Jonathan was dreaming. He knew it was a dream, knew that none of it was real but even so the biting night air whipping at the back of his neck and the scene unfolding around him sank beneath his skin, making his very bones itch. The thought of the sheen of sweat that he would undoubtedly awake with was displaced in his mind along with the knowledge that Clary's soft flesh would be there to welcome him, soothe him. All he could focus on was the blood that was not his own and the harsh words in his ears and the screaming. Screaming; it was a sound, a violent clash of symbols, a siren; it was not a scream. He wished the writhing form in front of him was screaming- not producing the hoarse, animalistic noise that was flooding his senses like poison.

"Finish it, Jonathan." The voice beside him hissed impatiently. "Now! Finish what you started."

There was a sick feeling in his stomach as he lifted the dagger in his child hands, or rather there was a sick feeling in his mind. There was something far worse burning in his stomach, at least it would be far worse to someone normal, human. To Jonathan as his eight year old self, it was a feeling he had already started adjusting to. A feeling that was simultaneously encouraged and discouraged; subtly praised, yet earned him distasteful looks. It made his head ache.

He sensed the shadow towering over him crouch down but he didn't turn his head to make eye-contact. He was frozen, still like a cat with eyes trained on his prey. Except the pitiful thing before him didn't feel like his prey at all. It was somebody else's. Somebody who acted through Jonathan's body. That thought helped ever so slightly, slowed his erratic heart half a second.

"You've done this before."

"I haven't, not this...it's different..." he heard himself whisper in a nondescript tone as if from a distance, hesitating further.

"Jonathan, listen to me and remember what I say: what you have done is no different to what you do now. For you there can be no difference. That line of thinking is for humans with a conscious. You are neither human, nor do you have a conscious. You are incapable of one. What you are about to do, you do as easily as breathing. If you can't do this, you truly are a failure...And I do not know what I shall do with such a broken thing as you. Would I have to put it down? You know I would never want that but if you cannot do this, you will prove no longer useful to me."

"I'm not broken!" Jonathan all but cried viciously, young black eyes narrowing even as they remained on the poor soul on the floor in front of him. His voice lowered considerably. "And I'll show you."

"Good."


Jonathan wasn't feverish as he'd assumed he would be when he stirred, but cold sweat lined his skin and ran sluggishly down his spine. However, he had not woken naturally and with his instincts kicking in, he bolted upright with his right arm raised defensively at an angle as if to prevent an oncoming attack. When nothing met him but the lightless bedroom, he frowned and his eyes automatically flickered sideways to his sister. Clary was moaning and panting and clutching her stomach, water squeezing out of the corners of her closed eyes.

"Clary?" Jonathan began as he swivelled and wiped her wild red hair out of her sweaty face. "What is it? What's wrong?" She cracked her eyes open seemingly with effort and he could read the fear in them that she was trying desperately to hide.

"Cramps," she gasped out, sucking in a breath and shutting her eyes again. "Just cramps- they wont stop,"

"What do I do? What do you need?" Jonathan demanded, leaning in and cupping his sister's cheeks, doing his best to ignore the way his heart was pummelling against his ribcage.

"I don't know," she moaned again, failing to focus her gaze on him as she grabbed at his forearms. "Maybe they'll- maybe they'll go away if I just take a painkiller or-"

"I'll be right back-" Jonathan said quickly but her slippery grip tightened on his arms, holding him there.

"Something's...something's wrong," she said, eyes suddenly riveted to her lower half. He followed her eyes and a tense moment passed before he withdrew one of his arms from her and slowly pulled back the bed quilt. "Oh my God..."

"That's not..." Jonathan reached out an incredibly steady hand towards his sister's thighs but it faltered inches away and he fisted it against his torso. "...blood."

"I'm so sorry," Clary was saying over and over, still shaking as she hid her face in his shoulder.

"Please tell me that this has happened before- that in some cases people have bled a little without..." Jonathan didn't have time to finish his sentence- and in a way he was glad he'd hadn't had to say it- before his sister clambered to her feet and stumbled across to the bathroom. He heard the click of the lock but for several seconds he didn't move an inch. He was still dreaming- he had to be. It would be okay; they were both going to be okay. It was just one of those things. He'd get Clary to a hospital and the doctor would tell them it was just one of those things and they'd come home. It was just a scare.

His little Adele...His.

"I won't allow it." He uttered under his breath, his expression darkening like thunderclouds rolling in over a blue sky. He opened his mouth to shout it but he refrained, dropping back onto the bed and covering his face with his hands. It was just a little blood, nothing to worry about. Worry? He wasn't worried- of course he wasn't worried! There was nothing to be worried about. Clary wasn't in the bathroom flushing away their child, she was simply cleaning herself up.

Jonathan inhaled deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, lowering his arms to his sides and gazing up at the ceiling. There was no point getting himself worked up; he needed to calm down. Control yourself.

Blood lust was swarming through his veins, urging him to do something, take action- destroy something, beat something, kill someone who didn't deserve to live in place of his Adele. He visualised doing these things, thoughts and images flitting through his minds eye. The feeling of some nameless person's windpipe crushed under his palms; tearing and scratching and pounding at the walls until they resembled no more than rubble or better yet, the flick of a lit match and standing outside, bare foot in the grass, watching it all burn.

Anything to release all the hatred and pain and resentment and ire that was threatening to eat him alive should he ever cease to be able to live with it.

You're just scared, whispered a sincere voice from the furthest corner of his mind.

What is there for me to fear? He questioned the voice bitterly, irritation rising up and acting as a momentary distraction. I feel nothing; I fear nothing.

You fear Clary. You love Clary.

Do I? Maybe it's time I stopped deluding myself, Jonathan shot back heatedly even as he let his eyes fall closed.

If you are happy in your own self-constructed illusion, why throw it away?

Because...Jonathan mentally paused, a weary sigh escaping his lips.

Because it scares you. And when something scares you, all you can do is destroy it. You don't know any better.

I will not destroy what I have with Clary, he told the contrary voice adamantly. No reply came, only silence. And then the muffled sound of the toilet flushing reached his ears. Jonathan was off the bed and before the bathroom door in a matter of milliseconds.

"Clary?!" He shouted, palms pressed against the hard wood. "Open the door!" His breathing was hitching unnoticeably as he listened to the running tap and uncertain pad of feet. When the door opened, his heart stuttered and his face grew still and expressionless. Clary was as white as a sheet, her red rimmed eyes and fiery curls standing out starkly. Jonathan stepped into the room as his sister moved back over to the sink to splash her pinched face with the cool water from the tap. He didn't speak, only watched as she turned off the tap and dried her face on a towel. He knew when he saw the way she took her time replacing the towel, straightening it more than once.

"He's gone," she spoke finally, her tone dead and her body still facing away from him.

"That's impossible." He returned instantly, keeping his voice devoid of emotion as the skin strained over his knuckles.

"I'm sorry," his sister choked, turning to look at him with despair gleaming in her emerald eyes.

"I don't want you to apologise!" His outburst made her flinch and he clamped his jaw shut in an attempt to still himself.

"I can't bring him back, J- I know that's what you're thinking, but I can't change this and neither can you. It's done." His eyes shifted between her imploring face and her outstretched hands as he tried to get his head around what had happened.

"No...I can't accept this..." he murmured, shaking his head slightly as an ounce of emotion seeped unbidden into his black eyes.

"I'm so sorry..."

"No!" His voice was deep and rough as he blindly swung round and put a splintered dent in the bathroom door with his fist.

"J, stop-" his sister cried but he couldn't hear her anymore. "J..." The wood took four more blows before Jonathan closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against it.

"After everything..." he ground out, his hands coming up to lock at the back of his neck. "Is this my punishment."

For a disorientating moment, Jonathan fought off an onslaught of tears clogging up his throat and wetting his vision. It was then that he noticed the change in the atmosphere and pushed away from the battered door. He sprung into action the second his gaze landed on his sister's motionless frame in a heap on the cold tiles.

"Clary!" He shook her none too gently and fumbled to check her pulse when there was no response. Relief briefly surged within him when he found her heart beat but it was dangerously weak. "Not you too. Stay with me!" He pressed his forehead against her cheek, hands curled in her hair and his thoughts racing. Blood loss? What if it isn't? Think...! Decide. Hospital, I have no choice. Portal. Clothes first. Twenty seconds.

Jonathan darted into the bedroom, slid into a pair of jeans that had been discarded on the floor and threw on the first shirt in the wardrobe that his fingers made contact with. He dove for the bedside table to retrieve his stele before he sprinted back into the bathroom with a dressing robe in hand. Carefully but speedily threading his sister's arms into the silky material, he tied it tight around her and lifted her limp body into his arms, cradling her head in the crook of his elbow.

"I won't let you leave me too."


When the portal spat them out onto the hard ground around a corner from the emergency entrance to a hospital, Jonathan barely gave himself time to regain his balance before he was sprinting faster than he ever had in his entire life, round and up the slope to the automatic doors. He'd passed an ambulance on the way and two green-uniformed paramedics followed him in, hot on his tails.

"Sir-"

"She collapsed- I think from blood loss. She's pregnant. She was pregnant," Jonathan informed them immediately in as neutral a tone as he could manage with how fast he was talking; he didn't linger on the last thought or his surroundings, instead focusing on the paramedics before him.

"We need to get her to A&E," said the first, a stocky, balding man with clear blue eyes.

"Bring that stretcher," the second, a tall woman with a blond plait down her back, called across to a porter as Jonathan made for the lift on the left side of the foyer. The paramedics wordlessly helped him settle his sister onto the stretcher as they waited for the lift to come up.

"Did you find her unconscious?" the blond inquired, her eyes yellowish and round like an owls. She couldn't have been over twenty-seven.

"No," Jonathan answered impatiently, watching the numbers above the lift go up too slowly for his liking. "She was in pain- bad cramps, she said- and then we realised she was bleeding."

"You her boyfriend then?" the balding man assumed as he felt for Clary's pulse. Jonathan was starting to grow annoyed at the tedious, prying questions when the lift dinged and the doors slid open. A slender brunette in a pressed white shirt tucked into a high-waisted black skirt, came up short in front of them.

"Doctor Caro, we have a patient here who's collapsed after suffering a miscarriage," the blond said briskly as Jonathan steered the stretcher into the lift, causing the doctor to pivot out of the way.

"Suspected blood loss," added the man.

"So much for my break," the brunette said wryly with a hint of an Italian accent before stepping back into the lift. "Thank you, I'll take it from here." She told the paramedics before pressing a button and turning towards Jonathan. He was holding Clary's hand with a protective stance as the doors closed and they started moving downwards.

"Alright, explain precisely what happened," the woman ordered as she went to work checking Clary's vital signs. Jonathan bristled at her tone.

"She woke up with bad cramps and then she started bleeding," he told her curtly, squeezing his sister's hand subconsciously. "She went to the bathroom and not long after she came out, she collapsed. Her pulse is weak." The lift doors opened and they both wheeled the stretcher out into the hall. Doctor Caro lead them quickly down it, through two sets of glass-panelled double doors and onto a busy ward. The lights were jarringly bright and there was a pungent smell of disinfectant in the air but Jonathan scarcely registered it.

"How long has she been unconscious?" the brunette asked as a male nurse guided them to a vacant bed.

"No longer than five minutes." Jonathan answered breezily; it had actually taken less time than that to get here but it wasn't as though he could explain to the doctor how.

"Five minutes?" she repeated sceptically as they and two nurses transferred Clary from the stretcher to the bed.

"She came round temporarily on the way here." Jonathan lied smoothly.

"And before that?" Doctor Caro pressed while the two nurses weaved in and out of them, habitually going through their procedures.

"Not very long." He replied vaguely and the doctor hummed. She turned to rattle off a list of various tests to the male nurse before she faced him again, coaxing him a little away from Clary.

"I'm guessing she's your girlfriend; I am sorry for your loss, you-"

"No," he interrupted calmly, despite the way his blood boiled at the reminder of his unborn child. "She is my sister." The brunette looked momentarily thrown off but she recovered her composure impressively fast.

"I see, well all the same, you must be worn thin with worry," Her words were kind but there was little of it in her tone, which had remained consistently detached throughout. Jonathan would have found it amusing in different circumstances. "Why don't you go up to the café and get yourself a coffee. You've done all you can do for her right now."

"I'm staying with her." He returned, a drop of coldness dripping off his tongue.

"Mr..."

"Fairchild." He supplied with a faux pleasant smile.

"Mr. Fairchild, you will only be in the way. Let us do our jobs." There was stern finality in Doctor Caro's tone although she showed no outward hostility. "Can we call your parents for you?" Jonathan detected condescension.

"No." He returned shortly, making sure to give the woman nothing suspicious to analyse; her eyes were almost as dark as his and she held his gaze like a hawk. "They didn't know she was pregnant. It's neither yours nor my secret to tell now, is it?"

"Of course." She smiled thinly and it was then that Jonathan noticed the pheromones that were radiating off her. She looked good for her age but she had to be pushing thirty-five. A small sour smile crept across his angular features as he regarded the obvious woman; her eyes batted in response.

"I want to know if anything happens. Get me when she wakes up." He told her in an authoritative tone, not waiting to watch her expression turn disgruntled.

"Mr. Fairchild- Mr. Fairchild!"

"Yes?" He turned back reluctantly as the doctor hurried towards him.

"We need to let the father of your sister's child know. Do you have a number?" She looked significantly flushed but her question had caught him off guard and that irritated him.

"No. She didn't tell the father she was pregnant. No need to get him involved now." He once again headed out of the ward but the brunette wouldn't let him go so easily. "Shouldn't you be helping my sister?" He demanded with an abrupt stop. A passing doctor shot them a look of concern as he passed with a patients notes in hand.

"Just as soon as I'm sure you're not just playing the protective older brother and holding out on important information," Doctor Caro explained in a civilised manner but her eyes were searching. "How is it that you're the only one who knows she was pregnant?"

"I'm the only one who respects her privacy and she didn't want it getting out." Jonathan reasoned in a clipped tone, folding his arms over his chest.

"I see...but as her older brother, do you not think it wise to let your parents know their daughter is in hospital as a result of a miscarriage?"

"That is irrelevant, but no. I don't think that wise. I love my sister and I'm not going to betray her trust." Jonathan retorted, some of the anger that was seething inside him from the loss of the baby coming out. "With an over-bearing father and a neurotic mother, telling them would be the worse thing to do." He added for good measure, stifling all emotion from sounding in his voice.

"You love your sister very much," the brunette remarked almost softly, taking Jonathan by surprise; he frowned. "Very well, I shall call no one. However, should your sister...what is her name?"

"Carly."

"Carly. Should Carly ask us to call your parents, we will." Doctor Caro spun on her heel and left him standing there feeling suddenly exhausted.


Jonathan sat glamoured, at a table at the edge of the cafeteria. He'd been sitting there for the better part of an hour and all he wanted to do was go back to Clary. Even with the glamour he felt exposed, as if the Shadowhunter cavalry would waltz in any second; and Clary, when she woke would she have them call Jocelyn and the others behind his back? No, he trusted her. She had proven her loyalty to him. He wondered about the kind of state she would wake in. She had looked almost sorrowful when she had told him their baby was gone, but had it really affected her that much? Or was she glad to be rid of his demon spawn?

Their baby...now that he was sat alone with nothing to do but wait, the grief welled up within him anew, clenching his teeth against the tears he was so unaccustomed to and refused to allow freedom from his tear-ducts. He leant his elbows on the plastic table surface and fisted his hands in his white hair. It had all been going so well, too soon it had spiralled downwards. Mere hours ago he was a father-to-be and now, now he risked losing his sister's affection as well. They had bonded over the anticipation of the baby and now that there was no baby, he could foresee her reverting back to her initial stubbornness, resistance.

The memory of Clary's sharp tongue and haughty temper both instilled pride in him and salted his wounds. Sitting here in this white and grey florescent hospital café with the yellow daisies that did nothing to bring warmth to the room, Jonathan felt worlds away from his sister, as though they could not be further apart. He forcefully rose from his chair, rubbing his hands through his ivory locks and pacing sporadically. He couldn't wait any longer, he had to see her, be with her, know that she was alright. He made for the lift, dropping his glamour as he went and pressed the call button more than was necessary. When the ding sounded and the doors groaned open, he was faced with the male nurse from earlier.

"Is there any news on Miss Cla- Carly Fairchild?" He demanded after a beat as the man exited the lift.

"She woke up a few minutes ago, but we're still waiting on some tests- nothing serious, they're just to be on the safe side," the man explained plainly, offering an encouraging smile. Jonathan nodded his acknowledgement and thanks before catching the lift down to the A&E.

When Jonathan entered the ward for the second time, he went straight to the bed he remembered Clary being put in. As it came into view, his heart leapt at the sight of his sister sitting up in bed, looking drained and wearing a hospital gown. She looked positively terrified. The second her eyes set on him, her freckled face surged with relief, her hand gripping the edge of the bed.

"Jonathan!" He took a step towards her, meaning to embrace her but as much as it physically pained him, he held himself back, instead taking her hand in both of his.

"Carly, everything's fine. I didn't tell our parents," he said in a placating and deliberate tone, aware of the nurses nearby who might be unintentionally eavesdropping.

"Mr. Fairchild," he turned at Doctor Caro's voice but Clary's hand held fast onto his hand. The Italian brunette stopped by him, sleek and professional. "Jonathan, is it? We've run some tests and we're still waiting for results back, but all in all Carly's condition has improved immensely." She paused as if expecting some sort of appreciation or pleasantry but Jonathan could see there was more she had to say and remained silent. Clary was still beside him, squeezing his hand hard.

"We had trouble determining Carly's blood type; there seemed to be two types of...we thought chemicals, drugs, but the results we got back were inconclusive. Eventually we got a clear enough test back to determine her type and she's taking a transfusion as we speak." At the woman's gesture, Jonathan glanced down at Clary's right forearm where there was indeed a needle, which hooked up to a bag of garnet liquid. He imagined he saw a shimmer of gold ripple through it. "We asked Carly about the strange qualities in her blood but she says she hasn't taken anything..." Doctor Caro paused again but Jonathan didn't enlighten her. Why would the woman assume he knew what was in his sister's veins.

"If my sister said she hasn't taken anything then she hasn't." He said with a dismissive shrug, looking down at Clary who was gazing up at him in silent communication. Get me out of here!

"Okay...well, once Carly's finished her transfusion and we've checked over the oncoming test results- depending on whether they're all clear or not- we would like to keep her in for the rest of the day on hourly obs-" the brunette looked put out as Jonathan interrupted her.

"I'm sure that wont be necessary," he said peaceably, his eyes still on Clary. "Anyway, my sister has a curfew, don't you little Sis?" he ruffled her hair playfully with his free hand, flashing a grin that didn't feel- or probably look- quite right on his face.

"Jonathan-" the bone-tired redhead began in a partially desperate tone but the doctor was already speaking again.

"Blood transfusions can make patients feel a bit woozy afterwards and I wouldn't want Carly leaving too soon, only to have to come back in." A small ounce of frustration could be heard in the undercurrent of Doctor Caro's words and Jonathan gave a belittling smile in response.

"I think we'll take our chances."

"Stop being childish, Jonathan, this isn't a game." Clary spoke up then, giving him a pointed yet wearisome look. He looked back at her in displeasure but it was short lived because it was then that the brunette was handed an envelope of results. The woman read over the sheets, nodding here and there.

"We good to go?" He asked innocently as he scrutinised her Romanesque face from the corner of his eye.

"The results are all good," she murmured, eyes still concentrated on the papers. "But I must insist that you allow us to keep Carly in for just a few more hours under observation-" she went on, meeting his gaze hard before he cut her off once more.

"Okay. Whatever you say, Doc," he winked and sent her a crooked smile. The woman stared at him almost in confusion at his sudden change of tune but relented and walked off to deal with another patient.

"Jonathan- we can't stay here-!" Clary started even before the doctor was safely out of hearing.

"Hush," he perched on the side of her bed, nestling their interlocked hands on his leg. "We're not. As soon as your transfusion's finished, we're going." His sister blew out a long gust of carbon dioxide and relaxed a fraction, settling back against her cushions and gazing across at him, forlorn.

"You know..." she trailed off, eyes flitting down to her stomach and then away.

"What?" He prompted gently, automatically leaning towards her.

"For a moment there...I thought you'd just dumped me in a hospital and left..." the stunted laugh she elicited was mirthless and Jonathan wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. He didn't.

"I would never do that to you." He said firmly, adopting the lowered tones she had used. "You know that," he added with a little disappointment at her lack of faith in him.

"I know," she said, her voice slightly strangled. "I know...I know..."

That was when her floodgates opened, tears cascading down her cheeks, off the tip of her nose and soaking the stiff bedsheets. He could hold her now, he thought; and he did. He moved soundlessly up the bed and drew her into the fold of his arms, tucking her head under his chin and she cried. She sobbed heartily and he didn't let her go.


Its been so long! Sorry for the wait! :)