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Magnuc doesn’t expect to see Alec leaning against the railings of the Brooklyn Bridge in the early hours of the morning. It’s pretty much deserted, a single figure in all black a dot against the twilight sky.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Magnus says as he approaches. He stops some distance away. “I thought you’d be home with your new fiancee.” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Alec doesn’t look away from his gaze over the bridge, makes no sign that he’s realised Magnus is there at all other than a slight twitch of his fingers on the railing.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
Magnus is a little taken aback by the monotone quality of his tone - Alec was never one to talk with much expression, but he was also never this bad.
He shrugs lightly. “I felt like a walk,” he says. “I often come this way.” He pauses. “Why are you here?”
Alec finally breaks his gaze away from the horizon and looks at Magnus directly. “I fought with Jace today. I held my seraph blade to his throat.”
“Well, every family has disagreements,” Magnus says lightly.
Alec doesn’t smile. “You asked why I’m here.” He moves his gaze away from Magnus and back to the horizon. “I’m trying to find the least dishonourable option.”
Magnus swallows. “Least dishonourable option for what?”
“My life,” Alec says simply. He leans more heavily against the railings. “Jace, Izzy and Clary committed treason.”
“And why does that bring dishonour on you?” Magnus asks, inching closer so that he also has one hand on the railing, just a couple of feet away from Alec.
Alec looks down at the dark waters beneath the Brooklyn Bridge. “I was in charge of bringing Meliorn to the Silent Brothers and I lost him. I proposed to Lydia so that we can take the institute back together. I can’t see that happening now that my siblings have committed treason and my parents are traitors, can you?” He grips the railing tighter. “I did everything they ever asked of me.”
Magnus stays silent.
“They’ve taken the institute for good,” Alec continues. “My parents tarnished the Lightwood name and relied on me to fix it, and now that I’ve lost the institute that’s never going to happen. They’ve spent their whole lives drilling in just how useless I am, and now I’ve just proven them right.”
“It’s not your job to fix the messes of your parents,” Magnus says slowly.
“I’m a Shadowhunter, Magnus.” Alec turns away from the railings abruptly and lets himself slide down to the floor. When he speaks again his voice is wobbly. “If I go home now I have to face the possible deruning of my siblings. If I leave Lydia I ruin the family name forever, and the chances of saving them are close to none. If I marry her they’ll hate me forever for betraying them.”
“There are ways to save your siblings that don’t include sacrificing your happiness, Alexander,” Magnus says softly.
Alec laughs coldly. “My happiness was never an option.”
Magnus inches closer again so that he’s standing just away from Alec. He joins him on the cold floor of the Brooklyn Bridge. “When you say you were trying to find the least dishonourable option,” Magnus says. “What exactly did you mean?”
He knows, in his heart, exactly what Alec means.
“The honour is not in the name but the deed,” Alec says. “Suicide is a dishonourable deed no matter the name of the one who commits it.”
Magnus leans his head back against the railings, a frown on his face. “And what constitutes an honourable death?”
Alec shrugs. “Death via demon attack. A Downworlder attack, maybe.” He lets his head roll slightly to the side to see Magnus, and a genuine, albeit small, smile spreads across his lips. “You know,” he says. “I enjoyed having drinks with you.” He laughs. “I mean, the drink itself could have been better, your taste in alcohol is horrendous, but it’s the first time I can remember doing something just for me.” His smile takes on a bittersweet tinge. “I ignored a calling to the institute for it and didn’t regret a second.”
Magnus smiles sadly. “You’re not just going to throw yourself to the demons, Alexander. They wouldn’t believe it for a second, you know that.”
Alec shakes his head, bittersweet smile still in place. “Every Shadowhunter makes mistakes, Magnus,” he says. “Sometimes they cost us our lives. It happens.”
“And when they don’t find your stele in your possession?” Magnus asks. He pulls the stick out from a pocket in his jeans. “I found it hidden behind a glamour in an alleyway.” He holds it out - an offering.
Alec hesitates and then takes the stele, playing with it gently. “You’re right,” he says. “Leaving it was a bad call.”
“Why did you?”
Alec stops twirling the stele and Magnus watches as he absently burns a rune into the skin of his hand. “You know,” Alec says. “It doesn’t matter how much we think we want to die.” He gazes down at the new rune. “No matter how much we want to die, instinct will always kick in.” He redraws the same rune on his wrist. “We find ourselves drawing an iratze before we’ve even processed what we’re doing.”
“You can’t heal without your stele,” Magnus says.
Alec laughs. “That’s exactly the point, Magnus.” He gazes at the stick of adamas. “I was twelve,” he begins. “A Shadowhunter at the institute had been outed as gay after the interrogation of a Seelie who happened to be his lover. Word got around and by the end of the day he’d killed himself in his bedroom.” He sighs deeply. “I’d never realised suicide was an option until then. I figured if the reaction was that bad for an ordinary Shadowhunter, then the reaction for the son of the head of institute would be much worse.” He looks Magnus in the eyes. “I realised then that I’d never be happy.”
Magnus frowns. He yearns to reach out and touch Alec but restrains himself. “What did you do?” he whispers.
“I cut my wrist,” Alec says. He drags his stele bottom-side up along his forearm, demonstrating. “I don’t remember drawing the iratze but next thing I knew I was sitting in a pool of blood and my arm was healed.” His lips quirk up mockingly. “Didn’t even leave a scar.”
Magnus sighs deeply. “You know, I was stood on a bridge, once. One just like this.” He feels the cool wind whip against his hair and for a moment, just a brief one, he’s back on that bridge in London.
Alec turns to properly look at him. “When?”
“In the 1870s,” Magnus replies. He sighs. “It was a long time ago.”
Alec’s gaze moves to the dull concrete, stele still clutched loosely in his hand. Magnus moves a little closer, until they are finally sat side by side, heads resting against the bridge ledge.
“What made you change your mind?” Alec asks.
Magnus’ expression does something complicated. “Camille,” he admits. “For better or for worse she was…my rock, I suppose. Back then.” He scoffs lightly. “Like I said, a long time ago”.
“Even Camille is good for something, I suppose.” Alec replies, voice still a low, dull sound that hits Magnus right in the heart.
He hums quietly, and finally lets his hand reach out to land on Alec’s arm. “You don’t need to do this, Alexander.” It’s a statement that could be applied to the many considerations running around in Alec’s head.
He studies Alec’s expression, something numb and miserable painted across it, a single tear dropping from his eye that Alec doesn’t even move to wipe away. “Do you want me to call someone?”
That get’s Alec’s attention, and he shakes his head. “No.” He moves to wipe the tears and sits up straight. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m a soldier. It’s my job to sort this all out.”
Magnus is taken aback by the sudden change, and hurries to follow when Alec stands up, pocketing his stele. “What are you going to do?”
Alec sighs roughly, schooling his face into something blank. “I’m going to plan a wedding.” He pauses slightly, and finally looks Magnus in the eye. “I’m sorry, Magnus. I really am.”
And with that, he slinks away, leaving Magnus standing on the cold concrete of the Brooklyn Bridge, evening air making him shiver slightly.
Later, Magnus will crash the wedding and the seal of their lips will be the promise of something new - something better than that night on the bridge, two lost souls desperate for comfort.
But until then - Magnus heads home. There’s nothing more here he can do.