Overwhelmed [3] 《SHADOWHUNTERS》

Chapter Twenty-Three

Alec and Magnus were quite on edge at Andina's exposed bedside within the infirmary. Emergent patients were often forced to be in view of anyone that could walk into the large main room. To the men's luck, the only company that was forced upon them was that of the two on-duty medics that rustled around the island of supplies towards the end of the open space. The Nephilim trained in the arts of healing struggled to locate their backup supply of O negative blood, as well as the chart of the woman that had been in the hands of their infirmary many times throughout her anarchic life.

The Lightwood that watched over Andina from a stiff, plastic chair could not contain the energy that urged on the nervous bounce of his leg. His eyes swept between the injured and the warlock that held the same anxieties at the pace of a clock's second-hand. Magnus couldn't help but question to himself how Alec could have possibly gotten this far through his life completing so many stealth missions; the Shadowhunter's taught expression was the epitome of guilt as the warlock remained stiff in front of a heavy blood bag that hung from a vintage metal IV stand. Magnus tried to block the view of the substance that drained into the pale, unconscious figure from anyone that might glance to her bedside. Alec's awfully quiet suggestion that Magnus should try to be quicker was met with an aggravated pierce of the warlock's brown eyes.

"I will hurry as soon as I'm able to," the whispered snap of his partner urged Alec to soften his haste. They had the same goal as their hearts beat a rapid pace against the confines of their skin. There was validation within their hope that Andina would recover now that she was under the observation of genuine professionals that didn't despise the advances of science simply because some mundanes may have been involved with its greatest discoveries. 

But that didn't dissipate the risk of being caught and charged with a not-yet-invented crime as they slipped angelic blood into the steady, dark red stream. The ugly gash within Andy's arm found the temporary gauze to be bothersome as it became stained just as harshly as the wrinkled cloth tourniquet that pressed into her skin just above it. Clary had done the best that she could to seal off the gateway of vessels presented in the torn artery, but the stream had still poured enough throughout Andina's attempted rescue to stain all of those that had aided her.

Even the tile beneath them held splotches, smeared by the shoes of medics and the two that hovered over her. It made it difficult for Alec to find any sight that didn't make his funneling train of thought worse. A clipboard clattered against the stone island across the room, smacking against a few glass containers of dried leaves. The Lightwood's gaze flicked to the source and he wrung his hands together in frustration as the one medic just avoided looking at them to turn around for a tool that was an afterthought to the rest. Magnus' stiff composure would surely give them away if the others took note of it, already suspicious as to why the High Warlock of Brooklyn had remained by one of their Shadowhunter's bedsides. "You're doing very well at seeming casual," Alec's acrid recommendation that the warlock relax himself – at least, visibly – was taken stringently, as one should have expected. The couple had found, especially in recent weeks, that their matched tension clashed more often than it lent itself to solutions.

The glare that Magnus seared into Alec told him that it was not the time for his contempt to reveal itself, even if their troubles may have warranted it. The warlock dared to glance over his shoulder and was relieved to finally find that the vial he had connected into the glossy line was draining its last, thick, rusted drops. Alec's agitation grew as the difference in color in a chunk of the plastic tube was obvious to any onlooker. The evidence of their tampering hardly flushed away when the molasses stream of the normal bag of blood was unleashed by the warlock to carry on as intended. Magnus hurriedly unscrewed the glass vial that he had snagged from his apartment and let it fall down, caught silently within the soft lining of his sleeve. It was not uncommon for the pretentious guards of the building to insist upon a pat-down before a Downworlder was allowed to leave.