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Chapter 3: Delusional Jonathan

The furious beam of sunlight directed at his closed eyes were obviously enough for Jonathan's demon senses to figure out that it was already morning.

He groaned and tried to roll his back on the source of light but even a tiny bit of movement caused a great amount of pain on his chest area.

And so he cursed.

And finally opened his eyes while placing his right palm on his chest where he remembered the wound was.

It was bandaged carefully and some iratze were obviously placed on it to help it heal faster. The bandage looked fresh but it was tinted with something black.

His blood. Black demon blood.

He then wondered with a cruel smile if he burned anyone with his acid like demon blood or if the person who bandaged him felt a great amount of discomfort and disgust towards him.

He let the thought of hurting someone even though he was unconscious comfort him. Pain of others were like sweet lullabies to his ears.

He smirked.

Then a question popped.

His smirked faded.

He frowned.

"Who bandaged him again?" He asked himself.

He looked around for the first time and really he was inside his own black and white living room lying on one of his expensive sofa.

There was a pitcher of water on the table beside him. Some mundane medicines. Bandage and disinfectant. Salve for wounds. His cut shirt and beaten leather jacket. His favorite sword.

And a wet towel that looked like a rug because of the holes in it. The holes were dark on the wet white towel and for the first time, Jonathan noticed that the black thing that tainted the holes were his acid like demon blood.

The clean and innocent white towel was obviously used to clean him and his wounds.

In return, he burned it and damaged it.

The person who had done the action on him was also probably as damaged as the rug.

"Serves them right for touching his person." Jonathan thought to himself with satisfaction.

He never liked being touch by others. Never. Showing affections and loving gestures were beyond him.

They were signs of weaknesses and he did not need nor like any of it.

Weaknesses weren't tolerable.

It disgusted him.

He tried to sit up and he was rewarded with a painful sensation in his chest.

He was still feeling a little bit disoriented.

And a little bit pathetic.

If you're a wounded shadowhunter, iratze, the healing rune, becomes your best friend. And so he tried to reach for the stele that he remembered tucking in his right black boots to put some new iratze on his demanding chest.

When he finally took hold of his personal stele, last night's memory hit him. Hard.

He remembered when he was ambushed by those low lives downwolders.

He remembered the fight.

He remembered the werewolf that was about to stab him.

He remembered how she showed up.

He remembered how she saved his life.

Clarissa.

If possible, the rush of memories became more painful than his throbbing chest.

He wasn't so surprised that for all the people who can show up, it just had to be her.

He knew long ago that his sister's luck wasn't so fabulous.

She was a trouble magnet.

So if you don't want any trouble, stay away from her.

He looked around for any sign of the fiery red head girl.

Negative.

She wasn't around.

Maybe she went home and told the Clave that he was wounded.

Maybe she told her shadowhunter lover and friends his current location.

Or maybe they are already on their way to bring him down.

Thoughts and possibilities run like a maniac car inside his mind.

He shrugged and told himself that he doesn't care where she is or how she is.

Good riddance.

She wasn't his responsibility nor his damn business.

And when they come, he would be ready for them.

But deep inside his chest, he could feel something tingling:

Disappointment.

But he shrugged it away like an insect pestering him.


He tried to check his balance and coordination. He stood up and stretched a little but still careful not to touch his healing chest.

He was still sore and his chest burned but other than that he was perfectly fit as new.

He walked towards the next door carefully and a little bit slower where the kitchen was located.

He intended to get something to eat.

But froze at the sight.

She was sleeping.

Clary was lumpily seated on one of the kitchen chair. Sleeping. She was leaning on the kitchen table where her head was placed on. Her face was turned to the left while her hands were carefully stretched in front of her.

She put her hair into a messy bun and her clothes were still the same as last night.

Jonathan did not know what to think of the sight in front of him.

He held his place and carefully studied the sleeping girl with extra angel blood inside his kitchen.

It did not make any sense nor did it look right for him.

"She is exhausted." He observed.

And it was true. Jonathan could see the dark circles under her eyes and the way she slept, it seemed like even the loudest demon that he could find won't manage to wake her up.

Her hands though was another matter. It had some blisters and angry red burn here and there that were obviously cause by his demon blood.

He knew his blood were like acid to mundanes and shadowhunters but he did not know what are the effects of it towards shadowhunters with weird extra angel blood.

The way he saw it though, he could conclude that whatever the effects were on Clarissa, they weren't good.

The blisters and angry red burns looked painful and they probably were.

"Why didn't she put some iratze on them?"

He thought. The wounds were healing. Yes. But they were healing too slow.

He cursed the sleeping girl.

Why does she needs to be so stupid? Iratze was created to heal shadowhunters.

He thought to himself angrily. Angry at her. At himself.

Because when thought about it. Those wounds where from him. His blood. Intended or not, he caused it.

"I did not told her to touch me." He assured himself haughtily.

But she did save his life and took care of him when he did not even asked for it.

His eyes softened and he felt something painful rising in his chest.

Not his wound.

Guilt.

It was eating him inside. And he did not enjoy the feeling.

Why?

Why must she be so stupid to interfere? He could just catch the stabbing knife. He was pretty sure that he would survive. Somehow.

He was totally convinced by then that someday, Clarissa's kindness and gentle affections towards creature would be her downfall. It would be the cause of her death. He was pretty certain.

He did not know if he should be proud to have such a noble sister.

Or to be disgusted to be cursed with a stupid and pathetic sister who would be happy to give her own life for someone.

And for crying out loud, he was a demon. A very complex psychopath demon. Why was she helping him? He knew she hated him with all those things he had done. So why then? Killing him during his current state last night would prove to be easy. She could had just even left him in the dark alley and let him bleed to his death. Jonathan was pretty sure no one would care.

So why go to such trouble in helping him?

He was so lost and he did not like not knowing either.

"I could just kill her and be done with it ..." He tried to reason with himself.

Killing her would be wise and so easy. He was just five feet away from her.

Yes. It would be so easy and so he made his way towards her with his mind set.

When he was already beside her, he took out his stele.

He sighed like he knew he was already going to regret his choice of action.

Then drew some iratze on Clary's hands with gentleness.

He might be a demon but he still had his honor. Well some of it. Clarissa saved his life and he intended to pay her rightfully starting with healing her hands.

Until then, he would let her live.


Her hands were too small and too soft in his hands. Jonathan decided. It was deadly fragile and he was afraid he would break it sooner or later.

"Women are so weak." Jonathan snide silently while still drawing some iratze on the sleeping girl.

He then wondered how they could survive for so long in their overly small frame and emotional body. They were usually annoying too.

He glared at the girl who was still oblivious to the world around her. She fitted the description perfectly.

Small frame. Overly emotional. Annoying.

He wondered what Valentine would think if he saw the scene playing right now.

He would probably be disgusted and reprimanded him for showing some action of caring and gentleness.

This should be beneath him.

To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be destroyed.

He was aware of it. It was embedded in his mind ever since.

And he, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, promised himself that he would not fall.

He would not be destroyed.

Not by anyone or anything.

He then glared at the girl he was healing, daring her to correct him.

She continued to sleep happily despite his menacing glares and grumbles of curses.

It infuriated him even more how she could feel comfortable with small proximity between them.

She was impossible.


When Clary finally woke up, she noticed a lot of things at once.

First, her neck was stiff and her back was screaming to protest.

Second, she wasn't sitting on the kitchen chair where she remembered falling asleep nor could she see the marks on her hands anymore.

Third, she was now lying on the sofa where she dragged Jonathan on last night.

Jonathan.

"Where is he?!" She panicked and jumped on her feet.

Her back cracked because of the sudden movement and she put a hand on it to ease the soreness.

Damn.

Where is he?

Clary tried looking around. The house seemed empty. Did he leave? She knew Jonathan wasn't well enough to fight or hunt down some downwolders for revenge. She just hoped Jonathan also realized it.

If not, then she would just give him a piece of her mind.

She did not spend her limited time and energy last night taking care of him just for it to be wasted.

Taking care of him.

Why did she take care of him again?

He was their mortal enemy. The cause of despair and agony in the shadowhunter world. The demon her friends and family were looking for.

And the Clave.

The Clave would punish her surely for aiding Jonathan.

She shuddered at the thought. She might be brave but she wasn't stupid. The Clave weren't the Shadowhunter's ruler for nothing. They were a very powerful group of shadowhunters and it would be stupid to go against them.

She cursed her stupidity.

Oh by the Angels! She was damned.

She knew when the Clave found out what she had done, not even her friends and family could help her.

Why didn't she just leave the damned demon?!

Oh yeah, because she can't.

Jonathan was too injured last night. She thought some iratze would be enough to fix him but the blade was poisonous. It entered Jonathan's demon system. He was convulsing and burning.

What kind of poison was it? She didn't know.

Damn downworlders.

So she need to rely to any knowledge she had. Even using some mundane medicines to make him feel better. She used her portal rune to travel. Good thing it was dark. No one was around anymore.

But if there were any, she did not noticed. She was panicking and was too worried about Jonathan's health. She thought he was really going to die.

When she got back with the medicines, Jonathan was shivering but when she touched him, he was burning with fever. So she immediately went to work. It was a long rough night for Clary.

Two hours past midnight, Jonathan's fever started to disappear. The boy was determined to live.

She thought it was good that his fever was leaving but when Jonathan started speaking and going wild, she did not know anymore which one was better.

It seemed like the fever was his tranquilizer and when it wear off, there was nothing to stop him. He kept trashing and turning his face side to side. He looked like he was looking for something. Clary kept her distance when he started thrashing. She did not want to be hurt by those deadly wave of his hands.

Also, his blood were like boiling water. No, burning acids. She kept herself from hissing every time it would land on her skin.

She thought it was some side effect of the poison and fever. He was delirious. He kept mumbling things that sounds like die, kill, go away etc. It was hard for her to hear. Sometimes he would say something very clear like I don't want this or I did not choose this but the one that really convinced Clary that he was delirious was when he started saying things with emotion other than hatred and annoyance. His voice would even rise sometimes.

He kept saying things like:

"Please.. please.."

He was begging for something, Clary realized. It left her stunned. She never thought Jonathan would want something so badly that he couldn't have and would go to such lengths to beg for it.

"... enough.. I don't wan't to be like...this."

Clary did not understand very much what he was talking about.

"Alone... alone.. always.."

Then she realized that he was talking about himself. Alone. Always alone. It broke her heart and without thinking, she knelt beside him.

Like lightning fast, Jonathan grabbed her hand near to him and she realized that she was what he was looking for. The blood stung her skin but she did not pull away.

"Need to be.. safe.. be.. save.."

"You're safe. I'm here. It's safe." She assured him but they both knew that it was a lie. The whole shadowhunter world was hunting him down. Then she was terrified. Not for herself but for the boy in front of her. She wondered if Jonathan ever felt safe. He probably does not even know what the word means. She could only imagine how Valentine treated her brother when he was young.

Did he beat him regularly?

Was he left to fend for himself?

If so, was there anyone to take care of him whenever he felt like dying?

Did he have anyone to turn to for comfort?

She could literary see the younger version of her brother crying in the corner of his dark room after a long day of pretending that he was tough, emotionless and fearless. But at the end of the day, he would always be a boy with sadistic father and no mother. He would always be the only one there for himself to comfort him and his bloody beaten body.

She realized just how unfair the world was.

"Don't... please.. stay.."

His grabbed on her was painful but she did not mind. He was trying to open his eyes and his breath was labored.

"I'm here. I'll always be here." She replied while smiling sadly at him and removing his sweaty bangs away from his eyes.

"I don't want to be alone.. anymore." he finally said before loosing conscious again.

"And you won't be. Not this time." She promised.


Sorry about this short chapter and they did not really interact that much. This chapter wasn't really done yet. I just figured that it would be nice to give you guys something to read. Do you like Clary to be with Jonathan? Like a couple? When I say couple, just couple. No over mature things like sex or anything. Or do you guys want them to stay like siblings? Also, do you prefer Clary with Jace? Review your answer! I love your review guys!