Si on devait mourir demain, qu'est-ce qu'on ferait de plus?

Clary looked around, barely recognising where she was anymore. Several days ago, if someone had asked her what her impression of Idris was, she would have said paradise on earth, with the wide expanse of greenery, sprawling hills that went on and on for miles, the mysterious Lake Lyn that made her hold her breath each time she stood at its edge and finally being part of the Shadowhunter community, with Alec by her side. But now, on the eve of the end of the world, her answer would be vastly different. The wards had fallen, demons were running rampant throughout Idris and much of the buildings had been burnt down.

She had never expected such an outcome- a clash between the Shadowhunters, the good and the misguided. Her biological father led the latter group, her mother forced to be by his side. And she had an older brother. One who if she had a choice, she would not have asked the Angel for. It was only several days ago that she had discovered the truth about her parentage and Maryse had said to her, perhaps it was better not knowing, as if she had known all along that things would end this way.

As the rest of the New York Institute mourned the death of Max Lightwood, she found herself wandering down the corridors of the now unfamiliar place. It was the day of his death that she understood the meaning of the phrase, "a home is only as good as the people in it." The place she had once thought was comforting was no longer the same. Isabelle no longer had that confident vibe she always carried, Jace wore such a haunted expression that it seemed as if one part of him had died with Max. And Alec, she could not bear to look at him. He had closed off all his emotions, the look in his eyes deliberately detached. It was as if the moment he let someone in, everything would start crumbling down, himself included. She knew Max's death hit him the hardest from the sobbing she heard coming from the room across hers, the careful rearrangement of the expression on his face when he came out of his room, as though he did not want anyone to see his moments of weakness. She understood his reasons perfectly. He was the eldest, he could not afford to break down in front of others, not on the brink of a war.

It was surprising how on the eve of a war she did not feel any fear. Like she had accepted the prospect of dying. There would never be a winner on the battlefield, only death, destruction and devastation. All her life, she had been told that Shadowhunters rarely lived long lives, and she had had several close brushes with death. But even with Death's handmaiden riding proudly in the horizon, all she wanted was to be in the arms of Alec for one last time. If this was their last day, she did not want to live it in fear and sadness. And she wanted her last day to be spent with him, even if it might seem unreasonable to demand something like this from him in this time of mourning.

Taking her sketchbook and tucking herself into an alcove barely large enough for her, she flipped through the pages filled with her sketches of her family and the runes she had seen in her mind. She had spent a good bulk of that morning, pencil in her hand, trying to force a rune out of her mind. A rune which would help stop the war. But nothing came, just a vague image of lines and loops. It was as though she was seeing the image through a faulty transmission where parts of it were hazy and unclear. Flipping to the last few pages, where the signs of her futile attempts could be seen- images drawn and cancelled out in frustration, she sighed and closed her eyes, willing the right image to appear.

"What are you doing?" a familiar voice asked, making her open her eyes to look at that person.

"It's you," she breathed, a little surprised at the relief in her voice. Alec had finally come out of his room, though the expression in his eyes was still carefully guarded. "I've been trying to draw something I've seen in my mind, but I haven't been able to."

"Don't push yourself," he whispered, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of the same thing.

She fought the urge to ask him how are you feeling, knowing that if she was in his position, that was the last thing she would want someone to ask her. "I won't," she replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

He nodded and turned to leave, as quickly as he came. But she did not want him to leave, not when he was finally out of his room. She stood up to grab his wrist and said to him, "Don't leave."

Stopping in his tracks, he turned back and looked at her, a puzzled expression in his eyes. Finally a change, she thought, as she tried to convey what she was thinking with the expression in her eyes, Stay, don't go. I've missed you. I know you're hurting, so am I, but if we're all going to die tomorrow, I'd rather not live this last day like this. Several moments of silence passed before he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed before pulling her into his arms.

"You know, I was thinking…" he started, and she waited for him to continue, "how life is so short and unpredictable. One day you're alive, and the next you're gone, with your family members mourning for you. Max probably never thought that that day was going to be his last. He was always jabbering about the new chapter of manga to be released at the start of every month, but he never expected that there would be one week when it would be his last time saying that." His voice cracked towards the end. "I'm done crying, Clary. For now and perhaps for good. I'm done acting like I'm one of the dead when I'm still alive. When today might be the last day I'll ever see."

She took a sharp intake of breath, shocked at how his thoughts paralleled hers. "If today's our last," she paused, gauging his reaction, "then I want to spend it with you- do all the things we've always wanted to do together, but have not done; lie in your arms and watch the sky turn to dark on the beach and fall asleep with you holding me tightly and never letting me go."

He kissed her temple and added, "If today's our last, then I would do all those things with you and for you, and I would love you again and again, as much as my heart can bear." Clasping his hand in hers, with a hint of the smile she loved teasing at the corners of his lips, he asked, "So where to first?"

"The ocean," she answered simply, as he drew out his stele to make a Portal. As it opened and they stepped through it, the balmy breeze of the Atlantic Ocean caressed her face as they found themselves along the seaside in Faro, the cool waters of the ocean lapping at their feet. She flinched at the sudden cold sensation against her skin and he wrapped his arms around her even tighter as his lips met the hollow of her collarbone. She pulled him along as she fell back onto the soft sand, their limbs entangled as they looked up at the setting sky. The hues of pinks and oranges and reds blended together as the sun gradually dipped below the waterline in the distance.

She felt his lips against hers, soft but urgent. Parting her lips for him, she weaved her fingers in his hair as she pulled him closer to him. The length of his body pressed against hers, his fingers teasing the bare skin between her shirt and the waistline of her pants, sending pleasant tingles down to her feet. She bit on his lower lip, eliciting a groan from him. And they continued kissing, touching, memorizing each other's features, remembering the feel of his fingertips on her skin and her lips on his skin. It was Alec who finally broke away, this time finding himself beneath her. They had lost count of how many times they rolled over in the sand. Brushing sand away from his hair and face, she smiled at him before letting herself fall next to him. He laughed, the first in many days and she joined him, their mirth and laughter blending in as one, for perhaps the last time.

Moi, je t'aimerais.

Author's Note: The quotes in French were taken from a song, Mourir Demain by Natasha St Pier.

Translated:

If you were to die tomorrow, what would you want to do the most?

Me, I would love you.