Andina's eyes opened suddenly, pricked by the grit that had glued them shut in her sleep. The room was white with the presence of the sun, forcing a glare upon her worse than her typical hangovers. She hadn't rested deeply enough to trick herself into fantasy, her chest still weighed down by the smell of antiseptic that was a constant attack to her nostrils. The acrid waft of coffee long gone stale swam from the counter across the room, a barely touched paper bag alongside it.
Her attention trailed over the bodies that hadn't left, a murmured lull beside her as Simon finally succeeded in getting Isabelle to share more than urgent words. The bright hair of his best friend was thrown across an empty cushion, having slipped herself under the row of plastic arms when she could no longer fight sleep to watch over the Lightwoods. Magnus must have been summoned for more work, as Andy's sweep of the room came up empty of her warlock.
Her head fell over her right shoulder, the cut of her teeth against her cheek almost welcomed. Alec was a shadow lurking in front of the only windows they had access to. His arms were clenched against his chest so tightly that they rippled the worn fabric of the shirt that he still hadn't changed out of. The physical exhaustion they all held from the previous day was their only opportunity to pull away from the emotional pain.
Andina's lips parted, and she could not fathom why the thoughts that wrenched her heart into pieces demanded to be spoken into existence. "You were good for him," her voice was cut with the gruff edge she always had after waking, an awful masterpiece painted onto the mourning that had anchored into her soul. Alec glanced over, his brow already pinched as he watched a dismal fondness tilt up the edge of her mouth. "I don't know why I was so mad when he told me about it."
Alec's head turned to the floor tiles as he failed to hide a wince. They did not need to clarify to know they spoke of the time Jace broke the news of wanting Alec to be his parabatai to his older sibling so many years ago.
When Alec's eyes opened, they were already wet again. A reminiscent smile fought the frown on his lips, producing an awful grimace. A question he had asked himself many times before, he now understood better than the woman that posed it to him. His chin turned towards her, and he shared what he only knew from his own torture. "You weren't ready to let him go." He managed to avoid the crack of his voice, but it only offered force for hot tears to fall down his face again.
A breath escaped Andy, too smooth as acceptance turned her stomach cold. Even the atoms in the air seemed to know it as her crystal eyes met Alec's dark brown abyss. Neither of them would make it out of this room on their own feet if the inevitable struck them. Simon and Isabelle had quieted when they heard the older Nephilim conversing. They watched as their stare broke unnaturally, and they all huddled into themselves once more while the silence returned to haunt them.
°◊°
The eighteenth hour of waiting came and went as quickly as flesh scorched off of bones and rose into the air. A large many had succumbed to their wounds and the wind made a blackened path of ash brush past the narrow windows at the east end of that waiting room. It blocked out the high sun and darkened the room, disorienting Clary when she flinched herself awake in the late afternoon. The news that she was watching the new loss of life drift through the air, and not remnants of bodies from the battlefield, was an impossibly bitter taste to sit with. The sight weighed all of their shoulders down with more daring wishes for a sure answer to be given to them about their own injured soldier.
Visitation was sparsely offered, and when it was, only Andy was offered permission to enter for no more than fifteen minute bursts. She had accepted the chance in the morning and soaked stiff gauze pads in her tears. No matter how tightly she clung to her brother, his monitors would not change and she could not bring him back. It ached her, and she had turned down the two subsequent offers to step foot past that hall when the Silent Brothers only came with no updates on his health.
Night slithered in under the ashen cloud cover. Maryse had finally made the effort to locate her children, cleaned up out of her gear and begging them each to do the same. Magnus Bane attempted to hide his contempt when he entered the suddenly-bustling waiting room and discovered the sickening obsession over their appearances. Their mother did not care for them to feel more comfortable or return to the house to rest, only to get new clothing and clean their skin so they would not be judged as weak in the loss of a family member.
The High Warlock did his best to stand up for the Lightwood children's wellbeing, but the soldiers' resolve had been worn down to a stump. Only Andina was head-strong enough to ignore their mother's pleas, unable to contemplate the idea of leaving that room without knowing Jace was stable. She felt like she had left her body as she watched Isabelle and Alec be persuaded out of the room they had hardly strayed from. It felt a lot tighter within those walls for that period of time.
Maryse's scheme had only worked to keep her remaining kin in their town home for upwards of an hour, before Alec and Isabelle had run out of the front door to get back to the hospital on the other end of the city. They had hardly maintained the focus to stay as long as they had, accosted by memories and a patch of blood that had not quite been rained out of their back lawn. They shot through the cobbled streets like bullets with extra clothing for the woman they had left behind clutched in hand.
Andina had not budged in their absence, not even to reach the narrow-doored bathroom on the other end of the pale walls. Magnus sat next to her in silence, offering the Lightwoods an empathetic gaze upon their return as they took in the woman's dark eyelids. They tried to see if she had eaten, if she would eat. Had she even tried to drink a cup of water? Questions about her wellbeing bounced off of Andy's ears with a buzz. She had no strength to acknowledge them. It was Magnus that answered for her; only a few sips of water had graced her stomach after she had vomited the previous night.
Izzy ended up crouched down in front of the woman, which Andy hardly noticed until Iz grabbed at her knees gently. The broken woman's spine pinched as her sister attempted to get her to straighten up from the slouched position she had taken up each evening since they'd lost Jace. Andy fought the Lightwood girl over the notion of cleaning herself up in the sink, and eventually the exhausted family left her to herself.
Another half an hour went by before Andina really began to smell herself. The ocean still clung to her with it's hidden swells of decay and the ashen world Idris had been swept into stunk just as thick. Eventually, she relented to her crinkled up nose and asked her sister if she would help her into the sterile powder room. Isabelle was more than willing, helping her out of the chair she had become cramped into. They shuffled across the floor, and the yellow-hued light cast their shadows back into the waiting room.
Izzy closed the door just a crack, not wanting to shut out the chance to ask for assistance from her brother or Clary if needed. The motion of entering a new space seemed to have jolted Andy from her reverie of numbness, her tears sparked up again as her chest shuddered. Isabelle's face remained sullen, unable to offer her sibling any peace of mind. The young woman that had become Andy's little sister over so many years remained patient, guiding her to the shallow sink. "You can kneel or bend," Iz offered her a soft choice. It made Andina's head shake to consider the decision, so grateful that Isabelle's hand found her back.
The Lightwood girl soothed her with slow motions of her thumb, and when Andy decided to place her hands on each edge of the sink, Isabelle helped her to lower her head. Her back was a stiff arch as lukewarm water began to release her salt-stiffened strands. The girls stood in the mess that splashed out onto the floor, splattering the bottom of Izzy's grey sweats. When Andy's dark hair was heavy and her caretaker was satisfied, it was wrung out and left to chill her neck with droplets.
Izzy helped Andina back to a standing position and coaxed her into removing the soiled undershirt that had hidden beneath her discarded gear jacket. The Lightwood's touch was gentle on the shattered soul, who finally leaned into the care that she was unable to offer herself while Isabelle brushed her skin with a wad of soaked paper towels. The warm water from the faucet reminded Andy's skin that it did indeed end somewhere, and her being wasn't encompassed by the breaths and emotions of everyone in the room behind her.
A fresh loose, grey t-shirt that she knew she had stolen from one of the boys unlocked a long-buried comfort as Isabelle helped it settle against her skin. It was so worn it never needed fabric softener and never scratched at her skin. The smell of back-of-the-closet dust was home to her, when it used to be filled with sweat and mud that would never be truly washed out by the old detergents kept around the Lightwood's town home.
Andy gave in to Isabelle's guidance that she get rid of her over worn pants, the thick material of Nephilim gear still heavy with weaponry that she hadn't even been able to use. Isabelle was ignorant to the facts that echoed within the Herondale's head as a failure. She simply dug out her siblings' preferred daggers so that they could rest atop the pile of old clothing she had collected. Iz spot cleaned the dirtied cloth while Andina covered up behind her with fresh underwear, socks and clean sweats that held the warmth of their fire-stove. Izzy had even brought her deodorant and a toothbrush with a paper cup full of toothpaste – Andy was not the only one between them that found her scarce calm among the calamity in taking care of others.
There was no pressure to leave the restroom until they were ready. And Andy wasn't ready for quite a few minutes. Without the grunge to bother her senses, she had to face the absurdity of moving onward. If she had had anything in her stomach, she would have run and thrown it up again. When she did want to walk out and face the others, Izzy remained at her side for it all.
Andy chose the seat next to Alec once she had emerged, well aware that he was watching her the same way she kept looking at him. They were both black holes of despair that threatened to swallow one another. Andy didn't let Isabelle leave them, clutching the girls wrist. Iz tried not to question it, joining her on the other side as she glanced over to her brother.
"I'm not going in there again without you guys." Andy muttered, eyes falling to her lap. It sounded plain on its own, but her unnerved expression contaminated both of them. She couldn't keep them from saying goodbye, when she'd been able to do so twice. She couldn't let him go without them being there to say goodbye.
Alec found her other hand and broke his grasp into the clenched fist she held against her leg. She didn't know what she would have done if she didn't have both of their warm grasps taking up her mind.
When the next Silent Brother came in, Andina stood up. She hadn't intended to yank her family up with her, but she didn't have the strength to let go until she was three steps ahead of herself. She struggled to recognize the decrepit skin beneath those robes as Brother Zachariah, who responded to her fierce gaze as if he truly could see her through those stitched lids. "Let them come in with me." Her demand was diminished by the waver of her voice.
The Silent Brother watched on. It was not a request they could take lightly, but Brother Zachariah had always offered more empathy than the race he belonged to seemed capable of. His head moved in a nod as he projected towards them, "I will accept this demand."
It made her heart lurch into her stomach acid. She needed them with her, but she anticipated a further fight. To give into a relatives desperation did not propose a reason to maintain confidence in the patient's health. She realized she did not have the luxury of hesitation as the Silent Brother began to turn and approach that big blue daunting door that was labeled For Authorized Persons Only.
As the door was opened for them and they approached it, Isabelle and Alec realized they wouldn't be able to maintain that death-grip Andy had latched onto them if they wanted to actually pass through the narrow space. She appeared to know this, too, as she did not fight them while they slipped away.
Brother Zachariah let Andy know that the door to her brother's room was unlocked for visiting as he held the door for each member of this shattered family. A family the Silent Brother couldn't help but admire as quite large and varied, for the circumstances that had brought the lives of these Herondale children into the world. The way to the waiting room was closed off quietly, where the redheaded Fairchild still slept under the ever-bouncing gaze of a rather protective Daylighter.
It was quite dark on the way back. Andina led them so quickly to a specific door along the left wall that there was no question it housed the unconscious husk of their family member. Alec felt trapped between the desire to reach his parabatai once again and the outright fear of finding what lie beyond that doorway – Andy did not get rattled so easily by injury or the methods used to help them. He had no doubt that it was as severe as she reacted.
A small hand found Alec's shaken digits, his little sister looking up at him with an understanding that still did not shatter her own terror. Izzy asked so softly if he was all right, which was a question that needed no answer. But they all knew she did not ask to hear a lie – she wanted to know if he needed to turn back. And to turn back would be even more torturous than potentially facing the last breaths and heartbeats of his life partner. So he told her that lie in the soft bob of his head, a nod that they needed to go on and witness this for themselves.
Andina shared a burdened glance to both of those that had hovered behind her. Alec couldn't meet her eyes, so Izzy did for them both, sending the nod onwards. Andy swallowed and hated how the sound seemed to echo against the muffled machines ahead of them, but there was no use to hiding her torment any longer. Her palm met the iced metal and turned it to push open the door. She stepped inside before she had to examine either of her family's reactions. She would never get used to the sight of so much gauze across his reddened chest or the large tubes that pushed platelets desperately into his bloodstream. But she had learned to not let it stab her to a standstill.
Andy moved over to the chair that she had inhabited every quarter-of-an-hour date she had had with her brother's still form. It was the only thing she was certain of, because the gauze always looked different, the monitors always read differently, and the machines that pumped air and blood and fluids always ran at different levels that she couldn't fathom could keep intensifying.
When one walked in on Jace injured, one expected to be insulted or inundated with a dramatic, near-Shakespearean revision of the events that had led him there and why he was entirely fine and they needn't worry or make him rest however long those looking after him had claimed. Not the pumps and whirrs of a comatose individual being kept just off of death's threshold. Andy could hardly blame Izzy and Alec for the time they took to actually enter, now that they actually had control over their approach of a lost loved one. His skin was still pale as his sister's and his face had grown mottled with the painting of bruises that hadn't set before. He looked even worse than what Andy had witnessed on her last examination.
And all she could do was stare from her spot in that only certain chair. It was as far away as it was mottled in terrible acceptance. Isabelle found it unnerving, how Andina did not even reach for the one thing that she had always chased into the worst crevices of this world. The woman's hands fell to her lap and she stared, no mind paid to how Izzy and Alec paced into the room with aghast expressions. They stared at the glint of fluorescents on the tubes and their contents, just as Andy had at first. They sneered at the imprints of scuffles long before these past few days that littered what little skin of his was exposed, and how they could not know if they were from the effects of fighting for what he did not believe in or if there was further abuse hidden beyond these demonic bonds that had finally been broken. And it was all underneath the knowledge that back on that battlefield, they had still failed. Jonathon had gotten away.
Alec had drifted to the side of the bed, the weight of the door slowly dragging it closed behind them. His hand moved of its own fruition as it sought out the edge of his parabatai's worn face. Unkempt facial hair scratched at Alec's skin as he took in Jace, a red line rubbed raw underneath the line of oxygen that was run up to his nose. The Lightwood's face was unreadable, even by his little sister, as he didn't know what to feel. He knew his presence would not make a drastic difference if it had held no impact from just a room away. But some things would never rely on reason.
"I'm here," the words were torn from Alec's lips as his hand fell up to his best friend's hair, petting back the greasy strands of rust-splattered gold. He uttered it again as his other hand found the cluttered grasp of Jace's dominant hand, trying to kid himself into believing the force of his own fist was his parabatai grabbing back at him. Alec lost the shield of strength he shouldered in Jace's absence and his expression shattered into the unwilling pain of losing the most important person in his life.
Alec leaned overtop of Jace, their foreheads pressing together as he held onto him like it was the day they had first shared the vows of their bond. He could no longer withhold the barrage of hot tears that held everything they'd gone through together, everything he wished he had said or had never dared to utter. He believed he'd known what it felt to have his heart shatter, but none of those experiences seemed worth noting atop this hurt. He couldn't lose Max and Jace. He would not survive. And yet he was plunged into a flood where that could well be his reality. And he couldn't let it be the end of him, even if it felt like he could hardly breathe.
His sister's touch found the stone-tight tension in his spine as he sobbed and found the crook of Jace's neck with his face, unable to feel a thrum of a pulse that stood even the smallest candle next to how it should have sounded. Andy watched as her nose stung with refueled tears of grief. She had never seen Alec embrace her brother as he did in front of her then – long past any amount of care taken around Jace's wirings, IV's, and the breathing apparatus that had been brought in on the third night – his knuckles almost white from the pressure he tore at the bed with to prevent himself from crushing his parabatai's fragile bones.
The Silent Brother allowed them to take their time that evening. They told fractured, stained-glass goodbyes of lives that seemed much more rosey in these circumstances than they may have ever considered. They chortled past cries as their heartstrings broke over old trouble and fights between them all as children. They allowed themselves to bask in the pain of their already lost brother who would never receive a ceremony and never be sent out on their own patrols, even as they looked back on the times they had spent making sure he'd get there. And the love Jace had showed him, all of them, as the children the Lightwood's adopted began to finally escape their shells – something they never spoke of, because if it wasn't said now, it might never be able to be said.
Exhaustion wore at the trio around their injured loved one before the tears had departed, all forced to keep their eyes from slipping closed while the sun fell low outside. If Brother Zachariah had not returned at the top of the hour, they would've been asleep against the wall and finding themselves in trouble with the other medical staff who knew only Andina was meant to be back there at specific times. The Silent Brother was kind in his ushering of them back to the hall, assuring that he would let them know if another chance came after Jace was assessed for the night.
But as soon as they were shut out again, the heaviness fell back upon them. Clary had awoken and cleaned up the old food, replaced with a new stack of sandwiches that was just as likely to remain untouched. The night moved like sludge as they watched carts roll in and out of the hall that contained Nephilim and Downworlders just as starkly fated as their brother, often spilling over with bloodied bandages and empty waste bags. The plastic chairs dug into them as their brains taunted that a sure answer would allow them to breathe past this cemented cage.
°◊°◊°◊°
Day three left Andina alone in that ugly waiting room. Alec no longer had a choice to ignore responsibilities as the Clave demanded every Institute return to normal function if possible. He had had to return to the town home and start coordinating the positions of anyone left in the building they had left in New York. Isabelle had been whisked away after she volunteered to help with the overflowing mortuary services, a proper distraction found for the day in attempts of cataloguing those who had perished. Clary and Simon had offered themselves for help long before, their stops in and out of the room dwindling with every gruff response Andina managed upon their return.
Magnus had tried to extend an invitation to get her out for a breath of fresh air on the hospital's roof. He had been stuck within the building himself, busy assisting those that needed healing despite his own depletion of energy from reinforcing the temporarily Downworld-made wards . It was all on the Clave's request – which Downworlders were hardly ever in a position to ignore in times of war – to be made around the place of healing until the Iron Sisters' completed their reconstruction of Alicante's glass towers.
Their newest Inquisitor, Jia Penhallow, had also approached himself and numerous other High Warlocks with the opportunity to form a worldwide coalition of Downworld Councils, with localized sects placed in any Institutes that were willing to adopt the notion. Although his fellow High Warlocks saw through the niceties right away – hundreds to thousands of years of experience with Nephilim in power allowed them to spy the weakness behind the Clave's offer to provide a seat for them at any table.
Andina had tried to listen to Magnus when he told her this news, she truly had. It was as if someone had placed a fan on both sides of her head and set them to run at the highest speed, her constant state of stress buzzing within her eardrums. Magnus could not fault her when she did not even pretend to answer a question he had posed to her to fluff her ego about the success of their own Downworld Council. Her gaze had cast off to the dark cabinetry against the wall, the counters of which had been cluttered with the leavings of all the families that mourned their loved ones within that hall.
And so, Magnus sat with her alone, many times when he had the chance for the slightest of breaks, and offered her the silence she seemed to prefer to wrap herself in. With the space given to cry when necessary, and the shoulder at the ready for her to hide herself in afterwards.