Murder Me Not

It's (Not) Okay

This part was really hard for me to write and shorter than the other chapters. I hope quality makes up for the lack of quantity. Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!!

"It's nice to see you, Alec," Jordan greeted, brushing long strands of brown hair out of his face. He sat in a pristine, dark suit, his laptop poised on his lap, dark eyes scanned Alec, his fingers clattering against the keys. Alec had shown up a half hour late. Jordan didn't seem to mind, he was probably surprised that Alec showed up at all.

Alec massaged his palm, his nails biting. "My file is missing," he said curtly. "Why did you have a physical file if everything is on your computer?"

Jordan sighed. "We have physical files on everyone, backups of sorts."

Alec's eyes flitted around the room. The walls were adorned in reassuring quotes and Jordan's qualifications. Light poured in from the skylight, a soft fan whirring in the corner. The rug beneath his feet was a dull grey, a shade lighter than his shirt. "How were they able to get my file?"

"We already filled out a report for the police. I didn't realize that break-ins and theft was your division," Jordan quipped.

Alec grunted. "I might not have a division soon," he muttered bitterly.

Jordan made a noise in the back of his throat. "Maia told me about your resignation. Why don't you explain why you need to quit?"

Alec slumped further into the plush couch, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes trained on the clock, watching as seconds slowly went by. "I'm just... I'm tired."

"Tired of what?"

"Everything," he said thickly, realizing right then how true that word was.

Jordan's lips subtly turned downward. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

Alec stared at his hands, watching as his nails formed crescent moons in his palms. How long? Long enough that Alec couldn't remember what it was like to be truly awake? When had he last felt alive?

That last one had an easy answer; when Magnus's lips were pressed against his own, when the warmth of his body penetrated Alec's clothes and made him feel safe. They had last seen each other a few nights ago, the night of the bridge. A shiver slid down Alec's spine at the thought of Magnus—his boyfriend—standing on the metal railing.

He felt awake when bullets were flying past him, when sweat created trails down his face, the sounds of a raging war ringing in his ears. When the cold-calm of a soldier filled him, pushing aside any other instinct of humanity that wasn't directly related to survival.

He knew that wasn't what Jordan meant.

His head was a mess full of chopped up dreams and red memories. His mind was a monster, fighting against him as he walked through life. He didn't know what to call it, the feeling in his stomach. He just knew it wasn't supposed to be there.

Much like how he wasn't supposed to be here, in Jordan's dreary office. He didn't need help. He needed purpose. And the police force wasn't enough.

He didn't think anything would be.

And it terrified him.

"Alec?" Jordan prodded gently.

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I asked how long you've felt tired?" Jordan's voice was quiet, patient, tinted with an accent that must have driven Maia mad.

He shrugged helplessly. "Long enough."

"That isn't an answer."

He shrugged again. "I don't know."