The Bane of Their Persistence

Summary: "Put away your arrows, Cupid. You won't be needing them today." / When the high warlock of Brooklyn received a parade of unwelcome visitors, he couldn't help but wonder: Why was his love life, or lack thereof, cause for public concern? Missing scenes from CoHF. Magnus/Alec implied.

Disclaimer: All source material belongs to Cassandra Clare and associated parties. None of the characters, setting, or anything else from the Shadow World belongs to me. I'm just borrowing them briefly for my own amusement. Contains mild spoilers for CoLS and CoHF.

Rating: K+

A/N: Takes place sometime after Magnus and Alec's breakup at the subway station at the end of CoLS. When I read the Magnus/Jace confrontation in CoHF (quoted below) I wondered what those three previous encounters might have been like. So here they are – my version, at least. Enjoy!

"You're Alec's friend. Alec was my boyfriend, so I had to put up with you. But now he's not my boyfriend, so I don't have to put up with you. Not that any of you seem to realize it. You must be the – what, fourth? – of you lot to bother me." […] "Clary. Isabelle. Simon – "

– Magnus to Jace / The Mortal Instruments City of Heavenly Fire © Cassandra Clare [p. 46]

Chapter 1: Put Away Your Arrows, Cupid

It was only a week after he ended things with Alec that Magnus began to realize the full extent of the fallout.

It shouldn't have come as such a surprise. He always knew that Shadowhunters came with an impressively large set of baggage, just as he knew that dating one was inviting said baggage into his own life. What he didn't know was that it would continue haunting him even after the relationship was dead and buried.

It began with the sound of a doorbell.

Across the living room, the warlock sat up abruptly. If someone made it up the stairs to his door without first being buzzed into the building, they did so with assistance. Magical assistance. Runes, most likely. Tools of the Nephilim.

A Shadowhunter.

Magnus sighed. Ever since he and Alec had parted ways in the subway station, he had received no less than thirty-seven phone calls and texts and he did not answer a single one. After the first dozen messages had clogged his inbox, he stopped checking his phone altogether. There wasn't any need. They all followed the same theme. He was sorry. He screwed up. He missed him. I just want to talk, Magnus, just call me back –

The doorbell buzzed again, and Magnus was strongly tempted to ignore it. But he supposed he could only put off the inevitable for so long.

Securing his loose bathrobe, he dragged himself to the door, his squeaky slippers protesting with every step. He glanced through the peephole only to furrow his brows at what he saw.

Then again, on some level, shouldn't he have expected this, too?

Without a word the door swung open, revealing a petite redhead on the other side.

"Hey, Magnus."

He blinked. For a moment he was reminded very much of Jocelyn, who used to visit him every two years, daughter in tow, to shield her young mind from the horrors of the Shadow World. Now, Clary Fray appeared full of the same shining determination as her mother, clearly confident – though likely just as misguided – in whatever incentive brought her to his doorstep.

"Sorry, biscuit," he told her, "but Saint Magnus's Home for Wayward Shadowhunters is officially out of business. But feel free to check out the Motel 6 three blocks over."

Clary levelled him with a look. "I'm not here for room and board."

"I figured," said Magnus. "But it's like I already told you – well, you, Maryse, Brother Zachariah, and a long list of other inquiring parties – there's nothing I can do about your pyromaniac boyfriend. That kind of help is far beyond my pay grade."

He could have told her that in spite of such, he had already made several extensive (though ultimately fruitless) attempts to improve Jace's prognosis. He could have told her that in spite of centuries of magical expertise, he found himself stumbling through uncharted territory, and that the mystery of the heavenly fire was proving to be one of the biggest roadblocks the warlock had ever encountered.

But Magnus said nothing further on the subject. He saw no reason to dampen Clary's optimism sooner than necessary.

"I'm not here for that either," she said as her eyes fell to the floor. She tucked a nonexistent lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly looking smaller in his doorway. "Besides, Alec told us about your new mandate on freeloaders. How you're sick of being our go-to fix-it guy. I got it. Message received." There was a bitter edge to her voice, but when her gaze shifted back up, she looked bright and unaffected. "Speaking of Alec," she segued. "Have you heard from him lately?"

Magnus stared at her. "Don't tell me that's the reason you're here. As we speak, Jace is slowly being consumed by a dangerous force he can't control; the Nephilim stand on the brink of war against a psychopath who makes Valentine look like a frightened Chihuahua; and you choose to focus on the insignificant feelings of two incompatible individuals?"

"So you do still have feelings for Alec."

"Of course that's your takeaway," sighed Magnus. "Well, put away your arrows, Cupid. You won't be needing them today."

"Right. Because you still have feelings for him."

"Because it's none of your business," he corrected firmly. "Clary, I realize it's difficult, given your meddlesome nature, but would you kindly butt out of my personal affairs?" A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Did Alec send you?"

"Isabelle, actually," she admitted. "She seemed to think I'd be better at this sort of thing. Whatever that means." She shook her head. "Anyway, Izzy might've put the idea in my head, but it didn't take much convincing. I wanted to come."

"Is that so?"

Clary nodded. "Does that surprise you?"

"Not really. Clarissa Fray, getting involved when she ought to leave well enough alone. Must be Thursday." Before she could retort, he added, "Although why you'd decide to board this sinking ship is beyond me."

"Don't you mean sunken ship?" she asked pointedly, looking far too smug for someone who still hadn't earned an invitation inside. "Course not. Because you don't actually believe you and Alec are beyond repair."

"Debatable."

"You still care about him," she insisted again.

"Of course I still care," said Magnus impatiently. "But sometimes that isn't enough. You of all people should know that."

Confusion darkened her face. "What are you talking about?"

"Jace, of course. You love him, but you can't be with him – I mean really be with him – thanks to some, ah… divineintervention." He crossed his arms and gave a lazy shrug. "Sometimes caring about someone isn't enough to drown out the rest," he reiterated.

For a moment Clary looked stricken, but she recovered quickly. "You're right. I can't be with the one I love the way I want to. I'd do anything to change that, but I can't and it kills me. It kills me, Magnus. But you," she went on, her chin lifting, "you have the chance I wish I had. You both clearly miss each other, there's nothing stopping you from being together, you actually have a choice – "

"Exactly," interrupted Magnus. "It's my choice. Not Alec's, not yours. Mine. And as for nothing stopping me – " He cut off abruptly; he'd already said enough.

Dimly Magnus registered the soothing ruffle of Chairman Meow's fur against his bare ankle. He didn't look down, instead watching as Clary's expression softened at his outburst. "Look, I'm not saying Alec deserves an automatic pass for what he did. I mean, going behind your back with Camille was pretty low. But he seems pretty miserable about it. And," she rushed on when he made to intervene, "so do you. Might as well be miserable together."

"Like you and Jace? How poetic."

Unlike before, the remark rolled right off her. "You know I'm right."

Something in her tone struck a familiar chord, and Magnus regarded the young Shadowhunter curiously. No longer did she remind him of her guarded mother. Rather, her absolute certainty reminded him of the brazen girl who once gatecrashed his party and demanded the memories he stole from her, even after repeated warnings of the ugly truth that awaited her. She had not been swayed then, and she would not be swayed now.

Neither would he.

Magnus leaned back and something small and soft caught underfoot. A loud, indelicate yelp followed as the Chairman scampered off somewhere behind him. Again, Magnus barely spared him a glance.

"This has all been very informative and heartfelt and not at all annoying," he told Clary, "but enough is enough. Now please: go away."

Clary peered at him for a long moment, looking unsure about something until finally, she relented with a nod. "Fine. I said my peace anyway." She started shuffling backwards.

"Hallelujah."

Clary rolled her eyes before she turned around, heading for the stairs.

Before she descended, however, and before he could stop himself, Magnus called out. "Why did you come here, Clary? The truth."

She froze at the landing and glanced back. If the question surprised her, she hid it well. "Well, I could say I'm here for Alec. My friend. Isabelle's brother. Jace's parabatai. Or maybe it's completely self-serving. Maybe it's just my pathetic attempt to play matchmaker while my own love life goes up in flames. Literally. I mean, it's not like there's anybody else I'd be here for… is there?"

Her eyes lingered, making her point clear. Magnus's eyebrows shot up, surely vanishing beneath the wilted spikes on his head.

Without waiting for a response, Clary flashed down the stairs in a blur of coppery hair, but not before Magnus caught the hint of a smile and the parting words "see you around." It wasn't until she disappeared altogether that he thought to contradict her.

For several minutes Magnus didn't move from the doorway, not until a light draft began creeping inside, causing him to shiver in his modest attire. With an about face, he trekked back to the living room.

It was strange. The interruption was over and relief settled over him gradually like a light drizzle. But, he realized with no small amount of surprise, he wasn't sure whether the feeling stemmed more from obtaining her long overdue absence… or her honest answer.

Magnus sank back into the sofa as soon as he reached it. One thing was clear.

He never should have answered the door.

A/N: It's been awhile since I've read the series, and although I did do a bit of rereading, try not to hold it against me if my facts or timeline are a bit off. Hopefully it's believable enough. Next chapter should be coming out soon, so stick around!