Regret
A/N: Hello, my fanfiction readers! So, I felt like writing angst today, and hell, I've never written Mortal Instruments, so why not? (I honestly don't like Clary or Jace, but I love Simon, Izzy and just everybody else that isn't those two.)

His life flashes before his own eyes, as the Angel's powers struck him down upon this legendary spot. His daughter, the traitor, Clarissa, had been the one to condemn him like this, his own flesh and blood. He thought he had been doing the Shadowhunters a favor, getting rid of the Downworlders for good…they could've been the best, the leaders of Heaven and Hell. He never expected to be brought down by his own blood, but it was by his own actions he was to die in this way. And all he could think about was that woman. The woman who scared him and made him love at the same time. It was not his sons he thought of, nor his daughter, not even his loyal followers…but her. Jocelyn Fairchild. The woman he couldn't even save from himself

It was a bright sunny day in Alicante, as his feet walked upon the dirt road. His hands were stuck into his pockets, the back of his neck covered in sweat. Though it was a reasonably bright day, it was also hot. The summers in Alicante were unbearable, but he thought a walk through Alicante would help him clear his mind. Even though he should be thinking of sparring, or fighting techniques, there was one name that kept popping up in his mind. That strange ginger girl in his class, the one who wore paintbrushes behind her ears and only talks to the quieter students. The one who always had paint stains on her face or neck, but when she would fight, they were colored blurs as she struck at her opponents weak spots. She was, he was sure he loved her. As he walks further and further away from the city, he soon spots a flash of red by the shore of the Lake. His eyes widening, his heart skipping a beat. Could it be her? The girl he was just thinking about? He quickened his pace, and soon enough, he was standing a mere few feet away from Jocelyn Fairchild, who was immersed in a painting. Her hand had pencil dust on it, and her eyes were squinting at the paper, as though she couldn't see it enough. She was murmuring to herself, Valentine discovered this as he took a few tentative steps forward.

"No, the rune…it should curve this way! Augh, I'll never get this done for Starkweather…"

"Alright there, Fairchild?"

The girl jumped at the sound of another voice, and turns her head to a see smirking Valentine Morgenstern. He was pleased to see her cheeks redden, and sat beside her. "Y-Yes," she replies, sighing a bit. She wouldn't admit at then, but for the longest time she had a crush on Valentine Morgenstern, but she thought he would never notice a plain girl like her, especially one who was failing Shadowhunter History.

"Nice day, isn't it?" he asked, taking his place next to her. He settled beside her, the green grass beneath them spreading for acres around. The silver lake that they had settled in front of glimmered underneath the boiling sky.

" 'Nice' is what you call a day when there's actually wind," she replied dryly, as she put down her pencil and began doodling on the corner of the page, "This isn't nice, Valentine."

"I assume so," His eyes stare at the sky, marveling at its infinity. He is silent for a moment, before turning his head to hers, his eyes meeting her in an explosive moment. Green stares into brown, as he clears his throat.

"Jocelyn, I've been meaning to ask lately," he began, his voice feigning shyness, but there was an undertone of real curiosity, "Are…er, you and Lucian, you know in History…are you two seeing each other?"

"What?" she asks, her eyes widening in surprise, "No! Er, we're just friends. Just friends, Valentine."

He felt his spirits soar at the news, as he had always suspected his parabatai had loved Jocelyn, but he was always unsure of her affections towards him. He felt a smile curve on his face, as his heart swelled at the news. He knew his growing emotions for Jocelyn had to be revealed eventually, but his heart wouldn't be able to take the rejection as well as he could hope. His mother and father just died, so all he could do was protect it. However, it seemed every time Jocelyn was there, it was collapse.

"Jocelyn, you are indeed a lovely girl," he blurts, not able to stop the words from escaping his throat, "And I can understand why Lucian is infatuated by you."

"Valentine-"

"And I will not deny myself the lie, Jocelyn, as I am infatuated by you as well," he says, as he turns his head to meet her eyes, "And I know it seems I could be lying, but this time, I swear by the Angel that I do enjoy your company, and that I would like if you accompany me to the Shadowhunter Dance tomorrow night-"

He is interrupted by a pair of sweet lips landing on his own, and his eyes expand to see Jocelyn Fairchild kissing him softly, her pale arms snaking around his neck. It takes a moment, but then his own arms wrapped around her back, and pull her closer than ever. Together, their lips battle in passion and longing, before she pulls back, her cheeks slightly red.

"Er…sorry…" she says, her voice higher and quieter than usual. Valentine's face curved in a smile, as his hand reached up to brush against her paint covered cheek, and bring her in for another kiss.

Valentine remembers that precious moment, his first confession of love to Jocelyn Fairchild, who soon afterwards, became Jocelyn Morgenstern. He remembers their wedding, as the Angel burned his body to the ground. Her beautiful smile, her amazing grace, and her voice echoing words that he thought he wouldn't ever hear in his life again…

"I love you, Valentine Morgenstern." Jocelyn's voice echoed throughout the hall, as her friends and family witnessed their wedding. She was dressed in a long golden gown, her hair pinned up in a beautiful bun. Her smile was as radiant as the sun, and every time she turned, her dress gave off shimmers of light. Valentine thought she looked like his own Angel.

"And I will love you, under the name of the Angel Raziel, and till death do us part."

The witnesses erupted into applause, as Valentine's lips met hers in a final seal of their wedding, the Priest reading the last vows in Latin, and pronouncing them as Valentine and Jocelyn Morgenstern, and for a moment, everything was perfect, everything was just as it was supposed to be. Little did he know that it couldn't last for long. That his world will fall, and she will be right by his side as it did.

Why did he have to lose his Angel? She could've saved him from the world. That's what Angels were supposed to do, right? Save the world, protect the innocent in the name of the Lord? She was supposed to save him. She was supposed to hold him close and guide him through this chaos. But he couldn't protect her from himself, as he remembers the way he selfishly used her for his experiments, to experiment on his own children, and she had been the unfortunate victim. He was her husband, and he broke many of his vows that he was supposed to keep. He promised he would never hurt her, but always cherish her, and always love her.

It broke his heart to see her writhing in pain, trying to get away from his arms

He knew his love would suffer nightmares, or even terrible memories of his experimentation. He had to force the tea down her throat one day, and the next he would simply hand it to her. She knew he was trying to create something inside of her, but he never knew how much it would hurt to see her trying to get away from him.

"No! Don't touch me!" her voice echoes in their bedroom, as she tries to get away from his gentle arms, "You…you HURT me!"

"Jocelyn," he says in a low voice, trying to coax her into his arms. He stretched his arms to her, where she only winced, "I would never…ever hurt you…"

"You're a liar," she hisses, her eyes turning to angry green slits. She threw her pillow at him, which hit him with a comical thud. However, the situation was far from hilarious. He manages to get her to calm down, though she was still afraid. Wrapping his strong arms around her, he ran his fingers through her crimson locks, whispering to her.

"Jocelyn, it was just a nightmare…" he whispers, his voice in a warm whisper, "I would never hurt you, you know that…"

"It was so real, though…."

"Jocelyn," he lifted her head to meet his, her fear filled face meeting his own, hope flaring in her eyes, "I would never hurt you, and I promise you, I will take care of you until my last breath."

What a coward Valentine had been. What sort of man makes that promise for the greater good? He was. He never thought he'd be such a man, the one to hurt the ones he loves because he craves power and wealth. He never even dreamt of having a woman like Jocelyn in his heart, but when she betrayed him, when she left him, it ripped a hole in his already broken heart. He had searched for ages, looking for his love, but never found her there. He still loved her, and he always will. How much he wanted to hurt himself for causing harm to this woman. Downworlders or not, she would always be one of his number one priorities, the only person in this world he could possibly love.

He couldn't hear her breath, as he enters the chamber. Blackwell had reported that she was still breathing, that she was fine, but he would never be able to forgive him if she had died. It's been years since he last saw her, and it's only seemed she's become even more beautiful than before. Her eyes were lined, and her face was more slender, her formerly plump cheeks become thin and coarse. Her hair was splayed out behind her like a pillow, creating a red halo around her head. Her coral lips were closed, and he wished, for one moment, that his own lips could brush them.

He knew he had little time with her here, and that even if she could wake up, it would just hurt even more. He sat beside her cold, frozen body and slowly placed his hand on hers, a small tear escaping his eye.

"Hey there, Jo…" he whispers, his voice breaking with every single syllable. The fact that she would never ever respond was attacking his heart, "I…"

What do you say to the woman you love, after years of longing, sadness and anger? What could he possibly say? The truth would be unbearable. The events would be irrelevant. He had to tell her how he felt. How much she meant to him. How much he needed her.

"Jocelyn, I know you can't hear me," he whispers, his hand brushing her arm gently, "Or that you'd ever care to…but I love you." Tears began to freely flow down his face, as he continued to speak, "And I know it doesn't matter to you how I feel. I know that you don't care about me. I know you love Lucian…he still loves you too."

Silence

"And…I know you couldn't ever forgive me after what I've done…on how I altered Jonathan, and how I hurt Clary…Jocelyn, it was all for the greater good…but now it's too late to realize…you were the only good that mattered all this time. And I'm sorry…God, if I could ever re write this entire story, I would, Jocelyn…we'd be able to live together…we would've raised Jonathan and Clarissa together…we would've been happy…and you would love me. We'd be able to live together, and spend the years together, and you would love me and trust me just like before. And I know we can't…we can't ever have that again…but I can still dream of you."

He stood up, realizing his time was short, and bit his lip, hard. Drawing blood, he bent down and gently brushed his lips against her pale forehead, praying for the first time in forever to that supposed God, that she would wake up, that she would love him again. But he knew that harsh reality would smash his heart once more, that she could never love him again. His dreams were shut, and that he had screwed it all up because of his humanity.

"Jocelyn…" he whispered as he left the room, looking back for one moment. His Angel was still asleep, her wings were still broken. "I…I will love you. And…I will never stop. "

Oh how those words echoed to him now, as he was being struck down. His senses began to fade, and his eyes began to close. But this world had been good in some ways. He had discovered the flaws amongst his people. He became famous and rich. He had all his dreams. But one by one, they had all died, all because he lost the most important one: Jocelyn.

And as he fell, slowly descending into his hell, her beautiful face, her glowing, amazing face haunted him as he fell. He whispers those three words one last time, the last time he could ever say it, and he knew she would never hear it ever again, but if she could, he could barely hope that she would say it too, but he knew there was no going back. That she would never love him as much as he ever loved her, and that every waking moment he had had, would be about her, that strange woman, his strange angel, his Angel.