A/N: Hello. I had yet another plot bunny form, but I haven't abandoned the other ones. I'm excited about this one, though; I have a lot in store for it.

Also, I'm not claiming to know everything about these sorts of procedures, so please bear with me.

Constructive criticism makes my world go round, and I'm open for a beta (if someone's up for it).

Onward!

WARNING: There is some blood and like description in this chapter, and there will be throughout the story. I don't think it's too graphic, but just a heads up.

VVVVV

Alec huffs over the coffee in his hands. The steam wisps and swirls up from the mug between his fingers; it warms them. It's too early for this. Much, much too early. Yet he finds himself there at the station, the sun barely over the horizon, and… Crap, he forgot to brush his hair again. He sighs, pleased that he arrived a day earlier than his partner so he can't nag at him or faun. The agent peels one of his pleasantly warmed hands from the heated ceramic and pushes it through his hair, hoping to tame it some. The action is in vain and causes him to lose some precious warmth. His hair pokes out randomly yet, and it did very little but make it worse.

He won't give another half-hearted attempt to tame his unruly locks, so he flicks his blue eyes over to the door – one that should open to reveal an increasingly late officer to explain the details of this case. So far Alec could have slept in fifteen more minutes and contemplates a nap as he waits.

Yet the redolence of the sweet elixir before him keeps him conscious; it's something worth staying awake for. So he takes a sip, a long, warm sip that injects energy into his veins.

That person best bring more coffee when he arrives if he desires to keep his head.

Alec was called into the godforsaken city of New York a day ago and, quite the nomad that he is, was able to hop on the next flight (yet his partner has "obligations" to attend to, so he'll arrive the next day). Several hours later he landed, found himself a hotel, and was forced awake at the ungodly hour of five o'clock. Yet from what he gathered of the case from what they'd been given, there are a few linked homicides with little evidence. And the details are gruesome, but he didn't see any of the pictures yet - he will soon enough.

The door clicks open, forcing Alec's attention from his thoughts and coffee to the newcomer. A small smile tugs at his lips as a familiar figure emerges; maybe the person's identity is enough to save him. Maybe.

"Jace," he recollects, nostalgia washing over him. "I didn't think this was glamorous enough work for you."

The man scoffs, yet a grin is apparent. "Saving people, patrolling the streets, I'm practically a hero!"

"And yet you need help with this case." Alec takes another sip of his coffee, which is doing its magic alongside his old friend's presence.

Jace sighs and drops a rather thick file on the table between them, plops down in a chair. "Unfortunately. I could have handled this all on my own, but nooooo. The superiors feel it's better to get some agents involved."

Alec snorts, clearly amused. "If only you were a bit more brain and a bit less brawn."

"Hey!" Jace narrows his eyes at him and flips the file open to the first page. "Watch your mouth. Anyway, we have three deaths so far."

Alec raises a brow. "Three?"

He is silenced further from a pointed look from Jace. "They were all found in their homes, but you should look at them. Here's the first victim - a woman by the name of Victoria."

A photo after another is shoved across the table toward Alec, who takes each one and studies the pictures. If there were times he's happy he's never awake enough for breakfast in the morning, now is one of those moments. Even after coming in contact with numerous bodies or photos thereof, he still has a limit. These push it, so he tries to look at them as quickly as possible.

Alec wishes that Victoria had been dead before the killer began his work on her body, although he doubts that's true. Her legs are twisted in unnatural directions, yet the skin there appears to be intact. Although there's blood, and lots of it; he presumes it came from her back. There he notices a sign – it's hard to miss - that encompasses its entirety. Much of it is blotted out, thanks to the sheer amount of blood that had oozed from the injury, but there's an extra, clearer picture of the mark. How Alec can describe it, he doesn't know.

The lines swirl together, loop, and he swears there's a sideways "A" in there. Maybe a "D" of some sort. Whatever it is, and no matter how macabre it may be, it's masterful and intricate work. He blinks at it, cataloging the symbol.

"I'm assuming this is on the other victims?"

"On both the second and the third, yes." Alec hears the ruffling of sheets as Jace procures two more images.

"Although with the second victim, William, it's on his torso." The poor man's death is just as horrific as Victoria's. "And Camille's is also on her back."

Alec blinks between the three. The same engraving, and a link that even an elementary school student can conclude. Yet it's something, and Alec will have to see if he can research the symbol.

"What else do you have?"

"Their deaths range within the past month. The first body was discovered on January thirtieth, the second February eighth, and the last one February nineteenth." Jace counts them off on his fingers, and then sighs. "And then my superiors insisted on calling in some help."

Alec snorts and shakes his head slightly. He knows Jace is capable, yes, and perhaps best in the city, but he's probably too confident for his own good. Or he's giving Alec a hard time. Sometimes it's hard tell even after all those years.

"What do you have for witness accounts?"

"Very little," Jace speaks after a moment. "The killer gets in and out with so much as a knocked-over vase. No one has seen anything or given us anything of use."

Alec bites at his lower lip, nods. He'll have to look at the case file and study it, he knows that, but that's limiting. Unless…

"Security footage?" He's hopeful…

… Until Jace mercilessly crushes his dreams. "Nothing."

It's Alec's turn to sigh as he arranges the pictures into a neat pile and face down. If he were to get enough coffee, he can probably start on reading through the file later on that morning (god knows how much of it is left). It'll be a substantial start, and then he can subsequently and accordingly plan their course of action.

Alec was granted the room to sprawl out in, the mug freshly filled and steaming away. After consuming another between his initial coffee and the one waiting on his table, he's ready to start analyzing the file.

His blue eyes scan crime scene images, notes, documents, the information that the file allows him. The three victims, ranging in age from 27 to 54, no consistent gender, all rather well-off and well-known enough, identical deaths, the mysterious mark. Alec pushes the document in his hand - the notes of a family member - before moving on to the next one. No enemy in common.

Yet he isn't deterred; it's still the first day, and he's still in the process of exploring the case. There is still so much to learn and piece together.

At this point, however, Alec is certain that they aren't random; there was too much work being put into them. That symbol, that painful symbol nags at him and tugs him toward that conclusion. Why would someone use something that complex if it were for the thrill of killing? No, it's much too meticulous. Not to mention the already well-known lack of a trace.

As much as Alec hates it, he will probably need to examine a crime scene, and none of the three have one left. That means there would have to be a fourth. He pinches his nose, scrunches his eyes shut. He'll just have to keep reading and stop getting ahead of himself. He'll have to return to the file and see what else he can pick out, see what he can do, who he can talk to, and hope his partner will arrive at a reasonable time the next day, and they will solve this with little to no hassle.

Although he knew that isn't how it works.

Alec sighs, takes another sip of his coffee, and begins a list. He'll have to take the sign by some anthropology professor who can either tell him what it is or point him in a direction that can, he'll have to talk to forensics about whatever they may have, he'll have to talk to witnesses again because there are some answers that aren't quite clear, and there. He's smoothing out the path ahead of him.

So, with the coffee now between his hands once again, he returns his eyes to the sea of text and sheets.

That night Alec sinks into his bead, mind buzzing with information, with possible connections, with the case. When he closes his eyes, images from the file flashed before them. They'll likely keep him up for a little bit – not that he doesn't mind. It's something that'll serve as a background noise even during his downtime.

And it'll allow him something to occupy his mind for whenever his sister hears he's in town. She'll likely blow a gasket – that Alec knows – but she'll quickly forgive him. It isn't that he doesn't like Isabelle, he adores his sister dearly, but he knows certain inevitable topics she'll try to discuss and the places she'll drag him to.

And she knows the biggest clubs in New York.

And he knows his partner will be ecstatic to return to some familiar ones.

And that isn't his scene.

Things happen there all the time he prefers to not know about, and there are far too many people. They're sweaty, panty, writhing, undiscerning, varying levels of drunk, and they render him uncomfortable.

But, even with the clock reading precisely 12:03 am, his cellphone blares on the nightstand. He groans and rolls over. The cursed object lays on the surface, dancing and singing away merrily as he glares. Whoever's calling at such an hour and interrupting his attempt at sleep and thoughts better have a good reason.

So he gropes the nightstand for the phone, not even giving a triumphant "ah ha!" as his hand falls on it. Instead, Alec unceremoniously snaps the phone open and presses the outdated device to his ear.

"Alexander Lightwood."

He doesn't make an attempt to cover the sleep that leaks into his voice. Serves the caller right.

"Alexander Lightwood, you'd better explain to me why you didn't tell me you were in New York!"

Speak of the devil.

Alec sighs and refrains from smothering himself with his pillow. "Sorry. I'll make sure to let you know next time. It was last minute, and I just got here –"

He knows that isn't entirely true, it burns on his face (luckily it's just a phone call), yet unfortunately she seems to already know.

"You're such a horrible liar. I know why you didn't call, and don't think this is letting you off the hook. Let's call this networking."

Alec raises a brow despite the fact that she can't see. "Networking? I'm an agent who has a fairly good reputation. I don't think I need to network much."

A laugh on the other end of the line cackles away. "A little more never hurt anyone, or how about sister-brother bonding time?"

Alec grumbles a "fine," and then hesitates for a moment. His sister chooses not to speak, but instead waits; it's likely she knows what he's about to ask. "How… How are mom and dad? How's Max?"

An exhale on the other end proves his hypothesis to be true. "They're fine. You should go visit them while you're in town. I'm sure they'd love to see you."

Alec laughs softly to himself. "We'll see."

Noon. Apparently that's when Magnus will arrive in New York, which finds Alec sitting in the waiting room fifteen minutes in advance. His foot taps away on the ground, he fidgets with nerves, and he drops his eyes to the ground. It isn't that he's anxious to see his partner – no, it's quite the contrary – but it's the events that are sure to follow that evening. Isabelle managed to coerce him into agreeing to go to one of her favorite clubs, and Magnus would be thrilled knowing him. His leg is going numb from having it crossed over the other, so he changes positions once again. This time, however, he accidentally bumps into a lady sitting next to him and apologizes quickly.

Her face is creased with age, yet there is a happy twinkle in her eye. "It's no problem, deary." Her voice matches her eyes, a happy tone running underneath her raspy tone. Alec notices at that moment that a flowery perfume overtakes his nose mixed with powders of makeup. "I know how uncomfortable these chairs can be. Lord knows I've waited on enough of them."

Alec merely laughs amicably in hopes of being polite yet not obliging himself to any further conversation. He's there to pick up Magnus, that's it, so it isn't a social call. Much to his dismay, not that he lets it on out of courtesy, she continues.

"You see, my husband and my grandchildren travel a lot." She chuckles as she speaks, scrutinizes him. "You look an awful lot like my son when he was younger. Anyway, I always make sure I'm right here waiting for them when they return." There's pride in her posture as she finishes the statement, her spine impeccably straight and chin high. "That way they know they always have someone they can come back to."

"That sounds very nice." That's all that Alec can think to say, and it's in complete earnestness. "They're lucky."

The woman eyes him for a moment, the corners of her mouth inching up her cheeks. "And you," she starts, "who are you waiting for?"

Alec blinks. "My partner. I got here the day before yesterday, and he's coming today." He blinks yet again, realizing the double meaning of his statement. As she gives him a puzzled expression, he backtracks quickly. "My work partner. We work in pairs, and we call each other our partners."

At this point he can feel his cheeks burning up.

"Ah," the woman sounds, although her eyes are misty with thought. "You know, I have nothing against the gay-folk." She settles him with a stern look, sure to pin him to his spot. "My son is gay, the one I was telling you about. He brought home a friend once, although it was obvious he thought of him differently."

"I don't understand-" He is quieted instantly and listens bewilderedly.

"Ah, don't interrupt your elders." She tsks. "When I asked him about it, he turned red and sputtered. It wouldn't be until a year later that he came out, and he's now happily married to that friend."

"I still don't understand-" He thinks he's picked out her hints, her implications, but he has to be sure. Alec must be losing his mind.

"You're still naïve. How old are you?"

"Twenty six." Alec shifts yet again. He's uncomfortable with the subject, yet he knows there's no way the woman would allow him to change it.

"Twenty six," she repeats, testing the number on her tongue. "You're still very young. Listen to me, and listen to me closely." The woman leans in conspiratorially and drops her voice to a whisper. This forces Alec to turn his head and near the woman in hopes of hearing her in the roaring airport.

"It's obvious that you're smitten. It's written all over you, not just that one slip up. I don't know who he is, but does he make you happy?"

Alec nods, eyes darting out to scan the thickening crowd. A plane probably just unloaded.

"Then don't hold back. Go for him before he slips away."

He peeks at her, taken aback, yet he hadn't been expecting anything else.

"That's easier said than done."

"How so?" She is curious yet challenging.

Alec can go off on a list, starting with the undoubtable destruction of the friendship toward how unprofessional it would be. He never does have the opportunity to reply, though, because an ever familiar voice sounds behind the duo as he opens his mouth.

"Conspiring with grannies, are we? No offense, ma'am, but Alec!"

Alec jumps, spins to find the man in question behind him in all his glittery, flashy glory. Magnus leans forward over the two chairs, meticulously lined and colored eyes darting between the two. Alec stammers, trying to find a response between his sudden arrival and the woman's talk. He finds nothing, so he just presses his lips together once again.

Yet the old woman, quick on her toes as she's proven to be, snips back at him. "If anything you should be concerned for him. You never know what I could be planting into this dear skull of his."

Magnus positively beams, further accentuating his glitter and hues. "I like you."

She smiles back up at him kindly, and then she perks up. "Oh! I think I hear my granddaughter!" Her eyes, grey yet warm, turn to Alec. "Remember our conversation."

The woman turns out to be quick on her toes in more ways than one, which leaves Magnus and Alec watching her barrel toward a poor, unsuspecting descendent of hers.

"So," Magnus starts, turning his amber gaze toward Alec with a mischievous smile, "mind telling me about that conversation?"

Alec peers up at Magnus as he rises to his feet, which is quite a feat since the former is tall as it is, and shrugs. He can feel the residual sting in his cheeks, and he deepens his breath in hopes to keep it at bay. "Nothing much. Just some chitchat."

Magnus raises a brow skeptically, obviously not buying the lie, but he doesn't press it any further much to Alec's relief.

"Should we get going? There's a lot on the case, and there's a lot to do. I've already started on looking through the file." The suggestion rolls of his tongue much easier after it comes to mind, and Magnus gives a "why not" shrug. So Alec sighs. It's been quite the trip to pick him up, but he's elated to have his partner back with him.

After taking an hour to get Magnus situated in the hotel room, they sit cross-legged on the floor in their given room at the station. Magnus, bless the man, slipped away at some point only to reappear with the brown, wondrous, steaming nectar of the angels. Perhaps he had noticed that Alec was reading the same few lines over and over again, or perhaps it was that Alec was rubbing his eyes repeatedly, or maybe even the occasional yawn here or there. Whatever it was that tipped the man off, Alec is grateful and has a mug of piping hot coffee. He inhales the scent, savors it as it engulfs the room. It's time to crack down once again on sorting out the data, and Alec's well-armed with his drink and his partner.

But Magnus seems to want nothing of it.

"Alec."

He glances up to find Magnus looking at him with a tilt of his head. "Yeah?"

"Does your sister know we're in town?" The genuine sincerity and hope on his face makes Alec's heart flutter.

"Yeah. She called me last night, and she wants us to get together tonight." His tone is flat as he returns to a sheet that was now beckoning him. Right.

Alec can't see, but he's certain Magnus is practically vibrating with ecstasy or something like that. "Did she say where?"

"Something about a Pandemonium?" He remembers the name because it's something akin to their case and what parties are usually like: chaotic and in disorder. Alec prides himself in that mnemonic.

"Ohhh, that's a good one!" Magnus hums, and it's clear that he's excited. The room is practically crackling with rampant anticipation.

"Yeah." It's a nice, noncommittal response, and it acknowledges what Mangus said. Yet it seems to not please him.

"You might like this one. Give it a try?"

Alec's focus remains on the sheet in front of him, blocks of texts creating a nice wall between Magnus and him. "I'm already being forced to go by Izzy, and you know clubs aren't my thing."

Magnus sighs. "I know."

This prompts Alec to peek up at Magnus and scrutinize him. His hair that artfully pokes up, much like the opposite of his own bedhead; his almond-shaped eyes that hold the most alluring gold flecked with green and that are skillfully framed in a layer of colors and lines; those kind lips that always seem to turn upward when he sees them; and those long, slender fingers that summon him occasionally or wave away a silly statement; and just the overall masterpiece that was Magnus Bane entranced Alec.

Yeah, so the lady was right, Alec is "smitten" with his partner, but Magnus's definitely out of his league. So while they are friends, and great friends at that, he can't hope for anything more.

Magnus meets Alec's eyes, which prompts the latter to drop them again. Yet they both remain silent – until the door slams open violently to reveal none other than the infamous Jace himself.

Alec can nearly hear Magnus's near growl (he can be such a cat sometimes); the two never really got along. Maybe it's because they're too alike for their own good, or maybe it's because that, despite that, their personalities still clash. Or maybe it was their first meeting (which was an absolute catastrophe).

"Hello, Magnus," Jace greets, his voice tight, as he turns to Alec. "Someone brought in donuts to share." Magnus snorts, which earns a glare from the other two. "You should come get some while there's still some left. You know Officer Roades."

"We will," Alec decides, turning his attention back to Jace. "Staff lounge?"

"Staff lounge." Jace enters the room and crouches down beside the FBI agents. "Tell me, what have you found out? Anything yet?"

Alec exhaled heavily and shook his head. "This is our first day together on this project. We're probably not going to make any progress yet."

"Uhhh, Alec?" He blinks over the Magnus, curiosity tugging an eyebrow up.

"Yeah?"

"This symbol. I know it." The man looks pained, like he's digging through his memory. His lips are pressed together tightly, nearly disappearing into each other, his eyes are narrowed considerably, and thought lines run deep on his forehead.

"What is it?" He couldn't help but ask even if he knew Magnus couldn't remember. Yet he needed the confirmation.

And it came, which did little to ease Magnus's expression.

"So aside from learning what Magnus's constipated must look like," this earned Jace several deaths by glower from the mentioned party, "have you found anything else?"

"Again, no."

Jace clicks his tongue in thought, and then he springs to his feet. "Okay. I should let you two get back. Remember the donuts, play safe, and no paper cuts. Got it?"

Alec is the only one to vaguely give a response, which is a mere bob of the head. Work is calling again.

"I know what it is. What is it?"

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Hush."

Alec laughs and is joined moments later by Magnus.

Has Alec ever mentioned that he hates clubs?

Pandemonium turns out to be no different. It's the same cliché bodies squirming over each other, inebriation, and questionable decisions accompanied by blaring music. Isabelle, Magnus, Jace, and he are crowded around a table much too small for the four of them, yet he can barely make out what they're saying if he's lucky.

And he's fairly certain Isabelle just said something about modeling a new goat for a collection. Or was it a coat? That would make so much more sense.

Someone is shoved into his back, yet not a word or gesture is exchanged between the two. Just him slamming into the table, turning to see who may have been the culprit, and no discernable individual to pick out. So Alec turns back to his companions in a huff, ready to leave, yet knowing that he will be suffering there for hours yet.

Isabelle tries to say something to him, but he can't hear what it is. Alec gives her a quizzical look, and she sighs.

"Would you like something to drink?" Isabelle yells this time so that he can hear her over the pounding bass vibrating through his body.

Oh. Alec hesitates, but concedes a nod. It may be his only saving grace that night, so he might as well go for it. She rises from her seat, probably already asked the other two if they want something, and slinks off. That leaves Magnus, Jace, and Alec. Jace, however, not wanting to be stuck next to Magnus for a few moments conjures up an excuse to help Isabelle with the drinks and protect her from overly friendly strangers – never mind that they all knew she could handle herself beautifully.

"Stop sulking." Magnus prods him with his elbow, and Alec sinks lower in his cushioned chair.

"I'll sulk if I want to." It's immature, he knows, but it's the best he can come up with.

Magnus purses his lips disapprovingly; he can be such a mother sometimes. "I'll buy you coffee again tomorrow from that place you like."

Alec pauses.

"And you haven't seen your sister in a long time."

Crap, that's true.

"And you're acting like a petulant child. Didn't your parents ever tell you to behave?"

Alec huffs and straightens himself, glaring over to Magnus for a brief moment. "You owe me coffee."

Magnus bobs his head in resignation. "I owe you coffee, kid."

"Don't call me 'kid'." At this point Alec knows he should drop this subject all together, but he doesn't.

Magnus, however, doesn't show a sign of caring. "You're younger than I am, and you're acting like a child."

"By only two years!" That isn't a lot!

"Two years can make a big difference."

Alec huffs again, yet he's careful not to resort to sulking again; sulking would mean no more free coffee.

He mutters, "It's just two years."

And although he's sure Magnus can't hear what he just uttered, he sees all the telltale signs of a Magnus snort. The single nod of the head, the convulsion, and the blinding smile afterward that makes his heart flutter.

Isabelle and Jace return not too long after with drinks in hand, laughing away at some joke Isabelle probably heard from a coworker or some story Jace had from work. They take a few sips before attempting to drag Alec off to the writhing heap of bodies, but they manage only to persuade Magnus. So he gives a final glance to Alec, probably making sure he'll be okay alone for a bit, before trailing the three to the legal public orgy.

Which leaves Alec with staring at his drink and on protection duty for the other three. He isn't even sure what it's called, but it burns sharply as it goes down. He makes a mental note to thank his sister later for choosing something strong. Although he refuses to admit it as sulking, he sinks back into his chair again and sighs. With his trusty pal, alcohol, he will be able to make the night! Hopefully. So he takes another sip and digs his phone out of his pocket. Maybe he has a game on there or something. Flip phones can, right?

But, as he was snapping the screen open, an incoming call pops up with a very familiar number. So Alec slides off his chair and weaves his way toward the bathrooms, where hopefully he can find some nearby quite. It isn't perfect by any means, but at least he can understand Sheriff Hodge talking on the other end if he has it on the highest volume setting.

"I've sent you a text with the address." Alec is plugging his other ear to be able to hear the speaker.

"Okay. I'll find Magnus and bring him to the scene as soon as I can." He's practically yelling, but not to the extent that he would have had to at the table.

"Good! I'll see you there!"

"See you there."

And the conversation's done just as soon as it started and leaving Alec in the men's room. So he takes a moment in front of the mirror to study himself. His hair is messier than usual, a result of the long day and now night; his blue eyes stand out dramatically against his dark locks and pale skin; his clothes are nothing special, a simple sweater paired with the jeans he wore on the flight over (and he stands out quite a bit at the club, not that Magnus or Isabelle didn't try to force him into anything a bit more stylish); fatigue hangs under his eyes in the form of bags, something he hadn't really noticed until that moment.

So Alec spins a knob to start the stream of water in the sink and splashes his face. The water is cool and refreshing, waking him ever the slightest from the haze that was descending upon him. He looks back up into the mirror to see droplets sliding down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. A paper towel makes quick work of drying him, and he's back out to look for Magnus. He can only pray that he won't be too hard to find and not too far in the crowd.

Thank the angel, he isn't; he's about fifteen feet in the mass of people, moving in ways Alec didn't know are possible. Unfortunately it still requires him to squeeze past some individuals who seem to desire getting up and personal with him, and he nearly jumps away from them in whatever space he's allowed. He just needs to make it to that spikey head, pull him out, and then they'll be good to go. It's even a two for one, really; it allows them to leave the club early, and it will hopefully yield more information for the case.

When Alec finally makes it to the figure, he taps on his glistening shoulder, yells his name. The ever familiar eyes turn back to him, light up exponentially when they do fall upon him. Magnus's mouth forms the name "Alec", but it's impossible to hear. So Alec gestures for him to come, much to what appears to be his disappointment, but he does so nonetheless.

When they've cleared the crowd (thank the angel again), Alec continues on toward the men's room once again, but with Magnus still in tow.

"Sheriff Hodge called," Alec finally explains once they reach the room, the walls still doing the semi-muffling magic.

"And?" Magnus prompts.

"There's been another homicide. He wants us on the scene as soon as possible."

"It's the middle of the night."

"It's a fresh homicide fitting the profile of our case."

Magnus sighs, pinches his nose for moment in thought. He finally concedes. "Fine. We'll just have to let Izzy and Jace know we're leaving."

"Can do."

The subway is just as bad as Alec remembers it if not worse because of the hour. A few cars down on the rickety vehicle is a cluster of drunk teenagers stumbling and staggering as they stood, their speech slurred to the point of indistinguishable. At one point one of the shorter ones took to yelling the national anthem; it reduced his friends to convulsing piles of inebriated giggles.

Not too far away in the other direction is an elderly man sleeping, not that Alec could complain about that, but he wonders if the old man didn't croak while on his trip home. It's a twitch and a rapid, harsh itching of his nose that would assure Alec of his livelihood.

"You're pouting more than usual." Magnus finally speaks since they'd left the club. Alec wasn't sure at the time if he was miffed from being dragged away from his definition of fun or what may have been the case, but he was unsettlingly silent during the walk.

"You make it sound like I pout all the time." Alec peels his attention from the other passengers to watch Magnus; the latter chuckles lightly and leans his head back on the window behind him.

"Not like this, no."
"You're repeating yourself."

Magnus rolls his head just enough to eye Alec. He fidgets under the gaze, yet he doesn't break the eye contact. "What's bothering you?"

Alec doesn't respond. Instead he turns his attention once again to the teens down the subway, the teens who are now attempting to judge the speed of the train. The national anthem yeller estimates around a hundred miles per hour, an average sized individual with an accent guesses 273 kilometers per hour, and an echoing argument on whether the imperial or metric measuring system is better ensues.

"Alexander," Alec nearly cringes, despises the use of his full first name, "look at me."

And so he does, only to find orbs filled with concern studying him. Why didn't Magnus make a sound when he moved? He's too graceful for his own good.

"What?" It's rude, he knows, and he can bet what Magnus is going to repeat. It's just what happened to come out.

"What's bothering you?"

Alec takes a long pause, shifts in his seat uncomfortably, and drops his gaze to the wall ahead of them. Some ad is plastered there for shoes and sports a soccer-playing woman and man.

"It's being back in New York."

This time, for whatever reason unknown to man, he hears Magnus shuffle against the seat. Surprise is clear in his note-higher pitch. "Being back in New York?"

Alec swallows, shakes his head to banish the memories that invades it. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Alec," Magnus tries, places his elbows on his knees and leans forward. "You know you can trust me, right?"

Alec is the surprised one here, and he blinks up rapidly at Magnus, stumbles much like the drunkards over his words. "Of course! I – What – Of course!"

"And remember that, okay?"

Alec closes his mouth to prevent anymore words from spilling out, so he resorts to nodding an affirmation. This seems enough for Magnus, although barely if his hesitation is anything to go by, and leans back on the subway wall behind him. Much to Alec's pleasure, he doesn't press the subject further, so he resorts to watching the drunken group continues to bicker.

There's a distraught woman sobbing at the door to a towering house. Next to her are a few policemen scribbling rapidly as she manages words between her gasps, all closed off by ribbons of yellow tape. The night, dark and cloaking, masks what lies among the trees enveloping the neighborhood.

Magnus takes the lead, ducking under the single ribbon that would surely hold off any prying eye. "Sheriff!" he calls with an amiable wave, a grin widening as the man gestured them forward.

"I'm glad you both could make it," he mutters, voice intentionally low. "Listen, my people are here to do their work. Let them do it. If you need anything, come contact me. Then again, I'm sure you get this drill enough as it is. He's in the dining room, first door to your left once you enter."

Magnus speaks up before Alec. "Not to worry. It's better to make sure we know than not. We understand, and thank you."

And he starts off toward the house, leaving Alec trotting in his wake. "Alec," he starts again. His pace doesn't falter as he sends a quick glance back to his partner; his mission is on reaching the house and the scene as quickly as possible. "Can you start poking around? I'll talk to the lady and see what happened."

Alec nods and gives a quick "Okay" before turning to enter the house, Magnus striding off toward the distressed woman and the officers.

It's just as grand inside as it is outside, and he stops for a moment to scan the entry. The ceiling looms high overhead, and the halls are vast, leaving Alec feel miniscule with those first few steps. His shoes thud lightly on the wood floor as he pads forward a few more feet, bouncing off the pristine walls and ceiling. He peeks through a doorway lined with a deep colored wood, he's never known how to tell them apart, and spots a few officers crouched around the room. They're flashing their cameras, capturing any little thing that seems out of place; a box sits on the table and appears empty – although it's likely there's a bag or two at the bottom.

Alec steps lightly over toward the box and looks down. His inklings are confirmed; two paper bags lie at the bottom, effectively shielding and capturing the evidence. Someone will find him later to share what they yield, that's certain, but he still can't help the curiosity that begins to pick at his stomach.

"Agent Lightwood!" a voice gasps, snapping Alec from his ponderings. He spots the speaker, a woman most likely his age. She's pretty, he notes; her fiery red hair is pulled back loosely, her delicate face returning from its startled gape to a disapproving frown, and she lowers the camera in front of her lean body. "There's a thing called knocking or at least letting us know you're here."

"Oh." It's all he manages to say. One point to Alec for managing to give the officer a near heart attack; the other just looked back briefly in veiled interest.

She's quickly on topic, which in turn takes Alec aback. "Officer Fray. The body's over there." She points toward a crumpled figure on the ground, "If you want to look at that, do it first. The medical examiner's going to get here pretty soon, and it's going with him"

"Body first," Alec repeats under his breath.

"We're finishing taking pictures of the scene. Nothing looks too out of place like the other homicides, but we can't be too careful anymore."

Alec takes a quick scan of the room to find that it's true to his words, not that he was expecting anything different. The room seems immaculately clean save a shimmering pool of blood around the freshly dead corpse.

"Can you send me a copy of them when you can?" He returns his gaze to her, and she nods.

"Certainly. I'll get your email from Jace. He should have it." For some reason, the fact that Officer Fray knows Jace surprised him, although he knew it shouldn't. They work at the same place for the same department, so it's only natural they would. How close are they? Jace was practically his brother, and they had memories that stretched back to their childhood! He can't let those thoughts bother him, not now at least.

"Great," he manages to croak, earning him a funny look from the officer.

"Okay. Anyway, we also found some pieces that we're sending to forensics." She makes a nod toward the box on the table. "It's not much, but it's something."

"What is it?"

"There's a broken glass. Something probably happened to it during the homicide. Apparently the set is very important to the couple, so it's unlikely that it was already like that. There's also blood on it, which probably belongs to the victim, but again we can't be too careful." She shrugs nonchalantly and continues. "The other is a knife that was found next to the victim. We'll have to ask the wife if it belongs to her, but we suspect it was used."

Alec already knows they will, but he asks out of confirmation. "Let me know the results of the testing, too?"

Officer Fray snorts and smirks. "Of course. Listen, we'll send you whatever we find. We're going through the collection protocol, but if you need anything else, let me know. This case seems like a fun one."

Alec can't help but laugh, and it helps to ebb the waning jealousy. "If that's what you want to call it."

"It's what I'm going to call it. If you find anything juicy, aside from that corpse over there, tell me."

Alec's smile remains. "Okay."

Officer Fray returns to capturing tiny, perhaps insignificant details with her camera, and Alec heeds her advice and meanders over to the body.

The first thing he notices is that always present mark that loudly declares this part of their case – even if it is hidden significantly by a coppery mess. It's no longer bleeding, most likely due to a combination of the man's death and the coagulation sticking to his back, but if the pool around him was anything to go by, it did significantly. With a sickening pang, he realizes that this must have been done without a doubt while they were alive; his vague glimmer of hope is slashed long after its expiration date. He really needs to speak with whoever that medical examiner is.

"The medical examiner said the other victims died of blood loss, right?" Alec already knows the answer, it was written in the file, but he's thinking aloud.

"Yeah, because of whatever that is," Officer Fray answers, rests her camera on the table, and points to the mark. "It's one of the first things Simon will tell you."

Alec grimaces as he tries not to think of the searing pain the victim must have endured. All four of them now. He continues on to scour the body for any other signs of injury, and the hunt is instantly fruitful.

Officer Fray is a step ahead of him, though. "If you look, he was incapacitated most likely before the suspect got to work on his back."

She's right. His legs are slashed – probably to keep him from escaping – and Alec swallows to keep himself from gagging. There's more blood clinging to his legs and floor; he just notices a faint metallic smell in the air.

"I've only seen pictures," Alec prefaces, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the gruesome sight before him and up toward the delightful sight of Officer Fray, "but Victoria's legs were broken."

She nods solemnly. "It's hard to tell in the pictures, but the other two's legs were crippled in some way, too. It seems as though whoever did this wanted to incapacitate them."

Alec snorts, chuckles lightly. "You're doing my job better than I am."

"Nonsense," Officer Fray argues, a kind smile alight on her lips. "You've only just started. You'll figure this out in no time."

Alec can't help but smile back. "We'll see."

Footsteps start rhythmically and growingly down the hall, their pace quick, and Officer Fray lights up.

"That must be Simon here for the body," she informs him, raising her eyes to the doorway. Sure enough, an unfamiliar man appears in the doorway. He pushes his glasses up higher on his nose and brushes some curls out of his face.

"Clary!" he nearly exclaims in an odd informality for such a morbid environment. "Sorry I'm late."

The second officer in the room makes a noise akin to a cough.

"And George. What a pleasant surprise."

Yet George says nothing and continues dusting a surface with powder.

And then Simon's eyes fall on Alec, and a trace of dawning illuminates them. "You must be one of the agents."

Alec nods and rises to his feet. "Alexander Lightwood."

Simon studies him for a moment, and then his eyes drop to the body. He rubs his hands together in, dare Alec think it, excitement. "You and I are going to have a jolly good time." His attention returns briefly to Alec. "And you and I are going to have to talk. Meet me in the morgue tomorrow at noon."

Alec rolls over with a resounding groan. The blankets are pulled up snugly around his neck, engulfing him in an oven of pleasant toastiness, and he snuggles down deeper in them. He has no intentions of leaving his cocoon anytime soon, nor does he intend of leaving the relaxing black abyss behind his eyelids. Not after the last two days of late nights, early mornings, travel, and extra brainwork. No one could make him.

Fortunately for him, Magnus let him be even after he showered and scavenged for some breakfast. It's in those fleeting moments of semi-consciousness that Alec hears the running water or the rummaging through bags in the small fridge. Those melodies of morning are followed not too long after by the rampant tapping of fingers on a keyboard, sounds that lull Alec back into complete unconsciousness once again.

The next thing he knows after that final sink is that someone is shaking his wonderfully covered shoulder. "Alec. Alec, wake up."

He attempts to pull his poor, violated shoulder away from the intruding hand, but the try is in vain. It returns once again.

"Alec. You've slept in longer than you should have, and we have leave to see Simon pretty soon."

Alec mumbles something incoherent into his pillow, and the ruthless awakener sighs heavily.

"You have until the count of three or I'm taking drastic measures."

Alec curls down deeper into his blanket to hide from that force of evil.

"One."

He does nothing more.

"Two."

What's the worst the evil could do?

"Two and a half."

See? It can't even count up right.

"Alec, don't make me reach three."

It should have already if it were doing things right.

"Three."

And a rush of cool air washes over Alec, and his eyes shoot open. He curls in on himself to preserve whatever body heat he may have left, and the absolutely glares at the triumphant man before him. And the blanket in his hands.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Magnus chirps, cheerily smiling as he watches his disgruntled partner. "I hope you slept plenty, but we still have work we need to get done today."