Hello, all! FIRST OFF:
WARNINGS: MAY BE A RAPE TRIGGER. There is no rape in the chapter, however, my beta pointed out to me that I should include a warning.
FURTHER NOTES: For the purposes of this fic, Jace's imprisonment with Jonathan has been altered for my needs.
Also, many thanks to my beta, TechnicolorZebra, they're very nice. And graduating, so cheers for that. I still have three years. And this summer, I will not be posting anything. Or, I shouldn't be. I'll be studying abroad in Japan, so unless that falls through, I won't be back in the States until half-through August. So, yeah, temporary hiatus, I suppose. Sorry about that. But, anyway, this chapter is a bit of a biggie. Everything is finally picking up.
"Rules of the society are nothing: one's conscience is the umpire."
-Madame Dudevant
BLIND Chapter 4: Pretend
Alec didn't know what to think. Pain, was a given.
His arms were about to pop out of their sockets, the twisting already causing terribly bruises that would settle only for darker colours than purple. If Jonathan bumped the rope up, one more time, the pain he was feeling would intensify in a burst and undoubtedly overwhelm him for multiple seconds, but he felt... relief, in some odd way. He also felt afraid, and the anger of betrayal that should have driven him to rage only washed over him in pastels akin to guilt. Maybe if he'd been a better Parabatai, Jace wouldn't be standing in front of him in that fire-lit room, joking with Jonathan as he absently watched Alec be tortured.
He, Jace, hadn't been there when Jonathan had first pulled Alec into the other world-a pocket in dimensions, Alec had decided. He had almost managed to fight back successfully that time, too- the black eye Jonathan sported could attest to that. But he'd been overpowered, because the part-demon was faster, stronger, and less reserved about killing. Though Alec felt that he'd become much less opposed to killing since Jonathan had first kidnapped him from the streets of New York- he would love nothing more than to shoot into Jonathan's eye sockets and puncture his brain.
He'd been shoved to the ground, Jonathan's knee on his back, and his wrists had been bound together in thick metal cuffs that dug into his skin. He couldn't see it well, but a cord had been pulled through the loop his back and his arms had made, then secured. It was attached to the ceiling, which didn't quell his boiling stomach at all.
Then Jace had walked into the room as Alec had been hoisted up, his feet just inches above the ground. Alec had looked at his brother in surprise, as if asking for help because his wrists were cutting open and the skin tearing. Jace was fine. His clothes weren't even ruffled, though they weren't what Alec had last seen him in, his hair disheveled in that way that Alec had always thought was just too sexy. There was a blackening eye that had Alec worried, but Jace had hardly spared Alec a glance before he'd started talking with Jonathan as if Alec wasn't worth his time. As if he'd found a new, better parabatai. A more evil one, as if there wasn't a bruise on his eyethat Alec couldn't help but suspect was Jonathan's fault. Maybe it wasn't even Jonathan's doing, but he pushed that thought aside as he forgot about the injury.
"Sebastian," Jace had said. "You going to be done soon? I want to go to that potions shop on Essex, the one in Massachusetts. We need to get some more chaparral, foul smelling stuff."
Jonathan had shrugged, and hoisted Alec up further from the ground, nearly popping his arms out of their sockets. All of his weight was on his shoulders and his arms, his wrists, his hands turning purple because of poor circulation. Alec had felt tears well up in his eyes as he cried out in pain, but he didn't shed them. Not in front of Jace, and certainly not in front of Jonathan. He wasn't that weak, despite the churning of his insides and the entirety of the clave saying otherwise, directly or not.
Jonathan had tugged at the rope one last time, Alec's arms straining as he bounced up, his wrists digging back into their cuffs, then a scream joining a loud popping sound as both of Alec's arms were pulled out of there they were supposed to be. Jonathan laughed as looked at the broken-limbed shadowhunter, and Jace just looked mildly interested. As if Jonathan's laughter was more important than his pained parabatai.
The best he got was a, "Won't they notice if both of his arms have popped out?", and that only served to make things worse. Jace didn't care about Alec, he was just watching out for Jonathan's skin. And in the link between the two parabatai, there was nothing wrong. Even while watching Alec's shoulder joints be pushed past their limits, the only thing Alec could feel when it came to the link was the overwhelming fear that this was really his brother.
Jonathan released the rope, and Alec grunted as he hit the cold floor, his arms hanging on to his body by only the skin. He tried to breathe steadily, regain control of the pain, but his head was twisted so he could see Jonathan's laced-up leather boots carrying the part-demon closer. He already hurt enough, he didn't need anything else.
Jonathan stopped a foot away, undoubtedly looking down at the shadowhunter he'd been tormenting. His dark hair was sweaty, matted at places and stuck to his flushed forehead. There were bags under his eyes that made his features look nearly as gaunt as a skeleton, and he'd lost weight since Jonathan had first 'tended' to him. It had been less than a week and a half, but the effects were already showing on his body, and not in bruises. It was exactly what Jonathan wanted while he was still playing around.
"Pop them back in," Jonathan grinned responding to Jace's 'won't they notice' question. "There will be bruises, but all the better. He won't be able to say where he got them."
Jace smiled, devilishly, in an expression Alec had seen enough times at his side for it to hurt. If goosebumps could have been developing on his arms, they would have been.
Jace made to move towards his parabatai, but Jonathan stopped him.
"Don't," he said. "I want the first time you touch him again to be... special."
Jace mocked hurt, holding his hand over his heart. "But all touches by me are special!"
Jonathan just rolled his eyes, and turned back to Alec. They were cold, dark, and the way he had said 'special' had been promising, in an entirely frightening way. He didn't know what it could be, and he didn't want to know. But it alluded that there would be a next time, and that he could check up on Jace, no matter his state of mind, again. He'd know Jace was safe with his attitude, his all-surrounding golden glow, only his morals and alliance changed as far as Alec could see. He wasn't physically hurt, though now he didn't know if that was better or worse.
Alec bit his lip and took it as Jonathan undid his binding, then popped both of his arms back in. An iratze was drawn on the back of his hip, and he was thrown back into some New York alley with his bow and his quiver. Jace was safe, and though Jonathan was a monster they were getting along like thick and thin. And despite all of this, that could help bring Jace back to the Institute, to his family, Alec's lips were sealed on anything related to the two and the world was tilted, spinning around the sun as if it had nothing better to do. As if nothing had changed. The world would never stop for Alec, not that he, or anyone, expected it to.
The next days were torture, and not in the conventional Jonathan way. Though maybe all of that, leaving him alone with puzzles about Jace he couldn't figure out, was just another way to taunt him. Jace was being used against him, and it looked like the golden boy himself didn't care. Maybe he was acting, but then Alec would have felt something. He would have felt fear, he would have known when Jace was lying. He always knew when Jace was lying, just like Jace always knew when he was lying. It was a two-way street, he'd thought. He was starting to doubt Jace, the boy he'd spent four years (only four years) with.
He was just trying to figure everything out, and his body still hurt so much. The grossly torn flesh on his wrists was healed completely, so were the bruises on his knees and chest from being dropped to the floor, but there were still rings of dark bruising around his shoulders. They were lightening, but not as quickly as Alec would have liked, still a purple when he'd went to bed and Magnus had seen them.
"What happened?" The warlock had exclaimed, seeing Alec pull off his shirt.
"It rained really hard." He had intended to make a better excuse, but he was tired, and that just tumbled out before anything else could. It was probably one of the worst things he could have said, they'd already had a bit of a fight about his commentary on the outside climate.
"If you don't want to tell me you don't have to," Magnus retracted, frowning as he turned away. "I'm not going to force you."
"Magnus," Alec said softly. "It's not that I don't want to tell you. I'm sorry."
Magnus turned around, his eyes not really knowing what to portray. "What am I supposed to think? You've been off lately, always talking about the weather, like you're hiding something, now these bruises and you can't talk about it? What's so bad about it?"
"It's... complicated." Alec shouldn't have said something like that. "It's so complicated and the moment I can tell you I promise I will." If that time would ever come.
Magnus sighed. "Let me heal those, then. You had better tell me what's happening as soon as you can."
Alec nodded, and let Magnus work his magic. But despite them finishing the night without screaming, when Alec left the next day he knew he'd be sleeping at the Institute that night. He and Magnus were off pace from each other, moving at different paces. Alec was keeping secrets, something he shouldn't have been doing. He was off-setting their balance. It was Jonathan's fault. He wanted to tell Magnus, even if it meant admitting he was weak. He wanted to say he'd seen Jace that his brother was safe, just fucked in the head. But he couldn't. He wanted to be with Magnus and not fight. But he couldn't, not as long as Jonathan was using him as his personal plaything.
Alec was tired when he got back from his patrol, and he'd spent the entire day hoping Jonathan would pick him up and that Jace would be okay and simultaneously dreading the same thing. His nerves had been on edge, as much as possible with how blown they were by then. He was starting to come undone. He was having trouble handling people, handling himself. He was glad to go back to the Institute at the end of the day, with one last look out to New York, giving Jonathan an extra moment to grab him, and he went inside, both relieved and disappointed.
He went to the kitchen, where he found Isabelle and Clary sitting around the table, eating take-out from the Chinese restaurant a block away. As he saw them, he was struck with guilt. He knew that Jace was safe, while they were both worrying. If he was stronger, he could have taken down Jonathan and brought Jace back.
"Hey Alec," Isabelle said as Alec opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. It was empty, of course. No one had been shopping; they were all too busy dealing with shit.
Alec sighed in frustration then nodded towards his sister. He'd have to order some food, because if he was ever going to be able to fight back against Jonathan he wouldn't be doing it on an empty stomach. He didn't have surprises packed away inside of his body like his brother. His darkening brother, but he couldn't think like that.
"There's a Clave meeting you have to be at," Isabelle said, popping a piece of broccoli into her mouth, then frowning.
"Now?" Alec asked, irritated. He didn't want to do any of that, not when he couldn't fucking say anything.
"No, four days." Isabelle said, swallowing her vegetable.
"Fine," Alec said, frowning.
"What's up?" Isabelle asked, but Alec was already gone, exiting the kitchen to go to his room.
He took a shower and went to sleep, deciding to just get something to eat at the beginning of his patrol the following day. He just wanted to fucking go to sleep, have the day over and done with. Fucking hell. Couldn't they just leave him alone?
When Jonathan had pulled him into the room, the hell, whatever it was, again the next day, he'd hoped, and expected, to see Jace again. When Jonathan had pulled down his pants he'd expected the worst, rape, he'd thought only of that and had been glad Jace wasn't there. But then out came a clamp and scissors- he'd been relieved, for a minute. He knew to be scared, but he was glad that he wouldn't be forced into being used sexually by someone who wasn't even Magnus. Someone he didn't love. He didn't think he could handle that, being taken by someone else.
He was left feeling dirty and completely wrong, overrun in the end with pain anyway. He didn't know how he'd ever explain it to Magnus, either, if the silence was ever lifted from his chest. He would probably burst into tears, and Magnus wouldn't know what to do, neither of them would.
His legs were strapped down, angel why was Jonathan always stronger than him, and he was still wearing his pants and briefs around the knees. He was exposed, though, and Jonathan was smirking like he'd gotten a sick confirmation of something he already knew and had planned to use against Alec from the beginning. The shadowhunter had had the decency to be afraid of how it could turn out.
"You're not circumcised," Jonathan had drawled, picking up a smallish metal clamp. It looked uncomfortable, like the material would dig into the skin, and Alec swallowed, trying to wiggle a bit away from the part-demon. He didn't like where Jonathan's choice of words was leading his mind. "Most Shadowhunters aren't, though, so it's no surprise."
Jonathan walked in front of Alec, close enough that the Lightwood could feel hot breath ghosting on his face. Jonathan's gaze wandered down, and Alec was more than aware of the fact that kidnapping didn't have a deadline, a minute hand he could count down until it was all over. Not that there was a clock on any of the gray walls.
"What are you doing?" Alec asked, gritting his teeth. It was uncomfortable, having Jonathan that close. Especially with his dark eyes now on Alec's flaccid cock. His hand went down to meet his eyes, and Alec jerked as Jonathan's hand wrapped around the head of his penis, his breath speeding up as another surge of adrenaline shot through him. He bit back a whimper as Jonathan pulled forward, hooking onto his foreskin and pulling it past the point of hurting. He squeezed the toothed metal clamp down on the pulled-up foreskin, and the skin was punctured by its, albeit dull, teeth.
"Don't," Alec whispered as Jonathan pulled out the scissors. He knew what was going to happen, and this time, he knew that that the torture wasn't meant to be physical. Magnus would notice this if they got intimate. He wouldn't be able to do anything without his clothes in front of his boyfriend again. Jonathan cut it off, having to cut the skin a few times to get a good cut across the skin. Alec wished he would have at least used better scissors. Maybe he'd get tetanus and Jonathan will leave him the fuck alone, but he knows better. An iratze and the bacteria will be gone, but his foreskin won't grow back and how will he explain it to Magnus? It wasn't bleeding too much, then, and Jonathan had thrown the excess skin into a garbage can Alec didn't think much of earlier. He drew another rune on Alec that looked more familiar, on his left arm. He didn't know what it was, but it was pushed to the back of his mind as Jonathan gave him a funny look, a smirk.
Alec wanted to ask why, but he knew. He knew the motive, the secret. This wasn't about him, it was a secret one-up on the Clave that just ripped up his life. It had to happen to someone, didn't it? Better him than Isabelle, than Aline. He was just relieved to get an iratze and get out of there. He wouldn't be going back to Magnus's that night, the fighting was probably diffused but that might mean make-up sex, which he couldn't handle. Not with something like this that Magnus would notice. Something that would make him so ashamed. Jonathan, once again, got the best of him.
Riiing... Riiing...
"Hello? This is Isabelle Lightwood."
"Isabelle, it's Magnus."
"Funny, I was just thinking about calling. Do you know what's up with my brother?"
"So it's not just around me? Something's wrong."
"He was really snippy yesterday. I chalked it up to tiredness. But tonight, he looked really..."
"He hasn't been sleeping well, but I think there's more than that. He keeps talking about the weather when I ask him questions."
"He won't even speak a word to me. He just looks at me, like I did something wrong. Like he's jealous."
"That doesn't sound like something he'd normally do. But he's been strange, since just after Jace disappeared."
"That's probably part of it, Jace and Alec always used to be together when shit happened."
Magnus sighed. "Yeah. I don't know, Isabelle."
"Maybe we should talk to him."
"Let's give him a few days, see if he thaws out."
"Maybe. Don't worry Mags, he'll be fine. He always is."
He was back, again, the very next day.
"Miss me?" Alec spat. He'd never been too good at the sarcastic comments, but he could make the basics every now and then. He'd spent way too much time around Jace to not be able to, though he wanted to moreso now. And he got it, too, with Jace standing there, watching, propped up against one of the walls. He watched as Jonathan won the fight and tied up a winded Alec, not lifting a finger to help, his face nothing but indifferent towards the ordeal that they go through every time with the same outcome.
This time the room was laid out with a cheap plastic table that held several gallon bottles of water that looked rather menacing in the light of the braziers that heated the room slightly. There was a white plastic funnel next to the water, and Alec knew about this one. It was legal in Idris for a long time while it was popular in France and Spain.
Jonathan picks up a gallon of water, the clear-plastic tinted a murky white, tainted by a label that prided the brand and the nutrition facts that were being forced on everything in the stores. He pulled off the blue cap, the plastic seal becoming crooked and imperfect, a bright blue color purpled by the light, but perhaps meant to reflect the supposed color of the bleached water. Alec had never really noticed the way that the light played the room, made it more sinister, more erotic, if he would go there in his head. But the planes of Jonathan's face stood out, making him more menacing with the shadows in his hair adding depth to the scene.
Alec wondered what he looked like, trying not to be scared, trapped to a wall after failing to fight off the part demon, and not for the first time. Pathetic, he'd already assumed. Alec wondered if Jonathan ever just wanted to push his power an inch further and end him, but it wasn't the time.
Jonathan pulled his head back, his index finger and thumb coming together to pinch down Alec's nose, the other hand shoving the funnel into his mouth and quickly beginning to pour in water before Alec could spit it out. He choked, trying to spit it out, but the funnel was pushing to the back of his throat, almost hitting at his gag reflex. But the water kept coming, and he started swallowing, past the point of fullness, until he knew his guts would burst. Jonathan finished the first bottle on him, and went to get another. Alec wanted to puke. He'd already drank too much, the funnel hitting the floor as he spat it out.
Another, and another. He knew that he was probably crying, just to get of the water somehow, and he'd have to pee soon. He was so bloated, it was too much liquid. Then, Jace walked over and hit him. He hit him in the stomach, over and over, it only took four or five times before Jace stepped out of the way and Alec puked all the water up on the floor and down his own front side. Jonathan stepped in, then, and they did it all over again. They did it again and again, until Alec couldn't speak if he'd wanted to, his tongue lolling and his throat a harsh mess, broken down a bit by all of the abuse.
But that last time, Jace gave him an iratze, crooked just like his always were, then pecked at his lips, smirking and saying that he couldn't wait for 'next time,' whatever exactly that meant. It chilled Alec, that Jace had kissed him, and that there would be a next time. There was a twisted bit of satisfaction; Jace kissed him, and relief that he'd get to check up on Jace. Even if this Jace was everything he could have feared his brother would become, twisted, somehow, by Jonathan's evil.
He was sent back to the real world, the place where his pain was all make-believe. A place where Jonathan and Jace were still untouchable and his relationship with Magnus was falling to shambles. A place with dirty roads leading places he might be safe in, places he might be shunned in. They might lead to his home, though he was too tired to think about if it was still warm enough for that title. He went home, slowly, his weight heavy from the events of the day, all the excess water still in him, his front still soaked in his own vomit, a very watery substance combined with disgusting bits of his water pipes.
He went home, to Magnus. He said he was sorry, though he wasn't exactly sure what for. For the kiss, for being so strange lately. For not being able to talk, for not being able to help. For letting Jonathan get the better of him, again. For wishing Magnus could just know, automatically understand, like in fairy tales he'd dissected in his classes. He meant it, and Magnus knew it. He looked up from the script that was frustrating him so much, and they talked about that over food Magnus had been ordered, Alec mostly listening but chipping in his two cents when called for. They kept off of Alec's day, of Alec as a subject, and things went well.
Alec was floating, or at least not drowning (the irony, he couldn't help but think) under his own weight. He was working towards happiness, though after every laugh he was silenced by his own thoughts, he was getting better, being with Magnus. Talking. Being human, just for a while, then he'd be a shadowhunter again. He was sure the rest of the night would run smoothly, then a kiss ran too long.
Hot fingers grasped at hair, breathing became heavier, Magnus had rigged a playlist to start playing smooth Jazz when it sensed they could be in that mood (when he'd done that, Alec had no idea, maybe he'd gotten so fed up with the script and needed a break), and hips began to migrate towards each other. Their bodies were pressed together, and they were enjoying it, the heat nice and searing. They were put together, like pieces, though they didn't fit perfectly, it was okay. There was always one awkward limb when they had sex that they never knew what to do with.
Magnus lost his shirt, then Alec, and Magnus's hands had just finished pulling down his pants zipper when Alec realized exactly what was going on and came back to Earth, his thoughts of the previous days catching up with him. He remembered what Seb-Jonathan had done, and started shaking like a leaf in the wind of a storm as images flashed in front of his eyes. He tensed before leaping off their couch, this time a blue one, running to the bathroom and locking the door behind him.
He knew it was immature and stupid, but when Magnus came knocking, he didn't answer any of his questions. He didn't say he was alright, he didn't leave the bathroom. He couldn't see Magnus, couldn't speak, couldn't let Magnus see him as he tried as best as he could not to cry. That time, Jonathan had really done a number, all of the secrets Alec was being forced to keep clashing around in his head like an orchestra with each section playing a different song, the first seats all leading separate beats.
He sat in the shower, pulled the glazed glass door shut and just pretended he was alone with himself, rocking, then paralyzed by an wrecked engine of thought, his knees squeezed to his chest, then bruised as he tried to stretch out suddenly as an idea led him to a violent recoil then expansion of a reaction, disgust. At himself, Jonathan, Jace, everyone. Isabelle hit his thoughts, Clary, Magnus, Maryse, Robert, Max. They all are overwhelming presences so suddenly, the mosquito net that usually works can't repel their usual attacks and all he wants is for them to leave him alone. Why won't they, why won't they?
Is all that's he'd tried not enough, was he still the closeted boy everyone half-hated? Why wasn't he the background noise anymore, the steady beat that gets lost in the rest of the song? Why was his head suddenly a neon crayon, not one of the boring, ignored, dull colors? Why was all that had been accumulating crashing down on him now, why was he crying- angel how pathetic was that how fucking disgraceful he might as well just be the thing everyone uses and mangles and takes blows at-he couldn't think like that, but he was, fuck.
He fell asleep at some point, there was no clock in the bathroom, his feet, ankles, knees and calves all bruised to some degree, his wrists from hitting them against the floor and the wall at one point, his nails chewed to just stubs. He was losing it, all over Magnus's shower floor. He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he awoke he wished it could have lasted forever.