver shining.

He was free. He could see Jace and Isabelle. Alec was going home.

A/N:

How do you all feel about this? My writing style changes a lots in this chapter because when I reread my other stories I feel like I should return to my old style.

Next chapter Jem is going to find out more about Alec and Will should be involved too, he will bring us hints about the war going on.

I hope you enjoy and like this. A review is highly appreciated and it motivates me on my writing:) Thanks for your support.