Malec Shorts

Soldier, Keep on Marching (Malec AU)

The soldier and the general didn't know that the boy had been saved, saved in the few seconds it had taken them to walk down from the roof. He had been saved by a boy not much older than he was, a boy with green eyes with yellow speckles, and dark, dark, spiky hair. Little did they know that Alexander Lightwood would be coming back, and this time, he wouldn't be alone.

...

Magnus had no idea what this boy had done to the U.S Army, but they obviously wanted him dead. Either that, or they had mistaken him for someone else, but that was highly unlikely.

No matter the case, Magnus had fixed the boy up to the best of his ability, and now he was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee, waiting for him to wake. The boy was laying in his bed. Magnus had put him there. And it was torture waiting for him to wake up. And it didn't help that he was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen. With his black hair, his skin the perfect shade, he looked so vulnerable as he slept, but Magnus knew he couldn't be. Anyone the Army wanted dead couldn't be anything less than strong.

It had started pouring outside, the rain blowing against his windows sharply, too loud to be peaceful. Magnus sighed, placing his coffee mug down on the coffee table. He stood up, walked to his bedroom door, and opened it slowly.

The boy was no longer asleep. His eyes were wide open. And they were... blue. Crystal blue. Bluer than any blue Magnus had ever seen. Magnus sucked in a breath.

"Who are you? Where am I?" The boy asked, already throwing the dark red covers off of him, trying to sit up fully, but he groaned and ended up leaning against the headboard.

He looked like he could kill Magnus with his bare hands if he wasn't injured.

Magnus raised his hands. "I won't hurt you. I only want to help."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so when you couldn't fight back, when you were already dying." Magnus paused; the boy stared at him. "So," Magnus asked quietly, as if he were talking to a wild animal he didn't want to attack him or run away. "What's your name?"

There was a silence before he said, "Alec. Alec Lightwood." Alec. Such a nice name.

"Is that short for Alexander?"

He nodded.

"Okay Alec, well, you don't have to, but I think you should stay here for a while. I took the bullet out, but you're injured pretty badly. It might take a while to heal."

"No, no. I-I can't put you in danger. They'll find me, they'll find me and kill us both."

Magnus pursed his lips, thinking of what to say. He didn't want the boy to leave. He didn't want him to get hurt. What was the point of saving someone if they only died a few days later?

"Let them come." He said, determined. "And when they do, we'll be ready."

...

The soldier took a bite of the plain, butter-less mashed potatoes they were serving in the mesh hall. He was one of the only people at his table who wasn't talking. Everyone else was chattering excitedly about the mission they had just been assigned.

"Lot 39, you leave in three days." The general told them. "The rest of you will continue in your training."

That was his lot. Thirty-nine. The boy they were assigned to find and bring in, alive or dead, had been in lot forty. Alexander Lightwood, their best soldier. Until he lead his lot into enemy territory and left them to be captured, forming an alliance with the leader, and watching as his entire lot burned to death. Lot forty's table in the mesh hall was the only one where no one sat at. It was empty, completely empty. The soldier remembered when his best friend had sat at that table, how he would lean over and whisper dad jokes in the soldier's ear.