It's, uh, really short... 2k. But that's okay, I guess. I've started another new fic, Blind, which is nice and angsty and maybe you'll want to check it out. (They actually love each other in this one... Some crazy shit.

Yes, I planned it like this.

"It is our attitude at the beginning of a difficult task which will affect its successful outcome."

-William James

Restless Heart syndrome Chapter 10 A Matter of Time

Alec sighs, snuggling further into Magnus as he tucks himself as much as possible with his six-month pregnant belly into the couch. The Warlock is so… warm. It's nice, really nice, to feel the press of someone else against him after so long of being… well, alone. He doesn't even want to admit how much he's missed this. How much he's missed Magnus, despite living with him the whole time. He's just missed being like this, on a mucky day sitting around and pretending he doesn't have a permanent case of cabin fever.

He misses kissing Magnus, being held by Magnus, talking to Magnus... Oh Angel, how could he have gone so long without it? As he exchanges words that somehow mean more than just a series of sounds and ideas pressed through lips, he understands just a bit more of what it feels like to be on top of a miserable world. He feels like nothing can touch him. That today will be a good day. The first in a series of long, forgiving and healing weeks. Another chance to live his life. Angel, he even finds himself wanting the horrible little creature tucked up inside of him. It's his and Magnus's, he thinks, romanticizing it. It's theirs, and if he's practically lost to the Clave and Shadowhunting this better be damn worth it. It's not like he can actually get rid of it anyway, not with the web it's building inside of him.

"I've missed you," he admits, shifting under the warm blanket draped over them. It's nice... peaceful. Here, in this bubble of space and seemingly time with the love of his life, away from the perils of normal shadowhunter life, he can just live for the now and not blame anyone for the part where he'll be abandoned by everything he knows once he's had this baby. It's okay; he's okay.

"I've missed you, too," Magnus nods.

It had started too easily. But that's how most fights start, isn't it? Easily. Innocently. Of course, it's usually a build-up that leads to an explosion but sometimes you just start bickering and then you're not just bickering anymore, you're trying not to cry as the person you love most screams at you and you scream back even though you know it's not in your best interest, that you really don't want to be doing this but they're doing it too and you just can't help yourself even with that nagging voice digging in your head. Suddenly you're screaming your worst at each other.

It's not Magnus and Alec's first fight like this; they've had a couple, maybe even a few, started by one or the other or even Chairman Meow that one time. That wasn't a good day, and today was supposed to be a good day. Alec had predicted it. It was also Alec who spat the first insult. And instead of taking it, like Magnus sometimes would, like Alec sometimes would, he fired back. And it went on, their bodies coiling in on themselves as they fought over something of absolute irrelevance that immediately became of utmost importance.

Alec really needs to stop starting these things. It can't be a good thing for a relationship for them to fight this much. But they do fight this much, and it's horrible. Magnus always manages to get the last word in, though, and this time is no different as he yells one last time and leaves for the bedroom, fighting the urge to just walk out. But Alec's collapsed on the floor in the middle of the living room, and ignoring the shock of pain through his protruding, awful, horrible belly as he does so.

He sits there, holding his knees around the parasite, ignoring the waves of pain that flow over him as he sobs into himself. He's so weak. He shouldn't be crying like this; he's a shadowhunter, a man. He was never this emotional before Magnus fucking dumped this thing in him, quite literally. It's all Magnus's fault, they should have used a damn condom. Now he's swollen up like a pumpkin and alone with the monster that won't be going away for another three months. He can't do this, he doesn't want to do this. He wishes that this thing inside him were gone. He can't support it, not like he is, he'll have to start anew in the mundie world and relearn everything. He won't be able to get a good job because they Clave won't give him papers after they learn what an abomination he is, they won't help him and he won't be able to speak with Isabelle or Jace or even Maryse, though that really wouldn't change how much they see each other anyway. He's already been cast aside by his family. Maybe they can't help it, but right now Alec really doesn't care under the crushing sensation of loneliness.

He flops onto his back, determined to stop crying and glare at the ceiling, only to find himself gasping as his womb shivers, rearranging itself. It's not like anything he's ever felt before; it's not like the kick, not like his runes burning, not like anything he's ever gone through with this dreaded pregnancy business. It's like a tensing of some sort, uncomfortable, a building tension that suddenly runs down the length of his belly and to his pelvic bone where it intensifies and Alec's crying out despite himself because the pain is sitting there, building, like it's trying to do something else but it can't because the right equipment isn't there.

Breathing heavily, Alec tries to calm himself as he struggles to sit up, eventually himself up on a chair and panting for a few seconds because it hurts before he stumbles to the bedroom door. It's locked, and he calls out but Magnus is igno pulling ring him. He won't open it, and Alec can't hold himself up any longer. He slides to the floor, bumping up a bit and jarring himself as he hits the wood flooring. And angel, it hurts.

It starts again, like another round of a match he doesn't want to be in, and it strikes at every part of his body while hitting at his belly. He's having trouble finding the breath required, and his forehead is steadily accumulating sweat. He hits at Magnus's door, hoping the warlock with open it as a wetness encases his legs. He arches his back, crying out as he literally feels like he's being torn apart from the inside. He slides sideways from the door to the floor, lying on his side, searching for air that just isn't there as the most intense hurting he's ever felt runs through him. It feels like when he was dying because of the greater demon, only worse.

"Magnus!" He calls, because he needs the warlock, no matter what he said not ten minutes ago. He needs something, anything, to make this stop. He can't handle it. It burns, and the pain building up just above his ass is on fire. He whimpers as another wave passes over him, and the pain is intensified as suddenly whatever the hell was building grows thick enough to shift through and break. Angel, he really is being split open.

He can feel the moistness of his own blood on his legs, running to the floor. For a moment, stupid, all he can think about is the stain it's going to leave but then his thoughts are back on how awfully screwed up he is. Weren't contractions supposed to start out being twenty minutes apart from each other? Why are they every three minutes, then? This shouldn't be happening. It's three months too early. At this point, the baby's chance for survival is literally fifty percent, and that's with all sorts of hospital equipment. This shouldn't be happening. Maybe if he pretends it isn't happening, it won't be happening.

"Magnus!" He cries, trying to get the glittery man's attention from inside their room as another wave of pain crashes over him. "Please," he gasps. "Magnus, I think-oh shit, I think there's something wrong with the baby! Fuck," he curses.

It only takes Magnus a moment to open the door, his features harsh then softening and turning to worry as he sees his boyfriend (if they're still even that) curled up on the floor, the floor off color from what looks like a hell of a lot of blood. Then, he's worried. He knows just as well as Alec that this is too fucking early.

With a snap, he's levitated Alec, and puts him in the room he had the werewolf woman give her eight or whatever pups in. Another flick of Magnus's fingers and Alec's completely naked, something Alec's grateful for, and not for the first time. BUt he can't think of those times now, not in a good way because this is what came of it and now his body is erupting in the most exquisitely horrible pain and he just hates it. How could he let this happen to himself? How could Magnus have let this happen? Damn fucking warlocks are supposed to be sterile. He's supposed to be a male shadowhunter. Fuckitall.

Alec's back arches unnaturally for his swelled state and his eyes open wider than they should ever go. He feels something rush up the back of his throat and he's coughing, and he sees the panicked look in Magnus's eyes. This doesn't mean... It can't. He has to fight. Another smash of screams runs through his bleeding and disfunctionate throat as Magnus tries to combat his own magic within Alec, but it isn't enough. Magnus can't overpower himself.

Alec lets more tears run down his cheeks, and now, he doesn't care how pathetic they are. It doesn't matter. "If he's a boy... name him Max."

When the door opens Brother Zachariah does not expect to see Magnus standing there with a haunted look and covered with blood. He hopes it's for some spell, or something, because that isn't a shy amount. He's almost scared to ask for Alec, fearing the familiar warlock might have killed the man, but does anyway.

Magnus leads him into the apartment, and collapses on one of the chairs. "Jem," he says, and the Brother is surprised that Magnus is using his real name. He thought they weren't going to be doing that anymore? He wasn't Jem anymore, he was Brother Zachariah. "Why are you here?"

Jem pauses, wondering briefly just how careful he has to be about his words. It was my intention to see Alexander, he starts, watching his old friend visibly deflate.

"Why?' The tired-eyyed warlock inquires, running a reddened hand through his dark hair.

Jem hesitates, if only for a moment. He requested placement elsewhere if it was at all possible. We finally found someone good enough and trust worthy, not to mention willing. For the right price, of course.

He watches as Magnus almost attempts to smile in exasperation, this his lips twitch down and stretch back on his face, and his hand is covering his mouth. It takes Jem a second to realize, but as gentle sobs drift from Magnus he realizes that the ancient downworlder is crying.

"He was pregnant. That was what went so wrong. Oh, Jem. Alec's dead. And it's all my fault."