Author's note: Sorry my updates are kinda infrequent now. I'm graduating next week so there's a ton of stuff I'm having to do for school. There should be two or three chapters left of this story but I might do a couple epilogues.
WARNING: I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS CONSIDER GORE BUT TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE I'M GOING TO SAY THIS GETS ON THE GORY SIDE AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER I WROTE A SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS IN CASE ANYONE DOESN'T WANT TO READ THAT KIND OF THING
When Jonathan came to he was freezing. Where ever they dragged him to, it smelled like decay. He felt a little bit like vomiting but he couldn't determine if it was tied to his withdraw or the pounding in the back of his skull. His arms were hanging at awkward angles, stretched out at wither side of him.
He blinked away the haze blurring his vision. It didn't do much to improve the view. All he had was enough dim lighting to make out he was in a cell.
Chains scraped against the floor as he shifted his legs. He tested the shackles on his wrist, but they were too tight to even be considered breaking out of.
His kidnappers had stripped him of his gear jacket and his weapons belt. Looking down at his chest, he could see purplish red smears staining the grey fabric. "Well that's never going to come out," he grumbled to himself.
Jonathan tilted his head back against the wall behind him. It was just supposed to be a basic mission. Find Luke. Get in. Get out. That's all it was supposed to be.
He allowed himself to get pissed off. Jace and Alec should have heard the altercation and come running. They should have found him by now. He should have been able to take his attackers. If it weren't for the damn medicine he might have been able to.
Footsteps kept him from dwelling on the elements that caused his current situation for too long. Jonathan tilted his head back down to watch for his approaching visitors. Voices drifted towards the cell but he couldn't make out what anyone was saying.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think past the throbbing his skull. The voices got louder and the footsteps got closer.
"Oh Jonathan," He didn't recognize the voice but he didn't have to open his eyes to know his father was standing outside of his cell, "Rise and shine, my son."
Jonathan opened his eyes slowly. He couldn't see his father's face or the guards standing on either side of him in the shadows.
"Blackwell, we need some light." It was a demand disguised as a suggestion.
Witchlight burned Jonathan's eyes. His eyes watered at the sudden brightness pouring over him.
The cell door creaked as it slid open. Jonathan winced at the sound of his father's footsteps approaching him.
"When I said I wanted him alive I didn't mean bring him close to death was also acceptable," Valentine's voice came from too close. Jonathan strained against his chains to try and close the gap between them.
He didn't know what he planned to do but he knew if he could break the chains he'd get at least one good punch in.
Cold fingers touched his jaw, gently tilting his head to get a better view at the angles. "If it weren't for all the swelling, you'd probably be a good looking young man."
Jonathan wanted to bite his tongue and keep his remarks, he really did, but his father already took away his humanity what else could he strip him of? Besides, who was Valentine to him anyway? He may have been Jonathan's father but he sure as hell wasn't his parent. He was the man that ruined him on a molecular level. "Actually, not at all. Unfortunately I get my looks from my father."
Red hot pain covered the right side of his face as his father's palm slapped against his cheek. Jonathan bit down on the inside of his mouth and blood flowed over his tongue. He locked eyes with his father and spat it on the ground at his father's feet.
He grinned up at Valentine, satisfied with himself.
Looking up at his father he understood why people pointed out the resemblance. It really was uncanny. Jonathan felt like he was looking into a mirror that could show you your reflection at forty.
They shared the same thin lips and slightly pointed nose. The sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones seemed like they were produced from the exact same mold as his father's. Valentine's skin had start sagging a little with age and stubble peppered his skin but the sharpness was still there. They had the same small eyes only Valentine's had crow's feet attached at the corners.
"I know about you, you know," Valentine said carefully, standing up straight. "About the medications they put you on to undermine everything I did for you. And they still don't treat you as equal do they? Does little, squirrely Hodge Starkweather look you in the eye when you speak to him? Do the shadowhunters visiting the institute look at you like an animal? Do they not all fear the monster you've been hiding from them?"
His father's face split into a cold grin that matched Jonathan's. "I wish you could see yourself right now. Green eyes swallowed in black. Blood almost as dark as demon ichor staining your clothes. Hair dyed the same shade in places," He reached out and put his fingers in a cut at the back of Jonathan's head. A growl ripped out from Jonathan's throat. Valentine's grin widened. "Growling like an animal. Strung up by chains. Blood coating your teeth while you grin like a mad man."
His father knelt down before him again. "Oh Jonathan," He said sweetly, "If only the Clave could see you now. You'd be executed."
Valentine place a hand on Jonathan's knee, he jerked his leg violently but all it earned him was a painful reminder of the shackle around his ankle and a tightened grip on his knee. "I promise you, you're safe here. I only locked you up like this because it's been so long since you've let yourself go completely and I don't think either one of us knows what's going to happen once you do.
"I can see you've already started. Between your eyes and your new aggressive behavior I'd say you're someplace in-between who I created you to be and who they tried to make you into. It probably won't be long before you're back to your natural state." Valentine's grin fell into a blank face as he reached inside the pocket of his jacket. He pulled a syringe of dark liquid out, showing it off in the light. Demon ichor. The same stuff that polluted Jonathan's veins already. "Too bad I was never known for my patience. This will probably hurt, but only a little pinch."
His father hadn't lied. The injection was just a little pinch. It was the way his father had grabbed his hair and jerked his head to the side to stab the needle into his neck that had hurt. The position only got more painful the longer Jonathan was held at the awkward angle.
At first it didn't feel like anything, which was just as surprising as it was unsurprising. Demon ichor could burn holes through gear depending on the type of demon it came from. Jonathan had even seen some pretty bad burns on skin. It never burned him, only made his skin feel a little itchy and hot, like an allergic reaction. He would have thought the straight injection would have at least felt like that, but why would demon blood react to more demon blood?
He wasn't sure but he think it was a full minute before the chill started to spread from the injection site. Jonathan thought he had been cold when he first woke up but it was nothing compared to this. It seemed like forever for it reach his fingers and toes.
Before the cold even spread through half his body his vision started to shift and change. The room rocked some but he knew his head was stationary in the position Valentine had decided would make for the most pain. It was the colors that were changing more than anything.
The cool tint to the witchlight warmed into a light yellow and slowly shifted to a dark red. All he could see of his father's guards were their shadows and those seemed to grow darker.
Next came the tremors. His body started to shake more violently than any withdrawl he'd gone through. The cuff on his wrist rubbed his skin raw as he strained against his restraints, trying to curl up the best he could.
Valentine released his hair once he was satisfied with the results and took a step back to watch his monster of a child react to his most recent despicable act.
Jonathan started coughing. He could still taste the blood from where he bit his cheek, bitter and sour. He could feel the bile rise in his throat and he coughed it up onto his shirt. His throat burned from it but he could still taste the blood. It hadn't tasted this disgusting before. He spat it out again. And again. And again. But the taste was still there, a reminder of what was coursing through his veins.
"I think our work here for tonight is done, gentlemen. Loosen his restraints. Give him some room to walk it off when he's feeling up to standing. He'll be more cooperative in the morning." Valentine turned to walk out of the cell.
Jonathan swallowed against the taste in his mouth. "Clarissa doesn't." His father froze and turned his head slightly to see over his shoulder. It was the exact reaction Jonathan had been expecting at the mention of his sister. His last chance to hurt him in some way. "She doesn't think I'm a monster. That's enough for me."
Valentine was quiet for a long moment. "She's just like her mother," He said quietly. Then with a sharper edge to his voice spat, "She doesn't know any better."
-o.0.o-
The next morning Jonathan had moved himself to the center of the cell. He sat with his legs crossed. His hands rested on his knees and his back as straight as he could make it.
In addition to longer chains on his arm and the shackles removed from his ankles he had been granted a few iratzes. They had felt like a branding iron was being used on his skin. But his bruises and cuts had disappeared and the swelling had gone down. Jonathan thought it was a good trade.
He waited patiently for one of his guards to retrieve him. He hummed to himself, drew runes in the dust on the floor with his fingers. It didn't seem like much time had passed when Blackwell had come to get him.
"Your father wishes you would join him for breakfast." Jonathan got to his feet and held out his wrists to be released. Blackwell made the mistake of setting the handcuffs too high on his arm when he closed them before removing the shackles from his wrists. He probably could have slipped out of them if he wanted, but they would be coming off soon, he was almost positive.
Jonathan was led to an elegantly decorated bedroom. He looked around with disinterest. "You don't intend to have me meet my father for breakfast like this I hope," He gestured to his filthy and torn clothing.
"There's a change of clothes in the bathroom. Clean up and I'll take you to him."
Blackwell grabbed his arm and unlocked the cuffs. Jonathan made a show of rubbing his wrists. "Well this interaction just got a hell of a lot more civilized." He patted Blackwell on the shoulder, ignoring the man's cringe.
Jonathan stepped into the bathroom and stripped off his clothes, leaving them on the floor not sure where to put them and not caring if they were in the right place anyway.
He turned the water in the shower as hot as he could stand it and watched as the water going down the drain went from a dark red to a bright red to pink to clear. He scrubbed the dirt off his skin and ran his hands through his hair until he was satisfied that all the blood was gone.
He changed into the suit his father had provided him. Only Valentine Morgenstern is pretentious enough to insist on a suit for a father son breakfast. He thought as he tightened the knot on his tie.
He dried his hair the best he could and combed through it with his fingers. Jonathan deemed himself presentable enough.
Blackwell led him to his father as promised. "Breakfast" turned out to be sitting across from his father with an unnecessarily large desk separating them. There was a tray of tea but no food. Neither one of them moved to touch it.
"Jonathan," Valentine said.
"Father," Jonathan said.
"I need you to tell me everything your sister has told you about the Mortal Cup. Clarissa is the only one who would know where it is. It's very important to my plans." Valentine's voice was reasonable but it grated on Jonathan's nerves.
"Well that will be a little difficult," Jonathan said indifferently, "For starters, Clarissa thinks it's called the Immortal Cup so I don't think she's a reliable source."
Jonathan was already bored with the conversation. He picked a lose thread on his sleeve. "Jonathan this is serious."
"To you maybe. Do you have any scissors?"
"If you don't tell me anything I will have to find your sister and bring her here," Valentine warned.
Jonathan wrapped the thread around his finger and yanked until it snapped. "Well, that would be pointless. She doesn't know. Find her and drag her here or don't, I couldn't care less. What is it that you want the Cup for?"
Valentine looked at Jonathan skeptically, "I'm not falling for that. I'm not giving you that kind of information. You're too docile. You're planning something. You should be acting out."
"And how would you know," Jonathan snapped. "I'm a one of a kind abomination. You don't know how I'm supposed to act. And I'm not planning anything other than ways to end my own life so this boring conversation will end. You want me to act out? Give me something to act out to."
Jonathan got up to leave. "Jocelyn's here," The sound of Valentine's confession froze Jonathan half way out of his chair. "She put herself into some sort of magical coma. I believe she thought somehow it would protect Clarissa. It's got to be just awful knowing she's willing to put her life on the line for her but left you to burn."
The apathy clouding Jonathan's thoughts melted into anger. He kept a fixed look of indifference on his face. His stomach twisted as he watched Valentine evaluate his reaction. The words were supposed to play into a bitterness he had towards his mother. All it did was trigger an anger towards someone else entirely.
Jocelyn may have left Jonathan to burn, but she wasn't the one who struck the match.
Summary: Jonathan is held in a cell by Valentine and Valentine gives him an injection of demon blood to help get the medication out of him faster. Time jump to the next day: Jonathan is pretty apathetic and indifferent to everything even when Valentine threatens to find Clary to gain information about the Mortal Cup. Valentine tries to trigger Jonathan's aggression and anger by reminding him of Jocelyn basically leaving him to die. It works and Jonathan gets upset except it reminds him that Valentine was the one who tried to kill him.