Hello again. How funny we should meet again like this! Here's another new story for you to sink your teeth into. I really hope you like all of these stories and as I've said just because I'm writing this one also, doesn't mean I won't be updating Haus of Malec or Perfection Incarnate – all will be receiving equal attention! Please feel free to review.

We were silent the entire trip back. My mum's eyes were focussed on the road, her hands glued to the steering wheel only moving every so often to wipe a stray tear away. I watched the countryside sprawling past, trying not to get too far into my own head. I didn't want to think about it, I didn't want to deal with it. Jon was sat silent in the passenger seat, flinching every time another car drove past us. Soon the countryside passed and suddenly it was all buildings, people everywhere. Jon pulled his cap down over his eyes, whether to hide his apparent embarrassment or to shed a few tears himself I wasn't sure. I wound my window down to get some fresh air, the space suddenly feeling like it was closing in. People talking, footsteps falling and phones ringing…

The phone was ringing but no one was answering. Mum was sitting in the chair, her cup of coffee smashed in front of her on the floor. The phone rang out, Mum unflinching. I asked what was wrong and it was as though she couldn't hear it. And the phone was ringing again. I asked her again but she didn't respond. I went to answer the phone but she grabbed my arm, holding me back. And then we were hugging, she was crying and I was so confused but I knew something was wrong. Deep down I knew something was wrong. It took a while before she could form the words to tell me. It took even longer to process them. Dad was what? He couldn't be. I'd only seen him three weeks ago.

As soon as we got the news we started making plans to be with Jon. Dad and Jon had been in a car crash as Dad was taking Jon to a football meet. Some drunk driver. Mum and Dad had been separated for the last 8 years. Jon lived with Dad and me with Mum but we made sure to reconnect any chance we had. I loved my Dad, I just got on easier with my Mum. And now he was gone and I felt so guilty for not choosing him. Jon had escaped the crash but his legs had been nigh on crushed. Mum was going to have to tutor him from home until he was prepared to go back to school. I had been nervous to see him afterwards, I didn't know what I would say to him. What do you say to someone after they've experienced that? Sorry hardly seems to suffice. Sorry that you had to watch Dad die. Sorry you, a football player, won't be able to even use your legs for countless weeks. Sorry that I wasn't there. It had all become a reality when the hospital staff had wheeled Jon out to the car, lifted him from his chair into the front seat and he hadn't uttered a word since. It became even more real when Mum stopped the car outside of Dad's house and nobody appeared to greet us. When Jon reached for the car door and went to step out, his legs disobeying him. Mum was quick to react hopping out of the car herself, retrieving the wheelchair from the boot and placing it next to where Jon was sat. Climbing out of the car, I felt awkward. Jon probably didn't want my help but I was going to offer it anyway. Mum was trying to help him best she could, like you would try and lift a baby. Placing myself on Jon's other side, I allowed him to levy his upper-body weight against me so that he could help himself into the chair, using the car as support. Mum made sure his legs were in right before heading up to the house to open it. I went to follow her, but Jon's hand grabbed my wrist stopping me.

"Clary." I turned to face him and realised immediately that he couldn't just follow after us. The house was on an incline and it would have been near impossible for him to wheel himself up there without potentially causing further injury to himself. Placing myself behind him, I pushed him towards the house. "Can we talk?" Jon muttered just before we reached the threshold.

"Sure."

"Privately." Jon asked, looking into the house. I wheeled him around the side of the house and out of earshot. "How is she?"

"She's been making herself busy planning the funeral and getting your room ready. She hasn't spoken much. I think she's glad to have you home." My voice felt shaky coming out, I hadn't used it much over the last few weeks.

"I just wish I could have brought him home with me." Jon commented and I bowed my head.

"Me too." We were silent for a while. "How are you feeling?"

"Not fantastic. School starts in a couple of days, I think it's going to be harder then. How are you feeling?"

"Not good." I shook my head, tears spilling. I couldn't shake this overwhelming guilt. "I feel guilty." I admitted, looking out at the garden. The swing that Dad had constructed just for me so that I didn't get too jealous when Jon got his Jungle Jim for Christmas, the fruit trees we had planted at the back and the rabbit hutch where I'd once kept a wild rabbit we came across in the garden when I'd come to stay.

"Guilty?" Jon repeated, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of my daydream. "You couldn't have predicted this Clary, none of us could. I'd fought with him just before we'd left the house. But he loved us Clary and we loved him. That's what we have to remember." He held my hand and steadied me.

"I'm so sorry Jon." I cried, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tightly. He held my back firmly, his chin resting on my shoulder. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but when we pulled apart I felt a little bit better.

"We'll get through this." Jon reassured. "Together."

Mum had Jon's room ready by the time we got around to the door. Over the last few weeks we'd been moving all of his things into the living room so that he had easier access. By chance, this house happened to have a downstairs toilet which made things a little bit easier. Dinner that night passed by in silence. It was weird to have not heard my mum's voice in so long, I hadn't even seen her cry properly in about a week. We all went to bed early, to escape the silence and to escape our own thoughts. I lay there looking at the minutes tick by on my alarm clock, until I heard my door shimmy open. I closed my eyes instantly, pretending to be asleep. Soft footsteps padded towards my bed, pulling the sheets back. The bed sagged lightly under the extra weight as my mum shuffled in behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist, her face nuzzling into my hair. I held my breath and held my tears back.

"Let them out baby. Just let them out." My mum soothed against my hair. And just from hearing her voice I did. We both did.

The next day I felt a little bit better. Mum went into Jon's room and was in there for about an hour before they both emerged after what I assumed was having a good talk and cry. Jon wanted to dive straight into help mum with the funeral plans which was exactly what I didn't want to do. I went back upstairs and started unpacking. I was dreading going to school. I knew a few people but I hadn't spoken to them in forever, which is kind of what happens when you're 9 and move away,

On the day's leading up to school starting, there were so many knocks at the door. People asking if we were alright, people dropping off an assortment of cakes, stews and traybakes. The most surprising knock came the day before school was supposed to go back. I hopped down the stairs to answer it as Jon and Mum were at the hospital. Opening the door, a tall slim boy stood in front of me, He looked oddly familiar.

"Hey Clary? My mum sent me over with this." He gestured to a tray of brownies. "How are you all feeling? That's a little bit of a stupid question really isn't it? I've never really understood that question. Or why people feel the need to bake people things when they lose someone. Like hey, I know what'll help fill that hole – food. Crap – sorry, I didn't mean to –"He was cut off when I just started laughing. I don't know what it was, maybe the comment about the baking things or maybe it was just built up tension. But I couldn't stop. And in my laughter, I remembered him.

"Simon, right?" I asked. He nodded, and I asked him to come in. It had been at least a few years since Simon and I had last met but we had been best friends when we were children. Once we were sat at the table, Simon seemed to want to talk about anything but the accident which I was thankful for.

"I'm assuming you'll be going to Galaxtian High? Or are you going back?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, I'll be going to school here. Mum has to stay and look after Jon."

"How is Jon?"

"Not good. He's not enjoying the wheelchair, which is understandable." Simon looked shocked.

"He's in a wheelchair?"

"Uh – not permanently. Please don't tell anyone I told you that." I backtracked, feeling terrible for potentially betraying his trust.

"I won't, I swear. But won't people ask you questions when they hear your surname? 'Morgenstern' isn't really that common." Simon commented. Hearing that made me feel terrible all over again. I'd changed my name when I'd moved to live with my mum, yet another slight against my Dad. I tried to channel Jon in my head. Hopefully he hadn't seen it like that.

"I've got my mum's name. So hopefully people won't ask. I don't think I'm ready to talk about it at length."

"Well, if you ever need anyone to talk to or someone to sit for lunch with, I'm here." Simon smiled. Before he left, he left me his phone number. I sat in the kitchen, once he had gone, with the brownies and ate quite a few of them, whilst crying. Jon and Mum must have come back around brownie number 4 or 5. Jon tried his best to come around and comfort me but he was still having issues with the chair and what he could wedge it between. After shoving a few chairs out of the way and muttering a few expletives, he got around to me and hugged my head to his chest.

"We're ordering pizza and having a movie night." Jon decided, Mum looked unsure as though she knew something that I didn't but allowed Jon to take control. Once the pizza's had arrived, we all got comfortable in Jon's room. Jon directed Mum towards the cabinet underneath his television, where boxes and boxes of dvds were stashed. Mum popped one into the player and my heart jumped into my throat when Dad's face burst forth onto the screen. Home videos. Who knew?

We sat in Jon's room for most of the night, watching home videos from when we'd went on holiday to when we'd went to the zoo, playing around in the garden and Jon's first football game. I felt better knowing that we had them as though I was worried I would forget about Dad. What he looked like, what he spoke like, how he walked. I managed to sleep that night for the first time in god knows how long. I slept so long, I nearly slept in for school the next day.

Thank you for reading my stories! Feel free to review and let me know what you think! All of my love, until the next time. ~Sapph