Here it is, guys! I know you've been waiting for this, so I got it written as fast as I could. 9 hour car rides are good for something...

Anyway, I hope you like it. I'm thinking at least one more chapter and then an epilogue, but I'm away this week for spring break so it may be a few days before I can get another update written. I'm posting this from my phone now as it is. But rest assured, I will continue to write until this story reaches it's end. Stay tuned!

Jace had never in his life turned his back on a fight. But as he walked through the dark remains of the sugar factory, the echoing sounds of fighting fading behind him, he was oddly grateful. He needed to find Clary, and every second that he spent not doing that was another second she could be slipping away from him for good.

And Jem seemed more than capable, especially right now. Jace would have to ask about that later; there was obviously some key information about the former Silent Brother that he was missing. He'd known that already-he'd just never had a reason to pry very much before. He had a feeling that would probably be changing soon.

The factory seemed to consist mostly of the main room they'd entered first, though along the back wall, he could see with his witchlight, there were a handful of doors spaced unevenly along it. They looked to have been labeled once, but age and misuse had faded them into illegibility. Trial and error proved them to lead to storage rooms, a few tiny offices, and a really disgusting bathroom.

With every door he opened to reveal another empty room, he grew more and more impatient, but he didn't dare become careless. There was no guarantee that Yanluo was the only demon around.

The second to last door opened to reveal another small office, slightly bigger than the others, which wasn't hard as they had not been much larger than broom closets. The room was dark and dingy, like all the others, but Jace immediately recognized something different about it, even before he lifted the rune stone in his hand and flooded the room with witchlight and his heart froze for a moment as a dozen emotions suddenly fought for control in a single second; none of them good.

In the center of the small space was a metal folding chair, lying on its side. And bound to that chair, her limp body broken and bloody, was-

"Clary!" He quickly determined that they were alone in the room and rushed toward her, dropping to his knees, his breaths coming in quick, short gasps as panic set over him, all pretense of his usual calm fading fast. "Clary," he murmured, half to himself, gently brushing a loose strand of matted hair away from her neck, as carefully as if she were made of fine crystal. Bracing himself, be brought his two fingers to rest just under her jawbone-and sighed in relief, suddenly on the verge of crying, when he felt her pulse, weak and flying, but very much there. He immediately set to work on the bindings holding her wrists to the cold metal of the folding chair, his knife slicing through them like butter.

The seconds her hands were free, Clary awoke slightly and, obviously not knowing it was Jace who knelt so close to her, began vigorously fighting against him. "Hey!" he cried out, trying to restrain her arms. Her attempts were so weak, it broke his heart. "Clary! Clary, it's me! It's Jace. Hey! It's okay!" He half-lifted her from the chair and the floor and pulled her, sticky with sweat and blood, to him, rocking her slightly as he murmured, "You're okay. You're okay. I've got you." She stopped struggling and, with a gasp, which turned into a sob, she seemed to come to a bit more.

"Jace," she said through her tears. Her tone made him think she didn't believe he was really there. Still, she curled into him. She was burning up.

He just held her for a second, relief flooding him completely. "I'm here. It's okay, baby. You're okay now."

"He'll come back," she slurred, sounding as if she was close to unconsciousness once again, despite her obvious terror, "He'll kill-"

"It's okay," Jace repeated. "That monster isn't coming back. I promise. Jem is dealing with him. And Simon's here too. It's okay now."

Magnus looked- Alec couldn't bring himself to think it as he dropped to his knees beside the broken form of the one he loved more than life itself. Dead. But he couldn't be. It simply could not be true. He wouldn't accept it.

A small part of his brain, the only part that wasn't completely overwhelmed by despair, noted that, all around him, the sounds of battle were dying out, replaced by a silence that seemed to permeate right through him. He could feel the eyes on him as he moved to rest his hand over Magnus' heart. He'd said it would happen like this, he'd told Alec what to expect, and why. And yet, still, Alec had clung to some small useless hope that had refused to die. And now it was gone; everything was. Magnus was gone. And he'd never felt more broken.

Alec was fighting tears, hard. His shoulders heaved as he struggled to breathe evenly. He couldn't bring himself to accept it. Someone stepped forward behind him and set a hand on his shoulder. "Alec," the tear-filled voice was his sister's, "I'm so-"

He didn't wait for her to finish. He placed a hand on either side of Magnus' face and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the warlock's, allowing the tears to freely flow, and then, wrapping his arms around his body, laid his head in the crook of his neck, like he'd done so many times before. But never like this. God, he'd never imagined this.

Maybe he would have noticed sooner, had the silent sobs not been wracking his body so violently and the grief pervading his every thought and feeling until it consumed him completely, the heart that beat against his own, growing steadier and stronger with every passing second.

"Don't cry, Alexander," said the only voice he wanted to hear, in the exact tone he would have wanted to hear it in, "How can I see those beautiful eyes of yours if you do?"

Alec straightened so abruptly; he almost fell backward, overcompensating. His jaw was slack. His eyes were wide. He knew they were. He simply lacked the ability to remember how to close them.

Magnus laid before him, still on he ground and looking awful, but alive, and awake, and smiling at him. "Breathe, Alec," he prompted after a few seconds.

"You… you were…" Alec was not yet over his shock enough to be able to coherently speak.

"Clearly, I am not dead, Alec," Magnus countered gently, struggling to sit himself up before he gave up and fell back onto the ruined grass beneath him. "However, coming so close to it tends to leave one exceptionally drained. Help me sit up?"

Alec did, and then wrapped him tightly in his arms, finally getting somewhat of a grip of himself. "I love you," he said into Magnus' shoulder, "By the Angel, I love you so much. I thought I'd lost you."

"I love you too, Alexander. More than you know. I'm right here."

It was only when the Shadowhunters and werewolves surrounding them started clapping and cheering that Alec even remembered that they were there at all.

He pulled away and allowed himself one long look, for really the first time, at all that he'd come so impossibly close to losing today. He gasped, taking the warlock's face in between his hands again, "Magnus, your eyes!"

"What about them?"

"They-they're green."

"Yes, I'm aware, Alexander."

"No, I mean, like, completely green. No more gold. They're just… human eyes."

Magnus seemed taken aback. "Really?"

Alec nodded, honestly unsure of how to feel about it. Isabelle crouched down beside him then and looked into Magnus' eyes herself. "Wow, he's right. Your Warlock's Mark is gone, Magnus."

The latter shrugged then, surprisingly unfazed by the development. "As is logical, I suppose. I'm not a warlock anymore. My power is gone."

Izzy blinked, "Like, totally gone?"

"Gone. Trust me, I can feel it."

"So…" Alec surmised slowly, "You're human now?"

The former warlock smiled contentedly. "I'd say so, yes. As mortal as you are." He paused, considering for a second, "Actually, I suppose slightly more than you are."

"So, you…" Alec couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. And he didn't need to.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised." Magnus smirked, "But I suppose it will take a few years for us to come to any true conclusions."

In that moment, hearing those words, as Alec stared at Magnus staring back at him, he found himself fighting tears again and smiling. Smiling so widely. In that moment, not caring who was watching, he leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend passionately, letting go of what seemed like every worry he'd ever had and letting them float away with the early autumn breeze blowing across what remained of Central Park.

Clary was unconscious again, still wrapped in his arms, when Jace moved to pick her up. Before he'd even finished the action, two figures appeared in the open doorway-obviously Simon and Jem, their silhouettes outlined in the light that now seemed to come from the larger room behind them. Simon, who was slightly ahead of the older Shadowhunter, faltered slightly in the room's entrance, eyes locked on the sight before him, of his best friend in Jace's arms. "Is she…?" He sounded deathly afraid of the answer.

"She's alive," Jace answered, straightening with her cradled in his arms. He would make no comments as to her being okay. That clearly wasn't the case, no matter how hard he wanted it to be. Simon sighed and nodded, obviously relieved.

It was Jem who spoke then, standing beside where Simon had stopped. "We need to get her to the Institute. Now." His tone warranted no argument and Jace was not in the state of mind to question his authority. Jem seemed to be in control right now, and that was fine with him.

Brother Enoch was waiting for them when they arrived at the Institute, along with two other Silent Brothers Jace couldn't name. Jem had called them along the way, though once he was in their presence he was virtually ignored. Apparently leaving the Brotherhood didn't bode as well with them as they would have liked outsiders to believe.

Bring Clarissa to the infirmary. Quickly. Brother Enoch's voice sounded in Jace's mind, and somehow his tone seemed urgent. None of the others were back yet. Simon walked ahead of him; either having heard the command himself or simply having figured out what was going on, opened the colossal door, and held it open for Jace to carry Clary through before following after him, his face a mask of poorly hidden worry.

Jace brought her upstairs and laid her down on the first of the many beds as gently as possible, and tried to be reassured when she didn't stir. He brushed his hand lightly against her cheek quickly before he was ushered out briskly by the Silent Brothers, who didn't allow for argument. The second Jace was out of the room and back in the hallway-and not at all happy about it, the door was closed firmly in his face.

Thanks for reading!