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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 4 years ago

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all gone, all gone, all gone

part 4: well, no, i don't feel lighter

my crackfic is back, y'all!! and here to break my 3rd-chapter curse, in which every fic i've ever written ever, i've given up after exactly the 3rd chapter. hopefully the amnesia fic and the 5+1 can follow suit. i wanted to post something for thomastair week/alastair appreciation day, and this doesn't fully fit but i have too many WIPs and this was the closest thing. I've written most of part 5, which has some great thomastair action, so maybe i'll try to post that tonight as well

content warnings: suicide attempt, magical manipulation, implications of domestic violence

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | AO3

They will never help you. Not even your sister takes your side, not in many months, years even. Do you think they would take you back now, like this? They preferred you floating dead in the Thames than fighting beside them even before I got my hands on you. They would use you and discard you in seconds. You are nothing to them, you never had been. Do you think your own mother would take you back knowing what you’ve done?

Alastair was clean again, free again. Those were the first words Belial had said to him after giving him a second chance. They repeated in his head now, deep in battle with the people he’d betrayed, the people who would betray him without hesitation. The people he should hold no loyalty towards.

But something else played in his head as well: a memory. He was 11, maybe 12, his sister slightly younger. They were playing hide and seek in the forest beyond Cirenworth. Alastair knew it was because his father was drunk and angry, and his mother had told him to get his sister out of the house. He was worried that she would get hurt attempting to calm him down, but Cordelia wasn’t. She was happy, she was laughing. She had no idea that anything could be wrong. She was elated for her brother to be playing with her. She wanted to run around and pick berries and eat them next to the lake a mile from their house.

He held tightly to the memory, as if it were a street he was sprinting down and if he made a single turn, he would never be able to find it again. It was the last thing he thought of before Belial returned to him, and it was a message he easily understood: this was the reason he was loyal to her, even when she betrayed him.

He had been so focused on his anger, his death wish, all of his own pain and heartbreak that he’d lost sight of what had sustained him all of his years: his sister. He survived on the knowledge that whatever happened to him, whatever abysmal fate was before him, his sister could have better. She deserved better. He could give it to her in whatever way possible.

He’d become distracted in his own pain, and Belial had preyed on that. Now, Alastair understood. It didn’t matter if Belial killed him or if he was sent away to the Basilias to waste away for the rest of his days or if he was stripped of his marks and never allowed to see his family again as long as Cordelia walked away in one piece.

Belial twirled Cortana in the air. “Good thing we have another Carstairs to wield it. Take care of her.” The blade flew into Alastair’s grasp. Cordelia winced and Lucie shrieked, charging towards Belial. They locked each other in a battle of magicks, but she wouldn’t last long, not against a Prince of Hell.

Alastair thought back to that memory, to the sound of her shrieks of laughter, of the flashes of deep, dark red hair between the trees as he chased her. He would rather die a thousand agonizing deaths than hurt her again. His mind told him that it was illogical, but he knew that it was correct. “You always wanted to be a hero, isn’t that what you said?” She looked hurt and confused, but more than anything, terrified. She needed to understand. There was only so much he could do; she needed to believe. “Do you believe you are a merciful hero?”

Realization flickered in her eyes of that memory from many years ago. “I try to be.”

Alastair couldn’t throw a sword and expect it to land safely in Cordelia’s grasp and without any demonic interception, nor did he wish to be within slashing distance of his sister with Belial in his head. Instead, he threw the sword upward.

Cordelia held out her hand and the blade flew into it, just as it had back in Devon. It fit firmly into Cordelia’s grasp just as Lucie collapsed.

“What-” Belial began. Alastair felt himself lifted into the air by an invisible hand around his neck. “-did you do?” Before he could answer, Cordelia started to move forward. The grip around his throat tightened and he couldn’t stop the strangled sound that followed. “Move another inch and I’ll snap his pretty little neck,” he warned. Cordelia froze.

“You should- have killed me-” Alastair choked out. “After Thomas.”

“You tricked me.”

“You wanted me- to give up. Should have known- I’m a talented- actor.” He could feel himself getting lightheaded attempting to speak, sacrificing the little air that he was still able to breathe.

“You think you’re so brilliant-”

“No. You’re- a fool. You- miscalculated.” He heard a shout down the corridor. If Cordelia was still holding Cortana when James arrived, there would be no way for Belial to win. Now was his only chance.

He heard a shriek as he flew through the air, colliding with a brick wall in a sickening crunch. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. He opened his eyes just in time to watch Belial disintegrate at Cortana’s blade.

The world was blurry, and everything hurt. His body, but also - him. He was free. He was dying, but he was free.

Each breath hurt more and more, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He had at least several broken bones and a concussion, in addition to broken ribs and any internal injuries. He attempted to sit up but the bit of effort made his vision go black. Perhaps more than a concussion.

Suddenly, his sister's face was above him. "Stay with me," she begged. "Please, I need you. Please, hold on. Everything will be okay. We'll get you to the Institute and they will heal you and then we will figure out the rest. Please, I need you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I can't do this without you. Please, hold on, for me."

She should not be apologizing, he thought. I was the one who left her.

He tried. He tried to hold on. He had brief memories of the carriage riding, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Stay with me, she repeated.

I will, he tried to tell her, but no words came.

Then, he saw nothingness. The emptiness with which he was so familiar.

Then, he woke. He was in the infirmary. His whole body ached. He felt his stomach lurch as he remembered all that had happened the past two weeks.

Cordelia was sitting in a daze, not fully asleep, but not fully awake.

"I suppose this whole ordeal means that I am either very hard to kill or very bad at dying," he said weakly, startling her out of her stupor.

She glared at him. "Don't joke about such things! I would smack you were you not injured. I still might yet." She hurried to him and embraced him tightly. His body ached at her pull but he did not comment.

"How long has it been?"

"Three days since the fight."

"Is Lucie okay?"

She nodded. "It took her a bit to recover, but she's alright. There were other injuries, but somehow we all made it out in one piece."

"I'm so sorry, Cordelia," he said quietly.

"Shh, don't start that. It's alright. I just-" Her breath hitched for a moment. "I wish I had been able to see how much pain you were in. I wish I could have helped."

He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't have accepted it." He reached to cup her face in his hand but realized that his wrists were bound to restraints. Of course. He'd worked for Belial. He'd carried out unspeakable deeds for him. He'd kidnapped Thomas, even if he had freed him as well.

"They- they said they had to, that until you woke and they could assess the situation it would be necessary. I-"

"It's okay," he told her. "I understand."

"What are you going to tell them? About how... about what happened with Belial?"

He exhaled. "The truth. I will simply tell them the truth."

* * *

The Consul was apprehensive about allowing Alastair to take the Mortal Sword so soon after waking from his injuries, but he insisted that he would not speak without it. He only wanted to do this once. She reluctantly agreed, bringing the sword to the infirmary, along with the Inquisitor, the head of the Institute, and Sophie Lightwood as witness. He was unsure of how she’d gotten involved, but her presence somehow terrified him and soothed him at the same time. Cordelia was allowed to stay as well, as long as she did not interfere with the questioning.

The Mortal Sword burned through his body, aggravating his many wounds, but he’d felt worse. He answered their questions, explaining how Belial had held him over the Thames, threatening to drop him into the river as he brokered a deal with him. He conveniently left out the part that preceded. He attempted to describe what it was like to be under Belial’s spell, under his curse. He told them that he never wanted to hurt anyone. It was the truth, even under Belial’s influence.

“Thank you, Alastair. We’re almost finished,” Will told him. Alastair was unsure why he was asking the questions, he was sure that was meant to be the task of the Inquisitor, but whatever Will had done to earn the privilege, it seemed like he regretted it now. He was simply too empathetic. “Please allow me to clarify a few details. Belial, using Jesse Blackthorn’s body, pushed you off of Tower Bridge?”

Alastair grimaced, his answer burning in the back of his throat. He had hoped they would overlook this part. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was already over the edge of the bridge.”

“I don’t understand.”

Alastair looked over to Cordelia who seemed ready to jump in on his behalf, though they both knew she was not allowed. “I- I jumped,” he confessed, relief washing over him, though he did not know if it was because of the sword. “I attempted to kill myself, but Belial stopped me.”

The Consul and Will Herondale looked at him in shock. Sophie Lightwood appeared guilty, but he had no idea what for. The Inquisitor was indifferent.

Will attempted to speak, the pain breaking through his eyes, but could not. The Consul stepped in instead. “I see. Is there any other information relevant to this ordeal?”

He was about to respond when Sophie spoke up. “What did Belial tell you about Barbara?” Ah, he realized. That was why she was here. That was why she was guilty.

“Sophie!” the Consul scolded.

“Mrs. Lightwood, that is entirely-” The Inquisitor began, but it was not a question Alastair was opposed to answering.

“Nothing,” he told her. “But I overheard him speaking to Tatiana. He called Barbara’s death his gift to her.”

Sophie’s solemn expression did not hold the surprise of the Consul’s or Will’s. Alastair was merely confirming what she already knew.

The Consul nudged Will forward to take the sword back from Alastair. “I believe we’re finished here. We will discuss the matter and return to you shortly.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Will put away the Mortal Sword and they left the room, Sophie casting an apologetic glance back at him. The silence stayed between him and Cordelia as they waited. He believed before that if he could skirt around the truth, there was a chance he would walk free, even if he did not deserve it. Now, knowing that they knew the full truth, his stomach twisted at the thought of their decision.

Cordelia looked pale, and he knew she was thinking something similar. “I’m going to go get some water,” she said finally. It wasn’t even a convincing lie.

“Cordelia, what are you doing?”

She didn’t answer as she left the infirmary.

if any of this seems unrealistic, i don't care! i made this mess and i can deus ex machina it if i want to!!!

taglist (ask to be +/-, this is a different taglist than most of my content because of the triggers): @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @shadowrunner2000 @writeforjordelia @jurdan-my-beloved

Part 5

#cw suicide #alastair carstairs #thomastair week #tlh #the last hours #cordelia carstairs #all gone fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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thomaslightwood · 5 years ago

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A Kind of Magic

Chapter one: One Vision

A dream of sweet illusion:

A glimpse of hope and unity,

And visions of one sweet union.

(recommend, but not necessary to read/hear the song)

•

In this moment Thomas had one goal and that was to make it to the Devil Tavern. As fast as possible.

It wasn’t because he was running from something but because he needed to be alone. This was the closest place he could think of where he could be alone for now. He knew that James and Matthew were training together in the Institute and Christopher was with Henry doing their new experiment with that ichor. So their room should be empty, right?

When he entered the establishment he barely looked at the people there. He smiled at Polly and nodded at a few other Downworlders but didn’t stop to chat like usual.

Thomas tramped upstairs to their room, wanting air. He opened some of the old windows and looked at Fleet Street. It was almost lunch. He had to meet with Lucie soon.

By the Angel, Thomas had to calm down and to put himself together. He couldn’t do anything in his current state. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

The problem was one particular person. One person with sharp tongue, fair hair and black eyes. His face was in front of Tom’s sight. This one vision he just couldn’t escape.

The Carstairs arrival shouldn’t have been be surprising. At all. It was common knowledge that Lucie and Cordelia are gonna be parabatai. He just hadn’t thought about it much. Because thinking about the Carstairs means thinking about Alastair. And this always reminded him of Paris. And how confused he was after that. Thomas still was confused. Just less then before.

Love is confusing, Thomas thought. And strange. Like some spell on you which makes you dizzy. Some dark magic that stretches your heart with killing hope.

Yes, this had to be. A kind of magic.

•

When Thomas finally arrived at the Institute Lucie was already waiting for him in the emty ballroom. Many books and papers were in the big table which they usually used when they’re here.

“Sorry for being late” said Thomas guiltily.

Lucie just smiled at him, clearly in a good mood.

“Don’t worry. I’m not in hurry.”

Thomas pulled a chair to sit, facing Lucie. “You said you need help with a translation?”

“That’s right,” she said excitedly. Lucie bring in front of him few papers which he knew were drafts of Lucie’s tales. She liked this paper and used it to write on.

“So, you know about the Carstairs arrival, right?”

Thomas managed to nod. His heart was beating fast. “Anna told me about an hour ago.”

Lucie smiled happily. “I heard about it today as well. And wanted to do something special for Daisy.” Lucie took a few other papers and two books. Dictionaries, Thomas realized. “And I came up with this: to translate The Beautiful Cordelia in Persian.”

Thomas raised eyebrows, distracted from his thoughts of Alastair for a moment.

“Luce, you have been writing it since you were twelve. To translate it all… it would take weeks. Months.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Four years writing. I know there no chance to do it before their arrival. But I thought it may be ready for our parabatai ceremony.” Lucie looked at all the paper on the table and smiled hopefully at him. “However, that’s why I wanted your help, Tom. With you beside me it would be so much faster! So… Will you help?” asked Lucie, pleading.

“Of course Luce!” said Thomas without hesitation. “No need to ask. But do you know when will be your ceremony?”

“No idea” said Lucie honestly. “But I believe we can choose the date. I will convince Cordelia to be in a time after we are ready.”

“You thought about everything, didn’t you?” Thomas smiled.

Lucie laughed.

“We are talking about my parabatai after all. Now, let’s begin!”

“Let’s begin,” Thomas repeated. There were a lot of work to be done.

•

When Thomas entered the Devil Tavern for the second time this day it was almost evening.

He was with Matthew and James. Together they left the Institute, already in gear, ready to hunt demons. They had to take Christopher before the fall of the night to start patrolling London’s streets.

“I just have to pick up some knifes I forgot last time,” James said. “It won’t take long.”

“Jamie loves his knifes too much sometimes” sighed his parabatai.

So now Matthew and Thomas were waiting for him. Matthew ordered one drink for himself but Thomas didn’t want. He prefered his mind to be clear before a battle.

His charming friend chatted with Polly who was already laughing.

Thomas asked himself if he should take something to eat. He hadn’t eat anything since he met with Lucie. Maybe this could stop his thoughts to wander around Alastair Carstairs.

“Hey Tom,” Matthew called him. Thomas didn’t realize when his conversion with Polly ended. “Isn’t Christopher the one who usually isn’t here?” he asked with a smile.

Thomas tried to smile back but Matthew was right. His mind was elsewhere.

“I’m fine,” he said. He hoped he was not a liar.

Matthew drank from the drink a little, still looking at Thomas.

“Is there someone special?” he asked, curious.

Thomas didn’t answer.

“Is it that werewolf girl who was running after you for while?”

“By the Angel, Matthew,” he sighed.

Thomas still felt a little embarrassed thinking about the whole situation. Her name was Bella. She was chasing him for a few weeks and was absolutely shameless. In the end Thomas forced himself to tell her that he liked another person and didn’t want her hurt, which was true. Bella was very disappointed but said she’s fine. Asked about this person though but Thomas refused to tell her anything. It felt too private to share it with someone else.

He thought about Alastair again. For long, maybe longer then Thomas wanted to admit, the Persian was the only one he thought about this way.

There was thousand little things about him. Flash of light in his eyes. The sweet illusion of his hands. His voice. His everything. One heart. One soul. He was the glimpse of the brightest dream in the dark rains.

Thomas felt breathless. The love wasn’t what he ever imagined it would be. There’s no black and no white. It was all the colors at one.

“Thomas!”

He startled and looked at Matthew. He forgot that his friend was still there.

“There is definitely someone,” Matthew said, already grinning.

“Are you hungry?” Thomas asked, desperate to change the topic.

Polly came near them, rising an eyebrow.

“Do I know this person? Is it a lady or a gentleman?” the blond kept asking, ignoring Tom’s question.

Thomas looked at Polly, trying not to blush.

“Just gimme fried chicken,” he murmured.

•

A/N: one big shout out for Teddy (@fair-y-child) who was so kind to edit my chapters! Thank you Teo for your help, it wouldn’t be the same without you ❤️

People who wanted to be tagged (thanks to every one of you, I didn’t expect so many people to ask for it): @christopher-lightwood-my-heart @panicatwallmaria @thomaslightwoodx @thomastair-paris @lavanyalol @lucexherondale @tom-carstairs @im-gay-for-cordelia-carstairs @vintage-morning-wine @ab-cedario @daisycordelia @crying-is-your-latest-fashion @a-very-gay-spider (btw I will keep tagging you if you don’t tell me to stop)

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