#tmi fandom

Simon: *stubs toe on chair*

Fandom: *breaks chair*

Fandom: *hacks chair into sawdust*

Photo by me

Simon x Billy

Chapter 11: Whatever you say, Ma

AN: Just a teeny little drabble to enjoy while we wait for chapter 12. Photo: @firstpersonnarrator

While Billy is sleeping off his drowned sorrows in his time zone, Simon has time traveled back 6 hours, to Brooklyn. He gets to live the same 6 hours twice. That’s just how it works. So sci-fi.

He has been summoned (peer pressured) back to Brooklyn by his agent for a terribly important meeting requiring a suit. That’s all he knows about it: Wear a suit. Done. He’s wearing a suit. He’s never even seen Johnny in a suit, let alone wearing one with him.

It’s this morning all over again, and Simon is rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It’s official, Italians do coffee better.

——-/-/——-

Masterlist | Start: Ch 1 | Prev: Ch 10 | Next: Ch 12 | Read it on ao3

——-/-/——-

Chapter 11: Whatever you say, Ma

——-/Simon/——-

“Simon, I don’t like that Johnny.”

“I know, Ma.”

“He looks like a sheister, that boy. He does not have a trustworthy face. No. He does not.”

“I know, Ma.”

“Well if you know, Simon, why don’t you go find a more trustworthy-looking agent?”

“Ok, Ma. Where are the Eggos?”

“Why am I stocking Eggos when you’re not living here anymore? Pish. Go stock ‘em for yourself over at that schmancy apartment of yours.”

“Ok, Ma. You’re right.”

She’s turned her ‘you don’t have a trustworthy face’ face on me. 

“What, Ma. What? Please stop giving me the stink eye. It’s scary looking and definitely unfriendly.”

“You want I should be your friend now.”

I search madly for the right answer to that question. 

“You want I should go to Katz’s? Yonah Schimmel? No! Wait! Ma, I will buy you an island if you make your matzoh ball soup.” 

I am a genius. 

That should keep her busy for well over 24 hours. It takes time to boil a chicken down to nothing but golden goodness. As Grandma used to say, ‘It took a day to build Rome, it takes more than that to make chicken soup.’

That should keep her happy and friendly for at least as many days as the soup lasts, and then some. And it’ll give me some fat to run off. Sometimes I don’t eat enough to sate the running addiction. It is what it is.

Title says it all. Just because I needed to see some Cohort ass get kicked. My kind of therapy. Characters based on Cassandra Clare’s (TSC) though I created one for the plot. Three years after TDA.

The two following days passed in a blur. Kit was returning to his bedroom after training one evening when he saw a package left on his bed. He opened it and emptied the content on his desk. There was a folded note and a necklace. Kit felt a jolt of uneasiness as he recognized instantly the whitish-green pendant with the Chinese characters carved into it. Even though he had only learnt a few Chinese words from Jem, and didn’t know how to read them, he knew exactly what the characters meant. When two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze.

It was the pendant Jem had offered Tessa over a hundred years ago, when he had proposed.

With a growing sense of dread, Kit opened the folded note and read. We hold someone you love. If you want to see her again, meet us at the following address. Alone. If you warn the Clave or anyone at the Institute, we will know. And what you’ll find there will be her dead body. The address printed at the bottom of the note seemed to be in a residential area, a 30 minutes’ walk from the Institute.

A flash of memories went through Kit’s head. Tessa smiling indulgently at him as he made yet another one of his bad jokes. Their banter about books and movies. Tessa carrying a giggling Mina and staring at Jem adoringly, as he was making faces to make them laugh. Tessa singing to Mina - loud enough for Kit to hear – the song his mother used to sing to him. Well, the mother who had given birth to him. Tessa was also his mother now.

When he snapped out of his daze, he was fully dressed in Shadowhunter gear. Thankfully, he always kept weapons in his room and was now heavily armed. He didn’t pause to think as he walked to the window and started escalading straight up to the Institute’s roof. He would not go through the corridors and risk being followed by someone at the Institute. He had noticed the way the Centurions sometimes seemed to suddenly appear out of thin air when he thought he was alone.

Perched on the Institute’s roof, he felt grateful for all the training Jace had put him through. He now knew that, as much as Jace could jump from unexpected, impossible heights, so could he. He had even trained to jump out of a Malachi configuration. Theoretically. Jace had smiled conspiratorially at the time, telling him it was a talent that could always prove useful.

He drew two runes, Heightened Speed and Surefooted, sparing a glance, as he always did, at the Voyance rune at the back of his right hand. He only paused to take one deep breath before jumping from the roof and landing gracefully on the ground. He murmured a silent thanks to Jace and almost wished his mentor were there for a high five.

He made it to the location in short time, although it seemed like hours to him.

He tried to circle around the meeting point, but it appeared empty. Just when he thought about doing another round, he heard laughter coming from an alley surrounded by two brick buildings. He peered his head. No one. He started as he heard a creaking noise behind him. Spinning toward the sound with his sword raised, he saw a familiar figure standing a few feet away.

It was one of the Centurions who had been assigned to his security. The Swedish blond girl, Kiersten Lindquist. She held a finger to her lips, hushing him, and slid silently next to him.

“It’s a trap” she said low in his ear. “I have sent Anush back to the Institute for reinforcements. I’ll distract them and you run. Don’t – and I repeat it – whatever you do, don’t let yourself get caught. It’s you they want. They will not hurt me if they are still looking for you. They would want to use me as bait.”

“But– Tessa…”

“She’s fine” snapped Kiersten. Then, more gently “please don’t mess up our plan.”

Wait– Kit thought, there was a plan?

Before he could ask, a dozen Shadowhunters – and it was plain they belonged to the Cohort - were circling them. They were calling themselves the Imperishable Order, now. Same shit, different name, thought Kit.

“Hey Barbie girl” drawled one of the Cohort members. He looked very familiar. “We have no quarrel with you. We just want the Herondale Faerie-slut. Leave us be and we will not harm you.”

“Manuel. I see you haven’t changed” said Kiersten calmly. “You’re still a disgrace to the Scholomance.” She drew her longsword and shouted “NOW”.

Kit sprinted, knocking down two Cohort members on his way, disappeared around the corner of the nearest building and scrambled up its wall with a dexterity that would make both Jace and Jem proud. Up on the roof, he could see six Centurions had been dispatched to look for him. He glanced at the battle taking place beneath him and heard shouts as a newcomer joined the melee and incapacitated a Cohort member in a record time, before turning to fight two others. Kiersten was fighting two on her own.

Kit decided to check on the hunt party. Only two of them had decided to climb the stairs up to the top of the building, while the others were searching the area. Suddenly, he heard in a loud, clear voice “STOP. STOP now, put your weapons down or I SWEAR TO GOD I will cut Barbie’s throat.”

He hurried back to stand at the edge of the roof, to assess the situation below.

Kit watched as the newcomer – a tall figure wearing a Centurion uniform – took a step forward and kneeled, laying his two blades on the floor. He raised both his hands as he stood. The moon lit his face. Kit gasped. Ty. No, no, no, Ty. I am so sorry.

Manuel strode to stand behind Ty, encircling him with his arms and lifting a knife to his throat. He was almost standing on tiptoe as Ty was taller than him, and it would have been comical if not for the dreadfulness of the whole situation.

A few feet away, facing them, another Cohort member had Kiersten in a headlock.

Kit had to force himself still. His hands were clutched into fists, his entire body trembling with the urge to fight. He kept repeating Kiersten’s words in his head. They will not hurt me if they are still looking for you. They would want to use me as bait.

“Well, well, look who we have here” said a woman’s voice and Kit recognized it at once. Zara Dearborn.

“Is this… Julian Blackthorn’s younger brother? The weird one? Well, whatever they say, he is hot as hell.”

Manuel laughed. “I figured you would say this, Zara. We all know you have wet dreams about Julian Blackthorn. No shame in that. You know what they say, keep your enemies closer and all that.”

Zara spluttered. “Seriously? You really want to talk about this? How about your crush on Emma Carstairs?” And in a mimicking voice, “Oooh Emma, you have such pretty blond hair and you’re such a badass, and you have this long, beautiful sword making up for my tiny, little…”

“Let’s make a truce,” said Manuel. “When we get back to Alicante, the Blackthorn Ken here will be all yours.”

“That’s actually a great idea. The look on Emma’s face when she finds out that her little brother-in-law and I…“

“I’m sorry, Zara, but this is not happening” said Ty, in a loud, clear voice, that didn’t betray a flicker of fear although he had a knife pointed at his throat. Kit felt a surge of pride. “No offense, but psycho bitches are not my type.”

Kit could see in the distance silhouettes running in their direction. He sighed in relief. Reinforcement was coming. He jumped from the roof and landed directly behind Zara, pointing his sword in her back in almost the same motion.

Several gasps of surprise.

“You think that jump was high? I can do it in my sleep” said Kit, showing off.

He winked at Ty then, who was glancing his way, pride glittering in his eyes.

Kit knew he needed to stall until reinforcement arrived. Admittedly, the Cohort members were already doing most of the job.

“So… Manuel, I have to admit I am a bit jealous. You see, I have been fantasizing about holding Tiberius in the exact same position for years now.”

Ty, who had not betrayed a flicker of emotion until then, flushed a deep shade of red.

Manual smiled viciously. “Oh, I see. I guess all Faeries are queers.” And then, he spoke in Ty’s ear but loudly, so everyone could hear “So, who’s the bitch?”

Ty didn’t answer but looked pointedly at Zara.

“Let me translate for you, freak. Do you hump him? Or does he hump you?”

“Come now, Manuel. This is the 21st Century. Keep up” said Kit, flashing his best smile. “We believe in equal opportunities.”

“OK guys, did I miss something? did we really run into Cohort members or some hormone-crazed teenagers posing as such?” it was Barbie – sorry, Kiersten – who had just spoken.  

No one answered as this was the moment when Jace appeared out of nowhere and knocked down the person who had her in a headlock with the flat of his sword.

Kit pushed Zara away, with such force that she ended up sprawling on the floor.

He instantly turned to where Ty was standing… looking down, his foot resting on top of Manuel’s body, which was writhing on the ground. Manuel was staring at his hands, his forearms, which were covered with red rashes and blisters, his face a mask of shock. A powder substance was eating away his knife, which had somehow landed a few feet away. 

Kit saw Ty put away a small vial filled with red-purple powder, with a satisfied look on his face.

All hell broke loose.

A fleeing Cohort member was swept off his feet as a whip circled around his foot and Isabelle, looking like a warrior goddess, pulled vigorously.

An arrow lodged itself in Zara’s thigh as she tried to stand up. Alec, standing a few feet away, had already pulled a new arrow. He looked… bored.

Kit knocked down another Cohort member using only his right hook. Because, well, he could.

In a few minutes, they had rounded up the wounded and tied their hands behind their backs.

The party that had been sent to search for Kit came back to an incongruous sight.

Zara, Manuel and the other Cohort members who had remained with the Centurions were now huddled together in the middle of a circle made by Anush, Kiersten, Ty and Isabelle, who was slashing at the air with her whip as to make a point to whoever thought they could chance an escape. Kit thought she looked like a hot school teacher scolding her very, very naughty pupils.

The search party turned around, making a run for it… only to be met by Jace. He was leaning casually against the side of the wall, his arms crossed.

“Hey, guys” he drawled. “Looking for something? Your dignity, maybe?”

One of the fleers launched himself at him, weapon raised, and Jace simply ducked out of the way as he drew his own sword.

Kit sensed a movement behind him, just as he was facing another one. Glancing backward, he saw that Ty had joined him to cover his back. He felt heat – the heat of the battle, the heat of Ty's body so close to his – as they fought back-to-back, four opponents at the same time.

Alec and Jace eventually joined them, and it was almost over before it had started.

The remaining Cohort members joined their friends in the circle where Kiersten, Anush and Isabelle had remained. Isabelle had put away her whip and was staring at her nails.

Clary finally swept in, gracefully, not a single hair out of place, and started drawing a portal.

“Sorry we are late” she said, standing next to Simon who was carrying large paper bags. “We had to stop to buy us dinner.”

*****

“He remembered when he had been carrying Tavvy upstairs, once, when he'd been thirteen; he'd tripped and fallen, twisting his body around so that he would land on his back and head, not caring if he was hurt as long as Tavvy was all right. He'd cracked himself pretty hard on the head, too, but he'd sat upright fast, his mind racing: Tavvy, my baby, is he okay? It was the first time he'd thought ‘my baby’ and not ‘the baby’” (Cassandra Clare, Lady Midnight).

Simon Lewis, The Mortal Instruments