Chapter Text
The rain was caught somewhere between a haze clinging in the air and an actual drizzle. It fogged up his windshield, but when he turned the wipers on the slight screech of rubber on not-quite wet glass made his jaw clench.
Simon was still waiting to get used to the heightened senses. Any day now. Probably.
He sighed, rolling the van to a stop at a red light. He’d dropped Clary off at the Institute after a night of fruitless inquiries into the mortal instruments. They were trying to line up some information on the mortal mirror and Simon had volunteered his services like a good boyfriend (it was that or hang around the boathouse alone, tooling around with his guitar). No one seemed to know much about the mortal mirror though.
It was funny how much shadowhunter business took place at night even now that he could walk in the daylight. It wasn’t quite daylight yet though; the sky, like the weather, caught somewhere in-between. The moon was still out, but the dark sky was streaked here and there with hints of a lighter blue. He was looking forward to the sunrise – he planned to never take them for granted again. His face was tilted up, peering through the windshield at what he could see of the horizon, when the car behind him slammed the horn.
The sound made Simon jump and bang his head on the roof of the van. “Fuck,” he hissed. Apparently—the light had changed.
He moved the van forward, shooting a glare in the rearview mirror, but the car behind him wasn’t satisfied with that, it came around to pass Simon and promptly had to stomp on the break, leaning in the horn again.
Simon rolled his eyes, blowing out a breath. He didn't see what the problem was right away, not until he leaned forward. He saw him then, a lone figure walking along the side of the road. The man was staggering drunkenly, his steps taking him by turns onto the street and the sidewalk. “Drunks in Manhattan, can we move it along people…” he muttered. It’s not like it was a rare occurrence.
The headlights from the car now in front of him lit the man’s profile for an instant and Simon did a double-take, because that – that looked like Raphael Santiago, of the clan leader for the Vampire Clan of New York City fame. Simon craned his neck back to look and the other car behind him honked.
He slowed even more though, this time letting the last car behind him pass him by as he took his time to look in the rearview mirror. That couldn’t be Raphael, it was ten minutes to sunrise. He glanced at the clock, eight minutes. It wouldn’t make sense for that to be Raphael, they weren’t even anywhere near the DuMort.
It couldn’t be him, Simon decided. His gaze went to the mirror again. There were hints of pink streaking sky. He hit the brake on the van, blew out a breath, “Shit.”
Would it hurt to double-check? What would he even do if it was Raphael? Offer him a ride? Suggest he vamp speed to the DuMort? This was not Simon’s responsibility. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. It was more likely this was someone very drunk... someone weaving in and out of oncoming traffic –
He sighed. In which case maybe Simon could call someone for them… that would be the right thing to do. And it’s not like he had to worry about being mugged – vampire strength and speed came in handy.
He was still turning it over in his mind it while he pulled the van over at a fire hydrant. Once he and Clary had had a beer each after one of his gigs and they’d been so tipsy and giggling and scared their Moms would find out they’d done nothing but talk about it – loudly, apparently. A stranger had given them a bottle of water and gum on the subway. It had felt like the kindest thing anyone had ever done for them in the entire time they’d been alive.
Simon could be that guy. He could offer a water bottle and gum, if he had gum. He could get gum –
His thoughts sputtered to a stop.
That was definitely Raphael. Raphael without a shirt on, also.
He watched him through the mirror for another beat before getting out of the van. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, he was probably the last person Raphael wanted to see right now.
Actually, he frowned, Raphael was the last person that he wanted to see right now. There had been way too many stakes present at their last meeting. He didn’t move as Raphael lurched towards him though, because this drunk-and-shirtless-at-almost-dawn thing definitely merited some kind of brief remark (and the sun, Simon thought again, what about the sun?).
Now that he was close enough Simon could see that there were scratches, gashes that weren’t healed yet, all along Raphael’s shoulders and chest and back. He prepared to say something, who looks like they’ve been hanging out with wolves? Because wolves and claws and –
But Raphael just kept walking, moving past the van and past Simon standing awkwardly by the van without so much as a glance.
Rude.
Simon pressed his lips together, this close to getting back in the van, but the sun . He sighed again. “Hey,” he called reluctantly, “Raphael, come on. I’ll uh give you ride? Okay?” He moved to follow him, “You don’t even have to tell me about your obvious night of drunken debauch – ”
Raphael whirled on him, fangs bared, and a hiss like the wind directed at Simon.
Simon reared back, “Whoa! Okay!” He snapped, lifting both arms up, “Tone down the aggression, I’m trying to save you from an ashy death – ” he retorted, pointing at the lightening sky with one of his raised hands.
Raphael’s response was to stagger back away from Simon so quickly he almost tripped, catching himself only by crouching to the ground, a hand pressed to the the sidewalk to steady himself.
Which is when Simon noticed he was barefoot.
He blinked at the sight and for a moment, neither of them moved.
“So – uh dumb question?” Simon opened uncertainly, “But … are you okay?” He took a slower step towards him then, when all Raphael did was look at him with dark, guarded expression. “Raphael? Is this some feeding-in-the-night hangover thing you have going on right now?”
Confusion twisted Raphael’s features, the fangs disappearing slowly as his dark eyes moving over Simon’s face slowly. “Do you – ” his voice was a rasp, “You know me?”
Simon blinked, opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, while the enormity of what Raphael had just asked sank in. “Are you serious right now?”
Raphael straightened up slowly, his gaze – Simon realized – wasn’t quite as sharp as it usually was and his hair was plastered to his face, like he had been outside when the rain had really been falling. “You know me,” he said now, less of a question.
“Yeah.” Simon took another step towards him, his arms still out to his sides, just lower now, “I know you,” he told him, “Do you – ” he felt stupid just saying it, but he pushed the words out, “– know me?”
It looked for a moment like Raphael was trying to focus and then something like a wince flickered over his face. “Should I?” He demanded.
Simon drew himself up at the tone. “You know what, pal…” he scowled, “If this is some kind of twisted fun you’re having then – ” and of course Raphael wasn’t even looking at him. He waved a hand in Raphael’s face, “Hey are you listening to me?”
Raphael clearly wasn’t listening though, he was looking past Simon, beyond him.
At the sky, Simon realized, at the sunrise.
The sky was starting to glow, the light spreading through the air, and it lit Raphael indirectly for an instant; it highlighted his pallor and the open wounds and had heat bubbles rising on his skin.
Simon inhaled sharply. “Oh shit, shit. Get in the van, get in, get in, quick… go, go…” he ushered Raphael towards it as he moved, shoving at his arms and shoulders and back, feeling sticky blood under his fingers.
And Raphael went, tripping over his feet and catching himself on the side of the van until Simon wretched the door open and propelled him inside, “Get in the back! Out of the sun!”
Raphael didn’t so much as get in the back of the van as he did stumble and fall into it, crawling all the way to the far end. As far from the sunlight as he could get.
“G – ” Simon coughed. The word stuck in his throat and he breathed out a long breath for a moment, leaning back against the van. The sun was on his face now and he shut his eyes; his heart should be pounding, he thought, if he were alive his heart would be pounding. He had almost watched Raphael go up in flames just now. He rubbed a hand over his face.
Raphael.
Right.
He opened the door to the van carefully, sliding into the front seat, and turning to face the back. “So – ” he announced, his voice forcefully bright, “That was exciting.”
Raphael had latched onto one of the dingy blankets they had used to cover equipment and he had wrapped it around himself. It was hard to unsee the pallor now that Simon had seen it, to not notice the way Raphael’s hair was curling slightly as it dried, the way the scratches where his arms were still visible through the blanket weren’t healing.
Simon cleared his throat. “So, you uh know you’re a vampire, right?” He checked.
Eyebrows lifted very slightly. “Obviously.”
And Simon had to admit (just to himself) that it was probably some kind of a grand feat to sound that disdainful over a simple question while sitting huddled under a blanket on the floor of van. Outwardly though, he huffed and frowned and showed his frustration by letting his voice rise an octave, “Okay, like what the hell is going on? Because you look like shit and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing about you wandering around barefoot in New York City close to dawn. Which by the way, you’re welcome for the save. So could you just tell me what is going on, just this one time? Since I pulled over like an idiot and let you in here to being with. And also,” Simon continued, wrinkling his nose, “Barefoot in New York City. That’s like the worst thing to ever do.”
“I don’t know,” Raphael said after a beat, pulling the blanket around himself more tightly.
He was trembling, just slight tremors, but Simon noticed them then; another thing he couldn’t quite unsee. “How do you not know?” He asked, his voice a touch less demanding all of a sudden.
“By not knowing,” Raphael retorted lowly, his gaze fixed on the floor of the van.
Simon frowned again. “Okay, you know what? I’m just going to drop you off at the DuMort and then I’m done with this,” he announced angrily, turning in his seat to face forward.
He had his hand on the gear shift when Raphael shifted slightly in the back of the van.
“I don’t… remember.”
The words were very soft, hesitant. And Simon breathed, “Oh,” going very still, “Right.” He lifted a hand and adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see Raphael in the back. “You don’t remember what happened,” he echoed, questioning and just a little skeptical.
In the mirror, he watched Raphael shake his head slightly, “No.”
Simon swallowed hard, if Raphael was serious about this – “What... do you remember?” He asked carefully, because Raphael had asked him if he knew who he was, had avoided answering if he knew who Simon was; because if this was real, if it wasn’t some elaborate scam to mess with Simon’s head and manipulate him into doing something; if Raphael truly didn’t remember himself then it was way over Simon’s paygrade. He was not equipped to handle something like this, he barely even knew Raphael to begin with and there would definitely be some of kind attack involved in not remembering yourself.
He licked his lips, waited.
“I don’t – I don’t know,” Raphael murmured finally, his voice was faint now. “I can’t – ” he went still then.
And Simon felt an uncharacteristic jolt of worry of spiral through him. “Okay, alright… we’ll uh – we’ll figure that out then. Yeah, we can – ” He shifted in the seat again, facing the back, “Magnus,” he said, the thought bright in his suddenly very loud and busy mind, “You remember Magnus, right? He’ll know what to do, we’ll go talk to him, and he’ll figure this out and it’ll be fine…”
There was no response except for the dark head lowering to his knees. Now Simon couldn’t see his face.
“Raphael?” He checked. Then added inanely, “That’s your name. Yeah, I know you. You know me. I'm Simon.” He paused, waited for a response, “You okay back there?”
Another bout of silence. “Okay, listen – ” Simon started.
Only to be interrupted. “Stop talking,” Raphael muttered.
And Simon pressed his lips together, strangely relieved. He rolled his eyes. “That sounds about right,” he said dryly.
There was no further retort though. “I’m going to go back there, don’t – bite my face off or anything…” he warned, before leaving the front seat and approaching Raphael.
“Hey,” he said, “For real… you okay?”
Raphael drew back slightly, curling into himself more tightly. He had made himself very small now; another thing Simon wasn’t sure he’d be able to unsee. “Raphael,” he said, “You’re really freaking me out…”
Raphael spoke finally. “I can’t remember anything,” he said, “Just… I was on the street and it was raining. I don’t – know how I got there, I don’t… know anything. It’s all… just dark.” He lifted his head, looking at Simon with heavy-lidded dark eyes, “But you know me…?”
All just dark. “Yeah.” Simon answered quietly. “Raphael Santiago, clan leader for the New York City vampires.”
There was no recognition on Raphael’s face. He blinked slowly, “Okay,” he murmured. “Could you… take me home?”
It was such a simple request and it made Simon’s heart turnover. “I – ” he breathed out, “I’m going to take you to… to see Magnus. He’ll help you, he’s a warlock, do you know – do know what that is? Do you remember him?” It was a dumb question, Simon knew it as he asked, but this was hard to comprehend. How could this be happening?
“A… magic maker,” Raphael told him softly, his head dropping to his knees again, “I don’t remember him.”
Magic maker? “Okay,” Simon offered, looking at him for another moment. He sat down across from him then, getting his phone out. “We’re going to call him and see what he says…”
Raphael didn’t respond and it occurred to Simon abruptly that it maybe had nothing to do with reticence or wanting to annoying him, maybe Raphael was just too tired to respond to everything he was saying.
He swallowed hard and made the call. Magnus did not pick up. Simon glanced at his watch – it was 5:37 AM.
The voicemail piped up and Simon talked, nervous energy in every word: Hey Magnus, so uh good morning? Yeah. So hope you’re home today because you’re uh about to get a surprise vampire visit. I’m uh with Raphael and we could use some – well, he could – we need some uh magic... making? So we’ll uh be there soon. It’s important, really. Okay? Right, bye. See you.
He ended the call and looked at Raphael, waiting for a comment. That hadn’t exactly been his smoothest sentence, but there was none; no movement either.
Simon hesitated for a moment and then reached a hand out, touching his shoulder.
Raphael startled under his touch, jerking away slightly.
“Sorry,” Simon said automatically, pulling his hand back, “I just – we’re going to head to Magnus’. Stay back here and maybe, cover yourself, okay? With the blanket, just in case, with the sun…”
Raphael lifted his head to look at him and Simon felt that jolt of worry spiral through him again. The eyes fixed on him were hazy, not quite tracking, and his lips hardly moved when breathed a faint, “Okay,” and then shrugged the blanket a little closer.
Simon nodded. “Right, yes. Okay then, off we go…” he hesitated again though, because the tremors and the hazy eyes and not-healing – “If you uh... ” if he what? He shook his head, “Nevermind. I’m gonna – do the driving thing, going…”
Simon rolled his eyes at himself, but Raphael remained silent, not taking the very glaring opportunity to mock him. It was… disconcerting.
He blew out a breath and got back got into the driver’s seat; twenty minutes and they’d be at Magnus’, then maybe they could get things to make sense again.