WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CITY OF LOST SOULS.

Author's Note: After writing Wings That Fly You Higher Than Heaven, I wanted to write Malec that was a little bit more characteristic of Magnus and Alec. They're both extremely stubborn, Magnus was betrayed by Alec, and Alec is still hurting from Magnus pushing him away. BUT THEY (in spite of this fic's title) WILL HAVE THEIR HAPPY ENDING DAMNIT!

Damn-to condemn (to hell), Used to express anger, irritation, disappointment, annoyance, contempt, etc. (English)

Moving On

Chapter 1: Damn

Two Weeks Post-COLS, Magnus' Brooklyn Apartment, Late Evening, Magnus' POV

Damn, Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, thought, sitting on his couch, half-empty beer bottle in one hand, the other slung over his eyes. The front door of his apartment slammed shut, and Magnus sighed. That was the fifth… no, sixth man he'd brought home in just over two weeks. He'd found a pair of pants that weren't his, and certainly weren't Magnus', they had far too many holes and were two sizes too big for the warlock. He'd accused Magnus of using him to cheat on another man and then stormed out.

Removing his arm from his eyes, he opened them to see the wall of his apartment. Until recently, it had been a pale canary yellow, but now it was red. Blood red. You're getting too dramatic for your own good, you old fool, Magnus thought, standing. He wobbled a little as he rose, the bottle in his hand was this third or fourth.

He wandered back into the kitchen, putting the bottle on the table. The small silver key still sat where he had left it, an unopened note next to it. The note had taunted him every day. Sitting down, he stared at the shiny key until Chairman Meow jumped onto the table and walked into his field of vision. Reaching out to pet the white fluffball, his hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it grabbed the note sitting next to the cat. Bringing it back to his lap, he opened it. In his handwriting, angular and cramped, was written:

Magnus–

I know you'll probably never forgive me. But, seeing as I could very well die in the next few weeks, I needed to tell you this. What I did was insane. Totally, completely insane. I don't know what made me follow that note the first day from Camille, but I do, sadly, know what kept me coming back. She knew you, way back when. And I know you tell me you try not to dwell on your past, but… you didn't dwell on it enough for me. I always wanted to know more about who you were, not who the High Warlock was.

Camille was the only way I could find to accomplish that, seeing as you weren't talking, and you'd always change the subject. Or jump me. Magnus, I don't know why we never just talked, but that's one of my greatest regrets. I can't imagine the betrayal you feel right now, but I also don't think you can imagine the hole left in my heart knowing that it's all my fault and if I just hadn't been so stupid, it could have been prevented.

I'm not asking you for forgiveness. I'm asking you to move on with your life. You have eternity. Take it. I'll always love you, Magnus Bane. Never forget that.

–Alexander Lightwood

Damn, Magnus thought, tossing the note back on the table. Even through words, he could still steal Magnus' breath and heart. He knew he should burn it. It would be the sensible thing to do. But he couldn't. Instead, he took the note and the key and a lock of hair he had stolen from his head one night, and put them in an envelope. Pulling open the closet, he dug out a chest that contained his memories. Magnus dug through the chest, until he reached the picture he had pulled out six months before, the one of Tessa, Will, Jem, and the rest. It had been nearly fifty years before since he had seen that picture and now twice in a year. He returned it to the pile and threw the envelope in with it. Slamming the cover down, he put the trunk back in the closet and out of his mind.

Life would have to go on, of course. There was a war to prepare for. So he shoved his feelings behind a brick wall and stood up straight. Tonight he would go to bed and tomorrow morning he would wake up ready for the world.

The buzz of his doorbell brought Magnus out of sleep. His head pounding with the alcohol he had consumed last night, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to get the door. Having entered the kitchen and pressed the button, he asked, "Who is it, and what do you want at"-he glanced at the clock-"Eight o'clock in the morning?"

"It's Elowen," the voice on the other end said.

"Elowen, go away. I told you. I don't want to be bothered by petty problems any more. I've got my own problems to deal with," Magnus said darkly.

"Magnus, just let me come up for five minutes. If you don't like what I have to say, I'll leave," Elowen promised.

Magnus released the speaker's button and swore, but still buzzed Elowen in. A few minutes later, Magnus was decent in pajama pants and an oversized tee shirt (very pointedly not one of his), and let Elowen in. She breezed past him and sat down at the table, throwing a wrapped package on it.

"That's what you asked me to find, and I have it on reputable sources that it works. Not that I'm going to try, mind you," Elowen said.

"El, thank you, but…" Magnus started.

"But you don't want it anymore?" Elowen said with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't know what I want anymore," Magnus said, staring at the bundle. "What do I owe you?"

"A favour. To be redeemed at a future time," she said.

"What kind of favour?" Magnus asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It won't be too burdensome, I promise," Elowen said.

"Fine. Now, can you please tell whoever is buzzing that I'm not available today, on your way out?" Magnus asked, standing.

"Very well." Elowen followed suit. As she left, she turned back to Magnus and said, "Magnus? Sometimes it's better to forgive than to stick to your principles."

Magnus only blinked as he shut the door behind her. Looking around the apartment, he realized he hadn't cleaned it in nearly a month, since he'd summoned Azazel, the ring was still left on the floor. He normally took a few minutes each week to cast a few spells that set the place to rights, since having parties tended to mess it up. But there hadn't been any parties lately. And he didn't want to use magic to clean it. He was sick and tired of magic. Magic had ripped his boyfriend, no, the love of his life, away, and he wanted nothing to do with it for the moment. Besides, he could use the physical labour to take his mind off of his problems.

He walked to his computer and clicked randomly on the first song on his iTunes. Turning the volume up so loud he couldn't hear himself think, he reached under the sink for the seldom-used cleaning tools. He knew how to use them, of course. One didn't live eighty decades without figuring out a damn mop.

Three hours later, Magnus' arms hurt, but the place was sparkling clean. If his general mood had been better, he might have smiled, but as it was, he only grunted and put the supplies away. Three trashbags were full of things he had discarded from his bedroom, his piles of glitter among them. If he was moving on with his life, he was going to do it with a new attitude. One day at a time. Damn.

He sunk back into the depths of his despair and was about to conjure himself some hard liquor when a knock resounded on his front door. Cursing whoever was out there, he went into his kitchen and opened the door. On the other side stood someone who he'd hoped he'd never see again.

"What do you want?" he asked her flatly, barely managing not to slam the door in her face.

"Nothing you can give me, Bane. I'm here to give you this," Isabelle Lightwood said, handing Magnus a tote bag. "My brother threw this stuff out into the hallway before locking himself in his room and drinking himself into a stupor for two weeks. I hope you're happy with what you've done, warlock. I should've told him off from the beginning, but he was too in love with you. You do know that, right? He was, still is, in love with you."

"Of course I know that, Isabelle. That's why… Never mind. Goodbye," he said, emotions crashing through him as he shut and locked the door on her face.

Love. It was a foolish human emotion. Magnus sighed and opened the bag still in his hand. In it were all the pictures from their vacation, a spare pair of pants, and the scarf he had wound around his neck that day. The one that was the exact colour of those beautiful eyes.

Magnus threw the bag in the closet, and conjured the bottle he had been longing for before Isabelle had arrived. Maybe he wasn't ready to move on just yet.

Damn.

This chapter is a little shaky, especially since Magnus is angry and drunk, but as a warning, future chapters may contain an extremely gay depiction of Jace, Isabelle going slightly insane, and Alec wearing Clary's clothes. Because I can't write angst without having some crackfic thrown in. After all, crackfic is what I do best. Speaking of which, I have to go write some, because the ending of this chapter made me nearly cry. I'll leave out a box of chocolates for you guys. But remember, I only do happy endings. :). (By the way, the crackfic is *probably* going to be smutty... MAYBE.)

~Firefly