the mortal instruments: the central science (3/?)
title: the central science (3/?)
fandom: the mortal instruments
pairings: alec/isabelle, alec/magnus, mentions of jace/clary
rating/words: pg-13/~1,100
warnings: incest, future!fic/AU
summary: Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception
Astatine: (At) 85
Produced by radioactive decay but, on account of its half life, is only found in minute amounts. Currently the rarest naturally-occurring element.
:::
Magnus decides, in the end, not to inform Alec of his decision to observe the first interrogation of the suspect Isabelle Lightwood.
He is not completely sure, but something tells him Alec would throw a fit.
The girl is calm, calmer then he would suspect, as she sits in the middle of her cot, legs folded in the-what do the mundane call it?-pretzel style. She faces the viewing window. There's fire in her eyes.
Her interrogator is a young man named Robert Longfellow. He's two years older than Alec and apparently his correct title is Captain Longfellow (which sounds to Magnus like the name of a terrible mixed drink) , as he is just under Alec in rank. Magnus did his fair share of poking around in the Council's files and suspects that Alec had something to do with the appointment of the Captain to his sister's case. In normal cases of being prosecuted by the Council, the Inquisitor was, by ex officio, the head investigator on the case. But, as Magnus and Alec knew all too well, the Inquisitor was hardly ever sympathetic to the suspect at hand. Longfellow seems honest enough and decidedly unbiased, though, in the end, Magnus wouldn't put it past him to use some dirt tactics on a suspect.
Magnus lurks in the vestibule, leaning against the far wall as Longfellow sits in a chair in front of the viewing window. The vestibule has been charmed, courtesy of Magnus himself, so that whenever Longfellow had his hands resting on that particular desk, anything he said would be projected into the holding cell. The cell had been charmed as well, long before Isabelle's arrival, by Ragnor Fell, as it so happened. He did a lot of work for the Council before his departure. (Magnus never likes to call it murder. Murder is an ugly word.) A large scroll sat in the farthest corner of the room, words etched across its surface from a mysterious hand. The particular charm worked much like a mundane sound recorder. Anything that was ever said in the holding cell was transcribed on the scroll and was could be erased after a particular case was finished. Ragnor had headed up the project on that one. The viewing window was enchanted too, working as a video camera of sorts as it could become a screen and allow the viewer to rewind the reel of the proceedings in the cell. Hell, Ragnor had more or less designed that one single handedly. Such a shame he wasn't around anymore. Magnus supposed he'd be quite helpful in the Lightwood siblings' current predicament.
Longfellow leans forward, brushing a few brown curls out of his eyes before clearing his throat and beginning.
"Ms. Lightwood."
Isabelle's back straightens at the call, her hands balling into fists as she stares directly at the window, though all she can see is her own reflection. Magnus tapped the wall behind him, muttering a few words to ensure that Longfellow's voice was projected into the room a bit too loudly. "Yes?" She calls back, trying as hard as she can to come off as surly rather than frightened.
"Isabelle Jane Lightwood, You have been arrested on the charge of the murder of Damien Woodbarrow, a man of Nephilim descent and a registered Shadowhunter. The Council long ago instated rules governing the prosecution of Nephilim. Are you aware of these rules?"
She answers back just as loudly. "Yes."
"We are allowed to keep you for thirty days. During this time, you will be interviewed by myself, Captain Robert Longfellow, and other members of the Council Investigative Services and we will gather evidence to be used in the case against you. As a member of the Nephilim, you are not appointed council, as our sympathies are with you. At the end of these thirty days, you will be held at trial. You will be judged by the Inquisitor, and the Lilithian, Lunar, Nocturne, and Seelious council members. They will come to a conclusion and this conclusion will be final. Do you understand?"
"Didn't just say that I understood? Don't treat me like I didn't grow up in this culture. I know the law just as well as you." She speaks to her own wide eyes and pale face, mirrored in the window. Magnus can see that she's gritting her teeth. More than anything, she hates being patronized.
"Of course, Ms. Lightwood. Is there anything you'd like to request before I go?"
A small grin flickers on her face, her hands relax, and her jaw loosens. "As I said when I was admitted, I'd like to speak to my brother."
Anger, unexplainable anger, flares up in Magnus's chest- blinding and white hot. He strides forward and pushes Longfellow's arms off the table; ignore the other man's protest as he sets his own palms flat against the wood. 'That will be all, Ms. Lightwood. Goodnight." Her forehead wrinkles as she recognizes his voice and he can see her mouth form his name, her head tilting sideways in confusion.
"Let's go." He barks at Longfellow as he strides towards the door, with every step his rage growing stronger and stronger till he thinks he just might break. "We're done here."
"But, Councilman Bane, I was given instructions to-" Longfellow babbles, his eyes (brown. Like hers. Muddy and disgusting.) widening in confusion.
"And I, enforcing my superior status as Councilmen, am over riding those instructions. You are finished here." Magnus yanks open the door and steps out into the hallway, but soon doubles back to poke his head in. "Raise the temperature in the cell by ten degrees."
"Councilman-" Longfellow begins to voice another protest but the words die in his throat as Magnus glares. "Alright. It will be adjusted by tomorrow morning."
Magnus can feel a grin spreading across his face, though he fights to keep it contained. He never thought of himself as a vengeful person. Maybe he was wrong all along. "Thank you for your cooperation, Captain. I'll be sure to put in a good word at the next Council meeting." He exits the room and strides down the hall, hearing Longfellow leave after him and shut the door.
Isabelle is left in the company of no one but her own reflection.
next chapter
fandom: the mortal instruments
pairings: alec/isabelle, alec/magnus, mentions of jace/clary
rating/words: pg-13/~1,100
warnings: incest, future!fic/AU
summary: Science is messy. Elements reject each other. Things combust and fall apart. Life is a science, and therefore no exception
Astatine: (At) 85
Produced by radioactive decay but, on account of its half life, is only found in minute amounts. Currently the rarest naturally-occurring element.
:::
Magnus decides, in the end, not to inform Alec of his decision to observe the first interrogation of the suspect Isabelle Lightwood.
He is not completely sure, but something tells him Alec would throw a fit.
The girl is calm, calmer then he would suspect, as she sits in the middle of her cot, legs folded in the-what do the mundane call it?-pretzel style. She faces the viewing window. There's fire in her eyes.
Her interrogator is a young man named Robert Longfellow. He's two years older than Alec and apparently his correct title is Captain Longfellow (which sounds to Magnus like the name of a terrible mixed drink) , as he is just under Alec in rank. Magnus did his fair share of poking around in the Council's files and suspects that Alec had something to do with the appointment of the Captain to his sister's case. In normal cases of being prosecuted by the Council, the Inquisitor was, by ex officio, the head investigator on the case. But, as Magnus and Alec knew all too well, the Inquisitor was hardly ever sympathetic to the suspect at hand. Longfellow seems honest enough and decidedly unbiased, though, in the end, Magnus wouldn't put it past him to use some dirt tactics on a suspect.
Magnus lurks in the vestibule, leaning against the far wall as Longfellow sits in a chair in front of the viewing window. The vestibule has been charmed, courtesy of Magnus himself, so that whenever Longfellow had his hands resting on that particular desk, anything he said would be projected into the holding cell. The cell had been charmed as well, long before Isabelle's arrival, by Ragnor Fell, as it so happened. He did a lot of work for the Council before his departure. (Magnus never likes to call it murder. Murder is an ugly word.) A large scroll sat in the farthest corner of the room, words etched across its surface from a mysterious hand. The particular charm worked much like a mundane sound recorder. Anything that was ever said in the holding cell was transcribed on the scroll and was could be erased after a particular case was finished. Ragnor had headed up the project on that one. The viewing window was enchanted too, working as a video camera of sorts as it could become a screen and allow the viewer to rewind the reel of the proceedings in the cell. Hell, Ragnor had more or less designed that one single handedly. Such a shame he wasn't around anymore. Magnus supposed he'd be quite helpful in the Lightwood siblings' current predicament.
Longfellow leans forward, brushing a few brown curls out of his eyes before clearing his throat and beginning.
"Ms. Lightwood."
Isabelle's back straightens at the call, her hands balling into fists as she stares directly at the window, though all she can see is her own reflection. Magnus tapped the wall behind him, muttering a few words to ensure that Longfellow's voice was projected into the room a bit too loudly. "Yes?" She calls back, trying as hard as she can to come off as surly rather than frightened.
"Isabelle Jane Lightwood, You have been arrested on the charge of the murder of Damien Woodbarrow, a man of Nephilim descent and a registered Shadowhunter. The Council long ago instated rules governing the prosecution of Nephilim. Are you aware of these rules?"
She answers back just as loudly. "Yes."
"We are allowed to keep you for thirty days. During this time, you will be interviewed by myself, Captain Robert Longfellow, and other members of the Council Investigative Services and we will gather evidence to be used in the case against you. As a member of the Nephilim, you are not appointed council, as our sympathies are with you. At the end of these thirty days, you will be held at trial. You will be judged by the Inquisitor, and the Lilithian, Lunar, Nocturne, and Seelious council members. They will come to a conclusion and this conclusion will be final. Do you understand?"
"Didn't just say that I understood? Don't treat me like I didn't grow up in this culture. I know the law just as well as you." She speaks to her own wide eyes and pale face, mirrored in the window. Magnus can see that she's gritting her teeth. More than anything, she hates being patronized.
"Of course, Ms. Lightwood. Is there anything you'd like to request before I go?"
A small grin flickers on her face, her hands relax, and her jaw loosens. "As I said when I was admitted, I'd like to speak to my brother."
Anger, unexplainable anger, flares up in Magnus's chest- blinding and white hot. He strides forward and pushes Longfellow's arms off the table; ignore the other man's protest as he sets his own palms flat against the wood. 'That will be all, Ms. Lightwood. Goodnight." Her forehead wrinkles as she recognizes his voice and he can see her mouth form his name, her head tilting sideways in confusion.
"Let's go." He barks at Longfellow as he strides towards the door, with every step his rage growing stronger and stronger till he thinks he just might break. "We're done here."
"But, Councilman Bane, I was given instructions to-" Longfellow babbles, his eyes (brown. Like hers. Muddy and disgusting.) widening in confusion.
"And I, enforcing my superior status as Councilmen, am over riding those instructions. You are finished here." Magnus yanks open the door and steps out into the hallway, but soon doubles back to poke his head in. "Raise the temperature in the cell by ten degrees."
"Councilman-" Longfellow begins to voice another protest but the words die in his throat as Magnus glares. "Alright. It will be adjusted by tomorrow morning."
Magnus can feel a grin spreading across his face, though he fights to keep it contained. He never thought of himself as a vengeful person. Maybe he was wrong all along. "Thank you for your cooperation, Captain. I'll be sure to put in a good word at the next Council meeting." He exits the room and strides down the hall, hearing Longfellow leave after him and shut the door.
Isabelle is left in the company of no one but her own reflection.
next chapter