Untouchable

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments, or any related work. I think that would be obvious though...

Author Note: I wanted to write a story with an OC, so here we go... I know I already have so many stories to work on, but I want to give this a shot. Takes place sometime after City of Heavenly Fire. Maybe it's just me, but angel-centred stories are hella awesome, so that's pretty much what inspired this piece. Also... I've got no idea where I'm going with this...

Pairing: It starts off with Malec (sort of), and it will end with Malec, but the middle part of the story is going to be Alec/OMC.

Warnings: Definitely violence. Oh, and language. And maybe smut...? M/M smut, if there is any.

One: Alec

"It does bother me. I promised it wouldn't, but I can't live with the fact that one day, I'll grow old. And you'll fall out of love with me. You won't be able to stand the sight of me, my grey hair, my weakness. I'll go frail, then die. And that's assuming that my lifestyle won't kill me first. I'm going to die, Magnus, but you'll live on forever, move on, see new people, watch the world turn. You'll learn to let go of me. You'll keep living. You love me now, but you won't when I'm old. You can't when I'm dead."

I was now packing up a duffel bag, just clothes, and a few small weapons that I had in our apartment. I still had not moved everything out of the Institute, since I was there most of the time for meetings. I was already wearing gear, from a late night patrol prompted by boredom. I had my bow and arrows strapped over my shoulder, a short sword strapped onto my side, so all I needed was this duffel bag to be filled, and I could go. I was alone in the bedroom, Magnus had not said anything or moved from the couch after my speech, which took place after our argument, which had started out with him complaining about my sweaters. An argument that escalated into a shouting match about how his immortality. An argument started all because today, on my patrol, when killing a simple Ravener demon, I slipped up and pulled my calf muscle.

Such a simple injury.

But it meant so much more.

I would continue to injure myself, and as I grow older, it would only become worse. Sure, I was only twenty-six, I had plenty of time before my body grew fragile and would begin failing me, but time meant nothing to an immortal. Time, to me, went painfully slow, and it was torture, spending so many seconds thinking about my inevitable fate. To Magnus, seconds could not necessarily mean anything, and he could live forever. He was meant to live forever. And I would not.

And now, I had finally caved in, and voiced my fears to Magnus. Told him how tormenting it was, knowing he would move on from me. Told him I could not live like this. Then again, I really couldn't live without him. Ironic.

Holding my bag securely over my shoulder, I shuffle out the door and to the living room, where my beloved was sitting there. Just sitting with his shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the glass table in front of him, elbows resting on my knees and hands dangling in the air. I stand in the doorway, pulling at the strap digging into my shoulder, chewing my lip, unable to move forward. Like weights were holding my legs now. Slowly, Magnus lifts his head to look at me, the yellow and green irises wet, red-rimmed eyes squinting as though it pains him to look at me.

"You won't stay."

"You know I can't," I whisper, my voice choking slightly. I clear my throat, staring down at the floor as I shift my feet, watching my dark combat boots make muddy marks on the fluffy purple carpet.

"You won't be an immortal?"

"I'd need to give up Shadowhunting."

"Not if the rules were changed."

"The Clave is not going to change rules just because some guy couldn't live without his husband," I mumble, lowering my hand. Swallowing, feeling my eyes begin to sting, I tug the ring on my finger off, walking across the floor and setting it gently down on the table. Magnus follows it, his slit pupils burning into that golden circle. He looks up at me, and I have to look away when I see a tear start to form, sliding slowly down his cheek.

"Alec, stay." The break in his voice makes my own heart break.

"I'm sorry, Magnus," I whisper, turning away, heading for the door. If he pleads anymore, I will stay, but I will suffer too. The more he talks, the more I want to stay. The more words I hear, the harder it will be to let go. I was expecting more of a fight, more crying, more hopefulness and praying in those cat eyes, prayers that would wish against my departure. But he is silent the whole time, so I walk out the front door, down the steps and onto the street, the cold air whipping my hair into my eyes.

I do not want to go home. Technically, my home is with Magnus, but I suppose the only home I have now is the Institute. And I could not bear the family's questions of why I was there. My siblings pitying looks. My parents disapproval. No, what I needed was air, a walk, some time to think. To muse over the fact that I just walked out on my lover. Snorting at that thought, at how simple I make it sound, I begin walking down the street. Aimless, letting my feet take me wherever, avoiding roads filled with cars and people. It occurs to me that a rune would help me hide from Mundanes, not to mention my gear would attract stares from unknowing humans; I stop by an alleyway and draw a familiar black mark on my wrist before continuing on my way. I could at least now avoid part of the world's population.

At a park, I take a seat in front of a fountain. Numbly, I set my bag down beside me and stare at the sparkling water, contemplating my fate. Again, an old thought hits me. I can't live without Magnus. And yet I could not live with him. The water splashes, a light and soft noises ringing through the nearby area, and I look down at the stone sidewalk, grey and faded and dotted with dark water splashes. The air was colder now, I knew I arrived at the apartment around eleven thirty, and argued with Magnus for fifteen minutes. It must be past twelve by now.

Magnus.

What had I just done?

"You just walked out on him, idiot," I say to myself, squeezing my hands into fists. The nails dig into my palms. My jaw clenches. Inhaling a shaky breath, I glare at the water droplets on the ground, like they were the cause of all my misery. I take in another breath, closing my eyes since they were stinging again. My body begins to tremble, hands shaking. Another breath. I blink my eyes, willing myself not to start crying on a bench in the middle of a park, where someone could just waltz up. How humiliating it would be for a demon to catch me off guard while I'm sobbing away. Though death was invited, I would not face it crying.

Wiping my wet eyes with a quick swipe, I take long careful breaths, ignoring the throbbing in my throat. I still stare at the water droplets, no longer glaring, just watching them. Disassociating. I did not really want to think, about anything anymore. The moonlight reflects off of the drops, turning them into a mixture of silver and white on the dark concrete. Water reminded me of Valentine's ship, years ago. When Magnus had drained so much of his power, for me, for a cause that he believed in. He was so kind, so unbelievably nice at heart, not to mention eccentric, that when he admitted he liked me I was honestly surprised. More than anything, I was surprised, because I was so ordinary. Mortal. He loved that though. Mortality. In its own way it had joined us, and now it separated us.

"Why stare at the ground?"

Feeling my heart jump, I glance to my side to see a man standing there, staring up at the sky, a dark red hood partially covering his face.

"W-wha... are you talking to me?"

"Of course. There's no one else around. Well, maybe the trees... and the grass," the man says with a soft smile, not tearing his gaze away from the sky. I shift a bit in my spot, completely unnerved. How had I not sensed him coming? Plus, he was talking like the kind of person that was a murderer in a horror movie. I slowly wrap my fingers around the handles on my bag, my other hand slowly reaching aside and brushing the hilt of my sword. I'd prefer my bow and arrows, but I needed both hands free to grab my bag. It held all my essentials.

"Why are you staring at the ground?" He repeats his question again, still not bothering to look at me. I frown, sitting up more while silently hoping that this man will go away. I stare at his eyes, the soft brownish-gold flickering between dark lashes. Gold reminds me of Jace's eyes. I remember when Jace had the heavenly fire in his blood, that gold only seemed so much intense, more powerful. It came at such a large price that time, he had nearly died, been stabbed by an archangel's sword. Which wasn't too bad, when looking at the whole picture. He had already died once, and I could not thank Clary enough for choosing Jace's life as her one wish to Raziel. Clary was a clever girl. But Sebastian was another price, he was supposed to have died, but of course, if Jace could come back, then a monster from the demons could come back. The balance had to be maintained. One light, one dark. But that was a story to dote on another time.

"Why... are you staring at the sky?" I retort with uncertainty, trying not to stutter. Great comeback, Alec. Isabelle and Jace were my siblings, so one would think my comebacks were better, being raised next to two of the most smart-ass people on the planet. But, no, I was supposed to be the model son after all. The man actually laughs, turning his head to look at me fully. He was attractive, if I was honest. Strong jaw, triangular, but also rounded, and dark curling hair. The kind of face that was angelic and soft, young, youthful. He barely looked twenty. The man was still smiling brightly at me, and I look down, catching a sight of his clothes. All red, from the pants to the boots to the jacket. Well, I'd seen stranger clothes.

"What's your name?" He raises his eyebrows as he asks, the corners of his lips turning up. I shrug, not sure if I should give him my real name.

"Ah...Gideon." Not a lie, technically.

"Nice to meet you Gideon," he says briefly before looking up at the sky again, eyes squinting slightly, the thick lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. I follow his gaze to look up, seeing dark storm clouds that were grey with tints of purple. I look back at him, my fingers tightening around my bag's handles as my nerves dance, willing me to run. "As I was saying, why are you staring at the ground? The sky is too inconceivably beautiful to be ignored."

Raising my eyebrows, I follow his gaze back up to the sky. "There's just a bunch of clouds." I should not be entertaining this conversation, but the sky was too ugly tonight to be called beautiful.

"There is a few stars."

"There's a lot of clouds still," I say again, staring at the dark skies that will surely be bringing rain later.

"The stars are nice."

"There's only, like, three," I mumble, shaking my head.

"But imagine how many more there are," he says with another soft smile, eyes lighting up as he searches the gloomy sky for another sign of some bright ball of plasma billions of light years away. I frown and stare at him, watching him stare at the stars with a loving look. He smiles more, opening his mouth to speak again. "It's a mundane notion, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"The beauty of the stars," he mumbles with a deep sigh, eyes still fixed up above. "Imagine, stars are nearly immortal in a mundane's eyes. They want to be like the stars, to be as everlasting and radiant. But all that light comes with a price. It takes forever for those lights to reach Earth. The stars may be dead by the time that happens. To be a star wouldn't be a great life. Imagine, never living long enough to see what your light has touched. Or worse, to become a husk, dark and brittle, forever looking at a world that no longer needs your light, no longer searches for it. To never be able to affect anything again."

"... Um, yeah," I say slowly, unsure of how to respond. He hums a bit, glancing back at me.

"Am I boring you?"

"What? No, I'm just..." I trail off and look around, my foot tapping nervously. I will it to still. "I'm just sitting here." What a great conversationalist you are Alec.

"Ah. Sitting is always nice."

"Uh, right. What's your name?" I look back at him, narrowing my eyes with apprehension. He smiles again, looking back at the sky with a thoughtful expression.

"Jo, I guess," he says, and I nod, not liking the way he states his name. I guess. Like there was more to be said, and he was refraining from telling me. I bite my lip as I stare at him, suddenly wondering what species he was. His eyes were so unnatural, I would guess Warlock. Not a Vampire or Werewolf. Maybe Fae, he had that angelic beauty like them, and talked just as cryptic. Definitely not Nephilim. And not a mundane, unless he was a mundane with the Sight to see me, but he talked about them like he was not a part of them. So, not a mundane.

"Okay, Jo. I... I should really be going," I say carefully, making my way to stand. He just nods, his face calm and distant looking.

"Are you homeless?"

"Uh... what? I'm sorry?" I frown and stiffen, halfway through the motion of standing up. He looks back at me, this time looking at my clothes first before lifting his eyes to my face, his expression still calm.

"Are you homeless?"

"Of course not," I say immediately, frowning. I guess I was in a way, given that I had just vacated my 'home', but this fact only makes me suspicious. Was he a mind reader? Did he stalk me? Narrowing my eyes, I straighten up. "Why do you ask?"

"You are sitting on a park bench at midnight. According to a woman I met early, that is a clear sign of homelessness," Jo says, looking at the fountain. "Plus, your sweater has so many holes. You need a new one."

"My sweater..." I pause, glaring daggers at him. So many sentences were on the tip of my tongue. My sweater is comfy. My sweater is mine, and I like it. Pointless defences, all of which I had become familiar with. Because Magnus pointed out my 'flawed' sweaters on a nearly-daily-basis. Threatened to trash them, burn them, he offered to buy me new ones. Suddenly, I feel my throat burning, and my eyes begin to water. Magnus. I already miss our tiny pointless arguments over my sweaters. Pulling at my sleeve, I look down while at a loss for words. All the things I could say vanish from my mind as soon as Magnus is in it.

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I'm not crying," I say numbly, anger and sadness mixing deep inside my chest. I turn away, hanging my head as I throw my bag's strap over my shoulder, sinking my hands deep into my pockets. "Bye, Jo."

"Jo," he says softly, almost wistfully. I pause and glance over my shoulder, only to see him staring after me with a sad look on his face. He smiles, the look slightly pained. "It's Jophiel."

"Oh. Well, bye Jophiel," I say carefully, liking the way his name plays out on my tongue. His smile widens, and he resumes looking back at the dark sky. I turn away and begin the long walk to the Institute, my strides fast and long. I want to get away from the man that makes me both confused and nervous. Even if he was fairly kind, and talked about random things, I did not want company. Magnus' absence, a result of my own doing, is playing heavily on my emotions. Affecting my mind. Sleep seems so inviting now, a quick and effortless escape, and maybe tomorrow morning, I can work through all my problems. Wiping my eyes again, hating myself for a moment, I walk out onto the street, my eyes fixed on the ground. Something cold hits my cheek. Reaching up to touch it before displaying my hand in front of me, I groan at the hints of liquid on my hand. Water. I look up to the sky, feeling another droplet hit my forehead. The rain has begun.