Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews, great to know you didn't think it was too mushy or cliché.

In this chapter we have some Jace/Jonathan bonding and some Jocelyn/Jonathan bonding as well. I love seeing Jonathan bond with people – maybe I'm just crazy.

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments.


"All your insecurities, all that dirty laundry. Never made me blink one time. Unconditional…unconditionally. I will love you, unconditionally. There is no fear now, let go and just be free. I will love you, unconditionally…"

- Unconditionally, Katy Perry


Chapter Two

Being stuck in a room with a person you killed barely twelve hours ago was not exactly an ideal situation.

For the first time in his life, his smooth-talking skills were failing him and Jace did not like it one bit.

Both boys were leaning on walls opposite each other and Jace was taking the time to surreptitiously observe Clary's brother – Jonathan was his brother too, he supposed. After all, they had both been raised by Valentine.

"You can just say it, you know," Jonathan broke the silence, his voice dry. "I know you hate me."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Jonathan laughed – but it was a wry, bitter laugh. "Doesn't everyone?" he asked. "Valentine's son – took the wards down – traitor, murderer, enemy…"

He trailed off, eyes fixed on the door that Clary had vanished through a few minutes ago.

Jace hadn't known what exactly had transpired between the siblings in the hallway but he had noticed a difference. He hadn't wanted to ask; he got the feeling it was a private brother-sister bonding moment.

Jace didn't often feel sorry for people but looking at the boy across from him, he felt a tinge of empathy. He knew what it was like to ostracized because of who your parents were, who people thought you were; he had experienced it in those few terrible weeks he thought he was Valentine's son. People who had previously trusted him now became more wary; the Inquisitor had held a grudge against him where she had had none before; Maryse herself had kicked him out of the Institute, even if it was for a brief time.

The injustice still rankled within him.

"I don't hate you," Jace finally found his voice. "I hate Sebastian. I don't know you, so how could I hate you?"

Jonathan looked up. "But I know about you. Valentine told me about you all the time. His lovely little angel boy, too soft and kind to even bear the death of his pet. I remember he told me he loved you for those things – and I think he really meant it."

Jace shook his head. "I don't think Valentine knew how to love. How to love properly."

"It was always about you," Jonathan said. "He loved you in a way he never loved Sebastian. Sebastian was what he wanted – a perfect warrior – but I think he realized that in burning out his humanity, he had created a son who could never love him. And so he tried again, with you."

Jace didn't think he would ever get used to hearing Jonathan refer to his past self as Sebastian. Another reminder that the guy in front of him wasn't who he used to be.

"I guess that's why Sebastian seemed to absolutely hate me when I fought him," Jace shrugged. "The only reason I'm even alive now is because he wanted to stay and talk."

Jonathan looked up, and his eyes were pure anguish. "I'm sorry."

Jace tilted his head, looking at him. "Why are you apologizing?"

"It was still me," Jonathan said. "No matter what anyone says – even though it was Valentine that made me into that thing – it was still me. It was still my mind that made the decisions, still my hands that killed, still my mouth that smiled at the terror and shock that I had wreaked." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You thought so too – even when I came in here with Clary – you still thought I was Sebastian."

"No." Jace's voice was calm. "I don't think you're Sebastian anymore, and neither are you a reborn version of him. You're the person that would have existed if Valentine hadn't done what he did. You're the brother that Clary should have had her whole life. How can I take her brother away from her?"

"But Sebastian took your brother away from you," Jonathan said, and his voice held infinite sorrow. "And even if I am not Sebastian anymore, I was him once. And that means that Max died at my hands."

Max. The word brought back the terrible wave of grief that Jace had been pushing away. Max, short and skinny and stubborn. Max, whom he had always been too busy to spend time with. Max, who had died alone with no one to make his final moments easier.

For a minute, his heart was filled with hate and he longed for the revenge he would never be able to get, because how would he be able to hurt Jonathan when the part of him that he wanted to destroy was already gone?

"You see?" Jonathan asked. "Sebastian and I are not the same anymore, but that doesn't mean you can always distinguish it. The Shadowhunters want revenge, and I am the only person who deserves it."

"No," Jace said. "Valentine does. Would you have become Sebastian if he had never poisoned you with Lilith's blood? This is who you really are, who you would have been. You're a new person, with a new life, and one day, everyone else will realize it too."

Jonathan was still leaning his head on the wall, his eyes closed. "I hope I can believe that."

"You will." The words came from the doorway.

Both boys turned in the direction of the voice. It was Clary.

Her face was calm, her voice absolutely sure; like she could see into the future and know what would happen to her brother.

Jace looked from one to another. Clary and Jonathan were so much more similar than he had initially realized. Jonathan may have gotten Valentine's white-blonde hair and tall frame but his eyes were Jocelyn's; vibrant, vivacious green. He had slender fingers and long eyelashes and without the persona of Sebastian, his face was softer, kinder, more human without the cruel smirk that twisted his mouth.

Just like Clary.

Jace watched Clary lean up to whisper something to Jonathan, saw his face pale and experienced a moment of curiosity; what had Clary told him?

Clary folded her arms and stared at him, eyes stern. Jonathan looked at her for a minute, nodded and then walked out the door with a nod to Jace.

"What did you tell him?" Jace asked.

Clary looked at him, and he saw conflicted emotions play out in her green eyes. "I told him to go see his mother."


Jocelyn had lived with the guilt for eighteen years.

Barely a day went by that she didn't think of her son, the boy who Valentine had stolen from her before she was even given a chance to get to know him.

She had tried so, so hard to keep from letting Clary see her pain. But on that one day every year, she let herself mourn for her lost child.

"Why you crying, Mummy?"

Five year old Clary, her red hair braided into two plaits, came up to Jocelyn, looking worried. Jocelyn couldn't blame her; she had never cried in front of Clary before.

Just seeing Clary every day, she was reminded of Jonathan; he would have been six if he had lived. She knew it was for the best that he was dead – if he had lived, the damage he could have done to the world would have been astounding. She felt nothing for Valentine any longer; the moment he had turned their child into a monster, he had been dead to her.

She had dreamed, sometimes, of a boy with eyes as green as springtime, a boy who was able to feel joy and love, a boy who had never had his humanity taken away from him, but that was all he was – a dream. Valentine had turned that dream into a nightmare, and she would never forgive him for it.

What kind of father would do that to his own child?

Looking at her daughter now, she felt the tears spill down her cheeks. She would never be able to tell Clary about the old Nephilim legends, never be able to show her around Alicante, never see her own daughter get her first rune. She would have to hide Clary from the Shadowhunter world for the rest of her life.

All because of Valentine.

She hugged Clary to her, burying her face into her soft red hair as Clary started to cry too, not knowing the reason but sobbing for whatever it was that had caused her strong, determined mother to break down.

"Mom?"

Jocelyn turned abruptly to see her son standing in the doorway. "Jonathan?" she asked hoarsely, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Jonathan wavered in the door, his expression conflicted. "I can go if you want…"

"No, no!" she said quickly. "Stay."

He walked in and she stood up from the chair to walk over to him. He looked nervous, unsure. It felt as if something hard and sharp had been driven into Jocelyn's chest. She had missed nearly seventeen years of his life. She didn't know anything about her son.

But this was her second chance. She had finally gotten what she had hoped for for so long.

"Jonathan," she started, asking the question she desperately wanted to hear the answer to. "What did Valentine do to you?"

He flinched as if she had slapped him across the face and her worst suspicions were confirmed. Her horror and shock must have shown on her face because he reached out a hand as if to touch her shoulder and then seemed to think better of it, drawing his hand back.

"He beat you," she whispered. "Didn't he?"

She remembered Valentine as she had first met him, young and brilliant and handsome, with his white-blonde hair and startling dark eyes, kind and always willing to help. He had been human then, had truly wanted to change things for the better but after his father died, that Valentine had vanished forever. She had been so blind, she thought, not to have seen it.

Jonathan looked as if he didn't want to say anything, and then he nodded. "He beat us both," he told her, his eyes light years away. "He said I should be stronger, I should be able to bear pain and not flinch. He used to whip me with demon metal – fifty lashes a day, and more if I showed any sign of pain."

Jocelyn's hand flew to her mouth. "Demon metal?" she whispered. "Is it – are the marks still there?"

He turned around and took off his shirt. Tears started to Jocelyn's eyes as she stared at his back; it was criss-crossed with lash marks, scars overlapping each other, new ones on top of barely healed ones. Demon metal scars, she knew, would never be healed by any iratze in the world. "Oh Jonathan," she murmured, "I am so sorry."

Jonathan turned back to her. "No, Mom," he said gently. "Please don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"If I had stayed – " Jocelyn started in despair. "If I had stayed, maybe I could have reined him in. Maybe I could have changed Sebastian, if I had brought him up with love."

"I asked Valentine about you once," Jonathan said simply. "He said you were gone, that you were never coming back. He said you could never love a monster, that he was the only one who would ever love me."

Jocelyn felt sick. "I'm so sorry – "

"No, don't apologize. I wanted to say that I understand why you did it. I don't hate you, Mom. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. Can you – " he hesitated. "Can you forgive me?"

"You're not Sebastian," Jocelyn gently stroked his white-blonde hair. "You haven't done anything wrong. There's nothing to forgive."

She rose up on her toes and kissed his forehead. She could feel her own tears falling from her eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief and joy. She may have missed seventeen years of his life, but he was still her son and she could already feel the strength of her affection for him.

Her son the way he should be, pure and untainted, the son she had always wanted.

"I was so lonely," Jonathan said suddenly. "When I was Sebastian. Valentine didn't – he didn't love me. No one did. And I didn't know what love was or how to love someone, but I wanted to be loved. I think there was a small part of me that remained untouched by Lilith's blood, and that human part of me was you."

"I never realized," he continued. "Until Raziel rid me of the demon blood. All my life it has scorched my veins and cut at my heart like blades and weighed me down like lead – all my life, and I never knew it. I never knew the difference."

He looked at her and suddenly smiled, a joyful, happy smile that made him seem ten years younger.

"I never felt so light."


Yay! Another chapter done!

I have plans for this story, so it won't be fluff all the time. Soon enough the real plot will develop and then there will be drama and adventure for anyone who's getting tired of seeing just Jonathan bond with people.

Oh, and just to clarify: this is FanFiction and Cassandra Clare wrote about Jonathan for, like, two pages. She gave very little clue as to what his personality is like, but I think he's kind and gentle, and he feels remorseful for his actions.

Just to make it clear – I might not capture Jonathan's personality perfectly and for that I apologize right now. I am writing him the way I think he would be.

Tell me what you thought about Jace and Jonathan and Jocelyn and if you liked this chapter or not.

Till next time!