This is one of the many epilogue chapters I'm going to be posting for this story. Loved writing this chapter! So Clary is 19 and Jonathon is 20 now. Have fun reading it! ;)
Epilogue- Two years later
Jocelyn kisses Clary on the forehead, hugging her close to her body. "Is Jonathon decent, sweetheart?"
Clary sighs against her. How many times now has her mother asked that? Seven or eight… hundred times. "Yes mother, Jonathon's been fine. He makes me happy you know. I hope you know that I'm happy."
Jocelyn hugs her tighter. "That's all that matters, that and your wellbeing. Take care, sweetheart. Luke and I are going to France for a few weeks for our honey moon. I'll call once a week to check up, okay?"
Clary extricates herself from her mother's grasp and smiles. "Have fun mom. Don't worry about me." Clary kisses her mother on the cheek and her and Luke head down the stairs towards their villa. Clary is about to turn around to head back when she sees a familiar pair of black haired men climb the Gard steps. Clary smiles to see Alec and Magnus back and she climbs back down the stairs to meet them half way. Alec looks up to see Clary running down the steps. He stops on the landing and Clary runs into his embrace.
"Alec! You're back! How was Germany?" Clary says, soaking in Alec's warmth.
"It was chocolate filled my dear," Magnus says behind her. Alec releases her and Magnus takes her in a one sided hug, kissing her on the cheek. He produces a dark black box with a red ribbon tied around it.
"Magnus, you shouldn't have," Clary says kissing Magnus's cheek as she takes the chocolates from his hands.
"Oh but I should, there isn't a scrap of decent sugar in that Gard kitchen of yours," Magnus says with a flick of his wrist.
She turns to Alec, noticing his cheeks are red with wind burn. "We were just swinging by to say hi before we leave for Moscow," Alec says.
"Moscow? Oh Jonathon and I went there a few weeks ago. I loved the architecture, you guys will like it. Hey do you want to come in for a quick bite to eat. You guys look hungry, despite our lack of decent sugar plus it's getting pretty cold." Clary smiles.
"Only for a few minutes I guess. What do you say Magnus, we haven't had anything to eat since that strip club," Alec says bluntly.
Magnus's cat eyes flash but he nods and they all head up the stairs into the Gard towards the kitchen. Ry and Roman are standing at the doorway, waiting for Clary. They stay back to give Clary, Alec and Magnus breathing room. They step into the kitchen, Alec ahead of her and she catches sight of a pale rune on the back of his neck.
No, she thinks. Please, no. Dread and horror grip her throat. She stops in the open space between the counter and table. Magnus halts abruptly so as not to hit Clary and Alec turns around to see why they've stopped. Alec knits his brow as he sees Clary's barely controlled dread.
She takes a shuddery breath, on the verge of tears. She doesn't want to ask, she doesn't want to know but she needs to. "Alec, which rune is that? On your neck?"
Horror flashes across his face and his gaze flicks to Magnus, whose lips are pursed. Clary tries to breathe in but her breath catches and she almost chokes. Alec pulls off his shirt to reveal a toned, muscular body and turns around. His faded, stark white parabatai rune sits, blindingly painful on the back of his neck. A muffled gasp of horror escapes Clary as she runs a finger down the pale skin of his neck. Tears threaten to spill over as Alec pulls his shirt back on. The white rune is burned into her brain. No, no he escaped. But he might not have had anywhere to go. He could have been caught or demons could have killed him. Or…
Clary's legs shake and she collapses. Alec rushes forward and catches her before she can hit the ground. Clary can't find any words. It feels like an old wound is being torn open. Her heart feels as though it's being wrenched around in her chest, as though someone is trying to rip it from her chest. Alec holds her in a crushing hug supporting her, he reminds her so much of Jace. Not in his mannerisms but all the memories of Jace that are shared with him. She remembers when Jace first brought her to the Institute and she saw the dark shadow of Alec, glaring at her.
She starts to cry, wetting Alec's shirt. Sobs rack her body, trembling she tries to grasp onto reality but it slips away as Alec holds her tightly, trying to ground her. She bunches her hands in his shirt and buries her face in the dark fabric. Alec holding her comforts her somehow, reminds her of Jace. One of the only keep sakes she has left of him. His best friend and parabatai. Her body shakes against Alec's and Magnus rubs her back. Alec's head is bowed to rest on her hair.
"When?" Clary manages to strangle out. Alec will know how long he's been gone, how long his once black rune has been white. Alec holds her tighter; crushing her ribs, but manages to take a deep breath.
"About two almost three years, when I was in the Gard prisons."
Clary sucks in a painful breath. Memories flash before her and her stomach churns. "The Gard prisons? But Jace was…" A memory of Jonathon standing in a cell, covered in blood with a wild grin on his face. Her tears immediately stop, all-consuming sadness replaced with a burning hatred, subsuming the rest of her emotions.
"He didn't!" Clary almost screams, pulling away from Alec.
"What Clary?" Alec looks down on her with concern.
"Jace he was… at the manor. Jonathon, he… he killed him. He killed him!"
She turns on her heel and marches out the door, anger and hatred radiating from her body. Alec and Magnus trail behind her, concern growing on their faces as Clary throws open the training room doors. She sees Jonathon sitting on a chair sharpening a blade with a whetstone. Anger blazes in her chest as she yells, "Murderer!"
Jonathon doesn't look up from his blade, so as not to cut himself but speaks calmly, "Angel, you're going to have to be more specific." She hates him, she's lain with him for almost three years and he never told her. He murdered him.
"Don't you dare call me angel! You have no right, you filthy, lying bastard! You killed him!"
This time Jonathon looks up to see Clary's cheeks flaming, glaring at him with Alec and Magnus standing in the doorway at her back. He knits his eyebrows, placing the blades back on the wall and the whetstone on a shelf. "Who angel?"
"You know who!" She yells but Jonathon's expression doesn't change. This only makes Clary angrier. She sees Ry and Roman come to stand inside the doors, watching their two employers carefully. "Jace! You killed him! You told me he escaped!"
Jonathon's expression shifts but assumes a bored façade. "Angel let me explain," he says standing up from his chair and starting towards her.
"Stop calling me that! You don't get to call me angel! You don't get to come near me! Why did you lie to me?"
Tears spill, unbidden, over her cheeks but she does nothing to to wipe them away. Hurt and pain cross Jonathon's stoic face and something inside her revels in his pain. He probably made Jace suffer, he deserves the same.
"I lied to protect you angel," Jonathon says cautiously.
"That's all you ever do, Jonathon! All you do is lie and whenever that lie comes to the surface it hurts me more than if you just told me! Lying doesn't protect me, it hurts me!"
Clary takes a throwing blade off the wall and hurls it at Jonathon. Alec and Magnus were too shocked to stop her. He ducks to the side as the blade buries itself in the wall where his right shoulder had been. She doesn't want to kill him, angel forbid she could, but that doesn't mean she can't hurt him. He turns on her with a shocked expression.
"You're a murderer! You lied to me! How dare you lie to me!" Clary grabs another blade off the wall.
Jonathon puts his hands up and steps forward cautiously. "Clary, please."
Sobs are racking her body again but her arm holding the knife is steady. "No! No more 'please,' no more apologies. This is the last time you lie to me Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern!" She raises the knife, aiming for Jonathon's shoulder but before she can hurl it at him again Alec grabs her forearm and yanks her back. Alec pulls her kicking and screaming and sobbing into him. He wraps his strong arms around her waist and hauls her backwards as she screams obscenities at her brother and tears soak her shirt. Before the doors close she yells back at him, "I'm leaving this hell hole in the morning! I'm not coming back for you to lie to me again!"
Clary manages to kick Roman in the thigh but he doesn't falter as he helps hold her legs still as Alec drags her to a bedroom. It's not her bedroom. Alec pins her down on the bed, trying to calm her down. She continues to kick and struggle as Ry holds down her legs and Alec pins her shoulders.
She knows she's screaming, kicking and fighting against her friends. "Let me go!"
Alec's voice eventually breaks through the red and teary haze. "Clary, please. Calm down, you're going to hurt yourself."
Clary continues to struggle until Magnus comes over and places two fingers to her forehead. Alec, Magnus, Ry and the sound of Jonathon yelling at someone fade to black as she passes out.
Clary wakes up sore and aching. Empty. Clary rolls over to see Alec sleeping in a chair beside her bed and Magnus on the couch. This isn't the room she and Jonathon sleep in. She'll never set foot in that damned room again.
"Alec," Clary says through a raw throat.
Alec wakes immediately and focuses on Clary. "Hey," Alec says.
"Alec you didn't need to stay. My ass of a brother will not be happy. Not that a give a rat's ass but I don't want you to get hurt."
"Your guards wouldn't let him in. He tried to come to you but Ry and Roman locked the door and are standing outside now," Alec says taking her hand. Clary sits up and hugs him.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that alone Alec. Will you go home now, try to have some fun for me?"
"Will you try not to murder your brother? I don't need you sinking to his level okay?"
Clary nods. She just wants to get Alec and Magnus out of the Gard. They stand and Clary walks over to the door while Alec goes to wake Magnus on the couch. Before she reaches the door she turns back to Alec. "Please don't tell the others that Jonathon did it. I don't need them getting involved. But I assume they have known about Jace's death for a while? Magnus knew."
"Yes they've known, but Magnus, you and I are the only ones who know who did it. I won't tell them. Try not to get into too much trouble okay? We'll come by later to check on you. Your guards also said something about reporting only to you now. Don't know why but they didn't let Jonathon anywhere near you. They're quite the friends," Alec says shaking Magnus awake.
"At least I have friends in the Gard," Clary says with a weak smile. Her face hurts but she forces the smile anyway. She turns back towards the door, unlocks it, and pulls it open. Ry and Roman immediately turn to see her standing blearily in the door frame. Looking at Ry she sees his jaw is black and blue while Roman has a cut on his forehead. Clary gasps and her hands fly to their faces. Clary wipes away a drop of blood from Roman's brow and gently runs a finger over Ry's bruised chin.
"Did my brother do this to you?" Clary asks withdrawing her hands. They both smile warmly, they look so much alike.
"Yes, Lady Queen but only because we wouldn't let him in. We knew you could not tolerate your brother's presence at that current moment. So we kept him out, with a little trouble, but kept him out all the same," Ry says. Ry seems to be the one who usually talks.
"You're right. Thank you. Can you guys make sure my friends here make it out of the Gard without my brother skinning them alive?"
"Of course." They both bow and Clary smiles, then sweeps out the door after saying goodbye to Alec and Magnus.
She can feel her exhaustion in her bones even though she just took a nap. Even a forced one. She's also very hungry, given she feels empty now. She heads towards the kitchen. How could Jonathon do this to her? He was being so good, seemed so carefree. Jace's death probably was why he was carefree because he had no competition. If he weren't so blind he would see that he doesn't have competition, she had given herself to him fully. But he was so pig headed that he couldn't see that so he killed Jace. The jackass. She's leaving, maybe she'll go to her mother. Say that she needs to be away from Jonathon but that will only cause her suspicion. She doesn't want to impose on any of her friends either. At the moment the Gard seems to be the only place she can go. Fine but that doesn't mean she has to sleep in the same room as Jonathon or even the same wing.
In the kitchen she grabs an apple and starts to chew on it. She starts walking back to her bedroom, wanting to go back to sleep. She freezes as Jonathon walks through the kitchen doorway. Jonathon's head is hung low and his shoulders sag. He hasn't noticed Clary yet but she made a small, strangled noise when she saw him. Now he looks up to see her standing mid stride with her half eaten apple in hand.
"Clary I…" Jonathon begins.
Before he can finish Clary bolts past him and down the hall, slamming into her room. She makes sure to lock the door just as she hears Jonathon slam up against it. The slam sounded as though he couldn't stop his momentum, not trying to break the door down.
"What part of don't come near me do you not understand?" Clary shouts at the locked door.
"No part. You don't know how much this hurts me angel. Let me explain myself. I hate seeing the pain on your face," Jonathon says through the door. He doesn't sound very sorry, just like the old Jonathon she used to know, the one she loved and his voice tugs at her heart but at the same time draws on her rage.
"Well you're not going to be seeing my face for a very long time!"
"Angel please, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
"Well you did!"
Clary hears a thump and can't decide if Jonathon has just fallen to the floor or banged against the door. Either way it startles Clary and she unlocks the door to see what he did. She opens the door to Jonathon standing in the doorway, looking down at her with pained, regretful eyes. Clary keeps glaring despite the hurt on Jonathon's face. Seeing he's fine she slams the door again before he can get a word out.
She's not going to forgive him for this, never. She hears a sigh from outside the door but doesn't care. Right now sleep seems nice, that is what she is going to do, sleep. She pulls the blackout curtains on the setting sun, slips out of her day clothes and under the covers. Immediately dropping to sleep as her head hits the pillow, she lets the ache in her chest spread until it suffocates her into sleep.
Two weeks have passed since she found out. Two weeks of avoiding Jonathon, two weeks of withholding sex, which to Clary, seems like a more horrible punishment to him than any other besides not letting him see her. It's well past midnight and all the castle servants are asleep for the night and Ry and his brother are out drinking. She let them go; they've had a rough time trying to help her keep Jonathon away even though she didn't want them to get involved. Tonight she finally got them to go enjoy themselves. She's glad she has some friends that are always close by. She's on the couch in the separate room with a sketch book on her lap, the fire roaring in the fire place in the dead of winter. The fire and a lamp on the side table are the only sources of light, so her sketch is flickering with shadows, so are her hands, engulfed in shadows.
She finishes a rough sketch of different runes, all hooked together by one of their lines, entwining with each other to fill the white of the page. She doesn't know where her brother is nor does she care. The first few days she sat in bed, mourning Jace, she even drew a few mourning runes on her arms. The second week her anger boiled down but her forgiveness has yet to come; she doesn't think it ever will. At least for him killing Jace.
She hears a thump in the hallway, a loud one and she jolts, sending the sketch book flying off her lap. She hears another and she stands rushing to her door as one final crash sounds against the wood. She pulls the door open, wondering what, at this time of night, could be making such noise. She screams. Jonathon stands slumped against her door frame, literally covered in blood from head to toe. Long gashes run across his chest, oozing blood. His clothes are in tatters and his face is covered in fresh blood along with a long cut along his cheek. He holds a hand to his neck, blood and an ugly green fluid drip through his fingers.
Jonathon's eye lids droop but he manages a weak smile and to croak out, "Greater demon," before he collapses into Clary. She reflexively reaches out to catch him and has the breath knocked out of her. She struggles to hold up his body as she drags him to the bed. She's starting to panic. What if he dies? The green liquid coming out of his neck can't be good, never. She doesn't want him to die, no matter how angry she is with him. She looks down at him, sickly colored skin under the layers of blood. How stupid is he? What did he do? He's going to die. Clary scrambles for a stele, he may only have minutes. Her breath comes in short, rapid pants. On her knees she digs through the dresser hurriedly and finally comes up with a stele. She frantically runs back over to her brother and removes the hand from his neck. A pulsing, green, puncture wound gapes at her. She struggles to muffle a scream, and realizes that silent tears have started to fall down her cheeks.
She hurriedly places the stele on his neck and pours every ounce of power she has into the iratze. Her brother can't die. She's already lost one of her loves she can't lose another. She can't lose her brother. Slowly the gaping hole in his neck closes and Clary lets out a sigh of relief as some of the color returns to his face. Jonathon's eyes flutter open for a moment, looking up at her with reverence and love. "Don't leave me." He's gone again. Clary almost laughs with relief.
"You stupid boy. How can I possibly stay mad at you when you try to get yourself killed?" Clary hauls her brother further onto the bed so his body is laid horizontally on the comforter. Now she can take her time patching up her brother, that his major, fatal wound is healed. She has to cut off his shirt and pants, which are in tatters and finds more gashes running along his torso. Some of them have healed slightly, the ones closer to his neck but a lot of them are still open and bleeding. She has to Mark him with four iratze on his torso and chest, two on his hip and turning him over, three on his back. All the while Clary thinks, What the hell did you do you idiotic boy? She also finds a giant gouge in his thigh. She lets out a yelp as she sees his blood pouring out of the wound. She quickly wraps it with a spare headband on her nightstand to cut off blood flow as she inks another iratze on to his thigh. She unties the head band after the wound closes completely.
After closing up all his wounds she walks into the bathroom and returns with an armful of towels. Jonathon is a dark, bloody shadow on the mattress, flickering in the fire light. Placing the towels on the bed she runs back to grab a great dish of water. She places that on the bedside table and climbs on the bed. She sits with Jonathon's head in her lap and grabs a towel, wets it and gently dabs at Jonathon's face. His eyes flutter but they stay closed. She wipes all the blood from his face then moves to his hair. The white blond stained a dark red; she dips the towel in the bowl, which turns the water a pinkish red. She dampens his hair until the blood starts to come out. By the time she gets most of the blood out, his hair is still a light pinkish color. By some miracle, Jonathon's boxers managed to stay intact but his body, legs and feet are now bare. She grabs a new towel and dampens that one, running it over his tender chest. His face still has a sickly hue to it, due to all the blood loss but is slowly regaining its rightful color.
"You're impossible," she whispers to him. She knows he can't hear but she might as well say something. They haven't exchanged words in two weeks. "You killed Jace almost three years ago and never told me. I manage to be angry with you but then you go out to angel knows where in the middle of the night and try to get yourself killed. I hope you at least killed the Greater Demon you numbskull. Now you're getting blood all over the sheets. What will Catalyn think? Blood covering the sheets again? She was scandalous the last time that happened. Plus you end up stumbling back here to my rooms and practically crush me. You couldn't have gone to the medic you stupid boy?"
She grabs another towel and wipes off his torso and legs. Most of the blood is gone which is good enough for now. In the morning or whenever he wakes up he'll have to shower. She hopes he'll at least be strong enough to shower on his own. With his injuries and Greater Demon wound, though closed, he's going to be laid up for at least a few days so she doubts his ability for a lone shower. Wiping off his left arm, she finds it sits at an odd angle.
Clary groans inwardly. "No. You idiot," Clary says. She already put an iratze on his shoulder so the arm healed but incorrectly. She's going to have to rebreak it then set it again before putting another iratze on. She hears a laugh from the hall and she slips Jonathon's head back onto the blanket before running over to the door. Ry and Roman walk down the hallway and upon seeing her, slightly panicked, their smiles fade.
"What is it Lady Queen?" Ry asks, approaching her.
"Um, this is going to sound weird but I need you two to hold down my brother so I can rebreak his arm."
Their brows knit.
"Please? I didn't break it. Promise," Clary says seeing the looks on their faces but they come into the room anyway. They see the bloody towels and look at Clary suspiciously but say nothing.
"What do you need us to do?"
"Hold down his shoulders and keep his arms still."
Ry and Roman move to either side of the bed and hold down Jonathon's shoulders, Ry holding down Jonathon's broken arm. She ties back her hair that falls forward into her face. She kisses him on the forehead.
"Sorry babe," Clary says as she takes his arm and rebreaks it in the place it first snapped. Jonathon's eyes fly open and he tries to surge forward, letting out a scream. Ry and Roman hold him down as she resets it. Her brother lets out another scream as he falls back to the bed, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He's panting and his eyes roll back into his head as he passes out from the pain… or blood loss, or both.
"Thank you. He's fine now, for the most part," Clary says still staring at her brother. She looks up to see Ry and Roman. She looks closely now she can see how drunk they are. "It's late. Go to bed guys, I'll be fine."
"Are you sure you want him," Roman nods towards Jonathon, lying sweat covered and still slightly bloody, on her bed, "In here with you, Lady Queen?"
"No, but you can't move him now. I need to take care of him, no matter what idiotic thing he got himself into. Go to bed, sleep off the alcohol, you can have tomorrow off if you want, I won't be going anywhere for the next, oh maybe week," Clary says, she realizes her breath is quicker than normal but that could be because she just had to rebreak her brother's arm then reset it. Breaking a bone on purpose takes effort.
Reluctantly they nod and bow. Leaving, Roman ruffles her hair and Ry kisses her cheek before they walk out of the room and Clary shuts the door. She walks back over and draws another iratze on his arm to heal the break. She walks back into the bathroom and grabs long, big, white bandages, medical tape and another clean wash cloth.
She lays the wet wash cloth on Jonathon's forehead and proceeds to bend his broken arm against his body, wrapping the bandages around it and his chest, holding it there. The initial break is healed but he won't be able to use it for a few days. After she's done wrapping his arm and padding it she stands up to look down at herself. She's cover in his blood and demon acid, the latter having burned a hole through her shirt. She pulls off her shirt and pants then walks to the closet to throw on another pair of sweat pants and a tank top. She climbs back into bed after replacing her sketch book on the side table. She rests Jonathon's head on her stomach and pulls a blanket up over both of them.
She runs her fingers through his pink tinted hair. His soft, formerly white blond hair ghosts through her fingers. "Why do you have to be so intolerable? First I hate you, then I don't know then I love you. Then I find out you lied to me for three years so then I hate you, don't talk to you for two weeks then you show up at my doorstep on death's doorstep and I can't help but save you. You make it very hard to be angry with you," Clary whispers. The fire still flickers in the hearth and Jonathon's face is turned toward hers on her stomach. She runs a hand over his cheekbone, still bruised but healing from the long gash there. Blood gone she can see the remnants of other injuries. A faded purple bruise on his other cheek, a thin line above eyebrow indicating a cut and on his throat the ugly puncture wound still slightly visible. She kisses his cheek before settling down against the pillows, closing her eyes but Jonathon stirs against her.
"You stayed," Jonathon says, trying to shift but cries out as he looks down, sleepily, at the bandages wrapping around his chest and torso. Clary looks down at him to see him glaring at the bandages.
"Of course I did numbskull. I couldn't well let you die," Clary whispers still stroking his tinted hair.
"But you're still here," Jonathon says tiredly. His eyes rest on her for a moment before closing again and he rests his head back on her torso, his face turned towards hers.
"Well, you won't be able to walk for a few days due to the thing on your neck and your thigh. I would feel guilty leaving an invalid alone," Clary says innocently.
Jonathon manages a weak laugh but winces, clutching his ribs with his good hand.
"Do I even want to ask what you did?" Clary asks exasperated, stroking Jonathon's hair.
Jonathon's good hand comes up to pull hers down, the one not stroking his hair, and lets a long breath out. He laces his fingers in with hers, holding on with a fierce possession. This is the closest he's been to her in the past two weeks. He must feel so elated to be touching her again, to be close to her after two weeks. She can feel his muscles relax into her, soaking up her presence and warmth, absent for more than fourteen days. In some way she's missed him too, the way his body curves into hers, his warmth and stability. She's not going to tell him but she lets herself enjoy him, no matter how battered and broken at the moment.
"It's a long story, one that I would prefer to tell tomorrow. In the comfort of this bed with you next to me, hopefully." His words have hope threaded deep within them, practically begging her outright.
"We'll see," Clary says. She is going to stay with him, help him heal. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid again.
Jonathon brings her hand to his lips and kisses it, holding it to his lips longer than necessary. His hot breath ghosts over her skin, sending goose bumps up her arm. He keeps her hand pressed against his cheek and she doesn't pull back. She lets her hand rest on his cheek and after a while she thinks he's asleep, she leans back against the pillows again, watching the fire flicker.
After a long silence though she hears Jonathon whisper, "I missed you."
Clary's hand stills in his hair but she doesn't retract either of her hands. I missed you too. Part of her cries out but blood spattered on stone walls flashes across her vision and quells her voice. She keeps her eyes on the flame, watching the shadows dance across the dim walls. Jonathon turns on his good side, slipping an arm under her back and pulls her farther under his head. He isn't expecting her to respond, he's just happy he has her back. In whatever way he can get her.
Finally, when Jonathon's fallen asleep, she whispers, "I missed you too, Jonathon."