Chapter Text
Baz
I can't believe this idiot.
I cannot even begin to follow his logic. Snow is just going along with this madman's plan. Just going to give away his magic. Just like that.
For me, of all people. His enemy. It is one thing for him to come find me; it is quite another to give up his magic.
Snow is going to give up his magic.
Something in my gut turns over, and I manage to register it despite the pain of the spell. Sure my kidnapper said that he'd only take what is 'rightfully his,' but why take him at his word? He kidnapped me and is now attempting to kill me (or at least he's holding my life hostage to make Snow comply with his madness).
Meaning I'm not going to be shocked when he ends up taking all of Snow's magic. With all that power how could he resist? I doubt any mage could (especially one who is willing to take another mage's magic in the first place).
I'm looking at Simon's back. His shoulders are tense, but his stride is determined. I think he knows it too. Something in the way he was looking at me earlier. He knows what he just agreed to, and he's made up his mind.
This idiot is willing to give up his magic for me - all of it.
The thought makes me sick (it also gives me a pleasant warm feeling I'm trying to ignore). Snow is giving up his magic, but he isn't doing it out of some sort of regard he has for me. That is just the way Simon is, he'll protect anyone. In spite of how he actually feels about them (I know that better than anyone).
This is taking it a bit far, however. Hasn't he thought this through? I know I tell him he isn't the Greatest Mage, but he is the closest thing we have to one. If anyone is going to take down the Humdrum, it's him, and he can hardly do that powerless.
I'm not worth it. I can't be worth it. In the balance of the entire World of Mages, I'm outweighed. In those sorts of stakes, I come up short.
That isn't why I am in so much distress though. I'd like to say that is the reason, that I am currently thinking about the greater good and all that noble rot. But the truth of the matter is I don't want Simon to lose his magic. I know that his magic causes him pain and that he isn't very good at it, but I also know how much he loves it. I noticed how he comes alive in the first few weeks at Watford. Like he has found his reason to live again.
And I remember in first year how utterly entranced he was with everything magic. He'd even stare at me in awe whenever I did a basic You're Getting Warmer. I love magic (no one can say that I don't), but I also know I take my magic for granted.
I've never had to live without it.
Simon has, and despite that, he is willing to give it up.
For me.
It's breaking my heart. I don't care about me. I was planning on dying by Simon's hand at some point anyway. I was hoping for a little more time, but I can't let him do this.
He's essential to the World of Mages, but that isn't why I'm finding the will to crawl toward the last place I saw my wand. (I recognize the stained glass windows, we're in the same room that my kidnapper knocked me out in before).
It's because magic is essential to who he is (who we all are), and I'm not going to allow him just to throw it all away.
Over my dead body (literally, it seems).
Simon
Baz stops calling after me, and I'm glad. He needs to save his strength. I'm trying to avoid looking back at him, trying to keep all my focus on the outline walking in front of me, but it is difficult to when I can hear Baz's harsh breathing.
I can't stand it.
The outline leads me to the middle of the room, where two symbols are carved into the floorboards: a smaller eight-pointed star and a larger fourteen-pointed star. I recognize them from the Wavering Wood. From Penny and I's research into the Acciperenecron.
"Stand here," the outline tells me, pointing to the smaller star.
I do as he says.
He goes to stand in the one across from me.
I take a deep breath.
I know what's about to happen. Whatever he says, he isn't going to take a little bit of my magic, he's going to take all of it. Penny said that's what those symbols mean. From what she told me, you draw the eight-point star around the magical artifact or magical landmark, and then you draw the bigger fourteen-point star across from it and place the thing where you want to transfer the magic to.
The principle of magickal transference has always been applied to objects or places. That's how we got our magical artifacts originally — using locations where magic naturally formed and transferring it over into an object. Lately, there have been movements in the community to return the magic back to those places (we're learning about it in Politickal Science) in an attempt to counteract the Humdrum's effects, but so far, no one is willing to give up their artifacts. Or rather the Old Families aren't and since they have the majority of them there really isn't much that The Mage can do currently, though I'm sure he has a few plans in the works.
Still, when Pen and I were first looking into this, we thought that whoever was behind the missing magic was one of those in the community trying to transfer magic back to our magical landmarks. Since the symbols we found were in the Wavering Wood and other monuments around England.
Merlin were we wrong, though I doubt that anyone could have seen this coming (not even Baz clearly). To my knowledge (or to Penny's, I suppose), there has never been any record of a mage using magickal transference to steal another mage's magic. Though I guess there isn't anything really stopping it. We get our magic the same way landmarks do (from the atmosphere) so it stands to reason that our individual magic can be applied to the principle of magickal transference too. Maybe no one has ever tried because taking another mage's magic is so unethical.
It doesn't matter now anyway. I'm not going to be getting my magic back. I'm not like the outline; I don't take magic. Also, something about his desperation is eating at me. Something about the way he was speaking to me before.
"Why do you keep saying I took your magic?" I ask him.
I can't see the face he's making due to him being a magical outline, but I get the impression that he is looking at me thoughtfully. "You didn't," he says. "But you did end up with it."
"What do you mean?"
"Ask Davy," he says, then lifts his hand and points it toward the symbol.
"Who's Davy?"
I don't get an answer before our magic starts to light up the stars beneath our feet.
I feel a tug.
Baz
Neither one of them has looked over at me since Snow agreed to give up his magic. I'd be more annoyed at being unestimated if it wasn't currently working in my favor.
My wand is in the far corner of the room. That's the good news. The bad news is that it is the line of sight of the outline and Snow. Still, it is a risk I am going to have to take. I'm hoping that both will be too caught up with this magic-absorbing business to notice me crawl across the floor toward it.
Ignoring the pain in my weary limbs, I drag myself to my wand (trying to be as quiet and unnoticeable as possible). Somehow it works, and neither of them looks my way. My hand wraps around the familiar ivory (even now despite the worst pain I have ever been in pulsing through me, it soothes me). I always feel the most in control with my wand on my person. Like I can handle anything life throws my way.
Even in the face of odds like this, odds where I know I'm not getting out of here alive. I wish I had more time.
But I can't let Snow do this.
With every part of my body screaming at me, I slowly get to my feet.
Simon
The tug turns into a pull, which turns into a suck. My knee-jerk reaction is to fight it, to yank back against it. When I realize what I'm doing, I stop.
My magic burns as it slowly pours out of me. It fills the symbol I'm standing on until it overflows. White gold light scorches across the space between us until it slams into the light of the outline's magic. The gold and green mix together, and I can't look away.
Brookes
It is hard to tell at first, but I'm watching for it. I see the bits of green in Simon's white gold as his magic dances toward me. I feel it when our magicks collide. My magic recognizes itself and pulls at the missing pieces. It looks like what happens when you hover a magnet over a mixture of sand and metal. When all the green is out of the gold, I feel it. The familiar burn.
For years I'd been stealing magic to try to fill the hole mine left in me. But it isn't until this moment feeling my magic rush into me that I realize what hollow comfort the other magic had been. It isn't mine, and it feels wrong.
This feels right.
For the first time in two decades, I can breathe.
I inhale.
Baz
My feet are unsteady, I know I'm swaying, and I'm holding back a cough. Still, I'm standing, which is the crucial thing. Step one is complete, but step two is more difficult. Step two is forcing my tired mind to think of a spell. My brain just wants to focus on the pain and exhaustion I'm in, but I need it to work now.
I just need one spell.
One spell, and then I can rest.
I'm top of the class for Merlin's sake. I can do this.
I will do this.
For Simon.
It is motivation enough. I know the spell.
Simon
The colors are mixing. The white gold of my magic is getting dimmer while the green is getting brighter. I think that means my magic is being absorbed.
I thought it would hurt.
It doesn't. It sort of feels like a weight being lifted. Like the constant fire in me is becoming less intense.
Just a little bit.
I put a hand over my chest.
It doesn't feel like going out.
Not yet.
Brookes
I should pull back now. Step out of the symbol and walk away. I have my magic again. I don't need any more.
For a moment, I almost do, but then I see how bright the green is becoming. How it is starting to take on a golden hue. I wonder if I could take back some of the other's magic, and maybe then find a way to give it back to them.
Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.
Honestly, I've never felt power like this, and it is an intoxicating drug. My mind is racing, thinking of all the things I could do with power like this. I think again of that image of me on my parent's doorstep, of being too powerful to be ignored.
I stay put.
Baz
I've never seen anything like this. Some of us have the ability to see colours of magic instead of just feeling/smelling it, but it is a rare talent. Once a generation maybe.
I think Snow has it; probably, he has everything else. I didn't think I had it. I don't think I do despite the white gold (of course, Snow's would be white gold) and green colliding in front of me. I think it is just an effect of whatever the hell the outline is doing.
Whatever it is doesn't matter, what does matter is that it's distracting.
I raise my wand with a shaky hand and point it at the outline.
I put everything I have (all the magic I can muster) into a cry, "There is No Torrent Like Greed!"
Simon
I'm staring at my magic, watching as it grows dimmer. I'm starting to feel a little light-headed, even dizzy. I can't tell if it is from the light show or my magic being taken away.
Could be both, either way, I feel close to passing out.
I'm just starting to close my eyes when I hear Baz. I jerk my head around immediately to see him standing on his own power with his wand pointed at the outline.
"There is No Torrent Like Greed!" He shouts. I don't know what spell that is, so I have no time to prepare myself for the sudden, violent, flood of water appearing out of thin air. Not that there is really any need to because it misses me completely.
It smacks into the outline, overpowering him until I can't see him, then crashes into a wall.
Baz
I wasn't sure the spell would work. I didn't think I had enough energy to spare, but it worked. I stopped the ritual.
Simon still has his magic.
He's looking at me slack-jawed (mouth breather), and I smile at him genuinely for once. He's going to be okay.
Then my legs turn to jelly, and I fall.
"Baz!"
Simon
My knees slide against the rough stone floor (probably scrapping them and ripping my trousers, but I don't care), then I'm kneeling beside Baz. His eyes are closed.
Without thinking, I lift him until his head and torso are laying across my lap. "Baz," I say.
Slowly he opens his eyes, and I'm staring into pools of muted greens and blues. I don't know how I ever thought they were gray. "Simon," he says hoarsely. He's million years away from the enunciated tone he took just moments before while casting that spell.
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. He rests our hands on his chest. "Baz," I say (I can't stop saying his name). "What have you done?"
"I couldn't let you give up your magic, Simon," he whispers.
It's hard, but I'm able to tear my eyes away from him to where I last saw his kidnapper. There's a form pushed against the far wall. He isn't an outline anymore. He also isn't moving.
Cold icy fear runs down my spine. "I don't know the counterspell," I tell Baz.
"I know," he says.
"And you knocked him out, I think. Or maybe you even killed him. I don't know, Baz. Baz I don't know the counterspell." My voice is getting more and more frantic. "I don't know the counterspell. Baz I-"
"-Simon," he interrupts. "It's okay."
"What do you mean, it's okay?" I demand. "Do you know the counterspell?"
"I don't," Baz answers softly.
"Then how is this okay?" I ask. "He said you'd die in an hour without the counterspell!"
"I know," he says again.
"Then why," I start. "Why did you do it? You had to know the spell would stop the ritual. That it would knock him out at the very least."
"I did," Baz says. "I told you. I couldn't let you give up your magic, Simon."
It takes a moment to sink it. "You can't be serious."
"Deathly," he says. "Literally."
"No," I whisper, sucker-punched. "You don't mean that. You must know the counterspell."
"Simon," Baz says, gently. "I don't know the spell. I don't even know if there is a spell."
"Why?" I say, again.
"He was going to take your magic," Baz explains. "All of you magic. You and I both know it."
"So what?" I ask or maybe I demand— something in between. "I was willing to give it up if it meant saving your life."
"You had no guarantee that he would be true to his word," Baz says. "Even with A Gentleman's Word Is His Bond," he adds without magic.
"It was better than just letting you die!" I exclaim. "It was my choice!"
Baz shakes his head. "I know, but I couldn't let you go through with it. Snow you would have regretted it for the rest of your life. You know what it is like to live without magic, do you really want to go back to that?"
"I would," I say. "If it meant that you'd be alive."
Baz shuts his eyes tightly, but I can see the tears that escape. "I'm not worth it," he says, finally, still with his eyes closed.
"You are," I say. "You are worth it."
Baz
Fuck, now I'm crying. I promised myself I would never cry in front of Simon Snow.
I'm such a disappointment.
"No, Simon," I say. I can't look at him. I can't face the pain in his eyes. Pain that I am causing him, somehow.
"Yes," he says desperately. "Baz, look at me."
I can't refuse him. Not when he sounds like that. I open my eyes.
Simon looks afraid, but also determined, his blue eyes shining. "You are worth it, Baz." He swallows and it is showy like always. It almost makes me smile. "I never realized until you were gone, how much you mean to me. How essential you are."
Something in my heart soars, then shatters.
"Baz, please," Simon says. "Please, you can't die. You—you I just got you back. You have to stay with me now, please."
"Simon-" I start, but he cuts me off.
"-No," he says nearly growling. "No, you can't die. Not like this. Not ever."
"That seems a bit unrealistic," I say.
Simon just looks at me. I've never seen him like this. I've never seen him so close to falling apart.
Simon
Baz sighs. He sounds tired. His eyes are still leaking tears, but his expression is almost comforting. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
I crumple then. I pull Baz up even further until I have him completely in my arms. I'm sobbing.
Baz is using what little strength he has to rub his hands up and down my back, trying to calm me down. It won't work. I don't think I'll ever be calm again. This pain is too intense.
I can't imagine my life without Baz. He's always been there. His sneers and his taunts. His pale sugary tea. His neat Greek notes that he writes in pen because he's just that perfect.
The sound of his breathing when I'm falling asleep.
I can't lose him. I just found him.
I'm not sure how long I sit there holding Baz in my arms, both of us crying. Eventually, I hear footsteps. I look up.
Baz's kidnapper is standing in front of me. He's an older man perhaps around The Mage's age with grey in his blond hair and deep frown lines on his face.
I tense, pulling Baz closer.
"I don't mean you any harm, Mage's Heir," the man says. His voice is no longer distorted. "You kept your end of the bargain," he glances at Baz briefly. "So, I'll keep mine."
He hands me a piece of paper. I frown at him and then carefully take it.
"Cast that," he tells me. "And he'll be healed." With that, he turns on his heel and walks away.
A part of me wants to go after him. To make him pay for everything, but I have more pressing concerns.
I gently lay Baz back down on my lap. His eyes have closed again. His breathing is getting shallow.
"Baz," I say. "Did you hear that?"
He doesn't respond.
I try not to panic. I have the counterspell now. He'll be fine. I unfold the paper, then get out my wand and hover it above Baz's heart. "There's nothing you can make that can't be made. No one you can save that can't be saved." My magic courses through me pressing into every word I speak. The air around us starts to glow.
Baz's eyes are still closed.
I keep going. "Nothing you can do but you can learn to be you in time. It's easy." I'm pouring my magic into each line. Something else too. Something that—that feels an awful lot like love.
Well that is what it is, isn't it?
"All you need is love."
The air stops glowing. My heart is in my throat, and then Baz opens his eyes. "Simon?" his voice sounds steadier.
I stare at him. He looks better, not as pale. Or maybe that's wishful thinking.
"Baz?" I ask. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he says. "I feel better."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Good."
"Did you mean that?" Baz asks, sitting up and pulling away from me.
"Mean what?"
"The Beatles quote," Baz says, facing me. "The spell you just cast. Did you mean it?"
I smile. "Didn't you hear him?"
Baz tilts his head. "Hear what?"
"Your kidnapper," I say. "He called you my heart, didn't he?"
"Yes," Baz says slowly. "But as you pointed out, he kidnapped me. He also tried to take your magic, which is hardly a good indication of his character."
"So, you think he was lying?" I ask.
Baz nods. "Obviously."
Some of Baz's hair is falling into his eyes. I reach and tuck it behind his ear; then I just leave my hand there. Baz is looking increasingly more confused. "Snow?"
I'm smiling at him. "You called me Simon earlier."
"No, I didn't," Baz says.
"Why did you stop me?" I ask him instead of arguing the point further.
"Stop you from giving up your magic?" Baz clarifies.
I nod.
Baz's eyes dart away from me. I tap his cheek with my pinky fingertip until he meets my eyes again.
"Baz, why did you stop me?" I repeat.
"I," he starts, and I know that a lie or a denial is forming on his lips.
So instead of listening to it, I lean forward and press mine to his.
For a moment, just a moment, Baz is as frozen as his lips feel, then he wraps his arms around me and kisses me back.
"Baz," I murmur against his lips. "Why did you stop me?"
He pulls away and smiles at me, a bit shyly. "Because you're my heart too, Simon."
I smile back.
He kisses me first this time.
Baz
We spent far too long kissing in that bloody castle until eventually we both realized how idiotic it was to snog in medieval mage architecture when we have an entire room to ourselves back at Watford. A room that wasn't freezing cold, wet, and falling apart. So as much as I love kissing Simon Snow (and I really really love that), I also love hot showers and my bed.
Simon had wanted to go after my kidnapper when I was no longer on death's door. I said revenge could wait until after I changed clothes. I was desperate since I'd been wearing my pajamas for Merlin knows how long by that point (it was not how I pictured my first kiss going, but honestly, I'm not complaining).
Simon agreed after some aruging, and we'd set out for Watford (holding hands). It turns out we weren't actually that far away from the school. I'd cast Map Marker, and it only took us about a day and a half to reach the gates. Simon was actually a bit ticked that I had been so close.
"I could have found you sooner," he had said to me scowling.
I had kissed his cheek (I still can't believe I get to do that now). "I know, love."
When we got back, Simon went to see The Mage.
"Why?" I had asked.
"We need to find out who did this," Simon said then kissed my cheek. "I'll be back soon."
I pouted a little but nodded. I needed to shower, change, and call my family anyway.
It has been two weeks since then. At first, my family wanted to pull me out of school completely (Fiona was suspicious of The Mage). I'd argued against it, and soon enough, they let it go (not that I gave them much choice). Simon and I are dating now. I am not leaving.
Simon's talk with The Mage didn't lead anywhere either, really. The Mage said that he'd take what Simon told him to The Coven, but we haven't heard anything else since.
No one knows anything about my kidnapper. Where he came from or why he was so desperate to get Simon's magic.
I'm not concerned, honestly. Simon is, he keeps pestering The Mage for information. He says that my kidnapper needs to be brought to justice. Personally, I just want to forget the whole thing ever happened. If it were up to me, we'd have not told anyone.
It wasn't up to me, though, and I could tell it was important to Simon. He did almost lose his magic, after all. I guess he deserves justice too.
Bunce was told, of course (her and Simon have this no secrets pact, it's a bit juvenile). She's been giving us these smug looks ever since. I don't know what exactly she's so superior about, and I don't feel like asking.
Dev and Niall also wanted answers, but I didn't tell them much. Just the short version, that I was kidnapped and Snow helped me. They probably know there's more to it than that, but they're good men and won't press me about it. They're just happy I'm back.
My magic mental mind connection with Snow is gone. It went away on its own. Sometimes I'm almost tempted to have Simon cast it again (he's told me what spell he used), but then I remember how much I like my privacy. We don't need that connection anymore anyway. We're closer than ever.
Closer than I ever had reason to believe we'd ever be.
It's a dream come true, really.
Simon
Baz is reading on his bed when I come back to our room.
I lay down next to him and kiss his cheek. "Hello, my heart," I murmur. I've taken to calling Baz that lately. I don't know how I ever thought he was cold and unfeeling he always melts whenever I do.
He'll light up and smile at me. Will look a bit like he doesn't believe it until I kiss the expression off his face. He's told me now how long he's been in love with me and how hopeless it made him feel, so I know why he looks like that. I know that the idea of us together still seems like a dream to him sometimes. That he's worried that soon he'll wake up and find that I hate him again. (I don't think I ever really did hate him, though. I think I've always been a little in love with him too. Even if I hadn't realized it).
He's essential to me.
Anyway, he'll come around eventually. I know he will. I'm very persistent, and I won't rest until he does.
Until then, I'll just have to keep calling him my heart until he believes it.
Baz smiles now and leans in to kiss me. I kiss him back.
I can't say I mind.
END