“I saw you leave,” Magnus comments quietly as he walks up to Alec slowly.
Alec’s sitting on the steps outside the church ruin, elbows propped up on his bent knees, watching the stars - or what can be seen of them in the middle of New York. He looks at Magnus over his shoulder. “After everything they’ve been through, I thought that they deserved some privacy.”
Magnus nods, heads down the stone steps, then turns back, towards Alec. “We haven’t finished our conversation yet…” he reminds Alec.
Alec watches him for a moment, then says, “I heard you, Magnus. And I think I understood what you were trying to say: that you’re immortal, not un-killable.”
When Magnus inclines his head in confirmation, Alec continues almost gently, “I heard what happened to your friend, Ragnor Fell. That he died. I’m very sorry. I wish I had the chance to meet him.”
Magnus smiles painfully. “He was an… interesting man, you would’ve liked him.” He reconsiders. “Or maybe not. His sense of humor took some time to get used to. An acquired taste, that was he.”
Alec chuckles quietly. “I think that’s one thing you warlocks have in common: you’re very odd. Unique. I really like that about you. I feel like, even if I lived to a ripe old age, I would never meet anyone like you ever again.”
Magnus grins, pleased. But his smile drops when Alec continues in a serious tone.
“But that’s the thing, Magnus. I might not, live to a ripe old age, that is. And I know that you said you can’t see the future, but us Shadowhunters, we don’t generally live long. We live fast and die young.” He looks off into the distance. “The last time I was in Idris… Alicante was half-empty; abandoned houses, vacant streets… We don’t want the Shadow World to know, but we’re dying out, us Nephilim.”
Magnus draws a sharp breath. Despite all his intell as the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he didn’t know.
“And now that Valentine has the Cup…” Alec looks at Magnus. “Shadowhunters won’t survive another war, we will be obliterated. But I’ll still be on the front line, for Jace, for my family. Because it’ll be the right thing to do…”
Magnus stares at him, the urge to beg Alec to run away with him, to leave all the fighting and killing behind, is almost overwhelming. But Alec would never agree - and Magnus would never ask that of him in the first place.
“So, yes, your immortality is something I’ll have to get used to, and I’m not saying I’ll be always rational about it,” Alec continues honestly, “I’m a bit too… mundane for that.” He smirks. “But you will have to accept my reality, too: I’m a soldier, and I’ve made my peace with the fact that I might die at any given moment, a long time ago. Can you do that? Is it even fair to ask this of you? To ask you to live in this uncertainty day after day?”
Magnus swallows and looks away, the reality of who Alexander is really sinking in, for the first time, his and Alec’s roles suddenly switched. Alec might die. Not in fifty years or even in ten, but tomorrow… Is it worth it? Is the certain pain worth it? The answer is very simple.
He turns back to Alec, leans in and catches Alec’s mouth with his, the kiss sweet and gentle. When he pulls back, he runs his knuckles down Alec’s lightly stubbled jaw. “How about we work on that? Together. Whether just a day or a whole lifetime, I would rather spend it with you than without.”
Alec leans into his touch. “Alright, we can do that,” he agrees, then smiles. “And how about we start with that date?”