Chapter Nine
A/N: Thank you to and cjj for reviewing the last chapter.
It had taken only an hour for Jonathan to seek her out for help. He had crept along the hallway, desperate to avoid being overheard by his father, and rapped on her door as if his life had depended on it. By then, the boy was almost collapsing from the pain.
The mendelin rune was a lot more helpful, returning the colour to Jonathan's greyish cheeks, and although he had been shy in admitting his relief, Jocelyn could see how grateful he was. That was enough to quell the fire in her belly, but not for long.
Evening had fallen before Jocelyn found Valentine, sat in the library once again, running his fingers along the spines of the books the same way one might run their hand along a dog's coat. He had always been fascinated by books, reading record after record to try and improve his fighting technique, or his runic abilities. His wife had always been more interested in stories, elaborate tales that wove pieces together like the threads of a fine tapestry. She had never cared to better herself as a soldier by reading; especially not after she had read Valentine's journals.
"What in the name of the Angel did you think you were doing?" Jocelyn seethed. She almost felt guilty in doing so. Throughout Clary's childhood, she had been so desperate to encourage her daughter to read storybooks that she had never pursued an argument while the girl was holding a book. It was almost second nature now, that such volumes would keep her quiet.
"He was training." Valentine replied, in a voice that was not unlike a shrug of the shoulders. He stood, slowly walking towards her. "He wanted to carry on after he was injured, I did what he asked me to. I really do not see the problem here."
"The problem is that you allowed him to fight!" Jocelyn cried. "You brushed off a broken rib like it was a little scratch! Valentine, an attitude like that could get him killed! I know, I used to have one!"
"But you're still here." the man pointed out, the calm in the face of a storm. "As am I. So that attitude must have done us some good."
"No, Valentine," Jocelyn spat. She could not remember ever being so angry. "It was leaving the Shadowhunters that did me good. It let me realise that not everything is about being the best, bringing honour to the family name. By the time I left, there was no family for me to honour."
Valentine's eyes fell to the floor, his knowing smile faded away. "I was wondering when you would ask about that."
"I don't need to ask." Jocelyn responded, her voice cutting with bitterness. "I was there. I saw it."
"So did I." That caught the woman off balance, and she had to fight not to allow her mouth to gape like a fish. Valentine stepped forwards, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "I was there in the distance, with Jonathan. I saw you arrive at the house, I saw you try to get in. I saw Lucian holding you back. I left a little while after that."
"You were watching me?" Jocelyn barely managed to choke out the words. Anger burned in her veins like liquid fire. "Wanted to see the pay-off, did you? Watch me crumble before your eyes?"
"No!" The exclamation was so forceful that the redhead almost flinched. "I wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. I know what you're like. You would have run headlong into that fire, had Lucian not caught you in time."
"Yes, I would have." Jocelyn replied instantly. "Because they were my family, Valentine! I couldn't stand by and watch them burn, it was my parents, my son!"
The word remained unspoken between them, the fourth set of bones strewn among the rubble, and the ruse they had maintained all these years of who those bones belonged to.
"I was wrong to do that to you, Jocelyn." Valentine's confession was so sudden that Jocelyn could not believe her ears. Her legs were trembling violently, threatening to give way beneath her. Valentine moved quickly to her side, resting his hand on her arm and guiding her into the nearest seat. "I've never regretted anything the way I regret that night. Seeing what it did to you… the moment I saw your face, I wished I'd never set that fire."
"Then why did you?" Jocelyn could not keep the question as it slipped from her tongue. In truth, it had plagued her mind since before the smell of ash had faded from her nostrils.
Valentine ran a hand through his white hair, pushing the immaculately styled locks out of place. For a moment, he looked just like he had done when they were younger. "I suppose I wanted to prove a point. Prove how much you relied on people who were… not me. I was jealous."
"So you burned them in their beds?" Jocelyn's voice broke. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear their screams, and her own.
"Jocelyn, I am so sorry." Valentine stated, placing his hand on his wife's chin and turning her head to face him. It took just a moment for the redhead to shake free of his grip, climbing to her feet and staggering backwards. "Jocelyn-"
"Don't." she instructed, her voice little more than a murmur. It was all it took to silence her husband, to keep him still in his chair instead of running after her. "Don't you dare try to make this right. You made your choice, Valentine, to murder my family. And if you think I'll ever forgive that, you're dreaming."
Jocelyn tore her eyes from him and ran out of the room, slamming the door shut as she passed through it. Valentine sighed, as the barrier fell between them once again. He surveyed the empty room, one that had once held so many good memories for them.
This time his whisper went unheard.
"I'm sorry."
A/N: Like I've said before, Jocelyn is the only person I believe Valentine actually feels guilty for wronging, except maybe Jace and Clary. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and please review!
