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[astriefer]

I Closed My Eyes And Hoped You'd Catch Me When I Fall

summary: Alastair and Grace are out to patrol, roaming the lively London streets for demonic activity. And if he admitted it to himself, Alastair didn't think patrolling with Grace will be as nice as it is. Until something interrupts their quiet strolling, of course.

words: 2866

CW graphic descriptions of injury, referenced death, referenced abusive relationships. (Tell me if I should any any!)

Odd but not unpleasant, Alastair decided. That how it was to patrol with Grace Blackthorn.

Grace, wearing on full patrol gear next to him, was taciturn. It suited the dark-haired boy just fine. They walked side by side through the streets of London, heeding any demonic activity.

The day had tired him up. At daybreak, Rostam woke up and demanded his undivided attention. He knew his mother or Risa could take care of his baby sibling if he wanted to. Still, he wished to lend a hand with raising Rostam, lessen the burden of taking care of a now 4-months-old baby.

His brother was a curious wee thing that stared at anything with wide, innocent brown eyes, the same color as his own. Everything new would come under scrutiny. Rostam would grasp whatever in his vicinity: toys, food, and clothes of whoever held him. He also liked to be held and shamelessly cried for attention. He particularly loved being in Thomas's arms, the scamp. Cordelia said both her siblings had that in common.

Rostam had begun to protest whenever Alastair tried to bottle feed him with formula, much to the older sibling's displeasure. Sona just laughed it off and kindly pointed out to Alastair he had done the same when he was a baby. He overlooked this remark.

So after a short negotiation (Neh! Rostan cried. No, you can't eat your toy instead. ) to make Rostam have his meal on schedule, Alastair spent the early hours of the day playing with him. It wasn't as if he slumbered much at night and couldn't use further sleep, yet he knew it wasn't likely he would doze off if he tried. And he liked spending time with his baby sibling.

Instead, he was kept busy with a pedestrian enclave meeting that seemed to just go and on to no end. Charles's mouth seemed to not pause for hours, and Alastair wanted to smack Ms. Highsmith in the face for bringing up a question followed by a lengthy answer from Tessa Herondale. He wished it was acceptable to fall asleep during a session, same as children would fall asleep on their parent's shoulder at parties. Alas, Alastair wasn't a little boy anymore. He had no excuse.

Alastair slipped out of the room, excusing himself by claiming he had a patrol shift that night. It was the truth, yet he said that to prevent a pile of new rubbish coming out of Charles's lips as he approached him upon the end of the meeting. As he returned to Cornwall's street, the young man retreated to his father's old study. His study, ever since his father had died. As the man of the house, it was his responsibility to care for matters regarding the upkeep of the house. He plunged into documents and works. Before he knew it, it was time to get ready for the patrol.

He was absorbed in his thoughts, not realizing at first the grey-eyed girl was speaking to him. He grasped the rest of her sentence. "-discuss the rest of our plans."

Alastair blinked. "Yes," his lips curved to a thin smile as he glanced at his friend. "Our plan."

Alastair knew, of course, she didn't mean to patrol.

"Matthew and Christopher are under constant check, provided by James and Cordelia," Grace said forthrightly, with a flat tone he didn't believe to, "Kamala swore to secrecy, and so did Lucie. She was quite disappointed when I told her she cannot write the idea down and show it to everyone. Anna just smirked at us when we asked her to be silent about it. I'm not sure Eugenia will keep it to herself. Hopefully, not a word would get out."

Speaking of Kamala, she had joined them in the institute for a patrol of three, before taking her departure in a rush. She claimed she'd forgotten something urgent and would come back. It was unheard of to have a male and female go together without a supervisor, but it was Alastair and Grace, and there was no one to condemn them.

They strolled down the main square, and Grace observed the mundanes striding the pavements. Her gray eyes skimmed the area, seeking any demonic presence, same as Alastair. It became second nature to every Shadowhunter to be at high alert and be attentive to the environment.

The legal age to be assigned to patrol was eighteen, and Grace was a year younger than the required age. She joined him, though, to practice in the field.  He heard Grace had been secretly training since she young age, with her brother, Jesse, behind their mother's back. She carried a seraph blade, and knives with her to the patrol. When the man once asked, out of boredom, what her favorite weapon was, she retorted with a grave face it was hairpins.

She raised a bright eyebrow at him, making him roll his eyes. "Yes, yes. Thomas won't say a word. He knows better."

"Does he, now?" The blonde-haired girl said, but now a playful glint shone in her eyes, despite her flat tone. Her voice matched her looks. Grace was beautiful like a statue, even in her shadow hunting equipment. It contracted her pale features, highlighted her braided silver-like hair and fair skin. It also made her look deadlier. Alastair imagined Grace liked this effect.

"I wouldn't have chosen a partner incapable of a simple lie," the dark-skinned man scoffed.

"Shouldn't it be concerning?"

"Did you just put into question my taste in men?"

"Maybe it's well-deserved." She indicated innocently, looking at her patrol partner.

Alastair stopped in his tracks. Then he laughed. "Fair," he conceded with a grin that took over her face as well. The sunset gleamed in the sky, washing them in gold as they made their way in London's streets. "But Thomas is different."

Her smile softened around the edges. "I know."

Grace, as Kamala did, knew of his past with Charles. It was quite incongruous to have all Charles's former partners under the same roof, on friendly terms. Alastair and grace's sort of comradeship was different from others, too; it wasn't the same way it was as smooth as with Christopher, as easy as with Kamala. It was their own, and Alastair liked it. It took them a long way to reach where they were now.

At first, he resented her, for she was betrothed to the man he loved. Later, after he broke up with Charles, he was grateful. She was the reason he broke from the chains that bound him to Charles, albeit unintentionally. A small part of him threatened to be profoundly sorrowful as well. Charles would never love her. He couldn't love anyone the way they deserved. He also knew that the 16 years old girl did not love Charles in any way. He was a tool. A reprieve from her mother and her demands. They both used each other, and Alastair supposed it was only fit.

Subsequently, when he heard of the agony she caused his sister, he was furious. His heart throbbed with wrath, and it bled because his own sister's heart shattered mercilessly.  Alastair had always gotten easily riled. Nonetheless, the vast loathing he held against Grace threatened to swallow him whole. He despised her for hurting his sister so badly, and he saw red. He couldn't comprehend what made her turn her blade of ice toward his sister, and it didn't matter. He'd have thrown her into the Thames without a second thought.

Until he heard Grace's story.

Cordelia was an unfortunate soul involved with Tatian's games, along with James, and Grace herself. She told her story in front of the inquisitor and Consul, holding the mortal sword in her hands. She was not innocent, but none of them were. They all carried a weight on their backs that no one else saw. And Grace's was a heavy burden.

He got the full details from Charles, funnily enough. The upbringing of Grace, her brother's death, her mother immersing in dark magic to resurrect her son. He knew it all before, yet he merely didn't believe Tatiana went so deep into bringing her son back to life. He didn't know how she hurt Grace in the process.

Grace did plenty of wrongs to hurt their families, Alastair learned. She wanted to bring back the only person that truly cared for her. She wanted to be a dutiful daughter to her adoptive mother. That was something he could understand. Seeking the approval of your parent, the one who should take care of you and love you unconditionally. In Grace's haunted look, he saw himself - same as his father was whispering in his ear even after he was gone, so was Tatiana whispering to Grace in the shadows.

His anger drifted away eventually as he discerned the wounds on Grace's heart. Everyone knew at this point. She was barefoot in front of the whole London enclave. Her whole story, plain in front of everyone to assess. He was there before, and he could only guess how much Grace struggled all by herself.

He had ones too, those invisible wounds. He worked days and nights to conceal for so long. And somewhere in the back of his mind, as he looked at Grace when he first approached her months ago, he realized there might be a Grace worth knowing beyond the layer of thorns she built to hide the cracks.

He was glad he had been proven right.

Alastair threw his hand in the air in front of him. "For the record, Thomas kept the secret of James and Lucie being Belial's grandchildren for months. I'm sure he can handle a-"

"Wait," the fair-skinned lifted a hand and came to a halt. The dark-haired man stopped as well, tensing and reaching to his seraph blade, vigilant for anything out of place in the bustle of the city. "I think I heard something."

The sun already disappeared behind the buildings, indicating demons would emerge from their hide soon. They had night vision and flexibility runes, along with stamina runes and other runes they drew on each other, enhancing their natural abilities. They were capable of handling demons if they emerged from the darkness.

"Alright," Alastair whispered, barely above a whisper. "We'll cast around for anything out of the usual. Stick to the streetlamps, and-"

He was cut short by a high-pitched shriek. But it wasn't just one.

Following it came dozen more shrills, approaching them from all sides, surrounding them.

~~~*~~~

"Demons!"

As dusk fell, in a matter of seconds, they were cornered by demons. As if they were poised to ensnare them, the same as a snake waits patiently for its meal to come closer before striking.

Grace drew her dagger out, swiftly calculating their circumstances. A flock of nasty-looking Dahak demons snarled at them, approaching with every passing moment. Their legs, long and octopus-like, moved against the ground with an irritating sound. Their faces, or what the fair-haired girl assumed were their face, were ghastly and bloated and made her feel qualmish. Eyes, dark as the Thames at night, flashed at them viciously.

"This is London, never boring," Alastair murmured by her side, weapon in his hand.

She charged forward. A demon launched at her with a loud screech. She swerved to the side and threw her knife. It was almost too fast to capture the way it flew in the air and struck the demon's right eye. The runes carved into the dagger did their job, and with a screech, the Dahak demon collapsed on the floor. A malodorous aroma reeked from its body, and Grace gagged in disgust.

Alastair was in a fighting stance and hurled daggers in the air. Each demon had a tough skin, of a sick color of dirt and saffron. Some of the daggers did hit their aim, yet many merely scattered on the ground with a thud, leaving the demons with nothing but a scratch.

They slithered on the cold stones, drawing closer, sizzling around them. She seized her seraph blade. With a hurried voice, she activated the weapon. "Harut!"

She had heard Alastair doing the same, but she was consumed by the pounding of her heart and the Dahak demon that launched at her. His sharp teeth were visible as he growled at her, and she dived into the battle.

"How is it possible they got so close without our notice?" Alastar gritted his teeth, his seraph blade poking from the other side of a demon he just slew.

"There must be a nest somewhere by," Grace hissed, her eyes darting back and forth between the demonic creatures. They were ridiculously outnumbered. On every demon she killed, two more appeared.

They weren't chasing down demons. The demons were chasing them.

This breed of demons was foolish, yet they were aggressive and defensive. She didn't know how long they could last. She stood her ground, though, clenched her fists around her seraph blade. Adrenaline washed over her body. The demons stank from death and malice as ichor spilled on the pavement and her clothes. Their quantity seems to have diminished, at last, but all she could hear was the buzz of battle and the blood in her ears, and after she finished off another Dahak demon, she risked a glance at Alastair.

A demon hovered on top of her dark-skinned friend, its shark-like teeth perilously close to the half-Persian's face. Its octopus legs were wrapped around his waist, pinning Alastair to the ground. The one thing that prevented Alastair from being this demon's meal was the spear he held in front of his face.

She heard herself call Alastair's name. She turned, ready to help her friend before she felt something brought on her feet. As she looked down, startled, she found a sucker-bearing arm tangled around her ankle. The demon jumped on her. In pure instinct, she stuck her seraph blade into its mouth, leveling eyes with the demon. Still, she had no time making sure she was the last view it saw before it vanished from this realm. She pushed its body, bleeding and promptly dead, away from her. Her weapon shut off shortly after, being drawn in too much demon blood. She tossed it aside.

She moved her ankle, deeming there'd be a bruise left from the demon's grip. But she was alright, and when she realized she was alright, her mind immediately turned back to Alastair.

Her head swept to her friend, running in his direction. The demon tried to strangle him, she perceived, its legs firmly tightening around Alastair's neck. Alastair, with a strident growl, pressed his spear with all his enhanced Shadowhunter might against the demon. It seemed to work, but it was foolish of Grace to hope. The demonic creature closed its sharp teeth and with a crack! the spear was broken into two pieces.

The young Shadohunter girl moved like the wind. She pulled out a knife and it flung through the air, right before another demon blocked her view. She withdrew from the demon and Alastair and yelled the name of another angel. Even as she battled the demon, she grinned when she heard the knife sink into a less-thick part of the demon's skin. Not Alastair alone was good at aiming.

Screeching in pain, the demon's grip loosed around Alastair's body, and the brown-eyed boy took his chance, narrowingly avoiding a fate similar to many young Shdowhunters. He reached a broken part of his spear on the floor, the one that carried the blade. He yielded the broken spear like a knife, gashing at the demon's eyes with force. As the demon's attention was elsewhere, he grabbed the closest weaponry scattered on the ground- one of his runed daggers.

Grace hissed as the demon she fought got too close, almost biting her head off her shoulders. She finished it off with a raged cry and hurried to Alastair's position on the ground. Blood spilled on the street, a black viscous ichor that stunted the pavement.  Alastair kicked off the corpse, heaving. It was a burdensome task when the Dahak's octopus-like legs were intertwisted around his limbs and neck.

She managed to let out of her throat a comment as he struggled to his feet. His clothes were torn and dirty, and he seemed out of breath, same as she. "Well done for not being devoured by a demon."

"Are you for real?" Alastair groaned, "To affront your fellow Nephilim on the battlefield?"

Grace yelled in return as she took a new seraph blade out of her weapon belt, offended, "IT WAS AN HEARTFELT COMPLIMENT!"

It wasn't until another few minutes that the world paced down slowly. When she noticed the Dahak demon advancing toward Alastair from behind while he fought off two of its sickening-looking siblings. She could feel the wind blowing softly on her face, see the look of horror on Alastair's face, hear the screech of the Dahak demon as she placed herself without hesitation between the creature and Alastair.

Grace didn't know what happened past that point. Her world faded to black, and all she felt was a stinging pain in her abdomen and the ice-cold pavement.

Then she felt nothing.

~~~*~~~

A/N: I wanted to explore their relationship a bit because clearly Alastair & Grace wouldn't immediately become good friends. So even if they're on friendly terms here, there's still some tension left! It's interesting to me sorry if it's a boring chapter. It's not my best work but It'll do for now. T^T

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed!): @ary-es @writeordie-4 @justanormaldemon @life-through-the-eyes-of @hidethebreakables @tessherongraystairs @merry-esfandimas @take-the-train @pink-party-dino <3 @wagnerthedragon you asked to be tagged but it's just nonsense I'm sorry it's like an introduction to the next part.