"No," Reid says, his voice void now of any real hint of emotion, and he suddenly feels so tired. Whatever Alec had done, it hadn't worked, at least not in full, though Reid supposes he should at least be grateful for the confirmation of something he hadn't doubted. "No, he's not gone from the city."

His legs practically keep out from beneath him then, and he reaches out to steady himself against the arm of the couch before sinking down on the cushions, staring blankly at the book of poetry they'd been flipping through together the previous night, before they'd ended up distracted by each other. That's what their life is supposed to be, nights spent reading poetry to each other or pretending they only watch Space Hospital ironically or falling into bed without any regard for the fact that a delivery is meant to come to the door at anytime.

It's not supposed to be this: a severe sense of grief, of terror that he can't shake, because Reid knows if anyone had been able to overpower Luke, this isn't just a random coincidence. Luke had been a target and more than likely, so had Magnus.

"I should go back out there," he says, forcing himself to look back at Alec. "After I've fixed up my hand. I need to keep looking. If I stop, I might allow the possibility that he might not come back, and I can't do that. He's coming back, all of them are."