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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years

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Amy Lee Dives Into the Tragedies That Inspired Evanescence’s ‘The Bitter Truth’ — Exclusive Interview

Congrats on the release of The Bitter Truth — how are you feeling?

Thank you, I'm feeling so happy that it's out. It's hard to really sum it up — awesome feelings of satisfaction. I'm really happy that it's out there and everybody's listening to it, it's cool to see the fans react to it and dig into it. We're going to be releasing our video for "Better Without You" (which came out on April 16), I'm so excited about the video!

So we're in a good, happy place right now. Looking forward to when we can be together again, for sure.

Obviously this wasn't your first record, but is the first new, original material you guys have put out in about a decade. Do you still find it nerve-wracking when you release new music, especially when fans have been waiting awhile for something new?

(Laughs) Well, I don't find it nerve-wracking as far as anticipating a reaction, I'm mostly just excited for that. It's just getting back into the groove of doing a lot of press and promo, and running around. And it's different nowadays with the pandemic because it's like, "Do your own lighting! Do your own audio! Do your own everything," and like, make it work from home most of the time.

So it's been a lot of work, but when you're working for something that you really love, it's worth it. I mean, it's fun. So I'm feeling good.

Have you seen any fan theories about any of the songs come up at all, and were any of them accurate?

That's a good question. I can't think of something off the top of my brain like that. I don't know, I feel like mostly they're just getting it. But you ask me whatever you want, and I will answer to the best of my comfort zone (laughs).

How did all of the personal tragedies that the band went through, and all of the events that have been happening in the world impact this album?

Those two things are literally the biggest lyrical catalyst for this time and for this album, particularly the grief. That's what started the whole thing. We started writing this album, focused on it, in 2019, at the beginning of the year. And I'm so glad we did, we had a bunch of writing sessions throughout 2019 in between touring, we'd just get together when we could and write. I was writing on my own, but just setting aside time as a band to write.

I lost my brother in 2018 at the beginning of the year, so that was just a really, impossibly hard life change. So I think I've learned, yet again, that the biggest challenges and the biggest pains in my life are usually what lead me to music, and it's hard to admit this, but what tend to make the best work for me. Not just grief, but challenges — things that are hard.

And the whole world has been going through incredible challenges over the last year, the last couple of years actually with everything going on, the pandemic and the fight for democracy in the world. All of that came at the right time, where I was coming out of grief. I'm still living in it, but processing it, and then this fire and this fight became a part of it. So the journey through all of that, that is the majority of what the album's about.

You kind of hit the nail on the head there because I was going to ask if you think that the best art seems like it comes out of a place of sadness and pain, since it is so cathartic for artists. And as you've called it — it's "writing to heal." So do you find yourself gravitating toward music that is more emotional?

You know, I don't even know if I can say it's "the best," but it's the deepest. It's the most meaningful. You have to go through something to have something to say that is going to touch somebody on a deep level. And for me personally, music has always been my therapy, my catharsis, the place to pour it out and spin it into something good that I can love and reflect on.

Instead of running away from all of the hard things in life, if I dive into them through music and really start pouring it out and processing there, it's like you're able to make it worth something. It wasn't just all a waste, because I have seen, over the last 17 years, with interacting with our fans how much that it can mean to them and help them connect and process and be something good in their lives.

Knowing that now, too, was something that pushed me forward in the times when I felt like it was too hard. Knowing that we were all going through something and our fans were down too and hoping for something, we promised we were gonna come out with a new album in 2020. We just all kind of made a pact at the beginning of the year when everything started getting shut down that we weren't gonna let anything stop us.

So how was your experience writing this album versus others in the past, and how do you think you've grown as a songwriter and a musician this time around?

We had to be brave. And you know, I have to say, it's weird to connect it to this, but Synthesis taught us something about being brave and trusting that something would work that we'd never tried before and just going for it.

I have always been the person who over prepares, practices for way too long before we get together, has everything totally run through when we're gonna play a concert that we've done before a lot of times. And I have broken from that routine so much in the past years.

Synthesis was important for us because we had to trust every day, the only way to do it was to work with a different orchestra every night. Having a different group of musicians onstage every single night was the only way to make that happen. You don't have time to have rehearsed the whole entire set with that group that day, and then play that whole concert that night, it's just not possible.

So we were literally playing the majority of our sets on that tour for the very first time with that group of musicians — without a click and everything else — just live in front of the audience. It was literally like a tightrope, like there's no way to know if something's gonna go horribly wrong, and we just had to trust that we were gonna be good enough musicians and performers to handle it and look at each other, and work through it and get to the next place.

Man, it was so satisfying, it was such a good experience, and it was so beautiful and rewarding. Part of the takeaway from that for me was to be confident and not to be afraid, and just to trust that we've got it in us to do what it is that we think we can do, that we dream of.

This year, going into it, we just started breaking rules. Before the pandemic even hit it was like, 'We don't have the whole album written. We just have a few songs and a whole bunch of pieces. We're not going on tour 'til March." That actually didn't happen, but we weren't planning to go on tour until last March (laughs).

Why don't we hit the studio for just a couple of songs and avoid burn out of having to have all of the songs before we go in, "Let's just go in for a couple of songs." It went really well, it turned into four and then we had to be apart for the rest of the album.

It was another one of those moments where it's like, "Okay, we can either have faith and just say 'Fuck it, I don't know what's gonna happen with the pandemic or when we're ever gonna be able to go back and get together again in person. But I have faith that we're gonna find a way to work it out no matter what. So let's go ahead and start putting singles out.'"

It was either that or just wait and go, "Sorry everybody, I know we said we were gonna release music, but we're not going to." I didn't want to be another disappointment. There was so much of it last year, I wanted to be something that was proof that life could go on.

So the decision was just like, "Okay, we're gonna go ahead. We're gonna put out 'Wasted On You' and make a video from home, and then release another one in a couple of months." And it wasn't just about not knowing when we were gonna get back together, it was that the songs weren't written, and for me, that's terrifying. Like, before the songs are written, we're already on a promo schedule and talking about the album, releasing songs already and like, the clock is ticking in a way.

That was a lot of pressure to put on ourselves, but it really was just like, "We're just gonna have to have faith in this. I know we can do it somehow. We always do. In the end it works out, it's gonna work out!" And thank god it did, we finally got to get together, most of us, last end-of-July. Jen [Majura, guitarist], we still haven't seen since those first four songs right before the pandemic lockdown.

That's wild. I mean, it's out now, and it seems like it came just at the turning point in all of this with the vaccine and everything. Everybody's starting to get back on their feet.

Yeah, I think it's working out honestly. Because now, it's just come out and we can at least see the light at the end of the tunnel. Like you said, with the vaccines and stuff and getting back and eventually going on tour. Because the next thing that we're all just looking towards and dying for, is to play these songs live.

Absolutely. How do you think that these songs might translate live differently from anything you guys have done in the past?

It's just going to feel really good to have new material to play live, like so much of it. Because for so long, we've been playing shows a lot over the past, I don't know how many years, during this time that we haven't been putting out new music. So our live show has really just been about picking out hits and our favorites and whatever, and making set lists out of our music that's been there.

We finally have something that represents us now that isn't, there were a couple of songs on Synthesis, but literally since like 2011. We're a new band since then, a lot happened since then. So to put something out now that feels so exactly in tune with who we are, what our tastes are, what our abilities are, is just gonna feel really good. It's gonna be hard to play the old ones, honestly.

So let's dive into the album a little bit. Starting with the opener, I'm not sure if there's an actual significance to this or not, but is there a reason "Artifact" and "The Turn" are split into different parts?

They're different songs in my head, it was kind of a decision about the first bit, the second bit and "Broken Pieces Shine," like where the track markers were gonna go. And that was a tough choice for me because I know the majority of people aren't really listening in order on a CD, a lot of people are just plucking out a song.

So I want you to be able to click to "Broken Pieces Shine" and just hear the song, but it so needs that build-up, that's part of it in my mind. So it really was just a decision about clipping it.

The first part — "Artifact" — that's me in a hotel in the middle of the night on tour in 2019, just recording into my laptop. I just had an idea. We actually kept it and didn't re-record it, which was really weird, and I didn't expect to happen. But it just made sense in the end.

That next portion — "The Turn" — that's a collaboration between Scott Kirkland from the Crystal Method and myself. We just sorta met on tour one day and made friends, and decided, "Hey, send me stuff! I'd love to work with you, okay I'd love to work with you." And he sent me a bunch of stuff, and I sent him stuff. He had that bit of music sort of, and I rearranged it and wrote vocals to it and that turned into that part.

I knew early on that I wanted that into "Broken Pieces Shine" to be the beginning of the album because of the way the lyrics set it up. The first part, "Artifact," lyrically is just a dedication to my brother. I'm just gonna put it that simply — it's a dedication to my brother.

And then when "The Turn" starts, it's sort of just like this calling-us-back, like calling all of the spiritual forces in the universe back to ourselves and collecting all the pieces of who we've been, who we were, who we are and who we're gonna be.

After all this time that we haven't been out, it's like we need to just build into the moment where you finally hear the guitars come in. So that's part of it.

And then when "Broken Pieces Shine" happens... I've always sort of seen this album, the moment, like where it begins and what it's about, is it begins sort of at ground zero of a tragedy. The result of the album is about the journey getting back up.

So when I hear those guitars, and the first line starts, "There's no way back this time / What is real and what is mine / Survival hurts," it's like I see somebody face-down on the ground standing back up again and dusting off, clawing back up and then starting to walk forward and refuse to just lay there and die.

So that's the setup to the beginning of the album, and then the rest is plenty of ups-and-downs, and it's about plenty of things. But that's the beginning of the journey.

"The bitter truth" is a line that's repeated a couple of times throughout "Wasted on You." How did you go about choosing that as the title for the album, as opposed to any other phrase that's repeated throughout the album?

I think it really sums up a theme that we come back to a lot on the album, which is about facing the pain. The only way out is through, not just the pain, but facing the broken pieces, facing the things about ourselves and about our society that aren't perfect, that are flawed, that are broken or that are wounded.

Because we can't heal, we can't improve, we can't change, we can't grow and we can't ever leave the horror of the moment until we first accept the brokenness of ourselves. Until we accept that something's wrong, we can't fix it.

That song, "Wasted on You," that was one of the first ones that was really finished, and it was time to pick the album title and we were still writing songs. But it was already forming and I was like, "This sums up what we're talking about now and what we're going through in a really big way on an outward-in, inward level."

Based on the lyrics in "Wasted on You," do you consider yourself someone who has a hard time getting over things and moving on from things? What advice can you give to people who do struggle to move on from either failed relationships or a loss?

It's hard, because sometimes you're in a relationship that you just need to cut out of your life in order to move on. It's just true. It doesn't make you a bad person for you to just step completely away and cut somebody out of your life, and there are times I've had to do that. It sucks.

But you don't need to feel guilty about it if you're making a choice that's for health and stability and all of those things. But I think that we don't always have to do it that way either, and I do also think it's important to remember it's important not to just stuff stuff down like it never happened deep within yourself. I feel like it's better to hold onto your memories.

And even in those bad relationships, those bad breakups and those moments in time that you've had to move on from, I'm at a place in my life now where I'm not feeling anger anymore really. Not for the most part, even the people that were horrible (laughs). I'm not sitting around thinking about horrible, I wasn't able to actually still remember the good moments, too.

It's weird to say that. It took a really long time. But you only get one life. So I don't know, I try not to be the person who's constantly saying, "Oh that time was terrible, that person was terrible, everything about that was a monster," and flush it all away and forget about the parts about it that were why you were in that situation, too.

There's things that you need to move away from and then there's also things that you need to learn from, as well, so it's better not to forget, I guess is the right way to say it.

In "Yeah, Right," you talk about getting paid. Is that a literal reference to getting paid by an actual job, or is it in allusion to something deeper?

Uh, it's about money (laughs). I've seen money change people more often than I would've liked to. And it's always in a negative way.

Well I guess maybe this follows suit, does "Better Without You" happen to be about the music industry?

Part of it is, but it's not entirely about that. "Better Without You"... so each verse is dedicated to a different person or entity in my life along the way. And they go in order. I don't want to name-call, and I've carefully avoided doing that with this song and it's hard because they're about really specific things to me.

If you know me personally, then you know who it's all about. I don't really want to drag people into things many years later. So it starts out a long time ago (laughs) in the first verse with some battles there — a big one for independence. All of it was really a fight for independence.

The second one is the one that's more for the industry. And then the third one kind of brings us to today, in our world and the world around us. I sang the last few lyrics to "Better Without You," including the bridge, the day they called it for Biden. Not to make it political, because the song isn't really. But that was in my heart. I mean, "It's over. It's over now." Feeling it. And it felt so good to sing it knowing that it was true, at least in regards to Trump

Wow that's cool, I wouldn't have looked at it like that. There were a couple of songs where I was wondering if it was about a relationship or something on the grander scheme, and you letting go of that.

Yeah, it is. And it's funny because I don't want it to seem like it's all about the label. It's really not. That's been part of my journey, but there is stuff that's been way more personal than that, and harder. But when I say "the industry," it does mean more than the label. It's just the whole world of people that surround you when you're doing this.

And there was definitely more to it than the label that I was fighting against and struggling with during my journey, but one of the things that I remember being a threat at times was like, "If you don't do this or you don't do that, then it's just all gonna fall apart. You're not gonna have it. This is all gonna crumble. Everything that you have."

And I'm looking at it and going, "I don't want what I had. I want my future, I have an idea for something more." So the chorus, "As empires fall to pieces / Our ashes twisting in the air / It makes me smile to know that / I'm better without you," going like, "It's okay, go ahead. Let it burn down. Let the old idea of the tiny thing that you thought this could be go ahead and burn down because I have an idea for something bigger."

Can you explain the chorus of "Blind Belief," specifically the lines, "We hold the key to redemption / Let icons fall?"

This is another one that's a little bit in the political zone, or social. Why do we believe what we believe? Why do we do the things we do? Why are the laws that are in place, some of them aren't there for good reasons. Some things are just the way they are because they've always been that way.

And I think we've reached a time where we need to say, "That's not enough. We need to make changes that make sense for how much our world and our awareness has grown, and how we need to be better." We need to improve over time and not just leave things the way that they are.

I was actually writing those lyrics, being inspired by the Confederate statues coming down. We can still love our ancestors even if they made mistakes, and we can actually love them better, we can actually do better for our world. It doesn't have to be a betrayal if your grandparents thought differently than you.

We can only grow by moving forward and making better and better decisions as the generations go on. And if we want this place to get better, then we need to admit that things are wrong!

Saying "We hold the key to redemption" is saying you don't have to stand by something that's wrong. Go ahead and let icons fall! Just because something is the way it is and it's always been that way doesn't make it right. We should be asking those questions, and sometimes change is good. It's nothing to be afraid of.

To wrap up, of all of the topics that you cover on The Bitter Truth, what are you hoping at the end of the day that people will take away from this album as they sit with it?

I hope they feel empowered, I really do. I didn't go into this writing process feeling empowered, I started to feel that way through the process. It starts from feeling human, feeling vulnerable, feeling fragile and feeling broken.

But as I start to work, especially together with my friends, with people that support me and I support them, having a band is a really cool thing. Just having something to work on together last year and the year before, amidst the pain and the loss and the frustration, just made it so much better. It was such a healing thing for all of us, and I'm hoping that that same healing and empowered feeling can spread to those who listen to it. I really do.

Instead of just wallowing in grief, we found a way through the music to feel strength and inspiration and hope for something better in the future. I think, if there's a punchline, the biggest thing is that life is worth living.

I think that's something that people need to hear right now, because there has been so much to just feel sad about, so much to feel depressed and frustrated about and helpless, without a voice. Like, "It doesn't even matter what you do, I'm just one little drop in the bucket." But it's not true, that's a lie. We are strong, and change is happening.

And the greatest losses that we can imagine, we actually can overcome and there can still be good things left in life to experience, you just don't know what they are yet. If it can be empowering and spread hope to people, that's what I would most hope for.

#Amy Lee #Evanescence #2021 interviews

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castlehead · 6 years

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makeshift feels from the opinion lab

kafka wrote in a journal urhmherm of being limited to prague, then his room, then his bed, then nothing at all. to be limited at last to nothing at all. well. turns out i guess the most kafkaesque sentiment came from franz kafka.

enjoi ya rickety gethsemane while it is still to be dreamed, young writers, young writers of youth.

after a job on a hot day back in april or may or something i started listening to this while walking out of the truck towards the gas station convenience store and abruptly pivoted away from the sliding doors to sneak around the side and weep near the green fencing around some boilers. it occurred to me how little i could ever forgive myself for doing.

the shit ive done, all of it, i havent forgiven myself. if i did it and it was bad, or even meagre, dumb, really no big deal, bet yr ass it still keeps me from thinking i deserve happiness. i do not forgive myself for anything ive ever done. no deed is too temporal to etch itself cleanly into my head as something unforgivable, if only it makes a small point.

i know this is true because no joy i ever feel is felt fully, because i do not think it is deserved; and because i allow myself to be joyous only when i think of the truth of my unforgiven, unforgivable state. never to be. Never will.

and that is what is depression.

There must be something here, in me. Here where the jackals caterwAul Like streetcats Mewing their gizzard After this night’s heat, What’ll it be Jackals, Buzz off, shit man

i feel like the key to life is knowing that 90 percent of anxiety & depression, either in degree or in its truth, and at least somewhere not wracked by war, is unsubstantiated (the ten percent being actual crises, like fear of violence, a death in the family, etc). The problem is how persuasive these feelings can be that lead to the fulfillment of the very fear or solidifying the reason for being depressed. But with positive feelings, the least thing, whether true or no, can always be rewarding. A bit of happiness must be allowed to be felt, indiscriminately, because it is more useful to us than a bit of sadness. Take the fierce dialectic u use to establish a depressing ‘truth’ and persuade yourself of something good. If one is far fetched, let it be the something bad. Until it happens, after all, all of it remains in your head, to do with what u will.

You don’t get to lower taxes on the rich and gut social services at the same time. The reason social services are in place is to provide a fair shake for john q public. Mostly investors are feeling the benefits of the corporate tax cut. They’re not giving the money towards a better product that would help the people. but one day there will be no sesame seeds on the bun of yr Big Mac and you’ll wonder how that’s possible with an entire sesame seed dept that just got a pay raise.

tax reform should be done to help a free market, so that the rich can be poor and the poor rich. Taxation helps the people so that social services become less necessary. Social services were developed because the percentage of taxation was unequal between higher and lower class. Poor folks felt the pain while rich folks shrugged it off.

Thats why I say you can’t do both: social services are a protection against the world being entirely controlled, if it’s not already, by those from the very swamp this president wants to drain. T**** hasn’t drained shit.

i feel like writing takes over for your thought process. You can’t think and write at the same time, or something. something turns off or it switches where it’s doing the shit it’s doing to a different place, like yr hands. I don’t think you can write down one linear thought with another thought being thought in your head. This is why people say their mind goes blank in extended periods of inspiration. The functioning has gone from being untethered and temporal, ie wandering thoughts, notions, speculating, to being possessed in a focused place, ie yr hands, which usually leads to a more focused expression of perhaps a thought of particular value, enough in the first place to require writing down. But tho this can be easy for some talented people, who might, as Joyce said, polish their nails while writing some genius thing, what does not come easy for anybody, because it is imposssible, is thinking two disparate things, of the everyday and of some behemoth philosophic concept, for example, without either one taken place after or before; or, one of them being intermittently disturbed, tho linearly, by the other, like a notification on yr phone- until at last one of the two breaks down, and the foxus superseded by the one left. This is especially novel. One thinks; one does not think and also think. That would make it two people in one head. Therefore we can presume that ones identity is found in the unity, or internal focus, of their story in thoughts down one narrow wire: thought can cross many paths and examine everything under and beyond th sun, but per person it is still in the singular. It cannot divide into two simultaneous paths of equal focus. there can be multilayered thoughts with a similar core concept behind them, and these can be thought simultaneously as much as one can ante up and dole out shades of emotion and shades of thought, and so on. But I cannot think of a teleological explanation for all creation and with the same focus Apply myself to letters in the mail. There is a dominant voice, and the rest, the mundane voice, is seen thru that lens.

ya cant say yr colorblind then gripe about people hatin ya cuz u r white. contradiction of terms no? if you really didnt see color, ud say people hated yr ass because yr a damnfool entrylevel, grunt-ass lowbrow. not because of the color of ya skin, which ya recognized and put to the forefront in making that very statement.

feel like uh, a priori is not intuition alone. Intuition is a function of the mind, while a priori is, if I understand Kant correctly, a representation synthesized before there is an object of focus available for the senses to interpret, ie an essentially true conclusion drawn, that has no need for a combined manifold, as, Kant tells us, is offered by merely living in space and time: time to extend and progress from cause to effect to cause, and space to do it in. In other words, intuition is cognitive- psychological, and a priori, theoretical- logical.

Pathos is the one thing most divine about people, for i see that in my worst state I can still grieve for the savaging of life’s last hope, and be uplifted, feel tears, at least for a little blessed while. There is no state so low that does not inspire one to at least pity themselves, and feel the comfort of passions, however mistaken or wretched the person.

i feel that / Some subjects do not even allow to be proved through the scientific method, yet they are still issues of a scientific nature and not just mysticism. the line is very thin however, since usually these subjects devolve into mysticism. In fact, if science only worked with that which could be proven, from the outset or otherwise, we’d have a pretty limited roster of discoveries. Sometimes discoveries can be made along the way towards proving; sometimes, discoveries can be made, scientifically, thru means that for lack of anything better, are entirely theoretical. And sometimes the search is not to prove something true but to clarify something. Science is not out to be incontrovertible.

The man in mismatched sox inhaled not as deeply as he would have liked at such a crescendo, even if on the third listen in a row, then, looked up at the massive pure blue upwards, cloudless, felt likely to cry for joy, but in the end simply mouthed the words:

“I’m gonna die of loneliness, fo sho.”

So often doth trespass our intuition upon realms and pathways of a more intimate enumeration of cause and effect than could be available to any witness, and that is available only to the actioning of objects involved in the event seen and analyzed by what and who were no player.

The crisis paid goodbyes in the form of telling your ass off, is what he said. But we all knew he thought he was merely a parable often enough already. We didn’t listen to the crisis, deliberately shut our ears like boxing them very slowly ourselves before anyone else could. Later in the year many terrible events would occur that were the direct result of ignoring his words. But nobody came around to believing he did it. The crisis was way off teaching prophecies someplace probably foreign. But if I refuse to be confined to learning from my own folly I should at least give the follies of others a chance. Fatass karma, and more hell than handbasket.

What the crisis he said was

HEY YOU DONT WANT TO FACE JACK, FACE? TELL ME ABOUT HOW CRUELTY CAN BE ELEGANT AGAIN. YOU ARE FACING NO SUCH BURDEN OF SIMPLY LIVING. TELL ME WHAT HALLUCINATIONS ARE, YOU SWOLLEN, DYSPEPTIC SHIT.

And to this day All I remember is him Looking slain already Like he’d be on the slab In days Or even hundreds of years from then And it’d be how, uh, how He looked then Slamming the door While my sister and things Was gatherin they buckets for weeping later In that queer disease of spite where You grieve for the vanquished enemy.

all triumph is in some sense humorous, for in itself triumph is the opposite of tragedy. that is why the soldier laughs as he shoots at a retreating enemy. there is an element of rowdiness that is somewhat comedic, taken in itself.

Numbers are the only symbols that stand for what they are. In this way they are more like hieroglyphs

is bed porn a thing? it should definitely be a thing.

THIS LIFE IS FILLED WITH DARKNESS THIS DARKNESS IS SO LIGHT GOD IN HEAVEN QUA SKY MUST BEAT WINGS TO KEEP ON GROUND NOTHING MUCH IS EVER FOUND NOTHING MUCH IS EVER FOUND. No symbols where none intended etc etc

No art is permanent, in that its aims in being created do not last, do not translate between epochs. I will never experience Homer as one living in Ancient Greece. Have not closely read Homer, but when I do it will be as myself in my time, with all the sullying context of those years from then to now only left to unguide me.

Kierkegaard tricks you into thinking he knows his insanity is illogical, the side effect of writing his labyrinths. The frightening moment comes when you realize how fiercely logical his insanity seems to him, and how insane the World actually is, and you wonder if it is that you do not understand it or just do not accept it.

#prose #powtry #prowse #poetry #collage #social media

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humansunshineao3 · 6 years

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Fighting the Good Fight [Ch. 11]

Alec Lightwood just wants to run his Institute in peace.

This is the story that could’ve unfolded if Jace didn’t exist.

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, Clary/Izzy

Tags: Jace doesn’t exist, transgender alec lightwood, retelling of the TV show, Internalized Transphobia, Panic Attacks, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Lightwood Siblings Feels, Izzy and Alec are parabatai, Family Dynamics, Homophobia, top surgery, Trigger warnings in chapter notes, in depth trigger warnings

AUTHOR’S NOTES

I had a lot of fun writing the trial scene this chapter. There aren't as many trigger warnings because it's more plot focussed than character focussed.

Someone asked me about Lydia's characterisation last chapter, so to clarify: Lydia originally was okay with having an unromantic relationship with Alec (when Alec proposed) but after reflecting she realised how lonely that would be and decided to try and get Alec to be her close friend, and maybe eventually her lover. It wasn't a huge scheme or anything, but she did disregard Alec's queerness, assuming he would get over it eventually. Her homophobia is further elaborated on in this chapter: she thinks of it not as an inherent part of a person but as a phase of rebellion or a way to stick your finger up to the Clave's authority, or a way to unnerve people. Also, yes, she is 'okay' with Alec being trans (because Alec passes as a cis man with his clothes on), but the Clave won't accept Alec as a groom until he has surgery, which is why she emphasises that Alec must have surgery if they are to marry. Just thought I'd lay all that out - if one person was confused it's fairly likely that more of you were wondering the same thing.

Onto the trigger warnings!

Racial profiling: Canon-typical racism against downworlders. Magnus and Izzy call the Clave out for assuming Meliorn was guilty because he’s a Seelie.

Explicit homophobia: Inquisitor Herondale is heinously homophobic. She refers to Clary and Izzy’s relationship as ‘perverted’. Additionally, Lydia tries to use Izzy’s feelings for Clary as a way to turn the court against her.

Explicit transphobia/misgendering: Inquisitor Herondale publically misgenders Alec as a power play, before accusing him of being trans for attention.

Racism: Valentine calls Luke filthy, an animal, a dog, etc etc.

Previous Chapter

EPISODE 11: BLOOD CALLS TO BLOOD

“Clary?” Dot rasped, letting Clary haul her up to her feet. “What are you doing here, you have to go!”

“Valentine’s not here,” Clary assured her, pulling Dot’s arm around her shoulder. “How do we get out of here, do you know?”

Dot looked around, still squinting, and pointed towards the back wall. “Valentine has a standing portal, it can take us anywhere we want. My magic’s too low.”

“Right.” Clary nodded, guiding Dot as she took her first wobbly steps in months. “I’ll take you to Magnus. He’s the High Warlock, he’ll know how to help you.”

“Alright, it’s over here.”

“Let me call Magnus to lower his wards, can you stand?” Clary asked, helping Dot lean against the wall next to the portal. She pressed her phone to her ear, praying that Magnus would pick up quickly. Who knew if or when Valentine would come back to get Dot?

“Clary? Did you get him?” Magnus asked.

“No, not exactly. I found his lair but the only person here was Dot.”

“Dot Rollins?”

“Yeah, can you lower your wards so we can portal straight to you?” Clary requested.

Magnus replied without hesitation. “Of course, they’re down. Come quickly, I can only keep them down for a few moments.”

Clary hung up and pulled Dot through the portal, the two of them going sprawling over Magnus’ living room floor. Dot was wracked with a coughing fit, her cheek pressed to the floor, and Magnus hurried to help her up.

“Oh, sweet Dorothea,” Magnus sighed, cupping her face. “What did he do to you?”

Dot’s eyes darted to Clary, before dropping to Magnus’ chest. “I-I don’t know.”

“We’ll look after you, Dot.” Clary assured her.

“Forget about me,” Dot urged, letting Magnus help her onto the sofa. “You need to find Valentine. He has your mother.”

Magnus tutted, snapping some magic to his fingers to begin healing her. “Dorothea, you can’t worry about Valentine right now. Your magic is so low I can’t even feel it.” He looked down at her with mournful eyes, smoothing her hair back from my face. “I’m so sorry that I left you there in Pandemonium all alone. It was inexcusable.”

“You had other things to worry about.” Dot sighed, before turning her gaze back to Clary. “You can’t waste time, Clary. I overheard him talking a couple of days ago, he said he needed better equipment, so he was moving to a hospital.”

“Which hospital? Did you hear?” Clary asked, sitting next to her.

Dot squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to recall. “He said he wanted to be close to his family, which I’m guessing means you.”

“There can’t be many abandoned hospitals in New York City,” Magnus pointed out, “any spare land is seized almost instantly.”

“I’ll ask Luke to come and check them out with me,” Clary nodded, squeezing Dot’s hand. “Thank you, Dot, you’ve probably just saved the entire downworld.”

Dot smiled weakly. “At least my suffering was for something.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“All I know is we have to go. The two of us, we need to get out here. We can go… I don’t know, anywhere. We can take as many weapons as we can carry and we can ask Magnus to make us a portal.” Alec insisted, pacing back and forth in front of the window.

“Alec, the Clave will hunt us for as long as we live if we abandon our posts. You’re still in the clear, I’m not letting you make yourself a target too.” Izzy argued from her spot on the couch. “Listen, I’m okay with this, Alec. It’s alright. If the Clave is so fucked that it’ll excommunicate me for saving a downworlder’s life, then I don’t want any part of it. Clary and I will be fine living as mundanes.”

“Clary abandoned you to face this alone!” Alec yelled. “The Seelie Queen reported that the interdimensional rift was closed, and that there was no sign of Clary anywhere. She took the mortal cup and ran!”

Izzy swallowed hard. “You don’t know that.”

“Well she’s sure as shit alive, because her stele is still active somewhere; the Clave can’t pinpoint it because of the blocking rune but she’s somewhere in this world. And she hasn’t bothered to come back and return the cup even though I’ve left her twelve voicemails. She’s gone, Iz. She’s not coming back.”

“She’s fighting Valentine. How could you just assume that she’s running? After all she’s lost to get here? She has to get her Mom back, Alec.” Izzy argued, leaning forward. “You were ready to get yourself deruned to help me escape but you’re judging Clary for doing everything to help her Mom?”

Alec clenched his jaw. She had a point. “I’m still gonna rip her a new one if she comes back.”

“When, Alec,” Izzy sighed, leaning back to look out the window, “when.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Magnus,” Clary muttered, pulling him out of earshot of Dot, who was now sleeping soundly. “Alec’s left me like a million voicemails. The Clave is putting Izzy on trial for treason and she’ll be deruned if I don’t give them the cup.”

“How long does Izzy have?” Magnus asked, and Clary shrugged helplessly.

“He didn’t say, but by the sounds of it, not much time. We have to find Valentine tonight.” She insisted, “I can’t let Izzy get deruned because of me.”

Magnus nodded, rubbing his fingertips together. “It might be worth reaching out to Luke. The police will have information on all the abandoned hospitals in the city.”

“Great idea,” Clary agreed, sending Luke an SOS text and hoping he wasn’t too busy to help.

“You should tell Alec what’s going on, let him know that you’re safe.” Magnus reminded her, but she shook her head.

“Not right now, Magnus.”

Magnus looked at her with confusion, but he didn’t have a chance to ask why, because the two of them turned at the sound of Dot stirring on the couch behind them.

“What’s going on?” Dot asked, her eyes fluttering open.

“The Clave is holding a friend of ours hostage for the mortal cup,” Magnus explained, crossing the room to help Dot sit up.

Dot looked between Magnus and Clary with wide eyes. “You have the cup?!”

“Sort of…” Clary admitted. “We’re going after Valentine tonight. We don’t have the luxury of time now.”

Her phone started to vibrate, and Clary stepped away to answer Luke’s call. Magnus sat down next to Dot, his hands in his lap.

“How are you feeling? Any magic?” He asked tentatively, trying to keep the guilt from his face. If he’d insisted on her coming with him that night at Pandemonium, she wouldn’t have been taken.

Dot shook her head, her eyes on Clary. She glanced uneasily at Magnus as he reached over to take her hands in his own. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry.” Magnus dropped her hands, biting the inside of his cheek. “I just… You said once that you took great comfort in physical touch. I wanted to remind you that you’re not alone.”

“Right…” Dot nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. “Well, that was before…”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” Magnus agreed. He got up from the sofa to give Dot some space, making himself useful by conjuring a fresh set of clothes for Dot to change into. “Do you want me to just…”

“No, I’ll change myself,” Dot insisted, looking pointedly at the door.

Magnus smiled reassuringly at her, and let himself out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Luke’s compiling a list of hospitals. He said you’re right,” Clary told him, tucking her phone back into her pocket, “there’s only gonna be a couple to check out.”

“That’s good news.” Magnus nodded, glancing back over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door and fiddling with his shirt cuffs.

“What is it, Magnus? Something wrong with Dot?”

Magnus pursed his lips. “I’m not sure. It’s just… Odd. I’ve known Dot for two centuries, and I’ve seen her react to tragedy and trauma before. Valentine must have done unspeakable things to her to break her spirit like this. She couldn’t even look me in the eye.”

“What do you think he wanted her for?” Clary asked fearfully, her voice low.

“I dread to think,” Magnus muttered, a shudder running down his spine. “We’ll have to keep a close eye on her over the next few days.”

Clary nodded in agreement, opening her mouth to say that it was odd that Dot hadn’t asked about her runes or how she’d stayed safe, but both she and Magnus were pulled out of their conversation by a knock on the door. Magnus closed his eyes and reached out with his magic to check who was at his door, and he mouthed ‘Alec’ to Clary with wide eyes. She darted to the bedroom door and knocked quietly, letting herself in the moment Dot called out with an affirmative. As the bedroom door clicked shut, Magnus made his way over to the front door, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt at the sight of Alexander.

“This is an unexpected pleasure.” Magnus smiled, not moving to let Alec into the loft.

Alec looked past him, confusion scrunching his eyebrows. “Do you have someone here?”

“Of course not! No, of course not. I just wasn’t sure if you were staying. Drink?” He offered. Alec stepped around him and wandered into the loft, wringing his hands together.

“No, I’m, uh… Here on business.”

“Need a party planner for the wedding?” Magnus teased, going to his drinks cart to pour himself a martini.

Alec cleared his throat. “No… Actually…”

Magnus glanced at him at the sound of hesitation, raising his eyebrow.

“I broke up with Lydia,” Alec confessed. “Well, it’s not really breaking up since we were never really together in any meaningful way, but…”

“You…?” Magnus may have poured a little too much vodka into the glass. “You broke up with her?!”

Alec nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “She’s putting Izzy on trial for treason. I couldn’t… I can’t marry someone who’d see Izzy deruned.”

“Oh…”

“She needs a defense attorney. She asked for you. I told her it was impossible, but…” Alec ran his hand through his hair.

Magnus sat down in an armchair, swirling his finger in his glass before popping it in his mouth.

“You’re just about the only person in the world who cares about what happens to either of us. I don’t know what else to do.” Alec admitted, his eyes fixed on Magnus’ lips despite himself. “I know a downworlder can’t defend a shadowhunter in court.”

“But a shadowhunter accused of a crime can choose any advocate.” Magnus pointed out, crossing his legs.

“That can’t mean a downworlder…” Alec frowned, tangling his fingers together behind his back.

Magnus smirked. “The Clave never thought that any self-respecting shadowhunter would ever choose a downworlder to defend them back in the Time of Angels, so they left a little loophole in their constitution. One that I’ve quite stylishly leapt through several times in my long life. Isabelle is not the first shadowhunter friend of mine to get in trouble with the law,” Magnus explained, taking a sip of his drink.

“But the Clave wouldn’t like you defending her…”

“They wouldn’t like it but there’s not a damned thing they could do about it,” Magnus gloated, standing up. “As the old fools say, ‘the law is the law.’” He croaked, pointing at Alec with an exaggerated trembling finger. Alec snorted. “So there’s nothing stopping me from hopping through that gaping loophole once again… For the right price.”

“Name it,” Alec shrugged.

Magnus’ lips twitched. “You.”

“Me?” Alec pointed at his own chest, swallowing hard. Surely he couldn’t mean…

“I’ll even do you pro-bono.”

Alec chuckled nervously, taking a step back. “Magnus…”

“It was worth a try,” Magnus huffed, giving Alec a wink. “I mostly wanted to see the look on your face.”

“God, I thought my heart was going to bust through my binder.” Alec muttered, massaging his palpitating heart.

Magnus smiled slightly, sitting back down. “How was the consultation?”

“Uhh…” Alec scratched the back of his head. “It was fine. Are you going to help Izzy?”

“Of course I am,” Magnus rolled his eyes, “I couldn’t just stand by and allow her to be deruned for standing up to the Clave’s bigotry. So did the consultation make you feel better about the surgery? Do you want to talk about it?”

Alec clammed up a little, having not even begun to sort through his feelings about his impending surgery. He wrung his hands together. “Can we talk about it after the trial?”

Magnus nodded, squeezing Alec’s shoulder. “Whenever you need me.”

“Thanks, Magnus.” Alec smiled at him for a moment. “I should get back. The trial’s tomorrow. 10am.”

“I’ll be there,” Magnus assured him, sighing quietly to himself as he watched the younger man let himself out of the loft. The moment the door clicked shut, Clary emerged from the bedroom. “I can’t help you with Valentine; I have to defend Izzy.”

Clary nodded, smiling sadly. “One of us has to be there for her.”

“It’ll be alright,” Magnus promised, “all they want is the cup. I can drag it out for as long as it takes to catch Valentine, then you can give the cup back to the Clave and they’ll let Izzy go.”

“I’ll ask Luke to help me,” Clary decided. There was no way she could take Valentine alone, and as his ex-parabatai, Luke knew Valentine better than anyone. “He just texted; he’s on his way over with the list of hospitals.”

“Excellent,” Magnus smiled, wandering over to the bookshelf. “While you chase down those leads, I’m going to brush up on Clave law. It’s been over a century since I last went to court.” He cast his eyes to the bedroom door. “How’s Dot?”

Clary shrugged, biting her lip. “She’s… Different.”

“Yes, I felt it too.” Magnus agreed. The Dot he knew was gentle but witty. He couldn’t recall Dot making any jokes or snarky comments at him from the moment she got there. Of course, she’d been through hell, but even when Dot had gotten trapped in Edom for a few days over a hundred years ago, she hadn’t been like this. Magnus remembered finding her, motionless, drained of energy, and yet the moment she’d woken up she’d made a sarcastic comment about Magnus looking old when he cried. “There’s something not right, here.”

“Luke’s outside,” Clary sighed, glancing down at her phone. “I gotta go.”

Magnus nodded, giving her a quick squeeze. “Good luck, biscuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clary texted just as Magnus was getting to the institute the next morning, telling him that she and Luke had found Valentine’s hiding spot; a hospital in Queens that was infested with demons and guarded by a dozen circle members. Feeling a little better about their chances of catching Valentine, especially since Magnus and Clary had managed to figure out what exactly was going on with Dot during the night, Magnus walked into the institute with a spring in his step. Unfortunately, his good mood was quickly crushed, because Lydia was waiting for him by the door.

“This is all your fault, warlock!” She growled at him as he passed.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Of course it is.”

“I know you convinced Alec to call off our engagement.” Lydia’s face was furious.

“I wish I could take the credit, princess, but that’s all Alec.”

Lydia shook her head. “We could have accomplished great things together. You’ve ruined his life.”

“Mmmm, I’m sure,” Magnus sighed, looking around the institute for Alec. “Where’s the trial taking place?”

Wordlessly, Lydia pointed at a door. Magnus smiled sweetly at her, and sauntered past. He thanked his lucky stars that Alec had found the strength to end things with her before he found himself married to her; she was a nightmare. A cardboard cutout of a thoroughly indoctrinated Clave lackey. Alec could do better. His own chances with Alec, Magnus knew, were still slim, but he felt a little better knowing that Alec was going to look for a woman who would at least have a mind of her own, one that was compatible with Alec’s.

Inside, Alec was pacing in front of the soul sword, which was stuck in a pedestal at the centre of the room, guarded by a silent brother, who was ignoring the Lightwood siblings. Izzy was sat behind a desk in front of it, staring straight ahead. As Magnus shut the door behind him, Alec looked up and sighed in relief. Izzy stood and rushed towards him to hug him.

“Thank you so much for this, Magnus,” she whispered.

“Of course, Isabelle. I’ll take any opportunity to piss off the Clave, you know that.” He teased, nodding at Alec with a small smile.

As soon as the two of them broke apart, people started filing in, filling the seats behind them. The Inquisitor filed in last as everyone took their seats, sitting in a throne behind the soul sword. Magnus fought the urge to roll his eyes at the pomp. He stepped up to the soul sword, standing opposite the silent brother.

“Will I die if I touch it?” Magnus asked.

“Only if you lie,” the Inquisitor answered dryly. Magnus pursed his lips and reached out to grasp the hilt.

“By the power of the sword,” the silent brother said, or rather, projected into the minds of everyone in the room, “do you swear to defend your client with integrity and honesty?”

Magnus shrugged, his hands still on the sword. “No argument from me on that.”

Lydia walked past him at that moment, taking a seat at the table opposite Izzy’s. It didn’t surprise Magnus that Lydia was the prosecutor, but it unsettled him a little. There was no way that she was going to be fair on Izzy now that Alec had dumped her. “Your honour, I question the defendant’s choice of advocate.”

The inquisitor waved Lydia’s concern away. “The law is the law, Miss Branwell. No matter what our opinions may be, Miss Lightwood has the inarguable right to choose her advocate.” Lydia didn’t look pleased, but she sat down at her table nevertheless. “Present your case, warlock.”

“My case is simple,” Magnus told her, raising his chin. “It is true that my client, Isabelle Lightwood, acted against the orders of the Clave. However, the Clave’s orders were unlawful and unethical. Therefore Isabelle, no matter what action she would have taken in that instance, would have been breaking the law. So, if you insist on deruning Isabelle for treason, I would hope that you would also derune Mr Lightwood and Miss Branwell, as well as all the shadowhunters that assisted in carrying out the unlawful imprisoning and planned torture of the Seelie knight Meliorn.”

“Your honour, that’s absurd,” Lydia argued, “the Clave’s orders are absolute, and I followed them to the letter.”

“What exactly is lawful,” Magnus replied calmly, “about arresting a downworlder with no evidence linking said downworlder to the crime he is accused of? Have you read the Accords, Miss Branwell? Madame Inquisitor? I was there when they wrote them.”

Alec smirked, pressing his fingers to his lips. He knew that Magnus would be a natural at this. As Magnus and Lydia quoted sections of the Accords at each other, the Inquisitor held up her hand to stop them. Izzy glanced back at Alec, giving him a hopeful smile, which he returned.

“That’s enough. We are all familiar with the Accords. I will grant you, warlock, that Miss Branwell’s decision to imprison the Seelie knight was unlawful, but Miss Branwell is not the shadowhunter on trial today. Isabelle Lightwood is a low ranking shadowhunter who went out of her way to jeopardise a Clave sanctioned mission. This is not a case of ethics, this is a case of whether or not Miss Lightwood is worthy of the Clave’s trust and therefore worthy of her runes.” The Inquisitor insisted. “I want a valid argument to explain why Miss Lightwood is worthy of that trust.”

“What you really want,” Magnus said, “is the mortal cup.”

A rumble of whispers broke out among the people watching.

Magnus tilted his head to the side. “You can hide between your pomp, Madame Inquisitor, but everyone in this room knows that Isabelle Lightwood is being held ransom for the mortal cup. Since this trial is not what it has been filed as, which is, Isabelle Lightwood versus the Clave, I move to have this case dismissed. Put the cup on trial.”

“You’re out of order.” The Inquisitor warned him.

“No,” Magnus shook his head, his fierce eyes locked on the Inquisitor’s. “You, in actuality, are the one who is out of order. This whole court is out of order. Nothing about this joke of a trial is in order.”

She looked away, sighing. “Well that’s all very dramatic, warlock, but the fact is that I run this court, and I decide who gets punished for what crime.”

As he turned away in disgust, Magnus caught sight of Lydia. She was looking down at her notes with confusion, he head in her hands. Frowning, he took a seat next to Izzy. It seemed as if everyone in the room was waiting on Lydia to begin her arguments, but the blonde was so frazzled that she didn’t notice for a long moment.

“Miss Branwell. If you would call your first witness,” the Inquisitor pressed, making Lydia look up.

“Yes, Madame Inquisitor. I’d like to call Isabelle Lightwood as my first witness.” She replied, getting to her feet. She looked rattled, grabbing a piece of paper to turn around in her hands. Magnus recognised it as the nervous tic it was, and he dared to wonder for a moment if Lydia had realised her hypocrisy. Izzy took the stand with grace, her face sombre but unashamed. “You admit that you helped the Seelie Knight Meliorn escape Clave custody, I assume?”

“I do.” Izzy answered, not looking at Lydia but at Magnus, who nodded encouragingly at her. “Because I believe that downworlders need our protection as mundanes do, and I could not stand by and watch the Accords be violated.”

“A noble motive, I’m sure,” the Inquisitor drawled, “but not one that excuses the crime.”

“What crime is there if Isabelle was protecting the Clave from itself?” Magnus demanded, standing up.

“We’ve been through this already, warlock, sit down. Continue, Miss Branwell.”

Lydia nodded, still turning the piece of paper in her hand around and around. “You said that you carried out this so-called rescue mission by yourself. It’s very impressive that you subdued six shadowhunters, including your own brother, and escaped with the Seelie.”

“Thank you, Miss Branwell.” Izzy smiled sweetly.

“Did you know that there were sightings of Clary Fairchild near the City of Bones on the night in question?”

“No.” Izzy said, “I did not. Maybe she was out for a walk.”

“You have a sexual relationship with Miss Fairchild, do you not?” Lydia asked, tilting her head to the side as people in the audience started to whisper amongst themselves.

Izzy pursed her lips, willing her cheeks not to flush. “No. Clary and I do not have a sexual relationship, but we do have a romantic one.”

“Tomato, tomah-to.” Lydia smirked.

Alec glared at the back of Lydia’s head, shame and unease crawling in his stomach.

“Madame Inquisitor, this is character assassination and I won’t stand for it!” Magnus insisted, “this is utterly irrelevant to the case in point. Isabelle’s feelings for Clary Fairchild have absolutely nothing to do with the mortal cup being missing.”

“If Mr Bane would allow me to finish my argument,” Lydia replied coolly, “then perhaps he would understand the relevance.”

“Continue, Miss Branwell. Though I warn you, I do not want this trial to turn into some perverted homosexual love story.”

Alec bit his tongue so hard he swore it was about to bleed, and he could tell Magnus wasn’t faring much better through the hard, tense line of his shoulders. He wanted so badly to reach out to squeeze his hand, but he could feel the homophobia in the room like a palpable monster stalking the aisles, and he didn’t dare.

“I’ll skim over the details, Madame Inquisitor. It is believed that Clary Fairchild found the cup a few days ago, shortly before my arrival in New York. She created a public spectacle by kissing Miss Lightwood in the ops centre to ensure that the shadowhunters of the New York Institute would avert their eyes, and then hid the cup right under our noses.”

“That’s not what happened,” Izzy blurted out.

Lydia turned to her. “No? Then how did Clary Fairchild come to have the cup, Miss Lightwood?”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus stood up again, resting his palms on the table in front of him. “Could somebody clarify something for me? Is Isabelle being questioned as to whether or not she helped Melion escape, or is she being questioned about the whereabouts of the mortal cup? I simply cannot keep up with this joke of a trial.”

The Inquisitor considered his words for a moment. “The warlock is right, Miss Branwell. The Clave will question Miss Lightwood on the cup’s location once she has been found guilty. Please focus on Miss Lightwood’s role in the Seelie’s escape.”

“As you wish, Madame Inquisitor,” Lydia nodded, the nerves suddenly coming back onto her face. “In that case, I have no further questions for Miss Lightwood.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes as Lydia slunk back to her table. He had a feeling that Lydia had seen that legally she had no leg to stand on, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to take advantage of it. “Miss Lightwood,” he began, buttoning his jacket, “what is the main function of the Accords, in your opinion?”

“The main function?” Izzy asked, wringing her hands together. “I think… I’m not an expert, but what I took from it is that the shadowhunters used to treat downworlders like animals, hunting them for pleasure. I think the Accords put a stop to that, and continue to protect downworlders against unnecessary cruelty.”

“And would you say that Miss Branwell’s arrest and attempted torture of Meliorn was unnecessary cruelty?”

“Yes,” Izzy nodded, “there was no concrete evidence linking Meliorn to Valentine. She only arrested him because he was the easiest Seelie to get a hold of as the liaison to the Clave.”

Magnus hummed in agreement. “So you would go so far as to say this was racial profiling?”

“Yes. It certainly was.” Izzy heaved in a deep breath and stood up, looking hard at the assembled members of the Clave. “Valentine didn’t come out of nowhere. His blatant bigotry, his mission to kill all downworlders might disturb you, but you, the Clave, are the ones that bred this hatred and distrust. By teaching young shadowhunters that they have the right to treat a downworlder’s life as worthless, by teaching them that downworlders are tools to be used as weapons of war, by teaching them that relationships between downworlders and shadowhunters are somehow shameful, you are teaching them that to treat downworlders as inferior is good and just. We, the shadowhunters of the Clave, use our angel blood to justify everything we do, just like him. And yet you wring your hands and sigh and tut at Valentine’s actions, like you didn’t teach him the same way you taught all of us. Luckily, some of us know better. Some of us have reached out with both arms to downworlders and found not enemies, but friends. Friends that deserve our respect, and our protection. And that’s exactly what I did. I protected my friend from the cruelty and injustice of what the Clave has become.”

“That is quite enough, Miss Lightwood.” The Inquisitor interrupted, holding up her hand.

“No, I don’t think it is.” Lydia spoke up, hesitation in her voice. Magnus looked around to see her getting to her feet. “With all due respect, Madame Inquisitor, I have no case here. The warlock is right; Miss Lightwood was protecting the Accords. We cannot try her on grounds of treason, at least not without proof that she stole the mortal cup. I withdraw the charges.”

Alec’s breath caught in his throat, and he met Izzy’s hopeful eyes before glancing at Magnus, who was smiling with satisfaction. He turned to face the Inquisitor, and shrugged.

“Looks like your prosecutor’s got nothing, Madame Inquisitor.” He told her smugly, flicking open his briefcase and magicking papers and confetti into the air.

The courtroom erupted into chaos; people were cheering and booing in equal measure, and Alec ran up to Izzy to envelop her in a tight hug before turning to Magnus, pressing his face into the man’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing him so hard that Magnus wheezed, before turning back to Izzy with a grin on his face. She was going to be alright. She was going to be fine.

“Silence!” The Inquisitor commanded, banging her gavel, and the Lightwoods and Magnus turned to look at her. “If you think, Miss Branwell, that refusing to prosecute the defendant means she will go unpunished, then you are mistaken.” She straightened up in her chair, lifting her chin. “If the mortal cup is not returned to the Clave’s hands in 24 hours, Isabelle Lightwood will be deruned.” She banged her gavel down once more.

“That’s not the law!” Alec argued. “What happened to ‘the law is hard, but it’s the law?!’ Where are your principles?!”

“In times of war, Miss Lightwood,” the Inquisitor spat, rising from her chair, “principles must be bent.”

Alec was shocked into silence, the spiteful misgendering hitting him like a slap across the face. He hadn’t been misgendered in years. Hardly anyone knew that he was trans. He met the Inquisitor’s eye as she walked towards him, his stomach dropping at the smug hatred he saw there.

“If I were you, I would avoid drawing attention to myself, though… I know how your kind crave attention and infamy.” She hissed at him, before walking past him and out the door.

“What did she say to you?” Magnus demanded, taking his arm, but Alec shook his head.

“Alec…?” Lydia stepped into his line of sight, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I’m sorry. She-”

“It’s fine,” Alec sniffed, straightening his spine, “forget it.” He turned to Izzy, who looked like she was about to cry. “We’ll fix this.” He promised her, “we’ll get the cup.”

He was going to find Clary Fray if it killed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Clary, I’m coming with you.” Dot insisted, walking around the corner to where Luke and Clary were preparing to storm the hospital, “I’ve regained enough power to use portals. I’ll come, and be your means of escape if anything goes wrong.”

Luke and Clary looked at each other for a long moment, remembering their conversation the night before while they checked out Valentine’s lair, and nodded. They’d both come to the conclusion that there was something off about Dot, but that in order to get her back to normal, they’d have to see how it all played out.

“Here, take my gun,” Luke held it out to her, “you should keep your magic for a life or death situation. Valentine’s shadowhunters might have angel blood, but they won’t survive a gunshot to the head.”

“Thank you, Lucian.” She smiled at him as she took it.

“This place was crawling with demons last night,” Clary observed, looking up at the windows of the old hospital. “Are they hiding from the daylight?”

“Valentine wants to draw us in,” Dot guessed, “force you to use the cup.”

“You’re probably right,” Luke agreed, sighing as he noticed three circle members stream out of the front doors. “I’ll engage them. Clary, you get inside. You can use the cup if necessary to keep the demons off your back. Dot…”

“She’s with me,” Clary insisted, ducking out of the way of a seraph blade as the circle members reached them. Luckily, the three of them jumped at the chance to fight a werewolf, and Clary managed to slip past, Dot in tow, as Luke started to transform.

The halls of the hospital were covered in graffiti, but devoid of demons, and Clary rushed through them with Dot hot on her heels. They walked in almost silence, their panting breaths the only sound echoing back to them in the empty halls. Clary realised she had absolutely no idea on where to even begin looking for her mother, but the memory of sneaking into the Hotel DuMort with the Lightwoods burst into her consciousness, and she paused for a moment.

“What is it?” Dot asked impatiently, “we don’t have much time.”

“She’ll be in the middle of the hospital,” Clary murmured, “in the most secure room. Valentine is shadowhunter trained; he’d know the the middle would be most secure. Let’s go.”

Dot nodded, smiling a little. “Seems the shadowhunters have taught you well.”

It didn’t take long to find the very centre of the building; up on the first floor there was a big room that Clary assumed once served as the upstairs reception. As she pushed open the door, she caught sight of her mother, encased in green magic, and floating a few feet above the ground as if she were lying on an invisible bed. Her seraph blade clattering to the ground, Clary rushed forwards, reaching out to touch her mother after all this time. The magic tingled on her hands as they passed through the translucent barrier to stroke Jocelyn’s hair back from her face, but Jocelyn didn’t wake. Clary shook her gently, calling her, but nothing seemed to work. She looked up at Dot, who was more concerned with the noises starting to grow in volume in the corridors outside.

Luke came running around the corner down the hallway, back in human form, wearing only tattered underwear, his eyes wide. “Get ready to cast locking runes!” He yelled as a horde of demons turned the corner a few feet behind him.

Leaving her mother’s side for a moment, Clary grabbed her stele and ran towards the doorway, letting Luke slide past her before slamming the doors shut and quickly burning a barricade rune into the wood. Luke scrambled up from the ground, his eyes fixed on Jocelyn’s prone body. Clary went to his side once she was sure that the demons couldn’t get in, and squeezed his hand.

“She’s alive,” Clary said quietly, “but I can’t wake her up.”

“Magnus will know how,” Luke assured her, licking his lips. “Right now we have to figure out how we’re going to get out of here.”

Clary pulled what looked like the mortal cup out of her satchel, and Dot’s eyes widened. “I’ll use this.” She held the cup aloft, and commanded the demons, “find Valentine!”

The demons threw themselves against the doors and walls around them with even more fervour than before, so Clary repeated herself, her voice louder. It had no effect, and Dot hurried to her side. Her eyes were fixed on the cup.

“Give it to me. Maybe my magic will wake it up.” She suggested, holding out her hands. Clary glanced at Luke, who shook his head, but Clary put it in her hands. The moment Dot had a hold of the cup, she stepped away from Clary and Luke, gazing at it as if it were, well, magical. “Finally,” she muttered, her thumb stroking over the glowing curve of it, “my time has come.”

“What are you talking about?” Luke demanded.

Dot turned around to face them, the cup in her hand, and pulled a stele out of her pocket with the other. Clary pursed her lips as Dot traced a glamour rune into her wrist, and her form shuddered and turned back into Valentine. As his face transformed back to normal, he looked up at Clary and Luke’s expressions, anticipating confusion. Luke was aghast, horrified, but Clary looked almost bored.

“Did you really think you could fool the High Warlock of Brooklyn with a rune glamour?” Clary asked. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“It matters not what your pet warlock knows,” Valentine sneered, holding up the cup in his hand. “Demons! Attack my enemies!”

Luke tensed, but Clary was smirking, her hand reaching back inside her satchel.

“Demons, stop!” Clary shouted, glancing at the walls as the demons started to burrow through the concrete. Without so much as a growl, the demons paused, waiting for further instruction. After a moment to gather her most gloating expression, Clary looked at Valentine, right as Luke started to laugh. “You’re not the only one who can cast a glamour, Valentine.” Clary sneered, pointing to the #1 Dad mug that Valentine was holding.

Valentine growled, and hurled the mug to the ground.

“What do you think, Luke? Should we let the demons deal with him?” Clary asked, bringing the real mortal cup into sight.

Luke shook his head, advancing on his ex parabatai. “No. He’s mine.”

“Demons, be gone!” Clary called, and the demons melted away, retreating back to whatever dark hole they’d crawled out of. “Luke, we should bring him in alive.”

“Of course,” Luke nodded, “I just want to talk.”

“All you ever did was talk,” Valentine scoffed, “you were always a coward.”

“That’s why you had me turned into a wolf. Because I was a coward and you weren’t scared of me,” Luke shot back sarcastically, stepping closer to Valentine.

“I turned you into a wolf because you stole Jocelyn from me! I thought that she’d have more dignity than to choose a filthy animal over me! Clearly I was wrong! She’s just as filthy as you are.” Valentine growled, brandishing the gun that Luke had given him before. “What was it you said, Lucian? Even shadowhunters will be put down by a bullet to the head?! I wonder if that applies to dogs as well.”

“You leave him alone!” Clary shouted, stepping in front of Luke.

“You have no idea what this thing put our family through, Clarissa. Step aside, let me end this, and we can be a family again.” Valentine promised.

Clary shook her head. “Luke is all the family I need.”

“Have you seen Lucian in his dog form, Clarissa? It’s disgusting. He’s a wild animal, he will rip you to shreds if you get in his way.”

“He’s not the one with a gun pointed between my eyes.” Clary pointed out.

Valentine pursed his lips, and lowered the gun slowly. “Fair point. Do me a favour, would you? Wake up your mother? All three of us must be ready for the work ahead.”

“What work?” Luke taunted, “we have the cup. You have nothing.”

Valentine grinned, slipping a ring off his finger and smashing the stone on the ground. A portal appeared behind him, and before Clary and Luke could grab him, he’d disappeared. Luke and Clary looked at each other, and fell into a hug.

“You could have warned me before I gave him that gun.” Luke huffed, and Clary laughed. The two of them headed over to Jocelyn’s side.

“Do you really think Magnus can wake her up?” Clary asked, looking down at her mother’s sleeping body.

“Magnus can do anything.” Luke assured her. “Come on, let’s get her to him.”

Clary shook her head. “No, we have to go to the institute. Izzy’s running out of time, we need to give the cup back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alec got back from his search to see Clary standing in the ops centre, handing the cup over to Lydia. He felt a flash of rage hot in his stomach, and stormed across the room. She smiled at him as he approached, but it quickly faded to fear.

“It’s about goddamn time.” Alec snarled. “Where have you been?!”

“I found my mother,” Clary explained, holding up her hands, “look, I’ve returned the cup, now Izzy can be freed.”

Alec clenched his jaw, hands on his hips. “You told me that you were serious about Izzy, that you cared about her.”

“I’m going to go and deliver the good news to the Inquisitor.” Lydia told them, “Alec, I hope there’s no hard feelings after all thi-”

“Walk away, Lydia.” Alec gritted out, not taking his eyes off Clary. “Well? Any explanation? At all? You took the cup without telling me, and you nearly handed it over to Valentine. You put Izzy’s life in danger and you didn’t even manage to bring Valentine in.”

“I’m sorry, Alec. I had to save my Mom. It wasn’t my intention to put the cup in danger, you know that.” Clary replied.

“Was it your intention to trade Izzy’s life for Jocelyn’s?” Alec demanded, “would it have been worth it, if Izzy had been deruned?!”

“She wasn’t, so what does it matter?” Clary snapped, her green eyes meeting his dark ones. “Why are you picking a fight?! Everything’s fine!”

“Fine?!” Alec repeated, “you broke Izzy’s trust and your mother’s still asleep. God knows how you’re going to wake her up.”

Clary opened her mouth to respond, but she had nothing to say. She knew that it had been the right thing to do, and that Izzy would understand that what she did was for the greater good. When Jocelyn woke up, she could tell them everything they needed to know about Valentine, which could turn the war in their favour. As much as it hurt, that Alec was angry, Clary also knew that it didn’t really matter.

“I’m going to go,” Alec sighed, running his hand through his hair, “and tell my sister that she still has a future. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from the both of us.”

“Izzy was in on my plan, Alec, she helped me figure it out. She’ll understand.” Clary called after him, but he didn’t turn back as he walked away from her.

He paused once he got around the corner, forcing the tension, the anger, from his body. There was no point in wasting more energy on Clary’s antics. Izzy had been freed; this was supposed to be a victory. She deserved to hear this from Alec when he was calm and happy. Once he’d come back to himself a little, he carried onto Izzy’s room.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised that Magnus had stayed with her. After all, Magnus and Izzy had struck up a friendship since he came into their lives a couple of weeks ago. Alec shouldn’t have been surprised to see Magnus sitting with her on the sofa, her hand encased in two of his. They were smiling a little sadly at each other, but the two of them looked up at the sound of Alec entering the room.

Alec smiled at his sister, putting his hands out. “The Clave has the cup. You’re officially pardoned.”

“Clary got back?!” Izzy stood up, the light that Alec hadn’t realised had been missing growing in her eyes. “Where is she?!”

“I… She’s around, I don’t know. The point is, you’re not going to be deruned.” Alec reminded her, taking her by the shoulders. “You future’s still bright.”

Izzy was looking past Alec, trying to see if Clary was with him. She forced herself to focus on her brother, but all she could think of was Clary. “That’s wonderful.”

“It is wonderful,” Magnus volunteered, standing up and shrugging on his jacket. “I’m so happy for you, Isabelle.”

“Where are you going in such a rush?” Izzy asked, “don’t you have to, I don’t know… Pick up your payment?” She wiggled her eyebrows a little, tilting her head in Alec’s direction.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Magnus kindly offered to do me- it. He-”

Izzy giggled, and Magnus smirked.

“He offered to do IT pro-bono. Though…” Alec looked at Magnus through his eyelashes. “We both certainly owe him a favour.”

“I’m going to go and find Clary,” Izzy declared, “you two should talk.”

“Why would you want to go and find the woman who betrayed you?” Alec frowned, standing in the doorway so Izzy couldn’t pass. “She put your whole life at risk. For what?”

Izzy glowered at him. “I know you think you have to safeguard me because you’re my big brother, but I can look out for myself.”

“You’re just going to let her get away with almost getting you deruned?!”

“No, actually, I’m not.” Izzy replied flatly. “But I am going to hear her out.”

Alec opened his mouth to respond, but he knew there was no point arguing. Clary had, after all, ultimately saved the day, no matter how painful it was to admit. Alec just wished she’d returned his call and told him the plan. He did not take kindly to feeling helpless. With another little push from Izzy, Alec stepped aside and allowed her to pass him.

“Clary did remarkably well considering she’s only been a shadowhunter for a few weeks,” Magnus pointed out tentatively, once Izzy was gone. Alec folded his arms, grumbling.

“I suppose.”

Magnus sighed, and buttoned his jacket. “Walk me out, would you?” He let Alec go first, gesturing to the door with his arm, and Alec smiled at the chivalrous gesture, passing through the doorway before Magnus. “So what’s the plan now?”

“With Valentine?” Alec asked uneasily, “I have no idea.”

“I was talking about you, Alexander. You called off your engagement, but you didn’t call off your surgery. I was just… Wondering… If the consultation put your mind at ease. If you’d decided…” Magnus explained.

Alec shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “Honestly I have no fucking idea what I’m doing with any of it. I… I still need a wife. Especially now that Clary’s back. And she failed to get Valentine. You felt the hatred in that room when Lydia talked about Izzy’s feelings for Clary. I don’t know. I have no idea, Magnus.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” Magnus nodded, walking with his eyes on the ground, pausing for a moment to consider his next words. “For the record… I understand why you feel you need to go through with this, but if Izzy can come through this…”

“It’s different. Izzy had the law on her side. I don’t.”

“Yes, I know. I just hate the thought of you doing all this, compromising your happiness, going through a surgery you don’t want, just to please those pigs. I…” Magnus breathed in sharply.

Alec smiled slightly, nudging Magnus a little. “I know. But… I don’t know. I feel a little better after the consultation. Like I said before, binders are hell. I’m not gonna lie, the thought of not having to wear one is tempting, to say the least. And having Cat there? It changes things. I mean, for the sake of a week of iratzes and bed rest, I could stand in front of a mirror and not hate what I see?” He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. “I just wish it wasn’t happening at the same as all this Valentine bullshit.”

“I don’t suppose there’ll ever be a quiet few months in the life of a shadowhunter.” Magnus chuckled.

“Nope, not until I’m dead.”

Magnus snorted, turning to face Alec as they reached the front door. “Well, whatever happens… I hope you know I’ll be here for you. As a friend.”

“A friend?” Alec repeated, his heart sinking a little.

“Alexander,” Magnus shook his head. “I won’t be a married man’s dirty little secret. I’m worth more than that.”

Alec gulped, nodding. “Yeah. Yes, you’re right. You are, of course you are.” He looked down at his feet. “You deserve everything.”

Magnus’ gaze softened, and he cursed Alec’s ability to reduce him to mush with a simple, honest sentence. “I wish things could be different.”

“Me too.” Alec whispered, squeezing Magnus’ hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Izzy found Clary in the infirmary, watching over her mother. Clary looked up the moment Izzy appeared in the doorway, and got to her feet so quickly that her chair keeled over. The redhead’s expression was fearful, and her anxiety only grew when Izzy swallowed hard, making no move to come further into the room.

“Iz…”

“You didn’t check in.” Izzy pointed out.

Clary pressed her lips together. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I-”

“I was almost deruned… Everyone was saying that you’d abandoned me. I thought you might have run.” Izzy shook her head, tucking her hair between her ears. “You could have called when you got back from the other dimension.”

Clary scratched her forehead. “I kinda had bigger things to worry about, Iz. You know, like, stopping Valentine before the Clave decided to wipe all your angel blood from your veins. I didn’t have time to stop and think. I didn’t have time to breathe, I had to get it done.”

“So you let me think that you’d run away for my own good?”

“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant!” Clary insisted.

Izzy walked a little further in the room, close enough to Clary that the redhead could see the hurt in her eyes. “You couldn’t spare thirty seconds to return Alec’s call?”

“I saw things in that other dimension, alright?!” Clary blurted out, “things that I needed to process.”

“Like what?” Izzy asked, eyebrows furrowing in the middle.

Clary pursed her lips and looked away. “Valentine was a good man. Alec was… He was… Totally different. And you?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “You and me were still together. Even though we weren’t shadowhunters, even though odds were that we’d never have met, we somehow found our way to each other, even there. And… I… Look, I’ve only been in this world for a couple of weeks. Vampires and werewolves and magic… And now… Soulmates?”

“You…” Izzy had never been more confused. “So you took that to mean we were soulmates? And your way of dealing with that was to let me go through that trial with radio silence from you?! Is there logic here, Clary, because I’m not following.”

“I didn’t think about it!” Clary confessed, “all I knew is that I had to get my Mom back. She is the one thing that was constant. She was there, she was the same. I had to get her back. I need something to… When I was in that dimension, I needed something to ground me in that world. My Mom is that to me. She grounds me, Iz, in this insane shadow world I’ve been hurled into. I… Barely know you. I’ve only known you for two weeks, and I feel so much, I don’t know what to do with it. I need her, Iz. I need her to help me understand all of this.”

Izzy sucked her lower lip into her mouth, her mind reeling. “I understand how important she is to you. I understand why you felt so focussed on her. But you let me face the scariest moment of my life without a single word. Can you see how that would make me feel?”

“Of course I do,” Clary replied, walking around her Mom to approach Izzy, taking her hands. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care what happened. I just had to save her.”

“I know.” Izzy said quietly, pulling her hands from Clary’s. “Just give me a couple of days, yeah?”

Clary opened her mouth to protest, but she nodded. “Alright. Okay. Yeah.”

Izzy gave her a swift, soft kiss on the cheek, before sweeping out of the room.

Next Chapter

#transgender alec lightwood #shadowhunters fanfic #shadowhunters fanfiction #fighting the good fight #ftgf verse #content #writing

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octoberwren · 7 years

Text

If it’s words you seek (I’ll Remember You) Chapter 2.

Thank you all so much for loving this odd ball fic, seriously I can not tell you enough how much I adore you all for it! The only thing I have to say about this chapter is that it almost killed me. I wanted it to be perfect, so of course I ended up re-writing it like a thousand times. Yep. (I’m neurotic about posting no matter how many time I’ve done it, I’d hate to disappoint you guys who have liked it so much.) But now that it’s done I’m happy with it, you might not be with the amount of angst. I can’t write fluff guys. I wish I could, my mind would love me more for it.

Anyway...happy reading! Hope you enjoy. Seeing as this is going to be a multi-fic you’re more than welcome to ask me to tag you in it! I love doing that ; )

Chapter 1 here

Also on Ao3 for your convenience

(I own nothing, Marvel owns me)

Summary: Darcy Lewis is many things, avoidance expert, current holder of the Hydra Survivor Cup and not to boast, but she's at an expert level with self defense in sarcasm and shiny wit.

What she's absolutely not is Steve Rogers Soulmate, she doesn't give a flying monkey what The Universe is trying to tell her with the 'gifts' she's recently acquired, i.e Reading His Mind and other tricks that have to do with The Good Captain.Her and Steve?

Pffft, that's never gonna happen.

Chapter 2: Hindsight is a bitch and so is HYDRA.

3 years ago

Darcy loved her job, most days. The benefits were good, and honestly, she needed those, it was all fine and dandy being an intern with Jane when there weren't Aliens and Gods trying to have a smackdown on planet earth. And for some Loony Toons reason, Darcy was always smack dab in the middle of all of that world ending hoopla.

So when Nick Fury himself offered her a job, well what was she supposed to say?

No. She could have said no, Jane had demanded she say "Fuck no, you damn pirate." But Darcy really needed the health coverage, it was just a hop skip and away before she was shot at, and she was trying to be an adult and handle her business.

Janey hated the idea, but she slowly came around when Darcy had pointed out quite reasonably, if she said so herself, that what better way to keep an eye on S.H.I.E.L.D shenanigans than to have an all-access pass to their home base.

Technically her job title was ‘File Manager', so a lackey in Nick Fury terms, Darcy fully believed he'd only given her the job so he could keep an eye on her. But whatever, she had a coffee shop in her workplace and a hell of a view.

A view she had been creepy staring at for over three months now, it was borderline stalker behavior. But the man had an ass that wouldn't quit, and that navy uniform did so many things for Darcy's late night imagination, that she physically couldn't help but stare.

It was only when she started noticing other things that Darcy thought she may be in some trouble here.

Like the way he opened doors for the science dudes, who stuttered and looked on in awe, or how he sometimes looked so lost, like a boy who let go of his mother's hand. He came in some days bloody and broken, with eyes that seemed too haunted to be real. It took everything Darcy had and then some not to rush over and hug the stuffing out of his chest, just so he didn't look like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders alone.

Four months in and when she could actually detect his steady steps from a room away, Darcy decided that enough was enough, she needed to do something before she bear-hugged the man out of sheer frustration.

It was then that Darcy came up with a foolproof plan; because everyone loved coffee right? Right.

She'd put on her big girl pants and give him something to smile about because his sad face was breaking her soul, so she ordered a coffee just the way he like it, ignoring the side-eye she received from the barista when she wrote down the order.

She then marched her butt down to his office that looked as bummed out as he was, with the plain gray walls and bare furnishing practically screaming his loneliness out loud with hand gestures. Darcy lifted her hand to knock on the Captain's door, only to reel back in shock when it opened up.

Steve Rogers towered over her and for a split second Darcy felt like she was going to lose her breath, he was just so damn handsome it was unfair to the people of earth.

His open face blanked carefully when he saw her standing there holding two coffees. He took in his name on one of the cups and Darcy's stomach dropped when she saw the flicker of something flash through his eyes. Before he even opened his mouth, Darcy had the strangest sort of sixth sense, she felt something disastrous coming her way, she knew exactly what he was going to say and she wanted to stop this, she wanted to wake up this morning in total ignorance. The coffee cups started to tremble in her hands as she began to wish feverently that this wasn't what she thought is was.

But Steve didn't notice her distress, he spoke the words that damned them both, "Sorry Miss, but whatever the hell this is, you're not my priority."

And just as she knew it would, Darcy's world shifted on its axis and fell apart at her feet.

She opened her mouth ignoring everything in her screaming to shut the hell up-keep quiet-he doesn't need to know- it was instinctive, she wanted to say something, anything to him, not to leave her alone like this, but she could only let out a stutter, It was too late anyway, he was already turning away from her, even when the coffees fell from her hand and landed on the floor in a wet mess, he never even glanced back in her direction.

Darcy stood like a statue, watching Captain America-no-Steve Rogers (because of fucking course her mother was right. She wasn't special, she'd never be great enough for him, for the world he belonged to.) walk away with his shoulders straight like the soldier he was. He blocked out the evening sun as he left her and engulfed her surroundings in darkness.

Darcy really thinks her brain is coming up with bullshit metaphors at inappropriate times, but she can't breathe. Let alone think.

She's left standing in the middle of his door, the air around her seemed so much colder than it was before, her teeth started chattering against the freezing air and she wanted to break down and laugh or cry, maybe both, she wanted to sink to her knees and yell that she knew it, she knew this was always going to be her downfall.

All those years of looking at her mark, she had stupidly convinced herself that she was bigger than this moment.

It was the worst lie she had ever told herself.

She couldn't breathe.

And for a vomit inducing second she thought she was going to black out, but then no, she knew this feeling, she just hadn't felt it for a few years now, she was having a panic attack. Joyness abound today.

She slid to the ground slowly, tracking her breaths, trying to touch the floor, smell the air, until her heart didn't feel like it was going to explode from her chest in a gory mess.

She hadn't felt this fragile-and her mind spits the word like venom-since she left her shitty hometown, filled with shitty people.

Because this wasn't some average Joe…it wasn't someone who thought she was just a body with big boobs and no brains or even someone that thought her life experience consisted of a nice suburban life and no real tragedy. It wasn't even her mother's condescending taunting, Darcy dear, are you sure you want to go out in that? Are you sure Political Science is the field for you? Don't you think he'll love you more if you cleaned the house?

This was someone that-Thor help her- she wanted respect from. She had actually wanted him to like her, she all but scoffs at that, all she got was a mere glance and words that she never thought would spill from his perfect lips.

Steve Rogers was her soulmate, a shudder wracks her body with just that thought, he was a good person, all the things she told herself about her mythical ‘one' was ignorant.

She had read about his heroic deeds in history class and had admired him long before he turned out to be alive and walking in the same semi-circle as her own.

What the hell was the universe thinking pairing her up with him? Her insecurities seemed to drown out the noise of the building as she got up and headed home.

In the days, weeks after, Darcy was a mess, and she couldn't shake herself out of it no matter how stubbornly she wanted to. It felt like her soul was missing, and maybe it was, maybe he took it from her the moment he spoke.

She went from rage to helplessness. One day she was convinced she was going to storm into his office and yell every curse words she knew and ones that she made up on the spot. She wanted to see him regret ever speaking those words, but before she'd even get to his door she ran away in a fit of panic.

There were plenty times she just paced the hallway and Darcy knew she looked crazy, hell, she felt like a nutjob. She stayed away from work a lot as well, she was surprised Nick Fury didn't burst into her room and drag her out by her feet. (In the oncoming days she realized why he didn't and Darcy barely kept the tears away when she thought about how her life would have been, if she just put on the news)

Darcy had finally made up her mind, she would just say something, he had the right to at least know, Darcy couldn't keep it from him, that was unfair, although she really, really wanted to. It was taking most of her strength not to get on a plane and book it to the nearest deserted island. She wanted to crawl into a ball and scream until her throat was sore. But Darcy Lewis wasn't a coward, and she wouldn't let her shitty hometown be right about her. She wasn't second best, she deserved more out of her life than to be a throwaway thought.

Steve may not want her around but he'd at least know what they meant to each other, then and only then could he decide on where he wanted her in his world. (and if he didn't want her anywhere near him, then she would accept it like the grown-up she was, even if the very thought left her with an ache in her heart,)

So with that, Darcy bought a new cup of coffee, and so help her if he even thought of turning the drink of Gods away again, she entered his empty office and waited and then waited some more.

She stood for so long, straining to hear even the slightest noise, that her back protested her very existence. Bored, she put the coffee down at his table and sat at his desk, his chair swiveled and she amused herself by twirling in it, and almost threw it to the ground when she heard a noise outside. When it grew quiet again and her thundering heart settled down, she figured it wasn't Steve about to catch her in her lunacy.

When she heard the thud again she got annoyed at the dumbass that was ruining her fun times, she was an anxiety-ridden mess and whoever the hell that was, was going to get a mouth full from her when she let loose all her nervous ramblings and probably, no definitely, some insults.

She stormed out the room and peeked around a corner but she instantly deflated when she saw Adam looking at her sheepishly, while he tried to get into another office a few doors down. Adam was a good guy but he looked more like he should be down with the sciences dudes, than working as a field agent. He was also spacy enough that forgetting his keys was common enough occurrence.

Darcy was about to offer her help like she normally did, but stopped when she heard a familiar deep voice coming from the speakers, Steve's voiced echoed along the walls and what came next made her blood run cold with fear.

"Attention all S.H.I.E.L.D agents, this is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time, to tell the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The S.T.R.I.K.E and insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know their in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury and it won't end there. If you launch those helicairriers today, HYDRA will kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not."

Darcy's emotions ping-ponged from self-disgust and shame that she didn't know, after all these days, Steve had been going through so much worse things than her. He said he had been hunted, like he was just a step away from a bullet and she really fucking hoped he was okay because she wasn't sure she'd forgive herself if he wasn't.

Next was a burning anger that made her skin hot thinking of those HYDRA dicks, she fucking hated Nazi's and she hated that she worked in a place that was crawling with them. It was like a light switch clicked on, as Darcy realized that she wasn't alone listening to that announcement. When her eyes met Adam's, Darcy wanted to spit, his mask of clumsiness had fallen away and in its place was an ugly rage that she had never seen on another human face before. He looked alien to her.

"Oh Darcy," He leered at her, and she wanted to throw up, preferably on him, the dickwad. "I really wish he had waited at least a few seconds. This might have been less painful for you."

She had a second to think ‘what the actual fuck?' before he took steps towards her, but nope, she backed the hell up and slammed the door in his face, sliding the lock home.

"Please, Darcy, you think that will stop HYDRA?" His voice was too smooth behind the door, to clean and Darcy never hated someone so much in her life. "Do you think he can stop this? We're HYDRA, If a head is cut off, one shall grow in its place."

She snorted at that, even when the door kicked in she was still chuckling with amusement at these massive douche-nozzles, "Is that in your brochure? Because and I'm just being honest here, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You do know that the Greek legend ended with Hercules killing the monster right? You have cracked open a book before, right?. So I'd say the odds are against you here Adam, there's a real-life legend kicking your buddies asses right now, no way you're getting out of this alive."

Wow, who knew a vein could thorb that angrily? Guess she hit a nerve, she wasn't smug, much. Oh who the hell was she kidding, the smirk curved her face like war paint.

"This is what's going to happen little girl," she didn't actually think he could piss her off more, but that kind of flew out the window and died a horrible death with that remark, "You're going to stay still and not move, I'm going to take all the information I can out of your hero's computer. I'll take you away and get a promotion for all my trouble. You, on the other hand, will be locked away in a room so small, that by week one you'll have lost your mind, your bravado will vanish and I'll be there every step of the way to watch it happen."

She could lie to herself and say she was just buying time until help arrived, or that she was a second away from getting out of this. But the dread was lodged like a stone in her stomach, and she could tell that no one was coming for her. Especially not the man she really wanted to see, he was probably a bit busy saving the world.

There was no way out, but even as her fingers shook with terror, she'd still be damned if she let him see her fear, he wouldn't get that from her, "Okay dude, just two things, this is the twenty-first century, do you really want to be walking around as a chauvinistic prick? Because I think that's the wrong lifestyle choice."

"Also, who said it was just bravado? Kudos on the big words, by the way, some people, but not you obviously, would clearly see all my talk for what it was... Stalling." Darcy then flipped over the coffee cup that was for Steve and it sloshed over the computer's hard drive, there was a sizzle and- a quite frankly- underwhelming whine as the thing was destroyed.

She glanced up at his gaping mouth and shrugged carelessly, "Guess that promotion is off the table now, huh? Sucks for you."

The last thing Darcy could recall without a head-splitting throb was a fist barrelling towards her face.

Three years later and Adam was lying in his own pool of blood while Darcy stood over him, knife in her hand, and sick threatening to give way, and if she could go back, she'd tell that girl pacing outside of Steve's office to say something. To stop being such a chicken shit and use her damn voice. She had enough light in her soul to be worthy of his affection, she could be what the universe believed she was; the perfect match for him.

Now though, she had crimson blood dripping from her hands and guilt suffocating her lungs, his love was the last thing Darcy would ever deserve.

Present

Steve stumbled back from her, shaking his head as if to clear it, "What the hell?"

Darcy turned her head, she really didn't want to see what realization he came to, what kind of emotions she had unwilling let him feel, she just hoped whatever he was going to do, he'd make it quick and spare her the drama. This day had been long enough already, she was exhausted, she really didn't care how it ended at this point. Even if they had a prison at this…she was on a farm… How the hell did she only notice that now, where exactly did they expect to keep her locked up, in the barn with Betty the cow?

"Steve what-" Whatever Bucky was going to say was drowned out by her startled shriek, as Steve bloody Rodgers, reached down and hauled her off the ground and into his arms.

Darcy wasn't going to lie, this was on her her bucket list, but she was too shocked to actually enjoy the moment, she's also pretty sure she looked like an absolute idiot with her mouth hanging open as she stared up at his face.

His strong jawline of freedom tightened, when he noticed her appalled look, and was it her imagination or was he blushing slightly? She had to reel in the urge to pinch his cheeks, she succeeded, but by barely an inch of self-control.

"You're in agonizing pain, Miss Lewis. I could feel it." Darcy felt the rumble of his voice against her side, and she needed to have a stern talking to with her body because she shivered in response to the feeling and now was definitely not the time for her it to start perking up like a bloodhound.

He did smell sinfully good though, and her lady parts loved it. She wasn't even sorry.

If anything it looked like Steve blushed harder and her curiosity was building, she really wanted to ask what kind of aftershave he used (she thought it may have been specially made just for her, like in an actual lab somewhere) but that would involve speaking, and that was something she was going to avoid at all costs. Like the end of the world type stakes before she even uttered an I'm-your-soulmate-let's-go-for-coffee-and- by- coffee-I mean-sex.

"So," Steve cleared his throat and shifted her in his grip, and damn she wanted to melt into a puddle as she watched his muscles flex and ripple, "You can communicate your thoughts through touch?"

It was then that Darcy realized a few things in rapid succession, Steve had no idea that it was only him that she could communicate with through touch, hell she didn't even know she had that little trick up her sleeve or she would have built a literal wall around herself and not just her emotions.

Another thing was when Steve felt her pain, he picked her up gently, he was still holding her as if she was made of glass, it wasn't a big revelation but it was just so damn sweet of him that it made the cliff notes, especially if he felt her guilt, then he really was the best man she had ever come across. (He really needed to cut that shit out if he ever expected her not to love him.)

The last thing was probably the more important one, her hands were wrapped around his neck, so he had to be feeling all the inappropriate thoughts about those muscles, and how she had fantasized about the many things he could do with them.

So now she was flailing around in his arms as she tried to break free because nope, him actually knowing she lusted after him ruined The Plan. The not talking to him until death or the world imploded plan. It had its flaws but it was working so far.

She wasn't exactly succeeding in trying to run away with some sort of dignity intact, Steve just held her tighter in his unmovable arms, "Miss Lewis, please stop, you'll hurt yourself and despite what you may think, even if you did betray us, I wouldn't want anyone to be hurt under my watch. And you're in too much pain to disrupt your injuries any further."

She wished she could tell him that his words hurt a hell of a lot worse than any bullet wounds she suffered from. Darcy was used to physical pain, it was always her emotions that ran a little too deep and cut too sharply with her.

She assumed that he had felt her guilt and hey, at least she knew now where she stood. That didn't stop her from folding her arms across her chest as he walked into the house. If she could minimise skin contact and her subsequent humiliation then she would take every precaution she could.

They walked past the kids, now watching tv and Darcy didn't stick out her tongue when the little girl giggled at her position in Steve's arms. She was an adult, she had loads of restraint.

No, she did not. She leant over Steve's huge shoulder and stuck her tongue out at the little tattle tail.

"That wasn't very nice," Steve said as they entered the hallway she had bolted from, she could hear the amusement softening his tone, and Darcy couldn't help the grin that teased her lips if she tried.

His answering grin lit the embers of a flame she thought had been killed years ago, she had to reached down deep to actually feel that it was hope surging in her bloodstream. Darcy tried desperately to douse it but it kept flickering up again, and she wished that whatever happened next that, that small amount of hope didn't end up sealing her fate for the worse.

Fun fact, fear was one of the biggest triggers to her bond with Steve, Hydra used that information brutally. And an awesome effect was that being experimented on left Darcy with a healthy dose of fearing needles. So when Steve had left her in the room with Helen, the doctor who she really regretted pushing and yeah she felt like a dick for hurting the woman, but now that she had a huge needle in her hands, she would call them very much even, alright.

Darcy tried closing her eyes and counting to ten, she tried wrapping her hands in the sheets to feels something concrete, but her heart wouldn't stop slamming against her rib cage, she didn't want this, she hated this, invading his privacy. It wasn't hers to have, it was never hers to keep. She couldn't just-

"Sam touched her," Steve said to half of The Avengers, all sitting on the porch looking up at their leader

"What?" Clint asked standing behind a brunette that Darcy knew from past episodes of Walking In Steve's Shoes, was the archer's wife and Soulmate. She cradled a baby in her hands and Darcy had never seen something so small and fragile before or that damn adorable.

Natasha got to what Steve was trying to say first, "When Darcy touched Sam, I assume he felt nothing?" When the man nodded his answer, she carried on, "She made skin contact with Helen as well."

"So what you're sayin' is that Steve's finally got a girl he can understand?" Bucky chuckled at his friend's heated glare, but Darcy didn't feel real happy. If they could figure this out it was only a step closer to that something bigger and more terrifying.

Steve wasn't stupid, he'd add it all up and get a big fat Soulmate red flag.

The only shot she had was that he was still feeling confused, "All I felt was guilt and pain." He stated and Darcy felt a sudden rush of worry, for her. It was so out of left field it left her mind silent. A miracle that had never been achieved before.

"They flipped her then?" Sam asked but Steve was already shaking his head.

"No." He was using his Captain's voice, the one that demanded attention and Darcy could feel her eyes tear up outside of his mind, she didn't think she needed his support until she got it. She had been afraid he would look at her with eyes that were cold, that she would become his enemy. And deep down, to the squishy part of her that was forever vulnerable where this man was concerned, that part of her knew, if Steve had ever come to despise her, it was probably one of the only things left in this world that could tear her to shreds.

"I thought maybe at first she might have been, but that's not the guilt I recognized. It was self-loathing. I think Miss Lewis fought her way out of HYDRA, she probably killed the bastards that took her, and that's what's eating her up inside." Darcy felt that swirling black rage again, it almost swallowed her up with its ferocity. Steve was livid, and she got the suspicious feeling that if she left anyone of them alive, he'd finish what she had started.

"Why'd she run then?" Clint's wife, Laura, asked while rocking her child in her arms, Darcy felt a pang of envy as she looked on with Steve's gaze at the family, and she almost choked on her tongue when she sorted through the huge mass of emotions to fully realize that, that one had came from her. Well shit, that wasn't ever going to be thought of or repeated again.

"She was scared," Steve shrugged looking away from his teammates to the evening sky beyond them, "she just got out of an extreme situation, trust probably isn't her first priority right now."

Darcy felt searing pain hearing that word repeated again, and this time she knew that came purely from her own body. Her chest burnt with it and she needed out, she wanted to keel over and just breathe properly for the first time in three years, without fear of this curse she had robbing her of her own mind.

She just wanted this to end.

But no one was listening to her, they never did.

“I think-" and Steve said this so softly that even in her head, she still struggled to hear him, and maybe she didn't want to, "I think I'm hurting her."

Darcy's link slammed closed and she took in deep gulps of fresh tasting oxygen, Helen was standing over her hands stretched as if to press down onto her chest.

"I'm fine." Darcy wheezed out, bending her head over her knees.

"Yeah and I'm not still mad about you shoving me." The small woman said with an arch of her eyebrow, but she still looked ready to give Darcy CPR.

"I'm sorry about that, I was a bit-" She searched for the right words to come to her, but her mind felt like sludge.

Helen helpfully filled in the blanks, "Crazy?" or not as helpful as she thought. But Darcy still snorted out a laugh. In another life, they might have have been great friends.

"I was going to say freaked out but yeah, that works."She laid back down on the bed when her words turned slurred, "Did you give me smumthing?"

"Yes. You were severely exhausted, frankly I don't even know how you were still standing." Darcy tried to say something back, about her award-winning stubbornness maybe? She also feels like she should be a little more freaked the fuck out by losing awarenesses, but she couldn't get all that worked up about it.

She felt way too groovy.

Darcy's going in and out of consciousness when she opens her eyes again to a clash of blue, so bright that she smiles at it like it's the sun itself. She remembers that blue, and it never failed to bring an ache of longing to her world.

She lets herself feel the safety in that gaze that looks so welcoming, she loves the warmth that spreads through her like a campfire and she wants to stay in this moment forever, she wants to keep that feeling close to her, so she never feels alone again. She even lets her fingers reach out to touch and when she collides with something warm, she instantly gets hit with a strong sense of what she always assumed home would feel like.

And for once Darcy sleeps without nightmares or a fear of what the next day will bring.

Apparently what it brings is one pissed of God of Thunder and a tiny astrophysicist that wants to defend her honor and say fuck a lot while she does it, so y'know, the days looking brighter than the last.

Silver linings and all that shit.

Soooo? I hope you enjoyed it! If not, thanks for sticking with me this far! Much Love guys!

#shieldshock #shieldshock fanfic #darcy x steve fanfic #my fics #angst like whoa #soulmate au #slow burn #steve is stubborn #and darcy even more so #hence the slow burn #soulmate with a twist #darcy has some tricks up her sleeve is what i'm saying #steve rogers x darcy lewis

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