Author's Note: I just watched 3x18 of Shadowhunters and I couldn't resist writing a fic of parabatai feels. They're kind of my muse, oops. So, yeah. This is set directly after the events of what Alec does in 3x18, so if you haven't watched that far yet, don't read this. There is a trigger warning for this fic, as it does contain self-harm, but it's pretty show-typical, nothing too graphic. There is lots of mentions of blood, though, so if this could trigger you, please stay safe and don't read. Please leave reviews, I love hearing what you think! As always, I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

~ Em

For hours, Alec wandered the streets of New York aimlessly. Part of him hoped he'd stumble across a demon just so he'd have something to kill. It would also be a perfect excuse to use his bow without gloves. He thought back to earlier that day, fighting the Drevak demon with Jace and Clary. He knew Jace saw, even in the midst of battle, that Alec wasn't wearing his archer's gloves to protect his hands from being sliced by the bow string. Alec also knew that if it weren't for his concern for Clary, he would've been cornered by his parabatai about it immediately.

Alec had gotten better since Magnus. He really had.

Before Magnus Bane waltzed into his life with glittery side glances and kind, understanding words, Alec resorted to pain as his coping mechanism more often than he cared to admit. The feel of the punching bag on his knuckles or his bow string slicing the skin of his hand until it was in raw, bloody slivers never failed to take him away from whatever powerful emotions he was dealing with. It was unhealthy, sure. But it worked. It had always worked, and perhaps that was what made it so dangerous.

So it wasn't really a surprise for Alec when he found himself in the training room hours later, firing arrows into a target five hundred feet away. They flew straight and true, as always, and it gave him a grim sort of satisfaction to know that the overwhelming tide of emotions simmering just beneath the surface weren't affecting his aim.

As the bow string cut into his palm again and again, Alec found himself remembering the last time he'd done this. It was after a mission he'd authorized had gone horribly wrong and several Shadowhunters were killed. He'd done damage control, called the families of the fallen warriors, and handled the Clave until there was nothing more for him to do. Then, he'd headed for the training room and punched his hands bloody on a bag for hours, until Magnus portaled into the Institute to see why Alec hadn't shown up that night. The warlock was the one who found him there, with clenched fists that dripped blood and wild eyes that couldn't stay in one place for more than a second.

Magnus had taken Alec's hands in his own and pressed a soft kiss to each of his bruised, bloody knuckles. Then, he led Alec through a portal and straight into the loft, where he allowed Alec to fall into his arms and tell him everything that had happened and everything that he was feeling. By the end of the night, Alec's hands were healed and his chest felt a thousand times lighter. He fell asleep beneath red silk sheets, curled up next to the man he loved.

That was five months ago.

Now, in the dark training room with only his bow and the rush of pain it provided, Alec felt horribly alone and found himself wishing for Magnus with an intensity he didn't know he was capable of.

By the Angel, he missed him.

Alec felt tears of frustration rise to his eyes and he blinked them away, shouldering his bow to take aim once more and let loose another arrow from his quiver. If he couldn't even go one damn night without Magnus, there would be no way he'd last the rest of his life.

The string sliced at his hand again and again, and Alec found himself relishing in the sensation more than he ever had before. This way, he didn't have to be weak. He didn't have to cry. He didn't have to panic. He didn't have to get angry or break things or try and get himself killed. This way, he could deal with himself without bothering anyone else or being a burden, especially when he was, ultimately, responsible for his own agony.

It was he who had broken up with Magnus, after all.

Anger shot through Alec like a lance, suddenly and passionately. That was right. He had broken up with Magnus. What right did he have to be here, feeling sorry for himself because of a breakup he'd initiated? Magnus was probably alone in Maryse's shop, drinking himself halfway to death, and it was all his fault.

Or maybe he wasn't.

That thought hit Alec like a brick to the face and he stopped in his tracks. Maybe Magnus wasn't as devastated as he was. Even though their love was something he'd bet his parabatai's life against, Alec still had doubts. They lurked in the back of his mind, impossible to get rid of, reserved especially for times like these, when his will was the weakest.

What if Magnus was completely fine without Alec?

If Asmodeus held up his end of the deal, it wouldn't be long before Magnus had his magic back. With his magic, Magnus could be happy. He would be happy. He didn't need Alec for that.

When Magnus was hurting, Alec hadn't been able to help him. He couldn't fix it. He couldn't pull Magnus from the pit he'd fallen into. And if he couldn't take away his boyfriend's pain, what good was Alec, really? At least this way, Magnus would be whole again. He would be able to have a life again. If that life had to be one without Alec in it, then so be it. Would that really be so bad?

The words from he and Magnus's breakup just before the mass slaughter of Downworlders by Valentine's hand came back to him in a rush.

"The only thing holding me back from doing that, is you."

Magnus had been right when he'd said that to Alec just before leaving him standing by himself in the hallway. Alec was holding him back. If it wasn't for him, Magnus wouldn't have lost his magic in the first place. He'd done it for Alec, to save his parabatai's life. In every single way, this was all his fault.

Alec reached for the last arrow in his quiver and sent it flying. The bow string carved another bloody line into his skin, injuring his sliced fingers even more. He didn't care. His thoughts were growing louder and louder, saying things like, Magnus is better off without you, you're holding him back, he doesn't need you, you're not good enough for him along with heavy doses of, You hurt Magnus, how could you, you're a monster. Monster, monster, monster -

Alec tossed his bow to the ground and strode forward, towards the punching bag hanging in the middle of the room. He didn't hesitate for a second before throwing himself onto it. The pain of the punch split his already bruised and bloody knuckles. He sighed in relief and tried to focus on the pain instead of the dark thoughts twisting inside his mind.

With any luck, the emptiness in his heart would fade with time. Magnus would become a memory, and he would be able to live, even if it was a mere shadow of an existence compared to what he used to have.

If it didn't, Alec didn't know what he'd do.

Before he met Magnus, Alec was ready to kill himself.

It was a hard truth and not something he would have admitted at the time, but it was the reality.

Alec was about two years away from letting a Shax demon shove its claws into his chest one night on patrol. He was a gay Shadowhunter, forced into exile by his parents and the Clave, held hostage by their expectations for him. Even worse, he was in love with the one person who could never, ever love him back: his parabatai. He lived to serve the very people that sought to disparage him. He thought he had no other choice than to follow every rule and be the perfect son, the perfect soldier that he'd always been taught he had to be. He was raised to believe that love was conditional, and it depended entirely upon his performance in the field and his ability to throw aside his own happiness for everyone else's.

Now, Alec knew that wasn't true. He had choices. He could be true to himself and still be a good Shadowhunter, still run the Institute, still receive his parents' love. But he knew that Magnus held a large part of him and always would. Magnus was the one who had made Alec realise he could have everything he wanted and keep everything he had. All it took was a chance. And Alec took that chance, for himself, but he never would have if it hadn't been for Magnus.

It was like he'd said to Lorenzo: Magnus was his world.

With that thought, Alec pummeled the punching bag in front of him. He could feel the tide rising within him, and he was determined not to let it spill over. He was strong. He could do this. He could deal with the consequences of his actions and he could do it by himself. And if he needed the pain to do it, well, no one needed to know that.

Alec's hands were a mess by then, but he had no plans to stop anytime soon. The pain was distracting; it kept the buzz in his head to a minimum and stopped the thoughts from consuming him. He needed this. He needed to feel this semblance of control over his life, over his emotions. Without it, he was nothing.

Alec was so engrossed in his suffering that he didn't hear the footsteps, the thunderous sound of boots thudding in the hallway, coming up to the training room until their perpetrator was close enough to see what was unfolding.

"Alec?"

Alec whirled around, immediately taking a defensive stance, but relaxed when he saw that it was only Jace. His parabatai stood just inside the doorway, staring at him. Or, rather, at the punching bag that was smeared with his blood, the arrows, over fifty of them, jammed into the wooden target overhead, and his discarded bow with its normally clear string slicked with crimson.

"Alec." Jace's voice was gentle, soft. He looked stricken. Alec dropped his hands to his sides, closing them into fists behind his back, where Jace couldn't see.

"What's wrong?" Alec could hear the concern in Jace's voice, and his worry filtered clearly through the parabatai bond.

"What are you doing here, Jace?" Alec grit out, ignoring the question.

"I woke up and felt that you were hurting," the younger boy replied from his place by the door. "You normally block the bond when you're going through something and don't want me to feel it, so I knew it had to be really bad if it was bad enough for you to forget to."

Alec cursed internally. Jace was right. How could he be so stupid?

"Well, I'm fine," he said, even though they both knew it was a blatant lie. "You can go now." To his horror, his voice broke on the last word, betraying his emotions to the other boy.

Jace's eyes softened and he said, "Not a chance, parabatai."

Knowing he wasn't getting out of the conversation that was sure to follow, Alec turned away and heaved himself onto a bench, letting his head hang heavy. He clasped his damaged hands together anxiously and waited for Jace to join him.

When the younger boy sat down next to him, Alec stiffened. He couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Talk to me, Alec," Jace urged him. "Come on, man. I'm your parabatai. You can tell me." When he received no response, Jace heaved a sigh and said, "Do you want me to call Magnus?"

At the mention of his warlock, Alec let out a choked sound, pinching the bruised skin on his knuckles.

This, of course, didn't go unnoticed by Jace, who placed a steadying hand on Alec's wrist to stop him from hurting himself any further. "Did something happen with Magnus?" The hand on his wrist began to rub back and forth in a gentle, comforting manner, and Alec found himself wanting, more than anything, to open up.

Though the words tasted bitter and poisonous in his throat, Alec forced his lips to part and utter the truth of what had happened earlier that evening. Jace deserved to know. "I broke up with him."

For a moment, Jace was bewildered. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was Alec's love for Magnus. He was about to open his mouth to question him when he stopped and it hit him. Alec watched as the realisation dawned on Jace's face, and his lips turned down into a frown, brow creasing in thought.

"So that's what that was about - earlier today? When you asked me what I'd do to get that Twinning rune off of Clary."

Alec nodded his admittance. "Yeah."

Jace's golden eyes seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the training room; a year ago, this fact would have endeared him to Alec, fueling his feelings for him. Now, it only made him wonder what was going through his parabatai's mind.

He didn't have to wonder for long.

Jace pulled Alec into a tight, bone-crushing hug. "You're such an idiot, Alec," he whispered to the older boy. "You're such a goddamned idiot."

Alec laughed, a little watery. While this was undoubtedly true in some regards, he still didn't feel he had made the wrong decision. With his magic, at least Magnus would be himself again. It didn't matter how he felt. All that mattered was that Magnus was happy.

Jace dug his hands into Alec's shoulders, as if he was trying to physically meld their bodies together into one. He ran his fingers through his parabatai's hair, holding him like he was the only thing on the earth. It was the most comforted Alec had felt since Magnus's brush with death, and he felt the dam finally beginning to break.

Tears spilled from Alec's eyes and onto the fabric of Jace's t-shirt. "He said he'd never be happy without his magic," Alec choked out. "He showed up drunk to dinner, Jace. I-I was going to propose, remember. But he was so upset. H-He sobbed into my arms for hours until he finally fell asleep. I-I couldn't let him go on like that. I had to do something. So I went to talk to Asmodeus."

A sharp intake of breath was the only sign Jace gave that he'd heard Alec. "Asmodeus said he'd give Magnus his magic back, but only if I broke up with him."

Jace closed his eyes. He understood now. Why Alec would ever sever the connection he had with Magnus - the only possible reason - was to make Magnus happy. And he truly believed that he was happy, that he could be happy without Alec. Jace sighed deeply. At some point, he needed to have a serious talk with his parabatai about how much he meant to the people who cared about him.

Now, however, was not the time for that.

Alec tried desperately to stop the tears from flowing, but they just kept coming, soaking Jace's t-shirt and staining his pale cheeks. Eventually, he gave up the battle and openly sobbed against his parabatai, who held him close and whispered soothing things in his ear, things like It's going to be okay and You're okay and I'm right here, Alec.

"I lost everything," Alec managed to say through his tears.

To his surprise, Jace pulled back just enough to cup Alec's face in his hands and gave him a serious look. "Not everything," Jace reminded him firmly, eyes boring holes into Alec's. "Not me. You will always have me, parabatai."

Alec drew in a sharp breath. Jace was right. He didn't lose everything. He still had Izzy and Clary and his mother and hell, even Simon. He still had Jace. He would always have Jace.

As if to confirm these thoughts, his parabatai placed a light kiss to Alec's forehead, a brotherly gesture of affection reserved for the very worst of times. "I've got you, Alec."

Alec sighed raggedly and buried his face in Jace's shoulder, trying to get control over his breathing. The other boy helped, placing one of Alec's hands on his chest and exaggerating his own breathing so Alec could copy him. Eventually, he had calmed down enough to speak, and he lifted his head to face his parabatai, his brother, gratitude shining brightly in his intense blue eyes.

"Thank you," Alec said sincerely. "I love you, Jace."

"I love you, too, Alec."

They stayed like that for a few more moments, breathing in the comfort and security of one another, before Jace placed an arm around Alec's shoulders and helped the older boy to stand. "You're sleeping in my room tonight," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Alec didn't protest. Truth be told, he didn't really want to be alone, anyway.

The pair got all the way to Jace's bedroom before the stele was brought out, and Jace was looking at Alec with those desperate, pleading eyes, and asking him if he could heal his hands in that soft, gentle way that he reserved for his siblings and Clary.

Alec almost said no. He wanted the pain, needed it, deserved it, but with the way Jace was looking at him, he couldn't bring himself to deny him anything.

Jace smiled lightly as he traced the stele over Alec's injuries, watching them close up and disappear, as though they were never there. Even years later, even though he was asking for something much more serious than a midnight trip to Pandemonium or an unsanctioned mission to a warlock party, Jace still knew how to work his parabatai to get what he wanted. It wasn't exactly an ethical talent, but it was a talent nonetheless.

Alec tried to mask his disappointment as his damaged hands returned to normal, but Jace had him in his arms before he could even pretend the iratze didn't affect him any. Alec sagged against his parabatai and fell into the hug, closing his eyes for just a minute.

When Jace released him, Alec felt infinitesimally better. The weight in his chest had lightened considerably, and his thoughts had retreated back to the dark corners of his mind, where they belonged. It wasn't perfect, and he wasn't alright, but it was a start. It was a single step in the right direction.

A sudden, bone-deep exhaustion hit Alec with a force that was enough to knock him off his feet, and when Jace tossed him a pair of his sweatpants and a new t-shirt, Alec was too tired to say anything, even to thank him. Instead, he changed quickly and slipped into bed beside Jace, who pulled him close and began to run his fingers through his thick black hair in a soothing manner.

Under his parabatai's gentle ministrations, it wasn't long before Alec felt sleep begin to suck him under. It had been a hard day, and tomorrow would be hard, too.

But no matter what happened, no matter how hard things got, Alec knew that as long as he had Jace, he would never be alone.