A Malec Story

Chapter 66: This Is Me in Pieces

Alec

Isabelle and Simon had returned from their patrol too and announced that the east corridor needed a watch because the door was broken.

"I'll do it," Alec said, standing up. "I'm not going to sleep anyway."

"Me neither." Jace scrambled to his feet. "Besides, someone should keep you company."

Alec took his bow and started off toward the east corridor. He heard Jace behind him following him. He already felt sorry for snapping at him, he knew Jace hated it when Alec was angry with him. And he wasn't angry with him, he just had trouble with the ice. He wanted it back, cased around his heart, to feel nothing, but it wasn't working anymore. Stupid wine, alcohol was never a solution.

He reached the end of the tunnel and settled against the rocks on the slope near the entrance. Jace sat down beside him.

"Are you going to talk?" Jace asked. "Or is this one of those times where you're mad at me so you don't say anything?"

"I'm not mad at you," Alec said, tapping his fingers against the wood of his bow.

"I thought you might be," Jace said. "If I'd agreed to look for shelter, I wouldn't have been attacked. I put us all in danger—"

Alec took a deep breath, trying to keep himself under the tight control Jace always showed. He wished, not for the first time in his life that he'd be more like Jace. Hard like iron. "We knew the risks we were taking coming here with you. We signed up to die," he said, "I mean, obviously I'd rather survive. But we all chose."

"The first time you saw me," Jace said, "I bet you didn't think, He's going to get me killed."

"The first time I saw you, I wished you'd go back to Idris." Alec confessed. He felt Jace staring at him, shocked, and he shrugged. "You know I don't like change."

"I grew on you, though," Jace stated confidently.

"Eventually," Alec agreed. "Like moss, or a skin disease."

"You love me." Jace said. "You think we should have left a note for Maryse and Robert?"

Alec couldn't help but laugh at the mention of his parents. "I think they'll figure out where we went. Eventually. Maybe I don't care if dad ever figures it out." Alec threw his head back and sighed. "Oh, God, I'm a cliché. Why do I care? If dad decides he hates me because I'm not straight, he's not worth the pain, right?"

"Don't look at me," said Jace. "My adoptive father was a mass murderer. And I still worried about what he thought. It's what we're programmed to do. Your dad always seemed pretty great by comparison."

"Sure, he likes you," said Alec. "You're heterosexual and have low expectations of father figures."

"I think they'll probably put that on my gravestone. 'He Was Heterosexual and Had Low Expectations.' "

Alec smiled, it felt forced, where he usually smiled at Jace's jokes so easily.

"Are you sure you're not mad?" Jace asked, he knew him too well to be fooled. "You seem kind of mad."

But apparently not well enough to really understand Alec's behavior. Didn't he know, didn't he understand that Alec's heart was more than broken. Alec looked up at the sky. "Not everything is about you," he said impatiently.

"If you're not doing okay, you should tell me," Jace said. "We're all under stress, but we have to keep it together as much as we—"

By the Angel, Alec thought, Jace could be so incredibly blind sometimes. He whirled on him now. "Doing okay? How would you be doing?" he demanded, his voice filled with fear and anger. "How would you be doing if it were Clary that Sebastian had taken? If it were her we were going to rescue, not knowing if she was dead or alive? How would you be doing?"

Jace stared at him, incredulous, not used to Alec yelling at him. "I—I would be in pieces."

Alec scrambled to his feet and stared over the land, the pain overwhelming him, almost doubling his vision. "This," he said, gesturing toward himself as he stood, rigid with tension. "This is me in pieces."

"Alec—"

"I'm not like you," Alec said, he was stammering now, feeling vulnerable. "I—I am not able to create the perfect facade at all times. I can tell jokes, I can try, but there are limits. I can't—"

Jace went to stand beside him. "But you don't have to create a facade," he said. "You don't have to pretend. You can—"

"I can break down? We both know that's not true. We need to hold it together, and all those years I watched you, I watched you hold it together, I watched you after you thought your father died, I watched you when you thought Clary was your sister, I watched you, and this is how you survived, so if I have to survive, then I'm going to do the same thing."

"But you're not like me," Jace said, slowly. "You're better."